Chapter 001: The Little Taoist Boy on Mount Zhongnan

Mount Taiyi stands near the imperial capital, its linked peaks reaching toward the edge of the sea.
White clouds close together when viewed from afar; emerald mists vanish when one draws near.
The landscape shifts between the central peaks, while light and shadow differ from valley to valley.
Wishing to find shelter among human dwellings, I question a woodcutter across the stream.

…

With just a few lines, Wang Wei’s poem “Mount Zhongnan” brings before the reader the magnificent scenery of Zhongnan: clear mountains and limpid waters, secluded valleys and deep clouds. Mount Zhongnan is also known as Mount Taiyi, Mount Lungfei, Mount Zhongnan, or Mount Zhounan, and is commonly called Southern Mountain.

It is the very “Southern Mountain” mentioned in the birthday blessing, “May your fortune be as vast as the Eastern Sea, and your longevity as enduring as Southern Mountain!”

Since the pre-Qin era, Mount Zhongnan has been associated with legends of cultivators. Quite a few Taoist temples belonging to the Tang-era Louguan tradition still remain there, and the Complete Reality School, hailed in the present age as the orthodox lineage of the Taoist world, is likewise situated amid these emerald mountains and verdant valleys.

Seen from above, a mountain road wound along a stream, threading its way through mist and dense forest. Beyond the mountains lay fields dotted with crops. At the end of the road stood a Taoist temple of no particularly grand size.

Several narrow paths branched out from the temple. One of them led to a pavilion-like building perched beside a cliff. A plaque above its entrance bore the words “Scripture Repository” in bold regular script. The strokes were vigorous and powerful, still and majestic, as though possessing the miraculous ability to cleanse the soul. Sadly, there was no inscription or signature beneath them, which was somewhat disappointing.

At the entrance to the Scripture Repository, an old Taoist sat cross-legged against the door, reading a Taoist scripture. Inside, a plump and adorable little novice was diligently wielding the whisk in his hands as he dusted the bookshelves. The long-handled whisk was rather unwieldy in the child’s hands. His movements seemed to have some semblance of method, though not very much of one…

The old Taoist set down the Scripture of Wenshi and turned toward the novice inside.

“Little Qing, your body is still too weak. Spring has already arrived, so how is it that your breathing becomes disordered after only a few movements?”

He shook his head, turned back, and resumed reading, not forgetting to add a few discouraging words.

“You should simply stay here and help this old Taoist manage the Scripture Repository. Forget about practicing martial arts and the like. Martial combat is only a minor path. For those of us who cultivate the Tao, nurturing the self is the true way. You should first master the breathing method taught to you by Fellow Taoist Danyang. With your aptitude, I’m afraid you are somewhat lacking.”

Yet the little novice being lectured clearly did not agree. Continuing his work, he argued back.

“I cannot agree with you there, Old Daoist. I knew a thousand characters by the age of three and had memorized the Taoist scriptures by four. Now that I am seven, I can maintain the breathing method taught by the Abbot for a very long time. How can you say my aptitude is poor?”

The old Taoist was amused by this and burst out laughing. He stopped reading, rolled up the book, and said,

“Why don’t you mention that when you were found at the age of one, your face was blue and purple and the cold poison had entered your body? Fellow Taoist Danyang spent more than a year nourishing you with his inner energy before he managed to drag your little life back from the gates of death. After that, you insisted on following the disciples in learning characters and studying the Tao. Then, when you were five, your old illness returned, and you had to spend another year and a half recovering.”

Although the old Taoist spoke in a teasing tone, Qiu Zhiqing—who had diligently practiced the breathing method for more than a year—noticed that the intervals between his breaths were extraordinarily long and tranquil. His speech and joking were completely unaffected.

The novice very much wished to learn this state of being perpetually half-meditative himself. Unfortunately, the moment he let his attention wander, his true condition was exposed. He could not maintain it for long, much less preserve it constantly as the old Taoist did.

The life of Taoist cultivation was exceedingly dull. Joking with the old man who guarded the Scripture Repository was one of the few pleasures available to him. But the old Taoist’s immediate decision to expose all his secrets was truly rather unsporting. He had killed the conversation stone-dead.

Old Daoist, you’ve really narrowed your own path this time.

The old man did not continue teasing the novice. Instead, he took three steps and two strides up to the second floor of the Scripture Repository. He had evidently gained some insight from the scripture he had just been reading and had gone upstairs to make notes.

Qiu Zhiqing had long since grown accustomed to this.

The little novice named Qiu Zhiqing had come from a later age. On his way to confess his feelings to the girl he had pursued unsuccessfully for many years, the heavens—unable to bear watching any longer—had dropped something on him and sent him tumbling into this world.

The instant he opened his eyes, he met the gaze of a white-bearded old Taoist who was massaging his entire body. The old man’s eyes were filled with delight, and his palms were wonderfully warm. The comfort was so exquisite that Qiu Zhiqing wanted to cry out.

Yet when he opened his mouth, all that emerged was a wailing babble.

And so the story began…

Qiu Zhiqing had not originally been called by that name, but it no longer mattered. Reverend Changchun had given him a new life. Let alone giving him a name—Qiu would one day have to care for the old man in his declining years and see him through to the end.

Bah, bah, what an ill-omened thing to say. The Perfected One was destined to attain the Tao and ascend to immortality!

The Perfected Danyang, Ma Yu, once let slip while treating Qiu’s illness that the boy had been found at the beginning of spring along the ancient Shangyu Road by Reverend Qiu, who had just returned from Lin’an. His clothes had been thin and ragged, and he had been so chilled that he was barely alive. Fortunately, the passing Perfected Changchun had rescued him.

At first, Changchun had intended to leave him with a nearby farming family to raise. But the cold poison had already entered the child’s body, and his life was being sustained solely by Changchun’s vital energy. There was no choice but to bring him back to Chongyang Palace and ask a senior disciple skilled in medicine to save him.

Later, they discovered that the child was unusually well behaved. He often listened to them expound the scriptures and neither made trouble nor cried. Only then did they decide to keep him.

Since he bore none of the useful identifying tokens so often found in such stories, they decided to give him the surname Qiu, taken from Qiu Chuji, the man who had saved his life. Once they had chosen to keep him, he naturally became a disciple of the Complete Reality School. They named him Zhiqing.

His martial uncle, the Quietude Hermit Sun, had explained the origin of the name to him. Danyang had seen that the boy’s fortune was dim and that he was extremely lovable, and feared that the King of Hell might come to snatch him away.

Thus he had named him Zhiqing. The name expressed the wish that he would devote himself to serving the Three Pure Ones, while also hoping that the Three Pure Ones would bless this lovable little novice beneath their protection.

Qiu Zhiqing felt that Martial Uncle Sun was treating him like a child.

Though, to be fair, he was a child now.

After finishing his work, Qiu still saw no sign of the old Taoist coming downstairs. He flicked the whisk a few times, returned it to its proper place, then quietly closed the door and headed back toward the temple. Mealtime was approaching.

He jogged to the dining hall in the rear courtyard. Excellent—he was the first to arrive again today.

The kitchen Taoist laughed. “Well, Zhiqing, aren’t you punctual? I’ve only just put the dishes out, and here you are!”

Qiu did not touch the food the kitchen Taoist had prepared. It was meant for the disciples who practiced martial arts. They rose at dawn to train, attended the morning service, studied literature and the scriptures in the morning, continued their martial training in the afternoon, and performed the evening service before going to bed. This routine would continue until they were capable of conducting the morning and evening services on their own.

Only then would they truly have entered the gates of the Complete Reality School. At this time, the famous Zhao Zhijing, Yin Zhiping, and the others had only recently joined and were of the same rank as Qiu Zhiqing: novices. Still, they would probably soon receive the true teachings.

How enviable…

“That’s right. What day have I ever arrived after mealtime? Oh, these dishes look good today. You actually put winter melon in the winter melon soup? What a rare sight.”

The kitchen Taoist was surnamed Wang. He was probably the most fortunate-looking man in all of Chongyang Palace, though he was still far from fat.

Qiu ate several large bowls of millet porridge with pickled vegetables. Before leaving, he also packed a meal for the old Taoist and brought a few steamed white-flour buns for himself. Only then did he bid farewell to the kitchen Taoist.

Seeing how quickly Qiu had finished eating, Taoist Wang could not help asking, “Little Zhiqing, why have you eaten so little today? No appetite?”

Qiu felt embarrassed.

He had already eaten enough for two people, yet Taoist Wang still thought he had eaten too little.

Was he really such a big eater normally?

He touched the buns tucked inside his robe.

These were for afternoon tea!

After answering vaguely, Qiu hurried away.

At the entrance, he happened to encounter a group of novices coming to eat. He greeted each of them as he passed and continued outside. They were all among the disciples recruited after the Complete Reality School had opened its gates to the public. There were perhaps twenty or thirty of them, nothing like the hundreds of disciples who would be present decades later at the beginning of The Return of the Condor Heroes.

None of them were very old yet, but even so, it was faintly possible to see several small cliques forming among them. This was hardly surprising. Some of the disciples came from farming families, some from wealthy households, and some—like Qiu himself—were orphans. Perhaps there was little difference at first, but after spending enough time together, it would be strange if everyone could still get along with everyone else.

When Qiu Zhiqing had first determined that he was living in the world of The Legend of the Condor Heroes, he had been tremendously excited.

Anyone who understood, understood.

However, Reverend Danyang had several times caught him standing to one side and watching the disciples practice martial arts, his eyes shining with excitement. Once, he had even seen Qiu imitate them with considerable enthusiasm. This had deeply troubled Ma Yu, who explicitly told him that he was not suited to martial training.

He was, however, an excellent candidate for Taoist cultivation. He could devote himself to studying the Tao and learning medicine. Perhaps one day, he might even carry forward the lineage of the Complete Reality School.

Qiu had initially been unwilling to accept reality. But after suffering a serious illness at the age of five, he gradually came to terms with it. He had already died once, and then nearly died a second time, and a third…

What was there left to be unable to accept?

When the Perfected Danyang saw the clarity and brightness return to Qiu’s eyes, his heart was greatly comforted. When Qiu turned six, he passed on to him a breathing method, which Qiu had now practiced for more than a year.