The rain came down in torrents, soaking the mountain trees an even deeper green. Sheets of rain wove through the air, and Lumen Mountain seemed all the more suffused with immortal aura.
This was where Pang Degong had lived in seclusion during the Han dynasty, gathering herbs on Lumen Mountain with his wife and children.
Afterward, he never returned.
The presence of a worthy recluse had drawn many scholars and men of letters. Over the centuries, compared with the rest of Xiang Prefecture, the mountain had taken on an extra trace of spiritual energy.
Rain slipped through the gaps between the mountain leaves and fell on people, yet left their clothes dry.
Jiang She stood on the mountain path, gazing at the verdant slopes. The rain fell thick and fast, coiling into a bank of rain clouds halfway up the mountain. The white curtain of rain joined with the sky, making it impossible to tell where the heavens ended and the mortal world began.
This was Jiang She's tenth year since crossing over.
Was it real?
Or a dream?
The mountains were veiled in rain and emerald green, and a sense of loneliness welled up within him.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. As if he had sensed them long ago, Jiang She stepped aside to let the porter pass.
A heavy bamboo basket was strapped to the man's back. A straw hat covered his head, and rain kept dripping from it.
The porter walked ahead, calling through the rain:
"The rain's coming down so hard, young sir. Would you like to come shelter with me? There's a temple up ahead. If you keep getting soaked like this, you'll catch a chill!"
Jiang She looked at the man's back, bent beneath the weight of the herbs.
"Very well."
The porter wiped the rain from his face and walked on, with the young gentleman following behind him.
"Are you going up the mountain to look for Master Pang?"
Jiang She smiled. "I am. How did you know?"
"People come looking now and then. I hear Master Pang's been dead for many years. What are you all looking for?" the porter asked curiously.
"I'm not sure what the others are looking for."
Jiang She said, "I'm just curious whether the old books are telling the truth about Master Pang meeting an immortal. You're a local. Have you ever heard the story?"
"How would we know about immortals?"
The porter trudged along the mountain path with his heavy basket. After walking in the rain for so long, he was a little short of breath. "All we know is that there are plenty of herbs on this mountain we can sell for money."
Jiang She noticed.
"Let me hold an umbrella for you."
He lifted the hand inside his sleeve slightly. The rope biting tightly into the porter's back loosened a little.
Jiang She reached out and held up the umbrella.
"You've got an umbrella. Why aren't you using it yourself?" The porter found it odd. He had struck up a conversation because he'd seen Jiang She walking in the rain without any rain gear. With a simple grin, he said, "With you holding it over me, I feel a lot lighter."
Jiang She asked with a smile:
"Is this polygonatum?"
The porter kept walking ahead. "It is. The rain's been so heavy, I only found one piece. Luckily, I also picked some honeysuckle, and that'll sell too. Once the weather clears, it'll start getting hot. The apothecary pays well for honeysuckle. They say people brew it as tea to beat the heat."
As he spoke, something suddenly struck him as strange.
Just how big was this young gentleman's umbrella? They were walking one behind the other, and he was only holding it slightly over the porter to shield him from the rain. So why did it seem as though not a single raindrop was reaching him?
"Clever thinking," Jiang She praised. "Even if you don't dig up any polygonatum, you can still sell the honeysuckle. It means your household will have some income."
It was just a way for country folk to make a little extra money, but the porter was pleased by the praise and explained at length. Before long, he was telling Jiang She where to find other herbs on the mountain, how much they could fetch at the shops below, and how crookedly the apothecary's clerk weighed things. By the time they reached the temple, the porter suddenly realized how much he had said and felt a pang of regret.
He shouldn't have shared so many ways to make money.
He could only reassure himself that the young gentleman looked refined and distinguished, and probably wouldn't try to steal his mountain work.
"We're here. Ah... there are other people over there. Let's ask them for some firewood."
Jiang She nodded. He noticed the porter's faint regret but pretended not to see it. He went along with him and found a place to sit, set down his bundle, and brushed the rain off the porter's basket as well.
His palm passed over it. Not only did the basket dry, but every drop of rain vanished from the herbs inside, too. The soaked honeysuckle sprang upright, fresh as if it had just been picked.
The apothecary would pay a much better price when it weighed the herbs this way.
There was another group in the temple. They had already lit a fire and were accompanied by servants. Their clothes were rich and fine, and three of them sat laughing and drinking.
One wore a Daoist robe and looked quite old; another was a vigorous young man in white, in his twenties; the third wore indigo and looked more reserved, perhaps in his thirties.
The three men spoke quietly, but Jiang She could hear them clearly.
"Taibai, this man wants to borrow some fire. Give him some of our wood."
The Daoist nudged the white-robed man beside him. The young man had no choice but to set down his wine cup and pick out a small basket of firewood.
"Will this be enough?"
"That's plenty, plenty." The porter felt a little nervous speaking to such well-to-do men.
"The rain's coming down so hard. What brings you and your master here?" asked the man they called "Taibai."
"He's not my master. We're traveling the same way. That gentleman just held an umbrella for me. He's looking for immortals. He wants to know whether Master Pang really met one."
At that, "Taibai" perked up and exchanged a glance with the other two.
"You're looking for immortals, too?"
From the sound of it... The porter asked, "Are you gentlemen here for the same reason?"
"What a coincidence."
The white-robed man looked over at Jiang She, who was sitting some distance away, but couldn't make out much. He poked the Daoist beside him and asked him to pass over the wine pot, then picked up some cups, plates, and snacks to go over.
"I'm Li Bai, courtesy name Taibai, from Longxi. Are you also looking for immortals?"
Jiang She looked up. The rain roared outside, the mountains behind them a wild mass of green. Daylight filtered beneath the eaves and illuminated the mountain temple. Two people stood before him: a servant carrying wine and food, and a vigorous young man in white, with a long face, brows that swept back into his temples, and bright, lively eyes.
So this was Li Bai.
In the ten years since arriving in the Tang dynasty, Jiang She was meeting the poet, famed for thousands of years to come, for the first time.
Li Bai was in his twenties, full of youthful vigor. Xuanzong had not yet summoned him, and he had not yet taken part in a rebellion.
He had been traveling with friends in search of immortals and the Dao when one day, caught in heavy rain, he had ducked into a mountain temple for shelter.
There, he had met Jiang She, who was also visiting famous mountains, hoping to confirm the traces of an immortal from the Jin dynasty.
So he was already living inside history, become an ancient himself.
With a twinge of regret, Jiang She rose and smiled faintly.
"I'm looking for immortals, too. I heard Master Pang met one on Lumen Mountain, so I wanted to see whether it was true. The rain is so heavy; forgive me for intruding."
"I'm Jiang She. You've come bearing wine. Might I have a cup?"
"Of course."
Li Bai smiled. "We're looking for immortals, too. The Daoist drinking over there is Yuan Danqiu, who holds a Shangqing Dharma Certificate. The other man is Meng Haoran. They're both my friends."
"Since we share an interest, why not drink together?"
Li Bai invited Jiang She and the porter over to drink by the fire.
He studied the young man before him. Seated at ease in the ruined temple, he was composed and carried himself with uncommon bearing—not like an ordinary person at all. The five of them sat together. Li Bai furrowed his brow, finally noticing that something was a little off.
"The rain outside is so heavy. How come not a drop has touched your clothes?"
This story begins in April, 725. It takes place in the Tang dynasty and does not alter the broad course of history. It tells of folk customs, demons and ghosts, the lives of ordinary people, and the search for immortality; it features some Tang figures I like, including poets, a sage of painting, aristocratic clans, imperial consorts, and powerful ministers...
The overall style leans toward everyday life, offering a glimpse of life in the Tang dynasty. Some inspiration comes from Miscellaneous Morsels from Youyang and Record of Mysterious Anomalies.
Writing a book isn't easy. Please add it to your collection, leave a comment, and keep following along! _(:_"∠)_
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