Weird Tales/Volume 10/Issue 3/The Blue City
"Again and again he kissed this maiden of the strange blue city."
Hwei-Ti sat in his garden. A gentle breeze was blowing, fragrant with the perfume of peach-blossoms. The sun streamed down warmly. He sighed. It seemed too bad that he had but six months to live. He was wealthy. Money meant no more to him than shriveled lotus petals. Though he were to live hundreds of years he could not exhaust his treasuries. Again he sighed and breathed deeply of the pungent air. Never had he< felt in more perfect health, and yet the hand of death was reaching down to grasp him. He was still young. He had not yet reached half the span of ordinary life. He had worked hard to acquire a fortune, so hard that he had forsaken all earthly pleasures. He had never married. He was the last of his family. It was too bad that there was no offspring to carry on the splendid tradition of his old and venerated ancestors.
But now he was about to die. Woo Ling-foh, the prophet, had predicted it and never had his prognostications failed. He had predicted fire and flood, earthquake and plague, and always had his words come true. He had read the stars. His eyes traveled about the skies as though they were set free from his body. To the farthermost realms of space they roamed, and many were the mysteries into which they peered.
Woo Ling-foh and Hwei-Ti had known each other for many years. The old mystic was a most interesting companion and countless were the tranquil hours Hwei-Ti passed listening to his quaint philosophies.
"Of all senses," mused Woo Ling-foh, "that of sight is the greatest. Who really looks with eyes that see? In every man is hidden the shadow of his ancestors. From his shadow he can not escape. Therefore might it not be possible for one to gaze at a man so intently that one could see his ancestors reaching back dimly through the mists of the ages? However, this is purely speculative on my part. I have never had opportunity to pursue this particular road of thought farther. I have been too intent on experimenting with spiritual things. For years this has been my main subject of research, and do you know what I have come to realize? Vision is granted a man only just before his death. At that period his senses are developed to their most superb degree. Animals and people do not see things in the same manner. Visions are of different intensities. For instance, birds can not distinguish blue because of the presence of yellow granules in the retina of their eyes. Numerous animals can distinguish ultra-violet rays which are not apparent to human sight, due perhaps to the fluorescence of their eyes. I merely mention these things in a fragmentary way to emphasize my point. If such things can be, might it not also be possible for one to gaze into the spiritual world if one's vision was sufficiently tuned? Not only is it possible but it has been done. I have wandered through a silent Blue City, a city of peace and contentment and rest, a city of soft whispers and sweet tones, of beauty and rare love. Come with me upon a pilgrimage. You have not long to live, six months at best, and I will take you to realms that will make your passing splendid."
Hwei-Ti was interested. He leaned forward. "Where is this city of which you speak?"
Woo Ling-foh extended his hands. "Who knows?" he said slowly. "Who knows the exact position of anything? Most places exist only if you believe in them enough."
In the early evening the old mystic
stopped for Hwei-Ti at his garden.
The sun was setting and the
rose-tinted lights of late afternoon
splashed on the mountains in gorgeous
splendor. They walked on and
on, without heat or hurry. The air
was cool and refreshing, in strange
variance to the humid heat of the
day that had passed. Gradually the
rose-tinted lights faded, giving place
to purpling mists as night crept into
its own. Onward they continued up
a winding mountain-road, a road
upon which no other wayfarers
walked, a road deserted, sad, rough.
Woo Ling-foh said nothing nor did Hwei-Ti, although it was true that the rich merchant's interest and enthusiasm were raised to a pitch never attained before. He felt, as he climbed up the crooked mountain-road, as though his old life was falling from him, like a shell that had become useless. The future held mystery. He could sense it in the air. Whether it held happiness he did not know. But he doubted it because his uttermost goal was dearth within six months anyway. Still the night's adventure was attractive, and he labored onward up the road beside old Woo Ling-foh, the mystic, who seemed unable to appreciate fatigue. He walked forward without effort despite his age and the steepness of the trail.
Now the mantle of night had fallen completely, the stars gleamed forth. They seemed of immense size, more brilliant than ever before.
Finally they reached the summit of the mountain—a broad, tablelike plateau that faded off into the gray of the night distances. The sky was of a brilliant blue. It seemed to bear down upon the mountain as though it were resting prone against it. The air was keen and fragrant.
It was very light. The stars shone forth in startling splendor.
"Woo Ling-foh seized Hwei-Ti by the shoulder. "They are not stars," he whispered; "they are lanterns gleaming from windows m the magical Blue City."
The moon had risen, silver-bright, cool, as sharp-cut as a diamond. Before them stretched a long white road, a road of moonbeams that Spread off toward the Blue City.
Woo Ling-foh took Hwei-Ti's hand. "Come," he murmured, and together they set off down the Moon Road that swerved into the skies.
Hwei-Ti's eyes were round with amazement. Could it be possible that they were walking into the very skies? Was he mad? Was even Woo Ling-foh but a figment of his distorted imagination? And yet there was a peace, a quietude about the occasion which was extremely beautiful. If it were madness it were better than his former state. Never had he known such complete tranquillity.
Woo Ling-foh still held his arm. "Look clearly," he said softly, "and as your eyes grow accustomed to the azure light you will be able to make out the forms of houses, and perhaps if you are able to tune your vision sufficiently, people also will be apparent to you."
The light was of queer intensity, blue that made one long to slumber, blue that was maddening in its beauty, blue that was like a soft caress. Here and there gray shadows loomed. Hwei-Ti sighed. He was at peace. Dimly through the mists he could see the outlines of houses, charming little houses with happy lanterns glowing in the windows. They were all of blue, not of one tone but of many, suggesting that they were really of variegated colors softened by a glaze of blue.
It was very quiet in that strange city, but not soundless. The solitude was restful. It was like a city in the deep hush of morning before the birds had awakened or the flowers had unfolded to the dawn. Their footbeats made no sound as they passed along, and this was well, for on the fragrant air was the suggestion of sweet singing, as though some lovely lady were crooning love-melodies to the moon. Now the blue trees commenced to stir. They exhaled a sweet fragrance, fragrance of pine and fir, of myrrh and sandalwood. Onward they walked. In the houses the lamps still burned. They glowed gorgeously through the blue maze.
Hwei-Ti sighed. Vision had been granted him at last. All that he had beheld in his entire life dwarfed to naught by comparison to this.
At last they came to a house lovelier than all others. It was by no means a mansion, merely a lovely homelike dwelling with countless flowers growing all about it. Before the door of the house sat a lovely maiden. She was simply dressed in a soft blue costume. Her hair was blue-black. It shone with an exotic sheen in the lantern light that streamed through the window. Her lips were red, made more vivid and startling by the fact that they were the sole bit of color other than blue in the garden. When she smiled, her teeth gleamed white as alabaster.
As Hwei-Ti gazed into her wondrous young face he was thrilled. She was lovelier than any woman his wildest dreams had pictured. She was exquisite. She was divine. It had been the echo of her singing which had given music to the air. It was she who had been crooning to the moon. He stepped forward and bowed toward the ground. Before such beauty he was speechless. All that he desired was to worship before her. He felt as though he were less than the dust at her feet, even though his wealth was boundless. Before the great wealth of her beauty his own wealth faded utterly.
At their approach she glanced up and smiled. One would have imagined that they had been friends always. Hwei-Ti put out his arms and she came to him, with the sweet simplicity of a child. The next moment he had kissed her soft red lips and in that moment he knew that life held nothing better for him than the love of this glorious girl. Again and again he kissed this maiden of the strange Blue City. He did not stop to consider that he had found her by walking down the Moon Road that led into the sky. It was sufficient that she was in his arms, accepting his kisses. It was the zenith hour of existence.
Meanwhile old Woo Ling-foh stood near by, smiling faintly. His old wrinkled face seemed lit by a divine lire. He was patient and he waited.
The girl led the way to a bench beneath a magnolia tree. The scent of blossoms perfumed the garden. And there she sat and sang love-songs to him, sang until his senses reeled for the want of her, sang until the lanterns in the windows one by one flickered out, sang until the soft blue of the city began to fade into the glorious rose-tints of morning.
It was then that Woo Ling-foh's manner changed completely. He glanced about at the pale pink shadows, then he seized Hwei-Ti by the hand and dashed pell-mell up the Moon Road as though all the serpents that hide under the mountains of China were close at their heels. Hwei-Ti tried to protest, but the strength of the aged prophet was phenomenal. By his chaotic manner Hwei-Ti sensed that they were fleeing from some terrible horror. Yet how could horror stalk in the lovely garden of that beautiful girl?
It was sacrilege to credit such a doubt. And if danger existed, were they not cowards to flee from it, sacrificing her to an unknown fate?
At last they arrived at the mountain-top
from which they had
walked off onto the Moon Road.
Woo Ling-foh fell panting to the
ground. His lean, gaunt face was
colorless. He closed his eyes and
moaned and moaned. He had used
up all his strength in an effort to
escape from the Blue City.
Hwei-Ti was amazed. He could not understand Woo Ling-foh's sudden change of front. The Blue City had been exquisitely peaceful and calm, yet it had aroused panic in the mind of the old mystic. He stood gazing off toward the majestic picture of dawn which was unfolding before him. The last star had expired, not a vestige of the Blue City remained. Gone, too, was the Moon Road, like a night-fog before the West Wind.
He bent over Woo Ling-foh and touched him upon the shoulder. Hwei-Ti was not in the best of tempers. He resented having been torn away from the magnolia garden against his will, from the presence of that little China girl who was more lovely than any vision which his wildest fancy painted.
"Why did you drag me away?" he demanded angrily.
Woo Ling-foh opened his eyes and smiled wanly. "To save you from being crushed by the dawn," he said slowly. "You are still a mortal. The terrific beauty of a rose-dawn in the Blue City would crush you to death. You would be blinded, dazzled by the light, scorched by the glory of the sun. Would you want such a hideous death of beauty? To be blasted by beauty: what more awful fate could ever be devised?"
"But the girl," pleaded Hwei-Ti hoarsely: "What has become of her? Has she been burned beyond recognition? Did we sacrifice her to a death so frightful?"
"No," replied Woo Ling-foh, "we did not leave the girl in danger for she was in truth but a spirit and therefore she was safe in the spiritual Blue City. It has been given you to see that which few men have ever witnessed during their natural lives. You should be content. Because one can not always see the Blue City does not prove its non-existence. For neither can one see with the unaided eye the ultra-violet ray. But enough. Do not dwell too much on the happenings of the night that has passed. It would be unwise. It might unbalance your reason. Too profound meditation has its dangers. That is why no philosopher is entirely sane."
During the weeks that followed,
Hwei-Ti sat long in his garden.
He brooded over the Blue City. A
great melancholy descended upon
him. He was in love, in love with a
gorgeous girl who lived in a spirit
city. Perhaps she had been dead for
fifty years. His life lay in ruins. He
was very wealthy, but his wealth
was not sufficient to bring that wondrous
girl to him. He could not
have been more despondent if he had
been the veriest beggar in the market-place.
He lost his desire for food.
Sam-shu held no allure. He grew
thin and haggard. Old Woo Ling-foh
had gone off on a pilgrimage to
the South, so he could not accompany
him to the city once again.
Weeks rolled by. They lengthened into months. And Hwei-Ti remained in his garden. Desiring, dreaming, yearning for the magic city and the lovely girl.
And he thought of the prediction of the old philosopher, that he would not live six months. He believed it to be true, for he was ill from longing. He was on the threshold of death and he did not care. There was naught left to him in the world. Gold and jewels—what need had he for such worthless baubles? They could not buy happiness.
Then again came Woo Ling-foh.
"I am dying," murmured Hwei-Ti, "and before I finally expire I wish once more to visit the wondrous Blue City."
"I wonder," mused Woo Ling-foh. "I wonder whether death is really death, or is it life? Is it the birth of the soul? For surely when it is set free from the body, to wander untrammeled through the universe, it can not be death. However, vain speculations interest only those who like to spend their hours in such pursuits."
"I wish once more to visit the magical city," repeated Hwei-Ti.
"It would be dangerous," replied Woo Ling-foh. "We escaped with our lives only by the width of a spun golden thread. To return would be to court disaster. You are too emotional. Be content. Wander not into realms that are fraught with danger."
Hwei-Ti sprang to his feet. He seized the old man by the throat. His reason snapped. Slowly his long fingers closed about the lean old throat. "If you do not take me to the mountain-top from which we walked off into the Moon Road," he cried hoarsely, "your life shall end at this moment!"
Woo Ling-foh flung Hwei-Ti's fingers from about his throat. He was not angry at the attack, for he realized that madness was creeping over his friend. He was not afraid, but he acceded to his wishes because he believed that calm death would be preferable to the maniacal existence toward which Hwei-Ti was plunging.
So in the evening he called again at the garden and together they set off toward the mountain-road. Hwei-Ti was very weak. Only his will to reach the Blue City carried him forward. He was overtaxing his feeble strength in this one superb effort, but he did not care. His craving was to be satiated.
When they arrived at the mountain-road, Woo Ling-foh paused. "You must continue onward alone," he said slowly. "The stars do not portend well, so I can not go with you. All my movements are controlled by astrological divinings. That) is why contentment and peace are mine."
Hwei-Ti made no protest at the old mystic's desertion. In fact he scarcely heeded it. It was enough that he was nearing the Blue City. His weakness was acute. His throat was parched. His tongue was dry. Time after time he staggered and fell. But ever he rose to his feet and continued onward up the sad, lonesome road. Eventually he reached the summit of the mountain. He breathed painfully. His eyes were wet with tears. He was very weak. But there before him stretched the Moon Road, a street of shimmering silver that swerved off into the Blue City.
As he walked out upon the Moon Road much of his fatigue abated. The cool air laved his tired body as though it were balm. It caressed his wasted cheeks, smoothed away the marks of worry and care. In the windows of the houses the star-lamps gleamed, and gradually he could make out the form of the houses as his vision adjusted itself to the pungent blue. Finally he heard the sound of sweet singing. His heart beat fast. Now he was weak no longer. Love, desire, made him strong.
The next moment he was in the magnolia garden and the wondrous girl was in his arms, crushed to his breast like a beautiful, fragrant flower. Contentment was complete. He kissed her soft lips again and again. Then she pushed him slowly away and continued her singing. But now she sang directly to him, a song that roses sing when their lovers return. It was magic, it was enchantment. Perhaps Woo Ling-foh was right. The Blue City was a spirit world; but if so, what mattered?
Entranced, he lingered in the garden until the rose-tipped shafts of morning crept into the skies. Slowly the blue faded into roseate magnificence. The magnolia trees sighed softly. They swayed in the breeze as though they were awaking. A few of the fragile blossoms fell upon him. The lovely, flowerlike maiden rose to her feet. She took his hand and faced toward the East. An ecstatic expression was upon her face and her soft bosom rose and fell as though she were greatly enthused. Forgotten by Hwei-Ti was the panic that had seized Woo Ling-foh on that other morning when they had fled together from the gorgeous horrors about which Woo Ling-foh talked in whispers. Gone was fear, fear of death, fear of life. Only the rose tints of lovely dawn remained and this girl of songs and dreams.
Slowly the blue faded and the rose, pink, orange glow intensified. From the distance there came a great moaning, a moaning as of the sea booming upon a white coral beach. It sounded like distant thunder. It was the thunder of dawn, the crashing beauty of the sun. Slowly, majestically it loomed into view. Its brilliance was blinding, dazzling. It burned the eyes of Hwei-ti, yet he could not turn them away. One by one the star-lanterns flickered out. His body commenced to tremble. It was the most exalted moment of his life. It was like a journey to the sun. It was a beauty too intense for his poor mind to absorb. He commenced to tremble.
The roar of the waves upon the coral beach intensified. Now the whole city was golden, tipped with rose and orange. The roar was frightful. He felt as though his head were bursting. His eyes pained as though they were on fire. He could not breathe. Moaning he fell to his knees, nor could he rise again. Yet ever he kept, his eyes turned toward the sun. The sun in morning splendor beat upon him, dazzlingly beautiful but ruthless in its intensity. It burned out his eyes. It scorched his body to ashes. It crushed him beneath its glory. When he had borne pain to the uttermost, agony beyond words, the spark of his life flickered out.
All through the rose dawn he lay lifeless at the feet of the lovely girl. Softly she crooned threnodies of love to him. Until at last sunset came, the golden glow gave way to the purpling shadows of evening, then to the pungent blue of night. Gradually the lamps were lighted in the windows. A fragrant breeze cooled the air.
Abruptly the girl stopped singing. She stooped and kissed the cracked, broken lips of Hwei-Ti. He opened his eyes. As he gazed into hers, new strength came to him.
"Come," she whispered softly.
He rose to his feet. Together they sat once more beneath the magnolia tree. The garden had never before seemed more beautiful.
"You will never again have to leave the Blue City," she murmured. "Now we can be together until the very sun doth cool."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
And she replied, "Simply that you came into the Blue City with a material body. But now all that is material has been burned away. The spiritual only remains."
As she finished speaking she commenced once more to sing of old longings and young love. Hwei-Ti folded his hands. He was content. He was at peace.