Chapter 484: Wudang Peach Charm

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He Xinliang

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He XinliangFenghuo Xizhuhou

The region south of the Yangtze River is predominantly hilly, with distinct accents emerging every ten *li* and different customs every hundred. Yu Family Village, with fewer than a hundred households, had simple yellow mud houses built into the hillside. Mountains rose behind it and stretched before it, with a stream murmuring at their base. Sandwiched between two other villages, Yu Family Village had never produced any notable figures—not even a *juren* or *xiucai* scholar, let alone an influential official. Consequently, they were often severely bullied by the other two villages. During the summer rice-growing season, when water was scarce, they frequently endured mistreatment, only daring to secretly dig open the small dams built by neighboring villagers to divert water into their own fields in the dead of night. There was a local custom of "bamboo horse dance," but Yu Family Village was so poor that even those riding bamboo horses for alms were unwilling to enter. Each time, the village children could only wistfully follow behind, risking humiliation to watch the festivities in neighboring villages.

Few people in Yu Family Village had surnames other than Yu, because men typically married women from within their own village, calling it "keeping the good fortune within the family." This was unlike the two neighboring villages, which welcomed brides from outside every year. San Yazi, who was born with a developmental disability, also had parents surnamed Yu. His parents' families lived at opposite ends of the village; one could walk from one door to the other in less time than it took to finish half a bowl of rice. San Yazi had a delicate appearance. In local dialect, it was said he drank too much "soul-bewitching soup" when he was reborn, preventing him from developing intelligence in this life. His parents took him to a renowned sorceress dozens of miles away to summon his soul, but even she couldn't retrieve it from the King of Hell.

However, every village had a fool or two who were subjects of laughter. San Yazi's parents had long resigned themselves to his condition, reasoning that at least he was a boy, and they could spend more money later to find any woman for him to marry, ensuring the continuation of their family line. Yet, Yu Family Village had been buzzing with astonishment recently: San Yazi had inexplicably "gained his wits." Previously, he would only giggle and drool incessantly when he saw people, but now he was clean and even knew how to respectfully greet village elders. In the wealthier neighboring Song Village, there was a small village school in a thatched hut. It wasn't a clan school, so it accepted children from other surnames. San Yazi, whose real name was Yu Fu, would run there and squat outside the window to listen to the teacher. Every day, he would return to the village and scribble on the ground, and only later did the villagers realize these were actual characters from books. The teacher, whose scholarly status was unknown, had settled in the village twenty years ago and never left. His curriculum consisted merely of the "Three Hundred Surnames," "Thousand Character Classic," and "Hundred Family Surnames"—basic introductory texts that were nothing out of the ordinary, and he never uttered anything remarkable. He was likely just a pedantic scholar with a rudimentary grasp of literature, and his strong provincial accent made it difficult for the young students to get used to. For some reason, the sixty-year-old teacher took a special interest in San Yazi. Not only did he deliberately place a small stool outside the window for him, but during his free time, he also subtly taught the boy various introductory rituals for scholars, such as folding hands in greeting, bowing, proper walking, and attentive listening. Since he didn't demand any initial courtesy gift from Yu Fu's parents, he also didn't require the boy to perform the customary kowtow for admission.

A young Daoist priest, carrying a peach wood sword and a cotton cloth satchel, walked along a winding dirt path. Standing beneath an ancient pagoda tree, he looked out, and the landscape opened up dramatically, revealing three interconnected villages stretching into the distance. In winter, the stream's flow was sluggish, exposing many rocks. The Daoist, possessing a rare elegance for someone in the countryside, squatted by the stream along a well-trodden path. He scooped up a handful of cool water and gently washed his face, the sounds of roosters crowing and dogs barking in his ears. A smile played on his lips. As he stood up, several village children of various ages squatted on the bank. The bolder ones asked if he was an immortal who could catch demons and exorcise ghosts. The simply robed Daoist smiled warmly and shook his head, causing the disappointed children to scatter like birds. The Daoist entered the village. In front of the houses, many elderly people were lazily sitting on tree stumps, warming themselves in the sun with bamboo cages containing iron-lined charcoal heaters. Upon seeing the rarely encountered Daoist, their eyes held a simple curiosity and respect, but unsure how to greet him politely for fear of displeasing him, they merely offered smiles. The young Daoist, with his clear eyes, naturally had a kind appearance and didn't make any deliberate gestures in return. He walked leisurely through the village, stopping occasionally, until he followed the sound of children's chanting to the village school. There, he saw Yu Fu, small and engrossed, swaying as he sat on a small stool by the window. The young Daoist paused, averted his gaze, and quietly smoothed his robe and brushed off dust before walking closer to stand beside Yu Fu, listening to the chanting with him. After the old scholar inside set a reading passage, he didn't sit upright but instead stood by the other window, one hand behind his back, the other holding a book, nodding occasionally. When the children finished reciting, the elderly teacher was about to speak when he inadvertently saw the Daoist outside the window. A look of surprise crossed his face, and he quickly stepped out of the simple thatched hut. The young Daoist bowed and said, "I am Li Yufu, a humble Daoist. I once practiced cultivation on Wudang Mountain."

The teacher, surprised and flattered by the bow, said, "So you are a True One who cultivated on Wudang Mountain! I am Xu Liang, and I am ashamed to be a teacher, fearing I might mislead my students. If there are any improprieties in my teaching, I humbly ask for your guidance, True One."

The young Daoist shook his head and smiled slightly, "Mr. Xu, you overstate my importance. This humble Daoist is traveling around and boldly seeking an opportunity before returning to the mountain. I might cause you quite a bit of bother in the future."

Xu Liang, who had always been stiff and strict in front of the children, laughed heartily, "True One, you are too polite, too polite!"

The current imperial court's reverence for Daoism and the Yellow Emperor was almost boundless. As long as they weren't itinerant charlatans deliberately swindling money from gullible commoners, registered and legitimate Daoists were highly respected by both the court and the populace. Daoist temples were numerous across the land, with Longhu Mountain and Wudang Mountain holding the preeminent positions among "immortal mountains." In the eyes of country folk, any Daoist hailing from these two blessed lands, regardless of age, was worthy of being called a "True One." If this Daoist, who called himself Li Yufu, hadn't been so young, Xu Liang, who certainly possessed some education, would have respectfully addressed him as an "Immortal." As for disputes over ancestral temples or immortals ascending to heaven, these were matters far beyond the villagers' concern; even if they heard of them, they could only gape in wonder. Yu Fu, with his clear eyes and handsome features, stood up from the stool but didn't leave, remaining quietly by the side to listen. Xu Liang glanced at the boy, whom he believed to be intelligent, and half-jokingly said, "Since True One has come seeking an opportunity, perhaps you'd like to take a look at this child. His surname is Yu, and his given name is Fu. Both are common, but put together, they're quite refined. Yu Fu, Yu Fu—'accumulating blessings for the rest of one's life'—what a wonderful name! When I was young, I learned a little about physiognomy. I don't see great wealth, but I simply feel a sense of joy and good fortune about him. True One Li, perhaps you could open your 'celestial eye'?"

Li Yufu knelt down, gazing at Yu Fu, who met his eyes without shyness. He said softly, "This humble Daoist dares not speak presumptuously."

The old man felt a little regretful not hearing words of praise, but having weathered many storms, he knew that many blessings couldn't be forced; otherwise, he wouldn't have contented himself with solitude as a poor village teacher.

Then, a Daoist priest surnamed Li inexplicably settled in Yu Family Village. He didn't borrow lodging from the villagers; instead, he spent half a fortnight building a bamboo house on the bamboo-rich mountain. In his leisure time, he wove bamboo baskets and distributed them to the villagers. If someone brought him homemade rice wine or food, he would return a large basket of winter bamboo shoots. He also patiently helped many children split bamboo to make flutes and taught them how to play. Whenever there were celebrations or funerals in the village, people were willing to ask for his help. If anyone fell slightly ill, the young Daoist would proactively go deep into the mountains to gather herbs, even acting like a physician, diagnosing and quietly guiding their meridians. Over time, not only the nearby villages but also those within a hundred *li* radius learned that Yu Family Village's ancestral graves must be blessed, as a young immortal had actually settled in the back mountains to cultivate Daoism in a thatched hut. When Xu Liang had free time, he would go to the bamboo house to seek guidance on cultivation methods from True One Li, and Yu Fu often accompanied him. As firecrackers heralded the new year and old peach wood charms were replaced with new ones, Yu Fu's parents, who had always felt inferior in the village, now felt immensely proud because the spring couplet hanging on True One Li's bamboo door was written by their son. Ever since True One Li arrived and grew close to Yu Fu, Yu Fu's parents spoke with a noticeable boost in confidence in the village. Several of the village's prettier young women, whenever they chanced upon the young Daoist on the village's bluestone paths, would smile coyly, lower their heads, and walk past slowly with downcast eyes, then secretly glance back once they had passed. Some married women, however, were not so reserved. When washing clothes on the bluestone by the stream with the elegant young man, they would speak without inhibition. Whenever they saw the young Daoist in his robe blush, the women would look at each other and laugh heartily, secretly thinking, "What a sensitive young man! If he ever abandons his Daoist life, what a blessing it would be for any woman who marries him!"

In the blink of an eye, winter snow melted, and spring unexpectedly arrived with blooming flowers. Willows sprouted tender yellow shoots, and the stream murmured with the sound of incoming green carp.

Every morning, as the sun rose and climbed over the mountain, villagers working early could witness a delightful scene: under the guidance of True One Li, a group of children earnestly practiced martial arts in front of the bamboo house. Although it was described as boxing practice, they were mostly just drawing circles in the air, but from a distance, it looked truly beautiful.

Day after day, spring turned into summer. Apart from his overly refined appearance, True One Li had become indistinguishable from a simple villager in all other aspects. He gave all the proceeds from gathering and selling herbs to the elderly and widowed in the village. Whenever there was pressing farm work, a child only needed to run a few steps to inform him, and he would surely appear. After the Grain Rain season, when it was time for transplanting rice seedlings, he could be seen almost daily, bent over in different fields. He had seemingly learned by himself and was skilled at the task. Perhaps influenced by him, the three villages that used to frequently clash over water rights now had much more amicable relations, showing more empathy and less bullying. The teacher Xu Liang, when tipsy, would always nag the village elders not to let farm work delay the True One's cultivation. At first, the villagers were a bit apprehensive, but later, seeing that True One Li remained as responsive as ever, they put their minds at ease. During this period, some claimed to have personally seen a tiger descend the mountain, only for True One Li to stand there, and the king of the mountain would meekly turn and flee back into the deep woods. The unsophisticated villagers increasingly felt that if there truly were immortals in the world, they couldn't be more impressive than him.

One late summer or early autumn evening, as the heat on the mountain subsided, Yu Fu and the teacher Xu Liang sat cooling themselves in front of the bamboo house. Li Yufu sat on a small stool, his fingers flying as he wove a bamboo basket.

The child, now very familiar with True One Li, squatted beside him, resting his chin in his hands, and asked, "Is Wudang Mountain very high?"

Li Yufu paused his basket weaving and said gently, "When one is young, it takes a long time to walk there, so it might feel high. But when one grows older, it doesn't feel so high anymore."

The child asked with a smile, "Does it snow on Wudang Mountain too?"

Li Yufu looked up at the towering mountain opposite, pressed his lips together, then nodded and smiled, "Of course. When my master's master was carrying my junior martial uncle up the mountain, there was a very heavy snowfall. I remember junior martial uncle told me that the next day, when he was called to wake up and stood on Little Lotus Peak, the snow-covered peaks looked like large steamed buns, making one's mouth water."

Yu Fu then asked, "Can I go to Wudang Mountain to see it?"

This time, Li Yufu didn't speak, merely smiled.

Xu Liang was not a pedantic fool. He kindly glanced at Yu Fu, patted his head, then turned to Li Yufu and quietly said, "Since there's such an affinity, why not bring him into the Daoist school? This would be an immense blessing for Yu Fu's entire family."

Li Yufu's gaze was firm as he said, "We who cultivate Daoism to attain immortality do not go against human ethics or reason. While one's parents are alive, one does not travel far; if one must travel, it must be with a clear purpose."

The old man sighed with emotion, "Since the True One said 'if one must travel, it must be with a clear purpose,' that implies distant travel isn't impossible. As long as the child's parents are settled and have no worries, he would have fulfilled his filial duty."

Li Yufu smiled warmly, "Let's wait a little longer. It's fine."

Xu Liang hesitated, then asked in a low voice, "True One Li, there is something I, Xu, am unsure whether to ask or not."

Li Yufu nodded, "Please speak, sir."

Xu Liang gritted his teeth and said, "During the New Year's market, I took it upon myself to inquire about Wudang Mountain in the city. I heard that the current Grand Master is surnamed Li."

Living here, one could indeed see the mountains right outside the door. Li Yufu calmly said, "That is this humble Daoist."

Xu Liang was struck as if by lightning. He abruptly stood up, his lips trembling, completely at a loss.

Li Yufu smiled, put down the half-woven basket, stood up, and gently guided the old teacher back to his bamboo chair, then resumed his work.

Xu Liang muttered to himself as if in a daze, "How can there be an immortal like you?"

Another year, and it was time to change the peach wood charms. Li Yufu came to Yu Fu's home, bringing a handful of spring couplets. Yu Fu's father shamelessly asked True One Li for several pairs of couplets, not leaving out his in-laws' house or those of several distant relatives.

Just as True One Li was about to turn and leave, Yu Fu's father's face turned red. He fidgeted uncomfortably, wanting to speak but hesitating. His wife repeatedly tugged at his sleeve, but the man didn't dare to open his mouth.

The man knew that this awkward silence couldn't continue. He had heard storytellers say that honesty was best, even if it was difficult. He scratched his head, took a bag from his wife, and said with a simple grin, "True One Li, my wife... she's pregnant again. And times are peaceful now; people in the mountains aren't afraid of having more children, as they can afford to raise them all. So I was thinking, could I beg the True One to accept Yu Fu as your disciple? If this boy makes something of himself, our Yu family will also be blessed. True One Li, we don't have much silver at home, only what we've saved up here. I know the True One doesn't seek this, but if you could accept Yu Fu, even if it means we owe you money, we will surely repay it in the future."

Li Yufu pushed the money bag back, then took Yu Fu's hand, and together they bowed deeply to the couple.

The man, who rarely called his son by his given name, was afraid True One Li would change his mind. He hastily called out, "Yu Fu, hurry and kowtow to your master!"

Li Yufu released Yu Fu's hand, stepped back three paces, and folded his hands over his lower abdomen.

Yu Fu knelt and struck his head three times heavily against the ground.

After Yu Fu made his first kowtow, Li Yufu had already raised his arm, using his sleeve to cover his eyes, yet he could not conceal the tears streaming down his face.

That year, Wudang Mountain saw heavy snow, and the Grand Master, Li Yufu, brought back a disciple named Yu Fu.

As the young Grand Master carried the child up the mountain, the drowsy boy clutched a string of bright red candied haws, too precious to eat.

Upon reaching the summit of Wudang, the young Daoist, still carrying his disciple, looked out into the distance and choked out, "Junior Martial Uncle, we've returned to the mountain."

Collapse replies:Too long (2013-12-22 3:43 AM)Forced interruption (2013-12-22 3:43 AM)Too long (2013-12-22 3:43 AM)Interrupt.. (2013-12-22 3:45 AM)Again (2013-12-22 3:46 AM)Reply: Annoying (2013-12-22 3:46 AM)Reply to Jiao Mei Wuxian: Too short… (2013-12-22 3:48 AM)

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