The Silkworm Goddess

In the mountains of Shu there was an orphan girl, surnamed Ge, who kept silkworms to support herself. She was of the utmost filial devotion and tended her blind mother-in-law with the greatest care. But the raising of silk was hard, the thread was thin, and it fell short of their needs; the girl grieved over it day and night. On the night before the Grain-Rain, a goddess came from the woods—clad in frost-white silk, bearing a bamboo basket—and said to the girl, “I am the goddess of silkworms. Moved by your filial heart, I shall teach you a secret craft: feed the worms with the blood from your fingertip, and the cocoons shall be bright as snow, their thread threefold in length.” The girl was startled; the goddess said, “The blood is slight—it will do you no harm.” With that she imparted a charm and floated away. The girl did as she was told, pricking her finger and letting the blood fall upon the trays. The worms fed, and sure enough the cocoons grew large as fists, their thread dazzling to the eye. She sold it for a rich price, and the old woman’s sight slowly cleared. The girl rejoiced and laboured the harder, feeding the blood each night without cease. Yet her looks faded day by day, her fingers were scored with wounds, and by degrees she could scarce lift her hand. The old woman perceived it and wept: “I would sooner stay blind than see you harmed.” The girl soothed her and kept the secret. One evening the goddess came again, and seeing the girl worn to a shadow, sighed: “I meant to reward your filial heart, and little thought to burden your body. That the silk is made yet the body is spent—this is the recompense of a single thought. You traded blood for thread, and Heaven repays you with sickness; each receives its due.” She took the girl’s hand and breathed upon it, and a dew arose that healed the wounds at once. “Henceforth you need not feed with blood,” she said; “the worms shall fatten of themselves.” At dawn the goddess was gone and the girl’s body was as before; the worms too multiplied, and their silk doubled the common yield. The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: At a single stir of filial thought the goddess came to teach her craft; only when the blood was spent from her body did she learn Heaven’s balance. This recompense is no punishment—each simply takes what was given. The silk of the Ge girl, thread by thread, was none other than her own heart.