Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities

Ma Bin and Zhao Xichun

General Preface

Whenever ancient Chinese history is mentioned, images of dynastic successions, imperial genealogies, factional struggles within the court, wars among feudal lords, and diplomatic machinations naturally spring to mind, and so on and so forth. But are all these truly the true face of history, or truly the entirety of history?

No, clearly not.

What constitutes the true face of history, what constitutes the entirety of history, besides the earth-shaking exploits of emperors, generals, and ministers, and the rise and fall and transformations of nations and peoples, besides ever-changing political events, battlefield conquests with iron steeds and golden weapons, and the bloody storms of dynastic changes, there is also the secular life of the common people: birth, aging, sickness, and death; marriages and funerals; eating and sleeping; hunting, fishing, and gathering firewood; buying and selling; partings and reunions; sorrows and joys; anger and resentment.

We might even say that the fate of emperors, the succession of dynasties, and the wars among feudal lords merely constitute the surface phenomena of history, while the myriad facets of human life among the common people are the true connotations of history. Complete history should never be merely the history of emperors, generals, and ministers, or the history of politics and diplomacy; it should also include the history of the daily lives of ordinary people, the history of social customs and mindsets of the times, and so forth.

However, opening the voluminous Twenty-Five Histories, what comes rushing to our faces

is nothing more than a vast array of imperial genealogies, the biographies of generals and ministers, and chronicles of major events such as economics, criminal law, and literature, whereas records of social customs and the lives of the common people are sketchy and negligible.

By studying such official history, we can know the so-called “major historical events” like the back of our hand, but we know very little, or even nothing at all, about those “minor historical events.” We can recount in detail, as if enumerating our family treasures, the dynastic successions, the evolution of era names, and the changes in institutions across the ages, yet our understanding of the daily lives, thoughts, and emotions of the common people in past dynasties remains a blur, with no clue as to their true nature.

Moreover, even regarding imperial genealogies, the lives of generals and ministers, dynastic successions, and the conquests of feudal lords, the records in official history often both “over-praise the good” and “conceal the evil.” They tend to depict only those events that are dignified, epic and moving, or resentful and infuriating, recording only those deeds sufficient to punish evil and promote good, and to reflect on the past to understand the present. As for the voices, smiles, personalities, psychologies, and anecdotes of emperors, generals, and ministers, and the ugly inside stories, dirty dealings, and bloody tactics of politics and military affairs, official history often “embellishes for the respected and conceals for the virtuous”; or it touches upon them only briefly, “half-covering the face with a lute”; or it avoids the topic altogether, acting as if such things never happened.

Therefore, to understand and recognize the true face of history, and to grasp the entirety of history, we must and should look to documentary sources beyond official history.

Common sense and science tell us that documentary materials from successive dynasties—such as unofficial histories, miscellaneous writings, biji (notebook) fiction, dramas, poetry, legends, and tales—contain a history that is truer and more comprehensive than official history.

However, historical traces have undergone many vicissitudes, obscured by the clouds of time. Whether to our predecessors or to us descendants, ancient Chinese unofficial history remains a mysterious, wild, slumbering black earth waiting to be developed. To lift the veil shrouding this cloud-covered new continent, the only way is for us to get close to it, discover it, and cultivate it, allowing it to radiate anew with the brilliant light of national and traditional culture.

In order to allow people to understand the reality of history beyond official history from a broader perspective, to allow people to appreciate the richly colorful scenes of history, and to allow people to absorb the life essence of our ancient Chinese culture from a contemporary cultural perspective, we have specially compiled this set of the Essence of Ancient Chinese Unofficial History Series. We call it “unofficial history” because the series takes

The scope of source materials comprises unofficial histories, jottings, poetry and prose miscellanies, and legendary tales outside the orthodox histories (content from novels and dramas is generally excluded); it is called the “essence” because this series has subjected these documentary materials to a process of selection and refinement—discarding the dross and retaining the best.

Because the content of unofficial histories is extremely diverse and miscellaneous, and lacks systematic classification, retrieval and reading are very difficult for people. For convenience, we have distilled themes and organized them into categories, dividing the entire series into ten volumes, namely: Secrets of the Imperial Court: Curious Anecdotes of Emperors; Noble Blue Gowns: Elegant Pursuits of Literati; Roaring Proud Through the Rivers and Lakes: Warlords and Knights-Errant; Fair Beauties with Cruel Fates: Famous Courtesans and Performers; Delivering Souls: Shamans and Sorcerers; Carving Wind and Rain: Skilled Artisans and Craftsmen; Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities; Heaven’s Condemnation and Earth’s Destruction: Disasters and Anomalies; A Thousand Cloud Paths: Dream Interpretation; Creations of Mountains and Rivers: Treasures and Antiquarian Obsessions. The ten selected topics are all outstanding pieces rarely seen or heard in the “orthodox histories.” These curious tales and anecdotes are novel and interesting, vivid and lifelike, incomparable with ordinary historical stories. They hold blood and tears, benevolent wisdom, sinister schemes, comic humor, and the illumination of life… Through them, we can understand the essence of Chinese history and culture in a richer, more vivid, and more freshly perceptible way. Of course, the selection of these ten categories cannot possibly encompass the entirety of the essence of unofficial history; rather, they serve as guides and pilots, leading readers to appreciate that historical treasury of infinite fascination.

In order to be closer to real life and make the broad readership more receptive, we hope through these ten novel and distinctive selected topics, first, to embody an overall sense of history and spirit of the times, in keeping with the new cultural horizons and aesthetic appreciation of the general public (especially young people); second, in handling historical materials, to avoid excessive repetition as much as possible, and to make the presentation of content as distinctive, authentic, novel, and elegant as possible; third, to strive for the unity of historical value, interest, and readability as the writing principle—all compilations of unofficial historical materials adopt the form of vernacular Chinese, and while remaining basically faithful to the historical sources, appropriate artistic refinement has been applied, requiring literary grace, beauty, and interest, while strictly avoiding stiffness and aridity; fourth, in the process of organizing, selecting, refining, and compiling these unofficial historical materials, we have exercised doubled caution so as not to create misunderstandings such as “promoting superstition,” but rather to carry forward the essence of historical culture from the perspectives of dialectical materialism and historical materialism, so as to enhance the

ideological substance and positive significance of the series. In short, our wish is that readers, while gaining rich historical knowledge, will also experience improvement in their intellectual qualities and the pleasure of aesthetic enjoyment. This is precisely our aspiration.

Unofficial history is one of the precious historical and cultural heritages of our Chinese nation, and its value is self-evident. However, within the vast ocean of unofficial histories, there do exist many absurd, fantastical, and entirely fictitious elements, some of which are baseless tales of karmic retribution, hells, and the underworld. The existence of such content is, first, related to the low level of ancient science and culture and the limited understanding of people at the time; second, it reflects the moral concepts of good and evil and the curiosity-seeking psychology of people of that era. Therefore, when readers encounter such content, they should maintain a correct attitude, discarding the false and retaining the true, and absorbing what is worthy. Such is our aspiration, and we earnestly invite the broad readership

Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities

and experts to offer their generous corrections.

Guo Yingde 1994, at Beijing Normal University

Preface

Compared with the achievements in exploring the external world, humanity’s understanding of itself remains at a rather immature stage. With the aid of science and technology, we have already begun searching for other intelligent life that may exist in the universe, yet at the same time, researchers are still repeatedly debating the phenomenon of sleep that we experience day after day: is it simply a bad habit inherited from our ancestors, or is it an indispensable process of material and energy regeneration? If we are this ignorant about everyday human behavior, let alone our grasp of latent human potential. It is no exaggeration to say that on this dark continent of the human being, our intellect has not yet opened its eyes.

Up to now, regarding the excavation of latent human potential alone, Eastern metaphysics has played an irreplaceably driving role. Under the influence of various Eastern mystical philosophical systems, many people, regardless of their original purposes, have inadvertently made themselves subjects in the exploration of latent human potential. It is through this that people came to realize that, beyond one’s ordinary state, a person can achieve even more miraculous feats—that is, extraordinary abilities.

Although phenomena of extraordinary human abilities have a long history, the serious attention to them and their incorporation into the scope of scientific researchers’ studies—

…is just beginning in our country. After the end of the decade of turmoil, traditional Chinese qigong continued to grow in popularity among the people as a means of strengthening the body and improving health. At the same time, research into the medical and healthcare functions of qigong also rapidly unfolded. In 1981, the Medical Qigong Research Society of the All-China Association of Traditional Chinese Medicine was established; four years later, the State Commission for Restructuring the Economic System approved the establishment of the China Qigong Science Research Society. From 1979 to 1988, in a short span of 10 years, over 4,000 papers related to qigong were officially published, along with nearly a hundred monographs. Newly founded magazines included Qigong, Qigong and Science, Chinese Qigong, China Qigong, Massage and Daoyin, and Oriental Qigong, all of which promoted the popularization of qigong and the in-depth development of qigong research. Because qigong practice, upon reaching a certain stage, often induces extraordinary ability phenomena in some people—such as “clairvoyance,” “psychokinesis,” and so forth—the study of these phenomena inevitably became an important branch of qigong research, and it was given a specialized name: “Human Body Science Research.” These studies included the collection and verification of extraordinary ability cases, as well as the use of modern scientific instruments and equipment to observe various anomalous phenomena during extraordinary ability demonstrations, in order to obtain necessary data parameters. Relevant reports have already been published, and some demonstrations have even been brought to television screens. On the basis of these cases, a variety of theoretical explanations and hypotheses have emerged.

There is no need to hide the fact that from the very moment extraordinary ability phenomena first emerged in China, there has always been a significant divergence of views regarding their authenticity and value for scientific research. In a heated discussion surrounding extraordinary abilities in the early 1980s, some people, represented by the renowned Chinese scientist Qian Xuesen, affirmed the existence of extraordinary abilities. In his article “Natural Science, Noetic Science, and Human Potential” published in the 4th issue of Philosophical Researches in 1980, he stated: “Humans can, through regular and conscious exercise, use the nervous system to influence bodily functions—that is, refining qi—and gradually develop abilities not possessed by ordinary people who do not exercise, enabling them to circulate and emit qi,” and “qigong demonstrates that there are still abilities not recognized or utilized by ordinary people; this is human potential.” Others, represented by Yu Guangyuan, argued that extraordinary abilities were purely feudal superstition and a form of mysticism. In 1988, the Science and Technology Daily agency invited a delegation of six members from the United States’ “Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of Anomalous

Phenomena” to visit China; all six individuals were deniers of extraordinary abilities. They believed that “extraordinary human abilities are not a new phenomenon; they developed from ancient spiritualism and cannot be incorporated into the scientific community.” James Randi, a world-famous magician among the six, said at the time: “If anyone can perform a so-called extraordinary ability demonstration, we will provide a physical explanation for it, or perform a magic imitation. If we cannot do so, it will prove that extraordinary abilities truly exist in China.” After conducting investigations in Beijing, Xi’an, and Shanghai, this investigation committee declared that they had not found a single conclusive “anomalous phenomenon.” Although there was much discussion afterwards about the work of this investigation committee, it has always been considered strong evidence in the eyes of those who deny extraordinary abilities.

Regarding the phenomenon of extraordinary abilities, it is not yet time for a final verdict. One cannot summarily dismiss it all as the tricks of charlatans, nor can one hastily conduct a “theoretical summary” on a mixed mass of phenomena. An explanation full of holes and far-fetched rationalizations is often worse than no explanation at all, because it may make the facts even more blurred and more suspicious. A prudent approach is to limit this research to the scope of “phenomenology” [唯象学] proposed by Qian Xuesen. As for the so-called “phenomenology,” Qian Xuesen said: “It means knowing that it is so, but not yet knowing why it is so. Once we know why it is so based on the broad principles of the entire modern scientific system, it elevates to modern science. Phenomenological knowledge has the nature of pre-science, but phenomenological knowledge takes a step further than empirical knowledge; it is more systematic.” In short, phenomenological research involves the collection, screening, and systematic categorization of extraordinary ability phenomena. This is the only reliable and steady path that can avoid chaos.

In the panoramic view of the social life of ancient our country, extraordinary ability phenomena are an indispensable aspect; they have a very close relationship with politics, culture, medical arts, and other fields. The compilation of this book is precisely to give general readers a rough understanding of this aspect. To this end, we have selected and adapted chapters and sections involving extraordinary ability phenomena from the biji (note-form) fiction from the Han to the Qing dynasties. The authors of these biji fictions were mostly famous scholars and writers, such as Ban Gu of the Han dynasty, and of the Tang dynasty’s…

Duan Chengshi, Li Fang of the Song dynasty, Feng Menglong of the Ming dynasty, Wang Shizhen of the Qing dynasty, and others. Their accounts were generally based on what they saw and heard themselves; although exaggerations and embellishments were inevitable, it is hard to say they were entirely fabricated.

To facilitate reader reference, we have made a rough classification based on the extraordinary abilities described in the stories. “Anecdotes of Food and Drink” includes stories about fasting techniques and heavy drinking; “Wondrous Abilities and Extraordinary Endowments” generally covers the exceptional manifestations of ordinary human abilities, such as memory and mental arithmetic; “Peerless Martial Arts” contains content related to martial arts; “Miraculous Healing Arts” deals with medical skills; “Spiritual Wisdom and Divine Mechanisms” and “Teleportation” respectively involve the phenomena of prediction and psychokinesis. As for the two sections “Qigong and Yoga” and “Dream Verification and Ill-Fated Destinies,” their contents are clear at a glance from the titles and require no further explanation. Although what is compiled in this book is only a tiny fraction of the materials we have encountered, the types of extraordinary abilities covered are already quite comprehensive. Individual omissions were sometimes due to the original materials being too brief, and they had to be deleted for the sake of the overall readability of the book. It is necessary to remind readers that these unofficial historical materials labeled “extraordinary abilities” are merely literary works or miscellaneous essays by famous ancient scholars and writers. What they reflect are only relatively representative ancient “extraordinary” phenomena, and are by no means genuine research achievements regarding “extraordinary abilities.” Just let them enrich your leisure time after meals. In terms of the classification and arrangement of the Essence of Ancient Chinese Unofficial Histories series, this book is titled Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities also designed for the convenience of retrieval and reading. Furthermore, since the content of this book is an adaptation, we required that, while ensuring fidelity to the original text of the note-form fiction, appropriate selections, omissions, and polish be made to the structure and details of the stories. Because the original author’s name and book title are appended after each story, readers can easily look up the original text when necessary.

“There is no new thing under the sun.” Perhaps after reading this book, when returning to reality from a fantasy world, you will recall this famous quote from the Bible, because you will find that the extraordinary people and events publicized and played up in newspapers and magazines in recent years are nothing more than repetitions of ancient stories. What does this repetition indicate—

—is it the reality of extraordinary abilities or the permanence of a certain socio-psychological structure? The answer to this question is, I fear, beyond what the preface of this book can encompass. It awaits our acquisition of more precise knowledge regarding the phenomena of extraordinary abilities appearing in real society, which requires time, and also requires readers’ patience.

Ma Bin, Zhao Xichun March 1995, Beijing 5

96 K204.5 16

Contents

General Preface (1)

Preface (1)

Anecdotes of Food and Drink

• Swallowing Sunlight
• Abstaining from the Five Grains (1)
• Drinking Limitlessly Without Getting Drunk (4)
• The Fasting Female Daoist (7)
• The Divine Peach (11)
• Eating Stones (15)

Wondrous Abilities and Extraordinary Endowments

• The Divine Calculator (21)
• Photographic Memory (24)
• Dragon in the Water (27)
• The Art of Sleeplessness (30)
• Body Emitting Wondrous Fragrance (34)
• Rapid Travel (38)
• Gu Yuchuan (41)
• Ventriloquism (44)
• Drawing Portraits from Memory (47) (50) [illegible] [illegible] [illegible]

• Penetrating Gaze (55)
• Tactile Object Recognition (59)
• Whistling (62)
• Imperishable Dharmakaya (66)

Peerless Martial Arts

• Sharp Sword (71)
• Wall Dragon (74)
• Bai Taiguan and the Siblings (77)
• The Constable in Black (80)
• Contest of Skills (85)
• The Medical Knight-errant (88)
• The Magician Driving Away Flies (16)
• Kong Kong’er (94) 2 (97)
• Sword Transformation (100)
• The Swordswoman (103)

Spiritual Wisdom and Divine Mechanisms

• The Poor Physiognomist in the Capital (109)
• The Daoist’s Divine Physiognomy (112)
• The Divine Six Divination (115) (119)
• The Prophet (123)
• The Mad Monk (129)

Miraculous Healing Arts

• Raising the Leather Bag (137)
• The Divine Physician Who Could Summon Wind and Rain (141)

Table of Contents

[Previous Chapter]

• Blind Regain Sight (144)

• Withered Wood Renewed (148)

• The Doctor Who Shook the Tiger’s Bracelet (150)

• The Old Immortal (153)

• The Daoist in Xue-Colored Robes (157)

• The Flying Man (161)

• Iron Shirt (164)

• Jiao Xian (167)

• The Daoist Who Exhaled Breath More Than Two Zhang (171)

• Chen the Hooper (173)

• Borrowing a Coffin as a Carriage (176)

• HPP

• The Beggar Who Caught Snakes (180)

• 4411

The Art of Translocation

• Prince Shansha (185)
• Borrowing Objects (189)
• The Iron Abacus (193)
• The Wealthy Merchant (197)

Dream Verification and Ill Fate

• Same Exam Roster, Different Dreams (203)
• Wu Zhengzhi (205)
• Reality in Dreams (208)
• Tian Dun’an (212)

Anecdotes of Food and Drink

Inhaling Sunlight

Abstaining from the Five Grains

Bigu (abstention from grains) is a Daoist cultivation method rooted in “stillness.” Generally, through the practices of breathing, exhaling, inhaling, and circulating qi, one achieves a state of not eating the five grains. There have been reports of this in modern times, and many similar legends are also recorded in ancient texts.

Outside the city of Luoyang during the Song dynasty, there was a mysterious cave. Its opening was not large, and inside it was pitch black, with a chilling cold that struck one to the bone. After some livestock and small animals fell in, they could never be found again. No one dared to go down and search, because it was said that the cave was bottomless.

One day, a farmer accidentally lost his footing and fell into the cave. He could not climb back up no matter what he tried. Trapped inside for several days, he grew so hungry that he became dizzy and his vision blurred. Suddenly, he heard a “whishing, whishing” sound of breathing. Looking carefully, he saw that at the bottom of the cave there were many turtles and snakes, all stretching their necks and breathing. He slowly moved closer, but the turtles and snakes completely ignored him and continued their “whishing, whishing” breaths. Following the direction their necks were stretching, he looked and saw the rising sun—it was as though they were swallowing the light of the sun. Finding this very strange, he imitated their posture, stretched his neck toward the east, and breathed in and out, circulating his qi. He tried his best to mimic their movements, matching the rhythm of their breathing for his own inhalation and exhalation. Gradually, his sensation of hunger disappeared. He did not know how long he continued in this manner. He only felt that his body weight was decreasing day by day, while his strength was increasing day by day, and his spirits were improving. One time, wanting to test whether he could climb out, he rose and began scaling the cave wall. To his surprise, with a few leaps and scrambles, he soon climbed out and saw the light of day again.

When he returned home, his family members could hardly believe that any of this was real. Afterward, he continued to practice bigu and did not eat. It seems that imitating the breathing of turtles and snakes is a rather effective method for cultivating bigu. Incidents of bigu like this also occurred at other times during the Song dynasty.

One year, a great famine struck Hebei. People fled for their lives one after another. A young couple, carrying their newborn baby on their backs, were also among the ranks of famine refugees. Along the way, many people collapsed from excessive hunger, their corpses scattered across the wilderness—a tragic sight too unbearable to witness. This couple was also starving, with empty bellies. How could they possibly have any milk to feed the child? Looking at their skin-and-bones baby, the couple thought: “We can barely walk anymore from fleeing the famine, and we are dragging a child along—won’t our whole family starve to death?” They had no choice but to abandon the child and retrieve its bones later. The two of them placed the baby in an empty grave by the roadside and, with tears in their eyes, fled for their lives.

After the famine passed, life gradually improved day by day. The couple planned to return to their hometown and rebuild their livelihood. On the road home, they intended to bring back the bones of the infant they had abandoned and bury them in their home village. They found that empty grave, opened it, and discovered a living, plump, white-skinned child—that is to say, their child had not only not died, but was alive and healthy. The couple was overjoyed and astonished. They lifted the child out of the empty grave,

and discovered inside the grave a giant toad as large as half a wheel, “whishing, whishing” as it breathed in and out. The couple felt that this toad must be a divine creature, and that their child had survived without being fed because it had breathed the creature’s qi, which was why its body remained strong. The two of them bowed deeply to the toad three times, then picked up the child and departed.

From then on, the child still did not eat, yet its body remained extremely healthy. When it reached the age of six or seven, its skin was still pure white and delicate, as smooth and lustrous as exquisitely carved white jade. However, the child did not like to interact with others and preferred to be alone, frequently practicing breathing and qi circulation like the toad. The couple was quite troubled by this, fearing that the child might encounter some unforeseen misfortune in the future. The father then carried the child to Kaifeng Prefecture to seek treatment from the renowned pediatrician Doctor Zhang Jingkuang.

Dietary Marvels

Upon hearing of the child’s extraordinary experience and its daily behavior and dietary habits, Doctor Zhang could not help but clasp his hands in congratulation toward the father, saying: “Congratulations! Your child surely has an immortal destiny! You see, there are many animals such as toads, turtles, and snakes that, once winter arrives, go into hibernation. Through the long months of harsh winter, they neither eat nor drink, yet they remain strong and alive. These creatures, practicing bigu and not eating, can live for a thousand years. But humans spend their lives eating, drinking, and indulging in lust—their lifespan amounting to mere decades. How tragic! In its infancy, this child received the qi of an immortal toad and has learned the immortal art of breathing and circulating qi, and so it is able to practice bigu and abstain from food. If you let it follow its nature, neither eating nor indulging in desire, it will surely attain the Dao and become an immortal.” The child’s father listened with great delight and took the child home.

(Song dynasty · Su Shi, Chouchi Biji [Notes from Chouchi], Chapter 63; Song dynasty · Ye Mengde, Bishu Luhua [Recorded Conversations While Escaping the Heat], Chapter 69)

A Thousand Cups Without Getting Drunk

In China, the history of wine has a long and deep lineage. Wine is one of people’s most beloved beverages, and so throughout Chinese history, extraordinary individuals with surpassing capacity for drink have also emerged one after another without end.

During the Tang Dynasty, there was a man named Xuanyuan Ji whom people called Mr. Luofu. His appearance was unusual: he was short of stature, slightly hunched over, with small eyes on a sallow face, like two black beans on a yellow flatbread. His face was covered in wrinkles, and his thick lips seemed as though they could never fully close. But odd as his appearance might be, his capacity for drink was

terrifyingly enormous. Even if he drank a hundred cups in succession, he would not get drunk. Of all those who tried to match him drink for drink, not one did not end up thoroughly intoxicated and defeated. People were all very curious about why he had such an enormous capacity for alcohol. It turned out that every time he finished drinking and returned home, he would ignore everyone, lower his head over a basin, and before long the wine would trickle out drop by drop from the corners of his mouth.

Xuanyuan Ji’s reputation spread ever wider, until it eventually reached Emperor Xuanzong of Tang. Emperor Xuanzong found it very interesting and summoned Xuanyuan Ji to the palace. Seeing his appearance so unlike anyone else’s, the emperor found him even more intriguing. He laid out a banquet to entertain him, and specifically had him sit before the imperial couch, asking him how he could drink so much without getting drunk. Xuanyuan Ji was not the least bit nervous and conversed with Emperor Xuanzong with easy eloquence. After the drinking was done, an elderly eunuch in charge of managing the emperor’s daily life in the palace mocked Xuanyuan Ji, saying, “Brother Xuanyuan, what great face you have! So handsome and dashing — truly fortunate! See how good His Majesty is to you!” After saying this, he laughed smugly and heartily. Xuanyuan Ji

Extraordinary Tales of Eating and Drinking

said little in reply and simply carried on chatting freely about this and that. Before long, the old eunuch’s appearance suddenly transformed into that of an incredibly ugly old woman. The eunuch himself was unaware, but the others seated around were utterly terrified. When the old eunuch looked into a mirror, he was so frightened that he burst into tears. Meanwhile, Xuanyuan Ji continued speaking with easy eloquence as before. Emperor Xuanzong understood at once what had happened, and so he said to the old eunuch, “Have you been discourteous to Mr. Xuanyuan? Hurry and apologize — beg his forgiveness.” The old eunuch hastily kowtowed and begged for pardon. Xuanyuan Ji said nothing at all — he simply stood up with a hearty laugh, and at that moment, the old eunuch reverted to his original appearance.

In Gaoxinji of Song Commandery during the Qing Dynasty, there was also such a peculiar person. No one knew his name or surname, and he never told anyone. He appeared to be over fifty years old, yet many white-haired elders in the area who had already surpassed the age of seventy said that when they were children, he already looked exactly as he did now. People all felt he must be someone who had cultivated his nature and attained the Way. He did not usually like to talk much with others, but his heart was exceedingly kind — he always gave silent help to his neighbors and fellow townsfolk, and never sought anyone’s repayment in return. On scorching hot days under the blazing sun, he would always carry a jug of water to the side of the main road and offer the water to people to drink. Whenever travelers passed by, he would call out: “Come over, have some water! Have some

water!” He never asked anyone for money for the water. Those who passed by and drank would always feel deeply grateful to this kindhearted man. However, some of his behaviors were quite astonishing and baffling. Strangely, in the heat of summer, he would often drape himself in a heavy sheepskin greatcoat and not shed a single drop of sweat; yet in the bitter cold of winter, he would frequently go without warm clothing, holding a wine flask while lying in the snow. Someone once saw him drink a great deal, yet he showed not the slightest sign of intoxication, and his movements were perfectly steady.

(Song Dynasty · Li Fang, Taiping Guangji, Volume 48; Qing Dynasty · Liu Xianting, Guangyang Zaji, Volume 1)

Entering Transformation and Transcendence — Extraordinary Abilities

The Female Daoist Who Practiced Bigu

Lord Fangbo was an upright man, a rigorous official who enforced the law with strictness and impartiality. During his tenure as Military Defense Commissioner of Songpan in Sichuan, he also concurrently held the position of Surveillance Commissioner.

Upon assuming office, he took up residence in the official residence of his predecessor as Surveillance Commissioner. One day, while strolling through the residence, he walked to the rear courtyard and discovered that one particular courtyard was tightly locked. From the mottled rust on the lock, it was evident that no one had lived in this courtyard for a very long time. Finding this strange, he asked his attendant: “What is stored in this courtyard? Why is it

[illegible]

the door securely locked?” The attendant reported: “To reply to Your Honor, this courtyard imprisoned a demoness many years ago, and so to this day no one has opened it.” Upon hearing this, Lord Fangbo felt quite puzzled and asked: “A demoness? Did this woman often spread deceitful words to mislead the public?” The attendant said: “No.” Lord Fangbo then asked: “Did she frequently gather crowds together at night, dispersing only after dawn?” His staff replied: “No.” Lord Fangbo felt even more curious and asked again: “Then did she play tricks with spirits and ghosts to swindle the people of their wealth?” His staff again answered: “No.” Lord Fangbo could not help but feel somewhat angry and said: “Then on what basis is she proven to be a demoness? This is absurd! Open it at once, quickly!”

Lord Fangbo ordered his men to open the courtyard gate and went in to see for himself what kind of “demoness” was being held. Yet what appeared before Lord Fangbo’s eyes was a woman dressed in plain white garments, full-figured, with a handsome face and luminous skin, without the slightest trace of demonic aura. Lord Fangbo examined her closely and saw that this woman showed no signs of having suffered hunger or starvation. But thinking of the rusted lock on the door, he could not help but wonder and asked: “This lady, who supplies your daily food and drink?” The woman bowed and said: “To reply to Your Honor, when I was first confined here, my family delivered some food. Later the government office sent provisions. As time went on, due to various delays, no one delivered anymore. However, I have practiced bigu — abstaining from food — for three years now.” Upon hearing this, Lord Fangbo found it hard to believe. His attendants all confirmed that she was not lying — the government office had indeed not supplied her food or drink for three years. Seeing that she was still courteous, Lord Fangbo asked: “Then can you read?” She shook her head and said: “Since childhood my family was poor, with no money to buy books — how could I possibly read!” Lord Fangbo asked again: “Over these years, how have you passed your days here?” She replied: “Simply by sitting in meditation and practicing breathing exercises to pass the time.” Lord Fangbo felt even more that this woman was extraordinary, and hurriedly asked: “Then may I venture to ask, what is ‘the Way’?” She merely answered: “It is but the principle of ‘yin and yang.‘” Lord Fangbo immediately pressed further: “Then what is ‘yin and yang’?” She answered again: “Nothing but ‘the beginningless.‘” From her few brief words, Lord Fangbo concluded that this woman was surely a remarkable one. He then proceeded to consult her in detail on many profound and enduring principles of Daoist philosophy that he himself did not fully understand, and she answered every one. Moreover, each of her words seemed as though drawn from the works of Laozi and Zhuangzi, or from celebrated Daoist writings. Afterward, Lord Fangbo asked what cause had led to her imprisonment here. She replied with a look of sorrow: “Entirely because I married.” Seeing her like this, Lord Fangbo

asked no further questions.

After returning, Lord Fangbo asked his attendants: “What could possibly have gone wrong with her marriage?” His attendant replied: “This woman is indeed different from ordinary people. She married into her husband’s family, and everything was fine, except that something strange happened when she shared a bed with her husband at night. Her husband could clearly see her right there on the bed and could hear her voice right beside his pillow, yet when he attempted to consummate the marriage, he could not get close to her body no matter what — it was as though a mountain lay between them. This went on for a long time, and many rumors and gossip began to circulate. Her husband could endure it no longer and filed a complaint with the government office, saying he had married a demoness. The authorities believed it to be true and confined her.” Upon hearing this, Lord Fangbo struck the table and rose to his feet: “A pack of vulgar mortals! I must right this wrong for her and have her released.”

So the next day, Lord Fangbo went to call upon Lord Fujun and reported the matter. Lord Fujun asked: “Then how do you know she is not a demoness?” Lord Fangbo replied: “This woman has now practiced bigu — abstaining from food — for over three years, yet her body remains healthy and intact, and her complexion is even better than that of ordinary people. From this it can be seen that she is versed in Daoist internal cultivation, and her skill is profound. If she were a demoness, she would surely drift about ceaselessly all day, wandering like smoke, and would also harm the populace. Yet she is so serene and composed — one can tell at a glance that she has deep foundations and no shallow affinity with the immortals. Therefore I am certain she is no demoness, and releasing her will bring no harm…” After hearing this, Lord Fujun found it quite reasonable and gave his approval.

Next, Lord Fangbo went to Lord Zhizhi, requesting that Lord Zhizhi also grant his approval. After hearing the report, Lord Zhizhi agreed as well. Seeing that the matter was settled, Lord Fangbo happily made his way home.

Upon returning, Lord Fangbo immediately summoned the woman and spoke to her earnestly: “I know you are guilty of no crime. The fault lies entirely with us, whose mortal eyes and fleshly bodies have wronged you. I bow with clasped hands in apology. I have reported the matter to my superiors, and you are to be released at once. May I venture to ask — what are your plans?” She let out a long breath and said: “At last I can see the light of day again. I have asked for nothing extravagant in my life — I only hope to retreat into seclusion at the immortal mountain of Emei. There I would find a small stone cave, free from the worldly affairs and dust of human affairs, and that would be enough.” Lord Fangbo said: “I know you do not belong to the mortal realm. Then let me see you on your way.”

A few days later, Lord Fangbo summoned her parents so she could bid them farewell. The woman appeared dressed as a Daoist nun — in a blue cloth robe, her hair coiled high in a topknot, holding a horse-tail whisk in her hand. She came before Lord Fangbo to take her leave and said: “Those who belong to the Buddhist and Daoist schools — all that they have in this world is the black-and-white karmic debt they have created for themselves. I am no exception. I am deeply grateful that Your Honor has secured my release, and I should thank you profoundly. But my earthly karma is exhausted, and it is time for me to go.” With that, she bowed deeply to Lord Fangbo, left behind a palm-leaf fan, and departed. Lord Fangbo gazed at her retreating figure and could not help but lament that his own connection with the immortals had been all too brief. And the palm-leaf fan she left behind kept Lord Fangbo’s study filled with an extraordinary fragrance all day long.

(Ming Dynasty, Zhongxian Zong’er Zai, Volume Two)

The Divine Peach

During the Song Dynasty, in the southwest corner of Rong County in Guangxi, there was a village nestled between mountains and water called Wangxianfang. The people here lived off the produce of these mountains. In Wangxianfang there lived two families — one surnamed Liang and one surnamed Zhi — whose friendship had endured across generations. Each family had a son, named Liang Xian and Zhi Zhide, who had played together since childhood and grown up side by side. From a young age, the two loved to climb mountains and play in the water, engaging in all manner of daring games.

In the Jiashen year of the Longxing reign of Emperor Xiaozong of Song, they were both just over twenty years old.

They were physically strong and in the prime of life. Though well past the age when they should have taken wives and had children, they still retained the fondness for play they had held since childhood. On the fourteenth day of the fourth month that year, the weather was clear. A few wisps of thin cloud adorned the deep blue sky, the spring breeze was gentle, greenery was lush and vibrant, and gazing at the distant mountains revealed a splendid spring scene. The two of them certainly would not let slip such a fine opportunity for an excursion. So they agreed to go out together. Along the way they talked and laughed cheerfully, admiring the scenery as they went, and before they knew it they had already reached the halfway point of Mount Duqiao. Liang Xian looked up and said: “This Duqiao Cave Heaven is famous far and wide, but the two of us have visited it countless times since childhood. We have seen the scenery in spring, summer, autumn, and winter alike. So why not find a new way to enjoy ourselves today?” Zhi Zhide, hearing this, was quite excited and eagerly asked: “What good idea do you have? Tell me quickly.” Liang Xian pointed at the mountain path and said: “Look at this mountain path—who knows how many times our feet have trodden it, yet every time our hands have only been used to pick a few flowers. What a waste of these arms! Why not today we find a new route together and use our hands to scale the cliff up the mountain? What do you think?” Zhi Zhide clapped his hands in approval and said: “Yes! This is what you would call truly climbing a mountain!” So the two of them made their way to the foot of a cliff, where they saw green vines growing thickly and the rock face covered in exotic flowers and unusual grasses. They grasped the vines and scaled their way up the steep wall.

Before long, the two of them reached the summit in high spirits. They looked out and were both startled: Mount Duqiao, which they had visited many times, actually had a temple here. The temple was not large, consisting of only three rooms. Green trees provided ample shade before the temple, making it appear especially tranquil and secluded. They walked to the temple door and lightly knocked on the door ring, but no one answered. Without thinking, they gave a push and the door opened. The simple furnishings inside were all visible at a glance—nothing more than a few Buddhist statues, a bronze bell, and a wooden fish. It was extremely clean inside; every object was spotless. Liang Xian called softly: “Elder, Elder…” But there was no response. They were quite puzzled—how could there be no one in the temple?

They passed through the temple and saw a mountain spring gurgling not far away, its water clear and transparent, quite delightful. Peach trees grew in abundance along the spring. It was now the season when peaches ripened, and the trees were covered with red, luscious fruit that made one’s mouth water. Zhi Zhide jumped up with joy: “To find such a fresh and elegant place today, and to have such lovely fresh fruit to eat—how wonderful!” Like children, they bounded joyfully to a tree. Zhi Zhide was just about to climb up and eat his fill when Liang Xian suddenly

pulled him back and, pointing at a tree not far away, said: “Look at the peaches on the branches of that tree—they are extraordinarily large, two sizes bigger than ordinary ones!” Zhi Zhide looked in the direction Liang Xian indicated, and sure enough, a large, plump peach was weighing down a branch. When they picked it and looked at it, how strange—someone had already taken two bites of it. To throw away such a large peach was truly a pity, so without thinking further, they took turns eating the peach until it was completely finished. The taste was indeed beyond that of any ordinary peach. After they finished eating, they felt very full in their stomachs and had no appetite to eat any other peaches. After a while, Liang Xian said: “Huh, I feel so light and refreshed in my body. Do you have that feeling too?” Zhi Zhide also let out a long breath and said: “Yes! I also feel a kind of fragrant sweetness in my mouth!” In this inexplicable way, having eaten this peach, their bodies were suddenly freed of much worldly coarseness.

They admired the beautiful scenery in the mountains and took in the full splendor of spring. When the sun was about to set, the two of them returned to the empty temple to rest. In this way, they spent their days exploring the mountains and streams, and their nights sleeping in the temple, free of worry and care, roaming freely for fifteen days. But the strange thing was that no matter how much they roamed and played, they never felt hungry. For half a month they had not ingested a single grain of rice, yet they remained full of spirit and abundant in energy.

Later, they revisited Mount Duqiao once again. Before setting out, their families prepared five sheng of dry rations for them and urged them to come home quickly. On this trip, they were gone for over a month. When they arrived home, more than half the dry rations still remained in their bags. Their families were very puzzled and pressed them: “What have you two been doing on the mountain all this month? Why were you gone so long? Oh, ever since that last trip to the mountains, neither of you eats much at ordinary meals—what is going on? Could you be ill?” The two of them only smiled and made no reply. What had they actually been doing for this month and more? It turned out that while roaming the mountains, they would occasionally eat a few wild fruits and drink a little mountain spring water, and they never felt hungry. It did not affect their enjoyment of their excursion in the least. When they came down the mountain, their complexions were still rosy and lustrous, and their appearance was even better than in previous years! So naturally they could not eat the dry rations, and instead had fed some of it to the little birds in the mountains.

The story of their bigu—abstention from food—spread throughout Rong County in no time. Some people even said

they were reincarnated immortals. Lord Cheng, the garrison commander of Rong County, normally hated most those witches and shamans who feigned divine power and deluded the people’s hearts. Whenever he caught them, he invariably subjected them to severe punishment. So he did not believe for a moment the claims of Liang Xian’s and Zhi Zhide’s “abstention from food,” and had them brought to the county yamen. Lord Cheng shouted at them: “You claim to practice bigu? I will lock you up for half a month and certainly expose your true form.” The two were then confined in an empty stone room and given no food. Lord Cheng had assumed that after two days of confinement, they would surely be begging for mercy and confessing their deception. But half a month passed, and not a single sound of pleading was heard from within the room. When the stone room was opened, Lord Cheng was utterly dumbfounded: the two men were completely unharmed, their appearances unchanged in the slightest. Lord Cheng hurriedly offered his apologies: “This official is ignorant and lacking in learning. I have caused two eminent gentlemen to suffer.” But Liang Xian and Zhi Zhide only said: “Your Lordship need not blame yourself. Just let us common folk return home.” Lord Cheng promptly sent them home. After that, the two of them continued to live their days as before, practicing bigu and not eating.

In the second month of the bingxu year, Liang Xian bade farewell to his family and left his hometown alone. It was said he had gone to travel in Sichuan, and from then on he never returned. Zhi Zhide continued to live his days peacefully as usual.

(Qing dynasty — Wang Sen, Yue Xi Cong Zai, Volume 11)

Eating Stones

Among the common people, there are frequent legends of immortals boiling and eating stones. Yet the several stories recorded below, which took place during the Qing dynasty, concern ordinary people eating stones.

Account One

On the streets of Guangzhou there was a beggar in his twenties. Though he appeared very thin and frail, his belly was swollen like a large gourd. Every morning when he went out, he would walk along calling out: “Buying tiles, stones, and porcelain wares!” When the young men of the marketplace heard his cries, they would follow behind him to watch the spectacle. Some young people would give him a bit of money, and then

They would pick up stones and pieces of tile for him to eat. He would immediately put them into his mouth, eating them with great relish, just like eating lotus root and sugarcane. There was a kind of red “rice stone” in Dongguan that he liked to eat the most. When others gave him porcelain to eat, he would insist on a heavy reward; and when he ate it, he would stare with wide eyes and stretch his neck, showing a slight expression of difficulty in swallowing. At night, this beggar lived in the Temple of the Three Realms Deity. When the weather was hot, he would always go to bathe in the river in front of the temple. His massive, gourd-like belly would float on the water without sinking, and the young men of the town would gather around to watch and laugh.

Account Two

Wang Shizhen’s household had a servant named Wang Jialu. As a child, he was sent to a temple on Mount Lao, where he remained until he was over twenty years old. On the mountain, he would sit on the ground every day, tranquil and inactive. Over time, he became free of desires and demands, and he even stopped eating food entirely. Strangely, he only ate stones for meals, and when thirsty, he would drink water from the stream. Gradually, hair about an inch long grew all over his body, which frightened people so much that they dared not approach him. Later, because his mother was old and frail and needed someone to care for her, he came down from the mountain and returned home to live. Slowly, he began to eat cooked food again, and the hair on his body gradually fell out. However, he still frequently ate stones for meals; every time he took a stone and held it up to the sunlight to look at it, he could distinguish several flavors such as salty, sweet, bitter, and spicy. Because he constantly gnawed on stones, his teeth became exceptionally hard and strong. He could hang a large bucket full of water from his teeth and spin it around like the wind. After his mother passed away, it was unknown where he went.

Account Three

Zhu Mufan once recorded a child named Aiyun, who at the age of eight was playing a game of tossing tiles and stones at his doorstep. A beggar walked over, stood there with his head held high and chest puffed out, neither speaking nor leaving. Aiyun picked up two broken pieces of tile, handed them to the beggar, and said, “This can be eaten by you.” The beggar took them, put them in his mouth, and chewed them with his teeth. The sound was crisp, like chewing ice and lotus root. After finishing, he left. Aiyun was still young at the time and did not feel surprised. As he gradually grew older, he found the incident to be exceedingly bizarre.

Account Four

There was a scholar named Li Zhang. His wife, née Xu, was exceptionally beautiful, and her character was steady and quiet. Ordinarily, she would not even step out the main door, but as soon as night fell, she would go alone to the backyard garden where melons, fruits, and vegetables were planted. Li Zhang’s observation of his wife’s behavior…

…initially did not strike him as unusual; he only noticed that every time his wife returned from the backyard garden, her mouth seemed to be chewing on something.

One day, Li Zhang secretly followed behind his wife to peek. He saw née Xu walk into a bamboo grove, bend down, and feel around on the ground as if searching for something. When she returned, she was still constantly chewing. That night, Li Zhang felt a small stone beside his pillow; when he looked at it in the morning, it was covered with teeth marks. Soon after, he also saw many stones with teeth marks in née Xu’s trunk. Only then did he begin to feel it was strange and pressed her with questions, but née Xu continued to say nothing. Née Xu used to be very jealous, but ever since she started eating stones, she was no longer jealous and had become very tolerant and generous.

(Qing Dynasty · Wang Shizhen, Chibei Outan

Dietary Anomalies

Qing Dynasty · Zhu Mufan, Mingzhai Xiaoshi; Qing Dynasty · Xu Shiluan, Song Yan)

Wondrous Abilities and Extraordinary Endowments

The Divine Calculator

In the Western Capital, there was a wealthy man named Chen Guanghan, whose family was the richest in the region, yet he was somewhat stingy by nature. Guanghan had a friend named Yuan Li. This man was no simpleton, for having received instruction from an extraordinary master, he could divine and calculate, predicting events with divine accuracy, though he rarely revealed his abilities. Having heard rumors from friends, Guanghan often asked him about it. Yuan Li would always gloss over it vaguely, leaving Guanghan half-believing and half-doubting.

One day, Yuan Li met Chen Guanghan in a small tavern, and they moved their dishes to a table. The two men raised their wine cups and, as they drank,

chatted, not noticing the sun setting in the west. After a few cups of wine, Yuan Li’s face flushed, his spirits gradually rose, and he became increasingly animated in conversation. Seeing this, Guanghan shifted the conversation, wanting to test whether the rumors outside were actually true. He feigned ignorance, putting on a troubled expression, and said, “My house has two granaries, stocked with several years’ worth of old rice. I want to take some out to exchange for a few acres of poor farmland. I’ve already inquired about the land, but I’ve completely forgotten the exact number of shi of rice in the granaries. I’m very anxious about it. Could you, sir, help me calculate it?”

Upon hearing this, Yuan Li casually picked up a chopstick, tapped and pointed with it, drawing roughly a dozen circles in the air. After a brief moment of contemplation, he spoke up: “The east granary contains 749 shi, 2 sheng, and 7 ge of rice.” He then gestured with the chopstick to draw another dozen or so circles and said, “The west granary has a bit less, totaling 697 shi and 8 dou.”

Chen Guanghan was greatly astonished upon hearing this—how could he have calculated it so precisely? Seeing that Yuan Li’s expression was normal and didn’t seem like he was joking, he carefully memorized the two numbers. After the drinking was over and the people dispersed, Chen Guanghan hurried back home, intending to tell his servants to inventory the granaries. But seeing that it was getting late, he had to first lock the granaries with large locks to prevent his family from using the rice.

The next day, Chen Guanghan got up early, woke the servants, and ordered them to inventory the granaries. The servants were all bewildered, but seeing their master so resolute, they dared not object and carefully began the inventory. For a time, it was very lively with dou and sheng measuring vessels going back and forth. Chen Guanghan held paper and pen to record and supervise the measuring.

As evening approached, the grain in the west granary was completely emptied. Chen Guanghan wiped the sweat from his brow, calculated the numbers several times over, and arrived at a total of 697 shi, 7 dou, and 9 sheng, which was only 1 sheng different from what Yuan Li had said. He was utterly amazed in his heart, clicking his tongue in wonder. Suddenly, he heard a servant cry out in alarm from inside the granary: “What a huge rat!” Chen Guanghan went into the granary to look, and indeed he saw a large rat cowering at the base of the wall. Having nowhere to hide, it was shivering. Chen Guanghan ordered someone to beat it to death, and then heard the servant say, “Its size must be about a sheng! It’s really big!”

Chen Guanghan’s heart skipped a beat, and he thought to himself: The rice and the rat in the west granary total exactly 697 shi and 8 dou. So Yuan Li’s calculation was perfectly accurate down to the last fraction.

Beyond his astonishment, Chen Guanghan was still puzzled. The next day, he ordered someone to inventory the east granary as well, yielding exactly 749 shi, 2 sheng, and 7 ge, not off by a fraction. Only then did he firmly believe it without a doubt, and his admiration for Yuan Li grew immensely.

A year later, Yuan Li returned from a long journey and came to visit Chen Guanghan. Overjoyed, Chen Guanghan, after they sat down, eagerly told him about the granary incident, ceaselessly exclaiming in wonder. Upon hearing there was a rat in the granary, Yuan Li’s face instantly changed color. He slapped the edge of his seat bed with his hand and sighed,

saying, “Ah, I actually didn’t consider that a rat needs to eat rice. The rice it ate was not accounted for! How shameful, how shameful. What use is this face of mine anymore? I might as well peel it off.” His sighs lingered without end. Seeing this, Chen Guanghan admired him even more and, making an exception, insisted on treating Yuan Li to a meal.

In a short while, the wine and dishes were already served. Yuan Li looked down and saw that the food to go with the wine was merely a few slices of salted venison. Seeing his old friend acting so stingy, he wanted to play a joke on him. Yuan Li stretched and bent his fingers, calculating continuously, and said to Chen Guanghan: “Your sugarcane fields cover 25 plots, from which you should harvest 1,536 stalks of sugarcane. You also have 37 mu of land planted with large taro, which should yield 673 shi of large taros. The 1,000 head of cattle you raise have birthed 200 calves; and those 10,000 chickens can hatch 50,000 chicks.”

Chen Guanghan repeatedly agreed. Yuan Li then calculated the numbers of sheep, pigs, geese, and ducks raised in his home, and further pointed out where his family planted melons, where there were fruit trees, and where vegetables were grown. Everything he said was completely accurate, making Chen Guanghan nod incessantly, continually calling him divine.

When Yuan Li reached this point, he smiled faintly at Chen Guanghan and said casually, “This kind of wealth and estate is considered quite vast, yet you treat your guest so shabbily.” Chen Guanghan’s cheeks flushed slightly, revealing his shame, but he argued verbally: “You arrived too hastily; we didn’t have time to prepare. I’m truly sorry.” Seeing that he was still being stingy, Yuan Li intentionally provoked him, saying, “That’s not right. You have a steamed suckling pig on your table, and there is also a plate of lychees in the kitchen. These are both excellent dishes to go with the wine. Quickly have someone serve them so your old friend can have a taste.” After speaking, he smiled slyly at Chen Guanghan.

Seeing that he couldn’t hide it from him and being exposed to his face, Chen Guanghan felt greatly ashamed. He hurriedly left his seat, repeatedly bowed in apology, and personally brought out the steamed pig’s head and the lychees. Yuan Li thanked him while eating heartily. For a time, the two exchanged cups, talked about what they had seen and heard since they parted, and dispersed in high spirits.

(Jin Dynasty · Ge Fa, Miscellaneous Records of the Western Capital)

Photographic Memory

The monk Yixing was renowned for his ability to memorize anything after reading it once. In the beginning, he studied Buddhism under Chan Master Puji at Mount Song. Any scripture or canonical text, he could recite from beginning to end after reading it just once, and moreover he could thoroughly grasp the essential meaning of the writing. The other monks all sighed in admiration, admitting they could not match him.

Once, Chan Master Puji held a grand dharma assembly at the temple. Monks and disciples living hundreds of li away all came to attend this grand gathering. On the day of the assembly, one could see monks swarming in from all directions—

—pouring in, and for a time the temple and its surroundings were bustling and noisy with the voices of over a thousand people.

There was a recluse on Mount Song named Lu Hong. This man was noble in character and profound in learning, and was greatly respected by people. Therefore, Chan Master Puji invited Lu Hong to compose an essay to extol the grandeur of the assembly. Only as the meeting time drew near did Lu Hong hand the completed essay to Chan Master Puji. After the bells and music were played, the collective chanting of scriptures began. At this point, Lu Hong approached Puji’s side and suggested: “The essay I have written is several thousand characters long, and the vocabulary is unusual, the language distinctive. I fear that ordinary people would find it difficult to read from beginning to end. Could you select a clever monk from among your community so that I may instruct him personally?” Chan Master Puji then sent for the monk Yixing.

The monk Yixing was brought in. He took the manuscript and hurriedly skimmed through it once, then ceased examining it closely and placed the essay back on the desk. When Lu Hong saw that Yixing had not studied it carefully but had only cursorily flipped through it, he felt somewhat displeased, and even developed a degree of aversion toward the monk Yixing.

Before long, over a thousand monks gathered together, ready to listen to the essay that Lu Hong had written. At this moment, Yixing rolled up his wide sleeves and strode majestically into the assembly hall. Facing the gathered monks, he recited the essay in a loud voice from beginning to end in one continuous flow, without a single error. Seeing this, Lu Hong stood stunned for a long while. He had never imagined that the monk Yixing possessed such extraordinary ability. Afterward, he said to Chan Master Puji: “This is not someone you can teach. You should let him go elsewhere to study under another master.”

When Emperor Xuanzong of Tang learned that the monk Yixing could memorize anything after reading it once, he summoned him for an audience, wishing to test him personally. When Yixing arrived in the capital, Emperor Xuanzong asked him: “Master, what special abilities do you possess?” Yixing replied: “I can remember everything I have seen.” Emperor Xuanzong immediately ordered the officials in charge of palace affairs to bring the palace population register and hand it to Yixing, wishing to see whether Yixing could truly commit this lengthy register to memory. After Yixing received the register, he unhurriedly opened it, browsed through it once, and then closed it. When Emperor Xuanzong asked him whether he could recite the register he had just seen from memory, Yixing nodded—

—and said: “I can.” With his eyes slightly closed, he fell silent for a moment, then began to recite in a loud voice. Sure enough, from beginning to end, not a single character was off—as though he had long since memorized it. Emperor Xuanzong could scarcely believe this was real. He then specified a particular page and asked him to recite that one, and he recited it as well. Emperor Xuanzong was greatly astonished. He rose and walked to where the monk Yixing stood, grasped his hand, and called him a “sage.” Before his departure, the emperor also specially bestowed upon him an imperial bed.

Later, the monk Yixing traveled widely, visiting renowned masters everywhere and seeking instruction. Once he called upon the Daoist priest Yin Chong and borrowed Yang Xiong’s Tai Xuan Jing (Canon of Supreme Mystery). A few days later, he went to return the book to Daoist priest Yin Chong. Seeing that the monk Yixing had returned the book so quickly, Yin Chong asked him in puzzlement: “Why have you returned the book so soon? Is there something you found difficult that you need me to explain? The meaning of this book is profound. I have studied it for many years and still do not fully understand it. You should study it more deeply.” Yixing replied: “I have already grasped its meaning.” So saying, he produced his own written work, the Diagram of the Great Expansion and Exposition of Its Meaning (Tai Xuan Tu Ji Yi Jue), and showed it to Yin Chong. After browsing through it with delight and astonishment, Yin Chong said with admiration: “You are the Yan Yuan of our age!”

The monk Yixing also wished to thoroughly study the method of divination through computation with large numbers. One day, he arrived at the Guoqing Temple on Mount Tiantai. He saw a courtyard, within several tens of steps all ancient pines, and before the gate a murmuring stream. Yixing stood between the screen panels at the entrance and heard a monk inside the courtyard performing calculations, producing crisp cracking sounds. When the computation was finished, the monk said to his disciples: “Today a student should come to seek my instruction in the method of divination. He has already arrived at the gate—why has no one come to announce him?” Having said this, he counted on his fingers and added: “The stream before the gate should flow westward; the disciple is about to arrive.” Following the sound of the voice, Yixing entered the courtyard gate, knelt and bowed to the master, and sought instruction in the method of divination. Before long, he had learned all of this monk’s divination skills. Strangely, the water before the gate normally flowed eastward, but on this day it suddenly changed direction and flowed westward.

In the latter years of the Kaiyuan era, the monk Yixing passed away. On the day of his funeral, Pei Kuan, the Governor of Henan Prefecture, also donned mourning garments and personally walked out of the city to join the people in seeing the monk Yixing off to his burial.

(Room · Duan Chengshi, Youyang Za Zu)¹

The Dragon in the Water

China is a vast land richly endowed with resources, its rivers and streams spread out like a network of stars. In such a country abundant in water resources, there have been many people since ancient times who constantly deal with water. They regard the water as their home and are excellent swimmers and divers.

Far away, in the Huangzhou region during the Tang dynasty, rivers spread like a web across both city and countryside. There lived here an ethnic minority performer named Cao Zan. He was powerfully built, standing eight chi tall, and was exceptionally intelligent by nature, his gaze bright and spirited, often radiating a superhuman vitality. In particular—

What was worth boasting about was his exceptional skill in the water — he was thoroughly proficient in all kinds of aquatic techniques and tricks, and his performances were spectacular beyond compare, earning him the title of “champion water-play scholar.” Among his acts was one very much like today’s high-platform diving. He would climb fully dressed up a mast well over a hundred feet tall, then calmly dive from the top, performing various movements in midair before alighting as lightly as a water bird into the water. The audience truly broke a sweat on his behalf. Cao Zan also had another extraordinary feat: he could sit perfectly upright on the surface of the water without sinking, as though he were seated not on water but on a lush green meadow. Then, wearing boots, he would tread steadily across the water’s surface, calling to mind the supreme lightness skill of “a dragonfly skimming the water.” It was truly a marvel to behold.

One time, during a performance, Cao Zan invited members of the audience to come forward and stuff him into a sack. He had them tie the sack shut good and tight, then toss it into the river. Many in the audience, seeing this, believed he was certainly doomed. Who could have known — the sack floated in the river, and before long Cao Zan emerged from the mouth of the sack, waved to everyone, and swam back like a fish. The crowd excitedly applauded and cheered loudly. He performed all manner of movements in the water — sometimes doing handstands beneath the surface with his legs scissoring, sometimes swimming like a snake, sometimes somersaulting as he moved, sometimes diving to the bottom — transforming through a thousand different postures. The audience was utterly won over by his dazzling performances and believed that Cao Zan must possess abilities far beyond those of ordinary people.

In Longchuan County, Xunzhou, during the Song dynasty, there was also a man named Lan Qiao who possessed extraordinary skills on the water. He was a bold and open-hearted person who often joked around with people, though at times he was utterly unfathomable. Once, Lan Qiao and a friend of his named Wu Ziye went out for a countryside outing. It was midsummer, and the blazing sun was like fire. By the time they climbed up onto the Bian Bridge, they were already somewhat weary, their mouths dry and parched. Wu Ziye said, “It’s so hot — why don’t we buy a melon to quench our thirst and take a rest while we’re at it?” Lan Qiao nodded in agreement and told Wu Ziye to wait a moment. In no time at all, Lan Qiao returned carrying a melon. Just as they were about to cut it open and eat it, Lan Qiao said, “Ah! It’s so hot and dust is flying everywhere — won’t that get the melon dirty? I’m afraid that eating it might upset our stomachs. Why don’t we go into the water and eat it there?” With that, he jumped into the river with a “splash.” Wu Ziye, knowing his love of pranks, waited on the bridge quite helplessly. He kept his eyes on the water’s surface and saw bubbles occasionally rising from the bottom, interspersed with pieces of melon rind floating up. Wu Ziye knew he probably would not have the good fortune of eating any melon.

Wu Ziye waited and waited on the bridge. He waited until the sun set behind the western hills and the moon hung from the branches, but still Lan Qiao did not emerge from the water. So he had no choice but to come down from the bridge and wait for him at the inn they usually frequented. Wu Ziye finished his meal at the inn and read a book on his own for a while, but Lan Qiao still had not returned. Frustrated — angry with nowhere to vent it — he put out the lamp and went to bed. In the middle of the night, as Wu Ziye was wandering through dreamland, someone suddenly shook him awake. He opened his bleary eyes and saw Lan Qiao soaked from head to toe, still clutching half a melon in his hands. Just as he was about to speak, Lan Qiao gave a mischievous wink and said, “What — are you angry? I was waiting for you in the water to eat the melon, but you wouldn’t give me any face, refusing to come down for the longest time!” Wu Ziye truly had no way of dealing with this good friend of his. He shook his head and laughed helplessly.

(Tang · Zhao Lin, Yin Hua Lu [OCR damaged] Song · Hong Mai, Yijian Zhi)

The Art of Sleeplessness

Mr. Chen Fang of Changle County in Xia Prefecture, Hubei, was a very renowned great scholar of the Song dynasty. During his tenure teaching at the Imperial Academy, he produced quite a number of outstanding students who went on to serve the nation. However, he once had a student who was hopelessly addicted to alcohol, drinking without the slightest restraint. He kept wine by his side every day and frequently drank himself into a stupor, completely insensible. His studies, too, were greatly neglected. Mr. Chen was very angry, frustrated at his inability to mold this student into something worthwhile. He had tried every manner of earnest persuasion, but the student always turned a deaf ear and refused to change his bad habits.

One day, a brewery owner from Zhuji County in Zhejiang came to the Imperial Academy

seeking a tutor to come to his home and teach. In a fit of pique, Mr. Chen sent that very student off to teach there. Before his departure, Mr. Chen “congratulated” him, saying: “The place where you will be teaching this time was specially chosen by me for you — it suits you perfectly, for it is a world of wine. This can be considered as fulfilling one of my wishes. How truly worthy of congratulations!” But the student, as if he still had not sobered up from his drunkenness, simply kept nodding in agreement, saying over and over, “Many thanks to my esteemed teacher for his guidance, many thanks to my esteemed teacher for his guidance.” And so, Mr. Chen watched helplessly as this muddle-headed student crossed the river and headed east.

After he left, Chen Fang continued to worry about him — he was, after all, his own student. In the autumn of the thirteenth year of the Chunxi era, Chen Fang was commissioned to go to Zhejiang to oversee the provincial examinations, and he also wanted to take the opportunity to visit that student who was teaching in Zhuji. But after searching for a long while, he could not find him. He wondered: could this student have become mired in drink day in and day out, unable to pull himself out, and lost his life to alcohol? Mr. Chen could not help feeling somewhat saddened. But later, someone told him that this student had not died and was still teaching at that same household. However, it seemed that he had encountered something at some point that had brought about certain changes in him. He now neither ate nor drank all day, and at night he did not get into bed to sleep, leaving people thoroughly baffled and unable to comprehend it. Yet his level of instruction for his students in the study showed no great improvement either. The people at the Imperial Academy, including his former classmates, did not believe these reports, thinking it was merely idle gossip spread by people with nothing better to do.

As the cold and heat alternated and the seasons turned, a year passed before they knew it. That spring, the student suddenly returned to the Imperial Academy to pay his respects to Mr. Chen Fang. To everyone’s astonishment, his attire was no different from before, yet the smell of alcohol was gone. When he spoke, he was measured and unhurried, bearing the demeanor of a true scholar. The others, recalling the earlier rumors, asked whether those things were true. He was somewhat embarrassed and said: “In the past, when I was at the Imperial Academy, I spent all day befriending alcohol and neglected my studies. In Zhuji as well, I was entangled by drink and could not free myself, and I caused much harm. I was deeply remorseful and made up my mind to quit drinking and never touch it again. At every mealtime, I always felt as though I had already eaten and drunk my fill. When evening came and it was time to rest, I had no drowsiness whatsoever, so I would light a lamp and read more books. Every day now, I simply do not eat and do not sleep.” After hearing this, everyone found it utterly astonishing and could not help doubting whether what he said was actually true. And so they privately

we agreed among ourselves that each person would take turns staying with him for one night, while during the day we would all study together. After a few days, when we saw that he truly went without sleep and did not eat during the day, we came to believe that what he said and what the rumors claimed were all true. The group pressed him further about what exactly had happened to him, but he always shook his head and said, “I myself do not understand why I am this way.” Seeing that he seemed to have something difficult to disclose, everyone let the matter drop.

After some time had passed, no one brought up the matter anymore. One day, after he had finished seeking instruction from Mr. Chen Fang, Mr. Chen asked him: “I know that you must be hiding something from me. Today it is just the two of us, master and student — you may as well tell me.” He sighed and slowly said: “This must be told starting from when I went to Zhuji to teach. After I arrived there, the moment I saw that the wine shop opened by my host’s family was only half a li from where I lived, I was overjoyed, thinking to myself that from now on there would be no shortage of wine to drink. Every morning I would haphazardly finish teaching the students, then leave behind a large pile of assignments and run off to the wine shop to drink several big bowls to my heart’s content, to satisfy my craving for wine. When I could not sleep at night, I would go back and drink my fill again. Every day was like this, and every day I was drunk. Over time, people gradually grew tired of me and looked down on me. I knew full well that all of this would hinder my prospects, but I could not overcome the temptation of wine, and so my anguish only deepened. One day, I became especially severely drunk. Stumbling out of the wine shop, I blearily looked up and saw a very tall mountain outside the wine shop, covered all over with dark pines and green cypresses, lush and dense, appearing particularly secluded and lovely. Without thinking much about anything at the time, I wandered in the direction of the mountain, then staggered and clambered up the mountain to explore. As I blundered through the pine and cypress forest, I suddenly caught sight of a Daoist priest lying beneath a large pine tree. When the Daoist priest saw me, he stood up. He was seven chi tall, wearing a wide robe of blue cloth, with a jade hairpin of deep green inserted among his high-coiled topknot. Below his thick brows, a pair of bright, penetrating eyes gazed at me, and he carried himself with an imposing, transcendent bearing, full of immortal air. He walked over and said to me: ‘Young man! You constantly indulge in wine without respite — do you not fear at all that it harms your body? Do you not cherish your life in the least? Now you truly ought to think carefully!’ His words deeply moved me, and I instantly sobered from my drunkenness. Looking at the Daoist priest, a profound respect and admiration could not help but rise in my heart. Seeing that I had sobered, he nodded slightly, called me to his side, and softly whispered a few secret incantations, which I memorized completely. When I knelt down

and bowed, then raised my head again, the blue-clothed robe flashed once among the pine and cypress forest, and he was gone. From then on, I did not touch a single drop of wine. And I no longer needed to sleep, because I simply could not fall asleep at all. In this way, I had much, much more time to read and recover the time I had lost.” Mr. Chen Fang could not help but grow fond of this student. As the common saying goes: “A prodigal son’s return is worth more than gold.” After all, he had already recognized his errors and found his way back.

(Hong Biao)

The Body Emits a Extraordinary Fragrance

On the second day of the third month in the fourth year of the Jinglong era of Emperor Zhongzong of Tang, Master Sengjia, who was held in great reverence by Emperor Zhongzong, passed away at Jianfu Temple. When Emperor Zhongzong learned the news that Master Sengjia had died seated in meditation, he was deeply sorrowful. Mindful of the master’s past merits of every kind and his virtuous deeds that brought blessings to the people, he ordered that a pagoda be built for him at Jianfu Temple, and that the master’s true body be enshrined in the temple according to Buddhist regulations.

The funeral arrangements for Master Sengjia were being carried out in earnest when, suddenly, fierce winds whipped up and dust filled the sky. Immediately after, a foul stench from an unknown

source spread throughout the entire city of Chang’an. For a time, the people of Chang’an were panic-stricken, not knowing what was about to happen. Smelling the overwhelming stench, Emperor Zhongzong asked his ministers in bewilderment: “The city of Chang’an has suddenly been shrouded in a foul odor — what omen is this?” The ministers looked at one another, at a loss for how to respond. Just then, a close minister who had been on intimate terms with the master during his lifetime stepped forward and reported: “During his life, the master established a temple at Linhuai. Now that he has passed away, he perhaps wishes to return to Linhuai, and therefore has manifested this sign.” Hearing this, Emperor Zhongzong was suddenly enlightened. He silently agreed in his heart to have Master Sengjia’s true body relocated to Linhuai. The moment this thought flashed through his mind, the foul odor drifting all around vanished in an instant, replaced by a wave of intense, rich fragrance.

As it happens, the miracle displayed by Master Sengjia was not limited to this one occasion after his passing. In fact, rumors of various miracles associated with Master Sengjia had long been common knowledge.

Master Sengjia was a man from the Western Regions. In the early years of the Longshuo era of Emperor Gaozong of Tang, he came to travel in the north. Having witnessed the prosperity and splendor of the Great Tang, he enrolled under the Chuzhou Longxing Temple and never returned to the Western Regions. Once, while traveling, he arrived at Xinyi Ward in Linhuai County, Sizhou, where he saw a stretch of barren wasteland. He asked the local people to give him this piece of land, saying that he would build a temple there. The locals, seeing that this land had long been abandoned and was of no use, handed it over to him without hesitation. Master Sengjia was very pleased to obtain the land and immediately marked the spot where the temple was to be built. Later, when people began constructing the temple on this land, everyone dug up beneath the markers that Master Sengjia had made and discovered an inscription plaque of the ancient Xiangji Temple along with a golden statue. Furthermore, upon it was carved the Buddha character “King of Universal Illumination.” Seeing these things, everyone marveled at Master Sengjia’s miraculous vision.

After Emperor Zhongzong ascended the throne, he once sent an envoy to welcome the master into the palace to conduct Buddhist rites. Emperor Zhongzong admired the master’s profound learning and boundless merits, and honored him as National Preceptor. However, Master Sengjia was unwilling to live inside the palace. Before long, he moved out of the imperial palace and took up residence at Jianfu Temple. At Jianfu Temple, he often dwelt alone in a single room. Over time, people discovered that there was a hole on the top of Master Sengjia’s head, which he ordinarily kept plugged with cotton to avoid drawing attention.

At night, the Master would remove the cotton ball, and immediately a strong fragrance would overflow from the aperture. In an instant, the entire room would be enveloped in swirling vapors, richly aromatic. By dawn, the fragrance permeating the room would be drawn back into the crown aperture, and then the Master would use the cotton ball to plug the crown aperture once more.

Master Sengjia also frequently used his own foot-washing water to cure people’s illnesses. Once, a person who had fallen seriously ill and could not be cured for a long time sought out the Master, hoping to find a definitive cure for his ailment. At the time, Master Sengjia was washing his feet in hot water. After listening to the patient’s account, he pointed to his foot-washing water and said, “If you drink this foot-washing water, your illness will be immediately eradicated.” Half-doubting and half-believing, the patient drank the foot-washing water. He immediately felt clear-headed and refreshed, his abdomen grew subtly warm, and his pain disappeared. Once the news spread, people suffering from illnesses one after another sought an audience with the Master, hoping to obtain his foot-washing water.

One spring, the capital region experienced a severe drought. The blazing sun scorched the earth, wheat seedlings withered, tree leaves drooped limply, and springs dried up. People could find no water to drink. For a time, rumors flew, panic spread, and refugees fleeing to other lands were everywhere. Emperor Zhongzong was deeply troubled and invited the Master to the inner hall, saying urgently, “The capital region is parched and rainless, I beg the Master to show mercy!” The Master pondered for a long while before finally agreeing with a smile. He simply scattered the water from his vase into the air. After a short while, the unbearable summer heat vanished, and the clear blue sky was instantly covered with dark clouds. Before long, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled as a heavy rain came pouring down. Seeing the sudden heavy rain fall from the sky, the people leaped and cheered for joy. Emperor Zhongzong was overjoyed. He issued an edict bestowing the title “Linhuai Temple” upon the monastery built by the Master. However, Master Sengjia requested to use “King of Universal Illumination” from the golden statue as the temple’s name. Because Emperor Zhongzong had to observe the naming taboo of Empress Wu Zetian, he changed the temple’s name to “Puguang Wang Temple” (Temple of the King of Universal Light) and calligraphed a plaque to bestow upon the Master.

Later, when Master Sengjia passed away, according to his dying wishes, his true body was sent to Linhuai, where a pagoda was built to enshrine him.

The matter of Master Sengjia emitting a rare fragrance from the crown of his head is truly breathtaking, yet Wang Shizhen of the Qing Dynasty recounted his own personal experience in Chibei Outan. Wang Shizhen’s father fell dangerously ill due to excessive grief over the loss of his wife. While on his deathbed, his mouth and nose unexpectedly emitted

various fragrances such as sandalwood, lotus, and orchids, which did not dissipate for three days and three nights. His elder cousin’s husband was filial to his elders and loyal and reliable to his friends; he passed away during the Jiayin year of the Kangxi reign. When he was critically ill, his body also emitted a special fragrance.

(Song Dynasty, Li Fang, Taiping Guangji) (Qing Dynasty, Wang Shizhen, Chibei Outan)

Rapid Travel

During the Chenghua reign of the Ming Dynasty, there was a man named Zhang Cheng in Linqing Prefecture. This man was renowned far and wide for being as light as a swallow and able to walk as fast as if flying. It was said that he could travel five hundred li a day, and even a fast horse could not catch up with him. Whenever Zhang Cheng started walking, he felt as if wind was generating beneath his feet, and he could not stop even if he wanted to; he could only come to a halt by wrapping his arms around a large tree. Many people, seeing Zhang Cheng walk as fast as the wind, wanted to see exactly how his feet differed from those of an ordinary person. As a result, they discovered that his feet were covered with many long, fine hairs.

The story of Zhang Cheng’s exceptional walking ability soon reached the prefectural yamen. Coincidentally, the prefecture had an extremely urgent document that needed to be delivered to the capital with the utmost speed. Someone recommended Zhang Cheng, saying that only he was up to the task, so the Prefect gave the errand to him. Zhang Cheng set off that very night and smoothly returned to the prefecture on the evening of the seventh day. Seeing Zhang Cheng return in such a short time, the Prefect was both surprised and delighted; he knew that, normally, delivering a document to the capital and returning would take at least half a month, even at the fastest pace. Although he had traveled a very long distance there and back, the Prefect noticed that Zhang Cheng’s face showed no signs of fatigue. From then on, whenever the prefecture had an urgent document, they would dispatch Zhang Cheng to deliver it.

A Juren (provincial graduate) from Jiangsu was passing through Linqing Prefecture on business. The Prefect, having shared a deep friendship with him in the past, persuaded him to stay temporarily in Linqing. One day, this Juren casually mentioned that the pears from Xiao County were exceptionally delicious. Upon hearing this, the Prefect dispatched Zhang Cheng to find a way to go to Xiao County to buy some. Early the next morning, Zhang Cheng brought the pears. The Prefect suspected that he had bought them from a nearby local market and ordered someone to verify it; sure enough, they had been bought in Xiao County. Linqing Prefecture was over a hundred li away from Xiao County, yet Zhang Cheng had returned in only a single night.

During the Yuan Dynasty, there was a runner named Zhang Yan in Yancheng. He was delivering documents to the capital and encountered a man when he reached Songzhou. This man, learning that Zhang Yan was traveling the same route, asked to accompany him. After setting off the next day, Zhang Yan saw this man walking as fast as the wind, leaving Zhang Yan repeatedly stranded behind. After a full day’s journey, Zhang Yan was utterly exhausted; as soon as he collapsed in the inn, he could not bring himself to get back up. His traveling companion, however, remained full of energy, seemingly not feeling the slightest bit of fatigue. Zhang Yan found this exceedingly strange and inquired about the secret behind it. The man told him, “If you let me give you an acupuncture treatment, your walking speed can increase several fold, and you will be able to travel several hundred li a day.” He then dug two small pits in the ground, each five or six inches deep, and had Zhang Yan stand in the pits with his back facing him, his two heels suspended over the edges of the pits. Then he used needles to pierce Zhang Yan’s two feet, but Zhang Yan felt no pain at all. The man also repeatedly massaged Zhang Yan’s legs with his hands from below the knee down to the shin bone, and black blood filled a pit. The next day, when Zhang Yan walked, he clearly felt that his legs and feet were much lighter and swifter than before, and it was no longer so difficult to catch up with his traveling companion.

After walking for a morning, they arrived in Bianjing (Kaifeng), whereas normally it would have taken Zhang Yan

It took two days. After arriving in Bianjing, the companion was still full of enthusiasm and wanted to continue onward, but Zhang Yan said his physical strength was truly insufficient and he requested lodging in Bianjing to rest. The man then said further: “You can temporarily remove your kneecaps, and there will be no pain whatsoever. This will guarantee you can travel eight hundred li a day, and then you can walk as fast as I do.” When Zhang Yan heard about removing his kneecaps, he grew somewhat frightened and did not dare to agree. This companion did not press the matter, and simply said: “I still have business and must reach Shanzhou before nightfall, so I will go on ahead!” With that, he departed.

They saw this person walk as though flying, and in a moment he was gone from sight. After this experience, Zhang Yan’s walking speed became much faster than usual.

(Qing dynasty — Zhu Jiaxuan, Jianhaji Tang dynasty — Duan Chengshi, Youyang Zazu)

411

Gu Yuchuan

Gu Yuchuan lived in the eastern suburbs of the city. His eye sockets were deep-set, and his beard was stiff and bristly, standing upright like needle points, making him look like an immortal swordsman.

Gu Yuchuan had a bold and uninhibited personality. He was chivalrous in the cause of justice, generous in giving to others, and especially fond of wearing strange and unusual clothing. Because of this, wherever he went, children would follow and gather around to stare. He often wore clothing made of paper, which rustled as he walked. He frequently wore a hat made of paper with a perfectly square crown over three chi tall. Sometimes he would let his hair hang loose,

barefoot, walking along the road while singing. Sometimes he would bind his hair with a piece of silk, wear the clothing of a scholar-official, and carry an ancient cane of rattan on his shoulder, with a gourd hanging from the tip of the cane. This gourd was thicker than his body and taller than he was. When the wind blew, he and the gourd would topple over together. He would then slowly prop himself up with the rattan cane and start singing again as though nothing had happened. When crossing rivers, he never took a boat. Instead, he would straddle the gourd and use the rattan cane to paddle through the water. They could see him bobbing up and down on the water’s surface, and from a distance it looked as if he were swimming through ethereal, mist-like clouds.

When chatting with others, most of what Gu Yuchuan said dealt with bizarre and otherworldly matters without any factual basis, and people had no way to investigate their truth or falsehood. However, he could travel back and forth several hundred li in the space of a single moment, and what he saw and heard was indeed genuine and credible. When Gu Yuchuan was young, he once encountered a white-haired old man. This old man, seeing that his appearance was extraordinary and his temperament was different from ordinary people, transmitted to him the art of divine travel. From then on, he could travel as fast as in flight, and even to very distant places, he could arrive in a very short time. On one occasion, he had business in the capital and arrived after walking continuously for three days and three nights, whereas an ordinary person would probably need about half a month. Gu Yuchuan’s parents did not understand his art of divine travel and curiously asked what was going on. He told them the truth and presented them with grapes, rong fruit, and other items he had brought back tucked in his sleeves. When people learned of this, they all considered Gu Yuchuan an extraordinary person.

During the Tianqi and Chongzhen reigns of the Ming dynasty, Gu Yuchuan would go to the capital once or twice every month. During this time, he became acquainted with a man named Qian Zhongbo. One year, Qian Zhongbo placed third in the palace examination. Gu Yuchuan brought this good news back to his hometown and conveyed the news of Qian Zhongbo’s success to his family. The family was overjoyed upon learning of Qian Zhongbo’s examination success and immediately put up lanterns and decorations in celebration. Five or six days later, the official postal report carrying the examination results finally arrived. The postal courier had ridden at full gallop for seven days and seven nights to get there, yet to his bewilderment, a dazzling gold-lettered announcement of success was already pasted on the door of the Qian family. As a result, those who had come to deliver the glad tidings received no reward at all. Qian Zhongbo later told this story to princes and high officials. Everyone who had heard of Gu Yuchuan and his deeds considered it an honor to be able to make his acquaintance.

12

One time, people saw Gu Yuchuan returning from a long and distant journey. They saw him riding a white ox, draped in a garment woven from peacock feathers, wearing a bamboo hat as large as a wheel, and holding a fan made of palm leaves. Behind him followed a camel, carrying exotic flowers and rare grasses brought back from foreign lands. These plants grew vividly colorful and dazzlingly beautiful. The camel strode along with unhurried, large steps, looking like a moving mountain peak. The people of the city initially did not recognize the camel and crowded around to look, with many assuming it was some kind of monster. At the time, candidates from six commanderies were in the middle of an examination. When they saw Gu Yuchuan and the camel behind him, they all stared in astonishment with eyes wide and mouths agape. Suddenly, a man strode out proudly from the crowd. He wore paper clothing and a paper hat, and standing face to face with Gu Yuchuan, he clapped his hands and laughed heartily. Then he took hold of the camel, lifted the gourd from the camel’s back, and began walking, looking like a demon official driving away spirits at a funeral. Someone who recognized him said:

Extraordinary Endowments

“This is Zou Mianlü of Liangxi!” Gu Yuchuan was fond of strange and unusual things, and most of the people who associated with him were like this.

Gu Yuchuan often rode his camel traveling among the neighboring commanderies and counties. Because he had seen much and knew much, he could recount the local customs and practices of many places. Without exception, the faces of those who heard him speak showed expressions of longing. Once, when Gu Yuchuan reached the Piling relay station, the camel accidentally fell into an open-air latrine. He tried every possible method to pull it out but could not succeed. He had no choice but to dig open the edge of the latrine to get the camel out, but shortly after emerging, the camel died. Later, Gu Yuchuan went up Mount Hua in pursuit of the Way. People do not know what his ultimate fate was.

(Qing dynasty — Zhang Shanlai, Yuchu Xinzhi)

Ventriloquism

At the Court of Judicature and Revision there was an unusual monk. Though still young in years, he gave people the impression of being advanced in age and infirmity. His daily spiritual practice consisted solely of sitting quietly by himself. He rarely spoke to others and moved about even less. Whenever he sat in meditation, he would always lower his head, close his eyes, and appear as though peacefully asleep. For this reason, people all referred to him as “the Sleeping Monk.”

Speaking of the Sleeping Monk, there is an interesting story behind him. The Sleeping Monk was born into a scholarly family. His father was a man of considerable learning, and his mother was gentle

and wise. From a young age, the family hired a tutor to teach him to read and write, and to recite classical poetry. He was clever and sharp-witted, able to remember everything he read after a single glance. Everyone around him said that this child would surely achieve great things in the future.

However, no one could have anticipated that when the Sleeping Monk reached the age of seven or eight, human speech sounds would inexplicably begin emanating from his abdomen. One day, the Sleeping Monk felt a little hungry and wanted to ask for something to eat. Before he even opened his mouth, he suddenly heard from his belly the very words he was thinking: “I’m hungry, I want to eat!” Fortunately, no one else was around to hear it. On another occasion, while his tutor was guiding him in his studies, he felt a bit tired and wanted to ask the tutor’s permission to go play in the courtyard for a while. The moment this thought flashed through his mind, his belly immediately blurted out: “I’m tired, I want to go play in the courtyard!” The tutor stared blankly at the child. He could clearly see that the boy had not opened his mouth, yet he had distinctly heard an unfamiliar voice coming from the child’s direction. The Sleeping Monk felt extremely embarrassed at the time. He did not understand why his stomach could speak, and whatever he thought about, his belly would say aloud. When the Sleeping Monk’s parents learned of this matter, they were deeply distressed. They invited several well-known doctors, hoping to find out what illness their child had, but each time they were disappointed.

At first, the Sleeping Monk’s belly would only inadvertently speak once or twice a day, but as he grew older, by the time he reached twelve or thirteen, the frequency of the speech noticeably increased. Even when he tried to control it himself, it was of no use. By the time he reached seventeen or eighteen, the Sleeping Monk’s belly would often talk incessantly. Sometimes, when he sat with his tutor or with elders, his belly would suddenly utter a few words that made everyone squirm with discomfort. These words would either mock the tutor’s bald head or ridicule a guest’s clothes for being too peculiar. Sometimes he would be reading Confucian classics, yet his belly would blurt out highly irreverent remarks. Later, the situation grew even worse. Even during meals and sleep, it would not pause for a moment. What was most unbearable of all was that certain secret matters would be broadcast without any restraint by that “mouth” in his belly. Whenever this happened, he would feel deeply ashamed yet utterly helpless. And so, each day he had no choice but to shut himself away alone, not daring to interact with outsiders. His parents, seeing the symptoms worsen day by day with no sign of improvement, gradually grew cold

toward the Sleeping Monk.

Then suddenly, one day, a monk arrived at their home and said he could cure the belly-talking. The Sleeping Monk’s parents were overjoyed to hear this and immediately asked what medicinal prescription he would use. The monk replied that there was only one prescription: he must renounce the world and become a monk for the cure to work. The Sleeping Monk’s parents had no alternative, so they followed the monk’s instructions, shaved the boy’s head, and sent him to the Court of Judicature and Revision to become a monk.

After arriving at the Court of Judicature and Revision, the monk told him only one thing: “When all thoughts cease, the ventriloquism will naturally stop.” And so, the Sleeping Monk followed this instruction faithfully. Every day he persisted in sitting quietly, clearing away stray thoughts and casting off worldly troubles. Indeed, it proved remarkably effective. After just four or five days of sitting meditation, the voice from his belly diminished dramatically. Half a month later, it would only occasionally utter a sentence or two. After one month, his belly had essentially stopped speaking altogether. Several years passed, and the Sleeping Monk’s belly never spoke another word. But looking at the Sleeping Monk again, one could see that his appearance had become gaunt and haggard, his eyes devoid of spirit — this, perhaps, was the consequence of curing the affliction of ventriloquism.

(Qing Dynasty — Qingchengzi, “Zhiyi Dubian” [Supplement to Records of the Strange])

Drawing Portraits from Memory

After Hou Yue was appointed Investigating Censor, he could not help but sigh with admiration that the elderly man was indeed a person of extraordinary ability. Not only had the old man given him the ability to never forget a face and to capture both the form and spirit of a person in painting, but he had also accurately predicted that Hou would one day hold an illustrious position.

Hou Yue was a native of Dong’e County in Shandong. In his youth, his family was poor, and the entire household subsisted on just a few meager acres of land. Though born into a poor family, he had fine, clear-cut features and a dignified bearing. Despite his young age, he was reasonable and perceptive, with extraordinary insight. His father

His mother showed him exceptional affection, letting him study reading and writing, and compose poetry and essays from a young age. In his spare time from studying, this Hou Yue was very interested in painting. Whenever he had time, he would scribble randomly, and his parents never restricted him.

One day, Hou Yue went to visit an ancient temple. Seeing that the temple was surrounded by mountains on three sides and water on one, with a magnificent structure and exceptionally quiet surroundings, he felt a sudden impulse and took out paper and a pen to paint.

Just as he was painting with total immersion, a loud laugh suddenly came from behind him. He turned his head and saw it was an elderly man. He saw that this elderly man had a lean face, completely white hair and beard, and held a walking stick in his hand, looking at him with a smile. Seeing that the young man had noticed him, the elderly man stepped forward, took the unfinished painting from Hou Yue’s hands, examined it for a moment, nodded thoughtfully, and then took his hand and said: “If you were to have another set of bones added, you will possess a special ability, and you will certainly hold a prominent position in the future.” Saying this, the elderly man opened Hou Yue’s inner garment and seemed to put something into his body. Hou Yue felt a slight pain, and it took a long time for this sensation to disappear.

Hou Yue asked the elderly man where he lived, so that he could visit him for advice in the future, but the man just smiled and did not answer. Hou Yue had no choice but to watch the elderly man slowly walk away. From then on, Hou Yue’s painting skills suddenly improved. Compared to before, his paintings had reached a state where both form and spirit were captured, which was especially prominent in figure portraits. Furthermore, what surprised even Hou Yue himself was that his memory was many times stronger than before. After casually meeting a stranger once, he could paint their appearance true to life, and even if decades passed, that person’s appearance would remain exceptionally clear in his mind.

That year, he went to the capital to take the imperial examination. There were three hundred candidates taking the exam together, and Hou Yue only met them once. After the exam ended, he painted portraits of these three hundred people one by one and placed them in a small box. When his friends saw these paintings, they could not help but marvel repeatedly. They saw that these paintings had different images and varied expressions; looking at the appearance of the figures in some paintings, one could even perceive their psychological state. After many years, whenever Hou Yue met the scholars who had taken the exam with him, he recognized every single one, whereas these scholars had no impression of Hou Yue at all.

After Hou Yue passed the examination and became a Jinshi, he was appointed to an official position and granted a noble title, and was highly valued. One year, he asked for a leave of absence

to return home to visit his family and friends. Unexpectedly, on his way home, he was kidnapped by a group of bandits and held hostage. Having no other choice, Hou Yue had to let his entourage return and sell his family property to ransom him, while he sat on rocks, chatting and laughing with the bandits. Within a few days, the bandits gradually became familiar with him, and asked him: “If you become an official, how would you deal with people like us?” Hou Yue replied with a hint of sympathy: “If such things happened in a prosperous year, the law would certainly punish them strictly without pardon. But if it is a barren year, and people are driven by hunger and cold, and the officials provide no relief, doing this just to survive, how can you be the only ones blamed?” Hearing this, the bandits all fell silent. They looked at each other and sighed, then knelt on the ground to bow to Hou Yue. After the ransom was delivered, Hou Yue was released. He was not depressed at all, and rode his horse home humming a little tune. Within two days, based on his memory, he painted the clothes and appearances of the bandits and gave them to the officials. The officials immediately searched for the bandits based on the portraits. Within a few days, all these men were captured.

Because Hou Yue was good at managing discipline and had notable political achievements, he later became an Assistant Censor-in-Chief. Just as the elderly man had predicted, he finally attained an enviable official position.

(Guo · Shi Guozhi’s Runzhuang Xiaopin)

The Strongman

San Dou Han was from Guangdong. Because he could eat three dou of millet every meal, everyone called him “San Dou Han”. San Dou Han’s family was poor since he was a child, and life was difficult, but he was born with a robust physique. His appetite and strength were several times greater than those of children his age. When he was in his teens, his parents passed away one after another. San Dou Han barely managed to survive by relying on the charity of his neighbors. As he grew older, his appetite grew larger and larger. The neighbors really could not afford to provide for him anymore. Moreover, he was as strong as an ox and often provoked trouble; therefore, the neigh-

bors gradually distanced themselves from him. Due to a lack of restraint and no one to discipline him, he developed bad habits of idling away his time and not engaging in honest work. By the time he was twenty, San Dou Han had grown broad-shouldered and round-waisted, a full zhang tall, and his strength was incomparable to anyone. However, he still did not like to work, and just wandered the streets every day.

One day, San Dou Han wandered to Huizhou. He spent half a day in the bustling market, and at noon he suddenly felt empty in his stomach, but had no money to buy food. He thought it over and over but had absolutely no solution. Finally, when he arrived outside the military governor’s gate and saw two stone lions placed on either side of the main door, his eyes suddenly lit up. He thought to himself, why not show off his strength here? Perhaps someone would toss a few copper coins as alms, and then he wouldn’t have to go hungry today. At this time, outside the military governor’s gate, there was a constant stream of carriages and horses, with people coming and going. They saw San Dou Han stand outside the gate,

Collection of Extraordinary Abilities

cup his hands in greeting to the passersby, and then open his thunderous voice and say to the crowd: “Brothers, in a moment I, San Dou Han, will lift these two stone lions by the gate at the same time for you all. I hope everyone will bestow a few copper coins so I can buy a meal.” Hearing this, the passersby swarmed over to stop and watch. They saw that he was indeed exceptionally tall and massive, unlike an ordinary person; but looking at the two large stone lions placed by the gate made one shudder even more. Each stone lion weighed at least a thousand jin. Even if more than ten people exerted their strength together, they might not be able to move them. Many people concluded that San Dou Han was just speaking nonsense and teasing the passersby. At this time, a few meddlesome young men asked San Dou Han in a mocking tone to lift one stone lion first to show everyone. San Dou Han was clearly enraged. They saw him gather his breath, walk up to one stone lion, grab its front leg, squat down, and lift upward. The stone lion was then suspended in mid-air. While the crowd was marveling, San Dou Han lifted the other stone lion, and then walked a circle in front of the crowd. The young men and passersby were stunned by this scene. Thinking that this man must be an extraordinary master from beyond this world, they threw money and items in front of San Dou Han one after another.

The commotion outside the military governor’s gate alerted the Governor inside the mansion. He heard that a man had effortlessly lifted the stone lion outside the mansion’s gate and was deeply astonished, so…

he had a subordinate summon San Dou Han into the prefectural residence. When San Dou Han appeared before the Provincial Commander, the latter was even more astonished, for San Dou Han still carried two stone lions in his hands, his complexion unchanged and his expression perfectly at ease. The Commander now wanted to see just how much strength he truly possessed, and a sudden whim struck him. He ordered his men to select five sturdy oxen, harness them together, and have San Dou Han hold the crossbar from behind. They then whipped the oxen vigorously to drive them forward. The five oxen strained with all their might to gallop ahead, but with San Dou Han dragging from behind, they could only struggle desperately in place. Seeing this, the Commander was so stunned he was speechless. He ordered his men to prepare a meal for San Dou Han and suggested he remain in the army to train in the martial arts. San Dou Han devoured the food in a few swift mouthfuls, then dropped to his knees before the Commander with a thud and pleaded: “This humble man needs three dou of grain per meal. Please double my rations!” The Commander readily agreed.

From then on, San Dou Han served as a warrior in the army. Because he was tall and massive, none of the fine horses in the army could withstand his weight. As soon as he mounted a horse, it would struggle desperately and throw him off. Though San Dou Han possessed enormous strength, he was clumsy when it came to shooting arrows and rarely hit the target. As time went on, he felt stifled and always remained gloomy, eventually having no choice but to leave the army.

After leaving the army, San Dou Han resumed his former wandering life. One day he arrived in Chaozhou, right when the eastern gate of Chaozhou city was undergoing repairs to Xiangzi Bridge. The maintenance project was enormous; laborers bustled back and forth in great commotion. The stone blocks used for building the bridge were over three zhang long, one and a half chi in both width and thickness. The laborers had set up scaffolding, and dozens of men shouting work chants still could not get the stone blocks up onto the bridge. San Dou Han stepped forward and watched coolly for a long while. Finally, he said in a mocking tone: “So many of you are exhausted and dripping with sweat—can it be that you can’t even get a single stone block up there?” The laborers were angered by San Dou Han’s words and immediately retorted, telling him to try it himself. San Dou Han said nothing. He told the laborers to stop working and stand to one side, then single-handedly lifted a stone block, gave a kick, and sent it up onto the bridge deck. Seeing this, the crowd was so astonished that they stood speechless for a long while. The Xiangzi Bridge originally had several hundred arches; by the xinmao year, three arches had already collapsed. The Prefectural Deputy, Lord Fan, donated

funds and advocated for its rebuilding. On this day, seeing that San Dou Han alone could effortlessly get the stone blocks onto the bridge deck, he dismissed the surplus laborers and assigned San Dou Han exclusively to this task. Within a few days, all the stone blocks had been transported. The Prefectural Deputy Lord Fan saw that it not only saved labor but also saved time. In a moment of delight, he rewarded him with a great deal of money. However, San Dou Han lived without restraint, and within a month, the reward money in his hands had been completely spent.

The San Dou Han described above possessed matchless strength and astonished all who saw him. As it happens, the Qin Da Han to be discussed below was similarly possessed of boundless strength.

The Qin Da Han was named Qin Guangfu. He was thickset and burly, with a swarthy complexion and curly hair, looking like someone of northern ethnic minority origin. Once, he went to the market to sell sorghum stalks. An ordinary person could carry only two bundles on a shoulder pole, but he carried forty bundles at once. When he walked through the street carrying the sorghum stalks, many people thought a stack of sorghum was moving by itself. One day, after a long period of rain, a large cart in the market was stuck in the mud and could not budge. Three oxen gave it their all but still could not pull it out, and the cart owner was truly at his wits’ end. Just then, Qin Da Han happened to pass by. The cart owner begged him for help. He saw him lead the oxen to one side, then with just one hand pull the cart out of the mud.

In the thirteenth year of the Kangxi reign, a war was underway at the time, and an official came in person to garrison Jingzhou City. People saw that Qin Da Han had matchless strength and recommended him to the army. The official saw that Qin Da Han did indeed have an extraordinary physique and bearing, but his clothing was tattered, so he bestowed a robe upon him. This robe used twelve bolts of cloth, yet it still could not cover his lower legs. Qin Da Han’s feet were one chi and four cun long; stood upright, his boots were as tall as a dining table. Once in battle, even the sturdiest mules and horses could not carry the blades and spears he needed to use, so he often felt unable to put his skills to use. Thus, people found him a camel and forged a fifteen-kilogram iron spear for him, and only then was he satisfied. Every time he went into battle, as long as he appeared at the front of the ranks, the enemy commanders would all be awestruck at the sight of him, and the soldiers under them would be so timid they dared not advance. Therefore, every campaign returned victorious without needing to engage in combat. However, because

Qin Da Han was tall and large in stature, he could not adapt to prolonged rapid-movement warfare. In the end, he insisted on retiring and returning home, and later died of illness in his hometown.

(Qing dynasty — Yuan Mei, Zi Bu Yu, etc.)

Clairvoyant Eyes

People noticed that from some unknown day onward, Zeng Guang kept his right eye tightly shut, unwilling to open it casually. Some thought he had an eye ailment, but in fact there was nothing wrong with his eye at all. Some, out of curiosity, asked Zeng Guang why he refused to open his right eye. Zeng Guang replied teasingly: “I’m afraid that if I open it, I’ll see other people’s livers and lungs.” Those who pressed him further thought he was joking and stopped pursuing the matter.

One day, someone was digging a well at the east gate of the city. They had already dug quite

deep, they still had not found the spring. The well diggers were exhausted and thoroughly disheartened, no longer wanting to dig any deeper. It so happened that Zeng Guang was passing by. He glanced into the well and said to them: “Dig one more foot and water will come out.” The diggers did not believe him at first, but when they saw that Zeng Guang had a serious expression and did not appear to be speaking idly or talking nonsense, they roused their spirits and resumed digging. Just as Zeng Guang had said, after digging only one foot, they found a very large spring. Seeing the well water gushing forth, the diggers shouted with joy. To express their gratitude to Zeng Guang, they specially named this well the “Zeng Guang Well.” After this incident spread, everyone marveled at Zeng Guang’s extraordinary eyesight. Previously, Zeng Guang had often been subjected to ridicule and mockery, but from then on, people regarded him in an entirely new light.

Zeng Guang was a native of Jining in Shandong. His father died when he was young, so he had only his mother to rely on. Because the family was poor, his mother was constantly preoccupied with making a living and thus neglected his upbringing, causing him to be lazy in his studies from childhood and even more unwilling to do manual labor. Even at seventeen or eighteen, he had not mastered any trade or skill; he simply wandered about idly every day, doing nothing. Some people could not bear to see this and frequently mocked and ridiculed him, but he would often just laugh it off, never taking it to heart. At the age of twenty, through a matchmaker’s arrangement, he married a girl from a poor family. The girl was exceedingly ugly in appearance, yet Zeng Guang was devotedly fond of her.

From childhood, Zeng Guang had been fond of roaming about, and this habit never changed as he grew older. He often liked to wander freely through ruined temples and open wilderness, sometimes not returning home for several days. By a curious coincidence, one day he was sunning himself outside a dilapidated monastery when he suddenly saw a white-bearded Daoist priest wearing a yellow hat approaching from a distance. The priest held his head high and had broad shoulders, yet his height was less than three feet. On his back he carried over a dozen gourds strung together, swaying back and forth behind him. When Zeng Guang saw the priest approaching, he quietly hid behind a broken wall. When the priest reached a large tree by the roadside, he appeared somewhat fatigued. He set down the gourds, yawned, and then fell asleep using one of the gourds as a pillow. Before long, his snoring came rumbling like thunder. Seeing that the priest had fallen fast asleep, Zeng Guang stealthily approached him, picked up one gourd, and weighed it in his hand — it felt heavy. He opened the lid and tried to pour out the contents, wanting to see what was stored

inside, but despite pouring with all his might for a long while, nothing came out. Feeling rather puzzled, he brought the mouth of the gourd close to his right eye, wanting to see what was actually inside. To his surprise, the moment his eye approached the mouth of the gourd, he immediately felt a blast of cold air penetrate from his eye socket straight to the bottom of his heart, and tears began to stream forth uncontrollably. At this point, the Daoist priest was awakened. He said angrily: “You have let escape a whole gourd of my immortal breath! What do you say to that!” Faced with the priest’s reproach, Zeng Guang could only rub his eyes with his hand and then stand there foolishly grinning at the priest. Seeing this, the priest’s anger turned to joy, and he said: “Fortunately, you are an honest and sincere person — this too is your destined affinity. Otherwise, I would certainly have had to gouge out your eyes. However, from now on, you absolutely must not use your eyes to commit any reckless or wrongful deeds!” After saying this, the priest stood up, hoisted his large string of goulls onto his back, and walked away. After the priest had gone far away, Zeng Guang suddenly felt that his right eye seemed different from before. When he took a step forward, he nearly collapsed to the ground. He felt that his right eye was like lightning — when he looked at things underground, it was as though he were looking through glass, seeing straight to the bottom without any obstruction. Walking through the streets, the moment he opened his right eye to look at other people’s houses, he could see all sorts of objects inside, even extremely precious treasures. When someone passed in front of him, he only had to open his right eye to see their internal organs. Therefore, to avoid constantly seeing such things and disrupting his vision, Zeng Guang simply kept his right eye shut. Although he could at all times see underground treasures and valuable objects, he always kept firmly in mind that Daoist priest’s admonition. He turned a blind eye to such things and was even less willing to tell others about them, including his own wife.

One day, Zeng Guang passed through a deep mountain. By chance, beneath a tall, large rock, he found a stone casket. He took it out and opened it, and inside were several scrolls of ancient books. He took them and studied them on his own. Before long, he had mastered the methods of breathing and meditation and the refining of lead cinnabar elixirs. Thereafter, he also used some unusual methods to treat people’s illnesses. He would often mix saliva with mud from his feet to make pills for people to swallow. At first, people refused to take them, but when someone reluctantly swallowed one, they all came to believe in the wondrous efficacy of the pills.

Although Zeng Guang’s family was not wealthy, he and his wife lived a very happy life together. Zeng Guang’s wife had feet so large that they were fully a foot long. Once, she happened to pass by a shop that sold bowls.

The shopkeeper deliberately splashed water onto the road, making it difficult for her to pass through. His wife walked with great care for a long time before she finally made her way across. The people in the shop immediately burst into laughter behind her, joking that her big feet had carried her across like a boat. After returning home, his wife told Zeng Guang about the incident in shame. Zeng Guang considered this an insult to his wife. He found a large rabbit and had his wife hide it in her sleeve. The next day, when she passed by that shop again, she released the rabbit and then waved her hand to set a dog chasing after it. The dog chased the rabbit into the shop and smashed many articles. The people in the shop knew in their hearts that this was Zeng Guang’s doing, so they begged him to put a stop to it, and only then did he call off the dog. When the shopkeeper sadly turned back to look at the shattered wares, he was astonished to find that all the articles were sitting there intact and undamaged. The shopkeeper never figured out how this could have happened.

(Qing Dynasty — Pu Shijia, Xiaodou Gai)

Distinguishing Objects by Touch

In the last years of the Tianqi reign of the Ming Dynasty, the commander stationed at Shangdang was Yang Zhaoji, who was greatly favored by the emperor. The emperor enfeoffed him as Lord Taichu. Lord Yang was very fond of recruiting extraordinary talents and unusual scholars. Anyone in the martial world who possessed special abilities, he would take into his service as a retainer. Among his staff was a man named Sun Wushi who could read books and recognize characters whether or not he used his eyes. During the day, he used his eyes to read in the sunlight — this was nothing remarkable. However, in the pitch-dark night, without the slightest glimmer of light, he could also read documents and recite them aloud for

people to hear. Lord Yang once asked him how he could read books and recognize characters in the dark of night. Sun Wuwu replied:

“I possess no extraordinary talent. I merely touch the books and characters with my fingers, and I can know what is written. I have not used any superhuman method; I have simply been very fortunate to receive the appreciation of Lord Yang Taichu!”

When Lord Yang heard this, he was overjoyed. Yet who could truly know what strange method he had actually mastered?

Perhaps Sun Wuwu employed trickery to win Lord Yang’s trust, but if a truly blind person can distinguish objects, how should that be explained?

In Chuzhou during the Song dynasty, there was a man named Wei Pu. As a child, he contracted a serious illness and nearly lost his life. Though he survived, his eyes were permanently blinded. As if misfortune never comes singly, his parents then passed away one after another. Wei Pu was left utterly alone and destitute, lodging in a temple in Beishen Town. Though his eyes could not see, his will was resolute despite his disability. He often humbly sought instruction from others. He would ask people to read books aloud to him rapidly, and regardless of the book, after listening he could comprehend the profound principles within and grasp the meaning of the entire work — and he would never forget it. He also asked people to tell him stories, and from these he composed chant-and-narrative verses, performing storytelling for audiences to earn money and sustain himself. The people all around loved to hear his stories, so everyone liked him and admired his resilience. Kind-hearted people often brought him clothes and food to help him out, and thus his livelihood had some guarantee.

Perhaps it was precisely because he was blind that he possessed abilities no one could have anticipated. A group of friends once invited him to drink and make merry together. During the gathering, someone proposed playing pitch-pot² for drinks. Everyone assumed Wei Pu would not participate, but he insisted on competing with them all. They saw his ears twitch and quiver as he held arrows and pitched them into the pot. From time to time he displayed such superb techniques as “leaning on the sword,” “resting on the pole,” and “the wolf pot.” In no time at all, he had won a great many counters. He arranged the counters in order on the table, ran his hand over them once briefly, and then asked no further questions, continuing to enjoy himself. One person wanted to test just how good Wei Pu’s senses really were, so he stealthily took away one of Wei Pu’s counters. But before he had even pulled it out, Wei Pu laughed and asked him to put it back. Whatever Wei Pu could do for himself, he never needed anyone else’s help. He was fully capable of distinguishing things through touch, so he could manage many matters on his own. What struck people as strange, however, was that when he went to the market to shop and select goods, he could distinguish genuine from fake, good from

bad, without the slightest effort, and without being off by even a hair or a fraction. One time, he went to the market to buy things, and he came to a stall and began carefully selecting his purchases. He set aside the flawless goods with perfect accuracy, while tossing the defective ones aside. Seeing that Wei Pu was blind, the stall owner thought to take advantage of his lack of sight and cheat him. He said, “It must be inconvenient for you to pick things out — why don’t I help you?” So saying, he tried to slip one of the items Wei Pu had rejected back into the pile of selected goods. Wei Pu immediately grabbed the hand that held the item and said angrily: “Don’t try to cheat me with what I’ve thrown away!” This stunned both the stall owner and the people around. From then on, no one at the market dared to cheat him anymore. But come to think of it, it is truly strange — since Wei Pu was blind, on what basis could he perform so miraculously?

Records of Remarkable Hearing

(Source: Qing dynasty — Yu Yue, Chaxiangshi Congchao)

Whistling

Ancient China produced an endless succession of extraordinary figures, and people of consummate skill were beyond counting. There were also many who excelled at the art of whistling (in ancient times, whistling through the mouth was called xiao). According to records, the finest whistler of antiquity was Sun Deng. Sun Guang, a pingshi (judicial officer) from Dali in Yunnan, even wrote a book called Xiao Zhi (The Essence of Whistling), which recorded a great many names for different types of whistling — for example, “Flowing Clouds and Dragon’s Hum,” “Deep Valley Tiger’s Roar,” “Tall Willow Cicada’s Song,” “Ancient Tree Kite’s Cry,” “Witch’s Gorge Ape’s Call,” and so forth. Regrettably, the book did not record the actual methods of whistling. By the Qing dynasty,

Wang of Luoxia and Li of Zhaoyang were considered the finest whistlers of their time. But in Shezhou there lived an old man whose whistling technique was exceptionally superb, with tremendous power. The sound of his whistling could change the color of wind and clouds and shake the mountains — Wang of Luoxia and the others were absolutely no match for him.

This old man’s name was Zhu Jing. Because he excelled at whistling and was also the oldest person in his locality, people respectfully called him “Old Man Whistler” (Xiao Weng). Old Man Whistler was versatile in many arts and generous in giving to those in need. He was expert in medicine and frequently treated people’s illnesses and prepared medicines for them. His skill in ink-and-wash painting was also often praised. Perhaps because of his talent for whistling, his ability to sing and chant was also beyond what ordinary people could compare with. Although he was already very advanced in years, once he lifted his voice in song, the beautiful melodies would linger around the rafters for three days without fading from the ear. What Old Man Whistler loved most was still whistling. On clear nights, he would often climb alone to a mountain peak. Beneath a sky full of stars, facing the gentle evening breeze, looking out over the vast expanse of the land, he would whistle with the breath from deep within his chest, producing sounds of profound, resonant beauty. One could hear that ringing tone echoing through the deep mountain valleys. The whistling made the forest trees tremble, startled the roosting birds into frantic flight, and sent the wolves, tigers, leopards, and other beasts of the mountain fleeing in all directions. When the whistling sound reached the mountain villages, it startled people from their sleep, and those who had not yet retired for the night were so frightened by the whistling that they shivered and trembled, unable to sit still, with no heart for sleep. Everyone felt as though the sky were about to collapse and the earth to cave in — as if doomsday had arrived. It was only when dawn began to break in the east and no disaster had occurred that people went about asking one another in alarm what had happened the previous night. When Old Man Whistler appeared before the crowd, they suddenly understood — it was Old Man Whistler whistling!

Old Man Whistler’s extraordinary whistling skill, according to him, had been taught to him in his childhood by a whistling immortal. Combined with his diligent practice and training, he had achieved his present level of mastery. He could whistle the sounds of a chorus of a hundred birds — including luan birds, immortal cranes, and phoenixes — all singing together. Once, he whistled a chorus of a hundred birds at his home. Before long, all kinds of brilliantly colored birds flew in from every direction, gathering in the sky above Old Man Whistler’s house, circling and soaring, singing out in unison, like a beautiful melody. The hundred birds were reluctant to leave for a long time, and the scene was unprecedented and never to be repeated — truly a magnificent sight. Old Man Whistler could also use his whistling to imitate the deep rumble of the dragon, the king of aquatic creatures. One time, the old man was drinking with friends, and in his high spirits he inadvertently became drunk and collapsed by the bank of the Yangtze River. Lying there by the riverbank, he casually let out a few long, sustained dragon cries. Before long

…while on the Yangtze River, waves rolled and dark clouds loomed. They saw countless fish and shrimp, large and small, cutting through the waves as they swam toward Old Man Xiao. Giant fish, soft-shell turtles, and crabs also bobbed amid the surging waters. It turned out that upon hearing the dragon’s roar produced by Old Man Xiao’s whistling, they believed the Dragon King was summoning them, and so they all surged forth from the river to pay homage. Old Man Xiao’s art had truly reached the realm of divine mastery and wondrous transformation.

One autumn, he and over a dozen friends—including the woodcutter of Mount Huanghe, the blind man of Tiandu, fishermen from the Xiao and Xiang rivers, and General Hutou—agreed to climb Ping Mountain to view the autumn scenery. After their excursion, they went to the Liuyi Tower to drink and make merry, renewing old friendships. Against the backdrop of autumn colors blanketing the mountains, they exchanged toasts and raised their cups in shared joy—a uniquely delightful experience. After several rounds of wine, they decided to each perform their signature skill to enliven the gathering. As the saying goes, “Things gather by kind, and people divide by group.” Thus, those who befriended Old Man Xiao were no ordinary figures either.

Entering Transformation and Transcendence

They came from all corners of the realm, each possessing extraordinary skills. The woodcutter of Mount Huanghe’s exquisite flute playing was considered peerless, and the blind man of Tiandu’s stone-throwing to shoot down birds was unmatched by anyone… Old Man Xiao’s friends all performed one by one at the banquet. Finally, it was Old Man Xiao’s turn, but he smiled and shook his head, saying, “I truly must apologize to everyone. I am advanced in years and have lost most of my teeth, so my notes are no longer accurate and fall far short of what they once were. Therefore, I cannot perform for you all.” The gathering erupted in protest. General Hutou rose and said, “Old Man Xiao! We old friends have not gathered together for a long time. Drinking and reminiscing here today is truly a rare opportunity. Each of us is showing off our skills to add to the merriment, all out of sheer delight. Besides, we all greatly admire and revere your peerless whistling art. Our performances just now were merely casting a brick to attract jade. Everyone is now waiting for you.” The crowd agreed in unison and urged Old Man Xiao one after another with this and that remark to perform. Seeing such earnest enthusiasm, Old Man Xiao rose to his feet, clasped his hands in greeting, and said, “I never expected such generous affection from you, my friends. Then I shall make a fool of myself.” The banquet instantly fell silent.

Old Man Xiao began to whistle, breathing in gently and exhaling slowly. At first, what reached everyone’s ears was the sound of an iron echoing through the mountain valleys—the melody was prolonged and graceful, resonating through deep ravines and soothing the heart. Then the whistling shifted, sounding like an immortal crane craning its neck to call out toward the heavens. That sound pierced the clouds, making people feel as though immortals were approaching riding on cranes—was not that earlier flute melody played by immortals themselves? Suddenly, Old Man Xiao forcefully whistled toward the east, and a fierce gust of wind came blasting from the west, blowing the sky into a dusky yellow, dark and sunless. The coarse grass on the hillside was blown every which way, tangling into clumps. Trees rustled loudly, swaying restlessly. The doors and windows of the Liuyi Tower were also blown

rattling, banging open and shut, and the entire building seemed to be shaking. Everyone involuntarily gripped the tables and chairs, their expressions shifting from calm composure to nervous tension. Old Man Xiao paid no attention to any of this, and instead suddenly turned his head toward the west. Instantly, another gust of wind came blasting from the east, howling and surging, even fiercer and more violent than the previous one. For a moment, the two powerful winds from east and west collided, and a deafening, heart-rending explosion shook the heavens. It was as though two great armies had clashed in battle. The thundering footsteps of thousands upon thousands of charging horses and soldiers, the metallic clatter of weapons striking, the neighing of warhorses, the battle cries of soldiers, the howls of the wounded, the beating of war drums, and the blare of horns—all intertwined together. Everyone present hastily stood up, craning their necks to peer out the windows, truly believing that an army of thousands was battling right there!

As time went on, the forceful whistling shook the roof tiles loose and sent them flying, and the mountain forest trees seemed about to be uprooted entirely. After roughly the time it takes to burn one stick of incense, the whistling abruptly ceased. Everyone suddenly snapped back from their tension and looked together at Old Man Xiao,

Extraordinary Abilities

only to find him collapsed on the ground, his energy utterly spent and exhausted. Everyone was greatly alarmed and hurriedly lifted Old Man Xiao, fetched clear water, and slowly poured it into his mouth. After quite a while, he finally regained consciousness, and only then did everyone’s hearts settle. They asked with concern, “Why did you go to such lengths, Old Man Xiao? If you had only used a small portion of your breath to whistle, we would have been perfectly satisfied.” Old Man Xiao smiled and said, “When a person does something, they should do it to perfection. That is simply my way. Since I was performing the art of whistling for you, how could I not give it my all? Whistling has been the great love of my entire life. Just now, I was completely immersed in it. Even if I were to die here today, I would not have a single regret.” Everyone fell silent upon hearing this, each seemingly deep in thought.

Outside the window, the moon had already risen.

(Qing dynasty — Chen Ding, Yu Chu Xin Zhi; Qing dynasty — Wang Shizhen, Chi Bei Ouyu Tan)

An Imperishable Dharma Body

Between the two places of Xiangfu and Zhongmu, there was a Water Moon Convent. In the convent lived an eminent monk whose surname was Ping and whose dharma name was Danru. He passed away at the age of eighty-five. The day before his passing, Danru instructed his disciple, saying: “After I die, place my body in a Buddhist shrine. Open the shrine after three years to have a look. If the body has decayed, then burn it; if the body is whole and undamaged, someone will surely come to change my clothes for me. You must remember this.” His grand-disciple Jifeng was also a monk who had attained the Way, and he faithfully honored his late master’s words.

Three years later, the Buddhist shrine was opened on schedule. Danru was seen sitting upright inside the shrine, his eyebrows and eyes compassionate and lifelike. Upon touching it with a hand, his clothes had all turned into dust and scattered profusely; upon touching the body again, it was found to be as hard as iron and stone, producing a clanging metallic sound when knocked upon. When word of this spread, people from near and far all vied to come and see it, crowding the Shuiyue Nunnery like a marketplace. It happened that Magistrate Han of Zhongmu County came to visit. Seeing Danru’s flesh body, he was greatly astonished, thinking to himself: “Last night I dreamed of this Master, who asked me for over five hundred taels of silver to buy a monastic patchwork robe. Why would buying a single patchwork robe require so much silver? Perhaps it was to buy gold to coat the flesh body, in order to display an incorruptible body.” Thinking of this, Magistrate Han suddenly saw the light. He hastily summoned an artisan and asked him how much money it would take to coat Danru’s flesh body with gold. The artisan calculated for a moment and said it would require a little over five hundred taels of silver. Only then was the Magistrate completely convinced, and he told the artisan to immediately take the money and carry it out, applying a gold coating to Danru. To this day, the golden statue remains in the nunnery, and an endless stream of male and female believers come to burn incense and worship. A soldier, doubting that the statue was a flesh body, quietly sneaked into the Buddhist hall and pierced the statue’s arm with a knife. Fresh blood immediately flowed out continuously from the knife wound. The soldier trembled all over with fear, quickly crawled on the ground to worship and repent, and hastily applied gold to the knife wound, but the wound ultimately failed to heal. The monks in the nunnery, fearing that such things would happen again, put a lock on the shrine, and only opened it for viewing when they encountered someone who was extremely sincere.

Another temple called Changshou Temple also experienced this kind of situation. In Changshou Temple, there was a monk named Jisheng. From a young age, he was wholly devoted to the Buddha and became a monk. He was extremely loyal to Buddhist affairs and also well-versed in Buddhist studies. In middle age, he suddenly contracted a minor illness and said to his master, Shilian: “I am going to die. In twenty years, I will come back to help you revive the Feilai Temple. When the time comes, I hope you can let my bones be buried in a pagoda.” Shilian agreed to him, and the monk Jisheng passed away. From the year of Xinyou to the intercalary fifth month of the year of Jiaxu, almost twenty years had passed. This year, floods ran rampant, soaking the Buddhist shrine containing the monk Jisheng’s bones. Shilian and the others wanted to cremate the monk Jisheng’s bones. The monk Jisheng then appeared in a dream to Shilian, saying that his flesh body had not yet rotted from the soaking, and that this was an auspicious sign for the temple. All the monks in the temple had this dream. Everyone found it strange. Under Shilian’s leadership, they opened the shrine containing Jisheng’s bones, and saw Jisheng’s face was dignified, as if he were alive

and well. Thus, the monks built a Bumei Hall to the west of Changshou Temple to enshrine the monk Jisheng’s flesh body. In the eighth month of the year of Wuyin, people went to Bumei Hall to gaze and worship, and they could still see the monk Jisheng’s long beard flowing, his teeth white and lips red, sitting upright on a woven rush mat, no different from a monk in samadhi.

(Qing Dynasty - Niu Xiu’s Gou Teng) S

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The Sharp Sword

When Li Gan was serving as the Prefect of Jingzhao, one year in the Qujiang area there was no rain through spring and summer. The crops withered, the land cracked, and the people grew restless. Li Gan followed the advice of an elder and had someone paint a giant dragon, intending to personally preside over a ceremony to pray to Heaven for rain.

On the day of the ceremony, the onlookers were densely packed and bustling—numbering in the thousands. When the ceremony began, Li Gan walked solemnly to the altar. At this point, the common people quickly scattered and made way, forming a clear path of their own accord. However, an old man leaning on

a walking cane stood completely motionless, as if he had not noticed the Prefect’s arrival at all. Li Gan was furious at the sight and immediately ordered the old man to be seized and given twenty strokes of the cane in public. Strangely, when the rods struck the old man’s body forcefully, they bounced back as if hitting a drum. Looking again at the old man, they saw him lying face down on the ground as if nothing had happened, with not the slightest expression of pain. After the beating, the old man slowly rose to his feet, brushed the dust from his backside, and with a wave of his hand, departed. All who witnessed this scene clicked their tongues in amazement. Li Gan also suspected that this old man was no ordinary person, and he immediately ordered a veteran soldier to quietly follow behind him. After the old man reached Lanling Ward, he entered through a small gate. They heard the old man say loudly: “I suffered great humiliation today. Quickly prepare some hot water for me.” The veteran soldier rushed back to the yamen and reported the matter to Prefect Li.

Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities

From the moment he had beaten the old man, Li Gan had been deeply afraid. Upon hearing the veteran soldier’s report, he immediately threw an old set of clothes over his official robes and, together with the soldier, found the old man’s residence. By then it was already dark. The soldier went straight inside and announced Li Gan’s official rank and identity. Li Gan entered respectfully, knelt on the ground, and said: “Today I judged a person by appearance and gave great offense. My crime deserves ten thousand deaths.” The old man rose in surprise and said: “Who guided you here?” With that, he invited Li Gan into the room. Seeing that the old man’s manner was mild and that he could be reasoned with, Li Gan said to him: “In serving as Prefect, if I were to lose even a little of my authority, I would lose my reputation. You concealed your true nature and mingled among the crowd—unless one had discerning eyes, no one could have recognized you. If you were to blame me for this matter, it would be like using improper means to lead me into wrongdoing, which would be immoral.” Seeing that Li Gan’s words were sincere, the old man laughed and said: “This was my fault.” Before long, wine and food were prepared and laid out on the floor, and the soldiers were also invited to sit down, eating and chatting together. The old man spoke of the arts of nourishing life; though his words were few, they were full of reason, and Li Gan’s admiration and fear toward the old man only grew. Finally, in a moment of high spirits, the old man said to Li Gan and the soldiers: “I have a small skill—let me perform it for you.” With that, he went into the inner room.

After a short while, the old man emerged from the inner room wearing purple garments, his beard dyed red, carrying seven swords of varying lengths. In the courtyard, the old man wielded the swords and began to

dance. The swords flashed up and down like bolts of lightning—sometimes slashing horizontally as though about to break apart, sometimes spinning like rapidly turning wheels. One short sword, about two feet long, repeatedly thrust toward Li Gan’s seat. He trembled all over with fear and hastily kowtowed to the ground. After roughly the time it takes to eat a meal, the old man planted the seven swords upright in the earth, arranged like the Big Dipper in the sky. The old man looked at Li Gan, whose face had gone ashen with terror, and said: “Just now I was testing your courage.” Li Gan immediately bowed in gratitude and said: “From this day forward, my very life is something you have granted me. I beg to serve at your side.” The old man said: “Your bone structure lacks the qi of the Way; it is not something that can be taught right away. We shall have occasion to meet again in the future.” With that, he bowed to Li Gan and went back inside.

Li Gan returned home in a daze, his complexion terrible, as though he had contracted

Martial Arts Supreme Skills

a serious illness. When he looked into the mirror, he could not help but startle—he discovered that his beard had been sliced off by more than an inch in length. The next day, when he went to look for the old man again, he found that the room was already empty, with no one inside.

(Tang Dynasty — Duan Chengshi, Youyang Zazu)

The Wall Dragon

The younger brother of Chai Shao of the Tang Dynasty was not only full of talent, but also outstanding in martial arts. From childhood he studied both letters and martial disciplines, and in the martial arts he had received the true transmission of a renowned master. This man was clever and perceptive, often able to absorb the strengths of others and make them his own. In time, he became widely renowned for his superb martial prowess. What people praised even more was that his body was light and swift—with a single leap he would float as though flying, often not landing until more than ten paces away. He could wear leather boots and scale a city wall without using his hands to climb, going straight up to the battlements. He could walk up a palace pillar, all the way to the eaves.

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head, then seized the saddle, and with a single leap, ascended a hundred-foot pavilion. At the time, people gave him a nickname: Wall Dragon.

When Emperor Taizong of Tang heard that Chai Shao’s younger brother possessed the ability to fly over eaves and run along walls, he wished to see it for himself and determine whether the people’s rumors were true. One day, the Emperor ordered the man summoned to the palace and asked him to perform for him. He saw him leap, dodge, and maneuver — light as a swallow, spinning like the wind, swift as lightning. After watching, Taizong could not help but praise him, saying: “Indeed, the reputation is well deserved!” Yet Taizong was still not fully satisfied; he wished to further verify this man’s skill at flying over eaves and running along walls. So before sending him off, he assigned him a special task: to steal the incomparably exquisite saddle and bridle belonging to Duke Zhao, Zhangsun Wuji. In secret, Taizong also had someone notify Wuji in advance, instructing him to guard strictly against it. This Zhangsun Wuji was no ordinary figure either — he stood nine feet tall, with martial prowess surpassing all others and swordsmanship of pure mastery. Upon receiving the news, he immediately strengthened the defenses on all four sides of his courtyard.

Night fell. Zhangsun Wuji personally made a round of inspection along the four sides of the courtyard. Seeing that the guards were all sturdy and fierce, their morale running high, he felt quite at ease. He thought to himself that even if the thief possessed heaven-defying abilities, he would not be able to enter the courtyard even with wings. That evening, Zhangsun Wuji personally stood watch beside the saddle and bridle, awaiting the thief’s arrival. But it was already past midnight, and apart from the sound of wind around the courtyard, there was not the slightest other movement. The guards thought that the thief would probably not come that night. Around the third watch, Zhangsun Wuji grew somewhat weary. He briefly closed his eyes and began to doze. Suddenly, a sound like a bird flying through the air swept overhead. He snapped his eyes open and was instantly astonished: a masked man stood just a few paces away, already holding the saddle and bridle in his hands. By the time he leapt up and swung his sword to block, the masked man calmly sprang upward and flew out through the skylight above his head. Zhangsun Wuji was stunned by this miraculous skill, and inwardly admired that this thief possessed such extraordinary ability.

Taizong, seeing that this man had stolen the saddle and bridle with ease, then asked him to steal Princess Danyang’s hollowed gold-carved pillow. In the middle of the night, he silently slipped into Princess Danyang’s bedchamber. Seeing that the princess was fast asleep, he pinched a bit of dust and scattered it onto the princess’s face.

The princess felt a tickle on her face and lifted her head slightly; he swiftly pulled away her pillow and replaced it with another, then concealed himself and departed. The princess did not discover until daybreak that her pillow had been swapped, yet she could not figure out who had done it. Emperor Taizong was greatly shocked to see that Wall Dragon acted with such agility and speed. He said to a close minister: “A person like this cannot be allowed to remain in the capital.” And so, he was reassigned to serve as an official in another region.

At that time there was also a great thief named Duan Shizi, who likewise possessed the ability to fly over eaves and run along walls. Emperor Taizong had once bestowed upon Zhangsun Wuji a Seven-Treasure Belt, worth a thousand in gold. Zhangsun Wuji cherished it greatly and wore it on his person every day. One day, while Zhangsun Wuji was resting in his room, Duan Shizi dropped down from the rafters above. Before Zhangsun Wuji could react, Duan Shizi drew his blade and aimed it at him, saying: “If you move, I will kill you!” The thief removed the Seven-Treasure

Entering Transformation and Transcendence — Extraordinary Abilities

Belt, then abruptly struck the ground with his blade, sprang upward, and flew back out through the rafters.

(Tang dynasty · Zhang Zhuo, Zhao Ye Qian Zai³)

Bai Taiguan and the Brother and Sister

In the past, there was a man named Bai Taiguan. He had practiced martial arts since childhood, and because of his natural intelligence, he mastered all eighteen types of weaponry. By the time he reached thirty, he was already a renowned master far and wide. The name “Bai Taiguan” was also a formidable and awe-inspiring name in the jianghu. He often acted as a chivalrous hero for justice, and not a few bandits and robbers who committed evil deeds in the jianghu had been defeated by his hand. However, he was overly arrogant and would frequently rely on his superior martial arts to make wild boasts. The people around him could see this clearly, yet none dared to say much about it.

One day, Bai Taiguan had nothing to do, so he left his home and wandered outside the city. Without realizing it, he came to the edge of a reed marsh. Suddenly, from within the reeds, several rough-looking men in short garments with blue kerchiefs wrapped around their heads sprang out and blocked his path. Bai Taiguan was momentarily startled, then cast a casual glance over them and said: “Hmph! You few lads, do you not recognize your Uncle Bai? Or do you perhaps want to rob me of my money? Scatter at once, and I’ll spare your lives!” Among that group, one who appeared to be the leader hastily stepped forward, bowed, and said: “How dare we! How dare we! Who in the jianghu does not know you, Uncle Bai? Today we presumptuously block your way on the orders of our master, specially inviting you to come and meet with him.” When Bai Taiguan heard this, he immediately put on an arrogant expression and said: “Fine! I happen to be free, so let me go and meet him!”

Bai Taiguan followed these men to a threshing ground. A crowd had gathered around the edge of the ground, and in the center, a brother and sister were performing. The brother was about eighteen or nineteen years old, and the sister about sixteen or seventeen. They were running horses in circles on the ground. Bai Taiguan asked the men who had led him there: “Where is your master? Why does he not come out to meet me?” They smiled and said: “Don’t be impatient! First watch the performance of these two siblings!” On the ground, the brother and sister rode their horses in circles, going faster and faster. At that moment, the brother on horseback drew his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming at his sister. With a whoosh, the arrow flew straight toward his sister’s face. The sister, without the slightest panic, waited until the arrow was about to reach her, then smack — she grabbed it in her hand. In this manner, the brother loosed ten arrows in succession, and the sister calmly caught all ten, not letting a single one fall. The onlookers applauded and cheered repeatedly. After watching, even Bai Taiguan could not help but silently marvel — this skill truly could not be achieved in a day or two! Yet he pretended as though nothing had happened.

At this point, the brother and sister had dismounted and come before Bai Taiguan. They clasped their hands in greeting and said: “Uncle Bai, it is truly our honor that you have come to our humble village today. Our master said we must ask you to teach us siblings a move or two. Why don’t you first show us a couple of techniques?” Bai Taiguan knew in his heart that there must be a master here, so he hastily waved his hands and declined. The brother and sister exchanged a glance, smiled, and said: “Very well then! Let us first cast a brick to attract jade!” With that, they brought out a sheng of soybeans and two pairs of bamboo chopsticks. The brother and sister went to the center of the ground, stood facing each other at a distance of over three zhang, each holding a pair of bamboo chopsticks. The brother picked up the soybeans, used his chopsticks to grasp a single bean, and with a flick of his wrist, swish — he sent it flying. The sister, seeing the soybean flying toward her, calmly used her bamboo chopsticks to gently catch it, holding it steady. Then,

The older brother then shot out the second soybean, and the younger sister again caught it steadily. The older brother shot the soybeans up and down, left and right, raining them down upon his sister like a storm. The sister, moving sometimes up and down, sometimes left and right, effortlessly gathered that “rain” with her chopsticks. That entire sheng of soybeans was completely shot out in a short while, and the sister caught every single one without missing a single bean. The crowd present erupted in thunderous applause, and Bai Taiguan also unknowingly clapped along. The brother and sister smiled, clasped their hands in greeting to the audience, and said, “These are just children’s games, please do not laugh at us.” When they turned to look for Bai Taiguan again, he had already vanished without a trace.

Bai Taiguan walked away with a heavy heart. On the road, he pondered and reflected, as if he had come to understand a principle: “There is always someone beyond the person, and there is always a sky beyond the sky.”

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(Qing Dynasty · Qingchengzi, Zhiyi Xubian [Continuation of Records of the Strange])

The Maid Who Caught the Bandits

In the past, there was a Surveillance Commissioner in Henan who was an honest and upright official, loving the people as his own children, and was deeply loved by the local commoners. At that time, in a certain county in Henan, there was a Mr. Nie who was falsely accused of murder and robbery for money, and under severe torture, he was forced into a false confession. Later, the Surveillance Commissioner carefully re-examined the details of the case, conducted multiple investigations, and finally cleared his name and vindicated him. Mr. Nie was extremely grateful. To express his deep gratitude, he left his daughter, Shu’er, in the Surveillance Commissioner’s mansion to work as a maid. Seeing that Mr. Nie was sincere and finding it impossible to decline, the Surveillance Commissioner kept Shu’er in the

mansion.

The Surveillance Commissioner’s wife was very strict in her household management, not allowing the servants to be lazy or slack off, otherwise they would be severely punished. The requirements for the maids were even greater; in addition to completing the daily necessary chores of sweeping and serving both inside and outside the rooms, they also had to know how to cut cloth and sew, as well as do needlework and weaving. Shu’er, however, could not handle needle and thread. The madam was very unhappy about this and often spoke to her coldly, even beating and scolding her. Shu’er did not say much, just lowering her head and silently enduring all of it, earnestly doing the rough chores she knew how to do.

A year later, because the Surveillance Commissioner was impeached in the imperial court, he was reassigned back to his native place in Guangdong. On their journey back, they inevitably had to pass through a jujube forest, and a group of vicious bandits and robbers frequently infested this forest. This road was a necessary route heading south, and traveling merchants and pedestrians were often robbed there. The common people complained endlessly, and the local authorities had also sent many yamen runners to arrest them, but dozens were killed or injured, and they still failed to catch them. This gang of bandits had two leaders. The top leader was known as “Rival of Zhang Qing,” Liu Biao, who was skilled at using the hidden weapon “Meteor Pellet.” This meteor was made of iron beads; when he fired his pellets, it was often five shots in a row, hitting the target every time, making it impossible to defend against and difficult to escape with one’s life. The second leader’s weapon was an iron crutch, and he was known as Iron Crutch Zhu Jian. He had the strength of an ox, and wielding the iron crutch was even more handy and skillful. The huge drum in front of the True Martial Temple in the city was smashed into pieces with a single strike by him. Anyone who was hit by his crutch would either die or be left crippled. The Surveillance Commissioner had long been deeply aware of this situation during his tenure, but returning to his hometown required passing through this very place. Having no other choice, he had to bite the bullet, proceed cautiously, and strengthen their defenses.

On this day, the sun was about to set, and seeing that dusk was approaching, as the carriages and horses neared the jujube forest, they suddenly heard whistling arrows flying and screeching from within the forest; this was the bandits’ signal. The Surveillance Commissioner was immediately so frightened that his legs trembled, his fingers shook, and he did not know what to do. The madam’s face turned an earthy yellow at this moment; her whole body shivered, curling up into a ball. Looking again at the attendants, servants, and cart drivers, they were panic-stricken, shouting and yelling wildly. At this time, only Shu’er was extremely calm. She mounted a horse, rushed to the front of the procession, and shouted loudly: “Everyone, do not panic!” This voice was sonorous and forceful; no one could believe that this was the voice of the usually meek and submissive Shu’er. She calmly and unhurriedly said to everyone: “A mere few scoundrels dare to offend the Lord’s carriage. I think they are tired of living. Let me go and dispose of them!” Everyone fell

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silent, looking at Shu’er in astonishment. Shu’er continued, “Stop the carriages and horses here and wait a moment; I will go and be right back.” After speaking, she spurred her horse and charged straight toward the bandits.

This group of bandits was just about to rush over and loot the carriage and horse procession, but they suddenly saw Shu’er approaching, so they halted their steps. Shu’er rode up to them, pulled the reins, and shouted sternly: “Disperse quickly! Do not block the carriage of His Excellency the Surveillance Commissioner, otherwise, I will smash your dog heads!” Hearing this, the bandits laughed wildly: “Ha ha, a tiny little brat dares to speak such arrogant nonsense. Quickly dismount and surrender, and we will spare your life.” Shu’er said sternly: “Pah! You dog things, do you recognize me, Nie Shu’er of Henan?” The bandits became even more arrogant this time, saying: “We only recognize gold, silver, banknotes, jewelry, and jade. What use do we have for you, Shu’er?” Shu’er was furious and shouted: “Fine! I advised you with kind words, but you did not listen; then today is your day of death.” One of the bandits said: “Alright! Today I will spar with the little lady.” As he spoke, the man flicked out a pellet, striking straight for Shu’er’s right eye. Shu’er was already prepared; she lightly raised her right hand and clamped the pellet between two fingers. Immediately after, another one flew over, targeting Shu’er’s left eye. Shu’er still calmly raised her left hand and caught it. As the saying goes, it was slow to speak but fast to happen; the third pellet was about to reach Shu’er’s throat. She lowered her head, lightly parted her red lips, and bit the pellet between her teeth. The thief was greatly startled and fired two more pellets at Shu’er in succession. Shu’er, without haste, took the opportunity to lie flat on the horse’s back, clamped the pellet that arrived first between her legs, and then kicked it forcefully, striking the pellet that followed closely behind. With a “clang,” the two pellets collided in mid-air and fell to the ground. At this moment, Shu’er vaulted up from the horse, and using the momentum, spat out the pellet from her mouth to strike at the thief, causing him to clutch his head and curl into a ball in fright. Shu’er smiled contemptuously: “I imagine you must be the ‘Rival of Zhang Qing,’ Liu Biao! With this superficial skill, you still wish to cross hands with me?”

At this time, another bandit brandished his iron crutch and lunged fiercely. Shu’er dodged to let the head of the crutch pass, and then raised her left hand to fiercely strike the bandit’s hands holding the crutch. The thief cried out in pain and let go of the weapon. Shu’er smoothly caught the iron crutch with her right hand. Shu’er lightly twitched the corner of her mouth and said: “Oh my! Zhu Jian! Where did you steal this fire poker from to use as a weapon! Who are you trying to scare? It’s truly ridiculous!” After speaking, she burst into laughter, and right before Shu’er’s eyes, in a few quick strokes, she broke the iron crutch into three or four pieces. She even rubbed it back and forth with her hands; for some unknown reason, this iron crutch, which had awed the Greenwood bandits for so long, actually became as soft as a silk thread in Shu’er’s hands. This truly frightened the two…

The bandit leaders were terrified. Just as they turned to flee into the forest, Shu’er gave a great shout: “Where are you going!” Before her words had faded, she fired the two pellets she had caught in her hands. Before the two bandit leaders could run far, the pellets struck them, killing them instantly. The remaining bandits, seeing how effortlessly she had killed their leaders, trembled like sieves and knelt before Shu’er’s horse, kowtowing and begging for mercy. From horseback, Shu’er waved her hand and said: “I will not kill you today—I fear it would dirty my hands. Go your separate ways and flee for your lives! Do not commit evil deeds again. If you do not mend your ways and I catch you, I will show no mercy. Begone!” The bandits hastily dispersed.

Shu’er returned to the carriage and horse train as though nothing had happened. The Judicial Commissioner, seeing that she was safe and sound, asked half-believingly: “You have driven the bandits away?” Shu’er smiled faintly and said: “Thanks to Your Excellency’s good fortune, Shu’er has driven the bandits away. I have not disgraced Your Excellency’s reputation and have fulfilled my mission. We may now set off.” On the road, the still-terrified wife said to Shu’er with a trembling voice: “Shu’er, you know martial arts, and extraordinary martial arts at that—why did you never show the slightest sign of it at home?” Shu’er looked down and chuckled, replying playfully: “If I had practiced openly, how would that have been proper in the household!” The wife also laughed, then asked: “Why was it so difficult for you to take up needle and thread normally?” Shu’er shook her head helplessly and said: “Do not mock me, Madam. Since childhood I trained in the martial arts and loved only to wield spears and staves, swords and blades. I had never done any needlework. To suddenly be made to pick up a needle was sheer torture for me—I simply could not learn no matter what.” The wife looked at her affectionately and asked: “Then why were you always silent when I scolded or struck you? If you had told me earlier, how could I have…” Shu’er hurriedly interrupted: “Your Excellency’s kindness to our family is as weighty as a mountain. My father sent me into the household precisely to repay his great benevolence. When you scold or strike me, it is your way of caring for Shu’er, for my own good. But Shu’er is dull by nature and often provoked your anger—how could I harbor the slightest complaint?” Hearing this, the wife grew even fonder of Shu’er.

The Judicial Commissioner returned safely to his hometown, and it was only thanks to Shu’er’s protection along the way that he avoided many perils. His wife grew increasingly fond of her and even urged the Judicial Commissioner to take her as a concubine. One day, the wife invited Shu’er to her room and said: “Shu’er, you have been truly important to our family. We owe you so much on this journey. I have not yet borne His Excellency a son or daughter, and I have

discussed it with him—we would like to take you as a secondary wife. I wonder if you would be willing?” When Shu’er heard this, she immediately knelt and said: “Shu’er comes from a humble rural background, and besides, my father sent me here to serve as a servant—how could I dare harbor such presumptuous thoughts?” The wife helped her up and said: “Do not say that. Today, I see you should say no more. From now on, we two shall be as sisters—what do you say? Dear sister!” Shu’er’s cheeks instantly flushed crimson.

Later, Shu’er bore a son for the Judicial Commissioner. The child was clever and followed his mother in practicing the martial arts from a young age. When he grew up, he became the magistrate of Diannan County. He also frequently personally led runners into the mountains to capture bandits and thieves, very much in his mother’s style.

(Qing dynasty · Shen Qifeng, Heduo)

Martial Arts

Contest of Skills

In ancient times, in Taixing County, there was a martial arts master known as Sai Feiyan (“Rival of the Flying Swallow”), Li Donghuai. He had been taught martial arts by an accomplished master and had trained to attain peerless lightness skill—he could fly over eaves and walk on walls, leave no trace on snow. Moreover, his palm techniques were extraordinarily superb; no martial artist within a hundred li could match him. He was also renowned far and wide for his formidable martial prowess, and for this reason many people constantly sought to test their skills against his.

One day, just past noon, Li Donghuai was about to rest when suddenly a monk outside the gate requested an audience, saying he wished to compete with him in martial

arts. When Li Donghuai heard this, he thought to himself: Alas, there are always people wanting to compete, and in the end they all slink away in defeat. How much better can this monk be? He ordered someone to invite him in. The moment the monk stepped into the hall, Li Donghuai could not help but gasp—this monk was well over eight chi tall, black and gleaming like an iron pagoda. He had broad shoulders and a thick waist, his monastic robe hanging open, and the thicket of black chest hair was like an iron brush. One glance told you he had the strength of an ox and the ferocity of a tiger. Upon entering the hall, the monk’s two huge eyes darted everywhere, and he kept bellowing: “Where is Li Donghuai? Come out quickly and compete with me.” Seeing the monk’s bearing, Li Donghuai knew this visitor had not come with good intentions—if they exchanged blows and he made the slightest misstep, he would lose the reputation he had spent years building. So he hurried forward, clasped his hands in salute, and said: “Great Master, your timing today is truly unfortunate. My master Li Donghuai happened to go to a neighboring county to visit friends. May I ask where your esteemed temple is located? When my master returns, I shall certainly have him call upon you. What does the Great Master think?” Hearing this, a flash of displeasure crossed the monk’s face, and he said: “This humble monk wanders the world and currently stays temporarily at Qingyun Temple outside the city. In this life I acknowledge no one’s superiority—I only love to compete in martial arts with others. Since your master is away—”

He handed the calling card not to Li Donghuai standing to one side. He looked around and suddenly went to a large pillar in the hall that supported the roof beam. Bending down, he grabbed the pillar with his right hand, gave a heave upward, and the pillar rose several cun off its stone base. Then, unhurriedly, he placed the calling card on the stone base with his left hand and released the pillar—the card was pressed firmly and steadily beneath it. The monk straightened up, dusted off his hands, and said: “The card is safest here—it definitely won’t be lost. Don’t forget to tell your master!” With that, he strode out boldly.

Li Donghuai watched all of this, calculating how to handle this thorny matter. Suddenly a plan came to mind, and he had his strategy ready. Li Donghuai dispatched his men to Qingyun Temple to inquire about the monk’s movements and routine—when he was at the temple and when he liked to go out. One day, a man came to report that the monk had left early that morning and was not expected back until evening. Li Donghuai was delighted, mounted his horse, and headed straight for Qingyun Temple to “return the visit.” Although the young novice at the temple said the monk was not in, Li Donghuai still strode into the main hall and, while looking at the hall’s furnishings, said: “I am Li Donghuai of Taixing County. What a coincidence today as well—I have not found the Great Master. Here is my calling card—please give it to him when he returns.” He took out his calling card but did not hand it to the young novice.

…but said, “I must put it in a safe place so it doesn’t get lost!” So he dabbed a bit of saliva on the back of the calling card, leapt into the air, and flew straight toward the roof. Li Donghuai, like a flying swallow, extended one arm lightly in mid-air and affixed the calling card squarely upon the main beam of the hall. This so frightened the young novice that he stood dumbstruck, mouth agape. After Li Donghuai came down, he smiled and said to the young novice, “Be sure to thank that monk properly for the instruction he gave me last time!” Then he left the temple. That evening, when the monk returned and saw the calling card, and heard what the young novice had to say, he could not help but feel somewhat nervous. He now knew what kind of lightness skill Li Donghuai possessed, for this main hall was very tall, and the main beam was over twenty zhang above the ground. The next day he packed his luggage and went off wandering elsewhere.

Li Donghuai waited anxiously at home for the monk’s response. As soon as he heard that the monk had left, the stone in his heart finally fell. It turned out that Li Donghuai and the monk each had something to fear in the other. Li Donghuai feared the monk’s extraordinary valor, while the monk, of course, feared Li Donghuai’s peerless lightness skill.

(Qing dynasty — Yu Yue, You Tai Xian Guan Bi Ji [“Notes from the Immortal Hall of the Right Terrace”])

The Bearded Knight

The Bearded Knight was a boatman from Wuchang who often plied a single boat alone, traveling back and forth between Wu and Yue. In his contacts and conversations with others, he never told anyone his name or place of origin. His eyes were bright and spirited, his gaze like a torch. His beard was over a foot long and naturally divided into five strands — very handsome — and so people all called him “Lord of the Beautiful Beard.”

During the Chongzhen reign, there was a man in Hubei named Huang Dayan who was quite renowned in literature. Once he set out to visit friends in Jinling,

and specially hired the Bearded Knight’s boat. When Huang Dayan first saw the Bearded Knight, he felt that his appearance was not that of an ordinary man, and so he paid special attention to his movements. Once aboard, the Bearded Knight did not say much; he simply rowed both oars forward. The boat sped like an arrow across the river, covering in a single day the distance an ordinary boat would take two or three days to travel.

In the blink of an eye evening had fallen, and the Bearded Knight decided to pull ashore to rest. By the riverbank, a dozen or so water buffalo were bathing, leaving the boatman nowhere to moor. The Bearded Knight rowed the boat close to the water buffalo, grabbed each buffalo by both horns, and flung them one by one onto the bank, just as one might toss a yellow weasel. Huang Dayan was astonished at this sight — he had never expected the Bearded Knight to possess such enormous strength.

During the journey, the Bearded Knight was very casual about when to sail and when to stop, never choosing terrain but mooring wherever he pleased. Whenever he encountered a lonely islet, a deserted island, swift currents, or dangerous shoals, he would always linger and be reluctant to leave. Even when Huang Dayan urged him repeatedly, he could not bear to depart. Huang Dayan was very worried, seeing that some places were sparsely populated and bandits frequently appeared, but the Bearded Knight said nonchalantly, “Wherever my boat moors, bandits will not dare to intrude, nor will waves dare to rise. You have no need to be afraid!” Along the way, every time they passed a shrine or altar, the Bearded Knight would rail incessantly against ghosts and spirits, and then break into singing with cackling sounds.

One day, Huang Dayan suddenly noticed a girl of fifteen or sixteen within the curtained canopy at the stern of the boat — poised and elegant, like the daughter of a noble house. He found this very strange but did not dare to ask. One morning he rose and gazed into the distance, spotted a tavern on the shore, and turned to the Bearded Knight, saying, “Could you buy me some wine?” The Bearded Knight said, “Fine.” He took the money and went ashore. Huang Dayan immediately went to the stern and asked the young woman, “Where are you from? Why are you following him? Tell me quietly, and I’ll find a way to rescue you.” The young woman shed tears of grief and said in broken sentences, “I am from Hangzhou. I accompanied my father to take an official post in western Guangdong. On our return, our boat stopped at Xiangtan. Bandits raided the boat at night and killed my parents and more than ten others, throwing their bodies into the river. Then they intended to carry me off. A moment later, the Bearded Knight’s boat arrived. He wielded his blade and struck down the bandits — all dozen or so of them were killed. I kowtowed and begged for death. The Bearded Knight said, ‘I am no bandit — I killed the bandits on your behalf. Now your parents’ vengeance has been carried out. I intend to seek out your kinsmen and return you to them. If in the end you have no home to go to, I shall choose a good husband for you. I will never dishonor you — do not be afraid.’ And so he let me board his boat. The Bearded Knight sleeps alone on the boat’s sail, shunning neither wind, rain, nor thunder. There are four or five men who associate with him. Together they go up mountains to hunt tigers and leopards, and down into rivers to catch crocodiles, then they make the tiger and crocodile meat into dried jerky to go with their wine. The four or five of them often whisper together — I don’t know what they discuss. I only see them weep and laugh erratically. Sometimes they climb mountains to observe the celestial signs, and when they return to the boat they are gloomy; then they drink together, and when drunk they weep bitterly. I do not know what kind of people they are.”

Hardly had she finished speaking when the Bearded Knight returned with wine and food. Huang Dayan stepped forward and bowed, saying, “I had eyes but failed to recognize an extraordinary man.” The two then sat together and drank. As the wine flowed freely, the Bearded Knight said,

“We met by chance like duckweed on water — may I say a word as a verification? You have literary talent, yet you lack the physiognomy of official success. You have no son; you have adopted your brother’s son as your heir, but your brother’s son is also without good fortune.” When Huang Dayan saw that the Bearded Knight had hit upon the very matter of his lack of an heir, he said dejectedly, “Honor and lowliness are dictated by fate. If only I could have a son to carry on the family line, I would be content.”

Suddenly the Bearded Knight leapt up and said, “You have a son now! The young woman on my boat has a physiognomy of good fortune. I know you have lost your wife — she can be given to you as a second wife. This young woman will bear five sons, but because your own physiognomy is solitary, you shall obtain only one son. Today is an auspicious day, and I shall arrange this for you.” With that, he told the young woman to change her clothes, raised a cup of wine, and performed their wedding ceremony. The Bearded Knight also gave them the entire thousand taels of silver that the bandits had plundered.

After Dayan married, he wanted to hurry home. The Bearded Knight single-handedly piloted the boat to escort them. When they reached Jiujiang County in Jiangxi, he took his leave, saying, “The world is about to fall into great chaos. I hope you will care for yourself after returning home. From now on, you and I shall never meet again.” Dayan and his wife clung to his sleeves and pleaded earnestly for him to stay, but he still refused. In the end, he tore off his sleeves, turned the boat around, and departed — no one knew where he went. Later, Huang Dayan’s brother’s son did indeed die young, and between him and his later wife they had five children, of whom only the youngest son survived.

(Qing dynasty — Yu Yue, Hui Zui Bian [“The Collected and Abridged Compilation”])

The Sorcerer Drives Away the Flies

My uncle Shen Minggao, courtesy name Chuhe, served as the Prefect of Baoding Prefecture in Zhili. My uncle exerted himself to make the region prosperous, was diligent in government affairs, strict and upright as an official, and was deeply supported by officials and commoners alike, being called a “capable official.” At that time, my brother-in-law Shao Nanchu was serving as an investigating censor in the capital, and he recommended a guest to my uncle. This person’s surname was Xiong, courtesy name Zijing; his appearance was extremely ugly, and he could not recognize a single word as big as a dipper. My uncle did not understand why his brother-in-law recommended such a person as a guest, but he still treated him to good food and fine wine. After Xiong Zijing arrived at my uncle’s house, he cared nothing for my uncle’s official or family

affairs. Every day, apart from eating, drinking, and sleeping, he just sat alone, solitary and inert, and did not converse or socialize with anyone. Seeing that this person’s disposition was eccentric and unsociable, everyone also kept away from him.

In the blink of an eye, nearly half a year had passed. Xiong Zijing bid farewell to my uncle; my uncle could not persuade him to stay, so he granted permission. Before leaving, he said to my uncle: “I have lived here for half a year, and thanks to your treating me to good wine and meat, I have disturbed you in too many ways, and I am very grateful in my heart. I have nothing to repay you with, but as I leave, I shall perform a trivial trick for you to show my gratitude.” My uncle was very happy and repeatedly agreed, and he summoned the guests in his house to come and watch together.

Everyone gathered in the main hall of the house, and Xiong Zijing sat alone in the middle. It was the height of the Great Heat season, and the weather was unbearably hot. The hall was entirely filled with buzzing and humming flies, surely numbering in the hundreds or thousands. There were those flying back and forth, and those resting in one place, crawling up and down people’s necks, or darting straight for people’s faces. One’s ears were filled with the sound of buzzing, and what one saw before one’s eyes was like scattered sand or tossed beans. The guests waved their fans left and right, unable to swat them all away, and became irritated and annoyed. Seeing this, Xiong Zijing ordered the servant boys to hold palm-leaf fans and drive the flies from the left and right sides toward the center of the main hall. Just as everyone was bewildered, Xiong Zijing casually took out two chopsticks from his sleeve, reached for the randomly flying flies in the air, and upon catching them, placed them into his sleeve. At first, he poked and jabbed erratically, his technique swift and agile. After a while, the flies gradually thinned out; whenever a fly flew past, he would casually catch it. This went on for nearly half a shi [one hour], and the chopsticks never once missed their target. When all the flies in the room had entered his sleeve, he finally put away the pair of chopsticks, placed them into his sleeve, and smiled at the crowd. Only then did everyone snap out of their daze, feeling boundless admiration. They then crowded around him, talking and laughing, and set off for the farewell banquet that my uncle had already prepared.

Host and guests drank heartily to their hearts’ content. When the wine was finished, Xiong Zijing used two fingers to prop open his wide sleeve opening and gave it a slight shake. The flies flew out in an endless stream, and in an instant, the hall was again filled with buzzing and the sound of fluttering wings, a truly spectacular sight. While everyone was wondering, they all fixed their eyes on him. They saw Xiong Zijing close his eyes slightly, mumbling incantations in his mouth. After a moment, he stared straight at the flies flying back and forth: “If you do not come to disturb me, I will not catch you. Go away quickly! Go away quickly!” In an instant, one could see myriad specks like shooting stars; the flies scattered in all directions, fleeing in panic through doors or windows. In the blink of an eye, there was not a single fly left in the hall, which became extremely quiet. Everyone was endlessly amazed. My uncle hurriedly ordered someone to fetch silver and said, “You have brought boundless blessings;

this little silver is but a token of my respect, to serve as travel expenses.” Xiong Zijing cupped his hands and said, “It is rather I who have disturbed the Prefect in many ways. Besides, what need do I have for silver? I only hope that the Prefect governs the common people just as I govern the flies; if so, then both the officials and the people of the entire commandery will enjoy blessings.” After speaking, he clasped his hands in greeting and drifted away.

(Qing Dynasty · Shen Qifeng’s Xieguai)

Martial Arts Ultimate Skills

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Kong Kong’er

During the Qianlong reign of the Qing Dynasty, the Governor-General of Liangjiang, Grand Guardian Huang, made an inspection tour to Zhenjiang Prefecture. The official boat had just docked at the Jingkou ferry crossing when the rosary beads hanging around Grand Guardian Huang’s neck suddenly vanished into thin air. He broke out in a cold sweat; this item was like an official talisman, how could it be lost! Thus, he immediately summoned the county magistrates under Zhenjiang Prefecture and ordered them to investigate strictly, setting a deadline of one month to recover the rosary beads, or else they would be severely punished without pardon. The county magistrates knew that this matter was no small thing; they were panicked and terrified. After returning to their offices, they immediately dispatched yamen runners to search and investigate everywhere. Over the course of several days, through the main streets and small alleys, within the city and in the countryside

They searched everywhere, but there was still no trace. The county magistrates then rounded up all known thieves, rogues, and ruffians, and subjected them to harsh interrogation under torture, yet the whereabouts of the prayer beads remained undiscovered. The one-month deadline was fast approaching; every conceivable method had been exhausted, and the magistrates were all disheartened and at a complete loss.

One of the magistrates, desperate and out of ideas, changed into plain clothes, left the yamen, and went out personally to investigate in secret. After several days of covert inquiries, he still had nothing to show for it. One day, the magistrate arrived behind Mount Gouqu and suddenly encountered a beautiful young woman. She wore a crimson silk garment, with bow-shaped shoes on her feet and narrow sleeves—most charming to behold. He saw her moving up and down a sheer cliff face, picking privet leaves from the trees, as agile and effortless as a bird in flight. The magistrate was utterly astonished, and thought to himself that with such physical ability and skill, stealing the Governor-General’s prayer beads would have been mere child’s play. He hid himself nearby, and when the woman finished picking privet and returned, he quietly followed behind her. The magistrate followed her all the way to a river, where he saw her find a cave and enter it. He followed her inside as well. Though the cave entrance was small, the interior was vast and expansive—covering several mu of land—with winding, twisting paths that spiraled back and forth, utterly unlike anything in the human world. The magistrate proceeded along the path, and just before reaching the end of the cave, several thatched huts suddenly appeared, their doorways encircled by hibiscus-branch fences. Inside one hut, an old woman was washing utensils over a stove. She looked up and saw the magistrate, then said in surprise, “Are you not the county magistrate? How did you come to be here?” The magistrate quickly bowed with hands clasped and explained that he had come to investigate the missing prayer beads. The old woman smiled and said, “Ah, it must be my daughter again playing a joke on your superior. The child is very mischievous—she still hasn’t outgrown her childishness. I am sorry to have caused you such anxiety and to have made you come all this way in person. I shall certainly punish her. However, I don’t know where she has gone right now. Please go back first. Tomorrow she will surely return the prayer beads. Your Honor the magistrate need only go to the top of the pagoda at Baosi Temple before noon to retrieve them.” The magistrate respectfully agreed, withdrew from the cave, and then ran swiftly to the residence of Huang Taibao and reported everything he had seen and heard. Huang Taibao was astounded beyond measure.

The next day, Huang Taibao ordered his deputy to lead soldiers in surrounding the Baosi Temple pagoda. The troops all had arrows nocked and stood ready for action. At noon, everyone was highly tense, looking up at the pagoda top, with all eyes fixed upon it. Just then, a streak of red light was suddenly seen flashing past like lightning from

the top of the pagoda, and a string of prayer beads was now conspicuously hanging from the pagoda’s summit. In an instant, the soldiers loosed a volley of arrows, but by then the figure had long vanished without a trace. The arrows flew like shafts of light, as futile as trying to catch the wind or grasp at shadows—nothing was hit. Huang Taibao then ordered sturdy soldiers to climb ladders up the pagoda and retrieve the prayer beads. The beads were intact and undamaged, except that a letter had been added. On the envelope were written several large characters: “A letter sealed by the hand of Kong Kong’er.” The soldiers presented the prayer beads and the letter to Huang Taibao. Huang Taibao opened the letter and read it carefully. The letter roughly stated that since he had taken office, he had “relied on his power to harass scholars and common people, employed sinister schemes to deceive the sovereign, leveraged his authority to insult officials, and unleashed soldiers to spy on and surveil the words and deeds of others; gathered underlings and cultivated loyalists to frame good people and humiliate those of noble aspiration; and, to satisfy his own greed, employed every cruel and deceitful means to swindle others. Bearing the heavy responsibility of a frontier commander, you harbor treacherous designs, poisoning Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities officials and commoners wherever you go, such that gentlemen dare not bring charges and censors dare not impeach—your crimes are extreme. Therefore I have stolen your prayer beads as a warning. If you do not quickly repent and instead repeat your past offenses, I shall take your head, and use it as a lesson to high officials”—words to that effect.

After Huang Taibao finished reading the letter, he felt a chill to the very bone, and thereafter his greedy and tyrannical nature was somewhat restrained.

(Qing dynasty · Zhu Meishu, Maiyou Ji)

The Flying Sword

Zheng Jia was a native of Bianliang. He had originally been a chieftain of bandits who raided homes and plundered along the highways. In middle age he repented and mended his ways, taking up another livelihood. By the time he reached old age, everyone in his village praised him as a good man. In his dealings with others, he was modest, cautious, and invariably amiable—like an honest, ordinary person. No one knew that he still possessed incomparable martial prowess. On his forehead was a patch missing a tuft of hair, revealing a scar—round like a copper coin, shiny as a small mirror. At first glance, one might have mistaken it for the scar left by monastic ordination.

An inquisitive person once asked him during casual conversation how he had gotten that scar, and he told the person:

“In my youth I was brave and powerful. My two arms could draw a great bow of two hundred shi. Stacking fifteen bricks together, I could strike them with one palm and every brick would snap cleanly in two, as though cut by a blade. My legs were fast too—I could travel six hundred li a day, no slower than a galloping horse. I was especially skilled with the pellet bow: at a hundred paces, I never missed, not once in ten thousand shots. In my prime, wearing tight-fitting clothes, riding alone on a single horse, and relying on my pellet bow, I robbed passing merchants across the lands of Qi, Lu, Yan, and Zhao, and never once failed. At the time, I thought myself invincible under heaven.

“One day, a high official escorting provisions was transporting one million taels of silver to the capital. Carried by carts and pack mules, the goods were so abundant they made one’s mouth water. At the rear of the convoy trailed a young man acting as rearguard. He appeared to be about twenty years of age, with a fair and handsome face and a gentle disposition—soft and delicate as a maiden. He had spread an embroidered cushion and was seated on the edge of a cart, dressed in splendid clothes and wearing a square cap adorned with a cat’s-eye gemstone about the size of a longan pit, gleaming and glittering. Under the brilliance of the sun’s rays, it radiated dazzling light in all directions—truly a rare treasure of the world. I took him for nothing more than a pampered young scion accompanying the convoy to the capital, and so I did not pay him any mind. It was only the carts of gold and silver that I lusted after in my heart, and I felt that for cargo so valuable, there must surely be formidable martial experts guarding it. Therefore I did not dare act rashly. Instead, I gathered more than forty skilled hands from among my fellow bandits, and we trailed the convoy along the road, looking for an opportunity to strike. Because the carts were heavily loaded, they could not travel even eighty li in a day. Within a few days, they encountered heavy rain that blocked the road. Before they could find an inn, they happened upon a temple by the roadside and took lodging there. My companions and I were all secretly delighted, considering it a heaven-sent opportunity that could not be missed, and we all hid in the tall grass, waiting for the right moment to act.

“After a while, the rain cleared and the sky brightened; the dark clouds all withdrew. After another while, a bright moon rose in the east and ascended into the sky, making the whole world seem bright as daylight. By the time the second watch arrived, there was not a soul to be seen and all was perfectly still. Everyone agreed it was time to act. We stripped off our outer garments, revealing our tight-fitting clothes, and concealed sharp swords and blades on our persons. We agreed to scale the wall and enter one after another, using claps and whistles as signals. We then assigned tasks according to each person’s skill: half would enter the courtyard, and half would remain outside the temple. Once the plan was settled, more than twenty men surged forward with fierce determination, and with a single burst of effort

…aura, leaped over the wall, as swift as a flying bird, landing without a sound. What excellent movement! More than twenty of us then hid beneath the corner of the wall, holding our breath, specifically waiting for the good news to be transmitted so we could go in and carry the goods.

“About the duration of a shichen had passed, yet inside the wall there was still no sound, completely silent. We felt it was very strange and guessed among ourselves, but couldn’t say what the reason was; good or bad fortune was hard to predict. So we sent five more people over the wall to inquire for news. After these five people leaped onto the top of the wall, they did not dare to rashly drop down to the ground. They only saw from a distance that a light was still burning in one of the rooms. It turned out that the young man was holding a candle, muttering something, and sitting upright facing south. Suddenly, the young man seemed to sense someone on the wall. With a flick of his hand, a streak of white light flashed out from his sleeve. The five accomplices on the wall knew this was swordsmanship. Extremely terrified, they cried out miserably: ‘It’s over! Run!’ Hearing this, we hurriedly turned and ran back. But we saw a ball of white light swirl out from the top of the wall. The cold air was oppressive; it killed anyone it approached, making it extremely difficult to escape. For a moment, everyone scattered in flight, each seeking to save his own life. Seeing nowhere to hide, I was just feeling sorrowful when I suddenly saw a manure pit by the roadside. Like a drowning man clutching at a straw, I didn’t care about the filth and stench, and hurriedly jumped in. The manure pit was very deep, submerging my head and face at once. Only the top of my head was exposed. Even so, the top of my head took a sword strike, slicing off a tuft of skin and flesh. The pain pierced to the marrow. Soon, the white light finished hunting down the twenty-some people outside the wall, gradually shrank, and flew back into the wall. Thinking about it, the twenty-some people who had earlier entered the courtyard must have been harmed by this swordsmanship, their bodies and heads long separated, with no survivors.

“In this battle, I was fortunately covered by the manure, thereby managing to keep my miserable life. This is truly a great fortune. Otherwise, I would have joined those forty-odd companions as ghosts, and my white bones would probably have long rotted away. After I climbed out of the manure pit, I found that the top of my head was dripping with blood, difficult to stop for a while. I only felt my heart alarmed and my courage trembling. I crawled into the grass, took off the clothes covered in manure, stripped the clothes off someone else to change into, and then drew my knife, cut a piece of a shirt lap, and wrapped it around my head. At the time, I secretly celebrated my survival, but I never dared to do this bandit business again. Now I am seventy years old. Every time I touch the sword scar with my hand, I still feel as if that glimmer of lightning is right above my head. My heart shudders, and my teeth still chatter.”

(Qing Dynasty · Xu Quanma, Li)

Transforming Sword

When Bian Guiyan was serving as the Assistant Magistrate of Shanxu, he built a house on the shores of Hongze Lake. He often gathered guests there to drink wine and recite poetry, feeling very much at ease.

One evening, Assistant Magistrate Bian invited guests to drink again. The banquet had just been set, and everyone was calling to each other to take their seats, politely declining and unwilling to sit in the seat of honor. At this moment, an uninvited guest burst into the room. This person wore a dirty and tattered hat on his head. His queue was thick and messy, scattered loosely over his ears. His clothes were also dirty and unkempt, and beneath his feet

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he wore a pair of broken shoes. This man crossed his hands, bowed to the guests, and then directly sat down in the seat of honor. He immediately began drinking wine and eating meat without the slightest look of shame. Everyone felt it was strange, suspecting he was a guest invited by the Assistant Magistrate, and asked for his name. He said casually and forthrightly: “My surname is Yao, my courtesy name is Muyun, and I am from Xiaoshan, Zhejiang.” Assistant Magistrate Bian also felt it was strange, thinking to himself that this must be an extraordinary person, so he asked, “You must have some skills, sir?” The man smiled and replied, “I know how to play with a sword.” Saying this, he spat out a small lead bead from his mouth. The small lead bead fell into the palm of his hand and instantly became a small sword, about an inch long. The small sword was completely transparent, while fire spurted from its tip, glittering like a snake flicking its tongue, extremely terrifying. Seeing this, the guests were all terrified beyond measure, not even daring to breathe heavily. Assistant Magistrate Bian, seeing this situation and afraid that Yao Muyun would frighten the guests, repeatedly requested him to put the small sword away. Yao Muyun said to Assistant Magistrate Bian: “If the sword doesn’t come out, then so be it. But since it has come out, its killing intent will be overwhelming. It must kill a living creature before it can be put away.” Saying this, he looked at the Assistant Magistrate with a cold, somewhat amused smile. The Assistant Magistrate hurriedly bowed and said, “Except for human beings, you may go ahead and kill any other living creature.” Yao Muyun looked around and saw a peach tree as thick as a man’s embrace growing below the steps, standing graceful like a canopy. He pointed his hand at the peach tree, and a beam of white light flew towards the tree. They saw the beam of white light circle the tree once, and the large tree silently toppled over into the courtyard. At this time, Yao Muyun spat out another lead bead from his mouth, which transformed into a small sword as before. Pointing with his hand again, this sword turned into a beam of white light and flew beneath the peach tree, colliding with the previous beam of white light. Like two hornless dragons, they pounced, rolled, and fought together. After a while, the two beams of light shot straight up into the blue sky, chasing and intertwining, moving back and forth ceaselessly. At this moment, all the lamps and candles in the room went out completely. While manipulating the two beams of white light, Yao Muyun constantly looked at the crowd, a proud expression on his face. Seeing this, the guests were even more afraid, all trembling with fear. Some even knelt on the ground and pleaded with him. Only then did Yao Muyun stand up with a smile and say: “I’m done playing.” With a beckon of his hand, the two beams of light returned to his palms, still transforming into two small lead beads. He swallowed them into his mouth, and there was nothing left. Yao Muyun then poured a full cup of wine for himself and began eating heartily. The guests admired him endlessly and all begged him to accept them

Peerless Martial Arts

[I] have swordsmanship, but not the alchemist’s golden touch, which is why I have come here.” After speaking, he looked at Assistant Magistrate Bian. Assistant Magistrate Bian understood his meaning and hurriedly ordered his servants to bring out one hundred taels of silver to give him. Yao Muyun stayed at Assistant Magistrate Bian’s place for three days and then left.

(Qing Dynasty · Yuan Mei, Zi Bu Yu)

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The Swordsman

There was a Prefect who was transferred from a position in the Ministry to serve as the Prefect of Ningguo Prefecture in Anhui. While on his way to take up the post, he made the acquaintance of a young man. This young man was strikingly handsome, with fair skin and a delicate, almost feminine, frailty, and he spoke with the local accent of the Shaanxi region. The Prefect inquired about his background. He claimed to be from the Shandong area, his surname was Wei, and his name was Xianpei. Having gone to the capital to take the imperial examinations, he had unfortunately failed and was now heading south to return home. The Prefect discussed ancient and modern topics with him, and to his surprise, the man was extraordinarily learned and retentive, knowing something about everything and possessing profound scholarship. The Prefect was overjoyed and hired him

to be his personal secretary.

When Wei Xianpei arrived at the official residence, he kept his door closed and remained alone all day, burning incense and sitting in quiet meditation, rarely going out. When fellow staff members occasionally visited his quarters to chat, he was always amiable and showed no intention of turning guests away; therefore, everyone liked to associate with him. His living quarters, winter or summer, contained only a cloth canopy, a cloth quilt, a rattan mat, and a leather case used as a pillow. On his desk, there were only brushes and ink; besides these, he had nothing else of value. He would go out traveling for a few days every month. When colleagues asked him where he had been, he replied: “I have loved mountains and rivers since I was a child. Now that I am traveling in this area, famous places like Qianshan and Huoqiu in northern Anhui, Mount Lu in Jiangxi, West Lake, Yanji, Siming, and Tiantai in Zhejiang, Mount Jiuhua in Chizhou, and Mount Huang and Mount Baiyue in Xin’an are all close at hand. I cannot help but visit and tour all these places one by one.” His colleagues were astonished and said:

Entering Transformation and Transcendence—Extraordinary

“The famous scenic spots you mention are at least a hundred li away at the nearest, and a thousand li away at the farthest. To wish to tour them all—how could that be easy?” Wei Xianpei smiled and said, “When I was young, I met an extraordinary man who taught me a secret technique that allows me to travel a thousand li in a day. Visiting all these scenic spots is no difficulty at all.” Upon hearing this, his colleagues were amazed.

One day, Wei Xianpei returned from an outing looking panicked. Someone asked him what had happened. He said: “Yesterday I was touring Mount Huang and climbed to the absolute summit of Tiandu Peak. Unexpectedly, I encountered a wild monk who insisted on competing in martial arts with me. Because I was empty-handed and feared I could not defeat him, I hurriedly ran back. He chased me relentlessly from behind; in a matter of days, he will catch up to here.” His colleagues asked him why this was. He replied: “Only Tiandu Peak is the highest in Mount Huang. Halfway up, the peak suddenly narrows, just like the neck of a gourd, so it is rarely visited. I recently heard that Gan Fengchi once climbed to the summit. At the peak, he saw a mat shed, and inside the shed, a young woman was weeping. Gan Fengchi stepped forward to inquire, only to find out she was a village woman from the foot of the mountain who had been kidnapped and brought up here by a demonic monk. He asked her where the demonic monk had gone. She said: ‘The monk goes out in the morning to beg for alms and returns to the peak in the evening. I am imprisoned here and can only wait for death.’ Gan Fengchi quickly comforted the woman, told her not to be afraid, carried her on his back down the mountain, and escorted her home. Gan Fengchi himself climbed back to the summit again and waited until evening, when the demonic monk returned. Catching the monk off guard, he struck out with his palm. The monk hastily grabbed Gan Fengchi’s arm, and the two plummeted off the peak together. Fortunately, Gan Fengchi landed on top of the monk; using all his death-defying strength, he strangled the monk to death.

That monk’s martial arts should have been higher than Gan Fengchi’s. If the monk had landed on top of Gan Fengchi, it would have been dangerous. Perhaps the monk’s record of evils was full, and Heaven was angry, thus using Gan Fengchi’s hand to kill the demonic monk. Whenever I heard this story, I greatly admired Gan Fengchi’s character, so I wanted to climb to the summit to investigate his traces. Unexpectedly, just as I reached the summit, I saw another mat shed. Looking into the shed, I saw a monk sitting quietly inside practicing Qi cultivation. The monk saw me, glared at me from the corner of his eye, saw that I was no ordinary person, and spat out a stream of blue-green vapor from his mouth, trying to strike first. I recognized this as the art of the sword, and quickly fled. Had I not run fast, I am afraid I would have lost my life. I estimate that this monk will arrive here in a few days. This monk is pushing me too far; I have no choice but to blunt his arrogance a little. If you gentlemen have the courage, you may watch from the sidelines.”

A day later, the monk indeed arrived in pursuit, repeatedly shouting and challenging Wei Xianpei to come out and compete in martial arts. Wei Xianpei smiled and said to the bystanders: “This wild monk overestimates his own strength; I can no longer forgive him!” So, he came out and set a time with the monk, agreeing to duel south of Jingting Mountain at the second watch of the night. Some busybody onlookers formed groups and went to watch the battle.

At the second watch of the night, the crescent moon was hanging in the sky, its moonlight slanting westward, complemented by sparse, twinkling stars. When the people arrived there, they saw Wei Xianpei and the monk standing opposite each other, separated by some distance. The monk spat out a stream of blue-green vapor from his mouth, while Wei Xianpei spat out a stream of white vapor from his. The two streams of vapor collided in the air and immediately began to fight. The blue-green and the white spiraled and struck at each other in mid-air, resembling winged dragons; the flashing lights and shadows also resembled snow and lightning. The onlookers were all dumbfounded, staring blankly. After a short while, the blue-green vapor gradually darkened, while the white vapor grew even brighter. Suddenly, there was a crack like the tearing of a piece of silk, and the white light abruptly sliced the blue-green light in two at the waist. The blue-green vapor fell to the ground and extinguished without a trace, while the white vapor made a direct dash for the monk’s head. The monk was terrified, prostrated himself on the ground, kowtowed, and bowed, begging Wei Xianpei to spare his life. Wei Xianpei smiled and said: “I was just joking with you, why are you so terrified? If you abandon that martial arts of yours and pursue the righteous path, I will spare you.” The monk nodded in agreement. Wei Xianpei then sucked the white vapor back into his mouth and waved his hand to let the monk go. The monk kowtowed and bowed again, covered his face with his sleeve, and fled. The faces of the bystanders all changed color, and they were so astonished that they stuck their tongues out. Someone asked:

Wei Xianpei what kind of martial art this was. Wei Xianpei said: “It is all the art of the sword. The blue-green vapor he cultivated is the female blade, which represents the crooked and heterodox path. The white vapor I cultivated is the male blade, which is the righteous path. The female cannot overcome the male, which means that evil cannot overcome righteousness. He relied on this heterodox sword art to run rampant across the land, practically unrivaled in the world; only I could defeat him. Now that his sword has been broken by me, he has become a useless man, and I can be considered to have eliminated a menace for the people. When I was touring Mount Huang the day before yesterday, I had left my sword in the leather case and didn’t carry it on me. Otherwise, we would have settled the score and dueled for supremacy right at Tiandu Peak.”

The spectators returned to the official residence and reported the event to the Prefect. The Prefect was also astonished and repeatedly called it bizarre. The next morning, the Prefect went to see Wei Xianpei, intending to invite him to demonstrate his sword art. But upon arriving at his quarters, he found the room completely empty; the man and his belongings had all vanished without a trace.

(Qing Dynasty · Xu Shuping, Licheng)

Spiritual Wisdom and Divine Mechanisms

The Impoverished Physiognomist of the Capital

Wang Heng, courtesy name Yanchu, was a native of Mingzhou. From a young age he studied diligently with great determination, aspiring to success in the civil examinations. At the age of twenty, holding the status of a xiucai (licentiate), he traveled to the capital, Kaifeng, to participate in the provincial examination. Because his family’s circumstances were not prosperous, the silver he had brought with him was insufficient for daily expenses, so after completing the examination he had no choice but to live frugally. The other candidates, by contrast, took the opportunity to enjoy themselves — some calling on teachers and visiting friends, exchanging social calls; some forming groups to admire the spring scenery, composing and exchanging poems; and others drinking, carousing with courtesans, composing verses on the wind and moon. In short, all were awaiting the court’s release of the results roster, and until then saw no harm in making merry. Only Wang Heng, because —

— his purse was nearly empty, declined his companions’ invitations and simply sat idly in his inn, wishing for nothing more than that the roster be released a day sooner.

On the day before the roster was to be posted, Wang Heng spent half the day reading his books, but the words made no sense to him. He set the scroll aside in frustration and gazed out the doorway, his mind turning over tomorrow’s outcome. Suddenly he felt someone before him bow with hands clasped. He looked closely and saw a man dressed as a scholar, yet his clothing and cap were unkempt, with many tears and holes. His exact age was hard to determine, but he appeared to be somewhere between forty and fifty. His complexion was haggard and careworn, and he looked rather like a beggar. Wang Heng felt quite put off and turned his gaze away. The impoverished scholar suddenly spoke up: “The young xiucai is surely waiting for the examination results to be posted, is he not?” Wang Heng’s heart tightened; he answered yes. Noticing that the man was scrutinizing him unblinkingly, he then asked: “Sir, you must be a physiognomist, I presume? Will I pass this examination?” The man neither confirmed nor denied it. After a pause, he said: “Could the xiucai share a few cups of wine with me? If so, I will tell you.” Wang Heng felt a surge of disappointment and said helplessly: “I am worrying right now about travel money for the journey home — where would I find money for wine?” The man said “Ah,” then fumbled in his sleeve for quite a while and pulled out a handful of coins — perhaps several hundred cash — and said: “This should be enough for drinking.” Wang Heng was astonished that this man, so shabby himself, could yet be so generous, and so he went along with him.

The two arrived at a tavern, exchanged pleasantries for a while, and began drinking together. After several cups, their faces flushed warm. Wang Heng bowed across the table and asked respectfully: “The results will be posted tomorrow, and I don’t know whether I will pass or fail. Please divine it for me.” The man set down his wine cup, waved his hand slightly, and said: “Not so. The roster will not be released until the day after tomorrow. It will not come out tomorrow.” Wang Heng hurriedly said: “I just saw with my own eyes the imperial officer being dispatched to the examination hall to open the sealed examination papers. Why would there be a delay of two nights?” The man took a sip of wine and said: “I only know that the results will be released the day after tomorrow. As for the reason, I do not know. But you have not passed this time. You will not succeed until you reach the age of fifty-eight.” Wang Heng was immediately deflated and said bitterly: “By what you say, my prospects cannot be very promising.” Seeing his distress, the man hastened to console him: “Though your attainment of degree will come late, you will still accomplish things of note. Once you pass the jinshi examination, you will be appointed to office in the capital. In less than three years, you will be promoted to the rank of ministerial director. You will then serve as chief administrator in several major prefectures and hold the position of intendant. Your lifespan will reach eighty years. Seen in that light, your prospects are indeed quite promising.” But Wang Heng, preoccupied with the current examination results and having learned that nearly forty more years of hardship and struggle awaited him, felt despondent and sorrowful in his heart. That —

The bystandander, seeing this, offered a few words of persuasion, paid the wine bill, and departed gracefully.

Wang Heng left the flag-tower tavern, his heart half-believing and half-doubting. In a daze, he returned to his inn and sat alone, his thoughts in even greater turmoil. On the one hand, he thought: if the results are published tomorrow as usual, then that man’s words cannot be trusted — and by all rights, the results should indeed be published tomorrow. On the other hand, he thought: that man’s bearing and behavior were extraordinary, unlike those of an ordinary swindling fortune-teller; surely he would not deceive me. Unconsciously, he walked to the doorway, and suddenly spotted a young servant hurrying past. Looking closely, he recognized him as a servant boy from his dormitory at the Imperial Academy. He quickly called out to stop him and asked, “Will they still post the results tomorrow?” The servant boy replied, “The examination papers got mixed up by the staff below and are still being sorted out, so the results have been postponed to the day after tomorrow.” Wang Heng was greatly startled, and then felt profound admiration for the man’s miraculous foresight. His mind, in fact, became more at ease.

Two days later, Wang Heng went with the crowd to see the results, and indeed his name was not on the list. Wang Heng felt no sorrow. He slipped out of the crowd and searched everywhere in the city for that fortune-teller, but there was no trace of him. He asked people about him, but no one knew the man.

Wang Heng’s subsequent experiences turned out exactly as the man had predicted. In the Jichou year of the Daguo reign of the Song dynasty, Wang Heng, at the age of fifty-eight, passed the examinations and achieved fame. In the early Jianyan era, he served as Transport Commissioner for the Jingxi region. The Jia Zhi once recorded the poem he composed in his dream.

(Song dynasty — Hong Mai, Yijian Zhi)

The Daoist’s Miraculous Physiognomy

There was a man from Jiangyin whose family possessed considerable wealth, making him one of the richest men in the area. This man had been prosperous all his life, but by the time he was over forty years old, he still had no son. In order to have an heir to continue the family line, he decided to purchase a concubine, and his entire household approved without exception. This concubine, surnamed Li, indeed lived up to everyone’s hopes — after one year, she gave birth to a plump baby boy. The whole family was wild with joy and treasured the child like a jewel. Having gained a son, the wealthy man was thoroughly satisfied and had no further anxieties about posterity.

One day, the wealthy man was indoors, amusing his son with laughter, when he suddenly heard a commotion at the gate.

It turned out that a Daoist priest had come knocking at the door asking for food. The gatekeeper, afraid that he would spoil the master’s enjoyment, refused to let him in. The two could not come to an agreement and thus broke into a noisy argument. The wealthy man set down the child and came out to see what was happening. When the Daoist saw him, he clasped his hands together and said in a loud voice: “Though I am but a coarse man from the remote mountains and wilderness, I have long heard of your great name. Learning that you have joyfully gained a noble son, I have come specially to offer my congratulations and, incidentally, to beg a cup of wine. Who would have thought that your household servants would refuse to let me in!” On hearing this, the wealthy man scolded the servants away and invited the Daoist inside. He seated the Daoist properly, and the two exchanged some casual conversation while he ordered the servants to set out a feast.

The Daoist was not the least bit polite about it — he ate and drank heartily, downing over thirty cups in succession without showing any sign of intoxication. Instead, his spirits grew ever more robust and his conversation ever more animated. Seeing this, the wealthy man was inwardly astonished and thought to himself that this Daoist must surely be no ordinary person. He hurriedly asked whether the Daoist possessed some wondrous technique, and whether he might also teach it to him. The Daoist said, “I have no other particular ability, but I do know how to read people’s faces and predict whether they will be rich or poor, noble or humble — never have I been wrong.” The wealthy man quickly removed his hat and asked the Daoist to read his physiognomy. The Daoist examined him carefully for a long time before saying: “The bone structure throughout your entire body exudes a worldly quality, and all five of your facial features carry a turbid energy. The fine hairs on your face are nearly an inch long. These are the marks of wealth and nobility.” The wealthy man nodded repeatedly. But the Daoist shifted the tone of his words and continued: “Unfortunately, there is a clear energy at your temples that penetrates deep into your flesh, and faintly visible hunger lines appear. I fear that in the future you will not be able to avoid suffering from hunger and starvation.” The wealthy man was unconvinced and protested: “Ah, sir, I fear your words are mistaken. With my modest household wealth, even if I no longer put it to business for profit, simply sitting at home and living off the capital would be more than enough to last my grandchildren’s generation.” The Daoist smiled and said, “This is determined by fate; it is something difficult for a person to calculate.” The wealthy man did not press the matter further and called forth his family members one by one for the Daoist to examine, but after looking at everyone, the Daoist kept his mouth shut and said nothing. Just then, the wet nurse carried the son forward. The Daoist took one look and exclaimed in alarm: “This is the ruiner of the family fortune!” The wealthy man turned pale with fright and hastily said to the Daoist: “Sir, please look at the child’s physiognomy once more — what does it truly say?” The Daoist pondered briefly, then pointed at the child and said: “According to this child’s destined pattern, at age twelve he will enter the county school, at fifteen he will pass the xiucai examination, at sixteen he will become a jinshi, his official career will proceed smoothly, and he will serve as an official in the Hanlin Academy. However, this child will likely not live a long life.” On hearing this, the wealthy man was half-doubting and asked: “By your account, this child will bring no harm to the family — how then can you call him the ruiner of the family fortune?”

The Daoist said: “It is like this — talent and wealth are mutually destructive, and the two cannot coexist. The reason you yourself now possess a family fortune of millions is precisely because for five or six generations your family has not produced a single person who could read a word. Now your son has considerable scholarly talent and can write fine essays; should he enter the Hanlin Academy as an official, I fear that your family’s mountain of money, a hundred zhang high, will be reduced to nothing.” The wealthy man still did not quite believe it and merely offered perfunctory replies, clearly displeased in his heart. Seeing that there was no pleasure in drinking further, the Daoist took his leave and departed.

The son gradually grew older, and the wealthy man hired renowned teachers to instruct him in his studies. The child was extremely intelligent — the Five Classics, the Records of the Grand Historian, and the Book of Han: once he had read them, he could commit them all firmly to memory. But from that time on, no matter whether the wealthy man engaged in commerce or craft, though he worked diligently without slackening and planned in every conceivable way, he could not turn a profit. Over the course of four or five years, heaven knows how much capital he had lost. When the son reached age twelve, he indeed entered the county school, and that very same year the wealthy man’s pawnshop was destroyed by fire. To compensate for the pawned goods, he had to spend tens of thousands of taels of silver. Three years later, the son was recommended as a xiaolian (filial and incorrupt candidate). But the seven ocean-going ships the wealthy man had purchased that year all sank at sea, and many of the crewmen perished. The families of the crewmen banded together and brought a lawsuit at the local magistrate’s office. In his desperation, the wealthy man sold off all his fertile farmland at cut-rate prices and bribed officials up and down the yamen, and only then was he spared from corporal punishment. The following year, the son passed the capital examination and was awarded the title of shuchang (Probationary Hanlin Scholar). By the time the golden-lettered announcement of success was delivered to his home, the wealthy man, his wife, and his concubine had already moved into a dilapidated little hut. Nevertheless, upon receiving the joyful news, the wealthy man still calculated in his heart that once his son achieved an honored position, he could restore the family’s standing. Unexpectedly, half a year later, the son died at his official post. From then on, the wealthy man abandoned all hope and had no choice but to sell off his pitiful remaining properties to get by. In the end, he was forced to move out of the little hut, and the three family members went begging from door to door. Under the grip of hunger and starvation, within a year or two, all three of them died one after another — a most tragic end.

The Daoist’s predictions of former days were fully and completely fulfilled in the wealthy man’s family.

(Qing dynasty — Shen Qifeng, Xieduo)

Zhang was the son of a salt merchant. In his childhood, he was weak and often sick, so he did not study much. However, he was quick-thinking, possessed exceptionally strong comprehension, and could grasp the meaning of whatever books he read. Upon reaching adulthood, feeling that his physical constitution was too weak, he was unwilling to marry. One day, while at a friend’s house, he saw a copy of Da Liu Wang [Da Liu Ren] placed on a table. Excitedly holding the book, he asked his friend for instruction. The friend said, “Although I also understand its meaning, my understanding is still quite superficial.” He then told him the general meaning of the book. Zhang took the book home

to read, unwilling to put it down, and he purchased other books of this kind to deliberate over and ponder. Whenever he heard that someone treasured a rare, secret edition, he would spare no high price and fear no long journey, always managing to acquire it. If the owner was unwilling to sell, he would personally go and copy it down. As a result, the books he treasured filled his house, and moreover, many were ones that ordinary people had never seen before. Zhang immersed himself in research amid his piles of books for ten years. One day, he finally achieved a great awakening. He said to people, “The Great Way is not far from people, but this is not something that can be fully explained by books.” He then packed the books away and no longer looked at them. However, ten years of arduous study had given Zhang the ability [1] to predict events; there was not a single instance where his predictions did not come true.

Once, Zhang suddenly said to his older brother and sister-in-law: “This house can no longer be lived in. Quickly go to a certain relative’s house to temporarily borrow lodgings; there is still time!” His brother replied, “The house has been passed down from our ancestors. We have lived here for over a hundred years, with abundant food and clothing, and the whole family is safe and sound. There is nothing bad about it. Now you want to live at a relative’s house; won’t that make us a laughingstock? Furthermore, moving is not easy, so do not speak of this anymore.” No matter how many times he pleaded, his brother and sister-in-law firmly refused. Having no alternative, Zhang went to plead with his own mother, saying, “If we do not move within ten days, then I will be an extremely unfilial son, and will surely be condemned by Heaven and suffer disaster.” His mother had always loved him dearly, and seeing that his panic was entirely genuine, she ordered her eldest son to relocate. Under his mother’s pressure, his brother went to the relative’s house to borrow a room. The relative indeed found this very ridiculous, but in the end, agreed to lend the house. Zhang urged them to move every day, causing the whole family, from top to bottom, to complain, but he acted as if he had heard nothing. It was not until the ninth day, when his mother was in the old house urging the packing of their belongings, that he suddenly carried his mother on his back and ran out. They had just arrived at the relative’s house, and before they could even catch their breath, someone came to report that a fire had suddenly broken out in the neighbor’s house to the left. The fire spread to the Zhang family’s house, and in an instant, the buildings were reduced to ashes, while the Zhang family’s utensils and wealth remained perfectly intact. Afterwards, even those in the family who had complained were grateful to him. His mother and brother said to him, “Why didn’t you explain it clearly beforehand?” Zhang replied, “The mysteries of creation cannot be leaked in advance…”

Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities

One day, Zhang and his cousin, Wang Sheng, went together to a restaurant to eat. On their way to the restaurant, they met a friend, and Wang Sheng invited him to join them. In the restaurant,

after they finished their wine, the waiter brought out noodles. Zhang said, “Two bowls is enough. Why bring three?” Wang Sheng said, “There are three of us eating, how can we only have two bowls?” Zhang said, “One person won’t have time to eat.” The two of them picked up their chopsticks and smiled, saying, “So you also make mistakes today!” Before the sound of their voices had faded, someone from the friend’s family came to report that his mother’s illness had acted up and she was in danger, asking him to hurry home. Watching the friend put down his chopsticks and leave, Wang Sheng said, “Could my cousin be an immortal? Let’s finish eating quickly and then go to our friend’s house to check on his mother.” Zhang said, “It’s nothing to worry about. His mother is having a sha-illness; she will be fine in a little while.” After they finished, there was still one bowl of noodles left. The two of them were full and could not eat any more. Zhang said, “Just sell it.” Wang Sheng said, “Who would be willing [2] to buy leftover noodles?” Zhang borrowed a pen and wrote a note saying: “A man who must see the magistrate for an official matter, and whose surname has a ‘tiger’ radical at the top, will eat this bowl of noodles.” Wang Sheng then instructed the restaurant owner, saying, “Sell this bowl of noodles for me.” The owner smiled and agreed.

Penetrating Wisdom and Divine Mechanisms

Sure enough, a man covered in sweat walked into the restaurant. After sitting down, he impatiently asked for cold noodles. The owner picked up the leftover noodles from earlier and gave them to him, which was exactly what he wanted. Wang Sheng asked the man, “What is your honorable [3] surname? Why are you in such a hurry?” He replied, “My surname is Yu. Because I am pressured by an official matter and urgently need to see the magistrate, I need to eat cold noodles.”

Afterwards, the two of them went together to their friend’s house, and the friend came out to welcome them. When asked about his mother’s illness, it was indeed a sha-illness, and she had revived after falling into a coma. The friend’s family members had all gone out to fetch a doctor. At this time, the two of them were very thirsty, and there was no boiled water to make tea. Zhang said, “There are two large persimmons in the kitchen; eating them will be enough to quench our thirst.” The friend went to the kitchen to look, and indeed found the persimmons. He divided them and gave them to the two to eat before they departed.

That year, Wang Sheng’s son was returning home from the imperial examinations, and Wang Sheng and Zhang went out on the road to welcome him. Zhang said to Wang Sheng, “Is your son truly able to pass the exam this time? I have an item to give to you.” After speaking, he took out a small box, sealed tightly on the outside. He then instructed, “Take it home and hang it up. Do not open it to look until after the results are released. You cannot open it early, otherwise both you and I will soon face disaster.” Wang Sheng respectfully and carefully brought it home. After the results were posted, he opened the box to look. Inside was a completely intact list of successful candidates. He compared it with the official announcement list and found not a single discrepancy.

---

[1] The source OCR reads 本颌, a typographical error for 本领 (ability). [2] The source OCR reads 青, a typographical error for 肯. [3] The source OCR reads 责, a typographical error for 贵.

Later, Zhang fell ill, and his illness grew worse day by day. One day, an elderly merchant named Mr. Lu came to visit him. This man was simple and sincere, and upright in his dealings with others. Mr. Lu said to him, “It is a pity that you are naturally intelligent, yet you do not learn a proper trade. You have spent all your energy on things of no benefit, exhausted your heart’s blood, and contracted such a grave illness. Do you regret it now?”

Zhang said, “The length of one’s life is ordained by Heaven. Whether one knows one’s fate or not, one still dies. But how can living in muddled confusion compare with living in clear understanding?”

Mr. Lu said, “People say you can foresee things that have not yet happened. Perhaps that is true, but can you know in detail what I am thinking in my heart right now?”

Zhang said, “Let me make a determination for you. Step aside for a moment.” He then took up a brush to make calculations, afterward wrote out a slip, sealed it firmly in a small box, and said to Mr. Lu, “Take it home and open it this evening.” Mr. Lu did as he said and returned to the street to continue his business. That evening, after settling his accounts, he opened the box Zhang had given him and found inside a detailed list of his day’s income and expenditures, with not a single error in the accounts. Mr. Lu was wholeheartedly convinced. He came again and said to Zhang, “Since you possess such high ability, are you not an immortal? Why then would an immortal also fall ill? I do not understand.”

Zhang said, “I have not yet attained the state of an immortal. At present, only two of my six apertures have opened. Unfortunately, I understood these things too late, and moreover I clung to those limited abilities, unable to develop toward higher levels of power so as to refine my own vital essence into an elixir. This is the will of Heaven! If I could have been allowed to live a few more years, I would have reached the realm of the immortals. But there is nothing to be done. My life will end on such-and-such a day of such-and-such a month. From now on we part forever. How sorrowful!” The two faced each other and wept bitterly. Before long, on the very day Zhang had specified, he indeed died.

(Qing dynasty — Wu Chichang, Zheng Xu Kechuang Yehua [“Continued Night Talks by the Guest Window”])

Penetrating the Divine Mechanism: Foretelling Matters Like a God

Although Zhou Dian was a maddened and eccentric figure, he had an extraordinary association with Zhu Yuanzhang, the founding emperor Taizu of the Ming dynasty. Later, when people reported that he had died, Emperor Taizu personally composed the Zhou Dian Xian Zhuan (“Biography of the Immortal Zhou Dian”) to record his deeds.

Zhou Dian was a native of Jianchang Prefecture in Jiangxi. Although his family was poor and their life was hard, he grew up clever, sharp, and lively.

Unfortunately, at the age of fourteen he fell ill with madness. Whenever an attack came upon him, he would speak incoherently and behave erratically. Once he ran

from home and went to Nanchang city, where he lived by begging. Seeing that his speech was disordered and his behavior utterly unrestrained, people all called him “Dian” — “the Madman.”

At first Zhou Dian simply had no fixed abode and wandered about. As he gradually grew older, people discovered that extraordinary qualities often manifested in him. He would frequently mutter strange words to people; at first no one took him seriously, but later many things came true as he had said. For a period, he would say to everyone he met, “Proclaiming peace, proclaiming peace.” At that time the world was at peace, the four seas were tranquil, and the people lived and worked in contentment. People did not know what he meant by “proclaiming peace.” Before long, Chen Youliang rose in rebellion in the south, and Nanchang was quickly occupied. For a time, chaos of war reigned and the common people fled in all directions. Zhou Dian also fled from Nanchang.

Later, conflicts broke out in all quarters. Zhu Yuanzhang overcame the many rival warlords one by one and led his army southward, capturing Nanchang. When Zhu Yuanzhang led his troops into the city, Zhou Dian waited respectfully by the city gate to pay his respects. Zhu Yuanzhang saw that this person was crazed and his speech was unclear, so he paid him no attention. Several days later, Zhu Yuanzhang secretly returned to Nanjing, and Zhou Dian too arrived in Nanjing at some unknown time. One day, when Zhu Yuanzhang went out to inspect, Zhou Dian pushed his way out of the crowd and bowed in greeting. Seeing that it was the same man he had encountered in Nanchang, Emperor Taizu was quite displeased, but considering that the man’s mind was disordered, he asked him mildly, “What have you come to do?” Zhou Dian only looked at the emperor with an ambiguous half-smile, opened his mouth, and said, “Proclaiming peace.” Zhu Yuanzhang also did not know what this “proclaiming peace” meant. Thereafter, wherever he went, this Zhou Dian would inexplicably appear before the emperor and repeatedly report to him, “Proclaiming peace.”

Zhu Yuanzhang finally grew furious. He ordered his men to bring a large earthen vat, place it over Zhou Dian’s head, and then pile firewood all around it and set it ablaze to burn him. At the command, a roaring fire instantly flared up, with flames rising more than a zhang high; within several zhang in every direction, no one dared approach. After burning for nearly a full shichen, the firewood was at last consumed. The onlookers assumed that by this time Zhou Dian must have been reduced to a heap of white bones. Yet when they lifted the great vat, they could not help but be astonished. They saw Zhou Dian sitting on the ground, completely unharmed, without the slightest injury on his whole body — only his crown was slightly moist with perspiration. Seeing this sight, those present were so terrified that they dared not even approach him. At that moment, Zhou Dian slowly rose to his feet, wiped the sweat from his crown, turned, and walked away. For a time, all who were present marveled.

When Zhu Yuanzhang learned of this matter, he too found it very strange, so he had him stay in a temple on Mount Jiang. But before long, the monks at the temple came to report that Zhou Dian was unreasonable and often fought with the young monks over food. The abbot decided to stop providing him with meals, and he had already gone half a month without eating anything. Zhu Yuanzhang found this extremely interesting and personally went to visit him. Although he had not eaten for half a month, his face showed not the slightest sign of hunger. Seeing the Emperor come to see him, Zhou Dian appeared overjoyed, so the Emperor ordered that a lavish feast be prepared to entertain him. Zhou Dian did not stand on ceremony; in a single sitting he ate enough food for seven or eight people, and the chefs standing nearby were all dumbfounded. After the meal, the Emperor ordered that he be locked in a room with all food and drink cut off, wanting to see exactly how long Zhou Dian could go without eating. A full month passed, and when Zhu Yuanzhang sent someone to check on him, they saw that he was still as healthy and robust as before. Zhu Yuanzhang was astonished upon hearing the news. He felt that Zhou Dian was indeed no ordinary person, and immediately ordered him to be released. Seeing that Zhou Dian had not eaten for a month, many soldiers vied to offer him wine and meat, but the moment he ate anything, he would vomit it all back up. Yet when he ate together with the Emperor, he did not vomit at all.

After that, Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang always kept Zhou Dian by his side and frequently sought his counsel on various matters. Once, when the Emperor was about to dispatch troops to campaign against Chen Youliang, he asked Zhou Dian just before setting out: “Is it advisable to send troops this time?” Zhou Dian replied: “Yes.” The Emperor then asked: “Chen Youliang has already declared himself Emperor of Han — will it be particularly difficult to defeat him?” Zhou Dian raised his head, gazed at the sky for a moment, and replied solemnly: “Do not worry. There is no seat for him in heaven.” When the army set out, the fleet advanced grandly with the aid of the wind. But when the fleet reached Anci, the wind suddenly died completely, and the fleet could only move forward slowly. Due to the urgency of the military campaign, the soldiers were very anxious. The Emperor immediately sent someone to ask Zhou Dian, who answered without hesitation: “There will be a great wind after going another li forward.” So Zhu Yuanzhang ordered soldiers to get into the river and pull the boats forward. They had gone exactly one li when a great wind indeed rose up on the river, and the fleet quickly reached Xiaogu Mountain, carried by the wind.

During the campaign against Chen Youliang, Zhu Yuanzhang’s army fell into difficulty at one point, and the situation became extremely perilous. The Emperor asked Zhou Dian what the reason was, and Zhou Dian spoke bluntly: “It is destined to be this way.” The Emperor was very displeased upon hearing this. Fearing that Zhou Dian’s reckless talk would demoralize the troops, he sent people to keep watch over him. When the boats reached Mount Dang at Pengze County in Jiangxi, Zhou Dian saw river porpoises playing in the water and sighed: “When water monsters appear, many will be lost.” The people guarding him immediately reported his words to the Emperor. Seeing that Zhou Dian kept speaking inauspicious words, the Emperor secretly ordered someone to throw him into the river. As it turned out, in the engagements with Chen Youliang, Zhu Yuanzhang’s forces suffered heavy losses. Afterwards, no one expected that when the army made a temporary encampment at Hujiang County in Jiangxi, Zhou Dian miraculously appeared before everyone, brazenly begging for food. When the Emperor learned of this, he was quite astonished and immediately had food prepared for him. After eating, he tidied his clothes, made as if preparing for a long journey, bade farewell, and departed.

After pacifying Chen Youliang, the Emperor greatly missed Zhou Dian and sent people to Mount Lu and other places to find him, but they could not locate him.

(Qing Dynasty · Zhang Peiren, Miaoxiangshi Conghua)

The One Who Knows Beforehand

Zheng Yangtian was a native of Hui’an in Quanzhou. As a child, he had poor natural endowments; he spent his days in a muddle, slow-witted and dull, completely ignorant of matters of livelihood. His parents gradually developed aversion and disgust toward him and frequently beat and scolded him. Zheng Yangtian was deeply saddened and, in a fit of anger, ran away from home, fleeing to Hanan. In order to have a mouthful to eat, he worked for a temple planting fields and cooking, and also did rough labor. Working from dawn to dusk at the temple, he practically became the temple’s cook and handyman. Zheng Yangtian worked at the

temple for two full years. Two years of hardship had made his body very robust, his dark skin gleaming. Yet he was still somewhat dull-witted.

One day, the temple’s bells and drums sounded together, and the monks one after another stopped what they were doing and gathered in the main hall. Zheng Yangtian, however, kept his head down and continued working, paying no attention to the sound of bells and drums, for he was not a monk. Suddenly a novice monk came running, saying the abbot had summoned him. He was quite puzzled but had no choice but to follow along. In the main hall, all the monks of the temple were assembled, neatly dressed in their robes. Zheng Yangtian kept his head bowed, nervously wringing the corner of his garment as he took a seat in the lower position. His clothes were patch upon patch, battered and worn. The old abbot stood on the dharma platform. Though he was already past seventy, his brows and beard snow-white, he carried himself with an imposing bearing. In a resonant voice he summoned Zheng Yangtian to his side, then addressed the assembled monks: “Though you have all entered the temple for many years, your cultivation and attainment cannot compare with his.” Zheng Yangtian sat awkwardly, not knowing what to do. When the monks heard these words, they were all furious, yet none dared say a word. That evening, the monks dragged Zheng Yangtian out and cursed him viciously: “You wretched boy, we took you in out of pity back then. We have cultivated ourselves for years, yet now we are told we are inferior to you! Get out! Go practice your cultivation out there!” With that, they beat and kicked him and drove him out. Zheng Yangtian now had no idea where to go. He wandered in the wilderness for over ten days, cold and hungry. Thinking of his miserable past, he could not help but wail loudly. Suddenly, the old abbot appeared beside him and said: “Good disciple, do not cry. I have been waiting for you for a long time.” Zheng Yangtian was astonished, but at least now he had someone to rely on, so he followed the abbot. The abbot led him deep into the mountains, and there Zheng Yangtian learned from the abbot the mnemonic formulas for dissecting characters. After a little over a month, he was able to recognize characters. The abbot also gave him a black cloth bag and told him to study diligently on his own. He seemed to have grown much cleverer, and quickly mastered the various magical arts hidden within the black cloth bag, including rentong (spiritual communication) and shefu (divination by concealment).

Later, after Zheng Yangtian emerged from the mountains and returned to the complicated secular world, he set himself up as a fortune-teller. Each time he finished a divination for someone, if the person wished to pay, he would accept it; if not, he took no offense. He treated everyone equally, whether they were talented or dull-witted, of noble or humble status. Upon meeting anyone, apart from pressing his palms together and bowing in greeting, he would say nothing further. However, after spending some time with others, he could come to know their

[Entering Transformation and Transcendence — Extraordinary Abilities]

their secrets and thoughts, but could also predict that person’s future development and changes. However, he never explained the basis for making such predictions. Every time he examined a person, he saw through them completely. Those who were arrogant, conceited, and looked down on everyone would become humble before Zheng Yangtian. With a few meaningful, double-entendre remarks, Zheng Yangtian could pierce through their private matters, and they dared not harbor any resentment whatsoever, because they feared their secrets would be exposed and they would no longer be able to hold their place in the world. People all found him extraordinarily miraculous, so Zheng Yangtian’s reputation spread ever wider and farther.

In the early Tianqi reign of the Ming Dynasty, several commanderies in the south were to change their governors, and who would be appointed to these positions was unknown. Mr. Nanle thus came to seek Zheng Yangtian’s counsel. He wrote the character “全” (quán, meaning “complete/whole”) for him to dissect and divine. Zheng Yangtian looked at the character, pondered for a moment, and said: “The character ‘全’ is composed of ‘人’ (person) and ‘王’ (king). ‘王’ has four strokes — you have come to read four people.” Mr. Nanle said: “Exactly! I would also ask you, sir, to divine the names of these four people.” Zheng Yangtian told him: “Look — if you remove three strokes from ‘全,’ it becomes the character ‘土’ (earth); one of them has the character ‘土’ in their surname. If you remove four strokes from ‘全,’ it becomes the character ‘丁’; one of them is surely surnamed ‘丁.’ Then, if you remove two strokes from ‘全’ and rearrange the strokes horizontally and vertically, it turns into the character ‘木’ (wood); one person’s name is certainly related to ‘木.’ And if not a single stroke is removed, then there is one whose name is ‘全.‘” Mr. Nanle asked softly: “Could that ‘木’ refer to Minister ‘林’ (Lin, meaning ‘forest’)?” Zheng Yangtian turned his face away and said: “A single tree does not make a forest — it is a given name, not a surname.” After saying this, he ignored him no further. Later, the names of the officials appointed as governors of the four commanderies of Putian, Guichi, Yuancheng, and Zhuozhou matched exactly, without the slightest discrepancy, with Zheng Yangtian’s predictions.

At that time, the eunuch faction was throwing the realm into chaos, and many officials were persecuted. The governor of Jinjiang, Li Yi, was demoted due to being sidelined by the eunuch faction’s Wu Chunfu. Li Yi was extremely indignant, with nowhere to voice his grievances. He very much wished to know how much longer Wu Chunfu could run rampant, so he came to seek Zheng Yangtian’s counsel. He wrote the character “吞” (tūn, meaning “swallow”) and asked how it should be dissected. Zheng Yangtian looked at it and smiled, saying: “The character ‘吞’ is composed of ‘天’ (heaven) above and ‘口’ (mouth) below. The person you ask about is surnamed ‘吴’ (Wu), isn’t he! His power is quite considerable — he’s about to swallow you whole. He is no small enemy!” Li Yi quickly clasped his hands in greeting and said: “What you say is exactly right, sir. Then may I venture to ask what will happen hereafter?” Zheng Yangtian said: “This

gentleman need not worry. Look — the character ‘吴’ has ‘口’ (mouth) at its head, while ‘吞’ (swallow) has ‘口’ at its bottom. This ‘head’ of ‘吴’ has already fallen to the ground — how much longer can he run rampant? Do you still need to be afraid?” After hearing this, Li Yi left happily. A year later, Wu Chunfu indeed committed an offense against his superiors due to his excessive power and was beheaded.

Wei Zhongxian did as he pleased, and people called him “Nine Thousand Years” (a title nearly equal to the Emperor’s “Ten Thousand Years”). He was always worried about his future fate. After hearing of Zheng Yangtian, he summoned Zheng Yangtian to divine his fortune. On the day Zheng Yangtian went to the Wei residence, he was dressed head to toe in tattered rags, his hair was a complete mess, his long whiskers had not been shaved for a long time, and he looked like a beggar. He stumbled along to the Wei mansion, pretending to be somewhat mad and foolish. Upon reaching the hall, he performed a palms-together salute to Wei Zhongxian for a very long time before taking his seat. Wei Zhongxian casually wrote the character “囚” (qiú, meaning “prisoner”) and showed it to Zheng Yangtian. The henchmen of Wei Zhongxian standing on either side, upon seeing this character, were all frightened stiff, their faces turning pale, because for them this character was truly inauspicious. Zheng Yangtian looked at it, dropped to his knees with a “thud” before Wei Zhongxian, and [illegible] Wei Zhongxian was greatly pleased after hearing this and rewarded Zheng Yangtian with a large amount of silver. After leaving the Wei residence, Zheng Yangtian said to his friend: “‘囚’ literally means a prisoner — why dissect it further? Wei Zhongxian, this castrated donkey, has thrown the court into turmoil. If not him, then who should be imprisoned! At the Wei household I merely used honeyed words to make him happy, so that I could escape.” Afterward, the eunuch faction’s power grew ever greater; the Eastern Depot and Western Depot spread throughout the entire nation, and people could not sit still, suffering unspeakably. Yu Shaoqing was a good friend of Zheng Yangtian’s. Facing this situation, like everyone else, he dared to be angry but did not dare to speak. He secretly came to Zheng Yangtian’s home to ask what would become of Wei Zhongxian. Zheng Yangtian was lying at home. He pointed to a broken well rope hanging from the beam above and said: “He’s like a rabbit’s tail — it won’t grow long. Just like this!” Yu Shaoqing was puzzled at the time. Not long after, the Emperor dispatched men to suppress the eunuch faction, and Wei Zhongxian hanged himself. Only then did Yu Shaoqing suddenly grasp the meaning of the well rope.

Zheng Yangtian was a man who valued righteousness, willing to go through fire and water for his friends and to take a knife in the ribs. He and a certain Qian of Yushan were a pair of intimate friends who held nothing back from each other and who respected and helped one another. In the winter of the Bingzi year, Qian was framed by treacherous officials and was dismissed from office pending trial. Zheng Yangtian, while in Fujian, had already calculated that Qian would face peril, so he traveled day and night through wind and rain, rushing from Fujian to Qingjiangpu to see him. This matter, at the time

The matter caused a tremendous uproar, and the imperial court dispatched officials to Chang’an City to investigate the facts of the case. In order to learn the situation in Chang’an as early as possible, Zheng Yangtian once again traveled on foot to Chang’an. When Qian was taken to Dezhou, Zheng hastily rushed back on foot from Chang’an to inform Qian of the situation. He was already eighty-two years old at the time, yet his health was excellent. He walked as swiftly as a galloping horse — even strong and vigorous young men could not keep up with him. Later, he accompanied Qian to Zhengzhou to verify the details of the case. As they neared Zhengzhou, dark clouds suddenly gathered, fierce winds howled, and heavy rain was imminent. He said he did not want his shoes to get wet, so he carried his shoes and socks in his hands and walked barefoot for over a hundred li. By the time he climbed up the Dongbi Tower of the Cheng family, the weather had cleared again, and the sun had not yet set. This frantic pace had exhausted everyone else thoroughly, yet Zheng Yangtian appeared leisurely and relaxed, breathing calmly, laughing and talking loudly, as though he had not been rushing on foot at all. That evening at the inn, Zheng Yangtian and Qian sat down to converse. Qian said sorrowfully: “I have met with some misfortune, and I alone should bear it, yet instead I have dragged you into hardship and toil. I truly feel apologetic.” Zheng Yangtian shook his head and said: “That is not right. You and I are friends — what does this amount to? I traveled day and night without rest, and thick calluses formed on my feet, all because your peril was imminent! In ancient times, Hou Ying said to Lord Xinling: what does an old man of seventy still seek? A scholar is willing to die for one who truly understands him — even if my head were cut off, it would only be one hole in the neck.” Qian was moved to tears and said: “I know that you are certainly not the kind of person who merely seeks the Daoist arts. You are one of those people of ancient times who truly possessed extraordinary abilities.” Zheng Yangtian laughed heartily upon hearing this. “I have traveled all across the land, north and south of the river, and have made many acquaintances, yet no one has known that I am unusual! You know me — you must also be an extraordinary person.” They talked until midnight before resting. A few days later, he said to Qian: “Rest assured. You will soon be fine. I have already calculated that the treacherous official will be dismissed from office in the seventh month, and your legal case will be resolved. However, your days of misfortune have not yet fully passed, so you must still be careful. It would be best if you wait until next year before coming out again. I will take my leave now. This winter I shall go to Yushan to attend to the matter of your mother’s burial plot. Do not worry.”

Later, Qian’s case was finally cleared completely. He was restored to his official post, and the treacherous individual received due punishment. However, when Qian returned home several times to see Zheng Yangtian, he refused to see him. In the spring of the jimao year, he suddenly packed his luggage to go visit Qian, and said to his family: “Tomorrow

a group of monks will come to my house to beg for alms. Prepare food for several people and wait. I will simply depart together with them.” The next day, just after dawn, he rose, bathed, changed his clothes, as if waiting for something. Before long, a group of monks arrived to beg for alms. After they had finished eating, Zheng Yangtian said to his son: “In three years, go tell Qian of Yushan, and tell him that after a few more years he should come find me at the east side of the Huqiu Temple in Suzhou.” Then he went indoors, sat cross-legged in meditation, and thus passed away silently.

(Qing dynasty — Qian Qianyi, Yuchu Xinzhi)

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Profound Wisdom and Divine Foresight

The Mad Monk

During the Kangxi reign of the Qing dynasty, in a small city’s bustling marketplace, a monk appeared at some unknown time. No one knew where he came from, and no one knew his Dharma name. This monk normally appeared mad and foolish, covered in grease and grime, his face caked with dirt — from a distance, he looked no different from a beggar. This monk never cared for wine, but loved to eat meat — no matter how much you gave him, he could devour it all. Regardless of spring, summer, autumn, or winter, through every change of season, he always wore that same tattered patched robe. The people of the marketplace all called

him the “Foolish Monk.”

He never spoke properly with anyone. He loved to laugh wildly and foolishly, rambling incoherently, and even cursing at people. Yet within his foolish ravings there seemed to be something hidden, something foretold — though no one understood. Only when events actually came to pass did people discover the true meaning within those words. In the city there was a wealthy man named Zhang Damu who ordinarily loved reciting sutras and practicing Chan meditation. After hearing about this Foolish Monk, he felt certain that this was no simple-minded monk, and decided to befriend him. The Foolish Monk also enjoyed discussing Chan with him, and they frequently associated with one another.

At that time, the Kangxi Emperor of the Qing dynasty was advanced in years, and the palace was locked in fierce struggle over who would inherit the throne. Ministers and commoners alike were anxious and uneasy, unable to predict who would succeed to the throne and govern the nation’s fate. Then news spread from the palace that the Crown Prince, Prince Yinreng, had been deposed, making the situation appear even more complicated and the future even harder to foresee. One day, Zhang Damu was discussing Chan with the Foolish Monk, but today Zhang seemed somewhat distracted. The Foolish Monk appeared to have already noticed, and said: “If your heart is not in Chan meditation, why sit idly in your room wasting the days? Would it not be more satisfying to eat meat?” Zhang Damu showed a look of shame, thinking to himself: the eminent monk must surely know who the Crown Prince will be. Yet he could not ask directly, so he probed with Chan language: “May I ask — when the Buddha attains the Way, to whom should the robe and bowl be passed?” The Foolish Monk immediately appeared very displeased. He rose and said angrily: “I knew you would ask this today! What does it have to do with you anyway? Has the robe and bowl not already been passed to you?” Having said this, he brushed his robes and left. Zhang Damu stood stunned for a long while, not understanding what his words meant. Before long, the Fourth Prince, Yongzheng, ascended the throne — this was the Qing Shizong emperor. At this point, Zhang Damu suddenly understood everything, because Zhang Damu was the fourth child in his family, and Yongzheng was also the Fourth Prince. Was not the Foolish Monk saying exactly that Yongzheng would succeed to the throne? Zhang Damu hurried to seek out the Foolish Monk again, but the Foolish Monk seemed not to recognize him at all.

The mother of Wang Shaozai, a wealthy man in the city, was Lady Jiang. She regularly observed vegetarian fasts, worshipped the Buddha, did good deeds, and accumulated merit. She frequently helped those in difficulty and was widely respected in the city. The old lady had also heard about the Foolish Monk and held him in great esteem. She personally sought him out and deliberately invited him to her home. When the Foolish Monk saw the old lady, he gladly followed her to the residence. The old lady treated him as an honored guest every day, serving lavish meals three times a day with generous hospitality.

To him. In the prince’s mansion, the Silly Monk felt as if he were in his own temple, acting very casually. He was happy all day long and often conversed with the old lady using Zen language. Others found it completely baffling, but the old lady always appeared full of vitality. One day after dinner, the Silly Monk suddenly grinned playfully and walked up to the old lady, looking as foolish as a child, saying, “Grand Lady, today I…” Seeing him like this, the old lady asked, “May I ask what the Eminent Monk wishes to do today?” The Silly Monk hesitated for a moment, then said loudly, “I want to sleep in your bed tonight.” After saying that, he burst into laughter. The servants on the side grew angry: “Silly Monk, normally the old lady treats you with generous hospitality and regards you as an honored guest, yet today you are so presumptuous. What is the meaning of this? Be careful, or we’ll chase you out like a dog!” The Silly Monk ignored them completely and kept on laughing. The old lady pondered for a moment and said to the servants, “Do not say much. Today the Eminent Monk is acting so wildly and foolishly; I think there must be an ineffable Zen mystery behind it. I will sleep in another bedroom today. You tidy up my bedroom and let the Eminent Monk rest there!” Seeing the old lady act like this, the servants did not dare to say anything more and had to comply, though they muttered in their hearts whether the old lady had also turned silly. That night, just like any other day, in the courtyard, the night wind rustled through the bushes. The entire mansion had gone to rest, appearing exceptionally quiet, with the sound of the night watchman’s clappers occasionally coming from afar. Suddenly, a loud “boom” shocked everyone in the mansion awake. The servants hurriedly got up to check and found that the roof of the old lady’s bedroom had collapsed, turning the room into a pile of rubble. The furniture inside was smashed into a chaotic mess. Hearing the noise, the old lady rushed over. Facing the ruined walls, she couldn’t help but shed tears and sighed, “Alas, I was originally supposed to suffer the calamity of a collapsing house and losing my life, and the Eminent Monk knew this early on. Yet, mindful of the friendship between us, he actually took my place with his own body. How should I…” Before she could finish her words, a clattering sound came from the rubble. They saw the Silly Monk crawling out from the middle of it, covered in dust. He patted himself down and walked towards the old lady with a smile. The old lady was stunned and quickly stepped forward, looking at him with concern and asking in confusion, “Eminent Monk, are you all right?” The monk patted his clothes and said, “I’m fine.” The old lady examined him closely; indeed, he did not have a single scratch on his skin, only some dust. He then said, “Look, I don’t know who is so petty; they got so angry just seeing me sleep in your bedroom that they even tore the house down. Alas, what a pity, such a fine house!” After speaking, he laughed long and loud. The entire mansion instantly understood the reason why the monk had wanted to sleep in

the old lady’s bedroom. A few years later, the old lady passed away at the end of her lifespan, and the Silly Monk moved away; no one could persuade him to stay. Later, the Silly Monk moved to the Xilin Temple outside the city. Xilin Temple was not large, but situated among green hills and clear waters, it was quite elegant and peaceful. The presiding abbot there had long heard of the Silly Monk’s deeds; moreover, he frequently received incense offerings from the old Lady Wang, so he also held the Silly Monk in great respect. When the Silly Monk arrived, he still wore that ragged monk’s robe and carried a tightly sealed bamboo basket on his back; he had nothing else. Inside the temple, the Silly Monk never wandered around aimlessly. He often stayed in his room watching his bamboo basket. Whenever he wanted to go out, he would always seek out the abbot and specifically entrust him, saying, “Although this bamboo basket may seem unremarkable to outsiders, it is of utmost importance to me. Please keep good care of it for me, and whatever you do, do not let anyone open it.” The abbot knew that he was always this mysterious all day long, and he also felt that the bamboo basket was certainly extraordinary, so he did not ask too much and simply kept it safely.

One day, a wandering monk arrived here. While begging for alms in the streets, he heard about the Silly Monk and found it quite interesting. He asked around and came to stay at Xilin Temple. He observed the Silly Monk in the temple for a few days and saw that he was unkempt and unwashed all day, without the slightest trace of magic. He felt that the legends about him must have been entirely fabricated by the world. Early one morning, when the Silly Monk was preparing to go out, the wandering monk happened to overhear the instructions given to the abbot. An evil thought suddenly arose in his mind: “This Silly Monk has been freeloaded food and drink in the city, and even stayed in Lady Wang’s mansion for a few years. He must have accumulated a lot of treasure and wants to hide it from the public eye in a small bamboo basket. Why don’t I…” So, taking advantage of the abbot’s absence, he sneaked into the room, dug out the bamboo basket, and was ecstatic in his heart: “Haha, now I’m going to be rich, and I won’t have to wander the four corners of the world anymore.” He hurriedly opened the bamboo basket, but the contents inside were completely beyond his expectations. It turned out that inside the small bamboo basket there was only a ragged bundle and a newly born puppy whose eyes had not even opened yet. Not seeing the slightest bit of gold or silver, the wandering monk was very puzzled. He quickly sealed the bamboo basket back up and returned it to its original place. The abbot did not notice anything either. As the sun set in the west and the sky grew late, the Silly Monk returned exhausted. After entering the temple, he started cursing loudly: “I told you to watch the basket carefully and never let anyone open it. Now look what happened! I can no longer stay here. Alas, this place no longer accommodates me!” After saying that, he ran out of the temple gates laughing wildly. The wandering monk was utterly ashamed and speechless, not knowing what to do. The abbot

seemed to understand something and hurriedly chased after him. The Silly Monk ran to the Xiuye Bridge, looked helplessly at the approaching abbot, let out a long laugh, and leaped into the rushing mountain stream. By this time, all the monks in the temple had rushed over. In the twilight, everyone saw the Silly Monk being washed by the rushing stream water; he was dead, yet he appeared as if he had passed away in a seated meditative pose. Strangely enough, his body was not caught on any rocks, yet it was not washed away. Moreover, he stood upright in the stream water, appearing exceptionally peaceful. Just like that, the body was washed by the water for three days. On the fourth day, the corpse disappeared to who knows where. When everyone went back to pack up his only possession—the bamboo basket—they opened it again to take a look, and the newborn puppy had vanished as well.

(Qing Dynasty - Xu Zhongyuan, Notes on Three Anomalies)

Wisdom Penetrates Divine Foreknowledge

Miraculous Healing Arts

Yang Pidai (Nourishing the Leather Bag)

In the outskirts of Wuzhou, Zhejiang, there was an old man whose behavior was eccentric. He was lazy and casual by nature, much like an unrestrained Daoist priest. He called himself “Yang Pidai” (Nourishing the Leather Bag). No one knew his real name or his hometown. He had lived in Wuzhou for many years, but he had never slept. Others found this very strange, but did not ask him about it. Only a Mr. Zhang from Dangtu, who frequently interacted with the old man, asked him: “Master, are you practicing the Heavenly Circuit Fire Circulation skill (Zhou Tian Huo Yun Gong)?” The old man did not answer, but merely nodded slightly.

At the end of the Chunxi era of the Song Dynasty, the Transport Commissioner of Zhejiang and Capital Prefect, Pan Jinggui, associated with the old man. The Pan family had planted a purple osmanthus tree. Its leaves and flowers were lush and flourishing, making it a delightful sight. By midsummer, when the world was a sheet of lush green, this purple osmanthus began to wither and dry up day by day. Seeing the flowers and leaves wither and fall, Pan Jinggui felt displeased. Fearing it might be an ominous sign, he spent his days sighing around the purple osmanthus tree. Seeing this situation, the old man comforted Pan Jinggui, saying: “Wait until the third watch of the sixth day of the sixth month. I will come and transplant this flower for you. If the flower can live again, you will be promoted.” Sure enough, after the old man transplanted it, the branches and leaves grew vigorously, and the flowers bloomed wildly, fresh, bright, and lustrous, exactly as they were at the beginning. Soon after, Pan Jinggui was promoted to Vice Minister of Works.

By nature, the old man detested other Daoist priests and was only close to a Mr. Guan from Tingzhou, living together with him. On the first day of the first lunar month in the third year of the Shaoxi era of the Song Dynasty, before dawn, Mr. Guan got up. Seeing that the old man’s chamber pot had not been washed for years and smelled terrible, he thought of taking the opportunity of the New Year to get rid of the old and welcome the new by washing it for the old man. The old man saw through Mr. Guan’s intention and hurriedly shouted: “You are looting my mountain stronghold! Put it down quickly!” This left Mr. Guan completely baffled. When it was time to eat, the old man took out the chamber pot, filled it with rice, freed his hands, and grabbed the rice to eat. Looking at the old man eating with great relish, Mr. Guan was even more dumbfounded.

Next to the Meihua Gate, there was a household running a restaurant. The owner of the house had always respected and trusted the old man. One day, ice and snow covered the ground, and it was very cold. The old man passed by the restaurant and went straight into the shop to ask for fire to warm himself. The shopkeeper immediately brought a bundle of firewood and grass. The old man lit the firewood and grass, took off his wet clothes to roast them, and when the roasting was done and his body had warmed up, the old man used the remaining grass to twist into a rope. As soon as the grass rope was twisted, the campfire went out. The old man tied up the unburned firewood with the grass rope, handed it to the shopkeeper, and said: “The matter has already been settled. You must absolutely not move this bundle of firewood.” The shopkeeper was baffled, but having always heard that the old man’s actions were extraordinary, he had no choice but to comply. A few days later, a fire suddenly broke out in the restaurant. The fire rapidly spread in all directions, but when it reached the walls, the fire suddenly went out. A disaster of fire for the restaurant was miraculously avoided. The next day, the old man stepped through the door and said with a smile to the shopkeeper: “The fire has already finished burning, it’s fine now.” Only then did the shopkeeper understand, and he thanked him endlessly.

The Garrison Guard Officer of this commandery, named Liu Ze, was also very respectful to the old man. One day, the old man suddenly took out a cloth garment and gave it to him, saying: “Use it to cover your buttocks.” He also did not explain

explanation, and simply left. Liu Ze looked at this ragged and filthy cloth robe, feeling nothing but disgust, yet not daring to throw it away, he hung it in front of the bathing room at his home. That very night, Liu Ze inadvertently offended Prefect Ye Shuyu. Ye Shuyu was enraged and ordered someone to give Liu Ze fifteen strokes of the cane. After the beating, Liu Ze endured the pain and walked out through the gate of the official residence, only to see the old man smiling at him and saying: “I told you to cover your buttocks, but you wouldn’t listen. Well, getting beaten serves you right.”

There were two wine merchants in the city, one surnamed Liu and one surnamed Han. The Liu family conducted business fairly and honestly; whereas the Han family, out of greed for profit, adulterated their wine with additives, giving it a sour taste. The old man took a long bamboo pole and leaned it against the Liu family’s wine shop, saying to the shopkeeper Liu as he did so: “To save you, to save you — if you move this bamboo pole, you will be beaten with iron rods.” The next day, a young ruffian, deeply distressed because he was being pursued for arrest by a clerk, armed himself with a blade and lay in wait, intending to kill the clerk. The ruffian saw the clerk go up into the Liu family’s wine shop and pursued him. The clerk, seeing the ruffian’s face full of murderous intent and the blade flashing in his hand, could only dodge back and forth, and the crowd was thrown into panic. The clerk was forced to the window edge and, seeing no way out, suddenly noticed a bamboo pole leaning beneath the window. He slid down the pole and escaped with his life. Only then did everyone breathe a sigh of relief. Shopkeeper Liu, seeing his wine shop undamaged and the clerk saved, felt grateful to the old man from the bottom of his heart. Some days later, the old man came to the Han family’s wine shop, stood there briefly, then took a ladle down from the counter and, in front of everyone, urinated into the ladle. He calmly walked out the door and drank every last drop of the urine in the ladle, leaving not a trace behind. By this time, the crowd of onlookers was packed so tightly that not a drop of water could have trickled through. The old man said to the crowd: “This urine tastes better than the wine from this establishment.” From then on, no one ever went to the Han family to buy wine again.

Outside the Jinhua Gate, there was a man surnamed Xu who ran a pharmacy. The shopkeeper was an honest and kindhearted man. The old man brought him an empty earthenware sugar jar and said: “Find some light, porous charcoal that burns easily, and heat it up once every five days.” From then on, the Xu family pharmacy gained a miraculous elixir that could cure all illnesses. A man from Jianning named Ye Sen, who had brought his family to flee disaster, drifted to Wuzhou utterly destitute and in dire straits. The old man, taking pity on him, produced a large coin and handed it to him, saying: “From now on, you will never again be short of money.” And he repeatedly exhorted him never to lose this large coin. Sure enough, before long Ye Sen fortuitously met another merchant, and the two went into partnership, buying and selling goods. Though the work was somewhat arduous, the income was quite substantial. Very quickly, Ye Sen had accumulated a thousand strings of cash. But after paying his taxes, he suddenly

discovered that the large coin was gone, and only then realized that he had inadvertently mixed it in with other coins and paid it to the officials. Ye Sen did not think much of it. Just at that time, his wife died suddenly of illness, and all the money Ye Sen had saved was completely spent on the funeral, leaving him impoverished once again.

When the old man spoke of other people’s fortunes and misfortunes, wealth and status, he knew everything as clearly as the back of his hand. The common people would also go to visit the old man from time to time, either to express their respect or to ask him for money. If they caught the old man in a good mood and received a gift from him, then everything they did that day would go exactly as they wished. If the old man was displeased, he would raise his staff and chase people away, treating even scholars and officials exactly the same.

In the spring of the first year of the Qingyuan era of the Song dynasty, the old man sat upright inside an empty earthenware jar and peacefully passed away.

Entering Transformation and Transcendence — Extraordinary Abilities

(Song dynasty — Hong Mai, Yijian Zhi)

Returning to Spring: Marvelous Arts

The Divine Physician Who Could Summon Wind and Rain

Xu Wenzhong was a native of Xuanzhou in Anhui. His father-in-law was a physician of considerable reputation. Seeing that Xu Wenzhong was intelligent, earnest, and eager to learn, his father-in-law transmitted all of his learning to him without reservation. Within a few years, Xu Wenzhong was not only able to treat patients as well as his father-in-law, but surpassed him in many respects. Compared to his father-in-law, he was especially skilled in acupuncture and moxibustion. Many difficult and complex conditions could be quickly and thoroughly cured simply by inserting a few needles.

Furthermore, what made his father-in-law regard him in an entirely new light was that he not only understood divination

and the arts of astrology and physiognomy, but had also mastered the ability to summon wind and call forth rain.

Xu Wenzhong ordinarily traveled about practicing medicine. He was utterly indifferent to money and had no interest whatsoever in official position. Initially, he was recommended for a minor clerkship in a certain county, but unable to endure the tedious official duties, he quietly departed. Later, someone recommended him for a clerical position in the Anlu Prefectural office. Having no choice, he went to take up the post, but within a few days he had grown weary of the cumbersome formalities of official life, and in the end he left without a word to practice medicine wherever he went. On one occasion, he traveled to Wu Commandery, where a member of a large wealthy household was bedridden with rheumatism, suffering terribly. Upon hearing the news that Xu Wenzhong was passing through, they invited him to provide treatment. Xu Wenzhong did not write a prescription; he simply inserted a few needles into the patient’s legs, and a miracle occurred — the patient sat up in bed and was immediately able to get up and walk. The patient’s family, seeing this, was so overjoyed that they did not know what to say.

Entering Transformation and Transcendence — Extraordinary Abilities

The matter quickly spread throughout Wu Commandery, and for a time, people seeking his medical treatment came in an endless stream. The officials of Wu Commandery, seeing that Xu Wenzhong’s medical skills were superb and that he was deeply respected by the people, invited him to serve as a commandery clerk. Xu Wenzhong, unable to decline, reluctantly accepted.

At that time, the Princess Consort of the Prince of Zhennan was bedridden with illness, unable even to sit up. None of the imperial physicians in the prince’s residence could cure her. The Censor of the Southern Terrace recommended Xu Wenzhong to the Prince of Zhennan, who immediately dispatched a rider on a fast horse to Wu Commandery to summon him. After Xu Wenzhong arrived, the Prince of Zhennan received him with courtesy, seated him in the side hall, described the princess consort’s condition to him, and then led him into the inner chamber to examine her. Seeing Xu Wenzhong take out only a few silver needles of varying lengths from a box, the Prince of Zhennan asked with considerable misgiving: “Can her illness be cured?” Xu Wenzhong replied calmly: “I have come precisely to perform acupuncture on the princess consort. If the illness cannot be cured, then why would I have come?” First, Xu Wenzhong tentatively asked the princess consort to raise her hands and feet. She attempted it and said she could not lift them. Xu Wenzhong then pressed on the princess consort’s Hegu and Quchi acupoints, and gradually inserted the silver needles. The princess consort felt no pain whatsoever. After a short while, as before, he again asked the princess consort to raise her hands and feet. She declined, saying she could not. Xu Wenzhong said to her: “The qi from the needles has already begun to circulate. Try lifting your hand.” The princess consort’s hand rose involuntarily. When he asked her to lift her foot, her foot also rose effortlessly. The Prince of Zhennan watched from the side, holding his breath. When he saw that the princess consort’s hands and feet could move, a satisfied smile appeared on his face. By the next day, the princess consort was already able to sit up. And so,

The Prince of Zhennan immediately hosted a grand banquet to reward Xu Wenzhong and bestowed upon him a great deal of money and goods. From then on, Xu Wenzhong’s fame shook Guangling, and people believed that Bian Que had returned to life.

One year, the Guangling region suffered a prolonged drought, and though the Prince of Zhennan invited magicians to pray for rain, it was to no avail. Seeing the drought grow increasingly severe, he became deeply troubled. One day, he invited Xu Wenzhong to his residence and confided his anxieties. After listening, Xu Wenzhong said to the Prince of Zhennan, “Do you wish for rain?” The Prince of Zhennan replied earnestly, “Yes.” With an air of mystery, Xu Wenzhong said, “Please allow me to use magic to summon rain for you. I do not know whether you would prefer thunder first and rain afterward, or rain first and thunder afterward?” The Prince of Zhennan thought Xu Wenzhong was joking with him, so he replied teasingly, “Rain first and thunder afterward—only then can it be verified as magic!” Xu Wenzhong said “Very well,” stepped out of the room, raised his sleeve toward the northwest, and waved it. In an instant, dark clouds rapidly filled the sky, and it immediately grew dim, after which the rain poured down in torrents. After the rain stopped, the sky had already cleared, yet the rumble of thunder could still be heard. Seeing that Xu Wenzhong could truly summon the wind and rain, the Prince of Zhennan no longer dared to treat him as an ordinary man.

Xu Wenzhong stayed in Guangling for over a month, and many people there were saved by him. Later, he moved from Lan Commandery to Wulin Mountain. Before long, the governor of Wu Commandery fell ill and was confined to bed. The doctors there recommended Xu Wenzhong. As soon as he arrived, within two days the governor’s illness was cured. While practicing medicine, Xu Wenzhong always told people, “I have taken on many disciples, yet their medical skills are not as effective as mine. This is because they focus only on profit and neglect righteousness. Relying on these abilities, I have traveled and practiced medicine for over forty years. Those I have treated are too numerous to count, yet I have never once asked them for repayment. I only know how to do the utmost I can to practice my art.”

(Wang Xian of the Yuan dynasty, Baishi Jizhuan)

A Blind Man’s Sight Restored

Generally, as people age, their eyes grow dim and they cannot see clearly. Yet in the Ming dynasty, there was a certain Mr. Xu who, in his old age, was able to write tiny, fly-head-sized regular script by the dim light of an oil lamp. Whenever he did so, Mr. Xu would secretly marvel that his eyesight was better than when he had been young. For the greater part of his life, Mr. Xu never forgot the guest whose name he did not know, the one who had enabled him to see the light of day again. As time passed, Mr. Xu grew ever more convinced that the guest was no ordinary person. Later, he even set up a memorial tablet for the guest in his own home, and every

day he would offer prayers before the tablet.

Mr. Xu was a native of Fujian. From childhood he was well versed in the classics and was highly regarded by his teachers. Upon reaching the age of twenty, he devoted himself to deep study of the Book of Changes. Young as he was, the writings he produced possessed an extraordinary spirit and bore the character of the ancients, and so they were widely praised. For a time, Mr. Xu became a registered disciple of renown in the county. Not only was Mr. Xu outstanding in talent, but he was also striking in appearance. After marrying a young lady of a prominent family, he had a son and a daughter, and his household was happy and harmonious. In officialdom, too, Mr. Xu rose swiftly and was widely supported. However, the sky harbors unpredictable winds and clouds, and people’s fortunes may change in an instant. In middle age, Mr. Xu inexplicably developed an eye ailment. Although he consulted many famous doctors and took countless efficacious medicines, the eye disease not only failed to improve but grew progressively worse. Having no recourse, Mr. Xu resigned from office and returned home. He sold off his property in search of renowned doctors, but in the end there was no power to reverse his fate, and by the bingxu year, Mr. Xu was completely blind. By this time his wealth had been exhausted, and he no longer had the money to treat his eye ailment.

Several years passed in a flash. One day in early spring of the gengyin year, the scent of sandalwood suddenly drifted into Mr. Xu’s bedchamber. This fragrance lasted from morning until evening, lingering for a long time without dissipating. His family was astonished and felt it must be an auspicious omen, though they could not say precisely what it foretold.

That summer, a guest arrived at a local inn. The man was tall and thin. He wore a black headscarf and a cloth robe, and carried a sack containing a pair of worn leather shoes. The inn’s attendant found his appearance strange and grew suspicious. He questioned the man about where he had come from, and the two fell into an argument. The guest said he was a man of Wu and could write prescriptions to cure all kinds of illnesses. As for writing prescriptions for eye ailments, even if both eyes were completely blind, they could be restored to sight. A relative of Mr. Xu happened to be nearby. Hearing these words, he rode back on horseback to deliver the news, and the Xu family soon invited the guest to their home.

The guest examined Mr. Xu’s eyes and said, “Your eyes can certainly be cured.” Mr. Xu said with emotion, “My eyes have been ruined for five years. I have tried every kind of medical prescription and nearly bankrupted my family, yet there has been not the slightest effect. Your arrival has once again given me hope in my heart. Can you restore to me a sound pair of eyes and recover my sight? If

…if there is no effect, then there is no need for treatment. I am poor and have no money to give you for medical fees. I can only thank you.” Upon hearing Xu’s account, the guest smiled and promised, “I guarantee I will cure your eyes, and I will not charge you any money — is that acceptable?” Xu was so grateful that he immediately bowed down in thanks.

The guest did not prescribe according to ancient texts, though he sometimes used rare and precious medicinal ingredients. Xu’s family members sold their hairpins and earrings to scrape together enough money to buy the medicine. They pounded and prepared it day and night until the medicine was finally made. Its taste was extremely bitter and astringent, and Xu managed to force it down.

The guest stayed at an inn and came to visit Xu once every day. The Xu family prepared wine and meat for him at every meal, but he declined and simply ate a bowl of plain rice. Ordinarily, the guest’s outer garments were ragged, yet on secretly glancing at his inner garments, they were all made of fine silk. Even in the height of the summer heat, his shirts bore no sweat stains. The members of Xu’s household all considered him to be no ordinary person, so they made a cloth robe and shoes and presented them to him. The guest accepted them gladly but did not put them on.

After taking the medicine, Xu felt his eyeballs gradually relax over a period of time, as though his eye sockets were empty, as if there were nothing inside. On the twenty-seventh day, his left eye suddenly opened, and his right eye gradually opened as well. He could see the objects around him as though through a thin layer of mist. Presently, Xu caught sight of his wife. Just as he was both startled and overjoyed, the guest had already arrived at the door. Seeing him, the guest smiled and said, “I knew all along that your eyes would recover today.” Xu led his wife and children in kneeling before the guest. The guest said, “Today you ought to prepare some food to reward me, but there is no need to make a special feast of fish and meat — just some simple noodles will do.” However, the Xu family could not even produce any noodles. A short while later, someone suddenly delivered some food to the Xu household, and these provisions happened to be exactly what the guest had asked for. On this day, the guest’s appetite was remarkably good — he probably ate enough for five people, and drank several sheng of wine, yet showed no sign of intoxication. During the meal, the guest took out a piece each of copper and tin, then produced a verdant green medicinal powder from his sleeve. He kneaded them together into something resembling fat, then tapped it lightly on the table, and it instantly turned into silver. The guest said to Xu, “If you take copper, iron, or tin vessels, they can be transformed into gold. If you are willing to leave home and accompany me on my travels, I will certainly teach you this method.” Xu declined, saying, “I have a few acres of poor farmland, enough to get by.

A blind man hopes only for light; to be able to see the light of day again is already more than satisfying. I do not wish to acquire any secret arts, nor do I wish to travel abroad.” The guest smiled and nodded, then handed him a book filled entirely with prescriptions for treating eye diseases. Xu accepted it with a bow. The guest said, “I am going to travel upon the sea, and I will visit you again in the future.” With that, he departed. But from that time on, Xu never saw him again.

To repay the kindness of that guest, Xu devoted himself to studying the prescriptions the guest had left behind and began attempting to treat others’ illnesses. From his immediate neighbors to people within a radius of several li, Xu spared no effort in relieving people of their ailments. When treating patients, he always prescribed according to the severity of the condition, and in every case the results were immediately effective. In the end, he cured over a thousand people of various illnesses and was deeply respected. In his old age, Xu’s eyes not only did not grow dim but were in fact clearer than in his youth. He knew in his heart

that this was all thanks to the guest’s miraculous medical skill!

(From Zhu Guozhen of the Ming Dynasty, Yongchuang Xiaopin)

A Withered Tree Returns to Life

During the Xinmao year of the Wanli reign of the Ming Dynasty, a wandering Daoist priest suddenly arrived in Cao County. His clothes were worn and ragged, his hair-bun disheveled, the horsehair whisk in his hand was tattered and falling apart, and his face was covered in grime. The whole of him appeared filthy and unkempt — perhaps on account of the exhaustion of travel. No one knew where he was from or where he had taken his monastic vows. He wandered through the world, behaving erratically and madly, and often drank himself into a stupor, lying sprawled across the streets. When people saw him like this, they all assumed the Daoist priest was a lunatic, and so none were willing to go near him.

One day, the Daoist priest came stumbling in his mad way to Dingqing Temple on the outskirts of the county seat. The monks in the temple saw that he was raving deliriously and talking nonsense, so they could not be bothered to pay him any attention. The Daoist priest stumbled into the temple grounds and suddenly caught sight of a large tree stump, whereupon he stopped to examine it closely. It turned out that this had been a great parasol tree that had grown in the temple for over five hundred years, its branches and leaves once lush and abundant. Now, however, it had withered and died from a pest-borne disease. The monks, seeing that the massive dried tree with its withered appearance greatly detracted from the tidiness of the temple grounds and was an eyesore, had felled it, leaving only this stump behind. The Daoist priest lightly brushed the stump with his whisk, bowed reverently before it for a long while, and was heard to sigh: “You originally had immortal roots, yet were burdened by these ordinary mortals. What a pity! What a pity!” Then he leapt up, sat cross-legged upon the stump, held his whisk in one hand waving it toward the sky, and placed the other hand palm-upright before his chest. He half-closed his eyes and moved his lips as though performing an incantation. After a moment he called out in a loud voice: “Divine Parasol Tree, today I command you to break through the dust and regain new life,

and see the light of day once more!” He then sprayed water upon the stump. When the monks of the temple saw him doing this, they assumed his madness had flared up again and all pretended not to see him as they walked away. But the Daoist priest continued reciting his incantations, performing his “ritual.”

By midnight, the Daoist was still sitting cross-legged on the stump. Suddenly, dark clouds rolled across the sky, obscuring the stars and moon. Then a great gale arose, lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and torrential rain poured down. On that night of wind, rain, lightning, and thunder, the people of Cao County could all hear the Daoist’s deep, resonant, and faintly sorrowful-indignant singing: “The tree has roots yet the tree has no branches; people have eyes yet their eyes have no sight. I come and the dead tree lives; I go and people do not recognize me. That people do not recognize me is truly a pity — I roam the eight extremes of heaven above and earth below. I turn and mount the crane among the clouds, soaring in song past the shores of Penglai.” This song seemed to come from the heavens above.

At dawn, the people rose and went to Dingqing Temple, only to find nothing had changed within — the temple was still the temple, and the great tree had not been revived. They all walked away disappointed. After three days, tender green shoots emerged from the withered tree. After another month, the tree was already lush with branches and leaves, and its trunk had grown to five or six feet thick, becoming a towering tree of vibrant green. Only then did the people recall the Daoist priest, but he never returned. The people honored this Daoist priest as the “Immortal Parasol Man.” Later, Qian Dadao, the magistrate of Cao County, specially commissioned someone to carve a stele and write a biography for the Daoist. Many literati and scholar-officials who passed through on their travels also left behind numerous inscriptions and poems.

(From Zhu Guozhen of the Ming Dynasty, Yongchuang Xiaopin)

The Doctor Who Shook the Tiger Bell

One day, a doctor came to Pinghu, traveling through the countryside to practice medicine. He held in his hand an iron tiger bell, shaped like a shuttle, and as he walked, he shook it so that it clanged and rang. Among doctors who shake the tiger bell, those with superb medical skills typically held the bell above their head; the lower their skill, the lower they held it. When people saw that this doctor held his tiger bell above his head, they knew his medical skills were exceptional, and they vied with one another to have him treat their illnesses.

There was a child who, after falling into a lake and being rescued, fell ill. His food intake gradually diminished, and his face grew thin and

sallow. His parents had sought medical treatment from many sources, but to no avail. That day, seeing that a doctor had come to practice medicine in their area, they asked him to examine their child. After carefully inquiring about the condition, the doctor concluded that there was a living creature in the child’s stomach. The child’s parents were greatly bewildered, not knowing where this living creature could have come from. The doctor did not write a prescription. Instead, he took out a fishhook, attached medicinal bait to it, and had the child open his mouth and swallow it. After a while, the child suddenly felt something moving in his stomach. At that point, the doctor slowly pulled on the thread, as though fishing. The hook was finally pulled out, and attached to it was a live small red crab. Seeing that the living creature had been removed, the doctor smiled and said, “The illness has been cured!” The child’s parents were overjoyed and rewarded the doctor generously. From then on, the child’s appetite indeed surged, and he grew stronger and stronger.

There was also a man who suddenly developed a tumor on his back. In less than a year, it had grown as large as a sack capable of holding five dou of grain. This man’s family had originally been quite wealthy, but in his efforts to seek medical treatment far and wide, he sold off all the family’s property. Yet the tumor was still not eradicated. Later, his wife took the children and left him. He had no choice but to walk the streets, hunchbacked, begging for a living — his circumstances were truly pitiful.

By chance, he encountered a doctor who shook a tiger bell on the street. After examining his condition, the doctor told him, “If you can collect two thousand copper coins to give me for preparing medicine, I can cure your illness.” When the people on the street learned of this, they all wanted to see how the doctor would treat him, so they donated money one after another. Within a few days, enough had been collected. After taking the money, the doctor promised to return in three days. On the third day, the doctor indeed returned. He found an open space and dug two pits, each about one chi wide and two chi deep. The onlookers saw that he had dug a pit but did not know what purpose it would serve, yet they did not find it convenient to ask. The doctor then had the patient sit bare-backed and barefoot at the edge of the pit, and used a long needle to pierce directly into the sole of his foot. The needle went deep into the flesh, at least several cun deep. Then, he had the patient stand leaning against the edge of the pit, and he himself rubbed the patient’s back with his hands. The onlookers noticed that after the doctor had been rubbing for only a short while, the tumor on the patient’s back gradually shrank. The doctor told the patient to look down into the large pit — it was filled entirely with dark red pus and blood. The doctor asked the patient whether he felt any pain, and the patient said he felt not

the slightest sensation of pain. When the onlookers saw that this doctor’s medical skills were so extraordinary, they all clicked their tongues in admiration. The doctor then took out a red medicinal powder, mixed it with water, and applied it to the shriveled skin on the patient’s back, arranging to see him again in three days. By the third day, the patient’s back was already as flat as that of an ordinary person. The doctor used scissors to cut away the withered skin from the patient’s back, and the patient felt as though a great burden had been lifted. The illness that had tormented the patient for so long was finally eradicated within a few days.

(Qing dynasty — Zhang Peiren, Miaoxiang Shi [Hua])

Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities

Wondrous Arts of Restoring Life

The Old Immortal

In Zhang Xianzhong’s army, there was a man people called the Old Immortal, and everyone regarded him as a divine being. In his youth, he had once gone up into the mountains to seek the Way, and he encountered an extraordinary person. This extraordinary person gave him a medical text, which contained nothing but secret prescriptions for healing severed limbs, broken bones, and bringing the dead back to life. From then on, he relied on these secret prescriptions to practice medicine far and wide and make a living. When he was first captured by Zhang Xianzhong’s soldiers, he was nearly put to death. After they captured prisoners, they generally killed them immediately, unless the prisoner possessed some special skill that could spare them from death.

After being captured, the Old Immortal claimed that he could sculpt statues with clay and was pardoned. Thereafter, the army called him the Clay Sculptor. One day, the Clay Sculptor washed a large pot clean and boiled water in it. After the water had boiled several times, he stirred it left and right a few times with a wooden stick. Suddenly, the boiling water immediately turned into a thick paste. The soldiers were extremely astonished and ran around telling each other. After Zhang Xianzhong heard this news, he said that he was a sorcerer and wanted to kill him again. The Clay Sculptor defended himself, saying: “Please listen to me explain the situation before you kill me. Great King, do you not wish to accomplish a great undertaking? Why kill a person with outstanding abilities?” Zhang Xianzhong felt surprised and asked him what abilities he had. The Clay Sculptor said unhurriedly: “I have a miraculous skill and can cure people’s illnesses and injuries. This medicinal plaster was taught to me by an accomplished master. Those who suffer severe injuries from being hacked or struck by swords, axes, or clubs, I can immediately make them” Entering Transformation and Transcendence “recover.” Zhang Xianzhong immediately beat and injured a man with a club to test him, and it indeed took effect immediately. Zhang Xianzhong was violent by nature and frequently beat people. Every day, many people were often beaten until their flesh and blood were mangled and they were barely breathing. The Clay Sculptor would apply the medicinal paste, and there were none who did not recover. Some people had severed limbs;

after his treatment, they could immediately walk leaning on a cane. From then on, the Old Immortal’s fame in the army grew greater and greater. Many soldiers rushed to find him and brought him things to eat. Extraordinary Abilities Before long, his clothing, food, and money also gradually increased. During one campaign, a favored general under Zhang Xianzhong was hit by a cannonball while attacking a city, blowing off his chin, and his life was in imminent danger. Zhang Xianzhong sent someone to invite the Clay Sculptor. The Clay Sculptor said it would be easy to handle. He immediately cut off another person’s chin, attached it to this general, and applied a kind of medicinal paste. As a result, he recovered in just one day. The general ate and drank as freely as before, completely unaffected. At that time, there was an army supervisor named Sun Kewang who got drunk at night and mistakenly killed a concubine he deeply favored. After the troops had advanced another thirty li, he sobered up, realized he had killed his wife, and was endlessly remorseful. On the road, he happened to meet the Clay Sculptor. The Clay Sculptor smiled and asked him: “Did the Army Supervisor not enjoy a satisfying drunkenness last night? Why do you look unhappy?” Sun Kewang then told him the whole story. The Clay Sculptor, upon hearing this, said: “Do you really want this woman, Army Supervisor? I will turn my horse around and go find her.” Sun Kewang sighed and said: “Alas! When the troops pulled out, the corpse was already nowhere to be found. It must have been eaten by dogs. Where can I go to find her?” The Clay Sculptor said: “Let me go find her, Army Supervisor.

What pig or dog would dare eat a noble person?” Sun Kewang said suspiciously upon hearing this: “You are deceiving me; you want to escape! I must send soldiers to follow you.” At this moment, the Clay Sculptor pointed to a felt bag being carried by soldiers by the side of the road and said: “There is no need to go find her; this is her right here!” Sun Kewang said irritably: “These are already rotten bones; what are you carrying them here for?” The Clay Sculptor smiled and said to the Army Supervisor: “Why don’t you open it and take a look?” Sun Kewang dismounted, untied the felt bag, and saw his favored concubine’s bright large eyes darting with life, her pale face sprinkled with teardrops. Her soul had already returned to her body, and Sun Kewang shouted out in joy. When this incident spread throughout the army, all the officers and soldiers were amazed. Zhang Xianzhong found out and said: “He is an immortal! He should be granted a title.” At this time, the troops were camping in a large swamp. Zhang Xianzhong ordered hundreds of thousands of small tables to be stacked to build an altar for worshiping immortals. He invited the Clay Sculptor to stand on the altar, and then had the three armies kneel and bow below the stage, all shouting together like a mountain echo, Miraculous Healing Arts “Old Immortal!”, shaking heaven and earth. From then on, people no longer called him the Clay Sculptor, but addressed him as “Old Immortal.” The Old Immortal, from then on, did not easily practice his medical arts either. A great general in the army was defeated in battle, his foot was injured, his tibia was broken, and only about an inch of skin remained unbroken. He begged the Old Immortal to treat him, but the Old Immortal refused on the grounds that it was difficult to cure. The man then cried loudly and sent him large amounts of money and silk, but the Old Immortal would not accept them. He said: “These are all external possessions; I do not need them. However, I cannot bear to leave the General’s injury untreated. I have no son; will you be able to provide for me in the future?” This general swore to heaven, willing to provide for him as a father for the rest of his life. The Old Immortal slowly untied a small bag worn on his body, took out a small saw from it, sawed off his foot, cutting off about an inch from the top and the bottom respectively. Then he took another person’s lower leg bone, attached it according to the length sawed off, and applied medicine. In a few days, the General’s leg was healed. Later, whoever in the army sought medicine from him did not dare to randomly send him anything, but instead vied to become his adopted son. Zhang Xianzhong had a favored maidservant named Old Foot. She was intelligent and beautiful, could write and paint, but only her feet were relatively large, which was how she got the nickname “Old Foot”. Zhang Xianzhong trusted her very much and had her manage the documents and archives. One day, when Zhang Xianzhong was resting, a 15

person sank into deep thought. Old Foot saw him sitting there all alone, and went over to serve him without permission. Zhang Xianzhong did not know it was Old Foot, suspected that someone else was plotting treason, drew his saber, and hacked backhanded, hitting her right in the waist. As a result, her bones were broken and her abdomen was split open, her intestines spilled out, and she died. After Zhang Xianzhong discovered that he had mistakenly killed Old Foot, he was deeply grieved and hurriedly went to invite the Old Immortal. The Old Immortal said: “She is already dead and cannot be revived.” Zhang Xianzhong angrily said: “Wasn’t the Army Supervisor’s concubine also dead? If you cannot revive her, I will kill you to be buried with her.” The Old Immortal pondered for a long while and finally said: “This will require a certain amount of time.” Zhang Xianzhong was anxious to have her brought back to life. He limited him to three days, but the Old Immortal requested a period of 21 days. He mixed wine and medicine and poured it down Old Foot’s throat. On the first seven days, a rattling sound could be heard in Old Foot’s throat. The Old Immortal congratulated Zhang Xianzhong, saying: Entering Transformation and Transcendence — Extraordinary Abilities “She can be revived; with another seven days she will recover.” He then soaked and washed the intestines that had spilled out of Old Foot, placed them back into her abdominal cavity, sewed them up with a needle, applied medicine, clamped them with wooden boards, and tied them securely with ropes. After a few days, Old Foot’s body truly recovered. Later, Zhang Xianzhong died, the troops were defeated, and they retreated from Sichuan to Yunnan. Those who had always received the Old Immortal’s medical care protected him as they came to Yunnan. He used a massive amount of wealth to build his living quarters, piling up stones to form mountains and cultivating flowers and trees. Every day he would receive guests and sing, living a leisurely and carefree life until the end of his natural life. (Qing Dynasty · Fang Hengxian, Yu Chu Xin Zhi)

Miraculous Arts of Healing

Daoist Xueyi

One day, a band of bandits raided a village. Suddenly the village was filled with the crowing of chickens and the barking of dogs; adults and children alike hid in fear. When the bandits saw that no one was putting up resistance, they broke down doors and entered houses, becoming ever more brazen and destructive. In this village there was a prominent wealthy household, with ample resources and a large family. The master was known for his generosity and charitable deeds, and enjoyed a fine reputation in the region. Upon hearing that the bandits had entered the village, the head of the household immediately gathered the sturdy young men to defend the courtyard. The bandits, already flush with plunder from their raiding, caught sight of this grand household and were hardly about to let it go. With a clamor of shouts and crashing, the gate was smashed open, and the

bandits surged in. Both sides raised their weapons and fought fiercely. In the chaos, one bandit took aim at the householder’s neck—his blade rose and fell—and in an instant the householder’s head was severed from his body.

After the bandits had finished their plundering and dispersed, the male and female relatives saw the ghastly sight of the householder’s head and body separated. They all cried out to heaven, weeping and wailing in anguish, and someone began making arrangements for the funeral. The householder had a son who had been treasured since childhood as the apple of the family’s eye. He was well-read and courteous, and was deeply filial toward his father. Seeing that his father had been killed by bandits in the prime of his life, his heart was filled with grief. The thought of his father being placed in a coffin for burial was more than he could bear. Suddenly he remembered that there was a Daoist by the name of Xueyi whose medical skills were unparalleled and extraordinary. He immediately instructed a family member to go and fetch him. The family member was quite surprised by the young master’s words and thought he must be delirious from the shock he had just experienced. He said to him loudly: “Young master, stop these wild thoughts. My father’s body and head have already been separated. Even if Daoist Xueyi had a pill that could bring back the dead, how could he possibly join a severed head and body back together?” However, the young master insisted: “Daoist Xueyi is no ordinary person! Go fetch him at once—do not delay!” Under the young master’s resolute demand, the family member had no choice but to go and summon Daoist Xueyi.

Daoist Xueyi’s given name was Yaomin. In his earlier years, he had been a scholar at the imperial academy in Luoyang. Yaomin came from a literary family; through constant exposure from childhood, he developed a prodigious memory and a love of reading poetry and the classics. By young adulthood, his quick wit and ability to compose verses on the spot had earned him widespread renown. After the fall of the Ming dynasty, the unpredictability of worldly affairs suddenly caused him to lose interest in scholarly pursuit and advancement. One time, he obtained a secret prescription for treating poisonous sores and malignant diseases from a highly accomplished master. He then left the secular world and became a doctor, roaming the land and practicing medicine wherever he went. If someone had a poisonous sore that would not heal after long treatment, and eventually found their way to Daoist Xueyi, he would casually apply a bit of his own specially compounded ointment to the sore, and within days the sore would be completely eradicated. If someone had broken a leg bone or an arm and sought his treatment, not one failed to recover fully and completely. What was more astonishing still, he could cut open a patient’s abdomen to cleanse their intestines, and he could even open a person’s skull to remove poisoned marrow. Over time, all who knew him praised his medical art as being as wondrously divine as that of Hua Tuo.

Before long, Daoist Xueyi was brought to the wealthy household. He calmly examined the householder for a moment, then placed his hand on the householder’s chest to feel it, and looked up, saying: “The head

is severed, but the body still retains warmth. This residual warmth is the energy of life! With the energy of life, it can be treated.” Upon hearing Daoist Xueyi’s words, the family members were only half-convinced. They did not believe that this Daoist Xueyi could truly bring a dead man back to life. Therefore, they remained silent, merely opening their eyes wide and watching from the side. The young master, however, had absolute faith in Daoist Xueyi’s medical skills.

Daoist Xueyi gently fitted the dead man’s head and neck together, then swiftly stitched them together using silver needles. After stitching, he took out a medicinal powder he carried with him and applied it evenly around the wound, then gently warmed the area over charcoal fire. After a short while, Daoist Xueyi brewed a bowl of ginseng soup, mixed in other medicinal agents, and then, with the help of the family members, pried open the dead man’s mouth and slowly poured the soup in, bit by bit. Minutes and seconds passed, but the dead man showed not the slightest sign of reviving. The dead man’s family could not help but cast doubtful looks at Daoist Xueyi, yet the Daoist still appeared as composed and calm as ever. After another while, a miracle occurred. The dead man’s family members were astonished and overjoyed to discover that the already-deceased householder finally had a faint, barely perceptible breath through his nose. Seeing this, Daoist Xueyi immediately slowly poured some warm wine into the householder’s mouth. A moment later, the householder’s nasal breathing grew from weak to strong, and before long, his breathing gradually returned to normal.

Under Daoist Xueyi’s care, after just one night, the householder regained consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes, not understanding why all his family members were gazing at him with joy and astonishment, much less understanding why his neck ached so. When his son told him that he had died and come back to life, the householder himself was astounded. He could hardly believe that everything his son said was true. After another day and night had passed, the householder could move his hands and feet freely. Seven days later, his knife wound had healed, and half a month later, his body had fully recovered.

The householder’s return from the dead finally convinced the family of Daoist Xueyi’s extraordinary medical skill. To express gratitude for the Daoist’s life-saving grace, the householder was willing to offer half of his wealth as a reward, but Daoist Xueyi flatly refused. Thereafter, people heard that Daoist Xueyi had gone to Mount Zhongnan to cultivate the Dao. He had no sons, and therefore his medical arts were not

passed down.

Later generations, upon hearing of these matters, would say with regret: “People all consider Hua Tuo to have been a divine physician, capable of opening skulls and cutting into limbs, but no one has ever heard of his being able to revive a person who had been beheaded. Yet Daoist Xueyi was able to accomplish this. Is this not far superior even to Hua Tuo? How can anyone say that after Hua Tuo there have been no extraordinary figures?”

(Qing Dynasty — Chen Ding, New Tales of Yuchu)

Entering Transformation and Transcendence — Extraordinary Abilities

Qigong and Yoga

People believe that only celestial immortals can ride the wind and the void, flying freely to and fro. If a mortal in the earthly realm could fly through the sky like an immortal, that would indeed be a marvelous tale. The person discussed below truly possessed the wondrous ability to fly; therefore, people did not know whether he was actually a human or an immortal.

There was a hermit named Zhu Shaoqing. In the past, he mingled in official circles, wholeheartedly pursuing fame and fortune. Later, seeing through the mortal world, he resigned from his official post and retired, lodging in the Miaoyuan Daoist Temple in Dexing County, Jiangxi Province. Zhu Shaoqing had a

servant who had followed his master for over ten years. This servant was simple, loyal, and hardworking without complaint, unparalleled by anyone, and he greatly won Zhu Shaoqing’s favor.

Although he also relied on his master for a living, this servant was sometimes unexpectedly magnanimous and generous. Once, the Miaoyuan Daoist Temple was going to hold a grand ceremony to have an audience with the Perfected One. The servant saw a Daoist priest named Huang whose clothes were dirty and torn. He smiled and said to him: “With such torn clothes, how can you have an audience with the Perfected One? Why not change into a clean set?” Seeing this servant asking him, Daoist Huang blushed and said that he was poor and had no money. Upon hearing this, the servant said to the Daoist: “Estimate how much money you need and tell me; I can have it made for you.” Daoist Huang thought this was just a joking remark and did not take it seriously, so he casually agreed, saying, “That would be

Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities

great, I would have to thank you!” However, the servant said earnestly, “I just need to save up my monthly wages, and I can have it made for you. I mean what I say.” Within a few months, the servant indeed brought the Daoist exquisite and beautiful crane cloaks, Daoist robes, as well as a short jacket and trousers, one set of each. Seeing so many things given to him, the Daoist was so grateful that he was speechless.

This servant also had another peculiar ability, which was the ability to fly to and fro. Most people knew little about this matter; only Zhu Shaoqing’s youngest son had the good fortune to witness with his own eyes the scene of him flying up into the sky. One day, the servant put on a new headscarf, wore a white cloth shirt and brown shoes, and looked completely different from his usual self. Seeing no one else around, with only Zhu Shaoqing’s youngest son playing in the courtyard, the servant smilingly said to the child: “Hey, young master, let me show you a magic trick.” With that, he went to the middle of the courtyard, gently jumped into the air, and gradually his feet left the ground. He went higher and higher until he finally went straight up into the clouds and disappeared from sight. After a moment, when Zhu Shaoqing’s son returned to the room, he was surprised to see this servant tidying up things inside the room.

Before long, the servant resolved to bid farewell to his master. When the master asked him where he was going, he did not give a clear answer. Having no choice, the master had to give him some money and let him leave. After another year or two, someone rumored that this servant had died, but no one knew where he died or how he died.

Zhang Zhongding was from the same hometown county as this servant and normally knew him. After Zhang Zhongding was dispatched to garrison Nanjing, he received an invitation to attend a Daoist fasting assembly at Mount Sanmao…

requesting his presence. One day, as he was enjoying the cool air in his courtyard, he suddenly saw this servant, who was rumored to have died, appear in his courtyard. Zhang Zhongding asked in astonishment, “No one announced you—how did you get in?” The servant merely smiled and did not answer. Zhang Zhongding then asked, “What have you come here for?” Only then did the servant reply, “To attend the Great Daoist Assembly at Mount Sanmao together with you.” Zhang Zhongding immediately ordered wine to be brought from the kitchen to entertain him. The servant took the wine, finished drinking it, and then prepared to take his leave. As he departed, he did not leave through the courtyard gate; instead, he rose straight up into the sky from where he stood, flying off to who knows where. Zhang Zhongding was utterly astonished to witness this scene with his own eyes, and everyone in the household, from top to bottom, believed he had encountered an immortal.

In the book Zibuyu by Yuan Mei of the Qing dynasty, there are also accounts of two children who could fly. One was named Feng Yangwu. When he was born, his body was very small and his weight extremely light, like a little kitten—when weighed on a scale, he was less than two catties. Everyone in the family thought this child would be

Qigong and Yoga

difficult to raise to adulthood. Yet incredibly, after the child grew to two or three years of age and learned to walk, he was actually able to fly on his own. One day he suddenly leapt from the ground and flew onto the bed, and from then on there was no stopping him. Later, he was often able to soar through the air for dozens of paces, flying from inside the house out into the courtyard. Consequently, the people of his household had to keep him under strict supervision, fearing he might cause some kind of trouble. After Feng Yangwu reached the age of ten, his body gradually became robust and stalwart. He was quick-witted and fond of reading. He later passed the imperial examination to become a jinshi, and before long was appointed as an imperial censor. There was also one named Li Yehou who, in his childhood, could also fly. When he got mischievous, he would fly east one moment and west the next, and his mother could not catch hold of him. To prevent him from flying, his mother would constantly keep him well-fed, as this seemed to make it harder for him to take flight.

(Qing dynasty — Yuan Mei, Zibuyu)

Iron Shirt

In the book Yongzhuang Xiaopin written by Zhu Guozhen of the Ming dynasty, there is a record of a strange monk. This monk was tall in stature, with a square face and large ears—his appearance was quite striking. No one knew what his name was, nor did anyone know which temple he practiced at. Every day he would always mutter to himself alone, yet no one could make out clearly what he was actually saying. Over time, people felt he was somewhat slow-witted and dull, so they called him the “Dumb Monk.”

Whenever the Dumb Monk appeared in towns and villages, he would always attract

groups of mischievous children who would surround and follow him. Some children would sit on his shoulders, patting his bald head with their hands, and even playfully striking him with their little fists, yet he never lost his temper. He had one peculiar habit: in winter, he would go to bathe in the large river at the edge of town every single day, never interrupting this practice even on days when snow was falling thickly and the river water had frozen over. Each bathing session always lasted a very long time—one could see him submerge himself entirely in the water one moment, lie on the surface the next, and then swim rapidly through the water. When he emerged from the river, his entire body would be steaming, like clouds and mist. What was strange was that, despite being completely naked, he did not seem to feel the slightest bit of cold. And as for the onlookers, he always acted as though they were not there, with no expression whatsoever on his face.

Qigong and Yoga

In his daily life, the Dumb Monk never caused trouble or provoked disputes, nor did he bear any ill will toward anyone. However, the moment he passed by the gates of wealthy households, he would launch into furious loud tirades of abuse. At first, people paid him no attention, but after he had been cursing for a long time, they could no longer endure the insult and would send men to beat him. The Dumb Monk did not resist at all; instead, he calmly sat down on the ground and let others strike him as they pleased. But after beating him for a long while, those who struck him were astonished to find that his skin and flesh bore not the slightest injury, and his face showed not a trace of pain. They had no choice but to let him go. Yet once the beaters had left, he would begin cursing again. This cycle repeated itself over and over, and in the end there was truly nothing to be done, so the wealthy family had him locked up in a room without giving him a single bite of food. After about half a month had passed in this manner, people secretly went to check on him and saw that he was alone in the room circulating his qi—his body had not been weakened by hunger at all. Some people felt great sympathy for him and occasionally sneaked him some food or gave him water to drink. After another ten days or so, the wealthy family suddenly felt profound remorse and immediately invited him out of the room, apologized to him, and promised to build a temple for him. Yet the Dumb Monk’s face remained ice-cold, without any expression. Not long after this, the Dumb Monk disappeared. It was said that when he left, he specially inscribed two poems on the wall, but very few people could remember what the poems were about.

In the book Jianhu Ji written by Chu Jiaxuan of the Qing dynasty, there is a record of a man named Yue Zuoren who, just like the Dumb Monk, was also impervious to beatings with sticks and clubs.

An official in Shouzhou named Tang Qingqi employed a man named Yue Zuoren to

…working. This man worked meticulously and with full concentration, burying himself in hard labor from dawn till dusk, rarely considering how much wages his master would give him. This monthly hired hand was not afraid of the cold; he did not go to live in the small room prepared for him, but often spent the night in the courtyard. In winter, when heavy snow fell outside, the hired hand still lay down and slept in the snow. The master could not bear to see this and forcefully called him up, finding that his face showed the slightest expression of cold. Tang Qingqi was very astonished by this.

Later, Tang Qingqi was appointed as the Salt Control Commissioner. While passing through the place called Hezhong on his way to take up his post, the hired hand bid him farewell. Tang Qingqi said, “I am just about to give you a generous salary in return for your hard work.” The hired hand remained unmoved after hearing this and still requested permission to return. Tang Qingqi insisted that he stay. Having no alternative, the hired hand had to comply.

When they reached the place called Pujin, the hired hand got drunk and got into a fight Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities with someone, and as a result, he was arrested by the local officials and given dozens of heavy blows with a board. Tang Qingqi wanted to rescue him, but as it was not within the scope of his own authority, he was unable to help and had to continue on his journey alone. Just after leaving the city, the hired hand caught up with him. Tang Qingqi asked him, “You were beaten with dozens of board strikes, how could you catch up with me?” The hired hand did not answer him directly, but said, “I have come to bid farewell to the Zhongcheng.” Tang Qingqi asked him to bare his back and observed it carefully, finding no traces of injury from the beating. He was greatly astonished and immediately jumped off his horse to ask for the whole story. The hired hand replied, “Originally, I did not want to pass through Hezhong precisely because I had long anticipated that it would be disadvantageous for me here. However, to repay your sincere sincerity in urgently pleading with me to stay, I still crossed Hezhong with you. Today, I have already repaid your kindness.” After saying this, he bid farewell to the Zhongcheng and prepared to leave. The Zhongcheng offered him money and clothes, but he accepted none of it; he left the money on the ground, bowed once more to Tang Qingqi, and then turned and left.

(Ming Dynasty, Zhu Guozhen’s Yongzhuang Xiaopin; Qing Dynasty, Chu Jiaxuan’s Jianhu Ji)

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Jiao Xian

There was an old man named Jiao Xian, a native of Hedong Commandery. Although he was already over one hundred and seventy years old, his face always glowed with a rosy light, his eyes were bright and spirited, and his body was still as strong and healthy as a young man’s.

This old man had to go into the mountains to chop firewood every day. In the early morning, before the sun had risen, people would see him carrying a chopper and rope, walking at a leisurely pace towards the mountains. At dusk, when the sun was about to set, people would find him carrying wood

on his back, returning from the mountains with steady steps. Despite enduring a day of exhaustion, there was not the slightest look of fatigue on his radiant face. The old man rarely took his firewood to the market to sell. Every day, he would punctually deliver the firewood sequentially to every household in the village, without charging a single penny. For three hundred and sixty days a year, regardless of spring, summer, autumn, or winter, regardless of wind, frost, snow, or rain, there was not a single exception. The villagers were quite surprised at first, but later they gradually became accustomed to it. Sometimes, when he placed the firewood at the door, if the owner saw it, the owner would invite him into the house, lay out a mat for him to sit on, and serve him food. In such situations, the old man was not polite; he would sit straight down on the mat, bury his head in the food without exchanging a word with the owner, and leave without saying thank you after eating. Other times, if there was no owner inside the house, he would leave the firewood at the door and then wander away.

This old man, Jiao Xian, had a peculiar addiction, which was that he often ate a kind of white stone. Whenever he was chewing on this kind of stone at the village entrance or in the alleys, it would often cause adults Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities and children to stop and watch. Facing the curious onlookers, the old man would distribute some of the stones to them. When the villagers went home, boiled them, put them in their mouths, and carefully tasted their flavor, they found them to be as fragrant and delicious as taro. Everyone marveled at this.

In a flash, many years passed. It was not until after the Wei Dynasty was established that the old man left the village and came all alone to the banks of the Yellow River. Here, he built a low, small thatched hut and lived in it by himself. The small hut was completely empty; there were no vessels or sundries, not even a bed or a mat, only a straw cushion to sit on. Over time, his body became covered in filth, so dirty as if he had rolled in muddy water, to the extent that no one dared to approach him. However, he did not care at all, nor did he ever think about washing. When his clothes were torn, he would carry a few bundles of firewood to the market in exchange for old clothes to wear. Whether it was the scorching midsummer of July or the howling freezing winds of deep winter, what he wore was that same worn-out, unlined garment, and he had never changed it. What was even more extraordinary was that, in addition to often eating a kind of white stone, he only ate one meal every few days, yet his body remained perfectly healthy and unharmed. He did not like to talk much, nor did he wish to associate with others; he was especially indifferent to women and refused to get close to them. He was accustomed to doing things his own way and keeping entirely to himself. People noticed that when he went out for a walk every day, he never walked along the road. Regardless of whether the ground underfoot was flat or not, he just let nature take its course and wandered freely.

Rumors about Jiao Xian spread far and wide, becoming a topic that people in the surrounding villages loved to talk about. After Prefect Dong Jing heard some of the rumors about Jiao Xian, he felt he should go and see this unusual person for himself. However, to his disappointment, the old man had a cold expression and was completely unwilling to speak with him. Prefect Dong Jing instead felt all the more that he was noble of character and extraordinary in his conduct.

Once, a raging fire broke out in the wilderness. Driven by the wind, the fire spread rapidly and in an instant surrounded the small thatched hut where Jiao Xian lived. People rushed from all directions to save him, but they suffered from the fire being too fierce to approach. However, standing on high ground and looking through the curtain of fire, people were astonished to find that Jiao Xian was not trying to escape at all. They saw him sitting motionless in the hut with his eyes slightly closed, his expression very calm and peaceful. After the fire passed, the small hut had been reduced to ashes. Only then did Jiao Xian unhurriedly stand up. People found that even his worn-out clothes showed not the slightest trace of damage. Faced with this scene, everyone was dumbfounded. A few days later, the old man quietly rebuilt a thatched hut and returned to his leisurely and carefree life.

Another time, heavy snow suddenly began to fall from the sky. It did not stop for several days, and many people’s houses were crushed under the weight. Jiao Xian’s small hut was also buried deep in the heavy snow. He was not seen for several days. People thought he might have frozen to death, so everyone worked together to dig through the thick accumulated snow and dismantled Jiao Xian’s small hut. But to everyone’s unexpected surprise, not only had the old man not frozen to death; on the contrary, people were astonished to find him sleeping peacefully in the snow. His face was so rosy, and he was snoring loudly, just like someone sleeping soundly after getting drunk. When the crowd woke him up, he instead scolded them for interrupting his sleep.

From then on, more and more people believed that Jiao Xian was no ordinary person. Thus, many people who admired him came from all directions, drawn by his reputation, wanting to learn some peculiar Daoist arts from him. However, facing his fanatical followers, he merely said coldly: “I have no Daoist arts!” In the years that followed, people saw that sometimes he was an old man with white hair and a youthful complexion, bearing a proud and aloof expression; at other times, he looked like a youth full of vigor and energy. Just like this, Jiao Xian lived to be over two hundred years old. Sud-

denly one day, Jiao Xian inexplicably disappeared. No one knew where he had actually gone, while those who followed him were still counting on learning some magical Daoist arts from him.

(Song Dynasty · Li Fang, Taiping Guangji)

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A Daoist Blows Qi Over Two Zhang Away

One day, Xuan shi Chen Wuqiu made a special trip to Helin Temple to offer incense and fulfill a vow. At noon, he took the opportunity to eat together with the presiding monk. During their after-meal chat, Chen Wuqiu suddenly noticed a juzi (provincial graduate) sitting quietly at the very back. Although he only wore a worn-out coarse cloth garment, he was tall and powerfully built, and an air of heroism showed between his brows. Chen Wuqiu then quietly asked the presiding monk who this provincial graduate was. The presiding monk stood up, smiled, and said to him: “This Daoist is no simple man; he is quite good at conjur-

ing tricks. Today happens to be the day he leaves here. Before his departure, I specially asked him to perform a magic trick for everyone to broaden their horizons; this can be considered a parting memento.” Upon hearing these words, the provincial graduate did not decline, but happily accepted the presiding monk’s request.

Everyone went into the courtyard together. For a moment, the provincial graduate was surrounded by three inner layers and three outer layers of people. The graduate temporarily called out to a young monk, handed him a large bowl, and then told him to stand two zhang away from him. The graduate instructed the young monk: “I will channel my energy and blow qi from here. If you feel your stomach getting hot, say so quickly; otherwise, it will burn your intestines!” The young monk did not take the graduate’s warning seriously; he just stood there with a smile on his face. After the graduate finished speaking, he began to channel his energy and blow qi. They saw him assume a stance, circulate his qi to his Dantian, face the sky, and take a deep breath. After pausing for a moment, he gently blew toward the direction where the young monk was standing. After the graduate had blown just two breaths, the young monk felt a slight warmth in his abdomen. After a few breaths, the young monk felt the heat in his abdomen increase noticeably, and immediately after, it felt a bit burning hot. After blowing a few more breaths, the young monk suddenly shouted loudly: “It’s burning! I can’t take it anymore!” Seeing this scene, the onlookers suddenly became excited and abuzz; they could not believe this was real.

At this point, the graduate stopped channeling his energy and blowing qi. He walked up to the young monk, told him to urinate into the bowl, and the young monk urinated into the bowl in front of everyone. The graduate picked up the steaming, boiling hot urine and said to the onlookers: “Who can drink this?” The people present thought the graduate was playing a trick on everyone, so they felt so disgusted that they wanted to vomit. Seeing that no one in the crowd responded, the graduate laughed out loud. They saw him pick up the bowl, tilt his head back, and drink everything in the bowl until it was completely empty. Witnessing all this, the crowd instantly became dead silent; they were all stunned. The graduate then wiped his mouth with his hand, said, “We shall meet again,” and left the monastery.

The next day, the young monk did not want to eat. He felt nauseous as soon as he smelled food, and he drank many cups of water throughout the day. After some time, this young monk also left Helin Temple; people did not know where he went.

(Song Dynasty · He Shi, Chunzhou Jiwen)

Chen the Bucket Hooper

In Jiangning, Jiangsu, there is a bridge in the city called “Chen the Bucket Hooper Bridge.” People of later generations only know that this bridge was built by Chen the Bucket Hooper, but know very little about other legends concerning him.

Chen the Bucket Hooper was a recluse from the end of the Song dynasty. No one knew where his ancestral home was, no one knew his real name, and no one knew his true age. People only knew that every day he carried a shoulder pole, wandering through streets and alleys, going everywhere

calling out his trade, making a living by hooping buckets. In people’s minds, Chen the Bucket Hooper was always disheveled and barefoot. Throughout the four seasons, he wore only a thin monk’s robe, and no one had ever seen him wash it, yet it never seemed to get dirty. What people found strange was that although Chen the Bucket Hooper’s beard was already streaked with white, his eyes were as clear and bright as those of an infant. In casual conversation, most of what he talked about concerned events from a hundred years earlier, during the reigns of previous dynasty’s emperors, yet from his appearance, he seemed to be only fifty or sixty years old. Because Chen the Bucket Hooper’s appearance was unlike that of ordinary people, and his movements were especially mysterious and elusive, every time he appeared, the children from the surrounding villages would follow him like shadows they could not shake off, noisily watching to see where he was going. Whenever this happened, Chen the Bucket Hooper was never irritated or annoyed. He would still walk at his usual unhurried pace, his face always bearing a serene and indifferent smile. When Chen the Bucket Hooper hooped buckets for people, he never asked for a price — Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities — whether the host gave much or little, he accepted it with equal pleasure; when he encountered orphans and widows who had no money to give, he did not mind at all.

No one knew where Chen the Bucket Hooper lived, but everyone knew his whereabouts were always erratic. In the morning, one person might say he saw Chen the Bucket Hooper at his own doorstep, while another person would say that at that very same morning, he had spotted Chen the Bucket Hooper’s figure at a place dozens of li away. Chen the Bucket Hooper was by nature wild and uninhibited. Ordinarily, he always kept wine close at hand. After drinking, whether he was in a noisy marketplace or in a wilderness overgrown with foul weeds, he would simply collapse onto the ground, rest his head on his shoulder pole, and fall fast asleep. One evening, Chen the Bucket Hooper had been drinking again. It so happened that when the wine’s effect surged over him, he was right by the seashore. He tossed aside his carrying pole, lay down on the beach, and fell into a deep sleep. At that moment, the tide was coming in. The seawater came surging and roaring in, sweeping Chen the Bucket Hooper into the sea. The next morning, on a beach five or six li away, someone discovered Chen the Bucket Hooper lying by the shore, completely drenched. This person thought he had long since drowned, but upon drawing closer, found that he was still snoring steadily, fast asleep. After this incident spread, people all believed that Chen the Bucket Hooper was truly no ordinary person.

Later, the Yuan army invaded the Central Plains. The great army crossed the river and marched south, attacking cities and seizing territory all along the way, burning, killing, and pillaging. The people were displaced from their homes. The Jiangnan region likewise suffered the ravages of war — corpses littered the fields, farmland lay waste, and food supplies had been cut off for over a month. Many people died of starvation, yet Chen the Bucket Hooper remained entirely unharmed. People noticed that, as usual, he could still be found every day

lying drunk in the streets. No one knew whether he ate anything at all, and if he did, where his food came from.

One day, Chen the Bucket Hooper was wandering through the streets when he suddenly saw a mother and daughter being closely pursued by Yuan soldiers. The situation was extremely dire. Chen the Bucket Hooper, seeing this, quickly stepped forward and took them by the hand to run together. The mother and daughter felt that the moment Chen the Bucket Hooper took their hands, their bodies became much lighter, and they ran with exceptional swiftness. Though the enemy soldiers pursued them relentlessly, they could never catch up. In their frustration and rage, they fired cannons at them, but Chen the Bucket Hooper shielded them with his body from side to side, and the mother and daughter emerged without a single injury. When the soldiers saw this, they were terrified and stood rooted to the spot, not daring to pursue any further.

Not long after, wars and upheavals arose one after another, the world was in turmoil, and no one ever knew of Chen the Bucket Hooper’s whereabouts again.

(Qing dynasty — Mao Yanglin, Moyu Lu [Records Left After Ink])

The Art of Translocation

Borrowing a Coffin as a Carriage

Zhang Yuan Gong was a native of Shaoxing. He opened a cloth shop at the west gate of Suzhou city. Though he managed it painstakingly for several years, business was extremely sluggish, and sometimes he could not avoid losing money. Later, a shop assistant surnamed Sun came to his door, saying he was from Shaanxi and was willing to help him run the cloth shop’s business, guaranteeing that he would make the trade increasingly prosperous. At first, Zhang Yuan Gong was rather suspicious of this assistant’s words, but then he thought it over anxiously — his business had been sluggish all along, and if this assistant could truly make the cloth shop profitable, would that not be even better? And so in the end, he still

and so kept him on.

After entering the cloth shop, this assistant surnamed Sun was busy from dawn to dusk, and one rarely even heard him speak. He was honest and sincere by nature, handling matters with both caution and efficiency. Before long, Zhang Yuanong felt sufficiently at ease to let him participate in the shop’s operations. Unexpectedly, this assistant not only had a thorough understanding of market conditions, but was also adept at earning people’s trust. Every transaction he handled yielded profits three times higher than those on the market. Seeing that the assistant surnamed Sun was diligent, clever, and skilled in business, the shopkeeper regarded him even more highly and often treated him like a member of his own family.

In just a year or two, Zhang Yuanong’s business indeed grew ever more prosperous, with wealth rolling in. He opened several more cloth shops in the city of Suzhou, and before long, this assistant surnamed Sun had earned a fortune of a hundred thousand for Zhang Yuanong. Yet this young assistant never claimed credit for himself.

Not long after, Zhang Yuanong often noticed that the assistant surnamed Sun seemed downcast, as if he had troubles he could not speak of. Only upon asking did he learn that this assistant had been away from home for six or seven years and wished to take his leave of Zhang Yuanong to return to his homeland and reunite with his family. Zhang Yuanong was deeply sympathetic upon hearing this, but considering their friendship, he was reluctant to let him go. Later, the assistant repeatedly asked Zhang Yuanong for permission to return home, but Zhang Yuanong still stubbornly refused. Once, the assistant surnamed Sun said angrily: “If I died, would you still not let me go home?” Zhang Yuanong replied with a laugh: “If you truly died, I will personally escort you home. Even if the journey is three or four thousand li, I will certainly not shrink from the hardship!” After some time, the assistant surnamed Sun did indeed fall seriously ill. Zhang Yuanong attended to him day and night personally, yet his condition did not improve in the slightest. Seeing that he was on the verge of departing from this world, Zhang Yuanong asked him sorrowfully how to handle his affairs after death. He heard him reply with great effort: “My home is beside the Bell Tower in Chang’an County, Shaanxi. I have two sons at home. If you do not forget our past bond, after I die, send my coffin home and deliver it to my sons.” No sooner had he finished speaking than he died. Zhang Yuanong was deeply grieved to see the assistant surnamed Sun die. He regretted having pressed him so hard to stay, causing husband and wife, father and sons to be unable to reunite, with the result that he died in a strange land far from home. He also reflected that his current wealth was entirely thanks to the devoted efforts of Assistant Sun,

and so he resolved to follow Sun’s instructions and convey his coffin back to his old home in Shaanxi. He took out one thousand taels of gold for funeral expenses and personally arranged the carriages, horses, and manpower for the journey. Three days later, he set out escorting the coffin toward Chang’an. Between Suzhou and Chang’an lay ten thousand rivers and a thousand mountains; the journey was extremely long. Zhang Yuanong’s party could not avoid eating when hungry and drinking when thirsty, traveling by day and resting by night. After more than a month of long-distance travel, they finally arrived in Chang’an. Although both men and horses were now exhausted, what brought Zhang Yuanong comfort was that he had finally fulfilled his promise.

After asking around in all directions, Zhang Yuanong knocked on the door of the Sun family home. A moment later, the elder son of the Sun family came out to meet him. When Zhang Yuanong saw the elder son, he immediately began to weep with grief. He recounted in detail to the elder son the circumstances of his father’s death from illness and the friendship between himself and his father. Strangely, the elder son’s manner was exceedingly cold — one could scarcely detect the slightest expression of grief on his face. He merely instructed the household servants calmly: “The master’s coffin has been brought back. First set it down to the side of the main hall.” This behavior made Zhang Yuanong feel utterly bewildered, and for a moment he did not know what to do. Before long, the younger son came out. He did offer Zhang Yuanong a few words of thanks, but his expression was as though nothing at all had happened. Seeing these two sons, Zhang Yuanong was greatly shocked. He felt that these two sons were simply not human. At the same time he was puzzled — the man surnamed Sun had been so honest and good-natured, so how could the sons he raised be as devoid of human feeling as animals?

Just as Zhang Yuanong stood in the courtyard in astonishment and anger, he heard Sun’s wife calling out loudly from inside the house: “The guest has come from far away — how could he not be hungry? I have already prepared wine and food, but unfortunately there is no one to keep him company. What do you think we should do?” The two sons replied: “Mr. Zhang is our father’s master. As members of the younger generation, we dare not presume to accompany and serve him.” Their mother said further: “In that case, we have no choice but to have your departed father keep him company.” With that, she told her two sons to set up the banquet table. She herself picked up a large axe, walked in a few strides to the coffin, and before Zhang Yuanong could even comprehend what was happening, she split open the coffin and feigned anger, saying: “You’re already home — why do you still put on this appearance?” Suddenly, laughter came from inside the coffin, and immediately after, the coffin lid was flung open. The assistant surnamed Sun

actually sat up from inside the coffin. When Zhang Yuanong saw this sight, he recoiled in fright. He had not expected the assistant surnamed Sun to walk straight toward him, grasp both his hands, and say with a laugh: “After all those years with you, you truly are a man of honor and trustworthiness! You have personally delivered me home after all.” Zhang Yuanong, still shaken, carefully scrutinized Assistant Sun, and after confirming that he was not a ghost, said in a reproachful tone: “You have always been an honest and decent person — why would you play such a joke?” The one surnamed Sun laughed and said: “If I had not done this, would you ever have let me come home? Besides, traveling home by carriage or on horseback would have been too exhausting. It was far more peaceful and comfortable to lie in a coffin.” When Zhang Yuanong asked why he had eaten nothing and was able to remain in the coffin for a whole month, the man surnamed Sun smiled mysteriously and gave him no clear answer.

Zhang Yuanong stayed at the Sun family home for three days. When he was about to leave, he still hoped that the man surnamed Sun would return to Suzhou with him, but the one surnamed Sun replied: “To tell you the truth, your fate decrees that your household wealth can only amount to one hundred thousand. Even if I were to serve as your assistant again, your family’s fortune would not increase.” Zhang Yuanong had no choice but to bid a tearful farewell to the man surnamed Sun.

But to the very end, Zhang Yuanong never did figure out what kind of person the one surnamed Sun truly was.

(Qing dynasty — Yuan Mei, Zi Bu Yu)

Beggars Catch Snakes

In former times, in the western countryside around Xushuguan in Suzhou, an enormous venomous snake appeared and endangered the local populace. When summer arrived and the weather turned hot, the people for several li around would often develop a type of sore ulcer, which was extremely painful. After examination by doctors, the illness was diagnosed as being caused by infection from the toxic substance released by the giant snake. The local villagers were furious and resolved to eliminate this venomous snake that plagued the western countryside. But who among them knew how to catch snakes? They searched everywhere for a skilled snake catcher, but for a long time had no success.

One day, three people who looked like beggars arrived in the village. Among them

The older beggar was the master, and the two younger ones were his disciples. They said they could catch the snake, but it would cost a great deal of money! The villagers were half-doubting, half-believing, but since they could find no one else, they had no choice but to let them try. The villagers then gathered together enough money to hire them to catch the snake.

After resting in the village for a few days, the three beggars set out to catch the snake. They brought a basket full of large centipedes and two enormous iron hooks; apart from these, they had no other tools. Master and disciples searched along the way for the snake’s den, and finally found it beside a rocky hillside overgrown with weeds. They did not seem to be in any hurry to catch the snake. The old beggar simply sat down cross-legged and began breathing exercises to circulate his qi. Before long, a pale blue vapor seemed to rise from the top of the old beggar’s head. The two disciples hurriedly opened the basket and poured the large centipedes over the old beggar from head to foot. Every one of these centipedes was over four inches long, and they seemed to have been starving for a long time. As soon as they saw a person, they bit and sucked blood frantically. In an instant, the old beggar’s body was covered with purple-black bite marks, and his whole body swelled up as though inflated. The two disciples hastily gathered these engorged centipedes back into the basket. The old beggar deepened his breathing, causing the qi to circulate faster throughout his body. Apart from his index and middle fingers, which became as thick as tree trunks, the swelling over his entire body quickly subsided.

By this point, the old beggar’s preparations appeared to be complete. He stood up and ordered the two disciples to stand on either side of the snake’s den, each holding an iron hook. He took a deep breath, and with a sudden thrust, plunged his two fingers into the snake’s den. After a short while, the old beggar gave a shout and used every ounce of strength to pull his arm out of the hole. The two disciples assisted with all their might using the iron hooks. After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, all three had broken out in a light sweat on their foreheads, yet the arm had still not been pulled free. The old beggar exchanged a glance with the two disciples, and the three of them combined their strength to wrench the arm out. The giant snake, biting tightly onto the old beggar’s fingers, was dragged out along with it, trailing like a long halberd. The snake was already dead, rigid and straight, as thick as a bowl’s rim, and easily over eight feet long. On closer inspection of the snake’s body, there were spots of purple-black marks, as though it had been bitten by centipedes. The old beggar produced a bottle of medicinal liquid from his robes and sprinkled it on his two fingers. The fingers were then released from the snake’s mouth, and upon inspection they had returned to their original state, without the slightest trace of injury.

The three carried the snake back to the village. When the people saw it, all their long-held resentment burst forth at once.

They took out brush knives and hacked at it frantically, then piled up firewood and burned the snake. A foul stench spread with the thick smoke, and could be smelled for several li around. But the three beggars had departed. No one knew where they went. Perhaps they had gone elsewhere to use this method of “fighting poison with poison” to punish other vicious snakes.

(Qing Dynasty · Baiyi Jushi, Record of the Pot Heaven [Hutian Lu])

Entering Transformation and Transcendence — Extraordinary Abilities

Object Transportation

(Ban Yun Shu)

Prince Shansha

Tang was an arrest commissioner in Jiankang, specializing in work involving wanted notices and apprehending criminals. Among his colleagues, Tang was renowned for his quick movements and rapid case-solving. Especially in investigating theft cases, he was exceptionally skilled and caught culprits with ease. Therefore, whenever thieves heard Tang’s name, they would all tremble with fear and flee at the mere news of his approach. In fact, Tang himself had previously been a notorious thief. He exclusively stole from wealthy, prominent households and never harassed or disturbed the poor commoners. When Tang committed theft, he was often elusive

and unpredictable, leaving not a single flaw or trace, making it impossible for the wealthy to defend against him. Later, Tang’s reputation in the underworld grew day by day, and many people voluntarily went to join him and accept his leadership. The government office had sent people multiple times to hunt him down everywhere, but to no avail. Seeing that eradication was hopeless, the government had no choice but to send someone to offer him amnesty. Tang had already grown tired of the wandering life in the martial world, so he gladly accepted the amnesty. The government, disregarding past grievances, let him serve as an arrest commissioner to utilize his special skills. After Tang took up the post of arrest commissioner, he was truly like a fish in water. Before long, several notorious outlaws who had refused amnesty were apprehended and brought to justice by him, and other thieves, seeing this, surrendered one after another. For a time, thieves became nearly extinct in the area under Tang’s jurisdiction.

One day, a young man suddenly sought refuge at the Tang household, and Tang received him. The young man was seen wearing clean clothes, behaving gently and refinedly, and carrying a book chest on his back. Tang asked who he was, and the young man claimed to be the son of the Prince of Shansha, stepping forward to bow and salute. Tang had long heard that the son of the Prince of Shansha was adept at stealing, but he did not know what he was doing here today. So, without batting an eye, he invited the young man to rest for a while before they could chat in detail. However, the young man declined, saying, “How dare I stay when you, Lord Observer, are here? I plan to go to Hezhou, but unfortunately, this book chest is too heavy to carry. I hope you can lend me a porter to help me carry the book chest to Dongyang Town, where I will then take a boat to cross the river.” Tang thought that this young man definitely would not pass through here just to transport a book chest and presumably had other motives. Therefore, he selected a clever and alert apprentice to accompany him in order to scout out his actions.

That day, Tang’s apprentice followed the young man out of the city gate and onto the road. Along the way, the apprentice paid extremely vigilant attention to the young man’s actions, but two days passed without him noticing the slightest suspicious behavior. On the contrary, he felt that the young man was not only straightforward and enthusiastic but also somewhat uninhibited and wild. After leaving the city gate, whenever they encountered a tavern, large or small, the young man would drink until he was dead drunk, staggering and unable to walk. Whenever this happened, the apprentice following him had no choice but to carry the book chest on his left side and support the drunkard with his right hand, exhausted to the point of total fatigue. He could not help but mutter in his heart:

Lord Observer Tang thought he was a master, but now it seems he is nothing more than a drunkard who loves his cup. After walking for seventy li, they finally arrived at a town, and the apprentice led the drunken young man into an inn. After the young man vomited loudly, he collapsed onto the bed. He kept asking for water to drink all night, making noise and tossing about for the entire night.

Early the next morning, while the young man was still sleeping with his head covered, there came an urgent knock on the door from outside. The apprentice hurried to open the door, unexpectedly finding Lord Observer Tang. Tang looked to be in a hurry; it seemed there must be some important matter. Tang quietly inquired of his apprentice and, learning that the young man was still sleeping, immediately walked softly into the young man’s bedroom, wanting to inspect his belongings. However, before he could even start, the young man woke up. Seeing that Tang had arrived, the young man immediately sat up and asked Tang what official business brought him here so early in the morning. At first, Tang found it hard to speak and just stood there thoughtfully. Seeing Tang’s stern expression, the young man smiled and said, “Could it be that you suspect me of committing crimes along the way? He has been with me the whole time!” Saying this, he pointed to Tang’s apprentice standing beside him, and the apprentice also nodded. Seeing that Tang had something on his mind but found it difficult to speak, the young man added, “Since that is the case, there is probably some other reason? If you have any matter, I am willing to help!” Tang hesitated before finally opening his mouth: “I certainly dare not suspect you, but last night a tavern lost several silver vessels. The government office sent a dispatch overnight to the Zhisi (Administrative Commission), setting a deadline to track down the culprit. The slightest negligence in this matter will result in severe punishment. I am at my wits’ end, so I hurried here…” Upon hearing this, the young man smiled slightly and said, “If so, the stakes are high. I fear it is a monster causing trouble, which cannot be accomplished by human power. The only way is to plead to the incense offering you usually worship; perhaps you can obtain the protection of the divine spirits.” Tang guessed that those silver vessels must be on the young man’s person, but lacking solid evidence, it was inconvenient to press further. He just strongly urged him to return with him to make further plans.

Upon returning home, the young man still told Tang to go to the shrine to pray according to the method he had described. Tang understood that this might be some trick of his, but figuring he might as well give it a

try. So, very reluctantly, he went to the shrine to pray. Unexpectedly, just as the prayer ended, he saw all the lost silver vessels gleaming brightly placed beneath the altar table. Tang could not help but be astonished. He had not expected the young man to possess such extraordinary skills. When he walked out of the shrine to look for the young man, he found that the young man had already left.

— (Song Dynasty, Si Mi’s Guixin Zashi)

Borrowing Objects

The area around Puguan Mountain in Yunnan is remote and rarely visited by people, yet a temple stands there in isolation. Interestingly, the temple enshrines neither Guanyin Bodhisattva nor Shakyamuni, but Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King (Tuota Tianwang), one of the Four Heavenly Kings. Merchants and travelers passing through this place could not help but feel puzzled. In fact, there is a bizarre story behind this.

About ten to twenty miles away from Puguan Mountain, on Longhua Mountain in Yaozhou, there is a Living Buddha Temple (Huofo Si). This temple was established in the early Tang Dynasty.

Ever since its establishment, wealthy families donated generously, devout men and women came in an endless stream, and the incense offerings were extremely flourishing. At its peak, there were hundreds of monks in the temple, and its reputation was prominent and influential. Some monks and Daoist priests who traveled the world often came with admiration, and most of them stayed in the temple, unwilling to leave.

One day, a traveling monk arrived from afar, weary and dusty from Jizu Mountain in Dali Prefecture. This monk staggered to the temple gate and knocked on the door ring. When a young novice monk opened the door and saw him, he could not help but be startled. He saw that the monk’s hair was messy, his face was haggard and scorched black, making it impossible to distinguish his facial features. He wore a Daoist robe as tattered as a fishing net, and his shoes were open at the toes, exposing all ten toes. In his left hand, he carried a Buddhist staff (chanzhang), and in his right, he held a gourd. He spoke incoherently and stood unsteadily, as if suffering from a mental illness. Seeing this, the novice ran in immediately to report to the abbot. After a while, the abbot and the monks came to the temple gate. Seeing the man muttering and not looking like a normal person, the monks frowned and were unwilling to let him enter the temple. However, the abbot had a generous and compassionate heart. He chanted “Amitabha” and let the monk into the monastery.

After arriving at the monastery, the monk slept every day after eating and was unwilling to do his daily recitations, which made the monks very unhappy. Having no other choice, the abbot arranged for him to work in the kitchen, asking him to chop wood and light the fire. Unexpectedly, he was quite willing. Just like that, he stayed in the Living Buddha Temple for several years.

However, on New Year’s Eve one year, he suddenly proposed to the abbot that he wanted to return to Jizu Mountain in Dali Prefecture, and begged for someone to be assigned to carry his clothes and luggage. The abbot listened and laughed heartily: “Everyone is celebrating New Year’s Eve; who is willing to go with you? Think about it, Jizu Mountain is at least a few hundred miles away from here, and the road is rugged and perilous. It cannot be reached in one night. You had better wait until tomorrow!” But the monk insisted on returning, constantly pleading in front of the abbot. The abbot, having no alternative, jokingly pointed to the statues of the Heavenly Kings in the Maitreya Hall and said, “Look! These Four Heavenly Kings are idling around with nothing to do. Let them go with you tonight, what do you think?” The monk stared at the Four Heavenly Kings, blinked, and then said “Okay,” and walked away.

12

The next morning, a monk ran in panic to the abbot and stammered that one of the Four Heavenly Kings, the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King, was missing. Upon hearing this news, the abbot was stunned. He closed his eyes in thought for a moment, then sent someone to check if that crazy monk was still around. The person returned and said that the monk had disappeared. At this, a mysterious smile appeared on the abbot’s face, and none of the monks knew what was going on.

Before noon, news came that someone had seen a statue of the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King on Puguan Mountain, ten to twenty miles away. The abbot of the Living Buddha Temple immediately sent someone to verify, and it turned out that this Heavenly King statue was exactly the one lost from the Living Buddha Temple. When the abbot explained the whole story to the monks, they were all dumbfounded with astonishment. They never expected that this crazy monk actually possessed such extraordinary abilities. Later, people specifically built a temple on Puguan Mountain.

In Yijian Zhi (Records of Yijian), there is a record similar to the above. In the Miaoguo Temple in Raozhou, there was a lean monk who was much disliked by everyone. One day, he said he wanted to travel the world and begged the elder to find someone to carry his luggage. The elder, unable to refuse, joked: “Of the two Vajra warriors at the front door, just take one with you!” To his surprise, the monk gladly agreed. Walking out the door, the monk placed the load on the Vajra’s shoulder and said, “Let’s go!” The Vajra picked up the load and followed him. The monks in the temple were all horrified when they saw this, and they shouted as they chased after that monk. After chasing for a long distance, the monk looked back at the crowd, smiled, took the load from the Vajra’s shoulder, placed it on his own shoulder, and then sped away, leaving only the stiff Vajra standing in the field. Later, people built a temple where the Vajra stood, naming it Jingang (Vajra) Temple.

In addition, Mingzhai Xiaoshi (Small Records from the Ming Studio) once recounted an incident of a strange monk borrowing a vat.

In a place called Ganshan, there was a monastery with a pagoda inside. After this pagoda was built, two large vats were placed on its top. The two vats, one placed face down and the other face up, were large in size and heavy in weight; without dozens of people, they could not be easily moved.

One day, a wandering monk came to the monastery. He walked around the pagoda several times

and looked at the top of the pagoda for a long time. Nobody knew what he was going to do. The monk finally found the elder and said: “A pagoda has been built in a place very far away from here, and it is about to be capped. But there is only one vat placed face up on the top, and it still lacks a face-down vat. I see that there are extra large vats on the top of this monastery’s pagoda. I hope to borrow one so that the other pagoda can be capped on schedule. In this way, your merits and virtues will be boundless!” The elder was very surprised to hear this. He did not know what method the monk would use to take the large vat down, or how many people would be needed to transport the large vat to the place where the pagoda was being built, but he still nodded vaguely in agreement. Seeing the elder gladly promise, the monk left happily.

In the evening, the weather suddenly changed dramatically. For a time, strong winds blew, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and people were also surprised to hear the crashing sounds made when moving things. At first, people did not know what had happened. When dawn broke the next day, a monk looked up and was shocked. It turned out that the face-down vat on the top of the pagoda had been moved away by someone unknown.

(Qing Dynasty - Yu Yue, Youtai Xianguan Biji [Notes from the Immortal Hall of the Right Terrace] Qing Dynasty - Zhu Muxiang, Mingzhai Xiaoshi [Small Records from the Ming Studio]) 1.↓

The Iron Abacus

Mr. Li was a businessman who spent most of the year traveling and hustling between Suzhou and Hangzhou. He was kind and broad-minded, and thus many people were willing to befriend him.

One day, having concluded a business deal, Mr. Li was about to take a boat back from Hangzhou. Just as the boat was leaving the dock, a youth was seen running to the shore, panting heavily. Waving and shouting, he hoped the boat owner would let him board. The boat owner and the crowd saw that this youth was dressed in rags and had an unkempt appearance; none were willing…

…to turn the boat back. Seeing that the boat owner had no intention of returning, the youth wandered disconsolately along the shore. At this sight, Mr. Li said to his fellow passengers with great sympathy: “I suppose this youth may be all alone in the world with nowhere to go, which is truly pitiful. We have such a large boat, why should we begrudge him this one seat?” The boat owner and the passengers felt Mr. Li’s words made sense, so they docked again and let the youth board.

After boarding, the youth sat quietly in a corner of the boat, observing every passenger with a pair of sharp eyes, while the passengers paid little attention to this last youth to board. The boat traveled for more than half a day until they reached Changshan. The waterway was coming to an end, and everyone was about to disembark to travel by land. At this moment, the youth stood up from the unnoticed corner, bowed to everyone with a grateful smile, and said: “We met by chance and were strangers to one another, but thanks to everyone’s care, I was able to travel on this boat with you all. Now that we are about to part ways, I would very much like to express my gratitude by treating everyone to a hearty meal. Whoever wants to eat something, just ask, and I will satisfy your requests!”

The passengers found the youth’s words hilarious; they felt he was talking in his sleep. One passenger wanted to give the youth a hard time and make fun of him, so he stepped forward first and said in a mocking tone: “Setting aside bird’s nest and bear’s paw for now, yesterday when the boat passed a certain place, a restaurant sold some delicious baozi (stuffed buns). Thinking about it now still makes my mouth water. Since you intend to treat us, eating those baozi will do; I have no other requests.” After this passenger spoke, the others expressed their agreement one after another.

However, one passenger refused to follow suit; looking quite solemn, he said he wanted to eat a roast chicken. Before he could finish, the passengers couldn’t help but burst into roaring laughter, because they thought the youth was so poor that, let alone roast chicken, he definitely couldn’t even afford baozi. The youth nodded to the crowd, said “Alright,” and went back to his bunk, covering his head and falling fast asleep.

As the boat was nearing the shore, the passengers saw that the youth was still fast asleep without any movement. Someone went up and woke him. The youth was seen yawning and blaming the passenger for interrupting his sweet dream. The passenger said loudly in a bad temper: “Our stomachs are rumbling with hunger, where are the things you promised to treat us to?” The youth said nonchalantly:

“Look how anxious you are! I’m just here preparing the dough and mixing the filling!” After speaking, he lay back on the bunk and started snoring loudly again. The crowd was too lazy to take him seriously and dispersed in disappointment. After a while, everyone simultaneously smelled the aroma of baozi, followed by a rich, mouth-watering fragrance of roast chicken wafting towards them, and this aroma was emanating from right under the quilt the youth was covered with.

Smelling this tempting scent, the passengers all felt very puzzled. Someone dismissively said that this was just the sleeper breathing it out of his mouth. Not long after, the youth sat up from the bunk and said to the crowd: “The food is out of the steamer!” He lifted the quilt, and the entire bunk was covered with steaming hot baozi. Everyone also found that in one corner of the bunk, there was a plump roast chicken.

So the passengers opened their appetites and had a hearty meal, and the passenger who specifically asked for the roast chicken was so happy he couldn’t close his mouth. Afterwards, everyone couldn’t help but feel deep respect for the youth. Some asked the youth what kind of magic he used, but he only smiled and did not answer.

After the boat docked, everyone went their separate ways. The youth specifically sought out the passenger surnamed Li and made an appointment to meet him at a place three li away. Full of doubts, Mr. Li went to the location designated by the youth, only to find that the youth was already waiting there with a smile. The youth did not say much, but simply took out a few pieces of paper from his person and handed them to Mr. Li.

Mr. Li looked closely and saw that they were travel vouchers from various commercial brokerages. From this place to Mr. Li’s hometown, the boats, carts, and horses for the entire journey had already been arranged for him by the youth. Mr. Li was very surprised to see these vouchers and asked what was going on. The youth replied calmly: “To tell you the truth, I am the ‘Iron Abacus’ that people in the jianghu (martial world) often talk about. We make a living by stealing other people’s money, but we don’t need to personally pick pockets or open boxes; we have our own ways of obtaining other people’s wealth. The targets we steal from are generally those who have made unjust wealth. To tell you the truth, I have already stolen half of the wealth of those rich men on the boat. Because you are kind and honest, I didn’t take yours, and I also specially hired boats, carts, and horses for you to repay your deep kindness to me.”

After hearing these words, Mr. Li was so astonished that he was speechless. He then asked the youth: “From here to my home is several hundred li away, how could you get these things done immediately?” The youth replied nonchalantly: “For people like us, even things from a thousand li away…

…can be obtained instantly. A few hundred li is simply like being right before your eyes; it’s not worth mentioning at all.”

The youth also specifically reminded Mr. Li: “There are quite a few people like me in the jianghu; it’s just that ordinary people cannot spot them. In the future, when you travel away from home, you can put a little of the Five Grains or official government stamps in your luggage bag, and then you won’t be secretly plotted against by sorcerers.”

When Mr. Li expressed his gratitude to the youth, the youth said: “The money spent on hiring the boats and carts was all taken from the passengers; there is nothing to thank me for!” After saying that, he left.

Mr. Li embarked on the journey home alone. Every time he arrived at a place, he would take the vouchers to the various commercial brokerages to verify them, and there was not a single mistake. Along the way, boats, carts, and horses were provided as promised, and Mr. Li returned to his hometown without spending a single penny. Many years passed, but Mr. Li could never forget this legendary experience, and he often recounted this incident to the people around him.

Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities

(Qing Dynasty · Yu Yue, Notes from the Right Terrace Immortal Pavilion)

The Wealthy Merchant

Some extraordinary individuals who possess remarkable abilities normally conceal their identities among ordinary people, unwilling to easily reveal who they are. Yet at critical moments, they often use their wondrous skills to rescue the endangered and aid the distressed, suppress evil and uphold virtue, and to champion justice.

The story goes that in a bustling district of the capital, there was an inn called the Xincheng Inn, and business was booming. A wealthy merchant had just arrived at the inn, having traveled all the way from Shanxi. This man dressed in luxurious finery and behaved arrogantly. He was flanked by servants who bowed submissively to his every command, and when he went out, he rode

a tall, sturdy, and vigorous horse. When conversing with others, he would always flaunt his wealth in every possible way, and would rather smugly boast to people that his purpose in coming to the capital was to spend money to buy an official position.

One day, an old man past sixty came to the inn looking for this wealthy merchant. The old man wore plain cloth clothing, his hair was gray, and his appearance was extremely haggard and gaunt. Upon seeing this, the servant was reluctant to announce him, so the old man had no choice but to squat at the main gate and wait slowly. After the greater part of the day had passed, the old man finally met the wealthy merchant. He rushed forward full of joy, but the merchant held his head high as if looking at the sky beyond, his attitude exceptionally cold. Out of sheer reluctance, the merchant grudgingly ushered the poor old man into a teahouse, poured him only a single cup of tea, and without wishing to exchange even a word of pleasantries, sat coldly to one side and ignored the old man. The old man wore a humble smile on his face. Several times he opened his mouth but hesitated, and finally stammered: “To tell you the truth, I have recently fallen into extreme poverty and my circumstances are dire. I suddenly recalled that several years ago I lent you one hundred taels of silver. Now that your business is thriving, could you return those one hundred taels of silver to me?” As soon as the old man finished saying this, the Shanxi merchant immediately furrowed his brow and pulled a long face. He shook his head vigorously and said ill-temperedly: “Ah, I haven’t even managed to gather enough money to purchase an official post yet. How could I possibly have the means to help you? You had best leave at once!” Upon hearing these words, the old man felt as though he had been struck on the head. He had never imagined that the wealthy merchant could be so ungrateful. For a moment, he was so angry that his hands trembled and he did not know what to say. Seeing that the teahouse was crowded with customers, the old man cast aside all restraint and publicly recounted the origins of this Shanxi merchant. Listening to the old man’s angry account, the customers all sympathized with the old man’s plight, while they sneered at the wealthy merchant who was rich but heartless.

It turned out that the merchant had lost both parents at an early age and lived in extreme hardship. Out of compassion, the old man had frequently provided him with financial assistance. Over a dozen years passed, and the merchant finally grew to adulthood. The old man then lent him one hundred taels of silver, hoping he would start a business, marry and have children, and live a proper life. Who would have expected that the merchant was quite adept at profiteering, and in just a few years he had accumulated considerable family wealth. During this same period, the old man, having been implicated in some matter, was dismissed from his official post and had no choice but to wander the capital and drift in a strange land. Now, hearing that the merchant had arrived, the old man was overjoyed, as if he had encountered a savior. He hoped to recover from the merchant’s hands the small amount of silver he had previously lent him,

partly to repay his debts, and partly to cover the cost of returning to his hometown. But he never expected that the merchant would have a heart as hard as iron, with not the slightest regard for their old friendship.

After the old man finished speaking, tears of grief streamed down his face, yet the Shanxi merchant seemed as though he had heard nothing at all, without the slightest stir. Among those seated was a man surnamed Yang who had been quietly and impassively listening to the old man’s account the entire time. At this point, he slowly took a sip of tea, then walked over to the merchant’s table and, with a warm and courteous smile, asked: “Is what this old man says true?” Seeing that this person was unremarkable in appearance and had no connection whatsoever to himself, the merchant said shamelessly: “That’s how it was, but that’s all in the past. I simply have no ability to repay him now, so what can be done about it?” With that, he turned his head to one side. Upon hearing this, the man surnamed Yang said amicably: “You are about to become an official — surely you needn’t worry about having nowhere to borrow money? Very well, then: if someone were willing to lend you one hundred taels of silver, to be repaid within one year, with not a single copper of interest charged, would you be willing to return that full one hundred taels of silver to the old man?” Hearing these words, the merchant fell into hesitation, but seeing that all the customers present were watching him with contempt, he reluctantly replied: “Of course, of course I would.” The man surnamed Yang immediately said: “Good, then write out an IOU. I happen to have exactly one hundred taels of silver here.” Pressured by public opinion, the merchant had no choice but to reluctantly write out an IOU under the watchful eyes of the crowd. The man surnamed Yang took the IOU, turned around, opened a battered trunk, and then and there produced one hundred taels of silver, which he handed to the Shanxi merchant. The Shanxi merchant, most unwillingly, returned the silver to the old man.

Seeing that the old man had finally received the silver, the man surnamed Yang called over the inn’s waiter to prepare a banquet table, and asked the old man and the Shanxi merchant to stay and drink together. Having obtained the silver, the old man was naturally very happy. He drank and chatted with the man surnamed Yang. The merchant, however, was full of displeasure. He merely drank two cups perfunctorily and then excused himself and left. A few days after this incident, the man surnamed Yang moved out of the inn. No one knew where he had gone.

After some time had passed, one day, when the Shanxi merchant opened his trunk to check his silver, he could not help but be startled. He discovered that the silver in the trunk had inexplicably diminished by one hundred taels. Strangely, the lock and seal on the trunk were perfectly intact, without the slightest

trace of having been broken into. He wanted to question the innkeeper, but could not bring himself to open his mouth, so he had no choice but to accept his misfortune. When the Shanxi merchant checked another trunk, he discovered that a fox-fur vest was also missing, but found a pawn ticket inside the trunk. The pawn ticket stated a pawn value of two thousand cash, an amount that exactly equaled the cost of the banquet the man surnamed Yang had arranged not long before. At this point, the Shanxi merchant finally came to his senses. He realized that the man surnamed Yang was someone who understood the arts of magic.

Later, when the guests at the inn learned of this matter, they all clapped their hands in delight. The Shanxi merchant, utterly humiliated, secretly left the Xincheng Inn within a few days and moved to another place.

(Qing Dynasty — Ji Xiaolan, Notes from the Thatched Abode of Close Observations)

Extraordinary Abilities

Dream Verification and Ill Fate

Same Examination Roll, Different Dreams

Wang Yaozai and Liu Huiqing were fellow townsmen. They were close in age and had been good friends since childhood. As boys they went to school and studied together, and as they grew up they would enjoy wine and compose poetry together, inseparable day in and day out.

Before they had reached twenty, both passed the local examination on the same roll and were designated xiucai. The two were overjoyed and studied even more diligently, hoping soon to pass the provincial examination, yet year after year they went to sit for the exam and always failed. Later they both married and started families. Liu Huiqing seemed content with this ordinary

life and no longer wished to pursue official distinction, but Wang Yaozai was otherwise inclined. He studied furiously, single-mindedly determined to pass the provincial examination and achieve official rank.

One day, the two friends gathered together, exchanging cups and pouring their hearts out in candid conversation. Liu Huiqing said to Wang Yaozai with great excitement: “Let me tell you — I have had a son.” Wang Yaozai raised his cup and said: “Wonderful! Congratulations are in order. Come, let us drink!” Liu Huiqing drained a cup, then continued: “Do you know? Last night I dreamed that the Taiyi Star descended to earth. It told me I would have a son. Strange, isn’t it? When I awoke and looked, I had indeed gained a son.” Wang Yaozai nodded in agreement: “That must surely be an auspicious omen!” Liu Huiqing added: “The Taiyi Star even gave my son a name! He is to be called Yilin!” When Wang Yaozai heard this, he could not help but startle, and said: “What? Called Liu Yilin?” A hint of displeasure immediately showed on his face. Liu Huiqing, seeing him like this, quickly asked: “What is it? Brother Wang, why this displeasure? There is not the slightest intention of mockery in what I have said.” Wang Yaozai shook his head and let out a deep sigh: “Alas! How could this be! I too had a dream. I dreamed that I passed the provincial examination, and my name and that of Liu Yilin appeared together on the same roll. If this were true, would I not have to wait another ten or twenty years? Would I not have become an old man by then?” Liu Huiqing hurriedly consoled him: “There are many people who share the same name and surname. You should not overthink it. Besides, dreams are not necessarily real.”

From then on, every time Wang Yaozai visited Liu Huiqing, he would always pick up his son and jokingly address him as “fellow senior scholar.” Liu Yilin was exceptionally intelligent from childhood. Whatever texts he read, he could remember after a single glance, and whatever essays he wrote were so fluent and accomplished that people marveled. Before they knew it, Liu Yilin had reached sixteen years of age, while Wang Yaozai still had not passed the provincial examination and had repeatedly met with setbacks.

In the bingzi year of the Wanli reign of the Ming Dynasty, Liu Yilin and Wang Yaozai sat for the provincial examination together. On the day the results were posted, Wang Yaozai went to see the list. The three characters “Wang Yaozai” finally appeared on the roll — he had finally achieved his proud ambition. Strangely, the three characters “Liu Yilin” were in the very same line as his name, exactly matching the dream from sixteen years before. How could this not be called wondrous?

Sixteen years later, the dream was fulfilled. Who can explain the mystery behind it?

— From Qing Dynasty, Ruan Kuisheng, Chaoyu Kehua (Idle Talk over Tea)

Dream Verification and a Harsh Fate

Wu Zhengzhi

In Luoyang, Henan, there was a man named Wu Xin, whose courtesy name was Zhengzhi.

From a young age he practiced the martial arts and was exceptionally brave. He later passed the military examination. In the early Shaoxing reign period, he was appointed as Commandant at Wugang. He was extremely strict in his official duties, rigorously training the officers and men under his command while holding himself to the same standards, so he was deeply beloved by his troops. The commandery governor, Huang Junxing, was a greedy and unpopular official, and consequently grew very jealous of him.

At that time, in the Hunan and Hubei regions, there was a band of brigands whose leader

was named Cao Cheng. He spent his days burning, killing, and pillaging, ravaging the common people, who complained bitterly. The authorities had previously dispatched troops to encircle and suppress them, but every force returned defeated, and so the brigand Cao Cheng grew ever more arrogant and brazen.

Then one day, these bandits actually prepared to come attack the city of Wugang. When the Wugang commandery governor Huang Junxing heard this news, he hastily took his subordinates, gathered up their valuables, and fled in panic to hide in the mountains. The entire city’s populace was instantly thrown into chaos, with cries shaking the heavens. But Wu Xin, with righteous indignation, swore to all the city’s people that he would use his very life to resist the bandit invasion and protect the entire populace from the harm of these vicious brigands. He gathered his soldiers and officers, along with the able-bodied young men of the city, and vowed to defend the city to the death.

Two days later, a great horde of bandits arrived at the city walls, ready to attack Wugang. Wu Xin, stationed atop the city wall, suddenly spotted a mounted officer coming from the bandit camp, seemingly to reconnoiter the city’s defenses. Looking more carefully, he discovered that this mounted officer was none other than his old friend, Physician Hao. From the watchtower he called out loudly in angry rebuke:

“Physician Hao! You do not attend to your old mother at home, but have instead become a bandit — could it be that you too have grown covetous of wealth?”

When Physician Hao saw that the defending officer was Wu Xin, tears streamed down his face involuntarily, and he wept, saying: “Alas, you truly do not know the whole story. When this bandit Cao Cheng and his gang attacked my home, they saw that I could still handle brush and ink and knew something of martial arts, so they forced me to join their band. I refused, and he threatened to execute my old mother. I was trapped with no way out and could only compromise to preserve my life. Now, seeing my old friend Wu Xin again, my shame is truly unbearable!”

Wu Xin sighed and said: “Alas, these vicious bandits are truly hateful! But to tell you the truth, there are no longer any wealthy or powerful great families left in the city. If you attack the city, you will only bring harm to innocent common folk. I think that once you enter the city, it will only add more pitiable people like yourself to the bandit camp! My death is no cause for regret, but I pity these common people!” Physician Hao shook his head helplessly, then suddenly asked: “The purpose of Cao Cheng’s attack on Wugang this time was to come plunder the family of Huang Junxing. His family’s wealth is counted in the tens of thousands; they can be called the wealthiest in the city. And he is some sort of commandery governor, is he not?”

When Wu Xin heard this, he scoffed: “Hmph! What commandery governor! Cowardly and fearful of death — he fled long ago.” Physician Hao listened, then clasped his hands in greeting and said: “Then this is for the best. I shall return and report this, and you will be able to preserve this city and all its people. Farewell!” With that, he spurred his horse and whipped it, returning to camp. Before long, Cao Cheng’s bandit forces withdrew, and the entire city’s people were saved. Because of this, everyone respected Wu Xin even more.

The commandery governor Huang Junxing returned to the city from the mountains and hurriedly sought credit and rewards from the court, claiming that

he had dispatched troops and defeated the bandit Cao Cheng, thereby saving the people and the city from harm. He further falsely accused Wu Xin of colluding with the rebel bandits. The court, without sending anyone to investigate, bestowed rewards and promotions upon Huang Junxing, while Wu Xin was demoted and transferred elsewhere.

Before they knew it, several years had passed. In the year Dingsi, Wu Xin served as Commandant of Qingxiang in Quanzhou. He remained an honest and upright official, deeply respected by the local people, and his days passed uneventfully. Suddenly one night, Wu Xin fell into a trance-like state, as though dreaming. In the dream, an old man with white hair and a youthful complexion, wearing a Daoist robe of the Infinite and Eight Trigrams, drifted gracefully into his room and conversed with him.

Wu Xin told the old man in distress: “I serve as an official with integrity, yet I am always pushed aside by others!” The old man told him: “Your life in this world depends entirely on the karma of your past lives. The evil deeds you commit in this life will bring punishment in your next reincarnation. In your past life you established meritorious deeds and accumulated hidden virtue, so your son will achieve scholarly honors and success in the future. Do you still recall the meritorious deeds you performed in the foremost prefecture of the southeast?” After speaking, he drifted away. Wu Xin hurriedly tried to ask for a full explanation, but then woke up. Outside the window, the sky was still dark. He pondered it repeatedly, still unable to understand it, and thought that perhaps it would be explained in the future. He wrote down what the old man had told him in the dream.

In a flash another twenty years passed. Wu Xin’s son had already passed the provincial examination. In the year Bingzi, he was serving as an official in Jiankang Prefecture (present-day Nanjing, Jiangsu). Once, while touring with his servant, he went incognito to observe conditions among the people and reached the outskirts. Seeing the common people living in peace and contentment, he felt very pleased.

At noon, his party arrived at a relay station to rest. After tea and a meal, Wu Xin went alone to stroll in Liu’s Garden. Suddenly he noticed a stone stele in the garden, inscribed with poems commemorating a certain worthy ancestor. He read it carefully, and the very first line — “Establishing command at the foremost prefecture of the southeast” — caught his eye. Wu Xin felt it was somehow familiar, then suddenly recalled the dream from twenty years ago, and instantly understood the meaning of the old man’s words in the dream.

Dreams may foretell something. Even if they cannot be immediately reconciled with reality, in the years to come, they may perhaps be revealed.

(Qing dynasty — Wang Sen, Yue Xi Chong Zai)

Reality in a Dream

Most people’s dreams are illusory, ethereal, and absurd, yet the dreams that a certain Mr. Qin had all became vivid reality. From ancient times to the present, such cases are truly rare.

Mr. Song was a native of Yutian in Zhili. He had once passed the jinshi examination, but later committed a crime for which he was exiled to Xinjiang. When Mr. Song first arrived at the place of his exile, one day he went to pay his respects at the Temple of Emperor Guan. From afar he saw a person standing below the steps at the temple gate. This person was about fifty or sixty years of age, with heavy eyebrows and a dense beard. Seeing Mr. Song walking toward the temple gate,

over, he smiled toward Song, as though they had once been acquainted. When Song approached the temple gate, the man waved and called out in greeting: “You are an old friend of mine — could it be that you don’t recognize me?” Song was baffled by this stranger inexplicably greeting him and felt thoroughly perplexed. He looked at the stranger in great embarrassment, not knowing how to respond. Yet the stranger still wore a smile and proceeded to state the commandery, county, clan, and township where Song resided, along with his name, and even his current circumstances. What he said was not only correct but extremely detailed. After hearing all this, Song was somewhat dazed; he was even less able to figure out who the person standing before him really was. The stranger had already perceived what was on Song’s mind, but he continued to ask: “Has Tian Guorong arrived? He certainly should come.” Tian Guorong was Song’s servant, and the man was indeed already on his way to Xinjiang. Hearing this, Song was utterly astonished and could not help stammering: “An immortal? You must be an immortal? Otherwise, how could you know everything?” He then hastily asked the stranger’s name and inquired how he knew so much about him. The stranger replied: “My surname is Qin. The reason I am able to know you is because of a dream. It is a long story — why not come to my lodging and we shall have a little chat?” Song then followed him to Qin’s dwelling.

During their conversation, Song learned that Qin had formerly held office in the capital. In officialdom he had ridden a wave of success, rising rapidly in rank. But the currents of official life are treacherous, and misfortune was quietly descending upon him. One New Year’s Eve, Qin suddenly had a dream. He dreamed that he had been implicated by a rebellious official and arrested. He was tried at the Ministry of Justice and ultimately sentenced to severe punishment — exile to Xinjiang. At the time of departure, family and friends all came to console him, bidding him farewell with tears. Then, guards escorted him on the westward journey. Along the way, he crossed countless mountains and great rivers, traversed vast deserts, and passed through innumerable towns and frontier passes. Sometimes by boat, sometimes by cart, sometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot, he endured every manner of hardship and danger before finally reaching Xinjiang. When Qin awoke from the dream and opened his eyes, it was already daylight. Guests arriving to offer New Year’s greetings came one after another bearing gifts. Though Qin outwardly chatted and socialized with his guests in high spirits, whenever he recalled the dream, his heart felt both bewildered and uneasy. Unexpectedly, on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, Qin once again

continued the dream he had had before. He dreamed that he had already arrived at the place of exile and would live there for the rest of his life. Only then did he faintly sense that there must be a reason for having such dreams. As it turned out, before three days had passed, the unfortunate event finally occurred. Qin was suddenly arrested by guards and taken to the Ministry of Justice for trial, and was ultimately sentenced to exile in Xinjiang. All of this was like a replay of what he had seen in his dream, matching it in every detail without the slightest discrepancy.

In their conversation, Qin also told Song that encountering him at the Guandi Temple was likewise something he had done in accordance with the dream — and indeed, the encounter had truly come to pass. Qin also specifically described what he knew from his dreams about Song’s future circumstances: for example, in such-and-such a year and month a joyful event would come; in such-and-such a year and month misfortune would strike; a certain matter would definitely succeed; a certain matter would definitely end in disastrous failure; in a certain month Song would fall ill, and in a certain month he would recover; in a certain month he would gain something, and in a certain month he would lose something; a certain person should arrive, and a certain person should depart — and so on. Qin also said with great distress to Song that, because his dreams were so frequent and the matters so numerous and tangled, even he himself doubted whether all of the dreams were real. Therefore, Qin deliberately told Song everything he had dreamed so that Song could verify whether each of them would come true. After hearing Qin’s explanation and account, Song committed to associating with Qin, though in his heart he still suspected that Qin might possess some other kind of sorcery. Only after a long period of observation and verification did Song truly acknowledge that Qin’s dreams were indeed remarkably accurate and efficacious — and were not sorcery.

Over time, the dreams grew numerous, events large and small became intertwined and complex, and there were some things Qin could not fully remember. Many events had already come to pass before he recalled them, so he would narrate only the latter half of the matter — and none failed to be fulfilled. Yet Qin also candidly told Song: “The strange thing is, among all the things I dreamed, only one has not come true. I previously dreamed that at this place there should be three cities standing side by side, but now there is only one.” Long afterward, from the thirtieth year of the Qianlong reign onward, the area of military agricultural colonies expanded, many merchants gathered here, and so a new city was built. Then Manchu troops from Shaanxi were transferred here to garrison the frontier, and accordingly yet another Manchu city was constructed. With this, the prediction of three cities also came true.

Song’s mother was very old. At every festival she would come to visit without fail and weep

bitterly. Seeing the old woman so grieved, Qin immediately consoled her: “Do not be sad. I dreamed that your son will soon be released, and will care for you until you reach the age of one hundred.” The old mother took this merely as words of comfort and did not take it seriously. But a few years later, Song was indeed released and returned home, and he cared for his mother until the end of her long life.

As for Qin himself, before being exiled to Xinjiang, he had dreamed that he would live out his days in this place. And indeed, he was never pardoned, and ultimately died at the place of his exile.

(Qing dynasty — Luan Jun, Ershi Lu)

Tian Dun’an

Everyone hopes for days free of disaster and for all matters to turn out as they wish. Yet there happens to be a certain kind of person in this world whose every spoken word invariably runs counter to people’s desires, and may even bring them misfortune.

There was a man named Tian Dun’an, whose real name was Shiheng. The reason he was called Dun’an was that what he yearned for throughout his life always contradicted reality, so he took the two characters “Dun’an” as his courtesy name. Dun’an’s ancestors were quite prominent; his grandfather was extraordinary in martial arts,

He had once been appointed as the Suiyang Guard Commander. His father was outstanding in literary talent and passed the imperial examination as a jinshi in the Xinwei year of the Chongzhen reign, later serving as a magistrate for a certain county in Shaanxi. However, fortune was unfavorable, and by Dun’an’s generation, the Tian family’s estate began to decline. Dun’an lost his father when he was young, and his mother thoroughly disliked him; he did not receive any of the wealth and glory that he should have originally inherited.

Provincial Administration Commissioner Qiu Maohua was a friend of Dun’an’s father and had maintained a deep friendship with him in the past. Seeing that Dun’an had a wife and son but no proper occupation, Qiu Maohua wrote a letter to the Prefect, asking him to issue a decree to summon Dun’an, hoping to give him a minor official post and thereby settle his own mind. Afterward, the Prefect invited him multiple times before finally welcoming Dun’an into his own home. In order not to fail the Provincial Administration Commissioner’s trust, on the day of Dun’an’s arrival, the Prefect personally prepared items for bathing, then changed his clothes and waited respectfully to fulfill his duties as a host. [illegible] Seeing the Prefect receive him so warmly and attentively, Dun’an thought to himself: From now on, I will no longer need to worry about [illegible] food and clothing. But then he immediately had another thought: Could it be that Lord Qiu [illegible] will leave his post as Provincial Administration Commissioner? Not long after, a runner rushed in looking panicked and reported to the Prefect: “Lord Qiu has been demoted and transferred away.” Hearing this news, the Prefect was so shocked that he was speechless. Dun’an was also surprised as to why he had just had such a bizarre thought.

Dun’an had a son who was already over ten years old but could not get into the district school. Because of this, Dun’an had a terrible headache. It so happened that a certain Mr. Li, the son of a man who had passed the imperial examination in the same year as Dun’an’s father, arrived in Henan to take up an official post. Dun’an immediately went to visit him. Seeing that his own father had shared a deep bond with Dun’an’s father, and that Dun’an’s current circumstances were poor, Mr. Li took great care of Dun’an, who had come knocking at his door. When Dun’an haltingly and hesitantly made his request, Mr. Li readily agreed to help his son enter the district school. After returning, Dun’an immediately told the people around him the news. They all offered him their congratulations. At first, Dun’an was very happy, but then he immediately frowned and muttered to himself: “Everything is destined by fate; this matter will certainly meet with an unexpected change.” Within a few days, Mr. Li left Henan due to a promotion, and so the matter of his son entering the district school came to nothing.

One day, the weather was clear and the sun was shining brightly. People went out one after another, but Dun’an said to those who were leaving: “It will definitely rain heavily today.” The people going out naturally did not believe him. Unexpectedly, just after noon, the weather suddenly changed, and for a moment, lightning flashed and thunder rolled as a rainstorm poured down. Those who had not heeded Dun’an’s warning regretted it bitterly. On one occasion, a friend of Dun’an’s was going to a neighboring village to visit a friend. Dun’an told him: “You will only make a trip in vain today.” The friend did not believe it, but when he returned and inquired, it turned out to be true—he had not seen him. A neighbor said he was going to the street to buy something. Dun’an advised him not to go, saying that he definitely would not be able to buy that item. The neighbor ignored the advice and resolutely went; when he looked at the market, the item he wanted to buy had already sold out. Over time, people gradually began to believe that what Dun’an said always ran contrary to people’s wishes.

Matters like this are also reflected in other documents. The Yiyuan (Garden of the Strange) once recorded: There was a person surnamed Liu. If others spoke with him, they would definitely encounter disaster. However, a scholar believed that such a thing was absurd and absolutely impossible to happen. Hearing this, Liu felt that he had been slandered by the scholar, so he specifically went looking for him. The scholar did not take Liu’s arrival seriously, saying: “People in the world are all the same. What is exceptional about you? I spoke with you today, and there is nothing to worry about!” After hearing the scholar’s words, Liu left silently. Not long after, a fire inexplicably broke out in the scholar’s house, and all his money and possessions were burned to ashes by the fire. Since this incident occurred, people called Liu an owl. Usually, if they met him on the road, people would panic and shut their carriage doors or drive away.

The Duyizhi (Tales of Singularities) also recorded: In Huainan, there was a man named Lu Ying. This man had a wealth of knowledge and a strong memory; he could speak with ready fluency and compose essays effortlessly, and his talents were outstanding. However, the strange thing was that if people spent time with him, someone would inevitably suffer a sudden disaster. Once, someone invited Lu Ying to a gathering. Just as the host and guests were joyfully drinking, a servant suddenly reported to the master that a child had accidentally fallen into a well. On another occasion, the host’s young daughter fell into a fire. After Prefect Yuan Bohe took office, hearing that Lu Ying was very talented, he specifically hosted a banquet at his home, wanting to see what kind of person he was. When Lu Ying arrived, he saw that Lu Ying looked no different from an ordinary person, and he began to doubt the various rumors people spread. After a few rounds of drinks, Yuan Bohe jokingly said to the people beside him,

“Has a child fallen into the well?” The guest replied, “No.” Then he asked, “Has a child fallen into the fire?” The answer was still: “No.” Yuan Bohe then said to the guests present: “Being with Lu Ying, actually nothing will happen!” The gathering concluded successfully. That afternoon, a large number of military officers suddenly surrounded the Prefect’s residence, seized Yuan Bohe, and killed him. Looking at it this way, these latter two were much more severe than Tian Dun’an. (Compiled by Yu Yue of the Qing Dynasty)

[General Information] Title = Entering Transformation and Transcendence: Extraordinary Abilities Authors = Ma Bin, Zhao Xichun Pages = 217 SS Number = 10686341 Publication Date = February 1996, 1st Edition

Footnotes

1. The attribution refers to Duan Chengshi’s Tang dynasty collection Youyang Za Zu (酉阳杂俎, Miscellaneous Morsels from Youyang). The character “房” may indicate the section or chapter. ↩

2. Pitch-pot (投壶, touhu) is an ancient Chinese game in which players toss arrows into a vessel. ↩

3. 朝野金载 (Zhao Ye Qian Zai), a collection of anecdotal records by Zhang Zhuo (张鷟) of the Tang dynasty. ↩