There was a monk at the Shuilu Convent in Luoyang, called Great Joy, who had money. His neighbour Zhou worked as a runner for the county yamen. He was poor, and the tax money he was sent to collect he spent.
Each time the deadline came round he borrowed from the monk, until over several years the total reached seven ounces.
The monk knew Zhou could never repay, and stopped asking.
Zhou was grateful. Every time they met he said, “I can never repay your kindness in this life. In the next one let me be your donkey or your horse, and pay you that way.”
Not long after, there came a knocking at the convent gate one night, very urgent.
“Who is it?”
“Zhou. I’ve come to repay you.”
The monk opened the gate. No one there. He thought someone was playing a trick.
That night his donkey foaled.
In the morning he sent to ask after Zhou. Zhou was dead.
The monk went to the donkey. The foal lifted its head and struck out with its hooves, like an animal recognising someone.
He rode it for a year. Then a merchant from Shanxi came to lodge, took a liking to the animal, and offered to buy it. The monk refused, not liking to explain why.
“Then lend it to me to ride to such-and-such county and back — one night,” said the merchant.
The monk agreed. The merchant swung into the saddle, gathered the reins, and laughed.
“I’m cheating you, monk. I love this donkey and I don’t intend to bring it back. I’ve left the price on your table — go in and take it.”
And he rode off without looking round.
The monk could do nothing. He went into the room and looked.
On the table were seven ounces of silver. Exactly the amount of the debt.