Ming Huang was more than an Emperor to him. He was his host who so generously supplied food, drink and elaborate lodgings. He was shrewd enough to know that this was more than the usual run of tricks. No subject could be nearer the Emperor's heart. To fail meant to be expelled from the Palace.
Finally he opened his eyes. His face had an ashen tinge. Solemnly, he began speaking. "Wu Ti of the Han dynasty once asked the court magician, 'Is it possible to avoid growing old?' And the magician replied, 'Yes, in the Northeast grows the chih plant. In the Southwest is a fish that comes to life in spring. A brew made from these two ingredients would be able to bring back youth.'"
"Interesting," Ming Huang commented. "Perhaps, you, too, could make a similar brew. But, tell me, what is the chih plant?"
"It is a divine herb, something like a purple-flowered pear tree. Not being an alchemist, I cannot manufacture the drug, but I know an ancient doctor who can."
Ch'i-ch'i reasoned that if the experiment was a failure, the Imperial wrath would fall upon the doctor, not upon him. And since hope is the last thing that dies in a man's heart, he would keep supplying new doctors as long as there was need for them.
"Bid the alchemist welcome."
"He will be here this evening, perhaps even sooner."
"I shall wait anxiously."
That night the old Alchemist was received in the
Pavilion of Aloes. He had a long white beard, a face
