Eu Fui um Deus na Dinastia Tang
"Discípulo Li Bai, desejo seguir o homem imortal para aprender sobre o caminho da imortalidade, de coração sincero e sem arrependimentos!" "Dan Qiu Sheng, Mestre Meng, finalmente encontrei um verdadeiro imortal!" Jiang She atravessou para a era dourada da Dinastia Tang, encontrando o renomado poeta, o filho de uma família aristocrática que recita sutras, e o ministro ambicioso. Também viu o mestre da pintura, eunucos, concubinas e o imperador. De pé no topo das nuvens, observou a história deles de longe. Viajando entre o mundo mortal e o imortal, ele tornou-se um estranho neste mundo. ... "Vestindo arco-íris e cavalgando o vento, os senhores das nuvens chegam em multidão." "O imortal toca minha cabeça, e com o cabelo atado recebo a longevidade." — Extraído de "Seleção de Poesia da Dinastia Tang"
Eu Fui um Deus na Dinastia Tang
Torrential rain poured down, washing the trees on the mountain into a deeper green. The curtain of rain fell like woven threads, while Lumen Mountain, shrouded in mist, seemed more ethereal and immortal than ever.
This was the place where Pang Degong had lived in seclusion during the Jin dynasty. He had brought his wife and children here to gather herbs and, after that, never returned to the world. Because a virtuous man had chosen this place for retreat, countless scholars and poets had since been drawn to it. Over the centuries, it had gathered a measure of spiritual aura that set it apart from the rest of Xiang Prefecture.
Raindrops fell from the leaves above, landing upon people without wetting their clothes.
Jiang She stood on the mountain path, gazing out at the emerald hills. The rain was dense, and misty clouds hung at the mountain’s waist, the whiteness of rain merging with the sky so that heaven and earth seemed indistinguishable.
This was the tenth year since Jiang She had crossed into this world.
Was it real?
Or merely a dream?
Surrounded by the rain-soaked green, a deep sense of solitude welled up within him.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. As if he had already sensed it, Jiang She stepped aside to let a porter pass.
The man carried a heavy bamboo basket, a straw hat shielding his head, rain trickling ceaselessly down.
The porter, walking ahead, called out through the rain, “The rain’s coming down so hard, young master. Would you care to join me and take shelter? There’s a temple up ahead—keep t
