《吕祖志》

Volume One of Records of Patriarch Lü: Accounts of His Deeds

This volume collects accounts relating to Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin), arranged under the following headings:

• Three Illustrations
• Biography of the Perfected One (Patriarch Lü’s biography), with “Ten Trials of the Perfected One at Yunfang’s Hands”
• The Perfected One’s Ten Questions for Yunfang
• The Perfected One’s Own Account
• The Perfected One’s Transformation of Scholar Lu: The Story of The World Within a Pillow
• Twenty-Two Accounts of Supernatural Powers and Transformations
• Sixteen Accounts of Name Changes and Manifestations
• Eight Visits to Confucian Scholars
• Ten Journeys to Temples and Monasteries
• Eight Accounts of Moving Among the Common People
• Seven Gatherings at Hermitages
• Seven Accounts of Relieving the People with Elixirs
• Four Encounters of Destiny

The table of contents of Records of Patriarch Lü also lists a section on literary works, containing Patriarch Lü’s poems and writings, including ancient-style poems, quatrains, regulated verse, miscellaneous writings, songs, and works such as “Fisherman’s Song,” “Dreaming of the South,” “Spring in a Garden of Qin,” and various songs.

The original table of contents repeats text after “Three Illustrations”; in preparing this edition, the duplicate passages have been combined. “Encounters of Destiny” is retained as it appears in the original.

The Biography of the Perfected Lü Yan records that Lü Yan, courtesy name Dongbin, was also known as Yankè; another account says his original name was Shaoxian. He was from Yongle County in Hezhong Prefecture during the Tang dynasty, though some accounts say he came from Puban or Hedong. His great-grandfather, Lü Yanzhi, rose to the post of military commissioner of eastern Zhejiang; his grandfather, Lü Wei, served as vice minister of rites; and his father, Lü Rang, once served as governor of Haizhou.

It is said that Lü Dongbin was born on the fourteenth day of the fourth month in the fourteenth year of the Zhenyuan era, during the hour of the Snake (between nine and eleven in the morning). When his mother went into labor, the room filled with a strange fragrance, celestial music sounded in the air, and a white crane flew down from the sky. It entered the bed curtains and then vanished.

He was born with an extraordinary appearance, combining the qualities of Metal and Wood and the bearing of a Daoist immortal. His biography describes his head as crane-like, his back as turtle-like, his build as tiger-like, and his cheeks as dragon-like. His brows and eyes were refined, his neck long and forehead broad, his frame well-proportioned, his nose high and straight, and his complexion yellowish-white. He had a black mole at the corner of his left eyebrow and another below his left eye, each about the size of a tendon knot. His overall appearance was said to resemble a gongcao emissary, a Daoist divine official responsible for clerical duties. Faint patterns resembling turtles could be seen on the soles of both feet.

As a child, he was bright and quick-witted, able to memorize ten thousand words a day and compose a piece of writing as soon as he began to speak. As an adult, he stood five chi and two cun tall. He liked to wear a Huayang headscarf, the kind worn by Daoists, a yellow-white lan robe, and a broad black sash. His appearance was said to resemble Zhang Zifang (Zhang Liang). At twenty, he was still unmarried.

When Lü Dongbin was still an infant in swaddling clothes, Mazu, a Daoist figure mentioned in his biography, saw him and said, “This child has extraordinary bones and features. He is destined to transcend the world of dust. In the future, when you encounter ‘Lu,’ make it your home; when you see ‘Zhong,’ strike it. Remember these words.”

Later, he traveled to Mount Lu, where he met the Perfected Fire Dragon and learned the Celestial Escape Sword Method, a sword art from Daoist legend. Afterward, he moved among ordinary people and made his living by selling calligraphy, taking the name Chunyangzi. The biography says he passed the jinshi examination during the Xiantong era. Another account places this in the Kaicheng era, when he was sixty-four. A further version says he began seeking the Dao at fifty. Believing that the cycle of the sixty-four hexagrams had run its course, he began again from the Qian hexagram; this, the account says, explains the name “Pure Yang.”

Later, while traveling in Chang’an, he met a Daoist in a wine shop. The man wore a blue headcloth and a white robe, had a long beard and bright eyes, carried a staff decorated with purple, and wore a large gourd at his waist. He wrote three quatrains on the wall. The first read:

“Whether sitting or lying down, I always keep a pot of wine close;

I do not let my eyes linger on the splendor of the imperial capital.

Though Heaven and Earth are vast, I leave no name behind;

Among the carefree and unrestrained, I am simply one man.”

The meaning is that he always kept a pot of wine with him, whether sitting or lying down, and did not let his eyes dwell on the imperial capital’s splendor. Though Heaven and Earth were vast, he left no name behind, choosing instead to be a free-spirited man among carefree people.

The second man called himself a “True Immortal who has attained the Dao.” A large gourd hung at his waist. He wrote three poems on the wall.

The first said: “Whether sitting or lying down, I am always with a pot of wine; I keep my eyes from the splendor of the capital. Though Heaven and Earth are vast, I have neither name nor surname. I am simply an easygoing, carefree man among the crowd.”

The second said: “One who has attained the Dao and become an immortal is hard to meet. I do not know when I might return, but I would gladly follow him on his journey. He says he lives where the land meets the sea, beyond the first peak of Penglai, the legendary immortal mountain in the sea.”

The third said: “Do not grow weary of seeking pleasure again and again, laughing and drinking together. Think of the upheavals and disorder in the world; they truly weigh upon the heart. Count the years on your fingers: how many days of genuine peace has the world known?”

Seeing the man’s imposing, rugged appearance and the unrestrained spirit of his poems, Lü Dongbin clasped his hands and asked his name. The Daoist said, “My surname is Zhongli, my given name is Quan, and my courtesy name is Yunfang.” Lü Dongbin bowed again and invited him to sit. The stranger said, “Write me a quatrain of your own.” Lü Dongbin took up his brush and, without pausing, wrote these twenty-eight characters:

“Born to a Confucian family in an age of peace,

The office hat weighs heavy; common clothes sit light.

Who would contend for fame and profit in this world?

I would serve the Jade Emperor and return to Shangqing.”

The poem meant: “I was born into a Confucian family and happened upon an age of peace. The official hat and rank are a heavy burden; it is easier to live as a commoner. Who would want to contend for fame and profit in this world? I would rather serve the Jade Emperor and return to Shangqing, the Daoist realm of immortals.”

The stranger read the poem and was delighted. “I live on Crane Ridge in Zhongnan Mountain. Would you like to come with me?” Lü Dongbin followed Yunfang to an inn to rest. Yunfang got up to prepare a meal. Lü Dongbin suddenly grew drowsy; before he could find a pillow, he leaned his head on the table and fell asleep.

In his dream, Lü Dongbin went to the capital as a candidate for the civil service examinations and came first in the highest examination. Beginning as a minor official in a prefecture, he rose through the ranks and served in the Censorate, the Secretariat, the Hanlin Academy, the Imperial Library, and the ministries. He held nearly every prestigious and influential post at court. Throughout his life, he was repeatedly promoted and demoted, then promoted again. He married two women from wealthy families, one after the other; his children’s marriages were long since settled, and his grandchildren and grandchildren through his daughters flourished. The whole family was filled with officials and dignitaries. This life continued for nearly forty years. In the end, he served alone as prime minister for ten years, wielding immense power.

Suddenly, he was convicted of a grave crime. His property was confiscated, his wife and children were scattered, and he himself was exiled to Lingnan. In an instant, he was left entirely alone, destitute and worn down. He sat on horseback amid wind and snow, lamenting all that had happened.

Lü Dongbin suddenly awoke from his dream and found Yunfang—Zhongli Quan, his master in the legends of Lü Dongbin—beside him. The yellow millet in the pot had not yet finished cooking. Yunfang smiled and said, “The millet isn’t cooked yet, but you have already lived an entire lifetime in your dream.” Dongbin asked in surprise, “Master, do you know what I dreamed?”

Yunfang said, “The life you just dreamed of was full of ups and downs, prosperity and decline. Fifty years passed in the space of a moment. There is no need to rejoice when you gain something, nor to grieve when you lose it. Only through deeper awakening can one understand that all the affairs of this world are like a great dream.” Deeply moved, Dongbin lamented that he should not remain attached to a career in government. He bowed to Yunfang and said, “Master, you are no ordinary person. I wish to take you as my teacher and ask you to guide me beyond the world.”

Yunfang deliberately replied, “Your body and constitution are not yet mature, and your resolve and conduct are not yet sufficient. If you wish to transcend the world, you will have to live through several more lifetimes.” Then he drifted away. Dongbin was deeply disappointed, so he gave up his official post and withdrew from public life. After that, Yunfang tested him many times, and Dongbin passed every test.

One day, Yunfang suddenly appeared, clapping his hands and laughing. He said to Dongbin, “It is difficult to rid oneself of worldly attachments, and rare to find someone with the aptitude for becoming an immortal. Finding a suitable disciple takes me more effort than it takes others to ask me to accept them as pupils. I have tested you ten times, and you have passed every test. You are certain to attain the Dao. But your accumulated merit is not yet complete. I will now teach you the secret method for refining gold and silver, known as the ‘Yellow and White Art,’ so that you can aid people and bring benefit to all things. When you have accumulated three thousand merits and completed eight hundred good deeds, I will return to guide you.”

Dongbin asked, “Will the gold and silver refined by this secret method change?” Yunfang replied, “After three thousand years, they will return to their original substance.” Dongbin said anxiously, “If it takes three thousand years to return to its original state, people will not be willing to accept it.” Yunfang smiled and said, “Your concern for others already embodies all three thousand merits and eight hundred good deeds.”

He once told Uncle Dongbin how he had attained the Dao. “Long ago, I met the True Lord of Bitter Bamboo, a revered Daoist deity. He said to me, ‘When you go traveling this time, if you meet someone whose name contains two characters for “mouth,” that person will be your disciple.’ After that, I traveled across mountains, rivers, and the coast, but never met anyone like that. Now that I look closely at your surname, I see that the True Lord of Bitter Bamboo’s words have indeed come true.”

He then asked, “Would you like to travel with me?” Dongbin followed him to Crane Ridge, where they saw a small grotto beneath the mingled light of stars and moon, all around them utterly still. Yunfang took Dongbin by the hand, and after they had walked only a few steps, it seemed in a daze as though they were galloping over mountains and rivers. In an instant, they had reached the southern entrance to the grotto. Its doors were tightly shut and thick with dust. Yunfang fastened a blue-green silk ribbon around Dongbin’s waist, and the two entered through a crack in the door. At once, the space inside opened out before them.

They climbed a high peak and came to the entrance of a vast grotto. Two tigers crouched on guard before the gate. Yunfang shouted at them, and they lay motionless on the ground, so he led Dongbin inside. There they saw golden towers and jade terraces, rare birds and unusual trees. The scenery shone brilliantly, and the climate was as warm as spring. The two sat on a great stone and drank three cups of Yuanhe wine, a kind of Daoist immortal wine. They had not finished discussing the Dao when a messenger in blue robes suddenly arrived. Gold ornaments were set into his double topknot; he wore red garments with green sleeves and cloud-patterned shoes, and jade ornaments hung from his person. Fragrance swirled around him. Holding a seal and documents, along with an edict written in gold characters, he announced, “The immortals have assembled at the Upper Palace of Penglai. Please come to the Celestial Pool for a gathering to discuss the record of the Five Primordial Perfected Ones’ spiritual journeys.”

As Yunfang prepared to leave, Dongbin sent him off with a poem:

“After attaining the Dao, it is not easy to meet again.

I hear that you are heading east; may I be fortunate enough to visit the immortal altar?

Your staff seems to carry the colors of spring; in your gourd, a flask of wine.

You wear the Five Peaks crown, its summit adorned with cloud patterns.

The turtle that drinks the sea goes unrecognized by ordinary people;

the talismans that burn mountains are hard for spirits and ghosts to see.

After you leave, I fear I shall grow old.

Grant this poor scholar an Elixir of Bone Transformation.”

Dongbin feared that Yunfang would not return. Yunfang said, “Just stay here. I’ll be back shortly.” Then he turned toward the southeast and departed, riding on a purple cloud.

Yunfang said to Dongbin, “Stay here for a while. I’ll be back shortly.” With that, he rode a purple cloud toward the southeast and drifted slowly away.

Dongbin took out the several scrolls of white silk covered in writing that Yunfang had given him. He read and recited them carefully, living alone in the cave. Ten days later, Yunfang returned and asked, “You’ve been staying in this mountain, in solitude and quiet. Don’t you want to go home?”

Dongbin replied, “Now that I’ve resolved to cultivate the Dao, how could I still long for home?”

Yunfang said, “Very good! You still don’t understand the subtle workings of Yin and Yang as they separate and reunite. If you hold only to the Yin aspect, you have only the po. If you preserve and cultivate only the Yang aspect, you have only the hun. When you can unite the Yang hun and Yin po, bringing Yin and Yang together and making the hun and po one, you are called a perfected person.”

Dongbin said, “The hun and po are mysterious and hard to fathom, and their ultimate principles are profound. How can I make the body whole?”

Yunfang replied, “Wisdom emerges from what is subtle; when the mind and spirit are settled, they become clear and illumined. Once Shen and Qi are joined, how could they fail to accord with the Great Dao? A form of gold and a substance of jade arise from sincerity and dedication. When the Great Medicine has been refined, one becomes a perfected person, and the body grows so light it seems able to ascend into the air.”

From then on, Dongbin asked ten times about the principles of perfecting the self. Yunfang taught him each of the supreme, wondrous secret instructions, freeing him completely from the turbid thoughts of the mundane world.

Not long afterward, someone knocked at the door. The visitors were Zheng Siyuan of Qingxi and the perfected adept of Taihua. They came slowly through the air from the southeast, their bearing stately and their appearance radiant as gold and jade. They exchanged greetings and sat down together. Zheng Siyuan said, “It has been a long time since we last met. We just visited the place where Yin Siyi refined elixirs, so we came by to visit your dwelling.”

The perfected adept asked, “Who is this attendant?”

Yunfang replied, “He is the son of Lü Rang of Haizhou in our dynasty. In his youth he studied the Confucian classics, but later his efforts to pursue an official career in the capital came to nothing. We happened to meet in a wine shop in Chang’an, and afterward he followed me in cultivating the Dao. He has grasped the subtle principles of harmonizing Yin and Yang and cultivating the body and spirit.”

Dongbin then bowed to the two perfected adepts. Zheng Siyuan looked at him and said, “You have a refined appearance, abundant spirit and Qi, a clear gaze, and Jing held within. If you wish to escape the bonds of the mundane world, compose a poem for me to see.”

He gave Dongbin a golden writing brush, rosy-hued paper, and a spirit-glue rhinoceros-horn inkstone. Dongbin immediately composed this poem:

“Through ten thousand kalpas and a thousand lives, I have finally come to this life; only in this age have I realized that my body is beginning to grow light.”

Lu Dongbin wished to free himself from worldly entanglements and asked his master for guidance in the form of a poem. His master, Yunfang (the legendary Zhongli Quan), handed him a gold-tubed brush and a rhinoceros-horn inkstone made with spirit glue. Lu Dongbin immediately wrote:

Only after countless kalpas and innumerable rebirths have I arrived in this life. In this lifetime, I have begun to feel my body grow light, as if I could ascend to the heavens. I left my home and came beyond the cloud-veiled mountains, refining my soul and spirit in the essence of the sun and moon. Lately I have heard a lofty master speak of the Way of the Nine Cauldrons. Wishing to seek the Great Medicine, I went to pay my respects to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing). Now, fortunate enough to meet a true immortal, I can leave my name before the immortal gates of the Purple Palace, the realm where immortals dwell.

Yunfang read the poem three times and praised its elegant, graceful lines. As birds chirped in the spring air, he asked Lu Dongbin to inscribe a poem at the mouth of the cave. Lu Dongbin wrote: “Spring warmth fills the sky; dew drips from the flowers. The morning sun lights the sea, while clouds gather among the mountains.”

Yunfang then said to him, “I will soon pay homage to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning. The immortal guests from the Ten Isles will also go to the Jade Capital, the residence of the Celestial Emperor, to report my merits and help me ascend to the ranks of the immortals. You are unlikely to remain in this cave for long. Ten years from now, we will meet at Lake Dongting.” Then he swept his brush across the cave wall and wrote sixteen characters: “The bright sun shines high; the night moon is full and clear. Yin and Yang, soul and spirit, mingle and ascend.” He tossed down the brush and cautioned Lu Dongbin: “As you travel through the world, you should practice the Way of aiding others and bringing benefit to all. When your merits are complete, we will meet again.”

At that time, Yunfang also transmitted the Complete Method of the Lingbao (Lingbao Bifa) to Lu Dongbin. According to legend, Yunfang had once found three works of the Lingbao Scripture among the stone cliffs of Mount Zhongnan. The upper work was called the Golden Proclamation of Primordial Beginning, the middle the Jade Register of the Sun’s Origin, and the lower the True Meaning of the Great High One’s Primordial Essence; together they comprised several thousand volumes. Yunfang distilled their essential teachings into the Complete Method, organizing them into twelve categories and six principles. Its teachings concern the presence of Yang within Yin and Yin within Yang, and the rising and descending movement of Qi in Heaven and Earth; the generation of water within Qi and Qi within water, and the mechanism by which the heart and kidneys unite; and the use of the Eight Trigrams (Bagua) in correspondence with the twelve double-hours, with the key lying in the Gen trigram.

In Neidan cultivation, the Lower, Middle, and Upper Dantian must work together and circulate repeatedly. The key lies in the Niwan Palace, the site of Neidan practice above the head. For introductory exercises, swallowing breath and holding and swallowing saliva may serve as metaphors for the time being. The true essentials and formulas of cultivation must be transmitted orally and heart to heart; they cannot be learned from written words alone.

Lei Mai Fang then took out a few more spirit pills for Dongbin to see and said, “These are not pills made in the human world by refining the five metals and eight minerals. They are compounded from rare treasures of this world. They have substance but no form, like clouds, fire, light, or shadows: visible, yet impossible to grasp. Once taken, they merge with a person’s soul and awareness, making the person light, empty, and subtle. They are unlike pills that have a tangible form.”

He then presented another poem:

“I know that you were born with a keen and luminous nature. That is why I unsettled your mind and spirit, so that you might thereby grasp the mystery. The Crystal Palace above the Hanyuan Hall points clearly to the grotto-heavens where immortals dwell.

When a great man encounters the true formula, he must set his mind firmly upon it. The Five Phases are brought into correspondence through the ‘knife and measure’—a metaphor for the crucial proportions used to harmonize the ingredients in alchemy. You must master the secret of reversing the Tortoise and Snake. Disperse the Three Corpses spirits, understand the celestial timing of advance and retreat, and overcome the Six Thieves, the desires that disturb the mind. Once you understand these three essentials, the myriad spirits will gather. You will harness the fire dragon and leave the ninefold gates of Heaven.

After cultivation through nine times nine cycles, when the day comes to realize the Dao, the Three Realms and Four Courts will all perform the rite of paying homage to the Primordial. Qi will rise and soar, the spirits will grow still, and Penglai will be my home. Immortals will gather for a feast amid the clamor of celestial music, while two attendants lead you to become a guest ascending to the Mysterious Heights.

Because my Dao-heart has never wavered, I pass these teachings on to you. When I made my vow, I sealed it with my own blood. Do not reveal them casually to others, and do not pass them on lightly even to close friends. Do not blame me for repeating these cautions: to treat these teachings carelessly and disclose them will bring punishment from the underworld authorities.

Today, as I clasp your hand to part from you, what feelings fill my heart? I have composed this song especially for you. Though I have spoken at length of many mysteries, you may not yet believe me. After midnight, I will explain them clearly. Treasure my words, and cultivate yourself in the hope of ascending to the Great Luo Heaven.”

Just as Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin’s transmission was about to end, two immortals suddenly appeared, clad in rosy clouds and holding golden tablets and precious talismans. They said, “By the decree of the Supreme Emperor, Zhongli Quan is appointed Envoy for Selecting Immortals at the Golden Palace of the Nine Heavens.” Zhongli Quan said to Dongbin, “I am about to ascend to Heaven. You must remain in the human world and diligently cultivate merit and De. One day, you too will be like me.”

Lü Dongbin bowed twice and said, “My aspiration differs from yours, sir. I am determined to save all living beings under heaven first; only afterward will it not be too late for me to ascend to heaven.” At that moment, the Celestial Emperor issued an edict appointing Zhongli Quan as Immortal-Selection Envoy of the Golden Portal of the Nine Heavens (the envoy in the celestial court responsible for selecting immortals). Zhongli Quan said to Lü Dongbin, “I am about to ascend to heaven. Remain at ease in the human world, cultivate merit and establish virtue, and in the future you will surely be able to become like me.” Then luan birds and colorful phoenixes spread their wings and flew; golden banners and jade standards (immortal processional regalia) were arrayed, and immortal music rang out brightly. Mr. Zhongli and the two immortals bearing the edict rode the clouds and slowly departed.

Having obtained Mr. Yunfang’s Daoist methods, Lü Dongbin also learned the Heavenly Escape Sword Techniques from the Perfected One Fire Dragon. What this sword cuts away are affliction, sensual desire, greed, and anger. He once wrote a poem: “In former days I met the Lord Fire Dragon; he transmitted a sword to me, and this sword has accompanied me until now. Heaven and earth, mountains and rivers seem congealed into foam; let the stars and sun and moon cease their turning. Know that the original nature endures through many kalpas without end; to ask others about ten thousand years is idle labor. Last night Zhongli sent word: the palaces of the Six Heavens are about to turn to dust.”

In his early years, Lü Dongbin traveled through the Jianghuai region and once tested his numinous sword by slaying a great dragon and removing the harm it caused. His whereabouts and transformations were elusive and unfathomable; more than four hundred years have passed since then. He once made a great vow to Mr. Yunfang, and still drifts through the human world, teaching the people of the world and saving living beings. Although Lü Dongbin remains in the human world, he has already transcended the dusty world.

Lü Dongbin said, “People all vie to see me; yet even if they see me, if they are unwilling to act according to my words, what use is it even to be with me day and night? If a person can be loyal to the state, at home be filial to parents and affectionate to siblings, be trustworthy in friendships, be generous and compassionate toward subordinates, not neglect their original heart, and not do deceitful things in private; and if they can do good and help others, secretly accumulating virtue, then they will naturally be loved by celestial beings and humans and respected by ghosts and spirits. If only this one thought of goodness arises, that person is already walking with me; even without seeing me, it is as if they have seen me. If a person’s original nature constantly preserves good thoughts, it returns to Yangming, causing the original nature to enter a light, spiritual, and pure realm; this is the road to heaven.”

As long as one harbors evil thoughts, one will fall into darkness, one’s temperament will become turbid, and one will gradually sink into a coarse, benighted condition—this is the stairway to hell. Heaven and hell are not truly governed by any ruling lord; they are transformed and formed by the human mind itself.

In the early Jianlong era of Emperor Taizu of Song, Lü Dongbin came out from the palace’s rear garden and declared himself to the emperor as “Zhuling Shangdi,” saying that he ruled the world by Fire Virtue. He spoke with the emperor for a long time, but the content of their conversation was not transmitted. Emperor Taizu unclasped his ochre robe and jade belt and gave them to him; in an instant he disappeared. The emperor ordered a portrait of him painted at Taiqing Tower, and the Daoist Registrar Chen Jingyuan spread this portrait among the people.

During the Zhenghe era, there were hauntings in the palace: apparitions appeared even in broad daylight, stole gold, silver, and treasures, and assaulted the imperial concubines; only the emperor’s quarters escaped harm. Lin Lingsu, Wang Wenqing, and other Shichen (high-ranking Daoist ritual masters) were ordered to expel them, and the hauntings subsided for a time, but then reappeared. The emperor fasted and prayed, composing six prayer texts in succession.

One day, in a daytime dream, the emperor saw a Daoist standing outside Shuhua Gate, wearing a green lotus crown and a purple crane cloak, and holding a crystal ruyi scepter. The Daoist stepped forward, bowed, and said, “I have received the command of the Supreme Lord and have come to expel the hauntings in the palace.” After a long while, a huge man ten chi tall, clad in golden armor, seized the haunting, split it open, and swallowed it, eating almost all of it. The emperor asked who this giant was. The Daoist replied, “He is Chonghe Zhenjun Guan Yu, whom Your Majesty conferred with that title.”

The emperor repeatedly thanked and comforted the Daoist, then asked where Zhang Fei was. Guan Yu said, “Zhang Fei is my brother through many lifetimes. He has now been reborn into the Yue family of Xiangzhou, within Your Majesty’s realm, and in the future he will assist in the restoration and establish merit.” The emperor asked the Daoist’s name. The Daoist replied, “My surname is Yang; I was born on the fourteenth day of the fourth month.”

After waking, the emperor recorded the dream, summoned the Shichen, and told them about it, believing that the Daoist in the dream was probably Lü Dongbin. From then on the palace was peaceful. The emperor then issued an edict: wherever in the realm incense was offered to Lü Dongbin, he should be honored as “Zhengmiaotong Zhenren.” It is said that this honorific title began at this time. The following text records his ci lyrics.

We are pleased to let the common people and the court share in the governance of the Great Dao. All immortals and recluses should be entered in the registers; since they can also silently respond to prayers, they ought rightly to receive favor. Zhenren Lü concealed his traces and hid his writings, traveling far and near. Later, when a blessed abode was built, it happened that there was a dwelling where he could be settled. We marvel at this fitting convergence of circumstances and bestow a title upon him. The spirits are solemn and august; We ask them again to deign to take note of this matter, and hereby confer upon Zhenren Lü the title “Miaotong Zhenren” (Perfected of Wondrous Penetration). An image of him should be made in the Jingling Palace and worshipped according to the annual festivals and seasons.

Yunfang’s Ten Tests of Dongbin

In the first test, Dongbin returned home from afar and suddenly saw that all his family had died of illness. He felt no grief in his heart and merely prepared what was needed for burial. Before long, all the dead members of his family revived, their bodies safe and sound.

In the second test, Dongbin was selling goods in the marketplace, and buyer and seller agreed on a price. Later the buyer suddenly would pay only half. Dongbin did not argue; he did not even take the other half of the payment, but left the goods and departed.

In the third test, Dongbin went out on New Year’s Day, and suddenly a beggar leaned against the gate asking him for alms. Dongbin gave him money and goods, but the beggar demanded more without cease and even abused him with foul words and drew a knife against him. Dongbin bowed and apologized repeatedly, opened his garment to receive the blade, and the beggar laughed and went away.

In the fourth test, Dongbin was herding sheep in the mountains when a tiger came chasing after him and was about to close in. He pushed the sheep down a steep slope and faced the tiger alone, whereupon the tiger left.

In the fifth test, Dongbin was living alone in a thatched hut in the mountains, reading. One day, as he sat upright and formal, he suddenly saw a woman of seventeen or eighteen, extraordinarily beautiful and radiant, dressed in splendid clothes. She said she was on her way back to her parents’ home but had lost her way; it was growing late, her feet were tired, and she hoped to borrow the hut to rest for a while. Having said this, she knitted her brows and acted coquettishly, appearing utterly frail. Then she used every kind of charm and flirted in every way, and at night she even asked to share a bed with Dongbin; throughout, Dongbin remained unmoved. Three days passed in this way before the woman took her leave.

On the sixth trial, one day Dongbin went out of the city to the countryside. When he returned, a woman had already come to his home. She was charming and seductive, teasing him in various ways, and at night she drew close to him, wanting to sleep with him. Dongbin remained unmoved throughout. This went on for three days before the woman finally took her leave.

In yet another trial, Dongbin returned from going out to find that his household valuables had been completely plundered by thieves, leaving him barely able to maintain daily life. He bore no resentment or anger, but personally farmed the land and supported himself by his own labor. Before long, while hoeing the ground, he discovered dozens of gold ingots. He immediately covered them again with earth and took not a single piece.

On the seventh trial, Dongbin bought a batch of copperware. After returning home, he found that it had all turned into gold. He then sought out the person who had sold him the copperware and returned the gold objects to him.

On the eighth trial, an eccentric Daoist priest was selling medicine in the marketplace, claiming that anyone who took it would die immediately. For more than ten days no one bought any. Dongbin thought the medicine must surely have some other purpose, so he bought a dose. The Daoist priest told him, “You had better hurry and prepare for your funeral; I am leaving.” After Dongbin took the medicine, however, he was completely fine.

On the ninth trial, heavy rain fell for days in spring, the river rose, and everyone found it difficult to cross. Only Dongbin rowed a small boat out to the middle of the river. Wind and waves surged, yet he still sat upright in the boat, leaving life and death to fate, and in the end he came through safely.

On the tenth trial, Dongbin was sitting alone in a room when he suddenly saw countless ghosts and spirits of grotesque appearance. Some raised weapons to attack him, and some wanted to kill him, but he paid them no attention. Then dozens of yakshas (fierce ghostly attendants in legend) escorted a condemned prisoner before him. The man was covered in blood and gore and cried out, “In a previous life you killed me; now hurry and pay with your life.” Dongbin replied, “A life for a life is only right; what is there to refuse?” With that he asked for a knife and rope and prepared to take his own life. Suddenly a shout was heard from midair, and all the ghosts and spirits disappeared. It turned out that all of this was a trial set up by Yunfang (the immortal master who, according to legend, transmitted Daoist teachings to Dongbin). He clapped his hands, laughed loudly, and descended from the sky.

This is the story of Dongbin undergoing Yunfang’s ten trials.

When Heaven and Earth meet, the Yang Qi of the Qian trigram joins with the Kun trigram three times. Heaven’s Yang Qi enters the Earth, giving rise to the Three Yangs. The Yin Qi of the Kun trigram joins with the Qian trigram three times, and the Earth’s Yin Qi enters Heaven, giving rise to the Three Yins. Within Yang there is Yin, called “true Yin”; when true Yin reaches Heaven, it comes into being through the aid of Yang Qi. Within Yin there is Yang, called “true Yang”; when true Yang reaches the Earth, it is stirred into activity through the aid of Yin Qi. When Yin and Yang unite in accord with the Dao (the Way), they can endure naturally.

The moon receives the sun’s essence and spirit, and Yang Qi causes it to change from Yang to Yin. When Yin Qi reaches its utmost, it turns into pure Yang, and the moonlight becomes bright and clear. When cultivation reaches this state, Qi can be gathered and condensed into Shen (spirit).

Within the human heart there are the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water); within a single day there are the four seasons (spring, summer, autumn, winter). Ultimately, all of this is the mutual shifting and transformation of Yin and Yang. Yang cannot be separated from Yin, or it cannot take shape; yet if Yin is absent throughout, Yang too will move toward extinction. Yin cannot be separated from Yang, or it cannot come forth and grow; and once Yin Qi has been exhausted, it will ultimately return to pure Yang.

Fourth question: What are water, fire, the dragon, and the tiger?

Answer: Within the human body are sovereign fire, ministerial fire, and popular fire, each referring to a different level of fire energy. True fire arises from water and exists in a state so elusive it is hard to grasp. Something seems to be there, yet it cannot be seen or seized. True water arises from fire and exists in a deep, obscure state. It contains essence and Qi, but even when seen, it cannot be held. The “water” spoken of here means kidney water. The Qi contained in water is called true fire, or heart fire; the liquid produced within fire is called true water.

Water generates Wood: when kidney Qi is abundant, liver Qi begins to grow. Once the kidney’s excess Yin Qi has been used up, the Qi, upon reaching the liver, becomes pure Yang Qi. To store within the body the Water of the True One—that is, the original essence gathered through cultivation—is called the true dragon, in a state of elusive obscurity.

Fire overcomes Metal: when heart fluid is abundant, lung fluid is generated. Once the heart’s excess Yang Qi has been used up, the fluid, upon reaching the lungs, becomes pure Yin fluid. To store within the body the Qi of Correct Yang is called the true tiger, in a state of profound obscurity. The true dragon and true tiger are symbolic terms in Neidan (internal alchemy), referring respectively to what is true within water and what is true within fire.

Take water from Qi and Qi from water, and gather them until they are the size of a millet grain. Return them to the Yellow Court, the central chamber within the body and the Dantian region in Daoist teaching. This is the “Great Elixir,” the elixir formed through Neidan cultivation.

Fifth question: What are lead and mercury?

Answer: Lead is heavy by nature and tends to sink. This is a metaphor for kidney water flowing downward and being easily depleted. Mercury is light and buoyant by nature and tends to rise. This is a metaphor for heart fire rising upward and being easily scattered. To use lead to control mercury is to use heaviness and stability to settle what is light and floating, preventing heart fire from becoming scattered so that the Neidan can congeal.

The sixth question concerns “drawing out and adding.”

Answer: After the winter solstice, Yang Qi rises from beneath the earth, and the world gradually sheds Yin Qi. Greater Yin (a state in which Yin Qi predominates) changes into Terminal Yin; Lesser Yang (the state in which Yang Qi has just begun to arise) is supplemented and becomes Bright Yang. Terminal Yin then changes into Lesser Yin, while Bright Yang is supplemented again and becomes Greater Yang. After the summer solstice, Yin Qi descends from the heavens, and the sky gradually sheds Yang Qi. Greater Yang changes into Bright Yang, while Lesser Yin is supplemented and becomes Terminal Yin; Bright Yang then changes into Lesser Yang, while Terminal Yin is supplemented again and becomes Greater Yin.

This is also like the movement of the sun and moon: the moon receives the sun’s soul (the sun’s Yang essence), and the sun receives the moon’s po (the moon’s Yin essence). During the first fifteen days, the moon gradually sheds its po as the sun gradually adds to its hun. Their essences become full, and the moonlight illuminates the earth. Otherwise, the moon could not wax from its first appearance to the first quarter, and then from the first quarter to the full moon. After the full moon, the moon gathers back its Yin po, and the sun takes in Yang essence. During the next fifteen days, the sun gradually sheds its hun as the moon gradually adds to its po. The moonlight slowly fades, and the Yin po gradually settles. Otherwise, the moon could not wane from full moon to last quarter, and then pass from last quarter into the dark and new moon at the end and beginning of the lunar month. The sun and moon alternate in their changes, forming “nine and six”—the numerical pattern of Yin and Yang waxing and waning. This is the image of “drawing out and adding.”

The seventh question concerns the “River Cart.”

Answer: Within the human body, Yang Qi is scant and Yin Qi abundant; at root, this is like the nature of water. Hence the practice takes the “River Cart” as its model. The River Cart rises from the utmost Yin waters of the north; unlike the cultivation methods of heterodox schools, it does not depend on forceful movement. The River Cart is a metaphor in Neidan cultivation for the regular circulation and ascent and descent of Yin and Yang Qi within the body.

Question Eight: What is the mystery of inner contemplation and sitting in oblivion—cultivating oneself through quiet sitting, inward reflection, and forgetting external things?

Answer: The so-called union of the Dragon and Tiger and the harmonizing of Yin and Yang are symbolic descriptions grounded in Neidan cultivation. The Perfected One of the Nine Sovereigns leads a boy dressed in vermilion down, while the True Mother of the Nine Sovereigns leads a woman dressed in black up. The two meet before the “Yellow Chamber,” a place within the body used for Neidan cultivation. At this point, an old woman dressed in yellow guides them from the side. Their encounter is likened to a husband and wife coming together, with both taking pleasure in the union. When it is over, the woman descends and the man ascends, as though the couple were parting. A pellet-sized object, the color of a red mandarin orange, then forms. It is cast into the Yellow Chamber, where it is filled with and retains Metal Qi.

Question Nine: Will this kind of cultivation bring demonic obstacles and hardships?

Answer: You should therefore understand the “Ten Demons and Nine Hardships.” The Nine Hardships are the distress caused by inadequate food and clothing; entanglements of affection; involvement in fame and profit; unexpected calamities and illnesses; constraint by ignorant teachers and elders; hearing conflicting opinions; slackening resolve; delays as the years pass; and upheaval in the times, with social disorder.

The Ten Demons are the demon of the Six Thieves—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind that disturb a person; the demon of wealth and rank; the demon of the Six Emotions; the demon of affection; the demon of hardship; the demon of sages and worthies, referring to disturbances caused by spirits and Buddhas; the demon of weapons and warfare; the demon of female music and entertainment; the demon of female beauty; and the demon of goods and profit.

Question: At what stage of cultivation do signs of attainment appear?

Answer: At first, lustful and improper thoughts cease completely, while outward conduct and inner cultivation proceed together. When gathering the medicine—a Neidan term for collecting and refining the body’s Jing and Qi—you will feel that the golden essence, meaning Jing and Qi, is abundant and that the Yin soul, the Yin and turbid, stagnant forces of the spirit, is dissolving. Then Qi will seem to surge through the Heart channel, and sweet fluids will well up in the mouth. After that, Yin and Yang Qi will clash, with a sound in the abdomen like thunder.

Next, the hun and po souls will still be unsettled, and you may wake in fright from dreams. Mild ailments may sometimes arise, but they will pass on their own without treatment. Later, the Dantian, the Neidan cultivation site below the navel, will grow warm at night, and the body will feel refreshed. Even in a dark room, you may seem to see divine light. You may also feel as though you are holding an infant in your arms and returning upward to the Golden Palace, the celestial halls of Daoist tradition.

Then you will hear a thunderous sound. The joints of the body will open and flow freely, and you may break into a heavy sweat. Jade Fluid, the name for bodily fluids in cultivation, will be refined and congeal into a butterlike substance, scattering like snowflakes. At times, you may feel that your blood has turned to milk and gradually lose your taste for strong-smelling foods. You may also feel your worldly body becoming lighter and gradually taking on the quality of gold and jade.

After this, your movements will be as swift as a galloping horse, and external things will no longer stir your mind. Your breath may heal illness, and inner observation—turning awareness inward to contemplate body and mind—will become clear. Your eyes will be black as lacquer, and cut hair may grow back. With Qi abundant, you will often feel no hunger; you will eat little yet seem able to drink a great deal of wine. Your spirit-body will be radiant, and your Jing and Qi refined. Strange flavors will arise in your mouth, and unusual fragrances will reach your nose. Your eyesight will extend far into the distance, scars will fade, and secretions such as mucus, tears, saliva, and sweat will cease. The Three Corpses and Nine Worms, Daoist terms for impure forces within the body, will also be entirely removed.

Later still, your mind will become clear and lofty, joining with the Great Void, the boundless expanse of emptiness. Worldly desires will subside, and mind and outer surroundings will return together to stillness and emptiness. The hun and po souls will no longer wander outward, and dreams will naturally disappear. Your spirit will be lucid and bright, day and night alike. Yang essence will condense into form, and the numinous chamber—the dwelling place of the inner spirit—will be secure, untouched by cold or heat and unbound by life or death. Exhaling or blowing will dry the external mercury, the mercury-like substance used in Waidan. Whether sitting or lying down, divine light will often appear around you.

While sitting in meditation, you may sometimes hear heavenly music, clear and resonant like the sounds of metal, stone, strings, and bamboo instruments. Such sounds are rarely heard in the world. During inner observation or spiritual wandering, you may sometimes see towers and halls in Huaxu, the legendary realm of perfection; such sights, too, are rarely encountered in the world. Afterward, you may sense the foul odor of ordinary people and see inner deities appear, while outer deities come to pay homage.

When the merit of cultivation is complete and the Dao is realized, you will receive a bestowed register and talismanic charts. Purple clouds will fill your vision, and golden light will envelop your whole body. At times, you will see fire dragons flying and dark cranes circling, with colored clouds and auspicious vapors all around, heavenly flowers falling, and divine maidens descending. Thus you will transcend the ordinary and enter the realm of the sages, free and at ease. This is the moment when a great man’s achievement is complete and his name made.

I was originally from Jingchuan. In the late Tang dynasty, I sat for the jinshi examination three times and failed each time. Later, after witnessing strange events—flowers raining from the sky and a divine maiden descending—I left the ordinary world and entered the realm of the sages. From then on, I roamed freely and at ease. This was the moment when a great man’s achievements are complete and his fame shines brightly.

I was originally from Jingchuan. In the late Tang, I traveled throughout the rivers and lakes in search of Daoist teachings. I met Master Zhongli, Lü Dongbin’s teacher, and learned methods for extending life and longevity. Before long, I met the True Lord of Bitter Bamboo and received the method of joining the sun and moon, a Daoist cultivation practice for harmonizing Yin and Yang. Later, I came to Mount Zhongnan and met Master Zhongli again, learning the art of the Great Elixir of Golden Liquids, a method of Daoist Neidan cultivation. I did not complete the Great Dao until I was fifty.

I was five chi and two cun tall, with a yellowish-white complexion, a high, straight nose, and a black mole on my left eyebrow. I usually wore a white robe with a black silk sash, and could transform in unpredictable ways: sometimes into a jinshi candidate, sometimes into a soldier. People often said that I could fly a sword to kill others. When I heard this, I laughed and said, “Compassion is the spirit of the Buddha. Immortals and Buddhas share the same path—why would they take someone’s life? I do indeed have swords, but they are not as people describe them. The first sword cuts away greed and anger; the second cuts away desire; the third cuts away affliction. These are my three swords.”

Since attaining the Dao, I have guided He Xiangu and Guo Shangchong to the Way. They were open-minded and intelligent, so I taught them the method of returning to the root, a cultivation practice that brings the mind and spirit back to their source. I once said to people, “What use is honoring my portrait or name compared with practicing as I do? Follow my example in your practice and keep to my methods; you need not see me with your own eyes to attain the Great Dao. Otherwise, even if you spent every day with me, what benefit would that bring?” This account is found at Wangjiang Pavilion in Jiangzhou.

In the seventh year of the Kaicheng era under Emperor Wenzong of the Tang dynasty, a Daoist named Lü Weng had mastered the arts of immortality. He was traveling along the road to Nao when, tired from walking, he stopped at an inn to rest. He set down his bundle and sat. Before long, a young man named Lu Sheng, whose given name was Ying, arrived at the inn. Dressed in a coarse cloth jacket and riding a blue-gray donkey, he was on his way to the fields. He stopped at the inn too and sat at the same table as Lü Weng. The two hit it off, chatting and laughing together.

After a while, Lu Sheng looked at his worn, shabby clothes and sighed deeply. “A man lives in this world, yet cannot fulfill his ambitions and ends up in such poverty.”

Lü Weng said, “You seem healthy, and you speak with ease and good humor. Why do you say you are down on your luck?”

“To spend my life like this,” Lu Sheng replied, “how could that be called living as I please?”

Lü Weng asked, “If this is not living as you please, what is?”

“A scholar living in the world should establish achievements and make a name for himself,” Lu Sheng said. “He should serve as a general on campaign and as a minister at court, enjoy precious and abundant food, listen to beautiful and moving music, and bring greater prosperity and wealth to his family. Only then can a man be said to have his heart’s desire. I once resolved to study and learned a wide range of skills, believing I would soon attain high rank and honor. Now my prime years have already passed, and I am still laboring in the fields. Does that not count as hardship?”

Before he had finished speaking, Lu Sheng’s vision grew dim and he began to feel sleepy. The innkeeper was then steaming yellow millet. Lü Weng took a pillow from his bundle and handed it to him. “Rest your head on my pillow,” he said, “and you will see your wishes for wealth and glory fulfilled.” The pillow was made of blue-green porcelain, with a hole at each end. Lu Sheng rested his head on it. The opening gradually grew larger, and the inside grew brighter and brighter. He climbed all the way through it and soon found himself back at home.

Several months later, he married a daughter of the Cui family of Qinghe. She was exceptionally beautiful, and her family was very wealthy. Lu Sheng was delighted, and from then on his clothes and carriage grew more splendid by the day. The following year, he passed the civil service examination, exchanged his commoner’s clothes for official robes, and entered government service.

The following year, he passed the jinshi examination. He then left behind his commoner’s robes and took up a post as Collator in the Secretariat Library. Later, an imperial edict transferred him to serve as Commandant of Weinan, and before long he was promoted to Investigating Censor. He went on to serve as Palace Drafter and Director of Edicts. Three years later, he left the capital to hold office in the area around Xingzhou and Tongzhou, and was then transferred to the outskirts of Shaanxi. He was born with a desire to accomplish great things. In Shaanxi, he had an eighty-li waterway dug, solving the local problem of impassable river routes. The people benefited from it, and a stone inscription was erected to record his achievement.

Later, he was transferred to Bianzhou, where he also served as Henan Circuit Commissioner for Investigation, and was then summoned to become Prefect of Jingzhao. That year, Emperor Shenwu was occupied with guarding against threats on the northern frontier and expanding the realm. The Tibetan generals Xicailuo and Zhulong Mangbuqi captured Guazhou and Shazhou. The military governor Wang Junchan had just been killed, throwing the Hexi and Huangshui regions into turmoil. The emperor, mindful of his talent for commanding troops, appointed him Censor-in-Chief and Military Governor of the Hexi Circuit. He inflicted a crushing defeat on the frontier forces, took seven thousand heads, expanded the territory by nine hundred li, and built a great city to hold the strategic passes. The people of the frontier erected a stele on Juyan Mountain to praise his achievements.

When he returned to court, he received rewards and honors with exceptional ceremony. He was then promoted to Vice Minister of Personnel, and later became Minister of Revenue while also serving as Censor-in-Chief. People widely praised his upright character, and everyone supported him. But the powerful chief minister deeply resented him and spread rumors to discredit him, so he was demoted to Prefect of Duanzhou. Three years later, he was summoned back to serve as a Palace Attendant. Before long, he was appointed Tong Zhongshu Menxia Pingzhangshi, taking part in the affairs of the chief ministers. For more than ten years, he and Chancellor Xiao Hao and Chamberlain Pei Guangting jointly directed the government. His plans were sound, and he often received secret instructions, entering the palace several times in a single day to deliberate on state affairs. He offered the ruler advice, helped put government affairs in order, and guided him through his words; for this, he was called a worthy chancellor.

His colleagues envied him and falsely accused him of colluding with frontier generals and plotting rebellion. The court ordered him imprisoned. Government officials arrived at his home with attendants and suddenly took him into custody. In panic and confusion, he said to his wife and children, “There is good farmland by the mountain near our home…”

The gentleman was terrified and could not foresee what might happen. He said to his wife, “Our family has five qing of good farmland in Shanshu, enough to protect us from cold and hunger. Why did I seek an official post? Now I have come to this.” He wanted to put on a coarse, short robe and ride his blue pony along the roads of the county, but he could no longer do so. He then took a knife and tried to kill himself, but his wife stopped him.

All those who had conspired to frame him died. Only the gentleman survived: he was cleared of the charge of being a eunuch, spared execution, and exiled to Guanzhou. Several years later, the emperor learned that he had suffered an injustice and restored him to office. He was posthumously honored as Minister of the Secretariat and granted the title Duke of Yan. The emperor’s favor toward him was exceptionally generous.

The gentleman had five sons, all talented and discerning. Jian passed the jinshi examination and served as an Assistant Director of the Ministry of Evaluation; Zun served as an Investigating Censor; Wei as a Vice Director of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices; Chou as a Commandant of Wannian County; and Yi, the most able of them, became Left Yibiao at the age of twenty-eight. Their families by marriage were among the most renowned in the empire, and they had more than ten grandchildren.

The gentleman was exiled twice to remote and desolate places, then twice rose to high office. He served both inside and outside the court, entering and leaving the government offices for more than fifty years. He was illustrious and powerful, and lived in considerable luxury and indulgence. He loved music and dance; the performers and furnishings in his private quarters were exceptionally splendid. Over the years he was granted fine farmland, grand residences, beautiful women, and renowned horses in such numbers that they could not be counted.

In old age, he grew increasingly frail and repeatedly asked to retire, but the emperor refused each time. During his illness, visitors came without pause to pay their respects, and renowned physicians and fine medicines were sent to him. Shortly before his death, he submitted this memorial:

“Your servant was originally a scholar from Shanshu, content with a life among the fields and gardens. By chance, I came upon an age of enlightened rule and was able to enter the court, receiving the emperor’s exceptional recognition and generous favor. Outside the court, I commanded the imperial standard; within it, I rose to the highest ministerial office. I served both inside and outside the court over many years. Though I received the favor of Heaven, I did nothing to advance the emperor’s enlightened governance. I held high office without the virtue to deserve it, and instead invited disaster. Walking on thin ice, I felt ever greater apprehension. My fear grew day by day, and before I knew it, I had grown old. This year I am past eighty and hold one of the Three Ducal offices. My body’s faculties have all failed, and my sinews and bones have grown weak. My illness is grave, and my days are nearly over. Looking back on my life, I have no real achievements with which to repay the emperor’s favor, nor have I been able to contribute to the court’s just and enlightened governance.”

I have squandered the court’s profound kindness. Now I am about to leave this peaceful age forever, and my gratitude and attachment are beyond words. I therefore respectfully submit this memorial to express my thanks.

The emperor issued an edict: “Through your outstanding virtue, you rose to serve as one of the Three Dukes, the highest ministers who assist in governing. Now the water clock has fallen silent, and your sinews and bones have grown old. Your illness is severe, and as you linger near death, your remaining days may be few. I deeply regret that you will have no further chance to distinguish yourself through your achievements. You have squandered the court’s profound kindness. Now you are about to leave this peaceful age forever, and your gratitude and attachment are beyond words. You therefore respectfully submit this memorial to express your thanks.”

The emperor issued another edict: “Through your noble virtue, you became my chief minister. When outside the capital, you governed the regional commands; when at court, you helped secure and strengthen the state. For twenty years, the realm has enjoyed peace and stability, and this has truly been due in large part to you. Recently you fell ill, and every day I have hoped for your recovery.

I never imagined your illness would become so grave. I am deeply saddened. I am now sending the Grand General of the Flying Cavalry, Gao Lishi, to visit you at your residence. I hope you will take care of yourself and devote yourself to recuperation. I still hope this is only a false alarm, and that you will gradually recover.”

That night, Lu Sheng awoke to find himself still lying in the inn. Lü Weng sat beside him, and the yellow millet the innkeeper had set to steam was not yet cooked. Everything was just as before. Lu Sheng sat bolt upright and said, “I never imagined that it had all been a dream.”

Lü Weng said to him, “All the experiences of fulfillment in life are no more than a dream like this.” Lu Sheng pondered for a long time, then thanked Lü Weng, saying, “I now understand the principles of favor and disgrace, hardship and success, gain and loss, life and death. You have used this experience to dispel my desires. How could I fail to accept your teaching?” He bowed twice, then departed.

End of Volume One of The Annals of Lüzu.

The Annals of Lüzu, Volume Two

Record of Deeds

Twenty-Two Accounts of Supernatural Powers and Transformations

Peach of Wuchang City

While traveling in Wuchang, Dongbin disguised himself as a Daoist. His body was covered in festering sores; his belly was exposed, and the sores had burst open. Beneath Yellow Crane Mountain, he called out, “Rub my belly for me! Rub my belly for me!” Seeing how filthy and foul-smelling he was, most people dared not come near. At first, they did not realize that “rub my belly” carried the hidden meaning “I have come to save you.”

The next day, he disguised himself as a merchant and sold large peaches beneath the mountain. When someone came to buy one, he asked what it was for. Everyone said they were buying peaches for their children to eat, but no one said they were buying them for their parents. The Perfected One—a transcendent who had attained the Dao—lamented how shallow people had become. He threw all the peaches away and hung them on the cliff, leaving them to rot and leave their mark. Today, the Immortal’s Traces Pavilion stands beneath Yellow Magpie Mountain, said to commemorate this event.

Selling Ink in Wuchang

While traveling in Wuchang, Dongbin disguised himself as an ink seller. The ink sticks he brought were only a little over an inch long, yet he asked three thousand coins for each. For several days he sold none, and everyone laughed at him. A butcher named Wang said, “The ink stick is so small, yet the price is so high. Could there be some other purpose?” He took out three thousand coins and bought a bamboo shoot, then drank heavily with the ink seller. Afterward, he went home and fell into a deep sleep. In the middle of the night, someone suddenly knocked at the door. It was the ink seller. He returned Wang’s three thousand coins, then took his leave. At dawn, Wang looked at the ink stick and found that it had turned into a piece of fine purple gold, pure in color, with the character “Lü” engraved on it. Wang searched everywhere for the ink seller but never saw him again.

When Lü Dongbin, an immortal in Daoist legend, visited Tianxin Bridge in Wuchang, he concealed his real name and tried to sell a broken wooden comb for a thousand coins. For several months, no one bought it. He saw an elderly woman in her eighties begging in the street. She was frail with age, and her hair was sparse and white. He said, “People in the world see only what is before them and cling to what is familiar. I ask such a high price for something broken and useless for a reason. Yet among all these thousands, not one sees beyond ordinary judgment. How could I discuss the Dao with them?”

Then Lü Dongbin used the comb to comb the woman’s hair. As he combed, her hair gradually grew back, and black locks fell to the ground. Her face, too, grew young. Only then did the crowd take him for an immortal, and they rushed to buy the comb. Lü Dongbin smiled and said, “Those who see do not recognize; those who recognize cannot see.” With that, he tossed the comb beneath the bridge. It turned into a blue dragon and flew away, and Lü Dongbin and the woman vanished as well.

Painting a Mountain at Luofu

Lü Dongbin visited Zhuming Abbey on Mount Luofu and came to a small hermitage. The Daoist priest happened to be away, and only a young attendant was there. The attendant bowed and invited him to sit, then secretly brought out the priest’s wine to serve him. After Lü Dongbin had finished drinking, he offered the remaining wine to the attendant, who refused. The attendant had long suffered from an internal eye disorder in his left eye that impaired his vision. Lü Dongbin dripped the leftover wine into it, and the eye suddenly became clear, as though it had never been ill.

Next, Lü Dongbin took a brush and painted a mountain on the wall, then painted three pools beneath it. He said to the attendant, “If you drink my wine, you can become an immortal. If you do not, that is your fate, but you will still live a very long life.” Having said this, he flew into the stone wall and disappeared.

When the priest returned, he saw that the landscape painting showed through the wall and could be seen from both sides. Greatly astonished, he said, “The three pools beneath the mountain together form the character ‘cha.’ Could that have been Master Lü?” The attendant later lived to the age of 105 before he died.

Tempering a Sword at Mount Lu

When Lü Dongbin visited the Zhenji Abbey on Mount Lu in Jiangzhou, he ground and tempered his sword beside the steps. The Daoist Hou Yonghui asked him, “What do you use your sword for, sir?” Lü Dongbin replied, “To cut down every injustice in the world.” Amazed, Hou Yonghui prepared wine and fruit and invited him to drink. “You have a refined, otherworldly appearance,” he said. “Surely you are not of this earthly realm.” Lü Dongbin answered, “Just enjoy the wine. There’s no need to ask where I come from.”

After he was drunk, Lü Dongbin used the end of his chopsticks to write a “Sword Poem” on the wall:

“To sharpen a keen sword, how could I fear hard work?

At dawn I open the sword case, and the jade dragon lets out a long cry.

Qi coils around the blade in my hand; its cold light gleams like three feet of ice.

The sword holds the Stone King’s awesome power, like a numinous serpent.

The blood of the wicked flows away silently with the running water;

The cruel and powerful, too, will perish beneath the sword’s stroke.

Let us sweep away the world’s injustices, then rise together to the highest heavens.”

When he finished, the wall seemed at first to bear no writing. Then light began to shimmer along the edges of the ink, and the characters sank into the wall. Deeply astonished, Hou Yonghui hurried to pay his respects and asked about the sword in the poem. Lü Dongbin said, “There is the Dao sword, and there is the ritual sword. The Dao sword can enter and leave the formless; the ritual sword is used for protection and governance. The ritual sword is familiar to ordinary people and can only banish demons and ward off evil.”

Hou Yonghui asked, “If you used the Dao sword among a crowd to destroy wicked people, wouldn’t that horrify the world?” Lü Dongbin replied, “A person takes Shen as the mother and Qi as the child. When Shen remains, Qi gathers; when Shen departs, Qi disperses. Remove his Shen, and his Qi will disperse with it; the person will naturally perish. Those who act through another person’s body are subject to the same principle.”

Hou Yonghui exclaimed, “These are truly the words of an immortal. May I ask your honored name?” Lü Dongbin said, “My surname is Lü, and my name is Dongbin.” With that, he tossed his sword into the air and rose away on it.

Scattering Coins in Guangling

Lü Dongbin often wandered through the city of Guangling, scattering ten thousand coins among its streets and lanes. When he returned the following evening to check, those who had gone to collect the coins had already picked them all up. Only three coins remained, so he left.

Lü Dongbin often wandered through the city of Guangling, scattering ten thousand coins in its streets and lanes. When he returned the following evening to check, he found that nearly all the coins had been picked up. Only three remained: one had landed in the mud, one in a patch of grass, and one had fallen into a gap between the bricks and stones beside a well, about three inches from its mouth. At last, two people came to draw water. When they spotted the coin, they both rushed to grab it. Lü Dongbin sighed, “The world’s attachment to money has reached such an extreme.”

Mud Turns into Incense

During the Song dynasty, Zhang Tianjue served as prime minister. One day, a Daoist whose clothing was indistinct and hard to make out came to his door to ask for alms. Zhang Tianjue did not treat him courteously, and even mockingly asked what immortal arts he could perform. The Daoist replied that he could turn mud into incense. Zhang Tianjue then asked him to demonstrate on the spot.

A moment later, the incense smoke had dispersed and the Daoist had vanished, leaving only a poem on the table: “There is a reason mud turns to incense; in this world, things are better treated as appearances than taken for real. The prime minister Zhang Tianjue is none other than Lü Dongbin, wandering throughout the world.” The poem revealed that the Daoist was Lü Dongbin and pointed out that “mud turning to incense” was the transformation he had performed.

Water Turns into Wine

Ma Shan was from Dongdu. Early in the Xining era, he sat the jinshi examinations but did not pass, so he began studying the Dao. One day, he and a Daoist named Hou were walking along the Bian River when they met a feathered adept, a Daoist practitioner, wearing a blue headcloth and a cloth robe. He was handsome, with unusual features, bright eyes like water, and a face free of dust. Ma Shan invited him for tea and then asked him to stay for a meal.

Daoist Hou was usually cautious, so he reproached Ma Shan for readily inviting a stranger in. The feathered adept said, “I know the method of long life and immortality.” Daoist Hou asked him to explain. The adept asked what skills he had. Daoist Hou replied, “I can draw talismans to summon ghosts, turn stones into gold, and make lost money and treasures reappear.” The adept said, “None of those things is the true Way.” Daoist Hou asked what abilities he himself had. The adept replied, “I can make my Qi (vital energy) abundant and my spirit clear.”

Daoist Hou asked how he could make his Qi abundant. The adept told him to watch closely. He exhaled toward a wine shop, and from dozens of yards away the candle flame went out at once. Then he blew toward Daoist Hou. It felt like a fierce wind rushing straight at him, so cold that he could barely stand. The two men rose and thanked him, saying, “Sir, you are no ordinary person. We beg you to instruct us.”

The adept said, “To study the way of the immortals, you must accumulate merit and good deeds. Merit means diligent, arduous cultivation; good deeds mean helping others and bringing benefit to all things.” Daoist Hou said, “I often use medicines to save people. Does that not count as merit?” The adept replied, “You harm living beings to save human lives: you kill them to preserve others. It would be better to treat illness using only talisman water.” Talisman water is water empowered through Fulu (talismans and registers) in Daoist ritual, often used to pray for relief from illness.

They talked until dawn. The adept took his leave, saying he was returning to the banks of the Xiang River. He invited the two men to drink beneath the willows and bid him farewell, then gave Daoist Hou a hundred gold coins to buy wine. The shop had no wine, so the adept took out a bottle and told Daoist Hou to fill it with Bian River water. He dropped in a pill, and the water at once became fine wine. The three drank together until they were thoroughly drunk. The adept left them a poem: “Three mouths share one chamber; beside the chamber, the water is especially clear. Born to roam the world—this is both my surname and my name.” After they parted, the two men pondered the poem and realized that he was Lü Dongbin.

Ink Transformed into Gold

It was only in his later years that Han Qi, a distinguished minister of the Northern Song who was posthumously honored as Duke Zhongxian of Han, began receiving Daoist adepts. Lü Dongbin, an immortal from Daoist legend, came to call wearing ragged clothes and covered in grime. Han Qi looked down on him and asked, “What can you do?” Lü Dongbin replied, “I can make ink.” Han Qi told him to give it a try and immediately dug a pit. When Han Qi became displeased, Lü Dongbin kneaded the earth from the pit into a lump of ink and said, “It’s done.” Then he left. Han Qi slowly picked up the ink to examine it and discovered that it was fine gold, with the character “Lü” on it. When he broke it open, the grain of the gold was clearly visible. Han Qi deeply regretted what he had done.

Square Holes in Paper

Zhao Yingdao, an official overseeing the Court of Works, contracted malaria and became gravely ill. Weeping, he said farewell to his family and friends: “I fear I am going to die. The things in my inner chambers can all be given up, but my elderly parents, with their white hair, have no one to care for them. What will become of them?” Before he had finished speaking, a Daoist knocked at the door and said to Zhao Yingdao, “Your illness will not be difficult to cure.” The Daoist took two sheets of paper and cut a square hole into each, in the paper foil, about two feet across. He handed them to Zhao Yingdao and said, “When night falls, burn one to ash, mix it with an infusion of frankincense, and apply it to the afflicted area. Keep the other for someone to use in the future.” With that, the Daoist vanished. Only then did Zhao Yingdao understand that the two square holes, put together, formed the character “Lü.”

Square Holes in Stone

Lou Daoming of Zitong came from a wealthy family and excelled in the arts of Xuansu, a technique that used sexual union between men and women as a method of cultivation. He kept ten young women in his household. Whenever one became pregnant, he sent her away and brought in a replacement, thereby keeping the number at ten. He took turns having sex with them day and night without ever resting, yet remained mentally clear and physically strong, with a ruddy complexion. At times he went all day without eating. He lived to the age of ninety-seven, but looked about thirty.

Lou Daoming especially liked to boast and tell outrageous tales. When drinking with guests, he would sometimes say that the wine had been sent by the Dark Lady, a legendary female immortal; at other times, that the fruit had been sent by the Plain Lady, another legendary female immortal. He also claimed that Pengzu, Rongcheng, and others had left him letters. He believed he had become a true immortal.

One day, Lü Dongbin came to his door disguised as a beggar. Lou Daoming did not recognize him and ordered him away. Lü Dongbin placed both feet on a rock, and two square indentations, about three inches deep, appeared in its surface. Only then did Lou Daoming react with astonishment. He hurriedly invited him to sit beside him and said, “You are no beggar.” He had a maid sing “Song of Wandering among the Immortals,” then invited Lü Dongbin to drink.

Lü Dongbin improvised a poem in the tune “Gazing at the Southern River” in reply:

“Above the Jade Pond, auspicious clouds veil the assembled immortals. A golden youth, holding white silk, strikes a phoenix-shaped clapper; a jade maiden in blue plays a luan-shaped reed pipe. Dwelling in the Great Luo Heaven, the highest celestial realm in Daoist teaching, I grow intoxicated and seem to reach the misty Jade Capital Mountain. The ‘Steps into the Void,’ an immortal’s song chanted in Daoist purification rituals, has ended, and the banquet is over. Who knows what year it is tonight, or how many times the sea has turned into mulberry fields?”

A maid brought paper made in Shu and asked Lü Dongbin to write on it. Starting at the end of the sheet, he wrote backward all the way to its beginning. The characters were packed tightly together, leaving no empty space. Lou Daoming was delighted. Hoping to take advantage of the wine and ask him for the essentials of Daoist cultivation, he asked for guidance. Lü Dongbin replied, “I have already imparted it to you face to face.” Lou Daoming asked again, but Lü Dongbin repeated, “I have already imparted it to you face to face.”

Before long, Lü Dongbin rose to the treetop of the large catalpa tree outside the door and vanished in an instant. A few days later, Lou Daoming suddenly fell ill. He vomited several dou of a silvery, paste-like substance and then died. The story says that the character yin in “imparted face to face,” which can mean transmission or descendants, and the two square indentations left in the rock were both visual hints at the character Lü.

Immortal music lent the gathering its festive air.

Chen Gong Zhizhong built a magnificent residence in the eastern capital, Luoyang. As his friends and relatives were gathered in celebration, feasting and drinking, a Daoist in shabby clothes suddenly arrived. It was Lü Dongbin. Chen Gong asked what he could do. The Daoist replied, “I have a piece of immortal music I would like to perform to enliven this feast.”

He took a scroll from his waist and hung it on a pillar. In the painting were twelve fairies, each holding a different musical instrument. The Daoist called them down, and one by one they came before the guests. Two fairies led the way, holding banners, while the others played music. Their skin was pale and their faces beautiful; their expressions were dignified, and their voices delicate. They wore crowns adorned with the Seven Treasures and six-zhu robes—celestial garments said to be as light as cicada wings. Gold ornaments and jade pendants adorned them, chiming as they turned and moved. Each wore a yellow jade ornament the size of a millet grain on her nose. Their bodies seemed light and insubstantial, nothing like those of ordinary people. The music rang clear, as if reaching into the clouds, and its melodies were wonderfully strange.

After they had played three pieces, Chen Gong asked, “Who are these women?” The Daoist said, “They are the Jade Maidens of the Six Jia and Six Ding, divine generals in Daoism who guard and serve. When people succeed in cultivating the Dao, the three hun and seven po souls within them, along with the spirits of the five organs and six viscera, all take forms like these. Would you like to learn the Dao?”

Chen Gong took it for an illusion and was inwardly unconvinced. The Daoist turned to the fairies and said, “You may return.” They all went back into the scroll. The Daoist took it down, opened his mouth and swallowed it. Then he asked for paper and a brush and wrote a poem:

“After enduring three thousand kalpas in Heaven, I have spent five hundred years among humankind.

The blade at my waist flashes with violet lightning; blue smoke rises from the fire in my elixir furnace.

I have just ridden a white deer across the sea, then mounted a green ox and entered a celestial grotto.

These little tricks are merely for amusement; it is a pity that no one knows I am a true immortal.”

At the end of the poem, he signed his name, “Valley Guest.” The Daoist then went out and soon vanished. Only then did Chen Gong realize that “Valley Guest” was Lü Dongbin. He regretted it bitterly, almost wishing he could gouge out his own eyes. Not long afterward, Chen Gong died.

A man in Lüjiang who knew a little about Daoist arts spoke of them casually, as if in jest. He had no idea that the true immortal was right there before him. At the end was written, “Written by Guke.” As soon as the man stepped outside, he quickly vanished. Only then did Mr. Chen realize that Guke was Lü Dongbin. He regretted it so bitterly that he wanted to gouge out his own eyes, and he died not long afterward.

A Brush Handle Floats on the Waves

In Lüjiang there was a brush maker named Zhai who enjoyed welcoming practitioners of esoteric arts. Lü Dongbin came to visit, and Zhai invited him to stay in his home, treating him with great courtesy. The two kept company for more than a year.

One day, Lü Dongbin took Zhai to the riverside, broke a brush handle in two, and set the pieces on the water. He stepped onto one piece and motioned for Zhai to do the same. Afraid, Zhai did not dare approach. Lü Dongbin laughed, walked across the water to the opposite bank, and vanished in an instant. Only then did Zhai realize he was an extraordinary being.

About ten days later, Lü Dongbin returned. He brought food for Zhai himself, but it was all rotten and foul-smelling. Covering his nose, Zhai declined to eat. Lü Dongbin sighed and said, “Since you cannot bear this food, I will give you two jars of meat sauce.” Then he left and never appeared again. When Zhai opened the jars, they were filled with pieces of gold. “Two jars” probably refers to two large earthenware vessels or something similar.

The Fish Comes Back to Life

While visiting a wine shop on Mount Lu, Lü Dongbin saw someone cutting open a fish to make fish slices. Lü Dongbin said, “I can bring this fish back to life.” The person preparing it did not believe him. Lü Dongbin placed a pill in the fish’s belly. A little while later, the fish began to twitch as though alive. Astonished, the fishmonger put it in the river. The fish swam freely and glided away into the distance. When he looked for Lü Dongbin again, the man had disappeared.

A Precious Wheel Appears

During the Shaoxing era, a county magistrate who was fond of Daoist arts held a large Zhaijiao (purification ritual) at Baolu Palace. He summoned many practitioners of esoteric arts, each to display their abilities. Lü Dongbin concealed his true name, lodged there, and also boasted that his abilities were extraordinary.

He placed a little medicinal powder in his palm and blew on it several times. Before long, red light spread in every direction, taking the shape of a precious wheel, with the two characters “Dongbin” appearing upon it. Everyone was astonished. When they went to look for him, he had already vanished.

In the Hall of True Immortals at Changzhou’s Tianqing Temple stands a statue of Lü Dongbin. Each day, a child who sold indigo plants passed by. The statue’s bearing inspired his reverence, and he would often linger, circling it and reluctant to leave. It is said that each time he walked around it, the characters “Dongbin” appeared before the statue. Everyone was astonished. When they went looking for the child, he was nowhere to be found.

The Child Transforms into a Crane

In the Hall of True Immortals at Changzhou’s Tianqing Temple stands a statue of Lü Dongbin. Each day, a child who sold indigo plants passed by. The statue inspired his reverence, and he would often circle it and gaze at it, reluctant to leave. One day, as the child looked at the statue, he sighed and asked a question. Suddenly, the statue stirred slightly and beckoned him over. It took out a coin to buy the child’s indigo plants, but the child refused payment and gave it all the indigo stalks in his basket.

The statue’s face lit with delight. It gave the child a red pill and told him to swallow it. At once, the child felt dazed, as if drunk. When he got home, he asked for paper and a brush and began to write. His prose and calligraphy were both outstanding, and he knew everything about astronomy and geography. He ate no cooked food and drank only wine and ate dates. He lived this way for more than a year.

Later, he heard that a condemned prisoner was to be executed at the marketplace and hurried there to watch. As the execution took place, something suddenly struck his left cheek from the air, and a small crane flew out from the corner of his mouth. He touched his cheek and found that one half had withered. After that, he returned to his former state, once again an ordinary, dull-witted person.

One day, Wang San of Xianju, Taizhou, went into town and saw a beggar selling a clay statue of Master Lü. He bought it and brought it home to worship, burning incense and bowing with great devotion. His son, who was about ten years old, also paid his respects every day.

Once, while the boy was herding cattle on a hillside, he saw a Daoist in white passing by. He immediately jumped down from the back of an ox, caught hold of the man’s robe, and called him Master Lü. The Daoist asked, “Why do you call me that? And why do you worship me every day?”

The boy replied, “You look just like the deity we worship at home, in both face and clothing. You’re simply taller.”

The Daoist smiled, placed a copper coin in the boy’s hand, and instructed him, “Whenever you want to buy something to eat, just use this coin. Once you’ve spent it, another will appear in your hand. But don’t tell anyone.” Delighted, the boy went home and quietly told his father, then opened his hand to show him. Each time he spent a coin, another did indeed appear in his hand.

A little over a month later, the father suddenly grew greedy. He set a basket beside the boy and ordered him to keep brushing his hand over it. Copper coins fell into the basket. By the third day, they had collected more than ten thousand coins. The next day, the coins stopped appearing.

Bing Shop Ximu

When Qingcheng held a Daoist purification assembly, tens of thousands of people attended. The local people of the county often put up temporary shelters at the foot of the mountain to serve vegetarian meals, tea, and fruit.

Bing Shop Ximu

When the Qingcheng Daoist gathering was held, tens of thousands of people attended. County residents often put up temporary shelters at the foot of the mountain, where they served vegetarian meals, tea, and fruit. One family ran a pastry shop and prayed for business to prosper.

One day, a customer came into the shop drunk. He babbled and behaved wildly, and even soiled the area outside the shop. The shopkeeper was at a loss. He offered the man money, but he refused it; he offered him pastries to eat, but he refused those too.

Some time earlier, a strong wind had toppled a large tree. The residents sawed its trunk into two benches and set them beside the shop for passersby to rest on. The shop was far from the river. The shopkeeper had just drawn two buckets of water and had not yet put them to use when the drunk suddenly got up, tied some thatch into a brush, dipped it in the water, and scrubbed the wooden benches. He scrubbed them for a long time, then splashed water over them. People passing by saw this and were disgusted; when they reached the shop entrance, they turned around and left. Not a single pastry was sold all day.

The drunk was about to leave too. As he went, he said to the shopkeeper, “Don’t be angry with me. I’ll bring you money tomorrow to make up for it. Tomorrow, you’ll sell twice as many pastries.” With that, he left.

Later, someone went over to sit on a bench and saw that its surface gleamed. Four characters, “Mr. Lü is born,” were written on it in heavy ink. Someone tried scraping them off with a knife, but the more he scraped, the clearer the writing became. They then examined the underside of the wood and found the same words on both sides. A crowd gathered all around. From then on, the shop did indeed sell a great many pastries.

This happened in the second month of the thirty-second year of the Shaoxing era (1162). Wen Shouqing said he had seen the drunk man washing the benches with his own eyes; at the time, the man was a thin Daoist.

Hua Yizhu adds this account.

In the twenty-eighth year of the Shaoxing era in the Southern Song, a merchant from Huating was transporting ten thousand rush mats to Lin’an. His boat was packed full. As it set off from the Western Stockade at dusk, a Daoist called out from the bank, hoping to travel with him. The merchant said, “The boat is already crammed, and there isn’t even room to spend the night. I’ll have to stand out in the open myself. How could I make room for you?”

The Daoist said, “I’ll give you a thousand coins. Just leave me a space the size of one mat.” The merchant asked, “What if it rains?” The Daoist replied, “I’ll give you another hundred coins to buy a mat. I’ll cover myself with it if it rains.”

Lured by the money, the merchant let the Daoist aboard. The Daoist sat on a rush mat in a space so narrow he could only sit with his knees drawn up. The merchant never saw him eat or relieve himself, and it did not rain during the journey. Near the Northern Gate—that is, the gate on the north side of Lin’an’s imperial city—the Daoist took his leave, saying, “Thank you for giving me a ride. I’ll make sure you earn an extra twenty thousand coins in return.” The merchant did not understand what he meant.

That year, a suburban sacrifice was held, the state ceremony for worshipping Heaven and Earth outside the city, and a major rite was also performed at Qingcheng. A great many rush mats were needed. Worried that supplies would run short, the Lin’an prefecture bought every mat brought to the city by merchants, paying two extra coins for each one. The merchant therefore earned an additional twenty thousand coins. After his mats had been unloaded, he noticed that six large characters had been written in ink on the bottom mat: “Lü Dongbin once rode this boat.” The handwriting was bold and forceful. Curious onlookers flocked to see it, and only then did people realize that the Daoist who had taken passage was the immortal elder Lü Dongbin.

The next day, the merchant went into the city. Passing over Zhong’an Bridge, he saw the Daoist selling ginger in the market. He bowed and said, “So you are Master Lü. Surely you can turn things into gold? Please give me some.” The Daoist smiled and said, “Watch my ginger for me. I’ll go back to the shop to fetch gold, and I’ll be right back.” The merchant waited until evening, but the Daoist did not return. He had no choice but to load the ginger onto a cart and take it home. The merchant was an ordinary man, and he did not regret what had happened. Everyone who heard the story was amazed.

An Immortal’s Portrait, Drawn in a Drunken State

In Yuan’an County, Ezhou, there lived a man named Min Duyan, who was a devout believer in the immortals and Buddhas. He once held a Pure Yang gathering for Lü Weng (Lü Dongbin), which many Daoist priests attended. After the vegetarian meal, an old soldier came in from outside. He wore a blue robe and hemp sandals, and carried two bamboo baskets on a shoulder pole. Setting down his load, he sat and called out for food. The others tried to drive him away, but he refused to leave. The host had some leftovers and gave them to him. The soldier then asked for wine. The host brought a small pot, which he drained in one gulp. The host refilled it several times, and each time the soldier emptied it just as quickly. Astonished by his capacity for wine, the host asked if he could drink any more. “This is exactly what I’ve been hoping for,” the soldier replied, “but wine is expensive in your household, so I don’t dare ask for more.” Whenever wine was put into his hands, he drank every last drop.

The soldier slowly asked what kind of religious gathering was taking place that day. After the host explained, he said, “If the Perfected Lü himself came here, would you recognize him?” The host pointed to a portrait on the wall. The soldier smiled and said, “My appearance and clothes are nothing like those in the portrait. Give me five feet of silk, and I’ll paint one for you.”

The host was delighted and immediately handed him the silk. The soldier took it but used neither brush nor ink. Spreading the silk in his hands, he suddenly began to vomit and wiped it with the cloth. At first the host was disgusted. Thinking the man must be drunk, he felt there was nothing he could do. The onlookers cursed him and left. After a long while, the soldier placed the silk in an empty frame, clasped his hands in farewell, and departed.

A boy took the silk from the frame and unfolded it. A portrait of Lü the Immortal had been painted upon it. The clothing, shoes, and knotted garments in the portrait were exactly like those worn by the old soldier. Only then did everyone realize that the Perfected One had come among them. They regretted failing to recognize him, had the portrait mounted, and hung it up with reverence.

This took place in the seventh year of the Chunxi era (1180), as recounted by Zou Jianshan, registrar of Xinchang County.

In the sixteenth year of the Shaoxing era, Wang Yinzhu served as an inspector in the Hubei Judicial Commission, an official post in a judicial oversight agency, and was lodging temporarily at the shop of Zhang, known as the Fourth. Du Changyan, a native of Wuling, had a small garden where flowers of many kinds were in bloom. On the sixth day of the third month, he invited Wang Yinzhu, Zhang, and two or three other guests to drink together.

When they were halfway through the wine, each guest picked three sprays of thorny rose and tucked them into his headcloth. Just then, a Daoist in blue robes, wearing a straw rain cape and carrying a bamboo hat on his back, approached them. He seemed to have something hidden in his sleeve. Bowing to the group, he said, “You are gathered here enjoying a fine drink. May I join you?” Du Changyan invited him to sit and poured him a large cup of wine. The Daoist drained it in one go, then ate great mouthfuls of meat until not a scrap remained. He set down his chopsticks with a smile, looking gentle and amiable.

The Daoist said he wished to offer the group a toast in celebration of their longevity. Du Changyan asked him to wait, but the Daoist replied that he had brought wine of his own and could return the toast. As he spoke, he took out a tin flask, about two pints in capacity, and poured wine for each guest. They had no choice but to accept. Though it had not been heated, the wine was warm and had a clean, mellow taste. Du Changyan found this strange and peered into the flask. There was still about a cup of wine left inside. The Daoist asked if he could drink another cup. Du Changyan said he would be glad to, and after finishing it joked, “How much wine can this flask hold? No matter how much you pour, it never runs out. Could you be Master Lü Dongbin?”

“You’ve never met Elder Lü,” the Daoist said. “How do you know it’s me?” Then he laughed and asked the others whether they would like to see something remarkable. He untied the bamboo hat from his back and tossed it into the air, then sprang more than a zhang upward, leapt onto a white crane, and flew away. The tin flask vanished with him.

Treading Money into Stone (pressing money into stone by stepping on it)

During the Jingta years of the Song dynasty, a shop on Qianjie Street in Shaowu, run by a family surnamed Yin, sold incense and paper offerings. The family often gave money to Daoists traveling from place to place, offering three coins each time and never tiring of doing so.

One day, a Daoist came begging for money with a ji fan in his hand. Yin was troubled by something else and let his anger show. He tossed three coins into the fan one after another, but they immediately fell to the ground. The Daoist stepped on the coins, ignored them, and walked away. Yin picked them up himself, only to find that they had become firmly embedded in the bricks and could not be moved. The onlookers were astonished, and in the blink of an eye the Daoist had vanished. Yin used a hoe to chisel out the brick and found a poem written on its reverse:

“My lifelong wish has been to save three thousand souls,

Yet even now I have not fulfilled it.

I came here with this fan for a reason,

But alas, Yin lacks the bones to become an immortal.”

The poem means: “My greatest wish in life has been to guide three thousand people to salvation, but to this day I have not achieved it. I brought this fan here for a particular reason; alas, Yin has no inborn capacity to become an immortal.”

The brick is now built into the City God Temple.

Manifesting Under a Changed Name—Sixteen Accounts

When Lü Dongbin traveled through Jiangxia, he went by the assumed name Lü Yuan’gui. He often visited a local family surnamed Yang, predicting people’s fortunes and misfortunes with unfailing accuracy. One day, he suddenly took his leave, saying, “A wicked man is coming. I must hide.” That evening, Yu Lu, an official responsible for criminal investigations, was ordered to go to Ezhou on business. His first task was to find Lü Yuan’gui, but he discovered that Lü had already disappeared. Yu sought out Cen Wenxiu, who had often associated with Lü Yuan’gui, and pressed him to say what he had received from Lü. Cen replied that he had received nothing. Yu threatened him angrily with a beating, but Cen stuck to his answer.

Yu ordered a search of Cen’s home. There they found a long poem Lü Yuan’gui had left behind, describing the practice of Neidan (internal alchemy). After reading it, Yu suddenly understood and said, “This is Mr. Lü.” The name “Yuan’gui” had been made by taking the characters in “Mr. Lü” and rearranging them to form an assumed name. The “wicked man” Lü Dongbin had spoken of was Yu Lu, who had interrogated Cen Wenxiu.

The Daoist Si Tun Qian

In Jinling there was an elderly man known as Wan Tie. His given name was Yushi. He was kindhearted and admired Daoist arts. He made his living through fuji, a spirit-writing practice in which a sieve-like instrument is held up to receive messages from spirits. Each time he performed it, Patriarch Lü would manifest.

The Elder Wan Tie of Jinling, present-day Nanjing, whose courtesy name was Yushi, had a mild and honest disposition and admired the Daoist arts. He made his living by summoning spirits through planchette writing, using a spirit-writing stylus to seek divine messages. Whenever he performed a séance, Ancestor Lü (Lü Dongbin) would appear. One day he dreamed that Ancestor Lü explained the Eight Trigrams to him. In another dream, Lü said that a guest would come on a certain day carrying a letter, which Wan could ask to have. When that day arrived, a guest indeed came, and Wan obtained the letter from him. It contained a method of divination, and Wan thereafter told fortunes for people for more than ten years.

In the gengwu year of the Longqing era (1570), Wan Tie suffered partial paralysis. His left arm was wrapped in a silk band, and he leaned on a cane when walking. On the morning of the twenty-first day of the eleventh month, he was traveling by sedan chair past Pude Temple. As he stepped down, he saw a Daoist. The man called him “old fellow,” and Wan replied, “I had the misfortune to suffer partial paralysis, which is why I have become like this.” The Daoist said sternly, “What do you mean by partial paralysis? When a tree’s branches and leaves flourish on one side and wither on the other, that is called one-sided withering, caused by an excess of Fire qi. How could a person be like that?” The Daoist asked when the illness had begun. Wan answered, “On the twenty-first day of the seventh month this year.” The Daoist said, “This is a sign of ‘dense clouds without rain.’” Wan asked, “Can medicine cure it?” “No,” said the Daoist. “Can moxibustion cure it?” Again the Daoist said, “No.” Wan asked, “Then how do you make a living?” The Daoist replied, “I beg in the marketplace.” Seeing a gourd tied to his body, Wan asked, “Do you use the gourd when you beg for food?” The Daoist said, “Yes.”

Wan asked the Daoist’s surname. “Qian,” he replied. Wan then asked his Daoist name. “Situn,” he said. Wan asked, “What does ‘tun’ mean? Why do you reflect on hardship?” The Daoist said, “‘Tun’ means hardship in the language of principle. To reflect on hardship is to keep it constantly in mind. I began following my master when I was six, so I know nothing of women. As for wine, wealth, and anger, I have some involvement with them, but I can find ways to let them go. I did not fall ill because of them as you have.” The Daoist fell silent in thought for a long while, then explained the meaning of “tun” again. Afterward he said, “Your illness now comes from your Liver qi. That is what ‘tun’ means.” He then told Wan, “Old fellow, take a walk on the bridge.” Without realizing it, Wan began walking with his cane and passed through the temple’s east gate. The Daoist told him to go a little farther, but Wan protested that he could not walk. The Daoist seemed to give him a slight pull with his hand, and Wan found himself walking from the bridge to a rock between two flowering plants, where he sat leaning against a tree.

The Daoist felt Wan’s lower back and kidneys and asked, “Does it ache?” Wan said, “No.” When the Daoist felt his knee, Wan said, “Now it aches.” Seeing the silk band wrapped around Wan’s arm, the Daoist put his hand inside Wan’s clothing and felt along his body three times, from top to bottom. “Fortunately, you are thin. Your illness can be cured,” he said. He added, “The Fire qi in all your five organs is excessive. You need no medicine; only Wuyi tea can clear it. The best leaves grow on branches facing southeast. Boil them in spring water from a mountain stream, and the leaves will stand straight upright. If you use well water, they will lie sideways.”

Moved by the Daoist’s kindness, Wan asked where he lived. “At Qingyuan Temple. You can go there and ask for the Daoist Situn Qian,” the man said, then took his leave. When Wan returned home, his pain subsided at once, and he could walk as usual again. Later, Mao Chou heard what had happened and asked in astonishment how it could be explained. Wan said, “You encountered an immortal. ‘Si’ can be interpreted as ‘silk,’ and ‘tun’ as ‘pure’; ‘Qian’ belongs to Yang. The one you met was Ancestor Lü.” Mao then went to Qingyuan Temple to pay a visit, but found only a statue of Ancestor Lü enshrined there.

When Teng Zongliang (courtesy name Zijing) was demoted to serve as governor of Baling, Lü Dongbin appeared as a Daoist priest called “Returning Daoist” and came to pay him a visit. He was handsome and upright in bearing, and exceptionally quick-witted in conversation. Teng sensed that he was no ordinary man and immediately composed a poem for him: “The Returning Daoist comes from Huazhou and arrives in Yiyang. Where will you go after leaving me? May you fly freely in every direction, like a sword across the autumn sky.”

Lü Dongbin laughed loudly, then vanished. Teng had someone paint his portrait and hung it in Yueyang Tower.

More than a dozen Daoist priests at Taiping Palace in Jiangzhou gathered in the storeroom. Just then, a visitor calling himself “Reverting Daoist” (Hui Daoren), an assumed name used by Lü Dongbin during his travels, strode in, swinging his arms and surveying everyone with an air of arrogance. The others murmured among themselves: “There are boastful impostors everywhere, borrowing this name to make themselves seem important. They’re only deceiving ordinary people. Why should we pay him any attention?” They all left. Only Hu Yongzong bowed to the visitor, invited him into a small room, and received him with composure. Hu sensed that the man had an extraordinary bearing and treated him with particular respect.

After a while, the visitor asked for wine. Hu looked around but could find no drinking vessel, so he scraped some dirt off a knife and dripped wine onto it for the visitor to rinse his mouth. The visitor collected the rinse in his palm, kneaded it, and blew on it. It turned into an ingot of ink, which he tossed onto the table with a clear, ringing sound. He said to Hu, “Keep it safe. Taking it can also cure illness.” Hu picked it up and saw that it gave off a rich fragrance, almost beyond comparison with orchids or musk.

The visitor then invited Hu upstairs to drink. Hu declined, saying it was already late, and the visitor left with a smile. The next day, Hu hurried to the prefectural city. He reached the gate before dawn and happened to meet the visitor coming out, who turned back and smiled at him. The gatekeepers said that Reverting Daoist had been waiting there since midnight for the gates to open. Hu was even more astonished. When he returned, he examined the borrowed knife and found that half its blade had turned to gold. He took a little of the ink ingot the visitor had left behind. Many years later, his appearance still showed no obvious signs of aging, and his capacity for wine continued to increase.

Some time later, Reverting Daoist came again, wearing a shabby short jacket and hat, with a rope around his waist and two pots slung from a carrying pole on his shoulder. Hu asked what was inside them. When he opened them, he found they were filled with medicinal silver—a legendary silver made by refining a special medicine. Only then did he realize that he had encountered the real Master Lü. He received him with the formalities due a teacher and earnestly asked him about the art of longevity.

One line of verse says, “It is even more like meeting Lord Lü’s boat once again at the port of Nan Jin.” Hu Yongzong’s grandson once brought out a portrait of the “Old Man in the Yellow Jacket” painted by his grandfather. He said that the figure in the painting truly had an elegant, lofty bearing, set apart from the ordinary.

Reverting Daoist

When Lü Dongbin traveled through Changsha, he once used the assumed name Reverting Daoist and demonstrated the art of turning tiles into silver. One line in the piece says, “It is even more like meeting Lord Lü’s boat once again at the port of Nan Jin.” Hu Yongzong’s grandson once brought out a portrait of the Old Man in the Yellow Jacket painted by his grandfather, saying that the figure in it truly had an elegant, lofty bearing unlike that of ordinary people.

When Lü Dongbin was traveling in Changsha, he disguised himself as a Daoist surnamed Hui and went about asking people for money with a small earthenware jar. Though people kept giving him money, the jar never seemed to fill, and everyone thought him uncanny.

One day, sitting by the roadside, he said, “Whoever can fill my jar, I will pass the Dao on to.” People threw money into it one after another, but it still would not fill. A monk pushed over a cart piled with money and laughed. “Can this jar hold all that?” The Daoist nodded. The monk pushed the cart toward the jar’s mouth. Its wheels creaked, and in an instant both the cart and the money had disappeared.

The monk asked, “Are you an immortal, or someone skilled in illusion?” The Daoist casually recited a poem: “I am neither immortal nor practitioner of occult arts; I wield no magic and perform no transformations. Even Heaven and Earth will one day end; the vast sea becomes mulberry fields—who knows how many changes have passed? My body was never truly mine, so why cling to wealth? Why not travel with me, riding a whale freely through Heaven and Earth?”

The monk grew even more astonished and tried to seize the Daoist. “Are you unwilling to part with this money?” the Daoist said. “I’ll return it to you now.” He tossed a scrap of paper into the jar and recited, “Quickly, push the cart out.” A long time passed, but the cart did not appear. The Daoist then said, “It seems I’ll have to fetch it myself.” He jumped into the jar and vanished.

The monk smashed the earthenware jar. He found only a scrap of paper bearing a poem: “To seek the true Dao, one must discern what is true; even seeing the truth does not mean one has truly understood it. When we meet again, with a smile, we will ride the cart onto the level road.” Dejected, the monk went home. Later, when he came to Shuping, he suddenly saw the Daoist again. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time,” the Daoist said. “Here is your cart, with all the money inside. I am Lord Lü. At first I thought you could be guided. But seeing how reluctant you are to part with your wealth, I know you are not suited to learning the Dao.” Only then did the monk regret his choice, but it was too late.

When Lü Dongbin traveled to Taiping Temple, he also appeared in the guise of a Daoist.

The Reclusive Scholar Hui

The Secretariat Drafter Jia Shixiong owned an ancient iron mirror and once considered having it polished.

The Court Gentleman of the Secretariat, Jia Shixiong, owned an ancient iron mirror. He once considered reheating and polishing it. Lü Dongbin, calling himself “the Recluse Hui,” came to visit and asked to borrow the mirror for an experiment. He took a little medicinal powder from a bamboo shoot, spread it over the mirror’s surface, and then took his leave, saying, “Wait here while I fetch some more medicine.” Jia Shixiong ran after him, but Lü Dongbin had already vanished. On the gate of the Taiping Temple where he had been staying, Jia saw this poem:

“In my hand, a green serpent shoots straight toward the white sun; in the cave, immortal fruits are fresh and evergreen. Know that this immortal guest, who dwells beyond the world of dust and travels among rosy clouds and mist, is no ordinary person who polishes mirrors.”

When Jia looked at the mirror again, the medicinal powder had disappeared, and its surface gleamed like jade.

The Recluse Hui

On the nineteenth day of the eighth month of the first year of Xining (1068), someone encountered an elderly man surnamed Shen at Shulin in Huzhou. The old man called himself “the Mountain Recluse Hui.” Using pomegranate bark, he wrote a quatrain on a wall:

“The neighbor to the west is already prosperous, yet still fears having too little; the old man of Shulin, though poor, has joys of his own. Brew fine white wine to welcome the guests you love; give away all your gold just to gather books.”

He also called himself “Old Hui.” For what happened to him afterward, see the entry “Visiting the State Academy of Shi.”

Hui Houyang

When Lü Dongbin was traveling through Qinzhou, he visited the Tianqing Abbey. All the Daoist priests there had gone to a neighboring district to take part in a Zhaijiao purification ritual. Only a young attendant had remained at the abbey. Lü Dongbin asked to borrow his brush so he could write on the wall. The boy said the hall had just been repaired, and his master had warned him not to dirty the walls.

Lü Dongbin then said, “In that case, please add some fuel to the fire in the hall’s censer. I am going to pay my respects to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the three highest deities revered in Daoism.” After the boy left, Lü saw that the pool behind the hall held clear water. Using a melon, he wrote on the wall:

“The clear water in the stone pool reflects my heart, yet the peach blossoms’ reflection stirs my thoughts. As soon as I arrive amid the palaces of the immortal mountains, idle sorrows fade and thoughts grow clear; I pluck the seven-stringed zither.”

He signed the poem “Hui Houyang.” He had written it so high up that no person could have reached it by hand. Everyone was astonished, and only then did they understand that “Hui” was “Lü” written backward, and “Houyang” was also “Lü” written backward.

The Guest of the Valley

During the Yuanfeng era of the Northern Song, there was a Daoist in the capital who called himself Guke (Valley Guest). He drank wine with a commoner named Teng Zhong, and when they parted he gave Teng Zhong a pill. Teng Zhong ordinarily suffered from a wind ailment (the ancients’ term for a class of conditions such as numbness and spasms of the limbs), and after taking it he recovered at once.

Two years after they parted, Teng Zhong met Guke again east of the Kaiming Bridge in Yangzhou. Guke was sitting by the water and beckoned to him. Teng Zhong walked over from the bridge, but when he came close he saw nothing. Only then did he realize that Guke was Lü Dongbin. He was filled with melancholy, and died not long afterward. The earlier accounts—of swallowing a scroll and inscribing a poem, and of the later meeting when he was staying in Tanzhou—also call that Daoist Guke.

The Valley-Guarding Guest

Cui Zhongju passed the jinshi examination. On his way through Baling he stayed at an inn and sang the ci tune “Qinyuan Chun.” Lü Dongbin, who was then hiding in the marketplace under the guise of a shoe mender, heard him and asked what tune he was singing. Cui Zhongju said it was a melody newly popular in the capital.

Lü Dongbin said, “I cannot read; please write down my lyric for me.” Cui Zhongju wrote it down, and it began with “Seven Returns to the Elixir (Qifan Huandan).” “Seven Returns to the Elixir” is a term in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation, referring to the process of refining and nurturing Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) to form the internal elixir. Cui Zhongju asked his surname, and he replied, “I was born at the river mouth, grew up at the mountain mouth, and now I am a valley-guarding guest.”

The next morning, Cui Zhongju told the prefect about this. The prefect recognized the Daoist as Lü Dongbin and quickly sent men to invite him. When they knocked, someone answered from inside, but the voice gradually receded; when they called again, there was no response. They pushed the door open and entered, but the room was already empty. On the wall was a poem:

“The infant in my belly has already been fully nurtured; for now I lodge in the dusty world to seek a little amusement. I did not expect the scholar to be so garrulous and loose-tongued; I have no choice but to enter the depths of the white clouds.”

Cui Zhongju and the prefect could only sigh in regret.

During the Huizong period, there was a Daoist who called himself Chang Xuzhong and often traveled among various Daoist temples. His behavior was strange; he drank a great deal of wine, could eat dozens of jin of raw fish and meat, and could also drink dozens of hu of water. After a heavy rain, heavy snow fell, and the snow on the ground was seven or eight chi deep; he buried himself in the snow and did not come out for more than ten days. When the snow stopped, he rose again and walked on the surface of a deep pool as if walking on flat ground.

He was also skilled in cursive script; his brushstrokes were like withered vines and gossamer, and with one flourish of the brush he would write thousands of characters in an unbroken flow. People vied with one another to bring paper and ask him for an inscription, but he refused to write. Chang was his surname, and Xuzhong his courtesy name.

At Dayu Ridge in Hengpu there was a son of a wealthy family who admired Daoism. He built a hermitage and for many years received wandering Daoist priests from all quarters. One day, just after the assembled people had finished a Huanglu Great Zhaijiao (a major Daoist Zhaijiao ritual for blessings), a Daoist in ragged clothes suddenly appeared and asked them for a vegetarian meal. The people did not show him any compassion; some even bullied and insulted him. The Daoist then wrote a ci poem:

“For the time being I roam Dayu Ridge; / a white crane comes flying— / who is there to speak with me? / The households beside the ridge— / how many times have they seen the cold plum bloom? / Spring comes, spring goes; / people linger amid falling blossoms and flowing water. / Flowers bloom across the road ahead; / immortals hide within them, / yet no one knows.”

After the poem he inscribed five characters—“Wuxin Changlao lai,” meaning “The old man Chang comes without mind”—written in three kinds of brushwork. When he had finished writing, the Daoist entered the Cloud Hall and did not emerge for a long time. When the people went closer to look, they found that he had disappeared; then they looked at his writing, and it had actually penetrated deep through the wall and appeared on the other side. Only then did everyone understand that the saying “Chang with no heart” referred to Lord Lü (Lü Dongbin), and they all sighed with regret.

Suffering from no-mind.

By the great river in Jishui County, Jiangxi, there stood a Xuantan Abbey. One day, all the Daoist priests in the abbey went down the mountain to attend to Zhaijiao (purification ritual) affairs, leaving only a young acolyte to watch over the place. Just then a Daoist priest, wearing a blue headcloth and a white robe, slowly entered the abbey and asked to stay for the night. Seeing that his master was absent, the acolyte declined and would not agree.

The Daoist asked for a brush and wrote a poem on the wall:

“In loose robes I walk slowly, seeking a quiet dwelling;

This tranquil scene—even a whole night’s chanting would not be enough.

The moon is mirrored in the cold pool, clear wind passes through the pine woods—

Why must one insist on the Thirty-Six Grotto-Heavens?”

Having written it, the Daoist threw down the brush and left. The next day, when the priests returned, the acolyte told them what had happened with the Daoist’s request for lodging and the poem. They went to look and saw that the handwriting was extraordinarily free and refined; then they examined the room and found that the ink had actually penetrated through the wall. Only then did they realize that the poem’s author was Patriarch Chunyang (Lü Dongbin).

In the thirty-ninth year of Jiajing (1560), floods spread widely, and the abbey’s buildings collapsed, yet the wall bearing the poem stood alone, and the plaster on the wall had not peeled away. All who saw this found it strange. Later, a local fengshui (geomancy) practitioner forcibly took away this wall. While it was being transported, halfway along the wall toppled on a mountain ridge and fell onto the rocks; to this day, traces of plaster and ink can still be seen.

Master Bin

Huang Ruogu was a Daoist priest at Zhangren Abbey on Qingcheng Mountain. He had a stern, pure bearing and observed the precepts and cultivated himself with strict purity. He often used such arts as the Tianxin (Heart of Heaven) method, talisman water, and Sanguang Zhenghei (Three Luminaries Orthodox Black) to heal illness, with excellent results. When he received money or cloth from others, he distributed it to the poor.

Lü Dongbin disguised himself as Master Bin and came to visit, staying in the abbey for more than a month. The Fulu (talismans and registers) he drew, once blown upon, often turned into dragons, snakes, clouds, or mist and flew away to drive off and subdue ghosts and spirits; when he summoned divine generals, the divine generals would also manifest in bodily form. He could understand people’s speech; when he stamped his foot, thunder sounded; when he blinked, lightning flashed; when he exhaled, clouds formed; when he sprayed his breath, rain fell. He was also skilled at painting without brush or ink: he would hold ink in his mouth and spray it onto paper or silk, and mountains and rivers, flowers and trees, palaces and chambers, birds and beasts, and human figures would appear naturally, needing only a slight brushing and adjustment. Each time he earned money from a painting, he bought wine and drank freely with Ruogu. Ruogu was usually a heavy drinker, yet he was often drunk under the table by Master Bin.

One day Ruogu asked him, “Your conduct is unlike that of ordinary people; you must be one among the immortals. Could you tell me the method of cultivating the Dao?” Master Bin replied, “Your left foot is missing one of the stars of the Northern Dipper; how could you attain the Dao? Try again in another lifetime.” Ruogu exclaimed in astonishment, “Master Bin must be a sage!” It turned out that on the sole of Ruogu’s left foot there was a black mole, arranged in the shape of the Northern Dipper’s seven stars, except that one was missing; no one had ever known of this.

Ruogu then asked how long he himself would live. Lü Dongbin wrote the three characters “nine, ten, four” backward on the wall, drew two connected circles, and then left. Only later did Ruogu understand that the two connected circles together formed the character “Lü,” and that “Bin” was Lü Dongbin’s style name. Ruogu later died at forty-nine, exactly fulfilling the backward-written prophecy.

Fellow Guest

At Xizhi, Lü Dongbin bade farewell and departed. Only then did Ruogu understand that the two connected circles were the character “Lü,” and that “Bin” was Lü Dongbin’s style name. Later Ruogu died at forty-nine, exactly fulfilling the backward-written prophecy.

In the Xining era, there was a Mr. Li in Jiangnan who called himself “the Fellow Traveler.” He wore a broad hat woven from sedge, carried a crude musical instrument, tapped a short wooden clapper, and sang “The Fisherman’s Pride,” interspersing it with the sound “wu-lang.” His singing was clear and stirring, as though it came from high in the sky. The lyrics said:

“Along Jiangnan’s rivers and hills in the second month,

Plum blossoms scatter; spring has no master.

A lone fish is nowhere to be found.

Wind and rain: the jade dragon grows its scales,

Then returns to Heaven.”

When people offered him money, he refused it; when they offered him wine, he accepted gladly. Later, he died in the second month of the jiachen year, yet no body remained on the seat where he had been sitting. Only then did people understand that the so-called “Fellow Traveler” was in fact Lü Dongbin.

The Old Man in the Yellow Jacket

Zhong Zhongshan, a native of Changsha, was returning home from Jinling after leaving office in the jisi year of the Jiading era. When his boat stopped at Nanjin in Baling, he suddenly saw another boat passing by. A tall, unusually imposing old man in a yellow jacket stood upright aboard it, gazing intently at Zhongshan for a long time. Zhongshan saw that there was nothing else beneath the boat’s canopy, only ten black jars placed at the bow. Two boys in blue robes stood in front of the canopy.

Zhongshan assumed the boat would sail straight past. Unexpectedly, after going about two zhang, it turned around and came back. By then, the old man in the yellow jacket had sat down again behind the canopy. He gazed at Zhongshan for a long time once more, and then the boat suddenly vanished.

At first, Zhongshan had taken him for a wealthy merchant and had not gone over to speak with him. Only after seeing the boat disappear did he realize in astonishment that the man was an extraordinary immortal. The next morning, Zhongshan went to the Lü Immortal Shrine, a Daoist temple dedicated to Lü Dongbin, to pay his respects. The statue of Lü there wore yellow robes, and two boys in blue robes stood beside him. Its appearance was exactly like that of the old man in the yellow jacket Zhongshan had seen the day before.

Zhongshan regretted his dull perception and his failure to recognize the true immortal, and sighed with deep feeling. He wrote a poem titled “Water Melody,” which included the line, “As if once more at Nanjin Harbor, I meet Lord Lü’s boat.” The following year, Zhongshan died. Later, his grandson showed people a portrait of the old man in the yellow jacket that Zhongshan had painted. The figure in it was indeed refined and handsome, transcending the ordinary world.

Eight Accounts of Visits to Confucian Scholars

Paying a visit to Ding Jinggong

Eight Accounts of Visits to Confucian Scholars

Visiting Ding Jinggong

When Ding Jinggong (Ding Wei, an official of the Song dynasty) was in Poyang, Lü Dongbin and a young scholar went to visit him. Lü Dongbin said, “I am the grandson of Lü Wei of the Tang dynasty. There is no classic, history, or work by the various masters that I have not read and studied thoroughly.” He also told Ding Jinggong that his appearance closely resembled that of Li Deyu, a distinguished minister of the Tang dynasty, and that his future career in office would follow a similar course. Ding later did indeed rise to the post of chief minister, then was banished overseas. His fortunes truly resembled those of Li Deyu, who had been granted the title Duke of Zanzhuang.

Visiting Zhang Gongji, Assistant Chief Minister

When Zhang Gongji was young and living at home, Lü Dongbin visited him. They discussed the Zhouyi, and Lü also spoke about the teachings in the Mengzi on preserving and nurturing the heart-mind and cultivating Qi (vital energy). Afterward, Zhang’s writing steadily improved. Lü borrowed paper and brush and wrote a poem in clerical script, a style of Chinese writing, that obliquely foretold Zhang’s future service to the court. Its final line read: “His achievement will be complete in the year of breaking the melon.” Zhang later did indeed become an assistant chief minister and died sixteen years afterward. People commonly interpret “breaking the melon” as referring to a girl’s sixteenth year, the age of two sets of eight. They therefore regard the line as a prophetic verse predicting Zhang Gongji’s lifespan.

One day, the governor of Wuchang was playing chess with a companion when a Daoist whose name was unknown walked straight up and said, “I am a master of chess.” The governor decided to play a game with him. After only eight stones had been placed, the Daoist said, “Your Excellency has already lost.” The governor replied, “The game isn’t over yet. How do you know I’ll lose?” The Daoist answered, “My stones have already taken key positions along several routes, so I know you are bound to lose.” And so it proved: they played several games in succession, and the governor lost every one.

Not long afterward, the Daoist flicked his sleeve and departed, vanishing in an instant. The governor sent people to search the whole city. They heard that the Daoist was playing a flute in front of the prefectural office. But as soon as they arrived, the sound had already reached the East Gate. When they hurried there, it had moved to the West Gate; by the time they reached the West Gate, it had shifted to the South Gate; and when they arrived at the South Gate, the flute was sounding at the North Gate. By the time they reached the North Gate, they heard that the Daoist was in front of Yellow Crane Tower. He then entered Shizhao Pavilion and disappeared. Inside the pavilion, only this poem remained:

“Before Yellow Crane Tower I play my flute;

White duckweed and crimson dreams fill the riverbank.

Wrapped in feeling, whom can I tell, who could understand?

Only the clear breeze and bright moon know.”

The poem was signed with the character “Lü.”

Visiting Zhong Ruoweng

When Zhong Chuan, whose courtesy name was Ruoweng, was serving as a military governor, Lü Dongbin came to visit. He wore a cloth headwrap and white robes. He stood in the courtyard, with a shepherd boy beside him holding a yellow calf. Zhong Ruoweng found the Daoist’s manner relaxed and refined. Pointing to the boy, he said, “Since you are a Daoist who writes poetry, could you make a poem for this child?” Lü Dongbin replied, “The child can write one himself.” The shepherd boy immediately composed:

“Grass spreads across the open fields for six or seven li;

A flute plays three or four notes in the evening breeze.

After a hearty meal, he returns at dusk;

Still in his straw rain cape, he lies beneath the bright moon.”

As they parted, everyone saw the Daoist carrying two large urns on a pole and singing as he walked out of the city. Someone reported to Zhong Ruoweng, “Together, the two urns form the two characters ‘Lü Gong.’ That must be Lü Gong.” Zhong Ruoweng hurried after him, but never saw him again.

Visiting the Director of the National Academy

When Shi Jie, whose courtesy name was Shoudao, was serving as a lecturer at the National Academy, a Daoist practitioner who called himself “Old Man Hui” came to visit. He took a poem from his sleeve and said, “The urn…”

Shi Jie, a scholar of the Northern Song, was renowned for upholding the Dao (the Way). While serving as a lecturer at the Directorate of Education, where he taught the Confucian classics, he was visited by a Daoist practitioner who called himself “Elder Hui.” The visitor took a poem from his sleeve:

“Those with lofty aspirations need not seek high office at court. The court has already treated you generously, granting you rank and salary in abundance. Do not wait until disaster strikes and your reputation is damaged before deciding to retire. Make your plans in advance, and cultivate your spirit among the mountains, forests, and springs.”

Shi Jie modestly declined the advice, failing to grasp the poem’s warning, and still laid out wine and food for Elder Hui. At dusk, Hui took his leave, but Shi Jie urged him to stay the night. Hui replied, “I am free as a lone cloud or wild crane. How could I stay?” A year later, Shi Jie was implicated and demoted because he had once written to Kong Zhiwen, a rebel plotting treason. He eventually died.

A Visit to Wang Lun in Yuezhou

Wang Lun, a Court Gentleman of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, was serving in Yuezhou when a Daoist came to visit. He had a lean face, wore a short, coarse-cloth tunic that was too brief to cover his chest and belly, and spoke in a clear, rounded voice. Wang Lun asked about his family background. The Daoist replied, “There is no need to ask about my family. I only wish to play chess.”

Wang Lun was widely regarded as a master player, but this time he lost game after game. As evening fell, he hosted the visitor with wine and asked where he was from. The Daoist answered in verse:

“My name is clearly recorded in the registers of the immortal realm. I am Master Lü, who tired of Penglai’s immortal realm and came down to the human world. How much can mortal eyes discern? They see less than the spirit of the old tree south of the city.”

Wang Lun was astonished by these words, but the Daoist had already vanished. Mist and clouds filled the courtyard and lingered for a long while.

A Visit to the Gentleman Shi

Shi Sheren Wang Xiu was escaping the summer heat when he encountered a woodcutter dressed in worn clothes and carrying an axe. The woodcutter had fine, clear features and spoke with easy confidence. Shi Wang Xiu asked where he came from and about his family background. The woodcutter replied, “I was born in Henan and later moved to Mount Zhongnan. I am a descendant of Lü Wei. The only things I have studied are the Zhuangzi and the Laozi; I have no other pursuits.” Shi Wang Xiu said, “Mount Zhongnan must have many beautiful places.” The woodcutter answered, “There certainly are many.” He then quoted a poem by Tao the Recluse: “What is there on Mount Zhongnan? Nothing but white clouds. Such scenery is meant for oneself to enjoy; it cannot be given to you as a gift.” Shi Wang Xiu sensed that he was an unusual man and earnestly invited him to stay for two days. They spoke at length about ways to transcend being and nonbeing, and to go beyond life and death. When they parted, the woodcutter said, “I am going to Yueyang.” He also gave Shi Wang Xiu a pill of elixir to take. Shi Wang Xiu lived into his nineties, and his face still looked like that of an infant.

Breaking the Protocol at Baling

When Lü Dongbin was walking through the market streets of Baling, the prefect was passing by in procession. The attendants at the head of the procession seized Lü Dongbin for violating the rules of the ceremonial escort. The prefect had him locked up and ordered him to write a statement. Even by evening, he had not said a word. The officials pressed him to comply, and Lü Dongbin said, “You’ll have to wait until I’m sober.” One of them said, “You’re not afraid of being punished, and still you use drunkenness as an excuse.” Before he could finish, Lü Dongbin suddenly vanished, leaving behind only a sheet of paper with these words:

“I’ve left Penglai for a while to wander over the sea;

By chance I met the prefect, who asked about my origins.

I dwell beneath the handle of the Northern Dipper;

My treasured sword hangs above the moon’s horn in the Southern Palace.

You say I’m drunk; indeed, I am drunk,

Yet I know nothing of what sorrow is.

When we met, why did you fail to recognize me?

I’ll simply ride off on the white clouds.”

The prefect exclaimed, “This is Lü Weng!” At dawn, he rose and burned incense to apologize to Lü Dongbin. One day, he saw Lü Dongbin’s reflection in a basin of water and hurriedly summoned a painter to make a portrait of him. The portrait closely resembled the image of Lü Dongbin painted by Teng Zijing.

End of Volume Two of Records of the Patriarch Lü

Records of the Patriarch Lü, Volume Three

Records of His Deeds

Ten Accounts of Travels to Temples and Monasteries

Lü Dongbin arrived at the Golden Goose Temple on Mount Siming and found the abbot’s quarters quiet and deserted. Before long, a young novice came out. Lü asked, “Why is it so desolate here?” The novice replied, “Desolate is not the word. This place is emptiness itself.” Lü greatly admired his words and wrote a poem on the wall:

The abbot’s door stands open, without a bolt;

A mountain novice appears, his feet bare.

I asked why the abbot’s quarters were so still.

He said this place is emptiness itself, where even “emptiness” finds no foothold.

Hearing these words filled my heart with joy.

Could the master be anything but an extraordinary man?

I came to pay my respects but could not meet him.

My longing lingered on, as though veiled in dust.

I should return: before me, the waters stretch vast and boundless;

The road to Penglai Mountain is far and deep.

In longing, I climb the stone tower:

After the snow, the sky clears; sea and mountains shine.

Across a thousand peaks, dawn is just breaking.

Fazhen, a monk at Kaiyuan Temple on Mount Lu, had practiced seated meditation for twenty years and kept the precepts with great rigor. One day, as he was entering samadhi, a Daoist came to visit him. The Daoist asked, “Does the master believe that cultivating the Dao can be accomplished through seated meditation alone?” Fazhen replied, “Yes.” The Daoist said, “The Buddhist precepts call for vigilance. While meditating, one may imagine that one has no deluded thoughts, yet thoughts of lust, killing, and other grave wrongs are especially serious. When faced with external things and circumstances, if one cannot restrain oneself, thoughts surge chaotically and become difficult to control. Is cultivation of the Dao practiced only while seated in meditation?”

The Daoist then led Fazhen past the meditation hall. Seeing a monk fast asleep, he said, “Let us sit here for a while and observe this monk.” After a long time, they saw a small snake, more than three inches long, emerge from the crown of the sleeping monk’s head. It crawled down the bed leg to the floor, came upon some phlegm and saliva, and ate them. Then it…

After drinking from the monk’s urinal, the snake left. It went out of the room, crossed a small ditch, and circled around a flower bed, where it seemed to stop to eat. Then it tried to cross another ditch, but the water had risen too high, so it turned back. When it came near, the Daoist planted a small knife upright in the ground to confront it. Frightened, the snake recoiled, then crawled to the right side of the bed, slipped in over the monk’s head, and settled down to sleep beneath the covers.

The monk suddenly woke and greeted the Daoist and Zhen. “I just had a dream,” he said. “Let me tell you about it. At first I went out through the left-hand door and came upon a lavish vegetarian meal, so I ate. Then I found fine wine and drank it. Next I gathered up my robe and crossed the stream outside the door. I saw dozens of beautiful women and gazed at them to my heart’s content. Later I tried to cross another stream, but the water suddenly rose, and I couldn’t get across. I met a thief who wanted to kill me, so I took a shortcut back through the right-hand door. Then I woke up.”

The Daoist and Zhen both burst out laughing. The Daoist said to Zhen, “The foot of the bed was the door; the phlegm and spit were the offerings; the urine was the wine; the small ditch was the river; the flowers and trees were the beautiful women; and the little knife was the thief. Human dreams are so illusory and unreal.”

Zhen asked, “What about the snake?”

The Daoist said, “This monk is venomous by nature and full of suspicion. After being steeped in these traits for so long, he has already taken on the form of a snake. When he closes his eyes and dies, he will be reborn as one. Is that not something to take as a warning? I am Lü Gong. I have seen your sincere resolve and know you can learn the Dao, so I came especially to teach you.” Zhen then followed Lü Gong and left. What became of him afterward is unknown.

“Presenting Gold at Kaiyuan Temple”—presenting gold at Kaiyuan Temple in Yuanzhou.

The bathhouse at Kaiyuan Temple in Yuanzhou had a large well whose spring water was sweet and cool. Lü Dongbin liked the place and stayed at the temple for more than ten days. He became close to one of the monks. The monk was simple and kindhearted, and treated him with great respect, but did not know that he was Lü Dongbin.

When he was about to leave, Lü Dongbin gave the monk two bars of ink as a gift. The monk put them in a bamboo basket and did not look at them again. One day, Li Dalin, a transport commissioner responsible for the movement of taxes and goods across the region, came to Yuanzhou on an inspection tour of Jiangxi. He sought out the monk and asked, “Did Master Lü ever give you gold?” Only then did the monk remember. “I don’t know Master Lü,” he said. “But an itinerant Daoist once came here and gave me ink. He did not give me gold.” He took out the ink for Li Dalin to see. It had turned to gold.

Li Dalin ran his hands over the gold, astonished, and wanted to exchange other gold for it. The monk refused to accept anything, gave him one of the bars, and asked how he had learned of the matter.

“Yesterday, I passed through Lingmu and met He Xiangu, one of the Eight Immortals,” Li Dalin said. “I asked her where Master Lü had been lately. She said, ‘Master Lü recently came here. He told me he had lived in Yichun for a long time and had become close to a monk in the bathhouse at Kaiyuan Temple. He admired the monk’s immortal bearing, so he gave him gold.’ When I heard this, I came here specifically to see for myself.”

More than ten days later, Lü Dongbin returned to the temple and asked the monk where the two bars of ink were. The monk told him the whole story. Lü Dongbin laughed and said, “That woman does love to talk.” Then he and the monk walked out hand in hand. No one knew where they went after that.

A Shared Meal at Dayun Temple

Lü Dongbin once traveled to Dayun Temple under the assumed name of Master Hui. He joined the monks for their communal meal. After more than a month, he said to them, “The monks are enduring great hunger, and their vital energy is depleted. You are merely short of a little flour.” With that, he left. Ten days later, he returned with a small amount of flour and prepared it himself. The several hundred monks at the temple all ate their fill.

The monks invited Master Hui to drink tea and quoted a line from a poem by Ding Jin’gong: “Flowers follow the monk’s fingers as they break; the buds and fruit chase the guest’s cup into roundness.” Master Hui said, “The lines are good, but they do not fully express the wonders of tea.” He then wrote this poem:

“A single spear of jade medicine is hailed as a rare treasure;

the monks’ way of making it shows the utmost skill.

In a shallow cup patterned with hare’s fur, its fragrance rises white as clouds;

the boiling water rolls, and tiny waves appear together.

It drives the demon of sleep from the mat and table,

and brings fresh clarity into the skin.

The secluded bushes grow beyond the stream’s fork;

they would not move their roots to the imperial capital.”

The poem praises tea leaves as precious and commends the care the monks take in making tea. In a hare’s-fur cup, the tea’s fragrance rises like white clouds, while the boiling water forms fine waves. Drinking tea dispels sleepiness and refreshes the body. The tea bushes grow in a quiet spot by the stream and are unwilling to be transplanted to the capital.

Master Hui gave the monks a pellet of elixir and said, “Take this, and you can live forever without dying.” He then bade them farewell and departed. Later, the monk too became an immortal.

Transforming into a Beautiful Woman at a Mountain Temple

Lü Dongbin once visited a mountain temple and used his sword to transform into a beautiful woman, then entered the temple. The monks gathered to watch her, their minds captivated and their resolve scattered. As she passed in front of the Cloud Hall, one monk sat cross-legged with his legs folded, not looking at her. She walked out through the temple gate, and the monk seemed unmoved.

At first Lü Dongbin thought this monk could be guided. But once the woman had left the temple, the monk was already waiting for her in a secluded place, evidently intending to stop and flirt with her. Beauty can beguile the human heart, and the roots of desire are difficult to eradicate. This is the first great obstacle for those who cultivate the Dao.

The Painted Image at Shenguang Abbey

Lü Dongbin visited Shenguang Abbey in Shanyang and asked for brush and ink. With his own hand, he painted his image on the wall north of the Hall of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing). The portrait’s features were handsome and refined, but its appearance was unusual, unlike the image of Lü Dongbin commonly found in the world. Above the portrait were the seven stars of the Northern Dipper.

When Lü Dongbin visited the Divine Radiance Abbey in Shanyang, he borrowed brush and ink and painted his own likeness beside the pond north of the Hall of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing). The portrait had well-shaped brows and eyes, and a face that was archaic and unusual, unlike the image commonly circulated in the world. Above it he painted the seven stars of the Northern Dipper, with the Star Lord standing bareheaded and holding a jade tablet. Beside it he drew a talisman more than ten feet across. It bore the inscription: “Made in the second year of the Yuanyou era. If you understand where my brush came to rest, you may speak with me about the Dao.”

People who fell ill would scrape off some of the talisman’s ash and take it, and often recovered. Some also saw a majestic divine being who declared, “I am the messenger of the Divine Radiance talisman.” When someone complained of exposure to wind and cold, the divine being treated him that evening.

Visiting Friends at Pingdu Abbey

Mount Pingdu lies within Zhongzhou, Sichuan. Wang Fangping of the Former Han and Yin Changsheng of the Later Han both sought immortality there and lived in seclusion on the mountain. The mountain has Pingdu Abbey, the Cinnabar Cauldron Pavilion, and the Pavilion for Playing Chess. Lü Dongbin visited the place twice to seek out his friends. One of his poems reads:

“At dawn during the Ullambana festival, I passed through Pingdu.

No famous mountain beneath heaven can compare with it.

Two immortals walked alone, unrecognized by the people;

In the end, I made a wasted journey to meet Wang and Yin.”

Another poem reads:

“With a cry, the white crow flew from Mount Qingcheng;

I came once more to visit my friends Wang and Yin.

My heart dwelt only on the beauty of the Three Isles;

When I looked back, spring at Lake Dongting had already passed.”

Poem Inscribed at Taiping Abbey

The Daoist priest at Taiping Abbey in Jiangzhou was a man of lofty aspirations. Lü Dongbin went to visit him and presented this poem:

“Xue, the lofty Daoist, is free-spirited by nature.

Though advanced in years, his beard has not turned white.

He wanders at ease among the clouds and sits or lies upon the rocks;

In the mountains he seeks secluded places and examines ancient steles.

He praises my love of strong wine, yet scorns the little poems others write.

Who knows what sort of man he is?

He pays no heed when his peers mock him.”

A small note at the end of the poem reads: “Written by the Returning Daoist when he and three guests visited the adept Xue.” From this we learn that Lü Dongbin also used the title “Returning Daoist.”

Poem Inscribed at Tianqing Abbey

At the Tianqing Temple in Fuli County, Suzhou, there was a young Daoist who had some unusual ideas when discussing Laozi and Zhuangzi. One morning, just after he had risen, a Daoist selling medicine arrived at the temple. This was Lü Dongbin. He had a commanding appearance, and spent more than a month coming and going at the temple. He taught the young Daoist the essential teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi, and said, “In my view, the principles of Chan Buddhism all come from Laozi and Zhuangzi. Even when people have read thousands upon thousands of scriptures and books and debated them at length, hoping to establish a separate school and lineage, they are in fact still grounded in the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi.”

When he was about to leave, he wrote two quatrains in large seal script on a door panel, his brushwork sweeping and lively. The first read: “Autumn is bleak, branches and leaves drift in disarray; beneath the pines’ shadows in the courtyard, I have sat for a long while. Clouds and mist conceal the immortal crane, and I do not know where it has flown; I failed to keep my appointment to visit the immortal grotto and pay homage to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning.” The second read: “I pass down cinnabar instructions written with the elbow, teaching a thousand years of cultivation. I recite aloud the two scrolls of the Yellow Court Scripture. Beneath the pines’ shadows at the ancient altar of the Crane Temple, not a soul stirs; the gates have long been closed.”

After Lü Dongbin left, people eagerly scraped the writing from the door to use as medicine, and it proved effective. The characters had been carved more than an inch into the wood, and the ink around them had not faded.

Poems Inscribed at the Tianqing Temple in Shanzhou

During the Yuanfeng era, Lü Huiqing was serving in Shanzhou. On the seventh day of the seventh month, an extraordinary figure came to the Tianqing Temple and wrote two poems on paper. The first read: “I wander alone across the four quarters, a man of the mountains and wilds; the frost and snow in my two flasks are enough to invigorate the spirit. The two forces Kan and Li—terms in Daoist Neidan for Water and Fire, Yin and Yang—if you can gather and employ them, the Dragon and Tiger will unite to form the elixir, setting mercury in motion.”

The second read: “I, a man of the mountains and wilds, am a traveler from Tiantai; south of the stone bridge lies my old home. Father and son are each born with two mouths; they love singing and playing the sheng, but not keeping time.”

Lü Huiqing’s son-in-law, Yu Zhong, explained the poem: In the first line of the second poem, “traveler from Tiantai” alludes to the character “Bin.” In the second line, “stone bridge” alludes to the character “Dong.” The “two mouths” in the poem combine to allude to the character “Lü.” The final line refers to singing. Since the poem mentions singing, could its author have been Lü Dongbin?

Eight Pieces on Mixing with the World’s Dust

The wine shop in Shaocheng

Outside Shaozhou, an old woman ran a tavern. A Daoist surnamed Lü often came by each day to ask for wine. One time, when the tavern had run out, the old woman gave him the last sheng of cloudy wine. The Daoist asked how much it cost, and she said twenty coins per sheng. He touched the wine with his finger, then wrote the characters “twenty” on a purple stone outside the door and left. When people looked again a little later, the characters had sunk several feet into the stone. From then on, crowds gathered as thick as a wall, and the tavern prospered. Later, people built the Jixian Temple where the old woman had lived.

The Yongkang Tavern

A man surnamed Ni had just opened a tavern in Yongkang Army. A Daoist came by to ask for wine. From morning until night, he drank five or six dan of the finest wine. Everyone found it strange and gathered to watch. When Ni asked the Daoist to pay, the Daoist stared at him without a word, then slumped over, dead drunk. Ni sat there keeping watch over him. At dawn, as the morning drum sounded, the Daoist suddenly got up, took a brush, and wrote a poem on the wall:

Like a whale gulping, like a turtle swallowing, he drinks hundreds of cups;

Who can raise the man sprawled drunk as a jade mountain?

When he wakes, his two sleeves flutter in the wind from the heavens;

A red cloud rises from the sea.

At the end of the poem was the signature, “Daoist Yang Chun of the Three Mountains.”