During the Qing Dynasty, there was a scholar named Song Tao who had participated in the Imperial Examinations numerous times, only to repeatedly fail, leading to a decline in health due to melancholy.

One day, as Song Tao lay ill in bed, the door suddenly burst open. A man resembling a yamen runner entered, leading a white horse, and announced, "Scholar Song, please come with me to take the examination."

Song Tao looked confused and hesitated, "The examination period is still far off, and the chief examiner hasn't even taken office. What test am I supposed to take?"

The yamen runner grew impatient. "Just go where you're told! Why so much nonsense!"

Seeing the runner's fierce expression, Song Tao dared not argue and had no choice but to follow him out. The runner pointed at the white horse and commanded, "Get on."

Song Tao shook his head. "I don't know how to ride. I’m afraid I’ll fall."

The runner replied, "With me right here to look after you, how could you fall? Rest assured, completely." Before he finished speaking, he seized Song Tao by the collar and tossed him onto the horse's back, then brought his palm down heavily on the horse's rump. The white horse cried out in pain and bolted away like a gale, lightning fast.

The yamen runner smiled faintly, his steps shifting subtly, following behind at an unhurried pace. The horse galloped onward, kicking up swirling dust wherever it passed, like a fierce whirlwind, moving with incredible speed—dozens of li in an instant.

Yet, the runner merely strolled, his manner elegant, walking as if there were no difference from any ordinary person. Strangely, no matter how fast the white horse ran, it could never escape the runner's pursuit. Man and horse maintained a distance of exactly four feet and eight inches—not an inch more, not an inch less.

Song Tao observed this and nodded inwardly. "Shrinking the ground to an inch—this yamen runner is no ordinary mortal."

While lost in thought, the white horse neighed and halted beneath a city wall. Song Tao opened his eyes to survey the scene, seeing a wall so tall and sturdy that he thought, What a towering wall! At least nine zhang high, fully twice the height of the Forbidden City.

The yamen runner led the horse by the reins, entering the street through the East Gate. Song Tao gazed ahead and saw a street perfectly straight and wide, paved entirely with white marble, wide enough for eight carriages to pass abreast. On both sides stood rows of taverns and shops. People bustled between them, every one adorned in fine silks and jade belts, spirits high—truly a splendid city of prosperity and wealth, far surpassing the capital.

Song Tao was dumbfounded, filled with envy. In his daze, he was led into a yamen office. The runner whispered, "This is a sacred place for immortals. Within a hundred meter radius, no one may ride horses or travel by sedan chair. Dismount quickly."

Song Tao dismounted as instructed. The runner led the way and ushered him into the main hall. The hall was filled with tables and chairs carved with intricate patterns, all made from precious Zitan wood.

Seated in the center of the grand hall were about a dozen officials, all unfamiliar faces to Song Tao, whom he mostly did not recognize. Only one, the God of Might, possessed phoenix eyes, silkworm eyebrows, and a two-foot-long beard cascading below his chin. His expression was stern, commanding respect without anger—it was instantly recognizable: Guan Yu, the Second Lord Guan.

Guan Yu looked at Song Tao, nodded with a smile, and pointed to a pair of tables and chairs on the left side of the hall, saying, "Sit."

Song Tao obeyed and sat down. On the table before him lay sheets of Xuan paper. To his left was a bamboo cylinder containing several writing brushes; to his right, an inkstone filled with rich, fragrant ink—the finest tribute quality: Ziyu Guangmo (Purple Jade Luminous Ink).

Opposite Song Tao was another pair of tables and chairs, occupied by a young scholar in white robes, about thirty years old, with a fair complexion—a remarkably handsome man.

Guan Yu pointed to the scholar in white and introduced him, "This is Scholar Zhang of Changshan. You are both scholars; foster a closer relationship."

Song Tao cupped his hands. "Brother Zhang, I am Song Tao. Greetings."

Scholar Zhang hastily returned the courtesy. "I dare not presume. May I ask if Brother Song is the scholar from the 28th year of Kangxi?"

Song Tao nodded. "Indeed. Ah, how the years fly by. Twenty-four years have passed in a blink. Twenty-four years ago, I was a scholar; twenty-four years later, I am still a scholar. I take the exams every year and fail every year. You must excuse my embarrassment, Brother Zhang." He finished with a sigh.

Scholar Zhang sighed in return. "We are fellow sufferers. My situation is not much better than yours, Brother Song. I have taken the Imperial Examinations six times since the 37th year of Kangxi, and I’ve only managed to achieve the rank of Xiucai (Tribute Scholar). Who knows when I'll pass the provincial exam."

Both men were talented but unrecognized. Sharing their frustrations, they gradually developed a sense of mutual understanding.

Suddenly, a cough sounded, and an Immortal on the dais spoke, "Gentlemen, there is no need for sighs and lamentations. Xuan Ye, that little brat, lacks vision and cannot recognize talent. I will restore justice for you. Listen closely: I will pose a single question. You both have the time it takes for one stick of incense to compose an essay. Those who pass will receive a reward from me."

Both Song and Zhang glared furiously and spoke in unison, "Bold! His Majesty is the true Son of Heaven; you must not speak disrespectfully of the Emperor!"

The Immortal chuckled. "How have I been disrespectful?"

Song Tao retorted, "Calling His Majesty a 'little brat' is disrespectful."

The Immortal said, "Do you know who I am? How old am I? I am the Thunder Emperor of the Nine Heavens, having lived eighty-eight thousand years. At my age, what is wrong with calling Kangxi a mere youngster? Enough idle chatter. Hear the topic."

Both Song and Zhang then relaxed and spoke together, "Please give us the topic."

The Thunder Emperor declared, "One person, two people; with intent, without intent. This is my question."

Scholar Zhang smiled. "This topic is simple. I do not need a full stick of incense to write the essay; half a stick will suffice."

Song Tao said, "I can finish this in a quarter of a stick of incense."

Both were confident and picked up their brushes, writing with lightning speed. In moments, they had finished their essays and presented them.

The Thunder Emperor took the papers and reviewed them, praising, "Both essays are very well done, but Song Tao's is especially exquisite. Particularly this line: 'To do good with intent yields no reward; to commit evil without intent incurs no punishment.' Beautifully written, truly beautiful."

After a pause, he announced loudly, "Song Tao, receive your appointment: I name you the City God of Henan, responsible for the life and death of mortals, rewarding the good and punishing the wicked. Take up your post immediately."

Song Tao shook his head. "Thank you for the promotion, Celestial Immortal, but my humble home has a seventy-year-old mother to attend to. While my parents are alive, I dare not travel far. I must respectfully decline."

The Thunder Emperor nodded and instructed, "Attendants, bring forth the Book of Life and Death. Look up how many years of life Song Tao's mother has remaining."

Immediately, attendants consulted the book and reported, "Reporting to the Heavenly Venerable, Song Tao's birth mother, Madam Zhang, has nine years of longevity remaining."

The Thunder Emperor nodded. "I see." He looked at Song Tao and smiled, "Young man, you have great filial piety, very commendable. How about this: I will reserve the position of City God for you. Scholar Zhang will take your place temporarily. After nine years, when your mother passes away, you may then go to Henan to take office. Are there any objections to this arrangement?"

Song Tao's face lit up with joy. "Thank you, thank you."

The Thunder Emperor looked at Scholar Zhang and smiled, "Scholar Zhang, prepare yourself; you must depart now." As he said this, he pulled a small bamboo horse from his sleeve and presented it, saying, "This horse travels a thousand li a day, chasing the wind and lightning. I bestow it upon you as your conveyance."

Scholar Zhang scratched his head, bewildered. "This bamboo horse is only a few inches long; it would shatter if squeezed. How can one ride it?"

The Thunder Emperor laughed heartily. "Try blowing a breath onto its back."

Scholar Zhang did as he was told and blew. Suddenly, there was a neigh, and the room was enveloped in golden light. The bamboo horse swelled rapidly against the breath, transforming into a real, flesh-and-blood magnificent steed: tall, long-legged, well-fed, and sleek, its entire body covered in golden-yellow hair, shining brilliantly.

Scholar Zhang was overjoyed, reaching out to stroke the yellow horse's neck, praising it repeatedly, "The bamboo horse is resurrected! How rare, how rare! Such creation, such providence!"

Before he finished speaking, the main hall was empty; the assembled deities had vanished at some unknown point.

Scholar Zhang led the yellow horse and said to Song Tao, "Brother Song, I will go to Henan to take my post first. In nine years, you will replace me. Well, since we met, I have no gift to offer, so allow me to give you a line of poetry: 'Where there are flowers and wine, spring remains forever; without candles or lamps, the night illuminates itself.' I depart now." With that, he mounted the horse and soared into the sky.

Song Tao smiled faintly. Suddenly, his body felt light, like a wisp of green smoke. A gust of wind carried him, and in a flash, he traversed hundreds of li, returning to his lodging.

Upon returning home, Song Tao realized: his soul had departed, and he had been dead for three days. His body lay in a coffin, with his mother weeping beside him.

Without a second thought, he quickly guided his spirit back to its vessel, whoosh, drilling back into the coffin. Just as he was about to push out from within, he suddenly perceived that the coffin lid was tightly sealed and nailed shut with long iron spikes. He was unable to move at all, growing frantic as he punched and kicked, beating against the wood noisily.

His mother, hearing the thunderous sounds from outside, was terrified, yet also joyous. She quickly fetched neighbors for help. Working together, the group exerted immense effort and finally managed to pry open the coffin lid, thus saving Song Tao's life.

Nine years later, Madam Zhang passed away from illness. After Song Tao settled his mother's affairs, he bathed and changed his clothes, lay down in his bed to await death. Soon, his soul separated from his body and drifted lightly outside. He saw servants gathered, and the carriage waiting to escort him to his post had long been standing by.

Song Tao hesitated no longer. He climbed aboard the carriage and departed amidst the clouds.