This is a tale from ancient days of a scholar of little means who dared to save a tiny, wounded dog — and in doing so, discovered the true power of goodness.
10 silver coins to save a life
Under the blazing sun, a scholar hurried along a dusty road, a half-worn book box slung over his shoulder. He needed to reach the next town before nightfall, hoping to find shelter before darkness settled in. Suddenly, a series of sharp, desperate barks pierced the still air, followed by a man’s coarse curses. Startled, the scholar quickened his pace and rounded the bend. What he saw made him stop in his tracks. A butcher-like man was forcing a small yellow dog onto a grimy meat table. Beside him lay a knife, its blade catching the sunlight with a cold gleam.
The puppy could not have been more than a few months old. It was painfully thin, trembling uncontrollably, one hind leg clearly injured and hanging uselessly. It struggled weakly, letting out a pitiful whine. Its dull, frightened eyes locked onto the scholar’s, as if silently begging for help.
Growing impatient, the butcher snarled: “What are you barking for? I’ll make it quick.” The scholar felt a sharp pang in his chest. Unable to stand by, he stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Please, good sir, have mercy. Could you sell this little dog to me?” The butcher glanced at the scholar’s shabby clothes and replied sternly: “Sell it to you? Fine. Since you look like a scholar, I’ll give you a discount: 10 silver coins. Not a single coin less.” He said this casually, hoping to scare off the meddlesome scholar.
The scholar was momentarily stunned. Ten silver coins! He instinctively felt in his pocket for the heavy little bundle that contained all of his savings — exactly 10 silver coins. It was everything he had painstakingly saved over two years of early rising and late nights, copying books for others and living frugally. It was all the money he had to pay to take the exam in the provincial capital. Without it, not only would he miss the exam, but he would struggle even to eat and find lodging.
Seeing the scholar standing in a daze, the butcher grew even more impatient. “No money, huh? If you don’t have money, then leave at once. Don’t waste my time.” As he spoke, he raised the knife again. The little dog let out a mournful whimper, its eyes losing all light.
“Wait!” the scholar cried, his voice trembling. He took a deep breath, as though making a momentous decision, and with shaking hands pulled out the small pouch containing the coins and handed it over. “Ten coins it is. I’ll buy it.” The butcher was taken aback. He accepted the pouch in disbelief, weighed it in his hand, then opened it to see what it held. It was indeed real silver. He looked at the scholar as though he were a fool. “You really want to buy it? Just this limping mutt? You must be out of your mind.” The scholar said nothing. He quietly took the frightened, limp little dog and gently cradled it in his arms.
A loyal companion
The little dog seemed to know it had been saved and immediately buried its head in the scholar’s arm, still trembling all over. The scholar looked at the small life in his arms, then thought of his now-empty pouch. A mix of emotions washed over him, yet strangely, he felt no regret. He sighed, gave a brief wave to the butcher, and continued on his way with the little dog.
The scholar’s name was Li Wen. He had planned to use those 10 silver coins to travel frugally to the provincial capital. It was just enough to last until after the examination. Now, it was all gone. He walked to the riverbank with the little dog, carefully cleaned its wounds, and tore strips from his old clothes to bandage the injured leg. The little dog was exceptionally well-behaved, not moving at all, only licking his hand repeatedly as if to thank him. “Little fellow, you’ll follow me from now on,” Li Wen said with a bitter smile, gently patting its head. “My name is Li Wen. I’ll call you Fubao, hoping you can bring us some good fortune.”
Trials on the road
That night, Li Wen faced a dilemma. With no money for an inn, he had no choice but to find a dilapidated temple outside the town and spend the night there with Fubao. In the cold night wind, he held Fubao close for warmth while his own stomach growled with hunger. Fubao seemed to sense this and curled up even tighter, trying to give him more warmth.
The next day, Li Wen continued his journey, constantly thinking of ways to survive. At times, he helped people write letters or copy texts, earning a few copper coins or a bit of food. He often went hungry, yet always shared what little he had with Fubao. Fubao was very understanding and never made a fuss. Whatever Li gave it, it ate, and when it finished, it quietly followed him along the road.
Sometimes, Li Wen could not find work all day and grew dizzy from hunger. Kind-hearted passersby, seeing their plight, would give him a bun or half a bowl of porridge. Li Wen would always feed Fubao first, then eat what remained. Other scholars traveling to the examination, dressed neatly and riding donkeys or sitting in carts, would see Li Wen’s disheveled appearance — especially the limping dog at his side — and secretly laugh. Some would say: “Old brother, why put yourself through this? Is it really worth suffering like this for a dog?” Li Wen only smiled. “Once you see it, you can’t pretend you didn’t. Once you do it, you don’t stop to ask whether it’s worth it.”
Though he was hungry, exhausted, and often ridiculed, watching Fubao grow better day by day — slowly able to put weight on his injured leg, light returning to his eyes — Li Wen felt he had done the right thing. Fubao was especially clever and seemed to understand that Li Wen was his savior. At night, the faithful companion always lay beside him, instantly alert to the slightest sound. When Li Wen wrote, Fubao would quietly rest in the corner of the table or at his feet, keeping watch.
After enduring countless hardships, Li Wen finally dragged his weakened body, accompanied by Fubao, to the provincial capital. On the day of the examination, he entered the hall, his stomach empty, his head spinning. The result was predictable — he failed the exam. When the results were posted, Li Wen scanned the list and saw that his name was missing. It felt as though a heavy stone pressed down on his heart. He sat by the street, holding Fubao, nearly in tears.
“Fubao, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You’ve suffered so much with me, yet I still didn’t pass the exam.” Fubao eagerly licked Li Wen’s hand, nudging his chin with its head and making soft, comforting sounds. With no money even for the journey home, Li Wen had no choice but to remain in the provincial capital, surviving by copying books and writing letters for others. Unable to afford a room, he lived in an abandoned brick kiln on the outskirts of the city. Life grew even harder, yet he never once considered abandoning Fubao. By then, Fubao had become deeply attached to him, and the two relied on each other to survive.
One year later, during a frigid winter, Li Wen caught a cold and fell ill in the brick kiln. He burned with fever and coughed incessantly, too weak to rise. Cold and hungry, his consciousness began to blur, and he felt he might not survive the night. Fubao anxiously circled him, constantly licking his burning forehead and pressing against him to warm him, letting out soft, mournful whimpers.
But Li Wen did not improve. His breathing grew weaker and more labored. Seeing him gasping for air, Fubao suddenly seemed to make a decision. It gently rubbed its head against Li Wen’s, then dashed out into the freezing night. Fubao ran desperately through the dark streets, guided only by memory, until he reached the largest and most renowned clinic in the city — Hui Chun Tang.
To be continued…
Translated by Joseph Wu and edited by Tatiana Denning
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