I meet you to speak just on the cause of birth
That’ll make you one of Buddha’s assembly.
One calm thought sees Him in this realm of dust;
The whole world watches the god who subdues.
If you’d know today’s true, enlightened lord,
You must ask your mother of former years.
There’s another world you have never seen,
For each step in life may bring something new.
We were telling you about the prince of the Black Rooster Kingdom, who, after he took leave of the Great Sage, soon returned to his city. Indeed, he did not approach the gate of the court, nor did he dare announce his arrival. Going instead to the Rear Gate of the Servants, he found that it was guarded by several eunuchs. When they saw the prince approaching, however, they dared not stop him and let him pass. Dear prince! Pressing his horse, he galloped inside and went straight up to the Brocade Fragrance Pavilion, in which the queen was seated, with scores of palace maidens waving their fans on both sides. The queen, however, was reclining on the carved railings of the pavilion and shedding tears. Why was she shedding tears, you ask? For at the hour of the fourth watch, you see, she too had a dream, but she could remember only half of it. She was trying very hard to recall the other half when the prince dismounted and knelt beneath the pavilion, saying, “Mother!” Forcing herself to appear delighted, the queen cried out, “Son, what joy! What joy! For these two or three years, you have been staying in the front palace to study with your father king and I have not been able to see you. How I have thought of you! How is it that you have the leisure today to come see me instead? This is truly my greatest joy, my greatest joy! O son, why do you sound so sad? Your father king, after all, is getting on in his years. There will be a day when the dragon returns to the jadegreen sea and the phoenix will go back to the scarlet heavens. You will then inherit the throne. What could there possibly be to make you unhappy?”
The prince kowtowed before he said, “Mother, permit me to ask you: who is he that is on the throne now? Who is the man who uses the royal ‘we’?” When the queen heard this, she said, “This child has gone mad! The one who is ruling is your father king. Why do you ask such questions?” Again kowtowing, the prince said, “I beseech my mother to grant her son a pardon first. Only then would I dare present a further question. If you do not, I’ll dare not ask.” “Between mother and son,” said the queen, “how could there be any criminal offense? Of course I’ll pardon you. Speak up, quickly!” The prince said, “Let me ask you this: are your relations with your husband just as warm and intimate as three years before?”
When the queen heard this question, her spirit left her and her soul fled. She dashed out of the pavilion and embraced the prince tightly as tears fell from her eyes. “My child,” she said, “I haven’t seen you for such a long time. Why do you come to the palace today and ask this question?” “Mother,” said the prince, becoming irritated. “If you have something to say, say it. If you don’t speak up, you might jeopardize a very important affair.” Only then did the queen dismiss all her attendants and spoke, quietly weeping, “This matter, if you, son, did not ask me, would never have come to light even when I reached the Nine Springs1 down below. Since you have asked me, listen to what I have to say:
Three years ago he was loving and warm;
For three years now he has been cold as ice.
By the pillows I’ve pressed him long and hard;
He said, ‘I’m old, I’m frail, I can’t make that something rise’!”
When the prince heard these words, he at once struggled free and mounted his horse once more. Clutching at him desperately, the queen said, “Child, what are you doing? Why do you leave before we finish speaking?” Again the prince knelt on the ground and said, “Mother, I dare not speak, though I must! During the time of the early court this morning, I went out by imperial decree to hunt with falcons and dogs. By chance I met a holy monk sent by the Throne in the Land of the East to fetch scriptures. He has under him a senior disciple by the name of Pilgrim Sun, who is an expert in the subjugation of fiends. I was told that my real father king had been murdered in the imperial garden; he died, in fact, in the well with the octagonal marble walls. It was the Daoist, who falsely changed into the form of father king and usurped his dragon seat. Last night, father king appeared to the monk in a dream and asked him to send his disciple to the city to catch this fiend. Your child did not dare believe them completely and that was why I came specially to question you. Now that mother has spoken like this, I know that there must be a monster-spirit here.”
“O son,” said the queen, “how could you take the words of some stranger outside as the truth?” The prince said, “I did not, but father king left them a sign.” When the queen asked what sort of sign it was, the prince took out that white jade token inlaid with gold and handed it to her. Recognizing at once it was a treasure that had belonged to the king, the queen could not hold back the torrents of tears. “My lord!” she cried. “How could you not come to see me first, if you had been dead for three years? How could you go to see the sage monk first, and then the prince afterwards?” “Mother,” said the prince, “what are you saying?” The queen said, “My child, I also had a dream last night at about the hour of the fourth watch. I dreamed that your father king stood before me dripping wet, and he told me himself that he was dead. His spirit, he said, had gone to plead with the Tang Monk to subdue the specious king and to save his former body. I clearly recall these words, but there is another half of the dream which I just cannot remember. I was speculating just now by myself when you arrived with your questions and this treasure. Let me put away the jade token for the moment. You should go and ask the sage monk to do what he must do quickly, so that the demonic miasma may be dispelled and the perverse and true can be distinguished. That’s the way you can repay your father king’s kindness in rearing you.”
Swiftly mounting his horse, the prince went out of the Rear Gate of the Servants and slipped away from the city. Truly
Holding back his tears, he kowtowed to leave the queen;
In grief he went to bow again to the Tang Monk.
In a little while, he was out of the city gate and went straight to the gate of the Precious Grove Monastery, where he dismounted. As the soldiers came to receive him, the sun began to set. The prince gave the order for the soldiers to remain where they were stationed. Again by himself, he walked inside after straightening out his clothes to solicit Pilgrim’s assistance.
Just then the Monkey King swaggered out from the main hall, and the prince at once went to his knees, saying, “Master, I’ve returned.” Pilgrim went forward to raise him, saying, “Please rise. Did you ask anyone when you reached the city?” “I did,” said the prince, and he gave a complete account of the conversation with his mother. Smiling gently, Pilgrim said, “If he is that cold, he must be the transformation of some kind of coldblooded creature. Don’t worry! Don’t worry! Let old Monkey get rid of him for you. But it’s getting late now, and I can’t move. You go back first, and I’ll arrive tomorrow morning.” Kowtowing repeatedly, the prince said, “Master, I’ll stay here to wait upon you until tomorrow, and then I can travel with you.” “That’s no good,” said Pilgrim. “If we enter the city together, the fiend would become suspicious; instead of a chance meeting, he’ll think that you have gone somewhere especially to fetch me. The whole arrangement will make him blame you, will it not?” “Even if I go back now,” said the prince, “he will still blame me.” “Why?” asked Pilgrim. The prince said, “I was commanded during the early court to lead this number of men and horses, of falcons and dogs, to leave the city. But when I go back today, I have no game to present to the throne. If he accuses me of being incapable and has me jailed in Youli,2 whom would you rely on when you enter the city in the morning? There is no one, after all, in the ranks who knows about this.”
“That’s nothing!” said Pilgrim. “You should have told me earlier about this, and I’d have found some game.” Dear Great Sage! Look at the way he shows off before the prince! With a bound he leaped straight up to the clouds, made the
magic sign, and recited the spell, Let Oṃ and Ram purify the Dharma-realm,
which summoned a mountain god and a local spirit. They arrived and bowed to him in midair, saying, “Great Sage, what is your wish when you command these humble deities to appear?” Pilgrim said, “Old Monkey arrives here in the company of the Tang Monk, and he now intends to catch a wicked demon. Unfortunately, the prince did not catch any game during the hunt and he dared not return to the court. I am, therefore, going to ask you for a small favor. Please find for us some fallow deer, antelopes, wild hares, and fowls—a few pieces of each kind—so that we can send him off.” Not daring to disobey when they heard this instruction, the mountain god and the local spirit inquired as to how many heads of wild game were needed. “It doesn’t matter,” said the Great Sage, “just bring us some.” The two deities, leading the demon soldiers under their command, called up a strong gust of dark wind to round up the wild animals. They caught some grouse and pheasants; horned deer and fat fallow deer; foxes, badgers, and hares; tigers, leopards, and wolves—all in all, several hundred of these which they brought before Pilgrim. Pilgrim said, “Old Monkey has no need of these. Pull out their leg tendons and place them on both sides of the forty-mile road leading back to the city. Those people will then be able to take them back without having to use falcons and dogs, and this will be counted as your merit.” The deities obeyed; calming the dark wind, they placed the game beside the road.
Pilgrim dropped down from the clouds and said to the prince, “Your Highness, please go back. There is game on the road that you may collect.” After having seen the kind of power Pilgrim displayed on top of the clouds, the prince had no doubts whatever. He kowtowed to take leave of Pilgrim before walking out of the monastery gate to order the soldiers to return to the city. As they journeyed, they found indeed a large number of wild game laid out on both sides of the road. Without releasing falcons and dogs, the soldiers caught them by merely lifting their hands. All of them, therefore, shouted bravos and congratulated the prince, saying that it was his great luck that brought them the game, but not knowing, of course, that it was the might of old Monkey. Listen to their songs of triumph as they proceeded back to the city!
Pilgrim, meanwhile, returned to protect Tripitaka. When those monks in the monastery saw how intimate the pilgrims had become with the prince, how could they dare not be reverent? They again prepared a vegetarian meal to serve to the Tang Monk, who then rested once more in the Zen hall. By about the hour of the first watch, Pilgrim, who had something on his mind, was unable to fall asleep. Rolling off his bed, he dashed up to the Tang Monk and cried, “Master.” The elder at this time actually was not yet asleep, but knowing that Pilgrim could be rather restless and frenetic, he pretended that he was and did not respond. Pilgrim caught hold of his bald head and started to shake it violently, crying, “Master, how is it that you are already asleep?”
“You rascal!” said the Tang Monk, growing angry. “You aren’t going to sleep at this hour? What are you clamoring for?”
“Master,” said Pilgrim, “I have a little matter that I want to discuss with you.” “What matter?” asked the elder.
Pilgrim said, “During the day I boasted to the prince that my abilities were higher than a mountain and greater than an ocean. To catch that monster-spirit, I said, was as easy as reaching for something in my pocket—all I had to do was to stretch forth my hand and take it. Now I can’t sleep, and when I think about the matter, I find that there’s some difficulty.”
“If you say that it’s going to be difficult,” said the Tang Monk, “then let’s not try to catch him.” “We still have to,” said Pilgrim, “but we cannot justify our action.” The Tang Monk said, “This ape is babbling again! The monster-spirit has usurped the throne of a ruler. What do you mean that we cannot justify our action?”
Pilgrim said, “Your venerable self only knows how to recite sūtras and worship Buddha, how to sit and meditate. Since when have you ever seen the legal codes established by Xiao He?3 The proverb says, ‘If you arrest a thief, you must seize him with the stolen goods.’ That fiend has been a king for three years, but he has not permitted his secret to leak out in any way. He has slept with the ladies of the three palaces, and he has ruled amiably with his two rows of civil and military officials. Even if old Monkey has the ability to arrest him, it will not be easy to convict him of his crime.”
“Why not?” asked the Tang Monk. Pilgrim said, “Even if he is a mouth-less gourd, he will have a row with you for awhile. Can’t you hear him? ‘I’m the king of the Black Rooster Kingdom. What offense against Heaven have I committed that you dare come to arrest me?’ What evidence do I have with which I can argue with him?” “What do you plan to do, then?” said the Tang Monk.
With a chuckle, Pilgrim said, “The plan of old Monkey is already made, but one obstacle I have to face right now is that you, Dear Sir, have a tendency to dote on people.” “What do you mean?” asked the Tang Monk. Pilgrim said, “Eight Rules is rather stupid, but you are somewhat partial to him.” “How am I partial to him?” asked the Tang Monk. “If you are not,” said Pilgrim, “then you should try to be more courageous and stay here with Sha Monk. Let old Monkey and Eight Rules take this opportunity now to go into the Black Rooster Kingdom first and find the imperial garden. We will break open the marble well and fish out the corpse of the true king, which we will wrap in our bags. When we enter the city tomorrow, we won’t bother with having our rescript certified; as soon as we see the fiend, I’ll attack him with my rod. If he has anything to say, we’ll show him the skeleton and tell him, ‘You killed this man!’ We can tell the prince to come out and mourn his father, the queen to give recognition to her husband, and the various officials to see their true lord. Old Monkey and the brothers, meanwhile, can lift our hands to fight. Now, that’s what I call a worthwhile litigation because there’s something we can go on!”
Secretly pleased by what he heard, the Tang Monk nevertheless said, “My only fear is that Eight Rules is unwilling to go with you.” “You see!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “I told you that you doted on him! How did you know that he would be unwilling to go? Perhaps you think that he’ll be like you when I called you just now, and after half an hour, I would give up. But watch me! If you let me go near him, I’ll use only my healthy, three-inch tongue to persuade him. Never mind that he is Zhu Eight Rules; even if he were Zhu Nine Rules, I would have the ability to make him go with me.” “All right,” said the Tang Monk, “you may go and rouse him.”
Walking away from his master, Pilgrim went straight up to the side of Eight Rules’s bed and shouted, “Eight Rules! Eight Rules!” Idiot, after all, was a man overcome by travel fatigue: once he put his head down, he snored so hard that nothing could wake him. Pilgrim finally grabbed his ears and took hold of his bristles; giving a terrific pull, he yanked Eight Rules right up while shouting, “Eight Rules!” Idiot was still shuddering when Pilgrim hollered again. Idiot mumbled, “Let’s sleep! Don’t play around! We have to travel tomorrow.” “I’m not playing,” said Pilgrim. “There’s some business that you and I must attend to.”
“What business?” asked Eight Rules. Pilgrim said, “Did you happen to hear what the prince said?” “I haven’t even seen him,” said Eight Rules. “I haven’t heard what he had to say.” “The prince told me,” said Pilgrim, “that that monster-spirit had in his possession a treasure that could overwhelm ten thousand warriors. When we enter the city tomorrow, we can’t avoid doing battle with him; but if that fiend brings out his treasure and defeats us, that won’t be good. So, I thought that if we couldn’t vanquish him, we should do something first. You and I, in fact, should go and steal his treasure. Isn’t that much better?” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “you are trying to persuade me to be a thief! Well, I know this sort of business, so I can be your customer. But let me say this to you clearly first: when we have stolen the treasure and subdued the monsterspirit, I won’t put up with this niggardly practice of dividing the loot. I’m going to keep the treasure.” “What for?” asked Pilgrim. “I’m not eloquent like all of you,” said Eight Rules, “and it’s not easy for me to beg for food. This body of old Hog is sluggish, and his words are dull. Moreover, I can’t even recite sūtras. When I get to those wild, uninhabited places, I have hopes that I can exchange the treasure for food.” Pilgrim said, “Old Monkey is only concerned with acquiring a reputation, not a treasure. Of course I’ll give it to you.” When Idiot heard that it was to be given to him, he was delighted and scrambled up at once. Climbing into his clothes, he left with Pilgrim. Truly as the saying goes:
Even clear wine reddens a man’s face,
And yellow gold moves the mind of Dao.
The two of them opened the door stealthily and slipped away from Tripitaka; mounting the auspicious luminosity, they headed straight for the city.
In a little while, they reached their destination; as they lowered their clouds, they heard the sound of the second watch struck from a tower. “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “it’s the second watch.” “Just right!” said Eight Rules. “Everybody is sleeping soundly inside.” Instead of heading for the Central Gate of the Sun, the two of them went to the Rear Gate of the Servants, where they heard also the sound of the rattle struck by guards on patrol. “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “the front and rear gates are all tightly guarded. How can we get in?” Eight Rules said, “Have you ever seen a thief walking through a door? Let’s just jump over the wall.” Pilgrim agreed and leaped at once onto the palace wall, followed by Eight Rules. Sneaking inside, the two of them searched for their way to the imperial garden.
As they walked along, they came upon a towered gate with triple eaves and flying white banners. Painted on top of the gate were three large words that were luminescent in the light of the stars and moon: “The Imperial Garden.” When Pilgrim drew near and saw that the gate was locked and sealed with several layers of crossed strips of paper, he told Eight Rules to go to work. Idiot lifted up his iron rake and brought it down on the gate as hard as he could: the gate was pulverized at once. Pilgrim led the way to enter the garden, but no sooner had he stepped inside when he began to jump up and down, whooping and howling. Eight Rules was so startled that he ran forward to tug at him, saying, “Elder Brother, you scare me to death! I have never seen a thief bellowing like that! If you wake up the people and they catch us and send us to court, even if we are not executed we would be banished to our native province for military service.”
“Brother,” said Pilgrim, “you may wonder why I’m making such a fuss. Just look at those
Carved and painted railings in ruin;
Bejeweled sheds and towers crumbling;
Banks of sedges and smart-weeds all buried in dirt;
Peonia and tumi4 both wilted.
The scent of jasmines and roses is slight;
Tree-peonias and lilies bloom vainly.
Hibiscus, a few kinds, give way to bushes and shrubs;
Rare flowers and plants all perish.
Artificial rock mountains collapse;
Ponds dry up and fishes decline.
Green pines, purple bamboos—they’re like dried firewood;
Wormwood and artemisia grow rank on the paths.
From cassia and peach trees twigs break off;
Roots of pear and plum trees are upturned.
There’s green moss on the bridge-head’s winding path:
The scene of this garden’s desolate!”5
“Why waste your breath in this lamentation?” said Eight Rules. “Let’s go finish our business quickly.” Though Pilgrim was saddened by what he saw, he also thought of the dream of the Tang Monk, when he was told that the well could be found only beneath a plantain tree. As they walked along, they saw indeed such a tree, whose luxuriant growth was quite different from the other plants. Truly she is
A fine, spiritual root of a kind,
Her empty self’s6 Heaven-endowed.
Every branch is thin like paper;
Every leaf can fold like a petal;
A thousand fine strands of green
Enclose one cinnabar heart within.
She grieves when saddened by night rain
And droops for fear of autumn’s wind.
She grows in the primal strength of Heav’n;
Her nurture’s the work of Creation.
A parchment forms her wondrous usage;
As a fan she makes rare merit.
How could phoenix plumes approximate her?
Could e’en phoenix tails resemble her?
Bathed in droplets of light dew,
Swathed in slender wisps of smoke,
Her green shade shrouds windows and doors;
Her green shadow mounts curtains and screens.
Wild geese aren’t allowed to perch here,
Nor may horses be tied to her.
A frigid sky will make her dejected,
A moonlit night her colors faint.
She can only dispel high heat
And protects from the scorching sun.
Bashful for lacking the peach and pear’s charm,
She stands alone east of the white wall.
“Eight Rules,” said Pilgrim, “let’s get started. The treasure’s buried beneath the plantain tree.” Idiot lifted his rake with both hands and toppled the plantain tree, after which he used his snout to burrow into the ground. After digging up some three or four feet of dirt, he discovered a slab of stone. Delighted, Idiot said, “Elder Brother, we’re lucky! There’s indeed a treasure here, covered by a slab of stone. I wonder if it’s contained in a jar or a box.”
“Lift the stone up and take a look,” said Pilgrim.
Idiot indeed used his snout to give the slab of stone a shove; immediately, glimmering shafts of light shot up. Laughing, Eight Rules said, “Lucky! Lucky! The treasure’s glowing.” He went forward to take another careful look and saw that it was actually the glow of the stars and moon reflected in the water of a well. “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “when you want to do something, you ought to get to the bottom of it.” “How so?” asked Pilgrim. Eight Rules said, “This is a well. If you had told me in the monastery that the treasure would be found in a well, I would have brought along those two ropes we use to tie our bags. Then we would have been able to find a way to lower old Hog down there. Now we’re empty-handed. How could we go down there to fetch the thing up here?” “You want to go down there?” asked Pilgrim. “Of course,” said Eight Rules, “but we have no ropes.” “Take off your clothes,” said Pilgrim, “and I’ll give you the means.” Eight Rules said, “I don’t have any good clothes! All I have to do is untie this shirt.”
Dear Great Sage! He took out his golden-hooped rod and gave both its ends a pull, crying, “Grow!” It grew to about seventy or eighty feet long. “Eight Rules,” he said, “you grab hold of one end, and I’ll let you down the well.” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “you can do that, but when we reach the surface of the water, you stop.” “I know,” said Pilgrim. Idiot then wrapped himself around the rod at one end, and with no effort at all Pilgrim picked him up and lowered him into the well. In a little while, they reached the edge of the water and Eight Rules said, “We’re touching water.” When Pilgrim heard that, he gave the rod a plunge downward and with a loud splash Idiot fell into the water headfirst. Abandoning the iron rod, he began at once to tread water, muttering to himself, “Damn him! I told him to stop when we reached water, but he gave me a plunge instead.” Pilgrim retrieved his rod and said, laughing, “Brother, is there any treasure?”
“What treasure?” said Eight Rules, “only a well of water!”
Pilgrim said, “The treasure has sunk deep into the water. Why don’t you go below and feel around?” Idiot indeed knew well the nature of water; he ducked his head under the surface and dove straight down. Ah, the well was extremely deep! He plunged hard a second time before opening his eyes to look around, and he saw all at once a towered edifice, on which were written the three words, “Water Crystal Palace.” Highly shaken, Eight Rules said, “Undone! Undone! I got on the wrong way. I must have fallen into the ocean, for only the ocean has a Water Crystal Palace. How could there be one in a well?” Eight Rules, you see, did not know that this happened to be the palace of the Well Dragon King.
As Eight Rules was speaking to himself, a yakṣa on patrol opened the gate of the palace. When he saw what he saw, he ran inside to report, saying, “Great King, disaster! From the well above fell a monk with a long snout and huge ears, stark naked and without a stitch of clothing. He isn’t dead yet, and he is talking.” When the Well Dragon King heard this, he was greatly startled. “This must be the Marshal of Heavenly Reeds. Last night the Night Patrol God came here by imperial decree from above to take the soul of the king of the Black Rooster Kingdom to see the Tang Monk. They were to ask the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, to subdue a fiend. This has to be the Great Sage and the Marshal of Heavenly Reeds. We should not treat them rudely. Hurry, we must welcome them.”
Straightening out his clothes, the dragon king led his water kinsmen out the door and cried in a loud voice, “Marshal of Heavenly Reeds, please take a seat inside.” Eight Rules became very pleased and said to himself, “So there’s a friend here!” Without regard for etiquette or decency, Idiot walked right into the Water Crystal Palace and, still stark naked, took the honored seat above. “Marshal,” said the dragon king, “I heard recently that your life was spared when you embraced the Buddhist faith to accompany the Tang Monk to acquire scriptures in the Western Heaven. For what reason have you come here?” “I was just about to tell you that,” said Eight Rules. “My elder brother, Sun Wukong, wanted to send you his most earnest greetings. He told me to come to ask you for a certain treasure.”
“That’s pitiful!” said the dragon king. “Where do I have any treasure around here? I’m not like those other dragon kings of such big rivers as the Yangzi, the Yellow River, the Huai, and the Ji. When they can fly and soar through the air most of the time to transform, they will have treasures. I have been stuck here for a long time; I can’t even get to see the sun and the moon regularly. Where would I get any treasures?” “Don’t refuse me,” said Eight Rules. “If you have any, bring them out.” “I do have just one treasure,” said the dragon king, “but I can’t bring it out. The Marshal himself will have to go and take a look. How about it?” “Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!” said Eight Rules. “I’ll go and take a look.”
The dragon king walked in front, while Idiot followed. They passed the Water Crystal Palace and came upon a long corridor, inside of which they found a sixfoot corpse. Pointing with his finger, the dragon king said, “Marshal, that’s the treasure.” Eight Rules went forward to look at it. Ah, it was actually a dead king; still wearing a rising-to-Heaven cap, a reddish brown robe, a pair of carefree boots, and a jade belt, he lay there stiff as a board. “Hard! Hard! Hard!” said Eight Rules, chuckling. “This can’t be considered a treasure! When I recall the time when old Hog was a monster in the mountain, this thing was frequently used as food. Don’t ask me how many such things I have seen—even as far as eating was concerned, I have consumed countless numbers. How could you call this a treasure?”
“So you don’t know, Marshal,” said the dragon king, “that he is actually the corpse of the king of the Black Rooster Kingdom. Since he reached the well, I have embalmed him with a feature-preserving pearl so that he won’t deteriorate. If you are willing to carry him out of here on your back to see the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, who, by the way, may have the wish to revive him, don’t speak of treasures—you can have anything you want.” “In that case,” said Eight Rules, “I’ll carry him out on my back for you. But how much cartage are you going to pay me?” The dragon king said, “I don’t have any money.” “You want to use people free!” said Eight Rules. “If you really don’t have any money, I won’t carry him.” “If you don’t,” said the dragon king, “please go.” Eight Rules left at once. The dragon king, however, ordered two powerful yakṣas to haul the corpse out of the Water Crystal Palace’s gate. They threw him down, took off the waterrepelling pearl, and water began to close in on all sides noisily.
Turning around quickly to look, Eight Rules could no longer see the gate of the Water Crystal Palace. When he stretched out his hands, all he could lay hold of was the corpse of the king, the touch of which made his legs weaken and his tendons turn numb with fear. He darted up to the surface of the water; with his hands clinging to the wall of the well, he shouted, “Elder Brother, stick your rod down here to save me!” “Is there any treasure?” asked Pilgrim. Eight Rules said, “There isn’t any! Beneath the water, however, there’s a Well Dragon King, who told me to carry a dead man on my back. I wouldn’t do it, and he sent me out the door; that was when his Water Crystal Palace disappeared also. When I felt that corpse, I was so scared that my hands grew weak and my tendons turned numb; I could hardly move. Elder Brother, for good or ill please save me.”
“That’s precisely the treasure,” said Pilgrim. “Why won’t you carry him up here?” Eight Rules said, “He must have been dead for quite awhile. Why should I carry him on my back?” “If you won’t,” said Pilgrim, “I’ll go back.”
“Where?” asked Eight Rules.
“I’m going back to the monastery,” said Pilgrim, “to get some sleep with Master.” “You mean I can’t go with you?” said Eight Rules.
Pilgrim said, “If you can climb up here, I’ll take you back with me; if you can’t, well that’s it!” Eight Rules was horrified, for how could he possibly climb up the well. “Take a look,” he yelled. “Even the city wall was hard to scale already, whereas this well is large down below with a small mouth on top. All around the circular wall is straight up and down. Moreover, it has been such a long time since anyone has bailed water from this well that it’s covered with moss everywhere. It’s terribly slippery. How could I possibly climb it? Elder Brother, let’s not upset our fraternal feelings, let me go and carry him up on my back.” “Exactly,” said Pilgrim. “Do it quickly, and I’ll go back with you to sleep.”
Idiot put his head underwater again and dove straight down; after he found the corpse, he pulled it onto his back and shot back up to the surface. Supporting himself on the wall of the well, he cried, “Elder Brother, I’m carrying him.” Pilgrim stared into the well and saw that the body was indeed placed on Eight Rules’s back. Only then did he lower the golden-hooped rod into the well. A man who had been sorely tried, Idiot opened his mouth and held on to the tip of the iron rod with his teeth; he was then lifted up out of the well by Pilgrim with no effort at all.
Putting down the corpse, Eight Rules grabbed his own clothes and put them on. When Pilgrim took a look, he found that the features of the dead king had not altered in the slightest—it was as if he were still alive. “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “this man has been dead for three years. How could his features not deteriorate?” “You have no idea about this,” said Eight Rules. “This Well Dragon said to me that he had embalmed the corpse with a feature-preserving pearl, and that’s why it has not deteriorated.” “Lucky! Lucky!” said Pilgrim. “This has to mean that his wrong has yet to be requited, and that we are fated to succeed. Brother, put him on your back again quickly and we’ll leave.”
“Where do you want me to carry him?” asked Eight Rules.
“To see Master,” said Pilgrim.
Eight Rules began to grumble, saying, “How am I going to live with this? I was sleeping nicely when this monkey fooled me with his clever talk into doing this so-called business with him. It turns out to be this sort of enterprise— carrying a dead man on my back! When I carry him, some putrid stinking fluid is bound to drip on me and soil my clothes, and there is no one ready to wash and starch them for me. The few patches on my garment may even turn damp again when the sky is grey. How can I wear them?”
“Look, you just carry him,” said Pilgrim, “and when we get to the monastery, I’ll exchange clothes with you.” “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” asked Eight Rules. “You have hardly anything to wear, and you are going to exchange clothes with me?” Pilgrim said, “Oh, you are so smart mouthed! You aren’t going to carry him?” “No!” said Eight Rules. “Stick out your shanks then,” said Pilgrim, “and I’ll give you twenty strokes of my rod!” Horrified, Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother, that’s a heavy rod! If you give me twenty strokes, I’d be like this king!” “If you are afraid of being beaten,” said Pilgrim, “then hurry up and put him on your back so that we can leave.” Eight Rules was indeed afraid of being beaten; rather listlessly, he yanked the corpse over and put it on his back before turning to walk out of the garden.
Dear Great Sage! Making the magic sign with his fingers, he recited a spell and sucked in a mouthful of air facing the ground in the southwest. When he blew it out, a violent gust immediately arose and lifted Eight Rules out of the palace. They left the city instantly; as the wind subsided, the two of them dropped to the ground and proceeded slowly on foot. Nursing his rage in silence, Idiot planned to repay Pilgrim in kind, saying to himself, “This monkey has pulled a nice prank on me, but when I get to the monastery I’m going to pull one on him, too. I’m going to persuade Master to insist on restoring the king back to life. If that monkey can’t do it, I’ll make Master recite that Tight-Fillet Spell until this monkey’s brains burst. That will give me some relief!” He walked along and thought further to himself, “No good, no good! If you make him heal the man, all he has to do is to go and ask King Yama for the soul, and the man will live again. I must set the conditions so that he won’t be permitted to go to the Region of Darkness; the king has to be restored to life through some means found in the World of Light. Only such a plan is good.”
Hardly had he finished speaking to himself when they reached the gate of the monastery. Eight Rules walked right through it and went up to the door of the Chan hall, where he threw down the corpse and cried, “Master, get up and look at this.” Unable to sleep, Tripitaka was just chatting with Sha Monk on how Pilgrim had deceived Eight Rules into going with him, and how they did not return after such a long time. When he heard the call, the Tang Monk quickly arose and said, “Disciple, what do you want me to look at?”
“The grandpa of Pilgrim,” said Eight Rules, “whom old Hog has brought back on his back.” “You pie-eyed Idiot!” said Pilgrim. “Where do I have a grandpa?” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “if he isn’t your grandpa, why did you ask old Hog to bear him here? You don’t know how much energy I’ve wasted!”
The Tang Monk and Sha Monk opened the door to look, and they discovered that the countenance of the king had not altered at all. Turning sad all at once, the elder said, “Your Majesty, in which previous existence did you incur an enemy who had to catch up with you in this one and cause you to lose your life? Alas, you left your wife and your child, unknown to all the civil and military officials! Pity your wife who’s still in the dark! Who will burn incense or pour tea for you?” He was so broken up that he could not speak anymore as tears rained down his cheeks.
“Master,” said Eight Rules, laughing, “what does his death have to do with you? He isn’t one of your ancestors. Why weep for him?” “O disciple!” said the Tang Monk, “the fundamental principle of life for those who have left the family is compassion. How could you be so hardhearted?” “I’m not hardhearted,” said Eight Rules, “for Elder Brother told me that he could restore him to life. If he couldn’t, I wouldn’t have carried him back here.” This elder, after all, had a head full of water! Shaken by these few words of Idiot, he said at once, “Wukong, if you indeed have the ability to restore this king to life, you would have accomplished something greater than building a seven-storied stūpa. And even we would have been benefited as if we had worshipped Buddha in the Spirit Mountain.”
Pilgrim said, “Master, how could you believe the nonsense of this Idiot! When a man dies, he can pass through the periods of three times seven or five times seven; at most, he may wait for seven hundred days, when after having suffered for all the sins committed in the World of Light, he will then proceed to the next incarnation. This man here died three years ago. How could I revive him?” When Tripitaka heard these words, he said, “Oh, all right!”
Still bitterly resentful, however, Eight Rules said, “Master, don’t believe him. He’s a little sick in his brain! Just recite that little something of yours, and you are certain to get a living man.” The Tang Monk indeed began to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell, and the monkey had such a headache that his eyes bulged. We do not know how he managed to heal the dead king; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.