《疑仙傳》

The Biographies of Suspected Immortals records two accounts of individuals believed to be celestial beings.

The first story takes place during Emperor Xuanzong's reign of the Tang dynasty. A man named Li Yuan often gathered medicinal herbs on Mount Hua for sustenance and was fond of wine, so local villagers frequently invited him to drink. One day, he suddenly rode off on a white deer to bid farewell to the crowd, announcing his departure for Mount Tiantai. Three elderly men blocked his path, urging him to stay and questioning his abrupt decision. Li Yuan replied that all gatherings must eventually end and that he was merely following the natural course of heaven. When asked what he would eat at Mount Tiantai, he answered, "On Mount Hua, I ate Hua's herbs; on Mount Tiantai, I shall eat Tiantai's herbs." Before leaving, he gave the three elders pills with instructions to consume them immediately. Two who took the medicine lived to 150 years old, while the third, who refused, passed away within months. This led people to suspect Li Yuan was an immortal.

The second story tells of an unnamed old medicine seller in Puzhou (modern-day Yongji, Shanxi), whose remedies were remarkably effective—those who failed to obtain them remained uncured. A wealthy physician named Wang Yu, wishing to learn from him, invited the old man to his home. Upon arrival, the medicine seller ignored the host and instead bowed to the servants. Unfazed, Wang Yu respectfully offered him wine. The old man laughed heartily, drank it down, and said, "Ask directly what you wish to know—there’s no need for formalities." This account highlights the medicine seller’s transcendent demeanor, unbound by conventional etiquette.

(Note: In Daoism, the "white deer" symbolizes an immortal’s mount, while the "pills" refer to alchemical elixirs believed to prolong life.)

A passerby asked an old medicine seller, "Elder, you never reveal your name—who exactly are you?" The old man replied, "I'm but an ordinary man born of Heaven and Earth. Since humans receive their vital energy (Qi) from Heaven and Earth to come into being, my surname is 'Human' and my given name is 'Human.' Why bother with other names?"

The passerby pressed further, "You cure all ailments with just one pouch of medicine—what kind of remedy is this?" The old man explained, "All human illnesses share the same root—how can there truly be a hundred different diseases? Humans exist through the movement of Qi. When Qi flows smoothly, the body remains healthy and free from illness; when Qi rebels, the body weakens and sickness arises. There's only one root cause of disease, yet people insist on inventing countless names for illnesses—this shows their lack of understanding. My medicine is likewise singular. Because I recognize the common origin of all ailments, one remedy suffices for all."

The passerby then asked, "Then why do some people fail to obtain your medicine?" The old man sighed, "For humans, living is hard while dying comes easily. Timely treatment can still save lives, but waiting until illness erupts makes recovery difficult. If one delays until the disease becomes severe before seeking help, how can they be saved? Those to whom I don't give medicine have all missed their window for treatment. Understand this: my medicine is merely mundane—it cannot grant immortality. Only those who comprehend the principles of life and death in their healing can truly accumulate merit (De). Since childhood, I've studied medicines deeply and know their nature: used correctly they save lives, but misused they become deadly."

The passerby noted how the old man had earlier bowed to his servant (a gray-haired man) while ignoring him. The elder explained, "That servant and I share the same nature—when meeting one's kind, it's natural to show respect." The passerby then offered his servant as the old man's disciple, to which the elder agreed, presenting a medical text as a gift. The servant joyfully departed with the old man, vanishing in the blink of an eye. After studying the text, the passerby's medical skills improved remarkably. Later, a Daoist priest borrowed the book—the moment he received it, both he and the text disappeared without trace.

An additional record tells of Zhang Yu: This native of Yan resided in Luoyang, where for nearly a decade he indulged in sensual pleasures with noble youths. One day while wandering alone by the Luo River, amid radiant scenery with fragrant blossoms and birdsong...

This passage recounts two stories imbued with Daoist immortal lore:

The first tale follows Yu, a carefree scholar. While reciting poetry lamenting life's brevity by the Luo River in spring, he suddenly noticed an ornate tent emitting celestial music. A mysterious woman emerged, and Yu couldn't resist approaching her. Though initially scolding his boldness, she eventually invited him inside for wine and conversation. At dusk, she sighed about mortal transience, hinting at her immortal nature, then sang two verses brimming with Daoist symbolism: "Colored clouds drift toward immortal palaces/White cranes circle without departing" and "Possessing longevity arts in vain/Yet not being deathless myself." Finally, she departed walking upon the river's shimmering surface, leaving Yu astonished at having encountered a water immortal.

The second story concerns the "Lute-Bearing Scholar" of Chang'an. This eccentric perpetually carried his instrument while begging for wine in taverns, remaining silent until playing heartbreakingly beautiful melodies by moonlit waters. When Li Bai heard of him, they drank together by a bamboo-lined stream. After one particularly moving performance that left even Li Bai melancholy, the scholar remarked: "Though mortal music pleases the ear...".

Both stories embody the Daoist concept of "life's fleeting dream," using mortal encounters with immortals to suggest transcendence. The imagery is rich with Daoist symbolism: "Yang Terrace" references the Goddess of Mount Wu legend, "Penglai and Yingzhou" denote immortal isles, while "Celestial Homeland" signifies divine abodes—all classic motifs in Daoist literature.

This passage records the stories of two extraordinary individuals. The first part recounts how Li Bai (courtesy name Taibai) encountered a hermit carrying an ancient qin. The hermit remarked that while his qin music was refined and pure, untrained ears would only find it discordant—just like Li Bai's ornate poetry that pleased nobles but failed to impress true sages. He bluntly told Li Bai that despite his literary talent, he lacked the "immortal bone" (xian gu), advising him not to be burdened by empty fame. After drinking together, the hermit mysteriously vanished the next day. Later, Li Bai saw him again under a large tree south of Chang'an, but when he approached, the man disappeared abruptly.

The second part tells of another eccentric named Ge Yong, who often wandered the Qishan and Longxi regions with a yellow dog. He drank wine but ate no food, enjoyed nighttime conversations with Buddhist monks and Daoist priests, and slept outdoors. A Daoist named Wang Feng admired him, and one day Ge Yong invited Wang to ride his yellow dog together. Remarkably, the dog could soar through the skies, carrying both men on an aerial journey. This story illustrates the Daoist concept of "riding a divine mount" (cheng qiao)—the ability to fly atop mystical creatures—while embodying the carefree, liberated lifestyle of Daoist practitioners.

This passage recounts two wondrous Daoist encounters with immortals, filled with marvelous fantasy elements.

The first story tells of Feng and Yong riding a divine hound that instantly traversed ten thousand miles to reach a breathtakingly beautiful immortal mountain. Upon entering a cave, they encountered three extraordinarily beautiful female immortals who invited them to ascend a jade tower, where they drank immortal wine together while playing the zither and panpipes. As dusk approached, Yong explained to Feng that these were celestial maidens who had chanced to gather on this mountain, and it was time to leave lest they disturb the immortals' revelry. Before parting, they agreed to meet again on the same day the following year. When they rode the divine hound back to the mortal realm, they discovered three years had already passed. Finally, Yong bid farewell to Feng, declaring his intention to travel east before vanishing without a trace.

The second story describes the daughter of wealthy merchant Peng Zhiwei from Sichuan, who had been devoted to the Dao since childhood. At sixteen, a youth suddenly arrived riding a white crane, offering to teach her Daoist cultivation. She secretly sheltered both the youth and crane, and at midnight performed purification rituals with incense to seek his guidance. The youth assured her that so long as her Daoist resolve remained steadfast, she would certainly attain the Dao. The daughter then raised the concern that proper Daoist study should begin with reading scriptures and receiving Fulu (talismans and registers - the Daoist initiation rites and texts), yet as a sheltered maiden, this presented difficulties.

Both stories vividly illustrate the fantastical nature of the Daoist immortal realm, featuring elements like instantaneous travel, temporal discrepancies, and immortal manifestations, while simultaneously reflecting the sincere devotional mindset of ancient seekers of transcendence. The Fulu mentioned in the narrative represents an important Daoist ritual instrument - equivalent to a certificate of initiation that requires specific ceremonies to obtain.

This passage records two stories about seeking the Dao and attaining immortality, vividly illustrating essential principles of Daoist cultivation.

The first story recounts a dialogue between a woman and an immortal youth. The youth explains that pursuing the Daoist path doesn't depend on external forms—whether reading scriptures or receiving Fulu (talismanic registers)—but on sincere, single-minded devotion. The Queen Mother of the West once judged Emperor Wu of Han as lacking the "bones for immortality" precisely because he lacked genuine commitment. When the woman worries worldly life might hinder her practice, the youth assures her that firm determination alone can move the immortals. Even ascetics who retreat to deep mountains and ingest elixirs (practicing dietary regimens) will fail if their resolve wavers. Ultimately, the woman grasps the truth, abandons worldly pleasures, and mysteriously disappears—implying her ascension to immortality.

The second story follows Liu Jian, a wealthy man obsessed with the Daoist path despite his riches. During his pilgrimage to sacred mountains, he meets a practitioner calling himself "Master of Emptiness" (Xuwuzi) at Mount Bagong (a renowned Daoist site). Guided eastward to a mystical mountain, Liu encounters the "Nameless Lord"—a genuine immortal dwelling in a stone chamber. After receiving teachings, Liu remains to cultivate in the mountains until his eventual mysterious disappearance, signaling his immortal attainment.

Both stories elucidate the core tenet of Daoist practice: immortality isn't achieved through external elixirs, asceticism, or rituals, but through innate "spiritual nature" (Shenxing) and "immortal bone structure" (Xiantian endowment), coupled with unwavering focus and transcendent conviction. Through classic narratives of mortals encountering immortals, these tales vividly demonstrate the Daoist belief that "sincerity manifests spiritual efficacy."

This story recounts the extraordinary journey of a man named Jian who followed a mysterious figure called Master Xuwuzi (a being suspected to be an immortal) on a pilgrimage to celestial mountains. Traveling eastward for several days, they arrived at a transcendent mountain realm utterly distinct from the mortal world. There stood an immense bridge towering into the clouds, its railings adorned with jade and gemstones. Beyond it lay a mountain-girt estate with a gate bearing the plaque "Residence of Xuwuzi."

Startled to see his companion's name inscribed, Jian received only a knowing smile from Xuwuzi as they entered. Within the compound stood pavilions and towers of unearthly craftsmanship, attended by azure-robed youths, with tables laden with celestial fruits and divine wines. Pointing to a plant by the water's edge, Xuwuzi revealed this herb's potency surpassed all mortal medicines. He instructed an attendant to gather it by boat and presented it to Jian with this teaching: "Seek not obsessively after immortals or the Dao. Simply plant these seeds by water, and by regularly consuming its tender sprouts, you shall attain longevity beyond aging."

At their parting, Xuwuzi instructed Jian to retrace their path home. Returning to his village, Jian followed these instructions faithfully and lived over a century without his hair whitening. Finally, he bid sudden farewell to his neighbors and vanished without trace. The tale subtly suggests Jian's possible ascension to immortality, embodying the Daoist cultivation principle of "nourishing longevity through celestial herbs" (fushi changsheng) — the belief that consuming transcendent plants can bestow everlasting life.

Dongfang Xuan was a native of Jingzhou who built a thatched cottage beneath the southern mountains to live in with his wife, Fan Shi. Both were devoted to Daoist cultivation. One day, a wandering Daoist (daoliu) passed through the mountains, and the couple invited him to their cottage as a guest. Dongfang Xuan served bamboo shavings as dried meat and clear water as wine, astonishing the Daoist. At this moment, Fan Shi scolded a bamboo staff, which instantly transformed into a giant bird. She mounted it and flew away, returning shortly with a chessboard (qiju), proposing to play a game with Dongfang Xuan.

The Daoist grew even more amazed and asked where the chessboard had come from. Fan Shi replied that she had fetched it from the home of a female companion by the South Sea. When the Daoist pressed further about who this companion was, Fan Shi explained that the woman also knew some magical arts and often visited to play with her, assuring the Daoist he would meet her soon. The Daoist then asked Dongfang Xuan about the origins of these abilities, to which Dongfang Xuan replied that they were all taught to him by his wife, though he did not know who had originally instructed Fan Shi.

As they spoke, the sound of silk and bamboo music filled the air. A woman of striking beauty descended from the sky and, smiling, asked Fan Shi, "Why have you invited another mortal here?" Fan Shi explained that it was only a wandering Daoist they had encountered in the mountains. The woman asked why they weren’t playing chess, and Dongfang Xuan deferred, suggesting she go first. The woman then drew a circle on the ground with her hand, conjuring a vast pond surrounded by pines and bamboos, its banks fragrant with water chestnuts and lotuses. A painted boat floated in the center, which she boarded. Fan Shi tossed her wooden sandals (ji) into the water, transforming them into another painted boat. The two women rowed and sang, their voices clear and ethereal, moving the Daoist to tears. He sighed, "I have sought the Dao for fifteen years, yet never knew such divine arts truly existed in this world!"

(Note: The term "daoliu" refers to itinerant Daoist priests, "qiju" means chessboard, and "ji" are wooden clogs. This passage illustrates the Tang Dynasty Daoist legend of "transforming objects into reality" (huawu weizhen), where adepts could imbue ordinary items with miraculous transformations.)

Dongfang Xuan (a Daoist immortal) and Lady Fan disembarked from their painted boat with displeased expressions, locking eyes for a long moment. Suddenly the woman scolded the pond—in an instant, the pond, pines, bamboos, water chestnuts, and even their painted vessel vanished at her command. Then each mounted a bamboo stalk and soared away. Dongfang Xuan smiled at a passing Daoist priest and said, "My master wishes to return, and you'd best not linger here either." The priest took his leave. When the same priest revisited the area the following year, villagers at the mountain's foot said Dongfang Xuan's entire household had relocated deep into the wilderness.

Another tale tells of Li Yang from Shu region, who maintained unwavering devotion to Daoist cultivation for over a decade. Once by the riverbank, he discovered a large turtle white as jade and, struck by its strangeness, took it in. Three years later, the turtle suddenly flew skyward, returning after seven days. Li Yang sighed before it: "The way of immortals is profoundly mysterious. Having heard of the Three Pure Ones' (Sanqing) celestial realms and the wonders of the Ten Isles, I long knew this dusty world held nothing to cherish. Yet after over ten years of sincere practice, no omens have appeared. I kept you only because your jade-like hue seemed extraordinary. Now that you can both ascend and return, surely you're an immortal's numinous creature. If you truly possess spiritual awareness, either come and go regularly, or depart forever." At these words, the turtle flew off again—and indeed returned after seven days.

Growing convinced this must be an immortal's transformation, Li Yang strolled along the river with the turtle on a leash. Suddenly an old man approached demanding: "That's my lost turtle! How came it to you?" After hearing Li Yang's account, the elder explained: "This turtle can ride the void without getting wet—mounted, one may roam ten thousand miles. Having nurtured it these years, why not try? Simply step on it to tour the Eight Extremes (all directions of heaven and earth)." With that, the old man vanished. Tentatively placing one foot on the turtle's back, Li Yang watched it grow ox-sized before carrying him into the river. The waters parted effortlessly, leaving his robes completely dry.

The Biographies of Doubtful Immortals records two extraordinary tales:

The first tells of a man named Yang from Shu who obtained a miraculous turtle. This creature could carry him ten thousand li in a day, sometimes diving into water, sometimes soaring through the skies. Initially terrified, Yang prayed to the turtle to take him home and instantly found himself back where he started. Later realizing the turtle's extraordinary nature, he rode it westward for several days until they reached an immortal mountain. There grew jade-like trees and pools of liquid jade, while celestial songs echoed from the summit. Not daring to linger, Yang prayed again and returned. Later seeking the immortal realm once more, he rode the turtle eastward and instantly arrived at a boundless river surrounding a towering mountain with cloud-piercing pavilions. Ultimately too fearful to enter, Yang returned to Shu. When questioned about the turtle, he only claimed to have found this longevity-bestowing creature by the riverbank. Eventually someone stole the divine turtle at night, and Yang wandered away, his whereabouts unknown.

The second story unfolds in Chang'an. A musician named Zheng Wen's family bore a daughter who could speak at birth. By age seven, she possessed dignified beauty and exceptional skill in playing the fangxiang (a percussion instrument), earning her the name "Fangxiang Girl." When Lady Yang Guifei sought to summon her to the palace, the girl declared: "How could I belong in the palace? Lady Yang and I were originally peers." That very night she vanished. Three years later she reappeared, revealing to her parents she was actually a fangxiang musician from the Shangqing Palace (a Daoist celestial realm), temporarily exiled to the mortal world for peeking at earthly affairs but unable to stay. When her parents argued for worldly pleasures, she countered: "The human realm brings only sorrow and trouble—where is the joy? In Shangqing Palace we're free from mundane concerns and worldly attachments. Beyond our immortal duties, we wander in perfect contentment." With these words, the girl departed, hinting at her return to the celestial realm.

Both stories embody the Daoist understanding of the boundary between immortality and mortality: the celestial realm offers carefree liberation without worldly troubles, while mortals often miss their chance at transcendence due to either fear or earthly attachments. The magical turtle and Fangxiang Girl both serve as special conduits connecting these two realms.

The Records of Suspected Immortals contains two remarkable stories:

The first recounts the tale of a woman who attained the Dao and became an immortal. She could ride phoenixes through the clouds, wandering the celestial realms—one moment sipping divine nectar, the next visiting the Penglai paradise or the Moon Palace, frolicking with legendary immortals like Chang'e and the Weaving Maiden. She considered worldly riches and honors mere sources of vexation, and the impermanence of human life far inferior to the carefree existence of the immortal realms. When her parents urged her to stay and fulfill filial duties, she replied that remaining would sever her path back to heaven. Mid-conversation, she vanished without trace, leaving her parents forever searching in vain.

The second story follows the Daoist priest Guan Ge, a native of Zhao territory who from youth yearned for the Dao. Roaming freely through the Zhao-Wei region, his temperament was blunt and unrestrained. Once encountering Zhang Guolao (one of the Eight Immortals), he addressed the celestial by name without ceremonial deference. Zhang Guolao transformed his staff into a blue ox and took Guan Ge to wander Mount Heng. At the summit, the immortal pointed out how the mortal world—particularly war-torn Zhao-Wei—was unfit for cultivation. But Guan Ge countered that true Daoist practice transcends geography, declaring the Zhao-Wei region no different from the highest Jade Pure Realm (Yuqing jing) or the oceanic paradises of Penglai and Yingzhou. This revealed his profound realization that "the human world itself is the Dao-field."

(Note: "Jade Pure" refers to the highest of the Three Pure Realms (Sanqing jing) in Daoist cosmology, while "Peng-Ying" combines the two legendary island paradises Penglai and Yingzhou.)

This recounts the story of two Daoist practitioners. The first immortal said: "If nobility is determined by imperial status and humility by commoner status—if honorifics are used when addressing my name just as they are for emperors—then one moment I might dwell in the Jade Pure Realm (the highest Daoist heaven, Yuqing), and by evening find myself in the lands of Zhao and Wei. Such worldly distinctions of status arise. Why should I wander far? One should distance oneself from these vulgar matters, shedding the dust of the mundane world like a cicada molting its shell. If one does not withdraw, they will surely perish among mortals, never to walk the same path as me." With that, he merely laughed and spoke no more. Later, someone asked why he traveled to Mount Heng—was it merely to perform the trick of transforming his staff into a blue ox? He replied: "All things are subject to transformation—what is so strange about that? In every era, there are those who cultivate immortality from mortal beginnings." Then he abruptly took his leave. Descending the mountain, he built a thatched hut and lived in seclusion, later disappearing without a trace. Some claimed to have seen him on Mount Ji.

The second was a youth who called himself a man of Lu, handsome in appearance and around fourteen or fifteen years old. Because he always wore a grass cloak, people called him "Grass-Cloak Boy." For years, he fished by the Si River, yet no one ever saw him catch anything. When asked, "Are fish edible?" he answered: "I do not eat fish—I merely fish." Asked his name, he said he had never known his father since childhood, much like the legendary figure Dongfang Shuo of the Han dynasty, and thus had no surname. Later, when people by the Si River began spying on him, Grass-Cloak Boy noticed and fled to the banks of the Han River to continue fishing. At first, the riverside folk took him for a fisherman, but when they realized he never caught anything and wore the same grass cloak year-round, unchanged through winter and summer, they found it deeply strange. Someone asked him: "What is your name? Why have you fished by this river for so many years, always in the same grass cloak, yet never catching anything?" Grass-Cloak Boy replied: "People call me Grass-Cloak Boy. I came to fish not for the sake of catching fish—and how do you know I’ve caught nothing? Since you already call me Grass-Cloak Boy, why do I need another name?" Eventually, the riverside people also began spying on him, and Grass-Cloak Boy, noticing once more, fled to the Wei River. There, the locals, struck by his handsome appearance yet puzzled by his grass cloak, first took him for a recluse. But when they saw he never caught fish, they too grew suspicious.

(Note: In the text, "Jade Pure" refers to the Jade Pure Sacred Realm, one of the Three Pure Realms (Sanqing) in Daoism. "Cicada molting" symbolizes a cultivator transcending the mundane world by shedding their mortal form like a cicada discarding its shell. The "blue ox" refers to Laozi’s mount when he departed westward through the Hangu Pass, often serving as an emblem of Daoist transcendence.)

What brought He Yin to the banks of the Wei River? Was he emulating Jiang Taigong (Lü Wang), fishing in hopes of meeting a wise ruler? The straw-cloaked youth replied: "Fishing is my innate delight—since childhood, angling has been my joy. Other rivers never satisfied me, so I came to the Wei. People see my straw cloak and call me 'Straw-Cloak Lad.' As for Jiang Taigong, he came here because King Zhou of Shang was beyond remonstration, waiting to assist King Wen of Zhou—not truly fishing. Today, the world already has its wise ruler; there's no second King Wen to await. Why should I imitate Jiang Taigong?"

The questioner pressed: "If not a ruler, what are you waiting for?" Straw-Cloak Lad answered: "I wait for a stone." The man laughed and asked no more. Days later, a white stone over ten feet long came drifting down the Wei. At the sight, the lad rejoiced wildly, telling those onshore: "I was never fishing—this stone is what I awaited! For years I've had no home; today, I've found my destiny." With that, he leapt onto the stone and vanished downstream, none knowing where he went.

Zhu Zizhen owned a villa south of Chang'an's Southern Mountains, his household wealthy. Pines and cypresses shaded his courtyards; flowers, bamboos, and bridges wove through streams, while towers pierced the clouds. Often wearing a hemp scarf and light silks, he'd wander alone with a bamboo staff, trailed by women in embroidered gowns. In high spirits, he'd drink alone, often toppling into solitary drunkenness—rarely seen by outsiders.

Chang'an's Zhao Ying, a free-spirited youth, sought him out after hearing tales. Knocking brought a maid who ushered him in. Zhu asked: "Who are you? Why come so far?" Zhao replied: "I'm one who loves song and wine, ever lamenting how heaven denies eternal blooms, fearing life's fleeting beauty. Beyond this, wealth and glory mean nothing." Delighted, Zhu invited him to a pavilion, saying: "Many share your wanderlust, but today we need no instruments—let’s summon a performer." Two maids brought carved phoenixes adorned with pearls and jade, lifelike as could be. Then a golden-crowned woman...

When the maiden in silken robes sang aloud, the phoenix began to dance gracefully, its ethereal movements surpassing even the swirling of snowflakes. After a while, as the golden-crowned maiden finished her song, the phoenix ceased its dance. Zizhen (the immortal’s name) then took up the song himself: "Human years pass swiftly; mulberry fields turn to vast seas—who has truly seen the abodes of immortals? Life’s brevity is but the natural order; better to seek joy in the present." Lü Ying (a mortal’s name), upon hearing this, sighed deeply. Zizhen then instructed his attendant to fetch an elixir from a jade flask and bestowed it upon Lü Ying, saying, "Take this pill, and you may yet live two hundred more years in the mortal world." Lü Ying bowed in gratitude and took his leave. Later, when the emperor’s procession was about to reach Mount Shu, Zizhen’s immortal dwelling suddenly vanished without a trace. Lü Ying consumed the elixir and indeed lived for over two centuries.

There was another man named Ding Shi, who often wandered in Luoyang, calling himself a recluse of Mount Song. His hair was snow-white, yet his face remained as fresh as peach blossoms. When asked, "You must be a hundred years old—when did you retreat to Mount Song?" he replied, "I was originally a scholar during the reign of Qin Shi Huang. When Li Si proposed burning books and burying scholars alive, I fled to Mount Song, where I met an old man who gave me a pill of immortality. After taking it, I’ve lived until now—though my hair turned white, my face never aged, and I’ve long lost count of the years. I even knew Dongfang Shuo from Emperor Wu of Han’s time; he was originally a mischievous immortal child, banished to the mortal world for his unruly nature. I once paid respects to the Queen Mother of the West, and when she told me this, I went to ask Dongfang Shuo himself—he just laughed and admitted it. Mortals like Liu Chen and Ruan Zhao, who stumbled into the Peach Blossom Spring, ultimately failed to shed their worldly attachments, so they never achieved immortality. Later, many seekers of the Dao ascended in broad daylight but never returned. Though I’ve gained longevity, I cannot ride the clouds—so I’ll never become a true immortal." Every spring, Ding Shi would visit Luoyang without fail, continuing this for decades. Before An Lushan’s rebellion, he told people, "It’s time for me to flee the chaos—after all, scholars and barbarians are not the same." With that, he departed, and people speculated he was actually an earthbound immortal (a terrestrial immortal who never ascended to the heavens).

The middle scroll of Records of Doubted Immortals documents various questions and legends concerning celestial beings. Daoist scriptures often include such mystically tinged narratives, using accounts of mortals encountering immortals or achieving perfection through cultivation to expound Daoist concepts of longevity and spiritual practice. These stories frequently blend fact and fiction, serving both religious didactic purposes while reflecting ancient imaginations of the immortal realm.

The tales typically feature ordinary people who, through extraordinary encounters or dedicated cultivation, transcend human limitations. Some receive secret teachings from wandering adepts, others accidentally stumble upon immortal gatherings in mountain grottos - all illustrating the Daoist belief that the sacred interpenetrates our mundane world. The narratives employ deliberate ambiguity, leaving readers to ponder whether described events represent literal occurrences, allegorical teachings, or visionary experiences.

This literary tradition serves multiple functions: reinforcing faith in the attainability of immortality, demonstrating the efficacy of Daoist practices, and preserving oral lore about famous adepts. The stories' mixture of wonder and skepticism itself reflects a core Daoist principle - that ultimate truths often reside beyond ordinary perception, requiring both open-minded inquiry and critical discernment. Through these accounts, the texts invite readers to contemplate deeper realities while maintaining healthy doubt toward superficial marvels.

Jiang Cheng's origins remain unknown. He often walked with a staff, from which hung only a single scroll of texts. Having resided in Chang'an for nearly a year, he frequently associated with frivolous individuals while claiming to have attained the Dao (the Way). When Master Ye Jing learned of this, he deliberately visited to admonish him: "How dare you proclaim yourself a Dao-attainer? You neither purify your physical form nor cleanse your spiritual essence (Shen), yet consort with these worldly people—what kind of Dao attainment is this?"

Jiang Cheng replied: "My body was never defiled—why should it be cleansed? My spirit was never disturbed—why should it be purified? Call me a Dao-attainer if you will, or don't—what difference does it make?"

Ye Jing pressed further: "What do you mean by an undefiled body? An undisturbed spirit? What is Dao attainment?" Jiang Cheng explained: "Consider the exquisite jade of Mount Jing—its warm luster is its innate nature. Even placed among ordinary stones, it remains untainted—such is my body. The Ji River's clarity is its fundamental quality—even merging with the muddy Yellow River, it stays pure—such is my spirit. The great Dao (the Way) itself contains no falsehood. Having attained it, my words naturally accord with Dao."

Ye Jing asked: "What does 'according with Dao' mean?" Jiang Cheng responded: "The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao. The eternal Dao is the great Dao. If I were to consider nobility as inherently noble, wealth as inherently wealthy, humility as inherently humble, and poverty as inherently poor—that would not accord with Dao. I understand how worldly people create hierarchies, yet fail to comprehend Dao's root. Dao's root generates primordial Qi (vital energy), which in turn creates Heaven, Earth, humanity, and the myriad things. Now the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and humanity) are complete, and all phenomena manifest—all originate from Dao. Realizing this, I dwell among nobility without feeling exalted and move through the mundane world without feeling debased, living in perfect unity with creation. Is this not what it means to penetrate the great Dao?"

Ye Jing smiled and said: "I thought prolonged worldly exposure had made you forget how to discourse on Dao. You should still leave this mundane realm—remaining here tarnishes your cultivation." Jiang Cheng replied: "My departure requires no reminder from you. Three hundred years ago I already transcended the mundane world." Ye Jing asked: "If transcended, why remain in it?" Jiang Cheng answered: "I merely stroll through it temporarily—this doesn't mean I haven't transcended it." As Ye Jing bowed to take leave, Jiang Cheng grasped his sleeve and said: "You are the present emperor's friend. As a ruler's companion..."

Shen Jing was a native of Zhejiang who began cultivating the Dao from childhood. Later on Mount Zhong, he encountered an elderly woman who told him, "Your bones are refined and your heart-mind (xin) is upright. In ten years you'll attain the Dao, but you must continue your practice." The old woman gave him a white stone with these instructions: "Boil this stone in mountain spring water without letting the fire go out. When it becomes soft like medicine, you may eat it. If it hasn't softened, don't stop the fire." With these words, she disappeared.

Finding this extraordinary, Shen Jing built a thatched hut in the mountains and spent his days drawing spring water to boil the stone. After ten years, the stone remained hard, so he stopped. One night, the old woman returned and asked why he had ceased. Shen Jing explained he'd boiled it for a decade to no avail. She replied, "This is no ordinary stone. If you boil it with sincere devotion and a tranquil heart (jingxin), it will soften before ten years. But if you harbor doubts, even a decade of boiling won't help."

When Shen Jing asked about the stone's nature, she explained, "This is the fruit of the Qiong Tree [a divine tree of the immortal realms] that somehow fell into the human world and hardened from worldly turbidity (zhuo qi). Boiling it reverently with mountain spring water restores its softness—consuming it brings Dao attainment." Shen Jing bowed in gratitude as the woman vanished again.

After purifying himself through fasting and ablutions (zhaijie muyu), Shen Jing resumed boiling the stone with fresh spring water. The next day, it suddenly softened, filling the mountains with fragrance. Upon eating it after ritual cleansing, his face became youthful, his hair dark, and his body light and vigorous, astonishing the local villagers. Days later, Shen Jing disappeared without trace.

Another account tells of Xiao Yin from Wu region, a striking figure who often wandered famous mountains. He once debated cultivation methods with Ye Jingneng [a renowned Tang dynasty Daoist] and others. When Ye laughed at his seemingly wild claims, Xiao Yin retorted, "Don't trust madmen, nor do I speak mad words." They exchanged smiles and parted. Days later, witnesses saw Xiao Yin flying past mountain passes on a crane.

Both stories emphasize unwavering devotion (chengxin) in Daoist practice: Shen Jing initially failed due to doubt but succeeded through sincere cultivation; Xiao Yin demonstrated profound understanding through debate. The "boiling of white stone" symbolizes refining away worldly impurities, while the "Qiong Tree fruit" represents the precious fruit of Daoist attainment.

There was a man named Yin who had subsisted on pine needles and raw atractylodes (a medicinal herb) since childhood, living in seclusion without social interaction. While wandering through Mount Zhongnan, he encountered a young woman who approached him with a question: "I too am a practitioner of the Dao. May I seek your guidance on cultivation?"

The maiden asked, "Since ancient times, Daoist practitioners have advocated abstaining from sensual pleasures, yet Pengzu (the legendary immortal who lived eight hundred years) spoke openly of the union between Yin and Yang. Who is correct?" Yin replied, "I have never associated with women—how could I discuss such matters?" The maiden countered, "Even an attained master like Pengzu was willing to address matters between men and women. Why can't you?"

Only then did Yin explain: "When the Yellow Emperor sent palace maidens to inquire about the Dao of Yin-Yang union, Pengzu's response was not without merit. The Emperor still clung to sensual desires at that time, hence Pengzu answered accordingly. But Daoist cultivation has always upheld that 'superior practitioners sleep in separate beds, middling practitioners share a bed with separate quilts'—a hundred doses of medicine cannot compare to solitary rest. Even celestial beings must cultivate with single-minded devotion—how could mortals seek immortality without relinquishing desire?"

The maiden pressed further: "Yet ancient records speak of whole families ascending to immortality, and immortals who brought their spouses with them. Didn't they retain worldly attachments?" Yin responded, "Those were celestial beings who reincarnated before returning to their immortal ranks—not examples of ordinary people achieving transcendence through cultivation." When she asked, "Can women like me cultivate the Dao?" he answered, "Certainly. Your nature is Yin—if you preserve this Yin essence without violating Yang, you may attain the Dao." The maiden thanked him and departed.

Later, Yin left Mount Zhongnan for the mountains of Shu. The locals, intrigued by his unusual appearance, frequently disturbed him. Disgusted by their attention, he wandered farther until his whereabouts became unknown.

Another man named Han Ye loved traveling, particularly lingering by flowing waters. In the Qinhuai River lived a three-foot-long divine fish of five colors that would submerge whenever people approached. When Han Ye came to the waterside, someone told him...

There is a peculiar fish in the water—do you recognize it? Ye (a person's name) smiled and replied: This is not a fish. In the blink of an eye, the fish surfaced, displaying dazzling colors. The man asked again: If it's not a fish, then what is it? Ye said: This is the white dragon ridden by Qin Gao (the name of an immortal). Qin Gao sent this dragon to invite a friend.

The man continued: Who is Qin Gao? Ye explained: Qin Gao is an immortal who once briefly descended to the mortal world. Sometimes he would ride this dragon through the waters. Qin Gao feared that mortals would be frightened if they saw a true dragon, so he transformed it into the appearance of a fish. That’s why people believed Qin Gao rode a fish. Today, I recognized its true form. The man asked again: How do you know Qin Gao is here to invite a friend? Ye said: Qin Gao loves flowing water and often lingers by its banks. Now that this dragon has appeared on the waves, it must be to summon a companion. With that, Ye leaped into the water, embraced the fish, and brought it ashore, covering it with grass. By nightfall, when people came to check, both Ye and the fish had vanished without a trace.

The Flute-Playing Maiden often wandered by the banks of the Han River. Beautiful in appearance, she was seventeen or eighteen years old, dressed in green robes, always holding a sheng (a reed pipe instrument). At dawn or dusk, she would play alone, her melodies deeply moving. She traveled solely by a small boat on the Han River, and whenever someone approached, she would immediately depart by boat. For several years, she lived this way along the river—sometimes disappearing for an entire year before returning, other times reappearing after just a month or so. The riverside folk called her "the Flute-Playing Maiden."

In the early Tianbao era (742–756 CE), a libertine nobleman named Wang Yi came all the way from Chang'an to seek her out. He waited by the river for days without seeing her and sighed in disappointment: "In Chang'an, I heard of a fairy-like maiden who plays the sheng here. I traveled far just to glimpse her beauty and hear her celestial music. Yet the riverbank lies empty, without a trace. Has the immortal maiden not come from Penglai today?" Just as he was about to leave dejected, he suddenly saw the maiden approaching alone in her small boat, playing the sheng. Soon, she disembarked and strolled along the shore. Wang Yi slowly approached and said: "Immortal maiden, you've lingered here for years—whom do you await?" The Flute-Playing Maiden turned to Wang Yi with a smile and replied: "I await you." Wang Yi then said: "I am often troubled by melancholy..."

This story recounts the extraordinary encounters of two Daoist cultivators.

First, there was a man named Yi who grew weary of worldly life and sought transcendence. A celestial maiden playing the sheng (reed pipe) said to him: "What is there to cherish in the mortal realm? The joys of youth fade before one can fully savor them, and old age inevitably leads to death. How can this compare to us immortals dwelling in the Penglai paradise, residing in palaces of gold and silver, riding cranes and phoenixes in carefree wanderings, resting in fields of lingzhi mushrooms, and gathering by the Jade Pool? Moreover, we never age nor die—what worries could we possibly have?" Yi jokingly replied, "Could I serve as your sheng-bearer?" The immortal maiden laughed and said, "You’ve long been my old servant." Later, people saw them depart together on a small boat. Yi sent a message back, saying, "Tell the youths of Chang’an that I am journeying far with an immortal maiden and will never return." From then on, no one saw them again.

The other was a man from Zheng named Jing Zhong, who had been devoted to Daoist cultivation since childhood and often gathered medicinal herbs from various mountains. Once, in Shaanzhou, he met an old man who told him, "The true medicines of immortality are found only in the Ten Isles Beyond the Seas (legendary immortal islands), not in the mountains of the mortal world." Jing Zhong retorted, "In ancient times, people attained the Dao by consuming atractylodes and Solomon’s seal—were these herbs gathered from the Ten Isles? The mountains of this world abound with immortal medicines; it’s just that people fail to recognize them or persist in taking them. Besides, how can the Ten Isles compare to the Central Plains? The Central Plains lie at the heart of Heaven and Earth, where all things flourish and civilization thrives. Those who attained the Dao in the Central Plains have appeared in every generation, yet we’ve never heard of anyone from barbarian lands achieving it. The tales of the Ten Isles were fabricated during Emperor Wu of Han’s time—how can they be trusted? I vow to find the elixir of immortality in the mountains of the Central Plains."

This passage recounts the experiences of two Daoist practitioners.

The first story is about a man named Zhong. In his youth, he was devoted to cultivating the Dao (the Way) and traveled far and wide in search of immortal herbs. After forty-nine years of wandering through mountains and rivers, his hair had turned white, yet he still found nothing. Later, he consumed poria cocos (fuling) for over a decade on Mount Qin (also known as Mount Tai). One day, his hair suddenly turned black again, and his body became light and agile. He returned to Shanzhou to search for two elderly men he had once encountered. When the two old men saw him, they smiled and said, "The herb-gathering elder has grown young again!" Before Zhong could speak, the two vanished. He later wandered the world, and his whereabouts became unknown.

The second story tells of He Ning, the son of a wealthy family in Western Shu. In his youth, he left home to cultivate the Dao on Mount Tiantai for over ten years. When he returned, his family asked what he had learned. He Ning replied that cultivating the Dao was not about studying but about realization—whether one attains the Dao depends on one's innate nature. After returning home, he ate only fruit and drank wine. Every autumn, when leaves fell and wild geese flew south, he would lament the sorrows of human life and depart; when flowers bloomed in spring, he would return. Later, when a neighbor passed away, he revived the dead with a medicinal pill. After that, he bid farewell to his family and left for good.

Both stories embody the Daoist principle of "the Dao follows nature" (Dao fa ziran)—cultivating the Dao is not about forced pursuit but about aligning with one's innate nature, realizing it naturally when the time is ripe. The miraculous herbs and resurrection in these tales symbolize the profound attainments of Daoist practice.

I shall journey once more to Mount Tiantai and will not return. Take care of yourselves, each of you." He then took out elixirs from his pouch and distributed them among his family, saying these medicines could extend life to a hundred years. After his departure, someone spotted him riding a tiger into the wilderness, and indeed he never returned. Those who received his elixirs all lived to see their centenary.

Yao Ji was a man of Wei, known for his extravagant and unrestrained nature, unbound by trivial conventions. In his youth, he developed a passion for cultivating the Dao. Once, while wandering by Lake Dongting, he encountered a Daoist who asked him, "You indulge in luxury without restraint, yet seek the path of immortality—why is this?" Yao Ji bowed and replied, "I pursue extravagance to delight my body, and immortality to satisfy my spirit." The Daoist said, "I shall now impart both to you, but you must not teach them to others." With that, he drew from his sleeve a small jade case containing a scroll and handed it to Yao Ji, saying that once he read it, he would grasp its mysteries.

Kneeling as he received the scroll, Yao Ji discovered within it methods for refining the Nine-Cycle Divine Elixir (Jiu Zhuan Shen Dan) and the art of turning iron into gold. He asked the Daoist, "Can consuming this divine elixir truly lead to attaining the Dao? Is transforming copper and iron into gold truly possible?" The Daoist replied, "Copper and iron can be refined into gold, just as any person, wise or foolish, can become an immortal. Copper and iron are pure substances—you need only refine the elixir, consume it, and practice the art of alchemy in tandem."

Upon returning to Wei, Yao Ji began refining elixirs and practicing alchemy. Within a few years, his wealth grew beyond measure, and he regained his youthful vigor. On nights when the moon was full and flowers bloomed, he would host lavish banquets for guests, singing wildly and dancing drunk; or he would seek out secluded scenic spots, riding fine steeds accompanied by musicians and courtesans, returning only after exhausting his pleasures. Everyone in his household wore light, warm robes of exquisite craftsmanship and feasted on the finest delicacies.

Later, during another excursion, Yao Ji encountered the same Daoist from Lake Dongting. He immediately bowed and asked, "Master, why have you not visited me for so long?" The Daoist replied, "Because your habits of extravagance and indulgence remain unchanged, I stayed away. Today, I happened to pass by and see you." Yao Ji said, "Since I did not see you come, my indulgent habits indeed persisted." The Daoist said, "Now it is time to rein in your heart." With a laugh, Yao Ji led the Daoist home, displaying brocades and treasures, hosting a feast with music, and reveling until drunkenness took them. The next day, both the Daoist and Yao Ji had vanished without a trace, and though his family searched everywhere, they found no sign of them.