Later Biography of the Tao Te Ching: Laozi's Journey to the West

Where did I go after writing the Tao Te Ching? After writing the five thousand words, I pushed the bamboo slip and rode the green ox out of Hangu Pass. He is not going to cultivate immortality, nor is he going to hide from peace and quiet - he is going to find out one thing: whether the "Tao" he wrote exists or not. An eighty-year-old man, a cow, and a volume of unfinished answers. Behind him are the fireworks sent by Yi happy on his knees, and in front of him is the vast Western Region. This time, you walked into the legend. He walked into the Hexi Corridor and cured the plague of a shepherd with a handful of soil. He was worshiped as a living Buddha, but he waved his hand and said, "I just handed him a bowl of water." But he never said he was right. He taught young people to plant trees, taught craftsmen to make iron, and taught kings to abdicate. With each person he helped, he became less "human" - his skin became more transparent, his steps became lighter, and in the end, not even a green cow could step on his shadow. The end point is not Kunlun Mountain, nor is it the Western Sky. It was when he finally understood that "Tao" can never be said or transmitted, but only grows in each person's heart, that he turned into the wind, the river, and a song casually hummed by the children on the roadside. Some say he is dead. Some people say he went back to heaven. Only those who have been inspired by him know: I haven't gone anywhere. He just no longer uses a body to occupy the space in this world.