Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio, Vol. 1

was a round piece of skin like a cash A Chinese copper coin with a square hole in the middle.; and my father, waking from sleep, found that I, just born, had a similar black patch on my body. As a child, I was thin and constantly ailing, and unable to hold my own in the battle of life. Our home was chill and desolate as a monastery; and working there for my livelihood with my pen Literally, “ploughing with my pen,” a metaphor for the struggle of a scholar to earn a living., I was as poor as a priest with his alms-bowl The patra, or bowl, used by Buddhist monks for begging.. Often and often I put my hand to my head A common Chinese gesture when one is in deep thought or perplexity. and exclaimed, “Surely he who sat with his face to the wall A reference to the priest Dharma-nandi, who sat facing a rock in silent meditation for nine years until his image was imprinted upon it. was myself in a previous state of existence;” and thus I attributed my failure in this life to the influence of a destiny surviving from the last. I have been tossed here and there at the mercy of the ruling wind, like a flower falling into filthy places; but the six paths The six conditions of existence in Buddhism: angels, men, demons, hungry devils, brute beasts, and the damned. of reincarnation are mysterious indeed, and I have no right to complain. As it is, midnight finds me with a dying lamp, while the wind whistles mournfully outside; and over my cheerless table I piece together my tales A metaphor for patching together scraps of information, like using the fur under a fox's legs to make a robe., vainly hoping to produce a sequel to the Infernal Regions.