The Goddess of the Stove

In Shandong Province, there is a county called Linzi, and in its southern part, in the village of Xindianzhen, on the eastern edge, stands a small temple. Inside this temple, there is a statue of a beautiful eighteen-year-old girl. The people call her Lu-gu—the Goddess of the Furnace—and thus the temple is known as the Temple of the Goddess of the Furnace. Here is the legend of the brave Lu-gu.

I do not know under which dynasty or in which era, but not far from Xindianzhen lived a blacksmith named Zhang. He owned nothing but a large hammer and strong, skillful hands. These were what fed him. Though poor, the blacksmith was kind. The villagers loved him and called him Master Zhang.

Early in life, the blacksmith lost his family, as they say, halfway through his journey. Many years ago, his wife died, and he grieved as if half the sky had collapsed on him. Where could such a poor man find the money to marry again? All he had were his hands, which kept him alive. And so, the blacksmith lived as a bachelor.

He lived with his daughter, nicknamed Zheng-zhu. All the responsibilities fell on him: earning a living, managing the household, and raising his daughter—replacing her mother. Whether long or short, the years passed, and the girl turned seventeen. She blossomed like a flower in a garden.

And then, something unexpected happened.

To the west of Xindianzhen lay the village of Jinlinzhen, and to its north rose the Phoenix Mountain—Fenghuangshan—a true treasure trove. In that mountain, heavy black stones were mined, which were smelted in furnaces into iron—the best in the world. Thus, the mountain was called the Iron Mountain. But at the time when the blacksmith lived, no one knew about these stones from Phoenix Mountain. They lay there untouched. But one day, a remarkable event occurred. From that day, everything began.

One night, flames suddenly erupted on Phoenix Mountain, and from those flames emerged a gigantic ox, a zhang in length and over eight chi in height. It did not eat the grass growing on the mountain but instead rushed straight to the fields.

Day and night, the ox trampled the crops, destroying thirty mu in a day and sixty in two. The peasants grew anxious and began to think of how to deal with this calamity, saying:

"If the ox tramples all our crops, we'll have to feed on cold wind this winter!"

The elders insisted:

"The Heavenly Emperor has sent this punishment for our sins, for the evil we have done. We must submit and earnestly beg the iron ox to spare us."

They bought the best meat, slaughtered a chicken, and set out eight bowls of fatty fish and meat on four trays. They knelt before the ox, pleading for mercy. But the ox paid no heed and continued to trample the crops day and night.

The young men grew furious, clenching their fists, and said:

"What is there to think about? Whether this ox is holy or not, we must seize it, and that's that."

The young men gathered at once, took large sickles and sharp carpenter's axes, and began to strike the ox, sparks flying in all directions. The young men's arms grew weary, their blades dulled, but the iron ox, as they say, did not lose even a single hair.

They tried to appease the ox—it did not work. They tried to subdue it by force—again, nothing happened. The people grew despondent. Some advised going to the city to file a complaint with the county magistrate, while others said it would be useless, for if the people could not overcome this evil force, the magistrate would certainly fail as well!

Eventually, they decided to go to the county and seek help. They chose several representatives and sent them with a complaint to the Linzixian yamen.

At that time, the county magistrate was Wu Tian-li. His only concern was rank and wealth; he never thought of the people. When he heard about the iron ox, he thought, "Here is a chance to gain fame." He consulted with his officials and issued an edict: all the blacksmiths of the county were to subdue the iron ox within five days. Anyone who shirked would be punished severely.

The edict reached Master Zhang and the other blacksmiths. They did not dare to disobey, dropped all their work, and began to think of how to subdue the iron ox. They decided to build a large smelting furnace and drive the ox into it.

For five days and five nights, the flames raged, but the iron ox did not lose even a single hair. The magistrate, as they say, did not bother to distinguish between blue, red, black, or white. He ordered the blacksmiths to be given forty lashes each. Then he selected two of the most skilled, gave them another five days, and threatened to behead them if they did not subdue the ox.

When Zheng-zhu heard of the magistrate's order, a heavy weight settled on her heart. Day and night, her father did not leave the smelting furnace. She brought him food and saw that the masters' faces were grim, and no one touched the food. The girl approached the furnace and peered inside: there stood the iron ox, terrifying, shaking its head, black smoke pouring from its mouth. The girl thought, "This calamity has befallen the peasants. If they do not subdue it, not only will my father and the blacksmiths lose their lives, but the ox will trample all the crops, and the people will have nothing to eat."

Then Zheng-zhu remembered how her grandmother had told her as a child about a girl who threw herself into a furnace to help people smelt iron, and she thought, "I would not spare my life, if only to defeat the ox. At least I would not have died in vain."

The girl untied the ribbon she used to fasten her socks at the ankles and threw it onto the ox's horn. What a marvel! The horn turned red and instantly melted. Seeing this, Zheng-zhu clenched her teeth, steadied herself, and jumped into the furnace before anyone could stop her. The blacksmiths rushed to the furnace, but it was too late: the flames raged, and Zheng-zhu stood there, holding tightly to the ox. In less than a minute, the ox melted like a snowball in the sun, softened, and collapsed. The flames subsided. Neither the girl nor the ox remained in the furnace; it was filled with red, fiery metal.

Master Zhang grieved for his beloved daughter, his sorrow indescribable, and the blacksmiths wept, shedding tears for the brave girl.

When the magistrate heard that the people had been saved from calamity and that the obedient daughter had sacrificed her life to save her father, he decided to take credit for it. He mounted his horse and raced to Xindianzhen. He approached the furnace and peered inside. Then black smoke billowed from the furnace straight into the magistrate's face. He staggered back and fell on his back. The guards rushed to him, lifted him up, and saw that the magistrate's eyes were gone—eaten away by the black smoke. The molten metal, red as fire, gradually turned into a large iron ingot.

The people did not forget the young Zheng-zhu, who had saved them with her death. In her memory, they built a temple, erected a statue inside, and named her Lu-gu—the Goddess of the Furnace. On holidays, whether winter or summer, spring or autumn, people come to the temple to pay their respects to the Goddess of the Furnace.

At the entrance to the temple hang two plaques, inscribed with the words: "Glory to those who bravely leap into the fire to save others!"

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The Goddess of the Stove

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