The Painted Skin

Long ago, during the Qing dynasty, a wandering scholar traveled from town to town in search of knowledge and peaceful refuge. On a quiet autumn afternoon, while passing through a rural district, he encountered a young woman sitting alone beneath a grove of willow trees. She wore simple garments yet possessed an elegance so delicate it seemed almost unearthly. Her eyes shimmered with worry, and her voice trembled as she explained that she had fled from bandits who had attacked her family. With compassion overtaking caution, the scholar offered her shelter in his home.

The household, though modest, welcomed her kindly. She spoke gently, moved gracefully, and possessed a serene beauty that stirred admiration in all who encountered her. Yet there was something unusual about her presence, something so perfectly composed it seemed as if every gesture had been practiced with exquisite precision. The scholar assumed her grace came from noble upbringing and thought no further on it.

But within the home lived an elderly servant, a man of dull mind yet deep intuition. From the moment the young woman arrived, he felt an unsettling aura around her. Animals in the courtyard behaved strangely, cats avoiding her shadow and dogs growling low whenever she passed. The old servant warned the scholar repeatedly that something unnatural dwelled beneath her gentle appearance, but the scholar dismissed the concerns as foolish superstition.

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As days passed, the beautiful guest remained quiet and polite, often retreating alone to her room. One morning, the old servant claimed he had seen her slip behind a screen and remove something from her face. Alarmed by his trembling voice, he insisted to the scholar that she was not human at all. Again, the scholar refused to believe such tales, reprimanding the servant for speaking against an innocent young lady.

Still, unease began to creep into the scholar’s heart. Late one night, when silence blanketed the household, he quietly approached the woman’s room. A flickering candle cast long shadows across the door. Through a thin crack, he saw a sight that froze him in place. The young woman sat before a table, her back turned. Before her lay a sheet of human skin, painted with delicate features. As she lifted it like a mask and stretched it across her face, the scholar glimpsed her true form beneath it: a monstrous being with hollow eyes and a terrifying, ghastly visage.

Horror struck him to the core. He stumbled backward, gasping for breath, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his ears. When dawn arrived, the woman approached him with the same soft voice as always, but the scholar could not hide his terror. She lowered her eyes, and for a moment, beneath the painted illusion, a faint expression of ancient hunger flickered like a shadow.

Realizing she had been discovered, the demon no longer attempted to preserve her disguise. That very night, as the household slept, she revealed her monstrous form completely. Wind howled against the doors as she swept through the scholar’s chamber, her painted skin peeling away to reveal her true, dreadful face. With fierce swiftness she struck him, tearing into his chest and stealing the vitality from his body. When morning came, the scholar lay pale and gasping, barely alive.

His family, frantic with fear, sought help from every healer in the district, but none could reverse the demon’s attack. The old servant insisted that only spiritual intervention could save the scholar. Guided by desperation, the family sought out a wandering Taoist priest known for battling malevolent spirits.

The priest examined the scholar and immediately sensed the dark imprint of the demon woman. He explained that such creatures wore painted skins to deceive mortals, masking inner corruption beneath flawless beauty. With solemn determination, he prepared rituals to confront the entity, warning that success depended on strength of spirit as much as skill.

When night fell, the demon returned, gliding like a shadow wreathed in icy mist. The priest met her at the threshold, chanting sacred incantations that caused the air to tremble. She shrieked in fury, her layers of illusion burning away under the force of the ritual. Her monstrous body writhed as if countless serpents twisted beneath her skin. The priest lifted a talisman glowing with golden light. With a commanding cry, he shattered the demon’s power and forced her to flee into darkness, leaving behind only the lifeless sheet of painted skin that had once disguised her.

Though the demon was banished, the scholar remained weak, clinging to life by the thinnest thread. The priest directed the family to a reclusive sage who dwelled on the outskirts of the region. This sage, said to possess powerful spiritual medicine, listened to the family’s desperate pleas. After examining the scholar, he brewed a mixture of rare herbs, chanting prayers of restoration as dawn broke over the horizon.

Gradually, breath returned to the scholar’s lungs and color warmed his cheeks. The shadow of the demon’s attack faded beneath the sage’s healing arts. When he opened his eyes at last, his heart overflowed with gratitude and humility. He realized how easily deception could hide beneath beauty and how dangerous it was to trust appearances alone.

From that day forward, the scholar lived with greater discernment and deeper respect for the unseen forces that move through the world. He warned others never to judge by outward charm without seeking the truth beneath.

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