Chapter 80

But let us now speak of how the monarch and ministers of Biqiu Kingdom, together with the common folk, saw the four masters off beyond the city wall and accompanied them for a full twenty li, still unwilling to part. Sanzang perforce dismounted from his palanquin, mounted his horse, and took his leave; those who saw him off did not turn back until they could no longer make out his figure in the distance. The four masters traveled on for a good while, passing the end of winter and the full bloom of spring, with endless sights of wild flowers and mountain trees, the scenery lush and fragrant. Ahead they again saw a high mountain range. Sanzang, alarmed, asked, "Disciples, is there a path over that mountain ahead or not? We must be careful." Wukong laughed, "Master, those words do not sound like one who has traveled far, but rather like some young nobleman who sits in a well and gazes at the sky. As the old saying goes: 'The mountain does not block the road; the road itself leads through the mountain.' Why speak of having a path or not?" Sanzang said, "Though the mountain does not block the road, I fear that among its perilous crags monsters may be born, and from its dense thickets demons may emerge." Bajie said, "Rest easy, rest easy. We are not far from the Land of Ultimate Bliss; we shall surely have peace and safety." Just as the master and disciples were speaking, they found themselves at the foot of the mountain without realizing it. Wukong took out his golden-banded staff, climbed onto a rocky ledge, and called out, "Master, this is the path that goes around the mountain; it is very easy to walk. Come quickly, come quickly." The elder had no choice but to relax his mind and urge his horse forward. Sha Seng said, "Second Brother, take the load on your shoulder for a while." Indeed Bajie took the pole and shouldered the burden, while Sha Seng gathered the reins, the old master sat securely in his decorated saddle, and they all followed Wukong up the great road on the mountain crag. One could see of that mountain: Clouds and mist enwreathed the summit, Babbling streams welled up in the ravines. A hundred flowers scented the road, Ten thousand trees stood thick and close. Plum trees green, pear trees white, Willows green and peach blossoms red. Where the cuckoo sang, spring was drawing to its close; The swallows chattered, the Feast of the Earth had ended. Towering crags, pines with emerald canopies, Rugged ridge trails, steep and exquisite. Sheer cliffs and hanging precipices grim, Verdant creepers and grasses lush. A thousand crags vied in beauty like rows of halberds, Ten thousand gullies raced in torrents with rolling waves. The old master leisurely viewed the mountain scenery when he suddenly heard the cries of birds and once again felt homesickness. He reined in his horse and called out, "Disciples! I received the imperial decree and the pass, Beneath the screen of embroidered silk I took the documents. On the fifteenth of the Lantern Festival I left the eastern land, Then did I part from the Tang King, heaven and earth asunder. Hardly had we met as tiger and dragon in wind and cloud, When master and disciples fell to quarreling over the horses. We have traveled past all twelve peaks of Mount Wu, When shall I face my sovereign again and see the present reign?" Wukong said, "Master, you always dwell on thoughts of home, not at all like one who has left the household. Set your mind at ease and keep going; do not worry overmuch. The ancients said: 'If you desire wealth and honor in life, you must put in deadly effort.'" Sanzang said, "Though what you say is reasonable, I do not know where the Western Heaven road still lies." Bajie said, "Master, our Buddha Tathagata must be reluctant to part with that Tripitaka of scriptures; knowing we have come to fetch it, he has probably moved it elsewhere—otherwise, why do we never seem to reach it?" Sha Seng said, "Do not talk nonsense. Just keep following Elder Brother. Only endure the journey step by step; eventually there will come a day when we arrive." While the master and disciples were thus idly conversing, they saw ahead a great dark pine forest. Tang Sanzang, frightened, again called out, "Wukong, we have just crossed that rugged mountain path, and now we encounter this deep dark pine forest—we must be careful." Wukong said, "What is there to fear?" Sanzang said, "How can you say that? 'Do not trust the straight in the straight; beware the benevolent who are not benevolent.' I have passed through several pine forests with you, but none as deep and far-reaching as this. Look: Dense on the east and west, they stand in rows north and south. Dense on the east and west they reach to the clouds; North and south they stand in rows, encroaching on the azure sky. Thick brambles and thorns knit all around, Creepers and vines twine and intertwine above and below. Vines entangle kudzu, kudzu entangles vines; Vines entangle kudzu—travelers from east and west find it hard to pass; Kudzu entangles vines—merchants from north and south cannot enter. If you stayed half a year in this wood, you could not tell day from night; Walk a few li and you will see neither the Northern Dipper nor the stars. Look at the thousand sights in the shady places, And the myriad flowers in the sunny spots. There are also thousand-year-old locusts, ten-thousand-year-old junipers, Cold-enduring pines, mountain peach fruits, Wild peonies, dry-land lotuses— Clustered in dense heaps and piled layers, So tangled that even the immortals could hardly paint them. And one hears the cries of a hundred birds: Parrots chatter, cuckoos weep; Magpies dart among the branches, crows feed their parents in return; Orioles flit and dance, the mockingbird modulates its notes; Partridges call, swallows murmur; My nah birds mimic human speech, And the oriole too seems to recite scriptures. One also sees the great tiger lashing its tail, the old tiger gnashing its fangs; Long-lived foxes dress up as fine ladies, Aged wolves howl and shake the forest. Even if the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King came here, Though skilled in demon-subduing, he would lose his wits." The Great Sage Sun showed no fear at all; he raised his iron staff and split open a path ahead, leading Tang Sanzang straight into the deep wood. Carefree and at ease, they traveled for half a day without yet finding a way out of the forest. Tang Sanzang called out, "Disciples, all along our westward journey we have passed countless mountains and forests and perils; fortunately this place is serene and peaceful all the way. The strange flowers and rare plants here truly please the heart. I wish to sit here a while: first, to rest the horse; second, because I am hungry—go somewhere and beg some alms-food for me." Wukong said, "Master, please dismount; I will go and beg for alms." The elder did indeed dismount, and Bajie tied the horse to a tree. Sha Seng set down the luggage, took out the alms bowl, and handed it to Wukong. Wukong said, "Master, sit steady, do not be afraid; I will be back soon." Sanzang sat upright in the shade of the pines, while Bajie and Sha Seng went off to amuse themselves looking for flowers and fruits. Now the Great Sage shot up on his somersault cloud, and when he reached mid-air, he halted his cloud-light and turned to look back. He saw that above the pine forest there drifted auspicious clouds and wafted halcyon mists. He suddenly exclaimed, "Fine! Fine!" And why did he call out "Fine"? It was because he was praising Tang Sanzang, saying that he was the reincarnation of the Elder Golden Cicada, a good man who had cultivated for ten lifetimes, and thus such auspicious signs crowned his head. "If it were I, Old Sun, five hundred years ago when I made havoc in Heaven, I roamed the corners of the seas and wandered beyond the horizons; I gathered a host of spirits and called myself the Great Sage Equal to Heaven; I subdued dragons and tamed tigers and erased my name from the Register of Death. I wore a three-peaked golden crown, a golden chain-mail coat, wielded the golden-banded staff, and trod on cloud-stepping boots. Under me were forty-seven thousand strange demons, all calling me Great Sage Grandfather—truly I was a figure of importance. Now I have escaped my heavenly calamity, and I stoop and humble myself to become your disciple. If my master's head is crowned with auspicious clouds and halcyon mists, and he returns straight to the Eastern Land, there will surely be some benefit, and Old Sun will surely attain the true fruit." While he was thus praising and musing to himself, he suddenly saw below, to the south of the forest, a streak of black vapor surging up in billowing puffs. The Great Sage was greatly startled and said, "Within that black vapor there must be evil. My Bajie and Sha Seng would not emit any black vapor." The Great Sage hovered in mid-air, unable to determine what it was. But to speak of Sanzang sitting in the forest, clearing his mind and seeing his nature, intoning the *Mohe Bore Boluomiduo Xin Jing* (Heart Sutra), he suddenly heard a plaintive cry: "Save me!" Sanzang was greatly startled and said, "Goodness, goodness! In such a deep wood, who could be calling? It must be someone frightened by wolves, tigers, or leopards—let me go and see." The elder rose and moved his steps, passing through thousand-year cedars and skirting ten-thousand-year pines, clinging to vines and grasping creepers, and drew near to look. He saw that on a great tree was bound a young woman, her upper body tied to the tree with vines, her lower half buried in the earth. The elder halted his feet and asked her a question: "Bodhisattva, what has happened that you are bound here?" Ah! Clearly this creature was an evil spirit, but the elder, with his mortal eyes and ordinary flesh, could not recognize her. When the monster saw him coming to ask, her tears gushed like a spring. Look at her—peach cheeks dripping tears, a beauty that could sink fish and drop wild geese; starry eyes bearing grief, a face that could outshine the moon and shame the flowers. The elder truly dared not approach, yet he opened his mouth again and asked: "Bodhisattva, what crime have you actually committed? Tell me, and I will save you." The fiend, with artful and flowery words, false feelings and feigned sincerity, hastily answered: "Master, my family lives in the Kingdom of Pinpo, over two hundred li from here. My parents are still alive, extremely kind and charitable, and all their lives they have loved family and friends. It happened to be Qingming Festival, and they invited all our relatives and the whole household to sweep the ancestral graves. Our procession of palanquins and horses all arrived at the desolate countryside. Before the graves, we laid out the sacrificial offerings and had just burned the paper money when we heard the clang of gongs and roll of drums—a band of brigands rushed out, brandishing swords and clubs, shouting and killing, and we were so terrified that our souls flew away and our wits scattered. My parents and all the relatives, each with horse or palanquin, fled for their lives; but I, being young, could not run fast and fell to the ground in fright. Those brigands carried me off into the mountains. The Great King wanted me as his wife, the Second King wanted me as his concubine, and the third, fourth, and all the rest coveted my beauty—some seventy or eighty families all squabbled at once, each disgruntled, so they bound me here in the forest and scattered away. Now it has been five days and five nights; my life is at its end, and I will soon die. I do not know in which former existence my ancestors accumulated virtue that today I encounter you, Master. I beg you, with great compassion, save my life, and even beneath the Nine Springs I will never forget your kindness." Having spoken, her tears fell like rain. Sanzang, truly compassionate, could not help but shed tears himself, his voice choked with sobs, and he called out: "Disciples." Bajie and Sha Seng were in the forest seeking flowers and picking fruits when they suddenly heard their master's mournful cry. The idiot said, "Sha Monk, our master has found a relative here." Sha Seng laughed and said, "Second Brother, you are babbling. We have traveled so long and have not met a single good person—how could he have a relative?" Bajie said, "If not a relative, why would the master be crying with someone? Let us go and see." Sha Seng indeed turned back to their former place, led the horse, carried the burden, and came before them, asking: "Master, what is the matter?" Tang Sanzang pointed with his hand at the tree and said, "Bajie, untie that Bodhisattva and save her life." The idiot, without distinguishing good or bad, immediately set to work. Now the Great Sage, up in mid-air, again saw that the black vapors were dense and had completely obscured his auspicious light. He exclaimed, "Bad, bad! The black vapors darken the auspicious light—could it be that an evil spirit is harming my master? The alms-begging is a minor matter; I must first go and see my master." So he turned his cloud and descended into the forest, only to see Bajie frantically untying the ropes. The Monkey King stepped forward, grabbed him by the ear, and with a thud threw him to the ground. The idiot looked up, saw who it was, scrambled up, and said, "Master told me to save her—how can you use your strength to throw me down like that?" Wukong laughed and said, "Brother, do not untie her. She is an evil spirit, playing tricks to deceive us." Sanzang scolded, "You reckless ape, you are talking nonsense again! How can you recognize such a woman as an evil spirit?" Wukong said, "Master, you do not know—this is all old Sun's old trade; it is a trick to eat human flesh. How could you recognize it?" Bajie pouted and said, "Master, do not believe this Curly-Haired Monkey's lies. This woman is from a family here. We have come from afar from the East and have no quarrel with her, nor are we relatives—how can you say she is an evil spirit? He just wants to send us away, then he will turn somersaults, use his magic to come back and do some sly business—stepping right through the door." Wukong shouted, "You stupid oaf, stop blabbering. I, old Sun, have been coming westward all this time—where have I ever been lazy or deceitful? Unlike you, who value lust over life and profit over righteousness, you glutton who does not know good from bad—you'd be fooled by others into being a live-in son-in-law and tied to a tree!" Sanzang said, "Enough, enough. Bajie, your senior brother is often not wrong in his judgments. Since he says so, do not mind her; let us go." Wukong was delighted and said, "Good, Master is one who has his fate. Please mount the horse, and once we are out of the pine forest, we will find some household to beg for alms for you." The four indeed went forward together and left the monster behind. But the monster, bound to the tree, gnashed her teeth in hatred and said, "For years I have heard people say that Sun Wukong is vastly powerful, and today I see him—indeed his reputation is not unfounded. That Tang Sanzang has cultivated as a virgin body, not a drop of his Primal Yang leaked; I was about to take him to mate with him and become a Taiyi Golden Immortal, but I did not expect that this monkey saw through my magic and rescued him. If I were untied and set down, I could catch him in an instant—wouldn't he be my man? But now he has been led away by that heap of rambling talk, and isn't that labor without gain? Let me call out to him again and see what happens." The fiend, without moving the ropes, sent a few kind and gentle words with a favorable wind, wafting them plaintively into Tang Sanzang's ears. What did she call, you ask? She called: "Master, you have a living human life right before you and still do not save her—going against your conscience to worship Buddha, what scriptures will you fetch?" When Sanzang heard this calling again while on horseback, he reined in his horse and said, "Wukong, go and bring that woman down." Wukong said, "Master, we are walking—why do you think of her again?" Sanzang said, "She is calling again." Wukong asked, "Bajie, did you hear that?" Bajie said, "My big ears covered it—I did not hear." He asked again, "Sha Seng, did you hear?" Sha Seng said, "I was walking ahead with the burden and was not paying attention; I did not hear either." Wukong said, "Old Sun did not hear either. Master, what did she call? Why is it that only you heard?" Sanzang said, "What she said makes sense. She said: 'If you do not save a living human life, and go against your conscience to worship Buddha, what scriptures will you fetch?' 'Saving a life is better than building a seven-storied pagoda.' Go quickly and bring her down—that is better than fetching scriptures and worshipping Buddha." Wukong laughed and said, "Master, if you start being kind, there is no cure for it. Think of it: you left the East and have come westward, crossing many mountain ranges and encountering many monsters, who often took you into their caves. Old Sun came to save you, and with his iron staff often killed thousands and tens of thousands. Now you cannot bear to part with the life of a single evil spirit and want to save her?" Sanzang said, "Disciple, the ancients said: 'Do not refrain from doing good because it is small, nor commit evil because it is small.' Go and save her." Wukong said, "Master, if that is the case, this burden is one that old Sun cannot bear. If you want to save her, I dare not dissuade you too much; if I try to advise you, you will only get angry again. Let you go and save her." Sanzang said, "Monkey-head, do not talk so much. You sit there, and let Bajie and me go and save her." Tang Seng returned to the forest and told Bajie to untie the rope from the upper half of her body, then use his rake to dig out the lower half. The monster straightened her shoes, gathered her skirt, and followed Tang Seng out of the pine forest with great delight. When she saw Xingzhe, he merely laughed coldly without stopping. Tang Seng scolded, "You insolent monkey-head, what are you laughing at?" Xingzhe said, "I laugh that when your luck is in, you meet a good friend, and when your luck is out, you encounter a fair lady." Tang Seng scolded again, "You reckless baboon, nonsense! From the moment I left my mother's womb, I became a monk. Now, by imperial decree, I journey west, devoutly revering the Buddha and seeking the scriptures. I am not one of those who seek wealth or rank—how could I have any turn of bad luck?" Xingzhe laughed and said, "Master, although you have been a monk since childhood, you only know how to recite scriptures and chant Buddha's name; you have never seen the statutes of the king's law. This young woman is fair and young. You and I are monks who have left the household—if we travel together with her, and should we encounter scoundrels who seize us and take us to the authorities, regardless of any scripture-seeking or Buddha-worshipping, they will charge us all with illicit relations. Even if that were not the case, they would still question us on the charge of abducting a person. Master, your ordination certificate would be revoked, and you would be beaten near to death; Bajie would be sentenced to military exile; Sha Seng would be sentenced to penal servitude; and I, Old Sun, would not come off cleanly either—though my tongue is sharp and I could argue, I would still be found guilty of 'failure to prevent' the offense." Tang Seng scolded, "Nonsense! Could it be that saving a life brings such trouble? If we take her along, any matter that arises shall be on my head." Xingzhe said, "Master, though you say the matter is on you, you do not realize that instead of saving her, you are harming her." Tang Seng said, "I rescued her from the forest and gave her life—how is that harming her?" Xingzhe said, "She was bound among the trees—if she had gone three, five, ten days, or half a month without food and starved to death, she would still have gone to the underworld with her body intact. Now that you have brought her out, you ride a fast horse that travels like wind, and we have no choice but to follow you. But this woman has tiny feet and walks with difficulty—how can she keep up? If she is left behind and encounters wolves, tigers, or leopards who swallow her in one gulp, is that not harming her life instead?" Tang Seng said, "Exactly so! It is fortunate that you thought of this—how should we manage it?" Xingzhe laughed and said, "Lift her up here, and let her ride the horse together with you." Tang Seng pondered and said, "How could I share a horse with her?" — "Then how is she to go?" Tang Seng said, "Tell Bajie to carry her." Xingzhe laughed and said, "Idiot, your fortune has come!" Bajie said, "'On a long road, there is no light load.' You call it fortune to make me carry a person?" Xingzhe said, "Your snout is long—if you carry her and twist your head around, you can whisper sweet private words to her—wouldn't that be convenient and profitable?" When Bajie heard this, he beat his chest and jumped about, saying, "No, no! If Master wants to beat me a few times, I would rather bear the pain. Carrying her will never end cleanly. Elder Brother has always been good at framing people. I won't carry her." Tang Seng said, "Very well, very well. I can still walk a few steps. I'll get down and walk slowly with her, and have Bajie lead the empty horse." Xingzhe laughed heartily and said, "Idiot, you've got a good deal—Master is taking care of you by having you lead the horse." Tang Seng said, "This monkey-head talks nonsense again. The ancients say, 'A horse may travel a thousand li, but cannot go alone without a man.' If I walk slowly on the road, could you just abandon me? If I am slow, you all are slow. We shall all go down the mountain together with this lady Bodhisattva, and when we reach a nunnery, temple, or some place with people, we can leave her there—that would also count as our saving her." Xingzhe said, "Master's words are reasonable—please hurry on ahead." Tang Seng walked in front, Sha Seng carried the load, Bajie led the empty horse and guided the woman, and Xingzhe took up his iron staff—all traveled forward together. In no more than twenty or thirty li, as dusk was falling, they saw another tower and pavilions. Tang Seng said, "Disciples, that must be a nunnery or temple. Let us lodge there for the night and set out early tomorrow." Xingzhe said, "Master speaks rightly—let us all quicken our steps." In an instant they reached the gate, and he instructed, "Stand back a little, all of you. I will go ahead to ask for lodging. If there is a convenient place, I will send someone to call you." All stood beneath the shade of the willows, with only Xingzhe holding his iron staff and watching over the woman. The elder dragged his steps forward and saw that the gate was crooked and askew, broken and scattered. When he pushed it open and looked inside, he could not help but feel deep sorrow in his heart: the long corridors were silent, the ancient temple desolate; moss filled the courtyard, and brambles overran the paths; only fireflies served as flying lamps, and only frogs' croaking took the place of the water-clock. The elder suddenly shed tears. Indeed: The halls and shrines were crumbling and collapsed, The side-chambers lonely, tilted and fallen. Broken bricks and shattered tiles in more than ten piles— All were crooked beams and broken pillars. Front and back, green grass had grown all over; Dust buried the rotten and decayed kitchen. The bell tower had collapsed, the drum had no hide; The glazed incense lamps were broken and damaged. The golden bodies of the Buddhas had lost their color; Arhats lay fallen, east and west. Guanyin, ruined by rain, had all turned to mud; The willow branch and pure vase had fallen to the ground. By day there were no monks; By night foxes lodged everywhere. One heard only the wind roaring like thunder— This was a place where tigers and leopards hid. The surrounding walls had all fallen down, And there were no gates or doors to close. There is a poem as testimony: Many years this ancient temple, unrepaired by anyone, Wretched and ruined, toppled and more decayed. Fierce winds split the faces of the temple guardians; Heavy rains scarred the heads of Buddha's images. Vajras, fallen and damaged, soaked in the downpour; Earth gods, without a room, gone un-sheltered by night. There are two more sights worthy of lament— The bronze bell, on the ground, has no tower to hang in. Summoning his courage, Sanzang walked through the second gate. He saw that the bell tower and drum tower had both collapsed, leaving only a single bronze bell, planted on the ground, with its upper half white as snow and its lower half blue as indigo. It was because, over many years, the top had been bleached white by rain, and the bottom had taken on the green patina of copper from the earth's moisture. Sanzang touched the bell with his hand and cried out loudly, "O bell! Once you hung high in a tower and resounded; once your clear notes carried across painted beams. Once at cockcrow you announced the dawn; once at dusk you heralded evening. I know not where the Daoist who smelted the copper has gone, nor where the bronze-founder who cast you now remains. I think their two lives have returned to the underworld; you have lost all trace of them, and they have lost all sound of you." The elder was singing out his lament when, without realizing it, he roused someone inside the temple. There was a Daoist who attended the incense and lamps. Hearing human speech, he got up, picked up a piece of broken brick, and hurled it at the bell—the bell gave a resonant clang. The elder was so startled that he fell over. Struggling to his feet to flee, he tripped over a tree root and fell flat again. Lying on the ground, he looked up and cried out again, "O bell! I was just sighing over you when suddenly you gave a clang. I think that on this western road, with no one coming, after so many years you have turned into a spirit." The Daoist rushed forward and took him by the arm, saying, "Please rise, venerable sir. It is not a matter of the bell becoming a spirit—that was I who struck the bell." Sanzang looked up and saw his ugly, dark countenance, and said, "Are you some demon or evil spirit? I am no ordinary man—I come from the Great Tang, and I have disciples who can subdue dragons and tame tigers. If you run into them, your life will not be spared." The Daoist knelt and said, "Do not fear, venerable sir. I am no demon or evil spirit—I am the Daoist who tends the incense and lamps in this temple. Just now I heard your gracious words of praise and was about to come out to welcome you, but I feared it might be some evil spirit knocking at the gate, so I picked up a broken brick and struck the bell to steady my nerves before daring to come out. Please rise, venerable sir." Then Tang Seng regained his composure and said, "Abbot, you nearly frightened me to death. Lead me inside." The Daoist led Tang Seng in, and when they looked inside the third gate, it was vastly different from the outside. One could see: Green bricks were built into walls like colorful clouds; green tiles roofed a hall of glazed琉璃. Gold adorned the holy images; white jade formed the steps and terraces. On the Daxiong Hall danced green light; beneath the Piluo Pavilion arose sharp energy. The Wenshu Hall was festooned with flying clouds; the Sutra-Turning Hall was painted with flowers piled with emerald. On the three-eaved roof, the precious vase rose to a point; in the Five Blessings Tower, embroidered canopies hung flat. A thousand green bamboos swayed by the meditation couches; ten thousand green pines reflected the Buddha’s gate. In the Blue Cloud Palace, golden light shone forth; amid the purple mists, auspicious vapors drifted. In the morning, the fragrant wind from the four fields was heard far away; in the evening, the painted drums resounded from the high mountains. There should be those who mend broken cassocks in the morning sun; how could there be none who finish the remaining sutras facing the moon? And one saw half a wall of lamplight bright in the rear courtyard, and a row of fragrant mist shining in the central hall. When Sanzang saw this, he did not dare to enter and called out, "Daoist, the front part here is extremely dilapidated, yet the back part is so neat—why is that?" The Daoist laughed and said, "Venerable Sir, there are many demons and fierce bandits in these mountains. When the weather is clear, they rob along the mountains; when it is overcast, they come to hide in this temple. They have pushed over the Buddha images to sit on them, and carried away the timber to burn for fire. The monks of this temple are weak and dare not argue with them. Therefore we have given up these ruined halls in the front to those brigands for shelter, and have newly solicited other donors to build that monastery at the rear. The pure and the turbid are kept separate—this is how things are in the Western regions." Sanzang said, "So that is how it is." As they proceeded, they saw five large characters on the mountain gate, reading "Zhenhai Chánlin Temple." Just as he lifted his foot to step inside, suddenly a monk came walking out. See how he appeared: On his head he wore a left-pinned velvet brocade cap, A pair of copper rings hung from his earlobes. His body was clad in a woolen thread garment, A pair of white eyes shone bright as silver. In his hand he shook a rattling drum, His mouth chanted foreign sutras, unclear to the ear. Sanzang did not recognize him at first— This was a Lama monk on the Western Road. That Lama monk came out of the gate and, seeing Sanzang with delicate eyebrows and clear eyes, broad forehead and flat crown, ears hanging to his shoulders, hands past his knees, looking just like an arhat descended to the world—most handsome and refined—he stepped forward, grabbed him, and with a beaming, smiling face, pinched his hands and feet, felt his nose, and tugged his ears, to show intimacy. He led him into the abbot’s quarters. After they had exchanged courtesies, he asked, "Venerable Master, from where do you come?" Sanzang said, "This disciple is a imperial emissary from the Great Tang in the East, sent to worship the Buddha and fetch scriptures at the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the Kingdom of Tianzhu in the West. As it happened, we arrived at your precious region at dusk, and so I have come especially to your noble monastery to beg for a night’s lodging, and to set out early tomorrow morning. I hope you will kindly accommodate us." The monk laughed and said, "Unworthy, unworthy. We did not become monks out of good intentions; it was because our parents gave us birth, and our fates ran afoul of the Huagai star, so our families could not keep us, and we had to cut off all ties and become monks. Now that we are disciples of the Buddha, we must not speak empty, deceitful words." Sanzang said, "I am speaking the truth." The monk said, "From the Eastern lands to the Western Heaven, how many leagues are there? On the road there are mountains; in the mountains there are caves; in the caves there are spirits. You, all alone and so delicate-looking—how could you be one who fetches scriptures?" Sanzang said, "What the abbot says is true. How could I, a poor monk alone, have come this far? I have three disciples who open roads through mountains and bridge rivers when they encounter water, protecting this disciple—and that is how I have reached your noble monastery." The monk said, "Where are your three worthy disciples?" Sanzang said, "They are waiting outside the mountain gate." The monk was alarmed and said, "Master, you do not know that we have tigers, wolves, demons, and bandits here that harm people. In the daytime we dare not go far out, and before nightfall we have already barred the gates. At this late hour, how can you leave people outside?" He called out, "Disciples, quickly go and invite them in." Two little lamas ran out and, seeing Wukong, fell over in fright; seeing Bajie, they fell over again. They scrambled up and ran back inside, saying, "Grandfathers! Our luck has turned bad—your disciples are nowhere to be seen; only three or four monsters are standing at the gate." Sanzang asked, "What do they look like?" The little monks said, "One has a thunder-god beak, another a pestle-poking mouth, and the third has a green face and protruding fangs. Beside them there is a woman, with sleek hair and a powdered face." Sanzang laughed and said, "You do not recognize them. Those three ugly ones are my disciples. That woman is one I rescued from the pine forest." The Lama said, "Grandfather! Such a handsome master as this—how did you find such ugly disciples?" Sanzang said, "Ugly as they are, each of them is useful. Hurry and invite them in. If you delay any longer, that thunder-god beak has a talent for causing trouble; he is not raised by any human parents—he will just smash his way right in." That little monk ran out at once and knelt down trembling, saying, "Venerable Lords, the Tang Venerable invites you in." Bajie laughed and said, "Brother, he invites us, that’s fine—but why is he trembling so?" Wukong said, "He is frightened by our ugliness." Bajie said, "How absurd! We were born this way—who would want to be ugly on purpose?" Wukong said, "Then tidy up that ugliness a little." The Idiot truly tucked his snout into his bosom, lowered his head, and led the horse; Sha Seng shouldered the load; Wukong followed behind with his staff in hand, escorting that woman. They entered together. Passing through the collapsed corridors, they went through three gates, tied up the horse, and set down the load. They entered the abbot’s quarters, exchanged greetings with the Lama monk, and took their seats according to rank. The monk went inside and brought out seventy or eighty little lamas. After the courtesies were completed, they prepared a vegetarian meal to entertain them. It was just as the saying goes: To accumulate merit, one must have compassionate thoughts; When the Buddha’s Dharma flourishes, monks praise monks. But after all, we do not know how they left the temple—listen to the next chapter for the explanation.