The time of the story is the Eastern Chin dynasty (317--420), and the place is Chekiang: Shan-po came from Kuaichi (some say Ningpo), and Ying-t'ai from Shangyu.

On the western outskirts of Ningpo is Liang Shan-po Temple, of which a local saying maintains, "If a husband and wife wish to have a long and happy marriage, they should pay a visit to Liang Shan-po Temple." It's said that after he died Liang Shan-po, who was thwarted in his own marriage, became an immortal who watches over lovers in the mortal world and ensures them of marital bliss.

The first record of the story of Liang Shan-po and Chu Ying-t'ai is a sentence that appears in the book Shih-ssu tao ssufan chih, written in 684, during the T'ang dynasty (618--907): "The virtuous woman Chu Ying-t'ai was buried together with Liang Shan-po."

Not until the latter part of the T'ang dynasty did a more detailed elaboration of the story appear, in Chang Tu's Hsuan-chi chih. The gist of the story was as follows: Ying-t'ai, in order to go to school, dressed herself as a boy and traveled away from home. At the school she met Shan-po, and they studied together for several years, their affection for each other growing ever stronger, even though Shan-po failed to realize that Ying-t'ai was a girl. It was not until Shan-po visited the Chu family two years after they had parted that he discovered the real situation. He wanted to marry Ying-t'ai, but she had already been promised to a son in another family. Shan-po fell ill and died. On the day that Ying-t'ai was to be married, she passed by his tomb to mourn for him, when suddenly the tomb split open. Heedless of everything, Ying-t'ai leapt in and was buried with her lover.

A happy ending was added during the Southern Sung dynasty (1127--1279): The two lovers were transformed into a pair of butterflies that fluttered off into the sky.

The film Liang Shan-po and Chu Ying-t'ai is based on the folk legends recorded in ancient works and is pretty much the same. The biggest difference is the scene where Ying-t'ai weeps at the grave.

Probably everyone who has seen the movie has a deep impression of the scene where Ying-t'ai, on her wedding day, learns of Shan-po's death and asks her bridal sedan chair to be carried by his tomb. In the old books, however, Ying-t'ai travels by boat, and instead of leaping into a crevice in the ground, as in the movie, she throws herself into towering waves.

Ying-t'ai's death for love was evaluated in different ways by the old authors. Some praised her as a remarkable woman willing to go her own way, but others condemned her for her actions. Women were severely restricted in their behavior during the Chin dynasty and later. Chang Yung-fa, a history professor at National Taiwan Normal University, has written: "After they were seven years old, girls could no longer sit or eat together with boys, and after the age of ten, they were hidden away deep in the women's quarters and taught needle-work by their mothers. No casual contact was permitted with the boys outside."

Even though the story of Liang Shan-po and Chu Ying-t'ai is recorded in so many ancient works, and nearly every local Chinese opera has a version, Professor Tseng Yung-i of National Taiwan University still doesn't think it's true.

In a book called Speaking of Popular Literature, he avers, "Scholars liked to embroider history with fiction, and the people spun fantasies out of legends."

Did a passionate boy and a beautiful girl who dared to love and hate really meet each other 1,600 years ago and compose together such a lovely romance?

Truth and fiction, fiction and truth. The seeming reality of the legend of Liang Shan-po and Chu Ying-t'ai may best be captured in these lines from Dream of the Red Chamber, which relates another famous love story that will live through the ages:

Truth becomes fiction

when the fiction's true;

Real becomes not-real

where the unreal's real.

[Picture Caption]

Shao-po sings in recitative: "That day on Ch'ient'ang Road when I sent you off home/ under the willow trees you played the go-between./You promised me I could marry your younger sister Miss Nona./Now I've come to your door just for that purpose."

Preparing to recite from the Book of Songs: "Kuan-kuan cry the ospreys/on the islet in the river;/ fresh and lovely is the girl,/a fit match for her lord."

"Not bad!" Shan-po tells Ying-t'ai, "You sew even better than a girl."

Ying-t'ai: "Those two have feelings and emotions, but they're made of clay and wood and can't open their mouths. Come on, let's arrange a wedding for them."

"Brother Liang," Ying-t'ai sings, "You and I are like the Cowherd and the Spinning Girl crossing the Magpie Bridge."

Shan-po: "I never imagined I would come all this way just to trouble you for a cup of wine."

Ying-t'ai: "Before the sedan chair are two lamps hung with crepe/behind it are three thousand paper ingots of silver./First carry my bridal palanquin past South Mountain;/I wish to pour a libation at Tsaochiao to my brother's tomb."

Preparing to recite from the Book of Songs: "Kuan-kuan cry the ospreys／on the islet in the river;／ fresh and lovely is the girl,／a fit match for her lord.".

"Not bad!" Shan-po tells Ying-t'ai, "You sew even better than a girl.".

Ying-t'ai: "Those two have feelings and emotions, but they're made of clay and wood and can't open their mouths. Come on, let's arrange a wedding for them.".

"Brother Liang," Ying-t'ai sings, "You and I are like the Cowherd and the Spinning Girl crossing the Magpie Bridge.".

Shan-po: "I never imagined I would come all this way just to trouble you for a cup of wine.".

Ying-t'ai: "Before the sedan chair are two lamps hung with crepe／behind it are three thousand paper ingots of silver.／First carry my bridal palanquin past South Mountain;／I wish to pour a libation at Tsaochiao to my brother's tomb.".