Only then did they come back to themselves from the dream. They remembered that immortal sage, and the Mountain God at his side—every gesture sacred and extraordinary, the rightful master of the mountains, rivers, and waters of this land.
Ordinary people sought immortality and the Way their whole lives.
Yet few ever met an immortal face-to-face.
Much less had the fortune they did.
Reminded by these words, everyone finally realized it. In an instant, all eyes turned toward the table. Wang Anlan scrambled to his feet and brushed aside the servant's hand reaching to support him as he went over.
He bowed, then bowed again and saluted.
"Thank you, immortal..."
"There's no need," Jiang She said.
"I should thank you. I must thank the im—" He suddenly stopped. His throat seemed to clench, and he could no longer speak. No matter what, he couldn't get the word "immortal" out.
Wang Er's back broke out in a cold sweat.
He suddenly realized that the man before him was different from the strange people who roamed the martial world.
This was a true immortal.
If an immortal disliked something, then he truly disliked it.
This one clearly disliked being called an "immortal." It was a curious quirk, and best not to call him that.
"Ahem... May I ask how I should address you, esteemed senior?" A few moments later, his voice finally returned. Wang Anlan let out a long breath, his tone growing ever more respectful.
"I'm Jiang She. Call me by my name, or simply 'sir.'"
"Sir Jiang!"
Jiang She smiled.
He had meant to tell him not to be so stiff and reverent. If people kept treating him with such solemn respect, would they next build him a shrine and enshrine him there? If he spent every day being knelt to and worshipped, what fun would that be?
A clay statue could take it. He was a living man; he couldn't.
But the other man's temples were already damp with sweat. He was terribly nervous.
So Jiang She made no further attempt to correct him.
"There's no need to thank me."
Seeing the awe and longing in everyone's eyes—and the three swindlers shrinking like quails—he smiled and let his gaze pass over them.
Jiang She asked with a smile, "What did you all gain from today?"
"We would be glad to hear what you found."
Meeting his gaze, everyone thought of what they had experienced in the dream.
Some had enjoyed wealth and prestige; some had served as officials, protecting a region; some had spent forty years tending a Daoist temple and practicing the Way; some had run shops in the marketplace; and some had found a good match.
Meng Haoran and Yuan Danqiu had met him earlier, brought together by a spring rain on the mountain.
They were more familiar with each other.
Yuan Danqiu blurted out, "I'll never be an official again."
In that Ancient Locust Kingdom, he had served as an official for forty years, managing farming and silkworm cultivation and urging people to sow grain. He had worked on his abacus for forty years until his head throbbed, and had never even found the time to spend the money people offered him in tribute.
In the end, he had been struck by a stray arrow and died with its feathers still lodged in him.
Jiang She couldn't help smiling.
Meng Haoran sat down on the ground and pondered for a long while.
After a long sigh, he asked, "Everything in the Ancient Locust Kingdom felt so real. Forty years as an official, and yet it was all an illusion... Jiang, Young Master Jiang, there's something I'd like to ask."
"Does the Ancient Locust Kingdom truly exist in this world?"
Jiang She answered.
"It does."
Everyone's expressions changed in shock.
"Is that true?" County Magistrate Cheng Zhili asked from the side, without thinking.
Jiang She smiled.
The Lu Family had planted several locust trees. There were two in front of the house, and another in Lu the Eldest's courtyard. He didn't know if there were any elsewhere. The trees had stood for many years. Their trunks and roots had grown somewhat hollow, and the wood looked dry, yet their branches remained lush.
He led everyone over to look at the tree.
Beneath it, countless insects and ants scurried across the clods of earth, rustling as they went.
"This is the Ancient Locust Kingdom."
So said the traveler who had walked the world for ten years without his appearance changing.
Yuan Danqiu and the young apprentice craned their necks to look. They saw only many insects and ants crawling back and forth over the earth, busy and laboring. Everyone looked around, then stared at the tree, but none could see anything unusual about the locust tree in Lu the Eldest's courtyard.
"That's right."
"Locust tree, Ancient Locust Kingdom..." Physician Luo repeated the words, murmuring to himself.
He seemed to have understood something.
Wang Erlang, Wang Anlan, stared at the tree with wide eyes. Parts of the locust tree had been hollowed out by borers, exposing the roots in a peculiar shape.
"Could this be..."
"Was the life we just lived spent in the kingdom of insects and ants beneath this tree?" The guests forgot their awe of the immortal and blurted out the question.
Meng Haoran studied it for a long time, still finding it unbelievable.
"Marvelous."
"Is this not... Zhuang Zhou's dream of being a butterfly?"
Li Bai, too, peered into the ants' nest. The insects scurried busily over the ground. Dozens of ants were carrying crumbs from the meal they had just eaten, enjoying the fruits of a bountiful harvest.
He had never imagined that the Ancient Locust Kingdom where he had spent seven days—
was the ants' nest beneath this tree.
Watching the ants carry away the crumbs, he fell into thought, then sighed.
"Ants scurry and toil. Are the people of this busy world any different?"
Everyone looked over the place where they had spent forty years, their hearts full of tangled emotions.
Scholar Lu looked at the tree that had grown in his home for who knew how many years. Beneath it, he had learned to walk; beneath it, he had pored over his books. For thirty years, the locust tree had watched him babble his first words and take a bride. It had seen him fail the examinations and sell off his family's property.
His heart was a jumble of feelings, and he could not say what he felt.
Only after everyone had had a curious look—including the county magistrate's attendants and constables—did Jiang She turn his attention to the three who had been swindling people.
He studied them.
After a few moments, he said, "Zhang Zhenmei, you three, come here."
The county magistrate turned and quietly asked his brother-in-law. Only then did he learn that Zhang Zhenmei, whom the esteemed sage had singled out, was the Daoist master Lu the Eldest had been talking about all the time—the one he'd supposedly met in the county. He was a swindler who had formed a traveling troupe with two youngsters and already conned six or seven households out of quite a bit of money.
Zhang Zhenmei was ill at ease. He hadn't had time to change his appearance and was still dressed as an old Daoist.
He walked over in a trembling, fearful manner and greeted Jiang She in a low, faltering voice.
"Sir Jiang."
Jiang She sat at the table, raised his hand, and brewed tea for himself. He also poured a cup for Old Deer Mountain God and Li Bai. The water boiled, rolling the tea leaves around. He didn't add salt or spices, as was fashionable these days. Jiang She took a sip, washing away the strange taste left by the tea that had been steeping for seven days, and relaxed his brow.
He asked unhurriedly, "What do you think..."
"You swindled five households and took several thousand in wealth."
"How should you repay them?"
Though the true immortal asked in a calm, leisurely voice,
Zhang Zhenmei and the two young apprentices behind him trembled. In the late spring of April, they felt as if they had fallen into an icy abyss.
"I..."
He stammered for a long time, unable to form a sentence.
If he made light of it, he feared the immortal before him would be angered. If he spoke too harshly, he worried about what lay ahead. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Zhang Zhenmei prostrated himself on the ground and said nothing for a long while.
In the end, he bowed low to the ground.
"I... know what I've done wrong. I should be punished. I beg you, esteemed master, to pass judgment."
With those words, some of the dignity he had shown when Scholar Lu revered him as a master returned.
Jiang She lifted his teacup.
He studied the "old man" prostrated on the ground, then looked at the two young apprentices behind him. He didn't first tell them what punishment he would impose, nor did he discuss what should be done with the money.
Instead, he asked them something else.
"You three practiced the Way in the Ancient Locust Kingdom for forty years. What did you gain?"
After waiting a dozen or so moments,
the Daoist apprentice Wang Shan, who was usually quick-tongued, bravely replied, "This was the first time I'd ever practiced the Way in a temple. I learned about the Way from Master and Senior Brother, and I found it interesting."
Jiang She looked at the other one.
The other apprentice was named Song Baike, with the Daoist name Qingyu. He was a year older.
He summoned his courage. "I felt the same way."
Jiang She lifted his teacup and drank twice, getting a mouthful of tea leaves. But since he was seated before everyone, he could only swallow them along with the tea.
He asked calmly,
"Did you find it more interesting to close the temple doors and collect offerings, or to study the Way?"
With the immortal before them, the two apprentices didn't dare argue as sharply as before or act out of line.
"Just speak honestly."
The two mumbled and stammered for a long while, worried the immortal could see right through their thoughts. At last, they spoke in very small voices.
"...Both were quite interesting."
Before you continue