Wang Wei Seeks Immortality

Lu Xiang was startled.

"Did you come because of the letter?"

Wang Wei sat across from him, lowering his head to drink wine and quench his thirst, the dust of travel still clinging to his clothes. He had rushed all this way, and it was actually for the letter Lu Xiang had written.

He nodded.

"Were there really over a dozen people who shared a dream, forty years vivid and lifelike within it?"

Lu Xiang then recounted the story of Master Meng's visit to the Lu Family to offer birthday congratulations once more. He had told it so many times it was worn smooth in his mind—lately, anyone who brought up the matter made him repeat it.

When he finished.

Lu Xiang took the ice cream handed over by a servant.

Eating it as he spoke, he added one more line.

"You came too late."

Wang Wei looked up.

Lu Xiang said, "Brother Haoran told me today that that immortal, along with Taibai and Yuan Danqiu, have all vanished without a trace."

A rare hesitation flickered across Wang Wei's face.

"Is this...?"

"Brother Haoran asked the neighbors and learned they had already left. A few days ago, they spent an entire afternoon loading their carriage, and they didn't even grant an audience to the Xiang Prefecture Governor or the Xiangyang County Magistrate."

Lu Xiang sighed as he spoke.

"You've come for nothing."

Wang Wei pressed on: "Do you know where they went?"

"Brother Haoran didn't mention it. I'll ask tomorrow."

Only then did Wang Wei's brow relax.

Seeing this, Lu Xiang burst into laughter.

"Mojie, oh Mojie, it's rare to see you like this. I've written to you many times inviting you to Xiangyang, and you never came. But the moment I mentioned an immortal in a letter, you arrived this quickly."

"In my letter, I only told you about the dream-making incident, but I hadn't yet told you the rest."

"There's more?"

Lu Xiang lifted his chin. One of them was a branch of the Fanyang Lu Clan, the other from the Hedong Wang Clan—both were descendants of famous houses and longtime friends. Leaning against the armrest, Lu Xiang ate his ice cream while recounting tales of immortals and wonders for him.

"Stories of immortals have been plentiful in Xiangyang lately."

"First, there was a hunter who encountered an immortal. In the mountains, he heard the sounds of a ghostly and divine banquet at night. When he woke, he told the tale to his village, and it spread through all of Xiangzhou—even I caught wind of it."

Wang Wei leaned forward slightly.

"What did it say?"

Lu Xiang took his time, teasing his eager friend with a sly look, savoring the moment before speaking. "There was a fierce tiger roaring, gibbons weeping, spirits and gods attending a feast, and an immortal suppressing a host of demons."

"He preached the Way to them, showed them the path."

"They drank heavily into a stupor, not stopping until dawn broke."

"As for this matter, if you ever meet Li Bai in the future, he should know it better. When that hunter from Chen Family Village encountered the immortal, there was a white-robed attendant by the immortal's side—that was him."

"Li Bai?"

Lu Xiang nodded. "'All the sages and worthies of old are dead and gone; only the drinkers leave their names behind'—that's from his poem."

"He's a poet?"

Lu Xiang affirmed, praising, "Taibai's poetic talent—discussing ghosts and gods as if casually chatting with old friends—even I am awed by it, and envy stirs in my heart."

"Roaming with an immortal—what a joyous affair."

With that, he had a servant fetch a poetry collection from the study and pointed out a newly added poem for Wang Wei to see.

Wang Wei examined it closely. This poem was newly written; he hadn't seen it when he left Luoyang.

The poem described the poet dreaming of visiting the Banquet of Ghosts and Gods. It began by stating that it was the day of a deity's enlightenment, and he had been invited to attend.

The poem depicted a half-human, half-serpent python—half a beauty, half a beast—a Blue Bird that once served as Queen Mother of the West's messenger, a tiger studying the Way, and a gibbon weeping over decades without progress in cultivation, as human as anyone, with all seven emotions and six desires, lamenting the difficulty of seeking the Way.

There was an immortal expounding the Dharma, a tiger awakening to the Way.

There was fine wine, there were delicacies.

The poet said, what are fame and fortune, after all? The tombs of Emperor Wen of Han and Emperor Wu of Han are now nothing but desolate withered grass, a thousand autumns of solitude.

Only those who feast together tonight can attain immortality and leave their names behind.

Wang Wei was silent for a long time.

Lu Xiang pointed at it and asked with a smile, "What do you think?"

After a long while.

Wang Wei said, "It's nothing special."

He continued:

"But among them, there is writing on immortals."

"Becoming an immortal and roaming freely, carrying one's spirit to ascend upon the clouds, veiling the floating clouds to journey upward."

"Riding the breath of clouds, driving flying dragons, wandering beyond the four seas. Traversing the four wastelands, circling the six deserts."

"There is also something gained."

Lu Xiang smiled, leaning against the armrest, his posture lazy, holding a bowl of iced cream in one hand as he asked him: "Aren't you a Buddhist?"

Wang Wei looked at him, gathering his sleeves, his bearing refined and proper.

"Do not tease me so. Both Buddhism and Daoism have their benefits; one takes their strengths to supplement one's own shortcomings."

The next day, Meng Haoran received that letter and read it through. Just then, Lu Xiang was asking about Li Bai.

He said: "They are heading to Luoyang."

Lu Xiang could not help but smile.

Meng Haoran found him strange and asked: "What happened?"

Lu Xiang shook his head, only saying: "I sigh that some people rush about on a journey, only to find they have just missed each other. That too is the working of fate."

Wang Mojie had hurried from Luoyang for the sake of the immortal, never expecting that the immortal was about to go to Luoyang.

The two had just missed each other.

After returning, he told this to Wang Wei.

Wang Wei turned and began to pack his bags.

Lu Xiang was startled: "Where are you going?"

The white-robed scholar stood in the hall, his sleeves fluttering, his bearing handsome and outstanding, unmatched in grace. All the servants in the room secretly gazed at him, taking him for a divine being.

"I am returning to Luoyang."

Wang Wei asked again: "Did the immortal accept Li Bai as a disciple?"

Lu Xiang shook his head.

"That I have not heard."

That very night, Wang Wei departed.

Lu Xiang told this matter to Meng Haoran, a note of reproach in his words:

"Why must he be in such haste? Could he not even rest? The Xiang Prefecture Governor heard that a son of the Wang Family had arrived and sent someone to ask if he would attend a banquet, yet he refused them all."

"Before the city gates closed, he had already left. The night road is not so easy to travel."

Meng Haoran set down his chopsticks.

"Was the one you spoke of the day before yesterday Wang Wei, Wang Mojie?"

"He came to Xiangyang, hoping to meet the immortal?"

"Exactly." Lu Xiang, who had always been on good terms with Meng Haoran, whispered to him, "He was previously exiled to Ji Prefecture. This year, he resigned from his post and has been socializing in Luoyang, visiting renowned scholars."

"Every time he writes to me, his words are free and unrestrained, transcendent and carefree, and his poetic talent is excellent."

"I thought he had seen through things, but now this..."

Unlike Lu Xiang, Meng Haoran was a firsthand witness to the immortal affair.

He understood even more of its mystery.

"Matters of immortals and gods are not so easily spoken of..." Meng Haoran said. "It is only that I did not know Taibai and the others had left. Had I known at the time, I would have knelt at their door."

"I would have begged to journey with them as well."

Lu Xiang thought this was also true.

"I wonder if Mojie will meet the immortal. Alas, it is too late!"

Another rain fell.

The eyes were filled with green. Now that the rain had stopped, the rainwater had washed the mountain scenery even clearer and more translucent, carrying a spiritual quality.

The Tang Dynasty's territory was vast, stretching from the Anxi Protectorate and Beiting Protectorate to the Monan region, east to the Bohai Kingdom, and west to Nanzhao, a third larger than in a previous life.

The population numbered about forty million.

On the official road of Ru Prefecture, there were occasionally a few carriages and horses, and scattered commoners pulling plank carts. It was very empty.

Jiang She and the others sat under a tree to rest.

The carriage had traveled for eight or nine days, arriving at a village on the edge of Ru Prefecture. They were already very close to Luoyang; another two or three days' travel would bring them there.

Along the way, they had heard many stories, but here they saw that the custom of worship was flourishing, so they stopped to observe the situation. They borrowed a place, took out steamed buns, opened a jar of pickled vegetables and cured meat they had bought, and each drank a jug of wine.

That alone was enough to soothe the dust and weariness of the road.

The village children, curious, gathered around, not knowing who these people were. Seeing that their clothes and ornaments differed from the villagers', they watched timidly from a distance, torn between curiosity and fear.

The aroma drifting through the air made them swallow their saliva.

As they watched, a tall carriage came rolling down the official road and stopped before the crowd.

A white-robed scholar parted the curtain and stepped down from the carriage.

Seeing people making a fire, resting, and eating here, he alighted, clasped his hands in a formal salute, and asked:

"Good sir, have you heard of any immortal affairs in these parts?"