Chapter 84

Thus spoke Tripitaka Tang, having firmly preserved his primordial yang and escaped from the snares of wanton pleasures. He and his followers headed west, and before they knew it, summer had arrived. It was just at that time when the warm breezes first stirred, and the plum rains fell in fine threads—a fair scene indeed: Lush green shade grows thick and dense; Light winds, and swallows lead their fledglings. Fresh lotus leaves turn over the pond’s face; Tall bamboos gradually put forth new shoots. Fragrant grasses stretch to the azure sky; Mountain flowers spread in carpets everywhere. By the stream, rushes stand like planted swords; Pomegranate flames lend vigor to the journey. The master and his four disciples, enduring the heat, were on their way when suddenly they saw, by the roadside, two rows of tall willows. From their shade emerged an old woman, holding a small child by her right hand. She called out loudly to Tripitaka, “Monk, do not go any farther! Turn your horse back east at once—all ways west lead only to death.” Startled, Tripitaka dismounted, made a salutation, and said, “Elderly Bodhisattva, as the ancients said: ‘The vast sea lets fish leap; the wide sky lets birds fly.’ How can it be that going west leaves no road?” The old woman pointed west with her hand and said, “About five or six li from here lies the Kingdom of Extinction of Buddhism. In a former life, that king incurred enmity, and in this life he has wantonly committed evil. Two years ago he made a great vow to slay ten thousand monks. Over these two years, in succession, he has killed nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-six nameless monks, and now he only waits for four famous monks to make up the full ten thousand, so that his vow may be completed. If you go there and enter the city, you will all be ‘Bodhisattvas of Delivered Lives.’” Hearing this, Tripitaka grew fearful and trembled, saying, “Elderly Bodhisattva, I am deeply grateful for your kind regard, beyond words. But may I ask if there is any byroad that does not enter the city? Let this poor monk go around.” The old woman laughed and said, “You cannot go around, you cannot go around. Unless you can fly, you cannot pass.” Bajie, standing beside them, bragged, “Mother, don’t talk nonsense—we can all fly.” But Wukong, with his fiery golden eyes, could truly tell good from bad: the old woman holding the child was none other than Guanyin Bodhisattva and Sudhana. In panic, he threw himself down and prostrated himself, crying, “Bodhisattva, your disciple failed to greet you, failed to greet you.” The Bodhisattva lightly mounted a cloud of auspicious vapor. The elder Tang was so frightened he knew not where to stand, and could only kneel and kowtow; Bajie and Sha Monk also knelt in haste and bowed toward heaven. In a moment, the auspicious cloud drifted away and straight back to the South Sea. Wukong rose, helped his master up, and said, “Please rise, the Bodhisattva has returned to her precious mountain.” Tripitaka stood up and said, “Wukong, since you recognized the Bodhisattva, why did you not say so earlier?” Wukong laughed, “You had not even finished asking your question when I prostrated myself—how could that be late?” Bajie and Sha Monk said to Wukong, “Thanks to the Bodhisattva’s guidance, ahead must be the Kingdom of Extinction of Buddhism, where they kill monks. What are we to do?” Wukong said, “Silly fool, do not fear. We have encountered venomous demons and fierce monsters, tiger dens and dragon pools, and have never been harmed; this is merely a country of ordinary mortals—what is there to fear? Only, this is no place to stop, and dusk is falling. There are villagers and market-goers returning from the city; if they see that we are monks and raise a hue and cry, it will not be safe. Let us lead Master off the main road and find some secluded spot to make our plans.” So Tripitaka agreed, and they all left the road and sat down in a hollow. Wukong said, “Brothers, take good care of Master while Old Sun changes his form and goes to spy on that city, to find a byroad so we can travel by night.” Tripitaka admonished, “Disciple, do not take this lightly—the king’s law will not tolerate us; you must be careful.” Wukong laughed, “Rest assured, rest assured. Old Sun knows what to do.” Great Sage, having spoken, he sprang up with a whoosh into the air. Marvelous: Above, no rope pulls him; Below, no pole props him. Born of the same parents, Yet his bones are light. He stood in the clouds and looked down. He saw the city suffused with joyous radiance and auspicious light. Wukong said, “A fine place—why should it extinguish the Dharma?” He watched for a while, and gradually dusk fell; he saw again: On the cross-streets, lanterns shine brightly; In the nine-tiered palace, incense fragrance and bells toll. Seven glimmering stars light the azure sky; Travelers from eight directions lay down their loads. In the six army camps, faintly the horn has just blown; From the five-drum tower, drop by drop the water-clock first drips. On all sides, evening mist grows dim; In the three marketplaces, cold haze spreads thick. Pairs of husbands and wives retire to embroidered curtains; A single round moon rises in the east. He thought, “I must go down and look about the streets for a route, but with this face, if people see me, they will surely say I am a monk. Let me change.” He made a mudra, spoke the true incantation, shook himself, and changed into a lantern moth: Slender form, tiny wings, light and nimble, Drawn to extinguish lamps and flutter at candles toward brightness. His original face transformed and born anew— From among rotting grasses, a spirit awakened. He loves the flaming heat of burning lights, Busily flitting and circling without rest. Purple-clad, fragrant-winged, chasing the fireflies— Most fond of still, deep nights when the wind is calm. Fluttering and whirling, he flew toward the six streets and three markets, skirting eaves and house corners. As he went, he suddenly saw, at a turn in the lane, a row of houses, each with a lantern hanging at its door. He said, “Are these people celebrating the Lantern Festival? Why do they all have lanterns lined up?” He stiffened his wings, flew closer, and looked carefully. Right in the middle, one house had a square lantern with the words “Lodging for Traveling Merchants” written on it, and below, “Wang Xiao’er’s Inn.” Only then did Wukong realize it was a tavern. He stretched his head to look further, and saw eight or nine men who had all eaten supper, loosened their clothes, taken off their headkerchiefs, washed their hands and feet, and each gone to bed. Wukong secretly rejoiced, “Master can get through.” How did he know they could get through? He conceived an ill intent: while those men slept, he would steal their clothes and headkerchiefs, disguise himself as a layman, and enter the city. Alas! Things did not go as he wished. Just as he was thinking, the innkeeper came forward and said, “Gentlemen, be careful—here we have both good and bad sorts; each of you must take care of your clothes and luggage.” Now, men who travel for trade are always careful; and hearing the innkeeper’s warning, they became even more cautious. They all got up and said, “Host, you speak rightly. We travelers endure hardship and fear that once asleep, we may not wake in time, and if something is lost, what then? Please take these clothes, headkerchiefs, and bundles inside, and at daybreak return them to us for our departure.” The innkeeper truly took all such items and moved them into his inner room. Wukong, impatient, spread his wings and flew straight in, perching on a headkerchief rack. He then saw Wang Xiao’er go to the door, take down the lantern, lower the shutter, close the windows and doors, and only then enter his room, undress, and lie down. The innkeeper had a wife who was looking after two children, crying and fussing, so she did not sleep quickly. The wife also took a tattered garment and busied herself mending it, nor did she seem about to sleep. Monkey thought to himself, “If I wait till this old woman is asleep to make my move, won’t I delay Master?” He also feared that the city gates would be closed as it was late, so he could not restrain himself; he flew down and threw himself at the lamp. Truly: He cast his body into the flame, / Scorched his brow to snatch a remnant of life. The lamp was already extinguished. He then shook himself and changed into a rat, squeaking twice, and jumped down, took the clothes and headscarf, and headed out. The old woman cried out in panic, “Old man, bad news! A night rat has become a spirit!” When Monkey heard this, he used another trick, blocked the door, and shouted loudly, “Wang Xiao'er, don’t listen to your wife’s nonsense. I am no night rat spirit. An upright man does not do things in secret. I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, come to earth to escort Tripitaka to the Western Heaven to fetch scriptures. Because your king is unrighteous, I have come specially to borrow these clothes and headscarf to disguise my master. As soon as we have passed through the city, I will return them.” When Wang Xiao'er heard this, he scrambled up in a hurry, but in the pitch darkness, he grabbed his trousers as a shirt; he tried to put them on left and right but could not get them on. Now the Great Sage used a spell to transport himself and had already ridden the clouds away. He then turned back and went directly to the pit by the roadside. Tripitaka, seeing the bright stars and moon, leaned out and gazed intently; when he saw Monkey approaching, he called out, “Disciple, can we get past the Mie Fa Kingdom?” Monkey came forward and set down the clothes, saying, “Master, to pass through the Mie Fa Kingdom, we cannot remain monks.” Pigsy said, “Brother, who are you trying to fool? It’s easy not to be a monk: just don’t shave your head for half a year, and hair will grow out.” Monkey said, “Who can wait half a year? Right now we all have to become laymen.” That blockhead was startled and said, “But you don’t make sense at all. We are all monks now, and we have to become laymen right away – how can we wear headscarves? Even if we tie them around, there’s no place to fasten the top cord.” Tripitaka scolded, “Don’t talk nonsense; attend to the business. What exactly is the situation?” Monkey said, “Master, I have already examined this city. Although the king is unrighteous and kills monks, he is nonetheless a true Son of Heaven, and there are auspicious lights and joyful signs over the city. I also know the streets within the city, and I understand the local dialect and can speak it. Just now I borrowed these clothes and headscarves at the inn. Let us disguise ourselves as laymen, enter the city to find lodging, get up at the fourth watch, have the innkeeper prepare a vegetarian meal, and wait until the fifth watch to go out through the city gate and continue westward on the main road. If someone meets us and tries to stop us, we can argue: we can say we are imperial envoys from a superior state, and the king who destroys the Dharma would not dare to detain us and would let us pass.” Sandy said, “Elder brother’s plan is best; let us follow his lead.” Indeed, the elder had no choice but to take off his monastic robe, remove his monk’s cap, put on lay clothes, and wear a headscarf. Sandy also changed. Pigsy’s head was too big to wear a headscarf, so Monkey took some needle and thread, split two headscarves open and sewed them into one, and draped it over his head; he picked a loose-fitting garment and put it on him. Then he himself also changed and said, “Gentlemen, for this journey, let us set aside the terms ‘master’ and ‘disciple’ for a while.” Pigsy asked, “If we put aside those four words, what shall we call each other?” Monkey said, “We shall address each other as brothers: Master shall be called Tang the Elder, you shall be Zhu the Third, Sandy shall be Sha the Fourth, and I shall be Sun the Second. But when we get to the inn, you must not speak a word; let me do all the answering. If they ask what business we are in, say we are horse traders, using this white horse as a sample. Say that we are ten brothers, and the four of us have come ahead to rent a room and sell horses. The innkeeper will certainly treat us well; after we have enjoyed his hospitality, when we leave, I will pick up a piece of tile and change it into a silver coin to thank him, and then we will be on our way.” The elder had no choice but to comply reluctantly. The four of them hurriedly led the horse and carried the pole, and ran over to the other side. This was a peaceful place; at the first watch, the gates were still not closed, so they went straight in. They arrived at Wang Xiao'er's inn and heard shouting inside. One said, “I've lost my headscarf.” Another said, “I've lost my clothes.” Monkey pretended not to know and led them to a lodging house diagonally opposite. The family there had not yet taken down their lanterns, so he approached the door and called, “Innkeeper, do you have a spare room where we can stay?” A woman inside replied, “Yes, yes, yes, please come upstairs, gentlemen.” Before she finished speaking, a man came out to take the horse, and Monkey handed him the horse to lead in. He then led the master past the lamp's shadow and straight up to the upper floor, where there were convenient tables and chairs. They pushed open the window lattice, and by the moonlight they all sat down in order. Then someone came to light a lamp, but Monkey blocked the door and blew it out with one breath, saying, “With such a bright moon, we don't need a lamp.” The man had just gone down when another maidservant brought up four bowls of clear tea, which Pilgrim received. From downstairs there also came up a woman, about fifty-seven or fifty-eight years of age, who went straight up the stairs and stood to one side. She asked, "Honored guests, where do you come from? What precious goods do you have?" Pilgrim said, "We come from the north and have a few coarse horses for sale." The woman said, "Horse traders are still of small account." Pilgrim said, "This is Sir Tang the Elder, this is Sir Zhu the Third, this is Sir Sha the Fourth, and I, your student, am Sir Sun the Second." The woman laughed and said, "Different surnames." Pilgrim said, "Exactly so—we are of different surnames living together: we are ten brothers in all; the four of us came first to rent a lodging and make a fire, while the other six are staying outside the city, leading a herd of horses. Because it was late, they could not enter the city. We shall wait until we have rented a house, and tomorrow morning they will all come in. We will return only after we have sold the horses." The woman said, "How many horses are there in the herd?" Pilgrim said, "Large and small, about a hundred or more, all like this horse of mine in build, but their coats are not all the same." The woman laughed and said, "Sir Sun the Second is truly a master of trade and a guide to merchants. It is fortunate that you have come to my humble house; no second establishment would dare to take you in. My humble house has broad courtyards, complete mangers and racks, and plenty of fodder; even several hundred horses can be accommodated. But there is one thing: my humble house has kept this inn for many years and has a modest reputation. My late husband was surnamed Zhao; unfortunately, he passed away long ago. I am called the Widow Zhao's Inn. In my inn we entertain guests in three grades. Now, as the saying goes, 'first the petty man, then the gentleman'—let us first settle the room rates, so that we may settle accounts later." Pilgrim said, "Well said. What are these three grades of entertainment in your establishment? As the common saying has it: 'Goods have high and low prices in three grades; guests, whether near or far, are treated alike.' Why do you speak of three grades? Pray tell me so I may hear." Widow Zhao said, "Here we have the upper, middle, and lower grades. The upper grade consists of a feast of five fruits and five dishes, with a table ornamented with lion-shaped sugar confections; two guests to a table, and a young singing-girl is invited to accompany you in song and rest, each guest costing five maces of silver, including the room charge." Pilgrim laughed and said, "That is reasonable! Where I come from, five maces of silver would not even be enough to hire a young girl." The widow continued, "The middle grade consists of a combined tray table, with only fruits and heated wine, poured out for you to play finger-guessing and drinking games yourselves, without young girls, each guest costing only two maces of silver." Pilgrim said, "Even more reasonable. And what about the lower grade?" The woman said, "I dare not speak of it before honored guests." Pilgrim said, "Just say it—it does not matter; we can choose what suits us." The woman said, "The lower grade has no attendants; there is convenient rice in the pot, and you may eat as you please. When you have eaten your fill, take a handful of straw, spread a bed on the floor, and sleep wherever is convenient. At daybreak, you may give a few coppers for the meal, and I will certainly not argue." When Bajie heard this, he said, "What luck, what luck! This old Zhu's business has arrived! Let me watch over the pot, eat my fill of rice, and sleep by the kitchen door!" Pilgrim said, "Brother, what are you saying? You and I have traveled far and wide—where can we not earn a few taels of silver? Bring out the upper-grade arrangements." The woman was overjoyed and at once called out, "Bring good tea! Quickly prepare things in the kitchen!" She then went downstairs and hurriedly ordered, "Kill chickens and geese, simmer salted dishes for the meal." She also called, "Kill pigs and sheep; if we do not use them today, they can be used tomorrow. Prepare good wine, take white rice for cooking, and white flour for making pancakes." When Tripitaka heard this from upstairs, he said, "Sir Sun the Second, what shall we do? They are going to kill chickens, geese, pigs, and sheep—if they bring them up, we all observe perpetual vegetarian fasting—who among us would dare to eat?" Pilgrim said, "I have an idea." He stamped his foot by the stairway door and said, "Mother Zhao, come up." The woman came up and said, "Second Sir, what instructions have you?" Pilgrim said, "Do not kill any living creatures today; we are observing a fast today." The widow said in surprise, "Sirs, is it a perpetual fast or a monthly fast?" Pilgrim said, "Neither; we observe what is called the Gengshen Fast. Today is the Gengshen day, so we fast. Only after the third watch passes, when it becomes Xin You, will we break the fast. You may slaughter tomorrow. For now, arrange some vegetarian dishes, and we will certainly pay according to the upper-grade price." The woman was even more delighted and ran downstairs, saying, "Do not slaughter! Do not slaughter! Take some wood ear fungus, Fujian bamboo shoots, bean curd, wheat gluten, pull some fresh greens from the garden, make a noodle soup, steam leavened rolls, cook white rice, and brew fragrant tea." Alas! Those kitchen cooks, being accustomed to their work every day, had everything arranged in an instant, set out on the upstairs table, and there were also ready-made lion-shaped sugar confections, which the four of them enjoyed freely. She then asked, "May you take vegetarian wine?" Pilgrim said, "Only Sir Tang the Elder does not partake; we may drink a few cups." The widow then brought a flagon of warm wine. The three of them had just poured their cups when suddenly they heard a clattering sound of planks. Pilgrim said, "Mother, what household fire has fallen downstairs?" The widow said, "No, it is a few tenants from my little estate who brought rent rice and arrived late; I told them to sleep downstairs. Because you honored guests have come, and I have no one to use, I told them to carry a sedan chair to the pleasure quarter to invite some young singing-girls to accompany you—I think the sedan poles knocked against the floorboards." Pilgrim said, "Fortunately you mentioned it—do not go to invite them: first, it is a day of fasting; second, our brothers have not yet arrived. Better to wait until tomorrow when they all come in, and then we can each invite a courtesan to have some fun at your establishment, after we have sold the horses and are ready to leave." The widow said, "Good people, good people—this way we neither lose goodwill nor exhaust our spirits." She ordered, "Carry the sedan chair back in; do not go to invite them." The four of them ate their meal and drank their wine, the utensils were cleared away, and all dispersed. Tripitaka whispered quietly by Pilgrim's ear, "Where shall we sleep?" Pilgrim said, "Let us sleep upstairs." Tripitaka said, "It is not safe. We have all been through much hardship; if we fall asleep, and someone from this household comes to tidy up and sees that we have rolled off our caps or exposed our shaven heads, recognizing us as monks, and raises an outcry—how would that be good?" Pilgrim said, "True!" He again stamped his foot at the front of the stairs, and the widow came up again and said, "Sir Sun, what further instructions have you?" Pilgrim said, "Where shall we sleep?" The woman said, "Upstairs is good for sleeping; there are no mosquitoes, and the south wind is blowing. With the windows wide open, it is excellent for sleep." Pilgrim said, "We cannot sleep here. This Sir Zhu the Third of mine has some cold-damp problems, Sir Sha the Fourth has a leaking-shoulder wind, Elder Brother Tang must sleep in the dark, and I myself have some sensitivity to light—this place is not suitable for sleeping." The mother went downstairs and leaned against the counter, sighing. She had a daughter who, carrying a child in her arms, came closer and said, "Mother, as the saying goes: 'Sit ten days at the shoal, and in one day you will pass nine shoals.' Now it is hot summer, and though there is little business, when autumn comes, the trade will be more than we can handle—so why do you sigh?" The woman said, "My child, I am not troubled by lack of business. Tonight, just as we were about to close the shop, at the hour of the first watch, these four horse dealers came to rent a room, and they wanted proper service. I truly hoped to earn a few silver pieces from them, but they keep a vegetarian diet, so I cannot earn their money—that is why I sigh." The daughter said, "Since they have already eaten their meal, they will not easily go to another place. Tomorrow we can still arrange meat and wine—how can we not earn their money?" The woman replied, "Moreover, they are all ill, fear the wind, and are ashamed of light—they all want to sleep in darkness. Think of our house, which is all roofed with single flimsy tiles—where can we find a dark place? Better to give them a meal and send them elsewhere." The daughter said, "Mother, there is a dark place in our house, and it has no draft—very good, very good." The woman asked, "Where is that?" The daughter said, "Father, when he was alive, once made a large cabinet. That cabinet is four feet wide, seven feet long, and three feet high, and can sleep six or seven people inside. Let them sleep in the cabinet." The woman said, "I wonder if they will agree? Let me ask them. —Master Sun, in my humble abode there is no dark place save one large cabinet, which is windproof and lightproof. How would it be to sleep inside the cabinet?" Wukong said, "Fine, fine, fine." At once he had several attendants carry out the cabinet, open the lid, and invite them to come down from the upper floor. Wukong led the master, and Sha Monk carried the pole, following the lamplight straight to the cabinet. Bajie, regardless of anything, first scrambled into the cabinet. Sha Monk handed in the luggage, helped Tang Monk enter, and then Sha Monk also went inside. Wukong said, "Where is my horse?" A servant nearby said, "The horse is tied in the back room eating fodder." Wukong said, "Lead it here, bring the manger, and tie it close beside the cabinet." Only then did he enter himself, and called out, "Dame Zhao, put on the lid, insert the locking pin, and lock the lock. Also check for us where it lets in light, and paste paper over it. Come open it early tomorrow morning." The widow said, "You are overly cautious." Thereupon each closed the doors and went to sleep—no more of that for now. Now the four of them were inside the cabinet—pitiable indeed! First, they had just put on headbands; second, the weather was scorching hot, and the air was stifling, with hardly any ventilation. They all took off their headbands and removed their clothes, but had no fans, only flapping their monk's caps about. They pressed against one another, until around the second watch, they all fell asleep. Only Wukong, intent on causing trouble, could not sleep. He reached out and pinched Bajie's thigh. The idiot drew back his leg and grumbled, "Let's sleep! After all this hardship, what heart have you for pinching and poking in play?" Wukong, playing tricks, said, "Our original principal was five thousand taels. Earlier we sold the horses for three thousand, and now in the two pouches there are four thousand in cash, and this herd of horses can still sell for three thousand—that makes principal and interest equal. Enough, enough." Bajie, who just wanted to sleep, made no reply. Little did they know that the waiters, water-carriers, and cooks in this inn were all in league with bandits. Hearing Wukong say there was so much silver, they sent a few men to slip out and gather more than twenty robbers, who came with torches and weapons to loot the horse dealers, bursting through the door. The widow Zhao and her daughter were so terrified that they trembled and shut their doors, letting the robbers do as they pleased outside. The robbers, however, did not want the shop's furnishings—they only sought the guests. They went upstairs and found no trace. Lighting torches, they looked all around, and saw in the courtyard a large cabinet, with a white horse tied to one of its legs, and the lid firmly locked so they could not move it. The robbers said, "Men who travel the rivers and lakes all have their tricks. This cabinet looks heavy—surely their luggage and money are locked inside. Let us steal the horse, carry the cabinet out of the city, open it and divide the spoils—would that not be good?" The robbers indeed found ropes and carrying poles, hoisted the cabinet, and went off with it, swaying and rocking. Bajie woke up and said, "Brother, let's sleep—why are you shaking?" Wukong said, "Don't speak; no one is shaking." Tripitaka and Sha Monk suddenly woke up as well and said, "Who is carrying us?" Wukong said, "Don't shout, don't shout. Let them carry—if they carry us all the way to the Western Heaven, it saves us the trouble of walking." Having got their prize, the robbers did not go west, but headed east of the city, killed the gate guards, broke open the city gates, and went out. This immediately alarmed the night patrols and fire wardens of all the streets and markets, who reported to the Chief Military Inspector of the city patrol and the Eastern City Military Commandery. The Inspector and the Commander, since it was their duty, at once mustered cavalry, bowmen, and soldiers, and rode out of the city to pursue the robbers. Seeing the overwhelming force of the officials, the robbers dared not resist—they dropped the large cabinet, abandoned the white horse, and each fled into the wilds. The government troops captured not a single bandit, but they seized the cabinet and caught the horse, and returned in triumph. The Chief Military Inspector, under lamplight, looked at the horse—what a fine horse: Its mane parted in silver threads, its tail waved like jade strips. What talk of the eight steeds of kings—it surpassed the Suāng and the Kuànduàn. A thousand taels for the bone, ten thousand li chasing the wind. Climbing mountains, ever meeting the green clouds; howling at the moon, pure as white snow. Truly a flood-dragon from the island seas—among men, a joyful jade qilin. The Chief Inspector did not ride his own horse, but mounted this white horse, led his troops back into the city, carried the cabinet to the Inspector's headquarters, sealed it with a strip of paper, set men to guard it until dawn, when he would present a memorial and await the imperial decree. The troops dispersed—no more of that. Now the elder Tang, inside the cabinet, reproached Wukong: "You ape, you have destroyed me! If we were outside and were captured and brought before the king of the Kingdom of Extinguishing France, we could still argue our case. But now we are locked in this cabinet, stolen by bandits, and then seized by officials—tomorrow we shall be brought before the king, and we will be neatly presented for execution, thus completing his count of ten thousand—what then?" Wukong said, "If someone outside opens the cabinet and pulls us out, we would either be bound or hung. Bear it a little longer, and we avoid being tied or hung. Tomorrow, when we see that benighted ruler, Old Sun will have his answers, and I guarantee not a hair on you shall be harmed. Rest easy and sleep." When the third watch came, Wukong used his arts. He brought out his staff, blew on it a breath of immortal air, and said, "Change!" It turned into a three-pointed drill. He drilled two or three holes near the cabinet's foot and made an eyelet. He put away the drill, shook his body, and changed into an ant, crawling out. Resuming his true form, he mounted the clouds and went straight to the gate of the imperial palace. The king was in deep sleep. Wukong employed his "Great Divided Body Universal Pervasion Dharma," plucked all the hairs from his left arm, blew on them a breath of immortal air, and said, "Change!" They all turned into little Wukongs. He also plucked the hairs from his right arm, blew on them, and said, "Change!" They all turned into drowsiness bugs. He recited the true word "Om," and commanded the local earth spirits to lead the multitude and spread throughout the palace's inner courts, the five mansions, six ministries, and the residences of all officials great and small—and to every one who held rank, they gave a drowsiness bug, so that each slept soundly and was not allowed to turn over. He then took his Golden-Banded Staff in hand, weighed it, shook it, and called, "Precious, change!" It turned into a thousand, a hundred razors. He took one, and ordered the little Wukongs each to take one, and they all went to the inner palace courts, the five mansions, the six ministries, and every government office to shave heads. Ah! This truly is: The Dharma King extinguishing the Dharma—Dharma without end; Dharma pervades Heaven and Earth, the great Way opens through. All dharmas in their fundamental cause return to one body; The wondrous forms of the Three Vehicles are originally the same. Drilling open the jade casket to reveal the hidden tidings, Spreading golden hairs to break through covering darkness. Surely the Dharma King shall achieve the right fruit, Neither born nor dying, coming and going are void. This midnight the shaving was accomplished. He recited the incantation and dismissed the Earth God and the local spirits. He shook his body, and the hairs on both arms subsided back into place. He rolled all the shaving knives into one true form, once again recognized his original nature, and they became a single Golden Cudgel, which he reduced to a tiny shape and hid within his ear. Then he turned over and again became a tiny ant, drilled into the cabinet, revealed his true form, and stayed there guarding Tang Monk—but no more of this. Now in the imperial palace, the palace maidens and decorated ladies rose before dawn to wash and dress, and every one of them had lost her hair; the eunuchs great and small who served within the palace also had lost their hair. All crowded together and came to the outer bedchamber, where they played music to rouse the sleepers, each holding back tears and not daring to speak. After a little while, the three consorts of the rear palace awoke and also had lost their hair. They quickly moved a lamp to look beneath the dragon bed, and there in the brocade quilt lay a monk. The consort could not contain herself and spoke out, startling the king. The king urgently opened his eyes and saw the consort’s bare head; he swiftly sat up and said, “My dear, how have you become like this?” The consort said, “Your Majesty is likewise so.” The emperor felt his own head and was so terrified that his Three Corpses groaned and his Seven Spirits flew into the void. He said, “What has happened to me?” While he was still in panic, the six-court concubines, palace maidens, decorated ladies, and the eunuchs great and small all knelt bareheaded and said, “Your Majesty, we have all become monks.” When the king saw this, tears flowed from his eyes and he said, “I suppose I have killed monks…” Then he issued an edict: “None of you must speak of the matter of the shaven heads, lest the civil and military officials criticize the state for impropriety. We shall all go to the court and hold the morning audience.” Now the Five Mansions and Six Ministries, and the civil and military officials of all offices, before daybreak all had to go to court to pay homage to the king. As it happened, this midnight every one of them had also lost his hair. Each wrote a memorial to report this matter. Then they heard only: Thrice the silent whip cracked before the emperor, As memorials were presented on the cause of this shaving. But whether the commander-in-chief seized the stolen goods from the cabinet, and what became of the lives of Tang Monk and his four disciples—hear the explanation in the next chapter.