Journey to the West (vol. 1)

Chapter 10

With a Stupid Plan the Dragon King Breaks the Laws of Heaven

Minister Wei Sends a Letter to an Officer of Hell

We shall not discuss how Chen Guangrui performed his duties or Xuanzang cultivated his conduct; instead we shall talk about two wise men who lived beside the banks of the River Jing outside the city of Chang'an. One was an old fisherman called Zhang Shao and the other was a woodcutter called Li Ding. They were both advanced scholars who had never taken the official examination, lettered men of the mountains. One day, when Li Ding had sold his load of firewood and Zhang Shao had sold his basketful of carp in Chang'an city, they went into a tavern, drank till they were half tipsy, and strolled slowly home along the banks of the Jing, each holding a bottle in his hand.

“Brother Li,” said Zhang Shao, “it seems to me that people who struggle for fame kill themselves for it; those who compete for profit die for it; those who accept honors sleep with a tiger in their arms; and those who receive imperial favours walk around with snakes in their sleeves. Taking all in all, we are much better off living free among our clear waters and blue hills: we delight in our poverty and follow our destinies.”

“You are right, Brother Zhang,” said Li Ding, “but your clear waters have nothing on my blue hills.”

“Your blue hills are not a patch on my clear waters,” retorted Zhang Shao, “and here is a lyric to the tune of The Butterfly Loves the Flowers to prove it:

The skiff is tiny amid the misty expanse of waves;

Calmly I lean against the single sail,

Listening to the voice of Xishi the beauty.

My thoughts and mind are cleared; I have no wealth or fame

As I toy with the waterweed and the rushes.

“To count a few gulls makes the journey happy.

In the reedy bend, under the willow bank,

My wife and children smile with me.

The moment I fall asleep, wind and waves are quiet;

No glory, no disgrace, and not a single worry.”

“Your clear waters are no match for my blue hills,” said Li Ding, “and there is another lyric to the same tune to prove it. It goes:

The cloudy woods are covered with pine blossom.

Hush! Hear the oriole sing,

As if it played a pipe with its cunning tongue.

With touches of red and ample green the spring is warm;

Suddenly the summer's here as the seasons turn.

“When autumn comes the look of things is changed;

The scented chrysanthemum

Is enough for my pleasure.

Soon the cruel winter plucks all off.

I am free through four seasons, at nobody's beck and call.”

“You don't enjoy the good things in your blue hills that I do on my clear waters,” replied the fisherman, “and I can prove it with another lyric to the tune of The Partridge Heaven:

In this magic land we live off the cloudy waters;

With a sweep of the oar the boat becomes a home.

We cut open the live fish and fry the green turtle

As steam coils from the purple crab and the red shrimps bubble.

Green reed shoots,

Sprouts of water-lilies,

Better still, water chestnuts and the gorgon fruit,

Delicate louts roots and seeds, tender celery,

Arrowhead, reed-hearts and bird-glory blossom.”

“Your clear waters cannot compare with my blue hills when it comes to the good things they provide,” said the woodcutter, and I can cite another lyric to the tune The Partridge Heaven as evidence:

Mighty crags and towering peaks reach to the sky;

A grass hut or a thatched cottage is my home.

Pickled chicken and duck are better than turtles or crabs,

Roebuck, boar, venison, and hare beat fish and shrimps.

The leaves of the tree of heaven,

Yellow chinaberry sprouts,

And, even better, bamboo shoots and wild tea,

Purple plums and red peaches, ripe gages, and apricots,

Sweet pears, sharp jujubes, and osmanthus blossom.”

“Your blue hills are really nothing on my clear waters,” replied the fisherman, “and there is another lyric to the tune Heavenly Immortal:

In my little boat I can stay where I like,

Having no fear of the many misty waves.

Drop the hook, cast wide the net, to catch fresh fish:

Even without fat or sauce,

They taste delicious

As the whole family eats its meal together.

“When there are fish to spare I sell them in Chang'an market

To buy good liquor and get a little drunk.

Covered with my grass cloak I sleep on the autumn river,

Snoring soundly

Without a care,

Not giving a damn for honour and glory.”

“Your clear waters still aren't as good as my blue mountains,” came back the woodcutter, “and I too have a Heavenly Immortal lyric to prove it:

Where I build a little thatched hut under the hill

The bamboo, orchid, plum, and pine are wonderful.

As I cross forests and mountains to look for dry firewood

Nobody asks awkward questions,

And I can sell

As much or as little as the world wants.

I spend the money on wine and I'm happy,

Content with my earthenware bowl and china jug.

When I've drunk myself blotto I lie in the shade of the pine.

No worries,

No books to balance;

What do I care about success or failure?”

“Brother Li,” said the fisherman, “you don't make as easy a living in the hills as I do on the water, and I can prove it with a lyric to the tune The Moon on the West River:

The smartweed's flowers are picked out by the moon

While the tangled leaves of rushes sway in the wind.

Clear and distant the azure sky, empty the Chu river:

Stir up the water, and the stars dance.

Big fish swim into the net in shoals;

Little ones swallow the hooks in swarms;

Boiled or fried they taste wonderful-

I laugh at the roaring river and lake.”

“Brother Zhang,” replied the woodcutter, “the living I make in the hills is much easier than yours on the water, and I can prove it with another Moon on the West River lyric:

Withered and leafless rattan fills the paths,

Old bamboo with broken tips covers the hillside.

Where vines and creepers tangle and climb

I pull some off to tie my bundles.

Elms and willows hollow with decay,

Pines and cedars cracked by the wind-

I stack them up against the winter cold,

And whether they're sold for wine or money is up to me.”

“Although you don't do too badly in your hills, your life is not as elegant as mine on the water,” said the fisherman, “as I can show with some lines to the tune The Immortal by the River.

As the tide turns my solitary boat departs;

I sing in the night, resting from the oars.

From under a straw cape the waning moon is peaceful.

The sleeping gulls are not disturbed

As the clouds part at the end of the sky.

Tired, I lie on the isle of rushes with nothing to do,

And when the sun is high I'm lying there still.

I arrange everything to suit myself:

How can the court official compare with my ease

As he waits in the cold for an audience at dawn?”

“Your life on the water may be elegant, but it's nothing compared with mine,” replied the woodcutter, “and I have some lines to the same tune to demonstrate the point:

On an autumn day I carry my axe along the greeny path

Bringing the load back in the cool of evening,

Putting wild flowers in my hair, just to be different,

I push aside the clouds to find my way home,

And the moon is up when I tell them to open the door.

Rustic wife and innocent son greet me with smiles,

And I recline on my bed of grass and wooden pillow.

Steamed millet and pear are spread before me,

While the new wine is warm in the pot: This is really civilized.”

“All this is about our living and the ways we provide for ourselves,” said the fisherman. “I can prove to you that your leisure is nowhere near as good as mine with a poem that goes:

Idly I watch the white cranes as they cross the sky;

As I Moor the boat at the river's bank, a blue door gives me shade.

Leaning on the sail I teach my son to twist a fishing line,

When rowing's done I dry the nets out with my wife.

A settled nature can really know the calm of the waves;

A still body feels the lightness of the breeze.

Always to wear a green straw cape and a blue straw hat

Is better than the purple robes of the court.”

“Your leisure doesn't come up to mine,” replied the woodcutter, “as this poem I shall now recite demonstrates:

With a lazy eye on the white clouds in the distance,

I sit alone in a thatched but, then close the bamboo door.

When there's nothing to do I teach my son to read;

Sometimes a visitor comes and we play a game of chess.

When I'm happy I take my stick and walk singing along the paths,

Or carry my lute up the emerald hills.

Grass shoes with hempen thongs, a cloak of coarsest cloth,

A mind relaxed: better than wearing silk.”

“Li Ding,” said the other, “how truly it can be said of us that 'by reciting some verses we become close friends: What need for golden winecups and a sandalwood table?' But there is nothing remarkable in just reciting verses; what would you say if we made couplets in which we each contributed a line about our lives as fisherman and woodcutter?”

“Brother Zhang,” said Li Ding, “that is an excellent suggestion. Please be the one to start.” Here are their couplets:

My boat is moored in the green waters amid the misty waves;

My home is in the wilds, deep in the mountains.

How well I like the swollen stream under the bridge in spring;

My delight is a mountain peak swathed in clouds at dawn.

Dragon-sized fresh carp cooked at any time;

Dry, rotten, firewood always keeps one warm.

A full array of hooks and nets to support my old age;

Carrying wood and making twine will keep me till I die.

Lying back in a tiny boat watching the flying geese;

Reclining beside the grassy path and hearing the wild swans call.

I have no stall in the marketplace of tongues;

I've left no trace in the sea of disputation.

The nets hung to dry beside the brook are like brocade;

An axe well honed on rock is sharper than a spear.

Under the shining autumn moon I often fish alone;

I meet nobody on the solitary mountain in spring.

I trade my surplus fish for wine and drink it with my wife;

When I've wood to spare I buy a bottle and share it with my sons.

Singing and musing to myself I'm as wild as I care to be;

Long songs, long sighs, I can let myself be crazy.

I invite my brothers and cousins and fellow boatmen;

Leading my friends by the hand I meet the old man of the wilds.

As we play guess-fingers the cups fly fast;

When we make riddles the goblets slowly circulate.

Saute or boiled crab is a delight every morning;

Plenty of fried duck and chicken cooked in ashes every day.

As my simple wife brews tea, my spirits are untrammelled;

While my mountain spouse cooks supper, my mind is at ease.

At the coming of dawn I wash my stick in the ripples;

When the sun rises I carry firewood across the road.

After the rain I put on my cloak to catch live carp;

I wield my axe before the wind to fell a withered pine.

I cover my tracks and hide from the world, acting the imbecile;

I change my name and pretend to be deaf and dumb.

“Brother Li,” said Zhang Shao. “I unfairly took the first lines just now, so now it's your turn to compose the first lines while I follow you.” Thus they continued:

The man of the mountains acting mad under wind and moon;

The haughty and unwanted dotard of the river.

With his share of idleness, and able to be quite free;

No sound from his voice as he revels in his peace.

On moonlit nights he sleeps secure in a cottage of thatch;

He lightly covers himself at dusk with clothes of reed.

His passion spent, he befriends the pine and the plum;

He is happy to be the companion of cormorant and gull.

Fame and profit count for nothing in his mind;

His ears have never heard the clash of arms.

One is always pouring out fresh rice-wine,

The other has wild vegetable soup with every meal.

One makes a living with two bundles of firewood;

The other supports himself with rod and line.

One idly tells his innocent son to sharpen the axe of steel;

The other quietly bids his slow-witted child to mend the nets.

In spring one likes to see the willows turning green;

When the seasons change the other enjoys the rushes' blue.

Avoiding the summer heat, one trims the new bamboo;

The other gathers water-chestnuts on cool July evenings.

When frost begins, plump chickens are killed each day;

In mid-autumn the crabs are at their best and always in the pot.

When the sun rises in winter, the one is still asleep;

The other keeps cool in the dog days of summer.

Throughout the year one does as he pleases in the hills;

In all four seasons the other is happy on the lake.

By gathering firewood you can become an Immortal;

There is nothing worldly about fishing.

Sweet smell the wild flowers growing outside my door;

Smooth are the green waves lapping at my boat.

A contented man never speaks of high honors;

A settled nature is stronger than a city wall.

Higher than a city wall for resisting enemy armies;

More illustrious than holding high office and listening to imperial decrees.

Those who are happy with mountains and rivers are few indeed;

Thank Heaven, thank Earth, and thank the spirits.

When the two of them had recited their verses and matched couplets they came to the place where their ways parted and bowed to each other to take their leave. “Brother Li,” said Zhang Shao, “look after yourself on your way home and keep a sharp look-out for tigers up in the hills. If you met with an accident then 'an old friend would be missing on the road tomorrow.'“ This made Li Ding angry.

“You scoundrel,” he said, “I'm your friend; I'd die for you. How could you put such a curse on me? If I'm killed by a tiger, you'll be capsized by a wave.”

“I'll never be capsized!” retorted Zhang Shao.

“'In nature there are unexpected storms and in life unpredictable vicissitudes,'“ quoted Li Ding, “so how can you be sure you'll never have an accident?”

“Brother Zhang,” replied the fisherman, “despite what you just said, it's your life that's insecure, whereas my life is certain: I'm sure that I shan't have an accident.”

“Your life on the water is very dangerous and insecure,” said the woodcutter, “so how can you be so certain?”

“There's something you don't know,” said Zhang Shao. “Every day I give a golden carp to a fortune-teller on the West Gate Street in Chang'an, and he passes a slip into my sleeve telling me I'll catch something every time provided I go to the right place. I went to buy a forecast from him today, and he told me that if I cast my nets to the East of the bend in the Jing River and lowered my lines on the Western bank, I would be bound to get a full load of fish and shrimps to take home. Tomorrow I shall go into town to sell them to buy wine, and we can continue our talk then, brother.” With this they parted.

How true it is that if you talk on the road there will be someone listening in the grass. A patrolling yaksha from the Jing River Palace overheard Zhang Shao's remark about always catching fish and rushed straight back to the palace of crystal to make an urgent report of disaster to the dragon king.

“What disaster?” asked the dragon king, and the yaksha replied, “Your subject was patrolling in the water by the river's edge when I heard a fisherman and a woodcutter talking. Just when they were parting they sounded very dangerous. The fisherman said that there is a soothsayer on West Gate Street in Chang'an city whose predictions are very accurate. The fisherman gives him a golden carp every day, and he hands the fisherman a slip saying that he'll catch fish at every attempt. If his calculations are so accurate, won't all we water folk be wiped out? Shall we fortify the water palace, or shall we make some leaping waves to strengthen Your Majesty's prestige?”

The dragon king seized his sword in a great rage, intending to go straight to Chang'an city and destroy this fortune-teller, but then his dragon sons and grandsons, shrimp officials, crab soldiers, shad generals, mandarin-fish ministers, and carp premier submitted a joint memorial that read: “We beg Your Majesty not to act in anger. As the saying goes, 'words overheard are not to be trusted.' If Your Majesty were to go now you would have to be accompanied by clouds and helped by rain; and if this frightens the common people of Chang'an, Heaven may take offence. Your Majesty is capable of making all sorts of transformations, and of appearing and vanishing unexpectedly; so you should change into a scholar for this visit to Chang'an. If you find that it is true, you will be able to punish him at your leisure; and if it turns out to be false, you will avoid killing an innocent man.” Taking their advice, the dragon king put aside his sword, and without raising clouds or rain he climbed out on the back, shook himself, and turned into a scholar dressed in white. He was

Handsome and noble,

Towering into the clouds.

His step was stately

And he observed the rules of conduct.

In his speech he showed his respect for Confucius and Mencius,

His manners were those of the Duke of Zhou and King Wen.

He wore a gown of jade-green silk,

A cloth wrapped casually round his head.

Once on the road he strode straight to West Gate Street in Chang'an city, where he saw a crowd of people pushing and shouting. One of them was proclaiming grandiloquently, “He who was born under the Dragon will clash with the one who belongs to the Tiger. Although the cyclical characters are supposed to be in concordance, I'm afraid that the Year Planet may be offended by the Sun.” As soon as he heard this the dragon king knew that this was the place where fortunes were told, so he pushed through the crowds to look inside. He saw:

Four walls covered with pearls,

A room full of silken embroideries,

Incense ever rising from a burner,

Clear water in a porcelain pot.

On either side were paintings by Wang Wei;

High above the seat hung a picture of the Devil Valley Hermit.

An inkstone from Duanxi County,

“Golden smoke” ink,

On which leant a large brush of finest hairs;

A forest of fiery pearls,

The prediction of Guo Pu,

As he diligently compared them to the Tai Zheng Xin Jing.

He was deeply versed in the six lines of the diagrams,

A great expert on the Eight Trigrams.

He understood the principles of Heaven and Earth,

And saw into the feelings of gods and devils.

He knew all about the cyclical numbers,

And had a clear picture of the constellations.

He saw the events of the future,

The events of the past,

As if in a mirror.

Which house would rise,

Which house would fall,

He could tell with divine perception.

He knew when good and bad was coming,

Could predict death and survival.

His words hastened wind and rain;

When he wielded his writing-brush, gods and devils trembled.

His name was written on a signboard:

Master of Divination Yuan Shoucheng.

Who was he? He was Yuan Shoucheng, the uncle of Yuan Tiangang the Imperial Astrologer. He was famous throughout the country, and the leading member of his profession in Chang'an. The dragon king went in to see him, and when they had greeted each other he asked the dragon king to sit down, while a servant brought tea.

“What have you come to ask about, sir?” asked the soothsayer, and the dragon king replied, “I beg you to uncover the secrets of the sky for me.” The soothsayer passed him a slip of paper from his sleeve and said, “Clouds obscure the mountain peak, mist covers the tree tops. If there is to be rain, it will certainly come tomorrow.”

“When will it rain tomorrow,” asked the dragon king, “and how many inches of rain will fall?”

“Tomorrow the clouds will gather at mid-morning; late in the morning there will be thunder; at noon it will start to rain; and in the early afternoon the rain will finish, after 3 feet 3.48 inches have fallen,” replied the soothsayer.

“I trust that you are not fooling,” said the dragon king. “If it rains tomorrow at the time and to the depth you have predicted I shall pay you a fee of fifty pieces of gold. If it does not rain, or if it does not rain at the time and to the depth you say it will, then I'm telling you straight that I'll smash up your shopfront, tear down your sign and run you out of Chang'an so that you won't be able to deceive the people a moment longer.”

“That is entirely up to you,” replied the other cheerfully. “We shall meet again tomorrow after the rain.”

The dragon king took his leave and went back to his watery palace from Chang'an. The greater and lesser water spirits greeted him with the question, “How did Your Majesty's visit to the soothsayer go?”

“It was all right,” he replied, “but he was a smooth-tongued fortune-teller. When I asked him when it would rain, he said tomorrow. When I asked what time of day it would be and how much would fall, he said that at mid-morning the clouds would gather, late in the morning it would thunder, at noon it would start to rain, and early in the afternoon it would stop raining. He also said that 3 feet 3.48 inches of rain would fall. I made a wager with him that if his prediction turned out to be true, I'd give him fifty ounces of gold; but if he got it at all wrong, I'd smash up his shopfront id drive him out, so that he wouldn't be able to deceive the public any longer. The watery tribe laughed and said, “Your Majesty is the General Superintendent of the Eight Rivers and the Great Dragon God of the Rain, so only you can know whether there will be rain. How dare he talk such nonsense? That fortune-teller is bound to lose, absolutely bound to.”

Just as all the dragon sons and grandsons were laughing and talking about this with the fish ministers and crab soldiers a shout was heard from the sky: “Dragon King of the Jing River, prepare to receive an Imperial Decree.” They all looked up and saw a warrior in golden clothes coming towards the watery palace with a decree from the Jade Emperor in his hands. This alarmed the dragon king, who straightened his clothes, stood up solemnly, burnt incense and received the decree. The gold-clad warrior returned to the sky. Giving thanks for the imperial grace the dragon king opened the letter and read:

“We order the Superintendent of the Eight Rivers to travel with thunder and lightning and succor the city of Chang'an with rain.”

The time and the amount on the decree were exactly the same as those foretold by the soothsayer, which so startled the dragon king that he passed out. When he came round a moment later he said to the watery tribe, “How can there be a man of such powers in the mortal world? He is really someone who knows everything about Heaven and Earth-I'm bound to be beaten by him.”

“Your Majesty should not worry,” submitted General Shad in a memorial. “There will be no difficulty about beating him. Your subject has a humble plan that I can guarantee will shut that scoundrel's mouth.” When the dragon king asked what the plan was, the general replied, “Make it rain at the wrong time and not quite enough, so that his predictions are wrong, and then you will surely beat him. There will be nothing to stop you smashing his sign to smithereens and running him out of town.” The dragon king accepted his advice and stopped worrying.

The next day he ordered Viscount Wind, Duke Thunder, the Cloud Youth and Mother Lightning to go to the sky above the city of Chang'an. He waited till late in the morning before spreading the clouds, unleashed the thunder at noon, started the rain in the early afternoon, and stopped it in the late afternoon, when only three feet and 0.4 inches had fallen. He had thus changed the times by two hours and reduced the amount of rain by.08 inches. After the rain he dismissed his generals and his hosts and put away his clouds; then he changed back into a white-clad scholar and charged into Yuan Shoucheng's fortune-telling stall on West Gate Street. Without even asking for an explanation he smashed up Yuan's sign, his brush, his inkstone, and everything else, while the fortune-teller remained calmly in his chair without moving.

The dragon king brandished the door in the air, ready to hit him with it, and began to pour abuse on him: “You evil man, with all your reckless talk about blessings and disasters; you stinking deceiver of the masses. Your predictions are false, and you talk nonsense. You got the time and the amount of today's rain quite wrong, but you still sit there so high and mighty. Get out at once if you want me to spare your life.” Yuan Shoucheng, who was as calm and unfrightened as ever, looked up to the sky with a mocking smile.

“I'm not afraid,” he said, “I'm not afraid. I've committed no capital offence, but I fear that you have. You may be able to fool other people, but you can't fool me. I know who you are. You're no scholar; you're the Dragon King of the River Jing. You flouted a decree of the Jade Emperor by changing the time of the rain and cutting down the amount, which is a crime against the laws of Heaven. I'm afraid that you're for the executioner's blade on the Dragon-slicing Scaffold. Are you going to keep up that abuse of me?”

On hearing this the dragon king trembled from fear and his hair stood on end. Dropping the door at once he straightened his clothes and made gestures of submission, kneeling to the soothsayer and saying, “Please do not be angry with me, sir; I was only joking. I never thought that it would be taken seriously. Whatever am I to do if I have broken the laws of Heaven? I beg you to save me, sir. If you don't I shall haunt you after my death.”

“I can't save you,” replied Yuan Shoucheng, “but I can suggest one way by which you may be able to save your skin.”

“I beg you to tell me,” implored the dragon king.

“Tomorrow afternoon at half past one you will have to go to the office of the official in charge of personnel, Wei Zheng, to be beheaded. If you want to stay alive you must report at once to the present Tang Emperor, Taizong, as Wei Zheng is a minister of his; and if you can get him to speak for you, you will be all right.” The dragon king took his leave of the soothsayer with tears in his eyes and went away. The sun was setting in the West, and the moon and stars were coming out.

As clouds settle round the mountains the crows fly back to roost,

The travelers on long journeys find inns for the night.

The returning geese sleep on a sandbank by the ford,

As the Milky Way appears.

While the hours push on

A lamp in the lonely village burns with barely a flame.

Pure is the monastery as the reed smoke curls in the breeze;

Men disappear in the butterfly dream.

As the moon sinks, flower shadows climb the rails,

The stars are a jumble of light.

The hours are called,

The night is already half way through.

The Dragon King of the River Jing did not return to his watery palace but stayed in the sky until the small hours of the morning, when he put away his cloud and his mist horn, and went straight to the gate of the Imperial Palace. At this very moment the Tang Emperor dreamt that he went out of the palace gate to stroll among the flowers in the moonlight. The dragon king at once took human form, went up to him and knelt and bowed before him, crying, “Save me, Your Majesty, save me.”

“Who are you, that we should save you?” asked Taizong.

“Your Majesty is a true dragon,” replied the dragon king, “and I am a wicked dragon. As I have offended against the laws of Heaven, I am due to be beheaded by Your Majesty's illustrious minister Wei Zheng, the official in charge of personnel, so I have come to beg you to save me.”

“If you are supposed to be beheaded by Wei Zheng, we can save you, so set your mind at rest and go along now,” said the Tang Emperor. The dragon king, who was extremely happy, kowtowed in thanks and went away.

Taizong remembered his dream when he woke up. It was now half past four in the morning, so Taizong held court before the assembled civil and military officials.

Mist wreathed the palace gates,

Incense rose to the dragon towers.

In the shimmering light the silken screen moves,

As the clouds shake the imperial glory spreads.

Monarch and subject as faithful as Yao and Shun,

Imposing music and ritual rivaling Zhou and Han.

Pages hold lanterns,

Palace women hold fans,

In brilliant pairs.

Pheasant screens,

Unicorn halls,

Shimmering everywhere.

As the call “Long Live the Emperor” goes up,

The Empress is wished a thousand autumns.

When the Rod of Silence descends three times,

The uniformed officials bow to the emperor.

The brightly coloured palace flowers have a heavenly scent;

The delicate willows on the bank sing royal songs.

Pearl curtains,

Jade curtains,

Are hung high from golden hooks;

Dragon and phoenix fans,

Landscape fans,

Rest by the royal chariot.

Elegant are the civil officials,

Vigorous the generals.

By the Imperial Way high and low are divided;

They stand by rank beneath the palace steps.

The ministers with their purple corded seals ride three elephants.

May the Emperor live as long as Heaven and Earth!

When the officials had all done homage they divided into their groups. The Tang Emperor looked at them one by one with his dragon and phoenix eyes. Among the civil officials he observed Fang Xuanling, Du Ruhui, Xu Shiji, Xu Jingzong, Wang Gui and others; and among the military officers he saw Ma Sanbao, Duan Zhixian, Yin Kaishan, Cheng Yaojin, Liu Hongji, Hu Jingde, and Qin Shubao among others. Every one of them was standing there solemnly and with dignity, but he could not see Minister Wei Zheng among them.

He summoned Xu Shiji into the palace hall and said to him, “We had a strange dream last night in which a man came and bowed to us, claiming that he was the Dragon King of the River Jing. He had broken the laws of Heaven, and was due to be beheaded by the official in the personnel department, Wei Zheng. He begged us to save him, and we agreed. Why is it that the only official missing at court today is Wei Zheng?”

“If this dream is true,” replied Xu Shiji, “Wei Zheng must be summoned to the palace, and Your Majesty must not let him out of doors. Once today is over the Dragon King will be saved.” The Tang Emperor was overjoyed and he sent a personal aide with a decree summoning Wei Zheng to court.

That night the minister Wei Zheng had been reading the stars in his residence and was just burning some precious incense when he heard a crane calling in the sky. It was a messenger from Heaven with a decree from the Jade Emperor ordering him to behead the Dragon King of the River Jing in a dream at half past one the following afternoon. The minister thanked Heaven for its grace, fasted and bathed himself, tried out the sword of his wisdom, and exercised his soul. This was why he did not go to court. When the imperial aide came with a summons he was frightened and nonplussed; but he did not dare to delay in obeying an order from his monarch, so he hurriedly tidied his clothes, tightened his belt, and went to the palace with the summons in his hands. He kowtowed to the Emperor and admitted his fault.

“We forgive you,” said the Emperor. The officials had not yet withdrawn, so the Emperor now ordered the curtains to be lowered and dismissed them. The only one of them he kept behind was Wei Zheng, whom he ordered to mount the golden chariot and come to his private quarters with him, where they discussed the policies to bring peace and stability to the country.

At about noon he ordered the palace ladies to bring a large weiqi chess set and said, “We shall now have a game of chess.” The Imperial concubines brought in a chess board and set it on the Emperor's table. Thanking the Tang Emperor for his grace, Wei Zheng started to play with him. As each moved in turn they built up their lines of battle. It was just as the Chess Classic says:

The Way of chess:

The best place is the middle of the board,

The worst is the side,

And the comers are neither good nor bad.

This is the eternal law of chess.

The law says:

“It is better to lose a piece

Than to lose the initiative.

When you are struck on the left, look to the right,

When attacked in the rear, keep an eye on your front.

Sometimes the leader is really behind,

Sometimes the laggard is really ahead.

If you have two 'live' areas do not let them be severed;

If you can survive as you are, do not link up.

Do not spread yourself out too thinly,

Do not crowd your pieces too closely.

Rather than being niggardly with your pieces,

Lose them and win the game.

Rather than moving for no reason,

It is better to strengthen your position.

When he has many and you have few,

Concentrate on survival;

When you have many and he has few,

Extend your positions.

The one who is good at winning does not have to struggle;

The one who draws up a good position does not have to fight;

The one who fights well does not lose;

The one who loses well is not thrown into confusion.

Open your game with conventional gambits,

And end by winning with surprise attacks.

When the enemy strengthens himself for no apparent reason,

He is planning to attack and cut you off.

When he abandons small areas and does not rescue them

His ambitions are great.

The man who places his pieces at random

Has no plans;

The man who responds without thinking

Is heading for defeat.

The Book of Songs says:

“Be cautious and careful

As if you were walking on the edge of a precipice.'

This is what it means.”

There is a poem that goes:

The board is the Earth, the chessmen Heaven,

The colours, Positive and Negative,

When you reach that subtle state when all the changes become clear,

You can laugh and brag about the chess-playing Immortals.

As sovereign and minister played their game of chess it was half past one. Although the game was not over, Wei Zheng slumped down beside the table and started to snore, fast asleep.

“Worthy Minister,” said Taizong with a smile, “you have exhausted your mind in strengthening the country and tired yourself out building the empire; that is why you have fallen asleep without realizing it.” The Emperor said no more and let him sleep. Not long afterwards Wei Zheng woke up, prostrated himself on the floor, and said, “Your subject deserves ten thousand deaths. I fell asleep without knowing what I was doing, and I beg Your Majesty to forgive your subject's criminal discourtesy to his sovereign.”

“What criminal discourtesy have you committed?” the Emperor asked. “Rise, and take the Pieces off the board so that we may start again.” Wei Zheng thanked him for his grace, and was just taking the pieces in his hand when he heard shouting outside the palace gates. Qin Shubao, Xu Maogong and some others brought in a dragon's head dripping with blood, threw it to the floor in front of the Emperor, and reported, “Your Majesty,

Seas have gone shallow and rivers have run dry,

But such a sight as this was never seen by human eye.”

The Emperor and Wei Zheng rose to their feet and asked where it had come from.

“This dragon's head fell from a cloud at the crossroads at the end of the Thousand Yard Portico, and your humble subjects dared not fail to report it,” said Qin Shubao and Xu Maogong.

“What does this mean?” the Tang Emperor asked Wei Zheng in astonishment.

“Your subject beheaded it in a dream just now,” replied Wei Zheng, kowtowing.

“But I never saw you move your hand or body when you were dozing,” said the shocked Emperor, “and you had no sword, so how could you have beheaded it?”

“My lord,” replied Wei Zheng, “your subject

Was bodily in your presence,

But far away in my dream.

I was bodily in your presence reaching the end of a game.

When I shut my eyes and felt drowsy;

I went far away in my dream, riding a magic cloud,

Bursting with energy.

That dragon

Was on the Dragon-slicing Scaffold

Where he had been tied by the officers and soldiers of Heaven.

Then your minister said,

'You have broken the laws of Heaven,

And deserve the death penalty.

I bear a heavenly mandate

To behead you.'

When the dragon heard he was bitterly grieved;

Your subject marshalled his spirits.

When the dragon heard he was bitterly grieved,

Pulled in his claws, laid down his scales and gladly prepared to die.

Your subject marshalled his spirits,

Hitched up his clothes, stepped forward and raised the blade.

With a snick the sword came down,

And the dragon's head fell into the void.”

Emperor Taizong's feelings on hearing this were mixed. On the one hand he was happy, because he was proud of having so good a minister as Wei Zheng; for with a hero like that in his court he needed to have no worries about the safety of the empire. On the other hand he was distressed, because although he had promised in his dream to save the dragon, it had been executed. He had no choice but to pull himself together and order Qin Shubao to hang the dragon's head up in the market place as a warning to the common people of Chang'an. He also rewarded Wei Zheng, and then all the officials dispersed.

When he returned to the palace that evening, the Emperor was depressed as he remembered how the dragon had wept so bitterly in his dream, begging to be saved. Yet the dragon had been unable to avoid its doom. After brooding over this for a long time he felt more and more exhausted and uneasy. In the second watch of the night he heard sobbing outside the palace gates, which made him more frightened than ever. As he lay in a fitful sleep, the dragon king of the River Jing reappeared, this time holding a head dripping with blood in his hands.

“Emperor Taizong of the Tang,” he shouted, “give me back my life, give me back my life. Last night you were full of promises to save me, so why did you double-cross me yesterday and order Wei Zheng, the official in charge of personnel, to behead me? Come out, come out, and we shall go to the King of Hell's place to have this out.” He pulled at the Emperor's clothes and would not stop shouting. Taizong could find nothing to say, and struggled so hard to get away that he was pouring with sweat. Just at this most awkward moment he saw fragrant clouds and coloured mists to the South. A female Immortal came forward and waved a willow twig, at which the headless dragon went off to the Northwest, weeping pitifully. This Immortal was the Bodhisattva Guanyin, who had come to the East in obedience to the Buddha's decree to find the man to fetch the scriptures. She was now staying in the temple of the tutelary god of Chang'an, and when she heard the devilish howling she came to chase away the wicked dragon. The dragon then went down to Hell to submit a full report.

When Taizong woke up he shouted, “A ghost, a ghost!” The empresses of the three palaces, the imperial consorts and concubines of the six compounds, the attendants and the eunuchs were all so terrified by this that they lay awake trembling for the rest of the night. Before long it was half past four, and all the military and civil officials were waiting for the morning court outside the palace gates. When dawn came and the Emperor had still not come to court they were so frightened that they did not know what to do.

It was not till the sun was high in the sky that a decree was brought out that read, “As our mind is not at ease all the officials are excused court.” Six or seven days quickly passed, and all the officials were so anxious that they wished they could rush to the palace gates to see the Emperor and ask after his health, but all that happened was that the Empress issued a decree summoning the royal doctors to the palace to administer medicine. Crowds of officials gathered at the palace gates waiting for news, and when the doctors came out a little later they asked what the matter was.

“His Majesty's pulse in not as it should be: it is both faint and fast. He murmurs deliriously about having seen a ghost. His pulse stops every ten beats. His five viscera lack all spirit, and I am afraid that the worst must be expected within seven days.” The officials went pale from shock.

Amid all the panic it was learned that Taizong had sent for Xu Maogong, the Duke Protector Qin Shubao, and Lord Yuchi Jingde. When the three lords received the decree they hurried to the lower story of the side palace. When they had bowed to him, a serious-faced Taizong spoke forcefully to them.

“Illustrious ministers,” he said, “we started to command troops at the age of nineteen, and had many hard years of fighting from then on, conquering the North and the South, defending in the East, and wiping out our enemies in the West; but never once did we see anything sinister or evil. Yet now we are seeing ghosts.”

“Your Majesty has founded an empire and slaughtered men beyond number, so why should you be scared of ghosts?” asked Lord Yuchi.

“You don't believe us,” the Emperor replied, “but outside our bedroom door at night bricks and tiles fly about and the ghosts and demons howl. It is really terrible. Daytime is passable, but the nights are unbearable.”

“Don't worry, Your Majesty,” said Qin Shubao. “Tonight I and Yuchi Jingde shall guard the palace doors to see whether there are any ghosts or not.” Taizong agreed to his suggestion, and after thanking him for his kindness Xu Maogong and the other two generals withdrew. That evening the two of them put on their equipment and took up their positions outside the palace gates in full armour and helmet, with golden maces and battle-axes in their hands. Look how these splendid generals were dressed:

On their heads were golden helmets bright,

On their bodies was armour like dragon scales.

Magic clouds glisten in front of their Heart-protecting Mirrors;

Their lion coats are tightly buckled.

Fresh are the colours of their embroidered belts.

One looks up to the sky with his phoenix eyes, and the stars tremble;

The other's eyes flash lightning and dim the moonlight.

These true heroes and distinguished ministers

Will be called gate-protectors for a thousand years

And serve as door-gods for ten thousand ages.

The two generals stood beside the doors till deep into the night, and not a single demon did they see. That night Taizong slept peacefully in the palace and nothing happened. When morning came he called the two generals in and gave them rich rewards.

“We had not been able to sleep for several days since we fell ill,” he said, “but last night was very peaceful, thanks to the awesome might of you two generals. Please go and rest now so that you can guard us again tonight.” The two generals thanked him and left. For the next two or three nights they stood guard and all was quiet; but the Emperor ate less and less as his illness took a turn for the worse. Not wishing to put the two generals to any more trouble, he summoned them to the palace with Du Ruhui and Fang Xuanling.

These were the instructions he gave them: “Although we have enjoyed peace for the last two days, we are unhappy about the night-long ordeals we have imposed on Generals Qin and Yuchi. We therefore wish to commission two skilled painters to make faithful portraits of the two generals to paste on the doors so that they may be saved trouble. What do you think?” In obedience to the imperial decree the officials chose two men who could draw a good likeness, and the two generals wore their armour as before while they were painted. Then the pictures were stuck on the doors, and there was no trouble that night.

The next two or three days were peaceful too but then the Emperor heard bricks and tiles banging and crashing once again at the Hou Zai Gate. He summoned his officials at dawn and said, “There has, thank goodness, been no trouble at the front gates for several days now, but there were noises at the back gates last night that practically scared me to death.” Xu Maogong went forward and submitted this suggestion: “When there was trouble at the front gates Yuchi Jingde and Qin Shubao protected Your Majesty. Now there is trouble at the back gates Wei Zheng should be ordered to stand guard.”

Taizong approved his suggestion, and ordered Wei Zheng to stand guard at the back gates that night. Wei Zheng received the edict, and that night he put on his best clothes, belted himself tightly, and took up his vigil outside the Hou Zai Gate. He was a true hero. He wore

A black band of silk around his forehead,

A brocade gown loosely belted with jade.

His hood and billowing sleeves caught the frost and dew,

And he looked more ferocious than the ghost-quellers Shenshu and Yul ti.

On his feet he wore black boots for motionless movement;

In his hand he wielded a keen-edged blade with great ferocity.

He looked around with glaring eyes:

What evil spirit would have dared approach?

No devils were seen all night, but although nothing happened at the front or back gates the Emperor's condition still deteriorated. One day the Empress Dowager issued an edict summoning the officials to discuss funeral arrangements. Taizong sent for Xu Maogong and gave him orders about affairs of state, instructing him to look after the heir to the throne in the way that Liu Bei, the ruler of Shu, had instructed Zhuge Liang. When he had finished speaking he was bathed and put into clean clothes. All he had to do now was to wait for the end. Then in rushed Wei Zheng, who grabbed hold of his dragon robes and said, “Do not worry, Your Majesty. I can ensure Your Majesty long life.”

“The disease has reached my heart,” replied the Emperor, “and my life will end at any moment now, so how can you save it?”

“Your subject has a letter here,” said Wei Zheng, “that I am offering to Your Majesty to take with you to the underworld and give to Cui Jue, the judge of Fengdu.”

“Who is this Cui Jue?” asked the Emperor.

“He was one of the officers of Your Majesty's exalted predecessor. From being magistrate of Cizhou he was promoted to be vice-president of the Ministry of Rites. When he was alive he and I were close friends. Now that he is dead he is in charge of the Registers of Birth and Death in the underworld as judge of Fengdu, and he often comes to see me in my dreams. If you take this letter with you on your journey and give it to him, he is bound to allow Your Majesty to come back out of consideration for your humble subject. I can guarantee that Your Majesty's soul will return to the sunlight, and the dragon countenance will certainly return to the imperial capital.” Taizong took the letter and put it in his sleeve, then he shut his eyes in death. The empresses, consorts and imperial concubines of the three palaces and the six compounds, the palace servants, the heir to the throne, and the civil and military officials all grieved and dressed in mourning. The imperial coffin lay in state in the White Tiger Hall.

If you don't know how Taizong came back to life, listen to the explanation in the next chapter.