CHAPTER 80 

The Young Girl Seeks a Mate to Build Up the Male; Protecting His Master the Mind-Ape Sees Through a Demon

The story tells how the king, ministers and common people of Bhiksuland escorted the Tang Priest and his three disciples out of the city. Seven miles later they were still unwilling to part from the pilgrims, but Sanzang insisted on getting out of the coach, mounting the horse and taking his leave of them. The people who had been seeing him off did not return to the city until the travelers had vanished from view.

When the four had been travelling for a long time the winter and the spring too were over. There was no end of wild flowers and mountain trees to be seen; fragrant blossoms filled the view. To Sanzang’s alarm another towering mountain appeared in front of them.

“Disciples,” he asked, “is there a way across the high mountain before us? We must be careful.”

“Master,” laughed Pilgrim Sun, “that’s not what a seasoned traveler should be saying. You sound much more like some pampered prince trying to look at the whole sky from the bottom of a well. As the old saying goes, a mountain can’t stop the road: it can find its own way across. So why ask whether there’s a way?”

“Even if this mountain cannot block the road,” Sanzang replied, “I am afraid that there may be monsters on the mountain precipices and evil spirits that will emerge from its deep recesses.”

“Don’t worry,” said Bajie, “don’t worry. We’re not far from Paradise here. I guarantee it’ll all be nice and peaceful—there won’t be any trouble.” As they were talking master and disciples reached the foot of the mountain without even noticing. Taking out his gold-banded cudgel Wukong climbed the rock-face.

“Master,” he called, “there’s a path that goes round the mountain. The going’s very easy. Hurry up!” The Tang Priest now put his worries aside and whipped the horse forward. “Carry the luggage for a while, brother,” said Friar Sand to Bajie, who did so while Friar Sand held the horse’s reins and the master sat in the carved saddle. They hurried along the main path up the steep slope after Wukong. This was what the mountain looked like:

The peak was wrapped in clouds;

Torrents rushed down ravines.

The paths were heavy with the scent of flowers,

And dense grew the countless trees.

Blue were the gages, white the plums,

Green the willows and red the peaches.

Spring was all but over where the cuckoo sang;

When fledgling swallows chirped the festival was finished.

Craggy boulders,

Blue-green pines shaped like parasols.

The track leading across the ridge

Climbed high over a tracery of rocks;

The beetling precipice

Was overgrown with creepers, grass and trees.

Peaks like a row of halberds vied in elegance;

Far from the ocean wave streams competed in gullies.

As the master was taking an unhurried look at the mountain scenery he was moved to homesickness by the sound of a bird singing. “Disciples,” he said,

“After receiving His Majesty’s command

I was given my passport in front of the brocade screen.

Watching lanterns on the fifteenth night I left the Eastern Land,

And then was parted from the emperor of Tang.

Just when the dragon and tiger winds both met

I and my disciples had to struggle with the horse.

Twelve may be the peaks of Mount Wu;

But when shall I face and see you again?”^*

“Master,” said Wukong, “you’re always suffering from homesickness. You’re not like a monk at all. Stop worrying and keep going: don’t upset yourself so. As the old saying goes, you’ve got to work hard if you want to be rich and successful.”

“What you say is quite right, disciple,” said Sanzang, “but I do not know where the road to the West runs.”

“Master,” said Bajie, “it’s all because our Rulai Buddha can’t bring himself to give those scriptures away. He must have removed the path because he knows we’re coming to fetch them. Why else can’t we get to the end of the journey?”

“Don’t talk such nonsense,” said Friar Sand. “Just keep going with Big Brother. As long as we stick with him we’re bound to get there in the end.”

As they were talking master and disciples came in sight of a great expanse of dark pine forest. In his fear the Tang Priest called out, “Wukong, no sooner have we taken that precipitous track over the mountain than we come to this deep, dark pine forest. Why? We must be careful.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” said Wukong.

“Nonsense,” said Sanzang. “Never trust what appears to be absolutely upright, and be on your guard against evil masquerading as goodness. I have been through quite a few pine woods with you, but never one as vast and deep as this.”

Just look at the trees:

Dense-packed to east and west,

In lines to north and south.

Dense-packed to east and west they reach the end of the clouds;

In lines to north and south they touch the azure firmament.

Thorns and brambles grow close-tangled all about;

Knotweed wraps itself around the branches.

Liana coils round kudzu vine,

Kudzu coils around liana.

Where liana coils around kudzu

Travelers cannot move between east and west;

Where kudzu coils round liana

Merchants may not ply between north and south.

In this forest

You could spend half a year,

Not knowing whether sun or moon was out,

Or travel for miles

And never see the stars.

Where the outlook is to the north the view is unbounded;

On southern slopes the bushes are in flower.

There are thousand-year-old locust trees,

Ten-thousand-year-old junipers,

Pines that endure the winter cold,

Mountain peaches that bear fruit,

Wild peonies,

And hibiscus,

All growing in a close-packed profusion,

So wild that not even a god could paint it.

Bird-song could be heard:

Parrots shrieking,

Cuckoos calling,

Magpies in the branches,

Crows feeding their mothers,

Orioles with their aerial dance,

As the mynas adjust their voices.

Quails singing,

Swallows chirping,

Mynas imitating people,

And thrushes that could recite sutras.

Then there were:

Great beasts swishing their tails,

Tigers gnashing their teeth.

Aged foxes and raccoon-dogs disguised as ladies,

Ancient gray wolves at whose baying the forest shook.

Had the Pagoda-carrying Heavenly King come here

His power to suppress demons would have been of no avail.

The Great Sage Sun was unafraid. Clearing the way ahead with his cudgel, he led the Tang Priest into the depths of the forest.

They had been travelling in this carefree style for many hours without seeing any sign of a way out of the forest when the Tang Priest called out, “Disciples, we have been through no end of steep and dangerous mountain woods on our journey west. Thank goodness we have found this purity and elegance and a smooth path. The rare and unusual flowers here are truly delightful. I intend to sit here for a moment to let the horse have a rest. I am, besides, famished. Go and beg me some meat-free food from somewhere.”

“Master,” said Wukong, “please dismount while I go begging.” This the venerable elder did. While Bajie tied the horse to a tree Friar Sand put the luggage down, brought out the begging bowl and handed it to Wukong.

“Sit still here, Master,” Wukong said, “and don’t even say the word ‘fear.’ I’ll be back in a moment.” While Sanzang sat upright in the shade of the pines Bajie and Friar Sand amused themselves looking for flowers and fruit.

Let us tell of the Great Sage who somersaulted into mid air, brought his cloud to a hall and looked back. All he could see coming from the pine forest were auspicious clouds and auras that coiled and spread all around. “Good, good,” he found himself saying. Do you know why? He was expressing his admiration for the Tang Priest, the reincarnation of the Venerable Golden Cicada and a holy man who had cultivated his conduct for ten successive lifetimes, which explained there was such an aura of good omen above his head.

“Five hundred years ago, when I made havoc in Heaven,” Wukong thought, “I wandered to the very corners of the oceans and ran wild at the end of the sky. I led a host of spirits and called myself the Great Sage Equaling Heaven. We subdued dragons and tigers, and I took us off the registers of death. I used to wear a triple golden crown and a coat of golden mail, and with my gold-banded cudgel in my hands and my cloud-treading shoes on my feet I had 47,000 demons under me. They all used to call me Lord Great Sage. I really was someone in those days. But ever since being rescued from Heaven’s punishment I’ve been a small-time nobody as his disciple. I reckon that as the master has such an aura of auspicious clouds over his head things are sure to turn out well for us on our way back to the East and I’m bound to win the true achievement.”

As Pilgrim Sun was congratulating himself along these lines he saw a column of black vapor rising from the south of the forest. “That black vapor means evil for sure,” he thought with alarm. “No black vapors could come from our Bajie or Friar Sand.”

While the Great Sage was still trying to make out exactly what the vapors were coming from, Sanzang was sitting in the forest clarifying his mind and contemplating the Buddha-nature as he recited the Mahaprajnaparamita Heart Sutra when suddenly he heard a high-pitched cry of “Help!”

“This is all very well,” said Sanzang with astonishment, “but who could that be calling so deep in the forest? It must be someone terrified by a wolf, a tiger, a leopard or some other wild beast. I shall go to take a look.” The venerable elder rose to his feet and walked through the thousand-year-old cypresses and even more ancient pines, holding on to vines and creepers, as he went close enough to see a woman tied to a big tree. The top half of her body was bound to the trunk with creepers and her lower half buried in the ground. Sanzang stopped to ask, “Why are you tied up here, lady bodhisattva?”

It was quite obvious that the wretched creature was an evil monster, but with his mortal eyes in a worldling’s body Sanzang was unable to perceive this. The monster’s response to the question was to weep copiously. Just look at the tears rolling down her peachy cheeks. She was so lovely that fish would have sunk and wild geese fallen out of the sky at the sight of her; the beauty of her sorrowing and sparkling eyes would have made the moon hide away and put the flowers to shame. Sanzang did not dare go any closer to her as he opened his mouth to ask, “What crime have you committed, lady bodhisattva? Tell me so that I can rescue you.”

The evil spirit then quickly put together a pack of lies as she replied, “Teacher, my home is in the country of Pinpo, which is some seventy miles from here. Both my parents are at home, and they are very great lovers of goodness. All their lives they have been on good terms with their relations and devoted to their friends. At the Clear and Bright Festival they invited all their relations and members of their own family to pay their respects at and sweep the ancestral graves. A whole procession of carrying-chairs and horses all went to the graves in the wilds outside the city. Here we set out our offerings and had just burnt the paper models of horses when a band of brigands sprang upon us with the sound of gongs and drums. They charged us shouting ‘kill!’ My parents and relations all got hold of horses and carrying-chairs and fled for their lives. Because I am so young I was too frightened to run: I just collapsed and was carried back to the mountains by the brigands. The top chieftain wanted me for his lady, the number two chieftain wanted me for his woman, and the third and fourth ones both fancied me for my looks. There were seventy or eighty of them all quarrelling over me and none of them would give way. So they tied me up here in the forest and broke up the band. I’ve been here for five days and five nights now and I’m only just alive now. I’ll soon be dead. Goodness only knows which ancestor however many generations back accumulated the virtue that brought you here to me today, reverend sir. I beg you in your great mercy to save my life. I won’t forget your goodness to me even when I lie dead under the nine springs of the underworld.” When she had finished speaking her tears flowed like rain.

As Sanzang really did have a merciful heart he could not help weeping and sobbing himself. “Disciples,” he shouted. Bajie and Friar Sand were still looking for flowers and fruit in the forest when suddenly they heard their master’s anguished cry.

“Brother Sha,” said the idiot, “the master’s found a relation here.”

“What nonsense, brother,” said Friar Sand with a smile. “In all the time we’ve been going we haven’t met a single good person, so where could any relation of his have come from?”

“If it’s not a relation why’s the master crying for them?” Bajie asked, adding, “You and I had better go to take a look.” Friar Sand did indeed go back to where they had been before. Leading the horse and carrying the luggage they went up to the master and asked, “What’s up, Master?”

The Tang Priest pointed at the tree as he replied, “Bajie, untie this lady bodhisattva and save her life.” Without caring whether this was the right or the wrong thing to do, the idiot set to.

The Great Sage meanwhile saw from up in the air the dense black vapors completely obscuring the auspicious glow. “This is bad,” he said, “this is bad. If the black vapors are covering the auspicious glow that means something evil is threatening my master. Never mind about begging for food—I’m going back to see the master.” He turned his cloud back and landed in the forest, where he saw Bajie recklessly untying the ropes. Going up to him Wukong grabbed an ear and threw him to the ground. “The master told me to rescue her,” the idiot protested, looking up to see Wukong as he scrambled back to his feet, “so why did you push me over like that? You’re just throwing your weight about.”

“Brother,” replied Wukong with a smile, “don’t untie her. She’s an evil spirit who’s been putting on an act to fool us.”

“Wretched ape,” Sanzang said, “talking nonsense again. How can you possibly take a girl like this for an evil spirit?”

“There’s something you don’t know, Master.” Wukong replied. “In the old days I tried all these tricks myself when I wanted some human flesh. You couldn’t possibly tell what she is.”

“Master,” said Bajie, pouting sulkily, “don’t let that Protector of the Horses take you in. She’s a local girl. We’ve never had dealings with her before on our long journey from the East and she’s no relation or in-law of ours, so how can you say she’s an evil spirit? He’s trying to get rid of us by making us go ahead so he can turn a somersault and get back here by magic. Then he’s going to have a bit of fun with her and ruin our reputation.”

“You cretin,” shouted Pilgrim Sun, “stop talking such rubbish. I’ve never done any such outrageous thing on all our journey to the West. I reckon it must have been some reckless womanizer like yourself who forgot his principles when he saw a good chance. I expect you tricked some family into taking you as their son-in-law and tied her up here.”

“That’s enough of that,” said Sanzang, “that’s enough. Now then, Bajie. Your elder brother usually sees things very clearly. Ignore what he is saying. Let us be on our way.”

“Splendid,” said Wukong with great delight, “you have a good destiny, Master. Please mount. Once we’re out of the pine forest there will be a house where we can beg for some food for you.” The four of them then pressed on together, leaving the monster behind.

The story tells how the monster gnashed her teeth with fury as she was left tied there to the tree. “I’ve heard tell of Pilgrim Sun’s tremendous magic powers for years,” she said, “and now that I’ve seen him today I know that his reputation’s well-founded. As that Tang Priest has been cultivating his conduct ever since he was a boy he has never lost a drop of his primal masculinity. I was longing to mate with him so that I could become a golden immortal of the Supreme Ultimate. I never expected that monkey to see through my magic and save him. If I’d been untied and released I could have carried him off whenever I chose and he’d have been mine. Now that Sun Wukong has made those damaging remarks and taken the Tang Priest away my efforts have all been for nothing. Let’s see what happens when I give him another couple of shouts.”

Not shifting her ropes, the evil spirit made the most of the wind being in the right direction to carry some high-pitched words of morality into the Tang Priest’s ear. Do you know what she was shouting? “Teacher,” she called, “if you forget your conscience and refuse to save a living being’s life what’s the use of your fetching the scriptures from the Buddha?”

When the Tang Priest heard this call he reined the horse in and said, “Wukong, go and rescue that girl.”

“You’ve started on your way, Master,” Wukong replied. “What made you think of her again?”

“She is shouting again there,” the Tang Priest said.

“Did you hear, Bajie?” Wukong asked.

“My big lugs cover my ear-holes,” Bajie replied, “and I didn’t hear anything.”

“Did you hear, Friar Sand?”

“I was walking ahead, carrying the pole with the luggage,” Friar Sand replied. “I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t hear anything either.”

“Neither did I,” said Wukong. “What did she say, Master? You were the only one who heard.”

“What she called was quite right,” the Tang Priest called. “She asked what was the use of fetching scriptures when I went to visit the Buddha if I forgot my conscience and refused to save a living being’s life. To save a human life is better than building a seven-storied pagoda. Rescuing her straight away would be even better than worshipping the Buddha and fetching the scriptures.”

“If you’re wanting to be charitable, Master,” Wukong replied, “you’re incurable. Just think of all the demons you’ve met in all the mountains you’ve crossed on your journey west since leaving the East. They’ve often taken you into their caves and I’ve had to rescue you. I’ve killed tens of thousands of them with this iron cudgel of mine. So why can’t you bring yourself to let a single devil die today? Why do you have to rescue her?”

“Disciple,” the Tang Priest replied, “there’s an old saying, ‘Do not fail to do a good deed because it is small; do not commit a bad deed because it is small.’ You’re still to go and save her.”

“If that’s the way you’re going to be, Master, I can’t accept that responsibility,” Wukong replied. “You insist on rescuing her and I dare not try too hard to dissuade you. When I did make a little attempt to do so you lost your temper again. You can go and rescue her if you want to.”

“Watch your tongue, ape,” Sanzang retorted. “Sit here while Bajie and I go to rescue her.”

The Tang Priest went back into the forest and told Bajie to undo the ropes around the top half of her body and dig the lower half out with his rake. The demon stamped her feet, fastened her skirt and happily followed the Tang Priest out of the pine forest. When she met Wukong all he did was to wear a mocking smile.

“Impudent ape,” said the Tang Priest abusively, “what are you smiling at?”

“I’m laughing at you,” Wukong replied:

“You meet up with good friends when your luck is going well;

And when it’s going badly you find yourself a belle.”

“Impudent macaque!” said Sanzang, being abusive again. “What nonsense! I have been a monk ever since I came out of my mother’s womb. I am now making this journey west at His Majesty’s command with the devout intention of worshipping the Buddha and fetching the scriptures. I am not the sort of person to care about wealth and office, so what do you mean by my luck going badly?”

“Master,” replied Wukong with a grin, “you may have been a monk since you were a child, and you may be good at reading sutras and invoking the Buddha, but you have never studied the text of royal laws. This girl is young and beautiful. If monks like us travel with her we may well meet with evil people who arrest us and turn us in to the authorities. They won’t care about worshipping Buddhas or fetching scriptures. They’ll treat it as a case of illicit sex, and even if that isn’t proved we’ll still be convicted of abduction. You will lose your ordination license, Master, and be beaten half to death. Bajie will be sent into exile and Friar Sand sentenced to penal servitude. Even I won’t get off scot-free. No matter how I try to talk my way out of it I’ll still be found guilty of wrongdoing.”

“Don’t talk such rubbish,” Sanzang shouted. “After all, I did save her life. There will be no trouble. We are taking her with us. I will be responsible for whatever happens.”

“You may say you’ll be responsible, Master,” Wukong replied, “but what you don’t realize is that so far from rescuing her you’re destroying her.”

“I saved her life by rescuing her from the forest,” said Sanzang, “so how can I be destroying her?”

“If she had stayed tied up in the forest without any food for three to five days, ten days or even half a month and starved to death,” said Wukong, “she would at least have gone to the Underworld with her body in one piece. But now you’ve taken her away from there. You’re on a fast horse and travelling like the wind. The rest of us have to follow you. How will she be able to keep up on her tiny feet? She can barely walk. If she gets left behind and a wolf, a tiger or a leopard eats her up you’ll have killed her.”

“You are right,” Sanzang said. “Thank you for thinking of it. What are we to do about it?”

“Lift her up and let her ride on the horse with you,” replied Wukong with a grin.

“I could not possibly ride on the same horse as her,” moaned Sanzang.

“Then how is she to travel?” Wukong asked.

“Bajie can carry her on his back,” Sanzang replied.

“You’re in luck, idiot,” said Wukong.

“There’s no such thing as a light load on a long journey,” Bajie replied. “Having to carry her isn’t luck.”

“With your long snout you’ll be able to turn it round and chat her up on the quiet while you’re carrying her,” Wukong replied, “which will be very convenient for you.”

Bajie’s reaction to hearing this was to beat his chest and jump about in fury. “That’s terrible,” he said, “that’s terrible, I’d sooner put up with the pain of a flogging from the master. If I carry her I won’t possibly come out of it clean. You’ve always been a slanderer. I’m not carrying her.”

“Very well then,” Sanzang said, “very well then. I can walk a little further. I shall come down and walk slowly with you. Bajie can lead the horse with nobody riding it.”

“You’ve got yourself a good bargain there, idiot,” said Wukong, roaring with laughter. “The master’s done you a favour by letting you lead the horse.”

“You are talking nonsense again, ape,” said Sanzang. “As the ancients said, ‘When a horse is to travel three hundred miles it cannot get there by itself.’ If I walk slowly are you going to leave me behind? When I go slowly you will have to go slowly too. We shall all take the lady bodhisattva down the mountain together. We can leave her in some convent, temple, monastery or house that we come to. Then we will still have rescued her.”

“You’re right, Master,” Wukong replied. “Let’s press on quickly.”

Sanzang took the lead while Friar Sand carried the luggage, Bajie led the riderless horse and the girl, and Wukong carried his iron cudgel as they carried on together. Within seven to ten miles the evening was drawing in and a tall building came into sight.

“Disciple,” said Sanzang, “that must be a temple of some sort. We shall ask to spend the night here and be on our way first thing tomorrow.”

“What you say is right, Master,” said Wukong. “Let’s all get a move on.”

They were soon at the gates, where Sanzang told them, “Keep well out of the way while I go in first to ask if we can stay for the night. If it looks suitable I shall send someone to call to you.” So they all stood in the shadows of the poplars while Wukong kept an eye on the girl, his iron cudgel in his hand.

The venerable elder walked forward to see that the gates were hanging crooked and falling to pieces. What he saw when he pushed the gates open chilled him to the heart:

The cloisters were deserted,

The ancient shrine left desolate.

The courtyard was overgrown with moss;

Sagebrush and brambles choked the paths.

The only lanterns came from the fireflies

While the croaking of frogs had replaced the water-clock.

The venerable elder started crying.

Indeed:

The desolate halls were falling down,

The lonely cloisters collapsing.

Broken bricks and tiles lay in a dozen heaps,

And all the pillars and beams were askew.

Grass was growing all around;

The kitchens were crumbling and buried in dust.

In derelict towers the drums had lost their skins;

Broken was the glass lamp.

The color had gone from the Buddha’s golden statue;

The figures of arhats lay strewn upon the floor.

Guanyin had turned to mud in the soaking rain,

Her pure vase with a willow spray fallen to the ground.

No monk was to be seen there by day,

And only foxes slept there at night.

As the wind roared with the sound of thunder

This was a place for tiger and leopard to shelter.

The walls around had collapsed

And no gates could be closed to guard it.

There is a poem about this that goes:

For many a year had the temple been unrepaired;

In its derelict state it had gone from bad to worse.

The gales had destroyed the faces of the temple guardians,

And rainstorms had washed the heads off the Buddha statues.

The vajrapani had collapsed and been soaked through.

The local god had lost his shrine and stayed outside at night.

Two other things were even more depressing:

Bell and drums lay on the ground instead of hanging in their towers.

Summoning up his courage, Sanzang went in through the inner gates where he saw that the bell-tower and drum-tower had both collapsed, leaving only a single bronze bell planted in the ground, its bottom half the color of indigo. With the passage of the years the top half of the bell had been bleached in the rain while the earth’s vapors had greened the lower part.

“ Bell,” Sanzang called aloud as he touched it,

“Once you roared from high in the tower,

Calling afar from the painted beam where you hung.

At cockcrow you used to ring in the dawn,

And at evening you announced the dusk.

Where now are the lay brothers who begged for the copper,

Or the craftsman who cast it to form you?

Both, I imagine, are now in the Underworld;

They have gone without trace and you are left silent.”

The venerable elder’s loud sighs had by now disturbed someone in the monastery. A lay brother who was offering incense heard the voice, climbed to his feet, picked up a broken brick and threw it at the bell. The bell’s clang gave the venerable elder such a fright that he fell over then scrambled up again to flee, only to trip over the root of a tree and go flying again.

As he lay on the ground Sanzang raised his head and said, “Bell,

I was just lamenting your fate

When suddenly you clanged.

On this deserted route to the West

Over the years you have turned into a spirit.”

The lay brother came over to Sanzang and steadied him as he said, “Please get up, reverend sir. The bell hasn’t become a spirit. It was I who struck it just now.” Looking up and seeing how dark and ugly the other was Sanzang said, “I suppose you are a goblin or some other evil creature. I am no ordinary man. I come from Great Tang and I have disciples who can subdue dragons and tigers. If you run into them your life will be lost.”

“Don’t be afraid, my lord,” replied the lay brother, falling to his knees. I’m no evil being. I’m a lay brother who looks after the incense here. When I heard those fine things you were saying just now I wanted to come out and welcome you but I was afraid that it might be some demon knocking at the gates. That was why I didn’t dare come out until I’d thrown a piece of brick at the bell to calm my fears. Please rise, my lord.”

Only then did Sanzang calm himself sufficiently to reply, “Lay brother, that fright was almost the death of me. Take me inside.” The lay brother led Sanzang straight in through the third pair of gates. What the Tang Priest saw here was quite different from outside:

A cloud-patterned wall built of blue bricks,

Halls roofed with green glazed tiles.

The holy statues were sheathed in gold,

The steps made of pure white jade.

Blue light danced in the Buddha hall;

Fine vapors rose from the Vairocana chapel.

Above the Manjusri hall

Were decorations of flying clouds;

In the Library of Scriptures

Were patterns of flowers and green leaves.

On the roof above the triple eaves stood a precious jar;

In the Tower of Five Blessings embroidered covers were spread.

A thousand bright bamboos waved over the dhyana seat;

Ten thousand bluish pines threw their light on the gates.

Jade-coloured clouds reflected gold on this palace;

Auspicious clouds drifted round the woods full of purple mist.

Each morning the fragrant breezes could be smelled all around;

In the evening painted drums were heard on the high hills.

There should be morning sunshine to patch torn robes;

How can the sutra be finished by the light of the moon?

The courtyard at the back is lit by half a wall of lamps;

A column of fragrant smoke shines in the hall.

Sanzang saw this but did not dare go inside. “Lay brother,” he called, “why is the front of the monastery so dilapidated but the back so neat and tidy?”

“My lord,” said the lay brother with a smile, “these mountains are full of evil creatures and brigands. On clear days they roam the mountains to rob and on dull ones they shelter in the monastery. They knock the Buddha statues down to use as seats and burn the wooden pillars for firewood. The monks here are too feeble to argue with them, which is why they have abandoned the wrecked buildings at the front for the brigands to stay in. They have found some new benefactors to build the new monastery for them. Now there is one for the pure and one for the impure. This is how we do things in the West.”

“So that is the way things are,” said Sanzang.

As he walked further Sanzang saw written over the gate in large letters SEA-GUARDING MONASTERY OF MEDITATION. Only then did he stride in through the gates, where a monk appeared coming towards him. Just see what the monk looked like:

His hat of velvet and brocade was held with a pin,

And a pair of bronze rings hung from his ears.

His tunic was made of woolen stuff,

And his eyes were white and bright as silver.

He held in his hand a self-beating drum

As he recited scriptures in an unknown tongue.

Sanzang did not know before

That he was a lama on the road to the West.

As the lama came out he saw how very handsome and elegant Sanzang was: clear-browed and fine-eyed with a broad forehead and level top to his skull, ears hanging to his shoulders and arms so long they came below his knees. He looked like an arhat come down to earth. The lama, his face wreathed in smiles, went up to Sanzang chuckling with delight to grab hold of him, feel his hands and feet, rub his nose and tug at his ears as ways of showing his friendliness.

After leading Sanzang into the abbot’s lodgings and going through the rituals of greeting the lama asked him, “Where have you come from, venerable Father?”

“I have been sent by His Majesty the emperor of Great Tang in the East to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures from Thunder Monastery in India in the West,” Sanzang replied. “As we were passing this way when it was becoming dark I have come to your distinguished monastery to put up here for the night before leaving early tomorrow morning. I beg you to grant me this expeditious help.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” replied the lama with a smile, “you shouldn’t say that. We didn’t really want to become monks. We were all given life by our mothers and fathers and only cut our ties with them because we had unlucky destinies and our families could not afford to keep us. Even though we are now disciples of the Buddhist faith you must not talk empty words.”

“I spoke in all sincerity,” Sanzang replied.

“However far is the journey from the East to the Western Heaven?” the monk said. “Along the way there are mountains, there are caves in the mountains and there are spirits in the caves. I don’t think that a lone traveler looking as delicate as you could possibly be a pilgrim going to fetch the scriptures.”

“You are quite right, abbot,” Sanzang replied. “I could never have got here alone. I have three disciples who clear my way across the mountains and build me bridges over rivers. It is only because they have protected me that I have been able to reach your monastery.”

“Where are your three distinguished disciples?” the lama asked.

“Waiting outside the gates of the monastery,” Sanzang replied.

“Father,” said the lama with alarm, “you don’t realize that there are dangerous tigers, wolves, evil bandits, ghosts and demons here. We don’t dare roam far even by day and we shut the gates before nightfall. How can you leave people outside this late?” He then told his disciples to ask them in at once.

Two young lamas hurried outside. At the sight of Wukong they fell over, and then fell over again when they saw Bajie. Scrambling to their feet they ran back in as fast as they could and said, “My lord, your luck is out. Your disciples have disappeared. There are only three or four evil monsters standing outside the gates.”

“What do they look like?” Sanzang asked.

“One has a face like a thunder god,” the young lamas replied, “one has a face like a tilt-hammer, and one has a green face and terrible fangs. There is a girl with them too—she has oiled hair and a powdered face.”

“You would not know who they are,” replied Sanzang with a smile. “The three ugly ones are my disciples and the girl is someone I rescued in the pine forest.”

“My lord,” the lama said, “how can a master as handsome as you have found yourself such ugly disciples?”

“Ugly they may be,” Sanzang replied, “but they are all useful. Ask them in straight away. If you take any longer the one who looks like a thunder god is a bit of a trouble-maker. He was not born to a mother and father and he will fight his way in.”

The young lamas then hurried outside again and fell to their knees, shivering and shaking, as they said, “My lords, Lord Tang invites you in.”

“Brother,” said Bajie, “if he’s invited us, that’s that. Why are they shivering and shaking?”

“They’re scared because we’re so ugly,” Wukong replied.

“Rubbish,” said Bajie. “We were born that way. None of us is ugly from choice.”

“Make yourself look a bit less ugly,” said Xingzhe, and the idiot really did tuck his snout into his tunic and keep his head down as he led the horse while Friar Sand carried the pole and Xingzhe brought up the rear, holding his cudgel in his hand and dragging the girl along. They went past the ruined buildings and cloisters and in through the third part of gates. When they had tethered the horse they went into the abbot’s lodgings to meet the lama and take their seats in order of precedence. The lama then went inside to lead seventy or eighty young lamas to greet them, tidy their rooms, give them a vegetarian meal and look after them. Indeed:

In storing up achievement be mindful of mercy;

When the Buddha’s Dharma flourishes monks admire each other.

If you do not know how they left the monastery, listen to the explanation in the next installment.

* The original of these eight lines is made up largely of terms from Chinese dominoes, word-play that is lost in translation.