EIGHTY
The fair girl, nursing the yang, seeks a mate;
Mind Monkey, guarding his master, knows a monster.
We were telling you about the Bhikṣu king who, along with his subjects, escorted the Tang Monk and his disciples out of the city; they journeyed for some twenty miles and still the king refused to turn back. At last Tripitaka insisted on leaving the imperial chariot and mounted the horse to take leave of the escorts, who waited until the pilgrims were out of sight before returning to their own city.
The four pilgrims traveled for some time until both winter and spring faded; there was no end to the sight of wildflowers and mountain trees, of lovely and luxuriant scenery. Then they saw in front of them a tall, rugged mountain. Growing alarmed, Tripitaka asked, “Disciples, is there any road on that tall mountain ahead? We must be careful!”
“Your words, Master,” said Pilgrim with a laugh, “hardly sound like those of a seasoned traveler! They seem more like those of a prince or nobleman who sits in a well and stares at the sky. As the ancient proverb says,
A mountain does not block a road,
For a road passes through a mountain.
Why ask about whether there is any road or not?”
“Perhaps the mountain does not block the road,” replied Tripitaka, “but I fear that such a treacherous region will breed some fiends, or that monster-spirits will emerge from the depth of the mountain.” “Relax! Relax!” said Eight Rules. “This place is probably not too far from the region of ultimate bliss, and it’s bound to be peaceful and safe.”
As master and disciples were thus conversing, they soon reached the base of the mountain. Taking out his golden-hooped rod, Pilgrim went up a rocky ledge and called out: “Master, this is the way to go around the mountain. It’s quite walkable. Come quickly! Come quickly!” The elder had little choice but to banish his worry and urge the horse forward. “Second Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “you tote the luggage for awhile.” Eight Rules accordingly took over the pole while Sha Monk held on to the reins so that the old master could sit firmly on the carved saddle and follow Pilgrim on the main road as they headed for the mountain. What they saw on the mountain were
Cloud and mist shrouding the summit
And rushing torrent in the brook;
Fragrant flowers clogging the road;
Ten thousand trees both thick and dense;
Blue plums and white pears;
Green willows and red peaches.
The cuckoo weeps for spring’s about to leave,
And swallows murmur to end the seedtime rites.1
Rugged rocks;
Jade-top pines;
A rough mountain path,
Bumpy and jagged;
Precipitous hanging cliffs
With thickets of creepers and plants.
A thousand peaks noble like halberd rows;
Through countless ravines a grand river flows.
As the old master looked leisurely at this mountain scenery, the sound of a bird singing filled him again with longing for home. He pulled the horse to a stop and called out, “Disciples!
Since Heaven’s plaque2 conveyed the royal decree,
The rescript I took beneath brocaded screens.
At Lantern Feast, the fifteenth, I left the East,
From Emperor Tang parted as Heav’n from Earth.
Just when dragons, tigers met with wind and cloud,
Master and pupils fell to horses and men.
On all twelve summits of Mount Wu I’ve walked.
When can I face my lord and see my king?”
“Master,” said Pilgrim, “you are always so full of longing for home that you are hardly like someone who has left home. Just relax and keep moving! Stop worrying so much! As the ancients said,
If wealth in life you wish to see,
Deadly earnest your work must be.”
Tripitaka said, “What you say is quite right, disciple, but I wonder how much more there is of this road that leads to the Western Heaven!”
“Master,” Eight Rules said, “it must be that our Buddha Tathāgata is unwilling to part with those three baskets of scriptures. Knowing that we want to acquire them, he must have moved. If not, why is it that we just can’t reach our destination?” “Stop that foolish talk!” said Sha Monk. “Just follow Big Brother. Exert yourself and endure it. There’ll be a day when we all arrive at our destination.”
As master and disciples chatted in this manner, they came upon a huge, dark pine forest. Becoming frightened, the Tang Monk called out once more, “Wukong, we’ve just passed through a rugged mountain path. Why is it that we must face this deep, dark pine forest? We must be on guard.”
“What’s there to be afraid of?” asked Pilgrim. Tripitaka replied, “Stop talking like that! As the proverb says,
You don’t believe the honesty of the honest;
You guard against the unkindness of the kind.
You and I have gone through several pine forests, but none was as deep and wide as this one. Just look at it!
Densely spread out east and west—
In thick columns north and south—
Densely spread out east and west it pierces the clouds;
In thick columns north and south it invades the sky.
Lush thistles and thorns are growing on all sides;
Creepers and weeds wind up and down the trunks.
The vines entwine the tendrils—
The tendrils entwine the vines—
The vines entwine the tendrils
To impede the east-west traveler;
The tendrils entwine the vines
To block the north-south trader.
In this forest
One may spend half a year
Not knowing the seasons,
Or walk a few miles
Without seeing the stars.
Look at those thousand kinds of scenery on the shady side
And ten thousand bouquets in the sunny part.
There are also the millennial locust tree,
The immortal juniper,
The cold-enduring pine,
The mountain peach,
The wild peony,
The dry-land hibiscus—
In layers and clumps they pile together,
So riotous that e’en gods can’t portray them.
You hear also a hundred birds:
The parrot’s squeal;
The cuckoo’s wail;
The magpie darting through the branches;
The crow feeding her parents;
The oriole soaring and dancing;
A hundred tongues making melody;
A call of red partridges,
And the speech of purple swallows.
The mynah learns to speak like a human;
Even the grey thrush can read a sūtra.
You see, too, a big creature3 wagging its tail
And a tiger grinding its teeth;
An aged fox disguised as a lady,
An old grey wolf growling through the woods.
Even if the devarāja Pagoda-Bearer comes here,
He’ll lose his wits though he can subdue a monster!”
Not daunted in the least, however, our Great Sage Sun used his iron rod to open up a wide path and led the Tang Monk deep into the forest. Footloose and carefree, they proceeded for half a day but they had yet to reach the road leading out of the forest.
The Tang Monk called out: “Disciples, our journey to the West has taken us through countless mountains and forests, all rather treacherous. This particular spot, I’m glad to say, is quite nice and the road seems safe enough. The strange flowers and rare plants of this forest are certainly pleasing to behold. I want to sit for a while here—to rest the horse and to relieve my hunger—if you can go somewhere to beg us a vegetarian meal.” “Please dismount, Master,” said Pilgrim, “and I’ll go beg the meal.”
That elder indeed dismounted; as Eight Rules tethered the horse to a tree, Sha Monk put down his load of luggage and took out the alms-bowl to hand to Pilgrim. “Master,” said Pilgrim, “you may feel quite safe sitting here. Don’t be frightened. Old Monkey will return shortly.” While Tripitaka sat solemnly in the pine shade, Eight Rules and Sha Monk amused themselves by going off to search for flowers and fruits.
We tell you now about our Great Sage, who somersaulted into midair. As he paused in his cloudy luminosity to look back, he saw that the pine forest was veiled by hallowed clouds and auspicious mists. So moved was he by the sight that he unwittingly blurted out, “Marvelous! Marvelous!”
Why did he say that, you ask? He was giving praise to the Tang Monk, you see, and recalling to himself the fact that his master was verily the incarnation of the Elder Gold Cicada, a good man who has practiced austerities for ten incarnations. That was why his head was surrounded by such an auspicious halo. “Consider old Monkey,” he thought to himself. “At the time when I brought great disturbance to the Celestial Palace five hundred years ago, I toured with the clouds the four corners of the sea and roamed freely the edges of Heaven. I assembled various monster-spirits to call myself the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven; taming the tiger and subduing the dragon, I even removed our names from the register of death. My head wore a triple-decker gold crown, and my body a yellow gold cuirass; my hands held the golden-hooped rod and my feet were shod in cloud-treading shoes. Some forty-seven thousand fiends under my command all addressed me as Venerable Father Great Sage, and that was some life I led. Now that I’m delivered from my Heaven-sent calamity, I must humble myself and serve this man as his disciple. But if my master’s head has the protection of such hallowed clouds and auspicious mists, he will, I suppose, end up with something good once he returns to the Land of the East, and old Monkey undoubtedly will also attain the right fruit.”
As he thought to himself in this manner and gave praise to his master, he caught sight of a mass of black fumes boiling up from south of the forest. Greatly startled, Pilgrim said, “There must be something perverse in those black fumes! Our Eight Rules and Sha Monk can’t release black fumes like that . . .” In midair our Great Sage at once tried to determine where those black fumes came from, and we shall leave him for the moment.
We tell you instead about Tripitaka, who was sitting in the forest with mind enlightened by the vision of the Buddha-nature in all things. As he recited with utmost concentration the Mahāprajñā-parāmitāhṛ-daya Sūtra, he suddenly heard a faint cry, “Save me! Save me!” “My goodness! My goodness!” said Tripitaka, highly astonished. “Who would be crying out like that deep in the forest? It must be someone scared by tigers or wolves. Let me take a look.” Rising and striding forward, the elder went by the millennial cedars and the immortal pines; he climbed over creepers and vines to take a clear look. Tied to the trunk of a huge tree was a girl: the upper half of her body was bound by vines, while the lower half of her body was buried in the ground.
Stopping before her, the elder asked, “Lady Bodhisattva, for what reason are you bound here?” Alas! She was clearly a monster, but the elder, being of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, could not recognize her. When the fiend heard the question, she released a torrent of tears. Look at her!
As tears dripped from her peachlike cheeks,
She had features that would sink fishes and drop wild geese;
As grief flashed from her starlike eyes,
She had looks that would daunt the moon and shame the flowers.
In truth not daring to approach her, our elder asked again, “Lady Bodhisattva, what possible crime could you have committed? Speak up so that this humble cleric may rescue you.”
With clever and deceptive words, with false and specious sentiments, the monster-spirit replied hurriedly, “Master, my home is located in the Bimbāna Kingdom,4 some two hundred miles from here. My parents, still living and exceedingly devoted to virtue, have in all their lives been kind to friends and peaceable toward relatives. As this is the time of Clear Brightness, they invited various kinfolk and the young and old of our family to sweep clean our ancestral graves and offer sacrifices to the dead. A whole row of carriages and horses went out into the desolate wilds. We had just set up the sacrifices and finished burning paper money and horses when the sound of gongs and drums brought out a band of strong men wielding knives, waving staffs, and screaming to kill as they fell on us. We were scared out of our wits. My parents and my relatives managed to escape on horseback or in the carriages. Being so young and unable to run, I fell in terror to the ground and was abducted by these brigands. The Big Great King wanted me to be his mistress; the Second Great King desired me for his wife; the Third and the Fourth, too, admired my beauty. A heated quarrel thus began among some seventy or eighty of them, and when they could not resolve their anger, they had me tied up in the forest before they scattered. I have been here like this for five whole days and nights, and I expect my life will expire any moment. I don’t know which generation of my ancestors accumulated sufficient merit to acquire for me the good fortune this day of meeting the venerable master at this place. I beseech you in your great mercy to save my life. I shall never forget your kindness, even when I reach the Nine Springs of Hades!” When she finished speaking, her tears fell like rain.
Always a merciful person, Tripitaka could not refrain from shedding tears himself. In a choking voice, he called out, “Disciples!”
Our Eight Rules and Sha Monk were just searching for flowers and fruits in the forest when they suddenly heard the melancholy cry of their master. “Sha Monk,” said Idiot, “Master must have recognized one of his relatives here.” “You’re driveling, Second Elder Brother!” said Sha Monk, laughing. “We haven’t met one good man after walking all this time. Where would this relative come from?”
“If it weren’t a relative,” replied Eight Rules, “you think Master would be weeping with someone else? Let’s you and I go take a look.” Sha Monk agreed to go back to the original spot with him. As they drew near, leading the horse and toting the luggage, they said, “Master, what’s up?”
Pointing to the tree, the Tang Monk said, “Eight Rules, untie that lady bodhisattva over there so that we may save her life.” Without regard for good or ill, our Idiot immediately proceeded to do so.
We tell you now about the Great Sage in midair, who saw that the black fumes were growing thicker all the time until they had the auspicious luminosity completely covered. “That’s bad! That’s bad!” he exclaimed. “When the black fumes have covered the auspicious luminosity, it may mean that some monstrous perversity has harmed Master. Begging for vegetarian food is a small matter now. I’d better go see my master first.” Reversing the direction of his cloud, he dropped down into the forest, where he found Eight Rules busily trying to untie the ropes. Pilgrim went forward, grabbed one of his ears, and flung him with a thud to the ground. As he raised his head to look and scramble up, Idiot said, “Master told me to rescue this person. Why did you have to strongarm me and give me this tumble?”
“Brother, don’t untie her,” said Pilgrim with a laugh. “She is a monster-spirit who’s using some jugglery to deceive us.”
“You brazen ape!” snapped Tripitaka. “You’re babbling again! How could you tell that this girl is a fiend?” “Master, you may have no idea about this,” replied Pilgrim, “but it’s the kind of business old Monkey has done before. This is the way monster-spirits try to get human flesh to eat. How could you know about that?”
Pouting with his snout stuck out, Eight Rules said, “Master, don’t believe the lies of this BanHorsePlague. This girl belongs to a family here, whereas we came from the distant Land of the East. We’re no acquaintances or kinfolk of hers. How could we say that she is a monster-spirit? He wants us to abandon her and go on our way so that he can use his magic and somersault back here to have a nice time with her. He wants to sneak in through the back door!”
“Coolie, don’t you dare mouth such nonsense!” snapped Pilgrim. “During this journey to the West, since when has old Monkey ever been slothful or unruly? I’m no miserable bum like you who loves sex more than life, and who will sell out his friends for a price. Remember how dumb you were when you were deceived by that household’s offer to take you in as a son-in-law and ended up being tied to a tree?”
“All right! All right!” said Tripitaka. “Eight Rules, your elder brother has always been quite right in his perception. If he puts it that way, let’s not mind her. Let’s leave.” “Marvelous!” said Pilgrim, highly pleased. “Master will be able to preserve his life. Please mount up. After we get out of the pine forest, I’ll go to some household to beg you a vegetarian meal.” The four of them indeed abandoned the fiend and proceeded.
Still bound to the tree, the fiend said to herself through clenched teeth, “I have heard people say for several years that Sun Wukong has vast magic powers. What I can see of him today certainly confirms the rumor. Since that Tang Monk has begun practicing austerities in his youth, he has never allowed his original yang to leak out. I was hoping that I could seize him and mate with him so that I might become a golden immortal of the Grand Monad. Hardly did I anticipate that this ape would see through my disguise and take him away instead. If he had untied me and let me down, the Tang Monk would have fallen right into my hands. He would have indeed been mine, wouldn’t he? If I let him get away now just because of a few casual remarks, it means I have planned and worked in vain. Let me call him a couple more times and see what happens. Still tied up in the ropes, the monster-spirit instead employed a gentle breeze to waft some virtuous sentences faintly into the ears of the Tang Monk. What did she say, you ask? This was how she called out to him: “O Master!
If you a living human passed by and refused to free,
What Buddha or scriptures could such blindness hope to see?”
Hearing a summons like that as he rode along, the Tang Monk immediately reined in the horse and called out, “Wukong, let’s go and free the girl.” “Master, you’re moving along just fine,” said Pilgrim. “What makes you think of her again?”
“She’s calling after me!” replied the Tang Monk.
“Did you hear anything, Eight Rules?” asked Pilgrim. Eight Rules said, “My oversized ears must have blocked it. I didn’t hear a thing.”
“Sha Monk, did you hear anything?” asked Pilgrim again. Sha Monk said, “I was walking ahead, toting the luggage, and I didn’t pay any attention. I didn’t hear anything either.” “Nor did old Monkey,” said Pilgrim. “Master, what did she say? Why are you the only one who heard the call?”
The Tang Monk replied, “The way she called me makes a lot of sense. She said,
If you a living human passed by and refused to free,
What Buddha or scriptures could such blindness hope to see?
As the proverb also puts the matter,
Saving one life
Is better than building a seven-tiered stūpa.
Let’s go quickly and rescue her. It’ll be as good as fetching scriptures and worshipping Buddha.”
“Master,” said Pilgrim with a laugh, “when you want to do good, there’s no drug in the world that can cure you! Think how many mountains you have crossed since you left the Land of the East and how many monsters you have encountered since you began your journey to the West. Without fail they managed to have you captured and brought into their caves. When old Monkey came to rescue you, the iron rod he used had beaten thousands upon thousands to death. Today there’s only one life of a monster-spirit, and you can’t leave her. Do you have to rescue her?” “O disciple!” said the Tang Monk. “As the ancients said,
Don’t fail to do good even if it’s small;
Don’t engage in evil even if it’s small.
Let’s go rescue her.”
“If you put it that way, Master,” said Pilgrim, “you must assume the responsibility, because old Monkey can’t bear it. If you have made up your mind to rescue her, I dare not admonish you too much. For if I do, you’ll get mad after a while. You may go and rescue her as you please.” “Don’t talk so much, ape-head!” said the Tang Monk. “You sit here, while Eight Rules and I go rescue her.”
Returning to the pine forest, the Tang Monk asked Eight Rules to untie the ropes that had the girl bound to the tree from the waist up, and to use his rake to dig the lower half of her body out from the ground. Stamping her feet and straightening out her skirt, the fiend followed the Tang Monk out of the forest most amiably. When they met up with Pilgrim, he began to snicker uncontrollably.
“Brazen ape!” scolded the Tang Monk. “Why are you laughing?” “I’m laughing replied Pilgrim, “because
When times are right good friends you will hail;
A fair lady will greet you should fortune fail!”
“Wretched ape!” scolded the Tang Monk again. “What rubbish! The moment I left my mother’s belly, I became a priest. Now I’m journeying westward by imperial decree and trying to worship Buddha in all sincerity. I’m no seeker of profit or status. How could there be a time when my fortune fails?”
“Master,” replied Pilgrim with a laugh, “though you may have been a monk since your youth, all you know is how to read sūtras and chant the name of Buddha. You aren’t familiar with the codes and laws of a state. This girl is both young and pretty, and we are after all persons who have left the family. If we travel with her, we may run into wicked people who will send us to court. Regardless of how we profess to be scripture seekers and Buddha worshippers, they may accuse us of fornication. Even if we are cleared of that charge, they may still have us convicted of kidnapping. You will be expelled from your priesthood and beaten till you’re half-dead; Eight Rules will be sent into the army and Sha Monk will be sentenced to hard labor. Even old Monkey will find it hard to extricate himself from such a messy affair. I may be smart-mouthed, but no amount of haggling on my part will clear us of indiscretion.”
“Stop this nonsense!” snapped Tripitaka. “I’m determined to save her life. How could she involve us in any trouble? We’re taking her with us. If anything arises, I’ll assume the responsibility myself.” “You may talk like that, Master,” said Pilgrim, “but you don’t realize that what you are doing won’t save her but will only harm her.” Tripitaka said, “I rescued her out of the forest so that she might live. How could she be harmed instead?”
“When she was tied up in the forest,” replied Pilgrim, “she might have lasted five to seven days, possibly up to half a month, but without rice to eat, she would have starved to death. Even in that situation, however, she would have died with her body preserved intact. Now you’ve freed her and brought her with you, without realizing, of course, that you happen to be riding a horse swift as the wind. We may be able to follow you on our feet, not having really any choice in the matter, but the girl has such tiny feet that she moves with great difficulty. How could she possibly keep up with you? If by chance she drops behind, she may well run into a tiger or a leopard, which will swallow her with one gulp. In that case, haven’t you harmed her life?”
“Indeed!” said Tripitaka. “It’s a good thing you saw things this way. What shall we do?” “Lift her up and let her ride with you,” said Pilgrim. “How can I ride with her?” asked Tripitaka, and he fell into silent thought.
“How can she proceed?” pressed Pilgrim. “Let Eight Rules carry her on his back,” said Tripitaka. Laughing, Pilgrim said, “Idiot’s getting lucky!”
“‘A long distance has no light load!’” said Eight Rules. “How can I be getting lucky if I’m asked to carry someone on my back?”
“But you’ve such a long snout,” said Pilgrim, “long enough, in fact, to stick it behind you to flirt with her once she is on your back. Don’t you have an advantage there?” When Eight Rules heard this, he pounded his chest and jumped up and down. “That’s no good! That’s no good!” he bellowed. “If Master wants to beat me a few times, I’m willing to take the pain, but it’ll be quite messy for me if I put her on my back. All his life, Elder Brother has loved to set people up by planting false evidence. I can’t carry her!”
“All right, all right!” said Tripitaka. “I can still manage to walk a few steps. Let me get down and walk slowly with her. Eight Rules can lead the horse.” Breaking into loud guffaws, Pilgrim said, “Idiot is really getting the business. Master’s looking after you by asking you to lead the horse!”5
“This ape-head is mouthing absurdity again!” said Tripitaka. “The ancients said, ‘Though a horse can travel a thousand miles, it can’t get there without human guidance.’ If I walk slowly on the road, would you like to leave me behind, too? If I move slowly, you must also move slowly; we can certainly walk down the mountain with this lady bodhisattva. When we arrive at some human household, we can leave her there, and that will have completed our task of rescuing her.”
“What Master says is quite reasonable,” said Pilgrim. “Please proceed quickly.” As Tripitaka walked forward, Sha Monk toted the luggage, Eight Rules led the horse and the girl, and Pilgrim held up his iron rod. They had not covered more than twenty or thirty miles when it was getting late, and there came into their view again a towered building with ornate roof carvings. “Disciples,” said Tripitaka, “that must be either a monastery or temple. Let’s ask for one night’s lodging, and we can proceed tomorrow.” “You spoke well, Master,” said Pilgrim. “Let’s move along, all of us.”
As soon as they reached the gate, Tripitaka gave them this instruction: “Stand away from the door, all of you, and let me go ask for lodging. If it’s convenient, someone will come to call you.” All of them stood beneath the shade of some willow trees, but Pilgrim, gripping his iron rod, stood guard over the girl.
The elder strode forward and saw that the temple gate was so badly rotted that it was all crooked and bent. When he pushed it open to have another look, he was filled with grief, for he found
The long corridors quiet,
An old temple desolate.
Mosses filled the courtyard
And weeds choked the path.
Only the fireflies served as lanterns,
And frog-croaks acted for water clocks.
All at once the elder could not hold back his tears. Truly
The walls were unused and collapsing;
The chambers, forlorn and crumbling.
Over ten piles of broken bricks and tiles
There all bent pillars and snapped beams.
Green grasses grew both front and back;
Dust buried the incense alcove.
The bell tower stood in ruin, the drum had no skin;
The crystal chalice was cracked and chipped.
Buddha’s gold frame lacked luster;
Arhats lay prone east and west.
Guanyin, rain-soaked, was reduced to clay,
Her willow vase fallen to earth.
No priests would enter during the day;
Only foxes rested here by night.
You heard only the wind’s thunderous roar
In this hiding place of all tigers and leopards.
Walls on all four sides had collapsed,
Without doors to fence in the house.6
We have also a testimonial poem that says:
A very old temple in disrepair:
Decayed, declining—no one seems to care.
The fierce wind fractures the guardians’ faces,
And heavy rain the buddha-heads defaces.
The arhats have fallen, they’re strewn about;
Homeless, a local spirit sleeps without.
Two sorry sights for one to look upon:
The bronze bell’s grounded for the belfry’s gone.
Forcing himself to be bold, Tripitaka walked through the second-level door and found that the belfry and the drum tower had both collapsed. All there was left was a huge bronze bell standing on the ground: the upper half was white as snow and the lower half was blue-green like indigo. It had been there for many years, you see: rain had whitened the upper part of the bell and the dampness of the earth had coated the lower part with copperas. Rubbing the bell with his hand, Tripitaka cried out: “O bell! You used to
Make thunderous peal, on a tow’r hung high,
Or boom carved-beam tones to the distant sky,
Or ring in the dawn when the roosters crow,
Or send off the twilight when the sun dropp’d low.
The bronze-melter, I wonder where he is,
And whether the smith who forged you still exists.
These two, I think, are now for Hades bound:
They have no traces and you have no sound!”
As the elder loudly lamented in this manner, he unwittingly disturbed a temple worker who was in charge of incense and fire. When he heard someone speaking, he scrambled up, picked up a piece of broken brick, and tossed it at the bell. The loud clang so scared the elder that he fell to the ground; he struggled up and tried to flee, only to trip over the root of a tree and stumble a second time. Lying on the ground, the elder said, “O bell!
While this humble cleric laments your state,
A loud clang suddenly reaches my ears.
No one takes the road to Western Heav’n, I fear,
And thus you’ve become a spirit o’er the years.”
The temple worker rushed forward and raised him up, saying, “Please rise, Venerable Father. The bell has not turned into a spirit. I struck it, and that is why it clanged.”
When he raised his head and saw how ugly and dark the worker looked, he said, “Could you be some sort of goblin or fiend? I’m no ordinary human, but someone from the Great Tang. Under my command are disciples who can subdue the dragon and tame the tiger. If you run into them, it won’t be easy to preserve your life!”
Going to his knees, the temple worker said, “Don’t be afraid, Venerable Father. I’m no fiend, only a temple worker in care of the fire and incense in this monastery. When I heard your virtuous lament just now, I was about to step out and receive you. Then I was afraid you might be some kind of perverse demon knocking at our door, so I picked up a piece of brick to toss at the bell—just to calm my own fears before I dared come out. Venerable Father, please rise.”
Only then did the Tang Monk collect his wits and say, “Keeper, you nearly frightened me to death! Please take me in.” The worker led the Tang Monk straight through the third-level door, the inside of which he found to be quite different from the outside. He saw
Walls of cloud-patterns built by bluish bricks,
And a main hall roofed in green glazed tiles.
Yellow gold trimmed the saintly forms;
White jade slabs made up the steps.
Green light danced on the Great Hero Hall;
Zealous airs rose from the Pure Alcove.
On Mañjuśrī Hall
Colorful designs soared like clouds;
On the Transmigration Hall
Painted flowers heaped up elegance.
A pointed vase tipped the triple-layered eave;
A brocade top lined the Five-Blessings Tower.
A thousand bamboos rocked the priestly beds;
Ten thousand green pines lit up the Buddhist gate.
Golden light shone within the Jade-Cloud Palace;
Auspicious hues fluttered in the purple mists.
With dawn a fragrant breeze blew to all four quarters;
By dusk the painted drum rolled from a tall mountain.
If one could face the sun to mend a cloak,
Would he not by moonlight finish the Book?
They saw, too, lamplight glowing on half the backyard wall
And scented mists flooding the whole of central mall.
When Tripitaka saw all this, he dared not enter. “Worker,” he called out, “from the front, your place looks so run down, but it’s so nicely maintained back here. How can this be?”
With a laugh the worker said, “Venerable Father, there are many perverse fiends and bandits in this mountain. In fair weather they used to rob and plunder all over the region, but they would seek shelter in this monastery when the skies were grey. They took down holy images and used them for seat cushions, and they pulled up shrubbery and plants for starting fires. As the monks in our monastery are too weak to contend with them, the ruined buildings up front have been turned over to the bandits as their resting place. New patrons were found to build another monastery in the back, so that the pure and the profane could remain distinct. That’s how things are in the West!” “I see!” replied Tripitaka.
As they walked inside, Tripitaka saw on top of the monastery gate these five words written large: Sea-Pacifying Chan Grove Monastery. Hardly had they crossed the threshold when they saw a monk approaching. How did he look, you ask?
He wore a cap of wool-silk pinned to the left;
A pair of copper rings dangled from his ears.
He had on himself a robe of Persian wool;
Like silver his two eyes were white and clear.
His hand waving a rattle from Pamirs,
He chanted some scripture barbaric and queer.
Tripitaka could in no way recognize
This lama cleric of the Western sphere.
Coming through the door, the lama priest saw what lovely, refined features Tripitaka possessed: broad forehead and a flat top, shoulder-length ears, hands that reached beyond the knees—so handsome, in fact, that he seemed verily an incarnate arhat. Walking forward to take hold of him, the lama priest, full of smiles, gave Tripitaka’s hand and leg a couple of pinches; he also rubbed Tripitaka’s nose and pulled at his ear to express his cordial sentiments.
After taking Tripitaka into the abbot’s chamber and greeting him, he asked, “Where did the venerable master come from?” “This disciple,” replied Tripitaka, “is someone sent by imperial commission of the Great Tang in the Land of the East to go to the Great Thunderclap Monastery of India in the West to seek scriptures from the Buddha. As we arrive in your precious region at this late hour of the day, I come especially to ask for one night’s lodging in your noble temple. Tomorrow we’ll set out once more. I beg you to grant us this request.”
“Blasphemy! Blasphemy!” said the priest, laughing. “People like you and me didn’t leave the family with noble intentions. It’s usually because the times of our births happened to have offended the Floriate Canopy.7 Our families were too poor to rear us, and that gave us the resolve to leave home. Since we have all become the followers of Buddha, we should never speak fraudulent words.”
“But mine were honest words!” replied Tripitaka.
“What a distance it is to travel from the Land of the East to the Western Heaven!” said the priest. “There are mountains on the road, there are caves in the mountains, and there are monsters in the caves. You are all by yourself and you seem so young and gentle. You don’t look like a scripture seeker!”
“The abbot’s perception is quite correct,” said Tripitaka. “How could this poor cleric reach this place all by himself? I have three other disciples who are able to open up a road in the mountains and build a bridge across the waters. It is their protection that has enabled me to reach your noble temple.”
“Where are your three worthy disciples?” asked the priest.
“Waiting outside the monastery gate,” replied Tripitaka.
“Master,” said the priest, growing alarmed, “you probably have no idea that there are tigers and wolves, fiendish thieves, and weird goblins out to harm people in this region. Even in daytime we dare not travel very far, and we shut our doors before it gets dark. How could you leave people outside at this hour? Disciples, ask them to come in quickly!”
Two young lamas ran out, but at the sight of Pilgrim they immediately fell down in fright; when they saw Eight Rules, they stumbled again. Scrambling to their feet, they dashed to the rear, crying, “Holy Father, you’ve rotten luck! Your disciples have disappeared. There are just three or four fiends standing outside the gate.”
“What do they look like?” asked Tripitaka. One of the young priests said, “One had a thundergod beak, another a pestlelike snout, and a third had a blue-green face with fangs. By their side there was a girl, rather heavily made up.”
“You could not possibly know that those three ugly creatures happen to be my disciples,” said Tripitaka, smiling. “The girl, however, is someone whose life I saved back in a pine forest.” “O Holy Father!” cried the young priest. “Such a handsome master like yourself, why did you find such ugly disciples?”
“They may be ugly,” replied Tripitaka, “but they are all useful. You’d better hurry and invite them inside. If you wait a while longer, that one with the thundergod beak, being no human offspring, loves to cause trouble and he may want to fight his way in.”
The young priest hurried out, trembling all over, fell to his knees, and said, “Venerable Fathers, Father Tang asks you to enter.” “O Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, giggling, “all he has to do is to invite us to enter. Why is he shaking so hard?” “Because he’s afraid,” replied Pilgrim, “seeing how ugly we are.”
“How absurd!” said Eight Rules. “We were born like this! We don’t look ugly just for the fun of it!”
“Let’s try to fix up the ugliness somewhat,” said Pilgrim. Our Idiot indeed lowered his head to hide his snout in his bosom; while he led the horse and Sha Monk toted the luggage, Pilgrim herded the girl with his rod in the rear as all of them walked inside. Going through the ruined buildings and three levels of doors, they reached the inside, where they tethered the horse and set the luggage on the ground before entering the abbot’s chamber to greet the lama priest. When they had taken their proper seats, the priest led out some seventy young lamas who also greeted the pilgrims. Then they began preparing a vegetarian meal to entertain the guests. Truly
Merit must start with a merciful thought;
A priest lauds a monk when Buddhism thrives.
We do not know how they will leave the monastery; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.