Chapter 22: A Mortal's Top Priority

Jiang She calculated the time.

He extended an invitation: "I intend to pay a visit to the God of Mount Lu, and together, we shall confront the deceitful Zhang Zhenmei to settle these lingering trifles."

"Would you be willing to accompany me?"

The Mountain God had helped him greatly these past few days. While that single stick of incense was a factor, it was also the Mountain God’s own nature—a benevolent deity, ever ready to bestow kindness.

It was time for him to help the Mountain God sever these karmic ties.

Li Bai set down the wine flagon, took a sip, and, reeking of spirits, sat in a relaxed half-lotus position.

His mind wandered, unfettered and free.

At this moment, he had returned to that unrestrained, bohemian air of a talented scholar, lofty and detached.

He smiled.

"That would be my pleasure."

The two finished the wine, leaving the cups empty, and departed together.

Not long after Jiang She left, silence settled over the courtyard.

The afternoon sun beat down on the yard once more, carrying the sounds of the neighborhood: a husband and wife quarreling, a small child wailing, an old woman muttering, and a man suddenly erupting into foul language.

In the distance, the faint cries of street vendors drifted by.

"Fresh, hot steamed buns! Steamed buns for three coins apiece—"

A bird perched on a branch, tilted its head, plucked a particularly plump worm from beneath a leaf, and swallowed it in two gulps.

Half an hour later.

Yuan Danqiu brushed the dust from his robes and stumbled in from outside, looking quite disheveled.

He grumbled as he entered: "That surly fellow is no good! How could he raise his hand against me? He nearly hit me! Just because the neighbor’s tree grew over his wall, couldn't he just sweep it away? Was there any need to reach for a tool?"

He called out.

"Master Jiang—"

"Taibai—"

"Eh? Not here?"

He looked around, but finding no one in the rooms and learning from the servant in the south wing that the two had left half an hour ago, Yuan Danqiu muttered to himself for a while. After venting his frustrations and shaking off the lingering shock of nearly being struck by a hoe, he gulped down two bowls of well water to cool his heat.

He noticed a stack of paper spread out on the courtyard table, which seemed to have markings on it.

He walked over and picked it up for a closer look.

Yuan Danqiu paused.

A sheet of blank white paper lay before him.

"I could have sworn I saw something written on it just now? Is my… eyesight failing me?" Yuan Danqiu rubbed his eyes, looked left and right, flipped the paper over, and examined it several times, nearly tearing it apart to inspect it.

There was truly not a single character on it.

He looked up, frowning.

Suddenly, he noticed the gaps in the branches and leaves above the table, with sunlight streaming through the interstices.

In an instant, he understood.

Yuan Danqiu realized, "It must have been the shadows of the trees."

Giving it no further thought, he merely glanced at it, finding the way the tree shadows played upon the paper to possess a unique, simple beauty. He returned to his room, recalled the insights gained from visiting his friend, and pulled out a notebook, half of which was already filled.

Yuan Danqiu flipped through it casually, found a blank page, ground some ink, dipped his brush, and, tucking his sleeves, recited as he wrote.

He said:

"Lead is the White Tiger, mercury is the Green Dragon."

"When Yin and Yang restrain each other, water and fire are perfectly balanced… Alas, lead is the primordial essence of the kidney water, and mercury is the primordial spirit of the heart fire. Thus, they restrain and balance each other…"

"Marvelous!"

"Once I go to the apothecary to buy some ingredients, I shall fire up a furnace using this method. Later, I will let Master Jiang see my method of alchemy, ha-ha-ha…"

After he entered the room.

The branches swayed, casting green shadows. The traces of writing on the vine paper on the table flickered and reappeared once more.

The brush and ink remained on the table, exactly as they had been before Jiang She left.

…

…

The stream at Mount Lument remains the same.

Standing at the foot of the mountain, gazing at the emerald slopes, the sunlight was dazzling. Jiang She recalled that the last time rain fell in Xiangyang was eight days ago—the heavy downpour that had driven him to take shelter in the mountain temple.

He also remembered the porter.

With the weather clear today, he wondered if the man was gathering herbs on the mountain or arguing over weights and measures with clerks in the shops below.

After watching for a while, he called out.

"God of Mount Lument, please appear."

Li Bai observed carefully. Even though he had witnessed it once before at the Lu residence, he still found it miraculous.

"The mountains and rivers are vast, at the very least several miles away."

He asked curiously: "Why can the Mountain God hear Master Jiang’s call? Is there some secret to it that I am unaware of?"

"There is."

Li Bai waited for a long while.

But no further explanation came.

Just as he looked up, intending to ask again, he heard an aged voice.

"Sir."

The old God of Mount Lu had arrived, though no one knew from where.

The old Mountain God stroked his white beard and smiled as he answered Li Bai: "Master Li, have you ever seen a temple warden burning incense before a local earth deity’s shrine?"

"Or have you ever seen monks or Taoists burning incense and praying before the statues of deities in temples and shrines?"

It was a common enough scene; anyone who had visited a temple had surely seen the pious offering incense. Moreover, Li Bai had always admired the Tao, having visited many temples and shrines to pay respects to the immortal masters and priests.

Seeing that he understood, the old Mountain God nodded with a smile.

"The Mountain God can hear human speech, the statues in temples can convey intent, and the divination slips before the shrines are efficacious—this is all the same principle."

He said nonchalantly.

"All laws are interconnected."

Though he did not know why the Master kept this mortal by his side, the old Mountain God was willing to be lenient and provide some answers. Perhaps the Master held a particular fondness for those with talent.

Centuries ago, the hermit Pang Degong, who gathered herbs on Mount Lument, had never possessed such fortune—to have a local Mountain God explain the teachings to him.

In the end, all he attained was a full life of one hundred and twenty years.

The God of Mount Lument asked: "Sir, for what reason have you summoned this small deity?"

Jiang She rose, his robes not stained with even a speck of dust. He gazed at the winding stream, where sunlight danced upon the water like scattered gold. It dazzled the eyes. For a moment, as the water flowed past, two or three fish could be seen, their silhouettes graceful. Because the water was so clear, they appeared to be swimming through the air, flicking their tails.

In the forest behind them, several wild deer could be vaguely glimpsed, their antlers rising above the treetops.

"Jiang wishes to go with the Mountain God to see that Zhang Zhenmei."

Jiang She said, "It is only right that they return the money."

The Mountain God, who seldom dealt with humans, devoted his heart to cultivating in the mountains, occasionally regulating the earth's veins and preaching to the spirits of the wild. He rarely manifested before mortals. In matters of human affairs, he was not even as worldly as the old registrar at the county office.

"That should be done!"

"This small deity nearly forgot; for mortals, this is the most important matter."

While they were speaking.

In a certain courtyard.

Qingyu was crouching on the ground, curled up in front of a chest, counting money.

Copper coins were scattered all around. He counted them one by one and strung them together. This was the money they had obtained through their swindling while following Zhang Zhenmei. It was what they had saved themselves, only spent on small treats or novelties at the market; they never spent it lightly on ordinary days.

The young boy beside him was also counting his own loose change.

The two found their piles growing smaller and smaller. They strung the coins, recorded the amounts, and placed them into the chest.

Their hearts grew increasingly heavy.

The boy counted a dozen coins, but no matter how he tried, the remainder could not form a full string. The chest was already packed, and only the bundles in front of them were empty.

The boy could not help but keep his eyes fixed on the official silver ingots. He reached out to touch the treasury silver, then touched the strings of coins in the chest; his heart ached as if he had been flayed and skinned.

A tear fell onto the ground.

He sniffled, finally unable to hold back his sobs.

When he thought of how he would have to earn money for the rest of his life and preach to the wild beasts in the mountains for ten years, he sobbed uncontrollably.

It was not only the fear and anxiety for his future; he also finally realized that the joy he had felt before was wrong.

A belated realization dawned on him.

He was no longer the ignorant child, devoid of distractions, that he had been before.

Once he thought of this, he felt terrified. The ease and joy of the past were gone, and he could only think of how very, very good it was to have money.