Hello.
Welcome to Chinese Folk Tales.
I'm Paul Osborne.
I've got another really great story to tell you.
I hope you enjoy it.
When looking at a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, Have you ever thought that it is almost beyond the capabilities of ordinary people to make?
And yet, we have the very proof before us, time and time again.
Proof of the skills of artisans across the world.
Something to cherish.
My story today is about just one such piece of work.
A brocade. a piece of woven fabric embellished with raised patterns and gold or silver thread.
Once upon a time there was a widow who lived alone with her three sons.
Day in, day out she would labour, making her brocades.
She was so skilled that her work would sell quickly in the market.
But such work takes time to do.
So even though she was very skilled, she was also very poor.
That's another one finished.
Tonight we shall eat.
Let me see, said the youngest of the three sons.
This must be one of your finest, mother.
It is so beautiful.
Oh, it's just another brocade.
To be honest, I am getting a little bored of producing the same old designs.
Next time I go to market, I'm going to look around for inspiration.
And that's indeed what she did.
After selling her brocades as usual, she looked around the market.
Oh, the colours aren't right on that.
That one's a bit small.
None of the other work she saw was as good as hers.
Is that the right way up?
I can't tell what that one is.
She wandered for some time until she happened upon a little merchant shop in an alley off the main part of the market.
It was dark inside, but she could see something shimmering in the gloom, slightly hidden under some old pots and pans.
Oh, my word.
What is this?
Um, I don't think this painting is for you.
It is far too expensive.
But the more she looked at it, the more she was amazed at its beauty.
It was a picture of a palace surrounded by lush green fields.
Birds with exotic plumage flew in the sky, and a sparkling river flowed through the scene.
She was transfixed.
I have never seen such beauty.
I must have it.
Then I can learn how it was made and copy it in one of my brocades.
And even though the picture was very expensive more than all the money she had made that day in the market selling her own work She knew what she should do.
I must have it.
Here, take all the money I have.
Would madam like it wrapped, or will you take it as it is?
When she got home, she showed the picture to her three sons.
See how beautiful it is.
I wish that I could live in such a beautiful palace.
Her two older sons laughed at her, but the youngest thought for a moment and then said Mother, why don't you weave the palace into your brocade work?
You're so skilled.
It would feel like you're there yourself.
My brothers and I will earn money to feed us by chopping wood until you have finished.
And that's what she did.
Day in and day out she sat in her room weaving on the loom.
She laboured like a woman possessed.
Her fingers became raw and her eyes red, but she was driven by seeing the design form little by little on her loom, just like the picture.
Her two eldest sons complained, saying they were tired of supporting her by chopping wood and that she should stop and go back to making money again.
But the youngest stepped forward and said, Don't listen to the mother.
Follow your dream.
The widow burned pine branches to provide light so she could work at night.
The smoke made her eyes water and as her tears fell onto her work, she wove them into the river in the picture.
Her fingers became sore and with the blood that fell, she made brilliant flowers in the brocade.
Finally, though, after a year's hard work, It was finished.
My three fine sons, come see, she called.
The brocade is finished.
At that very moment, there was a sudden gust of magical wind and the beautifully decorated cloth flew out of the window and high into the sky.
They all stood watching it as the wind carried it towards the mountains in the east.
The widow was distraught.
Oh, my sons, help me.
You must find my brocade.
Without it, I shall surely die of sadness.
Her elder son set off at once.
Before long, he came upon an old woman who asked him where he was going.
He explained the situation.
Ah yes, I know what's happened here.
It's the fairies.
The elder son looked doubtful.
If it's as beautiful as you say it is, then they'll have taken it away to make a copy.
They love to learn how to make beautiful things.
Here's what you need to do.
Knock out two of your front teeth.
Place them in my horse's mouth.
And he'll take you through the flame mountains to where the fairies will have the brocade.
Don't react to the heat or you'll burn to ashes.
Then you will encounter the icy sea.
But do not shiver or you will drown.
The eldest son was skeptical.
Or you can take this box filled with gold and go home.
Your choice.
The eldest son thought for a few seconds and took the box and went dreaming of the life of luxury he could live with all the gold.
He didn't go home but instead kept all the gold to himself.
Hearing nothing from her eldest son, the old widow sent her second son on the same mission to find the brocade.
He too came across the old woman.
He listened to the trials he would need to face to get the brocade back and also decided to take the box of gold.
After one month, the dying widow was so sad.
Her heart was heavy.
She'd worked so hard on the brocade.
Even if she only saw it one more time, she would be happy.
Don't worry, mother.
I'll find it, said the youngest son.
Just like his brothers, he stumbled across the old woman, who told him of the challenges ahead.
This time however, he took a deep breath and knocked out his two front teeth, fed them to the horse.
He then galloped east through the flame mountains, with no regard for the heat, and through the icy lake, taking care not to shiver, until finally he reached the far shore.
And there, true enough, he found a golden palace, just like the one in his mother's brocade.
Climbed the mountain and peeked inside the palace and was astonished to find 100 fairies trying unsuccessfully to make a copy of his mother's exquisite handiwork, which was hanging right there in front of them.
That's my mother's brocade.
You stole it, said the youngest son.
Please forgive us begged the beautiful fairy.
It is indeed your mother's brocade.
It was woven with such skill passion, blood and tears and it is so beautiful.
We need it please.
You can't keep it.
My mother is dying and must have it back.
The fairies looked shocked and upset that the skilled widow was suffering.
Please rest here tonight as our guest and we will finish the weaving.
We are so sad to hear of your mother's sadness.
It was not our intention.
Tomorrow you may take it home.
Finally, As the cock crowed to welcome the sunrise, the fairy brocades were completed.
In the morning light, they gazed upon their handiwork.
It's not as good as the original.
We are simply not as skilled as your mother.
The fairies were about to keep the brocade to try again when one of them had an idea.
I know.
I'll just embroider myself into the picture.
In the left hand corner.
Tomorrow the widow's son can take the brocade with me as part of it.
Then I can watch how she works and learn her skills.
The son rode ferociously back home, pausing at the old woman's house.
Good lad.
Who was so impressed that the boy had done everything he could to help his mother that she magically restored his two front teeth.
Well done.
And also gave him deerskin shoes which allowed him to get home in the twinkling of an eye.
Which was just as well as his mother was very ill indeed.
Mum, I have it.
I have your beautiful brocade.
The widow stirred when she heard her boy and while she was overjoyed to see him, she shed tears of joy at seeing her brocade again, and it revived her.
My son, my true son, you have brought me great joy.
I feel better already.
But what's this?
The widow had seen the fairy. peeking round the side of the tree.
I didn't weave a fairy into my picture.
Immediately, the magic brocade picture came to life.
The room was filled with the scent of the most fragrant flowers.
Birds with colourful plumage flew out into the air.
Animals grazed on the lush grass.
It grew and grew until the picture was as big as a palace.
In fact, it was a palace.
It was so big and so real and the fairy beckoned them both to step forward and into a life of luxury they would want for nothing forevermore.
And it meant the widow could become a true artisan and weave for pleasure, and in return she delighted in sharing her skills with the fairy weavers.
All her hard work had paid off in the end and her youngest son was rewarded for his devotion.
But what, you may ask, about the greedy, selfish older brothers?
Well, of course, they were never seen or heard of again.
And with that, we conclude this episode of Chinese Folk Tales.
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We'll see you next time.
Bye for now.
