杜子春 English

I

It was a spring evening.

Beneath the western gate of Luoyang, the capital of Tang, stood a young man gazing blankly up at the sky.

The young man's name was Du Zichun; he had once been the son of a wealthy family, but had now squandered his entire fortune and been reduced to such pitiful straits that he could barely get through each day.

At that time Luoyang was a city of unrivaled prosperity under heaven, and the streets were never without a ceaseless flow of people and carriages.

In the oily light of the setting sun that filled the gate from end to end, the silken caps worn by old men, the golden earrings of Turkish women, and the colored reins adorning white horses streamed past in an endless procession — a scene of beauty as perfect as a painting.

Yet Du Zichun stood as before, leaning against the wall of the gate, staring vacantly up at nothing but the sky.

In the sky, a thin crescent moon already floated, faintly white, barely visible as a fingernail scratch amid the softly trailing haze.

"The sun is setting, my stomach is empty, and it seems there is nowhere left in the city that will take me in — if this is what it means to go on living, perhaps I would be better off throwing myself into the river and dying."

Du Zichun had been turning such aimless thoughts over and over in his mind for some time.

Then, from somewhere or other, an old man with one blind eye suddenly halted before him.

Bathed in the light of the setting sun, casting a long shadow against the gate, the old man stared fixedly at Du Zichun's face and said,

"What are you thinking about?"

in a high-handed tone.

"Me? I have nowhere to sleep tonight, so I am wondering what I ought to do."

The old man's question had come so abruptly that Du Zichun dropped his eyes and, despite himself, answered honestly.

"Is that so. That is a sorry state to be in."

The old man seemed to reflect for a moment, then pointed to the last rays of the setting sun falling across the road and said,

"Then let me tell you something useful. Stand now in that evening light, and when your shadow falls on the ground, dig at the spot where your shadow's head falls — do it in the middle of the night. You should find a cartload of gold buried there."

"Is that true?"

Du Zichun looked up in astonishment, raising the eyes he had cast down.

But stranger still — the old man had vanished utterly; not a shadow or trace of him remained anywhere nearby.

In his place, the moonlight in the sky had grown even whiter than before, and two or three impatient bats were already fluttering above the unceasing stream of passersby.

II

Within a single day, Du Zichun became the wealthiest man in all of Luoyang.

Just as the old man had said, he stood in the evening light to cast his shadow, and when he dug in the dead of night at the spot where his shadow's head fell, out came a mountain of gold enough to overflow even a great cart.

Grown suddenly rich, Du Zichun promptly bought himself a magnificent house and began living in a splendor that rivaled even Emperor Xuanzong.

He ordered wines from Lanling, sent for longan fruit from Guizhou, had peonies that changed color four times a day planted in his garden, kept several white peacocks roaming free, collected jade, commissioned embroidered brocades, had carriages built of fragrant wood, ordered chairs of ivory — to list his extravagances one by one would take longer than this story has to run.

When word of this got around, friends who had not so much as greeted him when they passed him in the street came calling morning and evening.

Their numbers grew with each passing day, and within half a year there was scarcely a talented man or beautiful woman of note in all of Luoyang who had not visited Du Zichun's house.

Du Zichun held banquets for these guests every single day.

The magnificence of those banquets defies easy description.

To give the barest outline: Du Zichun would drink Western wine from golden cups, watching spellbound as a magician from India swallowed swords, while around him twenty women — ten wearing jade lotus blossoms in their hair and ten wearing agate peonies — played flutes and zithers in intricate, delightful melodies.

But even for the greatest of fortunes there is a limit, and so even Du Zichun, prodigal as he was, found himself growing poorer as one year and then two years passed.

Human beings are cold-hearted creatures: friends who had come every day until yesterday now walked past his gate without so much as a greeting.

By the spring of the third year, when Du Zichun was once again left without a single coin, there was not one house in all of Luoyang that would offer him lodging.

Not just lodging — there was now no one who would give him even a bowl of water.

And so one evening he made his way once more to the western gate of Luoyang and stood there at his wit's end, staring blankly up at the sky.

Then, as before, the one-eyed old man appeared from somewhere and said,

"What are you thinking about?"

did he not.

At the sight of the old man Du Zichun bowed his head in what looked like shame and for a while made no reply.

But the old man repeated the same words with the same apparent kindness, and so Du Zichun answered as before:

"I have nowhere to sleep tonight, and I am wondering what I ought to do."

— replied in a hesitant, faltering voice.

"Is that so. That is a sorry state to be in. Then let me tell you something useful. Stand now in that evening light, and when your shadow falls on the ground, dig at the spot where your shadow's chest falls — do it in the middle of the night. You should find a cartload of gold buried there."

No sooner had the old man said this than he vanished, as if dissolved, into the crowd.

From the very next day, Du Zichun instantly became once more the greatest man of wealth in the realm.

And at the same time, as before, he began spending without restraint.

The peonies blooming in the garden, the white peacocks sleeping among them, and the Indian magician who swallowed swords — everything was exactly as before.

And so the vast quantity of gold that had filled a whole cart was once again entirely gone within about three years.

III

"What are you thinking about?"

The one-eyed old man came before Du Zichun for the third time and asked the same question.

Of course he was again standing vacantly at the western gate of Luoyang, watching the faint light of a crescent moon breaking through the haze.

"Me? I have nowhere to sleep tonight, and I am wondering what I ought to do."

"Is that so. That is a sorry state to be in. Then let me tell you something useful. Stand now in that evening light, and when your shadow falls on the ground, dig at the spot where your shadow's belly falls — do it in the middle of the night. You should find a cartload of —"

The old man had gotten this far when Du Zichun suddenly raised his hand and cut off his words.

"No — I want no more money."

"No more money? I see — it seems you have finally grown tired of luxury."

The old man stared intently at Du Zichun's face, his eyes showing a look of puzzlement.

"No, it is not that I am tired of luxury. I have grown sick of people."

Du Zichun said this bluntly, with a look of discontent.

"That is interesting. And why have you grown sick of people?"

"People are all heartless. When I am rich, they fawn and flatter, but let me become poor and they will not so much as show me a kind face. When I think about that, it seems to me that even if I were to become rich again, it would amount to nothing."

When the old man heard Du Zichun's words, he suddenly began to smile.

"I see. Well, for a young man you are remarkably perceptive. Then do you intend from now on to live quietly, even in poverty?"

Du Zichun hesitated briefly.

But then he raised his eyes with a look of resolution and, as if pleading, gazed at the old man's face and said,

"That too is beyond me as I am now. And so I wish to become your disciple and train in the arts of the immortals. Do not hide it — you are a Taoist sage of high virtue. If you were not, you could not have made me the wealthiest man in the realm in a single night. Please become my teacher and instruct me in your mysterious arts."

The old man kept his brow furrowed and was silent for a time, as if lost in thought, but then smiled again and said,

"Indeed, I am an immortal named Tieguan Zi who dwells on Mount Emei. When I first saw your face, you seemed quick-witted enough, and that is why I made you wealthy twice over — but if you are so determined to become an immortal, I shall take you on as my disciple."

And he graciously granted the request.

Du Zichun was overjoyed — more than words can say.

Before the old man had even finished speaking, Du Zichun pressed his forehead to the earth and bowed to Tieguan Zi again and again.

"Come now, no need for such thanks. However much I may take you as my disciple, whether you become a proper immortal or not depends entirely on you. — But in any case, first come with me to the depths of Mount Emei and see. Oh, how fortunate — here is a bamboo staff lying about. Then let us mount this and cross the sky in a single bound."

Tieguan Zi picked up a green bamboo stalk that lay there, and while murmuring an incantation under his breath, he straddled it together with Du Zichun as though mounting a horse.

And is this not astonishing?

The bamboo staff instantly shot up into the great sky with the vigor of a dragon and flew across the clear spring evening sky in the direction of Mount Emei.

Du Zichun, with his heart in his mouth, fearfully looked down below.

But below there was nothing to be seen but blue mountains in the glow of dusk, and the western gate of Luoyang — lost long ago in the haze, it seemed — was nowhere to be found however he searched.

Before long, Tieguan Zi, his white sideburns streaming in the wind, broke into a loud song.

In the morning he roams the Northern Sea; by dusk he reaches Cangwu.

A blue serpent in his sleeve — how bold his spirit!

Three times he has entered Yueyang, and no one knows him.

Chanting freely, he passes over Dongting Lake.

IV

The green bamboo carrying the two of them soon descended onto Mount Emei.

It was a broad flat expanse of rock overlooking a deep gorge, and it must have been at an extraordinary height, for the stars of the Great Dipper hanging in midair shone as large as teacups.

As this was a mountain where no human foot had ever trodden, a profound stillness reigned all around; the only sound that reached the ear was the rushing of the wind through the gnarled branches of a single pine growing against the sheer cliff behind.

When the two of them arrived on this rock, Tieguan Zi seated Du Zichun at the foot of the cliff and said,

"I must now go up to heaven and pay my respects to the Queen Mother of the West, so in the meantime sit here and wait for my return. While I am away, various demons will likely appear and try to bewitch you, but whatever may happen, do not utter a sound. If you speak so much as a single word, know that you can never hope to become an immortal. Do you understand? Even if heaven and earth split asunder — hold your silence."

So he said.

"I understand. I will not make a sound. Even if it costs me my life, I will stay silent."

"Good. Hearing that, I am at ease. Then I shall go."

The old man took his leave of Du Zichun, mounted the bamboo staff once more, and vanished in a straight line into the sky above the peaks that stood sharp as cut stone even in the dark of night.

Du Zichun sat alone on the rock and calmly watched the stars.

Then, after perhaps half an hour had passed, and the cold night air of the deep mountains had begun to seep through his thin clothing, a voice suddenly rang out in the air:

"Who is that sitting there?"

— did it not bark at him.

But Du Zichun, following the immortal's instructions, made no reply whatsoever.

Then after a short while the same voice rang out again:

"If you do not answer, you had better be ready to forfeit your life on the spot."

— it threatened, in an imposing tone.

Du Zichun of course stayed silent.

Then — from where it had come no one could say — a tiger with eyes blazing fiercely leaped up onto the rock with a sudden bound, glared at Du Zichun, and let out a single great roar.

And at the same moment, even as the pine branches overhead thrashed wildly, a white serpent as large as a four-to barrel came sliding down from the top of the cliff behind, darting a tongue of flame, drawing rapidly nearer.

Yet Du Zichun sat with perfect composure, not so much as an eyebrow stirring.

The tiger and the serpent, circling the same prey and each watching for the other's opening, held each other's gaze for a moment — but then, as if by the same impulse, they both sprang at Du Zichun at once.

At the very instant when it seemed that Du Zichun would surely be crushed in the tiger's jaws or swallowed by the serpent's tongue, tiger and snake dissolved like mist into the night wind and vanished, leaving behind only the pine on the cliff, moaning in the wind exactly as before.

Du Zichun let out a long breath and waited expectantly to see what would come next.

Then a gust of wind rose, and no sooner had ink-black clouds closed over everything on all sides than pale violet lightning abruptly tore the darkness in two, and a tremendous thunder began to roll.

And not only thunder.

At the same time a torrent of rain came crashing down all at once.

Du Zichun sat within this upheaval of the heavens without a trace of fear.

The howling wind, the lashing rain, the unceasing flash of lightning — for a time it seemed as though even Mount Emei itself might be overturned, but then, just as a crack of thunder shook the air enough to burst one's eardrums, a single pillar of red fire came plunging down from the swirling black clouds straight toward Du Zichun's head.

Du Zichun clapped his hands over his ears and threw himself face-down on the flat rock.

But when he opened his eyes, the sky was clear again as before, and the stars of the Great Dipper glittered above the peaks rising in the distance, bowl-bright and unwavering.

From this it could only be that the great storm just now, like the tiger and the white serpent before it, was the mischief of demons seizing upon Tieguan Zi's absence.

Du Zichun finally felt reassured; wiping the cold sweat from his brow, he settled himself upright on the rock once more.

But before his breath had even settled, there appeared before him a stern divine general clad from head to foot in golden armor, standing what must have been three jo tall.

The divine general held a three-pronged halberd in his hand, and leveling the tip directly at Du Zichun's chest, he glared and bellowed:

"Who in the world are you? This mountain of Emei has been my dwelling since the beginning of heaven and earth. To set foot here alone, without any reverence — you can be no ordinary mortal. Speak at once if you value your life."

So he thundered.

Yet Du Zichun, true to the old man's words, sat with his mouth sealed in silence.

"You will not answer? — Very well. If you will not, then suit yourself. But in return, my retinue will cut you to pieces."

The divine general raised his halberd high and signaled to the sky above the mountains opposite.

At that instant the darkness split apart, and to Du Zichun's astonishment, countless divine soldiers filled the sky like clouds, every one of them brandishing spears and swords, on the verge of pouring down upon him in one great surge.

At this sight Du Zichun nearly cried out in spite of himself, but he immediately recalled Tieguan Zi's words and kept quiet with all his might.

When the divine general saw that Du Zichun showed no fear, he was furious beyond measure.

"You stubborn wretch. If you absolutely refuse to answer, I shall take your life as promised."

No sooner had the divine general shouted this than he brandished the three-pronged halberd and thrust it straight through Du Zichun, killing him.

And then, laughing loudly enough to shake Mount Emei, he vanished into nothing.

Of course by that moment the countless divine soldiers had already disappeared like a dream, borne away on the passing night wind.

The stars of the Great Dipper once again shone coldly down upon the broad flat rock.

The cliff-side pine, too, moaned and rustled as it had all along.

But Du Zichun had long since breathed his last and lay there, fallen on his back.

V

Du Zichun's body lay on its back on the rock, but his soul quietly slipped free of the body and descended to the depths of Hell.

Between this world and Hell there is a passage called the Dark Hollow Road, where an icy wind howls year-round through the unbroken darkness.

Buffeted by that wind, Du Zichun drifted through the air for a time like a leaf, and at last arrived before a magnificent palace bearing a plaque inscribed "Palace of Myriad Laws."

The great crowd of demons standing before the palace no sooner caught sight of Du Zichun than they surrounded him and dragged him to the foot of the steps.

At the top of the steps sat a king in a jet-black robe and golden crown, gazing sternly around.

This could be none other than the Great King Yama, of whom Du Zichun had long heard tales.

Not knowing what was to become of him, Du Zichun knelt there in fearful apprehension.

"You there — what reason had you for sitting upon Mount Emei?"

The Great King Yama's voice thundered down from the top of the steps.

Du Zichun was about to answer the question at once, but then recalled with a start — "Never open your mouth"

— the prohibition Tieguan Zi had laid upon him.

And so he simply kept his head bowed and remained silent as a mute.

Then the Great King Yama raised the iron tablet he held, his beard bristling all about his face, and said,

"Do you know where this is? Answer promptly and all will be well; otherwise I will subject you to the torments of Hell without delay."

— he railed, drawing himself up to his full imposing height.

Yet Du Zichun did not move so much as a lip.

Seeing this, the Great King Yama turned to the demons and gave them a sharp order; the demons bowed all at once in submission, and instantly seized Du Zichun and swept upward into the sky above the Palace of Myriad Laws.

In Hell, as everyone knows, there are not only the Mountain of Swords and the Lake of Blood, but also a valley of flames called the Inferno and a sea of ice called the Frozen Hell, all ranged beneath a pitch-black sky.

The demons hurled Du Zichun one after another into each of these hells.

And so Du Zichun suffered every cruelty imaginable — pierced through the chest by swords, his face scorched by flames, his tongue torn out, his skin flayed, beaten with iron pestles, boiled in vats of oil, having his brains sucked by venomous serpents, his eyes devoured by great hawks — to enumerate all his torments would be an endless task.

Yet Du Zichun bore it with stubborn endurance, teeth clenched tight, and did not speak a single word.

Even the demons, for all their ferocity, must have been left utterly at a loss.

Flying once more through the night-black sky, they returned before the Palace of Myriad Laws and thrust Du Zichun to the foot of the steps as before, then reported to the Great King Yama above:

"This sinner shows no sign of speaking whatsoever."

— they announced in one voice.

The Great King Yama knitted his brows and was lost in thought for a while, but presently seemed to hit upon something and said,

"This man's father and mother must have fallen into the realm of animals — go and bring them here at once."

— he ordered one of the demons.

The demon instantly rode the wind and soared up into the sky of Hell.

Then, swift as a shooting star, it swept back down before the Palace of Myriad Laws, driving before it two wretched beasts.

Du Zichun was shocked beyond all measure at the sight of those beasts.

For both of them, though they had the form of scrawny, wretched horses, bore the faces — faces he could never forget even in a dream — of his dead father and mother.

"You there — if you will not confess honestly why you were sitting upon Mount Emei, this time I will make your father and mother suffer for it."

Even threatened thus, Du Zichun still gave no answer.

"You ungrateful wretch! You think that as long as things are convenient for you, it does not matter if your father and mother suffer, does it?"

The Great King Yama bellowed in a voice so fearsome it seemed it might crumble the very Palace of Myriad Laws.

"Beat them, demons! Beat those two beasts until flesh and bone are shattered!"

The demons all answered "Yes!" in unison

and rose to their feet, iron whips in hand, and set upon the two horses from all four sides without mercy.

The whips sang through the air and fell like rain upon the horses' flesh without distinction.

The horses — the father and mother who had been reborn as animals — writhed in agony and, with tears of blood in their eyes, let out whinnies pitiful beyond bearing.

"Well? Do you still refuse to confess?"

The Great King Yama made the demons pause their whipping for a moment, and once more demanded an answer from Du Zichun.

By now the two horses lay collapsed before the steps, flesh torn, bones shattered, barely breathing.

Du Zichun shut his eyes tight, desperately calling Tieguan Zi's words to mind.

Then at that moment, a voice — so faint it could scarcely be called a voice at all — reached his ears.

"Do not worry. Whatever becomes of us, if only you can find happiness, there is nothing more we could wish for. No matter what the Great King says, if there is something you do not wish to speak, stay silent."

It was unmistakably his mother's beloved voice.

Du Zichun opened his eyes without thinking.

And he saw one of the horses lying helplessly on the ground, looking up at his face with a sorrowful, steady gaze.

Even in such torment, his mother was thinking of her son's heart and showed not the slightest sign of resenting the lashes of the demons' whips.

Compared to the people of the world — who flatter when one is rich and will not even speak to one when one is poor — how precious a devotion this was.

How courageous a resolve.

Du Zichun forgot the old man's admonition, stumbled to his mother's side, threw both arms around the neck of the half-dead horse, and letting tears fall in streams, cried out, "Mother!"

— in a single voice…

VI

When the cry brought him back to his senses, Du Zichun found himself once again standing in the evening sun beneath the western gate of Luoyang, lost in a daze.

The hazy sky, the pale crescent moon, the ceaseless waves of people and carriages — everything was the same as it had been before he went to Mount Emei.

"Well? As my disciple, I imagine you found it impossible to become an immortal after all."

The one-eyed old man said with a faint smile.

"I could not. I could not — and yet, strangely, I find I am glad that I could not."

Du Zichun, still with tears in his eyes, reached out impulsively and grasped the old man's hand.

"However much I might have become an immortal, I could not have remained silent seeing my father and mother being whipped before the Palace of Myriad Laws in Hell."

"If you had remained silent —"

said Tieguan Zi, suddenly taking on a grave expression, and fixing Du Zichun with a steady gaze.

"If you had remained silent, I intended to end your life on the spot. — You no longer wish to become an immortal, I imagine. And you must have long since lost all taste for becoming a great man of wealth. Then what do you think you will become from now on?"

"Whatever I become, I intend to live an honest, human life."

Du Zichun's voice carried a brightness it had never held before.

"Do not forget those words. Then, as of today, I shall not meet you again."

Tieguan Zi was already walking away as he spoke, but suddenly stopped and looked back toward Du Zichun, saying,

"Ah — fortunately, it just comes to mind: I have a house at the southern foot of Mount Tai. I will give you that house, land and all, so go there and make it your home without delay. By now the peach blossoms should be in full bloom all around the house."

— and added this in a tone of what seemed like genuine delight.