The Wang Sibung giu gi (The story of a fortuitous encounter of Wang Sibung 王十朋奇遇記) is a tale written in Classical Chinese and included in the seventeenth century collection Sindokjae sutaekbon jeongijip (Collection of jeon­gi tales selected by Gim Jip 愼獨齋手澤本傳奇集) [1574–1656]. The collection was introduced to modern scholarship in 1955 by Jeong Byeonguk. The tale follows the marriage, separation, and reunion of a Northern Song (960–1127) couple, Wang Sibung, a talented man from a poor family, and Jeon Ongnang (Ongnyeon), a devoted woman from a rich family. Ongnang chooses Wang as her husband despite the poverty evident in his only betrothal gift, a thorn hairpin, which stands in contrast to a golden hairpin sent by Son Yeogwon, the scion of a rich family. (A thorn hairpin traditionally symbolizes the faithfulness of a couple amid poverty.) Son’s determination to marry Ongnang at any cost causes Ongnang’s initial separation from Wang, while later misunderstandings in communication drive them to believe each other dead. Nonetheless, their untainted faithfulness to each other, evidenced by their respective refusals to remarry, leads to their reunion, in which the thorn hairpin plays a pivotal role. The tale not only praises the unswerving love of the couple but also promotes an ethic that prioritizes virtue over mundane well-being, and the husband-wife relationship over relationships imposed by powerful others. The tale carries a strong moral lesson as the couple is repeatedly tested. Such themes and lessons would have appealed strongly to Korean readers while Ongnang’s chaste image would resonate with that of Chunhyang in the Chunhyang jeon (The Tale of Chunhyang 春香傳).

The story itself is a Korean adaptation of the anonymously written Jingchai ji (The Tale of The Thorn Hairpin 荊釵記), a Chinese southern drama (nanxi 南戲) text, also known as an early chuanqi (romance 傳奇) play. Though written in the same format, Wang Sibung giu gi offers a very different read from the original Jingchai ji. Despite having the same main plot and character names, it presents the tale as a typical chuanqi tale, familiar to Korean readers at the time. For instance, it drops many elements seen in the original, including dialogues, direction, musical tones, song-poems, vernacular lexicons, etc. It also simplifies the arrangement of plots and characters, even omitting certain supporting characters and scenes. The removal of these Chinese dramatic elements would have helped Koreans in understanding the text by removing the barrier of cultural and linguistic differences. Korea did not have the same history and traditions for dramatic performance which, in China, had risen to high popularity during the thirteenth century and onward. Koreans’ appropriation of Chinese dramatic tales must therefore have necessitated the rewriting of the tales to suit the literary tastes of a Korean readership. The original author of this Korean adaptation must have been among the few who were versed in both chuanqi  literature and Chinese dramatic texts. In the hands of this anonymous expert, Wang Sibung giu gi was crafted into a well-rounded tale for Koreans, which most would not have noticed was a Korean adaptation of the Jingchai ji without prior knowledge.

Apart from the dominant theme of the love and virtue of husband and wife triumphing over socioeconomic differences, physical distance, and the ill will of others, the tale poses questions essential to our understanding not only of the story but of its readership. The tale unquestionably embodies a uniquely Korean way of appropriating a Chinese dramatic tale which provides a clue to understanding the expanding reading and writing practices of late Joseon Koreans and the development of Korean fiction. I hope this translation will help readers to explore the treasured sea of Korean classical literature, in which subtle currents of culture and creativity meet, intertwine, and create new versions that appeal to different readers.

<Wang Sibung giu gi - The Story of a Fortuitous Encounter of Wang Sibung>

Wang Sibung1 came from the Taewon2 area during the Song dynasty.3 He was a noble man with a scholarly disposition. His father had passed away when Sibung was still young. After that, he lived alone with his widowed mother. Although he was poor, he was always high-spirited. His talent exceeded all others.

A neighbor named Jeon Gongwon had a daughter whose childhood name was Ongnyeon. When she turned three years old, her mother died, leaving her in the care of a paternal uncle’s family. Her father was remarried to a woman whose surname was Choe, and lived with her.

From early childhood Ongnang4 received a good education at home. She was very skilled at embroidery and learned both poetry and calligraphy.5 Her talent and beauty were extraordinary. She possessed a flowerlike face and her composure resembled the moon’s. She truly was one of the rarest beauties of the country.

One day, Gongwon said to his wife, Lady Choe, “Although he is poor now, I believe Wang Sibung will become a great man someday. I want to have him as my son-in-law.”

Lady Choe said, “Husband and wife is one of the cardinal relationships in human life. Yet you only see what you can see now: his talents. You have not thought carefully about the problems that will fall upon your daughter’s life with him in the distant future.”

Gongwon replied, “My only wish is to find a good son-in-law and I believe I know how to select one. Whether he is rich or poor doesn’t matter.” Having failed to dissuade Gongwon, Lady Choe and Ongnang’s foster mother began preparing for the proposal, sending a matchmaker to Wang Sibung’s house to discuss the marriage.

Delighted, Wang Sibung promised to send them a formal marriage request by the chosen day.6 When the day came, however, his poverty left him unable to perform the proper formalities. He sent only a marriage letter and a thorn hairpin to fix the wedding date.

In the same neighborhood, there lived a man named Son Yeogwon, who had considerable wealth. Having noticed Ongnang’s talent and beauty, he too sent a marriage proposal to Lady Choe.

Lady Choe spoke to her husband, “Whereas the Wang family lives in extreme poverty, the Son family is very rich. Why did you pick a poor man to marry your only daughter, knowing that the rest of her life could be burdened?” Unwilling to give in, she persuaded the Son family to send a golden hairpin and, showing it, again tried to persuade her husband. Her husband decided that he would present the thorn hairpin and the golden one in a cup together and ask his daughter to choose her future husband by picking one.

Ongnang said, “Although Wang’s household is poor and the thorn hairpin is a lowly object, it arrived at our house first, so I regard it as something sent by my future husband. Son’s household is certainly prosperous and the golden hairpin is a valuable item, but it arrived later. Having already received a gift from the Wang family, accepting another from the Son family would be equivalent to serving two husbands. Our family would be disgraced beyond repair and draw sneers from our neighbors.”

Unable to change her mind, her parents were very upset and sent their daughter on horseback to the Wang family well before the wedding day. From the day she arrived at Wang’s house, Ongnang worked diligently to fulfill her wifely duties and served her mother-in-law very well.

Before too long, Wang Sibung set out for the capital city to take the civil examination. Son Yeogwon, although incompetent to take the exam, deliberately took the opportunity to travel with him. They stayed together in the same town before reporting to the examination place. Son did not pass, but Wang won first place. After three days of celebration and marching in the streets, Wang was appointed judge of Joyang and soon his fame spread far and near.

Nearby, there was a minister who recognized Wang’s talents and wanted him as his son-in-law. The minister said, “I would like my only daughter to serve you as a wife. What do you think?”

Wang rose from his seat to reply, “With the little knowledge I had, I was so fortunate as to pass the civil service examination. My first wife was always by my side during difficult times.7 I am not so heartless as to abandon her just to become a son-in-law to an illustrious family like yours.” Embarrassed, the minister did not speak of it again.

When Wang was about to leave for Joyang, Son Yeogwon sent a messenger to him, requesting an audience. [When he met Wang,] Son said deceptively, “I am going to return home tomorrow. Would you like to send a letter home?”

Delighted at the offer, Wang wrote a letter to his mother, which read: “[My Dear Mother] Your son was placed first in the civil examination and appointed judge of Joyang. My assignment begins on a certain day. I will dispatch some people and horses to help you and my wife move here. I will devote myself to governing my people and becoming a filial son. Your dutiful son, Wang Sibung.” Wang sealed the letter and handed it to Son.

Son, after taking charge of the letter, forged a similar missive saying: “[My Dear Mother] Fortunately, your son passed the civil examination and was appointed judge of Joyang. I also became the son-in-law of a minister. Soon I will head to Joyang with my new bride. I will dispatch some people and horses to help you move here. Please come alone. Send my wife back home to her family. I do not wish to see her ever again . . .” Son enclosed the forgery in the original envelope and sent it on.

Wang’s mother was both happy and sad to read the letter. Ongnang asked her mother-in-law what was troubling her. She replied, “As a mother, I am so thrilled to hear that my son became judge of Joyang after passing the examination. However, I am also saddened to learn that he has married another woman, taking her with him, and wants me to send you back to your family.”

Ongnang said, “Ever since I joined this family, I have devoted myself to the household and to you. I diligently fetched water and ground grain in the mortar with my own hands. With a faithful heart, I kept you warm during the winter and cool during the summer while treating you to delicious food.8 My husband and I promised that we would grow old together and swore an oath that we would be buried in the same grave.9
After all that, how could he just leave me, breaking off our relationship?” Her mother-in-law could not find it in her heart to leave Ongnang behind to join her son.

Ongnang’s parents soon heard the news. They condemned their son-in-law’s words, exclaiming angrily, “Although he was knowledgeable and well versed in writing, our poor son-in-law would not have been able to afford to take the civil examination if our household had not paid for his lodging in the capital city and all the extra expenses of travel. Indeed, it is our support that allowed him to pass the civil examination. Nonetheless, his haughtiness has led him to become the son-in-law of a minister. His cruelty is indescribable!”

And they took a coach to bring Ongnang back to their house. They admonished Ongnang, saying, “Your husband married another woman from an influential family and broke off his marriage with you. How could he leave you so harshly?”

Ongnang said, “Although my husband is without achievements or good deeds, I don’t believe he is capable of breaking my heart so harshly. No, this could not possibly have been his own idea. I suspect that some deceiver has come between us and is scheming to tear us apart.”

Her parents spoke, “Mr. Son also returned from the capital city. Surely, he knows the truth,” and they went to inquire. Son’s information was, of course, consistent with the content of the letter. Her parents soon returned and said to Ongnang, “Son’s words were in agreement. The letter speaks none other than the truth.”

Son was a sly and manipulative man. He next gave Lady Choe a large bribe to take his part. She told her husband, “Wang is already remarried to another woman and he clearly indicated in the letter that he did not wish to see Ongnang ever again. Perhaps, we should ask Son to become our son-in-law. That way, we can make Wang feel ashamed, and Ongnang will have someone to depend on. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Ongnang’s father listened attentively. Soon after, while gently consoling her, he suggested to Ongnang that she marry Son.

Ongnang responded, “According to Wang Chok,10 a loyal subject does not serve two kings, and a chaste wife does not marry a second husband. That is how I should live. I cannot decide to remarry solely on the grounds of a letter that is so hard to believe. Besides, I never saw the letter and cannot be certain it was truly sent by my husband.”

But her parents were determined to have Son as a son-in-law. Unable to resist their will, Ongnang eventually lied, pretending to agree, “How can I defy my parents’ wish?” Her father trusted her words and picked a day for the wedding.

On the wedding night, Ongnang took a bath, changed her clothes, and sat elegantly upright in the bridal room, careful to draw no suspicion. [At the first opportunity, however,] she snuck out of the room and disappeared. Her family and their servants anxiously searched the nearby mountains and waters. On the second day, they found Ongnang’s shoes abandoned on a riverbank lush with red smartweed. They concluded that Ongnang must have jumped into the river to her death but, search as they might, they couldn’t locate her body. The whole household lamented.

On the same day when Ongnang was believed to have leaped into the river, a man named Jeon Jaha was appointed as prefect of Bokju.11 That evening, traveling with his family, he anchored his ship to the riverbank. As he dozed on the bow, he had a short dream. In his dream, a figure descended from heaven and spoke to him, “Tonight, a woman will come here to jump into the river. In your former life, she was your daughter. You must save her and look after her.” Before Jeon Jaha could ask a single question, the figure vanished.

Yawning and stretching, Jeon Jaha woke from his dream. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone splashing into the river. He quickly cried out to the skipper to pull the person out of the water. It was none other than Ongnang [chilled and unconscious]. They called for her to be quickly stripped off her wet garments and dressed in new dry clothes. A brazier was brought in to warm her and warm wine soup was gently poured into her mouth to improve her blood circulation. After a while, Ongnang regained consciousness.

Jeon Jaha asked his wife to inquire about her name, place of residence, and reasons for jumping into the river. Ongnang replied, “I am the daughter of Jeon Gongwon, who lives in Taewon, and the wife of Wang Sibung. Last month, my husband was appointed to be judge of Joyang and prepared to move from the capital city to his new post. A vicious man in our neighborhood seized the opportunity and tried to force me to be his wife. I could not become a mate to an animal [a dog or a pig] so, deciding that I would rather be eaten by fish, I leaped into the river.”

Her words broke Jeon Jaha’s heart. He sent one of his underlings to Joyang to investigate. Arriving at the outskirts of Joyang, the man saw a funeral procession with a red banner resting by a riverbank. The banner read, “The Coffin of Judge Wang of Joyang.” He accosted a servant walking with the procession and inquired. The servant told him that the judge had been struck with illness and died shortly after arriving at his new post. Without looking into the matter further, Jeon’s underling assumed that Wang Sibung had died and hastily returned to report his discovery.

Ongnang accepted the grievous news without a moment’s doubt and sank into despair. She became pale and her heart was crushed. Overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, she began to fade into death. Jeon Jaha brought her bowls of rice porridge and encouraged her to eat so that she could regain strength. He took her with him to Bokgeon,12 where he continued to look after her and soon became very fond of her.

One day, Ongnang asked Jeon Jaha, “A long time has passed since my husband’s death, but I have yet to offer a memorial service or a cup of wine before his spirit. I would like to perform a ritual for the dead to ease his passage to eternity.” Jeon Jaha secretly thought the ritual was a foolish practice from a heterodox religion but chose to allow it because he did not want to break her heart. 

Ongnang took incense and went to the Temple of Gilsang to prepare for the ritual. While she was there, a governor of Bokju was also at the temple, holding a ritual for his deceased wife. Ongnang glimpsed him through the curtains and thought he resembled her husband Wang Sibung. After performing the ritual, she returned home and talked quietly with her maid, “The official performing the ritual at the temple today very much resembled my husband.” Jeon Jaha happened to hear their conversation on his way to the outhouse. Later, he summoned Ongnang and asked about what she said.

Ongnang replied, “When I was at the temple, I happened to see an official who looked something like my deceased husband. I only brought it up casually. I did not mean it any other way.”

Struck by her unusual encounter, Jeon Jaha dispatched a subordinate to Bokju to find out the name of its governor. The man returned and reported, “Wang Sibung currently serves as governor of Bokju.” Jeon Jaha soon brought together all the governors and magistrates of nearby towns. As wine was served the gathered guests talked pleasantly with one another. However Wang Sibung, with a broken heart and a sad countenance, did not mingle with the crowd. Jeon Jaha asked Wang Sibung, “What was your post prior to coming to Bokju?”

Wang replied, “I was fortunate enough to pass the civil examination and was posted in Joyang to serve as a judge. Shortly after, I was reassigned and Wang Jagong came to replace me. Sadly, Wang Jagong was struck with illness and passed away within a month after his appointment, while I came here to serve as the prefect of Bokju.”

Jeon Jaha then asked, “Regarding your wife, of what illness and where did she die?” Wang Sibung explained, “I am originally from Taewon. I married the daughter of Jeon Gongwon, who lived in the same village. Last year, I went to the capital city to take the civil examination and passed. I was immediately appointed as judge of Joyang. Later, when I was assigned to Bokju, I brought my mother there so that she could stay with me. My wife however, stayed behind at her family’s house. Under mysterious circumstances, she threw herself into a river and died. I sent people to search along the river for her remains. However, to this day, they have not been found.”

Jeon Jaha went on, “What betrothal gifts did you send to the bride’s house with your marriage proposal?” Wang Sibung replied, “I was too poor to meet the formalities. I sent only the thorn hairpin that belonged to my mother.”

Jeon Jaha said, “Your wife is long gone and not coming back alive. I have an adopted daughter. Why don’t you marry her? She can attend to your needs and help to manage your household.”

Wang Sibung said, “With the seas and mountains as a witness, my wife with the thorn hairpin and I made a wedding vow to be faithful to each other. She must have jumped into the river to honor that vow by her death. If I marry another woman, how can I face her again when we meet in the underworld someday?”

Jeon Jaha said, “It is a great lack of filial piety to have no descendants. Without a wife, how can you have a son to carry on the family name and continue your traditions by paying tribute to your ancestors?”

Wang Sibung abruptly changed the subject of their talk, looking uneasily to his left and right to convey that he had no intention of remarrying. [Encouraged,] Jeon Jaha drew out the thorn hair pin and showed it to Wang Sibung, saying, “I happened to acquire this object. Does it not belong to your family?”

Surprise transformed Wang’s countenance. He exclaimed, “That is the hairpin that my mother personally sent to my wife!” For some time, he could only caress the hairpin and lament. The sound of his cries pierced the heavens. Finally he wiped his tears and asked, “How did you acquire this hairpin?” Jeon Jaha said, “Its owner is in the inner quarters.”

As Wang Sibung finally realized that his wife was there, he almost fainted. Meanwhile Ongnang peeked through a slightly open window and immediately recognized her husband. She wept with joy. Reunited at last, the ecstatic couple felt as if they would go mad with delight.

Ongnang told him first how she had felt during their separation, “Since my first day with you, with the thorn hairpin in my hair, I worked hard to achieve the three exemplary conducts13 and fulfill the womanly way every day of my life, diligently managing the household. We made a vow that we would enjoy one hundred years of happy marriage and wished to be buried together in the same grave. But how could you, a man who won first place in the civil service exam at the red terrace of the palace,14 and wore a tiger-shaped tally15at the pavilion of a bell,16 abandon your old wife, belittling the virtue and affection you had developed with her when you were poor and humble, and valuing more your affection for your new wife? How could you send your mother a letter to drive me out of the house so cruelly? Although my father, influenced by the cunning words of my stepmother, did not advise me to be faithful, it was not her words alone that caused the turmoil. It was primarily Son Yeogwon who played vile tricks on us. I decided to take the path of a precious pearl sinking into the deep sea to end my life so that I would not have to stand again before the silken [wedding] screen. The messenger sent to Joyang swiftly returned and reported your death. The news stunned me and tore apart my heart. I hoped to send your spirit to the underworld in peace, so I went to the temple to perform a ritual. There, I glimpsed someone who closely resembled you. I thought I was dreaming but wasn’t certain. Today in this government building, I am able to keep our old vow, as if meeting an old friend at the bank of the Xiang River.17 Remembering Jeon Jaha’s grace in pulling me out of the water to save my life, I feel I am indebted to him forever, just as I am indebted to my own parents for their love.” Clasped securely in each other’s arms, the couple cried until the day grew dark. 

Wang Sibung, after hearing the details of his wife’s ordeal, thanked Jeon Jaha until he ran out of words to further express his appreciation. He lingered, enjoying their reunion, like finding the mirror of Akjang18 and the sword of Yeonpyeong.19 

Next day, Wang Sibung returned to Bokju with his wife, but they routinely returned to greet Jeon Jaha three times on every tenth day. Ongnang said to Wang Sibung, “Let’s send some people with horses to bring my father, stepmother, and foster mother here.” Wang agreed. In the interim, however, the stepmother had gone blind and died. The foster mother had also passed away. Alone in his home, only Ongnang’s father remained. He was soon brought to Bokju. Thereafter, the couple served Ongnang’s father and foster father [Jeon Jaha] equally.

[Time passed and] Wang Sibung had a number of sons. All of them later won first place in the civil examination. The household grew, generating many descendants, and the family name shone. People no longer even remember them by their names; they simply call them “Top Graduate Wang.”

1 This translation, despite the fact that the tale was originally set in China, uses the Korean readings of names and places that appear in the original text. Because the base text is a Korean translation of the Chinese tale that was circulated and evolved among Koreans, the Korean reading reflects a Korean savor and traces of Korean reading habits, evoking the cultural connotations which the Chinese names and places held among Koreans. The name Wang Sibung is drawn from Koreans’ conventional reading of the Chinese characters “Sipbung” (十朋) which appear in the Korean translation of the tale. Jeong Hakseong said “Sipbung” seems to have been read as “Sibung” among seventeenth-century Koreans because “Sibung” was closer to the Chinese reading, at the time, of the characters, “Shipeng.”

2 Taewon (Taiyuan in Chinese 太原) is a historic city located in Shanxi province, China. It was called Jinyang (Chinyang in Korean 晉陽) during the Spring and Autumn Period (771–303 BCE) and remained an important site in traditional Chinese culture. 

3 Song (宋) China (960–1279).

4 Starting from here, the original text refers to Ongnyeon (玉蓮) as Ongnang (玉娘).

5 “Poetry and calligraphy” is a translation of siseo (詩書), which can also mean the Sigyeong (The book of poetry 詩經) and Seogyeong (The book of history 書經).

6 This sentence describes napchae (納采), the first stage in the traditional wedding known as “six marriage rites” (六禮), which consists of the groom′s family making a formal marriage proposal.

7 The original text uses the expression jogang ji cheo (糟糠之妻), which refers to a wife who endured the hardship of poverty with her husband while eating distillers’ dregs and husks. It also connotes a first wife who supports her husband before he succeeds.

8 These three expressions—”personally fetching water and grinding grain with the mortar” (操持井臼), “keeping your parents warm during the winter and cool during the summer” (溫凊之奉), and “treating them to delicious food” (甘指之養)—are commonly used in both China and Korea to describe the praiseworthy conduct of a virtuous wife and daughter-in-law.

9 The original text has traditional expressions for the companionship between husband and wife: “aging together for one hundred years (a whole lifetime)” (百年偕老) and “making an oath to be buried in the same grave” (同穴之盟).

10 Wang Chok (Wang Zhu in Chinese 王蠋) was a minister of the Qi (齊) state during the Warring States Period (ca. fifth century–221 BCE). He is known for his remark that “a loyal liege man does not serve two kings, and a chaste wife does not change her husband by marrying a second husband” (忠臣不事二君, 貞女不更二夫). 

11 Bokju (Fuzhou in Chinese) is a city in present-day Fujian province. Later in the text, Jeon Jaha is described as the governor of Bokgeon (Geonswi in Korean Ëï倅) while Wang Sibung is mentioned as the prefect of Bokju (福州刺史) or the governor of Bokju (Bokjuswi in Korean 福州倅). To reduce confusion in the translation, I refer to Jeon and Wang by their names.

12 Bokgeon (Fujian in Chinese 福建) is a province in the southern part of China.

13 The original text has samjeong (三貞), a woman’s three virtuous conducts toward her parents, parents- in-laws, and her husband. 

14 The literal translation of this passage is “winning the head of a dragon at the vermilion terrace” (捷龍頭於丹墀). The “head of a dragon” means “winning the first place in the civil service exam” (a top graduate 壯元). The vermilion terrace is an open, flat place (or series of steps) leading up to a palace hall.

15 “A tiger-shaped tally” is a translation of hobu (虎符), a typical token used by military officials as proof of authorization to command the army.

16 “Pavilion of a Bell” is a translation of ryeonggak (鈴閣), an official place or residence for soldiers to conduct military business.

17 The Xiang (湘) River (in present-day Hunan province) frequently appears as a place for missing and parting from friends. 

18 “Mirror of Akjang” (Lechang in Chinese 樂昌) is a story about Princess Lechang during the Chen dynasty (551–389). When the Sui dynasty (581–318) invaded, Princess Lechang and her husband Xu Deyan were about to part. Her husband broke a mirror in two and gave her half as a token of their promise and a hope for reunion. Later, Xu Deyan happened to see a broken piece of a mirror, which led him back to his wife. Lechang’s mirror is a common trope for the reunion of a couple.

19 The sword of Yeonpyeong (Yanping in Chinese 延平) also represents the reunion of two treasured swords, called Longquan jian (龍泉劍) and Tai’a jian (太阿劍), which were discovered by Lei Huan (雷煥) at the order of Zhang Hua (張華). Lei Huan gave one sword to Zhang Hua, while keeping the other for himself. However, Zhang Hua predicted that the two swords would be reunited again. Later, Zhang was killed, and his sword disappeared. Soon after, Lei Huan also died. One day, Lei Huan’s son set out carrying his father’s sword. As he passed the bridge of Yanping, the sword leapt into the river and disappeared. He searched for the sword but couldn’t find it, seeing only two dragons intertwined together. This tale indicates the destiny of the two swords to be united. An earlier version of this translation appeared as “Paean to Marital Fidelity in Poverty: the Wang Sibung giu gi, Korean Romance of the Thorn Hairpin.” The Review of Korean Studies 22, no. 1 (June 2019): 405–26.

Introduced and translated by Sookja Cho

Associate Professor of Korean and Comparative Literature

Arizona State University