OriginChapter 23
奉法西來道路賒，秋風淅淅落霜花。
He journeyed westward in obedience to the Dharma, the road long and far; the autumn wind rustled softly, and frost-flowers fell.
乖猿牢鎖繩休解，劣馬勤兜鞭莫加。
The wayward ape is firmly bound—do not loosen the ropes; the inferior horse must be diligently reined—do not add the whip.
木母金公原自合，黃婆赤子本無差。
The Wood Mother and Metal Lord were originally united; the Yellow Matron and Red Child were never at variance.
咬開鐵彈真消息，般若波羅到彼家。
Bite open the iron pellet to learn the true message; Prajñāpāramitā reaches that household.
This chapter generally speaks of the way of obtaining the scriptures, which does not depart from the way of attending to the root of one’s own person. It is said that the four pilgrims, master and disciples, had awakened to True Suchness and suddenly opened the locks of dust; they leapt out of the Sea of Nature and Flowing Sands, wholly without hindrance, and went straight onto the great road leading west. They passed through green mountains and verdant waters, unable to see the end of the wild grasses and idle flowers. Truly, time flew swiftly, and it was once again the ninth autumn, when they saw:
楓葉滿山紅，黃花耐晚風。
Maple leaves reddened the mountains full; yellow flowers endured the evening wind.
老蟬吟漸懶，愁蟋思無窮。
The old cicadas sang with growing languor; the sorrowful crickets’ thoughts were endless.
荷破青紈扇，橙香金彈叢。
The lotus leaves were torn like blue silk fans; the oranges scented the golden-ball clusters.
可憐數行雁，點點遠排空。
Piteous were the several lines of wild geese, dot by dot arrayed in the distant sky.
As they were walking, they unconsciously found that evening had come. Tripitaka said, “Disciple, it is evening again. Where shall we go to rest?” The Pilgrim said, “Master, you have spoken amiss. We monastics dine on wind and lodge by water, lie beneath the moon and sleep amid frost; everywhere is home. Why ask where we shall rest?” Zhu Bajie said, “Elder Brother, you know that your walking is light and easy; how can you care about other people’s exhaustion? Ever since we crossed the Flowing Sands River, we have been climbing mountains and crossing ridges, carrying heavy burdens on our shoulders. It has truly been difficult to endure. We must find a household: first, to obtain some tea and food; second, to nourish our spirits. That is the sensible thing.” The Pilgrim said, “Blockhead, your words seem to contain a heart of complaint. You are still longing for the ease you enjoyed at Gao Laozhuang, where you leaned on your laziness and sought no blessings. I fear that will no longer do. Since you have taken up the upright Buddhist path, you must eat bitterness and suffer hardship before you can be a disciple.” Bajie said, “Elder Brother, just look at how heavy this luggage is.” The Pilgrim said, “Brother, ever since you and Sha Monk joined us, I have not carried it. How should I know how heavy it is?” Bajie said, “Elder Brother, look at the number of things:
四片黃藤蔑，長短八條繩。又要防陰雨，氈包三四層。匾擔還愁滑，兩頭釘上釘。銅鑲鐵打九環杖，篾絲藤纏大斗篷。
Four strips of yellow rattan splint, eight ropes of various lengths;
to guard against cloudy rain, three or four layers of felt wrapping;
the flat carrying pole may still slip, so nails are fixed at both ends;
a nine-ring staff of copper and iron, and a great cloak wound with bamboo strips and vine.
With so much luggage as this, it is hard enough for old Zhu to carry it day after day, walking along; yet you follow Master as a disciple and treat me like a hired laborer.” The Pilgrim laughed and said, “Blockhead, to whom are you speaking?” Bajie said, “Elder Brother, I am speaking to you.” The Pilgrim said, “You have spoken to the wrong person. I, old Sun, am only in charge of seeing to Master’s welfare; you and Sha Monk are specifically in charge of the luggage and the horses. If you are even slightly negligent, the first thing on your crooked legs will be a sound beating with the thick staff.” Bajie said, “Elder Brother, do not speak of beating. Beating is using strength to bully people. I know your noble nature is proud, and you certainly refuse to carry things. But the horse Master rides is so tall and stout, carrying only the old monk himself. Have him carry a few pieces as well; that would be brotherly feeling.”
The Pilgrim said, “You call him a horse, but he is no ordinary horse. He is originally the son of Ao Run, Dragon King of the West Sea, and is called the Third Crown Prince of the Dragon Horse. Because he recklessly set fire to the luminous pearl in the palace hall, his father accused him of rebellion. He had violated Heaven’s law, and it was only through the great kindness of Guanyin Bodhisattva that his life was saved. He waited for Master for a long time at the Eagle愁 Ravine, and fortunately the Bodhisattva personally came there. She removed his scales and horns and took the pearl from his neck; only then was he transformed into this horse, willing to carry Master westward to worship the Buddha. These are each person’s meritorious fruits. Do not try to involve him.” Sha Monk, hearing this, said, “Elder Brother, is he truly a dragon?” The Pilgrim said, “He is a dragon.” Bajie said, “Elder Brother, I have heard the ancients say: a dragon can spout clouds and breathe mist, scatter earth and raise sand; it possesses the skill to move mountains and wrench ridges, and the supernatural power to overturn rivers and churn seas. Why does he walk so slowly today?” The Pilgrim said, “You want him to walk fast? I will make him walk fast, and you can watch.”
The Great Sage took up the Golden-Hooped Rod and shook it once; ten thousand rays of colored cloud sprang forth. When the horse saw the rod being raised, fearing that it would strike him, he panicked, and his four hooves flew like lightning. With a whoosh, he ran away. The master’s hands were too weak to hold him back, so he let the beast follow its inferior nature, racing up the mountain cliffs. Only then could he take great, hurried strides after it. When the master’s breathing had finally steadied, he raised his head and saw in the distance a cluster of pine shade, within which stood several houses, truly lofty and imposing. They were:
門垂翠柏，宅近青山。幾株松冉冉，數莖竹斑斑。籬邊野菊凝霜艷，橋畔幽蘭映水丹。粉泥牆壁，磚砌圍圜。高堂多壯麗，大廈甚清安。牛羊不見無雞犬，想是秋收農事閑。
Green cypresses hung by the gate; the residence stood near green mountains.
Several pines rose gently, and several bamboo stalks were mottled.
By the fence, wild chrysanthemums gathered the brilliance of frost; beside the bridge, secluded orchids reflected their red hues in the water.
The walls were coated with white mud, and bricks formed the surrounding enclosure.
The main hall was grand and splendid; the great house was exceedingly pure and tranquil.
No cattle or sheep were seen, nor chickens or dogs; it seemed that the autumn harvest had left the farm work idle.
The master was just reining in the horse and looking about slowly when he saw Brother Wukong and the others finally arrive. Wujing said, “Master, you did not fall from the horse, did you?” The Elder cursed, “That scoundrel monkey Wukong startled the horse. It is fortunate that I was still able to stay mounted.” The Pilgrim apologized with a smile. “Master, do not curse me. It was all because Zhu Bajie said the horse was walking slowly, so I made him go a little faster.” The Blockhead, having hurried after the horse, had walked somewhat too quickly; he was panting and puffing, grumbling and muttering, “Enough, enough! My belly is exposed, my waist has slackened. The burden is heavy and I cannot lift it up, yet you have me rushing and rushing after the horse.” The Elder said, “Disciple, look over there by that wall. There is a manor. It would be just right for us to borrow lodging there.” Hearing this, the Pilgrim hastily raised his head and looked. Indeed, auspicious clouds enveloped the empty sky, and propitious mists filled the air. Knowing that it must be a transformation arranged by a Buddha or immortal, he nevertheless dared not reveal Heaven’s secret and merely said, “Good, good, good. We shall go borrow lodging there.”
The Elder quickly dismounted. There stood a gate tower with drooping lotus and elephant-trunk forms, painted rafters, and carved beams. Sha Monk set down the burden, while Bajie led the horses and said, “This household is a truly wealthy and substantial family.” The Pilgrim was about to enter, but Tripitaka said, “No. You and I are monastics; each of us must avoid suspicion. We must not enter without permission. Let us wait until someone comes out, then respectfully request lodging according to proper etiquette.” Bajie tethered the horses and leaned obliquely beneath the base of the wall; Tripitaka sat upon a stone drum; the Pilgrim and Sha Monk sat at the edge of the terrace foundation. For a long time no one came out. The Pilgrim grew impatient, leapt to his feet, and went inside the gate to look. There were, as it turned out, three large halls facing south, their curtained lattice windows raised high. On the screen door hung a horizontal painting of Longevity Mountain and the Sea of Blessings. On the two gold-lacquered pillars at either side was pasted a pair of large red-paper spring couplets, which read:
「絲飄弱柳平橋晚；雪點香梅小院春。」
“Silk threads drift from frail willows; evening settles over the level bridge.
Snow-specks dot fragrant plum blossoms; spring fills the small courtyard.”
In the very center stood a black-lacquer incense table polished to a dull finish, upon which rested an ancient bronze beast-shaped censer. Above it were six folding chairs, while seasonal hanging screens were suspended on the two side walls.
As the Pilgrim was secretly looking around, he suddenly heard footsteps within the rear gate. A not-quite-old, not-quite-young woman came out and asked in a delicate voice, “What sort of person are you, entering the gate of this widow without permission?” The Great Sage hurriedly bowed repeatedly and said, “I am a humble monk who has come from the Great Tang of the Eastern Land. By imperial command, I am traveling westward to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. The four of us have passed through your honored region; the sky has grown late, and we have especially come to the honored residence of the old Bodhisattva to beg the loan of a night’s lodging.” The woman welcomed him with a smile and said, “Elder, where are the other three? Please bring them in.” The Pilgrim called out loudly, “Master, please come in.” Only then did Tripitaka enter with Bajie and Sha Monk, leading the horses and carrying the burdens. They saw the woman come out of the hall to greet them. Bajie narrowed his eyes and looked at her secretly. You ask how she was dressed:
She wore a woven-brocade official-green ramie-silk jacket, with a light-red sleeveless vest over it; she tied a knotted, multicolored goose-yellow embroidered skirt, beneath which were reflected high-soled flowered shoes. A fashionable coiled coiffure, loosely covered with black gauze, set off her two-colored coiled-dragon hair; a palace-style ivory comb, flashing vermilion and kingfisher ornaments, was slanted into her hair, with a two-pronged gold hairpin. Her cloudlike temples were half gray, with flying phoenix wings; from her ears hung matching pairs of strings of precious pearls. Though she applied no rouge or powder, she was still beautiful; her grace and bearing were yet like those of a young man of talent.
When that woman saw the three of them, she became even more delighted and courteously invited them into the hall. After they had each exchanged greetings, she asked them all to sit and have tea. Behind the screen, there suddenly appeared a young girl with a child’s hair-knots and hanging locks, carrying a golden tray and white jade cups. Fragrant tea breathed out warm vapors, and strange fruits scattered a delicate fragrance. She lifted her colorful sleeves, her fingers slender and long like spring bamboo shoots; raising the jade cups, she presented the tea to them. She bowed to them one by one. After the tea, she again ordered vegetarian food to be prepared. Sanzang clasped his hands and said, “Old Bodhisattva, what is your honored surname? What is the name of this honored place?” The woman said, “This place is in the land of the Western Ox-Horn Continent. My maiden family’s surname is Jia, and my husband’s family surname is Mo. In my youth I was unfortunate: my parents-in-law died early, and I remained with my husband to preserve the ancestral estate. We possessed wealth worth ten thousand strings of cash and a thousand qing of fertile fields. My husband and I were fated to have no sons, and only gave birth to three daughters. Two years ago, another great misfortune befell us, and my husband died. I, a widow, have now completed my year of mourning. I am left with only the fields and family estate, and no relatives or family members at all; only my daughters and I inherit and manage them. If I wished to marry another, it would be hard to abandon the family estate. Just now the Elder descended here; I imagine you are four masters and disciples, while my daughters and I are four women. We wish to remain here in the mountains and recruit husbands; the four of you are exactly suitable. I do not know whether your honored intentions would consent or not.” Hearing this, Sanzang pretended to be deaf and dumb, closed his eyes and quieted his mind, and sat silently without answering.
The woman said, “My household has more than three hundred qing of irrigated fields, more than three hundred qing of dry fields, and more than three hundred qing of mountain grounds and fruit trees; there are more than a thousand yellow oxen, mules and horses in herds, and pigs and sheep beyond number; to the east, south, west, and north, there are estates, forts, and pasture grounds, altogether sixty or seventy places; in the house there is rice and grain that need not be used for eight or nine years, damasks and silks that need not be worn for ten or more years, and gold and silver that need not be spent in a lifetime. It is far better than hiding springtime in embroidered curtains—what need is there even to speak of two rows of gold hairpins? If you masters and disciples are willing to change your minds and become sons-in-law in my humble household, you may live freely and at ease, enjoying glory and splendor. Would that not be better than laboring on the journey westward?” That Sanzang remained merely like a fool or an idiot, silent and speechless.
The woman said, “I was born in the you hour of the third day of the third month in the dinghai year. My late husband was three years older than I, and I am forty-five this year. My eldest daughter is named Zhenzhen, and is twenty this year; my second daughter is named Aiai, and is eighteen this year; my third and youngest daughter is named Lianlian, and is sixteen this year. None of them has yet been betrothed to a family. Although I, your humble wife, am ugly, fortunately my daughters each possess a measure of beauty; in women’s work and needlecraft, there is nothing they do not know. Because my late husband had no sons, I raised them as sons, and when they were little I even taught them to read some Confucian books; they all know a little about composing poems and matching antithetical couplets. Although they live in a mountain estate, they are not among those who are utterly coarse and vulgar. I suppose they are also worthy of the honored Elders. If you are willing to open your hearts, let your hair grow and keep your heads unshaven, and become heads of households here with us, wearing damask and silk, that would be much better than black robes and clay bowls, straw sandals and cloud hats.” Sanzang sat above, quite like a child startled by thunder or a frog drenched by rain: he merely stared blankly and awkwardly, rolling his eyes white and leaning backward.
When Bajie heard of such wealth and such beauty, his heart began to itch unbearably. Sitting in that chair, he was just like someone with a needle pricking his buttocks, twisting left and turning right, unable to endure it. He went forward and tugged at his master, saying, “Master, this lady is speaking to you; why do you pretend not to hear her? At least show some response.” His master suddenly raised his head and, with a sharp “Tuh!” shouted Bajie back, saying, “You evil beast! We are men who have left the household. How could we let wealth and honor move our hearts, or beauty and charms occupy our thoughts? What sort of principle would that be?”
The woman laughed and said, “How pitiful, how pitiful. What good is there in being a person who has left the household?” Sanzang said, “Female Bodhisattva, what good is there in your being a person who remains in the household?” The woman said, “Elder, please sit. Let me tell you the good of remaining in the household. How can it be seen? There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:
In spring I cut the square-victory and wear new silk; in summer I change to light gauze and admire green lotuses;
In autumn there are fresh hay and fragrant glutinous wine; when winter comes, in a warm chamber I grow drunkenly flushed.
In all four seasons, every sort of enjoyment is at hand; at the eight seasonal festivals, delicacies of every kind abound.
With brocade beneath and damask spread, amid flower candles at night,
It is far better than traveling on foot and performing rites to Amitabha.”
Sanzang said, “Female Bodhisattva, you who remain in the household enjoy glory and splendor, receive wealth and honor, have things to wear and things to eat, and children gathered around you—indeed, it is good. But you do not know that we who have left the household also have a certain good. How can it be seen? There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:
To leave the household and establish one’s resolve is fundamentally extraordinary; overturn the hall of former affection.
No external things give rise to idle disputes; within the body there are naturally good yin and yang.
When merit is complete and practice fulfilled, one attends the Golden Palace; seeing one’s nature and illuminating one’s mind, one returns to one’s native land.
It is better than remaining at home and coveting blood food,
Only to fall in old age into a stinking skin-bag.”
Hearing this, the woman flew into a rage and said, “This insolent monk is rude! If I had not considered that you came from the Eastern Land so far away, I ought to have ordered you driven out. I was sincere and earnest in wishing to give you my family estate and recruit you all as sons-in-law, yet you instead use words to wound me. Even if you have received the precepts and made a vow never to return to lay life, surely one of your followers could be recruited by my family. How can you be so rigid in observing the law?” Seeing her anger, Sanzang could only respond with repeated humility and deference, calling out, “Wukong, you remain here.” The Pilgrim said, “From childhood I have never known how to do that sort of thing; let Bajie remain here.” Bajie said, “Brother, do not cast a person aside. Let us all consider the matter carefully.” Sanzang said, “Since neither of you is willing, then let Wujing remain here.” Sha Seng said, “Listen to what Master says. Your disciple, having been guided and transformed by the Bodhisattva, received the precepts and awaited Master. Since I was received by Master and further benefited from his instruction, I have followed Master for not even two months, and have not yet attained even half a share of merit and fruition. How would I dare seek this wealth and honor? I would rather die than go westward; I will absolutely not commit such a deceitful act against my own conscience.”
When the woman saw that they refused and would not consent, she hurriedly turned and went behind the screen, then slammed the waist door shut. The master and disciples were left outside, with neither tea nor food, and no one came out again. Bajie grew anxious in his heart and reproached Tang Sanzang, saying, “Master, you are utterly incapable of handling matters—you talked until you killed the whole conversation. You should at least have kept some life in your legs, answered vaguely, and coaxed some vegetarian food from her; then tonight we could have enjoyed ourselves for one night. Whether you agreed tomorrow or not would have been up to you and me. But with the door shut and no one coming out, how are we to get through this whole night with our cold ashes and cold stove?”
Wujing said, “Second Brother, stay in his household as a son-in-law.” Bajie said, “Brother, do not frame me; let us deliberate it thoroughly.” Xingzhe said, “What is there to deliberate? If you are willing, then have Master and that woman become relatives by marriage, and you become a matrilocal son-in-law. His family is so rich in wealth and treasure that they will certainly provide the dowry as well and prepare a banquet for the meeting of the relatives. We shall also gain some enjoyment. If you return to lay life here, would that not be the best of both worlds?” Bajie said, “That is indeed how it sounds, but I would be casting off the secular life and then returning to it again, putting aside one wife to marry another.” Sha Seng said, “So Second Brother already has a sister-in-law?” Xingzhe said, “You still do not know him. He was originally the son-in-law of Elder Gao, Gao Taigong of Gao Laozhuang in Wusizang, but was subdued by this old Sun. He had also received the Bodhisattva precepts, yet, having no other recourse, I captured him and made him a monk. Thus he abandoned his former wife and followed Master westward to worship the Buddha. I suppose that, having been parted from her for so long, he has thought again of that business; and now, having heard of this business, he surely has the same thought once more. Fool, become the son-in-law of this family. Just bow to this old Sun a few more times, and I will let the matter pass without reporting you.” The Fool said, “Nonsense, nonsense. Everyone has this thought, yet you single out Old Hog to make a spectacle of him. As the saying goes: ‘A monk is a hungry ghost among those given to lust.’ Who does not wish for such a thing? All of you keep mincing and posturing, and have spoiled the good affair completely; hence, by now, there is no tea or water to be seen, and no one even attends to the lamps and fires. Though we have endured this whole night, that horse must carry people and travel again tomorrow; if it is made to go hungry for another night, we may as well skin it. You sit here; let Old Hog go give the horse some exercise.”
The Fool hurriedly undid the reins and led the horse out. Xingzhe said, “Sha Seng, you accompany Master here for a while. Let this old Sun follow him and see where he is going to exercise the horse.” Sanzang said, “Wukong, you may go watch him, but do not keep making fun of him.” Xingzhe said, “I understand.” The Great Sage walked out of the hall, shook his body, and transformed into a red dragonfly. He flew out the front gate and caught up with Bajie.
The Fool led the horse along, yet whenever he came upon grass he would not let it eat. Clicking and clucking, he drove the horse around to the rear gate. He saw that the woman had brought three girls and was standing idly outside the rear gate, amusing herself by looking at the chrysanthemums. When the mother and daughters saw Bajie arrive, the three daughters slipped inside. The woman stood at the gate and said, “Little Elder, where are you going?” The Fool dropped the reins, stepped forward, made a respectful bow, and said, “Mother, I have come to exercise the horse.” The woman said, “Your master is far too calculating. Would it not be better to take a son-in-law in my household than to be a wandering monk and trudge westward along the road?” Bajie laughed and said, “They are acting under the decree of the Tang king and dare not disobey the sovereign’s command, so they refuse to undertake this business. Just now, they were all in the front hall framing me. I was also somewhat caught between saying yes and no, fearing only that Mother might dislike my long mouth and large ears.” The woman said, “I do not dislike them either. It is only that there is no head of the household here, so taking in one son-in-law would be all right; but I fear that my youngest daughter may find you somewhat ugly.” Bajie said, “Mother, tell your beloved daughter not to be so choosy about men. Consider my Tang Monk: though his looks are handsome, in truth he is of no use. I am ugly, to be sure, but I have a few claims to make.” The woman said, “What do you say?” Bajie said:
Though my looks are ugly, I am diligent and have some skill.
If there are a thousand qing of land, no ox need plow it.
With but a single rake, seeds sown in season will sprout.
Without rain, I can call for rain; without wind, I can summon wind.
If the house seems too low, I can raise it two or three stories.
If the ground is unswept, I can sweep it clean; if the drainage ditch is blocked, I can clear it through.
Every household matter, great or small—kicking Heaven, tampering with the Well—I can do it all.
The woman said, “Since you can manage household affairs, go discuss it again with your master. If there is no awkwardness, I shall take you in as my son-in-law.” Bajie said, “There is no need to discuss it. He is not my birth father or mother; whether it is done or not lies with me.” The woman said, “Very well, very well. Let me speak with my daughter.” She slipped inside and, with a bang, shut the rear gate.
Bajie did not exercise the horse either, but led it toward the front. Little did he know that Sun the Great Sage already knew everything. He turned his wings and flew back, resumed his true form, and first went to Tang Sanzang, saying, “Master, Wuneng is bringing the horse back.” The Elder said, “If the horse is not brought back, I fear it will run off in high spirits.” Xingzhe began to laugh and recounted from beginning to end the business discussed between the woman and Bajie. Sanzang seemed only half convinced.
After a short while, they saw the Fool lead the horse up and tie it. The Elder said, “Did you exercise the horse?” Bajie said, “There was no good grass, and nowhere to exercise the horse.” Xingzhe said, “If there was nowhere to exercise the horse, was there a place to lead it?” Hearing this, the Fool knew that the news had gotten out. He lowered his head, twisted his neck, puckered his lips, and knitted his brows, saying nothing for a long while. Then they heard a creak: the side door opened. Two pairs of red lanterns and a hand censer appeared, incense clouds drifting thickly and girdle pendants chiming sweetly. The woman led out her three daughters, called Zhenzhen, Aiai, and Lianlian, to pay their respects to the travelers seeking the scriptures. The girls stood in a row in the hall and bowed toward the upper seats. They were indeed strikingly beautiful:
Each had mothlike brows stretching in emerald, a powdered face alive with spring.
Their bewitching beauty could topple a kingdom; their graceful figures stirred the human heart.
Flower ornaments revealed their many charming airs; embroidered ribbons fluttered, surpassing all earthly dust.
When they half-smiled, their cherry lips bloomed; when they walked slowly, orchid musk wafted forth.
Their heads were full of pearls and kingfisher feathers, trembling beneath countless jeweled hairpins;
Their whole bodies breathed a secluded fragrance, while delicate gold-thread flowers adorned their tender forms.
Why speak of the beauty of the Chu maidens or the lovely countenance of Xi Shi?
They truly were celestial maidens descending from the Ninth Heaven, or Chang’e emerging from the Palace of the Moon.
The Three-Casket Master folded his palms and lowered his head. Sun the Great Sage pretended not to notice, while Sha Seng turned his back. As for Pig Bajie, he could not take his eyes off them; his lustful heart was thrown into disorder, and his lecherous courage ran rampant. He twisted about and spoke in a low, coaxing voice: “You have troubled yourselves to descend, Immortal Maidens. Mother, please have the sisters come inside.” The three girls turned behind the screen, leaving behind a pair of gauze lanterns. The woman said, “Will the four venerable masters kindly take this to heart and let one of them be matched with my daughter?” Wujing said, “We have already discussed it. We shall have the one surnamed Pig become a son-in-law in your household.” Bajie said, “Brother, do not frame me; let us deliberate it according to everyone’s wishes.” Xingzhe said, “What is there left to deliberate? You already made the match at the rear gate, everything settled properly; you even called her Mother. What more is there to deliberate? Let Master be the male relative by marriage, this old woman the female relative by marriage, this old Sun the marriage guarantor, and Sha Seng the matchmaker. There is no need to consult the almanac. Today is an auspicious day favored by Heaven’s grace. Come and bow to Master, then go inside and become the son-in-law.” Bajie said, “It will not do, it will not do. How could I undertake such a business?” Xingzhe said, “Fool, do not make such a fuss. Who knows how many times you have already called her Mother with that mouth of yours? How could it still not do? Quickly agree, and bring us along to drink some wedding wine; that will be a benefit as well.” With one hand he seized Bajie and with the other he tugged at the woman, saying, “Relative by marriage, take your son-in-law inside.” The Fool’s feet shuffled as he tried to walk away. The woman immediately called to the servants, “Lay out the tables and chairs, arrange the evening vegetarian meal, and attend to the three relatives by marriage. I shall take my son-in-law to the bridal chamber.” At the same time, she ordered the cooks to arrange the banquet and set out the feast, so that the relatives might meet tomorrow morning. The few servants received their orders. The three of them ate their vegetarian meal, and, in great haste, bedding was laid out; all of them rested in the guest quarters, and nothing more need be said.
Yet Bajie followed his mother-in-law inside. They passed through layer upon layer of rooms—who knew how many—stumbling and bumping all the way, with thresholds everywhere tripping his feet. The Fool said, “Mother, walk more slowly. I am unfamiliar with the paths in here; lead me along.” The woman said, “These are all granaries, storehouses, mills, and the like. We have not even reached the kitchen yet.” Bajie said, “What a grand household.” Stumbling and bumping, turning corners and going around bends, they walked for another half a watch before reaching the inner hall. The woman said, “Son-in-law, your elder brother said that today is an auspicious day blessed by Heaven, so I have brought you in. It is only that, in this haste, I did not have time to invite an astrologer to perform the wedding rites and scatter the bridal curtains. You may simply bow eight times toward Heaven and Earth.” Bajie said, “Mother, you are right. Please take the high seat. Let me also bow a few times; that will count as the wedding ceremony and as my thanks to my parents-in-law—two matters accomplished at once. Would that not save trouble?” His mother-in-law laughed and said, “Very well, very well. You truly are an efficient, household-managing son-in-law. I shall sit here. Will you bow?”
Ah! The silver candles shone brilliantly throughout the hall, and the Fool bowed toward Heaven and Earth. When he had finished bowing, he said, “Mother, which elder sister are you going to match with me?” His mother-in-law said, “That is precisely the difficulty. If I match my eldest daughter with you, I fear the second will be angry; if I match the second with you, I fear the third will be angry; if I match the third with you, I fear the eldest will be angry. Thus I have remained undecided.” Bajie said, “Mother, since you fear they will quarrel, give them all to me. That will spare us all the noise and shouting and keep the family rules from being thrown into disorder.” His mother-in-law said, “What nonsense! Would you take all three of my daughters for yourself?” Bajie said, “Listen to what Mother says! Who does not have three wives and four concubines? Even if there were several more, your son-in-law would gladly accept them. When I was young, I once learned a method of fierce battle; I guarantee I could serve them one by one until each was pleased.” The woman said, “No, no. I have here a handkerchief. Put it over your head and cover your face, then make a blind marriage choice. I shall have my daughters walk past you; whichever one you reach out and seize, you shall marry.” The Fool followed her instructions, took the handkerchief, and placed it over his head. There is a poem to attest to this:
Foolish and deluded, he knows not the root of things;
The sword of lust harms the body, secretly bringing ruin.
He has always believed in the rites of Zhou Gong;
Today, as a bridegroom, he wears the bridal veil.
The Fool had the covering properly placed and said, “Mother, please have the elder sisters come out.” His mother-in-law called, “Zhenzhen, Aiai, Lianlian, all of you come and make a blind marriage choice, and be matched with your son-in-law.” He heard only the clear ringing of girdle pendants and the fragrant scent of orchids and musk, as though fairies were passing to and fro. The Fool truly did reach out to seize someone, pouncing wildly from side to side, yet he could not strike anyone on the left or on the right. Women came and went, and he did not know how many there were, but he could not hope to catch even one. Pouncing eastward, he embraced a pillar; pouncing westward, he groped along a plank wall. Running to and fro until he was dizzy, he could no longer stand steadily and kept falling. He kicked at the door panels in front and struck against the brick wall behind. Stumbling and bumping, he fell until his mouth was swollen and his head bruised, then sat on the ground. Panting heavily, he said, “Mother! Your daughters are far too sly. I cannot catch a single one. What am I to do, what am I to do?”
The woman lifted the bridal veil from him and said, “Son-in-law, it is not that my daughters are sly. They are all showing one another consideration and are unwilling to accept you.” Bajie said, “Mother, since they are unwilling to accept me, then you accept me yourself.” The woman said, “Good son-in-law, hush! You have no sense of propriety at all. Would you even take your mother-in-law? My three daughters are all exceedingly clever. Each one has made a pearl-inlaid brocade undershirt. If you can put on one of them, then I shall have that one accept you.” Bajie said, “Good, good, good. Bring all three here and let me try them on. If I can wear them all, then have all three accept me.” His mother-in-law went into the room, but brought out only one garment and handed it to Bajie. The Fool took off his blue brocade cloth robe, took the undershirt, and put it on. Before he had even fastened the sash, it gave a sudden jerk and he fell flat on the ground. As it turned out, several cords had been stretched tightly around him. The Fool could hardly endure the pain, but by then all those people had already disappeared.
Meanwhile, Sanzang, Wukong, and Sha Seng awoke from their sleep, without realizing that the eastern sky had begun to brighten. Suddenly they opened their eyes and raised their heads to look. Where had the grand halls and lofty chambers gone? There were no carved beams or painted rafters; instead, each of them was sleeping in a pine and cypress grove. The Elder hurriedly called for Wukong. Sha Seng said, “Brother, it is over, it is over! We have encountered ghosts.” The Great Sage Sun understood everything in his heart and smiled faintly. “What makes you say that?” The Elder said, “Look where we are sleeping!” Wukong said, “It is pleasant enough beneath these pines, but I wonder where that Fool is suffering.” The Elder said, “Who is suffering?” Wukong laughed and said, “Yesterday, the women of this household were none other than bodhisattvas who manifested themselves here to test us. They must have left in the middle of the night, leaving only Zhu Bajie to suffer.” Hearing this, Sanzang pressed his palms together and bowed reverently. Then they saw, hanging and swaying from an ancient cypress behind them, a sheet of writing. Sha Seng quickly took it down and brought it for his master to read. It contained these eight lines of verse:
The Old Mother of Lishan had no thought of worldly life;
The Bodhisattva of the South Sea invited her down from the mountain.
Samantabhadra and Manjushri were likewise merely guests;
They transformed into beautiful women amid the grove.
The holy monk has virtue, yet remains free of vulgarity;
Bajie lacks Chan, and possesses even more of the ordinary world.
From this day, keep your mind still and reform your faults;
If you grow negligent, the road ahead will be difficult.
As the Elder, Wukong, and Sha Seng were chanting and reciting this verse, they suddenly heard a loud cry from deep within the grove: “Master! The cords are killing me! Save me, save me! I shall never dare do it again!” Sanzang said, “Wukong, is that Wuneng calling out?” Sha Seng said, “It is indeed.” Wukong said, “Brother, do not pay him any attention. Let us go.” Sanzang said, “Though that Fool is foolish and stubborn by nature, he is simply guileless and straightforward, and he does possess some strength in his arms and back, enough to carry the luggage. For the sake of the Bodhisattva’s compassion toward him that day, let us save him and have him travel with us. I expect he will never dare do it again.” Sha the Monk then rolled up the bedding and gathered the luggage; the Great Sage Sun loosed the reins and led the horse, while Tang Sanzang entered the grove to search for him. Ah! This is precisely:
In cultivating the right path, one must always be cautious;
Sweep away love and desire, and return of oneself to the true.
In the end, whether that Fool’s fortune will be good or bad, we shall hear explained in the next installment.