《御制周颠仙人传》

The immortal Zhou Dian was surnamed Zhou. He claimed to be from Jianchang County, under Nanchang. At the age of fourteen, he developed what was then called a “derangement”—an old term for mental disturbance or erratic behavior. His parents had no time to care for him and often kept him confined. Later, he went to Nanchang and begged in the streets year after year, never going elsewhere. During the Zhizheng era of the Yuan dynasty, though the exact year is no longer remembered, he once suddenly went to Fuzhou, then returned to Nanchang not long afterward. At times he would help out at people’s homes in the neighborhood. By day he spent time with his companions; at night he slept beneath the eaves of private houses.

When he was nearing thirty, he suddenly began saying strange things. Whenever a new official took office, he would go to meet him and say, “I announce peace.” Why was this regarded as an unusual utterance? At the time, the Yuan realm appeared peaceful on the surface, but upheaval was close at hand. Zhou Dian’s words, “I announce peace,” were therefore seen as a strange utterance foretelling that peace would soon come to the realm.

A few years later, the Yuan realm fell into chaos. Zhou Dian went about saying, “I announce peace.”

A few years later, the Yuan dynasty fell into turmoil. Local strongmen seized strategic strongholds, and warfare and killing continued without end. Chen Youliang, who called himself the “False Han,” led a rabble in an attack on Nanchang, but that madman did not speak with him.

Not long afterward, I personally led the navy to retake Nanchang, and the city surrendered. After I had reassured the people and restored order in the city, I returned to Jianye. On the road outside Donghua Gate in eastern Nanchang, I saw a man standing by the roadside and bowing. I asked my attendants, “Who is that?” They all replied, “He’s a madman.”

I returned to Jianye in the third month, and the man arrived only in the sixth. He often came to see me while I was personally overseeing construction work. I asked him, “What have you come for this time?” He answered, “To announce peace.” After that, I often encountered him when I went out in the morning. Each time he said the same thing. Sometimes he was on my left, sometimes on my right, sometimes in front of me, sometimes behind me; he always began by saying, “I announce peace.”

At times, from a distance, I saw him put his hand inside his robe as if searching for something, then bring it to his mouth. I asked him why. He said, “Looking for lice.” When I asked how many he had, he replied, “Two or three dou.” That was more or less the extent of his strange words and behavior.

He knew what troubled me. The first time we met, he said, “The women are rebelling.” He also often sang in the local dialect, “What in this world can stir a person’s heart? Only rouge and face powder can stir the hearts of women and their sisters-in-law.” When people in the village asked what he meant, he replied, “Just keep saying it, just keep saying it.” He did this often, and always said, “I announce peace.”

I was pestered all day by this madman, so I deliberately made him drunk with strong liquor. He drank a great deal but did not get drunk. The next day he came again, still saying that he had many lice on him. So I had new clothes made, intending to replace his old ones. When the new clothes arrived, I saw a stalk of sweet flag, about three inches long, tucked into the waistband of his old skirt. I asked him, “What is this for?” He replied, “Chew it finely, then drink some water, and your stomach won’t hurt.” I chewed the sweet flag as he said and swallowed it with water.

After that, he continued to rave every day, so I ordered people to steam him. At first, they covered him with a large vat and had him sit inside, then burned five-foot-long bundles of reed stalks around it. When the reeds had burned away and the fire went out, they lifted the vat and looked inside. He was still just as he had been before. Later, they steamed him again, burning one and a half five-foot bundles of reed stalks around the vat. When the smoke had cleared and the fire gone out, they lifted the vat. He was still unharmed and as before.

Not long afterward, I used two and a half five-foot bundles of reed stalks to steam him beneath the vat. When the reeds had burned away and the fire went out, they lifted the vat. The smoke had condensed at the bottom like a layer of cotton batting spread out. The madman gently shook his head, passed a little urine, and came to. His body was uninjured.

I ordered that the immortal Zhou Dian be housed at Jiangshan Temple and cared for by the abbot. A little over a month later, the abbot reported that Zhou Dian was behaving strangely. He had quarreled with a young novice over food and then, in a fit of anger, refused to eat. He had gone without food for half a month. Puzzled, I went to see for myself the next day.

When I arrived at the temple, I saw Zhou Dian coming out to greet me from a distance. He walked briskly and with ease, and showed no signs of hunger. This was precisely what made him so unusual. I had a lavish meal prepared and ate with him at Cuiwei Pavilion. Afterward, I spoke privately to the abbot: “Have Zhou Dian fast for a month and see whether he can endure it.” The abbot followed my order and confined Zhou Dian to a room. I asked after him every two days. When I inquired on the twenty-third day, he had indeed taken not a drop of water or a grain of rice. He seemed no ordinary person, so I went in person to let him out.

When the officers and soldiers heard of this, they competed to bring him food and wine. He ate his fill, then vomited up everything he had eaten. Much later, I summoned him and ate with him again, as before. This time he kept the food down. As the wine began to take effect, he left before me and waited for me by the roadside. When I arrived, Zhou Dian drew a circle on the ground with his hand, pointed at me, and said, “Break one bucket, then make another.” Suddenly, he had uttered these strange words.

When the villagers of Jinling heard about him, they vied to invite him into their homes and offer him food and drink. One day, he encountered a young man and suddenly said, “Alas, when they order you into exile, you go into exile.” On another occasion, while sitting at ease and seeing me, he would often sing, “Shandong can only be made into a province.”

Before long, I was to lead a western expedition against Jiujiang. I asked the immortal Zhou Dian, “Can this campaign succeed?” He answered at once, “It can.” I then said, “Our opponent has already proclaimed himself emperor. Won’t it be difficult to fight him now?” Zhou Dian deliberately put on a wild, distracted air and gazed up at the roof. After a long while, he composed himself, brushed the air with his hand, and said, “There’s no sign of him above.” I asked, “Are you willing to come along this time?” He replied, “I am.”

After questioning him, I returned. Zhou Dian picked up the walking stick he usually carried and hurried to my horse, waving it about like a brave warrior brandishing a halberd. It was a sign that victory was assured. When the troops later set out, I took him with me.

When we reached Wancheng, in what is now Anhui, there was no wind on the river, and the fleet struggled to make headway. I sent someone to ask him. Zhou Dian said, “Just keep going; the wind will come on its own. If you lack the courage to go on, there will be no wind.” So the soldiers went ashore and hauled the boats along the bank against the current. After two or three li, a light breeze began to rise. Before they had gone ten li more, a strong wind suddenly sprang up. The fleet set sail and sped along, eventually reaching Xiaogu, or Xiaogu Mountain.

I once said to the people accompanying me, “That madman’s words are unreliable. Keep an eye on him. He’ll also report some outlandish things.” As our boats traveled along the river, a porpoise—a river creature—was playing in the water. Zhou Dian said, “A water monster has appeared ahead. Many people will suffer.” The others reported his words to me, but I did not believe him. Later, Zhou Dian somehow fell into the river. When we reached Hukou, I discovered that seventeen or eighteen people were missing. Someone took Zhou Dian to a small river near Hukou, intending to drown him. After a long while, the man returned, but Zhou Dian came back with him. I asked, “Why didn’t you finish him off? Why bring him back alive?” The man replied, “It’s hard to kill him.”

Before he had finished speaking, Zhou Dian suddenly appeared before me and said he wanted something to eat. I gave him food. After eating, he composed himself and straightened his clothes, as if preparing for a long journey. He came before me, bent forward with his neck extended, and said, “Kill me.” I replied, “You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble, but I still don’t dare kill you. For now, I’ll let you go.” Zhou Dian took some provisions and left. After that, no one knew where he went.

After the great battle around Lake Pengli had been brought to an end, I returned to the river and ordered the navy to form ranks across its waters, securing control of the river. In my spare time, I sent someone toward the Mount Kuang region, following the direction in which Zhou Dian, the legendary immortal, had gone, and asking the local residents where he might be. The messenger set out with provisions, but after leaving, he was never heard from again.

At that time, the area was remote and uninhabited. Only one household lived among the grass beside the Taiping Palace. I had someone describe Zhou Dian’s appearance to the family and ask whether the householder had seen him. The householder replied, “Not long ago, a tall, thin man came here. He said, ‘All right, I’ve come to tell you that peace is near. You people should devote yourselves to farming.’ After saying this, he stayed in my house and went half a month without eating.” The messenger went farther into Mount Kuang, but no one ever learned where he went.

I returned from the campaigns. In the guimao year, I laid siege to Wuchang; in the jiachen year, I pacified Jingchu; in the yisi year, I entered the two Zhejiang regions; and in the wushen year, I pacified Wu and Yue, then conquered the Central Plains, the two Guang regions, and Fujian, ultimately unifying the realm.

In the eighth month of the guihai year of the Hongwu era, a barefoot monk named Juexian suddenly arrived. He said that in a cave among the mountains of Kuanglu (Mount Lu), he had met an old man who told him to come and deliver a message to the Son of Heaven of the Great Ming. Asked what the old man had to say, he replied, “The fate of the state.” The Office of Court Rituals then submitted the matter to me.

I thought that deceitful impostors were numerous these days. As ruler of the realm, I stood above the people and upheld the proper order between Heaven and Earth. If I were to believe such a tale and grant an audience too readily, I feared the people might mock me. So I did not receive him or send a reply. The monk waited four years, then returned to Kuanglu. He probably still hoped to see me, but I did not meet him; I only sent him two poems.

Two years after he left, I sent someone to ask whether he had seen the old man again. The barefoot monk said, “I have not seen him again.” Four years later, I fell gravely ill with a fever and nearly died. Suddenly, the barefoot monk arrived, saying that the Venerable One of the Heavenly Eye and Immortal Zhou Dian had sent him to bring medicine.

At first, I still did not want to see him. Then I thought it over: since I was already ill and someone had brought me medicine, I should at least meet him, even if the medicine was not genuine. So I went out to see Zhou Dian, and he gave me the medicine.

There were two kinds: two tablets of one called “Wenliang Medicine,” and one piece of another called “Wenliang Stone.” The instructions were to put the medicine in a gold box, grind it on one’s back, then pour a cup of the resulting liquid into a gold wine cup and drink it. I followed the instructions. At first, I felt no change. I took it during the hour of Wei (one to three in the afternoon). By the time the lamps were lit, my muscles were twitching all over; this was the medicine taking effect. That night, my illness was cured, and from then on I felt better day by day.

After taking it twice, I smelled the fragrance of calamus in the wine cup. A single grain of sand-dan—a Daoist elixir or pill—had settled at the bottom, an exceptionally vivid red, rarely seen in this world.

The barefoot monk said, “I live at Tianchi Temple, more than five li from the rocky hill. A little later, a Daoist named Xu came and told me that Zhulin Temple had asked him to go and have a look. I went with him, and saw the Venerable Tianyan seated inside Zhulin Temple. Before long, a man dressed in grass-cloth came in.”

Someone asked the Venerable Tianyan, “Who is this person?” Tianyan replied, “This is Zhou Dian. He is the very person the ruler is asking about. The ruler has a fever right now; you should take medicine to him to drink.” Tianyan added, “Zhou Dian and I composed a poem for the ruler.” Someone asked, “Where is the poem? May I see it?” Tianyan replied, “It has already been written in the upper right.” The person looked on the stone and, sure enough, found two poems.

I said to the Barefoot Immortal, “Tianyan also said, ‘Zhou Dian and I composed a poem for the ruler.’ Someone asked, ‘Where is the poem? May I see it?’ Tianyan replied, ‘It has already been written in the upper right.’ The person looked on the stone and, sure enough, found two poems.” I asked the Barefoot Immortal, “Do you remember?” He replied, “I do.” So I ordered someone to transcribe the poems.

At first, I thought these poems crude and plainspoken. They neither rhymed nor used parallel couplets, and did not seem like poetry. Later, I sent someone to Mount Kuanglu (Mount Lu) to summon Zhou Dian, but he had already vanished without a trace. When I read the poems again, I found that their words and phrases were all unusual. They were not deliberately ornate, but simply stated what had happened. The nation’s good or ill fortune, and the forces shaping its survival or downfall, had already been made clear in them. So I recorded them for later generations.

The Venerable Tianyan’s poem says:

“The auspicious signs surrounding a sagely ruler accord with the foundation Heaven has bestowed;

Like a shadow following the body, they remain stubbornly attached.

Beneath the Fengtian Gate, blessings run deep,

Yet when the people suffer calamity, they refuse to rely on them.

Only in the realm of ‘non-nonbeing’ can one emerge from meditative absorption;

The Golden Wheel gathers its power in place and rules over the Four Seas.

When an enlightened ruler governs in accord with the Way, Heaven and Earth stretch without limit;

Even an ordinary act of wisdom can resound like thunder.”

Immortal Zhou Dian wrote in a poem: “When I first saw the enlightened ruler ascend the throne destined for him by Heaven, I saw him at one moment display extraordinary presence and at another seem simple-minded. Talented people from all four quarters flocked to join him, helping him bring the realm together. Beneath the vast expanse of Heaven and Earth, the time had come to accomplish great things. From then on, the ruler brought peace to the country, and his blessings reached as high as Heaven. I hurried to offer my thanks, mindful of the ruler’s kindness. My king was pleased, and believed that this was the perfect time to greatly promote the Buddha’s teachings.”

An ancient poem by the assembled immortals says: “On Mount Lu’s summit lies a secluded, deep valley, where a disciple of the Golden Immortal—a title for the Buddha—dwells in a cave. For many years he has refined elixirs to aid the world. At dawn he tends his fields among the white clouds; at dusk he plants bamboo.”

A poem in praise of the Barefoot Monk says: “Barefoot, he has worked diligently for many years. Who can compare with him in ascetic hardship, emptiness, and rapture? He has dispelled sins accumulated over lifetimes, severed the entanglements of vengeful spirits, and escaped the sorrows of the sea of karma in this age. In the past, I heard that Fangguang Mountain bore traces of an immortal; now, at the Celestial Pool, I see the Buddha’s teachings manifest. The spirits took pity on the people and extended my life. Once the elixir arrived, my long-standing illness was finally cured.”

The emperor’s sacrificial prayer honoring the Celestial-Eyed Venerable, the immortal Zhou Dian, the Daoist Xu, and the Barefoot Monk says:

In the past, you transcended the forms and appearances of all things, as well as the myriad ways, yet through them you preserved the true nature of the one spirit. Thus, through immeasurable kalpas, you endured every hardship.

Now your spiritual powers are wondrous and beyond fathoming. You dwell in seclusion around Mount Lu, and only I know of you. When I have faced danger, you have come to my aid. I will never forget your kindness in helping the world and rescuing those in distress, and I ought to offer thanks in accordance with propriety. Yet your spiritual powers are subtle and unfathomable. You are ordinarily free and unimpeded, moving between Heaven and Earth, wandering at ease through the two realms, traveling across the eight directions, and seeing through worldly affairs. If I were suddenly to hold a sacrificial rite and you did not appear in response, remaining far away, would the people not mock me?

Therefore, I prepared the offerings in advance in the capital and notified the shrines in various places. I also sent an envoy to the foot of Mount Lu to pray to the mountain’s deity. Only then did I carry out the sacrifice in accordance with propriety. This rite is simply an expression of gratitude.

Few people today understand the principles governing the netherworld and the human realm. I respectfully ask you to appear and disappear at will: let good people admire you but find you difficult to see, and let evil people, even if they see you, find it difficult to approach you. Would this not benefit the moral life of the world?

I have respectfully examined this matter. As the saying goes, “Whether immortals exist is truly hard to say; where in the world could there be immortals? It is all sheer nonsense.” Yet now it appears that the accounts of Zhou Dianxian from the early years of the founding of the state are, one by one, well attested and cannot all be dismissed as false. In general, there are indeed people in heaven and earth who possess the bearing of immortals. But immortals and ordinary people follow different paths; one cannot attain that state through force of will or strenuous practice.