《歷世真仙體道通鑑》Vol. 38

Feng Qushe was from Longqiu in Quzhou, and his family lived at the foot of Jiufeng Mountain. He entered the Dao and began cultivating when he was young. He traveled widely to study, devoting himself to Daoist arts and often working without tiring. In his thirties, he moved into Anhe Abbey in Songyang County. Tradition says the abbey stood in the hometown of Ye Jingneng and was where Ye had studied the Dao in his early years. Five li north of the abbey was Maoshan, a mountain more than fifty zhang high. It was said that both Celestial Master Zhang and Ye Jingneng had cultivated the Dao there. Admiring their deeds, Feng climbed Maoshan and built a thatched hut to live in.

Later, the Daoist priests at the abbey and the people living below the mountain built him a house and then constructed a hall. There they enshrined statues of Lord Lao and Celestial Master Zhang, along with a portrait of Ye Jingneng. Morning and evening, they burned incense, cultivated, and paid their respects. On the mountain’s southeastern slope lay a square stone, more than two zhang wide and as smooth as a whetstone. It was thought to be naturally formed. Feng often sat on it, hands clasped, sitting quietly and focusing his thoughts.

One day, he sensed the presence of a divine being. The being told him, “Celestial Master Zhang has two swords for slaying demons and a bottle of elixir, all hidden beneath this stone. You may take them.” Feng thanked the being, but said, “This stone was formed by Heaven; no human strength can move it. I know only that my understanding is shallow. I wish only to keep to the true Dao, make my home on this mountain, and remain under the protection of the spirits for a long time. How could I take the elixir and precious swords so casually?” The being replied, “If you cultivate diligently and do not slacken, the swords and elixir will come to you of their own accord.”

Three years later, the divine being brought Feng the swords and elixir. The sword was Celestial Master Zhang’s Seven-Star Sword. The elixir was stored in a stone case, which had been placed inside a bottle. When poured out, it amounted to more than a dou. Each pellet was about the size of a hemp seed, red and brightly gleaming. Feng took some himself and gave some to others. Everyone who took it recovered.

At that time, Hua Zao of Lishui County gathered local people after the disorder and famine of the Zhonghe era, occupied the mountain strongholds, and took control of the eastern part of Zhejiang. The military governor of eastern Zhejiang reported the matter to the court. After deliberating, the court decided to end the fighting and appointed Hua Zao prefect. But Hua was a treacherous man. When he heard that Feng Qushe had received a divine gift of a precious sword and elixir, he sent soldiers to surround Maoshan and bring Feng, along with the sword and elixir, to the prefectural city. He seized the sword and elixir and locked Feng in an empty room. It was the height of summer, and Hua kept him without water for a full month, believing him to be dead. But when the door was opened, Feng was seen sitting with a solemn expression, his complexion rosy and fair, and looking healthier than when he had been brought there. Hua was greatly astonished.

After that strange event, Qushe returned the sword, left behind the elixirs, and spent the night in the mountains. In the night, wind and thunder raged, and the sword suddenly flew up with a ringing cry. When Qushe awoke, he found it gone. He heard that the sword had returned beneath the stone. Afterward, Qushe lived in the mountains for more than fifteen years. He often said he saw tigers, dragons, and strange birds moving about near the courtyard.

Daoist priests from Anhe Abbey often stayed on the mountaintop. When Qushe burned incense and made his reports, they saw the tracks of tigers, dragons, and birds and were astonished. For many years, Qushe ate nothing. If anyone did something filthy on the mountain, fierce beasts came to harass them in spring and winter, while in autumn and summer they were bitten by venomous snakes. Qushe also said that during thunderstorms, clouds often lingered halfway up the mountain. There he had seen cloud dragons, the Lord of Thunder, the Lady of Lightning, and many spirits and ghosts. They sometimes came there to meet, and all treated one another with great courtesy.

When other Daoist priests lodged there, they sometimes heard what sounded like people conversing at night in the quiet room where Qushe lived. They would secretly peer inside, but could only smell a rich fragrance filling the room and hear the sound of jade pendants. At times they also saw four figures seated facing one another. One wore a far-traveling cap and crimson robes; another had a coiled topknot and wore blue-green garments. Their attendants were all jade boys and jade maidens, their bodies shining with light. Other divine beings stood at a distance nearby. The priests did not dare disturb them and offered reverent worship.

One day, Qushe said to the Daoist priests, “I fear I must leave this mountain. We will not be able to meet often anymore.” A few days later, colored clouds gathered around the peaks. Luan birds and swans—legendary divine birds—called out, and immortal music rang through the sky as they circled above the mountaintop. Then carriages and ceremonial banners appeared. Divine officers rode dragons and deer, all in five colors, while others rode luan birds and phoenixes to welcome Qushe. He ascended to Heaven and departed. Many monks, laypeople, and townsfolk watched from below the mountain.

Lan Caihe

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

He often walked through towns singing and begging from passersby, holding a large clapper more than three feet long. He was usually drunk as he strode along, singing to the beat, and people of all ages followed to watch. Quick-witted and eloquent, he loved to joke. When he came to someone’s door, whatever they said in passing, he would immediately have a reply, making everyone laugh until they fell over. He seemed mad, but did not seem truly insane.

As he walked, he shook his shoes and sang to the beat: “Step, step, sing—Lan Caihe! How much time can anyone have in this world? A lovely face is like a tree in spring; time flies past like a shuttle. The ancients have departed one after another and will never return; people today come and go, but how many are there? At dawn, ride a luan bird to the blue sky; by dusk, see mulberry fields turned into white waves. The bright sun shines on and on…”

In the sky stood towering palaces and pavilions of gold and silver. Most of the songs he wrote were composed on a whim, and all were imbued with the flavor of the immortals; no one else could fathom them. He strung coins together with a cord and dragged them along as he walked. Sometimes the coins scattered, but he never turned back to look. At other times, if he met someone poor, he gave them the money. He also often drank at taverns and traveled throughout the land. Some people had seen him as children and met him again when their hair had turned white, yet his appearance remained just as it had been.

Later, he walked and sang in the area around Hao Liang—“treading the song” means singing while stepping to the beat—and then drank in a tavern. As he became drunk, sounds of cranes, sheng mouth organs, and xiao flutes suddenly came from among the clouds. He promptly rose lightly into the clouds, tossing down his boots, robe, belt, and clapper, a percussion instrument used to keep the beat. He drifted farther and farther away. Before long, the clothes and instruments disappeared as well.

Zhang Guo

Zhang Guo lived in seclusion on Mount Tiao in Hengzhou and traveled between Fenzhou and Jinzhou. People at the time said he possessed secret methods for attaining long life. Older people said that when they were children, they had already heard that Zhang Guo had lived for several hundred years. He often rode a white donkey that could travel tens of thousands of li in a day. When he rested, he folded the donkey up until it was as thin as a sheet of paper and put it in a towel box. When he wanted to ride it, he sprinkled it with water, and it became a donkey again.

Emperor Taizong and Emperor Gaozong of the Tang summoned him, but he refused to leave his retreat. When Wu Zetian summoned him, he feigned death in front of the Dunu Temple. The weather was hot, and before long his corpse began to rot and breed maggots. Wu Zetian therefore believed that he had truly died. (Another account says that he later lived in seclusion in Fengzhou, spending the summer on Mount Douji and the winter on Mount Luangluan. When Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang summoned him, he did not answer the summons.)

Later, someone saw Zhang Guo again in the mountains of Hengzhou. In the twenty-third year of the Kaiyuan era, Emperor Xuanzong sent the Palace Messenger Pei Wu by relay horse to Hengzhou to welcome him. Zhang Guo stopped breathing as soon as he saw Pei Wu. Pei Wu then burned incense and read aloud the emperor’s wish to invite him to court. After a while, Zhang Guo gradually revived. Pei Wu did not dare press him to come and hurried back to report.

The emperor then ordered the Secretariat Drafter Xu Jiao and the Palace Messenger Lu Chongxuan to take an imperial edict and welcome Zhang Guo. Zhang Guo accompanied Xu Jiao to the Eastern Capital, meaning Luoyang; Emperor Xuanzong was then visiting the hot springs and had also gone to the eastern capital, Luoyang. Zhang Guo was lodged at the Jixian Academy and carried into the palace in a sedan chair. He was received with great care, and the high ministers and officials all came to pay their respects.

The emperor asked him about the immortals, but he gave no answer. He was skilled at holding his breath and could go many days without eating, though he often drank wine. When the emperor offered him wine, he declined, saying, “Your humble servant can drink no more than two sheng. But I have a disciple who can drink a dou.” Emperor Xuanzong was delighted and ordered someone to summon the disciple. Before long, a young Daoist priest of sixteen or seventeen flew down from the eaves of the palace hall. He was handsome, with an elegant and unworldly bearing.

When Zhang Guo—an immortal of Daoism, commonly known as Zhang Guolao—was received at court, he spoke with easy grace and observed every courtesy. Emperor Ming of Tang invited him to sit, but Zhang Guo said, “Your disciple should stand respectfully to one side. I dare not accept the honor of a seat.” The emperor was even more pleased and offered him wine. Zhang Guo drank a full dou without getting drunk, then declined further wine. “Please do not offer me any more. Too much wine will surely make me lose my composure and give Your Majesty a laugh.” The emperor insisted. Suddenly Zhang Guo emerged from the top of his own head. His hat fell to the ground and turned into the lid of a wine vessel. The emperor and his consorts stared in astonishment and laughed. When they looked closely, the Daoist had vanished, leaving only a golden wine vessel lying upside down on the ground. They lifted its lid and found a full dou of wine inside. On inspection, it proved to be the wine vessel from the Jixian Institute.

Zhang Guo often displayed immortal arts, changing in ways beyond number. He once said, “I was born in the bingzi year of Emperor Yao, when I held the office of Attendant-in-Chief.” He looked to be about sixty or seventy years old. Xing Heping was skilled at calculating how long people would live, and Shuai Yeguang was skilled at seeing ghosts and spirits. The emperor asked Xing Heping to calculate Zhang Guo’s lifespan, but Xing was completely at a loss. The emperor then secretly sent Shuai Yeguang to look for Zhang Guo, but Shuai could not see where he was either.

The emperor said to Gao Lishi, “I have heard that anyone who drinks jin—a poisonous plant—and suffers no harm is a true marvel.” The weather was cold, so the emperor brought Zhang Guo wine made from jin. Zhang Guo drank three times, then, as if drunk, said, “This wine is nothing special.” He lay down to sleep. Before long, the emperor saw that his teeth had turned black and shriveled, and ordered an attendant to bring an iron ruyi scepter and knock them out. Zhang Guo gathered the teeth into his sash, then took out medicine and applied it to them. A short while later, new teeth grew back, white and even.

The emperor was hunting in Xianyang when he caught a large deer and ordered the cooks to prepare it. Zhang Guo said, “This is an immortal deer. It has lived for more than a thousand years. In the fifth year of the Yuanshou era under Emperor Wu of Han, I attended him on a hunt in Shanglin Park. We caught this deer, then released it.” The emperor said, “There are many deer. Dynasties rise and fall, and time passes. How could it have escaped being caught by hunters again?” Zhang Guo replied, “When Emperor Wu released it, he marked it by engraving a copper tag beneath its left horn.” The emperor ordered it examined. Sure enough, they found a copper tag about two inches long, though its inscription had grown indistinct. The emperor asked, “What year was the Yuanshou era, and how many years have passed since then?” Zhang Guo said, “That was the guihai year, when Emperor Wu had just begun digging Kunming Lake. It is now the jiaxu year, eight hundred and fifty-two years later.” The emperor ordered the court astronomers to check the calendar, and their findings were in broad agreement.

The emperor asked Ye Fashan, “What sort of being is Zhang Guo?” Ye Fashan replied, “I know, but if I say it, I will die. I dare not speak. If Your Majesty is willing to remove your hat and go barefoot to save me, I may survive.” The emperor agreed. Ye Fashan said, “He is a white bat spirit from the time when the primordial chaos first separated…”

As soon as he finished speaking, blood flowed from Zhang Guo’s seven apertures—his eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth—and he collapsed, rigid, onto the ground. The official hurried to Zhang Guo’s residence, removed his hat, went barefoot, and declared himself guilty. Zhang Guo said slowly, “This child has spoken with great presumption. If he were not punished, he might reveal the secrets of Heaven and Earth.” The official pleaded for a long time before Zhang Guo finally sprinkled water on the man’s face. Fashan then revived. The emperor’s respect for Zhang Guo deepened, and he issued an order for a portrait of him to be painted at the Jixian Institute.

The edict read: “Master Zhang Guo of Hengzhou lives beyond the ordinary world. His aspirations are lofty, yet he keeps himself hidden, blending with the mundane without revealing his unusual nature. Summoned to court, no one could tell his age; he was called a sage from the age of Fuxi, the legendary sage ruler of antiquity. When asked about the essentials of the Great Dao, he grasped its intent and understood its finer meaning. Now that he is about to leave court and return home, I bestow these honors upon him: Silver-Green Grand Master of Splendid Happiness, with the title Master Tongxuan.” Zhang Guo repeatedly explained that he was old and ill, and asked to return to Hengzhou. The emperor gave him three hundred bolts of silk, assigned two disciples to accompany him, and arranged for him to be carried back to Hengzhou in a sedan chair at the relay stations. One disciple was sent back; the other followed Zhang Guo into the mountains.

At the beginning of the Tianbao era, Emperor Xuanzong of Tang sent someone to summon Zhang Guo. When Zhang Guo heard of it, he indicated that he had already died. After his disciples buried him, they later opened the tomb to look inside, but found only an empty coffin. The emperor had Qixia Temple built in his honor.

The courtier Daoyi said: Zhang Guo had transcended the ordinary and attained sagehood. He could die while seated or standing, and his transformations were without limit; his De was pure and upright. His stories of remaining in the world in bodily form are no different from those of Guangchengzi, Pengzu (Jian Keng), and others. It is truly difficult to attain such an immortal state. The Daodejing says: “In governing the people and serving Heaven, nothing is better than restraint. Restraint means responding to the Dao early; responding to the Dao early is called accumulating De deeply. When De is accumulated deeply, nothing cannot be overcome. When nothing cannot be overcome, no one knows one’s limits. When no one knows one’s limits, one can govern the state. Holding fast to the roots of the state, one can endure for a long time. This is the way of deep roots and firm foundations, of long life and lasting vision.” Zhang Guo was such a person.

Xu Xuanping

Xu Xuanping was from She County in Xin’an Commandery. During the Jingyun era of Emperor Ruizong of Tang, he lived in seclusion in a mountain hollow south of Chengyang Mountain, where he made a thatched hut for himself. He had never taken elixirs, yet looked to be about forty, and no one ever saw him eat. He moved lightly and walked very fast, sometimes even faster than a galloping horse. From time to time, he carried firewood to sell, with a flower-shaped gourd and a crooked bamboo staff often hanging from his wood carrier. He would often return to his dwelling in a drunken haze, reciting this poem: “At dawn I shoulder firewood and go to sell; as the sun sets, I buy wine and return. There is no need for people to ask about my affairs; I pass through the clouds into the green peaks.” For nearly thirty years, he sometimes helped people caught in urgent difficulties.

Xuanping sometimes helped those who were ill or suffering. People in the city often went to visit him, but never managed to see him. They could only read a poem inscribed on the wall of his hermitage:

“I have lived in seclusion for thirty years, building my dwelling on the summit of South Mountain. In the quiet of night I admire the bright moon; in my leisure I drink from the clear spring. Woodcutters sing among the valleys, and birds play before the rocks. Life is joyful; I do not notice old age, and have even forgotten how many years I have lived.”

Many people admired the poem and often recited it. Some who traveled to Chang’an along the post road also found it in an inn among the tung trees of Luoyang.

During the Tianbao era of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, Li Bai left the Hanlin Academy and traveled east. Passing the inn, he read the poem and, after reciting it, exclaimed, “This is the poem of an immortal!” He asked the local people about it and learned that it had been written by Xuanping. Li Bai then traveled to Xin’an, crossed a stream, and climbed into the mountains. He searched for Xuanping again and again, but never saw him, so he wrote a poem on the wall of the hermitage:

“I recited the poem at the inn and came to visit the immortal’s dwelling. Mist fills the mountain ridges, hiding the distant heights; the cloud-covered forest lies beyond the Great Void, too far away to reach. I peered into the courtyard and found only stillness and desolation; leaning on my staff, I wandered in vain. Perhaps you have become a crane in the far-off sky, and by the time you return, a thousand years will have passed.”

When Xuanping returned to his hermitage and saw the poem on the wall, he recited in turn:

“A pond of lotus leaves provides clothes without end; two acres of yellow essence provide more than enough to eat. Now people have come looking for me again, so I must move my hermitage and withdraw deeper into seclusion.”

Later, his hermitage was destroyed by a wildfire, and after that no one knew what had become of Xuanping.

More than a hundred years later, in the twelfth year of the Xiantong era of Emperor Yizong of Tang (871), a maid in the household of Xu Mingshu, a man from the commandery, once went into the mountains with her companions to gather firewood. One day, alone on South Mountain, she saw a man sitting on a rock, eating a very large peach. He asked her, “Are you one of Xu Mingshu’s household?” The maid replied, “Yes.” He said, “I am Xuanping, Mingshu’s ancestor.”

The maid said, “At home, we have often heard that our forefather attained the Dao and became an immortal many years ago, but we have never had the chance to seek him out.” Xuanping told her, “Go back and tell Mingshu for me: I am in these mountains. I’ll give you a peach to eat, but you must not take it out of the mountains. There are many tigers and wolves here, and the mountain god treasures this peach.” The maid ate it. It tasted exceptionally sweet, and she finished it in no time. Xuanping told her to follow the woodcutters home.

As she returned, the bundle of firewood on her shoulder felt lighter, and her body felt light and strong. When she got home, she recounted in detail how she had met their forefather Xuanping in the mountains. Mingshu, however, scolded her for speaking her ancestor’s personal name and raised his staff to strike her. As the staff came down, the maid sprang into the air and disappeared; no one knew where she had gone. Later, people who entered the mountains encountered her, still youthful in appearance and light of body.

Clad in tree bark, he moved as swiftly as the wind, then entered the forest and disappeared.

Xue Chang

The Daoist Xue Chang came from the area around Youzhou and Jizhou. During the Tianbao era of Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang, he lived at Dongtianguan, a Daoist temple on Mount Qingcheng in Shu. One day, he suddenly drank pokeweed wine—a medicinal wine brewed with pokeweed—and blood began to flow from his ears and nose. He died for three days. Then he suddenly revived. His skin had become fair, his appearance much younger, and his body light, his eyes bright, as if he were about to ascend to the heavens.

A few days later, he could see things both near and far from a great distance. Forested mountains, cliffs, and high peaks could not block his sight, and his hearing had become just as keen. At the time, Emperor Xuanzong favored Daoism, so the military governor invited Xue Chang to stay at a guesthouse, intending to send him to the capital by relay horse. But Xue Chang suddenly vanished. Some said they had seen him on Mount Damian.

Wu Yun

Wu Yun, courtesy name Zhengjie, was from Huayin. He was well versed in the classics and skilled at writing, but failed the jinshi examination. Upright and aloof by nature, he refused to adapt himself to worldly convention. He therefore left his home and settled near Mount Yichang in Nanyang.

In the early Tianbao era of Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang, Wu Yun was summoned to the capital and registered as a Daoist. He went to Mount Song, where he studied Daoist arts under Pan Shizheng. Later, he traveled south to Mount Tiantai to view the sea and associate with local scholars. His writings reached the capital, and Emperor Xuanzong sent for him. The emperor spoke with him in Datong Hall, greatly admired him, and appointed him to serve in the Hanlin Academy as an attendant scholar.

Emperor Xuanzong once asked him about the essence of the Dao. Wu Yun replied that nothing offered a deeper account of the Dao than Laozi’s five thousand words. The emperor then asked about immortals and methods of alchemy. Wu Yun answered that these were matters for practitioners of esoteric arts, requiring years of study, and not things a ruler should concern himself with. Whenever Wu Yun offered counsel, he used indirect language to speak to the emperor about Confucian instruction and the affairs of the state. The emperor held him in high regard.

The Buddhist monks in the palace envied the favor Wu Yun received. Gao Lishi, who had long been devoted to Buddhism, spoke ill of Wu Yun to the emperor. Wu Yun also believed that disorder was about to engulf the realm, so he asked to return to Mount Song. The emperor issued an edict ordering a Daoist temple to be built for him. Before long, An Lushan raised an army at Yuyang. Wu Yun then went to Mount Mao and later traveled east into the Shan region of Kuaiji.

Wu Yun explored the subtle mystery of the “Valley Spirit”—the hidden workings of the Dao that give life to and nourish all things—and wrote Treatise on the Mysterious Principle. Moved by how people of shallow purpose and limited vision turn away from the Great Dao, he wrote On the Teachability of Immortality. He explained how to cleanse body and mind and keep distracting thoughts from disturbing oneself in Cleansing the Heart and Rhapsody on Dwelling in the Rocks. He described cultivating inner sincerity and calming the spirit in Treatise on Heart and Vision and Hymn on Attuning to the Spirit. His other works, including Wandering as an Immortal, Pacing the Void, The Transformation of the Ruler, and Miscellaneous Reflections, numbered more than four hundred and fifty. Quan Deyu, Vice Minister of Rites, compiled these writings into a collection called …

Wu Yun (a Daoist priest) was disliked and excluded by the powerful minister Gao Lishi, so he often criticized Buddhism in his writings.

Wu Yun enjoyed exchanging poems with Kong Chaofu, and neither man’s work was considered inferior to the other’s. In the thirteenth year of the Dali era under Emperor Daizong of Tang, he burned incense and passed away at a Daoist temple in Xuancheng, returning to the true Dao. His disciple Shao Jiyuan and fellow disciples buried him at the western foot of Mount Tianzhu and privately gave him the posthumous title “Master Zongyuan.”

Li Bai

Li Bai, courtesy name Taibai, was the ninth-generation descendant of Emperor Xingcheng of the Tang dynasty. While his mother was pregnant, she dreamed of the star Chang Geng, and so he was given the name “Bai.” He was born in the year jihai, the second year of the Shengli era under Empress Wu Zetian. He began studying at the age of five, and by ten he had mastered the Book of Songs and the Book of Documents, and was also reading works by the various philosophical schools. Su Ting, a Tang writer, thought him extraordinary and remarked, “This child is exceptionally gifted. With only a little study, he could equal Sima Xiangru.”

At fifteen, Li Bai took an interest in swordsmanship and longed to follow the way of the immortals. He often stayed on Mount Min, exploring its landscapes and composing poems. Later he climbed Mount Emei and traveled through the Huai region, taking in the sights of Yunmeng Marsh. He married the granddaughter of the chancellor Xu Yushi and lived in Yunmeng for three years. He admired the strategies of the School of Diplomacy, excelled at swordsmanship, acted with generosity and boldness, cared little for money, and delighted in giving it away. After leaving Yunmeng, he went to the regions of Qi and Lu, then settled for a time in Rencheng. There he lived on Mount Zulai with Kong Chaofu, Han Zhun, Pei Zheng, Zhang Shuming, and Tao Mian. They became so absorbed in drinking that they were known together as the “Six Idlers of Zhuxi.”

In the sixteenth year of the Kaiyuan era under Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, Li Bai wrote in a letter to Pei Shi: “I have never slackened in my writing, and by now I have been at it for thirty years.”

In the year jiashen, the third year of the Tianbao era, Li Bai became friends with Wu Yun. Wu Yun had been summoned by imperial decree to serve at the Hanlin Academy. Li Bai also arrived in Chang’an and paid a visit at the Purple Ultimate Palace to He Zhizhang, a guest adviser to the crown prince. He took off his golden sable garments and exchanged them for wine, drinking and making merry to his heart’s content. After reading Li Bai’s writing, He Zhizhang exclaimed, “You are an immortal banished from Heaven!” He then recommended him to Emperor Xuanzong.

Xuanzong summoned Li Bai to the Golden Bell Hall and discussed affairs of state with him. Li Bai presented a memorial in praise of the emperor. Xuanzong offered him food and drink, even preparing a bowl for him himself, and issued an edict appointing him to the Hanlin Academy. Li Bai still often got thoroughly drunk in the marketplace with his drinking companions. Once, Xuanzong was seated at the Agarwood Pavilion and, moved by the moment, wanted Li Bai to compose a piece of court music. He summoned him to the palace, but Li Bai was already drunk. His attendants washed his face with water, and as soon as he had partly sobered up, he took up his brush and wrote a piece whose language was graceful and apt, as if composed without a thought. Xuanzong greatly admired his talent.

Once, Li Bai got drunk in Xuanzong’s presence and made Gao Lishi take off his boots. Gao felt humiliated and seized on lines from Li Bai’s poems as an opportunity to turn Yang Guifei against him. Xuanzong wanted to appoint Li Bai to an official post, but Yang Guifei repeatedly obstructed him. Li Bai consequently became even more proud and unconstrained. He drank with He Zhizhang, Li Shizhi, Prince Li Jin of Ruyang, Cui Zongzhi, Su Jin, Zhang Xu, Jiao Sui, and others; they were known as the “Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup.” Later, he pleaded to leave the court…

The emperor granted Li Bai gold and allowed him to leave court and return to his homeland. When Li Bai first departed from the Golden Gate, he intended to visit the Censor-in-Attendance, but did not find him there. He therefore composed a poem, “The Parrot”:

“Feathers falling, I take leave of the Golden Hall;

I spread my wings and soar, denouncing the officials in embroidered robes.

Though skilled in speech, I was ultimately cast aside;

I can only return to Mount Long and take flight once more.”

Later, Li Bai accompanied his grand-uncle Chenliu, the regional inspector Li Yanyun, and asked the Northern Sea Celestial Master Gao to confer Daoist registers upon him. (After receiving registers, a Daoist priest acquired the corresponding Daoist status and office.) When the register-conferral ceremony was over, he returned to the Northern Sea. He then traveled through Zhao, Wei, Yan, Jin, Qi, Bin, Shang, Luoyang, and Liang, and later journeyed through Qi and Lu and the regions around the Huai and Si rivers. He subsequently entered Wu again, made his way to Jinling, and went on to places such as Qiupu and Xunyang. He left poems and prose in these places, though the precise dates can no longer be established.

Li Bai spent much of his life traveling from place to place. On one occasion, he sailed with Cui Zongzhi from Caishi to Jinling. Wearing a splendid robe of palace brocade, he sat in the boat as though no one else were there.

On another occasion, Li Bai went sightseeing on Mount Hua. As he passed a county office, the magistrate was opening the office to attend to business. Li Bai was drunk and rode his donkey past the entrance. The magistrate grew angry. Not knowing who Li Bai was, he had him brought into the courtyard and demanded, “Who are you, to behave with such disrespect?” Li Bai asked to submit a written statement and replied, “I once used a dragon-patterned cloth to wipe the emperor’s saliva and prepared his soup. The Consort had my inkstone held for me, and the strongman helped me remove my boots. If I was allowed to gallop on horseback at the emperor’s gate, why should I be forbidden to ride a donkey in Huayin County?” The magistrate was greatly alarmed. He rose, bowed, and apologized, saying, “I did not realize that the Hanlin academician had come here.” Li Bai mounted his donkey and rode away.

In the fourteenth year of Tianbao (755), An Lushan launched a rebellion. Prince Yong, Li Lin, was ordered to make an eastern expedition. Li Bai had gone to Mount Lu to escape the turmoil, but Li Lin coerced him into joining the army. Later, when Prince Yong was defeated, Li Bai’s crime should have been punishable by death. Guo Ziyi asked to resign his office in order to redeem Li Bai’s offense. Li Bai was thus spared execution and exiled to Yelang. This was the first year of Qianyuan under Emperor Suzong of Tang (758).

Li Bai had earlier composed a poem describing the affair. Its general meaning is: “In the middle of the night, the naval forces arrived at Xunyang, their banners spread across the river. I had no intention of becoming involved, but in a moment of folly I was caught up in the affair and forced aboard the tower ship. The emperor had once bestowed five hundred gold pieces on me, but I cast them aside, and they vanished like smoke. I resigned from office and refused the reward, only to be banished to Yelang.” Later, while on the journey into exile, he received a pardon and was allowed to return. Afterward, he climbed Mount Wu and traveled downriver through Qutang, then went to Jiangxia, Xunyang, Jinling, Liyang, Xuancheng, and other places, leaving poems wherever he went. The details, however, are difficult to establish.

Throughout his life, Li Bai revered the immortals and studied Laozi’s Daoist teachings. In his “Ancient Airs,” he once wrote: “Mount Taibai rises high and distant beneath the vast blue sky; stars crowd thickly above its slopes. The mountain stands only three hundred li from Heaven, yet seems so far away as to be cut off from the human world. Within it lives an old man with green hair. Parting the clouds, he lies among the snow-covered pines. He neither smiles nor speaks, truly secluded within a rocky cavern. I came here to ask him for guidance…”

That man knelt before him and asked for the secret of cultivation. He smiled radiantly, then suddenly began to poke fun at himself, and afterward passed on to him the methods of preparing elixirs. The man etched his words into his heart. But when he stood up, the other man had vanished like lightning; he looked up, but could neither see nor catch up with him. Overcome with grief, he felt as though his insides were burning and said, “I shall go and refine cinnabar, and from now on leave the world of men for good.”

Another poem says: “Five immortal cranes flew in from the northwest, soaring above the Great Clarity (Taiqing), the Daoist celestial realm. An immortal stood upon green clouds, calling himself An Qisheng, a legendary immortal. Two white jade boys played the purple luan flute together. The immortal drifted down, reflected in the water, then vanished in an instant without stopping. He left me the Golden Light Herb; after taking it, my limbs felt light. I shall follow Red Pine Master, the legendary immortal, to play chess at Penglai and Yingzhou, the fabled islands of the immortals.”

Later, in the eleventh month of the first year of the Baoying era (762), Li Bai traveled from Jinling to Caishi and visited his kinsman Li Yangbing. According to legend, he drowned while trying to seize the moon. People believed this was “water liberation,” a Daoist account of an immortal escaping the mortal body by means of water. He lived to the age of sixty-four. After Emperor Daizong ascended the throne, he once summoned Li Bai to serve as Remonstrance Official. Someone reported in reply that Li Bai had already transformed and become an immortal.

The collected works of Li Bai of the Tang dynasty have been handed down to later generations. The preface says: Li Bai, whose courtesy name was Taibai, was from Chengji in Longxi and was the ninth-generation descendant of Li Hao, the Martial Sovereign of Liang. His ancestors had been eminent for generations, their official posts and ranks passing down through the family. In the middle period, however, the family was banished to Tiaozhi for an offense, and changed its surname and given names. Yet from Qiongchan to Shun, five generations were commoners; several generations passed without distinction or advancement, which is also regrettable.

At the beginning of the Shenlong era, Li Bai fled back to Shu. He said that he had been born pointing toward a plum tree, as Boyang (Laozi) had once done. On the night he was born, his mother dreamed that the Morning Star (Venus) entered her dream; so after his birth he was named “Bai,” with the courtesy name “Taibai.” After his death, people said he was formed from the essence of the planet Venus, and this too seemed to be confirmed.

Li Bai did not read books that went against the sages’ Way, and he was ashamed to write the lascivious songs associated with Zheng and Wei, an ancient label for certain popular folk songs. His writing therefore often had the celestial beauty of an immortal. Most of his works expressed his feelings through poetry and prose. Since the Three Dynasties of Xia, Shang, and Zhou, and after the Book of Odes and the Songs of Chu, his literary brilliance far surpassed that of Qu Yuan and Song Yu, and exceeded that of Yang Xiong and Sima Xiangru as well. For a thousand years, he stood alone at the forefront of poetry; there was no one but Li Bai. Princes and nobles therefore vied to follow him, while worthy men among the famed mountains and great rivers became his friends. Talented people gathered around him like birds flocking to the phoenix.

Lu, the Attendant at the Yellow Gate, said: “Chen Shiyi (Chen Ziang) fought to revive poetry as it declined, transforming the literary style throughout the realm. Even today, the forms of poetry still bear traces of the courtly style of the Liang and Chen dynasties. In the time of Lord Li, poetry underwent a great transformation, sweeping away the old, ornate style. Though collections of writing from ancient and modern times are many, they are often difficult to preserve. Only Lord Li’s works have spread everywhere; one might say his power could rival the force of creation itself.”

During the Tianbao era, the emperor issued an edict summoning Li Bai to court and appointed him to serve at the Golden Horse Gate. The emperor personally descended from his carriage and walked to welcome him, as he would have welcomed the four recluses Qili Ji, Dongyuan Gong, Xiahuang Gong, and Luli Xiansheng. The emperor bestowed upon him a seven-jeweled couch and had a meal served to him; he even prepared a bowl of soup with his own hands and fed it to him, saying, “You are a commoner…”

The emperor said, “I have long known of your reputation. If you had not built up the Dao and De through your conduct, how could you have reached this point?” He then allowed Li Bai access to the Golden Hall and appointed him to the Hanlin Academy, where he consulted him on matters of state. Li Bai secretly drafted imperial edicts. His upright colleagues envied his talent and slandered him; his forthright advice went unheeded, and the emperor gradually distanced himself from him. Li Bai then traveled from place to place, drinking freely to console himself and wear down his resolve. In his poems and songs, he often evoked Xie An’s seclusion on the Eastern Mountain. He also roamed with He Zhizhang, Cui Zongzhi, and others, calling their outings “the Eight Immortals’ excursions.” People called him the “Banished Immortal,” an immortal cast down into the human world. Officials at court wrote hundreds of songs about the “Banished Immortal,” most of them lamenting that he had not found success. The emperor knew Li Bai could not remain at court, so he bestowed gold and silk on him and sent him away.

Later, at the invitation of his distant cousin Yan Yun, an inspecting commissioner in Chenzhou, Li Bai went to the Purple Ultimate Palace in Qizhou, where he received Daoist registers—documents granting religious status and office—from the Northern Sea Celestial Master Gao, a Daoist priest. He planned to return east to Penglai. Li Yangbing was trying his hand at local administration in Dangtu, but Li Bai had little interest in such affairs. Li Yangbing did not look down on him, and the two met in a small boat, delighted to see each other. As the time approached for Li Bai to resign from office, he fell seriously ill. From his sickbed, he handed Li Yangbing a hundred volumes of draft poems and prose, asking him to write a preface. “When you discuss the meaning of the ‘Guanju,’ you make me ashamed that I am not the equal of Bu Shang (Zixia); when you discuss the language of the Spring and Autumn Annals, you make me ashamed that I am not the equal of Du Yu.” In the eight years since war broke out in the Central Plain and he was forced to flee, most of his writings from that period—eight or nine out of every ten—had been lost. What survived had largely been gathered from other people. This was the day of Jiyou, in the eleventh month of the first year of Baoying.

Early in the Yuanhe era of Emperor Xianzong of Tang, someone saw Li Taibai at sea, talking and laughing for a long time with a Daoist on a high mountain. Later, the Daoist rode away on a red horned dragon through the blue mist. Li Taibai leapt up and hurried after him, and they departed together.

Later, Bai Guinian went to Mount Song. From a distance, he saw ancient trees hanging over the eastern cliff like curtains. When he came closer, he found wine vessels and mats spread all around. Someone came forward and said, “Hanlin Li invites you.” Bai Guinian hurried closer. The man wore a broad robe and wide sash; his appearance was clear and radiant. He said, “I am Li Bai. Your ancestor was Bai Juyi. Though we did not live in the same age, we have met and talked because our interests were alike. Ever since I dissolved my body into water and withdrew from the world, as Daoist legend tells, I have lived in seclusion among mountains and rivers. Later, I longed for my native place and returned west to Mount Song. The Celestial Emperor sent up a memorial summoning me here, and I have been in charge of written petitions for a hundred years. Recently, passing through Tong Pass, I wrote these lines: ‘Once I went to the deep grotto of Peach Blossom Spring, where a wondrous song and dance summoned phoenixes; I often recall the moment of parting…’” The original text ends here, incomplete.

The bright moon shone over the fallen blossoms, and the mist lay thick. Everything seemed like a dream. With tears in her eyes, she came out to see him off.

Guinian asked, “Where is my ancestor now?” The other replied, “At Mount Wutai, overseeing matters of merit and virtue.” Then he added, “This was your aspiration in an earlier life.” He brought out a scroll and gave it to Guinian, saying, “Read it, and you will be able to understand the languages of birds flying through the Nine Heavens and beasts roaming the earth. If you then continue to accumulate merit and diligently do good deeds, you can attain the Dao and become an immortal.”

Later, Guinian traveled through Luzhou. When the prefect heard that he had extraordinary abilities, he summoned him and asked him about them. Two sparrows chirped as they flew across the courtyard. The prefect asked, “What are they saying?” Guinian replied, “They say someone in a household west of the city has opened a granary, and there is excess grain on the ground. They are going there together to eat.” The prefect sent someone to investigate, and it was just as Guinian had said.

On another occasion, a horse raised its head and neighed in the stable. The prefect asked what it was saying. Guinian replied, “It says the fodder in its trough is too hot to eat.” They went to check, and that too was true.

It was nearly the Qingming Festival, and officials were driving more than twenty sheep along. One sheep lagged behind and refused to move. When it was whipped, the lash made a sharp crack. The prefect asked, “Why won’t this sheep go?” Guinian replied, “It says there is a lamb in its belly and it is about to give birth. It asks to be left here to deliver, and afterward it is willing to go and die.” The prefect ordered them to leave the sheep behind. A little over a month later, it gave birth to a lamb, just as Guinian had said.

Later, Guinian left the mortal world and wandered beyond its bounds, and no one knew what became of him.

Bai Haiqiong said, “Li Bai is now the Pure and Untrammeled Perfected One of the Eastern Florescence, overseer of the Upper Clarity realm. Letian—the courtesy name of Bai Juyi—is now the Immortal Elder Lord of Penglai.”