As bad luck would have it, the travelers presently came to another river, though fortunately this one was a good deal narrower than the previous one. Tripitaka spotted some distance away a few thatched huts beneath the shade of some jade-green weeping willows. “Surely there’ll be a boat over there,” speculated Monkey.
Pigsy decided to take the initiative. “Hey!” he hollered. “Boat needed! Over here!”
Out from beneath one of the willows creaked a brightly painted paddleboat. As it approached the stretch of bank where the pilgrims were standing, Tripitaka realized it was being rowed by an old woman dressed in black silk shoes, a patched coat, and a grubby skirt. “Hop on,” she told the pilgrims.
“Are you in charge of this boat?” Monkey asked. “Where’s the ferryman?”
The woman merely smiled and pulled out the gangplank. Sandy carried the luggage on, Monkey helped Tripitaka embark, and Pigsy led the horse into the boat, taking up the plank after everyone was in. The woman then rowed the boat quickly across the river.
On the other side, Tripitaka asked Sandy to open one of the bundles and take out a few coppers to pay the woman for her trouble. She accepted the offering without haggling, tied the boat to a post on the bank, and disappeared into a nearby house, chortling away to herself. Gazing at the clear water, Tripitaka suddenly felt thirsty. “Get the bowl and scoop me some water, would you?” he asked Pigsy.
“I could use a drink myself,” Pigsy replied. Tripitaka drank less than half the water that Pigsy bailed; Pigsy then finished the rest and helped Tripitaka back onto the horse.
The pilgrims had barely traveled for an hour when Tripitaka started to whimper. “My stomach aches!”
“Mine, too!” complained Pigsy.
“Could it be the cold water you just drank?” wondered Sandy.
“I feel terrible!” cried Tripitaka.
“Owwww!” echoed Pigsy.
As the pain grew steadily more unbearable, their stomachs began to swell. When they rubbed their abdomens, there seemed to be a blood clot or a mysterious lump ricocheting madly about inside them. Before long, Tripitaka was in agony. As soon as Monkey spotted a cottage at the roadside up ahead, he advised stopping there. “We’ll ask for some hot water and whether there’s an apothecary nearby where I could get you both some stomach medicine.”
Tripitaka spurred the horse on and they arrived there shortly. An old woman was sitting outside on the grass, weaving hemp. “We’re pilgrims from the Tang empire,” Monkey told her. “My teacher here is the emperor’s brother. Since drinking water from the river we just crossed, he’s had a horrible stomachache.”
The old woman hiccupped with laughter. “Hilarious. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Come inside and I’ll explain.”
By now, Tripitaka and Pigsy needed to lean heavily on the other two to stagger into the cottage, where they sat down, groaning with pain, their stomachs protruding, their faces waxen and contorted. “We’d be most grateful,” Monkey asked the old woman, “if you could get us some hot water.”
Ignoring the request, the giggling old woman rushed into the next room. “Here’s some fun!” she could be heard saying. “Come and see what I just brought in.” A handful of middle-aged women, gurgling with laughter, now clattered into the pilgrims’ room.
Monkey bared his teeth, terrifying them into retreat, then grabbed hold of their hostess. “Get me some hot water now, if you want to live!”
“Hot water won’t help your friends, Mr. Monkey,” the old woman said, trembling. “Let go of me and I’ll explain.” Monkey relented and she began. “You’re in Western Liang, also known as the Land of Women. There are no men here, and that’s why we were so tickled when you turned up. I’m afraid it’s very bad news that your friends drank from that river. It’s called the Mother-and-Child River. Women around here don’t touch its water until they’re past their twentieth birthday because it brings on labor. Just outside our capital, there’s a Receiving-Maleness Posthouse, to the side of which runs the Embryo-Reflecting Spring. Three days after a woman has drunk from the river, she goes and looks at her reflection in the spring. If she sees a double reflection, it means birth is imminent. Your friends have clearly fallen pregnant after drinking from Mother-and-Child and are due to give birth any moment now. What good will hot water do?”
“Calamity!” yelped Tripitaka, turning white, while Pigsy—sitting on the ground—bent over, trying to spread his legs. “But we’re men! How can we have children? We don’t have birth canals. Where’s the baby going to come out?”
“A ripe melon will find a way to drop,” said Monkey, grinning, “as the proverb goes. Maybe it’ll burst out of your armpit.”
Pigsy now doubled over with pain and fear. “Doom! I’m doomed!”
“Don’t roll about so!” Sandy laughed, also enjoying himself tremendously. “You’ll damage the umbilical cord. Or your water might break.”
Pigsy’s eyes welled with tears. “Ask if there are any decent midwives around here. The contractions are coming faster. The baby could come any minute. Hurry up!”
“Is there a doctor around here that could sell us some abortion medicine?” the unhappy Tripitaka asked.
“The only thing that will end the pregnancy is water from Abortion Spring, inside Child-Destroying Cave on Dissolving-Maleness Mountain. But it’s not easy to get. A few years ago, a Taoist calling himself the True Immortal of Wish Fulfillment occupied the cave and now controls access to Abortion Spring. Anyone who wants a cup of water has to grovel and gift him with money, food, and wine. You beggar-monks don’t have a hope. I suggest you prepare yourselves for parenthood.”
But Monkey was very interested in Abortion Spring. “How far is it from here to Dissolving-Maleness?”
“About three thousand miles,” replied the old woman.
“Marvelous,” said Monkey. “Don’t worry, Tripitaka. I’ll be back with some of that water before you can say ‘It’s a beautiful baby girl.’ Sandy, you’re in charge while I’m away. If these people mistreat our teacher, feel free to terrorize them in any way you like.”
“Try to get as much water as you can,” the woman requested, presenting Monkey with a porcelain bowl, “so that we can keep some for emergencies.”
Monkey cloud-somersaulted off into the horizon, while the old woman called the household together to heat some rice and hot water for their guests.
Not long into his cloud-somersault, Monkey encountered an exceptionally lovely mountain, dappled with brooks and canyons, carpeted in emerald-green forest and inhabited by wild geese, deer, and monkeys. As he took in the scene, he spotted a rather handsome building on the shaded side of the mountain. It looked like a perfect retreat for a recluse: a thatched house approached by a bridge over a stream. In a moment, Monkey was at the gate; just inside, an elderly Taoist sat cross-legged on an expanse of green grass. Monkey set his porcelain bowl down and approached to make inquiries. “What brings you to our humble temple?” the Taoist asked.
“I am a poor monk sent by the Tang empire to fetch scriptures from the west. Because my master mistakenly drank from the Mother-and-Child River, he is in terrible labor pain and due to give birth at any moment. I understand that his only hope is to drink water from Abortion Spring, which is located within your temple. I’ve therefore come to pay my respects to the True Immortal of Wish Fulfillment and beg a little water. Would you mind taking me in to see him?”
“You’ve come to the right place,” said the Taoist, smiling, “and I’m Wish Fulfillment’s senior disciple. What’s your name, so I can announce you?”
“I am Monkey, disciple of Tripitaka.”
“And your gifts are . . . where?”
“I am a mendicant monk. I have no gifts.”
The Taoist laughed. “Are you mad? My master’s never given water to anyone for free. When you’ve drummed up some donations, I’ll show you in. Till then, hop off.”
“When he learns it’s Monkey asking, he’ll be so thrilled he’ll probably turn the whole spring over to me.”
The Taoist disciple reluctantly went inside to announce Monkey’s arrival to Wish Fulfillment, who was doing his zither practice. The instant the immortal—a formidable sight, with flame-red hair, beard, eyes, and lips—heard the name Monkey, he went puce with rage. Jumping off his zither couch, he changed into full Taoist regalia—red and gold robe, brocade-trimmed shoes, embroidered stockings—and marched out of the temple door, twirling a long-handled golden hook. “WHERE IS THAT MONKEY?”
“Your humble servant,” Monkey greeted him, putting his palms together and bowing.
“Monkey—we meet at last,” the immortal responded, laughing mirthlessly.
Monkey looked nonplussed.
“Don’t you recognize me?” Wish Fulfillment segued.
“Should I?”
“Is your teacher Tripitaka of the Tang?” thundered the glowering immortal.
“The very same.”
“Does the name Red Boy ring any bells for you?”
“Red Boy of Fire-Cloud Cave by Desiccated Pine Stream on Roaring Mountain? Why do you ask?”
“He is my nephew, son of my brother, King Bull Demon, who sometime ago sent me a letter explaining that you, Monkey, had brought misery and doom on Red Boy. And here you are, knocking at my door. Vengeance will be mine!”
“You are mistaken, sir,” soothed Monkey with a smile. “Your elder brother is my very good friend. Indeed, back in the day we were in a band of seven sworn brothers. Excuse my not knowing the family connection. Let me reassure you, your nephew is in an excellent place right now. Guanyin has made him her senior attendant-administrator-thingummy. Definitely a step up in the world.”
“Wretched monkey!” screamed the immortal. “My nephew was a king and now he’s a slave! Eat my hook!”
“Are you sure you don’t want to just give me some of that water?” asked Monkey, blocking the blow.
“The nerve! If you can defeat me, you can have the water. If not, I’ll make revenge sauce of you.”
“All right, you bastard,” Monkey snapped back. “If you want a fight, you’ve got it.”
The immortal made a good showing at the start, swiping his hook at Monkey like a mantis. Eventually, though, Wish Fulfillment grew tired and fled the scene, trailing his hook behind him. Abandoning the chase, Monkey went straight into the temple, kicking down the door in search of the spring, accessible through a well in the courtyard. Just as he was about to bail some water, however, the immortal suddenly reappeared and fastened his hook around one of Monkey’s legs; Monkey fell flat on his muzzle. Scrambling to his feet, he made a second attempt to lower the bucket with his right hand, while fending off the hook with his left, but Wish Fulfillment struck again. This time, the bucket tumbled into the well as Monkey lost his balance. “This fellow needs to learn some manners,” Monkey muttered, clambering back up and wildly hammering his opponent with blows of his staff. Although the immortal fled again, Monkey was stuck: rope and bucket were lost, and the hook could return at any moment. I need an assistant, he thought, reversing his cloud to the village.
Back at the cottage, it was business as usual: Tripitaka moaning and Pigsy babbling about their contractions. “Have you got the water?” asked Sandy eagerly when Monkey reappeared.
“Oh, woe,” wailed Tripitaka on learning of Wish Fulfillment’s frosty reception of Monkey.
Monkey shrugged. “It’s all fine. I just need some backup from Sandy. I’ll fight the immortal while Sandy gets the water.”
“But the two of us are ill,” worried Tripitaka. “Who will look after us?”
“Don’t worry,” reassured the old woman. “We’ll take care of you. We wouldn’t dream of harming such illustrious visitors.”
“What harm could you women do to us?” Monkey snorted scornfully.
“You were lucky to have come straight to my door,” said their hostess, smiling. “If you’d wandered into another house, they’d have torn you to pieces.”
“W-what do you mean?” whimpered Pigsy.
“The five of us here are all too old to have thoughts of romance, so we wouldn’t lay a finger on you. But if you’d stumbled into a house of young women, they’d have forced you to have sex and killed you if you put up any resistance. Then they’d have skinned you and turned you into perfume bags.”
“I’d be safe at least.” Pigsy sighed in relief. “I’m far too smelly to make perfume out of. The other three are deliciously fragrant though; can’t recommend them highly enough.”
“Save your breath,” Monkey told him, laughing, “for giving birth.”
“There’s no time to waste,” urged the woman. “Go get that water.”
Pausing only to borrow a bucket and two ropes, Sandy and Monkey got on their clouds and were soon back at Dissolving-Maleness Mountain. At the entrance to the temple, Monkey told Sandy to go and hide with the bucket and ropes. “I’ll provoke a battle, and once we’re in the thick of it, sneak in and get the water.”
“Understood,” said Sandy.
Staff in hand, Monkey went up to the front door. “Open up!”
“It’s that rude Monkey again,” Wish Fulfillment’s assistant told him.
The immortal emerged with a wide, confident smile and his hook at the ready. “Outrageous ape! What are you doing back here?”
“I already told you—I need some of that water,” replied Monkey.
“No presents, no water,” Wish Fulfillment countered. Monkey now drew his antagonist into battle farther down the mountain, while Sandy dashed inside with the bucket and filled it to the brim, breaking the arm of the assistant in the process, then ran back out and onto his cloud. “Leave him!” he shouted to Monkey, who was still in the thick of battle. “I’ve got the water.”
Monkey blocked the hook with his staff. “No hard feelings, now that I’ve got what I came for. But no more fleecing innocent passersby.” Though Wish Fulfillment tried another couple of hook swipes at Monkey’s legs, Monkey danced out of reach, then grabbed the hook and smashed it to pieces. He hopped back onto his own cloud, caught up with Sandy, and the two of them returned in triumph. “How’s it going, big belly?” Monkey teased Pigsy, who was desperately hugging the door frame.
“Have you got it?” pleaded the desperate Pigsy.
Monkey would have had some more fun with him, but Sandy was more magnanimous. “Abortion water to the rescue!”
The old woman half-filled a cup with the water. “Sip this slowly; one mouthful should be enough to end the pregnancy.”
“Just pass the bucket,” gasped Pigsy.
“If you drink the whole thing,” said the woman, “it’ll dissolve your entire digestive system.” On learning this, Pigsy behaved with uncharacteristic moderation around the water.
Within about twenty minutes, the two of them felt sharp cramps and their intestines began to growl, after which Pigsy lost control of his bowels and bladder; Tripitaka also retired to empty his system. After a few bowel movements, the pain stopped and the swelling gradually subsided as the balls of blood and flesh dissolved. The old woman’s family then cooked the two unfortunates some restorative rice porridge. Tripitaka ate two bowls, while Pigsy polished off a dozen and still asked for more. “If you’re not careful,” Monkey said, laughing, “you’ll get a postpartum sandbag belly.”
“Will you leave me the rest of the water?” the old woman now asked the pilgrims. After checking that Pigsy and Tripitaka had fully recovered, Monkey said that she was more than welcome to it. “This’ll pay for my funeral!” she said happily, decanting the leftovers into a porcelain jar and burying it in her back garden. After a feast of a meal, all retired for the night. The following dawn, the disciples—their bodies miraculously free of pregnancies—thanked the woman and her family for their hospitality and set out again.