《歷世真仙體道通鑑》Vol. 53

Zhang Xubai, whose courtesy name was Zhixiang, was from Nanyang in Dengzhou. He was registered among the Daoist priests of Taiyi Palace. Six feet tall, with a handsome beard, he was quiet and composed. He had mastered the Taiyi Liu Ren arts, a Daoist system of divination and prognostication, and devoted himself to the study of alchemy. Later, he met an extraordinary man and received the secrets of alchemy.

Zhang Xubai said that in a previous life he had been Master Zhang Bai of Wuling. His disciples calculated the year in which Master Zhang Bai underwent corpse liberation—a Daoist transformation in which the body is shed and one attains immortality—and compared it with the time of Zhang Xubai’s birth. The two dates matched as perfectly as a tally and its counterpart. Master Zhang Bai had loved wine throughout his life. He once wrote in a poem: “The Cui family’s wine beside the Wuling stream: it must be nowhere on earth, but only in heaven. A Daoist from the south drinks a dou, then lies drunk at the mouth of a cave deep among the white clouds.” Zhang Xubai, too, was a keen drinker.

Emperor Huizong of Song knew of his profound Daoist attainment and often summoned him. At each meeting, Huizong had him drink several cups. Even when drunk, Zhang Xubai became all the more respectful. Huizong was very fond of him and appointed him to oversee Longde Taiyi Palace. Four halls were expanded and decorated there, named Hongdao, Zhenxue, Huibin, and Yinzhen. Several hermitages were also newly built, including Chaoran, Zhidao, and Yunji, along with more than ten small pavilions. The emperor personally inscribed plaques for all these buildings. The plaques were hung horizontally, mounted on silk, and edged with antique brocade. Their secluded elegance and splendor made them the finest among all the palaces and temples.

Zhang Xubai enjoyed imperial favor for a long time, yet never showed the slightest complacency or self-importance. The court’s gifts to him never ceased. One day, the emperor sent six palace couriers to carry him three vermilion boxes. When he opened them, they were filled with gold dust. As he bowed to accept the gift, his face showed no pleasure. “These are the court’s belongings,” he said. “They are not for a Daoist priest to use; I can only store them away.”

In the final years of the Xuanhe era, a violent summer thunderstorm broke out. Three dragons rose into the air from the corners of Xuanhe Hall and flew away. Alarmed, Huizong summoned Zhang Xubai and asked, “Could this be an omen of disaster?” Zhang Xubai replied, “May Your Majesty cultivate De to dispel calamity.”

In his youth, Zhang Xubai had studied medicine. Most of the patients who came to him recovered quickly. After Huizong abdicated, Emperor Qinzong summoned Zhang Xubai and treated him with even greater honor. Qinzong gave him all the scriptures printed for the emperor, as well as the Fulu and medicines kept in the Three Pavilions. Ox carts carried them over several days, yet still could not transport everything.

When the Jurchen forces invaded the capital, they heard of Zhang Xubai’s reputation and hurried to search for him. When they first found him, they carried him in a sedan chair to Nanxun Gate. Soldiers from the various tribes vied to carry the chair and served him as if he were an immortal. After the city fell, he came into Jurchen hands.

Four years later, the Jurchen returned to the capital. At the time, mounted raiders from the direction of Yangzhou entered the city, and the Daoist priests of Tianqing Temple scattered in every direction. The Jurchen stopped…

He warned everyone, saying, “There are many extraordinary people among you. Do not harm them.” Then he asked, “Do you know Master Zhang Xubai? He came to my domain yesterday. One day, he suddenly told the leaders: ‘On a certain date in a certain month and year, I will leave this world. Follow worldly custom and use the Buddhist practice of cremation.’ Daoists avoid cremation. Fortunately, they later placed him in a coffin and buried him deep in the earth. When the appointed day came, Zhang Xubai indeed died.

Through a turn of fate, Zhang Xubai rose to the rank of Grand Master of the Great Void and Attendant of the Chonghe Hall. An Attendant was a Daoist official at court. Daoist adepts who entered and left the imperial palace used jade tablets as their credentials. There were nine Attendants: Lin Linghu, Wang Yuncheng, Xu Zhichang, Dong Nanyun, Li Derou, Wang Chongdao, Shao Ruoyu, and Wang Wenqing, among others. Only three held the title of Adept of the Golden Gate: Lin Linghu, Wang Yuncheng, and Zhang Xubai.

Zhang Xubai lived at Longde Taiyi Palace for ten years and never left unless summoned by the emperor. When visitors came to see him, he received them courteously in the main hall. He never went to the homes of the powerful. While serving the emperor, he spoke all day about the Dao and never discussed state affairs. When people asked him about them, he said, “The chancellor handles affairs of the court. They are not for us officials to concern ourselves with.”

Liu Biangong

Master Liu Biangong was from Binzhou and had loved Daoist arts since childhood. Once, while he was at home, an old man passed by his gate and said that he was skilled at mending iron. Master Liu asked, “My cooking pot is cracked. Can you mend it?” The old man replied, “I can mend wounds on the human body, so what is a cooking pot?” Master Liu knew he was no ordinary person and immediately bowed to him again. The old man then gave him an elixir to take. From then on, Master Liu gave up worldly affairs completely and dug himself a cave to live in. Anyone who wished to see him had to enter through the opening. At that time, however, no one had yet truly found favor with him.

Emperor Huizong of Song sent messengers to summon him three times, but he remained lying down and did not answer the summons. Huizong respected him all the more and bestowed on him the title “Master of Sublime Nobility.” Master Liu knew all kinds of classics, but had never studied them with painstaking effort. In conversation, he always returned to principles that were balanced, harmonious, and true to the root. His meaning was, in essence: preserve stillness and Wuwei (non-action), and do not let external things disturb the heart. Then the spirit will remain whole, and the mind will stay settled. In this way, the venom of bees and scorpions cannot harm you, and neither heat nor cold can trouble you.

Yet people damage their bodies with cravings, harm their descendants with wealth, injure others through political affairs, and shape the world and future generations with all kinds of doctrines. As a result, they forget the root of life and remain unaware of it to the very end. How could this compare with following the movements of Heaven and Earth and flowing along with all things? Would that not bring a feeling of ease and delight in the heart?

In the early years of the Jingkang era, the Master left his hometown and traveled through Sichuan. He sailed through the Jiangsu-Zhejiang region and also visited Mount Heng and the Xiang River area. It seems he had already resolved to guide people and form good connections widely.

In Sichuan, the Master met two Daoist priests, one surnamed Xie and the other Chai, and from then on often traveled with them. Later, when he reached the Wu region, he met Li Jici Zhong, a native of Tonglu, and taught him books on esoteric arts. Jici Zhong practiced diligently and attained the Dao. The Master once told this to Master Zhongli and asked him to help bring Jici Zhong to realization. Master Zhongli said, “The nostrils open through; three swords enter the brain; the nine elixirs are refined.” These are terms from Daoist internal alchemy describing a stage in which breath, essence, and vital energy circulate during cultivation.

Jici Zhong’s wife had been blind in both eyes. When the Master passed by the Li household, he wetted his hand with saliva and rubbed her eyes; her sight was restored. The Master once arranged to meet Jici Zhong at the Crane Gathering on Mount Mao the following spring. Jici Zhong went as agreed and saw hundreds of cranes fly in and gather on the mountain, but the Master was nowhere to be seen. He saw only Xie and Chai. When he pressed them for an answer, they pointed to a person among the crowd who had an exceptionally refined and lofty presence and said, “That is the Master.” Jici Zhong asked, “Why does he look different from before?” The Daoist priests replied, “The Master has changed his bones.” They then took out a shinbone and showed it to Jici Zhong, who kept it to this day.

There was a place in the mountains called Huayang Cave. Inside, the rocks curved and layered like a screen, and beneath them lay a pool whose depths could not be measured. The Master therefore led Jici Zhong into the cave and said, “I am setting out from here to follow the Perfected Huang to Mount Luofu.” After that, he never came out again. Some also say that the Master is now on Mount Qingcheng in Sichuan, though no one can see him.

Liu Yuandao

Liu Yuandao, courtesy name Jingchu, was from Kaifeng Prefecture. His family had served in the military for generations, but Yuandao alone admired the Zhuangzi and Laozi. As a child, he entered the Daoist order under the priest Li Juyan and became a Daoist priest. He was plain and sincere in temperament, quiet and broad-minded; even when people offended him, he did not hold it against them.

Yuandao enjoyed reading. In addition to the Daoist Canon, he could recite by heart the Confucian Nine Classics, as well as the writings of the various masters and historical works. Whenever he spoke with guests and friends, he seemed to lack eloquence; but if anyone asked him about something, he answered with great speed.

In the early years of Emperor Huizong’s reign in the Song dynasty, the court promoted Daoism and issued an edict to search throughout the country for lost Daoist writings. Daoist priests from the Bureau of Calligraphy and Arts were ordered to collate and organize them. Yuandao was the first to be selected. He was subsequently promoted, step by step, to Assistant Director of the Daoist Register Office, and later served successively as Daoist Register of the Left and Right Streets. He held nearly every Daoist office, eventually reaching the ranks of Grand Master of the Great Void and Collator of the Registers in the Hall of the Jeweled Pearl.

In addition to collating and checking records, he never altered anything on his own initiative, so most scholar-officials liked him. Whenever he attended a Daoist rite at court or was summoned to discuss Daoism in an inner palace hall, the court rewarded him generously. Yet whenever Yuandao received a reward, he immediately gave it away to others. One day, because Lin Lingru…

Several junior Daoist officials stood beside the emperor. He brought out precious objects and valuables and let each of them take whatever they liked. Yuan Dao took only one item: a bronze incense box for storing fragrant materials. After the Jin forces entered the capital, many Daoists had greedily taken gold and silver. The government also uncovered the rewards they had received in the past, and some were sentenced and imprisoned as a result. Yuan Dao, however, truly owned very little, so the authorities did not pursue the matter with him.

Yuan Dao was gentle and refined, and disliked Buddhism. After the Jin forces rebelled against the court, someone who had become absorbed in Buddhism asked him, “The emperor had such deep faith in Daoism and should have received the blessings he enjoyed before. Why has he fallen into this state?” Yuan Dao replied, “Emperor Wu of Liang once gave himself to a monastery and served as a monk’s slave. He also had weapons melted down to make Buddhist ritual implements, yet in the end he could not escape the pressure brought upon him by Hou Jing. Was that too because he believed in Buddhism?” The man repeatedly agreed, then left. Yuan Dao later lived in seclusion among ordinary people, and was seen from time to time.

Dong Nanyun

Dong Nanyun, an official in the Daoist Registry, courtesy name Xuanming, had a pure and lofty Daoist practice. His disciples had always held him in high regard. The year before the Jin forces entered the capital, he suddenly said, “I dreamed that an immortal child came to summon me with a yellow document, appointing me master of Flame Peak.” The next day, without having been ill, he “ascended” — the Daoist term for the death of someone who has attained the Dao. He was over seventy, yet his face looked like that of a man in his forties or fifties.

Wang Bingwen

The Daoist Wang Bingwen, courtesy name Yanheng, belonged to the Palace of Great Peace and National Prosperity on Mount Lu. After making progress in his cultivation, he traveled to the capital. The court was then building the Palace of Divine Empyrean Longevity. Wang was granted a purple robe and appointed as its guest officer, responsible for receiving visitors.

One day, a magus came to visit. Seeing a copy of the Zhouyi on the table, he laid out yarrow stalks for a divination and said, “War and disaster are about to strike here. You are not destined to be caught up in them; you should leave.” He then taught Wang the essentials of “preserving the Three and guarding the One,” along with the secret medical arts of the Yellow Emperor and Bian Que, and took his leave. Wang thereupon resigned and returned to the mountains.

In the fourth year of the Jianyan era under Emperor Gaozong of Song, the Palace of Great Peace and National Prosperity was burned down by rebel troops. The following year, after the unrest had been quelled, Wang felt that someone ought to take responsibility for rebuilding it. He accepted the post of deputy and worked tirelessly for several years amid the palace ruins, restoring its buildings and statues to their former splendor. He then gave up his duties at the palace, shut himself away, and lived in leisure for more than thirty years. He named his residence the Hall of the Three and One and called himself Master of the Three and One.

Every day he read the Daoist Canon, studying its secrets, and devoted himself as well to medicine. He had no other interests. In the second year of the Qiandao era under Emperor Xiaozong of Song, on the night of the Shangyuan Festival, he dreamed that a divine being told him, “The Supreme Emperor has commanded you to preside over the Great Purity Grotto of Mount Hua. He grants you a Reversion-Soul Elixir, which will restore your spirit and return your original Qi. You should use the spirit…”

The officials of the various offices in this prefecture escorted him into the grotto. After he had finished speaking, he came to his senses. The next morning, he told his disciples, “The world of dust is not worth clinging to. I am about to depart.” He then took out fourteen volumes of his own Collected Accounts of Sacred Governance and Manifest Efficacy, one work titled Explanations of the Divination Sticks of the Perfected Lord of Xishan, one work titled Ten Complete Pulse Secrets, and one volume titled Secrets of the Purple Court for Paying Homage to the Dipper. He entrusted them to his disciples’ disciples, Qin Zhixiang and the others. At dawn on the first day of the second month, he bathed, changed his clothes, and passed away peacefully. Kang Fuwen, prefect of the region, wrote a eulogy in his memory. This account is preserved at Taiping Xingguo Palace.

Liu Lie

The Daoist Liu Lie, style name Master Empty Valley, was born after his mother had dreamed of an auspicious apparition. As he grew up, he showed exceptional talent and studied at Taiping Xingguo Palace on Mount Lu. He kept company with only a select few. When princes, dukes, and high ministers saw him, they marveled at his ancient, unadorned bearing and said he was sure to become an outstanding practitioner of the Dao.

In 1136, during the sixth year of the Shaoxing era under Emperor Gaozong of the Song, Liu Lie built a thatched hut and named it “True Unity.” Each day he sat upright, reading scriptures and histories from the Daoist Canon, and jotted down notes as he read. Scholars and officials were all eager to befriend him. Zhu Wen gong of Huian, for example, once discussed the Classic of Changes and the essentials of returning the Elixir (Neidan, internal alchemy) with him. Before leaving, Zhu composed a poem whose meaning was: “I have carefully read the hundred chapters of Returning the Elixir; the remarks you have written down along the way are also deeply enlightening. Do not seek the ultimate principle only in the scriptures—the true mystery lies right before your eyes. If two horses could truly draw my carriage, the Five Sprouts, a term from Daoist Neidan, would naturally grow in my own garden. After I ride a crane up the mountain tomorrow, with whom will I be able to discuss these words?”

When Zhang Yuhu Xiaoxiang first met Liu Lie, he also presented him with a poem: “A blessed land holds a small grotto-heaven; within its secluded depths, immortals cultivate. Only Master Empty Valley understands its subtle delights. The timing of the alchemical fire and the mysteries of the Cantong qi both follow the natural course.”

Other celebrated figures, including Luo Koumi Dian, Vice Councilor Wang Yan, Cao Xun of the Two Offices, Fengxi Yi, and Yue Fu of the Ministry of Personnel, also visited him. They discussed the Classic of Changes and exchanged poems.

In 1163, the first year of the Longxing era under Emperor Xiaozong of the Song, Liu Lie annotated the Correct Scripture of the Zhou Changes and compiled a work titled Comprehensive Essentials of the Six Ren. He presented them at court. The emperor summoned him, asked him about the Dao, and hosted a banquet in his honor. Liu Lie then lived in the mountains for ten years.

In June 1173, the ninth year of the Qiandao era under Emperor Xiaozong of the Song, Liu Lie went more than forty days without food, drinking only cold water. On the fourteenth day of the seventh month, he sent the twenty-five volumes of Hidden Instructions for Ascending to Perfection, written in his own hand, and the nine volumes of the Upper Scripture to the palace, where they were placed in the library. The next day was the Zhongyuan Festival. He left a poem in his own hand, which said: “Master Empty Valley is now about to leave his bodily form and depart from the world of dust, sweeping away every trace of worldly life…”

He often traveled to places where mist and rosy clouds filled the air and the landscape stretched without end, becoming one with the Dao. On the night of the sixteenth day, he climbed on foot to the summit of Qingniu Cave on Mount Lu. He sat upright and passed away. He left behind works that circulated among later generations, including One Hundred Chapters on Returning the Elixir, miscellaneous writings and poems, An Explanation of the Meaning of the Zhou Changes, and An Illustrated Summary of Rulers and Ministers Through the Dynasties.

Lan Qiao

Lan Qiao, whose courtesy name was Zisheng, was from Longchuan in Xunzhou. His mother, Madam Chen, had been unable to have children and once went to Mount Luofu to pray. She later conceived. When she was about to give birth, she dreamed that a crane had landed in their home. That night Lan Qiao was born, and a strange light appeared in the house.

By the age of twelve, Lan Qiao could already write poetry. A physiognomist told Madam Chen, “Your son has extraordinary bones and features. If he enters government service, he can rise to the rank of minister or general; if he studies the Dao, he is sure to become an immortal.” Lan Qiao said, “The rank of minister or general is not worth pursuing. My wish is to attain the Dao and ascend to the heavens.” From then on, he sought out Daoist books to read. Troubled by studying alone without companions, he said farewell to his mother and went to the Jiang-Huai region, then on to the capital. Seven years later, he returned home and told her, “My aim has always been to roam freely among rivers and lakes. I have come back this time only because I was thinking of you, Mother.” He took a pill from a gourd and gave it to her, saying, “Take this, and you will live longer and remain free of illness.”

Lan Qiao stayed for a little over a year, then prepared to travel again. He gave his mother several pounds of gold, saying that it had been “refined through the blowing of true Qi.” He asked her to keep it safe and use it, and said he was afraid he would not return.

Wu Ziye, a native of Chaozhou, met Lan Qiao in the capital. It was midsummer, and the two went up onto Bian Bridge to buy melons. Lan Qiao said, “The dust will dirty my melon. I’ll go into the water to eat it.” With that, he jumped into the river. Wu Ziye watched the surface, and from time to time saw melon rinds rise to the top, with clear bite marks on them. Night came, and Lan Qiao still had not come ashore. Wu Ziye went to his lodgings to check on him, only to find him fast asleep, snoring like thunder. Lan Qiao slowly opened his eyes and said, “I waited a long time in the water for you to come eat melon with me. Why didn’t you come?” Only then did Wu Ziye realize that Lan Qiao had attained the Dao. He hurriedly bowed and apologized. From then on, he followed Lan Qiao and took charge of tending the fire and preparing meals.

Later, Lan Qiao traveled through Luoyang, wearing coarse cloth patched all over. Whenever he went into a tavern, he could drink several dou of wine. He also once stood on a hundred sheets of paper and had people pull them out one by one from beneath his feet, without tearing a single sheet. This showed how light as a feather his body had become.

He told people, “I am an immortal from Mount Luofu, and now I am about to ascend to heaven.” One day, while selling medicine in the outskirts, he again stood on paper and let the onlookers pull the sheets out one by one. When the paper was gone, his feet still hovered in the air. Then he lightly stepped upon the wind and clouds and rose into the sky. Flocks of cranes flew in from the south. The crowd looked up into the distance and could make out his figure faintly; they also heard the sound of reed pipes and flutes coming from the sky. He continued to chant aloud a line from Li Taibai’s poem: “Looking down, I see no trace of the Master…” The original text breaks off here.

He raised his head and thought of his mother, overcome with grief. His mother had lived to the age of ninety-seven. After her death, he buried her.

Later, woodcutters and shepherds often heard weeping near the grave. Those who knew the story said it was the sound he made as he came and went.

Zheng Zong of Yingzhou wrote a biography about the matter.

Shen Donglao

To the east of Wuxing lived a man named Shen Donglao, who was skilled at brewing “Eight Immortals White Wine,” a kind of liquor. One day, a man who called himself the Daoist Huidao (“Returning Daoist”) came to his door, clasped his hands in greeting, and said, “I hear your white wine has just finished brewing. I have come a long way to visit you, hoping to enjoy a good drunken spell.” It was the nineteenth day of the eighth month in the first year of the Xining era under Emperor Shenzong of Song.

Seeing the man’s striking bearing and appearance, Shen Donglao hurried to rise and welcome him. He looked closely and saw that the visitor’s eyes were bright and blue-green. When they spoke, his voice was clear and resonant. He was versed in everything, from the rise and fall of order and disorder in ancient and modern times to the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi and the principles of Buddhism. Shen Donglao therefore realized that he was no ordinary man of the mortal world.

Shen Donglao brought out more than ten kinds of drinking vessels and set them on the table. “I hear that you are a great drinker, Daoist,” he said. “How about I begin by offering you wine in the largest vessel?” The Daoist replied, “Among drinking vessels, the bell and the cauldron are the largest, followed by the large cup and the spiral cup; the pear-blossom cup and the plantain-leaf cup are the smallest. Ask your attendants to pour the wine in that order, and I will show you how to drink, starting with the smallest vessels and moving up to the largest.” He laughed and added, “It is like Gu Kaizhi eating sugarcane: each bite becomes more delicious.” Then they agreed to take turns, changing vessels as they went, and each time a full vessel was set before them. He smiled. “This is what they mean by wine that never runs out in the cup.” Whenever a vessel was placed before him, he drained it in one gulp, and the two men urged each other to drink.

The Daoist next asked Shen Donglao to play the zither and sang aloud to accompany him. They also played Go for amusement. After they had played for a while, the Daoist swept the pieces away and laughed: “I fear that by the time the game is over, the handle of the axe will have rotted.” This alludes to the immortal Wang Zhi, who watched a game of Go and returned to find that his axe handle had decayed, suggesting that a very long time had passed.

From midday until dusk, the Daoist drank several dou of wine, yet showed no sign of intoxication. That night the moon was dim, the autumn heat had not yet faded, and there were many mosquitoes. An attendant lit a candle to drive them away, but it happened to go out. The Daoist had someone bring him a bamboo twig. He dipped it in the leftover wine, sprayed the twig, then stuck it into a distant wall. After a while, all the mosquitoes had flown to the wall. The drinking area became perfectly cool and clear, without a single mosquito.

Shen Donglao wanted to ask how he had driven the mosquitoes away. The Daoist said, “That is only a minor trick. What is there to say about it? I hear that you yourself know how to refine yellow and white”—a Daoist alchemical art for turning minerals into gold and silver—“yet you never use it carelessly. You are also filial and righteous, and have accumulated much hidden virtue. These are the reasons I came to visit; I intend to help you make your qualities known.” Shen Donglao then asked him about the arts of long life and immortality, and of lightening the body to ascend through flight.

The Daoist said, “A human body, formed temporarily from the four elements of earth, water, fire, and wind, cannot suddenly transcend the body without first leaving it behind. The foremost matter is whether, at death, one knows where one is going to settle. If one knows this, the spirit will arise anew there.” Dong Lao—the name of the elderly man who practiced the Dao—straightened his robes, rose, and thanked him, feeling that he had received a guiding insight.

The Daoist said, “This is the highest state spoken of throughout the ages. Five years from now, we will meet again on this very day. By then, you will be about to pass away. But your most beloved son, Zixie, will not be there when you give your final instructions. When that moment comes, you will know in advance. Be sure not to let your thoughts cling to him, lest you lose your true nature.” Dong Lao nodded in understanding.

They drank together until dawn was near. The wine in the earthen jar was reduced to dregs, with not a drop left. The Daoist said, “I have not stayed long in central Zhejiang for a long time. I came for you today, and should leave you a poem.” He broke open the pomegranate skin on the mat and used it to write on the hermitage wall. The characters were pale yellow at first, then gradually turned black. The poem read:

Your neighbor to the west is already wealthy, yet still fears he has too little.

Dong Lao, though poor, takes joy in having more than enough.

The white wine is brewed because he loves to welcome guests;

The gold is spent because he treasures books.

After finishing, the Daoist took his leave. Dong Lao opened the door to see him off as the sky gradually brightened. They clasped hands and walked together, laughing as they agreed to meet again. When they reached the stone bridge west of the dwelling, now called Huixian Bridge, the Daoist crossed first, then rode off on the wind and vanished.

On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival four years later, Dong Lao felt slightly unwell and told his clansmen, “The Daoist Hui once told me on the nineteenth day of this month, ‘Five years from now, when we meet again, you will be about to pass away.’ I think he must have meant next year, but this is already the fifth year of the Xining era. Zixie also happens to be in the capital on official business. Could the Daoist’s words be coming true today?” When the time came, Dong Lao indeed died, and everything the Daoist had said came to pass. (Today, there is a Huixian Temple in Huzhou, where traces of the immortal’s visit are still preserved.)

Story Four

When Cai Yuanchang—that is, Cai Jing, whose courtesy name was Yuanchang—had just passed the jinshi examination, he served as a county captain in Qiantang. Once, while patrolling for bandits, he reached Tang Village. At dusk, as he rested at his lodging, a tall, imposing Daoist asked to see him. Cai Yuanchang was fond of associating with practitioners of esoteric arts, so he immediately invited the man in to talk and offered him wine. The Daoist then left.

The next day, Cai Yuanchang was staying elsewhere and encountered the Daoist again. A day later, when he lodged at Xincun, the Daoist came once more. The two drank nearly a dou of wine. The Daoist earnestly said, “I cannot get back tonight. Could I stay here for the night?” At first, Cai Yuanchang refused his request.

After repeatedly declining, Cai Jucai had no choice but to agree. He shared a bed with the Daoist, who told him to sleep on the outer side while he slept on the inner side.

The Daoist warned him, “If anyone comes looking for me in the middle of the night, tell them you don’t know where I am.”

Cai Ju thought the Daoist was probably a fugitive thief or criminal wanted by the authorities. As a county commandant, responsible for local security, it was hardly proper for him to hide a wanted man. But things had come to this, and there was nothing else he could do. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep, and was still awake at the third watch of the night.

He heard voices outside. After a while, more and more people seemed to gather there. They pushed open the door and said, “Che Siyuan is right here. How can we let him get away with this? We should get on the bed and seize him.” Someone said, “We might even break the bed. The people outside will surely be furious, and we’ll be afraid of being punished.”

Terrified, Cai Ju sat up and called for his attendants, but none of them answered. The Daoist was still sleeping peacefully. Cai Ju shook him, but he did not move. From outside, someone said, “That fellow has evaded us for another sixty years. How strange, how strange!” The group sighed for a long while. Then Cai Ju heard a sound from inside the room, as if bamboo paper were being torn over and over, thousands upon thousands of times. The sound continued until the cock crowed.

Only then did the attendants respond. Cai Ju asked whether they had seen anything, but they all said they knew nothing. The Daoist suddenly sat up and thanked Cai Ju. “I am Che Siyuan. Thanks to you, I escaped this great calamity and can live for another sixty years. This is the third time. From now on, I will have no more troubles. One day, you will hold a very high office in the human world. You helped me escape danger; otherwise, we would both have died.”

The Daoist added, “I have nothing with which to repay you. I have a medicine that can turn copper and iron into gold and silver. Would you like it?” Cai Ju declined, but the Daoist insisted on giving him a set of instructions for “refining mercury,” an alchemical method for transforming metals. “Keep this for a time of urgent need,” he said. Near dawn, the Daoist took his leave and never appeared again.

Cai Ju told the story to his second son, Cai Xiao. After Cai Ju died, Cai Xiao and his family fled to Guangxi and used the instructions to get through their difficulties. Chen Bing, a guest of Cai Ju who had once served as governor of Xiang Commandery, also knew the story in detail.

Zhang Cha

Zhang Cha, whose courtesy name was Yinzhi, was from Chengdu. From childhood, he was exceptional, with outstanding natural gifts. In his spare time while preparing for the civil service examinations, he studied the Classic of Changes deeply and wrote a commentary on the Taixuan Jing. When he reached the ninth scroll of his commentary, he fell asleep during the day and dreamed that Yang Ziyun—the author of the Taixuan Jing, also known as Yang Xiong—said to him, “The Taixuan is like a Buddhist pagoda with thirteen stories. You have commented up to the ninth. Is it so easy to reveal the secrets of Heaven?”

When Zhang Cha awoke, he thought the dream very strange. Later, he added a brief commentary, completed the tenth scroll, and presented it to the court. Emperor Shenzong of Song greatly admired his work and offered him a noble title, but he declined. The emperor then bestowed on him the title “Recluse of Detachment and Withdrawal.”

He was on friendly terms with Shao Yong, whose courtesy name was Kangjie. Once, while traveling across the Golden Goose Bridge in Guanghan, he saw a twelve-year-old boy selling poems. Delighted with him, Zhang Cha brought him home and gave him the new name Jingtong.

Zhang Cha often read the Huangting Jing, a Daoist classic on health and cultivation. Each time he finished reading, Jingtong would secretly watch him…

One day, a boy dressed in blue brought a book to see Cha. Cha took the book, and the boy vanished.

Cha looked at the cover. It read, “A Letter from Zhenyizi, a Commoner of Mount Heng, to the Reclusive Scholar Chongtui of Xizhou.” Inside was a single poem, whose general meaning was:

“I have not yet fulfilled my wish to withdraw into the mountains. I often hear the sounds and laughter of the human world. Amid the jokes and laughter, the true principle is lost, and worldly dust sullies the spirit. I will return south, plant lingzhi on the North Sea, and transmute gold. If I cultivate diligently for a thousand days, a realm of immortals will naturally come into being.”

Once, while visiting Xixi, Cha happened to be washing his feet when an extraordinary man named Li Shining came to see him. Cha remarked casually, “I’m washing my feet in Xixi, and the stream is flowing away.” Li Shining immediately replied, “I’m holding a poem sent from Mount Heng.” Surprised, Cha laughed and asked, “How did you know?” Li Shining said, “I knew long ago.” Then he took his leave, saying that he would go to Mount Heng first and urging Cha to follow soon. After that, Li Shining was never seen again.

Some time later, the boy came to say goodbye. Cha asked where he was going. “I’ll go to Mount Heng first and wait for you there,” the boy said. Cha asked how he knew. The boy replied, “I knew long ago.” Then he sat down and died. More than a month later, Cha bade farewell to his acquaintances and then achieved shijie—an escape from the body, in which a practitioner is said to abandon the physical form and become an immortal. It is said that Cha had once refined elixirs and later took one, after which his body dissolved like a cicada shedding its shell. People still sometimes say they have seen him on Mount Heng.

Duan Gu wrote a poem in mourning for Cha, whose general meaning was: “He departed through shijie, beyond all search, leaving only the golden tripod for refining elixirs. He lived in seclusion in Xizhou, and his figure vanished; the Shaowei star of the North Pole, too, has sunk.” Zhang Xianliang also wrote a poem: “The Western Sea has been famed since ancient times. I hear that he cast off his mortal body like a cicada and transcended the span of life. On Mount Qingcheng, he had already formed immortal companions; in the azure heavens, a reclusive scholar’s star suddenly sank. The golden tripod yielded the true elixir of mercury, and the Jade Hall transmitted the Scripture of Great Mystery. We were close friends throughout our lives, and I am ashamed that I lack the talent to compose an inscription for him.”

Immortal Elder Xing

In the fourth year of the Xining reign period of Emperor Shenzong of the Song dynasty (1071), an officer named Li was assigned to suppress salt smuggling in Hengzhou. He went deep into the Jiuyi Mountains, where the path became so steep that he could ride no farther. He left his horse at a villager’s home. Looking up, he saw a plume of blue smoke rising straight into the sky from a ridge ahead. It held together without dispersing. He pointed it out and asked the villagers about it. They said they could see it too, but did not know where it came from.

Li fixed the location in his mind and later told a degree candidate named Li Yangao. Li Yangao had long been unsuccessful in the civil service examinations and enjoyed investigating unusual things. He left the examination track and turned instead to the teachings of Huang-Lao and the arts of longevity. Intrigued by what he heard, he packed provisions and set out with Li. They climbed and scrambled up the mountain, then suddenly came upon a level stretch of ground and several thatched huts. Inside, they saw an old man sitting quietly. The old man said in surprise, “How did you get here? This is no place ordinary people can reach.” Li Yangao replied, “We admire the arts of the Dao and have come especially to seek you.” The old man smiled, invited them to sit, and asked their names.

I was originally a man of the late Tang dynasty who came here to avoid the world. My surname is Xing; I do not wish people to know my given name.”

Yan Gao thought he must be Xing Heping. The old man said, “No.” He then said that he had heard the country was now called the Song dynasty, but did not know the emperor’s surname. Yan Gao showed him the date from the preface to The Emperor Xining’s Biography. The old man nodded in recognition. When Yan Gao pressed him about his origins, he refused to answer.

Yan Gao went back, prepared more provisions, and returned to visit the old man. The old man smiled and welcomed him, keeping him for five days. He taught him only the methods of breathing and refining Qi: cultivating the breath by regulating inhalation and exhalation. When they tired of talking, the old man picked up a zither and played in the main hall. Its sound was like thunder and surging waves, and its resonance lingered for a long time. From then on, whenever Yan Gao visited, the old man received him like an old friend, and they were no longer reserved with one another.

Yan Gao then asked the old man about inner cultivation. “This matter is highly secret,” the old man said. “It is not easy to tell you about it.” He added, “I am collating the books of Heaven, and there is a set period for this work. Do not interfere with it; do not come again. I will not remain here much longer either. I shall soon move elsewhere.”

Looking at the books, Yan Gao asked, “Do immortals still have to read these?” The old man replied, “How could an immortal not read books? These texts are compiled in the Jade Chambers, the palaces of the immortals, and registered in the Jade Registers, the celestial records. When I finish collating one, I return it and receive the next.”

Yan Gao lingered for a while, then at last took his leave. The old man brought out twelve poems and gave them to him. Two of them are recorded here:

Seated quietly within the pine gate, I say nothing;

Only I understand the feelings I have borne through all the ages.

At times I spread out three scrolls of seal script;

When I straighten my robe, the star-shaped pin in my hair is often disturbed.

The azure youth departs to gather herbs on Southern Mountain;

A mountain recluse comes seeking the scriptures of the Northern Emperor.

There is no need to peer through a window to glimpse the Way of Heaven;

Mountains fill the courtyard, and green stretches before my eyes.

Worldly fame and enterprise are not worth discussing;

One should enter the path of self-cultivation while still young.

All this is like a dream, like Zhuang Zhou dreaming he was a butterfly;

Besides, I am a descendant of the Column Keeper of a thousand years ago—that is, Laozi.

In the Scripture of the Yellow Court, distinguish the inner from the outer;

Do not let the Book of Changes disclose the secrets of Heaven, Earth, and Yin-Yang.

In time, mountains will rise and valleys and rivers will change;

I dwell on Penglai and Yingzhou, the fabled immortal isles, and endure unchanged.

The poems were written in ancient seal script, which Yan Gao could not read. He did not visit the old man again, and it took him eighteen years to decipher the characters. Yan Gao gained much from them and later attained the Dao. He now travels around the Xiang River and Mount Heng, though no one knows where he is. Wang Xingzhi wrote The Record of the Immortal Elder Xing for him.

Jia Shanxiang

The Daoist Jia Shanxiang was from Pengzhou and had the courtesy name Hongju. He was good at witty conversation, loved playing the zither, and enjoyed drinking. In daily life he moved freely among ordinary people and got along easily with them, while quietly probing the ways of cultivation. Su Dongpo once visited him and wrote to ask his advice:

“The human body is like a banana plant, and the heart like a lotus; all the joints are open, and every pore throughout the body is delicate and clear. In coming, one; in going, eighty-four thousand…” At the end he wrote: “Hongju, tell me what you think…”

Shanxiang replied, “This old Daoist has none of those elaborate arts.” During the reign of Emperor Zhezong of the Song, Shanxiang wrote Record of the Dragon’s Return and Biographies of Eminent Daoists, both of which circulated widely.

One day, at the Taiqing Palace in Bozhou, a Daoist temple, Shanxiang was invited to explain the Scripture of Salvation by the Most High, Cavern Mystery, and Numinous Treasure, a Daoist classic. When he reached the text’s second recitation, a blind person regained their sight. Among those present was a woman in her seventies who had been blind for thirty years. As soon as she heard the scripture’s meaning, her understanding suddenly opened, and her eyes grew clear and bright.

Later, on the night of a Zhaijiao purification ritual, the woman dreamed that many divine officers, protective deities in Daoism, conveyed the will of the Most High Lord Lao and bestowed immortal robes upon her. Shanxiang was appointed abbot of the Taiqing Palace. A few days later, he unexpectedly returned to the Real—he died. Zhang Shangying wrote Record of the True Journey, which recounts this event.

Zhou Shiqing

Zhou Shiqing was from Pucheng in Jianzhou. In the early years of the Yuanyou era under Emperor Zhezong of the Song, he traveled to the capital to take the provincial examination. Along the way, he met a Daoist. Later, Zhou Shiqing and his disciples went to Mount Youguo to refine elixirs, and he became widely renowned. Whenever scholar-officials passed below the mountain, they all went to visit him.

When Lü Jifu was transferred from Jian’an to Xuanzhou, he suffered from an ailment in his feet and could not walk, so he came to see Zhou Shiqing. Zhou asked him to stretch out his feet before him, then directed his Qi to treat them and had someone fan them. After a while, the affected part of Lü Jifu’s foot grew hot as if burning, and the heat pierced straight through to his chest. After a long time, the pain disappeared.

Zhou Shiqing lived on the mountain for twenty years, and the elixir was nearly complete. One night, wind and thunder raged, and bolts of lightning crashed down. At dawn, they inspected the elixir furnace and found the elixir had vanished. Zhou Shiqing had not expected this, so he sent his spirit out in search of it. He told his wife, “I will probably be away for seven days, and then I will return. I am not dead yet. Whatever you do, do not cremate my body.”

Zhou Shiqing was on friendly terms with a monk who lived and practiced in a hut elsewhere. When the monk heard that Zhou Shiqing had died, he came to offer condolences and urged Zhou’s wife: “Those who practice the Dao regard the body as no more than dung. Since he has already departed, what is there to regret about the body?” His wife believed him and, weeping, had Zhou Shiqing’s body cremated.

The next day, Zhou Shiqing returned, but there was no body for him to be reborn into. He shouted curses at his wife from the air, then departed. Later, the monk came again, and Zhou’s wife told him what had happened. The monk said, “I only just heard of the death, so I came to offer condolences. I have not been here at all in the past few days.” Only then did his wife understand that the monk who had appeared earlier was a demon in disguise.

Later, the Zhou family enshrined an image of Zhou Shiqing in the monks’ quarters. Each day, an attendant responsible for service or practice at the temple offered incense, and without fail found four coins on the ground. A jar of vinegar was also kept in the room, and it did not spoil even after a long time.

Liu Datou

Xu Yi, courtesy name Danzhai, was a secretariat official from the Qin region. During the Shaosheng era under Emperor Zhezong of the Song, he was traveling to take up a new post…

When Wen Yi was traveling to the capital and passing through Luoyang, the weather was bitterly cold. He saw a beggar lying by the roadside and felt deep pity for him. Taking three hundred coins from his travel bag, he gave them all to the beggar. At first, the beggar did not thank him. After Wen Yi had gone several dozen paces, the beggar caught up with his horse and called out, “Thanks to your kindness, sir, I was able to survive this ordeal. When you reach the capital, I hope you will visit Liu Datou’s home in Zhucè Lane.” Wen Yi agreed.

By the time he arrived in the capital, Wen Yi had forgotten all about it. One day, while visiting friends and relatives, he passed through a narrow lane and asked someone where he was. Only then did he learn it was Zhucè Lane. Remembering the beggar’s words, Wen Yi knocked on a door and called “Liu Datou” three times. Liu Datou came out to welcome him and said, “You truly keep your word, sir, to come visit a poor old man like me.” He invited Wen Yi inside to sit in a small pavilion, then called his wife out to thank him. “If I hadn’t met you the other day, I would have starved to death by now.”

Liu Datou immediately ordered wine to be served. On the platter were only a few large peaches. After three rounds of wine, Wen Yi rose to take his leave. Liu Datou said, “I am poor and have nothing to repay you with. I can only offer you these peaches.” Wen Yi tucked them into his sleeve and carried them back to his lodgings. By the time he reached home, his sleeve had grown so heavy he could barely lift it. When he took the peaches out, he saw they had all turned into solid gold.

When he went back to Liu Datou’s home, however, he found it empty.