Chapter 38

The Young Prince Questions His Mother and Learns False from True; Metal and Wood Probe the Mystery and See the False That Passes for True

Meeting the lord, he spoke only of the causes of rebirth, and so became a guest at the Tathagata's assembly.With one thought, gazing calmly on the Buddha in the dusty world; through the ten quarters all behold the awesome god descending.To know who is the true sovereign today, ask the one who was lawful mother in years gone by.There are things in this world never seen before: at every step, at every stride, a new flower opens.

Now the prince of Black Rooster, having parted from the Great Sage, returned to the city in no long time. As promised he did not make for the court gate, nor dare report for the edict to be cried, but went straight to the rear postern, where several palace eunuchs kept the watch. Seeing the prince come, they dared not hold him, and let him in. Brave prince! He pressed his horse and pushed inside, and suddenly was beneath the Brocade Fragrance Pavilion. There sat the queen of the main palace in the Brocade Fragrance Pavilion, with a few dozen consorts fanning on either side, while the queen leaned on the carved rail and wept. And why did she weep, do you think? She too had dreamed at the fourth watch, remembering half and the other half gone dim, and sat sunk in thought.

The prince dismounted, knelt beneath the pavilion, and called: "Mother." The queen forced a glad face and called: "Child, what joy! What joy! These two or three years you have been lecturing with your royal father in the front hall, and we have not met—I have thought of you so. How comes it you are free today to come look at me? Truly a joy ten thousandfold! Truly ten thousandfold! Child, why is your voice so grievous? Your royal father is old; one day the dragon will go home to the blue sea, the phoenix back to the crimson heavens, and you will inherit the throne—what is there to grieve?" The prince knocked his head: "Mother, answer me: who is it that mounts the dragon throne? Who indeed is it that styles himself the Solitary One?" At this the queen said: "Has the child gone mad? The emperor is your royal father—why this asking?" The prince knocked his head: "A hundred thousand times, Mother, pardon your son his offense and I will ask; pardon me not, and I dare not ask." "Between mother and child, what offense is there? Pardoned, pardoned—speak quickly," said the queen. The prince said: "Mother, I ask you: was the love between you and my father in the palace, three years ago, the same as in the three years after?" At this the queen's soul drifted and her spirit scattered; she hastened down from the pavilion, took him up, and held him close, tears dropping from her eyes: "Child, it is long since we two met—why do you come to the palace today to ask this?" The prince said with heat: "Mother, if you have words, say them now; if not, you will spoil a great matter." Only then did the queen wave off her attendants and say in a low voice through her tears: "Had you not asked, child, not even beneath the Nine Springs should I have come at the truth of this. Since you ask, hear me:

Three years before he was warm and tender; three years after, cold as ice. At the pillow's side I pressed him with my questions, and he said only: old and failing, his powers gone.

At this the prince let go, freed himself, and swung to the saddle. The queen caught him by the sleeve: "Child, what matter is this, that you leave before your words are done?" The prince knelt before her: "Mother, I dare not say. At morning court I was honored with the imperial commission to fly hawks and course hounds out the city gate to the hunt. By chance I met the holy monk who seeks scriptures, sent from the court of the eastern lands; his great disciple is Pilgrim Sun, of supreme skill in subduing demons. It seems my royal father died in the octagonal glazed-tile well of the imperial garden, and this adept took his shape and usurped the dragon seat. At the third watch tonight my father sent the dream, asking him to come to the city and take the monster. Your son dared not believe it all, and came expressly to ask you, Mother. The words you have just spoken, Mother—then it is a monster fiend past doubting." The queen said: "Child, the word of an outsider—and you believe it as truth?" "Your son dared not take it for truth as yet," said the prince. "But my father left a token with him." The queen asked what thing; the prince drew the gold-cased white jade scepter from his sleeve and handed it to her. The queen knew it for the treasure of the king in those days, and her tears could not be stopped, gushing like a spring. She cried: "My lord! Dead three years, you never came to see me—yet first you see the holy monk, and then the prince?" "Mother, what is this you say?" said the prince. The queen said: "Child, at the fourth watch I too had a dream: I saw your royal father standing dripping before me, telling me with his own lips that he was dead, and that his ghost had begged the Tang monk to subdue the false emperor and save his former body. Remember it I do, word for word so—only half of it stays dim to me. I sat here doubting—who knew that today you too would come with this tale, and bring out the treasure? Let me keep it; and go, pray the holy monk to make all haste. If indeed he sweeps away the demon pest and makes the false and true plain, then may we repay the grace your royal father showed in rearing you."

The prince mounted in haste, went out the rear postern, and drew away from the city. Truly: with tears held in his eyes he kowtowed farewell to the mother of the realm; with sorrow in his breast he bowed his head again to the Tang monk. In no time he was out the city gate and reined in before the gate of the Treasure Grove Monastery. The soldiers received the prince, and the red wheel was near its setting. The prince gave orders: the soldiers were not to stir. He entered the gate alone, straightened cap and gown, and bowed to beg Pilgrim's aid. The Monkey King came swaying and swaggering from the main hall, and the prince fell on both knees: "Master, I have come." Pilgrim stepped up and raised him: "Rise. In the city, whom did you ask?" "I asked my mother," said the prince, and told all the foregoing from first to last. Pilgrim smiled a little: "So cold as that—some cold thing must have changed into him. No matter, no matter; Old Sun will sweep him away for you. Only it is late today, no time to act. You go back first; I shall come in the morning." The prince knelt and knocked his head: "Master, let me wait here until tomorrow and go in with you." "No good, no good," said Pilgrim. "If I enter the city with you, the monster will grow suspicious: he will not say I ran into you—he will say you fetched Old Sun. Would that not set him against you?" "But if I enter the city now, he will be angry with me anyway," said the prince. "Angry with you how?" said Pilgrim. "At morning court I was honored with the commission and led out men, hawks, and hounds; a whole day gone and not one head of game—how shall I face the throne? If they arraign me for incompetence and clap me in the prison of Youli, what hold will you have when you enter the city tomorrow? Besides, in all that court there is not one man I can call my own." "What of that?" said Pilgrim. "Had you said so sooner, I would have laid in something for you."

Brave Great Sage! See him, there before the prince, show his art: he gave a leap and sprang into the clouds. Twisting the sign, he pronounced the true words of purification of the Law's realm, and summoned the mountain god and the local earth god, who saluted in midair: "Great Sage, you call us little gods—what are your commands?" Pilgrim said: "Old Sun guards the Tang monk here and means to take a wicked demon; but the prince has hunted all day with nothing to show, and dare not face the court. I ask a favor of you: quickly find some roe deer and hares, beasts of chase and birds of the air, and send him home provided." Hearing this, how dared the mountain god and earth god refuse? They asked how many of each he wanted. "Any number," said the Great Sage. "Some of each will do." The gods then set their dark troops of each place to work: with a gust of beast-gathering dark wind they took wild fowl and mountain pheasants, antlered deer and fat roe, foxes, badgers, lynx, and hares, tigers, leopards, wolves, and bears—a thousand-odd head in all—and presented them to Pilgrim. "Old Sun does not want them," said Pilgrim. "Turn them into carcasses and lay them along both sides of that forty-li road; tell the men to loose no hawks or hounds, only gather them up and carry them back to the city—and I will set the merit to your account." The gods did as told: they drew off the dark wind and laid the game out on either hand.

Pilgrim then pressed down his cloud and said to the prince: "Return, Your Highness; the road is provided—take in your harvest." Seeing him work such powers in midair, how could the prince disbelieve? He could only knock his head and take his leave. Outside the gate he gave his orders, and the soldiers turned back to the city. Along the road indeed lay game past counting; the soldiers loosed no hawks or hounds, but caught it up hand to hand, cheering, all crying it was the great good fortune of His Highness—little knowing it was Old Sun's craft. Hear the victory songs as they swept back into the city in a crowd.

Pilgrim meanwhile kept guard over Tripitaka. The monks of the temple, seeing how close they stood with the prince, how could they but show respect? They laid another vegetarian feast and waited on Tang monk, and the travelers lodged again in the meditation hall as before. Toward the first watch, with matters on his mind, Pilgrim could not sleep. He rolled up and came to Tang monk's bed: "Master." The elder was not asleep; he knew Pilgrim's way of raising alarms, and feigned sleep, making no answer. Pilgrim felt for his bare head and shook it: "How can you be asleep, Master?" Tang monk said in wrath: "You graceless thing—not asleep at this hour, and bawling—what is it?" "Master, there is a matter I must weigh with you," said Pilgrim. "What matter?" said the elder. "This morning I boasted to the prince that my arts were higher than the hills, deeper than the sea, that taking that demon would be like reaching into my own bag for a trinket—put out a hand and pull him back. Now I cannot sleep for thinking: there is some difficulty in it," said Pilgrim. "If it is difficult, then let the demon be," said Tang monk. "Take him I must—only the right of the matter does not run smooth," said Pilgrim. "Monkey, you talk wildly," said Tang monk. "A demon has stolen the seat of a living sovereign—how does the right of it not run smooth?" "You, sir, know only chanting scriptures and worshiping Buddhas, sitting in meditation and probing Chan; you have never made the acquaintance of Xiao He's statutes," said Pilgrim. "As the saying goes, 'To take a thief, take him with the goods.' That monster has reigned emperor three years and never once put a foot wrong nor let the word slip. He sleeps beside the consorts of the three palaces and shares his pleasures with the civil and military of two ranks: even had Old Sun the art to seize him, there would be no fixing a charge on him." "How would no charge lie?" said Tang monk. "Say he were a gourd without a mouth, he would still roll a turn or two over it," said Pilgrim. "He would have the face to say: 'I am the king of Black Rooster; what treason have I done, that you take me?' What warrant have you to plead against him?"

"And how do you propose to manage it?" said Tang monk. Pilgrim laughed: "The plan is made already. Only it touches on you, sir, who are apt to take a favorite's part." "How do I take a favorite's part?" said Tang monk. "Bajie is a lumbering soul, and you lean toward him a little," said Pilgrim. "How do I lean toward him?" said Tang monk. "If you do not lean toward him, then brace up your courage now and stay here with Sha Monk. Old Sun and Bajie will go this instant into the city of Black Rooster, find the imperial garden, open the glazed well, fish up that emperor's body, and bundle it into our pack. Tomorrow when we enter the city we shall let the rescripts wait: the moment we see the monster, out comes the staff and we fall on him. If he says one word, we show him the corpse: 'The man you murdered is this.' Then we bring the prince forward to mourn his father, the queen out to own her husband, the civil and military to behold their sovereign—and Old Sun and the brothers fall to. That is a suit with a defendant in it, and worth the fighting." Hearing this, Tang monk was inwardly pleased, but said: "I only fear Bajie will not go." Pilgrim laughed: "There! Did I not say you take his part? How do you know he will not go? Let me serve him as I served you—no answer to my calling; half a watch and it is done. I go now, and with this three-inch tongue of mine—not Bajie only, but a Bajie the Ninth—I could bring him tagging after me." "Very well; go and call him," said Tang monk.

Pilgrim left his master and went straight to Bajie's bed, calling: "Bajie, Bajie." The Idiot, worn out with the day's tramping, had dropped off and snored on—no calling would wake him. Pilgrim took him by the ear and the bristles and hauled him up, calling: "Bajie." The Idiot still struggled and twisted. Pilgrim called again, and the Idiot said: "Let me sleep; no fooling—we march tomorrow." "No fooling," said Pilgrim. "There is a piece of business I want you on." "What business?" said Bajie. "Did you hear what the prince said?" said Pilgrim. "I never saw him; I heard nothing," said Bajie. Pilgrim said: "The prince told me that demon has a treasure that gives him valor ten thousand men cannot match. Tomorrow we enter the city and cannot avoid crossing him; if the monster should bring out that treasure and floor the two of us, would not that turn all ill? I say the best defense is to strike first. Let us two go steal it from him—eh?" "Brother, you are making a thief of me," said Bajie. "Well, that business I can go on. And since we understand each other, let this be plain between us: when the treasure is stolen and the monster subdued, I will have none of your stingy nibbling at shares—the treasure is mine." "What would you do with it?" said Pilgrim. "I am not the clever talker you are, that can beg a meal from anyone. This old pig is clumsy of body and coarse of speech and cannot chant scriptures; when we come to some barren stretch with neither help nor hospitality, might not this serve to swap for my meals?" "Old Sun wants only a name—not any treasure. It is yours," said Pilgrim. Hearing it was all to be his, the Idiot was delighted; he rolled up, pulled on his clothes, and set off with Pilgrim. As the saying is: clear wine reddens a man's face; yellow gold stirs a monk's heart.

The two slipped quietly out the door, left Tripitaka behind, rose on auspicious light, and made straight for the city. In no time they arrived, pressed down the cloud, and heard the second watch just sounding from the tower. "Brother, it is the second watch," said Pilgrim. "Just right, just right," said Bajie. "All the world is deep in its first sleep." The two did not make for the main gate but went to the rear postern, where they heard the watch clappers and bells. "Brother, the gates fore and aft are strictly kept—how do we get in?" said Pilgrim. "Did you ever see a thief go by the door?" said Bajie. "Over the wall we go." Pilgrim did so: a bound, and he was atop the inner city wall; Bajie leapt up after him. The two slipped inside, found their way, and made straight for the imperial garden.

As they went they saw a white-gleamed gate tower of triple eaves, and on it three great characters glowing bright in the light of stars and moon: "Imperial Garden." Pilgrim came near and saw seals upon seals, and the lock rusted fast on the door, and ordered Bajie to work. The Idiot brought up his iron rake and struck with all his might, smashing the door to splinters. Pilgrim stepped in first—and could not help leaping up and shouting aloud. Bajie was terrified and pulled him back: "Brother, you will be the death of me! Did you ever see a thief bawl so? Wake the household, get us taken, haled before the magistrate—short of a capital sentence we should be shipped home in chains to the frontier!" "Brother, do you know why I cry out? Look at this," said Pilgrim:

Painted balustrades in ruin; carved pavilions listing.The sedge banks and the pebble shores buried in dust; peony and multiflora rose alike gone to wrack.Jasmine and rose, their fragrance smothered; peony and lily blooming for nothing.Hibiscus and rose of Sharon choked with weeds; rare blooms and curious flowers smothered and spoiled.Cunning rocks and stone peaks all tumbled; the pond dry, its fish dying.Green pines and purple bamboo like kindling; fuzzy southernwood and mugwort over all the paths.Red cassia and jade peach with broken limbs; pomegranate and cherry, roots awry.Moss on the bridge and along the winding walks—the cold neglect of a garden's realm.

"What good is sighing over it?" said Bajie. "Come, about our business." For all his feeling, Pilgrim kept in mind the Tang monk's dream: the well was to be found beneath the banana plant. Walking on, he spied indeed a banana plant, flourishing beyond all the other flowers and trees. Truly:

A numinous plant of grace, its nature empty from birth.Branch by branch it unrolls its leaves of paper; leaf on leaf it coils a fragrant crown.Green threads, a thousand fine filaments; a crimson heart, one point of red.Desolate, it grieves the night rain; haggard, it dreads the autumn wind.Nursed by the strength of primal stems, fostered by the craft of creation.Wrapped about a letter, it turns to wondrous use; spread against the gale, it has strange powers.What phoenix plume could match it? In the luan's tail a very likeness.Thin dew drips heavy upon it; light mist drapes it pale.Green shade bars the door and window; its jade shadow climbs the curtained lattice.No wild goose may roost in it; how should it tether a dappled jade steed?Under frost its form withers; in moonlit night its color swims.It may temper the fierce heats; it is fit to fence the broiling sun.It is abashed it lacks peach and plum's colors, standing neglected east of the white wall.

"Bajie, to work," said Pilgrim. "The treasure is buried under the banana plant." The Idiot raised the rake in both hands and felled the banana plant. Then he rooted with his snout, three or four feet down, till he came to a stone slab laid over. The Idiot was delighted: "Brother, our luck! There is a treasure sure—it is a stone slab over it. Shall it be a jar that holds it, or a chest?" "Lift it and look," said Pilgrim. The Idiot rooted the slab aside with another thrust of his snout, and looked: rosy light blazed, white vapor glowed. Bajie laughed: "Luck, luck! The treasure gives off light." But coming close and looking hard—ah! It was only the light of stars and moon made bright in the well's water. "Brother, whenever you set a business going, you always keep a hold on the root," said Bajie. "How do I keep a hold?" said Pilgrim. "This is a well. Had you said in the temple that the treasure was in a well, I would have brought the two cords that bind our packs, and worked some means to let this old pig down. Now, empty-handed, how am I to get down there and up again?" "You are going down, then?" said Pilgrim. "Down I must go—only there is no cord," said Bajie. Pilgrim laughed: "Take off your clothes; I have a means for you." "What fine clothes have I?" said Bajie. "Off comes this cassock, and that is all."

Brave Great Sage! He brought out the gold-banded staff, pulled it at both ends, cried "Grow!"—and it stood seven or eight zhang long. "Bajie, grip one end; I will let you down the well," said he. "Brother, let me down by all means—only stop when you come to the water," said Bajie. "I know it," said Pilgrim. The Idiot gripped the staff; Pilgrim raised him gently and let him down, and in a little he was at the water's edge. "I am at the water," said Bajie. Pilgrim, hearing him, pressed the staff down instead. The Idiot went under headfirst with a plunge; he let go the staff, struck out in the water, and spluttered: "You heaven-struck wretch! I said stop at the water—and he pushes me under!" Pilgrim whipped the staff up and laughed: "Brother, any treasure down there?" "Treasure, indeed! Nothing but a well of water," said Bajie. "The treasure lies at the bottom. Dive down and feel for it," said Pilgrim. The Idiot truly knew the water: he took a headers-dive and plunged down. Ah! The well was deep indeed. He dove again in earnest, and suddenly, opening his eyes, saw a gateway tower with three characters on it: "Crystal Palace." Bajie was startled: "It is over, it is over! I have taken the wrong turning and come down into the sea. The sea has a Crystal Palace—how should a well have one?" Bajie did not know this was the Crystal Palace of the Well Dragon King.

While Bajie was thus muttering, a water-patrol yaksha opened the gate, saw what he was, and slipped inside to report: "Great King, disaster! A monk with a long snout and great ears has dropped down the well, stark naked without a stitch, and not dead either—jawing away for dear life." At this the Well Dragon King was startled: "That will be Marshal Tianpeng come. Last night the Night-Wandering God brought down an edict to fetch the soul of the king of Black Rooster to pay his respects to the Tang monk, and ask the Great Sage Equal to Heaven to subdue the demon. This must be the Great Sage and Marshal Tianpeng then; we must not be remiss. Go quickly and receive him."

The Dragon King straightened his robes, led out his water-folk, came to the gate, and called loudly: "Marshal Tianpeng, pray step inside." Then at last Bajie was cheered: "Why, an old friend!" The Idiot, making no ceremony, walked straight into the Crystal Palace. Not knowing his place, dripping and naked, he sat him down in the seat of honor. The Dragon King said: "Marshal, I hear of late that you were spared your life, took the Buddhist discipline, and went west with the Tang monk seeking scriptures. How do you come to this place?" "That is the very business," said Bajie. "My brother Pilgrim Sun sends you a thousand salutations, and sent me to ask you for a certain treasure." The Dragon King said: "Poor fellow! How should a treasure come to this place? I am not as the Dragon Kings of the great rivers, who in their flights and changes have gathered treasures. I have been stuck in this well forever; I hardly see sun and moon from one day to the next—where would a treasure come from?" "No prevaricating," said Bajie. "If you have one, out with it." "A treasure I have, of a sort—but it cannot be brought out. Will the Marshal come and look at it himself?" "Fine, fine, fine!" said Bajie. "Seeing is required indeed."

The Dragon King went ahead, the Idiot following. Past the Crystal Palace halls they came, and under the corridor lay stretched a body six feet long. The Dragon King pointed with his finger: "Marshal, there is your treasure." Bajie came up and looked—ah! It was a dead emperor: the heaven-reaching crown on his head, the ochre-yellow robe on his body, the carefree shoes on his feet, the Lantian-jade belt at his waist, lying stiff and stark where he was. Bajie laughed: "No, no, no—that is no treasure. When this old pig was a monster on his mountain, such things were his daily bread—to say nothing of how many I have seen, I have eaten past counting. And this called a treasure?" "Then the Marshal does not know," said the Dragon King. "This is the body of the king of Black Rooster. Since he came into my well I have held him with the Color-Fixing Pearl, and he has not spoiled. If you will carry him out to the Great Sage Equal to Heaven—if there is any thought of bringing the dead to life again—never mind a treasure; whatever you ask, you shall have." "If that is how it is, I will carry him out. Now: how much burial money do you pay?" said Bajie. "In truth, no money," said the Dragon King. "You make a man work for nothing? No money, no carrying," said Bajie. "Then do not carry him. Good day," said the Dragon King. Bajie turned to go. The Dragon King sent two strong yakshas to bear the body out and set it down outside the Crystal Palace gate; the Water-Parting Pearl was taken from Bajie, and the water roared in.

Bajie whipped round: no Crystal Palace gate. His hand closed on the emperor's body, and terror turned his legs to tow; he shot up to the surface, clutched the well's wall, and cried: "Brother, reach down the staff and pull me out!" "And is there a treasure?" said Pilgrim. "Where would there be one? There is a Well Dragon King down there who wanted me to carry a dead man. I would not, so he had me put out the gate, and the Crystal Palace was gone, and there was nothing in my hands but the corpse. It frightened me limp—I cannot struggle another stroke. Brother, save me, save me!" "That is the treasure," said Pilgrim. "Why do you not carry it up?" "Who knows how long the man has been dead? Why should I carry him?" said Bajie. "Then carry him not, and I go home," said Pilgrim. "Home where?" said Bajie. "Back to the temple, to bed with my master," said Pilgrim. "And am I not to come too?" said Bajie. "Climb out and I take you; climb not, and stay," said Pilgrim. Bajie panicked: "How could I climb? Think: even a city wall is hard to scale, and this well is big-bellied and small-mouthed, its sides sheer, a well untouched by bucket these many years, moss-grown all around—slippery past telling. How am I to climb it? Brother, let us not fall out, brothers as we are; I will carry him up." "Right," said Pilgrim. "Carry him up quickly, and home to bed with us both." The Idiot took another headers-dive, felt for the body, hauled it over, hoisted it on his back, shot up to the surface, and gripped the well's wall: "Brother, I have him up." Pilgrim opened his eyes and looked: the body was truly on his back. Then he reached the gold-banded staff down to the well's bottom. The Idiot, sullen as he was, opened his mouth, gripped the iron staff in his teeth, and Pilgrim drew him gently up.

Bajie set the body down and fished up his clothes and put them on. Pilgrim looked: the emperor's face was as of old, not changed a hair from life. "Brother," said Pilgrim, "the man has been dead three years—how is his face unspoiled?" "You do not know. The Well Dragon King told me he held him with the Color-Fixing Pearl, and so the body has not spoiled," said Bajie. "Luck, luck!" said Pilgrim. "First, his wrong is yet unavenged; second, the achievement is to be ours. Brother, carry him away quickly." "Carry him where?" said Bajie. "Carry him to my master," said Pilgrim. Bajie muttered as he went: "The idea! The idea! A man sleeping warm in his bed, and this monkey with his smooth talk coaxes me out on some grand business—and the business turns out carrying a corpse! With this filthy water dripping down off him to foul my clothes, with no one to wash them. And my gown, patched as it is, goes damp in this clammy air—how am I to wear it?" "Carry him, never mind," said Pilgrim. "At the temple I will get you a change of clothes." "Shame on you! You have not a spare gown of your own—what will you change for me?" said Bajie. "All this chatter—shall we say you will not carry him, then?" said Pilgrim. "I will not," said Bajie. "Stick out those ankle-bones, then: twenty blows of the staff," said Pilgrim. Bajie panicked: "Brother, that staff is heavy. Twenty blows would make me just like this emperor here." "If you fear the blows, shoulder him and take the road quickly," said Pilgrim. Bajie indeed feared the blows; in high dudgeon he hauled the body over, hoisted it on his back, and strode out of the garden.

Brave Great Sage! He twisted the sign, pronounced a spell, drew in a breath toward the quarter of the wind, and blew it out: a wild gust swept Bajie clear of the palace precincts and away from the city; then, the wind stilled, the two came down to earth and trudged on at an easy pace. The Idiot nursed his spite and schemed how to pay Pilgrim back: "This monkey makes a game of me; at the temple I will make a game of him. I will egg Master on—say only that he can bring the man back to life. If he cannot, let Master recite the Tight-Fillet Spell and squeeze the brains out of this monkey's skull. That would sweeten my mood." Walking along, he thought it over again and again: "No good, no good. Letting him fetch the man back is too easy: he has only to go to King Yama's house and beg the soul home, and the man is alive. No—say he may not set foot in the dark jurisdiction, but must bring him back to life in the world of the living. That is the test."

Before he had done speaking they were at the temple gate; in they went, and Bajie dumped the body at the meditation hall door. "Master, get up and look at the devil," said he. Tang monk had not slept; he was telling Sha Monk how Pilgrim had cozened Bajie away and was long in returning. At the sudden call the Tang monk rose in haste: "Disciple, look at what?" "Pilgrim's grandfather," said Bajie. "This old pig carried him here." "You filthy Idiot!" said Pilgrim. "What grandfather have I?" "Brother, if he is not your grandfather, why set this old pig to carry him? Heaven knows what labor it cost me."

Tang monk and Sha Monk opened the door and looked: the emperor's face unchanged, for all the world as if alive. Sudden grief seized the elder: "Your Majesty—who knew what enemy of a former life you would meet in this one, done secretly to death, wife and children cast off, and not an official of the court the wiser. Poor soul, your wife in her blindness—who has burned you incense, offered you tea?" His voice broke of a sudden, and his tears came down like rain. Bajie laughed: "Master, what is he to you, dead? He is no father or grandfather of yours—why weep for him?" "Disciple," said Tripitaka, "the renunciate takes mercy for his root and forbearance for his gate. How can you be so hard of heart?" "It is not hardness of heart," said Bajie. "Brother told me he could bring him back to life. If he could not, I would never have carried him here." The elder, easily swayed on one side, was shaken by the Idiot's words, and called: "Wukong, if you truly have the art to bring this emperor back to life, then 'to save one life is better than building a seven-story pagoda'—and we shall have done better than worshiping Buddhas on Vulture Peak." "Master, how can you credit this Idiot's drivel?" said Pilgrim. "When a man dies, by the twenty-first day or the thirty-fifth, by the seven sevens, a hundred days at the outside, his debts of suffering in the world of the living discharged, he passes on to rebirth. This man has been dead three years—how could he be saved?" Hearing this, Tripitaka said: "So be it, then." But Bajie's grudge would not rest: "Master, do not let him cozen you—he has a screw loose in his skull. Just recite that spell of ours, and I warrant he produces you a living man." And in truth Tang monk began the Tight-Fillet Spell, and squeezed till the monkey's eyes bulged and his head split.

But how he would bring off the cure—who could say? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

The prince questions his mother and learns false from true; Metal and Wood probe the mystery and find the false king

Meet the lord and speak only of the cause of rebirth, and you seem one of the Tathagata's own assembly.With one still thought, see the Buddha in the dusty world; the ten quarters together see the majesty that comes down.If you would know the true sovereign of today, ask the true mother of those years.There is a thing the world has never seen: each step along the way, a fresh flower.

Now the prince of the King of Black-Rooster, having left the Great Sage, was back in the city in no time. Truly he did not go to the palace front, nor dare send in a herald's announcement, but went straight to the rear gate, where several palace eunuchs stood guard. Seeing the prince come, they dared not hold him up, and let him through. The fine prince squeezed his horse and pushed inside, and soon was under the Brocade-Fragrance Pavilion. There sat the chief queen in the pavilion, with dozens of consorts fanning her on either side—and the queen, leaning on the carved railing, was in tears. Why was she weeping? At the fourth watch she too had had a dream, half remembered, half blurred, and it weighed on her mind.

The prince dismounted, knelt below the pavilion, and called, "Mother." The queen forced a glad face and called: "Child, joy, joy! These two or three years you have been lecturing in the front hall with your royal father, and we could not meet—I have missed you so. How do you find leisure today to come see me? Truly ten thousand joys! But child, why is your voice so mournful? Your royal father is advanced in years. One day the dragon will return to the blue sea and the phoenix to the crimson sky, the throne will pass to you—what then is there to grieve?" The prince knocked his head: "Mother, answer me: who is it that has mounted the throne and plays the dragon? Who truly is it that styles himself the Solitary One?" The queen said, "Has this child gone mad? The emperor is your own father. Why ask?" The prince knocked his head: "I beg Mother a thousand times: pardon your son in advance, and I will dare ask. Without pardon I dare not." The queen said, "Between mother and son, what guilt is there? Pardoned, pardoned. Speak quickly." The prince said, "Mother, I ask how things were between you and my father in his chamber three years ago, compared with the three years since—are the affections the same?" At this the queen's soul scattered. She hurried down from the pavilion, took him up in her arms, hugged him tight, tears dropping: "Child, we have been apart so long—why do you come to the palace today asking this?" The prince said hotly: "Mother, if you have words, say them early. If not, you will spoil a great matter." Then the queen waved away her attendants and said through tears, in a low voice: "If you had not asked, child, not even at the nine springs could I have it made clear. Since you ask, hear me:

Three years back, warm he was and tender; after those three years, cold as ice.At the pillow I pressed him with my questions; he said he was old and failing, and the spring would not rise.

Hearing this, the prince let go, broke free, and climbed into the saddle. The queen grabbed him: "Child, what is this business, that you leave before your words are done?" The prince knelt before her: "Mother, I dared not say it out there. At morning court I was given the imperial errand—hawks and hounds, out of the city to hunt. By chance I met a holy sutra-seeking monk from the Land of the East, whose eldest disciple is Pilgrim Sun, supreme at beating monsters. It seems my royal father died in the eight-sided glazed well in the imperial garden, and this perfected master took his shape and usurped the throne. At the third watch last night my father sent the dream, asking him to come to the city and catch the monster. I dared not fully believe, and came specially to ask Mother. And the words you have just spoken—there must be a monster in the palace." The queen said, "Son, the words of an outsider—how can you take them as fact?" The prince said, "I dared not accept it as fact either—until my father left a token with him." The queen asked what thing; the prince drew the gold-rimmed white jade tablet from his sleeve and handed it to her. The queen knew it for the treasure of the king of those days, and her tears gushed like a spring. She cried: "My lord, three years dead and you never came to see me—but first the holy monk, then the prince?" The prince said, "Mother, what is this you say?" The queen said, "Son, at the fourth watch I too had a dream. I dreamed your royal father stood before me dripping wet, and told me himself that he was dead, and that his ghost had begged the Tang monk to subdue the false emperor and save his former body. I remember the words well enough, but half of it stayed unclear. I was still puzzling over it—who knew you would come today saying this, and bring out the treasure as well. I will keep it. Go now, and beg that holy monk to make haste. If the demon fog is truly swept away and false told from true, then your father's grace in raising you is repaid."

The prince hurried onto his horse and out the rear gate, away from the city. Truly: with tears held back he knocked his head and left his queen mother; with grief in his heart he bowed low again to the Tang monk. In no time he was out the city gate, reining up before the mountain gate of Baolin Monastery. The soldiers received the prince; the red wheel was near setting. The prince passed the order: no soldier to move about. Alone he entered the gate, straightened his cap and robes, and bowed to ask for Pilgrim. The Monkey King came swaying out of the main hall, and the prince fell on both knees: "Master, I have come." Pilgrim came up and raised him: "Please rise. In the city, whom did you question?" The prince said, "I questioned my mother." And he told it all over again. Pilgrim smiled a little: "Cold as all that—some ice-cold thing changed its shape, I would say. No matter, no matter. Old Sun will sweep it away for you. Only it is late today, no time to act. Go back now; I will come in the morning." The prince knelt and knocked his head: "Master, I will wait right here until tomorrow and go along with you." Pilgrim said, "Not good, not good. If I enter the city with you, the monster will grow suspicious. He won't say I ran into you—he will say you fetched Old Sun. Wouldn't that turn his anger on you?" The prince said, "Even entering the city now, he will blame me." Pilgrim said, "Blame you for what?" The prince said, "This morning I took the imperial errand, led out troops and hawks and hounds—and all day not one head of game. How do I show myself at court? If I am charged with incompetence and clapped in a Youli prison, what will you lean on when you enter the city tomorrow? And besides, in all that courtly crowd I have not one friend." Pilgrim said, "Is that all? If you had said so sooner, wouldn't I have found something waiting for you?"

The Great Sage, right before the prince, showed a bit of his craft: he gave a leap and jumped into the clouds. He pinched the sign and spoke the true words "Om, blue, purify the dharma realm," and summoned the mountain god and the local earth god, who saluted in mid-air: "Great Sage, you call upon your small gods—what are your orders?" Pilgrim said, "Old Sun is here protecting the Tang monk, meaning to seize a demon. But the prince has no game from the hunt and dare not return to court. I ask a favor of you: quickly find river deer, elk, hares, beasts and birds, some of each, and see him on his way." Hearing this, how could the mountain god and earth god refuse? They asked how many of each. The Great Sage said, "Never mind the number. Some of each will do." The gods sent the dark soldiers of their several places, who whipped up a beast-gathering wind of the netherworld and caught wild fowl and mountain pheasants, antlered deer and fat river deer, foxes, badgers, raccoon-dogs, hares, tigers, leopards, wolves—hundreds and thousands in all—and presented them to Pilgrim. Pilgrim said, "Old Sun does not want them. Stiffen their sinews where they lie and set them along both sides of the forty li of road. Tell the men to fly no hawks and loose no hounds—they can just pick them up and carry them back to the city. That shall count as your merit." The gods did as told, gathered in the dark wind, and laid the game out on either side.

Pilgrim brought his cloud down and said to the prince: "Your Highness, return. The road is already lined with game. Gather it as you go." Seeing such magic worked in mid-air, how could the prince disbelieve? He could only knock his head and take his leave. Outside the gate he passed the order, and the soldiers turned toward the city. And there by the roadside, boundless game. The soldiers flew no hawks and loosed no hounds; each one grabbed with his own hands, cheering, all saying it was the boundless luck of His Highness the Thousand Years—who knew it was Old Sun's magic. Hear the victory songs as they swept back into the city together.

So Pilgrim kept his guard on Tripitaka. Seeing how intimate the prince was with them, how could the monastery's monks not show respect? They laid out a vegetarian offering and waited on the Tang monk again, and the party rested as before in the meditation hall. Near the first watch, Pilgrim had business on his mind and could not sleep. He rolled up and came to the Tang monk's bed: "Master." The elder was not asleep yet; he knew Pilgrim's startle-and-clamor ways, and pretended sleep, giving no answer. Pilgrim felt his bare head and shook it: "How is Master asleep?" The Tang monk said angrily: "You imp. Not asleep at this hour—what is the yelling for?" Pilgrim said, "Master, there is a matter I want to weigh with you." The elder said, "What matter?" Pilgrim said, "By day I bragged to that prince that my skill is taller than mountains, deeper than seas—that catching the monster would be like taking a thing from my own bag: reach in and pull it out. Now I cannot sleep for thinking there is some difficulty in it." The Tang monk said, "If you say it is hard, then don't catch him." Pilgrim said, "Catch him I must and will. Only it does not square with reason." The Tang monk said, "Monkey-head, more wild talk. A demon has stolen a sovereign's throne—how does that not square with reason?" Pilgrim said, "You know only chanting and worship, sitting and meditating. When did you ever see Xiao He's laws? The common saying: 'To catch a thief, catch him with the loot.' That monster has been emperor three years and never once put a foot wrong or let word slip. He sleeps beside the consorts and queens of three palaces and shares feasts with both ranks of civil and military officers. Even if Old Sun could seize him, there would be no fixing a crime on him." The Tang monk said, "How so, no fixing a crime?" Pilgrim said, "He is a gourd without a mouth, yet he would roll a few turns on you. He would say bold as brass: 'I am the King of Black-Rooster. What crime against heaven have I done, that you seize me?' What warrant would you answer him with?"

The Tang monk said, "Then settle it as you see fit." Pilgrim laughed: "Old Sun's plan is made already. Only it touches on you, sir—you have a soft spot." The Tang monk said, "Where is my soft spot?" Pilgrim said, "Bajie is a clod, and you lean his way a little." The Tang monk said, "How do I lean his way?" Pilgrim said, "If you don't, then take heart now, big as you can make it, and stay here with Sha Monk. Let Old Sun and Bajie slip into the Black-Rooster capital while it is dark, find the imperial garden, open the glazed well, and fish up the king's body, and pack it in our bundle. Tomorrow in the city, never mind the travel papers. The moment we see the monster, out comes the staff and we strike. If he says one word, we show him the body and say: 'This is the man you killed.' Then let the prince come up weeping for his father, the queen come out and know her husband, the civil and military officials see their sovereign—and Old Sun and the brothers go to work. A lawsuit with the guilty party in hand is the kind that is easy to fight." Hearing this, the Tang monk was secretly pleased and said: "I only fear Bajie will not go." Pilgrim laughed: "See? Didn't I say you had a soft spot? How do you know he will not go? Do as I did when I called you: no answering, and half a watch is enough. Going now, I will trust to this three-inch tongue of mine. Never mind Zhu Bajie—call him Zhu Ninth-Jie, and I could still make him follow me." The Tang monk said, "Very well. Go call him."

Pilgrim left his master and went straight to Bajie's bed: "Bajie. Bajie." The Idiot, worn out from the road, had dropped off snoring for dear life; calling would not wake him. Pilgrim took an ear in one hand and the bristles in the other, hauled him up, and called: "Bajie." The Idiot still struggled and floundered. Pilgrim called again, and the Idiot said: "Sleep, will you. No fooling. We walk tomorrow." Pilgrim said, "No fooling. There is a piece of business I want you on." Bajie said, "What business?" Pilgrim said, "Did you hear what that prince said?" Bajie said, "I never saw him. I never heard anything." Pilgrim said, "The prince told me the monster keeps a treasure with the might of ten thousand men. Tomorrow we enter the city and cannot avoid crossing him. If that monster takes up his treasure and floors us, would not the whole thing turn out ugly? I say, when you cannot win the fight, strike first. You and I go steal it from him. Is that not the way?" Bajie said, "Brother, you are fooling me into thieving. Still, this business I can go on. And if it is honest help you want, let us have it plain: once the treasure is stolen and the monster beaten, I have no patience for penny-pinching splits of the spoils. The treasure is mine." Pilgrim said, "And what will you do with it?" Bajie said, "I am not clever and smooth-tongued like you, begging a meal out of people. This old pig is clumsy of body, coarse of speech, and cannot chant scriptures. When we come to some place where nothing is to be had, would not the treasure buy a meal?" Pilgrim said, "Old Sun is after a name, not any treasure. Take it, and welcome." Hearing it was all his, the Idiot was delighted clear through. He rolled up, pulled on his clothes, and set off with Pilgrim. As the saying goes: clear wine reddens a man's face; yellow gold turns a monk's heart.

The two slipped quietly out the door, away from Tripitaka, rode their lucky light, and made straight for the city. They arrived quickly, brought their cloud down, and heard the second watch sounding from the tower. Pilgrim said, "Brother, it is the second watch." Bajie said, "Just right, just right. Everyone is deep in their first sleep." Not by the front gate but straight to the rear gate—and there they heard the watch clapper and bell. Pilgrim said, "Brother, front and back gates are both tight. How do we get in?" Bajie said, "Did you ever see a thief go by the door? Over the wall and done." Pilgrim did as suggested: a bound, and he was atop the inner wall. Bajie jumped up too. The two slipped inside, found their way, and headed straight for the imperial garden.

As they went, they saw a gate tower of three white-tiered roofs, three great glittering characters on it catching the light of stars and moon: "Imperial Garden." Pilgrim looked close: layers of seals, and the lock rusted fast on the door. He ordered Bajie to work. The Idiot drew his iron rake and gave one full-strength blow, smashing the door to fragments. Pilgrim stepped in first—and could not help leaping up, shouting and hollering. Bajie, scared, pulled him back: "Brother, you will be the death of me. Ever see a thief hollering like that? Wake somebody, get us seized and hauled before the magistrate—even without a capital crime, they would ship us back home in chains." Pilgrim said, "Brother, why do you think I cried out? Look at this:

Painted railings and carved balustrades in ruins; jeweled pavilions leaning aslant.The sedge banks and smartweed shores all buried in dust; peonies and tea-roses all gone to seed.Jasmine and rose, their fragrance dead; peony and lily, blooming for nothing.Hibiscus and rose-of-Sharon gone over to weed; rare blooms and strange flowers choked and spoiled.Wrought rocks and stone peaks all toppled; the pond dry, the fish gone.Green pines and purple bamboo like kindling; fuzzy artemisia over every path.Red cassia and green peach with broken limbs; pomegranate and bush-cherry with wrenched roots.By the bridge, on the winding walk, gray moss—such is the desolation of this garden."

Bajie said, "Why stand sighing over it? Hurry and see to our business." Pilgrim, moved as he was, kept his mind on the Tang monk's dream: beneath the banana-leaf tree was the well. Walking on, he found indeed a banana tree, lush and thriving, unlike all the other flowers and trees. Truly:

A wondrous seedling, refined; born with a hollow nature of its own.Branch by branch it puts forth leaves like paper; leaf by leaf it curls a fragrant crown.A thousand slim threads of jade-green; one point of red at its heart.Forlorn, it grieves the night rain; worn, it dreads the autumn wind.The strength of good spirits raised it; the craft of creation cultivated it.Its leaf bound into a page makes a wondrous use; swung in the hand it works strange deeds.What phoenix plume could match it? The luan's tail alone comes near.Thin dew drips and drips upon it; light mist drifts over it in veils.Its blue shade screens the windows; its green shadow climbs the curtained lattice.No wild goose may roost in it; how could it bear the jade horse tethered?In frost it withers, thin and sad; in moonlight its color blurs.It can quench the summer heat, and serve to keep off the blazing sun.Shame it has no peach or plum to show for color—neglected, east of the whitewashed wall.

Pilgrim said, "Bajie, to work. The treasure is buried under the banana tree." The Idiot raised the rake in both hands and felled the banana tree. Then he snouted the ground, rooting three or four feet deep, till he came to a stone slab covering it. The Idiot was delighted: "Brother, our luck! There is a treasure—it is under a stone slab. Wonder if it is in a jar or in a chest." Pilgrim said, "Pry it up and look." The Idiot rooted it open with another snout, and looking in saw a rosy glow burning and white vapor gleaming. Bajie laughed: "Luck, luck! The treasure shines!" Looking closer: ah! It was only the light of stars and moon, mirrored in the water of the well. Bajie said, "Brother, whenever you start a job you leave out the means." Pilgrim said, "How do I leave out the means?" Bajie said, "This is a well. If you had said at the temple there was treasure in a well, I would have brought the two cords we tie bundles with, and worked out some way to let this old pig down. Now empty-handed—how do I get down there and back up?" Pilgrim said, "So you will go down?" Bajie said, "Down I must; only there is no rope." Pilgrim laughed: "Take off your clothes. I will give you a means." Bajie said, "What fine clothes have I? This robe off and that is all there is."

The Great Sage pulled out the gold-banded staff, stretched it at both ends, and called "Grow!"—a good seven or eight zhang long. He said: "Bajie, take hold of one end, and I will let you down the well." Bajie said, "Brother, let me down by all means, but stop when I reach the water." Pilgrim said, "I know." The Idiot hugged the staff, and Pilgrim lifted him lightly and let him down; before long he was at the water. Bajie said, "Water!" Pilgrim heard him—and pressed the staff down. The Idiot went under headfirst with a splash, let go the staff, and thrashed in the water, muttering: "Confounded wretch! I said stop at the water, and he pushed me under." Pilgrim drew the staff up, laughing: "Brother, any treasure down there?" Bajie said, "Treasure, my foot. Nothing but a well of water." Pilgrim said, "The treasure lies at the bottom. Dive and feel for it." The Idiot truly knew water: he took a deep dive and plunged under. Ah! The well bottom was deep. Down he went again, hard—and suddenly opened his eyes on a gateway arch, with three characters on it: "Crystal Palace." Bajie was startled: "It is over, it is over! Wrong turn—I have walked into the sea. The sea has a Crystal Palace. How would a well have one?" For Bajie did not know this was the Crystal Palace of the Well Dragon King.

While Bajie was muttering, a water-patrolling yaksha opened the gate, saw what he was, and hurried back inside to report: "Your Majesty, disaster! A monk with a long snout and big ears has dropped in from the well above, dripping wet, without a stitch of clothes—and he is not dying either; he is talking away fit to burst." The Well Dragon King heard this and was startled in his heart: "That will be Marshal Tianpeng. Last night the Night-Rambling God came with an edict from above to fetch the soul of the King of Black-Rooster to call on the Tang monk and ask the Great Sage Equal to Heaven to subdue the demon. This must be the Great Sage and the Marshal come in person. We must not slight them—out quickly to receive them."

The Dragon King straightened his cap and robes, led out his water folk, and called from the gate: "Marshal Tianpeng, please come in and sit." Only then was Bajie pleased: "Why, an old acquaintance." The Idiot, caring for nothing, marched straight into the Crystal Palace—not knowing his place, dripping as he was, and sat in the seat of honor. The Dragon King said, "Marshal, I hear of late you were spared your life, took the Buddhist order, and now guard the Tang monk west for the scriptures. How do you come to this place?" Bajie said, "Just so. My brother Pilgrim Sun sends you many greetings and sent me to ask you for a certain treasure." The Dragon King said, "Pity me. Where would a treasure come from here? I am not like the Dragon Kings of the Yangtze, the Yellow River, the Huai, the Ji—flying, changing, and rich in treasures. I have been stuck in this well forever. I hardly see sun or moon. Where would a treasure come from?" Bajie said, "No excuses. If you have one, out with it." The Dragon King said, "A treasure I do have—one I cannot bring out. Would the Marshal care to come see it himself?" Bajie said, "Fine, fine, fine. Seeing it is just the thing."

The Dragon King walked ahead and the Idiot followed. Past the Crystal Palace halls, under a corridor, lay stretched a body six feet long. The Dragon King pointed with his finger: "Marshal, there is your treasure." Bajie went up and looked: ah! A dead emperor, wearing his sky-piercing crown, his ochre-yellow robe, his carefree shoes, his Lantian jade sash, lying stiff and straight. Bajie laughed: "No, no, no. That is no treasure. Back when this old pig was a monster in the mountains I ate these for meals. Never mind how many I have seen—I have eaten past counting. And this is called a treasure?" The Dragon King said, "So the Marshal does not know. This is the body of the King of Black-Rooster. From the day he came to the well I have held him fast with the Color-Fixing Pearl, and he has not spoiled. If you will carry him out, and if the Great Sage Equal to Heaven means to bring the dead back to life—never mind a treasure: whatever you ask for, you shall have." Bajie said, "If that is how it is, I will carry him out for you. How much burial money are you paying?" The Dragon King said, "Truly, no money." Bajie said, "Free labor, is it? No money, no carrying." The Dragon King said, "Then don't carry him. Good day." Bajie turned to go. The Dragon King sent two strong yakshas, who carried the body out, set it down outside the Crystal Palace gate, took away the water-warding pearl—and the water came rushing.

Bajie spun about: no Crystal Palace gate. His hand closed on the emperor's body. Weak-legged and numb, he shot up to the surface, clung to the well wall, and cried: "Brother, lower the staff and pull me out!" Pilgrim said, "Any treasure?" Bajie said, "Treasure, nothing. At the bottom there is a Well Dragon King. He wanted me to carry a dead man, and I would not, so he threw me out the gate—and the Crystal Palace vanished, and I grabbed hold of this corpse. I am so scared my hands are limp, I cannot struggle. Brother, pull me out, do!" Pilgrim said, "That thing is the treasure. Why not carry it up?" Bajie said, "Who knows how long he has been dead. What do I want carrying him for?" Pilgrim said, "Then I am going back." Bajie said, "Back where?" Pilgrim said, "Back to the temple, to sleep with Master." Bajie said, "So I am just left here?" Pilgrim said, "Climb up and I will take you. If you cannot climb, so be it." Bajie panicked: "How could I climb? Think—even a city wall is hard to climb. This well is fat-bellied with a little mouth, walls sheer as a cliff, a well no one has drawn from in years, moss growing all round it—slippery as anything. How could I climb? Brother, don't spoil the brotherly peace. I will carry him up." Pilgrim said, "Right. Carry him up quickly, and we will go back to sleep together." The Idiot took another deep dive, found the body, dragged it over, slung it on his back, shot up to the surface, and clung to the wall: "Brother, I have got him up." Pilgrim looked: he truly had the body on his back. Then Pilgrim reached the gold-banded staff down to the well bottom. The Idiot, sore as he was, opened his mouth, bit the iron staff, and Pilgrim drew him gently up.

Bajie set the body down and fished out his clothes and dressed. Pilgrim looked: the emperor's face was as before, unchanged by a hair from life. Pilgrim said, "Brother, three years dead, and his face not spoiled—how?" Bajie said, "You did not know. The Well Dragon King told me he fixed him with the Color-Fixing Pearl, so the body never spoiled." Pilgrim said, "Luck, luck! His wrong is yet unavenged, and the success falls to us. Brother, carry him quickly." Bajie said, "Carry him where?" Pilgrim said, "Carry him to Master." Bajie grumbled as he went: "How did this happen? I was sleeping sound as could be, and this ape with his smooth talk coaxed me out on some 'business'—and now look, carrying a dead man. Carry him, and the filthy water drips down and fouls my clothes, and nobody to wash them for me. There are patches on this robe as it is; on a damp day they go moldy. How am I to wear it?" Pilgrim said, "Just carry him. Back at the temple I will get you fresh clothes." Bajie said, "Shame on you. You have not a spare yourself—how would you clothe me?" Pilgrim said, "Still jawing? Then don't carry him." Bajie said, "I will not carry him." Pilgrim said, "Then stick out your shins. Twenty strokes." Bajie panicked: "Brother, that staff is heavy. Twenty strokes and I would be just like this emperor." Pilgrim said, "If you fear the staff, shoulder him and walk, and quickly." Bajie did indeed fear the staff. In a black mood he hauled the body over, slung it on his back, and stomped out of the garden.

The Great Sage pinched the sign, spoke a spell, sucked in a breath toward the southeast quarter, and blew it out: a wild wind that whisked Bajie clear of the inner palace and away from the city. The wind dropped, the two came to earth, and walked the rest of the way slowly. The Idiot nursed his grudge, planning to pay Pilgrim back: "This monkey made a fool of me. Back at the temple I will make a fool of him: I will egg Master on—say only that he can bring the king to life. If he cannot, have Master recite the Tight-Fillet Spell and squeeze the brains out of this monkey's skull. That would suit me." Walking along, he thought it over again and again: "No good, no good. Bringing back the dead would be easy for him—he would just go to King Yama's palace and beg the soul back, and the man would live. I must say: without a trip to the land below, bring him to life here in the world above. That is the trick that counts."

Before the thought was done they reached the mountain gate, walked straight in, and dumped the body before the meditation hall door. Bajie called: "Master, get up and look at the devilment." The Tang monk had not been able to sleep; he was telling Sha Monk how Pilgrim had tricked Bajie off and was long in returning. Hearing him call out, the Tang monk rose quickly: "Disciples, look at what?" Bajie said, "Pilgrim's grandfather. This old pig carried him here." Pilgrim said, "You moldy Idiot—what grandfather have I?" Bajie said, "Brother, if he is not your grandfather, why did this old pig haul him here? And no telling what it cost me."

The Tang monk and Sha Monk opened the door and looked: the emperor's face unchanged, like a living man. The elder was stricken: "Your Majesty, who knows what enemy from a former life you met in this one—to lose your life in the dark, leaving wife and child, while the civil and military never knew and the officials never heard. Poor soul, your wife in her blindness—who has burned incense or offered tea for you?" And the tears burst out like rain. Bajie laughed: "Master, what is he to you, dead or alive? He is no father or grandfather of yours. Why weep for him?" Tripitaka said, "Disciples, for one who has left the world, mercy is the root and kindness the gate. How can you be so hard-hearted?" Bajie said, "Not hard-hearted. Brother told me he could bring him back to life. If he could not, I would never have carried him here." The elder, easily swayed, was stirred by the Idiot's talk and called: "Wukong, if you truly have the skill to bring this emperor back to life, then truly 'saving one life beats building a seven-story pagoda'—and we would have done better than worshiping the Buddha on Vulture Peak." Pilgrim said, "Master, why believe this Idiot's nonsense? Once a man is dead, by the third seven or the fifth seven, by the full seven sevens of a hundred days, once his debts of suffering in the world above are paid, he is reborn elsewhere. Three years dead now—how could I bring him back?" Hearing this, Tripitaka said, "Very well, then." Bajie's grudge would not rest: "Master, don't let him fool you—he has a wind in the brain. Just recite that spell of yours, and I guarantee he will hand you back a living man." And the Tang monk truly did recite the Tight-Fillet Spell, until the monkey's eyes bulged and his head split.

But how would he bring the king back to life? Listen to the next chapter to find out.