The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 3

by Unknown

  As they proceeded, they heard someone by the road calling, “Holy Tang Monk, eat the food first before you go.” The elder was terribly frightened. We do not know who it was that called them; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.

  FIFTY-THREE

  Imbibing, the Chan Lord conceives a ghostly child;

  Yellow Dame brings water to end the weird fetus.

  Perform eight hundred virtuous acts;

  Make three thousand unknown merits.

  Treating justly thing and self, kin and foe,

  Will fit Western Heaven’s basic vow.1

  Bull-demon fears no knife or sword;

  In vain water and fire have toiled.

  Laozi subdues it, turns its face to Heav’n—

  Laughing, he now the green buffalo leads.2

  We were telling you that someone by the road was calling the pilgrims. “Who could it be?” you ask. They were actually the mountain god and the local spirit of the Golden Helmet Mountain. Holding up the almsbowl of purple gold, they cried, “O Holy Monk! This bowl of rice was one which the Great Sage Sun succeeded in begging from a good place. Because all of you did not listen to sound advice, you fell by mistake into the hands of a demon. The Great Sage had to toil and struggle most pitifully before he managed to rescue you today. Come and eat the rice first before you journey. Don’t abuse the filial reverence of the Great Sage.” “Disciple,” said Tripitaka, “I’m deeply indebted to you, and I can’t thank you enough. If I had known it before, I would have never left that circle of yours and there would have been no such mortal danger.” “To tell you the truth, Master,” said Pilgrim, “because you did not believe in my circle, you had to be placed in someone else’s circle. What suffering you had to bear! It’s lamentable!” “What do you mean by someone else’s circle?” asked Eight Rules. Pilgrim replied, “Coolie, it was the doing of your cursed mouth and cursed tongue that landed this great ordeal on Master. What old Monkey dug up in Heaven and on Earth—the fire, the water, the celestial soldiers, and the cinnabar sand of the Buddha—they were all sucked away by a ghostly white fillet of his. Through two arhats, however, Tathāgata secretly revealed to old Monkey the origin of that fiend, and only then could we ask Laozi to come here to subdue him. It was his green buffalo that was causing all the trouble.” When Tripitaka heard this, he thanked him profusely, saying, “Worthy disciple, after this experience, I will certainly listen to you next time.” Whereupon the four of them divided up the rice to eat, rice that was still steaming hot. “This rice has been here for a long time,” said Pilgrim. “Why is it still hot?” Kneeling down, the local spirit said, “Since this humble deity has learned that the Great Sage has achieved his merit, he heated up the rice first before serving it.” In a moment, they finished the rice and put away the almsbowl.

  Having taken leave of the mountain god and the local spirit, the master mounted his horse to pass the tall mountain. Thus it was that

  Mind purged of care, they the Buddha’s wisdom embrace;3

  They dine on wind and rest by water to journey West.

  After traveling for a long time, it was again early spring and they heard

  Purple swallows murmuring

  And orioles warbling.

  Purple swallows murmur, tiring their scented beaks;

  Orioles warble, their artful notes persist.

  Ground full of fallen blooms like brocade spread out;

  Whole mountain birthing green like mounds of moss.

  On the peak green plums are budding;

  The cliff’s cedars detain the clouds.

  Faint, misty lights o’er the meadows;

  Sandbars warmed by bright sunshine.

  In few gardens floral stamens unfold;

  The sun back to earth turns willow strands gold.

  As they walked along, they came upon a small river of cool, limpid currents. The elder Tang reined in his horse to look around and saw in the distance several thatched huts beneath willows hanging jadelike. Pointing in that direction, Pilgrim said, “There must be someone running a ferryboat in those houses.” “It’s likely,” said Tripitaka, “but since I haven’t seen a boat, I don’t dare open my mouth.” Dropping down the luggage, Eight Rules shouted, “Hey, ferryman! Punt your boat over here.” He yelled several times and indeed, from beneath the shade of willows a boat emerged, creaking as it was punted. In a little while, it approached the shore while master and disciples stared at it. Truly,

  As a paddle parts the foam,

  A light boat floats on the waves,

  With olive cabins brightly painted

  And a deck made of flat, level boards.

  On the bow, iron cords encircle;

  At the stern, a shining rudder stem.

  Though it may be a reed of a boat,

  It will sail the lakes and the seas;

  Though without fancy cables and tall masts,

  It has, in fact, oars of cedar and pine.

  It’s unlike the divine ship of great distance,

  But it can traverse a river’s width.

  It comes and goes only between two banks;

  It moves only in and out of ancient fords.

  In a moment, the boat touched the bank, and the person punting called out: “If you want to cross the river, come over here.” Tripitaka urged his horse forward to take a look at the boatman and saw that the person had

  On the head a woolen wrap

  And on the feet, two black silk shoes;

  On the body, an often patched cotton coat;

  A thousand-stitched, old cloth skirt hugged the waist.

  The wrists had coarse skin and the tendons, strength;

  Dim eyes, knitted brows showed features of age.

  The voice like an oriole’s was soft and coy;

  An old woman appeared on closer look.

  Walking to the side of the boat, Pilgrim said, “You are the one ferrying the boat?” “Yes,” said the woman. “Why is the ferryman not here?” asked Pilgrim. “Why is the ferrywoman punting the boat?” The woman smiled and did not reply; she pulled out the gangplank instead and set it up. Sha Monk then poled the luggage into the boat, followed by the master holding onto Pilgrim. Then they moved the boat sideways so that Eight Rules could lead the horse to step into it. After the gangplank was put away, the woman punted the boat away from shore and, in a moment, rowed it across the river.

  After they reached the western shore, the elder asked Sha Monk to untie one of the wraps and take out a few pennies for the woman. Without disputing the price, the woman tied the boat to a wooden pillar by the water and walked into one of the village huts nearby, giggling loudly all the time. When Tripitaka saw how clear the water was, he felt thirsty and told Eight Rules: “Get the almsbowl and fetch some water for me to drink.” “I was just about to drink some myself,” said Idiot, who took out the almsbowl and bailed out a full bowl of water to hand over to the master. The master drank less than half of the water, and when Idiot took the bowl back, he drank the rest of it in one gulp before he helped his master to mount the horse once more.

  After master and disciples found their way to the West they had hardly traveled half an hour when the elder began to groan as he rode. “Stomachache!” he said. Eight Rules, who was behind him, also said, “I have a stomachache, too.” Sha Monk said, “It must be the cold water you drank.” But before he even finished speaking, the elder cried out: “The pain’s awful!” Eight Rules also screamed, “The pain’s awful!” As the two of them struggled with this unbearable pain, their bellies began to swell in size steadily. Inside their abdomens, there seemed to be a clot of blood or a lump of flesh, which could be felt clearly by the hand, kicking and jumping wildly about. Tripitaka was in great discomfort when they came upon a small village by the road; two bundles of hay were tied to some branches on a tall tree nearby. “Master, that’s good!” said Pilgrim. “The house over there must be an inn. Let me go over there to beg some hot liquid for you. I’ll ask them also whether there is an
apothecary around, so that I can get some ointment for your stomachache.”

  Delighted by what he heard, Tripitaka whipped his white horse and soon arrived at the village. As he dismounted, he saw an old woman sitting on a grass mound outside the village gate and knitting hemp. Pilgrim went forward and bowed to her with palms pressed together saying, “Popo,4 this poor monk has come from the Great Tang in the Land of the East. My master is the royal brother of the Tang court. Because he drank some water from the river back there after we crossed it, he is having a stomachache.” Breaking into loud guffaws, the woman said, “You people drank some water from the river?” “Yes,” replied Pilgrim, “we drank some of the clean river water east of here.” Giggling loudly, the old woman said, “What fun! What fun! Come in, all of you. I’ll tell you something.”

  Pilgrim went to support Tang Monk while Sha Monk held up Eight Rules; moaning with every step, the two sick men walked into the thatched hut to take a seat, their stomachs protruding and their faces turning yellow from the pain. “Popo,” Pilgrim kept saying, “please make some hot liquid for my master. We’ll thank you.” Instead of boiling water, however, the old woman dashed inside, laughing and yelling, “Come and look, all of you!”

  With loud clip-clops, several middle-aged women ran out from within to stare at the Tang Monk, grinning stupidly all the time. Enraged, Pilgrim gave a yell and ground his teeth together, so frightening all of them that they turned to flee, stumbling all over. Pilgrim darted forward and caught the old woman, crying, “Boil some water quick and I’ll spare you!” “Sire!” said the old woman, shaking violently, “boiled water is useless to cure their stomachaches. Let me go, and I’ll tell you.” Pilgrim released her, and she said, “This is the Women State of Western Liang.5 Not even a single male but only women live in our state. That’s why we were amused when we saw you. That water your master drank is not the best, for the river is called Child-and-Mother River. Outside our capital we also have a Male Reception Post-house, by the side of which there is also a Pregnancy Reflection Stream. Only after reaching her twentieth year would someone from this region dare go and drink that river’s water, for she would feel the pain of conception soon after she took a drink. After three days, she would go to the Male Reception Post-house and look at her reflection in the stream. If a double reflection appears, it means that she will give birth to a child. Since your master drank some water from the Child-and-Mother River, he, too, has become pregnant and will give birth to a child. How could hot water cure him?”

  When Tripitaka heard this, he paled with fright. “O disciple,” he cried, “what shall we do?” “O father!” groaned Eight Rules as he twisted to spread his legs further apart, “we are men, and we have to give birth to babies? Where can we find a birth canal? How could the fetus come out?” With a chuckle Pilgrim said, “According to the ancients, ‘A ripe melon will fall by itself.’ When the time comes, you may have a gaping hole at your armpit and the baby will crawl out.”

  When Eight Rules heard this, he shook with fright, and that made the pain all the more unbearable. “Finished! Finished!” he cried. “I’m dead! I’m dead!” “Second Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, laughing, “stop writhing! Stop writhing! You may hurt the umbilical cord and end up with some sort of prenatal sickness.” Our Idiot became more alarmed than ever. Tears welling up in his eyes, he tugged at Pilgrim and said, “Elder Brother, please ask the Popo to see if they have some midwives here who are not too heavy-handed. Let’s find a few right away. The movement inside is becoming more frequent now. It must be labor pain. It’s coming! It’s coming!” Again Sha Monk said, chuckling, “Second Elder Brother, if it’s labor pain, you’d better sit still. I fear you may puncture the water bag.”

  “O Popo,” said Tripitaka with a moan, “do you have a physician here? I’ll ask my disciple to go there and ask for a prescription. We’ll take the drug and have an abortion.” “Even drugs are useless,” said the old woman, “but due south of here there is a Male-Undoing Mountain. In it there is a Child Destruction Cave, and inside the cave there is an Abortion Stream. You must drink a mouthful of water from the stream before the pregnancy can be terminated. But nowadays, it’s not easy to get that water. Last year, a Daoist by the name of True Immortal Compliant came on the scene and he changed the name of the Child Destruction Cave to the Abbey of Immortal Assembly. Claiming the water from the Abortion Stream as his possession, he refused to give it out freely. Anyone who wants the water must present monetary offerings together with meats, wines, and fruit baskets. After bowing to him in complete reverence, you will receive a tiny bowl of the water. But all of you are mendicants. Where could you find the kind of money you need to spend for something like this? You might as well suffer here and wait for the births.” When Pilgrim heard this, he was filled with delight. “Popo,” he said, “how far is it from here to the Male-Undoing Mountain?” “About three thousand miles,” replied the old woman. “Excellent! Excellent!” said Pilgrim. “Relax, Master! Let old Monkey go and fetch some of that water for you to drink.”

  Dear Great Sage! He gave this instruction to Sha Monk: “Take good care of Master. If this family ill behaves and tries to hurt him, bring out your old thuggery and scare them a little. Let me go fetch the water.” Sha Monk obeyed. The old woman then took out a large porcelain bowl to hand over to Pilgrim, saying, “Take this bowl and try to get as much water as possible. We can save some for an emergency.” Indeed, Pilgrim took over the bowl, left that thatched hut, and mounted the cloud to leave. Only then did the old woman fall to her knees, bowing to the air, and cried, “O father! This monk knows how to ride the clouds!” She went inside and told the other women to come out to kowtow to the Tang Monk, all addressing him as arhat or bodhisattva. Then they began to boil water and prepare rice to present to the pilgrims, and we shall leave them for the moment.

  We tell you now about the Great Sage Sun on his cloud somersault; in a little while, he saw the peak of a mountain blocking his path. Dropping down from his cloudy luminosity, he opened wide his eyes to look around. Marvelous mountain! He saw

  Rare flowers spreading brocade;

  Wild grass unrolling blue;

  Plunging streams—one after another;

  Brooks and clouds, both leisurely.

  Canyons, packed together, rank with creepers and vines;

  Ranges, stretching afar, dense with forests and trees.

  Birds call, and wild geese glide by;

  Deer drink, and monkeys clamber.

  A mountain green like a jade screen;

  A ridge blue like locks of hair.

  Difficult indeed to reach from this world of dust!

  Rocks and water splashing, a sight that never tires!

  One often sees immortal lads leave, picking herbs.

  One often meets woodsmen come, bearing loads.

  Truly it’s almost the scenery of Tiantai,

  Surpassing perhaps the three peaks of Mount Hua.

  As the Great Sage stared at the scenery, he discovered also a building with its back on the dark side of the mountain and from where the sound of a dog barking could be heard. Going down the mountain, the Great Sage went toward the building, which was also a rather nice place. Look at the

  Stream piercing a small bridge;

  Thatched huts nestling a green hill.

  A dog barks near the lonely fence;

  The recluse comes and goes at will.

  In a moment he came up to the gate, where he found an old Daoist sitting cross-legged on the green lawn. When the Great Sage put down his porcelain bowl to bow to him, the Daoist rose slightly to return his greeting, saying, “Where did you come from? For what purpose have you come to this humble Abbey?”

  Pilgrim replied, “This poor monk is a scripture pilgrim sent by imperial commission of the Great Tang in the Land of the East. Because my master mistakenly drank water from the Child-and-Mother River, he is suffering from a swollen belly and unbearable pain. We asked the natives there and learned that th
e pregnancy thus formed has no cure. We are told, however, that there is an Abortion Stream in the Child Destruction Cave of the Male-Undoing Mountain, and its water can eliminate the conception. This is why I have come especially to see the True Immortal Compliant, in order to beg from him some water to save my master. May I trouble the old Daoist to lead me to him?” “This used to be the Child Destruction Cave,” said the Daoist, chuckling, “but it’s now changed to the Abbey of Immortal Assembly. I am none other than the eldest disciple of the venerable father, True Immortal Compliant. What’s your name? Tell me so I can announce you.” “I am the eldest disciple of Tripitaka Tang, master of the Law,” said Pilgrim, “and my humble name is Sun Wukong.” “Where are your monetary gifts?” asked the Daoist. “Your offerings of wine?” Pilgrim said, “We are mendicants on a journey, and we haven’t prepared them.”

  “You are quite mad!” said the Daoist, chuckling again. “My old master is now the protector of this mountain stream, and he has never given its water free to anyone. You go back and bring some gifts, and I’ll announce you. Otherwise, please leave. Don’t think about the water!” Pilgrim said, “Goodwill can be more powerful than an imperial edict. If you go and announce the name of old Monkey, I am sure that he will express his goodwill. Perhaps he will turn over the entire well of water to me.”

  This statement of Pilgrim gave the Daoist little alternative but to go inside to make the announcement. As the True Immortal was just playing the lute, the Daoist had to wait until he finished playing before saying, “Master, there is a Buddhist monk outside who claims to be Sun Wukong, the eldest disciple of Tripitaka Tang. He wants some water from the Abortion Stream to save his master.” It would have been better if the True Immortal had not heard the name, for the moment he came upon those words, Wukong,