The Returning Crane

East of Wu there was an old man, surname Shen, fond of chess and of a solitary nature. In spring he saw a young crane fallen in the field, one wing broken. The old man pitied it, bound the wing with cloth, fed it fish, and in ten days it recovered and he set it free. The crane circled three times and went.

Several years later came a great drought; the fields cracked like tortoise-shell patterns, and the neighboring acres all withered, yet only the old man's field stayed moist, its grain un-withered. The old man wondered, and crept to watch by night; he saw a crane, carrying drop after drop of water, descend from the sky and sprinkle his field. The old man understood: it was the crane he had freed.

Some years more, the old man fell gravely ill; having no kin nearby, he awaited his end. One evening he heard the beat of wings outside the door; the crane came in carrying green herbs and laid them by his pillow. The old man chewed them and his spirit cleared somewhat. Thus for seven days, until the old man sat calm and passed.

After his death, the family saw two cranes circle the coffin crying mournfully, their wings bloodied and dripping, as if weeping. The villagers, honoring this, buried the old man by the field, and the cranes went away.

The Chronicler of the Strange says: The crane is a spirit-bird, not of the dog-and-horse kind, yet for a single meal's kindness and the mending of one wing, it bore the debt long and did not forget. In drought it sprinkled pearls to moisten his field; in sickness it carried herbs to prolong his life; in death it circled the coffin to see him off. There are those today who receive a meal's grace and forget it in an instant, some even turning to bite the hand — set beside this crane, can they not blush? Birds know to repay, yet a man may fall short; how can one not sigh.