The residence on the immortal isle was built against the mountainside, with the hot spring enclosed in its rear garden. The cliffs embracing the spring served naturally as courtyard walls. The residence could not compare with the glittering grandeur of Danxiao Palace, but it had a charm of its own, drawn from the landscape. It was ideally suited to seclusion for immortal partners like Danzhu and Bihua Lingjun.
Spending every day inseparable from Qingxi and every evening bathing with him in the hot spring, Danzhu felt utterly content. Surely this was the sort of life together that people said was better than being an immortal.
Occasionally he went somewhere else with Bihua Lingjun. Bihua still brought fluffy little spirit beasts home from time to time. In quieter moments the two would sit in the tall pavilion in their garden and look across the vast sea. Sometimes His Imperial Majesty would even reach out and stroke the creatures’ fur alongside Bihua.
At night, after they bathed, Bihua would dress him and comb his hair, and Danzhu felt more comfortable and content than ever.
Yet after some time, Danzhu gradually began to wonder. With Qingxi beside him as his companion, he ought never to feel lonely again. Why, then, was he becoming increasingly… empty?
The immortal isle was lovely enough, but after two or three years it began to feel small, even cramped.
After spending every day with Bihua Lingjun for a dozen or so years, they had more or less said everything there was to say. To relieve his boredom, Danzhu even learned to play chess, though he had always hated it. After another two or three years of play, chess only made his head ache more and more.
They could have gone down to the mortal world whenever they pleased, but for some reason there was nowhere they particularly wanted to visit, and neither had much inclination to go.
To Danzhu, their days had become like the hot spring itself: neither cold nor truly scalding, forever lukewarm, calm, and undisturbed.
Only their dual cultivation still left him thoroughly satisfied. But what troubled him most was that, no matter how he compared them, Bihua Lingjun treated him remarkably like the handful of fluffy immortal beasts.
Qingxi remained close beside him as they walked, sat, lay down, or rose. But Qingxi was also constantly accompanied by one or two, or sometimes four or five, little spirit beasts.
Qingxi bathed with him every night. He also bathed the spirit beasts every day.
Qingxi dressed him and combed his hair. He also scratched the spirit beasts and combed their fur.
…
After comparing these things one by one, Danzhu asked Bihua one night as they lay in bed after bathing, “Qingxi, which do you find easier to take care of, me or those spirit beasts?”
Bihua Lingjun bent down to kiss his neck. “How could you compare the two?”
Danzhu gave a small hum, eyes narrowed, and loosened Bihua Lingjun’s sash. This part really was different. There was no comparing it.
But apart from that one thing?
The more Danzhu thought about it, the lonelier he felt.
Sometimes he remembered the days when he had roamed freely between Heaven and Earth, exhilarated and unconstrained.
The sword in his hand and the clouds beneath his feet had all been real.
The immortals kneeling before him, the demon blood spraying beneath his sword: those too had been real.
Even later in Danxiao Palace, the younger immortals coming and going, the rich fragrance of celestial wine and the sweetness of fine fruit had been tangible things, things he could take hold of, certain and real.
He found himself dwelling on these memories again and again, and whenever he did, he could not help sighing.
One evening he lay on the bed, lazily closing his eyes, his mind elsewhere. As Bihua Lingjun pulled the embroidered quilt over him, he suddenly asked, “Why are you sighing?”
“Oh, nothing,” Danzhu said. “Perhaps I was, a moment ago.”
Bihua Lingjun sat beside him, lowered his head, and looked at Danzhu. Slowly he said, “In the mortal world, love has an opposite besides everlasting devotion. There is another word for it: weariness.”
Danzhu abruptly frowned. “Qingxi, what are you saying?”
Bihua Lingjun smiled, propped his head on one hand, and half-reclined beside him. “Danzhu, you and I have been on this immortal isle for over thirty years now, haven’t we?”
“Mm. Only a little more than thirty years,” Danzhu replied.
“Over thirty years is no brief time in the mortal world. It is enough for a person to grow from birth beyond the age of thirty, or from youth to white-haired old age.”
Danzhu opened his eyes. “Qingxi, what exactly are you trying to say?”
Bihua Lingjun answered, “If the days pass before you even notice, it means you’re enjoying them. If every day feels longer than the last, then perhaps it’s time to change the way you live. That’s what I mean. Thirty-odd years is long enough. If you’ve grown weary, you could try something different.”
Danzhu stared straight into Bihua Lingjun’s eyes without speaking.
Bihua smiled again. “Your Imperial Majesty, wasn’t the reason you chose to be with this humble immortal that you wanted not to feel lonely?” He adjusted Danzhu’s cloud quilt. “If you’ve begun to feel lonely and bored, then perhaps you should make a change.”
Danzhu kept staring at him. Then he closed his eyes, murmured assent, lifted the quilt to cover Bihua Lingjun too, and pulled open the front of his robes.
Bihua Lingjun seemed to sigh as well. “Alas, Your Imperial Majesty, you…”
His sigh dissolved into the air. In the end he bent down and kissed Danzhu on the lips.
The next day Danzhu wandered alone in a secluded place, gazing into empty space, entirely lost in thought.
The mouse Jianmeng came to his feet and looked up. “Why is Your Imperial Majesty so distracted?”
Danzhu said pensively, “I often hear that married couples quarrel in the mortal world. Qingxi and I are practically husband and husband, an old married couple by now. After being together for so long, last night we finally had a disagreement. Perhaps some attitude of mine made Qingxi unhappy. How am I supposed to coax him back into a better mood?”
Jianmeng scratched behind his ear with one paw. “Well, this humble one has no experience with that and cannot help Your Imperial Majesty.”
Still deep in thought, Danzhu continued, “Surely all couples must be much like Qingxi and me, two people facing one another. Isn’t the point of becoming partners to have someone beside you, so you won’t be lonely?”
Jianmeng scratched his scalp again. “Well… this humble one has no experience with that either… and can’t judge it for Your Imperial Majesty…”
Danzhu sighed and remained lost in thought.
Bihua Lingjun made the bed and watered a few immortal plants in the rear garden. When he reached the front hall, he found Jianmeng drinking tea with Tangdi, the black tortoise, and the others. Jianmeng said, “His Imperial Majesty said he wanted to take a stroll and went out alone. Judging from the direction, he may have gone to the mortal world.”
Danzhu had indeed descended to the mortal world. For the first time, he restrained his usual dazzling habits, taking the form of an ordinary-looking middle-aged scholar as he strolled through a town market.
He entered a bookshop and looked around. Although his appearance was plain, an unmistakably extraordinary bearing still radiated from his very bones. The shopkeeper therefore came forward to greet him personally. “Sir, are you looking for a book?”
Danzhu surveyed the volumes on display and nodded. “Mm. Some books to consult.”
The shopkeeper asked, “By ‘consult,’ you mean…” He studied Danzhu, then smiled with sudden understanding and rubbed his fingers together. “That sort of thing…?”
“Mm,” said Danzhu.
The shopkeeper’s smile blossomed brilliantly. He rummaged beneath the counter for a while, then rose and came close to Danzhu, discreetly revealing one corner of a dark-blue book. “Perhaps this will suit you, sir. Pengzu’s Secret Thirty-Six Positions. You won’t find another copy of this rare edition anywhere else.”
Danzhu took it, opened it, and looked through it. “Mm. This is a book about dual cultivation between men and women. It’s not what I’m looking for.”
The shopkeeper accepted the book with a smile. “Of course, of course. A gentleman with your bearing deserves something better. So, sir, what exactly do you wish to consult a book about?”
Danzhu frowned as he considered. “How should I put it? I’ve been together with someone for a very long time, but the longer we remain together, the lonelier I feel. It seems increasingly dull, and there’s an emptiness in my heart…”
The shopkeeper nodded in understanding. “Now I see. You and your special someone have been together for years, but lately things aren’t as good as they once were, and it’s growing more and more tedious. Is that it?”
Danzhu nodded. “Yes. He said this was called growing weary, and that we should try a change.”
The shopkeeper sighed. “Well, sir, your lady sounds very sensible. Perhaps she knows that your time together has run its course. When love is gone, it’s gone. You can’t force it back. There’s no happiness in forcing yourselves to stay together. Better to part on good terms.”
Danzhu asked, “But shouldn’t love endure forever?”
The shopkeeper answered, “You sound like a man who takes affection very seriously, sir, but ‘forever’ is only a manner of speaking. Even when a man marries his proper wife, people offer blessings such as ‘may you be together for a hundred years’ or ‘until your hair turns white.’ How many years is that? A hundred years is only a hundred years. Even that is considered the longest anyone can hope for. Everything has its end. Love, naturally, is no exception.”
With his hands behind his back, Danzhu thought in silence. Was this all there was to the truth of mortal love? After a moment he asked the shopkeeper, “Do you have books on this subject? I’d like to take a few back and study them.”
Danzhu returned to the immortal isle and entered his room. From his sleeves he produced book after book, stacking them in an enormous pile, then began studying them attentively one by one.
Bihua Lingjun made no comment and simply let Danzhu read in the room.
Tangdi and the others sensed that something had changed and seized an opportunity to peek inside. To their astonishment, the stack consisted entirely of mortal tales and romances, with titles such as Three Days of Fate, Half a Day’s Delight, A Brief Romance, Scholar Zhang’s Encounter with a Lovely Widow, and A Night with the Daughter of the Wang Family. All were stories about chance affairs, one-night passions, fleeting liaisons, short-lived lovers, illicit trysts, and adulterous romances.
Danzhu read them with intense concentration, stopping from time to time to ponder what he had read. Tangdi’s heart began to race with dread. Had His Imperial Majesty found a new love and decided to abandon Lingjun?
Bihua Lingjun behaved exactly as always, passing back and forth beside Danzhu as though he paid no attention to the books. He replaced cold tea with tea of the perfect warmth, refilled empty fruit dishes, peeled citrus fruits and removed pits from apricots, and even fetched a footstool and changed Danzhu’s cushion.
That evening they bathed together in the hot spring again. Bihua Lingjun massaged Danzhu’s shoulders for a while, and Danzhu, feeling extremely comfortable, put on his inner robe and lay down on a soft couch beside the pool, closing his eyes to rest. Bihua picked up a jade comb and smoothed Danzhu’s damp hair. “After reading so many books,” he asked, “what conclusions have you reached?”