The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 1

by Unknown

  No longer able to restrain himself after hearing these words, Pilgrim shouted: “You stinking young Daoists! You can’t even recognize people! Whom are you trying to hoodwink? What kind of taradiddle is this? Who is that Heavenly Immortal in the Miluo Palace who wanted to invite this wild bull shank of yours? And what sort of lecture is he going to give?” When Tripitaka saw how aroused Pilgrim was, he feared that the lads might give some reply that would lead to real trouble. So he said, “Wukong, stop being quarrelsome. If we leave this place the moment after we arrive, it is hardly a friendly gesture. The proverb says, ‘The egrets do not devour the egret’s flesh.’ If their teacher is not here, why bother them? You go to graze the horse outside the temple gate; let Sha Monk look after the luggage and Eight Rules fetch some grain from our bags. Let’s borrow their pans and stove to prepare a meal for ourselves. When we are done, we can pay them a few pennies for firewood and that will be the end of the matter. Attend to your business, each of you, and let me rest here for a while. After the meal, we’ll leave.” The three of them duly went about their business.

  Clear Breeze and Bright Moon, filled with admiration, said softly to each other: “What a monk! Truly the incarnation of a lovable sage of the West, whose true origin is not at all obscured! Well, our master did tell us to take care of the Tang Monk and to serve him some ginseng fruits as a token of past friendship. He also cautioned us about the rowdiness of his disciples, and he couldn’t have been more correct. It’s a good thing that those three, so fierce in their looks and so churlish in their manners, were sent away. For had they remained, they would certainly have to see the ginseng fruits.” Then Clear Breeze said, “Brother, we are still not quite certain whether that monk is really an old acquaintance of Master. We had better ask him and not make a mistake.” The two lads therefore went forward again and said, “May we ask the old master whether he is Tripitaka Tang from the Great Tang Empire, who is on his way to fetch scriptures from the Western Heaven?” Returning their bows, the elder said, “I am, indeed. How is it that the immortal youths know my vulgar name?” “Before our master’s departure,” said one of them,” he gave us instructions that we should go some distance to meet you. We did not expect your arrival to be so soon, and thus we failed in the proper etiquette of greeting you. Please take a seat, Master, and allow us to serve you tea.” “I hardly deserve that,” said Tripitaka, but Bright Moon went quickly back to his room and brought back a cup of fragrant tea to present to the elder. After Tripitaka had drunk the tea, Clear Breeze said, “Brother, we must not disobey our master’s command. Let’s go and bring back the fruit.”

  The two lads took leave of Tripitaka and went back to their room, where one of them took out a gold mallet and the other a wooden tray for carrying elixir. They also spread out several silk handkerchiefs on the tray before going to the Ginseng Garden. Clear Breeze then climbed on the tree to strike at the fruits with the mallet, while Bright Moon waited below, holding the tray. In a moment, two of the fruits dropped down and fell onto the tray. The young lads returned to the main hall and presented the fruits to the Tang Monk, saying, “Master Tang, our Five Villages Abbey is situated in the midst of wild and desolate country. There’s not much that we can offer you except these two fruits, our local products. Please use them to relieve your thirst.” When the elder saw the fruits, he trembled all over and backed away three feet, saying, “Goodness! Goodness! The harvest seems to be plentiful this year! But why is this abbey so destitute that they have to practice cannibalism here? These are newborn infants not yet three days old! How could you serve them to me to relieve my thirst?”

  “This monk,” said Clear Breeze quietly to himself, “has been so corrupted by the fields of mouths and tongues, by the sea of strife and envy, that all he possesses are but two fleshly eyes and a worldly mind. That’s why he can’t recognize the strange treasures of our divine abode!” Bright Moon then drew near and said, “Master, this thing is called ginseng fruit. It’s perfectly all right for you to eat one.” “Nonsense! Nonsense!” said Tripitaka. “Their parents went through who knows how much suffering before they brought them to birth! How could you serve them as fruits when they are less than three days old?” Clear Breeze said, “Honestly, they were formed on a tree.” “Rubbish! Rubbish!” said the elder. “How can people grow on trees? Take them away! This is blasphemy!” When the young lads saw that he absolutely refused to eat them, they had no choice but to take the tray back to their own room. The fruit, you see, is peculiar: if it is kept too long, it will become stiff and inedible. So, when the two of them reached their room, they each took one of the fruits and began to eat them, sitting on the edge of their beds.

  Alas, now this is what has to happen! That chamber of theirs, you see, was immediately adjacent to the kitchen; joined, in fact, by a common wall. Even the whispered words from one room could be heard in the other, and Eight Rules was busily cooking rice in the kitchen. All that talk, moments before, about taking the golden mallet and the elixir tray had already caught his attention. Then, when he heard how the Tang Monk could not recognize ginseng fruits that were served him, and how they had to be eaten by the young lads in their own room, he could not stop his mouth watering, and said to himself, “How can I try one myself?” Since he himself was reluctant to do anything, he decided to wait for Pilgrim’s arrival so that they could plan something together. Completely distracted by now from tending the fire in the stove, he kept sticking his head out of the door to watch for Pilgrim. In a little while, he saw Pilgrim arrive, leading the horse. Having tied the horse to a locust tree, Pilgrim started to walk toward the rear, when Idiot waved to him madly with his hands, crying, “Come this way! Come this way!” Pilgrim turned around and went to the door of the kitchen, saying, “Idiot, why are you yelling? Not enough rice, perhaps? Let the old monk have his fill first, and we can beg more rice from some big household along our way.”

  “Come in,” said Eight Rules. “This has nothing to do with the amount of rice we have. There’s a treasure in this Daoist temple. Did you know that?”

  “What kind of treasure?” asked Pilgrim.

  “I can tell you,” said Eight Rules with a laugh, “but you have never seen it; I can put it before you, but you won’t recognize it.” “You must be joking, Idiot,” said Pilgrim. “Five hundred years ago, when I, old Monkey, searched for the Way of Immortality, I went all the way to the corner of the ocean and the edge of the sky. What can there be that I have never seen?”

  “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “have you ever seen the ginseng fruit?” Somewhat startled, Pilgrim said, “That I really have never seen! But I have heard that ginseng fruit is the grass of the reverted cinnabar. When a man eats it, his life will be prolonged. But where can one get ahold of it?” “They have it here,” said Eight Rules. “The two lads brought two of these fruits for Master to eat, but that old monk could not recognize them for what they were. He said that they were infants not yet three days old and dared not eat them. The lads themselves were quite disobliging; if Master would not eat, they should have given them to us. Instead, they hid them from us. Just now in the room next door, each had a fruit to himself and finished it with great relish. I got so excited that I was drooling, wondering how I could have a taste of this fruit. I know you are quite tricky. How about going to their garden and stealing a few for us to have a taste of them?”

  “That’s easy,” said Pilgrim. “Old Monkey will go, and they will be at the reach of his hands!” He turned quickly and began to walk to the front. Eight Rules caught hold of him and said, “Elder Brother, I heard them talking in the room, and they mentioned something about using a gold mallet to knock down the fruits. You must do it properly, and without being detected.” “I know! I know!” exclaimed Pilgrim.

  Our Great Sage used the magic of body concealment and stole into the Daoist chamber. The two Daoist lads, you see, were not in the room, for they had gone back to the main hall to speak to the Tang Monk after they had finished eating the
fruits. Pilgrim looked everywhere for the gold mallet and discovered a stick of red gold hanging on the window pane: it was about two feet long and as thick as a finger. At the lower end there was a knob about the size of a clove of garlic, while the upper end had a hole through which a green woolen thread was fastened. He said to himself: “This must be the thing called the gold mallet.” Taking it down, he left the Daoist chamber, went to the rear, and pushed through a double-leaf door to have a look. Ah, it was a garden! You see

  Vermilion fences and carved railings;

  Artificial hills ruggedly built.

  Strange flowers rival the sun in brightness;

  Bamboos match well the clear sky in blueness.

  Beyond the flowing-cup pavilion,

  One curvate band of willows like mists outspread;

  Before the moon-gazing terrace,

  Bands of choice pines like spilled indigo.

  Shining red,

  Pomegranates with brocade-like sacs;

  Fresh, tender green,

  Grass by the ornamental stools;

  Luxuriant blue,

  Sand-orchids like jade;

  Limpid and smooth,

  The water in the brook.

  The cassia glows with the wutong by the golden well; 9

  The locust trees stand near the red fences and marble steps.

  Some red and some white: peaches with a thousand leaves;

  Some fragrant and some yellow: chrysanthemums of late fall.

  The rush-flower supports

  Complement the peony pavilion;

  The hibiscus terrace

  Connects with the peony plot.

  There are countless princely bamboos that mock the frost,

  And noble pines that defy the snow.

  There are, moreover, crane hamlets and deer homes,

  The square pool and the round pond.

  The stream spills chips of jade;

  The ground sprouts mounds of gold.

  The winter wind cracks and whitens the plum blossoms;

  A touch of spring breaks open the begonia’s red.

  Truly it may be called the best fairy land on Earth,

  The finest floral site of the West.

  Pilgrim could not take his eyes off this marvelous place. He came upon another door that he pushed open and found inside a vegetable garden,

  Planted with the herbs of all four seasons:

  Spinach, celery, mare’s tail,10 beet, ginger, and seaweed;

  Bamboo shoot, melon, squash, and watercress;

  Chive, garlic, coriander, leek, and scallion;

  Hollow water-lotus, young celery, and bitter su;11

  The gourd and the eggplant that must be trimmed;

  Green turnip, white turnip, and taro deep in the earth;

  Red spinach, green cabbage, and purple mustard plant.12

  Pilgrim smiled to himself and said, “So he’s a Daoist who eats his homegrown food!”

  He walked past the vegetable garden and found another door, which he pushed open also. Ah! There was a huge tree right in the middle of the garden, with long, healthy branches and luxuriant green leaves that somewhat resembled those of the plantain. Soaring straight up, the tree was over a thousand feet tall, and its base must have measured sixty or seventy feet around. Leaning on the tree, Pilgrim looked up and found one ginseng fruit sticking out on one of the branches pointing southward. It certainly had the appearance of an infant with a tail-like peduncle. Look at it dangling from the end of the branch, with limbs moving wildly and head bobbing madly! It seemed to make sounds as it swung in the breeze. Filled with admiration and delight, Pilgrim said to himself, “What a marvelous thing! It’s rarely seen! It’s rarely seen!” With a swish, he vaulted up the tree.

  The monkey, you see, was an expert in climbing trees and stealing fruits. He took the gold mallet and struck lightly at the fruit, which dropped at once from the branch. Pilgrim leaped down after it but the fruit was nowhere to be seen. Though he searched for it all over the grass, there was not a trace of it. “Strange! Strange!” said Pilgrim. “I suppose it could walk with its legs, but even so, it could hardly have jumped across the wall. I know! It must be the local spirit of this garden who will not allow me to steal the fruit; he must have taken it.” Making the magic sign and reciting a spell that began with the letter om, he summoned the local spirit of the garden, who came bowing to Pilgrim and said, “Great Sage, what sort of instructions do you have for this humble deity?”

  “Don’t you know,” said Pilgrim, “that old Monkey happens to be the world’s most famous thief? When I stole the immortal peaches, the imperial wine, and the efficacious pills that year, there was no one brave enough to share the spoils with me. How is it, therefore, when I steal just one of their fruits today, that you have the gall to snatch away the prime portion? Since these fruits are formed on a tree, I suppose even the fowls of the air may partake of them. What’s wrong with my eating one of them? How dare you grab it the moment I knock it down?” “Great Sage,” said the local spirit, “you have made a mistake in blaming me. This treasure is something that belongs to an earthbound immortal, whereas I am only a ghost immortal.13 Would I dare take it? I don’t even have the good fortune to smell it!”

  “If you hadn’t snatched it,” said Pilgrim, “why did it disappear the moment it fell?” “You may know only about its power to prolong life, Great Sage,” said the local spirit, “but you don’t know its background.”

  “What do you mean by background?” said Pilgrim. “This treasure,” said the local spirit, “will bloom only once in three thousand years; it will bear fruit after another three thousand years; and the fruit won’t ripen for yet another three thousand years. All in all, one must wait for almost ten thousand years before there are thirty of these fruits. A person lucky enough to smell it once will live for three hundred and sixty years; if he eats one, he will live for forty-seven thousand years. However, the fruit is resistant to the Five Phases.” “What do you mean by resistant to the Five Phases?” asked Pilgrim. The local spirit replied, “This fruit will fall when it encounters gold; it will wither when it encounters wood; it will melt when it encounters water; it will dry up if it encounters fire; and it will be assimilated if it encounters earth. That is why one has to use an instrument of gold to knock it down, but when it falls, it has to be held by a tray cushioned with silk handkerchiefs. The moment it touches wood, it will wither and will not prolong life even if it’s eaten. When it is eaten, it should be held in a porcelain container and should be dissolved with water. Again, fire will dry it up and it will be useless. Finally, what is meant by its assimilation into earth may be illustrated by what happened just now, for when you knocked it down, it at once crawled into the ground. This part of the garden will last for at least forty-seven thousand years. Even a steel pick will not be able to bore through it, for it is three or four times harder than raw iron. That is why a man will live long if he eats one of the fruits. If you don’t believe me, Great Sage, strike at the ground and see for yourself.” Whipping out his golden-hooped rod, Pilgrim gave the ground a terriffic blow. The rod rebounded at once, but there was not the slightest mark on the ground. “Indeed! Indeed!” said Pilgrim. “This rod of mine can turn a boulder into powder; it will leave its mark even on raw iron. How is it that there’s not even a scratch on the ground? Well, in that case, I have made a mistake in blaming you. You may go back.”14 The local spirit thus went back to his own shrine.

  The Great Sage, however, had his own plan: after climbing up on the tree, he held the golden mallet in one hand and, with the other, pulled up the front of his silk shirt to make a little sack. Parting the leaves and branches, he knocked three of the fruits into the sack. He jumped down from the tree and ran straight to the kitchen. “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules smiling, “do you have them?” “Aren’t these the ones?” said Pilgrim. “I reached and took, that’s all! But we shouldn’t let Sha Monk pass up the chance of tasting this fruit. You call him.” Eight Rules
waved his hands and cried, “Wujing, come!” Setting down the luggage, Sha Monk ran into the kitchen and said, “Elder Brother, why did you call me?” Opening the sack, Pilgrim said, “Brother, take a look. What are these?” When Sha Monk saw them, he said, “Ginseng fruits.” “Fine!” said Pilgrim. “So, you recognize them! Where did you taste them before?” “I have never tasted the fruit before,” said Sha Monk. “But when I was the Curtain-Raising Captain, I waited on the Throne to attend the Festival of Immortal Peaches, and I once saw many immortals from beyond the sea presenting this fruit to the Lady Queen Mother as a birthday gift. So I have seen it, but I have never tasted it. Elder Brother, will you let me try a little?” “No need to say anymore,” said Pilgrim. “There’s one for each of us brothers.”

  The three of them took the fruits and began to enjoy them. That Eight Rules, of course, had a huge appetite and a huge mouth. When he heard the conversation of the young lads earlier, he already felt ravenous. The moment he saw the fruit, therefore, he grabbed it and, with one gulp, swallowed it whole. Then he rolled up his eyes and said in a roguish manner to Pilgrim and Sha Monk, “What are you two eating?” “Ginseng fruit,” said Sha Monk. “How does it taste?” asked Eight Rules. “Wujing,” said Pilgrim, “don’t listen to him. He ate it first. Why all these questions now?” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “I ate it somewhat too hurriedly, not as the two of you are doing, mincing and munching little by little to discover its taste. I swallowed it without even knowing whether it had a pit or not! Elder Brother, if you are helping someone, help him to the end. You have roused the worms in my stomach! Please fetch me another fruit so that I can take time to enjoy it.” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “you really don’t know when to stop! This thing here is not like rice or noodles, food to stuff yourself with. There are only thirty such fruits in ten thousand years! It’s our great fortune to have eaten one already, and you should not regard this lightly. Stop now! It’s enough.” He stretched himself and threw the gold mallet into the adjacent room through a little hole on the window paper without saying anything more to Eight Rules.