North of the Eastern Sea lies the Bohai Sea. Zhang Shoujie of the Early Tang wrote in Correct Meanings of the …
North of the Eastern Sea lies the Bohai Sea. Zhang Shoujie of the Early Tang wrote in Correct Meanings of the Records of the Grand Historian: "Penglai, Fangzhang, and Yingzhou are the three divine mountains in the Bohai Sea."
But this place is not known for myth alone. To the south runs the Yellow River. To the north flows the Hutuo River. Streams and rivers from every side come together here, giving the land a grandeur of its own.
Since ancient times, it had been a place for those who sought wonders, and a famed route for travel and pleasure.
Lately, though, the weather had turned vicious. Wind and rain tore across the sea, and the waves were so violent that even the fishermen had tied up their boats and stayed ashore.
And right at a time like this, two young men had taken a narrow skiff and headed straight for the depths of the Bohai Sea.
The one at the bow wore a scholar's cap and sang into the wind and rain. The one at the stern wore a crane-feather cloak and pulled at the oar through the crashing swells.
"The sea stirs the distant hills; the celestial rooster has crowed before dawn. Silver terraces rise in mirrored light; white waves roll like great whales!"
The boy at the bow sang so brightly that his voice seemed to pierce thunder and lightning and carry into the heaving black clouds above.
"Wow, even the storm can't drown out that voice of yours!" The boy in crane robes laughed aloud from the stern. He looked toward the dim, misty reaches of the sea and thought of how the two of them had ended up here: They were returning from their travels when, on a sudden whim, Lin Xiansheng had turned them north and brought them out onto the Bohai Sea in search of something.
The whim belonged to Lin Xiansheng. The one indulging it was Xiao Heyi.
Still, he could not help wondering what exactly Lin Xiansheng had come all this way to find in this empty stretch of sea.
An immortal mountain? No, surely not. Lin Xiansheng was not the sort to chase wild tales. They had seen the Luo River. They had gone as far as Zhongnan. As for all those stories of immortals and marvels, Lin would glance at them in passing, then let them drift off like mist.
Treasure, then? No, not that either. Leaving aside that neither of them cared much for pearls or jade, the two of them traveled light wherever they went: one book, one long sword, one brush, one inkstone. If it were money he wanted, there were plenty of easier ways to earn it than braving storms and monstrous waves for some perilous corner of the sea.
But Lin Xiansheng liked to keep people guessing. It was a common enough failing among the scholars of Inkbound Order, those learned men forever steeped in old things. And the less he said, the more curious Xiao Heyi became. Yet when he looked around, all he saw was the vast, empty open sea, with nothing in sight at all.
Lin Xiansheng knew exactly what was gnawing at him, but still, he would not give him a straight answer. He only kept singing: "Waves sweep Luoxing Bay," and "The moon is ringed; wind and mist seal the heavens shut." What he wanted was indeed somewhere in the sea. He had read of it in books, seen it named in histories, but had never beheld it with his own eyes. And now, having come this far on a fit of inspiration, why not see it properly, to his heart's content?
What he sought was none other than the legend of the sea: the whale.
On the road back to Inkbound Order, he had happened to hear an old farmer speak of it. Intrigued, he turned around and headed north, chasing the trail of that giant creature.
Lin Xiansheng had read widely since childhood. From The Commentary of Zuo to Li Bai, Du Fu, Han Yu, and Meng Jiao, there was no shortage of lines about whales.
But if one were to speak of who truly understood them, it might well be the fishermen of the coast.
When the wind and waves rose high, they said, that was when whales were easiest to spot. He had wanted to make this trip for a long time.
He wanted to see it. He wanted to see the whale of the poems, the whale of old tales, the whale that had lived in his mind for years. He wanted to see it with his own eyes, alive in the open sea. Even when the fishermen ran after him calling, "Young man, that great fish is dangerous!" it made no difference.
At that age, no one listens to warnings.
A hot, restless thrill surged up from the bottom of his heart, undimmed even by the perilous sea.
He had imagined meeting the whale in a hundred different ways. Passing close beside it, crossing its path, even being swallowed whole into its belly... From all the lines Lin had been muttering to himself, Xiao Heyi finally understood.
"Xiansheng, you're looking for a whale?"
His eyes lit up, even as he kept the oar moving.
"Tell me, what do you think a whale looks like?"
Lin Xiansheng thought it over, then said, "Cui Bao of the Jin writes in Records of Past and Present that the great whales run a thousand li in length, and even the smaller ones measure in the thousands of zhang. They pound the waves into thunder and fling up spray like rain. All creatures of the deep fear them, and no fish dares stand in their path."
"Ren Fang of the Liang also writes in Records of Strange Things that the pearls of the southern sea are the pupils of whales' eyes. They shine at night, and so are called night-bright pearls."
Lin Xiansheng paused, then went on, "They say that once you've heard true thunder, a drum sounds shabby; once you've seen a great whale, you know how small a tiny shell really is. But no matter how books describe a whale's form, in the end, you still have to see one with your own eyes."
Xiao Heyi looked out over that boundless sea, then back at his friend at the bow, chanting his way into the storm as though it were leading them onward. And before he knew it, he too had begun to long for the sight of the whale.
Let the thunder roar, let the waves rise, let the rain lash and the wind howl!