聊齋志異《種梨》：道人一梨化萬樹，貪念與報應的荒誕寓言 | Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio: The Pear Tree Miracle and the Price of Greed
《種梨》是《聊齋志異》中極具民間傳奇色彩的一篇故事。蒲松齡以簡短篇幅描繪出一名道人當街種梨、瞬間成樹的奇景，同時借市井人物的貪婪與冷漠，映照人性的荒謬與因果報應。
“Planting Pears” is one of the most memorable supernatural tales from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. Through a bizarre street miracle, Pu Songling transforms a simple fruit seller’s greed into a haunting reflection on vanity, selfishness, and karmic consequence.
中文版本
盛夏午後，集市熱氣蒸騰。
城南街口，一名賣梨人推著木車而來。車上黃梨圓潤飽滿，香氣四散，引得行人頻頻側目。那人身形肥壯，滿面油光，凡有人問價，他總抬高聲調，像怕別人不知他的梨值錢。
不久，一名道人緩緩走近。
道人衣衫破舊，腳踏草履，手持拂塵，面容卻異常平靜。他望著車上的梨，微笑道：
「天氣炎熱，可否施我一顆梨解渴？」
賣梨人聞言，立刻皺眉。
「去去去！我這梨可不是白送人的！」
道人仍不生氣，只輕聲道：
「你車上數百顆梨，只贈一顆，又何妨？」
四周百姓也覺得賣梨人過於小氣，紛紛勸說。可那人越聽越惱，竟破口大罵：
「臭道士！沒錢還想吃梨？」
道人聽後，只是淡淡一笑。
這時，一名路過老者實在看不下去，便掏錢買下一顆梨，遞給道人。
道人向老者作揖致謝，接著竟當街把梨吃了。
他吃得極慢，彷彿故意讓所有人看清每一口。吃完後，他將梨核握在掌中，忽然低聲念咒。
下一刻，他竟蹲下身，在路旁挖出一個小坑，把梨核埋了進去。
眾人哄堂大笑。
「這瘋道人莫非真想種樹？」
道人不理眾人，只向旁邊孩童討來一瓢水，緩緩澆下。
風，忽然停了。
原本喧鬧的集市，竟在瞬間安靜下來。
泥土開始顫動。
有人揉了揉眼睛，以為自己看錯。可下一刻，一株嫩芽竟真的破土而出，並以肉眼可見的速度瘋狂生長。
枝幹扭曲伸展。
樹葉層層翻動。
短短片刻，一棵高大的梨樹已矗立街中央，枝頭掛滿金黃梨子，沉甸甸地垂落下來。
整條街瞬間炸開。
「神仙！」
「這是妖術吧！」
孩童們歡呼奔跑，大人則滿臉震驚。
道人哈哈大笑，伸手摘梨。
他一邊摘，一邊隨手拋給圍觀百姓。人群頓時陷入瘋狂，人人爭搶，滿地喧鬧。那些梨汁水飽滿，甜香異常，吃過的人無不稱奇。
賣梨人站在人群外，臉色卻越來越難看。
因為他忽然發現——
道人摘下的梨，竟與自己車上的一模一樣。
他急忙回頭查看木車。
下一瞬間，他全身冰冷。
整車梨子，竟早已空空如也。
只剩幾片葉子散落車底。
賣梨人氣得渾身發抖，怒吼著撲向道人：
「妖道！你偷我梨！」
道人卻不慌不忙，依舊笑著摘梨。
等最後一顆梨落下後，他忽然抽出腰間斧頭。
咔嚓一聲。
整棵梨樹應聲倒下。
道人拖起樹幹，轉身便走。
眾人還沒回過神，他的身影已消失在長街盡頭，只剩滿地落葉被風吹動。
賣梨人怒不可遏，連忙檢查車子。
忽然，他臉色煞白。
木車前方竟缺了一大塊木板。
那斷裂痕跡，赫然正是道人方才砍下梨樹的位置。
原來，那棵所謂梨樹，竟是用他的車板化成。
整條街先是一片死寂。
隨後，有人忍不住大笑。
笑聲越來越大。
賣梨人抱著殘破木車，滿頭冷汗，只覺四周目光像刀子般刺在身上。
那日之後，城裡再無人願向他買梨。
有人說，那道人其實是遊歷人間的仙人。
也有人說，他是專懲貪心之人的山鬼。
更有人深夜經過南街時，曾看見月光下有一棵巨大的梨樹靜靜站立，枝葉搖晃之間，彷彿傳來低低笑聲。
而樹下，似乎總有一名穿破衣的道人，正低頭削梨。
English Version
The summer market sweltered beneath a pale burning sky.
At the southern entrance of the town, a pear merchant pushed his wooden cart through the crowded street. The pears were large, golden, and fragrant enough to turn every passing head. He guarded them proudly, shouting exaggerated prices to anyone who dared ask.
Near dusk, a wandering Taoist appeared.
His robe was torn and dusty, his sandals worn thin from travel. Yet his face carried an eerie calmness, as though the noise of the marketplace belonged to another world entirely.
The Taoist stopped before the cart and smiled gently.
“Kind sir, would you spare a single pear for a thirsty traveler?”
The merchant frowned immediately.
“Get lost. These pears are not charity.”
The old Taoist nodded slowly.
“You have hundreds. Surely one pear would cost you little.”
The nearby crowd murmured in agreement, but the merchant only grew angrier.
“You beggars are all the same! No money, yet you expect gifts!”
The Taoist did not argue.
Instead, he quietly stepped aside.
An elderly passerby, embarrassed by the merchant’s cruelty, purchased a pear with his own money and handed it to the Taoist.
The Taoist bowed gratefully.
Then, before everyone’s eyes, he ate the pear with strange slowness. Each bite echoed in the sudden silence around him.
When he finished, he held the pear seed carefully in his palm.
Without warning, he knelt beside the road and dug a small hole into the earth.
The crowd burst into laughter.
“Is the madman planting a tree?”
The Taoist ignored them.
He borrowed a ladle of water from a nearby child and poured it gently over the buried seed.
Then something changed.
The wind stopped.
The chatter of the market faded into unnatural stillness.
The soil trembled.
At first, people thought it was a trick of the heat. But moments later, a green sprout burst from the earth.
Gasps spread through the crowd.
The sprout twisted upward violently, growing taller before their eyes. Branches expanded like writhing arms. Leaves unfolded in thick waves of green.
Within moments, a towering pear tree stood in the middle of the street.
Golden fruit hung heavily from every branch.
Children screamed in delight.
Adults stared in horror.
Some whispered that an immortal had descended among them. Others backed away, convinced they were witnessing forbidden sorcery.
The Taoist laughed loudly beneath the tree.
He plucked pears one after another and tossed them into the crowd. People rushed forward greedily, fighting for the miraculous fruit.
The pears were impossibly sweet.
Juice dripped from eager mouths as the marketplace dissolved into chaos.
But the merchant’s face slowly turned pale.
Something felt terribly wrong.
The fruit hanging from the magical tree looked exactly like his own.
He spun around toward his cart.
His breath stopped.
The cart was empty.
Every pear had vanished.
Only scattered leaves remained.
“You thief!” the merchant screamed. “You stole my pears!”
The Taoist merely smiled and continued picking fruit.
When the final pear was gone, he reached behind his back and produced a small axe.
With a single strike, the great pear tree crashed to the ground.
The crowd jumped back in terror.
The Taoist dragged the fallen trunk behind him and walked calmly toward the end of the street.
No one dared stop him.
By the time the people regained their senses, he had disappeared completely.
Only drifting leaves remained.
Shaking with rage, the merchant rushed to inspect his cart again.
Then he froze.
One of the cart’s wooden side panels was missing.
The broken edge matched perfectly with the size of the fallen tree trunk.
The horrifying truth spread through the crowd.
The magical pear tree had never existed at all.
It had been formed from the merchant’s own cart.
Silence swept across the marketplace.
Then laughter erupted.
At first it came from a few bystanders. Soon the entire street roared with cruel amusement.
The merchant stood trembling beside his ruined cart, drenched in sweat as mocking eyes surrounded him from every direction.
After that day, fewer and fewer people bought pears from him.
Some claimed the Taoist had been an immortal wandering the mortal world.
Others insisted he was a mountain spirit punishing greed.
And even years later, travelers passing through the southern market at midnight whispered strange stories.
Under the moonlight, they said, a massive pear tree could sometimes still be seen swaying silently in the darkness.
Beneath it stood a ragged Taoist, slowly slicing pears with a smile no living man should wear.
