When living in this world, a single kind thought can bring unexpected blessings, but one wrong thought can lead to grave mistakes — and what kind of retribution might follow?
During the Xianfeng era of the Qing dynasty, in the bustling prefecture of Huzhou within Zhejiang Province, there lived an elderly couple in their fifties. To their neighbors and the townspeople, they were the very picture of righteousness and devotion. They maintained a strict vegetarian diet, spent their evenings chanting Buddhist scriptures, and frequently contributed small sums to local charities. By all accounts, they had earned a good reputation.
Lightning kills an old couple in their home
Yet, during a suffocatingly hot June, a sudden and terrifying thunderstorm rolled over the city. A jagged bolt of lightning pierced the sky, striking the couple’s home and instantly killing them both. The tragedy left everyone in the community deeply puzzled and shaken. How could a couple so seemingly pious meet such a violent, unholy end?
At the Right Literature Hall of the imperial examination venue, the air was thick with the murmurs of scholars and citizens alike. Among them was a 70-year-old man, a retired clerk known for his sharp mind and long memory. One afternoon, while cooling himself under the shade of an awning on the street, he overheard a group of young, cynical scholars discussing the lightning strike.
“Look at this couple,” one young man scoffed, shaking his head. “They spent half their lives praying and doing good deeds, only to be struck down like criminals. This proves that Heaven’s Way does not exist, and the gods are blind to the actions of men.”
The old man sighed, leaned upon his staff, and stepped forward to address them. “Young men,” he said softly but firmly, “you should not doubt Heaven’s Way because of this matter. The ledger of the cosmos is long, and its ink is never wasted. I know the truth of this couple’s past.”
The youth turned to him, curious. The old man settled into a chair and began his tale. “When this man and his wife were young, they were not the prosperous, pious citizens you knew. They were desperately poor. Decades ago, the husband opened a small, struggling pastry shop right here in this district, and he was my immediate neighbor. Our walls were thin, and I could hear much of what transpired next door.
The old couple stole 50 silver coins
“One morning, before the sun had even risen and before I had gotten out of bed, I heard the shopkeeper setting out his morning trays. Suddenly, he called out to his wife: ‘How careless! A customer left something behind in the shop without realizing it. Let’s wait until the person returns and give it back to him.’ “I then heard his wife’s hurried footsteps as she asked: ‘What was left behind?’
“There was a pause, followed by the clinking of heavy metal. The husband replied that it was a thick cloth pouch. Upon hearing this, the wife’s tone shifted from curiosity to sharp greed. She cursed her husband harshly, saying: ‘You fool! This is wealth bestowed upon us by Heaven to pull us out of poverty! Why on earth would you return it?’ I then heard her snatch the pouch and walk swiftly upstairs to hide it.”
The old man took a deep breath, the memory vivid in his mind, and continued. “By midday, the heat was sweltering, and a young merchant rushed into the pastry shop, his face pale and drenched in sweat. He wept as he explained that he had left his pouch on the counter that very morning. Inside were 50 silver coins — money he had borrowed at a high interest rate to save his failing business and feed his aging parents. He begged the shopkeeper, asking if he had seen it.
The shopkeeper, whose heart had already been swayed and corrupted by his wife’s words, looked the man in the eye and denied it. The merchant fell to his knees. He pleaded: It was incredibly hard for me to gather this money, and I urgently need it today. There was no one else in the shop when I bought my breakfast. If you found it, please return it. This would be a great act of virtue, and I will surely find a way to repay your kindness. He begged repeatedly, knocking his forehead against the floor.
“The shopkeeper hesitated, his conscience pricked by the man’s desperation. But before he could speak, his wife shouted harshly from the top of the stairs: ‘You left after eating your fill! Even if you forgot something, many people come and go in our shop throughout the morning. How do we know someone else didn’t take it? You have no proof, and now you falsely accuse honest business folk!’ “Seeing that his tears and pleas were entirely useless against their cold facade, the young merchant fell into complete despair. He picked himself up, stumbled out of the shop like a ghost, and disappeared into the crowd.”
The old man looked at the quiet crowd of young scholars. “After this incident, the couple abruptly closed their shop, moved to another part of Huzhou, and invested the stolen silver. Their lives gradually prospered, and they eventually became wealthy. But who can say their wealth was not built upon the blood and tears of those fifty silver coins? And who among us knows whether the poor man who lost the money did not fall into absolute ruin, or even take his own life in his despair?
“Later in life, perhaps plagued by a guilty conscience or fear of the afterlife, the shopkeeper and his wife turned wholeheartedly toward goodness. They ate simple vegetables, chanted the sutras, and sought to buy peace of mind. But one wrong thought had already created a great, irreversible evil. The tragic fate of the young merchant had already been sealed. Many small, superficial good deeds performed in comfort afterward could not make up for the devastating crime of their youth.”
The scholars remained silent, the gravity of the story weighing heavily upon them. The old man turned and walked away, leaving them to contemplate the invisible scales of justice. This profound incident, serving as a timeless warning that divine retribution may be delayed, but is never avoided, is recorded for posterity in the Qing Dynasty’s Record of Exhortations and Admonitions.
Translated by Cecilia and edited by Amanda
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