《席上腐談》

Talks at the Feast is a notebook-style work compiled by Yuan dynasty scholar Yu Yan, included in the Imperial Complete Library of Four Treasuries. The book records various intriguing observations and reflections:

Regarding biological characteristics, Shao Kangjie (Northern Song Neo-Confucianist Shao Yong) proposed: Animals concentrate their vital energy (Qi) in the head, while plants gather theirs in the roots. The feathers of birds resemble wood grain patterns, and the fur of beasts mimics grass textures—birds delight in riding the wind to soar high, while beasts habitually move close to the ground. Aquatic creatures sleep with eyes open, whereas terrestrial creatures rest with eyes closed, a pattern dictated by natural laws. Most aquatic beings die when removed from water, just as land creatures perish when submerged, yet turtles, crabs, geese, and wild ducks thrive in both environments.

The text further notes: Oxen, being docile by nature, appear even more tame when walking with the wind; horses, embodying vigor, display greater majesty when galloping against the wind. Among northern horse herds, a single stallion typically leads a dozen mares, with the mares never straying into other groups—this illustrates the Book of Changes Kun hexagram's principle of "favorable perseverance of the mare." Ants exhibit similar social organization, hence their alternate names "horse ants" or "dark steeds" (Xuanju).

Other fascinating discoveries include: Fish swimming upstream align their scales with the current, while birds facing the wind smooth their feathers accordingly—thus observing a bird's head reveals wind direction. Lice, being Yin creatures with six legs (corresponding to the Water trigram Kan's numerical value in the north), invariably crawl northward. The Rites of Zhou documents seasonal tree-felling: winter for sun-facing southern slopes, summer for shaded northern slopes, accounting for solar angles.

Finally, the text examines an apparent contradiction: According to Five Phases theory, the liver (Wood element) should float yet sinks, while the lungs (Metal element) should sink yet float. This parallels how the southern seas contain both sinking ebony (denser than water) and floating pumice (porous volcanic rock)—both phenomena arising from the interplay of material density and void.

The Erya records that distinguishing male and female birds by appearance can be challenging, but their wing positioning reveals the difference: males fold their left wing over the right, while females do the opposite. Zhang Hua's Bowuzhi also documents this method. Tao Hongjing (the renowned Southern Dynasties Daoist) added another test—burning bird feathers to ashes and placing them in water: ashes that sink indicate a male, while floating ashes signify a female.

Wei Boyang, in Zhouyi Cantongqi, expounds a universal principle: male creatures naturally favor a prone posture, whereas females instinctively lie supine. This characteristic persists not only during life but also after death. The distinction stems from the distribution of Yin and Yang Qi within the body: Yang Qi gathers in the face, making male faces heavier (thus drowned corpses often lie face down), while Yin Qi accumulates in the back, giving females heavier backs (hence their drowned corpses typically float supine). This principle applies equally to terrestrial animals.

The Suwen chapter of Huangdi Neijing, discussing Qi circulation patterns, observes that all objects exhibit phenomena of Qi's ascent, descent, exit, and entry. For instance, opening a window creates airflow impacting both sides; objects dropped into a well descend slowly due to opposing updrafts; sealing the top of an immersed hollow tube prevents water from draining because descending Qi requires ascending Qi to facilitate movement; conversely, pouring water into narrow-necked vessels proves difficult when trapped air cannot escape.

In my youth, a Daoist demonstrated an intriguing phenomenon: placing burning paper into an empty bottle, then swiftly inverting it over water caused liquid to rush inward with metallic resonance—a manifestation of fire Qi's action. By the same principle, pressing such bottles against robust men's abdomens made them adhere like copper kettles—water stays when the spout is covered, dripping only upon release. Practitioners visualizing the upper Dantian (Muddy Pellet Palace) can guide lower Dantian Qi upward, exemplifying "where Shen (spirit) arrives, Qi follows." Techniques like pressing the coccyx during breath-controlled saliva swallowing in bedroom arts, though superficial applications of these principles, still achieve essence retention effects.

A simple method for determining temporal Yin-Yang attributes involves monitoring breath flow: during Yang-dominated hours, airflow favors the left nostril; Yin-dominated periods emphasize the right. The transition between Hai and Zi hours brings simultaneous bilateral airflow—a state Neidan practitioners term "Twin Jade Caverns Opening," marking an optimal condition.

Finally, beware consuming meat from diseased horses—especially liver. Medical texts note horses belong to the Fire phase among livestock; their livers lack gallbladder Qi (Wood-organ deficiency), making consumption hazardous. The Shiji records Duke Mu of Qin suffered misfortune from this very cause.

Duke Mu of Qin lost his horse, which was caught and eaten by villagers in the mountains, involving over three hundred people. Officials wanted to punish them according to law, but the Duke said, "A virtuous man does not harm human lives over livestock. I've heard eating horse meat without drinking wine harms the body." He then gave them wine and pardoned them. Recently, I witnessed my townsman Ge Hengzhai suffering from swelling after eating horse meat—he recovered after drinking boiled wine with salt, proving wine indeed counteracts horse meat's toxicity.

The Zuo Zhuan records "mad dogs bite anyone they see," with Du Yu's commentary explaining "瘈" means rabid. The Book of Song mentions Zhang Shou being bitten by a rabid dog ("猘犬") and recovering after eating toad meat. Some also claim almonds cure dog bites.

The Book of Rites: Inner Rules lists culinary taboos: remove the intestines from wolves, the spine from civets, the tail from rabbits, the head from foxes, the brain from pigs, the "乙" part from fish, and the anus from turtles. Zheng Xuan's commentary states these are all harmful to humans. The Zuo Zhuan records Duke Wen of Jin dreaming of Duke Cheng of Chu sucking his brains while lying prone; Zi Fan interpreted this as an auspicious omen foretelling the enemy's submission. Du Yu notes brains soften things—today, pig brains are used to tan leather. Someone who ate a pig brain reportedly became paralyzed a year later, confirming these warnings.

Regarding "removing '乙' from fish," Zheng Xuan identifies it as a toxic substance. The croaker fish of the East Sea has a bone near its eye called "乙," shaped like the seal-script character "乙," which can fatally lodge in the throat. The Erya dictionary states fish skulls are called "丁," intestines "乙," and tails "丙." I argue Zheng Xuan's "乙" as bone and the Erya's as intestine both derive from their "乙"-like shapes. Following the "remove wolf intestines" precedent, fish "乙" likely refers to bone, not gut.

A Tang poem describes "cuckoos cry their name in flight, the Ba River flows like writing," likening the river's bends to the character "巴." Some say frogs resemble "虫," earthworms mimic "之"—just as fish bones resemble "乙." Lu Guimeng claimed ducks call their own name, but magpies, cats, and dogs also vocalize their names—not just ducks and cuckoos.

Will-o'-the-wisps, called "ghost fire," form from the blood of fallen soldiers or livestock. Fireflies are also named "燐," as ancients believed these were manifestations of condensed Yin energy.

The Talks at the Banquet records several amusing anecdotes about natural phenomena. There was an old servant who originally didn't believe in ghosts and spirits. One night while collecting rents, he saw many "ghost fires." While others fled in terror, emboldened by alcohol, he went forward to swat at them—only to discover they were actually reflections from damp rhododendron leaves. The author himself once mistook glowing wet shrimp shells for supernatural manifestations by a waterside pavilion after rain. Ye Yuyan, while at Mount Wutai, saw luminous damp pine bark at night and collected a whole bag to show off back in Jiangnan. A few days later when the bark dried and stopped glowing, he could only laugh and discard it. These phenomena were all reflections produced by moist objects, not actual flames.

The book also examines ancient rituals and clothing. The ancient "offering ceremony" (xiangli) resembled modern pre-banquets, emphasizing ceremonial decorum with wine vessels displayed but not consumed, while the "feast ceremony" (yanli) functioned like post-banquets where everyone dined together. The ancient "plain gathered robe" (suji) was a finely pleated garment made from exceptionally fine fifteen-sheng cloth (approximately 1,200 threads), with pleats at the waist. Regarding textiles, it clarifies that northerners called fine soft woolen fabric "zirong," now commonly miswritten as "purple velvet" (zirong). It explains that the "coarse cloth" (he) mentioned in the Book of Songs refers to short hemp garments worn by the poor—not wool as Zheng Xuan annotated—since wool was far more precious than ramie fabric at that time and couldn't have been paupers' clothing. The text also corrects the scribal error where "woven silk" (zhisi) became misread as "poured silk" (zhusi) through textual transmission.

The woolen garments people wear today were known in ancient times as "cuì yī" (clothes made from fine, soft bird or animal down). The term "méng" describes the fluffy, delicate texture, much like in the phrase "fox fur méng róng" from the Book of Songs. In folk usage, it was written as "氁," which essentially refers to a woolen sweater. The character "毛" (fur) was mistakenly transmitted as "méng," which was then further altered to "氁."

Woolen textiles had various names: felt was also called "máo xí" (fur mat), and blankets were known as "máo rù" (fur bedding), just as bamboo hats were referred to as "zhú jīn" (bamboo kerchief). An Eastern Han commentary on the Account of the Western Regions states that felt is the same as "máo xí." In Zhang Heng's Poem of Four Sorrows, the line "the beauty gifted me a zhān qú shū" refers to a felt carpet. Fu Qian's Popular Explanations further notes that woven woolen bedding was called "qú shū," while finely woven felt was termed "tà dēng." This "tà dēng" was typically placed on a small step-stool in front of a large bed, serving as a footrest before climbing onto the bed.

Among lacquerware, there was a type called "xī pí" (rhinoceros hide), which actually originated from the Xipi Kingdom, with the name later corrupted to "xī pí." Similarly, "guì jiāng" (cinnamon syrup) originally came from the Jijiang Kingdom but was misrecorded as "guì jiāng." From this, we can infer that "qú shū" might have been derived from the name of the Quzhuai Kingdom, sharing the same pronunciation but written differently. The Xipi Kingdom was likely the same as the "Zhīpí Kingdom" mentioned in the Tribute of Yu section of the Book of Documents, with the name later corrupted to "Xipi."

The "fú tóu" (a traditional male headwrap) originated during the reign of Emperor Wu of the Northern Zhou dynasty. It was made from a whole piece of cloth wrapped around the head, hence the name "fú tóu." The character "fú" is pronounced like "fú" in "fú bèi" (a type of bedding), though it is now often mispronounced as "pú." In Han Yu's Poem of Virtue in the Yuanhe Era, the line "binding the head with red silk" refers to wrapping the head with red fabric, similar to today's forehead bands. Originally, "pà shǒu" (headscarf) and "fú tóu" were the same item, but they have since diverged into two distinct forms.

In the Tang dynasty, "fú tóu" was initially made from black gauze. Later, because it was too soft, a wooden frame shaped like a mountain peak was inserted inside, called a "jǔ róng tóu," said to have been invented by the eunuch Yu Chao'en. This design continued into the Five Dynasties period. By the Song dynasty, it was replaced with wicker frames, then gauze again, and finally lacquered gauze. Emperor Wu of Zhou's original "fú tóu" resembled today's knotted kerchiefs, with two hanging flaps and no ties. Tang dynasty wearers added four ribbons—two hanging in front and two behind. The Song dynasty modified this further by stiffening the two side flaps with wire to prevent them from coming loose during court sessions. Recently, a summer version called "liáng zī jīn" has become popular, made with a bamboo frame resembling a coolie hat and covered in black gauze for easy wear in hot weather. This shows how the style of "fú tóu" has evolved over time, leading to the significant differences between ancient and modern designs.

Once, I saw a courtesan performing the "Zhe Zhi" dance wearing a red headpiece shaped like a slender, pointed boot...

This passage primarily examines the phonetic and semantic evolution of ancient terms along with dialectal variations, which can be understood through several aspects:

Regarding the evolution of musical instrument names: The text mentions that the "Zhezhi Dance" was originally called "Tuobashi" during the Northern Wei Dynasty, later modified to "Zhezhi" by changing "Tuo" to "Zhe" and "Ba" to "Zhi." The pipa (Chinese lute) was anciently called "Pipo." In Tang dynasty poetry, the character "Pa" was read with a checked tone (short, abrupt sound), pronounced like "Bi." When Wang Zhaojun saw the modified smaller version of the pipa adapted by the Hu people, she laughed and called it "Hunbusi" (completely unlike), which later became corrupted into "Hubosi."

Concerning the instrument "Bili": In the Book of Songs (Shijing) and Shuowen Jiezi (ancient dictionary), it was written as "Bi." Zhu Xi (Huian) stated its original name was "Beili" (sorrowful reed) due to its solemn sound. The pronunciations of "Bei," "Bi," and "Bi" are actually quite similar.

On dialectal pronunciation differences: In Zhang Heng's "Four Sorrows Poem," the term "gold-inlaid knife" uses "Cuo" (inlay), which corresponds to today's character "Cuo" (polish). Northerners pronounce "Cuo" with a departing tone, while southerners use a checked tone, yet they refer to the same character.

Regarding character borrowing phenomena: "Xumei" (beard and eyebrows) in Xunzi was written as "Xumi"; "Zixu" (mustache and beard) was also written as "Zishu." Yang Liang's commentary explains that "Mi" is equivalent to "Mei," and "Zi" corresponds to "Zi." "Longzi" means "Longshu," as "Shu" and "Xu" share similar pronunciations.

On ancient object names: The device for catching rainwater from eaves was called "Chenglou," made of wood, equivalent to today's "Chengluo." The waterwheel was anciently called "Fu," though Yang Liang mistakenly thought it referred to a flail for threshing rice.

About names for ditches: Cui Bao's Ancient and Modern Commentary states that the imperial moat in Chang'an was called "Yang Ditch" due to the tall poplar trees planted alongside it; it was also called "Sheep Ditch" to prevent sheep from bumping into walls. Nowadays, hidden drainage ditches within courtyards are called "Yin Ditches" (hidden ditches), while exposed ones are termed "Yang Ditches" (open ditches).

Concerning dialect vocabulary: People in the Wu region call stacked firewood "Chaiji," with "Ji" pronounced as "Ji," derived from the Rites of Zhou's term "Weiji" (referring to stored provisions and firewood). This has been corrupted into "Ji," and the phrase "Weiji Tingliu" (storing provisions) is now mispronounced as "Ji Liu."

Lastly, while the Book of Rites and Mencius both state "there are not two suns in heaven," the Zuo Commentary presents a different view.

Legend speaks of ten suns in the sky, which actually refers to the ten Heavenly Stems (Jia, Yi, Bing, Ding, etc.). Yet the Liezi claims that during Emperor Yao's reign, ten suns appeared simultaneously, and the Zhuangzi and Huainanzi further exaggerated this tale. Though meant as allegory, isn't this rather excessive? Some argue historical records document two suns battling each other, but I find this implausible. For instance, the "two suns wrestling" recorded in November of the sixth year of the Qianfu era in the Tang Dynasty was merely sunlight reflecting on rippling water at dawn, creating the illusion of celestial collision—how could there truly be two suns in the sky?

Regarding the lunar hare (Fangri Tu) and solar crow (Biyue Wu) among the twenty-eight lunar mansions, the Scripture of Elixirs (Dan Shu) describes "the sun's crow and moon's hare," representing solar-lunar convergence. The Yijing uses the Li trigram (☲) for the sun (Yang containing Yin) and Kan trigram (☵) for the moon (Yin containing Yang), embodying Zhang Zai's principle of mutual containment between Yin and Yang essences. Hares, with four paws (even number), are classified as Yin creatures by Zhang Heng, while crows' three toes mark them as Yang (odd number). I contend the hare should symbolize the sun—the so-called "jade hare in the moon" actually represents sunlight reflected on the lunar surface. Neidan practitioners use this metaphor for Shen (spirit) merging with Qi (vital energy), like sunlight penetrating the moon, hence adopting the jade hare as symbolic imagery. The vulgar belief in an actual medicine-pounding hare on the moon is absurd. Consider how a person hundreds of paces away appears ant-sized, and mountains dozens of miles distant vanish from sight—how could we discern a hare on the moon hundreds of thousands of miles away? If visible, how enormous would this hare need to be?

Zhang Heng's account describes Houyi obtaining immortality elixir from the Queen Mother of the West, only for his wife Chang'e to steal it, fly to the moon, and transform into a toad. Though Liu Zhao praised Zhang Heng's astronomical expertise, this Chang'e-to-toad transformation likely perpetuates earlier errors. The Jin Shu's astronomical treatise records Xihe observing the sun, Changyi monitoring the moon ("Yi" pronounced like "moth"), and Quche tracking stars. Modern references to "Chang'e the Moon Goddess" or conflating sun/moon as "Xi'e" compound these mistakes. The very notion of a lunar Chang'e is fictitious—let alone fabricated palaces like the "Moon Palace" or "Palace of Purity and Emptiness"—these are sheer fallacies.

(Note: This passage critically examines ancient solar/lunar myths through astronomical observation and Yin-Yang philosophy, reflecting the Daoist emphasis on empirical verification over superstition. "Elixir practitioners" refers to Neidan adepts who frequently employ solar/lunar symbolism to represent Yin-Yang interaction in cultivation.)

The legends about toads, jade rabbits, and cassia trees in the moon are mere fabrications, yet such tales date back to the Warring States period. The Chuci (Songs of Chu) asks: "What virtue (De) does the night light (moon) possess that it dies and is reborn? What benefit does it seek, nurturing a rabbit within its belly?" Zhu Xi (Huian) explained that "tu" (菟) refers to "rabbit" (兔), noting how folk tales of cassia trees and toad-shaped moonlight have misled people for ages.

A more scientific explanation suggests that the sun and moon are like mirrors suspended in space, reflecting each other with Earth positioned between them. The dark shadows seen on their surfaces are actually Earth's outline reflected in these mirrors—merely resembling certain objects rather than containing them. This interpretation is quite reasonable and effectively dispels millennia-old misconceptions.

During the Southern Song dynasty, the Prince of Cangwu ordered Yang Yufu to observe Vega crossing the Milky Way, threatening, "Report if you see it, or I'll have you killed if you don't." Ironically, Yang ended up killing the prince instead. In reality, Vega is a fixed star, unchanging in position—how could it possibly cross a river? This is actually an alchemical metaphor: Neidan (internal alchemy) practitioners refer to the ascending true Qi along the spine as the "Yellow River flowing backward," likening the Conception and Governing Vessels to the Heavenly River (Milky Way), and using the Cowherd and Weaver Girl to symbolize the union of Yin and Yang energies within the body. When Du Fu wrote, "The Cowherd and Weaver Girl cross the Heavenly River year after year," or when Zhang Lei (Wenqian) described the Weaver Girl's fleeting joy surpassing Chang'e's lonely existence in the Moon Palace, these were merely literary flourishes—not to be taken literally.

Vega is just the name of a star; how could it possibly possess a loom? The legend of Empress Wu Zetian receiving a golden shuttle on the Qixi Festival was actually a courtier's trick, much like Emperor Zhenzong of Song's fabricated "Heavenly Texts"—both were artificially staged auspicious omens.

The Yellow River originates from the earthly Kunlun Mountains, flowing east to Jieshi before emptying into the sea, which is why Yu the Great's flood control efforts stopped at Jieshi. Meanwhile, the Heavenly River (Milky Way) follows celestial motion, ceaselessly turning with the sky—how could it possibly connect with the Yellow River? When Li Bai wrote, "The Yellow River's waters descend from heaven," he was metaphorically treating Kunlun as the heavens. The Heavenly River and the ocean are worlds apart—how could a wooden raft possibly reach it? The Bowuzhi (Records of Diverse Matters) recounts someone reaching the Heavenly River by raft to meet the Cowherd and Weaver Girl, revealing the absurdity of such claims.

The Liezi states that Nüwa mended the heavens with five-colored stones, a notion Confucian scholars dismissed as preposterous. After all, how could the heavens possibly break?

The legend of Nüwa mending the heavens has led some to question how stone could possibly repair a gap in the sky, especially when celestial bodies are in constant motion, making the task seem impossible. While this skepticism appears reasonable, it fundamentally misunderstands the true meaning of the "five-colored stones"—they are actually a metaphor for the Qi (vital energy) of the five internal organs in the human body.

In the practice of health cultivation and Neidan (internal alchemy), through the skill of "inner vision" (focused observation within the body), the Qi of the five organs can be gathered into the Dantian (the lower abdominal energy center). This refined Qi then rises upward from the Dantian, reaching the brain. Ancient practitioners referred to the brain as "Kunlun," symbolizing the heavens. Thus, "mending the heavens" actually refers to the practice described in the Huangting Jing (Scripture of the Yellow Court) as "filling the brain"—the principle that "to attain immortality, one must cultivate Kunlun (the brain)." The modern folk tale that Nüwa refined the five-colored stones at Caishiji in Jiangdong to mend the heavens is a distortion that arose from misunderstanding.

As for Nüwa's identity, later generations often depict her as Fuxi’s sister, Zhuanxu’s mother, and a revered ancient sage. However, a closer examination reveals that the character "nü" (女, female) in "Nüwa" may simply be part of the name, much like the names Nü’ai, Yünü Gao, or Feng Fu in ancient texts—not necessarily indicating female figures. For example, in the phrase "Huangtian Houtu" (皇天后土, "August Heaven and Sovereign Earth"), the character "hou" (后) is actually a phonetic loan for "hou" (厚, meaning "vast" or "abundant"). The Houtu Temple in Yangzhou mistakenly depicts the Earth God as a female figure, but according to the Yueling (Monthly Ordinances) and Jifa (Sacrificial Rites), Houtu was actually a descendant of Zhuanxu or Gonggong’s son Julong, who pacified the nine provinces and was honored as the God of the Earth—hardly a female deity. Just as the Son of Heaven was called "Yuanhou" and feudal lords were called "Qunhou," interpreting "Houtu" as female would absurdly imply that Houkui and Houji were also female.

Zhu Xi once criticized the practice of creating statues of deities for worshiping heaven, earth, and mountains as highly irrational. Examining the Jiaosi Zhi (Treatise on Sacrifices) from the Western Han dynasty, sacrifices to heaven and earth were conducted jointly, with the divine tablets facing south and sharing offerings. Emperor Gaozu of Han and Empress Lü were enshrined together on the same altar, reflecting the principle of "Qian as father, Kun as mother." At that time, there were no statues—only spirit tablets. In truth, the gods of mountains, rivers, and the cosmos are formless and imageless. Yet today, the God of the Eastern Peak is depicted as an emperor, complete with consorts and concubines—an absurdity that begs the question: must we also investigate which family’s daughter he married?

Temples dedicated to the local earth gods are found throughout the land, commonly called "City God Temples" (Chenghuang Miao) because they were traditionally built beneath city walls. When ancient people constructed city walls, they dug earth to build the ramparts. The dry moat beneath the walls was called "huang" (隍), while water-filled moats were called "chi" (池). The Book of Changes (Yijing) mentions "city walls collapsing to fill the moats," much like how the Tai hexagram at its topmost line transforms into the initial line of the Pi hexagram—when walls crumble, the earth returns to fill the trenches. Originally, moats only existed where there were walls, yet some county towns without walls still call their earth god temples "City God Temples," which makes little sense.

The Annals of Lü Buwei (Lüshi Chunqiu) records Duke Ai of Lu asking Confucius: "I've heard that Kui (legendary music master under Emperor Shun) had only one foot—is this true?" Confucius replied: "To harmonize musical tones and coordinate the eight sounds, one person is sufficient." I believe Duke Ai was actually inquiring about the one-footed ghost creature also called "Kui." Similar to claims that the Yellow Emperor had four eyes or Emperor Yao had eight eyebrows, these are unfounded rumors. The Eastern Han text Biography of Cao Bao records Emperor Zhang telling Ban Gu: "When Yao composed the 'Great Harmony' music, one Kui was enough." This likely carries the same meaning as Confucius' reply—Kui was actually the music official under Emperor Shun who instructed noble youths, while Duke Ai mistakenly thought it referred to the one-footed monster. The true one-footed creature is the mountain sprite (shanxiao), depicted in the Daoist Yanluozi Diagrams as a conjoined being with a single foot. Hence Tang poetry describes "the mountain sprite hopping on one foot"—how could Kui be confused with such ghosts?

The Kong Congzi states that earth and stone spirits are called "Kui Wangliang," while the Discourses of the States (Guoyu) calls wood and stone spirits "Kui Mangliang"—neither mentions a one-footed creature. Yet Zhuangzi claims "Kui hops along on one foot," with commentary describing it as a hornless, ox-like beast whose thunderous voice carried five hundred li when the Yellow Emperor made drums from its skin—an absurd notion.

During the Eastern Han, a southwestern barbarian kingdom claimed descent from Panhu (the mythical divine dog) of the Yellow Emperor's era. The Panhu legends are bizarre and defy reason. Such irrational matters can only be discussed with discerning people—there's no need to debate them with ordinary folk. Generally, those who fabricate strange tales like to attribute them to the Yellow Emperor's time. The credulous believe them, but the perceptive know better.

Mount Dagu resembles a shoe, while Mount Xiaogu looks like an incense stick. Between these facing peaks lies a place called Penglangji.

People nowadays refer to Xiaogushan ("Lone Mountain") as "Little Maiden" and Penglangji ("Billowing Waves Jetty") as "Young Master Peng," claiming the young master married the maiden. When passing boats sail by their temples along the river, travelers always pay reverent homage.

In Wenzhou, there stands a local earth god temple enshrining "Auntie Du Shi" and "Lord Five-Beard." Since Auntie Du had no husband and Lord Five-Beard no wife, the locals paired them together for joint worship. This "Auntie Du Shi" was actually Du Fu (who once held the position of Left Reminder at court), while "Lord Five-Beard" was Wu Zixu (depicted in portraits with five wisps of beard). If Du Fu's spirit were aware, he might bitterly joke to Wu Zixu: "You at least get addressed as 'Lord,' while I've been turned into 'Auntie'—isn't this making me effeminate?"

Recently, I heard from Li Yu, an official in the surveillance commission, about a place called "Fengjia Station" north of Jiangling. Initially puzzled by the name "Fengjia," inquiries with local elders revealed it was originally the residence of Lord Chunshen, with the character "Chun" corrupted to "Feng" and "Shen" to "Jia."

Visitors from the Central Plains mentioned a Temple of the Ox King in the north, its walls painted with hundreds of oxen and the Ox King seated at the center. When asked who this Ox King was, it turned out to be Ran Geng (styled Boniu), a disciple of Confucius. Alas, Ran Boniu had been deified as the Ox King!

Zhenwu ("Perfect Warrior") was originally Xuanwu ("Mysterious Warrior," representing the seven northern constellations). During the Song dynasty, the character "Xuan" was changed to "Zhen" to avoid using the personal name of an imperial ancestor. Xuanwu originally referred to the seven constellations of the Northern Dipper—Dou, Niu, Nü, Xu, Wei, Shi, and Bi—located in the northern quadrant associated with the water element. Families south of the Yangtze worship the Xuanwu deity to suppress fires, much like Emperor Wu of Han adorned his Boliang Hall with chiwei ornaments (legendary water creatures) to symbolize water overcoming fire, or how Xuzhou's Yellow Tower used earth-toned colors to represent earth conquering water.

Zhu Xi (styled Huian) remarked: Zhenwu isn't some deity with disheveled hair—it's simply the Xuanwu constellation. The Azure Dragon, Vermilion Bird, White Tiger, and Xuanwu aren't actual animals but are named after the shapes formed by star patterns. The Horn constellation resembles dragon horns, the Heart constellation a dragon's heart, and the Tail constellation a dragon's tail—collectively called the Azure Dragon. The Xu and Wei constellations resemble a tortoise, combined with the adjacent Tengshe star, forming Xuanwu (changed to Zhenwu during Emperor Zhenzong's reign to avoid taboo). The four stars of the Shen constellation resemble a tiger's legs, hence White Tiger; the Yi constellation resembles bird wings, the Zhen constellation a bird's crop, and the Jing constellation a bird's crest—collectively called Vermilion Bird. Lu Tong's poetic line "wearing the Jing constellation as a crown" and Yang Xiong's reference to "dragon, tiger, and dark tortoise" both allude to these celestial configurations.

Xuanwu is simply another name for the tortoise. As tortoises belong to aquatic creatures, the north corresponds to water, and their color is black (xuan), hence "dark tortoise." Their armored shell provides defense (wu), hence "warrior." Ultimately, it refers to the tortoise as a single creature. The seven northern constellations (Dou, Niu, Nü, Xu, Wei, Shi, and Bi) form a celestial pattern resembling intertwined tortoise and serpent shapes.

This passage reveals the divergence between Daoist beliefs and common secular understanding through various allusions and dialogues.

Regarding the image of Xuanwu (one of the Four Divine Beasts in Daoism), practitioners use the entwined turtle and snake to symbolize the harmonious blending of water and fire within the human body. However, ordinary people mistakenly assume Xuanwu simply represents these two animals. Jia Sidao employed this allusion at a banquet to mock an official who refused to eat turtle, sparking playful banter among the guests.

The text also discusses the misinterpretation of "earthworm holes" in Han Yu’s poetry, clarifying that the phrase actually describes the shape of a stone tripod’s openings rather than the sound of earthworms. Citing ancient texts, it explains that earthworms do not produce sounds, correcting the misnomer "songstress" used by people in Jiangdong. Zhu Xi (Hui’an) criticized the arbitrary combination of Xuanwu and other sacred figures in his time as lacking rational basis.

In terms of human physiology, medical scholars traditionally held that the liver houses the hun (ethereal soul) while the lungs store the po (corporeal soul). Daoism further developed this into the theory of "three hun and seven po." Bai Yuchan’s concept of "three dragons and four tigers" actually draws from the Taixuan Jing (Classic of Supreme Mystery), where the number three symbolizes Wood and four represents Metal in numerical symbolism. Su Zhe (Ziyou) recorded ancient anatomical knowledge correlating the left and right kidneys with the bladder and the triple burner (sanjiao).

These discussions illustrate how the ancients employed natural phenomena and numerical symbolism to explain the relationship between the human body and the cosmos. At the same time, they reflect the misunderstandings and evolutions that arose as scholarly ideas spread over time.

This passage discusses two key medical concepts: the Triple Burner (Sanjiao) and the Conception and Governing Vessels (Ren-Du meridians).

Regarding the Triple Burner (the collective term for upper, middle, and lower burners in Chinese medicine), the author refutes Wang Shuhe's (a Jin dynasty physician) claim that "the Triple Burner has a name but no concrete form." Citing the Baihu Tong (Comprehensive Discussions in the White Tiger Hall), the text describes: the upper burner resembles orifices, the middle burner resembles woven fabric, and the lower burner resembles drainage ditches—demonstrating that the Triple Burner indeed has tangible manifestations. The author identifies the Triple Burner with what Daoist practice calls the Yellow Court (Huangting, the Dantian region), where the heart fire and kidney fire converge, equivalent to the "martial fire" (intense heat) used in alchemical practices. Although the Song dynasty scholar Shen Kuo also regarded the Yellow Court as having a name without form, he failed to recognize it as the Triple Burner.

Concerning the Conception and Governing Vessels (major energy channels in the body), the passage explains: the Conception Vessel (Renmai) originates below the lower abdomen, ascending along the midline to the throat, serving as the sea of yin meridians; the Governing Vessel (Dumai) begins at the tailbone, traveling up the spine to the crown of the head as the sea of yang meridians. Daoists believe that unblocking these vessels can prolong life—for instance, white deer living five hundred years achieved longevity through open Governing Vessels, while tortoises owe their long lives to clear Conception Vessels. These meridians form a circulatory loop within the body, mirroring the celestial paths of the sun and moon. The Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Scripture) refers to them as "celestial channels" (energy pathways within the body), maintaining that consistent cultivation through them leads to immortality.

The author concludes with a personal account: his newborn child neither cried nor nursed, dying three days after birth. Later, while studying medical texts like the Baosheng Fang (Life-Preserving Formulas) and Sanyin Fang (Three Causes Formulas), he learned this might have resulted from wind pathogens entering during umbilical cord cutting. The wind toxins could ascend from the navel to the gums, forming yellow pus-filled abscesses causing pain—a condition treatable by lancing the abscess to drain the pus.

These passages from Xi Shang Fu Tan record several cases and perspectives on health cultivation techniques and bedroom arts:

Regarding infants who fail to cry or suckle after birth, medical classics like Suwen and Nanjing state that the Conception Vessel (Renmai, the meridian along the body's front midline) originates below the lower abdomen, passes through the abdomen and reaches the throat. Zhu Gong's Illustrations of Inner and Outer Landscapes indicates that the Yinjiao acupoint between the upper and lower teeth marks where the Conception and Governing Vessels (Ren-Du) intersect. Newborns' inability to cry or nurse results from pathogenic wind invading the Conception Vessel.

A wine merchant named Wu from Mudu suffered from persistent seminal loss unresponsive to any medication. The author taught him a simple method: contract the abdomen and perineum, close the eyes with focused awareness, visualize the head feeling heavy as if supporting a stone, then guide Qi up the back to the crown (Mud Ball Palace, or Baihui point) before swallowing it back to the Dantian (elixir field below the navel). Practicable anytime regardless of frequency, this method cured his condition within six months without taking the recommended Baozhen Pill, restoring his rosy complexion. It also alleviated headaches.

Some Daoist heterodox schools advocate breathing techniques involving nasal inhalation and oral exhalation, claiming they prevent essence leakage. Initially skeptical, the author confirmed their efficacy through practice, finding they could also treat nocturnal emissions.

The so-called "Three Peaks Battle Harvesting" bedroom art (a deviant practice of energy extraction through sexual techniques), falsely attributed to the Yellow Emperor and Dark Maiden (Xuannü), fraudulently claims masters like Rongcheng Gong and Pengzu achieved longevity through it. Many scholar-officials were deluded into practicing it, resulting in fatal consequences. Ge Hong likened this to placing boiling water in an ice bowl or wrapping firebrands in feathers—as perilous as licking honey from a blade or stealing cubs from a tiger's den.

Beimeng Suoyan records how Tang dynasty chancellor Xiahou Zi died from essence leakage when courtesans refused cooperation during his Pengzu technique practice. The author's maternal grandfather Yanqiu Gong, while serving as Dali Pingshi, also practiced this method. Though maintaining a youthful complexion at seventy, he ultimately met the same fate as Xiahou Zi. Alchemists compare this to "the bucket's bottom dropping out"—while middle-aged practitioners with robust essence might temporarily control the process, aging practitioners with depleted essence risk sudden, catastrophic collapse.

Yijian Zhi documents how Daoist Wu employed dark arts to murder a county clerk's wife, only to be slain by the clerk in retribution. These cases collectively demonstrate how heterodox methods ultimately harm both practitioner and victim alike.

(Note: "Mud Ball" refers to the Baihui acupoint at the crown, "Dantian" indicates the Qihai point three inches below the navel, "Tail Gate" denotes the perineum region, and "bucket's bottom dropping out" symbolizes sudden essence collapse in Daoist terminology.)

This passage presents various Daoist perspectives on the principles of human conception while critiquing certain heterodox interpretations.

Du Anren, a Daoist from Jiuhua Mountain, authored the Xiantian Daxue Xingming Shu in nine chapters. While comprehensive in scope, critics note his problematic use of the Yijing's "withered willow sprouts new shoots" hexagram (Daguo) as a metaphor for sexual cultivation techniques (fangzhongshu, dual cultivation methods). This was seen as dressing up bedroom arts with classical authority rather than embodying the true Dao of clarity and Wuwei (non-action).

Fushanzi (also known as Gu), in his commentary on the Yinfu Jing, controversially interpreted "marvelous vessel" (qiqi) as "unbroken maidenhood," severely distorting the scripture's meaning. His forced interpretations of the Cantong Qi similarly betrayed Wei Boyang's original intent, earning him the reputation of being a "betrayer" of this classic. Though Zhen Dexiu (Xishan) wrote a preface for his work, Confucian scholars largely dismissed it as heretical.

Sanguzi (Qiu Shan, styled An Dao, from Nancheng, Jiangxi) proposed in Question 38 of his Jindan Baiwen that during intercourse, male-initiated arousal followed by female response produces male offspring, while the reverse yields female children. When both partners achieve spiritual harmony, smooth Qi (vital energy) flow, and abundant Jing (essence), they conceive healthy, fortunate children. Deficient essence results in deformed or short-lived offspring. Sanguzi reportedly learned his Golden Elixir (Jindan) methods from the Golden Flower Elder during the Qiandao era before composing this text.

Chu Huagu (from Yunjian) asserted in Quyi Shuo that expansive Qi forms males while contractive Qi forms females. Li Yuxi (of Yichun), annotating the Jade Emperor's Heart Seal Scripture, maintained that men and women receive the same primordial Qi, with Yin-Yang differentiation arising from the sequence of energetic response.

The Chushi Yishu records that when yin blood arrives before yang essence, their union forms male fetuses, while reversed timing produces females. Shi Jianwu's Zhong-Lu Transmission of the Dao similarly states: "When father's essence enters first and combines with mother's blood afterward, a boy is conceived; when mother's blood arrives first to meet father's essence, a girl is formed."

These diverse theories collectively reflect Daoism's distinctive understanding of human gestation while revealing contemporary controversies surrounding sexual cultivation practices. The tensions between orthodox teachings and disputed interpretations highlight the tradition's ongoing negotiation between physiological theories and spiritual cultivation.

This passage discusses ancient theoretical debates regarding the conception of male and female offspring, focusing on two opposing viewpoints.

The theory of Chu Cheng posits that if the mother’s menstrual blood (经血) arrives first and the father’s essence (精, Jing) follows, the essence being enveloped by blood results in a female child. Conversely, if the father’s essence arrives first and the mother’s blood follows, the blood enveloping the essence produces a male child. However, the author points out significant flaws in this theory.

The author recalls a nighttime conversation thirty years prior with Chief Administrator Wen Cixiao, who favored the theories of Sanguzi and Chu Huagu over Sun Simiao’s assertion regarding the "Heavenly Gui" (天癸, Tian Gui, referring to menstruation) occurring on specific days. They cited the Suwen (素问, Basic Questions) and the teachings of Bai Yuchan to argue that the waxing and waning of human Qi (气) and blood follow lunar phases: vitality peaks from the first quarter moon to the full moon and declines from the last quarter to the new moon. This cyclical pattern, they noted, is also observed in nature—such as in fish brains, clams, and crabs, whose vitality fluctuates with the moon.

The author mentions witnessing many officials applying this lunar theory to seek sons, with some achieving success. Yet he emphasizes that conception ultimately depends on heavenly mandate (天命, Tianming) and cannot be forced by human effort. He cites the example of a nobleman in his hometown who, adhering blindly to Chu Cheng’s theory, fathered multiple daughters before switching to Sanguzi’s method and finally conceiving a son.

Recently, in conversation with Guo Boying, the author discovered that he too had been misled by Chu Cheng’s theory, fathering six daughters before realizing his error. The author advises adopting the correct approach: if the father’s Yang essence (阳精) arrives first and the mother’s Yin blood (阴血) subsequently envelops it, the Yang energy remaining internal forms a male fetus—a principle aligning with the Yijing’s (易经, Book of Changes) statement that "the Dao of Qian forms males" (乾道成男).

This text reflects ancient medical explorations into the determinants of fetal sex, incorporating both astronomical observations and philosophical reasoning. Yet the author stresses the importance of discerning truth from fallacy in theory, cautioning against blind adherence.

This passage extensively discusses the Dao of procreation, from the union of Yin and Yang to fetal formation and postnatal care, presenting remarkably rich content.

Regarding conception, it explains that when yin blood (the female ovum) arrives first and is then enveloped by yang essence (male sperm), with yin inside and yang outside, a female fetus is formed. This illustrates the principle of the Kun (feminine principle) seeking from the Qian (masculine principle) to create female offspring.

A question arises: Why do wealthy households with multiple concubines often have few heirs, while impoverished fishermen with single wives frequently have numerous children? The principle is simple—like seasoning soup, the right amount of salt creates flavor, but excess makes it unpalatable. Those desiring progeny should practice moderation in desires; otherwise, it's like trying to extract oil from withered pines or juice from dried bamboo. The Classic of Filial Piety states that continuing the bloodline is the greatest filial duty—aspiring parents must understand this truth.

The text then employs heaven-earth imagery for male-female relations: heaven's rain (male essence) universally nourishes, but earth (female constitution) varies in fertility. Barren, saline soil cannot grow crops despite abundant watering. It cites the Eastern Han anecdote of Ma Le, who worried his descendants would inherit his short stature and deliberately sought a tall wife for his son, successfully producing taller offspring.

Criticism follows regarding Jiangnan scholars' obsession with youthful beauty, specifically selecting immature girls as concubines, resulting in sickly or short-lived children. More severe is conception during drunkenness when consciousness is clouded—such offspring lack intelligence.

The Chu Shi Yi Shu records exceptional cases: balanced yin-yang may produce intersex individuals; dispersed essence-blood may form twins. Congenital anomalies like imperforate anus or birth canal, which Xu Xun's Tai Yu Gan Hua Lun attributes to parents coupling while urgently needing to relieve themselves. Another rare condition—albinism—was folklorically linked to conception during She Ri (earth god festivals), but actually stems from conception during menstruation when excess uterine blood affects fetal development.

These observations integrate traditional Chinese medicine, Daoist yin-yang theory, and ancient eugenic concepts. While some explanations diverge from modern medicine, they demonstrate meticulous classical observation of reproductive phenomena.

This passage explains the causes of graying hair and blurred vision in traditional medical terms. Physician Chu of ancient times observed that when blood fully nourishes the skin and muscles, the complexion appears fair. Hair turns gray because it grows from the surplus Qi (vital energy) of blood—a concept in Chinese medicine that views hair as nourished by blood's residual energy. The Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon similarly states that normal eyesight depends on the liver receiving adequate blood supply.

During menstruation ("when monthly water flows"), women experience significant blood loss, leading to liver deficiency ("liver vacuity"). This creates two consequences: first, hair loses its blood nourishment and turns white; second, eyes become deprived of liver-blood nourishment, resulting in blurred vision ("hazy vision" describes this unfocused state). The term "visual essence" mentioned here refers precisely to the eye's capacity for sight.

The theory of nurturing life originates with Laozi, the founder of Daoism. The book Laozi wrote is called the Dao De Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue). During his time, there was a disciple named Cheng Ben, with whom Confucius once engaged in deep conversation. Cheng Ben authored the Zihuazi. Other students of Laozi included Wenzi and Yin Xi, the guardian of Hangu Pass. Wenzi wrote the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Authentic Scripture of Pervading Mystery), while Yin Xi composed the Guan Yinzi.

Later works include Liezi's Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing (Authentic Scripture of the Ultimate Virtue of Empty Nothingness) and Zhuangzi's Nanhua Zhenjing (Authentic Scripture of Southern Florescence), both inheriting Laozi's philosophy. These scriptures received their canonical titles by imperial decree from Emperor Huizong of the Song dynasty. Throughout history, numerous commentaries have been written on Laozi: Heshang Gong in the Han dynasty, Wang Bi in the Wei dynasty, the Daoist priest Ye Fashan in the Tang dynasty, and Su Zhe and Wang Pang in the Song dynasty. Recently, the Laozi Yinxun by the You family of Wuxi proposed that in ancient versions, the character "wang" (king) originally read "da" (great), and "ren" (person) originally read "ji" (ultimate)—an interpretation with considerable merit. The doctrines of Zihuazi are partially quoted in the Lingshu Jing (Divine Pivot Classic).

Wenzi's work includes annotations by Mo Xizi. The opening line of Wenzi states, "What is not the true Dao cannot be spoken; what cannot be spoken is the Dao," perfectly aligning with Laozi's famous opening: "The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao."

Guan Yinzi has commentaries by Chen Baoyi, Liezi by Zhang Zhan, and Zhuangzi by Guo Xiang and Cheng Xuanying. More recently, Lin Xiyi compiled the Lao Lie Zhuang Sanzi Kouyi (Oral Teachings on Three Masters: Laozi, Liezi, and Zhuangzi). Liezi quotes the Huangdi Shu (Yellow Emperor's Book): "The valley spirit (referring to the Dao) never dies; this is the mysterious mother." I believe this phrase originates from the Huangdi Shu, and Laozi's words also derive from it. In essence, Zhuangzi expands upon the ideas found in Liezi.

Regarding the Huangdi Yinfu Jing (Yellow Emperor's Hidden Talisman Classic) and Huangdi Suwen (Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon), the Northern Song Confucian scholar Shao Yong argued they were actually Warring States period works falsely attributed to the Yellow Emperor. In my view, texts like the Jinbi Longhu Jing (Golden Blue Dragon-Tiger Classic) and Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Classic) likely date to the Wei-Jin period and were also spuriously ascribed to Laozi. The Yinfu Jing has been annotated by Li Quan, the Old Mother of Mount Li, Zhang Guo, Lian Gaojiao, Tang Chun of Jinling, Li Yunfeng, and Chu Huagu. Even Zhu Xi (styled Hui'an) composed a commentary, suggesting the text might have been authored by Tang dynasty's Li Quan, as it gained prominence through his advocacy.

This passage from Xi Shang Fu Tan primarily examines the historical context of the ancient Daoist classic Zhouyi Cantongqi (The Kinship of the Three) and its commentaries.

The text mentions Lü Bogong (a Southern Song Confucian scholar) agreeing with the view that Mayi Yi was authored by Dai Shi. Regarding Longhu Jing (Classic of the Dragon and Tiger), Zhu Xi (styled himself as Hui'an) believed it was composed as a summary of Cantongqi, citing the phrase "ancient records titled Dragon-Tiger" found in Cantongqi. The passage illustrates how Longhu Jing misinterpreted concepts like "the two functions lack yao positions" from Cantongqi, arguing its explanations deviate from the original meaning.

Cantongqi is an alchemical classic authored by Wei Boyang during the Eastern Han dynasty. Ge Hong pointed out that Wei Boyang employed the yao symbolism from Zhouyi (Book of Changes) to elucidate alchemical principles, yet later Confucian scholars—unfamiliar with Daoist immortality techniques—mistakenly interpreted it as commentary on Yin-Yang theory. Before the Jin dynasty, scholars like Yu Fan and Yin Changsheng had already composed commentaries on Cantongqi, though none survive today.

During the Five Dynasties period, Peng Xiao (styled Zhenyi Zi) authored Tongzhen Yi to annotate Cantongqi, but erroneously interpreted the original phrase "three correspondences" (referring to the Great Change [Yijing], Huang-Lao philosophy, and furnace-fire alchemy) as "five correspondences." The text further explains the hidden meaning behind the title "Cantongqi": "Can" (参) signifies "three," "tong" (同) means "correspondence," and "qi" (契) denotes "kinship." It then deciphers the cryptic significance of Wei Boyang's name through character analysis.

Finally, it lists important commentary editions throughout history: Peng Xiao's version exists in multiple editions like the Shu and Yuan versions, followed by annotations by Zhang Sui, Li Baosu, and others. Zhu Xi once pseudonymously annotated Cantongqi under the name "Zou Xin" (where "Zou" covertly references the Zhu surname) and authored Kaoyi (Textual Criticism).

Tao Hongjing (a renowned Daoist master of the Southern Dynasties) recorded in Zhengao (Declarations of the Perfected) many verses about celestial maidens descending to earth, though discerning readers would not take these accounts at face value. In truth, these were fabrications by Tao himself. Zhu Xi (style name Huian) pointed out that the concluding "Daoshou Chapter" of Zhengao was entirely plagiarized from the Buddhist Sutra of Forty-Two Sections.

The Tang dynasty produced numerous Daoist works: Wu Yun (style name Zhenjie)'s Xuangang Lun (Treatise on the Mysterious Pivot), Sima Chengzhen (style name Ziwei)'s Zuowang Lun (Treatise on Sitting in Oblivion), Wang Changyu's Yi Xuanzi, and Han Xiangzi (style name Xiaoyao)'s Neizhi Tongxuan Pian (Chapter on Internal Attainment of Mystery). In his preface, Sima Chengzhen quotes Tian Yinzi: "The essence of cultivating the Dao lies in secretly aligning with the true Qi of heaven and earth and moving in synchrony." He further states: "When one perceives external spiritual energy, one should circulate one's own Qi to harmonize with the cosmic breath." This represents an exceptionally profound cultivation method. Achieving this synchronization two or three times within a year will make one's body feel remarkably refreshed and comfortable. Persistent practice over time makes attaining immortality far from difficult.

The Huashu (Book of Transformations) was actually authored by Tan Qiao (style name Jingsheng). After presenting his manuscript to Qiu Qiu requesting a preface, Tan was murdered by Qiu, who then stole the work and published it under his own name.

Ruyao Jing (Mirror for Entering the Medicine) was composed by Cui Daifan of White Crane Mountain. Lü Dongbin referenced it in his poetry: "Through reading Master Cui's Mirror for Entering the Medicine, my mind becomes thoroughly illuminated." Later commentators like Xia Yunfeng, Chu Huagu, and Xiao Liaozhen all annotated this text. Its statement "Heaven responds to stars, earth responds to tides" fundamentally describes the ascending-descending movement of Yin-Yang energies. A literal interpretation would note that the Big Dipper shifts one celestial station monthly (among twelve stations), while ocean tides occur twice daily—how could these possibly correspond precisely? The phrase "exhausting Wu-Ji" (a Neidan term denoting Yin-Yang harmonization) was erroneously altered to "exhausting Wu-Gui," with "Gui" misinterpreted as menstrual blood (tiangui), just as Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality) distorted "sprouting" (a Neidan metaphor) into "menstrual emergence." These corruptions stemmed from practitioners of the Three Peaks sexual alchemy techniques seeking to validate their heterodox theories. Chu Huagu's "Wu-Gui transforms into Fire" doctrine and Li Yuxi's "Kun-Gui" theory were strained attempts to rectify these distortions.

Key Five Dynasties works include: Zhongli Quan's Jidao Zhixuan Sanshijiu Zhang (Thirty-Nine Chapters on Silent Dao Pointing to Mystery), Lü Dongbin's poetic works, Shi Jianwu's Jingzhong Yin (Verses in Stillness), San Zhu Ming (Inscription on Three Abidings), Xishan Huizhen Ji (Western Mountain Records of Gathering Truth), and Zhong Lü Chuandao Ji (Zhongli and Lü's Transmission of the Dao). Song dynasty contributions encompass Chen Tuan (style name Xiyi)'s Zhixuan Pian (Chapters Pointing to Mystery, containing eighty-one poems) and Liu Cao (style name Haichan)'s Huanjin Pian (Chapters on Returning to Gold, totaling fourteen sections).

This passage systematically examines the various scriptures and figures related to Daoist alchemy (Neidan practice), which can be understood through several key aspects:

First, it enumerates significant alchemical texts and their authors, such as Chen Chaoyuan's Jade Mushroom Poetry, Yang Xu's Treatise on Purity, Liu Xihe's Poems of Langranzi, the poetic works of Ning Xuanzi, Zhang Hongmeng's Chapters on Returning to the Origin, Jade Cauldron Perfected Being's Treatise on Awakening to Reality, Zhang Pingshu (Zhang Boduan)'s Awakening to Reality, and Xue Daoguang's Chapters on Restoring Life. Notably, Awakening to Reality and Chapters on Restoring Life exist in annotated versions.

The text mentions Zhang Junfang's compilation Seven Bamboo Tablets of the Cloudy Satchel, a massive Daoist encyclopedia that, despite its broad coverage, mixes in numerous talismanic spells and karmic retribution theories. In contrast, Zeng Zao (Daoist name Zhiyouzi)'s Pivot of the Dao specifically collects alchemical verses and poems from various schools, including Liu Haichan's Chapters on Returning to Gold and Chaoyuanzi's Jade Mushroom Chapters.

Next, it lists various hagiographical works, such as Liu Xiang's Biographies of Immortals, Ge Hong's Traditions of Divine Transcendents, and Shen Fen's Continued Biographies of Immortals. Though their content is eclectic, they preserve a wealth of names and titles of immortals across history. Many alchemical verses and poems are also attributed to ancient transcendents, such as Yin Changsheng (Lord Yin)'s Song of the Reverted Elixir, the Three Mao Perfected Lords' Song of the Great Dao, and Ge Xuan (Immortal Elder Ge)'s Song of Flowing Pearls. Many of these texts offer remarkably clear explanations.

Particular criticism is directed at Liu Xugu's Commentary on the Changes, which merely borrows the framework of the Zhouyi to package alchemical theories without genuine mastery of the Changes. This earned harsh rebukes from Zhu Xi (Zhu Hui'an).

Finally, the text mentions the numerous collected works of Bai Yuchan (the fifth patriarch of the Southern Lineage of Daoism) and the Collection of Immortals' Pearls and Jade compiled by his disciples. Among these, Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir and Shi Tai (Shi Xinglin)'s Chapters on Returning to the Source, though attributed to Zhang Ziyang (Zhang Boduan) and Shi Tai respectively, are judged by literary style to be pseudonymous works actually composed by Bai Yuchan.

This passage primarily discusses the literary transmission and alchemical theories of Bai Yuchan, the Southern School patriarch of Daoism during the Southern Song dynasty, along with his disciples.

The Cuixu Pian (Essays of Emerald Emptiness) attributed to Chen Niwan was actually Bai Yuchan's work. The opening poems borrowed verses from Yuan Yangzi, while later sections like Ziting Jing (Scripture of the Purple Court), Luofu Yin (Ode to Mount Luofu), and Guiyi Lü (Song of Returning to Unity) share identical stylistic features with Bai's Wuyi Ji (Wuyi Collection). Though Bai's letters to Chen Niwan and Zhang Ziyang contain some exaggerations, their depictions of natural imagery—such as "green mountains at dusk" and "moonlit emerald pools"—subtly allude to the profound principles of Yin-Yang ascension and descent in Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. Bai employed such veiled expressions to make these teachings more credible and accessible to contemporary practitioners.

Bai Yuchan transmitted his teachings to his disciple Peng Helin, who in turn passed them to Xiao Liaozhen. Xiao authored the Jindan Dacheng Ji (Compendium of Golden Elixir Mastery), where the cryptic phrase "seven sevens make forty-eight" reveals an alchemical secret: the "forty-eight" refers to three jin of mercury (with one jin equaling sixteen liang in ancient measure, totaling forty-eight liang), while the "one" signifies true lead—the key material in alchemy. This echoes the statement in Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality) that "one jin of medicinal ingredients requires two eights," hinting at the principle of Yin-Yang harmonization in alchemy. Xiao also created trigram diagrams, using the transformations of the Kan (Water) and Li (Fire) trigrams at different times to explain the dynamic and static rhythms of morning and evening cultivation.

Among Bai Yuchan's other disciples, Liao Chanhui wrote the Sancheng Neipian (Inner Chapters on the Three Vehicles), and Shen Baichan composed the Jindan Pian (Chapters on the Golden Elixir). Additionally, Xu Zhiwei's Xiantian Zhengzong Xiuzhen Mijue (Secret Instructions on the Orthodox Path of Innate Authenticity) documented a twelve-hour cultivation method, claiming it was transmitted to him by Peng Mengqu during the Chunxi era (1174–1189). Xiao Guanfu's Danxu Baojian (Precious Mirror of Alchemical Sequences) shared identical theoretical foundations with Xu's alchemical methods.

Another recluse, who styled himself "An Tu Nanzi," authored the Dayuan Pian (Chapters on Reaching the Source), for which Wei Xian wrote a preface in 1239 (the Jihai year of the Jiqing era). Chen Guan, known as Su Yangzi of Mount Lu, wrote the Zhengdao Pian (Chapters on the Correct Path), which received prefaces from Meng Jue and Liu Yuangang in 1242 (the second year of the Chunyou era). Together, these works form a vital lineage in the transmission of Southern Song Daoist Neidan theory.

This passage documents the circulation of texts from the Daoist Golden Elixir (Jindan) tradition during the Song-Yuan period, particularly works on internal alchemy (Neidan). Zhou Wusuo of Yongjia authored Direct Pointers to the Golden Elixir (Jindan Zhizhi), which received a postface by Yang Zizheng of Sichuan in 1254 and incorporated Neo-Confucian thought. Zhang Yongchang's Authentic Suchness and Ultimate Life Treatise (Zhenru Zhiming Pian) was published in 1198 by Huiyangzi Zhao Yanzui.

The alchemical verses of Huo Shanggu from Piling (modern Changzhou) contained hidden mysteries, as noted in a preface written by You Mushi in the seventh lunar month. Huo's son Huo Juchuan further composed Direct Pointers to Golden Elixir Formulas (Jindan Koujue Zhizhi), elucidating the correspondence between celestial timings (the Heavenly Stems Wu and Si) and the human body's Water (Kidney) and Fire (Heart) trigrams—manifested astronomically as sun-moon conjunctions and physiologically as the harmonization of inhalation (Yang) and exhalation (Yin).

The Master Dongyang's Treatise on Illuminating Authenticity (Dongyangzi Mingzhen Pian) by the author's fellow townsman Prefect Mi (sobriquet "Hermit Studio") was privately printed in 1257. From Yunjian (modern Songjiang, Shanghai) came Wang Kui's (sobriquet "Toad Valley Master") Penetrating the Numinous Treatise (Guanling Pian). Master Huagu Chu Yong not only annotated four classics—Yin Fu Jing, Zhouyi Cantong Qi, Yaojing, and Wuzhen Pian—but also compiled the Assembly of Three Realizations (Hui San Ji).

Feng Shoujing, a Daoist from Kuocang, authored the unpublished Treatise on the Orthodox Path (Zhengdao Pian). Both he and Wang Yi'an studied under Cao Mo'an. Li Jianyi of Yichun (sobriquet "Jade Stream Master") wrote Commentary on the Heart-Mirror Scripture (Xinyin Jingjie) and Essential Pointers to Awakening to Authenticity (Wuzhen Zhiyao). His Ten Diagrams of Regulation (Gui Shi Tu) was first published in Hunan by Peng Shi of Changsha, with later reprints in Jiangxi. Peng also recorded a secret method of breath regulation and seated meditation, whose concluding instruction—"after memorizing, immediately consign to fire" (referring to ritual burning)—was considered crucial, though Peng preserved it against protocol.

In 1298, fellow practitioners brought Zhao Guchan's Book on the Primordial Chaos of Inner Nature and Life (Xingming Hundun Shu) from Xiangtan. Though containing Chan Buddhist terminology, its expositions remained clear. Two summers later, Huyin presented The Even More Profound Golden Elixir Treatise (Jindan Youxuan Pian) attributed to Liang Jiuyang. According to its preface, this text originated from Wang Kedao (sobriquet "Mountain Guest"), the Zhenchangzi of Tiantai Mountain, who frequently exchanged poetic compositions with practitioners like Xia Yunfeng and Chen Liaokong, and authored the Anthology of Myriad Marvels' Meanings (Zhongmiao Yi Ji).

The Discussions at the Banquet records the works and deeds of numerous Daoist figures. In the Xinsi year of the Southern Song (1221), Grand Tutor Wen Ruxin once showed me this handwritten manuscript.

The text mentions that Xia Yuanding of Yongjia (Daoist name Yunfeng) wrote commentaries on three classics: the Yinfu Jing, the Yaojing, and the Wuzhen Pian, with Zhen Dexiu (style name Xishan) composing a preface. The Yulu Hermitage in Luzhou once printed the Four Books on Cultivating Perfection at Yangjiao Grotto-Heaven, which included: Han Xiaoyao's Inner Purport of Penetrating the Mysteries, Chen Liaokong's Returning to the One, Wang Daoche's Raising the One, and an unnamed alchemical adept's Attaining the One. These were prefaced by He Fengji of Sichuan in the Gengwu year of the Xianchun era (1270).

Chen Yu of Yangzhou (Daoist name Baoyizi) authored the Essay on Establishing Destiny, for which Bai Yuchan wrote a postface in the Gengyin year of the Shaoding era (1230). Chen also annotated the Guan Yinzi and the Zhouyi Cantong Qi, with a postface added by Prime Minister Dong Jutang.

In the preface to Hundred Questions on the Golden Elixir, the master Qiu Shan of Sanguzi mentions studying the Dao under the Elder of Jinhua around the beginning of the Qiandao era (c. 1165). The self-penned preface to Weiyuzi's Pointing to the True was written in the Gengyin year of Shaoding (1230) but bears no real name; likewise, his disciple's Clarifying the True also lacks attribution.

Regarding the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) tradition, the text documents Wang Chongyang's Quanzhen Ji, Ma Danyang's Subtle Words Collection and Gold and Jade Collection, Tan Changzhen's Water and Clouds Collection, Liu Changsheng's Immortal Music Collection, Qiu Chuji's Panxi Collection and Proclaiming the Dao Collection, Wang Yuyang's Numinous Light Collection, and Hao Guangning's Primordial Antiquity Collection. These were collectively published in the north as The Seven Perfected's Essential Instructions. In the Yanshan region, alchemical scriptures were frequently printed. In the Dade era's Jihai year (1299), someone gifted me the collected works of Ding Lingyang and requested that I write a preface for Ma Danyang's Recorded Sayings.

Finally, the discussion turns to figures like Huo Shanggu, Yuchangu, Chu Huagu, and Mi Dongyang. Some argue that while they understood the Dao, they failed to practice it, leaving behind mere empty talk. The author refutes this by citing a Liezi anecdote: In ancient times, a man who preached the Way of Immortality had his messenger executed for failing to deliver the teachings promptly, only relenting after admonishment. A man from Qi sought the art of immortality but despaired upon hearing its teacher had died. Master Fu laughed: "You wish to learn immortality, yet the teacher himself died—what could you possibly gain?" This illustrates that the truth of the Dao cannot be judged by the lifespan of its teachers.

This passage explores the relationship between theory and practice through several anecdotes. A man from the state of Wei mastered arithmetic and passed his techniques to his son on his deathbed. Though the son memorized them, he couldn't apply them, while others who followed the father's methods achieved the same effectiveness. This illustrates that knowing how to explain something doesn't equate to being able to do it—like someone who knows dragon meat is delicious but has never tasted it.

Zhu Xi (Huian) once told Cai Jitong that practitioners of Yinjun's alchemical methods (a form of Neidan/internal alchemy) were like those who fill themselves by eating pork. While we know far more about health preservation than just these methods, we still fall ill and age—again resembling those who talk of dragon meat without having tasted it. Forty years ago, when the author annotated the Cantongqi (a Daoist classic), he saw Lü Dongbin practicing the Eight Brocades (a form of Daoyin/guided exercise) to maintain health and initially found it laughable. Now he realizes that the theories in the Cantongqi are like the art of slaying dragons—less practical than the tangible benefits of exercises like the Eight Brocades.

The author admits that in his youth, he was frail and sickly, and his survival to this day owes much to the health-preserving methods in the Cantongqi. Yet he also notes that true cultivation of such arts requires abandoning family life. Because he had to care for his parents, he dared not defy natural bonds to pursue immortality. Still, during nighttime meditation, he glimpsed some of its profundity—far better than empty theorizing.

The latter half describes the author's life after the fall of the Song dynasty: no longer chasing fame, he retreated into quiet meditation, amusing himself with the qin (zither) and studying the Yijing (Book of Changes) and alchemical texts. These formed his four great passions—qin, the Yi, Neidan, and Waidan (external alchemy). Delving into qin tuning, he eventually composed musical settings for several poems. His studies of the Yijing culminated in the Dayi Huiyao, a compilation of various scholars' interpretations, primarily following Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi while incorporating other insightful views.

This passage recounts historical figures associated with alchemical practices.

Yu Yan (also known by his sobriquet "Decayed Scholar at the Feast") of the Southern Song Dynasty, after studying the Zhouyi (Book of Changes) in forty volumes, compiled the Tongxuan Guangjian Ji (Comprehensive Collection of Profound Insights), a hundred-volume anthology of Neidan (internal alchemy) verses and formulas collected from the Han to Tang dynasties. Later, he encountered an extraordinary master who transmitted to him the profound principles of innate wisdom, leading him to compose works such as Commentaries on the Zhouyi Cantongqi (Triple Concordance of the Book of Changes) and Extended Meanings of the Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality). Initially obsessed with Waidan (external alchemy, i.e., metallurgical elixir-making), he repeatedly attempted to refine cinnabar, arsenic, and mercury, only to fail each time. Eventually, he realized that the Cantongqi's statement "gold takes sand as its foundation" actually referred to Neidan cultivation. He then destroyed his alchemical equipment and wrote Luhuo Jianjie Lu (Admonitions Against Furnace Fire Alchemy) to warn future generations.

During the Later Zhou dynasty, Emperor Shizong summoned the hermit Chen Tuan of Mount Hua to inquire about alchemy. Chen Tuan replied, "Your Majesty reigns as the Son of Heaven—your duty lies in governing the empire. Why trouble yourself with such matters?" The emperor, persuaded, sent him back to the mountain and ordered local officials to regularly check on his well-being.

Under Emperor Zhenzong of the Song dynasty, He Lan Guizhen claimed to possess the art of "transmutation" (alchemy). When summoned by the emperor, however, he declared, "What I wish to speak of is the imperial art of transformation—using the Way of Yao and Shun to enlighten the world and bring about peace."

The merchant Wang Jie, while trading along the Yangtze and Huai rivers, encountered an extraordinary man who taught him alchemy, warning him, "Unless you meet a ruler, do not reveal this lightly." When Wang attempted to present his skills to the emperor, he was pursued by authorities, feigned madness, and was exiled as a criminal. Later, he escaped back to the capital and, through the eunuch Liu Chenggui's recommendation, demonstrated his alchemical techniques to the emperor, earning himself an official post. His method was shrouded in secrecy: working within a sealed furnace, he used iron to produce over a hundred taels of gold ingots at a time.

These stories reflect the ancient obsession with alchemy and its eventual reconsideration. They feature wise figures like Chen Tuan and He Lan Guizhen, who urged rulers to focus on governance, as well as opportunists like Wang Jie, who leveraged "alchemy" to attain wealth and status.

The Discourses at the Banquet records several alchemy-related anecdotes from the Song Dynasty:

During Emperor Zhenzong's reign, the imperial court divided cake-shaped gold into eight pieces called "crow-beak gold." The emperor ordered the Directorate for Imperial Manufactories to cast gold turtles and gold plaques from this gold. Each close minister received a gold turtle, while the rest were stored in the Jade Clarity Zhaoying Temple (an imperial Daoist temple). The gold plaques were bestowed upon regional governments. The golden treasure plaques at Tianqing Temple were also cast from this gold. At that time, refining realgar (a mineral commonly used in Daoist alchemy) required killing numerous snakes for their gallbladders. Later, when someone was constructing a residence, they unearthed a giant serpent with a head as large as a basket. The shock caused the man to fall ill and die at just fifty-five years old.

There was a sorcerer named Jie who initially kept his arcane arts secret. After receiving imperial stipends and rewards, he began using transmuted gold to aid the poor and make offerings to Buddhist and Daoist institutions. He donated gold to support state ceremonies and construction projects. According to the National History biography of Wang Zhongzheng and Zeng Gong's Collection of Eminent Ministers' Epitaphs, during the Xianping era (998-1003) of Zhenzong's reign, Jie encountered a mysterious man surnamed Zhao in Nankang Commandery (modern Jiangxi), and later met him again at Maoshan (a sacred Daoist mountain), where he was taught the method of refining gold from lead and mercury. The Guangling Chronicles records that Jie met a Daoist priest in Yangzhou and together they went to Wutong Temple to learn secret formulas for combining magical herbs. During the Dazhong Xiangfu period (1008-1016), he erected a stele at the temple expressing gratitude, which was later destroyed in war, though locals still preserve the "gold-burning herb" tradition.

When the eminent official Zhang Yong (styled Guaiya) served in Sichuan, a sorcerer claimed he could transmute mercury into silver. Zhang purchased a hundred taels of mercury for the experiment, which was successfully transmuted without discrepancy. Zhang immediately had craftsmen cast the silver into a large incense burner, inscribed its purpose, and sent it to Daci Temple as an offering, presenting the sorcerer only with a wine flask before severing ties.

Fan Zhongyan (courtesy name Xiwen) maintained close friendship with a certain Zhu. On his deathbed, Zhu revealed that a mysterious figure had taught him mercury-to-silver transmutation, but since his son was too young to inherit it, he bequeathed the formula to Fan. Fan reluctantly accepted but never opened it. When Zhu's son Zhu Cai grew up and passed the imperial examinations, Fan returned the completely unopened formula and alchemical instructions intact.

During his youth, Duke Hu Wengong (Hu Su, styled Wuping) befriended a Buddhist monk. On his deathbed, the monk told him: "I possess an arcane technique to transform tiles and stones into gold—if only you would bury me properly." Hu Su replied: "I shall certainly arrange your funeral with due care, but your secret art holds no appeal for me." The monk sighed in admiration: "Your aspirations know no bounds!"

Ju Shiying, a compiler at the Bureau of Military Affairs, had a father known as the Fourth Gentleman of Ju. In his youth, Ju encountered an extraordinary man who taught him the "Method of Subdued Cinnabar" (a Waidan alchemical technique). By mixing equal parts gold and mercury to form granules, then calcining them with subdued cinnabar, one could produce purple-polished gold (the finest quality). He never spoke of this to outsiders and rarely employed it. On his deathbed, he told his son: "I only revealed this gold-refining technique to Duke Han of Wei (Han Qi)—ordinarily I wouldn't have taught even someone of his eminent virtue. This art is destined for you, and in time another will instruct you further. Should people learn I possessed this method, they would demand it by force." He then described several false methods and recounted cautionary tales of those who suffered calamities through this art, admonishing his son repeatedly.

One of Ju's servants, after years tending the alchemical furnace, was ordained as a monk for his diligence and resided at Dingli Monastery in the capital. During Zeng Bu's (styled Zixuan) administration, a clerk in his office contracted consumption that imperial physicians couldn't cure. The monk examined him and said: "You need my divine elixir." A pinch of medicinal powder effected complete recovery. Astonished, Zeng Bu heard the clerk report: "This is the elixir of the Fourth Gentleman of Ju—it snatches men back from the very gates of hell." When summoned, the monk refused to attend, so Zeng Bu secretly provided him support. Later, the monk visited the chancellor's residence and surreptitiously presented some elixir. Overjoyed, Zeng Bu personally escorted him down the steps, where the monk tripped over a horse block during his bow, broke his leg, and died within days.

Yin Tun (styled Yanming, sobriquet Hejing) told his disciple Qi Kuan this account: Once when Cheng Yi (sobriquet Yichuan) traveled far, he lodged overnight at an ancient temple. Having prepared his bedding before the Buddha statue, he heard rustling before sleep. Investigating, he saw mice carrying paper in and out of a hole in the statue's abdomen. Cheng discovered scriptures hidden inside—a complete alchemical formula. Its opening line read: "Not for exchanging with worldly arts." With his photographic memory, Cheng grasped its profound principles instantly and made a transcription.

This passage recounts two stories about Daoist alchemical practices.

The first story tells of someone who stored a special elixir (Waidan, external alchemy) wrapped in paper. Later, while residing in the countryside, they attempted to refine this elixir, which required forty-nine days of fire cultivation. Around the thirtieth day, every evening strange lights would gather from all directions around the house, witnessed by all present. Fearing it might alarm people, they retrieved the elixir for testing. When millet grains were placed in a silver bowl, wherever the elixir touched turned to gold. By Emperor Huizong's Chongning era of the Song Dynasty, this silver bowl still existed, with golden spiral patterns marking where the elixir had made contact. The partially refined elixir was carefully wrapped and hidden in a clothing chest, deemed too extraordinary to speak of. Later, when someone privately asked Cheng Yi (Master Yichuan) about this, he explained it was Waidan practice - that if one cultivated Neidan (internal alchemy) and then consumed Waidan, it could prolong life, while metal transformation was trivial by comparison. When asked why he didn't consume it himself, Cheng Yi replied his stomach couldn't accommodate such things. In his later years, he promised to teach the formula to a Daoist priest but passed away before doing so. When the priest arrived a month later, it was too late.

The second story comes from Su Zhe's (Ziyou) Longchuan Luezhi. His brother Su Shi (Zizhan), while at Fufeng's Kaiyuan Temple enjoying ancient paintings, often visited alone to admire murals. An elderly monk invited Su Shi to his courtyard, saying: "I excel in medicinal arts and possess a formula to refine ordinary gold into pure gold using cinnabar. I've long sought someone worthy to transmit it to, and believe you suitable." Su Shi declined, saying he disliked such arts and wouldn't practice them even if taught. The monk replied: "This formula shouldn't be practiced lightly even when known. Precisely because you wouldn't use it, I should teach you." At that time, Chen Xiliang served as local magistrate, obsessed with alchemy, yet the monk refused his requests. When Su Shi asked why he was offered what others sought in vain, the monk explained: "It's not that I dislike Magistrate Chen, but fear he would certainly attempt it. Previously when I transmitted this formula, some recipients died, met misfortune, or lost office - thus I dare not teach recklessly." He then produced a scroll containing many secret formulas, including the gold refinement method, cautioning Su Shi to never teach it lightly, especially not to someone like Chen Xiliang, even if he chose not to practice it himself.

This account recounts a story about the transmission of alchemical knowledge. Su Shi (courtesy name Zizhan) once promised a Buddhist monk to keep secret a formula that could fuse cinnabar with gold without loss of material. Later, he inadvertently mentioned it to his friend Chen Zao (also called Chen Qing) and, unable to withstand repeated pleas, eventually disclosed the secret. Chen Zao used this method to produce gold in large quantities and purchase property, but ultimately died from festering sores on his fingers—fulfilling the monk's warning that the method "must not be lightly transmitted."

Twenty years later, Su Shi met the Sichuanese monk Yi Jie in Junzhou. Though this monk possessed gold-refining techniques similar to those of the monk from Fufeng's Kaiyuan Temple, he strictly observed monastic discipline and never sought personal gain, remaining unharmed throughout. The text also records warnings from two Daoist practitioners: A master from Xiandu Mountain pointed out that consuming external elixirs (Waidan) without first perfecting internal alchemy (Neidan) was like lighting a fire beneath dry hay—certain to consume oneself. Another Daoist from the household of Lord Zhang in Nanjing spent a year refining a golden elixir (Jindan) using purple-gold cinnabar, though Su Shi questioned its authenticity based on records from Ge Hong's Baopuzi.

Through contrasting the fates of Chen Zao and Yi Jie, the story reveals the core precept in Daoist transmission: "Virtue (De) outweighs technique." Terms like "cinnabar" and "golden elixir" frequently appearing in the text refer to materials used in Daoist external alchemy for crafting longevity elixirs, while "internal alchemy not yet perfected" points to the vital Daoist cultivation principle of refining one's nature before pursuing external elixirs.

The Talks Over a Banquet records several anecdotes about alchemical practices:

There was a method to verify the authenticity of an elixir: if one could squeeze it like clay through their fingers, it proved the elixir was successfully refined. My own elixir reached this state, confirming its completion. I once said to the Daoist adept Gongdaoxian: "I know my internal elixir (Neidan) has formed—this medicine can now be consumed. If not yet perfected, should I wait longer?" Gongdaoxian laughed and replied, "Would I ever need to wait?"

When Su Dongpo was 26 and serving as an official in Qishan, Shaanxi, an extraordinary monk forcibly taught him a method for metal transmutation. After learning it, Su sealed the formula away and later passed it to his younger brother Su Zhe (style name Yingbin), who also kept it hidden. Years later in Wuchang, when acquaintances learned of this and sought the formula, Su Zhe said, "My elder brother entrusted this to me long ago—let me search for it when time permits." After a prolonged delay, he summoned the seeker, produced the document Su Dongpo had sealed in Qishan—its original wrappings intact—unsealed it, glanced through, and asked, "Is this what you seek?" The man eagerly confirmed. Unexpectedly, Su Zhe threw the text into a furnace, declaring, "Poverty can be endured, but how could such acts be condoned?" The seeker fled in shame.

Master Zha of Suzhou possessed the method for refining saltpeter. Though the official Zhang Shengong maintained close ties with him, he never obtained the secret. Once, moved by compassion for an ailing monk, Zha fashioned a saltpeter bowl, instructing him to boil water in it daily. The monk recovered within a month. When Zhou Xuan inquired, the monk credited the bowl's water. Recognizing Zha's skill, the monk tested the bowl by heating mercury in it—confirming its alchemical properties when the mercury lost reactivity. Believing he'd found a treasure, the monk repeatedly thanked Zha and pleaded for the formula. Zha replied, "Secrets aren't lightly shared. Moreover, that bowl's potency is nearly spent—return it for replenishment." Upon receiving it, Zha shattered the bowl, re-smelted it, and cast the molten saltpeter into a river, saying, "I meant only to cure your illness, not feed your bottomless greed." The monk left in remorse.

When the Daoist Fang Ziming resided at Rui Prefecture's Shousheng Temple, Su Zhe (style name Luancheng) dedicated a poem to him: "Tenfold profit when quicksilver turns silver / Peerless the gold from cinnabar's surrender. / This man hoards his art behind sealed clay doors / Fearing celestial laws his craft might render." The verse critiques those who withhold alchemical knowledge.

Su Zhe (style name Ziyou) once wished to study alchemy and prepared a sealed chamber with a furnace ready for firing. Just as he was about to begin, he suddenly saw a large cat squatting on the furnace urinating—then it vanished in an instant. Su Zhe took this as a divine sign, believing that the arts of immortality were meant to aid the impoverished and could only be transmitted to the right person. Concluding he might not be the chosen one, he dared not attempt it again.

Zhang Yifang spent years attempting to refine the Golden Elixir (Jindan) without success. Later, when he fell gravely ill and neared death, he lamented his failure to complete the Ninefold Cyclically Transformed Elixir (the highest-grade Daoist elixir). He instructed his disciple to open the furnace, where they found a massive serpent coiled at the base, its mouth fiery red and scales multicolored, as if guarding the elixir. He took one pellet and swallowed it, only to become mute and die shortly after.

Su Dongpo wrote a poem: Though aged, my eyes remain sharp, but my hair is streaked with white and ailments plague me—so I deliberately brighten my study to write small characters and prepare a sealed chamber for alchemy. Huang Tingjian (style name Luzhi) annotated this, noting that Dongpo had written to Wang Dingguo mentioning his recent acquisition of peculiarly luminous cinnabar (Zhusha). Though he dared not ingest it, he used it to observe the transformations of firing stages as a pastime. Another poem referenced Liu Fuzi (likely Liu Yiweng) of Caonan, who possessed the esoteric alchemical text Hongbao Shu. Dongpo had sought his guidance on alchemy, hoping to share in the elixir. Zhao Ci’eng commented that this Liu Fuzi was indeed Liu Yiweng, and that Dongpo had written to him from Huizhou requesting pre-made elixirs.

Zhao Yaoqing added: Liu Anshi (style name Qizhi), a native of Caonan, was well-versed in life-nurturing and alchemical arts. Su Dongpo once studied under him.

Around the Bagong Mountains in Shouzhou, small gold cakes stamped with seal script characters were often unearthed from soil or stream banks. Legend held these to be the "medicinal gold" (refined through alchemy) of Liu An, Prince of Huainan. In the Bai River region of Xiangyang’s Chongling, gold shaped like persimmons—dubbed "persimmon gold"—was excavated. Ancient texts describe the "hoof-shaped and unicorn-toe gold" as medicinal gold crafted by Lou Jing, considered by alchemists the finest for compounding elixirs. The Book of Han annotations also note its distinction from ordinary gold.

In Wulei Xianggan Zhi, Su Dongpo recorded several herbs used in alchemy—such as processed sal ammoniac and orpiment—but omitted specific refining methods. The 78th scroll of the Avatamsaka Sutra mentions a medicinal liquid called "Hezhai Jia," which some have obtained.

A monk once mentioned a story about transforming one tael of copper into ten taels of genuine gold. I told him, "You'd have to ask the author of the Avatamsaka Sutra about that." The monk left with a smile. I once rubbed a small amount of chalcanthite (a mineral) on the tip of a knife, and the entire tip turned golden. It occurred to me that the "Hazhijia" mentioned in the Avatamsaka Sutra might refer to chalcanthite.

During the Zhiyuan Xinhai era of the Yuan Dynasty, when coins were being minted, I witnessed in Raozhou how copper-bearing spring water could transform iron into copper. Since Raozhou's spring water originates from copper mines, it can produce copper; likewise, Puzhou's spring water comes from gold mines, so it likely can turn copper and iron into gold. The "Hazhijia" mentioned in Buddhist scriptures is no longer recognized by people today, but the words of the Buddha surely do not deceive.

Could tiles, stones, sand, and earth all be transformed into gold? Books like Chun Zhu Ji Wen, Meng Xi Bi Tan, and Shu Yi Zhi all record instances of tiles and stones turning into gold. Tou Xia Lu claims ginger can become gold, Qing Yi Zhi says bracken can turn into gold, Shang Shu Gu Shi mentions bamboo leaves transforming into gold, and Kui Che Zhi asserts that tea leaves can become gold. Even Jiang Huai Yi Ren Lu records "grasping snow to make gold," Xuan Shi Zhi speaks of "urine turning into gold," and Shu Yi Zhi mentions "spittle becoming silver." Do such things truly exist? I say these are all illusions. What are illusions? They are nothing but absurd tricks.

Mi Ge Xian Tan records "iron nails turning into silver," Shen Xian Gan Yu Zhuan speaks of "raw iron becoming silver," Mao Ting Ke Hua mentions "copper coins transforming into silver," and Kun Shan Ji Lei writes of "lead turning into silver." Shao Kangjie (Shao Yong) once wrote in a poem, "Using lead and tin to create gold is ultimately false." I believe that lead, tin, copper, and iron are all metals—though turning them into gold may be illusory, their mutual transformation is at least plausible in principle. As for tiles, stones, sand, and earth, it’s doubtful they can become gold. And as for ginger, bracken, bamboo leaves, and tea leaves—utterly impossible. How could things like snow, spittle, and urine, which lack any solid form, possibly transform into gold or silver? It’s utterly preposterous.

Qing Yuan Zhuang Nian Zu Fang Wai Zhi records: A merchant named Sun from Sichuan was selling mercury in Chang'an. His porter stumbled on a mountain path, and the mercury jar shattered against a rock. In haste, he stuffed it with roadside grass to stop the leak. That night at the inn, they found the mercury inside had solidified. Sun realized it was due to the mystical herb and wanted to gather more. He hurried his servants to eat quickly and rushed back with his donkey to search for it along the original path.

The Xishang Futan records several tales about miraculous medicinal herbs:

The first recounts how a merchant from She County saw a snake with a swollen belly in the mountains. The snake bit a particular plant and rubbed its belly against it, causing the swelling to quickly subside. The merchant gathered this herb and later, at an inn, heard a man groaning from abdominal distension in the next room. He brewed the herb into a decoction for the man to drink. By dawn, however, the man's flesh and blood had dissolved into liquid, and the cooking pot had turned to gold. Terrified, the merchant fled and only dared to speak of the incident years later.

The second tale describes how monks at the Heshan Temple in Jizhou observed two snakes—one injured and the other bringing an herb to heal the wound, which quickly recovered. A young monk with a broken leg was treated with the same herb, only for his flesh and blood to vanish, leaving only withered bones, while the cooking pot also turned to gold. The monk tried to keep this secret of transmuting iron into gold, but when the local official Zhang Zhaozhou learned of it, he arrested and interrogated him. The monk refused to divulge the method even under torture and eventually died in prison.

The text also references Bowuzhi, which records how Liu De obtained the secret formulas of the Prince of Huainan, believed in alchemy (Waidan), but ultimately failed and was punished. Similarly, Taiping Guangji mentions a Taoist priest on Mount Taibai during the late Sui dynasty who practiced alchemy (Neidan). A disciple named Cheng Bi served him for over a decade before leaving due to family matters.

These stories all speak of wondrous herbs and alchemical arts existing in the world, yet they often lead to unforeseen consequences, hinting that such esoteric techniques are both perilous and difficult to control.

This passage recounts several legends related to alchemy (Waidan), all illustrating the disastrous consequences of greed.

The first story tells of a man named Bi. A Daoist priest gave him ten immortal elixirs (Xian Dan), each capable of transforming one pound of copper into gold. After using the gold to cover funeral expenses, Bi, driven by insatiable greed, returned to the mountains to demand more elixirs from the priest. When the priest refused, Bi resorted to violence, hacking off the priest’s limbs and ultimately beheading him. Later, he discovered a red pouch hidden in the priest’s right elbow containing more elixirs. With these, Bi produced vast amounts of gold, but his activities were reported to the authorities. Emperor Taizong of the Tang Dynasty summoned him to the palace to refine gold and initially rewarded him with a fifth-rank official title. However, once the elixirs were exhausted and Bi sought to leave, the emperor pressured him to reveal the formula. When Bi refused, he was executed by dismemberment.

The second story takes place in Chengdu. The proprietress of Willow Tavern suffered from a chronic illness until a Daoist priest, a regular patron, left several elixirs as payment for wine. After consuming them, she recovered completely. A temple official named Wang Daobin learned of this and obtained the remaining elixirs, using them to refine mercury into gold, which he presented to the King of Shu, falsely claiming it was gathered from Mount Sanxue (Three Studies Mountain). When the deception was uncovered, Wang was executed for deceiving the ruler.

The third story involves Liu Chan, an official from Mount Qingcheng (one of Daoism’s sacred origins), who was skilled in alchemy. One evening, three visitors arrived with food and wine, engaging him in conversation before demanding he teach them his methods. Though Liu initially refused, they persisted, even resorting to threats. Eventually, he realized they were not seekers of the Dao but bandits.

These tales serve as warnings: forcibly pursuing esoteric arts (Xian Shu) or coveting ill-gotten wealth inevitably invites calamity.

(Note: Huang Bai Shu refers to the Daoist alchemical art of transmuting base metals into gold and silver; Mount Sanxue is a renowned Daoist mountain; Mount Qingcheng is one of the birthplaces of Daoism.)

The Talks at the Banquet records several extraordinary anecdotes about Daoist arts and alchemical practices.

The first story tells of a man who threatened a magistrate couple with a knife, forcing them to transmit Daoist methods and demanding elixirs. After obtaining what he sought, the three bowed and departed. At dawn, the magistrate descended the mountain and never returned, later dwelling with the recluse Li Chen.

The second account describes how Master Fakong Wuxiang (youngest son of Imperial Attendant Shen of Zhachuan) discussed transmutation techniques with the monk Faquan on Jiaoshan Mountain. Faquan claimed to possess the art of turning copper into gold, taking several copper coins from his bag for Fakong to smelt. After the coins failed to melt all night, Faquan laughingly revealed they were actually creek sand (a mineral substance). Upon adding a small amount of white medicinal powder, the sand indeed melted into genuine gold. Faquan explained his reluctance to transmit this art freely stemmed from concerns that arousing greed in others might bring calamity upon them.

The third narrative provides greater detail: At twenty, Faquan joined two Daoist companions to study alchemy. On the fifteenth day of the seventh month in the first year of the Shaosheng era (1094), they vowed to travel separately for ten years before reuniting - absence would signify death. A decade later at Fengle Bridge, they shared their learnings. One had obtained "vertigo medicine" (an alchemical material) from Chengdu's herb market, discovering its power to transmute copper into gold during experiments. To verify its authenticity, they sold some at the capital's finest gold shop, receiving exceptionally high prices. While mass-producing gold at an inn near Xiangguo Temple, a drunken alchemical session accidentally caused a fire that killed one companion and severely burned another.

(These passages record several strange anecdotes related to Daoist priests, containing secret transmissions of Daoist alchemy and unexpected incidents.)

A prisoner who had received flogging died within days, yet his body showed no signs of injury. A prison guard revealed that when administering the beating, they used a special technique—placing a piece of paper on the prisoner's back before striking. The paper remained intact while the internal organs ruptured. This was called "hollow death." The guard later encountered retribution: while burning paper offerings at night, his clothes caught fire. Everyone else present was burned to death, but I alone remained conscious enough to break through the smoke and escape. Fearing pursuers might know I could swim, I plunged into the Bian River and drifted downstream, only coming ashore after passing the city gates. While in the water, I sincerely repented and swore to heaven to become a monk, vowing never to commit evil again. Should I encounter great opportunities yet fail to fulfill them, I would still report to heaven for arrangement, daring neither to conceal anything nor casually transmit secrets to others. Hearing this, people dared not pressure me further, and later I departed without notice—none knew my whereabouts.

Han Zicang (a Song Dynasty official) told of a Daoist from Mount Qingcheng: The priest sent a young attendant to buy wine for guests, but the boy stopped at a toilet on the way, hanging the iron wine bottle on a tree. The heavy bottle made the slender branch sway in the wind, and where the leaves rubbed against the vessel, those spots turned to gold. Thus people discovered trees capable of transmuting gold, and the Daoist never lacked funds during his travels. In old age, he resided at Tianqing Temple in Huazhou. Decades of illness kept him indoors, yet he found no suitable successor despite searching. Secretly observing an elderly rice seller before the temple—who neither asked about harvests nor sought more than a single coin's profit yearly—he deemed the man upright enough for secret transmission. One day, he invited the old man to a tavern and proposed teaching gold-transmutation, only to hear: "I've long known this skill." The Daoist arranged a demonstration the next day at the temple. When the old man arrived, they closed the doors to refine elixirs. A neighboring priest, hearing noises, peeped through a chiseled wall hole and saw them smelting with fire—when poured out, the liquid became pure gold as they marveled together. The spy suddenly burst in; during the frantic scramble to collect the gold, both were crushed to death in the chaos, and other priests were implicated and imprisoned.

He Yuan (a Song literatus) noted that seven or eight out of ten scholars and recluses enjoyed discussing alchemy, unaware these were merely primers (dantou) for immortality elixirs. Since the Three Mao Perfected Lords (founders of the Maoshan tradition) used dantou during a famine in Danyang—transmuting silver to gold and iron to silver for relief—later generations termed copper-transmutation with forged powder as "Danyang method," and arsenic-based copper transmutation as "Mao-pointing." Similar cases included figures like Wang Yang and Lou Jing of Han Dynasty, Cheng Bi of Tang, and recent practitioners like Wang Jie (all legendary transmutation masters)...

The world is not devoid of alchemical arts like metallurgy, yet those who truly master them are as rare as turtle fur or rabbit horns, while those who bring calamity upon themselves by pursuing them are ten to one. Great scholars like Su Dongpo (Su Shi) and Yang Yuansu (Yang Hui), though they secretly learned the oral formulas, wisely refrained from practicing them. On the other hand, figures like Zhang Dun (styled Shen Gong) and Huang Lü (who rose to high office) squandered fortunes in lifelong searches for the true method, yet never encountered it.

When Xiahou Jiazheng served in the Hanlin Academy, he was obsessed with the art of refining silver, often saying, "If only I could see mercury transform into silver—even just a single qian’s worth—my life would be fulfilled." Yet he died without ever achieving his wish. During the Shaoxing era of the Southern Song, a Daoist by the Huai River begged for alms while holding an iron ox, calling himself the "Iron Ox Daoist." He stayed in Fuguang County for several months until one day he suddenly went to the pawnshop of a wealthy family to ask for money. When the shopkeeper asked what use the iron ox had, the Daoist claimed it could "excrete golden melon seeds." The rich man wanted to buy it at a high price, but the Daoist adamantly refused, only agreeing to rent it for a single night. The next day, sure enough, a few golden melon seeds were found in a sealed room. After the Daoist took back the ox, the rich man’s greed flared up, and he chased after him to buy it. Reluctantly, the Daoist agreed to sell it for a price calculated based on a year’s worth of daily gold production. But after a few days at home, the ox stopped producing gold. Upon closer inspection, they discovered a small hole in its tail—it turned out a maidservant had suddenly fallen ill and was ransomed by her husband. Tracking her down revealed she had been planted by the Daoist beforehand. The gold produced earlier had all been secretly placed by this woman, and once the scheme succeeded, they fled with the money. (From Zhao Guanyuan’s Record of Sunlit Days.)

A satirical poem mocked: "In tattered robes, he boasted everywhere of refining silver—if he truly had the skill, why beg for food?" Xu Qing recorded this incident in A Record of Navigating the World to warn his youngest son: those obsessed with alchemy in this world are always exploited by swindlers—you must be vigilant.