There’s an old saying in Chinese culture: Better to believe than to risk disbelief. In many traditions around the world, certain taboos are not to be taken lightly. Yet some people still insist on tempting fate — leaving behind chilling stories that serve as warnings to others.
During the late Tang to Five Dynasties period, just south of Luoyang, a temple known as the Dragon King Temple stood beside a serene pond near Yuquan Monastery. This temple was widely regarded as a sacred place for prayers for rain, especially during droughts. Locals believed it was especially effective — many reported that rain would fall soon after sincere offerings were made.
Mockery and a monk’s warning
One summer, amid a severe drought, a county official named Shen Wenwei traveled to Yuquan Monastery. Curious about the temple’s reputation, he walked to the edge of the pond and bent down to examine something floating in the water. It looked like a broken flower with large leaf-like structures the size of an umbrella.
Instead of treating the scene with reverence, Shen picked up a piece of tile from the ground and flung it at the strange object. A nearby monk, alarmed by the act, quickly intervened: “Please stop! That’s forbidden. Such behavior can provoke wind and thunder!”
But Shen laughed off the monk’s warning, unaware of the seriousness of what he had just done.
A sudden storm and supernatural wrath
The mist spread rapidly, blanketing the mountainside in a matter of moments and drastically reducing visibility. Almost instantly, a thick white fog rose from the surface of the pond. The mist spread rapidly, blanketing the mountainside in a matter of moments and drastically reducing visibility. Yuquan Monastery was located on the mountain itself, and the only path down involved walking seven winding stone loops.

As Shen began his descent, the weather turned violent. Thunder boomed overhead, lightning slashed across the sky, and torrential rain came down in sheets. The slippery path made each step treacherous.
By the time he finally made it to the foot of the mountain, Shen discovered that the flatlands had become a flooded wasteland. Rivers and creeks had all overflowed. Water surged through the valleys, sweeping everything in its path.
Donkeys pulling carts were stranded in the rising water, and even the drivers could do little but cling helplessly to whatever they could. The flooding was so intense that it was difficult for Shen to even remain standing.
Though it should have been broad daylight, the sky had grown dim, as if dusk had fallen. Thunder rumbled endlessly, each clap louder than the last. For the first time, Shen’s courage failed him. Overcome with fear, his lips turned black from the cold and fright.
A humbling retreat and a lesson learned
Shen finally managed to take refuge in a nearby village. After a while, the skies cleared. The downpour and chaos vanished as suddenly as they had arrived. He rested through the night and, by the next morning, his health had returned.
The experience left a deep impression on him. He couldn’t shake the thought that his reckless behavior — mocking the sacred temple and ignoring the warning — had stirred the wrath of the dragon spirit believed to dwell there. Had the storm been a punishment for his disrespect?

Respecting the unseen
Reflecting on how narrowly he escaped with his life, Shen began to tell his story as a cautionary tale to others. In the traditions of ancient China, places like the Dragon King Temple were not only sites of worship — they were thresholds between the human world and the divine. To violate their rules was to court disaster.
Even today, stories like Shen’s endure. Whether taken as folklore or moral parable, they carry the same message: humility matters, especially in the face of what we do not fully understand.
Translated by Joseph Wu
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