Long ago there was a temple monk who kept a dog and loved it. One day he went away some distance, and a passing traveller beat the dog to death and buried it in the rear garden. When the monk returned, he searched and searched but couldn’t find it, but the traveller reported its death. When the monk went to look for it in the burial place, it turned out that the dog had already turned into a huge serpent, its eyes alone not yet having transformed. The abbot hastily ruled that the traveller should chant sutras to redress the injustice. Suddenly, however, the same abbot had an enlightening dream and understood how to repay the crime. They then placed the traveller under a heavy cover. The serpent gradually approached, raising its head before the monk, and then went to seek the traveller. It coiled closely around him for three days and then departed, and when they lifted the cover and looked, the traveller was dead. All that remained were old dry bones.
Anon., Huhai xinwen yijian xuzhi, 前2.123 (Tale 216):
Yuan Haowen 元好問, Chang Zhenguo 常振國 (ed), Xu Yijian zhi 續夷堅志 (Continued Records of the Listener), and Anon., Jin Xin 金心 (ed.), Huhai xinwen yijian xuzhi 湖海新聞夷堅續志 (Continuation of Records of the Listener with New Items from the Lakes and Seas) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1986).