We have heard of how Zuo Que had left home complete and returned a cripple due to Hunter Zhao's arrow. His left leg shorter than the right, he staggered along in a tiring and truly awkward way; how could this wrong ever go unavenged?

"Sworn enemies should avoid each other" was Holy Auntie's advice to her son. "You weren't careful and you exposed a flaw," she continued, "and that's why you're suffering this torture. Thank heaven that Dr Yan was fated to save your life and that you only suffered the partial loss of a leg, just a slight handicap. Think about it! Back in the beginning of the Warring States period the strategist Sun Bin was lame and so was Premier Lou Shide of the Tang. And there's always 'Iron Staff' Li, who's one of the Immortals of The Eight Caverns in the world of the spirits. My son, this isn't worth the shame of mean vengeance!"

Then reminded of Yan Banxian she paused. and remembering his words burst into tears of sadness.

"Mama", exclaimed the startled son, "I'll obey you and forget about getting even, so what then is there to cry over?" Holy Auntie collected herself and continued.

"Folks who get hold of the Way of Heaven and Earth can't be harmed by either spirits or humans. On the other hand creatures like us are without real Daoist craft. We can only wear a shell of someone and fool the public with our false humanity, and one day it's got to be that our number is up. And then when we get to the bitter end there isn't going to be any Yan Banxian to come along and save us, either! Well, what I'm getting to is that Dr Yan said that your sister is fated to meet with disaster, but he couldn't tell me any more details." Accordingly she told him everything Yan Banxian had told her in his study, until her children shivered in their very bones with fear.

Now Holy Auntie and her pride left their earthen den and set off in search of the Daoist craft. And the three could be heard only discussing the problem of which path to take.

"There is only Bianzhou" said Que, "in Dongjing District, that our Emperor has made the capital, Kaifeng. It's a gilded world swarming with all the races of humanity, and all sorts of Daoist immortals live there." His mother wasn't so sure.

"I'm afraid that kind of luxury might tempt you," she answered, "and cause all sorts of trouble. But I've heard that in a region of Yingzhou District there's a beautiful region with three rivers and seven marshes. Our ancestors have passed down this saying about it: 'If you want to be a king among Daoists you must go to Mianyang; if you want to become a great sorcerer, go seek knowledge at Yunmeng. Now, Yunmeng means 'Dream-of-the-Clouds,' and it's the name of two vast mashes, a lake really. It's in Mianyang, surrounded by a lot of mountains, and deep in them is a certain White Cloud Cave where Daoist writings are stored, and there's even a White Ape God to take care of them. Now we are all predestined to become Daoists, as Yan Banxian said we have a fate in Dao. So if we go there we are bound to learn something!" Que was unmoved.

"The proverb may recommend that barren place," he countered, "but I'd rather go somewhere a bit more abundant. Dongjing is just the kind of place that's got everything, and the teachers of all three Ways are all over the place. And even if we don't learn any Daoist wizardry there is still a lot of good eating and drinking and plenty of sights to be seen!". His old mother was steadfast.

"That certainly isn't the way a young seeker of Dao should talk!"she admonished.

"It's too far from here to Yingzhou!" exclaimed Mei, breaking in. With big brother's leg crippled like that, how many years would it take to get there? In my opinion we should head for Yongxing. The four peaks of holy Mt Hua are there, and so is the great Daoist teacher Chen Tuan. Why, we could burn incense and worship the Lord of Heaven and visit Wizard Chen too, and beg him some of his Wulong Latent Sorcery. And there are the mountains: Zhongnan, Taiyi, Shilou and Tianzhu, and they're all places where the Fairies and Immortals get together. And it's really close to Donjing and Kaifeng! When we get there we can discuss the journey to Yingzhou; now isn't that really killing two birds with one stone?"

Now her brother really liked what he heard. "What sis says is right," he added. Under such urging Holy Auntie but nodded her consent. So at this point Quezi, as he had come to be called, changed into a country bumpkin and Mei into a country lass, while the old vixen transformed herself into a poor old woman; need I say more? Leaving their den they set out on the road to Xijing. Now, this was in the first fortnight of the second lunar month, when the weather becomes warm and comfortable. Consider this:

Now, when Mei changed herself into a village girl she became a bewitching beauty in the process. As for Que, because his hobbled pace reduced him to half the speed of others, well, he lagged far behind and what was more couldn't go ten li without a rest; his sister and mother could only move at his pace. And every time they came to a resting place the village clanswomen would all crowd round, every last Zhang and Li among them, young and old, shouting out praises as they gathered for a look.

"How can such a poor old hag have such a fine daughter?" they would ask.

"If she were willing to offer the girl as a bride someone sure would offer a string of cash!" another would chime in.

"What's this cripple got to do with her?" someone would invariably wonder, causing many more comments, such as "The girl is certainly a protected bride to be, heh heh!"

"Let the buyer beware," said one sharp-tongued villager; the taker might get more than he bargained for. The boy is disgusting, and even though his sister is charming and beautiful they both came out of the same hag's belly!" And there were the frivolous village men who crowded around elbow-to-elbow and badgered the girl with probing questions. Now our Mei was already sophisticated and experienced; she ignored them and nodded politely.

In time this all became irritating, so they picked only quiet remote spots in which to rest; they had to cover fifty or sixty li in a day. And as each of the trio was really a fox in spirit they ate flowers and fruit when hungry and when thirsty they drank at clear pure springs. At night they bedded down on luxuriant grass in tall groves, and even if delayed for a few days they weren't terribly troubled. It wasn't at all bothersome, unlike the way human travelers can't go anywhere without heavy expenditures. During the day they downed bowls of watery gruel and at night they dined on grassy fodder, and should the purses at their sides be emptied of cash they had not a care of getting some. They were indeed traveling "fox free."

Our threesome trundled along like this for several days, for the most part delighted with the truly mild pleasant weather. But suddenly one day there arose a strong wind and the sky was obscured by a white curtain, and a spring snow fell for an entire day. Now, to digress, snow has always had several magical classifications, each known by a famous name. A single-point snowflake is a "Little Bee", double-pointed flakes are called "Goosefeathers", a triple-point snowflake is a "Bird-in-Hand", and a four pointer is known as a "Quartet". Five-pointed snow is the "Meihua" or "Plum Blossom" variety, while the ordinary six-pointed type is simply known as just that. As snow is made up of congealed Yin energy, this six-pointed type behaves according to the laws of Yin transformations. And until the beginning of spring it's mostly mixed Plum Blossom snow that falls; at any rate there are no six-pointed flakes then. Now, our Hu Que hobbled along haltingly on the best of days, but upon meeting this kind of snow he found it increasingly impossible even to move. He could only cry out in pain and bitterness.

"This place," said the mother,"isn't far from Swordgate Mountain. There's a monastary at that place where we can rest. I can't say when we'll be able to press on." Then they covered their heads with leaves as a sort of makeshift farmer's hat to shield them from the elements. Que couldn't help slipping so he lagged behind, struggling on and on. And before they had gone another two hours they set their eyes upon Swordgate Mountain, looming before them throught the falling snow. Now, these great peaks had been carved out by the legendary Wuding Lishi, the Five Bold Men, who could move mountains and had assisted the King of Shu in ancient Sichuan before their untimely death in an avalanche, and there is indeed a Xijiangyue poem for proof:

Our weary travelers had not yet reached the mountain when they suddenly spotted the top of a partially concealed red wall poking through the trees of a grove just ahead of them.

"Wouldn't it be fine," said the old mother, "to rest here for awhile?" Then the three pressed on with all of their strength, and from the golden lettering on the signboard they saw that they had come upon the "Tomb of Virtuous Bravery", the final resting place of a king. Ahead were three portals, and the vermillion doors in each were ajar. And when they entered for a look, they saw to their right a fierce statue of a soldier leading a scarlet hare and a fearsome rouge horse, while on their left stood a stone monument; on both sides were fenceposts. On a second level were the three chambers of the main sacrificial hall, a place of indescribable beauty where a vermillion chariot harness was kept. In front of the alter on the right a large ceremonial burner for money offerings was carved, while on the left was built a well and pavillion surrounded on all sides by vermillion fence-pikes, with only a small gateway and path for fetching water.

"There must be a Daoist residing in this temple," said the old woman, "but we better not bother him. It'll be fine to just rest by this here well for a few hours." And so the trio tiredly approached the well and clambored onto the base of the pavillion. Peering inside, they saw an octagonally shaped wellshaft of glazed tiles, with stone benches on either side of its mouth. But alas, just as they sat down the snow began to come down with uncanny heaviness.

"This kind of weather can really get to you," said Que, "and it's surely not an omen of anything really good! We didn't say or do anything to deserve it either. What was our sin, that by seeking out a teacher somewhere we came to this suffering today?"

"In the beginning," answered his mother, "the founder Boddhidharma meditated for nine years before the wall, wearing only vines and kneeling motionlessly. During that time he suffered no one knows how much rain and snow, but surprisingly in the end a house was built for him. This here snow is just ordinary weather and there's no resaon for you to be bitter about it."

Thereupon Holy Auntie had nothing more to say; they heard only the sound of the great doors opening. And when Quezi snuck a peek into the emptiness before him he saw someone entering. The newcomer's head was wrapped in a Tang turban and he wore a jacket of coarse cloth with many patches, and around his waist was tied a yellow chord that trailed down to his feet like a long worm. Now, dear reader, do you care to guess who it was? Why, none other than the guardian of the incense burner and old resident Daoist priest, Wizard Nie. In one hand he held an umbrella while in the other he carried a tassled earthen jar capable of containing five or six jin of wine.

"Those under vows," he was mumbling, "taking wine as seriously as their very lives...and to think, I had to walk all the way to town to get this bloody piss, and in this kind of snow. Well as God is my witness I'll make that fool drink up til his belly aches." And as he spoke he set down both his umbrella and the earthen jug, lifted the latch and propped open the door.

"You know," Quezi thought, "I'm really cold, and it won't do any harm to take a little nip of that wine!" Now usually our Quezi was inclined toward lazy self-indulgence; it was in his nature. But slow as he was in speech, this time he truly moved with a corresponding degree of speed. Bolting from the well he reached the jug in three or four steps, snatched it up and quickly lifted its neck to his thirsty lips and poured a long draught down into his gullet; indeed a long, long "when friends come from afar" drink! Wizard Nie heard something, turned around and caught sight of this all.

"Why, you thief!" he bellowed, "coming in here to steal this wine after I froze walking all the way into town to buy it. And on top of that, you've seen fit to make yourself right at home!" Quezi set the jug down in a flash and tried to escape but was caught, scolded to his face and knocked for a loop by one blow of the old priest's palm. Then he picked himself up and ran helter-skelter back to the well, staggering crookedly on his bad leg. Now, old Nie hadn't given up but hurrying to the well found the trio nestled together.

The old mother rose at once. "Blessings," she proclaimed, "we three were on our way to visit relatives in Xijing when we encountered this snow, so we're just resting here for the moment...this country bumpkin son of mine is such a nincompoop; really, he didn't know what he was doing." Wizard Nie then changed his fearsome countenance, still longing inside to carry on with some more scolding. But having caught a glimpse of the charming girl all wrapped up and standing sheltered so quietly behind her mother, his guts turned to water and he took his molten load of anger and cast it all the way to Java, that land in the sea where maidens squeal with pleasure!

"Your boy," he then said, quickly changing his manner of speaking, "is slow to catch on. Why yes, pulling a dumb trick like that he can't be too bright, that's for sure. But as he's had quite a bit of this wine to drink I'm afraid that if our Master inside asks, old mother, you'll have to make the customary pledge of something; that's the way it is. Then leaving the pavillion he returned to the front railing, picked up and shook out his umbrella, took the wine flask and walked toward the cellar of the east hall, laughing in secret delight.

"That thirsty mouth of yours really got us into trouble," scolded the old mother, burying her anger into Que. "Heaven sentenced you to a lifetime as a cripple, that's for sure; even the fenceposts around this well if given a pair of healthy legs could have could each have stolen some wine and got away with it!" Mei laughed.

"The way you went over was worth a drink of wine in itself!" she added. And at this point Que himself began to laugh.

"Although I got knocked onto my behind," he joked, "I'm a lot warmer than you with all this wine in my belly!"

But as they laughed and joked the sound of footsteps was heard from below, and in came a younger Daoist priest. Now this temple had long had an old Wizard surnamed Chen, with the Daoist title Kongshan, and although he wasn't a day over seventy years of age he had developed an inflammation of the lungs. All day he remained in his room in solitude, eating and relieving himself their; he never came out. But this younger Daoist was the Temple Master, surnamed Jia, with the Wizard's title of Qingfeng, and he was only twenty-four or five years of age at that. Although a Daoist holy man, he had experienced quite a few worldly concerns and loved drinking rose-petal wine. Now as this Swordgate Mountain was a remote place he was hard pressed to even set eyes upon a woman's face, to say nothing of ever getting a chance to satisfy his enormous desire. Having heard Wizard Nie speak of a charming village lass sitting by the well, he didn't even bother about the wine in the flask. He immediately went out in front of the temple, treading hastily upon the snowy earth and finally reached the well.

"Where is this family of yours from?" he asked.

"This old wife," answered Holy Auntie, "hails from the foot of Goosegate Mountain, and there are only the three of us. In our journey to sacrifice at the holy mountain of the west, Huayue, we met this snow and broke in upon you like this. A little while ago this idiot son of mine stole some wine to drink but he's been beaten for it and I've been scolding him til now, so please don't hit him again, his old mother begs of you."

"That little affair" answered Wizard Jia graciously, "didn't cause any harm; don't let it bother you." But his two eyes rolling in their sockets peeked over at that foxy young maid and his very soul took leave of his body. As for what this means, here's a poem entitled "Park your Horse and Listen":

Wizard Jia collected himself and spoke again. "Having gone out on such a terrible, snowy day," he consoled, "you really must have suffered. You poor little girl..." At this point Quezi leapt up.

"Hard as it was," he blurted out, "we'll be fine with a bit more wine in our bellies!" The old woman glared angrily at him and he was silent. The Wizard continued.

"This isn't exactly a comfortable place. It isn't bad by day but at night the wind howls and it's unbearable. But behind the temple there's a nice clean house where official guests often stay when they come around. I'd like to invite you, old mother, to go inside, get some warm coals glowing and dry those wet clothes of yours."

"That won't be necessary," answered the little mother, "we'll burrow in out here catching what sleep we can, and we'll be on our way in the morning."

"On the contrary," insisted Wizard Jia, "this weather doesn't appear likely to clear up anytime soon, and the mountain roads here are really rough going. They'll be much muddier than your usual ones long after the snow stops. We here are really afraid of what danger you might put this little girl in. Anyway, this temple is a public place, so if you agree to stay for the next ten days how can we charge you rent? Just for waiting for a bit of sunshine? Then you can be on your way, no charges and no delay!"

The old woman accepted. "Many thanks, your Reverence," she said and apologized for having so rudely intruded. Wizard Jia laughed.

"As for that, well, who can carry a house over them when they travel? You aren't to blame. And it's long been said that a favor to others is a favor to one's own self. If you want a little snack I, your humble priest, will be glad to serve you, lest you suspect we ignore our guests or allow them to go without proper food or fire."

Quezi was delighted. "Mom," he fawned, "it's hard to find a Daoist priest as perfectly kind as this man. Let's stay in that house and instead of freezing we'll have some sweet dreams at night."

The old mother looked at Mei. "How do you feel about it?", she asked.

"I'll leave it up to you, Mother," she answered. Upon seeing her willingness Wizard Jia was unimaginably pleased.

"I shall lead the way," he said softly and solemly, "just follow me in."

And so the mother and children followed the Daoist down from the east pavillion, around the main temple, on past the assembly hall and through a passage beneath the kitchen. They then arrived at the rear of the compound and saw two newly-erected small dwellings with a few flowery trees growing in the courtyard. After bowing, one at a time, they were finally able to relax. The Wizard politely asked the mother's surname, and she answered thoughtfully.

"Zuo, meaning left...this boy of mine was once named Zuo Chu, but now that he's lost the use of a foot he's called Zuo Que'r, and, uhh...my little girl is named Mei'r" she offered, using diminutive forms of their names. Now the Wizard knew full well that the surname also meant heterodox and evil, but of course thought nothing of it and went on to introduce himself.

"My surname is Jia, and I'm known around here as Jia Qingfeng. Today we've all met unexpectedly and I'm sure it was fated."

"If there is an old Master in charge of the house," requested the mother, "please take us to meet him right away!"

"The Temple Master is old and sick," replied Jia, "and hasn't received guests for a number of years. His quarters are behind the little gate we've just passed, on the west end behind the temple itself. For now only I am in charge."

"And your colleagues," asked the mother, "how many are there?"

"Well," answered the Wizard, "there was also a young disciple, but as his father passed away over the New Year he went back to his home district and hasn't returned. The priest who brought the wine is surnamed Nie and he too is new here. An old man lives down below the kitchen; he also minds the incense burner, helping Nie as rector and he alone minds the fire and cooks our rice. That's all. Well, you three are probably hungry after your journey. Something is cooking right now and we can all eat our fill."

"We won't take it," answered the woman, "for we've brought along our own provisions."

"Save them for the road" said the Wizard before dashing wildly into the kitchen. He quickly fixed up some cold meat, noodles and rice and ordered Wizard Nie to serve them up. Then grabbing some dishes of dried fruit he he headed back into the room.

What trouble you must have gone to!" exclaimed the old woman. "The food here in the mountains is really enough to make you laugh" answered the crafty chief priest. Then Wizard Nie brought out a big kettle of wine and four porcelain cups, placing them down as a set. Wizard Jia picked up the cups and filled them to overflowing, all the while talking. "Tonight," he told the old mother, "please sleep between your children, with little brother on the left and your girl on the right, and feel free to call for a lamp to take the chill off of the night."

"Oh, do stay with us," entreated the old mother, "I beg of you, oh great teacher!"

Well, Wizard Jia was pleasantly surprised.

"I'm afraid your girl would misunderstand!" he answered.

"There's no harm in sitting for a spell" she insisted.

"Very well then," replied the young Wizard, doing his best to feign reluctance, "as you've commanded I'll do my best to be your humble servant." He then put a stool down behind Que'r and sat. Mei'r, ashamed and blushing, stood behind her mother who then spoke.

"Now, if you'll only sit down too we'll be able to enjoy this priest's hospitality at ease," and Mei'r too was finally seated.

Now, when she was standing it had been bad enough. But once she sat under the indirect but very intense eye of the Wizard she seemed to him more supernaturally beautiful than ever before. His very Hun and Pou essences, the constituent parts of his soul, took leave of his body. And sure enough here's a poem for proof called "Little Yellow Oriole":