《会仙女志》

Preface to Records of an Encounter with an Immortal Maiden

In my youth, I, Li Hu, the Immortal Chronicler of Xuanyang, heard the story of an encounter with an immortal maiden. I once laughed and said, “This is no more than an unfounded rumor.” So I set it aside and gave it no further thought. Later, I came across many unofficial works of strange tales and marvels that also recounted this story, and I sighed, “This is a falsehood passed from one person to another. Rather than trust what books record, I would sooner trust the celestial books.” So I closed the book and read no further.

In the xinmao year of the Jiajing era (1531), when I was twenty years old, I was living alone in the Xuanyang Grotto-Heaven when I suddenly encountered an immortal maiden. The event was so extraordinary that I came to believe the accounts I had heard and read before were not fanciful or absurd. I therefore wrote twenty-four poems titled Questions to Heaven, one Rhapsody on the Immortal Maiden, and one Song of the Immortal Chronicler, bringing them together as Records of an Encounter with an Immortal Maiden. On the fifth day of the third month of the renzi year of the Jiajing era (1532), Li Hu, the Immortal Chronicler of Xuanyang, of Kuaiji, wrote this preface.

At just twenty years of age, Xuanyang Xianshi, a title for a practitioner seeking immortality, was studying the Classic of Changes in Xuanyang Grotto-Heaven. The place was quiet and secluded, lifting the mind above worldly concerns. He gathered his thoughts, remained still and focused, and devoted himself to exploring the mysteries of the Classic of Changes.

One night in the Xinhai year of the Jiajing reign (the date is incomplete in the text), the sky was clear and moonlight filtered through the curtains. A strange fragrance filled the room, and purple vapor rose. He opened the door to look and saw a young woman of sixteen or seventeen, with delicate skin and black hair falling beside her temples. Her manner was graceful and composed; she wore a white robe and skirt and walked toward him slowly. As she drew near, he closed the door and sat in stillness, gathering his attention.

After a while, there was another knock at the door. Xianshi asked, “Who are you? Are you an immortal?” The woman replied, “I am an unmarried woman.” Xianshi said, “If you are unmarried, have you come here secretly? Or are you some kind of mountain spirit or ghost?” She answered, “I am a numinous spirit from the Celestial Treasury. I have come from the immortal realm of Penglai and Yingzhou. We have been connected by fate for a long time, and I wish to serve you.”

Xianshi said, “A man who becomes absorbed in desire may perhaps still free himself; a woman who does so finds it difficult to escape. You came to me first, and Confucius would surely have scorned you for it. Coming secretly at night will also earn you the contempt of the world. I have already been betrothed to a woman of the Chen family, though we have not yet married; she too is unmarried. If I accept you, a woman who has come here secretly, people will look down on me for it. Go back at once. Do not bring this double disgrace upon me.”

The woman said, “You are a frivolous young man. You disdain to violate the moral order, chase after women, engage in secret affairs, peer into chambers from raised towers, or slip through holes and climb over walls. Seeing that beauty leaves you unmoved, I know you are no ordinary person and that I can speak with you. I will discuss the Ziwu Cavern with you, reveal the mysteries of Heaven and Earth, and explain the subtle workings of Yin-Yang. Do not suspect that I am a woman who has run away from home or some kind of ghost.”

“You see my appearance, yet feel no desire for me. I know, then, that you are no ordinary person and that you are someone I can speak with. I wish to talk with you about the ‘Cavern of Zi and Wu’—a hidden teaching concerning Yin-Yang and cultivation—and disclose the mysteries of Heaven and Earth, explaining the subtleties of Yin and Yang. Do not suspect me of being some dissolute ghost.”

“I hope you will follow Zhan Qin—that is, Liuxia Hui, famed in legend for upholding propriety—and receive a visitor. Do not be as resolute in turning me away as the man of Lu, who, according to legend, refused a woman shelter from the rain.”

I said, “I would gladly hear you discuss profound principles and reveal hidden mysteries. I only fear you may not truly be able to do so.” She said, “May I try?” So I lit a candle, unlatched the door, and invited her to the guest room outside. We sat facing one another on the east and west sides, drinking tea and talking at length.

I asked about her learning. She spoke with clear reasoning and profound insight. I suspected she was not of the mortal world, so I composed myself, clasped my hands, and asked, “You call yourself a numinous being of the Celestial Court, often coming from Penglai and Yingzhou. Could you be a fairy?” She said, “I am.” I asked, “If you are indeed a fairy, where do fairies come from?” She said, “The celestial body is light and pure; it neither comes into being nor passes away. The essences of the stars differ in purity and turbidity: when turbid Qi disperses, it transforms into stone; when pure Qi gathers, it forms beings of spiritual grace. Thus, when numinous Qi gathers in birds and beasts, it becomes the phoenix or the qilin; when it gathers in plants, it becomes the lingzhi mushroom or the long-lived chun tree; when it gathers in a mother’s womb, it gives birth to the virtuous and the sage.

“When numinous Qi gathers, it produces people of wisdom and intelligence: on earth, they are human beings; in the heavens, they are stars. It is said that some rode upon the Ji and Wei constellations, whose starlight could be seen clearly. My life, too, has its origins. If not you, who could I discuss them with?”

I said, “The stars have transformed into human beings in countless cases, from ancient times to the present. Please tell me about them one by one.” She said, “Fairies sent down to the mortal world as punishment mingle among its people and are veiled by worldly Qi; the relevant accounts are all in books, and you already know what I have in mind. The princesses Jiao and Zhi, and the Weaving Maiden, married Dong Yong; a fairy from Mount Shaoshi sought to marry Feng Sheng; the river goddesses met Zheng Jiaofu by the river and gave him their jade pendants; Pei Hang met the fairy Yunying at the Blue Bridge. Many more cases can be inferred from these, too many to recount one by one.”

She said, “Dong Yu married a celestial maiden who wove cloth to help relieve his poverty. I too am a poor scholar. Can you weave?”

The celestial maiden replied, “Yin and Yang come together, and things gather according to their kind, forming into groups. The celestial maiden Weaving Girl of the Horn constellation was rightly matched with Dong Nong. I understand literary meaning and principle, and know that you have exceptional talent for writing. So I sought a partner according to your ability, hoping to help you escape poverty. I too am a poor scholar. Can you weave?”

She said, “Yin and Yang come together, and things gather according to their kind, forming into groups. The celestial maiden Weaving Girl of the Horn constellation was rightly matched with Dong Nong. I understand literary meaning and principle, and know that you have exceptional talent for writing. So I sought a partner according to your ability, and am willing to follow you for life. Once you attain the Dao, you can become prosperous; there is no need to seek profit by other means. I will weave to help you, but this is not something I had ever heard of before.”

She then said, “You are an immortal spirit banished to the mortal world, and Heaven’s will must be clear to you. I wish to ask you about the Way of Heaven. Why don’t you answer me?”

The celestial maiden said, “Very well.” She rose and began to ask.

She asked, “The Way of the Three Powers comprises Heaven, Earth, and humanity. How do the Five Phases gather essence and Qi, and how do males and females come into being?”

The celestial maiden replied, “In the beginning, there was no beginning that could be named as a starting point. Heaven and Earth were in a state of chaos; before the chaos divided, the two fundamental forces had not yet separated. Only after change occurred did the Taiji—the Supreme Ultimate—come to dwell in emptiness and stillness. Heaven opened in the Zi position, Earth took shape in the Chou palace, and humanity appeared at the Yin hour. Thus the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity came together as one. The Five Phases then emerged and spread out, and the myriad things came into being in abundance. Do not place too much trust in the meaning of Zhou Dunyi’s Explanation of the Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate.”

She asked, “How many tens of thousands of miles separate Heaven and Earth? Where are the eastern and western ends? And how should these distances be calculated?”

The celestial maiden replied, “Heaven is so high that no one can climb to it by a ladder. Who has ascended to determine how far Heaven is from Earth? Measuring the sun’s shadow and calculating the movements of the celestial bodies still yields distances too vast and obscure to understand. The claim that it is more than two hundred million li may not reveal the true distance. Do not place too much trust in the measurements of the four cardinal and four intermediate directions, either.”

She asked, “Heaven is the pale white of the Mao hour, and Earth is the yellow of the Mao hour. What lies beyond Heaven? What is hidden at the center of Earth?”

When Heaven and Earth first opened, the clear and light Qi separated from the turbid and heavy Qi. The myriad things began to take shape, and the scene at the mao hour became distinct as well. The sky was clear and bright, covering what lay beneath it; the earth was turbid, supporting what lay above it. Heaven enclosed the earth and seemed to gather downward. People, puzzled, thought Heaven lay beneath the earth, and so saw it as all the more turbid and indistinct. The account of “Heaven as a Canopy” should be examined carefully.

Someone asked, “The celestial body covers all things like a canopy, with light, clear Qi coursing above. If so, why does the northwest appear to slope downward?”

The Immortal Woman replied, “One Qi rises upward, vast and undifferentiated. The Way of Heaven turns to the left, changing swiftly. The old positions of east, west, south, and north are hard to fix. When you look up, all you see is the blue sky. How can you tell where west or north lies, or where the sky is uneven, full, or diminished? Who can go to the edge of Heaven and see for themselves that the northwest slopes downward? People say Heaven slopes toward the northwest without having seen it with their own eyes. You need only accept this account.”

Someone asked, “The celestial body is a seamless whole, with no apparent gaps. I do not understand the story of Nüwa smelting stones to repair Heaven. I venture to ask you about it.”

The Immortal Woman replied, “Light, clear Qi rises, and the Qi of Heaven and Earth blends into a single whole. There were no gaps to begin with, so why would anything need repairing? Even if there were a breach in Heaven to mend, there is no road by which one could reach the heavens. Before the positions of Heaven and Earth were established, the space between them was still dark and chaotic. When Nüwa smelted the stones, the five colors first became distinct: the east belongs to Wood, and was repaired with blue-green; the south belongs to Fire, and was repaired with red; the north belongs to Water, and was repaired with black; yellow was used for the center; and the west belongs to Metal, and was repaired with white. The five directions each have their own color. By repairing Heaven with the five colors, the Way of Heaven was made manifest. The emperor’s accomplishment was truly great.”

Someone asked, “The celestial body is above like a canopy, while the earth is fixed below. What enables the sun and moon to move and continue their endless courses?”

The Immortal Woman replied, “The sun and moon are the essences of Yin-Yang. One Qi circulates in an unceasing cycle, day and night. It is like the flow of blood and Qi throughout the human body. The sun and moon move through empty space, circulating above and below. They need nothing to support them, and there is no need to insist that they are attached to Heaven.”

Someone asked, “The sun and moon are immense celestial phenomena, suspended in the sky and shining brightly. What virtue does the moon possess that allows it to disappear and then appear again?”

The moon’s light appears by means of the sun’s light. It hangs high in the sky, and people look up at it from the ground. Like a silver sphere, it presents a different appearance to an observer standing in each direction. Its reflection hangs in the sky, where even the finest details can be seen clearly. Its Yin essence is bright and pure; as the moon wanes from full and waxes back to fullness, it suffers no harm. Since I know you have read widely, keep these profound words in your heart for now.

Someone asked, “The sun is the essence of Yang. Why does it have a three-legged crow? The moon dies and is born again, and within it is a white rabbit. As the moon waxes and wanes, it suffers no harm. Since I know you have read widely, keep these profound words in your heart for now.”

He then asked, “The sun is the essence of Yang. Why does it have a three-legged crow? Why is the rabbit inside the moon’s belly?”

The reply was, “In a hundred years of life, how much time do we truly have? Time flies like a running rabbit or a bird in flight. To treat fanciful stories as explanations—to say that the rabbit pounds medicine and the crow roosts there—is merely forced speculation. Four is an even number; three is odd. If the moon does not have three caves, where could the Jade Rabbit, the legendary white rabbit in the moon, live?”

Someone asked, “Yi’s wife, Chang’e, was a mortal too. What elixir did she steal that enabled her to fly to the moon palace?”

The reply was, “The moon has Yin essence, and Chang’e is also said to be a Yin spirit. The moon in the heavens was never inhabited. ‘Chang’e’ is merely a name from a fable. What elixir could she have stolen, and how could Yi’s wife have flown to the moon? What grievance does Frost Maiden, another name for Chang’e, bear? What is there to resent in living alone? Li Shangyin’s poetry is shallow and commonplace; do not believe it.”

Someone asked, “How was the cinnabar osmanthus on the moon cultivated? And where did the osmanthus seeds at Lingyin Temple come from?”

The reply was, “Osmanthus blooms in autumn, when scholars strive in the examinations. Those of outstanding talent who pass the imperial exams are said to have climbed an osmanthus branch, as though ascending to the Heavenly Palace—a lofty and difficult achievement. The story of a cinnabar osmanthus on the moon uses it as a metaphor for fame and success. To say that the osmanthus seeds at Lingyin Temple came from the moon palace is also fanciful speculation. The seeds are fragrant; once planted, they bear fruit with a spicy scent. Xu Zi’s account is sound: it has already exposed the absurdity of the tale.”

Someone asked, “The moon is mottled with black and white, its forms indistinct. What exactly are the shadows of mountains and rivers, and how can this resolve everyone’s doubts?”

The reply was, “The appearances of the sun and moon both contain light and dark, black and white. When black and white become visible, people can make out their shapes and colors. The pupil of the human eye is black, which is why people often say that the eye has more white than black. When there is too much white in the eye, one’s vision becomes blurred, and indistinct images appear. In this way, everyone’s doubts can be resolved.”

Someone asked, “The images of the sun and moon contain two kinds of essence and energy, black and white. When black and white are clearly distinguished, one can see faces and tell colors apart. When the black pupils stand out clearly, people usually say there is too much white in the eyes. If there is too much white, the eyes are easily strained, leading to dizziness, blurred vision, and difficulty seeing clearly. Simply observing the appearance of the eyes makes the principle plain. The images of mountains and rivers have no fixed forms to begin with. If one invents absurd explanations out of thin air, how could that dispel people’s confusion?”

Someone asked, “The sun and moon sometimes obscure one another, appearing dark at times and bright at others. Why does the Spring and Autumn Annals not record these phenomena? Why don’t you explain them in detail?”

He replied, “The heavens have nine paths, with the Yellow Path at the center. The sun and moon travel along nearby paths, sometimes apart and sometimes meeting. As the moon moves, it gradually wanes; if the sun happens to be obscured at that time, a solar eclipse occurs. When the sun is above the moon, the moon blocks its light. And when the moon strays from its usual course, the sun and moon can also appear dim in different ways. The depth of an eclipse varies according to where the obscuring occurs. Sometimes calculations predict an eclipse, but none takes place in fact; this is because the calendar and calculations are not yet precise enough.”

Someone asked, “Why did ten suns appear in the first year of Emperor Yao? And how could Hou Yi shoot them down, leaving only one?”

He replied, “Accounts of the flourishing age of Emperor Yao are not entirely without basis. Yao’s son Zhi governed in disorder, and one calamity after another struck, bringing great suffering to the people. The sunlight seemed to waver and blaze, and the heat was unbearable. To the eye, it appeared as if there were ten suns, and the crops were scorched until they yielded no grain. Hou Yi was therefore ordered to save the people by shooting at the suns. This is like Yang You stopping a solar eclipse with a sweep of his sword, or Duke Yang of Lu making the sun retreat by brandishing his halberd. The account passed down by Liu An, Prince of Huainan, is absurd; that is what gave rise to so many questions.”

Someone asked, “The stars are arrayed across the boundless sky, and their positions differ in the five directions. What forms do they have, and what are their names?”

He replied, “The essence of the myriad things appears in the heavens as stars set in ranks. The subtlety of primordial Qi has neither form nor name. An ancient song calls them ‘layered radiance,’ while legend calls them ‘night-bright.’ Which stars are the Dipper mansion, and which the Winnowing Basket mansion? Which are the Emptiness mansion and the Triaster mansion? People observe celestial phenomena and seek to infer good and ill fortune, so they give the stars names as best they can. A star in the east is not necessarily the one called the Morning Star, nor is a star in the west necessarily the one called the Dawn Star. Names vary with the observer and with customary usage.”

Someone asked, “The seven stars of the Northern Dipper are arranged like seven pigs. What did Guan Lu mean when he said this while dressed in white?”

Some say Jiang Taigong used the claim that he possessed “the divine water virtue” to display his supernatural powers. After Liu Bang, the founding emperor of the Han, killed a snake, he claimed that it had been transformed from the son of the White Emperor; it is also said that someone wept over this. Which deity, then, is the Big Dipper? Where did the food spread beneath the pine tree come from? And how did a jar of wine appear in an abandoned garden after a servant was beaten with a staff? These are all tales invented by the “two sons” to make their arts seem wondrous. Could this really be the fault of the Old Mother Wang? They said she should be pardoned after seven days; Zhao Yan’s lifespan, too, could supposedly be extended by pleading and weeping.

Someone asked: The Weaver Girl and the Cowherd are two stars in the heavens. Why do they meet each year on the seventh night of the seventh month? And what happens when they meet?

The reply was: The shapes of the constellations are already clearly described in the Book of Songs. “Greater East,” in the “Minor Odes of the Kingdom” section, mentions the Winnowing Basket and the Dipper, which resemble a winnowing basket and a ladle for drawing water. How could the Winnowing Basket produce a winnowing basket, or the Dipper hold water for washing? These claims are all unbelievable, let alone the tale of the Cowherd and Weaver Girl meeting across the Milky Way. The so-called “shuttle Ni-head” is merely a name for a constellation. What brocade do the stars weave, and what fields do they cultivate? To say that they meet as man and woman is nothing but an absurd rumor.

Someone asked: Where did the story come from that Zhang Qian rode a raft up to heaven? And why have the Weaver Girl’s loom and its loom stone been passed down to this day?

The reply was: Zhang Qian was an envoy of the Han dynasty who traveled on a mission to the Western Regions. The story that he rode a raft through the heavens was made up on a whim by people fond of marvels. If there is no Weaver Girl in heaven, where could her loom and weaving have come from? And if there are no shuttles or weaving tools, where could the loom stone have come from? Could the diviner Yan Junping alone have known these things? Zhang Qian’s biography makes no mention of his riding a raft into heaven. Though books such as the Huazhi and Bowu contain strange tales, that does not make them factual. These claims are absurd and contrary to reason; do not become absorbed in them.

Someone asked: Where does thunder arise? What is the thunder god? Why does thunder strike people and animals dead, and why is it said to administer punishment?

Thunder lies hidden within the earth, while all things have yet to grow. The two forces of Yin and Yang clash and strike against one another, and thunder takes shape. The principle is plain, like that of a cannon: fire is struck within, and when it erupts, it makes a sound. Its flashes dazzle the eye, as though they also shook the spirit. When things are harmed, Heaven does not intend it. Thunder stirs all things—could its duty be to administer punishment?

Someone asked, “When thunder and fire blaze fiercely, how should the fragments of an axe be disposed of after they are discarded? And what force governs them?”

The reply was, “Thunder and lightning blaze fiercely, and their striking force is powerful, but Heaven does not act with intention. They stir all things—are they solely in charge of punishment?”

Someone asked again, “When thunder and fire blaze fiercely, how should the fragments of an axe be disposed of after they are discarded? And what force governs them?”

The reply was, “Thunder and lightning are fierce, and their striking force is powerful. It is like throwing a searing-hot object into a well: instead, it turns into solid ice. Thunder is not the earth beating a drum, and there is no need to explain it by invoking fragments of an axe. The thunder in the heavens resounds with deep, swift force; wondrous transformations interweave with one another. Thunder and fire leap and burn, rumbling through the sky, while nearby they sink into murky depths.

“Thus fragments are formed, retaining the shape of the pieces. It is like a dragon soaring and racing upward, leaving behind clumps like snow. This phenomenon is called ‘lingzhi’—the coagulated matter left behind by the action of thunder and fire. On looking back, this is what is known as fragments of an axe.”

Someone asked, “The dragon is the most numinous of beings. By what means does it bring rain? How can it transform by attaching itself to vapor, and how can it draw in water?”

The reply was, “When Yin and Yang harmonize and flow freely, cloud vapor rises, steams, and gathers; after prolonged rain, water descends from the sky. The dragon merely moves along with the clouds. Dragons dwell in caverns in rivers and seas, but there is no dragon essence in the sky. The numinous dragon transforms and soars through the heavens; cloud vapor rises and brings rain, but the rain is not made by the dragon.”

Someone asked, “Cloud vapor rises among the mountains and rivers because vapor condenses. What does this have to do with dragons? And how does rain form?”

Mountains can conceal and gather Qi (vital energy), and rivers can accumulate it. Since Heaven and Earth were first formed, all things have taken a single Qi as their foundation. Qi not only forms mountains and rivers; it can also transform into clouds and rain. Rivers contain water, and water comes from rain. The Dragon bends down and transforms into water, then rises with its body arched; when it descends, it becomes rain. This is like a son returning to his mother.

When Qi gathers and then spreads, clouds form among the mountains; clouds help bring rain. The Dragon bends down to accumulate and gather, then arches upward and steams; when its breath spreads everywhere, it becomes rain. This is like a husband answering his wife. Mountains naturally tend to rise upward, and the Qi that rises becomes clouds, which move upward with the Qi. Rivers naturally tend to flow downward, and the Qi that descends becomes water, which flows downward with the Qi. The Dragon’s force sets the Qi above and below surging, so Heaven and Earth are no longer separated. Yin and Yang can then fully mingle and bring forth the myriad things.

Someone asked, “Why do snowflakes have six petals in winter but five in spring? How can the Heavenly-Born Flower Tree change in this way, and what explanation can Yan Nü, the legendary immortal maiden, offer?”

The reply was, “In winter, snowflakes whirl through the air and the cold makes them congeal. Yin Qi is at its height in midwinter, so snowflakes have six petals. When spring arrives, Yang Qi gradually begins to grow, and they have five. As Yin and Yang shift and change, so do the six and five petals. Yan Hua Jun, a legendary figure, used celestial signs to elevate his own status and spoke in extravagant, mysterious terms. The claim that a woman was an immortal banished from Heaven is absurd and unfounded.”

Someone asked, “How are the Nine Paths arranged? What are the names of the Nine Heavens? On what basis are the Ten Directions divided? What supports the Eight Pillars?”

The reply was, “There are no Nine Paths in Heaven. Those claims merely impose an arrangement on tangled, intersecting phenomena, then arbitrarily assign them five colors and names. The accounts of the Nine Heavens and Eight Pillars are interrelated. Wang Yi’s commentary is mistaken: what, then, supports the eight mountains that hold up the pillars of Heaven? The account of the Ten Directions is also confused, forcing the Five Phases into an ill-fitting scheme. The Fanlu, or Luxuriant Dew of the Spring and Autumn Annals, is verbose and sprawling, with disjointed arguments that make no sense.”

Someone asked, “It is said that Emperor Yu received a jade and presented it to the Queen Mother of the West; that King Mu of Zhou rode in a carriage drawn by eight steeds and brought wine to meet the Queen Mother of the West; and that when the Yellow Emperor ascended to immortality at Ding Lake, his ministers also transformed and ascended on feathered wings…”

Someone asked, “Yu the Great once held a jade tablet and bowed in reverence to the Queen Mother of the West. King Mu of Zhou rode in a carriage drawn by eight fine horses to attend a banquet with her. The Yellow Emperor ascended to heaven on a dragon at Dinghu, and his ministers all transformed into immortals and followed him. King Ling of Zhou departed in a flying carriage, leaving behind songs among the clouds and graceful dances. Emperor Wu of Han received a jade casket and climbed a silver bridge; the music seemed to conjure robes of rainbow and feather. The King of Huainan had eight immortal youths and nine elders at his side, along with a cloud hound and a celestial rooster. Why are these events so strange? Are such strange happenings really the work of immortals? And were the immortals truly emperors?”

The reply was, “The general idea is that when the heart is filled with the longing to seek immortality, one rises like a dragon borne upon clouds to attend a gathering of immortals.

“Someone who eats mao grass and cultivates through many ages, accumulating merit across generations, will have a body that reaches the level of the crimson clouds. The undertakings arising from his jade table accord with the hidden workings of the Dark Heaven, and his music rings through the celestial realm. Having tasted delicacies as rich as phoenix fat, he can wield the power of the Great Plan and take charge of the ordinances of the Dao. Thus Qin Shi Huang, the Ancestral Dragon, whipped the stones and saw the sea’s ghosts and spirits come to meet him; King Wu of Zhou wished to bring on spring, and swiftly summoned the response of a fire. Transformation and illusion resemble one another; the authority of the Dao is beyond measure.”

Still unsatisfied with such phrases as “his music rings through the celestial realm,” the Immortal Historian rose and said, “The Dao’s answer is profound and mysterious. If you can truly reveal the secrets of the hidden mysteries and discuss their principles, I am willing to listen.”

The questioner replied, “I am willing.”

The Immortal Historian then asked, “Can you write an ‘Rhapsody on Immortal Maidens’?”

The immortal maiden then took up her brush and composed the rhapsody.

She is a spirit dwelling in the numinous abode, and the finest essence among the constellations. Endowed with the Qi of Yin-Yang, she took on her nature; through the Way of transformation, she gathered into bodily form. She wears robes like clouds and rosy mists, can know what is yet to come, and keeps the past deeply concealed. She feeds on the marrow of stones and drinks liquid jade. Her heart holds hidden mysteries, and her mind is clear and discerning.

In the morning she roams the Northern Sea; by evening she lodges at Cinnabar Hill. Her face glows rosy in the sunlight, and her dark hair gathers like autumn clouds. Suddenly she rises into the sky and vanishes into the distance; in an instant she crosses the vast heavens, emerging from the depths. Alas, they met too late and were not fated for one another, like a precious luminous pearl buried away, never to meet anyone who could appreciate it.

She is about to step forward, then hesitates; she means to leave, then pauses again. Fortunately, the host opens the door and invites her to sit. The two drink tea together, gazing at one another. It is like Dong Ji, who supported her companion—how could this be mere playful wandering, like that of the River Goddess? Her wish is to pray for skill and insight beneath the north window, not to compose songs and poems on her own in the eastern tower.

Yet partings are easy and meetings hard; even after coming together, people may part again. She has no settled home, and her usual pastimes and wanderings have no fixed place.

Your expression is dignified and composed, your purpose single-minded and firm, without a stray thought. Your feelings are not sunk in romantic attachment between men and women; the Daoist heart has already ascended to a lofty realm. In speaking with you of the Ziwu Cavern, where Yin and Yang meet in Daoist internal alchemy, your insight surpasses that of the Tang and Song; in revealing the mysteries of Yin-Yang’s transformations, you excel even those of the Qin and Han. Your inquiry into principle grows ever more profound, and your explication of human relationships shines with ever greater eloquence. Why look up to the radiance of the green-weed lamp, that legendary divine light said to aid reading? Would you instead lose yourself in luxurious bedding? You can rouse yourself from a murk as dark as storm clouds, like the sun just rising.

Do not stubbornly rely on yourself; accomplishing things requires the help of others. See whether a gentleman is endowed with the Dao, like the plum blossom seeking the aid of many worthy men; or like a maiden awaiting marriage, while “Ge Tan” from the Book of Songs worries that the proper moment may pass. If you follow ritual propriety but find no opportunity, draw in your gifts and wait for the right time. Advance or withdraw according to whether the other party welcomes or rejects you; wait until the moment becomes clear before you act. Entrust yourself to others while keeping hope in your heart; let human feelings change, and move with the current. I am ashamed that my brilliance falls short of the elixir kept by Tian Sheng, and I feel that Yun Ke’s skill at kindling smoke from cold ashes is beyond me. If people join together through sheer force of will, it goes against reason; if Heaven has arranged it, even winding paths can lead to a fitting outcome. Remember that the mayfly lives for only one evening: one should envy the long years of tortoises and cranes. Not everyone must end in yellow earth; I have truly obtained the precelestial Dao. In the end, transcend the ordinary world and attain immortality, but do not catch the fish and forget the tools used to catch it.

Ge Hong had a wife, and the Queen Mother of the West had a husband. Why do you turn away from the clear breeze, ascending alone into the white clouds in pursuit of the heights? Do not follow only your own heart and regret it later. Why not rely on others to accomplish what you seek? All things respond to one another, and feelings too can come into harmony; what looks the same on the surface may be carried out quite differently. At first, you did not understand what to choose or leave behind; now you should grasp the intention. You do not yet know the joys of life among the immortals, so how could I know what is good about worldly love? Thus I wander between the chambers of Fang and Lu, and sadly make my way toward Yang’e. Alas, my thoughts twist and turn, with nowhere to rest; I can only face the vast, boundless moon and sing aloud. The song goes: “Lovers meet, yet true feeling is lacking; face to face, they seem a thousand miles apart, with only the moon’s empty radiance between them. I sigh into the wind—when will this ever cease?”

Before the song was finished, the last light of day had nearly faded. Her expression grew sorrowful and changed; she seemed dazed, as though she had lost something. She sang again: “The bright moon has already sunk, and the dew…” Face to face, they seem a thousand miles apart, with only the moon’s empty radiance between them.

Facing the wind, I let out a long sigh: Where could I go to find rest? The song was not yet finished, yet the last light of day had already faded. My face was sorrowful, and I drifted as if I had lost my soul. She sang again: “The bright moon has set, and the dew is about to gather. Time passes and never returns; what can I rely on? A beautiful reunion may still be hoped for, but my heart will not break its promise.”

The Immortal Historian, the official who records the history of the Immortal realm, said, “Good. Can you sing another song for me, the ‘Song of the Immortal Historian’?” The immortal maiden held a writing brush in both hands, wrote down the lyrics, and sang:

“On the day I was born, Jupiter entered the Dipper Lodge, one of the seven northern lodges of the Black Tortoise. I cried beneath the Eastern Well Lodge, and the Wall Lodge, associated with writing and literary fortune, watched over my natal star. The Wall Lodge governs writing, while the Dipper Lodge governs the cycle of the years; thus it was fated that my writing would pass from mouth to mouth. At three, I could speak and began learning to recite poems. At four, I could point out written characters and recognize ‘so-and-so.’”

At the age of five, I could already ponder lines of poetry, balance emptiness and substance in parallel couplets, and combine colors such as blue-green, black, and yellow with odd and even numbers in novel ways. When guests took their seats, I could compose a short poem, quickly completing four rhymed couplets without having to think it over repeatedly, as though making the eight-finger gesture. By nine, I had finished reading the Six Classics; I could close the book and recite them without a hitch. My bearing was light and graceful, like a crane in autumn; my features were clear and bright, like willows beneath the spring moon.

People in my native village often enjoyed the care of their elders and teachers, but I was ashamed to associate with children my own age. I was skilled at close analysis, distinguishing similarities from differences, and resolved to nurture the good and remove the wicked. When I took up my brush, I pursued brilliant literary style; even when writing hurriedly in the face of an impending crisis, I would not put down a single careless character. I believed I could seize a flood dragon with my bare hands, and that wealth and rank were as easy to gather as fallen leaves. Yet in the examination halls, where I pursued success through writing, I met only setbacks and could only bow my head in disgrace, like a horse trapped and restrained.

After I returned, I burned incense and sat quietly through the night. I was so busy washing and combing my hair that I did not even have time to clean the grime from my face. I honed my abilities and corrected my mistakes, hoping to rise to prominence again in the future. But foxes and pigs charged about in every direction, while a crowd of petty men clamored at my side. Was this merely a spell of misfortune in my literary fortunes, or had my allotted fate entered a “Yang Nine,” the disastrous cycle described by the ancients? I knew that restoring order amid turmoil could not be achieved by writing alone, so I followed the example of the father and son of the Bu family and sold my land to make a living.

When I returned from Baixia, near present-day Nanjing, I was in such straits that I could only scribble on a broken inkstone and pass the time with an old broom. My money was gone and my clothes were torn, with nothing to mend them, so I had to discuss our situation with my wife. She said, “We have been apart for so long that I sold the last of my jewelry long ago. I have already tried borrowing from the neighbors and asking old friends for help. Your aunt is elderly, and the children are young. Each day I am ashamed to buy fish or shrimp, so we can only get some pigweed and lotus root to eat. I don’t have even one unbroken piece of cloth to keep your aunt warm. Where could I find the silk wadding of Wu to add to your clothes?”

Hearing this, I blushed with shame, tears in my eyes, and went out with my heart in pieces. I was ill, and no servant accompanied me when I left. Fortunately, relatives and friends provided me with food and medicine. I was grateful that my bones and sinews were still strong. Though my beard and sideburns hung down like clouds, my resolve had not weakened. In old age, princes still came from afar to invite me, presenting me with white jade and dark-colored gifts, and bringing me out of my mountain retreat.

I wished to put my talents for governing and administration to use, so I did not decline. Dressed in a scholar’s robes, I bowed with my hands clasped, then sat and talked at length. At the Qing Suo Gate, the water clock was nearing noon, and my frail, sick body…

Master Chen once wrote a poem:

“I was willing to put my knowledge of the classics to the test, and made no excuses. Dressed as a Confucian scholar, I bowed with my hands clasped, then sat down and talked for a long while. Before the Green-Locked Gate, the water clock marked the hour of noon; beside the purple curtains, incense smoke drifted as spring entered through the window. I often leafed through precious documents and inscribed designs of phoenixes; I was also given silver paper on which to write seal characters shaped like tadpoles and dragons. In peaceful times, there is no need to set out for the Jade Gate Pass. I held a jade tablet as though polishing it with gold dust. A person’s life is arranged in advance; there is no need to force one’s way toward what one seeks. The literary renown symbolized by the Eastern Well constellation will surely endure for generations. I entrust all gains and losses to silence, then sing aloud and drink my fill.”

When she had finished singing, she stepped forward and bowed. “You and I are bound by a fate from a former life. You cannot refuse me, and I cannot leave you. I would like to become a breeze and enter your body, Master Chen, tending your household for the rest of your life. What do you think?”

Master Chen replied, “You speak eloquently of mysterious principles, and you are skilled at composing poetry and verse. But what you say now—is it not utterly absurd?”

She said, “In ancient times, the mother of □ Jian was moved by the essence of a Yang constellation and conceived six children. They were born only after her side was cut open. I would enter the body of another maiden with the vital essence of a virgin. I would simply make her more beautiful, increase her wisdom, and double her lifespan. What is there to find strange in that?”

Suddenly, a breeze rose from every direction, and she vanished without a trace. The next morning, my mother-in-law said that her daughter had fallen ill with a strange malady. In alarm, she summoned me to see her, as though she were about to take her leave of this world. When I went to visit, I found that her appearance, bearing, and manner of speaking in illness were exactly like those of the immortal maiden I had met the night before. I was secretly astonished, but only reassured her that she would be all right, then left. A month later, she recovered.

On the fifth day of the first winter month that year, the county magistrate discussed the marriage. Zhang Gong of Xingwu in Jinjiang and Master Yin of Hushan in Anfu, the school instructor, had also heard of the matter. They sent musicians, embroidered curtains, a bridal sedan and attendants, along with generous gifts, and welcomed the bride according to the ancient “goose offering” rite, in which a goose was presented as a wedding gift. After the wedding, her virtue and literary talent continued to grow; this was all due to her strength as Master Chen’s helpmate. Master Chen was named Qianjin, had the courtesy name Xinmei, and the sobriquet Immortal Lady of the Bedchamber.