CHAPTER 27 

The Corpse Fiend Thrice Tricks Tang Sanzang; The Holy Monk Angrily Dismisses the Handsome Monkey King

At dawn the next day Sanzang and his three disciples packed their things before setting off. Now that Master Zhen Yuan had made Xingzhe his sworn brother and was finding him so congenial, he did not want to let him go, so he entertained him for another five or six days. Sanzang had really become a new man, and was livelier and healthier now that he had eaten the Grass-returning Cinnabar. His determination to fetch the scriptures was too strong to let him waste any more time, so there was nothing for it but to be on their way.

Soon after they had set out again, master and disciples saw a high mountain in front of them. “I’m afraid that the mountain ahead may be too steep for the horse,” Sanzang said, “so we must think this over carefully.”

“Don’t worry, Master,” said Wukong, “we know how to cope.” He went ahead of the horse with his cudgel over his shoulder and cleared a path up to the top of the cliff. He saw no end of

Row upon row of craggy peaks,

Twisting beds of torrents.

Tigers and wolves were running in packs,

Deer and muntjac moving in herds.

Countless river-deer darted around.

And the mountains was covered with fox and hare.

Thousand-food pythons,

Ten-thousand-fathom snakes;

The great pythons puffed out murky clouds,

The enormous snakes breathed monstrous winds.

Brambles and thorns spread beside the paths,

Pines and cedars stood elegant on the ridge.

There were wild fig-trees wherever the eye could see,

And sweet-scented flowers as far as the horizon.

The mountain’s shadow fell north of the ocean,

The clouds parted south of the handle of the Dipper.

The towering cliffs were as ancient as the primal Essence,

The majestic crags cold in the sunlight.

Sanzang was immediately terrified, so Wukong resorted to some of his tricks. He whirled his iron cudgel and roared, at which all the wolves, snakes, tigers and leopards fled. They then started up the mountain, and as they were crossing a high ridge Sanzang said to Wukong, “I’ve been hungry all day. Would you please go and beg some food for us somewhere?”

“You aren’t very bright, Master,” Wukong replied with a grin. “We’re on a mountain with no village or inn for many miles around. Even if we had money there would be nowhere to buy food, so where am I to go and beg for it?” Sanzang felt cross, so he laid into Wukong. “You ape,” he said, “don’t you remember how you were crushed by the Buddha in a stone cell under the Double Boundary Mountain, where you could talk but not walk? It was I who saved your life, administered the monastic vows to you, and made you my disciple. How dare you be such a slacker? Why aren’t you prepared to make an effort?”

“I always make an effort,” said Wukong. “I’m never lazy.”

“If you’re such a hard worker, go and beg some food for us. I can’t manage on an empty stomach. Besides, with the noxious vapors on this mountain we’ll never reach the Thunder Monastery,”

“Please don’t be angry, Master, and stop talking. I know your obstinate character—if I’m too disobedient you’ll say that spell. You’d better dismount and sit here while I find somebody and beg for some food.”

Wukong leapt up into the clouds with a single jump, and shading his eyes with his hand he looked around. Unfortunately he could see nothing in any direction except emptiness. There was no village or house or any other sign of human habitation among the countless trees. After looking for a long time he made out a high mountain away to the south. On its southern slopes was a bright red patch.

Wukong brought his cloud down and said, “Master, there’s something to eat.” Sanzang asked him what it was. “There’s no house around here where we could ask for food,” Wukong replied, “but there’s a patch of red on a mountain to the south that I’m sure must be ripe wild peaches. I’ll go and pick some—they’ll fill you up.”

“A monk who has peaches to eat is a lucky man,” said Sanzang. Wukong picked up his bowl and leapt off on a beam of light. Just watch as he flashes off in a somersault, a whistling gust of cold air. Within a moment he was picking peaches on the southern mountain.

There is a saying that goes, “If the mountain is high it’s bound to have fiends; if the ridge is steep spirits will live there.” This mountain did indeed have an evil spirit who was startled by Wukong’s appearance. It strode through the clouds on a negative wind, and on seeing the venerable Sanzang on the ground below thought happily, “What luck, what luck. At home they’ve been talking for years about a Tang monk from the East who’s going to fetch the ‘Great Vehicle’; he’s a reincarnation of Golden Cicada, and has an Original Body that has been purified through ten lives. Anyone who eats a piece of his flesh will live forever. And today, at last, he’s here.” The evil spirit went forward to seize him, but the sight of the two great generals to Sanzang’s left and right made it frightened to close in on him. Who, it wondered, were they? They were in fact Bajie and Friar Sand, and for all that their powers were nothing extraordinary, Bajie was really Marshal Tian Peng while Friar Sand was the Great Curtain-raising General. It was because their former awe-inspiring qualities had not yet been dissipated that the fiend did not close in. “I’ll try a trick on them and see what happens,” the spirit said to itself.

The splendid evil spirit stopped its negative wind in a hollow and changed itself into a girl with a face as round as the moon and as pretty as a flower. Her brow was clear and her eyes beautiful; her teeth were white and her lips red. In her left hand she held a blue earthenware pot and in her right a green porcelain jar. She headed east towards the Tang Priest.

The holy monk rested his horse on the mountain,

And suddenly noticed a pretty girl approaching.

The green sleeves over her jade fingers lightly billowed;

Golden lotus feet peeped under her trailing skirt.

The beads of sweat on her powdered face were dew on a flower,

Her dusty brow was a willow in a mist.

Carefully and closely he watched her

As she came right up to him.

“Wuneng, Wujing,” said Sanzang when he saw her, “don’t you see somebody coming although Wukong said that this was a desolate and uninhabited place?”

“You and Friar Sand stay sitting here while I go and take a look.” The blockhead laid down his rake, straightened his tunic, put on the airs of a gentleman, and stared at the girl as he greeted her. Although he had not been sure from a distance, he could now see clearly that the girl had

Bones of jade under skin as pure as ice,

A creamy bosom revealed by her neckline.

Her willow eyebrows were black and glossy,

And silver stars shone from her almond eyes.

She was as graceful as the moon,

As pure as the heavens.

Her body was like a swallow in a willow-tree,

Her voice like an oriole singing in the wood.

She was wild apple-blossom enmeshing the sun,

An opening peony full of the spring.

When the idiot Bajie saw how beautiful she was his earthly desires were aroused, and he could not hold back the reckless words that came to his lips. “Where are you going, bodhisattva,” he said, “and what’s that you’re holding?” Although she was obviously an evil fiend he could not realize it.

“Venerable sir,” the girl replied at once, “this blue pot is full of tasty rice, and the green jar contains fried wheat-balls. I’ve come here specially to fulfil a vow to feed monks.”

Bajie was thoroughly delighted to hear this. He came tumbling back at breakneck speed and said to Sanzang, “Master, ‘Heaven rewards the good.’ When you sent my elder brother off begging because you felt hungry, that ape went fooling around somewhere picking peaches. Besides, too many peaches turn your stomach and give you the runs. Don’t you see that this girl is coming to feed us monks?”

“You stupid idiot,” replied Sanzang, who was not convinced, “we haven’t met a single decent person in this direction, so where could anyone come from to feed monks?”

“What’s she then, Master?” said Bajie.

When Sanzang saw her he sprang to his feet, put his hands together in front of his chest, and said, “Bodhisattva, where is your home? Who are you? What vow brings you here to feed monks?” Although she was obviously an evil spirit, the venerable Sanzang could not see it either. On being asked about her background by Sanzang, the evil spirit immediately produced a fine-sounding story with which to fool him.

“This mountain, which snakes and wild animals won’t go near, is called White Tiger Ridge,” she said. “Our home lies due west from here at the foot of it. My mother and father live there, and they are devout people who read the scriptures and feed monks from far and near. As they had no son, they asked Heaven to bless them. When I was born they wanted to marry me off to a good family, but then they decided to find me a husband who would live in our home to look after them in their old age and see them properly buried.”

“Bodhisattva, what you say can’t be right,” replied Sanzang. “The Analects say, ‘When father and mother are alive, do not go on long journeys; if you have to go out, have a definite aim.’ As your parents are at home and have found you a husband, you should let him fulfil your vow for you. Why ever are you walking in the mountains all by yourself, without even a servant? This is no way for a lady to behave.”

The girl smiled and produced a smooth reply at once: “My husband is hoeing with some of our retainers in a hollow in the north of the mountain, reverend sir, and I am taking them this food I’ve cooked. As it’s July and all the crops are ripening nobody can be spared to run errands, and my parents are old, so I’m taking it there myself. Now that I have met you three monks from so far away, I would like to give you this food as my parents are so pious. I hope you won’t refuse our paltry offering.”

“It’s very good of you,” said Sanzang, “but one of my disciples has gone to pick some fruit and will be back soon, so we couldn’t eat any of your food. Besides, if we ate your food your husband might be angry with you when he found out, and we would get into trouble too.”

As the Tang Priest was refusing to eat the food, the girl put on her most charming expression and said, “My parents’ charity to monks is nothing compared to my husband’s, Teacher. He is a religious man whose lifelong pleasure has been repairing bridges, mending roads, looking after the aged, and helping the poor. When he hears that I have given you this food, he’ll love me more warmly than ever.” Sanzang still declined to eat it.

Bajie was beside himself. Twisting his lips into a pout, he muttered indignantly, “Of all the monks on earth there can’t be another as soft in the head as our master. He won’t eat ready-cooked food when there are only three of us to share it between. He’s waiting for that ape to come back, and then we’ll have to split it four ways.” Without allowing any more discussion he tipped the pot towards his mouth and was just about to eat.

At just this moment Pilgrim Sun was somersaulting back with his bowl full of the peaches he had picked on the southern mountain. When he saw with the golden pupils in his fiery eyes that the girl was an evil spirit, he put the bowl down, lifted his cudgel, and was going to hit her on the head when the horrified Sanzang held him back and said, “Who do you think you’re going to hit?”

“That girl in front of you is no good,” he replied. “She’s an evil spirit trying to make a fool of you.”

“In the old days you had a very sharp eye, you ape,” Sanzang said, “but this is nonsense. This veritable Bodhisattva is feeding us with the best of motives, so how can you call her an evil spirit?”

“You wouldn’t be able to tell, Master,” said Wukong with a grin. “When I was an evil monster in the Water Curtain Cave I used to do that if I wanted a meal of human flesh. I would turn myself into gold and silver, or a country mansion, or liquor, or a pretty girl. Whoever was fool enough to be besotted with one of these would fall in love with me, and I would lure them into the cave, where I did what I wanted with them. Sometimes I ate them steamed and sometimes boiled, and what I couldn’t finish I used to dry in the sun against a rainy day. If I’d been slower getting here, Master, you’d have fallen into her snare and she’d have finished you off.” The Tang Priest refused to believe him and maintained that she was a good person.

“I know you, Master,” said Wukong. “Her pretty face must have made you feel randy. If that’s the way you feel, tell Bajie to fell a few trees and send Friar Sand look off to for some grass. I’ll be the carpenter, and we’ll build you a hut here that you and the girl can use as your bridal chamber. We can all go our own ways. Wouldn’t marriage be a worthwhile way of living? Why bother plodding on to fetch some scriptures or other?” Sanzang, who had always been such a soft and virtuous man, was unable to take this. He was so embarrassed that he blushed from his shaven pate to his ears.

While Sanzang was feeling so embarrassed, Wukong flared up again and struck at the evil spirit’s face. The fiend, who knew a trick or two, used a magic way of abandoning its body: when it saw Wukong’s cudgel coming it braced itself and fled, leaving a false corpse lying dead on the ground.

Sanzang shook with terror and said to himself, “That monkey is utterly outrageous. Despite all my good advice he will kill people for no reason at all.”

“Don’t be angry, Master,” said Wukong. “Come and see what’s in her pot.” Friar Sand helped Sanzang over to look, and he saw that far from containing tasty rice it was full of centipedes with long tails. The jar had held not wheat-balls but frogs and toads, which were now jumping around on the ground. Sanzang was now beginning to believe Wukong.

This was not enough, however, to prevent a furious Bajie from deliberately making trouble by saying, “Master, that girl was a local countrywoman who happened to meet us while she was taking some food to the fields. There’s no reason to think that she was an evil spirit. My elder brother was trying his club out on her, and he killed her by mistake. He’s deliberately trying to trick us by magicking the food into those things because he’s afraid you’ll recite the Band-tightening Spell. He’s fooled you into not saying it.”

This brought the blindness back on Sanzang, who believed these trouble-making remarks and made the magic with his hand as he recited the spell. “My head’s aching, my head’s aching,” Wukong said. “Stop, please stop. Tell me off if you like.”

“I’ve nothing to say to you,” replied Sanzang. “A man of religion should always help others, and his thoughts should always be virtuous. When sweeping the floor you must be careful not to kill any ants, and to spare the moth you should put gauze round your lamp. Why do you keep murdering people? If you are going to kill innocent people like that there is no point in your going to fetch the scriptures. Go back!”

“Where am I to go back to?” Wukong asked.

“I won’t have you as my disciple any longer,” said Sanzang.

“If you won’t have me as your disciple,” Wukong said, “I’m afraid you may never reach the Western Heaven.”

“My destiny is in Heaven’s hands,” replied Sanzang. “If some evil spirit is fated to cook me, he will; and there’s no way of getting out of it. But if I’m not to be eaten, will you be able to extend my life? Be off with you at once.”

“I’ll go if I must,” said Wukong, “but I’ll never have repaid your kindness to me.”

“What kindness have I ever done you?” Sanzang asked.

Wukong knelt down and kowtowed. “When I wrecked the Heavenly Palace,” he said, “I put myself in a very dangerous position, and the Buddha crashed me under the Double Boundary Mountain. Luckily the Bodhisattva Guanyin administered the vows to me, and you, Master, released me, so if I don’t go with you to the Western Heaven I’ll look like a ‘scoundrel who doesn’t return a kindness, with a name that will be cursed forever.’ ”

As Sanzang was a compassionate and holy monk this desperate plea from Wukong persuaded him to relent. “In view of what you say I’ll let you off this time, but don’t behave so disgracefully again. If you are ever as wicked as that again I shall recite that spell twenty times over.”

“Make it thirty if you like,” replied Wukong. “I shan’t hit anyone else.” With that he helped Sanzang mount the horse and offered him some of the peaches he had picked. After eating a few the Tang Priest felt less hungry for the time being.

The evil spirit rose up into the air when it had saved itself from being killed by Wukong’s cudgel. Gnashing its teeth in the clouds, it thought of Wukong with silent hatred: “Now I know that those magical powers of his that I’ve been hearing about for years are real. The Tang Priest didn’t realize who I was and would have eaten the food. If he’d so much as leant forward to smell it I could have seized him, and he would have been mine. But that ape turned up, wrecked my plan, and almost killed me with his club. If I spare that monk now I’ll have gone to all that trouble for nothing, so I’ll have another go at tricking him.”

The splendid evil spirit landed its negative cloud, shook itself, and changed into an old woman in her eighties who was weeping as she hobbled along leaning on a bamboo stick with a crooked handle.

“This is terrible, Master,” exclaimed Bajie with horror at the sight of her. “Her mother’s come to look for her.”

“For whom?” asked the Tang Priest.

“It must be her daughter that my elder brother killed,” said Bajie. “This must be the girl’s mother looking for her.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Wukong. “That girl was eighteen and this old woman is eighty. How could she possibly have had a child when she was over sixty? She must be a fake. Let me go and take a look.” The splendid monkey hurried over to examine her and saw that the monster had

Turned into an old woman

With temples as white as frozen snow.

Slowly she stumbled along the road,

Making her way in fear and trembling.

Her body was weak and emaciated,

Her face like a withered leaf of cabbage.

Her cheekbone was twisted upwards,

While the ends of her lips went down.

How can old age compare with youth?

Her face was as creased as a pleated bag.

Realizing that she was an evil spirit, Wukong did not wait to argue about it, but raised his cudgel and struck at her head. Seeing the blow coining, the spirit braced itself again and extracted its true essence once more. The false corpse sprawled dead beside the path. Sanzang was so horrified that he fell off the horse and lay beside the path, reciting the Band-tightening Spell twenty times over. Poor Wukong’s head was squeezed so hard that it looked like a narrow-waisted gourd. The pain was unbearable, and he rolled over towards his master to plead, “Stop, Master. Say whatever you like.”

“I have nothing to say,” Sanzang replied. “If a monk does good he will not fall into hell. Despite all my preaching you still commit murder. How can you? No sooner have you killed one person than you kill another. It’s an outrage.”

“She was an evil spirit,” Wukong replied.

“Nonsense, you ape,” said the Tang Priest, “as if there could be so many monsters! You haven’t the least intention of reforming, and you are a deliberate murderer. Be off with you.”

“Are you sending me away again, Master?” Wukong asked. “I’ll go if I must, but there’s one thing I won’t agree to.”

“What,” Sanzang asked, “would that be?”

“Master,” Bajie put in, “he wants the baggage divided between you and him. He’s been a monk with you for several years, and hasn’t succeeded in winning a good reward. You can’t let him go away empty-handed. Better give him a worn-out tunic and a tattered hat from the bundle.”

This made Wukong jump with fury. “I’ll get you, you long-snouted moron,” he said. “I’ve been a true Buddhist with no trace of covetousness or greed. I certainly don’t want a share of the baggage.”

“If you’re neither covetous nor greedy,” said Sanzang, “why won’t you go away?”

“To be quite honest with you, Master,” he replied, “when I lived in the Water Curtain Cave on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit and knew all the great heroes, I won the submission of seventy-two other demon kings and had forty-seven thousand minor demons under me. I used to wear a crown of purple-gold and a yellow robe with a belt of the finest jade. I had cloud-treading shoes on my feet and held an As-You-Will gold-banded cudgel in my hands. I really was somebody then. But when I attained enlightenment and repented, I shaved my head and took to the Buddhist faith as your disciple. I couldn’t face my old friends if I went back with this golden band round my head. So if you don’t want me any longer, Master, please say the Band-loosening Spell and I’ll take it off and give it back to you. I’ll gladly agree to you putting it round someone else’s head. As I’ve been your disciple for so long, surely you can show me this kindness.”

Sanzang was deeply shocked. “Wukong,” he said, “the Bodhisattva secretly taught me the Band-tightening Spell, but not a band-loosening one.”

“In that case you’ll have to let me come with you,” Wukong replied.

“Get up then,” said Sanzang, feeling that he had no option, “I’ll let you off again just this once. But you must never commit another murder.”

“I never will,” said Wukong, “never again.” He helped his master mount the horse and led the way forward.

The evil spirit, who had not been killed the second time Wukong hit it either, was full of admiration as it floated in mid-air. “What a splendid Monkey King,” it thought, “and what sharp eyes. He saw who I was through both my transformations. Those monks are travelling fast, and once they’re over the mountain and fifteen miles to the west they’ll be out of my territory. And other fiends and monsters who catch them will be laughing till their mouths split, and I’ll be heartbroken with sorrow. I’ll have to have another go at tricking them.” The excellent evil spirit brought its negative wind down to the mountainside and with one shake turned itself into an old man.

His hair was as white as Ancient Peng’s,

His temples as hoary as the Star of Longevity.

Jade rang in his ears,

And his eyes swam with golden stars.

He leant on a dragon-headed stick,

And wore a cloak of crane feathers.

In his hands he fingered prayer-beads

While reciting Buddhist sutras.

When Sanzang saw him from the back of his horse he said with great delight, “Amitabha Buddha! The West is indeed a blessed land. That old man is forcing himself to recite scriptures although he can hardly walk.”

“Master,” said Bajie, “don’t be so nice about him. He’s going to give us trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Sanzang asked.

“My elder brother has killed the daughter and the old woman, and this is the old man coming to look for them. If we fall into his hands you’ll have to pay with your life. It’ll be the death penalty for you, and I’ll get a long sentence for being your accomplice. Friar Sand will be exiled for giving the orders. Brother Sun will disappear by magic, and we three will have to carry the can.”

“Don’t talk such nonsense, you moron,” said Wukong. “You’re terrifying the master. Wait while I go and have another look.” Hiding the cudgel about his person he went up to the monster and said, “Where are you going, venerable sir? And why are you reciting scriptures as you walk along?”

The monster, failing to recognize his opponent, thought that the Great Sage Sun was merely a passer-by and said, “Holy sir, my family has lived here for generations, and all my life I have done good deeds, fed monks, read the scriptures, and repeated the Buddha’s name. As fate has it I have no son, only a daughter, and she lives at home with her husband. She went off to the fields with food early this morning, and I’m afraid she may have been eaten by a tiger. My wife went out to look for her, and she hasn’t come back either. I’ve no idea what’s happened to them, so I’ve come to search for them. If they have died, I shall just have to gather their bones and take them back for a decent burial.”

“I’m a master of disguise,” replied Wukong with a grin, “so don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. You can’t fool me. I know that you’re an evil spirit.” The monster was speechless with fright. Wukong brandished his cudgel and thought, “If I don’t kill him he’ll make a getaway; but if I do, my master will say that spell.”

“Yet if I don’t kill him,” he went on to reflect, “I’ll take a lot of thought and effort to rescue the master when this monster seizes some other chance to carry him off. The best thing is to kill him. If I kill him with the cudgel the master will say the spell, but then ‘even a vicious tiger doesn’t eat her own cubs.’ I’ll be able to get round my master with my smooth tongue and some well chosen words.” The splendid Great Sage uttered a spell and called out to the local deities and the gods of the mountains, “This evil spirit has tried to trick my master three times, and I’m now going to kill it. I want you to be witnesses in the air around me. Don’t leave!” Hearing this command, the gods all had to obey and watch from the clouds. The Great Sage raised his cudgel and struck down the monster. Now, at last, it was dead.

The Tang Priest was shaking with terror on the back of his horse, unable to speak.

Bajie stood beside him and said with a laugh, “That ape’s marvellous, isn’t he! He’s gone mad. He’s killed three people in a few hours’ journey.”

The Tang Priest was just going to say the spell when Wukong threw himself in front of his horse and called out, “Don’t say it, Master, don’t say it. Come and have a look at it.” It was now just a pile of dusty bones.

“He’s only just been killed, Wukong,” Sanzang said in astonishment, “so why has he turned into a skeleton?”

“It was a demon corpse with magic powers that used to deceive people and destroy them. Now that I’ve killed it, it’s reverted to its original form. The writing on her backbone says that she’s called ‘Lady White Bone.’ ” Sanzang was convinced, but Bajie had to make trouble again.

“Master,” he said, “he’s afraid that you’ll say those words because he killed him with a vicious blow from his cudgel, and so he’s made him look like this to fool you.” The Tang Priest, who really was gullible, now believed Bajie, and he started to recite the spell.

Wukong, unable to stop the pain, knelt beside the path and cried, “Stop, stop. Say whatever it is you have to say,”

“Baboon,” said Sanzang, “I have nothing more to say to you. If a monk acts rightly he will grow daily but invisibly, like grass in a garden during the spring, whereas an evildoer will be imperceptibly worn away day by day like a stone. You have killed three people, one after the other, in this wild and desolate place, and there is nobody here to find you out or bring a case against you. But if you go to a city or some other crowded place and start laying about you with that murderous cudgel, we’ll be in big trouble and there will be no escape for us. Go back!”

“You’re wrong to hold it against me, Master,” Wukong replied, “as that wretch was obviously an evil monster set on murdering you. But so far from being grateful that I’ve saved you by killing it, you would have to believe that idiot’s tittle-tattle and keep sending me away. As the saying goes, you should never have to do anything more that three times. I’d be a low and shameless creature if I didn’t go now. I’ll go, I’ll go all right, but who will you have left to look after you?”

“Damned ape,” Sanzang replied, “you get ruder and ruder. You seem to think that you’re the only one. What about Bajie and Friar Sand? Aren’t they people?”

On hearing him say that Bajie and Friar Sand were suitable people too, Wukong was very hurt. “That’s a terrible thing to hear, Master,” he said. “When you left Chang’an, Liu Boqin helped you on your way, and when you reached the Double Boundary Mountain you saved me and I took you as my master. I’ve gone into ancient caves and deep forests capturing monsters and demons. I won Bajie and Friar Sand over, and I’ve had a very hard time of it. But today you’ve turned stupid and you’re sending me back. ‘When the birds have all been shot the bow is put away, and when the rabbits are all killed the hounds are stewed.’ Oh well! If only you hadn’t got that Band-tightening Spell.”

“I won’t recite it again,” said Sanzang.

“You shouldn’t say that,” replied Wukong. “If you’re ever beset by evil monsters from whom you can’t escape, and if Bajie and Friar Sand can’t save you, then think of me. If it’s unbearable, say the spell. My head will ache even if I’m many tens of thousands of miles away. But if I do come back to you, never say it again.”

The Tang Priest grew angrier and angrier as Wukong talked on, and tumbling off his horse he told Friar Sand to take paper and brush from the pack. Then he fetched some water from a stream, rubbed the inkstick on a stone, wrote out a letter of dismissal, and handed it to Wukong.

“Here it is in writing,” he said. “I don’t want you as my disciple a moment longer. If I ever see you again may I fall into the Avichi Hell.”

Wukong quickly took the document and said, “There’s no need to swear an oath, Master. I’m off.” He folded the paper up and put it in his sleeve, then tried once more to mollify Sanzang. “Master,” he said, “I’ve spent some time with you, and I’ve also been taught by the Bodhisattva. Now I’m being fired in the middle of the journey, when I’ve achieved nothing. Please sit down and accept my homage, then I won’t feel so bad about going.”

The Tang Priest turned away and would not look at him, muttering, “I am a good monk, and I won’t accept the respects of bad people like you.”

Seeing that Sanzang was refusing to face him, the Great Sage used magic to give himself extra bodies. He blew a magic breath on three hairs plucked from the back of his head and shouted, “Change!” They turned into three more Wukongs, making a total of four with the real one, and surrounding the master on all four sides they kowtowed to him. Unable to avoid them by dodging to left or right, Sanzang had to accept their respects.

The Great Sage jumped up, shook himself, put the hairs back, and gave Friar Sand these instructions: “You are a good man, my brother, so mind you stop Bajie from talking nonsense and be very careful on the journey. If at any time evil spirits capture our master, you tell them that I’m his senior disciple. The hairy devils of the West have heard of my powers and won’t dare to harm him.”

“I am a good monk,” said the Tang Priest, “and I’d never mention the name of a person as bad as you. Go back.” As his master refused over and over again to change his mind Wukong had nothing for it but to go. Look at him:

Holding back his tears he bowed good-bye to his master,

Then sadly but with care he gave instructions to Friar Sand.

His head pushed the hillside grass apart,

His feet kicked the creepers up in the air.

Heaven and earth spun round like a wheel;

At flying over mountains and seas none could beat him.

Within an instant no sign of him could be seen;

He retraced his whole journey in a flash.

Holding back his anger, Wukong left his master and went straight back to the Water Curtain Cave on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit on his somersault cloud. He was feeling lonely and miserable when he heard the sound of water. When he looked around from where he was in midair, he realized that it was the waves of the Eastern Sea. The sight of it reminded him of the Tang Priest, and he could not stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He stopped his cloud and stayed there a long time before going. If you don’t know what happened when he went, listen to the explanation in the next installment.