A verse to open the chapter:
Form is emptiness, and so it has been from of old; To say that emptiness is form is likewise so. If a man can wake to the very bottom of the Chan of form and emptiness, What need has he of refining cinnabar and sands? Cultivate virtue and conduct to the full, never slackening; Apply your effort through the bitterest boiling and stewing. When your works at last are done, then go to court at Heaven, And keep forever, unchanged, the immortal face.
The story continues: Sai Taishui had barred front and rear gates fast and hunted for the Pilgrim, shouting and rummaging until dusk fell, but found no trace of him. So he sat in the Skinning Pavilion, mustered his host of fiends, and issued his orders: at every gate they were to ring the bells and cry the watch, beat the drums and knock the clappers; every fiend was to have his bow strung and his blade out of its sheath, standing guard and sitting out the night.
Now the Great Sage Sun had turned into a dazed housefly and was stuck beside the gate. Seeing how tight the watch was kept up front, he spread his wings and flew to the gate of the rear palace. Looking in, he saw Lady Golden Sage slumped over the royal desk, silently dripping tears, faintly sobbing.
The Pilgrim flew in through the door and alighted softly on her loosened crow-black chignon, to hear what she wept about. Presently the lady burst out despite herself: "My lord and husband! You and I—
In some life before this one we burned the broken-stick incense, And in this life we met this reckless monster king. Three years the phoenix pair has been sundered—what day shall we meet? Lovebirds parted between two places, and the heart is wrung with sorrow. The Venerable One you sent has only now brought word, And the fair match is startled asunder—one life toward death. Only because the golden bells could not be told apart, Lovesickness now rages worse than it did of old."
Hearing this, the Pilgrim moved to the root of her ear and called softly: "Palace Lady, do not fear. I am still the divine monk Venerable Sun sent from your kingdom—my life is not lost. It was only my own impatience: I stole the golden bells from the dressing table, and while you and the demon king were drinking, I slipped out of the front pavilion; then I could not resist opening them to have a look. I never thought that as I pulled the cotton stuffing from their mouths the bells would ring out once, and smoke, fire, and yellow sand come gushing forth. I lost my composure, flung down the golden bells, showed my true form, and plied my iron cudgel; but I could not fight my way out, and fearing the cruel stroke, I changed into a housefly, stuck myself on the door hinge, and hid until now. The demon king has doubled his watch and will not open the gates. Go to him once more and play the loving wife; coax him in to bed, so that I may slip away and go about my business, and find some other means to save you."
At these words the lady shook and trembled, her hair as if plucked at by spirits, her heart faint and pounding as under a pestle; her eyes brimming, she said: "Are you man or ghost now?"
"I am neither man nor ghost," said the Pilgrim. "I am changed into a housefly, here at this moment. Do not fear—go quickly and invite that demon king." The lady would not believe it; through her tears she whispered: "You are not bewitching me, are you?" The Pilgrim said: "How would I dare bewitch you? If you don't believe me, open your hand, and let me jump down into it so you can see me."
The lady truly spread her left hand open, and the Pilgrim flew gently down and alighted in her jade palm—just like:
A black bean stuck on the stamen of a lotus bud; A roving bee resting on a peony bloom; A grape dropped in the heart of the hydrangea; A deep black dot beside the stem of a lily.
The Lady of the Golden Sage Palace held up her jade palm on high and called out, "Divine monk!" and the Pilgrim answered with a chirr: "It is the divine monk, changed." Only then did the lady believe, and she said softly: "When I go invite that demon king, how will you go about your business?"
The Pilgrim said: "The ancients said, 'It is wine alone that cuts short a man's life.' And they said again, 'Nothing breaks through all affairs like wine.' Wine has many uses, but drinking is the best of them. Call in one of your personal waiting maids and point her out to me; I will change into her likeness and wait upon you at the side—then I can conveniently go to work."
The lady did as he said, calling: "Where is Chunjiao?" From behind the screen came a jade-faced fox, who knelt and said: "What does Madam wish of Chunjiao?" The lady said: "Go call the others to light the gauze lanterns and burn the musk and brain incense, and help me to the front court, to invite the Great King to his rest." Chunjiao went round to the front at once and called seven or eight deer and fox fiends, who took up two pairs of dragon lanterns and a pair of censers, and ranged themselves left and right.
The lady rose and clasped her hands in salute—and the Great Sage had already flown off. What a Pilgrim! Spreading his wings, he flew straight to the jade-faced fox's head, plucked out one hair, blew on it a breath of immortal air, cried "Change!"—and it became a sleep-insect, which he laid gently on her face. Now when a sleep-insect gets onto a person's face, it crawls toward the nostrils, and once it crawls inside, the person sleeps.
Chunjiao indeed grew drowsier and drowsier, swaying on her feet, nodding and dozing; she hurried to her old sleeping place, dropped down headlong, and fell to sleeping with all her heart. The Pilgrim hopped down, shook himself, and changed into the very likeness of Chunjiao; round the screen he went, and stood in line with the rest—but no more of that.
The story continues: as the Lady of the Golden Sage Palace walked forward, little fiends saw her and reported to Sai Taishui: "Great King, the lady is coming."
The demon king hurried out of the Skinning Pavilion to welcome her. The lady said: "Great King, the fire is quenched and the thief has left no trace. In the deep of night I have come especially to invite the Great King to his rest." The demon king, his heart full of joy, said: "Take care of yourself, my lady! That thief just now was Sun Wukong. He defeated my vanguard, killed my underling, changed himself, and came in to cozen us; and though we searched as we did, he has vanished without a trace—that is why my heart is uneasy." The lady said: "The rascal must have slipped away. Set your mind at rest, Great King, and let us go to bed." The demon, seeing the lady standing in attendance and inviting him so, dared not refuse flatly; he could only instruct the host of fiends to watch the lamps and fires closely and guard against thieves, and then went with the lady straight to the rear palace.
The false Chunjiao was led in among the two ranks of waiting maids.
The lady called: "Bring wine, to ease the Great King's weariness."
The demon king laughed: "Just so! Just so! Bring the wine quickly; the lady and I will steady our nerves together." The false Chunjiao and the other fiends laid out fruits and prepared rank meats, setting the tables and chairs. The lady raised her cup, and the demon king offered one up in return; the two of them exchanged cups.
The false Chunjiao, holding the wine ewer at the side, said: "Great King and Madam, tonight you first exchange the nuptial cups—pray drink each to the bottom, and drink a double-happiness cup!" And truly they poured fresh cups again, and drank them dry again.
The false Chunjiao said once more: "This is the happy meeting of Great King and Madam! Let those of the waiting maids who can sing give their songs, and those who can dance rise and dance!"
Before the words were done, a chorus of song rose everywhere, all attuned to one measure: some sang and some danced. The two of them drank a great deal more, and then the lady called a halt to the singing and dancing. The maids divided into ranks and ranged themselves outside the screen; only the false Chunjiao held the ewer, pouring above and below. The lady and the demon king spoke only the talk of husband and wife. See how the lady spread out clouds of tenderness and rains of love, beguiling the demon king till his bones went soft and his sinews numb—only he had not the luck to touch her. Pitiful!
Truly it was a cat biting a pig's bladder—delight for nothing!
They talked a while and laughed a while, and then the lady asked: "Great King, has the treasure come to any harm?" The demon king said: "This treasure was kneaded and cast before Heaven itself—how could it be harmed! Only that thief pulled out the stuffing of the mouths, and the leopard-skin bundle got scorched." The lady said: "And how have you put it in order?" The demon king said: "No need to put it in order; I wear it at my waist."
The false Chunjiao, hearing these words, plucked a whole handful of hairs, chewed them to bits, edged gently up to the demon king, scattered the hairs upon his body, blew three breaths of immortal air, and softly cried "Change!" The hairs became three kinds of loathsome things—lice, fleas, and bedbugs—which invaded the demon king's body, biting at his skin wherever it touched.
The demon king, burning and itching past endurance, thrust a hand into his bosom, rummaging and scratching, and with his fingers pinched out a few lice, which he held near the lamp to look at.
The lady saw them and said with studied care: "Great King, it must be that your underclothes have gone so long without washing that these creatures have bred."
The demon king said in shame: "All my life I have never bred such things—and of all nights, tonight I must cut this figure!" The lady laughed: "What figure has the Great King cut? As the common saying has it, even on the emperor's own body there are three imperial lice. Take off your clothes and let me pick them off for you." And the demon king truly undid his belt and stripped off his clothes. The false Chunjiao, at the side, watched with close attention: in every layer of the demon king's clothing the fleas went leaping, and on every garment great bedbugs stood ranged in rows; mother lice and son lice, dense and thick as ants swarming from their nest. Before he knew it he lifted aside the third layer, to where the flesh showed—and there on the golden bells they clustered and swarmed past all counting.
The false Chunjiao said: "Great King, hand me the bells, and let me pick the lice off them for you too."
The demon king, one part shame and two parts flurry, and quite unable to tell the true from the false, passed the three bells to the false Chunjiao. She took them in hand and made a long show of them; then, seeing the demon king with head bowed, shaking out his clothes, she hid the golden bells away, plucked out one hair, changed it into three bells exactly like the others in every particular, and held them up to the lamp, turning them over and examining them. Then, wriggling and twisting her body, she gave herself one shake, gathered the lice, bedbugs, and fleas back onto her own body, and handed the false golden bells to the monster.
The monster took them in hand, more muddled than ever, with no notion how to tell true from false; holding up the bells in both hands, he passed them to the lady and said: "Now you keep them safe. Be careful, be careful—do not be like the last time."
The lady took them over, gently opened her clothes chest, laid the false bells inside, and locked it with a golden lock; then she drank a few more cups with the demon king, and told the maids: "Sweep clean the ivory bed and spread out the brocade quilt; I shall sleep tonight with the Great King." The demon king answered "No luck! No luck!" again and again: "I dare not presume to attend you—I shall take a palace maid and go sleep in the west palace. Let the lady settle to her rest alone." And so each went to their own lodging—but no more of that.
The story continues: the false Chunjiao, having gotten her prize, tied the treasure at her waist, showed her true form, gave one shake of her body to gather up the sleep-insect, and strode straight for the front. She heard clappers and bells sounding together: they were briskly beating the third watch. What a Pilgrim! Knotting the magic signs and reciting the true words, he worked the spell of invisibility and went straight to the gate.
There he saw bolts and locks thick upon it; so he took out the gold-banded cudgel, pointed it once at the gate, and used the lock-opening spell—and the gate swung gently open. Hastily he slipped his steps through the gate and stood without, then cried at the top of his voice: "Sai Taishui! Give me back my Lady Golden Sage!"
He called two or three times over, rousing the fiends great and small, who hurried to look: the front gate stood open! They lit lamps at once to look for the lock, locked the gate up again, and sent a few running in to report: "Great King! Someone outside the great gate is calling Your Majesty's honored title, demanding Lady Golden Sage!"
The maids within came out of the palace gate and passed the word along softly: "Don't shout so—the Great King has only just fallen asleep."
The Pilgrim called loudly at the gate again, and the little fiends still dared not wake him. So it went, three or four times over, and not one of them dared carry word. The Great Sage bawled and brawled outside till the sky grew light, and then could hold in no longer: swinging his iron cudgel, he went up and battered the gate. The fiends great and small panicked—those bracing the gate braced, and those carrying reports ran.
The demon king, just waking from his sleep, heard the confusion, rose, dressed, came out beyond the gauze curtains and asked: "What is all this clamor?" The maids knelt and said: "Lord, we know not who it is—someone has been cursing and railing outside the cave half the night, and now he is battering the gate." The demon king walked out of the palace gate, and the little fiends who carried the reports kowtowed in a flutter: "Someone outside is calling names, demanding the lady of the Golden Sage Palace! If we answer with half a 'no,' he lets loose such floods of wild talk—most unseemly to the ear. When day broke and the Great King did not come out, he took to battering the gate!" The demon said: "Do not open the gate yet. Go ask him where he comes from and what his name is, and come back quickly to report." The little fiend hurried out and called through the gate: "Who is it battering the gate?" The Pilgrim said: "I am the Grandpa invited with bows from the Kingdom of Zhuzi, come to take the Palace Lady back to her own country!"
[Translator's note: the Pilgrim styles himself waigong, "maternal grandfather." The demon, hunting for the stranger's surname, pounces on the character wai, "outside."]
The little fiend heard, and carried back these words.
The demon then went to the rear palace to look into this pedigree. The lady had just risen, not yet washed and dressed, when maids came in to report: "The lord is here." The lady hurriedly set her garments in order, loosely knotted her black cloud of hair, and came out of the palace to welcome him.
They had scarcely sat down, before there was time to ask nothing, when another little fiend came to report: "That Grandpa who came has smashed the gate to pieces!"
The demon laughed: "Madam, how many generals and commanders are there at your court?" The lady said: "At court there are the horse and foot of the forty-eight guards, a thousand able generals, and on every frontier marshals and chief commanders past all counting." The demon king said: "Is there one of them surnamed Wai?" The lady said: "In the palace I knew only the inner work of assisting the sovereign and instructing the consorts morning and evening; the affairs outside are boundless—how could I remember names!" The demon king said: "This comer calls himself Grandpa. I have thought it over: in the Hundred Family Surnames there is no surname Wai. Your ladyship is gifted with a clever nature and noble birth; dwelling within the royal palace, you must have read many books. In what book do you remember seeing such a surname?" The lady said: "Only in the Thousand Character Classic there is the line 'Without, he receives his tutor's instruction'—that must be it."
The demon king was delighted: "It must be! It must be!" He rose at once, took leave of the lady, went to the Skinning Pavilion, armed and arrayed himself smartly, drew out his demon troops, opened the gate, and marched out. Wielding a great battle-axe, he cried in a stern voice: "Which is the Grandpa from the Kingdom of Zhuzi?" The Pilgrim gripped the gold-banded cudgel in his right hand, pointed at him with his left, and said: "Worthy nephew, what do you want with me?"
The demon king looked at him, and his heart filled with fury: "You wretch—
Your looks are like a monkey's, your mug is like a macaque's; Seven parts a very ghost, yet bold enough to flout men!"
The Pilgrim laughed: "You reckless monster, lying to your betters and cheating your king—so you have no eyes! When old Sun rioted through the Heavens five hundred years ago, the divine generals of the ninefold skies, at the sight of me, dared not so much as add one word of 'old' to my name; and you call me Grandpa—where is the loss to you in that?"
The demon king bawled: "Out with it quick—your name, and what martial arts you have, to dare come rampaging to my gates!"
"If you had not asked my name, well and good," said the Pilgrim. "But if I must tell you my name, I fear you will have no place left to stand! Come up here, stand fast, and listen:
My father and mother that begat this body were Heaven and Earth; The essence of sun and moon knit the holy embryo. In the immortal stone's embrace I knew no count of years; The numinous root conceived me—wondrous it was! In that year I was born, the three yangs stood in their prime; Today, returned to truth, ten thousand meetings are in tune. Once I gathered the host of demons and was hailed their chief; I could subdue the crowd of monsters till they bowed at the cinnabar cliff. The Jade Emperor issued his summons and decree, And Taibai Jinxing bore the edict hither, Inviting me up to Heaven to take an office— Yet the post of Protector of Horses gave me no joy. My first heart rebelled; I schemed within my mountain cave; Boldly I raised my troops and rioted before the royal steps. The Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King, together with the Prince— One bout of arms, and they were all in sorry plight. The Planet Venus memorialized the Dark Vault Emperor again, And once more an edict of amnesty came down: I was invested as the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven— Then at last I counted as timber for the beams. Then, because I wrecked the banquet of the Peaches, And, bold with wine, stole the elixir, I brought down calamity. Lord Lao Zi memorialized the throne in person; The Queen Mother of the Western Pool bowed upon her jade terrace. Knowing well that I had flouted the King's law, They marshaled the heavenly hosts and sent out the fire tallies. A hundred thousand baleful stars and evil luminaries, With shield and sword and halberd ranked in serried rows; Heaven's net and Earth's snare spread over all the mountains, Blades and weapons raised in one great ring of war. A savage battle, fought with neither loss nor win— Till Guanyin recommended Erlang, and he came. The two of us contending, matched for high and low, He had the brothers of Meishan for his fellows. Each played the hero and displayed his transformations, Till at the Gate of Heaven the Three Sages parted the clouds. Lord Lao Zi flung down the Diamond Snare, And the host of gods seized me at the golden stairs. No need to write out any long confession— My crime deserved the death of the sliced and dismembered. Axe-chop and hammer-blow could not injure my life; Saber-swing and sword-cut, how could they wound me! Fire and lightning, thunder and blows—all came to nothing; No means could crush this long-lived embryo. I was haled to the Tushita court of the Great Clarity, And all was made ready to smelt me in the furnace. When the fullness of the date was reached, they opened the cauldron— And out from the very midst of it I leapt! This As-You-Will cudgel borne high in my fist, I turned and fought my way up the Jade Dragon Terrace; Every star and every image skulked into hiding— I rioted through the Heavenly Palace, aslant and asquare. The Patrolling Officer hurried to summon the Buddha, And Sakyamuni matched his genius against mine. Within the palm of his hand I turned my somersaults, Roamed the whole round of Heaven, went and came again. The Buddha used a craft I never foresaw, And pinned me fast beneath the cliff of sky. Five hundred years and more have passed since then; Freed of that humble body, I play my tricks anew. Now I escort the Tang monk to the western regions— Wukong the Pilgrim, clear in every way! Along the western road I subdue the monsters— What demon or what evil sprite does not fear me!"
Hearing him say "Wukong the Pilgrim," the demon king said: "So you are that rascal who rioted through the Heavenly Palace! Since you escaped with your life to escort the Tang monk west, why not walk your own road and have done? What business of yours is this meddling? To make yourself a lackey for the Kingdom of Zhuzi, and come here looking for your death!"
The Pilgrim bawled: "Thieving, reckless monster! What ignorance you talk! I have received the courtesies of invitation from the Kingdom of Zhuzi, and their kindness of entertainment and address besides. Old Sun stands a thousand times higher than any royal seat: they honor me as father and mother, they serve me as a god and a bright spirit—how dare you let the word 'lackey' out of your mouth! You monster who cheats your betters and imposes upon kings—don't you run! Take a cudgel from your Grandpa!"
The demon panicked; he dodged aside, and swung his battle-axe to meet the cudgel face to face. What a battle this was!
Look: the gold-banded As-You-Will cudgel; the wind-edged battle-axe. One gnashes his teeth and pours out his ferocity; the other grinds his teeth and displays his might. This one is the Great Sage Equal to Heaven descended among mortals; that one is the demon king, making his mischief, come down upon the earth. The two of them spew clouds and breathe mist that light up the heavenly palace; truly they kick up stones and cast sand that veils the Dipper's mansion. To and again, their strokes past counting; over and over, golden light comes flashing out. Both display their arts; each wagers his magic power. This one would fetch the lady back to the royal capital; that one rejoices to keep his queen in the mountain hollow. This fight, in truth, had no rhyme or reason: risking death, forgetting life, all for the sake of a sovereign.
The two of them fought through fifty rounds, and neither prevailed.
The demon king, seeing how high the Pilgrim's skill, judged that he could not win; he caught the cudgel on his axe and said: "Pilgrim Sun, hold a while! I have not yet broken my fast this morning. Let me eat, and then come back to settle which of us is cock and which is hen."
The Pilgrim knew full well he meant to fetch the bells. He drew back his iron cudgel and said: "A stout fellow doesn't chase a worn-out rabbit—go along, go along! Eat your fill, and come back the better to take your death!"
The demon hurriedly turned and rushed inside, saying to the lady: "Quick—bring the treasure!" The lady said: "What do you want the treasure for?" The demon king said: "The one who called us out to battle this morning is a disciple of the scripture-seeking monk—called Sun Wukong the Pilgrim—styling himself Grandpa. I fought him to this hour, and neither of us has won. Wait till I take the treasure out, loose a little smoke and fire, and roast that monkey's head!"
Hearing this, the lady's heart thumped with dread: if she did not bring out the bells, she feared he would grow suspicious; and if she did bring them out, she feared for the Pilgrim's life. While she hesitated, unable to decide, the demon king pressed again: "Bring them out, quick!" There was nothing for it: the lady unlocked the chest and passed the three bells to the demon king. He took them and went out of the cave. The lady sat in her palace, her tears falling like rain, wondering whether the Pilgrim could ever escape with his life. And neither of the two knew the bells were false.
The demon went out the gate, took the wind's advantage, and called: "Pilgrim Sun, don't run! Watch me shake my bells!"
The Pilgrim laughed: "You have bells—have I none? You can shake yours; can't I shake mine?" The demon king said: "What bells have you? Bring them out and let me see!" The Pilgrim squeezed the iron cudgel down into an embroidery needle, hid it away in his ear, untied from his waist the three true treasures, and said to the demon king: "Are these not my purple-gold bells?"
The demon king saw them, and his heart lurched: "Strange! Strange! How can his bells be exactly like mine! Even if they were cast in the one mold, you would think the polishing would fall short somewhere—one blemish more, one knob less—yet how can they be alike to the very hair?" He asked again: "Where did your bells come from?" The Pilgrim said: "Worthy nephew, where did yours come from?" The demon king, honest soul, told him then and there: "My bells came thus:
The immortal lord of the Great Clarity—deep is the source of his Way; Long was the gold a-smelting in the Eight-Trigram furnace. Knit into bells, they are honored as a supreme treasure; Lord Lao Zi left them behind, and they have lasted till today."
The Pilgrim laughed: "Old Sun's bells came from that very time." The demon king said: "What was their provenance?" The Pilgrim said: "My bells came thus:
The Patriarch of the Way burned elixir in the Tushita palace; The golden bells were kneaded and smelted within the furnace. Two threes make six—the treasure of the cycling wheel: Mine are the female, and yours are the male."
The demon king said: "The bells are a treasure of the golden elixir, not bird or beast—how do you tell the female from the male? Whoever shakes the treasure out, his is the better!" The Pilgrim said: "Talk is no proof; do the deed, and it will show. You shake first."
The demon king truly waved the first bell three times—and no fire came out; the second three times—and no smoke came out; the third three times—and not a grain of sand came out.
The demon king lost his footing in consternation: "Strange! Strange! The ways of the world must have changed! These bells of mine must be henpecked: the male has clapped eyes on the female, and so he will not come out!"
The Pilgrim said: "Worthy nephew, stay your hand, and let me shake mine for you to see." What a monkey! He seized all three bells in one grip and shook them together. Watch: red fire, blue smoke, and yellow sand all rolled out at once, gushing and roaring, setting the trees ablaze and burning the mountain! The Great Sage recited another spell in his mouth, faced the quarter of the wind, and called: "Wind, come!" And truly the wind drove the fire onward, the fire rode upon the wind's might: red flames and black murk, smoke and fire filling the whole sky, yellow sand covering the whole earth!
Sai Taishui was scared out of his wits and his soul flew scattering—no road left him to flee. In the very midst of that fire, how was he to save his life?
Just then a loud voice came ringing from midair: "Sun Wukong! I am come!"
The Pilgrim turned quickly and looked up: it was the Bodhisattva Guanyin, the pure vase cradled in her left hand, the willow sprig in her right, sprinkling sweet dew to quench the fire. In a flurry the Pilgrim hid the bells at his waist, pressed his palms together, and cast himself down in worship. The Bodhisattva flicked her willow branch and sprinkled several drops of sweet dew; in an instant smoke and fire were wholly gone, and the yellow sand left not a trace.
The Pilgrim knocked his head and said: "I knew not that your great compassion would descend among men; forgive me for failing to withdraw from your path. May I be bold to ask—where is the Bodhisattva bound?"
"I have come on purpose," said the Bodhisattva, "to take up this monster."
"What is this monster's origin," said the Pilgrim, "that it is worth the descent of your golden person to take him in?"
"He is the golden-haired hou I ride," said the Bodhisattva. "His herd-boy dozed and failed in his watch, and that wicked beast bit through his iron chain and ran away. He has come to work off calamity for the king of Zhuzi."
Hearing this, the Pilgrim rose hastily on one knee: "Bodhisattva, you have it backwards! Here he has cheated the king and deceived the queen, corrupted custom and wounded decency, and bred disaster for that king—and you call it working off calamity. How is that?"
"You do not know the rights of it," said the Bodhisattva. "When the former king of Zhuzi was on the throne, this present king was still crown prince in the Eastern Palace, not yet crowned. In his boyhood he was wild for hunting. Once he led out his riders with hawks loosed and hounds running before them, and came to the slope of the Fallen Phoenix. There the two children of the Buddha Mother, the Peacock Bodhisattva of Great Radiance—a male peacock chick and a female—had folded their wings at the foot of the slope. This king drew his bow, and shot the male peacock; and the female too took an arrow and returned to the West. The Buddha Mother repented thereafter, and ordained that the prince should have the phoenix sundered for three years and suffer a sickness of mourning. At that time I was riding this hou, and we heard those words together—and that wicked beast, all unawares, took them to heart. Hence he came and beguiled the queen away, to work the king's calamity off for him. Now the three years are past and the debt of guilt is paid in full; happily you have come to cure the king's affliction, and I have come on purpose to take this fiend away."
"Bodhisattva," said the Pilgrim, "granting the story is so—yet he has defiled the queen, corrupted custom and decency, subverted the bonds and broken the law. His is the death penalty. Now that your Bodhisattva has come in person, the death penalty may be spared him—but not the penalty of the beating. Let me give him twenty strokes of the cudgel, and you may take him away with you."
"Wukong," said the Bodhisattva, "since you know I have descended to the world, then for my sake pardon him all of it—count it, too, as one feat in your demon-subduing. If the cudgel so much as touches him, that beast is dead."
The Pilgrim dared not go against her word; he could only bow and say: "Since the Bodhisattva takes him back to the sea, let him never again be allowed to slip down among men—the harm would be past all sounding!"
Then the Bodhisattva gave one shout: "Wicked beast! If not now, when will you return to your true form!" At that the monster rolled over, showed forth his original body, and gave his fur a shake, and the Bodhisattva mounted him. She glanced once at his neck: the three golden bells were nowhere to be seen.
The Bodhisattva said: "Wukong, give me back my bells."
"Old Sun knows nothing of them," said the Pilgrim. The Bodhisattva bawled: "You thieving monkey! If you had not stolen those bells, never mind one Wukong—ten Wukongs would not have dared come near him! Bring them out, quick!" The Pilgrim laughed: "Truly I never saw them." The Bodhisattva said: "If you never saw them, then let me recite the Band-Tightening Spell." The Pilgrim panicked, crying: "Don't recite it! Don't recite it! The bells are here!"
And this was truly:
The golden bells upon the hou's neck—who is there can loose them? To loose the bell, one must still ask the one who tied it on.
The Bodhisattva slipped the bells around the hou's neck, rose high into the air, and sat her seat. Watch her: lotus blossoms flaming from his four hooves, golden filaments gleaming from all his body—and thus the Great Compassionate One returned to the Southern Sea—but of that no more.
The story continues: the Great Sage Sun straightened his skirt and his sash, swung his iron cudgel, and fought his way into the Xiezhi Cave. The fiends and monsters he killed utterly, every one, sweeping them out clean. Then he went straight to the palace and invited the Palace Lady to return to her kingdom; the lady bowed in worship that knew no end.
The Pilgrim told her the whole of it—how the Bodhisattva had subdued the demon, and the original cause of the sundered phoenix; then he gathered some soft grass and twisted a straw dragon, saying: "Madam, mount here, shut your eyes, and fear nothing. I will carry you back to court to see your lord."
The lady obeyed his instructions to the letter. The Pilgrim worked his divine powers, and she heard only the wind whistling in her ears. In half a double-hour he brought her within the city, brought down his cloud, and called: "Madam, open your eyes!" The queen opened her eyes and looked: she knew the phoenix towers and the dragon halls, and her heart filled with joy. She cast the straw dragon aside and climbed the treasure hall with the Pilgrim.
The king, seeing her, hurried down from the dragon couch to catch his lady's jade hand and pour out the sorrows of their parting—when suddenly he toppled over on the floor, crying: "My hand! My hand!" Bajie burst out laughing: "What a sight! No luck to enjoy her—one clasp of the hand, and it's death!"
"Fool," said the Pilgrim, "would you dare take her hand?" "And suppose I did take her hand—what then?" said Bajie. The Pilgrim said: "The lady's body has bred poisoned spines; in her hands there is a venom that stings like fire. Ever since she came to the Unicorn Mountain and passed three years with that Sai Taishui, the demon never once touched her body: touch her body, and the body is racked with pain; touch her hand, and the hand is racked with pain."
The officials heard and said: "If it is so, what can be done?" Now without, the officials were sunk in doubt and dread; within, the consorts shivered in fear; and at the side the two palace ladies, the Jade Sage and the Silver Sage, raised the king up.
In the very midst of this confusion, they suddenly heard someone call from midair: "Great Sage, I am come." The Pilgrim lifted his head to look, and this was the one:
A solemn crane-cry pierces the heavens; drifting, he comes straight to the court. Winding auspicious light, streak upon streak; swirling propitious vapors, fluttering. A palm-fiber robe on his body breathes forth cloud and mist; On his feet, straw sandals—a sight seldom seen. In his hand, a dragon-whisker fly-whisk; A silken sash wound about his waist. Everywhere through the universe he has knotted his ties with men; Over the whole great earth he has wandered free. This is the Purple Cloud Immortal of the Heaven of the Great Canopy, Come down to the world today to undo the spell.
The Pilgrim stepped forward to meet him: "Whither bound, Zhang Ziyang?" The True Man came straight up before the hall and bowed with clasped hands: "Great Sage, your humble immortal Zhang Boduan salutes you." The Pilgrim returned the courtesy: "From where do you come?" The True Man said: "Three years ago your humble immortal was on his way to a Buddhist assembly, and as I passed through this place I saw that the king of Zhuzi bore the sorrow of the sundered phoenix. I feared the demon would defile the queen and wreck the bonds of humanity, making it hard for her ever to be rejoined to the king. So I changed an old palm-fiber coat into a new rainbow raiment, glowing with five colors, and presented it to the demon king, to be the queen's bridal dress. The moment that queen put it on, her whole body broke out in poisoned spines—and those poisoned spines were the palm fibers. Now, knowing the Great Sage has brought the matter to its end, I have come especially to undo the spell."
The Pilgrim said: "Since it is so, I am sorry to have troubled you to come so far—undo it quickly." The True Man stepped forward, pointed once at the lady with his hand, and the palm-fiber coat slipped off her that instant; the lady's whole body was as it had been before.
The True Man shook out the coat, cast it over his own shoulders, and said to the Pilgrim: "Great Sage, do not take it amiss; your humble immortal takes his leave." "Stay a moment," said the Pilgrim, "and let the king give you his thanks." The True Man laughed: "No need, no need." With one long bow he rose into the empty sky and was gone—and the emperor, the queen, and all the ministers great and small, in a flurry, bowed in worship toward the heavens.
When the worship was done, the king commanded the eastern pavilion thrown wide open, to feast and thank the four monks. The sovereign led his court in kneeling bows; husband and wife were at last reunited in harmony. In the very midst of the merry feast, the Pilgrim called: "Master, bring out that letter of challenge." The elder took it from his sleeve and handed it to the Pilgrim, and the Pilgrim passed it to the king, saying: "This letter was sent by that monster's underling. The underling I had already killed and brought back to claim the first credit. Later I went again into the mountains, changed myself into the underling, and entered the cave to make my report; thus I came to see the lady, and stole out the golden bells, all but being caught. Then by further transformations I stole them out again and fought him to a standstill—until, by good fortune, the Bodhisattva Guanyin came and took him away, and told me the cause of the sundered phoenix." From first to last he told it all in detail; and in that whole kingdom, within the court and without, there was not one who did not give thanks and sound his praises.
Tang Sanzang said: "First, it was the fortune of a worthy king; and second, the merit of my humble disciple. Now that we have been honored with this great feast, it is enough—enough! Let us here take our leave, and do not delay this poor monk upon his road to the west."
The king could not prevail upon them to stay. He had the travel rescripts exchanged, ordered out the grand royal equipage, and begged the Tang monk to sit firm in the dragon chariot; and king, queen, and consorts together held the hub and pushed the wheels, escorting them on their way as they parted. Truly:
By destiny the sickness of sorrow and doubt is washed clean away; Cut off from craving, free of thought, the heart is at peace of itself.
But what things of good or ill might yet await them farther on the road—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.