Eight hundred virtues must be cultivated, Three thousand works of hidden merit amassed. Only when self and others, kin and foe, are held in even balance Does one fulfill the primal vow of the Western Heaven. Fearless of demons, rhinoceros, and blades of war— Water and fire toiled in vain, yet no offense was done. Lord Lao Zi subdued the beast and turned him back to heaven, Smiling as he led the azure bull away.
The story continues—who was the one calling from the roadside? None other than the mountain god and the local deity of Jindou Mountain, who held up a purple-gold almsbowl and called: "Holy monk! This bowl of rice was begged from a good place by Sun the Great Sage. Because you would not heed good words and fell by mistake into the demon's hands, the Great Sage was put to endless toil, and only today has he delivered you. Come, eat this rice before you take the road—don't fail the Great Sage's wholehearted devotion."
"Disciple," said Sanzang, "we are indebted to you past all telling! Thanks will never be enough! Had I known enough not to step outside the circle you drew, I would never have suffered this danger to my life."
"To tell you no lies, Master," said the Pilgrim, "it was only because you wouldn't trust my circle that you got caught in somebody else's circle. What suffering it caused! Alas, alas!"
"How could there be another circle?" asked Bajie.
"It was all you fouled-mouthed lout, with your wicked tongue, that brought this great ordeal on my master!" said the Pilgrim. "You put old Sun to turning heaven and earth upside down, begging heavenly troops, water and fire, and the Buddha's ancestors' cinnabar sand—and every bit of it snatched away by one white-gleaming ring. Only when the Tathagata hinted to the arhats, and told old Sun the demon's origin, could I beg Lord Lao Zi to come take him in—it was an azure bull making mischief."
Hearing this, Sanzang was grateful beyond measure: "Worthy disciple, now that I have come through this, next time I will surely obey your instructions."
Then the four of them shared the rice, which steamed piping hot.
"This rice was cooked long ago," said the Pilgrim. "How can it still be hot?"
The local deity knelt down and said: "Your little god knew the Great Sage's work was done, and only just now warmed it up for your service."
In a moment the rice was finished. They packed the almsbowl, took leave of the local deity and the mountain god, and only then did the master mount into the saddle and cross the high mountains. Truly: cleansing their thoughts and washing their hearts, they turned to the true Awakening; dining on wind and sleeping by water, they journeyed toward the West.
They had traveled a good while when early spring came upon them. Listen: purple swallows twittering, yellow orioles warbling—purple swallows twittering, their fragrant beaks weary; yellow orioles warbling, their artful notes running on. The fallen red petals lay over the ground like spread brocade; the mountains everywhere put forth green like piled cushions. On the ridges, green plums had set their beads; before the cliffs, ancient cypresses held the clouds. The fields moist, the misty light pale; the sands warm, the sun's color hazy. Here and there the gardens' flowers were bursting into bud; spring returned to the earth, and the willow buds were new.
As they were walking, they suddenly came upon a small river, its clear water still, its cold waves deep. The Tang elder reined in his horse to look, and saw far off across the river green shade of willows, faintly showing the roofs of a few thatched cottages. The Pilgrim pointed from afar: "That household must be ferrymen."
"It looks that way to me too," said Sanzang, "but I see no boat, so I dared not speak."
Bajie set down the luggage and bawled at the top of his voice: "Ferryman! Pole the boat over!" After several calls, from within the willow shade there came the creak and squeak of poles, and a little boat pushed out. Before long it drew near the bank. Master and disciples looked the boat over carefully. Truly:
Short oars parting the waves, light sculls riding the swell. The bow painted and gleaming, the planking smooth and tight. At the prow an iron cable coiled in its nest; At the stern the steering-tower bright. Though but a reed of a vessel for the crossing, It was no worse than a boat on lake or sea. It lacked brocade cables and ivory mast, But had pine stakes and cassia oars indeed. True, it was no ten-thousand-li divine ship, Yet it could ferry across the gap of one river. Its comings and goings kept to the two banks; Its entrances and exits never left the old ford.
The boat touched the bank, and a boat-woman called out: "Crossing! This way!"
Sanzang urged his horse near to look. What was the boat-woman like? On her head a kerchief of brocade pile; on her feet shoes of black silk; on her body a quilted cotton jacket of a hundred patches; round her waist a cloth gown sewn with a thousand stitches. Her wrists were rough-skinned, her sinews hard with strength; her eyes bleary, her brows wrinkled, her face grown old. Her voice was soft and fine as an oriole's song—but seen up close, it was an old dame.
The Pilgrim came near the boat: "Are you the ferry?"
"I am," said the woman.
"Where is the ferryman? Why does a ferry-wife pole the boat?" The woman only smiled and did not answer, dragging up the gangplank with her hands. The Sha Monk carried the luggage aboard; the Pilgrim helped his master up the plank and then led the horse around; Bajie led the white horse aboard, and the gangplank was drawn in. The woman pushed off and plied her oar, and in a moment they had crossed the river.
Setting foot on the western bank, the elder told the Sha Monk to open the pack and fetch a few coppers for her. The woman did not so much as haggle over the amount; she tied the cable to a stake by the water and, smiling all over, went straight into the farmhouse. Sanzang saw how clear the water was, and being thirsty for the moment, he told Bajie: "Fetch the almsbowl and scoop me some water to drink."
"I could do with a bit myself," said the blockhead.
He fetched the almsbowl, scooped a bowlful, and handed it to his master. The master drank a small half of it, leaving the greater part, which the blockhead took and drained in one breath; then he waited on Sanzang into the saddle.
Master and disciples sought out the road and traveled west. Before half a double-hour had passed, the elder was groaning on horseback: "My belly aches!"
"My belly aches some too," said Bajie from behind.
"You must have drunk cold water," said the Sha Monk.
Hardly were the words out when the master cried out: "It hurts terribly!" Bajie too cried: "It hurts terribly!" The two of them, past all bearing with the pain, felt their bellies gradually swelling. When they felt with their hands, there seemed to be lumps of flesh and clots of blood, stirring and wriggling without stop.
The Tang elder was growing restless when suddenly he saw by the roadside a village house, from whose treetops hung two straw bundles.
"Master, good news," said the Pilgrim. "That's a house that sells wine. Let's go beg some hot soup for you, and ask whether there's medicine for sale—get a plaster to cure that bellyache of yours."
Hearing this, Sanzang was very pleased, and he whipped the white horse; in no time they reached the gate of the village house and dismounted. Outside the door they saw an old granny seated on a straw stool, twisting hemp.
The Pilgrim stepped forward, made a bow with clasped hands, and said: "Granny, this poor monk comes from the great Tang of the Eastern Land, and my master is the Tang emperor's sworn brother. Because he drank river water crossing the river, he feels a pain in his belly."
The granny chuckled: "You've been drinking water from that river over there?"
"We drank it from the clear-water river east of here," said the Pilgrim.
The granny laughed heartily: "What fun! What fun! Come inside, all of you, and I'll tell you."
The Pilgrim supported the Tang monk, and the Sha Monk supported Bajie; the two of them moaning and groaning, bellies thrust out, their faces yellow and their brows knotted with pain, they went into the thatched cottage and sat down. The Pilgrim kept saying: "Granny, you must boil some hot soup for my master, and we'll thank you."
But instead of boiling the soup, the old woman ran off chuckling to the rear, calling: "Come and look! Come and look!" From inside came the slap-slap, pitter-patter of slippered feet, and out came two or three more women, neither old nor young, who all stood staring at the Tang monk and giggling. The Pilgrim flared up, gave a shout and gnashed his teeth, and the whole household stumbled and staggered backward in fright.
The Pilgrim stepped forward, seized the old woman, and said: "Boil that soup at once, and I'll spare you!"
Trembling, the woman said: "Merciful lord! Even if I boil the soup it will do no good—it can't cure those two bellyaches. Let go of me and let me explain." The Pilgrim released her, and she said: "This is the Western Land of Women. Our whole kingdom is women only, with never a man—which is why they were so delighted at the sight of you. That water your master drank is bad. That river is called the Mother-and-Son River. Outside our king's city there is also the Welcoming-Yang Hostel Station, and outside the station gate a Child-Revealing Spring. In our country, only when a woman reaches the age of twenty may she dare go drink from that river. After drinking the water, she feels a bellyache and is with child. Three days later, she goes to the Child-Revealing water at the Welcoming-Yang Station to be reflected. If the reflection shows a double image, then a child will be born. Your master drank the water of the Mother-and-Son River and so has conceived—before long he'll give birth. How could hot soup cure that?"
Hearing this, Sanzang turned pale with shock: "Disciple! What are we to do?"
Bajie moaned, twisting his waist and sprawling his hips: "Merciful lord! To give birth—we're men! Where would the birth-gate open? How could it ever come out?"
The Pilgrim laughed: "The ancients said: when the melon is ripe it drops of itself. When the time comes, it will surely split a hole in your side and crawl out."
At this the blockhead, trembling and unable to bear the pain, cried: "It's over, it's over! Dead, dead!"
The Sha Monk laughed: "Second Brother, don't squirm, don't squirm! You may only strain the birth-canal and bring on a pre-natal illness."
The blockhead panicked all the more, tears brimming in his eyes, and clutched at the Pilgrim: "Brother! Ask this granny—see if there's a midwife with a light touch somewhere. Go find a few in advance. Every little while now it heaves and churns—this must be the bearing-pains. Quick! Quick!"
The Sha Monk laughed again: "Second Brother, if you know they're bearing-pains, don't writhe about, or you may burst the water-bubble."
The elder groaned: "Granny, is there a physician here? Let my disciple buy a dose of child-aborting medicine, take it, and bring the birth down."
The woman said: "Even if there were medicine, it would do no good. But on our main south street there is a Jieyang Mountain, and in the mountain a Child-Breaking Cave, and in the cave the Child-Aborting Spring. One must drink a mouthful of water from that well to dissolve the conception. But now the water cannot be gotten. Some years ago a Daoist came, calling himself the True Immortal Ruyi. He changed the Child-Breaking Cave into the Assembled Immortals Nunnery, took the Child-Aborting Spring under his guard, and will not grant the water to anyone for free. Whoever wants water must bring gifts of flowers, red silk, and tokens of respect—sheep, wine, and fruit-trays, offered with utmost sincerity—and even then must bow and beg to obtain a single bowl of it. How could wandering monks like you ever buy such things? All you can do is bear it as fate decrees and wait for the birth to come."
Hearing this, the Pilgrim's heart filled with joy: "Granny, how far is it from here to Jieyang Mountain?"
"Thirty li," said the granny.
"Good! Good! Master, set your mind at ease, and let old Sun fetch you some water to drink." What a Great Sage! He instructed the Sha Monk: "Watch over our master carefully. If this household is discourteous and bullies my master, use your old methods—put on the fierceness of a tiger and frighten them—while I go fetch the water."
The Sha Monk obeyed. Then the granny brought out a great earthenware bowl and handed it to the Pilgrim: "Take this bowl, and be sure to fetch plenty—keep the rest for us against our need." The Pilgrim took the bowl, left the thatched cottage, mounted the clouds, and was gone.
The old woman gazed up into the sky and worshiped: "Merciful lord! This monk can ride the clouds!" Then she went in, called out those womenfolk, and they all knocked their heads and bowed to the Tang monk, styling him arhat and Bodhisattva. Meanwhile they boiled soup and prepared rice, waiting on the Tang monk—of this no more.
Now the Great Sage Sun rose on his somersault cloud, and shortly he saw a mountain peak blocking the edge of his cloud. He checked the cloud-light and opened his eyes to look. What a mountain! See:
Secluded flowers spread their brocade; Wild grasses laid their blue. Ravine waters join and tumble down; Valley clouds equally at ease. Valley upon valley, dense with vines and creepers; Far away, peak upon peak, thick with trees. Birds cry, geese pass; deer drink, apes climb. Kingfisher-green like screens and ramparts; Green cliffs like a woman's coiled tresses. Rolling dust and noise can scarcely reach it; The bubbling springs and rocks never tire the eye. Often immortal boys are seen going out to gather herbs; Frequently woodcutters are met returning with firewood on their backs. Truly no worse than the Tiantai scenery, And finer than the three-peaked Mount Hua of the West!
The Great Sage was still gazing his fill at the mountain when, in the shaded side, he spied a manor, and heard the barking of a dog.
The Great Sage came down the mountain and went straight to the manor. It too was quite a place. Look:
A little bridge spans the living water; A thatched cottage leans against the green mountain. Village dogs bark along the fence; Quiet folk come and go at their own pace.
Presently he came to the gate, where an old Daoist sat cross-legged on the green turf. The Great Sage set down the earthenware bowl, came forward, and made a bow. The Daoist rose slightly to return the salute: "From what quarter do you come? What business brings you to this humble nunnery?"
"This poor monk," said the Pilgrim, "is one sent by imperial commission from the great Tang of the Eastern Land to fetch scriptures from the Western Heaven. Because my master mistakenly drank the water of the Mother-and-Son River, his belly now aches and swells past bearing. When I asked the local folk, they said he has conceived, and there is no remedy. I learned that in the Child-Breaking Cave on Jieyang Mountain there is a Child-Aborting Spring that can dissolve the conception, and so I have come especially to pay my respects to the True Immortal Ruyi and beg some of the spring water to save my master. I must trouble you, old Daoist, to show me the way."
The Daoist laughed: "This is the Child-Breaking Cave—now renamed the Assembled Immortals Nunnery. And I am no one else but the venerable True Immortal Ruyi's eldest disciple. What is your name, that I may announce you?"
"I am the eldest disciple of the Master of the Law Tang Sanzang—my humble name is Sun Wukong."
"Where are your gifts of flowers, wine, and courtesy?" asked the Daoist.
"I'm only a passing wandering monk," said the Pilgrim, "and I brought none."
"You great fool!" the Daoist laughed. "My venerable master guards the mountain spring and never once gave water away for nothing. Go back and prepare your gifts, and then I'll announce you. Otherwise, be off—don't even dream of it!"
"Human kindness is a greater thing than an imperial decree," said the Pilgrim. "Go and speak old Sun's name, and he'll surely do me the kindness—maybe give me the whole well."
At these words the Daoist could only go in and announce him. There he found the True Immortal playing his qin, and waited until the piece was done before saying: "Master, there is a monk outside who calls himself Sun Wukong, eldest disciple of Tang Sanzang, begging for water from the Child-Aborting Spring to save his master."
Had the True Immortal not heard it, well and good; but the moment he heard the name Wukong, fury rose from his heart and malice sprang from his gall. He leapt up at once, left the qin table, doffed his plain robes, put on his Daoist vestments, took up an as-you-will hook, bounded out the nunnery gate, and called: "Where is Sun Wukong?"
The Pilgrim turned his head and saw the True Immortal's getup:
On his head a star-cap, fluttering, bright with color; On his body a vestment of red gold thread. On his feet cloud-shoes heaped with embroidery; Round his waist a jeweled belt wound with cunning work. A pair of padded socks on his wave-treading feet; His skirt half showing, flashing with embroidered down. In his hand the as-you-will golden hook, Its point sharp, its shaft as long as a python-dragon. Phoenix eyes ablaze, brows like seedpods standing up; Steel teeth sharp and pointed, his mouth flashing red. The beard beneath his brow streams like fierce fire; The red hair at his temples short and shaggy. In looks as fierce as Marshal Wen— Only his dress and cap were not the same.
Seeing him, the Pilgrim pressed his palms together and saluted: "This poor monk is Sun Wukong."
The gentleman laughed: "Are you truly Sun Wukong—or someone borrowing the name?"
"Listen to yourself, sir," said the Pilgrim. "As the common saying goes, a gentleman does not change his name walking, nor his surname sitting. I am Wukong indeed—how could there be any borrowing?"
"Do you know me?" asked the gentleman.
"Since I turned to the true gate of Buddha and took up the teaching in sincerity," said the Pilgrim, "I have been climbing mountains and fording streams all this while, and all my friends of the old days have fallen out of touch—I never came to pay my respects, and so I hardly know your honored face. Just now, when I asked the people of the western village by the Mother-and-Son River, they spoke of you as the True Immortal Ruyi—that is how I knew."
"You walk your road," said the gentleman, "and I cultivate my truth. What do you come visiting me for?"
"Because my master mistakenly drank the water of the Mother-and-Son River, conceived, and suffers bellyache," said the Pilgrim, "I have come especially to your immortal abode to bow and beg one bowl of water from the Child-Aborting Spring, to save my master from his ordeal."
The gentleman glared: "Is your master one Tang Sanzang?"
"Indeed he is, indeed he is."
The gentleman ground his teeth in hatred: "Did you ever meet one called the Great King Holy Infant?"
"That was the nickname of the Red Boy demon of Fire-Cloud Cave in Withered Pine Ravine on Mount Hao," said the Pilgrim. "Why does the True Immortal ask?"
"He is my nephew," said the gentleman. "I am the Bull Demon King's brother. Some time ago a letter came from my elder brother's place, saying that Tang Sanzang's eldest disciple Sun Wukong, that lazy rascal, had done him harm. I had nowhere to seek you out for revenge—and here you come seeking me! And you want water on top of it!"
The Pilgrim forced a smile: "You are mistaken, sir. Your esteemed elder brother was once my friend too; in our younger days we even swore seven brothers' fellowship. Only, I did not know where your honored house was, and so failed to pay my respects. And your honored nephew has met with a fine lot: he now follows the Bodhisattva Guanyin and has become the Boy of Goodly Wealth. Even we are not his equals—how can you blame me instead?"
The gentleman shouted: "You brazen macaque! Still working that clever tongue of yours! Was my nephew better off being free and easy as a king, or serving as another's slave? No more of your insolence! Take a stroke of my hook!"
The Great Sage blocked it with his iron cudgel: "Sir, spare us talk of blows—just give me some spring water."
The gentleman cursed: "Brazen macaque! You know not life from death! If you can withstand three rounds against me, I'll give you water. If not, I'll only chop you into meat paste, and that will avenge my nephew."
The Great Sage cursed back: "You senseless fiend, who can't tell up from down! You want a fight—step up and take my cudgel!" The gentleman's as-you-will hook came at him with a parry.
The two of them fought a fine battle at the Assembled Immortals Nunnery:
The holy monk ate by error the conception water; The Pilgrim came seeking the Immortal Ruyi. Who knew the True Immortal was a monster too, Who by force held the Child-Aborting Spring? When they met at last and spoke their grudges, Neither side would yield, and no accord. Word answered word, till wrath was stirred; Evil intent and fierce heart crying for revenge. This one, his master's life at stake, comes seeking water; That one, for a nephew's death, will grant no spring. The as-you-will hook, deadlier than scorpion venom; The gold-banded cudgel, fiercer than a dragon's crest. Thrusts at the chest, wild and mighty; Hooks at the feet, deft and cunning. The underhand cudgel, flung, strikes grievous wounds; The over-shoulder hook rises like a head-whip. One cudgel locks the waist—the hawk seizes the sparrow; Three hooks press the crown—the mantis snatches the cicada. To and fro they strive for victory; Back and forth, and twice they part and close. Hook grappling, cudgel pounding, neither first nor last— No telling on which side the win will fall.
The gentleman fought the Great Sage a dozen-odd rounds and could not hold against him. The Great Sage grew only fiercer; his one cudgel, like a rolling shooting star, rained blows upon his head. The gentleman's strength failed, and trailing his as-you-will hook behind him, he fled up the mountain.
The Great Sage did not chase him, but went into the nunnery to look for the water. But the Daoist had already shut the nunnery gate.
The Great Sage, carrying his earthenware bowl, hurried to the gate, and with all his strength kicked it in, and burst inside. He found the Daoist crouched at the well-curb; at one shout from the Great Sage, raising his cudgel to strike, the Daoist fled to the rear. Then the Pilgrim hunted out the well-bucket and was just drawing water when the gentleman rushed up from the front and caught the Great Sage's foot with his as-you-will hook, sending him sprawling flat on his face.
The Great Sage scrambled up and struck at him with the iron cudgel, but the fellow dodged aside, holding his hook, and said: "Let's see you take my water away!"
The Great Sage cursed: "Come up here! Come up here, you fiend—I'll beat you to death outright!" The gentleman would not come forward to oppose him; he only kept guard, not letting the Great Sage draw water. Seeing him stand off, the Great Sage wielded the iron cudgel in his left hand and the well-bucket in his right, and was just letting the rope run down rattle-rattle when the fellow came again with his hook. Unable to manage with one hand, the Great Sage was hooked by the foot again and took another stagger, tumbling bucket and well-rope and all down into the well.
"What manners!" said the Great Sage. He scrambled out, wheeled his cudgel in both hands, and hammered at him head and face. The gentleman fled once more, not daring to engage.
The Great Sage wanted again to fetch water, but alas, there was no bucket, and he feared another hooking and dragging. He thought to himself: "Let me go fetch a helper!"
What a Great Sage! He wheeled his cloud around, went straight to the gate of the village house, and called: "Sha Monk!" Inside, Sanzang was groaning with pain and Zhu Bajie's moaning never stopped. Hearing the call, the two of them rejoiced: "Sha Monk—Wukong has come!"
The Sha Monk hurried out the door to meet him: "Elder Brother, have you brought the water?"
The Great Sage came in and told the Tang monk the whole story. Sanzang's tears fell: "Disciple, what are we to do?"
"I've come to ask Brother Sha to go with me," said the Great Sage. "When we reach the nunnery, old Sun will fight it out with that fellow, and the Sha Monk will seize his chance to draw the water and save you."
"If you two sound ones both go," said Sanzang, "leaving us two sick ones behind—who will wait on us?"
The old granny at the side said: "Venerable arhat, set your mind at rest. There's no need for your disciple—my household will naturally look after you and wait on you. When you arrived this morning, we truly felt fond of you; but when we saw this worthy Bodhisattva come and go on cloud and mist, we knew you were arhats and Bodhisattvas. My family would never dare harm you again."
The Pilgrim barked: "You womenfolk—whom could you harm?"
The old woman laughed: "Merciful lord, it's your good fortune you came to my house! Had you come to a second household, you'd not have gotten off whole!"
"What do you mean, 'not whole'?" moaned Bajie.
"My family, four or five souls, are all getting on in years, and we've given up the business of love altogether—that's why we wouldn't harm you. But at a second household there'd be a crowd, old and young, and those young ones—would any of them let you pass? They'd want to couple with you. And if you refused, they'd take your lives and slice the flesh off your bodies to make scent-bags of it!"
"If that's how it is, I'm surely safe," said Bajie. "They're all sweet-smelling, fine for scent-bags. I'm a rank pig—even if they sliced my flesh, it would still be rank—so I can't come to harm."
The Pilgrim laughed: "Stop running off at the mouth and save your strength for the birth."
"No need to hesitate," said the granny. "Quick—go beg the water."
"Have you a well-bucket in the house?" said the Pilgrim. "Lend us one to use." The old woman went to the rear at once and brought out a bucket, plus a coiled rope, and handed them to the Sha Monk.
"Take two ropes," said the Sha Monk. "The well may be deep and we may need it."
The Sha Monk took the bucket and rope and followed the Great Sage out of the village house, and together they mounted the clouds and were gone. It took not half a double-hour before they reached the borders of Jieyang Mountain. Bringing down the clouds, they went straight to the nunnery outside.
The Great Sage instructed the Sha Monk: "Take the bucket and rope and hide off to one side. Old Sun will go to the front and give challenge. When the two of us are locked in battle at the hottest, you seize your moment, get in, draw the water, and run."
The Sha Monk obeyed his orders to the letter.
Sun the Great Sage drew his iron cudgel, came near the gate, and called loudly: "Open up! Open up!" The gatekeeper saw him and rushed inside to report: "Master, that Sun Wukong has come again!"
Fury rose in the gentleman's heart: "This brazen monkey—utterly without manners! I'd long heard he had some skill; today I truly know it—that cudgel of his is really hard to withstand."
"Master," said the Daoist, "though his skill is high, you are no less his match—he is just your equal."
"The two rounds before, he won them," said the gentleman.
"Those two wins were only a burst of fierceness," said the Daoist. "But the two later times, when he came to draw water, you hooked him into two falls—doesn't that make you equals? He went away helpless before; now he has come again—surely because Sanzang's fetus has grown and his body is heavy, and he has grumbled so bitterly that there was nothing for it but to come. He's sure to be careless about his master. Rest assured, Master—victory is yours beyond doubt."
At these words the True Immortal's heart filled with springtime joy; smiling all over, with a burst of martial spirit he leveled his as-you-will hook, walked out the gate, and bellowed: "Brazen macaque! What are you here for this time?"
"I've come only for water," said the Great Sage.
"The spring belongs to my family's well," said the True Immortal. "Be he emperor or prime minister, a man must come with gifts of courtesy, sheep, and wine, and beg—only then does he receive a little. And you are my enemy besides—how dare you come to take it empty-handed?"
"Truly you won't give it?" said the Great Sage.
"I won't, I won't!"
"Vile fiend! Since you won't give water—take my cudgel!" He dropped into a stance, charged chest to chest, and without more ado rained blows on his head. The True Immortal swerved aside to dodge and clashed his hook against the cudgel in haste. This battle surpassed the ones before. What a fight:
Gold-banded cudgel, as-you-will hook: The two in fury, each nursing hate. Flying sand and rolling stones darken heaven and earth; Scattered dust and rising soil sadden sun and moon. The Great Sage, to save his master, comes for water; The demon immortal, for his nephew, will let no beggar through. Both sides strain with all their might; One spot decides who stands, who rests. Gritting teeth, they struggle for the win; Clenching jaws, they settle hard from soft. Fresh schemes appear, their vigor rising; They spout clouds and breathe out mist—the gods themselves grieve. Clang and clatter, hook and cudgel ring; Their shouting and roaring shake the hills. Wild wind rolls and rolls, driving the forests; Killing vapor streams on streams past Dipper and Ox. The Great Sage, the more he fights, the more his joy; The True Immortal, the longer the battle, the tighter his play. With heart and mind set upon this war, They'll never stop till death or life is settled.
The two of them crossed hands outside the nunnery gate, leaping and dancing, fighting their way down below the mountainside, locked in bitter struggle—of this no more.
Now the Sha Monk, carrying the well-bucket, burst in through the gate. The Daoist blocked him at the well: "Who are you, daring to come draw water!" The Sha Monk set down the bucket, drew out his demon-quelling precious staff, and without a word brought it down on his head. The Daoist could not dodge in time; his left arm was broken, and he fell to the ground struggling for his life.
"I'd like to beat you to death, you fiend," cursed the Sha Monk, "but you're in human form! I'll have pity on you and spare you—let me draw my water!" Wailing to heaven and earth, the Daoist crawled off to the rear.
Then the Sha Monk drew a brimming bucket of water from the well, walked out the nunnery gate, mounted cloud and mist, and called out to the Pilgrim: "Elder Brother! I've gotten the water! Spare him! Spare him!"
Hearing this, the Great Sage at last propped the hook off with his iron cudgel and said: "Now hear old Sun out. I meant to wipe you out entirely, but first, you have broken no law; second, I hold your elder brother the Bull Demon King's friendship in regard. When I came before, you hooked me twice and I got no water. This time I was playing lure-the-tiger-from-the-mountain—tricking you out here to fight—while my brother drew the water. If old Sun had chosen to use his full powers on you, never mind one True Immortal Ruyi—a whole row of you would be dead and gone. But better to spare a life than take one, so I'll let you off to live a few years yet. If anyone comes for water hereafter, see you never squeeze and extort them."
The demon immortal, fool that he was, made one feint and came to hook his foot. The Great Sage dodged the hook's point, rushed forward, and shouted: "Don't run!" Caught unprepared, the demon immortal went down with a thud and could not struggle up.
The Great Sage wrenched the as-you-will hook from his hand, snapped it in two, then held the pieces together and snapped them again into four, and flung them on the ground: "Vile beast! Dare you be insolent again?"
The demon immortal trembled in every limb and, swallowing the shame, said nothing. The Great Sage, laughing heartily, rose on his clouds. There is a poem in witness:
True lead, if you would refine it, needs true water; True water tempers the true mercury dry. True mercury and true lead, without the mother's breath— Spiritual sand and elixir make the immortal drug. The babe in vain had knotted into fetal form; The mother of earth worked her cure without much toil. Push down the side gates, hold to the true teaching— The heart-lord comes back pleased, with smiling face.
The Great Sage rode his auspicious light, caught up with the Sha Monk, and with the true water won, returned joyful and happy to their place. Bringing down the clouds, they went straight to the village house, where they found Zhu Bajie leaning against the doorpost, belly thrust out, moaning.
The Pilgrim stole quietly up to him: "Blockhead—when is the baby due?"
The blockhead panicked: "Brother, stop teasing! Did you get the water?"
The Pilgrim kept teasing him still, till the Sha Monk arrived right behind, laughing: "The water's here! The water's here!"
Enduring his pain, Sanzang rose slightly: "Disciples, you have wearied yourselves for us!"
The granny too rejoiced, and the whole household came out to bow and say: "Bodhisattva, this is precious indeed! Precious indeed!" Hurriedly she fetched a figured porcelain cup, ladled half a cupful, and handed it to Sanzang: "Venerable master, drink it slowly. Just one mouthful will dissolve the conception."
"I'll skip the cup," said Bajie. "Let me drink straight from the bucket."
"Merciful old lord, you'll be the death of us!" cried the old woman. "If you drank this whole bucketful, I daresay it would melt your guts and belly clean away!" Frightened, the blockhead dared not run wild and drank only half a cup as well.
Before the space of a meal had passed, the two of them felt their bellies griping and cramping, and they heard their guts rumble and roll, five or six rounds of it. After the rumbling, the blockhead could hold out no longer—everything came flooding out together; and the Tang monk too could not help seeking a quiet place to relieve himself.
"Master," said the Pilgrim, "whatever you do, don't go out into the wind. It's frightening—a sudden draft, and you'd come down with a post-natal illness."
The granny brought two chamber pots and had the two of them relieve themselves as convenient. After a little while, each had been through it several times, and only then did the pain stop. Gradually the swelling went down, and the lumps of flesh and clots of blood dissolved away.
The granny's household also boiled some white rice gruel to build up their strength. "Granny," said Bajie, "my body is solid enough—no need to build it up. Just boil some water for a bath, and then I can eat my gruel."
"Elder Brother," said the Sha Monk, "you can't take a bath. Women in childbed who touch water and such come down with illness."
"I never gave birth to anything big," said Bajie. "At most it was a miscarriage—what's there to fear? A wash will make me clean." So the old woman truly boiled water, and the two of them washed their hands and feet. The Tang monk had only two small bowls of gruel; Bajie ate a dozen-odd bowls and still kept asking for more.
The Pilgrim laughed: "Blockhead, eat less! Don't go swelling up a sandbag belly—it looks dreadful."
"Never fear, never fear!" said Bajie. "It's not as if I were a sow—what's there to be afraid of?"
The household truly went off again to cook rice. The old granny said to the Tang monk: "Venerable master, won't you bestow this water on me?"
"Blockhead," said the Pilgrim, "no more drinking?"
"My belly doesn't ache anymore," said Bajie. "The conception must have passed off entirely. I feel fine and free—what would I drink water for?"
"Since the two of them are well," said the Pilgrim, "we'll give the water to your household." The granny thanked the Pilgrim, took the leftover water, put it into an earthen jar, and buried it in the ground behind the house, saying to the old and young of the family: "This jar of water will pay for my coffin!" The whole household, old and young, was delighted. They set out a vegetarian meal, spread the tables and benches, and the Tang monk's party ate their fill.
After resting easily through the night, at daybreak next morning master and disciples thanked the granny's household and left the village house. Tang Sanzang mounted into the saddle; the Sha Monk shouldered the luggage; the Great Sage Sun led the way in front; Zhu Bajie gathered up the reins. And this indeed was:
The mouth's sins washed clean, the body clean; The mortal fetus dissolved, the frame at ease.
But as to what awaited them within the kingdom's borders—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.