Inspired by The Southern Wutong Spirit by Pu Song-Ling

Yan was beginning to think her guest would not show up, when the Wutong Spirit appeared in a blaze of light.

“I come seeking the promise of our marriage bed, wife!” the spirit roared. “Give me what is mine by right!”

Yan did not move. She kept her eyes downcast as Wutong crossed the room to where she sat on the bed. He had taken the form of a richly dressed man, not unhandsome, except for the pair of stubby horns protruding from his forehead. The spirit sat down at the table which Yan had prepared, and commenced snacking on sweetmeats and mulled wine.

Halfway through the meal, he stopped. “I feel odd…” Wutong said, his hands unable to unclench the wine cup. “What did you do to me, wife?”

Yan rose silently and crossed the room to the changing screen. She pulled it back to reveal her friend Wong perched atop a stool, a freshly whetted knife bobbing up and down upon his leg. He handed her the knife.

Yan approached the Wutong Spirit, who fell backward, unable to move. “I hope you enjoyed your meal, husband,” she said, then thrust the knife into his bowels.