I

[EARLY SUMMER 1637]

On 31 May 1637, while in Miaotou, Hunan, Servant Gu was sent by boat to Guilin in Yuexi, modern Guangxi, where he would take Xu Xiake’s baggage and belongings and wait there. Xu and Tranquil Hearing then visited several scenic mountains near Quan Subprefecture. After passing through Xing’an County, they rendezvoused with Servant Gu in Guilin on 20 June. As mentioned in the introduction, one of the main reasons that Xu Xiake traveled to Guangxi and Yunnan was to observe karst caverns. One of the most spectacular karst landforms in Guilin is Seven Stars Cavern, so-called because its aboveground spire has seven “peaks” that in outline resemble the seven stars that comprise the Big Dipper. Xu Xiake’s diary entry describing his visit to the cavern, translated here, is a good example of how skillfully he can delineate the details of an individual landform.

Second day [of the fifth month] [23 June 1637]: After breakfast, I packed some food provisions with Tranquil Hearing and Servant Gu. Then, carrying our bedding, we headed east through Pontoon Bridge Gate [Fuqiao Men]. Crossed a pontoon bridge, then next crossed Flowery Bridge [Huaqiao].¹ Proceeded east from the bridge and immediately turned north, following the height.² On the eastern edge of Flowery Bridge, a small rock formation juts out.³ As it moves off to the east, the slender stream that adorns the nearby village is especially pleasing to the eye. As for the towering height northeast of Flowery Bridge, its contours jut and jag and are surprisingly not as striking as the peaks on both sides of the trail to the southeast, but Seven Stars Cavern stands aloft right there. Altogether, it is only one li or so from the pontoon bridge. The cavern faces west, and the Eternal Buddha Monastery [Shoufo Si] is below it. One climbs the spire from the left side of the monastery. First, you come to a pavilion with extended eaves-like wings that welcome visitors. It is called Plucking Stars [Zhaixing] and was constructed by Cao Xuequan, who also wrote the inscription on its name plaque.⁴ An overhanging cliff spans high above it. There was barely enough room along the path for my feet, but my view was relatively unobstructed when I looked down at the city wall battlements and spires to the west. To the left of the pavilion is a Buddhist cave hermitage situated right at the entrance to the cavern, but when you go in it, you do not realize it is part of the cavern. I asked a monk from the monastery about the location of the entrance to the cavern. He pushed open the rear door leaf and led me inside. I then ascended steps for about three rods.

At this point, Xu enters the cavernous interior of Seven Stars Cavern:

The entrance to the cavern was hidden in the shadow cast by a Buddhist hermitage.⁵ Suddenly, the cavern’s passageway turned and headed northwest, where it opened broadly. Above, it is open like a dome; below, it is flat. Numerous aligned rocky bamboo shoots hang down like suspended columns, chilly and cool, dripping and leaking. This is the upper section, which forms Seven Stars Cliff. We descended some steps from the right and entered the lower section. This forms Nestled against Sunglow Clouds Cavern. It is grand and luminous, bold and spacious. Its entrance also faces northwest. Looking out into the distance, the view is expansive and majestic. There is a crack stretching across the ceiling of the cavern. The carp-shaped rock up there seems like it is about to leap down through the crack. Covered in scales from head to tail, even if someone had carved a rock to fashion such a carp, it could not be more lifelike. Next to it are intertwined carriage canopy pennants in the shape of coiling dragons, penta-colored and glistening. To the northwest, a tiered terrace rises high. I ascended the terrace along stone steps. This area forms Lord Lao’s Terrace. From the terrace, I headed north, where the cavern seemed to divide into two realms. The higher terrace proceeds west and then turns east, following the interior of a deep cavity. I proceeded along the terrace, passed an entranceway, and went straight north until I reached a dark area. Above is a boundless dome. Below is a sunken depression where a pool has formed. The boundless space here becomes precipitous and ruptured. Terrain that was flat before now suddenly turned treacherous.

Now about to enter the dark recesses of the cavern, Xu puts the guide he hired earlier to work.

I had hired a guide, who lit a pine torch at the bottom of the cavern to lead me in. I could not catch up since he did not accompany me along the terrace. I also did not know if this was a place to light torches.⁶ I then descended from the terrace and reached the bottom of the cavern. The guide, carrying a torch, pressed on. Following the terrace eastward, we proceeded through a cavity and only then caught sight of the terrace wall, where the patterns of the cracks resemble an ornately designed tapestry. To be provided with such miraculous transformations makes one note even more that they have come down from what is above.⁷

We continued north and entered First Heaven’s Gate, whose stone pillars droop straight down so only one person could pass at a time. After we entered, the cavern became even more vaulted, lofty, and deep. To the left of the gate is a stone balustrade spanning across. Below, it sinks into deep darkness, so indistinct you cannot see to the bottom. This forms Otter Pool [Tazi Tan]. The guide said that the abyss below it leads to the sea, but this is not necessarily so. This is probably the place where Lao Lord Terrace plummets to the north. But when it reaches here, its great height and depth change orientation into intricate passages and intersections, forming an entirely separate scene. Inside it are entrances to two consecutive celestial gates (tianmen).⁸ The path then gradually turns to the northeast, along which are the rock formations Bamboo Stuck in a Flower Vase [Huaping Chazhu], Withdraw the Net [Chewang], Chessboard [Yiqi], Eight Transcendents [Baxian], and Steamed Bun [Mantou]. On both sides of the path are images of Sudhana, among which is an image of Avalokiteśvara.⁹ The guide proceeded with great haste, but I insisted that we pause to make close examinations, being selective in what I looked at. But what I desired to observe was not here.

Next, we passed a cliff and ascended. To its right is a pool—a black abyss just like the Otter Pool, but in grandness and expanse, it even surpasses it. This is called Dragon River [Longjiang]. It probably connects through to Otter Pool. Next, proceeded north and then turned east, passing Red Felt [Hongzhan] and White Felt [Baizhan]—hanging “blankets” that looked like abandoned “fur coats.” Their “wrinkles” seemed like they had been woven. Next, along the path to the east, we passed Phoenixes Frolicking in Water [Fenghuang Xishui], and only then did we pass through a cavern entranceway. A chilly wind swished and soughed, which blew out the torch while the cold stabbed at us. Presumably, the wind came in from outside the cavern, and when it reached here, its collective force became even greater. Windy Cavern on Folded Brocade Spire [Diecai Shan] is also like this, but in the past, Folded Brocade never had a Windy Cavern.¹⁰ Yet people today designate it so. There was a Windy Cavern here in the past, but no one knows about it today. Exiting the cavern, we suddenly saw a halo of light shining inside a deep cavity. It was hazy, just like when the light of dawn is about to break. To the east, we then exited from the back of the cavern. There was a stream there from the northern section of the cavern that flowed in a circle. We entered the cavern from the south. I guess that the stream I describe below is Dragon River.¹¹ A small rock bridge spans above it, which is said to have been built by the Song dynasty minister, the Honorable Zeng Bu (1036–1107).¹² After crossing the bridge with my hand, I brushed away moisture on the right side of the cavern entrance, where I found Honorable Zeng’s account.¹³ I only then realized that the cavern was formerly named Cold Water Cave [Lengshui Yan]. The Honorable Zeng commanded Gui. While searching for wonders in the cavern, he constructed the bridge. Only then was the name changed to Master Zeng’s Cavern [Zenggong Yan]. Presumably, Dragon River and Nesting in Sunglow connect as one subterranean cavern, and it is simply that their two respective entrances have unique features.

In his travels, Xu often gathered information from local informants. In the next section, he quotes a response to a question he asked about the source of a subterranean stream.

I stood for a long while on the bridge. When I looked down into the ravine, I saw someone washing clothes and drawing water. I asked, “This stream approaches from the northeast. Can one enter the cavern by tracing it upstream or not?” The person said, “One can go deep into this watery cavern for several li. Along the way, there are notable sights. If you compare it to the caverns outside, the route is twice as long but doubles the number of surpassing scenic sights. As for those caverns with water, there is no way to tell the depth. One can only wade through them during the winter months, not now.” I immediately hired him to serve as my guide. He then returned home to fetch some pine torches. I followed him out of the cavern and then to the right, where we came to Felicitous Forest Abbey [Qinglin Guan]. I stowed my bags there and asked the monks to provide us with a meal of yellow millet. As before, the guide and I went into the cavern from the east entrance to a defile. Only after passing Phoenixes Frolicking in Water and reaching the Two Felts, Red and White, did we proceed north on a forking path.

This next section documents some creative and evocative names bestowed on karst formations, such as “lions sporting with balls” and “elephants with curled trunks.”

Along the way are “lions frolicking with balls,” “elephants with curled trunks,” and “camels with long necks and protruding humps.” There are sacrificial offerings on earthen burial mounds, which include “swine bristles” and “goose feet” set out in front; there is a feast for Arhats, which includes “golden goblets” and a “silver stand” arranged and set out below. At a spot high above it, there is a mountain spirit, about one foot in length, sitting on an overhanging cliff, seemingly about to take flight. In the deepest part of the cavern is an image of Buddha, but only seven inches in height, sitting upright halfway up the wall on the flank of a bodhisattva. Next to the bodhisattva is a niche with a meditation mat where monks sit cross-legged and meditate. In front of Avalokiteśvara’s throne, Dharma Storehouse’s (Fazang, 643–712) prayer wheel seems as if it is about to start spinning.¹⁴ In the deep part of the cavern, we again found abyssal darkness by a bridge over the upper reaches of a stream. When we reached this place, the guide would not dare go in, saying, “Carrying a lantern and leading with a torch, we could never reach the end, even in several days. However, no one has ever gone in here, let alone just after the water in the stream has risen. How could we possibly risk such unpredictable danger?” We backtracked, following along the Red and White Felts and Phoenixes Frolicking in, then exited the cavern.

Following his usual practice, Xu Xiake closes with a summary of the distance he traveled and a brief assessment of what was observed.

I figure that first, from Nestled against Sunglow Clouds to Master Zeng’s Cavern, altogether I covered about two li; later, from where I entered and then exited Master Zeng’s Cavern, I made a circuit of about three li. However, as for the surpassing scenery in the two caverns, it turned out that we saw just about everything there was to see.

—Translated by James M. Hargett

On the twenty-first day of the fifth month (12 July), accompanied by Tranquil Hearing and Gu Xing, Xu Xiake traveled south by boat to the town of Yangshuo. There, he enjoyed spectacular views of karst scenery on both banks of the Li River. He spent the next few days exploring the sights in and around Yangshuo, returning to Guilin on the twenty-eighth (19 July).

Twenty-third day [of the fifth month] [14 July 1637]:¹⁵ After an early breakfast, I followed the river northeast on foot from White Sand [Baisha].¹⁶ After one li, I crossed the river and went south, emerging to the east of Pageboy Mountain [Shutong Shan]. Looking east from the ford toward the northeast bank of the river, I saw four tall peaks standing in a line and angling toward the south. The northernmost peak is divided into two, forming a human-like shape that tilted toward the northwest—one of several mountains to the east that have this appearance. Continuing south, I arrived at the eastern foothills. Amid a grove of trees overlooking an artificial pond stands the Pure Heart Pavilion [Chengxin Ting], where one can rest.

Next proceeded east for one li, I passed Mu Mountain Village [Mushan Cun], then crossed the river and continued east, following the southern slope of the four pinnacled peaks and soon emerging east of the peaks. The mountains then opened up, revealing an even more extraordinary scene. As I gazed northeast, another peak rose, on top dividing into two forks, the eastern fork low and at an angle—like a monk’s cap hanging in the air, the western fork tall and thrusting—two extraordinary sights on a single mountain. Of the four pinnacled peaks, the eastern branch is the most elegant, and the western summit is the most imposing of the two branches. In this way, the two mountains complement each other. But when looking back southwestward across the river, below, one sees sharp rock faces falling sheer, and above, one sees twin peaks standing together—a startling image of the massed peaks to the south of Pageboy Mountain.

Now I was following the mountains east, and after five li, I had left behind the two forks. Descending a ridge to the southeast, I reached Power of Buddha Market [Foli Si]. Ten li from Yangshuo, this village faces the river’s southward turn. After setting my luggage down in an inn, I asked about First Graduate Peak [Zhuangyuan Feng], still expecting to head east toward it, but the locals pointed to the west, and only now did I realize that it was the two-pronged peak I had passed earlier. The western summit, being the highest, is called First Graduate.

Then I crossed the ridge behind, heading north, and after one li arrived at Red Flag Cave [Hongqi Dong]. After inspecting it and walking one li to the northwest, I arrived at the foot of a mountain to find the path buried beneath grasses and impossible to make out. Climbing and clambering, I gradually made my way up and found a stone path, only to lose it soon again, for sometimes it was obscured and sometimes visible, depending on the denseness of the vegetation. After ascending one li to the northwest, I crossed the depression to the west, then proceeded two li to the northeast, crossing a depression on the east side—the spot where the mountain separates into two branches. To the northwest, I made my way over a jumble of rocks and a tangle of creepers until I reached the peak.

On the side of the rock face, a cave faced east. Although the entrance was tall, it was not very wide; inside, there was an array of images of gods and goddesses. Local people had carved inscriptions on the stone alongside, claiming that praying for rain here is very effective, and naming the mountain Rich Teaching Mountain [Fujiao Shan]. Above the cave are two tiers of openings; I went out under the overhang, but there was no way to climb up. In front of the cave, I could see a peak facing east—the one like a monk’s cap—and it had a cave, but I could not access it, given the sheer rock face and the thatch grass in between.

I sat inside the cave for a long time, gazing off into the distance toward Gongcheng to the east, Pingle to the southeast, and Lipu to the southwest—mountains after mountains in all directions. I wanted to climb to the high peak’s summit, but the north and south faces were sheer and had no steps. On the south side, I tried to climb up the cliff, scaling the steep rock, now clinging like an ape, now leaping like a panther, and I succeeded in reaching halfway up the cliff, only to find that there was not a single crack in the rock face and my hands and feet were powerless to take me farther. At this time, heavy rain showers were moving in from the south and west. Seeing that the rock face above me offered no grips and there was thick vegetation below, I realized that it would be even harder to get a foothold when branches were slippery with rain, and I quickly made my descent. After three li, I reached the foot of the mountain, and after another two li, I crossed the ridge. I stopped for a meal in the Power of Buddha Market.

Members of the local Su family had succeeded in studying while also farming—three or four of them had been selected as tribute students, and seeing me appear on the scene, they gathered around: “This mountain is so steep,” they said, “that there has never been a path up to the summit. A few years ago, an ancient tree was growing on the side of the mountain. After praying for a safe climb, three of our servants attempted an ascent using ladders and ropes, but they could only manage to get as far as the tree and never reached the top. After that, nobody else ever tried.” In the afternoon, I returned from Power of Buddha Market in the rain, covering ten li in total, once more crossing the river twice before I arrived at White Sand Bend [Baisha Wan]. I then rested on the boat.…

Twenty-fourth day [15 July]: After breakfast in White Sand, I crossed the river to the foot of the southern mountains. Once ashore, I asked the way to Tian Family Cavern [Tianjia Dong]. Following the hills southeast, as I passed a peak, I found a cavern entrance extending high, a door and wall at its foot. I entered right away. The cavern faced east, lofty and bright, level and open, with many stalactites. In the left rear was an opening to the outside; the passage was dark but airy. The statues of gods inside the cavern were very striking; a stone stele below recorded the reopening of the cavern by Magistrate Wang Zhichen (jinshi 1595). Only after reading the inscription did I realize that this cavern, which the locals call Tian Family Cavern, was known in the olden days as White Crane Mountain [Baihe Shan]. I had been searching for White Crane for three days without success, and now, visiting one cavern, I had succeeded in locating two caverns—what a happy outcome! …

After leaving White Crane, I followed the hills north and the river westward, and after three li, entered through Yangshuo’s southeast gate, exited through the main south gate, and left my bags at an inn. Then, carrying fire and shouldering torches, I took the main road northwest to Dragon Cave [Longdong Yan]. After first going one li, I saw a mountain off to the right, deeply cavernous, with multiple windows, and I took that to be Dragon Cave. But the people on the road pointed farther ahead, saying: “It’s on the northern mountain.” So I went through a stone passageway, and after one li, crossed a small bridge and headed east, finding two cavern openings facing west, one to the south and one to the north. The southern of the two is Dragon Leap Cave [Longyue Yan]. The land slopes slightly downward, and the opening is awkward and exposed; the northern cavern is slightly higher, with vegetation blocking the path to the entrance.

I first entered the southern cave. Inside, I mounted a ledge, to the right of which was a hole that extended deeply to the front of the cave. To the left was a stone platform, stone seat, and stone grotto, where one can rest and reflect. To the right was an inscription, “Account of Opening the Cave” (Kaidong ji), by a local provincial graduate named Mo Xiaolian, which said, “To the north is the palace where lurking dragons hibernate. Here is where the magic dragons gambol, so it is called Dragon Leap Cave.”

After leaving, I ascended north to Dragon Cave. We entered with torches alight. The cave was five rods wide and one rod tall; the ledge along the half wall on the south face was as level as a corridor. After proceeding for several rods, we found the cave opened to the south, and the ceiling grew taller. On the rear wall, we saw the Dragon Shadow [Longying] and Dragon Bed [Longchuang], both of a striking white stone, overhanging above and cracked below, seemingly chiseled half away with a stone mallet, leaving just a faint impression. Below was one square pool and one round pool, five or six inches deep, with spring water as clear as a mirror. The water drips constantly but does not spill; no matter how often you draw water from the pools, it always refills. Given that this hidden palace has such a wondrous spring, it is fitting that this cavern is billed as the foremost spectacle in Yangshuo. In front of the ponds is a cinnabar stove, enclosed on all sides, while below a hole has been carved out of the rock, almost like a door made with human hands. Above the pools are rows of little cavities, like wasp dens or swallow nests, but none offer a way through.

I entered, crouching low from a hollow below the left wall. The passage gradually grew so tight it felt like being inside a large pipe. I crawled southward for five or six rods before finding space to stretch. Soon after, there was a side cavity where one could turn around. Then, like at Nanming and Xiaoyou, in each direction a grotto heaven opened, and I thus arrived at the rear of Dragon Leap.¹⁷

After exiting the cave and proceeding one-half li, I entered through a gate and gazed east toward the array of peaks to the south, where Dragon Cave was located. I could see multiple openings in the mountains and was brimming with anticipation at the prospect of mounting the dragon. So I crossed a stream and headed east, proceeded through an overgrown marshy area, and after another one-half li, I arrived at the foot of the mountain. First, I went into the first west-facing entrance. It was as lofty as a gorge, but inside, it had been trodden and soiled by cattle and horses and was not fit to walk on. I proceeded several dozen feet to the east: a passage that turned to the north grew so dark that I could not go to the end, while a passage that turned south was illuminated by windows facing west. Following the light, I arrived back at the gorge and exited to the west above my original entry point: after entering the cavern, I climbed south to the second west-facing entrance.

Now, from the outside, I climbed to the third west-facing entrance. The cave opened to the east, forming a gulch like the first cave, but its lower portion was as narrow as an alleyway, with the rock above rising in tiers like a storied building. Within five rods, the gulch ended, and on the rock face above, I saw the opening to a passageway, round and regular as though crafted by paring and polishing. But the walls were sheer, and there was no way to climb up. With Tranquil Hearing’s assistance, I tried by every means to make an ascent and finally reached the next level up, but the level above was so perpendicular that the passageway was out of reach.

So we went back through the entryway and looked up at the two entries above, the fourth and fifth west-facing entrances. I was hoping that inside it would be possible to descend and reach that opening above the gulch. Tranquil Hearing proposed to climb up on the outside by clinging to branches and putting his feet into crevices, while I preferred to look for another hole or ledge that would provide access to the interior. I arrived below the sixth west-facing entrance, but it was considerably higher up, and the rock face was even more sheer; the more I gazed up at it, the more inaccessible it seemed.

So then I went over to below the seventh west-facing entrance. There, I noted that there were veins in the rock; where the rock jutted out, I would be able to find a foothold, and where there were crevices, my fingers would be able to grip. So I spread myself over the rock and made my ascent, reaching the cavern entrance after an arduous climb.

At the north end of the cave, a narrow hollow rose vertically, some five or six rods high. First, I attempted to reach the upper level, but the crevice was shiny and had no footholds, so it was impossible to go up. I told Servant Gu to go down the mountain to look for wood so that we could ascend by jamming branches into the gap. But we did not have a knife, and though there were some upright branches, it would be hard to break them off. Nonetheless, I had him go off to search as best he could. At this point, Tranquil Hearing was still clambering outside the fifth entrance; I reckoned it would be difficult for him to ascend that way, so I told him to hurry up and join forces with me here.

As Servant Gu descended, I sized up the crevice once more. Although there were no crannies or steps, the walls bent round, and one could prop oneself up with hands and feet without fear of falling. So I eased myself inside, and then, as though working my way up inside a well, I stretched and wriggled upward without relying on rungs or steps. Once I had climbed to the top, I found that to the north, the rock fell away, creating a passageway, and light was shining through, making me realize there must be access to the cavern I saw earlier. But I had not yet established which entry it would lead to, so I just sat there straddling the rock. I looked up at the cave ceiling—it extended in all directions like a vault. I peered down at the bottom of the passageway—it divided into two, like an ornate chamber. So at the top of my voice, I shouted to Tranquil Hearing, urging him to hurry up.

Eventually, he arrived, but later than Servant Gu. The branches that Gu had collected were too spindly to be of any use, and by this time, I had no need for them anyway, having already climbed the ridge. I instructed Tranquil Hearing to climb up like I did—it was like teaching a gibbon. Once he had joined me at the top, I went southward from the west side, and he went northward from the east side, each of us searching for new features of interest, but neither of us could get very far. So from the north end, I descended into the passage and proceeded northward, and to the west, there was an entrance high up—the sixth double door.

We did not make the ascent immediately; instead, we followed the passage and entered farther, turning and exiting to the west: this was the fifth entrance. Next to it was a rock shaped like a dragon, hanging down three or four rods, its head divided into two branches; when knocked, it gave a boom. Next to it was a level shelf that below overlooked the serried cliffs and above offered a view of stalactites: one could lie down and take one’s ease next to the dangling dragon.

Going north from the dragon to the end of the cliff, I found another entry—the fourth entry. I entered and headed east, and after I descended one level, the passage opened in all directions. When I went right, the passage turned east; it was extremely dark, and I could not reach the end. When I went left, it exited to the west—to the upper level by the earlier third entrance. I realized the entryway that appeared to have been gouged out must lie within. So following the cliff, I went to the end to find a column standing in the way. I slipped through a crack next to the column and found another dark chamber inside, neither extending far nor offering an outlet.

Ascending from the third entry, we passed four more entries in turn, and in all cases, at first, there seemed to be no way up. Still, once we entered the seventh door, it was like a string of pearls all linked together, continuously connected, turning corners to reach farther, ascending and descending through different levels of the structure, shallow or deep as they chose, layer upon layer overlooking the void—it was really like being inside the Stamen and Pearl Palace [Ruizhu Gong] on the summit of Massed Jade Mountain! Mo Gongchen had inscribed the words “Pearl Bright Cavern” (Zhuming Dong) in several places above the fourth and fifth caverns—clearly his effort to pay tribute to this cavern.

By this time, it was afternoon, so I had Servant Gu hurry off to the inn by the south gate and prepare a meal for us. Tranquil Hearing and I relaxed for a time, up high next to the dangling dragon, as blissful as gods, utterly forgetting ourselves—a supremely fortunate moment in life.…

On 31 July, Xu Xiake left Guilin. He instructed Servant Gu to escort the luggage to the river port of Su Bridge [Suqiao], some 20 mi/32 km southwest of Guilin. At the same time, he took the opportunity to explore caverns in the area in between. Tranquil Hearing, now too ill to participate in such strenuous activities, rested while Xu Xiake was busy caving. We join Xu Xiake at the end of his busy morning exploring the Zither Pool [Qintan] and Lychee [Lizhi] Caverns.

Tenth day [of the sixth month] [31 July 1637]:¹⁸ … Emerging from the cavern, I walked one li to the north of Zither Pool and arrived at the village; by this time, it was afternoon. I led Tranquil Hearing northwest by a shortcut for two li, and we reached Level Dike Market [Pingtang Jie]. The rocky mountain to the west is very sheer, its two peaks standing close together like a gate, and near the summit of the southern peak, I suddenly spotted a window that went all the way through to the other side, as bright as an extended mirror. Earlier, when visiting Middle Concealed Mountain [Zhongyin Shan], I had searched unsuccessfully for Copper Coin Cave [Tongqian Yan]. That night, when I hastened toward the west gate, I felt excited when I passed it.¹⁹ Now, I was passing beneath it once more, and I could not contain my joy. But when I asked people how to reach it, everyone said there was no path.

At this point, Tranquil Hearing was so ill that he could not proceed farther. There was a beverage vendor by the side of the road—the man I had asked about the sights at Through Cave [Chuanyan] when I was on my way back from Middle Concealed Mountain—and he said, “There’s a fork up ahead, just after the oil mill. If you push your way through, you can turn southeastward to an old temple, and from there, you can climb the mountain.”

So I hung our bags on the purlin of his hut and told Tranquil Hearing to lie in the shade under the thatched roof while I carried on ahead, walking stick in hand. I inquired again as I passed the oil mill and again was told, “There’s no way to reach the cavern, and there’s no path that leads in that direction.”

But when I gazed up behind, I saw a narrow, serpentine path winding its way among the vegetation. So I poked through gaps and brushed my way through the shrubbery, following the foothills to the east, and then I turned south. Just before I reached the old temple, I saw a path leading upward to the west, and I took it.

At first, I clambered up steps and then scaled the cliff. The stone had sharp edges in the steep parts of the rock face, and my toes and fingers could get a firm grip. Where the rock face was high, boughs were hanging down, my feet could catch on vines, and my hands could grip branches. But when the rock face ended, and I crossed the canyon, thorns and creepers were dense, stretching above me and grabbing me below, hooking into me everywhere. It was like treading water or falling into trenches, and I found it impossible to extricate myself. So I stuck my umbrella and my walking stick into hollows among the rocks and put all my strength into my fingers and toes, and thus, eventually, I reached the base of the piled-up rocks. Above were circling lions and dancing elephants, soaring phoenixes and prancing dragons, a whole variety of strange shapes laid out in great profusion, and I reckoned that the bright window must be close by. So I crossed to the north, and the more I turned, the nearer I got to the top of the peak. When I looked down, I found the cavern was now below me.

Down the mountain, people yelled that I had gone the wrong way; they pointed at steps below me. Grateful for their kindness, I descended along the path they had indicated, but in so doing, I bypassed the spot where I had left my umbrella and walking stick. Two herdsmen had called out to me out of concern that I could not find my way down. I went over and thanked them. They told me the way to climb the mountain was farther to the south of the old temple—it seemed that the cavern needed to be accessed from the rear, not from the east.

I told them I had left my umbrella among the rocks and returned to look for it. Before long, I heard the calls of children down below in Level Dike Market, and soon, dozens of people were shouting at the foot of the mountain. They sounded very agitated, and at first I did not realize it was on my account—this became apparent only after I had fetched the umbrella and come back down. When I reached the old temple, I found that the people were all armed with spears and arrows; they thought I had been scouting around in the undergrowth with bad intentions. I explained that I was exploring the caverns. When they did not believe me, I loosened my clothes to show them I had no weapon and added, “I left a bag in the hut of the soybean milk vendor at the crossroads—you can go and check.” At this, they gradually dispersed.

Now, from south of the old temple, I ascended, climbing a stone stairway and brushing aside bushes. I turned to the southwest, emerging in a hollow behind the mountain. Looking south, I saw a peak rising, a rock perched vertically on its summit, dozens of feet high, extremely striking. I judged that I had now arrived behind the cavern, but when I gazed from this distance at the rock wall, I still failed to see an entrance to the cavern.

Suddenly, from below, I heard a boy’s voice shouting again that I had taken the wrong path and that there would not be time to make the climb. By this point, the sun had fallen behind the western hills, and thorns and vines blocked the way, so I reckoned I could not make it. Also, Tranquil Hearing was waiting at the thatched shop, the owner would soon be leaving, and I feared there would be no place to spend the night, so I followed the boy down the hill. But he raced off ahead, and I was unsure whether he had hailed me out of pity or suspicion.

So I followed the northern foothills around, emerging near the oil mill to find the beverage vendor packing his things and heading home. I collected the bag hanging from the purlin, and we followed the vendor to Flat Dike Market to look for a place to sleep. The vendor said his house was too small to accommodate us, so he sought out a neighbor who could take us in, and he prepared a meal, also searching for a kinsman who could act as my guide the next day.

The evening was humid, and thunder rumbled. Tranquil Hearing was seriously unwell, and Servant Gu was no longer with us. After dinner, I went out and sat in the street under the bright moon as a gentle breeze began to blow. There, among the mountains, I listened to the village women as they engaged in badinage and sang their aboriginal songs—another notable experience among these jade peaks.

—Translated by Allan H. Barr

After traveling by boat down the Luoqing River [Luoqing Jiang] for a day and a half, Xu Xiake arrived at the south gate of Luorong County Seat on the afternoon of 3 August 1637.²⁰ “Although the town has a wall,” he noted, “the markets and shops are down-at-heel, with a few dozen thatched houses; there is only one old woman living by the town gate.” Given the river’s many serpentine bends, it would take another three days by boat to reach Liuzhou Prefecture, his next destination, so Xu opted for a more direct overland route instead. But Tranquil Hearing was now hardly able to walk.

____________________

Source: “Yuexiyou riji yi” (YJJZ, 1:379–81; YJ, 1:293–95). This translation (here revised) originally appeared in Hargett, Jade Mountains and Cinnabar Pools, 165–70.

1. 1  The “floating” or pontoon bridge mentioned here spanned the Li River [Lijiang] in the eastern part of Guilin.

2. 2  “Height” here (shan 山) refers to the “cliff” or aboveground portion of Seven Stars Cavern.

3. 3  The small rock mentioned in this line is still a popular tourist attraction in Guilin known as Hibiscus Rock [Furong Shi].

4. 4  On Cao Xuequan, see part 1, note 25, pages 250–51, above.

5. 5  The retreat was built directly in front of the entrance to the cavern.

6. 6  Limestone contains large pores that can serve as storage areas for gas or oil, so the concern here is that lit torches might trigger an explosion.

7. 7  In other words, visitors to the cavern are reminded that they are now in a subterranean world of “miraculous transformations” quite different from the one they came from “above.”

8. 8  These “celestial gates” are vertical rock landforms resembling doors or gates.

9. 9  Sudhana (Shancai tongzi) is a famous young Buddhist pilgrim who sought enlightenment by traveling extensively to study with various master teachers and bodhisattvas. Avalokiteśvara is universally known throughout East Asia as the bodhisattva associated with compassion.

10. 10  Folded Brocade Spire is in the northeastern precinct of Guilin.

11. 11  Xu Xiake is alerting readers that he suspects the following description pertains to the Dragon River.

12. 12  Zeng Bu was a Northern Song official who, in 1178, was appointed to serve as the administrative and military commissioner of the region now known as Guangxi. During one of his sightseeing tours in Guilin, he explored Seven Stars Cavern and built the stone bridge mentioned here by Xu Xiake.

13. 13  The account (ji) mentioned here refers to the commemorative essay written by Zeng Bu to celebrate the bridge’s construction.

14. 14  Dharma Storehouse was an important and influential patriarch of the Huayan School of Buddhism. Prayer wheels were used to help one accumulate wisdom and gain good karma.

15. 15  YJJZ, 1:425–29; YJ, 1:330–35.

16. 16  At White Sand, southeast of Yangshuo, the Li River makes an abrupt turn toward the northeast.

17. 17  Nanming and Xiaoyou are the names of celebrated mountains in Zhejiang and Hunan, respectively.

18. 18  YJJZ, 1:448–50; YJ, 1:354–55.

19. 19  Xu is referring to his sightseeing activities on the twelfth day of the fifth month: see YJJZ, 1:406–8; YJ, 1:316–17.

20. 20  Luorong is now a Zhen within the boundaries of Liuzhou Shi.

II

[LATE SUMMER/FALL 1637]

Fourteenth day [of the sixth month] [4 August]: I rose and ate at dawn, then engaged porters to carry the pouches and panniers and rented a horse to carry Tranquil Hearing. We went out the south gate and headed west, skirting the town wall. Tranquil Hearing had hardly mounted the horse before he rolled out of the saddle and tumbled to the ground. Servant Gu went ahead with Tranquil Hearing and the porters while I went back to return the horse. Twice, we changed mounts, and both times Tranquil Hearing could not keep his balance. I had the idea of hiring a cart to carry him, but the porters all argued that a cart would be even bumpier than a horse and said that when going up and down hills, he would have to get out of the cart and be helped along, making the trip all the more difficult. So in the end, at a high price, I hired three men to carry him in a sedan chair, and we did not set off until after I had let the porters eat their fill. By then, the morning was well advanced.

I went ahead by myself, intending to wait for them at the inn ahead and reckoning that, given the pace of the sedan chair, I could not possibly arrive after it. After one li, I passed the west gate, crossed a bridge, and continued west. Soon, I ascended a hill, and all around, I could see a profusion of mountains and ridges and an expanse of grassy terrain; only to the south was a sharp peak that exposed its rocky structure. I trekked for eighteen li through the wilds, and when I crossed a high ridge, I looked back but saw no sign of Tranquil Hearing’s sedan chair. After descending the hill and going southwest for two li, I reached High Ridge Inn [Gaoling Pu], near a scattering of thatched houses that announced Meng Village [Mengcun]. Tranquil Hearing had still not appeared, so I rested in the inn there as I waited. When finally he did arrive, he was all the more exhausted.

I walked west one more li, turned south, crossed a ridge, wended my way south, and after four li, reached the west side of South Stronghold Mountain [Nanzhai Shan]; the Liu River [Liujiang] presses up against its western cliff. I descended west, and a boatman took me across to the other side on a raft.

Xu Xiake continued west, going between Li Feng Mountain [Li Feng Shan] to the north and Luo Mountain [Luoshan] to the south. He found a rocky outcrop known as Lone Elegance Peak rising ahead.

Here, people traveling the road would stop under a tree to rest, and I waited there for Tranquil Hearing’s sedan chair, but he did not appear. When I asked the people who arrived after me, they said they had seen no sedan chair on the road, and I was very perplexed. But when I looked back and saw a cavern on the western slope of Luo Mountain, I was intrigued. One of the other travelers said, “If you turn east when you get to the southern slope, you can get to Luo Cavern [Luo Dong Yan]. The memorial arch just east of the cavern can serve as a landmark.”

Hearing this, my curiosity was piqued all the more. I looked up at the sun, and it was not yet aslant, so I pushed my way through the long grass on the southeast corner and after one li reached the southwest corner of Luo Mountain. The peak was crowned with a jumble of rocks; on the side of the mountain was a narrow opening shaped like a scepter and a horizontal cavern shaped like a beam. From here, I turned south and followed the foot of the mountain around to the east. When I looked north, halfway up the mountain, there was a south-facing cavern, slightly lower than the northern peak but precisely aligned with it. To the southeast, I saw a small mountain at the south end of the riverside hills; a crack in its rocky side went all the way up to the top of the mountain, forming a natural doorway.

Then there was a sudden downpour, just as I stood in grass so deep it came up to my shoulders. I was not so concerned about getting a drenching from above as I was worried about getting soaked from the side. I turned to the right, and after about one li, I crossed level ground and headed north. Here, a mesa opened up like a natural cover. A monolith jutted upward at an angle north of the right peak, several scores of rods high, much like a human figure with hands clasped and clad in ancient garb.

On the north face of the left cliff, two cavern entrances extended downward in the gorge. The north-facing inner cavern fell away deeply and formed a chasm at the bottom of which a clear stream flowed. The steep sides rose several scores of rods high. The southern entrance extended very deep, and I could not tell where it led. To the north, I reached the cavern entrance; the rock wall fell away, and above was a horizontal boulder two feet high, framing the cavern entrance like a gate. One could sit there and peer toward the bottom. It was impossible to bridge the gap and climb down, but there was no need to fear losing one’s footing and falling in. On the left wall of the gate, several scores of ropes had been coiled and tethered to the wall. I suspect some adventurous soul had used it to lower himself down the rock face and explore the bottom of the cavern. Unfortunately, I was traveling solo, without a partner, and I could not use my body as a winch to plumb the hidden depths.

Xu Xiake explored the other caverns in the area before resuming his journey toward Liuzhou.

After one li, I reached the base of Lone Elegance Peak. Then I walked quickly westward for five or six li, asking people whether they had seen a monk in a sedan chair, and they said they had not—they had only seen a monk lying down in an oxcart. Only now did I realize that the sedan chair carriers must have deliberately walked very slowly and then, realizing how gullible Tranquil Hearing is, bamboozled him into exchanging the sedan chair for an oxcart.

Gazing north at this spot, I saw two sharp peaks standing erect, while to the south, there was a ring of mountains, with rocks projecting from their summits, a gorgeous sight, although I do not know its name. After another five or six li to the west, I came upon the Liu River, now flowing from south to north. I had arrived at the city’s eastern edge. On a hill on the east bank, a pavilion perched high among the greenery—the Wang family library of Wang Qiyuan, a jinshi of the renwu year (1622).²¹

By now, I was anxious to track Tranquil Hearing down, so I crossed the river, and once I had climbed the bank, I found myself below a line of houses. Following the alley for two li, I entered Liuzhou. Once within the east gate, it turned out to be rather quiet. I moved west past the government offices and reached the inn where Servant Gu was lodging, but there was no sign of Tranquil Hearing. So I went out the south gate and asked everyone I met on the road; some said they had seen him, and others said they had not. I went through the east gate and around the walls to the north, walking from Two Tang Worthies Shrine [Tang Erxian Ci] to the Opened Prime Monastery [Kaiyuan Si]. I learned he had stopped at the monastery but did not know where he went after that. The monks said that the only places where outsiders were accommodated were the Thousand Buddhas Inn [Qianfo Lou] and the Three Officials Hall [Sanguan Tang], and I needed to check those places. So I left the monastery, going east and then bearing north, and after one li or so, I came to the Thousand Buddhas Inn; it was now dusk. I asked a monk, but Tranquil Hearing was not there. So I walked briskly west to Three Officials Hall, where I was told that a monk had arrived. I thought it must be Tranquil Hearing, but when I got to the monks’ living quarters, I found he was not there. I rushed out, returning to the Opened Prime Monastery and questioning other pedestrians. Somebody drawing water from a well said he had run into Tranquil Hearing by the riverside. “What retreats are there by the river?” I asked. “There is the Heavenly Consort Temple [Tianfei Miao],” was the answer.

I proceeded northeastward in the dimming light, and after one li I came to the temple. There, at last, I found Tranquil Hearing. The carriers had swapped the sedan chair for an oxcart, but the cart could not cross the river, so just one of them had carried the luggage across. He demanded a large fee from Tranquil Hearing, and fearing that he might run into me, he had made a point of taking a circuitous route around the walls and bringing Tranquil Hearing to this secluded temple and then cajoled him into pawning his bag and blanket so that he could be paid in cash. Tranquil Hearing is unwell, to be sure, but how could he be duped so easily? The temple monks then gave me dinner, and Tranquil Hearing and I hunkered down in a rough-and-ready room on the temple’s north side. The walls were of ramshackle bamboo cane, and the moon shone brightly throughout the night.

Fifteenth day [5 August]: Rose at dawn. I had no comb for my hair, so I hastily proceeded to the lodging in town, leaving Tranquil Hearing still resting in the temple. At first, I was planning to have Servant Gu go and attend to his needs, then bring both Tranquil Hearing and the baggage back to the inn, but Servant Gu was also unable to get out of bed, and I spent the whole day sitting in a room upstairs waiting for him to get better. But Gu was confined to bed the entire day, and there was no time to go out and explore. This day was extremely hot, and with the two sick men lying immobile in different places, I was anxious, not knowing whether to go out or stay put. I filled in the time by recording what I had seen in the last two or three days of travel from Guilin, and when evening came, I went to bed.

Sixteenth day [6 August]: Before Servant Gu had risen, I wanted to go on my own to bring Tranquil Hearing back, but Servant Gu forced himself to get up and make the trip instead, so I gave him money to recover Tranquil Hearing’s bag and blanket. Later in the morning, Gu came back, but not with Tranquil Hearing—with one of the monks from the temple, instead. He said that the previous day, Tranquil Hearing had been somewhat better and in the evening showed even greater improvement, but today, he was weak and seemed close to death; he needed urgently to be brought here in a sedan chair. “If his illness is acute,” I responded, “it would be a big mistake to move him,” and I urged the monk to keep him a bit longer—I would come and check on him and bring a doctor to treat him on the spot.

The monk went off looking very glum. I did not wait for lunch but went out the east gate, passed Two Tang Worthies Shrine, and turned west to the Marquis Liu Temple [Liuhou Miao]. The Marquis Liu Stele (Liuhou Bei) stands before it, with Han Yu’s (768–824) poem written in Su Shi’s (1037–1101) hand; Liu’s tomb lies behind.²² I note that in the Comprehensive Gazetteer of the Great Ming, there is a record only of Liu Fen’s tomb in Liuzhou and no mention of Liu Zongyuan—why is this? Perhaps I should look into it. I hastened to the Heavenly Consort Temple to see Tranquil Hearing and found him feeble and delirious, not at all himself. When I first questioned him, he could not give me proper answers, but when I pressed him, it emerged that he had felt a bit better. Still, in the evening, he had taken a dose of calamus (changpu) and realgar (xionghuang) and afterward was seized with enormous fatigue. I assumed he was suffering from the extreme heat, and when he took this very warming medicine with its assertive properties, it was not surprising that it had this effect. A few days ago, I was reading Gems of Western Affairs (Xishi er), and it mentioned that people in this area often drink calamus wine at the Dragon Boat Festival, causing, in one instance, the deaths of all the members of one family.²³ I had drawn a warning from this, but Tranquil Hearing had made the mistake of taking just such a medicine when he was already ill, and it is a miracle he did not die on the spot.

I was inclined to counteract the effect with basal benefit powder (yi yuansan) but feared that Tranquil Hearing would not trust me. So I walked two li to the north gate and found a doctor named Dong to come and diagnose his condition. The doctor said that the powder would do no harm and that Tranquil Hearing would recover after taking it. So I accompanied him to his home, where I observed that his medical preparations were random and lacking focus. I returned his medicine to the inn, went out looking for basal benefit powder elsewhere, then asked Servant Gu to take it to Tranquil Hearing and pass on the doctor’s advice to take the powder and then decoct and take the accompanying herbal medicine. At dusk, Servant Gu returned, and I learned that Tranquil Hearing’s symptoms had somewhat moderated after taking the powder.

Seventeenth day [7 August]: Thunder rumbled in the middle of the night, and rain began as dawn broke. After breakfast, I sent Servant Gu to check on Tranquil Hearing’s illness, and he gradually improved. Soon after noon, the rain stopped, but the steamy humidity remained. I remained in the inn, feeling too tired to go out.

Liuzhou has a river on three sides, so it is known as Ewer Town [Hucheng]. The river flows down from the north, then abruptly turns and flows back toward the north. The town is broader at the southern turn and narrower at the northern end, thus forming the shape of a ewer. That is why Liu Zongyuan wrote: “The river winds like the nine folds of a gut.… ”²⁴

Eighteenth day [8 August]: Since Servant Gu was too ill to cook, I had breakfast at a congee stall. Then I went out the east gate to see Tranquil Hearing. One li to the north, I passed Two Worthies Shrine, and on the east passed Opened Prime Monastery. I arrived at the Heavenly Consort Temple to find his condition somewhat improved, but in appearance and spirit he was still not his old self. At first, I had the idea of giving money to the temple monk so that he could buy mung beans to mix with rice and make porridge and also lay on some bean sprouts and fresh ginger, but when I asked him about the money I had given earlier, it turned out he had not bought rice but noodles and flat-cakes instead. Fearing he would do the same thing again, I did not give him money this time, intending to buy the rice myself and then pass it on to him. But all that happened was that Tranquil Hearing and the monk attacked me verbally. The patient did not believe in medicine but in ghosts, while the monk preferred a meat diet to a vegetarian diet, and so he had tempted Tranquil Hearing with hearty meat dishes, and Tranquil Hearing went along with him. The monk said that what Tranquil Hearing needed was not medicine but nourishment, and Tranquil Hearing said I was only concerned about money and not his life—which shows that he still was not thinking straight. So I headed back, looking in on Opened Prime Monastery on the way.

The monastery is an old building dating from the Tang: although large, it has no other notable features to commend it. Then I went west to Two Tang Worthies Shrine and looked for a man who sold rubbings. I bought a rubbing of Han Yu’s poem in Su Shi’s hand. I also looked for other rubbings and noticed that he had a copy of Liu Zongyuan’s “Inscription on Stone at Luo Pond” (Luochi tishi).²⁵ The calligraphy was energetic and the carving ancient, and although the latter portion of the text had worn away, the original form was still intact.

I asked the man to look for a few other sheets, and he cheerfully responded, “That is easy.” He then produced a stone rubbing fresh out of a newly copied mold and only just carved. “Where is the original stele?” I asked. “It is cracked and broken. This is not like the old one—corroded and incomplete.” I was sorry to hear that the original stele had suffered such damage. I thanked him for doing the new version but left with only the original rubbing and the two big sheets from Han Yu’s work.

“Where is the Luo Pond?” I asked as I left. “Go north on the big street to the right of the shrine, then turn east on the side alley, which will lead you straight there. But now it is within the walls of a private home, and it is not easy to access.”

Following his directions, I walked one-half li up the street leading north but drew a blank. I then turned east down an alley and made more inquiries, and at first, the locals said they did not know.

In the end, one person realized what I was talking about. “Do you mean ‘Night Moon at Luo Pond’ [Luochi Yeyue]? That site was washed away long ago. It can no longer be seen.”

“How did this happen?” I asked.

“On the southeast bank of the river, there is Lamp Terrace Mountain [Dengtai Shan], and its reflection in the pond was a celebrated sight. But the locals got fed up with all the officials coming here for picnics, so they tossed stones and rubbish into the pond until it was clogged. That ruined the reflection, and now there is nothing to see.”

I asked to have a look, so the man led me through a gap in the wall by the corner of the house. We walked through a side gate, and I found myself at the edge of a pond. The water was very dirty, and to the south, I found two lines of ruins, with a section of wall and half a corner still visible—I assume that these are the remains of the pavilion that once stood here. On the east side stood two longan trees, tall and big, attractively lush, and with much fruit hanging from their branches. I reckoned that this spot must have been at the rear of the Liu Shrine and the former Luo Pond Temple (Luochi Miao), where Marquis Liu once resided in spirit. The current pond is no longer fit to be owned by his spirit—how could one expect it to survive as a sightseeing destination? I grieved over this for a long time, then returned to the inn for lunch.

After that, I went out the small south gate and inquired about a boat to Rong County, wanting to arrange travel the next day.²⁶ Only then did I learn that it would be market-day at Liuzhou’s north gate and that boats headed home once the market closed; many boats would leave for Shagong.²⁷

I followed the river toward the main south gate and crossed to the south side. Somewhat to the west lies Horse Saddle Mountain, the tallest peak in the area, with both of its extremities thrusting high; it is the prefecture’s anchor mountain. Slightly to the east is Screen Mountain [Pingfeng Shan], which is recumbent and square. To the northeast is Lamp Terrace Mountain, tall and curving north, next to the river. West of Horse Saddle, with a sharp peak, is Standing Fish Mountain [Liyu Shan]. It rises uniquely like a fish standing upright. To the south, another mountain is in alignment with it, and unless you get closer and walk beneath, you cannot distinguish the two.

Standing Fish is right next to the road that leads to Bin Subprefecture, at the southwest corner of the town. From the northwest, I followed steps up and around the mountain’s base. Halfway up the mountain, facing east, was the entry to a cavern. Just outside and up to the right was another cavity—like a hollow above a belvedere—in which an image of the mountain god had been set in place. Down to the left, several steps led to another grotto, like a narrow cleft between sheer cliffs—it was so tall one could walk straight in. Inside was a statue of a bodhisattva. The entry to the main cavern was like a wide, gaping mouth, and the interior was broad, level, and open. On the ceiling were carved in reverse order four large characters, “Southward Come This Cave” (Nanlai cixue), written by Yang Fang of Sichuan. Outside stands a stele with a poem, as well. There is a full array of images of gods inside, and in the rear are two cavities, one on the south side and one on the north. When you thread your way to the west, the entries are so small they could have been carved with a knife. I first entered through the southern cavity, which suddenly opened into a tall space. To the west was another portal, opening to the west side of the mountain, a secluded area in which large images of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) were displayed.²⁸ Through the passage behind, you cross a threshold, and after you exit, you overlook a sheer canyon. I could see a cluster of peaks stretching far into the distance in the southwest.

Going through the cavity on the right and then down, there was another cavern, its opening facing west. Inside was not tall but wide, with a stone column standing in the middle and statues of various deities grouped around it. Behind the column was a tunnel, the northern of the two tunnels from the previous cavern. Then I realized that one could walk from one side of the mountain to the other in a delightfully open way, something that one rarely finds in Guilin’s many caverns. Once inside, I followed the spire’s rock face up to the left and found that the cavern extended from south to north, acquiring greater height. There were five holes in the cavern’s roof, and when one looked up, they almost looked like bright stars spreading their light.

Below, an incline opened to the right, providing a route to the monk’s den, but a barred door blocked passage.… So I followed the rock around and exited through another opening to the south. Ahead, I saw a small outcrop parallel to the main peak. From here, climbing stone steps, I ascended all the way to the summit of Standing Fish.

It seems that the cavern extends through much of the body of the mountain, with two portals to the east, three to the west, and one to the south. Its ceiling is high, and the slanted part has cracks, with over ten grottoes, some wide and some narrow, of infinite interest. The cavern is deep, and you never come to a dead end. It is really a remarkable place.

After making several turns, I exited through the front grotto, then ascended a flight of steps to the right and rested briefly in the monk’s cottage. Looking down to the east, I saw a pond that gathered run-off from the vicinity; in the middle, it was still, but water was seeping out, and I did not know where it went. To the northeast is the northwest slope of Horse Saddle Mountain, where Transcendent’s Chess Cavern [Xianyi Yan] is situated. The locals know it only as Horse Saddle and no longer recognize the earlier name—actually, it is the same mountain.²⁹ To the southeast is the southwest peak of Horse Saddle Mountain, where Longevity Star Cavern [Shouxing Yan] is located. When you gaze at the distant mountains to the rear, you see a circle of double peaks; the combination of that view and the closer spectacle of Horse Saddle cannot be grasped in just one visit. By this time, the sun was low in the sky, and rain was falling continually. Since I wanted to visit Tranquil Hearing one more time, I left the exploration of Transcendent’s Chess Cavern for a future occasion.³⁰

I proceeded down the mountain for one li, crossed the river to the south gate, and walked another three li to the northeast, arriving at the Heavenly Consort Temple with a supply of beans and vegetables. Tranquil Hearing and the monk, however, reproached me yet again. I wanted to redeem the blanket, but the head monk avoided me and failed to appear. So I dropped the matter and left, entering the town hurriedly since the gate was about to be closed for the night. I reached the inn as it got dark and went to bed without having dinner.

Nineteenth day [9 August]: I rose before dawn to find it raining heavily. I went out early through the north gate to look at the market, but with all the rain, the streets were waterlogged and only some of the vendors were there.

Later in the morning, I returned to the inn for lunch. I had planned to set aside money for rice and mung beans and send Servant Gu over to escort Tranquil Hearing back, only to find that he had already arrived at the inn. Although he had not completely recovered, he left his sheet and blanket behind in the Heavenly Consort Temple and came over alone. I took the innkeeper aside and asked him to let Tranquil Hearing and Servant Gu stay on and rest up during my absence. I collected my bag and went out the southwest gate, paid for a passage on a place on a small Shagong boat, and got on board. But the other passengers were not leaving until the following morning, so I spent the night by the sandbank.

Twentieth day [10 August]: Since we had to wait for all the passengers to arrive, it was well into the morning before the boat set off. From the west end of town, we went north, following the Liu River, and after we passed the west gate, the town became less visible, no longer having frontage on the water. Goose Mountain [Eshan] reared straight on the west bank, standing alone in the broad valley like a signpost. As we continued north, there were still a lot of thatched cottages perched on the east bank above grain barges densely packed with sheaves of rice. Women would go to the water’s edge to weigh the rice and make their purchases. The boats had all come down from Liucheng and Rong County.³¹ After proceeding north another twenty li, we moored on the west bank at Old Mound Bastion [Guling Bao].

When you travel northwest from Liuzhou, rocky peaks and gentle hills appear at intervals on both banks. After a string of hills, dozens of rocky peaks suddenly stand in a line, sharp and steep, some obscured, some clear to see. What makes the landscape different from Yangshuo and Guilin is that all you see there are rocky peaks, without a single hill interrupting them, whereas here the rocky peaks, like awls in a pouch, still strike you as novel, the way they poke out from among the other hills.

On this northwest stretch of the Liu River, one sees sharp rocks on both banks, but they do not interfere with river traffic, and the current is gentle. The mountains’ elegant reflections in the water fall short of the stunning views along the river in Yangshuo, nor are they the equal of the hanging sandbanks and desolate reefs along the river in Luorong.

I have observed three kinds of river views here in Guangxi—none as hazardous as Jian Stream.³² Along the Li River at Yangshuo, although there are many sandbanks, not a single rock is found among them, but on both sides sheer rock faces rise, curbing the river’s flow, and multiple outcrops hem the river in as it winds—this is the most spectacular of river excursions. On Luorong’s Luoqing River, the sandbanks are high, and the current is strong; the shoreline has no projecting rocks, and the hills are all densely covered slopes—this is the least dramatic river excursion. On the Liu River of Liucheng, water flows evenly over the sandbanks, and there are many rocky outcrops along the banks, some high and some low, alternating with hills. This scenery, placed between Yangshuo and Luorong, ranks in the middle of the pack regarding river travel.

Xu Xiake arrived in Rong County on the twenty-fourth day of the sixth month. The following day, he made his first tour of the celebrated Perfected Transcendent Cavern [Zhenxian Dong], with its iconic cluster of speleothems known as “Lord Lao’s Seat” [Laojun Zuo], traditionally likened to a sculpture of a seated Laozi surrounded by elephants and oxen. Xu spent the next two weeks exploring the caverns in the area, not returning to Liuzhou until the tenth day of the seventh month.

Twenty-ninth day [19 August]:³³ When I got up in the morning, I urged the monk, Contemplating Wisdom (Canhui), to look for people to make a raft. However, before he had set off, the woodcutters I had talked to the day before arrived in a noisy throng and asked me, “Did you make it into the cavern?” I told them I was waiting for a boat to be brought. “It is impossible to carry a boat here,” they said. “If we tie logs together to make a raft and push it into the cave, that will work just as well as a boat.”

I had Contemplating Wisdom pay them with the money I had given him. They then carried logs into the stream, felled bamboo, and set to make a raft. Before long, the raft was made, and they then fetched a long ladder from the cavern, placed it down on top of the raft, and put a wooden tub on top of that. I then perched on the tub and rested my feet on the ladder. The men in front pulled the raft forward with a rope; those on the sides guided it and prodded it with poles, while those behind supported it with their shoulders. When they encountered deep water, they guided the raft as it floated; they clung to its sides when it had drifted too far for them to guide it. Initially, we went upstream from the entrance; when I gazed upward at the cavern ceiling, it looked all the more vault-like, with steep rocky sides streaked green and red. The farther we went, the more remarkable it was, and looking ahead, I glimpsed natural light in the far distance as chambers opened on either side. From amid the clear and swirling waters, we entered, pushing through the void, reciting the Banished Transcendent’s “Waters flow far into the distance / Opening into another world,” it was as though the poet spoke those lines precisely for me on this day.³⁴ Once we went through a second entryway, a cavernous void stretched above, and dark depths extended below. At the same time, on either side, the walls were studded with recesses, everywhere shaded by swaying curtains. Whether we were looking back toward the entrance or forward to where we were heading, light shone in on us either way. Were we men or transcendents? How were we able to reach this spot? There was no way to tell!

The raft pushers wanted to stop in the middle and climb up the bank with torches lit to explore the side chambers fully. But I had them first proceed upstream and exit the cavern so that I could reach the end of the chambers that had natural light. Carrying along the channel, we got to the rear entrance facing southwest, where the spring flowed in. The stream descended through stones, and the raft, obstructed by the rocks, could go no farther. So I left the raft, and clambering on the rocks, I exited the cavern, finding myself in a bright, open space. The stream stones were so rough that it was impossible to walk on them; looking upward on the left rock face, I saw steep steps among the brush, so clutching the undergrowth, I made my way up the slope and within a few dozen paces I reached a footpath. I saw level ground surrounded by a cluster of peaks in all directions, and I realized I was now in the northeast corner of the north cavern I had seen from the road—now to the south. So then I went left and passed a slight dip to the east, reckoning that if I made a turn up ahead, I would reach the main road east of the double beams, and then, climbing the narrow path up to the crest, I should be able to get the cavern entrance on the cliff opposite the Lord Lao’s Seat—all these landmarks could be found by keeping directions in mind.

But the raft pushers were all waiting for me to continue the tour inside, so I went back and boarded the raft, and following the current, we entered the cavern, again reaching the central gate. I noticed that chambers could be climbed on both sides, but on the west face, the chamber was tall and hard to climb. Also, I had earlier explored the dark cavern, and it seemed that we were now near to it, whereas the east cliff had multiple chambers that I had never seen. So I lit a torch and entered to the east. Above, stalactites formed a screen, and a ring of pillars created doors, similar to the sights in the dark cavern behind Lord Lao’s Seat. Inside, I followed gaps and penetrated openings, many of which had adjacent cavities. Natural light came in from above, with fragments of cloud visible, so I knew that I was very close to the east slope of the mountain; it was just that the holes were small and vertical, not allowing human access, so they offered no outlet. From the side, after taking several turns, I exited to the north and found myself on the lower level of the cliff opposite Lord Lao, and here, there were traces of goldstone and dragon-field deposits. Following the cliff, I could look down at the stream below.

Above, there was a stone latrine—can it be that once a kiosk was erected here, and a beam was placed across as a bridge? On the rear wall, the four large characters “Longevity Mountain’s Blessed Realm” (Shoushan Fudi) are inscribed in a very ancient and unusual fashion. I could not discern whose calligraphy this was. When I went out again, I could see the upper tier of the opposite cliff, with a dense array of columns. Open apertures gave access to the outside, but the rock face stood steeply some distance away, with no access to this level. So we floated down on the raft. I wanted to climb up from the stream, but the bank was sheer, and there was no way to climb. I reckon that one needs to turn south in front of the cavern: when you get to the northeast corner of the dip, if you climb to the top of the hill, you can get in that way. It is impossible to climb inside the cavern unless one places a beam across the stream. So we went back into the cavern on the raft. Where the water discharges, it is shallow and narrow, and nothing is notable. Only then did I climb the east bank as the boatmen disassembled the raft and hauled away the timber.

I quickly called back one of the smarter woodcutters to carry the remaining torches and guide me to the Duke Liu Cavern [Liugong Dong]. We went north along the main path for one-half li, then turned southwest into a small bight and carried on toward a canyon in the direction that the old farmer had earlier indicated. Although the guide had often gathered firewood in this area, he did not know which cavern was Duke Liu Cavern. After another two li, we reached the foot of the mountain. In the distance, I saw a cavern on the south mountain, facing east and hunched low; another on the south mountain, facing north and perched high; and one on the central, prominent peak in the north mountains, facing east and shallow. I was at a loss, not knowing how to go, when I heard a herdsman coughing. I called him and asked for directions; it turned out that the cavern perched high was the one I was looking for.

I began to make my way through the brush in that direction. Seeing me carry a single bunch of torches, the man scoffed: “In that cavern, you need to have a lot of torches if you want to get to the end. It is no use having just one bunch.” This convinced me that the cavern was deep, and I regretted bringing so few torches.

Amid the low growth, the stone pavers were hard to spot; following them, I climbed up and saw a huge rock spanning the cavern entrance. One entered through a gap in the rocks; large characters reading “West Peak Cavern” (Xifeng Yan) were carved into the rock face, written by Li Guigao in the third year of the Baoyou reign (1255). There are two other inscriptions, one illegible, the other commemorating the opening of this cave by Prefect Liu Jizu in the first year of the Shaoding reign (1228), recorded and written by one Rao, Administrator for Public Order (sili canjun) in Guilin. The gist is that Guangxi’s wonders are largely concentrated in its mountains and rivers. Perfected Transcendent Cavern is foremost in the world, and they say that Lord Lao’s Cavern [Laojun Dong] ranks second, with Jade Flower [Yuhua] and Pellet [Danzi] next. West Peak Cavern is on par with Perfected Transcendent but has only recently been opened up. Only now did I realize this was why the cavern is known as Duke Liu Cavern. And it was now all the more apparent that when this cavern was first discovered, it must have been marked with an elegant path and entry pavilion, whereas now it is desolate and hard to access. I am struck by Rong’s flourishing in those days and how much in decline it is now!

Entering the cavern, I found it very spacious. Lighting a torch, I entered from the rear right side; there was a profusion of vertical columns and twisting chambers, but before long, I reached the exit. Then I entered from the rear left side, where the columns were imposing and the portals steep-sided, and after proceeding some distance, the more I turned, the grander it became, with draperies and stalagmites arrayed on both sides. I went up and down, turned this way and that, never reaching the end and seeing more than I could record. Concerned that the torches might be expended, I rushed ahead as fast as possible. I left having just tasted morsels, not knowing what delights the farthest reaches had to offer. Tang Rong’s “Engraved Account of the Perfected Transcendent” (Zhenxian juan ji) says, “West Peak Cavern, like Pellet Cavern, adds further marvels, but is a little tight.”³⁵ When he referred to it as “tight,” could it be that he was misled by the huge stone at the entrance and did not realize the expansiveness of its palatial walls?

After going downhill, I gazed westward at the cavern with an eastward entry on the north mountain. Although it looked shallow from the outside, its rocky stance was imposing, with two parallel openings; the passages had to be connected in the middle. I walked below to find that the rock face was sheer, and there was no way up. At this time, the guide had already gone back, but seeing me lingering and looking upward, he returned and led me into a small cavern on the southern flank. Its entrance facing south was shallow and did not connect with the upper cavern. So the upper cavern precipitously overlooked half the peak, and looking at it from a distance, it appeared very remarkable, but seen at close quarters, there is nothing notable to see, and since the path had petered out, there was no other recourse, deterring me from going any farther.

I proceeded eastward, and when I turned and looked back, I was drawn to the cavern’s captivating appearance. I pressed the guide to find a way for us to scale the rock, so he cleared away brush to make steps then clambered up using his hands and feet like a monkey. I followed suit and thus reached the top of the cliff. Another tall rock face stood nearby, but there was a way to bridge the gap between them. The cave looked shallow from the outside, and I concluded that it would not lead to any hidden depths even if it had some exquisite features. Only then did I set off back, having satisfied all my aspirations. I continued southeast for two li until I reached Perfected Transcendent Cavern.

It was midday, so I rested inside the cavern, searching and perusing the boulders’ inscriptions. But the ladder slipped off the rock face, and I fell with it, ending up with scrapes on my eyebrows and knees.

Perfected Transcendent Cavern is bright inside, and one can nestle in its creases; it is silent and dust-free. The drawback is the constant roar of the stream, and in the dark corners, there are snakes, although they do not pose a hazard. But a multitude of mosquitoes made sleep difficult. Late on the night of the twenty-eighth, I heard a loud noise, like an old man clearing his throat; it went on for quite some time. I inquired about it in the morning and was told it was a tiger’s roar. The animal’s head is large in proportion to its body and it lurks in its den at night. This was only the evening when it made itself heard—it was silent otherwise.

First day of the seventh month [20 August]: Rose early, but I rested inside the cavern because I was still sore from the previous day’s accident. The sheet of paper I laid over the Huang Tingjian [1045–1105] stele the night before as the first step to taking an impression was still on the stone.³⁶ I had not yet applied ink and feared that it would be warmed by the sun later in the morning, so with some effort, I climbed the rock face to make a rubbing. I had just finished when Contemplating Wisdom called me for breakfast. So I left, leaving the rubbing on the stele to dry. I ate quickly, but by the time I got back down, someone had gone off with my rubbing. Earlier, I had made a rubbing of the stele portrait of Laozi on the left rock face, and it had disappeared after I left it overnight to dry. This was the second time my labors had come to nothing, and I felt extremely vexed. For here, there was no paper; earlier, when the authorities instructed the local monks to bring paper to the cavern to make a rubbing of Account of the Yuanyou Faction (Yuanyou Dang ji), I was able to purchase four large sheets.³⁷ Local government clerks supervised the rubbers, and they wanted to wait until the Faction Account Stele [Dangji bei] was finished before they could rub the large Han Qi (1008–75) stele, so I stayed around to wait.³⁸ I had first taken a sheet of paper from the unused sheaf to rub this stele, but now it had proved to be a waste of effort. The stele could be rubbed again, but the paper could not be replaced, and I could only sit and wait for the rubbers to finish the Han Qi stele. Today, the monks reckoned that the stele would be completed the next day so they could do the rubbing for me on the third, but the Han Qi stele was large, and there was no place to stand on the two sides, so first, I brought pieces of timber over to make a trestle.

Second day [21 August]: Today was market day in the county seat. Because I was tied down as I waited for the rubbings, I wanted to go and have a look at the market. Only when I left the cavern did I realize it was raining. Inside the cavern, one hears such a constant gurgle of running water that there is no way to tell whether it is sunny or wet outside. So I returned to the cavern and resumed rubbing the Huang Tingjian stele. In the afternoon, I rested in the cavern.

Third day [22 August]: Mist early; in the morning it cleared. I sat in the cavern, waiting for the stele rubbers. After some time, they arrived; the county authorities had again issued paper for the rubbing, but the job would not be completed until the fourth.

So I left the cavern and searched for a path leading to the cavern on the opposite mountain. To the east, I crossed the rocky ridge in front of the cavern then followed the mountain south and turned west. The path was hidden in the grass and often could not be seen, and once I had scaled the ridge of the hill behind, I could not find a path that led up the mountain to the west. So I trampled the undergrowth and climbed rocks, scrambling halfway up the mountain in my search, but all I saw was a jagged rock face with no way in. When I took stock of my position, I felt I had come too far south, so I headed back down the rock. Suddenly, two farmers passed ahead of me, so I ran over to question them, and they confirmed that the cave was still to the north.

Following in the northwesterly direction that they indicated, sure enough, I found an opening amid the brush. Wide enough only to accommodate one person, it fell away steeply on the other side. I bent over and looked down: over three rods deep, it was the cavern one saw from the monk’s eyrie on the north face. I could hear the voices of the monks rubbing the stele down below, but the rock face was perpendicular; I could not simply throw myself into space. After studying the terrain for some time, I noticed that on the left face, there was a crevice running vertically, and although it offered no grips for feet and toes, the sides of the gap were a foot and a half apart so that if I pressed my arms and feet against the sides, I could descend a little way. I swiveled left toward the crack, but the rocks all slanted downward, and none angled upward; smooth and shiny, they offered no handhold or foothold, so I had to proceed by crawling on my belly. Like a bird scraping the sky or an ape leaping through the air, it seemed a feat that the spirit of hands and feet could not achieve. Once I was in the crack, I propped myself inside, but with no fingerholds, I could not move my feet, and with no toeholds, I could not lower my body. My arms and feet clung to the rock as though glued or nailed, but if I were to make the slightest movement, I would slip and fall. However, even if I wanted to stay still, simply gripping the rock indefinitely would exhaust all my strength and lead me eventually to slip, so I realized I would do better to make the best of the situation and bend my knees as I let go. Then, as I was about to hit the ground, I strove to keep flexible and absorb the impact, avoiding falling headlong. This was a solution I came up with when I had no other option—it is not something that I recommend you try.

Now that I had made the descent, I saw that the cave was four or five rods wide, level in the middle, and overlooking a deep stream at the other end; ahead of me was a line of posts tied together like a balustrade, evidently put there as a safety precaution, out of fear that people might lose their footing and fall into the gorge. The cavern’s walls exhibited a lively variety of bulges and recesses, like fretwork, but reaching a level of subtlety that fretwork cannot achieve. Ahead, there was a view of the west cliff while light shone from the cavern roof behind. From inside, one could see the two ends of the stream below, and one also commanded a clear view of both entry points into the cavern, grasping at once its full range, a unique feature among all the wonders on display. If Perfected Transcendent is the first in the world, as Zhang Xiaoxiang (1132–70) of the Song labeled it, then this has to be the foremost treasure of Perfected Transcendent.³⁹

To the right, a rock rose flat above the stream, as though in a full-lotus posture, while above water dripped from a stalactite directly onto one end of the rock so that the rock glistened like jade. It would surely match the dew dish beneath a transcendent’s palm if one could catch the moisture in a little hollow.

Off to one side, I climbed the rock face northward and found two more openings leading into two more grottoes; both were spotlessly clean, while their corrugated walls, in a variety of shapes and hues, gleamed as though freshly created. In the forward chamber, there was another pillar rising from beside the stream; in the middle, it thinned to the diameter of a finger, then touched the roof above, where linked drapes scattered like dragons, their slender fingers hanging down; several conspicuous strands had water dripping from their tips. A round rock rising three feet from the ground was as glossy as a bottle; it boomed like a bell when I slapped it. Rocks hanging down alongside made a similar sound, but this one was distinctive in standing alone.

These three caverns are not interconnected but form a continuous frontage on the outside. The stream acts as a pathway, and the opening in the roof brings in light; there are no stray water drops that fall randomly inside the cavern, and the stalactites act as a door screen—surely there can be no more perfect place to sleep among clouds and to pillow a stream!

This feature lies east of the stream, on the upper level of the rock face. It is very close to the lower level of the mountain to the south, but a stone barrier separates them, plunging into the streambed and making it impossible to ford. A little way inside, a crevice extends southward; the entrance is circuitous, and the passage is winding; a dense network of dragon-shaped stalactites hangs down. I hoped the cavern would provide access to the mountain’s south side, but a layer of rock stood in the way. If one could bore a hole through, one would be able to get access from here, and from the lower level, one could reach the pontoon bridge and cross over to behind Lord Lao’s Seat; one could thus create a link between the sights on both cliffs above and below, without resorting to a path outside and thereby avoiding the danger of having to jump down. That would truly be a wonderful way of enhancing the appeal of this site.

Now, although I had slipped into the cavern from above, I realized that it would be impossible to climb back out, so I called across the stream to the stele-rubbers in the monk’s eyrie and asked them to lower a rope down for me, hoping I could use it to climb up and join them. But they were not familiar with the path that led outside and suggested offhandedly that they lay a long ladder across the stream instead. But it would be hard to cross the stream, and the ladder would not be long enough to reach half the cliff’s height—even if I crossed the stream, I could not get down. I hesitated for a long time, planning to wait until Contemplating Wisdom, the cavern monk, returned so that he could find the right path and give me a rope.

It was afternoon, and I still had not had a midday meal. After scanning the area below several times, I saw a vertical crevice, and though it offered no handgrips, there was a hollow beneath the overhang next to it. I could not see what lay above, but it seemed possible there might be a way down from there. So like a bird spreading its wings, I took a leap into space and found I had escaped from the trap and extricated myself from the well—my delight can be easily imagined. I descended through the brush for one li, then went over the stone bridge, entered the cavern, and ate lunch. Because my clothes were stained in the afternoon, I took them to the stream to wash, and then dusk fell.

Sixth day [25 August]:⁴⁰ Now that the projects inside the cavern have been completed, I want to explore Iron Flag Cavern [Tieqi Yan], so I have prepared. But on this day, rain suddenly began to pelt down. Ignoring this inconvenience, I set off as soon as I had finished breakfast. After one li, I passed the north cavern I saw when I arrived, and after another one-half li, when I reached the south cavern, the rainfall was even heavier. Still, I wanted to climb up to the south cavern, so clutching shrubs and pushing aside the brush, I braved the rain and made the ascent. Though I had reached the area below the two peaks, I could not find the cavern. The rain came down in torrents, so I pressed close to the rock face to avoid it, but the rain showed even less sign of stopping, and I was soaked from head to foot. I gave up trying to shield myself and used my umbrella as a walking stick; clinging to the shrubbery as though it were a cable, I descended through the rain.

It seemed that the cavern was farther to the east; the hill I had climbed was to the west. Looking up from below, the cavern’s location was obvious, but when I searched for it at closer proximity, it was hidden from sight. After braving the rain for one more li, I passed Serene Spirit Pool [Anling Tan] to the south, and after one-half li, I crossed to the west side of the stream and then took the left fork toward a dell. After another one-half li, I went west across the dell; the path gradually widened, and the rain gradually tapered off. I passed through a cleft, and after one li, I crossed a little bridge to the south. This was the upper reaches of the little stream I crossed when I arrived. I then gazed up at the mountain to the south of the bridge; halfway up, I saw a cavern facing north with a path leading up to it, so I immediately headed there. The cavern extended deeply, but it had no other chambers. Inside, the locals made paper—of a very coarse quality—with a pond, stove, and baking equipment ready by the side of the cavern.

Although nobody was inside, I knew I was now not far from Guding Village [Guding Cun]. So I went farther in and wrung out my sodden clothes, then went down the mountain and followed the foothills round to the west, where there was a row of village houses—quite a densely populated cluster in this hilly area. When I asked about Iron Flag Cavern, the residents pointed halfway up the northwest peak. After another one-half li, I reached the southeast corner of the peak and saw a cavern opening on the waist of the peak; I assumed that this was it. I looked for a path to the left and right but could not find one, so I roamed around several times. Walking farther west, I finally spotted a cavern halfway up the mountain, with a pavilion perched in front of it, but I found no path either to the left or right. After walking back and forth for some time, I saw a boy fishing, and he guided me: it turned out that the path was at the foot of the mountain, but the entrance was waterlogged and covered by grasses, so it was easy to miss. As I climbed higher, I found tiered steps with fallen trees on either side, clumps of wood-ear fungus on their trunks, and mushrooms clinging to their lower extremities. Since I was in a hurry to get into the cavern, I did not bother to inspect them closely.

When I reached the cavern, I found the door closed. I tugged on the rope latch and found no monk inside; since the rain continued to pelt down, I pushed open the door and entered. The cavern faced Lu Knoll Mountain [Lulong Shan], south of Hundred Pace Dike [Baibu Tang]. The crest of the mountain on which Guding Village was located lay to the left, while the crest of the mountain where Seething Water Cavern [Feishui Yan] is located lay to the right; the cavern lay halfway up the mountain, with the entrance round and open and a pavilion projecting inside. The cavern’s interior was not very spacious; there was a dense cluster of statues of gods. When one turned to the right, the cavern became broader and darker; before long, it rewound on itself, lacking other chambers. Although the cavern had no special marvels, it offered a rich interplay of contrasting light. The “iron flag” moniker denotes the peak, not the cavern.

Looking around, I saw that the monk’s kitchen accessories were on the right side of the cavern, and his sleeping quarters were in the pavilion. I went up there, took my clothes off, wrung them out and hung them by the window, then covered myself with clothes that the monk had left and waited for him. In the early afternoon, I saw a monk at the bottom of the mountain, wearing a bamboo hat and making his way up through the thatch grass. Time passed, and he still had not arrived; it turned out he was collecting fungus to fill up his basket, which was why he took so long.

When the monk arrived and found I had entered the closed space without his permission, he was very insulting in words and manner. I explained that I had come a long way and encountered rain, so I had no choice but to enter, and now I was waiting to be fed. At first, he demurred because he had neither rice nor firewood. I had taken a peek inside his storage pot and found it well stocked, so although I did not directly expose his mendacity, I insisted he cook a meal. Once he gave in, I chatted with him, and the conversation became cordial. Not only did he cook rice, but he also made a soup with the fungus and fetched firewood to dry my clothes. A native of Hunan, he was fond of employing Chan sayings. After I had eaten, I offered to pay for the meal, but he refused to accept money.

By then, the rain had gradually stopped, so I asked him how to find Dragon Cave. Having not lived here long, he confused it with Seething Water Cavern and pointed to a cavern opening to the southwest. Not knowing better, I followed his instructions, and after one-half li, I reached the foot of the mountain. There, I found a water-filled entrance, the channel very full. From the sound the water made, the cavern seemed to be very large, and to the east, it was the same, for most likely, it was an empty cavity that the water had filled. But the Dragon Cave that I had heard about was said to be halfway up the mountain, so I looked upward and climbed the slope. The mountain was divided into two peaks, a sheer gap separating them; to the west, there was a shallow cavern, and to the east, I saw a cleft. I tramped through thickets on the hillside to explore farther but could not find a cavern where the water collected. I went back down, still not realizing that what I had seen was not Dragon Cave but Seething Water Cavern.

East one-half li, I hurried to the village of Guding. When I gazed at the mountain behind the village, I saw two cavern openings facing south, one tall and narrow, the other round. I told myself I could not afford to miss this extraordinary feature, so I ascended eastward from the fork. The narrow opening extended upward to form a vault; a rock hung like a door in front. To the east, it opened onto a ledge, and from there, I made my way down to the adjacent, round entrance. It looked like it had been gouged out of a dragon’s lair, and a large rock rose prominently. At that point, I was still under the impression that Seething Water Cavern was Dragon Cave, not realizing that this was the true Dragon Cave.

After descending, I continued along the old road north of the village. I crossed the small bridge to find that the water level in the stream had risen dramatically so that the bridge was submerged under two feet of water, and I had to feel my way across with the umbrella. It occurred to me that if the small stream were so swollen, the stone weir at Numinous Longevity [Lingshou] would surely be battered by high floodwaters and hard to cross. Just then, I saw a local man laden with bamboo shoots returning to Guding, and I asked him about this. He answered, “The big stream will certainly be hard to cross, but there’s no need to cross it. Cross the ridge and follow the stream to the north when you reach the stream. What you cross is just a little stream, and you wind round and come out to the left of Lord Lao’s Cavern.”

I was very happy to hear this, for not only could I avoid fording high water, but I could also reach the spring that entered the cavern north of Peaceful Spirit [Anling], which was exactly what I had in mind to do. So I followed his advice. I crossed the valley, arriving at the west weir at Peaceful Spirit that I had crossed when I first arrived. The force of the water was powerful and truly not feasible for fording. So I followed the left bank of the stream northward, and after one-half li, I neared the south caverns on the other side, and here the stream turned to the west. Then, I circled an isolated peak on the west and turned north along its west slope, heading east to advance toward the rear cavern of Lord Lao. Here, the path was buried among deep thatch grass, and there was no way to find it, so all I could do was look at the peaks and try to head in the right direction. After going two li, I saw that the big Numinous Longevity stream had now turned east and would not block my way, and in a fold in the west hills, there was another small stream from the west that flowed into it, with a weir on top that I could ford. But the surging waters were so strong that at a place where one could normally cross without difficulty, I could not but sigh that I now had to halt my steps, wide-eyed with wonder.

I hesitated for some time, and the sun was going down in the west once I had crossed. So I followed the stream east, for here there was a path, and passing Duke Liu Cavern to the north, I emerged on the main road that leads to Lower Expanse [Xiakuo]. I calculated the distance, considering the many twists and turns, and at this time, the sky was darkening. I judged that I was now behind the cavern and that if I crossed the valley on my left and then descended, I could arrive in front of the cavern, and even if there were no path, I would not have to fight my way through thatch grass and thorns for more than one li or so, so I sped on as fast as I could. But the valley was all sheer rocks, with vines and prickles intertwined. I sank in up to my neck, and my hands and feet were entangled as though I had plunged into surging billows where there was no possibility of getting out. I reckoned that if I went back to Duke Liu Cavern, I would not make it before nightfall, and at that point, whether it was tiger or wolf, snake or viper, any quick-moving creature would be more than a match for me. Fortunately, the thorns kept out of the way—as though in a state of primordial innocence—some stayed low and slipped between my legs, or I was able to crush them or leap over their hidden tips. Eventually, I emerged on the rim of the depression and made my way briskly down despite all the spines on the slope, feeling all the more that there was no reason to fear falling in the dim light. Thus, I emerged from the vegetable patch to the left and reached the cavern. Contemplating Wisdom had already bolted the door, so I called him to open it, and once I was back in the cavern, I felt as though I had another lease on life.

Seventh day [26 August]: Contemplating Wisdom left early for the purification altar, and because my clothes had not yet dried out, I stayed in the cavern and did my own cooking. On this day, rain fell incessantly, but it let up close to noon, so I hurried to the south end of town to inquire about boats and went farther into town to repair my clothes. Three boats had already left this morning, and I reckoned that I would need to go to this spot to wait, for one could not know in advance when boats would come down from Huaiyuan, while local boats departed at irregular intervals. At dusk, I returned to the cavern to pick up my bag so that I could stay in an inn at the south end of town, but Contemplating Wisdom had still not returned, and so I did not have a chance to say goodbye; I left money with his disciple and left. This was the Seventh Night, but the locals focused exclusively on the Zhongyuan Festival and were unfamiliar with the “begging for cleverness” custom, knowing only how to honor their ancestors—an admirable local tradition.⁴¹ Showers continued in the evening, and the river swelled. I bought wine and sipped it at leisure. I slept on top of straw that night, but the rain seeped through and soaked all my bedding.

Eighth day [27 August]: Rain fell all the more heavily, and the river rose. I found a boat in the morning, hurried aboard with my bag, and then waited for departure. After a long time, the owner arrived, but the boat was very narrow, and there was not adequate room for both of us, so I picked up my things and returned to the inn. By midday, the water spilled over the banks and splashed against the shore. Many of the townsfolk, seeing the water rising by the minute, evacuated to higher ground. I sat facing the churning flow as large trees and trunks floated down the river and careened around like warships jockeying for position. Some locals went out in small crafts to pick up fallen branches, and soon they had a whole boatload. Then, they would tie a long rope to one of the trees, and once it had tumbled into an eddy, they would drag it over to a side course and haul it ashore. “When our houses are about to be lost,” the bystanders said, “why do you bother about firewood?” “We are reaping a harvest from the water,” the boatmen responded. “Not like you people just waiting to be drowned!” Thus, they ribbed each other as they mingled.

Xu Xiake, Tranquil Hearing, and Gu Xing arrived in the central Guangxi town of Xunzhou on the twenty-first day of the seventh month.⁴² Neither Tranquil Hearing nor Gu Xing was feeling well, so the following morning, Xu left them at an inn by the town’s south gate and began a solo excursion to the southeast corner of Guangxi. One of his main goals was to visit an extensive cavern complex near the town of Beiliu.⁴³ Known as Hook Leak Cavern [Goulou Dong], it was a celebrated Daoist “grotto heaven” (dongtian).

Twenty-ninth day [of the seventh month] [17 September]:⁴⁴ After going another five li to the east, where the stone mountains cluster, another peak rears up suddenly, with Precious Scepter Cavern [Baogui Dong] at the west corner and Hook Leak Retreat [Goulou An] on the southern slope. Thunder was rumbling, so I first took refuge in the retreat. It was rebuilt by the authorities during the Wanli reign and is very tidy and clean. The inner hall has three chambers, with a Golden Transcendent (Jinxian) in the middle, Saint Guan (Guansheng) to the east, and Magistrate Ge (Geling) to the west.⁴⁵ The image of Magistrate Ge, with a blue thread cap and vermilion shoes, was strikingly vivid. In the rear suite, a statue of Zhunti Bodhisattva (Zhundi Dashi) was in the middle, with a kitchen on the west side and a seating area on the east. In the front courtyard, hibiscus was in bloom, with clusters of red and pink flowers, while in the rear courtyard, the whitewashed walls provided screening, as bamboo and cassia grew lushly all around, in silence, with no one to be seen.

The Daoist’s wife closed the door behind me as I entered, and I asked her about the procedure for visiting the cavern. “Wait until the Daoist comes back later,” she said. So I left my bag in the vestibule and let her go off while I prepared a meal. By the time I had finished, the rain had stopped and it was dusk; the Daoist now returned. Following instructions from his superior, the magistrate summoned him, demanding that he collect cinnabar and transcendent’s rice (xianren mi) from inside the cavern.

But the idea that Magistrate Ge wanted to access cinnabar here was something he said once in response to a casual impulse. Later, he achieved transcendence on Mount Luofu in Guangdong and never visited here. For ages now, there has been no cinnabar here, so how could there possibly be transcendents’ grains or leftover cinnabar?

The Daoist wore an anxious look on his face. I gave him some money and asked him to prepare a good number of torches for the next day’s exploration. He agreed to do that and was willing to act as a guide …

First day of the eighth month [18 September]:⁴⁶ After breakfast, I first made a trip to Precious Scepter, arranging with the Daoist that he would follow with torches and lanterns. The cavern is one-half li north of the retreat. Behind the retreat, one cavern faces south, and one faces west; seen from a distance, they both are shallow. Precious Scepter is farther to the north. First, a stream from the northwest flows east and rinses the foothills; after crossing it and climbing the mountain to the north, I came across the cavern entrance. It faces west; to the left, the cavern lies open, and to the right, it presents a deeper entrance. The open section is lined with stone slabs on a level with the western peak. To the right, the cavern slants downward, and a stone pillar acts as a gate, with a rock at the top jutting out into space. The path from the side descends to the bottom of the cavern, which opens into four forks: one to the east, one to the south, both very deep and dark, one to the west, agape, and one extending to the north, both empty and bright. On the south side of the east fork, a leaf-shaped rock abruptly drops from one side of the roof and projects into the air like a flat shelf opposite the pillar that acts as an outside gate. Within the leaf-shaped rock are round apertures and curved fissures that allow an unusual amount of light and air to enter. I clambered up the left rock face and reached the flat shelf, where I walked back and forth and then sat down: it really felt like riding the clouds in another world altogether.

After sitting there for some time, I returned and proceeded along the fork extending north. Several rods in length, a stalactite hung low, water dripping slowly from its tip. Farther north, I entered a cleft: to the right, it sloped down to an exit at the north end, while to the left, it extended upward to form an upper layer. These were the north and west forks of the well-lit part of the cavern.

After I had explored for quite some time, the Daoist arrived carrying torches and also bringing a companion with a basket. When I asked about the basket’s purpose, the Daoist replied, “The magistrate, following instructions from the intendant, has asked that I collect cinnabar and transcendents’ rice (xianmi). Just now, a student found some transcendents’ rice for me, and cinnabar can be found in the cavern, so I will look for it with basket and torch.” Only then did I realize that the granules he meant were not actually cinnabar but granules a bit like cinnabar, which is most valued when white, with yellow ones ranked second—that is why the northern cavern is named White Granule Cavern [Baisha Dong]. What he meant by rice was the water bamboo that grows in the mountain ponds, which the locals dub “transcendents’ rice.”

Then we lit the torches and first entered the south cavern, the walls on both sides rising steeply, tall but not wide. After one-half li, on the left wall, a mark ran crosswise, one rod from the ground—called a “transcendent bed” (xianchuang). By the side was a column hanging down and fractured openings, all short and narrow. The interior of these openings was cup-shaped, like a mortar. I probed it with my hand, and inside, there was a heap of grains, square or round; I gathered them and put them in the basket. We reached into three or four holes in sequence, and the harvest did not amount to a whole pint. Later, when the Daoist took them out and rinsed them of impurities, selecting the round and clean grains, they amounted to only one-tenth of what was gathered. But they were just ordinary pieces of grit—how could they really be leftovers from the Nine Refinements (Jiuzhuan)?⁴⁷

After a further advance, the cleft suddenly plunged into a pool. From the cavern ceiling to the water was two rods in length; I could not tell how deep the water was. The two banks were so steep it was impossible to climb them. Looking southward to the interior, it was impenetrably dark. At first, I urged the Daoist to ford the pond, but he answered:

“When the water is this deep, no one has even managed to cross.”

I urged him to find a raft.

“It is too tight a space,” he said. “Nobody has ever brought a raft in here.”

“Then how can we go farther?”

“You have to wait until winter, when the water recedes, to jump down and walk.”

“Once you go farther, what is it like?”

“It extends very far. You can see, but you cannot climb out.”

Hearing this, I was quite despondent. I threw a stone into the water; it did not immediately reach the bottom. I stood looking at the scene for some time. Then, glancing upward, I noticed a crevice on the left wall, and I hastened to enter. The pillars in the crevice were perforated, and as I entered, it gradually became constricted, and there were no more holes. So then I descended and returned and exited through the intersection.

Lighting a torch, I then entered the east cavern. Initially, the two sides formed walls, but below, they gradually gained in height, and then in the middle, they opened like a hall, and to the sides broke into scepter-shaped cavities, all dark grottoes. After going north a little way, the passage turned east, and the trail ended. Compared to the southern branch, although the cavern winds its way, it is not even half as deep. That one has a hole, but the water blocks it; this one has no water, but the hole is blocked, and I came to feel that the east branch is entirely dry. So I returned to the intersection and planned to visit White Granule Cavern.

According to the Unified and Comprehensive Gazetteer of the Great Ming, White Granule is north of Hook Leak; Hook Leak is first in the world, and White Granule is preeminent of the caverns at Hook Leak. As regards the wet caves, such as Jade Void [Yuxu] and Jade Field [Yutian], and the dry caves, like Pervasive Radiance [Puzhao] and Lone Elegance [Duxiu], the Daoist said nothing—it was only White Granule that he spoke of with great enthusiasm. I quickly proceeded forward while the Daoist led the way, carrying the torches, basket, and broom. From the north, we emerged below the side door, then followed the northwest foothills around, only then to see the two mountains in front and behind standing there; the peak rising prominently to the southwest housed Precious Scepter, while the northeast peak was the one that sheltered White Granule. White Granule also has two entrances, in front and the rear; the front entrance faces north and is tall and spacious, dividing into three apertures, two to either side high up on the rock face, while steps can reach the central one; the rear entrance faces south, tall and narrow, with only a single aperture, its frontage facing the rear of Precious Scepter, its left being the ridge of the central connector. First, we passed the dip by the rear entrance, where grass covered the path; the Daoist did not enter but headed north. After one li, we turned east, skirted the northern foothills, and ascended to the front entrance. Once inside, the path led down, and after dozens of steps, we reached the bottom. I gazed up to the left and right sides of the entrance, and each had a high fissure—the left and right apertures. The falling light illuminated the open areas but could not reach as far as the recesses. Turning right in the cave, the passage was tall and wide, but gradually, it grew dim and petered out. I searched in all directions but found no path that penetrated farther.

Coming out, I told the Daoist to light the torches, and then we reentered, but the torchlight failed to find any other path. Suddenly, the Daoist tossed a torch under the rock face and crawled into the space. The tunnel was no more than a foot high and a foot wide. We went some way, and suddenly the passage opened out, with all kinds of sights arrayed, as though we had opened the door to find heaven and earth connected once more. I looked around; the space extended in all directions, and there were no fissures. Suddenly, I saw another tunnel that went east and south, sometimes opening and sometimes closing, four tunnels altogether, narrow as a pipe.

Then, at the top of the rock face on the left, the word “Cinnabar” was written. Underneath was a cavity, and the Daoist said, “Here is a cinnabar hole.” He bent down and swept up an armful of granules. There was a fork to the south, but it did not go far. I went out and turned to the west and then south to find the sunlight glaring as though bright stars were projecting down; I could see the entry to the rear cavern in the distance. This cavern had a pool inside and was very level; only the wall holes were open, with no channels or spines rising and falling, and the front and rear openings were high up above.

The Daoist wanted to go back through the original entrance, but I wanted to climb up and out through the rear opening. “The back entrance is so tight, it is impossible to climb out,” said the Daoist. “The grass outside is so thick that you will not be able to see where to go.”

“That tight spot in the darkness earlier did not deter me in the slightest, and this hole has light, so I can see how to wriggle through. I am not concerned about the lushness of the grass.”

So I crawled through the hole to find the sun was now overhead, and for the first time, I saw Precious Scepter’s rear peak; a cluster of pine trees blocked the entry. I then pushed aside the thatch grass, trampled thorns, and went out into the valley, passing the side entrance to Precious Scepter. After two li, when I returned to the retreat, I told the porters and the Daoist to cook a meal. Then I pressed another man staying in the retreat to join me in going east to explore Clear Spring [Qingquan], the south-facing cave I had passed earlier. The cave was not deep but bright, clean, and fit for an overnight stay. In front of the cave was a Song dynasty stele, written in large characters: “Clear Spring Cave” (Qingquan Yan). There was no spring to the right or left of the cave, and it was impossible to know why it had this name. I returned to the retreat for lunch.

In the afternoon, I pressed the attendant and a lodger in the retreat to explore the caves in the nearby mountains with me. I do not know where the lodger was from, but he stayed in the retreat; he did not have a penny to his name. He came with me to the caverns, and I gave him food. He left two days later, and I do not know where he went. We went southwest to Granny Huang Cave [Huangpo Yan], a cave formed in a crease among the mountains southwest of Precious Scepter. Its mountain stretches east from Waiting for One’s Husband Rock [Wangfu Shi], and the cave is situated on the northeast corner, opposite Precious Scepter to the east but slightly to the south. The entrance is very high, and Granny Huang Cave is tiered; the summit of the mountain beyond the cave forms a strange shape: one slope is like a woman’s head, hair coiled in a bun, poised as though looking at herself in a mirror. On the north side, there was another cluster of peaks, in line with this mountain, and to the east, opposite Precious Scepter. On the southeast rock face is a large inscription, “Hook Leak Mountain” (Goulou Shan), proportionate in size to the mountain, which locals attribute to a transcendent hand. Below it, there must once have been a palatial edifice, but now there is no way to verify that.

Afterward, I followed the foothills east of Granny Huang Cave, looking eagerly as I walked. I then turned to follow the southern foothills and saw a jagged cliff extending. Although there was an entrance below, the inner passage was not deep, and it was impossible to get through the door and reach the chambers, so I crossed east past the barracks and the retreat and reached the southeast corner of the rear peak.

Here I found a clear stream flowing with a gurgle out of the jumble of rocks. Above, grasses and rocks abounded; below, to the southwest, the spring formed a creek. This is the place where walkers cross. The retreat and barracks drew their water from here, but nobody was interested in where it came from.

As I was planning to investigate the source, a boy suddenly appeared and asked the attendant, “Are you looking for caverns? Above here, there are two, several tens of rods apart. The path is overgrown, but exploring and entering is possible.”

Someone else said, “Yesterday at dusk, two men with a dog came walking from the east. A tiger leaped down from the rocks and carried the dog off. The tiger’s den is up there, so you better not go that way.”

I ignored his warning and pressed the attendant and the lodger to join me in climbing through the thick vegetation, searching for the cave among the vines. Sure enough, we found an entrance facing east, but on the outside, it was hemmed in by creepers, concealed behind rocks, and so not easily spotted. On entering the cavern, we found the ground dropped precipitously. Looking down, we could see a stream running along the bottom. The water gurgled, but the rock face was so sheer that it was impossible to climb down.

Scanning the mountainside, I noticed that the south face dropped precipitously, except in one section. There, a rocky ledge jutted out like a plank walkway perched on the edge of a cliff. No more than eight inches wide, it stretched to the west side, but two posts had been placed halfway along the ledge, like a fence blocking the path, and the outer of the two posts had been removed, leaving just a foot or so of the base left, so it was possible to clamber over it. But the space was even more narrow; one had to grip the inner post with both hands and swing one’s body over the outer post—there could surely be no more hazardous feat than this.

Once we reached the west face, we were opposite the entrance, with the stream in between. We lit torches and shined them on the cavern; below, the rock fell away steeply, just like the outside rock face. When we entered, we saw stalactites in great profusion, sometimes in a circle, like an ornate chamber, sometimes airy, like a winding kiosk—it would be impossible to describe all the hidden wonders there. Then we moved away from the rock face and toward the creek; after jumping down a steep incline, we reached the creek. The water did not quite come up to my knees, surging from the south under the rock face to the north, tumbling over underneath the cliff. I then followed the creek upstream from underneath the south cliff. The entry hole was very low, so I had to duck until just a foot above the water’s surface.

My attendant and the lodger were afraid that the torches would be soaked, making it impossible for us to see where we were going, and they argued against going inside. I threw caution to the winds and waded into the stream as the spray covered my forehead. I proceeded south for several rods and saw ahead a gleam of light. I was delighted; entering another cavern, I shouted at the top of my voice to the two attendants. Although I had to crouch low in the water and found myself knocking against rocks while crawling with my head down, I could still see both in front and behind, the light of the torch and the light from the sky complementing each other, so I kept on going and never stopped. Another few rods to the south, a cavern opened up broadly on either side; above and to the east, there was an opening to the outside, while to the west, there was a huge gulch. My companions had arrived, so I told them to proceed with the torches. Then we followed the stream farther up to the west, and the cavern grew ever taller and wider, and the current ever deeper and broader. After another few rods, I reached a flat rock in the middle of the stream. I climbed up and looked around: the cavern gaped open like a huge mansion, spring water spreading in all directions. With my walking stick, I tested the water depth and could not touch the bottom; shining a torch into the cavern, it was deep and dark. I climbed down and retraced my steps, arriving at a spot below the east-facing opening.

My two attendants lowered their heads and held their torches horizontally as they crawled north toward the low cavern. I stopped them, saying, “Although this exit route is steep, it is no different from our entry path. It would be better to climb up and out this one rather than worming your way along to reach the entrance.”

“If we can’t get anywhere once we’re outside, what do we do then?” they asked.

“Whatever we find outside,” I replied, “we will be somewhere on the mountain. Even if we were to go out the way we came in, it still wouldn’t be easygoing, would it?”

I led the way in climbing up the rock face. The two of them discarded the torches and followed, and we all emerged from the cavern. The door faced east and was adjacent to the entry. It had been obscured by jutting rocks and trailing vines and thus was invisible to us earlier. I proceeded parallel to the left face, and looking up, I saw another level extending like a balcony, but it was impossible to access. I then turned a corner to the north, reaching the earlier opening where the spring emerged. There I bathed my feet leisurely, waiting for the attendants to catch up.

Then we quickly walked from the southeast corner of the mountain, passed the barracks, and after one li arrived at the Hook Leak Retreat amid a heavy downpour of rain. On this day, I first went west in a vain search for the Jade Void and Jade Field caves, then went east and found these two other caverns, which was a marvelous discovery. But had a remarkable individual not pointed them out, I would have missed out on them entirely—how would I have known that next to Big Character Cave [Dazi Yan] on the west peak, there were other caves buried by brambles and hidden by creepers? And how could I have found those vertiginous rocks on the southeast side of Granny Huang Cave to grasp with my hands and tread with my feet?

Second day [19 September]: After breakfast, I told the attendant to go with the Daoist west to Beiliu to buy vegetables and rice while I stayed alone in the retreat to rest. Earlier, the lodger had left at night to avoid the mosquitoes, and I did not know where he had gone. Now he turned up, saying, “After inquiring, I have learned that Lone Spectacle Cave [Dusheng Yan] is north of here.”

I knew there might be other caverns newly discovered to the north, but they would not include Lone Spectacle Cave. But nobody else was in the sanctuary, and I could not go with him immediately, so I told him it would have to wait till the next day. The man then left, and he never came back. At noon, the attendant returned with the supplies. I immediately instructed him to prepare the meal, for I was planning to take brush and inkstone to copy the poems carved on the walls of Precious Scepter Cavern.

Suddenly, the Daoist rushed in. “The Circuit Intendant is coming! He may well be having a meal in the retreat.” He wanted to take my bag and store it in his nest. I ignored him and hurried off to Precious Scepter.

No sooner had I left the retreat than the escorts arrived with banners and pennants. The visitor was not the local administrator of the Yulin Circuit [Yulin Dao] but the intendant of the Lianzhou-Haibei Circuit [Lianzhou Haibei Dao].⁴⁸ He was Zhang Guojing (jinshi 1622), courtesy name Yinliang, of Zhangpu, whom I once met at the Gantang Relay Station [Gantang Yi] along with Huang Daozhou; he was now based in Lianzhou. At this time, Xiong Wencan (d. 1640), the provincial military commander (junmen), had just replaced Lu Xiangshu (1600–1638) of Jing Stream [Jingxi] as supreme commander in Henan on a mission to suppress bandits, and Zhang had gone to see him off.⁴⁹ Zhang was passing through here on his way back, so he wanted to tour Hook Leak. I stayed out of sight behind the west side of the wall and waited till he had entered the retreat, then rushed off to record the cave poems. I had copied less than half of them when he arrived at the cave, so I quickly sought refuge in the upper level of the belvedere on the north fork. I recalled the Wuzhou Gazetteer’s (Wu[zhou] zhi) description of the small west chamber, where the cavern has enough light that one can look out and where there is a natural stone bed, level on a raised platform, where one can sleep or sit; it is situated opposite the east cavern, and the two are like matching armpits. The scene now was just like that. The visitors entered the south cavern, went as far as the water, and then turned back. I lay on the rock for a while and found it a novel experience to listen as the sightseers alternated between making a clamor and falling quiet. After Zhang left the southern cavern, he turned north and came over to the side entrance, but he would never climb as high as the top tier. He and the magistrate pointed and peered, oohing and aahing, never realizing someone was lying on top.

After they left, I resumed copying the poems. All the poems are recent, except for the one on the Song dynasty stele, which was in poor condition, presumably because of damage in some affray. I had just finished copying when the sun went down, so I returned to the retreat.

—Translated by Allan H. Barr

____________________

Source: “Yuexiyou riji er” (YJJZ, 1:457–67; YJ, 1:363–72).

1. 1  The text of Xu’s diary here gives this man’s surname as Huang 黃, but this is incorrect. Other sources give the scholar’s surname as Wang 王, as does Xu Xiake later in his diary. The Wangs were a family of distinction; Wang Qiyuan’s grandfather had passed the jinshi exam, and his father the juren examination. Xu Xiake later left his calling card with Wang Qiyuan’s son. See YJJZ, 1:494; YJ, 1:396.

2. 2  Liu Zongyuan, courtesy name Zihou, served as prefect of Liuzhou during the last five years of his life. Centuries later, he was honored with the posthumous rank of marquis by the Song Emperor Huizong (r. 1100–26).

3. 3  During his time in Guilin, Xu Xiake had bought a copy of Gems of Western Affairs, a miscellany compiled by the Ming scholar-official Wei Jun (jinshi 1604), who held the office of education commissioner (tixue qianshi) in Guangxi during the late Wanli reign period.

4. 4  A line in Liu Zongyuan’s famous poem “Climbing the City Tower at Liuzhou, Sent to the Prefects of Zhang, Ting, Feng and Lian” (Deng Liuzhou chenglou ji Zhang Ting Feng Lian Sizhou Cishi). QTS, 351.3935. See also Collected Works of Liu Zongyuan (Liu Zongyuan ji 柳宗元集) (Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1979), 42.1164.

5. 5  Luo Pond [Luochi], the site of a temple to honor Liu Zongyuan, had been made famous by his friend Han Yu’s stele inscription, reprinted in Liu Zongyuan ji, appendix, 1437–38.

6. 6  Rong County, some 70 mi/112 km north of Liuzhou, is now Rongshui Miao Autonomous Xian.

7. 7  Shagong was a riverside village at the southern end of Rong County.

8. 8  The Three Pure Ones were gods in the Daoist pantheon.

9. 9  Xu Xiake would have read about this feature in Liu Zongyuan’s works. Liu mentions it in one of his essays. See Liu Zongyuan ji, 29.776.

10. 10  Xu Xiake would visit this mountain the following month after his return from Rong County. See YJJZ, 1:494; YJ, 1:396.

11. 11  Liucheng is now a Xian under the jurisdiction of Liuzhou Shi.

12. 12  Jian Stream is in Fujian.

13. 13  YJJZ, 1:479–91; YJ, 1:383–94.

14. 14  A reference to Li Bai’s poem “Question and Answer in the Mountains” (Shanzhong wenda): “You ask why I want to rest among blue mountains, / I smile without answering, my heart at ease. Peach blossom waters flow far into the distance, / Opening into another world.” QTS, 178.1813. Li Bai is sometimes also called the Banished Transcendent or Banished Immortal (Zhexian) in Western language sources on Chinese literature.

15. 15  Xu Xiake includes the full text of Tang Rong’s account in an earlier diary entry. See YJJZ, 1:475; YJ, 1:379. Tang Rong, a native of Lingling in Hunan, had visited these caverns in 1238.

16. 16  In an earlier diary entry, Xu mentioned an inscription by the Song literatus Huang Tingjian on the cavern wall. See YJJZ 1:477; YJ 1:381. He was keen to make an impression of it.

17. 17  The so-called Yuanyou Faction was a group of government officials associated with the Yuanyou reign (1086–94) in the Northern Song dynasty.

18. 18  Han Qi, nickname Zhongxian, was the prime minister under three Song emperors.

19. 19  Zhang Xiaoxiang was a famous poet and politician of the Southern Song dynasty.

20. 20  YJJZ, 1:488–91; YJ, 1:390–94.

21. 21  The Seventh Night fell on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, when the legendary Weaving Maid was thought to reunite with her sweetheart and when women would lay out snacks for the Weaving Maid in a bid to win her blessings. For additional details, see note 20, page 224. The Zhongyuan Festival, associated with honoring ancestors, occurred a few days later, on the fifteenth.

22. 22  Xunzhou is modern-day Guiping Shi.

23. 23  Beiliu today is a county-level city under the administration of Yulin Shi.

24. 24  YJJZ, 1:518; YJ, 1:419.

25. 25  In Daoist religion, the Twelve Golden Transcendents (Shi’er Jin Xian) were venerated, and Guan Yu, the celebrated general of the Three Kingdoms era, was elevated to the status of a deity. “Magistrate Ge” is a reference to the renowned Daoist practitioner, Ge Hong.

26. 26  YJJZ, 1:523–29; YJ, 1:420–28.

27. 27  In Daoist alchemy, cinnabar elixirs undergo nine stages of refinement to achieve the highest purity and efficacy.

28. 28  The Lianzhou-Haibei circuit intendant oversaw administrative affairs in southwest Guangdong province. Lianzhou is today known as Hepu Xian.

29. 29  DMB, 1:562–66. Lu Xiangshu, a native of Yixing, was killed in an engagement with Qing troops later that year.

III

[FALL 1637 AND WINTER 1638]

Although Xu Xiake noted some improvements in Tranquil Hearing’s health on his return to Xunzhou, the monk’s condition appears to have deteriorated. A diary entry dated the seventeenth day of the eighth month, as the travelers were approaching Nanning by boat, notes that Tranquil Hearing was suffering from acute diarrhea throughout the journey.⁵⁰ Almost all the diary entries that Xu Xiake kept during the following weeks have been lost; when we next hear of Tranquil Hearing, he is staying at a monastery on the outskirts of Nanning and is critically ill.

Dingchou year, twenty-second day of the ninth month [8 November 1637]: I went to the Exalted Benevolence Monastery [Chongshan Si] to say goodbye to Tranquil Hearing, then boarded a boat heading for Taiping.⁵¹ I looked after the baggage and told Servant Gu to attend to Tranquil Hearing. That night, at the Celestial Consort Palace [Tianfei Gong] moored the boat next to Jianwu Relay Station [Jianwu Yi].

Twenty-third day [9 November]: The boat did not set off this morning. I recalled how in the Exalted Benevolence Monastery, Tranquil Hearing was fearful that wind would blow through a hole in the window. Although Cloud White had several times promised to fix it, he had not taken any action. Given the boat’s change of schedule, I planned to go to the Liang house and get some money to give Tranquil Hearing so that he could hire someone to do the repair.⁵² The monk Precious Altar (Baotan)had now returned, and he would not mind getting his hands dirty, while the guest monks Wise Meditation (Huichan) and Perfected Lineage (Manzong) would also help rig up a bamboo mat to block the wind—so different from Cloud White!

Tranquil Hearing asked very earnestly that I give him the cloth shoes and Hengyang tea I had bought earlier. I told Tranquil Hearing, “Once you can get up and walk, I will come back and attend to you here—why do you need those things now?” Wise Meditation tried to reason with him several times, but Tranquil Hearing would not let the matter drop.

By now, the boat was soon to leave. I heard that Precious Altar was staying at the Heavenly Peace Monastery [Tianning Si], and I planned to collect the money from Liang and give it all to him, so I said goodbye to Tranquil Hearing and left. Together with the manager of the Liang Inn, I sought out Precious Altar, who generously took on the responsibility of aiding Tranquil Hearing in his hour of need. I then boarded the boat, which now proceeded southwest for four li. It then turned northwest, and after another four li, we moored at Kiln Head [Yaotou].

The sun was still high in the sky, and I kept thinking about Tranquil Hearing’s insistence on getting the shoes and the tea. I interpreted this as meaning that he was still hoping to fully recover and resume the journey to Mount Chicken Foot—he did not want to wait for my return. If I were to come back and not find him here, that was not what I had in mind; if it was anticipated that he was bound to die and I would come back to collect his bones, that was not what he had in mind. It would be better to give him the two things he wanted and then part from him forever, with no second thoughts; that would also allow me to fulfill my aspiration to visit Mount Emei.

So I went ashore and headed east, leaving Kiln Head Village [Yaotou Cun]. After two li, a little stream came from the northwest and turned eastward here, so I crossed it, then followed it east. After another two li, it drained south into the river. Going east one li, I crossed the large bridge west of White Gown Retreat [Baiyi An] and entered Exalted Benevolence Monastery. By now, the sun was low in the sky. I went in and said goodbye to Tranquil Hearing, parting from him forever. I left quickly, crossing the bridge once more, and after five li, I reached Kiln Head. When I boarded the boat, it was too dark to make out any colors…

For the next several days, Xu Xiake traveled southwesterly up the Left River, marveling at the stunning views of the karst mountains. When the boatmen decided to stop for a rest at the village of Nale, Xu took the opportunity to explore.

Twenty-seventh day [13 November 1637]:⁵³ At first cockcrow proceeded southwest from Xining.⁵⁴ We had turned northwest, headed straight for the west peaks, and turned south. After traveling eight li, the rocks on the east bank rose steeply into the sky—a fantastic sight. Then, abruptly, we made a turn, and up ahead, two pinnacles jutted out, with a huge slab connecting them at a lofty height. Below, the mountains gape open as though a sluice gate has been raised; above, the rock arches like a bridge spanning the air—among all the marvels, this is a stupendous spectacle. But I regretted that the boat passed by without me having the chance to climb to the top. Nor were there knowledgeable people whom I could ask. I would guess that these are the formations called Lion Rock [Shishi] and Cave Abode [Dongfu], but I am unsure whether that is right.

One li farther on, a tributary joined the river from the southeast; this is the so-called Surging River [Chongjiang], the source of which is in Zhongzhou.⁵⁵ After we proceeded south another three li, a very sharp-pointed peak appeared on the east bank, and in a round, curving hollow on its north face, I saw a series of west-facing caves, but they were on a perpendicular rock face and had no access path. Another eight li to the southwest, we reached Nale. The wind was right behind us, but the boatmen moored here to have a drink since other men from their town had stopped. So while the boat was tied up, I went ashore to explore the Through Mountain [Chuanshan] and Rhinoceros [Xiniu] Caverns.

Nale, on the river’s east bank, is a bustling village. When I asked about Rhinoceros Cavern, none of the locals knew about it, and they mistakenly pointed southward toward Mu Kiln [Muyao]. So I walked in that direction, threading my way between two peaks. Three li to the southwest I found a stream flowing into the river from the southeast. Its flow was small but strong and babbling. A stone slab had been newly laid across the stream, very stable underfoot. The stream’s source is in Jiangzhou; the locals know it as the Lateral River [Hengjiang]. After crossing the stream, I arrived at Mu Kiln Village [Muyao Cun], where there was a market; to the west, it borders the river. Nobody could answer my inquiries about Rhinoceros Cavern, but I found Big Cavern [Dayan] instead. It lies one li to the south, among a cluster of peaks. The cavern stands halfway up, its entrance facing south. I clambered up the rocks to reach it, and only then did I see the river over to the west. When I entered the cavern and looked through the opening on the other side, I saw a rock face swathed in greenery.

Then I climbed higher in the cavern and squatted on a central ledge. Now, the east and west entrances faced each other, and I could see both at once. Stalactites hung down, forming a dense curtain on both sides. The cavern was lower on the west side and taller on the east, so the entry on the east side is higher than the exit on the west side, and from the outside, you cannot tell that the cavern goes all the way through—it is only after you have entered the cavern that you can see right through to the other side. Looking out through either entry, you see lofty pinnacles that pierce the clouds. The east entry is particularly high, with a sheer rock face both above and below. Rocky crags fill one’s view from north to east, while a deep gorge lies below to the south, opening up a lush green world. To the west, the rock face obscures the entrance to the gorge, and one cannot get a good view.

I then descended and followed the mountain round to the north. After one li, I inquired again at Mu Kiln and was told that Rhinoceros Cavern is at Unicorn Village [Qilin Cun], so I crossed the stone bridge and headed northeast, arriving at Unicorn after three li. This village lies two li east of Nale, so the three villages form a triangle, with Mu Kiln slightly to the south. If the people in Nale had directed me here in the first place, I would not have made that detour to the Big Cavern. In Unicorn, the villagers pointed to a spot on the east peak of the northern mountains and said that is where I would find Rhinoceros Cavern—if I walked one more li, they said, I would see the path.

So I walked on ahead but could see no path. I heard the sound of woodcutting, so brushing aside thorns and clambering over prickly shrubs, I yelled, but there was no answer. Seeing nothing, I went back to the main road. It was now afternoon, and I had told the boatmen I would return by this time. But I put out of my mind the possibility that the boat might set off without me and leave me hungry, for I wanted to find the cavern. However, when I questioned the locals, I could find no one who knew of it. I thought it must be on the north rim of the mountains, so I circled around to the northeast corner, following the main road. After two li, I saw a spur turning to the north and noticed a burn scar. Earlier, the people in Unicorn Village had said: “When you reach the burn scar at the foot of the mountain, that’s where you take the path up to the cavern.” I thought this must be the place, so I rushed ahead as fast as possible, entering a cleft between the hills.

On either side, peaks assembled, and cliffs piled up, but the central path was level and straight, and I saw cart tracks. I followed them for over one li, and there I found four or five carts stopped, with several cattle grazing on the slopes and several men collecting wood by the cliff. I questioned them all, but none knew of a cavern. They had come here from a distant village to graze their cattle and pick up firewood; they would use the carts to carry their haul back home.

After one more li, the valley turned east, and I saw tiered pinnacles in all directions, so sheer that no path was possible; the western cliff was especially steep. As I stood there in uncertainty, a man shouldering bamboo emerged from a deep thicket. I called out to him, but he shook his head.

“You’re going the wrong way,” he said. “Where is the cavern?” I asked. “Come with me,” he said. I followed him out, and when we reached the carts, I questioned him closely. It turned out that he was equally in the dark about the cavern’s whereabouts—he thought there was no way forward for me and so had wanted to guide me out.

So I left him and went back into the notch, reaching the north and east end after two more li. There, the notch doglegged into a hollow, level as a whetstone in the middle, but on all sides cliffs circled and peaks blocked, and given the deep thickets and dense cover, the path could go no farther. Here too some men had left their cattle grazing and gone off to collect firewood, but they knew no more about the cavern than the others had. Having looked without success for a path among the thorny growth, I made my way out of the notch, very dejected. But I observed how this valley penetrated deeply among the mountains, with soaring crags above and no other path in sight—it was a marvelous spectacle in its own right. If one could climb the ridge to the east, I reckoned that there, one would be able to see boats passing on the river beyond. On the east side of the valley, there was a cluster of caves, but the cliffs were sheer and the route impassable, so there was no way to get closer. Though I could not access the very heart of the valley, I was able to map out the general lay of the land, so the trip was not at all a waste of time.

After retracing my steps five li to the southwest, I reached the main road at the north end of Unicorn Village, and as I looked ahead, I saw a burn scar on the other side of the hill. I hurried toward it and saw a little path leading away from the burn area. I headed toward the spot where I had earlier heard wood being cut. The rocks and the vegetation created a barrier, and for a time, I found nothing, but I felt sure I was finally on the right trail. By then it was afternoon, and though hunger was gnawing at me, I did not want to miss this cavern, so I strode on ahead with all the more determination. I clambered up the steep incline, making my way through masses of high grass. On the sheerest parts of the climb, I found rocks to serve as steps, and in the deepest grass, I found footmarks, so I had no need to wonder if I was going the wrong way. The higher I ascended, the farther I could see. Looking west, the land dropped away, with a jumble of rocks straddling the mountain’s crest. Looking east, I saw a ring of peaks and one isolated pinnacle almost as tall as the mountain on which I stood. Only a single path ascended to the north, and after two li, I reached the summit of the high peak, thinking the cavern would be here, only to find that the path continued down the other side. As I descended, I looked down at the northern glen, realizing I had now reached the area of the “tiered pinnacles” I saw when I mistakenly entered the notch. By then I had explored every corner and scaled every height—I had spared no effort in looking for the cavern. But the path was growing ever fainter, and descending westward into a dip, it petered out in a low-lying area of grass and thorns, so densely overgrown that I could not go farther. Although I tramped back and forth for quite some time, I could not find a path. So I crossed back over the high peak to the south, and after two more li, I descended to the burn area, where I saw a path heading toward the canyon to the east between a crack in the rocks. The path headed directly toward the isolated pinnacle, which accorded with the Unicorn villagers’ words. So I realized I had been very close to the path but was confused by the other trails. After making mistakes thrice and returning thrice, I found the right way in the end—surely my devotion to this mountain scenery was now being rewarded!

The sun was gradually going down, so I made haste to climb toward the pinnacle, up very steep steps. After one-half li, I reached the north end, and only then did I realize that the pinnacle sticks out at an angle between the other high peaks, like a single horn protruding—hence the name Rhinoceros. To the north, the crest leads onto another tall peak directly opposite. A huge boulder stands on the crest, like a wild beast blocking the way, acting as a buttress in line with the single horn. In the middle of the boulder is a large, vertical cavity, and a stone block over one rod tall is embedded in the hole. The boulder clasps it on both sides and covers it so snugly that it is as though the hole had to have been chiseled out for the block to be placed inside. The block is a reddish ocher, different from all the other rocks on the mountain. It reminds me of the burial stone at the Yu’s Mausoleum [Yuling], but the block here is all the more remarkable, encased as it is by the boulder. To the east, the crest falls away to a hollow, deep as a crevasse, while above, sharp peaks pierce the sky in a circle so round it could have been drawn with a compass.

Having scaled the ridge, I looked down at the depths. Near the bottom of the rock face to the south is a cavern facing north, its entry tall and wide, its cavity so deep that there was no way of knowing how far it extended. The surrounding cliffs were dense with vegetation, and the valley floor was even more heavily overgrown. I could see paths on the slopes below, but the thick plant cover would make advancing on the valley floor impossible. If one could clear all the obstructions away, then within the circle of pinnacles, the valley would lie flat as the palm of a hand, with the fathomless cavern yawning wide—who would ever turn down the chance to explore the wondrous world that must lie inside?

I had probed the deep and hidden corners to find everything as silent as in remote ages, indifferent to the vulgar world. But my belly was empty, my legs were tired, and the sun was about to set, so I went down the hill and continued west past the north end of Unicorn Village. After two li I arrived back in Nale and boarded the boat where I had left it. By now, the sun had set.

On the twenty-eighth, Xu Xiake resumed his boat journey, arriving on the second day of the tenth month in the bustling river port of Tuopu (known today as Tuolu). Here, for the first time, he became aware of potential obstacles to his smooth passage to Yunnan: reports of Vietnamese incursions into the far west corner of Guangxi raised questions about the viability of the route he had been planning.

Xu Xiake’s servant, Gu Xing, was still ailing, so he stayed behind in the inn in Tuopu while Xu Xiake traveled southwest by road. That afternoon, he stopped just short of the prefectural capital of Taiping (known today as Chongzuo) in the suburb of Huguan.

Fourth day [of the tenth month] [19 November]:⁵⁶… In Huguan, in the past, there were only four or five rooms in the tollhouse quarters that could accommodate travelers. Still, now the old monk Vegetarian Fast (Caizhai) has built the Reflecting Sunglow Clouds Retreat [Yingxia An] nearby, with a tea pavilion in the rear. I arrived at the retreat in the afternoon and stayed there to rest. Vegetarian Fast is a Northerner, sixty-one years old, who has roamed far and wide across the country. He subsists daily on a diet of two bowls of unsalted vegetables and does not eat rice. Seeing this desolate area, he built this retreat especially to receive all and sundry. Several dozen people eat and sleep in the retreat; he does not disrespect them even if they stay long. Vegetarian Fast’s Buddhist name is Pursuant Joy (Ruxi), and his disciple’s name is Ocean Freshening (Hairun).

Fifth day [20 November]:⁵⁷ After breakfast, I crossed over to Homeward Dragon [Guilong], went four li, and followed White Cloud Cliff to the west. On this wild hill, grasses grew everywhere, so tall they came up above my head, blocking my view of distant landmarks. Below, thorns pierced my socks and trousers so that I felt stabbing pains every time I took a step forward, and soon, it was unbearable. After a few more steps, I removed my socks and trousers and examined them carefully for thorns, removing every one before continuing forward. A small stream now flowed down from the canyon to the southeast, draining northward in front of the crags. Above, I was snagged by vines and tendrils, and below, I had to hurdle streams and mud, so progress was very difficult. After crossing the stream, I arrived below the crags.… The ground was thick with briars and vines. I could not find a path, and there was no one to consult. I wandered back and forth, unsure what to do, as morning turned to afternoon.… Ultimately, I kept going west, leaving Homeward Dragon and following the riverbank south.

After three li, I arrived between the two mountains, Golden Cabinet [Jingui] and General’s [Jiangjun]. Golden Cabinet overlooks the river; its empty cave looked big enough to accommodate several hundred people, but dense vegetation made it impossible to access. I circled its north, east, and south faces and twice scaled its summit. Looking down at the river town, I could see it as clearly as my beard and eyebrows in a mirror. To the east stood General’s Mountain, its cliffs and summit facing the river as though stalwartly defending the town. This prominent peak offers the best vantage point for a comprehensive view of the surrounding area.

I descended and waited for a boat to ferry me back across the river, but it was dusk, and no boat came; my stomach was empty. To the north, I spotted a boat crossing to my side, so I clambered over the rocks, and after one li, I reached the dock, only to find that the boat was already on its way back to the other side. After a long wait, I found a fishing boat that took me over. As I walked westward, I saw someone selling bananas, and since I was too hungry to look for a regular meal, I bought a dozen or so bananas and ate them right there, then hurried back to Huguan, for mountain rains were moving in, and the night was falling.

Sixth day [21 November]: I could not decide between the Guishun or Nandan routes.… I went to the Temple of Miss Ban [Banshi Shenmiao] to cast lots to settle the matter.⁵⁸ The temple is outside the big west gate and overlooks the river. This goddess possesses noteworthy occult powers in this prefecture, and all households invoke her protection. Local officials never fail to honor her punctiliously.⁵⁹

After I finished appealing for her guidance, I noticed that several scholars were making an offering in the temple, and I asked them about the road to Guishun. One of the senior scholars offered to write letters on my behalf to the native chieftains whom he knew. I asked him his name and learned that he was Teng Kentang, given name: Zuochang. The youngest of the group was his son, Teng Binwang, given name: Zuo; they lived in front of the battalion headquarters in town. I promised to visit their house, then went back to eat at Reflecting Sunglow Clouds Retreat.

Carrying a torch, I left Huguan and followed the riverbank west. After one li, I reached the north end of the drill ground, then went another li west in search of Azure Cloud Cavern [Biyun Dong]. I went in and out and circled several times before returning to Huguan.

Seeing it was afternoon and reckoning that Teng would now be home, I went into town and knocked on his door. He immediately hailed me as a friend and kept me for drinks. His wine was excellent, rather like Jingkou.⁶⁰ His tea was not as good as Songluo’s, but the wine and tea were better than anything else available here.

As we sat and chatted, Mr. Teng said, “If you want to travel by way of Guishun, the best thing would be if the regional commander issues you a tally. Why not visit him tomorrow morning, along with my son?”

I said I was not up to doing that.

“In that case, could you write him a letter?”

I nodded my assent and arranged to bring a letter the next day, then said goodbye and returned to Huguan.

Seventh day [22 November]: Heavy rain and very chilly. Master Vegetarian Fast, noticing how thin my clothes were, took off his lined jacket and had me put it on. Only then could I go out and expose myself to the wind. After breakfast, Mr. Teng dropped by, and on his departure, I wrote a letter to the regional commander. After lunch, I went to Mr. Teng’s house, but he had gone off on a boat with his son, and as twilight approached, they had still not returned. With the rain starting up again, I could not wait any longer and returned to Huguan. When the rain tapered off, I went west searching for Tiger Cave [Laohu Yan], but though I tramped through marshes and pushed through thickets, I could not find it.

Eighth day [23 November]: Once more, I visited the Tengs, presenting my letter to the regional commander, Zhang Yi, also known as Zhengchen, a native of Shaoxing. Seconded from the Ministry of Revenue (Huke), he is a jinshi of the xinwei year (1631). Teng again had me stay for a meal, netting fish from the pond and picking tangerines from a tree. I thus had the chance to hear the story of his life.… He suggested that I temporarily serve as a tutor here; that way, the scholars in the local school would all contribute to a teaching stipend, which could then serve to cover my travel costs. I politely declined.

By the time I returned to Huguan, it was already dusk. A monk delivered a message from Nanning’s Exalted Benevolence Monastery: Tranquil Hearing had died in the middle of the night on the twenty-eighth day of the previous month. This monk had come personally to inform me about the funeral rites. Tranquil Hearing had died only five days after I said goodbye.⁶¹ To my surprise, Cloud White had not prepared a coffin for him. I did not know who had appropriated the money and clothes left there. I grieved for Tranquil Hearing and did not sleep at all that night.

Ninth day [24 November]: After lunch, I went into town again to wait for the regional commander’s response to my letter. However, the Teng father and son were still keen to have me stay on to tutor the local scholars, so they had not submitted the letter. It had been opened by a tribute student named Fang, recorded, and then taken away. It was quite some time before I got it back. I resealed the letter and asked them to submit it immediately. I could not possibly stay on longer here.

Tenth day [25 November]: After breakfast, we went to look around Rock Gate. Later in the morning, I went to Mr. Teng’s house. I had only just sat down when Teng Binwang came in with an invitation from the regional commander. I thanked him. Then the commander’s adjutant, Tang Yuping of Quanzhou, given name Shangzhu, presented me with the travel tally. I stopped by the commander’s residence, left my card, and dined with the Tengs on my return. The rain would not stop, so I spent the night in the Tengs’ study.

Eleventh day [26 November]: Rain. Ate and rested at the Tengs’ house.

Twelfth day [27 November]: Rain. Ate and rested at the Tengs’ house. The rain eased somewhat at dusk, so I said goodbye and returned to the Reflecting Sunglow Clouds Retreat in Huguan. That night, it rained all the more heavily.

Thirteenth day [28 November]: Confined to Huguan by the rain.

Fourteenth day [29 November]: Pinned down by the rain once more. I wanted to return to Tuopu to collect Gu Xing, but the road was muddy and the grass damp, so it was impossible to make the trip.

Fifteenth day [30 November]: Rain again. Three monks visiting from far away were planning to travel from Huguan to Tuopu, so at last I had a chance to send word to Gu Xing and tell him to engage porters and bring the luggage to Taiping.

Sixteenth day [1 December]: In the night, the rain intensified, and there was no letup at dawn. I slept with my quilt over my head and did not get up until the retreat monk called me for breakfast. After I had eaten, the sky suddenly cleared; again, there was sunshine and shadows. I went for a stroll in the neighborhood, and on my return, I found Gu Xing had arrived. We had been staying in different places for a good ten days, and I was excited to see him. I immediately urged the station attendant to find carriers for us and made plans to leave on the eighteenth.

Seventeenth day [2 December]: Very cold early. I got up and looked outside; the day seemed about to break, but there was redness in the sky, and mist obscured the dawn light. I suspected that there was a solar halo and feared it would rain, and with it being so cold, I pulled the covers over myself and lay down again. Later, a clear blue sky emerged, and the morning sun shone brightly, so I got up and had breakfast. I went to say goodbye to Mr. Teng, but he and his son had gone out, so I returned to Reflecting Sunglow Clouds for lunch. At dusk, I returned to call on the Tengs again, and Mr. Teng had returned. He had me stay for a few drinks and told me he would write letters on my behalf to all the aboriginal subprefectures—he reckoned it would be midnight by the time he finished. I said goodbye and returned to the retreat to sleep.

Carrying the tallies supplied by the regional commander and the letters of introduction provided by Teng Kentang, Xu Xiake set off on the morning of the eighteenth. Concerned that incursions by the Vietnamese might jeopardize his travel if he proceeded toward Yunnan by the most direct westerly route, he took a detour northward to the town of Longying, arriving there on the afternoon of the twenty-third.⁶² Three years earlier, in 1634, Longying had been occupied by forces under the command of the Vietnamese Mạc (Chinese: Mo) lineage based in Cao Bằng (Chinese: Gaoping).

Twenty-fifth day [10 December]:⁶³ Since I was waiting for carriers in Longying, I took the chance to visit Pinnacle Cavern [Piaoyan]. A few li to the north of the subprefectural seat, inside a ring of grassy hills, is a small rocky peak shaped like a brush rack, the anchor mountain of Longying. A level plain lies in front, with a river running through it, Longying’s primary river. Pinnacle Cavern Mountain [Piaoyan Shan] stands east of the river, a very steep and conspicuous peak on the east side of the town. High up on the mountain’s east face is a cavern that faces southeast. It pokes high into the clouds, and below is a perpendicular drop.

I heard that when Longying was raided, the locals fled to a mountain redoubt, and though the Vietnamese surrounded it from below, they could never climb up. I could tell right away that it had to be this mountain. But I could see no path when I looked up from ground level. Without a ladder extending a thousand feet, making the ascent would have been impossible, so I began to walk away, despondent. When I saw some families living beside the main road, I decided to stop and make inquiries.

“That’s Pinnacle Cavern,” they said. “It’s also known as Mountain Cavern [Shanyan]. During those raids by the Vietnamese bandits, it was the key to our survival.”

“How big is it?” I asked.

“There was enough room for all the evacuees,” they said.

“What happens if there is no water?”

“There is a tunnel inside, and if you crawl through to the end, there is water enough for dozens of people.”

“Is there a trail one can take to get up there?” I asked.

Some said there was, but others said it would be very difficult. I persuaded one of them to lead me to the trailhead. Climbing up, I found lengths of bamboo ladder, some dangling loosely next to the rock face, some wedged into cracks between rocks. In all I had to climb fourteen flights of varying lengths, curling upward, before I reached the entrance to the cavern. On either side, the rock face fell steeply, and only beneath the entrance did indentations provide sufficient grip for the ladder. Above the cavern mouth was a pronounced overhang, with many wooden partitions dividing the space into compartments, like a beehive or swallows’ nests. I entered a central cavity; the opening was narrow, but the grotto gradually increased. Stalactites the width of my cupped hands hung like green jade pillars; they gave a resounding bong when I slapped them. Off to one side, another column extended down from the ceiling, immediately above but not quite touching a similar column protruding from the floor; the two faced each other like needles on a balance. Next to the pillars, fences marked off living areas, presumably to allow the locals some space of their own. As I proceeded north, the cavern grew dimmer; where a thin beam of light shone in, the locals had put up a bamboo lattice to close off the passage. When I pushed the lattice aside, I could see the light entering from the east, and looking down, I saw more bamboo and wood frames on a lower level, so I knew there was another entrance somewhere.

I went back out, and to the right of the pillars, I entered a low and narrow cavity to the east, immediately adjacent to the central entryway. I went west through a tight tunnel, which then widened. In the darkness, I ran my hand over the walls; this grotto was not very deep. Then, I exited through the central entrance to the outer cavern. On the left face of the mountain was a wooden walkway suspended over the abyss, with bamboo baskets strewn here and there. At the north end, a piece of wood had been pushed into a chink in the rocks.

There, another cavern opened up. It faced east, and in the middle was a stone slab, standing upright like a stele, three feet tall, one and a half feet wide, and two inches thick. Both sides were scraped flat, as though polished by a human hand—it made me wonder if it could be a relic like Mount Tai’s Wordless Stele (Wuzi Bei).⁶⁴ The dimensions were not the same, however. The interior of the cavern was level, and it gradually widened. At the end, stalactites hung as thin as tree twigs or bamboo canes. To the right was a hole leading toward the central entryway—the narrow passage the locals had closed off with a bamboo lattice. To the left, the cavern sloped downward; a hole yawning over the abyss had been covered with fencing. When I peered down, I could see other bamboo objects and wooden frames at a lower level, but I did not know how to get there.

I crossed the wooden walkway once more and took a ladder down. After going down three flights, to my left on the rock face, I saw another ladder. I grabbed hold and began to climb, crossing the cliff face diagonally toward the north until I reached a narrow path—just a foot wide but over three rods long. The locals had laid pieces of wood along the edge as a balustrade, and I grasped the railing for support—that way, I could walk without fear.

At the end of the cliff, there was yet another cavern facing east. From above and left of the entrance hung a rock, dozens of feet long, like a wing suspended from heaven. At its tip hung a smaller rock, three feet long and a foot in circumference, strikingly similar to the scene at Dragon Snout Stream on Mount Yandang.⁶⁵ But this was the dry winter season, and I could not see a drop of water here. This cavern was tall and spacious, unlike the central grotto, which had a low entrance and was dark inside. By the rear wall, a rock hung down. I explored the cleft, which twisted and turned. The locals had put wooden partitions and bamboo fences inside—this was the area I had glimpsed through the hole on the upper level.

After lingering in each cavern, I climbed the remaining eleven ladder flights. Dozens of people were standing at the bottom, gazing up, and waiting for me to come down—they wanted to show their concern, knowing the rigors of the climb. “We all relied on this mountain to protect us from the Vietnamese,” they told me. “But though it saved our lives, it could not save our houses.”

The cavern served as a refuge for them, but to rely on it as a barrier was not, in my view, a well-thought-out defense strategy. And the water source that they mentioned would easily run dry in these winter months. I had looked for water everywhere but could not find it; if one were stranded inside for any time, would the supply not soon be exhausted? “To be successful in warding off danger,” I said to them, “the best approach is to join forces to repel the enemy—simply going into hiding is a poor idea.”

They nodded in agreement and thanked me for my advice. This cavern stands right above the road, and you can see it from far and near—only when you are in the town of Longying, which faces the other side of the mountain, is the cavern not visible. Of the caverns I have climbed up on this western trip, this one has to count as the steepest and most dangerous. Transcendent’s Cavern [Xianyan] by Gui Stream [Guixi] also has an impressive view, but it lacks the spaciousness of this cavern, although its water supply is superior.

I went back to the inn to eat. There, I found that the manager had only just picked up a tally to assemble carriers, so once again, it was not possible to get on the road.

Xu Xiake left Longying the following day, carried in a sedan chair. After an overnight stop at the village of Ancun, he arrived in the subprefecture of Xialei on the afternoon of the twenty-seventh, closer to the border with Vietnam and rife with rumors about Vietnamese troop movements.⁶⁶

Twenty-eighth day [13 December]:⁶⁷ Heavy fog. In the middle of the night, I dreamed that a wall had collapsed on top of me, and I found this very disturbing. What’s more, I heard that south of Guishun Mạc raiding parties are active, and north of Guishun roadblocks have been put in place by Guichao supporters.⁶⁸ I was now increasingly inclined to turn back. But, alarmed and confused, I had not yet decided.

Guichao lies between Fuzhou and Guishun and is at loggerheads with both, often abducting travelers and making the road impassable.⁶⁹ It was not mentioned when I looked it up in the Unified and Comprehensive Gazetteer of the Great Ming. Someone told me that the chief of Guichao was once in charge of Fuzhou, but later, Fuzhou received imperial favor, and Guichao found itself in the shade and ended up under Fuzhou’s thumb, so now they are hostile to each other. I do not know if that is true or not.

A five-rod-high monolith stands by the narrow north gate of Xialei on the riverbank. I climbed several stone steps until I reached the top, level as a terrace and one and a half rods across. A pavilion has been erected there, with a statue of Avalokiteśvara inside; the clear river is visible below, with green mountains on each side. On the wall is a poem by Zhang Yun of Nanhai and a prose record by Wu Wenguang of Putian, both written in graceful calligraphy.

Because my route ahead faced so many obstacles, I wanted to appeal to the bodhisattva for advice on my itinerary. Here, it was impossible to get tally verses, so instead, I proposed a pact using divination blocks: if I were to have a smooth journey without difficulties, the three throws would end up with both blocks landing flat or one on the flat side or one on the curved side, never both blocks on the curved side; if I would run into some minor obstacles but not face life-threatening dangers, in one throw both blocks would land on the curved side; if I were to face mortal perils and would be unable to make progress, in two throws both blocks would land on the curved side. In the first round, the result was one instance of two curves, one instance of two flats, and one instance of one flat and one curved. When I appealed for a second judgment, the divination rendered one mixed and two flat. After returning to the hostel, I had Servant Gu go and implore Avalokiteśvara’s guidance again, regarding the same questions. The first time, he got one of each result, and his second solicitation also produced one curved and one flat; the outcome was much the same as when I prayed earlier for an answer. It seems there will be an obstruction, but I cannot tell whether or not I can avoid a major disaster.⁷⁰

In the morning, the fog cleared, and the sun came out. I waited for carriers and breakfast, but neither came. After a long time, I was served a meal, and then I took a stroll in front of the government offices and climbed the gate tower. Inside was a bell cast by the native official Xŭ Yinggui in the nineteenth year of the Wanli reign (1591). On it were inscribed the following words:

Xialei is an ancient subprefecture of the Song and Yuan. Still, at the beginning of our dynasty, a jealous prefecture—a reference to Zhen’an—hid its insignia and refused to hand it over so that it did not receive imperial recognition and fell under native control for two hundred years. My father, Xŭ Zongyin, embarked on punitive expeditions, repeatedly winning commendations, so I submitted a memorial and asked to establish a subprefecture again.

Now I realize that this subprefecture dates only from the Wanli era, so it is natural that it is not mentioned in the Comprehensive Gazetteer.

Beyond the town’s south wall, mountains rise steeply. A road running through a valley to the southwest reaches, after thirty li, the border with Cao Bằng. The road going southeast through the valley follows the river to Anping and is the old road to Nineteen Ridges [Shijiu Geng]. Anping is now worried that the road will allow free passage to the Vietnamese, so it has felled trees and built barricades.…

This was market day in Xialei; I saw men with their hair hanging loose for the first time. I inquired about news of the Vietnamese advance on Zhen’an and was told that they had made no move. This sounds right because Tianzhou, seeking support in its conflict with Zhen’an, induced the Vietnamese to come by promising them young women, horses, and money.⁷¹ Earlier, Zhen’an and Wang Da of Guishun joined forces in opposing Tianzhou, wounding dozens of Tianzhou troops, so Tianzhou resorted to bribing the Vietnamese to come to its aid. But the Vietnamese are very cunning: they have pitched camp near Zhen’an, demanding supplies and pocketing gifts, sitting back and waiting to see which side wins so they can reap the spoils. They decline to take any prompt action.

Shortly before noon, the carriers arrived, and Xu set off, reaching Hurun five miles northwest that afternoon. On his arrival at the post station, he was told that Vietnamese were continuing to be seen on the roads, and he was warned not to go any farther toward Yunnan.

Thirtieth day [15 December]:⁷² It was extremely cold in the morning. The early fog cleared away, but the carriers failed to show up, I think because the post station manager here in Hurun was very deceitful; he did not want me to go to Guishun because Guishun is so far away, and several times tried to scare me by stressing that the road there is teeming with Vietnamese. The native official in charge of Hurun, surnamed Cen, is the village chief. Because he is so close to the Vietnamese, he identifies only with them, not China. When they pass through, he gives them generous gifts, but to China he is indifferent. The Vietnamese likewise give this village preferential treatment and do not cause trouble here. Misled by the inn manager and fearful that my nightmare might come true this morning, I asked heaven to offer guidance on three possible itineraries: to aim for Guishun, to return to Xialei, or to head toward Xiangwu.⁷³ Appealing to heaven, I drew my lot, and the answer turned out to be Xiangwu. The manager also favored me going to Xiangwu, for Guishun would require long-distance carriers. In contrast, on the way to Xiangwu, carriers could be replaced regularly as I traveled from one village to another.

In the afternoon, carriers arrived, but there were only eight of them—two short. They had not brought vegetables and rice, so I realized they were short-distance carriers. I had no other options, so I went along with it.

They proceeded northeastward through the rough terrain for some distance.

A stony mountain, densely covered with vines and trees, stuck out on the north bank of the stream. Below it, the road wound its way past streams and ponds. When I looked upward to the north and south, I saw many tall, green hills, but the mountain’s peak to the north protruded sharply, exposing its jagged bones. Progress was difficult with this stony mountain in our way, rising crookedly layer upon layer. But on both sides, trees had been trimmed, and grass had been cut back, opening a broad path. Only now did I realize that this was the road from Hurun to Zhen’an—and the Vietnamese had widened it as they passed through. Wanting to keep out of their way, I had decided against going to Guishun, but now I had ended up on the road they would take—how I resented being misled by the inn manager!

Following the stony mountain, we went one li to the northeast, and I saw an old man gathering firewood by the side of the road. The carriers exchanged words with him, and he accompanied us as we proceeded. After one-half li, trees arched across the stream, and we crossed a bridge, arriving at South Mound Village [Nanlong Cun]. There were a few houses on the south bank. The carriers carried my chair to the old man’s house and signaled they were leaving. I wanted them to stay, but the old man said: “My village ought to see you on farther, I know, but it’s getting late now, so why not rest and wait until the morning? The men don’t need to stay.” I had no option but to let them go.

At the time, there was still enough sunlight to travel a few more li, but having accepted the old man’s advice, I joined him in his living quarters, where he boiled eggs and served me rice-water.

When I asked him his age, it turned out he was ninety.

Then I asked him how many sons he had. “Seven altogether,” he said. “The first four have passed away, but the other three are still living.”

The mother of the seven sons was the old woman tending the fire and warming the rice water; she and her husband were devoted helpmates. How remarkable to find such a long-lived couple in a desolate, remote border region like this!

I could not understand what the other villagers said—the old man was the only person who could speak the Han language. He did not wear his hair loose or go barefoot—between Xialei and Hurun, half the men I saw did not tie their hair, nor did he consume tobacco or betel nuts. He also was unaware that in towns like Taiping and Nanning, the central government appointed officials for limited terms only. “On the sixteenth, the Vietnamese came this way,” the old man said. “They had been in Luo Cavern en route to Zhen’an. I went to the mountains to avoid them, but they left the area without causing any disturbance.”

First day of the eleventh month [16 December]: There was fog early in the morning, but it was very beautiful when the sun came out. We proceeded northeast from South Mound and after one li crossed the stream. After advancing along the north bank for two li, I saw that the stream had its source in a waterfall on the southeastern hills. An enormous rock, several scores of rods high and over ten rods wide, stretched across the canyon like a dam, and the surging water, roaring like thunder and with the power of an avalanche, was extremely impressive—the first time I had seen something like this since I had arrived in the southwest. The falling waters formed a stream that flowed to the southwest, while the road followed a small stream running northeast. After one li, the valley ended, and we ascended a ridge.

After another li, we arrived at the summit, where we ran into a dozen or so Vietnamese, half of whom carried spears with bright red shafts while the other half were shouldering muskets. They had bamboo hats slung over their backs, wore loose hair, and walked barefoot; they carried no additional supplies. They looked at me as they passed, and I glanced at them. They exchanged words with the sedan chair carriers and claimed they were heading home after attacking Zhen’an. But I suspect this was an idle boast. After another one-half li, we encountered another six or seven Vietnamese, armed in the same way; I do not know where the main body of their forces are.…

On the third day of the eleventh month (18 December), Xu Xiake arrived in Xiangwu and put up in the post station for the night. Once more, Xu Xiake initially found his reception chilly; no food was provided, and the station manager ignored Teng’s letter of introduction to the subprefect, Huang Shaolun. In the middle of the night, it began to rain.

Fourth day [19 December]:⁷⁴ Waited for porters in the post station as rain pelted down the whole day. I wrote a poem to give to Huang and visited adjutants Hu and Xie. Both natives of Guichi, they casually kept the poem to pass on to Hu for me.

Fifth day [20 December]: Very cold; the sky partially cleared in the morning. Porters arrived, but only six. One Zhou Bingquan, a native of importance, saw my poem and immediately took it to pass on to the subprefect. He also instructed the porters to leave and asked me to stay a bit longer. In the afternoon, Huang sent me a letter, along with vegetables, rice, wine, and meat. At dusk, he matched my poem and sent me a letter along with it.

Sixth day [21 December]: The sky had cleared when I rose at dawn. After breakfast, I received a letter from Zhou Shangwu, courtesy name Wentao, asking me to stay on. I declined, explaining that I would set off as soon as the porters arrived. Time passed, and the porters still did not show up. So I walked north one-half li, looking for the large stream, Withered Banyan River [Kurong Jiang]. I followed its tributary east, and a peak rose roundly like Lone Elegance, with caves in three levels facing west and jutting out. I descended the lower cavern, which is five rods deep, and found very full and refreshing side chambers. But it was impossible to access the upper caverns. I gazed up at them: unless one had a long ladder, they would be impossible to access.

After exiting the cavern, I skirted the northern and eastern foothills for one-half li, and after a walk of one li, I returned to the residence. By then, porters had arrived, and I wanted to set off. Zhou Wentao arrived, sat down, and urged me to stay; he also prodded his secretary, Liang Wenhuan, to collect a gift to support my travel expenses. So I wrote a letter of thanks to Huang.

Packing the bags, I shouted to the porters to hurry up and leave. But when I finished eating, they all scattered, and no one was left. When I shouted at them to leave, I was urging them to get ready to set off, but they misunderstood, thinking I was telling them to disperse. After the meal, I told Servant Gu to go to their homes and rustle them up, but they had all gone into the mountains to collect firewood, so we set the departure date for the following day instead. I took a stroll in the surrounding hills.

At dusk, I returned to the post station, and suddenly, a man arrived and greeted me deferentially—he had come at Mr. Huang’s bidding to ask me to stay. He issued this invitation very earnestly, but I declined—given how eager I am to visit the famous mountains—and said I could not linger; I asked him to convey my tactful apology. No sooner did he leave than Xie and Hu each came to visit—their superior had asked them to make sure I stayed—and the other emissary made several trips back and forth. Then Zhou Wentao and a big chief named Wei paid a call on me, restating with great sincerity Mr. Huang’s wish that I delay my departure. Once more, emphatically, I declined. At nightfall, Mr. Huang sent a consignment of wine, rice, vegetables, and meat and a handwritten letter imploring me to stay and looking forward to an early meeting. He had accorded me great respect in words and deeds, and I went to bed unsure how to proceed.

Seventh day [22 December]: The early cold chilled to the bone—even the worst cold in my home district is not more severe than this. Dawn had just broken when Mr. Huang again sent a chicken, some meat, and rice and wine, so I got up and wrote a thank-you letter, agreeing to stay on a few more days. Today was particularly bright and clear, and it was a market day once more in front of the government office, so I gave the live hen to a monk, bought bananas, and cooked the meat, washing it down with wine until I was tipsy.

Eighth day [23 December]: In the morning, Zhou Wentao delivered another letter from Mr. Huang and gave me coins to cover expenses during my stay; he invited me to visit that afternoon. It seems that the native officials turn night into day and do not rise and bathe until afternoon. In the afternoon, Wentao returned and conducted me to the rear quarters, where I was honored, and Mr. Huang and I regretted not meeting earlier. He is now fifty-five, three years older than me. Initially, he urged me to stay on longer, but I declined strenuously, given my dedication to touring. He then said:

He said, “I understand your lofty goals, and given your unwillingness to suffer confinement, how could this thorny thicket be a place for a phoenix to perch? It’s simply that there are many obstacles on the road, and I fear it may be difficult to proceed. Just now, a messenger from Guishun arrived. I want him to take a letter and guide you and also carry a letter to Guichao—that way, you can make the trip successfully.”

The official in charge of Hurun is his son-in-law, who had also agreed to send a letter of introduction. So it was arranged that I would leave one day later, accompanied by the Guishun messenger. Then we engaged in a “hand conversation,” and each of us won a game and lost a game.⁷⁵

After that, I took Huang Daozhou’s stone carving and Wen Zhenmeng’s handwritten letter out of my bag and showed them to him while Mr. Huang took me to inspect his promotion plaque. On it was written, “Imperially Awarded,” and the notation, “Presented on the fifteenth day of the tenth month of the eighth year of the Chongzhen reign to mark the appointment of Huang Shaolun, subprefect of Xiangwu, as assistant regional commander.” The newly framed plaque had been hung on a high crossbeam and was protected with several mat layers; at Huang’s instruction, the mats were removed so I could view the plaque.

It was a long time before I returned to the residence, and the sun was about to set. Wentao once more arrived with a letter from Mr. Huang, this time thanking me for the visit.

Tenth day [25 December]: The weather was bright and beautiful. Before the sun rose, it was very cold, but after the sun was up, it became pleasant. The night before, I met the Guishun messenger, Liu Guanghan, who told me, “The roads to Guichao and Fuzhou are both blocked, and the Vietnamese are very unpredictable.” He advised me not to go that way.

I was unsure what to do, and again, I cast lots before Buddha. Once more, the indication was that the route via Nandan and Dushan was propitious.⁷⁶

At noon, Zhou Wentao delivered advice from Mr. Huang, “If you’re not traveling to Guishun and Guichao, I can write letters instead to Tianzhou and Sicheng, and you can head in that direction.”⁷⁷ I was uncomfortable going to Tianzhou, and Wentao also said it was not a safe road, so I decided to take the easterly route.

It was a market day once more, so of the Song dynasty coins that Mr. Huang had given me, I kept one from each reign period, and with the remainder, I bought cloth with which to wrap my feet, fish and meat, and a large knotweed root.⁷⁸ At dusk, Mr. Huang sent me gifts: a silk shirt, a hat, and a raw silk skirt.

Having given up on traveling directly west into Yunnan, Xu Xiake was now resolved to return to Nanning, then travel north to Guizhou, and from there into Yunnan. On this day, Xu Xiake was carried in a sedan chair from Zhenyuan east to Jielun Subprefecture, a distance of twenty li.⁷⁹

Twentieth day [4 January 1638]:⁸⁰.… The aborigines regularly tie up travelers and sell them off to the Vietnamese. Healthy adults can fetch thirty taels; young and old cost at least ten. Jielun and the other aboriginal subprefectures in this area are some distance from Vietnamese territory, so the captives are resold several times before they are delivered to the final purchasers. When appeals for their return are submitted to the authorities, recovery of the victims is likewise an involved process, and fewer than two or three out of ten ever make it back. The rule is that seven must be returned for every person kidnapped and sold, but that is not what happens. In the aboriginal jurisdictions, revenge killings often stem from these incidents.…

Twenty-first day [5 January]: A dense cloud enveloped the village; no fog. Having waited in vain for carriers, I strolled over the hills on the east side after breakfast. I came upon an ancient plum tree, its blossoms bright, dense, and powerfully scented. I lingered there, reluctant to leave, and broke off two eye-catching sprays with crooked stems and exquisite blooms.

Gazing south, I glimpsed a cavern on the hillside, almost hidden among the bamboo. I made my way over, brushing the vegetation aside. Entering through a narrow opening, I found that the cavern divided into two branches, neither of which extended very far.

When I returned to the post station, I looked for a fire to roast the plum sprays. As a light drizzle fell outside, I sat sipping a cup of village tipple and savoring the sweet smoke, almost forgetting that it was the end of the year and I was at the edge of the earth.

On the afternoon of the twenty-second (6 January), Xu Xiake arrived in the village of Nayin, hoping to travel east to Dujie Subprefecture the following day.⁸¹

Twenty-third day [7 January]:⁸² Mist covered the land early in the morning. After I had breakfast, the sun had risen in the east. I asked the porters to hurry up, but once more, they wanted to follow a route through the col to the northeast. I had first inquired about the route to Dujie and was told it was over the ridge to the east. I took this to mean that the porters wanted to avoid the long road to Dujie and instead take a route that would lead through villages where other men could replace them as porters. If we were to go first in the direction of Guohua, there would be villagers to take over from them, whereas going southeast toward Dujie, there would be no such option. And so, the Nayin porters refused to head southeast. After a long deadlock, one man came forward with a proposal: we could go east to Dunlong, although that would be a somewhat roundabout route requiring a further change of porters. I had no choice but to accept this suggestion. We went northeast into the col, and after one-half li, I came across the stream encountered earlier that flowed from the southwest. Then we proceeded eastward.…

As it turned out, however, when he got to the village of Tunlong, the locals, fearing that porterage to Dujie would be too onerous an assignment, flat-out refused to cooperate, and the following day, Xu Xiake would have to go back the same way he had come.

… At noon that day, the locals provided squirrel for my meal, and I waved it away. It was replaced with a small, smoked, quail-like bird; it was stir-fried. The alcohol supplied, whether distilled spirits or rice liquor, is all drinkable. There is also rice wine, cloudy and sweet, which is sold in the markets but seldom in the villages.

Xu Xiake finally arrived in the town of Dujie, seventy miles northwest of Nanning, on the twenty-seventh day of the eleventh month of the dingchou year (11 January). It was his birthday, and after several frustrating experiences during the previous few days, he went to bed that night lamenting his continuing bad luck, for the manager of the Dujie post station was uncouth and far from hospitable.

Twenty-eighth day [12 January]:⁸³ I rose early. Very cold; the sky was clear. The manager did not serve breakfast, and it was well into the morning before I was given two bowls of brown rice with no vegetables to go with them. I asked the manager to give my name card to the magistrate, but he delivered it only very reluctantly. In the early afternoon, suddenly, the card was returned to me with an official tally and a message: “Since you are an educated man, please show me one of your compositions.” I told the manager I had no prose essay available and gave him a poem instead. Off he went with the card.

Time passed, and eventually, he returned with a name card, on which was written a topic: “The man of virtue is bound to have words; the man of words.…”⁸⁴ What a tedious rigmarole! Leaning on a pannier and grinding my ink, without much thought I composed an essay on the back of the card and gave it to the man. Off he went once more, and it was not until late afternoon that a message came back authorizing the provision of chicken and wine, rice and meat. At the same time, I was given a second writing assignment: “Zilu stood, one hand cupped in the other. He was invited to stay for the night.”⁸⁵ Again, I asked for a lamp and dashed something off at the bottom of the card. Then I had dinner, which now included a beef dish, and went to lie down. I was already in bed when somebody informed me that arrangements had been made for a horse ride to outlying areas the following morning, and the station manager was instructed to prepare an early breakfast for me.

Twenty-ninth day [13 January]: It was cold early, but the sunrise was beautiful. Two horses had been brought over when I got up and ate breakfast. One was for me and the other was for He Dongxuan, a tribute student of Taiping Prefecture. We rode east with the other horsemen and were joined by three riders coming up from the south, the first of whom was Mr. Nong, chief of Dujie Subprefecture. With clasped hands, we all saluted each other on horseback and headed east. After three li, we crossed a stream, and after another two li, we followed the stream into a canyon. We proceeded east another five li, arriving at a very steep ridge on the northeast side. “We can make it across on our horses,” said Mr. Nong, “there’s no need to dismount.” His steed leaped over the rocky terrain with the verve of a roaming dragon.

After we had scaled the ridge for two li, several native settlements came into view, and we reached the village of Nalin, which has several dozen dwellings, all on stilts, with thatched roofs, set apart at some distance from each other. Proceeding east another two li, we came to an even steeper ridge, and after traversing it for two li and riding one li farther, we advanced through a level col until we reached an east-flowing stream. We turned slightly to the north, and stretching over two rods to the south was a confluence of streams marked off as a fishpond in a place called Xiang Village [Xiangcun]. A thatched canopy had been laid over a wooden frame, with mats on the ground below.

The Dong men now raised their nets and tossed them into the stream, hauling out several fish—all carp and perch—the largest of which was just a foot and a half long.⁸⁶ After driving several dozen cattle into the stream to stamp and splash around, the locals cast their nets again and caught another few fish; some were no fatter than a finger. Then they chopped the biggest fish into pieces and put them in a large bowl, dressing them with spring onions, shredded ginger, salt, and vinegar, and ate the fish just like that, considering it a great delicacy. I could not follow their example, so I ate meat and sipped wine. By the time the meal was over, the sun was in the west, so we rode five li back to the village of Nalin, where we gathered under a thatched pavilion. The family slaughtered a pig and some hens, offering a sacrifice to the gods before the dinner, where chopped raw fish was served once more. At dusk, we rode the ten or so li back to Dujie. I said goodbye to Nong and retired to the post station for the night.

Thirtieth day [14 January]: Beautiful sunshine and somewhat less cold. I composed two poems titled “Sightseeing on Horseback” (Qiyou) and presented them to Nong. A Nanning student named Zhu came over, carrying an essay on yesterday’s topic in his sleeve. He had called on me when I was in Xiang Village, and on our return to Dujie, the magistrate had asked him to write this piece. Glancing over his work, I found it utterly incoherent, but Student He was so undiscriminating as to think it excellent. I passed it on to Nong, who could easily discern its weaknesses, and he soon sent me a message: “The Nanning student’s essay is a slipshod piece of work. If I were to show him what you wrote, he would scurry away in panic.” Then we embarked on a game of Go. At dusk, Nong hosted an elaborate dinner in which he asked that I compose a report in response to his clansman Guohu’s accusations so that he could clarify matters for the regional inspectors. Thus, he prevailed on me to stay on an extra day.

First day of the twelfth month [15 January]: Spent the day at the post station in Dujie. When I rose in the morning, the landscape was wreathed in low clouds. I would have liked to get going, but the local magistrate, Nong Guoqi, had insisted I stay to write the report for the regional inspectors—at this time, Guoqi was being sued by his cousin Guohu in an inheritance dispute.⁸⁷ As twilight fell, the clouds had yet to lift. At dinnertime, finally, Nong gave me a monetary gift to support my travel expenses.

On 24 January, Xu Xiake finally returned to Nanning. He immediately proceeded to Exalted Benevolence Monastery, where Tranquil Hearing had died three months earlier.

Tenth day [24 January]:⁸⁸ … I went into the monastery to inquire about Tranquil Hearing’s final parting. He had passed away in the early evening of the twenty-fourth day of the ninth month, just one day after I left. A monk led me to the site where his remains were buried, halfway up the stream, near the east end of the wooden bridge. I cried as I respectfully bowed to him. When I turned around and looked south toward the bridge, Servant Gu and two porters were approaching. I arranged a meeting with the monk again, then quickly headed to Liang Inn to lodge for the night. It was only midday, but rain was coming down heavily and showed no sign of stopping. After eating, I took a walk to put some questions to traveling merchants from Yunnan and Guizhou who might be staying at the home of Xiong Shihu.⁸⁹ A merchant from Guiyang had just left, and at that time, no one else was expected at the inn. My feet were sore, so I went shopping for medicine, sandals, and socks. I then returned to the inn.…

—Translated by Allan H. Barr

____________________

Source: “Yuexiyou riji san” (YJJZ, 1:555–56; YJ, 1:451–52).

1. 1  Nanning was then a prefecture, with its administrative center in Xuanhua County; it is now Nanning Shi, the capital of the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region.

2. 2  Taiping, then a prefecture, is now a Zhen in Chongzuo Shi. Xu Xiake’s boat to Taiping traveled on the Zuojiang, or Left River [Zuojiang].

3. 3  The Liang house appears to be an inn run by Liang Zhongyu, who is also referred to below as “Liang” or “Landlord Liang” (Liang Zhuren).

4. 4  YJJZ, 1:561–63; YJ, 1:456–59.

5. 5  Xining is today known as Fusui Xian.

6. 6  Zhongzhou is now Dongmen Zhen, under the jurisdiction of Fusui Xian.

7. 7  YJJZ, 1:571–72; YJ, 1:464.

8. 8  YJJZ, 1:573–80; YJ, 1:466–70.

9. 9  By the Guishun route, Xu meant the most direct route to Yunnan, westward through Guishun Subprefecture. The route through Nandan in northern Guangxi would involve traveling through Guizhou Province to reach Yunnan.

10. 10  The cult surrounding Miss Ban continued into the Qing, attracting the notice of Liang Zhangju (1775–1849), who served as governor of Guangxi from 1836 to 1841. He included a poem on the topic in his Sanguan shihua 三館詩話 (Nanning: Guangxi Renmin Chubanshe, 1996), B.105.

11. 11  The merits of wine from Jingkou [Zhenjiang] have been praised since at least the Song dynasty.

12. 12  A later diary entry, written on the tenth day of the lunar twelfth month—after Xu’s return to Nanning, gives the date of Tranquil Hearing’s death as the day following their final farewell. NP, 33, follows this as the day Tranquil Hearing passed away (10 November 1637).

13. 13  In Ming times, Longying was a subprefecture under the jurisdiction of Taiping Prefecture. Its administrative center was located in what is now Longming Zhen, in the southwest corner of Tiandeng Xian.

14. 14  YJJZ, 1:590–92; YJ, 1:480–82.

15. 15  A stone column on the summit of Mount Tai in Shandong, the Wordless Stele was commonly assumed to date from the Qin dynasty.

16. 16  Xu Xiake mentions this feature on his first visit to Mount Yandang. See diary entry for 31 May, this volume.

17. 17  Xialei, then a subprefecture, is now a Zhen in Daxin Xian.

18. 18  YJJZ, 1:595–96; YJ, 1:485–86.

19. 19  Guichao is now Guichao Zhen, in Funing Xian, Yunnan, just across the boundary with Guangxi.

20. 20  Fuzhou is modern Funing Xian in Yunnan. Most of Funing lies to the west of Guichao.

21. 21  On occasion, Xu Xiake was in the habit of seeking guidance from divine authority when planning his route. For the earliest example, in Jiangxi, see YJJZ, 1:233; YJ, 1:167. For another, in Hunan, see YJJZ, 1:280; YJ, 1:207.

22. 22  Zhen’an (modern Napo Xian) lay to the north of Guishun; Tianzhou (modern Tianyang Qu in Baise Shi) bordered Zhen’an to the north. Both were under the control of native chiefs.

23. 23  YJJZ, 1:597–602; YJ, 1:489–90.

24. 24  Xiangwu (modern-day Xiangdu Zhen) was in the northwest corner of what is now Tiandeng Xian. To reach Xiangwu, Xu must make his way northeast from Hurun.

25. 25  YJJZ, 1:605–09; YJ, 1:494–98.

26. 26  “Hand conversation” referred to the game of Go, weiqi in Chinese.

27. 27  Nandan is in northern Guangxi, and Dushan is immediately to the north, in Guizhou.

28. 28  Sicheng Subprefecture, now Lingyun Xian, was northwest of Tianzhou, bordering Guizhou to the north.

29. 29  The dried root of knotweed (heshouwu) was believed to have important health benefits. It seems to have been widely available in the Guangxi highlands at a low price. Xu Xiake stocked up with fifteen catties of knotweed root in Xiangwu. See YJJZ, 1:638; YJ, 1:523.

30. 30  Jielun Subprefecture is now Jinjie Zhen, in the northeast corner of Tiandeng Xian.

31. 31  YJJZ, 1:622–25; YJ, 1:509–10.

32. 32  Dujie Subprefecture is now Dujie Xiang, on the west side of Long’an Xian.

33. 33  YJJZ, 1:626–27; YJ, 1:512–13.

34. 34   YJJZ, 1:631–34; YJ, 1:517–19.

35. 35  Quoting the Analects, 14.4.

36. 36  Quoting the Analects, 18.7.

37. 37  “Dong men” in the original text is dongding 侗丁, a reference to the Dong (or Kam) ethnic group that populated many parts of Guangxi and areas in neighboring Hunan and Guizhou during this period.

38. 38  The chieftainship of Dujie was a hereditary office enjoyed by the Nong family since the beginning of the Ming period; Nong Guoqi belonged to the fourteenth generation of chiefs. It seems that a rival had contested his right to inherit the title.

39. 39  YJJZ, 1:643; YJ, 1.529.

40. 40  Traveling merchants were good sources of information concerning road conditions, bridges, river travel, and possible sites to visit.

IV

[WINTER AND SPRING 1638]

Dingchou year, eleventh day of the twelfth month [25 January]: Rain during the night lasted until dawn. I have been suffering from sores, and I got up late. But the sores gave me chills, and I was exhausted, so I was not at all comfortable. I had not decided which road to take. I had heard that Tranquil Hearing’s last words were that his bones must be interred on Mount Chicken Foot, and I had heard that taking his remains would be very difficult. This made me anxious and uneasy. I then drew two lots and asked for guidance before the image of Buddha in the Heavenly Peace Monastery; the advice was to “take his bones.” So, braving the rain, I hurried to the Exalted Benevolence Monastery, where I turned over the money to the monk Precious Altar and had him cook some vegetarian dishes in preparation for the next day’s exhumation. When I reached the Liang Family Inn that evening, it was still raining.

Twelfth day [26 January]: The rain did not let up until after noontime. I bought some incense and candles, then hurried to the Exalted Benevolence Monastery. But the two monks, Precious Altar and Cloud White, wanted to divide between them the sutras and cassocks left behind by Tranquil Hearing. They had secretly held discussions at the Liang Family Inn, and to absolve themselves of responsibility, they argued that nothing could be agreed upon until Liang joined us. But Liang stubbornly refused to come. I appealed to them all again and again, going back and forth multiple times, but the three scoundrels all made excuses, none willing to give way. When I sat down and pressed them, they again held private confabs that went on forever. I did not understand why they had to engage in such underhand dealings, but I could do nothing about it. All I could do was implore them day and night, but they just took turns attacking me in abusive language.

Thirteenth day [27 January]: I got up at dawn and implored Liang to make a trip to Exalted Benevolence Monastery, but he refused to go. I then wrote an affidavit describing what had happened and implored Liang to serve as a witness. However, in the end, Liang refused to sign the document. I again sent Servant Gu to implore the two monks to settle things, but their intentions remained unchanged.

So I had no alternative but to consider reporting the matter to the local authorities. But first I planned to move to new lodgings. I went into the city and found an old room in Tribute Scholar Deng’s (Deng Gongshi) house. I returned, paid Liang for three nights at his house, and took my bags into town. The sky gradually cleared. But this new house had no cooking pot, so I bought a crock for making dinner. There was a bright moon, which I took as a hopeful sign of clear weather on the way.

Fourteenth day [28 January]: I heard movement sounds in the government offices in the morning. When I got up and looked out, it was drizzling once again. I had Servant Gu cook a meal and wrote an accusation that I had him deliver to Mr. Wu, the Prefect. However, that day, the touring inspection commissioner (xunfang shi) was coming from Wuyuan, and Mr. Wu had gone out to meet him in the outskirts⁹⁰. Servant Gu waited for his return while I sat in my room as it rained.

I walked by the Surveillance Bureau [Chayuan] offices in the early afternoon. I observed the gifts and welcome banquet dishes the Left River intendant and Xuanhua County magistrate had prepared for the visitor. There was a plentiful supply of both. I then returned to my lodging. Since the prefect had not yet returned, Servant Gu suggested he go to the Exalted Benevolence Monastery and appeal to the monks again. I wrote another letter for him to deliver to them, but as before, they ignored it.

Fifteenth day [29 January]: At the fifth watch, it was bitter cold, but at daybreak, the sky turned clear. Since the first of the month, it has been cloudy every morning until now, so it took precisely half a month for the weather to clear. On this day, the touring inspection commissioner was on duty in Nanning, receiving his various subordinate officials, so in the morning, I went to take a look. After midday, Prefect Wu returned from visiting the Left River Intendant, so I had Servant Gu take my accusation to him regarding the Tranquil Hearing affair. He too ignored my appeal. That afternoon, I went out of town to look for a cart and porter but could not find either. I was very disheartened.

Sixteenth day [30 January]: This day was especially bright and clear. The touring inspection commissioner immediately hurried off to Taiping Prefecture at the fifth drum. When he came here from Si’en, he was in the same kind of rush; I do not know why. I suspect it was because the Vietnamese were threatening the border once more, but I did not hear of him deploying any troops. Everyone, whatever their rank, dismissed this issue as of no concern. So once more, I sent Servant Gu to search everywhere for a cart and porter, but I never found one.…

Seventeenth day [31 January]: For a second time, I prepared incense, candles, and a vegetarian dish and went to Exalted Benevolence Monastery. I had Cloud White cook the vegetables and then laid them out as offerings. I only asked for Tranquil Hearing’s cassock, sutras, and bamboo case; I did not mention other items of monetary value. Cloud White stalled, saying he needed to wait until Precious Altar returned. I then proceeded to exhume Tranquil Hearing’s bones, which nearly filled an entire urn. Ashes and earth were mixed in with them, so I painstakingly removed these impurities with bamboo chopsticks, which took up much of the day. I then deposited the ashes into the urn and returned them to the original burial plot. Next, I wrapped the bones in several layers of paper and took them outside the monastery, as I was not allowed to bring them inside.

Just then, Precious Altar returned. Seeing that I had asked for the sutras and bamboo case, he immediately scowled like a thief and said: “The monk died and has already been laid to rest. What are you doing willfully digging him up?” He then bolted the door and locked me inside. I smiled, gauging that he probably wanted me to write an affidavit falsely affirming that I had taken possession of all Tranquil Hearing’s items. By this time, the sun had already set. Earlier, I had heard him muttering to himself, saying, “You say I conspired to murder the monk. My only regret is that I did not conspire to murder you!” Recalling these words, I was very frightened, so I gave in and handed over a false affidavit, after which I was given only the cassock and the sutra. I could then take the wrapped skeletal remains back to my quarters.

It was already dark when I reached the Deng Inn. I found a candle and rewrapped the bones to make a respectful bow to them. I then immediately packed up everything inside the cassock and stitched it shut. Then I placed the items into the large bamboo case, filling its lower compartment. Fortunately, that day had been sunny and clear, so I could spend the entire day sorting Tranquil Hearing’s bones by the riverbank. On my return, in the darkness, I spotted a carriage by the sandbank, and I thought I would surely be on my way the following day.

Xu Xiake was now heading toward Guizhou, but first he planned to visit Lu Wanli, a regional commander based in Sanli, northeast of Nanning.⁹¹ Lu, a fellow Jiangnan native, proved such a congenial host that Xu would stay seven weeks in the Sanli area.⁹²

Twenty-second day [5 February]:⁹³… After ten li, the gorge opens expansively, with mountains on the rim and a broad valley in the middle. One peak rose steeply from the level land, much like Guilin’s Lone Elegance and Xiangwu’s Jade Stone Crag [Langyan], but smaller and more jagged.⁹⁴ The road passes to its west. Suddenly, tree shadows were cast downward, with sunlight visible in between, and I quickly turned east toward the mountain to find a rupture between its north and south. The south entrance had a huge rock jutting out from the cave roof and dividing the entry into two. Inside the door, a crack extended several rods in height and a rod and one-half in breadth, extending five or six rods north of the peak. Exiting by the north opening, the flying peak above leaned over and soared eastward, like a walkway circling into the air, as hanging trees threw shadows. I went back inside and to the west reached another window, turning to the northwest and then out, with twists and turns, several arches, and various cracks and apertures, until I reached the west entry. With one small peak, four openings, and two internal passages, it is like a miniature version of Jade Stone Crag. But Jade Stone Crag is tall and vast, while this cave is level and narrow.

Proceeding north from the cave for three li, I reached Cassia Water Bridge [Guishui Qiao] over a stream that comes from the northwest, while the peak to the south overlooks the stream and bridge. In the past, a cluster of rocks formed a terrace, and a pavilion was erected on top called the Come Hither from Afar Pavilion [Laiyuan Ting], but now only ruins remain.

Crossing east over the bridge and going another two li to the north, I arrived in Sanli. The town was founded in the eighth year of the Wanli reign (1580), and the commander’s headquarters dates from that same time. The Nandan Frontier Guard (Nandan Wei) was moved here to subdue the Eight Strongholds [Bazhai].⁹⁵ It was afternoon already, so I put up outside the south wall at the home of a company commander surnamed Chen. He belongs to the Chen family of Shangyu in Zhejiang and has lived here for twenty years. The evening sunshine was lovely, so I went into the town to pay my respects at Emperor Guan Temple [Guandi Miao] and then changed money in the market before returning. Once I was in bed, rain fell heavily once more.

Twenty-third day [6 February]: When I got up in the morning, the rain had stopped. Soon, the sun was shining brightly, so I told Servant Gu to wash the clothes and blankets. At the same time, I prepared a letter for Regional Commander Lu (Canrong Lu), attaching my poems on “Lamenting Tranquil Hearing,” in preparation for delivery the following morning. At dusk, the sun disappeared among black clouds.

Twenty-fourth day [7 February]: It was raining again when I rose at dawn. In the morning, I submitted my letter to Mr. Lu. Lu is from Zhenjiang and has held office here for six years. His given name is Wanli. Having received my letter, he had a squad leader bring me his name card, so I entered to pay my respects. I gave him a report on affairs in my hometown and stayed for quite some time before leaving. “I ought to host you for longer,” he said, “but I have another engagement today. Tomorrow, I will give you my full attention.” It turned out that this day was the growing-up ceremony for his grandson, Boheng, and the various officers arranged a celebratory party. When I went back to the residence, the rain kept pouring down. Chen, my host, plied me with alcohol, and I went to bed tipsy.

Twenty-fifth day [8 February]: The sky gradually cleared when I rose in the morning. I wrote my travel diary in my lodgings. In the morning, Mr. Lu sent me a letter setting up a meeting time; he returned the entire gift I had presented. I wrote a letter in reply, insisting that he keep it, and he accepted the “Autumn Scents in Gold Valley” (Jingu qiuxiang) scroll. In the afternoon, I attended a banquet in the inner chambers, conversing with Mr. Lu. His younger brother Xuanzhi and other siblings were welcoming and sincere, and I greatly liked them.

Twenty-sixth day [9 February]: I got up in the morning and went to thank Mr. Lu. He put me up in the east wing of the residence, screened by tall pines; it was quiet and comfortable. Mr. Lu was most lavish with his presents, giving me a jacket and socks, trousers and shoes, showing an unstinting generosity and cordiality beyond that of one’s own flesh and blood. On this day, Mr. Lu brought out new and old issues of the Gazette to show me. Now, for the first time, I learned that Huang Daozhou had arrived in the capital and submitted two memorials, only to be rebuked in an edict for his stubbornness; Xiong Wenju (1595–1668), secretary in the Ministry of Personnel (Libu), had come to his rescue with another memorial. I also learned that a verdict of banishment had been planned in the case of Zheng Man (1594–1639) but that later, an imperial edict upgraded the penalty, sentencing him to death; Minister of Punishments (Xingbu Shangshu) Ren had been demoted three ranks for this.⁹⁶ In the sixth month, the commander of the imperial guards was reported to be ill. I also learned that Qian Qianyi had been denounced in a memorial written by a petty person eager to ingratiate himself with Wen Tiren (d. 1638) and so was arrested and sent to the capital, where he was imprisoned along with Qu Shisi (1590–1650).⁹⁷ Zhu Guobi, marquis of Wuning (Wuning hou), and others attacked Wen Tiren, leading to his retirement in the sixth month. The cases of Zheng and Qian have yet to be settled.

After moving north to Qingyuan Prefecture and spending some three weeks exploring sights near Yishan County, the prefectural capital, Xu Xiake set off again on the tenth day of the third month, heading northwest and arriving two days later in a settlement at Desheng.⁹⁸

Twelfth day [of the third month] [25 April]:⁹⁹ I rose at dawn, but it was still raining when finished breakfast. I instructed Slave Gu to accompany the soldiers carrying our luggage and proceed to Desheng’s west camp. I entered the gate of Desheng’s east lane, and after one li, I turned north. Within another one-half li, I arrived at the foot of the north mountain—Yuan Family Mountain [Yuanjia Shan]. I passed Avalokiteśvara Retreat [Guanyin An] but did not go in, instead following a track to the left and going up the mountain. There was a cavern near the summit, its entrance facing south, some five rods high, with a large rock pillar occupying the space in the middle. I was able to enter both toward the east and the west; the cavern grew dark as I began to descend. I had earlier read a stele at Avalokiteśvara Retreat: “Behind the retreat lies Lion Cavern [Shizi Dong].” So I knew this had to be Lion Cavern.

I had also heard from locals that a cavern extends to the rear of the mountain. Seeing how deep this cavern was, I was sure they meant this one. Outside, rain was still pouring down. On the top of the mountain stands Jade Emperor Belvedere [Yuhuang Ge], and I wanted to go and look for torches to explore the cavern, but the belvedere monks happened to have gone down the mountain, so there was nobody there. I told the attendant, Wang Gui, to go back to the Avalokiteśvara Retreat to get torches while I climbed the mountain, umbrella in hand. Stone steps wended their way up the rock face very steeply, and there were several twists and turns; when I got to the top, I found the door to the upper level was locked but noted that pieces of firewood stored in the lower level could serve as torches. I promptly picked up some pieces and tossed them down. Below, I saw two monks at the entrance to the cavern, and I suspected they were from the Jade Emperor Belvedere. Once I got down there, I found the attendant was there too.

The monks were actually from Avalokiteśvara Retreat; one was named Meditative Oneness (Chanyi), the other Luminous Jade (Yingyu). They had come at the bidding of the senior monk, Brimming Chamber (Manshi), to welcome me by serving tea and guide me through the cavern. So I joined them and collected the firewood I had tossed down; we entered the cavern with abundant torches. Proceeding through the opening on the east side of the screening pillar, we carried on for several rods, and then the passage opened into a lofty space. Here, there were rocks in all kinds of shapes: Skyscraping Pillar [Qingtian Zhu], Rhinoceros Gazing at the Moon [Xiniu Wangyue], Warbler Beak [Yingzui], Stone Boat [Shichuan]. Turning east for several dozen more rods, we saw beams of light shining down from the north wall, and I assumed this was the way out of the cavern. But going east, we found another dark passageway, so we followed it, torches in hand, only to find that it ended after about five rods. So we returned to the north exit, arriving below the opening where the light came in. Rocks hung down precipitously, with light projected above, like several moons shining in at the same time.

I was curious, so I clambered up the rocks to find that a ledge curled around to the left, and I could exit through a north opening—below the opening I had seen earlier from inside. Leaving the cavern, I climbed the south-facing slope to find rocks shaped like sepals, and it felt like walking on top of a cluster of lotus blossoms; when I passed the area where there were holes in the rock face, it was like seeing things through a hanging curtain. On the south side, I ascended to the summit, entering from the rear of Jade Emperor Belvedere to find the belvedere monks had now returned. Climbing to the belvedere, I looked down to see the houses in Desheng arrayed like fish scales below me, and the serried ranks of peaks all lay within my gaze. Accompanied by the two monks, I descended the mountain, passing Lion Cavern and entering Avalokiteśvara Retreat, where I thanked Brimming Chamber and said goodbye.

Then, I went south for one-half li, passing Desheng Market [Desheng Jie], where the market was in progress. Amid the rain, I crossed the street and headed south, and after another one-half li arrived at Wei Family Mountain [Weijia Shan]. Here, I ascended steps on the western slope. Trees hung low from the sheer rock face, like spiraling dragons dancing in the air. Above, branches of other trees mingled with the tips of huge trees arrayed by the entrance to a cavern, uniting together as one, linking up and soaring down. On a horizontal ledge, a single tree pierced through holes in the rock as if part of a single carving. Above and below the entry to the cavern, the rock face was sheer; the entry faced west. Looking ahead, you saw just the tops of the trees, and only when you got closer did the entrance come into view. In front was a small terrace, with rocks lying horizontally by the cliff’s edge, like a protective railing.

Ascending higher, I found Avalokiteśvara Belvedere [Guanyin Ge] directly in front of the cavern entry and entered the cavern to the right. The cavern divides into two branches: one is accessed behind the belvedere and, turning south, becomes dark. Holding a torch, I reached the end after five rods and found no further holes. The other branch is accessed from the west side of the belvedere: it descends one level and turns north, growing dark, ending after ten rods, with no other holes. In short, although this cavern looks out into space, it lacks deep cavities, unlike Lion Mountain, which is pierced all the way through. Lion Mountain Cavern is remarkable for its uninterrupted passage inside. At the same time, this cavern impresses with its presentation on the outside—leaning over the drop, the perpendicular rock face above, matching the sheer rock face below, is a marvelous sight.

To the left of the Avalokiteśvara Belvedere was the monk’s sleeping nook. Given the steep cliff above and below, the monk used a bamboo door as a screen. At the south end, there was an opening to the outside, over one rod in width, like a pavilion hanging out into space; the monk was planning to screen this off, too. I urged him to lay a piece of wood to fence off the opening but not block the view, and the monk accepted my suggestion.

The monk initially had intended to stay put, but soon I heard reports that this cavern also extended far toward the rear, and since I was keen to go all the way, I gave him some money and asked him to buy torches and guide me; he happily agreed. Two traders from Guangdong, hearing our exchange, tagged along. Once in, we searched everywhere but found no deep cavity, so we stopped. Going down the steps at the end of the cavern, we came to another opening. We entered and found it extended no more than four rods and was very narrow, so we descended the mountain with the rain still coming down heavily.

After one-half li, I reached the central portion of Desheng Market and proceeded west, passing the branch office. After one more li, I exited through the West Market [Xijie] gate, and one more li to the west, I found a training camp on the north side of the street—this was Desheng Camp [Desheng Ying]. When I inquired about the luggage, I was told it had been taken to Hechi Battalion [Hechi Suo].…

To the south stood a huge, tall monolith with a monk’s thatched cottage on top—this was Lotus Blossom Retreat. It was like the Buddhist retreat in front of Fragrant Mountain Monastery [Xiangshan Si], but the monk raised pigs and stored refuse by the gorge wall—rather disrespectful to a sacred spot. West of the stream in the gorge was an old three-room temple bolted and abandoned. A retreat in front was tumbledown, with a wooden table and large stools inside, but nobody was looking after the place. With stones empty and clouds cold, I found it discouraging. Then I returned.…

Then, going west, I passed the entry to an old terrace; the road was laid with bricks, but the houses nearby were sparse—it was not as thriving as Desheng. Another li to the west, I entered the east gate of Hechi Battalion. It has a brick wall with four gates, but the battalion offices are in ruins, with very few houses. During the famine in the wuwu year [1618], the buildings were burned, looted by bandits, and reduced to grass and weeds. Desheng is inhabited entirely by outsiders, who hired native soldiers from Donglan and Nadi to guard the town, and it managed to remain secure and avoid misadventure. In contrast, this garrison town could not protect itself and was put to the torch. The luggage had been set down in the western barracks of the battalion, but the place was unbearably dirty and mean, so after changing my clothes and shoes, I went to East Market [Dongjie] to call on Du Shizheng. Finding he had gone out, I returned to the hostel and went to the east gate. There, Shizheng led me to his study in a rear wing of Blessed Mountain Retreat [Fushan An] on top of the Battalion’s earth mound. The retreat monk was so poor that he had no wood for the stove, so the meal was prepared in the soldier’s house and then brought to the retreat. We transferred the luggage there too.

In the afternoon, I told Servant Gu and the attendant to report to the Battalion Commander, Mr. Liu, with the letters and army tallies. He happened to have gone out, but at dusk, he returned and sent a message: “I ought to call on you promptly. Since it is late, I shall come in the morning.” The battalion’s wall and the Blessed Mountain Monastery to the rear were both built during the Yongle reign by eunuch emissary Lei Chun, the man who developed mining on Mengying Mountain [Mengying Shan].

Thirteenth day [26 April]:¹⁰⁰ When I got up in the morning, I wanted to visit Mr. Liu, so I went to the market to look for a name card, but Liu arrived before I had time to do that. Liu’s given name is Hongxun, and his nickname is Mengyu. The provisions he gave me were abundant, but I accepted only the rice and the meat. Soon, the notepaper arrived, so I delivered a note of appreciation to his office, a newly thatched building. I consulted Mr. Liu on which route was preferable.

“The road through Nandan is wide and goes a long way,” he said, “but the households of the native officials are in turmoil, and the road through Xiasi is not open.¹⁰¹ If you take the route through Libo, the road is close but the mountains are hazardous, with the Yao and Zhuang often coming and going unpredictably.¹⁰² On the west edge of Si’en is River Back Ridge [Hebei Ling], which is very high and steep, a dangerous road where you may see nobody the whole day. After you reach Maolan to the west, you enter Libo jurisdiction, and only there can you hire porters. But on that road, you must travel with a larger group.”

Earlier, Commander Qi (Qi Zhihui) had given me escort tallies and said, “If you travel via Libo, have Aide-de-Camp (Mujun) Fang Yujie escort you there.” The indigenous inhabitants of Libo, it seemed, lived in fear of Qi, and Fang was his shadow; he often shepherded travelers and goods back and forth. Mr. Liu told Fang to come and personally instructed him to see me to Libo, and though Fang assented, he showed no sign of following through, hoping to secure a large bribe.

Looking at the north mountain cavern from the government office, it is like a millet kernel inlaid in a screen. I had just gone out, intending to tour the north mountain, when Mr. Wang, card in hand, came to visit. His given name is Mian, and his nickname is Xianzhou; he also conveyed Mr. Liu’s wish to see me. Soon after, Mr. Liu’s written invitation arrived, so instead of touring the north cave, I drank at Liu’s offices. Also present were Wang Xianzhou, Du Shizheng, and Shizheng’s older brother Du Tiqian, all students at Hechi Battalion. Student Zeng came separately later. During the meal, Shizheng said his father-in-law, Chen Mengxiong, was traveling to Nandan. “Here, it is just finding porters that is difficult,” he said. “If he accompanies you, you should not be troubled by bad people.” Mr. Liu told a page to invite him, but he did not come. Not knowing what was best, I felt at sea.

Fourteenth day [27 April]: Because today was an inauspicious day, Mr. Chen’s departure was postponed. When I conducted a divination, Nandan was promising, and Libo had obstacles. But when a second divination was made, the result favored Libo. My dilemma was still unresolved. So I went out the north gate and went on an excursion to the north mountain. It lies a little over one li to the north of the town. I went up steps for about one more li. The mountain rises in three tiers, and a Buddhist edifice is located on top of the second tier and below the highest tier. After exiting the north gate, I first proceeded up a level canyon. Within one-half li, there was a jumble of rocks spilling over near a corner, like doors and like signs, like screens and like beams, like bamboo shoots and like fungus, all different in their striking features, even more artful than Lotus Blossom Pond [Lianhua Chi] and Fragrant Mountain Monastery.

Continuing to the north for almost one more li, I crossed the mountain toward the north and climbed a steep staircase that clung to the cloudy rock face, making bends for almost one li, then entered through a side gate. There was a three-room hall. Because the monk went out to look for food, he had closed the door, and looking at it from below, I thought I would not be able to enter, but when I pushed the door, I found it had not been bolted. I went inside, and the board above read “Cloud Deep Belvedere” [Yunshen Ge], while to the right, a prose tribute was written on another board, in which provincial graduate Dong Qiying described how he studied here and how he searched for a musical stone to the east of this building and erected a thatched pavilion to house it.¹⁰³ Now, no sign exists if you come from the retreat searching for the pavilion. The west end of the retreat climbs a sheer rock face with a perpendicular cliff above and below. Still, a thin path like a scar descends the cliff to a hollow where water collects behind a manmade dike, dripping down from the cliff above and providing a supply for morning and evening collection. The retreat has no other notable features, but one can see far into the distance from this height. To the south, looking straight ahead, I saw Abundantly Numinous Mountain [Duoling Shan] beyond the second row of peaks. Ram Horn Mountain [Yangjiao Shan] and Wei Family Mountain are the landmarks visible to the east and west.

After lingering there for a long time, I went down the mountain and followed the main road outside the north gate east and northeast for one li. At that point, I entered Longevity Mountain Monastery [Shoushan Si]. Water gathered here and there beneath a jumble of rocks, and on the peak, three or four structures of varying heights have been built to make sacrifices to gods and Buddha. A Gold Transcendent (Jinxian) statue had been placed in the first room I entered. To the west, a fissure extended from south to north between the rocks: clear water collected there, like a natural boundary. Using the stone blocks as a bridge, I forded the stream to the west, where on one side a line of rocks extended from south to north, with gaps like doorways above and below. I threaded through to the west, where a retreat faces north. Water collects in front to form a pond, ringed by rocks.

Behind the retreat, up-thrusting rocks are isolated and high, and on top stands a three-room structure, with a statue in the middle, imposing in robes and hat. An old man identified the image as that of Commander Zhang [Zhang Zongye], but the students there all said it was Wenchang.¹⁰⁴ In Blessed Mountain Monastery, I read Poems on Heyang’s Eight Scenes (Heyang bajing shi), which had a colophon written by Zhang Zao, in which he said he composed them among the mossy rocks of Longevity Mountain when he passed through while inspecting troops in the wuzi year of the Wanli reign (1588). So there can be no doubt that the statue is of him.¹⁰⁵ Because there is no text to record this here, these younger men were unaware of the facts, hailing the statue as Wenchang, not knowing it was Zhang.

After standing in tribute for some time, I walked southwest for one li and entered the town through the east gate, returning to my inn in Blessed Mountain. I told the slave to buy salt and look for porters in Desheng in preparation for departure the next day. I then wrote up my diary in the residence. Later, Du Shizheng and his father-in-law arrived and found porters for me, committing to leaving for Nandan the next day.

Today, the sky cleared in the afternoon and was completely clear by evening. The icy wheel rising in the east boosted my spirits.

Fifteenth day [28 April]: When I rose at first light, the sky was as clear as though it had been washed. I ate quickly and prepared to leave. Mr. Liu wanted to see me off, so I went to thank him. Then I accompanied Du Shizheng to his father-in-law’s house, and we waited till he was ready to leave. We exited through the west gate and headed west. We crossed a stream, and after seven li, we passed to the north of Ram Horn Mountain. We waited for an exchange of porters at the west village, but the relief carriers failed to show. After waiting quite some time, we went south and crossed an earth ridge. Looking to where there was a ring of peaks in the west, I saw a cavern near the summit. Facing southeast, its entrance was huge, and I suspected that this was the so-called New Cavern [Xindong].

The hills divided into two groups, east and west, south of an earthen knoll, and we proceeded southward through the col in the middle. After five li, I noticed a small brook gurgling to the left of the road, soon joined by a brook coming down from the rocky mountain to the northwest. We crossed the stream from the north and followed it; two li to the south, we arrived at Dujie Village [Dujie Cun], where several households perched on the western foothills. This area, known as West Den [Xichao], was infested with Zhuang bandits. In this next stretch, no porters could be found. After another two li to the south, we followed the stream into a narrow gorge between hills. After one and a half li, we turned east, and after another one and a half li, the stream went south while the road crossed west through a dip, and we finally got out of danger after we made it past the so-called Dujie Mound [Dujie Long]. On the mound, grasses and trees offered cover for highwaymen. A few days earlier, there had been a robbery here, and I counted myself fortunate to get through without a hitch.

Descending the valley to the west for three li, a thatched cottage stood on the north slope—this was a tax station (shuisi). It was under Desheng jurisdiction but administered by the local chieftain here. Going west one li, we reached Luosuo Village [Luosuo Cun]. The Dujie stream turns west and arrives here, then enters the canyon to the south, while the road passes to the north of the village and crosses the hills. Dujie and Luosuo are both bandit dens. After two and a half li to the northwest, we passed underneath rocks and a huge boulder perched north of the road, with a banyan tree straddling it.

After another li to the west, there was a huge cavern halfway up the mountain on the right, its entrance facing southeast, very tall and steep; just seeing it made my spirits take flight. The porters had just then put down their loads, so I plucked up my courage and rushed to climb up the slope, although the thatch grass was dense and there was no path. Down below, everyone was shouting, but this just made me climb with renewed energy, and I pushed my way through the thorns and creepers and reached the approach to the cavern. Ahead were many bamboo palms of enormous height. The cavern entrance was very lofty, and inside was cool and spacious; the cave extended back some ten rods. To the right was a small cavity, very narrow but hollow in the middle; I wondered if I could get farther if I crawled inside. In front of the cavern, a rock was divided into two forks, the tip hanging down. I rested there alone; because Mr. Chen was waiting for me below, I went back down.

After another two li to the west, we stopped for the night in a village on the north side of Horse Grass Dike [Macao Tang], on the slope of the north peaks. A river flows west of the village from the gorge to the north then through a gorge to the west; it is the upper reach of the East River [Dongjiang]. The thatched houses of the villagers are very large, with wooden floors and bamboo porches. The owners came out with grass-filtered wine to offer travelers. “They are all bandits,” Mr. Chen told me.

The moon rose over the eastern hills that night, as bright and clean as though just washed. Since the beginning of spring, this is the only day where there has not been the slightest bit of cloud to obscure the morning sun and the evening moon.

—Translated by Allan H. Barr

____________________

Source: “Yuexiyou riji si” (YJJZ 1:646–48; YJ, 1:531–33).

1. 1  Wuyuan County was north of Nanning, in neighboring Si’en Subprefecture.

2. 2  Sanli is modern Sanli Zhen, in the northeast corner of Shanglin Xian.

3. 3  In these remote parts, shared roots quickly created a connection between Xu Xiake and fellow Jiangsu natives. On the eve of his arrival in Sanli, Xu found accommodation in the village home of a woman whose father hailed from Nanjing; although she did not know Xu, on hearing his accent, she promptly offered him a bed for the night.

4. 4  YJJZ, 1:655–57; YJ, 1:539–42.

5. 5  The Chinese text mistakenly refers to the cave as Ruiyan 瑞巖; see YJJZ, 1:655; YJ, 1:540. Xu describes Jade Stone Crag in YJJZ, 1:619; YJ, 1:506.

6. 6  The Nandan Frontier Guard, a military garrison, had in the early Ming period been stationed in Nandan, near the Guizhou border. It retained the original name even after reassignment to Sanli. For more on the Eight Strongholds, see YJJZ, 1:675, YJ, 1:558.

7. 7  Wen Tiren, also known as Wucheng, Qian Qianyi, Zheng Man, courtesy name Miyang, Xiong Wenju, and Qu Shisi were prominent figures in the politics of the time.

8. 8  DMB, 2:1474–78.

9. 9  Yishan is modern Yizhou Shi. Desheng is now Desheng Zhen, in the northwest corner of Yizhou.

10. 10  YJJZ, 1:719–25; YJ, 1:595–601.

11. 11  YJJZ, 1:722; YJ, 1:598.

12. 12  Xu Xiake provides more detail in a long aside: “In the winter of the ninth year, native official Mo Ji held a birthday celebration for his mother, and when his sister-in-law—the wife of his third younger brother—came to deliver her congratulations, he raped her. As a result, this brother and the fourth younger brother were outraged and together rebelled against him, forcing Mo Ji to flee to Nadi. Later, Xiasi—that is to say, native chief Lan of Dushan—having been abused earlier by Nandan in the ninth month of the tenth year also seized an opportunity to vent his resentment, and the area fell into chaos. The two younger brothers used ten thousand men from Xiasi to lay siege to Nandan, while Ji brought troops from Nadi to come to Nandan’s aid, with the result that the third brother fled to Si’en Subprefecture and the fourth to Shangsi, while Ji returned to the prefectural capital. In the twelfth month, he gathered local troops and seized the third brother, imprisoning him. In the spring of this year, the prefecture sent Commander Qi to mediate. The third brother’s life was spared, but Ji is still at loggerheads with the fourth brother in Shangsi.”

13. 13  Libo, now a Xian in Guizhou Province, was in Xu Xiake’s day just inside Guangxi territory, northwest of Desheng.

14. 14  Dong was a juren of 1627.

15. 15  A Daoist deity, god of literature and culture.

16. 16  Zhang Zao, a native of Anhui, had been appointed a military commander in Guangxi after serving with distinction in Zhejiang during the early Wanli reign.