The story continues: the monster had the Sha Monk bound, but neither killed him nor beat him, nor so much as scolded him. Taking up his steel blade, he communed with himself in secret: "This Tang monk is a personage of a great empire; he must know propriety and right. Surely he would not have spared my life and then sent his disciples to seize me? Ah—it must be that wife of mine has sent some letter to that kingdom of hers, and the news has leaked! I'll go question her."
Then a sudden ferocity rose in the monster, and he would have killed the princess.
Now the princess knew nothing of it. She had just finished her toilette and came tripping forward, to find the monster glaring, brows knotted, gnashing his teeth. Still she met him with a smiling face: "What troubles you so, lord?"
"You dog-hearted, worthless woman!" the monster burst out. "No sense of human bonds at all! When I first brought you here, you had not half a word to say against it. The brocade you wear, the gold you deck yourself in—whatever you lacked I went and found; the comforts of all four seasons, the tender love of every day! How is it you think only of your father and mother, without one spark of a wife's heart?"
At this the princess fell to her knees in terror: "Lord, why do you speak of parting today?"
"Parting for you, or parting for me—that remains to be seen!" said the monster. "I had caught that Tang monk and was reckoning on enjoying him; why did you not tell me first, and set him free? It was you who secretly wrote a letter and had him carry it for you—else how came those two monks battering at my gate, demanding that I send you home? Was this not your doing?"
"Lord, you wrong me. When did I ever send any letter?"
"Still you wrangle! Here I hold the very witness—what better proof could there be?"
"Who is it?"
"The Tang monk's second disciple, the Sha Monk."
Now when a man stands at death's door, who is willing to die? She could only brazen it out.
"Lord, calm your anger," said the princess, "and let us go ask him together. If there truly was a letter, then beat me to death and I shall bear it gladly; but if there was no letter, would you not have killed your slave-girl for nothing?"
At that the monster would hear no more. He swung open a blue-indigo hand big as a winnowing basket, seized the princess by her ten thousand golden-thread, jade-leaf hairs, dragged her forward, flung her to the ground, and with steel blade in hand came to try the Sha Monk, snapping: "Sha Monk! You two had the gall to come battering at our gates—was it that this woman sent a letter to that kingdom, and the king sent you?"
The Sha Monk, bound there, saw how savage the demon was—had thrown the princess to the ground, blade in hand, ready to kill. And he thought to himself: "Plainly it was she who sent the letter and saved my master—a kindness beyond all measure. If I say so outright, he will kill the princess—and would that not be repaying kindness with enmity? Enough, enough! Old Sha has followed my master all this way without one inch of merit to repay him. Today I am already bound; let this life of mine repay my master's debt of kindness."
So he shouted: "You monster, no more of your savagery! What letter had she, that you wrong her so and would take her life? We came here to demand the princess of you for a reason. Because you trapped my master in your cave, my master saw the princess—her looks, her ways. When we reached Baoxiang to have our documents examined, the emperor had portraits of the princess drawn and inquiries made everywhere; and he asked my master whether along the road he had seen any likeness of her. So my master spoke of the princess, and the emperor knew her for his child, and bestowed on us the imperial wine, sending us to seize you and bring his princess back to the palace. That is the truth of it—what letter was ever written? If you mean to kill, kill old Sha; do not murder the innocent—it would be a grievous wrong against the Way of Heaven!"
Hearing the Sha Monk speak so boldly, the demon dropped his blade, raised the princess in both arms, and said: "I was rough and hot-headed, and gave you offense—forgive me, forgive me." Then he smoothed her black tresses, set her hair high upon her head in its jeweled knot, all gentleness and warmth, smiling and soothing, coaxed her within, seated her in the place of honor, and made his apology. The princess, being a woman of watery heart, saw him so earnest in his respect, and her heart turned once more: "Lord, if you remember the love of husband and wife, have them loosen the Sha Monk's ropes a little." At that the old demon ordered the little ones to untie the Sha Monk and lock him up there.
The Sha Monk, freed but locked away, rose to his feet and rejoiced inwardly: "As the ancients said, 'Give another convenience, and you give yourself convenience.' Had I not given her convenience, would he ever have had them loosen my bonds?"
Then the old demon ordered a banquet laid, to apologize to the princess and steady her fright.
When they had drunk to half-merry, the old demon suddenly changed into fresh, bright clothes, took a precious sword and hung it at his waist, and turning, stroked the princess: "Wife, you stay home and drink, and mind our two children—and do not let the Sha Monk go. While that Tang monk is in that kingdom, I'll make an early call and pay my respects to the family."
"What family?" asked the princess.
"Your royal father. I am his son-in-law; he is my father-in-law—how could I not go and be recognized?"
"You cannot go."
"Why can I not go?"
"My royal father's kingdom was not won by horses and battle; it is a patrimony handed down from his ancestors. Crowned as crown prince from childhood, he has never traveled far beyond the city gates, and has never seen such a fierce fellow as you. With that face and those looks of yours, so frightfully ugly, the sight of you might scare him—and that would spoil everything. Better by far not to go at all."
"In that case, I shall change into a handsome fellow and go."
"Change then, and let me see."
A cunning monster! Right there amid the banquet he shook his body and turned into a handsome young man. And truly he looked:
Refined and elegant of bearing, striking and tall of frame, His speech in the courtly style, His bearing at the very flower of youth. His talent—like Zijian's, he could toss off a poem with ease; His looks—like Pan An's, he might catch the tossed fruit of admiring girls.
[Translator's note: Zijian, the poet Cao Zhi, proverbial for genius; Pan An, proverbial for male beauty, so handsome that women threw fruit at him.]
On his head a magpie-tail cap, his raven hair sleeked down; On his body a gown of gauzy jade-silk, wide sleeves floating welcome. On his feet black boots with flowered folds; At his waist a phoenix belt, gleaming bright. In spirit truly a marvelous man, Lofty as a ravine, towering as the sky—a fine and handsome lord.
The princess was delighted at the sight.
The demon laughed: "Well, wife—is it a good change or not?"
"A good change! A good change! But once you enter the court, my royal father, whose love of kin cannot be extinguished, will surely have the civil and military officials keep you for wine and feasting. If amid the drinking—oh, be careful a thousand times, be wary ten thousand times—do not let your true face show, or the cat's paws peep out, or the news leak, and then there will be no more gentility about you!"
"No need for instructions," said the old demon. "I know what to do."
Watch him mount his cloud; soon he reached the Kingdom of Baoxiang, pressed down his cloud-light, walked to the outer gate of the court, and said to the ambassador of the palace gates: "The third royal son-in-law comes especially to see the throne; I beg you transmit my request."
The officer of the yellow gates came before the white jade steps and memorialized: "Ten Thousand Years! The third royal son-in-law requests audience, and awaits the summons outside the court gates."
The king, who was talking with the Tang monk, started at the words "third son-in-law," and asked his officials: "We have only two sons-in-law. How comes there a third?"
"The third son-in-law," said the officials, "must surely be the demon."
"Shall We summon him in?"
The elder's heart quailed: "Your Majesty, a demon is called a demon because what is not jing is not numinous.
[Translator's note: a play on words—the character jing 精 means both "demon" and "essence, subtlety."]
He can know past and future; he can ride the clouds. Summon him, and he comes in; do not summon him, and he comes in all the same. Better summon him in—it will spare us a quarrel."
The king approved, and gave the summons. The monster was led before the golden steps, where he too performed the dance of homage and the mountain-shout of obeisance. The officials, seeing him so handsome, dared not take him for a demon; with their fleshly eyes and common bodies, they took him for a good man. The king, seeing him tower ravine-high and heaven-high, took him for a pillar that would uphold the age, and asked: "Son-in-law, where is your home? Of what land are you? When did you wed Our princess? How is it you come to be recognized only today?"
The old demon knocked his head: "Sovereign lord, your servant is of a household of Bo Moon Manor on Bowl Mountain, east of the city."
"How far is that mountain from here?"
"Not far—only three hundred li."
"Three hundred li of road—how could Our princess have gotten there, to be wedded to you?"
With glib words and flowery phrases, all false feeling and sham intent, the demon answered: "Sovereign lord, from childhood your servant loved the bow and the horse, and lived by hunting. Thirteen years ago, leading several dozen household servants, hawks flying and dogs running, I suddenly spied a fierce tiger, striped and dappled, carrying a woman on its back, making down the mountainside. Your servant drew his bow and with one arrow brought the tiger down; then he carried the woman to my manor, revived her with warm water and warm broth, and saved her life. When I asked her of what house she was, she never once breathed the word 'princess.' Had she said she was Your Majesty's third daughter, how would I have dared deceive my heart and wed her on my own? I would have presented her on the golden throne, and begged some office, great or small, for my honor. But because she said she was the daughter of a common family, your servant kept her at the manor—and beauty matched with talent, both of one mind, we were wed, and so the years have passed. After the wedding, I meant to slaughter that tiger and invite all my kin to the feast, but the princess bade me spare it. The reason she gave was put in a few very fine words:
'To Heaven and Earth we trust, to make us man and wife; No go-between, no witness, joined us in our vow. The red thread had bound our feet together in a life before— So let the tiger stand for matchmaker now.'
"For those words your servant loosed the tiger's cords and spared its life. With its arrow wound, off it went, kicking up its heels and lashing its tail. Who knew that, winning its life, it would cultivate in those mountains these several years, tempering its body into a spirit, bent wholly on beguiling men and destroying them? Your servant has heard that in years past there were others who went seeking the scriptures, all said to be the Tang monk from the Great Tang. I fear this tiger did away with the Tang monk, took his papers, and changed itself into the likeness of a scripture-seeker, and now stands in the court deceiving Your Majesty. Sovereign lord—upon that embroidered stool sits the very fierce tiger that carried off the princess thirteen years ago! He is no true scripture-seeker at all!"
And that king of watery will, with his deluded fleshly eyes that could not tell a demon, took the monster's every lying word for solid truth: "Worthy son-in-law, how came you to know this monk for the old tiger that carried off the princess?"
"Sovereign lord," said the demon, "in the mountains I ate tiger and I wore tiger; I slept with them and rose with them—how could I not know one?"
"If you know him, make him show his true form for Us to see."
"Lend me half a cup of pure water," said the monster, "and I shall make him show his true form."
The king bade an officer fetch water and hand it to the son-in-law. Taking the water in his hand, the monster sprang up, came forward, used the black-eye body-fixing spell, muttered a spell-word, spewed the water full in the Tang monk's face, and cried "Change!" The elder's true body vanished from the hall, and he turned into a fierce striped tiger. Then sovereign and courtiers saw with one accord what that tiger looked like:
A white brow and a round head, a flowered body and lightning eyes. Four legs thrust straight and stark; Twenty claws hooked, curved, and sharp. Saw teeth filling the mouth; pointed ears reaching the brows. Savage as some monstrous great cat in shape, Fierce and mighty as a yellow calf in form. Stiff whiskers stick straight out like silver rods; Its flicking tongue, quick and supple, breathes out evil fumes. Truly a fierce and dappled beast of prey— Gust on gust of awesome wind fills the precious hall.
At the sight, the king's soul flew and his spirit scattered, and the officials all fled to hide. A few bolder generals led the officers and men in a rush forward, hacking away with every sort of weapon. Had it not been that the Tang monk was fated not to die—even twenty monks would have been beaten to a pulp. At that moment, luckily, the Dings and Jias, the Guardians, the Duty Officers, and the Protectors of the Faith were secretly shielding him in mid-air, so that all those men's weapons could not wound him.
The ministers raged till nightfall, when at last they took the tiger alive, locked it with iron chains, put it in an iron cage, and confined it in the court chamber.
The king then gave orders for the Court of Imperial Entertainments to spread a grand banquet, in thanks to the son-in-law for his saving rescue—else they had all but perished at that monk's hands. That evening the court dispersed, and the demon entered the Hall of Silver Peace. There he chose eighteen palace beauties to play and sing and dance, plying the demon with wine and merriment. The monster sat alone at the head, with ranks of delicate beauty on either hand—watch him enjoy himself!
When the drinking had gone past the second watch, and drunkenness rose in him, he could no longer hold in his true nature: he leapt up with a great laugh, showed his own form, and suddenly gave rein to his cruel heart. Spreading his basket-sized paw, he snatched over a lute-playing girl and crunched a bite from her head. The seventeen palace beauties fled for their lives, running and hiding in every direction. Just look at them:
The palace maids in terror, the painted ladies in panic. The palace maids in terror—like hibiscus beaten by night rain; The painted ladies in panic—like peonies dancing in the spring wind. They smash the lute to save their lives; They tumble, injuring themselves on zithers, to escape. Out the door, they cannot tell south from north; Fleeing the hall, they never mind east or west. Jade faces bumped and bruised, Delicate features cracked and torn. Every one runs for her life, Each and all scattering to save themselves.
And those who got out dared not cry out; the night being deep, they dared not alarm the throne; they all hid beneath the low walls and eaves, trembling. Of them we say no more.
Now the monster sat above, pouring and drinking for himself. With each cup he dragged over a body and gnawed a couple of bloody mouthfuls. Inside, he feasted; outside, word ran from mouth to mouth: "The Tang monk is a tiger spirit!" The rumor flew and swelled, till it reached the Gilded Pavilion post station. By then the station was empty—only the white horse stood at the trough, eating its hay and grain.
He was, in truth, the little dragon prince of the Western Sea, who for a crime against the heavenly code had been sawed of horn and stripped of scales, changed into a white horse, and set to bear the Tang monk westward for the scriptures. Suddenly he heard people say the Tang monk was a tiger spirit, and he too communed with himself: "My master is plainly a good man; some monster must have changed him into a tiger spirit and done him harm. What's to be done? What's to be done? Eldest Brother has been gone so long—and not a word from Bajie or the Sha Monk!"
He held out till the second watch, when all sounds were still; then at last he leapt up, saying: "If I do not save the Tang monk tonight, this work of merit is finished! Finished!"
He could bear it no longer: he snapped the halter, shook loose the saddle and bridle, sprang up in haste and revealed his transformation, became a dragon again, mounted the black clouds, and rose straight into the ninth heaven to look about. There is a poem in proof:
Sanzang came west to worship the World-Honored One, And on the road met wicked demon mist. Tonight, changed to a tiger, he cannot 'scape his doom— The white horse, drooping his rein, must save his lord.
From mid-air the little dragon saw the Hall of Silver Peace ablaze with lanterns and candles—upon the eight vermilion candelabra burned eight tall candles. He lowered his cloud and looked carefully: the demon sat alone above, coolly drinking wine and eating human flesh.
The little dragon laughed: "This wretch is a failure! The cat's paws are out, the game is up, and still he flattens the scales and eats men—he's really going places! But where my master is now, I do not know—only this wicked monster stands in the way. Wait—let me go play a trick on him. If I get my chance, it will be no too late to seize the demon and save my master."
A fine dragon prince! He shook his body, changed into a palace beauty—light of body, charming of bearing—and tripped quickly within. To the demon she made a deep curtsy: "Son-in-law, pray do not take my life. I have come to pour your wine."
"Pour, then," said the demon.
The little dragon took the flagon and filled his cup; the wine stood a third of an inch above the brim of the cup, yet did not spill over. This was the little dragon's water-pinning spell. The monster did not know it, and rejoiced: "You have real skill!"
"I can pour it a good bit higher still," said the little dragon.
"Pour higher, then! Pour higher!" And he held up the cup while she poured, and the wine rose only the higher—like a thirteen-story pagoda, tapering to its tip, brimming full, and never a drop spilling over. The monster stretched his snout over, drank off one cup, dragged over a dead body and took a bite, then asked: "Can you sing?"
"I know a little," said the little dragon, and to tune and rhythm sang a little song, and offered another cup.
"Can you dance?" asked the demon.
"I know a little of that too—but with empty hands, it will not look well."
The monster lifted his robe, unbuckled the precious sword he wore at his waist, drew it from its sheath, and handed it to the little dragon. The little dragon took the blade and kept his wits about him: before the banquet he wheeled it—up three, down four, left five, right six—and put forth the flowered sword-play. The demon watched open-eyed; and the little dragon dropped the flowers of the art and slashed at the demon's head.
A cunning monster! He dodged aside in a flash—but in his flurry he seized a candelabrum and parried the precious blade. The candelabrum was wrought of solid iron, eight or ninety pounds with the handle. Out of the Hall of Silver Peace they went; the little dragon showed his true form, mounted the clouds, and fought the demon there in mid-air. And what a battle in the dark! See it:
That one, a monster bred on Bowl Mountain; This one, a true dragon banished from the Western Sea. One sheds its rays like spitting white lightning; One breathes its valor like bursting red clouds. One is like a white-tusked elephant come down among men; One like a golden-clawed wildcat flown to the world below. One a jade pillar upholding Heaven; One a golden beam bridging the seas. A silver dragon wheels and dances; A yellow fiend rolls and tumbles. On left and right the precious blade knows no slack; Back and forth, without rest, swings the candelabrum.
The two of them fought eight or nine rounds in the clouds, and the little dragon's hands went soft and his sinews numb, while the old demon's body stayed strong. The little dragon, unable to hold out, sent his blade flying at the demon; but the demon had the art of catching blades—caught the precious sword in one hand, and with the other flung down the candelabrum and struck. The little dragon had no time to parry: the blow caught him on the hind leg. In frantic haste he pressed down his cloud—and it was the imperial water river that saved his life.
The little dragon plunged beneath the water. The demon chased and hunted for him in vain, then took his precious blade and his candelabrum, returned to the Hall of Silver Peace, and drank his wine and slept as before. Of him we say no more.
Now the little dragon lurked at the bottom of the water; half a watch passed without a sound, and only then did he clench his teeth, endure the pain in his leg, leap up, tread the black clouds, and return straight to the post station, where he changed back into the horse as before and lay down by the trough. Poor thing—soaked to the skin, the leg bearing its wound. Then it was:
The horse of the will and ape of the mind both scattered and lost; Metal Lord and Wood Mother both withered and fallen. The Yellow Dame is wounded and all are parted— With the Way dissolved and duty frayed, how can the work be done!
Leaving Sanzang in his calamity and the little dragon in his defeat, the story tells of Zhu Bajie. Ever since he left the Sha Monk, he had buried himself in the grass, rooting himself out a pig-shaped wallow. That one sleep lasted till well past midnight. Waking, he did not even know where he was; he rubbed his eyes, gathered his wits, and cocked an ear to listen—ah! Just as the saying goes:
Deep in the mountains, no dog barking; Wild on the wastes, few cocks crowing.
He saw the stars wheeling and the Dipper turning; it was about the third watch. "If I go back to rescue the Sha Monk," he thought, "truly one thread makes no cord and one palm cannot clap. Enough! Enough! I shall go into the city, see Master, get the reigning emperor's sanction, pick a troop of doughty men, and come with old Pig tomorrow to rescue the Sha Monk."
The blockhead leapt at once upon his cloud and made straight back for the city; in half an instant he reached the post station. All was still, the moon bright. In the two corridors he hunted and found no master—only the white horse lying asleep over there, soaked with water from head to hoof, with a blue bruise the size of a plate on one hind leg.
Bajie cried out in dismay: "Double bad luck! The dead creature hasn't even been on the road—how is he sweating, and his leg bruised? Some villains must have robbed Master and beaten the horse."
The white horse knew Bajie, and suddenly human speech came from his mouth: "Brother!" The blockhead fell over in fright, scrambled up, and made for the door—but the horse stretched out his body and caught hold of his black gown in his teeth: "Brother, do not fear me."
Trembling, Bajie said: "Little brother, how comes it you speak today? Whenever you speak, some great misfortune must be at hand."
"Do you know Master is in trouble?"
"I do not."
"No, you do not! You and the Sha Monk showed off your powers before the emperor, thinking to overthrow the demon and win reward and favor—and you never thought the demon's powers were so great and your skills so small that you could not withstand him. One of you might at least have come back with word—but not a whisper has come! The demon changed himself into a handsome scholar, walked into the court, claimed kinship with the emperor, and turned my master into a fierce striped tiger. Now he has been caught by the ministers and locked in an iron cage in the court chamber. When I heard of this torment, my heart was cut as with a knife. You have been gone these two days and did not know—I feared for his very life. I could only take dragon form and go to the rescue; but reaching the court, I could not find my master. When I came outside the Hall of Silver Peace, I met the demon, changed myself into the likeness of a palace beauty, and tried to trick the monster. The demon bade me dance the sword for him, so I watched my chance and slashed at him—but he dodged, and with both hands swung the candelabrum and beat me. I flung my blade at him; he caught it, flung down the candelabrum, and struck my hind leg—so into the imperial water river I dived, and so escaped with my life. The blue mark on my leg is where his candelabrum struck."
Bajie heard him out: "Can such things truly be?"
"Do you think I am fooling you?"
"What's to be done? What's to be done! Can you manage to walk?"
"And if I could walk, what then?"
"If you can walk, then walk yourself down to the sea. Old Pig will shoulder the luggage and go back to Gao Village and return to the furnace—be a son-in-law again!"
At that the little dragon bit fast into his gown and would not let go, the tears dropping from his eyes: "Brother! By all that's holy, do not turn lazy!"
"And if I don't turn lazy, what then? Brother Sha is taken; I cannot beat him. If we don't break up the partnership now, what are we waiting for?"
The little dragon was silent a long while, and then, still weeping: "Brother, speak no more of breaking up. If Master is to be saved, you need only go fetch one person."
"And who would you have me fetch?"
"Mount your cloud this very moment and return to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, and fetch our eldest brother, Pilgrim Sun. He still has the great magic power to subdue demons; he is sure to save Master—and to avenge this defeat for you and me."
"Little brother, fetch someone else, anyone else. That monkey and I are not on good terms. Back on White Tiger Ridge, after he killed that Lady White Bone, he blamed me for egging Master on to recite the Band-Tightening Spell. I only meant it for fun—I never thought the old monk would take it seriously and recite it, and drive him away. Who knows how he hates me for it? He will surely refuse to come. And if a single word goes wrong—that mourning staff of his is heavy. If he loses his temper and lands a few blows, not knowing high from low, how am I to live?"
"He will never strike you. He is a Monkey King of honor and righteousness. When you see him, do not say at once that Master is in trouble—say only that Master is thinking of him. Coax him along, and when he comes here and sees this state of things, his indignation will surely be roused; without fail he will match himself against that demon, and the demon is as good as caught, and Master saved."
"Very well, very well. Since you are so wholehearted, if I did not go, it would look as if I lacked the heart. This time I go: if the Pilgrim will come, I shall come back together with him; if he will not come—then do not look for me either, for I shall not be back."
"Go, go—he is sure to come."
And truly the blockhead gathered up his nail-rake, straightened his tunic, leapt up, trod the cloud, and made straight for the east. This time, too, the Tang monk was fated to live: the blockhead met a fair wind, pricked up his two ears like sails, and soon crossed the Eastern Ocean and pressed down his cloud. Unnoticed, the sun came up; he entered the mountains looking for the way. As he walked, he suddenly heard voices.
Bajie looked carefully: it was the Pilgrim, there in a hollow of the mountain, gathering his host of demons. He sat upon a stone cliff, and before him stood more than twelve hundred monkeys, ranked and ordered by precedence, crying "Ten Thousand Years! Grandpa Great Sage!"
"Well, this is the life! This is the life!" said Bajie. "No wonder he would not stay a monk—nothing would do but coming home! So this is the good of it: an estate as big as this, and all these little monkeys to wait on him! If old Pig had a mountain like this, he'd be no monk either. But now that I'm here, what's to be done? I must see him, that's certain." The blockhead stood somewhat in awe of him and dared not present himself openly; so along the edge of the grassy cliff he sidled, and sidled, and squeezed himself in among the twelve or thirteen hundred monkeys, bowing his head with the rest of them.
But the Great Sage Sun sat high, and his eyes were sharp and quick, and he saw the fellow plain. "That one in the ranks bowing all out of order," he asked, "is a foreigner. Where does he come from? Bring him up!"
Before the words were out, the little monkeys swarmed like bees, pushed Bajie forward, and pinned him to the ground.
"Where do you come from, foreigner?"
Bajie kept his head down: "Your servant is honored by the question. I am no foreigner—an old acquaintance, an old acquaintance."
"All the monkeys of this Great Sage's host are of one likeness," said the Pilgrim. "That face of yours is of another sort altogether, lumpish and uncouth—you must be a demon from elsewhere. Very well: if you come from elsewhere and wish to join my host, first present your registration paper and report your name, that I may keep you here to fill the ranks. If I do not keep you, how dare you come bowing here in disorder!"
The blockhead, head down, snout thrust out: "For shame! Dragging out that face of yours! We were brothers for years, and now you pretend not to know me—calling me a foreigner!"
The Pilgrim laughed: "Raise your head and let me see." The blockhead stuck his snout straight up: "Look at this! Maybe you don't know my face—but surely you know the snout!"
The Pilgrim could not help laughing: "Zhu Bajie!" At the one call the blockhead rolled upright: "That's me! That's me! I'm Zhu Bajie!" And he thought: "If he knows me, we can talk."
"Why are you not following the Tang monk to fetch the scriptures," asked the Pilgrim, "but come here instead? I expect you offended your master, and he banished you back too? Where's your letter of banishment? Hand it here."
"I never offended him, and he wrote no letter, and never banished me."
"No letter, and no banishment? Then what are you doing here?"
"Master thinks of you, and sent me to fetch you."
"He does not want me, and he does not think of me. That day he swore an oath to Heaven and wrote the banishment letter with his own hand—how would he think of me now, or send you all this way to fetch me? Most certainly I shall not go."
Bajie, lying on the spot, blurted: "He truly thinks of you! Truly, truly thinks of you!"
"How does he think of me?"
"Master was riding along, and he called 'Disciples!'—and I did not hear him, and the Sha Monk played deaf. So Master thought of you, and said we were no use, and that you were ever the bright and clever one: call, and you answered; ask one thing, and you answered ten. Thinking of you like this, he sent me expressly to fetch you. I beg you, come with me—first, not to disappoint his longing; second, not to waste my long journey."
At that the Pilgrim leapt down from the cliff, took Bajie by the hand, and said: "Worthy brother, you have come a weary way—come and sport with me a while."
"Brother, this place is far from the road, and I fear Master's longing if we are slow—I'll not play."
"You have come all this way—come, see what my mountain looks like." The blockhead dared not refuse outright, and could only walk along with him.
The two went hand in hand, arm in arm, with all the little demons trailing behind, up to the very summit of the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit. A fine mountain! Since the Great Sage's return, these few days had seen it restored as good as new. Just look:
Green as if carved from kingfisher jade, high as if rubbing the clouds. Round about, tigers crouch and dragons coil; On every side, gibbons cry and cranes call. At dawn, clouds seal the mountain top; At dusk, watch the sun hang in the woods. The flowing stream babbles like jade pendants chiming; The ravine springs drip like some lapis zither played. Before the mountain, sheer cliffs and precipices; Behind the mountain, flowers and trees in riotous bloom. Above, it joins the basin where the Jade Maiden washes her hair; Below, it takes the streams divided from the River of Heaven. Heaven and Earth joined their beauty here to rival Penglai; The pure and the turbid reared between them a true cave-heaven. The painter's wondrous brush could scarce set it down; The immortal's heavenly skill could not limn it true. Delicate strange rocks, and rocks delicately strange; Delicate beyond words, the many-colored peaks upon the crest. The sun's rays set a thousand purple flashes moving; Happy vapors sway ten thousand waves of red cloud. A cave-heaven and blessed land there is upon the earth— New trees and new flowers all over the mountain.
Bajie could not see enough of it, and his heart was full of joy: "Brother, what a place! Truly the first mountain under heaven!"
"Worthy brother," said the Pilgrim, "could a man live here?"
"Listen to you!" Bajie laughed. "A precious mountain, a cave-heaven and blessed land—and you talk of getting by day to day!"
They talked and laughed a good while, then went down the mountain; and there by the roadside they saw several little monkeys bearing purple-clustered grapes, fragrant pears and jujubes, golden loquats, and crimson bayberries, kneeling by the road and calling: "Grandpa Great Sage, pray take your morning meal!"
The Pilgrim laughed: "My brother Zhu has a great belly—fruit will hardly serve him for a meal. Well, well—do not scorn our humble fare; take a few by way of refreshment."
"Great belly or no," said Bajie, "one must do as the countryside does. Hand them round, hand them round—I'll try a few for the novelty."
The two ate their fruit, and the sun climbed. The blockhead, dreading lest he be too late to save the Tang monk, kept pressing: "Brother, Master is yonder longing for you and me. I beg you, come with me soon."
"Worthy brother, let me take you into the Water Curtain Cave for a while."
"A thousand thanks for your kindness, but Master has waited long—let us skip the cave."
"Since you put it so, I dare not keep you. Let us part here."
"Brother—you are not coming?"
"Where would I go? Here neither Heaven claims me nor Earth governs me—free and unfettered. If I will not play, why should I be a monk? I am not going. Go by yourself. But carry this word back to the Tang monk: since he drove me away, let him think of me no more."
The blockhead heard him out and dared not press hard, fearing lest pressing rouse his temper and he fetch him a couple of cudgel-blows; nothing for it but to bow and mutter farewell and find his road away. When the Pilgrim saw him gone, he sent two quick little monkeys to follow Bajie and hear what he said.
And truly, when the blockhead had gone down the mountain not three or four li, he turned, pointed back at the Pilgrim, and cursed: "That monkey—won't be a monk, plays at being a demon instead! That macaque! I came all this way in good faith to fetch him, and he won't come! Well, if you won't come, then don't!"
A few steps, and a few more curses.
The two little monkeys ran swiftly back to report: "Grandpa Great Sage, that Zhu Bajie is not much of an honest fellow—walk a little, curse a little!"
The Great Sage's fury rose: "Bring him back!" And the monkeys flew over the ground, caught up with Bajie, toppled him shoulder over heels, seized his mane and pulled his ears, dragged his tail and plucked his hair, and hauled him back.
How they handled him, and whether he lived or died—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.