Chapter 54: Luoyang in Festive Bustle

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His friend set down his wine cup and studied Wang Wei.

He could detect nothing amiss.

Lord Pei said in surprise, “Shouldn’t you be asking about arhats? How did you come to be pondering immortals?”

Wang Wei spoke with studied lightness.

“Just asking.”

Pei Di stared at him, sensing that something was wrong. He leaned forward a little. “What exactly did that fellow Lu write to leave you so utterly preoccupied?”

“You even made a special trip to Xiangyang—hurried there, hurried back—and ever since your return, you have looked as though you have lost all appetite and forgotten food.”

“Mojie, what secret is there that I cannot know?”

There was a certain suggestiveness in that final question.

Wang Wei did not answer.

Instead, he asked, “Have you read Taibai’s poem? What do you think of it?”

During this time, Li Bai’s poem had traveled by boat from the Han River to the Luo River, and from Xiangyang to Luoyang. Quite a number of people had heard it.

Wang Wei had hurried back from Xiangyang and attended several banquets. He had listened to songs and dances from the pavilions—and had even heard the poem being sung.

“‘A Night Tour, a Revel with Ghosts and Gods, Drunk and Hearing the Wondrous Way’?” Pei Di asked.

“That is the one.”

“It is well written. Elegant and gifted, with something of the air of an immortal.”

As he spoke, Pei Di suddenly felt his heart skip. He lifted his wine cup, took a sip, and studied Wang Wei carefully before saying slowly, “You don’t actually believe it, do you?”

“How could I?”

Pei Di was unconvinced. “If you don’t, why ask me about it?”

He continued, “A poem written in drunkenness contains not a single true word. Only the spirit of it is true. Don’t read too much into it.”

Wang Wei nodded. “Naturally, I know that.”

Seeing him return to his usual composure, Pei Di shifted back into his seat. He drank a little more wine, now and then sampled a dish, and listened with pleasure to the strings and bamboo instruments drifting down from the pavilion. Through the gauze curtains, he could still see the sword dance. Lady Gongsun was incomparable at it, and Pei Di watched with keen interest.

From time to time, he exchanged a few words with acquaintances.

Many people wanted to learn about Wang Wei through Pei Di.

Wang Wei’s reputation in Luoyang was now considerable.

Though he had been demoted and had subsequently resigned his office, the fact that such figures as the Prince of Qi valued him and were willing to associate with him made him exceptional in the eyes of the world.

Five years earlier, he had met Li Guinian at a banquet hosted by Princess Yuzhen. Later, he had written:

“Red beans grow in the southern land...
This is the thing that best expresses longing.”

The poem had been set to music, and people everywhere sang it. Thus Wang Mojie’s fame had spread far and wide.

During the days Wang Wei had been away from Luoyang, he accepted perhaps two or three invitations out of ten. Many people had come over hoping to inquire about him.

Pei Di had just dismissed two such visitors. He lifted his wine cup, breathed in the cool night air, fragrant with flowers and hazy with auspicious incense, and listened contentedly to the sheng and xiao drifting from the pavilion.

Then he heard Wang Wei speak beside him.

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“What if the encounter with an immortal was real?”

“...What?”

This time, Pei Di turned to look at him in earnest. Recalling the letter and examining it in his mind, he realized that Wang Wei had begun acting strangely only after it arrived. He asked, “What did Lu Xiang write in his letter?”

Wang Wei considered for a moment, then answered without concealment. “Lu had a friend named Meng Haoran, who experienced a great dream firsthand. In the dream, more than forty years passed...”

“I have had a dream like that too.”

Wang Wei continued, “...and even seven days after waking, every detail of the dream remained vivid.”

Lord Pei raised an eyebrow.

“Could someone live for seven days without eating or even drinking water?”

“That is precisely the profundity of an immortal’s arts.”

Pei Di thought carefully. “So that was why you went to Xiangyang? Seeing you so absent and dispirited these past days, could it be that you found nothing?”

Wang Wei said nothing.

He lowered his head and drank his wine, listening to the singing and dancing while Pei Di pressed him with one curious question after another. He did not utter a word.

Seeing him like that, Lord Pei could not help laughing. He lifted his cup, drank twice to moisten his throat, and said merrily, “Enough. Failing to meet an immortal is hardly strange. Even the First Emperor of Qin never managed it.”

“In a few days, Lady Gongsun will perform another sword dance. That should count as something worthy of the heavens.”

“Will you come with me?”

After a long silence, Wang Wei nodded.

...

...

The carriage traveled for another two days. On the evening of the third day, they arrived at Luoyang.

Luoyang contained one hundred and nine wards. The Luo River ran through the city, dividing it into northern and southern districts. At this time, the city held a million people, with the whole realm converging upon the Eastern Capital.

Jiang She stepped down from the carriage and found himself surrounded by splendor.

The evening light had turned dim and golden. The sunset clouds in the sky were especially tender, and the leaves on the trees reflected their glow, dyed a brilliant gold.

A caravan of foreign merchants was waiting ahead of them to enter the city.

Camels bore crates of merchandise. The merchants had curly hair and thick, coiled beards, with silver belts of linked ornaments fastened around their waists, giving them an unmistakably exotic air. Many of the commoners waiting in line glanced at them only once before continuing their conversations, as if such a sight were perfectly ordinary.

Jiang She looked at them and thought that this truly was a great metropolis.

The soldiers guarding the gate wore iron armor and carried swords at their belts. They stood with imposing dignity.

One by one, they inspected those entering the city, checking for concealed bronze or iron and for privately carried salt.

When Jiang She reached the front, he handed over his travel pass.

The soldier glanced at the carriage behind him. “Are you traveling merchants?”

“We have come wandering through the world and intend to rest our feet in Luoyang.”

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The soldier examined him. The man possessed an extraordinary bearing, and the people behind him clearly were not to be trifled with, though the soldier could not tell what sort of people they were. His gaze lingered on the cat in Jiang She’s arms.

Wandering travelers who brought a cat with them?

He found it puzzling.

Since they were not merchants, there was no need to charge them any additional fees. The soldier felt a brief pang of disappointment.

Then he waved them through.

Once inside the city gate, Yuan Danqiu led the horse. For most of the journey, he had been responsible for the horses and carriage.

Li Bai had originally brought two servants with him. But after being frightened out of their wits by the ghosts, the two men decided that, however accomplished their master might be in the Daoist arts, following him would likely bring them nothing but hardship. The master might remain unharmed, but servants could not count on such luck. They would be better off living as ordinary men, at least spared the sight of those terrifying ghosts.

Li Bai had therefore sent them back to find Master Meng.

Jiang She and the Old Deer Mountain God walked side by side along the road.

Jiang She said teasingly, “Mountain God, this escort of yours has gone on rather a long way.”

The Old Deer Mountain God stroked his white beard and could not help laughing. In his slow, measured voice, he replied, “Then this little god shall escort you a little farther. Just a little farther.”

Li Bai waited two steps behind them. His experience of travel was extensive, and he said to Jiang She, “We should first rent a courtyard. Staying at an inn is always uncomfortable, and it makes it difficult to put our baggage in order.”

“We need to find an intermediary.”

“Agreed.”

Along the road stood wine shops, teahouses, silk merchants, apothecaries, and ironmongers in endless rows. Street vendors cried out their wares. The wards were full of food stalls selling flatbread, steamed cakes, mutton soup, and candied fruit—everything one could desire, with enticing aromas drifting through the air.

Here and there, they saw scholars traveling in groups, dressed in Confucian robes. Summer had arrived, and the heat was oppressive, so all wore gauze caps upon their heads.

There were also performers and acrobats staging the Western Regions act known as “swallowing swords and spitting fire.”

The spectacle drew crowds, who watched in astonishment.

This was Luoyang.

The Old Deer Mountain God had spent most of his life deep in the mountains and forests and seldom encountered such human bustle. He looked this way and that.

To other people, he appeared to be nothing more than a trembling old man of great age, and they made way for him.

Jiang She looked around as well. Unlike the others, however, he felt a deeper appreciation of the scene. It reminded him of seeing a scroll of river-and-city life for the first time—only this was taking place several centuries earlier.

He watched with great interest.

Beneath the fading light, street vendors shouted and hawked their wares, lifting jars and selling wine or broth. Students dismissed from their lessons returned home in twos and threes. Passersby gathered around the acrobats, exclaiming again and again in amazement. The camel caravans of foreign merchants moved along while their owners chatted about trade, silver ornaments chiming against their bodies.

The streets were loud and bustling, steeped in the mortal world.

Who could know that immortals might be hidden within it?