The Taoist of Lao Mountain

T here was a young man named Wang, seventh among his brothers, the son of an old established family. From boyhood he had been drawn to the Way, and when he heard that Lao Mountain was thick with immortals, he shouldered his book-box and set off. In the district there was a man named Wang, seventh in birth order, the son of an old established house. In his youth he admired the Way, and hearing that Lao Mountain had many immortals, he shouldered his book-box and went there to wander and study.

He climbed to a summit and found a temple, hushed and remote. A Daoist sat on a rush mat there, white hair spilling past his collar, a clear and lofty light about him. Wang bowed and began to talk, and the old man's understanding ran deep and strange. Wang asked to take him as his master. He climbed to a peak, where there was a temple, very secluded. A Daoist sat on a rush mat, his white hair flowing over his collar, with a clear and lofty radiance in his bearing. Wang bowed and spoke with him; the man's principles were very profound and subtle. Wang asked to take him as master.

"I am afraid you are too soft and lazy to do hard work," the Daoist said. Wang swore he could. The master had many disciples, and at dusk they all gathered in; Wang bowed his head with the rest and was kept on at the temple. Before dawn the Daoist called him, handed him an axe, and sent him out with the others to cut firewood. Wang took it dutifully. The Daoist said, "I fear you are too delicate and idle to endure hardship." Wang answered that he could. His disciples were very many; at dusk they all assembled, and Wang made obeisance together with them, and so was kept in the temple. Before dawn the Daoist summoned Wang, gave him an axe, and sent him to gather firewood with the others. Wang respectfully obeyed.

“He wanted the power, not the years it was made of.”

A month and more went by. His hands and feet grew thick with calluses, and the labor became more than he could stand. In secret he began to think of going home. One evening he came back to find two guests drinking with the master. The sun was down and no lamps had been lit, so the Daoist cut paper into the shape of a mirror and stuck it on the wall. In a moment it shone like the moon, filling the room, bright enough to show the down on a hair. The disciples crowded round, running back and forth to wait on them. After a month or so, his hands and feet were thickly callused; he could not bear the hardship, and secretly resolved to return home. One evening he came back and saw two men drinking with the master. The sun had already set and there were as yet no lamps or candles. The master then cut paper into the shape of a mirror and pasted it on the wall. In a moment, moonlight brightened the room, its radiance lighting up the finest hair-tips. The disciples stood round in attendance, hurrying to and fro.

One guest said, "On a fine night like this, such pleasure should be shared." He took a wine-pot from the table and poured for all the disciples, telling them to drink themselves drunk. Wang thought to himself: one pot of wine, seven or eight of us — how could it go round? So everyone hunted up his own bowl and cup and drank in a race, each afraid the pot would run dry. Yet however many times they dipped and poured, it did not lessen at all. Wang marveled. One guest said, "On so fine a night, such delight should not go unshared." He took the wine-pot from the table and bestowed it among the disciples, urging them all to drink to the full. Wang thought to himself: with seven or eight men, how could a single pot of wine supply them all? So each sought out his own bowl and cup and vied in drinking, each fearing only that the pot would empty first. Yet pour and dip as they would, it did not diminish in the least. Wang marveled at it in his heart.

Then the other guest said, "You have given us the gift of moonlight, yet here we drink in silence. Why not call Chang'e to join us?" He threw a chopstick into the moon, and a beautiful woman stepped out of the light. At first she was less than a foot tall; once on the ground she stood like any person. Slender-waisted, graceful-necked, she danced the Rainbow Skirt, then sang: "Oh, immortals — will you come home to me? You have left me lonely in the cold wide palace." Her voice was clear and ringing, sharp as a flute. When the song ended she spun, leapt up onto the table — and in the moment they blinked, she was a chopstick again. The three men laughed aloud. Presently the other guest said, "We have been granted the gift of moonlight, yet we drink so quietly. Why not call Chang'e to come?" He then threw a chopstick into the moon, and a beautiful woman emerged from within the light. At first she was not a foot high; on reaching the ground she was the size of a person. With slender waist and graceful neck, she danced gracefully the Rainbow-Skirt dance. Then she sang: "Oh immortals — will you return? You have hidden me away in the cold and vast palace." Her voice was clear and ringing, piercing as pipes and flutes. When the song was done, she circled and rose, sprang up onto the table, and in a startled glance had become a chopstick again. The three men laughed greatly.

Then a guest said, "Tonight has been the height of pleasure, but I can hold no more wine. Will you see me off in the Moon Palace?" The three moved their seats and drifted slowly into the moon. The disciples watched them sitting up there drinking, beards and brows all plain to see, like reflections in a mirror. After a while the moon dimmed; a disciple brought a candle, and there sat the Daoist alone — the guests had vanished. The dishes and fruit were still on the table, and on the wall the paper moon, round as a mirror, was only paper. Then one guest said, "Tonight has been the greatest joy, but I cannot bear more wine. Will you give me a parting cup in the Moon Palace?" The three moved their mat and gradually entered into the moon. Everyone watched the three sitting and drinking within the moon, their beards and eyebrows all visible, as a reflection within a mirror. After a time the moon dimmed; the disciples brought a lit candle, and the Daoist sat alone, the guests gone without trace. The dishes and fruit remained on the table; and on the wall the paper moon, round as a mirror, was nothing more.

The Daoist asked them all, "Have you drunk your fill?" They said they had. "Then go to bed early. Don't be late for the wood and grass." The disciples agreed and withdrew. Privately Wang was delighted and full of admiration, and his thought of going home died away. The Daoist asked the company, "Have you drunk enough?" They said, "Enough." "If you have had enough, you should sleep early; do not delay the cutting of wood and grass." The disciples assented and withdrew. Wang, secretly delighted and admiring, let his thought of returning home subside.

But another month passed, and the hardship grew past bearing, while the Daoist taught him not a single art. Wang could wait no longer. He took his leave: "Your disciple traveled hundreds of miles to receive instruction from an immortal master. Even if I cannot get the art of long life, some small thing passed on would comfort the heart that came seeking. But two or three months have gone by, and it is only cut wood at dawn and home at dusk. At home, your disciple never knew such hardship." But another month passed, and the hardship became unbearable, while the Daoist still did not transmit to him a single art. His heart could not wait, and he took his leave, saying: "Your disciple came hundreds of miles to receive teaching from an immortal master. Though I cannot attain the art of long life, perhaps some small thing transmitted would console the heart that sought instruction. Now two or three months have passed, and it is no more than cutting wood early and returning at dusk. At home, your disciple never knew such hardship."

The Daoist laughed. "I told you you couldn't bear hard work, and so it has proved. Tomorrow morning I'll send you on your way." Wang said, "Your disciple has labored many days. Let the master grant me one small skill, so this journey was not for nothing." The Daoist asked what art he wanted. Wang said, "Wherever the master walks, no wall can stop him. Just that one method would be enough for me." The Daoist laughed and said, "I always said you could not endure hardship; now it has proved so. Tomorrow morning I shall send you off." Wang said, "Your disciple has labored many days. Let the master grant some small skill, so this coming was not in vain." The Daoist asked what art he sought. Wang said, "Every time I see where the master walks, walls cannot bar him. To get just this method would be enough."

The Daoist laughed and agreed. He taught Wang an incantation, had him recite it to the end, then cried, "Go through." Wang faced the wall and did not dare. "Try it," the Daoist said. So Wang put his head down and ran straight at the wall, and it let him through as if it were nothing. He turned and looked — he was on the far side. Overjoyed, he came back to thank the master. The Daoist said, "Keep yourself clean and disciplined when you get home, or it will not work." Then he gave Wang money for the road and sent him off. The Daoist laughed and consented. He then transmitted a spell-formula, had Wang recite it to the end, and called out, "Enter it." Wang faced the wall and did not dare to enter. The Daoist said again, "Try entering." Wang then went some steps back from the wall, ran, and entered it; reaching the wall, it was empty as though there were nothing. He looked back, and indeed he was outside the wall. Greatly delighted, he went in to thank the Daoist, who said, "When you return home you should keep yourself pure and disciplined; otherwise it will not work." He then helped him with travel funds and sent him home.

Home again, Wang boasted that he had met an immortal, and that now no wall on earth could stop him. His wife did not believe it. So Wang struck the pose just as he had been taught, stood a few feet back from the wall, and ran straight at it. His head met the solid wall, and down he went all at once. His wife helped him up and looked: on his forehead a lump had swelled, big as a goose egg. She jeered at him. Wang, mortified and furious, could only curse the old Daoist for his worthlessness, and leave it at that. Reaching home, he boasted that he had met an immortal, and that solid walls could not bar him. His wife did not believe it. Wang imitated his former action, stood some feet from the wall, ran, and entered — his head struck the hard wall, and abruptly he fell flat. His wife helped him up and looked: on his forehead a swelling had risen like a great egg. His wife mocked him. Wang, ashamed and enraged, cursed the old Daoist's worthlessness, and that was all.

The chronicler of the strange remarks: no one hears this tale without bursting out laughing — yet they do not know that men like Wang are far from rare in the world. There is many a coarse fellow who delights in the disease and dreads the cure, so that some flatterer who sucks the boil and licks the sore comes forward with arts of swagger and brute force to feed his appetite, telling him: hold to this, and you may go wherever you please and nothing will stand in your way. The first trial is never quite without small success, and so he decides the whole wide world can be dealt with the same way — and the matter cannot end until he strikes the hard wall and goes sprawling. The Historian of the Strange remarks: there is no one who hears this affair and does not laugh greatly — yet they do not know that those in the world who are like Wang are truly not few. Now there is some coarse fellow who delights in his ailment and dreads the remedy, and so there are those who suck the boil and lick the piles, who come forward with arts of asserting power and indulging violence to meet his wishes, deceiving him by saying: hold to this art, and from now on you may range freely with nothing to obstruct you. The first trial is never without some small effect, and so he concludes that the whole great world may be dealt with in this way — and the tendency does not stop until he strikes the hard wall and tumbles headlong.

勞山 The original Chinese · honored as an artifact

邑有王生,行七,故家子。少慕道,聞勞山多仙人,負笈往逰。

Opening lines, classical Chinese · Strange Tales 聊齋誌異 · Pu Songling