During the reign of King Mu of Zhou, a person from the westernmost country came to visit; he could enter water and fire, and penetrate metal and stone. He could reverse mountains and rivers, and move cities and towns; He could ride on emptiness without falling, and touch solid objects without being harmed. He underwent ten thousand transformations and changes, which were inexhaustible and boundless. Having already changed the forms of objects, he could also alter people's thoughts and minds. King Mu revered him as a deity and treated him as a ruler. He provided for him the royal sleeping quarters, presented to him three sacrificial animals as offerings, and selected female musicians to entertain him. The transformed being considered King Mu's palace humble and unfit to dwell in, the king's food foul and infested with insects and thus unfit to eat, and the king's concubines smelly and repulsive and thus unfit to be close to. King Mu then built for him a new palace. The labor of earth and wood. The color of ochre and white plaster was applied without leaving any flaw; no artistry was left unexhibited. Five granaries were emptied, and only then was the terrace completed. It rose a thousand ren in height, overlooking the southern end of the capital, and was named Zhongtian Zhi Tai, or "The Terrace of Mid-Heaven." They selected young maidens from the states of Zheng and Wei, who were graceful and delicate, applied fragrant cosmetics, arched their eyebrows neatly, adorned themselves with hairpins and earrings, and dressed in fine Axī silk. They wore flowing robes of Qi-made satin. They powdered their faces white and darkened their eyebrows, wearing jade pendants and rings. They filled the place with fragrant zhi and ru, and played the musical pieces "Chengyun," "Liuying," "Jiu Shao," and "Chen Lu" to entertain them. They presented robes of jade every month, and recommended food made from jade every day. The transformed being still seemed dissatisfied, but eventually came to visit them. After staying for only a short while, he paid homage to the king and traveled with him together. King Mu took hold of the transformed being's sleeve, and they ascended upward until they stopped at the middle of heaven. They arrived at the palace of the transformed being. The transformed being's palace was constructed with gold and silver, adorned with pearls and jade; It rose above the clouds and rain, so high that one could not see its base, appearing like a dense mass of clouds when viewed from below. What the eyes saw and ears heard, what the nose inhaled and mouth tasted, were all unlike anything found among mortals. King Mu truly believed it to be Qingdu, Zwei, Juntian, Guangle—the abode of the Emperor. Looking down from above, King Mu saw that his own palaces and pavilions appeared like heaps of rubble and piles of dry grass. King Mu had lived there for several decades without thinking about his kingdom at all. The transformed being once again paid homage to King Mu and traveled with him, and wherever they went, looking up one could not see the sun or moon, and looking down one could not see rivers or seas. The light and shadows illuminated everything so intensely that King Mu became dazzled and unable to see clearly; The sounds coming from all directions confused King Mu's ears, leaving him unable to discern them. All his bones and internal organs trembled and could not remain steady. His mind was bewildered and his spirit lost, so he pleaded with the transformed being to take him back. The transformed being transported him back, and King Mu felt as if he had fallen from emptiness. When he awoke, the place where he sat was still the same as before, and his attendants were still the same people as before. Looking ahead, the wine had not yet settled, and the dishes had not yet grown cold. King Mu asked where he had come from. His attendants replied, "Your Majesty was merely absent-minded." Because of this, King Mu lost himself for three months before recovering. He then asked again about the transformed being. The transformed being said, "I traveled with Your Majesty in spirit; how could my body have moved?" Moreover, what was the difference between where I dwelled before and Your Majesty's palace? And as for my previous travels, how were they different from Your Majesty's gardens? King Mu often suspected that he had momentarily vanished. The extremes of transformation, the intervals between slow and rapid change—can they ever be fully imitated? King Mu was greatly pleased. He no longer concerned himself with state affairs, nor did he take pleasure in his ministers and concubines; instead, he indulged freely in distant travels. He ordered his chariot drawn by the Eight Steeds: on the right side of the central pair were Huajiao and Lu'er, while on the left were Chiji and Baiyuan. The main carriage was driven by Zhao Fu with Yizhong as the attendant to the right. For the secondary carriage, the right front horse was Quhuang and the left front was Yu Lun; the left rear horse was Daoli and the right rear was Shanzi. The secondary carriage was led by Bai Tian, with Canbai as the driver and Bunong as the attendant on the right. They drove a thousand li in haste until they arrived at the country of Jusou Shi. The ruler of Jusoushi then presented the blood of a white crane for King Mu to drink, and provided fresh milk from cows and horses to wash King Mu's feet as well as those of the two charioteers. After drinking, they continued their journey and spent the night at the foot of Kunlun Mountain, on the southern bank of the Chishui River. On another day they ascended to a place on Kunlun Mountain, to view the palace of Huangdi and then sealed it as a legacy for future generations. They then became guests of the Queen Mother of Heaven and were entertained with wine at the Pool of Jade. The Queen Mother of Heaven sang a song for King Mu, who responded in harmony; their words were sorrowful and moving. They then observed the place where the sun set, realizing that it traveled ten thousand li in a single day. King Mu sighed and said, "Ah! I, as a single ruler, have not been sufficient in virtue yet indulged in pleasure; will future generations count and follow my mistakes?" How like a divine being was King Mu! King Mu could fully indulge in the pleasures of his lifetime, yet it still took a hundred years for him to pass away; the world regarded this as an ascent to immortality. 

Lao Chengzi studied illusion under Master Yin Wen, but after three years, he was not told anything. Lao Chengzi asked for an explanation of his faults and requested to withdraw. Master Yin Wen bowed and led Lao Chengzi into the room, dismissed those around them, and said to him: "In the past, when Lao Dan traveled westward, he looked back and told me: 'The breath of life, the forms and appearances of things—all are illusions.' What originates from creation and transformation, what is changed by yin and yang—that is called life, that is called death. To comprehend the patterns of existence and grasp transformation, to shift with changing forms—that is called change, that is called illusion. The creator's artistry is subtle, his work profound—truly difficult to exhaust or bring to an end. Those who follow forms display their skill prominently. Their work is shallow, so whatever arises vanishes just as quickly. Only when one understands that illusion and transformation are no different from life and death can they be taught the art of illusion. "You and I are also illusions; what is there to learn?" Lao Chengzi returned, reflected deeply on Master Yin Wen's words for three months, and thus came to master the ability to control life and death at will, and could manipulate the four seasons as he pleased; he could summon thunder in winter and create ice in summer; things that flew became things that ran, and things that ran became things that flew. He never recorded his techniques in writing throughout his life; thus, the world has no record of them. Zi Liezi said: "Those who are skilled in transformation practice a subtle and ordinary path, and their achievements blend with those of common people. The virtue of the Five Emperors, the accomplishments of the Three Kings—these were not necessarily entirely achieved through wisdom and valor; some may have been realized through transformation. Who can truly fathom this?!"

There are eight signs of wakefulness, and six omens of dreaming. What are the Eight Signs? One is "gu" (habit), two is "wei" (action), three is "de" (gain), four is "sang" (loss), five is "ai" (grief), six is "le" (joy), seven is "sheng" (life), eight is "si" (death). These Eight Signs are what the physical form encounters. What are the Six Omens? One is Zhengmeng (the upright dream), two is Yumeng (the confused dream), three is Simeng (the thinking dream), four is Wumeng (the waking dream), five is Ximeng (the joyful dream), six is Jumeng (the fearful dream). These six are what the spirit experiences. Those who do not understand the origin of emotional and transformative changes will be confused when events occur, unsure of their causes; those who recognize where such changes arise from will know the reasons behind them when events happen. Knowing the reason behind things means there is nothing to be perplexed about. The waxing and waning, increase and decrease of a single entity are all connected with heaven and earth, corresponding to the categories of things in the world. Therefore, when yin energy is strong, one dreams of crossing great waters and feels fear; When yang energy is strong, one dreams of walking through a great fire and being burned; When both yin and yang energies are strong, one dreams of life and death. If one is very full after eating, they dream of giving; if extremely hungry, they dream of taking. Therefore, those who suffer from a floating and empty condition in their illness dream of rising upward; Those who suffer from a sinking and solid condition in their illness dream of drowning. Sleeping with a belt tied around the waist causes one to dream of snakes; If a flying bird carries away one's hair, one dreams of flying. Before falling ill with yin-related ailments, one dreams of fire; before becoming seriously ill, one dreams of eating. Those who drink wine may dream of sorrow; those who sing and dance may dream of weeping. Zi Liezi said: "When the spirit meets something, it becomes a dream; when the body encounters something, it becomes an event." Therefore, thoughts during the day become dreams at night—what the spirit and form encounter. Thus, when the spirit is focused and undisturbed, imagined dreams naturally vanish. To trust wakefulness without speaking, to trust dreaming without understanding—that is the coming and going of transformation among things. The sages of old, when awake, forgot themselves; when sleeping, they did not dream—how nearly empty and true were their words?" 1. 怛 : Originally read: "□". 底本該字不完整，據《正統道臧》本補。

To the southern corner of the westernmost region there was a country, whose borders could not be determined; it was called Gumang Guo. The yin and yang energies did not intermingle there, so there was no distinction between cold and heat; The light of the sun and moon did not reach it, so there was no distinction between day and night. Its people neither ate nor wore clothes but slept a great deal. They would sleep for fifty days and then wake up once, regarding what they had done in their dreams as real, and what they saw when awake as illusory. The four seas called the central country "Zhongyang Zhi Guo," which spanned north and south of the Yellow River, east and west across Mount Dai, covering more than ten thousand li. Its careful regulation of yin and yang resulted in alternating cold and heat; Its clear discernment between dusk and dawn resulted in the alternation of day and night. Its people had both wisdom and foolishness. All things flourished, and there were many talents and skills in various fields. There were rulers and ministers governing together, with rites and laws upholding order. What they did could not be counted or described. They alternated between waking and sleeping, regarding what was done while awake as real, and what was seen in dreams as illusory. To the northern corner of the easternmost region there was a country called Fulu Guo. The air and climate of its land were always warm; the lingering light of the sun and moon illuminated it, yet no good crops grew there. Its people ate roots of grass and fruits from water plants, and did not know how to cook food with fire. Their nature was fierce and bold; the strong and weak relied on each other, valuing victory but not upholding righteousness; They moved about quickly, resting little, always awake and never sleeping.

The Yishi family of the Zhou dynasty greatly expanded their wealth; those who served them in labor rushed about from early morning until dusk without rest. There was an old laborer whose strength had been exhausted, yet he was made to work even more diligently. During the day he groaned and went about his tasks, and at night he became drowsy and fell into a deep sleep. His spirit was weary and scattered, so that every night he dreamed of being a ruler of a state. He dwelled above the people, overseeing all affairs of the entire country. He roamed through palaces and pavilions at leisure, indulging in whatever he desired; his joy was immeasurable. When awake, he returned to his labor. Someone comforted the laborer for his diligence, and the laborer said: "A person's life spans a hundred years, with day and night each taking up half. I spend my days as a servant or slave, which is indeed bitter; At night I become a ruler, and the joy is immeasurable. What have I to complain about?" The Yishi family was preoccupied with worldly affairs, deeply concerned about their family's legacy; both mind and body were exhausted, so at night they too became drowsy and slept. Every night he dreamed of being a servant, running about and performing labor, doing everything without exception; He was frequently scolded and beaten with sticks—there was no punishment that did not come to him. While asleep, he muttered and groaned in his sleep, until the breath left his body entirely. The Yishi family became ill from this, and consulted their friend about it. The friend said: "Your position is sufficient to bring honor to your person, and your wealth is more than enough; you are far superior to others. To dream at night of being a servant is the recurrence of hardship and ease, a common cycle in numbers. If you wish to have both wakefulness and dreams combined, could that possibly be achieved?" The Yishi family heard their friend's words, relaxed the workload of their laborers, and reduced their own burdens of thought; as a result, their illness gradually improved.

Ein Mann aus Zheng, der in der Wildnis Holz sammelte, traf auf ein aufgeschrecktes Reh; er jagte es und schlug es nieder, wobei er es tötete. Aus Angst, dass andere es sehen könnten, versteckte er das Reh schnell in einem Graben, bedeckte es mit Bananenblättern und war überglücklich. Kurz darauf vergaß er, wo er es versteckt hatte, und so glaubte er, die ganze Sache sei ein Traum gewesen. Er ging singend über das Ereignis die Straße entlang. Ein Passant, der davon hörte, nutzte seine Worte, um das Reh zu finden und mitzunehmen. Wieder zu Hause angekommen, sagte er zu seiner Frau: „Zuvor träumte der Holzfäller, ein Reh gefangen zu haben, wusste aber nicht, wo es war; ich habe es jetzt gefunden – dann hat er wirklich nur geträumt.“ Seine Frau sagte: „Willst du behaupten, dass der Träumer den Holzfäller ein Reh fangen sah? „Gab es wirklich einen solchen Holzfäller?“ „Jetzt, da du das Reh wirklich gefunden hast, ist dann dein Traum real?“ Der Mann sagte: „Ich habe das Reh in meinem Besitz; was brauche ich zu wissen, ob es sein Traum oder meiner war?“ Als der Holzfäller nach Hause zurückkehrte, hörte er nicht auf, den Verlust des Rehs zu beklagen; in dieser Nacht träumte er wirklich von dem Ort, wo er es versteckt hatte, und träumte auch von dem, der es gefunden hatte. Im Morgengrauen, dem Geträumten folgend, suchte er danach und fand es. Sie stritten sich dann darüber und trugen die Sache einem Richter vor. Der Richter sagte: „Wenn du das Reh zuerst wirklich gefunden hast, es aber einen Traum nanntest; Wirklich davon geträumt zu haben, das Reh zu bekommen und fälschlicherweise behauptet zu haben, es sei Realität – Derjenige, der dein Reh tatsächlich genommen hat, streitet sich nun mit dir darüber. Seine Frau sagte weiter: „Ihr beide habt behauptet, vom Reh des anderen geträumt zu haben; in Wahrheit hat niemand das Reh tatsächlich bekommen.“ Da ihr beide nun den Besitz dieses Rehs beansprucht, teilt es bitte gleichmäßig unter euch beiden auf.“ Der Fall wurde Herzog Zheng gemeldet. Herzog Zheng sagte: „Ach! Wird der Richter das Reh eines anderen Mannes nach Träumen aufteilen?“ Der Fall wurde an den Premierminister des Staates verwiesen. Der Premierminister sagte: „Ob etwas ein Traum ist oder nicht, kann ich nicht bestimmen. Um zwischen Wachsein und Träumen zu unterscheiden, sind nur Huangdi und Kong Qiu fähig. Nun, da Huangdi und Kong Qiu verstorben sind, wer kann es bestimmen?“ Und vorerst könnt ihr der Entscheidung des Richters folgen.“

In Song Yangli gab es einen Mann namens Huazi, der in seinen mittleren Jahren an Vergesslichkeit erkrankte; er nahm morgens etwas und vergaß es abends, und gab abends etwas, nur um es morgens zu vergessen. Wenn er auf der Straße ging, vergaß er, wie man geht; wenn er zu Hause saß, vergaß er, dass er saß; Er erkannte nicht, was vorher geschehen war, und konnte nicht wissen, was gerade geschah. Der ganze Haushalt war ihretwegen in Not. Er befragte einen Wahrsager, aber es konnte kein Orakel gelesen werden; Er besuchte einen Schamanen und betete um Linderung, aber der Zustand wurde nicht gestoppt; Er befragte Ärzte und unterzog sich einer Behandlung, aber die Krankheit hörte nicht auf. Es gab einen konfuzianischen Gelehrten aus Lu, der freiwillig behauptete, ihn heilen zu können; die Frau und die Kinder von Huazi boten die Hälfte ihres Eigentums im Tausch für sein Heilmittel an. Der konfuzianische Gelehrte sagte: „Diese Krankheit ist sicherlich nichts, was durch Hexagramme vorhergesagt, noch durch Gebete oder Opfer geheilt, noch mit Medizin oder Steinen behandelt werden kann. Ich werde versuchen, seinen Geist zu verwandeln und seine Gedanken zu ändern; vielleicht wird er dann genesen!“ Zuerst setzte er ihn der Kälte aus und beobachtete, wie er nach Kleidung suchte; dann ließ er ihn hungern, damit er nach Nahrung suchen würde; Dann versetzte er ihn in Dunkelheit, was ihn dazu veranlasste, nach Licht zu suchen. Der konfuzianische Gelehrte sagte seinem Sohn hocherfreut: „Seine Krankheit kann geheilt werden. Doch meine Methode ist ein streng gehütetes Geheimnis, das über Generationen weitergegeben wurde, und ich teile es nicht mit anderen.“ „Bitte entfernen Sie alle aus dem Raum; lassen Sie ihn sieben Tage lang allein in dieser Kammer bleiben.“ Sie befolgten seine Anweisungen. Niemand wusste, was er tat, doch die Krankheit, die ihn viele Jahre geplagt hatte, war an einem einzigen Tag vollständig geheilt. Nachdem Huazi wieder zu Sinnen gekommen war, geriet er in große Wut; er verstieß seine Frau und bestrafte seine Kinder, nahm eine Hellebarde und jagte den konfuzianischen Gelehrten. Die Leute von Song verhafteten ihn und baten um eine Erklärung dessen, was geschehen war. Huazi sagte: „In der Vergangenheit, als ich vergesslich war, war mein Geist leer und unbewusst, ob Himmel und Erde existierten oder nicht. Jetzt, da ich mich plötzlich erinnere, sind die vergangenen Jahrzehnte zurückgekehrt – Erinnerungen an Leben und Tod, Gewinne und Verluste, Trauer und Freude, Liebe und Hass – unzählige Gedanken entstehen in Verwirrung. Ich fürchte, dass das Chaos von Leben und Tod, Gewinn und Verlust, Trauer und Freude, Liebe und Hass in den kommenden Jahren meinen Geist genauso stören wird wie jetzt. Kann ich diesen Zustand der Vergesslichkeit nicht für einen Moment wiedererlangen?“ Zigong hörte davon und fand es seltsam, also berichtete er es Konfuzius. Konfuzius sagte: „Das ist jenseits deines Verständnisses!“ Er drehte sich um und bat Yan Hui, es aufzuschreiben.

Ein Mann aus dem Staat Qin namens Peng hatte einen Sohn, der in jungen Jahren intelligent war, aber als er älter wurde, entwickelte er eine Krankheit der Verwirrung und Verblüffung. Er hörte Gesang und hielt es für Weinen, sah Weiß als Schwarz, roch Duft, hielt ihn aber für verrottet, empfand Süßes als bitter und hielt Falsches für richtig. Wohin auch immer sein Geist wanderte, alle Dinge – Himmel, Erde, Richtungen, Wasser, Feuer, Kälte und Hitze – waren verdreht und verwirrt. Yang Shi sagte seinem Vater: „Es gibt viele gelehrte Männer in Lu, die Fähigkeiten und Künste besitzen; vielleicht können sie ihn heilen?“ Warum befragst du sie nicht? Sein Vater ging nach Lu, kam durch Chen und traf Lao Dan. Er informierte ihn dann über den Zustand seines Sohnes. Lao Dan sagte: „Woher weißt du, dass dein Sohn verwirrt ist?“ Alle Menschen von heute sind verwirrt von Richtig und Falsch und geblendet von Gewinnen und Verlusten. Viele leiden unter derselben Krankheit; daher ist niemand wirklich dessen bewusst. Die Verwirrung einer Person reicht nicht aus, um eine ganze Familie zu erschüttern; die Verwirrung einer Familie reicht nicht aus, um ein ganzes Dorf umzustürzen; die Verwirrung eines Dorfes reicht nicht aus, um einen ganzen Staat zu stürzen; die Verwirrung eines Staates reicht nicht aus, um die ganze Welt zu destabilisieren; Wenn alles unter dem Himmel in Verwirrung verloren ist, wer könnte dann das Gleichgewicht kippen? Angenommen, alle Menschen auf der Welt wären so verwirrt wie dein Sohn – wenn das der Fall wäre, wärst du selbst derjenige, der in Verwirrung verloren ist. Wer könnte wohl bestimmen, was richtig oder falsch ist inmitten von Trauer und Freude, Klängen und Farben, Düften und Geschmäckern? Außerdem mögen meine eigenen Worte nicht frei von Verwirrung sein; wie viel weniger die gelehrten Männer von Lu, die lediglich Boten der Verwirrung sind – wie könnten sie die Verwirrung eines anderen vertreiben? Verschwende deine Vorräte nicht zu meinen Ehren; es wäre besser für dich, schnell zurückzukehren.“

Ein Mann, in Yan geboren, in Chu aufgewachsen, kehrte in seinem Alter in sein Heimatland zurück. Er reiste durch den Staat Jin, und ein Reisegefährte täuschte ihn, indem er auf eine Stadt zeigte und sagte: „Das ist die Stadt Yan.“ Der Mann wurde bleich und sein Gesichtsausdruck änderte sich. Er zeigte auf einen Schrein und sagte: „Das ist der Ahnenschrein deiner Heimat.“ Der Mann seufzte tief. Er zeigte auf ein Haus und sagte: „Das ist das Haus deiner Vorfahren.“ Der Mann weinte leise. Er zeigte auf einen Hügel und sagte: „Das ist der Grabhügel deiner Vorfahren.“ Der Mann konnte sein Weinen nicht zurückhalten. Der Reisegefährte brach in ein lautes Lachen aus und sagte: „Ich habe dich vorhin getäuscht; das ist nur der Staat Jin.“ Der Mann schämte sich sehr. Als er schließlich in Yan ankam und die echte Stadt und den Ahnenschrein des Staates Yan sah und wirklich das Haus und die Grabhügel seiner Vorfahren erblickte, war seine Trauer stark gemindert.