The Zither in the Fog

This demon was refined, and refinement was the trap.

She was a spirit of some cultivated mountain, and when she took Tripitaka she did not throw him in a cage or hang him over a fire. She carried him to a beautiful residence, dressed him in fine robes, and set about courting him — not the crude force of the scorpion, but poetry recited at evening, a zither played in the fog, wine and conversation and the patient, civilised campaign of a cultured being who has decided she wants this particular man and intends to win him properly.