The Scarlet Hill/Part 4

by Frank Owen

 

Part IV

Li Po

 

 

1.

After drinking three hundred cups of wine, Li Po felt very sleepy, too sleepy to seek a bed, so he merely slid off his chair into a corner of the almost deserted Bamboo Tavern. For a pillow he used his friend Ho Chih-chang who was in no condition to object; in fact Chih-chang had passed the point where he could object to anything.

It was a tranquil night. The air was lush with the mingled perfume of dream and wine. The whole Tavern gently swayed like a house boat on the Yellow River. Hours passed. The moon slipped into the room through the open window. On padded, soundless feet it crept about the Tavern, peering into every corner until it discovered Li Po. There it stopped, for the moon and Li Po were companions. Had he not written,

 

"I lift my wine-cup to invite the bright moon,
With my shadow beside me, we have a party of three."

 

Li Po stirred in his sleep. His pillow had gotten up and walked away. It was very confusing. He made a wry face. His mouth tasted as though he had been eating duckweed. Through drowsy eyes, he noticed the moonlight beside him. He smiled. His good friend—the moon. He tried to rest his head on the moonlight but cracked it hard against a table leg.

As he rubbed his head, he muttered, "I will wash my mouth in the river and pillow my head on a rock by the running stream."

The blow had sobered him slightly. Where was Ho Chih-chang? He was gone, gone! Li Po sat up and wept. His boon companion was gone. What matter that he was a poet? What matter that the moon was with him? He wanted Ho Chih-chang, he made such an excellent pillow.

Abruptly, he rose to his feet. The floor was no longer comfortable. He pounded on the table with his fists, making such a commotion that the bleary-eyed tavern-keeper appeared from behind a curtain.

He yawned, but he managed to remain composed. He had an eye to business. Never had he had so good a customer as Li Po.

"What would you have?"

"Warm wine and Ho Chih-chang!"

"What's that?"

"My friend. I was sleeping, with my head pillowed on his stomach. I awakened violently. He had disappeared. What have you done with him?"

"Nothing, my friend. I have been sleeping."

"A good shop-keeper never sleeps."

"That is true, but my eyes are not good shop-keepers. Since your friend is lost, you need not pay for the wine."

"Good, I shall drink till he returns."

"Without paying?" quavered the tavern-keeper.

"I've paid with my friend. Bring him back, recover him, breathe new life into him, whatever is necessary, do, ere I die of despair."

"Or too much wine."

"My friend, wine doesn't kill. It educates. In good wine one finds the sages."

"But not Ho Chih-chang."

"He isn't a sage, he's a bad poet and a good statesman who piddles away his time at the Court of Ming Huang. Whatever does an illustrious Emperor want with such a wastrel?"

"Why do you want him?"

"I came in here with him, and I'm going out of here with him. Besides, his mind is as brilliant as the sky on a summer night."

"But you said he was a bad poet!"

"Did I? I forgot, that's what comes of drinking your bad wine."

"My wine is good."

"So is my poet."

"I'll go look for him."

"First bring me a large pot of wine and see that it is warm. I'll fill my own cup when necessary."

"Drink slowly."

"It kills the flavor. Besides, why slow up happiness?" After the tavern-keeper had departed, Li Po settled down to some serious drinking. He had traded Ho Chih-chang for wine. He would not be cheated. Soon he grew philosophical. After all the wine had more spirit than Ho Chih-chang. He wanted Chih-chang to be found but not too quickly. While he reflected over the pleasant, fluid taste of life, he toyed with new rhythms. Bits of jade in the rough, that could be polished later or destroyed.

 

"Last night, I drank a flagon of stars,
I lay down in the blue gutters of the sky
Until the dawn like a spear prodded my ribs."

 

That wasn't good enough. It needed a line or two to round it out.

 

"And the dew of morning poured into my eyes
While the moon smiled."

 

He scowled. It was pretty sentiment, but a bad poem. He'd forget it. Why repeat bad poems when he had composed so many good ones he couldn't remember them all?

With great dignity, he recited:

 

"The rustling nightfall strews my gown with roses,
And wine-flushed petals bring forgetfulness
Of shadow after shadow striding past.
I arise with the stars exultantly and follow
The sweep of the moon along the hushing stream,
Where no birds wake; only the far-drawn sigh
Of wary voices whispering farewell."

 

Now that was something like.

Abruptly his mood changed. He thought of his wife. Too bad he had ever married. He was not suited to domesticity. His horizons were too far-sweeping. He loved the mountains and the sea; the rhythm of forest trees, the silent enchantment of a desert night. At some time or other he had journeyed to every province. It was his boast that he had passed the night drunk at the foot of every sacred mountain in China. And yet, he never wearied of plodding to the top of Tai Shan, the most sacred of all mountains, a mountain that has been worshipped by men of all religions since the beginning of history. He sighed, realizing his deficiencies. He lived lustily and robustly. Time enough had he to pause at every wayside inn. Time for everything, in fact, but devotion to his own household. He quickly drank three cups of wine to banish thoughts of such trivial things.

He glanced up as a wild-looking, mud-smeared apparition appeared before him. Though evidently he had but recently recovered from a bloody nose, the apparition was grinning. After a little research Li Po discovered that it was his friend Chih-chang.

Despite his dishevelment, Chih-chang was still debonair. He bowed formally, seized Li Po's winecup and drained it.

Li Po sighed. "Alas, now I shall have to pay for the wine."

In explanation of his disappearance, Chih-chang said, "Nature called me to the garden to study the bright sky. I stepped aside to let a snorting dragon pass, and fell down a well. Had it not been empty I might have been forced to drink much water to keep from drowning, for I cannot swim."

"Truly a narrow escape," Li Po interposed. "Water rots the stomach."

"Uninjured, I sat at the bottom, wondering what to do. My wits were knit close together. I saw things in a different light."

"From the eyes of a frog," chuckled Li Po. "In my dilemma, I fell asleep."

"Sleep levels the fool and the wise man."

"A line of thought I leave to you. I care not to walk on dangerous ground again. But to go on with my report, when I awakened, far above I beheld one bright star. In ancient days Confucius ascended Tai Shan and esteemed the world small. In modern times, I tripped and fell down a well and the world is still small. Does that not lend itself to meditation? If falling down a well or struggling to mountain peaks is all one, why toil?"

"True, good friend. Had you waited, someone would have pushed you down the well. What need then of exertion? You make me recall a poem I once wrote about Chuang Tzu, the Apostle of Inactivity:

 

'Chuang Tzu dreamt that he was a butterfly
Who dreamt that he was Chuang Tzu!
The same body may change its soul;
Everything in this world is eternally incomprehensible.
The water which flows into the deepest sea near the Island of Immortals,
Comes from clear shallow streams.

The man who planted melons outside the Southeast city gate,
Was, in former days, the Marquis of Tung-ning.
Riches and honor are like this,
Why, then, should one toil?'"

 

"I had to toil to get out of the well," sighed Chih-chang. "After I had saturated myself with the shrunken sky and the grandeur of that one bright star, I rose to my feet. I had no idea where I was. I tried to walk. The effort ended disastrously. I injured my nose against the moss grown wall. Philosophically, I sat down to wait patiently for my world to expand. Finally the tavernkeeper discovered my discomfiture, let down a rope and hauled me to the surface. He seemed extremely happy that he had recovered a steady customer. The sight of him reminded me that my mouth was even drier than the well."

"Let us drink," said Li Po.

 

2.

Toward mid-day Ho Chih-chang was drunk enough to be dignified. Pompously he rose to his feet.

"I must return to Changan," he declared.

"Why?"

"The Emperor needs me to help run the government."

"Are you then a eunuch?" asked Li Po slyly.

"If you value your head," cried Chih-chang, brandishing a knife, "you'll have to withdraw those words."

"I meant no offense, Great-Statesman-Who-Sleeps-in-Well," said Li Po, pretending to be frightened. "You are my friend, Oh Governor of Frogs, but I thought that only eunuchs held high office in this preposterous country."

Suddenly he whipped out a sword. "And now for the Death-of-a-Thousand-Cuts. First I will clip off your ears."

Li Po was a great swashbuckler; the affair was much to his liking. It was lots of pleasure to brandish a sword. "Let blood and wine flow freely!" he cried.

Ho Chih-chang had had enough. Ruefully, he said, "My knife is short and blunt. Let us forget the incident. Come, why not accompany me to Changan?"

"Why should I?"

"To meet the Emperor."

"Is the wine of Changan good?"

"The best, and plentiful. Even rose-wine."

Reluctantly, Li Po put away his sword. "I'd like you better without ears," he grumbled.

"How then could I listen to your words? However, I doubt that you have ever killed a man. I suppose next you'll be saying you are a cannibal."

"No, but if I was I'd only marry plump wives. Although I've never been a cannibal, I've read much about them. One story in particular that I found inspiring, perhaps because it pointed out the extreme dangers of drunkenness. An official of Lin-an was secretly a cannibal. A creditor called upon him. He was very friendly, pleading with him to stay the night. First he fed the creditor to make him fat, gave him liquor to make him drunk. Then he made him into a stew. When the creditor's bones had been picked clean he never bothered the official again for the payment of the debt. At another time, this philosopher had a wife with a vicious tongue. He was hungry and decided she might be quieter if she were well-cooked. While he was preparing the fire, she escaped and complained to a Magistrate. After that, I don't know what happened but I scarcely believe the good wife again indulged in excessive arguing. Being a cannibal has its compensations."

They decided that they would go to Changan on horseback. "Only weaklings ride in sedan chairs," Li Po said. The tavern-keeper secured horses for them.

Ho Chih-chang mounted his horse jauntily and promptly fell off. As he rose to his feet, he seemed somewhat disgruntled.

"A man who drinks should only ride a sober horse," declared Li Po gravely.

Again Chih-chang mounted his horse; again he fell off. After that they decided they would be weaklings and journey to Changan by sedan chair.

 

3.

Ming Huang held Court in the Golden Pavilion. The day had been a colorful triumphant pageant. Never had homage been more lavishly bestowed. The Envoy from Japan had presented him with a painting in the name of his Emperor. It was a superb landscape of mountains and snow, and bamboo struggling in the wind.

Ming Huang was interested. "Ah, by Wang Wei."

"No," replied the Envoy, bowing low, "by one of the lesser artists of my country. A hundred such have taken Wang Wei for their teacher. He leads, they copy. Culture can be built up in like manner. Diligently they have sought to saturate themselves in his teachings. They have at last arrived at the level where they know that mountains without clouds or mist are comparable to spring without flowers; to perceive that one night's rain in the hills is a hundred thousand fountains in the treetops. Under Wang Wei's guidance they seek the fundamental idea. Now, at last, one of them has produced a picture that is glazed with endurance. My Emperor has sent it to you in humility. You have given my people a new impulse."

"I am honored," declared the Emperor, "doubly honored—by having a subject like rare Wang Wei and by receiving this scroll inspired by his works. We, of China, are always honored when other nations are mirrors reflecting the wisdom of our philosophers, the charm of our poets, or the brilliance of such artists as Wang Wei."

Far in the rear of the Pavilion, Li Po watched the proceedings unobserved. He was greatly interested.

"Is it true," he whispered, "that the men of Japan are descended from monkeys?"

"Hush!" cautioned Ho Chih-chang, "that is only a fable."

"What a pity," sighed Li Po. Then he brightened. "What matter? I have visible proof that they are in truth the Dwarf Nation."

The affairs of the Court proceeded. The usual routine interested Ming Huang little. Near by Li Lin-fu, shrewd, ambitious, cold, attended to those matters which the Emperor with a wave of the hand turned over to him. Ming Huang held a few hibiscus flowers which Yang Kuei-fei had given him when he left her side for the Court.

"Come back to me soon," she whispered. He bent forward and kissed the pink fragrance of her breasts.

"My heart," she told him, "is among these few hibiscus flowers. Guard them well."

"Above my throne," he said fervently.

 

4.

Ho Chih-chang bided his time. When the opportune moment arrived, he stepped forward quickly and prostrated himself before the Emperor. Ming Huang was alert at once. After all, was not Ho Chih-chang a poet? Poets were deserving of complete attention.

"Arise, Chih-chang," he said cordially. "See, I step down from my throne. I, too, am a poet. I meet you on common ground."

"That is impossible when men and mountains meet."

"A graceful thought; perhaps that accounts for the clouds that so frequently settle on my shoulders." Then he lowered his voice, so that no one but Chih-chang might hear. "Is it true that the other day you snored at the foot of a dry well?"

"I was alone, your Majesty, so there is no proof that I snored."

Ming Huang looked at him, quizzically, "I was right when I bestowed upon you the title of Ho, the Devil."

"But only when I am drunk. Today, alas, I am sober."

"You can remedy that when the Court is over."

Meanwhile the courtiers, the envoys, the scarlet-sashed ministers, the red-tasseled generals, the eunuchs and the parasites that always infest an Imperial Court waited patiently. Though they could not hear the conversation they were thankful for the prolonged opportunity to display their fine silk and satin costumes.

"Though you are indisputably right when you call me Ho, the Devil, this morning I have redeemed myself for I have brought you a poet who writes like a banished angel."

As he spoke, he thrust a sheaf of poems into the Emperor's hand.

Ming Huang took the bits of paper reverently. Even an Emperor must bow to such delicate brush strokes. As he read them slowly, it was like listening to the hushed voices of mountain peaks and winding rivers, the breathless sunset sky, the wind sweeping the forest like a broom. In the vibrant words were pictures of such splendor the Courtiers about him were blanched into insignificance. He forgot that he was Emperor of China, forgot that he was supposedly presiding at Court in the Colden Pavilion. Now he was a poet, absorbed in melodies as polished as green jade.

Occasionally, he repeated a sentence aloud: "A lovely woman draws a pearl string blind. . . . Now in the east the light is mounting high. . . . Do the white clouds still melt in the air, beheld by no one?. . . Over whose home does the glad moon sink to rest?"

He looked up quickly. No greater gift had he had for months than this.

"What is the name of this poet?" he asked, excitedly.

"Li Po."

"Have him come to me." So saying, Ming Huang again mounted the throne.

A moment later, Li Po came forward. He walked a bit unsteadily, though he could not help swaggering. He smirked at the self-important officials as he passed. What need had he for a tasseled cap when his words were golden and the elegance of his brush strokes might shame even Wang Wei? Nevertheless, he had naught but reverence for the celebrated doctor whose poems were pictures and whose pictures, poems. Under Wang Wei's interpretation the magnificence of landscapes took on new meaning.

Arrived before Ming Huang, Li Po attempted to prostrate himself but fell in the attempt. Ho Chih-chang hurriedly stepped forward and assisted him to his feet.

"Steady," he whispered, "unless you would have your head chopped neatly from your shoulders for affronting Ming Huang."

The Emperor had taken no notice of the incident.

"Rise," he ordered.

Chih-chang had succeeded in propping him up.

"What is your name?"

As Li Po attempted to answer a great hiccough sprang from his lips and echoed through an astounded court. Unperturbed, the poet quickly found speech, "My name is Li Po. Not knowing that I was to be honored in so signal a manner by being presented to your Majesty, I have been indulging in wine to a limited extent. As a plant takes stains from silk, so doth wine remove sadness from the heart. Even your Majesty must admit that when one has good wine, a graceful boat, a maiden to adore, one has everything."

The Emperor smiled. "Wine needs no defence. Its curative powers to obliterate melancholy are universally known. But tell me, Li Po, a little of your history."

"I was born in Pa-hsian of Imperial descent. The family of Li is wealthy, doubly wealthy since I am their son. At ten years of age I could write verses that made older poets to tear out their beards. Perhaps it was because I soared to heights of which they could not dream. . . . I crave your Majesty's indulgence but unless you order the room to cease from spinning round, I will not be able to proceed. Besides it is too hot."

"Ho Chih-chang will show you to the garden. You can bathe your face in a running brook."

"Rather would I have a lake of wine," he murmured inaudibly.

 

5.

Nevertheless, in the garden Li Po attempted to sober up. Ho Chih-chang held his head under Ore clear cool sparkling water. He fought himself free blustering and fuming.

"I swallowed some!" he cried. "Faugh! Water has a bitter, bitter taste. And a fish came up and bit my nose."

"There are no fish in the brook."

By the time the Emperor joined them, Li Po was reasonably sober.

"I am reputed to find poetry in running brooks," he growled, "but that time I found fish. And I have a pain. Perhaps I swallowed one."

However, at the Emperor's approach he was all graciousness.

Ming Huang sat upon a marble bench near the cool brook's edge.

"I would hear more of your history," he said.

Li Po looked at him quizzically. "Drunk or sober?" "Which is best?"

"I have never seen him completely sober," Ho Chih-chang observed.

"When I'm sober," mused Li Po, "I write of mountains with passionate fervor, when I am drunk I leap over them with ease. But sometimes it is only my soul that leaps to mountain tops. Then I permit the tip of my brush to write what it wishes. In grass characters I write the spell of solitude. Last night I wrote: 'We leave the blue mountains behind us, and go forward followed by the moon. Our sleeves grow heavy with dew. We turn to see how far we have come, but the country has been swallowed by a white mist.' Afterwards I grew lonely. I began thinking of my old home. I thought of the first poem I ever wrote when I was ten:

 

'Rain cannot quench thy lanterns light,
Wind makes it shine more brightly bright;
Oh, why not fly to heaven afar,
And twinkle near the moon—a star?'

 

I still think that is my greatest poem though I have scattered verses like leaves over half the mountains of China, for no poem has ever thrilled me as much or remained so firmly entrenched in my memory." "Though I am Emperor of All China, I would change places with you, Li Po," Ming Huang cried impul-sively. "When my reign ends, I will be forgotten but your fame will endure and grow until men in the unknown distances of the earth will breathe it in until it becomes part of them. They'll chant your songs to their children, sing them to the moon on a summer night, and in sleep they will sweeten their dreams."

Li Po was stirred by emotion as he said, "You are now called 'The Brilliant Emperor,' the ruler who recaptured poetry from oblivion. Henceforth this reign shall always be known as 'The Golden Age of China.' count myself blessed to be alive in such an era."

"Before your noble words I am humbled. The culture of China some day will be a light to which all men look up. And the poet who will add great luster to it, is Li Po. I lingered for a moment before entering this garden to talk to Tu Fu. To my amazement I discovered that he was your friend."

"Tu Fu in Changan!" Li Po cried incredulously. "Why I thought he failed in the examinations!"

"But he did not fail in the eyes of his Emperor. I have given him a position at Court."

Ho Chih-chang sat near by, abundantly pleased at the informality with which Li Po had been received by Ming Huang. His interest was intense. He was thankful for the privilege of being permitted to listen. Being a true poet, there was no jealousy in his being; being a true statesman he was inordinately pleased that his introducing Li Po to the Emperor was having such a happy effect.

And Li Po said, "Tu Fu is like an Elder Brother. Who strikes one of us, wounds both. Who honors one of us, honors both. I am deeply grateful, your Majesty that you have found a place for him at Court. He is a marvelous poet."

"And he chooses his friends well. I have only one fault to find with him, he never mentioned that he knew Li Po."

"Why should he? I am but a wanderer, too lazy to work, lacking in incentive. All day long I waste my time in wine shops."

"What matter if the wine be good?"

"I am a connoisseur, your Majesty. Once I traveled fifteen hundred miles merely to taste a certain Landing wine of which I had heard extravagant tales. It was late at night when I arrived at the Tavem. The tavernkeeper was sleepy. Through rheumy eyes in the shadowy hostelry in which only a single candle burned, he took down a kettle and filled a cup with the amber fluid. I drank it eagerly, then I made a wry face. It took my breath away. I thought I had been poisoned but the host quickly allayed my fears.

"'It is onion wine,' he explained. 'No better medicine exists in the world. It spawns a new stomach when the old one is worn out.'

"'Too bad I cannot be sick to be worthy of it,' I said. 'And now, quickly, bring on the Lan-ling wine.'

"'At once,' he yawned. 'At once.' He lighted another candle. He heated the wine well. It was all that any man might desire. Need I add that I stayed at the Tavem until the supply of Lan-ling wine was exhausted?"

The Emperor signaled to Kao Li-shih who loitered near by.

As though by pre-arrangement, Kao brought wine cups. He was followed by three eunuchs. The first carried a lamp already lighted; the second, a table; the third, two kettles of wine. After setting them in place, the eunuchs withdrew, even Kao, though undoubtedly the Grand Eunuch did not go far. Although Ming Huang had special bodyguards, their positions were sinecures, for Kao performed their functions admirably.

Then the Emperor, with his own hands set about wanning the first wine. When it was ready, he filled two cups.

Then he held the wine cup to Li Po's lips. "Thus do I honor a splendid poet," he said.

Li Po drank the wine and smacked his lips. "Um," he murmured. "Good." He acted as though being waited on by an Emperor was a common occurrence.

"What kind of wine is that?"

"A thick wine from fermented grain. It is called 'Wine of Worthy Men.'"

Li Po drank several cupfuls and the Emperor waited upon him. Next he warmed the second kettle of wine. "This clear wine is called 'The Wine of Enlightened Men.'"

Li Po drank, enjoying each drop that trickled down his throat. Then he smiled. "Aptly named," he declared.

 

6.

Meanwhile Yang Kuei-fei was furious. She had waited in her private apartment and the Emperor had not come to her. Was she losing her beauty? Was she no longer alluring? She tore off her clothes until she wore but one filmy garment. She took her beloved bronze mirror and gazed into it. Was she getting too fat? But in the mirror, she could only see her face. Even in anger, it was faultless, despite the absence of her bewitching smile. She rushed out into her private garden. Hedges had been so arranged that she was screened from the eyes of everyone. Even her old Amah and the girls who waited upon her, never came to this apartment until they were summoned. They had no wish to incur the wrath of the Emperor when he desired privacy. Though he was a gracious Emperor some echo still lingered of the early days of his career while the Empress Wu How sat upon the throne. Those who stood in his way were cut down viciously, even while he rewarded well those who were faithful to the best interests of the Empire. Nevertheless few wished to risk the possibility of arousing his anger.

Yang Kuei-fei gazed into the water mirror. The reflection that stared back at her left little to be desired, though her expression was tragic. The perfume in the garden in a measure allayed her anger. Tears came to her eyes. One by one they fell into the water. Then suddenly she threw herself face down among the flowers and sobbed, and the flowers wept with her. Though Lan Jen, the gardener, might have set it down as dew that still lingered from the mists of dawn.

Not for a moment did the Emperor realize that he had neglected his lovely concubine. So absorbed had he become in the conversation of Li Po, he had forgotten all else. In addition, he too had taken much wine. For the first time in many moons he was hilarious. Life was indeed droll.

"Our good friend, Tu Fu," he chuckled, "believes his poems are so powerful they will cure malaria."

"That's nonsense," declared Li Po. "How can they cure malaria when so many of them are about rain?

 

"'O these great mountains. . .
O these great mountains! They are filled with the winds,
And the water in the streams flows too fast.
Cold rain whistles, the withered trees are wet.'"

 

"It is magnificent poetry," said the Emperor.

"But liable to give one pains in the knees. The paroxysmal manifestations of malaria are due to disruption of the state of balance between the Yang and the Yin. Wise doctors know there is no cure save one that contains arsenic. As for myself, I write of mountains in the moonlight. There is no greater poetical inspiration under heaven."

"The Imperial Court is blessed indeed," Ming Huang reflected. "We have Wang Wei who writes and paints mountains in the snow, Tu Fu who writes exquisitely of mountains in the rain, and Li Po whose poems have the brilliance of moonlit mountains. Truly you are needed at Changan. At Court tomorrow I will bestow upon you the honor of a scholar of the third degree, together with a purple robe, a golden girdle, an official hat and an ivory tablet."

Li Po bowed, but remained silent.

He did not think it wise to tell the Emperor that a few years before when he had tried for the Hanlin Academy, the Examiner-in-Chief had caused him to be violently expelled from the Examination Halls. It would be exceedingly pleasurable to flaunt his new appointment before the eyes of the exasperated official.

 

7.

Finally Ming Huang left Li Po and repaired to the apartment of Yang Kuei-fei. She had never seemed more desirable. Warmed by the wine, he took her into his arms. Her anger was spent; now she was sad and wistful and teardrops still glistened in her eyes.

"Why did you neglect me?" she whispered moodily. "Have I done aught to offend you?"

"No, no," he said hastily. "I would not neglect you for anyone. But this morning at Court a celebrated poet named Li Po was presented to me. I lingered in the garden with him. We had much of mutual interest about which to talk."

"Am I, then, to be cast aside for every vagrant poet?"

"When you see Li Po, I will be forgiven."

"I hate him I" she exclaimed.

"How can you hate a poet you have never met?"

"He kept you from me!"

"Is your heart a fragile vase that may be easily broken? Don't forget, even though I love you, I am still Emperor of China."

She refused to be mollified.

"If you have banished me from your thoughts, why not again banish me from the Palace?"

"Because I cannot banish you from my heart."

He tried to grasp her body, inflamed by the sheer silk garment she wore, but she evaded him.

"I want to go away," she said, "I am unhappy here."

"It is my wish that you remain."

"I've ordered a hundred trunks to be packed with my clothes."

"What a pity that you cannot go with them."

"Am I a prisoner?" she stormed.

"Of my arms," he whispered.

"If Li Po stays, I will not remain."

The Emperor wandered nervously about the room, absorbed in thought. He picked up the clothes she had tom from her in anger, priceless silks that were now mined.

At last, he paused in front of her. The glitter in his eyes was not pleasant to behold but he spoke calmly. "All right. Li Po will leave the Palace. He will accompany me on my yearly pilgrimage to Tai Shan. I had intended taking you, but now your actions have ruined my plans. Though you are a gorgeous creature, there are three thousand other ladies at the Palace, many of them with bodies as soft and fragrant as your own. I have been giving them too little attention. Today one at least will be rewarded with 'Butterfly Luck.' In her arms I will find forgetfulness. Within a few days we will set out for Tai Shan. Until I return you cannot leave the Palace grounds. Then you can decide whether or not you are tired of wearing 'half the robes of an Emperor.' If this Palace still seems a dreary place, you may leave it forever, and I'll never call you back though my heart rots for a sight of you."

So saying, he swept from the room. Yang Kuei-fei watched him go, speechless. Never had he been so harsh to her, but she knew from the expression in his eyes that never since she had come to him had he de* sired her more. Perhaps it would not be so bad an idea for him to go on a long journey. She smiled and her teeth were like camomile flowers. When her old Amah came to her, trembling with fear, Yang Kuei-fei was smiling. Once more she was like a little girl who needed mothering.

She loved the way the gentle old woman fussed about her.

Impulsively, she made her a present of an exquisitely carved jade ring. The old Amah had never been more happy, but she could not understand this new mood that had come over her adorable Princess.

 

8.

The morning of the Emperor's departure on the Tai Shan pilgrimage there was great excitement at the palace. From forty thousand horses in the Emperor's stables, two thousand of the best had to be selected—a thousand to carry soldiers to guard His Majesty, a thousand for sundry officials and servants. In addition there would be two thousand mules carrying supplies. The saddles had to be carefully adjusted. Broken saddles might result in executions for carelessness. The saddles were curved upwards both in front and in back, leaving a hollow in the center.

Ming Huang invited Li Po to accompany him. Dr. Wang Wei would go along, too, for a part of the distance. Then he would off and proceed to his home in the quietude of the mountains. His brother, Wang Chin had written that their old mother was desperately ill. The message had come to the Capital by special courier. Wang Wei's wife had died when he was thirty-one and he had never remarried. Thereafter more and more he had studied the doctrines of Buddhism. Despite his sadness he led a crowded life with his painting, poetry and medical ministrations.

While Li Po waited for the caravan to start, he composed a verse called "Song of the Marches":

 

"The Tien-shan peaks still glisten
In robes of spotless white;
To songs of spring I listen
But see no flowers around."

 

At the last moment, the Emperor weakened. He decided that he would bid good-bye to Yang Kuei-fei. If she had not been irritable she might have been going along. It had been his intention to take her when next he had made the pilgrimage. How wondrous would it have been if they could have made the long journey together, camping by the roadside, sleeping under a canopy of stars. Perhaps he had been too severe with her. A woman with spirit was like a feast with spices added. Perhaps he had mistaken petulance for anger.

Stealthily he crept to her apartment. The sight of her clothes scattered heedlessly about made him yearn for her. In the air, he believed he detected the subtle fragrance of her body. Perhaps even now, if she were sorry, it would not be too late to take her with him.

Near the open window, he could see her in the garden. She was singing softly:

 

"As the willows bend,
Orioles sing to me,
Their songs melt into the music of my heart."

 

He thought his ears were lying. It was unthinkable that she should be so cheerfully singing. He was affronted. Why was she not sighing at being abandoned? Did an Emperor's love mean so little to her? Angrily he turned away.

In the courtyard, the caravan patiently waited. But Li Po was restless to get out into the open country where one could stretch without striking a Duke and where there was pure air to breathe.

The Emperor was moody. He spoke little to anyone.

Kao Li-shih gave the order that set the caravan in motion. On the bridles of the horses and mules were small bells that tinkled faintly. Ming Huang rode a full-blooded snow-white horse, a gift from the Byzantine Envoy. The hoofs of his steed were of silver.

 

9.

However it was next to impossible to remain somber in the company of Li Po. There was something infectious in the merry boom of his great voice.

"Is that man yonder with the huge hat Tu Fu?" he asked abruptly.

The Emperor turned. "That wretchedly thin man couldn't possibly be Tu Fu. Why he looks sick."

"Perhaps he is suffering from poetry again."

In spite of himself the Emperor smiled. Perhaps after all it was as well that he had left Yang Kuei-fei at the Palace. She needed to be put in her place. He fought desperately to push from him the thought that her place was beside him—always.

In desperation, he questioned Li Po about his youth.

"It was passed in wandering and idleness. Mountains have been my pillows. The stars my inspiration. The moon my companion. Once a little group of hard drinkers formed a club called the 'Six Idlers of the Bamboo Brook.' We sipped wine, dreamed of fantastic incidents, and occasionally ground out good poetry. How many years ago that seems, in the graying distance. What happened to my companions? Are they famous now, I wonder? Perhaps one or two are Buddhist priests."

That evening they camped by the roadside. They ate a meal as sumptuous as though they were at the Palace. Not a detail of perfect service had been neglected. Eight low tables had been placed together for the convenience of the Emperor. Only Wang Wei and Li Po sat with him. Kao Li-shih lolled a short distance away, in readiness to execute the monarch's slightest wish.

They sat on silk cushions in the manner customary in China before chairs were introduced by the Turks. Wang Wei ate little. His appetite was gone, so worried he was over his old mother's condition. He prayed that he might arrive in time.

Li Po and the Emperor drank much wine. Wang Wei abstained.

Under his breath, Li Po hummed softly.

"Sing if you like," the Emperor told him, "let the fields resound to your songs."

Instead of chanting one of his own, he chose a song by T'sao T'sao:

 

"Here is wine, let us sing;
For mans life is short,
Like the morning dew,
Its best days gone by,
But though we would rejoice,
Sorrows are hard to forget.
What will make us forget them?
Wine and only wine."

 

Li Po paused, gazing at the glory about him, his expression reflecting his pure delight in nature. He breathed deeply of the cool, pine scented air.

"The purpling clouds of evening," he said, "flood the sky like wine."

"Why not write a song called, "Drinking the Sky on a Mountain-top?"

"It would be a song worth singing."

Ming Huang was surprised at his seriousness. Impulsively he asked, "Is it true, as Tu Fu has told me, that you are helping combine the three great religions so that they may be welded into one?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Tu Fu over-values my work. There is a bond of deep affection between us. To discover the qualities of a man you should consult his enemies as well as his friends. In my case, tavernkeepers as well. However, this blending of religions is a pretty thought to muse over. Why should it not be done? Sometimes in the peaceful solitude of mountains, I say, 'Certainly a profound religion is in the air, a feeling such as one might have who was able to walk about the roads of the sky, but I've never been able to discover the name of the religion responsible for this sublime feeling that life is good and all is well."

Night dropped over them. The sky was perfumed with stars. The breeze made way for a wind of aweinspiring cold.

At moonrise, Li Po said, "The moon is a mirror flying across the sky."

Ming Huang sighed, for the sky itself was a vast mirror in which, no matter in whatsoever direction he turned, he could behold the face of his beloved. Though separated by distance, she was still with him.

Early the next morning Wang Wei left the caravan and continued onward to Wang Chu'an in the mountains, the subject of his most celebrated painting and immortalized in his poems:

 

"The barren hills creep out above the green,
And autumn floods increase with gushing, still
Before my wicket on my staff I lean;
In evening's breeze I hear cicadas shrill.

 

"The sunset fades along the ford below.
Above each hamlet lonely smoke one sees,
Again I feel that old-world spirit glow,
And wildly sing about my willow trees."

 

When Wang Wei reached home his mother was barely conscious, but she roused as he approached. Her old withered face lit up, and though she could not speak, he read the gratitude in her eyes. Now she could die in peace. Both of her sons were with her.

 

10.

Meanwhile the caravan pushed steadily onward. When they passed towns and villages the inhabitants gathered to watch in reverence the procession of their beloved Emperor.

Now and then, Li Po caught a glimpse of a wine flag before a tavern. He longed to stop for a moment, but he had the grace not to voice his cravings. After all there was good wine in abundance whenever they paused for meals, far better wine than that served at wayside taverns. Nevertheless some slight feeling of nostalgia persisted.

The roads were good, the air was cool, the sky was clear. No vestige of storm threatened. Even so, Ming Huang was impatient. He would have turned back had it not been beneath his dignity. If Yang Kuei-fei should learn the magnitude of the power she held over him, there would be no managing her.

He thought of the words of Confucius: "Don't become a fool while trying to be a great scholar."

"It is far worse," he reflected bitterly, "to be a fool while striving to be a good Emperor."

One morning, Tai Shan loomed up before them like an island floating in the sky. They quickened their pace and by evening they had reached its base.

At dawn the next morning, Ming Huang, attended only by Kao Li-shih and Li Po, set out on the Great Pan Road that leads to the top of the mountain. They wore the simple costumes of humble pilgrims. The people they encountered along the way were unaware that they were so close to the Emperor of China. All formality had been cast aside. In the road, at the steepest places, there were massive steps up which travelers for endless centuries had climbed, stamping stones steadily into dust. Among them had been explorers from far off Byzantium, Persia, Arabia, India and Japan, striving to understand the inner soul of China. Certainly an Empire so endowed with culture and wisdom, so abundantly supplied with the richness of life was worthy of profound study.

On the mountain-top, Ming Huang and his companion rested. Before them stretched a breath-taking panorama of mist and clouds and mountains. They spent hours in the temples. Later a kindly priest furnished them with tea.

Abstaining from all food, they passed the night near the Temple of the Green Halo Goddess, known also as the Jade Girl, Princess of the Colored Clouds That Announce the Morning, Maiden of Blue Glory and daughter of Tai Shan. Perhaps it was sacrilege but all these delectable titles served only to make Ming Huang think of Yang Kuei-fei.

Near by was the inevitable Temple of Confucius.

They talked only in whispers. Li Po told a story:

"Once at the foot of Tai Shan, Confucius met a woman weeping. He said to her, 'Why do you weep?'

"'My husband was killed by a tiger,' she sobbed, 'my brother was killed by a tiger, and now I am afraid that a tiger will devour my son.'

"'Why do you not leave this neighborhood?' the Master asked.

"'Because here,' said she, 'there is no cruel government.'

"'It is true,' said the Master, 'a cruel government is more to be feared than tigers.'"

 

11.

In Changan, Li Lin-fu beamed with satisfaction. He was rich, he held the Emperor's confidence. Occasionally he used the Imperial Seal for his own purposes. It had been largely through his influences that Chang Shou-kuei, Generalissimo of the Empire and Governor of Kuo-chow had been dismissed from high office. The pretext for his removal was ridiculous. He had protected the Empire well. Neighboring states feared him. Whenever there was an uprising, it was quickly subdued. But it was impossible to be in a hundred places at once and it so happened that one of his lieutenants in a skirmish with the Kitans was defeated. This defeat, the Generalissimo concealed. Why needlessly worry His Majesty? After all, what was one defeat against a thousand victories? Nevertheless the true facts leaked out. Li Lin-fu had been waiting for just such a morsel to pounce upon. Before he had related the incident to Ming Huang he had embroidered it with intricate fabrication. Then with the full vehemence and strength of his oratory he had warned His Majesty that the whole Empire was in danger of destruction.

"If Chang Shou-kuei has hidden this defeat, how can we be sure that he has not hidden others? What credence can we give to accounts of his victories?"

Ming Huang had been eager to get to Yang Kuei-fei. Li Lin-fu had prepared the edict of dismissal. It took but a moment for the Imperial seal to be applied. Li Lin-fu was dependable, a sturdy rock upon which the Emperor might lean without danger of having his sleep disturbed. Li Lin-fu had been tried time and time again. Not once had he failed in his duty. And more important still, he urged the Emperor on in his extravagances. When Yang Kuei-fei complained that the lichees she was getting were not of the best, even though continuous relays of horsemen sped forward their procurement, it was Li Lin-fu who suggested getting them from Canton from whence came the finest lichees in all the world.

Under the circumstances, what need had the Emperor to hesitate to attach his seal to anything his Premier fostered?

Kao Li-shih was saddened by the dismissal of Chang, the Conqueror. It was like destroying part of the very foundation of the Empire. He wept in secret, but what matter? Eunuchs are highly emotional. For him to oppose Li Lin-fu would be as ridiculous as to strive to raise a beard.

Soon afterwards, Chang Shou-kuei had died. Officially it was stated that he had died of a carbuncle. Kao Li-shih wondered if he hadn't been destroyed by the very government he had striven so long to defend.

There were numerous other instances of Li Lin-fu's abuse of power. He had always opposed Chang Kui-ling who had made up the "Golden Mirror of Precepts for the Emperor's Birthday." Kui-ling belonged among the sages of China. Secretly Li Lin-fu acknowledged his strength of character, and so he hated him. He never lost an opportunity to attempt to poison the Emperor's mind against Kui-ling. However, Kui-ling continued in office. He was a dangerous opponent because he was a brilliant poet. He feared Li Lin-fu no more than he feared a lizard by the roadside. He was incorruptible, and without fear.

Gradually the tentacles of the octopus, Li Lin-fu, wrapped themselves around every province of the Empire. There was no one thing that could be used against him to pry away his grip. It was the result of countless small things, many insignificant in themselves. For instance how could Chang Kui-ling or Kao Li-shih explain to the Emperor that they despised him because of the ingratiating way he furthered the pampering of the capricious Yang Kuei-fei? To oppose such actions would be to woo banishment.

 

12.

The return of the caravan from Tai Shan was, in the words of Li Po, as swift as a swallow's wing. Though this was poetical exaggeration the truth was that the return journey had taken little more than half the time, and both horses and riders were exhausted. A good third of the company, unable to keep up the pace had fallen back with the mules.

As soon as the Emperor was bathed and fittingly attired he went to Yang Kuei-fei's apartment. Never had the warmth of her greeting been more sincere. With girdle unfastened, she came to him, weeping at the sheer joy of having him with her again. This time it was he who tore off her garments and tossed them in delicate disorder about the room.

 

13.

Li Po wandered off in search of his friend, Ho Chih-chang.

"Come, Ho, the Devil!" he cried. "Let us fall down a well together, but this time pick one that is filled with wine. I have a thirst so acute that I doubt if there is enough wine in the province to slake it."

"There is a new drink," Chih-chang told him, " introduced into Changan by the Arabs. It is made from the poppy. I have never tasted it but they tell me that one drink would make a poet out of a stable monkey."

"Let's seek it. My tongue is like ashes. Fm anxious to see what effect it will have upon you, Duke Frog."

Several days later Ming Huang inquired about Li Po. That morning certain ambassadors had arrived at the Imperial Court from the East, carrying a letter written in grass characters. None of the Court interpreters were able to decipher it.

Ming Huang was very angry. "What use is the Forest of Pencils," he cried, "if they turn out scholars of such amazing stupidity? Send for Li Po, the brilliant poet who was spumed by Hanlin Officials. Bring Li Po to me, he will put you all to shame."

A hundred eunuchs sped about the Palace grounds in search of the poet. But he could not be found. They returned, nervously excited. In high pitched, tremulous voices they reported to Kao Li-shih, who transmitted their words to the Emperor.

"Your Majesty, Li Po has left the Palace."

"But not Changan," said Ming Huang. "Search every grain of sand and every blade of grass in the city; most likely you will find him where a wine flag floats."

The eunuchs scurried away like white mice. This time their search was quickly over, for they found Li Po sleeping in a lonely road while near by Ho Chih-chang was propped against a tree snoring magnificently.

Without waiting to awaken Li Po, they lifted him up and hurried him back to the Palace, while he dreamed that he was floating through the sky, drawn by six white clouds.

The eunuchs took off his clothes. He opened his eyes and gazed dully about him. Nothing to worry about. These people had no beards. No beards, no enemies. Why fight if a man have no beard? The next moment he changed his mind. They emptied a jug of cold water over his head. As he opened his mouth in protest, another eunuch doused him with a second jugful.

"Ugh! horrible stuff!" Some of it got in his mouth. This was going too far. His anger broke all bounds. He began crashing his fist into those babbling, hairless faces. They went down easily before the force of his blows. When all of the eunuchs were temporarily destroyed or else had melted away in torrents of tears, he was still spoiling for a fight, shouting for a worthy opponent and still very drunk. Stark naked he set out for "The Pavilion of Aloes" where Court that morning was being held. He had heard reference to Aloes as the eunuchs chattered about him. It is well for the dignity of China, that he encountered Kao Li-shih. Kao with his great hands spun Li Po around like a top, and pushed him with no attempt at gentleness in the other direction.

This made Li Po dizzy. He closed his eyes that the world might settle down once more. At the same time his eyes lit up. Here was a new menace for him to destroy.

Now it is true that Kao Li-shih had no beard; what Li Po overlooked was that the Grand Eunuch was six foot nine, with a powerful body. Li Po reached for his sword, but of course in his nakedness, his sword was gone. He lowered his head and lunged forward with the roar of an excited bull. Kao stepped aside and the poet fell in a heap as he collided with a willow tree. For a moment he lay dazed.

Seizing the opportunity, Kao Li-shih grabbed him up and carted him back to where additional water was waiting. This time there was no getting away, for he was securely bound. Before long he was disgustingly saturated with water but sober. Powerful soldiers, summoned for the purpose, stepped forward and dressed him.

"The Emperor is calling you," explained Kao Li-shih. "You do not deserve such good fortune."

Of course he must go to the Emperor, Li Po knew that, but hatred for Kao Li-shih still smouldered. If he hadn't jumped out of the way, Li Po would not have bashed his head against a willow tree.

In the interim, at "The Pavilion of Aloes," the Emperor had turned his attention to other matters. Li Po waited nervously. He was sober but disconsolate. His head felt as though it were falling apart. He undid the button of his robe.

Finally his turn came. At the command of the Emperor, Li Lin-fu handed him the letter for deciphering, the letter that had proved a mysteiy to all the interpreters.

He studied it for a moment. Then he said, bowing, "Your Majesty, I do not wish to take precedence over the Court scholars."

"Be not disturbed," said Ming Huang. Secretly he wondered if Li Po was sober. Certainly he presented a somewhat wild appearance. "This morning has been a sad one for Hanlin College scholars. For them no sun of knowledge has risen. Not a word of that strange missive have they been able to pry loose."

Li Po licked his lips.

"If you decipher those characters," continued the Emperor, "I will grant you anything you wish."

Li Po smiled and his eyes glistened. "This," he began eloquently, "is a remonstrance from a Tartar king, who complains that soldiers of China have violated his borders. He demands an apology."

An awkward pause followed. "If you so wish," continued Li Po, "I would be very glad to attend the Court again, after your Majesty has had time to sift the matter. Perhaps it might be well and according to the desires of your Majesty for me to talk to the Ambassadors."

Li Lin-fu was furious. How dared Li Po make suggestions?

"If your services are again required, I shall so inform you," he said with dignity.

The Emperor ignored the interruption of his Premier. "Your suggestion is excellent," said he to Li Po. "Attend the Court tomorrow morning. Maybe it would be well for the Scholars of the Hanlin Academy to be here also, that they may learn the exacting duties of a competent interpreter. . . . And now you are free to ask whatever favor you wish. It shall be granted."

Li Po gazed about him. His expression was bland, friendly.

"I do not wish much," he said. "Nothing that will drain the treasuries of the Empire. All that I crave is a new pair of boots. These pinch."

"Fetch them at once," commanded the Emperor.

When they were brought, Li Po examined them critically. "They will do," he said, "but only if Kao Li-shih draws off my old boots."

Kao Li-shih was astonished. He turned to the Emperor.

"I have spoken," declared Ming Huang. "Do as the poet requests."

Kao obeyed. He felt hurt that his Majesty should so humiliate him in the presence of all the officers of the Court.

He pulled off Li Po's boots and replaced them with new buckskins which he laced on firmly.

Kao was still on his knees.

"Arise, Kao Li-shih, Generalissimo of the Empire," said the Emperor. "You have been with me ever since I mounted the throne. There is no one I trust more, nor whose elevation has caused me more pleasure."

Kao prostrated himself, touching his head to the floor.

"Your Majesty, may I speak?" he asked softly.

"Arise, General Kao. I am eager to hear what you have to say."

"Though you have heaped honor upon me," said Kao, "gladly would I relinquish it if it means that I must leave your personal service."

And the Emperor said, "From today forth and for as long as he desires, General Kao Li-shih is appointed my personal bodyguard. He shall be in charge of the Palace troops. So shall a decree be officially drawn, to which will be attached the Imperial seal."

Li Po sighed. His boots still pinched.

Nevertheless, he was not chagrined for long. In Changan he made a thousand friends but his list of enemies was growing: Li Lin-fu disliked him because he disdained his authority; Kao Li-shih detested him because of his attempt at humiliation, but far more because he was corrupting an already crumbling court; Yang Kuei-fei disliked him because she feared him. He had made the Emperor late in coming to her, on the morning of his first appearance at Court; he had accompanied the Emperor to Tai Shan. The Emperor was thrilled by his songs, his drinking, his carefree attitude toward life. Often Li Po spent long hours in the Pear Garden, writing words for which the Emperor composed music. When the Pear Garden played the tunes, Yang Kuei-fei danced divinely. When she danced for the Emperor, her fears vanished. His eyes were for her alone, even though occasionally Li Po claimed his ears.

Sometimes she sang as she danced:

 

"The birds are nesting in the rustling trees,
White clouds float gently in the sky.
Alone I sit and gaze toward Ching-ting—
We never grow tired of each other—the mountain and I."

 

14.

Li Po had one other enemy of which he was not aware, an enemy with whom he was not even acquainted. That enemy was Ch'i-ch'i, the magician, who felt as though he were losing his grip on the Court since the arrival of Li Po, for the poet took so much of the Emperor's time, there was little left for itinerant magicians. Ch'i-ch'i, however, refused to be brushed aside. He peered deeply into his bag of tricks. He consulted the stars. He also consulted magicians of his acquaintance. He journeyed as far as Loyang. He distributed? many pearls and jade amulets but when he returned to Changan his face was distorted by a broad smile. Through Kao Li-shih he reached the ears of the Emperor. He had whispered a few words to the Grand Eunuch which were infinitely pleasant. And so it was that an informal meeting was arranged in the Orchid Pavilion in the Imperial Gardens. Only a few attended, the Emperor, Yang Kuei-fei, Li Po, Kao Li-shih. Eunuchs remained in the background.

Ch'i-ch'i, arrayed in a simple costume of grass cloth of indigo color, stood calmly by a table upon which was a medium sized brazier.

"Proceed," said the Emperor.

Ch'i-ch'i bowed. From his sleeve he drew a square of buff-colored cloth. He studied it intently. "Very good, very good quality," he said reflectively. "But it is soiled. It needs cleansing."

By pre-arrangement, a eunuch stepped forward bearing a vessel of water.

"No, no!" cried Ch'i-ch'i. "Take it away. We will not wash this cloth. It will be purified by fire."

Another eunuch stepped forward. He carried a burning paper. Ch'i-ch'i took it and ignited dry sticks that had been arranged in the brazier. Soon he had a glowing fire. Then he seized the square of cloth, rolled it into a ball and tossed it into the flames. A eunuch brought additional wood. The flames leaped up, burning with tremendous heat.

Yang Kuei-fei watched the experiment fascinated. She too was a magician, a magician with perfume. She knew how to use it to the best advantage. In her hair she had twined oleanders.

Entranced, the Emperor sat between these two magicians. He bent toward her. For her ears alone, he whispered, "You are the warmth of the sun toward which the day turns, or the sweet breeze that stirs the peonies. Your voice is on the breath of the wind, and in the night's cool blackness."

She squeezed his hand.

"The legend of your beauty shall linger always as long as rice grows in China."

She sighed rapturously. It was good to be loved by so brilliant an Emperor.

Li Po watched the antics of the magician. He was a trifle bored. In his travels about the provinces he had seen so many exhibitions of legerdemain that they no longer interested him.

Ch'i-ch'i poked among the ashes. Then suddenly he snatched the cloth from the smouldering embers. He shook it in the wind so that all charred bits of ashes might fall from it. Then he spread it out on the ground. Now it was snow-white, clear and clean as the evening sky after rain.

Yang Kuei-fei leaned forward. "Marvelous!" she cried. "Marvelous. Oh, I want it! I want it!"

Ch'i-ch'i bowed gracefully. "With Your Majesty's permission," he said, "I should like to present the cloth that has been purified by fire to the Princess."

"You may do so," said the Emperor, "and I will see that your thoughtfulness is most fittingly rewarded, but first will you not give us an explanation of this amazing fire-proof cloth?"

"With pleasure, Your Majesty, though it is a strange and unbelievable tale. Still we have the cloth in existence to vouch for its authenticity." He did not bother adding that the magician at Loyang from whom he had purchased the cloth had also given him an ancient scroll entitled the "She-chow-ke," more than nine hundred years old. He had studied it assiduously prior to his audience with the Emperor.

"In the Southern Ocean," he said, "a full round of the moon distant from the coast of China, there is a speck of land known as Burning Island, upon which are to be found blue leopards no larger than a fox. If one is captured in a net and tossed into a blazing fire, he later emerges from the ashes, not even scorched. Here, too, is Fiery Forest Hill, habitat of the fire-luster animal. It is about the size of a rat with white hair three or four inches long. On dark nights the reflection of the luster of the animals, makes the forest visible from a far distance. The hair of these animals is woven into a fire-proof cloth by the natives. When clothes made from this cloth become dirty, the natives cleanse them with a solution of ashes. Should this fail, they are thrown into a fire and left there for the time required to eat one bowl of rice, at which time they are withdrawn and shaken. The dirt and ashes fall from them till they are without blemish. The cloth I exhibited to your Majesty today is a product of this Island."

He paused abruptly. Then turning to Li Po, he said, "Perhaps you are able to chant a song more fascinating than my little amusement."

Momentarily Li Po was taken back by the hidden sneer in the words. He yawned to hide his surprise, but it had its effect.

He rose to his feet and stepped to the side of Ch'i-ch'i.

"O Illustrious Emperor," said he, addressing Ming Huang. "What I am about to repeat is directed toward Ch'i-ch'i though I am happy that Your Majesty is a witness of it. I beg of Your Majesty, that you do not blot out the miserable life of this wretched magician who has presumed to issue orders in Your Imperial pres-ence.

Ming Huang smiled inwardly but his face was bland.

"Your plea for a fellow man is noteworthy/' he said. "Proceed with your reply to the verbal challenge of the brave Ch'i-ch'i."

Li Po bowed low. From his sleeve, he extracted a small slip of paper. It was perfectly blank but no one knew that.

"I have here a purple clay document," he said:

 

"'You ask what my soul does away in the sky,
I inwardly smile, but cannot reply;
Like the peach-blossoms carried away by the stream,
I soar to a world of which you cannot dream.'"

 

He folded the paper up and handed it to Ch'i-ch'i. "I submit this," he said, "as a poem that cannot be destroyed."

Ch'i-ch'i closed one eye and looked at him shrewdly. Li Po was bluffing, of that there could be no doubt.

To a eunuch, he said, "Bring me a lighted taper."

When one had been brought, he touched the paper to the flame. It lighted readily. In a few seconds it was burned to ashes.

Ch'i-ch'i turned to Li Po. "So much for your fireproof poem."

"I did not say it was fire-proof, only indestructible."

"I have burned it. Is it not destroyed?"

"Not at all," said Li Po. "Last night I consulted the stars. They told me that a hundred years from today that very poem will echo still in the voice of a child playing in the alleys of Canton."

"He is a charlatan!" cried Ch'i-ch'i.

"We cannot be sure of it," reflected the Emperor, "until we have waited a hundred years."

In spite of herself, Yang Kuei-fei could not help admitting the genius of Li Po. Clever enough to turn defeat into victory, perhaps too clever to be so important in the affairs of the Palace. She smiled. Enemy or not he was undoubtedly fascinating.

 

15.

No matter how cold the nights, even when it was three coat weather, Yang Kuei-fei walked with the Emperor in her own private gardens at the Palace. She was all tenderness, devotion. Since his return from Tai Shan she was changed somehow, more subdued, though still as extravagant in her method of living. And his infatuation for her increased.

As they walked through the garden the night was filled with tenderness. The breeze was cold. The frosttipped treetops crackled like an orchestra of wood instruments. But flowers still bloomed, and there was enchantment in their perfume.

Overhead the bright stars that were known as the Cowherd and the Spinning Damsel glowed brightly. According to folklore they had been doomed by the gods to dwell on opposite sides of the River of Stars which some call the Milky Way. Since there is no bridge across the river, the lovers are eternally separated except on one night of the year, the seventh night of the seventh month. On that treasured night, magpies form a bridge to span the river so that the lovers may meet in fervent embrace.

Ming Huang held Yang Kuei-fei close. "I am the Cowherd," he whispered.

"And I the Spinning Damsel. Fortunately, birds are our friends."

"We can never be separated," said the Emperor, "for even though distance separates us temporarily, we can always gaze toward the heavens and meet in the stars."

"My Cowherd Emperor," she murmured, and snuggled up against him.

"Come," he said huskily, "let us go in, where we can remove some of these coats."

Yang Kuei-fei sighed. Somewhat wistfully, she said, "Why should not the air be filled with good spirits, enough to overcome the forces of evil? Why should not the night's black silence be satin-soft with peace and comfort?"

He seemed surprised. "Why do you say that?"

"I thought I saw the shadow of a cold gray mist."

"There is no mist," he assured her. "And the only shadows are those of trees against the moon."

She smiled. "I cannot understand what came over me. However, now it is forgotten. I was wrong, there are no shadows. The night is filled with gentle music."

She started singing the words of an ancient song:

 

"Unattainable stands the star of the Cowherd.
Clear shines the star of the Spinning Maiden.
Diligently her white hands move back and forth;
'Chih, chili goes the sound of her loom,
But the whole days labor is not enougfi to complete her work;
Like rain is the falling of her tears.
Clear is the Heavenly River and shallow,
Yet how may it be crossed?
Separated by the flowing tide
They gaze at each other in silence."

 

Yang Kuei-fei stopped singing. Impulsively she threw her arms about him and buried her head against his breast.

"Nothing must part us," she cried vehemently, "nothing."

"Nor will it," he assured her. As he spoke he lifted her slim body in his arms and carried her in to their apartment.

She sighed contentedly as he set her down on a chair near the scarlet bed.

 

16.

Far off in the mountains, Wang Wei's mother was dead, fallen to earth like a withered leaf in the forest. For weeks her coffin had stood in a corner of her room, waiting to receive her body.

Beside the bed, Wang Chin sat like a stoic. Although his heart wept, he showed no emotion.

Wang Wei stepped forward. On his mother’s breast he placed an exquisite jade ring, and his favorite paint brushes. They would be buried with her. Then he went outdoors and wandered in the mountains. He could feel the insidious death that creeps silent, invisibly about the countryside in autumn. Parched leaves crunched to dust beneath his feet. The trees held out their gaunt bare arms as though in supplication. It was impossible not to breathe in this feeling of decay and destruction. Soon winter would come with its soft cover¬ let of white to hide the scars.

Moodily he chanted a verse:

 

"We parted at the gorge and cried, ‘Good cheer!’
The sun was setting as I closed my door;
Methought, the spring will come again next year,
But it may come no more."

 

Months went by and he did not return to Changan, then news drifted to the Western Capital that he had turned his retreat into a Buddhist monastery.

 

17.

Although the Court usually moved to Warm Springs to escape the cold of winter, it was Yang Kuei-fei’s wish that it remain in Changan. She could not bear the thought of parting from her garden. Under the tutelage of Lan Jen she was studying flowers. She was captivated by the privilege of raising flowers in the snow. Joyous indeed was the Court when snow came. Joyous, too, was Li Po. With Ho Chih-chang he went skiing in the hills. At Changan it was an innovation, introduced by the poet who had borrowed it from the Kirghiz tribe who dwelt above the northern border of Central China. He had wandered into their domains by accident on one of his travels when he had taken the wrong road and traveled for weeks into a fascinating bleak new country. He watched the tribesmen bind wooden runners to their feet and then go speeding as fast as a horse across the ice. These runners were about seven feet long, hand carved from strong tree branches. He watched the sport till his fingers were numb, then turned away and built a fire. Neither he nor his traveling companions were sorry that they wandered so far off the trail, for his companions were merchants. They speculated on whether or not these wooden horses could be manufactured and distributed advantageously. They decided against it. Too hazardous. Nowhere in the world could people be found who would risk their necks in such foolhardy undertakings, except these mountain tribesmen who unfortunately were already equipped.

But in Changan that winter, skiing was popular. Li Po sped along as though in pursuit of the wind. His great voice boomed out sonorously. As he marched up hill again, he chanted his poems. Then came the plunge downward like leaping into the sky. Suppose the stars were silver hooks, he thought, and he could fly up and grab on to one. How amazed would the Emperor be to see him dangling nonchalantly in the sky. At times he imagined he was a bird flying across the snow. Occasionally, it is true, his feet got a little mixed up and he crashed down in an undignified heap.

He rose, groaning. "I have so many cuts and bruises," he cried, "I look as though I were tattooed." But that did not deter him from climbing the hilltop once more, for another snow-flight.

As for Ho Chih-chang, he, too, occasionally met with disaster. There was scarcely a snow bank along the way which he had not explored headfirst.

Afterwards they went to a tavern and sat down to gargantuan feasts. Li Po was an enormous eater. After skiing, his capacity was one with the crater of a volcano. They drank wine until it almost flowed from their ears.

Yang Kuei-fei heard of this new sport. She begged the Emperor to go with her to watch. Their sedan chairs were lined with ermine.

As he observed the antics of Li Po, the mighty athlete, he could not help smiling. Truly Li Po was a man to match the mountains and the sea. Master of everything he touched, except Hanlin College, and even the Hanlin he had made appear ridiculous. Ming was not offended because Li Po made so little effort to make friends among the members of the Court. Most of them, he appraised at their true value.

"Rather," he once exclaimed, "would I make friends with the monkeys in the stables."

Li Po hated the eunuchs. He believed that they were the real power behind the throne. Even Li Lin-fu with his evil conniving, with his disgusting habit of replacing all the officers who would not bow before him with his own friends or with simpletons who merely echoed his words, was no more powerful than Kao Li-shih. His new title of Generalissimo was not one tenth as important as that of Grand Eunuch. Li Po quite overlooked the fact that of all the Ministers not one was as unswerving in his loyalty to the Emperor as Kao Li-shih. Though it is true that Kao was rich, so was Ming Huang in having so powerful a prop on which he could lean.

Yang Kuei-fei begged the Emperor to let her try skiing. At first he would not listen to her, but she pleaded. As he looked into her face which the cold etherealized, he finally capitulated.

His heart nearly stopped beating as he watched her poised at the crest of the hill. What a fool he was! She would be killed. Then she sprang forward, speeding down the hill like a flower in the wind's embrace. Ho Chih-chang, who came after her, turned off abruptly into a pile of snow. Li Po, with a mighty bellow, launched himself magnificently, but soon fell apart. As he crashed and bumped down the hill, he felt as if his remains were being distributed along the ski-way piece by piece. It is not pleasant to have the consciousness of being akin to a broken necklace.

Yang Kuei-fei finished her descent gracefully. Then, laughing, back up the hill she went, her skis slung over her shoulder.

For almost an hour, with sparkling eyes, she continued the sport. Never once did she fall. Perhaps the balance and rhythm she had learned in dancing helped her now.

She would not leave the hillside until the Emperor declared his feet were frozen and threatened to return to the Palace without her. That day marked the first occasion when she had ever been really friendly toward Li Po.

 

18.

As months sped by, Li Po gave himself up to a career of poetry and dissipation, but nobody despised him for that. Did not even nuns frequently get tipsy and priests drown their worries in wine? It was an age in which intoxication was considered highly complimentary and officials who were physically unable to stand the strain of excessive drinking invariably hired substitutes to get drunk in their stead. The T'angs distinguished five types of intoxication:

"Wine may fly to the heart and produce maudlin emotions; or to the liver and incite pugnacity; or to the stomach and cause drowsiness; or to the lungs and induce hilarity; or to the kidneys and incite desire."

At some time or other Li Po had indulged in them all. Occasionally when he was drunk and his money exhausted, he wrote his best poems which he bartered in exchange for wine. Unlike Tu Fu, who wrought his poems with the study and care of a carver of fine jade, he dashed verses off by pure inspiration from the wellsprings of his traveler's mind. These immortalized scraps of paper were hidden away and treasured by the tavern-keepers, to be brought out and mulled over whenever the need for beauty was upon them. They gazed in awe upon Li Po whom they called, "Seeker of the Scarlet Hill of Immortality."

 

19.

Ming Huang considered that no feast was complete without at least one poet at the tables to compose poetry. What use was it to feed the body if the soul lingered hungry at the gates? Songs and dances, roast duck and pheasants, orioles crisp and brown, young suckling pig and the verses of Tu Fu. Lichees, cumquats, young bamboo shoots, water chestnuts, songs of Chang Yiieh, and almond cakes. Rice wine, grape wine and the booming verses of Li Po to cap the feast. Then more wine, more songs, the fragrance of flowers and Yang Kuei-fei. In her eyes, languorous submission.

One evening when the Emperor lingered with Yang Kuei-fei in the Orchid Pavilion in the Palace Gardens, when the air was heavy with spring and earth, and mei-flowers fell like perfumed snow, when the sun had flung a veneer of yellow-purple splendor across the sky, and the breeze from the North caressed the treetops, when all nature seemed to stand on tip-toe to behold the glory of approaching night, the Emperor sent for Li Po that he might immortalize this gorgeous hour.

Li Po came at once. He bowed to the Emperor, a trifle unsteadily, for he was inclined to be drunk.

"Please, your Majesty," he said, "I have been drinking with Tu Fu, musing over old times. I fear that even against my wishes, my good friend has made it impossible for me to uphold sobriety. Nevertheless, I am yours to command."

Said the Emperor, "I would have you imprison the enchantment of this moment in a written picture, that it need never be forgotten."

As Ming Huang spoke, two ladies of the Pear Garden stepped forward and held up a pink silk screen. The silk had been well sized and treated for writing by severe beating.

Another lady stepped forward carrying an ink stick, highly scented, and an ink slab.

Li Po swayed somewhat, but he set to work valiantly. Before doing so, however, he studied Yang Kuei-fei intently, her moth-eyebrows, the swelling grace of her breasts, the slender beauty of a superb body. Momentarily she was standing beside the Emperor, barely tall enough to reach to his heart. How lovely she was. Li Po took a deep breath. For a moment, he ate ink as he moistened his brush. Never had the wine so excited his desires. Then with a flourish he commenced to write, chanting the verse as he did so. That night he was inspired.

 

"In all the clouds he sees her light robes trail,
And roses seem beholden to her face;
O'er scented balustrade the scented gale
Bows warm from Spring, and dew-drops form apace.

Her outline on the mountain he can trace,
Now leans she from the tower in moonlight pale."

 

Excitedly, Yang Kuei-fei watched the written characters which Li Po was flinging on silk. These verses with their magic rhythms were for her.

Kao Li-shih stood near by, with the hatred of sharp swords in his eyes. Resentment of the ridicule to which his dignity had been subjected by Li Po still smouldered. What use his high position in the Empire if he must be subjected to every vagrant whim of a philandering poet?

 

"A flower-girt branch grows sweeter from the dew.
The spirit of snow and rain unheeded calls.
Who wakes to memory in these Palace walls?
Fei-yen! but in the robes an Empress knew."

 

Kao's face broke into an evil smile. Li Po moistened his brush with his tongue meditatively.

Kao leaned forward and whispered into the ear of Yang Kuei-fei. "Honored Princess, is this enormous insult to pass? Do you not know that Fei-yen, or Lady Flying Swallow, was no more than a sing-song girl whose beauty charmed an Emperor in the days of Han? Are you then but a sing-song girl of Changan? If this slight is permitted to pass, who knows what this depraved poet may write."

Secretly, Yang Kuei-fei had always envied Fei-yen because of her tiny stature. Never was she in danger of growing fat, a thing of which Yang Kuei-fei stood in unnecessary fear. Still if Li Po was slandering her—She had no time to finish the thought, Li Po was writing once more:

 

"The most renowned of blossoms, most divine
Of those whose conquering glances overthrow
Cities and kingdoms, for his sake combine
And win the ready smiles that ever flow
From royal lips. What matter if the snow
Blot out the garden? She shall recline
Upon the scented balustrade and glow
With spring that thrills her warm blood into wine."

 

"He is the first who has ever ridiculed Yang Kuei-fei," whispered Kao. "May there not be others? How can you remain high in the Emperor's esteem if you are the butt for wine bibbers?"

Yang Kuei-fei said nothing but Kao was satisfied.

A few days later the Emperor wished to appoint Li Po to an important post. Yang Kuei-fei rebelled. She withheld her caresses.

"Go to your poet," she said. "What matter that he makes me ridiculous by comparing me to 'Flying Swallow'?" She tossed her jacket across the room. "Behind my back the whole Court is laughing. Go and laugh with them. Let me, I beg, enter the seraglio that I may lose my identity among multitudes of women."

"I did not know," said the Emperor. "I thought all in Changan were captivated by Li Po."

"That is because of all people, I alone am ridiculed. If you wish confirmation ask Kao."

When Li Po heard that his appointment had been turned down, he begged leave to withdraw from the Court. He had beheld enough of festering elegance; the petty intrigues nauseated him. He belonged to the mountains, the streams and the woodland far from the haunts of officials. He did not belong in the Imperial Court.

Ming Huang was anguished at his departure. It was saddening to be deprived of so gallant a maker of songs. But Yang Kuei-fei was unhappy. There were tears trembling on the edge of her eyelids. Above all else, happiness must return to this loveliest of women. As a parting gift, he gave Li Po a large sum of money.

Although Li Po accepted the gift, his gratitude was seasoned with bitterness. When he had angered the Grand Eunuch, he had offended an army of eunuchs. Eunuchs never forgot a slight. And now that Kao Li-shih had been made a Generalissimo, there was an outside chance that all the soldiers of China were also his enemies. There was no denying the high regard in which Kao was held by all the officials. Li Po was nonplussed. All Changan was topsy-turvy, for usually it was he who received homage universally. His regard for Ming Huang was deep and sincere, yet he was not so blinded by grandeur that he could not see the Court was becoming corrupt. He wondered if it were true as rumor whispered that the Emperor had given Li Lin-fu, the Premier, a year's revenue of the Palace as a token of appreciation for his years of faithful service? Or was it perhaps because Li Lin-fu never opposed Yang Kuei-fei who held the Emperor a virtual prisoner, ruling his bed and his heart? Li Po believed it would have been far better for the Empire if Li Lin-fu of the honeyed words had been turned over to the President of the Board of Punishments for decapitation.

 

20.

Seven of his boon companions followed Li Po into self-imposed banishment. Wine was mixed with the blood of all of them, making them brothers. They journeyed onward until they discovered a tavern near which a Judas-tree bloomed, for they believed the tradition that where there is such a tree, there is also good fellowship. Near by was a small lake. In a boat, at anchor, an old man sat fishing. Frost was in his hair, and his beard was fleeced with snow, but he seemed contented, for the weight of years was no burden to him.

Li Po broke boisterously into song:

 

"Old fisherman,
Have you spread your nets
To catch the wind?
Like specks the sea gulls fly
And wavelets sparkle.

Now slants the sun
And shadows ripple cold.
Lift up your head,
The Moon is on the hill,
Your nets still empty
And the day worn out."

 

"Some day," said Ho Chih-chang, who was one of the party, "I believe I shall go fishing."

"Why not today?" asked Li Po.

"Fishing should be done in a grand manner. Why fish when there is no audience?"

"You have seven friends."

"All thirsty, with no eyes but for the wine flag waving.

"Let us enter the tavern," Li Po suggested, reverently.

The tavern-keeper smiled broadly at the approach of eight guests. If he had known their capacity, the smile might have broadened to touch both ears.

"Wine!" cried Li Po. "Warm wine, a dozen cups for each of us."

He turned and surveyed his companions, the small coterie who had preferred Li Po and the uncertainties of a wandering minstrel's life, to the lush splendor of an Emperor's court.

"No care exists," observed Li Po, "that a hundred cups of wine will not banish. If the gods had not loved wine they would not have placed a wine star in the sky. With wine, we drink wisdom. Here we are, eight companions, sages worthy of a magnificent title. From henceforth let us be called 'The Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup.'"

His seven parched companions cheered as their host brought wine. They drank lustily, a few so eagerly that they gurgled.

"Today we drink," said Li Po, "until the sun grows weary. And men will envy us. We have shaken the gloomy dust of officialdom from our feet. We are beyond the influence of eunuchs. Great poets, great singers, all except Chiu Sui who stammers so badly that when sober he cannot say a word. Quick, somebody, help get Sui drunk so he can converse. He looks as glum as though he had been sleeping for a lifetime with a dragon on the bottom of the Yellow River. Why try to talk with a mouthful of rushes?"

The tavern-keeper brought a much larger cup. After drinking five pints, Chiu Sui's tongue was loosened, and his repartee flashed as quickly as echo follows sound.

Next to him sat Li Shih-chih, who drank like a whale.

Li Po regarded him meditatively. "Why don't you go fishing?" he asked, reverting to a previous subject.

"What good would I be fishing?"

"Good bait, if nothing else."

Shih-chih laughed heartily. "No, no, Li Po," he said, "far better bait would be your verses."

Ho Chih-chang asked angrily, "Have you no respect for written characters? You are unworthy to walk the roads of China."

"You misunderstand. I'd toss Li Po to the fishes as he chanted his songs."

"If I ever go fishing," said Chiu Sui, who had reclaimed his tongue, "it will be in the manner of Jen Kung Tzu of old who fished in the sea with a cable on which fifty oxen were fixed as bait."

"Too much exertion," broke in Ho Chih-chang. "For myself simple bait would do."

"For example a hump-backed horse," suggested Li Po.

"Do you think I would want a hump-backed fish?"

"Why spoil the taste of wine by discussing fish?" asked Li Shih-chih irritably. He had been glad to leave the Imperial Court, even though he had been a Minister of State, and had been ennobled as a Duke.

Li Lin-fu, the Premier, though expressing friendship, was jealous of him. He was a good poet, and he imagined that he was a rival. Jealousy is an attribute of puny souls. Lin-fu persuaded him to open a gold-mine in Shensi. When Shih-chih did so, Lin-fu had rushed to the Emperor and told him what was happening.

"Your Majesty," he declared, "Li Shih-chih is a traitor to be drawing gold from the earth of the very province in which your Majesty was born."

Ming Huang frowned upon the enterprise and ordered that the mine be closed. Naturally Shih-chih lost favor. He welcomed the opportunity to leave the Court in the wake of Li Po.

The religious member of the Eight Immortals was Su Chin, a Buddhist priest, who, despite the fact that the tenets of his religion were firmly opposed to wine, enjoyed a good spree. He was a mournful, lovable character. After five cups, he wept in his wine.

Li Chin, the fourth member of the party, had sharpened his ears until he could hear a brewer's cart a li away. He liked nothing better than to turn his winecup bottom up, and forever regretted that it was not possible for him to own a wine-spring.

The handsomest of all the Eight Immortals was Ts'u Tsung-chih, who had succeeded to the hereditary Dukedom of his father who had been ennobled by Empress Wu How. Ts'u Tsung-chih had been an official at Nanking until he fell into disfavor. His banishment was not practical, but absolute. But he did not care. He hated crowds, longing for solitude. Never had he met anyone who more closely typified his ideal than Li Po. He was like a firm young tree as he stood upon a hilltop, braced against the East Wind's force.

Chang Hsü, the last member of the coterie, was also a poet. He had come from Soochow in Kangsu. He was so talented that even Tu Fu had mentioned him in his poems. He was a calligraphist of distinction. Drunk or sober, he could turn out such magnificent grass characters that he had won for himself the title of the "Divine Grassist." But he also was called Chang, the Madman, because when excited by wine he lost all sense of decorum. Even in the presence of Princes, he tossed his cap into the air and roared with merriment until the very heavens shook. But now, in the tavern, he was not more boisterous than the others save only Su Chin, the Buddhist, who wept so copiously into his wine that its spirit was drowned by the tears.

As evening stalked over the fields, and the sun dropped beyond the far hills to die, their conversation slurred off into an unintelligible babble. They drank till they drooled at the lips. Then they started drinking all over again. Daylight faded, stars snapped out, a bright moon climbed the stairs of the sky. On and on they drank, and the tavern-keeper grew rich. On and on. Sometimes the wine flowed down their necks when they missed their mouths but no matter. Wine, more wine.

Ho Chih-chang fell out of his chair, rolled under a table, curled up like a cat and went peacefully to sleep. The Buddhist, Su Chin, was wallowing about in such a flood of tears he was momentarily in danger of death by submersion. Li Shih-chih sat moodily plotting the destruction of Li Lin-fu. He was working out the details of a dignified and profound execution. He would return to Changan with a great sword hidden in his voluminous sleeves. He would seek out Li Lin-fu. First he would bow. Then Li Lin-fu would bow. Then quickly he would raise his sword and chop off the Premier's head.

He confided his plans to Li Po, who was highly pleased, for he had had a similar notion.

"That," he said unsteadily, "would not only be a fitting death but one with considerable decorum."

But, alas, before Shih-chih could set off on his noble enterprise, he toppled into sleep.

Snores were mixed with the babble. Lower and lower the discord became. A few still fought valiantly against sleep. Hours passed.

When the moon melted into the dawn, the Eight Immortals were sleeping and all the winecups were empty.