Cowherd and Weaver Girl
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The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl
A very long time ago, the sky was not as high as it is now and divine beings were not so far away from human beings on Earth. What happened to cause this great divide? The following is one telling of the sorrowful tale of two truly star-crossed lovers. Situated in a small village near a hill, there was a household with two brothers. Their parents died when they were still young, so the younger brother had to live with his elder brother and sister-in-law. Because his brother’s wife disliked the young man, she forced her husband to divide up the property and force the younger brother out of the household. The younger brother thus left the family with only an ox that was very old, so old that no one remembered when it came to the household. Without a home and having nowhere to go, the younger brother roamed aimlessly with the old ox until he found a cave in a high mountain outside the village. He cleaned up the cave and settled down there. In the mountain wilderness, day by day, the younger brother diligently cultivated the wild land with a pick-ax along with the old ox, from early morning until nightfall. With painstaking effort, they were finally rewarded with a rich harvest of grain and vegetables. When the fall came, the younger brother was able to feed himself. He then started to construct a thatched cottage for shelter. Since the younger brother didn’t have a name and because he was always with his ox, he was eventually called Niulang, which means cowherd. Though he worked industriously every day, from time to time, Cowherd would lean on his ox at rest to look up at the sky and gaze at the clouds and the stars. As the ox was his only company, Cowherd often talked to it as family and called it Ox Brother. He talked to the ox, saying idly, “Ah, Ox, my only companion, the clouds in the sky are a different color every day. They are white, red, or gray. Who on earth makes them so colorful and beautiful?” “Ox Brother, are there really fairies in Heaven? Legend has it that the colorful clouds are woven by fairies. Are those fairies very beautiful? Are they particularly compassionate…?” Day after day, Cowherd asked these questions and answered himself at his leisure. One day, to his surprise, the cow answered him, saying “Yes, those colorful clouds are woven by a fairy named Zhinu (Weaver Girl), who is the youngest daughter of the Heavenly Queen.” Cowherd was so shocked that he jumped right up from the ground to look around, and asked, “Is there anyone there? Who was talking just now?” After looking around awhile, he discovered nobody was there but him and the ox. “Is it possible that it was my old ox talking to me?” he wondered aloud. “Ah! How on earth could you talk?” In answer, the old ox told him that fairies would fly from Heaven to the Western Hills around noontime the following day; that they would bathe in the spring there. It also told him to hide behind a tree and stealthily take the youngest fairy’s feather cloak. By doing so, it said, the fairy would not be able to fly back to Heaven, and he could ask her to marry him. The following day, Cowherd made his way with the ox all the way from his cottage to the Western Hills. Upon arriving at top of the hill, he found there really was a lake with crystal clear water surrounded by lush mountains and beautiful scenery. Cowherd wondered aloud, “Ox Brother, we’ve been to the Western Hills, but why didn’t we see this spring and this lake before?” When it was close to noontime, they saw big beautiful birds flying toward them from the horizon. As soon as the birds reached the spring, the colorful plumage on their bodies fell off all of a sudden, and they turned into beautiful fairies. Cowherd held his breadth, and identified the disguise of the youngest fairy that the ox had mentioned and crept up to the site. He snatched up the cloak and quickly ran away with it. Frightened by his presence, all of the fairies hurriedly came out of the spring. They put on their feathery frocks to fly back to Heaven, all except the youngest one. Failing to find her plumage, she had no choice but to stay earthbound. Cowherd came out of hiding and made a deep bow to Weaver Girl, saying, “Dear Fairy! I am Cowherd. Will you marry me and become my wife? I am poor, but I am hard-working and capable. Please stay with me, won’t you?” The timid Weaver Girl nodded her head. Cowherd helped Weaver Girl up onto the ox’s back to ride home with him. From that day forward, he worked on the farm and she wove wonderful cloth at home. Always together and never apart, they lived their lives with great devotion and Cowherd was no longer lonely. During the day, he had someone to prepare his meals, and at night he had someone to talk to. The people of the village all said that Cowherd was a good person who had encountered good fortune for Weaver Girl was beautiful, smart, and also very skillful. She even taught the women of the village to weave and how to cultivate silkworms. All the villagers loved her. She was the same as a human being except that she didn’t eat, for an old saying goes that deities do not eat human food. She never seemed to get hungry, and yet she was always so full of energy, always so beautiful. Over the years, Weaver Girl gave birth to a pair of twins: a girl and a boy. Yet, happy days are always short lived. One day, the old ox said to Cowherd: “Dear, Cowherd, I’ve become quite old and it is my time to leave. When I die, don’t throw away my hide. Keep it and when you are in danger, wear it. It will help you.” After it finished speaking, the old ox passed away. Cowherd was very grieved. Ox Brother had helped him tremendously before. Still, he did as the old ox requested and kept its hide. Their idyllic life went on for nearly another year. Then one day, Weaver Girl suddenly said to Cowherd, “My husband, I have to leave today. I must return to the Heavenly Palace. You and I were once joined by fate, that’s why we could become husband and wife. But that affinity ended today. The Jade Emperor has called me back.” “It’s been several years since I came to the mortal world. However, a year in the world of mortals is equal to a day in Heaven. Look at the clouds in the sky, they’ve started to thin out. In a moment, heavenly soldiers sent by the Jade Queen will come and escort me back. I must say farewell to you now. From now on, you have to take care of yourself.” She quickly took out the multi-colored feather cloak and put it on. An anxious Cowherd grabbed Weaver Girl, shedding tears. At that moment, the sky cracked open and globes of light floated down, turning into heavenly soldiers. The Custodian of the Gods came before them, saluted Weaver Girl and said: “My Lady, Weaver Girl, today we have received a compassionate order from the Jade Queen to escort you back to the Heavenly Palace.” Weaver Girl nodded without a word, turned to look at Cowherd, then followed the heavenly soldiers and started to fly back with them. Cowherd panicked and yelled out to Weaver Girl, “You can’t go!” He picked up a yoked sling with two baskets, and in each basket he put his son and his daughter. He then picked up the yoked baskets and ran to catch up. But how could he? He watched as Weaver Girl flew higher and farther. Suddenly, Cowherd remembered the old ox’s words and hurriedly threw the skin over himself and the children. Instantly, he felt his whole body become lighter and he was able to fly. He was actually flying high and skimming the clouds, rising up into the sky. Soon he would catch up to Weaver Girl and the others. Cowherd’s hopes grew and he kept shouting out to the Weaver Girl, “Wait for me!” The chase was about to reach the Heavenly Gates when, all of a sudden, a great river billowed up in front of them. It was the legendary Celestial River. You know it as the Milky Way. The heavenly river is boundless and several miles wide, with ferocious waves, and so deep that you cannot see the bottom. Cowherd watched as Weaver Girl and the heavenly soldiers floated over the river. He lifted the basket sling and tried to cross it, too. But when he reached the shore he just couldn’t cross and was stuck on the other side. Worried, Cowherd silently shouted to Ox Brother, “Please help me!” His pleas were answered as Cowherd heard a voice that sounded like the old ox’s near his ear: “My, dear, Cowherd, I can only help you up to this point. Here, the Celestial River separates mortals from immortals.” “It is the boundary between the heavenly world and the human world. Only heavenly people and Gods can cross the Celestial River; humans cannot. One step into the Celestial River and you will sink to the bottom. This is because the human body is too heavy. When Cowherd heard this, he couldn’t help crying. He kept trying to cross, unwilling to leave, all the while crying out to the Weaver Girl. From that time on, a bright shining star appeared next to the Celestial River, which people call Altair. This star is Cowherd on the earthly side of the river and the little stars beside him are his son and daughter. Year after year, he stands on the riverbank, looking at the far shore and calling out to Weaver Girl. Legend has it that the Jade Queen was moved by Cowherd’s true love for Weaver Girl, so she allowed the faithful pair to meet once each year on the night of Qi Xi (the seventh day of the seventh month according to the Chinese lunar calendar). On that day, thousands of magpies from the human world gather on the shores of the Celestial River and form a living bridge. Cowherd and Weaver Girl meet on this special bridge. People say that on that night, if you listen from under a blackberry bush or in the quiet moonlight, you’ll hear the loving whispers of the reunited Cowherd and Weaver Girl. It is also said that, on that particular day, you won’t be able to find a single magpie in the human world because they’ve all gone to the Celestial River to make the bridge. This year, according to the solar calendar, Qi Xi is Aug 2. So, friends, on that day, be sure to listen carefully for the sounds of true love. Translation by Billy Shyu and Tan Hohua.
Chinese Folktale--”The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl”
By Urey Chan Seventh Evening Festival The 7th day of the 7th month in the lunar calendar is known as Chinese Valentine’s Day or the Seventh Evening Festival (Chinese: “七夕节”, Pinyin: Qī xī jié). For many people, it is a very special day as they use this opportunity to find potential lovers. Nowadays, people will give each other chocolates, roses, or presents nowadays. It is also said to rain around this time of year because two lovers have reunited together on this single night. Traditional custom of weaving decorations, from www.chinadaily.com.cn Now for the story… The reason that it rains on this day is based on one of the most well-known Chinese folk legends--“The Cowherd and the Weaving Girl”--(Chinese: 牛郎与织女, Pinyin: Niú láng yǔ Zhī nü). There are many variations of this folk-tale. This is the following variation that I have heard within my family with some slight modifications. Once upon a time, there were seven goddesses who lived in heaven. They were all sisters. One night, they took a trip to the mortal world. They wanted to explore over there since it was difficult to obtain permission from the Empress goddess. They decided to bathe together in a lake which was located near a cowherd’s home. The cowherd’s name is Niulang (Chinese: 牛郎, Pinyin: Niú láng). They laughed and splashed water around. Because of the sounds, the cowherd woke up from his sleep and decided to check what the commotion was about. Once he stepped out into the open area, he saw all of them...and that was when his eyes laid sight on one of the goddesses--Zhinu (Chinese: 织女, Pinyin: Zhī nü). They fell in love immediately and had two children. The other sisters became worried because it was illegal for a goddess to marry a mortal man. In fact, they did not want the Goddess of Heaven to find out. But, she ended up finding out, ordering Zhinu to return back to heaven to resume her weaving duties. How does the story conclude? Niulang was very sad and upset. What would life be without Zhinu? Seeing this, his ox started to speak and tell him that if Niulang would kill the ox and put on the hide, he will be able to travel to heaven see Zhinu. Crying, the cowherd killed the ox and put on the hide and also carried his two children to find Zhinu. This made the Goddess of Heaven furious and created a large river to separate them as far as possible. However, the cowherd did not give up. Together with Zhinu’s six other sisters, it took a very long time until the Goddess of Heaven made the decision to allow Niulang to see Zhinu on a single night in the 7th day of July each year. In preparation for this event, magpies form a bridge for them to see each other. Once they reunite, it starts to rain because both lovers and the magpies are sad. Milky Way Arch Galaxy (Photo Courtesy of Yoshiko Nakamura) from www.seattledigitalphoto.com There are many variations on this story. For example, the Goddess of Heaven is referred to as Zhinu’s mother. Or that the Goddess became soft as she saw that Niulang and Zhinu cried due to separation and allowed them to see each other. OK…Now what? This year, the Qixi festival will occur August 9th within the Gregorian calendar. Around this time, Niulang and Zhinu will reuniting together. This could be a good time to find your potential lover. It is also a time to pray for Zhinu and Niulang’s safe reunion. What makes this story admirable is that Niulang has endured a lot to reunite with Zhinu. There were certainly many obstacles that prevented their reunion. However, Niulang never gave up on reuniting with Zhinu. Therefore, why must we give up if the obstacles seem tough or nearly impossible? It is a matter of how will we deal with them. In the meantime, I invite you to take a look at other folk-tales from around the world! I would recommend starting with this very interesting blog which explains the origin behind Lunar New Year.
The Cowherd and The Weaver Girl
by Zhou Tingfeng I He rises from his slumber before the sun has come up. There are no sounds in his small hut but for the rustling of grass, the gentle snoring of his cow, and, if one listens carefully enough, the faint whispering of the stars, though one might rightly be sceptical about this last part. The boy bends his thick torso and itches one calloused foot with the other, he yawns, flexes his sinewed arms and gets up. The pale mud hut is bathed in the bluish grey of pre-dawn. But for cow, which the boy has seen no need to name as it's his only one, he is entirely alone in the world and has been ever since the death of his parents, when he but was a small child. Because of this, no one knows the name that was given him but only the name that he has, Niulang, which means cowherd. The morning has begun like any other, a statement which would ring false in any case, for no two days are the same, but in this case is especially so, for it is in fact Nuilang's birthday, only he does not know it. He is turning eighteen, though he does not know this either, nor would you guess from the years on his face that he had only just become a man,what with those well-defined creases at the corners of his eyes and that sun-beaten brow, if you saw him ploughing the land or carrying a pail of water across his back, you would swear that he was at least twenty-six or twenty-seven, despite our having called him a boy. For a man, at least so the narrator has been told, and as confirmed by countless television dating shows, this is not such a terrible thing, to look older than one's years,the creases on a man's face speak of maturity and wisdom, onerously earned through suffering the ravages of life. For a woman, on the other hand, it's a fate worse than death. It has been this way since time immemorial, or at least the beginning of recorded history, when one person or another, most likely a man, said, Isn't it awful when a woman's face starts to wrinkle,this was then repeated by another person, most likely also a man, until it became the irrefutable truth that it is today. Nuilang rubs the cow's belly, as he has every morning for as long as he can remember. How did you sleep, faithful cow, Niulang asks, but unlike every other morning, on this morning, the cow speaks back. Well, the cow replies, as you know, I'm sleeping on nothing but damp earth and a thin bed of grass, the same as you, but, all things considered, I slept very well, after all, I'm only a cow, I should thank you for letting me sleep in the mud hut with you, most people just leave us outside come what may, they think that because we're cows we don't feel the rain or cold or sleet, this is without mentioning sunstroke, which is especially dicey for a cow. Nuilang cannot believe his ears,he taps himself twice on the head to make sure everything is where it's supposed to be,he must not have gotten enough sleep, though that would be strange, as he had gone to sleep and risen from bed at the same time as every other day,perhaps he is still dreaming, yes, that must be it, or maybe, finally, he has gone mad from being alone all these years. Before he can descend any further into madness, the cow speaks again, Don't be so surprised, you humans think that only you speak, because you are humans, and that we cannot, because we are cows,it's true that we prefer to moo, but this does not mean we cannot speak. Niulang could not find any fault with the cow's logic, having been alone for so long, he wasn't exactly well-honed in the in the ins and outs of rhetoric,if he was, he might have responded, Everyone knows that man can speak, but this is the first documented case of a cow speaking, clearly, I am going mad from the need to talk to someone who will talk back to me. Seeing that Nuilang is satisfied with its explanation, the cow continues, I can see you've gotten quite lonely, this is no life for a man, to spend all his days working, with only a cow for company, why don't you take on a wife. The thought had never occurred to Nuilang, A wife, he asks, astonished, I'm but a humble cowherd, with hardly a possession to my name, except for you, a cow, that is, what makes you think a woman would want to marry me. Tomorrow, go to the river, the cow replies, Today is your eighteenth birthday, you're of a marrying age. How do you know all these things, the cowherd asks the cow. If you prefer, you can think of me as a god, as the Hindus do, we all must believe in something, and a cow is as good as a sheep or an elephant or a man. II Nuilang drags his weary feet along the riverbed. He is wearing his father's old leather sandals for protection, and this is just as well, because he has been trudging along this muddy creek for the last four hours without a single felicitous coincidence, divine, bovine or otherwise. The trail along the river is uneven and the stones prick at his feet, which, despite the sandals, are aching something awful, perhaps something has managed to lodge itself into his foot, a thistle or burr, and, if this were not enough, the sun beats mercilessly down, the cowherd thinks to himself, I'm sweating like a cow, which was not quite the phrase he was looking for, it must be the sun. Perhaps he should have asked the cow to be a bit more specific when it told him to go to the river. The cowherd sits down by the river and unstraps his sandals. A small stone has lodged itself into the ball of his foot, flat on one side curving to a sharp edge where it has dug into his foot,in his heat-induced daze, it reminds him of the hoe he uses to loosen the hard earth in front of the mud hut, only in this case, his calloused foot is the soilit is backbreaking work, hoeing the arid soil, but the stone has wedged itself in his foot without any aid whatsoever, if only his hoe had such initiative. The cowherd's foot is bleeding, the wound dribbling with puss, without another moment's delay, the cowherd pulls the stone out, Ow. The tip of the stone which had been lodged in the cowherd's foot now sits in his calloused hand, smeared with purplish blood glimmering in the mid-afternoon sun. The cowherd's eyes pass over his wound, and he starts to feel faint. Though we have thus far portrayed the cowherd as an unflinching, stoical type, capable of taking any calamity in his stride with a shrug and a determined grimace, he has from a young age been squeamish at the sight of blood,just because a man has been hardened by life and labour, does not mean he won't be squeamish at the sight of blood, and just because a man is squeamish at the sight of blood, does not mean he will be squeamish about other things. In the end, we all have things we are squeamish about, and this is nothing to be ashamed of. At any rate, the cowherd does not faint but plunges the stone into the cold running stream, and, after only a few moments, the stone is as if new, its wet surface gleaming in the light. He takes the stone out of the stream, letting it sit in the palm of his leathery hand. The cowherd is suddenly pricked by a pang of anger. He has been duped by his own desperate longing for company, he has exhausted himself for nothing, trudging this miserable river for the last four hours,how foolish he was to think that he would find a girl here to marry, one with whom he might gaze upon the stars, exchanging fantastical stories about the kinds of animals those luminous clusters of hydrogen and helium resemble, and, also, perhaps, who might also help him with his laundry and with tidying up the mud hut once in a while. How could he possibly have believed the words of a cow, in fact, how could he possibly have believed that a cow could talk in the first place. Nuilang flings the small stone into the river with all his might. But instead of breaking the surface of the water and plummeting to the bottom like other stones that have been flung there in anger, this stone, which just a moment ago had been lodged in the cowherd's foot and which may or may not resemble a hoe, skips exquisitely off the stream, darting off the water, two times, three times, four, a highly irregular occurrence for a stone so small, five times, six times, seven times, before finally plopping into the water for good and sinking to the bottom of the stream. This highly irregular occurrence is immediately followed by one even more irregular, contrary to our earlier pessimism, we now hear the sound of a girl giggling. The cowherd turns toward it. Hitherto, those things which he had found to be beautiful were things like the way in which the sun crept along the walls of the mud hut in the mornings, warming the bales of hay on which he slept, or the tussles of long grass surrounding his mud hut being tossed by a violent wind, or the way that the dew would settle over his cow's eyelids in the winter before it woke. But the girl before him was more beautiful than all of those things put together. The girl stops giggling as soon as she realises she has been spottedshe looks at the cowherd, with his mangy hair and small eyes, blinks twice, then casts her gaze downwards. Inside, her heart is still giggling, we know this because this is one of the advantages of being the narrator, and, also, if we look closely enough, we can see a faint smile crinkling her cheeks, in the same way that, if we listen closely enough, we can hear the stars whispering in the morning. It is not too late to renounce your scepticism. What's your name, the cowherd asks. His heart is beating fast, even though he has been sitting down. I don't know the name I was given, she replies, but I know the name I have, Zhinu, which means weaver girl, because I weave. She is sitting against cypress tree with gnarled old branches, and, resting on her lap and organised into a neat bundle are strips of long, flat leaves, some of which have been woven together. What are those, Nuilang asks. This is what I use to weave with, and this place by the river is the best place to come to gather it, haven't you noticed all the flax around here. In fact, the cowherd hadn't, because he had been too busy looking at her. Zhinu has a strange accent, she doesn't sound like she is from around here, or perhaps it is simply that Nuilang is not used to hearing the sound of another human voice. Having now heard it again, he realises that he cannot again live without it, and he wants nothing more than for the weaver girl to speak again. Your foot is hurt, Zhinu says. She kneels down next to the cowherd, and taking several of the leaves from her bundle, she wraps the ball of Nuilang's foot where the stone has broken his skin. Does that feel better, Zhinu asks, but Nuilang barely notices the flax, instead he notices how her hand feels on his mangled ankles and how her hands are just as calloused as his. Next to her, resting gently on the damp soil next to the river, are the leaves that she has already woven together into a small arch. It's going to be a basket, Zhinu says. It looks like a bridge. It's not finished yet, this is just the bottom of the basket, that's why it looks like a bridge. For a short time, neither of them speak, all that can be heard is the trickling of the stream over rocks. Then Zhinu speaks again, I can teach you if you like, we can take turns, I'll attach one leaf to the basket, and then you attach the next one, and then we can weave them together, here, why don't you go first. Zhinu places a leaf in Nuilang's hand, it has a rougher texture than he expected. He attaches it clumsily to the existing weaving, he has no idea what he is doing, but it is better than doing nothing at all, because although he doesn't know what he is doing, he is doing it with her, which we know to be true because at this precise moment, Zhinu threads a leaf underneath the one that Nuilang had just placed. He adds another leaf to the basket-to-be, and she another, where they are going, neither of them knows, but they are going there together, and this is what matters. The reason I like weaving, she says, is because you can place a leaf at any angle that you want, and, even if you try to do the same weave, even if you try to weave the same thing, it will always be slightly different. So in the end, the number of combinations is infinite, just as at any moment in time, the number of things that could happen is infinite. The words have barely left her mouth when it suddenly begins to rain. It is pouring down, the weaver girl runs to the cypress tree for cover, the cowherd sees no reason to plod either, they are now both hunched under the gnarled branches where Nuilang first saw the weaver girl. Though Nuilang had not noticed it before, there is a hand-woven umbrella lying on the sodden ground next to the tree truck. Here, take this, Zhinu says, I live quite close to here, you need it more than me. If only the rest of the world thought in this way, from each according to his ability, to each according to his need, but it will still be several millennia before these words are uttered, and then roundly ignored. I really couldn't, Nuilang replies, At any rate, isn't it a bit strange that it's raining in the middle of this dry summer spell. He says this to try to extend the conversation, but at this, the rain gets even heavier, big drops of water pummel down from the heavens, scattering the earth and battering the leaves of the cypress trees, washing the branches and trunks of dirt and mudThe rain doesn't mind me, the weaver girl shouts over the sudden cacophony. Really, I couldn't, the cowherd repeats. Just take it. No. I'll come to your mud hut to retrieve it later, Zhinyu yells. How do you know where I live.Nuilang replies, but the rain is too loud for us to hear her answer. There is nothing for the cowherd to do but agree. They can no longer hear each other over the rain, the cowherd cannot hear what the weaver girl is saying, nor can the weaver girl hear what the cowherd is saying, and if both of them persisted in their stubbornness, they would be left standing there forever, which, the cowherd thought, only after he had clasped the umbrella from her hand, might not be such a bad thing after all. By the time Nuilang has returned to his mud hut, the sun has come out again. The cow sheepishly makes its way out of the little dwelling, but they do not say anything to each other, for there is nothing to say,of course, one or the other could have said, Oh, what an unexpected rain, but as each already knows what the other is thinking, there is no need to say it, although married couples might disagree. The soil is red in the wet, the setting sun is also red, its light piercing the transparent drops of water dripping off the long grass back to the earth. Nuilang stands outside the mud hut, clutches the weaver girl's umbrella, runs his calloused fingers over the fine cross-hatched weave and waits. He imagines her calloused fingers on his foot, and her peculiar accent, and her illogical beauty, which seemed to multiply exponentially every time he looked at her,all of this feels to the cowherd like it happened only moments ago, though it was actually hours, time does not wait for us, but we must wait for it. Hello, the weaver girl says, when she finally turns up at the mud hut. Hello, says the cowherd. Well, here is your umbrella. Did you really think I came back just to get my umbrella, the weaver girl says. They kiss, and, in this moment, the cowherd realises there are things far more miraculous in life than a cow talking. III The next morning, the faint whispering of the stars is much louder than usual. If we didn't know any better, we might even say that their discourse sounds like a family quarrel, one that is getting louder and louder until finally both the cowherd and the weaver girl are awoken by a sound like a clap of thunder, but which is actually just someone knocking loudly on the wooden door of the mud hut. I am the king of heaven, announces the man when the cowherd opens the door. Not again, thinks the cowherd, first my cow starts talking to me, now I have some lunatic at my door claiming to be the king of heaven. Don't look so surprised, says the king of heaven, Granted, the idea takes some getting used to, but in several hundred years' time, people all over europe will accept that god takes the form of a mere man, they will even wage wars to defend the legitimacy of this idea, thousands of innocents will be slaughtered to uphold it, consider my appearance now as a preview, a matinee if you will. I have no idea what you're talking about, the cowherd replies, But at any rate, even if you are the king of heaven, as you claim to be, what are you doing here at my door, I'm but a simple cowherd, who until yesterday, had nothing to his name except for a cow and this mud hut. What is your name, asks the king of heaven. If you really are the king of heaven, as you suggest, surely you already know my name, but at any rate, my name is Niulang, which means cowherd, this is not the name I was given, but the name that I have, because as I have already told you, I have nothing to my name except a cow, apart from this, I have nothing at all, although, come to think of it, this isn't quite true, it's probably time that I changed it, because as of yesterday, I also have the love of a girl who I love in return, and, as anyone will tell you, a man who has not love has nothing, but a man who has love has everything. Stop talking in circles, the king of heaven says, The girl you have just slept with is my daughter. What, says the cowherd. This time, there is no one to tell him not to be so astonished, for this fact is in fact quite astonishing. Just because I am a god, it does not mean I am not also her father, and, quite frankly, I'm appalled at her irresponsible behaviour and your total lack of discernment, what kind person sleeps with the first girl he meets weaving baskets by the river. Anyway, to get back to the point, you must never see her again, she is, so to say, grounded, for the next millennia or two, after which time you'll certainly be dead, even accounting for developments in medical science. To ensure this, her mother and I will watch over her much more closely than we did on this occasion, did you know that her job is to weave the clouds, yes, you heard right, to weave the clouds, this is why there has been such a long draught, we usually give her a summer holiday of a week or two, but this time she really took it too far, did you really think she only weaved with leaves, ha, ha ha, how absurd, how else do you think she commanded the rain to set up your little dalliance. Well, even if you are the king of heaven, as you claim to be, and I must say I'm still not totally convinced, and even if she is your daughter, and she weaves clouds as well as baskets, I don't see what the problem is. The problem, the man who claims to be the king of heaven replies, is that my daughter is a goddess, and you are merely a man, and a totally destitute one at that, in your own words, you have nothing. Actually, the cowherd rebuts, I said I have everything. Let's not split hairs over words. Aren't you also a man, the cowherd asks. It seems that after his dialectical skirmish with the cow, and, having spent the previous day in the happy company of another person, the cowherd's tongue has been loosed, and his critical faculties have improved dramatically. Yes, but I'm also a god. All of this is quite confusing, the cowherd replies. Yes, this is why there will be so many books trying to explain my ontology, but none of them will quite get it right. Oh, says the cowherd, because he does not know what else to say in response. Well, just because I am a cowherd, and she is, well, your daughter, that is, the daughter of a god, love is not governed by laws, and as I told you already, I love her, and I'm quite sure that she also loves me. You really are na?ve, aren't you, haven't you noticed that my daughter has already disappeared, she's safely back in heaven, where she belongs, I only have to think it and it is done, it's all part and parcel of being a god. Everything is subject to the law, and this includes who we can love, and how and how much, as for who it is that determines these laws, that would be me, it's all part and parcel of being a god. IV This is where the various accounts of the story diverge and the events of the story become contentious, one person says this happened, another says that happened, it places the narrator in a rather awkward position, as I'm sure you understand, a story is only supposed to have one true version, even if it is a fiction, and nowhere is this more evident than when we come to the writing of history. The conventional version of what subsequently happened between the cowherd and the weaver girl, which may be found in any collection of chinese folktales for children, usually goes like this. Seeing how heartbroken the cowherd is, the cow speaks again, perhaps out of affection for Nuilang, or perhaps because it feels guilty, after all it was the cow that instructed Niulang to go to the river, which is what set this curlicued chain of events into action. Niulang, the cow says, I'm dying, but don't be too concerned, it all works out in the end, just follow my instructions. After I die, peel off my hide and wear it, you might have to do some alterations, as you know, I'm quite a bit larger than you, and it will be rather unwieldy for you to wear the whole thing, not to mention the fact that it will look rather ridiculous, anyway, if you put on my hide, you'll be able to fly up to the heavens to find Zhinu. After saying this, the cow falls dead. Niulang follows the cow's instructions as best he can, but unbeknownst to him, the king of heaven has been eavesdropping on their conversation, it appears that he wasn't bluffing when he said that he would be watching his daughter much more closely. As they say, god is everywhere at all times, which most often means that he is nowhere at all, this being a rare exception. Armed with this covert reconnaissance, the king of heaven instructs Zhinu's mother to draw a wide and untraversable river in the heavens, so that on the day that Nuilang shrouds himself in cowhide and ascends into the clouds, he cannot, despite all his efforts, cross to the river, where his beloved is awaiting. Separated from each other by this river, which, unlike the river upon which they met, keeps them apart rather than pulls them together, the only thing the cowherd and the weaver girl can do is to look at each other, knowing that they will forever be separated, until all that is left to do is to weep. Seeing what she has done, Zhinu's mother is moved with pity, women are often more sensitive than men to these sorts of things, though if she really sympathised with their plight, she would clearly just let them be together. Instead, Zhinu's mother decides to allow them to cross the river to meet each other once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month of the lunar calendar, by building a bridge out of magpies. This narrator finds the aforementioned version of the events rather dubious, firstly, because we have heard straight from the cow's mouth that we should think of him as being a god, which means that he is immutable and therefore cannot die, secondly, if he were not immutable, the cow would never have offered up his hide in such a nonchalant manner, it is well known that given the choice between saving one's own hide and saving another's, we'll always save our own, and thirdly, the characters we have thus far observed would never have given up so easily, the weaver girl is resourceful and defiant, the cowherd persistent and unflinching, besides which, the weaver girl can weave anything and could have just woven a permanent bridge for them to cross, or perhaps the cowherd could have thrown himself into the river, like the stone he unexpectedly skipped that day, until he reached the other side, love trusts all things, hopes all things, believes all things, endures all things. As for the magpies, it is simply bad storytelling, everyone knows that if you show a gun at the beginning of the story, it has to go off at the end, at least everyone has known this since Chekhov said it, and the magpies really just appear out of nowhere, there is no explanation for them at all. So let us consider a second version of the story, one that is only ever whispered in hushed tones, for fear that the stars will hear, it is for this same reason that the stars only ever talk in a whisper, rather than at a normal volume. In this second version, the cowherd and the weaver girl spread the story of the first version far and wide, until it has been told so many times that the king of heaven is secure in the knowledge that it must be true. In actual fact, the cowherd and the weaver girl have performed the old switcheroo, the switcheroo being the story itself. They have substituted the signifier, that is, the story, for themselves, no one knows exactly how they did this, though perhaps it was by one of the means described above. After all this has been done, the cowherd and the weaver girl reunite on earth, with ground beneath their feet and the sun above their heads. Each day, they wake up next to each other and tend to a small garden, they collect flowers in the baskets that they weave together and they weave many other things, never knowing where they will go, but knowing they are going there together. As for the cow, having said all that it needed to say, it never spoke again.
Knowledge Graph
Examples
1 The July 7th of the lunar calendar is considered the Chinese Valentine's day because of the touching love story of the Cowherd and the Girl Weaver.
2 The tale of The Weaver Girl and the Cowherd has been celebrated in the Qixi Festival in China since the Han dynasty
3 There are many variations of the story Cowherd and Weaver Girl.