《长春真人西游记》

Master Changchun (Qiu Chuji, courtesy name Tongmi, sobriquet Changchunzi) was my teacher. His surname was Qiu, and he was a native of Qixia in Dengzhou. He left home before reaching adulthood, took Chongyang Zhenren as his master, and later lived for thirteen years in the Panxi (Panxi) and Longmen (Longmen) regions, cultivating diligently over a long period until he attained success in the Way. In his later years, he returned to the seaside.

Before the year wuyin, my master was living in Dengzhou. Envoys from Henan several times sought to summon him, but the matter did not go smoothly, and it was dropped. The following year, he stayed at the Haotian Abbey in Laizhou. In the fourth month of summer, an envoy from Henan who oversaw border affairs came to invite him to travel together, but my master declined, and the envoy returned carrying the poems and eulogies he had written. Later, another envoy came from Daliang; hearing that Shandong had been occupied by the Song, he turned back.

That August, the Grand Marshals of the south, Li Quangong and Peng Yibin, came to invite my master, and he did not go. From then on, people in various places often invited him. Local officials in Laizhou found the matter difficult to handle, and my master said: "Whether I stay or go is decided by Heaven's will, not something you can foresee. When the time comes for me to leave, you will not be able to keep me here."

Before long, Emperor Chinggis sent his attendant Liu Zhonglu bearing a tiger-head golden tablet. The tablet read: "It is as if I went in person; you may act as the situation requires." Liu Zhonglu also brought twenty Mongols to convey the imperial decree and sincerely invited my master. When my master hesitated, Liu Zhonglu said: "Your name is known throughout the realm, and the emperor has specially sent me. Whether we must cross mountains and seas or spend many days, we are determined to bring you back."

My master said: "Since the wars began, the borders between regions have been cut off, and you have come here at risk. You have truly suffered hardship." Liu Zhonglu replied: "I have received the emperor's command. How could I dare not do my utmost?"

Liu Zhonglu explained that in the fifth month of that year he received the decree at Wuliduo in the land of the Naiman; in the sixth month he reached Weining, north of Bai Deng, where he was informed of the situation by a Daoist adept named Changzhen; and in the seventh month he reached Dexing. Because the roads around Juyong were blocked, soldiers were sent from Yanjing to meet him. When he arrived in the capital in the eighth month, Daoist adepts all said: "Whether the master will be able to come is still uncertain."

Passing through Zhongshan and Zhending, word reached them that the Master Changchun (Chang Chun Zhenren) was in DongLai. The envoy Zhong Lu then gained further details from the officials Wu Yan and Jiang Yuan of the Yidu Prefecture Pacification Commission, and he resolved to take five thousand troops to welcome the Master. Wu Yan and Jiang Yuan advised him: "The people of the regions east of the capital have heard that the two courts are negotiating peace, and their hearts have only just settled. If you suddenly enter with troops now, they will certainly hold the strategic passes, or perhaps flee by sea. If you truly wish to accomplish this matter, there is no need to do it this way." Zhong Lu heeded their counsel, recruiting only those willing to accompany him, and set out with twenty cavalrymen.

As they neared Yidu, Zhong Lu had Wu Yan and Jiang Yuan hasten ahead to inform the local commander, Zhang Lin. Zhang Lin led ten thousand armored soldiers out to the outskirts to receive them. Zhong Lu smiled and said, "I am passing through here in order to seek out the Master Changchun. Why have you brought armored troops?" Zhang Lin then dismissed his army and entered the city at a leisurely pace together with Zhong Lu and his companions. Along the way, Zhong Lu made his purpose clear to everyone, and the people were not alarmed or suspicious. Zhang Lin also provided them with horses from the postal relay stations.

Upon reaching Weizhou, they met Master Yin. In the twelfth month of winter, the group arrived together in DongLai, where they conveyed to the Master the imperial command to summon him. The Master knew he could not decline, and he said slowly to Zhong Lu: "Food is scarce here. Please go on ahead to Yidu and wait for me there. Once I have completed the Shangyuan Jiao (the Daoist purification ritual held on the Shangyuan, or Upper Primordial, festival), I will send fifteen cavalrymen to you."

On the eighteenth day, Zhong Lu and the others set out westward, and nineteen of the Master's disciples, selected in advance, waited to accompany them. The agreed cavalrymen arrived on schedule, and the group set off together. When they traveled from Weiyang to Qingshe, the envoys including Zhong Lu had already gone on ahead. Zhang Lin told them that on the seventh day of the first month, four hundred cavalrymen had stationed themselves at Linzi, and the people of Qingzhou were greatly alarmed; Zhong Lu went forward to meet them and persuaded the force to stand down. After this, his whereabouts became unknown to anyone.

The Master passed through the region of Changshan and Zouping and reached Jiyang in the second month. Local scholars and commoners burned incense and welcomed him, greeting him at the south of the city. Daoist priests formed ranks to receive him and lead the way, and the Master took his meal at the Yangsu Hermitage.

Everyone said that on the eighteenth day of the previous month, more than ten cranes had flown in from the northwest, calling out among the clouds before flying off together to the southeast. On the next day, between the hours of Chen and Si (roughly 7 to 11 in the morning), several more cranes came from the southwest, and then hundreds and thousands of cranes gathered. Some flew high and some flew low, circling over the Yangsu Hermitage for a time before departing. Only then did people realize that the day the cranes had appeared was the very day the Master had set out, and they were so moved that they raised their hands and pressed them to their foreheads in salute.

The Master stayed for several days. In the early part of the second month, an Imperial Envoy (xuanshi, an official charged with conveying the court's orders) sent a cavalry rider to report that troops had already been stationed at Jiangling and boats had been prepared to wait. The Master set out the next day. On the thirteenth, the Envoy arrived with troops to meet him. The Master asked, "Why have you come so late?" The officer explained that the roads had been blocked, so he had gone specially to Yanjing to join the army. To guard the east against Xin'an and the west against Changshan, Zhonglu had personally led troops to take Shenzhou and then Wuyi to open the roads. He had also built a bridge over the Hutuo River and gathered boats at Jiangling, which was why they had been delayed. The Master said, "Without you, this matter could not have been accomplished." The next day, the Master crossed the Hutuo River and traveled north.

On the twenty-second, the Master reached Lugou. Officials of the capital, scholars and commoners, Buddhist monks, and Daoist priests all went out to the suburbs to receive him. That day, the Master entered the city through Lize Gate. The Daoist priests formed ranks according to ritual and chanted in front to guide the way. The provincial official Shimo Gong arranged for the Master to lodge at the Yuxu Monastery. From then on, people who came to his door to request eulogies or ask for Daoist names arrived without end.

Wherever the Master went, his Daoist disciples often asked him to bestow names, and it is said that some people were thereby spared from the calamity of war. His moral virtue (De) and reputation also sheltered many people.

Commissioner Wang Juchuan, who was the Pacification Envoy, wrote a poem to see Qiu Chuji off, and the Perfected Qiu replied in verse: "Banners flutter and crack in the wind, and warhorses neigh mournfully. Looking north, the troops of Yan are crossing the stone bridge. I am about to travel ten thousand li beyond the desert. Barely three months of spring have passed, and now we part hurriedly, separated by seas and mountains and a long road. A friend departs for the frontier, and our companionship is like geese returning home. I bear the wind and frost, in a torn hat and worn robes, and still I must press on. Since the Perfected Yuanyuan went west, no one has been summoned to the Northern Court as he was, until now."

When Qiu Chuji heard that the traveling palace (xinggong) was gradually moving west, and since he was already old and weary of struggling through wind and frost, he wished to wait until the emperor returned to the capital before seeing him. Zhonglu then wanted to select women to accompany him, which troubled Qiu, who said: "When the state of Qi gave female musicians to the state of Lu, Confucius left Lu. I am only a mountain man. How could I travel together with women?" Thereupon Zhongsun ordered Helà to report the matter by fast courier, and Qiu also sent a man to present a memorial to the throne.

One day someone asked him to inscribe a colophon on Yan Liben's Painting of the Most High Crossing the Pass (Taishang Guoguan Tu). He wrote: "I journeyed west from the Shu commandery, and parted eastward at the Han Pass. If the many barbarians bow their heads in submission, the Great Dao will once again lay its foundations." His meaning was that, just as he had traveled west from Shu and taken leave at the pass to the east, if the peoples of the north would humbly submit, the Great Dao could be re-established among them.

He also wrote two verses (ji) for the assembly. The first reads: "Tangled affairs follow one another from dawn to dusk, and frivolous delusions have existed since antiquity. The mind is as empty as flowers reflected in the air, yet seems to exist and not exist." The second reads: "When affairs stir the emotions, one must be resolute and decisive; if they do not accord with the Dao, do not stray from the right path. Endure humiliation, subdue the restless mind of the monkey and the unruly will of the wild horse, and pass the years in peace." Here "monkey and horse" is a metaphor from cultivation practice, referring to the scattered and hard-to-control thoughts and dispositions (xingqing) of the mind.

In the early part of the fourth month, the assembly at Tianchang Monastery requested that a wangri jiao (a Daoist purification rite held around the fifteenth day of each lunar month, when the moon is full, to seek blessings) be performed. Qiu had intended to set out, but the people repeatedly pleaded with him, saying: "The war has not yet subsided, and many of the surviving people have been fortunate enough to meet the Perfected and to receive the protection of the Way. Yet the dead still sink for a long time in the dark netherworld, not yet delivered and released, which would surely leave a regret." Qiu agreed.

At that time a great drought had lasted for fourteen days. Once the ritual began, heavy rain poured down. The people feared the ceremony could not continue, but Qiu went to the altar in the afternoon to preside over the rite, and before long the sky cleared.

The crowd praised the master with delight: "First it rained, then it cleared, as if the weather bent to people's wishes. Were it not for someone of lofty cultivation of the Dao and profound De (Virtue), how could such a response have come about?"

The next day, the master ascended the Yuanbao Hall to transmit the precepts (jiefa). Several cranes came flying from the northwest, and everyone looked up to watch. As the precept certificates and other documents were burned, one of them suddenly rose into the sky and vanished, and five more cranes circled and danced overhead. The scholar-officials all said, "The master's utmost sincerity has moved Heaven and Earth." Zhang Tiandu, the Old Man of Nantang, courtesy name Zizhen, composed a rhapsody in praise of the event, and the others also wrote poems.

After the jiao (a Daoist rite of prayer to the gods) concluded, Envoy Liu followed the master northward. When they passed the Juyong Pass, a band of bandits met them north of the pass at night. The bandits all kowtowed and withdrew, saying, "Do not disturb our Father-Master."

In the fifth month, the master went to the Longyang Abbey in Dexing to escape the summer heat. From there they sent a poem to the scholar-officials of the capital at Yan (Yanjing):

"Where are those who have attained the Dao and become perfected? Riding the spirit raft (a legendary craft said to reach the Celestial River), they find scenic wonders in every direction. The azure cloud-peaks of heaven are clear and lovely; the vast waves and mirages of the sea are like the ordinary state of life. The mind roams the eight directions, though the road is long; so long as one accords with the Way of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing, the three highest deities revered in Daoism), the path ahead will not go astray. Even crossing the thirty-thousand-li Weak Water, one can in a moment soar and reach the realm of the immortals."

At that time, those in the capital who exchanged poems and visits with the master included Sun Zhou, courtesy name Chuqing; Yang Biao, courtesy name Zhongwen; Shi Xun, courtesy name Caiqing; Li Shiqian, courtesy name Zijin; Liu Zhong, courtesy name Yongzhi; Chen Shike, courtesy name Xiuyu; Wu Zhang, courtesy name Deming; Zhao Zhongli, courtesy name Zhengqing; Wang Rui, courtesy name Weiqing; Zhao Fang, courtesy name Dehui; and Sun Xi, courtesy name Tianxi. All of them were friends who shared poetry and prose with the master during the master's residence at the Yuxu Abbey. Wang Gou, courtesy name Fengchen, and Wang Zhi, courtesy name Qingfu, also associated with the master.

The Longyang Abbey lies on the south side of Mount Chanfang. Many grottoes and dwellings are in the mountain, and people who cultivate the Dao and seek the truth often live there. The master therefore led the group on an excursion. As they first entered the gorge, the master wrote: "A clear journey through the gorge, and a delight beyond measure; the peaks and ridges cross like halberd blades, steep and sharp."

Before reaching the Penglai paradise, we first saw the grotto-dwelling of the Daoist priests. Pine cones hung low in the autumn rain, and the stone tower leaned across the evening clouds. This brought to mind my days on Mount Zhongnan, and after leaving the Western Mountain, I could no longer see its end in my dreams.

The land here is level and high, sloping gently to the southeast, with a view stretching more than three hundred li. A few li east of the Daoist temple, a spring wells up from the flat ground, cool and pleasant. The master often traveled through this area and once wrote a poem about it:

In the afternoon I walk into the wind, under the sun,
Gazing at the distant mountains, where clouds lie slanted.
Ten thousand households roast in the summer heat,
Yet one clear stream chills them to the bone.
Travelers from the north often bring news,
People in the eastern fields come and go at ease, without quarrel.
(The plowman and the herd boy sit in the shade of the embankment, each yielding his seat to the other.)
After bathing in the stream, I sit in the forest,
Hair loose, robe open, freely voicing my cultivation of the Way.

On the Zhongyuan Festival (the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, an important day for the performance of Zhaijiao, or purification rituals in Daoism), the temple held a jiao rite. In the afternoon, while the Fulu (talismans and registers) and precepts were being transmitted, the elderly and the children sat out in the open. The weather was extremely hot, and everyone found it hard to bear. After a while, a cloud drifted in and hung over the crowd like a round canopy, lingering for a long time. Everyone leaped with joy and marveled.

The temple already had a well, whose ordinary water was enough to supply more than a hundred people. On this occasion, however, more than a thousand people attended, and the officiants were about to fetch water from elsewhere. For several days before this, the well water had been very hot, and everyone found it unbearable. After a while, a cloud drifted in and hung over the crowd like a round canopy, lingering for a long time. Everyone leaped with joy and marveled. The temple already had a well, whose ordinary water was enough to supply more than a hundred people. On this occasion, more than a thousand people attended, and the officiants were about to fetch water from elsewhere. After three consecutive days, the well water suddenly overflowed, and it could not be exhausted by use. The author holds that all of these were signs of fortunate causes and conditions and of Heaven's assistance.

After the jiao rite ended, the master wrote a poem:

Taishang (the Daoist honorific for the supreme deity), with vast compassion, rescues the myriad spirits,
And the living seek blessings by relying on the various scriptures.
The three Dantian (the upper, middle, and lower energy centers in Daoist teaching) guard a person's spirit and breath,
And all things revere the sun, moon, and stars.
I know my physical body is still bound by birth and death,
And cannot easily escape the discipline of liturgy and precepts to enter the formless realm.
For now I will cultivate according to the methods of the Beidou fasting rite
(the Southern and Northern Dou Zhaijiao are both names of Zhaijiao ceremonies),
And step by step ascend to the Fire-Refining Court of the Southern Palace
(a place of refinement in Daoist belief).

In early autumn, the master, at the request of Marshal Yila, the Military Commander of Xuande Prefecture, took up residence at the Chaoyuan Temple. On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, he wrote two pieces to the tune "Hesheng Chao." The first reads:

After the clouds disperse, they return to the mountain ridges,
The vast sky is clear and deep green,
And the round moon, like a precious mirror, has just risen.
Its bright radiance spreads wide and illuminates,
Flowing on and on, even beyond the shifting sands,
Reaching even to the Western Heaven.
In the human world, everywhere people are drunk with dreamlike joy,
Singing, dancing, and feasting in great merriment.

Within the Daoist school there is another kind of pure realm, one that awakens a person without their noticing. The first lyric runs: The clouds scatter and return to the mountain peaks; the high sky gathers its deep blue, and the full moon rises like a precious mirror. Its bright radiance spreads widely, reaching the sands of the desert and extending to the western heavens. Throughout the human world, people are intoxicated by a dreamlike life, enjoying song, dance, and banquets. Yet within the Daoist school there is another kind of purity, one that awakens the heart without people knowing it.

The second lyric runs: Deep within the grotto-heaven (dongtian), good friends gather together, their leisurely enthusiasm endless. The body soars up to the vermilion heavens and reaches straight to the Palace of Vast Cold (the lunar palace), quietly leaving the golden coins behind. The pure, empty radiance shines, and drowsiness dissipates with it; the jade hare appears pale and lovely within the moon. Sitting still, one forgets the scheming mind, and by contemplating and realizing one's original true Dao-nature, one lets oneself move freely within the dharma realm. Afterward the weather is cool and quiet, and the night is peaceful and at ease.

The master also composed two quatrains. The first says: The Silver River shines, the night is deep, the cold window is lonely, and all manner of thought grows still. The disputes of right and wrong throughout the world cannot reach here at all; in the Daoist's heart, only peace and ease remain.

The second says: The night is deep and the moon climbs higher, and the mountains and rivers seem to have vanished into fine dust. Only the original nature, in which Dao and De are still undivided, remains, moving up and down through the three heavens and returning countless times.

The Chaoyuan Abbey stands at the northwest corner of the prefectural city. Because of the two lines, "The disputes of right and wrong throughout the world cannot reach here at all; in the Daoist's heart, only peace and ease remain," and because of the second lyric, which describes the moonlit night, the patron and marshal, Lord Yila (Yílà), specially built a hall and enshrined the sacred images there. The cloister rooms and grottoes before and behind it were also completely renovated.

In the tenth month, just as the wall paintings for the Patriarch's Hall were about to be painted, the painters, seeing that the weather was cold, intended to stop work. The Perfected would not allow it, saying: "If Zou Yan (Zōu Yǎn) could blow his pitch pipes and warm a winter's frost, how much more so when sages give silent aid from the unseen realm?" That month the weather indeed turned warm as spring, with no wind or sand, and so the painters were able to complete the murals.

The poem says: In early spring, the frontier and the north are equally bitter with cold; flying stones and rolling sand, and great winds that shake the earth. The wild geese flying south droop their wings and hurry southward; travelers heading north are exhausted, and their journey is hard. I arrived here in the tenth month, when the frost was still light, and people were astonished that the waterways among the thousand mountains were still clear. If not for this warmth like early spring, how would Heaven have come to help us build this painted hall?

Shortly afterward, Arixian came from the tent of Prince Ochin to invite Master Qiu Chuji to visit him. Governor Wang Juchuan, the Pacifying Commissioner, also arrived and said, "By order of the Prince, if the Perfected travels west, please be sure to pass through my territory." The Perfected (Zhenren) nodded in agreement.

That month, the Perfected made a journey north to view Mount Wang. Hela returned after delivering a memorial and brought with him an imperial edict, which read:

"Emperor Genghis addresses Master Qiu:

"Your Perfected's cultivation of the Dao surpasses that of the Three Sages, and your moral reputation is profound. You departed from Penglai in a cloud carriage and soared on a crane to wander toward India. Bodhidharma traveled far to the east to transmit the Dharma through the mind, and Laozi went west, where legend says he converted the barbarians and attained the Dao. Though the road is long, when I look toward your Perfected's journey, it seems not so distant. I write this reply to convey my sentiments. In the season of autumn heat, I hope the Perfected has been well of late. I will say no more; I hold you in deep respect."

The Emperor further instructed Liu Zhonglu: "Do not let the Perfected go hungry or suffer hardship. You may support and attend to him, and let him come along at his own pace."

The Perfected discussed the matter with the Imperial Envoy, saying, "The road ahead is already cold, the sandy path is long, and the provisions our Daoist companions need have not yet been fully gathered. It would be better to first go to Longyang and set out again in the spring." The Envoy agreed.

On the eighteenth day, the Perfected traveled south to Longyang. Fellow Daoists came to see him off, and many shed tears. The Perfected composed a poem to show the assembly:

"To part while we are alive is still bearable; to be separated forever after death is harder to endure. The right and wrong of the world are hard to settle, and the human heart is hard to steady; the suffering of the cycle of birth and death is truly unbearable."

The following day, the Perfected arrived at Longyang Abbey, where he spent the winter. On the fourteenth day of the eleventh month, he was invited to a purification ritual (zhaizhai) at Longyan Temple, and on the western corridor wall of the hall he inscribed a poem:

"Leaning on my staff of wild grass, I meant to seek out a hermit in the mountains, but found the water and sky still and their colors faint and distant. Last night, snow fell heavily on the cliffs; today the mountain hues reflect the sky, all pure white. The sky is high and the sun rises; a clear breeze drifts through the pines. My spirit roams across the eight directions, soaring through the void, clear and expansive."

Here, "Three Sages" refers to three ancient figures renowned for their virtue or learning, and "cloud carriage" and "crane-drawn" are descriptions of the travels of immortals.

In trying to depict the real texture of life for a Daoist in the mountains, the daily routine proves hard to put into words. In the twelfth month he wrote a poem to his Daoist friends in Yanjing:

"This journey has been truly difficult, and at parting there is much to say. Northward I crossed Wild Fox Ridge, westward I reached Heavenly Horse Village. From Yin Mountain no mirage is visible, and on the White Grass Plain there are only battlefields of sand. I sigh that I am no Primal Sage, the most perfect of sages in virtue and wisdom, so how could I not travel to every remote and desolate land?"

He added:

"If anyone in the capital is holding a farewell banquet for me, the farewell poem should have been sent when I left Longyang for the frontier. In the past, when we parted, we would lie down on the bed and take off our shoes to say goodbye. Now that I am setting out, there are no dream-souls following me, no lingering reluctance to part."

He wrote again to his Yanjing friends:

"Ten years of war have left the people in sorrow, and of every thousand households, only one or two remain. Last year I was fortunate to encounter the emperor's gracious edict, and this spring I should venture out despite the bitter cold. I do not fear traveling three thousand li, crossing beyond the northern ridges, yet my thoughts remain with the Daoist companions in the two hundred prefectures of Shandong. In hardship and difficulty, though I have only a breath left, I hope soon to preserve my life and dispel my worries."

On the fifteenth day of the first month of the year xinsi, the Festival of Shangyuan, he held a jiao (purification ritual) at the Shangyuan Abbey in Xuande Prefecture, and recited a eulogy to the assembly:

"A human being at birth is nothing more than a lump of foul-smelling matter, from which arise the disputes and afflictions of the Three Realms (the Desire Realm, the Form Realm, and the Formless Realm). Kin and branches are bound together in endless toil, and from antiquity to the present no one has been able to escape them."

On the eighth day of the second month he set out. The day was clear, and the Daoist companions from Yanjing saw him off at the western suburbs. They blocked his horse's head, weeping, and said, "Father and Master, you are going far beyond ten thousand li. When will we see you again and pay our respects to you?"

The Master replied, "So long as your hearts in the Dao remain firm, there will certainly be a day of meeting again."

The crowd, still weeping, pressed further: "But when exactly will that be?"

The Master said, "Departing and remaining are not things a person can arrange. Moreover, on this journey into foreign lands, whether the roads will be passable and whether affairs will go smoothly are still uncertain."

The companions said, "Does the Master truly not know? Please tell your disciples in advance."

Unable to refuse them, he finally said again, "Three years from now I will return. Three years from now I will return."

On the tenth day he stayed at Cuipingkou.

The next day we crossed Wild Fox Ridge and climbed high to look south, where the peaks of the Taihang Mountains spread out below us. On clear days the mists among the mountains were especially beautiful. Looking back to the north, there was only cold sand and withered grass. From then on we were cut off from the scenes of the Central Plains. The mind of a Daoist cultivator (Daoshi) can find ease wherever it is.

Song Defang and the others pointed at the white bones on the battlefield and said, "When I return, I will hold a Golden Register Zhaijiao (jinlu zhaijiao, a purification ritual for blessing and deliverance) for them." This too was one of the karmic connections of my northward journey.

Continuing north past Fu Prefecture, on the fifteenth day we crossed Gaili Lake toward the northeast. The road rose and fell across saline-alkali land, and only there did we see more than twenty households. To the south lay salt marshes that stretched winding toward the northeast. From this point on there were no rivers, and people mostly dug sand wells for water. For thousands of li to the north and south there were no great mountains. After five days on horseback we left the Mingchang border. I composed a poem to record what we saw along the way:

The road rises and winds, everywhere salt flats and dead bays of standing water. All day we meet no travelers, and only now and then a horse appears after a long wait. No trees grow on the ground, only wild grass; the hills rise naturally in every direction, yet there are no high mountains. Here the five grains will not grow, so the people live on curds and milk, and in fur coats and felt tents they still find their own contentment.

After six or seven more days, we suddenly entered the great sand dunes (guangkuo de shadi, a vast expanse of sand). Short elm trees grew in the sand, their thick trunks needing two people to encircle them. Traveling northeast for more than a thousand li, even after leaving the sands, we could see no trees at all.

On the first day of the third month we emerged from the sands and reached Yu'er Lake, where we at last found villages of people living together, mostly farming and fishing for a living. By then Qingming had passed, yet the spring still seemed very far away, and the ice had not yet melted. I composed a poem:

The cold of the north has been famous since ancient times; in the third month the sands still hold their ice unmelted. I wish to seek out Ruoshi (a legendary immortal), to become a yellow crane (huanghu, a divine bird like a great wild goose), and to watch the great fish, once its cultivation is complete, transform into a great roc. Su Wu was sent to the north and nearly died of grief; Li Ling gazed southward and found no road home. Now I mean to follow Lu Ao (a legendary seeker of immortality) and strive to probe the most profound principles of the Dao.

On the fifth day of the third month we set out toward the northeast. In every direction, far off, we could see human habitations, their dwellings black carts and white felt tents, the people moving with the water and pasture as they herded their animals. Before our eyes stretched only plains and low, damp ground, without a single tree. Looking all around, we saw nothing but yellow sand and white withered grass.

Continuing along the original direction, they travelled for more than twenty days before coming upon a sandy river. Its waters flowed northwest to join the Lujü River. The river was deep enough to wet a horse's belly, and thickets of willows grew along its banks. After crossing it, they continued north for three days and entered a small desert.

On the first day of the fourth month, they arrived at the encampment of Great King Wuchen (Ughchen). The ice had only just begun to melt, and the grass had barely started to sprout. A wedding was being celebrated locally, and chieftains from within five hundred li had come bringing mare's milk liquor (mǎ dōng) to add to the festivities. Black carts and felt tents were arranged in rows, several thousand in all.

On the seventh day, Master Changchun met the King, who asked him about the Way of prolonging life (yánshēng). The Master replied that one must first observe fasting and purification (zhāijiè) before receiving such teachings, and so they set the fifteenth day for the transmission. When that day came, heavy snow fell and the transmission was called off. The King then said, "The Emperor has sent people on a journey of ten thousand li to invite the Master to inquire about the Dao. How could I dare to get ahead of the Emperor? I have already instructed Arisian (Ali Xian) that, once he has paid his respects to the Master, he must escort the Master through this place on his eastward return."

On the seventeenth day, the King presented the Master with more than a hundred oxen and horses and ten carts, and sent him on his way. The party traveled northwest. On the twenty-second day they reached the Lujü River. Its waters gathered like a sea, spanning several hundred li. Wind and waves had washed large fish onto the shore, and each of the Mongols picked up a few. The company followed the south bank of the river westward, and along the way they found wild leeks to eat.

On the first day of the fifth month, at midday, a solar eclipse occurred: after the sunlight was obscured, the stars became visible, and after a while the sun brightened again. At the time, the party was on the south bank of the river. The eclipse began to cover the sun from the southwest and reappeared from the northeast. The local mornings were cool and the evenings hot, and many yellow flowers bloomed across the grassland. The river flowed northeast, and tall willows lined both banks, from which the Mongols cut timber to build their houses and felt tents.

Sixteen days' travel brought us to a river that wound around the mountains to the northwest, and we could not trace it to its source. Heading southwest, we reached a post station, where the Mongols said with delight, "We heard the year before last that the master was coming." They presented five dou of millet, and Qiu Chuji (Changchun Zhenren, the Perfected of Lasting Spring) returned the gift with a dou of jujubes. The man was overjoyed. Saying he had never seen such a thing, he danced in thanks and departed.

Ten more days brought us to the summer solstice. We measured the shadow of the sun and found it to be three chi and six or seven cun long. Lofty mountains gradually came into view. From here westward the hills grew more numerous and the population denser. The local people all live in black carts and white tents, making their living by herding and hunting. They wear furs and felt, and eat meat and cheese.

The men bind their hair and let it hang beside their ears. The women wear tall hats of birch bark, about two chi high, usually covered with dark brown cloth, while wealthy families cover them with red silk. The ends of the hats resemble a goose or duck and are called gugu. The locals strongly taboo others touching their hats, and when entering or leaving a tent, one must lower the head and stoop.

The region has no books or written script. People sometimes make verbal agreements and sometimes carve wooden tallies as proof. When they have food, they share it together, and when they face danger, they rush to help one another. When given a charge, they do not refuse, and their promises are not lightly altered, preserving the customs of high antiquity. The author describes the local scene in verse:

Gazing out, the mountains and rivers have no end, the wind and mist never cease, and the rivers flow on forever.

Why did Heaven and Earth open up such a place? Arriving here, one wishes to let horses and cattle roam free to graze.

The custom of drinking blood and eating raw meat seems to belong to high antiquity, and the way they bind their hair and wear hats differs from the Central Plains.

No sage has come here to carry out moral instruction. Generations have come and gone freely, each living at ease.

Four more stages of travel brought us northwest across the Yellow River to a plain. The surrounding mountains and rivers are beautiful, with lush grass and water. To the east and west stand ancient cities. Their foundations look freshly built, their streets and lanes are clearly laid out, and their architectural styles resemble those of the Central Plains. However, there are no inscribed steles by which to verify their dates. Some say these cities were built by the Khitan.

This city has no inscribed stele from which its date of construction can be determined. Some say it was built by the Khitan. Later, ancient roof tiles were dug up from the ground, bearing Khitan script. From this, it seems likely that the city was built by Khitan warriors who refused to submit after the fall of the Liao dynasty, when they migrated westward. Another account holds that traveling southwest from here, at a distance of more than ten thousand li from Xunsigan (Samarkand), there is a place considered the finest in the Huihe (Uyghur) kingdom, where the Khitan once established their capital and which saw seven generations of rulers.

On the thirteenth day of the sixth month, the caravan reached Changsong Ridge and camped beyond it. Pine and cypress grew thick and towering there, blocking out the sky. They mostly grew in the gullies on the northern side of the mountain and were rare on the southern side. On the fourteenth, they crossed the ridge and forded a shallow river. The cold was so severe that even the strong could scarcely endure it, and that night they camped on level ground.

On the fifteenth, they rose at dawn to find thin ice around the tents. Three frosts had already fallen, and the river had formed ice floes, as cold as deep winter. The locals said that in past years there had often been snow in the fifth and sixth months, and that this year was considered clear and mild. The Master renamed this mountain "Great Cold Ridge." Rain here was often accompanied by hail, and the mountain paths wound and coiled.

Continuing northwest for more than a hundred li, then turning further northwest, they first caught sight of level ground. There was a stone river stretching over fifty li, its banks more than ten zhang deep. The water was clear and pleasant, its sound like jade striking jade. On the steep cliffs grew green onions three or four chi tall, and the pines above the mountain streams were over ten zhang high. To the west, mountains stretched on, with tall pines lush and green. Crossing the mountains for five or six days, peaks and roads kept turning, forests and ridges were lovely and luxuriant, and streams flowed beneath the mountains. On the level ground, pines, birches, and other mixed trees grew interlaced, looking like a place where people lived.

Before long, the caravan climbed a high ridge. The terrain was like a long rainbow, with sheer cliffs rising. Looking down at the haizi (alpine lake) below, its waters were so deep they were startling. On the twenty-eighth, the caravan halted east of Wolidou.

On the twenty-eighth day, the company halted for the night east of the Ordu (a Mongolian word meaning "imperial camp"). The Imperial Commissioner went ahead to report to the Empress, and was ordered to invite Qiu Chuji across the river. The river flowed northeast, its surface broad, and it was deep enough to reach the axles of the carts, so the party had to ford it on foot. After entering the camp, the carts were parked on the south bank, where hundreds upon hundreds of tents stood. Each day they were served ghee, cheese, and other foods. The Princesses of Han and Xia also sent sweets such as hanju; a dou of millet was worth ten taels of silver, and fifty taels could buy eighty jin of wheat flour. This was because the flour was carried by camel from more than two thousand li west of the Yin Mountains, transported by Central Asian merchants. In the height of summer there were no flies in the tents. The Ordu is what the Chinese call the imperial camp. From a distance, the carriages, pavilions, and tents appeared orderly and magnificent, a display that not even the great chanyu of ancient times could match.

On the ninth day of the seventh month, my companion the Imperial Envoy and I travelled southwest for five or six days. We often saw snow on the mountain peaks and graves at their feet. After climbing to higher ground, we also came upon the remains of shrines for worshipping spirits. Continuing for two or three more days, we passed a mountain whose peaks were as steep as if cut with a blade, dense with pines and firs, and containing lakes. Leaving a great gorge to the south, we came to a river flowing west. On the north bank of the river, miscellaneous trees grew thickly, and along the road the leeks flourished like fragrant grasses, stretching for dozens of li. To the north stood an ancient city called Hela Xiao. We then crossed some twenty li of sandy ground to the southwest, where water and grass were scarce. Only afterward did we see the Uyghurs digging channels to irrigate their wheat fields.

After another five or six days, we crossed a mountain ridge to the south and reached a Mongol encampment, where we spent the night in a felt tent. The next morning we set out again, winding along the mountain road to the south. Seeing snow on the distant peaks, I composed the following poem to record the journey:

In the year when Siddhartha attained enlightenment and set out on his journey, he first arrived at Yanzi City (that is, Fuzhou).

Going north to the great river takes about three months (the great river here is the Lujü River, reached at the end of the fourth month, a distance of over two thousand li);

Going west to the land of snow takes about half a year (referring to this mountain country before us, where snow lies year-round; eastward to the Lujü River is some five thousand li, reached at the end of the seventh month).

According to the scripture, when Master Changchun traveled west, the place he passed on the way should have been the Lujuhe (Lu Ju River). By the end of the fourth month he had covered more than two thousand li. Farther west lay snow-capped mountains where the snow never melts, and from there back east to the Lujuhe was about five thousand li, which would not be reached until the end of the seventh month.

"Huifeng yin di" (Returning Wind Hides the Earth) is the name of a Daoist technique, daofa (Daoist arts), which legend credits with the power to hide beneath the earth or climb the heavens and conceal oneself among the stars. The text says that even when such an art is practiced, one can still only advance into the wind. However fast one hurries, upon reaching the place where mountains end and rivers run dry, the setting sun still sinks in the west as it always does.

The post-station staff told the Master that north of the snowy mountains lay Balaghasun, under the jurisdiction of Tian Zhenhai. In Chinese, "Balaghasun" means "city," and since the city held granaries, it was also called "Cangtou" (Granary Head).

On the twenty-fifth day of the seventh month, many Han Chinese artisans came forward one after another to greet him. Everyone bowed joyfully, leading the way with colored banners, canopies, and fragrant flowers. Emperor Zhangzong's two consorts, Lady Tudan and Lady Jiagu, along with Lady Yuan, mother of the Han Chinese princess and known as Lady Qinsheng, also came weeping to welcome the Master. They told him, "We have long heard that your Dao and De (Virtue) are exalted, and we have always regretted not being able to see you. We never expected to meet you here by chance."

The next day, Zhenhai of the northern Abuhan Mountains came to pay his respects. The Master said to him, "I am already very old. Because the emperor twice issued edicts urgently requesting my presence, I had to travel thousands of li to reach your territory. Most people in the desert region do not make farming their livelihood, so I am glad to see that the autumn crops here have ripened. I would like to spend the winter here and set out after the emperor's return. What do you think?"

The envoy Zhonglu replied, "Since Father Master has already decided, Zhonglu dares neither agree nor object. I can only ask Lord Zhenhai to consider the matter." Zhenhai said, "Recently the court ordered local officials that when the Master passes through, no one may delay his journey, because the emperor wishes to see the Master as soon as possible. If Father Master stays here, I fear I will be held to account for it. I am willing to accompany you personally, and I will provide everything the Master needs." The Master replied, "Since our connection is such, I will set out in ten days."

Qiu Chuji said, "Ahead lie towering mountains and low, muddy marshes, which are unsuitable for carts. We should reduce the number of vehicles and let the men travel light on horseback." The group followed his advice, leaving nine disciples, including Song Dao'an, to choose a site and build a temple there.

Many people came without being summoned. The able-bodied labored, craftsmen applied their skills, and the wealthy donated goods and money. The Sacred Hall, the fangzhang (the abbot's quarters, where the head of the temple lived and received guests), the kitchen to the east, the corridor halls to the west, and the yunfang (cloud chambers, the residences of the daoshi, or Daoist priests) on either side were soon completed. The buildings had no tiles and were made of earth and timber. Within a month the construction was finished, and the temple was named Qixia Guan (Temple of the Rosy Mists).

At that time the millet and sorghum were still standing in the fields, and frost had already fallen in early autumn. Local residents were busy rushing to harvest their wheat. A strong wind blew from the northern mountains toward the west, and yellow sand darkened the sky so thickly that one could not tell east from west. Qiu Chuji composed a poem lamenting this: "I have wandered in every direction, traveling east, west, north, and south, always lost on the road and tossed about in the dust of the world. Now my white hair is growing thin and I can hardly bear it, yet I set out again across the yellow sand on a distant journey. As long as I am not yet dead, let me see this world; what remains of my life has no share in natural delight. I have traveled through most of the four mountains and five peaks, and when I have flown across the eight directions, I will return to the realm of the immortals."

On the eighth day, Qiu Chuji set out with more than ten disciples, including Xujing Xiansheng (Master of Stillness) Zhao Jiugu. They were accompanied by two carts and more than twenty Mongol post riders. Herald Liu and Lord Zhenhai also set out with over a hundred cavalrymen. Zhenhai's attendant, Li Jianu, said, "When we passed beneath this mountain before, a mountain spirit cut off the hair at the back of my head, and I was terrified." Zhenhai also said that the Naiman king had once been bewitched by a mountain spirit here, who entertained him with delicacies. Qiu Chuji listened in silence and did not reply.

After about three days traveling southwest, the group turned southeast, crossed the great mountains, and passed through a deep gorge. On the day of the Mid-Autumn Festival they reached the northeast of the Golden Mountain, paused briefly, and then continued south. The terrain there was high and steep, with deep valleys and long slopes, and the carts could not pass.

The Third Prince led the army forward, first sending one hundred cavalrymen ahead to pull the cart shafts with ropes. After about four stages of travel, they crossed five successive mountain ridges, emerged in front of the mountains heading south, and halted by a river. The accompanying officials pitched their tents near water and grass to rest and waited for the Niupu relay riders (couriers who used oxen, horses, and other draft animals to carry documents and transport personnel between post stations). After several days, the column resumed its journey.

Along the way, there were three poems. The first reads: "The autumn wind of the eighth month is cool and pleasant, and the evening sky is clear and blue. How could one not be moved? I long to chant verses in praise of this scene, but lack the talent, and can only face the Golden Mountain and the bright moon." The second reads: "A great river flows south of the Golden Mountain, its winding course well suited to admiring the autumn scenery. The autumn waters reflect the dusk, and the mountain moon rises. Alone, I chant softly and whistle long, facing moonlight as bright as a pearl." The third reads: "The Golden Mountain is vast, yet it does not rise alone. Mountain ranges stretch on every side and coil firmly around it. Its peaks cut across the horizon, and the trees among them tower into the clouds, blotting out the sun, while sounds echo unexpectedly through the forest."

After crossing the river and heading south, they passed a small mountain whose rocks bore five different colors. Not a single blade of grass grew along its sides, and it stretched for seventy li from end to end. Two red mountains then blocked the road. After another thirty li, they reached a stretch of saline-alkali land. There was only a single small sand well, so the column stopped to draw water and drink. Some green grass grew beside the well, and the horses mostly rested and trampled there.

The envoy and Zhenhai discussed the matter, saying, "This is the most difficult stretch of the road. What does Your Lordship intend to do?" Your Lordship replied, "I have known of this place for a long time." Together they went to consult Qiu Chuji. Qiu Chuji said, "Ahead lies the Bone-White Plain, where the ground is entirely black stone. After about two hundred-odd li, you will reach the northern edge of the Sand Slope, where there is still a fair amount of water and grass. Beyond that lies a great sand slope of more than one hundred li. It stretches east and west over a width that no one can measure, perhaps thousands of li. Only upon reaching the city of the Uighurs will you find water and grass again."

Qiu Chuji asked, "What is the Bone-White Plain? How could there be water and grass there?" Your Lordship answered, "It is an ancient battlefield. When exhausted soldiers arrive there, not one in ten returns alive. It is a place of death. Not long ago, the Naiman leader Tayang was also defeated there."

On clear days, when travelers journeyed during the daytime, both people and horses often collapsed from exhaustion. Only by setting out in the evening and traveling through the night could we cover half the distance. By the next morning we would reach water and grass. After a brief rest, we waited until afternoon to continue, crossing more than a hundred li of sand ridges, where the rough, undulating road felt like sailing through huge waves. After another day, between chen and si (roughly 7 to 11 a.m.), we reached the city.

Traveling at night was suitable, though we worried that in the dim light, mountain spirits and demons (legendary ghosts and monsters) might cause trouble. We should smear blood on the horses' heads to ward off evil. The Master smiled and said, "Evil spirits and demonic ghosts keep their distance from upright people. This principle is recorded in the books, and who does not know it? Why should a cultivator of the Way (Dao) worry about such things?"

By evening, the caravan set out. The oxen could go no further, so everyone left them by the roadside and switched to six horses to pull the carts. From then on, oxen were no longer used.

Earlier, when we were north of Shatuo, we looked south and saw what appeared to be silver clouds along the horizon. When we asked those beside us, no one could say what they were. The Master said, "Perhaps it is Yin Mountain." The next day, after passing Shatuo, we met woodcutters and asked them, and they also said it was Yin Mountain.

Along the way, I composed a poem:

"High above, like clouds, pure white as sand, how could one gazing from afar know it was only a trick of the eyes? Gradually I see jade dust heaped upon the peaks, and from afar the mountain foot reflects silver light. The range stretches across the sky for a thousand li, lighting the earth and mirroring walls and ten thousand homes. From antiquity to now it surely has not changed; I chant to record this scene and praise it toward the south."

On the twenty-seventh day of the eighth month, our party reached the area behind Yin Mountain, where the local Huihu (an ancient people active in the Western Regions) came out to the outskirts to greet us. We arrived north of a small town, where the chieftain held a banquet, laying out grape wine, precious fruits, flatbread, and hun cong (a local type of onion). He also tore off a foot of Persian cloth to present to us. The chieftain said, "This is Hezhou, three hundred li before Yin Mountain. The weather here is very hot, and grapes are produced in great abundance."

On the second day, the group followed the river westward and passed two small towns, both of which had residents. The wheat and millet had just ripened. The land received little rain, so the crops depended entirely on spring water for irrigation before they could yield a harvest. Farther west stood the great city of Bisima, where kings, officials, scholars, common people, and several hundred monks and Daoist priests arranged ceremonial guards and came out from afar to welcome the travelers.

The monks wore ochre-colored robes, while the Daoist priests' garments and headwear differed from those of the Central Plains. The group was lodged in a pavilion in the grape garden west of the city. Members of the Uighur king's family urged them to drink grape wine, and they presented rare flowers, assorted fruits, and precious spices. They also arranged for dwarf performers to put on song and dance, all of whom were from the Central Plains. The local scholars and common people showed even greater respect to the visitors. Among those seated with them were monks, Daoist priests, and Confucian scholars, so the travelers took the opportunity to ask about local customs.

They said, "This is the place where the Beiting Duhufu, the seat of the Protectorate General of the Tang dynasty, was located. In the second year of the Jinglong era, Yang, the Grand Protector, governed here with virtuous rule, and the various peoples submitted to him. His grace has reached down through later generations, and people still benefit from it today. The Longxing Temple and the Western Temple still preserve two stone inscriptions recording his merits, which are clear and impressive. A Buddhist scripture is also kept in the temple. Many of the border cities of the Tang dynasty still exist today. A few hundred li to the east is a prefecture called Xiliang, and a little over three hundred li to the west is a county called Luntai."

The master asked, "How much farther must we travel before we reach the imperial encampment (xingzai), where the emperor stays?" The people replied, "Continue southwest for more than ten thousand li, and you will arrive."

That night, wind and rain rose violently. Beyond the garden stood a large tree, and the master wrote a poem for the group to read:

We lodge beneath the foot of Yinshan,

where the night is still and cold.

The vast sky is darkened by clouds,

and the great tree's leaves rustle sadly.

The road ahead is long, a full ten thousand li;

though it is the depth of winter, the weather remains mild.

Let the whole body be released,

and drift with the wind like a severed weed.

On the second day of the ninth month, the group continued west. On the fourth day, they stopped to the east of Luntai, where the chief of the Diexie people came out to greet them. Looking south, they saw the three peaks of Yinshan rising steeply, seeming to lean against the sky.

Qiu Chuji then composed a poem and presented it to the scholar Li Boxiang, a native of Xiangzhou. The poem reads:

Three peaks stand side by side, thrusting into the frigid clouds. Four cliff walls spread outward, encircling a winding mountain stream. The snowy ridges rise as if they join the sky, beyond the reach of ordinary people. The ice pool reflects the sunlight, its scenery extraordinary and rarely seen by the worldly. (The locals say that when one gazes at this ice pool, one's spirit-consciousness (shen) grows dim.) The mountain cliffs are steep and secluded, a place to escape the wars of the age. The springs run abundantly, enough to irrigate the parched fields, so the crops are bountiful every year. This place ranks first among the northern regions, yet no one has been able to paint it.

Later, the group passed two more cities. On the Double Ninth Festival, they reached Changbala, a city of the Uighurs (Huihe). Its king, Weiwu'er, had long been on friendly terms with Zhenhai, so he led his people and Uighur monks a great distance to welcome them. After entering the city, Qiu Chuji received a vegetarian meal (zhai fan) on a platform. Then the king's consort urged him to drink grape wine and offered him watermelons. The watermelons were so large they had to be weighed on a scale, and the muskmelons were as big as pillows, with a fragrance and flavor unlike anything in the Central Plains. The vegetables in the gardens, however, were the same as those of the Central Plains.

Some monks came to sit with them, and Qiu Chuji had his interpreter ask what scriptures they studied. The monks replied that they had shaved their heads, taken the vows of renunciation, and regarded the worship of the Buddha as the teaching of their practice. Presumably because the lands to the east of this area once belonged to the Tang dynasty, there were no Daoist priests farther west, and the Uighurs worshipped only the Buddha of the West.

The next day, they traveled west along the Yin Mountains for about ten days and then crossed a sandy desert. The sand was fine and soft, shifting with the wind like startled waves, gathering and scattering. Nothing grew there, carts sank into the sand, and horses struggled to move. It took a full day and night to get through. This was the great sand desert of the Bones Field (Baigu Dian).

The sand desert bordered the foothills of the Yin Mountains to the south. After crossing it, they traveled another five days and lodged on the north side of the Yin Mountains. At dawn the next day they headed south and climbed a long slope of seventy or eighty li, stopping only at dusk. The weather was bitterly cold, and there was no water. Early the following morning, they traveled southwest for about thirty li when they suddenly came upon a great lake nearly two hundred li in circumference, ringed by snowy peaks whose reflections lay upon its waters. Qiu Chuji named this lake "Heavenly Pool" (Tianchi).

Head due south along the pond, and the peaks on both sides rise steep and high, with dense, deep stands of pine and birch taller than a hundred feet. There is no water on the mountain, though. Setting out at dawn and heading southwest for some thirty li, we suddenly came upon a great lake nearly two hundred li around, encircled by snowy peaks whose reflections lay on its surface. Qiu Chuji named it the "Heavenly Pool."

Heading south along the Heavenly Pool, the peaks on both sides remained lofty, and the pines and birches grew from the summits all the way down to the foot of the mountains, in their thousands upon thousands. Streams from every direction converged into the gorge, surging and roaring as they wound through its bends, a gorge some sixty or seventy li long. The Second Prince of the Mongols (a Mongol imperial son who accompanied the western campaign) had cut a stone road and felled timber to build bridges for the army, constructing forty-eight bridges in all, wide enough for carts to pass side by side. At dusk the company lodged within the gorge, and only on the following day did they emerge from it into a broad valley traversed by two great rivers flowing east and west, where water was abundant and grass and trees flourished. The weather was as warm as spring, and here and there mulberry and jujube trees grew.

After another stretch of travel, on the twenty-seventh day of the ninth month they reached the city of Alimari. The King of the Pushman kingdom and the Mongol official Tarakhuzhi led the people of their various districts out to greet them, and Qiu Chuji's party was lodged in the West Orchard. The local people call fruit "alimari," and since there was an abundance of fruit here, the city was named Alimari.

The region produces a cloth called "turumā," which the locals say is woven from the wool of a particular breed of sheep. At that time Qiu Chuji's party received seven bolts of this fabric, which they used as protection against the cold, and they found its texture comparable to the woolen textiles of China. The white, soft, fine catkins can be spun into thread and twisted into cord, or woven into cloth or pressed into batting. The farmers also dig channels to lead water into their fields. In everyday life the locals fetch water only with jars, carrying them home balanced on their heads. Upon seeing the water-drawing implements of the people of the Central Plains, they exclaimed happily, "The Tabgach (here referring to the Han Chinese) are skillful at everything they do."

On the journey from the Golden Mountain to this place, Qiu Chuji recorded his route in a poem:

"East of the Golden Mountain, west of the Yin Mountains,

Between a thousand peaks and ten thousand ravines, deep streams lie across the land.

Jagged stones block the banks, and since ancient times no carts or horses could pass.

Last year the army marched out, and the Second Prince built roads and bridges, opening the valleys (the Third Prince built the Golden Mountain route, the Second Prince the Yin Mountain route).

This year I journey west, with carts and people thronging, and once again I pass through here."

The mountains rose like silver peaks and iron walls, ridge upon ridge, as if vying with one another for height, and they looked exceptionally lofty and majestic. Viewed from the summit by day, the sea seemed very near. On moonlit nights, when one climbed high to gaze far off, it seemed one might connect with the Milky Way. Pines soared into the clouds, as straight as brush shafts and so dense that each often stood over a hundred chi (Chinese feet) tall. Ten thousand pines leaned against one another, lush and dark-green. Within the mountains all was silent, and not even birdsong could be heard.

The mountain roads here were winding and narrow, so steep that they made the sheep-gut path and Mengmen Gorge seem trifling, and even the Taihang Mountains would not compare. Two carts went up and down, jolting with great difficulty, and the hundred cavalrymen before and behind were all uneasy and alarmed. At the summit lay the Celestial Pool, its waters as broad as a sea. Its surface, a hundred li across, was like a bright mirror reflecting all things. On the descent, the carts had to be secured and the horses tethered. The route ran westward down the mountain, crossing forty-eight bridges, and beneath each bridge yawned an abyss ten thousand zhang deep.

The mountain ranges of the Henan and Haibei regions stretched on without end. Though their forms varied endlessly, their general layout was alike. This mountain was especially perilous, with jagged boulders and sheer, upthrust cliffs, as if wrought by divine craftsmanship. When I arrived, it was the eighth or ninth month, and everything above the mountainside was already covered in snow. Before the mountain, the plants and trees were warm as spring. Behind it, the cold was as hard as iron, and even the bedding felt icy.

We continued west for four more days and reached Dalasu-Müren ("Müren" is the local term for a river). The river was deep and wide, flowing northwest and cutting across Yin Mountain from the east. On its southern bank lay another range of snowy mountains. On the second day of the tenth month, the company crossed the river by boat and travelled south to a great mountain, at whose northern foot stood a small town.

We continued west for five more days, when the envoy sent by imperial decree to receive us arrived with his retinue. He said the xingzai (the place where the emperor temporarily stayed) was drawing near, and that he had first dispatched riders to report our approach. Only Lord Zhenhai accompanied the Perfected (Zhenren) onward to the west. On the seventh day, the company crossed a mountain to the southwest and met an envoy of Eastern Xia (Dongxia) who was returning home and had come to meet us. He bowed to the Perfected before his tent and asked when he had left the court. The envoy replied that when he left the court on the twelfth day of the seventh month, the emperor was leading his troops in pursuit of Sultan Khan and had already chased him as far as the region of India.

The next day we met heavy snow, and the company reached a small Uighur town (a term used in ancient times for certain peoples of Central Asia and the surrounding regions). The snow lay a foot deep but melted as soon as the sun came out. On the sixteenth day, the company travelled southwest past Banqiao, crossed a river, and by evening reached the foot of the Southern Mountain, where Great Shi Linya (“Dashi” was his childhood name, and “Linya” an official title) dwelt. He was a descendant of the Liao imperial house. After the Jin army destroyed the Liao dynasty, Dashi Linya led a portion of his troops...

On the sixteenth day we traveled southwest, passed through Banqiao, crossed a river, and reached the foot of the Southern Mountain by evening. This was the place of Dashi Linya. "Dashi" was his personal name, and "Linya" his official title; he had originally been a member of the Liao imperial clan. After the Jin army destroyed the Liao state, Linya led several thousand people northwest in flight, and it took more than ten years of migration before they arrived here. The local climate and customs differed from those north of the Golden Mountains. There were many level plains, and the people made their living through farming, raising silkworms, and planting mulberry trees. They brewed wine from grapes, and the fruit was the same as that found in China. In summer and autumn it often failed to rain, so people dredged channels and diverted water for irrigation before the crops could be harvested. To the northeast and southwest, mountains and rivers stretched for ten thousand li. This state endured for several hundred years.

Later, Naiman lost its own territory and, attaching itself to Dashi, rebuilt its forces and seized local land. The Sultan pressed westward to strip away its territory; when the Heavenly Troops arrived, Naiman was soon destroyed, and the Sultan fell with it. We also heard that the road ahead was full of obstacles. By chance one of our carts broke down, so we stayed behind.

On the eighteenth day we followed the mountains westward. After seven or eight days, the mountain ridge suddenly turned south, and a stone city blocked the road. Its stones were all red, and traces of an old garrison remained. West of the city lay a great field of burial mounds, arranged like the stars of the Dou lunar mansion and linked one to another. We crossed a stone bridge again and followed the mountain road southwest for five stages, reaching the city of Sailan. In the city stood a small pagoda. The King of the Uyghurs came out to greet us and escorted our party into the guesthouse.

In early November it rained heavily for several days. The locals counted a year as four months, and around noon they congratulated one another. On this day, Master Xujing Zhao Jiugu said to Yin Gong: "When I traveled with my teacher in the Xuande era, I already sensed the signs that I would soon depart for a long while, and I had grown weary of the hardships of the road. My teacher instructed me that one who cultivates the Dao (the Way) does not let life and death shake the mind, nor let bitterness and pleasure weigh on the heart, but should remain at peace wherever they find themselves. Now the time of my return is near, and you must serve your father and your teacher well." A few days later, they showed signs of illness and passed away, around the fifth day of the eleventh month. Our teacher ordered the disciples to bury Jiugu in the fields east of the city, and then the journey resumed.

They continued southwest for three days and reached a city. Its ruler, King Wang, was also a Uyghur and was already quite old. He prepared gifts to welcome and send off the Perfected Master (Zhenren) Changchun and his party, and he treated them with the same reverence he would show a father or a teacher. A few days later he fell ill and died, around the fifth day of the eleventh month. Master Changchun ordered his disciple to bury Jiugu in the fields east of the city, and then the party resumed their journey.

After another three days southwest, they reached a second city. Its king, Wang, was also a Uyghur and very old. He arranged the ceremonies of welcome and farewell and served the company soup cakes. The next day they passed another city. After two more days they came to a river called Huochan Mo'nian. The party crossed on a pontoon bridge and rested on the western bank. The official in charge of the river and its bridges presented Lord Tian with a fish that had a very large mouth and no scales.

The river rises between two great snowy mountains to the southeast. Its water is turbid and swift, several zhang deep, and it flows northwest for an unknown number of thousands of li. For more than two hundred li to the southwest there was no water or grass, so the party had to travel by night. They then continued south and, with the great snowy mountains still in view, turned west. This mountain range joins end to end with the mountains south of Yesimisigan (Samarkand). Master Changchun also composed a poem in praise of the scene:

The heights shaped by heaven and earth are lofty and strange, beyond description;
The mountains to the east and west seem to have been arranged by nature itself.
To the south lie peaks as fine as jade, their ridges stretching on, steep and unbroken;
To the north the Golden Sand River presses close, its plains broad and level.
Springs gush at the foot of the mountains, nourishing without end;
The peaks soar high, and their clear air seems to reach straight into the clouds.
I have walked ten thousand li, and ordinarily I have been too lazy to speak;
Arriving here, I cannot help but chant aloud.

They came to another city where water and grass could be obtained. After passing one more city, a Uyghur chieftain came out from afar to greet them. He held a banquet south of the city, offered grape wine, and had children perform pole climbing and sword dancing.

After passing two more cities and crossing mountains for half a day, they entered a stretch of level plain running north to south and lodged beneath a great mulberry tree whose shade could cover over a hundred people. Ahead lay a city, and beside the road was a well more than a hundred chi deep. An elderly Uyghur man was driving an ox that turned a windlass to draw water for thirsty travelers. When the emperor had campaigned westward, he had seen this old man and, finding his conduct admirable, ordered that his taxes and labor service be exempted.

In the winter, on the eighteenth day of the eleventh month, the master and his disciples crossed the great river and arrived at the north side of the great city of Xiemisigan (Samarkand). Grand Preceptor Yilie, Duke of the State, together with the Mongol and Uighur generals, had prepared wine and met them in the outskirts, where they set up a grand tent and the party halted to rest. Liu, the Xuanshi (Proclamation Master), had stayed behind on the road because the way was blocked, and at the banquet he said to his teacher, "I have just heard that more than a thousand li away there is a great river that was once crossed by a pontoon bridge, but local bandits have now destroyed it. It is already deep winter, so Master, it would be better to wait until spring next year before going to court." The master followed his advice.

Before long, the master and his disciples entered through the northeast gate of the city. Xiemisigan was built along the bank of a ditch, and in autumn and summer it often went without rain. The locals channeled two rivers into the city and let the streams wind through its streets and lanes, so that every household had water. Before the local ruler, the Sultan (Suanduan), was defeated, the city often held more than a hundred thousand households. After its fall, only about a quarter of the survivors remained, and most of them were Uighurs. Unable to work the fields on their own, they had to depend on the Han Chinese, the Khitan, and the Hexi people. Officials in the city were likewise drawn from different peoples, and Han craftsmen lived among them.

Within the city stood a hill more than ten zhang high, on which the Sultan's new palace had been built, and the Grand Preceptor had lived there earlier. Because the Uighurs faced food shortages and bandits were numerous, the Grand Preceptor feared they might cause trouble, so he moved to live north of the river. The master then took up residence in the palace and sighed, "A Daoist adapts to whatever circumstances arise and wanders at ease. Even with a blade at one's neck, one does not fear. How much less should one worry in advance when the bandits have not yet come? Moreover, good and evil each have their own Way, and the bandits will surely not harm us." His followers, hearing this, also grew calm.

The Grand Preceptor held a vegetarian feast in honor of the master and offered him ten bolts of gold brocade, which the master declined. From then on, the Grand Preceptor sent rice, flour, oil, and fruit every month, showing ever greater respect. Noticing that the master drank very little wine, he asked to brew new wine from one hundred hu of grapes. The master replied, "Why must there be wine? If the grapes are sent in this quantity, they will be enough to entertain guests." The grapes did not spoil even after a winter's keeping.

The master also saw peacocks and elephants, which had been brought from the kingdom of India, several thousand li to the south.

One day, the Master composed a poem during a leisure hour: "Setting out in the second month, I did not finish until the tenth; westward I came to the great city of the Huihe (an ancient Western Regions people). The pagoda in the city rises so high that its thirteenth tier cannot be seen. Its body is carved from brick with exquisite delicacy, so from outside one cannot make out its layered stories, yet inside one can go up and down. Mountain ridges pile upon ridges, and we have crossed a thousand times ten thousand of them. In autumn, people still herd elephants in the outskirts; in summer, if the clouds bring no rain, they do not look like the dragon moving the clouds and raising rain. We eat fresh vegetables and wheat rice, drink grape wine, and when we are full and well rested, we live at ease."

While the Master wintered here, the Proclaiming Envoy and the Duke of Zhenhai sent Helà and others to accompany him. They led several hundred armored soldiers to scout ahead, and along the way, Han Chinese often came to take refuge in him.

At that time, a man well versed in the calendar was present. The Master asked him about the solar eclipse on the first day of the fifth month. The man replied that here the eclipse began at the hour of Chen (7 to 9 a.m.) and did not end until the sixth month. The Master said: "Earlier, when I was at Lujuhe, I saw the eclipse at noon. Later, I went further southwest to Jinshan, where it was said the eclipse had reached seven-tenths. The same eclipse looked different in each of these three places."

The Master cited Kong Yingda's Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals, which holds that when the moon blocks the sun, a solar eclipse occurs. Judging from present observation, when an eclipse happens, those standing directly beneath the obstruction see it, while those a thousand li away see it gradually differently. It is like covering a lamp with a fan: where the fan's shadow falls, there is no light, and the farther one moves from the shadow, the more light there is.

One day, the Master came to the former palace and inscribed the Phoenix Perches on the Paulownia lyrics on the wall. One of them reads: "A single spark of numinous awareness quietly opens into realization; whether in heaven or among men, its traces cannot be seen. In the four seas and eight directions, it alone walks on its own; it dwells neither in emptiness nor in existence, so who can see it? In a blink of the eye and a lift of the brow, the whole is revealed; transcending the vast and boundless dharma realm, it leisurely departs. Having passed through ten thousand kalpas of transmigration, one meets this moment at last; the beings of the Nine Primes (in Daoist teaching, the nine layers of dark netherworld) together ascend the path to the Sanqing (Three Pure Ones, the three supreme Daoist deities and their realms)."

Another reads: "Sun and moon circle and return without ceasing; spring goes and autumn comes, and how many rises and falls, flourishings and witherings, have they witnessed? The Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns have passed through a thousand generations, and worldly affairs always rise and then decline in just this way."

After a person dies, they are reborn, and after rebirth they die again. Thus they turn and transform endlessly through life and death. When will this cycle end? Unless one reaches the state of no-mind and no-thought (wuxin wunian), where one rests in tranquil stillness, one cannot attain purity or transcend this endless round of rebirth.

There are also two poems. The first says: From the Eastern Sea to the Western Qin, I have been running about for several decades. I have devoted myself to pondering the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue), and have exhausted the profound and mysterious principles. I eat only one meal a day; how could this be for the sake of being full? Past midnight I still force myself not to sleep. My actual cultivation has not yet reached the realm of ascending to the heavenly realms, yet my empty reputation has already spread throughout the north. Only because the great state sent down an illuminating edict did I cross ten thousand li and brave the wind and sand to reach this distant frontier.

The second says: At twenty, I served a Perfected Person (zhenren) by the sea; in middle age, I lived in seclusion on the lofty Long Mountains. After parting from the region of the Yellow River, I rode a yellow crane far away. When I reached the far north, I again expounded the teaching, drawing attention like one who hooks a giant turtle. The mountains and rivers are boundless, and no matter how I walk, I cannot finish the journey. Once the mind has a desire, one is wearied everywhere. I also know that the world contains three thousand great thousand worlds, but without spiritual powers (shentong), one still cannot escape from them.

At the end of this intercalary twelfth month of the year, scouts returned and reported together with the envoy to my Father-Master: the Second Prince had already reorganized his troops and pontoon bridges, and the local rebellion had been pacified. Hela and others went to the military camp to pay respects to the Prince and said that the Master wished to go to court to see the emperor. The Prince again issued orders, saying that the emperor was encamped to the southeast of the Great Snowy Mountain, and that the mountain passes were now blanketed with snow for more than a hundred li, too deep for passage; this was the only road leading there. He asked the Master to come here and await proper arrangements, and said that when the Master arrived, Mongol troops would be sent from the nearby city to escort him.

The Master said to the imperial envoy: "I have heard that within a thousand li south of the Yellow River there is no grain supply. I need rice, flour, and vegetables. Please return and report this to the Prince's headquarters."

In the spring of the first month of the Renwu year, the pa-lan tree began to blossom, its flowers resembling small peach blossoms. When autumn came and the fruit was harvested for eating, its flavor was like that of the walnut.

On the second day of the second lunar month, the Spring Equinox had just arrived, and the apricot blossoms had already fallen. Magistrate Li of the Directorate of Astronomy and others invited Qiu Chuji to tour the western part of the city, and Envoy Xuan and several officials accompanied them with grape wine.

The weather that day was clear. After the rain the sky had cleared, and the flowers, grasses, and trees stood out with unusual brightness. Pavilions, ponds, and multi-storied towers lined the route, interspersed with vegetable gardens. When the party grew tired, they rested on the grass, all feeling thoroughly delighted. They discussed profound doctrine and the methods of the Dao, and from time to time raised their cups to drink, returning only when the sun had sunk toward the west.

Qiu Chuji composed a poem:

"Five thousand li west of the Yin Mountains, twenty stages east of the Great Stone. After the rain, the distant snowy peaks appear hazy; at the Spring Equinox, the city of Hezhong is nearing Qingming. The gardens are still, and no birdsong can be heard; the spring breeze blows gently, and the flowers seem to hold feeling. Those of congenial mind may come here for a leisurely visit, and once the realm is at peace, I will withdraw into seclusion."

The "Great Stone" mentioned in the poem refers to the region around Samarkand; in the period of the Great Stone Kingdom this area was called Hezhong Prefecture.

Later, on the day of the full moon (the fifteenth of the lunar month), which was also the "Hundred-and-Fifth Morning, Festival of the Primordial True Origin of the Supreme Lord," local officials again invited Qiu Chuji to tour the western city. The gardens stretched on continuously for over a hundred li, and the scenery, even in the Central Plains, would have been hard to match, except that no birdsong could be heard in the gardens. He therefore composed two more poems for his companions.

The first reads:

"In mid-second month, just before and after the Cold Food Festival, on the day the Primordial Heavenly Venerable descends, the spring light arrives slowly and gradually. This is a night of bright moon and clear breeze, and if clouds part and rain ceases, the scene will be even finer. Gardens cover the land, and one cannot walk them all; flowers and trees reflect the sky's light, and sitting to admire them is also marvelous. I have not yet cut off food and drink or retreated completely from the world, so for now I will let things take their natural course and enjoy these pleasures among the people."

The second reads:

"The ancient remains of distant lands are still clearly visible; I wish to visit the kindred spirits of the great desert. Pavilions of former days stand in rows everywhere, and flowers of past years renew themselves each season. The scenery here is well able to hold travelers' steps, yet when the sun sinks in the west, how could one fail to feel that parting is near?"

I thought to myself: the pleasures pursued in the human world are fleeting, and how could they compare with feasting on the everlasting joy beyond the heavens?

In early March, Ali Xian came from the travelling palace and conveyed the imperial decree: "The Perfected (zhenren) has come from the land where the sun rises, crossing mountains and wading rivers, and has endured great hardship. Now that I have returned, I wish to hear your teaching at once, so do not weary of waiting for me."

The emperor then instructed the envoy Zhonglu: "You were commissioned to invite the Perfected, and you carried out the task to my satisfaction. In the future I will give you a good post." He then said to Zhenhai: "You escorted the Perfected here with tireless devotion, and I commend you." He also ordered the myriarch Bolu Zhi to send one thousand armored soldiers to escort them through the Iron Gate Pass.

The Master asked Ali Xian about the route. Ali Xian replied: "We set out from here on the thirteenth day of the first month. By forced march we went three days to the southeast and passed the Iron Gate. Then after five more days we crossed a great river. In early second month we crossed the great snowy mountains to the southeast. The snow was very deep. When we rode with whips raised to measure it, the whip did not reach halfway down, and where the horses' hooves stepped, there was still about five chi of snow beneath. We went two more days south and reached the travelling palace."

When Ali Xian had finished reporting the journey, the emperor was delighted and kept the Master for several days before letting him return. The Master then left his disciples Yin Zhiping and two others at the guesthouse. With five or six attendants, he set out with the envoys on the fifteenth day of the third month.

Four days later they passed the city of Jieshi. An imperial decree had earlier been issued ordering the myriarch Bolu Zhi to lead one thousand Mongol and Uighur troops to escort them. After passing the Iron Gate Pass, they climbed southeast over the mountains, where the peaks were steep and jagged rocks lay everywhere. The soldiers pulled the carts for two days before reaching the ridge ahead, and then they followed the river southward. The army, meanwhile, turned north into the great mountains to suppress bandits.

After five days they came to a small river and crossed by boat, with dense forest on both banks. On the seventh day they crossed a great river by boat. This river was the Amu Mo Nian.

Later the party travelled southeast and at dusk halted beside an ancient canal. Reeds grew thickly along its banks, unlike the common reeds of the Central Plains. One large variety kept its leaves green through the winter and did not wither, so people cut it for walking staves. At night these were laid crosswise beneath the carriage shafts, and even with the carriage resting on them they did not break. Another, smaller variety dried out in autumn but put forth fresh leaves in spring. Farther south, in the mountains, grew great bamboo with solid stems, which soldiers used as dagger-axes and halberds. There were also lizards about three chi long, blue-black in colour.

On the twenty-ninth day of the third month, the Perfected (Zhenren) composed a poem:

"Seeking the Way, I have yet to achieve completion,

and even the demons of heaven stand in dread.

I took my leave from the eastern sea

and gazed westward, setting out toward the sun's edge.

No sound of chickens or dogs reaches my ears;

horses and oxen take turns serving as relay stations.

Across a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers,

I do not know where I now find myself."

Four days later the party arrived where the emperor was staying. On the fifth day of the fourth month, the emperor sent the minister Halabode to welcome them. After lodgings were arranged, the Perfected entered the palace to pay respects. The emperor consoled the Perfected, saying: "Other kingdoms summoned and invited you, and you declined them all. Now you have come ten thousand li to me, and I greatly admire this." The Perfected replied: "This mountain man answered the imperial summons, and this is the will of Heaven." The emperor was pleased and gave the Perfected a seat. At the meal, the emperor asked: "You have travelled so far, Perfected. Do you have any elixir of long life to give me?" The Perfected answered: "There are methods for nourishing life, but there is no elixir of everlasting life." The emperor praised this honesty and ordered that two tents be pitched east of the imperial tent for the Perfected's lodging.

The interpreter asked: "People call the Perfected 'Tengri Mongol Kong' (a term meaning 'heavenly person' in the translated language). Did the Perfected call oneself this, or did others?" The Perfected said: "This mountain man did not name oneself; others called me this." The interpreter then asked: "What were you called in the past?" The Perfected answered: "This mountain man once studied the Way under Master Chongyang (Chongyang shi). There were four of us disciples. Three have already ascended (yuhua, meaning attained immortality in Daoist usage), and only this one remains in the world, where people call me 'Master' (xiansheng)." The emperor then asked Zhenhai: "What title should the Perfected be given?"

Zhenhai reported, "Some people respectfully address the Perfected (Zhenren) as master, perfected, and immortal." The emperor replied, "From now on, he may be called an immortal (shenxian)."

It was then the height of summer, and the emperor's party was camped in tents in the snowy mountains to escape the heat. Around the fourteenth day of the fourth month, the emperor sought instruction on the Dao from the Perfected. The outer-court envoys Tian Zhenhai, Liu Zhonglu, and Ali Xian were responsible for keeping the record, and the inner court assigned three attendants to record as well. A report then came that bandits were stirring unrest in the mountains of Huihe (Uyghur), and the emperor resolved to lead the campaign himself, so he postponed departure to an auspicious day in the tenth month.

The Perfected asked to return to his former residence. The emperor said, "To go back once more would be a great hardship, would it not?" The Perfected answered, "Twenty days (about two weeks) will be enough." The emperor added, "No one will escort you." The Perfected said, "The imperial envoy Yang Agou is here." Three days later, the emperor ordered Yang Agou to lead the Huihe chieftains and more than a thousand cavalry in attendance, after which the party returned by a different road.

They then passed a great mountain with a stone gate. Seen from afar, the gate looked like a block of wax that had been planed smooth, with a huge boulder lying across the top like a bridge. The water beneath the gate ran swiftly. As the cavalry drove their donkeys across, the donkeys drowned, and many corpses lay strewn along the water's edge. This was probably a pass that had just been broken by an army. After they left the gorge, the Perfected composed two poems.

The first reads: The iron gate to the north of the river was still passable, but the stone gorge to the south was truly perilous. Sheer cliffs rose on both sides into the clouds, and cold mountain streams churned and rushed. Corpses lay across the roadside, so that one had to cover the nose; the donkeys drowned in the stream, and this grieved me deeply. For ten years the fighting has dragged on, ten thousand li from home. May the great army return soon, and may the world be made peaceful again.

The second reads: The snowy ridges are pure white, towering to meet the sky; at dawn the sunlight blazes, shining over the mountains and rivers. Looking up, I see people walking sideways along the sheer cliffs; looking down, the cypresses at the edge of the dangerous precipice hang upside down. The chill May wind strikes the face, and it cured the fever of the Triple Burner (sanjiao) on the spot. I came here to expound the Great Dao, yet I could only look back into the distance, so I must choose another fine day and wait for the Lower Primordial festival (Xiayuan, the fifteenth day of the tenth lunar month).

When the Perfected first came to audience, the third month had just ended, the grasses and trees were lush, and the sheep and horses were plump. When he was ordered to return, it was already the end of the fourth month, and the hundred grasses had all withered. He then wrote a poem that says: "The cold wind of a foreign land strikes the face, and the fever of the Triple Burner was cured at once."

I came here to spread the teaching of the Dao, and looking back, we agreed to choose another auspicious day and wait for the Xiayuan Festival (Xiayuan Jie, the Lower Primordial Festival, held on the fifteenth day of the tenth lunar month). When my teacher came to pay his respects, three months had already passed. The grasses and trees had grown lush, and the sheep and horses were fat and strong. By the time we returned in response to the imperial summons, the fourth month had also ended, and the hundred grasses had all withered. I then composed a poem:

Beyond the far borders, the strange sights and tales cannot be fully told,

and the yin-yang climate there is truly impossible to fathom.

Just as the fourth month arrived, the cold, gloomy weather dispersed. Spring and winter had brought long stretches of rain, but by the fourth month yang energy flourished and no rain fell at all. Yet a severe drought struck, as though a Han Ba (a legendary demon said to bring drought) were rampaging through the land.

In the height of summer the rivers ran full, enough to channel water to the fields, yet the grasses and trees withered just as they do in deep winter.

I traveled three thousand li back and forth, setting out in the third month and returning in the fifth, and along the whole road I never saw a traveler venturing out in the rain.

On the road we met people returning from the campaign in the west, who had acquired a great quantity of coral. One of the accompanying officials exchanged two yi of silver (yi, an ancient unit of weight) for the coral, obtaining nearly fifty pieces, the tallest over a foot in height. Because this coral had been acquired on horseback, it could not be preserved intact.

Continuing the account, we traveled during the cool of the night and, after five or six days, reached Yemisigan, known in ancient times as Hezhong Fu (Samarkand). The various officials welcomed my teacher into the guesthouse on the very day of the Duanwu Festival (Duanwu Jie).

Envoy Li set out to the east and sent a poem to the Daoist community in that direction:

When we departed from the coastal city in those years, the warfare at sea had not yet subsided.

Wishing to spread the De (Virtue) a thousand li away, I did not shrink from the dust and weariness of the road.

On his eastward journey, the imperial envoy Li sent a poem to the Daoist community in the east. It recalled that when they set out from the coastal city, the war at sea had not yet ended. To spread the Dao (the Way) and its De (Virtue) a thousand li away, he did not shrink from the dust and hardship of the road, and he traveled far into the lands of the Nine Yi. At first they climbed the high ridges to the northwest, namely Yehu Ridge. Then they gradually turned to the southeast toward Shangjing. The text notes that the east bank of the Luju River was the area from which Shangjing could be seen to the southeast. The route then wound southwest: they first went some four thousand li southwest to Wulidu, then another two thousand li to the Yin Mountains. Beyond the Yin Mountains, the author did not yet know the names of the places. Southwest of the Yin Mountains lay range upon range of high peaks and rivers, and after several thousand li they reached the great city of Xiemisigan (Samarkand), where Changchun Zhenren (Perfected Changchun) and his company lodged in an old palace.

After the Perfected returned to his lodging, he stayed on a northern cliff. Some ten-odd zhang below ran a clear little stream fed by snowy mountains, its water very cold. In the heat of midsummer he rested by the north window to catch the breeze, and at night he slept on the flat roof. In the hottest part of the sixth month he went to the bathing pool to wash. In this distant foreign land, his life was thus content and self-sufficient.

The land in the Hé district, that is, the region of the Amu Darya, was fertile and suited to all kinds of grain, though it produced neither buckwheat nor soybeans. In mid-fourth month the wheat ripened. The locals harvested it and piled it on the ground, milling it only as needed, and they did not finish processing all of it until the sixth month. Li, the supervisor of the Grand Preceptor's residence, gave the Perfected five mu of melon field. The melons were sweet and fragrant, a variety not found in the Central Plains, and some were as large as a dou measure. In the sixth month, when the Second Prince returned, Liu Zhonglu asked for melons and presented them to him; ten of them weighed a full dan. Local fruits and vegetables were abundant, lacking only taro and chestnuts. The eggplants were no thicker than a coarse finger, and their color was a dark purple-black.

The local men and women both braided their hair. Some of the men's hats were shaped like distant mountains, decorated in many colors and embroidered with cloud patterns and other designs, with hat ribbons attached. Everyone from the tribal chiefs down to serving officials wore such hats. Common people wrapped about six chi of white mosi (a kind of cloth) around their heads. The wives of chiefs and powerful households wrapped their heads in silk gauze, in black and purple, some embroidered with flowers and grasses or woven with patterns, the cloth about six or seven chi long. Their hair all hung loose, and some women wrapped it in cotton bags.

Their headwear came in plain colors as well as mixed patterns, and some was made of cloth. People did not wear their hair in buns. Instead, they covered their hair with cloth, in a style resembling that of Buddhist nuns (chujia nüzhong, female monastics). This was the ordinary adornment of common women. Some garments were made of white die (fine white cloth), sewn in a shape narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, like a sack, and then fitted with sleeves. These were called "undershirts," and both men and women wore them.

The local carts, boats, and farm tools differed greatly in form from those of the Central Plains. People mostly made their vessels from liushi (a zinc-copper alloy, or brass) and copper, and occasionally from porcelain, some of which resembled the Ding ware of the Central Plains. Wine vessels were all made of liuli (glass), while weapons were made of binfe (tough, high-quality steel). The coins in circulation had no square holes, and both sides bore Uyghur script.

Most local people were tall and very strong, and could carry heavy loads without using shoulder poles. A woman whose husband was poor could remarry after marriage, and she could also remarry if her husband went away for more than three months. Some men grew beards. Those called "Da Shima" locally could read and write their own script and were in charge of registers and records.

At the end of winter, the locals held a fast lasting one month. In the evening, the chief personally slaughtered a sheep for the feast and shared it with those seated at the same table. Related rites were carried out from night until dawn. In the other months, they observed six fasts. The locals also built tall houses with a large beam projecting from the roof, shaped like an eave, more than a zhang (about three meters) in length and width. On the beam stood a hollow pavilion hung with tassels on all sides. Each morning and evening, the chief climbed the pavilion, faced west, and performed a bow, a practice called "reporting to Heaven." They did not revere Buddhism or Daoism. They only called out and chanted loudly from the pavilion. Men, women, and the young and old all came running when they heard it and bowed beneath the pavilion. This was the practice throughout the realm, and anyone who did not comply was put to death.

The chief dressed like the local people, but wrapped his head in fine mosi (a kind of fine cloth) that was three zhang and two chi long (about ten meters), with a frame of bamboo inside. Qiu Chuji, the Perfected Master of Eternal Spring, was astonished by this custom and wrote a poem to record it:

The old lands of the Huihu stretch for ten thousand li, and the city of Hecheng is the most powerful of all. Copper vessels fill the city, shining like gold, and the military garments in the markets look like Daoist robes. Gold is cut and shaped into goods, and white die is cut and sewn into clothing.

"Spirit melons" and white mulberries are no ordinary fare. Who in Chixian (the Central Plains) could obtain and taste them? It was the height of midsummer, yet the snowy mountains were bitterly cold, and the clouds hung dim and pale. The Master then improvised a quatrain:

The night air over the eastern mountains spreads vast and boundless;

the evening glow fills the sky, its red light ten thousand feet high.

The bright moon rises at night from the sea,

its golden radiance shining straight into the blue heavens.

The Master stayed in the guesthouse, where visitors were few, and he passed the time by studying the scriptures. He composed another quatrain:

Traveling north beyond the Yin Mountains, the journey covered over ten thousand li;

going west past the Great Stone, he lingered for half a year.

In remote and desolate lands, the customs are coarse and it is hard to discuss the Dao (the Way);

it is better to read in a quiet room or among the mountain crags.

In the latter half of the seventh month, the Master sent Alixian to the imperial palace with a memorial, requesting a date for discussing the Dao. On the seventh day of the eighth month, the emperor's reply arrived. On the eighth, they set out, and the Grand Preceptor escorted the Master for several dozen li. The Master said to him, "There are two thousand households in the city east of Huihe who have recently rebelled. Every night their fires light up the city, and the people within are uneasy. Your Excellency may return and comfort them." The Grand Preceptor replied, "If something unforeseen happens to you on the road, what then?" The Master said, "That has nothing to do with Your Excellency." The Grand Preceptor then turned back.

On the twelfth, the company passed Jieshi City. On the thirteenth, they received an escort of one thousand foot soldiers and three hundred armored horsemen, and entered the great mountains by a route beyond Iron Gate Pass.

When they crossed the Red Water Ravine, they saw steep, perilous peaks towering several li high. Following the valley southeast, they found salt springs flowing from the foot of the mountain. The spring water turned into white salt as soon as it met the air, so they gathered two dou of it to eat along the way. Continuing southeast, they climbed the watershed ridge. Looking west, they saw into a deep ravine where things resembled ice, but were in fact salt as well. The mountain also had red salt that looked like stone, which the Master tasted himself. In the east, salt was produced only in low-lying lands, but here salt also came from the mountain valleys.

The Huihe people eat a great deal of flatbread and are fond of salt, and when thirsty they drink water. In the cold of winter, even the poor carry flatbread on their backs and sell it along the road. On the fourteenth, the company reached the southwestern foot of Iron Gate Pass and was about to leave the mountains. The pass was narrow and dangerous, with a collapsed cliff on the left, and the stream flowed underground for about a li. At the time of the Mid-Autumn Festival, the company reached a river, whose force resembled the Yellow River, flowing northwest. They crossed by boat and spent the night on the south bank.

To the west lay a mountain stronghold called Tuanbala, whose terrain was steep and dangerous, easy to defend and hard to attack. On the way there, Master Zheng, physician to the Third Prince, met me and presented a poem:

Since ancient times, the Mid-Autumn moon has been at its brightest. The cool wind arrives in its season, and the night air grows even more crisp. The sky is clear and transparent, as though the Milky Way has sunk into it. Fish and dragons across the four seas shimmer, reflecting the color of the water. Along the terraced pavilions of the Wu and Yue regions, songs and music never cease, while in the armies of Yan and Qin, tables are laden with wine and food.

Beside the river at the emperor's encampment, I long to halt the fighting and bring peace to all under heaven.

We then followed the river southeast for thirty li, where there was no water, so we had to press on through the night. We passed the city of Banli, which was very large. Its people had only just fled, and dogs could still be heard barking within the walls. At dawn, after a meal, we traveled east for several dozen li and came upon a river flowing north. Its water was just deep enough for horses to ford, so we rested and spent the night on the eastern bank.

On the twenty-second day, Tian Zhenhai came from the east to greet me. When we reached the imperial residence, the emperor sent Tian Zhenhai again to ask, "Do you wish to see me now, or would you rather rest for a while first?" I replied, "To be granted an audience is my heartfelt wish." A Daoist who comes to an audience with the emperor does not perform the kneeling salute. When I entered the tent, I simply offered a respectful bow with my hands clasped.

After our meeting, the emperor gave me cheese and other food. When I had finished eating, I took my leave. The emperor asked, "In the city where you are staying, are your daily supplies sufficient?" I answered, "In the past, the Mongols and the Uighurs were both supplied by the Grand Preceptor. Recently, provisions have been somewhat difficult, and only the Grand Preceptor is still providing for us on his own."

The next day, the emperor again sent his attendant Hezhu to convey a message and ask, "Would it be acceptable for the Perfected Man to come here to dine each day?" I replied, "I am a man who cultivates the Way in the wilderness, and I only prefer quiet places." The emperor then allowed me to act according to my own wishes.

On the twenty-seventh day, the emperor's carriages turned north on the return journey. Along the way, he several times bestowed upon me grape wine, melons, and tea and light refreshments. On the first day of the Ninth Month, we crossed the river bridge and proceeded north. I memorialized, saying, "The day we arranged for our discussion is approaching. The Grand Preceptor Ahai may now be summoned."

On the fifteenth day of that month, Genghis Khan set up curtains and a purification feast (zhai) in his tent, dismissed his attendants, and kept the lamps and candles burning brightly inside. Only Zhenhai and the imperial envoy Liu Zhonglu remained outside, while the Perfected (Zhenren) Changchun, the Grand Preceptor (Taishi) Ahai, and Alixian entered and took their seats. Genghis Khan said, "Zhonglu has accompanied me over ten thousand li, and Zhenhai escorted me for several thousand li. They too may enter the tent and hear our discussion of principles." He then summoned the two men inside. When the Perfected spoke, Genghis Khan had the Grand Preceptor render the report into Mongolian, and the discourse was so thorough that it greatly pleased him.

On the ninth day of the tenth month at night, Genghis Khan again summoned the Perfected to discuss the Dao (the Way), and he was delighted by what he heard. On the twenty-third day, he called the Perfected into the tent again and extended the same courtesy as before. Genghis Khan wore an expression of gladness and listened attentively. He ordered his attendants to record the words and further instructed that they be written down in Chinese characters, to show that he would not forget them. He said to those at his side, "I have taken to heart the three principles of nourishing life that the immortal has spoken. You must not divulge them outside." From that time on, the Perfected followed the imperial retinue eastward and often spoke of the teachings of Daoism (Daojiao) and their transforming influence.

A few more days passed, and they reached a point thirty li southwest of the city of Samarkand. On the first day of the tenth month, the Perfected requested to return first to his former residence, and Genghis Khan agreed. At that time Genghis Khan was encamped twenty li east of the city. On the sixth day of this month, the Perfected and the Grand Preceptor Ahai went together for an audience. Genghis Khan asked, "What about the people around you who will not leave?" The Perfected replied, "There is no need to find them." He then had the Grand Preceptor relay his words: "I have studied the Dao in the mountains and wilds for many years, and I am accustomed to walking and sitting quietly in tranquil places. The troops and horses before the imperial tent are chaotic and disturb the settling of the spirit (shen). From now on, I may walk ahead of or behind the column and move at will. I have already received many gifts along this road." Genghis Khan agreed.

After the Perfected left the tent, Genghis Khan sent someone to ask, "Do you want the bald-deer horse?" The Perfected replied, "No need." At this time a fine rain began to fall, and the green grass grew again. By the middle of the mid-winter month, the rain and snow were becoming more frequent, and the qi (vital energy) of the earth was also beginning to circulate. It is said that whenever the Perfected came to a city, he gave any surplus grain to the hungry people, and he also often...

After Master Mu (referring to Qiu Chuji) reached this city, he gave away whatever grain he had to relieve the hungry, and he often provided gruel, so that many people were saved. He set out on the twenty-sixth day. On the twenty-third day of the twelfth month, the weather turned bitterly cold and snow fell, and many oxen and horses froze to death along the road. Three days later he crossed eastward over the Huochan Mo'lian (the Great River) and arrived at the xingzai (the temporary residence where the emperor halted). He had heard that the floating bridge on the river had broken apart in the middle of the night, an event that took place around the twenty-eighth.

The emperor asked about the thunderstorm. Master Mu replied, "In the wild country I have heard that the people here do not bathe in the river in summer, do not wash their clothes, and do not make felt. When silkworm cocoons appear in the fields, they even forbid anyone to pick them. This is because they stand in awe of the majesty of Heaven. But this is not the way to follow the Dao. I have heard that among all faults, none is greater than lack of filial piety, and so Heaven uses thunder to warn the people. Now I hear that in this land many people fail to honor their parents. Your Majesty may use your own prestige and virtue to admonish the common people."

The emperor was delighted and said, "The immortal's words are exactly what I think." He ordered his attendants to record them in the Uyghur script. Master Mu asked that these words be passed on to the people throughout the realm, and the emperor agreed. The emperor then summoned the crown prince, the various princes, and his ministers and said, "The Han people revere immortals just as you revere Heaven. I now believe more firmly than ever that he is a person of Heaven." He also repeated to them the answers Master Mu had given earlier and added, "Heaven has had the immortal tell me these things, and all of you must keep them firmly in your hearts."

Master Mu then withdrew. On the first day of the first month of the new year, generals, physicians, diviners, and other officials came to offer him their congratulations. On the eleventh day he continued eastward. Samarkand (Xie Misi'gan) lay more than a thousand li to the west, and he halted in a large orchard. On the nineteenth, the birthday of his father-teacher, the officials burned incense to wish him long life. On the eighteenth, Controller Li of the Grand Preceptor's office took his leave. Master Mu asked, "Shall we meet again?" Li replied, "We will meet in the third month." Master Mu said, "You do not understand the principles of Heaven. By the second or third month I shall certainly have returned east." On the twenty-first the company traveled one more stage eastward and came to the bank of a great river. From there, going northeast for about three stages, one reaches Sairam.

They stayed for some time, since the water and grass here were abundant enough to feed the oxen and horses. On the third day of the second month they traveled east for a stretch and reached the bank of a large river, about three stages northeast of Sairam. The grass and water were also plentiful there, and the animals could eat their fill, so they stopped again.

On the seventh day of the second month, Qiu Chuji entered the palace to pay his respects to the emperor and said: "I set out from my residence by the sea, and I expected to return to the mountains in about three years. Now exactly three years have passed, and returning to the mountains is my original wish." The emperor replied: "I am also about to set out eastward. Could we travel together?" Qiu Chuji answered: "If you let me go on ahead, that would be fine." He added that when he had first come, the Han people had asked when he would return, and he had replied that it would be three years. Now that the emperor's consultations and reports were all concluded, he firmly asked to take his leave once more. The emperor said: "Wait another three or five days, until the crown prince arrives. I want to clear up the matters I have not yet understood. Once I have grasped them, you may set out."

On the eighth day, the emperor went hunting at the foot of the Eastern Mountain and shot a large wild boar, but when his horse stumbled, he lost control. The boar was right beside him, yet it did not dare approach. After attendants brought him another horse, the emperor stopped hunting and returned to the temporary palace. Qiu Chuji heard of this and entered the palace to admonish him: "Heaven values life. Your Majesty is advanced in years and should hunt less. The fall from the horse is a warning from Heaven, and the boar not daring to come near is Heaven protecting you." The emperor said: "I have sincerely reflected on this, and the immortal's advice is very sound. I am a Mongol, and since childhood I have been accustomed to riding and archery, so I cannot stop at once. However, I will keep the immortal's words in my heart." He then said to Jixili Dala Khan: "From now on I will follow everything the immortal has advised." From that time on, he did not go out hunting for two months.

On the twenty-fourth day, Qiu Chuji again requested leave from the court. The emperor said: "The immortal is about to leave. What should I give him? Let me think it over and wait a few more days." Qiu Chuji understood that he could not depart immediately, so he waited for the time being. On the seventh day of the third month, he again asked to take his leave. The emperor offered him oxen, horses, and other gifts, but he declined them all, saying only: "Just give me the mounts used by the postal stations, and that will be enough." The emperor then asked the interpreter (translator) Alixian, "How many disciples does the immortal of the Han lands have?" Alixian replied, "Very many."

When the immortal reached Longyang Abbey in Dexing Prefecture, he saw that the local government was pressing the monastery to provide corvée labor. The Master memorialized the court, requesting that all of his Daoist followers be exempted from such service. The court then issued an imperial decree, bearing the imperial seal, and sent Ali Xian, a man of Hexi, as envoy, with Mengguzhi and Helebahai as deputies, to escort the Master on his journey back east.

On the tenth day, the Master took leave of the court and set out. Dara Khan and the others, carrying grape wine and rare fruits, escorted him for several dozen li. At parting, they wept as they bid him farewell.

Three days later, the party arrived southeast of the great city of Sailan. In the mountains there was a two-headed snake, about two chi long, which the local people often saw. The next day, his disciples went out of the city to make offerings at the grave of Zhao Gong, styled Master Xujing. The group discussed carrying his remains back with them, but the Master said, "The body, formed from the four elements (sida), is only a form temporarily borrowed, and in the end it will return to decay. The one numinous true nature (yiling zhenxing), however, is free and unbound." The disciples then dropped the matter. The Master continued on his journey the following day.

On the twenty-third day, the envoy A'gou caught up with the Master on the south bank of the Chuimo Palanquin River and saw him off. Ten days later, the party arrived more than one hundred li west of the city of Alima and crossed the great river. On the fifth day of the fourth month, they reached the eastern garden of Alima City.

The craftsmen of the Second Prince earnestly pleaded: "Our camp, where I live, has three altars, with more than four hundred people. They worship morning and evening and have never once slackened. I have been waiting for several days in advance, hoping that the immortal master will mercifully cross the river, so that the people of the altars may have the chance to receive his instruction. It would be a great honor for us."

The Master declined, saying, "The opportunity in the south is near, and I cannot change my route to go there." When the man pleaded again, the Master said, "If there is no other matter, I will make the trip." The next day, the horse the Master was riding suddenly bolted toward the northeast, and his attendants were unable to restrain it.

Master Zhang and the others wept sorrowfully and said, "We have not the fortune to go on together. Heaven will not let us proceed." In the evening they reached the foot of the Yin Mountains and lodged there. The next day they passed forty-eight bridges and followed the stream upward for fifty li, arriving at the Heavenly Pool Sea (Tianchi Hai). They then crossed the Yin Mountains to the northeast and travelled for two days until they joined the great river post road south of the Gold Mountains, as recorded in the Yuan dynasty calendar. From there they passed southeast of the Gold Mountains and proceeded north along the mountain range.

On the twenty-eighth day of the fourth month, heavy snow began to fall. The next day the mountains were white all over, and they continued northeast along the slopes. On the third day they arrived at the foot of Mount Abuhan. Nine disciples led by Song Dao'an, together with members of the Yuhua Society (local Daoist followers) and the imperial envoy Guo Dequan and others, came from afar to greet Master Changchun (Changchun Zhenren) and his party and escorted them into the Qixia Abbey (a Daoist temple). Many people came to take refuge in the Dao.

When Master Changchun alighted from his carriage, the rain began again. The local people congratulated one another, saying, "Here the summers have always been dry. Even when thunderstorms come, they mostly fall between the northern and southern mountains. Today the rain has fallen thoroughly. This is all due to the shelter of our Master's De (Virtue)."

Each year the local residents dredge the river channels and use the water to irrigate their fields and vegetable gardens. Not until the eighth month do the seedlings and wheat begin to ripen, and the crops never keep pace with those that depend on natural rainfall. At the autumn harvest, ground squirrels often damage the crops, and the white ones are especially numerous. The climate here is cold, so crops ripen late. In the fifth month, the soil above the riverbank is more than a foot deep, and beneath it lies about a foot of hard ice. After a period of fasting, on a certain day, Master Changchun sent people to fetch the ice.

Looking south, one sees high ridges where the snow does not melt, even in midsummer, and the region holds many other strange sights. Slightly to the west, beside a lake (haizi), stands a "wind mound" whose earth is chalky white and often crumbles and cracks. In the second and third months of each year, the southern mountain begins to blow, and the rock caves first give out sounds like the herald of the wind. The wind issues from among the wind mounds, at first swirling and surging in hundreds or thousands of whirlwinds shaped like ram's horns. Before long they merge into a great gale that whirls sand, tosses stones, lifts roofs, and uproots trees, its roar shaking all the valleys. Finally it subsides in the southwest.

Continuing southeast, there are three or four water mills behind the mountain stream. On reaching the flatland, whirlwinds rise from among the burial mounds. At first hundreds or thousands of gusts spin like ram's horns, but before long they merge into a single column that lifts flying sand and stones, overturns houses, and uproots trees. Its roar shakes the four directions, and it finally subsides in the southeast. Further southeast, behind the mountain stream, there are again three or four water mills. On reaching the flatland, the water gradually shrinks and finally ceases. The mountains produce shitan (coal).

Further east are two springs that, in the depth of winter, suddenly swell into waters like a great river or lake before sinking underground again. Before long they well up once more, bringing fish and shrimp with them, and at times they flood the inhabitants' homes. By mid-spring the waters gradually recede, and the ground then caves in.

More than a thousand li to the northwest lies the prefecture of Jiǎnjiǎn, which produces fine iron and many green rats, and where grain and wheat are also harvested. Hundreds of Han Chinese artisans live there, weaving silk fabrics such as ling, luo, jin, and qi.

Looking southwest from the daoyuan (Daoist monastery), one can see Jin Mountain. Rain and hail often fall on it, and in the fifth and sixth months snow sometimes falls to a depth of more than a zhang (about ten feet). In some areas to the north live the Shatuo people, who produce rou congrong (desert cistanche), which the locals call "suoyan." They call water "wusu" and grass "aibusu." Deep within the Yin Mountains, the pine trees stand about ten zhang tall.

The disciples reported to their master: "This place lies in a remote land of barbarians. Since antiquity no one has heard of the orthodox teaching here, and only mountain spirits and ghosts beguile the people. Since the master established this daoguan (Daoist temple), repeatedly held jiao (Daoist offering rituals), and convened gatherings on the first and fifteenth days of each month, most people have come to regard the killing of living beings as forbidden. Were it not for the transforming influence of the Dao, how could such a change have come about?"

Earlier, in the year Renwu, the Daoist community was envied and harmed by people of crooked intent, and everyone felt uneasy. One day, while Song was resting in the abbot's quarters, he suddenly saw Master Xujing Zhao appear at the skylight. Zhao said, "A letter has been delivered." Dao'an asked, "From where?" Zhao replied, "From Heaven." Dao'an took it and saw only the two characters Taiqing (Great Clarity), after which the writing suddenly vanished. The next day the master received a letter, and the demonic disturbances gradually subsided.

There was also a physician surnamed Luo, who recklessly slandered Daoism. One day he fell from his horse in front of the temple and broke his shinbone, whereupon he repented, saying, "This is my own fault," and confessed his offenses before the assembled Daoists. When the master set out to the east, he wrote a precept to instruct the community: "Ten thousand li riding an official horse; three years parted from old friends."

The war had not yet subsided, so there were only occasional chances to expound on the Dao and De. Discussions of cultivating breath and qi (qi) could be held only on autumn nights, and the return home was not expected until late spring. Many companions wished to go back but could not set out. Having been parted from old friends for three years, they had much in their hearts that they had no one to confide in.

Ali Xian and the others reported to the Master (shifu), saying, "The southern route is full of gravel and rock and has little water and grass, and many envoys travel back and forth, so the horses will suffer greatly and our journey may be delayed." The Master said, "If we advance in three groups, we need not worry."

On the seventh day of the fifth month, the Master sent six men ahead: Song Daoan, Xia Zhicheng, Song Defang, Meng Zhiwen, He Zhijian, and Pan Dechong. On the fourteenth, the Master set out with six men following behind: Yin Zhiping, Wang Zhiming, Yu Zhike, Ju Zhiyuan, Yang Zhijing, and Qi Zhiqing. Jiagu Fei, Guo Xuanchai, Li Wanhu, and several dozen others came to see them off. The group escorted them for twenty li, and then they dismounted one after another, bowed in farewell, and wept, reluctant to part. The Master urged his horse on and rode swiftly ahead. On the eighteenth, five men, Zhang Zhisu, Sun Zhijian, Zheng Zhixiu, Zhang Zhiyuan, and Li Zhichang, set out as the third group.

The Master traveled east. On the sixteenth they passed a great mountain whose snow-covered peaks made the air bitterly cold, so they changed horses at a portable tent (fúlú, a traveling shelter, not to be confused with the talismans and registers also called fulu). On the seventeenth the Master took no food and drank only hot broth from time to time. They headed southeast across a wide sandy tract where there were a few plants and trees and many gnats, and they camped that night on the east bank of a river.

A few days later, the Master sometimes rode in a carriage. Yin Zhiping and the others asked, "What illness are you suffering from?" The Master replied, "My illness is not one a physician can see through. It comes from the constant grinding of the teachings of the sages. It has not yet healed, but you need not worry." The companions listened with troubled faces and could not put their minds at ease. That night Yin Zhiping dreamed that a divine being said to him, "Do not worry about the Master's illness. Once you reach the land of Han, it will heal of its own accord."

They then traveled more than three hundred li of sandy road where water and grass were extremely scarce, and the horses pressed on through the night without rest.

They stayed two more nights before setting out. This place lay on the northern border of the Xia (Western Xia) territory, where felt tents began to appear more often and horses could be bought easily, so the attendants who had fallen behind finally caught up with the Master.

On the twenty-first day of the sixth month they stayed at Yuyang Pass. The Master had not yet eaten. The next day they passed the pass and travelled east for more than fifty li, where the officials from the Fengzhou Marshal's office and below came out to greet them. Commissioner Yu invited the Master to stay temporarily at his residence and offered him tangtang (a soup-noodle dish or similar food). That day the Master ate well, and afterward a vegetarian feast (zhai) was offered to the assembly, so that eating returned to its usual routine. The Daoists said to one another, "The dream Qinghe had a few days ago has indeed come true."

By then it was the end of summer, and cool winds blew in through the northern windows. Commissioner Yu brought out cocoon paper and asked the Master to inscribe it. The Master wrote:

"Body and mind are at ease and still, free of worldly thoughts;

birds roost quietly until the cock crows.

Through a night without sleep, what is it my mind still clings to?

After the clouds disperse, the moonlight is bright over the stream;

the breath is clear and fresh, and the Valley Spirit (Gushen, in Neidan practice, the vital vitality or primordial spirit within the body) is luminous.

It is not that I sit upright all day and night,

nor that this cultivation is achieved through deliberate effort."

On the first day of the seventh month the Master set out again. On the third day they reached Xiashui, where Marshal Jiagu came out of the city to welcome them and invited the Master to stay at his residence. Several thousand people came to pay their respects and bow. The Marshal grew even more reverent and sent three chickens and three wild geese.

On the seventh day of the seventh month the Master went outside the city to sightsee and released the chickens and geese into the Haizi (a lake). After a while they soared and played among the wind and waves, perfectly at ease. The Master composed a poem:

"I kept you, originally meaning to slaughter you for a meal;

now, meeting me, a good intention arises, and I cannot bear to make you into food.

I send the small boat onto the waters where whales churn the waves,

and when autumn deepens and your wings have grown, I shall watch you soar freely."

He also said:

"You go in pairs and threes, like close brothers;

autumn has come, but your wings have not yet grown.

I release you back to the deep blue sea,

and let you unfold your nature fully among the vast surging waves."

The next day the Master resumed his journey. On the ninth day of that month they reached Yunzhong, where the Commissioner-General A'buhe and the Daoist assembly came out of the city to greet them and carried the Master to the government residence in a buban (a palanquin carried by people).

After staying in Yunzhong for more than twenty days, Qiu Chuji received daily visits of respect from the officials below the chief administrator, morning and evening. The local scholar-officials also came to seek his instruction, and Qiu composed a poem to present to them:

"Ordered home, I must hurry, for spring is when all things flourish. The three yang (the stage in the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang in which yang qi gradually grows strong) first begin to transform, and the one qi harmonizes naturally. Post-station horses will escort me along the way, and mountain ridges will line the clouds on every side. The capital lies ten thousand li away; what will it matter if I return again?"

On the thirteenth day, the imperial envoy Alixian intended to travel to Shandong to summon the people to submit, and he earnestly asked Qiu Chuji to let his disciple Yin Zhiping accompany him. Qiu said, "Heaven has not yet permitted it. Even if you go, what good will it do?" Alixian bowed and pleaded again: "If the ruler leads a great army here, the common people will certainly be slaughtered. I beg you, Venerable Master, to speak a word of mercy on their behalf." Qiu was silent for a long time before replying, "Even if we cannot save them, it is better than watching them die." He then ordered Qinghe Zhenren to go with them and gave them two proclamations of summons.

Hearing that many Daoist priests from the areas south of Xuande were coming to pay their respects, Qiu worried that his attendants would be overwhelmed by the hospitality they would have to provide. He therefore had Yin Zhiping keep them in order, and he wrote in his own hand:

"Traveling ten thousand li along the road, going away for three full years. Among the many Daoist priests, some are wild and unrestrained, and do not keep to the rules. When Master Yin arrives, he should deal with them according to circumstances, and not obstruct the propagation of the Dao and the transformation of customs within the Teaching. The fortune of living beings is thin, and they are easily swayed by their circumstances. Climbing a mountain is difficult, but going down a slope is effortless."

The commander of Xuande, Yelü Gong, sent an envoy to Yunzhong with a letter and presented his own horse to Qiu Chuji. In early autumn of the eighth month, Qiu set out to the east, passing through Yanghe, Baideng, Tiancheng, and Huaian, and crossed the Hun River. Twelve days later he reached Xuande. The commander prepared a ceremonial procession and went out of the city to the west to greet him from afar. Qiu took up residence in the Chaoyuan Abbey within the prefecture, where he was honored by his fellow Daoists, and he composed a poem of forty characters:

"Ten thousand li of wandering through the human world, three years apart from my homeland. When I look back, people have grown old; everything I have passed before my eyes is like a dream, and it stretches on so long."

Heaven and earth stretch vast and boundless, and the affairs of the world, tangled and disordered, grow ever more remote and hard to discern. The regions of Jiangnan and the far north have been this way since ancient times.

Among the Daoist companions, someone said that the previous winter they had seen Xujing Xiansheng (Master Xujing), Mr. Zhao, leading a horse in from outside the gate. Everyone went out to greet him, but he suddenly vanished. People in the Dexing and Anding areas also claimed to have seen him. Officials, generals, and common people of the prefectures north of the Yellow River sent letters inviting him, so many that they gathered like the spokes of a cartwheel. He replied only briefly. Someone remarked: "The royal house is not yet settled, yet the Daomen (Way-gate) flourishes first. To ferry across those who have the affinity, the work of the Dao is vast and boundless. The commanders in every quarter turn to us with sincerity, and their only regret is that he cannot divide himself to answer each of their hopes."

On the first day of the tenth month, a jiao (a Daoist rite of altar offerings for prayer, blessing, and averting calamity) was held at the Longmen River. On the fifteenth, another was held at the Chaoyuan Guan (Abbey of the Court of Origins) in this prefecture. On the fifteenth day of the eleventh month, Song Defang and others recalled the white bones they had passed at Yehu Ridge earlier and their vow to deliver the lost souls. They joined with Taijun Yin Qianyi (Lady Yin Qianyi) to hold a jiao at the Longyang Guan in Dexing to rescue the wandering spirits. The weather had been somewhat cold in the preceding days, yet during the ritual it stayed as warm as spring for two or three days running.

After the ritual, Marshal Jia Chang came to the emperor's temporary residence to convey the imperial decree: "The immortal has traveled from spring into summer, and the journey has been hard. Are the provisions and post-horses you received adequate? Upon reaching Xuande and other places, did the local officials make careful arrangements for your food and lodging? And how has the work of summoning the nearby people to submit gone? I think of the immortal constantly; may the immortal not forget me either."

On the sixteenth day of the twelfth month, a jiao was held at the Three Hostels in Weizhou, while the Master remained at the Longyang Guan to spend the winter. Morning and evening he often walked along Longgang Ridge, gazing down on Dexing. Seeing the villages desolate after the war, he composed a poem to give voice to his feelings:

In former years the groves rose high,

their branches interlaced, blotting out sky and sun;

now village and street lie open everywhere.

Countless people have met the blade,

and how many fine houses have turned to ash?

He added: "Throughout the ages, how many heroes have there been who could compose a thousand or ten thousand sorrowful poems? Inquiring into the principles beyond the mundane world may be better pursued in quiet stillness."

The Master also said: "Heroic men may lament and chant by the thousands of poems, but how many have there ever been, from antiquity to now? Only by exploring the subtle delights beyond the mundane world and dwelling in quiet retreat can one escape the cycle of rebirth and shed the bonds of the dusty world."

On the first day of the second month of the jiashen year, the Master presided over a jiao (Daoist rite of petition and averting calamity) at Qiuyang Guan on Jin Mountain. Qiuyang Guan lies on the southern slope of Dahe Mountain, where the streams and hills are clear and lovely, and where mist, clouds, and moonlight mingle among the pines and wisteria, making it a place well suited to cultivating the Way (Dao). The Master wrote a poem describing the scenery: "Behind Qiuyang Guan, the green cliffs run deep and secluded; ten thousand acres of mist and rosy haze shine upon the emerald peaks. Along a path lined with peach blossoms, the stream rushes forward, its winding waters flowing straight into the depths of the grotto-heaven (dongtian)." The Master wrote again: "The mountains stretch on, verdant and lofty; it is said that immortals pass over them day and night. The grottoes are deep and ordinary people cannot reach them, yet at times one can hear immortal songs echoing from the cliffs."

Officials including Lord Jinzi Shimo of the Yanjing provincial administration and Commissioner Liu Bianyi sent men to earnestly request that the Master take up residence at Great Tianchang Guan, and the Master agreed. Later the court dispatched post-riders to summon the Master, who then crossed Juyong Pass and headed south. Daoist friends from Yanjing welcomed the Master at Shenyou Guan at Nankou. Early the next morning, elders and men and women of the common people from every quarter, holding incense and flowers, escorted the Master into the city, and the road was crowded with people who came to gaze upon and worship the Master.

When the Master first set out to the west, people had asked when the Master would return. The Master had replied, "In three years I will return, in three years I will return." This indeed came to pass. From the day of arrival until the seventh, when the Master entered Tianchang Guan, the number of people coming to fast and make offerings each day exceeded a thousand. On the fifteenth, the crowd requested that the Master go to Yuxu Guan.

On the twenty-fifth of this month, Hela came to the travelling palace to convey an imperial decree: "The immortal has come to the land of Han and teaches the multitudes through the pure Way, chanting scriptures and praying for my long life every day. This is good. Let the immortal choose a dwelling place among the fields I have bestowed." The emperor further said to Alixian, "The immortal is advanced in years. Protect and look after the immortal well, and do not forget what I said before."

In midsummer, Lord Jinzi Shimo of the provincial administration and Commissioner Liu again submitted a memorial, earnestly requesting that the Master take charge of Great Tianchang Guan. On the twenty-second of this month, the Master accepted the invitation and went. In the sky, several cranes flew ahead as guides, heading toward the northwest.

When the Perfected Changchun (Changchun Zhenren) resided at the Yuxu Palace, whether he was within the palace or visiting the homes of others to receive ritual offerings, three or five cranes would often fly down and call out from the rooftops. In the north, few people had long followed the Dao (the Way). At this time, the sages wished to draw people toward Daoism, and so they displayed this sign as proof of its efficacy. The multitude who took part in the Eight Assemblies all bowed to the ground and performed the Daoist rites, and the customs of the time were thereby transformed.

The well water at the Yuxu Palace had originally been brackish and bitter. During the years jiashen and yiyou, many Daoist adepts came from the west, and the well water became sweet. This too was the result of good karmic affinity.

On the fifteenth day of the last month of summer, the imperial envoy Xiangong Zhaba conveyed the emperor's decree: "Since the immortal departed, I have not forgotten him for a single day, and the immortal has not forgotten me. Wherever the immortal delights to dwell within my lands, he may make his home there. It would be excellent if his disciples recite the scriptures often and offer prayers on my behalf."

After the Changchun Zhenren returned, Daoist priests gathered from every region, and heterodox doctrines gradually subsided. The people of the capital all turned to admire and follow Daoism together, as though every household had heard its teachings. The doors were opened far wider than before, and its influence surpassed what it had been in the past.

Afterward, eight Daoist assemblies were established at Tianchang, named the Equality Assembly, the Changchun Assembly, the Lingbao Assembly, the Changsheng Assembly, the Mingzhen Assembly, the Pingan Assembly, the Xiaozai Assembly, and the Wanlian Assembly. After the Zhenren returned to Tianchang, Daoists from distant regions came one after another to request Daoist names, and their numbers grew steadily. He instructed them with four verses.

The first verse reads: "The emotions of the mortal world are hard to sever, yet the fajie (the dharma-realm, the totality of the states in which all things and beings exist) does have times of dissolving and transforming. Likes and dislikes entangle the heart; what can one do about drifting and sinking in bitter straits?"

The second verse reads: "There is something precious that existed before Heaven and Earth, and nameless things do not arise without cause. The human heart always has hidden depths that are hard to fathom, while the dharma-realm lets them move freely through their crossings and transformations."

The third verse reads: "Chasing external things dazzles the eyes, and toiling for a living wearies body and mind. All things in the world are unreal, yet the heart does not know the principle of emptiness."

The fourth verse reads: "Yesterday the thoughts ran wild, and today's deeds are no different."

Rather than dwelling on worldly affairs, it is better to let go of them all and keep the mind always clear and empty. After each period of fasting and purification (zhaijie), the Master would visit the Qionghua Garden, a former imperial park, accompanied by six or seven people. They would sit quietly in the shade of the pine trees. Sometimes the Master composed poems, and the companions took turns responding with verses of their own. After tea, the Master would ask those present to sing several songs of the "Songs of Roaming among Immortals" (Youxian qu). They remained there, content and forgetful of returning home, until the sun set.

The provincial officials and the imperial envoy Duke Zha Ba then offered the Master the garden, the pond of the Northern Palace, and several dozen qing of land nearby, and asked that a Daoist hall (daoyuan) be established there. The Master declined at first, and only accepted after the company repeatedly pleaded. The government then issued a proclamation forbidding the cutting of firewood and the felling of trees, and assigned Daoist companions (daolü, fellow cultivators) to gradually repair the grounds and buildings. Later, the Master submitted a memorial reporting these matters, and the emperor approved the request. From that time on, whenever the weather was pleasant, the Master would often stroll through the garden.

During the Cold Food Festival, the Master composed two poems. The first reads: The garden holds ten qing of square ponds, once an idle imperial park, where dense pines and cypresses are shrouded in a serene mist. Pavilions, towers, and worldly affairs have dissolved like dreams, while the spring flowers seem to belong to the realm of immortals. Nothing in the world is more tranquil than this place; within the human realm there seems to remain only the pure, quiet world of the moon palace. I know well that this was arranged by the work of creation, and I wish to give this garden to the officials and the common people, so that it will not fall into ruin and instead bring calamity.

The second reads: In the Qingming season, apricot blossoms are in bloom, and people come and go from every household. Beyond the garden, the spring waters stretch wide, and a gentle warm breeze stirs through the pine forest. Travelers sigh that the setting sun urges them to return, but those who have grasped the Dao regard the brief spring with composure. How can one refine the Great Elixir (dadan), the elixir pursued in Daoist cultivation, and be transformed to the point of shedding the old body? If one could do so, one might ascend and become an immortal, reaching the Yulu Terrace (Yuluo tai), a realm of immortals in Daoist legend.

In the yiyou year, in the fourth month, the Pacification Commissioner Wang Juchuan invited the Master to his residence for a period of fasting. Wang was a native of Guanyou (the area of the Guanzhong region), and when he spoke of the lush bamboo and trees of Xianyang and Zhongnan Mountain, he asked the Master to view the bamboo in his courtyard. The Master said: "These bamboos are exceptionally graceful. After the upheavals of war, such bamboo has become very rare. When I once lived at Panxi, the dense forests and elegant bamboo there were truly a wonder of the world. Thinking of them now, it feels like a dream. I am already old, and the time of my return is near. Please give me several dozen culms to plant in the northern pavilion of Baoyuan, so that I may look at them at my leisure."

The Commissioner said: "Across the world, after the experience of war..."

I am now old, and the time for my departure is near. Please give me several dozen bamboo stalks to plant beside the North Pavilion at Baoyuan, so that they may shade my eyes for a little while. The Pacification Commissioner replied: "The wars in the realm have not yet ended, and the common people are suffering greatly. Our sovereign reveres the Daoist teaching and honors the Way, relying on your Perfected One's Dao-power to protect the living. Why do you suddenly speak in this manner? I beg you to show great compassion and keep the rescue of the people in mind." The Perfected One tapped the ground with his staff and laughed: "The decree of Heaven is already fixed. Can it be changed by human beings?" Those present could not fathom his meaning.

At the end of the fifth month, the Perfected One climbed to the summit of Shoule Mountain and looked out over the surrounding gardens. The gardens seemed like a curtain of green, and travelers resting in their shade did not feel the heat of summer. The Perfected One then composed a five-character poem:

"The land lies near the frontier, and the city has endured through past and present. Though most of the palaces have already fallen into ruin, the fine gardens remain. Green trees gather in layers, and a cool breeze blows in gusts. It is as though one has arrived on an immortal isle, and gazing out in all eight directions, one may chant aloud."

Another account records that after the Perfected One returned from Qiong Island, Chen Xiuyu, the Gentleman, came to visit him. The Perfected One showed him a seven-character regulated poem:

"The green mountains rise steep and abrupt, a solitary peak leaning straight against the sky. The cypresses are deep and dark, encircling the halls. Ten thousand acres of mist and rosy clouds hold their own scenery, and a single river of wind and moon is rarely found in ordinary places. Tall pines stand beside the deep ravine, and strange rocks are set into the air, like the Lake Tai stones. All of this is a life of free longevity and untroubled cultivation, where one cultivates the Perfect and accumulates merit, surpassing the bustle of the capital."

In early autumn of the ninth month, the Pacification Commissioner Wang became alarmed because Yinghuo (the ancient name for the planet Mars) had encroached upon the Tail lunar mansion. He took this as an omen of disaster for the Yan region, and he resolved to ask the Perfected One to hold a jiao (a Daoist ritual of prayer for blessing and averting calamity), inquiring how much it would cost. The Perfected One replied: "If a single object loses its proper place, I cannot bear it, and how much less so the people of an entire region? In recent years the common people have borne the heavy burden of corvée labor, and both the public treasury and private households have been exhausted. I will use the goods that are regularly kept at this temple to hold the ritual. The capital officials need only fast and wait to perform the ceremony; nothing else need be spent." Accordingly, they agreed to hold the jiao over two days and two nights. Disregarding his advanced age, the Perfected One personally prayed at the Xuan Altar (the ritual platform on which Daoist liturgy is performed). On the night the ritual concluded, the Pacification Commissioner joyfully congratulated him and said: "Yinghuo has already withdrawn several lunar mansions, and we have nothing more to fear."

The Master's virtue (De) and influence took effect so quickly! When asked about it, the Master replied, "What virtue do I have? Prayer has existed since ancient times. The only concern is whether people's hearts are sincere enough. The ancients said, 'Utmost sincerity can move Heaven,' and that is exactly this principle."

On the Double Ninth Festival, Daoists (Daozhong) from distant places gathered, and some brought chrysanthemums as offerings to the Master. The Master composed a lyric (ci) to the tune "Hen Huan Chi" (Regret for Joy's Delay):

A certain spirit seedling, its nature unlike any other, waits until the autumn wind rises and the chill seeps into its roots before it opens its blossoms, filling myriads of places. Its golden stamens are tender and bright, reflecting the clear emptiness of heaven and earth. The Double Ninth Festival brings the chrysanthemums, which fill one corner of the banquet table. Those present look upon them, and the scene before their eyes remains tranquil as ever. It seems to accompany those who attain long life and lasting vision, never withering, and can keep them company in leisurely retirement for a long time.

Afterward, a Daoist adherent brought a large sheet of cocoon paper (jianzhi) and asked the Master to write something by hand. The Master wrote the lyric "Feng Qi Wu" (Phoenix Roosting in the Paulownia):

To know when to stop, and to rest in time, is to attain free and easy wandering, without needlessly wearing out body and mind. Since ancient times, how many clever and outstanding people have hurried about, only to waste their lifelong ambitions in vain? The changes of the world follow no fixed course: yesterday one was singing and drinking merrily, and today sorrow and worry have already arrived. If we do not yet know what tomorrow will bring, why should we exhaust our minds over trivial matters?

One day, someone questioned the Master about the matters from earlier, challenging who was right and who was wrong. The Master remained calm and did not answer, instead gently guiding them with the principles of righteousness. The Master also recited a verse: "Brush away, brush away, brush away again, and sweep clean every stray thought from the heart. When the heart holds no stray thoughts, one becomes a good person; a good person is an immortal, or a Buddha." Ashamed, the person withdrew after hearing this.

In the first month of the Bingxu year, Panshan invited the Master to preside over a Huanglu Jiao (Yellow Register Offering), a Daoist purification ritual of prayer and blessing lasting three days and three nights. On the day of the ritual, the weather was clear and fair, and people's spirits were lifted, as if spring had come to the cold valley. On the night before the ritual began, the Master composed a poem to show the assembly:

The mountain path winds deep among the peaks, and the steep heights open the hearts of visitors. The summits rise in rivalry, and the deep valley appears especially secluded. It seems as though flying immortals are passing by, yet no roosting birds are seen taking flight at night. Daoist priests perform the ritual for three days and three nights, and the common people of ten thousand households come forward, all dressed in plain white.

In the fifth month, the capital was struck by a severe drought. The farmland could not be sown, and the people were deeply anxious. The authorities moved the markets elsewhere, set up altars, and prayed for several dozen days without any effect. The Provincial Secretariat (the highest local administrative body) then sent an official with a memorial to request that Perfected Changchun (Changchun Zhenren) hold a jiao ritual (a Daoist sacrificial rite lasting three days and two nights) to pray for rain.

On the day the jiao ritual was performed and the divine was respectfully invited to descend, clouds gathered quickly that evening, and rain soon followed. It fell from midnight until breakfast time and had not yet stopped. The provincial official came with incense to express his thanks, saying, "The capital has been dry for a long time. The fields all around are parched as if they might catch fire, the crops have not been sown, and the people can hardly survive. Everything depends on the Perfected's Daoist power, which moved the Supreme True (the supreme deity revered in Daoism) to send timely rain. The people all say this rain was bestowed by the immortals."

The Perfected replied, "It was your utmost sincerity that moved the Supreme Sage, and in his compassion the Supreme Sage sent rain to save the people. What merit do I have?"

After the envoy had left, someone came back to report: "The rain has fallen, but the land that has been dry for so long has not been soaked through. If another heavy rain could come, the drought would be relieved. We earnestly beg the Perfected for his compassion."

The Perfected said, "Do not worry. When people move the Supreme True with utmost sincerity, the Supreme True responds with sincere intent, and a heavy rain will surely come." Before the jiao ritual had ended, the rain surged like rising waves and poured down in torrents. That year the harvest was abundant, and famous scholars and eminent Confucian masters composed poems in celebration. Among them, Grand Minister Wu Deming presented four quatrains.