When he was a young man, Song Dingbo of Nanyang was out walking one night when he met a ghost.
"I'm a ghost," said the ghost. "Who are you?"
"I'm a ghost too," Dingbo lied.
"Where are you going?" asked the ghost.
"I'm going to the market in Yuan."
"That's where I'm going too!" the ghost exclaimed, and the two set off together.
After a mile or so, the ghost said: "Walking is too slow. How about we take turns carrying each other?"
"Very good," Dingbo said.
So the ghost picked up Dingbo and carried him on his shoulders for another mile or so. "You're awfully heavy," said the ghost. "Are you sure you're a ghost?"
"I'm new at this," Dingbo said. "That must be why I'm so heavy."
When Dingbo's turn came, he found that the ghost weighed almost nothing. They took a few turns carrying each other.
“I'm new at being a ghost," Dingbo said again. "I forget -- is there anything we're afraid of?"
"Only the spittle of the living," the ghost said. And on they went.
They came to a stream, and Dingbo told the ghost to cross first. It made no sound at all as it crossed, though he strained to listen, while his own crossing involved much splishing and splashing.
"Why all the noise?" the ghost asked.
"I only just died," Dingbo said. "I'm not used to crossing water, that's all. Don't give me a hard time about it."
As they were reaching the market in Yuan, Dingbo tossed the ghost up onto his shoulders and held onto it as hard as he could. The ghost squealed and sputtered and begged to be let down, but Dingbo ignored its cries. He didn't set it down until they reached the middle of the market.
As soon as it touched the ground, the ghost turned itself into a sheep, and just as quickly Dingbo spat on it before it could change again. He sold the sheep for a string and a half of cash and went on his way.
—from Investigations into the Spirit Realm (Soushen ji), j. 16, compiled by Gan Bao (d. 336 CE)
Brilliant. Thank you
Beautiful characters. How very callous of you to jettison the last line of the story, though! Do you reckon the stone was a plaque in the marketplace: On this spot in 83BC, Dingbo sold a ghost for 1,500? Or was it scrawled mysteriously on the back of a ghosts' mountain latrine door: Dingbo sells you dead fuckers for fifteen hundred a pop...