I am Shen Yan. Other people live one lifetime; I have lived for seven hundred years.
During the reign of Emperor Yizong of Tang, a Taoist priest found me in a ravine on Mount Hua and took me home. His name was Chen Xuanwei, and everyone under heaven said he could divine the Mandate of Heaven. He taught me for eighty-two years: how to heal, read faces, and read the skies. But there was one art he refused to teach me, even on pain of death: divination.
He said, “If you can divine the future, you’ll know how things end. Once you know, you won’t be willing to leave.”
Later, I didn’t listen.
On the third day of the first month of the seventh year of Xiande, at Chenqiao Post Station, I stood among the troops and pointed at the sky. “There is another sun beneath the sun. This is the Mandate of Heaven.” The history books recorded only four words: “A certain officer spoke.”
After that day, I saw eighteen emperors off.
I saw Taizu’s wine cup, Zhenzong’s heavenly book, and Huizong’s stones of Genyue. I saved Su Shi, but could not save Yue Fei. I defended Xiangfan, but could not hold Yashan.
I cannot change a dynasty. I can only remember every person’s name.
My master waited for me on the mountain for over five hundred years. He came down twelve times, giving me a portion of his own lifespan each time. Even when he died, he never told me where I came from.
Someone asked me, “Are you a scholar of Song history?”
I’m not a scholar. I was there.
