《吕祖全传》Vol. 1
About this page. The original text of 《吕祖全传》 Vol. 1 (Zangwai Daoshu 藏外道書, 5 volumes) is shown in Classical Chinese as transmitted in the Godners/DaoZang edition. An English interpretation of the 1 passages on this page accompanies it: select a passage or press “Interpretation” to show it. All texts in English
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The Complete Biography of Lüzu was revised by Wang Xiangxu and edited by several others during the Qing dynasty. Told in Lü Dongbin’s own voice, it recounts how he turned from seeking a successful official career to pursuing the Dao.
Lü Dongbin’s surname was Lü, his given name Yan, his courtesy name Dongbin, and his religious name Chunyang. His family came originally from Luoyang in Henan. His grandfather fled a feud and moved to Huoshui Village in Xiangjiu, Guangdong. On the night before Lü Yan was born, his father met a Daoist wearing a yellow headscarf and black clothes, carrying an iron staff and a gourd at his waist. The Daoist left some medicine, saying that Lü Yan’s mother would give birth at midnight the next day and that the medicine would ensure an easy delivery. Then he vanished like a passing breeze. The following night, Lü Yan was indeed born. Fragrance spread for ten li, and a rainbow and purple light appeared outside the house.
Lü Yan was bright from childhood and knew how to honor his elders. At one year old, he could recite the Book of Songs and the Book of Documents. When he was five, his father named him “Yan” after a line of poetry left by the Daoist. After studying for three years, he had memorized the ancient classics and the writings of the various schools of thought. His teacher once tested the students by asking them to write on the theme “Beauty of the East.” Lü Yan composed a poem on the spot. Under the guise of praising a woman, he expressed his resolve not to be led astray by beauty and to cultivate his true Qi. His teacher recognized that he longed to leave the world behind, but said nothing.
Later, Lü Yan’s parents arranged a marriage for him. He did not want to marry, but his parents were displeased, so he reluctantly wed the daughter of Liu Xiaowei, a eunuch. Three years after the wedding, the couple still had not become intimate.
Once, while the Lü family was celebrating the parents’ birthdays, three ragged beggars barged into the hall and said they wanted to beg alongside Lü Yan. He angrily drove them away, and his parents ordered the servants to throw them out as well. The beggars were unperturbed. One, a burly man with a thick beard, fixed them with a glare, and no one dared lay a hand on them. The three sang to mock people ensnared by fame, fortune, and worldly affairs, while they themselves wandered freely among the clouds. They hoped that this might awaken Lü Yan to the Dao. Realizing they were no ordinary men, Lü Yan bowed and invited them to eat, but they refused. The bearded man said they would meet again on the road to Handan, and told Lü Yan to bring three dou of wine. Lü Yan agreed. In an instant, the three turned into birds and flew south.
After the birthday feast, Lü Yan could not stop thinking about the three beggars and lay awake all night. He wrote poems and lyrics expressing his admiration for them. He wanted to follow them and cultivate the Dao, yet felt bound by worldly ties, including his parents and his wife. Later, his friend Jindiao invited him on a boat trip on the Hanyang River. During the gathering, Li Yuanhan predicted that Lü Yan would come first in the imperial examinations the following year. Lü Yan laughed and said that if he really became top scholar, he would hook a fish with a fishhook. Sure enough, a golden fish took the hook. As the three men drank, a blue bird flew in and turned into a Daoist in blue robes. Beating a drum and singing, he urged Lü Yan to put aside his desire for office and worldly attachments and take the path of seeking the Dao. The Daoist also left a verse whose meaning was: do not hurry to go to the capital for the examinations; go as soon as you can to Handan, where you will meet and cultivate the Dao together.
After Lü Yan returned home, his mother fell ill. He cared for her day and night, prayed, performed rituals to the Dipper, and cut flesh from his thigh in an effort to cure her. Later, he went to the Hanyang River himself to fetch water for her. When the local wells ran dry, Lü Yan prayed at the Dragon King shrine at night. A dry well before the hall suddenly welled up with water, and his mother soon recovered. The people of the village believed that his filial devotion had moved the spirits. Later, when the harvest failed and the authorities pressed hard for tax payments, the Lü family had ample grain. Lü Yan discussed the matter with his father, and they paid taxes for the poor who could not afford them. They also used the family’s savings to aid the people, saving more than ten thousand lives. The local officials presented the family with a plaque praising their charitable deeds.
The following year, the commandery recommended Lü Yan to sit the imperial examinations. Before he left, his wife gave him a lyric urging him to return home soon if he passed. On the road, Lü Yan met a fisherman singing a song that mocked those who chased fame and wealth. He said that fishing and drinking on the rivers and lakes gave him greater freedom. One spring day, remembering how old his parents were, Lü Yan wept with grief. His attendant boy urged him on, saying that his journey would bring honor to his parents and wife, who would one day share in his glory. Later, bandits attacked him and took his money, leaving him only his zither and sword. The bearded man who had once come begging at his home appeared again. He reminded Lü Yan that he had driven beggars away and was now himself a destitute wanderer, then offered him food. Hungry, Lü Yan ate, and felt ashamed.
As he passed through a mountain village, Lü Yan heard a herdboy singing about the brevity of life and the dreamlike nature of wealth and rank. People could toil all their lives and still could not escape old age and death. Then a strange-looking Quanzhen Daoist appeared. He advised Lü Yan to keep his footing in the world of fame and profit, while warning him not to lose sight of his true nature. When Lü Yan asked about his prospects, the Daoist said that official service might bring distinction, but would require him to risk his life for the ruler; in the end, fame and rank could not overcome death or an empty grave. The Daoist urged him to wander together. Lü Yan thought that a Daoist’s life of coarse clothes, plain food, and no settled home could hardly be called happy. The Daoist sang in reply: coarse grain and wild greens were better than delicacies, spring water better than fine wine, and even ragged clothes and a humble dwelling could afford freedom. Once one cultivated the Golden Elixir, one would no longer be bound by the world. Lü Yan found these words impractical and meant to leave. The Daoist gave him a small pillow. Folded up, it was less than an inch long; opened, it stretched to three feet, making it useful on the road. The Daoist also said that Lü Yan was about to lose many things and asked whether he would come along. They walked for a while, then the Daoist suddenly vanished.
Lü Yan and the boy reached an inn, but had no money for food. The boy said he had found some money on the road and could use it to pay. At first, Lü Yan refused, saying they should not take what did not belong to them. The boy urged him to preserve his life first, and Lü Yan reluctantly agreed. After eating, he was so tired that he fell asleep, and he took out the pillow the Daoist had given him.
In his dream, Lü Yan went to the capital to sit the examinations. He wrote brilliantly in all three rounds and ranked first. The emperor summoned him, bestowed an official robe and court flowers, and arranged for him to marry the daughter of Chancellor Wen. Lü Yan entered government service, successively serving as prefect, surveillance commissioner, and military governor. He enforced the law strictly and suppressed powerful families, bandits, and illicit shrines, earning the court’s esteem. He and Lady Wen had two sons. He also brought Lady Liu to the capital and placed her above Lady Wen as his principal wife. His parents were granted noble titles as well. After that, Lü Yan repeatedly defended the borders, distinguished himself in battle, and received rewards and honors.
Lü Yan once submitted a memorial asking to resign and return home to care for his parents, but the emperor refused. Later, his parents died, but tensions on the frontier prevented him from leaving office to observe mourning. When the Western Qiang allied with the Jurchen and invaded, Lü Yan was attending his parents’ funerals and could not respond to the military situation in time. The enemy broke through the border defenses. He was taken to the capital, where slanderous ministers framed him. The emperor ordered his execution, and his entire family was put to death. At that moment, Lü Yan suddenly woke up and found that the inn’s yellow millet had only just finished cooking. His examinations, marriage, official career, fame, military achievements, and the ruin of his family had all been a dream. More than thirty years had passed in it.
After the meal, Lü Yan remembered the pillow the Quanzhen Daoist had given him and decided to look for him. The Daoist was waiting beneath a locust tree and asked why Lü Yan had come back. Lü Yan said he had come to return the pillow, but the Daoist asked whether he wanted to sleep once more. Lü Yan lay down with his head on the pillow. In his dream, he followed two boys in blue robes through the underworld, where he saw places of punishment such as the River of Love, the Blood Lake, the Mountain of Knives, and the Cauldron of Oil, along with the souls being tormented there. The two boys explained that these places punished people for the various wrongs they had committed in life. Seeing sinners suffering in the Avici Hell, Lü Yan was overcome with fear and was jolted awake. The Daoist and the boy had vanished, and so had the inn.
That night, Lü Yan was alone in the wilderness. Thinking of his aged parents and his wife, Lady Liu, he sang in grief. A white crane then flew down and sang to him: parents and spouses come together and part like clouds gathering and dispersing; life and death cannot be held in place by wishing. Since separation is inevitable, one should cut through worldly attachments and seek the path to long life. With that, the crane flew away. Lü Yan was awakened to the truth. He let go of his desire for fame and his wish to return home, and resolved to seek a teacher and cultivate the Dao.
Near the locust tree, he met a long-lived Daoist who wandered from place to place. The Daoist saw that Lü Yan had the aptitude for cultivation, but said he had traveled for more than thirty years without finding a genuine path of cultivation and advised Lü Yan to seek another enlightened teacher. Lü Yan then discovered that his boy attendant, Yitong, had hanged himself beneath a willow tree. While Lü Yan slept, Yitong had kept watch through the night. Believing that Lü Yan had died, he had taken his own life in grief. Deeply remorseful, Lü Yan vowed that if he found a true teacher and attained the profound Dao, he would first deliver Yitong from suffering. He buried the boy by the willow’s roots, left his zither and sword as payment, and asked passersby to bury him.
Lü Yan continued waiting for the Quanzhen Daoist beneath the locust tree, living on wild fruit and spring water until his strength began to fail. Later, he met a woodcutter and learned that a Quanzhen Daoist called “Master Jin” lived in the mountains. He asked the woodcutter to guide him there. The woodcutter said that the Daoist was vicious: he often robbed merchants and forced villagers to supply him with food. Lü Yan insisted on going anyway. The bearded man appeared again, still disguised as a Daoist, and tested Lü Yan by urging him to go home and enjoy wealth and rank. Lü Yan firmly refused, saying he meant to find the master in Mount Jinzhong. Another Daoist came to urge him as well, but Lü Yan remained resolute.
Lü Yan endured hunger, exhaustion, and danger along the way, and at night he encountered wild beasts. He cared nothing for his own life and thought only of finding a teacher. On the road, a herdboy gave him a wheat cake and told him that it would take five more days to reach the mountain summit, then another five days to reach the Daoist hermitage. Lü Yan pressed on. At one point he mistook a grass root for a water snake and collapsed with stomach pains. Crows, eagles, and ants came to peck at him. He held firm and eventually recovered, then came upon a family living in the mountains. The young woman of the household wanted him to stay and marry her. When he refused, they locked him in a room. He held to his resolve through the night. When he awoke, he found himself beside a pile of grass; everything he had seen the previous night had been an illusion.
Later, the herdboy appeared again and told him that Master Jin had been blown off a cliff and that crows had pecked at his bones. Lü Yan refused to believe him and decided to see for himself. Several herdboys sang to mock his restless pursuit of fame and the Dao, urging him to release his fixation and become free. Then two old men played chess, and one used the game to advise him to understand life: each move affects the whole board, and a small gain pursued too greedily can cost the entire game. Life, too, is like a chess game, and one should turn back in time. Next, two bandits tied Lü Yan to an old tree. The chess elder rescued him and advised him to go back, but Lü Yan still insisted on finding his teacher.
After walking on, Lü Yan came upon a group of scholars. They believed that seeking immortality and studying the Dao were heretical pursuits, contrary to the ethical duties of filial devotion, loyalty, trust, and propriety. They also said that everyone must die in the end and no one could transcend Heaven and Earth. Lü Yan did not reply and took his leave. Halfway up the mountain, he met a fisherman by a stream. Hearing him sing a relaxed, carefree fishing song, Lü Yan asked him to help him cross the stream. After climbing farther, he met a boy who recited Buddhist prayers and learned that the master had been bitten by a snake while gathering herbs and was near death. Lü Yan hurried to a desolate thatched hermitage, cleared the weeds from the entrance, and knocked to ask for an audience.
At first, the Daoist inside refused to acknowledge Lü Yan as his disciple and scolded him for arriving too late. Lü Yan knelt outside and wept, saying that if he could not become the Daoist’s student, he would jump off the cliff. Only then did the Daoist let him in. One of the Daoist’s feet had rotted, and maggots covered it. Lü Yan did not recoil from the filth or stench. He cleaned the wound and tended to the Daoist through the night. The next day, the Daoist told him to go out and find food. Lü Yan went through many hardships to beg for a meal, but when he returned, the Daoist scolded him again. First he complained that the food was coarse and Lü Yan’s hands were dirty; then he complained that Lü Yan was feeding him too quickly, or too slowly. He even knocked the food over and made Lü Yan kneel down and pick up the grains to eat. Lü Yan bore it all and served him without complaint.
The Daoist next told Lü Yan to fetch water and wash his feet. There was no vessel for carrying water in the mountains, so Lü Yan carried the Daoist on his back to a pool, crouched down, and slowly washed away the decaying flesh. On the way, a fierce wind rose and a white tiger suddenly pounced. Lü Yan shielded the Daoist with his own body and begged the tiger to eat him rather than harm his master. The tiger eventually left. The Daoist now knew that Lü Yan’s resolve was firm. By the next day, the injured foot had healed and the Daoist could stand.
The master took Lü Yan to visit Pine and Plum Ridge and asked him to write a poem about the pine and another about the plum blossom. Lü Yan’s poems described only their outward appearance and practical uses. The master explained that the pine remained upright and unyielding through bitter cold, while the plum blossom was pure, elegant, and hardy, never competing for showy beauty. Each had its own virtue. Those who cultivate the Dao should likewise be upright and steadfast like the pine, and serene and self-contained like the plum, untouched by worldly impurities. Lü Yan listened and contemplated the teaching in silence. Suddenly, the distracting thoughts in his mind seemed to vanish, and he thought he saw many divine beings appear. The master asked whether he had reached an understanding. Lü Yan replied that he had only entered a realm of imagination and still did not know where it came from or where it led.
When he returned to the hermitage, Lü Yan found that the path, which had been blocked, was now clear, and the furnishings inside had all been renewed. The master told him to sit quietly and regulate his breathing, then taught him breathing exercises and the circulation of Qi through the body’s cycle. In Daoist Neidan practice, these terms refer to regulating the breath and guiding Qi through the body. Lü Yan cultivated in the hermitage for one hundred and twenty days, eating dates and chestnuts and drinking dew, until he gradually forgot about sleep and food. The master said that his Qi was now full, the turbid Qi had receded, and the clear Qi had gathered. He urged Lü Yan to return home to visit his parents and come back later. Lü Yan did not want to leave, and the master only smiled without answering.
Before long, the master took Lü Yan to visit the Green Void Cavern and said they would wait for two other masters to arrive. One visitor was a Daoist with a limp who leaned on an iron staff; the other was a white-haired old man with a youthful complexion. The limping Daoist introduced himself as Li Zhushi, and the old man as Zhang Guo, governor of Bohai Commandery. Lü Yan then learned that his master “Jin Zhong” was in fact Zhongli Mei, a Han general. These were the three immortals who had come to the Lü household as beggars and tested Lü Yan; they had simply changed their appearance at the time.
Li Zhushi asked Lü Yan whether he still remembered the beggars from long ago. Recognizing them, Lü Yan bowed repeatedly and apologized. Li Zhushi said that they were now one family, so there was no need to reproach him for the past. The immortals then discussed the principles of Daoist cultivation. Li Zhushi said that the human body was transient, while emotions and circumstances changed without end. From the perspective of physical size, human beings were smaller than Heaven and Earth; yet the processes by which life changed also meant that Heaven and Earth underwent cycles of growth and decline. If one understood how one’s own life was connected to the cycles of Heaven and Earth, one could see that large and small, being and nonbeing, coming and going were not fixed. Zhongli Mei and Zhang Guo each used the flow of rivers as a metaphor, explaining that a person’s original Qi was like water with a source: blockages must be cleared so that it can flow again. Lü Yan composed a poem in response, following their meaning, and the immortals approved.
Li Zhushi then asked Lü Yan where he had come from. Lü Yan replied, “I come from where I came from.” Asked what that was, he answered, “Bright and unbounded.” Li Zhushi explained that a person’s original nature was not any specific form. Outer sights continually appeared and changed, while inner nature could remain still. One must recognize how things in the world change and also hold fast to one’s own source. To understand where life comes from is to understand where it returns; coming and going, large and small, should not become constraints.
At this point in the story, Lü Yan begins to say that all people come from this path, though at first they do not travel far and can still recognize something of where they came from.
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