Within the private chambers of Rong Chen Zi, the Zhiguan of Qingxu Temple, there existed a secret room. Inside stood a red gauze canopy, an ivory bed, and a multi-tiered display shelf at the head of the bed. Beyond the bed was an ornate folding screen painted with peonies and court ladies, and beyond that screen stood a clothing rack, a washbasin stand, and a vanity mirror. In the corner sat an intricately carved gilt-bronze incense burner — the whole setting bearing a remarkable resemblance to the inner boudoir of a young woman.

The secret room’s mechanism was concealed within a painting of mountain pines in the bedchamber. On nights when no one was about, Rong Chen Zi would come here every few days.

It was now the third watch of the night. After bathing and perfuming himself, Rong Chen Zi entered the secret room alone and used a fire-striker to light the arhat lamp on the wall. As the light gradually brightened, through the layers of gauze curtains hanging heavily about the bed, the faint outline of a person could be discerned lying within.

He added two spoonfuls of demon-warding incense to the burner, rinsed his hands with water, then slowly drew aside the gauze curtain. Within the red silk bed-curtains lay a woman, dressed in white gauze robes, her figure graceful and slender. Her hands were folded atop her abdomen, her beautiful eyes tightly shut, as though in deep slumber.

Rong Chen Zi carefully took her pulse, concentrated his mind to inscribe a talisman, and infused it into a cup of talisman water for her. She did not open her eyes, but kept her lips pressed together and refused to drink. Rong Chen Zi shook his head and stirred in two more spoonfuls of granulated sugar. When he fed it to her again, she parted her cherry lips ever so slightly and drank it obediently.

Rong Chen Zi set down the cup. There was no other soul in that room, yet his robes were immaculate, his conduct entirely proper — not a single transgression. Having served as Zhiguan for so long, one inevitably grows a little set in one’s ways. He leafed through the scriptures on the display shelf and casually pulled out a copy of the Zhenzhong Scripture, then recited it for her for half an hour. The woman remained still and silent, without the slightest sign of waking. When he had finished reciting, Rong Chen Zi replaced the scripture, rinsed his hands once more, lowered the gauze curtain, and left the secret room.

Rong Chen Zi had served as Zhiguan of Qingxu Temple for many years. He was a gentleman of propriety — solemn and reserved with everyone in the temple as a matter of course. Throughout all of Daozong, whenever his name was mentioned, people would extend a thumb and praise his unblemished character.

Yet that night, Qingxu Temple was anything but peaceful. After the fourth watch, a group of people dressed in Daozong robes suddenly bore down upon Lingxia Mountain with clear intent to force their way into Qingxu Temple.

Rong Chen Zi received the report and furrowed his brow slightly but said nothing. He threw on his outer robe and went to the main gate of Qingxu Temple. The sky had not yet lightened, and the night mist hung thick and heavy. Countless torches stretched into one long serpentine line.

Someone employed a sound-transmission technique, his voice resonant as a great bell: “Rong Chen Zi — you have abducted the Sea Emperor in secret. What are your intentions?”

Only then did Rong Chen Zi arrive, unhurried, his horsetail whisk in hand, his robes and cap impeccable, his expression grave: “So it is Yuyang Zhenren, the sword-master of Jiuding Palace. What compels a fellow Daoist to force his way in at this hour of the night?”

This Yuyang Zhenren was past fifty, slight of build, yet possessed of a formidable temper: “Enough of your pretenses, Rong Chen Zi! Someone saw you construct a secret room within your private chamber! At the start of the year, when we launched our assault on the Sea Emperor’s Palace, you were the first to enter — and it was you who forced open the great clam in which the Sea Emperor dwelt. The Sea Clan’s sacred spring water remains, yet the Sea Emperor alone has vanished. And now you suddenly build this hidden room. Could it be that you intend to hold the Sea Emperor hostage and dominate the Sea Clan?”

The moment those words were spoken, a commotion rippled through the crowd. All those present were Daoist practitioners, possessed of good self-restraint. But the Sea Emperor’s whereabouts were a matter of the utmost importance — it was no wonder that people had behaved so out of character.

“This…” Rong Chen Zi was visibly startled, a look of difficulty crossing his face. “Fellow Daoist, this humble Daoist already struggles to manage Qingxu Temple alone. How could I possibly harbor ambitions toward the Sea Clan?”

But Yuyang Zhenren had clearly come prepared, and was not about to be put off by a single dismissal. He stepped forward from the crowd and fixed Rong Chen Zi in a direct stare: “Hmph. Then let the Zhiguan explain — what person is being kept in this secret room you constructed inside your private chamber? Or is it that the Zhiguan’s private chamber contains no secret room at all?”

His smile carried a faint mockery. The skin of his face was dry and sallow, yet his eyes were keen and penetrating. Rong Chen Zi met his gaze without flinching, but a genuine look of embarrassment appeared on his face: “The secret room… does exist. And as for the person… that is also true.” As the Zhiguan of a great temple, how could he not understand the situation before him? The people of Jiuding Palace must have already investigated the matter thoroughly; otherwise they would never have dared to act so boldly. Better to admit it openly than to have them discover it themselves.

Sure enough, a gleam of satisfaction appeared on Yuyang Zhenren’s face: “Rong Chen Zi, you actually dare to—”

Rong Chen Zi raised his head slightly, cutting him off: “If any among the fellow Daoists present still harbor doubts, please follow me inside and see for yourselves.”

His frankness gave the Daozong people some pause. The whole crowd followed him into Qingxu Temple, where tea was served. Shortly after, several elders of some standing within Daozong were led by him into the private chamber. The furnishings inside were classical and dignified, but no one had the presence of mind to examine them closely.

Pressing the mechanism on the mountain pine painting, they passed through a very short hidden corridor, every one of them alert and on guard, fearing an ambush. Rong Chen Zi lit the wall lamps with practiced familiarity, and a secret room revealed itself before the assembled guests — smoke-gauze red drapes, the entire room lightly fragrant.

Behind layers of red gauze curtains, a woman lay in deep slumber.

These were all people of Daoist cultivation, and the thought of intruding immediately arose in their minds. Rong Chen Zi gave a slight shake of his head and instead drew aside the curtain himself, letting everyone have a clear look. Inside was indeed a woman — still dressed in white gauze robes, like an immortal maiden lost in a dreamless sleep.

“What… what on earth is the meaning of this?” The one who spoke was Yuyan Zhenren of Zhengyi Dao.

Rong Chen Zi lowered his gaze slightly: “This… this junior truly does not know how to explain.”

Yuyang Zhenren immediately seized on the opening: “Hmph. These past years the Sea Emperor has kept to the palace interior, and no one truly knows what he looks like. Perhaps…” Yuyan did not let him continue: “Rong Chen Zi, Daozong has long praised your character and integrity. But today’s matter concerns the Sea Emperor and cannot be taken lightly. It would be best to explain yourself clearly.”

Rong Chen Zi turned his face slightly to one side: “Zhenren, I will conceal nothing from you.” He clenched his jaw, as though steeling himself to a decision: “She is this humble Daoist’s… cultivation vessel.”

The moment those words left his mouth, everyone present was stunned — and then, one by one, their faces flushed red all the way down to the base of their necks.

The dual cultivation method and the arts of the bedchamber were, among the Daoist disciplines, techniques for nourishing life and refining vital energy. Taken purely on their own merits, they could not be counted as perverse practices. Consider, for instance, the peach used in folk customs to represent longevity — in Daoist tradition, the peach had long carried associations with virgins, and its central cleft was understood as a reference to the female form. The connection between the peach and longevity stemmed from the Daoist belief that the bodily fluids of a mature woman could aid in prolonging a man’s life.

This is why images of the God of Longevity holding a peach — commonly seen in folk art — often depict an elderly man with white hair and a prominent forehead extending one finger toward the peach’s central cleft, the finger a veiled allusion to the male organ, the cleft a veiled allusion to the female.

Yet among Daoist practitioners, one finds people of all stripes. As time passed, these bedchamber arts and dual cultivation methods gradually became associated with licentiousness and moral corruption, and were eventually regarded by many as heterodox and depraved.

Within Daozong, a man’s cultivation vessel was roughly equivalent to a woman’s menstrual belt — both were things of the utmost intimacy, and to have them exposed before others was cause for considerable mortification.

Of course, those who had gotten out of bed in the dead of night to come en masse and peer at another person’s menstrual belt had rather more cause for mortification themselves. What was more, the older one grew, the longer one had worn the mask of respectability — and the thinner the skin beneath it had become. The several elders exited the secret room without so much as taking a sip of their tea, faces ashen, departing in such haste one might have thought they wished they could pull their wide sleeves up over their faces to hide.

Good deeds stay home, but embarrassing ones travel a thousand miles. The very next morning, someone made a large donation of incense oil to Qingxu Temple and petitioned Rong Chen Zi to instruct them in the methods of bedchamber cultivation. The visitor had also brought along two fresh-faced young women, hoping that Rong Chen Zi might personally impart his expertise. And the matter immediately sent the whole of Qingxu Temple into an uproar — so our strict, unyielding Zhiguan actually makes use of a cultivation vessel after all…

The eyes of the young Daoist disciples at Qingxu Temple began to carry very peculiar expressions…