《江淮异人录》

Sima Jiao, also known as Ningzheng and Shouzhong, wandered through the lands south of the Yangtze. He usually wore a cap and coarse cloth garments, with wooden clogs on his feet, and could cover several hundred li in a single day. His coarse robe seemed never to be changed, yet it always looked freshly made. His conduct was often violent and unpredictable, so that others did not dare approach him. He could also feign death, letting his body swell, turn livid, discolor, and give off a stench of decay, only to return to life shortly afterward.

He once lived at the Kaiyuan Temple in Xuanzhou. On one occasion, while traveling from Xuanzhou to Shezhou, he met a Daoist named Shao Xiumo, and the two journeyed together. Shao Xiumo arrived first at a post station and rested at an inn. Sima Jiao came later, entered a different inn, and called the innkeeper over to drink with him, but kept insulting the man. The innkeeper at first apologized respectfully, yet Sima Jiao would not let up and even struck him, and the two began to grapple. Suddenly Sima Jiao collapsed on the ground as if dead, his complexion changed. The whole town gathered to watch. Some summoned the villagers, bound the innkeeper, examined the corpse and sought to fix blame, intending to send the man to the prefectural office. Since it was already late, they decided to take him in the next day. At midnight an uproar suddenly broke out in the inn: Master Sima was gone. Only then did everyone understand that he had feigned death, and they released the innkeeper.

At first light the next day, Shao Xiumo set out. After about a hundred li, he asked passersby when Master Sima had come through, and was told that Sima Jiao had already passed early that very morning. The following day Shao Xiumo walked another hundred li and asked again, and the passersby still said Sima Jiao had gone by at dawn the day before. By the time he reached Shezhou, he heard the same account there as well.

When Sima Jiao traveled among the prefectures along the upper Yangtze, he once stayed a long time at an inn. Before leaving, he told the innkeeper that he could not take his bamboo articles with him and would set them on fire. The innkeeper said the wind was strong and the bamboo house was low and cramped, so it was unsuitable for burning. The crowd also knelt together to dissuade him, but he grew angry and ignored them. He lit the fire inside the house and stood at the door holding a large staff, ready to strike anyone who came near. He was very strong, and no one dared step forward. The blaze soon flared up, flames bursting through the gaps in the bamboo roofing, and everyone was terrified. When the fire finally died down, all of Sima Jiao's belongings had been burned away, and the bed in the room was badly scorched, yet the straw mat on the bed was not even singed.

Zhu Ao, an Assistant Magistrate of Chizhou, once met Sima Jiao. Sima Jiao said to him, "Your complexion is very poor, and I fear you will fall ill. After I leave, if you think of me in your sickness, or call my name, I may perhaps respond." Zhu Ao did not believe him. More than ten days later, he indeed developed a high fever and became gravely ill. Suddenly remembering Sima Jiao's words, he knocked his head on the ground and begged for protection. When Zhu Ao was critically ill, he had treated a junior clerk in his household, a certain Chen, as someone he could order about at will, summoning him in to attend him and then driving him out again, while his family kept watch outside the door and none could enter the room. At that moment, in a daze, Zhu Ao saw Chen bring in a bowl of medicine. After drinking it, he at once felt clear-minded and at ease. He asked his family to bring another dose, but they were astonished and said that no one had been allowed into the room, so how could Chen have come in? Only then did Zhu Ao understand that Sima Jiao had secretly protected him. From then on, his illness gradually improved.

Sima Jiao once stayed in a Daoist temple in Shezhou and fell ill with dysentery, his condition severe. The abbot wished to report it to the authorities and first asked for Sima Jiao's opinion. Sima Jiao grew angry and said, "My illness is just about to pass. Why bother with this?" Later, as he grew still worse, the abbot had no choice but to tell the county magistrate, Yao Yun. Yao Yun sent someone to inquire after him. When Sima Jiao heard of it, he asked, "How did Magistrate Yao come to know that I was ill?" The messenger told him the truth, and he flew into a rage, packed his belongings at once, and hurried off into the mountains. More than ten days later he returned carrying a large staff and demanded that the abbot come out so he could beat him. The Daoists of the temple bowed together and pleaded for mercy, and only then did he relent.

He also went to the market in Hongzhou to buy fresh food. Children shouted at him, "The Daoist eats fresh meat!" Sima Jiao grew angry and hit one of the children with an object, injuring the child. The patrol took him to the military officer in charge. That officer had long heard of his reputation and spoke to him gently, but Sima Jiao hurled abuse at him. The officer, unable to contain his anger, had him beaten ten strokes with the staff. Sima Jiao said to those nearby, "Had he given me fifteen strokes, I would live another fifteen days; since he gave only ten, I will die in ten days." It turned out exactly so.

Afterward, Sima Jiao went to live at the Jianji Temple on Mount Lu. After lying drunk for several days, he passed away. As he was dying, he instructed people to place a staff in his coffin. After the burial, people found the coffin empty, and when they opened it, nothing remained inside but the staff.

Late in the Tianyou era, the recluse Qian traveled through the Jianghuai region and stayed for a time at the home of a man named Yang in Jinling. At that time the Wu court had made Jinling a prefecture and was building its city walls, which stretched west to the river and east to the tidal canal. Qian pointed to a stretch of wasteland more than a mile west of the city and urged Yang to buy it. Yang took his advice. When Jinling was later made the capital, the land Yang had purchased lay in a thriving district, and he built a tall tower there and opened a tavern.

On another occasion, while staying at Yang's house, Qian suddenly got up in the middle of the night and told the others, "Soldiers and horses are clamoring beneath the earth. They say they have come to welcome His Excellency, and their noise has kept me from sleeping." No one understood what he meant. The next day, Emperor Yizu arrived in Jinling from Jingkou, and no one had known beforehand that he was coming.

Qian once met a man and said to him, "Heaven's punishment is about to fall on you. Hurry and confess your fault and beg forgiveness." The man replied, "I cannot think of any wrong I have done." Qian told him to think carefully. After a long while the man said that at yesterday's meal, displeased with the food, he had flown into a rage and thrown it into a ditch. Qian said, "That is exactly it. Go quickly and pick up the food you threw away." The man retrieved it and meant to wash off the filth with water, but thunder and lightning suddenly erupted. Qian said, "Quickly, eat the dirty food." The man did as he was told, and the thunder and lightning died down.

Someone once painted a portrait of Qian. Looking at it, Qian said, "I am actually not as good as this portrait, because it always faces a sage." No one understood what he meant. Later a monk placed the portrait inside the Pagoda of Zhigong, and people took this as the fulfillment of his words. Afterward Emperor Liezu had the portrait taken out, brought it into the palace, and had it displayed in his sleeping quarters.

Qian also often made prophecies, speaking of things that were yet to come. Discussing the fortunes of the Li family's dynasty, he said, "The span of 'topknot and whiskers' is double that of Yang." Originally the Wu house held Jiangnan for forty-six years in all, and the Li house for thirty-nine. One interpretation holds that the Yang house's time, from declaring itself sovereign to yielding the throne to a new dynasty, lasted twenty years, so that the number of years indicated by "topknot and whiskers" is exactly twice that of the Yang house.

Nie Shidao was a native of Shezhou who had loved the arts of the Dao (Way) since childhood. Near the end of the Tang dynasty, Yu Tao served as Prefect of Shezhou. His elder brother, Fangwai, was a Daoist who lived in the mountains south of the prefectural city, and Nie Shidao went to study the Dao under him. Yu Tao often visited Fangwai and consulted him on matters of government, so he named the mountain "Wenzheng Shan" (Mountain of Inquiring about Governance). Later, in the Wu kingdom, because Nie Shidao had lived on the mountain, he was called "Master Wenzheng."

When Fangwai first settled in the mountains, few people in the prefecture revered him. After Nie Shidao arrived, his followers grew in number day by day, and the mountain gradually became prosperous.

Once, Nie Shidao was traveling with a friend and they stopped at an inn. The friend had fallen gravely ill with a fever, and the village had neither medicine nor physician. Someone told the sick man that eating a little unclean substance might cure him. When his condition became critical, people urged him again to try it, but he looked reluctant. Nie Shidao persuaded him: "The situation is urgent, so what is there to hesitate over? I will taste it first for you." With that, he took some and tasted it. Moved by his sincerity, the friend ate it too, and the illness was indeed cured.

Later, the Palace Attendant Pei Shu became governor of Shezhou. At that time the Tang court's orders no longer carried throughout the realm, and Tian Jun of Xuanzhou and Tao Ya of Chizhou sent troops to besiege Shezhou, surrounding it for several months. The people of Shezhou repeatedly drove back the enemy. Eventually the city's grain ran out and relief forces were cut off, so the people deliberated surrender. But the defenders had killed and wounded a good many of the enemy, and no one dared go out of the city to convey the intention to surrender.

Nie Shidao volunteered to go. Pei Shu said, "You are a Daoist. How can you enter the midst of war? Please change into other clothing before you go." Nie Shidao replied, "I have received the teachings and precepts of the Daoist Dao, and I cannot casually change my attire." So he left the city wearing his Daoist robes. The two enemy commanders were at first startled, but after hearing his purpose they were delighted and said, "This is truly a man who has attained the Dao." Once the terms were agreed, they sent Nie Shidao back into the city.

When the appointed time arrived, Pei Shu's side still had matters unsettled and wished to postpone, so they asked Nie Shidao to go out again to explain. Everyone feared that such repeated changes might put him in danger and worried for him, but Nie Shidao showed no fear. When the two commanders saw him, both agreed, awaiting only Pei Shu's decision on the date. That the people of the city were preserved was entirely owing to Nie Shidao's merit.

When Emperor Taizu of Wu heard of Nie Shidao's reputation, he summoned him to Guangling and built the Ziji Palace (Ziji Gong) for him to live in. One night a thief slipped into his residence and stole his utensils and valuables. Nie Shidao said to him, "You became a thief because you wanted to use my belongings to relieve hunger and cold, didn't you? What else could you do with these things?" He led the thief to an inner room, gave him all the gold and silk, and told him, "Leave by that way. There are no patrols there, and you can avoid disaster." The thief did as he said and was never caught.

Later, the Wu court sent Nie Shidao to Mount Longhu to perform a jiao (a Daoist ritual of prayer and offering). On the road he met a band of robbers who were about to harm him. One of them looked carefully at Nie Shidao and said to his companions, "Do not offend the Master." He had everyone return all the goods they had seized to Nie Shidao, and the robbers all obeyed. The man said to Nie Shidao, "I am the one who was a thief at the Ziji Palace in Yangzhou all those years ago. I remain grateful for your kindness and generosity, and have come today especially to repay it." Nie Shidao later died in Guangling.

At one time, the court sent an envoy to Huxiang on official business. On the envoy's return journey, he met Nie Shidao at a certain place and asked how he came to be there. Nie Shidao answered, "The court has sent me to perform a jiao at Mount Nanyue." The envoy believed him. Only when he entered the territory of Wu did he learn that Nie Shidao had already died.

Nie Shidao's grand-nephew Shaoyuan entered the Dao in his youth. He was gentle and refined in bearing and skilled at writing, but died in his twenties. When Shaoyuan was gravely ill, four cranes once alighted on the roof of his dwelling. After he died, people saw five cranes soar into the sky.

Yu Da lived in the mountains of West Mountain (Xishan) in Hongzhou, where the seasons showed no clear change. He often carried flowers in his hands and did not like to approach other people. Once he went to the Yingsheng Temple and laid his flowers before the image of the Dao (the Way). The Daoist priests prepared tea for him and set it on a table; only after everyone had left did Yu Da pick it up and drink. When he finished, he put the cup back on the table, bowed with folded hands, and took his leave. If others bowed to him, he returned the courtesy, but he never spoke to anyone.

A certain young man was fond of Daoist arts and wished to become Yu Da's disciple, but had never managed to do so. One day the young man bowed to him and said, "I wish to follow you, master, in cultivating the Dao." Yu Da walked away without even turning his head. The young man ran after him and caught hold of his clothing. Yu Da tried to drive him off, but the young man would not leave. Yu Da climbed mountains and crossed streams, and the young man followed him throughout, never letting go for a moment. When they reached a certain place, Yu Da sat down beside the water and asked the young man, "Are you thirsty?" "I am," he answered. Yu Da took out of his robe something that looked like powdered tea and gave it to him, saying, "Put this in your mouth, then scoop up water with your hands and drink it down." The young man did as he was told, and promptly fell asleep. When he woke, Yu Da was gone.

Li Mengfu often wandered the markets of Hongzhou (the area around present-day Nanchang, Jiangxi). He was in his twenties, slight of build, fair-skinned, and so handsome that he seemed made of jade. Unrestrained and free, he wore flowers tucked into his clothing in every season, and he would go through all the wine shops in the city, singing aloud without inhibition until he was thoroughly drunk. Many who loved lively company invited him to drink. When someone asked him to compose song lyrics, he answered on the spot, improvising aloud; though he took no pains over them, they always carried a certain savor.

When Zhong Chuan was garrisoning Hongzhou, he considered Li Mengfu's conduct wild and a source of confusion to the public, and meant to punish him. From prison Li Mengfu presented more than ten poems, whose general meaning was: "Wearing flowers and drinking wine do no harm; woodcutters and fishermen sing songs without neglecting their duties." In the end Zhong Chuan did not punish him.

Later, Li Qiong, the prefect of Guizhou, sent a man to Hongzhou, saying that Li Mengfu was his younger brother and asking that he be released to return home. Zhong Chuan sent people to search the markets and the inns, but they were told, "Li Mengfu did not come back last night." From then on, no one knew where he had gone.

Liu Tonggui lived in Hongzhou. He claimed that Mengfu was his younger brother and asked the authorities to send someone to take Mengfu away. Magistrate Zhong dispatched men to search the inns in the marketplace, but the people at the inn said, "Mengfu did not come back yesterday." After that, no one knew where he had gone.

Liu Tonggui, who lived in Hongzhou, once rented lodgings at the home of the Ai family, where only an elderly couple lived. Every morning Liu carried a basket of mushrooms to sell, and every evening he came home drunk. After a long while the neighbors grew suspicious, and one night they peered through a hole in the wall. They saw him take soil from a clay jar (taofu), sprinkle it with water, and before long mushrooms sprouted from it. At daybreak he gathered them and took them to market.

Later the old man Ai fell ill and told his wife, "When I die, be sure to put a walking staff in my coffin." After he died, his wife did as he had asked. When the coffin was first carried out, people found it very heavy, but halfway along the road it gradually grew so light that it seemed to hold nothing at all. The bearers shook the coffin and felt only a staff rolling inside. When they opened it, there was indeed nothing left but a single staff.

Lady Geng was the daughter of Geng Qian, a general of Jiangnan. Even as a young girl she was bright and quick-witted and strikingly beautiful. She loved reading and could also compose verses, which often carried a profound meaning. She was also versed in Daoist arts, able to bind and subdue ghosts and spirits. She was skilled in the arts of "yellow and white" (huangbai, the ancient craft of transmuting base materials into gold and silver) and could perform transformation techniques.

Lady Geng was the daughter of Geng Qian, a general in Jiangnan. Intelligent and strikingly beautiful from childhood, she loved reading and could write poetry, and her verses often had real merit. She was versed in Daoist arts and could command ghosts and spirits. She also understood the "yellow and white arts" of transmuting metals, along with all manner of strange transformations. The abilities she displayed were so unusual and unfathomable that no one knew where she had learned them.

During the Baoda era (the reign title of Li Jing, the Middle Lord of the Southern Tang), the Jianghuai region was prosperous and wealthy. The emperor loved literature and was especially fond of marvelous tales, so he summoned Lady Geng to the palace, wishing to see her arts with his own eyes. He did not enroll her in the ranks of the palace women as he would an ordinary attendant, but lodged her in a separate residence and addressed her as "Lady" (Xiansheng, "Teacher").

Lady Geng often wore a jade-green robe the color of rosy clouds, and when she appeared before the emperor she usually carried a bamboo-slip register. She was radiant in bearing and fluent in speech. Her hands were like crow's claws and awkward to use, so she depended on others for her meals. She also disliked walking, and the palace frequently sent people to carry her. She often inscribed poems on the walls and called herself the "Lady of the Great North," though no one understood what the title meant.

Her abilities came and went; they were hard to detect in ordinary times but revealed themselves when occasion arose. The emperor therefore valued her all the more. When she first entered the palace, he tested her with questions of metal transmutation, and every trial proved effective. Later, whenever she continued to practice her art, the process was remarkably simple.

Once, while chatting idly, the emperor said to her, "These things are all refined by fire. Could it be done without fire?" Lady Geng replied, "Let us try; perhaps it can." The emperor took some mercury, wrapped it in many layers of thick paper, and sealed it very tightly. Lady Geng tucked it into her bosom. After a while, a sound like tearing silk suddenly came from it. Smiling, she said to the emperor, "Your Majesty has often doubted my skill. Having seen it with your own eyes today, can you still doubt it?" She handed the package to the emperor. He examined it closely, and the seals were exactly as before; when he opened it, the mercury inside had turned into silver.

On another occasion, when heavy snow was falling, the emperor asked her jokingly, "Lady, can you turn snow into silver?" "That too is possible," she said. She took some snow, packed it firm, and carved it into the shape of a silver ingot. Then she threw it into a bed of glowing red charcoal. Ash billowed up in the hall at once, and she slowly covered the snow lump with charcoal. After about the time it takes to eat a meal, she said, "It is ready." When it was taken out, the lump glowed bright red. After it cooled on the ground, it had become a silver ingot, and even the knife marks from the carving were still visible. Turning it over, one could see on the underside the shape of dripping, melted milk curd, presumably from having been melted by the fire earlier. Afterward, Lady Geng made a great deal of this snow silver. On the emperor's birthday she often fashioned vessels from it as birthday gifts.

Lady Geng was also very ingenious, and what she made was often original. The South Sea once sent tribute of rare goods, among them rose water and borneol syrup. The rose water was clear and richly fragrant; the borneol syrup was said to nourish men's vitality. The emperor prized the borneol syrup greatly, often mixing it into wine to drink, after which the fragrance lingered in his mouth for days, and he would also bestow it on his close ministers. Lady Geng, however, said, "This is not yet very good." The emperor asked, "Can you make it, Lady?" She answered, "Let me try; I think it can be done."

She took borneol, put it in a bag of fine silk, and hung it inside a glass bottle. The emperor sealed the bottle himself and affixed a seal strip, then set wine beside it and watched. After about the time of a meal, Lady Geng said, "The borneol has turned to syrup." The emperor rose and put his ear to the bottle, and indeed heard the sound of liquid dripping. He drank wine a while longer, and when he looked again some time later, a spoonful of clear liquid had gathered in the glass bottle. The next day, when the bottle was opened, it was already half full of liquid, with an intense fragrance far surpassing the borneol syrup of before.

Later, Lady Geng became pregnant. One day she said to the emperor, "I will give birth tonight, and the child in my womb is truly a sacred one. Please prepare what is needed for the delivery." The emperor arranged everything and even had palace women stay overnight in the room. In the middle of the night, a fierce wind arose outside and thunder crashed, terrifying everyone inside. Yet that night she did not give birth. The next morning her belly had returned to normal. Astonished, the emperor questioned her, and she said, "The child was born last night amid the thunder and lightning, and a divine being has already carried it away. It can never be found again."

Lady Geng liked wine, and in matters of desire between men and women she was much like ordinary people. She later bore children as well, and finally died of illness. The immortals of old often concealed their traces and blended in with the common world; could Lady Geng have been such a person?

When I was formerly in Jiangnan, I often heard people speak of her. But accounts of the hidden affairs of the palace varied greatly. After Jiangnan was pacified, I visited Xu Shuaigeng in the capital. Xu Shuaigeng was a grandson of Xu Yizu and knew all about the affairs of the palace. I therefore asked him to verify Lady Geng's story, and he told me the whole matter in detail.

Pan Yi was the son of Pan Peng, an Assistant Judge of the Court of Judicial Review (Dali Pingshi). In his youth he lived in Hezhou and often went to Yinglong Mountain to gather firewood to support his parents.

Once, he crossed the river to Jinling, and his boat was moored at the mouth of the Qinhuai River. An old man asked for passage across the river. Pan Yi respected the elderly and agreed. It was snowing heavily at the time, so Pan Yi bought wine and drank it together with the old man. By the time the boat reached midstream, the wine was gone. Pan Yi regretted that there had been too little and that he had not gotten drunk. The old man said, "I have wine as well." He then took off his headcloth, drew a small gourd from his hair knot, and poured out wine that could not be drunk dry no matter how much was taken. Pan Yi was astonished and held the old man in even greater respect.

When the boat reached the shore, the old man said to Pan Yi, "You serve your parents with filial devotion, and you also have the aptitude for cultivating the Dao (the Way). I can teach you the arts of the Dao." He then transmitted these arts to him. From then on, Pan Yi's conduct often seemed extraordinary, and people called him "the Immortal Pan."

He could hold mercury in his cupped hands, and it would then turn into silver. Once, when visiting a household, he saw many leaves that had fallen into the pond and told the host that he could perform a conjuring trick with them. He had the leaves scooped out and placed on the ground, and they all turned into fish of various sizes. When the fish were put back into the water, the leaves returned to their original form.

There was a man named Ji Liang who often visited relatives and friends. Once, as he was sitting in a house with several others, he saw Pan Yi pass by the door. The host invited Pan Yi in and asked him to perform his arts for the company's amusement. Pan Yi agreed. Seeing an iron anvil outside the door, he borrowed it from the host for the demonstration. He took out a small knife and cut the anvil into pieces bit by bit until it was entirely cut up, leaving the guests stunned. He then said that borrowed things should not be damaged, and he gathered the pieces together, whereupon the anvil was restored as it had been.

Pan Yi also took an old square cloth cap from his sleeve and said to the company, "Do not look down on it. Unless someone is in dire distress, I will not lend it to anyone, and no one else could borrow it." With that, he raised the cap to cover his face, stepped back several paces, and vanished.

He could also recite books he had never seen. If someone rolled up a book, sealed it, and set it before him, naming only the first character, he could recite it from beginning to end, even describing the dots, corrections, smudges, and circled marks within it. Most of the marvels he performed were of this kind, and they are not recorded one by one. Later, Pan Yi died of illness.

In Runzhou (present-day Zhenjiang, Jiangsu) there lived a recluse, a chushi (a learned man who declined official office), whose name has been lost. He was of high character and versed in Daoist arts, and people respected and trusted him.

When An Renyi rebelled, the people of the prefecture were seized with panic and wanted to scatter and flee. Someone said, "The recluse is living here in perfect calm, so surely nothing will happen." Only then did the people settle down a little.

The recluse had a relative who led his whole household out of the prefecture to escape the turmoil. This relative had a married daughter who could not leave with the family, so he entrusted her to the recluse, who agreed to look after her.

Later the city was besieged and the situation became desperate. The recluse said to the young woman, "Bring me one object from your household, and I can help you escape this disaster." She brought a knife from the house. The recluse pressed his hand along the blade, returned it to her, and said, "Just keep hold of this knife and carry yourself as you normally would. When the soldiers march out of the city, go out with them, and you will be in no danger."

She did as he said. Mingling with the great crowd, she was seen by no one. At a village inn several dozen li outside the city, she found her own brother there. She walked up to him, but he could not see her. She threw the knife into the water and approached him again, and this time he saw her and asked in astonishment, "How did you come to be here?" She told him everything that had happened. Her brother had her pick the knife up again, and once she held it, she could no longer hide her form.

Afterward the city fell, and the recluse was never seen again.

There was an officer from Hongzhou.

When Zhong Chuan was garrisoning Hongzhou, he once sent a military officer from his office, a certain Yan, on a mission to Zhejiang. Yan arrived in Hangzhou just as the Cold Food Festival was under way. People from the city were streaming out to enjoy the outing, and men and women crowded the roads. He went out to watch as well, and saw an old man and an old woman drinking together in the open countryside, facing each other. Suddenly the old man rose into the sky on a cloud, and the crowd around them broke into an uproar. The old woman looked up at him and wept in grief. The old man descended some tens of feet and comforted her with his hand; soon he rose again, higher and higher, until he vanished from sight. A certain Ms. Ai of Hongzhou had known Yan earlier and heard him tell this story with her own ears.

Shi Gonggao

Shi Gonggao was the younger brother of Shi Gongzhu, a leading general of Jiangnan. He was of a quiet, unassuming temperament and fond of Daoist arts (Dao shu), and no one ever saw him show joy or anger. When people came to ask a favor of him, he did not take it to heart. Later, when he had risen to high rank and wore fine clothes, he would, whenever he visited someone's home, take off his outer garment and sit down, paying no heed to the etiquette between host and guest. On leaving, he sometimes put on someone else's old, tattered clothes by mistake without noticing; only when someone ran after him holding his own garment did he realize, and he would change back.

When the Minister Zhang Han was in charge of appointing officials, Shi Gonggao asked to be made magistrate of Yangzi County. The appointment was granted, but he never took up the post. Seeing how carefree and broad-minded he was, and how readily he adapted to whatever came, Zhang Han tested him by asking, "Would it be acceptable for you to serve as Yangzi County commandant for the time being?" Shi Gonggao agreed gladly. Later he served as magistrate of Ruichang County and died in office. At the time the sky was clear and there was no rain, yet clouds and rain appeared above his residence alone. Someone saw a man above the clouds and rain, with his garments tied up and riding a horse, slowly ascending into the high heavens until he vanished from sight.

Recluse Jiang

In Shezhou there lived a recluse, Hermit Jiang, who was serene and unassuming by nature, fond of Daoist arts (dao shu), and able to subdue ghosts and spirits. A woman in his village was once possessed by a ghost, and her family sometimes saw the apparition as well. One night her husband woke and sensed that someone was in bed with his wife. He quickly rose and seized the figure, then called for a torch so that he could bind it. When the torch arrived, he discovered that what he had grabbed was his own belt. The family searched everywhere for Fulu (talismans and registers) and prohibitory rites, but none of them could rid the household of the ghost.

Later, the husband went to call on Hermit Jiang. Jiang said, "Although I am able to subdue it, I have never wished to meddle in the affairs of ghosts and spirits. But since you have come to tell me, I will send it away for you. When you return home, clear out a room and have a young boy boil tea and wait for me. Without my instruction, no one is to peek." The husband did as he was told.

Jiang arrived shortly afterward, entered the room and sat down, and had the boy go out to receive the guest. Sure enough, a young man in green robes appeared, with a most upright and refined bearing. The boy invited him in, and on seeing Hermit Jiang he bowed. Jiang had him sit, and he sat and drank his tea without speaking a word. Then he bowed again and left. From that day on, the woman returned to her normal self.

On another occasion, a man who went into the mountains to gather firewood was possessed by a ghost. The ghost said to him, "This tree is where I dwell. Now that you mean to cut it down, what am I to rely on? I will borrow your body as my dwelling." From then on, the man felt something darting back and forth beneath his skin, reaching every part of him from head to foot. Unable to bear the pain any longer, he set out to find Hermit Jiang. Before the man arrived, the ghost had already got there ahead of him.

Hermit Jiang's residence had a tower, and north of the tower stood a dense bamboo grove. He was sitting in the tower at the time when he sensed that there was a spirit in the grove, and he called out to question it. The ghost explained the whole matter and begged forgiveness for its offense. Jiang said, "I already know." Soon afterward, the man arrived as well. Jiang told him, "Go through the village and find an empty house where no one lives, then come back and tell me." The man went and, sure enough, found one. Jiang handed him a square-inch slip of paper with a name written on it and instructed him, "When you reach that house, drop the paper." After the man did so, his affliction disappeared.

There was also a man troubled by a Kui ghost (a ghost or monster from legend). His family had placed paintings in the upper floor of the house, and the paintings were all fouled with filth. They told Hermit Jiang about it, and he said, "Seal the door of the upper floor for three days, and I will make it leave." They did as he said. When they opened the door after three days, the filth was gone entirely and the paintings were as good as new.

I also know of these events, because my family has lived in Shezhou for generations, and I witnessed them with my own eyes.

Someone had soiled the paintings on the wall of a tower with filth, and told Mr. Jiang about it. Jiang said, "Just seal the tower door for three days, and I can make the filth disappear." They did as he said. When the door was opened after three days, the filth was gone entirely and the paintings were restored to their original state. Of the things I know of, one took place in Shezhou, where my family has lived for generations; I saw this with my own eyes.

Li Sheng

The scholar Li Sheng once traveled to Xishan in Hongzhou. One snowy night he was drinking with the retired scholar Lu Qi and five or six companions. During the gathering someone remarked offhandedly, "With the snow coming down this hard, it's simply impossible to go out." Li Sheng said, "Where do you want to go? I can go for you." The man replied, "I have some books left in Xingzi. Could you fetch them for me?" Li Sheng agreed and went straight out. Before the banquet had broken up, he returned carrying the books on a shoulder pole. Xingzi is more than three hundred li from Xishan.

At the Youwei Temple (Daoist abbey) there was a Daoist priest who had once treated Li Sheng disrespectfully. Li Sheng said, "I can't kill him, so let me give him a fright." One day the priest shut his door and was sleeping in his room. Li Sheng had a servant boy knock at the door, and went to fetch Scholar Li's dagger. When the priest got up, he saw a dagger stuck in the wood before his pillow, its blade still quivering. From then on he changed his attitude and treated Li Sheng with respect.

Outside the Tanmen Gate in the eastern suburbs of Jiankang (present-day Nanjing), there once lived a man who would not reveal his name. He had built a small hut beside a stretch of wild water, just large enough to keep off wind and rain. Inside there were only one or two everyday utensils and nothing else.

Each day he went into the city, saying he was going to beg. Yet he never walked the streets and alleys or wandered through the markets; he simply strolled at leisure among the temples and monasteries. Gradually the local people all came to know of him, and an inspecting official reported the matter to the emperor. The emperor sent men to look into his background and to ask what he wanted. After questioning him, they found that he sought nothing at all.

It was bitterly cold at the time, and the authorities were distributing sleeve garments (padded wraps worn over the arms for warmth) to the poor. Seeing how thinly he was dressed, they offered him one, but he declined it. When they insisted, he simply passed it on to someone else. The people found him all the more remarkable, so they moved him to another place to see where he would go.

The officials tore down his old hut and relocated him to an orchard belonging to the palace attendant Zhang Mou, southwest of Xuanwu Lake. The orchard was overgrown with weeds, and there was wild water there as well. Beside it he built another small hut and settled in.

Then snow fell heavily for several days. The people in the orchard had not seen him come or go and assumed he had frozen to death. When they went to check, they found the hut collapsed and said, "He really has died," and reported it to the authorities. The officials lifted away the fallen structure to look, and found him lying asleep in the snow, sleeping soundly. The crowd startled him awake, and when he rose there was not the slightest sign on him of any fear of the cold. He then left, and no one ever learned where he went.

Chen Yunsheng was a native of Raozhou, and people called him "Chen Bainian" (Chen the Centenarian). From childhood he was calm and spoke little, and he loved Daoist arts. His family had hunted for generations, yet Chen Yunsheng alone would not eat the meat of game, nor would he converse with others. At the age of ten he went to Mount Longhu to cultivate the Dao (the Way), living in deep and remote places where few people ever saw him. When family members occasionally came across him, he would hurry away and refuse to stop.

During the Tianyou era, someone saw him on Mount Magu in Fuzhou. By reckoning, he had been gone from home for seventy years, yet his appearance was just as it had been long before. In the Shengyuan era, the prefect Wei Quanfeng, who had recognized in his youth that Chen was no ordinary man, welcomed him into the prefectural city and lodged him alone in a single room; yet at times Chen would suddenly vanish.

One night, as Wei Quanfeng sat talking with him, he said, "The tangerines of Fengcheng are very fine, and I would dearly love to taste some." Chen Yunsheng replied, "A boat laden with tangerines happens to be moored at Laocheng Harbor. Let me fetch some." Laocheng Harbor lay fifteen li from the prefectural city, and before long he returned carrying a cloth sack holding several hundred tangerines. The two of them then ate them together.

Once, for the ceremonial needs of a marriage, Wei Quanfeng bought gold in the prefectural city, but the amount fell short, and he sternly reproached his subordinates. Chen Yunsheng said, "Do not be angry; I can make up the difference." He took thick paper, coated it with a medicinal preparation, and cast it into the fire. The paper all turned into gold, enough to meet the need.

Later, when Wei Quanfeng went to battle against the forces of Wu, Chen Yunsheng cautioned him as he departed: "Whatever you do, do not enter by way of the mouth." Wei Quanfeng did not grasp the meaning of these words, and was ultimately defeated at Xiangya Pool.

Chen Shu was a Daoist priest at the Shanshan Temple in Xinzhou. People said he had lived to the age of one hundred, though in truth no one knew how old he really was. He walked several hundred li every day. Whenever someone in the prefecture held a banquet, a seat was always left empty for him, and no matter how far the journey, he would usually appear.

When Liezu heard of him, he sent an envoy to summon him. Before the envoy arrived, Chen Shu suddenly sighed and said, "I am old. What use am I to the state? Why trouble yourselves to summon me?" A few days later, the envoy did indeed arrive. Liezu summoned him a second time, but in the end he did not go.

During the Baoda era, Chen Shu would often burn incense alone in the courtyard late at night, raise his head to bow and pray to Heaven, and then withdraw and weep bitterly. Not long afterward, war broke out in the Huai River region, and people believed he had foreseen it all along.

Later he crossed the Yangtze and settled in the abandoned Jingxing Temple at Yongxing, where he built a small hut and lived alone. Tigers and leopards often followed him, and few people ever saw him. After Chen Shu died, several days passed before he was placed in the coffin, and his body was still covered in sweat.

Zhang Xun was a subordinate general of Taizu of Wu (Yang Xingmi). Because he had a very large mouth, people of the time called him "Big-Mouth Zhang." When Taizu was stationed at Xuanzhou, he once distributed suits of armor among his generals. The armor Zhang Xun received was old and worn, and he was displeased, which showed on his face. His wife said to him, "This is not worth minding. It is only that the Situ (a high official title) does not yet know of it; if he did, he would surely have it replaced for you."

The next day, Taizu asked Zhang Xun, "How is the armor you were given?" Zhang Xun answered truthfully, and Taizu exchanged it for another set.

Later, when Taizu moved his base to Guangling, he bestowed horses on his generals. The horse Zhang Xun received was thin, weak, and poor, and again he was dissatisfied. His wife urged him as before. The following day, when Taizu asked again, Zhang Xun told him the real situation. Taizu said, "Do you keep a shrine to any spirit in your home?" Zhang Xun replied, "No." Taizu said, "Earlier, when I was at Xuanzhou, I dreamed of a woman dressed in a robe of pearls. She said to me, 'The armor you gave Zhang Xun is too poor; you should replace it.' Afterward I asked you, and it was just so, so I had it changed. Now, with the horses I gave my generals, I have again dreamed of that woman in the pearl robe, who said the horse Zhang Xun received was not a good one. What is the meaning of this?" Zhang Xun could not make sense of it either.

Zhang Xun's wife kept a clothing chest that she always opened and closed herself; Zhang Xun had never seen it opened. One day, when his wife had gone out, he secretly opened the chest and indeed saw a robe of pearls inside. When his wife returned, she asked him, "Did you open my chest?"

At first, whenever the couple ate, his wife would wait for her husband to return. One day, when Zhang Xun came home, his wife had already eaten. She told him, "Today the food tasted strange, so I did not wait for you and ate first." Zhang Xun went into the kitchen and saw a human head steaming in the rice. Disgusted, he secretly resolved to kill his wife. She said to him, "Do you mean to turn against me? Yet you are destined to become a prefect (cishi) of several commanderies, so I cannot kill you." Pointing to a maidservant, she said, "If you mean to kill me, you must kill her first; otherwise you will surely not escape punishment." Zhang Xun then killed his wife and the maidservant. Afterward, he did indeed become a prefect.

Dong Shaoyan

Dong Shaoyan was skilled at reading a person's fate. Once, when visiting Li Jian, the military commissioner of Ezhou, Dong Shaoyan was attended by several of Li Jian's sons, whom Li Jian had called out to wait on the guest. Among them, a small boy with a broad, flat forehead, He Jingmei, stood beside Li Jian. Dong Shaoyan said, "All of your sons will rise to eminence, but none can compare with this child with the broad forehead." Later, He Jingzhu was promoted to military commissioner several times and became a celebrated general of his day.

When Yizu was garrisoning Runzhou, Dong Shaoyan was there as well. Dong Shaoyan often observed the generals and officers of the garrison and commented on their fates. A man named Lan Yansi said to Dong Shaoyan, "What you say often comes true." Dong Shaoyan replied, "Say nothing more. You will not come to a good end." Lan Yansi said, "I am a soldier. Dying by the blade is simply part of my calling. What is there to remark on?" Dong Shaoyan said, "Do you imagine you will die by a fine blade?"

Later, fires broke out in several parts of the prefecture, and the government offices began taking precautions, making large numbers of wooden buckets to hold water. The soldiers, however, seized the buckets and their swords and used the occasion to launch a mutiny. Lan Yansi lost his life in the turmoil.

The Soldier of the Prince of Wei

When Zhizheng, Yizu's son and the Prince of Wei, was garrisoning Xuanzhou, there was a soldier whose name was not recorded. His household consisted only of himself and his wife. One day, the husband came home from outside, asked for water to bathe, put on fresh clothes, sat down on a rope couch (a seat-and-bed made with a woven rope surface), and died. His wife, seeing this, was greatly alarmed and asked, "Are you dead?" She did not weep. Instead, she too bathed, put on fresh clothes, sat down facing her husband, and died. The Prince of Wei had the couple buried together in a single tomb.

Shen Fen

In the late Tang, the censor Shen Fen lived in retirement at home, fond of cultivating the Dao. He had two concubines. One day, he asked them, "If I died, would you weep for me?" The concubines were startled and said, "How can you say something so inauspicious?" Shen Fen explained, "If that day truly came, of course you would weep." Then Shen Fen said, "Try weeping now. I would like to see it." At first they refused, but when Shen Fen pressed them repeatedly, they tried to slip away. Shen Fen held them back, and unable to decline, they said, "Then please go and sit on the couch." Shen Fen did as they asked. The two concubines, one on each side, drew up their sleeves and began to weep. When they had finished and looked, Shen Fen had already died.

The Youth of Qianzhou

A military officer surnamed Zhong from Qianzhou was traveling by boat to Guangling. When his boat stopped at Taihe Garrison and he went ashore, he met a young man of dignified appearance. The young man also wanted passage to Yangzhou, and Zhong agreed, so the two traveled together.

They went ashore by the river and walked into the marketplace together, where they saw a pig's head hanging in a butcher's shop. The young man wanted to buy it but had no money. "This is a trifling matter," he said. After they returned to the boat, he drew the pig's head out of his sleeve and explained that he had taken it earlier because he had no money, and that now he ought to repay the butcher. So he went back to the shop and told the butcher, "I'll give you the money now, and come back for the meat in a little while." The butcher accepted the payment, but the young man never returned for the meat.

When they reached Guangling, the young man and Zhong lodged at the same inn. One day, several frivolous knights-errant came wandering into the inn. The young man pointed to a person in blue clothing and said, "This person will surely come to steal tonight. We should be on guard." Zhong did not quite believe him. In the middle of the night, he heard the sound of someone chiseling through the wall. When the hole was breached and the intruder's head poked through, Zhong raised a candle and quickly seized him. It was indeed the very person the young man had pointed out. Zhong said to the thief, "You haven't yet stolen any goods, so I have no wish to kill you," and let him go.

Later, the young man suddenly said to Zhong, "You cannot stay here long." He urged Zhong to return home quickly, and Zhong did as he was told. By the time he reached Risha, Zhu Jin had already begun killing people in the city of Changhua, and the whole city was in turmoil.

In the Min region there lived a recluse named Zhang Biao, who had no interest in official service. Versed in Daoist arts, Zhang Biao could communicate with the underworld. Sometimes they lay for three or five days at a stretch as if dead, yet their body did not grow cold. On waking, they would often recount what they had seen in the underworld, and at times they predicted future events, all of which later came true. For this reason, the people of the prefecture held them in great reverence.

Toward the end of the Tang dynasty, Wang Baoyi held a military post in Min. Ordered to carry a memorial to the imperial court, he found the roads cut off and impassable, so he set out by boat across the sea and drowned. His grandson, Wang Kan, remained in Min. Later, when someone in Wang Kan's household fell ill, they asked Zhang Biao to go to the underworld and pray on the family's behalf. Zhang Biao agreed, and on returning reported having seen Wang Kan's grandfather in the Water Realm (a place in the underworld associated with water), where he held an underworld office (an official post within the netherworld). Zhang Biao also described in detail many private matters of the Wang family, and every one of them matched the facts.

The Scholar of Hongzhou

Cheng Youwen served as Registrar and Military Advisor of Hongzhou (an official in charge of local documents and records). His residence stood close to the main road, and the house had a single window open to it.

The Scholar of Hongzhou

Cheng Youwen served in Hongzhou as a registrar and military advisor (lushi canjun, an official who managed documents and assisted with administrative affairs). His residence faced the main road and had a single window. One day he was sitting beneath it. The rain had only just stopped, the road was thick with mud, and only a short stretch of the surface was somewhat dry.

He saw a young boy selling shoes, plainly in great poverty. A ruffian of a youth bumped into the boy's older brother, and the shoes fell into the mud. Weeping, the boy demanded payment for them, but the youth shouted him down and refused to compensate him. The boy said, "My family hasn't eaten this morning. We were waiting to sell these shoes and buy food with the money, and now you've ruined every one of them."

A scholar passing by took pity on the boy and paid for the shoes himself. The ruffian flew into a rage: "The boy asked me for money. What business is it of yours?" He then began to insult the scholar as well, who grew very angry. Cheng Youwen admired the scholar's sense of justice and invited him over to talk. Finding him quite out of the ordinary, he asked him to stay the night.

That night, while the two were talking, Cheng went into the inner rooms for a moment. When he came back out, the scholar was gone. The outer doors were all shut, and though he searched everywhere, he could not find him. After a little while the scholar appeared before him again and said, "I truly could not tolerate that wicked man. I have cut off his head." With that, he threw the head onto the ground.

Startled, Cheng said, "You are certainly a man of honor, but you have cut off another man's head and blood is running on the ground. Won't this bring trouble on you?" The scholar said, "There is no need to worry." He took out a little medicine and applied it to the head, then stirred the hair and stroked it, and all the traces of blood turned into water.

The scholar said to Cheng, "I have nothing with which to repay you, but I would like to pass this art on to you." Cheng replied, "I am not a practitioner of the Dao (the Way), and I dare not accept your instruction." The scholar then bowed deeply with clasped hands and took his leave. Though layer upon layer of doors were locked, the scholar vanished, and no one knew where he had gone.

Shentan Yuzhe (Fisherman of Shen Pool)

When Emperor Taizu of Wu served as Chief Patrol Commander of the Eight Camps of Luzhou, he came to Santan and stopped to rest on the riverbank. A fisherman rowed his boat up to him, held out a string of several fish, and said, "Just like these, your descendants will rise one after another and hold sway over a region." Then, pointing his hand at the surrounding land, he said, "All these mountains and rivers will belong to you." Emperor Taizu found the fisherman most extraordinary and was about to give him a gift, but the man left without once looking back.

Qu Tong

Qu Tong, courtesy name Wuting, was a native of Chenxi in Chenzhou. He had thick, elegant eyebrows, a broad forehead, a straight nose, and clear, handsome eyes; he was diligent in his work and sparing with words. In the fourth year of the Dali era, Yang Lin, a defeated general from Xichuan, served as Prefect of Liyang. He did not restrain his subordinates and allowed his follower Jia Zihua to lead a thousand men through Wuling and plunder the Five Streams region. The people of the Five Streams scattered in flight.

At that time Wuting was fourteen. He accompanied his mother in her flight to Wuling and lodged in the home of Huang Shanbao, a Daoist of the Peach Blossom Spring Temple (Taoyuan Guan) in Wutou Village, Chongyi District. Because of this, Wuting came to admire Shanbao and wished to take as his master Huang Dongyuan, a Shangqing Three Caverns master (a master who transmits the Shangqing and Three Caverns teachings of Daoism). Shanbao introduced Wuting and told Dongyuan in detail about the boy's aspirations. Dongyuan at first declined, saying that Wuting still had to support his mother and provide for her daily needs. Shanbao said, "Wuting's mother is staying in my house, and I am able to look after her. If you do not mind that they are poor, I hope you will accept Wuting." Dongyuan agreed, and afterward often supplied Wuting's mother with clothing and food.

Two years later, in the first month of the sixth year, Wuting's mother died. After burying her, he served Dongyuan with wholehearted devotion and never grew lax; he took on all manner of labor with full effort and without weariness. When he came across coarse food that others had thrown away, he always felt it was a waste and picked it up to eat himself.

In the seventh month, Dongyuan went to the market at Xiangyang to buy medicinal herbs. Each time they entered the city, he had Wuting watch the baggage, and Wuting would always sit with his eyes closed. Dongyuan rebuked him: "If you sleep in a crowd and someone takes your things, what then?" Wuting replied, "I was not asleep. I simply could not bear the clamor of the crowd." In the ninth month, Dongyuan was returning from the south. When he reached Yicheng, more than a hundred li from Xiangyang, he suddenly said, "The incense burner has been left behind at our host's house. What shall we do?" Wuting asked to go back and fetch it, and requested that Dongyuan wait where he was for a while. Before long, he had brought the burner back. Dongyuan asked him about it in astonishment, and he answered, "Master, you were on the road, and I feared delaying you, so I hurried." Dongyuan believed his words.

In the second month of the seventh year, Hu Shuqing, Prefect of Langzhou, invited Dongyuan to the prefecture. Dongyuan accepted and went, leaving Wuting in the mountains to tend the fruit trees and medicinal herbs. More than twenty days later, Dongyuan returned and asked Wuting what he had done in the meantime. Wuting said that after Dongyuan left, he had simply searched the woods for caves. Dongyuan asked what he had found, and he replied that he had seen a stone chamber, a stone bed, and a stone table. Dongyuan asked where the chamber was, and he said it was about a li and a half away. Dongyuan was puzzled but did not press him.

About ten days later, Wuting found a game piece in the garden and offered it to Dongyuan with both hands, saying that it was a game piece of the people of Qin. Dongyuan thought this strange and asked who had told him it was of Qin origin, but Wuting could give no basis for it. Examining it closely, Dongyuan saw that it was shaped like a small turtle, with a smooth luster like jade, and so he put it away in the pouch where he kept his records and documents. Later, Dongyuan opened the pouch to look; the seal inside was just as it had been, but the game piece was gone.

In the fourth month of summer, Wuting suddenly said to Dongyuan, "Please return to the cavern." At the time the rains had gone on for a long while, and Dongyuan, unsure whether to believe him, in the end did not go.

On the twenty-seventh day of the fifth month of the eighth year, early in the morning, Dongyuan ordered Wuting to go to the riverbank to watch over the boat. The riverbank was less than two li from their dwelling, yet Wuting did not return until noon. Dongyuan demanded to know why he was so late. Wuting said, "About fifteen paces to the southwest I saw a small bridge, and on the bridge I met an old man carrying a staff on his back, with something hanging from it. He told me to follow him. I did not dare, and so I came back late."

On the morning of the thirtieth day of the fifth month, Wuting took off the cloth belt he usually wore and bound his waist with a paper cord instead. He put on straw sandals and ascended to the Hall of the Venerable Ones; he also went to the place where Dongyuan conducted his solemn practice, burned incense, and prostrated himself. Then he took leave of Dongyuan and bowed again. Dongyuan, steadying himself on a low table, asked, "You are leaving me. Where will you go?" Wuting answered, "Back to the Cavern of Transmission." Dongyuan said, "May I go with you?" Wuting said, "You may not." Dongyuan asked why, and Wuting answered, "Earlier, Master, you were unwilling to go, and now you cannot." He also urged Dongyuan to choose a time to move his residence. Dongyuan said, "Changing one's dwelling every ten years is a rule left by worthies of former generations, and I had intended to do so. Now that you are leaving, when shall we meet again?" Wuting answered, "In eighteen years." Dongyuan wished to keep him but could not.

Dongyuan called over Zhu Lingfou, a fellow Daoist of the temple, and said, "Master Zhu, come see this heir of the teaching, who is about to depart." Lingfou looked at Wuting and said, "The boy's face is unusually radiant today." Dongyuan's disciples Hu Qinggao and Zhu Shenjing, along with the youths Chen Jingxin and Tan Bodi, were all in the garden watching. Wuting, wearing a short cloth tunic and a black head-cloth, slowly walked backward, and after he had gone three steps he suddenly vanished. Dongyuan and the other Daoists looked all about in astonishment. There was a chestnut tree in the courtyard, and Dongyuan, thinking Wuting might be standing beside it for a moment, said, "Could he be hidden by the tree?" The others searched but found nothing. Dongyuan struck the bell to summon the temple's Daoists and prepared to search the woods and fields. When the Daoists reached the edge of the forest to the northeast, they saw a huge snake blocking the path, and so they stopped.

In the eleventh year, Wuting's elder brother Juanxin came from Chenzhou. Hearing that his younger brother had ascended as an immortal, he came to Taoyuan and also took Dongyuan as his master, becoming a Daoist. Later he practiced in caves and mountain forests and traveled to Mount Song, and his end is unknown.

In the fourth month of the first year of the Jianzhong era, Dongyuan moved to Mount Lu in Jiangzhou; in the eleventh month of the fifth year of Zhenyuan, he moved again to Mount Mao in Runzhou. In the spring of the eighteenth year of Zhenyuan, a courier from Runzhou saw a young man walking ahead of him within the borders of Yanling County, his gait like that of an ordinary person. The courier quickened his pace to catch up but could never overtake him. By the time the courier reached Yanling, the young man had already reached the vicinity of Mount Mao; from afar the courier watched him enter the mountain gate at an easy pace.

On that same day, the Daoist nun Xiao Lingran saw a young man on the Crane Terrace, holding a small lacquer box in which lay a white letter. He walked to the mountain gate and stepped over the threshold. Lingran asked who he was, and he answered, "Qu Wuting." He then asked where Master Huang was. Lingran pointed out the way. Since he had given his name as Wuting, yet she could not at first recall it, it was only after a long while that she suddenly understood, and she hurried to tell Dongyuan: "Has Qu Wuting come?" Dongyuan answered only vaguely and explained nothing.

On a day in the early part of the eighth month, Dongyuan said to his disciples, "I am going to cross the sea," and had his travel gear prepared. Some thought the timing unsuitable and asked him to delay. A year later, Dongyuan departed at midday, transformed into a true being (huazhen).

Wen Zao, Prefect of Langzhou, says: The accounts that people relate of Qu Tong's ascent to immortality are mostly so strange as to be hard to believe. I was demoted in my youth to serve at Wuling, and upon taking up my post I questioned the local elders in detail, only to hear versions even more bizarre. Once, on a day of leave, I traveled along the Yuan River, and at the confluence of the Yuan and the Canglang I heard fishermen speak of this matter.

Wuting had a fellow student, Chen Jingxin, who lived with Dongyuan on five occasions and has since become a Daoist of the Peach Blossom Spring Temple, having changed his name first to Tongwei and then to Zhengchang. At first he too performed all kinds of labor, and later, through long practice, became well versed in the affairs of the Daoist community. Since accounts of this affair varied so widely, it seemed better to meet him in person. I thought of him day and night and sent for him, but he was long unable to come, and I feared I would never see him. Later the appointed day arrived, and in the morning the gate attendant brought Jingxin into the courtyard. He wore a cap of green wisteria and robes of deep green; his face was pale and cool, his beard white and his brows grey, his bearing upright and dignified, and he recounted the events with a solemn air. I was truly overjoyed.

After Jingxin arrived, he rested briefly and then calmly related the puzzling incidents, explaining them one by one. I then opened the old chest and took out the records to compare them, so as to dispel the doubts of later generations.

On the third day of the fifth month of the second year of the Changqing era, Wen Zao, Prefect of Langzhou, recorded the true account as transmitted by Chen Tongwei, Shangqing Three Caverns Daoist. This inscription was originally carved personally by Jian Xing; at some point someone ground off the carved text and recarved it, and now only a few characters remain on the side of the stele.

The Jianghuai yirenlu (Record of Extraordinary Persons of the Yangtze-Huai Region) ends here.

Notes: ① The original text reads "xu li" (須吏) here; based on the context, it has been emended to "xu yi" (須夷). ② The original text reads "ju" (具) here; based on the context, it has been emended to "qi" (其).