泾河龙王触犯天条
长安城外泾河边，住着两个有文化却考不上功名的隐士：一个是打鱼的张稍，一个是砍柴的李定。他俩虽没当官，却能吟诗作对，是城外出了名的“文化人”。
这天，两人进城卖了柴和鱼，赚了些银子，就相约去小酒馆喝了几杯。酒意上头，一人提了一壶散步回家，沿着泾河边边走边聊。
张稍一边晃着酒壶，一边感慨道：“你看那些追名逐利的人，一个个费尽心机，到头来不是栽在名利上，就是死在权势下。高官厚禄看着风光，其实是枕着老虎睡觉；受宠的人，像袖里藏蛇，说咬就咬。还不如咱们，清风明月，日子虽苦，心里踏实。”
李定笑着点头：“说得好，不过你那‘水上清风’哪比得过我这‘山中青翠’。”
张稍一听不服：“我那水秀自有诗意，我来吟一首！”说着便唱起一首词，写的是水上人家的自在生活，船头织网、湖心赏月，还有孩子笑声，温馨惬意。
李定也不甘示弱，立马回一首，描绘山中四季轮转，百花争艳、飞鸟啼鸣，采茶砍柴别有乐趣。
张稍再接一句：“你有四季风光，我这河里可有四季美食！”又吟了一首，说水中有鱼虾，岸边采莲藕，烹煮起来山珍海味样样有。
李定乐了：“我山里也不差！野味香椿果子，样样天然。”说着也来一首，讲山中野趣，野菜蘑菇加老母鸡，一样好吃。
就这样你一首我一首，诗词连番上演，一个夸水上船居，一个赞山中草庐，词中你来我往，聊得兴高采烈。
张稍说：“不仅风景美，我这闲时生活也讲究！”又来一首，说自己看白鹤、陪孩子织网、和妻子晒渔网，清风不染，一身自在。
李定也不甘示弱：“我也不赖！读书、下棋、教孩子识字、采花喝酒，穿布衣草鞋，却活得比谁都体面。”再来一首，把山中生活写得如诗如画。
最后两人哈哈大笑：“我们这渔樵生活，虽不金樽玉盏，也能吟诗作对，自得其乐！”于是边走边吟，从打柴卖鱼到烹茶煮酒，从教子持家到朋友聚会，山水之间，自有一番人间风雅。
走着走着，张稍开句：“李兄，你接对子啊——‘风月为伴的山野汉’。”
李定顺口对道：“江湖自傲的老渔翁。”然后两人你一句我一句，一路对下去：
“睡茅屋安心，穿蓑衣自在；
朋友是松树梅花，盟友是鸥鹭飞群；
不听战乱消息，不惦朝廷官职；
顿顿野菜下酒，日子悠闲随性；
春看绿柳，夏摘菱角，秋捕螃蟹肥鸡，冬躺被窝睡懒觉；
一年四季不求奢华，山中湖边各有妙趣；
门前野花香，船头绿水静；
不羡高官厚禄，只求一日三餐有鱼有柴，
这才是乐山乐水的真生活，谢天地，谢神明。”
两人边走边笑，说得正欢，不知不觉走到岔路口，便互道别离。
张稍打趣道：“李兄，进山可当心点儿，别被老虎叼了去，到时候街头少了老朋友，多可惜。”
李定一听就不乐意了：“哎哟你这人真是嘴毒！朋友怎么能咒朋友？你要真说灵了，我死山里，你也别想在水上太平，说不定哪天被浪掀翻！”
张稍大笑：“我才不会翻船呢！”
李定不服：“天有不测风云，人有旦夕祸福，谁敢打包票？”
张稍自信一笑：“我打鱼可不是乱来。长安西门有个神算先生，我每天送他一条金色鲤鱼，他就告诉我哪能下网钓鱼最有收获。次次准，百试百灵！今天他刚说了，明早去泾河湾东岸下网、西岸钓钩，准能满载而归！等我卖了鱼，咱们再喝一壶。”
说完，两人各自回家。
却不知，他们这番话，被泾河水府的夜叉听了个清清楚楚！
夜叉一惊，飞回水晶宫，急报泾河龙王：“不好了！那渔翁说西门街的算命先生灵得不像话，要是再这么下去，咱水族非被捞光不可！”
泾河龙王一听，气得胡须都竖起来了，提剑就要上长安捉人。
幸好虾兵蟹将连忙跪地劝道：“大王息怒！话听一半不可信，您若亲自去动手，天象变、地气动，惊动了天庭，那就麻烦了。不如您化作凡人，去探个实情再说？”
泾河龙王一听有理，便收了怒气，收了宝剑，悄悄化作一位白衣书生，风度翩翩，仪表堂堂，踏着云步直奔长安西门街。
果然街上热闹非凡，一大群人围着算命摊子看热闹。有人大声叫着：“属龙犯本命，属虎相冲，日犯岁君，凶多吉少！”龙王一听，知道找对地方了。
他拨开人群一看，只见摊前香烟袅袅、画轴成行，案前堆满卦书典籍。坐堂之人气质不凡、言辞有据，一手好字，一口精准。门匾上写着四个字：“神课先生”，旁边小字署名：“袁守诚”。
此人正是大名鼎鼎的袁天罡的叔父，当朝钦天监的至亲，名声响彻长安。
泾河龙王拱手作揖，进门行礼。童子奉茶，先生招呼他入座。
袁守城问道：“公子想占何事？”
泾河龙王淡然一笑：“只想请教一卦，算算明日的天气。”
袁守城不急不忙，掐指一算，微笑答道：“明日云雾缭绕，辰时起云，巳时雷动，午时落雨，未时天晴，一共三尺三寸四十八点雨。”
泾河龙王听完卦，不屑一笑：“这话可别当玩笑。要是真像你说的那样准，我赏你五十两银子；要是差一点儿，我就砸你招牌、封你摊位，把你赶出长安，别再骗人了！”
袁守诚一脸云淡风轻：“行，这卦我包了。明天下雨之后，您来验卦。”
泾河龙王点点头，回了水府。水族众神一见他回来，纷纷围上来打听：“大王，大王，那个算命的找着了吗？”
泾河龙王笑着摆摆手：“找到了，就是个嘴皮子溜的。他说明天下雨，还精确到几点几分，说什么辰时起云、巳时打雷、午时下雨、未时停雨，总共三尺三寸四十八点雨。我和他打了个赌：准了赏他五十两，不准就砸摊赶人。”
众水神一听，笑得前仰后合：“大王，您管着八条大河，天气说变就变，那小子敢乱说，分明是自讨没趣，明天准完蛋。”
笑声未落，忽听空中一声喊：“泾河龙王接旨——”大家抬头一看，金甲神将从天而降，手持玉皇大帝圣旨，气势汹汹。
泾河龙王一哆嗦，赶紧换好衣服，焚香接旨。打开一看，顿时吓得脸色发白，腿都软了——圣旨上写得明明白白：明日辰时起云、巳时打雷、午时下雨、未时止雨，雨量三尺三寸四十八点，分毫不差！
泾河龙王一脸生无可恋：“完了完了，这算命的真是神仙下凡，我这赌输定了。”
这时，水中鲥鱼军师凑过来，低声献计：“大王，别怕，咱可以动点手脚嘛。只要您改一改下雨的时间和雨量，那他不就不准了吗？不准了，咱就砸他摊，照样赢回来！”
泾河龙王一听，拍腿叫好：“妙计！”立刻吩咐风伯雷公电母云童上岗，各自站好天位，明天行动。
第二天一早，泾河上空风起云涌。泾河龙王亲自调度，特意晚了一个时辰才布云、下雨，还控制雨量只下了三尺零四十点，少了三寸八点，完美打破“预言”。
事后，天兵撤退，泾河龙王摇身一变，重新换回白衣书生模样，怒气冲冲跑到西门口，二话不说冲进袁守诚的卦摊，一把掀了招牌，砸了桌案，吼道：“你这个骗子！昨天口口声声说几点下雨多少雨，今天全错！快滚出长安！”
袁守诚却稳稳坐着，茶都没撒，冷冷看着他：“你急什么？那卦没错，错的是你。”
泾河龙王一愣：“你什么意思？”
袁守诚一笑：“我认得你，你根本不是凡人，而是泾河龙王。你私自改了天命，违抗玉帝旨意，已经犯了天条，怕是逃不过剐龙台了。”
泾河龙王听得汗流浃背，噗通跪地求饶：“先生饶命！我不是故意的！求您救我，不然我死也不会放过你......”
袁守诚叹口气：“我救不了你。但我可以告诉你一条活路。明天午时三刻，你会被魏徵梦中斩首。想活命，就去找唐太宗求情，看他肯不肯保你。”
泾河龙王连连叩谢，转身离开。夜幕降临，他不敢回水府，就在半空徘徊。等到子时，他收起云雾，悄悄飞到长安皇宫门前。
正好唐太宗正在梦中漫步月下，忽见一人跪在地上哀求：“陛下救命！”
唐太宗一看：“你是何人？”
泾河龙王哭着说：“我是泾河龙王，因为违了天条，明天要被魏徵斩首，求陛下搭救！”
唐太宗答应了：“你放心，有朕在，定不让你死。”
泾河龙王大喜，连连叩谢后隐去。
第二天一早，唐太宗醒来，还记得梦中之事。五鼓三点朝会开始，百官到齐，偏偏魏徵没来。
唐太宗皱眉，问徐世勣：“昨夜梦中泾河龙王来求我，说魏徵要斩他，怎么今天魏徵没上朝？”
徐世勣一听，吓了一跳：“陛下，这梦恐怕是真的！快召魏徵进宫，今日千万不能让他离开视线！”
唐太宗立刻下旨，请魏徵进宫，并留在身边不得外出。
再说魏徵，此时正在府中沐浴焚香、养气凝神。原来他夜观天象，早已察觉天意。果然天上传来仙鹤叫声，玉皇大帝旨意降下：午时三刻，梦中斩龙。
魏徵领旨后，不敢怠慢，正准备静修，忽听太监传旨，让他速赴宫中。他只得整装出门，见唐太宗后跪地请罪。
唐太宗宽慰他：“无妨，今日你就留在朕身边。”
眼看午时将至，唐太宗忽然说：“来人，取棋来，朕要与魏卿下一局。”
两人落子未几，到了午时三刻，只见魏徵手一顿，忽然伏案打起了盹，鼾声震天。唐太宗一笑：“魏卿真是劳累过度，让他歇会儿。”
不多时，魏徵醒来，赶紧认错：“臣失仪了！”
唐太宗却温言劝慰，还让他继续下棋。正要落子时，忽听宫门外一阵骚动，秦叔宝、徐世勣带着一颗血淋淋的龙头急忙奔进殿来：“启禀陛下，这龙头刚从天而降，落在长安街头！”
唐太宗大惊：“这......怎么回事？”
魏徵缓缓起身：“此龙，是臣梦中斩的。”
唐太宗惊得合不拢嘴：“可你一直坐在朕面前，怎么动的手？”
魏徵答：“臣虽身在殿上，神魂却出窍，奉旨在梦中上了剐龙台，挥剑斩龙，事后龙头自然落地。”
唐太宗听后，脸色复杂。感叹魏徵忠心耿耿，为国斩龙，却也一脸悔意——昨夜明明答应救龙王，结果却眼睁睁看他人头落地。
Dragon King of Jing River Broke Heaven’s Law
Just outside Chang’an, along the banks of the Jing River, lived two scholarly hermits who never quite made it in the civil service exams. One was Zhang Shao, a fisherman. The other, Li Ding, a woodcutter. Though neither held office, both were masters of poetry and well known in the region as the “cultured men of the countryside.”
One afternoon, after selling their fish and firewood in the city, the two stopped by a tavern and shared a few cups of wine. With a jug apiece in hand, they staggered home along the river and chatted about life, the universe, and everything in between.
Zhang Shao swung his wine jug and sighed, “Those who chase fame and fortune always end up paying the price. If not in ruin, then in paranoia. High office may look glorious, but it’s like sleeping with a tiger. And being favored at court? That’s like keeping a snake in your sleeve. It’ll bite you eventually. Look at us: poor, sure, but the moon is ours and the wind is free.”
Li Ding chuckled. “Well said, brother. Still, your ‘breezes over water’ are no match for my ‘evergreen in the mountains.’”
“Oh?” Zhang smirked. “Let me show you the poetry in my waves.”
And with that, he launched into a lyrical ode to life on the water: casting nets under moonlight, children laughing on the boat, his wife mending the nets. Peaceful. Content.
Li Ding clapped back with a poem of his own,. This one sang praises of mountain seasons—flowers blooming, birds chirping, chopping wood, and picking tea. Rustic bliss.
Back and forth they went, verse for verse.
“My river has fish in spring, shrimp in summer, lotus roots in autumn, and hotpots in winter!” Zhang Shao declared and recited another poem full of culinary joy.
“Bah!” Li Ding grinned. “The mountains have wild herbs, mushrooms, and chickens fattened on grain. That’s flavor you can’t buy in the market!” He added his own stanza, describing stews that would make any nobleman jealous.
They traded lines like seasoned duelists. One praising riverboats, the other mountain huts. Poetry turned into a friendly battle of lifestyle bragging.
“I even have leisure,” Zhang Shao boasted. “Watching cranes, teaching my son to weave nets, sun-drying the catch with my wife. Nothing fancy, but honest.”
“Same here,” said Li Ding. “Books, chess, tutoring kids, picking flowers, sipping wine. I wear cloth shoes and a straw hat, but I live better than most ministers!” Another poem followed, painting mountain life as idyllic as a scroll painting.
At last, the two burst out laughing. “No palaces, no feasts, just poems, pots of tea, and good company. What more do we need?”
They kept walking and rhyming. Their verses drifted from fishing and woodcutting to family and friendship, from rustic meals to lazy naps.
Zhang Shao raised his jug and grinned. “Brother Li, try this couplet on for size: ‘A mountain man with moon and wind for company.’”
Without missing a beat, Li Ding replied, ‘An old fisherman proud of his rivers and lakes.’
One by one, they strung together a full verse:
“Sleep in straw huts, wear rain cloaks;
Friends like plum trees and pine; allies, the birds and fish.
No talk of war or politics, no thirst for power or office.
Every meal: wild greens and wine, every day: free as the breeze.
In spring, watch the willows; in summer, pick water chestnuts;
In autumn, catch crabs and roast hens; in winter, sleep in late.
The year turns simple and sweet. No riches, no gold.
Flowers bloom by the door. Water flows by the boat.
No envy for lords and ministers, we only ask for fish on the stove and wood for the fire.
This is true joy—thanks to heaven and earth.
They laughed their way to a fork in the road and bid each other farewell.
Zhang Shao teased, “Careful in the mountains, Brother Li. One slip, a tiger might make off with you. Then who would I argue poetry with?”
Li Ding frowned. “Hey now, what kind of friend jinxes his friend? If I get eaten, maybe you will get capsized! Then who’ll sell fish on the street, huh?”
Zhang Shao laughed heartily. “I’m no amateur. I’ve got insider tips! You know that fortune-teller at West Gate? I bring him a golden carp every day, and he tells me where to fish. Every time—bullseye! Just today he said: cast nets east of the bay at sunrise, bait a hook on the west side, and you’ll haul in a feast. When I’m done selling the catch, we’ll drink again!”
They waved goodbye and weren’t unaware that their conversation had been overheard by none other than a Yaksha
Alarmed, he rushed back to the Crystal Palace of the Dragon King of Jing River.
“Your Majesty!” Yaksha panted. “Trouble! That fisherman says the fortune-teller at West Gate is so accurate, he’s stripping the river clean! If this keeps up, we’ll have no fish left!”
The whiskers of the Dragon King of Jing River bristled. He grabbed his sword. “How dare a mortal interfere with divine tides? I’ll drag him to the depths myself!”
But his crab and shrimp soldiers quickly knelt. “Please, Your Majesty, don’t act in haste! Half-heard words are dangerous. If you intervene directly, it might upset the heavens and draw celestial punishment. Better to disguise yourself and see the truth first.”
Dragon King of Jing River cooled down, lowered his sword, and transformed into a refined young scholar in flowing white robes. He descended gracefully onto West Gate Street in Chang’an.
Sure enough, the place was packed. A lively crowd buzzed around a fortune-telling stall.
“Born in the year of the dragon? Bad luck! Year clashes with your sign!” someone shouted.
Dragon King of Jing River elbowed his way through and saw the stall decked out in scrolls and incense. Books on fate, astrology, and geomancy piled on the table. The man behind it spoke with elegant authority, writing with swift strokes and quoting classics with ease. Above the stall hung a sign: “Master of Divine Charts”, and in smaller characters: Yuan Shoucheng.
This was none other than the famous uncle of Yuan Tiangang, a relative of the imperial astrologer and a man whose reputation echoed through the capital.
Dragon King of Jing River bowed politely as he entered the stall. A young attendant served tea and Yuan Shoucheng gestured for him to sit.
“What would you like to ask about, young sir?” Yuan Shoucheng inquired calmly.
Dragon King of Jing River smiled faintly. “Nothing major, just wondering about tomorrow’s weather.”
Without haste, Yuan Shoucheng pinched his fingers, made a quick calculation, and answered with a serene smile,
“Tomorrow: clouds roll in at dawn, thunder by mid-morning, rain at noon, clearing by late afternoon. Rainfall will measure precisely 3 chi, 3 cun, and 48 drops.”
Dragon King of Jing River scoffed. “Are you serious? If your forecast is that precise, I’ll give you 50 taels of silver. But if you’re wrong, even by a little, I’ll smash your sign, shut down your stall, and run you out of Chang’an.”
Yuan Shoucheng remained unbothered. “Very well. Come test the results after the rain.”
Dragon King of Jing River nodded and returned to his underwater palace. His courtiers gathered at once.
“Well, Your Majesty?” they asked eagerly. “Did you find the fortune-teller?”
“Found him,” Dragon King of Jing River said with a chuckle. “Smooth talker. Says there’ll be rain at specific hours: clouds at the dragon hour, thunder at the snake hour, rain at noon, sun by afternoon. Even quoted the exact rainfall: 3 chi, 3 cun, 48 drops. I made him a deal. If he’s right, he’ll get silver. If he’s wong, I’ll wreck his shop.”
The sea gods burst into laughter.
“Ha! You command the weather across eight rivers! If that mortal’s making up numbers, he’s doomed.”
But the laughter was cut short by a thunderous voice from above: “Dragon King of Jing River, receive the imperial decree!”
They looked up and saw a golden-armored heavenly general descending, holding a jade scroll sealed with Jade Emperor’s mark.
Dragon King of Jing River scrambled to change into formal robes, lit incense, and knelt to receive the decree. As he opened it, the color drained from his face and his knees gave out.
The edict read:
“Tomorrow: clouds at the hour of Chen, thunder at Si, rain at noon, sun by Wei. Rainfall: 3 chi, 3 cun, 48 drops. Not a drop more, not a drop less.”
Dragon King of Jing River stared at the scroll, hollow-eyed. “I’m finished. That fortune-teller isn’t human. He’s some immortal in disguise. I’ve lost the bet.”
Just then, his sly advisor—the shad-fish strategist—sidled up and whispered, “Your Majesty, no need to panic. Just… tweak the weather a bit. Delay the rain, trim the numbers. He gets it wrong, we get to flip his table.”
The eyes of the Dragon King of Jing River lit up. “Brilliant!”
He summoned Marquis of Wind, Duke of Thunder, Mother of Lightning, and Cloud Attendant, and instructed each to stand in their respective positions and prepare for tomorrow’s actions.
The next day, the sky over the Jing River churned with clouds. But under the command of Dragon King of Jing River, they delayed the storm by one whole hour and cut the rainfall down to just 3 chi and 40 drops—off by a neat 3 cun and 8 drops.
Victory in hand, Dragon King of Jing River shed his scales and took on the guise of the white-robed scholar once more. He stormed back to West Gate and marched straight into Yuan Shoucheng’s stall.
Without a word, he flipped the signboard, smashed the table, and roared, “You fraud! Yesterday you claimed the exact time and volume of rain. It is completely wrong! Get out of Chang’an before I toss you in the river!”
Yuan Shoucheng didn’t flinch. He sat calmly, sipping tea that didn’t spill a drop. “Why the tantrum? The forecast wasn’t wrong. You were.”
Dragon King of Jing River froze. “What do you mean?”
Yuan Shoucheng smiled faintly. “I know who you are. You’re no scholar, you’re Dragon King of Jing River. You tampered with Heaven’s decree. The punishment for that is clear: violation of divine order. I’m afraid the dragon slaying platform awaits you.”
Dragon King of Jing River broke into a cold sweat and dropped to his knees.
“Please, Master Yuan! Have mercy! I didn’t mean to! Save me, or I’ll take you down with me!”
Yuan Shoucheng sighed. “I can’t save you. But I can give you a way out. Tomorrow at precisely three quarters past noon, you’ll be beheaded in a dream by Wei Zheng. Your only chance is to beg Emperor Taizong to protect you.”
Dragon King of Jing River kowtowed in gratitude and flew off. As night fell, he didn’t dare return to his palace, Instead, he hovered anxiously outside the imperial court.
At midnight, he dispersed the clouds and snuck into the palace grounds. Just then, Emperor Taizong was strolling beneath the moon in a dream.
A man appeared, kneeling and pleading: “Your Majesty, save me!”
Emperor Taizong blinked. “Who are you?”
“I’m the Dragon King of Jing River,” he wept. “I defied Heaven and now I’m sentenced to die in Wei Zheng’s dream. Only you can stop it!”
Emperor Taizong nodded solemnly. “Fear not. As long as I live, no harm will come to you.”
Dragon King of Jing River beamed with hope, bowed deeply, and vanished into the night.
The next morning, Emperor Taizong woke up still remembering the dream. As court convened at the fifth watch, all the ministers were present, except Wei Zheng.
Frowning, Emperor Taizong turned to General Xu Shiji.
“Last night, I dreamt Dragon King of Jing River begged for his life. He said Wei Zheng would kill him. Now Wei Zheng is absent?”
Xu Shiji turned pale. “Your Majesty, this might not be just a dream. Summon him, quickly! Don’t let him out of your sight today!”
Emperor Taizong sent an urgent decree. Wei Zheng was summoned and ordered to remain at Emperor Taizong’s side all day.
Meanwhile, at home, Wei Zheng had already sensed something. He had bathed, lit incense, and begun quiet meditation. He had read the heavens the night before and knew the edict had been issued. Sure enough, a crane’s cry echoed from above—confirmation from Heaven.
At 12:45 p.m., he was to execute Dragon King of Jing River in a dream.
Just as he began to focus, a eunuch burst in with the imperial order. Wei Zheng sighed, dressed, and hurried to court, kneeling before Emperor Taizong.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, for being late.”
“No need,” Emperor Taizong said warmly. “You’ll stay here today.”
As the sun climbed toward midday, Emperor Taizong suddenly said, “Bring the game board. Let’s play a round of chess.”
They had barely placed a few stones when Wei Zheng paused mid-move. His head drooped. He began to snore loudly.
Emperor Taizong chuckled. “Poor man, he’s exhausted. Let him rest.”
Not long after, Wei Zheng stirred and sat up, flustered. “Your Majesty, I fell asleep. My apologies!”
Emperor Taizong gently reassured Wei Zheng and urged him to continue their game of chess. But just as Wei Zheng was about to make his move, a sudden commotion erupted outside the palace gates. In stormed Generals Qin Shubao and Xu Shiji, dragging in a blood-soaked dragon’s head.
“Your Majesty!” they cried. “This fell from the sky, right onto the main street of Chang’an!”
Emperor Taizong’s eyes widened. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”
Wei Zheng stood slowly and said, calm as ever, “That dragon… I killed it. In my dream.”
Emperor Taizong stared in disbelief. “You’ve been sitting right in front of me all morning. How could you possibly slay a dragon?”
Wei Zheng bowed. “Though my body was here, my spirit left to carry out Heaven’s will. I was summoned to the dragon slaying platform in the dream realm. I drew my sword, struck the dragon down. Now its head has fallen into the mortal world.”
Emperor Taizong said nothing for a long moment. His face clouded over with awe, guilt, and regret. He had promised Dragon King of Jing River mercy the night before, and now watched helplessly as the creature’s severed head lay before him. Wei Zheng had done his duty, no doubt. But a promise was a promise.
本章完，感谢阅读！
