《太华希夷志》

Because of an offense, I was demoted to a staff post in Hezhong Prefecture, Jinning, a place close to Mount Hua. I had long heard stories about the late Master Xiyi, Chen Tuan. In my spare time from official duties, I gathered accounts from old books and popular tales. I came to believe that he was a man of exceptional integrity and steadfast principles, truly an extraordinary figure of the earlier Song period. I therefore wrote Record of Master Xiyi of Mount Taihua to tell his story.

The Master understood the Classic of Changes and had deeply grasped its subtle principles. His judgments about people’s fortunes and misfortunes, and the auspicious or inauspicious course of events, often proved accurate—as precise as Cao Gui’s divinations. During the Five Dynasties, he aspired to end the disorder and bring relief to the realm; his learning encompassed the arts of imperial governance. When he heard that Emperor Taizu of Song had taken the throne and order had been restored, he entered Mount Hua and became a Daoist. Though summoned repeatedly, he refused to leave the mountain. After Emperor Taizong ascended the throne, he sent for the Master three times. The court treated him as an honored guest and invited him to sit and converse. His judgments about how events would turn out were later borne out. When the court wished to grant him an official post, he firmly declined, and before long he was permitted to return to the mountain.

Though he was a cultivator who had withdrawn from the world, his conduct accorded with the Middle Way. He took worldly affairs lightly, regarding official robes and rank as so much dirt. He faced princes and nobles with pride and treated the emperor as an ordinary equal. Content with seclusion, he did not pursue power or profit. His integrity was enough to restrain the trend of scrambling for advancement, and it was on a par with the principles upheld by recluses such as Chao Fu, Xu You, and Yan Guang. He honored the teachings of ritual and sought to strengthen good customs, making what contribution he could. Those who flatter the powerful and fawn like servants, sneaking in to call at night but putting on airs and bullying others by day, are no more than the stuff fermenting in a jar of pickled sauce—not worth mentioning.

I lived far away in Bao Prefecture and was later transferred to Puchuan. Because my family was poor, I had no choice but to travel two thousand li to take up the post. At first I served twice as an instructor; afterward, I held a succession of county appointments. Eminent scholars from the Palace Library repeatedly recommended me for a literary post, but I failed to be appointed because those in power were not of one mind. Ashamed to scramble for advancement, I carried on in modest posts in the prefectures and counties, making a living on my salary. I could never fulfill my hopes of studying and pursuing learning, and this often weighed heavily on my heart.

When I read the biographies of the ancients, I admired Master Xiyi’s noble integrity. I compiled this book in the hope of encouraging beginners to set their sights high. If it contains mistakes, or repeats errors found in vulgar hearsay, that is due to my limited understanding. I have also edited and supplemented the accounts in order to portray the Master’s lofty aspirations, and hope that readers will grasp something from them. In the autumn, on the jiwei day of the seventh month of the jiayin year of the Yanyou era, Zhang Xia of the Zhai Studio wrote this preface.

Record of the Mysterious and Elusive Master of Mount Taihua, Volume One

Compiled and supplemented by Zhang Xia, courtesy name Nanzhai, Gentleman for Service, and Administrator of Hezhong Prefecture.

The Master’s given name was Bo and his courtesy name was Tunan. He was from Zhenyuan in Bozhou. When he was a child, he was playing beside the Wo River and became thirsty. It is said that an old woman dressed in blue took him in her arms, nursed him, and said, “From now on, you will have no more cravings or desires, and your intelligence and abilities will surpass those of ordinary people.” Later, some suspected that the old woman in blue was the essence of the planet Mercury.

As he grew older, the Master studied for the civil service examinations. During the Changxing era of the Later Tang, he sat for the jinshi examination but did not pass. Afterward, he withdrew to Jiushi Rock on Mount Wudang, abstained from grain, and cultivated his breath for more than twenty years.

It is said that he often burned incense and read the Book of Changes late at night, when all was quiet. Five old men came to listen to his recitation. Their eyebrows and hair were completely white, and they had strange appearances. They visited often, and after some time the Master asked where they came from. They replied, “We are the dragons of the Sun-and-Moon Pool on this mountain. This is where the Dark Warrior, the northern deity revered in Daoism, keeps watch.” Mount Hua was where the Master lived in seclusion.

On another day, while Master Xiyi was sitting in meditation, five dragons suddenly appeared. They told him to close his eyes, then carried him through the air on the wind. In a single night they brought him to Mount Hua and set him down on a flat rock. When the Master opened his eyes, he could no longer see where the five old men had gone. Some also say that the dragons taught him his method of sleep, since dragons are skilled at sleeping.

The Master often stayed behind closed doors. At times he would sit alone in meditation for more than a hundred days without rising. Emperor Shizong of Zhou once summoned him to the palace and had him sleep inside a sedan chair, intending to test him. More than a month passed before the Master opened the chair’s door. When he awoke, he was still sleeping peacefully as usual. Only then did Emperor Shizong realize that he was extraordinary.

Emperor Shizong asked him about the arts of refining yellow and white—that is, alchemical techniques for seeking gold and silver. The Master replied, “As ruler of the realm, Your Majesty should be concerned for the people. How can you turn your attention to such things?” Emperor Shizong was displeased. He sent the Master back to the mountain, bestowed on him the title “Master White Cloud,” and ordered the Chief Secretary to send regular inquiries after him.

The Master had the ability to govern the realm. During the Five Dynasties, from the transition between the Later Jin and Later Han onward, whenever he heard news of a change of dynasty, he would furrow his brow and grieve for several days. When people asked him why, he would only stare at them without replying.

Mr. Chen Tuan, styled Xiyi, was a Daoist of the Northern Song. Holding up a mirror to look at himself, he said, “If I do not become an immortal, I am certain to become an emperor.” Such was the ambition he held for himself.

When Emperor Taizu of Song and Zhao Pu were traveling through Chang’an, they met Mr. Xiyi. The old master laughed and tumbled from his donkey, saying, “A perfected person is among the living after all!” He then took Taizu by the hand and asked, “Shall we go buy some wine?” Taizu agreed, and Mr. Xiyi set off with Scholar Zhao, as Zhao Pu was called.

Mr. Xiyi glanced sideways at Zhao Pu and said, “That will do, that will do.” When they reached the tavern, Zhao Pu took the seat on the left. Mr. Xiyi grew angry, seized him, and said, “How can a minor star in the Ziwei Imperial Enclosure, the constellation that symbolizes the emperor, take the place of honor?” He scolded Zhao Pu and made him sit on the right. The master had already recognized Taizu’s imperial bearing.

Later, Mr. Xiyi entered the city of Bianzhou with several hundred young men. On the way, he heard that Taizu had ascended the throne and laughed with delight. When someone asked why, he laughed again and said, “From now on, all under Heaven will be at peace.” He composed a poem: “For forty years I slept in deep slumber, unaware that the sun had already risen in the east.”

The master then withdrew to Mount Hua and lived as a Daoist recluse. Emperor Taizu summoned him repeatedly, but he never went. After Taizu died, Taizong succeeded him. On the tenth day of the fourth month in the first year of the Zhidao era, Taizong held court at the Chuigong Hall. The seasons were favorable and the harvests abundant; government affairs were proceeding steadily and in good order. The emperor had long heard of the master and, weary of worldly splendor and fond of the Daoist quietude of Wuwei (non-action), sent Chen Zongyan, an attendant official of the palace, as his envoy. Chen carried an imperial edict and a poem by the emperor to the Yuntai Abbey on Mount Hua, in Huayin County, Huazhou, to summon Mr. Chen Tunan to court.

On the fourteenth day of the fourth month, Chen Zongyan arrived in Huayin County. The county magistrate, Ding Shouming, a Hanlin scholar, went out to welcome him and escorted him into the county seat. It was already late, so they lodged there for the night. At dawn the next day, he and the envoy set out for Yuntai Abbey. On the fifteenth day of the fourth month, they arrived at the abbey and met the Daoist Zhong Xihui. Zhong Xihui led them to pay their respects to the master and announced, “The emperor summons you, Master.”

The master washed his hands, lit incense, and bowed to the edict. Then he listened as the envoy read it aloud:

“Since ascending the throne, I have pacified the various regions. My authority reaches far across the myriad states; lands near and distant have submitted to the court’s civilizing influence, and both the central realm and the frontier regions are at peace.”

I have learned that you cultivate the Dao in the mountains, far from the dusty world, keeping your mind and spirit pure and nurturing a simple, noble Qi. You answer to the Shaowei star in the heavens, a constellation that symbolizes hermits. Your integrity is comparable to that of Chaofu and Xuyou, and your practice of the Dao follows the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. You possess plans for governing the realm, yet do not go to pay court to princes and lords; you have the talents of a minister and general, yet have never entered government service. You would not yield even to the Son of Heaven, so how could you be content to live hidden among three mountain peaks? Now you have come riding on the wind, and the entire court, civil and military, celebrates your arrival.

The emperor composed a poem:

“On Mount Hua, I have often heard people speak of you

and learned that your surname is Chen.

I ask among the clouds of the immortal guests

who travel between the Three Isles:

you are a lofty sage, beyond the dusty world.

Making the elixir is your daily practice;

the green mountains are your neighbors.

I wish to visit you in person,

but the affairs of state keep me bound, and I cannot go.”

After hearing the imperial decree and poem, the master said to the envoy, “This poor Daoist dwells beyond the dusty world and cultivates in the mountains. I have no desire to seek fame; my heart is devoted only to the Great Dao, and I do not wish to enter government service.”

After bowing and taking his leave, the envoy departed. The master still refused to enter court, and sent back a letter and a poem in reply:

“I am a mountain dweller, born in Hao and raised south of the Han River. In my youth I studied the Confucian classics; as an adult, I traveled widely among grottoes and caverns. My nature is like that of the wei bird, untamed and impossible to train; my resolve is like cold ashes. I do not understand the depths of benevolence and righteousness, so how could I know whether to serve or withdraw, advance or retreat?

“I wear a garment of tattered lotus leaves and a hat made from fallen bark. Green hair grows on my body, and I have not even a pair of straw sandals on my feet. I aspire to the Dao of Xihuang and Xuanyuan—that is, Fuxi and the Yellow Emperor—and have no wish to recite the statecraft of Guan Zhong and Yue Yi. I often read the Nanhua Jing, the Zhuangzi, and the Dao De Jing; I have long since lost any fondness for government offices and splendid halls. A few lines of a purple decree have troubled a colored phoenix into carrying it here; my quiet heart has long been held by the white clouds. If I were made to ascend the court, I would only invite the enlightened emperor’s ridicule.”

The poem says:

“From the imperial palace comes a special decree,

its purple seal pressed into the clay.

My poor and clumsy talents seek only a quiet home

where I may live in peace.

Mountain colors fill the courtyard,

as though nature had set up a painted screen;

through ten thousand valleys, the pines roar and sigh,

like strings sounding on a zither.”

I have no desire to enjoy official salaries or rise to high office at court. If I wished to seek immortality, I would go to the abodes of the immortals. I have long since stopped caring about the worldly honors brought by official robes and carriages. I wish only to live in seclusion among the Three Peaks of Mount Hua and sleep for a thousand years.

Seeing that Master Chen Tuan, the Daoist of the Five Dynasties and early Song period, firmly refused the summons, the envoy took the memorial in reply and the poem and returned to the capital on the twenty-fourth day of the fourth month. He presented them to Emperor Taizong in the Zichen Hall, where the emperor received his officials and discussed state affairs. After reading the memorial and poem, Taizong understood that the Master was unwilling to come. He was greatly displeased and continued to dwell on the matter.

On the third day of the sixth month that year, Taizong summoned Zhang Suzhen, an attendant official of the palace hall, to the Chuigong Hall and ordered him to take an edict and summon the Master once again. On the eighth day of the sixth month, Zhang Suzhen arrived at Yuntai Monastery on Mount Hua. He saw a mountain attendant standing with bamboo slips in his arms and asked, “Is your master here?” The attendant replied, “The master is asleep in his hut.” The envoy asked, “How can he be woken?” The attendant said, “Strike the golden bell beside his head and he will wake.” After the envoy struck the bell, Master Chen awoke. Learning that the emperor’s envoy had arrived, he hurriedly got up and put on his Daoist robes. He asked the envoy, “Why have you come again?” The envoy replied, “The emperor was deeply disappointed that Master Chen did not come when summoned by Chen Zongyan, so he has specially sent me to invite you once more.”

Master Chen burned incense and bowed, then listened as the envoy read the edict aloud. It said: “I admire you, Master, as a noble recluse among the white clouds and an immortal dwelling in emerald caverns. You have grasped the wondrous gateway of the Great Dao and understood the profound principles of ‘Xiyi’—the subtle and the imperceptible. I lament how swiftly time passes and how impossible it is to hold it back: summer gives way to winter, my appearance grows old, and my hair has changed. Though I understand the strategies for governing worldly affairs, I am unfamiliar with the methods for cultivating the mind and nature. For this reason, I neglect sleep and meals in my longing for worthy men. I hope you will leave your cavern for a time, ride to the capital in a carriage drawn by a phoenix or a crane, and take your place at court. I will treat you with the respect accorded to officials of the court.”

After hearing the edict, Master Chen replied to the envoy: “I am a poor Daoist from the wilderness, keeping company with deer and wild boar, climbing high to gaze into the distance and rinsing my mouth by the water…”

After reading the emperor’s edict, the master replied to the envoy: “I am a recluse from the mountains, keeping company with deer and pigs. I climb to high places to gaze into the distance and rinse my mouth beside streams. Pine and osmanthus trees are my friends; mist-wreathed peaks and ridges lit by rosy clouds are where I wander. How could I envy the wealth and splendor of worldly life? Please let the imperial envoy pause his carriage and horses for a while and rest at a small mountain hermitage. I will write a memorial in reply and a poem to thank the emperor for his generous kindness.”

The memorial read: “Your servant is foolish and incapable, and has long lived in seclusion among the valleys. I have been honored by Your Majesty’s summons, but am truly unworthy of it. I possess none of Zhuge Liang’s extraordinary talents, yet Your Majesty’s generous virtue surpasses that of the Han emperors. By nature, I am like a mountain deer; in bearing, like a wild crane. I long only for freedom and ease. Carriages, horses, robes, and caps bestowed by high office and noble rank would only bind me. I climb the Canglong Ridge and drift into a tranquil dream; I gaze at the lotus flowers in the Jade Well, and poetry surges within me. At the mouth of my cave, I feast on rosy clouds—the Daoist practice of absorbing the Qi of clouds and rosy mists. In the woods, I gather bracken and fern. Leaning on my staff and wearing my straw sandals, I stroll at leisure, my body and mind at rest. I refine elixirs in the furnace, hoping one day to ascend to immortality. I shun empty worldly fame, and am always wary of the troubles that reputation can bring. Fortunately, I have encountered a sage ruler like Yao and Shun, allowing me to keep my distance from worldly affairs and live freely, like Chaofu and Xu You. I ask only to pass the rest of my life in peace, gazing from afar at this enlightened age.”

He wrote two quatrains:

“Born into an age of sage rulers, like the time of Emperor Yao;

Even a foolish mountain recluse has received the emperor’s summons.

I laugh at my own indolence and meager learning;

How could I dare hope to appear at court before the Son of Heaven?”

“Attuning the Qi of the four seasons depends entirely on refining elixirs;

I practice all manner of methods only to bring peace to body and mind.

The high officials who dwell in the Yellow Pavilion hold no appeal for me;

The lovely life of leisure in the mountains is better than serving as an official.”

After receiving the memorial and poems, the envoy could not compel the master to go with him. On the sixteenth day of the sixth month, the envoy reached the capital and presented the memorial and poems at Wende Hall. After reading them, Taizong heard that the master had not come and was displeased. On the twenty-ninth day of the sixth month, Taizong summoned his attendants to Chuigong Hall and asked, “Among the officials, who is eloquent and capable?” Shi Bao, Director of the Inner Treasury, replied, “Ge Shouzhong, Deputy Commissioner of the Inner Treasury, speaks well.” Taizong summoned Ge Shouzhong and ordered him to make another journey to invite Master Xiyi to court. Shi Bao set out for Yuntai Abbey carrying the edict and the emperor’s poem.

On the seventh day of the seventh month, an envoy from the court arrived at the Daoist temple, but did not find the Master. Yang Zizun, a Daoist in charge of the temple, told the envoy, “The Master was concerned that the emperor might summon him again. Hearing that he had been called to Yuquan Temple, he withdrew from worldly affairs and went to sit in quiet meditation.” The envoy asked Yang Zizun to lead the way. They followed a narrow path strewn with bowl-shaped stones until they reached the place where the Master was staying.

The envoy announced that the Master was to receive an imperial decree. The Master came out to greet him. After burning incense and completing the formal rites, he listened as the envoy read the decree:

“I have received the Mandate of Heaven above and pacified the people below. The fighting has ceased, and peace prevails throughout the four seas. Our teachings have spread, and harmony reigns across the land. The people live and work in peace, eat their fill and drink their fill, and together praise the Way of Wuwei (non-action). They dig wells and plow fields, each keeping to their own work, and thus understand the worth of a sage’s appearance in the world. Now the seas are calm and the Yellow River runs clear; I look forward to a gentleman leaving the mountains to set the age aright. The Master’s reputation has spread across the realm, as wind bends the grass; yet you remain among mountain crags and ravines, your thoughts ever turned toward the immortal realm of Penglai, your spirit roaming the boundless heavens and earth.

“I have long admired the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan for his far-reaching benevolence, and regret that I lack the art of cultivation possessed by Guangchengzi. Though the Master’s dwelling is remote and secluded, the court’s gracious favor should still be able to reach you. Yi Yin answered a summons and went to Bo; Mencius accepted an appointment and went to Liang. Now that the command has been issued, you should come without excessive reluctance or deference.”

The decree also included a poem composed by the emperor:

“Three times I have summoned you, yet you still do not come to court. Do not shrink from the toil of a thousand miles across mountains and passes. Open the mountain and seek jade: in the end, you will surely find it. Turn iron into gold: it is not beyond hope. The ample purple robe is just right for you to wear, and the purple pouch holding the golden seal may hang at your waist. If I can rely on the Master’s aid, why should I fear the people will cease their songs of joy?”

After reading the decree and poem, the Master still did not wish to accept the summons and once again declined with courteous words. The envoy, Shouzhong, said, “The emperor has summoned you three times. It is truly wrong for you to keep refusing. Have you not heard what the Analects says? ‘When summoned by the ruler, a minister sets out before his carriage is even ready.’”

How could one refuse an imperial edict? The Book of Zou also says, “Throughout the lands of the four quarters under Heaven, there is no one who is not a ruler’s subject.” So it could not be declined. Though my talent and learning were modest, I wrote a poem for the Master:

“Between the three peaks of Mount Hua, a hermit dwells in seclusion, long since having forgotten the passage of years. The rosy clouds are his livelihood; cloud and water are his home. He plants herbs beside his thatched pavilion and pines by the mountain stream. For now, he leaves his immortal grotto to answer the summons and meet the ruler.”

The Master was very pleased when he had read it, and set out with the envoy. He then composed a poem in reply:

“Clad in a crane-feather cloak, I drift like an immortal; how could I bear to be bound by fame and fortune? Leaving Mount Hua, my heart is heavy with sorrow; I gaze back at Yuntai until my eyes can see no farther. The storms of the dusty world are perilous indeed, while gulls free of scheming drift at ease. I had only just hoped to rest in peace between the three peaks when, from the edge of Heaven, came another imperial edict.”

After composing the poem, the Master went with the envoy. At parting, he wrote one more quatrain for his Daoist companion in hemp robes who remained in the mountains:

“Before the peaks of Mount Hua, the road divides in two. I have often asked about the thatched hut beside the stream clouds. The master says that what the ears hear and the heart knows will become clear in time; as for the rights and wrongs of human life, I have never heard of them.”

The Daoist in hemp robes replied with a poem:

“Alone in a thatched hut far from the dusty world, I keep no alms bowl at my side. When I meet others, I do not speak of their affairs; when they ask after me, I answer that I have nothing to do.”

The Master read the poem and silently understood its meaning. After they parted, he and the imperial envoy soon reached the capital and lodged at Jianlong Abbey. As he slept that night, he happened to hear the palace bells and, reflecting on worldly affairs, wrote two poems:

“Every household has shut its many doors. Stars fill the sky, and all around is still. Just as the rights and wrongs of the dusty world are about to fall silent, the street drums that enforce the curfew and announce the hours begin to sound.”

“The Milky Way slants across the sky, and night is nearly over; still, the sleeper’s thoughts on his pillow do not cease. Pity those in the marketplaces who chase fame and profit: most are bound by them even in their dreams.”

The Master slept until the fifth watch. Hearing the dawn bell, he began reciting a poem again: “Just as the rights and wrongs of the dusty world are about to fall silent, the street drums that enforce the curfew and announce the hours begin to sound. The Milky Way slants across the sky, and night is nearly over; still, the sleeper’s thoughts on his pillow do not cease. Pity those in the marketplaces who chase fame and profit: most are bound by them even in their dreams.”

When the fifth watch was nearly over, the Master heard the dawn bell and composed another poem:

“The water clock is almost spent, and the moon sinks lower. A clear bell rings out, piercing the cold night. It stirs deeper homesickness in those lodging beyond the city, and quietly kindles bitter sorrow in those parted from their loved ones. Beneath the window, its sound awakens thoughts of fame and profit; beside the pillow, it rouses a mind that weighs right and wrong. Emperors and ministers have all known such moments. The rise and fall of dynasties has continued through the ages, right down to today.”

After composing the poem, the Master washed his face, rinsed his mouth, and combed his hair. At daybreak, he had his envoy enter the palace first to report, “The Master requests an audience with the emperor.” The emperor promptly ordered someone to summon him to the palace gate and received him in the Yan Ying Hall.

The Master wore a feather robe, the clothing of a Daoist, a Huayang headcloth, the headwear of a Daoist, and straw sandals tied with flowing ribbons. He paid his respects to the emperor according to the rites for a guest. The emperor offered him a seat and composed a poem to ask him:

“I hear you attained the Dao many years ago and take several pills of elixir every day. It is remarkable that your temples are not white, and your face still looks youthful. Where do you sleep through the night, and what do you contemplate? After your morning fast, which altar do you ascend? Would you be willing to teach me your mysterious secret? I too would like to live as freely and peacefully as you.”

The Master replied:

“I attained the Dao many years ago, and each day I take the Elixir of the Two Qi, cultivated from the two forces of Yin and Yang. After drinking immortal wine, my hair grows black as lacquer; after eating peaches of immortality, my face returns to the look of childhood. At midnight, I lodge only at the Cloud Terrace Monastery. After fasting at dawn, I ascend the altar for ritual registers, where Daoist rites such as purification and the transmission of registers are performed. Your Majesty asks about the methods of self-cultivation; deep in Mount Hua is where one can live in quiet seclusion.”

After reading the Master’s poem, Emperor Taizong was delighted. The emperor was then planning to send troops to attack Hedong, and the Master urged him to call off the campaign. But the army had already set out, so the emperor had the Master stay in the imperial garden. When the troops later returned, they had indeed achieved no victory. The Master slept for more than a hundred days before waking. The emperor was astonished and bestowed an additional honorific title upon him, treating him with exceptional generosity.

Taizong said to Master Xiyi in a calm and unhurried manner, “My elder brother, the founding emperor, had great achievements and abundant virtue, yet he could not invite you here. My achievements are small and my virtue shallow, yet I have troubled you to come all the way to the palace.”

Chen Tuan said, “The late emperor did not need me to come and see him, but Your Majesty cannot avoid seeing me once.” Taizong then asked, “Can the world as it was governed in the time of Yao and Shun still be realized today?” Chen Tuan replied, “In Yao and Shun’s time, palaces were only earthen platforms three feet high, roofed with thatch left untrimmed. Such a way of life may seem difficult to attain. Yet if the world is governed through quietude and Wuwei (non-action), our age too can become a flourishing era like that of Yao and Shun.” Taizong praised him.

Taizong often summoned Chen Tuan to the palace for conversation. He told the chancellor Song Qi, “Chen Tuan cultivates only himself and does not pursue power or profit. He truly stands beyond the ordinary world.” Taizong sent a palace attendant to escort him to the Secretariat. Song Qi and the others asked, “Master, you understand the mysterious Way of quiet cultivation. Can you teach it to others?” Chen Tuan replied, “I live in seclusion in the mountains and have no use in worldly affairs. I do not understand the arts of cultivation, so I have nothing to teach. Even if one could truly ascend to heaven in broad daylight, what help would that be in governing the world? Your Majesty has an imposing presence and the bearing of a heavenly being. You understand the principles behind order and disorder from antiquity to the present, and are indeed a virtuous, benevolent, and enlightened ruler. Now ruler and ministers are united in governing the world and diligent in self-cultivation; nothing could be better.” Song Qi and the others submitted his words to the throne, and Taizong was greatly pleased when he read them.

When Chen Tuan entered court in response to a summons, he carried a document shaped like a crane and wore the plain clothes of a mountain recluse. Taizong admired his transcendent, worldly-detached bearing and honored him without binding him to the formal rites required of a subject. He arranged for him to stay at the Zhi Hall and summoned him to the Western Pure Hall. Without having to travel far to Xiangye in search of the Way, as the Yellow Emperor had done, Taizong naturally obtained a conversation like the Yellow Emperor’s inquiry into the Way with Guangchengzi on Mount Kongtong. As for the secrets of cultivation known as the Eight Su and Nine Zhen, and the wondrous methods called the Four Awakenings and Seven Records, outsiders could not know what Taizong and Chen Tuan discussed in private, speaking heart to heart.

Taizong ordered Chen Tuan to read the physiognomy of Zhenzong, who was then the Prince of Shou and the third of Taizong’s eight sons. Taizong had an attendant lead Chen Tuan to the eastern palace to meet the prince, but Chen Tuan returned before the prince had even risen to greet him. When Taizong asked why, Chen Tuan said, “The servants in the Prince of Shou’s household will one day all become ministers or generals. His future can be understood from this.” Those he had seen were Zhang Qi and Yang Chongxun, who later became chancellors, and Guo Chengyou, who became a grand marshal.

When Chen Tuan arrived at the palace gate in response to a summons, he heard that a scholar-official had come to his lodging hoping to hear a few words of wisdom as a guide for self-correction.

Chen Tuan said, “When you encounter something that fully satisfies you, do not go back for a second time. Do not linger in a place that makes you comfortable and reluctant to leave, and do not return to a place where you have had a triumph. You should understand the principle by now.” The people he was speaking about were Zhang Xiang Qiji, Yang Xiang Chongxun, and Grand Commandant Guo Chengyou. The Master had been summoned to court, and a group of scholar-officials came to visit him, hoping only to hear a few useful words to remind themselves. Chen Tuan then offered this advice. Everyone who heard it considered it a saying of profound wisdom. Shao Kangjie’s poem also says, “Treasure the good words of this great sage: gaining an advantage may mean losing something greater.”

When Emperor Taizong of Song had some free time, he climbed the Shu Jiao Tower with the Master and casually watched the streets below. They saw a wealthy man beneath the tower getting up to wash only after the sun had risen high. The emperor asked those beside him, “Whose household is that?” Someone replied, “Just one of the wealthy families of Dongjing.” The emperor then recited a poem: “While no one else has yet risen, I have long been awake; rising early, I carry all the world’s affairs on my mind. I envy the wealthy men of Dongjing, who sleep on until the sun stands high.”

The Master replied in verse: “Last night, at the third watch, I awoke with a start from a dream; at the sound of a bell, ten thousand people set to work. I suppose they are once again going to court to pay their respects at the Golden Gate, the imperial palace. I hold no official post, so I can sleep on until daylight.” Taizong was delighted when he read the Master’s reply. At court the next morning, he intended to appoint him as an Admonition Grand Master, an official responsible for remonstrating with the emperor. The Master firmly declined, and then composed “The Song of Leaving Office” and a quatrain.

The song goes: “The Dao lies in purity; the Dao lies in stillness. Within purity and stillness, seek uprightness and settled calm. Crave nothing, cling to nothing; let an entire lifetime pass according to fate. Do not be like the foolish and deluded, anxious and fearful all day long. The world laughs at me for not seeking office, yet holding office is one of life’s great afflictions. In a low post, one must submit to others’ control; in a high post, people come to curry favor and flatter. To Qin, then to Zheng, rushing east and west, twisting and turning like an earthworm on a string. A whole lifetime of a hundred years passes without rest. When I reckon it up, how could that compare with my own peaceful freedom? I take the moon for my lamp and flowing water for my mirror; I make a long-handled gourd my constant companion. Though no attendants support me when I come and go, a golden turtle walks beside me on the left, and a crane leads the way on the right.”

When the sun has just risen, I am already drunk, and remain unconscious for a long while. When I wake, my mind is always calm and clear. I take the moon for a lamp, the water’s surface for a mirror, and carry a long-handled gourd as my traveling vessel. Though no one supports me when I come and go, a golden tortoise accompanies me on the left, and an immortal crane guides me on the right. At sunrise, I collapse drunk and do not wake for a long while; sometimes a heavenly edict summons me away. When people see me writing poems, they think them merely laughable. In my heart, however, I see another world.

Another poem says: I live on primordial Qi (the original energy of Heaven and Earth, in Daoist thought), and wear clothes woven from grasses and trees. I have little to do in daily life, and seldom go down from the mountain. I do not harm the livelihoods of the Weaving Maiden or the farmers, yet others still gossip and judge me.

When Emperor Taizong saw that the Master firmly refused office and its salary, he asked, “If you have a good plan for bringing order to the realm and helping the people, you may stay.” Master Xiyi replied, “Since childhood, I have admired the Dao. As an adult, I traveled through mountains and forests, keeping my heart detached and quietly contemplating the Dao’s mysteries. As for plans to govern the realm, I have had no time to learn about them. I love sleeping very much. It would be wonderful if you would let me return to the mountains.” He then wrote a poem called “Lament on Resigning and the Ways of the World”:

The Southern Dipper and Northern Dipper turn ceaselessly across the night sky. The sun rises from Fusang, then sinks in the west. Human life is fleeting and insubstantial, like wild horses rushing past; the clamorous pursuit of fame and profit never ceases, noisy as parrots in a wine jar. Pine and bamboo flourish, their leaves still green in winter; peach and plum blossoms scatter in profusion, while the spring light gradually lulls the senses. See through the world of dust as a dream, and you can dwell in peace amid the depths of the white clouds.

Emperor Taizong said, “I summoned you because I hoped you would harmonize Yin-Yang, put the court in order, stabilize the state, and help the people. I did not expect you to speak only of mountain pleasures and think of nothing but sleep. Can there truly be wisdom in this?” The Master replied, “Indeed.” He then presented a poem called “Song of Sleep”:

I love sleep, I love sleep. I spread no felt mat and cover myself with no blanket. I use a stone for a pillow and spread my rain cape on the ground. I can lie down facing north or south, and wherever I happen to be, east or west, I sleep. Thunder roars and lightning flashes; Mount Tai collapses, and waters ten thousand fathoms deep pour down. The black dragon roars and spirits are terrified, yet when I am tired, I sleep on, snoring. In my leisure, I think of Zhang Liang; when troubled, I think of Fan Li. Do not speak of Cao Cao, and there is no need to discuss Liu Bei. Those few gentlemen were only squabbling over small matters, each nursing his pride for the moment.

The Master said, “What could compare with being on Clear Wind Ridge, among the white clouds, relaxing my brow and letting my body rest, then sleeping peacefully? Why should I care that the sun is setting?”

Later, he recited these lines: “Ask what brings the greatest comfort in this world: nothing compares with rising early in the morning and going to bed early at night. The weeds before my hermitage grow thick, just right for weaving into clothes. When I am hungry, I eat pine nuts and seeds from the parasol tree, and am often full. If the rocks trip me, I cannot get back up, and sleep on until daybreak. People say I am foolish and daft. I think so myself, but because of it I have no worries.”

When the Master first settled in the mountains, it was during the Xian’de era of the Later Zhou. Someone went looking for his dwelling and peered through a crack in the door. Inside, all was silent; the only signs of life were animal tracks and birdsong. Later, a woodcutter found a body at the foot of the mountain, covered in dust. On closer inspection, it was the Master. The woodcutter felt his chest and found it was still warm. After a long while, the Master’s breath returned, and he sat up, saying, “I was sleeping so soundly. Why did you come disturb me?”

Luo Yanwei, the regional governor, reported the matter to the court. Emperor Taizong knew the Master firmly refused to serve as an official and wanted him to return to the mountains. The emperor ordered craftsmen to gather all kinds of goods before the Jade Gate, then had people sing loudly and make a great commotion, displaying the empire’s wealth to the people. He invited the Master to climb to a high place and said, “Look how prosperous and wealthy the capital is. How can you bear to leave me and return to the mountains instead of helping me govern the realm?”

The Master replied, “Birds and beasts dwell in the mountains and forests; fish and turtles swim in rivers and lakes. Each has its own pleasure.” Taizong pointed to the crowd below and asked, “Do you see them?” The Master said, “I do.” The emperor asked again, “What do you see?” He replied, “I see the rich clinging to life, while the poor scramble to stay alive.” Taizong fell silent. After a while, he came down from the Jade Gate and returned to the hall.

The emperor summoned the Master inside, but he continued to insist on returning to the mountains. Taizong earnestly asked him to explain how to govern the realm and bring peace to the people. The Master had no choice but to take up brush and paper and write the four characters “far and near, light and heavy.” The emperor did not understand what they meant. The Master explained, “Far…”

The emperor did not understand what Mr. Chen meant. The master explained: “By ‘distant,’ I mean drawing worthy people from far away; by ‘near,’ I mean sending away the treacherous and sycophantic ministers at your side; by ‘light,’ I mean easing the people’s taxes; and by ‘weighty,’ I mean rewarding the three armies generously.” The emperor was delighted when he heard this.

Knowing that Mr. Chen was resolved to return to the mountains and could not be persuaded to stay, the emperor held a banquet in a side hall and ordered the chancellor and the officials of the Two Offices—the senior civil and military officials serving in the capital—to attend and compose poems in farewell. He also issued an edict directing Wang Zuo, the governor of Huazhou, to visit and pay his respects regularly, so that no courtesy would be neglected. As a result, people throughout the realm, whether worthy or ordinary, admired Mr. Chen when they heard of his reputation. Those who wished to bring a staff and other customary gifts and become his disciples were too numerous to count.

Before leaving the capital, Mr. Chen wrote “Poem on Leaving the Court”:

“For ten years my footsteps have wandered through the dusty world; only because I often dreamed of green mountains did I remember to return. However much one strives for splendor on the capital’s broad avenues, it cannot compare with sleeping peacefully in the mountains. Though grand houses and lofty gates may bring honor, they are no match for the freedom of a simple life. I worry to hear the sound of weapons, while the ruler would rely on military force to rescue the imperiled; I am also weary of hearing flutes and pipes, which disturb the dreams of those sleeping in their cups. I take my old books and return to the place where I once lived in seclusion. Wildflowers and singing birds keep me company, and spring is just as it was before.”

Taizong tried as hard as he could to persuade Mr. Chen to return to the mountains, but in the end could not make him stay. He therefore bestowed gifts of tortoises, cranes, saddled horses, and other things. Mr. Chen firmly declined the other valuable gifts, accepting only tea and medicine. The emperor sent an envoy to convey him in a comfortable carriage, the kind used by the elderly and respected, to Yuntai Abbey on Mount Hua, and bestowed on him the title “Master Xiyi.” The edict read: “By imperial decree, Chen Tuan is granted this title. You are an eminent man of your age, renowned through successive dynasties as a man of profound understanding. You have admired the peaceful flourishing of our dynasty and come to pay your respects. Without an honored title, how could your noble character be made known? You are hereby granted the title Master Xiyi.”

At their parting, Mr. Chen left a quatrain:

“The heights of Mount Hua are my home; I step outside and ride the dawn wind through the open sky. No golden locks bar the halls and terraces; when I return, white clouds will of themselves veil them.”

In the early years of the Taiping Xingguo era, Taizong sent an envoy with a poem to summon Mr. Chen once more. The master declined and did not answer the summons. He also spoke privately about the Mandate of Heaven, believing that the one who had truly received it was Zhang Sheng.

The Master’s private account of the matter of the Heavenly Mandate actually dates to the reign of Emperor Zhenzong of the Song, whose honorific title was “Chapter Sage.” The emperor wrote a poem:

“You left the mountains during an earlier reign, then all word of you was lost. If you are now willing to accept my summons, I will grant you all three peaks of Mount Hua.”

In the end, the Master declined and did not come.

The emperor sent envoys to present the Master with two women, to attend to his daily needs and arrange his clothing. The Master declined and replied in verse:

“Your skin is like snow, your cheeks like jade; I thank the king for sending you here. This recluse will not dream of a secret tryst in the Wu Gorge. You have taken needless trouble, like a goddess descending to the Terrace of Yang, bringing clouds and rain.”

The poem uses “the dream of Wu Gorge” and “clouds and rain on the Terrace of Yang” as allusions to a lovers’ tryst.

Another account says that Emperor Xizong of the Tang bestowed on the Master the title “Recluse of Pure Emptiness” and sent him three palace women to sweep and serve him. The Master then composed this poem.

The imperial edict Emperor Taizong bestowed on Master Xiyi (Chen Tuan) reads:

“Chen Tuan, Daoist of Mount Hua, lives in seclusion among the people, yet his spirit is lodged beyond the world of dust. He cultivates a pure, vast and upright Qi, like the reclusive figure symbolized by the Shaowei star. He will not humble himself to serve princes and lords, but prefers to hold fast to his purpose in the mountains and forests. He takes pleasure in the peace under my rule and has lived to see me inherit the legacy of my predecessors. He has now journeyed a great distance and come for a time to the capital. I have asked him to stay ten days and have entertained him to the full.

“White clouds, after all, do not linger in the land of emperors, and noble titles can hardly detain those who have attained the Way. In former times, even the sage Emperor Yao allowed recluses such as Chao Fu and Xu You to remain outside the court. Though my virtue is slight, I hope to follow the example of the ancients. Lest anything be lacking in the mountains, I have ordered Wang Zuo, governor of Huazhou, to provide you with all you need. You have just returned to your old mountain, and spring has arrived. I think of your lofty and pure aspirations and hope that all is well with you. I write especially to send my greetings, trusting that you will understand. The spring chill persists; how have you been of late? I am sending someone with this letter, so I will say no more for now.”

The Edict Bestowing Tea and Silk says:

“An exhortation: Though I occupy the throne, and warfare has continued year after year, I have always kept the people foremost in my thoughts. Recently, the imperial retinue made a southern progress, and the regions south of the Yangtze came to submit. They repeatedly expressed their sincerity before the army and presented the court with local products. Since they have now submitted, I have ordered the withdrawal of the troops.”

The court praised Chen Tuan, known by the sobriquet Xiyi, a Daoist who had withdrawn to the mountains to cultivate the Dao, for having kept his distance from worldly affairs from an early age and lived beyond the secular world. A delegation from Jiangnan had come to pay its respects at court, repeatedly expressing its sincerity before the military camp and presenting local products to the court. Since it had already declared its submission, the court ordered its troops to withdraw.

The edict also said: “You left the world long ago and have found freedom in the mountains and forests, unmoved by favor or disgrace. You have kept this region under your protection and brought an end to its restless turmoil; this deserves commendation. The court therefore orders that gifts be bestowed upon you in recognition of your life of seclusion and cultivation. We now grant you several items. The region around Hetong has a mild climate, and Mount Hua, the Lotus Peak, is a place of spiritual power and outstanding people. You have mastered the methods of cultivation, and surely enjoy abundant blessings. From our seat at the palace window, we often gaze into the distance and think of you; you must already know this. The summer heat is intense—how have you been of late? This letter is only a brief greeting, so we shall write no more. We also grant you thirty bolts of fine white silk, ten catties of wax-faced tea, twenty catties of ground-paste tea, and twenty catties of Ya Mountain tea. You may collect them upon receipt of this edict.”

Once, while standing in his courtyard, the Master saw a golden figure holding a precious sword. It said to him, “Your cultivation of the Dao is complete; you should have a place where you can come to rest.” He considered that autumn was the season when all things draw inward and return to their proper places, and thought, “Perhaps I should withdraw to the west.” He was then over seventy years old. He went to Mount Hua, cleared away the brambles and weeds at the site of the old Yuntai Abbey, and built a dwelling there, fulfilling the words about a place where he could come to rest. He wrote fifty poems titled Parables of the Three Peaks.

At the time, a tiger in the area was eating people. When the Master arrived, he rebuked it and ordered it to leave. From then on, it no longer harmed anyone.

During the Yongxi era, the Master recited poems while gazing toward Immortal Palm Peak on Mount Hua. As he sat watching a waterfall, he pointed to an empty plot and said, “This is the former site of the North Pole. I once saw a divine being there at night, dressed in black and wearing a cap. In its palm was a message written in red cinnabar, which it showed me. It read: ‘A hall will be established here, corresponding to the Purple Tenuity Emperor’s palace.’” The Master explained, “‘Corresponding’ means that it came into being through Heaven and Earth; this is therefore where the Northern Dipper is located.” He then instructed his disciples to build a hall there.

Hou Can and Zhang Guan were about to sit the Presented Scholar examination and sought the Master’s advice. He said, “It would be better for the two of you, Hou and Zhang, to pass next year than this year.” That spring, they both failed the provincial examination. The following year, they both passed, just as the Master had said.

The first volume of the Taihua Xiyi zhi ends here.

The original form of the character “kou” is unclear; it seems to resemble “lu.”

Taihua Xiyi zhi, Lower Volume

Zhang Shengchu, courtesy name Neizhai, a Junior Court Gentleman and Administrator of Hezhong Prefecture, later concealed his name. The following year, he passed the civil service examinations, and events unfolded just as described earlier.

The first volume of the Taihua Xiyi zhi ends here.

The original form of the character “kou” is unclear; it seems to resemble “lu.”

The lower volume of the Taihua Xiyi zhi was compiled and supplemented by Zhang Xia, courtesy name Neizhai, a Junior Court Gentleman and Administrator of Hezhong Prefecture.

At first, Lord Zhang Zhongding (Zhang Yong, courtesy name Fuzi, posthumous title Zhongding) went to visit Chen Tunan of Mount Hua (Chen Tuan, known as Master Xiyi), hoping to live in seclusion there with him. Master Xiyi said, “I could not agree to this for just anyone. For someone like you, I would gladly share half my place. But you hold office, so it is not yet time to speak of withdrawing into seclusion. It is like a household whose home has caught fire and is waiting for you to put it out. How could you fail to hurry there?”

As Lord Zhang took his leave, he presented Master Xiyi with ten Xuanzhou brushes, a piece of Baiyuntai ink, and a local product from beside the plank road in Shu. Lord Zhang said, “I understand what you mean, Master. You are urging me to return to the turmoil of public life.” Master Xiyi replied, “Take care, take care.” After seeing Lord Zhang off, he said to his disciples, “This man is not moved by external things. If he succeeds, he will serve as a high minister; if he does not, he will still become a regional commander.” He then sent him this quatrain:

“Being summoned to court and taking up a post in Shu are ordinary affairs;

Even amid songs, dances, and feasts, someone is hurrying to put out a fire.

He asks to retire in Jinling and spend his old age in ease,

Yet still must worry as his hair grows gray at the temples.”

At first, Lord Zhang did not understand the poem. Later, when he was again appointed to govern western Shu, he was ordered to ride at speed through Huayin. With no time to meet Master Xiyi, he sent him a poem: “By nature I am dull, unwilling to dwell among mountain forests, springs, and rocks. I had just hoped to find a place of clear streams where I could settle you. Now I ride in haste toward Jiannan; looking back at the clouds over Mount Hua, I feel ashamed.”

Later, when Lord Zhang returned from western Shu, he wrote another poem: “Most people prize rank and splendor. When they saw me returning east, they lined the road to welcome me. I imagine the lofty recluse of Mount Hua must be laughing at me: I have lost my true nature and gained only an empty reputation.” In his later years, sores appeared at Lord Zhang’s temples and would not heal despite prolonged treatment. He asked to retire in Jinling, and eventually died of the sores at his temples. Master Xiyi’s words came true.

When Lord Qian Wenxi (Qian Ruoshui, posthumous title Wenxi) was young, he visited Master Xiyi and asked to enter the mountains to cultivate the Dao. Beside the brazier in the mountain retreat sat an old monk, wrapped in worn clothes with his eyes closed. Qian Ruoshui approached and bowed, but the monk only opened his eyes slightly. After a long while, Master Xiyi asked the monk, “What do you think of him?” The monk shook his head and said, “He does not have the bones for it.” Later, Master Xiyi said to Qian Ruoshui, “When I first saw your clear, pure expression and appearance, I thought you could study the way of the immortals. But this old monk says you lack the bones of an immortal; you can only become a high-ranking minister.”

Qian asked, “Who was that monk?” Xiyi replied, “He was the Daoist master known as the Hemp-Clad Adept.”

The Record of Things Heard and Seen gives another account. When Ruoshui was still a candidate preparing for the civil service examinations, he went to Mount Hua to pay a visit to Xiyi. Xiyi said, “You should come again tomorrow.” Ruoshui returned at the appointed time and saw an old monk seated with Xiyi beside a floor brazier. The monk studied Ruoshui closely and remained silent for a long while. Then, using iron fire tongs to write in the ashes, he wrote three characters: “Cannot do it.” After a pause, he said slowly, “He is someone who can withdraw at the height of the current.” Ruoshui took his leave, and Xiyi did not ask him to stay.

Later, Ruoshui passed the highest civil service examination and rose to become deputy commissioner of the Bureau of Military Affairs. At only forty, he resigned and retired. At first, Xiyi had thought Ruoshui possessed the bearing and bones of an immortal, but could not be sure of his fate. After the old monk examined him and wrote “Cannot do it,” Xiyi no longer tried to persuade him to stay. Yet Ruoshui’s ability to retire when his official career was at its peak meant he was not far from becoming an immortal. That monk was the Hemp-Clad Adept.

The reclusive scholar Li Qi of Huayang claimed that, during the Kaiyuan era of the Tang dynasty, few court officials had ever seen him. Lü Dongbin, a recluse from the Guanzhong region, was skilled in swordsmanship. Though hundreds of miles away, he could arrive in an instant, and so people considered him an immortal. He visited Xiyi’s retreat many times, exchanging poems with him like a friend. People at the time found this extraordinary. These accounts all appear in the old histories.

When Chen Yaozuo was governor of Huazhou, he went one day to pay a visit to Master Xiyi. They had only just sat down to talk when a Daoist entered directly and took a seat. He had a handsome, refined bearing and bright eyes, and looked like one of the immortals. Xiyi quickly rose and offered him the seat of honor. The two exchanged a few words about matters beyond the ordinary world. After a while, the Daoist took a date from a leopard-skin pouch and offered it to Chen Yaozuo. Chen declined, so Xiyi rose and ate it instead. Before long, the Daoist took his leave, and Xiyi saw him out to the entrance of the temple.

When the two had sat down again, Chen Yaozuo asked, “Who was that?” Xiyi replied, “That was Lü Dongbin.” Chen Yaozuo was astonished and immediately regretted what he had done.

Wang Shize of Qingyuan and others went together to pay their respects to the Master. Wang Shize disguised himself as a servant and bowed below the steps. The Master smiled, came down the steps, and said, “To slight another is, in truth, to slight oneself.” He invited Wang Shize to sit at the head of the students and said, “In time, you will surpass them all.” The following year, Wang Shize indeed came first in the examinations.

One day, the Master spoke of having once met the worthy Sun Junfang and the hermit Kang Pi. They told him that the Nine-Chambered Cliff on Mount Wudang was a suitable place for seclusion, so he went there to live.

After Censor Xu Zhongxuan left his post in Chengdu, he passed by the Master’s residence. The Master said to him, “Before long, you will again take up a post as a local official.” Not long afterward, Xu Zhongxuan was promoted to the position of Palace Attendant and appointed to govern Henan. When Yu Nian went to court to pay his respects to the emperor, he also sent a letter and gifts, asking the Master about good and ill fortune. The Master said to his disciple Jia Desheng, “Write back for me and tell the Palace Attendant that after he leaves this time, he will never again hold a local post.” Soon afterward, Xu Zhongxuan indeed died.

When Guo Hang was young, he lived in Huayin and once spent the night near a Daoist temple. In the middle of the night, the Master told him to hurry home. Guo Hang thought the road was too long and did not want to set out, so the Master accompanied him. After they had gone a mile or two, someone came running and shouting the news that Guo Hang’s mother had died. Only then did Guo Hang understand: the medicine the Master had left behind could save his mother, so he hurried home. When he arrived, his mother had indeed stopped breathing. After she took the medicine the Master had left, she eventually recovered.

A large gourd ladle hung on the wall of the meditation room. The Daoist Jia Xiufu wanted it but did not dare ask. Master Xiyi said to him, “You have come here with no other purpose; I suppose you want my ladle.” He then told an attendant to take it down and give it to him.

Shen Fang, whose courtesy name was Mingyi, lived in seclusion in Leopard Forest Valley on Mount Zhongnan. Hearing of Master Xiyi’s reputation, he went to pay him a visit. One day, the Master ordered the courtyard swept and said, “An honored guest is coming.” Mingyi duly arrived. He bowed in the courtyard dressed like a woodcutter, and Master Xiyi took him by the hand and drew him forward, saying, “How could you be a woodcutter?”

One day, Chen Tuan, known by the title Master Xiyi, had the courtyard swept, saying that an honored guest was coming. Sure enough, Li Mingyi, whose courtesy name was Fang, arrived. Like a woodcutter, he bowed beneath the courtyard trees. Chen Tuan drew him inside and said, “You are no woodcutter. One day you will hold high office, and your name will be known throughout the land.”

Li Mingyi replied, “I came seeking the Dao and its principles. Official rank and salary are not what concern me.” Chen Tuan smiled and said, “A person’s status, high or low, is already determined. Your features show nobility. Even if you withdraw to the mountains and forests, I doubt you will be content to remain there for long. In time, you will understand.”

Later, Emperor Zhenzong of the Song summoned Li Mingyi to court and appointed him Reminder to the Throne. The emperor took him by the hand and led him up to the Dragon Diagram Pavilion, where they discussed affairs of state. After Li Mingyi resigned and returned to the mountains, he was again appointed Grand Master of Remonstrance, and later reassigned as Vice Minister of Works.

Chen Tuan also told Li Mingyi, “If you do not marry, you can live to a moderate age.” Li Mingyi followed his advice and died at the age of sixty.

Earlier, Chen Tuan had used divination to determine the site of Li Mingyi’s ancestral grave, choosing a place below Leopard Forest Valley. But when the burial took place, the grave was not set at the location he had selected. Seeing this, Chen Tuan said, “This place was excellent to begin with; the grave is simply a little too far back. Had it been placed where I first chose, distinguished generals would have arisen in every generation of your descendants.” Li Mingyi never married and had no sons. Yet from his nephew Li Heng onward, members of the family continued to become renowned as military commanders.

After Chen Tuan died, Li Mingyi erected a stele for his uncle, praising Master Xiyi’s learning. The inscription read: “The ways of emperors, kings, sovereigns, and overlords … Master Xiyi had far-reaching insight. He once earnestly warned me: ‘In the future, you will meet a worthy and enlightened ruler. You need not deliberately seek fame; your reputation will reach the court and spread throughout the land. Fame is a precious thing in this world, yet the master of creation is wary of it. Between Heaven and Earth, no reputation is entirely without flaw. When your fame begins to rise, something will inevitably damage it. You should take this as a warning.’”

In his later years, however, Li Mingyi became excessively devoted to luxurious adornment and acquired extensive estates around Feng and Hao. His disciples and relatives also used their influence to seize property, and their annual income grew ever larger. As a result, he lost his reputation for integrity. At the time, Wang Sizong was the chief official of the Jingzhao prefecture. Once, while drunk, he slighted and insulted Li Mingyi, then reported the incident to the court. An amnesty was declared just then, and the matter was not pursued further.

One day in the eighth year of the Xiangfu era (1015), Li Mingyi rose from his mountain retreat to change clothes and called his students together for a banquet. He brought out all the writings he had composed over his lifetime and the medicines he had collected, and burned them all. After several rounds of wine, he died. His biography describes him as a remarkable man.

Master Xiyi (Chen Tuan, whose courtesy name was Xiyi) enjoyed studying the Book of Changes and taught the study of images and numbers to Mu Xiu Bochang. Mu Xiu passed it on to Li Zhicai Tingzhi, who in turn passed it on to Kangjie Shao Yaofu. The text then mentions a man named Wen Yao, who burned all the related books and died after several rounds of drinking. It describes him as an unusual figure as well.

Master Xiyi also taught the study of images and numbers to Mu Xiu Bochang. Mu Xiu passed it on to Li Zhicai Tingzhi, and Li Zhicai to Kangjie Shao Yaofu. Shao Yaofu passed on the “images” to Shen Fang, who taught them to Xu Jian of Lujiang. Xu Jian then passed them to Yi Kua Chang, and so this branch of learning spread to the south. People often regard Master Xiyi merely as an immortal skilled at recognizing people and judging their character. This is not to truly understand him.

One day, the Master suddenly said to his disciple Jia Desheng, “A distinguished guest will come today. Be sure to tell me at once.” A little later, a man wearing a coarse-cloth jacket and a blue headscarf knocked at the door. Before Jia Desheng could announce him, the man abruptly departed. The Master immediately went out after him. After pursuing him for more than a mile, he met an old man dressed in deer hide and asked, “Has the man ahead gone far?” The old man replied, “That was the immortal Li Bachi. Once he sets out, he can travel eight hundred li.” The Master then recognized the deer-hide-clad old man as the realized Taiping White Deer Master. Li Bachi was already beyond pursuit, and the deer-hide-clad old man had vanished as well.

Master Xiyi said, “I cannot remain in this world much longer.” In the early years of the Duangong era under Emperor Taizong of Song, he told his disciples, “After the Zhongyuan Festival next year, I will go to Mount Emei. You must keep lamps burning day and night in the stone chamber.” His disciples respectfully received his written instructions and charge, choking back tears. The Master said, “Do not show your grief, lest you disturb my transformation through cultivation.” Here, “transformation” refers to the Daoist practitioner’s passing from the world and the transformation of body and spirit.

Before his death, the Master drafted a memorial to the throne, but no one saw what it contained. He had his disciple Jia Desheng take the tortoise, crane, and blue-maned horse bestowed on him by the emperor and present them at court. The emperor read the memorial alone for a long time. He then returned the gifts to Jia Desheng, bestowed on him a purple official robe, and granted him the title “Master Who Realizes the Truth.”

In the early years of the Duangong era, Master Xiyi instructed Jia Desheng: “You may quarry the rock at Zhangchao Valley and build a stone chamber there.” The text continues with “In the second year, the seventh…” and ends here.

The emperor read the document alone for a long time. He returned to De Sheng the items others had presented to him and granted him additional purple Daoist robes, conferring on him the title “Master of Awakening to Truth.” In the early years of the Duangong era, Xiyi instructed De Sheng: “You may cut into the rock at Zhangchao Valley and build a stone chamber.”

In the seventh month of the second year of Duangong, the stone chamber was complete. Delighted, the Master mounted his horse and set out straight for Zhangchao Valley. When he reached the area around Panshi and Xiaowan, he dismounted and continued on foot, climbing forward by holding on to vines. He arrived at the stone chamber at dusk. Laughing aloud several times, he said to his disciples, “The cliffs face Mount Taihua. The mountain air is clear and the scenery beautiful. This is likely where I will come to rest.”

He then wrote a memorial of several hundred characters, whose general meaning was: “The span of human life must eventually end; it is hard to remain for long in this enlightened age. I will pass away on the twenty-second of this month in Zhangchao Valley, beneath Lotus Peak.” When the day came, he lit lamps and candles. That night, he ordered them extinguished and told his disciples to rest. At dawn, he died with his left hand supporting his chin, at the age of one hundred and eighteen. Seven days later, his limbs and body were still warm. Clouds in five colors shrouded the mouth of the cave and did not disperse for many days.

Later, a palace envoy arrived at Mount Emei. A visitor came to see him, dressed in splendid robes and finery, and introduced himself as “Dongming Zhuanxiang.” He spoke at length about Mount Hua. Only afterward did the envoy recognize him as Master Chen of Mount Hua. He hurriedly sent people to summon him, but no one knew where he had gone. Master Chen called himself “Fuyiaozi.” His disciples, along with the eminent and cultured people who had come with him, recorded these events and passed down the old stories of Mount Hua to encourage later students.

Master Huian says in the Outline of the Comprehensive Mirror: Zhou Shizong summoned Chen Tuan, who lived in seclusion on Mount Hua, and asked him about the arts of ascending to immortality and refining gold and silver through alchemy. Chen Tuan replied, “Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven; governing the realm should be your foremost concern. Why study such things?” The emperor then let him return to the mountain and issued an edict instructing the prefectural and county officials to inquire after him regularly.

Mr. Hu commented: Chen Tuan’s learning and aspirations lay beyond Zhou Shizong’s understanding. For Zhou Shizong to ask him about ascending to immortality and the arts of refining gold was a sign of limited insight. Chen Tuan’s reply, centered on governing the realm, had already pointed to the way of statecraft, yet Zhou Shizong did not go on to seek his counsel. The Master cleared the wilderness and built a dwelling at Shangfang.

During the Taiping Xingguo era, Emperor Taizong of Song repeatedly issued edicts granting poems he had composed and summoned Chen Tuan, whose Daoist name was Master Xiyi, to court. Later, the court ordered officials to enlarge his place of retreat and provided funds from the imperial treasury to build an altar hall. Only then did it reach the scale seen today.

The Master wrote the eighty chapters of The Treatise on Pointing to the Mysterious and fifty poems titled Poems on Returning the Elixir in the Inner Chamber. He also composed The Collection from the Fishing Pool, which runs to more than ten thousand words. These works explain in detail the mysteries of the Dao and encompass the principles of ultimate truth. Their language is concise and their reasoning profound, enabling readers to gain insight from them.

The Master guided and awakened the emperor’s understanding, while quietly assisting the court in planning for the long term. Taizong once intended to appoint him Grand Master for Remonstrance, an official responsible for advising the emperor. The Master earnestly declined, and the appointment was never issued. He died at about 118 years of age. He said that he could infer what was about to happen, foresee the future, see into the past, and investigate subtle and mysterious principles—matters almost beyond comprehension. Yet he never spoke of displaying extraordinary powers or miraculous signs.

The Master’s Daoist attainment was therefore vast and profound, and difficult to fathom fully. Still, people of every character and station, upon hearing of his reputation, admired and revered him. After his death, his disciple’s great-grandson, Master Wu, under the guidance of Lord Fan Wenzheng, obtained the Poems on Returning the Elixir in the Inner Chamber from the Ningzhen Monastery in the capital, the Parables of the Three Peaks from the reclusive scholar Li Ning on Mount Taihua, The Treatise on Pointing to the Mysterious from Zhang Wumeng at Chicheng, and The Collection from the Fishing Pool from the successful candidate Zhang Zhongyong. Together, these manuscripts comprised more than three hundred pieces. Master Wu then compiled the Master’s biography and collected works, including them in Essentials of Nourishing Life and Methods of Li the Perfected for Taking Nourishing Substances, a work on dietary practices for health and longevity.

The emperor bestowed a poem that said: “The Great Dao’s returned Elixir lies within oneself; the embryo spirit and the Palace of the Moon appear in autumn. Who can discern the hidden signs of the three numinous powers—Heaven, Earth, and Humanity? The physical form and the Dao of pure emptiness both arise naturally.” The emperor also bestowed a seal-script inscription reading “Hall of Illumination,” as well as the two characters “purity and stillness” written in flying-white script, a style with freely extended, sweeping strokes.

When Emperor Zhenzong was performing sacrifices at Fenyin, he once stayed in Huayin and also visited Mount Yuntai. There he viewed the portrait left behind by Master Chen Tuan and stood gazing at it for a long time. He ordered that the land rent owed by Chen Tuan’s Daoist temple be waived, then summoned the Daoist priests Wu Zihua and others and bestowed purple robes upon them.

Zhang Fangping traveled between Qin and Shu. After respectfully paying homage to the divine images, he also went to pay his respects to the portrait of Chen Tuan, whose courtesy name was Xiyi. He praised the way of the immortals, saying, “The spirit is wondrous beyond measure, and the Dao is present everywhere. What we call ‘spirit’ describes the mysterious transformations of all things. Because the spirit is wondrous beyond measure, one can arrive swiftly without hurrying and reach one’s destination without walking. Only those who quietly unite with the Dao may be called perfected beings. Only by attaining this state can one transcend life and death and exhaust the possibilities of transformation.”

He also said that Chen Tuan had explained the root of the ebb and flow of the One Qi and the workings of the Four Symbols’ natural transformations. He had pointed out mysterious principles in writing that was profound yet lucid, and had set them down in completed works. Was his dwelling place really no more than a place where he kept company with deer and lived among plants, trees, mountains, and rocks? Master Chen had an unusual appearance, with prominent brows and eyes, square pupils, and a clear voice. He understood the learning of the various schools and could discern what was hidden and subtle. His Dao was too profound to fathom, and his transformations were beyond prediction. It seemed he would ride clouds and Qi, journeying on the sun and moon beyond the four seas. How could he be compared with those who feigned eccentricity and prized deceit in order to mislead the age and win acclaim?

Shen Fang was summoned as a recluse and appointed to the post of remonstrance official. Emperor Zhenzong treated him with exceptional courtesy, and he consequently became famous throughout the realm. Later, he asked to return to Mount Zhongnan. Relying on the emperor’s favor, he became extremely arrogant. When Wang Sizong was prefect of Chang’an, Shen Fang arrived, and all the officials from the assistant prefect downward went in a group to pay him a visit. Shen Fang merely lowered his head slightly and answered them with his hands at his sides. Wang Sizong was displeased. Later, when Shen Fang called Wang’s nephew out to offer a greeting, Wang Sizong accepted the bow while seated.

Fang angrily rebuked Sizuong, saying, “In the past, when officials below the rank of vice prefect came to pay you a visit, you would still rise and help them up. They were merely commoners by birth. I, Sizuong, have passed the palace examination as its top graduate, and my reputation and rank are far from low. Why should I not remain seated and receive your visit?” Fang replied, “You became the top graduate only by fighting with your hands. What is there to praise?” Sizuong was furious when he heard this and submitted an impeachment against Fang.

In his memorial, Sizuong said that Fang’s talent and understanding were no better than anyone else’s; he merely resorted to deliberate deception and stole a false reputation. His Majesty respected and treated him with honor, and even promoted him to an important post. This, Sizuong warned, might invite mockery from people throughout the realm and encourage a shallow, fraudulent style of conduct. His Majesty had once summoned Wei Ye, but Wei Ye had shut his gate and avoided him. Fang, by contrast, secretly cultivated ties with powerful nobles in hopes of recommending himself for promotion. Sizuong also cited several things Fang had done in secret, using Fu Zhi as his source. The emperor did not pursue the matter against either man, but his favor toward Fang gradually waned.

Zhong Fang had a country retreat on Mount Zhongnan, and many people later came to study with him. He loved wine, and personally farmed, planted trees, and made wine from what he produced. The woods and springs around his home were beautiful, and the setting was exceptionally secluded. When Emperor Zhenzong heard of it, he sent court messengers with a painter to depict the scenery. Once the painting was finished, the emperor unrolled it and invited his ministers to admire it with him, repeatedly praising what he saw.

Later, Wei Ye of Gantang also lived in a place of great scenic beauty. The emperor sent someone to paint his residence, and Wei Ye wrote a poem about it: “Mu Xiu, style name Bolong, was a native of Wenyang. He later lived in Caizhou and became a student of Tu Nan.” In his youth, Mu Xiu was high-spirited, but narrow in temperament and not much given to company; he often traveled around the capital. Someone once copied his verses onto a palace wall. After reading them, Emperor Zhenzong greatly admired them and asked his attendants, “Who wrote these poems?” Someone replied that they were Mu Xiu’s. The emperor said, “His writing is so fine. Why have the ministers not recommended him?” Ding Jingong, who was standing nearby, said, “This man’s conduct does not match his words.” After that, the emperor made no further inquiries.

Bolong and Ding Jingong had been old friends before either entered official service. Ding Jingong once went to Kuizhou to serve as regional transport commissioner. Bolong had not yet entered office, and the two met near the Han River. Ding Jingong expected Bolong to bow to him first, but Bolong never made a bow; instead, he turned and walked away.

Duke Jin resented him and often spoke ill of him before the emperor. Later, when Duke Jin was demoted to Zhuyai, he passed through Daozhou. Bochang wrote a poem saying, “How astonishing that Emperor Shun’s criminal policy should have gone so awry! What crime did the Four Fiends commit, that they should no longer be exiled?” This shows that the two men were on bad terms.

In the second year of the Xiangfu era, Bochang passed the jinshi examination in the same cohort overseen by Liang Gu. He was appointed assistant judicial officer in Haizhou and later promoted to assistant prefect, but then his name was struck from the official rolls and he was banished to Chizhou. His collected poems include “Meeting at Qiupu,” which gives a detailed account of these events. After receiving an amnesty, he was appointed literary aide in Yingzhou, and people of the time called him “Military Aide Mu.”

As he grew older, his poverty deepened. His family owned Tang-dynasty printed editions of the collected works of Han Yu and Liu Zongyuan. He asked friends and relatives for help, raised enough money to hire workers to carve printing blocks, and produced several hundred copies. He took them to the capital and set up a stall at the Xiangguo Temple market. Bochang sat beside the stall. When a few scholars came over to leaf through the books, he snatched them back and glared at the men, saying, “If any of you can read an entire essay without misreading a single character, I’ll give you a copy.” For years afterward, he could not sell them.

At the time, scholars were focused on learning regulated verse and poetic forms, and did not yet understand the value of ancient prose. Bochang was the first to champion ancient prose. Later, the brothers Yin Yuan, courtesy name Zijian, and Mu Xiu, courtesy name Shilu, began studying it under him.

Bochang also passed on his learning of the Spring and Autumn Annals to Li Zhizai. Li Zhizai, courtesy name Tingzhi, was from Qingzhou. He was uninhibited and unconventional, and took Bochang as his teacher. Bochang was stern and irritable, and would scold people whenever things did not go his way. Tingzhi, however, was always respectful and compliant, serving him as he would an elder brother or father, and never growing weary of it. After Li Zhizai passed the jinshi examination, he became an administrative aide in Mengzhou. He was forthright and unconstrained by formalities, so the prefect, Duke Fan Zhongxian, took a strong dislike to him. Even so, Li continued to conduct himself as he pleased.

Later, when Lord Zhongxian was transferred to govern Yan’an, Fan Tingzhi accompanied him as far as the outskirts to see him off. Most of the prefectural officials went with him beyond the borders of the prefecture, and some people criticized Fan Tingzhi for not doing so. Fan replied, “By the custom of seeing off a prefect in earlier times, accompanying him this far is already proper. Affection matters most when it accords with proper conduct. Lord Fan does not really know me. If I went beyond the border to see him off, that would be unreasonable. How could I treat Lord Fan in an unreasonable way?”

Not long afterward, Lord Zhongxian was demoted to prefect of Anlu and passed through Luoyang. Not one of his former subordinates from his time in Sancheng went to visit him; only Fan Tingzhi did. Lord Zhongxian praised him for this, and later came to value him.

Shao Yaofu’s son said: Fan Tingzhi once served as magistrate of Gongcheng County, which belonged to Weizhou. At that time, my late father Kangjie (Shao Yong, courtesy name Yaofu) was mourning his grandmother. He had built a dwelling above Baiyuan on Mount Sumen. Wearing plain clothes and eating coarse food, he observed mourning for three years and personally cooked for his grandfather. Hearing that my father was diligent in his studies, Fan Tingzhi went to visit him in person and asked what he was studying. My father replied, “I’m studying what is needed to sit the examinations and pursue official rank.”

Fan Tingzhi said, “Beyond the study of the examinations, there is the study of moral principles. Do you know about it?” My father replied, “I do not. I would be glad to learn.” Fan Tingzhi then asked, “Beyond the study of moral principles, there is the study of the underlying patterns of things. Do you know about it?” My father replied, “I do not. I would be glad to learn.” Fan Tingzhi continued, “Beyond the study of the patterns of things, there is the study of human nature and the Mandate of Heaven. Do you know about it?” My father again replied, “I do not. I would be glad to learn.” In this way, my father learned this body of knowledge from Fan Tingzhi.

Fan Tingzhi later became an Assistant Palace Censor and handled official business in the office of the prefectural judge in Zezhou. Liu Yisou of Zezhou entered his school later than the others and studied calendrical science, eventually becoming a renowned scholar. As for the study of the Changes, only my father received Fan Tingzhi’s transmission.

In his youth, Kangjie was proud of his talents and held great ambitions. Later, he devoted himself to learning and resolved to pursue knowledge of the highest order. He believed that he, too, could accomplish what the sage kings of antiquity had achieved.

As his learning deepened and he grew older, his character became finer, and his mind ever more open and clear. He observed the workings of Heaven and Earth and the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang, understood the principles behind the transformations of all things, and then followed nature, calmly returning to his proper place.

He lived in Luoyang for thirty years. At first, he stayed in a humble hut made of thatch, open to the wind on every side and unable to keep out the rain. He cooked for himself and cared for his parents, yet remained content and at ease. He taught at home without ever pressing anyone to attend, but those who came of their own accord to seek instruction grew more numerous day by day. His influence transformed the local community, and people near and far held him in respect. When scholars came to Luoyang, some would not visit the government offices first; they would make a point of calling on the Master at his home.

The Master’s character and bearing were sincere and generous. In conversation, he took benevolence, righteousness, loyalty, and trustworthiness as his guiding principles. He liked to praise others’ strengths and never spoke of their faults. Thus, virtuous people admired his character, while those whose virtue was lacking were also moved by his influence. He made great contributions to fostering honest customs and cultivating talent.

The Master’s learning came from Li Tingzhi, whose learning in turn came from Mu Bochang. Tracing this scholarly lineage, one finds a long history and a well-attested line of transmission. The Master’s learning was pure and focused, broad and profound; much of it also came from his own insight.

When the court summoned him to take office, he declined and wrote a poem in reply to the people of his home district: “In all my life, I have done nothing to make anyone frown; perhaps there is no one under Heaven who hates me bitterly. When blossoms fall, why blame the rain? When an old possession is adorned anew, why wait for spring? Fortunately, I have encountered a ruler as wise as Yao and Shun, so I shall let men like Chaofu and Xu You serve as recluses beyond the world. A sick man of sixty should keep to his proper place. The supervisory officials responsible for overseeing local administrators need not trouble themselves by urging me so earnestly.”

When Zhang Shizheng was fifty, his teeth had already begun to loosen. More than ten years later, Chen Hong’s teeth were still firm and as even as if cut with a knife. He had once obtained a medicinal formula. His uncle said that during the Tiansheng era, Yuanheng climbed to the summit of Mount Hua and came to the site of the old Mingxing Pavilion. Beneath it, he found a broken stele. The ancient inscription recorded a verse for treating the teeth and mouth and turning the beard black:

“Guess-ya, Chinese honey locust, and ginger; Western-country cimicifuga and Sichuan rehmannia; wood-rule, drought lotus, and pagoda-tree pods; asarum and lotus stem—the lotus stem means the heart of the lotus leaf. Use equal measures of all these herbs. Add an equal measure of green salt, burn them together to ash, then grind them into a fine powder. This is the best way to use them. Rub it on the teeth to make them firm and turn the beard and sideburns black. Who would have thought that such an immortal formula could exist in the world?”

This was the medicinal formula of Master Xiyi, Chen Tuan.

The recluse Wei Ye, styled Zhongxian, was from Shanzhou. He lived east of the city, where he built a thatched hut among clear waters and flourishing bamboo. He enjoyed playing the qin and writing poetry. Though he lived in poverty, he was widely learned and well known in his time. The prefects who served there, one after another, all held him in high regard.

When Emperor Zhenzong passed through Wei Ye’s residence on his way to make sacrifices at Fenyin, he saw from afar Wei Ye teaching cranes to dance beneath the pines. The emperor said, “I too shall go there,” and sent someone ahead to announce his arrival. As the messenger drew near, Wei Ye picked up his qin, led the cranes, and left by climbing over the courtyard wall. The emperor reached the mountain hut but did not find him, so he inscribed the door: “I came with Kou Zhun.” Later, the court sent someone to summon Wei Ye, but he pleaded illness and did not go.

Wei Ye wrote a poem praising Kou Zhun: “Most former chancellors did not hold office for long; only you have served in the Secretariat for fifteen years. The sacrifices at Mount Tai and Fen Yin are now complete. This time, you may accompany Red Pine to wander among the immortals.” Kou Zhun read it and looked pleased. In thanks, he sent Wei Ye wine, tea, and medicines.

The Plain Collection records that among the letters left by my late father were several copies of this poem, transcribed in Kou Zhun’s own hand. After reading it, Kou Zhun took the poem to heart and repeatedly pleaded illness to resign from office. Later, he was reassigned to other posts and was also given titles including Grand Commandant and Commissioner of the Jade Purity Palace of Response to Heaven.

The Anecdotes of Wang Wenzheng records that Wei Ye once told Kou Zhun, “Since ancient times, few people who have won great fame and honor have come to a good end.” He also wrote a poem advising Kou Zhun: “Bid farewell in good time to the riches of the celestial court; return to the level ground of the human world and become a carefree immortal.” Kou Zhun was later demoted, and only then regretted not following Wei Ye’s advice.

The Collected Sayings of Wen Gong records that Ye’s son was named Xian and, like his father, never entered official service. During the Huangyou era, the court bestowed on him the title “Recluse of Purity and Ease.” This is recorded in the Records of Returning to the Fields.

Someone cultivated on Mount Taihua and became an immortal. Only after Wen Gong was demoted did he regret not having heeded Ye’s advice. The Collected Sayings of Wen Gong records that Ye’s son was named Xian and, like his father, never entered official service. During the Huangyou era, the court bestowed on him the title “Recluse of Purity and Ease.” This is recorded in the Records of Returning to the Fields.

Chronicles of the Esoteric Master of Taihua, volume two.