This story takes place in the sixth century during the T'ang Dynasty. Li Yi of Huaiyin, having lost his father at an early age, was most loving and obedient toward his mother, rivalling the Twenty-Four Paragons of Filial Piety in his virtue. Later, when his mother also died, Li Yi wept and wailed, nearly dying of grief himself, before he buried her.

After the funeral, Li Yi despondently returned home, only to find the mother he had just buried sitting right there in the house. When she saw her son had returned, she quickly stood up, clasped his hand, and cried, "My son, after you buried me I managed to run away and come back to keep you company for a few more years!" Surprised and delighted, Li Yi took care of his mother just as he had before. She enjoined of him just one thing: "It wasn't easy for me to come back from the dead. Now that I'm among the living, you must on no account visit my grave--otherwise, I'll die once more." Li Yi naturally obeyed.

In this way two years went by, until one night Li Yi dreamed he saw his mother standing in the front door, weeping and saying, "I'm your mother, who worked so hard bring you up, remaining a widow to raise you. And now that I'm dead, you never visit my grave, and have even set a black dog in the doorway to keep me away. Where is your conscience? If you don't visit my grave, Heaven will surely punish you." Crying and weeping, she left.

Shocked, Li Yi tried to pursue her, but she was already gone.

At daybreak Li Yi awoke, full of doubts, yet grieved to think of the distress of his mother in the dream. Seeing his sorrow, the mother he was taking care of asked, "Son, why do you look so unhappy today? Is it because I've lived too long and given you too much trouble caring for me?"

In tears, Li Yi replied, "Mother, please don't be concerned. Actually, I'm upset because I had a nightmare last night that I don't think I should tell you about. Please don't take offense." But Li Yi remained heavyhearted and anxious for several days thereafter, not knowing what he should do.

Soon, Li Yi dreamed of his mother once again. This time she was weeping and wailing in the doorway, beating her breast, and crying, "Li Yi, are you human? How can you be so unfilial? Since you buried me, you've not only forgotten all about me, you've been raising a dog in my place instead. I only want to see how Heaven will punish your ingratitude!" With an angry sweep of her sleeves, she was gone. Li Yi again could not catch up to her.

The next morning Li Yi could bear it no longer. He stealthily ran off to his mother's grave. "How could I forget Mother's love and care?" he cried out. "When you were alive, I spared no efforts to serve you. And when you passed away, I nearly died with grief. But then you returned home alive, and forbade me from visiting your grave. Since then I've done my best to care for you. So why have I dreamed of you crying and scolding me? If I believe the mother in my dreams, I'm afraid I'll harm the mother at home. If I obey the mother at home, I worry that what the mother in my dreams said may be true. Oh Lord Who looks on all, what am I to do?" Having wept a good spell, he prayed earnestly at the grave and returned home.

As soon as he went inside, Li Yi saw that his mother was distressed and indignant. "I'm your mother," she said. "Because of your love for me I had hoped to live with you for a few more years. How could I expect you'd be so foolish as to run off and worship at an empty grave!" Her words still unfinished, she fell to the floor and expired.

Thoroughly stupefied, Li Yi brought in a doctor, whose efforts were of no avail. Just as the time before, Li Yi wept bitterly for many days before thinking about burying his mother again.

Returning to the gravesite, he exhumed the original coffin, only to find his mother's corpse lying in perfect condition inside. In a fright, Li Yi ran straight back home, where his lately expired mother turned into an old black dog, ran out the door, and disappeared.

Filial piety has been a virtue highly prized by the Chinese people for thousands of years. Seeing the blessings man enjoys from it, the old black dog could hardly refrain from transforming itself into a human to savor some of the joys of a well-cared-for old age.

This story is a ch'uan ch'i, or "strange tales," of the T'ang Dynasty. And the filial piety it describes, constant alike in life and in death, seems, to today's eyes, scarcely less fabulous than the story it relate.