All forms in their origin are formless; Emptiness itself is not truly empty. In stillness and clamor, speech and silence, it is all the same from the first; Within a dream, why labor to speak of dreams? Within the useful, the useless has its use; Within the meritless, merit still works its work. It is like fruit that reddens of itself when ripe— Ask not how it was planted and tended.
This story tells how Tang Sanzang and his disciples used their magic powers to hold back the monks of the Monastery of the Elder of the Orphans Who Spread the Gold. When the monks saw that in the wake of the black wind the four pilgrims had vanished without a trace, they took them for living Buddhas come down to earth, knocked their heads in worship, and returned—but of that no more.
Master and disciples pressed westward, and it was just the season when spring was ending and summer beginning: air clear and mild, lotus sprouting in the ponds. The plums ripened after the rain; the wheat grew ripe with the wind. Where the grass was fragrant, the flowers had fallen; the orioles were growing old among the willow branches. River swallows were training their young in flight; mountain pheasants called as they fed their chicks. The Dipper pointed south, the days stretched long, and all things shone bright in the light. Morning meals and evening lodgings, winding round ravines and seeking out slopes—there was no telling it all. On that peaceful road they traveled for half a month, until another city wall drew near ahead.
"Disciples," asked Sanzang, "what place is this?"
"I don't know, I don't know," said the Pilgrim.
Bajie laughed: "This road is one you've traveled before. How can you say you don't know? There's something fishy here—you're pretending not to recognize it, just to make fools of us."
"This blockhead understands nothing at all!" said the Pilgrim. "It's true I've passed this way a few times, but always in the high heavens, coming on my cloud and going on my cloud. When did I ever set foot on this ground? What doesn't concern us doesn't need inquiring into—that's why I don't know. What's fishy about that? Who's making a fool of you?"
While they were talking, before they knew it they had reached the outskirts. Sanzang dismounted, crossed the drawbridge, and went straight through the gate. On the main street he saw two old men sitting in conversation beneath a colonnade. Sanzang called: "Disciples, stand still in the middle of the street, keep your heads down, and do not be unruly. Wait while I go to the colonnade and ask the way." The Pilgrim and the others indeed stood where they were told. The elder drew near, pressed his palms together, and said: "Old benefactors, your poor monk salutes you."
The two old men, who had been idly discussing the rise and fall of things, which were the sages and which the worthies, and what had become of the heroic deeds of their day—truly a matter for great sighs—suddenly heard themselves saluted, and returned the courtesy: "What has the reverend elder to say?"
"Your poor monk has come from afar to worship the Buddha," said Sanzang. "Having just reached your honorable region, I know not what place it is. Might there be some household here given to goodness, where I could beg a vegetarian meal?"
"Our humble region is the Prefecture of Tongtai," said the old man, "and behind the prefecture there is a county called the county of Diling. If the reverend elder wants a meal, you needn't beg for alms at all. Past this memorial arch, on the north-south street, facing east, there is a gatehouse in the crouching-tiger style—that is the house of Elder Kou. In front of his gate hangs a sign reading 'Ten Thousand Monks Never Refused.' A distant monk like you can enjoy yourself to the full there. Go! Go! Go! Don't break off our conversation."
Sanzang thanked him, turned, and said to the Pilgrim: "This is the county of Diling in the Prefecture of Tongtai. Those two old men said: 'Past this memorial arch, on the north-south street, there is a gatehouse in the crouching-tiger style facing east, the house of Elder Kou, with a sign in front reading Ten Thousand Monks Never Refused.' They told me to go to his house for a meal."
"The Western Land is a land of Buddhists," said the Sha Monk. "There really are those who feed monks. Since this is a prefectural seat and a county town, there is no need to examine our travel permit. Let us go and beg a meal, and when we have eaten, we can be on our way."
The elder and his three companions walked slowly up the long street, and once more drew the townsfolk about the market into gasps of fear and whispered guesswork as they crowded round to stare at their faces. The elder ordered them to hold their tongues: "No rudeness! No rudeness!" And indeed the three kept their heads down and did not dare look up.
When they had turned the corner, they saw a great north-south street. As they walked along, they saw a gatehouse in the crouching-tiger style, and inside the gate, on the screen wall, hung a great placard bearing four characters: "Ten Thousand Monks Never Refused."
"The Western Land is a land of Buddhas," said Sanzang, "where neither the wise nor the foolish practice deceit. When those two old men told me, I still did not believe it; but having come here, it is just as they said."
Bajie, in his boorish way, made to go straight in.
"Hold on, blockhead," said the Pilgrim. "Wait until someone comes out and we have asked how things stand—only then will it be proper to go in."
"Eldest Brother speaks sense," said the Sha Monk. "I am afraid that if we go in without distinguishing inside from outside, we may give the benefactor offense."
So they tethered the horse and set down the luggage at the gate. In a moment an old servant came out carrying a steelyard and a basket. Catching sight of them, he was so startled that he dropped both and ran inside, crying: "Master! Four monks of strange appearance have come to the house!"
The elder Kou, leaning on his staff and pacing idly in the courtyard, his lips never ceasing to repeat the Buddha's name, threw down his staff at once when he heard the report and came out to welcome them. Seeing the four, he was not put off by their ugliness, but cried: "Come in, please come in." Sanzang, all courtesy and humility, went in with the rest.
Turning down an alley, with the elder Kou leading the way, they came to a hall. "The buildings on the upper side," he said, "are the Buddha hall, the scripture hall, and the refectory for entertaining you gentlemen. The lower side is where I and my family dwell."
Sanzang praised it endlessly, then took out his cassock, put it on, and worshiped the Buddha. He stepped up into the hall to look about, and saw:
Incense clouds thick and dense, candle flames blazing bright. The whole hall was heaped brocade and massed flowers; On every side gold was spread and color hung. On lacquered crimson racks hung bells of purple gold on high; On painted stands stood pairs of flowery-sheathed drums. Several pairs of banners, embroidered with the eight treasures; A thousand Buddhas, all gilt with gold. Ancient bronze incense burners; ancient bronze vases; Carved lacquer tables; carved lacquer boxes. Within the ancient bronze burners, sandalwood and aloes ever burning; Within the ancient bronze vases, lotus flowers ever blooming in color. On the carved lacquer tables, the five-colored clouds were fresh; In the carved lacquer boxes, heaps of fragrant petals lay. A crystal chalice held clear pure water; A glass lamp burned with bright sesame oil. One stroke of the golden chime, and its clear note lingered slow. Truly, a tower to rival the treasures of the world, untouched by the dust of the world; A family shrine to Buddha that outdid the great monasteries.
The elder washed his hands, took up incense, and after knocking his head in worship, turned back and bowed to Elder Kou.
"Wait a moment!" said the elder Kou. "Pray come into the scripture hall and meet there."
There they saw:
Square tables and upright cabinets, jade caskets and gold cases. On the square tables and upright cabinets were piled countless scriptures; In the jade caskets and gold cases were stored many scrolls and letters. On the lacquered tables, paper, brushes, ink, and inkstones— all the fine implements of a study, exquisite and refined. Before the pepper-red screens, books, paintings, lute, and chessboard— all the subtle and mysterious delights of art. There hung a bell of light jade and floating gold; There hung a dragon-whisker staff to screen wind and moon. The clear air refreshed the spirit; The vegetarian heart found the Way's calm of itself.
The elder was just about to bow when Elder Kou caught him by the arm: "Pray lay aside your Buddhist robe." Sanzang took off his cassock, and only then did he greet Elder Kou, who then asked to meet the three pilgrims, ordered the horse fed, and the luggage set in the corridor. Only then did he ask how they had fared.
"Your poor monk is an imperial envoy of the great Tang empire of the Eastern Land," said Sanzang, "come to your honorable region to visit Spirit Mountain and see the Buddha and seek the true scriptures. Hearing that your honored house is a patron of monks, I came to pay my respects and beg a vegetarian meal, and then I shall be on my way."
A look of joy spread over the elder's face, and he said with a smile: "Your disciple's humble name is Kou Hong, style name Dakuan, sixty-four years of age this year. From the age of forty I vowed to feed ten thousand monks, and only now has the vow come to its fulfillment. It is twenty-four years since I began, and I keep an account book of the monks I have fed. Of late, having nothing to do, I counted up the monks I have fed: already nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-six. Four only were lacking to complete the ten thousand. And today, as luck would have it, Heaven has sent down your four reverend masters, exactly completing the number of ten thousand monks! Pray let me keep your honored names, and by all means stay a month or more. When the vow is fulfilled, your disciple will send you up the mountain by sedan chair or on horseback. From here to Spirit Mountain is only eight hundred li—it is not far at all."
At these words Sanzang was delighted beyond measure, and they all accepted for the time being.
Now the serving boys, great and small, carried firewood and drew water in the house, fetched rice, flour, and vegetables, and prepared the vegetarian offerings. Their bustle startled the elder's wife, who asked: "What monks have come, that you hurry about so?"
"There are four eminent monks come," said the servant boys. "Father asked how they had fared, and they said they were sent by the emperor of the great Tang of the Eastern Land to worship the Buddha at Spirit Mountain. How far they have come to our house, there is no telling. Father says they have been sent down by Heaven, and has ordered us to prepare a feast at once and make offerings to them."
Hearing this, the old lady was pleased too, and told her maids: "Fetch my clothes—I want to put them on and go and see them too."
"Goodwife," said the servant boys, "only one of them is fit to be seen. The other three are not—their faces are hideous beyond measure."
"You don't understand," said the old lady. "If their looks are strange and outlandish, weird and striking, they must be celestial beings come down to earth. Run quickly and tell your master."
The servant boy ran to the scripture hall and said to Elder Kou: "The goodwife is coming. She wants to pay her respects to the reverend masters of the Eastern Land." Hearing this, Sanzang rose at once from his seat.
Before the words were well out, the old lady had arrived at the scripture hall. She raised her eyes and saw Tang Sanzang's imposing bearing and noble grace; then she turned her head and saw the extraordinary looks of the three pilgrims. Though she knew they were celestial beings come down to earth, she was still somewhat afraid, and knelt to bow toward them. Sanzang hastily returned the courtesy: "We are beholden to the Bodhisattva for her courtesy."
The old lady asked Elder Kou: "The four masters—why do they not all sit together?"
Pursing his lips, Bajie said: "We three are disciples." Alack! His voice was like the roar of a tiger in the deep mountains, and the good lady was more frightened still.
Just as she was speaking, another servant boy came in to report: "Your two nephews have come too." Sanzang hastily turned to look, and saw two young scholars. The scholars came up into the scripture hall and prostrated themselves before the elder, so startling Sanzang that he hurriedly returned the bow. Elder Kou came forward and held them back: "These are my two sons, called Kou Liang and Kou Dong. They were reading in the study and have just come home for their midday meal. Hearing that the reverend master had arrived, they came to pay their respects."
Sanzang was delighted: "Excellent! Excellent! Truly, to raise the standing of a household one must do good, and to have fine sons and grandsons one must study."
The two scholars addressed their father: "Where does this reverend gentleman come from?"
Elder Kou laughed: "From a far place indeed—from the great Tang empire of the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa in the Eastern Land, sent by the emperor to worship the Buddha and fetch scriptures at Spirit Mountain."
"In the Forest of Events," said the scholars, "I have read that there are only four great continents under Heaven. This region of ours is called the Western Continent of Cattle-Gift, and there is also the Eastern Continent of Superior Body. One wonders how many ages it must have taken to travel from the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa to here."
Sanzang laughed: "Your poor monk spent more days in delay on the road than days in traveling. We were constantly beset by venomous demons and fierce monsters, in hardships beyond counting. Very much thanks to the protection of my three disciples, a full fourteen cycles of cold and heat have passed before I reached your honorable region."
At these words the scholars praised him without end: "Divine monks indeed! Divine monks indeed!" Before they had finished, another young servant came to invite them: "The vegetarian banquet is laid. Pray come in and eat."
Elder Kou sent his wife and sons back to their own quarters, and himself accompanied the four pilgrims into the refectory. The spread there was neatly set out, and one could see:
Gold-lacquered tables and black-lacquered chairs. In front, five colored dishes of piled fruits, freshly fashioned in the latest style by skilled hands. A second row of five plates of pickled vegetables; A third row of five dishes of fruit; A fourth row of five great plates of snacks. Every one sweet, every one fragrant. Vegetable soup and rice, steamed rolls and buns, hot and steaming, all mouth-watering and truly filling. Seven or eight serving boys hurried back and forth; Four or five cooks never rested their hands.
Just look at them: one ladles the soup, another adds rice, back and forth like shooting stars chasing the moon. And Bajie, a bowl at each gulp, swept through it all like a whirlwind scattering clouds. Master and disciples enjoyed the meal to the full. When they had finished, the elder rose and thanked Elder Kou for the meal, and was about to take the road.
But Elder Kou barred his way: "Reverend master, rest here for a few days at ease. As the saying goes, beginning is easy, ending is hard. Only after I have made my vow complete will I dare see you off on your journey."
Sanzang, seeing the sincerity and earnestness of his heart, had no choice but to stay.
Some five or seven days had passed when Elder Kou invited the twenty-four monks who served the local Buddhist services to perform the rites of fulfilling the vow. Those monks took three or four days over their writings and ceremonies, and then, having chosen an auspicious hour, opened the Buddhist rites. In much the same fashion as the customs of the great Tang, they did indeed:
Raise banners on high, spread out the golden images; Hold candles in rank, burn incense in offering. Beat the drums and clash the cymbals. Blow the sheng and finger the pipes. Cloud-gongs and transverse flutes, their notes clear, All in proper scale and key.
They struck up one tune and blew another, opening the scriptures with clear, unison voices. First they settled the earth gods, then they invited the generals of the unseen. They dispatched their written documents and worshiped the images of Buddha. They recited the Peacock Sutra, and every line dissolved calamity and obstruction; they lit the Medicine Buddha's lamp, and flame after flame blazed bright. They performed the Water Penance, to undo wrongs and grudges; they chanted the Flower Garland, to clear away slander.
The sublime law of the three vehicles was practiced with great devotion, And all the monks, one and all, took part alike.
In this manner three days and nights were passed, and the rites of the vow's fulfillment were complete. Tang Sanzang, thinking of the Thunderclap, was set on going, and took his leave again. "You are leaving in such haste, reverend master," said Elder Kou. "I suppose the bustle of these days of Buddhist rites, with so much neglect on our part, has given you cause for offense?"
"Your honored house has done us a deep kindness," said Sanzang, "and I know not how to repay it—how should I dare speak of offense! But when the holy emperor saw me out of the pass, he asked when I would return, and I answered, in my rashness, that I should be back in three years. Who would have thought the road would delay me so—it is already fourteen years! Whether the scriptures are to be had or not, I know not; and if I am to return, it will take twelve or thirteen years more. Would that not be to disobey the imperial decree? What crime could atone for it? I beg the old benefactor to let your poor monk go. When I have fetched the scriptures, I shall come back to your house and stay a long time—would that not do?"
Bajie could no longer hold back and called out loudly: "Master is altogether too contrary and inhuman! The old benefactor is a great and wealthy man who vowed to feed monks, and now the vow is complete; and since he keeps us with such sincerity, we might well stay a year or so—what harm could it do? Why must you be forever going? Here you have this fine ready-made feast spread before you and won't eat it, but would rather go begging at other people's doors! Is there some grandpa or grandma of yours waiting up ahead?"
The elder gave a scolding shout: "You dolt! All you know is eating, and you don't care at all about the causes and rewards of merit. You're just a beast that eats at the trough and scratches its belly in the stable! Since you are all so greedy and so foolish, tomorrow I shall go on by myself!"
Seeing the master's face change, the Pilgrim seized Bajie and beat him over the head with his fists, cursing: "Blockhead, you know nothing of what's good for you! You've made the master angry with all of us!"
"Hit him well, hit him well!" laughed the Sha Monk. "Even when he keeps quiet he's a nuisance, and here he must put his oar in again!"
The blockhead, puffed with anger, stood to one side and dared not speak again.
Seeing master and disciples at odds, Elder Kou could only put on a smile and say: "Reverend master, do not fret. Bear with us a little today. Tomorrow I shall prepare banners and drums, and invite the neighbors and kinsfolk, and see you off on your journey."
While they were speaking, the old lady came out again: "Reverend master, since you have been so kind as to come to our house, you need not plead so hard to leave. How many days is it now since you came?"
"It is already half a month," said Sanzang.
"Those half month count toward my husband's merit," said the old lady. "But I too have saved a little of my needlework money, and I am willing to feed the reverend masters for another half month."
Before she had done speaking, Kou Dong and his brother came out again: "Four reverend masters, our father has fed monks for more than twenty years and never met good men among them. Now, in the happy fulfillment of his vow, you four have come down among us—truly a thatched cottage given luster. We are young and know nothing of cause and effect, but we have heard it said: what the husband cultivates, the husband reaps; what the wife cultivates, the wife reaps; and what one does not cultivate, one does not reap. When my father and mother each wish to offer their humble gifts, they are each seeking their own share of merit—why must you refuse so hard? Even we brothers have saved a little from our school fees, and we only hope to support the reverend masters for half a month before seeing you off."
"Your honorable mother the old Bodhisattva showed us such favor that I dared not accept it," said Sanzang; "and now to be so loved by you worthy brothers as well? I truly dare not accept. Today I must by all means set out. Do not take offense, I beg you—for otherwise, overstaying the imperial limit, I should be guilty of a crime no death could atone for."
When the old lady and her two sons saw that he was obstinately set on going, they grew angry: "We kept him with the best of intentions, and he is so stubborn he must go! Well, if he must go, let him go! Why all this droning on!" And mother and sons withdrew.
Bajie could not keep his mouth shut, and said to Tang Sanzang: "Master, don't carry it too far. As the saying goes: stay, and you'll be blamed for staying. Let us stay a month and fulfill the wishes of mother and sons. Why must you be in such a rush?"
The elder gave another scolding shout, and the blockhead slapped his own mouth twice: "Pah! Pah! Pah! Keep quiet! There you go making a noise again!" The Pilgrim and the Sha Monk giggled aside. Tang Sanzang, in turn, blamed the Pilgrim: "What are you laughing at?" And he made the magic sign, meaning to recite the Band-Tightening Spell. In a fluster the Pilgrim knelt: "Master, I wasn't laughing! I wasn't laughing! Whatever you do, don't recite it! Don't recite it!"
When Elder Kou saw master and disciples growing more and more annoyed, he no longer dared press them, and only said: "Reverend master, no more quarreling. We shall see you off early tomorrow morning." With that he left the scripture hall and ordered his clerks to write out a hundred or so invitation cards, inviting the neighbors and kinsfolk to come the next morning and see the reverend masters of Tang off on their way west. On the one hand he ordered the cooks to prepare the farewell banquet; on the other he ordered the stewards to make twenty pairs of colored banners, hire a company of musicians and trumpeters, invite a company of monks from the monastery of Nanlai, and a company of Daoists from the Dongyue Abbey, all to be in readiness by the hour of the Snake the next day. All the officers in charge received their orders and went off. Before long it was evening again. They ate the evening vegetarian meal and each retired to rest. It was truly:
A few homing crows pass over the neighboring village; From the towers the drums and bells are heard afar. The six streets and three markets are still, with no smoke of men; In a thousand gates and ten thousand doors the lamps are dim. The moon is bright, the wind clear, and flowers play with shadows; The Silver River is faint, mirrored in the stars. Where the cuckoo cries, the night deepens; No sound of nature stirs; the great earth is at peace.
At about the third and fourth watches, all the serving boys in charge of the various tasks rose early and hurried to buy the various articles. Just look at them: the cooks in the kitchen in a flurry, the makers of colored banners noisy in the hall, the inviters of monks and Daoists running on both feet, the summoners of musicians shouting with urgency, the deliverers of invitation cards dashing east and west, the preparers of sedan chairs and horses calling out above and answering below. The whole half-night rang with bustle until daybreak, and by the hour of the Snake and before, everything was done—nothing more than a matter of money, after all.
Now Tang Sanzang and his disciples rose early, with that whole company in attendance. The elder ordered the luggage made ready and the horse saddled. When the blockhead heard they were leaving, he pouted his lips and grumbled to himself, but he could only pack up his cassock and bowl and lift his tall carrying pole onto his shoulder. The Sha Monk brushed the horse, put on its saddle and bridle, and waited. The Pilgrim put the nine-ring staff into his master's hand, hung the passport and the little ritual bell about his own chest, and they were all ready to go.
Elder Kou again invited them all to the great hall behind the house, where a banquet was laid out, quite different from the fare in the refectory. One could see:
Curtains hung high, screens set all around. In the center hung a painting of the Longevity Mountain and the Sea of Happiness; On the two walls hung four scrolls of the scenes of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. From the dragon-patterned incense tripod, fragrant smoke curled; In the magpie-tail censer, auspicious vapor arose. The offering trays were heaped with color, every ornamented dish fresh and bright; The tables were piled with gold, rows of lion-and-immortal sugar figures set in order. Before the steps, drums and dances followed the scale; Within the hall, fruit and dainties spread like brocade. The vegetarian soups and rice were fine and rare; The fragrant wine and tea were exquisite. Though it was the house of common folk, it was no whit inferior to a prince's mansion. One heard only a roar of glad voices, truly enough to move heaven and earth.
The elder was just making his bows to Elder Kou when a servant boy came in to report: "The guests have all arrived." They were the invited left and right neighbors, the wife's younger brother and the elder sister's husband, the sister's husband and the younger sister's husband, together with the fellow patrons of monks and the good friends who chanted the Buddha's name. They all came forward to bow to the elder. When the bows were done, each took his seat, and below the hall the lutes were plucked and the sheng blown, while in the hall the strings and songs accompanied the wine. At this grand feast Bajie whispered to the Sha Monk:
"Brother, throw caution to the winds and eat your fill. Once we leave the Kou house, there'll be no more spreads like this!"
"Second Brother, what are you saying?" laughed the Sha Monk. "As the saying goes: of a hundred delicacies, one full meal and that's an end. There's such a thing as a private road, but no such thing as a private belly!"
"You're too feeble! Too feeble!" said Bajie. "When I've eaten my fill this one meal, I won't be hungry even in three days."
The Pilgrim heard him: "Blockhead, don't burst your belly! We have to walk today!"
Before the words were well out, the sun was at noon. The elder, sitting at the head, raised his chopsticks and recited the meal grace. Bajie, in a fluster, snatched up the rice and ate bowl after bowl, gobbling down five or six more, and stuffed his two sleeves full, without choosing good or bad, of the buns, rolls, cakes, and pastries—and only then did he follow his master to his feet. The elder thanked Elder Kou, and then thanked everyone, and together they went out the gate. And there outside, just see, were set out colored banners and jeweled canopies, drummers and musicians.
The two companies of monks and Daoists were just arriving. Elder Kou laughed: "Gentlemen are late! The master is leaving in haste, and there's no time to serve you a meal. When he returns, he shall thank you in person."
Then everyone made way, and those who were to carry sedan chairs took up their chairs, those who were to ride mounted their horses, and those who were to walk set off on foot, all yielding the leading place to the elder and his four pilgrims. One heard only drums and music resounding to the heavens, banners and streamers darkening the sun, crowds of people massing, carriages and horses jammed together—all come to watch Elder Kou see off the monk of Tang. This show of magnificence truly surpassed the girdle of pearls and ring of jade, and was no whit less than brocade curtains hiding the spring!
That company of monks played a set of Buddhist airs, and that company of Daoists blew a strain of mystic tones, and together they saw the party out beyond the walls of the prefectural city. When they reached the Pavilion of Ten Li, baskets of food and jars of wine had been set out, and cups were raised and drained as they took their leave. Elder Kou still could not bear the parting, and with tears in his eyes he said: "Reverend master, when you have fetched the scriptures and return, you must by all means come to our house and stay a few days, to fulfill the wish of this Kou Hong."
Sanzang was moved beyond measure and thanked him again and again: "If I reach Spirit Mountain and see the Buddha, I shall first of all make known the great virtue of the elder. On my return I shall certainly come to your door and knock my head in thanks! In thanks!" As they talked, they had walked another two or three li without noticing, and now the elder took his leave with earnest bows, and Elder Kou turned back, weeping aloud. This is truly:
He who vowed to feed monks returns to wondrous enlightenment; Without the bond of fate, one may not see the Buddha Tathagata.
But no more of Elder Kou's being seen off at the Pavilion of Ten Li and going home with the crowd. Now his four pilgrims, master and disciples, traveled forty or fifty li, until the day was drawing to a close.
"It's growing late," said the elder. "Where shall we ask for lodging?"
Bajie, shouldering the load, pouted: "There was ready-made tea and food left uneaten, cool tiled rooms left unoccupied, and you had to go walking—just like a man chasing after a funeral! Now it's late, and if rain should fall, what then?"
"Wicked beast!" scolded Sanzang. "Here you are complaining again! As the saying goes: though Chang'an is fine, it is no place for a long lingering. When we have had the fortune to worship the Buddha and fetch the true scriptures, and then return to the great Tang and report to the emperor, I shall have the imperial kitchens' food set before you to eat for years on end, until you burst, you wicked beast, and make a ghost of you stuffed full!"
The blockhead sniggered to himself and dared not say another word. The Pilgrim raised his eyes and looked into the distance, and saw a few buildings beside the great road. He hurriedly invited his master: "We can rest there! We can rest there!"
The elder went up to it and saw a collapsed memorial arch, with an old placard on it. On the placard, in colors faded and dust-covered, were four great characters: "The Shrine of Huaguang."
The elder dismounted: "The Bodhisattva Huaguang was a disciple of the Buddha of Fivefold Flaming Light. Because he exterminated the Ghost King of Poison Fire, he was demoted and turned into the Numinous Officer of Five Manifestations. There must be a shrine keeper here."
And so they all went in, but found the corridors and halls collapsed and the walls tumbled down, without a trace of any human being—nothing but tangled thickets of weeds. They were about to turn and leave when, as luck would have it, black clouds spread over the sky and a drenching rain poured down. With no help for it, they sheltered beneath the ruined house where it kept off the wind and rain, sitting or standing in absolute stillness, not daring to speak above a whisper for fear a demon should hear them. And so they endured miserably through the night without sleeping. Alack! Truly:
When fortune reaches its utmost, adversity is born again; In the very midst of joy, grief comes to meet one.
If you do not know how they fared when the day broke and they pressed on, listen to the explanation in the next chapter.