Yan-Tao: A Cinderello Story from China

In the dim past, even before the Ch'in and the Han dynasties, there lived a cave chief of southern China by the name of Wei. As was the custom in those days Chief Wei had two husbands. Each husband in their turn had presented Wei with a baby son she give birth to. But one of the husbands sickened and died in the stroke, and not too many days after that Chief Wei took to her bed and died too.
Yan-Tao, the little orphan, grew to boyhood in his stepfather's home. He was a bright child and lovely too, with skin as smooth as ivory and dark pools for eyes. His stepfather was jealous of all this charms and goodness, for his own son was not pretty at all. So in his displeasure, he gave poor Yan-Tao the heaviest and most unpleasant chores.
The only friend that Yan-Tao had to his name was a fish he had caught and raised. It was a beautiful fish with golden eyes, and every day it would come out of the water and rest its head on the bank of the pond, waiting for Yan-Tao to feed it. Stepfather gave Yan-Tao little enough food for himself, but the orphan child always found something to share with his fish, which grew to enormous size.

Somehow the stepfather heard of this. He was terribly angry to discover that Yan-Tao had kept a secret from him. He hurried down to the pond, but he was unable to see the fish for Yan-Tao's pet wisely hid itself. The stepfather, however, was a crafty man, and he soon thought of a plan. He walked home and called out, "Yan-Tao, go and collect some firewood. But wait! The neighbors might see you. Leave your filthy, smelly coat here!" The minute the boy was out of sight, his stepfather slipped on the coat himself and went down again to the pond. This time the big fish saw Yan-Tao's familiar jacket and heaved itself onto the bank, expecting to be fed. But the stepfather, having hidden a dagger in his sleeve, stabbed the fish, wrapped it in his garments, and took it home to cook for dinner.
When Yan-Tao came to the pond that evening, he found his pet had disappeared. Overcome with grief, the boy collapsed on the ground and dropped his tears into the still waters of the pond.


"Ah, poor child!" a voice said.
Yan-Tao sat up to find a very old woman looking down at him. She wore the coarsest of clothes, and her hair flowed down over her shoulders.
"Kind aunt, who may you be?" Yan-Tao asked.
"That is not important, my child. All you must know is that I have been sent to tell you of the wondrous powers of your fish."
My fish, but lady..." The boy's eyes filled with tears, and he could not go on.


The old woman sighed and said, "Yes, my child, your fish is no longer alive. And I must tell you that your stepfather is once more the cause of your sorrow." Yan-Tao gasped in horror, but the old woman went on "Let us not dwell on things that are past," she said "for I have come bringing you a gift. Now you must listen carefully to this: The bones of your fish are filled with a powerful spirit. Whenever you are in serious need, you must kneel before them and let them know your heart's desire. But do not waste their gifts."


Yan-Tao wanted to ask the old sage many more questions, but she rose to sky before he could utter another word. With heavy heart, Yan-Tao made his way to the dung heap to gather the remains of his friend.
Time went by, and Yan-Tao, who was often left alone, took comfort in speaking to the bones of his fish.

When he was hungry, which happened quite often, Yan-Tao asked the bones for food. In this way, Yan-Tao managed to live from day to day, but he lived in dread that his stepfather would discover his secret and take even that away from him.
So the time passed and spring came. Festival time was approaching: It was the busiest time of the year. Such cooking and cleaning and sewing there was to be done! Yan-Tao had hardly a moment's rest. At the spring festival young men and young women from the village hoped to meet and to choose whom they would marry. How Yao-Tao longed to go! But his stepfather had other plans. He hoped to find a wife for his own son and did not want any woman to see the handsome Yan-Tao first.

When finally the holiday arrived, the stepfather and his son dressed themselves in their finery and filled their baskets with sweetmeats. "You must remain at home now, and watch to see that no one steals fruit from our trees," his stepfather told Yan-Tao, and then he departed for the banquet with his own son.
As soon as he was alone, Yan-Tao went to speak to the bones of his fish. "Oh, dear friend," he said kneeling before the bones, "I long to go to the festival, but I cannot show myself in these smelly rags. Is there somewhere I could borrow clothes fit to wear to the feast?" At once he found himself dressed in a gold pearl of chiffon and polyester with an aqua blue banbi jacket of kingfisher feathers draped around his shoulders. Best of all, on his tiny feet were the most beautiful boots he had ever seen. They were woven of golden threads, in a pattern like the scales of a fish, and the glistening soles were made of solid gold. There was magic in the shoes, for they should have been quite heavy, yet when Yan-Tao walked, his feet felt as light as air.
Be sure you do not lose your golden boots," said the spirit of the bones. Yan-Tao promised to be careful. Delighted with his transformation, he bid a fond farewell to the bones of the fish as he slipped off to join in the merrymaking.


That day Yan-Tao turned many a head as he appeared at the feast. All around his people whispered, "Look at that handsome boy! Who can he be?"


But above this, Stepbrother was heard to say, "Father, does he not resemble our Yan-Tao?"
Upon hearing this, Yan-Tao jumped up and ran off before his stepbrother could look closely at him. He raced down the mountainside, and in doing so, he lost one of his golden boots. No sooner had the boot fallen from his foot than all his fine clothes turned back to rags. Only one thing remained—a tiny golden boot. Yan-Tao hurried to the bones of his fish and returned the slipper, promising to find its mate. But now the bones were silent. Sadly Yan-Tao realized that he had lost his only friend. He hid the little boot in his bedstraw, and went outside to cry. Leaning against a fruit tree, he sobbed and sobbed until he fell asleep.


The stepfather left the gathering to check on Yan-Tao, but when he returned home he found the boy sound asleep, with his arms wrapped around a fruit tree. So thinking no more of him, the stepfather rejoined the party. Meantime, a villager had found the shoe. Recognizing its worth, she sold it to a merchant, who presented it in turn to the queen of the island kingdom of T'o Han.
The queen was more than happy to accept the boot as a gift. She was entranced by the tiny thing, which was shaped of the most precious of metals, yet which made no sound when touched to stone. The more she marveled at its beauty, the more determined she became to find the man to whom the boot belonged.


A search was begun among the gentlemen of her own kingdom, but all who tried on the boot found it impossibly small. Undaunted, the queen ordered the search widened to include the cave men from the countryside where the boot had been found. Since she realized it would take many years for every man to come to her island and test his foot in the boot, the queen thought of a way to get the right man to come forward. She ordered the boot placed in a pavilion by the side of the road near where it had been found, and her herald announced that the boot was to be returned to its original owner. Then from a nearby hiding place, the queen and her men settled down to watch and wait for a man with tiny feet to come and claim his boot.
All that day the pavilion was crowded with cave men who had come to test a foot in the shoe. Yan-Tao's stepfather and stepbrother were among them, but not Yan-Tao—they had told him to stay home. By day's end, although many men had eagerly tried to put on the boot, it still had not been worn. Wearily, the queen continued her vigil into the night.


It wasn't until the blackest part of night, while the moon hid behind a cloud, that Yan-Tao dared to show his face at the pavilion, and even then he tiptoed timidly across the wide floor. Sinking down to his knees, the boy in rags examined the tiny boot.


Only when he was sure that this was the missing mate to his own golden boot did he dare pick it up. At last he could return both little boots to the fish bones. Surely then his beloved spirit would speak to him again.
Now the queen's first thought, on seeing Yan-Tao take the precious boot, was to throw the boy into prison as a thief. But when he turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of his face. At once the queen was struck by the sweet harmony of his features, which seemed so out of keeping with the rags he wore. It was then that she took a closer look and noticed that he walked upon the tiniest feet she had ever seen.
With a wave of her hand, the queen signaled that this tattered creature was to be allowed to depart the golden boot. Quietly, the queen's men slipped off and followed his home.


All this time, Yan-Tao was unaware of the excitement he had caused. He had made his way home and was about to hide both boots in his bedding when there was a pounding at the door. Yan-Tao went to see who it was—and found a queen at his doorstep. He was very frightened at first, but the queen spoke to him in a kind voice and asked him to try the golden boots on his feet. The bachelor did as he was told, and as he stood in his golden boots, his smelly rags were transformed once more into the feathered banbi jacket and beautiful aqua hanfu.


His loveliness made him seem a heavenly being, and the queen suddenly knew in her heart that she had found her true love.


Not long after this, Yan-Tao was married to the queen. But fate was not so gentle with his stepfather and stepbrother. Since they had been unkind to her beloved, the queen would not permit Yan-Tao to bring them to her palace. They remained in their cave home, where one day, it is said, they were crushed to death in a shower of flying stones.

—The End—