by Greg Ripley
They were all more than ready to take Jimmie up on the offer, ready to finally let down their guard for a bit. The three of them took seats around the conference table while Jimmie grabbed drinks. Guangming opted for a beer. Jane joined Rohini in drinking a glass of rosé, her standby.
“Guangming, is Jimmie in the loop?” Jane asked.
“He is. You can speak freely. He’s not fully up to date on all that has happened, but he’s a member of the society. You can trust him implicitly.”
“How did you end up being the one to come pick us up, Jimmie?” Rohini said.
“Just a happy coincidence, I guess,” Jimmie said.” I happened to be in New York, so when I received word that a society brother needed a lift, I flew on down.”
Rohini smirked at Jane and Guangming, “Yeah, we don’t really believe in coincidences anymore, at least not as far as all this is concerned,” she said.
“If it’s not a coincidence, does that mean we were destined to meet?” Jimmie said, fixing Rohini with a sidelong glance.
Blushing slightly, she smiled. “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we? I understand it’s going to be a long flight.”
“You’re not kidding. What’s our flight plan anyway?” Jane said.
“We’re headed to Vancouver first, to get over the border and refuel before crossing the Pacific. Then it’s on to Hong Kong. We’ll deal with customs there and refuel again before flying on to Lanzhou,” Jimmie replied.
“How did you get involved in all this secret society stuff?” Rohini asked.
“My family has been involved with the society for several generations. They were originally from Gansu, but my grandparents came south during World War II. Most people who are part of the society have normal everyday lives. We don’t spend all of our time dealing with society business. It just so happens that my normal life is in film. It can be useful for the society to have connections in any industry, so they were happy to support my career. It was a connection from the society that got me my first big break, but after that things took on a life of their own.”
“I bet having an actual double life might give you some insight into some of your roles,” Rohini said.
“I get a kick out of it actually. It’s like an inside joke that only other society members get. I’ve done a few spy thrillers, but I thought it was really funny when I did those triad movies,” Jimmie said.
“Oh, that’s right. I had forgotten about that, wasn’t that Deep Cover?” Jane said, getting a surprised look from Rohini.
“If you ever see the blooper reel from that film, half the time I could hardly keep a straight face. We shot a lot more takes than the director would have liked. I had an easier time with the sequels, but that first one was tough. The director kept yelling at me the whole time. ‘Come on, Jimmie, this isn’t a damn comedy! Get your shit together!’ It was rough.”
“That’s the one where you were an undercover cop who had infiltrated the triads right? So, you were an actor who was secretly in a triad playing a triad member who was secretly a cop. That had to be a bit confusing,” Rohini replied.
“A little, but when you’re an actor, you kind of always feel like you are playing a character. Sometimes it can be hard to switch back and forth, if you really get taken over by a role.”
“Real spycraft isn’t so different,” Jane said. “It’s easy to get lost in a cover if it lasts very long. It’s something you always have to be wary of.”
As they made their way towards Vancouver, they had plenty of time to catch Jimmie up on everything. Jimmie took quite an interest in Rohini, asking her all about herself. He was particularly interested in her passion for the environment.
“So, do you know much about permaculture?” Jimmie said.
“I do, as a matter of fact. I didn’t know you were interested in that kind of thing. I would have thought you spent most of your time partying with the jet set,” Rohini replied.
“I’ve gotten more interested in it in the last few years. I was into the whole celebrity lifestyle for a while, but that got old quickly. It can be quite stressful actually. I’ve come to value my time away from the limelight more. I spend a lot of time filming and doing publicity, so when I can, I like to spend time away from the hustle and bustle.
“I’ve bought some land up in Gansu actually, where I’m planning to build based on permaculture design. I always knew about my family’s connection with the society, but it’s only been in the last few years that I’ve become more involved with it myself. One of the things I heard about where the Guanzi lives is how sustainable the compound is. I find that very inspiring,” Jimmie said.
“So, you’ve never met the Guanzi?” Rohini said.
“No. It will be my first time. I’m pretty excited about it. The society’s inner circle is small, made up mainly of Daoist priests. They’re the link between the Guanzi and the families who make up most of the society. Most ordinary members will never meet the Guanzi. It’s quite an honor.”
“Now you’ve got me excited. Is your land near there? I’d love to hear what you plan to do with it.”
“Well, I’ve only got a rough idea so far. When I first bought it I had planned to simply build a home for myself—a place to get away—but later it occurred to me that I might be able to build something I can share with others, maybe even as an example of a sustainable community. Let me tell you about the site and maybe you can help me brainstorm.”
They spent much of the rest of the flight to Vancouver chatting about permaculture and sustainability. Rohini told Jimmie about some of the sustainable communities she had visited over the years. In college, one of her courses had been an independent study, visiting and writing about several different ecovillages. She spent a summer semester on her project, writing a paper about the strengths and weaknesses of each and the possibilities she saw in them.
At times Jane and Guangming joined the conversation as well, but mostly they just listened or napped. Jimmie told Rohini how he had learned that living up to its Daoist roots, the society had always valued being in harmony with nature. This was usually thought of as a way to live one’s own life as an individual, but in recent years the government and the general population had come to realize its importance for society as a whole.
In the years following the Cultural Revolution, there had been such a push to modernize and industrialize China that environmental concerns had been given short shrift. In its mad dash to catch up with Japan and the West, China’s citizens and its environment had suffered greatly as runaway capitalism put profits over people and the planet. Eventually they realized their mistakes. When renewable energy production took off in the years following the Paris Agreement, China became one of the leaders in making the switch.
The country’s Daoist Association had been one of the leading voices in the ecology movement in China, seeking to green their temples as well as encourage the country’s move towards sustainability. As Daoism in China began to reestablish itself following its suppression and near extinction during the Cultural Revolution, it began to refocus on some of its traditional values, which promoted an ecological lifestyle.
Many of these ideas were incorporated into the modern renewal of Daoism as more and more temples followed the association’s guidance to become officially designated ‘Ecological Temples,’ greening their daily operations and even including scriptural passages with an ecological bent into their daily prayers.
“I like how they are incorporating these ancient ideals into modern life,” Rohini said. “Sometimes it seems like so many of our problems stem from our bad habit of throwing out our ancient wisdom in the pursuit of the newest shiny bauble. Before we had air conditioners and natural gas furnaces and all these things, humans found other ways to stay warm or cool that were not only low-tech, but also low-impact.”
“That’s right. Northwest China is actually a good example o
f that. In the past, much of the population lived in yaodong, or cave homes. Sometimes these are carved into the side of a hill and sometimes they are dug down around a sunken courtyard. Either way, they work the same. They maintain a more constant temperature than ordinary houses, staying warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer, and just as in much of the world, the rural population has a tiny carbon footprint compared to our modern urban lifestyles in the developed world. I mean look at me, jetting around the globe to make movies,” Jimmie said.
“There is a thread there,” Guangming interjected. “A connection between all these things. There is a reason Daoists have traditionally considered caves as sacred sites. We call these dongtian, or heavenly caves, and these traditions go back to Neolithic times. Caves are associated with xuan, or mystery. A word we also use to describe the Dao. There is a correspondence between these caves and cavities within the body. We think of them as being analogous to the place in our body where our primordial spirit dwells, but you can also think of them physically. A mother’s womb is like a cave, so in a sense we were all born in a cave, the cave of the mother.
“Some of the heavenly caves in China have large caverns full of stalactites and stalagmites, different colored crystals, and shiny mineral deposits. The first time I saw the inside of a European cathedral that’s what it reminded me of—a large cavern. The stained-glass windows like colorful mineral deposits and the columns like stalagmites. Aren’t many of the cathedrals and the earlier sacred sites in Europe like Stonehenge supposed to be built on places where the energy lines on the Earth cross?”
“Yes, I think they call them ley lines,” Rohini replied.
“This is remarkably similar to the dongtian fudi system Daoists developed in China. The dongtian are said to be connected by a network of channels we call dimai, or Earth channels. The Immortals are said to be able to travel through these. Sometimes people think of these as actual passageways but perhaps they are more of an energetic network like the network of acupuncture channels in the body. You know, the word xue, which we use to refer to acupuncture points on the body is another word for cave or tunnel. So, the dimai system links the sacred caves like the channels in the body link the acupuncture points,” Guangming said.
“You said dongtian fudi. What’s fudi?” Jane asked.
“Fudi are ‘blessed lands,’ like a kind of paradise. In the traditional system there are said to be ten major dongtian, thirty-six minor dongtian and seventy-two fudi.”
“So, they’re like the Garden of Eden, or a utopia?” Rohini asked.
“Yes, that’s right. This is quite an ancient idea in China. There is a famous story by Tao Qian, called Peach Blossom Spring, about such a place. Peach Blossom Spring has become the term we use for utopia.
“The story is about a fisherman who found himself going along an unfamiliar river that winds through a forest entirely made of peach trees. When he reached the headwaters, he found that the river’s source was a spring flowing out of a cave. He landed his boat, dragging it up onto the riverbank and proceeded into the cave, which turned out to be a tunnel. The tunnel became narrower and narrower until finally he reached a spot so tight he wasn’t sure if he would be able to continue. Seeing that the cave appeared to widen again on the other side of the narrows, he pressed on, squeezing through. Before long, he began to see light at the other end of the tunnel. When he came out of the other end, he found himself in a small village.
“The villagers were surprised to see him, as they weren’t used to visitors, but they were hospitable. They told the fisherman how their ancestors had fled to this place during an earlier time of civil unrest several hundred years before and had not had any contact with the outside world since. He stayed for a week, marveling at the way these villagers were able to provide for themselves, meeting all their needs without trading or bartering with the outside world. When he eventually left, he tried to remember the way to the village, telling his tale to others, but though many searched for the village, neither the fisherman nor anyone else were able to find the village of Peach Blossom Springs again.”
“It almost sounds like you are describing a modern ecovillage, like the ones I visited. Although, I’m pretty sure I could find them again,” Rohini said.
“If only that fisherman had had GPS,” Jimmie quipped, eliciting a chuckle from the group.
“So, let me guess. Was this Tao Qian in the society too?” Jane said.
“No. He lived long before Zhongkui, but it is one of the most famous stories in Chinese literature. Tao Qian was a Daoist recluse, and he was said to be an Immortal by later Daoists. An interesting custom is said to come from him. Tao Qian was said to enjoy chrysanthemum wine a great deal. So much so that he is considered the god of chrysanthemums in folk custom. We have a festival, the Double Ninth Festival, on the ninth day of the ninth month of the Lunar calendar on which people traditionally enjoy climbing mountains and drinking chrysanthemum wine, among other things. It’s an interesting story actually…”
The rest of the group shared an amused look as Guangming launched into his next tale.
“There was a man named Huan Jing whose parents died in a plague that was ravaging the countryside. He had almost succumbed to the illness as well. It was thought at the time that there was a demon responsible for causing the plague, so Huan Jing thought he would need some sort of magic or spiritual ability to defeat this demon and free the country from this plague. He had heard of an Immortal who lived near the Eastern Sea who he thought might be able to help, so he set off on a long journey to find this Immortal. After searching all over, he finally found the Immortal who took pity on him and taught him how to defeat the demon.
“The Immortal told Huan Jing that the demon would appear again on the ninth day of the ninth month and he told him the secret of how to defeat it. Huan returned home and told the villagers who were left to go into the mountains and to take with them some chrysanthemum wine and wear leaves of the plant Wu Zhu Yu, as a talisman against the demon. The story goes that when the demon crawled back out of the sea, the scent of the leaves and the chrysanthemum wine made it intoxicated and dizzy and Huan Jing was able to vanquish the demon, killing it with his sword. Ever since, climbing mountains and drinking chrysanthemum wine has been associated with the Double Ninth Festival.”
“Guangming, I’d forgotten how time flies when you’re around,” Jimmie said. “We’ll be starting our descent into Vancouver in just a few minutes.”
27
Green Dragon Mountains
The Elders’ World
Zhongkui sensed their approach long before they neared his cave. But while his mind registered the disturbance, his body remained perfectly still. After so long in retreat, he could stay immobile like this for hours on end.
He typically alternated between active and passive forms of meditation during the day, practicing his fighting forms every few hours to break up his sitting meditation. Ever the warrior, he kept his skills sharp even here in his retreat cave deep in the mountains.
After a few moments, Zhongkui uncrossed his legs and ended his meditation with a short routine of self-massage to get his circulation moving again. Then he rose and exited the cave. He grabbed his sword on the way. Zhongkui knew those approaching were no threat, but old habits die hard, he thought, and I haven’t practiced my sword forms yet today. He estimated he would have time for a few rounds before his visitors entered the small valley below his cave.
Dayan and Jianhu wound their way along the faint path through the forested valley. Little more than a deer trail, it didn’t appear anyone had been this way in quite some time. The Green Dragon Mountains formed the continental divide of the sole landmass which remained above sea level on the Elders’ world. It ran like a sinuous spine from north to south, its northernmost peaks dropping precipitously down to the rocky cliffs above what was formerly known as the Northern Sea. Now there was only the Great Ocean in all dir
ections.
The southern half of the range dropped more gradually, undulating its way from the high central ridge down to the tail of the dragon. Zhongkui’s cave sat in a small valley near the head of the dragon in the far northwest. Dayan and Jianhu had traversed the dragon’s spine from the New Capital, as it was still known, despite its great antiquity. The old capital city remained fresh in the Elders’ collective consciousness, despite being abandoned after the Great War twelve thousand years before. Only a handful of Elders still lived from those times, most having chosen to return to the One.
Guanyin, his great love, had made that choice. Zhongkui had been tempted to follow suit, but she had already been ancient when they met, at least by Earth’s standards. She’d lived through the Great War and become one of the first Immortals. Even now—being close to fifteen hundred years old himself—he found it hard to fathom. She’d often told him that he had saved her. She had considered returning to the One when they met, yet something about him had piqued her interest in a way she hadn’t felt in centuries. She stayed with him until ten years ago, when time finally caught up with her again, and she had said goodbye. He’d been in the mountains ever since.
Zhongkui had returned from his last trip to Earth to find Guanyin even more quiet than usual. She had always been a peaceful soul. Having done and seen it all many times over would probably do that, he thought. But something had been different this time, and he’d sensed it immediately. In his absence she notified the Council she would be stepping down as Guide and they’d already appointed her replacement by the time Zhongkui returned, which made it feel all the more sudden to him.
At first, there had been reluctance from the council to let him enter retreat, but Zhongkui assured them his pupil, the Earth Guardian, was more than capable of performing her mission without further instruction from him. They agreed to let him go. Not that they really had much choice in the matter. He’d always been headstrong. Their permission had been a formality.
