Pathway to Japanese Literature

1

"No—he’s from Longxi."

"No—he's from Shu."

"Nonsense! He's from Baxi."

"Don't talk nonsense! He's from Shandong."

"So he's supposed to be a descendant of Li Guang, then?"

"He's a descendant of King Wuzhao of Liang, Li Gao."

The origins of Qinglian Jushi Zhexianren Li Taibai—they remained shrouded in uncertainty.

When rich men die, inheritance disputes flare up; when great men perish, pedigree quarrels break out.

To become either a luminary or a plutocrat—this seemed rather a dubious honor indeed.

Li Bai was ten years old in early autumn.
He became a young servant under the County Magistrate.

One day, he passed before the hall while driving a cow.

The County Magistrate’s wife leaned against the railing and gazed at the scenery in all directions.

The sight of a filthy child driving a filthy cow past without a shred of shame seemed to wound her aesthetic sensibilities.

“How rude! Go around the back!”

Then, Li Bai composed a fu poem in response to her voice.

"Leaning pale-faced against the railing, a delicate voice issues forth; if this be not the Weaving Maid, why must you question the Cowherd?"

The one astonished by this was not the wife, but her husband—the County Magistrate.

He promptly promoted him and made him a page.
And thus had him attend at the inkstone desk.

One night, there was a spectacular mountain fire.

"After wildfire devoured the peaks, men returned—flames remained."

The County Magistrate had labored to compose this much.
He could not complete the verse.

“Hey, you—try adding the rest!”

The County Magistrate said to Li Bai.

Ten-year-old Li Bai responded to the voice and said.

"Flames follow the red sun into distance; smoke chases evening clouds in flight."

The County Magistrate made a bitter face.
This was because [Li Bai’s verse] surpassed his own.

He was said to be a prodigy who recited the Six Jia at five, mastered poetry and classics by eight, and studied the Hundred Schools' works.
Country officials like the County Magistrate had no reason to match Li Bai.

One day, there was a beautiful drowned woman.

And the County Magistrate labored over composing a poem.

"Sixteen—whose household's maiden? Drifting ethereally to lean by shore reeds; birds glimpse jade above her brows, fish toy with vermilion at her lips."

Then Li Bai continued.

"Green locks scatter following the waves; rosy cheeks vanish chasing the billows. By what cause do we encounter Wu Zixu? Truly should one recall this Qiu Hu."

The County Magistrate made a displeased face again.

Li Bai sensed danger and, devising a pretext, resigned from service.

Those petty in poetic matters prove more envious than common folk—let such envy swell, and they'll perform grand deeds.

Li Bai's flight showed wisdom.

He favored swords, sought feudal lords, perused rare texts, and crafted fu poems—such roughly comprised his existence until fifteen years of age.

At twenty years old, his nature was dashing; he rejoiced in stratagems of vertical and horizontal alliances and devoted himself to chivalric spirit.—Such was he in that era.

He disdained wealth and valued charity, did not engage in industry, and roared through life.—It is also recorded thus.

One day he got into a fight and sliced several people.

He could no longer remain in the area.

Around this time, an immortal named Dongyanzi was living in seclusion south of Mount Min.

And so Li Bai ran there.

It is said that Saint Francis preached to wild birds; Dongyanzi too preached to small birds.
He was a Taoist priest.

As he wandered through the mountains, hundreds of small birds came gathering around him.
They perched on his head, settled on his shoulders, alighted on his hands, and clung to his fingertips.
Then they sang out vigorously.

To them he would preach.

Li Bai came to be sheltered there.

One day, Li Bai asked curiously.

"Do small birds understand sermons?"

“Don’t spout nonsense—they don’t understand a thing. With them making such a racket, my first word can’t even get through.”

"Why do they gather here?"

“Because I give them food every day. It’s nice being popular with the birds, but getting pooped on is a real pain.”

Once he went out, his Taoist robe would be woven with bird droppings into a repulsive splattered pattern.

“Where in the world does the purpose of Taoism lie?”

Once, Li Bai asked this.

“So what is happiness?”

“How does one obtain happiness?”

“It’s living long and accumulating money.”

It was indeed a straightforward answer.

2

"How does one accumulate money?"

"There’s no way but to work and save it up."

"Yet despite that—from what I observe—Master doesn’t work at all?"

"Yeah, seems that’s about the shape of it."

"Is there a way to save up without working?"

"Let me think that over properly by next time."

It was an exchange utterly devoid of any real engagement.

"How does one achieve longevity?"

“There seem to be various methods.”

“Would you please teach me that?”

“I don’t know it myself.”

“From what I have read in books, there seem to be various theories such as internal elixir doctrine and external elixir doctrine. When reading works like Baomuzi...”

“Well now! In that case, you’re the scholar here. Why don’t you explain it to me then?”

Li Bai was completely stumped by this.

One day, Dongyanzi said to Li Bai.

"What in the world is heaven?"

"Aha, so he's testing me now."

Immediately, Li Bai thought this.

“In Taoist teachings,” he said, “it is said Heaven is sovereign over a hundred deities. They call it Shangdi, Mintian, Huangtian—also Huangtian Shangdi, Mintian Shangdi, Weihuang Shangdi, Heavenly Emperor—but their meanings are ultimately identical.”
“Heaven stands singular and absolute,” he continued, “its functions governing water, fire, wood, metal, and earth; its climate ushering in spring, summer, autumn, and winter; attended by sun and moon, stars and constellations alike—it commands even the Wind Master and Rain Master. This is how I have come to comprehend it.”

“Hmm,” Dongyanzi grunted. “Sounds mighty complicated.”
“Doesn’t seem that way from where I’m standing.”
“Blue and perfectly round it is—edges drooping down over the earth.”
“That’s about the only way I can see it.”

Even Li Bai was left speechless at this.

"What do you think about the earth?"

While thinking this was idle talk, he had to answer seriously.

"The earth is the mother of all things. People, livestock, fish, insects, mountains, rivers, plants, and trees—all are born from it and die into it. It is what kings revere most, and I have read in books that they perform rituals at Fangze on the winter solstice."

"What you're saying is so complicated."
"It doesn't look that way to me."
"It just looks like a filthy thing with a strange color and weird bumps to me."

To this too, Li Bai had nothing to say.

“What do you think about human nature?”

“Yes, according to Confucius: ‘Human nature is upright. Those born into deceit survive only by luck.’ That’s how I recall it being written. However, Mencius advocated innate goodness, and Xunzi advocated innate evil. But Gaozi advocated the theory of potential nature, and it is said that Yang Xiong, Han Yu, and others proposed a mixed theory.”

“But that’s others’ theories—it’s not your own, is it?”

“Ah, that’s right, isn’t it?”

“So, what do you think?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Think until you understand.”

“Then, what does Master think about it?”

“Me? I say it’s better not to ponder such trifling matters. What folks call metaphysical speculation—it’s just clutter that needlessly muddies the world.”

At this, Li Bai somehow felt as though he had been taught something.

“If you eat nothing but unappetizing food，your flesh will waste away and you’ll become thin.”
“Eat good food! Eat good food!”

Even as he said this with his mouth, Dongyanzi was calmly eating barnyard grass, millet, foxtail millet, and such.

"You should wear fine clothes."
"Otherwise you'll be made a fool of by others."

Even as he said this, Dongyanzi wore the same single filthy Taoist robe throughout the entire year.

“Make something of yourself, make something of yourself! Find yourself a good patron.”

Even as he said this, Dongyanzi made no move to leave the mountain.

He was a man whose words and deeds did not align.

That, on the contrary, was magnificent.

He frequently employed paradoxes.

Li Bai was gradually influenced.
His unconventional and unrestrained spirit transformed into a lighthearted and free-spirited spirit.

One day, Dongyanzi suddenly said.

“What do you think about the mountains and rivers?”

“Mountains are heaped-up earth, rivers are flowing water—that’s how it seems to me.”

“Come now, you’ve graduated. Leave the mountain and go out into the world.”

And so, the next day, he left Mount Min.

3

It was the Kaiyuan 12th Year.

Li Bai set out and wandered through Xianghan.
First he went to South Dongting, reached Jinling and Yangzhou in the west, and then became a guest in Ruhai.
Then he returned and rested in Yunmeng.

At this time, he got married.
The wife was the granddaughter of Minister Xu.
They lived together for several years.

In the Kaiyuan 23rd Year, he wandered leisurely through the Taiyuan region.
He drank wine with Geshu Han and others.
He also visited places like Jinci Temple with figures such as Yuan Canjun of Qiao Commandery, taking along beautiful courtesans.

Eventually, he left and went to Qilu, establishing a home in a place called Rencheng.
He gathered with people like Kong Chaofu, Pei Zheng, Zhang Shuming, Tao Mian, and Han Zhun on Mount Culai to drink wine, calling themselves the Six Idlers of Bamboo Brook.

Thus came the Tianbao 1st Year.

At this time, Li Bai was forty-two years old, and his poetic artistry had reached full maturity.

He set out for Kuaiji.

In Shanzhong, there was a Taoist priest named Wu Yun.

The two got along famously.
They decided to start living together.

Compared to Dongyanzi, Wu Yun had a somewhat philistine aspect.
Precisely because of this, his name was widely known.

The emperor at that time was Xuanzong.

“We would very much like to meet Wu Yun of Shanzhong.”

He let slip such words to his attendants.

An imperial envoy was dispatched to Wu Yun.

He had to go out.
“Hey, you come along too.”
“Alright, I’m in. Let’s go together.”

Li Bai promptly decided to go.

Before long, the two arrived in Chang'an.

In Chang'an, he became close with He Zhizhang.

He Zhizhang, upon seeing Li Bai for the first time, said in astonishment:

“Are you a human or an immortal?”

“Well, I still seem to be human after all.”

“When an immortal mistakenly becomes human, they would likely take on an appearance like yours.”
“You’re a Banished Immortal.”

“Well now, look at this—the Banished Immortal’s poem.”

Li Bai took out old manuscripts and showed them.

He Zhizhang was completely overwhelmed.

"He goes and creates such marvelous things."
"This guy’s not quite human."
"When someone like you comes along, my popularity takes a nosedive."
"But, well, that’s a fine thing."
"Long live this glorious age, with literary fortunes flourishing! I shall enthusiastically introduce you to my friends."

"Got anyone worth talking to?"

"There’s a fellow named Du Fu who’s somewhat worth talking to."

"Haven’t heard of that fellow."

“But go meet him—he’s an interesting fellow. Though he’s a bit neurotic.”

“I can’t stand that sort of fellow.”

“Now now, don’t say that—just go meet him. You might find common ground with him. Or perhaps he might prove a worthy rival.”

“How old is this fellow anyway?”

“Well now... about twelve years younger than you.”

“Not interesting at all—he’s just some greenhorn.”

“This on-again-off-again business is just you prejudging without trying, you know.”

“Well, ain’t no help for it. I’ll meet him if I must.”

Du Fu was from a prestigious family.

He was a descendant of Jin's Du Yu, who was renowned for his mastery of the Zuo Zhuan.
His great-grandfather Yiyun had been the magistrate of Gong County, and his grandfather Shenyan had served as Assistant Director of the Banqueting Court.
Shenyan was a first-class great poet who vied for fame with Shen Quanqi and Song Zhiwen, a leading figure in the Early Tang poetry scene.

His father Xian served as magistrate of Fengtian and was renowned as a fair-minded individual.

Du Fu was quite arrogant.
Despite being weak, he put on airs of a hero and had the makings of a delinquent youth.
His capacity for love and hatred was violently intense.
Moreover, he was in the early stages of tuberculosis.
He strived for career advancement and social success.
His complexion was pale, his lips lead-colored.
He was always clenching his lips.
His eyes for judging people were dangerous.
It was an oddly dangerous gaze that seemed to see through others' weaknesses and latch onto them.
He had an intimidating way of speaking.
Yet he would immediately speak of things that brought him to tears.

He was by no means a likable person.

Physically, he was anemic; temperamentally, he was sanguine.

He was always voicing complaints.

But unexpectedly, he was scrupulously dutiful and keenly felt others' kindness.

He was deeply loyal.

If we exclude scrupulous dutifulness, he fit perfectly into the modern artist type.

His childhood was unclear.

However, if one can trust his poetry—and there’s no reason not to—it appears he began composing verse around the age of seven.

In my fourteenth or fifteenth year, I ventured into literary arenas where refined scholars like Cui Wei compared me to Ban Yang himself. At seven my thoughts matched maturity; by nine I wrote in grand characters; my compositions filled a satchel.

This is the evidence.

"From age seven onward through forty years have passed; approximately over a thousand poetic compositions."

Such things are also recorded.

In the Kaiyuan 19th Year at age twenty, he wandered through the Wu-Yue region.

After spending four years in wandering, around the Kaiyuan 23rd Year [735 CE], he took the tribute examination in Jingzhao.

But he repeatedly failed the exams.

4

He was utterly disheartened.

He returned to his father in Fengtian.
He gazed at Mount Tai and voiced his discontent.

He wandered aimlessly for two years.
Then he wandered through Qi and Zhao.
Then he came to Chang'an.

The meeting between Li Bai and Du Fu proceeded remarkably smoothly, not nearly as worrisome as He Zhizhang had feared.

After the meeting, Li Bai said to He Zhizhang,
"He's quite down-to-earth.
"That's also his strong point.
"As a poet, he's the foremost of our age."

Du Fu also said.

“Indeed，that person is the Banished Immortal.”
I was utterly flustered.
As a poet he was first-rate—someone like me could never hope to catch up.

Thus，they held each other in high esteem.

Li Shizhi, Ruyang, Cui Zongzhi, Su Jin, Zhang Xu, He Zhizhang, and Jiao Sui—adding Du Fu and Li Bai to their number—formed an eight-member group.

They drank and drank and drank their way around.

They were what you might call the Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup.

Though they didn't drink much together, Li Bai and Du Fu maintained close ties with such figures as Gao Shi, the preeminent poet of their age.

The three of them climbed Chuital and Qintai, each becoming engrossed in their own reflections.

It was Du Fu who lamented, Gao Shi who remained silent, and Li Bai who did nothing but laugh.

Gao Shi was fifty years old, Li Bai was forty-four, and Du Fu was thirty-two.

But in this era, Li Taibai's poetic fame surpassed all others.

Emperor Xuanzong said he wanted to meet.

And so, Li Bai was summoned before the imperial presence.

Who recommended Li Bai remains a question to this day.

Some said it was Taoist Wu Yun, others said Princess Yuzhen, and still others claimed He Zhizhang.

Whenever someone rises to prominence, people inevitably start squabbling—"I recommended him!" "No, I did!"—and this was precisely such an instance.

In the splendid hall called Golden Bells Hall, Emperor Xuanzong summoned Li Bai for an audience.

The Emperor bestowed a meal, had soup prepared, and issued an edict appointing him to serve in the Hanlin Academy.
This was the scene at that time.
The fact that he was so lavishly favored can be glimpsed in these terse words, can it not?

Even after becoming a Hanlin Academician, he made no attempt to attend work.
He drank at Chang'an's wine houses, spouting endless nonsense.

“If you want to meet Li Bai, just go around all the wine houses in Chang’an and talk to the drunkest person—that’s the quickest way.”
“No mistake—that’ll be Li Bai every time.”

People said such things to each other.

At that time, a major incident erupted at the Tang court.

The envoy from Bohai Kingdom arrived and presented the state letter.

The state letter was written in the Bohai language.
The entire court could not read it.

Emperor Xuanzong flew into a rage.

“If they cannot decipher this barbarian missive,” he roared through clenched teeth, “how shall We possibly respond?”
“We’ll be laughed at by those Bohai bastards.”
“Those bastards might raise an army.”
“They will undoubtedly violate our borders.”
“Someone read it! Someone read it!”

The assembled officials trembled and were left speechless.

It was Li Bai who arrived there.
He came floating in.

“Oh, Li Bai! Perfect timing.”
“…You—do you understand Bohai?”

“I can even understand Japanese.
Let alone Bohai of all things.”

“That’s most fortunate.
Read this.”

He thrust out the Bohai Kingdom state letter.

Li Bai skimmed through it once.

“Then I shall render it into Tang Chinese.”

Thereupon, he read aloud in a loud voice.

“The extraordinarily venomous letter from Bohai has reached the Tang imperial court. Since you occupied Goryeo, you have encroached upon our nation’s vicinity, and your soldiers repeatedly violate our borders. We perceive the imperial court’s intentions have now been laid bare. We can no longer tolerate this. Dispatch officials to negotiate and surrender all 176 cities of Goryeo to us. We have desired goods; we shall demand their delivery. The rabbits of Mount Taibai, kelp from the South Sea, drums of Zhacheng, deer of Buyeo, pigs of Zhengjie, horses of Shuaibin, cotton of Wozhou, crucian carp of the Meibi River, apricots of Jiudu, pears of Leyou—you, the imperial court, hoard all these in abundance. Should you refuse to return Goryeo, we shall muster troops and come butcher you. Then witness which side shall prevail!”

The Emperor and all his civil and military officials turned deathly pale.

"If we’re provoked along the borders now," he roared through clenched teeth, "we have no strategy to prevent it."
"What in heaven’s name should We do?"

The cultured emperor’s countenance had deep worry woven into it.

Not a single person came forward with a strategy.

5

Then Li Bai said with a laugh,
“They came to intimidate us with a document; let us send them back intimidated by a document. Summon the Bohai envoy, Your Majesty. I shall draft a barbarian missive before their very eyes and intimidate them into submission.”

The next day, the Bohai envoy was summoned to court.

High-ranking officials lined up with the Emperor at the center.

Wearing a gauze hat and white-purple robes, Li Bai appeared drifting in.
Needless to say, he bore a mild intoxication.

When he took his seat, he gripped the brush and completed the barbarian missive in one fluid stroke.

First, he read it aloud in Tang Chinese:

"The Great Tang Tianbao Emperor proclaims this edict to the extraordinary venom of Bohai:
Since ancient times, eggs have never opposed stones, nor have serpents battled dragons.
Our dynasty, answering destiny's call, has opened heaven and pacified the four seas; our generals stand valiant, our soldiers elite, our armor steadfast, our weapons keen.
Jieli breached alliance and was captured; Puzan cast bronze geese to seal oaths; Silla presented brocaded eulogies; India dispatched articulate birds; Chensi offered vermin-hunting snakes; Polin presented hounds that pull chariots; white parrots arrived from Heling; luminous pearls were tributed from Linyi; Guligan yielded famed steeds; Shenpoluo presented choice vinegar.
Those trembling at our might and drawn to our virtue purchase peace without exception; you spurned Goryeo's fate—heaven's judgment strikes anew.
A hundred-generation reign shall perish ere dawn breaks.
Does this not manifest both heaven's wrathful portent and a clear mirror held to your overreach?
Moreover, you constitute but a petty realm beyond the waves—Goryeo's vassal—that compared to China equals mere county stature.
Your soldiers, steeds, fodder and provisions scarce reach one ten-thousandth measure.
The mantis' fury may rage fierce, yet falls short of the goose's insolent pride.
When celestial troops descend, blood shall flow across a thousand li; you'll join Jieli in captivity, your nation succeeding Goryeo's ruin.
Now when imperial mercy flows boundless, your madness finds pardon.
Swiftly repent transgressions; devoutly observe annual rites; shun becoming execution's fodder and barbarians' jest.
Ponder this thrice.
Thus we admonish."

It was truly magnificent.

The Emperor was utterly delighted.

Thereupon, Li Bai descended the steps and approached the Bohai envoy.
He read it aloud in the barbarian tongue exactly as written.

It is said the Bohai envoy turned ashen-faced, performed ritual prostrations, and withdrew—this seems entirely plausible.

The extraordinary venom—that is, the King of Bohai—is also said to have returned in astonished submission.

“I’ve grown tired of even Chang’an’s wine.”

And then, Li Bai requested his leave.

The Emperor bestowed gold upon Li Bai.

Li Bai's wandering began.
From Zhao, Wei, Yan, and Jin in the north to Bin and Qi in the west, he extended his travels.
He traversed Shangyu and arrived in Luoyang.
In the south, he entered Kuaiji from Huaisi and at times kept a home in Luzhong.
He traveled between Qi and Lu.
He stayed in Liang and Song for an extended period.

In Tianbao 13th Year (754 CE), he wandered through Guangling, encountered Wei Wan of Mount Wangwu, floated a boat into Qinhuai, and went toward Jinling.

He parted ways with Wei Wan and also went to Xuancheng.

Thus came the Tianbao 14th Year.

An earth-shattering incident occurred.

An Lushan rebelled.

In December, they captured Luoyang.

In the Tianbao 15th Year, Emperor Xuanzong abandoned Chang'an in a cloud of dust and entered Shu.

Li Bai's circumstances had become perilous.
From Xuancheng he went to Piaoyang, proceeded further to Shanzhong, and entered Mount Lu.

Emperor Xuanzong's sixteenth son, Prince Yong, was an ambitious man, but he greatly admired Li Bai's talents and promoted him to become his staff officer.

In collusion with An Lushan, Prince Yong raised the banner of rebellion.
Prince Yong, leading his younger brother Xiangcheng Wang and a naval force, headed east toward Jianghuai.

Li Bai was splendidly cheerful.

"Hmm, the Mandate of Heaven turns like a wheel."
"It wouldn't be impossible for me to become Son of Heaven."

He thought of such things.

This could be called a poet's characteristic daydream, or perhaps seen as his unbridled nature shattering immortal bones to come surging forth.

His spirits soared triumphantly.
He likened himself to Xie An.
The true essence of Li Bai—the man who had slain someone in his twenties—now danced forth with vivid intensity.

"The northern barbarians of Three Rivers riot like tangled hemp; all under heaven flees southward as in Yongjia's chaos. But employ Xie Anshi of Mount Dong—for your sake, with laughter and conversation I shall pacify the barbarian sands."

He swelled with pride at such proclamations.

"Let me try borrowing Your Highness's jade horsewhip; commanding barbarian hordes while seated at a jade banquet—the southern wind sweeps away barbarian dust in stillness, then entering Western Chang'an to reach the extended sun."

He indulged in imagining the day of his triumphant return.

However, in Henan Province, Pacification Judge Li Xian had been stationed at Guangling.
Li Xian ambushed and crushed Prince Yong's naval force.

Prince Yong's army was shattered like brittle jade.

Prince Yong was struck by an arrow, captured, and executed at a desolate post station.
And then Xiangcheng Wang, his younger brother, was struck down by the murderous blades of rebel soldiers.

Li Bai fled and hid in Fengze, but was caught and thrown into jail.

"I guess it can't be helped—it was all a dream."

He muttered dejectedly.

“Commanding troops proves more difficult than composing verse.
So it seems Xie An was greater than I as a killer.
I'll resolve not to even indulge in fantasies about the monarch’s jade horsewhip anymore...
I might get killed after all.
After all, I'm a rebel. I want to go see Lake Dongting again.
I want to try eating Songjiang bass.
What became of my wives and children?
How many wives did I have?
Ah, right—there should have been four."

Li Bai became slightly sentimental.

It was only natural—he was fifty-seven years old.

Li Bai was liked by everyone.

Various people pleaded with Emperor Suzong to spare his life.

Commissioner Cui Huan, Censor Song Ruosi, and Guo Ziyi with his illustrious military exploits were among the foremost examples.

Therefore, Li Bai was pardoned from death and was to be exiled to Yelang.

Along the way, he wandered leisurely through places like Dongting Lake, the Three Gorges, and Wu Mountains.

Li Bai remained resolutely Li Bai.
Even when exiled, he did not grieve.
In fact, he grew even more like an immortal.
Having learned through this recent incident that the achievements of human society were utterly unsuited to him, he came to disregard even human society itself.

In the second year of Qianyuan, there was a great amnesty.

Before reaching Yelang, Li Bai was pardoned of his crimes.
There he rested in Jiangxia and Yueyang, then went to Xunyang and Jinling.
At this time, Li Bai was sixty-one years old.
He also went to Xuancheng and Liyang.
He wandered about here and there.
He borrowed money everywhere.
Ninety percent of it was for alcohol.

Guests gathered continuously.

Then came the first year of Baoying.

He was invited by a county magistrate and went boating on the Caishi River.

Wearing a splendidly gaudy palatial brocade robe, he exhaled alcohol-laden breath toward the bright moon.

The waves lapped against the boat's edge.

The November moon reflected on the water.

“I’ll catch that moon for once.”

Shaking off people’s attempts to stop him, Li Bai descended into the water.

The water was bitterly cold.
His thoughts shifted abruptly.
How they had shifted remained unclear.
Li Bai strode resolutely through the water.
Soon his figure vanished from sight.
Never again did he manifest in the mortal realm.

“A death befitting Li Bai.”

The people clapped their hands cheerfully.

Dongyanzi was on Mount Min.

Still covered in bird droppings and still living idly.

One day, a somewhat shabby old man came to visit Dongyanzi.

“Master, it has been some time.”

“Who were you again? I’ve forgotten your face.”

The old man smiled gently in silence.

Indeed, he was somewhat shabby, but beneath lay a crystalline dignity.
It was a dignity that belonged to the human world and simultaneously to the realm of immortals—a perfected dignity.

And Dongyanzi blurted out.

“Oh! Are you Lord Laozi?”

“No, I am Li Bai.”

“No, you are Lord Laozi.”

Dongyanzi insisted.

“Please take the seat of honor.”

Li Bai calmly took the seat of honor.

Hundreds of small birds came flying.
They noisily entered the hermitage.

And then onto Dongyanzi’s head and shoulders… but no—the small birds did not go to Dongyanzi; they alighted on Li Bai’s head and shoulders.
Immediately, Li Bai became covered in droppings.

Even now, somewhere in Mount Min, it is certain that Li Bai and Dongyanzi live on, basking in the sun with small birds as their companions.