the trees played gentle music, in tune with a nightingale far up in the azure sky who joined in a song worth singing. Ming Huang breathed deeply of the pungent air. Some slight vestige of peace found its way to his heart. He closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep, sleep without dreams. And as he slept, the earth changed. The sun crept over the far hills to die. And a yellow moon rose like a flying lantern. Soon it faded into white, the stars peeped out, the blue sky was like the glaze of a vast inverted bowl.
Finally, Ming Huang stirred in his sleep. A sudden chill had come over the garden. He opened his eyes and drew his cloak closer about him. A silver blue mist had changed the garden into an enchanted forest. Grotesque trees loomed up everywhere, and in among the trees fireflies glowed in the strange blue glory like small joyous lanterns.
Then Ming Huang glanced up. Beside him stood the gaunt figure of the old Priest.
"Tell me," cried Ming Huang, "did you find my loved one?"
Gently the Priest answered, "Yes, I found her. She is in the Isles of the Blest. When I talked with her, her face was radiant. She was wondrously happy. She gave me this golden hairpin for you."
Ming Huang took it eagerly. He lifted it to his lips.
So long did he remain immobile, the Priest imagined that he must be sleeping. He arranged cushions upon the marble bench so that His Majesty might rest more comfortably. Then he withdrew.
