The old Chinese folk tale of the lovers Zhu Yingtai and Liang Shanbo who couldn't be separated by a bad marriage—or death.
Come here, my little butterflies. One on each side, please. And no kicking your brother under the blanket. I can see those toes moving!
Tonight, I'm going to tell you a story from long, long ago, when China was a land of magnificent palaces, little villages tucked among green mountains, and scholars who spent so much time studying that they sometimes forgot to eat their supper. Imagine that!
Our story is about a clever young woman named Zhu Yingtai and a kind young man named Liang Shanbo. It's a story about friendship, love, and two very special butterflies. And it begins with a girl who wanted to go to school.
A Girl with a Very Clever Plan
Long ago, in a beautiful village surrounded by rice fields and willow trees, there lived a girl named Zhu Yingtai. Yingtai was curious about absolutely everything. She wanted to know why the moon changed shape, where the swallows went in winter, and how the stars managed to stay in the sky without falling on people's heads.
She loved books, poetry and learning. There was just one problem. In those days, girls from families like hers were expected to stay at home and learn how to become proper young ladies. But Yingtai wanted to study at a famous school far away.
"Oh, Father," she pleaded, "please let me go! I promise I'll study very hard."
Her father shook his head. "Impossible! You're a girl!"
Now, Yingtai was not the sort of girl who gave up just because someone said impossible. She thought and thought until she came up with a rather mischievous idea. She would dress as a boy!
She put on a scholar's robe, tucked her hair beneath a cap, and practiced walking and speaking like a young gentleman. She even practiced a deep voice.
"Good morning, honorable teacher!"
Oh dear. She sounded rather like a frog with a sore throat. But after a little more practice, she was ready. At last, her father agreed to let her go, provided she was careful.
And so, dressed as a young scholar, Yingtai set off on the greatest adventure of her life.
On her journey to school, Yingtai met a young man named Liang Shanbo. Shanbo was a gentle, thoughtful fellow who was also traveling to study. He carried a bundle of books, a little food, and an umbrella.
A very sensible young man, wouldn't you say? Especially the umbrella. You never know when the clouds might decide to empty their pockets.
The two travelers began talking and discovered that they loved the same poems, admired the same scholars, and enjoyed asking the same sorts of questions. Before long, they were laughing like old friends.
"Since we're going to the same school," said Shanbo, "why don't we travel together?"
Yingtai smiled. "I'd like that very much."
And so they continued their journey side by side. At school, they studied together, ate together, and spent their free time wandering through the gardens.
When Shanbo struggled with a difficult passage, Yingtai helped him understand it. When Yingtai couldn't remember a poem, Shanbo helped her practice. And when one of them fell asleep over a book, the other would give a little cough.
Which is much kinder than pouring cold water over someone's head. Although I imagine Yingtai considered that once or twice.
Three wonderful years passed, and during those years, Yingtai discovered something rather unexpected. She had fallen in love with Shanbo.
Oh, she liked him very much indeed. She loved his kindness, his gentle smile, and the way he always listened when she spoke. But there was one little difficulty.
Shanbo still thought she was a boy! And Yingtai wasn't quite sure how to tell him otherwise.
Eighteen Hints and One Very Confused Scholar
At last, the day came when Yingtai had to return home. Shanbo was terribly sad to see his best friend leave.
"I'll walk with you part of the way," he said.
And so the two friends set off together. Yingtai decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to help Shanbo discover her secret.
As they passed a pond, they saw two ducks swimming together.
"Look!" said Yingtai. "A lovely pair! Just like a husband and wife."
Shanbo nodded. "Yes, very nice ducks."
Yingtai sighed. A little farther along, they saw two butterflies dancing above the flowers.
"Look, Shanbo! Those butterflies make such a lovely couple."
"Indeed," he replied. "And what beautiful wings!"
Oh, that boy! He could understand the most difficult books in the school, but he couldn't understand a hint if it landed on his nose and did a little dance.
Yingtai tried again and again. In the old story, she gave him eighteen hints during their journey. Eighteen!
My goodness, children, even your father usually understands what I mean by the third hint. Well... the fourth, perhaps.
At last, Yingtai had another idea.
"Shanbo," she said, "I have a younger sister at home. She's very much like me. Would you consider marrying her?"
Shanbo smiled. "If she's as kind and clever as you, I'd be delighted!"
Yingtai's heart leaped. "Then come visit my family soon!"
"I promise," said Shanbo.
And with that, the two friends said goodbye.
Some time later, Shanbo traveled to Yingtai's home. He was eager to meet his friend's family and, of course, the mysterious younger sister.
But when he arrived, something astonishing happened. A beautiful young woman came out to greet him.
She smiled. "Welcome, Shanbo."
He stared. There was something very familiar about her voice, her eyes, and that mischievous little smile.
She laughed. "Yes, Shanbo. It's me!"
He blinked. Then he blinked again.
Oh dear. For once, the clever scholar couldn't find a single word.
Yingtai explained everything. She had dressed as a boy so she could attend school. She had been his friend all those years, and she had hoped he would discover her secret on their journey home.
Suddenly Shanbo remembered the ducks, the butterflies, and all those hints.
"Eighteen!" he exclaimed.
Yingtai laughed. "Yes, eighteen!"
And at last, Shanbo understood something else. The person he loved most in the world was standing right in front of him.
He loved Yingtai, and Yingtai loved him. For one wonderful moment, everything seemed perfect.
But sometimes, my little ones, even the loveliest stories must pass through a little sadness before they reach their ending.
A Promise That Couldn't Be Broken
You see, while Yingtai had been away at school, her parents had promised that she would marry a young man from another family.
In those days, parents often arranged marriages for their children. And once such a promise had been made, it was very difficult to change.
Yingtai begged her parents to let her marry Shanbo instead, and Shanbo pleaded too. Still, the answer was no.
The two young people were heartbroken. They had spent three happy years together, and now, just when they had discovered their love, they were being told they must say goodbye.
Shanbo returned home. He tried to continue his studies and his work, but he missed Yingtai terribly. He grew ill, and though the doctors did everything they could, he never recovered.
One quiet day, Shanbo died.
Now, my darlings, I know that's sad. Sometimes old stories contain sorrow because the people who first told them knew that life wasn't always fair.
But this story isn't finished. Not even close. For something extraordinary was about to happen.
When Yingtai learned that Shanbo had died, she wept. She remembered their long walks, their happy school days, and the eighteen hints that her dear, absent-minded friend had completely misunderstood.
Then the day arrived when she was to marry the man her parents had chosen. Yingtai dressed in a beautiful red wedding gown, and her hair was decorated with flowers and golden ornaments.
Outside, the wedding procession waited with musicians, lanterns, and a magnificent bridal carriage. But Yingtai made one request.
"On the way to my wedding, I wish to visit Shanbo's grave."
Her family agreed, and so the procession set off. The sun shone brightly and the birds sang, but as they approached the place where Shanbo was buried, the sky began to darken.
The wind stirred the trees, and the musicians stopped playing. Yingtai stepped down from her carriage and walked slowly toward the grave.
"Oh, Shanbo," she whispered, "if only we could be together."
She knelt beside the grave and wept. And then something remarkable happened.
The earth began to tremble. A gentle rumbling rose from beneath the ground, and the grave opened. From within came a beautiful golden light.
Yingtai looked up in wonder. She wasn't frightened. She knew, somehow, that Shanbo was waiting for her.
So she stepped into the light, and the earth closed gently behind her.
For a moment, everything was still. Then, from the place where the grave had opened, two butterflies appeared.
One had wings of shimmering gold. The other had wings of soft blue and white. They fluttered into the sunshine and circled each other, once, then twice, before rising together into the warm spring air.
And everyone watching understood.
Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai had become butterflies.
Two Butterflies in the Spring
Oh, what a wonderful thing it must have been to see! The butterflies danced above the flowers, drifted over the willow trees, and flew across the little streams and meadows where the two friends had once walked together.
No one could tell them where to go, whom to love, or when they must say goodbye. Together they flew into the blue sky, their wings shining in the sunlight.
Some say they traveled all the way back to the school where they first became friends. Others say they returned to the little pond where Yingtai had pointed out the two ducks.
And perhaps, just perhaps, Shanbo finally understood what she'd been trying to tell him. Although knowing that young man, he might have needed one more hint.
Now, my little butterflies, people in China have told this story for hundreds of years. They've sung it in operas, written it in books, and played it on beautiful musical instruments.
And whenever two butterflies flutter together above a garden, someone might smile and say, "Look! There go Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai."
Perhaps they're visiting old friends, exploring a new meadow, or simply enjoying the sunshine, happy to be together.
And now, my two little loves, it's time for you to close your eyes. Imagine a beautiful garden filled with peach blossoms, a warm breeze carrying the scent of flowers, and two butterflies dancing together in the golden evening light.
One flutters this way. The other flutters that way. Then they find each other again.
Because that's what love does, my darlings. It brings us together. And the loveliest thing about love is that the more we give, the more there is to share.
Now, no more wriggling, no more whispering, and absolutely no turning into butterflies and flying out the window tonight. At least not until morning.
Good night, my little loves.
