There was a scholar surnamed Wang in the county, seventh in his generation, the son of an old family. In youth he admired the Way, and hearing that Mount Lao was full of immortals, he shouldered his book-case and went to travel there. Climbing a summit, he found a Taoist temple of great seclusion. A Taoist sat on a rush cushion, white hair falling to his collar, yet with a bright and lofty bearing. Wang paid his respects and spoke with him; the doctrine he expounded was most profound. When Wang begged to become his disciple, the Taoist said, "I fear you are too delicate and lazy to endure hardship." Wang answered, "I can endure it." The Taoist's disciples were very many, and at dusk they all assembled; Wang kowtowed to each and stayed in the temple.
At dawn the Taoist called Wang and gave him an axe, bidding him go with the others to cut firewood. Wang respectfully obeyed. After a month or more, his hands and feet were covered with thick calluses, and unable to bear the toil, he secretly thought of going home. One evening he returned to find two men drinking with his master; the day was already dark, and no lamp had been lit. The master cut a piece of paper round as a mirror, pasted it on the wall, and in a moment a bright moon filled the room with light that showed even the finest hair. The disciples stood round in attendance. One of the guests said, "On such a fine night as this we should share our pleasure. Why not call the moon goddess?" So saying, he flung a chopstick into the moon. A beautiful woman stepped out of the light, at first less than a foot tall, but on reaching the floor as tall as a mortal. With a slender waist and graceful neck, she whirled in the "Rainbow Skirt" dance. Presently she sang: "Immortal! immortal! Wilt thou not return? Why dost thou imprison me in the cold palace of the moon?" Her voice was clear and piercing, like the note of a flute. When she had sung, she spun round, leapt onto the table, and in the blink of an eye became a chopstick once more. The three men laughed heartily. Another guest said, "Tonight is the happiest of nights, but I cannot hold my liquor. Will you not see me off in the palace of the moon?" The three moved their table and gradually entered the moon. The onlookers saw them sitting within the moon drinking, beards and eyebrows clearly visible, like shadows in a mirror. After a while the moon grew dim; when the disciples came with candles, the Taoist sat alone and the guests were gone. The dishes on the table remained; the moon on the wall was nothing but a round paper like a mirror. The Taoist asked the disciples, "Have you drunk your fill?" "Yes," they answered. "If you are satisfied, you should go early to bed, and not neglect your wood-gathering." They assented and withdrew. Wang secretly admired the spectacle, and his thought of going home died away.
After another month he could bear the hardship no longer, and the Taoist had taught him not a single art. He could not wait, so he took leave, saying, "Your disciple has come several hundred li to study with you, immortal master. Though I may not attain the art of long life, a little instruction would comfort my heart in its quest. Now two or three months have passed, and I do nothing but cut wood at dawn and return at dusk. At home I never knew such toil." The Taoist laughed and said, "I told you that you could not bear hardship, and so it proves. Tomorrow morning I will send you on your way." Wang said, "Your disciple has labored many days. If you would but teach me some small trick, my coming would not have been in vain." "What art do you seek?" asked the Taoist. "I have often seen that where my master walks, walls cannot keep him out," said Wang. "If I could but learn that, I should be satisfied." The Taoist laughed and consented. He taught him a spell and bade him recite it to himself, then called, "Walk in!" Wang stood facing the wall and dared not enter. "Try it," said the Taoist. Wang walked forward confidently, but stopped at the wall. "Lower your head and enter at once; do not hesitate!" said the Taoist. Wang stepped back a few paces and ran at the wall; at the wall, he passed through as if nothing were there, and looking back, found himself outside. Overjoyed, he went in to give thanks. The Taoist said, "When you go home, keep your conduct pure; otherwise the art will not work." Then he helped him with traveling money and sent him home. At home Wang boasted of his meeting with an immortal and said that no wall could stop him; his wife did not believe it. Wang imitated what he had done, ran at the wall from a few feet away—and dashed his head against the hard wall, tumbling down. His wife helped him up and saw a swelling on his forehead as big as an egg. She mocked him. Wang, humiliated and angry, could only curse the old Taoist's ill-nature.
The Historian of the Strange says: "Whoever hears this story must laugh, yet they do not know how many Wangs there are in the world. Nowadays there are boorish men who relish phlegm and poison yet dread medicine and stone; then come those who lick sores and suck hemorrhoids, offering arts of display of power and violence to flatter their taste, deceiving them: 'Take this art and go, and you may ride roughshod over all without hindrance.' The first trial is never without a little effect, and so they think that the wide world may be traversed in this fashion—and they will not stop until they have dashed their heads against a hard wall and fallen."