Chapter 23: Tripitaka Does Not Forget His Root; the Four Saints Test His Chan Heart

The road of ritual from the West is long and far;
autumn wind rustles, frost blossoms fall.
The clever ape is locked fast, the rope must not be loosed;
the stubborn horse must be bitted well, the whip not laid on.
Wood Mother and Metal Lord were made to join from the start;
Yellow Granny and the Red Child were never meant to differ.
Bite through the iron pellet and the true message is found;
Prajna Paramita ferries one to that far house.

This whole chapter tells of the road to the scriptures, and how it is never apart from the road of keeping to one's proper root. Now then: the four disciples had understood thusness and at once broken the locks of dust. They leapt out of the sea of nature and the drifting sands, with not a single tether left, and headed west along the great road. Green hills and clear waters passed before their eyes; wild grass and idle flowers could not be fully counted.

Truly, the years were swift. Again it was the ninth autumn month, and what did they see?

Maple leaves redden every hill; yellow blooms endure the evening wind.
Old cicadas sing more and more lazily; sorrowing crickets brood without end.
Lotus leaves are torn like green silk fans; oranges give off the scent of golden pellets.
And look at those few lines of wild geese, dotting the far-off empty sky.

They were walking on when night fell. Tripitaka said, "Disciples, the sky is dark again. Where shall we rest?"

The Pilgrim said, "Master, that way of speaking is not right. A monk eats the wind and sleeps by the water, lies down with the moon and the frost. Everywhere is home. Why ask where to rest?"

Bajie said, "Brother, you know your own steps are light. You do not carry what others carry. Since we crossed the Flowing Sands, we have been climbing hills and crossing ridges, and I have had to bear the luggage all the while. That is a hard thing to endure. We ought to find a house, beg a little tea and food, and rest our spirits. That would make good sense."

The Pilgrim said, "Idiot, when you talk like that, you sound as if you are already complaining. It is just like your old comfort in Gao Village, too lazy to seek your own fortune. If you truly intend to be an upright monk, you must be willing to eat hardship before you can count as a disciple."

Bajie said, "Brother, just look at how heavy this luggage is."

The Pilgrim said, "Brother, since you and Brother Sha have come along, I have never carried it myself. How should I know how heavy it is?"

Bajie said, "Brother, count the pieces yourself. Four strips of yellow rattan, tied with eight cords of different lengths. Then there is the rain cover with three or four layers of felt. The flat pole is still slippery, so there are nails driven into both ends. Then there is the golden-ring staff with copper fittings and iron work, and the great cloak wrapped in rattan strips. With so much luggage, it is no easy thing for me, old Pig, to bear it day after day. Yet you follow Master as a disciple, while I am taken for a hired porter."

The Pilgrim laughed. "Idiot, who are you talking to?"

Bajie said, "Brother, I am talking to you."

The Pilgrim said, "Then you have chosen the wrong man. Old Sun only takes charge of Master's safety. You and Brother Sha are in charge of the luggage and the horse. If you are careless by even a little, the first thing you will get is a beating across the legs with my rough rod."

Bajie said, "Brother, do not talk about beating. Beating is only strength used to overbear people. I know you are proud by nature and would never take up the luggage. But Master's horse is so tall and fat, and it only carries the old monk. Let it carry a few things as well. That is brotherly feeling."

The Pilgrim said, "You call it a horse, but it is no ordinary horse. It is the third prince, son of Ao Run, Dragon King of the Western Sea, called the Dragon Horse. Because he set fire to the bright pearl in the palace hall, his father denounced him as unfilial, and he committed a heavenly offense. Luckily, Guanyin saved his life. He waited for Master there at Eagle-Sorrow Ravine, and only when the bodhisattva came herself did she strip off his scales and horns and take the pearl from his throat. Then he changed into this horse and was willing to carry Master west to worship the Buddha. This is each person's own merit and karma. Do not compare yourself to him."

Sha Wujing said, "Brother, is it really a dragon?"

"It is a dragon," said the Pilgrim.

Bajie said, "Brother, I have heard the ancients say that dragons can blow clouds and breathe mist, raise dust and sand, and have the skill to climb over mountain ridges and the power to turn rivers and stir seas. How is it that he walks so slowly today?"

The Pilgrim said, "If you want him to go fast, I will show you fast."

The Great Sage gave the Golden-Hooped Rod a twist, and ten thousand bands of colored cloud sprang up. The horse saw the staff and feared a beating so much that all four hooves flew like lightning. It bolted away in a rush. Tripitaka, his hands weak on the reins, could not hold it. Letting loose its wicked nature, the horse went straight up a mountain slope and only then slowed to a stumbling walk.

At last Tripitaka steadied his breath and, lifting his head, saw far off a cluster of pine shade, with several rooms beneath it, lofty and imposing. What did he see?

Green cypresses hung before the gate; blue hills pressed close around the house.
A few pines stood in repeated ranks; several stalks of bamboo showed speckled trunks.
By the fence, wild chrysanthemums held the bright frost; beside the bridge, hidden orchids mirrored the red of water.
The walls were packed with white clay and ringed in brick.
The halls were grand and stately; the great chambers calm and clean.
No cattle or sheep were in sight, no chickens or dogs either; perhaps the autumn harvest had left the household at ease.

Tripitaka checked his reins and looked around slowly. The Pilgrim brothers soon arrived. Brother Sha said, "Master, you did not fall from the horse, did you?"

The elder scolded, "That wild monkey, Sun Wukong, frightened the horse. It is only because I still managed to ride it that nothing happened."

The Pilgrim smiled and said, "Do not blame me, Master. It was Bajie who complained that the horse was too slow, so I had him go faster."

That idiot, having chased after the horse and run himself hot, was puffing and muttering. "Enough, enough. My belly is attached to me, not my waist. The load is heavy, and I cannot lift it, yet I am made to run back and forth after the horse."

Tripitaka said, "Disciples, look over there. There is a house. We can take lodging there."

The Pilgrim looked up at once. Indeed, he saw clouds of good omen filling the sky and auspicious mist hanging thick. He understood that it was certainly some Buddhist or immortal transformation, but he dared not reveal the secret of Heaven. So he said only, "Good, good, good. We will go and ask lodging there."

Tripitaka quickly dismounted. There stood a gate tower with hanging lotus eaves, painted beams, and carved rafters. Brother Sha set down the luggage, and Bajie led the horse. "This family is a rich and comfortable household indeed."

The Pilgrim was about to go in, but Tripitaka said, "No. We are monks. Each of us should avoid suspicion. Do not enter recklessly. Let us wait until someone comes out, then ask politely for lodging."

Bajie tied the horse and leaned sideways against the wall. Tripitaka sat on a stone drum. The Pilgrim and Brother Sha sat by the step.

No one came out for a long while. The Pilgrim was impatient. He sprang up and went inside to look. There were three halls facing south, with curtains hanging high. On the screen door was a hanging painting of Mount Shoushan and the Sea of Blessings. On the vermilion pillars at both sides was a couplet written on red paper:

"Silk drifts from the weak willow over the level bridge at dusk;
snow dots the fragrant plum in the little courtyard of spring."

In the middle stood a black lacquer incense table with a polished sheen, and on it a bronze beast-shaped censer. There were six armchairs, and at both ends hung four seasonal screens.

As the Pilgrim was sneaking a look, he suddenly heard footsteps from the back gate. Out came a woman who was neither old nor young, and she asked in a sweet voice, "What sort of person has broken into a widow's gate?"

The Great Sage hurriedly said, "This little monk is from the Eastern Land of Great Tang, traveling west by imperial command to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. The four of us passed by your precious place, and since the sky is already late, we have hurried to the home of this old bodhisattva to ask for one night's lodging."

The woman smiled and came forward to welcome him. "Elder, where are the other three? Please bring them in."

The Pilgrim shouted, "Master, please come in."

Only then did Tripitaka, with Bajie and Brother Sha, lead the horse and carry the luggage inside. The woman came out of the hall to greet them. Bajie half-closed his eyes and stole a look. How was she dressed?

She wore a woven, official-green silk jacket with a pale red sleeveless vest over it; around her waist was a gathered goose-yellow embroidered skirt, with high-soled flowered shoes below. Her hair was dressed in the latest style under a black gauze scarf, matched with a two-colored coiled-dragon coiffure. An ivory comb of palace style, bright with red and green, was set slantwise in two golden hairpins. Clouds of hair, half gray, spread like phoenix wings; her earrings dangled in pairs with strings of jewels. She wore no powder at all and was still lovely, with a graceful air like a young woman.

Seeing the four of them, the woman was even more delighted and invited them in with courtesy. After each had exchanged greetings, she asked them to sit and offered tea. From behind the screen a little maid with a knotted topknot came out, carrying a golden tray and white jade cups. The tea steamed with fragrance, and strange fruits gave off a subtle scent.

The woman lifted her colorful sleeves, her hands slender as spring bamboo shoots. She raised the jade cups and served the tea, bowing to each of them in turn. After the tea, she ordered a vegetarian meal prepared.

Tripitaka folded his hands and said, "Old bodhisattva, what is your honored surname? And what is the name of this place?"

The woman said, "This is the land of the Western Continent of Oxen. My maiden family name is Jia, and my husband's family name was Mo. I was unlucky in youth; my parents-in-law died early, and I lived with my husband to continue the ancestral estate. We had wealth worth ten thousand strings and fertile land for a thousand qing. Yet the two of us were fated to have no son, and only three daughters were born to us. Two years ago another great misfortune struck, and I lost my husband as well. I have been widowed, and this year my mourning has ended. There remains only land, property, and household business, with no relatives or kin except my girls and me to take charge of it. If I were to marry again, it would be hard to part with the estate.

"Now that you holy monks have descended here, I see four travelers, and I, with my daughters, am four women in the house. I had it in mind to sit on the mountain and recruit sons-in-law. The four of you are quite suitable. I do not know whether you would be willing."

Tripitaka heard this and pretended to be deaf and dumb, closing his eyes and settling his heart. He made no answer at all.

The woman said, "In my house there are more than three hundred qing of rice fields, another three hundred of dry fields, and another three hundred of orchards and forests. There are more than a thousand yellow water buffaloes, herds of mules and horses, and countless pigs and sheep. To the east, south, west, and north there are sixty or seventy farms, stockyards, and pasture lands. There are rice and grain in the house that have not been used in eight or nine years, silk and gauze that have not been worn in ten years, and gold and silver that have never even been touched. It is far better than hiding spring in a brocade tent. What need is there to speak of two rows of gold hairpins? If you masters are willing to change your minds and take a son-in-law in our humble home, you could enjoy comfort and wealth at your ease. Would that not be much better than laboring westward in hardship?"

Tripitaka only sat there, as if he were a child struck by thunder or a frog drenched by rain: dull-eyed, slack-jawed, and unable to speak.

Bajie heard such wealth and such beauty that his heart itched unbearably. Sitting in the chair, he was like someone with a needle in his backside, twisting left and right, unable to hold still. At last he stepped forward, tugged on his master, and said, "Master, this lady is speaking to you. Why do you act like you have not heard? You ought to answer her."

The elder lifted his head in anger and shouted, driving Bajie back. "You evil beast! We are monks. How can wealth move our hearts, or beauty make us pay attention? What sort of Way would that be?"

The woman laughed. "Pity, pity. What is so good about being a monk?"

Tripitaka said, "Bodhisattva, what is so good about being a householder?"

The woman said, "Elder, please sit. Let me tell you the good of a householder. How do I know it? I have a verse to prove it."

In spring, cut the square-cut silks and wear new gauze;
in summer, change to light gauze and admire the green lotus.
In autumn there is fresh fermented sweet rice wine;
in winter, the warm chamber turns flushed faces red.
Every season has comforts of every kind;
every festival has delicate dishes of every sort.
Brocade bedding and silk quilts, candlelit nights of flowers,
are far better than walking on foot to worship Amitabha.

Tripitaka said, "Bodhisattva, householders do indeed enjoy wealth and splendor. They have clothes to wear, food to eat, children gathered around them, and they are truly blessed. But I also have a good place to speak for monks. How do I know it? I have a verse to prove it."

The monk who has set his heart on leaving home is no common man;
he overturns the hall of old affection built in former days.
Outside things do not stir idle gossip;
within the body itself there is good yin and yang.
When practice is complete and conduct fulfilled, one can face the Golden Gate;
when one's nature is seen and the heart made bright, one returns to the old home.
This is far better than clinging to blood offerings in the household,
only to fall at last into a stinking skin-bag.

The woman flew into a rage. "This rude monk! If you had not come all the way from the Eastern Land, I should have driven you out at once. I truly and sincerely meant to offer you my estate and take you in as sons-in-law, and you answer me with words that wound. Even if you have taken vows, made vows, and will never return to the world, the men under you could still be matched to one of my daughters. Why do you insist on being so rigid?"

Tripitaka saw her anger and had no choice but to soften himself and say, "Wukong, stay here."

The Pilgrim said, "I have never in my life understood such business. Let Bajie stay here."

Bajie said, "Brother, do not pin this on me. Let us all think it through slowly."

Tripitaka said, "If neither of you will stay, then let Brother Sha stay."

Brother Sha said, "Listen to what Master is saying. I was converted and given the precepts by the bodhisattva herself, and I have only been waiting for my master. Since Master took me in and has instructed me, I have followed him for not even two months and still have not gained the least bit of merit. How could I dare think of such wealth? I would rather die than go west? I would never do something so heartless."

Seeing that they all refused, the woman turned and went behind the screen, slamming the side gate shut. The disciples were left outside, with no tea and no food, and no one came out again.

Bajie grew restless and grumbled at Tripitaka. "Master, you are terrible at handling things. You said everything too bluntly. If you had kept a little room to maneuver, you could have gone along with her, eaten your fill, and taken a night of comfort. Tomorrow whether to stay or not would still depend on us. Now that the gate is shut and no one comes out, how are we supposed to spend the night on this cold ash and chill stove?"

Brother Sha said, "Second Brother, why not just become a son-in-law in her house?"

Bajie said, "Brother, do not pin things on me. Let us think it over carefully."

The Pilgrim said, "What is there to think over? If you are willing, let Master become the son-in-law by marriage, and you can be the live-in groom. Their household has so much property and treasure that they would surely add a dowry as well. They could set up a wedding feast for both families, and we would get some good use out of it too. You could return to lay life here. Would that not make everyone happy?"

Bajie said, "That way of speaking makes sense enough, but if I leave the world only to return to it, that would be like putting away one wife and marrying another."

Brother Sha said, "Second Brother, so you already have a wife?"

The Pilgrim said, "You still do not know him. He was once the son-in-law of Old Gao in Gao Village of the Western Tang lands. I subdued him. He too received the bodhisattva's precepts, but had no choice. I captured him and made him a monk, so he abandoned his former wife and followed Master west to worship the Buddha. He must have been separated from her for a long time, and now that he hears of this, he cannot help himself. Idiot, just be this family's son-in-law. All you need do is bow to Old Sun a few more times, and I will not report you."

The idiot said, "Nonsense, nonsense. All of you are thinking it, and only old Pig is made a fool of. As the saying goes, monks are starving ghosts for color. Who does not want this? Yet everyone must keep making a show of refusal, and the good thing has been spoiled. Now we have neither tea nor water to see, and no one tending the lamps. Though we have lost a whole night, that horse must still carry people tomorrow and keep traveling. If it goes another night hungry, we will have to skin it. Sit still and let old Pig go lead it to graze."

The idiot hurriedly untied the reins and led the horse out.

The Pilgrim said, "Brother Sha, stay with Master here for a moment, and let Old Sun follow him to see where he leads the horse."

Tripitaka said, "Wukong, go keep watch, but do not keep making fun of him."

The Pilgrim said, "I know."

The Great Sage left the hall and changed at once into a red dragonfly, flying out the front gate after Bajie.

That idiot led the horse along. When there was grass, he did not let it graze, but hurried it clatteringly around to the back gate. There he saw the woman standing with her three daughters, looking idly at the chrysanthemums and amusing themselves. When they saw Bajie coming, the three girls slipped back inside.

The woman stood at the gate and asked, "Where is the little monk going?"

The idiot dropped the reins, stepped forward, and gave a salute. "Mother, I came to lead the horse."

The woman said, "Your master is too clever for his own good. Would it not be better to become a son-in-law in my house than to stay a hanging monk and trudge westward?"

Bajie laughed. "They are serving the Tang King's order. They dare not disobey the imperial command, and so they will not do it. Just now they all pinned me down in the front hall, and I am already somewhat embarrassed and ashamed. I only fear that you dislike my long mouth and big ears."

The woman said, "I do not dislike them. It is only that my household needs a master. Taking one in would do. I fear only that my little daughters may think you ugly."

Bajie said, "Mother, tell your daughters not to be so picky about men. Though my Master is handsome in appearance, he is really no good. I may be ugly, but I can say a few couplets."

The woman said, "How do you mean?"

Bajie said:

Though my face is ugly, I am diligent and can work.
If you speak of a thousand acres, no ox need plow.
Just one swing of my rake is enough to sow in season.
Need rain? I can beg for rain. Need wind? I can call the wind.
If the house seems low, I can raise it two or three stories.
If the ground needs sweeping, I can sweep it clean at once.
Ditches and drains, village and household matters of every kind,
I can kick at heaven and stir up wells; there is nothing I cannot do.

The woman said, "If you are fit to manage household affairs, then go speak with your master again. If there is no awkwardness, we will take you in."

Bajie said, "No need to ask him. He is not my birth father or mother. Whether I do it or not is entirely up to me."

The woman said, "Very well, very well. Let me talk to my daughters." She slipped inside and shut the back gate with a thump.

Bajie did not bother to graze the horse. He led it forward instead. Little did he know that the Great Sage had already seen and heard everything. The Pilgrim flapped his wings, returned to his true form, and came first to Tripitaka, saying, "Master, Bajie has brought the horse."

Tripitaka said, "If the horse were not led back, it might bolt away."

The Pilgrim laughed and recounted from beginning to end what the woman and Bajie had said. Tripitaka half-believed and half-doubted him.

After a little while, the idiot came leading the horse and tied it up.

Tripitaka said, "Have you let the horse graze?"

Bajie said, "There was no good grass, and nowhere to graze it."

The Pilgrim said, "No place to graze it, but a place to lead it around, was there?"

Hearing that, the idiot knew the secret had leaked. He lowered his head, twisted his neck, pursed his mouth, and frowned for a long while without speaking.

Then there was an "ah" from the back gate. The side door opened, and out came two pairs of red lanterns and a hanging censer. Fragrant clouds drifted, jade pendants jingled, and the woman came out with her three daughters. She called them Zhenzhen, Aiai, and Lianlian and had them bow before the scripture-seeker.

The girls lined up in the hall and bowed to the upper seat. They were indeed lovely to behold. How did they look?

Their brows curved like moth wings, and powder lit their faces like spring.
Their charm could topple a kingdom; their grace could move a heart.
Flower ornaments showed all their lovely air;
embroidered ribbons floated, remote from all dust.
When they half-smiled, cherries seemed to bloom;
as they walked, orchids and musk seemed to rise around them.
Their hair was full of pearls and jade, countless hairpins trembling there;
their whole bodies breathed a hidden fragrance, sweet with flower-threaded silk.
Do not speak of the beauty of Chu women or the grace of Xi Shi.
Truly, they were heavenly maidens sent down from the ninth sky, or Chang'e from the Cold Palace.

Tripitaka folded his hands and lowered his head. The Great Sage pretended not to care. Brother Sha turned his back. But look at Bajie: his eyes never moved, his lust in disorder, his courage for desire running wild. He twisted himself into a shy smile and said in a low voice, "Thank you for descending, immortal ladies. Mother, please send the elder sisters in."

The three daughters turned behind the screen, leaving behind a pair of gauze lamps.

The woman said, "Masters, would any of you be willing to keep company with my daughters? Which one of you should marry them?"

Brother Sha said, "We have already agreed that the pig-named one should take a son-in-law's place."

Bajie said, "Brother, do not pin this on me. Let us decide according to everyone else's wishes."

The Pilgrim said, "What more is there to decide? You already made the match behind the back gate. You even called her 'mother.' What more is there to discuss? Let Master be the male in-law, let this old woman be the female in-law, let Old Sun serve as guarantor, and let Brother Sha act as matchmaker. There is no need to consult the almanac; today is a day blessed by Heaven itself. Go and bow to Master, then enter and be a son-in-law."

Bajie said, "That cannot be done, that cannot be done. How can I do such a thing?"

The Pilgrim said, "Idiot, do not be noisy. You have called her mother no one knows how many times. What do you mean, it cannot be done? Hurry and agree. We can even get to drink the wedding wine, which would not be a bad thing."

With one hand he seized Bajie and with the other he took the woman by the arm. "Mother-in-law, take your son-in-law inside."

The idiot staggered and stumbled as if he were being led somewhere against his will. The woman immediately called the maidservant and said, "Arrange the tables and chairs, lay out the evening meal, and wait on the three in-laws. I will lead my son-in-law into the inner rooms." She also ordered the cook to prepare a feast for the next morning's meeting of the families. The children all obeyed.

The three of them ate their meal and were quickly settled into the guest room to sleep.

As for Bajie, he followed his would-be mother-in-law through one room after another. There were no telling how many rooms, and he stumbled over threshold after threshold. The idiot said, "Mother, go a little slower. I am not used to this inside road. Please lead me carefully."

The woman said, "These are the granary rooms, the store rooms, the milling rooms, and the rest. We have not yet reached the kitchen side."

Bajie said, "What a grand household."

After a long while, twisting through corners and turns, they reached the inner hall. The woman said, "Son-in-law, your brothers said that today is a day blessed by Heaven, so we have taken you in at once. But since it was sudden, we did not manage to invite a matchmaker or a geomancer, nor to conduct a proper wedding or bridal ritual. You can simply bow eight times toward the upper seat."

Bajie said, "Mother, that is just right. Please sit up high and let me bow a few times. That can count as the wedding ceremony and the thanks for taking me in at once. It saves trouble, does it not?"

The mother-in-law laughed. "Very well, very well. Truly you are a husband who knows how to save trouble. I will sit while you bow."

In the bright silver candlelight, that idiot bowed to the upper seat. After he finished, he said, "Mother, which sister do you mean to give me?"

The mother-in-law said, "That is exactly the hard part. If I give you the eldest, I fear the second will resent it. If I give you the second, I fear the third will resent it. If I give you the third, I fear the eldest will resent it. That is why I have not yet decided."

Bajie said, "Mother, if you are afraid of them quarreling, just give them all to me. That way we will save the noise and keep the family rules from getting upset."

The mother-in-law said, "What nonsense is that? One man taking all three of my daughters? Impossible!"

Bajie said, "Listen to what you say, Mother. Who does not have three wives and four concubines? If there are more, your son-in-law will gladly accept them too. In my youth I once learned a method for fierce combat, and I can manage each of them so that they will be pleased."

The woman said, "No, no. I have a handkerchief here. Put it over your head and cover your face. We will have a sky wedding. Let my daughters walk past you, and you stretch out your hand to catch the one you seize first. That one will be your match."

Bajie obeyed and took the handkerchief, placing it over his head.

Foolishness does not know the root of things;
lust is a blade that wounds the body in secret.
Since old times there has indeed been the rite of Zhougong;
today the groom has his hood drawn down over his face.

The idiot was dressed and covered at last. "Mother, let the elder sisters come out."

The mother-in-law called, "Zhenzhen, Aiai, Lianlian, come and meet the sky wedding and be matched to your son-in-law."

Only the sound of jewelry could be heard, bright and ringing, and the sweet scent of orchids and musk drifted through the room as if immortals were passing back and forth. The idiot really did stretch out his hands to grab them, lunging wildly on both sides. Left and right he could catch nothing. Back and forth the women moved, and who knows how many there were? He could not seize one of them. He lunged east and hugged a pillar. He lunged west and felt only wall boards.

Both sides of the room spun him dizzy. He could not stand steady, but kept stumbling. He kicked at the door panel in front, then struck the brick wall behind him, lurching and bumping until his mouth was swollen, his head bruised blue, and he sat on the floor panting.

"Mother," he gasped, "your daughters are too slippery. I could not grab a single one. What am I to do? What am I to do?"

The woman took off his hood and said, "Son-in-law, it is not that my daughters are slippery. It is that they all want to yield to each other and will not take you."

Bajie said, "Mother, if none of them will take me, then you take me instead."

The woman said, "What a bold and shameless son-in-law! You want your mother-in-law too? My three daughters are all cunning and clever. Each of them has made a jeweled silk undershirt. If you can wear one of them, then let that daughter take you."

Bajie said, "Good, good, good. Bring out all three and let me try them on. If they all fit, then let them all take me."

The woman went back into the room and brought out only one, which she handed to Bajie. That idiot took off his blue-and-brocade monk's robe, took the undershirt, and put it on. Before he had even tied the sash, he stumbled and fell flat. It turned out to be several ropes pulled tight and fast. The idiot could not bear the pain, and before long the others were gone.

Now then: Tripitaka, the Pilgrim, and Brother Sha woke up after a single sleep and saw that the east was already white. They opened their eyes and looked around, but there was no grand house and no high hall, only the three of them lying in a grove of pines and cypresses. The elder was frightened and quickly called for the Pilgrim.

Brother Sha said, "Brother, we are finished. We have met ghosts."

The Great Sage knew perfectly well what had happened. He smiled faintly and said, "How do you know that?"

Tripitaka said, "Look where we slept."

The Pilgrim said, "It is quite pleasant under these pines. Only I do not know where that idiot is suffering now."

Tripitaka said, "Which one is suffering?"

The Pilgrim smiled. "Yesterday this family of women and daughters, who knows which bodhisattvas they were, appeared here to test us. They must have gone away in the night. Only Bajie is suffering."

Tripitaka heard this and joined his palms in reverence.

Then they saw, hanging from an ancient cypress in the back, a little folded note fluttering in the wind. Brother Sha hurried to fetch it and give it to the master. It was a poem of eight lines:

The Lady of Mount Li did not think of the mortal world;
the bodhisattva of the South Sea was invited down the mountain.
Manjusri and Samantabhadra were both guests,
transformed into beauties in the forest.
The holy monk had virtue and still no worldly taint;
Bajie had no Chan and was all the more full of the mundane.
From now on he must quiet his heart and mend his faults;
if laziness is born, the road ahead will be hard.

As Tripitaka, the Pilgrim, and Brother Sha were reciting this poem, they suddenly heard a loud cry from deep in the woods:

"Master! I am tied up tight. Save me! I will never dare again!"

Tripitaka said, "Wukong, is that crying not Bajie?"

Brother Sha said, "It certainly is."

The Pilgrim said, "Brother, never mind him. Let us go."

Tripitaka said, "That idiot is foolish in nature, but only foolish and simple. He does have some strength and can carry the luggage. When we remember the bodhisattva's mercy from before, we should save him and let him follow us west. I trust he will not dare again in the future."

Brother Sha rolled up the bedding and packed the luggage. The Great Sage untied the reins, led the horse, and escorted Tripitaka into the forest to look for him.

Indeed, this is the point: if one would cultivate the right way, one must be cautious and clear away desire before returning to truth. As for what became of that idiot, and whether his fate was good or ill, that must wait for the next chapter.