《续仙传》

The three juan of the Continued Biographies of Immortals are attributed in old editions to Shen Fen, magistrate of Lishui County during the Tang dynasty. Chen Zhensun notes in his Explanations of Books and Records that Shen Fen’s name is also sometimes written Shen Bin. The account in Wu Shu’s Records of Unusual People in Jianghuai, in which the imperial attendant Shen Fen playfully enters seated death, shows that he, too, was a Daoist figure. It is therefore likely that he was the author of this book.

The book mentions Tan Qiao and calls Yang Xingmi “Taizu of Wu,” so the “Tang” referred to here must be Southern Tang. The upper juan records sixteen people who ascended to immortality, beginning with Zhang Zhihe; the middle juan records twelve recluses who underwent transformations, beginning with Sun Simiao; and the lower juan records eight recluses who underwent transformations, beginning with Sima Chengzhen.

The book inevitably mixes in hearsay, but for the most part it elaborates on people’s deeds rather than inventing stories from nothing. Zhang Zhihe appears in Yan Zhenqing’s collected works, Lan Caihe in the History of Southern Tang, Xie Ziran in Han Yu’s collected works, and Xu Xuanping in Li Bai’s collected works. Works by Sun Simiao, Sima Chengzhen, and Tan Qiao have also been handed down. The book includes poems by Ma Ziran, Xu Que, Qi Xiaoyao, Xu Xuanping, Li Sheng, Xu the Angler, Tan Qiao, and Li Yangbing.

However, the story of someone who encountered an immortal envoy while crossing the sea and, upon returning, became a disciple of Sima Chengzhen is told differently in the two sections: the upper juan says the person met the female immortal Xie Ziran, while the lower juan says it was the female immortal Jiao Jingzhen. These cannot possibly be the same event. This shows that when the author occasionally made up hearsay, he forgot that the versions contradicted one another.

Respectfully collated in the fifth month of the forty-fifth year of the Qianlong reign. The chief compilers were Ji Yun, Lu Xixiong, and Sun Shiyi; the chief proofreader was Lu Feichi.

Since ancient times, everyone has heard accounts of immortals. Yet their feats of soaring into the sky, vanishing from sight, and transforming themselves are difficult for ordinary people to witness firsthand. The sages of old once said that among those in the world who attain the Dao and become immortals, scarcely one in a thousand is even heard of. Moreover, histories do not record the affairs of immortals, so many of their stories have not been passed down.

The purpose of examining histories closely is to guide later generations through the principles of ruler and subject, parent and child, good governance and disorder, loyalty and filial piety. If people were to promote without restraint ideas of emptiness and natural spontaneity, they would no longer be governed by rules. The Records of the Grand Historian says that three divine mountains lie in the sea, where immortals dwell in palaces of gold and silver, and the elixir of immortality grows on the mountains. Whenever someone tried to approach them, the wind would blow the boat away, so that no one could ever reach them. This, too, was intended as a warning to the world.

The affairs of immortals are indeed extraordinary, and their numinous transformations are beyond conjecture. At the beginning of cultivating the Dao, one must guard the One (concentrating the spirit on a single point) and refine Qi (cultivating the breath, body, and mind), observe the rules, and persevere diligently, taking care not to make even the smallest mistake. Once the cultivation is complete, one can undergo myriad transformations and move among ordinary people: some live in seclusion in the mountains and forests, while others come and go in the cities. Those who ascend to become immortals mostly journey to the islands in the sea. Those whose accumulated merit and practice are profound become celestial officials; those whose attainments are more modest remain ordinary immortals. Across the Ten Continents, the legendary overseas abodes of immortals, there are often tens of thousands of households. The immortals cultivate fields of numinous mushrooms and reckon their harvest by the acre, just as people do when growing rice. In the immortal realm, celestial officials govern the immortal people; in the human world, too, there is a distinction between immortals and ordinary people.

The so-called transformation through concealment means leaving behind one’s former body as a cicada leaves its shell, shedding the old form and taking on a new one. One nurtures primordial Qi and stabilizes the body in a mountain cave, then ascends to join the ranks of the perfected immortals. These things are indeed not false.

I, Shen Fen, have admired the arts of the Dao since childhood, though I am ashamed of the habits I had accumulated from my earlier life, and once restrained myself in an effort to guard against them. As I grew older, I kept in memory the words of every accomplished person I encountered, as well as the events I heard of or witnessed over many years. Furthermore, the histories of the realm do not record these matters, and the relevant accounts are scattered among the people. The books also remained incomplete after the upheavals of the Zhonghe era (881–885), the reign period of Emperor Xizong of the Tang. Unless someone takes up the brush to record and compile these accounts, the people who know of them will gradually grow fewer as the years pass, and these matters may silently disappear. That would be a great pity. I have therefore now gathered these accounts into several volumes, hoping to provide material for discussion among gentlemen who cherish this path and those who study the Dao, and to bring the deeds of the perfected immortals to light.

Written by Shen Fen.

The first volume of the Xu Xian Zhuan (Further Biographies of Immortals) records sixteen immortals who “ascended,” three of them female. This passage introduces Xuanzhenzi, Zhang Zhihe, and Lan Caihe.

Xuanzhenzi’s surname was Zhang and his personal name was Zhihe. He came from Shanyin in Kuaiji. Widely learned and skilled at writing, he passed the jinshi examination. He was also a talented painter and could drink three dou of wine without becoming drunk. He cultivated himself and nurtured his Qi: even lying in the snow, he felt no cold, and when immersed in water, his clothes stayed dry. He traveled among the mountains and rivers throughout the land.

He was close friends with Yan Zhenqing, Duke of Lu. When Yan served as governor of Huzhou, he often gathered with his guests to drink and compose poems in reply to one another. Together they created the Fisherman’s Songs. Zhang Zhihe wrote the first song, which says: “White birds fly beside Xisai Mountain; peach blossoms drift on the stream, where the mandarin fish are plump. A blue bamboo hat, a green straw raincoat; in the slanting breeze and fine rain, there is no need to go home.” A bamboo hat is woven from bamboo strips, and a straw raincoat is made from grass. Yan Zhenqing then exchanged poems with Lu Hongjian, Xu Shiheng, Li Chengju, and others. They composed more than twenty songs, admiring and praising one another’s work.

Zhang Zhihe had someone cut white silk to size, then painted scenes on it with colored pigments and inscribed the song lyrics in the paintings. He made five paintings depicting flowers and trees, birds, fish, mountains, and rivers. They were exceptionally wondrous, with few works from ancient times to rival them. Yan Zhenqing and his guests passed the paintings around, exclaiming in admiration.

Later, when Yan Zhenqing traveled east to Pingwang Post Station, Zhang Zhihe was in high spirits from drinking. He spread a mat across the water, sat alone upon it, drank wine, and chanted poems. The mat moved across the water at will, speeding up or slowing down as if someone were rowing it. Clouds and cranes also gathered overhead, covering the mat. Yan Zhenqing’s relatives, friends, and staff saw this and were all astonished. Zhang Zhihe waved to Yan Zhenqing from the water to bid him farewell, then ascended and departed. His paintings are still held and passed around by collectors today.

Lan Caihe (the name of the next immortal).

No one knows where Lan Caihe was from. He often wore a tattered blue shirt and a black wooden belt with six holes, more than three inches wide. He wore a boot on one foot and left the other bare. In summer, he stuffed cotton wadding inside his shirt; in winter, he lay in the snow, his breath rising like steam.

He often wandered through the city singing and begging, carrying a large clapper more than three feet long. Frequently drunk, he would stride along to his songs as old people and children gathered to watch. Quick-witted and fond of joking, he answered questions at once and often made everyone laugh until they collapsed. He seemed mad, but was not truly mad. As he walked, he would shake his boot and sing: “Step, step, sing—Lan Caihe! How long can this world last? A lovely face is like a springtime flowering tree; the years slip by like a shuttle. The ancients departed one after another and never returned; people of today keep arriving, growing ever more numerous. At dawn, riding a phoenix, I fly into the blue sky; by dusk, white waves surge through the mulberry fields. Bright sunlight shines at the edge of heaven, where golden and silver palaces tower high.” Most of his songs had an otherworldly air, and people could not fathom their meaning.

When someone gave him money, he threaded it onto a long cord and dragged it along the ground. If the coins scattered, he never looked back. When he saw someone poor, he sometimes gave them the money; at other times, he spent it with tavern keepers. He traveled all over the world this way. Some people had seen him as children and encountered him again with their hair turned white, yet Lan Caihe’s appearance had not changed.

Later, while singing and dancing near Haoliang, he climbed onto a tavern roof after getting drunk. Suddenly, the cry of a crane came from among the clouds, accompanied by the music of flutes and pipes. He then rose gently into the clouds, leaving behind only his boot, shirt, belt, and clapper, which he dropped to the ground as he gradually disappeared.

Zhu Ruzhi was from Angu in Yongjia. In his youth, he became a disciple of the Daoist Wang Yuanzheng and lived at Dayan Rock. This was where Tao Hongjing wrote the Zhengao and practiced cultivation; it was also known as “Zhengao Rock.” Tao Mountain lies to the west of the rock.

Zhu Ruzhi diligently served Wang Yuanzheng and longed deeply for the Dao of the Immortals. He often went up the mountain to gather and eat yellow essence, continuing this practice for more than ten years. One day, as he washed vegetables by a stream, he suddenly saw two little dogs with mottled coats chasing and playing on the bank. Finding this strange, he followed them and watched them disappear into a thicket of goji. When he returned, he told Wang Yuanzheng what had happened. Wang was astonished too, so the two went together to investigate.

They saw the two little dogs jumping and playing beneath the goji thicket. As they approached, the dogs disappeared into it again. Wang Yuanzheng and Zhu Ruzhi dug together and unearthed two sections of goji root shaped like little dogs, their substance hard as stone. They washed the roots and took them home to boil. Zhu Ruzhi added firewood and watched over the stove for three days and nights. He tasted the liquid and found it very sweet, so he kept drinking it. When the goji roots had softened, he told Wang Yuanzheng what had happened, and the two ate them together. Before long, Zhu Ruzhi suddenly ascended into the air above a mountain peak. Wang Yuanzheng was astonished. Zhu Ruzhi bade his master farewell and departed on a cloud. From then on, local people called that peak “Youth Peak.”

Wang Yuanzheng later ate the remaining goji root as well. No one knew how many years he lived after that. He withdrew to Tao Mountain, west of the rock, where woodcutters could still sometimes see him.

Old Wang of Yijun

Wang Lao was from Yijun County in Fangzhou and lived in the countryside. He greatly loved the Daoist arts and often did good deeds in secret. His wife shared his purpose and worked alongside him without ever tiring.

One day, an old Daoist in ragged clothes came to their door. Wang Lao and his wife welcomed him together with great respect. The old Daoist stayed for more than a month, often chatting and drinking with Wang Lao. The two got along very well. Before long, the old Daoist’s whole body broke out in festering sores. Wang Lao sought doctors and medicines everywhere and cared for him attentively, but the Daoist’s condition worsened day by day. Nearly a year passed. The Daoist said to Wang Lao, “These sores cannot be treated with ordinary medicine. They will heal if you soak me in several hu of wine.”

Wang Lao carefully brewed the wine. When it was ready, the Daoist told him to pour it into a large urn, saying he would add medicine and soak in it. Then he climbed inside. Three days later, when he emerged, his hair and beard had turned black, his appearance had grown young again, and his skin was smooth and delicate, like congealed fat. Everyone in Wang Lao’s household was astonished.

The Daoist said to Wang Lao, “This wine can be drunk. It can make a person ascend to heaven.” Wang Lao believed him. At first, the urn held more than five hu of wine; later, only two or three sheng remained. The wine was clear and fragrant, far better than ordinary wine. At the time, Wang Lao was harvesting wheat, so he drank it with his wife and children and the people helping them with the harvest. Everyone became drunk and collapsed. The Daoist drank some too, then asked Wang Lao, “Would you like to ascend to heaven?” Wang Lao replied, “I am willing to follow you, Master, wherever you go.”

At once, an auspicious wind rose and green clouds surged. The house, the trees and plants, the whole family, and even the chickens and dogs all flew up into the sky. The sound of threshing wheat could still be heard. People in several nearby villages saw what happened and were astonished. Only the cat and the mice remained behind. When the wind died down, the hired workers who had helped with the harvest were left beneath a tree in another village. One of them later stopped eating and eventually attained immortality as well.

Thirty li west of Yijun County is a place called Ascension-to-Immortality Village. According to tradition, this is where Wang Lao and his family ascended to immortality.

Hou Daohua

Hou Daohua said that he had come from Mount Emei and was staying at Yongle Abbey in Hezhong. His behavior seemed mad, and the Taoists at the abbey all looked down on him. When any part of the abbey’s buildings needed repair, he took up an axe and fixed it. He could also climb to high, dangerous places that others could scarcely reach. He took on all kinds of menial, exhausting work as well: whether visitors were Taoists or ordinary people, he carried water for them, heated it, washed their feet and clothes, cleaned the latrines, and watered the gardens. The more he did, the more people scorned him. They drove him away, shouted at him, and treated him like a servant, but he accepted it all cheerfully.

Hou Daohua often read the classics, histories, philosophical works, and collected writings, never letting a book leave his hands. After reading something once, he could recite it from memory. When someone asked why he studied so much, he replied, “There are no foolish, ignorant immortals in Heaven.” Everyone laughed when they heard this.

More than ten years later, a strange light suddenly appeared on a beam in the main hall. People said that during the Kaiyuan era, Celestial Master Liu had successfully made an elixir and tested it on a dog. The dog died, so he dared not take the elixir himself and hid it in the hall’s beam. Everyone thought this was nothing but a baseless tale. Later, a violent storm damaged the roof, and Hou Daohua climbed up onto the beam. He discovered that the light was shining from a hollow in the wood. He chiseled it open and found a small box made of three nested cases. Inside the innermost gold case lay an elixir. He swallowed it and threw the boxes down, but nothing changed immediately, so everyone assumed he was making it up.

One day, Hou Daohua returned drunk from the marketplace. In front of the abbey stood a pine tree with a broad, umbrella-like crown, a beautiful sight. Wearing wooden clogs, he climbed the tree and cut off all its branches. The Taoists tried repeatedly to stop him, but he ignored them, saying only, “It will hinder me when I ascend to Heaven.” Since everyone had always taken him for a madman, this made them angrier still. Just then, the magistrate of Yongle County arrived at the abbey. Seeing the tree cut down, he was astonished, and the Taoists told him everything. The magistrate scolded and humiliated Hou Daohua, but he remained cheerful.

Seven days later, Hou Daohua rose early, bathed, and changed his clothes. He burned incense and said, “The immortal envoy is coming to receive me.” Then he repeatedly bowed toward the sky. The others still did not believe him. Before long, someone reported that immortal cranes were circling in the clouds above the pine tree in front of the abbey, accompanied by the clear sound of flutes and mouth organs. Hou Daohua suddenly rose into the air and sat atop the pine. The people rushed over in alarm to watch. The magistrate, officials, Taoists, and laypeople all came running to pay their respects. The magistrate, who had previously insulted Hou Daohua, bowed until his forehead bled. Hou Daohua waved goodbye and said, “By the Jade Emperor’s decree, I have been appointed a Gentleman of the Immortal Terrace and placed in charge of the Good Faith Courtyard at the Shangqing Palace. Now I am leaving.” A moment later, the immortals in the clouds appeared faintly, playing music and carrying banners and standards, then departed through the air.

Ma Xiang, whose courtesy name was Ziran, came from Yanguan County in Hangzhou. His family had served for generations as minor county officials, but Ma Xiang alone took an interest in the classics, histories, and literature. Later, he followed Daoist masters on their travels, roaming across the land.

After returning to the south of the Yangtze, Ma Xiang once got drunk in Huzhou and fell into the Zha Stream. He emerged only after a whole day, yet his clothes were dry. Sitting on the water, he came to the bank and told people, “Just now, Xiang Yu summoned me to drink with him. I came back after we had nearly finished.” Onlookers crowded along the bank like a wall. Ma Xiang reeked of wine and looked as if he had gone mad, and passersby gathered to watch. Sometimes he shoved his fist into his nose and pulled it out again, leaving his nose unharmed. He pointed at the stream, and the water flowed backward for a long time; he pointed at a willow, and it moved back and forth along the stream; he pointed at a bridge, and it broke apart, then joined together again.

Later, Ma Xiang traveled to Changzhou, just as Ma Zhi took up the post of prefect there. Ma Zhi had long heard of Ma Xiang’s reputation, so he invited him to meet and treated him with great respect. Ma Zhi said, “Daoist brother, we happen to share a surname. I would like us to become brothers, and I hope to learn your Daoist arts. Would that be possible?” Ma Xiang joked, “You are a Ma from Fufeng, while I am a ‘horse and ox in the wind.’ We need only know each other. Why make an issue of sharing a surname?” The phrase “horse and ox in the wind” means that two things have nothing to do with each other; Ma Xiang used it to tease Ma Zhi. Ma Zhi still kept him at the government office, finding everything about him extraordinary.

At a banquet, Ma Zhi asked Ma Xiang to show a little magic. Ma Xiang filled a porcelain vessel with soil, planted melon seeds, and before long the vines had grown, flowered, and borne fruit. The guests tasted the melons and said they were fragrant and sweet, unlike ordinary ones. Ma Xiang also drew money from his clothes and socks, in quantities too great to count. He gathered the coins and tossed them into a well. At his call, they flew out one by one. Some people picked up the money, but before long it vanished again.

Ma Zhi said that the city was overrun with rats. Ma Xiang drew a talisman and had it pasted beneath the south wall. He tapped a plate with chopsticks and gave a long whistle. Rats came running in crowds and crouched beneath the talisman. Ma Xiang called over a large rat and said to it, “You are small creatures born of Heaven, and Heaven provides you with food. Why burrow into people’s homes and disturb the prefect day and night? I feel compassion for you and do not wish to kill you all. Take your companions and leave here at once.” The large rat turned and led the way. The others seemed to bow in apology, then streamed out of the city. From then on, there were no more rats in the city.

Later, Ma Xiang traveled south to Yuezhou and passed by Dongyan Chan Monastery. Its three hundred monks were eating their vegetarian meal. Ma Xiang arrived with Wang Zhifang, a Daoist from Yongkang County in Wuzhou, and Wang’s disciple Wang Yansou. The monks recognized Ma Xiang and Wang Zhifang, but stayed seated and continued eating, offering them only a little food. Ma Xiang did not eat. He urged Wang Zhifang and Wang Yansou to finish quickly and leave. After they left the monastery, he hurried them along again.

The three reached an inn south of Zhuji County, more than seventy li from the monastery. Late that night, someone came looking for the Daoists. The innkeeper answered at once, saying there were three Daoists staying there. The visitor was delighted and asked to see them. Two monks came in. They repeatedly bowed and pleaded, saying that the monastery’s monks had been punished for slighting the Daoist masters that day, and that all three hundred were still unable to get out of bed. The two visitors, who were in charge of monastery affairs, had not been seated at the time, so they had come specially to plead for the others. Ma Xiang only went on sleeping and did not reply. Wang Zhifang and Wang Yansou merely laughed. The monks begged persistently, until Ma Xiang finally said, “Do not deliberately slight people again. Go back and sit down when you enter the monastery, and the monks will naturally be able to get out of bed.” When the two monks returned, it happened just as he had said.

The next day, Ma Xiang continued south. It was spring, and he saw a fine crop of Chinese cabbage growing in someone’s field. He wanted some, but the owner refused and spoke rudely to him. Ma Xiang asked Wang Yansou to bring paper and brush. Wang Zhifang said, “You wanted some vegetables and were refused; there is really nothing to argue about. Besides, how can a person cultivating the Dao behave this way?” Ma Xiang smiled and said, “I am not trying to argue. I’m only playing a little joke.” He painted an egret, sprinkled it with water, and it flew into the field to peck at the vegetables. When the owner chased it away, it took off and landed again, over and over. Ma Xiang then painted a small dog and sent it after the egret. The two raced around the field, trampling the vegetables and leaving them in disarray. The owner realized that the Daoist was playing a trick on him and, fearing they might use some other magic, begged Ma Xiang to stop. Ma Xiang called the egret and dog back. They both flew into his arms. When they looked at the field again, not a single vegetable had been damaged.

Ma Xiang traveled farther south to Mount Huotong and lodged at an inn in Changxi County. The inn was full of guests. The owner joked that there was no bed for him, and that he would take the Daoist in only if he could sleep on a wall. As evening fell, Wang Zhifang and Wang Yansou grew anxious about finding somewhere to spend the night. Ma Xiang told them, “You can sleep in the guest room. I can spend the night sitting up.” Once everyone had gone to bed, he leapt onto a roof beam, hooked one foot over it, and slept upside down. The innkeeper got up to light a lamp during the night and was astonished to see him. Ma Xiang said, “If I can sleep on a beam, what is so difficult about sleeping on a wall?” Then he slipped into the wall and did not come out for a long time. The owner apologized again and again, begging him to emerge, and invited Wang Zhifang and Wang Yansou into a clean room in his home. Only then did Ma Xiang reappear. At dawn, the owner earnestly urged him to stay, but Ma Xiang suddenly vanished. Wang Zhifang and Wang Yansou had gone several li down the road before they noticed that he was already waiting by the roadside.

From Mount Huotong, Ma Xiang returned to the Tianbao Abbey east of Yongkang County. There was a dead pine in the abbey. Pointing to it, Ma Xiang said, “This pine is more than three thousand years old. Before long, it will turn to stone.” Later, a great wind and thunderstorm came, and the pine fell beside the mountain, breaking into several pieces. Yang Fa, who had been demoted from military commissioner of Guangzhou to prefect of Wuzhou, enjoyed strange and unusual things. He moved two pieces of the petrified pine to the prefectural residence and sent the other two to the Nine Pine Court at Longxing Monastery. Each stone section was six or seven chi high and more than three chi across. Its surface still bore scaly patterns like pine bark, and the stones remain there to this day.

When sick people came to seek help, Ma Xiang had no medicine. He simply struck the painful spot with a bamboo staff, then pointed the staff at the illness in their abdomen or elsewhere on their bodies and blew toward its tip. The staff gave off a sound like thunder, and the sick person recovered. Some people came bent over with ailments of the feet, knees, waist, or back, leaning on a cane. Ma Xiang struck them once with his bamboo staff and told them to let go of their canes; their bodies immediately straightened. Sometimes people gave him money or cloth. He declined again and again, and if he could not refuse, he accepted the gifts and then gave them to the poor.

At the abbeys, grottoes, and mountain cliffs he visited, Ma Xiang often left poems. When he climbed Mount Qinwang, he wrote:

“Where can one seek the Great One’s first division of Heaven and Earth?

Only changing reckonings remain, altering the human heart.

The sun and moon of the nine heavens shift from dawn to dusk;

Across ten thousand li, mountains and rivers change from age to age.

Wind stirs the water’s light, swallowing distant horizons;

Rain carries mountain haze, veiling the high woods.

The First Emperor’s scheme to drive the mountains was in vain;

The vast blue sea remains boundless, deeper than before.”

The poem reflects on how the world has changed since Heaven and Earth were formed: sun, moon, mountains, and rivers all pass through the changes of time. The First Emperor’s plan to drive the mountains was ultimately futile, and the sea remains vast and boundless.

Later, Ma Xiang returned to his hometown to visit his elder brother, but his brother happened to be away. He said to his sister-in-law and nephew, “My brother and I own this house together. I have come back to divide it, and I want only the east garden.” His sister-in-law and nephew found this strange. Their uncle had been away for many years, and the brothers had not even met yet. Why speak of dividing the property as soon as he returned? They felt that family members should not act this way. Ma Xiang stayed for three days. His sister-in-law and nephew saw that he ate nothing and drank only wine. When his brother still had not returned, Ma Xiang suddenly died during the night.

His brother returned the next day. After hearing his wife and child explain what had happened, he was overcome with grief. He said, “My younger brother studied the Dao for many years. He did not come back this time to divide the house. He used that as a way to entrust me with what was to come after his death, so I would not remain attached to him.” The family prepared his body for burial, but that night the coffin suddenly made a sound. Everyone thought it a strange omen, so they buried the coffin in the garden. This was the tenth year of the Dazhong era of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (856).

The following year, Dongchuan submitted a report saying that a Daoist named Ma Ziran had ascended to Heaven in broad daylight in Zitong County, Jianzhou. In Dongchuan, Ma Xiang had told people, “I, Xiang, have just attained immortality in western Zhejiang. Now, summoned by the Jade Emperor, I am to ascend to Heaven here in broad daylight.” The authorities reported the matter to the emperor, who ordered Hangzhou in the Western Zhejiang Circuit to investigate. When they opened the grave and coffin, they found that only a bamboo staff remained.

No one knows where Wu Tongfang came from. He was a Daoist with a clear and composed expression. He often sat quietly without speaking, sometimes recited poetry, and sometimes drank himself drunk. He frequently traveled among the famous mountains of Hongzhou, around present-day Nanchang in Jiangxi. People saw him for many years, then suddenly did not see him for more than a decade. When he appeared again, he looked younger than before. Even the well-informed could not fathom his origins. He took elixirs, wandered unpredictably, and eventually, drunk in a tavern, soared up and vanished.

Xu Que said he was from Gaoyang, an ancient place name. In his youth he sat for the jinshi examinations, but failed several times. In his later years he studied the Dao on Wangwu Mountain, then traveled among the Five Great Mountains and other famous mountains and grottoes. Setting out from Mount Emei, he passed through the two capitals—Chang’an and Luoyang in the Tang dynasty—and traveled through Jingxiang and Biansong, the Jianghuai region, Mount Mao, Mount Tiantai, Siming, Xiandu, Weiyu, Wuyi, Huotong, and Luofu. At each place, he inscribed these words on sheer, rugged cliffs that ordinary people could scarcely reach: “Xu Que has come from Mount Emei in search of Yanyuezi. He has visited this place.” Everyone who saw the writing marveled at its supernatural quality, but no one ever learned who Yanyuezi was.

Later, Xu Que often traveled around the Lujang area. Once, drunk, he chanted: “Among the flowers of Langyuan, the fabled paradise, lies the land of drunkenness. I overturned the Queen Mother’s cup of nine rosy clouds, the vessel said to hold immortal wine. The immortals clapped and laughed at my wild ways, so I was banished to the human world to become a drunken madman.” When people asked him about these words, he said that he was a celestial immortal who had been attending a banquet on Mount Kunlun, but was banished to the human world for behaving improperly. Everyone laughed at him, thinking him mad. Later, on a fine spring day, he adorned his head with flowers, danced with flowering branches in his hands, and climbed onto a tavern terrace to sing while drunk. Then he rode the clouds upward and vanished.

Jin Keji

Jin Keji was a native of Silla who came to the Tang court as a tribute student seeking the jinshi degree. Quiet by nature, he loved Daoist arts and had no desire for luxury. At times he practiced methods such as breath cultivation and physical refinement, taking pleasure in them. He was widely read and had a strong memory. His writing was elegant, his appearance handsome, and his speech and manners reflected the refinement of the Central Plains. Before long, he passed the jinshi examination and withdrew to Ziwugu Valley in the Zhongnan Mountains.

He did not aspire to wealth or glory. Instead, he planted many rare flowers and unusual fruit trees with his own hands. He often burned incense and sat quietly, as if deep in thought, and continually recited the Dao De Jing and various scriptures of the immortals. Three years later, he thought of his homeland and left by sea. He later returned to the Tang, wearing Daoist robes, and once again entered the Zhongnan Mountains, devoting himself to doing good and cultivating De. He never turned away anyone who asked for help, and his diligence was beyond the reach of ordinary people.

In the twelfth month of the eleventh year of the Dazhong era, Jin Keji suddenly submitted a memorial stating, “I have received an edict from the Jade Emperor appointing me Vice Minister of Yingwentai. On the twenty-fifth day of the second month next year, I am to ascend to Heaven.” Emperor Xuanzong of Tang found this remarkable and sent a palace messenger to summon him, but Jin firmly declined to go. He then asked for an audience with the emperor and explained that he was responsible for the affairs of the ranks of immortals and would not remain in the human world. The emperor bestowed on him four palace women, fragrant medicines, gold, and silk, and assigned two palace messengers to attend to him.

Jin Keji, however, lived alone in a quiet chamber and rarely went near the palace women or messengers. Each night, laughter and conversation could often be heard from within. When the messengers secretly peered inside, they saw immortal officials and immortal women seated on dragons and phoenixes, facing one another, with many attendants standing nearby. The palace women and messengers did not dare disturb them.

On the twenty-fifth day of the second month, the spring weather was bright and the flowers and grasses were in full bloom. Just as Jin had foretold, five-colored auspicious clouds appeared in the sky, along with calling cranes and white swans. Music like that of flutes, mouth organs, bells, and chimes filled the air. Feathered canopies, jade chariot wheels, banners, and ceremonial standards covered the sky, and a great procession of immortals appeared. Jin Keji ascended to Heaven. Officials of the court and common people crowded into the valley to watch. Everyone gazed upward and bowed in worship, filled with astonishment.

Song Xuanbai

Song Xuanbai’s origins are unknown. He was a Daoist, more than seven feet tall, with refined features and a dignified appearance. He was well built and fair skinned, and spoke with graceful eloquence. Everyone who met him liked him.

He possessed Daoist arts. In summer he wore padded clothes, while in winter he wore only a single layer. Even when he lay in the snow, steam rose from the ground within a radius of ten feet around him, and the snow could not settle. A touch of his finger could put out a lamp. When he pointed at someone, that person felt a piercing chill, as if a cold draft had slipped through a crack. When he pointed at the plants in a courtyard, they trembled slightly.

He often traveled among famous mountains. After leaving Maoshan, he stayed at Xixuan Monastery in Runzhou, and later visited Kuocang Mountain and Xiandu Mountain. He practiced fasting and cultivating Qi, yet he loved wine and sometimes ate pork. Each time, he would eat five jin of meat with a bowl of garlic sauce. He ate the meat with his hands, then drank two cups of wine from a small cup made of white plum wood.

Someone once obtained a piece of garlic he had eaten and tasted it. The garlic had no garlic flavor; instead, it gave off an unusual fragrance that lingered between the teeth and tongue all day. Many people in the area ate this garlic, and it was said that they never fell ill and mostly lived to the age of eighty or ninety.

Whenever Song Xuanbai stayed somewhere, he would use gold and silk to obtain two or three concubines. When he left, he would leave them behind. People therefore believed that he knew the art of replenishing the brain and restoring the primordial essence.

Later, while traveling in Yuezhou, he arrived during a severe drought. The local people were exposing effigies of the drought demon to the sun, playing music, and dancing with dragon figures to pray for rain. More than ten days passed, and the drought only grew worse. Song Xuanbai believed that rain depended on Heaven’s decree: unless a petition was submitted to the celestial court, rain could not be summoned. So he stayed at Xuanzhen Monastery, burned incense, and prayed. That night, rain poured down until enough had fallen. The people of Yuezhou thereafter regarded him as a supernatural being.

He traveled farther south and reached Xinzhou, where he again encountered a severe drought. During the local prayers for rain, a Daoist who knew Song Xuanbai could bring rain informed the prefecture, and officials asked him to intervene. He immediately performed a spell, sending nails flying into the eyes of the City God’s statue. Prefect Wei Delin saw that Song Xuanbai kept women in his household and had nailed the City God’s statue. Taking him for a sorcerous madman, he planned to punish and humiliate him. But as soon as the strong runners he sent approached Song Xuanbai, their hands and feet became immobile and they fell to the ground; their shackles and staffs also broke apart on their own.

Song Xuanbai smiled at Wei Delin and said, “My lord, do you still not understand? Liu Gen wants to reveal himself so that you will punish your ancestors and parents.” Wei Delin was then overcome with fear. After a brief prayer, the rain began to fall. Wei Delin treated him with respect and saw him off. Song Xuanbai performed many other wondrous arts, too numerous to record one by one.

Later, Song Xuanbai reached Nancheng County in Fuzhou, where he ascended to Heaven in broad daylight.

He Zizhen’s origins were unknown. He was a Daoist who lived on Mount Song. Gifted in letters, he conducted himself with lofty elegance and spent year after year diligently burning incense and cultivating the Dao. Young people did not know how old he was, while Daoists and laypeople alike said they had seen him many years before and thought nothing of it.

One day, the sky filled with cloud cranes, and clear, ethereal music rang out. He Zizhen suddenly rose into the air and ascended. At the time, the recluse Chen Tao was in the Eastern Capital. Seeing the people of Luoyang gazing upward, bowing in reverence, and marveling, he composed this poem:

“Prince Jin of the Jin dynasty rode a luan bird across the ancient city by the Luo River. Now the golden peaches have ripened once more, and Lord He too has become an immortal. The Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the three highest deities revered in Daoism, sound celestial music that carries beneath Mount Song; five-colored auspicious clouds gather before the imperial gardens. Red-crested cranes fly low to welcome the vermilion celestial banner; blue-robed immortals sing to one another, bringing their splendid, fragrant carriage to a halt. Who would grieve and weep for him in broad daylight? The years of Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate, the root of the cosmos or its highest state) stretch on for ten thousand years.”

The Old Medicine Seller

The old medicine seller’s true name was unknown. When people asked him, he would say, “This is my real name.” Some had seen him as children and, on meeting him again in old age, found that his appearance had not changed.

He often carried a large gourd and sold medicine. When people came seeking medicine and spoke of their ailments, he gave it to them whether or not they paid, and the medicine was always said to work wondrously. But if someone had no illness and asked for medicine merely out of curiosity, they would invariably lose it after receiving it. So people dared not ask for medicine lightly and revered him as they would a deity.

He often got drunk and collapsed in the city, and he gave the money he received to the poor. Sometimes people jokingly asked him, “Do you have a Great Reversion Elixir (a fabled Daoist elixir of immortality) for sale?” He replied, “Yes. One thousand strings of cash for a single pill.” Everyone laughed at him as a madman. He often walked through the city, laughing at and scolding people: “You have money but won’t buy medicine. Once you’ve eaten it all, you’ll become a mound of dirt.” People did not understand what he meant, and only laughed harder.

Later, while selling medicine in Chang’an, he shook his gourd and found it empty, with only one pill left inside. The pill was enormous and shone with light. He placed it in his palm and said to the crowd, “I have sold medicine in the human world for a hundred years and met countless people, yet not one was willing to pay for medicine and take it. It is truly sad. Now I must take the medicine myself.” As soon as the pill entered his mouth, five-colored auspicious clouds formed beneath his feet. Wind rose and clouds surged, and he drifted serenely upward and ascended.

Feng Qushe was from Longqiu in Quzhou, and his family was well off. He once sold medicine among ordinary people and met countless people, yet not one was willing to spend money to buy and take the medicine. He deeply regretted this. Later, he thought that perhaps he should take the medicine himself. As soon as it entered his mouth, five-colored clouds formed beneath his feet, and a wind rose with them. He drifted up into the sky and departed.

Feng Qushe entered the Dao from childhood. He traveled widely to study, learned Daoist arts, and devoted himself to arduous cultivation, often forgetting his fatigue. In his thirties, he lived at Anhe Monastery in Songyang County, Chuzhou. This was the home of Ye Jingneng and the place where he had cultivated the Dao. Five li north of Anhe Monastery stood Maoshan, more than fifty zhang high. Tradition held that Zhang, the Celestial Master of the Han dynasty, and Ye Jingneng had both cultivated the Dao on this mountain. Admiring the deeds of these predecessors, Feng Qushe climbed Maoshan, built a thatched hut, and settled there.

Later, Daoists from Anhe Monastery and residents from the foot of the mountain joined together to build him a house and halls. They enshrined portraits of Lord Lao, the Celestial Master Zhang, and Ye Jingneng, and burned incense and practiced and bowed before them each morning and evening. To the southeast of the mountain was a natural stone platform, more than two zhang wide and as smooth as a whetstone. Feng Qushe often sat upon it in silence, gathering his spirit.

One day, he met a divine being, who told him, “The Celestial Master Zhang had two swords for slaying evil and a bottle of elixir. They are hidden beneath this stone and can be retrieved.” Feng Qushe replied in thanks, “This stone was formed by nature; no human strength can move it. I know that my cultivation is shallow, and I only wish to preserve the true and cultivate the Dao. I have already received the protection of the divine beings by sheltering in these mountains. How could I presume to take the swords and elixir?” The divine being said, “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 him the swords and elixir. The sword was the Celestial Master Zhang’s Seven-Star Sword. The elixir was in a bottle inside a stone casket. When poured out, it amounted to more than a dou; the grains were the size of hemp seeds, red and brightly gleaming. Feng Qushe took some himself and also gave it to the sick, who all recovered after taking it.

At the time, Hua Zao, a man from Lishui County, took advantage of the warfare and famine during the Zhonghe era to gather local people and occupy a defensible stronghold. The commander of eastern Zhejiang reported the matter to the court. As the court discussed how to quell the conflict, it appointed Hua Zao as governor. Hua Zao was cruel by nature. When he heard that Feng Qushe had obtained the sword and elixir, he imprisoned him in an empty house. In the height of summer, Hua Zao kept him without food or drink for a full month, assuming he was dead. When the doors were finally opened, however, Feng Qushe looked calm, and his face was fairer and more radiant than when he had been locked inside. Greatly astonished, Hua Zao sent him back to the mountain but kept the sword and elixir. That night, amid the sound of wind and thunder, the sword and elixir flew and rang out before vanishing. Heeding the immortals’ warning, Feng Qushe put them back beneath the stone.

After this, Feng Qushe lived in the mountain for fifteen years. He often said that he had seen dragons and tigers, as well as strange birds, appearing in the courtyard with his own eyes. Daoists from Anhe Monastery often stayed on the mountaintop. When they saw the footprints of dragons, tigers, and birds, they were amazed. Feng Qushe went for many years without eating. Anyone who accidentally violated a taboo on the mountain would be troubled by fierce beasts in spring or winter, or bitten by venomous snakes in summer or autumn.

Feng Qushe also said that during thunderstorms he often saw dragons bringing rain along the mountainside. He had also seen the Lord of Thunder, the Mother of Lightning, and many ghosts and spirits. At times they came up the mountain to meet him and treated him with great respect. When Daoists spent the night on the mountain, they often heard Feng Qushe talking with someone in his quiet chamber throughout the night. After daybreak, they would peer in secretly and see only a room filled with strange fragrance, accompanied by the sound of jade pendants striking one another. Feng Qushe sat upright inside, facing four men and women seated opposite him. They wore distant-traveler crowns and crimson robes; their hair was arranged in coiled buns or hung long, and they wore a light blue-green gauze covering. Their attendants were all jade boys and jade girls, whose radiance shone around them, and a divine being stood nearby. The Daoists did not dare disturb them. Only after returning to the monastery did they tell others what they had seen as a marvel.

Fifteen years later, Feng Qushe told the Daoists, “I fear I will soon leave this mountain and will not be able to see you often again.” One day, colored clouds surrounded the peak, and the music of luan birds and immortal cranes rang through the sky as they circled overhead. A procession of carriages, banners, and divine officers arrived to welcome him, riding dragons and deer and mounted on luan birds and phoenixes. Feng Qushe then rose into the sky and departed. Many monks and laypeople at the foot of the mountain watched from a distance. Later, a wildfire destroyed his dwelling, but traces of his spiritual presence remained. To this day, Daoists still perform Zhaijiao (purification rituals) there.

Xie Ziran was from Huayang in Shu and was known as the Perfected Woman. She entered the Dao when she was young. Her master showed her the Immortal Scripture of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, a Daoist classic. After reading it once, she felt she had read its contents before; after reading it a second time, she could recite it from memory and never forgot it for the rest of her life.

As an adult, Xie Ziran had a clear, composed manner and spoke with uncommon grace. She was skilled at playing the zither and writing, and she also composed literary works. She often thought little of Zhuo Wenjun’s character. She regularly burned incense, cultivated herself, and offered prayers, admiring the conduct of the Queen Mother of the West, Magu, and Lady Wei of Mount Heng.

At forty, she set out on a long journey, visiting Mount Qingcheng, Mount Damianshan, Mount Emei, and other places. She sought out thirty-six Daoist retreats and twenty-four Daoist administrative centers. Later, she left Shu, passed through the capital and Luoyang, and traveled to the Huai River region. She went to great lengths to visit every renowned mountain, grotto, and site associated with supernatural events.

When she heard that the Daoist Sima Chengzhen lived on Jade-Mist Peak on Mount Tiantai, where he cultivated the Dao with lofty, austere devotion, she went to see him and became his disciple. After following Sima for three years, she left his household and lived alone in the mountain wilderness. Each day she gathered firewood and cooked for her master. When she returned, she brought incense and fruit and earnestly asked him to teach her the Dao.

Sima Chengzhen was astonished by her perseverance and hardship. “I have no real cultivation of De,” he said. “Why do you serve me this way?” Xie Ziran replied, “I have come a long way because I hope to receive from you the Dao that frees one from the ordinary world and delivers one from its bounds. I seek to receive the highest teaching and have no other purpose.” Sima worried that female Daoists had few opportunities to receive the highest teachings, and that transmitting them carelessly might profane the Great Dao. So he gave only an evasive reply.

More than a year later, Xie Ziran sighed, “The enlightened master has never accepted me. Could this be my fate?” She often climbed Jade-Mist Peak and gazed toward the vast sea and Penglai, feeling that Penglai seemed not far away. Yet she feared there might be no other worthy master left to visit in the human world. She therefore took leave of Sima Chengzhen, saying she intended to go to Penglai.

She gave up all her possessions, put on plain cloth garments, and stopped eating. Carrying only a mat, she plunged into the sea and drifted with the waves. A Silla ship—a vessel from an ancient kingdom on the Korean Peninsula—happened to pass by, and its crew took her aboard. A few days into the voyage, she saw that the seawater was green. At sunset, distant waves crashed together like dark flames reaching the sky, and the ship sailed through their glow.

More than a year later, the wind carried the ship into a stretch of water where the sea changed in succession: black as ink, white as powder, red as cinnabar, and yellow as sulfur. The wind suddenly shifted, and the ship entered a bay. A mountain there shone golden in the sunlight, its plants and trees gave off a fragrance, and its beasts and birds were all yellow. When the crew climbed the mountain, they discovered that every stone, large and small, was sulfur. The merchants hurriedly threw away their other cargo and loaded the stones instead.

As the ship passed through each stretch of differently colored water, the crew prayed and gave thanks three times at every one. For five days and nights, the wind drove the ship in an unknown direction, and no one could tell how far it had gone. After sailing for more than a month, a crosswind drove the ship off course again, and the crew grew very anxious.

In the distance, they saw a great mountain rise from the sea, with more than a thousand red flags standing on it. The ship’s navigator, an experienced seafarer, said it was the raised fin on a whale’s back. In clear weather, they also saw a column of vapor shoot more than a hundred li into the sky, surrounded by what looked like a storm. The navigator said that the whale had an opening in its head, and that its breath burst out through it whenever it breathed.

After that, they saw all kinds of strange sights in the sea, including monsters and spirits. Xie Ziran burned incense and prayed, keeping Penglai in her thoughts. Before long, the ship reached the side of a mountain. Its woods, flowers, birds, and drifting mist all looked like a spring landscape. The navigator climbed the mountain to look around and found rows of houses and many residents. Xie Ziran asked, “Could this be an immortal mountain?”

The navigator said the crew could go ashore to rest and wait for a favorable wind. While the others walked on the mountain, Xie Ziran went off alone and saw several Daoists, attended by servants dressed in blue. The wind moved through the trees with a sound like metal and stone striking one another, and the fragrance of the flowers and plants filled the heart. In the courtyard, phoenixes, white cranes, blue pheasants, and brightly colored dogs wandered about.

One of the Daoists wore a flowered crown and a rosy cape, and had a dignified, beautiful appearance. A blue-clad attendant led Xie Ziran inside, where she offered her respectful greetings. The Daoist asked where she was going. Xie Ziran replied, “I want to seek an immortal master at Penglai and obtain the way to transcend the world.” The Daoist smiled and said, “Penglai lies beyond the Weak Waters, a region said to be difficult to cross, and is three hundred thousand li from here. Ordinary ships cannot reach it; only flying immortals can go there. Sima Chengzhen of Mount Tiantai is listed in the registers of the Cinnabar Terrace and lives at Redwall. He is the true master. You can return and become his disciple.”

Soon the wind rose. The navigator urged everyone to board, saying the wind was favorable. Once the ship had set sail, a crosswind drove it for three days, and it ended up back on the coast of Taizhou. Xie Ziran gladly returned to Mount Tiantai, told Sima Chengzhen everything that had happened, and apologized for leaving earlier. Sima said, “When I have chosen an auspicious day, I will establish an altar and confer the transmission on you.” He then transmitted to her the Shangqing teachings, the methods of the Highest Clarity school.

Later, Xie Ziran returned to Shu. During the Zhenyuan era of Emperor Dezong of the Tang, she ascended to heaven in broad daylight. The military governor Wei Gao reported the event to the court.

Pei Shi, whose Daoist name was Xuanjing, was the daughter of Pei Sheng, the magistrate of Goushi County, and the wife of Li Yan, a county lieutenant in Hu County. From childhood, she was clever and quick-witted. Her mother taught her to read poetry and the classics, and once she had read something, she could recite it from memory and never forget it. When she reached the age of fifteen, she learned needlework and the adornment of her appearance, as custom required of women. But inwardly she was unlike others, and deeply longed to study Daoist teachings. She asked her parents to let her live in a quiet room and practice the Dao. They, too, revered Daoism, and agreed. Every day she burned incense and bowed before images of the Dao, accompanied by a maidservant. Yet whenever the maidservant went out, Xuanjing stayed alone. At times, it seemed that female companions had come to visit her, but when her parents went to look, there was no one to be seen. They questioned her, but she never told them what had happened. Her heart was pure and free of worldly attachment. Even with her family, she was always respectful and courteous, never careless or ill-mannered.

When she was twenty, her parents planned for her to marry Li Yan. She was deeply reluctant when she heard this, intent only on leaving home to cultivate the Dao and seek transcendence. Her parents urged her, saying, “When a woman comes of age, she should have a settled place in life; this is the proper order. A marriage should not be missed, and the proper order should not be defied. If you enter the Dao and cultivate, you will have no settled place in life. Even Lady Wei of Mount Heng, the Daoist immortal of legend, once married and had children before becoming a High Immortal.” So her parents insisted that she marry Li Yan.

After the wedding, she fulfilled all the duties expected of a wife. But before a month had passed, she told Li Yan that she had long cultivated the Dao, and that the divine beings did not permit her to be his wife. She asked to leave the world and devote herself entirely to cultivation. Li Yan, too, had long admired the Dao, and he felt that what she told him was extraordinary. After that, he burned incense and cultivated alone in a quiet room. One night, he heard laughter and conversation inside. Suspicious but afraid to disturb them, he peered through a crack in the wall. He saw the room filled with light and fragrant with an unusual scent. Inside were two young women, about seventeen or eighteen years old, with their hair arranged in phoenix-shaped coiffures and dressed in colorful robes. Their bearing was graceful and lovely. Several maids stood beside them, their hair arranged in cloud-shaped coiffures and their bodies clad in light silk. Xuanjing was speaking with them.

Li Yan thought the scene astonishing and withdrew. The next morning, he asked Xuanjing whether anyone had visited the previous night. She replied, “They were immortal companions from the Kunlun realm, who had come to see me. The High Immortal already knew you were watching and used a spell to obscure your sight, though you did not realize it. They will come again. Do not spy on them another time, or you may be punished by the spiritual officials who keep watch over the order of Heaven.”

Xuanjing added, “Our bond in the human world is shallow, and I cannot remain here for long. But since you have no children, when the High Immortal comes again, I will ask on your behalf.” Later, one night, a heavenly maiden descended to Li Yan’s residence. A year later, she came again and gave Li Yan a child, saying, “This is your son. Xuanjing will soon depart.”

Three days later, five-colored clouds swirled upward. As immortal maidens played music, a white phoenix carried Xuanjing into the sky and flew northwest.

Lady Qi, whose Daoist name was Xiaoyao, was from Nangong in Jizhou. Her father supported the family by teaching. From the age of ten, Xiaoyao was quiet and reserved, with little interest in play. She longed to cultivate the Dao, and her parents knew it. She often did good deeds in secret. Her father gave her the Admonitions for Women to read. Afterward, she said, “These are simply the things ordinary people ought to do.” Then she took up the Immortals’ Scripture of Laozi and recited it again and again without pause.

When she reached marriageable age, matchmakers who heard that she was devoted to the Dao considered it an ill omen. When she was twenty, her parents nevertheless married her to a fellow townsman, Ji Xun. His family lived by farming and weaving. Her parents-in-law were strict and harsh, and scolded her for neglecting sericulture and farm work. Morning and evening, Xiaoyao focused only on purification and cultivation of body and mind, paying no attention to household affairs. Ji Xun also rebuked her many times. Xiaoyao asked her parents-in-law to let her leave and return to her parents’ home, but her parents too urged her to go back to her husband’s family. She then explained that she could not manage ordinary household duties and hoped to cultivate the Dao alone in a quiet room, as a way of repaying her parents-in-law. Ji Xun and her parents were all doubtful, so they settled her in a room.

Xiaoyao sustained herself only on fragrant water, used for cultivation or purification, and ate no food. She stilled her mind, held an inner vision, and sang: “I smile as the vast sea is about to turn to dust, and bid farewell to the assembled Perfected Ones before the flowers of the Queen Mother of the West. A thousand years from now I shall return to Heaven; with all my heart, I cherish the people of this world.”

Ji Xun’s family and their neighbors all took her for a strange, deranged woman. At night, they heard someone speaking in her room; at dawn, they saw her sitting alone and thought nothing of it. Three days later, at daybreak, the whole family suddenly heard a thunderous crack, as if the roof were splitting open. They saw only the clothes and shoes she had worn left in the room. Looking up, they saw clouds, rosy mists, and radiant light filling the sky. Luan birds and immortal cranes flew and called out. Celestial music sounded, and a procession of fragrant carriages and ceremonial attendants stretched across the air. Xiaoyao was among the immortals in the clouds, and people heard them clearly bidding one another farewell. Ji Xun hurried to tell Xiaoyao’s parents, who arrived while the scene was still visible. People from the city also rushed to watch, and all were astonished.

Sun Simiao was from Huayuan in the Jingzhao region. He entered school at the age of seven and could recite more than a thousand characters each day. As he grew older, he spoke widely about the teachings of the Zhuangzi, the Laozi, and the various schools of thought. During the reign of Emperor Xuan of Northern Zhou, when the court was beset by turmoil, he withdrew to Mount Taibai to study the Dao, refine Qi, and cultivate his body, seeking ways to transcend worldly life and extend his years.

He was well versed in astronomy and calendrical science, and studied medicine in depth. He was skilled at reading people’s voices and complexion, and was kind by nature. In his daily life, he was always mindful of accumulating virtue and doing good, cultivating body and mind, and making the relief of others his life’s work.

Once, while traveling, Sun Simiao saw someone about to kill a wounded little green snake that was bleeding. He took off his clothes as payment and rescued the snake. After treating its wound with medicine, he released it into the grass. A little over a month later, he went out again and met a young man dressed in white, attended by an impressive retinue and carriage. The young man dismounted and bowed to him, saying that his parents wished to meet the man who had saved his life, and earnestly asking Sun Simiao to come with him. The young man gave him another horse to ride, and they quickly arrived at a city. There, flowers and trees flourished beneath the bright spring sky. The buildings and gates were splendid, and many people filled the place; it looked like the residence of a king.

The young man led Sun Simiao inside. There he saw a man of handsome, refined appearance, wearing a white cap and deep red clothing, with many attendants around him. The man greeted Sun Simiao joyfully and thanked him for saving his son. He explained that his son had been injured while away from home, and that he had survived only because Sun Simiao had paid for him with his clothes and treated his wound. All the relatives here were grateful for the gift of his life, he said, and felt deeply honored to meet Sun Simiao.

The man then invited Sun Simiao farther inside. A middle-aged woman came out leading a child dressed in blue. They repeatedly bowed in thanks, saying that the child was foolish and had once been injured by someone, and that he owed his rescue to Sun Simiao. Sun Simiao remembered saving the green snake and wondered in astonishment where he was. He noticed that all the attendants were eunuchs, and that the palace women called the man in the cap “the ruler” and the woman “the consort.” He quietly asked someone beside him and learned that this was the Water Palace of Jingyang, the legendary home of the water deity.

The ruler ordered food and wine to be served and arranged music and dancing to welcome Sun Simiao. Sun Simiao declined the food, explaining that he practiced fasting and nourishing the breath—reducing or avoiding food through cultivation while regulating his breathing—and drank only wine. After he had stayed for three days, the ruler of the Water Palace asked what he wanted. Sun Simiao replied that he liked living in the mountains to cultivate the Dao and nourish his spirit. Though his eyes could see many things, he said, his heart held no desire for them. The ruler offered him fine, light silk, pearls, and gold, but Sun Simiao firmly refused, saying that one who cultivates the Dao does not set their heart on such things.

The ruler asked how he might repay him, then ordered his son to bring thirty medicinal prescriptions issued by the Dragon Palace. He gave them to Sun Simiao, saying that true cultivators of the Dao could use them to help the world and save lives. He then had a carriage and horses prepared to take Sun Simiao back to the mountain. Deeply astonished, Sun Simiao tried the prescriptions one by one and found them all remarkably effective. Later, he compiled thirty volumes of the Qianjin Fang (Prescriptions Worth a Thousand Gold), including some of the Dragon Palace remedies. He also diagnosed illnesses by observing people’s voices and complexions, and wrote one volume of the Mai Jing (Classic of the Pulse). These works became widely known.

When Emperor Wen of Sui was governing on behalf of the throne, he summoned Sun Simiao to serve as a professor at the Imperial Academy, but Sun Simiao declined. He once told someone, “In fifty years, a sage will appear, and I will help him bring relief to the people.” Emperor Taizong of Tang summoned him to the capital. Seeing how youthful he looked, the emperor exclaimed, “Now I know that those who possess the Dao truly deserve our respect. Stories of people like Xianmenzi, the immortal, are no mere invention.” Taizong wanted to appoint him to office, but Sun Simiao firmly refused.

In the early years of Emperor Gaozong’s reign, Sun Simiao was again summoned, this time to serve as an Admonition Counselor, but he steadfastly declined. By then he was over ninety, yet his eyesight and hearing remained unimpaired. Lu Zhaolin, a distinguished man from Fanyang, was gravely ill. Reflecting that people are endowed differently and have different fates, he asked Sun Simiao to explain how renowned physicians treat illness.

Sun Simiao replied, “I have heard that those who speak well of the Way of Heaven must seek proof in human affairs, while those who speak well of human beings must take the Way of Heaven as their foundation. Heaven has its four seasons and Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water); cold and heat alternate. When their movements are harmonious, rain forms; when they move violently, wind arises. When they congeal, they become frost and snow; when their breath expands, they form rainbows. These are the regular workings of Heaven and Earth. Human beings have four limbs and five organs; they wake and sleep, breathe in and out, and their vital essences circulate. When these nourish the body, they form the Rong and Wei energies—the vital energies that circulate within and protect the body. When they show on the surface, they become complexion; when they emerge as sound, they become the voice. These, too, are the regular workings of human beings. Yang energy expresses its vital functions, while Yin energy forms the body. In these respects, human beings and Heaven are alike.

“When the body’s workings become disordered, accumulated heat produces febrile illness, and obstructed circulation produces cold illness. When Qi and blood congeal, growths appear; when they sink into the flesh, they form swellings and abscesses. When the breath becomes hurried, one gasps and grows weak; when vital essence is exhausted, the body becomes dry and withered. Illness appears in the face and alters the body’s form. By extension, Heaven and Earth have similar conditions: when the five planets move irregularly, the stars lose their proper courses, the sun and moon deviate, and comets sweep across the sky, these are grave illnesses of Heaven and Earth. Untimely cold and heat mean that their workings are out of balance. Protruding rocks and strangely growing trees are their growths; collapsing mountains and sunken ground are their swellings and abscesses. Violent winds and rainstorms are their labored breathing; rain that fails to fall in season and rivers that run dry are their withering. A good physician treats illness with medicines and stones, and uses acupuncture and moxibustion to heal. A sage brings harmony to Heaven and Earth through the Dao and Virtue, while also attending to human affairs. Thus, human illnesses may be cured, and disasters in Heaven and Earth may also be brought to an end.”

He continued, “One must be bold in resolve and careful in thought; one’s judgment must be flexible and one’s conduct upright. The Classic of Poetry says, ‘As if approaching a deep abyss, as if treading on thin ice.’ This speaks of caution and care. It also says, ‘Valiant and stalwart warriors are the shield and wall of lords and princes.’ This speaks of boldness. To remain unmoved by profit and free from the unease of acting against what is right is to have upright conduct. To recognize the moment for action and act decisively, without waiting until the last moment, is to have flexible judgment.”

Sun Simiao’s learning was exceptional, and his skills, including medicine, were too numerous to count. Later, Emperor Gaozong issued another decree appointing him Gentleman for Attending to Affairs and assigning him to the Imperial Pharmacy Bureau, but Sun Simiao again declined to take up the post.

At dawn on the fifteenth day of the second month of the third year of Yonghui, Sun Simiao rose, bathed, and dressed neatly. Sitting upright, he said to his children and grandchildren, “I have been driven by the world to withdraw and cultivate in a grotto. Now I am about to ascend to the land of No-Where, the legendary realm of the immortals. I hold office in the Golden Palace in Heaven and cannot respond to summonses; from now on, my visits to the human world will only be temporary.” After he had spoken, his breath stopped. He left instructions for a simple burial, without grave goods or animal sacrifices. More than a month later, his complexion had still not changed. When his body was placed in the coffin, it was as light as though only an empty robe remained. It is said that he had undergone corpse liberation, the Daoist transformation in which one sheds the body and departs as an immortal.

Zhang Guo lived in seclusion around Tiaoshan in Hengzhou and often traveled between Fenzhou and Jinzhou. People of the time said he possessed the secret arts of long life. An old man claimed that he had seen Zhang Guo as a child, when Zhang Guo had already said he was several hundred years old.

Emperor Taizong and Emperor Gaozong of the Tang summoned him repeatedly, but he did not answer their calls. When Empress Wu Zetian sent someone to summon him from the mountains, he feigned death in front of the Temple of the Jealous Woman. It was midsummer, and his body soon rotted and filled with maggots, so Wu Zetian believed he was dead. Later, however, someone saw him in the mountains of Hengzhou.

In the twenty-third year of the Kaiyuan era, Emperor Xuanzong sent Pei Wu, a court official responsible for conveying imperial commands, galloping to Hengzhou to bring Zhang Guo to court. When Zhang Guo saw Pei Wu, he suddenly stopped breathing and appeared to die. Pei Wu burned incense and prayed, conveying the emperor’s wish to seek the Dao. Before long, Zhang Guo gradually revived. Pei Wu did not dare press him to hurry and returned to report what had happened. Emperor Xuanzong then sent the Secretariat Drafter Xu Qiao and the court official Lu Chongxuan with an imperial edict to invite him again. Zhang Guo accompanied Xu Qiao to the Eastern Capital, where he was lodged at the Jixian Institute. He was carried into the palace in a sedan chair and received with great courtesy.

The high ministers all came to pay their respects. When people asked him about the world beyond the ordinary, Zhang Guo always answered in strange, unfathomable words. He often said that he had been born in the bingzi year during the reign of Emperor Yao, but no one could determine his origins. He also claimed that during Yao’s reign he had served as a Palace Attendant and had mastered fetal breathing, a Daoist method of regulating the breath to cultivate Qi. He could go many days without eating. Ordinarily, however, he drank fine wine and took the Three-Yellow Pill, a Daoist elixir.

Emperor Xuanzong kept him in the palace and offered him wine. Zhang Guo declined, saying, “A mountain recluse drinks no more than two sheng, but I have a disciple who can drink a dou.” Delighted, the emperor ordered the disciple to be summoned. Soon, a young Daoist of sixteen or seventeen dropped down from the eaves of the hall. He was handsome, graceful in manner, clear in speech, and unfailingly polite. The emperor invited him to sit, but Zhang Guo said, “My disciple usually stands beside me. He should not be given a seat.” The emperor was even more pleased and offered the young Daoist wine. He drank a dou without becoming drunk.

Zhang Guo said, “He should not be given any more. If he drinks too much, something may go wrong, leaving Your Majesty with nothing to do but laugh.” The emperor insisted on offering more wine. Suddenly, wine gushed from the top of the young Daoist’s head. His hat fell to the ground and turned into a wine vessel. The emperor and his consorts watched, laughing in amazement. On the ground was a golden vessel. When they opened it, they found a dou of wine inside. On inspection, it proved to be the very wine vessel from the Jixian Institute.

Zhang Guo performed many more immortal arts, too numerous to recount one by one. Emperor Xuanzong then issued an edict: “Master Zhang Guo of Hengzhou is one who wanders beyond the world of ordinary life. His conduct is lofty and free of worldly concerns, and his inner nature is profound and mysterious. He has answered the summons and come to the capital, yet no one knows his age. He seems to be an ancient man from before Fuxi; when he speaks of the essentials of the Dao, his words accord with its mysterious foundation.” The emperor appointed him Grand Master of Silver and Green Brilliance and bestowed on him the title “Master Who Penetrates the Mystery.”

Zhang Guo said that he was old and often ill, and asked to return to Hengzhou. The emperor gave him three hundred bolts of silk, assigned two disciples to accompany him, and provided a post carriage to take him back. One of his disciples went with him into the mountains. In the early years of the Tianbao era, Emperor Xuanzong again sent an envoy with a special edict to summon him. When the envoy arrived, Zhang Guo suddenly died. His disciple buried him, but when the tomb was opened later, the coffin was empty.

Xu Xuanping was from She County in Xin’an. During the Jingyun era of Emperor Ruizong, he withdrew to a mountain hollow south of Chengyang Mountain and built a thatched hut to live in. No one knew what elixirs he had taken. People only saw that he never ate, yet looked about forty years old, and walked as swiftly as a galloping horse. At times he carried firewood down to sell, usually with a flower-shaped gourd and a crooked bamboo staff. When he returned home in a drunken haze, he would sing alone:

“In the morning I shoulder firewood and go out to sell; at sunset I buy wine and make my way home. Passersby, do not ask where I am bound: I pass through the white clouds and enter the green mountains.”

He lived this way for more than thirty years. Sometimes he helped people in dire straits; at other times he treated the sick. People from the town often went looking for him, but never found him. They would see only the poems he had written on the walls of his thatched hut:

“Thirty years in seclusion, I built my dwelling atop the southern mountain. In the quiet night I admire the bright moon; at dawn I leisurely drink from the clear spring. Woodcutters sing along the field paths, while birds in the valley play before the cliffs. How pleasant these days are—I have forgotten that I am old, and forgotten the passing of time.”

Many people loved this poem. Those traveling to Chang’an often copied it onto the walls of relay stations and inns. During the Tianbao era, Li Bai left the Hanlin Academy and traveled east. At an inn, he read the poem and, after reciting it, exclaimed, “This must be a poem by an immortal!” He asked around, learned of Xu Xuanping, and traveled through Xin’an, crossing streams and climbing mountains as he searched for him again and again, but never found him. Li Bai then wrote a poem on the wall of Xu Xuanping’s thatched hut:

“I recited the poem at the inn and came to visit the dwelling of a Perfected One. Misty ridges conceal the traces of the lofty sage; cloud-shrouded cliffs divide him from the mortal world. I peer into the courtyard and see only stillness; leaning on my staff, I wander in vain. Perhaps you have become a crane, flying into the distant sky, and will return only after a thousand years.”

That winter, a wildfire destroyed the thatched hut, and Xu Xuanping’s whereabouts were unknown from then on.

More than a hundred years later, in the seventh year of the Xiantong era, an elderly woman from the household of Xu Mingnu in the prefecture often went into the mountains with companions to gather firewood. One day, alone in the southern mountains, she saw a man sitting on a rock and eating a very large peach. He asked her, “Are you from Xu Mingnu’s household? I am Mingnu’s ancestor, Xuanping.” The old woman said that her family had always heard he had become an immortal long ago. Xu Xuanping replied, “Go back and tell Mingnu that I am here in these mountains.” He gave her a peach to eat and warned her not to take it out of the mountains, because there were many tigers and wolves there, and the mountain god cherished the peach.

The old woman ate the peach and found it exceptionally delicious. Xu Xuanping told her to follow the woodcutters home. She told the Xu Mingnu family what she had seen and heard. The family found it most extraordinary, and word spread to the prefecture. After that, the old woman gradually grew younger. Her face became like a child’s, and her body grew light and strong, surpassing its former vigor. From the Zhonghe era onward, warfare and famine followed one after another, leaving the residents in distress. The Xu Mingnu family moved away to escape the turmoil. The old woman later went into the mountains and did not return. Even now, those who gather firewood in the mountains sometimes say they have seen her dressed in a garment of vines, moving as swiftly as a flying bird. When people chase after her, she leaps into the depths of the woods and disappears.

Liu Shang was a native of Pengcheng who lived in Chang’an. As a young man, he loved reading, had a powerful memory, thought deeply, and was skilled at writing. His composition “Eighteen Songs of a Nomad Flute” circulated widely, and even children and women could recite it from memory. He later passed the jinshi examination and served as a lang official in the central government. He had long been devoted to Daoist arts. Whenever he met a Daoist, he would take him as his teacher, and he practiced diligently such methods as alchemical refining and breath cultivation.

Liu Shang often lamented that life was brief and that his body was gradually growing old. Rushing about from morning to night only wore him down. What benefit could he gain from a glittering reputation and a worldly office? The worthy men of antiquity often used official service as an opportunity to seek the Great Dao, and many thereby transcended the mundane world. Now that he had completed his marriage obligations and was no longer burdened by worldly affairs, surely he was no less able than Xu Yuanyou. So he pleaded illness and resigned from office, entering the Dao to cultivate himself, and set out on a journey east.

When he reached Guangling, he saw a Daoist selling medicine in the city’s marketplace, surrounded by a crowd. People said the medicine he sold was highly effective. The Daoist spotted Liu Shang among the onlookers and studied him, seeming greatly surprised. He stopped selling medicine, took Liu Shang by the hand, and led him up to a tavern, where he urged him to drink. The Daoist spoke of events from the Qin and Han dynasties onward as if he had witnessed them himself. Liu Shang was astonished and respectfully bowed to him as his teacher. The Daoist then spoke of the Way of the Immortals, saying it was not something one could obtain easily.

At dusk, as Liu Shang returned to his lodging, the Daoist escorted him downstairs and then suddenly vanished. Liu Shang was even more amazed. The next day, he went back to the marketplace to look for the Daoist and found him still selling medicine. The Daoist was delighted to see him, took him up to the tavern again, and talked with him until they were both thoroughly drunk. When they parted, the Daoist gave him a small medicine pouch and recited with a smile: “With nothing to do, come to Yangzhou; together we’ll climb to the tavern. A medicine pouch to mark our parting—what more could one seek in a thousand years?” Liu Shang committed the poem to memory and then parted from the Daoist. He searched for him many times afterward, but never saw him again.

Liu Shang opened the medicine pouch and found paper wrapped around it in layer after layer. Inside the paper was a small gourd containing nine pills, each about the size of a sesame seed or a grain of millet. He took them according to the Daoist’s instructions and immediately felt clear and refreshed, no longer hungry; his body felt light and his mind lucid.

Later, Liu Shang crossed the river to visit Maoshan. After some time, he went on to Zhanggong Cave in Yixing. He loved the spring scenery at Yanhua Creek and built a dwelling at Hufu Islet, where he lived in seclusion in the mountains. Woodcutters nearby once saw him, and he introduced himself as “Liu the Gentleman of the Court,” but no one knew where he lived afterward. It is said that he had become an earthly immortal.

Liu Fang (“Fang” is pronounced qian; his childhood name was Yige) was Liu Zhan’s elder brother. His family was poor, but he was fond of Daoist arts. One day, a Daoist priest passed by his home and saw that Liu Fang was unusual. He asked whether Liu Fang knew the Daoist teachings. Liu Fang replied, “I know a little, but my temperament is still weighed down by worldly concerns, and my ties to the mundane world are not yet severed. I fear this is not the right time to force myself to study the Dao.” The priest asked whether he would be willing to take him as his teacher. Liu Fang said, “How could I refuse?” and became his disciple.

The priest ordered Liu Fang to live in seclusion in the mountains and cultivate the Dao, without requiring him to wear a headscarf or cap. Liu Fang kept his hair in a child’s topknot, wore plain cloth clothes, and followed the priest into Mount Luofu, a sacred Daoist mountain in present-day Guangdong. Liu Fang and Liu Zhan both studied and wrote, but Liu Fang by nature prized lofty ideals, while Liu Zhan aspired to fame and an official career.

Liu Fang once told Liu Zhan, “If I fail the examinations, I will withdraw to the wilderness. If you pass, you will be burdened with worldly affairs, and in the end you will never catch up with me. Still, take care with wealth and rank: what I say will come to pass in forty years.” Liu Zhan replied, “The path of the immortals is distant and hard to find. Did the First Emperor of Qin and Emperor Wu of Han not pursue it wholeheartedly? A position at court is close at hand, and talents like Ma Zhou and Zhang Jiazhen can be followed by later generations.” After that, Liu Fang devoted himself even more fully to cultivating the Dao and lived in seclusion on Mount Luofu.

Liu Zhan passed the jinshi examination and later held several high-ranking posts. He rose to become a chief minister assisting the ruler, earning a reputation for harmonizing affairs of state and governing the country. Before long, he was demoted and sent south. While passing through Guangzhou, as his boat lay moored by the river, a young man with a child’s topknot and wearing plain cloth clothes suddenly came hurrying through the downpour. Yet his clothes and shoes were not wet. Everyone was astonished. The young man said only, “Yige has come.” Liu Zhan asked what he looked like, and those around him described him truthfully. Liu Zhan was amazed and welcomed him aboard to meet him.

Liu Fang looked about twenty years old, while Liu Zhan was already gray-haired, aged, and haggard, grieving over his demotion. The brothers were overcome with both joy and sorrow at their reunion. Liu Fang encouraged him: “We are brothers, bound together and concerned for one another. The words I spoke long ago—now forty years have passed.” Liu Zhan was even more moved and asked, “Can you still help me resume cultivating the Dao?” Liu Fang replied, “All your life you have enjoyed honor and favor, holding a position in which you harmonized Yin-Yang and assisted in governing the court. How could your thoughts and actions have escaped being worn down? If your elder brother had not already become a Celestial Immortal, how could I save you? I have come only to say farewell, not to rescue you.”

The two shared a boat and spent the night talking about what had happened since they parted. At dawn the next day, Liu Fang had vanished. It is said that he often appears on Mount Luofu. Liu Zhan continued south and eventually died in exile.

Luo Wanxiang’s birthplace is unknown. He was gifted in letters, well versed in astronomy, and deeply studied the Classic of Changes. His character and interests were both unusual. Traveling as a commoner, he once lived for a long time on Wangwu Mountain, then journeyed south to Mount Luofu. He remarked, “This is the Grotto-Heaven of Vermilion Light, the immortal realm of Mount Luofu, where Ge Zhichuan—Ge Hong, the Daoist of the Eastern Jin—once lived and practiced alchemy. Though no Deng Yue is here to persuade me to stay, as he once persuaded Ge Hong, I can stay here for a while.”

Luo Wanxiang loved the scenery around the Stone Tower, so he built a thatched hut at the foot of the mountain and made his home there. He often ate yellow essence, a herb commonly used in Daoist health practices, and cultivated his health through breath regulation and guided breathing. He kept this up for several decades. At times he went out to visit Zengcheng, Spring Mountain, and Cloth Waterfall, or gathered herbs at the foot of the mountain. At other times he traveled to towns around Fuzhou and Guangzhou to sell medicine and drink wine. He had no fixed itinerary.

Sometimes he could eat enough at one meal to feed more than a dozen people; at other times he went without food, and those around him could not tell how many years had passed. His complexion was radiant and his movements light. He could walk three or four hundred li in a day; even a galloping horse could not catch him if he merely quickened his pace. Later, he returned to his thatched hut at the Stone Tower and never went out again. He lived in seclusion in the mountains, and after that no one knew where he went.

Li Jue was from Jiangyang in Guangling. His family had lived in the city for generations, making their living by buying and selling grain. He was upright and cautious by nature, quite unlike most people. When he was fifteen, he went out with his father to sell grain. One day, his father left on an errand and entrusted the business to Li Jue. When a customer came to buy grain, Li Jue handed over the measuring vessel and let the customer measure out the grain himself. Whatever the market price, he charged only two coins per dou, using the profits to support his parents.

As time passed, the family’s clothing and possessions gradually became more plentiful. His father found this puzzling and asked him how it had come about. Li Jue answered truthfully. His father said, “Many people are in the same trade as we are, and none of them fails to tamper with the measures: they give less when selling and take more when buying, seeking large profits this way. The authorities inspect measuring vessels in spring and autumn, but in the end they cannot put a stop to these abuses. I have long understood this, so I have always used the same measures for buying and selling, believing I had treated everyone fairly. Now that you have taken over, you keep all the measures yourself, and even I cannot match you. Yet our household is well supplied with food and clothing. Could it be that the spirits are secretly protecting us?”

Later, Li Jue’s parents died. Even after he passed the age of eighty, he still did not change his trade. Around that time, a man named Li Jue took office as military governor of Huainan, an official who governed a region’s military and civil affairs. The governor shared his name and surname, which astonished the elderly Li Jue, so he changed his own name to Li Kuan.

A few months after the governor Li Jue took office, while he was conducting a Daoist purification retreat, he dreamed one night that he entered a grotto dwelling. Spring was in full bloom there; mist, rosy clouds, and flowering trees shone with brilliant colors, while phoenixes flew and cranes danced. Auspicious clouds and glowing mists surrounded a succession of pavilions. Walking alone among them, he saw a row of names written in gold on a gleaming stone wall. Among them were the characters “Li Jue,” each more than two feet tall. He was delighted. He thought that, born in a peaceful and enlightened age, long established in high office and now promoted to chancellor, he must have accumulated considerable merit for the people. Surely that was why his name had been entered in the grotto’s register of immortals, making him an immortal.

As he rejoiced, two attendant immortals emerged from either side of the stone wall. Li Jue asked where he was. They replied, “This is the Grotto Heaven of Huayang.” He then asked whether the name on the wall belonged to him. One attendant said, “The name of Your Excellency is not the one written here. The name on the wall belongs to a commoner from Jiangyang, under your jurisdiction.” Li Jue was astonished.

At dawn, he recalled what he had seen in the dream and marveled even more. He asked Daoist priests about it, but none knew anything. He then summoned officials from Jiangyang and questioned them, still without success. So he ordered people to search for anyone with the same name and surname in and around the prefectural city. A few days later, after asking among the neighbors, they finally found a man named Li Kuan. His original name, too, had been Li Jue.

When the governor Li Jue learned of this, he sent a carriage to bring Li Kuan to the prefectural residence. He arranged for him to stay in a quiet room, then, after fasting and bathing, bowed to him as a Daoist elder brother. The governor’s whole family paid him respectful obeisance morning and evening. Li Kuan was calm and unassuming by nature, with a refined appearance and a beard of white hairs more than a foot long, giving him a gentle and approachable air. When he was sixty, a Daoist priest had taught him embryonic breathing, a Daoist meditation practice that regulates the breath. Afterward, he also went for long periods without eating. The governor Li Jue revered him all the more.

After more than a month, the governor Li Jue asked, “Elder brother, what Daoist arts did you cultivate in your life? What medicines for refining and nourishing yourself have you taken?” He had dreamed of Li Kuan’s name on the stone wall in the Grotto Heaven of Huayang, and had heard the attendant immortals identify the man. That was why he had invited him and honored him as a teacher, hoping he would pass on the Daoist arts.

Li Kuan demurred, saying that he knew nothing of Daoist arts and had taken no medicines for cultivation. The governor Li Jue bowed again and asked what he practiced in his daily life. Li Kuan said that he was simply an honest, unsophisticated commoner who knew nothing of cultivation. He then described in full how he bought and sold grain, let customers measure it out themselves, and never used the measuring vessels to make a profit. The governor Li Jue asked him about it repeatedly, then exclaimed, “This is something ordinary people find very hard to do. The hidden merit you have accumulated far exceeds anything I could achieve.” He added, “This shows that people of wealth and status in the world may diminish their merit with every action, while those who live in poverty and low station can earn protection by sincerely doing good. Their names may even be entered in the register of immortals. This is meant to warn and instruct ordinary people.”

The governor Li Jue also asked Li Kuan how he had learned embryonic breathing and to go without food. Li Kuan told him truthfully. The governor then practiced embryonic breathing according to his method. Li Kuan lived to be more than a hundred and remained healthy and spry. One day, he suddenly told his descendants, “I have dwelt in this world for many years. Though I have continually nourished my Qi, it has brought me no particular benefit.” That evening, he died. Three days later, the coffin split open. When they looked inside, his clothes and belt were still fastened, but his body had vanished, as if he had shed his mortal form like a cicada. This is what is called “corpse liberation” (shijie), a Daoist legendary means of leaving the body behind and ascending to immortality.

Wang Kejiao was from Kunshan in Suzhou. He made his living by farming and fishing, and lived in Zhaotun Village, south of Songjiang. When he was in his thirties, no one yet knew that he had any unusual abilities. He often caught large fish and was delighted to kill them with a mallet, cook them, and eat them mixed with crushed garlic. He would often say, “There is no greater pleasure than this.”

One day, he rowed his fishing boat into the river, singing loudly as he pulled the oars. After going several miles, he suddenly saw a brightly painted pleasure boat in midstream. Aboard were seven Daoist masters, all young men of about thirty, wearing jade crowns and cloud-patterned robes, each in a different color. Nearby stood more than ten attendants, along with four men wearing yellow crowns. One of the masters called Wang Kejiao by name. As he stood there in surprise, his fishing boat drew alongside the pleasure boat. A Daoist master ordered an attendant to bring him aboard.

Wang Kejiao saw that in front of each of the seven masters was a blue-green jade plate and a wine vessel. The fruit on the plates gleamed with a crystalline sheen, but he could not identify it. More than ten female musicians held instruments in their hands. Wang Kejiao stood at the end of the banquet and bowed to each of the seven in turn. They looked him over. One said, “His bones are well formed, and he has an affinity with the immortals. But he was born into a humble, ordinary family and has already been steeped in the dust of the world.” Another said, “Give him some wine.”

An attendant poured wine into a cup, but even after several attempts, none came out. When the attendant reported this, a Daoist master said, “Wine is a spiritual substance. If it could enter his mouth, it might have transformed his bones. But now it will not pour; this too is fated.” Another said, “Give him chestnuts.” Someone at the banquet took two chestnuts and asked an attendant to give them to Wang Kejiao. They were green tinged with red, glossy as dates, and about two inches long. When he bit into one, it had a kernel inside, and the flesh was crisp and sweet, unlike ordinary chestnuts. It took him a long time to finish them.

One of the Daoist masters said, “Wang Kejiao has now seen us. He may leave.” He then ordered a man in yellow to escort him ashore. Wang Kejiao looked around the boat for his fishing vessel but could not see it. The man in yellow said, “There is no need to look for your boat. Just close your eyes, and you will arrive.” Wang Kejiao closed his eyes and heard the wind, water, and trees rush past. When the man in yellow told him to open his eyes, he was already on shore. He opened them again, and the man was gone.

He found himself sitting on a stone in the middle of a road. Around him, mountain peaks rose in layer upon layer, and pines and cypresses towered into the clouds. Before long, people came and went through a gate tower. Then more than ten woodcutters and monks arrived and asked who he was. Wang Kejiao recounted everything that had happened with the pleasure boat. They asked what day he had left home, and he said it was that very morning. They asked the date, and he replied that it was the third day of the third month. The woodcutters and monks were astonished. “It is already the ninth day of the ninth month,” they said. “More than half a year has passed since the third day of the third month.”

Wang Kejiao asked where he was. A monk told him that he was in front of Waterfall Temple on Mount Tiantai. He then asked how far it was from there to Huating, and the monk replied that the combined land and water route was more than a thousand li. Wang Kejiao was amazed. The monks invited him into the temple for a meal, but he said he was already full and did not want even to smell the food; he would drink only water.

The monks found the matter extraordinarily strange and reported it to Tangxing County, which passed the report on to Taizhou. The military governor, Wang Feng, had long been a believer in Daoism. After summoning Wang Kejiao, he judged that this was an immortal’s transformation, beyond human understanding. Wang Kejiao was more than seven feet tall, striking in appearance, and spoke clearly and fluently. Wang Feng exclaimed, “This is truly a perfected man.” Since they also shared the same surname, he treated him with even greater respect, gave him Daoist robes, and sent people to Suzhou to verify his origins.

Wang Feng’s representatives confirmed that Wang Kejiao had indeed gone out onto the river in a fishing boat on the third day of the third month and had not returned home. His family had found the boat and assumed he had drowned. His wife and children had already performed a ritual to summon his soul and buried him. Wang Feng submitted an account of what had happened to the court, and the emperor praised it as a marvel.

Later, Wang Kejiao returned to his hometown and told the villagers everything that had happened. He also took them to the riverbank and pointed out where he had encountered the pleasure boat. After eating the chestnuts, he no longer ate the Five Grains. He seemed to move with the aid of supernatural power and stopped farming and fishing. He took his wife and children to Mount Siming, where they lived for more than twenty years.

Later, he appeared again in Mingzhou, selling medicine. He had others buy wine for him, and gave away all the money he earned. He said that the medicine had been passed down by Hupōng and the wine by the Mother of Yuhang. The medicine cured illness effectively, while the wine made those who drank it very drunk. People in the streets and alleys of Mingzhou all said that the medicine and wine of Immortal Wang were unmatched in the world. Daoist masters and ordinary people often painted his portrait. Those suffering from malaria or disturbed by malevolent spirits would hang the portrait near them, and their symptoms would then be cured.

More than thirty years later, Wang Kejiao entered Mount Siming once more and never came out again. To this day, people still say they have occasionally seen him.

Li Sheng, courtesy name Yunju, called himself a native of Jiangxia. He was born in the jiawu year of Emperor Dezong’s reign in the Tang dynasty. Exceptionally bright from childhood, he grew up well read, skilled at writing, quick-witted, and eloquent. Refined and antiquarian in temperament, he once studied under a Daoist master on Mount Shaoshi, learning methods for refining Qi and nurturing the body. Thereafter, he often traveled from place to place in plain clothes.

At the time, Yuan Zhen served as Regional Inspector of eastern Zhejiang, and Bai Juyi held office in Qiantang. Both were old friends of Li Sheng and admired his literary talent and Daoist arts, so they invited him to join their gatherings. Someone at a banquet asked him, “Now that the realm enjoys peace and prosperity, why not seek fame and fortune instead of remaining a commoner for so long?” Li Sheng replied, “It is not certain that the times will summon me; even if they do, I will not go.” Then he slowly recited, “Born among Confucians, I have arrived in an age of peace; the costly gifts used to recruit worthy men weigh heavily, while a commoner’s life is carefree. Who would chase fame and gain along the roads of this world? I serve the Jade Emperor and return to Shangqing.”

Yuan Zhen and Bai Juyi both considered him extraordinary. They entertained him with poetry and wine and kept him as their guest for more than a year. Later, Li Sheng set out on his travels again, and no one knew where he went.

In the gengzi year of Emperor Xizong’s reign, after Huang Chao entered the capital, the realm fell into turmoil. Only the Jiangdong region remained relatively stable. Tian Jun, the military governor of Wanling, had long been devoted to Daoist arts. An old man in the area said that he had seen Li Sheng as a child, and that after several decades Li Sheng’s appearance had not changed at all. Everyone was astonished.

Li Sheng’s complexion was bright and smooth, and his figure light and nimble; he looked to be in his forties. His beard and hair were completely black, his pupils nearly square, and his teeth pointed and arranged like date pits. He liked eating stone lotus seeds and could chew through a sheng of them in no time, splitting each seed in two—a feat no one else could imitate. He could drink two dou of wine without getting drunk, and could also abstain from grain and sustain himself with Qi. In heavy snow he wore only a single layer of clothing, and his face grew even rosier and fairer. Sometimes he would point his middle finger at a lamp more than a zhang away, and the flame would flicker as if stirred by the wind. When people asked him about Daoist arts and longevity, he always gave vague answers.

Later, he suddenly said to someone, “I am weary of this world. With wars raging everywhere, it would be better to leave.” At the time, Emperor Zhaozong was being held under Zhu Quanzhong’s control. When Li Sheng heard this, he was greatly angered. The next day he suddenly stopped breathing, yet his complexion remained unchanged. People carried him into a coffin, only to find that it contained nothing but his empty clothes. He was then one hundred and forty-seven years old.

Less than a month later, Tian Jun was defeated in battle, and the calamity also reached Li Sheng. Li Sheng seemed to have foreseen this long before: he had left in advance and had told others what would happen. For this reason, people all regarded him as a sage. Later, someone saw him again in Shu.

Ye Qianshao, courtesy name Lucong, was from Jianchang in Hongzhou. As a young man, he studied Daoist arts under the two perfected lords Xu and Wu, Daoists of Xishan. He practiced bigu, abstaining from grain to cultivate and nourish his Qi, and once lived alone in the mountains.

One day, a sudden storm swept through the mountains, with thunder and lightning. A man dressed in white bowed to Ye Qianshao and said, “Your cultivation of Dao and De has reached a very high level. Your merits have been recorded and your rank raised in the registers of the immortals. Your charge in the human world is to command spirits and ghosts, make your achievements known, and help people. A divine being is about to descend. You may meet them without fear.”

Ye Qianshao then burned incense, cupped his hands, and sat quietly. A short while later, a perfected official descended from the clouds, dressed in red and wearing a distant-travel crown. More than ten divine generals arrived as well, each carrying a sword and wearing a tiger-and-dragon talisman. A great many spirits and ghosts followed them. Two officials, one in yellow and one in green, each held a scroll. The divine generals lined up and bowed to Ye Qianshao. The perfected official said to him, “These registers are bestowed upon you by the mandate of Heaven. The divine generals, officials, and soldiers are all at your command. Use them to help people.”

Ye Qianshao bowed and received the heavenly writings. He picked up the scrolls and examined them, finding that they resembled the military rolls used in the human world. The officials in charge of the registers said that if he held them and summoned the generals, they would answer his command.

From then on, when Ye Qianshao gave a long whistle, fierce winds swept through the forests and mountains. When he sprayed water from his mouth, rain fell over the fields. When he stamped his foot, thunder rumbled from beneath the earth; when he moved his hand through the air, flashes of lightning appeared. He often traveled throughout the land, behaving as if mad and turning up in town in a drunken state. Sometimes he would suddenly shout as though issuing commands. When people asked what he was doing, he would reply, “I saw a fire break out in one place, and a long drought in another, so I went to put out the fire and bring rain.” People later checked and found that it was just as he had said.

When he passed through a prefecture or county during a drought, the local people would ask him to pray for rain. Ye Qianshao would set out an incense altar and pray briefly, and rain would fall. If someone asked him to summon thunder, he would stamp once, and thunder would rumble beneath the ground. When rain continued too long and prayers for clear skies had no effect, people would ask him to stop it; after he performed his arts, the sky would clear. If there was a drought in winter and people asked for snow, he would stand barefoot in the blazing sun, dressed in a single layer, while giving long whistles and chanting. Before long, wind and clouds gathered, and snow fell through the night.

He also used talismans to treat illness and suffering. He did not wait for people to ask for help: whenever he saw someone sick, he pitied them and offered treatment. Those troubled by malign spirits recovered as soon as they heard Ye Qianshao’s name. Those who received a talisman he had drawn never suffered the illness again.

In the eleventh year of the Xiantong era, he traveled to Haozhou and heard that the prefect Liu Fang had suddenly suffered a stroke and was near death. Even the most famous physicians could not cure him. Ye Qianshao entered the city leaning on a staff and said, “I have come this time precisely to bring the prefect back to life.” He drew three talismans and placed them on Liu Fang’s shoulder, ribs, and leg. “Drive the wind malignity out through the soles of his feet,” he said. “He will recover in three days.” Sure enough, the wind malignity streamed out through the soles of Liu Fang’s feet, and three days later he was back to normal.

Liu Fang was widely learned in literature and had long been fond of Daoist arts. As an official, he had governed prefectures and counties and benefited the people. He said to his guests and subordinates, “All my life I have taken the Dao as my teacher. Then I was suddenly struck by a grave illness, and, by the response of a sage, he came to treat me. Perhaps this can be compared with Dong Feng’s treatment of Shi Xie. This truly is a retribution brought about by the power of Daoist arts.” Everyone in the prefecture regarded Ye Qianshao as a divine being. Liu Fang welcomed him to the prefectural residence and wanted to take him as his teacher. He also offered him a generous gift of gold and silk, but Ye Qianshao left at once and could not be found afterward.

Later, when people in the Jingzhou and Xiangzhou regions spoke of what had happened in Haozhou, Ye Qianshao merely smiled. More than ten years later, he lived in seclusion on Xishan. Even now, people still occasionally see him.

Xu the Fisher had no known family name and called himself a native of Penglai Township in the Eastern Sea. He spoke with clarity, knew the classics and histories, the masters and the collected writings, and composed verses with ease. He often recited:

“I once saw the First Emperor of Qin build a stone bridge,

while the sea god hurriedly raised towering waves.

Though Penglai lies across the sea and is hard to reach,

ascending straight to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) is not far.”

He often hung a gourd from his waist and drifted in a small boat around Ezhou, traveling through the Three Xiang regions and passing by the Five Lakes. He would take the fish he caught to the market and trade them for wine. After reciting poems and chatting with people, he would leave. Even when his hair had turned gray, some curious people said they had known him for decades, yet his appearance had never changed.

Once, someone jokingly asked him to fish, naming the species and weight they wanted. The fish he caught all matched what had been requested, to everyone’s astonishment. When someone fell ill, he would take medicine from his gourd and treat them. The pills were as small as sesame seeds or millet grains. He would not let the patient swallow them, but instead grind them in wine and apply them between the chest and abdomen. The illness would then be cured at once, with remarkable efficacy.

When asked whether the medicine could be eaten, he said it could, but that anyone who swallowed it would lose all desire for food. Those fond of cultivating the Dao who took one pill would go ten years without eating, needing only to drink wine and water regularly to stay hydrated. Their faces remained ruddy, and their teeth and hair did not age. Many people obtained this medicine, and most lived to the age of eighty or ninety. Qian Lang of Mount Lu took it many times and thereby lived a long life. Even now, fishermen on the rivers and lakes sometimes see Xu the Fisher. When they chase him, his little boat darts away as fast as an arrow, and they cannot get close. He was a Water Immortal.

Qian Lang

Qian Lang, courtesy name Neiguang, was from Nanchang in Hongzhou. In his youth, he lived on Mount Xi and devoted himself to study. He was deeply learned, diligent, and upright in character. He passed the civil service examinations through his study of the Five Classics and later held a succession of official posts, earning a reputation for integrity and honesty. Wherever he served, he left behind good government that benefited the people, and those of his time praised him.

During the reign of Emperor Wenzong of Tang, Qian Lang served as deputy commissioner of Nan’an and later rose to the post of Minister of Court Banquets. After resigning from office, he lived in seclusion on Mount Lu. He was deeply interested in Daoist arts and became a disciple of the Daoist priest Bu, of Mount Dongyue. From him, he learned techniques for replenishing the brain and restoring the original essence, as well as methods of ingesting substances and cultivation intended to attain longevity.

During the reign of Emperor Zhaozong of Tang, Qian Liu, Prince of Pengcheng from Qiantang, admired Qian Lang for attaining the Dao and living a long life. He invited him to reside in Qiantang and served him with respect and devotion. By then, Qian Lang was more than 150 years old, yet his face was childlike and his body light and vigorous. Several of his great-great-grandsons entered government service through their knowledge of the Confucian classics and rose to high offices, including that of chief minister. Their hair had turned completely white, while Qian Lang still looked like a baby in swaddling clothes.

Qian Liu earnestly begged Qian Lang to pass on his secret arts. After living in Qiantang for more than twenty years, Qian Lang suddenly took his leave one day, saying, “I have spent many years among the living, and have just received a summons from Shangqing, the Daoist celestial realm revered as an abode of immortals. Now it is time for me to depart.” Soon afterward, he stopped breathing. Several days later, his face remained peaceful, as though he were alive, and the room was filled with a wondrous fragrance. When people carried him into the coffin, he had already undergone “corpse liberation,” the Daoist transformation in which the body is left behind as the immortal departs.

One of his great-great-grandsons told others, “My great-great-grandfather was already more than 170 years old.”

Sima Chengzhen, courtesy name Zifang, was learned and talented, skilled in writing and adept at both seal script and clerical script. He created a distinctive calligraphic style known as “Golden Scissors Script.” He lived in seclusion on Yuxiao Peak on Mount Tiantai, calling himself “Master White Cloud.” He practiced methods for nourishing life, including taking elixirs. Empress Wu Zetian summoned him several times, but he never accepted her invitations.

Emperor Ruizong of Tang revered Daoism and held Sima Chengzhen in particular esteem. Later, Sima Chengzhen accepted an imperial summons and came to court. Ruizong asked him about Yin-Yang arts and methods of divination. Sima Chengzhen replied, “The Scripture of Laozi says: ‘Reduce, and reduce again, until you reach Wuwei.’ The human mind and eyes constantly take in what they see and know, and even these impressions need to be reduced to clear away distracting thoughts. How much more so should one avoid studying heterodox arts and techniques, which only add to the mind’s cares?”

Ruizong asked, “Cultivating oneself through Wuwei certainly seems tranquil and elevated. But how should Wuwei be practiced in governing the state?” Sima Chengzhen answered, “The state is like the human body. The Laozi says that when the mind remains detached and the breath returns to stillness, one follows the natural state of all things and shows no partiality; then the world is easy to govern. The Book of Changes says that the Sage’s De accords with that of Heaven and Earth. From this we know that Heaven speaks no words, yet all things remain true to their nature; it acts through Wuwei, and all things come to be of themselves. The essence of Wuwei is the key to governing the state.” Ruizong admired him greatly and wished to keep him at court in a high position, but Sima Chengzhen firmly declined. Before long, he asked to return to the mountains. Ruizong gave him a precious zither and a flowered cape and saw him off. Many senior officials wrote poems in his honor. The palace attendant Xu Yanbo selected more than twenty of the finest and compiled them as Records of the White Cloud, writing a preface as well. These works later circulated widely.

In his youth, Lu Cangyong had lived in seclusion on Zhongnan Mountain, but later entered government service and rose to a high post. When he saw that Sima Chengzhen was about to return to Mount Tiantai, he pointed to Zhongnan Mountain and said, “There are fine places for reclusion here too. Why go all the way to Mount Tiantai?” Sima Chengzhen replied calmly, “As I see it, this place is merely a shortcut to office.” Lu Cangyong showed his embarrassment.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang issued an edict establishing an altar and residence for Sima Chengzhen on Mount Wangwu. Sima Chengzhen was skilled in seal script, clerical script, and Golden Scissors Script, and had developed a style of his own. The emperor ordered him to write the Laozi in all three scripts and to correct the text of the classic. Sima Chengzhen also cast the Hanying Mirror and the Zhenjing Sword and presented them to the emperor. The emperor sent Wei Tao, Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, to Sima Chengzhen’s residence to conduct a Golden Register prayer ritual according to proper rites and to bestow generous gifts. After returning from Mount Fengshan, Wei Tao asked Sima Chengzhen which spirits governed the Five Sacred Peaks.

Sima Chengzhen replied, “The Five Sacred Peaks are great mountains and strongholds. They can summon clouds and bring rain, and the state looks to them for support. But the numinous immortals who dwell in the mountains are governed by separate celestial officials.” The emperor then issued an edict ordering the construction of temples to these celestial officials on each of the Five Sacred Peaks.

At that time, the Daoist nun Jiao Jingzhen crossed the sea to Penglai in search of a teacher. On the way, she met an enlightened adept on a mountain. He told her, “Sima Chengzhen of Mount Tiantai is listed on the Cinnabar Terrace and dwells at Chicheng. He is a true and worthy teacher.” When Jiao Jingzhen returned, she visited Sima Chengzhen and asked to be initiated into the Dao. Before long, she ascended to Heaven. She later appeared among the living and said to Xue Jichang, “Your attainment surpasses that of Tao Dushui. In time, you should become a Perfected One of the Eastern Florescence and Highest Clarity.”

During the Kaiyuan era, the Celestial Master Wenjing and Sima Chengzhen attended the ritual fast for the Thousand Autumns Festival together at the Hall of Eternal Life. After they completed the ritual observances that night, they retired on opposite sides of a cloud-patterned screen. Before long, the Celestial Master heard a child reciting scripture in a clear voice, like gold and jade striking together. He lifted his robe and crept over to look. He saw a light the size of a coin shining from Sima Chengzhen’s forehead, illuminating the whole mat. When he leaned closer to listen, he realized that the recitation came from within Sima Chengzhen’s head. Returning to his place, the Celestial Master told his disciples that the Scripture of the Yellow Court speaks of the “Nine Perfected Ones in the Muddy Pellet,” each occupying a space one inch square, and also mentions the “Lordly Son of the Left,” who gives forth wondrous speech. Both passages, he said, referred to Sima Chengzhen.

Sima Chengzhen had more than seventy disciples. One day, he suddenly told them, “From Yuxiao Peak, I looked east and saw Penglai, where numinous Perfected Ones had descended. The Blue Youth of the Eastern Sea has now summoned me on the order of the Lord of Eastern Florescence.” A moment later, he passed away as though a cicada had shed its skin. His disciples buried his robes and headwear. He lived to the age of eighty-nine. The emperor posthumously bestowed on him the title Grand Master of the Silver-Green Honor Guard and the honorific “Master of Orthodox Unity,” and personally composed his epitaph. Wei Qiumou wrote his biography. Sima Chengzhen also wrote The Hidden Essentials of Cultivating Perfection, Diagram of the Palaces and Offices of Heaven and Earth, Treatise on Sitting in Forgetfulness, Records of Ascending to Perfection, and other works, which circulated among later generations.

Cao Dexiu said that he had come to Jiangxi on his travels from Qingyu Mountain in the Eastern Sea. Local people had known him for more than thirty years, yet his appearance never changed. He often went among ordinary people, treating the sick with Fulu and medicines. Everyone he treated recovered. He also left behind such works as On Sitting in Forgetfulness and On Ascending to True Immortality.

A young woman in her twenties was about to be betrothed when she was suddenly afflicted by an evil spirit. Many treatments were tried, but her condition only worsened. Her father went to visit Cao Dexiu and described his daughter’s symptoms in detail. Cao asked, “Is there a pool or cave near the mountain stream beside your home?” The father said there was. Cao continued, “In spring, when your daughter was strolling by the stream, a jiao—a mythical water creature—spied her. It has seized her vital essence and kept it in its cavern.”

Cao gave the father a talisman and told him to cast it into the pool. As soon as it entered the water, the pool churned violently, making a sound like thunder. Before long, a creature more than twenty feet long, shaped like a black snake, surfaced. Its head was as large as a ladle, split open, and bleeding; the creature was dead. When the father returned home, he found his daughter clear-minded and completely recovered. He brought gifts to thank Cao Dexiu, but Cao said, “I treated her simply to cure her illness. Why bring me these things?” He refused to accept them.

Cao Dexiu often told people, “If someone in your family is ill, there’s no need to bring gifts. When you come to me for talismans and medicine, just serve me a platter of river fish sliced thin and a pot of good wine, then tell me what ails the person. The illness will naturally be cured.” The villagers did as he said, and it worked every time.

Later, Cao Dexiu suddenly told everyone, “I’m leaving here for Tianbao Cave in the Western Mountain. But next spring there will be a severe epidemic among cattle. I’ll leave you a list of names; copy it and pass it around. When the epidemic spreads, serve me sliced fish, then paste the written names on the cattle’s horns, and they will be safe.” The following year, a great many cattle indeed contracted the disease. In one district, the cattle with the names pasted on their horns escaped the disaster; those without them all died. People missed Cao Dexiu deeply, but they never saw him again.

The Biography of Wang Yuanzhi records that Cao Dexiu once served as an official astronomer of the Western Jin and later as a Secretariat Gentleman under the Later Liang. He eventually attained the Way of long life and deathlessness.

Lüqiu Fangyuan, styled Dafang, was from Susong County in Shuzhou. Clever and articulate from childhood, he had mastered the classics and histories by the age of sixteen. He studied the Classic of Changes with Chen Yuanwu on Mount Lu. At twenty-nine, he sought instruction from Zuo Yuanze of Xianglin on refining the Great Elixir, the internal or immortal elixir pursued in Daoist cultivation.

Recognizing Lüqiu Fangyuan’s exceptional insight, Zuo Yuanze said to him, “Have you not heard Laozi say, ‘I have a great affliction because I have this body’? The body arises from Wuwei (non-action), then enters the realm of action. To return to the root now is what we call Wuwei. Wuwei does not mean that ‘nothing exists,’ for that would fall into emptiness; nor does it mean clinging to ‘existence,’ for that would bring constraint. Clinging to either existence or nonexistence leads to stagnation. Only when you cling to neither, and your mind is still, free of attachment, can you draw near to the Dao (the Way). The Buddhists call this Chan; Yan Hui, Confucius’s disciple, called it ‘sitting in forgetfulness.’ The Classic of Changes says, ‘Without thought or action, still and unmoving, it responds and thereby comprehends all that happens under Heaven.’ These teachings, in the end, mean the same thing. The scriptures also say that when you look toward it, you cannot see its beginning, and when you follow it, you cannot see its end. What, then, is it? If you can understand it in silence and realize it within yourself, what more is there to seek?” Zuo Yuanze regretted that Lüqiu Fangyuan’s gifts and talents were so outstanding, believing he was fit to become a model for the Daoist community.

After bowing in thanks, Lüqiu Fangyuan departed. He later went to Hidden Truth Cliff on Mount Xiandu and studied the arts of cultivating truth and transcending the world with Liu Chujing. At thirty-four, he received Fulu (talismans and registers), the credentials conferred on Daoists upon entering the order, at Yuxiao Palace on Mount Tiantai. Ye Cangzhi transmitted to him the complete collection of sacred texts and secret teachings. Alongside practicing guarding the One and guiding Qi (vital energy) through breath, Lüqiu Fangyuan diligently read the writings of the various schools and the histories. He often remembered a book after reading it just once, and never forgot what he had learned. He would say, “Ge Zhichuan [Ge Hong] and Tao Zhenbai [Tao Hongjing] are my teachers and friends.” He also lectured on the Taiping Jing, compiling its teachings into thirty chapters and explaining their essential meaning. His reputation consequently spread throughout the Jianghuai region.

In the second year of the Jingfu era under Emperor Zhaozong of Tang, Qian Liu, Prince of Pengcheng in Qiantang, admired Lüqiu Fangyuan’s Daoist virtue. He went to Yuhang to visit him and built him a residence at Dadi Cave. Emperor Zhaozong repeatedly summoned Lüqiu Fangyuan to court. From the celestial signs, Lüqiu Fangyuan inferred that the Qin region was about to fall into disorder and that the fortunes of the Tang dynasty would soon change. Comparing himself to Yuan and Qi Li, the two recluses among the Four Elders of Mount Shang, he remained in seclusion and never answered the summons. Zhaozong therefore issued an edict praising him, bestowed official robes, and gave him the titles “Master of Wondrous Being” and “Mister of Mysterious Unity,” honoring him for proclaiming the sacred teachings and enlightening the uninitiated.

Tales of Lüqiu Fangyuan’s extraordinary deeds spread throughout Wu and Chu. Students came to learn from him in an unbroken stream, from both near and far. He had more than two hundred disciples. Among them, Xia Yinyan of Kuaiji, Dai Yinyu of Qiao, Zheng Yinyao of Xingyang, Ling Yinzhou of Wu Commandery, Sheng Yinlin of Guangling, and Zhang Yinzhi of Wudu all received the essential teachings of the Dao and penetrated their methods. Cheng Zixiao of Guangping answered a summons to the Qin palace, while Nie Shidao of Xin’an propagated the teachings in the state of Wu. Hu Qian’guang of Anding, Kong Zonglu of Lu, and ten others mastered the mysteries of contemplating truth and refining Shen (spirit). The remaining disciples traveled among celebrated sites or withdrew to famous mountains; their deeds can no longer be recorded one by one.

On the fourteenth day of the second month in the second year of the Tianfu era, Lüqiu Fangyuan bathed, burned incense, and sat upright until noon, when he passed away peacefully. His face was serene, his body relaxed and supple, and a fragrant scent lingered for three days. His disciples prepared his coffin according to customary rites, but found only his clothes inside: his body had undergone “corpse liberation,” the Daoist term for leaving the mortal form at death. He was buried on White Deer Mountain beside Dadi Cave. Later, people saw him several times on Mount Xiandu and Mount Lu. He said, “I left Dadi Cave and withdrew to Tianzhu Peak on Mount Qian.”

Nie Shidao, whose courtesy name was Tongfang, was from She County in Xin’an. Naturally bright and sincere, he spoke plainly and behaved with humility and care. He was known for honoring his parents and greatly respected by people in his home district. In his youth, he studied under a cousin of Nie Dehui, an official of the Bureau of External Affairs. When Nie Dehui was sent from his post as a Secretariat official to serve in Xin’an, he chose a beautiful spot in the mountains east of the prefectural city and built a residence there, which he called the Mountain Lodge for Inquiring into Governance. Shidao served him with complete devotion. At thirteen, Shidao donned a cap and Daoist robes and formally entered the Dao. At fifteen, he received a Fulu (talismans and registers), the credential of Daoist rank conferred on a Daoist priest, and began studying the art of cultivating the Dao.

Later, Shidao traveled through the mountains of Jixi. He said that he had read secret Daoist teachings and knew a method of cultivation that involved consuming pine resin. He and his fellow Daoists climbed Mount Baizhang to gather it. The mountain was named for its towering cliffs. From its summit, the land stretched far in every direction, and the peak rose more than a thousand ren above the surrounding terrain. One night, Shidao slept beneath a pine tree on the summit. The sky was clear and the moon bright when he suddenly heard celestial music coming from the southeast. A distant purple cloud came into view, drifting slowly over Mount Shijin. As high as Mount Baizhang, Shijin stood more than thirty li away, though the two mountains seemed close enough to touch. The celestial music reached the mountains and paused. Three soft drumbeats sounded, followed by bells and stone chimes, reed pipes, flutes, and stringed instruments. The sounds were clear and lilting, with a distinct, steady beat, but no one could make out the tune. It was unlike any music of the human world. The performance lasted from the third watch of the night until the cockcrow. Later, when Shidao asked the people living below the mountain, they all said they had heard the music that night. His companions marveled: “We are gathering a numinous herb, and suddenly we hear celestial music. Could this be a response to our presence? It is also an auspicious sign that you will attain the Dao.”

After that, Shidao traveled to Mount Heng in the south. He paid his respects at the Jade Clarity Altar and the Radiant Heaven Green Jade Altar, then took up residence at the Temple for Inviting Immortals. He entered the Source of the Numinous Grotto in springtime. He had heard that this was where the Perfected Cai had once lived in seclusion, among extraordinary trees and flowers, and that woodcutters sometimes saw him. Longing to meet him, Shidao fasted for seven days and set out alone early one morning to search the mountain. After a long walk, he smelled flowers, and the day began to darken. He came to a broad stream and saw a woodcutter sitting on the sandy bank. When Shidao tried to approach, the woodcutter hoisted his bundle of firewood and walked into the stream. The water looked shallow, but when Shidao stepped in, he found it deep and fast-flowing and dared not cross. The woodcutter looked back and said, “You will not be able to cross this stream for another fifty years.” Then he seemed to walk across the water and vanished in an instant.

Shidao turned back and walked more than ten li. In the distance, he saw three thatched cottages enclosed by a fence, with chickens and dogs nearby. As he approached, he saw a man who looked about thirty, with a pale, bluish complexion and the appearance of a farmer, living there alone. The man was surprised to see him and asked why he was alone in the deep mountains. Shidao said he had come to seek the Perfected Cai. The man asked whether he had met a woodcutter along the way. When Shidao said he had, the man replied, “That was the Daoist Cai himself.”

It was late, and the forest was dark. With nowhere to stay, Shidao told the man how he had come from Xin’an to seek immortals and visit teachers of the Dao. The man invited him inside and offered him a place on the bed beside the hearth. He said the food in the mountains had run out and that he had gone in search of more but had not yet returned. Shidao said he had not eaten for a long time and did not need food. Near the fire he saw a pot for boiling soup and several yellow porcelain boxes. The host told him to help himself. Shidao opened one box and found tea inside. The host told him to steep it in hot water. Its fragrance and flavor were unlike ordinary tea. Shidao wanted another cup and tried to open a box again, but could not. None of the other boxes would open either. He felt that this was no ordinary farmer’s home, but did not dare say so.

The host went to sleep in another room. He did not rise even when the sun was high, and there was no lamp or candle. In his sleep, he said, “This place is remote and quiet. If I suddenly fall ill, I will not be able to look after you. There are many households in the village ahead; you can go there.” Shidao walked several li but found no village, only steep cliffs. He turned back to find the house but lost his way. After walking more than thirty li, he suddenly met an old man. The old man cheerfully invited him to sit on a rock and asked why he had come into the mountain. After hearing his story, the old man said, “Lord Cai and his son both live in seclusion on this mountain. The place where you stayed last night was his son’s home.”

The old man continued, “Your Dao energy is strong, but your immortal bones have not yet formed. You went into the mountain and became hungry and thirsty; how could you remain there for long?” As he spoke, he broke off a plant and gave it to Shidao. It looked like a ginger shoot and was more than a foot long. Shidao chewed it and found it sweet. The old man then told him to drink from the spring. When Shidao looked up, the old man had disappeared. He sighed with grief. After eating the plant and drinking the spring water, he felt lighter and stronger than when he had arrived. He tried to follow the mountain path back to the house but found it blocked by thorny brush and vines, impossible to pass through.

Shidao returned to the Temple for Inviting Immortals. The Daoist priests were astonished and said, “Though this temple stands near a numinous mountain, the hills are full of wild animals and insects. Few people dare to walk there alone. How could you have been gone for more than a month? We waited a long time and were very worried.” Shidao said he had entered the mountain only yesterday and had spent just one night there. He told them about the woodcutter, the lodging, and the old man. The priests exclaimed, “Though we live here and know of the Perfected Cai, we have never had the good fortune to meet him. You entered the mountain and met both Lord Cai and his son. We have heard that the old man was the Perfected Peng, who also lived in seclusion on this mountain. You spent only one night in the mountain, while more than a month passed in the human world. This is the result of the affinity you have built through your practice over the years.”

Shidao stayed at the temple and continued cultivating for many years. Later, because his parents were old and he longed for his family, he returned to the Mountain Lodge for Inquiring into Governance. Whenever he went into the hills to gather firewood or medicinal herbs, tigers and leopards would lower their ears, wag their tails, and lie down at the sight of him. Shidao would stroke them and call to them, and only then would they rise and follow him. Sometimes they carried firewood and herbs on their backs and brought them home. In earlier times, when Guo Wenju lived in the Great Cleansing Grotto, a crouching tiger had also kept him company. There were many fierce animals in the mountains near She County, yet they did not harm the people. People believed this was because Shidao had transformed them.

His parents sometimes asked what he had learned on his travels. He would tell them everything he had experienced. They were delighted and said, “You care for us with filial devotion, and we support you in the Dao. To be your mother is a blessing. This is the fruit of good fortune accumulated in a previous life.”

Later, Shidao set out on his travels again, intending to visit Mount Jiuyi in the south. He had long heard that the Perfected Mei and Attendant Xiao had both lived in seclusion on Mount Yushe, where people often saw them. The Perfected Mei was Mei Fu, a commandant of Nanchang; Attendant Xiao was Xiao Ziyun, a prince of the Liang dynasty. Xiao Ziyun had taken his whole family into the mountains to escape the disturbances of Hou Jing, and both men had attained the Dao there. Shidao stayed at the Temple of Pure Emptiness on Mount Yushe. Admiring Mei and Xiao, he went three times to the old site at Dumu Keng, hoping to meet them.

On one visit, he went deep into the mountain and suddenly saw a man in coarse cloth and a black gauze cap, with the appearance of someone about fifty. Shidao greeted him with a bow. At first the man said he was a traveler and asked where Shidao was going. When he learned that Shidao was seeking Mei and Xiao, he said, “I have heard that you have devoted yourself to the Dao with great effort and have visited famous mountains far and wide. That is no easy undertaking. You wish to meet the two Perfected Ones; I can take you to them. Your deeds in past lives are pure, and your name is already recorded in the Jade Register. Though you cannot ascend at once, you should be able to transcend the world.”

The man continued, “My name is Xie Tongxiu. I was afraid you would not recognize me, so I have explained who I am. I once lived on Mount Heng in the south and went into seclusion with Peng and Cai. Three hundred years have passed since then. I know you visited the Source of the Numinous Grotto. Now, by order of Lord Donghua, I oversee the affairs of the terrestrial immortals of Mount Yushe, and I also govern the local spirits and land shrines within the grounds of the Temple of Pure Emptiness. You and I have a bond through the Dao, which is why we meet today. However, Lord of the Lesser You Grotto summoned Mei and Xiao at noon. They may not return soon, so you will have to wait to see them.”

Shidao bowed and said, “I am merely an ordinary man, yet I have presumed to seek the Great Dao. Day and night I concentrate my mind, but still I do not understand the essentials of cultivation. I am like someone adrift on the sea, not knowing where the shore lies. I never imagined I would meet you today, Lord of the Dao. This is a tremendous blessing.” Xie Tongxiu replied, “Your sincere and arduous search is moving. Your affairs in the human world are not yet settled, so you cannot remain here now.”

Xie Tongxiu led Shidao along for a while. Suddenly, two thatched cottages appeared, very neat and clean. Inside were a bed, mats, and a small pot of water heating over a fire, but no one else was there. Xie Tongxiu invited Shidao to sit on a wooden seat and sat himself on a white stone seat shaped like a deer. After a while, a child with two hair knots brought Shidao a bowl of hot water. When he drank it, his mind and body felt refreshed. Xie Tongxiu pointed to a scroll on a shelf and said, “This is the Plain Book. Study it diligently and do not slacken, and you will grasp its true teachings.”

Shidao wanted to ask to stay and study, but before he could speak, Xie Tongxiu already knew what he had in mind. He said, “Your parents are old. Though your elder brother supports them, you still cannot stay here. My disciple Zizhi lives on Mount Jiuyi. If you visit him, you can deliver my message and show him the Plain Book; he will explain its essential teachings. If you cannot find him, cast the book into the grotto above Maoru Stream and write on the cliff face what I have entrusted to you. Zizhi will then transmit the key teachings to you.”

After speaking, Xie Tongxiu led Shidao out of the mountain. In an instant, Shidao was outside the Temple of Pure Emptiness at Dumu Keng. The Daoist priests were amazed that he had returned after being away for only seven days. When he explained what had happened, two priests happily accompanied him back to the old site at Dumu Keng. The rocks and plants were just as he remembered them, but the cottages had vanished. They searched all day and returned disappointed.

After Shidao received the Plain Book, he could read most of its writing. It described the secret methods and true teachings by which the Queen Mother of Mount Gui governed the immortals. Terrestrial immortals who studied it could ascend to heaven. There were some difficult passages he could not fully understand. Later, Shidao traveled south to Mount Jiuyi and stayed for more than a month at the Temple of the True Ones of the Xiang River, asking everywhere for news of Zizhi. People said that there was a recluse at Maoru Stream whose name no one knew, though he had occasionally been seen. Shidao searched the mountain many times but could not find him. He therefore followed Xie Tongxiu’s instructions, cast the book into the grotto, and wrote the message entrusted to him on the cliff face. Later, he dreamed of an immortal who identified himself as Zizhi and explained the difficult passages. When Shidao awoke, he understood them.

A little over a year later, Shidao returned to the Mountain Lodge for Inquiring into Governance and lived there for more than thirty years. Whenever he burned incense and paid his respects, he gazed up at the portraits of the two Cai immortals, Peng, and Xie. He also personally collected and compiled strange accounts, passing them on both within the Daoist tradition and among the people.

Later, when Yang Xingmi, the Grand Ancestor of Wu, ruled the Huai and Yangtze regions, he heard of Shidao’s reputation and hoped to rely on his moral and spiritual cultivation to bring peace to the army and the people. He summoned Shidao to Guangling and built the Palace of the Mysterious Origin for him to live in. When Shidao ascended the altar to pray for blessings, his pleas for favor and his prayers concerning drought or flood moved Heaven and Earth, and auspicious clouds appeared. People therefore turned to Daoism, and the region became peaceful and prosperous. The Grand Ancestor of Wu honored him with the titles Grand Master of Free Wandering and Master of Inquiring into Governance.

Shidao’s disciples Zou De Kuang, Wang Chu Ne, Yang Kuangyi, Wang Yongzhen, Cheng Shoupu, Hui Jingxiao, Wang Keru, Cui Chanran, Du Chongzhen, Deng Qixia, Wu Zhigu, and others grasped the Daoist teachings. They transmitted the Shangqing tradition and spread throughout the prefectures and regions, carrying on the Daoist lineage. The court granted them purple robes to mark their standing in the Daoist community. Daoist priests from Qin, Wu, Qi, Jing, Yan, Liang, Min, Shu, and other places traveled from afar and stayed for long periods with Shidao, serving him with dedication.

Shidao once said to his disciples, “I have no special Daoist arts. Why have you come from so far away?” They replied, “In the past, Master Zhang lived in Shu, and people from all over the world went to serve him. He taught each person the Daoist arts suited to their level of cultivation. His disciples served him for years as attendants and laborers without leaving, and in the end they became immortals. We are all old now, and our children and grandchildren are drawing closer to decline each day. We hope to escape our brief lives and attain longevity. We beg you not to reject our sincerity.”

Shidao treated people with kindness and did not turn his disciples away. He guided each of them in the essentials of cultivation according to their natural abilities. The disciples received his instruction over a long period, gradually absorbing its influence as clothes absorb mist and dew; like silk robes gently scented by aloeswood, they took on its fragrance over time. Shidao lived in Guangling for thirty years and had more than five hundred disciples. He practiced fetal breathing, a Daoist method of regulating the breath and nurturing Qi, for many years, and his alchemical work had reached completion.

One day, Shidao told his disciples, “Just now, an official in a black headcloth and red robe came to tell me that the immortal officials have summoned me. I must leave.” Soon, a strange fragrance filled the room, and auspicious clouds and immortal cranes came into the courtyard, as though a Perfected One had descended. Shidao took his leave peacefully and died. As the disciples prepared his body for burial, a sound suddenly came from the coffin. They opened it and found that his body had vanished, as though a cicada had shed its old shell, leaving only his clothes and cap. The disciples buried these instead.

Later, several dozen people from Yuzhang came and said they had seen Shidao traveling with a child who wore his hair in a knot. Daoist priests and ordinary people alike recognized him. When they asked why he was traveling so far, he said, “I left Mount Heng many years ago. Now I am only going back for a brief visit.” Along the way, he often stopped at temples and palaces he had visited in the past, then moved on. Six months later, people from Changsha also said they had seen him. Others saw him on the road to Hengyang, heading toward the Source of the Numinous Grotto. The woodcutter’s words—that Shidao would not be able to cross the stream for fifty years—were fulfilled exactly. On reflection, Shidao must have been a companion of the Perfected Ones Cai, Peng, and Xie, who had concealed his form and departed.

For nearly twenty years afterward, auspicious clouds and immortal cranes appeared over the Mountain Lodge for Inquiring into Governance, circling overhead for entire days. The people of She County and Shidao’s relatives believed he had returned to his native place, as in the tale of Ding Lingwei returning in the form of a crane. His disciples Fan Kebao and several dozen others brought out the clothes and cap they had preserved and reburied them at the southern foot of Mount Inquiring into Governance. They then submitted a detailed account to the court.

The court issued an edict: “According to the rites governing the posthumous bestowal of official titles, this is the proper observance. Why was no honor previously bestowed on Nie Shidao, the great man who upheld Daoist authority in the Huai, Zhejiang, Xuan, and She regions, Grand Master of Free Wandering, Master of Inquiring into Governance, and one who cultivated the Dao on the nation’s behalf through incense and ritual? He understood the mysteries from an early age and was deeply attuned to the true Dao. Like a wild crane, he stood apart from worldly customs; like a solitary cloud, he wandered freely. When the Grand Ancestor founded his realm, he had already ordered Shidao to cultivate through incense and ritual. The state’s founding ministers also held him in high regard. His cultivation truly stood above all others in the Daoist community. Though he has been dead for many years, his virtue and reputation still travel throughout the land. Now that the Daoist community has petitioned the court to honor him, and he is about to be returned to his native place for burial, we hereby grant him a high post in recognition of his good deeds. He is to be posthumously awarded the title Grandee of Silver and Blue Luster and Minister of Ceremonial, with the honorific title Master of Inquiring into Governance.”

Shidao’s coffin was brought back from the region around the capital to She County. As it passed through more than a thousand li of mountains and rivers, colorful clouds shone over it morning and evening, and wild cranes called out, as if to welcome it, escort it, and guide the way. When the coffin reached Mount Inquiring into Governance, the auspicious clouds lingered for three days before dispersing.

Yin Qiqi’s given name was Wenxiang, and he was also known as Daoquan. He often called himself “Qiqi,” and this was the name by which people generally knew him. No one knew where he came from. He wandered from place to place, and although people had seen him for many years, they could not tell how old he was. His face was smooth and radiant, his complexion fair, and he looked about forty. Sometimes he changed his name; it was never fixed.

He once sold medicine in Jingzhou. At the time, both the local Fan people and the Han Chinese around Lingtai had fallen ill with a severe epidemic. Anyone who took his medicine recovered as soon as they swallowed it, and people called him miraculous. He gave away the money he received, though he was often found drunk in the streets and marketplaces.

Zhou Bao had met Yin Qiqi in Chang’an when he was young. Later, when Zhou became military governor of Jingyuan, he invited Yin to stay and treated him with great ceremony. He admired Yin’s Daoist arts and asked him about methods for returning people to their original state and restoring their vital energies. Several years after Zhou was transferred to Xixi, Yin suddenly appeared again, selling medicine. When Zhou heard the news, he was both surprised and delighted. He invited Yin to stay and showed him even greater respect.

Yin Qiqi would often sing while drunk: “The qin plays the tune of green jade; the medicine is refined into white jade sand. I can brew wine in a moment and make flowers bloom in the blink of an eye.” Zhou Bao often tested the wine and medicines Yin prepared, and people said they worked. Zhou also asked him to grow melons and fish; Yin could do both, much like Ge Xiangong, the immortal of Daoist legend.

At Helin Temple stood a cuckoo tree more than ten feet tall. Each year, at the end of spring, it bloomed luxuriantly and brilliantly. The monks passed down the story that, during the Zhenyuan era, a foreign monk had come from Mount Tiantai carrying medicinal substances in his alms bowl. He used them to nourish the tree’s roots, then planted it. The temple later built a flower garden around it and guarded it closely. Someone had once glimpsed a beautiful woman in red playing beneath the tree. Anyone who picked its flowers or broke off a branch was sure to suffer some strange misfortune. People therefore said that she was the spirit of the flower. Everyone took care to protect the tree, and it flourished far more than ordinary plants.

As the flowers began to open, someone would always report in advance how far they had bloomed. The military governor, his staff, and other officials came one after another, several days in a row, to admire them. Later, townspeople and visitors from elsewhere came to drink and enjoy the flowers, from the end of spring well into summer. They came at all hours, and almost everyone in the streets and lanes neglected their work.

One day Zhou Bao said to Yin Qiqi, “The flowers at Helin Temple are wonders of the world. I hear you can make flowers open in an instant. Can you hasten the blooming of this tree as well?” Yin replied, “Yes.” Zhou asked, “The Double Ninth Festival is near. Can you make it bloom that day?” The festival falls on the ninth day of the ninth lunar month. Two days before it, Yin went to stay at Helin Temple.

At midnight, a woman came to Yin and asked, “Are you trying to make this flower bloom?” Yin asked who she was. She replied, “I serve the High Mystery, a celestial deity revered in Daoism, and am charged with tending this flower. It has grown in the human world for more than a hundred years. Before long it will bloom, then return to Langyuan, the fabled immortal realm. I am willing to make it bloom together with you; without you, I could not bring this about.” With that, she vanished.

Early the next morning, the monks were astonished to see the buds gradually opening. By the ninth day of the ninth month, the flowers were in full bloom, as splendid as in spring. The monks reported what had happened to Zhou Bao. The townspeople found it wondrous and came to admire the flowers as they had in spring and summer. A few days later, the flowers suddenly disappeared, and not a single fallen blossom remained on the ground.

Once, Yin Qiqi happened to visit an official’s home during a gathering. The host and guests came forward to welcome and flatter him, but two singers and musicians hired to entertain them treated him with scorn and mockery. Yin said to the host, “May I use two chestnuts to make a drinking game?” Everyone gladly agreed, thinking he would perform a trick for their amusement.

Yin passed the chestnuts around the gathering. Everyone who received one smelled a strange fragrance and exclaimed in amazement. Only the two musicians who had mocked him found that stones had appeared on their noses. No matter how hard they pulled, they could not remove them; they could only cry out that the stench was unbearable. Then the two began dancing wildly together. The ornaments in their hair fell out, and they started to weep, their face powder running down their cheeks. The other singers and musicians also began dancing in confusion, while the drums and other instruments seemed to play by themselves, keeping a fitting rhythm. When the music stopped, the dancing continued. Everyone at the gathering laughed until they doubled over.

After a long while, the two begged Yin Qiqi for forgiveness. Soon the stones fell from their noses and turned back into chestnuts, which still gave off a strange fragrance as they were passed around. The hair ornaments and makeup were also restored exactly as before, without the slightest damage. From then on, everyone treated Yin with respect.

People said that Yin Qiqi could also pour water as if it were wine and shave wood into dried meat. He could make people walk backward, or stop a boat by pointing at it with his finger. If he called to a bird, it would drop from the sky; if he spat on a fish, it would come back to life. He could scoop up soil and draw on the ground to reveal mountains, rivers, and terrain. He could also break off thatch or gather ants and turn them into cities and people. Those who saw these scenes said they vividly resembled places they had visited, only on a smaller scale. His miraculous arts were too numerous to count.

Two years later, Xue Lang and Liu Hao rebelled, and Zhou Bao fled to Hangzhou. While in power, Zhou had abused the law and implicated the innocent. When Chen Quanyu, formerly governor of Shangrao, passed through Zhou’s territory, Zhou schemed to frame him and drove away all his family. At the age of eighty-three, Zhou remained strong and vigorous and kept more than a hundred singers. People said that he owed this to Yin Qiqi’s arts. Later, Chen Quanyu died after being wrongfully persecuted and became a vengeful ghost. Zhou Bao, too, died suddenly in a single day.

When Liu Hao’s army mutinied, Yin Qiqi was at Ganlu Temple. The monks pushed him from the cliff on the north side, and he fell into the river and died. Afterward, people said they had seen him in Jiangxi. More than ten years later, he was selling medicine there; later still, he went into Shu, and his whereabouts became unknown.

The flower tree at Helin Temple was burned during the turmoil, and its roots disappeared as well. People believed it had returned to the immortal realm of Langyuan.

Tan Qiao, whose courtesy name was Jingsheng, was the son of Tan Zhu, an official in charge of instruction at the Directorate of Education. Clever from childhood, he grew up reading widely in the Confucian classics and histories. His memory was extraordinary, and there was scarcely anything in his studies that he did not know. His writing, too, was elegant and fluent. Tan Zhu taught him to prepare for the civil service examinations, but Tan Qiao had no interest in doing so. He was especially fond of the teachings of Huang-Lao, the works of the various masters, and books such as The Traditions of King Mu of Zhou, The Inner Traditions of Emperor Wu of Han, and The Inner Traditions of the Immortals of Lord Mao. He studied them all in depth.

One day, Tan Qiao told his father that he wanted to travel to Zhongnan Mountain. Since the mountain was not far from the capital, Tan Zhu agreed. From Zhongnan, Tan Qiao went on to visit the famous mountains Taibai, Taihang, Wangwu, Song, Hua, and Fang. He wandered from place to place and never returned home to visit. His father sent someone with a letter, rebuking him tactfully but at length. Tan Qiao replied, “Lord Mao once left his father to study the way of immortality. I admire him, and hope to benefit from following his example.”

Seeing that his son was devoted to seeking the Dao (the Way), Tan Zhu stopped trying to bind him to worldly affairs and let him pursue his own aspirations. Tan Qiao then became a disciple of a Daoist at Mount Song. After more than ten years of practice, he learned the methods of bigü (cultivation by abstaining from grains) and nourishing Qi (vital energy). He took pleasure only in drinking wine and often wandered about in a drunken state. In summer he wore a black leather coat, while in winter he wore a green cloth shirt. At times he lay in the wind, frost, and snow for an entire day. People thought he had died, but when they checked on him, they found his breathing steady.

His father often worried about him. Every spring and winter, he sent household servants to look for Tan Qiao and bring him clothes and money. Tan Qiao gladly accepted the gifts, wrote back in thanks, and rewarded the servants handsomely. As soon as they had left, he…