Original Text
In this county there was a scholar named Wang, the seventh son of a once prominent and wealthy family. From a young age he admired the arts of Daoist immortals, and hearing that many celestial beings dwelled on Mount Lao, he packed his bags and journeyed there to seek instruction in the Way. One day, ascending to the mountain's summit, he came upon a Daoist temple, tranquil and secluded. Within sat an old priest on a rush mat, his white hair flowing loose about his neck, his bearing noble and refined. Wang approached, paid his respects, and engaged him in conversation; finding the priest's words profound and mysterious, he begged to be accepted as a disciple. The priest replied, "I fear you are too pampered and indolent by habit to endure hardship." Wang answered, "I can endure hardship." The priest had many disciples, and when evening came they all assembled. Wang bowed to each in turn and remained in the temple. At dawn the next day, the priest summoned Wang, handed him an axe, and bade him join the others in cutting firewood. Wang obeyed with care and diligence. After more than a month, his hands and feet were thickly calloused, and unable to bear the toil any longer, he secretly conceived the thought of returning home.
One evening, Wang Sheng returned from gathering firewood and saw two guests drinking with his master. It was already dark, yet no candles had been lit. The master cut a round piece of paper, as smooth as a mirror, and pasted it onto the wall. In a moment, that paper transformed into a bright moon, illuminating the entire room so clearly that even the finest hairs were visible. All the disciples stood around, awaiting orders and bustling about to serve. One guest said, "On such a fine night, we should share this joy with everyone." He then took the wine jug from the table and distributed the wine to the disciples, instructing them to drink their fill. Wang Sheng thought to himself, "With seven or eight people, how can one jug of wine be enough for all?" At that moment, everyone found their own cups and jars, scrambling to pour and drink, fearing the jug would run dry. Yet as they continuously poured from it, the wine in the jug showed no sign of diminishing. Wang Qi was deeply astonished. After a while, one guest said, "Though we are graced with the moon's light, drinking in such silence is dull—why not summon Chang'e?" He then tossed his chopstick toward the moon, and instantly a beautiful maiden drifted out from the moonlight, at first no taller than a foot, but upon landing, she became as tall as an ordinary person. With a slender waist and elegant neck, she gracefully performed the "Rainbow Robe and Feathered Skirt Dance." After the dance, she sang: "Lightly I dance! Return quickly! Why do you confine me in the Guanghan Palace?" Her voice was clear and soaring, as piercing as the sound of a flute. When the song ended, she swirled and rose, leaping onto the table; as everyone watched in amazement, she turned back into a chopstick. The Taoist and the two guests burst into hearty laughter together. Another guest said, "Tonight is the most joyful, but I can drink no more. May we hold our farewell feast within the moon?" With that, the three of them, along with the wine spread, slowly drifted into the moon. The disciples watched them sitting inside the moon, drinking, with their beards and brows clearly visible, as if reflected in a mirror. After a while, the moon gradually dimmed. The disciples lit candles and saw only the Taoist sitting alone in the room; the guests had vanished. The dishes and fruits remained on the table, and when they looked at the moon on the wall, it was merely a round piece of paper like a mirror. The Taoist asked everyone, "Have you all drunk enough?" They replied in unison, "Enough." "If you've had enough, go to bed early, and don't delay tomorrow's firewood gathering." The disciples assented and withdrew. Wang Sheng felt secretly delighted and envious, and he abandoned his thoughts of returning home.
After another month had passed, Scholar Wang could no longer endure the hardship, yet the Taoist still had not taught him a single spell. Wang's heart no longer wished to wait, so he took his leave, saying, "Your disciple has come from several hundred li to learn the Way from you, Immortal Master. Even if I cannot attain the art of immortality, if I could learn even a minor skill, it would console my earnest heart in seeking instruction. Now two or three months have passed, and each day I do nothing but go to chop wood in the morning and return at night. At home, I have never endured such toil." The Taoist smiled and said, "I originally thought you could not bear hardship, and now it is indeed so. Tomorrow morning I shall send you back." Wang Qi said, "Your disciple has labored here for many days; I beg you, Master, to teach me a small skill, so that this journey will not have been in vain." The Taoist asked, "What skill do you wish to learn?" Scholar Wang replied, "I have often seen you, Master, walk through walls without obstruction. If I could learn this art, I would be content." The Taoist smiled and agreed. Then he taught Wang the incantation, and after Wang recited it himself, the Taoist called out, "Enter!" Wang faced the wall but dared not go in. The Taoist said again, "Try walking in." Wang indeed advanced slowly, but when he reached the wall, he was blocked. The Taoist said, "Lower your head and rush in quickly; do not hesitate!" Wang then, from a few paces away, charged straight at the wall and entered. Once inside the wall, it seemed empty and without substance; turning back to look, his body was indeed already outside the wall. Overjoyed, Wang went back to thank his master. The Taoist said, "When you return, live a pure and upright life, or the spell will not work." Then he gave Wang traveling expenses and sent him home.
Upon returning home, Scholar Wang boasted loudly that he had encountered an immortal and learned magical arts, claiming that even solid walls could not obstruct his passage. His wife did not believe him. So Wang imitated his actions from the previous day, running toward the wall from a few feet away, only to crash headlong into the hard barrier and fall heavily to the ground. His wife helped him up and saw a lump as large as an egg swelling on his forehead. She mocked him, and Wang, feeling both ashamed and enraged, cursed the old Taoist as a worthless scoundrel.
The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: Those who hear of this matter cannot help but burst into laughter, yet they do not realize that men like Scholar Wang are truly not few in this world. Now there exists a kind of vulgar and coarse person who delights in things as harmful as disease and poison, yet fears remedies that heal and cure; thus a band of flatterers steps forward, presenting him with methods to display power and wield violence, catering to his inclinations, and deceiving him by saying: 'Master this art and put it to use, and you may stride unopposed across the entire world.' At first, when he tries it, there may be some small effect, and so he believes that the vast realm under heaven can be handled in this manner. Such a person will never stop until he dashes against a hard wall and breaks his head, streaming with blood.
Commentary
If one were to include the pursuit of the Way within the broad scope of acquiring knowledge, then "The Taoist Priest of Laoshan" is a tale of considerable educational and pedagogical significance.
In learning any knowledge, one must pass two barriers: first, to lay a solid foundation; if the foundation is not firm, it is difficult to delve deeply into anything. Second, one must endure hardship, as there is no shortcut to be taken. Scholar Wang could not overcome these two barriers, and thus naturally could not learn the Way.
However, the pursuit of learning also requires a more fundamental premise: one must be virtuous in conduct, upright in heart, and possess noble ideals and aspirations. Without ideals and aspirations, learning lacks enduring motivation. Thus, although Wang Sheng, after witnessing the illusory spectacle of drinking and female musicians, felt longing and admiration, temporarily abandoning his thoughts of returning home, he still could not persevere. Later in the tale, when Wang Sheng, before leaving Mount Lao, begged the Taoist to teach him the art of drilling through walls and leaping over obstacles, it fully exposed his vile soul. When he flaunted this art before his wife, only to suddenly fall and raise a bump on his forehead, this became the most comedic episode in the story.
Wang Sheng's status was that of "a scion of an old and distinguished family." If we consider Pu Songling's long teaching career among the gentry and scholar-official households, this tale might well have been directly composed by him in response to his students' "delicate laziness and inability to endure hardship."
The depiction of the Laoshan Taoist cutting paper into a moon is vivid and ethereal, brimming with the charm of a fairy tale. Based on the records in the "Spiritual Traces" section of Feng Menglong's "A Comprehensive Survey of Ancient and Modern Tales" from the Ming dynasty, under the entries "Paper Moon, Capturing the Moon, Retaining the Moon," it is highly likely that Pu Songling drew upon related accounts from Tang dynasty tales and beyond.