人鬼之間，未必盡是恐懼與傷害，有時情義深厚，反映出更真摯的人性光輝。
Between humans and spirits, there is not only fear, but also loyalty and compassion that reveal the truest nature of the heart.
中文版本
漁人許生，居於江畔，以打魚為生。其人性情豪爽，素喜飲酒。每當夜歸，常於江邊獨酌，自言自語，似與人對談。旁人以為其醉中胡言，未加留意。
然許生心知，江邊常有一鬼與之相伴。其鬼自稱王六郎，形貌與常人無異，唯神色略顯蒼白。初見之時，許生亦驚，後見其言語溫和，無害於人，遂與之結為好友。
王六郎常於夜間出現，與許生對飲談笑，言談之中頗有見識。久而久之，兩者情誼深厚，宛如知己。
一日，王六郎神情凝重，對許生言：「吾久滯此地，因當年溺水而死，魂不得超。然今有機會投胎，須尋替身。」許生聞言，心中不安，問其意。
王六郎歎曰：「凡欲轉生，須有一人溺亡以代之。吾已見一人，將於近日遇水難。」言語之中，似有遲疑。
許生心中震動，沉聲道：「若以他人性命換你重生，於心何忍？」
王六郎默然良久，終低聲道：「吾亦不忍。然此乃天數，難以違逆。」
數日之後，王六郎再現，神色悲戚：「那人將至江邊，我若不行，機會將失。」許生怒曰：「若如此重生，與殺人何異？」
王六郎沉思片刻，忽然長嘆：「君言是也。」遂決意放棄轉生之機。
當夜，江水大漲，果有一人失足落水。王六郎立於岸邊，卻未動手。那人掙扎片刻，竟被浪推回岸上，倖免於難。
自此之後，王六郎不再提轉生之事。其形影亦漸稀，出現次數愈少。
最後一夜，他與許生對飲，語氣平靜：「吾雖失轉生之機，然得一知己，此生已足。」言畢，身影漸淡，如煙消散。
許生獨坐江邊，酒盞未乾，卻再無對飲之人。江風依舊，波光如昔，唯心中空落難填。
後人聞此事，皆稱王六郎為義鬼。許生亦終身不忘，常於江畔設酒，以祭故友。
人間多變，情義難得。即使陰陽兩隔，真心亦可長存。
English Version
Xu Sheng was a fisherman who lived by the river, making his living from the water. Known for his easygoing nature, he often spent his evenings drinking alone by the riverbank. Villagers occasionally noticed him speaking as if to someone unseen, but dismissed it as drunken rambling.
What they did not know was that Xu Sheng was not alone.
A spirit accompanied him—one who called himself Wang Liulang.
At first, Xu had been startled by the apparition. Yet the ghost bore no malice. He spoke gently, carried himself with dignity, and over time, the two formed an unlikely friendship. Night after night, they shared wine and conversation, their bond growing deeper with each meeting.
Wang Liulang was no ordinary ghost. He remembered his past life, spoke thoughtfully, and seemed burdened by something unresolved.
One evening, his demeanor changed.
“There is something I must tell you,” Wang said quietly. “I drowned in this river. My soul remains trapped here. But now, I have a chance to be reborn.”
Xu listened, uneasy.
“To pass on,” Wang continued, “another must take my place. A living person must drown.”
Silence fell between them.
Xu’s expression hardened. “And you would accept such a fate—for another?”
Wang hesitated. “It is the order of things. Without it, I remain here forever.”
Days passed in tension. When Wang returned, his voice carried a weight of decision.
“The moment approaches,” he said. “If I do nothing, the chance will be gone.”
Xu’s reply was firm. “A life exchanged is not rebirth—it is murder.”
Wang lowered his gaze.
That night, the river surged with sudden force. A man slipped and fell into the water, struggling desperately against the current.
Wang stood at the edge, watching.
He could act.
He could claim his chance.
But he did nothing.
The river shifted unexpectedly, carrying the man back toward the shore. He survived.
Wang remained still, as if something within him had finally settled.
After that, he spoke no more of rebirth.
His appearances grew fewer, his form fainter each time.
On the last night, he joined Xu once more by the river.
“I have lost my chance,” Wang said, “but I have gained something greater.”
Xu did not reply.
“Friendship,” Wang continued softly. “That is enough.”
As dawn approached, his figure dissolved into the morning mist, leaving no trace behind.
Xu sat alone, the wine untouched beside him.
The river flowed as it always had—but the silence was different now.
In time, the story spread. People called Wang Liulang a righteous ghost—a spirit who chose compassion over fate.
Xu never forgot.
Even years later, he returned to the riverbank, pouring wine into the current, honoring the friend who chose to remain in the shadows rather than claim life at another’s cost.
Some bonds, it seems, transcend even death.
