Once upon a time, up in Heaven, the Jade Emperor had a daughter named Liễu Hạnh. She had an unruly, stubborn character, unwilling to abide by the disciplines of Heaven. The Jade Emperor tried his best to school her, but it was all in vain.
This made the Jade Emperor very mad. How embarrassing it was for him to have such an ill-behaved daughter, such a bad role model for everyone! One time, after Liễu Hạnh made yet another mistake, he decided to banish her to the mortal realm for three years.
On Earth, Liễu Hạnh turned into a gorgeous woman. She opened a tavern at the base of Transverse Pass. This area was desolate, with rough terrain and dense jungle, but it was also on the only road from north to south, so there were a lot of travelers passing through every day. For centuries, due to threats of bandits and wild animals, nobody had dared to set up business here. This means Liễu Hạnh’s sole tavern would see people coming in and out every day. Anyone who went up and down the pass couldn’t help but sojourn there, not only because it was a convenient spot, but also because the hostess was so beautiful to behold.
Yet banishment did little to curb her wilful, arrogant ways. She didn’t respect anyone, and even enjoyed toying with them. If a traveler only stayed at the tavern to rest, eat and drink, then he wouldn’t have anything happen to him. But if he found the hostess pretty and tried to flirt with her, or used his strength, his money, or his gods to act inappropriately, she’d mercilessly punish him. When men like that walked out of the tavern, they either collapsed to their death, or completely lost their mind.
The time Liễu Hạnh came to Earth was under the reign of Lê Thái Tổ. Rumors of a young, beautiful woman alone in a tavern at Transverse Pass soon spread far. All over the country, folks were whispering, gossiping about her. Some told the tale of a mighty martial artist who could take on one hundred people at a time. Some said she was a skilled vagabond, who not only knew how to seduce young men, but was also well-versed in some sinister, immoral trades. Others even said she was a faerie, descending from Heaven to test the hearts and virtues of mortal men. With so many theories flying around, it was hard to believe anything.
But still, rumors about the hostess at Transverse Pass continued to draw countless useless men from all walks of life. The Crown Prince—son of the Lê Emperor—was one of them. Hearing the fame, he started to fall in love with this mysterious woman. He wanted so badly to send men off and capture the fabled beauty of these rumors, but knew that such a big commotion would not sit well with nor be permitted by his stern sire. Not to mention, the woman was rumored to be both a warrioress and a wielder of magic . . . it would be unwise to charge forth without precaution.
Eventually, though, curiosity got the better of him. One day, he had his soldiers prepare a palanquin and some bags, pretending to be a young nobleman with a retinue. That night, he sneaked out of the palace. After ten days on the road, he crossed the Lam River, passed Mount Nam Giới, and came to Transverse Pass.
Up on the pass, Liễu Hạnh knew the Crown Prince was coming for her. She also knew he was mediocre and spineless, but filled with ego and liked frivolous pleasure. To slow him down, she turned herself into a peach tree on the side of the road, just around where the Prince was resting. On the tree, a ripe, round peach sagged from a low branch, looking very pretty.
When the Prince saw the peach, he couldn’t help but salivate and drool. Without waiting for his troops, he climbed up the tree and snatched the fruit. It looked so tasty, it smelled so sweet in his hands. As he held it up to his teeth, the peach suddenly softened like a maggot, then shrank. When he looked down, it had vanished into thin air.
“This peach’s possessed!” he shrieked in horror.
His servants freaked out. They flocked to him, pleading for the Prince to be careful. He shivered in fear, but failed to heed Liễu Hạnh’s subtle and graceful warning. He decided to go forward anyway. He hopped back into the palanquin and yelled at his bearers to hurry up.
Soon after, the escort arrived at the tavern. When they saw Liễu Hạnh, everyone was stunned by just how charming she was. The Crown Prince was speechless: He’d never laid eyes on a beauty so bewitching. She was just as alluring as the rumors said, and even in the palace, it was impossible to find a woman with such good looks. Covertly, he ordered his retinue to stop at the tavern. They lingered there, eating and drinking till the late afternoon. At sunset, he told the hostess: “Dear miss, the road is far, and the sky’s getting dark. We would like to stay here for one night. Would you mind us staying?”
Liễu Hạnh knew too well what he had in mind. She softly rejected: “Your Highness, our tavern’s too small, and there’s just a bunch of us girls here. I’m afraid you and your men won’t find it convenient. But there’s a village half a mile to the east. If you go that way, there should be houses and folks willing to host you.”
“Oh, don’t worry, miss! We just need a place to stay. Even if it’s just some space to set up mosquito nets, that’s fine too. Other than that, we promise we won’t bother you.”
“I see. Please feel free to stay then.”
That evening, they dined together, then prepared for bed. His palanquin bearers and servant soldiers sprawled out on straw mats in the tavern’s yard. As for the Crown Prince, he had two guards set up brocaded screens inside the tavern.
It was a cool summer night. The winds and the moon were both full of amorous implications. In the dim light of the oil lamp, the Prince leaned upon a wooden column to talk to the hostess. Not once did his eyes leave her. As for Liễu Hạnh, she sat patiently with him. Each of her words had a beauty to it, making him more and more obsessed. At one point, he forgot his promise, lost his control, and started making advances. Liễu Hạnh turned him down and fled into the inner room.
The Prince was filled with lust. No longer wanting to save face, he ran after her. Little did he know, in the blink of an eye, Liễu Hạnh had transformed, rushed up the mountain, caught a female monkey, brought it back, and turned it into a pretty girl. When the prince entered the room, he found no hostess, but saw the figure of another girl. He took her hand and led her to the lamplight. The young lady might not have been the beautiful hostess but beauty was beauty. He started caressing her.
Without warning, the guise vanished. In his hands was no longer a buxom woman but a furry monkey. He shrieked. His men were woken up, and, fearing for their master, they charged in, crying out for him. The monkey suddenly turned into a cobra, which slithered over his head and flung itself onto the roof beam. It opened its mouth, hissed out red fire, then disappeared.
When his men finally relit the lamp, the prince had fainted on the floor. His pale face was without a single drop of blood.
That night, the royal retinue sent for horses from the local relay station to bring the Crown Prince back to the capital. When the Prince arrived in the palace, he seemed as though his mind had fled him. Everybody asked him questions, but instead of replying, he just smiled and talked to himself. The Queen and the consorts were all worried. The Queen tried hard to cover up his improper journey, while also inviting all the best physicians from across the land. However, none of them could figure out what was wrong. The whole palace was even more scared. Only when somebody headed into Thanh Hoá Province and begged the Eight Vajrapani for help was the Prince finally cured.
Let us pause to talk about the Eight Vajrapani. A thousand years prior, Quan Âm, the bodhisattva of compassion, suddenly showed up on the East Sea. She created two giant pouches, one floating in the waves, one landing on Mount Ói in the village of An Đông in Thanh Hoá Province. After a long time, each pouch bore a flower, and from each flower came out four generals with wonderful magic. At Quan Âm’s order, the eight generals set off in eight directions, defeating all the malign gods and ghosts that were ravaging the world. Once evil was defeated, Quan Âm called them back to where they came from. These generals are often referred to as the Eight Vajrapani.
After rumors of the Eight Vajrapani and their magic reached Emperor Lê Thái Tổ, he sent his trusted guards into Thanh Hoá to ask for a spell. When they returned with the spell and cast it on the Prince, he slowly started to recover. Once he was healthy again, he kneeled and bowed to his father, confessing his sins and speaking of his encounter with the hostess at Transverse Pass. Emperor Lê Thái Tổ was furious: Not only did the Prince disobey him and sneak away, but he’d also gotten himself into magical troubles. The Prince was stripped of his rights to the throne, and his little brother was made Crown Prince instead.
But the Emperor was still angry. How could there be a woman in this country who scorned all the laws he’d set up? He sent a letter to the Defense Governor of Nghệ An Province, which was to the north of Transverse Pass. In his letter, he asked about the hostess, where she came from, and why she was so disrespectful to the laws of man. The Governor wrote back, saying she was a female demon, and nobody knew where she came from. The only thing people knew was that she liked to capture the souls of boys and men, and that she couldn’t be tamed without powerful magic and wits.
So the Emperor sent his best priests and wizards to tame this demon. But a few days later, they all came running back, begging for the Emperor’s forgiveness. As it turned out, when they headed south to confront Liễu Hạnh, she had triumphed over them all and stripped them of magic. It was a terrifying outcome for the Emperor. He pleaded with the Eight Vajrapani for help. Together, the eight of them flew up Transverse Pass.
Liễu Hạnh could sense danger approaching. Still, she came out alone, ready to fight.
It was a fierce battle. At first, the Vajrapani made a thunderstorm. Rain pelted down, winds shook the earth, trees fell one by one, water flooded and isolated Transverse Pass. But Liễu Hạnh, too, responded with magic. She made all the fallen trees stand back up, flinging rocks and soil at her foes. Defeated, the Eight Vajrapani turned into savage beasts, baring their teeth and claws as they charged towards her. She flew into the air just in time and cast a sweeping spell on the earth, defeating all the beasts.
Liễu Hạnh battles with the Eight Vajrapani. Illustration by Jeet ZDũng.
The battle lasted three nights and three days. Transverse Pass became a horrific battlefield. Both sides were using their best magic, but there were no winners. Knowing they couldn’t fight any longer, the Eight Vajrapani begged Quan Âm for assistance. The bodhisattva threw down a bag, which sucked Liễu Hạnh inside. The Eight Vajrapani carried the bag back to the palace and opened it in front of the Emperor.
“Who are you?” the Emperor asked when he saw Liễu Hạnh.
“Your Majesty,” she said, “I am a daughter of the Jade Emperor. I was exiled into the human realm, and my refuge is on Transverse Pass.”
“If you’re a daughter of the Jade Emperor, why do you terrorize folks and harm my son in such ways?”
“Your Majesty, I’m just punishing men who take advantage of women and force themselves on lonely people. That’s not against the law of the country, is it?”
Hearing her shrewd response and knowing her lineage from the Jade Emperor, the Emperor was relieved. After the questioning, he let her go. His only advice was that she shouldn’t cause any chaos or harm to the innocents.
Not too long after, Liễu Hạnh gave birth all by herself. Her son had six fingers on each hand. She took the child to a Buddhist temple on the Red Mountains and gave him to a monk there. She asked the monk to raise the child, so that he’d become glorious in the country. By that time, she’d already spent three years on earth. After leaving the child in the temple, she returned to Heaven.
But it didn’t take long for her to anger the Jade Emperor again. Once more, he banished her to the mortal realm.
This time, she came to Three Folds Pass in Nghệ An Province. It was yet another desolate region, and here, she built a three-story pavilion surrounded by citadel walls. In the citadel, there was a garden with fragrant flowers, exotic herbs, and colorful birds. Adjacent to the garden was a lake with all kinds of fish. Everyday, she opened the citadel gates to travelers. Just like last time, she set up a tavern and turned into a hostess, selling flowers, fruits, snacks, tea, betel leaves, and other goods. Those who only stayed and left were spared, but anyone who tried to steal from or woo her would be punished right away.
A few years passed, and Liễu Hạnh gave birth to another son, who had one missing finger on each hand. She sent the infant to a nun at the Temple of the Red Lady, telling her: “I’ve come down from Heaven twice, and each time, I’ve borne a son. I wanted them to be royalty, but one has too much, and the other has too little. Please raise this one for me. Help him earn his glory. Make him an Honored Graduate at least.”
Soon after, Liễu Hạnh’s time on earth was up. She burned her citadel to the ground and returned to Heaven. Her sons did indeed grow up to become famous; one of them was the legendary Graduate Quỳnh, beloved by Vietnamese folks through the ages for his intellect and wit. The plots of land where Liễu Hạnh had built taverns in Thanh Hoá and Nghệ An were both turned into sacred temples deep in the mountains. No one ever dared to touch anything in either temple, fearing the punishment of Mother Liễu Hạnh.
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Excerpted from Treasury of Vietnamese Folk Tales: Volume 1 by Nguyễn Đổng Chi, translated by Nguyễn Bình and Lan Võ, illustrated by Jeet ZDũng. Published by Major Books, 2026. Copyright © Major Books Ltd 2026. Reprinted with permission of Major Books. All rights reserved.
