The Bird Zhǎogǔ

Once upon a time, there lived a wicked old woman. She had a son and a daughter of marriageable age. The son got married, but soon after the wedding, he went beyond the Great Wall to the eastern lands, and the old woman began to torment her daughter-in-law in every possible way. She doted on her own daughter, showering her with love and care.

The old woman would often say:
"Eat some more white pancakes, my dear daughter, and have some soup—it's made from fine millet!"

But the daughter would sometimes sneak a few white pancakes to her sister-in-law. The old woman would glare at her daughter-in-law and grumble:
"Look at how much you eat and drink! I could never stock enough bran pancakes for you!"

The mother-in-law gave the poor daughter-in-law neither good food nor decent clothing, only beating and scolding her from morning till night.

That year, the old woman raised an uncountable number of silkworms. There were so many that you couldn’t take them all in at a glance, and if you tried to count them, you’d lose track. Every day before dawn, the old woman would send her daughter-in-law to the mountains to gather mulberry leaves. The daughter-in-law would gather leaves all day, but the sun would climb high, and evening would still be far off. The mulberry trees were almost stripped bare, and it seemed they would soon be left with no leaves at all. Meanwhile, the silkworms grew bigger and fatter. By the fourth month, the silkworm larvae began to lighten in color. You’d toss in some leaves, and all you’d hear was the rustling: *sha-la, sha-la*. Before you knew it, not a single leaf remained—the larvae had devoured them all. You’d toss in more leaves—*sha-la, sha-la*—and again, not a single leaf was left.

One day, as the daughter-in-law prepared to go to the mountains for leaves, the old woman jabbed her finger at her and shouted:
"A daughter-in-law is like a horse in this household. If I want, I’ll ride her. If I want, I’ll beat her. Just try coming back without mulberry leaves! I’ll whip you with a lash, break a stick over you, and for three days, I won’t let you eat, and for five days, I won’t let you sleep!"

The old woman glared after her daughter-in-law, then turned and saw her own daughter picking up silkworms from the ground. A wave of pity washed over her, and she said:
"My dear daughter, you’re so good! Rest now. When the daughter-in-law returns, she’ll do all the work. Are you thirsty? Or hungry? I’ve saved some soup in the pot and put a white pancake on the lid."

Now, the old woman’s daughter was a true beauty, but unlike her mother, she had a kind heart and pitied her older brother’s wife. Hearing her mother’s words, she turned and said:
"Why am I any better than my sister-in-law that I should leave the work to her?"

The old woman, hearing her daughter talk back, raised her hand to strike but didn’t. She opened her mouth to curse but held back—she couldn’t bring herself to hurt her own daughter. Frustrated, she waved her hand and walked away.

Meanwhile, the daughter-in-law had reached the mountains and began searching for mulberry leaves. The sun was scorching, the mountains were steep, and by the time she climbed from the Southern Mountain to the Eastern Mountain and then to the Northern Mountain, it was noon, and her basket held only a handful of leaves. Exhausted, the poor woman sat by the roadside and wept.

Back at home, the old woman’s daughter had finished tending to the silkworms and kept thinking: "How is my sister-in-law faring in the mountains? Did she gather enough leaves, or will she return empty-handed? I always worry about her, but today my heart is pounding. She must be starving up there, poor thing!" Thinking this, she took the white pancake her mother had saved for her and poured some millet soup into a pot. Quietly, she set off for the mountains. Suddenly, she saw her sister-in-law sitting by the roadside, weeping bitterly. She grabbed her hand and said:
"Don’t cry, sister-in-law! I’ve brought you a pancake made from white flour and some millet soup. Eat and drink to satisfy your hunger and thirst!"

The daughter-in-law, tears streaming down her face, replied:
"If I’m thirsty, I’ll drink from a spring. If I’m hungry, I’ll eat bitter herbs."

The girl asked again:
"Why are you so sad, sister-in-law? Don’t hide it from me—tell me everything. I know your heart!"

The daughter-in-law, still weeping, answered:
"Sister, I’ve searched all over the Southern Mountain and the Northern Mountain, but I’ve only found a few mulberry leaves. There are plenty of oak leaves, though. I don’t know how I’ll face your mother!"

The girl combed her sister-in-law’s hair, wiped her tears, and said:
"Don’t be afraid, sister-in-law. Eat the pancake, drink the soup, and we’ll go together to gather mulberry leaves."

It took some convincing, but the girl finally got her sister-in-law to eat a bit of the pancake and drink some soup. Then the two of them set off to search for mulberry leaves.

As they walked, they talked, sometimes wandering into deep ravines, sometimes climbing to the very tops of the mountains. They searched every mountain and ridge, but all they found were oak trees—no mulberry trees in sight. The daughter-in-law saw the sun about to dip behind the mountains and said through her tears:
"It’ll be dark soon, sister. The wolves will come out of their dens, and the tigers will leave their caves. You should go home quickly, dear sister!"

But the girl replied:
"It’ll be dark soon, sister-in-law! The wolves will come out of their dens, and the tigers will leave their caves. Let’s go home together, dear sister-in-law!"

The daughter-in-law looked at her empty basket and said:
"Sister, I’ll wait a little longer. Perhaps the mountain spirit will take pity on me and turn these oak leaves into mulberry leaves."

The girl answered her:
...
— And I, dear sister-in-law, will wait with you. Perhaps the mountain spirit will take pity on me and turn the oak leaves into mulberry leaves.

They took each other's hands, pressed close together, and began to descend the mountain. They reached a mountain spring, circled another mountain, searched all the ridges—but found no mulberry leaves, only oak leaves. The sister-in-law noticed the sun had disappeared behind the mountain, hid herself behind the girl's back, wiped her tears, and said:

— You see, sister, how the sky has darkened. Soon the moon will rise. I've heard that the Prince of the Mountain himself lives on this peak, with a red nose and green eyes. Dear sister! You're still so young, you should hurry home!

The girl replied:

— You see, sister-in-law, how the sky has darkened. Soon the moon will rise. I too have heard that the Prince of the Mountain has a red nose and green eyes. Let's return home together!

The sister-in-law gazed at the clear, transparent spring and said:

— I'll wait here a little longer. Perhaps the water spirit will take pity on me and turn the oak leaves into mulberry leaves.

The girl answered:

— I'll wait with you. Perhaps the water spirit will take pity on me too and turn the oak leaves into mulberry leaves.

They took each other's hands, pressed close together, and walked away from the spring. They reached the edge of the mountain forest. They circled all the mountains, searched all the ridges, but saw no mulberry trees—only oaks.

The sister-in-law saw the moon rise, and anxiety overcame her again. She began to urge the girl to return home. But the girl wouldn't listen. The sister-in-law wept. Anxiety also overcame the girl: the moon had risen, and the sister-in-law's basket was still empty. Then the southern wind began to blow and whistle: oo-oo. The water in the gorge chimed: ding-dong. The girl lifted her head and shouted:

— Prince of the Mountain! Prince of the Mountain! Turn the oak leaves into mulberry leaves, and I will marry you!

As soon as she fell silent, the leaves on the oaks rustled. The girl straightened up and shouted a second time:

— Prince of the Mountain! Prince of the Mountain! Turn the oak leaves into mulberry leaves, and I will marry you!

As soon as she fell silent, the branches on the oaks swayed and thrashed. And a third time the girl shouted:

— Prince of the Mountain! Prince of the Mountain! Turn the oak leaves into mulberry leaves, and I will marry you!

As soon as she fell silent, a hurricane swept across the plain, shrouding the sky and earth in a black veil, roaring and howling all around. Suddenly the wind died down, and the moon emerged from behind the clouds. Where the oaks had stood, now there were only mulberry trees.

The girl and the sister-in-law marveled at the wondrous sight, rejoicing. They waved their arms and began to pluck the leaves. The leaves were green, like emeralds, each as large as a palm. They had barely begun to gather them when the basket was already full. Together they lifted it and began to descend the mountain.

At home, the old woman was frantic, not knowing where her daughter had gone. She was overjoyed when she saw her child, as if she had found a priceless treasure. But when she saw the sister-in-law, it seemed to her as if a nail had been driven straight into her eye. She didn't even glance at the mulberry leaves, only scolded the sister-in-law for taking her daughter into the mountains. As punishment, she forbade the sister-in-law from sleeping, ordering her to watch over the silkworms all night.

The next day, the sister-in-law went back to the mountains for more leaves, and the girl brought her a cake made of white flour. On the mountains and ridges, not a single oak was to be seen—only mulberry trees grew there. Soon the silkworms began to spit out thread and spin their cocoons.

One day, as the sister-in-law and the old woman's daughter sat at home unraveling the cocoons, black clouds rolled in from the northwest, followed by a black whirlwind. One end of the whirlwind reached into the sky, while the other swept across the earth, shaking trees, uprooting them, tearing roofs from houses. Before the girl could even gasp, the whirlwind caught her and carried her away. The sister-in-law panicked and even wept. She ran after the black whirlwind, but it threw trees and branches in her path to scratch her, sand and stones to injure her hands. Yet she kept running. She fell, got back up, and ran again. She was beside herself, chasing the whirlwind, shouting:

— Prince of the Mountain, give me back my sister!

The black whirlwind sped into the mountains, and the sister-in-law followed. The mulberry trees blinded the poor woman, and she didn't notice where the whirlwind had vanished. She searched on the Front Mountain, wandered the Western Mountain, wearing out her thick, sturdy soles. She searched day and night, the thorny brambles tearing her dress to shreds. She searched and searched but could not find her sister. She couldn't even find her trail.

Spring passed, summer ended, and autumn arrived. Every blade of grass in the mountains knew that the poor woman was searching for her sister and spread itself beneath her feet to make her walk softer. Every apple tree in the mountains knew it too and stretched out its branches with ripe fruit to her. And all the birds knew. They decided to save her from the cold. They plucked their down, tore out their feathers, and threw them to the sister-in-law. The down and feathers swirled like snowflakes, covering the poor woman.

The next day, the north wind blew, and the sister-in-law turned into a beautiful bird, her body covered in down and feathers. She flew and cried:

— Zhao gu, zhao gu! I'm looking for my sister, looking for my sister!

The cold passed, and spring returned. But the beautiful bird still flew among the emerald mulberry trees, crying:

— Zhao gu, zhao gu! I'm looking for my sister, looking for my sister!

The bird flew over endless fields, across the blue sky with white clouds, and cried:

— Zhao gu, zhao gu! I'm looking for my sister, looking for my sister!

Months passed, years went by, but she still flew and cried. People pitied the bird and named her Zhaogu—Seeking Sister.

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The Bird Zhǎogǔ

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