"Why do you still live in this hovel?" he asked brusquely.
"Because it is my house," was the simple reply. "I belong here."
"I have built you a palace that even would have delighted Kubla Khan. He, too, loved scented pine trees."
"He was an emperor; I, a coolie."
"You are a coolie no longer. Heed my words, live in the house you deserve. I have spoken; it is the least you can do to obey."
Fo Wen found the conversation distasteful. He was amazed that he felt so little awe in the presence of this god whom he had worshipped for so many years. He thought of the words of Lao Tzu:
Supreme virtue is like pure water.
It is beneficial to all and harmful to none.
It seeks the lowly places abhorred by men.
He, too, had dwelt in the lowly places yet the God of Scented Pine Trees wished to lift him up to the cold lonely heights of grandeur. Possession of earthly treasures is not enough. If the mind be not fed, what use a fat sleek body! Again he thought of Lao Tzu:
The wise man retires quietly from the outer world.
It is then that he experiences the Divine Tao.
When soul and spirit are harmoniously united
They will ever remain one.
So was it with Fo Wen and his wife, Mei Mei. She had dwelt with him happily for years in the mud and bamboo hut. To him it sang gently of her presence. Here she was near him. Fie wished no other abode.
But the God of Scented Pine Trees was urgent. Why should the welfare of one poor coolie mean so much to him?
"Tell me," he asked abruptly, "were you once, long ages ago, a member of the Fo clan?"
The god shuddered at the mere thought of such a thing.
"I am an immortal," he said haughtily. "Immortals belong to no clan."
"Then why do you bestow gifts upon me?"
"I am your god. You worship me. You are indeed a worthy man."
"And do you bestow gifts on all who worship you?"
That was a poser. The god might have answered yes with more than a modicum of truth, for Fo Wen was his only worshipper, the slender thread that guarded his divinity.
The God of Scented Pine Trees spoke slowly. "I have come to you because none other is more worthy. You live righteously."
"So do multitudes of coolies in China. He who bears gifts without reason is surely subject to much doubt."
"Wealth means nothing to me. See, I put out my hand and there are gold pieces in it, at my will they appear."
"A magician!"
"In a way," the god conceded. "However, could men live without magic—the magic of flowers, the magic of the little rain of China gently falling,
