To the tune "Moon Over the West River":
Once a thought stirs, love is certain; Once affection lingers, disaster follows. Why must the numinous mind distinguish the Three Stars? When deeds are done, of itself it returns to the primal sea. Whether you would become immortal or become a Buddha, All must be arranged within the self. Pure and clear, free of every grain of dust, The fruit perfected, you soar aloft to the highest realm.
Meanwhile the monks of the monastery, when dawn came and they saw no trace of Sanzang and his disciples, all said: "They neither stayed to be entertained, nor took their leave, nor asked for a single thing—we have simply let a living Bodhisattva slip away!"
Just as they were speaking, several leading households from the southern ward arrived with invitations. The monks clapped their hands and said: "Last night we failed to keep our guard, and tonight they have all ridden away on the clouds." The crowd all bowed toward the sky in thanks. When this tale spread, the officers and people of the whole city came to know of it, and they called upon those wealthy households to prepare the five sacrificial animals—ox, sheep, pig, dog, and fowl—with flowers and fruit, and to offer them at the shrine raised to the living monks, in repayment of their kindness. Of this we say no more.
Now the four travelers from Tang, eating the wind and sleeping by the water, journeyed on in perfect peace for half a month or more. Suddenly one day they saw a lofty mountain ahead, and Tang Sanzang was afraid again. "Disciples," he said, "those ridges and peaks ahead are steep and craggy. You must be careful!"
"On this road we are drawing close to the land of the Buddha," laughed the Pilgrim, "and there can certainly be no demon or monster here. Set your mind at ease, Master, and have no worry."
"Disciple," said Tang Sanzang, "though the land of the Buddha is not far, still those monks at the monastery the other day said it is two thousand li to the capital of the Kingdom of Tianzhu. Who knows how much road still lies ahead of us."
"Master," said the Pilgrim, "have you gone and forgotten the Heart Sutra of the Chan Master of the Crow's Nest again?"
"The Prajnaparamita Heart Sutra is the robe and alms bowl I carry with me," said Sanzang. "Since the Chan Master of the Crow's Nest taught it to me, is there a single day I have not recited it, a single hour in which I could forget it? I can recite it backwards and forwards—how could I ever forget it!"
"Master, you can recite it," said the Pilgrim, "but you never asked that master to explain it."
"Monkey-head!" said Sanzang. "How can you say again that I have not understood it! Do you understand it, then?"
"I understand it, I understand it," said the Pilgrim. And from that moment on, Sanzang and the Pilgrim spoke no more.
Beside them, Bajie laughed himself to pieces and the Sha Monk was beside himself with glee. "What a face!" they said. "He was born a demon just the same as the rest of us. He is not some Chan monk who has sat through sermons on the sutras, nor a Buddhist acolyte who has seen the Dharma expounded. Putting on airs and striking a pose! 'Understand,' he says, 'comprehend,' he says! And now why has he gone quiet? Let him lecture! Let him explain!"
"Second Brother," said the Sha Monk, "don't you believe him either. Eldest Brother spins a long tale just to coax the master along the road. All he knows is brandishing his cudgel—what would he know about expounding sutras!"
"Wuneng, Wujing, stop your nonsense," said Sanzang. "What Wukong understands is the explanation that lies beyond words and letters—that is the true understanding."
While master and disciples were still talking, they had in fact covered a good stretch of road and passed beyond several ridges, when there soon appeared beside the road a great monastery.
"Wukong," said Sanzang, "there is a monastery ahead. Look at it—neither too large nor too small, and yet with its glazed green tiles; neither new nor old, and yet with its red walls spreading wide like the character 'eight.' Dimly you can see ancient pines with their green canopies, standing there heaven knows how many centuries since they were planted; murmuring you can hear flowing water like plucked strings, left behind heaven knows in which dynasty when the mountain was opened. On the mountain gate is written in large characters 'The Monastery of Spreading Gold'; on the hanging plaque is inscribed 'A Relic of Ancient Times.'"
The Pilgrim could see it was the Monastery of Spreading Gold, and Bajie also said it was the Monastery of Spreading Gold. Sanzang mused on horseback: "Spreading Gold, spreading Gold—can this, I wonder, be the borders of the Kingdom of Shravasti?"
"Master, how strange!" said Bajie. "I have followed you for years and never once known the road, but today I know it too."
"No, not that," said Sanzang. "I often read the scriptures and recite the classics, and it is written that the Buddha was in the Garden of the Elder of the Orphans in the city of Shravasti. This garden, so the story goes, the Elder of the Orphans bought from the crown prince, to invite the Buddha to preach. The prince said: 'I will not sell this garden. If he wishes to buy it from me, he must cover the whole ground with gold.' When the Elder of the Orphans heard this, he at once used gold for bricks and covered the whole ground with them; only thus did he buy the prince's Jetavana garden, and only thus did he invite the World-Honored One to preach the Dharma. I wonder if this Monastery of Spreading Gold is not that very story?"
"What luck!" laughed Bajie. "If it is that story, we should go and pry up a brick or two to give as presents." They all laughed for a while, and only then did Sanzang dismount from his horse.
As they entered the mountain gate, they saw beneath it porters with carrying poles, bearers with packs, and cart-pushers, all seated with their loads; some lay down to sleep, and some sat talking. When they suddenly caught sight of the four travelers—the handsome exceedingly handsome, the ugly exceedingly ugly—the crowd took fright, but all the same they made way for them. Sanzang, afraid of stirring up trouble, kept calling out: "Be civil! Be civil!" And at this the crowd indeed grew more restrained.
They had just turned the corner behind the Hall of the Guardian Kings when a Chan monk came out to meet them, of no common dignity. Truly:
His face was bright as the full moon's light, His body straight as the bodhi tree. A staff in hand, sleeves flying in the wind, Straw sandals upon the stony road.
When Sanzang saw him, he greeted him with palms pressed together. The monk at once returned the courtesy and asked: "Whence has the master come?"
"Your disciple is Chen Xuanzang," said Sanzang, "sent by imperial command of the emperor of the Great Tang of the Eastern Land to the Western Heaven to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. Passing through this noble region, I make bold to pay my respects and beg the loan of a night's lodging; tomorrow we will be on our way."
"This poor mountain is a hospice for monks from the ten directions," said the monk, "and all may take their pleasure here. How much the more for an elder, a holy monk of the Eastern Land! To be able to offer you hospitality would be our very great fortune." Sanzang thanked him, and then called the other three to accompany them; they passed the cloisters and the kitchen and went straight into the abbot's quarters.
The greetings done, they sat down as host and guests, and the Pilgrim and his two companions, with their hands hanging respectfully at their sides, also took their seats.
Now when the monastery learned that a scripture-seeking monk of the Great Tang of the Eastern Land had arrived, everyone in it, great and small, whether permanent residents or transient lodgers, elders or serving boys, came one and all to pay their respects. When tea was finished, the vegetarian meal was laid out. The elder had barely begun the meal with his gatha when Bajie, in his urgency, shoveled down the steamed buns, the vegetable dishes, and the noodle soup in one great confused gulp.
The abbot's quarters were crowded just then. Those with learning praised Sanzang's dignity, while those fond of a joke watched Bajie eat.
Now the Sha Monk, quick of eye, saw how things stood, and secretly pinched Bajie, saying: "Be civil!"
Bajie, caught off guard, cried out hastily: "Civil, civil! But my belly is quite empty!"
"Second Brother, you don't understand," laughed the Sha Monk. "For all the 'civil' folk in the world, if you speak of what is in their bellies, they are just the same as you and me." Only then did Bajie stop.
Sanzang recited the gatha that closed the meal, the attendants cleared away the dishes, and Sanzang gave his thanks.
The monks asked the reason for the journey from the Eastern Land, and Sanzang spoke of ancient things, and only then asked the origin of the name of the Monastery of Spreading Gold.
The monk replied: "This monastery was originally the Monastery of the Garden of the Elder of the Orphans in the Kingdom of Shravasti, also called the Jetavana. Because the Elder of the Orphans invited the Buddha to preach and paved the ground with bricks of gold, it was changed to its present name. Within sight of this monastery lay the Kingdom of Shravasti, where the Elder of the Orphans then dwelt. This poor mountain was originally the elder's Jetavana garden, and for that reason it came to be called the Monastery of Spreading Gold of the Elder of the Orphans; behind the monastery the foundations of the Jetavana are still to be seen. In recent years, whenever the seasonal rains pour down in torrents, bits of gold, silver, and pearls are still washed out of the earth, and those with good fortune often pick them up."
"It is no empty tale, then—it is indeed true!" said Sanzang. He asked again: "When I entered this precious mountain just now, I saw beneath the gate and along the two galleries many traveling merchants with mules, carts, and carrying poles. Why are they lodging here?"
"This mountain of ours is called the Hundred-Foot Mountain," said the monks. "In former years it was quite peaceful. But lately, through the cycles of heaven, who knows how, several centipede spirits have come into being; they often lurk by the roadside and wound people. Though they do not take lives, in truth no one dares to walk the road. At the foot of the mountain there is a pass called the Cockcrow Pass, and only at the time when the cock crows do people dare cross it. Those merchants arrived late and, fearing trouble, have borrowed a night's lodging in this poor mountain; they will set out once the cock has crowed."
"Then we too will wait and leave after the cock crows," said Sanzang.
While master and disciples were still talking, another meal was brought in, and they all ate their fill.
At this time the moon of the first quarter was bright, and Sanzang and the Pilgrim strolled out to enjoy the moonlight. A serving monk came to report: "Our old abbot wishes to see people from China."
Sanzang turned hastily and saw an old monk holding a bamboo staff, who stepped forward and made a bow: "Is this the master who has come from China?"
"I am not worthy of the title," replied Sanzang, returning the courtesy. The old monk praised him without end. Then he asked: "What is the master's honorable age?"
"I have idled through forty-five years," said Sanzang. "May I ask the old abbot's venerable age?"
"I have the folly to be a full cycle of sixty years older than the master," laughed the old monk.
"That makes one hundred and five this year," said the Pilgrim. "Now, look at me—how old do you think I am?"
"The master's face is ancient and his spirit clear," said the old monk, "and besides, on this moonlit night my old eyes are dim, so I cannot make it out at a glance."
They chatted for a while, and then walked on to look at the rear cloisters. "You spoke just now of the foundations of the Garden of the Elder of the Orphans," said Sanzang. "Where exactly are they?"
"Just beyond the rear gate," said the old monk. He bade them open the gate quickly, and they saw a stretch of empty ground, with the footings of walls still built of broken stones.
Sanzang pressed his palms together and sighed:
"I think of the giver of old, Sudatta, Who used his gold and treasure to relieve the poor and sick. The Jetavana's fame remains through ten thousand ages— But in what place does the elder now keep company with the Buddha's kin?"
They all strolled slowly on in the moonlight, and when they drew near the rear gate they sat for a while on the terrace. Suddenly they heard the sound of weeping. Sanzang listened with a stilled heart, and the voice was crying out words about a father and mother who knew nothing of her suffering. Moved to the heart, he shed tears without realizing it, and turned to ask the monks: "Who is that weeping so bitterly, and where?"
At this question the old monk bade the other monks go back first and boil tea, and only when no one else remained did he kneel down before Tang Sanzang and the Pilgrim.
Sanzang raised him up: "Old abbot, why do you perform such a ceremony?"
"Your disciple is over a hundred years old," said the old monk, "and knows a little of the ways of the world. In my quiet meditations I have seen a number of visions. Of your honored master and disciples I know a thing or two—you are not like other men. As for this matter of the weeping, none but this master here can clearly discern it."
"Tell me then what it is," said the Pilgrim.
"On this very day last year," said the old monk, "while I was making bright the moon of my nature in meditation, I suddenly heard a gust of wind, and with it a voice of grief and resentment. I rose from my couch and went to look at the foundations of the Jetavana, and there was a beautiful and upright young woman. I asked her: 'Whose daughter are you, and how came you to this place?' The girl said: 'I am the princess of the King of the Kingdom of Tianzhu. Because I was viewing flowers in the moonlight, a wind carried me here.' I locked her in a shabby empty room, and had the room walled up in the shape of a prison cell, leaving only a small hole in the door, just large enough for a bowl to pass through. At the time I told the monks she was a demon spirit and that I had bound her; but we monks are people of compassion, and I would not take her life. Each day she is given two meals of coarse tea and coarse rice to keep her alive. The girl is clever, too, and at once understood my intention; fearing the monks might defile her, she put on the airs of a madwoman, sleeping in her own urine and lying in her own filth. By day she talks wild nonsense, dazed and blank; but in the stillness of night she thinks of her parents and weeps. I have several times gone into the city to beg alms and sound out the matter of the princess, and found that no harm had come to her at all. And so I keep her tightly locked and never let her out. Now happily the master has come to this kingdom. I beg that when you reach the capital you will display your mighty powers to the full and discern the true from the false. In this way you will rescue a good and innocent soul, and in this way, too, your divine powers will be made known."
When Sanzang and the Pilgrim had heard all this, they stored it earnestly in their hearts.
As they were speaking, two young monks came to invite them to tea and to rest, and so they went back. Bajie and the Sha Monk were in the abbot's quarters grumbling away: "Tomorrow we must be on the road at cockcrow, and still they have not come to sleep!"
"What are you muttering about, you blockhead?" said the Pilgrim.
"Let's sleep," said Bajie. "It's this deep in the night, and still they must go looking at the sights." And so the old monk withdrew, and Tang Sanzang went to bed. Truly:
Men are still, and the moon sinks low, and the flowers dream in silence; A warm breeze steals through the gauze that webs the wall's niche. Drop by drop the copper clepsydra marks the third watch; The silver River shines clear upon the ninefold glories.
They had not slept long that night when they heard the cock crow. The traveling merchants up front all rose in a bustle, lit lamps, and prepared their meals. The elder also woke Bajie and the Sha Monk, saddled the horse, and packed up, while the Pilgrim called for lamps. The monks of the monastery had already risen and made ready tea, soup, and refreshments, and waited respectfully in the rear. Bajie, delighted, ate a plate of steamed buns, then led out the luggage and the horse. Sanzang and the Pilgrim took their leave of the monks with thanks, and the old monk said again to the Pilgrim: "Keep the matter of the weeping one in your heart, in your heart!"
"I take it well in mind, I take it well in mind!" laughed the Pilgrim. "When I reach the city, I will be able to hear a sound and fathom its meaning, and see a face and discern its true colors."
That band of merchants, noisy and bustling, took the highway together as well. It was around the hour of the Tiger when they passed the Cockcrow Pass, and not until the hour of the Snake did they see the city walls—truly an iron urn of a city, a golden fortress, a divine continent, a heaven-made prefecture. That city:
Tiger-crouched, dragon-coiled, its contours rise on high; Phoenix towers and unicorn pavilions shake with colored light. The palace moat flows round like a girdle of jade; The blessed land leans on the hills, flying its banners of brocade. At dawn the sun lights the banners on the imperial road; Spring winds carry flutes and drums across every bridge and ford. The king has the Way, and his court's robes surpass all others; Grain ripens in abundance, displaying its splendor and might.
That day they entered the Eastern Market Street, and the merchants each sought out their inns. As master and disciples walked into the city, they came upon a Hostel for Visiting Officials, and Sanzang and the others went straight inside.
The man in charge of the hostel at once reported to the postal official: "Four most extraordinary monks, leading a white horse, have come in from outside."
Hearing that there was a horse, the postal official knew they were on official business, and came out of the hall to greet them.
Sanzang bowed and said: "This poor monk is an imperial envoy of the Tang court of the Eastern Land, sent to the Great Thunder Monastery on Mount Ling to see the Buddha and seek the scriptures. I carry with me a travel passport, and I have come to the court to have it examined. I beg to borrow a rest in your honorable office, and when the business is done, we will go on our way."
"This office was originally established for the entertainment of envoys and guests," replied the postal official, returning the courtesy. "It is only right that we receive you. Please enter, please enter." Delighted, Sanzang bade his disciples come forward and be introduced. When the postal official saw their ugly features, he was secretly alarmed, unable to tell whether they were men or ghosts; trembling, he could only order tea and set out the meal.
Seeing his fear, Sanzang said: "Be not alarmed, my lord. These three disciples of mine, though ugly of appearance, are all good at heart. As the saying goes, a mountain may be wild and yet its people kind. What is there to fear!"
Only at these words did the postal official settle his mind, and he asked: "State Preceptor, in what direction does the Tang empire lie?"
"It lies in the land of China, on the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa," said Sanzang.
"How long is it since you left home?" he asked again.
"In the thirteenth year of the Zhenguan era," said Sanzang. "Fourteen years have now gone by, and after bitter trials over ten thousand mountains and a thousand rivers, I have only now reached this place."
"A holy monk! A holy monk!" cried the postal official.
"How long has your honored kingdom been founded?" asked Sanzang.
"Our humble region is the great Kingdom of Tianzhu," said the postal official. "From its first ancestor and its great ancestor down to the present it has passed through more than five hundred years. The present sovereign loves mountains, waters, and flowers, and is styled the Emperor Yizong; he changed the era name to Jingyan, and it is now twenty-eight years since."
"Today this poor monk must go to see His Majesty and exchange his passport," said Sanzang. "I wonder whether I may chance to find the court in session."
"Excellent! Excellent! Perfect!" said the postal official. "Lately the king's daughter, Her Highness the princess, who has reached the youthful age of twenty, is at the crossroads, where she has raised high a bower of colored silks and is throwing down a silk ball, to take a husband as heaven's match. Today is just the height of the bustle, and I think His Majesty has not yet left the court. If you wish to exchange your passport, this is the very time to go."
Sanzang was all eagerness to be off, but the meal was set out just then, and so he ate with the postal official, the Pilgrim, and the rest.
It was already past noon. "I had best be going," said Sanzang.
"I will escort you, Master," said the Pilgrim.
"I'll go," said Bajie.
"Stop that, Second Brother," said the Sha Monk. "Your face is nothing worth showing off. Don't go swelling yourself up outside the court gates. Let Eldest Brother go."
"Well said, Wujing," said Sanzang. "The blockhead is too coarse; Wukong has a little more finesse."
The blockhead pouted his lips: "Setting aside the master, the faces of us three are much of a muchness."
Sanzang then put on his cassock, and the Pilgrim took up the hand bell, and they went together. On the streets, scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants, men of letters, and simple common folk were all crying in chorus: "Off to see the silk ball thrown!"
Standing by the roadside, Sanzang said to the Pilgrim: "The people here, their dress, their palaces and utensils, their speech and bearing—all are just the same as in our Great Tang. I recall that my own late mother, before she entered the religious life, also met her destined match through the throwing of a silk ball, and so became a wife. This place has the same custom."
"Shall we go and have a look too?" asked the Pilgrim.
"No, no!" said Sanzang. "Our robes and colors would be out of place, and I fear suspicion."
"Master, have you forgotten the words of the old monk of the Monastery of the Elder of the Orphans Who Spread the Gold?" said the Pilgrim. "We should go to see the bower, and we should go to tell the true from the false. With all this bustle, the emperor will surely be hearing the good news of the princess—how could he be holding court and attending to business? Let us go and come back!"
Hearing this, Sanzang indeed followed the Pilgrim, and they saw every kind of person gathered there watching the throwing of the ball. Ah! Little did they know that this outing would be as when a fisherman casts his hook and line—from this moment on, trouble would be hooked out.
Now as for that King of Tianzhu: because he loved mountains, waters, and flowers, the year before last he had taken his consorts and the princess to the imperial garden to enjoy the sights on a moonlit night. This stirred up a demon spirit, which carried off the true princess and changed itself into a false one. Knowing that Tang Sanzang would arrive this year, this month, this day, this very hour, it borrowed the wealth of the kingdom to raise this bower of colored silks, intending to take Tang Sanzang as a husband and drain his primal yang, his true vital breath, so as to become a Great Unity Supreme Immortal.
It was just the third quarter of the hour of the Noon when Sanzang and the Pilgrim mingled with the crowd and drew near the tower. The princess was just lighting incense and praying to heaven and earth. Around her stood fifty or seventy richly rouged embroidering maids, and her close attendants held the silk ball. The tower had eight latticed windows, and the princess cast her eyes about. Seeing Tang Sanzang draw very near, she took the silk ball and threw it with her own hand onto Tang Sanzang's head.
Startled, Tang Sanzang had his vairochana cap knocked askew; with both hands he hurriedly caught at the ball, and it rolled down inside his sleeve.
From the tower rose a chorus of cries: "It has struck a monk! It has struck a monk!"
Ah! At the crossroads, the crowd of merchants and travelers, pressing and jostling, all came rushing to snatch the ball. But the Pilgrim gave a shout, bared his teeth, hunched his back, and grew to thirty feet tall; with a show of divine power and a display of his ugly face, he frightened the crowd so that they stumbled and crawled and dared not come near. In a moment the crowd scattered, and the Pilgrim resumed his true form.
The embroidering maids, the palace maids, and the eunuchs great and small all came down from the tower and knelt to Tang Sanzang: "Your lordship! Your lordship! Pray enter the court and accept our congratulations."
Sanzang hastily returned the courtesy and raised them up, then turned to reproach the Pilgrim: "You ape-head! You have tricked me again!"
"It hit you on the head and rolled into your sleeve," laughed the Pilgrim. "What has that to do with me? Why blame me?"
"How are we to deal with this, then?" asked Sanzang.
"Set your mind at rest, Master," said the Pilgrim. "Go into court and see His Majesty. I will return to the hostel and tell Bajie and the Sha Monk to wait. If the princess does not take you for a husband, well and good—exchange the passport and be on your way. If she insists on taking you, then tell the king to summon your disciples, for you must give them a word of instruction. When the three of us are summoned to court, I will be able to distinguish the true from the false. This is a plan to rely on the marriage to subdue the monster."
Tang Sanzang could do nothing but follow his advice, and the Pilgrim turned and went back to the hostel.
The elder was escorted by the crowd of palace maids to the front of the tower. The princess came down, took him by the hand with her jadelike fingers, and they mounted the jeweled carriage together. The procession spread out in full array and turned back toward the court gate.
A Yellow Gate officer had already reported: "Long live Your Majesty! Her Highness the princess is holding the arm of a monk. He must be the one struck by the silk ball, and they now await your command outside the Meridian Gate."
When the king heard this, he was greatly displeased and wanted to drive them off, but he did not know what the princess intended, and so, swallowing his feelings, he summoned them in. The princess and Tang Sanzang thus came before the Golden Chimes Hall—truly, a pair crying "Long live!" as husband and wife, two gates, one of evil and one of good, bowing in homage for a thousand autumns.
When the ceremony was done, they were summoned up into the hall, and the king opened his mouth to ask: "Whence comes this monk, that he should be hit by the ball my daughter threw?"
Tang Sanzang prostrated himself and memorialized: "This poor monk was sent by the emperor of the Great Tang of the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa to the Great Thunder Monastery in the Western Heaven to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. Because I bear a travel passport for the long road, I have come especially to court Your Majesty to exchange it. Passing beneath the bower of colored silks at the crossroads, I never expected Her Highness the princess to throw her silk ball and strike this poor monk on the head. This poor monk is a man who has left the world for another faith—how dare I become the mate of a golden branch and jade leaf! I beg only that Your Majesty pardon this poor monk's crime of death, exchange my passport, and send me early to the Spirit Mountain to see the Buddha and seek the scriptures, that I may return to my own country and forever remember Your Majesty's heaven-sent grace!"
"You are a holy monk of the Eastern Land," said the king. "As the saying goes, a marriage destined for a thousand li is tied by a single thread. My daughter, the princess, has reached the age of twenty and is still unmarried. Because today has been found auspicious in year, month, day, and hour, we raised the bower of colored silks and threw the ball, to seek a fitting mate. And as luck would have it, you were the one struck. Though I am not pleased, I do not know what the princess intends."
The princess kowtowed and said: "Father King, as the saying goes: marry a cock and follow the cock; marry a dog and follow the dog. Your daughter made a vow beforehand: once this ball was thrown, having proclaimed it to heaven and earth and the gods, the marriage would be decided by heaven. Today it has struck the holy monk. This is the destiny of a former life, meeting again in this present one—how dare I change it! I wish to take him as my prince consort."
Only then was the king pleased. He at once summoned the chief astronomer of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau to choose a date, and meanwhile ordered the dowry made ready, and issued an edict making the matter known to all the world.
Hearing this, Sanzang did not thank the king for his favor but only cried: "Release me, pardon me! Release me, pardon me!"
"This monk has no sense of reason at all," said the king. "With all the wealth of a kingdom, I would take you as prince consort. Why will you not stay here, but insist, thought after thought, on fetching scriptures! If you refuse again, I will have the brocade-robed officers drag you out and behead you!"
The elder was so frightened that his soul fled his body, and trembling, he could only kowtow and memorialize: "I am deeply grateful for Your Majesty's heaven-sent grace. But this poor monk travels as a party of four, and I have three disciples outside. I should now accept your favor, only I have not yet spoken a single word of instruction to them. I beg that you summon them here, exchange the passport, and send them on their way early, so that the purpose of the journey west is not delayed."
The king then granted the petition: "Where are your disciples?"
"They are all in the Hostel for Visiting Officials," said Sanzang.
An officer was at once dispatched to summon the holy monk's disciples to receive the passport and go west, while the holy monk stayed there as prince consort. The elder could only rise and stand in attendance.
There is a poem as proof:
The great elixir, unspilled, needs the threefold perfection; Bitter practice is hard to complete—I hate this evil bond. The Way is handed down by sages, but the cultivation is one's own; Goodness is amassed by men, but fortune comes from heaven. Do not give rein to the six senses and their greed and lust; In an instant open the one nature at its primal source. Free of love, free of longing, pure and clear of themselves, You shall surely win deliverance to transcendent freedom.
At the time, the officer went to the Hostel for Visiting Officials to summon the disciples of Tang Sanzang—of whom we say no more.
Meanwhile the Pilgrim, having parted from Tang Sanzang beneath the bower of colored silks, walked two steps and laughed twice, and returned to the hostel brimming with joy.
Bajie and the Sha Monk greeted him: "Eldest Brother, why are you laughing so merrily? And how is it the master is not with you?"
"The master has found happiness," said the Pilgrim.
"We have not yet reached our destination, nor seen the Buddha or won the scriptures," said Bajie. "What happiness is this?"
"The master and I had only walked as far as the bower of colored silks at the crossroads," laughed the Pilgrim, "when, as luck would have it, the princess of this dynasty threw her silk ball and struck the master. The master was pushed and pulled by palace maids, painted girls, and eunuchs to the front of the tower, and mounted the carriage together with the princess into court, where he was taken as prince consort. If that is not happiness, what is?"
At these words Bajie stamped his feet and beat his breast: "If I had known, I should have gone! It is all that lazy Sha Monk's fault! If you had not stopped me, I would have rushed straight to the foot of the bower, and the silk ball would have struck old Zhu. Would not the princess have taken me instead? How fine, how wonderful! Handsome and smart and proper—we would all have had a grand stroke of luck and a fine bit of fun. What a lark!"
The Sha Monk stepped up and wiped his face: "Shameless! Shameless! What a jaw! 'Bought an old donkey for three pieces of silver, and boasts he can ride it!' If the silk ball had hit you, we would have burned paper to drive off your bad luck that very night, and still thought it too late! Who would dare invite such a hoodoo through the door!"
"You black-skinned fellow, you know nothing of taste!" said Bajie. "Ugly I may be, but I have some flavor. Since ancient times it has been said: rough skin and sturdy bones each have something to recommend them."
"Stop your nonsense, you blockhead!" said the Pilgrim. "Pack up the luggage. I fear the master may grow anxious and send for us, and then we must go into court to protect him."
"Eldest Brother, you are wrong again," said Bajie. "The master has become a prince consort. He is going into the palace to make love to the emperor's daughter. It is not a matter of climbing mountains and treading roads, or meeting monsters and demons—what need has he of your protection? At his age, does he not know what goes on between the bedclothes? Does he need you to prop him up?"
The Pilgrim grabbed him by the ear with one hand and shook his fist at him: "You beastly blockhead, with your never-ending lecherous thoughts! What nonsense are you talking!"
Just as they were quarreling, the postal official came to report: "His Majesty has issued a decree and sent an officer to invite the three holy monks."
"Why, exactly, does he invite us?" asked Bajie.
"The old holy monk has had the good fortune to be hit by the silk ball of Her Highness the princess and been taken as prince consort," said the postal official. "And so an officer has been sent to invite you."
"Where is the officer?" said the Pilgrim. "Bid him come in."
The officer bowed to the Pilgrim. When the courtesy was done, he dared not raise his eyes but kept muttering to himself: "Is it a ghost, a demon? Is it the Thunder God, a yaksha?"
"You fellow," said the Pilgrim, "if you have something to say, why do you not say it? Why are you humming and hawing?"
The officer, trembling with fright, held up the imperial decree with both hands and stammered wildly: "Her Highness the princess invites you to the meeting of relatives! His Majesty invites you to the meeting of relatives!"
"No instruments of torture here—we will not beat you," said Bajie. "Speak slowly, and do not be afraid."
"Who is afraid of your beating?" said the Pilgrim. "He is afraid of your face! Hurry—pack up the loads, lead the horse, and come into court to discuss matters with the master!"
Truly:
When roads meet on a narrow way, it is hard to turn aside; It is certain that love and favor shall turn into hatred.
After all, who knows what words they spoke when they saw the king? Listen to the explanation in the next chapter.