Zhuang Zhou Dreams of Butterflies

They finally snapped out of their dreamlike state, recalling that transcendent immortal and the mountain god beside him—every gesture divine and extraordinary, also a rightful master of the region's mountains and waters.

Ordinary folk sought immortals and the Way their whole lives.

Rarely did they meet an immortal face-to-face.

Let alone have such karmic fortune as this.

Reminded by those words, the crowd suddenly realized this, and their gazes all turned toward the table. Wang Anlan scrambled to his feet, brushing aside the servant who tried to steady him as he walked over.

He bowed deeply, then clasped his hands and saluted again.

"Many thanks, Immortal..."

"No need for that," Jiang She said.

"It must be so. I must thank the Imm..." His words suddenly caught, his throat tightening as if squeezed, unable to speak. The words "Immortal" simply would not come out.

Wang Er's back broke out in sweat.

He suddenly realized that the man before him was different from the eccentric wanderers of the martial world.

This was a true immortal.

If an immortal disliked something, then he truly disliked it.

This one clearly disliked being called "Immortal"—a bit of a quirk—so it was best not to say it.

"Cough... How should I address the senior master?" After a few breaths, his throat finally loosened enough to speak. Wang Anlan let out a long sigh, his tone growing more reverent.

"I am Jiang She. Call me by name, or simply 'Master.'"

"Master Jiang!"

Jiang She smiled.

He had wanted to tell the man not to be so stiff and awestruck, to stop lifting him up with such reverence—should they set up a shrine and offer worship next? Accepting kneeling bows and prostrations all day, what fun was there in that?

A clay statue could take it, but he, a living man, could not.

But seeing the other man's forehead slightly damp with sweat, clearly nervous.

Jiang She did not correct him further.

"No need for thanks."

Seeing the awe and reverence in the eyes of the crowd in the courtyard, and the three swindlers shrinking like quails, he smiled, his gaze sweeping past them.

Jiang She asked with a smile, "What have you all gained today?"

"I would hear your fine harvests."

The crowd met his gaze and recalled their experiences in the dream.

Some had wealth, some had glory, some had become officials protecting a region, some had guarded a temple for forty years serving the Way, some had done market trade, some had found a good match.

Meng Haoran and Yuan Danqiu had met him before, bound by a spring rain on the mountain.

They were more familiar with him.

Yuan Danqiu blurted out, "This poor priest will never be an official again."

In that Ancient Locust Kingdom, he had been an official for forty years, managing farming and sericulture, urging the planting of grain, playing the abacus for forty years until his head ached, with no time to spend the bribes from his subordinates.

In the end, he was struck by a stray arrow and died with the fletching buried in him.

Jiang She couldn't help but smile.

Meng Haoran sat on the ground, pondering for a long time.

He sighed deeply and asked, "The people and affairs of the Ancient Locust Kingdom felt as real as life itself—forty years as an official, all a dream... Jiang, Young Master Jiang, This Humble One wishes to ask one thing."

"Does the Ancient Locust Kingdom truly exist?"

Jiang She replied.

"It does."

The crowd was startled by this.

"Truly?" County Magistrate Cheng Zhili asked from the side, almost involuntarily.

Jiang She smiled.

The Lu family had planted several locust trees—two in front of the house, and one in Lu the Eldest's courtyard, though he didn't know if there were more elsewhere. Over the years, these trees had lived long, some already hollowed out, their roots and trunks showing signs of dryness, yet still lush with branches and leaves.

He led the crowd to look at the trees.

Beneath the trees were many ants and insects, scurrying through the soil in a rustling bustle.

"This is the Ancient Locust Kingdom."

The traveler who had walked the world for ten years without his face aging said so.

Yuan Danqiu and his medicine boy craned their necks to look, seeing only many ants and insects on the ground, crawling about, busy and toiling. The crowd glanced around, then stared at the tree, but could not see what made the locust tree in Lu the Eldest's courtyard any different.

"That's right."

"Locust tree, Ancient Locust Kingdom." Physician Luo repeated to himself, murmuring under his breath.

As if realizing something.

Wang Er, Wang Anlan, stared wide-eyed at the tree. The locust tree's hollowed interior exposed its roots, giving it a strange appearance.

"Could this be..."

"Were we just now beneath this tree, in the kingdom of insects, living out a lifetime?" The guests, disregarding their awe of the immortal, pressed on with questions.

Meng Haoran studied it for a long time, still finding it hard to believe.

"Marvelous."

"Is this not... Zhuangzi's dream of the butterfly?"

Li Bai also looked at the ant hole. Ants scurried busily across the ground; dozens of them together carried the crumbs from their meal, enjoying the harvest.

He had never imagined that the Ancient Locust Kingdom, where he had spent seven days, was nothing more than this ant nest beneath the tree.

Watching the insects hauling bits of cake, he sank into thought and let out a long sigh.

"Ants toiling away—are they not just like the bustling masses of the world?"

Everyone took turns examining the place where they had lived through forty years, a hundred emotions churning in their hearts.

Scholar Lu looked at the tree that had grown on his land for who knows how many years. He had learned to walk beneath it, had held his books and studied beneath it. For thirty years, this locust tree had seen him babble his first words, seen him welcome his bride, seen him fail the imperial exams, and seen him sell off his family property.

His heart was a tangled mess of flavors, unable to name the taste.

After everyone—even the county magistrate's attendants and runners—had taken their curious look, Jiang She turned his gaze to the three swindlers.

He studied them.

After a few breaths, he said, "Zhang Zhenmei, come here."

The magistrate turned his head and quietly asked his cousin's husband, learning that this Zhang Zhenmei, valued by the exalted one, was the very "immortal master" that Lu the Eldest had been going on about. A swindler, leading two youngsters as a traveling con team, had already tricked six or seven households and extorted quite a sum.

Zhang Zhenmei's heart trembled. He hadn't had time to change his clothes, still dressed as the old Daoist.

He stepped forward fearfully, his voice stammering, and called out softly.

"Mr. Jiang."

Jiang She sat at the table, raised his hand to brew tea, and also handed a cup to the Old Deer Mountain God and Li Bai. The water boiled, rolling the tea grounds. He didn't add salt or spices as was fashionable these days. Jiang She took a sip, washing away the strange taste of tea that had steeped for seven days, and relaxed his brow.

He asked unhurriedly, "What do you think..."

"You've swindled five households, gaining thousands in wealth."

"How should you repay this?"

With a true immortal before them, though his voice was calm and leisurely, Zhang Zhenmei and the two lads behind him trembled slightly, as if plunged into an icy pit in this late spring of April.

"I..."

He stammered for a long time, unable to form a sentence.

Speak lightly, and he feared the immortal before him would be angered; speak heavily, and he worried for his own future. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Zhang Zhenmei prostrated himself on the ground, unable to speak for a long time.

Finally, he bowed his head to the ground.

"I... know my wrongs. I should accept punishment. I beg the exalted one to mete out a penalty."

As these words left his mouth, a trace of the backbone he had shown when Scholar Lu treated him as a master returned.

Jiang She lifted his tea cup.

He studied the "old man" prostrate on the ground, then looked at the two young lads behind him. He did not first pronounce their punishment, nor did he discuss how to handle the money.

Instead, he asked a question.

"You three cultivated the Dao in the Ancient Locust Kingdom for forty years. What did you gain?"

After a dozen breaths, The young Daoist Wang Shan, always sharp-tongued, boldly answered: "This one has never cultivated in a temple before. Learning principles with my master and senior brother was interesting."

Jiang She looked at the other.

The other young Daoist, named Song Baike, with the Dao name "Qingyu," was a year older.

He mustered his courage: "This one thinks the same."

Jiang She lifted his tea cup, took two sips, and got a mouthful of tea leaves. But since he was seated before others, he had no choice but to swallow them down.

He asked leisurely.

"Is closing the door to collect incense money more interesting, or is learning the Dao more interesting?"

With an immortal before them, the two young Daoists dared not argue sharply as before, dared not act rashly.

"Just speak your true thoughts."

The two stammered for a long while, hesitating, worried that the immortal could see through their hearts, and finally said in very small voices.

"...Both are very interesting."