We tell now of the great city of Chang'an in Shaanxi, a place where emperors of successive dynasties established their capitals. From the Zhou, Qin, and Han onward, its three prefectures flowered like brocade and eight rivers flowed circling round the city—truly a land of famed scenery. It was then the reign of Emperor Taizong of the Great Tang, who had changed the era name to Zhenguan and had sat upon the throne thirteen years, the year being jisi. All under heaven was at peace: the eight quarters sent tribute, and the four seas proclaimed vassalage.
One day Taizong held court, gathering his civil and military officials. When the courtly homage was done, the Prime Minister Wei Zheng stepped forward from the ranks and memorialized: "Now that the world is at peace and the eight quarters are tranquil, Your Majesty should follow the ancient practice and open the examination grounds, recruiting worthy scholars and promoting men of talent, to aid in the work of transformation and governance."
"Your memorial is just, worthy minister," said Taizong, and he issued the proclamation of recruitment throughout the realm: in every prefecture, department, and county, whoever they might be, soldier or commoner—if they were scholars versed in letters, clear in principle, and masters of the three examinations, let them come to Chang'an to sit for the test.
This proclamation reached the district of Haizhou, where there lived a man named Chen E, whose courtesy name was Guangrui. When he saw the proclamation, he went home at once and said to his mother, née Zhang: "The court has issued the yellow proclamation [Translator's note: an imperial announcement, so called for being written on yellow paper], decreeing the opening of the southern examination halls to recruit worthy talent. Your child wishes to go sit for the examination. If I should win even a small official post, bringing honor to my parents, fame to my name, rank to my wife and shelter to my sons, and glory to our family gate—that is my ambition. I make so bold as to inform my mother that I am going."
"My son the scholar," said Zhang, "'learn in youth, act in manhood'—just so it should be. But going up for the examination, be careful on the road; and once you have gained office, come back quickly."
Guangrui ordered the household servant to pack the luggage, bade farewell to his mother, and pressed swiftly onward. Arriving at Chang'an just as the examination grounds were flung open, Guangrui entered and sat the test. When it was done, he was among those selected. At the palace examination on the three policies, the Tang sovereign's own brush named him Zhuangyuan—first among graduates—and he rode horseback through the streets for three days in triumph.
It chanced that his ride brought him before the gate of Prime Minister Yin Kaishan, whose daughter, named Wenjiao and also called Mantangjiao, was still unwed. She was just then high in an adorned colored tower, throwing an embroidered ball to divine her husband. As it happened, Chen Guangrui passed beneath the tower; the young lady saw at a glance that his talents were outstanding and knew he was the new Zhuangyuan, and her heart was filled with delight. She flung the embroidered ball down, and it struck Guangrui square upon his black gauze cap.
Suddenly there arose a strain of pipes and flutes and soft music, and a dozen maids and concubines came down from the tower, took the head of Guangrui's horse in hand, and welcomed the Zhuangyuan into the minister's residence to be married. The Prime Minister and his lady came straight out to the hall, called in the master of ceremonies to chant the rites, and gave the young lady to Guangrui in marriage. They bowed to Heaven and Earth; husband and wife bowed to one another, and then made obeisance to father-in-law and mother-in-law. The Prime Minister ordered a banquet laid, and they drank joyously through the night.
The two of them, hand joined in hand so fair, entered together the orchid chamber.
The next day at the third point of the fifth watch, Taizong sat in state in the Hall of Golden Bells, and the civil and military ministers hurried to court.
"What office should be conferred on Chen Guangrui, the new Zhuangyuan?" asked Taizong.
Prime Minister Wei Zheng memorialized: "Your servant has examined the prefectures and commanderies under your sway, and finds the post of Jiangzhou vacant. I beg Your Majesty to confer it upon him."
Taizong appointed him Governor of Jiangzhou and ordered him to prepare for departure at once, that he not miss the appointed time. Guangrui gave thanks, left the court, returned to the minister's residence, took counsel with his wife, bade farewell to his father-in-law and mother-in-law, and set out with his wife for his post in Jiangzhou.
They left Chang'an and took the road in the season of late spring: the mild wind blowing the willows green, the fine rain dotting the flowers red. Guangrui first detoured home, where he and his wife bowed to his mother, née Zhang.
"Congratulations, my son," said Zhang, "who returns with a wife besides."
"Your child owes it to your blessing, Mother," said Guangrui, "and has unworthily been named Zhuangyuan, graced with the imperial ride through the streets. Passing the gate of Prime Minister Yin's mansion, the embroidered ball thrown for divining a husband chanced to strike me, and the Prime Minister straightway took me as his son-in-law, giving me the young lady in marriage. The court has appointed your child Governor of Jiangzhou, and I have come now to take you, Mother, to go with us to my post."
Zhang was overjoyed and packed for the journey.
After some days on the road, they came to the Ten Thousand Flowers Inn of Liu Xiao'er and lodged there. Suddenly Zhang fell ill. "I am not well," she said to Guangrui. "Let us rest here at the inn a couple of days and nurse me before we go on."
Guangrui obeyed.
The next morning, he saw a man before the inn gate carrying a golden carp and crying it for sale. Guangrui bought it with a string of cash, intending to have it cooked for his mother; but the carp flicked its eyes at him [Translator's note: the rare verb zha describes the fish blinking its eyes], and Guangrui marveled: "I have heard it said that when fish or snakes blink their eyes, they are surely no common creatures!"
He asked the fisherman: "Where did you catch this fish?"
"In the Flood River, fifteen li from the prefecture," said the fisherman. Guangrui then carried the fish to the Flood River and released it to life.
He returned to the inn and told his mother of this. Zhang said: "To release a living creature is a good deed; my heart is well pleased."
"We have now stayed three days at this inn," said Guangrui. "The imperial deadline presses. Your child wishes to set out tomorrow—I know not whether Mother's health permits?"
"My body is unwell," said Zhang, "and the road is hot this season; I fear it would add to my sickness. You may hire a room here for me to lodge in a while. Leave me some travel money; you two go on ahead to your post, and when autumn brings coolness, come fetch me." Guangrui took counsel with his wife, rented a house, left travel money with his mother, and with his wife bade her farewell and went on.
The road was hard: traveling at dawn, lodging at nightfall, until unknowingly they reached the Flood River ferry. There the boatmen Liu Hong and Li Biao poled their boat to the bank to receive them. And it was, by destiny of a former life, Guangrui's lot to meet this calamity—he had run straight into his nemesis.
Guangrui had the servant carry the luggage aboard, and husband and wife were just stepping onto the boat when Liu Hong opened his eyes and beheld the young lady Yin: face like the full moon, eyes like autumn waves, a little cherry mouth, a slender waist like the green willow—truly with a beauty that would drown the fish and drop the geese from the sky, outshine the moon and shame the flowers. A wolf's heart rose in him at once. He plotted with Li Biao: they poled the boat to a place uninhabited by man, waited till the still night of the third watch, first killed the household servant, then beat Guangrui to death, and flung both bodies into the water.
When the young lady saw her husband beaten to death, she threw herself toward the water, but Liu Hong seized her in his arms. "If you comply with me, all may yet be well!" he said. "If not—一刀 two halves!" [Translator's note: an idiom meaning to cut all ties, here with a murderous edge.]
The young lady could devise no plan; she could only feign assent for the moment and submit to Liu Hong. The villain poled the boat across to the south bank, left it with Li Biao to manage, then put on Guangrui's clothes and cap, took the certificate of office, and went with the young lady to take up the post in Jiangzhou.
Now of the servant's body that Liu Hong had killed, it floated away downstream; but the body of Chen Guangrui sank to the riverbed and did not stir.
The night-patrolling yaksa at the mouth of the Flood River saw it and flew like a star to report to the Dragon Palace, just as the Dragon King ascended his hall. The yaksa reported: "Today at the mouth of the Flood River, someone unknown has beaten a scholar to death and cast his body into the deep."
The Dragon King bade them carry the body in and set it before him, looked at it closely, and said: "This man is my very benefactor who saved me. How has he been murdered? As the proverb says, 'Answer kindness with kindness.' Today I must surely save his life, to repay the kindness of that former day." He wrote out an official writ and dispatched the yaksa straight to the City God and the local earth-god of Hongzhou, to summon the scholar's soul, that he might save his life.
The City God and the earth-god then bade their underlings deliver the soul of Chen Guangrui to the yaksa, who carried it to the crystal palace and presented it before the Dragon King. The Dragon King asked: "What is your name, scholar? From what place? Why have you come here, to be beaten to death?"
Guangrui bowed and said: "Your humble student is Chen E, courtesy name Guangrui, of Hongnong county in Haizhou. Unworthily I won the new Zhuangyuan and was appointed Governor of Jiangzhou. Traveling with my wife to my post, we boarded a boat at the river's edge—and the boatman Liu Hong, coveting my wife, beat me to death and flung away my body. I beg the Great King to save me!"
Hearing this, the Dragon King said: "So it is. Sir, the golden carp you released the other day was none other than I. You are my benefactor who saved me. Now that you are in peril, how could I not save you?" He had Guangrui's body laid to one side and set a "countenance-preserving pearl" in its mouth, that it suffer no decay, so he might return to his soul in days to come and take his revenge. "For now," he added, "let your true soul serve as a captain in my water palace."
Guangrui kowtowed his thanks, and the Dragon King held a feast to entertain him—but of that we say no more.
We tell instead of the young lady Yin, who hated the villain Liu with a hate that could have eaten his flesh and slept on his hide. But she carried a child within her, and knew not whether boy or girl; there was nothing for it but to bear with him, feigning compliance. In the turning of an eye, they arrived at Jiangzhou.
The clerks, ushers, and runners all came out to greet them, and the subordinate officials held a banquet in the public hall to welcome him. Liu Hong said: "This student's arrival here depends wholly on the mighty support of you gentlemen."
"Your Honor, a Zhuangyuan of towering talent," the officials replied, "will naturally regard the people as his children; lawsuits will be few and punishments light. We all stand in your shadow—why so modest?" When the public banquet ended, the company dispersed.
Time flew swiftly. One day, when Liu Hong had gone far away on public business, the young lady, in her chambers, thought of her mother-in-law and her husband, and sighed upon the flower terrace. Suddenly her body grew weary, her belly throbbed with pain, and she fainted to the ground—and unknowingly gave birth to a son.
Beside her ear a voice instructed her: "Mantangjiao, hear my charge. I am the Star Lord of the South Pole, bearing the Dharma decree of the Bodhisattva Guanyin, and I deliver this son to you. In days to come his fame shall be great beyond the common run. If the villain Liu returns, he will surely harm this child; guard him with care. Your husband has been saved by the Dragon King; in time husband and wife shall meet again, mother and son be reunited, and the day will come for redressing the wrong and taking vengeance. Remember my words well—wake quickly, wake quickly!"
Having spoken, the voice departed. The young lady awoke, remembering every word, and clasped her child close, but could devise no plan.
Suddenly Liu Hong returned. The moment he saw the child, he wanted to drown it. "The hour is late today," said the young lady. "Wait till tomorrow, and then throw him into the river."
Fortunately, early the next morning Liu Hong was called away on urgent public business. The young lady thought to herself: "If this child waits till the villain returns, his life is finished! Better to cast him into the river at once and let him live or die. If perchance High Heaven takes pity and someone saves him and raises him, we may yet meet again in after years." But fearing he would be hard to recognize, she bit her finger open and wrote a letter in blood, setting down in full her own and the father's names and the whole story of his origins. She then bit off the little toe from the child's left foot, as a mark of proof. Taking an undershirt from next to her skin, she wrapped the child in it, and, seizing a moment, carried him out of the yamen. Happily the government offices stood not far from the river. When the young lady reached the bank, she wept a long while. Just as she was about to abandon him, a plank of wood floated up beside the bank. The young lady prayed toward heaven, set the child upon the plank, bound him fast with her sash, tied the blood letter upon his breast, pushed it out into the river, and let it go where it would.
The young lady returned to the yamen with tears—but of that we say no more.
We tell instead of the child upon the plank, drifting with the current, which carried him straight along until he came to rest at the foot of Gold Mountain Temple. The elder of Gold Mountain Temple was the monk Faming, who cultivated truth and awakened to the Way, having gained the wondrous secret of the Unborn. Just as he sat in meditation, he suddenly heard the sound of an infant crying. His heart stirred, and he hastened to the riverbank to look. There, on a plank by the shore, lay a sleeping baby. The elder hurriedly rescued him.
Seeing the blood letter in the swaddling clothes, he learned the whole story. He gave him a childhood name—Jiangliu, "River-Float"—and entrusted him to someone to raise, keeping the blood letter hidden away. Time flew like an arrow, the days and months like a shuttle, and unawares River-Float grew to eighteen years. The elder then had him tonsured for the religious life, bestowed on him the religious name Xuanzang, laid his hand upon his head to confer the precepts, and he set his heart firmly upon the Way.
One day, in late spring weather, the company was gathered beneath the pines' shade discoursing on the sutras and meditating on Chan, speaking of the mysteries, when a wine-and-meat monk was thoroughly stumped by Xuanzang's arguments.
The monk flew into a rage and cursed: "You beast of karma! You know not your own name, you know not your own father and mother—and still you stand here playing your tricks!"
Cursed out with such words, Xuanzang went into the temple, knelt before his master, and with tears streaming down said: "A person born between heaven and earth receives yin and yang and is endowed with the five elements—all come of father begetting and mother bearing. How can there be a person in this world without father or mother?" Again and again he begged to know his parents' names.
"If you truly wish to seek your parents," said the elder, "come with me to the abbot's quarters."
Xuanzang followed him in. The elder reached up above the beams, took down a little casket, opened it, brought out a blood letter and an undershirt, and gave them to Xuanzang. Xuanzang unrolled the blood letter and read it, and only then learned in full his parents' names and the whole story of the wrong done them.
When he had finished reading, he fell weeping to the ground: "How can I be a man who cannot avenge his parents' wrong? For eighteen years I knew not the parents who bore me—only today have I learned I have a mother. Had not my master rescued and raised me, how should I have lived to this day? Permit your disciple to go seek out my mother; then, with incense basin borne upon my head, I will rebuild your halls to repay my master's deep kindness!"
"If you would go seek your mother," said the master, "take this blood letter and this undershirt with you. Go only as an alms-begging monk, straight to the private residence at Jiangzhou—only so will you obtain a meeting with your mother."
Xuanzang took his master's instructions, went forth as an alms-seeking monk, and traveled straight to Jiangzhou. It chanced that Liu Hong was away on business—and it was Heaven's own arrangement that mother and son should meet. Xuanzang went straight to the gate of the private residence to beg alms.
Now the young lady Yin had that very night had a dream: she dreamed the waning moon was made full again, and thought to herself: "I have no word of my mother-in-law; my husband was murdered by this villain; my child was cast into the river. If someone took him in and raised him, he would be eighteen by now. Who knows—perhaps today Heaven ordains a meeting."
While she pondered, she suddenly heard someone before the residence chanting sutras and calling "Alms, alms." The young lady came out to ask: "Whence do you come?"
"Your poor monk," answered Xuanzang, "is a disciple of Elder Faming of Gold Mountain Temple."
"You are a disciple of the elder of Gold Mountain Temple—" she said, and called him into the residence, giving him a vegetarian meal.
Watching his bearing and speech closely, he seemed just like her husband. She sent her maids away and asked: "Little master, were you tonsured in childhood, or in mid-life? What is your name? Have you parents?"
"I was not tonsured in childhood," answered Xuanzang, "nor in mid-life. To tell the truth, my wrong is as big as heaven and my grievance as deep as the sea! My father was murdered; my mother was taken by force by the villain. Master Faming instructed me to seek my mother in the yamen of Jiangzhou."
"What is your mother's surname?" asked the young lady.
"My mother's surname is Yin, her name Wenjiao; my father was surnamed Chen, named Guangrui. My childhood name is Jiangliu, and my religious name is Xuanzang."
"I am Wenjiao," said the young lady. "But what proof have you?"
Hearing that this was his mother, Xuanzang fell upon his knees and wept piteously: "If my mother does not believe, here are the blood letter and the undershirt in witness!" Wenjiao took them and looked: indeed they were true. Mother and son fell into each other's arms and wept. Then she cried: "My child, go quickly!"
"Eighteen years I knew not the parents who bore me," said Xuanzang, "and only today have I seen my mother—how can you ask your child to part from you so soon?"
"My child, you must fly from here at once!" said the young lady. "If the villain Liu returns, he will surely take your life! Tomorrow I shall feign illness and say that years ago I vowed to bestow a hundred pairs of monk's sandals, and am come to your temple to fulfill the vow. At that time, I shall have words to say to you."
Xuanzang obeyed and bade her farewell.
Now from the time the young lady had seen her son, her heart held one part sorrow and one part joy. A day later she pleaded illness, refused tea and rice, and lay abed.
When Liu Hong returned to the residence, he asked the cause. "In childhood I made a vow," said the young lady, "to bestow a hundred pairs of monk's sandals. Five days ago I dreamed of a monk holding a keen blade, come to demand the sandals—and since then I have felt unwell."
"Why did you not say so earlier, over such a small matter?" said Liu Hong. He went straight to the hall and instructed the two aides Wang and Li: every household in the city of Jiangzhou must prepare one pair of monk's sandals, to be delivered within five days.
The people all prepared them according to the levy.
"Since the sandals are done," the young lady said to Liu Hong, "what temples are there hereabouts where I might fulfill the vow?"
"In Jiangzhou there is Gold Mountain Temple and Scorch Mountain Temple," said Liu Hong. "Go to whichever you please."
"Long have I heard that Gold Mountain Temple is a fine establishment," said the young lady. "I shall go to Gold Mountain Temple."
Liu Hong ordered the aides Wang and Li to prepare a boat. The young lady, taking her trusted attendants, boarded; the boatman poled off, and they made for Gold Mountain Temple.
We tell now how Xuanzang returned to the temple and reported everything to Elder Faming, who was greatly pleased. The next day a maid arrived first, announcing that the lady was coming to the temple to fulfill her vow. The monks all came out to welcome her. The young lady entered the temple gate, worshiped before the Bodhisattva, made a grand offering of alms, and bade her maids bear the monk's sandals and summer stockings on trays.
Coming to the Dharma hall, the young lady again lit heart-incense and worshiped, and bade Elder Faming distribute the offerings among the monks. When Xuanzang saw the monks dispersed and not one soul left in the hall, he drew near and knelt. The young lady bade him remove his sandals and stockings—and indeed the left foot lacked its little toe. The two embraced and wept once more, and gave thanks to the elder for the kindness of his nurture.
Faming said: "Now that mother and son have met, I fear the villain may learn of it. Withdraw quickly back, that you may escape the calamity."
"My child," said the young lady, "I will give you an incense ring. Go straight to the northwest of Hongzhou, some fifteen hundred li distant, to the Ten Thousand Flowers Inn, where your grandmother, née Zhang, your father's own mother, was left behind. I shall also write a letter for you: go straight into the Tang sovereign's capital, left of the golden hall, to the home of Prime Minister Yin Kaishan—your mother's own father and mother. Deliver my letter to your grandfather, and bid him memorialize the Tang sovereign, lead troops, seize and slay this villain, and avenge your father; only then can you deliver your old mother's body from bondage. I dare not linger now, for fear the villain chide me for returning late." With that she left the temple and boarded her boat.
Xuanzang wept his way back to the temple, took leave of his master, and set out straight for Hongzhou.
Coming to the Ten Thousand Flowers Inn, he asked the innkeeper Liu Xiao'er: "In years past, a guest of Jiangzhou named Chen left his mother lodging at your inn. How does she fare now?"
"She lodged at my inn indeed," said Liu Xiao'er. "But later her eyes clouded, and for three or four years she has paid no rent. Now she lives in a broken tile-kiln by the South Gate, going into the streets daily to beg her bread. That guest went off so long ago that to this day there has been no word—why, I cannot say."
Hearing this, Xuanzang went at once to ask at the broken kiln by the South Gate and found his grandmother.
"Your voice is like my son Chen Guangrui's," said the grandmother.
"I am not Chen Guangrui," said Xuanzang. "I am Chen Guangrui's son. The young lady Wenjiao is my mother."
"Why have your father and mother not come?" asked the grandmother.
"My father was beaten to death by a robber; my mother was taken by force as the robber's wife."
"How did you know to come seek me?" said the grandmother.
"It was my mother who sent me to seek you, Grandmother. My mother's letter is here, and an incense ring besides." The old woman took the letter and the ring and wailed aloud: "My son came this way for honor and office—I thought he had turned his back on filial duty! Who knew he had been murdered! Yet joy—High Heaven took pity and did not cut off my son's line, for today his son has come to find me."
"How did your eyes cloud over so, Grandmother?" asked Xuanzang.
"It was longing for your father," said she. "All day I gazed and waited, and he never came, and so I wept till both eyes went dim."
Xuanzang knelt down and prayed toward heaven: "Consider Xuanzang, eighteen years old, unable yet to avenge his parents' wrong. Today, bearing my mother's command, I have come to seek my grandmother. If Heaven pities the sincerity of this disciple, restore my grandmother's two eyes to sight!"
His prayer done, he licked his grandmother's eyes with the tip of his tongue.
In a moment the two eyes were licked open, clear as before. The old woman looked at the little monk: "Truly you are my grandson! The very image of my son Guangrui, not a shade different!"
She rejoiced and grieved together. Xuanzang led her out of the kiln and back to Liu Xiao'er's inn, paid some rent, and hired a room for her to live in.
He then gave her travel money, saying: "I shall return within a month or so."
Farewell said to his grandmother, he went straight to the capital.
He found the Prime Minister Yin's mansion on the East Street of the imperial city and said to the gatekeeper: "This little monk is a relative, come to call upon His Honor."
The gatekeeper reported to the Prime Minister, who said: "I have no monk among my kin." But his lady said: "Last night I dreamed our daughter Mantangjiao came home. Can it be there is a letter from our son-in-law?" The Prime Minister had the little monk invited into the hall. Seeing the Prime Minister and his lady, the little monk fell weeping to the ground, drew a letter from his bosom, and presented it to the Prime Minister. He opened and read it through from the first, then burst into loud weeping.
"What has happened, husband?" asked the lady.
"This monk is your nephew and mine," said the Prime Minister. "Our son-in-law Chen Guangrui was murdered by a robber; Mantangjiao was taken by force as the robber's wife." Hearing this, the lady likewise wept without ceasing.
"Lady, do not grieve," said the Prime Minister. "Tomorrow morning I shall memorialize our sovereign, lead the troops in person, and surely avenge our son-in-law."
The next day the Prime Minister entered court and memorialized the Tang sovereign: "Your servant's son-in-law, the Zhuangyuan Chen Guangrui, taking his family to his post at Jiangzhou, was beaten to death by the boatman Liu Hong, who seized his daughter as wife, impersonated your servant's son-in-law, and has held office for many years—a most extraordinary crime. I beg Your Majesty to dispatch troops at once to exterminate the robber band."
The Tang sovereign, seeing the memorial, was greatly angered. He dispatched sixty thousand of the Palace Guard, with Prime Minister Yin commanding. The Prime Minister received the decree, left the court, mustered his troops at the parade ground, and marched straight upon Jiangzhou. Traveling at dawn, lodging at nightfall, stars setting and birds flying, they came unawares to Jiangzhou. Prime Minister Yin's troops and horse encamped on the north bank.
That very night he sent gold-token summons to the Subprefect and Judge of Jiangzhou, told them the whole affair, and bade them bring troops to aid. They crossed the river together. Before the sky was light they had surrounded Liu Hong's yamen. Liu Hong was deep in dreams when a cannon sounded, gongs and drums thundered as one, and the soldiers stormed into the private residence. Caught unprepared, Liu Hong was seized before he could lift a hand.
The Prime Minister issued the military order: bind Liu Hong and his whole crew of criminals and carry them to the execution ground, while the army encamped outside the city.
The Prime Minister went straight into the yamen, seated himself in the main hall, and invited the young lady out to meet him. She would have come out, but shame before her father overcame her, and she tried to hang herself. Xuanzang, hearing of it, hurriedly rescued his mother, then knelt on both knees before her: "Your son and your grandfather have led troops here to avenge Father. Today the villain is already taken—why does Mother seek death instead? If Mother dies, how can your child live on?" The Prime Minister also came in and urged comfort upon her.
"I have heard," said the young lady, "that a wife follows one husband to the end. My beloved husband was slain by this villain—how could I brazen out a life with the robber? Only because his posthumous child lay in my womb did I endure shame and steal life. Now, happily, my son is grown, and I see my old father leading troops to avenge us; yet as a daughter, what face have I to meet you? There is nothing left but death, to make report to my husband!"
"This is no change of constancy with changing fortune in my child," said the Prime Minister. "All was done of sheer necessity—how can it be called shame!"
Father and daughter embraced and wept, and Xuanzang wept piteously without end.
Wiping his tears, the Prime Minister said: "Let you two grieve no more. I have seized the villain of your wrongs—let us go now and dispatch him."
He rose and went to the execution ground. By chance the Subprefect of Jiangzhou had also sent patrols who had captured the river pirate Li Biao and delivered him there. The Prime Minister was overjoyed, and ordered the military jailers to bring up Liu Hong and Li Biao, give each a hundred strokes of the heavy rod, and take their confessions. They confessed in full their crime of murdering Chen Guangrui in the former year. Li Biao was first nailed to the wooden ass [Translator's note: an instrument of punishment], paraded to the marketplace, sliced with a thousand cuts, and his head displayed to the crowd. Liu Hong was taken to the Flood River ferry, to the very place where he had beaten Chen Guangrui to death. The Prime Minister, the young lady, and Xuanzang, the three of them, came in person to the riverbank, made offerings toward the empty air, cut out Liu Hong's heart and liver while he yet lived, sacrificed them to Guangrui, and burned a sacrificial text.
The three gazed upon the river and wept bitterly—so bitterly that the water palace below was stirred. The sea-patrolling yaksa carried the sacrificial text and presented it to the Dragon King. When the Dragon King had read it, he dispatched Marshal Soft-Shelled Turtle to invite Guangrui in, saying: "Sir, congratulations! Congratulations! Your lady, your son, and your father-in-law are all at the riverside offering sacrifice to you. Today I send your soul back to your body. I further present you one As-You-Will pearl, two rolling-plate pearls, ten bolts of mermaid silk, and one bright pearl and jade girdle. Today you may be reunited, husband with wife, mother with son." Guangrui bowed his thanks again and again. The Dragon King bade the yaksa carry Guangrui's body out of the river mouth to be restored to life, and the yaksa took the command and went.
We tell instead how the young lady Yin, after weeping her offerings to her husband, sought again to fling herself into the river and die, and how Xuanzang in desperation clung to her and held her back. In the midst of the panic, a corpse suddenly floated up upon the water and drifted near the riverbank. The young lady hurried forward to look at it, recognized her husband's body, and wept aloud all the more without cease.
Everyone came to look, and they saw Guangrui stretch his fists and extend his legs; slowly the body began to move, and suddenly he sat up. All were amazed beyond measure. Guangrui opened his eyes, and there before him were the young lady Yin, his father-in-law the Prime Minister, and the little monk, all weeping at his side.
"Why are you all here?" asked Guangrui.
"Because you were beaten to death by the villain," said the young lady. "Afterward I bore this child, who by fortune was rescued and raised by the elder of Gold Mountain Temple. Grown, he sought me out, and we met. I sent him to find my father; my father learned of it, memorialized the court, led troops here, and seized the villain. Just now we cut out the living heart and liver and offered them in sacrifice to you in the empty air—I know not how my husband has returned to life."
"It was all because, years ago at the Ten Thousand Flowers Inn, you and I bought and released that golden carp," said Guangrui. "Who knew that carp was the Dragon King of this very place? Later, when the rebel threw me into the water, it was wholly thanks to him that he saved me; just now he granted me life again and presented me with treasures—all here upon my body. And more: that you bore this son, and that my father-in-law took vengeance for me—truly bitterness has ended and sweetness begun, a joy beyond all joys!"
The officials, hearing of it, all came to offer congratulations. The Prime Minister ordered a banquet laid to thank the subordinate officials, and that same day the troops set out on the return journey. Coming to the Ten Thousand Flowers Inn, the Prime Minister ordered camp pitched, and Guangrui went with Xuanzang to the Liu family's inn to find his mother.
Now the old grandmother had that night had a dream: she dreamed a withered tree burst into flower, and magpies behind the house chattered ceaselessly. "Can it be," she thought, "that my grandson is coming?"
Hardly were the words out of her mouth than, before the inn gate, Guangrui father and son arrived together. The little monk pointed: "Is this not our grandmother?" Guangrui, seeing his aged mother, hurriedly fell to his knees. Mother and son embraced and wept bitterly, then told over all that had passed. They settled the reckoning for the inn, and set out back to the capital. Entering the Prime Minister's mansion, Guangrui, with the young lady, his mother, and Xuanzang, all came before the lady of the house, who was overjoyed and ordered the servants to lay a grand feast of celebration.
"This feast of today," said the Prime Minister, "may be called the Reunion Banquet." Truly the whole household rejoiced.
The next day at early court, the Tang sovereign ascended his hall. Prime Minister Yin stepped from the ranks and memorialized the whole affair in detail from first to last, recommending Guangrui's talents for great employment. The Tang sovereign approved, and at once promoted Chen E to the office of Scholar of the Academy, to attend court and manage affairs of state. Xuanzang, resolved upon a life of still meditation, was sent to the Temple of Vast Blessing to cultivate the Way. In later years the young lady Yin, in the end, composed herself and took her own life; Xuanzang went of his own accord to Gold Mountain Temple to repay Elder Faming's kindness.
If you would know how matters went thereafter, listen to the explanation in the next chapter.