某位官员一生沉溺于权势与官威，视排场、仪仗、下属的跪拜为生命中不可或缺之物。即便告老还乡，他仍每日端坐堂上，令仆人列队参拜，仿佛依然在任。然而命运弄人，这位官员终因年迈而亡——可他的魂魄却并未安息。
据说，他死后魂魄仍旧每日穿上官服，端坐公堂之上，自己给自己喊"威武"，自己给自己撑场面。没有人能看见他，没有一个活人在场——但他乐此不疲。这便是纪昀笔下最令人哭笑不得的一则短篇：一个人至死都放不下做官的瘾。
这则故事以荒诞为衣、以讽刺为骨，深刻揭示了权力对人心的腐蚀——它不仅塑造一个人的行为，甚至能扭曲一个人的灵魂，使其即使化为鬼魂，也无法摆脱对权势的执念。
A certain official spent his entire life intoxicated by power and authority, treating processions, entourages, and the kowtowing of subordinates as indispensable elements of existence. Even after retiring to his hometown, he still sat in the main hall every day, ordering servants to line up and pay their respects as if he were still in office. Yet fate intervened, and the old official finally died of old age — but his spirit refused to rest.
It is said that after death, his ghost still donned official robes each day, sat solemnly upon the judgment seat, and shouted "Mighty!" to himself, staging his own grandeur. No one could see him, not a single living soul was present — yet he never tired of it. This is one of the most darkly comic vignettes Ji Yun ever wrote: a man who could not shed his addiction to office even in death.
Clothed in absurdity and armed with satire, this tale profoundly reveals how power corrodes the human heart — it not only shapes one's behavior but can warp one's very soul, so that even as a ghost, one cannot shake free of the obsession with authority.
南皮某公，为官数十年，嗜好排场排场
pái chǎng
grand display; ostentatious ceremony
指官员出行或办公时的仪仗、随从等排场，是清代官场身份的象征。，日日不离仪仗仪仗
yí zhàng
ceremonial guards and insignia
古代官员出行时的护卫队列及仪仗物品，如旗帜、伞盖、回避牌等。。出门必有随从前呼后拥，入堂必有衙役列队跪迎。凡有客来拜，必先令其久候于门外，以显其尊贵。
凡属下进言，不论轻重，他必正襟危坐，令其行跪拜跪拜
guì bài
to kneel and kowtow
清代官场中最隆重的礼节，属下见上司须行跪拜之礼，表示绝对服从。之礼，然后方可开口。他最爱听的，是衙署中那一声威武威武
wēi wǔ
"Mighty!" — the ceremonial shout
衙役在官员升堂时齐声高喊的号子，用以震慑堂下之人，彰显官威。又称"堂威"。——那是衙役们在他升堂时齐声呐喊的号子，令他感到自己高高在上、威风凛凛。
后来他年迈致仕，告老还乡。然而回到故里后，他仍不肯放下旧日的做派。每日清晨，他照旧穿戴整齐，端坐于厅堂正中的太师椅上，命家中仆人依次上前行礼。若有谁不跪、不拜、不称"大人"，他便勃然大怒，斥骂不已。
家人苦不堪言，却也无可奈何。他的儿子私下对人叹道："父亲做了一辈子官，这瘾怕是入了骨了，怕是改不了了。"邻里闻之，皆摇头苦笑，说此公是"活官死做"——活着时做官，死了怕也放不下。
A certain gentleman from Nanpi served as an official for several decades. He was addicted to grand display排场
pái chǎng
grand display; ostentatious ceremony
Refers to the ceremonial pomp — processions, entourages — that signaled status in the Qing bureaucracy., never going a day without his ceremonial entourage仪仗
yí zhàng
ceremonial guards and insignia
The guard formations, banners, parasols, and warning tablets that accompanied an official on procession.. When he went out, attendants swarmed around him front and back; when he entered the hall, yamen runners lined up and knelt in welcome. Whenever a visitor came to pay respects, he made them wait outside the gate first, just to display his grandeur.
Whenever a subordinate wished to speak — no matter how trivial the matter — he insisted they perform the kowtow跪拜
guì bào
to kneel and kowtow
The most solemn ritual in Qing officialdom: subordinates had to kneel and kowtow before their superiors as a sign of absolute submission. before uttering a single word. What he loved most was that cry of "Mighty!"威武
wēi wǔ
"Mighty!" — the ceremonial shout
The synchronized roar bellowed by yamen runners when an official took the judgment seat, meant to intimidate those below and project authority. Also called "hall might" (堂威). — the chant that yamen runners bellowed in unison when he ascended the bench, making him feel towering and awe-inspiring.
Later, when he grew old and retired, he returned to his hometown. Yet even back in his native place, he refused to abandon his old ways. Every morning he still dressed in full regalia, sat upright in the great armchair at the center of the hall, and ordered his household servants to come forward one by one and pay their respects. If anyone failed to kneel, failed to kowtow, or neglected to address him as "Your Honor," he flew into a rage and berated them relentlessly.
His family suffered immensely but could do nothing. His son privately sighed to others: "Father spent his whole life as an official — this addiction has sunk into his very bones. I'm afraid it cannot be cured." When neighbors heard this, they all shook their heads and chuckled, saying this gentleman was "doing a dead man's job while still alive" — he played the official while living, and probably couldn't let go even after dying.
某公既死，家人治丧。丧礼毕，合家以为此事已了，从此可得清静。不料此后每至深夜，厅堂中便隐隐传来脚步声、咳嗽声，以及太师椅吱呀作响之声。起初家人以为是猫鼠作怪，后来渐渐觉得不对劲。
有胆大的仆人深夜秉烛前往查看，推门一看，只见堂上太师椅中端坐一人——身形依稀正是老爷！身穿补服补服
bǔ fú
rank-badge robe
清代官员的正式朝服，胸前背后缝有方形"补子"，上面绣有不同图案以标示官品等级。文官绣飞禽，武官绣走兽。，头戴官帽，面朝大门，正襟危坐，宛如生前升堂审案之态。
仆人惊骇欲绝，手中蜡烛落地，大叫一声跌出门外。家人闻声赶来，提灯再看时，堂上却空无一物，唯余太师椅微微晃动，仿佛刚有人起身离去。众人面面相觑，毛骨悚然。
此事一传十、十传百，邻里乡亲皆知某公"死而不已"，虽入土为安，魂魄却不肯散去，仍恋栈于公堂之上。有人嘲笑说："活着放不下，死了也放不下，这官瘾比鸦片还难戒。"
The gentleman having died, his family conducted the funeral rites. Once the mourning was concluded, the household believed the matter was settled and they could finally enjoy some peace. Unexpectedly, every night thereafter, faint sounds drifted from the hall — footsteps, coughing, and the creaking of the great armchair. At first the family blamed cats or rats, but gradually they sensed something was amiss.
One bold servant took a candle and went to investigate late at night. Pushing open the door, he beheld a figure sitting upright in the great armchair — the silhouette unmistakably the old master himself! He wore a rank-badge robe补服
bǔ fú
rank-badge robe
The Qing-dynasty formal court robe with square "mandarin squares" (补子) embroidered on the chest and back, depicting different animals to denote the wearer's rank. Civil officials wore birds; military officials wore beasts. and an official's cap, facing the main gate, sitting bolt upright — exactly as he had done when alive, presiding over cases.
The servant was terrified beyond measure. His candle fell from his hand, he let out a scream, and tumbled backward out the door. When the family rushed over with lanterns and looked again, the hall was completely empty — only the great armchair swayed slightly, as if someone had just risen from it. The onlookers stared at one another, hair standing on end.
The tale spread — one told ten, ten told a hundred — until every neighbor and kinsman knew that this gentleman "refused to stop even after death." Though his body was buried and at rest, his spirit would not dissipate, still clinging to the judgment seat. Some mocked: "He couldn't let go alive, and can't let go dead — this official addiction is harder to kick than opium."
更有甚者，有人夜间路过其宅，从窗缝中窥见堂上的情形，竟见那鬼魂不仅端坐堂上，而且自己给自己喊"威武"！那声音虽不似活人之洪亮，却也嗡嗡作响，阴森可怖。喊毕，鬼魂似颇为满意，微微颔首，然后正一正衣冠，继续端坐。
据目击者说，那鬼魂升堂的架势一如生前：正襟危坐，目视前方，双手扶膝，面色威严。只是堂下空无一人——没有原告，没有被告，没有衙役，没有师爷。他一个人对着空荡荡的大堂，演着独角戏，却演得认真至极。
此事传至纪昀耳中，纪昀叹曰："夫人之嗜好，至死不移，亦可悲矣！"意思是说：一个人的癖好竟然到死都改不了，这实在是可悲可叹啊。纪昀又补了一句，大意是：人尚且如此，那些自诩清高、不恋权位者，又有几人是真心的呢？——此言一出，将讽刺之刀又深了一层。
纪昀一生阅尽官场沉浮，见过太多人一旦丢了乌纱帽便如丧考妣，也见过太多人嘴上说着"淡泊名利"，暗地里却钻营不休。这则"官癖"虽短，却是他对整个官场生态的精准解剖：权力之瘾，深入骨髓，虽死不愈。
More remarkably, someone passing by his house at night peered through a window crack and witnessed the ghost not only sitting upon the bench, but actually shouting "Mighty!" to himself! The voice was not as loud as a living person's, yet it droned and reverberated, eerie and chilling. After the shout, the ghost seemed rather pleased, gave a slight nod, straightened his robes and cap, and resumed his solemn sitting.
According to witnesses, the ghost held court exactly as he had in life: sitting bolt upright, gazing forward, hands resting on his knees, face stern with authority. But below the bench there was no one — no plaintiffs, no defendants, no yamen runners, no clerks. He performed a one-man show before an empty hall, yet played it with the utmost seriousness.
When word of this reached Ji Yun's ears, he sighed: "That a man's obsession should remain unshaken even unto death — how lamentable!" Meaning: that a person's addiction could not be cured even by death was truly tragic. Ji Yun then added another remark, to the effect of: if ordinary men are like this, then how many of those who claim to be lofty and unattached to power are being sincere? — With this single observation, he drove the blade of satire one layer deeper.
Ji Yun spent a lifetime observing the rises and falls of officialdom. He had seen too many people who, upon losing their black gauze caps, mourned as if their parents had died. He had also seen too many who mouthed the words "indifferent to fame and fortune" while secretly scheming without cease. Though "The Official's Addiction" is brief, it is his precise dissection of the entire ecosystem of bureaucracy: the addiction to power penetrates to the marrow and cannot be cured, even by death.
纪昀（纪晓岚）一生三迁御史、两任学政、官至礼部尚书，是清代官场的深度参与者。正因如此，他对官场的讽刺入木三分，而非隔靴搔痒。"官癖"这则故事看似荒诞不经，实则是他观察官场数十年后的精确总结。
故事的核心结构是一个绝妙的递进：活着时恋栈 → 告老后不肯放下 → 死后仍要升堂。三个阶段层层推进，把"官瘾"这一概念推向极致。最妙的是最后一层——死后的鬼魂不仅要"坐堂"，还要自己给自己喊"威武"。这一个细节将讽刺推到了荒诞的顶点：权力已经内化到不需要任何外在确认的程度，一个人可以对着虚空行使权力，并从中获得满足。
从现代心理学角度看，这则故事精准描绘了一种"权力成瘾"的病理状态。权力成瘾者的核心特征是：他们的自我认同完全依附于权力角色。一旦失去权力角色——无论是退休、降职还是死亡——他们的自我就面临崩溃的危险。
故事中的鬼魂之所以不肯散去，不是因为他有什么未了的心愿或冤屈，而是因为他的人格已经与"官员"这个角色完全融合。没有了"官"的身份，他就不知道自己是谁。所以他宁可做一个孤独的鬼魂日日升堂，也不愿以一个"普通人"的身份去面对死后的世界。
这种心理机制在当代社会中同样屡见不鲜：退休后郁郁寡欢的高管、卸任后四处刷存在感的政客、离开体制后不知如何生活的公职人员——他们都是"官癖"在现代的不同变体。纪昀在两百多年前就精准地捕捉到了这一人类弱点。
"官癖"的高明之处在于它以喜剧手法处理悲剧题材。一个人至死放不下权势——这本质上是一个关于人性异化的悲剧。但纪昀选择用荒诞的鬼故事来呈现，让读者在笑声中感受到寒意。
那鬼魂"自己给自己喊威武"的画面，是全篇最令人忍俊不禁、又最令人不寒而栗的场景。忍俊不禁，是因为这个画面确实滑稽——一个人对着空无一人的大堂吆喝，就像一个过气的演员对着空荡荡的剧场谢幕。不寒而栗，则是因为我们隐约感到，这并非仅仅是古代官员的毛病，而是人性中某种普遍的、根深蒂固的弱点。
纪昀的高明正在于此：他不直接说教，不板着面孔批判，而是用一个看似轻松的鬼故事让你笑完了再细想——然后发现笑的是自己。这种"笑着笑着就沉默了"的效果，是讽刺文学的最高境界。
Ji Yun (Ji Xiaolan) served three times as imperial censor, twice as education commissioner, and rose to Minister of Rites — a deep participant in the Qing bureaucracy. Precisely for this reason, his satire of officialdom cuts to the bone, never merely scratching the surface. "The Official's Addiction" may seem absurd on the surface, but it is in fact his precise summary after decades of observing the bureaucratic world.
The story's core structure is a brilliant escalation: clinging to power while alive → refusing to let go after retirement → still holding court after death. Three stages push forward layer by layer, driving the concept of "official addiction" to its extreme. The most ingenious touch is the final stage — the dead ghost not only wants to "sit on the bench" but also shouts "Mighty!" to himself. This single detail pushes satire to the peak of absurdity: power has been so deeply internalized that it needs no external confirmation whatsoever. A person can exercise authority before empty air and derive satisfaction from it.
From a modern psychological perspective, this tale precisely depicts a pathological state of "power addiction." The core characteristic of power addicts is that their self-identity is entirely attached to their power role. Once that role is lost — whether through retirement, demotion, or death — their very sense of self faces the danger of collapse.
The ghost in the story refuses to dissipate not because of any unfinished business or injustice, but because his personality has completely merged with the role of "official." Without the identity of "official," he does not know who he is. So he would rather be a lonely ghost holding court every day than face the afterlife as an "ordinary person."
This psychological mechanism remains common in contemporary society: executives who fall into depression after retirement, politicians who desperately seek attention after leaving office, civil servants who don't know how to live after leaving the system — they are all modern variants of the "official's addiction." Ji Yun accurately captured this human weakness more than two hundred years ago.
The brilliance of "The Official's Addiction" lies in its use of comedic technique to handle tragic material. A man unable to relinquish power even in death — this is essentially a tragedy about the alienation of human nature. But Ji Yun chose to present it through an absurd ghost story, letting the reader feel a chill within the laughter.
The image of the ghost "shouting 'Mighty!' to himself" is the scene that most makes the reader want to laugh — and yet shudder. The laughter comes because the image is genuinely funny: a man shouting commands at an empty hall, like a washed-up actor taking bows before an empty theater. The shudder comes because we vaguely sense that this is not merely a flaw of ancient officials, but something universal and deeply rooted in human nature.
This is precisely where Ji Yun's mastery lies: he never preaches directly, never puts on a stern face to criticize, but instead uses a seemingly lighthearted ghost story that makes you laugh — and then, upon reflection, realize you're laughing at yourself. This effect of "laughing until you fall silent" is the highest achievement of satirical literature.
清代是中国官僚制度高度成熟的时期。官员的等级不仅体现在俸禄和权力上，更体现在一系列繁复的仪式与排场中：不同品级的官员穿戴不同的补服、乘坐不同规格的轿子、使用不同数量的仪仗。"威武"之声是公堂仪式的核心环节——衙役齐声高喊，既能震慑堂下之人，也能烘托官员的威严。
在这种制度下，"做官"不仅仅是担任一个职务，更是一种全方位的身份建构。官员通过排场、礼仪、称谓来不断确认自己的地位。当这种确认成为习惯，甚至成为本能，官员便失去了以"普通人"身份存在的能力。这正是"官癖"故事的现实基础。
"官瘾"一词在中国民间流传甚广，指的是一个人对当官、掌权的强烈渴望和依赖。民间有许多关于"官瘾"的笑话和传说：有人为了过官瘾在家中设公堂、穿官服、审假案；有人在戏台上扮演官员后便入了戏，不肯脱下戏服。
纪昀的故事将这一民间母题提升到了文学的高度。他没有写一个可笑的活人，而是写了一个可悲的鬼魂——这使得讽刺超越了个体层面，触及了制度与人性的深层关系：当一个制度将权力与人的存在价值深度绑定，人便不再是"拥有权力的人"，而是"被权力拥有的人"。
中国的讽刺文学源远流长。从先秦诸子的寓言（如《庄子》中的讽刺故事）、到唐传奇中的讽刺篇章、再到明清志怪小说中的讽刺短篇，"借鬼神写人间"一直是中国文学的重要传统。纪昀的《阅微草堂笔记》继承并发展了这一传统。
与同时代蒲松龄《聊斋志异》的浪漫笔法不同，纪昀的讽刺更为冷峻、含蓄。他不铺陈华丽的辞藻，不设计复杂的情节，而是以最少的文字达到最强的讽刺效果。"官癖"全篇不过数百字，却完成了对权力异化的深刻批判——这正是纪昀"以简驭繁"的文学功力所在。
《阅微草堂笔记》中的讽刺短篇往往以"纪昀闻之，叹曰……"结尾，这是作者的标志性手法。通过这一感叹，纪昀将自己的声音嵌入叙事之中，既点明寓意，又保持了克制。他不是愤怒的批判者，而是一个看透世情的旁观者——这种冷静的距离感，反而让讽刺更加有力。
The Qing Dynasty was a period of highly mature bureaucratic systems. An official's rank was reflected not only in salary and power, but in an elaborate system of rituals and display: officials of different ranks wore different rank-badge robes, rode sedans of different specifications, and used different numbers of ceremonial guards. The shout of "Mighty!" was a core element of courtroom ritual — yamen runners bellowed in unison both to intimidate those below and to magnify the official's dignity.
Under this system, "being an official" was not merely holding a position — it was a comprehensive construction of identity. Officials constantly confirmed their status through display, ritual, and forms of address. When this confirmation became habitual, even instinctual, officials lost the ability to exist as "ordinary people." This is the real-world foundation of "The Official's Addiction."
The term "official addiction" (官瘾) is widely circulated in Chinese folk culture, referring to a person's intense craving for and dependence on holding office and wielding power. There are many folk jokes and legends about this "addiction": some people set up mock courtrooms at home, don official robes, and preside over imaginary cases; others became so immersed in playing officials on stage that they refused to take off their costumes.
Ji Yun elevated this folk motif to the level of literature. He did not write about a ridiculous living person, but about a pitiable ghost — this lifts the satire beyond the individual level, touching the deep relationship between system and human nature: when a system tightly binds power to a person's existential worth, people cease to be "those who possess power" and become instead "those who are possessed by power."
Chinese satirical literature has a long and rich history. From pre-Qin philosophical fables (such as the satirical stories in the Zhuangzi), to Tang dynasty传奇 (tales) with satirical elements, to the satirical vignettes in Ming-Qing supernatural fiction — "using ghosts and gods to write about the human world" has always been an important tradition in Chinese literature. Ji Yun's Notes from the Yuewei Cottage inherited and developed this tradition.
Unlike the romantic style of his contemporary Pu Songling's Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, Ji Yun's satire is colder and more restrained. He does not lavish gorgeous rhetoric or design complex plots, but achieves the strongest satirical effect with the fewest words. "The Official's Addiction" is only a few hundred characters in its entirety, yet it accomplishes a profound critique of the alienation of power — this is precisely where Ji Yun's literary mastery of "achieving much with little" resides.
The satirical vignettes in Notes from the Yuewei Cottage often end with "Ji Yun heard of this and sighed..." — this is the author's signature technique. Through this exclamation, Ji Yun embeds his own voice within the narrative, clarifying the moral while maintaining restraint. He is not an angry critic, but an observer who has seen through the ways of the world — and this cool distance actually makes the satire more powerful.