Mount Heng of the Five Great Mountains, the longest breath between heaven and earth

“Hengshan Tie” Traveling beyond Yanmen Pass, suddenly a streak of blue-gray rises between heaven and earth. This mountain seems like a stubborn stone forgotten when Nüwa mended the sky, its edges still carrying the wildness of ancient times. Northern Mount Heng, among the Five Great Mountains, always appears distant, like a distant mountain blurred by light ink in a Chinese painting. But when you truly stand before its gate, you understand the grandeur of the "hidden chamber of Youyan." The best time to climb is before the morning mist disperses. The moss-covered stone steps are soaked with the traces of a thousand years, each green brick embedded with footsteps from different dynasties. Reaching the "Qinqi Terrace," it is said that Zhang Guolao once played chess with an immortal here. The stone table is crisscrossed with grooves, and you can almost hear the crisp sound of chess pieces striking. Suddenly, a mountain breeze sweeps by, and the pine waves flow past your ears like water, blurring the line between the sound of wind and the lingering notes of a guqin. In front of Zixiao Palace stands a bronze incense burner, with smoke curling into a Taiji pattern. The copper bells hanging from the eaves are mottled with rust but still ring out clear, melodious tones. The Taoist’s bamboo broom sweeps over golden bricks, and in the rustling sound hides the secret words of the "Yunji Qiqian." Turning around, you see "Dazi Bay," where the characters "Hengzong" are as large as houses on the cliff face. The carvings from the Northern Wei dynasty seep with cinnabar red, like a talisman frozen for a thousand years. The most marvelous is ascending the Meeting Immortals Mansion. The sea of clouds churns beneath your feet, and seventy-two peaks gather like a congregation of immortals. Suddenly, a ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds, landing on the golden roof of the Sanqing Hall. In an instant, the entire mountain transforms into a cinnabar furnace, steaming with purple energy. Only then do you understand Li Bai’s wild verse, "Breathing out a hundred rivers, Yanran can be shattered," born from the nurturing vitality of heaven and earth. As dusk falls, the cliff inscriptions along the mountain path gradually fade into shadow. Running your fingers over the blurred engravings, the dignity of Tang dynasty regular script and the ruggedness of Wei stele intertwine in the stone grain. Mount Heng never boasts of strange peaks or rocks; it hides its sharpness in the texture of culture. Like the bamboo staff in Xu Xiake’s travel notes, worn smooth by wind and rain, the more unpretentious it is, the more its strength shows. Looking back while descending, Mount Heng is already shrouded in twilight. This mountain, called "Xuan Yue" in the "Shuijing Zhu," always maintains the aloofness of the northern land. It is neither as illustrious as Mount Tai’s imperial rites nor as fierce as Mount Hua’s sword aura, yet it forms its own universe in solitude. Suddenly, you realize that "Heng" means the longest breath between heaven and earth.