Master Gao

At dusk, a servant carrying a travel pack and a parasol was hurrying along the road.

His name was Gao Cai, a hired hand in the household of Master Gao of Gao Family Manor. Over the past few months, he had made countless trips on behalf of his master, scouring nearby villages, towns, and monasteries. He had sought out three or four different groups of "masters"—some monks, some Taoists—but every single one had returned without success. Master Gao had given him another dressing-down, pressed five mace of silver into his hand, and ordered him out to search again. As Gao Cai stepped out of the gateway of Gao Family Manor, his heart swelled with indignation: he was angry at his master's scolding, angry at those fraudulent masters who had swindled their money, and angry at his own wretched fate.

He did not expect that on this very evening, two figures would be standing at the street corner—a monk riding a white horse, and a short man of exceptionally hideous appearance. The man reached out and grabbed him: "Where are you off to? I have a question for you."

That single grab changed the destiny of everyone in Gao Family Manor.

In chapters eighteen and nineteen of Journey to the West, Gao Family Manor—the home of Master Gao—serves as one of the most intense collision points between the mortal world and the order of gods and demons in the entire novel. Across these two chapters, the author Wu Cheng'en uses the character of Master Gao to fully present the struggle, embarrassment, and eventual liberation of an ordinary wealthy man caught in a series of supernatural events: the arrival of a pig demon as a son-in-law and the descent of a divine monk to subdue the demon. Master Gao is neither a hero nor a villain; he is simply a father toyed with by fate—a mortal caught between gods and demons, left with no choice of his own.

The Geographical and Cultural Background of Gao Family Manor

A Hamlet in the Heart of Ü-Tsang

From a geographical perspective, Gao Family Manor is located in the "borderlands of the Kingdom of Ü-Tsang." In the geographical concepts of the Ming Dynasty, Ü-Tsang roughly corresponds to today's Tibetan region, a remote western frontier where Buddhism flourished. In Journey to the West, the pilgrimage party's departure from the Eastern Land Tang into Ü-Tsang signifies their entry into a middle ground—a space neither covered by the rites and laws of the Central Plains nor governed by the Buddhist realms of the West. It is precisely this kind of narrative space where gods and demons roam freely, and the mundane and the exotic coexist.

The origin of the name Gao Family Manor is quite straightforward: the original text explains through Gao Cai that "more than half the people in the village are surnamed Gao, hence it is called Gao Family Manor" (Chapter 18). This is a rural settlement based on clan habitation, sharing a common surname and a common set of ethical norms, as well as a conventional set of reception methods and standards for outsiders—whether they be itinerant monks or pig-faced demons.

According to the descriptions, Master Gao is a wealthy man of the village. The original text describes him coming out to greet the guests "wearing a black silk headcloth, a gown of white-green Shu brocade, calfskin boots made of coarse rice-leather, and a black-green sash" (Chapter 18). A black silk headcloth and Shu brocade were not the attire of an ordinary farmer, but the typical image of the Ming Dynasty gentry: wealthy, leisurely, well-versed in etiquette, and concerned with prestige. The fact that he employs laborers like "Gao Cai" and has the means to "hire three or four" masters, providing them with silver for travel expenses, further proves that his economic power is considerable.

The Literary Shaping of a Ming Dynasty Rural Wealthy Man

The character of Master Gao possesses the distinct characteristics of a Ming Dynasty rural gentry member. In the mid-to-late Ming Dynasty, with the development of the commodity economy, a class of gentry emerged in the countryside who accumulated wealth through land and commercial ventures. They did not fully belong to the official bureaucracy (lacking official rank), yet they stood above ordinary peasants (possessing vast estates and labor), forming a unique kind of local authority. They had a voice in local affairs, but appeared quite fragile when facing imperial power, divine authority, or stronger external forces.

Master Gao is a typical projection of this image: within Gao Family Manor, he is the authoritative patriarch; before gods and demons, he is a completely powerless ordinary man. His wealth ensures that he can "hire masters," "arrange banquets," and "provide gold and silver," yet it cannot help him solve the fundamental predicament of the pig demon marrying into his family. Money can hire manpower, but it cannot buy the ability to subdue demons.

Wu Cheng'en projects his observations and understanding of the Ming Dynasty gentry through this character. The limitations of this class in the face of social change—the desire to maintain clan prestige while lacking the actual ability to deal with a crisis—are presented gently and accurately in the figure of Master Gao.

Daughter Captive: A Father's Three-Year Ordeal

The Calculation of the Uxorilocal Son-in-Law

To understand the plight of Master Gao, one must first understand his motivations for recruiting a son-in-law to marry into the family.

The original text reveals everything through Master Gao's own words: "I, in my misfortune, have had no sons, only three daughters. Two of them were betrothed from a young age to families within this manor. Only the youngest remains, for whom I wish to recruit a son-in-law, hoping he will live with me in the same house as a son-in-law for my old age, to uphold the family name and handle the chores." (Chapter 18)

This confession exposes Master Gao's most pressing predicament: the lack of a son.

In traditional Chinese society, particularly within the rural clan structures of the Ming Dynasty, the absence of a son constituted a profound family crisis. There would be no one to inherit the family estate, no one to provide support in old age, and no one to maintain the household's prestige—this series of anxieties formed the deepest ache of Master Gao's life. He kept his youngest daughter, Cuilan, at home specifically to recruit a son-in-law. His goal was to find a "son-in-law for old age" who could both perform the labor and provide care. In essence, he was using his daughter's marriage to purchase security for his own twilight years.

This marriage strategy of "recruiting a son-in-law" was quite common in ancient China, known as zhaozhui. Such uxorilocal marriages were especially frequent in Ming Dynasty villages as a vital means for childless households to preserve their family property. From the perspective of economic rationality, Master Gao's choice was beyond reproach. However, the cost of this choice was that his daughter, Cuilan, became a mere instrumental pawn—from the beginning, her marriage was not entirely for her own sake, but to fill the void of the missing son in her father's family structure.

This background laid a deep narrative foundation for the series of events that followed.

The Arrival of Zhu Ganglie: Three Years of Supernatural Attrition

Zhu Ganglie (the later Zhu Bajie) arrived claiming to be from "a household on Mount Fuling." His status as "rootless and unburdened," having neither parents nor siblings, won Master Gao's trust. Master Gao remarked, "Seeing that he was such a rootless and unburdened man, I recruited him." This sentence is pivotal—it was precisely this lack of ties that dispelled Master Gao's reservations. A son-in-law without the burden of a natal family meant no external familial entanglements and a more complete sense of belonging. Master Gao prized Zhu Ganglie's isolation, believing such a man would be more devoted to staying and upholding the household.

However, "rootless and unburdened" soon revealed another meaning—this son-in-law had no human roots, nor any ties to the mortal realm.

At the start of the marriage, Zhu Ganglie's performance was nearly perfect. The original text records: "Upon entering the door, he was diligent and careful: he plowed and harrowed the fields without the need for oxen or tools; he harvested the grain without the need for knives or sickles; from dusk until dawn, he was truly exemplary." (Chapter 18) Requiring neither plow nor blade, he completed all farm work through sheer monstrous strength. This was the ideal state for Master Gao's recruited son-in-law: a capable worker who brought no additional trouble.

The problem began to surface with his "appearance." Zhu Ganglie "could change his face"; he first arrived as "a fat black man," but gradually revealed himself as "a dullard with a long snout and large ears, a ridge of bristles running down the back of his head, a coarse and frightening body, and a face that looked exactly like a pig." Coupled with an appalling appetite ("eating three to five pecks of rice in one meal, and requiring a hundred fried cakes for a morning snack") and his increasingly volatile "wind-manipulating" powers, which ensured that "neither the family nor the neighbors could find a moment's peace," Master Gao's fantasy of the "good son-in-law" was slowly torn to shreds by a pig's face, gale-force winds, and sky-blotting mists.

What finally broke Master Gao was Zhu Ganglie's decision to lock Cuilan in the rear quarters: "He locked the young daughter Cuilan in the back house; for half a year, they have not seen each other, and it is unknown whether she lives or dies." A father unable to see his daughter for six months, ignorant of her fate—this sense of helplessness was the true core of Master Gao's ordeal. He could not afford a master capable of subduing demons, nor could he enter the locked doors of the rear house. On his own land, he had become an outsider with no right to enter his daughter's room.

Three Years of Endurance and Struggle

Despite knowing his son-in-law was a demon, Master Gao endured it for three long years. This was driven by multiple pressures:

First, the consideration of reputation. After Zhu Bajie was eventually subdued, Master Gao pleaded with the Pilgrim, saying something of great weight: "People are always saying, 'The Gao family recruited a demon son-in-law.' How is one to bear such a phrase?" (Chapter 19) Reputation—or rather, the shame of being the subject of gossip—was one of the things Master Gao cared about most. In a village of clustered clans, a scandal like "recruiting a demon son-in-law" would utterly destroy the social standing of a gentry family.

Second, practical calculations. Zhu Ganglie did indeed work, and he had not killed Cuilan (at least not by the end). He had indeed helped Master Gao "earn a great deal of family wealth." The Pilgrim later admitted frankly: "The monster once told me that although he has a great appetite and ate your family's tea and rice, he also did many good things for you; the wealth earned over these years was all due to his strength." (Chapter 19) This detail is significant: Zhu Ganglie was not a purely malevolent presence; he was creating wealth for Master Gao through supernatural labor. In seeking to remove him, Master Gao was, in part, rejecting an abnormal input of profit, making it more than a simple matter of right and wrong.

Third, a lack of capability. He hired three or four groups of masters, but they were all "useless monks and bloated Taoists" who were completely unable to subdue the demon. This shows that in Master Gao's cognitive world, professional solutions to demon problems existed in theory, but in practice, he could find no one truly capable. This cycle of "seeking help but finding no effect" extended his sense of helplessness indefinitely.

For Master Gao, those three years were a prolonged torture, oscillating constantly between shame, anxiety, helplessness, and endurance.

Meeting the Pilgrimage Party: A Turning Point of Fate

Gao Cai's Unexpected Report

The turning point of the story occurs the moment Gao Cai is seized by Sun Wukong.

This is a masterful narrative design within Journey to the West: the chain of events is not initiated by Master Gao's active pursuit, but is triggered by a chance encounter at a crossroads. Gao Cai sets out to find a master, only to encounter a truly capable one on the street. This kind of dramatic "precise coincidence" constitutes the typical "predestined opportunity" pattern in the narrative of Journey to the West. Whenever the pilgrimage party arrives at a new location, they often intervene in local affairs in this manner—seemingly accidental, yet actually fated.

When Gao Cai reports back, Master Gao's reaction is quite cautious: "Since he is a monk from afar, perhaps he truly possesses some skill. Where is he now?" (Chapter 18). Note the phrasing here: not "he must have skill," but "perhaps he truly possesses some skill"—this is an expectation tempered with skepticism, a defensive optimism born of being deceived many times. Having seen too many "worthless monks and incompetent Daoists," he had already developed a considerable immunity.

The First Meeting: The Barrier of Appearance

Master Gao goes out to greet them. The first person he sees is Tang Sanzang, to whom he is perfectly polite; the second person he sees is the Pilgrim—the original text reads: "The old man saw his fierce and ugly appearance and did not dare to bow to him."

In Master Gao's eyes, Sun Wukong's appearance bore a resemblance to that of his "ugly-headed and strange-faced son-in-law." Master Gao's reaction at that moment was profoundly authentic; he complained in a low voice to Gao Cai: "You rascal, are you trying to kill me? I already have one ugly-headed and strange-faced son-in-law at home that I cannot get rid of; why have you brought this Thunder God to torment me?" This was a grievance blurted out under extreme pressure, yet it unintentionally revealed his true inner state: he had developed an instinctive distrust of anyone with an extraordinary appearance.

The Pilgrim's response was humorous and sharp: "I, Old Sun, may be ugly, but I possess some skill. If I capture the demon for your house, seize the ghosts and spirits, take hold of that son-in-law of yours, and return your daughter, would that not be a good thing? Why dwell so insistently on appearance?" To counter discrimination regarding appearance with a demonstration of ability—this was the Pilgrim's consistent style, and a gentle correction of Master Gao's narrow-mindedness.

Master Gao was "trembling, barely able to summon his spirit to call out: 'Please, come in.'" These words "trembling" capture the complex psychology of a mortal facing a supernatural being: fear, unease, and yet an inescapable dependence.

Master Gao's Narrative: A Father's Testimony

Once the host and guests were seated, Master Gao recounted the entire affair from the beginning. This narrative is one of the most complete representations of a mortal's perspective in the entire book and merits careful analysis.

There are several striking characteristics to Master Gao's account:

First, it is driven entirely by family interests. His core concern is not the safety of his daughter, Cuilan (though this is certainly among his worries), but rather "family honor"—"For a daughter to be claimed by a demon is not the proper way: first, it brings shame to the house, and second, it prevents any social ties with other families." This is the logic of a patriarch, not merely that of a father. The reputation of the household and the social network of the clan ("social ties with other families") are the reasons he lists first.

Second, his description of Zhu Ganglie is remarkably objective. Master Gao admits that when Zhu Ganglie first married into the family, he was "quite diligent," and acknowledges that while his appetite was enormous, he "still ate a vegetarian diet." This relatively balanced description is not a deliberate defense of Zhu Ganglie, but rather Master Gao's attempt to present the full picture truthfully so that the Pilgrim could judge the situation. This reflects a man who, having endured a prolonged crisis, no longer evaluates this strange father-in-law relationship through simple terms of "good" or "bad," but has reached a more complex understanding.

Third, the final straw that broke him was Cuilan's disappearance. "And as for my young daughter Cuilan, she has been locked in the back quarters; for half a year I have not seen her, nor do I know if she lives or dies." Only at this point does the emotion truly permeate Master Gao's voice. Before this, he could endure the appearance, the appetite, and the wind and thunder, but the severance of contact with his daughter caused him to lose all control. This was the most direct catalyst for his determination to expel the demon.

After listening to the account, the Pilgrim's question was concise: "Why is this difficult? Old man, rest assured; tonight I shall certainly seize him, make him write a document of divorce, and return your daughter. How does that sound?" Master Gao's response was equally direct: "It matters little that I brought him in, but how much of my reputation has been ruined, and how many relatives have I alienated? As long as he is captured, what need is there for a document? I only ask that you eradicate him completely."

This statement reaffirms Master Gao's core concerns: the restoration of his reputation and the recovery of family ties. The phrase "eradicate him completely" shows the thoroughness with which he wishes to handle the problem—he does not want a half-finished conclusion; he wants a clean end.

The Night Sun Wukong Subdues the Demon: A Father's Observation

Excluded from the Action

The Pilgrim asked Master Gao to show him the back quarters and told Gao Cai to carry the luggage and tend to the horses. After arranging everything, he said a key phrase to Master Gao: "I have no need of help; I only require a few elderly men of virtue to keep my Master company in quiet conversation, so that I may leave him behind."

This meant that for the entire night's operation to subdue the demon, Master Gao was an observer, not a participant. The Pilgrim excluded him from the core action in the most polite manner—leaving him to sit and drink tea and chat with Tang Sanzang while awaiting the result.

For Master Gao, this arrangement was a dual experience: on one hand, he could finally hand over the problem that had plagued him for three years to someone truly capable, bringing a sense of relief; on the other hand, he was forced to wait in the living room as a completely passive father for news of his daughter's fate, possessing no control over the situation.

This is the central metaphor for Master Gao's predicament: he is the head of the house, yet he cannot intervene in the most critical event happening within his own home; he can only wait.

Cuilan Reappears: The Moment of Reunion

The Pilgrim went first to the back quarters, smashed the copper lock, and told Master Gao to call his daughter.

"The old man summoned his courage and called: 'Third Sister!'" The phrase "summoned his courage" describes Master Gao's trepidation as he faced that locked door. On his own property, entering his own daughter's room, he still needed to "summon his courage." This absurd reversal is the psychological trauma left behind after three years of Zhu Ganglie's rule over the backyard.

"The daughter recognized her father's voice and answered faintly: 'Father, I am here.'"

Six words: "Father, I am here." This is one of the few moments of direct speech for Cuilan in the entire book, yet it captures one of the most touching human emotional moments in the story. She recognized her father's voice—for three years, she had been waiting, and she always knew what her father's voice sounded like. The description "faintly" indicates that the confinement of half a year without seeing the light of day had worn her down to extreme frailty.

"As she walked over and saw Old Gao, she grabbed him and wept loudly, head to head."

This is the only scene in the entire book where Master Gao and Cuilan have a direct emotional exchange. Father and daughter embrace and weep; there is no dialogue, only the sound of crying. This restrained emotional moment is made all the more powerful by its minimalism. Three years of anxiety and estrangement, and half a year of total silence, all surged forth in that moment, condensing into the phrase "wept loudly, head to head."

The Pilgrim's attitude was practical: "Stop crying, stop crying. I ask you, where has the demon gone?" He had no time for the father and daughter's sentimentality; the mission was not yet finished. He sent Master Gao to take Cuilan to the front courtyard so they could "slowly catch up," while he remained alone in the back quarters to wait for the demon.

The Father in Waiting

For the entire night, Master Gao sat in the front hall with Tang Sanzang and several elderly relatives, "discussing the past and present, sleepless through the night." The original text uses only these few words to describe Master Gao's state that night, yet it leaves a vast space for the imagination.

What was he thinking about? Was he worried that the Pilgrim truly could not subdue the demon? Was he worried about Cuilan's condition? Was he secretly calculating what to do if the Pilgrim also failed? The original text provides no answers, merely leaving him on the periphery of the narrative, waiting in silence.

When dawn broke and the Pilgrim returned, he announced that the demon had escaped back to his home mountain and could not be captured for the time being. Master Gao's reaction was to kneel on the spot and implore the Pilgrim to eradicate the demon completely: "I will have my family's wealth and lands documented by my relatives and divided equally with the Elder. I only ask that you cut the grass to remove the roots, so as not to stain the pure virtue of the Gao family." (Chapter 19)

Trading family wealth and land for a definitive conclusion—this was the highest price Master Gao was willing to pay. He no longer cared for money; he cared only for that "pure virtue": the brand of the Gao family had to be preserved, clean and untarnished.

Zhu Bajie's Subjugation: An Absurd Curtain Call

The Pilgrim Brings Back the "Son-in-Law"

Sun Wukong set out once more, and after a fierce battle, finally moved Zhu Ganglie with the great righteousness of Guanyin. (As it turned out, Zhu Ganglie had long been entrusted by the Bodhisattva to await the pilgrims). Wukong bound him by the back and hauled him by the ear back to Gao Family Manor.

This scene reaches a dramatic peak: the captured "son-in-law" is stumbled into the front of the manor, witnessed by Old Gao and the rest of the Gao clan. The original text reads: "The kinsfolk of the Gao family and Old Gao suddenly saw the Pilgrim bringing the monster back, bound by the back and hauled by the ear. One by one, they joyfully welcomed him into the courtyard, crying, 'Elder, Elder, he is indeed our son-in-law!'"—"Joyfully" here denotes a sense of delight. The gathered relatives were thrilled because the monster that had plagued the entire village for three years had finally been subdued.

However, the subsequent turn of events defied all expectations. Zhu Ganglie knelt before Tang Sanzang and recounted how Guanyin had commanded him to wait here for the pilgrims. Overjoyed, Sanzang formally ordained him and gave him the precepts. From then on, his dharma name became Zhu Wuneng, and as the second in rank, he became an official member of the pilgrimage party—this was Zhu Bajie.

For Master Gao, this outcome was utterly unexpected. He had hoped for the "root to be pulled"—for the demon to vanish entirely. Instead, not only did the demon survive, but he transformed in a flash into a holy monk journeying to the West for scriptures! This reversal of the ending tells Master Gao, through a kind of absurd comedy, that the logic of the world of gods and demons is never the same as the logic of the mortal world.

Zhu Bajie and His Father-in-Law: A Severed Bond

After joining the party, Zhu Bajie did several things that were quite touching in their humanity.

He stepped forward, grabbed Master Gao, and asked, "Father, how about I ask my clumsy wife to come out and pay her respects to my father-in-law and uncles?"—he still called Master Gao "Father," referred to Cuilan as his "clumsy wife," and wanted Cuilan to formally greet her father and relatives. The scene is almost comical: Zhu Bajie was about to become a monk, yet he still adhered to the etiquette of a son-in-law, wishing to put a dignified period at the end of this absurd marriage.

The Pilgrim laughed and dissuaded him: "Dear Brother, since you have entered the Sangha and become a monk, from this day forward, never mention that 'clumsy wife' again."

After the feast, as Zhu Bajie followed his Master westward, he turned back and shouted to Old Gao: "Father-in-law, take good care of my household! I fear if we fail to obtain the scriptures, I may return to secular life and continue being your son-in-law as before." This prompted the Pilgrim to scold him on the spot: "You blockhead, stop talking nonsense!" Yet, this was the most authentic revelation of Zhu Bajie's character: his deep longing for secular life and a certain reluctance to let go of that forcibly terminated "marriage."

As for Master Gao, once the excitement had passed, he could only watch the pilgrimage party depart for the West, while bearing the strangest legacy of the whole affair: he had a former son-in-law who was now a holy monk on a quest for scriptures, and a youngest daughter, Cuilan, who remained at home, continuing to dwell in the back quarters where she had been locked away six months prior.

Gold, Silver, and Clothing: Master Gao's Generosity and Restraint

Before the feast ended, Master Gao "brought out a red-lacquered tray containing two hundred taels of loose gold and silver as travel expenses for the three Elders; he also provided three cotton-cloth gowns as outer garments." Tang Sanzang politely declined the gold and silver, but the Pilgrim took a handful of the coins and gave them to Gao Cai as "guide money."

This scene illustrates Master Gao's way of handling social obligations: he was sincerely grateful, and he gave sincerely. Two hundred taels was a substantial gift for a Ming Dynasty country gentleman, not some token gesture. Meanwhile, the Pilgrim's unabashed manner—casually tossing gold and silver to a servant—was both a piece of humor and a subtle mockery of mortal views on money. To the immortals, the treasures mortals prize most are nothing more than trifles.

Zhu Bajie was more practical, taking the opportunity to ask for a pair of new shoes and a green brocade cassock. His request provided a superb comedic moment—just as he was about to enter the priesthood, he first settled accounts with his "father-in-law," listing the material compensations "owed" to him over the years. Master Gao, "hearing this, did not dare not to give." Facing the demon who had terrified him for three years, he was now completely unable to judge how to interact with him; he could only "not dare not to give," letting everything follow fate.

Gao Cuilan: The Narrative Void and the Limitations of the Father's Perspective

The Silent Protagonist

Throughout the story of Gao Family Manor, Gao Cuilan is an extremely peculiar presence: she is the central figure who triggers all the events, yet she possesses almost no independent narrative voice.

Cuilan's most direct lines in the original text are the words "Father, I am here" when called, and a brief exchange later: "I know not where they go. These days, they leave at dawn and return at night... because she knew her father wanted to drive him away, she was often on guard, and so she would come and go in the dark." (Chapter 18)

That is all. Her feelings about the three-year marriage, her attitude toward Zhu Ganglie, her subjective experience of being locked in the back quarters, her view of her father sending people to exorcise the demon—none of this is directly presented in Journey to the West.

This narrative silence is not an oversight, but a deliberate strategy. The perspective of Journey to the West is fundamentally that of men, heroes, and deities: the core characters are the master and disciples (all male), the antagonists are various demons (mostly male or shaped by a male gaze), and the mortal world is presented through the lens of male authority, such as fathers and clan elders. Cuilan's silence is a microcosm of the systemic marginalization of women throughout the novel.

Yet, this silence creates a strange tension in the narrative: what exactly was the nature of the three-year relationship between Cuilan and Zhu Ganglie? In his conversation with the Pilgrim (disguised as Cuilan), Zhu Ganglie poured out his grievances, listing all the good deeds he had done for the Gao family, his tone clearly aggrieved. He claimed, "When I first came, I spoke with her, and she agreed before she welcomed me"—if this is true, Cuilan initially accepted the marriage, and may have even experienced a period of adaptation or emotional investment before her attitude changed due to her father's wishes.

We will never know. Cuilan's inner world is the greatest narrative void in the Gao Family Manor story, and a symbolic incision representing the missing female perspective in the entirety of Journey to the West.

The Inherent Limitations of the Father's Perspective

Master Gao's narrative is based entirely on the perspective of a father and patriarch. All he can see are his own reputation, the dignity of his house, his daughter's safety (as he understands it), and the erosion of his social standing caused by this abnormal marriage.

He cannot directly perceive Cuilan's true feelings about the marriage, nor does he have the ability to enter the back quarters to visit her (the bronze lock was a barrier he could not cross). He can only piece together a blurred image of his daughter's situation through Gao Cai, the gossip of neighbors, and the occasional scrap of news.

The limitation of this perspective makes Master Gao's "fatherly love" appear both authentic and flawed: he truly loves Cuilan and is truly pained by her situation, but his love is always refracted through the prism of family interest, never truly centering on the daughter herself. When he pleads with the Pilgrim to "return your daughter," the "daughter" is rhetorically his possession, rather than an independent subject.

This limitation of fatherly love is a true reflection of traditional Chinese patriarchal culture. Wu Cheng'en embedded this into the character of Master Gao in a very natural way; he does not explicitly criticize it, yet he does not avoid its inherent contradictions.

The Exorcism Market: Folk Beliefs and the Ecology of Clergy

Three or Four Waves of Masters: A History of Failed Appeals

Gao Cai's purpose in traveling was to "seek out a master"—a phrase that reveals the operational logic of folk culture during the Ming Dynasty. In the world presented by Journey to the West, exorcising demons is neither the responsibility of the government nor something ordinary villagers can handle; rather, it is a specialized market. There are those who pay (Master Gao), those who provide the service (various monks and Daoists), and intermediaries (Gao Cai) who facilitate the transaction.

However, this market suffers from a severe failure of supply. Master Gao had "invited three or four people in succession, but they were all useless monks and incompetent Daoists who could not subdue that demon." Three or four people, all failing—this is not an isolated mistake, but a systemic failure of the entire folk exorcism service system. The original text is scathing in its evaluation of these masters, calling them "useless" and "incompetent," directly denying their abilities. Yet, this also subtly reveals a reality: in most cases, so-called "masters" in the folk tradition are merely ordinary people making a living through rituals and talismans. They might be effective against common superstitions, psychological suggestions, or minor hauntings, but when faced with an entity of divine or demonic caliber, they are utterly powerless.

The five coins of "travel expenses" given to Gao Cai, along with the gold and silver spent repeatedly to hire masters, constitute a tangible cost of exorcism. This suggests that in the historical context of Journey to the West, folk exorcism services had already become an industry with a complete pricing system, a network of intermediaries, and market competition—though quality varied wildly and regulation was non-existent.

The Limitations of Local Earth Gods

In the divine hierarchy of Journey to the West, the lowest-ranking clergy are the Earth Gods. An Earth God's duty is to guard a specific plot of land and report local conditions, but their magical powers are extremely limited. The Earth God of Gao Family Manor is entirely absent from the direct narrative in these two chapters, which is an implication in itself: facing a divine-level demon like Zhu Ganglie, who once served as Marshal Tianpeng, a mere Earth God is not even in the same league of power and has no way to intervene.

This design reveals an important logic of power within the worldview of Journey to the West: the divine realm has a strict hierarchy. When low-level deities (such as Earth Gods or Mountain Gods) face demons who were once high-ranking deities, they are equally powerless, making no fundamental difference from mortals. The masters that Master Gao could not find were, in the power hierarchy of gods and demons, no more effective.

Sun Wukong's Intervention: Power Beyond Conventional Services

The appearance of Sun Wukong finally breaks this deadlock. He is not a service provider "hired with money" by Master Gao, but enters the story through a chance encounter—and in the end, he does not accept Master Gao's offer of "splitting the family fortune and lands" as payment. The Pilgrim's attitude toward this is a mix of polite refusal and mockery.

The contrast between this "unpaid demon-subduer" and the "paid but incompetent masters" is a hidden critique by Journey to the West of the folk religious market: the power truly capable of solving the problem often exists outside this market system, while religious services based on monetary transactions are mostly performative and lack substantial efficacy.

Comparison with Other Mortal Fathers in Journey to the West

A Portrait of Mortal Fathers

Mortal fathers appear in various forms throughout Journey to the West, and Master Gao is one of the more detailed and three-dimensional characters. Compared to other mortal fathers, one can see the common traits of this character type and the uniqueness of Master Gao.

Chen Guangrui and his father: Tang Sanzang's grandfather and father appear in the narrative of Xuanzang's origins. They are relatively flat historical figures serving the narrative functions of "ancestral sin" and "wrongful conviction," with little character development.

The King of Zhuzi Kingdom: He is closer to the role of a "husband" than a father, seeking help from the pilgrimage party after losing his beloved wife. However, as a king, his status is entirely different from that of Master Gao, a local gentry—even when facing gods and demons, his power resources are far greater than Master Gao's.

The King of Chechi Kingdom: Controlled by three demon Daoists, he is unable to resist and is akin to a "figurehead king" sidelined by supernatural forces. His sense of helplessness is similar to Master Gao's, but his constraints in the political dimension are far more complex.

Among these figures, Master Gao's uniqueness lies in the fact that he is an ordinary member of the gentry. He has no royal power, no cultivation, and no supernatural protection. His predicament is the raw helplessness of a mortal facing a demon, with no buffer. This stark vulnerability actually makes him the father figure closest to the experience of the average reader.

The Common Theme of Helplessness

The collective plight of mortal fathers in Journey to the West can be summarized by a core theme: when facing supernatural forces, human order and human authority fail completely.

Master Gao's money cannot buy true magical power; his patriarchal authority cannot control the demon in his backyard; his familial affection cannot penetrate the copper lock to enter his daughter's room. All his worldly resources are useless before gods and demons. This failure is not a personal failure of Master Gao, but a structural predicament of the entire mortal world in the face of the divine and demonic order.

Through the character of Master Gao, Wu Cheng'en gently but firmly points out that worldly wealth, authority, and dignity are but a thin sheet of paper when facing true supernatural power—one gust of wind, and they are torn asunder.

The Literary Significance of Master Gao: Spokesman for the Ordinary

The Label of "Good Man" and Inner Complexity

In the character labeling system of Journey to the West, Master Gao is usually categorized as "mortal goodness"—he has done nothing evil and has never actively harmed anyone. But "goodness" does not equal "simplicity."

Master Gao is a "good man" with selfishness, calculations, and limitations. He loves his daughter, but also views her as a tool for inheriting the family estate; he is grateful to the Pilgrim, yet initially feels repulsion due to the latter's appearance; he longs for a clean reputation, yet he must have benefited from that supernatural labor during the years Zhu Ganglie helped him accumulate family wealth.

This inner complexity makes Master Gao far more interesting than a flat "good man." His "goodness" is that of an ordinary person: neither evil nor saintly, merely doing his best within his capacity to maintain his family and reputation, choosing to seek help when faced with an uncontrollable situation, choosing caution when the truth is unknown, and choosing awe when facing the power of gods and demons.

Gao Family Manor as a Mirror of the Mortal World

In the macro-structure of Journey to the West, Gao Family Manor serves an important narrative function: it is the first "mortal settlement" in a true sense on the journey to the scriptures, the place where ordinary human society and the divine order collide most directly.

Here, mortals (Master Gao's family and the villagers) cannot solve the supernatural problem themselves; the low-level deities of the divine realm (the Earth God) are equally powerless; the folk religious practitioners (the three or four waves of masters) fail completely; finally, only the pilgrimage party—representing the power of a higher divine order—can resolve the crisis.

This power hierarchy of "mortal $\to$ low-level deity $\to$ folk religion $\to$ high-level deity" is fully presented in the story of Gao Family Manor. Master Gao represents the bottom of this hierarchical structure; his helplessness is not a sign of weakness, but a structural necessity.

Master Gao's Narrative Role as a "Catalyst for the Pilgrimage"

From a narrative perspective, Master Gao is the "catalyst" for the key plot point of Zhu Bajie joining the party—his predicament triggers this series of events, his request prompts the Pilgrim to subdue the demon, and the process of subduing the demon happens to create the opportunity for Zhu Bajie to join the quest.

This catalyst role is extremely important in the narrative structure of Journey to the West. Zhu Bajie is the member with the richest personality and the most "earthly" quality in the entire party; his addition fundamentally changes the temperament and narrative possibilities of the group. Without Master Gao's predicament and the chance encounter with Gao Cai, the party might have met (or not met) Zhu Bajie in a completely different way—all these possibilities hinge upon the small courtyard of this local gentry.

In this sense, although Master Gao is a mortal, he plays an indispensable structural role in the grand narrative project of Journey to the West: he is the "doorman" for Zhu Bajie's story and the "entry point" through which the mortal world enters the narrative of gods and demons.

Deep Interpretation of Textual Details

The Symbolic Meaning of the Place Name "Gao Family Manor"

The name "Gao Lao Zhuang" (Gao Family Manor) carries a subtle symbolic weight. "Gao" is a surname—as most of the village shares it—but it can also be understood as a description of a state: being "high and mighty" or possessing an inflated sense of self-importance. Master Gao's status as a local gentry and his extreme preoccupation with "moral purity" and "reputation" indeed reflect an obsession with dignity and high social standing.

Yet, this "high" family happens to be infiltrated by a pig-faced demon who enters as a son-in-law. This contrast between the name and the actual circumstance constitutes a kind of latent humor unique to Wu Cheng'en: a family that views itself as superior finds itself in the most humiliating of predicaments.

The Imagery of the Copper Lock

The scene where Master Gao asks Xingzhe for the keys to open the back courtyard door is one of the most brilliant moments of irony in the entire book.

"Xingzhe said, 'Go fetch the keys.' Master Gao replied, 'Look here, if keys could do the trick, I wouldn't have asked for your help.'"

Master Gao cannot even produce the keys to his own daughter's room—because that lock is no ordinary lock. "Upon touching it, it turned out to be a lock cast from molten copper." A solid door lock forged from molten copper cannot be opened by a key; it is a supernatural means used by Zhu Ganglie to completely seal off the space. Xingzhe "struck it with the Ruyi Jingu Bang, smashing the door open"—only a divine artifact could open a door that ordinary tools could not even touch.

This copper lock is a perfect symbol for the entire plight of the Gao Family Manor: human tools (keys) are utterly useless against obstacles forged by gods and demons (the solid copper lock); only a higher level of supernatural power (the Ruyi Jingu Bang) can shatter that barrier.

Cuilan's Appearance: The Contrast Between Beauty and Wretchedness

When Xingzhe enters the back courtyard and uses his Fire-Golden Eyes to look at Cuilan, the original text employs a passage of exquisite description:

"Her cloud-like hair was heaped in disarray, uncombed; her jade countenance remained stained with the dust of the world. Her orchid-heart remained unchanged, yet her ten-fold grace had collapsed. Her cherry lips were void of blood and vigor, her waist slumped and frail. Her brow was knit in sorrow, her moth-eyebrows faded; thin and timid, her voice was low."

This description is one of the most delicate sketches of female appearance in the book, yet it does not describe beauty, but rather wretchedness. Disheveled hair, an unwashed face, a loss of vitality, and a frail posture—this is the price of six months of imprisonment. The line "her orchid-heart remained unchanged" is particularly vital: though her body has been worn down to extreme weakness, something within her—perhaps hope for her father, or a longing for a normal life—still persists.

Through Xingzhe's eyes, this description presents a daughter that Master Gao had never truly seen. He knew his daughter was suffering, but he could not see her in this state; he only knew from Gao Cai's words, or from behind the locked door, that her "life or death was unknown." When the true image is revealed, it is no longer for the father to see—it is for the reader, allowing them to understand exactly what price Cuilan had paid.

Analysis of Creative Background and Prototypes

The Reality of Matrilocal Marriage Culture in the Ming Dynasty

The plot point of Master Gao recruiting a son-in-law to marry into the family is based on a very real social foundation of the Ming Dynasty. The system of matrilocal marriage (u-zhui) was prevalent in Ming rural areas, especially in regions with developed commodity economies, serving as a common means for families without sons to maintain their lineage. The status of such a son-in-law was quite awkward: he was required to work, fulfill duties, and care for his in-laws, yet he often struggled to achieve truly equal status within the family—referred to as "entering through the back door," he was frequently looked down upon by the local community.

In Journey to the West, the setting of Zhu Ganglie marrying into the Gao family pushes the awkwardness of this culture to the extreme: a former Marshal Tianpeng humbling himself to marry into a gentry household, playing the role of a supporting son-in-law with the face of a pig. This extreme dislocation of identity is, in itself, a profound comedy.

Wu Cheng'en's touch here is gentle: he does not portray Zhu Ganglie's status as a son-in-law as purely evil. Zhu Ganglie worked hard, was diligent, and accumulated wealth, fulfilling the basic duties of an ideal son-in-law. Master Gao's ultimate desire to expel him is driven not primarily by Zhu Ganglie's malice (as he never truly harmed Cuilan), but by considerations of "reputation." This nuanced treatment demonstrates Wu Cheng'en's deep observation and understanding of the Ming Dynasty's matrilocal marriage system.

The Social Ecology of Exorcism Rituals in the Ming Dynasty

The narrative that Master Gao "had invited three or four masters of the law, one after another" reflects the actual ecology of exorcism and blessing services in Ming society. Folk beliefs in the Ming Dynasty were extremely diverse, with Buddhism, Daoism, and shamanism existing side-by-side. Everywhere, there were professional practitioners who made a living by slaying demons and capturing ghosts—ranging from orthodox Buddhist temples and Daoist monasteries to wandering occultists.

The abilities of these people varied wildly. While there were many frauds who relied on rituals to play the part of gods, there were also sincere practitioners who had mastered folk magical traditions. However, they were facing the lowest tier of monstrous power in the Journey to the West supernatural system—against a truly powerful demon like Zhu Ganglie, who had once been Marshal Tianpeng, they were completely out of their depth.

Wu Cheng'en's assessment of these "worthless monks and bloated Daoists" is harsh, but not without cause. Through Master Gao's journey of seeking help, he illustrates a real dilemma: in the market of folk belief, those truly capable of solving fundamental problems are extremely rare, while practitioners who charge fees under religious banners but produce no results are ubiquitous.

Wu Cheng'en's Humanistic Concern

The character of Master Gao embodies Wu Cheng'en's humanistic concern for the fate of ordinary people at the bottom (or middle) of society. Wu Cheng'en himself came from a scholarly family but faced a turbulent career, spending much of his life in the middle social strata, which gave him direct insight and sympathy for the psychology and plight of the gentry class.

The predicament Master Gao faces—having no son, a daughter possessed by a demon, a damaged reputation, and no one to turn to for help—is a universal human suffering. It has nothing to do with gods or demons, nor with spiritual cultivation; it is simply the most common, yet most agonizing, kind of hardship among the joys and sorrows of birth, aging, sickness, and death: the helplessness of being unable to protect one's closest loved ones or resist a power greater than one's own.

Wu Cheng'en does not mock Master Gao, nor does he romanticize him. He simply presents the struggle of an ordinary man in an extraordinary situation—and, through an unexpected conclusion, provides Master Gao with a form of solace: his predicament is eventually resolved, though in a manner entirely beyond his expectations.

Possibilities for Gamification and Creative Extension

Functional Analysis of Master Gao's Role

In the context of game design or adaptation, Master Gao is a typical "Quest NPC"—he issues the quest (exorcism), provides information (the demon's situation), gives rewards (silver and clothing), and provides a location (Gao Family Manor as a base). He has no combat ability and no magic, but he is the narrative hub that drives the critical plot point of Zhu Bajie joining the party.

In game adaptations based on Journey to the West, Master Gao often appears as the following types of roles:

• Quest Giver (providing quest lines such as "Rescue Cuilan" or "Subdue the Pig Demon")
• Information Provider (describing Zhu Ganglie's abilities and behavioral patterns)
• Social Background NPC (representing the reaction of the mortal world to supernatural intrusions)

His emotional depth (father-daughter affection, obsession with reputation, awe of the supernatural) provides this "Quest NPC" with a narrative thickness that transcends mere functionality.

Unresolved Narrative Gaps

Master Gao's story leaves several narrative gaps that are never filled, and these gaps themselves are rich veins for creative extension:

Cuilan's Inner World: Was her feeling toward Zhu Ganglie one of fear, indifference, or did she, at some moment, experience acceptance or even emotional investment? What did she think about every day during her six months of imprisonment?

The Daily Life of Three Years: Master Gao lived day and night with this pig-faced son-in-law; were there ever any non-adversarial daily interactions between them? Did Master Gao ever attempt to "accept" this son-in-law? Between the failed attempts to exorcise the demon, how did his heart swing between resistance and endurance?

Cuilan's Fate After Marriage: After Zhu Bajie left, whom did Cuilan marry? Or did she remain a lonely maiden, spending the rest of her life burdened by the reputation of having "once been a demon's wife"? Was the "moral purity" Master Gao worried about ever truly restored?

Master Gao's Later Years: After the pilgrimage party departed and the "supporting son-in-law" was gone, how was the succession of the Gao Family Manor resolved? In the end, what path did Master Gao find to resolve the childless predicament he so feared?

Journey to the West leaves these questions unanswered, providing infinite imaginative space for readers and future creators.

Creative Potential of the Father-in-Law and Son-in-Law Relationship

The interrupted "father-in-law and son-in-law relationship" between Master Gao and Zhu Bajie possesses immense comedic and tragic potential for literary adaptation.

On one hand, it is an utterly absurd comedy: a heavenly marshal marrying into a gentry family, performing the rites of a son-in-law with a pig's face, accumulating vast wealth, and then, upon being driven away, still inquiring about the whereabouts of his "dear wife."

On the other hand, it could be a genuine human tragedy: an immortal, punished by Heaven and wrongly reborn as a pig, struggling to find a sense of belonging in the lowest human identity—that of a matrilocal son-in-law—only to be taken away again by a religious mission, leaving behind a strange yet real human existence.

Master Gao, as the "father-in-law" of this relationship, is the hub connecting these two narrative possibilities. His acceptance (initial recruitment), rejection (exorcism efforts), reluctant acceptance (hosting the pilgrims), and final release (watching Zhu Bajie depart for the West)—the psychological changes across these four stages form a complete emotional arc sufficient to support an independent literary work.

Epilogue: After Gao Family Manor

Master Gao stood at the entrance of the manor, watching the three monks—one riding a horse, one carrying a shoulder pole, and one wielding an iron staff—head west until they vanished at the end of the road.

He had just endured the most concentrated burst of supernatural chaos in all of Journey to the West. Three years of anxiety, three years of failed exorcisms, and three years of tarnished reputation had all come to an end in a mere two days—in a manner he could never have anticipated.

The demon was not destroyed; instead, he had become a monk.

His daughter had returned, but the position of the "retirement son-in-law" remained vacant.

The family fortune and lands were intact, and his reputation could slowly begin to recover—the joke about the "Gao family recruiting a demon son-in-law" would eventually fade from the memories of the neighbors.

Master Gao represents the most ordinary kind of person in Journey to the West: possessing no divine powers, no miraculous encounters (save for being swept up in the encounters of others), and no chance at immortality. He possessed only the most common predicaments and the most common desires of a mortal. His name is simply "Taigong," a nameless title, a designation without a surname—he is not a historical figure or a mythological hero, but merely one of thousands upon thousands of gentry fathers of that era.

Yet, it is precisely for this reason that he is the most authentic presence in the entire epic: a man living on the periphery of tales of gods and demons, changed by those tales, yet remaining, always, simply a father.

He will never walk the road to the Western Heaven. He must return to the manor, see Cuilan, and continue with his life. What he does not know is that his former pig-faced son-in-law is currently carrying a load of luggage, humming some unknown tune, following a white horse step by step toward a distant horizon that no mortal shall ever reach.

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Master Gao appears in chapters eighteen and nineteen of the original text, and shares narrative intersections with Sun Wukong, Tang Sanzang, Zhu Bajie, Sha Monk, and the Earth Gods.