Chapter 53: Wang Wei Loses His Appetite
Overall, it amounted to no more than eight or nine thousand characters, spanning about seventy pages—slow to write but quick to read. The fish was still simmering in the pot, the millet was boiling, and the text had been roughly finished in one go.
The Old Deer Mountain Spirit sighed deeply.
“We have taken the wrong path.”
In recent days, Li Bai and Yuan Danqiu had encountered many wondrous tales of immortality, even journeying alongside mountain spirits and ghosts, believing that the cultivation of the Dao was filled with such marvels.
Along the way, there were mysterious beings, demons, banquets, and fine wine.
After finishing this particular volume, reading through the life of the venerable Jin Yuan master Zhou Ling, they realized that the proud and aloof heretical cultivator had initially been a disciple who wholeheartedly revered the Dao, forsaking worldly concerns.
Their hearts were inevitably stirred.
Li Bai recalled the withered bones in the hall.
A lifetime of cultivation, all pain and stubbornness faded away, ultimately scattered by the wind, becoming earth, nourishing the mountains, rivers, and grass.
The Old Deer Mountain Spirit, who had long preached to the strange beasts of the mountains, understood the difficulties of entering the Dao more deeply.
Seeing them somewhat lost in thought, he leaned back in his chair.
Smiling, he asked, “What are you pondering?”
Yuan Danqiu sighed.
He said, “I once heard Taibai speak of the fierce tiger’s discourse on life and death and admired it greatly, believing it to be sublime. The master also said such thoughts belonged to the highest order.”
“But now I see that Zhou Ling once viewed life and death with equal detachment, unable to understand why ordinary people lamented. After experiencing the deaths of close kin several times and reaching old age himself, he gradually realized the Dao’s harshness and the complexity of human affairs—and that he had already missed out on a lifetime.”
“Is that how it is for everyone?”
Beneath the lush shade of the trees, Jiang She leaned against the railing, listening to the Old Deer Mountain Spirit’s response.
The spirit considered carefully, not answering lightly, but with measured words.
“Most likely, yes.”
“Thus, the highest order is very difficult to attain.”
“Consider a child in his youth, delighted to climb trees and wade in rivers, fearless even in danger, unaware of peril.”
“A young scholar reads Sima Gong’s discourse on life and death—‘Everyone dies once; some deaths are as weighty as Mount Tai, others as light as a feather’—and sings the song of Xiang Ji at Gaixia, full of youthful spirit and grand ambition.”
“Gazing down upon all things, one sees them as restless as duckweed floating on the Yangtze and Han rivers.”
“As one grows older, one understands the hardships of the world, the allure of fame and wealth.”
“And then another kind of thought arises.”
Li Bai asked, “Is it then, when death draws near, that one feels the fear Zhou Ling spoke of—anxious and afraid?”
The Old Deer Mountain Spirit stroked his beard and nodded.
He said, “Mortals who live poorly and endure hardship may wish to die twenty years earlier. Those who live well want to continue enjoying life, so they seek alchemy and immortality, hoping to extend their lifespan.”
“But cultivators are different; after all, there are true methods to follow. Even if the path is cut off, they can prolong their lives by a few years.”
“If fortunate, they might even receive official appointments, becoming city gods or earth deities.”
“That is the kind you two young friends have seen these past two months.”
“Therefore, the great Dao is always hidden; many walk the lesser paths.”
“I myself cannot discern the span of one’s life,” the Old Deer Mountain Spirit said calmly. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be wandering here.”
Jiang She sat under the tree, listening to their conversation, unable to help but smile as he lifted his cup to drink.
He understood that the spirit was speaking with genuine honesty and composure.
To reach such insight was exceedingly rare.
Truly worthy of eight hundred years of cultivation.
The breeze swept through the courtyard, carrying the aroma of the fish and millet.
Zhang’s wife brought over a fragrant fish soup to invite the guests to eat, then went to the vegetable garden to pick some shepherd’s purse and chives, blanched them, and served them on a plate.
The staple was millet rice, known as “yellow beam rice,” a common dish in rural homes.
At the dining table, Zhang’s father asked the guests,
“Where do you plan to travel next?”
Jiang She replied, “First to Luoyang to rest for a while, then to Yanzhou to see Mount Tai.”
Zhang’s father exclaimed, “So far? The road is difficult; you must be careful. Where are you from originally?”
“I lived in Shu for a few years before.”
Zhang’s wife kept serving the guests more rice and suddenly remembered, saying, “I heard from the village chief and headman that the emperor will also go to Mount Tai this year. If we have any rare items, we should tell him so the chief can report it.”
The villagers didn’t understand what auspicious omens meant—they only knew rare things.
Jiang She smiled.
He asked, “Is this place close to Luoyang? Have any of you been there?”
“Are you asking for directions?” Zhang’s father said.
“Neither my family nor my wife’s have traveled that far, but the village chief’s son went to Luoyang once and talked about it for half a year.”
“He said the flowers there were beautiful, everywhere were merchant ships, and on the streets you could see nobles, even foreigners with green and blue eyes—truly frightening to behold.”
“When he went, it happened to be the emperor’s birthday. So many lanterns floated in the sky; our family has only seen that once, and he still talks about it.”
Jiang She listened attentively.
By the end, Zhang’s father and wife were racking their brains, recalling everything they knew.
Jiang She noticed this.
“Thank you,” he said.
Yuan Danqiu and Li Bai also expressed their thanks. They could tell this family had served their best meal to the guests.
Zhang’s wife raised her chopsticks hurriedly and said, “It’s nothing; we haven’t even finished the fish yet. It smells so good—we’ve never tasted anything like this before.”
The two children clamored about how delicious it was.
The cat purred softly, lowering its head to eat the meat.
The Old Deer Mountain Spirit smiled with narrowed eyes nearby.
After the meal, Jiang She and his companions took their leave.
Though the sun was still bright, it was already the hour of the rooster; in the countryside, another hour would mean bedtime.
Zhang’s family wanted to invite them to stay overnight, but looking at their humble rammed earth cottage, there was truly no room.
So they did not press the matter.
Not long after the guests departed, neighbors who had been listening to the lively chatter dispersed, and Old Lady Li came out, stopping Zhang’s wife at the doorway.
“Did you hear? The temple of the Fourth Young Master in the west collapsed!”
Zhang’s wife was startled. “When did that happen? I was planning to save some money to pay respects.”
Old Lady Li acted out the scene vividly, “You have no idea how terrifying it looked; bricks and tiles just fell down all at once… The Wang family in the village seems possessed—they keep shouting in pain!”
“Don’t they have money to see a doctor?”
“They did, but the doctors were hired elsewhere. He couldn’t get an appointment. I don’t know what happened, but after coming back from the temple, he kept crying out in pain. My little uncle went to see for himself, but he didn’t seem to have lost an arm or leg or anything like that.”
As they spoke, Zhang’s father and two children were in the courtyard, listening with keen ears.
The village children’s eyes sparkled.
Parents and neighbors discussed the sudden collapse of the Fourth Young Master’s temple.
He stood at the door, listening intently, unable to help but peek outside.
On the road, no trace of the immortals could be seen.
They had already gone far away.
What had happened today—the mysterious carriage that had been tucked away in a sleeve, the sudden appearance of the City God, the Daoist figure emerging from the statue, the terrifying skeleton, the golden altar tumbling from above, the temple collapsing without warning, the copper coin protecting the younger sister—
All deeply imprinted on the young boy’s mind.
So the immortals truly walk among mortals...
For many years afterward, he would recount the events of that day to the village’s children and grandchildren.
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Luoyang city.
The banquet was in full swing.
Wang Wei sipped his wine with little appetite, watching the singing and dancing from the pavilion below. The once delightful string and bamboo music now felt dull and tiresome.
A friend, holding a cup, looked over and asked,
“Why haven’t you touched your food all evening?”
“Have you eaten your fill already?”
Wang Wei found it hard to swallow, setting down his cup.
He looked at Pei Di and asked, “Have you heard stories of immortals?”
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