Chapter 30

The Wicked Demon Invades the True Law; the Horse of the Mind Remembers the Ape of the Heart

Now the demon, having trussed Sha Monk, neither killed him, nor beat him, nor gave him one word of abuse. Knife in hand, he thought to himself: "The Tang monk is a man of the upper kingdom and must know courtesy and honor. Surely — having spared his life — his disciples would not try to seize me? Ah! It must be my wife sent some letter to that kingdom of hers, and the news has leaked. Let me go question her." The demon's cruelty surged up, and he meant to kill the princess.

The princess, knowing nothing of it, had just finished dressing and came stepping in. She found the demon with furious eyes and knitted brows, teeth grinding. Still she met him with a smiling face. "My lord, what troubles you so?" The demon snapped out his curse: "You dog-hearted, worthless woman, void of all human feeling! When I brought you here I never said one word against you. Silks to wear, gold to adorn you; whatever was lacking, I went and found it. Enjoyment through the four seasons; deep affection every day. And you think only of your father and mother, without one ounce of heart for your husband?" The princess, hearing this, fell to her knees in terror. "My lord, why do you speak today of parting?" "It is not I who part — it is you," said the demon. "I took that Tang monk, meaning to make a meal of him; why did you not tell me first, and let him go? So you wrote a letter in secret and had him carry it for you — how else would those two monks come back to beat at my gate and demand you be sent home? Was that not your doing?" "My lord, you wrong me. When did I ever send any letter?" "Still brazening it out! We have one of the enemy in hand this moment — is that not proof?" "Who?" said the princess. "Sha Monk, the Tang monk's second disciple," said the old demon. For who, come to the death-point, will own to death? She could only brazen it out. "Calm your anger, my lord, and let us go question him. If there was a letter, then strike me dead — I will bear it gladly. But if there was no letter, would you not be killing your poor girl for nothing?"

The demon, hearing this, brooked no reply: he swung out one indigo hand big as a winnowing fan, seized ten thousand strands of that golden-branch, jade-leaf hair, hauled the princess forward, and dashed her to the ground. Steel knife in hand he turned to interrogate Sha Monk, with a bark: "Sha Monk, you two dared beat at my gate unbidden — did this woman send a letter to her kingdom, and the king send you?" Sha Monk, bound where he was, saw how savage the demon was — the princess dashed to the ground, the knife raised to kill — and thought to himself: "Plainly she sent the letter and saved my master. That is a kindness past all measure. If I speak out at a word, he kills the princess — and is that not repaying kindness with enmity? Enough, enough, enough. Old Sha has followed my master all this while with never an inch of merit to repay him. Bound as I am today, let me spend this life to repay the master's debt." So he called out: "Monster, no insolence! What letter did she ever send, that you slander her so and would take her life? We came demanding the princess for a reason. You took my master into your cave, and my master saw the princess — her face and her manner. On coming to the Baoxiang Kingdom to have our travel papers exchanged, the emperor had the princess's likeness drawn and searched for her everywhere; he asked my master whether he had seen her like along the road, and my master spoke of the princess. So he knew her for his own child, bestowed on us the royal wine, and sent us to take you and bring his princess back to the palace. This is the truth of it; there was never any letter. Kill old Sha if you will — but do not wrong an innocent and sin mightily against heaven's reason."

The demon, hearing Sha Monk speak so boldly, dropped the knife and gathered the princess up in both arms. "It was my own rudeness in the moment; I gave you great offense. Forgive me, forgive me." He gathered up her dark tresses and set the jeweled chignon right, tender and gentle, with pleasing face and soothing words coaxing her inside; then begged her to the seat of honor and made his amends. The princess, being of woman's water-nature, seeing him so humbly courteous, turned her heart about. "My lord, if you have any thought of the love between husband and wife, have the ropes on Sha Monk loosened a little." The old demon heard and ordered the little demons to take the ropes off Sha Monk and lock him up instead. Sha Monk, unbound but locked, stood up, secretly delighted. "The ancients say: be obliging to others, and others are obliging to you. Had I not obliged him, would he ever have had me loosened and eased?"

The old demon then ordered a banquet spread, to make his peace with the princess and calm her fright. When the wine was half-way to their heads the old demon suddenly changed into bright fresh clothes, took a precious knife and girded it at his waist, and turning, touched the princess. "Wife, stay home and drink, and watch the two children; do not let Sha Monk go. While that Tang monk is still at the court, I will hurry off early and pay my respects to my kin." "What kin would you pay respects to?" "Your royal father. I am his son-in-law, he is my father-in-law — why should I not call?" "You must not go." "Why must I not?" "My royal father won his throne by no horseback struggles and hard-fought battles: it is the ancestral state left him by his forebears. A crown prince from childhood, he has never ridden beyond the city gates, and has never seen such a fierce fellow as you. That face and figure of yours, so ugly as they are — if he saw you, I fear it would frighten him, and that were worse than useless. Better not to go and pay the call at all." "Since you say so, I will change into a handsome fellow and go." "Change, then, and let me see."

Brave monster! There at the banquet he shook himself and changed into a handsome man. Truly he was like this:

A bearing refined and elegant; a figure tall and commanding.His speech the manner of a courtier; his years just at their flower.A talent like Zijian's, verse come easy; a face like Pan An's, fruit tossed lightly at his passing.On his head a magpie-tail cap, dark clouds gathered meek; on his body a pleated gown of gauze-jade, wide sleeves floating to meet him.On his feet black boots patterned in folds; at his waist a luan-bird sash gleaming.A spirit truly a wonder among men: towering over the valleys, grand and fine, a hero beautiful and bright.

The princess was delighted. "Wife, is the change not well done?" laughed the demon. "Well done, well done. Once you are in at the court, my royal father, kin being kin, will be certain to have the civil and military keep you to feast. But over the wine, a thousand times careful, ten thousand times wary: do not show your old face, give the game away, let the news slip — or all breeding is lost." "No need for instructions," said the old demon. "I have my methods."

See him mount the cloud, and soon he was at the Baoxiang Kingdom. Pressing down the cloud he came outside the palace gate and told the gate usher: "The third son-in-law has come for an audience. I beg you announce it." The yellow-gate officer came to the white jade steps and announced: "Your Majesty, the third son-in-law begs audience and waits without the palace gate for the summons." The king was talking with the Tang monk when he heard "third son-in-law," and asked the officials: "I have but two sons-in-law. How comes there a third?" "This third son-in-law must be a demon," said the officials. "Would it do to summon him in?" The elder's heart quaked. "Your Majesty, a demon! What is not a spirit has no powers. He can know past and future, ride the clouds and tread the mist. Summon him or not, in he comes — better to summon him and spare ourselves the argument."

The king granted it, ordered him summoned, and the demon was called to the golden steps, where he made his obeisance with all the dances and the shout of homage like anyone. The officials, seeing him so handsome, dared not take him for a demon: mortal flesh with mortal eyes, they took him for a worthy man. The king, seeing him tower like a ridge and lift to the heavens, took him for a pillar of the state, and asked: "Son-in-law, where is your home? Of what place are you? When were you matched with my princess? Why come to claim kinship only today?" The old demon knocked his head. "Sire, your servant's home is Wave-Moon Cave on Bowl Mountain, east of the city." "How far is that mountain from here?" "Not far — three hundred li only." "Three hundred li! How could my princess have come there, to be matched with you?" The demon, with artful words and flowery speech, answered in feigned sincerity: "Sire, from childhood your servant loved the bow and horse and lived by hunting. Thirteen years ago I led a few dozen household lads out with hawks and hounds, and suddenly saw a fierce tiger of mottled coat carrying a woman on its back, going down the hillside. Your servant drew his bow and shot the tiger down, brought the woman to our farm, and revived her with warm water and warm broth, and saved her life. I asked her family and place, and never once did she speak the word princess. Had she said from the first she was Your Majesty's third princess, how should I have dared so presumptuous a heart, to match with her on my own will? I would have carried her up to the golden hall and begged some post, great or small, to honor her. She said only she was a common family's daughter, and so your servant kept her at the farm. Her beauty, my talent — both willing: so we were matched, and have lived together these many years. After we were matched I meant to slaughter that tiger and invite all our kin; but her Highness the princess bade me not kill it yet. And why it was not killed — she had a few words on it, finely put, saying:

By heaven's trust and earth's we became man and wife; without matchmaker or witness was our marriage made.In a former life the red thread tied our feet; today the tiger stands our go-between.

For that saying I loosed the tiger's bonds and spared its life; and the tiger, arrow-wound and all, galloped off with lashing tail. Who knew that having kept its life, it cultivated in that mountain all these years, refined its body to a spirit, and set itself to beguile and destroy men. Your servant has heard that in years past there were several who went to fetch scriptures, all said to be one Tang monk from the Tang. This tiger must have destroyed the Tang monk, got his travel papers, and taken the scripture-seeker's shape, and now deceives Your Majesty at court. Your Majesty — the one sitting on the embroidered cushion is the very fierce tiger that carried the princess thirteen years ago, no true scripture-seeker at all."

See the water-natured sovereign, dull and beguiled, his mortal eyes unable to know a demon, taking the demon's empty words for gospel truth. "Worthy son-in-law, how do you know this monk for the tiger that carried the princess?" "Sire," said the demon, "in the mountains your servant ate tiger and wore tiger, slept beside them and rose beside them — how should I not know one?" "Since you know them, make him show his true form, and let us see." "Lend me half a cup of clean water, and your servant will make him show himself." The king ordered an official to bring water and hand it to the son-in-law.

The demon took the water, rose up, stepped forward, played his art of the black eye fixing the body, murmured the spell, and sprayed the mouthful of water at the Tang monk, crying "Change!" The elder's true body, hidden there in the hall, truly turned into a fierce tiger of mottled coat. King and ministers, with mortal eyes, looked on. The tiger was like this:

A white-blazed brow, a round head; a mottled body, eyes like lightning.Four hoofs thrust straight and mighty; twenty claws hooked, curved, and keen.Saw-teeth closing round the mouth; sharp ears joined to the brows.Fierce and strong as a great cat's frame; savage and bold as a yellow calf.Stiff whiskers straight as bars of silver; the barbed tongue panting red, spitting out its malice.A mottled tiger fierce indeed: wave upon wave of dread wind blowing through the jeweled hall.

The king, one look, and soul and spirit scattered. The officials scattered, every one. A few bold generals, leading commanders and captains, swarmed up and hacked at it with every kind of weapon. Had the Tang monk not been fated to live, twenty monks would have been beaten to a pulp of meat. By fortune the Ding-Jia gods, the revealers, the duty officers, and the guardian gods of the teaching stood hidden in mid-air shielding him, so that no weapon of theirs could wound. The ministers shouted and struggled till nightfall before they took the tiger alive, locked it in iron chains, and shut it in an iron cage in one of the court buildings.

The king then decreed that the Court of Imperial Entertainments lay a great feast, to thank the son-in-law for his deliverance — else they had all been ruined by that monk. That evening, the court dismissed, the demon went into the Silver Peace Hall. He chose eighteen palace maids and courtesans to play pipes and strings, to sing and dance, and press the demon to wine and pleasure. The monster sat alone at the head, rank upon rank of lovely faces and graceful forms about him. See him take his pleasure over the wine until the second watch, the drink climbing into his head, till he could not contain his wickedness: he sprang up, gave a great shout of laughter, showed his true form, his cruel heart blazing out, spread his winnowing-fan hand, snatched up the girl who played the lute — and bit into her head with a crunch. The seventeen remaining maids, terrified out of their lives, ran and hid helter-skelter. And it was like this:

The palace maids in dread; the painted girls in wild alarm.The maids in dread, like lotus blossoms beaten and wrapped in night rain; the painted girls in alarm, like peonies whirled dancing on the spring wind.They crushed lutes to bits, minding only their lives; fell bruising zithers, fleeing for their breath.Out the gates, no north or south; from the hall, no east or west.Jade faces knocked and bruised; lovely looks dashed and broken.Every one running for her life, each rushing for her bare survival.

Those who got out dared not cry out; the night being deep, they dared not disturb the emperor. All hid below the low walls and eaves, trembling — but of this, no more.

Now the monster sat at the head, pouring and drinking by himself: one cup down, then hauling over his victim to gnaw two bloody mouthfuls. While he feasted within, outside the word ran everywhere: "The Tang monk is a tiger spirit." Passed and shouted from mouth to mouth, it reached the Gold Pavilion post station. The station was empty now: only the white horse at the trough, eating hay and grain. He had been the little Dragon King of the Western Sea; for a crime against heaven's law his horns were sawed and his scales drawn off, and he was turned a white horse to bear the Tang monk west for the scriptures. Hearing men say the Tang monk was a tiger spirit, he thought to himself: "My master is plainly a good man: some monster must have changed him into a tiger spirit and worked him ruin. What can be done? What can be done? Eldest brother has been gone so long, and no word of Bajie or Sha Monk." He bore it till the second watch, then leaped up: "If I do not save the Tang monk now, the true fruit is finished — finished!" He could not bear it: he snapped the reins, shook loose the saddle and bridle, sprang up in haste, transformed at once — and became the dragon again. Mounting a black cloud he rose straight into the ninth heaven and looked down. There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:

Tripitaka came west to worship the World-Honored One, but evil demon-vapor beset the road.Tonight, changed to a tiger, his trouble not yet past — the white horse drops its reins to save its master.

The little Dragon King in mid-air saw the Silver Peace Hall ablaze with lamps and candles. On the eight hall-filling candelabra burned eight great candles. Dropping the cloud to look closely: the demon alone up there, drinking hard and eating men's flesh. The little dragon laughed. "The fellow has given himself away — the trick is seen through now. Is eating men what he calls improvement? And here I have run into this foul monster before learning how my master fares. Let me go play with him a little. If I can manage it, take the demon first — then rescue my master, and none too soon."

Brave Dragon King! He shook himself and changed too into a palace maid, truly light and graceful of body, charming and winning of face. She stepped quickly inside and offered the demon a salute of ten thousand blessings: "My lord son-in-law, do not take my life — I have come to pour your wine." "Pour, then," said the demon. The little dragon took the flask and filled his cup till the wine stood three or five tenths above the brim — and never ran over. This was the little dragon's art of pressing back the water. The demon, seeing and not knowing it, was delighted. "You have such a skill as this?" "I can pour a good deal higher yet," said the little dragon. "Pour more, pour more!" She held up the flask and poured on and on, and the wine mounted and mounted, like a pagoda of thirteen stories, tapering and brimming — and never a drop spilled. The monster thrust out his mouth and drank a cup; then hauled over his dead man and took another bite. "Can you sing?" She: "A little." She sang a little song to the tune and measure, and offered another cup. "Can you dance?" "A little," said the little dragon. "Only bare-handed — it would not be much to look at." The demon gathered up his robes, unslung the precious sword at his waist, drew it from the scabbard, and handed it to the little dragon.

The little dragon took the blade with all her attention, and there before the banquet slashed three up, four down, five left, six right, spinning out her flowery sword-play. The demon watched till his eyes popped. Then the little dragon dropped the flourish and cut straight at the demon. Brave monster! He twisted aside, all fluster, and caught the precious blade on one of the great candelabra. That candelabrum was wrought of hammered iron, eighty or ninety catties with its shaft. The two of them out of the Silver Peace Hall, the little dragon showed her true form, mounted the clouds, and fought the demon in mid-air. It was a fine fight in the dark. How so? Thus:

One a monster bred on Bowl Mountain; the other a true dragon banished from the Western Sea.One streams thin rays of light, like spitting white lightning; one breathes keen battle-air, like bursts of crimson cloud.One like a white-tusked ancient elephant striding the world of men; one like a gold-clawed wildcat flying down from heaven.One the jade pillar holding up the sky; one the golden beam bridging the sea.The silver dragon wheels and dances; the yellow fiend tumbles and turns. Left and right the precious blade never slackens; back and forth without pause swings the great candelabrum.

The two of them fought eight or nine rounds in the clouds; the little dragon's hands went weak and sinews numb, while the old demon's body was strong and his thews mighty. The little dragon could hold no longer: she flung the blade to strike the demon down. But the demon had his catch-the-blade art: one hand caught the precious sword, the other flung down the great candelabrum and struck. The little dragon, unprepared, took the blow on her hind leg. In a flurry of alarm she dropped the cloud, and — the royal water canal saving her life — plunged headfirst under the water. The demon gave chase, found her not, took up his precious sword and the great candelabrum, went back to the Silver Peace Hall, and drank and slept as before — but of this, no more.

Now the little dragon lay hidden under the water; when half a watch had passed without sound or stir, she ground her teeth and, bearing the leg's pain, rose up out of it. Treading the black cloud she turned straight back to the post station, changed again into her horse's form, and lay down in the stall. Pity her: body wet through, a wound upon the leg. At that season:

The horse of mind and ape of heart scattered wide; Metal Lord and Wood Mother withered all.Yellow Dame wounded — all must part; the Way's bond loosened — how shall it be achieved?

To leave the Tang monk meeting his calamity and the little dragon's lost battle: Zhu Bajie, since parting from Sha Monk, had burrowed into the grass and rooted himself a pig's wallow. He slept that sleep clear to midnight before waking. Waking, he did not know where he was. He rubbed his eyes, gathered his wits, and turned an ear to listen. Ah! Just so: deep in the hills no dogs barking; in the wilds few cocks crowing. Seeing the stars shifted and the Dipper turned — about the third watch, he reckoned — he thought: "If I go back to save Sha Monk, truly it is single thread makes no cord, one palm claps no sound. Enough, enough, enough. Let me go into the city, see my master, get the emperor's sanction, and pick some valiant troops to help old Pig come save Sha Monk tomorrow."

The Idiot leaped to the cloud and hurried back to the city, reaching the post station in a trice. All was still, the moon bright. He looked along the two corridors and found no master — only the white horse asleep in its stall, body wet through, a bruise the size of a plate on the hind leg. Bajie started. "Double bad luck! The creature has not been walking — why is it sweated all over, with a bruise on its leg? Some villain must have robbed the master and beaten the horse." The white horse knew Bajie, and suddenly spoke with a human mouth: "Brother." The Idiot fell down in his fright, scrambled up, and made for the door. But the white horse stretched out its head and caught his black gown in its teeth. "Brother, do not fear me." Bajie, trembling: "Brother, how do you come speaking today? When you speak, some great misfortune must be at hand.""Do you know the master is in peril?" said the little dragon. "I do not," said Bajie. "You do not, then. You and Sha Monk showed your tricks before the emperor, meaning to take the demon and claim merit and reward. But the demon's powers were too great, your arts too small, and you could not hold him. The proper thing was to send one back with word — yet no word has come at all. The demon changed into a handsome scholar, walked into the court, and claimed kinship with the emperor. He changed my master into a fierce mottled tiger; the ministers seized him, and he is locked in an iron cage in the court buildings. Hearing of this anguish, my heart was cut as with knives. You two have been away two days and know nothing; fearing his life might be lost at any moment, I could only take dragon form and go to the rescue. But at the court I could not find my master. Outside the Silver Peace Hall I met the demon, changed into a palace maid, and beguiled the monster. He bade me wield the sword for his pleasure; so I bided my time and cut at him. He dodged it, raised a great candelabrum in both hands, and beat me. I flung the blade at him again; he caught it in his hand, swung down the candelabrum, and struck my hind leg. So I plunged into the royal canal and saved my life. The bruise on my leg is his candelabrum's work."

"Can such a thing truly be?" said Bajie. "Would I deceive you?" said the little dragon. "What can be done? What can be done? Can you manage to move?" "Suppose I can — what then?" "If you can move, move yourself back into the sea. Leave the luggage: old Pig will shoulder it to Gao Village and go back to the old trade of son-in-law." The little dragon, hearing this, caught his gown in her teeth and would not let go, the tears dropping from her eyes: "Brother, do not, do not give way to laziness." "And if I am not lazy, what then? Brother Sha is taken already, and I cannot beat the demon. If not to scatter now, what am I waiting for?"

The little dragon brooded a long half moment, and again through tears: "Brother, speak no more of scattering. If the master is to be saved, go invite someone." "Whom would you have me invite?" "Ride the cloud back to Flower-Fruit Mountain this instant, and ask eldest brother Pilgrim Sun to come. He still has the great power to subdue demons: he will certainly save our master, and win us vengeance for this defeat as well." "Brother, invite someone else. That monkey and I are not on the best of terms. Up on White Tiger Ridge, when he beat Lady White Bone to death, he blamed me for egging the master on to chant the Tight-Fillet Spell. I only meant it in sport, but the old monk took it up in earnest, chanted, and banished him home. He must be in a fine rage with me; he will never agree to come. And if our words clash even a little, that mourning staff of his is heavy — if he takes it into his head to lay on a few blows, how should I live through it?" "He will not strike you," said the little dragon. "He is a monkey king with honor and feeling. When you see him, do not say the master is in peril; only say, 'The master misses you,' and coax him to come. Once here, seeing how matters stand, he is certain to take fire and match himself against that demon: he will take the demon, depend on it, and save my master." "Very well, very well. You show such devotion — if I did not go, my own lack would show. If I go and Pilgrim truly will come, I will come back with him. If he will not come, do not look for me: I am not coming back." "Go, go," said the little dragon. "He will come, depend on it."

So the Idiot truly took up his rake, straightened his gown, leaped up, and rode the cloud straight east. This time, too, the Tang monk's fate held. The Idiot met a following wind, spread his two ears wide like sails, crossed the Eastern Ocean in no time, and pressed down the cloud. Before he knew it the sun was up, and he entered the mountains looking for the way.

As he went he heard voices. Bajie looked carefully: there was Pilgrim in a mountain hollow, gathered with his horde of demons. He sat on a rocky crag, and before him stood more than twelve hundred monkeys, ranked in their orders, crying: "Ten thousand years, grandfather Great Sage!" "Fine living, fine living!" said Bajie to himself. "No wonder he would not be a monk and only wanted to come home. All these comforts, an estate so vast, and all these little monkeys to wait on him. If old Pig had such a mountain, he would be no monk either. But now that I am here, what to do? I must face him, that is certain." The Idiot feared him somewhat and dared not face him openly: he sidled and slunk along the grassy crag edge, slipped in among those twelve or thirteen hundred monkeys, squeezed in with them, and knocked his head along with the rest.

But the Great Sage Sun sat high, and his eye was sharp and quick: he saw him plain. "Who is this stranger bowing out of place in the ranks? Where from? Bring him up." Before the words were done the little monkeys, a swarm of bees, shoved Bajie forward and pressed him to the ground. "What outland creature are you, and from where?" Bajie hung his head. "None such, thanks for asking. No stranger — an old friend, an old friend." "The monkeys under the Great Sage are all of one pattern. That face of yours is a queer make, your looks lumpy and daubed — some demon from elsewhere, certain. From elsewhere, is it? Then to enlist under me, first present your credentials in writing and report your name, and I may keep you in the ranks at review. If I do not keep you — how dare you go bowing about here?" Bajie hung his head and pushed out his snout. "Shameless! To put on these airs. Brothers we have been these several years, and you pretend not to know me — calling me some outland creature." Pilgrim laughed. "Raise your head, and let me look." The Idiot thrust his snout upward. "Look, then. If you cannot know me, you can at least know the snout." Pilgrim could not hold back, and laughed: "Zhu Bajie!" At the name he turned a somersault upright. "Right, right — I am Zhu Bajie!" And he thought: "Known — now the talk can go somewhere."

"Not following the Tang monk to fetch scriptures — what brings you here? You must have offended the master, and he has banished you home too. Where is your letter of banishment? Let me see it." "I never offended him; there is no letter; he never sent me away." "No letter, never banished — what are you doing here then?" "The master misses you, and sent me to invite you." "He invites me not, nor misses me. That day he swore to heaven and wrote the banishment with his own hand: how would he miss me now, or send you far to fetch me? Decidedly it would not do for me to go." Bajie told his lie on the spot, and quickly: "He truly misses you, truly misses you." "And how does he miss me?" "The master, riding along, called 'Disciples'; I did not hear, and Sha Monk pleaded deafness. Then the master thought of you, saying we were no good, saying you were still the clever one, quick of wit, answering every call, ten words for every question. Missing you so, he sent me expressly to invite you. I beg you a thousand times to come: first, not to desert his hoping heart; second, not to waste my long journey." Hearing this Pilgrim leaped down from the crag and took Bajie's arm. "Worthy brother, you have come so far. Come along and sport with me a while." "Brother, the road is long, and the master waits; I am in no mood for sport." "Since you are here anyway, come see how my mountain looks." The Idiot dared not refuse outright, and went along for the walk.

Hand in hand the two climbed, all the little demons following, up to the very summit of Flower-Fruit Mountain. A fine mountain — since the Great Sage came home these few days he had set it to rights, old made new again. And it was like this:

Green as carved kingfisher jade; high as brushing the clouds.Round about, tigers crouching, dragons coiled; on every side, gibbons crying, cranes calling.At dawn, clouds seal the mountaintop; at dusk the sun hangs in the wood.The running water purls like chiming pendants of jade; the ravine springs drip out their jade-zither tune.Before the mountain, crags and sheer cliffs; behind it, flowers and trees in thick luxuriance.Above, it joins the Jade Maiden's hair-washing basin; below, it meets the waters the River of Heaven parcels out.Heaven and earth have wrought a beauty to match Penglai; the clear and the turbid have nurtured a true grotto-abode.The painter's cunning brush would fail to draw it; the fairies' heavenly craft could not trace it out.Wrought-fine the strange rocks, the rocks wrought fine; wrought fine, wreathed in color, the peak at the ridge-head.The sunlight stirs: a thousand rays of purple splendor; the auspicious vapor sways: ten thousand streamers of rose-red cloud.Grotto heavens and blessed lands there are in the world of men — and over all the mountain, new trees and new flowers.

Bajie could not see it all, and his heart filled with joy. "Brother, what a place — truly the first mountain under heaven!" "Worthy brother, could a man live his days here?" Bajie laughed. "Hear the brother talk! This precious mountain is a grotto heaven, a blessed land — what talk of merely getting by?"

The two talked and laughed a long while, then came down the mountain. By the roadside several little monkeys knelt, bearing purple-dark grapes, fragrant pears and jujubes, golden loquats, scarlet waxberries, calling: "Grandfather Great Sage, morning meal is served!" Pilgrim laughed. "My brother Pig has a great belly, and fruit is not his idea of a meal. Still, well and good — think nothing of the poor fare; take a little by way of relish." "Great my belly may be," said Bajie, "but in the country of grapes, eat grapes, I say. Bring them, bring them — I will try a few for novelty."

The two ate the fruit while the sun climbed. The Idiot, fearing to delay the rescue of the Tang monk, kept urging: "Brother, the master is watching and waiting for you and me there. Come away early with me, do." "Worthy brother, come into the Water Curtain Cave and sport a while." Bajie refused firmly. "Deeply obliged for the kindness, brother — but the master waits long; let us not trouble to go into the cave." "Since it is so, I will not keep you. Here, then, we part." "Brother — you are not coming?" "Where would I go? Here neither heaven claims me nor earth meddles with me — free and easy. Why should I play at being a monk? I am not going. Go yourself. And give the Tang monk this word: having driven me off, let him not think of me again." The Idiot, hearing this, dared not press him hard, fearing to touch off his temper and take a couple of blows of the staff. Helpless, he could only bow and bow and take his leave, and set off to find his road.

Pilgrim, seeing him off, dispatched two nimble little monkeys to follow Bajie and hear what he said. And truly the Idiot, down the mountain not three or four li, turned and pointed back at Pilgrim, cursing: "This monkey — no monk, but a demon outright! This macaque — I come in all good faith to invite him, and he will not come. Well, stay then!" A few steps on, a few curses more. The two little monkeys ran straight back to report: "Grandfather Great Sage, that Zhu Bajie is not honest: walk a little, curse a little!" Pilgrim flew into a great rage. "Seize him and bring him here!" The monkeys came flying over the ground, caught up with him, bore Bajie down head over heels, seizing his mane, pulling his ears, hauling his tail, plucking his bristles, and carried him back.

But how he would be dealt with, and whether life or death would find him — listen to the next chapter to find out.

The Evil Demon Overwhelms the True Law; the Will Horse Remembers the Mind Ape

Now the monster had Sha Monk bound, but he did not kill him, did not beat him, and did not speak one word of abuse. He took up his steel knife, and thought to himself: "The Tang monk is a man of a great kingdom and must know propriety. Surely it cannot be that after I spared his life, his disciples would dare come take me? Ah! Most likely my wife has sent some letter to her own country, and the secret has leaked. Let me go and question her about it." The monster's cruel nature rose up all at once: he meant to kill the princess.

The princess knew nothing of this. She had just finished dressing and was moving forward, when she saw the monster with angry eyes and knit brows, grinding his teeth. The princess still came to meet him smiling: "My lord, what troubles you so?" The monster burst out with an oath: "You dog-hearted, cheap woman, without one spark of human duty! When I brought you here I never heard half a word of complaint from you. You wear brocade and gold, and if anything was lacking I went and found it. Every season you were provided for, and every day I loved you deep. Why do you think only of your father and mother, without one shred of a wife's heart?" When the princess heard this she fell to the ground in terror: "My lord, why do you speak today of parting?" The monster said: "Who says I part from you? It is you who part from me. I took the Tang monk, meaning to make a meal of him—and why did you let him go without telling me first? So it was you who wrote a letter in secret and had him carry it for you. Otherwise, why would those two monks come back beating on my gate, demanding that you be returned? Was this not your doing?" The princess said: "My lord, you wrong me. When did I ever send any letter?" The old monster said: "Still you argue! I have caught one of the very men here—is he not proof enough?" The princess said: "Who?" The old demon said: "Sha Monk, the Tang monk's second disciple." Now when people come to the point of death, who will own to dying? She could only brazen it out. The princess said: "My lord, calm your anger. Let us go ask him. If there truly was a letter, then beat me to death, and I am content. But if there was no letter, would you not be killing me for nothing?"

The monster would not hear a word. He spread out his great indigo hand, big as a winnowing basket, seized the ten thousand hairs of that golden-branch, jade-leaf head, dragged the princess forward, and dashed her on the ground. Then, steel knife in hand, he came to interrogate Sha Monk, snapping: "Sha Monk, you two dared beat down my gate. Did this woman send a letter to her country, and the king send you?" Sha Monk, bound where he was, saw how savage the demon was, the princess flung on the ground and the knife raised to kill her, and thought to himself: "Plainly she did send the letter, and so saved my master—that is a kindness past all measure. If I speak out, he will kill the princess. Would that not be repaying kindness with hate? Enough, enough, enough. Old Sha has followed my master all this way with not an inch of service to show for it. Today I am bound already; let me spend this life of mine to repay the master." So he shouted: "Demon, none of your rudeness! What letter are you talking about, to slander her so and take her life? We came here demanding the princess, and there is a reason. You took my master and held him in your cave, and my master saw the princess and marked her looks and ways. When we reached the Kingdom of the Treasure Elephant to have our papers countersigned, the Emperor had the princess's likeness drawn and had inquiries made everywhere. He asked my master, showing the picture, whether he had seen her on the road, and my master told him of the princess. So the king knew it was his own child, gave us wine from his own hand, and sent us to take you and bring the princess home to the palace. This is the truth of it. Where was there ever any letter? Kill this old Sha if you will, but do not wrong an innocent person. It would be a great offense against heaven's justice."

When the demon saw how boldly Sha Monk spoke, he dropped the knife, took the princess up in both arms, and said: "It was my own roughness just now, and I offended you. Do not be angry, do not be angry." He smoothed her black hair, set her jeweled chignon right, and with soft words and a smiling face he coaxed her inside, seated her above him, and made his apology. The princess was a woman, with a woman's water-nature. Seeing his extravagant courtesy, she turned her heart around and said: "My lord, if you remember our love as man and wife, have the ropes on Sha Monk loosened a little." The old demon heard and at once ordered the little ones to untie Sha Monk's ropes and lock him up instead. Sha Monk, freed of the cords and chained in their place, stood up and rejoiced in his heart: "The ancients said, 'Be obliging to others, and others will be obliging to you.' If I had not been obliging to him, would he ever have let them loosen my ropes?"

The old demon then ordered a feast laid, to apologize to the princess and calm her fright. They were drinking, and the wine was warming him, when the old demon suddenly changed into fresh bright clothes, took a precious knife, hung it at his waist, and turned around, touching the princess: "Wife, stay home and drink, and watch our two children, and do not let Sha Monk go. While the Tang monk is there in that kingdom, I will hurry over early and pay my respects to the family too." The princess said: "Whose family would you visit?" The old demon said: "Your royal father. I am his son-in-law, and he is my father-in-law. Why should I not pay my respects?" The princess said: "You must not go." The old demon said: "Why must I not?" The princess said: "My royal father did not win his kingdom by horse and battle; it is an estate handed down by his ancestors. He came to the throne as a child, and he has never traveled far outside the city gates. He has never seen such a savage fellow as you. That face and figure of yours, so ugly to look at—if he saw you, I fear it would frighten him, and that would be a fine business. It would be better not to go and pay respects at all." The old demon said: "If that is how it is, I will change into a handsome man and go." The princess said: "Try changing, and let me see."

Good monster! There between the feast cups he shook himself and changed into a handsome man. Truly he looked like this:

A refined and graceful bearing; a figure tall and striking.His speech full of the official air; his years just at their best.A talent like Zijian's for turning verses easily; a face like Pan An's, that made the girls throw fruit.On his head a magpie-tail cap, the black clouds of hair gathered under it; on his body a jacket of jade gauze, wide sleeves floating out.On his feet black boots with folded flowers; at his waist a phoenix sash all shining.His air was truly a rare man's, tall as a peak over the valley, a fine and handsome hero.

The princess saw him and was delighted. The demon laughed and said: "Wife, is the change well made?" The princess said: "Well made, well made. When you enter the court, my royal father is your kin by marriage and cannot disown you. He will be sure to have the civil and military officers keep you to a feast. In the middle of the drinking, be careful a thousand times over, careful ten thousand times. Do not let your own face show, or your hoof will be out of the bag and the secret will be gone, and there will be no more gentleman about it." The old demon said: "No need for instructions. I have my own plan."

Look at him: he jumped on his cloud and soon reached the Kingdom of the Treasure Elephant. He brought his cloud down, came to the gate of the palace, and said to the gate official: "The third son-in-law has come for an audience. Report me, I beg you." The yellow-gate official went to the white jade steps and reported: "Your Majesty, the third son-in-law is here for an audience, waiting outside the palace gate for your summons." The king was talking with the Tang monk, and at the words "third son-in-law" he asked the officers: "I have only two sons-in-law. How is there a third?" The officers said: "The third son-in-law must be a demon." The king said: "Shall I have him summoned in?" The elder said, with a chill: "Your Majesty, as for demons—it is the spiritless that have no power. This one can know past and future, and can ride the clouds and mist. Summon him or not, he comes in either way. Better to summon him in, and save the breath."

The king approved, and gave the order; the demon was brought up to the golden steps, and he too made his bows and acclamations. The officers, seeing how handsome he was, dared not take him for a demon. They were all mortal eyes and mortal flesh, and they took him for a good man. The king, seeing him standing tall as a peak over the valley, took him for a pillar to prop up the age, and asked him: "Son-in-law, where is your home? Of what country are you? When did you marry my princess? Why do you come to claim kinship only today?" The old demon knocked his head and said: "My lord, my house is the Wavy Moon Cave on Bowl Mountain, east of the city." The king said: "How far is that mountain from here?" The old demon said: "Not far. Only three hundred li." The king said: "Three hundred li—how did my princess come to be there and matched with you?" The demon, with clever words and fair speeches, answered with a fiction: "My lord, from childhood I loved the bow and horse and lived by hunting. Thirteen years ago I led several tens of household servants out with hawk and hound, when suddenly I saw a fierce tiger, striped and blazing, with a girl on its back, walking down the hillside. I bent my bow and shot the tiger down, carried the girl back to my farm, and revived her with warm water and warm broth, and saved her life. I asked what family she was of, and she never spoke the word 'princess.' Had she said at once she was Your Majesty's third princess, how could I have been so presumptuous as to take her to wife? I should have carried her up to the golden hall and begged some office, great or small, to do her honor. Only because she said she was a commoner's daughter did I keep her at my farm. Her beauty and my talent, and both of us willing: so we have been matched these many years. When we were first married I meant to kill that tiger and invite all our kin—but the princess told me not to. And for sparing it she gave reasons, in words well said. She said:

By the favor of heaven and earth we became husband and wife; no matchmaker, no witness, and yet we were matched.In a former life the red thread was tied about our feet; so today the tiger must stand as our go-between.

For that saying I untied the tiger's cords and spared its life. Wounded by the arrow, it ran off, hooves flying and tail clapped down. Who could know it kept its life in those mountains, cultivated itself these years, refined its body into a spirit, and gave itself wholly to bewitching and destroying men? I have heard that in years past several parties set out to fetch the scriptures, all calling themselves the Tang monk from the Tang. I think that tiger must have destroyed the Tang monk, taken his traveling papers, and changed into the shape of a scripture-seeker, and now it sits in your court and deceives you, my lord. My lord, the one sitting on that embroidered cushion is the very tiger that carried off the princess thirteen years ago. It is no true seeker of scriptures at all."

Look at that king of water-nature, dull and blindly trusting, who could not tell a demon, but took the monster's pack of lies for gospel truth. He said: "Worthy son-in-law, how do you know this monk is the tiger that carried the princess?" The demon said: "My lord, in those mountains I ate tigers and clothed myself in tigers, slept beside them and rose beside them. How should I not know one?" The king said: "If you know him, make him show his true form for us to see." The monster said: "Lend me half a cup of clean water, and I will make him show his true shape." The king ordered an officer to fetch water and hand it to the son-in-law.

The monster took the water in his hands, rose up, stepped forward, used his art of "the black eye that fixes the body," said a spell, sprayed the mouthful of water at the Tang monk, and called: "Change!" The elder's true body, hidden there in the hall, truly turned into a fierce striped tiger. As king and ministers watched with their mortal eyes, this is how the tiger looked:

A white brow and a round head; a patterned body, eyes like lightning.Four hooves straight and imposing; twenty claws hooked and keen.Saw teeth filled its mouth; pointed ears joined its brows.Fierce and strong as a great cat; savage and bold as a yellow calf.Stiff whiskers stuck out straight like silver rods; its barbed tongue breathed a foul, hot stench.Truly a fierce and blazing beast: wave after wave of its terror swept the precious hall.

At the sight, the king's soul scattered and his spirit flew. The officers fled, every one. A few bold generals, with commanders and officers of the guard at their back, charged in a body and hacked at it with every kind of weapon. If the Tang monk's fate had not held him from death that hour, twenty monks could have been beaten to pulp there. As it was, the gods of the hour—Dings and Jias, guardians, duty gods, and the guardian deities of the church—stood hidden in midair keeping watch, and so no weapon of theirs could wound him. The ministers clamored until dark, and then they took the tiger alive, locked it with iron chains, and put it in an iron cage in one of the court offices.

The king then gave orders to the Court of Imperial Entertainments to spread a great feast, to thank the son-in-law for his deliverance—otherwise that monk had nearly been the end of them. That evening, when the court had dispersed, the demon went into the Hall of Silver Peace. Eighteen palace girls and painted maids were chosen to play, sing, and dance, and urge the demon to drink and make merry. The monster sat alone at the head, with beauty upon beauty ranged at his left and right. See him taking his pleasure over the wine, until at the second watch the drink mounted, and he could not hold himself from outrages. He leaped up, gave a great laugh, showed his true form, let his cruel heart loose, spread his great hand like a winnowing basket, grabbed the girl who was playing the pipa, and crunched his teeth into her head. The other seventeen palace girls, terrified out of their wits, ran this way and that for their lives and hid. Look at them:

The palace girls were terror-struck; the painted maids rushed and panicked.The palace girls terror-struck, like lotus flowers beaten down by night rain; the painted maids rushed and panicked, like peonies whirled by the spring wind.They dropped and smashed their pipas, thinking only of life; they fell and hurt their zithers, fleeing for their lives.Out the door with no thought of south or north; from the hall with no care for east or west.Jade faces bruised; pretty faces battered.Every one ran for her life; each fled for what remained of it.

Once out, they dared not raise a cry. The night was deep, and they dared not wake the king. They all hid under the low walls and eaves, shaking—so we leave them.

The monster sat above, pouring and drinking by himself. He would take a cup, then drag a person over and gnaw two bloody mouthfuls. While he feasted inside, outside everyone was passing the word: "The Tang monk is a tiger spirit." The rumor spread and shouted until it reached the Golden Pavilion post house. No one was in the post house then: only the white horse stood at the trough eating grass and fodder. He was the little Dragon King of the Western Sea. For breaking the laws of heaven his horns had been sawn off and his scales stripped, and he had been turned into a white horse to carry the Tang monk west to fetch the scriptures. Hearing men say the Tang monk was a tiger spirit, he thought to himself: "My master is plainly a good man. Some monster must have changed him into a tiger spirit to destroy him. What can be done? What can be done? Eldest brother has been gone long, and there is no word from Bajie or Sha Monk." He bore it until the second watch, and then he jumped up and said: "If I do not save the Tang monk now, this work of merit is finished, finished!" He could not hold back. He snapped the reins, shook loose the saddle and bridle, sprang up, showed his transformation, and became a dragon again. Riding a black cloud, he went straight up into the ninth heaven to look. There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:

Tripitaka came west to bow before the World-Honored One, yet on the road an evil demon's poisoned air lay in wait.Tonight, changed into a tiger, he cannot slip his trouble; the white horse drops its rein to save its master.

In midair the little Dragon King saw the Hall of Silver Peace blazing with lamps and candles: eight great candlesticks stood there, with eight candles burning. He lowered his cloud head and looked carefully. The demon sat above, drinking and eating men's flesh at his ease. The little dragon laughed: "This fellow is no good. He has let his feet show and his game is seen through—he is a flat shoe hung for a scale weight. Is eating men the way to improve oneself? But I do not know where my master is. I have run into this brazen monster first. Let me go tease him. If I succeed and take the demon, there will still be time to save my master."

Good Dragon King! He shook himself and changed into a palace girl, truly light of body and charming of face. She stepped quickly inside and said to the demon with a bow: "My lord, do not take my life. I have come to pour your wine." The demon said: "Pour, then." The little dragon took the pot and poured wine into his cup, and the wine stood three or five parts higher than the brim without spilling over. This was the little dragon's art of "forcing the water." The monster did not know it, and was delighted: "So you have such a skill!" The little dragon said: "I can pour a few parts higher still." The demon said: "Pour again, pour again!" She held up the pot and went on pouring, and the wine went on rising, like a thirteen-story pagoda, pointed and full to the top, without spilling a drop. The monster put out his mouth and drank a cup; then he dragged over a dead man and took a bite. He said: "Can you sing?" The little dragon said: "A little." She sang a little song to the proper tune and offered another cup. The demon said: "Can you dance?" The little dragon said: "A little. But with these bare hands of mine it will not look like much." The demon pulled up his clothes, untied the precious sword from his waist, drew it from the sheath, and handed it to the little dragon.

The little dragon took the sword, watching for her moment, and before the feast she flourished it, three high and four low, five to the left and six to the right, spinning the flowery blade. The monster's eyes bulged watching. Then the little dragon dropped the flourish and struck straight at the demon. Good monster! He twisted aside and dodged, panicked, grabbed up one of the great candlesticks, and caught the precious sword on it. That candlestick, the Hall-Filling Red, was wrought of wrought iron, and with its handle weighed eighty or ninety catties. The two of them fought out of the Hall of Silver Peace, the little dragon showed her true form, rose on a cloud, and fought the demon in midair. It was a fine fight there in the dark. How could you tell it?

One was a monster bred on Bowl Mountain; the other a true dragon banished from the Western Sea.One poured out rays of light, like white lightning spitting; one bred a keen air, like red clouds bursting.One was like a white-tusked old elephant walking the world of men; one like a golden-clawed wildcat flying down from heaven.One a jade pillar holding up the sky; one a golden beam bridging the sea.The silver dragon flew and danced; the yellow fiend tumbled and boiled.Left and right the precious knife never slacked; back and forth, without rest, swung the Hall-Filling Red.

The two of them fought eight or nine rounds in the clouds. The little dragon's hands went soft and her sinews numb, while the old demon was strong and fresh. The little dragon could hold no longer. She sent the sword flying to cut the demon down. The monster had the art of catching a blade: with one hand he took the precious sword, and with the other he hurled the Hall-Filling Red and struck. The little dragon could not guard against it: the blow caught her hind leg. In a panic she dropped her cloud head, and the Imperial Water River saved her life—the little dragon plunged in headfirst. The demon came hunting but found nothing. He took up his precious sword and his Hall-Filling Red and went back to the Hall of Silver Peace to drink and sleep as before—and we say no more of him.

The little dragon lay hid at the bottom of the water. Only after half a watch, hearing no sound, did she grit her teeth, bear the pain in her leg, and jump up. Treading a black cloud, she went straight back to the post house, changed again into the horse she had been, and lay down under the trough. Poor thing, soaked from head to tail, with a wound on her leg. At that hour:

The will horse and the mind ape were scattered; Metal Lord and Wood Mother all withered away.The Yellow Dame was hurt, and all parted company; with the Way thinned and its duty slack, how could the work be done?

We say nothing of Tripitaka's calamity and the little dragon's defeat. Zhu Bajie, since leaving Sha Monk, had hidden himself headfirst in the grass, rooting out a pig's wallow for himself. That sleep lasted till midnight. When he woke he did not know where he was. He rubbed his eyes, gathered his wits, and cocked his ear to listen. Ah! Just as they say: deep in the mountains, no dogs bark; out on the wilds, few cocks crow. He saw the stars shifted and the Dipper turned: about the third watch. He thought: "If I go back to save Sha Monk, it is truly 'one thread makes no cord; one palm cannot clap.' Enough, enough, enough. Let me go into the city, see the master, get the Emperor's leave, and have some brave troops chosen to help this old pig rescue Sha Monk tomorrow."

The Idiot jumped on his cloud and hurried back to the city, and in a moment he was at the post house. All was quiet, and the moon was bright. He could not find the master under the side corridors; only the white horse lay there, soaked from head to tail, with a bruise on its hind leg as big as a plate. Bajie started and said: "Double bad luck! The poor beast has not walked a step, and yet it is in a sweat, with a bruise on its leg. Some villain must have robbed the master and beaten the horse." The white horse knew Bajie, and suddenly it spoke with a man's voice, and called: "Brother." The Idiot fell down in fright, scrambled up, and made for the door. The white horse stretched out its head and caught his black gown in its teeth: "Brother, do not fear me." Bajie said, trembling: "Brother, why are you speaking today? When you speak, something terrible must have happened." The little dragon said: "Do you know the master is in trouble?" Bajie said: "I do not." The little dragon said: "Then you do not know. You and Sha Monk showed off before the Emperor, meaning to take the demon and claim credit and reward. But the demon's powers were great, your arts were not enough, and you could not stand against him. Someone should have come back with word, and no word has come. The demon changed into a handsome scholar, walked into the court, and claimed kinship with the Emperor. He changed my master into a striped tiger, and he has been caught by the ministers and locked in an iron cage in the court offices. When I heard of this misery, it cut me like a knife. You two have been gone two days, knowing nothing, and I feared for his life at any moment. So I had to change into my dragon form and go to the rescue. But in the palace I could not find the master, and outside the Hall of Silver Peace I met the demon. I changed into a palace girl and fooled the monster. He asked me to dance with the sword for him, and I watched my moment and struck at him. He dodged it, raised the great candlestick in both hands, and beat me. I threw the sword at him again; he caught it, threw the candlestick, and struck my hind leg. So I dove into the Imperial Water River and saved my life. The bruise on my leg is from his Hall-Filling Red."

When Bajie heard this he said: "Can this be true?" The little dragon said: "Would I fool you?" Bajie said: "What is to be done? What is to be done? Can you still manage?" The little dragon said: "And if I can manage, what then?" Bajie said: "If you can manage, manage yourself back into the sea. I will carry the luggage back to Gao Village, get into the pot again, and be a son-in-law there." At that the little dragon bit his gown in her teeth and would not let go, and the tears dropped from her eyes in spite of her: "Brother, whatever you do, do not grow lazy." Bajie said: "If I am not lazy, then what? Brother Sha is taken already, and I cannot beat him. If I do not scatter while there is time, what am I waiting for?"

The little dragon thought a long while, and said again, dropping tears: "Brother, do not talk of scattering. If the master is to be saved, there is someone you must go and fetch." Bajie said: "Whom would you have me fetch?" The little dragon said: "Ride your cloud back to Mount Flower-Fruit quickly, and ask Eldest Brother Pilgrim Sun to come. He still has the great power to tame demons. I promise you he will save our master, and win our revenge for this defeat as well." Bajie said: "Brother, could you not name someone else? That monkey and I do not get along. Back on White Tiger Ridge, when he killed Lady White Bone, he blamed me for egging the master on to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell. I only meant it in play, but the old monk recited it in earnest and drove him off home. Heaven knows how he hates me now—he will never come. And if our talk goes a little wrong, that funeral staff of his is heavy. If he lost his sense of measure and laid on a few blows, how would I live through it?" The little dragon said: "He will never strike you. He is a Monkey King with heart and honor. When you see him, do not say the master is in trouble. Only say: 'The master misses you.' Coax him to come. Once he is here and sees how things stand, he will never stomach it. He will fight that demon for certain, and I promise you he will take the demon and save our master." Bajie said: "Very well, very well. You have been so faithful—if I do not go, it will look as if I am the faithless one. And mark this: if I go and Pilgrim truly comes, I will come back with him. But if he does not come, do not wait for me, for I will not come either." The little dragon said: "Go, go. He will come, I promise you."

And truly the Idiot packed up his toothed rake, straightened his gown, jumped up, and rode his cloud straight east. This time, too, the Tang monk's fate held good. The Idiot had the wind behind him. He spread his two ears wide like sails, was over the Eastern Ocean in no time, and brought his cloud down. Without his noticing, the sun was already up, and he began to look for his way into the mountain.

As he was going, he heard voices. Bajie looked carefully: it was Pilgrim in a hollow of the mountain, gathering his troop of demons. He sat on a rocky ledge, and before him more than twelve hundred monkeys stood in ordered ranks, crying: "Ten thousand years to Grandfather Great Sage!" Bajie said to himself: "What a life he leads, what a life! No wonder he would not be a monk, but only wanted to come home. So these are the benefits: so great an estate, and all these little monkeys to wait on him. If this old pig had a mountain like this, I would not be any monk either. But here I am. What now? I must see him, that is certain." The Idiot was a little afraid of him and dared not walk up openly. He sidled along the grassy edge, slipped in among the twelve or thirteen hundred monkeys, squeezed in among them, and knocked his head along with the rest.

But the Great Sage Sun sat high, and his eyes were quick and keen; he saw through him plainly. He asked: "Who is this stranger bowing out of turn in the ranks? An outlander—where from? Bring him up." Before the words were out, the little monkeys swarmed like bees, pushed Bajie forward, and shoved him down on the ground. Pilgrim said: "Where do you come from, outlander?" Bajie hung his head and said: "I dare not—you do me too much honor. No outlander, but an old acquaintance, an old acquaintance." Pilgrim said: "The monkeys under me, the Great Sage's band, all look alike. That mug of yours is one of a kind, and your face is a regular dung heap. You must be a demon from somewhere else. If you come from elsewhere and want a place in my band, first hand in your papers and report your name, and I will keep you here on the roll. If I do not keep you, how dare you go bowing about here?" Bajie hung his head and pushed out his mouth: "Shame on you—pulling out that face of yours! You and I have been brothers for years, and you pretend not to know me, calling me an outlander." Pilgrim laughed and said: "Raise your head, and let me look." The Idiot stuck his snout up: "Look! If you do not know me, you know the mouth at least." Pilgrim could not help laughing: "Zhu Bajie." At the one word he rolled up onto his feet: "That is right, that is right. I am Zhu Bajie." And he thought: "If he knows me, we can talk."

Pilgrim said: "If you are not with the Tang monk fetching scriptures, what have you come here for? I suppose you offended the master, and he has banished you home too. Where is your letter of dismissal? Show me." Bajie said: "I never offended him. He gave no letter of dismissal, and he never drove me off." Pilgrim said: "No letter, and no driving off—then what have you come to me for?" Bajie said: "The master misses you, and sent me to ask you back." Pilgrim said: "He does not miss me, and he will not ask me. That day he swore to heaven and wrote the letter of dismissal with his own hand. How would he miss me now, or send you so far to ask me? I am certainly not going." Bajie told his lie on the spot, and said quickly: "He truly misses you, he truly misses you." Pilgrim said: "How does he miss me?" Bajie said: "The master was riding along and called 'Disciple.' I did not hear him, and Sha Monk played deaf. Then the master thought of you. He said we were no good, and that you were the clever one, the quick one—always answering the moment you were called, giving ten answers to one question. That is how he misses you, and he sent me especially to bring you back. I beg you to make the trip: first, so his hoping is not thrown away; and second, so my long journey is not wasted." When Pilgrim heard this he jumped down from the ledge, took Bajie's arm with his hand, and said: "Younger brother, you have had a long trip. Come and play with me a while." Bajie said: "Brother, the road is long, and I fear the master is watching for us, and we shall be late. I will not play." Pilgrim said: "Well, since you are here, look at my mountain scenery—how do you like it?" The Idiot dared not beg off rudely, and went along with him.

Hand in hand, with all the little demons following, they went up to the very top of Mount Flower-Fruit. A fine mountain! For the Great Sage had been home these few days, and had put it in order, as good as new. And this is what it was:

Green as carved kingfisher jade; high enough to rub the clouds.All around, tigers crouched and dragons coiled; on every side gibbons cried and cranes called.At dawn, clouds sealed the summit; at dusk, the sun hung in the woods.Running water tinkled like jade pendants; the drip of ravine springs played on a precious zither.In front rose craggy peaks and sheer cliffs; behind were flowers and trees in heavy bloom.Above it joined the Jade Maiden's hair-washing basin; below it met the waters parceled out from the River of Heaven.Heaven and earth had knotted their beauty here to rival Penglai; the clear and the turbid had nurtured a true cave home.The finest painter's brush could hardly draw it; the secret art of fairies could not trace it.Rare strange rocks, and the rocks rare again; rare and bright, the peaks at the ridge head.The sun's light stirred, a thousand streaks of purple; the lucky vapor swayed, ten thousand shafts of red dawn.Cave heavens and blessed lands there are in the world of men—but this mountain was covered end to end with new trees and new flowers.

Bajie could not see enough of it, and his heart was glad: "Brother, what a place! Truly the first mountain under heaven." Pilgrim said: "Younger brother, could you live here?" Bajie laughed and said: "Listen to you, brother! This precious mountain is a cave heaven and a blessed land—and you ask whether one could live here?"

The two talked and laughed a long while, and came down the mountain. By the road stood several little monkeys, holding out grapes deep purple, pears and jujubes sweet-smelling, loquats golden yellow, and bayberries bright red, kneeling at the roadside and calling: "Grandfather Great Sage, come in to your morning meal." Pilgrim laughed and said: "My pig brother has a great belly. Fruit is not a meal for him. Very well, very well. Do not scorn the poor fare—eat a few by way of a snack." Bajie said: "Great is my belly, true, but 'in the village, do as the village does.' Bring them, bring them. I will try a few and taste something new."

They ate the fruit, and the sun climbed higher. The Idiot, afraid of losing time over the Tang monk, kept hurrying: "Brother, the master is watching for you and me. Let us go, and go early." Pilgrim said: "Younger brother, come into the Water Curtain Cave and play a while." Bajie refused firmly: "I am much obliged for your kindness, old friend, but the master has waited long. Let us not go into the cave." Pilgrim said: "If that is so, I dare not keep you. Let us part here." Bajie said: "Brother, you will not come?" Pilgrim said: "Where would I go? Here heaven does not gather me in and earth does not govern me, free and easy. If not for the play of it, what would a monk be good for? I am not going. You go by yourself. But carry this word to the Tang monk: now that he has driven me off, let him never think of me again." When the Idiot heard this he dared not press him hard, for fear of provoking his temper and taking a couple of blows of the staff. There was nothing for it but to bow and take his leave, and set off to find his road.

When Pilgrim saw him go, he sent two nimble little monkeys to follow Bajie and hear what he said. And truly, before the Idiot had gone three or four li down the mountain, he turned back, pointed at Pilgrim, and cursed: "This monkey—he will not be a monk, but he will be a demon. This ape—I came in good faith to ask him, and he will not come. Well then, let him not come." A few steps, and a few more curses. The two little monkeys ran back at once and reported: "Grandfather Great Sage, that Zhu Bajie is not honest. He walks a few steps and curses a few times." Pilgrim flew into a rage and called: "Bring him back!" The monkeys came swarming over the ground, caught up with Bajie, tipped him over, took his mane and pulled his ears, hauled his tail and plucked his hair, and carried him back.

How they would deal with him, and whether he would live or die—listen to the next chapter to find out.