Chapter One

A walnut.

It was a beautiful one, its shell already cleaned so that the grain showed clearly, a pale brown sheen to it. Merely holding such a walnut in one’s hand made it impossible not to want to rub it, to worry it between the fingers, and it had been placed together with its brothers and sisters on an exquisitely made plate. The plate was snowy white, threaded through with delicate purple filaments in its pattern, like a breath of wind over winter snow; just looking at it made the thing seem all the more costly.

A little eunuch of thirteen or fourteen took the beautiful walnut from the plate. He did not toy with it, nor did he use the copper nutcrackers set beside him to open it. Instead, he placed both thumbs against the seam of the shell. Beads of sweat had already gathered on his brow, and his face was slowly turning red, yet every layer of his thumbs bore the marks of this labor, so that anyone who saw him would feel full of confidence in him.

Suddenly, he stared wide-eyed, veins standing out on his temples, his teeth clacking together!

Open! Open!

He forced the walnut apart with the power of his fingers alone.

The shell split with such clean grace that not a scrap of debris fell away, and the sound was crisp and pleasant indeed. Inwardly, he gave himself a shout of praise.

It was a feat well worth applauding, only there was not a single spectator who spared him so much as a glance.

After the walnut’s thin, crisp, slightly astringent skin had been carefully pared away, it was placed on a white porcelain dish and respectfully carried to a small table in Cloud Waves Pavilion.

Still, no one looked at it twice.

The most important spectator of the performance had originally taken up a walnut with interest and tried squeezing it by hand, but this was not a skill everyone possessed; all it accomplished was to make the spectator’s fingers ache, and the walnut was then flung aside.

After that, no one paid the little eunuch’s performance any mind.

Of course, if one asked a more obedient and sharp-witted servant of the inner court, he would say that there was not even a single "person" here.

For apart from the little eunuch, there was only a gathering of immortals.

There were clear springs, trailing vines, and strange rocks of uncanny form, lean and hollow, pure and ugly in equal measure; there were ancient trees and white blossoms scattering down in profusion. Such a garden was no longer merely a garden. It made one marvel that there truly were immortal mountains in the world of this sort, and those who could dwell upon them were naturally worthy of the praise of "immortals."

So long as one did not think too carefully about how this garden had been built, there was nothing but heartfelt admiration for it.

Two small boys in blue stood at the entrance to the garden, their posture solemn, though every now and then they still craned their necks to peer about. Especially when the carriage that had come from the Hall of Precious Registers drew near at a slow pace, both boys stretched their necks almost in unison.

"Is the one seated in there Senior Brother Dawn of Truth?" one boy asked in a low voice.

The other gave him a jab with his elbow, and all the murmuring doubts in the boy’s mouth were swallowed at once.

Somebody brought a footstool. Somebody lifted the curtain. Somebody emerged from the carriage and stood respectfully below it. A group of girls of twelve or thirteen, all in matching front-buttoned robes and bare topknots, came out one by one; after all the calling and summoning, one final figure appeared, dressed in the same way.

This was rather bullying to the little Daoist children. All the girls had the same hairstyle, the same clothing; one could not remember a face at a glance, and that would be a terrible mistake indeed.

Fortunately, as soon as the girl in the center approached, the two boys in blue immediately realized that she was in fact quite easy to remember.

She was very pretty, the kind of prettiness proper to a child, which was nothing remarkable in itself. The other daughters of the imperial household were much the same; their unseen grandmother had been a beauty whose face alone could outshine others, and their mothers had each borne them thanks largely to those flowerlike features. Add together such layers of blessing, and every imperial princess was born without ugliness. But girls of this age were by nature already lovely and cute, and the other little girls, even if somewhat inferior to her, were still at least equally adorable.

Yet apart from that face, there was a coolness in her expression unlike that of ordinary children. This set her somewhat apart from the circumspect little Daoists around her, though it still did not fully distinguish her from them.

The older of the two boys in blue glanced at her robe, then signaled to his companion with his eyes. The companion was quick-witted too, and understood at once after a second look.

"Senior Brother Dawn of Truth." The two boys in blue bowed together.

Senior Brother Dawn of Truth seemed very reluctant to return the courtesy. She stood there stiffly for a moment before finally giving a slight nod.

"Where is His Imperial Majesty?"

"The Celestial Master is presently in Cloud-Lang Pavilion discussing the Way with the various Heavenly Masters," the boy said with a smile. "We are only waiting for Senior Brother."

The leg she had just begun to lift paused, then drew back again.

She stood there, her clear black-and-white eyes opened very wide, as though in that instant her soul had gone wandering beyond the heavens, or as though she had suddenly seen through the truth and falsehood of the world. Neither of the two junior brothers dared speak. They held their breath and watched this brother with "immortal affinity" drift away into the void and return.

"Then let us go," she said at last, regaining her usual cool expression. Her voice was calm.

This senior brother had many names. The little Daoist children newly arrived in the palace did not know them, but the maids and eunuchs had chewed over the gossip to its last fiber. They said that though this little girl wore a bare topknot and not even a flower in her hair, she was in fact the imperial daughter most valued by His Majesty. It was said that she had been born on the True Origin Festival, with clouds and rosy light filling the sky at her birth, and that her cries had drawn in immortal deer. Thus she had caught His Majesty’s eye and received the small name "Murmur," and had been placed under the tutelage of Master Lin at the Palace of Vast Thunder and Pure Jade for the Ten-Thousand-Year Longevity.

So whatever her origins, they could not compare to the preciousness of being Master Lin’s disciple. Though Master Lin had retreated into the mountains to cultivate and become an immortal, it was beyond doubt that this imperial princess had remained in the Precious Registers Palace for disciplined practice.

Indeed, they had simply forced a little daughter who could barely walk properly onto the road of immortality. And not only had she cultivated for years, she had cultivated well. Setting aside the Classic of the Way and Its Virtue and The Master Who Embraces Simplicity, it was said that even the Supreme Cavern Mystery Numinous Treasure Sutra of Boundless Deliverance, so greatly valued by His Majesty, she could recite backwards without a single mistake. This showed Master Lin’s discerning eye, and even more proved that His Majesty was blessed indeed, to have gained such a daughter with immortal affinity.

Never mind that she was still young now; in the future she was certain to attain the fruits of immortality.

His Majesty practically longed to throw himself bodily into the Dao, but despite day and night of fervent supplication he found no opportunity. How could he not adore this future immortal? If he truly did not adore her, perhaps the reason lay precisely in that certainty of future attainment.

By the edge of Goose Pool, in Cloud Waves Pavilion. Ancient trees towered overhead. Beneath them stood elders with white hair and childlike faces, long locks draped over their shoulders, each looking like an immortal. They wore shabby Daoist robes and surrounded the one in the middle, chatting among themselves. When the imperial daughter with immortal destiny drew near, the one in the center turned his head and smiled at her.

He was truly a handsome man, thought the imperial daughter of immortal destiny.

In this year, Emperor Huizong of Song was forty-one. Though no longer young, the rich and precious life he had lived had preserved him so well that his face showed not the slightest sign of age. It was a fair face, with a high nose bridge, thin lips, and phoenix eyes all in perfect arrangement; add to that his black hair and balanced figure, and his looks were of the highest order even in a palace full of handsome men and beauties.

Especially since he wore nothing of wealth or splendor, only a hemp robe, cloth shoes, and a simple wooden hairpin in his dark topknot, the entire person looked plain to the point of austerity. A handsome man of forty often risked seeming greasy, but this one certainly did not. Dressed thus, anyone who saw him would take him for an isolated hermit in the clouds, drinking in the wind and dew, with plums for a wife and cranes for children.

Very tasteful.

But one could not think too carefully about it.

For if one did, this radiant, transcendent, otherworldly handsome man had already fathered more than thirty daughters.

She paused the inner mockery in her head for the moment. Her tasteful father spoke.

With great affection, he said, "Murmur, it is rare indeed to summon you back to the palace today. Come and meet these immortal elders."

Murmur stepped forward and, like the boys in blue, made a proper salute to the old men all around.

Her father was very pleased, very proud, that she had gained immortal affinity. But like many parents everywhere in the world, being proud oneself was not enough; one also had to drag the child out during festivals and family gatherings to let everyone have a look.

There were no relatives here, only immortals, so out she came to show herself to the immortals.

An old man trembled to his feet and withdrew, not accepting her bow.

"Master Xuantong, why do you not receive her courtesy?"

The old man shook that snowy head of his. "It has been long since I saw the immortal child. Does the little Daoist still remember me?"

The child froze.

"In the sixth year of Xianping, this little Daoist once accompanied an immortal master to Mount Luofu to visit Master Vast Simplicity. The immortal child rode a white deer to greet us. Though two full cycles of sixty years have passed, the scene remains vivid before my eyes!"

The child pressed her lips together, as though she very much wanted to say something.

The old man, full of delight, stretched out his hand and measured a height. "No wonder the immortal child did not recognize this little Daoist. Back then I was only—this tall!"

"That was truly..." After holding it in for a long time, she managed to force out a little sound from her throat. "A very long time ago!"

A chorus of exclamations rose all around, followed by a wave of admiration.

She instinctively wanted to look at her father, this transcendent and Dao-bound father of hers.

But her father’s attention had already been drawn away by the surrounding cries and praises from the immortals. He stroked his beard with restrained dignity, yet the smile he could not quite restrain still broke through completely.

How could he hide a smile at such a great matter!

The immortal child was real. The immortal affinity was real. If even the members of this accompanying entourage were held in such high regard and universally called people of the immortal path, what did that prove?

It proved that he, the Celestial Master of Pure Jade, was also a genuine immortal without a shred of falsehood.

The ring of old men had all been through the fires and seen the world, their reputations forged amid the clash of armies—this was no empty claim. From the bitter killing and loving-hating of the founders of the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice in Sichuan, Zhang Lu and Zhang Xiu, to Lin Lingsu’s slaying of Wang Yuncheng, these "immortals" after wealth had truly drawn knives. What eyesight, what sense of smell they had! Once one began, the rest instantly crowded in to join the performance, comfortably tossing the ball back and forth:

"Celestial Master Brother Jade and Pure! No wonder we could not discern our brother’s origins. So he had already been marked by immortal destiny long ago!"

"Exactly, exactly! With an immortal child here, this is proof enough!"

"Even seated at ease, Senior Brother already has the fortune to ascend to immortality. How enviable the Daoists must be!"

"Brother Xuantong was truly too rash," another immortal complained. "How could such heavenly secrets be revealed before mortals?"

Having said that, he cast a deep, inscrutable glance at the circle of little eunuchs and palace maids serving as the scenery at the edge. Those swept by his gaze all lowered their heads at once.

The past of the immortal child could not be spoken aloud. To speak it would shorten one’s lifespan. As for whose lifespan would be shortened exactly, she could not make heads or tails of it. In any case, that white-bearded old man claimed to have lived for two full cycles of sixty years already, so she did not know how much lifespan he still had left to lose.

The Celestial Master of Pure Jade made the decision. "Since that is so, let us take 'Deer Song' as her name and veil the matter somewhat. She is still so young; we must not cut into her fortune and longevity."

As he made the decision, he waved her over and gathered her bare topknot into his hand, stroking the crown of her head with overflowing affection.

And so her name was settled among a gathering of immortals, auspicious, blessed, and richly laden with good fortune.

As if to confirm that she truly had some touch of mysticism upon her, no sooner had that loving hand withdrawn from her head than someone arrived.

In a blue short robe, fair-faced and beardless, with two jade rings at his waist and a thin, deferential voice, he too was dressed like a Daoist:

"Lord Wang of the Office of Discourses and Supervision, and Lord Cai of the Eastern Office, request an audience with the Venerable Jade and Pure for news of joy."

In the fifth year of Xuanhe, that is, the year 1123 of the Common Era, there seemed to be too much good news for the Celestial Master Zhao Ji to take in.

The immortals around them erupted again in commotion, talking over one another in a great racket, but Murmur had no mind to listen.

All her attention was fixed on the dish of walnuts on the small table. Taking advantage of Zhao Ji’s dealings with the eunuch, she reached out, took two walnut kernels, and stuffed them into her mouth, then picked up the abandoned walnut as well and casually took the copper nutcrackers beside it.

With a soft click, the seemingly hard shell split cleanly in two in her hands, revealing the richly oiled, crisp, and tender kernel within.