Li Yousheng (2021)
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

It is said that the world’s affairs, after a long period of division, tend to unite; after a long period of unity, tend to divide. At the end of the Zhou Dynasty, the seven states fought for supremacy, eventually being unified by Qin. After the fall of Qin, the Chu and Han states fought for control, eventually being unified by Han, leading to the long historical narrative of the “Romance of the Three Kingdoms.” Han is a name synonymous with Chinese civilization, which encountered Western civilization after the Opium Wars. The West began its conquests in the Greek era, eventually being unified by the Roman Empire. With the fall of Rome, Christianity gained dominance, leading to religious wars and the decline of Christianity. European states then entered a five-hundred-year period of warfare reminiscent of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. The Austro-German Empire, playing a role similar to the Qin and Han dynasties, failed in its attempt to unify Europe by force. This is why there is current resentment within the United Nations and the impending bankruptcy of American hegemony; this is why there is global resource devastation and the extinction of plant and animal species; this is why teachers protect three- to five-year-old children who march through crowded streets holding banners with slogans that echo Mencius’s cry of “A child is about to fall into a well”:

“Please, grandparents, save your children! Don’t let them die in the destruction of the Earth’s environment!”

Now let’s return to the poem “Linjiang Xian” by Yang Shen of the Ming Dynasty, which is quoted at the beginning of “Romance of the Three Kingdoms”:

The mighty Yangtze River flows eastward, its waves washing away heroes. Right and wrong, success and failure, all vanish in the blink of an eye. The green hills remain, witnessing countless sunsets.

　　White-haired fishermen and woodcutters on the riverbank, accustomed to watching the autumn moon and spring breeze. A pot of murky wine brings joy in unexpected encounters. So many events, past and present, are all consigned to laughter and conversation.

The first half of this poem, “Linjiang Xian,” satirizes the fleeting glory of heroes throughout history, leaving only the landscape and the setting sun. The second half tells the story of an old man with white hair fishing on the great river, accustomed to the changing seasons. When he meets with friends and family for drinks, he uses the achievements of heroes throughout history and the mundane affairs of ordinary people as fodder for his laughter and conversation.

The story goes that this old man, who was fishing and drinking on the river and chatting about history, heard the cries of the child mentioned above, “The child is about to fall into the well,” from thousands of years later. The reason behind this is very simple: “The green mountains are no longer green, and the setting sun is no longer red.” The area of ​​green forests on Earth has shrunk rapidly, and the setting sun is submerged in the smog.

The old fisherman’s soul, traversing through time, surely knew that five thousand years of escalating wars in Western civilization had led to two world wars and the deaths of hundreds of millions, while cyclical turmoil in Chinese history had resulted in the loss of more than half the population. The cries of the war dead over millennia mingled with the cries of the child about to fall into the well, plunging the old fisherman’s heart into a turbulent, ever-present, and endless upheaval. The old man, troubled and confused, was at a loss for what to do.

Nourished by traditional Chinese culture, this old fisherman was a devout follower of Taoism. If Chinese scholars in history believed in Confucianism while in government and then embraced Taoism for health and well-being at home, this old fisherman, born into an ordinary rural family and spending his life fishing for pleasure and a living, was permeated with the essence of Taoist thought in every cell of his being.

For reasons unknown, this quintessential Taoist old man, in his distress and bewilderment, recalled a Buddhist rumor he had heard in his youth about the reincarnation of souls. It’s unclear how many days and years this old fisherman had been tormented by this distress and bewilderment, but he ultimately had no choice but to seek help from this rumor of reincarnation. Whether it was because the rumor of reincarnation was undeniably true, or because the old fisherman was driven to desperation, he succeeded on his first try and was able to reincarnate repeatedly, finally arriving in an era very close to the time of the aforementioned child crying out, “The child is about to fall into the well.”

Perhaps because in his previous life every cell in his body was nourished by the milk of Taoist thought, the soul of this old fisherman from thousands of years ago was reincarnated as the only Taoist master in the world today, a unique and unparalleled master throughout history. His full title at this time is Reality and Illusion True Man, or simply Reality and Illusion True Man Master.

This Master of Reality and Illusion was not born a Master of Reality and Illusion, but rather the result of a lifetime of diligent cultivation. Behind this lifelong diligent cultivation was an unparalleled, dream-like pursuit. His family said that this dream-like pursuit was innate, because no one else in his family for generations had such a dream-like pursuit.

He was born into an ordinary family in a remote rural village. His parents were ordinary farmers, just like any other farming family in China at the time: they owned a piece of land and were able to support themselves. His parents named him “Qingshi” (青柿), because it was a local custom to name children after common objects, such as “Da Niu” (大牛) or “Er Gou” (二狗). The area was also famous for its persimmons, so his parents named him Qingshi. The first “Qing” (青) was simply a wish for him to grow up healthy and strong.

The boy grew to be slightly taller than his peers, which aroused his parents’ hopes for a male descendant with immense strength. His family began to call him “Big Persimmon,” but who would have thought that “Big Persimmon” would be misheard as “Master”? Perhaps because of this, when he later became a monk, he simply dropped the character “Persimmon” and named himself “Qingqing.” But that’s another story.

But on the boy’s fifth birthday, his family prepared cakes and other treats to celebrate. After the family gathered around him, cheering and jumping for joy, the five-year-old boy said something that no one could understand:

“I wish to pay my respects to the Master!”

The family members, bewildered, said: “What does this child want? A real persimmon? Is there any difference between a real and a fake persimmon?”

The child ignored his family’s questions and repeated again and again, “I want to meet a Taoist master! I want to learn the Tao, and when I grow up, I want to become a Taoist master!”

Only then did the family realize something was amiss, and they had to consult a scholar or similar figure from a neighboring village. It was then that they understood the true meaning of the saying. Faced with this five-year-old boy, the scholar, deeply impressed by the unusual situation, urged the family to go to a famous Taoist temple nearby to invite a master from there.

The family traveled dozens of miles to visit three so-called “true masters,” but upon hearing that the child was only five years old, they all flatly refused. They said, “How can a five-year-old child be so serious about learning the Tao? If the family is so serious, then let the family teach him the Tao first.”

The family thought their words made sense. Although the child kept asking to become a disciple and learn Taoism, the family acted as if they hadn’t heard him. Everything continued as usual, and no one in the family tried to teach the child anything about Taoism, because they didn’t know what Taoism was either. After two or three months, people gradually forgot about the incident. Suddenly one day, two mule-drawn carriages stopped in front of their door, and a Taoist master dressed in Taoist robes stepped out, wanting to pay his respects to the five-year-old prodigy.

The master approached the five-year-old child with a bowed and clasped hands gesture of respect. The child was already prostrate on the ground, repeatedly kowtowing to the master. The master helped the child up, assisted him into the prepared mule-drawn carriage, and instructed his parents to accompany him. After discussion, the family decided that only the child’s father would accompany him.

On the way, the master gave a brief self-introduction to the father. It turned out that they were different from the three masters the father’s family had previously sought out. Those three were ordinary Taoist temples and meditation centers, the kind that were everywhere in the country, places where people lived and mingled. They were going to an extremely simple Taoist temple deep in the mountains, where those who practiced were people who had finally severed ties with worldly society; they were to cultivate in the deep mountains until they were completely integrated with nature. However, the people practicing at this master’s temple were all adults, but the master’s teacher’s teacher had begun practicing in childhood, thus creating their unique and exclusive Taoist practice center, far removed from the secular world.

At this point, the master covered his mouth with his hand and whispered, “The purpose of our cultivation is to detach ourselves from worldly affairs and eventually merge with nature, but there is an unexpected gain, which is immortality. My teacher’s teacher’s teacher told us that one of their predecessors grew tired of worldly life in his childhood, became a monk, and is now over a hundred years old, but still looks like a young man.”

Before reaching their destination, they returned the two mule-drawn carriages, which the Master had rented. Afterward, the father and son followed the Master on foot into the deep, uninhabited mountains and forests. They walked for an unknown amount of time before they discovered a simple dwelling under a towering tree, which was the Master’s Taoist temple.

There were already five or six adults practicing Taoist cultivation in the temple, dressed as Taoist priests. Around the temple were a few fields, growing flowers, vegetables, and of course, a few crops of grain. The fields were so small that the father could only assume the owners were detached from worldly concerns. It seemed to be a relatively gentle hillside, surrounded by endless towering trees; the blue sky and white clouds were barely visible, let alone mountains and rivers. The father muttered to himself: “A living person coming here is practically dead; what use is immortality?”

After arriving at the Taoist temple, the father and son, along with other people seeking enlightenment, studied and cultivated the Tao under the guidance of a master. The child felt as if he were back home, handling everything with ease and fluency, while his father was clumsy and often at a loss. After a few days, seeing that his son was doing well and that he himself was still unable to adapt, the father took his leave and went home.

This five-year-old boy, now named Qingqing, has been practicing meditation in this famous Taoist temple for fifteen years. During these fifteen years, his parents have visited him twice, but seeing that he was wholeheartedly devoted to his practice and had no other concerns, they felt relieved and went back home.

When Qingqing reached the age of twenty, the True Man Master felt inadequate and said, “You have nothing more to learn from me. Your cultivation level has already surpassed mine. Our small Taoist temple can only accommodate one True Man Master. You are still young and I cannot hinder your future. I can only recommend you to my teacher.”

Thus, Qingqing entered another secluded Taoist temple to learn cultivation from another True Master. Several years later, she was recommended to another, even higher True Master. After repeating this process several times, she finally reached the last one, the only remaining True Master in the world with the highest level of cultivation, the one who had attained immortality in her youth through learning the Tao.

This immortal master had no apprentices; he lived alone in the mountains, far removed from the human world. He treated people as companions rather than as master and disciple. So when the two met, they bowed to each other and finally prostrated themselves on the ground.

As the two rose together, the only remaining true master in the world introduced himself, saying, “Many years ago, when I was cultivating with my fellow Taoist practitioners, they called me the Natural True Man. You can just call me the Natural True Man, or Natural. May I ask your name?”

“When I became a monk at the age of five, I was given the name Reality Dream, or simply Real Illusion, which means Real Illusion True Man.”

Master Tianran exclaimed, “I also became a monk at the age of five and dreamed that I would meet a fellow practitioner who was exactly the same as me. But I was disappointed for many years. I never thought that it would come true today. It’s not that I’m looking for you, but that you’re looking for me.”

Upon hearing this, it seemed that the True Immortal had found the companion he had been dreaming of all his life, another self in the world. Needless to say, the two immediately became inseparable and kindred spirits, or more precisely, they became fellow Daoists.

When the real-life immortal saw that his friend was younger than him, while the man was already a centenarian, he couldn’t help but ask him about the secret to immortality.

Upon hearing this, the Natural Immortal laughed loudly and said, “There is no secret to immortality. It’s just a matter of cultivating more diligently and earnestly than others.”

Real Person Shi Huan was momentarily confused and unsure how to ask a question, so he just kept muttering softly, “That…that…that…that…?”

The underlying question is: Can the cultivation practices that everyone in Taoist temples knows about, that everyone practices every day in Taoist temples, and that even many ordinary people and teachers outside the temples know about, lead to immortality? If so, then why hasn’t anyone truly achieved immortality?

Then the True Man of Nature explained: “When you are seriously cultivating, you close your eyes and sit there, forgetting everything in the world and everything around you, focusing your whole heart and soul on the nothingness of the Great Dao, and wholeheartedly becoming one with the nothingness of the Great Dao.”

The real-life figure continued, “Then…then…then…then…then…?” What about the underlying issues? What would happen if they were done that way?

The Natural True Man continued, “When you are cultivating so diligently with all your heart, have you noticed that your whole body and mind are gradually approaching the infinite Dao, and your whole body and mind are gradually calming down? At first, you are aware of the rise and fall of your abdominal muscles and the air coming in and out of your nose, but after that, everything returns to nothingness.”

Real Person Shi Huan then recalled, “My companions said I was cultivating well because they secretly placed a small piece of paper under my nose while I was cultivating. They said that at first the paper was floating up and down, but then it stopped moving for a long time. They said I stopped breathing.”

The Natural True Man was overjoyed upon hearing this. This was a true companion of equal skill. He paused for a moment, then said, “When you stop breathing, you also stop your heartbeat. Over time, your body temperature will drop to the temperature of the surrounding air. During that period, you will live forever. What’s so strange about that?”

At this moment, the True Immortal muttered to himself, “If I continue to cultivate like that forever, without ever stopping, I will become an Eternal True Immortal!”

Natural Person nodded and said, “Yes!”

Only ordinary people would say: that an eternal immortal whose heartbeat and breath have stopped is equivalent to death, no different from the death of an ordinary person. But the real immortal and the natural immortal are of one mind: this is not the same as death. The difference and mystery between them are beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

From then on, the Real Person Reality immediately felt that the Natural Real Person Master in front of him knew more than him and had a higher level of cultivation. He was his companion and his teacher.

From then on, True Immortal Reality devoted himself wholeheartedly to cultivation with True Immortal Naturalness. This place was a cultivation site specially chosen by True Immortal Naturalness. It was on a hillside, covering an area of ​​five or six acres, covered with various trees, while the outer edge of one or two acres was filled with flowers and grasses, facing the natural scenery of mountains, streams, and bright sunshine. A small stream also flowed through this land. This cultivation site also led to the surrounding mountains, but it required climbing two sets of stairs, each about ten feet high. People could walk up and down, but tigers and wolves could not climb up.

Looking around this ideal place for cultivation, True Immortal Shihuan suddenly thought of his first Taoist temple, where he had cultivated for fifteen years, living under a dark and sunless forest all day long. Ordinary men like himself could only cultivate to the point of being able to stop breathing in that dark and secluded world. Only after many years of hard work and approaching the level of a True Immortal could they be qualified to enjoy cultivation in this green mountain and clear water.

During their subsequent cultivation together, True Person Reality Illusion felt he had learned a great deal from True Person Naturalness, while True Person Naturalness constantly claimed to have learned many new things from True Person Reality Illusion. It can only be said that these two learned from each other’s strengths, complemented each other’s weaknesses, and progressed through mutual learning. Ultimately, both reached a state of perfect harmony with the Great Dao, able to do as they pleased at all times and in all places, entering a state of stillness and death where there was no breath or heartbeat.

The True Man of Reality believed that it was the teachings of the True Man of Nature that enabled him to obtain the cooperation and tacit approval of the Great Dao, allowing him to awaken at a predetermined time after entering a state of stillness and death. Just as people can wake up at a predetermined time after sleeping, so as not to miss work or appointments with friends the next day.

In short, when the Natural True Person and the Real Illusion True Person cultivate and enter a state of stillness and death, they will both awaken at the same time at the agreed time. They never need one person to awaken first and then try to wake the other.

When they had nothing to do, the two would inevitably talk about what the world would be like in the future, that is, the ideal state of the future, how to return to the unity of heaven and man, instead of the current separation of heaven and man to the point where humanity is committing heinous acts. At that time, heaven and man will be in unity, everyone will be a true person, and there will be no need for Taoist temples and cultivation.

At this time, the True Immortal of Reality had a novel idea: he wanted to remain in a state of stillness for three hundred years to see what the 23rd century would be like, and whether the unity of heaven and man would truly exist then. The True Immortal of Nature, upon hearing this, dissuaded the True Immortal of Reality from having such a thought. Wouldn’t remaining in stillness for three hundred years be equivalent to death? With constant cultivation, each period of stillness lasting three to five days, or even three to five months, one would awaken as a fully alive person, not to mention the effects of prolonging life and achieving immortality. Three hundred years, however, was a completely different matter. The True Immortal of Nature had never even considered remaining in stillness for a hundred years before. Who knew what changes the Earth would undergo in those three hundred years? If an earthquake caused mountains to crumble, or if a meteorite shower fell from the sky, the still body would turn into a pulp. The True Man of Reality and Illusion was reassured, leaving no room for change. He said that even if he were struck by meteorites in the sky during these three hundred years, it would be worth it, because it would be a sacrifice for his pursuit of the Taoist ideal state.

In the end, it was the Natural Immortal who gave up trying to dissuade them and helped fulfill the wishes of his teacher, friend, and companion. He advised the Real Illusion Immortal to lie flat instead of in his usual meditation posture, as lying flat was safer and more conducive to the body’s rest. After this decision was made, the two of them searched together for a safe place where one person could lie flat for three hundred years without any accidents.

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When our Master of Reality and Illusion awoke again after countless years, he first slowly began to breathe and his heartbeat, gradually warming his body and restoring the strength to his muscles. If it were an ordinary person like you or me, we might have to stretch out our arms and legs to enter this world. Master of Reality and Illusion, however, remained motionless upon waking. He first inhaled the fragrance of nearby flowers through his nose, then listened intently to the distant birdsong, before slowly opening his eyes to examine the blue sky and white clouds above and the surrounding trees, mountains, and rivers: this was a world completely different from the mountain peaks and forests where he had died peacefully hundreds of years ago, a world where wildflowers bloomed and green mountains and clear waters exuded wondrous craftsmanship, a world that this unparalleled Master of Reality and Illusion had dreamed of but never attained.

After an unknown period of time, our master of illusion and reality learned that a group of people were walking towards the spot where he was lying on his back. He decided to greet these strangers from a completely unfamiliar world in his posture that had remained unchanged for hundreds of years.

This group, comprising men, women, and children of all ages, numbered about forty or fifty. The children were clearly with their mothers or parents. They walked and picked fruit, eating it as they went. Their nonchalant manner suggested a leisurely stroll appreciating the natural scenery rather than a fruit-picking activity. Although mostly walking individually, they were clearly a group, heading in the same direction without straying too far from each other.

Perhaps because the area around the Master of Reality and Illusion was overgrown with weeds, the adults passing by didn’t notice him. The first to see him were two children, who shouted loudly to summon their mother and parents. Finally, two or three adult women helped the Master of Reality and Illusion to his feet.

After standing up, Master Shihuan first demonstrated to the women who had helped him up that he was strong and healthy, without the slightest ailment. After stretching his legs, he rolled over.

At this point, everyone gathered around and asked him why he had been lying there for so long. Master Shihuan couldn’t tell them the truth right away, but he said that he had felt tired while walking in the mountains with others, just like them, and had fallen asleep on the ground. He didn’t know how long it had been before he woke up, and he expressed his willingness to join them to enjoy the natural scenery and pick wild fruits together.

At this moment, the eldest of the old men came over to welcome the new member and accompanied him on a walk and foraging trip to help him get used to their customs. The old man introduced himself as John, so Master Shihuan had to use his childhood name, saying, “Please call me Huanshi!”

Our Mr. Huanshi, of course, stayed close to Mr. John, carefully waiting and subtly inquiring about the daily routines of these people.

These people seem closer to the ideal of the Taoist sages, wandering like animals for extended periods, even their entire lives. Each night they gather to sleep in a large building, then choose the content of their next day’s wanderings, sometimes leaving their current group to join other similar groups. The content of this daily wandering seems vastly different, even containing the heinous crimes of ancient human wars. John emphasizes that these wars feel as real as reality, yet are a fantasy of the digital world.

After a long walk and conversation with John and his companion, the old gentleman finally dared to raise a fundamental question that had been on his mind for a long time:

“Mr. John, I hope you won’t take offense, but I have a question I don’t understand: you seem to be completely different from me. I am a Han Chinese, or Chinese, and I speak Chinese. How can you understand me? Do you also speak Chinese?”

Mr. John was not surprised by Mr. Huanshi’s question. He paused for a moment before slowly explaining, “I’ve been asked similar questions before, because I’m one of the very few who know the answer. Not every group has an elder who understands this, and very few people even think of such a question. He’s only been asked it two or three times in his life. Because generations have lived like this, like birds in the sky and fish in the water: it…” We don’t ask the heavens and the earth why they fly and swim. Only an old and dreamy person like myself knows that we humans were once like birds, speaking only like birdsong, serving only to amuse each other. Even so, the birdsong passed down through generations differed from north to south and east to west, and it had simple meanings, such as: “I am here, will you fly here to be with me?” and so on. But in humans… The meanings of these bird-like expressions gradually became complex, forming a world of their own. Thousands of years ago, a book called the Bible said that God caused humans to speak different languages ​​to prevent them from collaborating and creating ideas that surpassed His own. Afterwards, humans speaking different languages ​​waged war against each other. Faced with humans themselves, whose cannibalistic abilities were billions of times greater than those of tigers and wolves, human intelligence developed rapidly, eventually leading to this world of computerized, cyborgs where everyone’s wishes are fulfilled. It’s just making murder a fantasy. This computer-generated world forces all humans to speak the same language. Even if anyone is capable of speaking different languages, this computer-generated world will convert them into a single, universally understandable language. Thousands of years ago, there was some Taoist doctrine that called for humanity to return to nature. Today, we’re like birdsong again, the world as black as crows, everyone speaking the same language, albeit a complex one.

Mr. Huanshi suddenly realized, but was also somewhat puzzled. “There’s no computer network system around us!” he thought. Mr. Huanshi looked around, then touched the back of his head, before turning a questioning look to Mr. John. Mr. John apologized and said:

“I forgot to mention that modern computer systems, like other human structures, are buried underground and within mountains, ensuring a perpetually green and pristine world on the Earth’s surface. Everything is now wireless, allowing computer systems to communicate silently with each of us, and of course, understand our thoughts…”

At this point, Mr. John paused for a moment before saying, “Don’t worry, we each have our own right to privacy, because computer systems are not human after all. Only when someone is about to commit murder will the computer system issue a stern warning. If the person continues to kill, the computer system will then virtualize the murder, giving the person a realistic murder process and experience, but it’s all virtual. Even so, the computer system will punish the person as a murderer, subjecting them to extreme mental and physical pain, even death, if they insist on continuing to kill.”

After saying the word “death,” Mr. John paused, unsure of what to do. After a long silence, he slowly said, “Mr. Huanshi, you are new here, and I don’t know how to explain this to you: Death existed in the human world hundreds of years ago, but we humans living in the computer age do not die. Even this kind of execution only kills the body, not the spirit: the individual’s subjective consciousness simply enters the undifferentiated subjective consciousness of humanity.”

Mr. John then emphasized to Mr. Huan Shi: “The merging of the human subject and the computer subject eliminates the possibility of death: the individual’s subjective consciousness enters the group of undifferentiated human subjective consciousness, which is death. While a person is alive, they can enter this group of undifferentiated subjective consciousness from time to time. Death is equivalent to entering and never coming out. As for the corpse, people simply treat it as being carried into the human body warehouse for processing after falling asleep.”

Mr. Huan Shi thought to himself: Isn’t this the concept of life and death being equal, as described in Zhuangzi’s “Discourse on the Equality of Things”?

Afterward, Mr. Huan Shi and Mr. John walked together, picking fruit and admiring the beautiful scenery. They strolled upstream along a gentle stream, its slope barely steep, like flat ground. The vegetation was like a wild forest, untouched by human cultivation, yet there seemed to be far more fruit trees than in Mr. Huan Shi’s world, but each tree bore far fewer fruits than the cultivated trees in his world. Mr. Huan Shi could only explain to himself: this was the true nature of the natural world. The world he had lived in before was the human world, where humans had transplanted all the fruit trees from nature to their own orchards, thus selecting and breeding high-yielding varieties over generations. Mr. Huan Shi also secretly observed Mr. John and the others, trying to imitate them to avoid arousing suspicion with his unusual behavior. To Mr. Huanshi’s surprise, he found himself no different from the group of people. They were a group of idle wanderers who had not come to fill their stomachs with wild fruit, nor were they attracted by the scenery, as they had already seen countless beautiful sights.

Once, while picking wild fruits, Mr. Huan Shi noticed a fat, large locust nearby and casually caught it. When he looked at it, he found that what he held in his hand was a piece of cooked meat. He put it in his mouth and tasted it, and it was sweet and delicious.

At this point, Mr. John saw this and explained to him, “We can choose all kinds of meat for dinner, or any food you like; there’s everything you could want. Only those who don’t eat dinner and go straight to sleep gather meat and other artificial foods in the forest. We live a natural life, following the Taoist principle of returning to nature, without any artificial influence!”

Mr. Huan could only apologize for his behavior, and Mr. John laughed and said, “It’s alright, just don’t do it again.”

At this moment, our Mr. Huan Shi finally had the mind to fully appreciate the surrounding environment: green mountains and clear waters, without any trace of human intervention, such as human buildings or farmland. Birds flew overhead, fish swam underwater, and there were no airplanes or ships.

As for the animals, all that could be seen were rabbits and squirrels, and a couple of wild deer that occasionally peeked out from the edge of the woods a little further away. Perhaps because he had been staring at the distant woods for a long time, Mr. Huan suddenly saw a huge tiger in the woods, and he was terrified, not knowing how to escape for a moment.

Mr. John burst out laughing and explained, “This tiger doesn’t hurt people. Our world’s wireless communication system can prevent any animal from doing anything that might harm a person by sending a command to their brain to stop immediately. As for this tiger, because it is much larger than a human, our wireless communication system doesn’t allow it to be less than ten meters away from any human. The tiger is always more than ten meters away from us.”

After hearing this, Mr. Huanshi finally felt at ease, realizing how safe and reliable this world of harmony between humanity and nature was, and that there was only one thing left in life: to enjoy the present moment.

Mr. John added in a low voice, “But we can also choose the thrilling experience of fighting tigers and wolves, where they are all around us and our only weapons are sticks and swords.”

Mr. Huan muttered to himself, “In this world where wireless communication systems are infinitely advanced, is the thrilling life of fighting tigers and wolves real, or is it an illusion inputted into our minds by wireless communication systems?”

Perhaps Mr. Huanshi was talking too quietly to himself, because Mr. John did not hear him and did not respond, nor did Mr. Huanshi expect him to respond.

John, Mr. Huan Shi, and their companions were now walking on a hillside, below which flowed a narrow stream, and across which lay a medium-sized lake. The lake offered a vast vista, with green hills contrasting against the blue sky and white clouds in the background. These hills had only one or two steep, gray-blue rocks exposed, unlike the barren mountains and ridges that Mr. Huan Shi had remembered.

At that moment, Mr. Huanshi was completely immersed in the beautiful scenery of the green mountains and clear waters before him, his whole body seemingly permeated with poetic beauty, and he secretly began to recite in his heart. Suddenly, he heard the forty or fifty people singing along with him, and he couldn’t help but sing out loud as well. Only then did Mr. Huanshi realize that ever since he joined this group of tourists, he had been in this silent or audible chorus, only appearing and disappearing intermittently. Humanity’s distant ancestors, apes, formed societies by grooming each other’s fur; naked humans replaced this with language and song. In Taoism, human life is seen as an eternally sung song.

At this moment, Mr. Huanshi suddenly wondered if the landscape before him was the place where he had died three hundred years ago, only now overgrown with trees and flowers. Mr. Huanshi began to look around, trying to recall his memories from three hundred years ago, but ended in utter failure. Rather than saying that three hundred years of change had completely created a new world, it would be more accurate to say that the ultimate ideal world of Taoism, the unity of heaven and man, is a unique world in the universe, a world completely different from any other human world.

At this moment, Mr. Huanshi followed everyone and walked with Mr. John to a relatively spacious area nearby, which was just like the countryside in Mr. Huanshi’s memory. This place was not a field of weeds, nor was it a field of various crops, but a mixture of both.

The area is covered with flowers and grasses about a foot tall, interspersed with various crops that grow above the grass, including a patch or two of sunflowers. Although these crops tend to grow in small patches, they still grow on the weeds, likely due to the crops falling to the ground in the fall and growing wild the following year.

Before entering the meadow, the group of forty or fifty people seemed to be embarking on a new adventure, eager to celebrate this slightly novel experience. Standing haphazardly together, facing the meadow they were about to enter, they spontaneously burst into song. As they sang, they danced on the spot, and Mr. Huanshi realized then that this was a song with a slightly different style.

After everyone finished singing and dancing, they walked together into the farmland and meadow. Then, Mr. Huanshi and the people began a song of life with a slightly different tone and content.

When they reached a cornfield, Mr. Huanshi, like the others, casually picked an ear of corn, peeled off the husk, and started eating it. To his great surprise, the corn tasted cooked, unlike the unpleasant raw corn he used to steal and eat in the fields as a child. He naturally cast a suspicious glance at Mr. John and the others around him, but they seemed completely oblivious to his astonishment; they clearly didn’t share his surprise. Mr. Huanshi could only swallow the question that was on the tip of his tongue: Taoism emphasizes returning to one’s roots; prehistoric hunter-gatherers ate raw corn every day, just as civilized humans eat cooked corn—there was no distinction between raw and cooked. Upon realizing this, Mr. Huan Shi was naturally overjoyed. He had become one with the Great Dao, and the world of the Great Dao was a world full of surprises.

After that, Mr. Huanshi ate wheat and various beans, which were all sweet and delicious. He ate a little more than usual, but he ate less at dinner.

As the sun set and the evening glow painted the sky, they arrived at the foot of a mountain. From a distance, they had only seen a few people chatting in a pavilion, but upon closer inspection, they realized it was a vast public space providing meals and lodging for travelers. The buildings themselves were all built underground within the mountain, with only the entrance facing the hillside and a grassy area for people to stroll on.

The group that Mr. Huanshi joined originally consisted of 48 people, but with Mr. Huanshi, it became 49. Mr. John even smiled and said to the person who was receiving them, “We have 49 people, 49 seats, one more than originally planned, which is our Mr. Huanshi who joined us halfway through.”

Mr. John then pulled Mr. Huanshi in front of the host, pointed to the different table patterns the host was showing, and said, “To welcome our new guest, let’s choose this round table for our meal!”

As Mr. John and the others surged in, Mr. Huan Shi lagged behind a few steps. The receptionist leaned over and whispered in Mr. Huan Shi’s ear with a laugh, “You’re just someone who joined someone else’s group along the way. This is nothing. But this Mr. John is a genuine alien. He knows a lot and knows many things that others don’t.”

Afterwards, the host led everyone to a round table next to another table of different types, and only left after everyone had sat down.

This is a large round dining table around which forty-nine people sit, each with their own cutlery and napkins. Inside is a constantly rotating table, with various foods laid out around it for diners to choose from at any time. At the center of this rotating round table is a large computer screen facing the diners, displaying different images and information, as well as showing the diners at the table. Each diner can see all forty-nine people at the table through their screen and can have face-to-face conversations with them. Between these large computer screens and in the central space, there are wooden puppets displaying captivating dance moves.

Mr. Huanshi was naturally seated next to Mr. John. Mr. Huanshi immediately noticed that the computer screen in front of him, like the rotating table with dishes to choose from, also constantly rotated, offering different options. Mr. Huanshi couldn’t help but become interested in a program on one of the screens and began watching intently. This screen automatically stopped, enlarged, and became the main image in his field of vision, thus obscuring the original image of the other diners. Mr. Huanshi glanced sideways at Mr. John beside him; he was clearly watching his own scene and program on the screen, meaning that Mr. Huanshi was watching his own program without disturbing the other diners.

Even so, Mr. Huan Shi felt it was inappropriate for him to be so engrossed in watching a single program, and whether it was in keeping with the atmosphere of the gathering. Moreover, as a newcomer, Mr. Huan Shi should have examined everything to get a general idea. There were at least hundreds, if not thousands, of television screens constantly rotating in front of him, providing entertainment for diners and allowing them to choose one to become part of their daily experience. In this harmonious world, television programs and real life were one; there was no distinction between illusion and reality.

Mr. Huan noticed that the screens in front of him were divided into upper and lower sections. The upper screen was smaller and required a slight tilt of the head to see; it was less popular and only available to a select few. The content of these screens was mostly far removed from real life, including many adventurous activities such as fighting tigers and wolves, climbing cliffs, and escaping avalanches. In the mundane world, these were things people dreamed of, but here few inquired about them.

Even more surprisingly, these small screens displayed images of professors lecturing. Mr. Huan asked Mr. John next to him, “Can we all go and listen to philosophers and scientists lecturing together?”

Mr. John said, “Of course you can, but nobody really wants to listen. Philosophers and scientists from hundreds of years ago are now replaced by computers. Our computer systems can replace trillions of philosophy departments and scientists. Now it seems that philosophers and scientists from hundreds of years ago are just language game players. You can also choose to be a philosopher or scientist, but you will most likely be the only one.”

Huan immediately expressed her intention to give up attending the lecture. Mr. John kindly pulled down a screen showing a professor lecturing and said, “It wouldn’t hurt for the two of us to listen and watch for a few minutes.”

Perhaps because Mr. John had guided Mr. Huanshi to experience this, what Mr. Huanshi saw was a video of a professor lecturing that instantly filled his entire field of vision. Before Mr. Huanshi could even listen to the professor’s lecture, the video had already transformed into the professor’s own mental experience. First, there was an ocean of various texts and books, followed by an accumulation of various strange landscapes and colors. First, there was an accumulation of various numbers and symbols, more like a scientist’s mind, and then hundreds and thousands of landscapes and colors accumulated into an ocean, that ocean of landscapes was also permeated with the meaning of words and the sound of speech.

Mr. Huan Shi wanted to choose one of them to enjoy and listen to. Mr. John was obviously aware of Mr. Huan Shi’s intention. He said, “Then you should join the hobbies of us ordinary people and go down to the big screen below to choose one to experience, rather than the grand spectacle of philosophers and scientists.”

The large screen below displays everyday life scenes, including the mountain and forest sightseeing tours Mr. Huan Shi just experienced. However, these tours offer a variety of different mountain and forest environments, and the fruits collected also vary. The area also includes restaurant and dormitory services, as well as childcare and elderly care. These services can be provided by robots, which are indistinguishable from real people. The final option is to stay longer, which includes three meals a day. During the day, guests can explore the surrounding area and chat with other visitors.

Finally, John and Mr. Huanshi’s group chose to travel to the sky and the sea. John explained to Huanshi that in this world where nature and humanity are one, people see blue skies, white clouds, and green oceans every day. Blue and green are the basic colors of our world, and the only colors that bring us peace. Although the ancients could not fly or swim like birds or fish, they often fantasized about doing so, swimming freely like birds and fish. Mr. John told Mr. Huanshi not to worry about wings or anything like that, citing Zhuangzi’s “On the Equality of Things”: reality and illusion are equal; what difference does it make whether one has wings or not?

After lunch, people met with their travel companions for the next day. Three or four members of our original group chose to leave and join other tour groups, while five new members joined our sky and water tour. The dormitory staff helped us to our accommodations, placing us in nearby rooms so we could meet up the next day.

Huan Shi and Mr. John requested to share a room so they could have more time to chat. Small families with children in this group were assigned larger rooms shared by multiple people, while couples who met on short notice and fell in love requested to live together and were assigned double rooms.

When Huan Shi and Mr. John entered their room, they found it unremarkable. Two beds lined two walls, with a small coffee table within easy reach of both beds in the middle, and a bathroom nearby. The only striking feature was the incredibly realistic depiction of trees and plants on the surrounding walls. Mr. Huan Shi couldn’t resist touching them; they were rough and uneven, a line between reality and art. Yet, Mr. Huan Shi felt as if he had been transported back three hundred years, to a time when he had spent his life sleeping in the mountains and forests in this way.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was the group of friends who lived nearby, inviting Mr. John to sit with them in the hallway. Mr. John came out of his room and saw seven or eight people already sitting around a flat table. They got up to welcome Mr. John, asking him to show them around and to answer any questions they had.

This small dormitory complex is equipped with various facilities, such as clothing stores and daily necessities shops, as well as snack stalls for everyone to try. People can freely choose clothes that fit them and dispose of their old clothes in a bin at the service station. There’s a medical facility nearby, quite different from what they’ve seen before, and they asked Mr. John to demonstrate how to use it. Mr. John smiled and asked everyone, “Who’s sick?”

Although Mr. Huanshi was not seriously ill, he had been feeling unwell lately. While waiting for others to hesitate and no one answered for a while, Mr. Huanshi stepped forward and said that he was sick.

Mr. John opened a door to the medical equipment, revealing a comfortable bed. He had Mr. Huan lie down on it and asked him if he minded being touched and having his body stroked by robotic arms. Mr. John explained that the facility was specially designed to make patients feel comfortable, like taking a relaxing shower in a fairyland.

Mr. Huanshi said he was willing to experience the real testing process and disliked the idea that even medical treatment had to be virtual. Mr. Huanshi lay inside, with arms reaching out to stroke his body from front to back, and voices asking him a few questions. When Mr. Huanshi answered the questions, the other person would often say “I know” as soon as he opened his mouth, obviously the other person could read his mind.

The final conclusion was that Mr. Huanshi had a sensitive stomach, but it wasn’t serious and he didn’t need rest. However, he needed to take medication for eight days, with options for oral or injectable medication. The injectable medication was placed in a specific area on his back and would be injected automatically on schedule, falling off on its own after eight days. The entire process was painless and without any unusual sensations. The oral medication was carried inside his clothing, and he would be given the pills and water at set times. Mr. Huanshi chose the oral medication, and after seven or eight days, his minor ailment had improved significantly—but that’s another story.

The next morning, breakfast was delivered to the room, a collective choice made by the tour group the previous day. The staff brought out four or five different dishes on a wooden tray, allowing each member of the tour group to choose one.

After breakfast, the group gathered together. Once everyone was present and no one was missing, they left the dormitory restaurant and headed out into the wilderness. First, they had to climb a small hill nearby. There were no stone steps, but fortunately, the slope wasn’t steep. They helped each other, often holding onto tree branches, and climbed about a hundred or two meters up to reach a small platform, though this platform was also covered in weeds. About fifty people stood there together, with the green mountains behind them and the blue sky and white clouds in front.

Led by the eldest, John, everyone softly sang together: We fly, we fly, we fly…

No one knows when it began, but people noticed that these fifty people were now flying in the sky. They formed a flock of flying figures, each carrying the heavens on their backs, looking down upon the earth. Each person discovered two translucent wings appearing beneath their shoulders and chest; they could flap their wings by shrugs and arm swings, but it was more likely that the high-altitude air currents were propelling them into flight. Mr. Huan Shi, of course, flew alongside Mr. John. Mr. Huan Shi whispered, “Do the people on the ground see us as a flock of birds, or a flock of flying people? I’ve never in my entire life looked up and seen a flock of flying people.”

Mr. John’s answer was so light, like a gentle breeze on his wing: “That’s entirely up to you. If you wish, when you travel through mountains and rivers and look up at the crows and swans in the sky, just see them as yourself.” Zhuangzi countered: “Why can’t crows and swans be viewed as equals to human men and women?”

Mr. Huanshi, along with fifty companions, flew effortlessly through the air, their backs to the blue sky and white clouds, overlooking the green mountains and clear waters. He began to appreciate and enjoy this rare moment. If Mr. Huanshi had been able to look down on the human world from an airplane in his previous life, he was now looking down on a pure natural landscape without any trace of human cities, a landscape before human civilization, where humans were still just one of many natural species, submerged in the green mountains and clear waters.

Mr. Huanshi was perhaps not used to this pure natural scenery. He tried to find traces of humankind among the green hills and clear waters, but found nothing. At the foot of the mountain, beside the green water, Mr. Huanshi discovered several huge child figures, which were, of course, wooden doll models.

Huan unconsciously moved closer to Mr. John. Mr. John said: “That doll model represents a human living space. Dolls are a synonym for robots. In the era when computer robots provided for human life and maintained the Earth’s environment, they appeared in the form of dolls just to please humans. Of course, it means that the struggles of human work hundreds of years ago were just human childhood.”

After Mr. Huanshi and his companions enjoyed the boundless green mountains and clear waters, they arrived at the ocean realm. This vast ocean was dotted with lush, verdant land. Mr. John told Mr. Huanshi that these were low, green hills floating on the ocean, where people could live, but they were all small, to distinguish them from the real continent. As they crossed the ocean to the edge of another continent, on some unknown command, the fifty flying men gradually descended, and upon approaching the surface, they all entered the sea. Mr. Huanshi had thought he would become a seagull swimming in the sea, but unexpectedly, the fifty flying men transformed into fifty fish, fifty fish about two meters long, their wings and legs becoming fins.

Because the changes in humans, birds, and fish were so natural and seamless, Huan Shi adapted to them and quickly began to appreciate the underwater world. The seaweed and the fish swimming within it—the vast underwater world was not much different from that on land. When they approached a huge whale, Mr. Huan Shi couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Mr. John said, “Our lives are insured; the price is that we don’t catch them. Of course, there are fishing tours, but this isn’t one of them.”

And so they landed on the beach. Shaking off the water, they were just as cheerful as they had been before they went out to sea, still dressed as before. It was already evening when they arrived at a place similar to where they had had dinner and lodging the previous day. Mr. John called Mr. Joy aside and said, “Let’s not have dinner yet. I want to take you for a walk in the underworld.”

After bidding farewell to their companions, they arrived near the area where people were sitting idly in the flowerbeds in front of the hall. There was an underground doorway in a grove of trees. Mr. John led Mr. Huanshi down into the underground, where they saw an elevator-like structure. After the two entered and descended for a long time with the doors closed, Mr. John said, “Let’s first go to the rooftop tower to look down at the human world below!”

Entering a balcony via elevator, the two looked down from the railing, a scene reminiscent of what Huan Shi had witnessed from an airplane in his previous life: towns and cities, vehicles and pedestrians, but the humans there all appeared as three- to five-year-old children. Mr. Huan Shi, without uttering a word, remarked, “That’s where robots are preparing our daily necessities and maintaining the natural environment.” Mr. John nodded in agreement, saying, “That was over two hundred years ago, in the early 21st century. Three- to five-year-old children were holding banners in the streets that read: ‘Grandpas and Grandmas, please save your children! Don’t let them die in the destruction of the Earth’s environment!'”

Mr. John continued, “The cries of those children moved God, which ultimately led to the reality of our Taoist life today.”

Mr. Huan Shi said, “Now there are only three- to five-year-old children there. Where are their grandparents?” Mr. John said, “Then you want a real world from the early 21st century. Come with me, turn around, face the wall for five seconds for nine years, then turn around again, and look!”

Huan Shi turned around, and the underground world was no longer the world of three- or five-year-old robots, but the real world he had lived in in his previous life—nothing more than the mundane human world of towns and cities. Looking at the bustling life of the city’s citizens, Mr. Huan Shi also noticed the distant green mountains and clear waters. On the bank of a river, an old man seemed to be fishing in a small boat, which immediately captivated him. He could almost hear the old fisherman’s singing voice resonating with the mountains and the universe. He immediately asked Mr. John to take him down to the human world for a visit.

Without further ado, the two took the elevator to the human world in the early 21st century. Mr. John said he happened to have world currency, which he could use for transportation and shopping. Mr. Huanshi urged them to hurry to the old fisherman, because the life of fishing by the river was the ideal of a Taoist sage.

The two hailed a taxi and arrived at the old fisherman’s place in about ten minutes. Perhaps Taoists have their own way of understanding things. When Mr. Huan explained why he had come all this way to visit him, the old fisherman smiled and said, “Please come and sit on my boat, my two old friends!”

After boarding the ship, Mr. Huanshi said, “Old Immortal, you seemed to be chanting just now. Please continue chanting so that we may also have the good fortune to hear your divine voice.”

The old fisherman then plucked the strings of his zither and slowly sang:

The world moves in cycles, a natural process of material circulation. The sun shines on the ocean, clouds fill the sky, snow and rain form rivers, all rushing forward. This nourishes all things, creating green mountains and clear waters. Photosynthesis absorbs carbon dioxide; bacteria fill the earth, animals roam the land, and respiration releases carbon dioxide. Over countless years, human civilization, spanning five thousand years, has faced its own challenges, cultural upheavals, the rise of computers, and the proliferation of robots. Finally, we must restore human freedom and return to nature.

At this moment, John and Mr. Huan joined the old fisherman, and the three of them sang together:

“The mighty Yangtze River flows eastward, its waves washing away heroes of the past. Five thousand years of civilization vanish in an instant. The green hills remain, witnessing countless sunsets.”

　　White-haired fishermen and woodcutters on the riverbank, accustomed to watching the autumn moon and spring breeze. A pot of murky wine brings joy in unexpected encounters. So many events, past and present, are all consigned to laughter and conversation.

At this moment, the three of them raised their glasses and clinked them together, then loudly repeated the following:

A pot of murky wine brings joy to our meeting. So many things, past and present, are all but fodder for laughter and conversation.

author By Dr. You-Sheng Li

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