The Primal Movement of the Dharma Body encounters a Cart
Evil in the Heart’s Centre Crossesthe Backbone Pass
There is a poem that goes:
They travel West escaping dangers to seek the scriptures;
Nor can they stop at all the famous mountains.
They press on night and day, starting crows and hares;
The seasons turn amid falling blossom and bird-song.
In the dust under one’s eyes are three thousand worlds;
Four hundred prefectures rest on the head of a staff.
Sleeping in dew and dining on wind they climb the purple slope;
Never knowing when they will be able to start back.
The story tells how after the dragon prince had subdued the demon and the God of the Black River had divided the waters, master and disciples crossed the Black River and took the main trail West. They faced wind and snow, and traveled under the moon and the stars. After they had been going for a long time it was early spring again.
The sun returns;
All comes back to life.
The sun returns;
Beauty fills the sky like an opened scroll.
All comes hack to life,
As flowers cover the earth with embroidered cushions.
A few snowflakes of plum blossom remain,
While the wheat spreads like a sea of cloud.
In the gentle thaw the mountain spring now flows,
The new shoots grow and cover the burnt-out stubble.
Tai Hao governs the East,
The Wood God rules the dawn.
Above the fragrance and the warming breeze
The clouds disperse and the sun shines anew.
Willows spread their green beside the path,
Enriching rain brings spring to all that lives.
Master and disciples were ambling along enjoying the view when all of a sudden they heard a mighty shout like a war-cry from a thousand throats. Sanzang was terrified. He reined in his horse, unable to take another step forward. “Wukong,” he said, looking back at him, “where is that noise from?”
“It sounded like an earthquake or a landslide,” said Pig.
“Or thunder,” said Friar Sand.
“Or people shouting and horses neighing,” said Sanzang.
“You’re all wrong,” laughed Monkey. “Just wait a moment while I go and take a look.”
Splendid Monkey. With one bound he was on a cloud and up in the air looking all around. In the distance he could make out a walled city, and when he went close he could see that it had a haze of auspicious light over it with no sign of any evil emanations. “It’s a good place,” he sighed to himself, “but why was there that terrible noise? I can’t see war banners or spears there, and there’s no sound of cannon. So why was there a noise like shouting and neighing?”
Just as he was debating all this with himself he noticed a big crowd of Buddhist monks on a sandbank outside the city gates, pulling a cart. The noise that had startle Sanzang was them all shouting. “King Powerful Bodhisattva.”
When he slowly lowered his cloud for a better look he saw that the cart was loaded with kiln bricks, tiles, wood and adobe bricks. Above the sandbank was a high ridge, along the top of which ran a narrow track between two great gates. Below the gates the paths all went straight down the steep sides of the ridge: the cart could not possibly be pulled up there. Although the weather was so mild and pleasant the monks were all dressed in rags and looked thoroughly poverty-stricken.
“I suppose they must be building a monastery,” thought Monkey, “and are having to do the work themselves because it’s harvest-time here and they can’t hire any labor.” He was still not sure when he saw two young Taoist priests come swaggering out through the city gates. Just see how they were dressed:
Star crowns on their heads,
Brocade and embroidered clothes.
The star crowns on their heads shine bright,
The brocade and embroidered clothes float like sunset clouds.
On their feet are cloud-treading shoes,
Round their waists are silken belts.
Handsome and clever faces, round as the moon;
Bodies as elegant as the immortals in Heaven.
The approach of the Taoists made the Buddhist monks all shake with fear as they redoubled their efforts and pulled harder than ever at the cart.
“Ah!” thought Monkey as he realized what was up. “The monks must be scared of the Taoists. Why else would they be pulling so hard? I’ve heard people tell of a place on the way to the West where they believe in Taoism and persecute Buddhist monks. This must be it. I was going to report back to the master, but he’ll be angry with me if I don’t discover what it’s all about. He’ll say that a clever chap like me ought to be able to find out the truth. I’ll go down and ask what’s happening so I can tell the master.”
But whom was he to ask? The splendid Great Sage shook himself and turned into the likeness of a wandering Quanzhen Taoist with a food basket over his left arm as he beat on a bamboo drum and sang Taoist songs. Monkey walked towards the city gates and bowed in greeting to the two Taoists, saying, “Humble greetings, elders in the Way.”
“Where are you from, sir?” the Taoists asked, returning his greeting.
“I wander and roam from the corners of the sea to the edge of the sky,” Monkey replied. “I am here today to beg from some pious household. Could you two elders tell me which streets and which alleys in this city love the Way and its followers? I would like to beg for some food.”
“What a depressing way to talk, sir,” said one of the Taoist priests with a laugh.
“What’s so depressing about it?” Monkey asked.
“Isn’t it depressing that you want to beg for food?” asked the priest.
“But we men of religion have to live by begging,” said Brother Monkey. If we don’t, we can’t buy our food.”
The Taoist priest laughed again and replied, “You’re a stranger here and you don’t know about our city. Here it’s not just the civil and military officials, the rich and the elderly who love the Way and its followers. Young and old, men and women alike, everyone offers us food when they see us. But all that is hardly worth mentioning. By far the most important thing is that His Majesty the king is a devout lover of the Way and its followers.”
“I’m young,” said Monkey, “and I’m a stranger from far away. I didn’t know that. Could I trouble you two elders to do a fellow-believer a favour? Tell me more about what this place is called and how the king shows his love for the Way and its worthies.”
“This country is called Tarrycart,” the Taoist priest replied, “and His Majesty is close to us.”
When Monkey heard this he said with a chuckle, “Can it be that a Taoist priest is monarch?”
“No,” he replied. “For twenty years there was a drought here, and not a drop of rain fell. Nothing could grow. Everyone—king, ministers, commoners, the high and the humble—all bathed, burnt incense and prayed to Heaven for rain. When they were in really desperate straits three immortals were sent from Heaven to save all living beings.”
“Which three?” Monkey asked.
“Our masters,” the Taoist priest replied.
“May I ask their titles?” Monkey asked. “Our senior master is the Great Immortal Tiger Power,” the Taoist replied, “our second master is the Great Immortal Deer Power, and the third master is the Great Immortal Antelope Power.”
“What sort of magic can your three masters perform?” Monkey asked.
“They can summon up wind and rain with a flick of the hand,” the Taoist said, “and change water into oil or stone into gold as easily as turning around. Their magic arts enable them to control the creation of heaven and earth, or to alter the positions of the stars. Our king and his ministers treat them with great respect and they are now relations of ours.”
“Your king is very fortunate,” said Monkey. “As the saying goes, magic moves ruler and minister alike. If your masters have those powers and the king treats them as his relations they must have been very good to him. Oh dear! I don’t suppose that a poor Taoist like myself is fated to meet your venerable masters.”
“No, problem about meeting them,” said the Taoist. “We two are his favorite disciples. Besides, our masters are such lovers of the Way and its followers that they only need to hear the word ‘Way’ to come right outside to welcome a visitor. For us to take you in there would be as easy as blowing away ashes.”
Monkey chanted a deep and respectful “re-e-er” and then said, “I would be very grateful for an introduction. Let’s go in.”
“Wait a moment,” said the Taoist. “You sit here while we finish the jobs we have to do, then we’ll go in together.”
“Priests ought to be completely free and unconstrained,” said Monkey. “What jobs do you have to do?”
The Taoist pointed toward the Buddhist monks on the sandbank and said, “They’re working for us, and we have to call the roll to make sure they don’t start slacking.”
“You elders have got it wrong,” said Monkey with a smile. “We Buddhist and Taoist monks are all men of religion. They shouldn’t be working for us and answering roll-calls.”
“You wouldn’t know that when we were all praying for ram the year the Buddhists were on one side praying to Buddha while we were on the other side praying to the Great Bear. We both asked the court for grain, but the Buddhists turned out to be useless. They got no results by reciting their sutras and didn’t help in the least. It was our masters who came along, called up wind and rain, and saved the people from their distress. The king was so angry with those useless Buddhists that he had their monasteries torn down and their Buddha-statues smashed. He revoked their ordination licenses and refused to let them go home. Instead he gave them to us to work for us as slaves. They do all our cooking and cleaning and they look after our gates. Because our residence out here hasn’t been finished yet we’ve made the Buddhists drag the bricks, tiles and timber here to do the building for us. We two have been sent here to keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t start slacking.”
When Monkey heard this he held on to them and said through his tears, “I said I wasn’t fated to meet your masters and I was right.”
“Why won’t you meet them?” the Taoist asked.
“I have come here on my wanderings for two reasons,” said Monkey. “One is to make a living, and the other is to find a relation.”
“What relation?” the Taoist asked.
“I have an uncle,” Monkey replied, “who left home to have his head shaved and become a Buddhist monk when he was very young. During a famine years ago he went away to beg. He hasn’t been back since, and I’m looking for him out of a sense of duty to our forebears. I expect he’s been detained here and can’t escape, but there’s no way of knowing. If I could just have a look for him and see him I’d be able to go into town with you after that.”
“No problem,” said the Taoist. “We’ll sit here while you go down to the sand and check them over for us. Just make sure there are five hundred of them. See if your uncle is among them. If he is, we’ll release him as you’re a fellow Taoist. Then we can go into town together.”
Monkey was very grateful indeed. He bowed to them with his hands raised and headed straight for the sandbank, playing his bamboo drum. Once he was through the two sets of gates and had gone down the ridge the monks all knelt and kowtowed to him.
“Master,” one of the monks said, “we’re not slacking. Every one of the five hundred of us is here and all pulling that cart.”
At this Monkey smiled to himself and thought with a grin he did not show, “Those Taoists have got them so scared that they’re even frightened of an imitation Taoist like me. If I were a real Taoist they’d die of fright.”
Then Monkey said aloud with a wave of his hands, “Don’t kneel, and don’t be afraid. I’m not the supervisor. I’m here to look for a relation.” Once they heard him talk about looking for a relation, the monks all crowded round, craning forward, coughing and making other noises in their eagerness to be picked out.
“Who’s his relation?” they all wondered. Monkey looked them all over for a while then started chuckling aloud.
“My lord,” the monk said, “if you can’t find your relation among us, what is there to laugh about?”
“Do you know why I’m laughing?” Monkey asked. “It’s because all you monks are failures. You were born under unlucky stars. Your parents were only prepared to let you become monks because you brought them bad luck or because you were destined to have no sisters. Why ever are you working for Taoists like slaves instead of honoring the Three Treasures, respecting the Buddha’s Dharma, reading sutras and performing ceremonies of repentance?”
“You put us to shame, my lord,” the monk replied. “You must be a stranger here, sir, who doesn’t understand the situation.”
“Indeed I am,” Monkey replied, “and indeed I don’t.”
“Our king,” said the Buddhist monk in tears, “is prejudiced and unreasonable. He only likes the followers of Lao Zi, and he hates us Buddhists.”
“Why?” Monkey asked.
“Because three immortals came here to call up wind and rain,” the monk replied. “They ruined everything for us and won the king’s confidence. He has destroyed our monasteries, revoked our ordination licenses, and refused to let us return to our homes. And the form of forced labor he imposed on us was to give us to the immortals to work for them. It’s unbearably hard. When you come here, wandering Taoist, you will only have to call on the king to be richly rewarded. But any Buddhist monk who comes, whether from around here or from far away, is arrested and put to work for the immortals.”
“I suppose the Taoists must use some magic powers to worm their way into the king’s confidence,” said Monkey. “Calling up winds and rain is small-time magic used by unorthodox sects, and hardly enough to win a king’s heart.”
“They can refine mercury from cinnabar, sit in meditation, turn water into oil, and change stones into gold,” the monk replied. “They have now built a Temple of the Three Pure Ones where they read scriptures and perform ceremonies to heaven and earth night and day to obtain eternal life for His Majesty. That is why the king’s heart has been moved.”
“So it’s like that, is it?” said Monkey. “You may all go now.”
“But, my lord, we can’t get away,” the monk replied. “The immortals persuaded the king to have pictures of monks painted, and these have been sent to be displayed in every ward and by every river. Tarrycart is a big country, but in every city, prefecture, county town, village, hamlet, inn and market-place there hangs a picture of Buddhist monks with this notice on it in the king’s own handwriting: Any official who captures a monk will be promoted three grades. Any commoner not holding office who captures a monk will receive a reward of fifty ounces of silver.
That’s why we can’t escape. It’s not just us Buddhist monks. Anyone who’s had a short haircut or who’s bald or whose hair is thinning finds it hard not to get arrested. Agents and policemen are everywhere. There’s no way we can possibly escape. We have no choice: we can only suffer here.”
“In that case you’d all better die,” said Monkey.
“My lord,” said the Buddhist monk, “many of us have already. There were over two thousand of us altogether, both us local monks and those arrested from elsewhere. Six or seven hundred of us have died and about the same number have killed themselves because they could not bear the pain, the searing heat, the bitter cold, or the local conditions. We five hundred are the only survivors.”
“How have you managed to stay alive?” Monkey asked.
“The rope broke when we tried to hang ourselves, or it did not even hurt when we tried to slit our own throats, or we floated and did not drown when we jumped into the river, or the poison we took didn’t harm us.”
“You’re all very lucky then,” said Monkey. “Heaven has given each of you perpetual life.”
“Sir,” said the monk, “you’ve left one word out. It’s a perpetual life sentence. For our three meals every day all we get is a thin gruel of brown rice. At night we have to sleep on the sandbank in the open. Luckily spirits come to protect us when we close our eyes.”
“I expect you see ghosts because you’re so exhausted,” said Monkey.
“No,” said the Buddhist monk. “They’re the Six Dings, the Six Jias, and the Guardians of the Faith. But they can only protect us at night, except when they come to save the life of any of us who is on the point of death.”
“That’s very wrong of the spirits,” said Brother Monkey. “They shouldn’t be protecting you like that. They should let you die and be reborn in the Western Heaven as soon as possible.”
“They come to us in our dreams,” said the monk, “and give us advice like, ‘Don’t try to die. Hole out till a holy priest comes from the East, and arhat who will go to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures. He has a disciple of immense magical powers, the Great Sage Equaling Heaven. He has a good and loyal heart, he rights wrongs, he saves those in distress and he helps widows and orphans. Wait till he shows his divine powers, wipes out the Taoist priests, and restores our Dhyana faith to its proper respect.’”
This pleased Monkey, though he did not show it as he thought,
“Whoever said that Monkey had no powers to his name?
Before I even got here gods and spirits spread my fame.”
He then hurried off, taking his leave of the monks and beating his bamboo drum as he headed for the city gates to see the Taoist priests again. “Which of them is your respected uncle?” they asked.
“All five hundred of them are my relations,” Monkey replied.
“How can you possibly have so many?” they asked again.
“A hundred were my neighbors who lived to the left of us,” Monkey replied, “and another hundred lived to the right. A hundred are my father’s kin, and a hundred are related to my mother. The last hundred are my own friends and acquaintances. If you are willing to release them all, I’ll go into the city with you; but if you won’t, I won’t.”
“You must be off your head, talking such nonsense,” the Taoist priests replied. “All those Buddhist monks were presented to us by His Majesty. Even if we released just one or two of them we’d have to cover up by handing in sick notes for them to our masters then filling out death certificates. We couldn’t possibly release the whole lot of them. It would be outrageous, quite outrageous. We’d have no servants and the king would be very angry with us. The ward head is always sending officials to check up, and sometimes the king even comes to count them himself. We couldn’t possibly let them go.”
“You couldn’t?” said Monkey.
“No,” the priests replied. By the time he had asked this and been given the same answer three times he was in a terrible rage. He produced his iron cudgel from his ear, created a spell with his hands, made it as thick as a rice bowl, swung it, and brought it down on the Taoists’ faces. The poor Taoists
Fell to the ground with their blood gushing out and their heads split open,
Wounds that were gaping wide, brains scattered everywhere, both necks broken.
When the Buddhist monks faraway on the strand saw Monkey kill the two Taoists they abandoned their cart and came running over saying, “This is awful, this is awful. You’ve killed the king’s relations.”
“Who are the king’s relations?” Monkey asked.
The monks fenced him in with their earth-moving baskets and said, “Their masters don’t have to greet the king when they enter the throne hall or take leave of him when they go. The king addresses them as ‘Elder Brother Teacher’. Why did you have to come here to get us into this terrible trouble. It was nothing to do with you that their disciples came to supervise the work. What’s to become of us now that they’ve been killed? We’ll have to take you into town to report their deaths.”
“Do stop that yelling, gentlemen,” said Monkey with a smile. “I’m not really a wandering Quanzhen Taoist. I’m here to rescue you.”
“But by killing them you’ve only made things worse for us,” they said. “How can you say you’re here to rescue us?”
“I’m Sun Wukong the Novice,” Monkey replied, “the disciple of the holy priest from the Great Tang, and I’ve come here specially to save you.”
“No, you’re not,” the monk said. “We know what that great lord looks like.”
“But how could you?” Monkey asked. “You’ve never met him.”
“We’ve seen an old man in a dream who told us he was the Great White Planet. He told us what Sun the Novice, or Monkey, looks like so that we wouldn’t confuse him with anyone else.”
“How did the Planet describe him to you?” Monkey asked him.
To this the Buddhist monk replied, “He told us that the Great Sage has
A brow that seems split open, two flashing of eyes of gold,
A head that’s round, a hairy face, and sunken cheeks, we’re told.
Out of a pointed muzzle sharp little teeth protrude;
He looks much like a thunder god, and his Conduct’s very crude.
He wields a cudgel of iron with ends banded in gold
With which he smashed the Heavenly gates as a rebel in times of old.
Now he has seen the light of the faith he’s escorting his master,
And saves whoever he can from death and disaster.”
Monkey was both angry and pleased to hear this. He was pleased that his fame had been spread, but thought angrily, “That old rascal, telling these ordinary mortals what I really look like.”
Then he found himself speaking aloud and saying, “Gentlemen, you’re quite right that I’m not Sun the Novice. I’m only a servant of his who’s come here to fool around and practice making trouble. But Sun the Novice is coming—look over there!” He pointed East, tricking all the monks into turning away while he resumed his true appearance.
Only then did they realize who he really was, and fell to the ground to kowtow and say, “My lord, because we have only mortal eyes we failed to recognize you in your disguise. We beg you to go into the city, subdue evil, and save and avenge us.”
“Come with me then,” said Monkey, and the monks followed him closely.
The Great Sage went straight to the sandbank and used magic to make the cart go through the two gates and along the ridge then lift itself right up and smash itself to smithereens. The bricks, tiles and timber all went tumbling down the slope. “Scatter,” he told the monks, “and keep away from me until I’ve seen the king and wiped out those Taoists tomorrow.”
“But, my lord,” the Buddhist monk said, “we dare not go far. We’re frightened of being arrested by officials and brought back here to be flogged and punished in other ways. It would only make things worse for us.”
“In that case I’ll give you some magical protection,” said Monkey. The splendid Great Sage then pulled out a handful of hairs and chewed them into little pieces, one of which he gave to each of the monks. “Keep it inside the nail of your third finger, bunch you fingers together, and just keep walking,” he told them. “Nothing will happen unless somebody tries to arrest you. If anyone does, clench your fist and shout, ‘Great Sage Equaling Heaven.’ Then I’ll come and protect you.”
“But, my lord,” the monk said, “what if you’re far away and out of sight? What if you don’t come when we call? Whatever shall we do?”
“Don’t worry yourselves,” said Monkey. “I’ll keep you completely safe even if I’m thousands of miles away.”
One of the bolder spirits among the monks clenched his fist and said “Great Sage Equaling Heaven” under his breath. A figure like a thunder god holding an iron cudgel appeared before him, so terrifying that not even a huge army would not have dared to approach him. Then over a hundred of the monks called out, and over a hundred Great Sages appeared to protect them.
“Truly a miracle, my lord,” the monks all said, kowtowing.
Monkey then told them to say “Quiet” for their protectors to disappear again. They then all said “Quiet,” and the pieces of hair were once more tucked behind their fingernails. Only then were the monks all happy to disperse and make their escapes.
“Don’t go too far,” said Brother Monkey, “and keep your ears open for news of me. If a notice is issued recalling Buddhist monks, come to the city and return my hair.” The five hundred monks then scattered in all directions; some went away and some stayed where they were.
The story switches back to Sanzang, who gave up waiting beside the track for Monkey to report back and told Pig to lead the horse Westward. They met monks hurrying away, and when they were close to the city wall they found Monkey with a dozen or so monks who had not yet gone. “Wukong,” said Sanzang, reining in his horse, “why did it take you so long to get back from investigating that noise?” Monkey led the dozen or so monks in performing obeisances before Sanzang’s horse and then told him everything that happened. Sanzang was horrified: “What are we to do if that’s the way it is?”
“Please don’t worry, my lord,” said the dozen or so monks. “His Honour the Great Sage Monkey is a god down from Heaven whose divine powers are tremendous. He will most certainly be able to protect you. We are monks from the Deep Wisdom Monastery, a royal foundation in the city. Because our monastery was founded by the great-grandfather of the present king and there is a statue of him there, the monastery has not been demolished, although all the others in the city, big and small alike, have been torn down. We would like to invite you to come straight into town to stay in our humble monastery. The Great Sage Monkey is bound to find some way of coping at court tomorrow morning.”
“You are right,” said Monkey. “Very well then, let us go into the city without further delay.”
The venerable elder then dismounted and went on foot to the city gate. The sun was setting in the West as they crossed the drawbridge and went in through the triple gates. People in the streets turned away when they saw the monks of the Deep Wisdom Monastery leading a horse and carrying luggage. When they reached the monastery gates the travelers saw a large sign over them reading DEEP WISDOM MONASTERY: FOUNDED BY ROYAL COMMAND.
The monks pushed the gates open and led them through the Hall of the Vajrapanis before opening the doors of the main hall of the monastery. Sanzang covered himself with his cassock and worshipped the Buddha before
entering.
“Steward!” the monks called, and an old monk came out who kowtowed to Monkey the moment he saw him.
“My lord, are you really here?” he said.
“Do you know which lord I am, bowing like that?” Monkey asked.
“I can see that you are Lord Sun, the Great Sage Equaling Heaven,” the old monk replied. “We see you in our dreams every night; the Great White Planet is always coming in them to tell us that we will only be saved when you arrive. Now that I have beheld your distinguished countenance I know that it is the same as in our dreams. I am glad you are here so soon, my lord. Had you been a day or two later we would all have become ghosts by then.”
“Please get up,” said Monkey. “Things will be sorted out tomorrow.” The monks then laid on a vegetarian meal for the master and his disciples and tidied up the abbot’s lodgings for them to stay in. They settled down for the night.
A little before midnight Monkey, who had too much on his mind to go to sleep, heard music outside, got up quietly, dressed, and sprang into the air to look around. To the South he saw lamps and candles burning bright, and when he brought his cloud lower for a close look he saw that in the Temple of the Three Pure Ones the Taoists were performing a star ritual. What he saw was
The high hall of the sanctum,
The true holy shrine.
The high hall of the sanctum
Was as majestic as Penghu’s magic isle;
The true holy shrine
Was mysteriously pure like the Huale Temple.
On either side the Taoist priests played pan-pipes
While the celebrant in the center held a tablet of jade.
They explained The Elimination of Disaster
And preached on The Way and its Power.
When the dust-raising dance was over the talismans were issued;
After making divine petition all lay down in respect.
When the water had been blessed and the spirits summoned,
The fluttering flames of the candles rose up to the sky.
When the Pole Star was located and the Dipper paced out,
Clouds of fragrant incense filled the void.
Fresh food was offered on the votive tables,
And a rich repast of meatless food laid out.
In front of the hall hung a pair of yellow brocade vertical scrolls on which were embroidered these words:
May winds and rains come as they should;
We pray for the boundless power of the Heavenly Honoured Ones.
May rivers and seas be pure and peaceful;
We beg for many a year of life for His Majesty.
Monkey saw three old Taoists wearing their religious robes; he took them to be the Great Immortals Tiger Power, Deer Power and Antelope Power. Standing below them to either side were a crowd of seven or eight hundred Taoists holding drums, bells, incense and divine petitions. Monkey was delighted.
“I had meant to go down and fool around with them by myself,” he thought, “but one strand of silk can’t make a thread, and one hand can’t clap. I think I’ll go back and do Friar Sand and Pig a good turn by letting them join in the game with me.”
Monkey then landed his auspicious cloud and went straight into the abbot’s lodgings, where he found Pig and Friar Sand sleeping top to toe. Monkey first called Friar Sand, who woke up and said, “Aren’t you asleep yet, brother?”
“Get up,” said Monkey. “We’re going to have a good feed.”
“Whatever sort of good feed can I have in the middle of the night when my throat’s dried out and my eyes are all bleary?” Friar Sand asked.
“There’s the Temple of the Three Pure Ones in this city where the Taoist priests are holding a service,” Brother Monkey replied. “The Hall of the Three Pure Ones is full of offerings: steamed buns as big as a bucket, cakes that must weight fifty or sixty pounds apiece, any amount of rice, and fresh fruit too. Let’s go and have some.”
The talk of all this good food was enough to wake Pig up. “Won’t you take me too, brother?” he asked.
“If you want a feed,” said Monkey, “keep your voice down and don’t wake the master. Come with me.”
The two of them dressed, slipped outside, and leapt up by cloud with Monkey. As soon as the idiot saw the lights he wanted to attack, but Monkey held him back and said, “Steady on. We’ll go down when they’ve all gone.”
“But their recitations are only just warming up,” said Pig. “They won’t want to go.”
“I’ll do some magic that will send them packing,” said Monkey.
The splendid Great Sage said the words and made the hand movements of a spell, drew in a breath from the quarter of the wind, and blew a gale so terrible that as it tore into the Hall of the Three Pure Ones it knocked down all the vases, candlesticks, and offerings on the walls and put out all the lamps. The Taoists all shook with terror.
“You had better go, disciples,” said the Great Immortal Tiger Power. “This divine wind has blown out all the lamps and the incense, so you should all go back to bed. Get up early tomorrow morning and recite some more scriptures to make the numbers up.” The Taoists then did indeed all withdraw.
Monkey then led Pig and Friar Sand to land their clouds, and they charged straight into the Hall of the Three Pure Ones. The idiot grabbed some food, not caring whether it was cooked or raw, and was just about to eat it when Monkey raised his iron cudgel to hit him. Pig pulled back his hand and said, “You’re going to hit me before I’ve even tasted anything.”
“Don’t act so low,” said Monkey. “You must pay your respects and sit down before eating.”
“You’re shameless,” said Pig. “You steal food and expect me to pay my respects too. What would I have had to do if we’d been properly invited?”
“Do you know who the three Bodhisattvas sitting up there are?” Monkey asked. “Can’t you recognize the Three Pure Ones themselves?” asked Pig. “How could you possibly think they are Bodhisattvas?”
“What about those Three Pure Ones?” Monkey asked. “Oh well,” said Pig, “the one in the middle is the Original Celestial Pure One, the one on the left is the Precious Pure One, and the one on the right is the Supreme Lord Lao Zi.”
“We’ve got to make ourselves look like them before we can eat in safety,” said Monkey. The delicious smells of the offerings were making the idiot desperate with hunger, so he climbed on the pedestal of the statue and knocked Lord Lao Zi off it with one shove of his snout.
“You’ve sat here for long enough, old man,” he said. “It’s my turn now.”
Pig turned himself into the Supreme Lord Lao Zi, Monkey turned himself into the Original Celestial Pure One, and Friar Sand into the Precious Pure One. When the statues had all been pushed over and the three of them were sitting up there Pig grabbed a big steamed bun.
“Not so fast,” said Monkey.
“But brother,” protested Pig, “we’ve already made ourselves look like them. What are we waiting for?”
“Brother,” said Monkey, “eating is much less important than not giving ourselves away. If one of the Taoists got up early to hit the bell or sweep the floor and tripped over a piece of one of the statues we’ve knocked over the news would be out. You’d better hide them.”
“But where?” asked Pig. “I’m a stranger here and I don’t know my way around.”
“When we came in,” said Monkey, “there was a little pair of double doors to the right with an awful stench coming out of them. It must be the place where the five kinds of grain prepare for reincarnation. Put them in there.”
The idiot really did have some brute strength. When he leapt down he put the three statues over his shoulders and carried them out. On kicking those doors open he found that it was in fact a big lavatory.
“That Protector of the Horses certainly knows how to talk,” he said with a laugh. “He even made up a fancy Taoist name for the shithouse—‘the place where the five kinds of grain prepare for reincarnation.’” Before tipping in the three statues he was carrying he mumbled a prayer:
“Three Pure Ones, Three Pure Ones, hear my prayer. We have come here from afar to wipe out evil spirits. We wish to enjoy your offerings but there was nowhere we could sit. So we’ve had to borrow your pedestals for a while. You have been sitting there long enough, and now you can go into the cesspit. Normally you have no end of things to eat, and you are pure Taoists. But today you’ll have to taste some filth and be stinking Heavenly Honoured Ones.”
His prayer said, he threw them in with a great splash that covered half his tunic with evil-smelling liquid. When he went hack into the hall Monkey asked him, “Did you hide them properly?”
“I hid them well enough,” the idiot replied, “but I splashed some of that filthy water on my clothes. I hope the stench doesn’t make you feel sick.”
“Never mind,” laughed Monkey, “come and eat now. But you’ll have to clean up before we go outside.” The idiot turned himself back into Lord Lao Zi and the three of them sat down to eat their fill. First they ate the steamed bread, and then they went on to the assorted cold dishes, the rice, the pastries, the buns, the biscuits, the pancakes, the doughnuts, and the steamed pies. They ate whatever they felt like, not caring whether it was hot or cold. Now Monkey was not much of a one for cooked food, so he just ate some fruit to keep the other two company. They cleaned everything up like shooting stars chasing the moon or a wind sweeping the clouds away. When there was nothing else left to eat they did not go, but stayed there chatting and entertaining themselves while they digested the meal.
What a thing to have done! There was a young Taoist priest who had just gone to bed in his dormitory by the Eastern cloister when he suddenly got up. “I left my handbell in the hall,” he thought, “and if I lose it my master will be angry with me tomorrow.”
“You go to sleep,” he said to other priest who shared his bed, “while I go to look for it.” He was in such a hurry that he did not put his underclothes back on but just pulled on his tunic and went straight to the main hall to look for his bell. He groped all around till he found it and was about to turn and leave when to his consternation he heard the sound of breathing. As he fled in alarm he tripped on a lichee stone and crashed to the ground, smashing his bell to pieces with a tremendous clang. Pig could not help roaring with laughter at this, which terrified the young Taoist out of his wits.
He staggered to the abbots lodgings, knocked on the doors and said, “Masters, disaster.”
The three senior Taoist were not yet in bed, so they opened the doors and asked, “What disaster?”
“I’d lost my bell,” said the young Taoist, shivering and shaking, “and was looking for it in the hall when I heard a loud laugh that all but scared me to death.”
“Fetch lanterns,” said the senior Taoists on hearing this, “and see what evil creature it is.” This order was passed on to the priests, young and old, in both cloisters, who all got up, lit lamps, and went to the main hall to look.
If you don’t know what they found, listen to the explanation in the next installment.