Chapter 64

The story tells that the king of Jisai Kingdom thanked Tang Sanzang and his disciples for the grace of obtaining the treasure and capturing the monster, and did not accept a single bit of the gold and jade they offered. Then he ordered the attending officials to make two sets of clothes according to the four's usual attire, two pairs of shoes and socks each, two belts with rings each, and additionally prepared dried provisions and roasted grains. He exchanged the travel document, grandly set out the imperial carriage, and together with the civil and military officials, the entire city's commoners, and the monks of Fulong Temple, with great blowing and beating of instruments, saw the four off out of the city. After about twenty li, they first took leave of the king. The crowd saw them another twenty li and then took their leave and returned. The monks of Fulong Temple saw them for fifty or sixty li and did not return; some wanted to go together to the Western Heaven, some wanted to cultivate and attend upon them. When the Pilgrim saw that none were willing to return, he resorted to a trick. He plucked three or forty hairs from his body, blew on them with immortal breath, and called out, "Change!" They all turned into striped fierce tigers, blocking the road ahead, roaring and leaping about. Only then did the monks become afraid and dared not advance. The Great Sage then led his master to spur the horse and go; in a short while they had gone far. The monks wailed aloud, all crying, "Beneficent and righteous lords! We have no affinity; you are unwilling to ferry us across." Leaving aside the monks' weeping, let us speak of the four master and disciples, who took the main road. Only then did he take back the hairs, and they headed straight west. It was indeed the seasons changing; soon winter ended and spring arrived, neither warm nor cold, just right for traveling at ease. Suddenly they saw a long ridge; on the top of the ridge was a path. Sanzang reined in his horse and looked. The ridge was overgrown with thorny brambles, entwined with creeping vines; though there were traces of a road, on both sides there were all thorns and prickles. Tang Monk called out, "Disciples, how can this road be traveled?" The Pilgrim said, "Why can't it be traveled?" He added, "Disciples, the road traces are below, the thorns above; only if snakes and insects crawl on the ground could they pass. If you walk, it's hard even to straighten your waist; how can I ride a horse?" Bajie said, "No matter. Let me use my rake-wood hand, and with my nail-rake I'll part the thorns. Not to mention riding a horse, even a sedan chair I guarantee you'll get through." Sanzang said, "Though you have strength, over a long distance it will be hard to endure; we do not know how far it is, how can we expend so much energy?" The Pilgrim said, "No need to discuss; let me go and have a look." He leaped up into the air, and when he looked, it stretched beyond sight. Truly: Covering the earth, reaching the distant sky, congealed mist with rain. The soft grass along the path in disarray, over the mountains green canopies spread. Dense and clustered, the newly sprouted leaves; twining and pulling, just in fragrance. Looking afar, one knows not where it ends; near at hand, it seems like a vast green cloud. Misty and tangled, lush and deep. Wind sounds rustling, sunlight casts gleaming. Among them are pines, cypresses, and bamboos; many plums, many willows, and more mulberries. Vines entwine ancient trees, creepers wrap around drooping willows. Coiled like frames, joined like couches. Where flowers bloom, truly brocade is spread; where plants burst forth, far-off fragrance is born. Who among men does not encounter thorns? But who has seen such long thorns in the West? After the Pilgrim had looked for a good while, he lowered his cloud and said, "Master, this place is far." Sanzang asked, "How far is it?" The Pilgrim said, "As far as the eye can see, it seems to be a thousand li away." Sanzang was greatly startled and said, "What is to be done?" Sha Monk laughed and said, "Master, do not worry. Let us also learn from those who burn the wasteland; set a fire and burn away the thorns to cross." Bajie said, "Do not talk nonsense. Burning wasteland must be done in the tenth month or so, when the grass withers and trees dry, then it is good to start a fire. Now it is the flourishing season, how can it be burned?" The Pilgrim said, "Even if it could be burned, it would be frightening." Sanzang said, "In that case, how can we cross?" Bajie laughed and said, "To cross, you must still rely on me." The good idiot made a hand seal, recited a spell, bent his waist, and called out, "Grow!" His body grew to a height of twenty zhang. He shook his nail-rake and commanded, "Change!" The rake handle changed to a length of thirty zhang. He strode forward, using both hands to wield the rake, clearing the thorns left and right: "Please follow me, Master." Sanzang was delighted at the sight, and immediately spurred his horse to follow closely behind; Sha Monk carried the luggage; the Pilgrim also used his iron staff to push aside the thorns. That day they did not stop their hands, traveling over a hundred li. As it was about to get dark, they saw an open space. On the road there was a stone tablet, with three large characters reading "Jingji Ridge"; below there were two lines of fourteen small characters: "Eight hundred li of tangled thorns, from ancient times there is a path but few travelers." When Bajie saw it, he laughed and said, "Let old Pig add two lines: 'From now on Bajie can break it open, straight through to the West, the road all level.'" Sanzang happily dismounted and said, "Disciples, you have tired yourselves. Let us stay here for tonight, and wait for daylight tomorrow before going on." Bajie said, "Master, do not stop. While the sky is clear and bright, and we are in high spirits, let us clear the way all night, and go to hell with it." The elder had no choice but to comply. Bajie went ahead with effort; the master and disciples did not stop their hands, the horse did not cease its hooves, and they traveled another day and night, when again it grew dark. Ahead, the growth was thick and tangled, and they heard the wind striking a bamboo rhythm and the soughing of pines. Just then there was another open space, in the middle of which stood an ancient temple. Outside the temple gate, pines and cypresses stood in deep green, peach and plum trees vied in beauty. Sanzang dismounted and looked together with his three disciples. They saw: An ancient temple before the crags leans on a cold stream; setting sun and desolate mist enfold the abandoned mound. Among the white cranes, deep are the years; below the green weed terrace, itself spring and autumn. Bamboo shakes green pendants, as if one hears speech; birds play lingering notes, as if telling of sorrow. No chickens or dogs pass, and human traces are few; idle flowers and wild vines twine around the wall's top. After looking, the Pilgrim said, "This place has little good fortune and much ill omen; it is not suitable to sit long." Sha Monk said, "Senior brother, you are mistaken. In such a desolate place with no human habitation, and no strange beasts or demon birds, what is there to fear?" Before he finished speaking, suddenly a gust of gloomy wind blew, and from behind the temple gate emerged an old man, wearing a horned kerchief, dressed in light-colored clothes, holding a staff, and wearing straw sandals. Behind him followed a ghostly envoy with a green face, fangs, red beard, and bare body, carrying on his head a tray of flatbreads. He knelt and said, "Great Sage, I am the local god of Jingji Ridge. Knowing that the Great Sage has come, and having nothing to offer, I have specially prepared a tray of steamed cakes to present to the old master, and invite each to have a meal. This region is eight hundred li, with no other households; pray eat a little to stave off hunger." Bajie was delighted, stepped forward and reached out to take the cakes. But the Pilgrim had been scrutinizing for a long time, and shouted, "Stop! This fellow is not a good man. Do not be rude. What kind of local god are you, to deceive Old Sun? Have a taste of my staff." The old man, seeing him strike, turned his body around and transformed into a gust of gloomy wind, with a whoosh, he swept up the elder and carried him off, floating and wafting, no one knew to where. The Great Sage was so startled he had no place to track him; Bajie and Sha Monk both looked at each other in dismay, and the white horse also neighed in fright. The three brothers and the horse, four in all, in a daze, looked far and wide, but there was not a trace; they searched back and forth, but we shall leave that. Now as for that old man together with the ghostly envoy, they carried the elder to before a stone house shrouded in mist and rosy clouds, gently set him down, and took his hand to support him, saying, "Holy monk, do not fear. We are not evil men; we are the Eighteen Lords of Jingji Ridge. On this night of clear breeze and bright moon, we have specially invited you to meet friends and discuss poetry, to while away our feelings." The elder then calmed himself, opened his eyes, and looked carefully. Truly it was: Vast and hazy smoke-clouds are the place; clear and pure, a fairyland dwelling. Just right for purifying oneself and cultivating; suitable for planting bamboos and growing flowers. Often one sees cranes coming to the emerald crags; at times one hears frogs croaking in the green pools. It even rivals the elixir furnace of Mount Tiantai, and still equals the bright clouds of Mount Hua. Why speak of plowing clouds and fishing for the moon? The hermits here are worthy of praise. Sitting long, one's deep thoughts are like the sea; dimly, the moon rises on the window screen. Sanzang was just looking over the documents when he gradually noticed the moon bright and the stars clear, and he heard voices in conversation. They all said, “Shiba Gong has invited the holy monk to come.” The elder raised his head and saw three old men: the first had a frosty bearing and elegant demeanor, the second had green temples and a graceful air, the third had a modest, dark-colored look. Each had different features and clothing, and they all came to pay their respects to Sanzang. The elder returned the courtesy and said, “What virtue or conduct do I possess to dare trouble you immortal elders to show me such favor?” Shiba Gong laughed and said, “We have long heard that the holy monk possesses the Way, and we have waited for you for a long time. Today we are fortunate to meet you. If you do not begrudge your pearls and jades, please sit at ease and converse with us—this will fully manifest the true lineage of Zen.” Sanzang bowed and said, “May I venture to ask the immortal elders’ honored titles?” Shiba Gong said, “The one with frosty bearing is named Gu Zhi Gong, the one with green temples is named Ling Kong Zi, the one with a modest heart is named Fu Yun Sou, and this humble old man is called Jing Jie.” Sanzang said, “How old are the four elders?” Gu Zhi Gong said: “My age now has passed a thousand years ancient; Spreading to heaven, leaves luxuriant, four seasons spring. Fragrant branches dense in dragon-snake shapes, Layered shadows heavy, a body of frost and snow. From youth firm and hard, able to endure age; From now upright and straight, delight in cultivating truth. Where crows perch and phoenixes nest, no common kind; Lofty and dense, far from worldly dust.” Ling Kong Zi laughed and said: “My age a thousand years, defiant of wind and frost; Tall trunk, spirit branches, strength of its own. Still nights have sounds like raindrops falling; Clear autumn shade like clouds unfurled. Entangled roots have gained the art of long life; Received mandate, especially fit for the ageless formula. Crane-perching, dragon-transforming—no common stock; Vast and cool, near the immortal realm.” Fu Yun Sou laughed and said: “In cold years I have passed a thousand autumns in vain; Old scenery, free and easy, clear and more secluded. Not mixed with noisy dust, always cold and indifferent; Fully tempered by frost and snow, naturally free and elegant. The Seven Worthies as companions, together discussing the Way; The Six Idlers as friends, jointly singing and responding. Jade-chiming and gold-striking—not trivial; Natural disposition, roaming with immortals.” Jing Jie, the Shiba Gong, laughed and said: “I too have about a thousand years and more; Verdant, steadfast, and beautiful, as itself. Pitiable is the power of rain and dew that gave birth; Borrowing the creative mechanism of heaven and earth. In all the gulfs and mountain mists, only I am prosperous; Throughout the four seasons, scattered and free, I am the most carefree. I spread my green shade to entertain immortal guests; Playing chess, tuning zithers, and discussing the scriptures of the Way.” Sanzang expressed his thanks and said, “The four immortals all enjoy great longevity, but Elder Jing Jie has more than a thousand years. To have attained the Way at such an advanced age, with such elegant and extraordinary demeanor—could it be that you are the ‘Four Hoary Ones’ of the Han dynasty?” The four elders said, “You flatter us, you flatter us. We are not the Four Hoary Ones, but the ‘Four Upright Ones’ of the deep mountains. May we ask the holy monk—how old are you?” Sanzang pressed his palms together, bowed, and replied: “Forty years ago I left my mother’s womb; Before I was born, my fate was already doomed. I escaped death by falling into the water and drifting with the waves; Fortunately I reached Gold Mountain and escaped my mortal shell. I cultivated my nature, reading scriptures without slackening; With sincere heart I worshipped the Buddha, never daring to delay. Now, by the emperor’s command, I go west; On the road I meet immortals who deign to favor me.” The four elders all praised him, saying, “The holy monk, since leaving his mother’s womb, has followed the Buddhist faith. Truly he has practiced cultivation from childhood—he is indeed a true and upright monk of the Way. We are fortunate to meet your honored countenance and venture to beg for your great instruction. We hope you will deign to instruct us a little in Zen Dharma—that would fully satisfy our lifelong wishes.” Hearing this, the elder spoke out boldly without fear and said to them: “Zen is stillness; Dharma is measure. The measure within stillness cannot be achieved without awakening. Awakening means washing the mind and purifying thoughts, casting off the mundane and leaving the dust. The human body is hard to obtain, the Central Land is hard to be born in, and the true Dharma is hard to encounter—to possess all three is the greatest fortune. The utmost virtue and wondrous Way are vast, faint, and indistinct; then the six sense organs and six consciousnesses can be swept away. Bodhi is neither birth nor death, neither surplus nor lack; it encompasses emptiness and form, and dismisses both saints and ordinary beings. Investigate the truth of the Original Beginning’s hammer and tongs; realize the substance of Māuni’s methods. Give play to the formless, trample on nirvāṇa. You must awaken within awakening, realize within realization, and fully protect that single ray of spiritual light. Release the blazing flames to illuminate the sahā world; freely display yourself across the Dharma realm. In the most subtle and profound, guard it firmly—who can pass through the mysterious gate by mere words? I am by nature a cultivator of the great awakening Zen; only those with affinity and aspiration can remember and realize it.” The four elders listened attentively and were filled with boundless joy. Each bowed in reverence, prostrated themselves, and thanked him, saying, “The holy monk is the very root of awakening in Zen.” Fu Yun Sou said, “Although Zen is stillness and Dharma is measure, one must have a settled nature and a sincere mind. Even if you become a great awakened true immortal, you will ultimately sit in the unborn Way. Our mystery, however, is greatly different.” Sanzang said, “The Way is extraordinary, and the substance and function are one—how is it different?” Fu Yun Sou laughed and said, “We are born solid and firm; our substance and function differ from yours. We sense heaven and earth to take form, receive rain and dew to gain color. We laugh at wind and frost, and let the days and months pass. Not a single leaf withers; a thousand branches keep their integrity. As for such talk—if you do not seek the empty and void, but cling to Sanskrit words—the Way is originally rooted in China, yet you go west to seek verification, wasting your straw sandals in vain, not knowing what you are searching for. They have gouged out the heart and liver of the stone lion, and filled the marrow with wild fox slobber. Forgetting the root and practicing Zen, vainly seeking Buddha’s fruit—all are like the vine riddles and tangled words of this Thorny Ridge. How can such gentlemen be guided? With such standards, how can they be sealed? You must examine your original face before you; in stillness there is its own livelihood. Draw water with a bottomless bamboo basket; make a rootless iron tree bloom flowers. Firmly plant your feet on the summit of the Numinous Jewel, and when you return, you shall join the elegant assembly at the Dragon Flower.” Hearing this, Sanzang bowed his head and thanked him. Shiba Gong helped him up with his hand, Gu Zhi Gong pulled him to his feet, and Ling Kong Zi gave a ha-ha laugh and said, “Fu Yun’s words clearly leak the secret. Holy monk, please rise; do not take them entirely to heart. We take advantage of this bright moonlight—originally not to discourse on cultivation, but rather to chant and roam freely, and to give free rein to our feelings.” Fu Yun Sou pointed to the stone house with a smile and said, “If we are to chant, let us first enter my little hermitage for a cup of tea—how about that?” The elder indeed rose and went to look at the stone house. On the door were three large characters: “Mu Xian An”—Wood Immortal Hermitage. Thereupon they entered together and arranged their seats in order. Suddenly the naked ghostly attendant brought a tray of poria cakes and offered five cups of fragrant broth. The four elders invited Tang Monk to eat first; Sanzang was startled and suspicious and did not dare to eat at once. The four elders all partook together, and only then did Sanzang eat two pieces. They each drank the fragrant broth and the cups were taken away. Sanzang secretly watched and saw that the place was exquisitely bright and glowing, like under the moonlight: Water flows from beside the rocks; Fragrance wafts in from the flowers. The whole seat is pure, ethereal, and refined, Without a single speck of dust. Seeing this fairyland, the elder felt quite pleased; his spirits rose, his heart opened, and he was greatly delighted. Unable to restrain himself, he recited one line: “The Zen mind is like the moon, far and without dust.” Jing Jie, the old man, laughed and immediately linked with a line: “Poetic inspiration is like the sky, clear and ever new.” Gu Zhi Gong said: “Fine lines, freely cut, gather brocade and embroidery.” Ling Kong Zi said: “Excellent words, without embellishment, spit out rare gems.” Fu Yun Sou said: “The Six Dynasties once washed away all splendor; The Four Beginnings again distinguish the Odes and Hymns.” Sanzang said, “I merely blurted out a few random words—truly it is like ‘wielding an axe at the gate of Master Ban.’ Just now I heard the immortals’ words—fresh, graceful, and ethereal—you are truly poets.” Jing Jie, the old man, said, “Holy monk, there is no need for idle talk. A monk should complete what he begins. Since you have given the opening line, why not give a closing line? I hope you will finish it.” Sanzang said, “I cannot do it; I would rather trouble Shiba Gong to complete the piece—that would be best.” Jing Jie said, “How unkind of you! You started the line—why are you unwilling to finish it? To begrudge your pearls and gems is not in accordance with reason.” Sanzang had no choice but to continue with two more lines: “Half a pillow of pine breeze, tea not yet brewed; Chanting feelings carefree, full bosom of spring.” Shiba Gong said, “What a fine line: ‘Chanting feelings carefree, full bosom of spring’!” Gu Zhi Gong said, “Jing Jie, you deeply understand the flavor of poetry, so you keep savoring it. Why not start another piece?” Shiba Gong also graciously did not decline, saying, “I will begin with a chain of top-characters: Spring does not flourish, winter does not wither; Clouds come and mists go, just as if nothing.” Lingkongzi said, "I too will follow the preceding lines with a two-line link: Without wind, it sways, the shadow of the dancing tresses; A guest arrives, joyfully admiring the picture of fortune and longevity." Fuyunsou also linked: "The picture resembles the firm and old of the Western Mountains, Pure like the heartless one of the Southern Lands." Guzhigong also linked: "The husband, because of side leaves, is called a beam or pillar; The terrace, because of cross branches, serves as a charter crow." When the elder heard this, he praised endlessly, saying, "Truly these are 'Spring Snow' of the highest art, with heroic spirit soaring to the heavens. Though your disciple is untalented, I dare to begin another couplet." Guzhigong said, "The holy monk is a man of the Way, a great nurturer. There is no need to continue linking verses; please favor us with a complete poem, so that we may also presume to compose a response." Sanzang had no choice but to smile and chant a regulated verse: "Carrying my staff I come west to pay homage to the Dharma King, Wishing to seek wondrous scriptures to spread afar. The golden mushroom's three blooms are auspicious in the poetic grove, The precious tree's thousand flowers, the lotus stamen's fragrance. At the top of a hundred-foot pole one must advance further, In the ten directions of the world one establishes conduct and concealment. Cultivate to completion a jade image of solemn form, Before the gate of Ultimate Bliss is the bodhimanda." When the four elders heard it, they all praised it highly. The Eighteenth Elder said, "This old, inept one, daring to overstep, will also reluctantly harmonize with a poem." He said: "The lofty and upright one laughs at the king of trees; The spiritual catalpa is not like my renowned name. Amid the empty mountains, a hundred zhang of dragon-serpent shadows; From springs drawn for a thousand years, the amber fragrance. I share with Heaven and Earth a spirited bearing, And rejoice that wind and rain transform my conduct and concealment. Decaying and declining, I am ashamed to have no immortal bone; Only the congealed spirit of lingzhi forms my longevity field." Guzhigong said, "This poem's opening line is heroic and bold, the linked lines forceful, but the closing line is too self-deprecating. Admirable! Admirable! This old one will also harmonize with a poem." He said: "Frosty aspect, fond of perching as the king of birds, Before the Hall of Four Wonders, great vessel is renowned. Dew-heavy, pearl tassels veil the emerald canopy; Wind-light, stone teeth shatter the cold fragrance. In the long corridor, night still, the chanting voice is soft; In the ancient hall, autumn shade, the faint shadow hides. On New Year's Day, greeting spring, I once offered longevity; In old age, I take pride in the mountain field." Lingkongzi laughed and said, "Fine poems, fine poems! Truly they are 'moon-rib and heaven-heart.' How could this old one compose a harmony? But I cannot let the occasion pass; I must also blather a few lines." He said: "A beam-and-pillar talent, near to emperor and king; Beyond the Great Pure Palace, my fame is spread. In the bright pavilion, as if coming with azure aura; On the dark wall, ordinarily the green fragrance passes. The stalwart joint is awe-inspiring, ancient and elegant; The deep roots are knotted, hidden in the nine springs. Soaring above the clouds, its form overshadows the dancing tresses; Not in the gaudy field of many flowers." Fuyunsou said, "The poems of the three gentlemen are lofty, elegant, and refined—truly opening the brocade pouch. My body has no strength, my belly has no talent; receiving the instruction of the three gentlemen, my blockages have been cleared. I have no choice but to offer a few doggerel lines; I hope you will not laugh at them." The poem said: "In the garden of Qi'ao, delighting in the Sage King; A thousand acres along the Wei River freely spread. The emerald bamboo bears not the tears of the Xiang River goddess; The spotted bamboo shoots can convey the fragrance of Han history. Frost leaves since old their color never change; Misty tips from now on—what color can they hide? Since Ziyou passed away, few are those who understand the tone; Through ages eternal, it leaves its name in the field of letters." Sanzang said, "The poems of all you immortal elders are truly phoenix-spitting and pearl-spewing—even You and Xia could not add a word. I am deeply moved by your great affection and high sentiment. But the night is already deep; I do not know where my three little disciples are waiting for me. Your disciple cannot stay long; I dare to take my leave now to search for them, and I am especially grateful for your boundless love. I beg the immortals to point out my way back." The four elders laughed and said, "Holy monk, do not worry. This is also a rare meeting of a thousand years for us. Moreover, the sky is clear and fine; though the night is deep, the moon is bright as day. Sit a while longer, and when dawn comes we will naturally see you over the ridge, and your eminent disciples will certainly be met." While they were speaking, outside the stone house, two young maidens in blue carried a pair of crimson gauze lanterns, followed by a fairy maiden. This fairy maiden held a branch of apricot blossoms and entered with a smile to greet them. What was the appearance of this fairy maiden? She was born with: Azure grace adorning her like kingfisher feathers, Crimson cheeks surpassing rouge. Her starry eyes sparkled with color, Her moth eyebrows were graceful and even. Below she wore a light red skirt of five-colored plum blossoms, Above a flame-in-smoke light jacket. Her curved shoes were like phoenix beaks, Her silk socks trailed with brocade. Enchanting and delicate like the heavenly maid of Tiantai, Not inferior to the coquettish Daji of old. The four elders rose and asked, "Why has Apricot Immortal come?" The woman made a courtesy to all and said, "Knowing that there are distinguished guests here reciting poetry in turn, I have come specially to visit and beg to see them." The Eighteenth Elder pointed at Tangseng and said, "The distinguished guest is here; why trouble to ask to see him?" Sanzang bowed but did not dare to speak. The woman called, "Quickly bring tea." Then two young maidens in yellow carried a red-lacquered cinnabar tray, on which were six fine porcelain tea cups, in which were placed several kinds of rare fruits, with spoons laid across; they carried a teapot of white iron inlaid with brass, from which fragrant tea wafted. After pouring tea, the woman slightly revealed her spring-onion fingers, held a cup and first offered it to Sanzang, then to the four elders, then took one for herself and accompanied them. Lingkongzi said, "Why does Apricot Immortal not sit?" Only then did the woman sit down. After tea, she rose and asked, "Immortal elders, tonight you have great joy—may I ask to be favored with some fine verses?" Fuyunsou said, "Our words are all rustic, but the holy monk's truly are works of the flourishing Tang, most admirable." The woman said, "If you do not begrudge instruction, I beg to see them." The four elders then recited the elder's former poem, latter poem, and his discourse on Chan Dharma. The woman, beaming with spring breeze, said to all, "Your humble servant is untalented and should not make a fool of herself. But having heard these fine lines, it seems I should not let them pass in vain. May I presume to harmonize with the latter poem in one regulated verse?" Then she chanted aloud: "Above, the name remains from King Wu of Han, In Zhou times, Confucius established it in the altar. Dong Xian loved me and formed a forest of accumulation; Sun Chu once pitied the cold-food fragrance. Rain moistens the red grace, tender and delicate; Mist steams the emerald color, now revealed, now hidden. I know well the slight sourness of over-ripeness, Where I fall, year after year, I accompany the wheat field." When the four elders heard the poem, each offered congratulations, all saying, "Pure and refined, free from dust, the lines contain spring feeling. Fine indeed: 'Rain moistens the red grace, tender and delicate'! 'Rain moistens the red grace, tender and delicate'!" The woman smiled and replied quietly, "I am flustered, flustered. Just now I heard the holy monk's verses—truly they are brocade-hearted and embroidered-mouthed. If you do not begrudge gems and pearls, may I ask for a stanza?" Tangseng did not dare to answer. The woman gradually showed feelings of affection, pressing closer and closer, edging near his seat, and whispered softly, calling, "Distinguished guest, do not be reserved. Taking advantage of this fine night, if we do not have some sport, what then? How long does one's life's brightness last?" The Eighteenth Elder said, "Apricot Immortal has every intention of looking up to you; how can the holy monk lack the will to look down and comply? If you do not take pity on her, you are lacking in perception." Guzhigong said, "The holy monk is a man of the Way and of reputation; he would never act carelessly. Such conduct as this would be our fault. To defile a man's name and corrupt a man's virtue is not far-reaching wisdom. If Apricot Immortal truly has intent, we can ask Fuyunsou and the Eighteenth Elder to be the matchmakers, and I with Lingkongzi will be the guarantors of the betrothal. Would that not be a fine match?" Sanzang, hearing this, changed color, leaped up, and cried loudly, "All of you are monsters of a kind, trying to entice me like this. At first, it was acceptable to speak of humble conduct and discuss mysteries and the Way. But now how can you use a beauty trap to deceive and harm a poor monk? What is the reasoning behind this?" The four elders, seeing Sanzang angry, each bit their fingers in fear and said no more. That Bare-bodied Ghost Envoy, furious like thunder, said, "This monk is most ungrateful. What is wrong with my elder sister? She has a handsome and elegant person, jadelike quality and delicate grace; not to mention her needlework, but even this poetic talent of hers is worthy of you. How can you refuse like this? Do not miss the chance. Lord Solitary Upright's words are quite right; if you cannot consent hastily, let me then officiate the marriage for you." Sanzang was greatly alarmed and changed color; no matter how they babbled and rambled, he simply would not comply. The Ghost Envoy added, "You monk, we speak kindly and you refuse. If we show our boorish nature, we might still carry you off, making it so you cannot be a monk nor take a wife—would that not be a wasted life?" That elder's heart was like metal and stone; he firmly refused. Secretly he thought, "My disciples do not know where they are looking for me!" As he said this, he could not stop tears from falling from his eyes. That woman, smiling apologetically, drew near to him, took from her emerald sleeve a honey-colored silk handkerchief and wiped his tears, saying, "Noble guest, do not be distressed. Let me lean against jade and nestle in fragrance with you, and go play a while." The elder gave a loud "Tut!" and sprang up to leave. But those people tugged and pulled at him, and they wrangled until dawn. Suddenly they heard a voice calling, "Master, master, where are you speaking?" It turned out that the Great Sage Sun, together with Bajie and Sha Seng, leading the horse and carrying the pole, had not stopped all night, pushing through brambles and thorns, searching east and west. Just as they were passing over the eight-hundred-li Thorny Ridge in half-cloud half-mist to the west, they heard Tang Sanzang's shouts and so called out. The elder struggled out of the door and called, "Wukong, I am here! Come quickly to save me, come quickly to save me!" Then the four elders and the ghost envoy, the woman and the maidens, flickered and all disappeared. In a moment, Bajie and Sha Seng both came to his side and said, "Master, how did you get here?" Sanzang pulled at the Pilgrim and said, "Disciples, I have greatly troubled you. That old man we saw last evening, who spoke of the earth god sending alms—when you shouted and wanted to strike him, he carried me to this place. He took me by the hand and led me inside the door, where I saw three other elders who came to meet me; all called me 'Holy Monk.' Each spoke with elegant refinement and was most skilled at composing poetry. I responded in verse with them and felt it was about midnight; then a beautiful woman appeared carrying a lantern, also came to meet me, recited a poem, and called me 'Noble Guest.' Then, seeing my appearance, she sought to be my mate, and only then did I realize. While I was refusing, they had matchmakers making matches, guarantors guaranteeing, and officiators officiating; I swore I would not consent. I was just struggling to leave and wrangling with them when unexpectedly you arrived. First, because day broke, and second, because they were still afraid of you; just now they were tugging and pulling, but suddenly they all vanished." The Pilgrim said, "Since you conversed with them and discussed poetry, did you not ask their names?" Sanzang said, "I did ask their appellations: that old man is called Eighteenth Lord, with the style Stalwart Knot; the second is called Lord Solitary Upright; the third is called Lord Soaring Void; the fourth is called Lord Sweeping Clouds; and that woman is called Apricot Immortal." Bajie said, "Where are these creatures? Where did they just go?" Sanzang said, "I do not know where they went; but the place where we spoke poetry is not far from here." The three of them, together with their master, looked at the place and saw a stone cliff, with the words "Wood Immortal Nunnery" carved on it. Sanzang said, "This is the very place." The Pilgrim examined it carefully and saw that it was originally a large juniper tree, an old cypress, an old pine, and an old bamboo; behind the bamboo was a red maple. Looking further at the other side of the cliff, there was also an old apricot tree, two wintersweet trees, and two osmanthus trees. The Pilgrim laughed and said, "Did you see the monsters?" Bajie said, "No." The Pilgrim said, "You do not know; it is precisely these trees that have become spirits here." Bajie said, "Brother, how do you know the spirits are trees?" The Pilgrim said, "Eighteenth Lord is the pine tree; Lord Solitary Upright is the cypress; Lord Soaring Void is the juniper; Lord Sweeping Clouds is the bamboo; Bare-bodied Ghost is the maple; Apricot Immortal is the apricot tree; and the maidens are the osmanthus and wintersweet." Bajie, hearing this, regardless of good or bad, wielded his rake with his long snout, rooting and smashing, and felled the two wintersweet trees, the osmanthus trees, the old apricot, and the maple and poplar; indeed, under their roots blood gushed forth. Sanzang came near and pulled him, saying, "Wuneng, do not harm them. Although they have attained some cultivation, they did not harm me. Let us find our way and go." The Pilgrim said, "Master, do not pity them, lest in the future they become great monsters and do no small harm to others." That idiot then, with one more bout of his rake, felled all the pines, cypresses, junipers, and bamboos together, and only then invited the master to mount the horse and follow the main road westward together. We do not yet know what will happen ahead; let us hear the explanation in the next chapter.