The white-robed Taoist half-closed his eyes, his fair hands as smooth as jade gently stroking his grey beard while he spoke slowly, “Master Mei, you truly possess an immortal root, instantly perceiving the truth. Authentic Taoist words cannot be confined by the symmetry of worldly poetic couplets. This couplet was composed by my late master; its tones and rhythms are not strictly balanced, deliberately avoiding the flaw of ‘echoing each other’.”
At this point, the white-robed Taoist paused thoughtfully, slightly opening his eyes as if gazing far beyond the horizon, his voice even more tranquil, “Ordinary people’s couplets often fall into the trap of repetition—clouds matching rains, snows matching winds, evening sunlight matching clear skies—knowing only the form but losing the essence. Taoism discusses yin and yang, which is especially prone to this mistake. Therefore, my late master specially wrote this couplet to remind future generations not to lose the meaning while grasping the form, and to avoid straying from the true path of Taoist cultivation.”
Though Mei Qing found the white-robed Taoist’s explanation somewhat far-fetched, he sensed a deeper meaning in his words. Zhang Qizheng, however, was wide-eyed with admiration, clapping his hands repeatedly and exclaiming, “The immortal master’s words are profound and subtle!” as if completely immersed in the Taoist wisdom.
Seeing the two lost in their rapture, Mei Qing could only sit silently beside them. After a while, when they still showed no sign of returning to reality, he coughed twice and said politely, “Your teachings have indeed brought me peace and clarity, surpassing the reading of countless books. On the way here, I heard from Brother Zhang that you recently acquired a rare Taoist scripture. I would be honored to see it and feast my eyes.”
A slight flicker of displeasure crossed the white-robed Taoist’s face, but it vanished quickly as he smiled faintly, “Of course. Qingfeng, please bring out the copy of the ‘Yun Ji Qi Qian’ I recently acquired for our guests to examine.”
The young Taoist boy who had served tea earlier moved promptly and soon returned carrying a bundle of books, placing them respectfully on the table.
The white-robed Taoist gestured with his hand and said, “I came upon this Taoist scripture by chance. Actually, the value of scriptures passed down from our ancestors lies in their meaning, not in the rarity of their physical copies. However, Brother Zhang believes that every word and page must have a reason for its existence. Therefore, it is fortunate that Master Mei, with your profound background, can appreciate it.”
Mei Qing humbly declined the compliment while gently opening the bundle and taking out the book. As he examined it, he noticed the paper was of the finest Chengxintang quality, which immediately caught his attention.
Chengxintang paper was a premium product, commonly used by scholars and artists for calligraphy and painting, but rarely for printing books. Just this feature alone made this book highly unusual.
Carefully opening the volume, Mei Qing browsed through the beginning pages, then slowly closed it and looked up at the white-robed Taoist, saying, “Congratulations, immortal master! This is indeed a Song dynasty edition. If I am not mistaken, it may be a Southern Song masterpiece, or even an imperial edition.”
“Ah?” The Taoist was momentarily stunned, his eyes flashing as he asked, “Are you certain, Master Mei? I must admit, I have heard something of editions. Although this Taoist scripture was compiled in the Song dynasty, its format seems somewhat different?”
Mei Qing nodded, explaining, “Indeed, Song dynasty bookbinding was commonly known as ‘butterfly binding’—the pages were folded in the middle and glued together, with the outer edges left open like butterfly wings, hence the name. However, this Taoist volume you have is bound with thread along the spine, clearly not in the Song style, nor does it resemble current binding methods. If I am not mistaken, this is an earlier copy made from a Song dynasty original, reprinted on premium paper and rebound. In collecting rare books, we value the uniqueness of the printing blocks rather than the age of the paper or binding. This set uses a large-character eight-line block, with finely printed gutters—truly a rare treasure.”
The white-robed Taoist’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he stared intently at the book in Mei Qing’s hands, saying with a smile, “Previously, I was hesitant to believe, and even Brother Zhang only had doubts. But you’ve clarified it so decisively! You’ve truly dispelled the clouds and revealed the sun. I must thank you for this insight!”
Zhang Qizheng was equally delighted and eagerly told the Taoist about Mei Qing’s reputation in the antique world. Upon hearing that Mei Qing came from a family of hereditary generals with great wealth and extensive collections, the Taoist’s gaze grew even more fervent.
“I see. I could tell at a glance that Master Mei is no ordinary man—your eyes are clear and refined, your appearance elegant. However, I have something to say, though I’m not sure if I should…”
Mei Qing recalled the Taoist’s manner when they first met, as if he had sensed something wrong with him. Truthfully, although the Taoist’s words and actions seemed like those of a cultivated hermit, Mei Qing found it hard to respect him genuinely, feeling instead that he was putting on an act—somewhat like a modern-day swindler (though this was just a fleeting thought, and he wasn’t entirely sure what a swindler actually was).
“Oh? Please, immortal master, speak freely,” Mei Qing replied somewhat indifferently. Zhang Qizheng, however, looked concerned, studying Mei Qing with puzzlement.
Sighing, the Taoist said mysteriously, “Master Mei, your bones and spirit are indeed extraordinary, but I wonder—do you have any discomfort at night in your bed?”
At this unexpected question, Mei Qing was greatly startled, staring at the Taoist in disbelief, momentarily at a loss for words.
In recent times, Mei Qing’s greatest concern had been his nightmares, which had become increasingly frequent, almost occurring every night. In addition to the previous dream of being burned by purple flames, there were now many strange images and sounds that haunted him. He had grown so accustomed to these nightmares that he no longer found them unusual, though he always awoke exhausted and mentally drained.
Since he didn’t want Zhong Shu and Duoyun to worry, he had kept this secret from everyone. Now, for the Taoist to reveal it so suddenly, he couldn’t help but be deeply shocked.
Previously, he had doubted the Taoist’s true cultivation abilities, but now, after this remark, he couldn’t help but regard the Taoist with more respect, even finding some of his earlier pretentiousness somewhat mystical. Mei Qing quickly asked, “Indeed, immortal master is truly insightful! Since you can perceive my discomfort, do you have any remedies to offer?”
The Taoist sighed deeply, sitting in silence for a moment before finally saying, “It’s difficult to explain everything… Well then, since we have formed this good connection, I suppose I must defy heavenly principles and offer some guidance. However, my cultivation path is different from yours, and I cannot directly teach you its secrets…” He paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
Before Mei Qing could speak, Zhang Qizheng interjected, “Immortal Master Bai, since Master Mei has come here, recognized the Taoist scripture, and now receives your guidance, he must have a karmic connection with the Tao. I beg you, out of compassion, to help relieve his suffering.” His words were sincere.
After several more sighs, the Taoist finally resolved, “Alright, as Brother Zhang says, how can a monk turn away someone in distress? Master Mei, although I cannot directly guide you, I do have a younger brother whose cultivation path aligns more closely with your needs. However, my brother has a rather peculiar personality—please do not take offense. I shall have someone escort you to him immediately.” Saying this, he called for Mingyue outside the courtyard, instructing him to lead Mei Qing and Zhang Qizheng to the western wing, then closed his eyes and fell silent.
After bidding farewell to the Taoist, the two followed Mingyue out. Zhang Qizheng was visibly delighted, whispering to Mei Qing, “It’s truly your blessing from the Three Pure Ones! I’ve long desired guidance from Immortal Master Bai, offering countless incense donations before finally receiving a single word from him. Only recently did I begin studying under him. Yet you, upon arrival, not only received his recognition but also his proactive guidance. Truly, I envy you!”
Though Mei Qing remained skeptical, he followed Mingyue toward the western wing.
No sooner had the two left the courtyard than the white-robed Taoist inside was already cradling the Song edition ‘Yun Ji Qi Qian’ and caressing it lovingly. His eyes gleamed with a golden light, and drool nearly dripped from his mouth—utterly unlike the lofty immortal he had pretended to be. Had Mei Qing and the others looked back at that moment, they would have been utterly stunned.
Qingfeng beside him said, “Master, if that young gentleman discovers he’s been deceived and comes back to confront us, won’t our scheme be exposed? That young man doesn’t seem easily fooled, and his family background is no ordinary one.”
The Taoist reluctantly put down the book, grabbed his fly whisk from the side, and angrily tapped Qingfeng with it, saying, “You little brat, what do you know? If it weren’t for my skills and silver tongue, how could I fool a few fools into learning some ‘immortal techniques’ and buying my ‘immortal pills’ to earn some silver? I’ve heard of this Master Mei before; he’s a wealthy young man. Anyway, your Second Uncle in the western courtyard practices harmless techniques and sells safe pills. At the very least, they’ll help him sleep better. How can that be called deception?”
Qingfeng chuckled and said, “Still, Master, you’re truly amazing. That young man looked quite sharp, yet you convinced him with just a few words. At first, I saw him being dismissive, but the moment you spoke, his expression changed completely.”
Seeing the admiration in Qingfeng’s eyes, the Taoist became even more pleased, chuckling smugly as he stroked his beard, “You see, Master Mei is young and handsome, and I’ve heard his parents passed away early, leaving him without guidance. With his good looks and youth, I suspect he’s been indulging in nightly pleasures. Look at his tired eyes and dark circles—clear signs of insufficient rest. Young men often don’t know how to take care of themselves and can’t help showing off in bed. A few well-placed words, and he’ll fall right into my trap. My observational skills will take you a lifetime to match, hehe. Once he believes me, the rest is easy. When he meets your Second Uncle, if he joins our sect, that’s best. If not, even if he just practices some of our ‘immortal techniques’ or buys some ‘golden pills,’ we’ll still make a few taels from his incense money.”
Qingfeng’s admiration deepened, and he showered his master with flattery. The Taoist’s eyes nearly disappeared in his wide grin as he said, “Alright, you little brat, no need for more praise. Once your Second Uncle gets some income, I’ll buy you a few new Taoist robes. Now, let me put this precious book away—no, better I do it myself. Your clumsy hands might dirty my treasure.”
Of course, Mei Qing had no idea that in the eyes of ‘Immortal Master Bai,’ he had become a case of kidney deficiency. Right now, he was sitting on a meditation cushion in the western wing with an enthusiastic Zhang Qizheng, watching a short, fat Taoist gesturing wildly while delivering a lecture. The fat Taoist was surrounded by various books, diagrams, small boxes, sachets, and talisman-infused water, each labeled with colorful tags. As he reached the most exciting part, he spat while speaking, his small eyes gleaming with intense light. Mei Qing could only stare in disbelief, torn between laughter and exasperation.
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