《云笈七签》Vol. 43

The Cui family hurried to prepare a meal. At the time, Zhang Juan had wanted to invite a painter to make a painting, but repeated bouts of severe cold kept the painter away, and he never arrived. Zhang Juan was resting against the wall when the old man picked up the brush and ink from the table. He painted a withered pine, a Daoist gathering medicinal herbs, and a deer following behind him. His strokes were swift, and his style was antique and lofty, as though the work belonged to no human world.

After the meal, the old man thanked them and left. Cui found the encounter extraordinary, so he treasured the painting and carried it with him. Later, while traveling through the Huaihai region, he met someone who appraised old paintings and asked him to examine it. The appraiser said, “This was painted by Ge Sanlang, the son of Ge Zhichuan—Ge Hong.”

In the early Xiantong era, Cui came to Chang’an and met a vegetable seller at Ba Bridge whose appearance resembled the old man’s. He asked, “Could you be Ge Sanlang?” The seller laughed and said, “No. Ge Sanlang was the son of Ge Zhichuan of the Jin dynasty. How could people in this world possibly recognize him?” Then he shouldered his vegetables and left, and no one knew where he went.

◎ The Yue monk Huaiyi

A monk from Yue named Huaiyi lived at Yunmen Monastery. During the Xiantong era of Emperor Yizong of Tang, one morning as he was about to enter the main hall to burn incense, he suddenly saw a Daoist. The Daoist looked at him and said, “There is a wondrous place. Would you like to go and see it?” Huaiyi agreed, and went into the mountains with him.

Flowers and trees flourished in the mountains, while the streams and rocks were quiet and beautiful. At times, ranges of peaks rose high into the clouds, with tall pines lining the paths; at other times, magnificent towers blocked the sunlight, and tier upon tier of city gates seemed to rest in midair. The strange sights they encountered along the way were too numerous to describe one by one.

After a long time, Huaiyi grew hungry. The Daoist had already noticed and said, “There are peaches of the immortals here. They bear fruit only once every thousand years, and will satisfy your hunger.” As he spoke, he handed Huaiyi a peach. It was as large as a two-sheng vessel, with an unusual fragrance and a splendid flavor unlike anything in the human world. After eating it, Huaiyi continued on. At times they walked across the water without wetting their clothes; at times they flew through the air without hindrance. Sometimes they leapt into the clouds; sometimes they swept their sleeves and flew aloft. They gazed up at the sun and moon and down at the Milky Way and the stars.

After exploring in this way, Huaiyi returned to where he had first been staying, only to discover that a year had passed. From then on, he no longer ate. He traveled throughout the human world, told his parents what he had experienced, and later left home to enter the Dao. He visited many immortal mountains in succession, continuing his search for numinous and wondrous realms. In the end, he departed and never returned.

Wang Kuo

During the Xiantong era of Emperor Yizong of Tang, the commoner Wang Kuo set out by boat from Jingzhu, intending to travel to Lake Dongting. The wind grew fierce along the way, and the boat anchored at the foot of Junshan. Wang Kuo and several others went ashore and climbed the mountain path.

Suddenly, they smelled wine. Wang Kuo asked his companions, but they all said they could smell nothing. After a while, the fragrance of wine grew stronger. He saw a cave in the cliff beside the path and, curious, went inside. After walking more than ten paces, he saw a hollow in a flat stone, filled with wine. He cupped some in his hands and drank. Its flavor was rich and sweet. After drinking a little more than half a dou, he felt at ease in body and mind, as though he were drunk…

This wine was exceptionally sweet and full-bodied. After drinking more than half a dou, he felt cheerful and lightheaded, as if drunk. He sat down to rest beside a cave in a hollow on the mountain, and returned only after he had partly sobered up. Aboard the boat, he told his companions what had happened. They all hurried off to look for the wine, but could never find it again. From then on, he felt well in both body and mind and no longer fell ill. Gradually, he grew tired of eating grains, and later entered a famous mountain to cultivate the Dao. After he left, he read the Immortals’ Scripture and learned that Mount Jun had Heavenly Wine, which could make anyone who drank it immortal. The wine he had found was this very wine.

Physician Yang

Physician Yang was a eunuch; his personal name has been lost. When he was eighteen, officials from the underworld came to seize him. He was not ill at the time, but he died. He regained consciousness only after a night had passed. He said that he had arrived in the underworld, where there were government offices and officials much like those in the human world. The underworld officials showed him a case file, and he saw his name clearly recorded in it, with his lifespan ending at eighteen. He did not plead for mercy or ask anyone to intercede for him. But someone standing nearby made a request on his behalf, asking earnestly that he be allowed to live again. After a long while, the underworld officials agreed and sent him back.

That person escorted Physician Yang for several hundred paces. As they parted, Yang thanked him gratefully, feeling that he could never repay the kindness of being given life again. He asked what the person wanted. “If you can give me a Ming-sha bow, I’ll be in your debt,” the person replied. He then gave Physician Yang more than a hundred large copper coins. Soon afterward, Yang awoke, his body restored to normal and free of discomfort. From then on, he searched everywhere for a Ming-sha bow but never found one. Some people made miniature palaces and houses, burned them, and sent them to the person as repayment; this was done several times.

Yang Po took a keen interest in alchemy and resolved to study the arts of elixirs and minerals. He was able to make the Soul-Restoring Elixir, said to revive the dead. When someone suddenly died of an acute illness, Yang Po would crush one pill, pry open the person’s mouth, and pour it in. The person would come back to life at once. He used this method to save several people.

A eunuch named Xiahou was given five pills by Yang Po. Later, Xiahou thought that underworld officials had taken him away, and while they were questioning him, he replied, “I have taken only one pill from Physician Yang.” The underworld officials then let him return. After Xiahou woke up, he took all four of the remaining pills.

More than a year later, a man in yellow came to seize him. He said that this time Xiahou was not being pursued by the underworld authorities, but summoned by Mount Tai, the spirit realm said to govern the souls of the dead. Xiahou followed the man in yellow to the foot of a high mountain, where there were palaces and towers. At the entrance, he saw two Daoist priests. They asked him what he had done during his life, and he answered each question. Then, slowly, he added, “I once took five pills from Physician Yang.” The priests immediately told him to go back. Xiahou bowed in thanks and said, “The power of the divine elixir has prolonged my life. May I change my name to Yannian, ‘Prolonged Life’?” The priests agreed, and from then on he used the name Yannian.

Yang Po had personally witnessed the elixir’s efficacy and often used it to save people. His son, Yang Xuan, was returning to the capital from the area around the capital. Before dawn, after traveling more than twenty li, he stopped to rest at a large estate. Suddenly, he heard commotion and cries of grief from within. When he asked what had happened, he learned that the estate owner’s son had died suddenly. Yang Xuan took a pill from his sash, had it crushed, and poured it into the young man’s mouth. After a short while, the man came back to life.

Yang Po’s household was well supplied with wealth. He resigned from office early and lived as he pleased, devoting himself solely to minerals and elixirs. He was never ill and lived to the age of ninety-seven. In his later years, he met a man carrying a bow and asked its name. The man replied, “It is called the Singing-Sand Bow.” Grains of sand inside the bow’s horn tips could move about. Yang Po bought the bow and burned it, in repayment to the person who had once saved his life. The record says that the recipe for the Soul-Restoring Elixir had been left by the person who saved him…

There was a man who suffered from an illness and lived until the age of ninety-seven. In his later years, he met someone carrying a bow and asked what it was called. The man replied, “This is called the Singing-Sand Bow.” Flowing sand was hidden inside the bow’s horn tips. After Yang bought the bow, he burned it to repay someone who had once saved his life. He had also seen the recipe for the Soul-Restoring Elixir, which he said had been taught to him by his rescuer. He prepared it in private, so no one else could learn the method.

◎ Xue Feng

Xue Feng, a native of Hedong (in what is now the area around Shanxi), served as prefect of Mianzhou during the Xiantong era of Emperor Yizong of the Tang. After holding the post for more than a year, he dreamed that he entered a cavern dwelling filled with many delicacies, though no one was in sight. He did not dare to eat and went back outside. Someone told him, “This is the Celestial Granary.” The Celestial Granary was said to be a cavern where food and drink arose naturally. The next day, Xue Feng told his guests and friends about the dream. One of them said that in Changming County, within the prefecture, there was a Celestial Granary where food and drink appeared on their own, and that travelers wandering through the mountains often found things to eat there.

Xue Feng sent the Daoist Sun Lingfeng and several attendants to investigate. They went more than ten li into the cave, still needing to hold up torches to see. After going another ten li, the cave gradually grew bright. Three to five li farther on, the passage suddenly opened into a broad space that seemed like the human world. The chambers in the cavern’s cliffs were spacious enough for a thousand people. The floor was level, and stone beds stood in rows. Many kinds of food lay on the beds, as if freshly prepared: soft and delicious, sweet and fragrant. After paying his respects, Sun Lingfeng ate some and cut off pieces of several dishes to take out to Xue Feng as proof that he had seen the Celestial Granary with his own eyes. But once he carried the food out of the cave entrance, it had all turned to stone.

Flour and kneaded dough lay scattered along both sides of the cave, and piles of salt and fermented beans were so abundant they could not be counted. After walking another one or two li, they came upon a swift stream, broad and deep. Across the water, they could clearly see mountains, rivers, and houses on the opposite bank, but they did not dare to cross and had to stop there. Footprints marked the nearby cliff slopes, going back and forth. Each was two or three feet long, and they looked as though someone had indeed walked there. When Xue Feng heard the report, he marveled at the place’s wondrous and numinous nature, but he was never able to discover its true cause.

I learned from studying the Gazetteer of Lands that Mount Shaoshi produces wild-grown grains, sweet fruits, divine fungi, and elixirs of immortality. After Crown Prince Jin of Zhou attained the Dao and became an immortal, he left enough grain to last for nine thousand years, stored on Mount Shaoshi.

Mount Shaoshi lies seventeen li west of Mount Song. From the eastern foothills, climb forty li, then descend ten li to reach “Upper Ding Si.” Continue another ten li, and a great stone gate stands along the way; this is “Middle Ding Si.” From there, go below the edge of a cliff, where a stone chamber contains water and is filled with white quartz. The chamber holds naturally formed scriptures and food. These accounts resemble the circumstances described earlier.

East of Mount Tiantai there is a cave. Go more than ten li inside, and you will find people living there, with many stalls in the market selling food and drink. During the Qianfu era of the Tang dynasty, a wandering monk entered the cave. As he passed through the market, he was very hungry. He smelled food, bought a steamed bun, and ate it. Another monk traveling with him practiced the ingestion of Qi, a method of cultivation centered on regulating the breath and abstaining from food. He ate nothing, yet was already full. The two walked more than ten li farther and emerged from the cave, only to find that they had reached Wuping County in Dengzhou. The monk who had eaten the steamed bun soon turned into stone.

These accounts suggest that even if one obtains the stone marrow encountered by Wang Lie or the dragon salve encountered by Zhang Hua, one must first accumulate hidden virtue over a long period to be worthy of consuming them. Only those born with the bones of immortals can ascend to the ranks of the immortals; if ordinary people eat these things, they are certain to turn into stone.

Shu Shi

In Shu there was a man surnamed Shu who met three or five starving refugees from Jin. Carrying wooden bows and bamboo arrows, they entered White Deer Mountain to hunt for a living. Just then, a herd of deer was startled and scattered, and the men split up to pursue them. One man saw a deer slip into a narrow crevice between two cliffs, just wide enough for one person to pass through, and followed it inside. After walking more than ten paces, he saw a densely built city, with streets and lanes and a thriving population. But the deer was nowhere to be seen.

He slowly made his way into the city and asked someone, “What place is this?” The person replied, “This is Little Chengdu. It is not a place ordinary people can reach, so you should not stay long.” He then left the stone cave, carefully memorized the way back, and told the story to Governor Liu Quan. Liu Quan sent people to accompany him there, but they could no longer find the original entrance.

Yu Zhongchong records in the Records of Yong and Jing that a few miles south of Xiyang County in Wuling stood a solitary mountain with steep, rocky slopes. On its summit, scallions grew in neat plots. After people paid their respects and prayed, the scallions would pull themselves from the ground, ready to eat, and tasted very good. A pond lay at the summit, where fish and turtles would come out to swim on the seventh day of the seventh month. A stone chamber halfway up the mountain held several thousand scrolls, said to be scriptures left behind by Daoist adepts in former times.

During the Yuanjia era, a man from the southern tribes went into the mountains to hunt deer. Pursuing one, he entered a stone cave. There was a ladder beside the cave, and he climbed it. Suddenly, the space before him opened wide, as though another world lay beyond. After walking several dozen paces, he saw mulberry and fruit trees growing abundantly, straight paths running through the fields, and many people going about. The man fled in alarm. He quickly carved marks into trees, then returned and gathered companions to search for the place again, but they could never find it.

Gu Yewang said that among the famous mountains between Heaven and Earth, there was more than one place containing wondrous grotto dwellings. Peach Blossom Spring and Mount Tiantai also belonged to this kind.

◎ The monk Wuxuan

The monk Wuxuan’s origins are unknown. Though he traveled from place to place as a monk, in his heart he was devoted to seeking the Dao (the Way). Places such as Taoyuan and Tiantai were among the destinations where people like him went in search of spiritual practice.

Wuxuan journeyed through the Three Rivers and Five Ridges, and among the famous mountains of Guizhou and Chu. There were few places he had not visited. Whenever he came across a grotto—the kind of cave said to be the dwelling or retreat of immortals—he went inside to explore. When he reached Mount Emei, he heard that it had seventy-two grottoes. Apart from Thunder Grotto, he visited them all, including the stone chambers among the cliffs and the deep, secluded caves.

Once, after resting for a long time beneath a great tree, he saw an old man coming up from below the mountain. They exchanged greetings, sat down, and began to talk. The old man asked where he was going, and Wuxuan gave a detailed account of his travels in search of famous mountains and numinous grottoes.

The old man said, “Famous mountains and great rivers all have grottoes, but unless you know a grotto’s name, you must not enter it rashly. You should consult the Record of Dongting and the Scripture of Mountains and Rivers to learn which mountain or river a grotto belongs to, its name, and its exact distance. You may visit only after confirming that it is a dwelling place of immortals and that it accords with the scriptures and records. Otherwise, a grotto might belong to thunder and wind, ghosts and spirits, the underworld, or dragons and serpents. Entering one by mistake could cost you your life. You may set out hoping to gain something, only to bring harm upon yourself. Be sure to take this warning to heart.”

Wuxuan was shaken for a long time by what he heard. He thanked the old man and asked, “Can the grotto-heavens of Mount Emei certainly be visited today?” The old man replied, “I dare not say much about the affairs of immortals. You need only visit the master of the grotto; you can ask him yourself.” Wuxuan then asked who the master was. The old man answered, “His surname is Zhang. He is now at the gate of Jiazhou, where he makes his living slaughtering animals and selling meat. He is the stout, middle-aged man.” With that, the old man took his leave.

Wu Xuan went once more to the entrance of the market to look for Zhang Sheng, and found him there. Wu Xuan told him what had happened earlier. Zhang Sheng said, “There’s no need to say more,” and told his wife to cook meat for a meal. He also brought out three plates of meat. Wu Xuan declined, saying he had not eaten meat for a long time. Zhang Sheng said, “To enter the mountains, you need ample vital energy and physical strength to keep going, so you do not grow hungry and exhausted. Without eating this, you will never reach your destination.” Zhang Sheng urged him repeatedly. Wu Xuan also wondered to himself whether this might be a test from the immortals, and so did not dare disobey. He ate two plates and was already quite full. Zhang Sheng continued urging him, but he truly could not eat any more.

After the meal, Wu Xuan rose to take his leave. Zhang Sheng bent down, picked up a small piece of roof tile, and handed it to him. “When you enter the mountains and reach the foot of the peak, you will find a cave entrance. There is a tall pine tree there, with a winding stream below it and a cliff beside it. This is the grotto dwelling of the Heavenly Perfected Sovereign. Tap on the door with the tile twenty or thirty times, and when it opens, go inside. At every door you encounter after that, tap in the same way, and you will reach the realm where the immortals dwell.”

Following Zhang Sheng’s directions, Wu Xuan entered the mountains and found the cave, just as he had described. He tapped on the door with the tile. After a long while, a doorway opened in the cliff face. Inside, the passage was high and spacious, with a level floor broad enough for carts and horses. Smooth blue stone lined both sides. Here and there, hanging springs flowed into channels alongside the road. After walking for more than ten li, he came to another door. He tapped, and it opened again. Beyond it lay a broad, level space. Flowers often lined the path, and the plants and scenery were strange and wondrous. Many people came and went, most of them beautiful women, immortal boys, and jade maidens. Immortal officials and Daoist priests also frequently passed by with their retinues and carriages.

When Wu Xuan came to another door, he struck it harder and harder until the tile crumbled to pieces, but the door still would not open. After a long while, he heard a thunderous crash. Thinking the mountain was about to collapse, he fled in terror. After running thirty or fifty paces, he found himself outside the cave entrance, and all the sights he had seen on the way in had vanished.

Wu Xuan went back to look for the master of the cave, but more than a month had passed. The butcher’s shop was still in the same place, but Zhang Sheng had been dead for more than ten days. From then on, Wu Xuan resolved to live in seclusion in a famous mountain and vowed to seek release from the world. He later entered Mount Emei, after which no one knew what became of him.

Fei Guanqing was from Chizhou. After passing the jinshi examination, he was preparing to return to his hometown and went to take leave of the chancellor Zheng Yuqing. Zheng had long been on good terms with Liu, the magistrate of Qiupu County. Hearing that Fei was leaving, he was pleased and asked him to deliver a letter to Magistrate Liu. The letter filled a whole sheet of paper. Zheng sealed it, handed it to Fei, and urged him: “Magistrate Liu spent a long time pursuing success in the civil service examinations, but never managed to qualify for the top or second tier. The reason was his impatient, forthright nature and his refusal to conform to prevailing customs. Later, he gave up seeking a high distinction and took the post he holds now. When you get there, be sure to treat him well.”

Fei insisted that Zheng add a few brief lines at the end of the letter about his own travels and recent circumstances. He felt that when Magistrate Liu read them, he would feel remembered and recommended, and might regard Fei with a little more favor. Zheng agreed, opened the letter, wrote a few lines, and sealed it again as before.

After Fei arrived in Qiupu, he first handed his calling card to Liu. Liu glanced at it, set it on the table, and paid it no further attention. Fei stood respectfully, waiting for instructions. After a long time with no response, he thought he probably would not be granted an audience, so he gave the Chancellor’s letter to the gatekeeper.

Liu opened the letter and read it. Then, in a slow voice, he cursed, “That old fellow Zheng—what does he want with a letter like this?” As he spoke, he tore it to pieces and threw it away. Fei grew even more apprehensive, but still pushed the door open, hurried forward, and bowed. Liu’s expression suddenly softened with pity, and he invited Fei to sit and talk.

It was already late. Liu urged him to find an inn. Fei said, “It’s dark now, and I’m afraid it’s too late to find a lodging. I’d like to spend the night beneath the hall’s covered walkway, sleeping on the bare ground. Tomorrow I’ll go to an inn.” As he spoke, he untied his own bundle and spread his felt mat on the ground.

Liu immediately swept his sleeve and went indoors. After a long while, he came out and said, “This is no place for guests. There’s a small loft where you can rest. I’ll sleep outside myself.” He then instructed those nearby to find lodging for Fei’s servants and companions. Taking the felt mat himself, he led Fei to a small loft behind the hall, directly opposite the main chamber.

Then Liu shut the door and locked it securely. Fei did not understand why, so he leaned against the couch to rest. The moon shone brightly that night. Peering through a crack in the door, Fei saw that all around was silent. Liu himself carried a broom and dustpan and carefully swept the main room, inside and out, as well as the courtyard, covered walkways, steps, and walls. Finding this strange, Fei sat upright, holding his breath. He dared not sleep and quietly watched.

As the second watch of the night drew near, a strange fragrance suddenly wafted in, unlike anything ever known in the world. After a long while, Liu came out holding a tablet and stood respectfully in the courtyard, as though waiting for someone. The fragrance grew stronger. Then they saw an immortal wearing a cloud crown and purple robes, eight or nine feet tall, with several dozen attendants clustered behind him. Liu bowed twice to the immortal and touched his forehead to the ground in salute. The immortal walked straight into the hall, while Liu stood by to attend him.

Before long, the hall was filled with a banquet: delicacies and unusual fruits covered the tables, and their fragrance filled the chambers. Hearing this, Fei Guanqing already felt his mind and spirit refreshed. Soon the immortal ordered music to be played and wine to be served. He also had Liu spread a mat on the floor, where Liu joined him in drinking. The melodies and instruments were unlike any music of the human world.

The immortal suddenly asked, “Have you received a letter from Zheng?” Liu replied, “I have. He is well.” After a while, the immortal asked again, “Have you received a letter from Zheng?” Liu replied, “Senior Fei Guanqing has come from Chang’an and brought a letter.” The immortal smiled and said, “Congratulations, Fei Guanqing. You have passed the jinshi examination. Are you here now?” Liu answered, “He is.”

The immortal said, “I should not meet him, but I will give him a cup of wine. Just tell him to begin his cultivation early, and then you will be able to meet in the future.” He ordered Liu to pour a cup and take it into the chambers. Fei Guanqing saw Liu take a sip himself, then go to the steps and empty out the water from a basin. This made him suspicious, so he did not drink.

Suddenly, the immortal descended the steps and departed with his attendants, riding on clouds. Liu bowed farewell to him, choked with emotion. The immortal instructed him, “When you see Zheng, simply tell him to cultivate; then you will be able to meet in the future.”

After the immortal had left, Liu and Fei went into the pavilion and found that the wine was still there. Liu exclaimed in surprise, “A wine like this appears only once in countless millennia. Why not drink it?” Fei pleaded persistently until he was given a sip or two. Afterward, Liu and Fei Guanqing became friends in the Daoist way and chose to live on Mount Jiuhua. The court summoned Fei Guanqing to serve as Left Reminder, an advisory official, but in the end he did not take up the post. Chancellor Zheng died not long afterward. Liu and Fei kept the matter very secret; no one knew which immortal had descended.

Zheng of Nanhai and Ren the Elder of Ziluo: This is the title of the next story.

Zheng Nanhai served as an official in the Liang-Song region. His cousin, the successful examination candidate Liu, lived in Ruzhou. Nearby stood Mount Ziluo, a numinous realm said to be inhabited by immortals. Liu was living in hardship and planned to travel to Liang-Song to ask Zheng Nanhai for help. On the way, he stopped at an herbal shop.

After Liu sat down, he saw a woodcutter sitting beneath the eaves, leaning against the wall. The shopkeeper repeatedly scolded him: “There are official guests here. How can you be so presumptuous?” Liu rose and straightened his robes. “I am only an idle man,” he said to the shopkeeper. “Since the woodcutter has come, he must have something to ask for—perhaps medicine, or perhaps he has met with some urgent difficulty. We should not send him away.” He then respectfully invited the woodcutter to sit and asked what he wanted.

“I only want a sheet of paper, a brush, and an inkstone,” said the woodcutter. Liu fetched paper and writing tools from the shop and handed them to him. The woodcutter wrote with an easy, composed air, then gave the paper to Liu. It read: “I hear you intend to go to Liang-Song, but a grave calamity is now unfolding there, and soon you will be falsely accused. You wish to visit Master Zheng, but misfortune will befall him. You will become a traveler journeying a thousand li, and the color of your clothes will change as well.” The note was signed, “The Woodcutter of Mount Ziluo.”

Liu was astonished as he read it. The writing was vigorous and graceful, far beyond the ordinary. As he was reading, the woodcutter vanished. A little over a month later, Zheng Nanhai was indeed accused and demoted, and transferred a thousand li away. Everything happened as the note had foretold. Liu then repaired a dwelling on Mount Ziluo and searched everywhere for the woodcutter, but never saw him again.

People treasured the letter. Later, when the rebels led by Chao invaded the capital, the letter disappeared, and its whereabouts became unknown.

Ren Sheng lived in seclusion on Mount Song, where he studied. He was single-minded and quiet by nature. At night, he often caught the scent of a strange fragrance. One day, someone suddenly spoke to him from outside the curtain: “By the decree of fate beyond this world, I am destined to become your companion, so I have come especially to meet you.”

Ren Sheng sensed she was no ordinary person and firmly refused to let her in. But the woman lifted the curtain and entered. She was in her twenties, with a beauty and grace rarely seen in the world. Two attendants stood beside her, one on each side, both dressed in blue and wearing their hair in twin buns. Late that night, she turned to them and said, “Take a sheet of paper from the gentleman’s books, and bring me a brush and inkstone.”

She wrote a poem and gave it to Ren Sheng:

“My name is entered in the registers of the immortals of Shangqing, the Daoist celestial realm. Exiled from there, I roam among the Five Sacred Peaks. Seeing that you are free of worldly entanglements, I have come to urge you to cultivate the Way of the immortals.”

She added, “I will come again in three days.” Then she left. The scholar read the poem and saw that her handwriting was graceful and elegant, which only deepened his suspicion that she was some kind of spirit or demon.

Three days later, the woman returned, just as she had promised. Ren Sheng was even more resolute in rejecting her advances. She said, “I am no mountain spirit or tree demon. I am someone whose name is entered in the registers of the Shangqing immortals. By the decree of fate beyond this world, our destinies accord, and I have been temporarily exiled to the human realm to seek a companion. Seeing how untroubled and detached you are, I wish to serve you. This would not only bring you blessings and ward off misfortune; I also hope you will enjoy wealth, rank, and long life. Yet you remain stubbornly uncomprehending. That, too, is the lot of one whose fate is meager.”

She gave him another poem:

“Even Ge Hong had a wife, and the Queen Mother of the West had a husband. The immortals all have gifted and lovely companions. What is your answer, sir?”

The scholar did not reply. He merely sat facing the wall. The woman offered him a third poem:

“Ruan Lang, bewildered and still unawake, why should I pour out my feelings again? Tomorrow the spring scenery of the sea and mountains will be lovely, and I will sail away in my painted boat.”

She sighed for a long while, then went out and walked a few dozen paces east. Her figure shimmered as it gradually rose into the sky. More than a hundred zhang above the ground, she could still be faintly seen among the clouds. Ren Sheng showed the three poems to others. They all concluded that she truly was an immortal, and they lamented that Ren Sheng had let such an opportunity slip away.

Several months later, Sheng fell gravely ill. He saw two men in yellow robes carrying documents to arrest him. “Your allotted years of life have come to an end,” they said. They led him away for more than ten li when, suddenly, he saw an endless procession of ceremonial attendants. Banners, staffs, streamers, and canopies stretched along the road. A woman rode in a carriage of green jade, surrounded by dozens of attendants. The two yellow-robed messengers stepped aside and hid at the foot of a wall.

The woman saw them and came over. “Who is this man?” she asked. The messengers reported the whole matter. She smiled and said, “He is the man who studied on Mount Song, whose lifespan was short.” Then she told the messengers to bring her the document. “You say his allotted years have run out. Since I have encountered him, I cannot simply leave the matter alone.” She took up a brush and amended the document, extending his life by three years.

Sheng bowed to thank her. The two messengers said, “She is the most honored immortal official in the service of the Three Su Yuanjun, a Daoist title for a female immortal. Since she has spoken, we can only return.” The messengers took Sheng back to his former home. He saw his own body lying on the bed. One of the messengers pushed him from behind, and he came to. For many days he sighed and lamented what had happened. Three years later, he died, just as foretold.

—Luo Gongyuan

On the night of the eighth month’s fifteenth day, Emperor Ming of Tang (Emperor Xuanzong) was admiring the moon in the palace, with Luo Gongyuan at his side. Luo Gongyuan asked, “Would Your Majesty like to visit the Moon Palace?” The emperor agreed. Luo Gongyuan tossed his staff into the air, and it transformed into a great bridge, shining like silver. He led the emperor onto it, and they walked for more than ten miles. Light blazed all around them, and the cold was piercing. At last they came to a great city. “This is the Moon Palace,” Luo Gongyuan said.

The emperor saw several hundred celestial maidens in white rainbow robes, dancing in a spacious courtyard. When he asked the name of the music, they replied, “Rainbow Skirts and Feathered Robes.” The emperor secretly memorized the melody. Before long, the two men were driven back by the bitter cold, and returned along the silver bridge. When the emperor looked back, the bridge gradually vanished behind them as they walked. The next day, he summoned the court musicians and had them compose a piece from the melody he had memorized. The music, called “Rainbow Skirts and Feathered Robes,” later became widely known.

The emperor wanted to learn the art of invisibility from Luo Gongyuan, but Luo kept it secret and refused to teach him. Enraged, the emperor chose ten skilled archers to lie in wait beside a wall, then summoned Luo Gongyuan for a conversation. They all loosed their arrows at once, and Luo fell where he stood. The emperor ordered him buried in the palace grounds.

More than a month later, an envoy returned from Shu and reported, “When I reached Luogu, I met Luo Gongyuan. He asked me to convey his greetings to Your Majesty and said that he has been waiting in Chengdu for Your Majesty’s arrival.” The emperor was greatly shocked and asked what Luo Gongyuan had looked like. The envoy replied, “He was barefoot and carried only one shoe.” The emperor then ordered the coffin opened. Inside, they found only a straw sandal, pierced by more than ten arrows.

After An Lushan’s forces entered the capital, the emperor fled to Shu. Someone calling himself “Wei Siyan” came to pay his respects, but when the emperor summoned him, he had disappeared. After thinking it over, the emperor realized that “Wei Siyan” was probably a way of splitting the characters of “Gongyuan” apart. Filled with remorse, he sighed again and again for several days.

◎ Luo Fangyuan

Luo Fangyuan was from Jiangxia. In spring, the provincial governor held a banquet, and crowds came to watch until the place was as packed as a marketplace. Suddenly, a man dressed in white passed by. He stood more than ten feet tall and looked extremely strange; the gatekeepers were astonished. A little while later, a boy walked past him and shouted, “Why have you left your place and disturbed the government offices?” The man gathered up his robes and ran away. The officials brought the boy to the banquet and reported what had happened to the governor. The governor asked his surname. “My surname is Luo, and my name is Fangyuan,” the boy replied. “I have loved the Dao since I was young. Just now I saw the dragon that guards the river enter the city to watch the banquet, so I ordered it to go back.”

The governor did not believe him. “How can you make such a wild claim? If there really is a dragon, make it show me its true form.” Fangyuan said, “Please put it to the test.” He dug a small pit beside the river, one zhang deep and one zhang wide, eight or nine chi from the bank, then diverted river water into it. The governor, his officials, and the people of the region all came to watch. After a while, a white fish five or six cun long swam into the pit with the water. It leapt about and gradually grew larger. Then green smoke rose like a strip of white silk. In the blink of an eye, black clouds spread across the sky; lightning flashed, and wind and rain lashed down. It was a long time before they subsided. The crowd saw a dragon in the middle of the river, its body joined to the clouds, its white light filling the river’s surface. After the time it takes to eat a meal, the dragon finally disappeared.

The governor submitted a memorial recommending Fangyuan. Emperor Minghuang was then taking a keen interest in matters of the immortals, and summoned Fangyuan that same day. The emperor was playing chess with Zhang Guolao and Ye Fashan. When the two saw Fangyuan, they laughed and said, “What skill could a country boy possibly have?” Each took a few chess pieces and said to Fangyuan, “There’s something here.” Fangyuan replied, “Your hands are empty.” They opened their hands and saw that the pieces had indeed vanished; they were all in Fangyuan’s hands. The emperor was greatly astonished. After that, he tested Fangyuan many times, and his arts worked with uncanny efficacy.

Li Shiji

In the first year of the Huichang reign, Censor-in-Chief Li Shiji was serving as regional inspector of eastern Zhejiang. A merchant was caught in a storm, and his boat drifted away until he no longer knew where he was. More than a month later, he came to a great mountain where auspicious clouds—clouds regarded as a favorable omen—hung in the sky.

In the first year of the Huichang era, when Censor Li Shiji was serving as Surveillance Commissioner of eastern Zhejiang, a merchant was caught in a storm. The wind drove his ship away, and he had no idea where it had drifted. More than a month later, the ship reached the vicinity of a great mountain. Auspicious clouds encircled its slopes, and strange flowers and trees grew there—sights unknown in the human world.

Someone came to meet the merchant by the mountain and asked how he had come there. After the merchant recounted what had happened in detail, the man told him to bring his ship ashore. Once the merchant had landed, the man said he was going to pay his respects to the Celestial Master, then led him to a place that looked like a grand Daoist temple. Inside, he saw a Daoist whose eyebrows and hair were entirely white. More than ten attendants gathered around him as he sat in the great hall. The Daoist asked the merchant to come forward and speak with him. “You are from China. Only because you have a connection with this place could you have come here. This is Mount Penglai.”

The Daoist had his attendants show the merchant around the palace. There were jade terraces and green trees, gleaming brilliantly, and dozens of courtyards, each with its own name. When they reached one courtyard, they found its gate firmly locked. Peering through a crack, the merchant saw flowers in full bloom in the pavilions and halls. Tables and cushions had been set out beneath the steps, and fragrant incense smoke curled through the air. The merchant asked whose courtyard it was. The attendant replied, “This is Bai Letian’s courtyard. Letian is still in China; he has not yet come here.” The merchant quietly committed these words to memory, then took his leave and returned.

Several dozen days later, the merchant reached Yue and reported what he had seen to the Surveillance Commissioner. Lord Li wrote down the whole account in detail and passed it on to Lord Bai. Bai had already withdrawn from the world of official life, abandoned his rank and honors, and retired to the mountains. Those who retire naturally take no interest in worldly affairs. How, then, could we know whether he was an immortal banished to the human world?

Yuan Zi

The Chancellor Yuan’s name was Yuan Zi. Before he rose to prominence, he lived around Fuzhou and Yingzhou. Qingxi Mountain in Fuzhou was exceptionally beautiful. One clear day, Lord Yuan climbed the mountain to explore. After walking several li, he found the mountain path growing increasingly secluded and narrow, with no sign of human presence anywhere around.

At the foot of the mountain lived a man dressed as a Confucian scholar, who made his living as a musician and had built a hut by the mountainside. Lord Yuan spoke with him and found they got along very well, so he stayed overnight at his home. Lord Yuan said, “The mountains and waters here are so wondrous that surely immortals dwell here.” The scholar replied, “There are five or six Daoists…”

The elder said, “The mountain springs and scenery here are extraordinary. This must be a place where immortals dwell.”

The Confucian scholar said, “There are five or six Daoist priests here, probably all people who have transcended the world. They come every few days, but I don’t know where they live. I’ve grown acquainted with them, yet they won’t say much.”

Yuan Gong asked, “May I go and visit them?”

The scholar replied, “They don’t like associating with outsiders, but they do love wine. If you bring a jar of good wine, you may be able to meet them.”

Yuan Gong took his leave and went home. Later, he prepared some fine wine and carried it there. After waiting for several nights, the five men appeared as expected. They wore coarse cloth robes and gauze hats, and carried staffs of goosefoot wood and wore straw sandals. After greeting one another, they began chatting and laughing, then went together to a clear stream, sat on the rocks, and washed their feet as they talked. The scholar arranged a place for them and invited them to drink. Delighted at the sight of the wine, the five asked, “Where did this come from? Come, let’s each have a few cups.”

The scholar said, “I didn’t bring this wine. A guest brought it to pay his respects to the immortal brothers.” As he spoke, he led Yuan Gong out and had him greet each of them in turn. When the five saw Yuan Gong, their expressions changed at once. They regretted drinking his wine and scolded the scholar: “You shouldn’t have brought an outsider here to disturb us.”

The scholar said, “This man is truly sincere, and he is a fellow man of letters, too. What harm is there in letting him sit here quietly with us for a while?” Only then did the five gradually calm down. Seeing how modest Yuan Gong was, they chatted and joked with him from time to time, and invited him to sit. Yuan Gong bowed again before taking his place.

After a while, as the wine began to take effect, the five looked at Yuan Gong and said to one another, “This man seems to be the monk who sat in meditation on Mount Xihua.” Much later, they added, “Yes, it is indeed him.” They counted on their fingers and said, “It has been forty-seven years since that monk was reborn.” They asked Yuan Gong how old he was, and he was exactly forty-seven. The five clapped their hands and said, “You should go seek an official post. Your good fortune and official rank have arrived.”

Then they clasped hands with Yuan Gong in farewell and crossed the caves and climbed the ridges. Grasping the vines, they leapt lightly along, their figures floating as if in flight, and soon vanished from sight. Yuan Gong later indeed passed the jinshi examination, became a prime minister, and served as military governor of the Xishu region.

During the Dali era of the Tang dynasty, a certain Wang, a gentleman serving in the Bureau of Waterways, was deeply interested in Daoist arts. Although he held an official post at court, he often spent time with people who had chosen not to serve as officials and took pleasure in occult arts. One day, several fellow Daoists were chatting and laughing with him in the main hall. Just then, Elder Pei was nearby, sweeping a roadside latrine and carrying away its filth. Wang’s wife told a servant to stop him. Elder Pei pressed his ear to the wall to eavesdrop on the conversation inside, laughing all the while. Wang’s servants found this strange.

A little later, after finishing his chores, Elder Pei met Wang outside the latrine as Wang was about to enter. Pei straightened his clothes, as though he had something to report, and said, “The gentleman is very fond of Daoist arts.” Wang asked in surprise, “How do you know, sir? Do you understand these things?” Elder Pei replied, “I have watched carefully and know that you truly are especially fond of Daoist arts; you simply have not yet met anyone who genuinely understands them. Most of those people in the hall just now are ordinary fellows. They can only mislead you, hoping to get food and drink.”

Wang felt that his words were unusual. His wife, however, scolded him: “You are an official of the court, yet you associate with this filthy man!” She then ordered someone to drive Elder Pei away. Pei smiled and agreed to leave. Wang tried to keep him there and said gently, “Please come and visit again in a couple of days.” Wang observed a period of ritual purification, bathed, and had the house cleaned. Elder Pei arrived wearing a plain cloth robe and carrying a staff, with the bearing of a recluse. Wang sat down to talk with him and offered him tea and wine.

Pei the Elder said, “The old gentleman plans to visit the day after tomorrow.” Wang Jun observed a purification fast, bathed, and cleaned the house. Pei the Elder arrived in a cloth robe, leaning on a cane, with the bearing of a reclusive scholar.

Wang Jun sat with him and made conversation, then served tea and wine. Pei the Elder said, “You, sir, do not truly love the Dao; you are interested only in the arts of refining elixirs. I can tell by looking at how you tend your furnace fire.” He took out an iron box weighing two jin, split it into two pieces, and put them into the fire. Before long, the iron pieces glowed red. From the corner of his cloth robe, Pei the Elder took out two pills, each as small as a millet grain. He crushed them, placed the powder on the iron box, and heated it again. After the time it takes to eat a meal, Pei the Elder said, “It is done.” He had one of Wang Jun’s servants, a burly man, lift the iron pieces with fire tongs and toss them to the ground. In an instant, they turned golden and took the shape of cockscombs.

Wang Jun bowed deeply and thanked him again. Pei the Elder said, “One liang of this is worth three liang of ordinary gold. But you need not keep it, sir. You should give it to the poor.” With that, he took his leave, saying, “From now on, I will not come again.”

Wang Jun asked, “I would like to pay a visit to your residence, Immortal Elder. Would that be convenient?” Pei the Elder replied, “You can find me behind the large vegetable garden in the West Ward of Lanling.” They then parted.

Wang Jun changed his clothes and went there. Sure enough, he saw a small gate. After he knocked, an old servant came out and asked, “Could this be Sir Wang?” He then ushered him inside. The residence was immaculate. Pei the Elder came out to greet him in Daoist robes, accompanied by more than ten exceptionally beautiful maids. The tea, wine, and fruit in the house were all rare and precious, and the furnishings and clothing were bright and splendid. At dusk, Wang Jun took his leave, and Pei the Elder saw him to the gate.

Ten days later, Wang Jun went back again, only to find that the residence had changed owners. He asked around about Pei the Elder, but no one knew where he had gone.

◎ Cui Sheng

The jinshi Cui Sheng often visited Qingshan for pleasure. Once, he removed the saddle and bridle and let his donkey roam, with no servant nearby to look after it. The donkey suddenly ran off, and he could not catch it. After pursuing it for about ten li, he came to the mouth of a cave. Dusk had fallen. The donkey ran inside, and Cui Sheng was afraid to go farther. Exhausted, he slept beneath a rock for the night.

At dawn, a faint light shone from the cave, and Cui Sheng ventured more than ten li inside. Between the rocky cliffs and valleys stood a golden city and vermilion palaces, guarded by armored soldiers carrying weapons. Realizing he had reached an immortal realm, Cui Sheng went forward and announced, “I am an ordinary man from the mortal world, and I wish to pay my respects to the immortal elder.” The guards hurried off to report his arrival, and before long someone summoned him inside.

In the hall lived an immortal dressed in feathered robes, more than a zhang tall, with several hundred maidens at his side. Cui Sheng approached and bowed. The immortal invited him to sit and talk, then gladly asked him to stay the night. The feast was filled with fragrant wines and rare delicacies, and exotic fruits covered the table. The immortal said to Cui Sheng, “This is no government office in the human world. Your donkey ran off so swiftly because I sent it to invite you. There is a woman here who is willing to marry you; this, too, was determined by fate long ago.”

Cui Sheng bowed again in gratitude and married the woman. A few days later, the immortal had someone bring him two pills from a green box and told him to swallow them. He felt his inner organs grow clear and open. His body seemed to shed its old shell like a cicada, becoming luminous and pure, like an infant’s. On the first and fifteenth days of each month, he and his wife rode cranes up to heaven to pay their respects at the Palace of Pistils.

More than a month later, Cui Sheng said, “My family are still in the human world. Please allow me to return for a visit. It is not that I am attached to the mortal world.” The immortal cautioned him, “Cui, you must not stay long.” Then he gave him a talisman, saying it could conceal his form if he faced danger in an emergency, but warning him never to wander into the forbidden palace grounds. As they parted, the immortal gave him another talisman and said, “Open this only when the need is urgent.” Then he ordered someone to lead out a donkey and hand it to him.

When Cui Sheng reached the capital, he tried searching for immortals in other people’s homes, but found none, so he entered the palace. Just then, Shu brocade embroidered with Taizhen designs was being presented from Jiannan. Cui Sheng secretly took some of the precious items. The emperor said, “A thief could not possibly have come here. Whoever took the things must be a demon.” He ordered Luo Gongyuan to perform a divination spell, writing characters in cinnabar on the door of the sleeping chamber to investigate. In the end, Cui Sheng was indeed identified.

Cui Sheng wrote down the whole story in detail, but the emperor did not believe him and ordered that he be beaten to death. Cui Sheng took out the talisman the immortal elder had given him before he left and pointed it at Luo Gongyuan and the executioners. They immediately collapsed unconscious and did not wake for a long time. The others reported to the emperor, “This man has already taken up residence in the upper realm. He is an immortal and cannot be killed. Even if he were killed, calamity would befall us, and it would bring no benefit to the state.” Only then did the emperor pardon Cui Sheng. Still doubting that the story was true, he sent several hundred people, armed and in uniform, along with practitioners of the arts, to escort him to the cave entrance.

Inside the cave, the golden city and crimson palace towers appeared once again. The immortal elder was in the hall, surrounded by numerous attendants whose bearing was solemn and imposing. He came out and called, “Cui, you did not heed my words and nearly met your destruction.” After paying his respects, Cui Sheng climbed up to the cave entrance. The escorting party also wanted to follow him in and see the golden city and crimson palace towers, the immortal elder’s hall, and his imposing attendants. But the immortal elder drew a river several yards wide on the ground with his staff. Cui Sheng’s wife threw out a scarf, which turned into a five-colored crimson bridge. Cui Sheng stepped across it, and the bridge disappeared behind him with each step.

When he reached the cave entrance, Cui Sheng said to the escorting party, “That is how things are. You may return now.” Before long, clouds and mist gathered all around, obscuring even the nearby scenery. They heard only the music of luan birds, immortal cranes, and flutes. From afar, the escorting party gazed toward the cloud-covered mountains and watched Cui Sheng depart. Only then did the emperor believe that he truly was an immortal.

Master Huang of Maoshan, a renowned Daoist mountain, had attained a high level of cultivation. He once built a Daoist temple at the foot of the mountain, with a hall for the Celestial Worthy, and set up an altar to expound the scriptures. Thousands of people came to listen each day. One day, just as the audience had gathered, someone suddenly shoved open the door and burst in, shouting. He was burly and dark-skinned, spoke crudely, and had a donkey whip tucked into his belt. He looked like a traveler accompanying a merchant caravan. He cursed at the Daoists: “The servants are in the middle of enjoying themselves. What are you doing here, luring everyone in? If you won’t go cultivate the Dao deep in the mountains, what gives you the right to preach such nonsense?”

Master Huang could not fathom the man, so he stopped his lecture and humbly apologized to him. Everyone was afraid and dared not talk back. After a long while, the man’s tone softened somewhat. “Have you gathered here to build a hall?” he asked. “How much money will it take altogether?” Master Huang replied, “Five thousand strings of cash.” The man said, “Bring over the broken iron pots and all the scrap iron.”

Master Huang suspected he was an extraordinary person, so he immediately ordered the temple’s various quarters to gather scrap iron. In the end, they collected about eight hundred pounds. The man dug into the ground to make a furnace, lit a fire, and melted the scrap iron. Then he took a gourd from his robe, poured out two pills, and stirred them into the metal with a tool. After a while, the fire was removed, and the scrap iron had turned into silver. “This silver is worth ten thousand strings of cash,” he said. “It is more than enough to build the temple. Please give what remains to the poor. The gain is not much; let the matter end here.”

Master Huang and his disciples respectfully thanked him and asked what he wanted. The man smiled, walked out the door, and disappeared.

More than ten years later, Master Huang was summoned to the capital by imperial decree. In a western market street, he suddenly saw the man with the donkey whip from years before. With a small cloth bundle slung over his shoulder, the man was following an old man riding a donkey, and looked nothing like he had at Maoshan. Master Huang was about to step forward and pay his respects, but the man waved him off and pointed to the old man on the donkey, bowing repeatedly. Master Huang had no choice but to bow to the old man. His hair was completely white, yet his face looked like that of a girl of fourteen or fifteen.

Lu Xiang’s given name was Qi. As a young man, he was extremely poor and rented a room with an old woman named Ma Po, who sold goods in the marketplace, in an abandoned house in the eastern capital. Ma Po lived alone. Lord Lu was once bedridden for more than a month. Taking pity on him, Ma Po often came to cook him porridge. After he recovered, Lord Lu thanked her repeatedly.

A few days later, one evening, Lord Lu returned from outside and saw a small golden carriage parked outside Ma Po’s door. Finding this strange, he watched discreetly. Inside the carriage was a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, with a face like an immortal’s.

The next day, Lord Lu secretly went to see Ma Po. She asked him, “Would you like to marry? If you would, I can arrange a match for you.” Lord Lu replied, “I am poor and lowly. How could I dare entertain such a thought?” Ma Po said, “Why should that stand in the way?”

That evening, Ma Po told Lord Lu that the match had been arranged. She told him to fast for three days, then meet her at an abandoned Daoist temple east of the city. When Lord Lu arrived, he saw only ancient trees and wild grass; no one had lived there for a long time. After a while, thunder and lightning broke out, and wind and rain swept in. Suddenly, towers and halls appeared before him, adorned with golden censers and jade curtains—a scene of great splendor. In an instant, a curtained carriage descended from the sky. The girl was inside.

The girl met Lord Lu and said, “By the command of the Supreme Emperor, I have come down to the human world to seek a companion for myself. You have the appearance of an immortal, so I asked Ma Po to convey my intentions. Fast for another seven days, and I will come to see you again.” She called Ma Po over and gave her two pills. Thunder crashed, lightning flashed, and dark clouds covered the sky. The girl vanished, and the ancient trees and wild grass returned all around them. Ma Po and Lord Lu went back together.

The two fasted for another seven days. Ma Po dug into the earth and planted the pills. Vines quickly sprang up, and before long two gourds grew on them, gradually becoming as large as urns that could hold two dou each. Ma Po hollowed them out with a knife. When the appointed seven days had passed, she and Lord Lu each climbed into a gourd. She also told Lord Lu to prepare three oiled garments.

Suddenly, wind and clouds roared up, and the two gourds rose into the clear sky. They heard only a sound like surging waves as the gourds drifted slowly eastward. Along the way, the girl asked Lord Lu, “Are you cold?” She told him to put on the oiled garments. Lord Lu felt as if he were walking through ice and snow, so she had him put them on one by one. Only after he had put on all three layers did he feel warm. Then she asked Ma Po, “How far are we from Luoyang?” Ma Po answered, “We are already eighty thousand li away.”

After a long while, the gourds came to a stop. Towers and halls appeared before them, surrounded by walls made entirely of crystal. Several people in armor stood there, holding weapons. Ma Po led Lord Lu inside. He saw the girl living in a palace hall, with hundreds of maids around her. She invited Lord Lu to sit and had wine and food brought out. Ma Po, meanwhile, held her breath and stood behind the guards.

The immortal maiden said to Lord Lu, “You may choose one of three things. Which would you like? First, remain in this palace forever, with a lifespan equal to Heaven’s. Second, become an earthly immortal, living among people and able to visit this place from time to time. Third, become a prime minister in the human world. Which do you choose?”

Lu replied, “To remain here is truly my greatest wish.” The maiden was delighted. “This is the Crystal Palace. I am the Lady of Great Yin, a female immortal associated with the Moon Palace and Great Yin, and I have already attained a high rank among the immortals. My lord should ascend to Heaven in broad daylight. As long as your resolve is firm and unwavering, no one else will be implicated. We must also report this to the Supreme Emperor.” She brought out blue paper and knelt in the courtyard to present a memorial.

After a while, a commotion arose in the northeast. The Heavenly Emperor’s envoy had arrived. The Lady of Great Yin and the immortals hurried down the steps to greet him. A procession of attendants and incense banners escorted a young man in red, who stood at the foot of the steps. The red-robed envoy read the Heavenly Emperor’s command: “I have received a memorial from the Lady of Great Yin stating that Lu Qi wishes to remain in the Crystal Palace. Is this true?” Lord Lu did not answer. The Lady urged him to reply at once, but he remained silent. She and those around her were terrified. They hurried inside, brought out five lengths of mermaid silk—a fine fabric said to be woven by mermaids—and offered them to the envoy, hoping he would delay making his report.

A while later, the envoy again asked Lu Qi whether he wished to remain in the Crystal Palace, become an earthly immortal, or serve as prime minister in the human world. Lord Lu answered loudly, “I wish to be prime minister in the human world!” The red-robed envoy departed at once. The Lady of Great Yin’s face changed, and she ordered Old Woman Ma to hurry and send him back.

Lord Lu then entered the gourd and once again heard the wind and rain from before. When he landed, he found himself back in his former home. The dust and bed inside were just as they had been; everything was unchanged. It was now midnight. The gourd and Old Woman Ma had vanished. Later, Lu Qi indeed became prime minister.

Long ago, Lu Sheng and Li Sheng lived in seclusion together on Mount Taibai, where they studied and practiced tu-na dao-yin, methods of nourishing body and mind through breathing and physical movement. One day, Li Sheng took his leave, saying, “I cannot endure a life of cold and hardship. I want to wander freely among the rivers and lakes.” And so the two parted.

Later, while working as a minor clerk in an orange grove, Li Sheng was cheated and found himself owing several thousand strings of government cash. He was detained and could not get away, and his circumstances grew more desperate by the day. One time, as he happened to pass A-shi Bridge in Yangzhou, he met a man wearing straw sandals and hemp clothes. Looking closely, he realized it was Lu Sheng, whom everyone had once called “Second Uncle.”

Li Sheng spoke with Lu Sheng and, seeing how shabby his clothes were, felt sorry for him. But Lu Sheng cursed him, saying, “What is there to be ashamed of in my poverty and low status? You refused to leave worldly affairs behind and threw yourself into petty, mediocre work. Now you are burdened with a huge debt and held in custody. What face do you have to come and see me?” Li Sheng hurriedly apologized. Second Uncle smiled and said, “I live nearby. Tomorrow, I’ll come on horseback to fetch you.”

The next morning, just as promised, a servant arrived on a fine horse and said that Second Uncle had invited Li Sheng to visit. Once Li Sheng mounted, the horse ran like the wind, carrying him out of the city and southward for several dozen li. Beside the road stood a residence with a vermilion gate half ajar. When Second Uncle came out to meet him, he wore a star crown and a rosy cape, garments commonly worn by Daoist figures. His appearance was radiant, and dozens of maids attended him. He looked entirely different from the man Li Sheng had seen beneath the bridge.

Second Uncle invited Li Sheng to feast in the central hall. The garden was lush with rare flowers and unusual trees, like a realm of immortals. He also brought out many medicines, each one a precious rarity. In the evening, he took Li Sheng to sit in the northern pavilion and had a banquet laid out. “A little while ago, I sent someone to fetch the rosy cape…”

Li Sheng hosted a banquet at the North Pavilion and said, “As it happens, we have someone here to keep us company who plays the konghou very well.” Before long, a woman arrived, guided by the light of red candles. She was strikingly beautiful, and the new piece she played was delightful. Li Sheng noticed ten characters written in cinnabar on the konghou: “At the edge of the sky, I recognize the returning boat; among the clouds, I make out the riverside trees.”

After the banquet, his second maternal uncle asked, “Would you be willing to marry? This woman comes from a distinguished family and is excellent in both appearance and character.” Li Sheng said, “How could I possibly be worthy of her?” His uncle promised to arrange the marriage. Then he asked, “How much do you owe the authorities?” Li Sheng replied, “Two thousand strings of cash.” His uncle gave him a walking stick and said, “Take this to the Persian shop and collect the money. After that, you can devote yourself to the Dao. Do not stain yourself or become entangled in guilt again.” At dusk, a servant brought out the horse Li Sheng had ridden before. His uncle told him to leave and saw him to the gate.

When Li Sheng returned, he was filled with surprise and doubt, and thought his second uncle must be an immortal. He took the walking stick to the Persian shop. As soon as the people there saw it, they asked, “How did you come by this?” Following his uncle’s instructions, Li Sheng collected the money and was finally spared detention and set free. Astonished and perplexed, he went back to his second uncle Lu’s residence to thank him, only to find a patch of overgrown weeds there. Disheartened, he returned.

That year, Li Sheng traveled to Bianzhou. The military commissioner Lu Changyuan gave his daughter in marriage to him. When Li Sheng saw the bride, he found that she closely resembled the woman he had met at Second Uncle Lu’s North Pavilion. She, too, could play the konghou, and cinnabar characters were still written on the instrument. Li Sheng examined it and indeed found the line beginning, “At the edge of the sky.” He told her in detail about the banquet at Second Uncle Lu’s pavilion south of Yangzhou. The woman said, “When I was young, my brothers wrote those verses as a joke. I once dreamed that an immortal official in the clouds was pursuing me, just as you described.” Li Sheng was deeply amazed, but after that he never saw Second Uncle Lu again.

— Li Shi

Before he rose to prominence, the Tang dynasty chancellor Li Shi was deeply interested in Daoist arts. On one of his travels through Mount Song, he heard someone groaning amid the wild grass. When he went closer, he found a wounded crane. The crane spoke: “I have already attained immortality, but misfortune befell me, and a woodcutter injured me. One of my legs is nearly broken. It will take several measures of human blood to heal it. You have the makings of an immortal, so I entrust this task to you.”

Li Shi loosened his clothes and was about to draw blood. The crane said, “Few people in this world are whole, and you are not entirely pure either.” As it spoke, it plucked out an eyelash and handed it to him. “Take this to the Eastern Capital, Luoyang. Look at the people you meet through it, and you will be able to recognize them.”

On the road, Li Shi looked at himself through the eyelash and discovered that he had a horse’s head. When he reached Luoyang, he met many people, none of them whole: some had the heads of dogs, pigs, donkeys, or horses. Later, on a bridge, he saw an old man riding a donkey. He looked at him through the eyelash and saw that the old man was whole. Li Shi bowed respectfully and told him about the wounded immortal crane. The old man gladly dismounted and held out his arm for Li Shi to draw blood. Li Shi collected it in a small bottle, took it back to the crane, applied it to the wound, and tore off a piece of his clothing to bandage it.

The crane thanked him. “In the time of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, you will become a chancellor. Later, you too will ascend to immortality, and we will meet again before long. Be sure not to lose your resolve.” Li Shi bowed to it, and the crane immediately soared into the sky.

◎ Li, Clerk of the Board

Recently, a newly appointed official named Li, a registrar, set out eastward after his wedding. Passing the Temple of Mount Hua, he took his wife inside to pay respects to the Golden Heavenly King, the deity of Mount Hua. Before she had finished bowing, she lost her breath and collapsed to the ground. Only the area over her heart remained faintly warm. People carried her back to the inn, while Li rode to Huayin County to seek a doctor. The county magistrate said, “Master Ye is skilled in magic arts. He has just returned from performing the ritual of casting a dragon into the water on imperial orders. He is about a relay station from here. Hurry and meet him.”

Li rode off alone at a gallop. After covering more than fifteen li, he met Master Ye. He dismounted, prostrated himself on the ground, and tearfully paid his respects to the master, explaining what had happened. Master Ye said, “What kind of demon would dare do such a thing!” He and Li hurried ahead to the inn, and he instructed his attendants, “Catch up quickly and bring the red bowl and the brush.”

When they reached the inn, they could already hear people weeping. Master Ye went inside to examine the woman and said, “This is urgent. Bring an ink brush and paper.” He wrote a talisman, burned incense, then sprinkled water over it. The talisman flew north with a sound like a fierce wind sweeping past, but for a long time there was no reply. Master Ye grew angry and wrote another talisman. Its sound was like thunder, yet after a while there was still no effect.

Soon the attendants arrived. Master Ye took the cinnabar brush and told the people around Li to cook a little thin porridge, ready to feed his wife when she awoke. Then he drew a talisman with the cinnabar brush, sprinkled water, and shouted a command in a voice like a thunderclap. In an instant, breath returned to the woman’s mouth and nose. She opened her eyes, but it was a long time before she could speak.

Master Ye asked what had happened to her. She said, “When I first began to pay my respects, the Golden Heavenly King said, ‘What a fine lady.’ When I bowed a second time, he said, ‘Keep her here.’ Then he sent someone at his side to escort me back to the inner courtyard. By then I had been dead for three days, and my family and friends had gathered around me. Suddenly I heard knocking at the gate. The gatekeeper went inside to report it. The Golden Heavenly King said, ‘Why haven’t you driven the visitor away?’ That was the first talisman. A while later, there was a commotion outside the gate, and several gatekeepers came in to report something in low voices. The Golden Heavenly King said, ‘Send them away first.’ That was the second talisman. Then a red dragon flew in. The Golden Heavenly King seized me by the throat and circled around me, and I could not make a sound. Later, he ordered that I be allowed to leave, and someone escorted me out. That was the third talisman.”

Li gave all his money to Master Ye in thanks. From this, one may see that women should not enter efficacious temples.

◎Lu Changshi

After passing the jinshi examination, Lu Changshi, Assistant Director of the Secretariat, was calm and unworldly by nature. He had no interest in high-ranking office or worldly gain and felt no attachment to either. Later, he resigned and set out for Dongluo. He told those close to him, “I have long been acquainted with Minister Yu of Zhexi. In about ten days, I’ll go to visit him.” He also said, “In a previous life, I was a monk. The place where I sat in meditation is still in Kuaiji, and I intend to go and see the old site for myself.” His family saw that he was preparing for a long journey but had made no arrangements for a boat, and wondered at it. Before ten days had passed, he died.

◎Lord Pei

When Lord Pei was young, a diviner told him that his fate belonged to General Lianzhen, one of the seven stars of the Northern Dipper.

◎Lord Pei

When Pei Linggong was young, a diviner told him, “Your fate is governed by General Lianzhen, one of the seven stars of the Northern Dipper. You should regularly honor him with pure wine and fine fruit. In this way, you will receive his unseen protection.” Pei followed this advice ever after, never neglecting it.

Later, when he became a chancellor, his official duties grew so demanding that he gradually forgot his former promise. He felt remorseful, but never mentioned it to anyone; even his family and children knew nothing of it. One day, a Daoist practitioner came to the capital and stayed at Pei’s residence. At midnight, he said to Pei, “My lord, why have you stopped midway in your former devotion to the heavenly deity? If you continue to honor him reverently, the spirit will remember your devotion.” Pei knew he meant General Lianzhen, but did not know whether the deity would truly manifest.

Later, Pei was appointed military governor of Taiyuan. When a member of his household fell ill, he summoned spirit mediums to investigate. One of the women was playing a huqin when she suddenly collapsed to the ground. After a long while, she sprang to her feet and said, “Let me see my lord. General Lianzhen has sent me with a message: ‘Why are you so heartless, my lord? Have you completely forgotten me? The general is furious. Why do you not respectfully apologize to him?’” Pei was greatly shaken. The medium continued, “Choose an auspicious day. Fast and purify yourself, burn incense in a quiet courtyard, and set out wine and fruit. The general also wishes to let you see him.”

On another day, Pei bathed, changed his clothes, and put on his court robes. Standing before the steps, he faced southeast, offered wine, and bowed twice. He saw a divine general clad in golden armor and holding a red halberd. More than three zhang tall, the figure stood facing south. Pei was so terrified that he broke into a sweat and collapsed face down, afraid to move. After a while, the divine general vanished. Pei asked those around him, but they all said they had seen nothing. From then on, Pei honored General Lianzhen with even greater reverence than before.

Fascicle 113, Part Two: Biographies Section, Biographies 12

Preface to the Continued Biographies of Immortals

From ancient times to the present, people throughout the world have heard stories of the immortals, yet ordinary people rarely witness with their own eyes the immortals’ ascension, concealment, or transformations. The sages of old said that among those who attain immortality in this world, perhaps not even one in a thousand is heard of. Moreover, since the histories do not record matters concerning immortals, many of their deeds have not been passed down. A close look at the purpose of the histories shows that they use the ethics governing ruler and subject, father and son, together with teachings on governing the state, loyalty, and filial devotion, to guide later generations. If the way of life that prizes stillness, Wuwei (non-action), and following nature were strongly promoted, people would be less easy to restrain. The Records of the Grand Historian says that three sacred mountains lie in the sea, where immortals dwell in palaces built of gold and silver, and the herb of immortality grows on the mountains. Those who tried to reach them found that the wind blew their boats away, so they could never arrive. This, too, was intended to encourage people to accept restraint and observe the rules.

The affairs of the immortals are truly vast, and their numinous transformations are beyond conjecture. In the early stages of cultivation, practitioners of the Dao must hold fast to the One—that is, keep the mind and spirit focused—and refine Qi (vital energy). They strictly follow the rules, work diligently, and dare not overlook even the smallest detail. Once their cultivation is complete, they can undergo countless transformations and move among ordinary people: some live in seclusion in the mountains and forests, while others come and go in cities. Those who ascend to immortality most often travel to the mountain ranges in the sea. With profound accumulated merit, one can become an immortal official; those of lower rank can become immortal subjects. It is said that among the Ten Isles, the legendary realms of the immortals in the sea, the immortal communities number tens of thousands of households. They cultivate fields of sacred fungi and calculate their harvest by the acre, just as people grow rice. Thus, immortal officials oversee the immortal subjects and also govern the immortals and ordinary people in the human world. Those who conceal themselves and transform are like cicadas shedding their shells: they leave behind their old bodies and take on new forms. They refine Qi and nurture their bodies in rocky caverns, then ascend to become true immortals. From this, we can see that the attainment of immortality is indeed no mere fiction.

Shen Fen had admired Daoist practices from an early age and often felt ashamed of the habits he had cultivated over many years. As an adult, he pursued an official career and traveled widely across the realm. Whenever he heard the words of an accomplished person, read accounts in biographies, or learned of events firsthand, he committed them to memory and wrote them down.

The official histories did not record such matters, while the materials passed down among the people were scattered and inconsistent. Moreover, after the upheavals of the Zhonghe era, many texts were still missing. Who, then, could take up the brush to record and recount these deeds? If this continued, those who knew of them would gradually grow fewer—a real pity. Shen Fen therefore compiled the relevant accounts into three volumes, hoping they would give gentlemen who enjoy such records and those who cultivate the Dao material for discussion and reference, and bring the deeds of those who attained the Dao and became immortals to light.

The compiler, Shen Fen, then held the rank of Court Gentleman for Audience (Chaoqing Lang). He had served as magistrate of Lishui County and concurrently as an Investigating Censor, and had been granted a crimson official robe and a fish-shaped insignia. “Master Xuanzhen” is the title of the following section.

Xuanzhenzi, surnamed Zhang and named Zhihē, was from Shanyin in Kuaiji. He was widely learned and skilled at writing, and once passed the jinshi examination. He was also a gifted painter. It was said that he could drink three dou of wine without getting drunk. He cultivated the true Dao and nurtured his primordial Qi; legend held that he felt no cold when lying in the snow and that his clothes stayed dry when he entered the water. He traveled through the mountains and rivers of many regions.

Zhang Zhihē was close friends with Duke Lu, Yan Zhenqing. When Yan was serving as governor of Huzhou, he once drank with his guests, and together they composed Songs of the Fisherman. The first poem in the exchange was Zhang Zhihē’s:

“White birds fly beside Xisai Mountain;

peach blossoms drift on flowing water, and the mandarin fish grow plump.

A blue bamboo hat, a green grass cloak—

in slanting wind and fine rain, there is no need to go home.”

The meaning is this: White birds fly beside Xisai Mountain; peach blossoms drift along the spring water, and the mandarin fish are plump. With a blue hat on his head and a green rain cape over his shoulders, the fisherman need not hurry home, even as slanting wind and fine rain fall.

Yan Zhenqing then composed poems in response with Lu Hongjian, Xu Shiheng, Li Chengju, and others. They wrote twenty-five poems, admiring and praising one another’s work. Zhang Zhihē had someone prepare pigments and white silk. As he painted scenes, he matched them with lines of verse, and soon completed five scrolls. The flowers, trees, birds, fish, mountains, rivers, and wondrous sights in the paintings were all exquisitely rendered, rarely seen in any age. Yan Zhenqing and his guests passed the works around and marveled at them.

Later, when Yan Zhenqing traveled east to Pingwang Station, Zhang Zhihē was in high spirits from drinking and gave a performance on the water. He spread a mat on the surface, sat on it alone, drank wine, and recited poetry. The mat moved across the water, changing speed and direction at will, as if someone were rowing it. Clouds and immortal cranes accompanied him, circling above the mat. Yan Zhenqing’s relatives, friends, and officials were all astonished by the sight. Before long, Zhang Zhihē bowed with his hands clasped to thank Yan Zhenqing, then rose into the sky and departed. Even today, people in the human world still treasure his paintings.

◎ Lan Caihe

No one knew where Lan Caihe came from. He often wore a worn-out blue robe and a black wooden belt, a little over three inches wide, decorated with six plaques. One foot was booted; the other was bare. In summer he stuffed padding inside his robe, yet in winter he would lie in the snow, breathing out clouds of steam.

He often sang as he begged in the city, carrying a large clapper more than three feet long. When drunk, he would dance along to his songs. Young and old alike followed him to watch. Quick-witted and eloquent, he joked as he spoke. Whatever people asked, he answered offhand, often making everyone laugh. He seemed mad, yet not quite mad.

Stepping to the rhythm and shaking his shoes, he sang: “Step, step, sing—Lan Caihe. How long can this world last? A youthful face is like a tree in spring; the years fly past like shuttles. The ancients have all departed, never to return; people come and go today, and their numbers grow ever greater. At dawn I ride a luan phoenix up to heaven; at dusk I watch mulberry fields turn into white waves. Bright sunlight hangs high in the sky; golden and silver palaces tower in splendor.” Most of his songs came to him on the spot, yet all carried the flavor of the immortals, beyond the understanding of ordinary people.

When people gave him money, he threaded it onto a cord and dragged it along. Sometimes the coins fell, and he never looked back. At times he saw poor people and gave them money; at other times he gave it to wine shops. He wandered far and wide. Some people had seen him as children, then met him again when their own hair had turned white, yet his appearance remained unchanged.

Later, he was singing and dancing around Hao and Liang. After getting drunk, he went up to a tavern. Suddenly, the sound of cloud cranes and sheng pipes filled the air. He rose gently into the sky and, amid the clouds, let fall his boots, robe, belt, and clapper before slowly disappearing. The things he left behind also vanished soon afterward.

“Zhu Ruzi” is the title of the next section.

Zhu Ruzi was from Angu in Yongjia. From childhood, he followed the Daoist Wang Xuanzhen in cultivating the Dao, living at Daluo Cliff. Daluo Cliff was also known as Zhen’gao Cliff. According to tradition, Tao the Recluse once composed and revised the Zhen’gao there; Mount Tao lies west of the cliff.

Zhu Ruzi served Wang Xuanzhen diligently and deeply admired the way of the immortals. He often climbed the mountain to gather and consume yellow essence, doing so for more than ten years. One day, while washing vegetables by a stream, he saw two little flower-marked dogs beside the bank. Curious, he followed them. The two dogs slipped beneath a cluster of wolfberry bushes. He returned and told Wang Xuanzhen, who was also astonished, and the two went together to investigate. They saw the little dogs playing again. When they approached to chase them, the dogs once more slipped beneath the wolfberry bushes.

Wang Xuanzhen and Zhu Ruzi dug together and found two wolfberry roots shaped like little flower-marked dogs, hard as stone. They washed the roots and took them back to boil. Zhu Ruzi kept the fire going and watched the stove day and night, without leaving for three days. He tasted the broth and found it delicious, so he kept taking more. Once the wolfberry roots had softened, he told Wang Xuanzhen, and the two ate them together. Before long, Zhu Ruzi suddenly ascended into the sky and appeared on a nearby mountain peak. Wang Xuanzhen was astonished. A little later, Zhu Ruzi bade him farewell and departed on a cloud. To this day, local people call that peak “Boy Peak.”

Later, Wang Xuanzhen also finished eating the remaining wolfberry roots. No one knows how long he lived. He later withdrew to a life of seclusion west of the cliff. People gathering medicinal herbs or hunting on Mount Tao would sometimes catch sight of him.

Elder Wang

Wang, an elderly man from Yijun County in Fangzhou, lived in the countryside. He loved Daoist arts and enjoyed welcoming guests. He made it his wish to do good without seeking anything in return. His wife shared his values and was equally glad to help others.

One day, a Daoist in tattered clothes came to their home. Wang and his wife welcomed him together and treated him with respect. The Daoist stayed for more than a month. Every other day, he and Wang discussed subtle and mysterious principles, drinking wine as they talked. They got along very well.

Before long, the Daoist was covered in terrible sores. Wang searched everywhere for doctors and medicine, caring for him with even greater diligence, but the Daoist’s condition worsened day by day. When nearly a year had passed, the Daoist said, “Ordinary medicine won’t help. Just get several hu of wine and immerse me in it, and I will recover.” Wang then set about brewing wine. When it was ready, the Daoist asked him to pour it into a large urn. He said he would add medicine to it, then took off his clothes and climbed inside. He did not emerge for three days. When he came out, his hair and temples had turned black, his face had returned to the appearance of a youth, and his skin was smooth as congealed fat.

Wang’s entire family was astonished. The Daoist told Wang, “This wine can be drunk. It can make people ascend to Heaven.” Wang believed him. The urn had originally held more than five hu of wine, but when they checked it later, only two or three dou remained. The wine was clear, fragrant, and delicious, unlike ordinary wine. At the time, Wang was with two men who had come to help thresh wheat, so he shared the wine with them. Everyone drank until they were drunk. The Daoist also drank some, then asked Wang, “Are you willing to ascend to Heaven?” Wang replied, “I’m willing to follow you, Master, wherever you go.”

At once, an auspicious wind rose, and colored clouds billowed like vapor. The house, the plants and trees, the whole family, and even the chickens and dogs all ascended into the air. The sound of threshing wheat could still be heard above. People in several nearby villages saw it and marveled. Only the cat and the mice were left behind; they did not ascend with the others. When the wind died down, the two men who had helped thresh the wheat were left beneath a tree in another village. Afterward they no longer needed to eat, and both lived to a great age. To this day, a place called “Immortal Ascension Township” lies thirty li west of Yijun County.

Hou Daohua claimed to come from Mount Emei and lived at Yongle Abbey, a Daoist temple in Hezhong. He looked like a madman, and the Daoists at the abbey all looked down on him. Whenever part of the temple needed repair, he would take an axe and fix it himself. He could also climb to high, dangerous places that others could not reach. He often took on menial chores as well: whether visitors were Daoists or ordinary people, he carried water for them, heated it, washed their feet and clothes, cleaned the latrines, and watered the gardens. He endured every hardship to serve everyone. For this, people held him in even greater contempt. They scolded and ordered him about, treating him more harshly than a servant, yet he only grew happier.

Hou Daohua often read scriptures and histories, never letting a book leave his hands. After reading something once, he could recite it from memory. When people asked what use there was in reading such books, he replied, “There can be no ignorant immortals in Heaven.” Everyone laughed at him.

More than ten years later, a divine light would sometimes appear on the beam of the main hall, and many people saw it. According to the story, during the Kaiyuan era, Celestial Master Liu had once refined an elixir and tested it on a dog. The dog died after eating it, and people dared not take the elixir, so they hid it in the hall’s beam. Everyone thought this story absurd. Later, a violent storm broke out and slightly damaged the main hall. Hou Daohua climbed onto the beam, saw a hollow spot glowing with light, and chiseled into the wood. Inside, he found a box containing three nested smaller boxes. The innermost held a small gold box filled with elixir pills. He swallowed the pills and threw the boxes down. After taking them, he showed no immediate change, so everyone concluded that the story had been false.

One day, Hou Daohua returned from town drunk. In front of the abbey stood a pine tree with a broad, umbrella-like canopy, a beautiful sight. Wearing wooden clogs, he climbed the tree and cut off all its branches. The Daoists repeatedly tried to stop him, but he ignored them and said only, “One day it will hinder my ascent to Heaven.” Everyone had always taken him for a madman, and now they grew even angrier. Just then, the magistrate of Yongle County arrived. His attendants saw Hou Daohua cutting the pine and found it strange. The others reported the matter to the magistrate, who scolded and humiliated him. Hou Daohua remained delighted.

Seven days later, Hou Daohua rose early, bathed, changed his clothes, and burned incense. “The immortal envoys are coming to receive me,” he said. Then he kept bowing toward the sky. The others still did not believe him. After a while, someone said they could see clouds and immortal cranes circling above the pine tree in front of the abbey…

Before long, the sound of flutes and reed pipes filled the air. Daohua suddenly rose into the sky and sat atop a pine tree. A long time passed, and everyone grew alarmed. Officials and clerks from Yongle County, along with local Daoists and residents, hurried over to pay their respects. The county magistrate scolded and humiliated Daohua, who bowed until his forehead bled. Daohua clasped his hands and thanked the crowd. “By the Jade Emperor’s decree, I have been appointed a Gentleman of the Immortal Terrace and placed in charge of the Hall of Good Faith at the Shangqing Palace. Now I must depart.” Soon, a company of immortals in the clouds began to play music; banners and ceremonial attendants appeared and vanished from sight, and Daohua rode away on a cloud.

Ma Ziran

Ma Xiang, whose courtesy name was Ziran, came from Yanguan in Hangzhou. For generations, his family had served as minor clerks in the county office. Ma Xiang alone loved the classics and histories, devoting himself to the study of literature and learning. Later, he followed a Daoist and traveled throughout the land. After returning to Jiangnan, he often got drunk in Huzhou and once fell into the Zha River. He did not emerge until a day later, yet his clothes were dry. Sitting on the surface of the water, he came to shore and told people, “Just now, King Xiang summoned me to drink with him. I stayed until I was almost drunk before returning.”

Crowds gathered along the riverbank like clouds. The smell of wine still wafted from Ma Xiang, and his manner seemed so wild that passersby often followed him to watch. Sometimes he would push his fist into his nose, then pull it out, and his nose would return to normal. He once pointed at the river and made it flow backward. After the time it takes to eat a meal, he directed a willow tree to move back and forth along the river. He pointed at a bridge, and it broke apart, then joined together again.

Later, Xiang traveled as far as Changzhou, where he met Ma Zhi, the governor of Changzhou. Ma had long heard of Xiang’s reputation, so he invited him to meet, received him with due ceremony, and treated him with great respect.

Ma Zhi asked, “Brother Dao, we are fortunate to share the same surname. Would you be willing to become my sworn brother and teach me a little Daoist art?” Xiang asked, “What would you like to obtain, my lord?” Ma replied, “Fufeng.” Xiang joked, “My lord is Fufeng, and Ma Xiang is Ma Feng. Oxen and horses may know of one another, but that does not make them kin.” He was playing on the saying “oxen and horses do not meet,” meaning that he and Ma Zhi had no special connection. Ma nevertheless kept Xiang at the government offices and showed him even greater respect.

At a banquet, Ma Zhi asked Xiang to demonstrate a small marvel. At the table, Xiang filled a porcelain vessel with soil and planted a melon seed. In moments, a vine grew, flowered, and bore fruit. When the melon was cut and eaten, the guests praised its fragrance and sweetness, saying it was unlike ordinary fruit. Xiang then drew out many coins from his body and socks—so many they could not be counted. They were all bronze coins. He gathered them up and tossed them into a well. At his call, the coins flew out one by one. When someone reached out to take one, it soon vanished.

Ma Zhi also said that the city was overrun with rats. Xiang wrote a talisman and had it pasted beneath the southern wall. Then he tapped a plate with chopsticks and let out a long whistle. Rats came running in groups and crouched beneath the talisman. Xiang called over a large rat and said to it, “You petty little creature, the heavens and earth provide you with food. Why do you burrow into the ground, damage houses, and disturb my lord day and night? I am compassionate and do not wish to kill you. You should lead your companions away at once.” The large rat turned back, and the whole group came forward together, bowing their heads to beg forgiveness. Then they formed a line and left through the city gate, in numbers too great to count. From that day on, there were no rats in the city.

Later, Xiang traveled south to Yuezhou. Passing by Dongyan Chan Monastery, he found three or four hundred monks taking their meal. Xiang and Wuzhou…

Wang Zhiwei, a Daoist from Muma Rock in Yongkang County, traveled with his disciple Wang Yansou. When the monks saw Xiang, he was crouched down eating. He neither bowed nor greeted them, but simply told someone to bring him food. Xiang did not eat. He urged Zhiwei and Yansou to finish quickly and leave. Before the monks had finished their vegetarian meal, the three had already gone.

Outside, Xiang urged them to hurry again. They reached an inn south of Zhuji County, more than seventy li from the Chan monastery. Late that night, they heard someone searching for Daoist priests. The innkeeper quickly answered that there were three Daoists staying there. The caller was delighted and asked the innkeeper to bring him to them. Two monks entered, bowed to Xiang, and pleaded, “The monks at the monastery did not recognize you, Daoist Master, and failed to welcome and serve you properly yesterday, which made you angry. Several hundred monks are now unable to get out of bed. We two are in charge of the monastery. We were able to leave because we did not attend the communal meal, and have come to beg your forgiveness.”

Xiang simply went on sleeping and did not reply. Zhiwei and Yansou laughed. The monks pleaded even more earnestly. Xiang got up and said, “Do not harbor contempt for others again. Once you return and enter the monastery, the monks will be able to get out of bed.” The two monks returned, and events unfolded just as Xiang had said.

The next day, Xiang continued south. It was spring, and he saw a household growing tender Chinese cabbage. He asked the owner for some, but was refused and insulted. Xiang asked Yansou to bring paper and a brush. Zhiwei said there was no point arguing over being refused some cabbage, especially for someone who had taken up the Daoist path. How could such conduct be appropriate? Xiang smiled and said, “I’m not trying to argue. I’m just playing a little joke.”

Yansou brought the paper and brush. Xiang drew an egret and sprinkled water over the picture. The egret flew into the vegetable plot and began pecking at the cabbage. The owner chased it away, but it flew up and landed again, repeating this several times. Xiang then drew a guozi, an animal named in the original text, and sent it after the egret. The two animals trampled the plot together, leaving the vegetables in a mess. Seeing that the Daoist seemed to be making fun of him, and fearing they might use other magical arts, the owner hurried over to plead with them. Xiang said, “I didn’t come to ask for cabbage. I was only teasing you.” Then he called the egret and the guozi, and both came flying and running into his arms. When they looked again, the vegetable plot had returned to its original state, completely undamaged.

Later, Xiang and the others traveled south to Mount Huotong. They entered Changxi County and lodged at an inn for the night. The guest quarters were small, but already crowded with travelers. The innkeeper jokingly said there was no room for them unless the Daoists could sleep on the wall. As dusk fell, Zhiwei and Yansou said, “If you can arrange lodging for us, why insist that we sleep on the wall?” Xiang replied, “You two sleep as travelers normally do. I can sit here until dawn.”

After everyone had gone to sleep, Xiang leapt onto a roof beam, hooked one foot over it, and slept hanging upside down. By chance, the innkeeper got up during the night and shone a candle on him. He was astonished. Xiang said, “If sleeping on a beam is possible, what is so difficult about sleeping on a wall?” With that, he entered the wall and did not come out for a long time. The innkeeper repeatedly begged his forgiveness and invited Zhiwei and Yansou to rest in a quiet room inside. Only then did Xiang emerge. At daybreak, the innkeeper tried to persuade them to stay, but the three suddenly vanished. Zhiwei and Yansou went a few li down the road looking for Xiang and found him already waiting by the roadside.

After returning from Mount Huotong to the Tianbao Abbey east of Yongkang County, Xiang settled there. In front of the abbey stood a dead pine tree. Pointing to it, Xiang said, “This pine is no longer where it used to be.” Zhiwei and Yansou walked several li ahead to look for it, and sure enough, they found it beside the road.

After returning from Mount Huotong to Tianbao Abbey, Xiang also said, “This pine is more than three thousand years old. It is about to turn to stone.” Later, it did indeed become stone. Suddenly a fierce wind rose and thunder boomed. The stone pine fell beside the mountain and broke into several pieces.

Yang Fa was demoted from his post as military governor of Guangzhou to become prefect of Wuzhou. He had a liking for strange things, and when he heard of this, he moved two of the stone pine’s pieces to the government offices, then sent them to the Nine Pines Courtyard at Longxing Temple. Each piece stood six or seven chi high and measured more than three chi across. Their surfaces bore scale-like patterns resembling pine bark, and they are still preserved today.

When people who were ill came to seek treatment, Xiang used no medicine. He simply struck the affected area with a bamboo staff. Whether the illness was inside the abdomen or elsewhere on the body, he pointed the staff at the afflicted place, then blew toward its tip. The sound was like thunder, and the patient would recover. Once, a man came leaning on a cane, his back bent and his legs unable to straighten or bend freely. Xiang struck him with a bamboo staff and told him to put down his cane. The man immediately stood upright.

At the time, people sometimes gave Xiang money and goods. Unable to refuse, he accepted them, then distributed them among the poor. Wherever he traveled, whether to temples and abbeys or to mountain crags and caves, he often left poems behind.

When he climbed Mount Qinwang in Hangzhou, he wrote:

Where can one seek the place where Taiyi, the supreme deity revered in Daoism, first divided and transformed?

Only the changes of generations remain, altering the human heart.

The sun and moon high in the Nine Heavens move from dawn to dusk;

the mountains and rivers stretching ten thousand li change through the ages.

When the wind rises, the shimmer of water seems to swallow distant peaks;

after the rain, mountain mist veils the tall forests.

The First Emperor vainly tried to drive the mountains away;

the vast blue sea only seemed deeper still.

Later, Xiang returned to his hometown to visit his elder brother, but his brother happened to be away. His sister-in-law, nephews, and nieces were delighted to see him. Xiang said, “My brother and I own this house together. I’ve come back to divide the family property. I only want the eastern garden.”

His sister-in-law and the children found this very strange. Their uncle had been away for years, and their father had not even seen him yet. Why was he bringing up dividing the property? Given the bonds of family, surely he could not bear to do such a thing.

Xiang stayed at the house for three days, and his sister-in-law and the children grew all the more puzzled. He ate nothing, drinking only wine. When his brother still had not returned, Xiang suddenly died during the night.

The next day, when his brother came home and asked his wife and children what had happened, they told him the truth. Overcome with grief, he said, “My younger brother has studied the Dao for many years. He did not return to divide the property; he wanted to entrust himself to my family and pretend to die, so he could sever his ties to the human world.” They prepared the body for burial. That evening, a sudden sound came from inside the coffin. The whole family was astonished, and they buried him in the eastern garden.

This took place in the tenth year of the Dazhong era. The following year, Dongchuan reported that the Daoist Ma Ziran had ascended in broad daylight in Zitong County, Jianzhou. Xiang told people in Dongchuan, “I am from Yanguan. I recently underwent feathered transformation (in Daoist usage, the departure or transformation of someone who has attained the Dao) in Zhexi. Now I have received an imperial decree from the Jade Emperor to ascend here.” The matter was reported to the court, which ordered the Hangzhou authorities in Zhexi to investigate. They opened the grave and examined the coffin; only a bamboo staff remained inside.

Wu Tongwei

Wu Tongwei’s origins are unknown. He was a Daoist with a clear, composed bearing, quiet and detached. At times he recited poetry; at others he drank until drunk. He often wandered among the famous mountains of Hongzhou. People saw him there over many years. Sometimes, after more than ten years had passed, they would see him again, and he looked younger than before. Even those widely learned could not tell whether he took and refined elixirs. He wandered from place to place without a fixed home. Later, while drunk at a wine house, he ascended and departed.

Xu Que

Xu Que claimed to be from Gaoyang. In his youth, he passed the jinshi examination, but despite sitting it many times, he never placed among the successful candidates. In his later years, he studied the Dao on Mount Wangwu, then traveled among the Five Sacred Mountains, other famous mountains, and grotto-heavens. Starting from Mount Emei, he passed through the two capitals, then traveled from Jingzhou, Xiangzhou, Bianzhou, and Songzhou to the Jiang-Huai region. He also visited Mount Mao, Mount Tiantai, Mount Siming, Mount Xiandu, Mount Weiyu, Mount Wuyi, Mount Huotong, and Mount Luofu.

Wherever he went, he would inscribe the same words on sheer cliffs in places difficult for people to reach: “Xu Que set out from Mount Emei to seek the Master Yanyue, and has arrived here.” Those who saw the inscriptions were astonished by his uncanny journeys, yet no one ever discovered who the Master Yanyue really was.

Later, Xu Que often traveled around Mount Lu. Once, after drinking, he sang:

“Among the flowers of the Langyuan, the legendary garden of the immortals, lies the realm of intoxication; there surge the Queen Mother’s nine-cloud goblets, the fabled wine cups of the Queen Mother of the West. The immortals clap their hands, displeased by my frivolity, and banish me to the human world to become a wine-mad fool.”

When someone pressed him for an explanation, he said, “I am a celestial immortal. Just now I attended a banquet on Mount Kunlun, but was banished for behaving improperly.” Everyone laughed at him, thinking he was mad in his words and manner.

Then, one spring day, Xu Que covered his head with flowers, danced with flowers in his hands, and climbed to a wine tavern to sing drunkenly. Afterward, he rode away on a cloud.

Jin Keji

Kim Gake was a man of Silla who passed the examination for foreign candidates. Quiet by nature, he took pleasure in Daoist arts and sought no luxury. At times, he cultivated himself and nurtured his Qi through practices such as breathing in vital energy and refining the body, finding joy in them. He was widely learned and had a strong memory, and his writing was elegant and graceful. Handsome in appearance, he also carried himself and spoke with the refined manner of the Central Plains.

Soon after passing the examination, Kim Gake chose not to enter official service. He withdrew to Ziwu Valley on Mount Zhongnan, where he built a dwelling. Fond of reclusion and quiet living, he planted many unusual flowers and fruit trees with his own hands. He often burned incense and sat in stillness. Whenever thoughts arose in his mind, he would recite the Dao De Jing and various scriptures of the immortals over and over.

Three years later, he wished to return to his homeland and departed by ship across the sea. Later, he came back to the Central Plains, wearing Daoist robes, and entered Mount Zhongnan once more. He devoted himself to doing good without seeking reward, and never turned away anyone who came to ask for help. He worked with such diligence and care that few could equal him.

In the twelfth month of the eleventh year of the Dazhong era, Kim Gake submitted a memorial stating: “I have received an edict from the Jade Emperor, a revered deity in Daoism, appointing me Attendant Gentleman of the English Terrace. On the fifteenth day of the second month next year, I am to ascend to Heaven.” Emperor Xuanzong of Tang found this extraordinary and sent an envoy from the palace to summon him. Kim Gake firmly declined. He also asked the emperor to inspect the Jade Emperor’s edict, explaining that it was in the custody of another immortal and would not remain in the human world.

The emperor then bestowed on him four palace ladies, incense and medicines, and gold and patterned silks. He also sent two palace envoys to attend to him. Yet Kim Gake lived alone in a quiet room, and the palace ladies and envoys could rarely approach him. Each night, sounds of laughter and conversation often came from inside. The envoys secretly peered in and saw celestial officials and immortal maidens seated separately upon dragons and phoenixes, facing one another with solemn dignity. Many attendants stood nearby, and neither the palace ladies nor the envoys dared disturb them rashly.

On the fifteenth day of the second month, spring was bright and the flowers and grasses were flourishing. Just as foretold, five-colored auspicious clouds appeared, along with calling cranes, flying luan birds, and white swans. Reed pipes and flutes sounded together with bells and stone chimes. Immortals riding beneath feathered canopies and on jade-wheeled carriages, with banners filling the sky, came to escort Kim Gake up to Heaven. Officials of the court and common people crowded the valley to watch. All looked upward, bowed in reverence, and marveled at the sight.

No one knew where Song Xuanbai was from. He was a Daoist priest, over seven feet tall, with brows and eyes as if painted, a handsome and refined face, a full figure and fair skin. His speech was elegant, and everyone who met him liked him.

He possessed considerable Daoist arts. In summer he wore padded clothing, yet in winter he wore only a single layer. When he lay in the snow, the area more than a zhang around him seemed to be filled with rising warmth, and the snow would not freeze. He could point a finger and extinguish a lamp. When he pointed at someone, that person felt a chilly draft pass right through them. When he pointed at flowers and plants in a courtyard, they rustled and swayed.

He often traveled among famous mountains. From Maoshan, he came to the Xixuan Monastery in Runzhou, then entered the Gecang Grotto. In his usual practice, he abstained from grains and cultivated himself by regulating and nourishing his breath. Yet at times he would eat five jin of pork in one sitting, with a basin of garlic and chives, then drink two dou of wine and finish with a single white plum.

Someone once obtained a piece of his garlic to eat. It was said that the garlic had no pungent smell; instead, it was like an exotic spice, its fragrance lingering between the teeth and on the tongue all day. Many people ate this garlic, and it was said that they remained free of illness for the rest of their lives and mostly lived to the age of eighty or ninety.

Whenever Song Xuanbai arrived somewhere and settled in, he would use gold and silk to acquire two or three beautiful concubines. When he left, he would leave them behind. People all believed he had mastered the art of replenishing the brain and restoring its original essence.

Later, Xuanbai traveled through Yuezhou, just as a severe drought struck. At the time, people were exposing a ritual effigy to the sun and performing music and dances to sacrifice to the Dragon, praying for rain. After more than ten days, the weather grew even hotter and drier. Seeing this, Xuanbai thought that prayers for rain had to accord with Heaven’s will; unless a petition was submitted to the Celestial Court, rain could not be obtained. So, in the Daoist temple where he was staying, he burned incense and prayed. After a full night, rain poured down and continued until enough had fallen. The people of Yuezhou all regarded him as a divine being.

Xuanbai then went to Xinzhou, where a drought was also underway and people were praying for rain. A Daoist who knew Xuanbai could bring rain asked the people of the prefecture to seek his help. Xuanbai immediately performed a ritual: nails flew through the air and pierced the eyes of the City God, the deity who guarded the city. The prefect, Wei Delin, found this strange. He thought that Xuanbai’s lodging of women and his blinding of the City God seemed like the work of a demon, and decided to punish and humiliate him. He sent strong officers to seize him, but they could not move their hands or feet and all fell to the ground; their shackles and staffs also broke on their own. Xuanbai smiled and said to Wei Delin, “My lord, why have you offended Liu Gen, and even sought to punish his ancestors?” Only then did Wei Delin become afraid and beg for forgiveness. Before long, the rain had fallen in sufficient quantity. He bowed to Xuanbai and saw him off. Xuanbai performed many efficacious arts, too numerous to record one by one. Later, he ascended to Heaven in broad daylight at Nancheng County in Fuzhou.

◎ He Zizhen

Nothing is known of He Zizhen’s origins. He was a Daoist who lived on Mount Song. Gifted in letters and refined and unadorned in his conduct, he devoted himself throughout the year to burning incense and cultivating the Dao. Though still young, no one knew his exact age. Daoists and laypeople alike said they had seen him for many years, but had never thought him unusual.

One day, the sky filled with cloud cranes, and clear immortal music rang out. He Zizhen suddenly ascended to Heaven and departed. At the time, the recluse Chen Tao was in the Eastern Capital. Seeing the people of Luoyang gazing upward in astonishment, he composed a poem:

“Zijin rode a phoenix past ancient Luochuan; He the Immortal, like a peach tree bearing fruit once more, attained the Dao and became immortal. Beneath Mount Song, the immortal music of the Three Pure Ones resounded; before the imperial gardens gathered clouds of five colors. Red-crested cranes danced, welcoming the crimson tally; blue-haired maidens sang as the fragrant carriage came to rest. Who would still weep in sorrow at this ascension in broad daylight? In the immortal realm of Taiji Palace, tens of thousands of years have already passed.”

◎ Feng Qushe

Feng Qushe was from Longqiu in Quzhou, where his family lived at the foot of Jiufeng Mountain. He entered the Daoist path while still young, traveling widely to study Daoist arts. He devoted himself to reflection and applied himself tirelessly. In his thirties, he settled at the Anhe Monastery in Songyang County, Chuzhou. According to tradition, Ye Jingneng had studied the Dao in the area where this monastery was built. Five li north of the monastery stood Maoshan, more than fifty zhang high. It was said that Zhang the Celestial Master of the Han dynasty and Ye Jingneng had both practiced the Dao on the mountain.

Inspired by the deeds of these predecessors, Feng Qushe climbed Maoshan and built a thatched hut to live in. Later, the monastery’s Daoists and residents at the foot of the mountain joined together to build him a house and halls. They enshrined statues of Lao Jun and Zhang the Celestial Master, along with a portrait of Ye Jingneng, and burned incense and performed devotions morning and evening.

On the mountain’s southeastern side lay a natural stone, more than two zhang wide, with a surface as smooth as a whetstone. Feng Qushe often sat on it, hands clasped, sitting in silence and concentrating his thoughts. One day, he sensed the presence of a divine being. The being told him that Zhang the Celestial Master had two demon-slaying swords and a bottle of elixir hidden beneath the stone, and that Feng could retrieve them. Feng declined, saying, “This stone was formed by nature; no human effort could make it. I know my cultivation is shallow, and I only wish to keep to the true Dao. I have found peace by dwelling in the mountains and have long received the protection of the spirits. How could I take the elixir and precious swords at will?”

The divine being replied, “If you cultivate diligently and do not grow lax, the swords and elixir will come to you of their own accord.” Three years later, the divine being indeed brought the swords and elixir to Feng Qushe. The swords were Zhang the Celestial Master’s Seven-Star Swords. The elixir was stored in a stone casket inside a bottle. When poured out, it amounted to more than a dou. The red pellets, each the size of a hemp seed, gleamed brightly. Feng Qushe took some himself and gave some to others; everyone who was ill recovered.

After famine and warfare broke out during the Zhonghe era (881–885), Hua Zao, a native of Lishui County, occupied a strategically defensible stretch of mountainous terrain and gathered local people to hold it. The Eastern Zhejiang Military Commissioner reported the matter to the court. After deliberation, the court decided to pacify the conflict and appointed Hua Zao prefect.

Hua Zao was a cruel and treacherous man. Hearing that Qu She possessed extraordinary abilities and also had a Sword Elixir—an alchemical substance associated with swords—he sent soldiers to surround Qu She’s mountain dwelling and take him away along with the elixir. At the prefectural seat, Hua Zao seized the Sword Elixir and locked Qu She in an empty room. The weather was sweltering, and Hua Zao withheld water from him for a full month, assuming he had died. But when the door was opened, Qu She appeared calm and well, his complexion rosy, even healthier than when he had arrived. Greatly astonished, Hua Zao had no choice but to send him back to the mountains, though he kept the Sword Elixir.

One night, amid roaring thunder and wind, the Sword Elixir gave out a flying, whistling sound and then vanished. Qu She heard that it had returned beneath the stone.

Qu She later lived in the mountains for more than fifteen years. He often said he saw dragons, tigers, and strange birds moving about in the courtyard. Anhe Temple…

The Daoist priests often lived on the mountaintop, burning incense and memorial papers to report their petitions to the gods. When they saw strange traces left by dragons, tigers, birds, and beasts, they were astonished. Qu She had abstained from luxury for many years, neither seeking pleasure nor eating. If anyone left filth on the mountain, fierce beasts would come to disturb them in spring and winter, while in autumn and summer they would be bitten by venomous snakes.

Qu She also said that whenever there was thunder and rain, thunder and lightning occurred only below the mountainside. He often saw cloud dragons, the Lord of Thunder, the Lady of Lightning, and many spirits and ghosts. Sometimes these divine beings came together in the mountains, meeting one another with great courtesy.

A Daoist priest once lodged on the mountain. At night, he heard what sounded like people talking in the quiet chamber where Qu She lived. He crept over to look, but found only a room filled with an unusual fragrance and the sound of pendants clinking. At times he could also see four men and women seated facing one another. They wore long-distance travel crowns, a type of Daoist headwear, and either crimson robes or thin blue-green gauze garments. Their hair was gathered into spiral topknots, with long locks hanging down. Their attendants were jade boys and jade maidens, whose bodies shone with light. Divine beings stood at a distance nearby. The Daoist priests did not dare disturb them, and treated them with devout reverence.

One day, Qu She said to the Daoist priests, “I fear I must leave this mountain. We will not be able to meet often from now on.” A few days later, colored clouds, luan birds, and swans gathered on the mountaintop. Music filled the air as they circled overhead for a long time. Then splendid spirit chariots appeared, along with banners and a retinue. Divine officials serving the gods rode dragons and deer, and their mounts too were many-colored; luan birds and phoenixes came to welcome them. Qu She ascended to Heaven and departed. Many monks, laypeople, and others at the foot of the mountain witnessed it.

◎Sun Simiao

Sun Simiao was from Huayuan in the Jingzhao region, in what is now the area around Shaanxi. He began studying at the age of seven and could recite more than a thousand characters each day. As he grew older, he enjoyed discussing the Zhuangzi, the Laozi, and the teachings of the various philosophical schools. During the reign of Emperor Xuan of Zhou, the court was beset by turmoil, so he withdrew to Mount Taibai to study the Dao, cultivate his breath, care for his body, and seek a way to transcend the worldly realm. He mastered astronomy and calendrical methods, studied medicine deeply, and was skilled at discerning people’s voices and complexions. He was compassionate by nature. In his daily conduct, he always tried to do good quietly, regarding helping others as a source of merit.

Once, while traveling, Sun Simiao saw a shepherd boy injure a small snake, leaving its body bloodied. He pleaded with the boy and offered his clothes in exchange. After rescuing the snake, he dressed its wound with medicine and returned it to the grass.

More than a month later, Sun Simiao set out on another journey and met a youth dressed in white. The youth rode a sturdy horse, dismounted, and bowed to him in thanks. “I am indebted to you, Daoist Master, for saving me.” Sun Simiao heard him but thought little of it. The youth bowed again and invited him to ride another horse alongside him. The two horses galloped swiftly onward.

They arrived at a city where spring flowers and trees flourished beneath bright skies. The houses were splendid, and many people came and went; it seemed a place fit for a king. The youth invited Sun Simiao inside. There he saw a handsome man with regular features, wearing a cap and a deep red robe, with many attendants at his side. The man welcomed him warmly and said in thanks, “I have been thinking of you, Daoist Master, and specially sent my son to bring you here. Earlier, when my young son went out alone, someone suddenly injured him. Fortunately, you gave up your clothes to save him, and that is how he survived. Our whole family, all those of our bloodline, are grateful to you for saving his life. It is truly an honor to meet you in person today.”

Soon, the man invited Sun Simiao into the inner residence. He saw a middle-aged woman leading out a child dressed in blue-green. She thanked him repeatedly, saying, “This child is foolish and slow-witted. He was injured by someone, but thanks to your help, he escaped disaster.”

Sun Simiao remembered that he had once rescued a green snake, so he was astonished by the place before him. He also noticed that everyone around him was a eunuch, and that the women in the palace called men wearing caps “king” and women “consorts.” This struck him as very strange. He quietly asked an attendant where he was and learned that this was the Water Palace of Jingyang, the legendary underwater Dragon Palace.

The ruler of the Water Palace ordered wine, food, music, and dance to be prepared, and hosted a banquet for Sun Simiao. Sun declined the food, explaining that he practiced bigu and took in Qi—cultivating through breath regulation and the absorption of Qi rather than eating grains—and drank only wine. The ruler kept him there for three days and asked what he wanted. Sun replied, “I am happy living in the mountains and cultivating the Dao. I long for the true Dao and cultivate the spirit. Though my eyes see these things, my heart has no desire for them.”

The ruler then offered him fine silk, pearls, and gold as farewell gifts, but Sun firmly refused them. The ruler said, “Does a person who cultivates the Dao pay no heed to such things? What, then, should I give you in return?” He ordered his son to bring thirty medicinal prescriptions from the Dragon Palace and hand them to Sun, saying, “These are genuine prescriptions, which can be used to help the world and save lives.” Soon afterward, the ruler sent servants and horses to escort Sun back to the mountains. When Sun returned, he found the encounter extraordinary. He tried the prescriptions one by one, and each worked as though aided by spirits.

Later, Sun Simiao completed the thirty-volume Qianjin Fang, which included the prescriptions from the Dragon Palace. He also diagnosed illness by observing people’s voices and complexions, and wrote a one-volume work, the Maijing, which circulated widely.

When Emperor Wen of Sui was governing on behalf of the court, he summoned Sun Simiao to serve as a Doctor of the Imperial Academy, responsible for teaching its students. Sun did not accept the summons. He once told someone, “In fifty years, a sage will appear. Then I will assist him and help him deliver the people from hardship.”

During the reign of Emperor Taizong of Tang, Sun Simiao was summoned to the capital. The emperor was amazed that he looked so young and said, “This shows that those who possess the Dao truly deserve respect. Can the tales of immortals such as Xianmen really be empty words?” The emperor intended to grant Sun a noble title, but Sun firmly declined. In the early years of Emperor Gaozong’s reign, the court appointed him Remonstrance Advisor, an official responsible for admonishing the emperor, and once again he firmly declined. By then, he was over ninety, yet his eyesight and hearing had not weakened.

Lu Zhaolin of Fanyang was famous in his time, yet he suffered from a grave illness. Reflecting on how people differ in their natural endowments, and unsure why lifespans vary, he asked Sun Simiao: “On what principles does a renowned physician rely when curing illness?”

Sun Simiao replied: “I have heard that those skilled in speaking of the Dao of Heaven must test it against human circumstances; those skilled in speaking of humanity must take the Dao of Heaven as their foundation. Heaven has four seasons and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), with cold and heat alternating and changing. When the Dao of Heaven moves in harmony, it takes form as rain; when it surges, it takes form as wind; when it condenses, it takes form as frost and snow; when it spreads out, it takes form as rainbows. These are all the ordinary workings of Heaven and Earth.

“Human beings have four limbs and five zang organs. We are sometimes awake and sometimes asleep, breathing in and out. When we move, this appears as coming and going; when Qi and blood circulate, it appears as ying and wei Qi—the nourishing and protective energies that move through the body. When it shows on the outside, it appears as complexion; when it is voiced, it becomes sound. These are all the ordinary workings of the human body. Yang Qi carries out subtle functions, while Yin Qi bears the body’s form: this is where human beings are like Heaven and Earth.

“When the body’s workings become disordered, stagnation and steaming produce fever, while blockage produces chills. When things congeal, warts and growths arise; when they sink inward, abscesses form—poisonous sores between the skin and flesh. When Qi presses forward violently, it causes panting; when it is exhausted, the body becomes parched and withered. Illness shows itself in the complexion and also alters the body’s form. By extension, the same is true of Heaven and Earth.

“Thus, when the five planets move with irregular excess or deficiency, when the stars stray from their proper courses, when the movements of the sun and moon are disrupted, or when comets and hazy stars—celestial signs that the ancients regarded as ill omens—streak across the sky, these are signs of illness in Heaven and Earth. Cold and heat arriving out of season are signs that Heaven and Earth’s climate is stagnant or disordered. Stones standing upright and soil surging upward are Heaven and Earth’s warts and growths; mountains collapsing and the ground caving in are its abscesses; violent winds and torrential rain are its labored breathing; rainwater moistens…”

By adapting care to the seasons, rivers continue to flow and their sources do not run dry. If the waters and soil between Heaven and Earth dry up, it is as though Heaven and Earth have lost their vital force. A skilled physician treats illness with medicines suited to the condition and uses acupuncture and other methods to save the patient. A sage, by contrast, harmonizes Heaven and Earth through De (Virtue/Power) and supplements this with human affairs. Thus, some human illnesses can be cured, and disasters affecting Heaven and Earth can also be dispelled.

The ancients also said, “Be bold in courage, cautious within; be broad in wisdom, upright in conduct.” The Book of Songs says, “As if approaching a deep abyss, as if treading on thin ice”—this speaks of acting with caution. “A valiant warrior, a bulwark for dukes and lords” speaks of extraordinary courage. “Do not turn aside for profit; do not rush in the name of righteousness” means not abandoning the right path for private gain, and not acting rashly out of eagerness to pursue what is right. This is upright conduct. “Recognize the moment and act; do not wait until the day is done” means acting as soon as the opportunity is perceived, without waiting until the next day. This is broad wisdom. This man excelled in literary talent, and the Daoist arts he knew were too numerous to record.

Not long after Gaozong ascended the throne, he issued an edict appointing the man to the rank of Chengwulang and assigning him to serve in the Imperial Pharmacy Bureau. He declined. At dawn on the fifteenth day of the second month in the third year of Yonghui (652), he rose, bathed, dressed formally, and sat upright with his hands folded. He said to his children and grandchildren, “The world has driven me to withdraw and cultivate in a cavern. Now I am about to ascend to the land of Nonbeing and serve at the Golden Palace. I can no longer answer summonses and travel back and forth.” Soon afterward, his breath stopped and he died. In his final instructions, he asked to be buried simply, without grave goods or sacrificial animals. More than a month later, his complexion had not changed. When his body was lifted into the coffin, it seemed that only an empty garment remained. This is what is called “corpse liberation”—the Daoist belief that a cultivator’s body sheds its mortal form as the adept ascends to immortality.

Zhang Guo

Zhang Guo lived in seclusion on Tiaoshan in Hengzhou and often traveled around Fenzhou and Jinzhou. People of the time said he possessed secret arts for attaining longevity. Elders said that when they were children and saw Zhang Guo, he claimed to have lived for several hundred years.

Emperor Taizong and Emperor Gaozong of the Tang summoned him, but he refused to leave the mountains. When Wu Zetian sent someone to summon him, he pretended to die in front of the Temple of the Jealous Woman. It was midsummer, and his body soon began to rot and attract worms; only then did Wu Zetian believe that he was dead. Later, however, someone saw him in the mountains of Hengzhou.

In the twenty-third year of the Kaiyuan era, Emperor Ming of Tang (Emperor Xuanzong) issued an edict ordering Pei Wu, a Secretariat Attendant responsible for conveying imperial decrees, to ride post horses to Hengzhou and welcome him. As expected, the man stopped breathing and died before Pei Wu. Pei Wu then burned incense and announced that the Son of Heaven had died. Later, someone saw him again in the mountains of Hengzhou.

In the twenty-third year of the Kaiyuan era, Emperor Ming of Tang issued an edict ordering Pei Wu, a Secretariat Attendant, to ride post horses to Hengzhou and welcome him. As expected, the man stopped breathing and died before Pei Wu. Pei Wu then burned incense and announced the emperor’s resolve to seek the Dao (the Way). After a while, the man gradually revived. Pei Wu did not dare force him, so he hurried back to the capital to report. The emperor then ordered Xu Qiao, a Secretariat Drafter, and Lu Chongxuan, a Secretariat Attendant, to go and welcome him, carrying the emperor’s letter bearing the imperial seal.

The man accompanied Xu Qiao to the Eastern Capital, meaning Luoyang in this passage, and was lodged at the Jixian Academy. When he entered the palace, he rode in a sedan chair carried on men’s shoulders, and the emperor treated him with the utmost courtesy. The dukes and ministers all went to pay their respects and asked him about matters beyond the ordinary world. He invariably replied in strange words, often saying, “I was born in the bingzi year during the reign of Emperor Yao.” People at the time could not make sense of his origins. He also said that he had served as a Palace Attendant, an official post, under Emperor Yao, and was skilled in embryonic breathing, a Daoist practice of regulating the breath until it becomes subtle and prolonged. He could go many days without eating.

The emperor then bestowed fine wine and Three-Yellow Pills, a kind of Daoist elixir, upon him. Emperor Ming kept him in the inner palace and offered him wine. The man declined, saying, “Your humble servant cannot drink two sheng. I have a disciple who can drink a dou.” Emperor Ming was delighted and ordered someone to summon the disciple. Before long, a young Daoist, seemingly sixteen or seventeen years old, flew down from the palace eaves. He was handsome, with a manner that was refined and unassuming. When he paid his respects to the emperor, he spoke with clarity and observed every courtesy. The emperor invited him to sit, but he said, “Your disciple usually stands while serving his master.”

He stood to one side, and Emperor Xuanzong of Tang did not offer him a seat. The emperor grew even more delighted and bestowed wine on him. Zhang Guo drank a dou, yet remained sober. He declined, saying, “Please do not give me any more wine. If I drink too much, I may lose control of myself. I only meant to amuse Your Majesty.” The emperor insisted again. Suddenly, wine gushed from the top of Zhang Guo’s head. His hat fell to the ground and turned into a wine vessel. The emperor and his consorts laughed in amazement. When they looked again, the Daoist had vanished. Only a golden wine vessel remained on the ground. They turned it over and found a dou of wine inside. On inspection, it proved to be the very vessel from the Jixian Academy. Zhang Guo displayed his immortal arts many times, transforming himself in countless ways; these cannot all be recounted.

The emperor then issued an edict: “Mr. Zhang Guo of Hengzhou is a man who has transcended the world. His conduct has always been pure, and his mind profound and remote. He has lived in seclusion among ordinary people without revealing himself, and now, in response to our summons, has come to the capital. No one knows his age, so we regard him as a sage from the time of Fuxi, the legendary ancient ruler of the Xi Huang era. I asked him about the essentials of the Great Dao, and he grasped its fundamental meaning. We shall now hold the court ceremony, appoint him to an honored post, grant him the office of Grand Master for Glorious Happiness with Silver Seal and Blue Ribbon, and bestow upon him the title Master of Profound Mystery.”

Zhang Guo repeatedly said that he was old and often ill, and asked to return to Hengzhou. Emperor Xuanzong gave him three hundred bolts of silk, assigned two disciples to accompany him, and arranged for provisions at the relay stations. He also had Zhang Guo carried to Hengzhou in a shoulder-borne sedan. One disciple was sent back, while the other followed him into the mountains.

In the early Tianbao era, Emperor Xuanzong once again sent someone to summon Zhang Guo. When Zhang Guo heard of this, he feigned death. His disciples buried him, but when they later opened the tomb to look inside, the coffin was empty.

◎Xu Xuanping

Xu Xuanping was from She County in Xin’an Commandery. During the Jingyun era of Emperor Ruizong of Tang, he lived in seclusion in a mountain hollow south of Chengyang Mountain, where he built a thatched hut. No one knew what he usually took to nourish his life; people only saw that he never ate. He looked to be about forty, was light and nimble, and walked as fast as a galloping horse.

At times he carried firewood down to sell. A painted gourd and a curved bamboo staff often hung from his load. Whenever he returned drunk, he would stagger along, reciting a poem:

“In the morning I shoulder firewood and go to sell it;

as the sun sets in the west, I return with wine.

There is no need for people of the world to ask after me:

I pass through mist and cloud into the green mountains.”

For more than thirty years, he sometimes helped people in danger and sometimes aided those suffering from illness. People from the city often went to visit him, but never managed to find him. They could only see the poem he had inscribed on the wall of his hut:

“For thirty years I have lived in seclusion, building my home

atop the southern mountain.

In the stillness of night I admire the bright moon;

in idle moments I drink from the clear green spring at dawn.

Woodcutters sing on the ridges of the fields,

and birds in the valley play before the rocks.

Life is joyful; I do not know that I have grown old,

having long since forgotten the passing years.”

Those who loved poetry often recited these lines. When someone went to Chang’an, they copied the poem onto the walls of relay stations between Luoyang, Tongzhou, and Huazhou.

During the Tianbao era, after Li Bai left the Hanlin Academy and traveled east, he read the poem at one of these stations. After reciting it, he exclaimed, “This is the poem of an immortal!” He asked around and learned about Xu Xuanping. Li Bai then came to Xin’an, wading across streams and climbing mountains, and searched for Xu again and again, but never found him. So he wrote a poem on the wall of the thatched hut:

“I recited the poem at the relay station

and came to seek the immortal’s dwelling.

Mist-covered ridges conceal the traces of the lofty one;

cloud-veiled woods stretch beyond the distant horizon.

I peer into the courtyard and see only desolation;

leaning on my staff, I linger in vain, unwilling to leave.

Perhaps he has transformed into a crane in the far-off sky;

perhaps he will return only after a thousand years.”

When Xu Xuanping returned to his hut and saw the poem on the wall, he recited in turn, “A pond full of lotus leaves…”

There was no shortage of clothing, and two mu of yellow essence were enough to eat. Later, more people came looking for him and asking for things, so he had to move his thatched hut and live deeper in the mountains. The hut was later destroyed by a wildfire, and people never learned Xuanping’s whereabouts again.

More than a hundred years later, in the twelfth year of the Xiantong era (871), a maidservant in the household of Xu Mingshu in the commandery was about to be driven out. She followed some people into the mountains to gather firewood. One day, alone in the southern mountains, she saw a man sitting on a rock, eating a very large peach. He asked her, “Are you one of Xu Mingshu’s household?” The maidservant replied, “Yes.” The man said, “I am Xuanping, Mingshu’s ancestor.” The maidservant said, “At home they often say that you, honored ancestor, attained the Dao and became an immortal long ago, but no one has ever been able to find you.” Xuanping said to her, “When you return, tell Mingshu that I am in these mountains. I will give you a peach to eat, but you must not take it out of the mountains. There are many tigers and wolves here, and the mountain god treasures this peach.” The maidservant ate the peach. It tasted wonderfully sweet, and she finished it in no time. Xuanping told her to return home with the people gathering firewood and deliver the message.

As she walked home, the load of firewood on her back seemed lighter, and her body felt lighter too. When she arrived, she told them everything about meeting their ancestor Xuanping in the mountains. Mingshu, however, scolded her for speaking her ancestor’s tabooed name and struck her with a staff. With each blow, the maidservant rose into the air, then vanished without a trace. Later, someone entered the mountains and encountered her. She looked like a child, was light and agile, and wore clothes made of tree bark. She moved as swiftly as the wind; with a leap into the woods, she was gone.

◎ Liu Shang

Liu Shang was from Pengcheng and lived in Chang’an. He loved learning, had a strong memory, and excelled at writing. His composition “Eighteen Songs of a Nomad Flute” circulated widely; even children and women could recite it. He passed the jinshi examination and held posts in the central government, eventually attaining the rank of Gentleman (langzhong). By nature, he loved Daoist arts, and whenever he met a Daoist, he would take him as his teacher. He devoted himself diligently to refining elixirs and practicing breath cultivation. He often lamented that time…