Wang Shusheng, the seventh son of a family in a county town, whose ancestors had served as officials for generations, yearned for the Daoist arts from his youth. Hearing that Mount Lao was home to many immortals, he packed his belongings and set off to pay them a visit.

He arrived at a mountaintop where he found a Daoist temple, supremely tranquil and secluded. Pushing open the door to the main hall, he saw a Daoist priest seated on a cushion, his hair entirely white, his eyes piercingly bright, possessing an extraordinary aura.

He approached and began a conversation. The Daoist, whose mind contained hidden depths, explained the principles of the Yi (I Ching), speaking eloquently and profoundly. The scholar was overjoyed and begged the Daoist to accept him as a disciple. The Daoist chuckled, "Benefactor, you are accustomed to comfort. Can you endure hardship?"

Shusheng replied earnestly, "I can endure hardship, I truly can." The Daoist said no more.

As evening fell, the Daoist’s disciples gathered in the main hall. He commanded Shusheng to kowtow to each of them in turn, saying, "These are all your senior brothers. From this day forward, you shall remain in the temple."

The next morning, the Daoist summoned Shusheng, handed him an iron axe, and instructed him to join his brothers in chopping firewood on the mountain. Shusheng meekly accepted the order. More than a month passed this way. Shusheng chopped wood daily, his hands and feet developing calluses, utterly exhausted by the labor, and he secretly began contemplating leaving.

One evening, returning from chopping wood, Shusheng glimpsed two acquaintances of the Daoist inside the temple, drinking with their master. Dusk had settled, and no lamps or candles were lit in the hall, the surroundings gradually darkening.

The Daoist produced a pair of scissors and used them to cut paper, crafting a perfect, bright mirror, which he pasted onto the wall.

Presently, a soft radiance emanated from the paper mirror. The bright moonlight flooded the windows, illuminating the entire room so clearly that not a single strand of hair was obscured. Within, he saw all the disciples bustling about, serving with reverent expressions.

One guest remarked, "Such a beautiful night, it is better to share joy than to enjoy it alone." With that, he lightly picked up the wine ewer from the table, distributed the contents among the disciples, and urged them, "Drink to your heart's content, do not be reserved; you must drink until you are completely satisfied."

Wang Shusheng thought to himself, "Seven or eight people, how can one pot of wine be enough?"

The disciples each sought a wine cup, scrambling for the wine, fearful that there would not be enough. Yet, strangely, as they drank cup after cup quickly, the wine in the ewer remained full, never seeming to diminish.

Soon after, another guest stated, "Though the moonlight shines brightly, it is lonely to drink alone. Let us summon Chang'e to keep us company." He then tossed a chopstick he held toward the bright moon. Suddenly, a beautiful woman stepped out from the moon. She was no more than a foot tall, but as her feet touched the ground, her body rapidly grew, gradually reaching the height of an ordinary person.

The beauty swayed her slender waist, gracefully performing the dance of the feathered robes, singing as she danced, "Immortal, Immortal! Are you leaving alone? Why have you confined me to the Guanghan Palace?" (，？！)

Her voice was clear and pure, like a flute being played. When the song finished, the beauty circled and leaped onto the tabletop. As the disciples watched in astonishment, the beauty transformed into a bamboo chopstick.

The Daoist and his friend burst into laughter. The other guest said, "The banquet is delightful, but we cannot hold our liquor for long. How about we all go to the Moon Palace for a parting drink?"

As the words fell, the three figures moved their seats and gradually entered the moon. The disciples looked up, observing their master and friends sitting serenely within the moon, drinking together. Their beards and mustaches were perfectly visible, just as if reflected in a mirror; every movement was clearly distinct.

After a while, the moonlight dimmed. One of the attendants lit a candle. In the candlelight, they saw the Daoist sitting alone at the table; the two guests had vanished without a trace. The table was littered with messy cups and plates, and the bright moon on the wall had reverted to its original form—nothing more than a piece of cut paper.

The Daoist asked the disciples, "Have you drunk enough?"

The disciples replied, "Yes."

The Daoist commanded, "Then all of you go back to sleep and do not delay your firewood chopping tomorrow morning." Hearing this, the disciples retired one by one.

Having witnessed such celestial artistry firsthand, Shusheng was filled with admiration and excitement. Without a second thought, he abandoned all notions of returning home.

Another month flew by. Shusheng continued to chop and split wood daily, the suffering becoming unbearable. Moreover, the Daoist had not taught him a single technique. Unable to hold back his frustration, he went to bid farewell to his master, saying, "Disciple traveled hundreds of miles to seek tutelage in the Dao. Even if I cannot learn the art of eternal life, you should at least teach me one minor divine skill. Yet, in these past tens of days, I have done nothing but climb the mountain to chop wood or go to bed. When I was at home, I truly never suffered like this."

The Daoist smiled, "I told you long ago that you could not endure hardship, and as expected, you cannot. You may return tomorrow."

Shusheng pleaded, "Disciple has labored for many days; even without merit, there is hardship. I beg Master's mercy and ask that you teach me one Daoist technique, so this journey is not in vain."

The Daoist asked, "What technique do you wish to learn?"

Shusheng replied, "Whenever I see Master walk, you pass through walls as if walking on level ground. I only ask that you teach me this skill; that will satisfy my heart's desire."

The Daoist said, "You wish to learn the Wall-Penetrating Art? Very well, I shall teach you now." He immediately imparted the incantation and instructed Shusheng to recite the mantra while pointing at a wall, saying, "Try to enter."

Shusheng followed the instructions, but the wall blocked him; he could not pass through.

The Daoist instructed, "Lower your head and advance swiftly; do not hesitate."

Shusheng nodded, backed up several feet from the wall, charged forward like an arrow, and passed right through. He felt the wall was as insubstantial as nothingness. Looking back, he saw he was standing outside the wall.

Shusheng was overjoyed. He went inside to thank his master. The Daoist warned him, "When you return home, you must keep your conduct pure and upright, or the technique will fail." He bestowed travel money upon Shusheng and sent him back to his hometown.

When Shusheng returned to his residence, he boasted to his wife, "I know immortal arts; passing through walls requires no effort." His wife shook her head, disbelieving. Shusheng decided to give a demonstration. He walked to the side of a wall, sprinted toward it, intending to pass through, when suddenly there was a loud bang! Shusheng’s head struck the solid wall, followed by a miserable cry as he tumbled to the ground.

His wife helped Shusheng up to look at him. She saw a lump the size of an egg swelling on his forehead and couldn't help but giggle. Shusheng’s face flushed deep red, utterly mortified, and he cursed his master with hatred, "This old Daoist, he clearly had ill intentions; he is truly a terrible man."