Volume One: Slanting Wind and Fine Rain Enter Jianmen

Chapter One: The Daoist Who Cheats for Food and Drink (Part One)

A poem says:

Recalling the days of Kaiyuan’s full glory,

Even small towns housed ten thousand families.

Rice flowed with oil, millet was white,

Both public and private granaries were full.

At the beginning of the Tianbao era, the land was bountiful, and a dou of rice cost no more than ten qian. In Jian’nan Circuit, under Langzhong Prefecture, there was a county called Yilong. To the south of the county stood a mountain named Jincheng Mountain. Legend has it that Ge Hong ascended to immortality here, and to this day, the Baopu Cave remains. The mountain’s forests are deep, streams babble, as if Ge Hong’s ancient Daoist altar still exists. The mountain, having absorbed the essence of nature, possesses a certain spiritual charm.

On this day, two people walked along the mountain path—an old and a young itinerant Daoist. The one in front was a Daoist novice. Though called a novice, he was tall and already looked like an adult. He wore a short, coarse black robe, a purple bamboo crown on his head, and carried a large rough cloth bag on his back. Though dressed as a Daoist novice, his manner was casual and unrestrained, quite different from the typical Tang person’s demeanor.

He leapt onto a strange rock, examined it for a moment, then turned and laughed, “Old Daoist, the mountains here are beautiful and the rocks are elegant. Why not build a Daoist temple here? It would be a good place to retire and ascend to immortality.”

The old Daoist behind him was even more wretched, lacking any trace of immortal bearing. He was short, his face sallow, and the cloth bag on his back seemed to weigh a thousand catties, making his mouth crooked, eyes askew, and hair disheveled. Though it was the coldest part of winter, large beads of sweat rolled down his goatee and dripped to the ground. His blue Daoist robe was soaked inside and out, and from a distance, white steam rose from his head, but it had nothing to do with Daoist immortality.

“You think I don’t want to? Everywhere we go, people look down on us. My legs have gotten thin from all this running around these past two years.” He leaned against a large rock, struggling to hoist the bag higher on his back, then grumbled, “Isn’t it just because I have no money? It took me ages to save a few coins, and then I ran into a glutton like you!”

Speaking of money, the Daoist novice glanced at the old Daoist’s cloth bag and laughed, “I’ve never seen anyone carry money like you. Can’t you exchange it for silver? Those ten strings of cash must weigh at least fifty or sixty jin. Look at how it’s crushing you. Let me carry it for you!”

Seeing the novice’s wolfish claws reaching for his bag, the old Daoist was so frightened he took two steps back, lost his balance, and—thud!—fell on his backside. He hurriedly said, “Just mind your own luggage! That bag has our eating utensils. I can carry the money myself!”

He struggled to his feet, patted the dust off his clothes, and thought, “It really is too heavy. I’ll find a money shop to deposit it once we get down the mountain.” Looking up, he saw dark clouds drifting in from the west and shouted anxiously, “It’s getting late. See if there’s a path down the mountain nearby. We can’t spend another night in the wild.”

The Daoist novice realized he was hungry as his stomach rumbled. He quickly looked around and suddenly laughed, “Aren’t we already on the path down the mountain?”

The old Daoist was overjoyed and hurried ahead. The novice jumped down from the rock, and a bronze sword fell out of his bag. He didn’t bother to put it back, just grabbed it and chased after the old Daoist. The two shouted as they went, their voices fading into the distance.

This Daoist novice was named Emily Thompson. He was originally an accountant at a local finance office in a small town in Jiangnan. During National Day, he went with colleagues to visit Qingcheng Mountain in Sichuan. Enchanted by the breathtaking scenery, he slipped and fell off the mountain. When he woke up, he found himself in the Tang Dynasty, rescued by Arthur Coleman, who set his dislocated bones. Having received such kindness, he naturally wanted to repay it. With nowhere else to go for food, he agreed to be the old Daoist’s apprentice for a year, helping out as needed. Over the past few months, Emily Thompson gradually adapted to the time difference and naturally came to see himself as just another commoner under Abraham Lincoln’s rule.

Though called Daoists, in reality, they were just charlatans, tricking gullible villagers and foolish women out of a few coins or some rice to get by. Such tricks were everywhere in Emily Thompson’s time. After working with the old Daoist a few times, he became quite adept and even came up with some new ideas. Just a few days ago, they swindled a wealthy family in Xinzheng County, coaxing an old lady out of ten strings of funeral savings. Fearing exposure and arrest, they fled along wild mountain paths and ended up here at Jincheng Mountain.