Journey to the West (vol. 1)

Chapter 23

Sanzang Does Not Forget the Basic

The Four Holy Ones Have Their Piety Tested

Long is the road as they travel West;

In the rustling autumn breeze the frost-killed flowers fall.

The cunning ape is firmly chained-do not untie him;

The wicked horse is tightly reined-don't whip him on.

The Mother of Wood and Father of Metal were originally combined;

Between the Yellow Mother and the Red Babe there was no difference.

When the iron pill is bitten open, truth is revealed;

The Prajna-paramita has reached that person.

Although this book is about the journey to fetch the scriptures, it never leaves the subject of how the individual strives for the basic. The four of them, having understood the truth, shaken off the chains of the mortal world, and leapt away from the flowing sands of the sea of nature, headed along the main road West free of all impediment. They crossed blue mountains and green rivers, and saw no end of wild flowers. The time flew by, and before long it was autumn. They saw:

Hills covered with red maple leaves,

Yellow chrysanthemums braving the evening breeze,

Aging cicadas singing with less vigor,

Autumn crickets longing for the days of plenty.

The lotus was losing its green silken leaves,

The fragrant orange tree was massed with golden globes.

Lines of wild geese, alas,

Spread out like dots across the distant sky.

As they were travelling along one day, evening drew in, and Sanzang said, “Where are we going to sleep, disciples, now that it's getting late?”

“That's not the right thing to say, master,” said Monkey. “We monks are supposed to eat the wind and drink the rain, and sleep under the moon and in the frost. Our home is wherever we are. So why ask where we're going to sleep?”

“You may think that you've had an easy journey,” said Pig, “but you don't give a damn about other people being tired. Ever since we crossed the Flowing Sands River we've been going over mountain ranges, and this heavy load has fairly worn me out. We've got to find a house where we can beg some tea and food and have a good rest-it's only fair.”

“It sounds to me, idiot, as though you're having regrets,” said Monkey. “I'm afraid you can't have such an easy life now as you did back in Gao Village. If you want to be a monk, you have to suffer-it's the only way of being a true disciple.”

“How heavy do you think this load is?” Pig asked.

“I haven't carried it since you and Friar Sand joined us, so how should I know?” Monkey replied.

“Just add it up,” said Pig. “There are

Four bundles wrapped in yellow bamboo mats,

Eight ropes of assorted lengths.

Then, to keep out rain and damp,

Three or four layers of felt around it

The carrying-pole is terrible slippery

With nails at either end.

Then there's a bronze and iron nine-ringed staff

And a cape made of bamboo and creeper.

With all this luggage to carry day after day of course I find the going heavy. While you're allowed to be the master's disciple, I'm treated as a hired hand.”

“Who do you think you're talking to, idiot?” Monkey asked.

“I'm talking to you, elder brother,” said Pig.

“You shouldn't be complaining about this to me,” Monkey replied. “My job is to look after the master's safety, while you and Friar Sand look after the horse and the luggage. And if there's any slacking from you, you'll feel a heavy stick about you ankles.”

“Don't threaten me with a beating, brother,” said Pig, “that would be bullying. I know that you're too high and mighty to carry the luggage, but the master's horse is a big, sturdy animal to be carrying only one old monk. I'd be very happy if it could carry a few pieces of luggage.”

“Do you think he's a horse?” Monkey asked. “He's no ordinary horse. He was the son of Ao Run, the Dragon King of the Western Sea, and his name is Prince Dragon-horse. Because he burnt the palace pearls his father reported on him as an offender against the Heavenly Code. Luckily for him, his life saved by the Bodhisattva Guanyin, and he waited a long time for the master in the Eagle's Sorrow Gorge. He was honoured by another visit from the Bodhisattva, who took off his scales and horns, removed the pearls from under his neck, and turned him into this horse, which has sworn to carry the master to the Western Heaven to visit the Buddha. This is a matter of him winning merit for himself, so you'd better leave him alone.”

“Is he really a dragon?” asked Friar Sand when he heard this.

“Yes,” Monkey replied.

“I've heard an old saying,” Pig remarked, “that dragons can breathe out clouds, make the dust and sand fly, pull mountain ranges up by their roots, and turn oceans upside down. How is it that he's moving so slowly now?”

“If you want to see him go fast,” Monkey replied, “I'll make him go fast for you.” The splendid Great Sage gripped his iron cudgel, and countless luminous clouds sprang from it. When the horse saw him grab the cudgel he thought he was going to be hit with it, and in his terror he shot off at the speed of lightning. Sanzang was too weak to rein him in as the equine dashed up the mountainside for all his evil nature was worth before he slackened his pace. When Sanzang began to get his breath back, he looked up and saw some fine houses in the shade of a bamboo grove:

Cypresses were bending over the gates

Of the houses near the blue mountain.

There were several spreading pines

And some molded bamboo.

Wild chrysanthemum outside the fence, beautiful in the frost;

The orchid by the bridge reflected red in the water.

A whitewashed, plastered wall

Surrounded it.

Handsome was the lofty hall,

Peaceful the main building.

There was no sign of oxen or sheep, or chickens, or dogs;

It seemed to be the slack season after harvest.

Sanzang stopped the horse to take a longer look, and then he saw Monkey and the others arrive. “You didn't fall off the horse, master?” asked Monkey.

“You gave this horse a terrible fright, you filthy ape,” Sanzang said, “but I kept my seat.”

“Don't tell me off, master,” said Monkey, putting on a smile. “It was only because Pig said the horse was going too slowly that I made him speed up a bit.”

The blockhead Pig, who had been running quite fast after the horse, was puffing and panting as he mumbled, “Enough of this. When you're bent double you can't relax. Although I'm carrying a load so heavy I can't pick it up, you make me go running after the horse.”

“Disciple,” said Sanzang, “do you see the farm over there? Let's ask if we can spend the night there.” Monkey immediately looked up, saw that the sky above it was full of clouds of blessing, and knew that the farm had been miraculously produced by the Buddha or some Immortals.

Not daring to give away the secrets of Heaven, however, he only said, “Splendid, splendid, let's ask if we can lodge there.” Dismounting from his horse, Sanzang saw a gate-house with pillars like elephants' trunks and beams that had been painted and carved.

Friar Sand put down the carrying-pole and Pig said as he held the horse, “This is a very wealthy house.”

Monkey was on the point of going in when Sanzang said, “No, we men of religion should avoid incurring suspicion. You mustn't go charging in. We should wait till somebody comes out and then ask politely for lodging.” Pig tethered the horse at the sloping base of the wall while Sanzang sat on a stone stool, and Friar Sand and Monkey sat beside the steps. When nobody appeared for a long time Monkey jumped up impatiently and went through the gate to have a look. He saw a large hall facing South whose tall windows were shaded with bamboo curtains. Over the doorway dividing the inner and outer parts of the house was a horizontal landscape painting symbolizing long life and blessings, and on the gold-painted columns flanking the door was pasted a pair of scrolls reading:

“The tender willow leaves sway in the evening by the bridge;

When the plum-blossom looks like snowflakes it is spring in the courtyard.

In the middle of the room was an incense table whose black lacquer had been polished, an ancient animal-shaped bronze incense-burner standing on it, and six chairs. Pictures of the four seasons were hung on the walls at either end of the hall.

As Monkey was peeping inside he heard footsteps from behind the door at the back. A woman, neither old nor young, came out, and asked in a charming voice, “Who has forced his way into this widow's house of mine?”

The Great Sage hastened to greet her respectfully and say, “I am a humble monk from the Great Tang in the East, under imperial orders to go to the West to worship the Buddha and ask for the scriptures. There are four of us altogether, and since our journey has brought us this way as evening is drawing in, we have come to your mansion, divine patroness, to beg for a night's lodging.”

She returned his greeting with a smile and said, “Where are the other three gentlemen, venerable sir?” at which Monkey shouted, “Master, come in.” Sanzang, Pig and Friar Sand then came in, bringing the horse and the luggage with them. As the woman came out of the hall to welcome them, Pig stole a glance at her with greedy eyes.

She wore a green silk gown,

And over it a pale red jacket;

A skirt of yellow brocade,

Below which showed thick-soled shoes.

Her fashionable coiffure was veiled in black,

Which suited her graying locks, coiled like a dragon;

Palace-style ivory combs shone with red and green,

And two golden pins adorned her hair.

Her half-grey tresses soared like a phoenix in flight,

Two rows of pearls hung from her ear-rings.

Free of powder and paint, her beauty was natural;

She was as attractive as a younger girl.

When she saw the three others she was more pleased than ever, and she invited them into the main room. When all the introductions had been made, she asked them to sit down and have some tea. A servant girl with her hair in plaits came in through the door leading to the back of the house; she was carrying a golden tray on which were set white jade cups of steaming hot tea as well as exotic fruits that smelt delicious. Her sleeves were wide, and with her fingers as slender as bamboo shoots in spring she handed each of them a jade bowl and bowed. When the tea had been drunk, the mistress ordered a meatless meal to be prepared.

“What is your name, venerable Bodhisattva?” asked Sanzang, spreading out his hands. “And what is this place called?”

“This is the Western Continent of Cattle-gift, or Godaniya,” she replied. “My maiden name is Jia and my husband's name was Mo. In my childhood I had the misfortune of losing both my parents, and I married to continue the ancestral enterprise. Our family is worth ten thousand strings of cash, and we own fifteen thousand acres of good arable land. We were not fated to be given sons, and we only had three daughters. The year before last I suffered the great misfortune of losing my husband. I have remained a widow, and this year I have come out of mourning. There are no other relations to inherit the family estate besides myself and my daughters. I would like to remarry, but not at the price of abandoning the estate. Now that you have come here, venerable sir, with your three disciples, I think it should be you. I and my three daughters want to marry while staying at home, and you four gentlemen would suit us nicely. I wonder if you would be prepared to consent.” Sanzang sat there pretending to be deaf and dumb, with his eyes shut and his mind kept calm. He made no reply.

“We have over four thousand acres each of irrigated land, dry land, and orchards on hillsides,” she continued, “as well as over a thousand head of oxen and water buffalo, herds of mules and horses, and more pigs and sheep than you could count. There are sixty or seventy farm buildings and barns. We have more grain in the house than we could eat in eight or nine years, and more than enough silk to clothe us for a decade-to say nothing of more gold and silver than you could spend in a lifetime. You'll be even better off than those ancients who 'stored spring behind brocade curtains' and kept girls whose 'hair was heavy with golden pins'. If you and your disciples are prepared to change your minds and live in this house as our husbands, you can enjoy wealth and ease. Wouldn't that be better than a difficult journey to the West?” Sanzang sat there silent, as if he were an imbecile.

“I was born at the hour you of the third day of the third month of the year dinghai, ”she continued. “My late husband was three years older than me, and I am now forty-four. My eldest daughter, Zhenzhen, is nineteen; my second, Aiai is seventeen; and Lianlian, the youngest, is fifteen. None of them have been betrothed. Although I am rather ugly myself, the girls are all quite good-looking, and they have all the feminine accomplishments. As my late husband had no sons, he gave them a boy's education, teaching them to read the Confucian classics from an early age and training them to recite poems and make couplets. Although they live in this mountain farmhouse you couldn't consider them boorish, and I think that they would be good partners for all you reverend gentlemen. If you are willing to broaden your outlook and let your hair grow, you could be head of the family and wear silks and brocades. Wouldn't that be far better than your earthenware begging-bowl, rough clothes, straw sandals, and rain-hats?”

Sanzang sat in the place of honour as still as a child terrified by thunder or a toad soaked in a rainstorm. He seemed to be in a trance as he leant back with his eyes turned up towards the sky. Pig, however, felt an itch in his mind that was hard to scratch when he heard about all this wealth and beauty. He fidgeted on his chair as if needles were being stuck into his backside, and finally could bear it no longer.

He went up to his master, tugged at his clothes, and said, “Master, why are you paying no attention to what the lady is saying? You really ought to take some notice.” Sanzang glared at him angrily, made a furious noise, and shouted at him to go away.

“Evil beast,” he said, “We are men of religion. It's disgraceful to allow yourself to be moved by the thought of wealth, honour or sex.”

“Poor, poor things,” said the woman with a smile. “What good can there be in being men of religion?”

“What good can there be in being of the world, Bodhisattva?” Sanzang replied.

“Please sit down, reverend sir, while I tell you about the advantages of being in the world,” she said. “There is a poem to describe them that goes:

In spring we cut out linked diamond patterns and wear new silk;

In summer we change to light gauze and admire the lotus;

In autumn comes meat and delicious rice-wine,

In winter the house is warm, and our faces are red with drink.

We have all that's needed in the four seasons,

The treasures and delicacies of the whole year.

Brocade clothes, silken sheets and a wedding night

Are better than plodding along and worshipping Maitreya.”

“Bodhisattva,” said Sanzang, “it is, of course, very good to enjoy wealth and honour with plenty of food and clothes and a family. But what you don't realize is that the religious life has advantages, which are described in this poem:

It is no light matter to decide to enter religion:

You have to demolish the love and gratitude you felt before.

Externals are created no longer, and your mouth is tightly shut.

Negative and positive exist within your body.

When all has been achieved, you face the golden gates;

See your nature, clarify your mind, and return home.

This is better than staying in the world to be greedy for blood and food

While your stinking flesh grows aged and decrepit.”

“You insolent monk,” the woman said in great anger. “If it weren't for the fact that you've come a long, long way from the East. I'd drive you out of my house. I invite you four with all sincerity to marry us and enjoy our wealth, and you repay my kindness with insults. If you have accepted the prohibitions and made your vows, you could at least let me have one of your underlings as a son-in-law. Why are you being such a stickler for the rules?”

As she had lost her temper, Sanzang had to soothe her, so he said, “Monkey, you stay here.”

“I've never been able to do that sort of thing,” Monkey replied.

“Why not let Pig stay?”

“Stop teasing, elder brother,” Pig said. “We should all decide what's the best thing to do.”

“If neither of you will stay, I must ask Friar Sand to stay,” said Sanzang; but Friar Sand replied, “What a thing to say, master. I was converted by the Bodhisattva, agreed to obey the prohibitions, and waited till you came, and since taking me as your disciple you've taught me more. I haven't been with you for two months yet, and I've had no time to win any merit at all. How could I possibly want wealth and position? I want to go to the Western Heaven even if it costs me my life, and I'm certainly not going to frustrate my hopes by doing that.” In the face of their refusals the woman turned round, went out through the door leading to the back of the house, and slammed it behind her, leaving master and disciples outside with neither food nor tea. Nobody else came out to see them.

“That's not the way to handle things, master,” grumbled an angry Pig. “You should have been more flexible and given her some noncommittal answer, then you'd have got some food out of her. That way we'd have eaten well tonight, but would still have been able to refuse to marry them in the morning. We're going to have a lousy night with nothing to eat if that inside door is shut and nobody comes out to us.”

“Brother Pig, you should stay here and marry one of the girls,” said Friar Sand.

“Lay off me,” Pig replied. “We must decide what's the best thing to do.”

“Why bother?” said Monkey. “If you want to marry one of them, you'll make our master and the woman in-laws, and you can be a husband living with his in-laws. A family as rich as this is bound to give a good dowry, as well as a feast for relations which will do us all a bit of good. So it's in all our interests for you to return to worldly life here.”

“It sounds all right,” said Pig, “but it would mean going back to the world after leaving it, and marrying again after ending another marriage.”

“Did you have a wife before, then?” asked Friar Sand.

“So you still don't know,” said Monkey, “that he used to be the son-in-law of Squire Gao in Gao Village in the land of Stubet. After I defeated him and the Bodhisattva converted him and made him promise to observe the prohibitions, we managed to force him to become a monk. So he left his wife and joined our master for the journey to the Buddha in the West. I think that now he's been away from her for so long he's remembering all that business again. When he heard this woman's offer, it revived his old ideas. Blockhead,” he continued, addressing Pig, “marry into this family as a son-in-law. I won't report on you provided you bow to me a few times.”

“Nonsense, Nonsense,” said Pig. “You've all been thinking the same thoughts, but you pick on me to make an exhibition of. It's always said that 'a monk among pretty women is a hungry ghost,' and that goes for all of us. But by acting so high and mighty you've ruined our chances of doing well here. We haven't cast our eyes on so much as a cup of tea, and there isn't even anyone to light the lamps for us. We may be able to stick it out for a night, but that horse will have to carry our master again tomorrow, and if he gets nothing to eat all night he'll collapse. You lot sit here while I take him out for a feed.” He untied the animal and dragged it out in a great hurry, at which Monkey said, “Friar Sand, you sit here with the master while I follow him and see where he pastures that horse.”

“If you want to keep an eye on him, you may do so,” Sanzang said, “but don't play any tricks on him.”

“I understand,” said Monkey, and as he went out of the room he shook himself, turned into a red dragonfly, flew out of the main gate, and caught up with Pig.

Instead of letting the horse eat what grass there was, the blockhead chivied and dragged it round to the back door of the house, where he saw the woman and her three daughters admiring some chrysanthemums. When they saw Pig coming, the three girls rushed inside, while their mother remained standing in front of him.

“Where are you going, reverend sir?” she asked. The idiot dropped the horse's bridle, greeted her respectfully, and said, “I'm pasturing the horse, mother.”

“That master of yours is too prim and proper,” she said. “Wouldn't you rather marry here than go on plodding West as a travelling monk?”

“They're under orders from the Tang Emperor,” Pig replied with a grin, “and are too scared of disobeying him to do a thing like this. When they put the pressure on me in the hall just now I was in a very awkward spot. I hope you don't mind about my long snout and big ears.”

“I don't mind,” she said, “as long as we can have a man about the house, though my girls might not find you very attractive.”

“Tell your girls not to be so particular about a husband,” said Pig. “That Tang Priest may be very handsome, but he's completely useless. Although I'm as ugly as they come, I have something to say for myself.”

“What would that be?” she asked. His reply was:

“I may be not much to look at,

But I certainly get things done.

Fifteen thousand acres

I can plough without an ox.

Just by using my rake

I plant crops that come up well.

I can summon rain in a drought,

Call up a wind when there's none.

If you find your house too small,

I can add two more stories, or three.

If the ground needs sweeping, I'll sweep it;

If the ditches are blocked, I'll make them run.

I can do all sorts of household jobs.

And perform miscellaneous duties in the home.”

“Very well then,” she said, “if you can manage the work about the place you'd better go and talk it over with your master. If there are no problems, then you can marry one of the girls.”

“There's no need to talk it over with him,” Pig said. “He's not my father or mother, and it's entirely up to me whether I do it or not.”

“Very well then,” she said, “Wait while I tell the girls.” With that she went in and shut the door behind her. Pig still did not let the horse graze but dragged it round towards the front of the house.

Unbeknown to him, Monkey, who knew all about what had happened, flew back, changed back into his own form, and said to the Tang Priest, “Master, Pig is leading the horse back.”

“If he hadn't led it, it might have got excited and run away,” Sanzang said, at which Monkey burst out laughing and told him all about what had taken place between Pig and the woman. Sanzang did not know whether to believe him or not. A moment later the blockhead led the horse in and tethered it.

“Have you grazed the horse?” Sanzang asked.

“I couldn't find any grass that was good enough,” said Pig, “so I couldn't graze it.”

“You may not have been able to graze the horse,” said Monkey, “but you managed do some horse-trading.” This jibe made the idiot realize that the cat was out of the bag, so he hung his head and did not say a word. There was a creak as a side door opened and the woman and her three daughters-Zhenzhen, Aiai and Lianlian-came in with a pair of lamps glowing red and two portable incense burners from which sweet-smelling smoke curled up as the jade ornaments at their waists tinkled. The three girls greeted the pilgrims, standing in a row in the middle of the room and bowing. They were undoubtedly beauties:

All had moth-eyebrows glistening blue,

Pale and spring-like faces.

Seductive beauties who could tumble kingdoms,

Disturbing men's hearts with their quiet charm.

Elegant were their ornaments of golden flowers;

Their embroidered sashes floated above the worldly dust.

Their half-smile was a bursting cherry;

Their breath was perfumed as they walked with slow steps.

Their hair was covered with pearls and jade.

Trembling under countless jeweled ornaments;

Their whole bodies were fragrant,

Covered with delicate flowers of gold.

Why mention the beauty of the woman of Chu,

Or the charms of Xi Zi?

They really were like fairies from the Ninth Heaven,

Or the Lady of the Moon coming out of her palace.

While Sanzang put his hands together and bowed his head the Great Sage pretended not to notice and Friar Sand turned away. But Pig gazed at them with a fixed stare, his mind seething with lewd thoughts as his lust overwhelmed him.

“Thank you, divine angels, for coming to see us,” he said, fidgeting, “but could you ask the girls to go, please, mother?” The three girls went out through the door, leaving a pair of gauze-shielded lanterns behind them.

“Will you four reverend gentlemen please decide which of you is to marry one of the girls?” the woman said.

“We've already made up our minds that Mr. Pig is to be your son-in-law,” Friar Sand replied.

“Don't pick on me, brother,” said Pig, “we should discuss this together.”

“No need to,” said Monkey. “You've already fixed everything up at the back door and called her 'mother,' so there's nothing to discuss. Our master can represent the groom's family, this lady is the bride's family, I can be best man, and Friar Sand can be the matchmaker. There's no need to bother with the usual exchange of letters, and today is a most auspicious one full of heavenly grace, so bow to the master and go in to be her son-in-law.”

“Impossible,” said Pig, “impossible. I couldn't do a thing like that.”

“Stop trying to cover up, blockhead,” said Monkey. “You've already called her 'mother' umpteen times: there's nothing impossible about it at all. Hurry up and fulfil your promise so that we can have some wedding wine, which will be one good thing about it.” Seizing Pig with one hand and grabbing the woman with the other he said, “As the bride's mother, you should take your son-in-law inside.”

The idiot Pig hesitated, wanting to go in, and the woman said to the servants, “Bring table and chairs and give these three relatives of ours a meatless supper. I'm taking our son-in-law inside.” Then she told the cooks to prepare a banquet for their friends and relations the following morning. The servants did as they were told, and the other three pilgrims ate their supper, spread their bedding, and went to sleep in their places.

Pig followed his mother-in-law inside, and as he lost count of the number of rooms he went through, constantly tripping over the thresholds. “Don't go so fast, mother,” he said, “and please guide me as I don't know the way.”

“These are all granaries, storehouses, and milling rooms,” she said. “We haven't reached the kitchens yet.”

“What an enormous house,” said Pig, as he went round many a corner, tripping and bumping into things, until he reached the inner apartments of the house.

“Your brother said that today was a very auspicious day,” the woman said, “which is why I've brought you inside. But as we're doing things in such a rush, I haven't had time to call in a fortune-teller or arrange a proper ceremony with the scattering of fruit. You must just bow eight times, and that will have to do.”

“A good idea, mother,” said Pig. “You sit in the seat of honour and I'll bow to you a few times-that can be the wedding ceremony and thanking the bride's family rolled into one, which will save trouble.”

“Very well then,” said the woman with a laugh. “You are a most capable and practical son-in-law. I'll sit here while you bow to me.”

In the room glittering with silver candles the blockhead bowed to her, then asked which of the girls would be married to him. “That's the problem,” his mother-in-law said. “If I give you the eldest, the second one will be upset; and if I give you the second one, I'm afraid the third one will be; and if I give you the third, the eldest will be-so I haven't decided yet.”

“If there's any danger of them quarrelling,” said Pig, “then give me all of them, to save the family from being troubled with arguments and squabbles.”

“What a suggestion,” his mother-in-law exclaimed. “You're certainly not having all my daughters to yourself.”

“Don't be silly, mother. What's unusual about three or four wives? Even if there were several more of them, I'd take them on with a smile. When I was young I learned the art of 'protracted warfare,' and I can guarantee to keep every one of them happy.”

“No, no,” the woman said. “I have a handkerchief here. Tie it round your head to cover your face, and we can let Heaven decide which one you'll marry. I'll tell the girls to walk in front of you while you stretch your arms out. The one you catch, will be yours.” The blockhead obediently tied the handkerchief round his head, and there is a verse to prove it:

The fool, not knowing his own fate,

Was wounded by the sword of sex as he harmed himself in secret

There have always been proper wedding rites,

But today the groom blindfolded himself.

When he had tied the handkerchief on firmly, the idiot said, “Mother, please ask the girls to come out.”

“Zhenzhen, Aiai, Lianlian,” she called, “come out to see which of you Heaven will marry to my new son-in-law.” He heard the tinkling of jade ornaments and smelt rare perfumes as if fairies were there, so he reached out to grab one. He groped about to his left and his right, but without success. There were so many girls running about, and he had no chance of catching one. When he stretched East he only put his arms round a pillar, and when he stretched West he felt only the wall. As he rushed from one end of the room to the other he felt so dizzy that he lost his balance and kept tripping over. He stumbled into the door when he went forward, and collided with the brick wall when he went back, bumping, crashing and falling over till his snout was swollen and his head blue with bruises. Finally he sat on the floor and said as he gasped for breath, “Mother, your daughters are so slippery I can't catch a single one of them. Whatever shall I do?”

“They're not slippery,” she said, taking off the handkerchief, “they're all too shy to marry you.”

“If they won't marry me,” Pig said, “then you marry me.”

“What a son-in-law!” she said. “He doesn't care whether they're young or old-he even wants his own mother-in-law. Now each of these clever girls of mine has made a brocade shirt sewn with pearls. I'll tell whichever girl it is whose shirt you put on to marry you.”

“Great, great, great,” said Pig. “Bring out all three shirts for me to try on, and if I can get them all on, I'll marry them all.” The woman went back inside, and brought out only one shirt, which she handed to Pig. The idiot took off his own black cloth tunic and pulled on the shirt, but before he could tie the belt at the waist he fell to the ground with a thump and found himself tightly bound with many ropes. He was in great pain, and the women had all disappeared.

When Sanzang, Monkey, and Friar Sand woke up, the East was already lightening, and as they opened their eyes and looked around them they saw none of the lofty buildings that had been there. There were no carved and painted beams or rafters either: they had all been sleeping in a grove of pine and cypress. Sanzang called for Monkey in terror, and Friar Sand said, “Elder brother, we're done for, done for-they were demons.”

“What do you mean?” asked Monkey, who understood what had happened, with a trace of a smile. “Look where we've been sleeping,” said Sanzang. “We're very comfortable here under the pine trees,” said Monkey, “but I wonder where that idiot is being punished.”

“Who's being punished?” asked Sanzang.

“The woman and the girls last night were some Bodhisattvas or other appearing to us in disguise,” replied Monkey with a grin, “and I suppose they went away in the middle of the night. I'm afraid Pig is being punished.” On hearing this, Sanzang put his hands together and worshipped, and then they saw a piece of paper hanging from a cypress tree and fluttering in the breeze. Friar Sand hurried over to fetch it and show it to their master, who saw that there were eight lines of verse on it:

“The Old Woman of Mount Li had no yearning for the world,

But the Bodhisattva Guanyin persuaded her to come.

Samantabhadra and Manjusri were both present

Disguised as pretty girls among the trees.

The holy monk were too virtuous to return to lay life,

But the unreligious Pig was worse than worldly.

From now on he must calm his mind and reform-

If he misbehaves again, the journey will be hard.”

As Sanzang, Monkey, and Friar Sand read out these lines they heard loud shouts from the depths of the wood: “Master, they're tied me up and left me to die. I'll never do it again if you save me.”

“Is that Pig shouting, Friar Sand?” asked Sanzang, and Friar Sand said, “Yes.”

“Although that blockhead is obstinately stupid in mind and nature,” said Sanzang, “he is an honest fellow. Besides, he is very strong and can carry the luggage-and we should also remember that the Bodhisattva saved him and told him to come with us. I don't think he'll have the nerve to do it again.” Friar Sand then rolled up the bedding and arranged the luggage, while Monkey untied the horse and led it along as he guided the Tang Priest into the wood to investigate. Indeed:

In the pursuit of righteousness you must be careful,

And sweep away desires in your return to the truth.

If you don't know whether the blockhead survived or not, listen to the explanation in the next installment.