Chapter 3: Willing to Follow the Immortal to Seek the Path
Jiang She was climbing the mountain together with Li Bai.
Along the mountain path stretched vast bamboo groves, their leaves even more vibrant after a recent heavy rain, the air fresh and pure. Deer Gate Mountain was not very tall—only about a hundred or two hundred zhang—and although the path wound through the forest, it was not far.
Occasionally, one or two deer would appear, hidden among the trees. They showed no fear upon seeing the two men.
Jiang She withdrew his gaze.
Li Bai carried a sword on his back, dressed in white robes, looking every bit the wandering swordsman.
He was well-read and quick to remember: “It is said that during the Later Han, Emperor Guangwu toured Xiangzhou and dreamt of the mountain spirit, which appeared as two elk. He then ordered the Marquis of Xiangyang to establish a shrine on the mountain, named the Deer Gate Temple.”
“These deer have lived among the woods so long that they have acquired a certain spiritual aura, and thus are unafraid of people.”
“Have you heard of the mountain spirit of Deer Gate Mountain? Whether it truly was those two elk, no one knows.”
The Marquis of Xiangyang was named Xi Yu. He and Emperor Liu Xiu of the Han Dynasty both dreamt of the mountain spirit, which led to his ennoblement. In the mortal world, the Marquis retired from power, allowing this place of natural beauty to grow even more mysterious.
It was for this reason that the poet Meng Haoran chose to live in seclusion here on Deer Gate Mountain, becoming friends with Li Bai, who was then traveling everywhere.
As they neared the summit, Li Bai studied his companion closely.
This man, about his age, carried himself with an easy grace and calm breath—a rare quality. Li Bai noticed the fine drizzle still clinging to them both.
His own white robes were damp and heavy.
But Jiang She’s clothing remained dry.
How did the rain fail to wet his clothes?
Jiang She was naturally aware of Li Bai’s discerning gaze.
Suddenly moved, a playful thought crossed his mind, and he asked:
“Sir, you’ve been probing for some time—is it the affairs of immortals and spirits you wish to inquire about?”
Li Bai readily admitted it and asked: “I see not a drop of rain on your clothes. Is this some Taoist technique? I have not heard of it before.”
“It is not a Taoist method,” Jiang She replied.
“It is a technique I devised to repel dust and water. Rain dirties clothes and makes them hard to clean.”
Simply because rain wets clothes and is troublesome to wash, he created a method to avoid it? What a leisurely and refined way of living.
Li Bai was always strong and healthy. He learned swordsmanship from a young age and had traveled far over mountain paths, yet his breath remained steady. Others had even offered to teach him sword techniques to enter the Dao.
“Could someone like me learn such a method?”
“Yes.”
The words were spoken lightly, yet as soon as he said it, the bamboo rustled on both sides, as if stirred by an unseen presence. Li Bai’s pace slowed, and his tone grew respectful.
“May I ask what is needed…”
Before he could finish, Jiang She suddenly turned his gaze to a spot not far away.
Among the bamboo, a breeze stirred.
It was a slight, almost imperceptible wind. Li Bai felt a moment of confusion, unsure of what was happening. He looked up with Jiang She.
“A guest has arrived.”
From behind the bamboo emerged a pale deer, stepping down onto the grass with a demeanor both divine and sacred.
This old deer possessed the spirit of the divine. If mortals saw it, they would exclaim it was a celestial deer. If officials encountered such a sacred creature, they would surely call it an auspicious omen and present it to the emperor.
The old deer approached the two men.
Before Jiang She, it bent its foreleg and bowed.
It spoke human words:
“I am the mountain spirit of Deer Gate Mountain. I thank you, sir, for your offering of incense.”
“The mountain spirit is most courteous.”
Meeting the mountain spirit, Jiang She asked, “I have heard that during the Jin Dynasty, the recluse Pang Degong met an immortal. Was this by the mountain spirit’s doing?”
The spirit was lifted by an unseen force and recalled:
“Six or seven hundred years ago, an old man studied the Dao with this little spirit. His speech was extraordinary. It must have been the Pang Degong you mentioned.”
“And then?”
“He lived a full life of one hundred and twenty years before passing.”
Li Bai glanced sideways.
Seventy years old was already considered ancient, yet Pang Degong had lived a full century and two decades. Had the court known this, they would surely have regarded him as a true immortal.
Jiang She nodded.
“So it was as I heard. I have heard that the mountain spirit of Deer Gate Mountain is two white deer. Where is the other one?”
The spirit replied, “Its time has come. Its Dao has waned. It has already passed. I thank you again for your incense offering, which has extended this little spirit’s life by ten years.”
Li Bai listened, captivated.
Jiang She had burned the incense himself, a simple stick they had brought, made by Yuan Danqiu’s own hands—nothing miraculous.
Just a single stick of incense.
Yet it could extend the mountain spirit’s life by ten years?
If word got out, the gates of such a place would be trampled by high officials and nobles alike. Qin Shi Huang conquered the six kingdoms and ruled the four seas, yet in the end, his greatest desire was immortality.
Jiang She sighed, looking at the aging old deer.
“I offered incense only to thank you for sheltering me from the rain. The mountain spirit protects the local people and deserves incense offerings, but no need for such ceremony.”
“The mountain spirit called me back not merely to thank me. Is there some important matter?”
The old white deer bowed again.
“I cannot hide it from you, sir. I seek your aid.”
“Down the mountain is a family named Lu. Their ancestors once saved this little spirit’s life. I promised to watch over their descendants.”
“Recently, the eldest son of that family has been possessed by some foul thing. His temperament has changed; he insists on selling their land to seek wealth and status, and has already sold most of their property.”
“The Lu family lit incense and pleaded with me. I saw his face turn pale and cast spells to expel the evil, but all was in vain.”
“I hope you can restore order.”
The white deer sighed deeply and bowed. It had no wish to trouble anyone, but truly had no other means and placed its hopes on this passing gentleman.
Suddenly, the earth broke open, and a plant indistinguishable from wild grass began to grow. A red cord was tied to it, and its roots emerged faintly from the soil. Li Bai watched with interest, studying carefully, curious about this wondrous phenomenon.
The mountain spirit gently stepped on the ground, and a white, plump ginseng root emerged from the earth, shaped like a human figure with faintly discernible facial features.
Jiang She’s gaze held no greed. Such a precious mountain ginseng lay before him, yet he did not wish to pluck it.
“This ginseng has grown for eight hundred years and has now become a spirit. When it began growing, the Han Dynasty still ruled the land. Such a rarity.”
“Let it continue to grow.”
“The spring breeze is just right in April. I will descend the mountain and take a stroll, enjoy the season. No need for ceremony, mountain spirit.”
The white deer was lifted by an unseen force and stood once more.
The wild grass tied with the red cord was pressed back into the earth by an invisible hand.
There is no reason to make someone come all this way for nothing. Judging by this spirit’s nature, it seemed untroubled by material things, which made matters complicated.
The old deer’s white beard trembled slightly:
“I have troubled you, sir. I have received your incense, extending my life by ten years, and now ask you to run this errand on my behalf. I am deeply grateful and will not forget this kindness for many lifetimes.”
“Now is springtime, and the mountain abounds with many wild gifts—nothing precious, but tokens of my heart. I wish to offer some to you.”
“Please accept them!”
As the mountain spirit finished speaking, the rain-soaked mountain was lush and dripping with life—ripe wild berries, the youngest tea leaves, spring bamboo shoots covered in dew, fish just released from the thawed mountain streams.
A few red-billed, yellow-bellied birds fluttered over, carrying these gifts. Behind them, a small deer presented tender tea leaves, and a fierce tiger laid a fish on the grass, as if the mountain beasts understood human sentiment.
The wild azaleas of the mountain, stirred by the spirit’s words, blossomed luxuriantly, revealing their stamens and unfolding deep purple-red buds.
The scene was magnificent, like a glowing sunset.
Li Bai was astonished. Everywhere he looked, the mountain flowers embroidered the landscape.
The sight stirred his soul.
The day’s events shattered all his former beliefs. Truly, spirits existed in this world, and it was possible to encounter those who had attained the Dao. An eight-hundred-year-old ginseng, mountain beasts with seemingly human understanding, and flowers blooming across the entire mountain in mere moments.
The mountain spirit bowed once more and retreated step by step.
In the world, only a soft voice remained—words from the Deer Gate Mountain spirit:
“The hills and mounds hold nothing; I offer but a year’s spring.”
Spring rain on the mountain, green mists drifting.
At the summit, only two men remained.
Jiang She looked down at the mountain gifts. The old mountain spirit left without waiting for him to refuse. The tea leaves and bamboo shoots were easy enough to accept, but the live fish still jumped on the ground, full of vigor.
He felt troubled.
Li Bai bore his long sword on his back.
With solemnity and gravity, he clasped his hands respectfully.
“I, disciple Li Bai, wish to follow the immortals to learn the Dao sincerely and without regret!”