Wu Cheng’en (attributed) · Complete work
Chapter 59
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第五十九回 唐三藏路阻火焰山 孫行者一調芭蕉扇
若干種性本來同，海納無窮。千思萬慮終成妄，般般色色和融。有日功完行滿，圓明法性高隆。休教差別走西東，緊鎖牢籠。收來安放丹爐內，煉得金烏一樣紅。朗朗輝輝嬌艷，任教出入乘龍。
話表三藏遵菩薩教旨，收了行者，與八戒、沙僧剪斷二心，鎖籠猿馬，同心戮力，趕奔西天。說不盡光陰似箭，日月如梭。歷過了夏月炎天，卻又值三秋霜景。但見那：
薄雲斷絕西風緊，鶴鳴遠岫霜林錦。光景正蒼涼，山長水更長。征鴻來北塞，玄鳥歸南陌。客路怯孤單，衲衣容易寒。
師徒四眾進前行處，漸覺熱氣蒸人。三藏勒馬道：「如今正是秋天，卻怎返有熱氣？」八戒道：「原來不知。西方路上有個斯哈哩國，乃日落之處，俗呼為天盡頭。若到申酉時，國王差人上城，擂鼓吹角，混雜海沸之聲。日乃太陽真火，落於西海之間，如火淬水，接聲滾沸。若無鼓角之聲混耳，即振殺城中小兒。此地熱氣蒸人，想必到日落之處也。」大聖聽說，忍不住笑道：「獃子莫亂談。若論斯哈哩國，正好早哩。似師父朝三暮二的這等擔閣，就從小至老，老了又小，老小三生，也還不到。」八戒道：「哥啊！據你說，不是日落之處，為何這等酷熱？」沙僧道：「想是天時不正，秋行夏令故也。」他三個正都爭講，只見那路傍有座莊院，乃是紅瓦蓋的房舍，紅磚砌的垣牆，紅油門扇，紅漆板榻，一片都是紅的。三藏下馬道：「悟空，你去那人家問個消息，看那炎熱之故何也？」
大聖收了金箍棒，整肅衣裳，扭捏作個斯文氣象，綽下大路，徑至門前觀看。那門裡忽然走出一個老者，但見他：
穿一領黃不黃紅不紅的葛布深衣，戴一頂青不青皂不皂的篾絲涼帽。手中拄一根彎不彎直不直暴節竹杖，足下踏一雙新不新舊不舊𢯌靸䩺鞋。面似紅銅，鬚如白練。兩道壽眉遮碧眼，一張咍口露金牙。
那老者猛擡頭，看見行者，吃了一驚，拄著竹杖，喝道：「你是那裡來的怪人？在我這門首何幹？」行者答禮道：「老施主休怕我，我不是甚麼怪人。貧僧是東土大唐欽差上西方求經者。師徒四人，適至寶方，見天氣蒸熱，一則不解其故，二來不知地名，特拜問指教一二。」那老者卻才放心，笑云：「長老勿罪。我老漢一時眼花，不識尊顏。」行者道：「不敢。」老者又問：「令師在那條路上？」行者道：「那南首大路上立的不是？」老者教：「請來，請來。」行者歡喜，把手一招，三藏即同八戒、沙僧，牽白馬，挑行李近前，都對老者作禮。
老者見三藏丰姿標致，八戒、沙僧相貌奇稀，又驚又喜。只得請入裡坐，教小的們看茶，一壁廂辦飯。三藏聞言，起身稱謝道：「敢問公公：貴處遇秋，何返炎熱？」老者道：「敝地喚做火焰山，無春無秋，四季皆熱。」三藏道：「火焰山卻在那邊？可阻西去之路？」老者道：「西方卻去不得。那山離此有六十里遠，正是西方必由之路，卻有八百里火焰，四週圍寸草不生。若過得山，就是銅腦蓋，鐵身軀，也要化成汁哩。」三藏聞言，大驚失色，不敢再問。
只見門外一個少年男子，推一輛紅車兒，住在門傍，叫聲：「賣糕。」大聖拔根毫毛，變個銅錢，問那人買糕。那人接了錢，不論好歹，揭開車兒上衣裹，熱氣騰騰，拿出一塊糕，遞與行者。行者托在手中，好似火裡燒的灼炭，煤爐內的紅釘。你看他左手倒在右手，右手換在左手，只道：「熱熱熱，難吃難吃！」那男子笑道：「怕熱，莫來這裡，這裡是這等熱。」行者道：「你這漢子好不明理。常言道：『不冷不熱，五穀不結。』他這等熱得很，你這糕粉自何而來？」那人道：「若知糕粉米，敬求鐵扇仙。」行者道：「鐵扇仙怎的？」那人道：「鐵扇仙有柄芭蕉扇，求得來，一扇息火，二扇生風，三扇下雨。我們就布種，及時收割，故得五穀養生；不然，誠寸草不能生也。」
行者聞言，急抽身走入裡面，將糕遞與三藏道：「師父放心，且莫隔年焦著。吃了糕，我與你說。」長老接糕在手，向本宅老者道：「公公請糕。」老者道：「我家的茶飯未奉，敢吃你糕？」行者笑道：「老人家，茶飯倒不必賜，我問你：鐵扇仙在那裡住？」老者道：「你問他怎的？」行者道：「適才那賣糕人說，此仙有柄芭蕉扇。求將來，一扇息火，二扇生風，三扇下雨，你這方布種收割，才得五穀養生。我欲尋他討來搧息火燄山過去，且使這方依時收種，得安生也。」老者道：「固有此說，你們卻無禮物，恐那聖賢不肯來也。」三藏道：「他要甚禮物？」老者道：「我這裡人家，十年拜求一度。四豬四羊、花紅表裡、異香時果、雞鵝美酒，沐浴虔誠，拜到那仙山，請他出洞，至此施為。」行者道：「那山坐落何處？喚甚地名？有幾多里數？等我問他要扇子去。」老者道：「那山在西南方，名喚翠雲山。山中有一仙洞，名喚芭蕉洞。我這裡眾信人等去拜仙山，往回要走一月，計有一千四百五六十里。」行者笑道：「不打緊，就去就來。」那老者道：「且住，吃些茶飯，辦些乾糧，須得兩人做伴。那路上沒有人家，又多狼虎，非一日可到，莫當耍子。」行者笑道：「不用，不用。我去也。」說一聲，忽然不見。那老者慌張道：「爺爺呀！原來是騰雲駕霧的神人也。」
且不說這家子供奉唐僧加倍。卻說那行者霎時徑到翠雲山，按住祥光，正自找尋洞口，只聞得丁丁之聲，乃是山林內一個樵夫伐木。行者即趨步至前，又聞得他道：
「雲際依依認舊林，斷崖荒草路難尋。西山望見朝來雨，南澗歸時渡處深。」
行者近前作禮道：「樵哥，問訊了。」那樵子撇了柯斧，答禮道：「長老何往？」行者道：「敢問樵哥，這可是翠雲山？」樵子道：「正是。」行者道：「有個鐵扇仙的芭蕉洞，在何處？」樵子笑道：「這芭蕉洞雖有，卻無個鐵扇仙，只有個鐵扇公主，又名羅剎女。」行者道：「人言他有一柄芭蕉扇，能熄得火焰山，敢是他麼？」樵子道：「正是，正是。這聖賢有這件寶貝，善能熄火，保護那方人家，故此稱為鐵扇仙。我這裡人家用不著他，只知他叫做羅剎女，乃大力牛魔王妻也。」
行者聞言，大驚失色，心中暗想道：「又是冤家了。當年伏了紅孩兒，說是這廝養的。前在那解陽山破兒洞遇他叔子，尚且不肯與水，要作報仇之意；今又遇他父母，怎生借得這扇子耶？」樵子見行者沉思默慮，嗟嘆不已，便笑道：「長老，你出家人，有何憂疑？這條小路兒向東去，不尚五六里，就是芭蕉洞，休得心焦。」行者道：「不瞞樵哥說，我是東土唐朝差往西天求經的唐僧大徒弟，前年在火雲洞，曾與羅剎之子紅孩兒有些言語，但恐羅剎懷仇不與，故生憂疑。」樵子道：「大丈夫鑒貌辨色，只以求扇為名，莫認往時之溲話，管情借得。」行者聞言，深深唱個大喏道：「謝樵哥教誨，我去也。」
遂別了樵夫，徑至芭蕉洞口。但見那兩扇門緊閉牢關，洞外風光秀麗。好去處！正是那：
山以石為骨，石作土之精。煙霞含宿潤，苔蘚助新青。嵯峨勢聳欺蓬島，幽靜花香若海瀛。幾樹喬松棲野鶴，數株衰柳語山鶯。誠然是千年古跡，萬載仙蹤。碧梧鳴彩鳳，活水隱蒼龍。曲逕蓽蘿垂掛，石梯藤葛攀籠。猿嘯翠巖忻月上，鳥啼高樹喜晴空。兩林竹蔭涼如雨，一逕花濃沒繡絨。時見白雲來遠岫，略無定體漫隨風。
行者上前叫：「牛大哥，開門，開門。」呀的一聲，洞門開了，裡邊走出一個毛兒女，手中提著花籃，肩上擔著鋤子。真個是一身藍縷無妝飾，滿面精神有道心。行者上前迎著合掌道：「女童，累你轉報公主一聲：我本是取經的和尚，在西方路上，難過火焰山，特來拜借芭蕉扇一用。」那毛女道：「你是那寺裡和尚？叫甚名字？我好與你通報。」行者道：「我是東土來的，叫做孫悟空和尚。」
那毛女即便回身，轉於洞內，對羅剎跪下道：「奶奶，洞門外有個東土來的孫悟空和尚，要見奶奶，拜求芭蕉扇，過火焰山一用。」那羅剎聽見「孫悟空」三字，便似撮鹽入火，火上澆油，骨都都紅生臉上，惡狠狠怒發心頭。口中罵道：「這潑猴！今日來了。」叫：「丫鬟，取披掛，拿兵器來。」隨即取了披掛，拿兩口青鋒寶劍，整束出來。行者在洞外閃過，偷看怎生打扮。只見他：
頭裹團花手帕，身穿納錦雲袍。腰間雙束虎觔絛，微露繡裙偏綃。鳳嘴弓鞋三寸，龍鬚膝褲金銷。手提寶劍怒聲高，兇比月婆容貌。
那羅剎出門，高叫道：「孫悟空何在？」行者上前，躬身施禮道：「嫂嫂，老孫在此奉揖。」羅剎咄的一聲道：「誰是你的嫂嫂？那個要你奉揖？」行者道：「尊府牛魔王，當初曾與老孫結義，乃七兄弟之親。今聞公主是牛大哥令正，安得不以嫂嫂稱之？」羅剎道：「你這潑猴！既有兄弟之親，如何坑陷我子？」行者佯問道：「令郎是誰？」羅剎道：「我兒是號山枯松澗火雲洞聖嬰大王紅孩兒。被你傾了，我們正沒處尋你報仇，你今上門納命，我肯饒你？」行者滿臉陪笑道：「嫂嫂原來不察理，錯怪了老孫。你令郎因是捉了師父，要蒸要煮，幸虧了觀音菩薩收他去，救出我師。他如今現在菩薩處做善財童子，實受了菩薩正果，不生不滅，不垢不淨，與天地同壽，日月同庚。你倒不謝老孫保命之恩，返怪老孫，是何道理？」羅剎道：「你這個巧嘴的潑猴！我那兒雖不傷命，再怎生得到我的跟前，幾時能見一面？」行者笑道：「嫂嫂要見令郎，有何難處？你且把扇子借我，搧息了火，送我師父過去，我就到南海菩薩處請他來見你，就送扇子還你，有何不可？那時節，你看他可曾損傷一毫？如有些須之傷，你也怪得有理；如比舊時標致，還當謝我。」羅剎道：「潑猴！少要饒舌，伸過頭來，等我砍上幾劍：若受得疼痛，就借扇子與你；若忍耐不得，教你早見閻君。」行者叉手向前，笑道：「嫂嫂切莫多言。老孫伸著光頭，任尊意砍上多少，但沒氣力便罷。是必借扇子用用。」那羅剎不容分說，雙手掄劍，照行者頭上乒乒乓乓，砍有十數下，這行者全不認真。羅剎害怕，回頭要走。行者道：「嫂嫂那裡去？快借我使使。」那羅剎道：「我的寶貝原不輕借。」行者道：「既不肯借，吃你老叔一棒。」
好猴王，一隻手扯住，一隻手去耳內掣出棒來，幌一幌，有碗來粗細。那羅剎掙脫手，舉劍來迎。行者隨又掄棒便打。兩個在翠雲山前，不論親情，卻只講仇隙。這一場好殺：
裙釵本是修成怪，為子懷仇恨潑猴。行者雖然生狠怒，因師路阻讓娥流。先言拜借芭蕉扇，不展驍雄耐性柔。羅剎無知掄劍砍，猴王有意說親由。女流怎與男兒鬥，到底男剛壓女流。這個金箍鐵棒多兇猛，那個霜刃青鋒甚緊稠。劈面打，照頭丟，恨苦相持不罷休。左擋右遮施武藝，前迎後架騁奇謀。卻才鬥到沉酣處，不覺西方墜日頭。羅剎忙將真扇子，一搧揮動鬼神愁。
那羅剎女與行者相持到晚，見行者棒重，卻又解數周密，料鬥他不過，即便取出芭蕉扇，幌一幌，一扇陰風，把行者搧得無影無形，莫想收留得住。這羅剎得勝回歸。
那大聖飄飄蕩蕩，左沉不能落地，右墜不得存身。就如旋風翻敗葉，流水淌殘花。滾了一夜，直至天明，方才落在一座山上，雙手抱住一塊峰石。定性良久，仔細觀看，卻才認得是小須彌山。大聖長嘆一聲道：「好利害婦人！怎麼就把老孫送到這裡來了？我當年曾記得在此處告求靈吉菩薩降黃風怪救我師父。那黃風嶺至此直南上有三千餘里，今在西路轉來，乃東南方隅，不知有幾萬里。等我下去問靈吉菩薩一個消息，好回舊路。」
正躊躇間，又聽得鐘聲響亮，急下山坡，徑至禪院。那門前道人認得行者的形容，即入裡面報道：「前年來請菩薩去降黃風怪的那個毛臉大聖又來了。」菩薩知是悟空，連忙下寶座相迎，入內施禮道：「恭喜，取經來耶？」悟空答道：「正好未到，早哩，早哩。」靈吉道：「既未曾得到雷音，何以回顧荒山？」行者道：「自上年蒙盛情降了黃風怪，一路上不知歷過多少苦楚。今到火焰山，不能前進，詢問土人，說有個鐵扇仙，芭蕉扇搧得火滅，老孫特去尋訪。原來那仙是牛魔王的妻，紅孩兒的母。他說我把他兒子做了觀音菩薩的童子，不得常見，恨我為仇，不肯借扇，與我爭鬥。他見我的棒重難撐，遂將扇子把我一搧，搧得我悠悠蕩蕩，直至於此，方才落住。故此輕造禪院，問個歸路。此處到火焰山，不知有多少里數？」靈吉笑道：「那婦人喚名羅剎女，又叫做鐵扇公主。他的那芭蕉扇本是崑崙山後，自混沌開闢以來，天地產成的一個靈寶，乃太陰之精葉，故能滅火氣。假若搧著人，要飄八萬四千里，方息陰風。我這山到火焰山，只有五萬餘里，此還是大聖有留雲之能，故止住了；若是凡人，正好不得住也。」行者道：「利害，利害！我師父卻怎生得度那方？」靈吉道：「大聖放心。此一來，也是唐僧的緣法，合教大聖成功。」行者道：「怎見成功？」靈吉道：「我當年受如來教旨，賜我一粒定風丹、一柄飛龍杖。飛龍杖已降了風魔。這定風丹尚未曾見用，如今送了大聖，管教那廝搧你不動，你卻要了扇子，搧息火，卻不就立此功也？」行者低頭作禮，感謝不盡。那菩薩即於衣袖中取出一個錦袋兒，將那一粒定風丹，與行者安在衣領裡邊，將針線緊緊縫了。送行者出門道：「不及留款。往西北上去，就是羅剎的山場也。」
行者辭了靈吉，駕觔斗雲，徑返翠雲山，頃刻而至。使鐵棒打著洞門叫道：「開門，開門！老孫來借扇子使使哩。」慌得那門裡女童即忙來報：「奶奶，借扇子的又來了。」羅剎聞言，心中悚懼道：「這潑猴真有本事。我的寶貝搧著人，要去八萬四千里，方能停止；他怎麼才吹去，就回來也？這番等我一連搧他兩三扇，教他找不著歸路。」急縱身，結束整齊，雙手提劍，走出門來道：「孫行者，你不怕我，又來尋死？」行者笑道：「嫂嫂勿得慳吝，是必借我使使，保得唐僧過山，就送還你。我是個志誠有餘的君子，不是那借物不還的小人。」羅剎又罵道：「潑猢猻！好沒道理，沒分曉。奪子之仇，尚未報得；借扇之意，豈得如心？你不要走，吃我老娘一劍。」大聖公然不懼，使鐵棒劈手相迎。他兩個往往來來，戰經五七回合，羅剎女手軟難掄，孫行者身強善敵。他見事勢不諧，即取扇子，望行者搧了一扇，行者巍然不動。行者收了鐵棒，笑吟吟的道：「這番不比那番，任你怎麼搧來，老孫若動一動，就不算漢子。」那羅剎又搧兩扇。果然不動。羅剎慌了，急收寶貝轉回，走入洞裡，將門緊緊關上。
行者見他閉了門，卻就弄個手段，拆開衣領，把定風丹噙在口中。搖身一變，變作一個蟭蟟蟲兒，從他門隙處鑽進。只見羅剎叫道：「渴了，渴了，快拿茶來。」近侍女童，即將香茶一壺，沙沙的滿斟一碗，沖起茶沫漕漕。行者見了歡喜，嚶的一翅，飛在茶沫之下。那羅剎渴極，接過茶，兩三氣都吃了。行者已到他肚腹之內，現原身，厲聲高叫道：「嫂嫂，借扇子我使使。」羅剎大驚失色，叫：「小的們，關了前門否？」俱說：「關了。」他又說：「既關了門，孫行者如何在家裡叫喚？」女童道：「在你身上叫哩。」羅剎道：「孫行者，你在那裡弄術哩？」行者道：「老孫一生不會弄術，都是些真手段，實本事，已在尊嫂尊腹之內耍子，已見其肺肝矣。我知你也饑渴了，我先送你個坐碗兒解渴。」卻就把腳往下一登。那羅剎小腹之中疼痛難禁，坐於地下叫苦。行者道：「嫂嫂休得推辭，我再送你個點心充饑。」又把頭往上一頂。那羅剎心痛難禁，只在地上打滾，疼得他面黃唇白，只叫：「孫叔叔饒命。」
行者卻才收了手腳道：「你才認得叔叔麼？我看牛大哥情上，且饒你性命。快將扇子拿來我使使。」羅剎道：「叔叔，有扇，有扇，你出來拿了去。」行者道：「拿扇子我看了出來。」羅剎即叫女童拿一柄芭蕉扇，執在傍邊。行者探到喉嚨之上見了道：「嫂嫂，我既饒你性命，不在腰肋之下搠個窟窿出來，還自口出。你把口張三張兒。」那羅剎果張開口。行者還作個蟭蟟蟲，先飛出來，丁在芭蕉扇上。那羅剎不知，連張三次，叫：「叔叔出來罷。」行者化原身，拿了扇子，叫道：「我在此間不是？謝借了，謝借了。」拽開步，往前便走。小的們連忙開了門，放他出洞。
這大聖撥轉雲頭，徑回東路，霎時按落雲頭，立在紅磚壁下。八戒見了，歡喜道：「師父，師兄來了，來了。」三藏即與本莊老者同沙僧出門接著，同至舍內。把芭蕉扇靠在旁邊道：「老官兒，可是這個扇子？」老者道：「正是，正是。」唐僧喜道：「賢徒有莫大之功。求此寶貝，甚勞苦了。」行者道：「勞苦倒也不說。那鐵扇仙，你道是誰？那廝原來是牛魔王的妻，紅孩兒的母，名喚羅剎女，又喚鐵扇公主。我尋到洞外借扇，他就與我講起仇隙，把我砍了幾劍。是我使棒嚇他，他就把扇子搧了我一下，飄飄蕩蕩，直刮到小須彌山。幸見靈吉菩薩，送了我一粒定風丹，指與歸路。復至翠雲山，又見羅剎女。羅剎女又使扇子，搧我不動，他就回洞。是老孫變作一個蟭蟟蟲，飛入洞去。那廝正討茶吃，是我又鑽在茶沫之下，到他肚裡，做起手腳。他疼痛難禁，不住口的叫我做叔叔饒命，情願將扇借與我。我卻饒了他，拿將扇來。待過了火焰山，仍送還他。」三藏聞言，感謝不盡。
師徒們俱拜辭老者，一路西來。約行有四十里遠近，漸漸酷熱蒸人。沙僧只叫：「腳底烙得慌。」八戒又道：「爪子燙得痛。」馬比尋常又快，只因他熱難停，十分躁進。行者道：「師父且請下馬，兄弟們莫走。等我搧息了火，待風雨之後，地土冷些，再過山去。」行者果舉扇，徑至火邊，盡力一搧，那山上火光烘烘騰起；再一扇，更著百倍；又一扇，那火足有千丈之高，漸漸燒著身體。行者急回，已將兩股毫毛燒淨。徑跑至唐僧面前叫：「快回去，快回去。火來了，火來了。」
那師父爬上馬，與八戒、沙僧，復東來有二十餘里，方才歇下，道：「悟空，如何了呀？」行者丟下扇子道：「不停當，不停當，被那廝哄了。」三藏聽說，愁促眉尖，悶添心上，止不住兩淚交流，只道：「怎生是好？」八戒道：「哥哥，你急急忙忙叫回去是怎麼說？」行者道：「我將扇子搧了一下，火光烘烘；第二扇，火氣愈盛；第三扇，火頭飛有千丈之高。若是跑得不快，把毫毛都燒盡矣。」八戒笑道：「你常說雷打不傷，火燒不損，如今何又怕火？」行者道：「你這獃子，全不知事。那時節用心防備，故此不傷；今日只為搧息火光，不曾捻避火訣，又未使護身法，所以把兩股毫毛燒了。」沙僧道：「似這般火盛，無路通西，怎生是好？」八戒道：「只揀無火處走便罷。」三藏道：「那方無火？」八戒道：「東方、南方、北方俱無火。」又問：「那方有經？」八戒道：「西方有經。」三藏道：「我只欲往有經處去哩。」沙僧道：「有經處有火，無火處無經，誠是進退兩難。」
師徒們正自胡談亂講，只聽得有人叫道：「大聖不須煩惱，且來吃些齋飯再議。」四眾回看時，見一老人，身披飄風氅，頭頂偃月冠，手持龍頭杖，足踏鐵靿靴。後帶著一個雕嘴魚腮鬼，鬼頭上頂著一個銅盆，盆內有些蒸餅糕糜、黃糧米飯。在於西路下躬身道：「我本是火焰山土地，知大聖保護聖僧，不能前進，特獻一齋。」行者道：「吃齋小可，這火光幾時滅得，讓我師父過去？」土地道：「要滅火光，須求羅剎女借芭蕉扇。」行者去路旁拾起扇子道：「這不是？那火光越搧越著，何也？」土地看了，笑道：「此扇不是真的，被他哄了。」行者道：「如何方得真的？」那土地又控背躬身，微微笑道：
若還要借真蕉扇，須是尋求大力王。
畢竟不知大力王有甚緣故，且聽下回分解。
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the Chinese, passage for passage, covering all 100 chapters and 3,782 source paragraphs of the Traditional Chinese text.
Tripitaka Tang Is Halted on His Road by the Flaming Mountains; Pilgrim Sun Borrows the Banana-Leaf Fan a First Time
Of many a nature and seed the root is one, as the sea takes in what is without end. A thousand thoughts, ten thousand cares end in delusion; every color and form must melt into one. A day will come when the work is done and the deeds are full, the dharmic nature round and bright, lifted high. Let no difference carry you east or west: lock fast the cage. Gather them in and set them in the cinnabar furnace, and smelt them red as the golden crow. Lustrous and glowing, tender and bright — let them come out and in, riding the dragon.
Let it be told: Tripitaka, following the Bodhisattva's holy command, took Pilgrim back, and with Bajie and Sha Monk cut away the second heart, tethered ape and horse, and with one heart and joined strength pressed on to the Western Heaven. Time flies like an arrow, sun and moon speed like the shuttle — beyond telling. They had passed the burning days of summer and now came to the frosty season of deep autumn. And see:
Thin clouds are cut away, the west wind hard; cranes cry on far peaks, frost woods like brocade.The scene is bleak and bare; the mountains long, the waters longer.Migrating geese come from the northern marches; the dark swallows turn to southern fields.The traveler's road dreads loneliness; a monk's patched gown takes the cold soon enough.
As the four went forward they gradually felt a heat that steamed upon them. The Tang monk reined in: "It is autumn now — why does the heat come back?" Bajie said: "Would you knew. On the western road there is a country called Sihali, at the setting of the sun, commonly called the Sky's End. At the hour of the monkey and the cock the king sends men up the city walls to beat drums and blow horns, mixed with the sound of the boiling sea. The sun is the true fire of the great yang, and falls into the western sea — like fire plunged in water, it seethes at the sound. If the drums and horns do not fill the ears, the shock kills the little children in the city. This heat that steams on us — we must be at the place of sunset." The Great Sage heard and could not help laughing: "Idiot, no idle talk. As for the country of Sihali, we are far too early for it. At the pace the master loiters, three steps forward and two back, from youth to age, and from age to youth again — three lifetimes, young and old — you would not reach it." Bajie said: "Brother! By your telling, this is not the place of sunset — why then so fierce a heat?" Sha Monk said: "Perhaps the seasons are out of joint, and autumn keeps summer's rule." While the three were still disputing they saw by the road a farmstead: houses roofed with red tiles, walls built of red brick, doors painted red, benches lacquered red — a stretch of red throughout. The Tang monk dismounted: "Wukong, go ask at that house for news, and learn the reason of this heat."
The Great Sage put up the gold-banded staff, straightened his clothes, put on an air of breeding, turned off the great road, and came to the gate to look. From within the gate there suddenly came out an old man. See him:
He wears a deep-hemmed gown of grasscloth, neither yellow nor red; a cool hat of woven bamboo strips, neither blue nor black.In his hand a bamboo staff of swollen joints, neither crooked nor straight; on his feet slippers of hide, neither new nor old.His face is like red copper; his whiskers like white silk.Two long brows of longevity shade his green eyes; a laughing mouth shows golden teeth.
The old man looked up suddenly, saw Pilgrim, and started; leaning on his bamboo staff he shouted: "Where do you come from, you strange creature? What business at my gate?" Pilgrim returned the courtesy: "Old patron, do not fear me; I am no strange creature. This poor monk is the duly commissioned pilgrim of the Great Tang of the Land of the East, bound west for scriptures. Four of us, master and disciples, have just come to your honored country, and finding the weather steaming hot — first, we cannot make out the reason, and second, we do not know the name of the place — I have come specially to ask your instruction." Only then was the old man at ease, and he laughed: "Reverend sir, forgive me. My old eyes blurred, and I did not know your worshipful face." Pilgrim said: "No offense." The old man asked: "On which road is your master?" Pilgrim said: "Do you not see him standing on the great road to the south?" The old man called: "Ask them in, ask them in." Pilgrim, delighted, beckoned with his hand, and the Tang monk, with Bajie and Sha Monk, leading the white horse and carrying the luggage, came near and all saluted the old man.
The old man, seeing the Tang monk's fine bearing and the strange faces of Bajie and Sha Monk, was startled and delighted together, and could only ask them in to sit, told the youngsters to bring tea, and on one side had a meal prepared. The Tang monk rose and thanked him: "May I ask, venerable sir — in your honorable country autumn has come; why does the heat return?" The old man said: "This place of ours is called the Flaming Mountains. It has no spring and no autumn: all four seasons are hot." The Tang monk said: "And where do the Flaming Mountains lie? Do they bar the road west?" The old man said: "The west cannot be gone to. The mountains are sixty li from here, right in the necessary road west, and around them burn eight hundred li of flame: for an acre in every direction not a blade of grass grows. Whoever crosses those mountains, were his skull bronze and his body iron, would be melted to juice." The Tang monk heard, went pale with fright, and dared not ask again.
Then outside the gate a young man wheeled up a little red cart, halted by the door, and cried: "Cakes for sale!" The Great Sage plucked a hair, changed it into a copper coin, and bought a cake of the man. The man took the coin, and without more ado lifted the cloth from the cart — steam rising thick — took out a cake, and handed it to Pilgrim. Pilgrim held it in his hand: like a red coal burning in a fire, a red nail in a stove. See him pour it from left hand to right and from right to left, saying only: "Hot, hot, hot — past eating, past eating!" The man laughed: "If you fear the heat, do not come here; here it is just this hot." Pilgrim said: "My good man, how little you understand. The saying goes: without cold and without heat, no grain comes to ear. It is as hot as this — where does your cake flour come from?" The man said: "If you would know the rice of the cake flour, pray to the Immortal Iron Fan." Pilgrim said: "And what of the Immortal Iron Fan?" The man said: "The Immortal Iron Fan has a banana-leaf fan: get it begged of her — one wave quenches the fire, two raises a wind, three brings rain. Then we sow and reap in season, and so have grain to live on; without it, truly not a blade of grass could grow here."
Pilgrim heard and hurried inside, handing the cake to the Tang monk: "Master, be at ease; do not fret yourself pale. Eat the cake, and I will tell you." The elder took the cake and said to the old man of the house: "Venerable sir, share my cake." The old man said: "I have not yet offered you tea or a meal — how should I eat your cake?" Pilgrim laughed: "Old sir, keep your tea and meals. Tell me: where does the Immortal Iron Fan live?" The old man said: "Why do you ask of her?" Pilgrim said: "Just now the cake-seller said that immortal has a banana-leaf fan: begged of her, one wave quenches the fire, two raises a wind, three brings rain, and then your country sows and reaps in season and has grain to live on. I want to find her and beg it, to quench the flames of the Flaming Mountains and get past, and let this country keep to its seasons of sowing and reaping and live in peace." The old man said: "There is indeed such a saying — but you have no gifts, and I fear the holy one would not come." The Tang monk said: "What gifts does she want?" The old man said: "The people here go to beg of her once in ten years: four pigs and four sheep, flowers and red gifts and silks, rare incense and fruits of the season, chickens and geese and good wine — bathed and devout they go to that immortal mountain, ask her out of her cave, and bring her here to work her art." Pilgrim said: "Where does that mountain stand? What is it called? How many li? I will go ask her for the fan." The old man said: "The mountain is to the southwest, called Kingfisher-Cloud Mountain; in the mountain is an immortal cave called the Banana Cave. The faithful of this country, going to worship at the immortal mountain, walk a month out and back — one thousand four hundred fifty or sixty li." Pilgrim laughed: "No matter — I go and come." The old man said: "Wait — take some tea and food, prepare some provisions, and you must have two companions. There are no houses on that road, and wolves and tigers are many; it is not a day's journey. Do not treat it as play." Pilgrim laughed: "No need, no need. I am off." At the word he was suddenly gone. The old man, startled: "Grandfather! A spirit come on cloud and mist, no less."
To say nothing of that household doubling their care of the Tang monk. Now the Pilgrim in an instant was at Kingfisher-Cloud Mountain; he checked his auspicious light and was just looking for the cave mouth when he heard the stroke of an axe: a woodcutter felling trees in the wood. Pilgrim stepped forward, and heard him reciting:
"By the cloud's edge, dimly, the old wood is known; by the broken cliff and wild grass the path is hard to find.From the western hills one watches the morning rain; at the southern gully, returning, the ford is deep."
Pilgrim came near and saluted: "Woodcutter brother, my greetings." The woodcutter dropped his axe, returned the salute: "Which way are you bound, reverend sir?" Pilgrim said: "May I ask, brother woodcutter — is this Kingfisher-Cloud Mountain?" The woodcutter said: "It is." Pilgrim said: "Where is the Banana Cave of the Immortal Iron Fan?" The woodcutter laughed: "The Banana Cave there is, but no Immortal Iron Fan: only a Princess Iron Fan, otherwise called the Raksasi." Pilgrim said: "They say she has a banana-leaf fan that can quench the Flaming Mountains — is she the one?" The woodcutter said: "The very one, the very one. That holy one has this treasure, and quenching fire, she guards the households of this country — hence she is called the Immortal Iron Fan. We folk here have no need of her; we know her only as the Raksasi — wife of the Bull Demon King of great strength."
Pilgrim heard and went pale with fright, thinking in secret: "The enemy again. When we subdued Red Boy, they said he was this creature's son. Before, on Jieyang Mountain, at the Cave of the Ruined Child, I met his uncle, who would not so much as give water, and breathed revenge; and now I meet his father's wife — how am I to borrow this fan?" The woodcutter, seeing Pilgrim sunk in brooding and sighing without cease, laughed: "Reverend sir — you are a man of religion; what have you to brood on? This little path eastward, five or six li at most, is the Banana Cave. Do not fret yourself." Pilgrim said: "To speak plainly to you, brother woodcutter: I am the eldest disciple of the Tang monk, sent from the Great Tang of the Land of the East to fetch scriptures from the west; and two years ago at the Fire Cloud Cave I had some words with the Raksasi's son, Red Boy. I fear the Raksasi nurses the grudge and will not give — hence my doubts." The woodcutter said: "A true man reads faces and colors. Go only under the name of begging the fan; own none of your old bad blood, and you are sure to borrow it." Pilgrim heard, bowed low with a great salutation, and said: "I thank you for the lesson, brother woodcutter. I am off."
So he took leave of the woodcutter and came straight to the mouth of the Banana Cave. The two doors were shut and barred fast, and outside the cave the scenery was fair. What a place! Truly:
The mountain takes stone for bone, and stone is the essence of earth. Mist and rosy cloud hold the night's moisture; mosses deepen the new green. Its rugged mass overtops the isle of Penglai; its sequestered fragrance of flowers is like the ocean isles. A few tall pines roost wild cranes; several withered willows talk with mountain thrushes. Truly a relic of a thousand years, an immortal trace of ten thousand. On the green wutong a phoenix calls in color; in the living water a dark dragon hides. The winding path hangs thick with vines; the stone steps are wreathed in clinging ivy. Apes howl on the emerald crags, rejoicing in the risen moon; birds cry in the tall trees, glad of the clear sky. Bamboo shade in both groves is cool as rain; along one path the flowers grow so thick they drown the embroidered plush. Now and then white clouds come from far peaks — no fixed shape, drifting after the wind.
Pilgrim came up and called: "Brother Ox, open the gate! Open the gate!" With a creak the cave door opened, and out came a hairy maid, a flower basket in her hand, a hoe across her shoulder — truly one body in coarse blue without ornament, her face full of spirit, her heart set on the Way. Pilgrim met her with joined palms: "Maid, I trouble you to carry word in to the princess: I am a monk seeking scriptures; on the western road the Flaming Mountains bar us, and I have come specially to beg the loan of the banana-leaf fan." The hairy maid said: "From which monastery are you, monk? What is your name? That I may report you." Pilgrim said: "I am come from the Land of the East; I am called the monk Sun Wukong."
The hairy maid turned back into the cave and knelt to the Raksasi: "Madam, outside the cave gate is a monk from the Land of the East called Sun Wukong, asking to see you, to beg the banana-leaf fan, to cross the Flaming Mountains." At the three characters "Sun Wukong" the Raksasi was as salt thrown on fire, oil cast on flame: the red surged up her face, and fury broke from her heart. She cursed: "That brazen ape! He has come at last." She called: "Maid — my armor, and my weapons!" She took her armor at once and two precious blades of green steel, dressed, and came out. Pilgrim slipped aside outside the cave and peeped at how she was dressed. See her:
A flowered kerchief wound about her head; a quilted cloud robe on her body.At her waist a double tiger-sinew sash, a little showing the embroidered skirt's gauze.Phoenix-beak bow-shoes of three inches; dragon-whisker knee wrappings stitched in gold.A precious blade in her hand, her voice high with wrath — fell as the moon goddess's looks.
The Raksasi came out the gate and called at the top of her voice: "Where is this Sun Wukong?" Pilgrim stepped up, bowed from the waist, and said: "Sister-in-law — old Monkey is here, and bows to you." The Raksasi snapped: "Who is your sister-in-law? Who wants your bows?" Pilgrim said: "The Bull Demon King of your house was once sworn brother to old Monkey, one of the bond of seven brothers. Hearing now that the princess is the lawful wife of brother Ox, how should I not call you sister-in-law?" The Raksasi said: "You brazen ape! If we are kin of brothers, how came you to ruin my son?" Pilgrim made as if to ask: "And who is your son?" The Raksasi said: "My son is Red Boy, the Great King Holy Infant of the Fire Cloud Cave at the Withered Pine Gully on Number Mountain. You destroyed him, and we had nowhere to find you for revenge — and now you come to your own door to give up your life. Would I spare you?" Pilgrim, all smiles: "Sister-in-law, you mistake the case, and wrong old Monkey. Your son had seized my master and meant to steam or boil him; happily the Bodhisattva Guanyin took him in and saved my master. He is now at the Bodhisattva's side as the Boy of Wealth-in-Goodness, truly admitted to the Bodhisattva's holy fruit: unborn, undying, neither stained nor clean, his years the years of heaven and earth, his age the age of sun and moon. Instead of thanking old Monkey for saving his life, you blame him — what reason is that?" The Raksasi said: "You clever-tongued brazen ape! My son may not have lost his life, but how shall he ever come back to my side? When shall I see his face again?" Pilgrim laughed: "Sister-in-law, what difficulty is there in seeing your son? Lend me the fan; I will quench the fire, see my master over, and go to the Bodhisattva at the South Sea and fetch him to see you — and bring the fan back to you into the bargain. What could be fairer? Then look whether he has lost so much as a hair. If he has taken any hurt at all, you might justly blame me; if he is as fair as ever, you should thank me." The Raksasi said: "Brazen ape! Less of your tongue. Stick out your head, and let me hew at it a few strokes: if you can bear the pain, I lend you the fan; if you cannot bear it, I will send you early to King Yama." Pilgrim folded his hands and came on, laughing: "Sister-in-law, say no more. Old Monkey holds out his bare head — hack as you please, till your strength fails. Only lend me the fan to use." The Raksasi would brook no words: with both hands swinging the blade she hammered away on Pilgrim's head a dozen strokes and more, and the Pilgrim took no notice at all. The Raksasi was frightened and turned to go. Pilgrim said: "Where are you going, sister-in-law? Lend me the fan quickly, to use." The Raksasi said: "My treasure is never lightly lent." Pilgrim said: "If you will not lend it, then take one stroke of your old uncle's staff."
Good Monkey King! One hand held her; with the other he drew the staff from his ear, flourished it — thick as a bowl. The Raksasi tore free and raised her blade to meet him. Pilgrim swung the staff and struck. The two, before Kingfisher-Cloud Mountain, kinship forgot, spoke only of grudges. A fine fight:
A skirts-and-ornaments woman at root a tempered fiend, who for her son nurses hate against the brazen ape.The Pilgrim, though his wrath rose fierce, for his master's stopped road yields to the fair sex.First he spoke to beg the banana-leaf fan, showing no valor, keeping his temper soft.The Raksasi, knowing nothing, swung her blade to hew; the Monkey King deliberately spoke of ties of kin.How should a woman fight with a man? In the end the man's strength bears down the woman's.This one's gold-banded iron staff is terribly fierce; that one's frost blade, green-edged, comes thick and fast.A blow at the face, a cast at the head — bitter they hold each other, neither will stop.Warding left and parrying right they ply their arts; meeting front and blocking rear they flaunt their cunning stratagems.Just as the fight had reached its depth, the sun sank unmarked in the west.The Raksasi hastily drew out the true fan; one wave of it — ghosts and gods grew anxious.
The Raksasi and the Pilgrim held each other till evening; seeing the Pilgrim's staff heavy and his forms close-knit, she judged she could not hold against him, and so drew out the banana-leaf fan, waved it once — one blast of chill wind swept the Pilgrim clean out of sight and shape; there was no holding him. The Raksasi returned in triumph.
The Great Sage drifted and tossed: sinking left, he could not touch ground; falling right, he could not stay himself — like a whirlwind whirling dead leaves, like running water carrying spent petals. He rolled all night, and only at first light came down on a mountain, hugging a crag with both hands. When his wits had settled a long while and he looked carefully, he knew it was Little Sumeru. The Great Sage sighed: "What a terrible woman! To carry old Monkey off here of all places! I remember it was here I once begged the Bodhisattva Lingji to subdue the Yellow Wind Fiend and save my master. From Yellow Wind Ridge due south to this place is three thousand li and more; and now, come round on the western road to this southeastern corner, it must be tens of thousands of li. Let me go down and ask the Bodhisattva Lingji for news, and then take the old road back."
As he wavered, he heard a bell sound clear; he hastened down the slope to the meditation monastery. The doorkeeper there knew the Pilgrim's face and hurried in to report: "That hairy-faced Great Sage who came years ago to beg the Bodhisattva to subdue the Yellow Wind Fiend has come again." The Bodhisattva knew it was Wukong, and came quickly down from his precious seat to meet him, and greeted him within: "Congratulations — come with the scriptures?" Wukong answered: "Not there yet — early days, early days." Lingji said: "If you have not reached Thunderclap, why look back on my poor mountain?" Pilgrim said: "Since your bounty subdued the Yellow Wind Fiend last year, I do not know how many hardships we have been through. Now at the Flaming Mountains we cannot go forward; I asked the local folk, who said there is an Immortal Iron Fan whose banana-leaf fan quenches the fire, and old Monkey went specially to find her. It turns out the immortal is the Bull Demon King's wife and Red Boy's mother. She says I made her son a page of the Bodhisattva Guanyin, so that she seldom sees him, and hates me for it; she would not lend the fan, and fought me. Seeing my staff too heavy to withstand, she waved the fan at me once, and sent me drifting and tossing here before I could stop. So I have troubled this monastery to ask the way home. From here to the Flaming Mountains — how many li?" Lingji laughed: "That woman is named the Raksasi, also called Princess Iron Fan. Her banana-leaf fan is from the back of Mount Kunlun: a numinous treasure made by heaven and earth since chaos first opened, a leaf that is the very essence of the great yin — hence it can quench the breath of fire. Wave it at a man, and he must float eighty-four thousand li before the chill wind stops. From this mountain to the Flaming Mountains is barely fifty thousand li — and that is because the Great Sage has the art of halting clouds, and so was stayed. Had it been a common man, he would never have stopped at all." Pilgrim said: "Terrible, terrible! How is my master to cross that country?" Lingji said: "Great Sage, be at ease. Your coming is the Tang monk's destiny — the Great Sage is meant to bring this off." Pilgrim said: "How do you see success?" Lingji said: "Years ago I received the Tathagata's edict, and was given one grain of the Wind-Quelling Elixir and one Dragon-Flying Staff. The Dragon-Flying Staff already subdued the wind fiend. The Wind-Quelling Elixir has never yet been used; I now give it to the Great Sage, and I warrant that woman cannot stir you with her fan. Then you take the fan, quench the fire — and is that not this very achievement?" Pilgrim bowed low and thanked him without end. The Bodhisattva took a brocade bag from his sleeve, and with that grain of the Wind-Quelling Elixir set it inside Pilgrim's collar and sewed it tight with needle and thread. He saw him out the door: "I cannot keep you. Go up to the northwest — there is the Raksasi's ground."
Pilgrim took leave of Lingji, mounted the somersault cloud, and went straight back to Kingfisher-Cloud Mountain, arriving in a moment. With the iron staff he hammered at the cave door, calling: "Open! Open! Old Monkey has come to borrow the fan." The maid inside hurried in terror to report: "Madam — the one who wants the fan has come again." The Raksasi heard, and dread rose in her heart: "This brazen ape truly has powers. My treasure, waved at a man, sends him eighty-four thousand li before it stops — how has he come back the moment I blew him away? This time I will wave it at him two or three strokes running, and lose him his road home." She rose in haste, dressed herself trim, took her blade in both hands, came out the door, and said: "Sun Pilgrim — since you do not fear me, you have come again to seek death?" Pilgrim laughed: "Sister-in-law, do not be miserly. Lend me the fan by all means. Once I see the Tang monk over the mountains I will send it back. I am a gentleman whole in good faith, not a borrow-and-keep knave." The Raksasi cursed again: "Brazen ape! No reason and no shame in you. The debt of my stolen son is not yet paid — how should the lending of the fan go as you wish? Do not run — taste your mother's blade." The Great Sage, utterly unafraid, met her hand to hand with the iron staff. Back and forth the two fought five or seven rounds; the Raksasi's hand went weak and she could hardly swing, while Sun Pilgrim's body was strong and adroit. Seeing things going ill, she took out the fan and waved it at Pilgrim once — and Pilgrim stood unmoved. Pilgrim put up the iron staff and said smiling: "This is not that other time. Wave as you please: if old Monkey so much as stirs, I am no man." The Raksasi waved twice more. Truly unmoved. The Raksasi, panic-stricken, hastily put up the treasure and turned back into the cave, shutting the door fast.
Pilgrim, seeing the door shut, worked an art: he unpicked his collar and took the Wind-Quelling Elixir in his mouth. Shaking himself, he changed into a tiny gnat-fly, and slipped in through a crack of the door. There was the Raksasi calling: "I am thirsty, thirsty — quick, bring tea!" The maidservants brought a pot of fragrant tea at once and filled a bowl brimming, the froth rising high. Pilgrim rejoiced to see it, and with a hum of wings flew beneath the froth. The Raksasi, parched, took the tea and drank it in two or three swallows. Pilgrim was already in her belly; he showed his true form and called loudly: "Sister-in-law, lend me the fan to use." The Raksasi went white with fright and called: "Lads — is the front door shut?" All said: "It is shut." She said again: "If the door is shut, how does Sun Wukong stand calling in the house?" The maid said: "He is calling on your very body." The Raksasi said: "Sun Wukong, what art are you working there?" Pilgrim said: "Old Monkey in all his life has worked no art — only true craft and real strength. I am inside your honored belly, sister-in-law, having my fun; I have seen your very liver and lungs. I know you are hungry and thirsty too: first let me send you a bowl of grief to quench your thirst." And he set his foot downward. In the Raksasi's lower belly the pain was past bearing; she sank to the ground crying out. Pilgrim said: "Sister-in-law, make no excuses — next I send you a morsel to fill you." And butted upward with his head. The Raksasi's heart-pain was past bearing; she rolled on the ground, yellow of face and white of lip, crying only: "Uncle Sun, spare my life!"
Only then did Pilgrim stay his hand and foot: "Do you know your uncle now? For the sake of brother Ox I spare your life. Bring me the fan quickly." The Raksasi said: "Uncle — the fan, the fan! Come out and take it." Pilgrim said: "Show me the fan, and I will come out." The Raksasi called the maid to bring a banana-leaf fan and hold it beside her. Pilgrim worked up to her throat and saw it: "Sister-in-law — since I spare your life, I will not stab a hole below your ribs to come out by, but come out by the mouth. Open your mouth three times." The Raksasi truly opened her mouth. Pilgrim turned back into the gnat-fly, flew out first, and perched on the banana-leaf fan. The Raksasi, not knowing, opened her mouth three times running, and called: "Come out, uncle." Pilgrim showed his true form, took the fan, and called: "Am I not here? Thanks for the loan, thanks for the loan!" And strode away ahead. The maids hurried to open the door and let him out of the cave.
The Great Sage wheeled his cloud and came straight back east; in a moment he brought it down and stood beneath the red brick wall. Bajie saw him and rejoiced: "Master — brother has come, he has come." The Tang monk, with the old man of the farm and Sha Monk, came out the gate to meet him, and all went in together. He leaned the banana-leaf fan against the wall: "Old sir — is this the fan?" The old man said: "It is, it is." The Tang monk said with joy: "Worthy disciple, a mighty work. To gain this treasure — what toil!" Pilgrim said: "Of toil, no more. And that Immortal Iron Fan — do you know who she is? The creature is the Bull Demon King's wife and Red Boy's mother, called the Raksasi, also Princess Iron Fan. I found the cave and begged the fan; she began talking old grudges with me, and hewed at me a dozen strokes. I frightened her with the staff, and she waved the fan at me and sent me drifting and tossing clear to Little Sumeru. Happily I met the Bodhisattva Lingji, who gave me a grain of the Wind-Quelling Elixir and pointed out my road. Back at Kingfisher-Cloud Mountain I saw the Raksasi again; she waved the fan and could not stir me, and went back into her cave. Then old Monkey changed into a gnat-fly, flew into the cave. The creature was just calling for tea; I slipped beneath the froth, into her belly, and set my hand and foot to work. The pain was past bearing, and without pause she called me uncle and begged her life, and offered the fan freely. I spared her and brought the fan away. Once past the Flaming Mountains I will send it back to her." The Tang monk heard and thanked him without end.
Master and disciples bowed farewell to the old man and went west together. About forty li on, the heat came steaming on them gradually. Sha Monk kept crying: "The soles of my feet are scorching!" Bajie said: "The pads of my feet are scalding!" The horse went faster than common, only because it could not endure the heat and pressed on in its frenzy. Pilgrim said: "Master, dismount; brothers, stand. Let me quench the fire, and after the wind and rain, when the ground is cooler, we will cross." Pilgrim truly raised the fan, came to the edge of the fire, and waved with all his might: the mountain's flames surged up in billows; a second wave — a hundred times fiercer; another — the fire stood a thousand fathoms high, and little by little began to burn his body. He turned in haste, but the hair on both his legs was burnt clean away. He ran straight to the Tang monk and called: "Back quickly, back quickly! The fire is coming, the fire is coming!"
The master scrambled onto the horse, and with Bajie and Sha Monk came back east more than twenty li before they stopped. He said: "Wukong — what does this mean?" Pilgrim dropped the fan: "No good, no good — that creature tricked us." The Tang monk heard, worry knotted his brows and gloom settled on his heart, and the tears ran together as he said only: "What is to be done?" Bajie said: "Brother, you came hurrying us back — why?" Pilgrim said: "I waved the fan once, and the flames surged; a second time, the fire raged higher; a third, the flames flew a thousand fathoms high. Had I not run fast, every hair would have burnt away." Bajie laughed: "You are always saying thunder cannot hurt you nor fire burn — why fear fire now?" Pilgrim said: "You Idiot, you understand nothing. Then I had my wits on guard, and so was not hurt; today I was thinking only of quenching the flames, and did not pinch the Fire-Avoiding Sign, nor use the Body-Guarding art — so the hair of both my legs was burnt." Sha Monk said: "With the fire so fierce and no road west — what is to be done?" Bajie said: "Walk only where there is no fire, and be done." The Tang monk said: "Which way has no fire?" Bajie said: "East, south, and north have no fire." Asked again: "Which way has scriptures?" Bajie said: "The west has scriptures." The Tang monk said: "I want only to go where the scriptures are." Sha Monk said: "Where the scriptures are there is fire, and where there is no fire there are no scriptures — truly we are in a cleft stick, forward or back."
While the master and his disciples chatted at random, they heard someone call: "Great Sage, no need to fret. Come and take some alms first, and then we will talk." The four turned and saw an old man in a wind-swept mantle of state, an inverted-moon cap on his head, a dragon-head staff in his hand, iron-shanked boots on his feet, followed by a ghost with a carved beak and fish cheeks, a copper basin balanced on the ghost's head, in which were steamed cakes and rice gruel, yellow millet and boiled rice. He bowed by the western road and said: "I am by office the local earth god of the Flaming Mountains. Knowing the Great Sage guards the holy monk and cannot go forward, I have come specially to offer a meal." Pilgrim said: "A meal is a small matter — when will this fire go out, so that my master may pass?" The earth god said: "To quench the fire you must beg the Raksasi for the banana-leaf fan." Pilgrim went and picked the fan up from the roadside: "Is this not it? The flames burn higher the more I wave — why?" The earth god looked and laughed: "This fan is not the true one — she tricked you." Pilgrim said: "How then shall I get the true one?" The earth god bowed low, smiling faintly, and said:
If you would borrow the true banana-leaf fan, you must seek out the Great-Strength King.
But what connection the Great-Strength King had, no one could say? Listen to the next chapter to find out.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the Chinese, covering all 100 chapters and 3,782 source paragraphs of the Traditional Chinese text.
Tripitaka Tang's road is blocked by the Flaming Mountains; Pilgrim Sun makes his first attempt on the banana-leaf fan
The many natures were from the first the same, and the sea receives without end.A thousand thoughts, ten thousand cares, all end in delusion; every form and color melts together.Some day, when the work is done and the practice full, the dharma nature shines perfect and stands high.Let no difference run east or west: lock the cage fast.Gathered in and set within the elixir furnace, it is smelted red as the golden crow.Gleaming, shining, tender and bright, free to come and go riding the dragon.
The story tells that Tripitaka, following the Bodhisattva's instructions, took Pilgrim back, and with Bajie and Sha Monk cut away the second heart, chained the ape and the horse, and with one heart and all their strength hurried on toward the Western Heaven. Time flies like an arrow and the days and months shuttle past—no telling of it. They had passed the burning heat of summer, and now it was the frosty season of autumn. See:
Thin clouds break off, and the west wind blows hard; cranes call from far peaks over frosty woods like brocade.The scene is bleak and cool; the mountains long, the waters longer.Traveling geese come from the northern passes; dark swallows return to the southern fields.On the traveler's road he dreads his loneliness; his patched robe chills easily.
As the four master and disciples went forward, they gradually felt the heat steaming on them. Tripitaka reined in: "It is autumn now. Why is there such heat?" Bajie said: "You would not know. On the westward road there is a country called Sihali, the place where the sun sets—the common folk call it the Sky's End. When the hour of shen or you comes, the king sends men up on the walls to beat drums and blow horns, mixed with the sound of the boiling sea. The sun is the true fire of the great yang; it falls between the western seas, and like hot iron quenched in water it boils up at the sound. If the drums and horns did not fill their ears, the shock would kill the little children in the city. If the heat steams here, we must be near where the sun sets." The Great Sage heard and could not help laughing: "Idiot, no silly talk. As for the country of Sihali, it is still far off. With the master loitering three steps forward and two back, from young to old and from old to young again, three lifetimes of young and old, we still would not get there." Bajie said: "Brother! If it is not where the sun sets, as you say, why is it so burning hot?" Sha Monk said: "The seasons must be out of joint, autumn keeping summer's rule." The three were still disputing when they saw a farmhouse by the road—roof tiled in red, walls built of red brick, door leaves oiled red, benches lacquered red, all red everywhere. Tripitaka dismounted: "Wukong, go ask at that house what is the reason for this heat."
The Great Sage put away the gold-banded staff, straightened his clothes, screwed himself into a scholarly air, left the high road, and came to the door to look. An old man came suddenly out of the door. See him:
A kudzu-cloth gown, yellow and not yellow, red and not red; a cool hat of bamboo fiber, dark blue and not dark blue, black and not black.In his hand a bamboo staff, bent and not bent, straight and not straight, knotted with gnarled joints; on his feet a pair of slippers, new and not new, old and not old.A face like red copper; whiskers like white silk.Two long life-brows shading green eyes; a laughing mouth showing teeth of gold.
The old man looked up suddenly, saw Pilgrim, and started: leaning on his bamboo staff, he shouted: "What strange creature are you, and what do you want at my door?" Pilgrim returned the bow: "Old patron, do not fear me. I am no strange creature. I am a poor monk, sent under imperial commission from the Great Tang of the East to seek scriptures in the West. Our party of four has just reached your land; the sky steams with heat, and we cannot understand the reason, nor do we know the name of the place. I have come specially to ask your instruction." Only then was the old man at ease, and he laughed: "Reverend sir, forgive me. My old eyes blurred for a moment; I did not know your honored face." Pilgrim said: "Dare not." The old man asked: "Where is your master waiting, on which road?" Pilgrim said: "Do you not see him standing on the high road there to the south?" The old man said: "Call them in, call them in." Pilgrim, delighted, beckoned with his hand, and Tripitaka with Bajie and Sha Monk, leading the white horse and carrying the bags, came near, and all bowed to the old man.
The old man, seeing Tripitaka so fine a figure and Bajie and Sha Monk so strange of face, was startled and delighted both, and could only invite them in to sit, order the children to serve tea, and have a meal made ready. Tripitaka rose to give thanks: "May I ask you, grandfather: why is your country so burning hot in autumn?" The old man said: "Our land is called the Flaming Mountains; we have no spring and no autumn—hot all four seasons." Tripitaka said: "Where are these Flaming Mountains? Do they block the road west?" The old man said: "There is no going west. The mountains are sixty li from here, straight across the necessary road west, with eight hundred li of flame around them, where no grass grows for an inch. To cross those mountains, a man would need a brass skull and an iron body, and even he would melt to juice." Tripitaka, hearing this, turned pale with shock and dared not ask more.
Outside the door a young man was pushing a little red cart, standing by the gate, crying: "Cakes for sale!" The Great Sage pulled out a hair, changed it into a copper coin, and bought a cake from the man. The man took the coin and, caring nothing, lifted the cloth covering the cart; out of the rising steam he took a cake and handed it to Pilgrim. Pilgrim held it in his hand like a burning coal out of the fire, a red nail from the stove. See him tipping it from his left hand to his right and from his right to his left, crying only: "Hot, hot, hot! It cannot be eaten, it cannot be eaten!" The man laughed: "If you fear the heat, do not come here. Here it is always this hot." Pilgrim said: "My man, how little sense you have. As the saying goes, 'Without cold and without heat, the five grains never ripen.' It is so very hot here—where does the flour for your cakes come from?" The man said: "If you would know where the cake-flour grows, ask the Immortal of the Iron Fan." Pilgrim said: "What of the Immortal of the Iron Fan?" The man said: "The Immortal of the Iron Fan has a banana-leaf fan. Fetch it here: one wave stills the fire, a second raises the wind, a third brings rain. Then we sow and reap in season, and the five grains keep us alive. Without it, truly not a blade of grass could grow."
Hearing this, Pilgrim slipped quickly inside and handed the cake to Tripitaka: "Master, be at ease, and do not fret yourself gray. Eat the cake, and I will tell you something." The elder took the cake and offered it to the old man of the house: "Grandfather, have a cake." The old man said: "We have not yet served you tea and rice. How dare we eat your cake?" Pilgrim laughed: "Old sir, spare the tea and rice. Let me ask you: where does the Immortal of the Iron Fan live?" The old man said: "Why do you ask?" Pilgrim said: "Just now the cake seller said that immortal has a banana-leaf fan: one wave stills the fire, a second raises the wind, a third brings rain, and then your land can sow and reap in season and live on the five grains. I mean to find him, borrow it, still the flames, and cross the Flaming Mountains—and let this land sow and reap in its season and live in peace." The old man said: "Such is the story—but you have no gifts, and I fear the holy one will not come." Tripitaka said: "What gifts does he want?" The old man said: "Our households here go to beg once in ten years: four pigs, four sheep, flowers and fruit and silks, rare incense and seasonal fruits, chickens, geese, and good wine. Bathed and devout, they kneel to the immortal mountain, beg him out of his cave, and bring him here to work his art." Pilgrim said: "Where does that mountain stand? What is its name? How many li? Let me go ask him for the fan." The old man said: "The mountain is to the southwest, named Emerald Cloud Mountain. In it is an immortal cave named the Banana Cave. Our faithful here who go to worship the immortal mountain walk a month there and back—a good fourteen or fifteen hundred li." Pilgrim laughed: "No matter. I will go and be back at once." The old man said: "Wait. Eat some tea and rice, prepare some dry provisions, and take a companion. There are no houses on that road, and wolves and tigers are many. It is not one day's journey—do not make a game of it." Pilgrim laughed: "No need, no need. I am off." At the word, he suddenly was not there. The old man, flustered, cried: "Oh my! A god that rides the clouds and mist!"
Not to speak of how this household doubled its care of the Tang monk. The Great Sage in a moment was at Emerald Cloud Mountain. He checked his auspicious light and was hunting for the cave mouth when he heard a chopping sound: a woodcutter in the mountain wood, felling trees. Pilgrim hurried forward, and heard him singing:
"By the cloud's edge, lingering, I know the old wood; by the broken cliff and wild grass the path is hard to find.From the western hills I watch the morning rain come; when I return by the southern ravine, the ford is deep."
Pilgrim came near and saluted: "Brother woodcutter, my greetings." The woodcutter set down his axe and returned the bow: "Where are you bound, reverend sir?" Pilgrim said: "Tell me, brother woodcutter: is this Emerald Cloud Mountain?" The woodcutter said: "It is." Pilgrim said: "Where is the Banana Cave of the Immortal of the Iron Fan?" The woodcutter laughed: "The Banana Cave there is, but no Immortal of the Iron Fan lives there—only the Princess of the Iron Fan, also called the Raksasi." Pilgrim said: "People say she has a banana-leaf fan that can still the Flaming Mountains. Can that be she?" The woodcutter said: "It is, it is. That holy one has this treasure, which stills the fire and shields the households of this region, and so she is called the Immortal of the Iron Fan. Our people here have no use for her, and only know her by the name Raksasi, wife of the Bull Demon King of Great Strength."
Hearing this, Pilgrim turned pale with shock and thought to himself: "An enemy again. When we subdued Red Boy, they said this woman was his mother. Not long ago, at the Ruined-Children Cave on Woman-Solving Mountain, I met his uncle, and he would not even give water, meaning revenge. Now I meet his father and mother—how am I ever to borrow this fan?" The woodcutter, seeing Pilgrim sunk in thought and sighing without pause, laughed: "Reverend sir, you are a man of religion. What anxiety is this? Follow this little path eastward five or six li, and there is the Banana Cave. Do not fret." Pilgrim said: "I will not hide it from you, brother woodcutter: I am the eldest disciple of the Tang monk, sent from the Great Tang of the East to seek scriptures in the west. Two years ago at the Fire Cloud Cave I had words with the Raksasi's son, Red Boy, and I fear the Raksasi still bears a grudge and will not lend it; hence this worry." The woodcutter said: "A great man reads faces and colors. Go simply in the name of borrowing the fan; do not own up to any old quarrel, and you will surely borrow it." Pilgrim, hearing this, bowed low and deep: "I thank you for your teaching, brother woodcutter. I am off."
So he left the woodcutter and came to the mouth of the Banana Cave. The two doors were shut tight, and outside the cave the scenery was lovely. What a spot! Truly:
The mountain takes stone for its bones, and stone is the essence of the earth.Mist and glow hold the night's moisture; moss and lichen deepen the fresh green.Its towering height outdoes the Isle of Penglai; its quiet, its flower scent, like islands of the sea.A few tall pines where wild cranes roost; some withering willows where mountain thrushes talk.Truly a relic of a thousand years, immortal traces of ten thousand ages.In the green wutong trees the colored phoenix sings; in the living water the gray dragon hides.Winding paths hung with vines; stone steps wrapped in creepers.Apes howl on the green crag, glad of the rising moon; birds cry in the tall trees, happy in the clear sky.Twin groves of bamboo, cool as rain; one path of flowers so thick it buries the embroidered grass.Now and then white clouds come down from far peaks, formless, drifting with the wind.
Pilgrim came to the door and called: "Brother Bull, open up, open up!" With a creak the cave door opened, and out came a hairy maid, a flower basket in her hand, a hoe across her shoulder. Truly: ragged and unadorned from head to foot, yet bright of face, with a heart for the Way. Pilgrim met her, palms pressed: "Maid, be so good as to carry a word to the princess: I am a monk fetching scriptures, and on the westward road the Flaming Mountains bar our way. I have come specially to beg the loan of the banana-leaf fan." The hairy maid said: "From which monastery are you a monk? What is your name, that I may announce you?" Pilgrim said: "I come from the Land of the East; I am called the monk Sun Wukong."
The maid turned and went inside, knelt to the Raksasi, and said: "Mistress, at the cave door is a monk from the Land of the East called Sun Wukong, asking to see you and begging the banana-leaf fan, to use once in crossing the Flaming Mountains." At the three words "Sun Wukong," the Raksasi was like salt thrown into fire, oil poured on flame. Her face flamed red in blotches; fury boiled in her heart. She cursed: "That brazen monkey—today he comes!" She called: "Maids, my armor and my weapons!" She took her armor, took a pair of green-steel precious swords, dressed, and came out. Pilgrim, outside, dodged aside to spy how she was dressed. See her:
A kerchief of clustered flowers wound about her head; a quilted cloud-pattern brocade robe on her body.At her waist a double sash of tiger sinew, a hint of embroidered skirt and gauze peeping beneath.Phoenix-beak shoes, three inches, arched; dragon-whisker knee wraps stitched in gold.Precious sword in hand, her angry voice shrill—a face as fierce as the moon crone's.
The Raksasi came out the door and called: "Where is this Sun Wukong?" Pilgrim stepped forward, bowed low, and said: "Sister-in-law, Old Sun here, saluting you." The Raksasi snapped: "Who is your sister-in-law? Who wants your saluting?" Pilgrim said: "Your house's Bull Demon King and Old Sun were sworn brothers long ago, seven brothers in kinship. Now I hear the princess is Bull Brother's lawful wife—how could I not call her sister-in-law?" The Raksasi said: "You brazen monkey! If there was such brotherhood, how did you come to ruin my son?" Pilgrim, feigning, asked: "And who is your son?" The Raksasi said: "My son is Red Boy, the Great King Holy Infant of the Fire Cloud Cave at Withered Pine Gully on Howl Mountain. You did him in, and we have looked everywhere for you to take revenge. Now you come to my door to give up your life—do you think I will spare you?" Pilgrim's face was all apology: "Sister-in-law, you have not looked into the case; you wrong Old Sun. Your son had seized my master and meant to steam or boil him. Luckily the Bodhisattva Guanyin took him in and saved my master. He is now at the Bodhisattva's side as the boy Good Wealth, truly rewarded with the Bodhisattva's true fruit: neither born nor destroyed, neither stained nor pure, with years like heaven and earth and age like sun and moon. Instead of thanking Old Sun for saving his life, you blame him—what kind of reckoning is that?" The Raksasi said: "You glib, brazen monkey! My son's life may not be lost, but how could he ever come to my side again? When would I see his face once?" Pilgrim laughed: "Sister-in-law, what is hard about seeing your son? Lend me the fan first: I will still the fire, see my master across, then go to the Bodhisattva in the Southern Sea, fetch him to see you, and bring the fan back to you. Why not? Then you may look whether he has been hurt a hair. If he bears any wound, blame me rightly; if he is handsomer than before, you owe me thanks." The Raksasi said: "Brazen monkey, less of your tongue! Stick out your head, and let me strike a few strokes of the sword. If you can bear the pain, you shall have the fan; if you cannot, I will send you early before King Yama." Pilgrim, hands crossed, came forward smiling: "Sister-in-law, say no more. Old Sun sticks out his bare head; hack as much as you please—only stop when your strength gives out. But the fan you must lend me." The Raksasi would hear nothing: with both hands she swung her swords and hammered away at Pilgrim's head, ten strokes or more, ping and pang—and this Pilgrim took no notice at all. The Raksasi, frightened, turned to run. Pilgrim said: "Where are you going, sister-in-law? Lend me the fan quickly." The Raksasi said: "My treasure is never lent lightly." Pilgrim said: "Since you will not lend it, take your old uncle's staff!"
Good Monkey King! With one hand he held her, and with the other pulled the staff from his ear, gave it a shake—thick as a bowl. The Raksasi tore free and met him with her swords. Pilgrim swung the staff and struck. The two, before Emerald Cloud Mountain, forgot their kinship and spoke only in grudges. What a fight:
The lady of the skirts was a monster cultivated into being; for her son she bore the Pilgrim hate.Pilgrim, though his anger was fierce, for his master's blocked road yielded to the woman.First he spoke fairly, begging the loan of the banana-leaf fan; he showed no heroics, but bore and softened.The Raksasi, unseeing, swung her swords to hack; the Monkey King spoke of kinship with intent.How should a woman fight with a man? In the end man's hard press bears down the woman.This one's gold-banded iron staff is cruel and fierce; that one's frost blade, green steel, is quick and thick.Blows in the face, strikes at the head, locked together in bitter hate without stopping.Warding left, covering right, showing their arts; meeting front, parrying rear, trying their strange devices.Just as the fight reached its depth, the sun sank, unmarked, in the west.The Raksasi hurriedly took the true fan: one wave swept a dread into gods and ghosts.
The Raksasi and Pilgrim fought until evening; seeing the weight of his staff and the tightness of his play, and reckoning she could not out-fight him, she took out the banana-leaf fan, gave it one wave, and swept a gust of dark wind at him, blowing Pilgrim clean out of sight and shape, past any holding. The Raksasi went back in triumph.
The Great Sage drifted and tossed, sinking left without reaching ground, falling right without a foothold. Like a whirlwind turning dead leaves, like running water carrying broken petals, he tumbled the whole night until daybreak, when at last he fell on a mountain, hugging a boulder with both hands. When he had steadied himself a long while and looked carefully, he recognized Lesser Sumeru Mountain. The Great Sage sighed long: "What a terrible woman! How did she send Old Sun all the way here? I remember I once begged the Bodhisattva Lingji here to subdue the Wind Fiend and save my master. From Yellow Wind Ridge straight south it is three thousand li and more to this place; now, coming back on the western road to the southeast corner, who knows how many tens of thousands of li. Let me go down and ask the Bodhisattva Lingji for directions, so I can find the old road."
While he hesitated, he heard a bell ring clear. He hurried down the slope, straight to the meditation monastery. The gatekeeper Taoist knew Pilgrim's face and went inside to report: "That hairy-faced Great Sage who came years ago to beg the Bodhisattva to subdue the Wind Fiend has come again." The Bodhisattva knew it was Wukong, hurried down from his precious seat to meet him, and greeted him inside: "Congratulations! Have you come with the scriptures?" Wukong answered: "Not nearly yet. Early days, early days." Lingji said: "Since you have not reached Thunderclap, why do you look back on my poor mountain?" Pilgrim said: "Since your kindness subdued the Wind Fiend last year, we have been through hardships past counting on the road. Now we have reached the Flaming Mountains and cannot go forward. I asked the local people, who said an Immortal of the Iron Fan has a banana-leaf fan that stills the fire, so Old Sun went to look her up. The immortal, it turns out, is the Bull Demon King's wife and Red Boy's mother. She says I made her son the Bodhisattva Guanyin's boy and she cannot see him, so she hates me as an enemy and would not lend the fan, but fought me. Seeing my staff too heavy for her, she waved the fan at me once, and it sent me drifting here before I could land. So I have ventured boldly to your monastery to ask the way back. From here to the Flaming Mountains, how many li is it?" Lingji laughed: "That woman is named the Raksasi, also called the Princess of the Iron Fan. Her banana-leaf fan grew behind Mount Kunlun, a numinous treasure made by heaven and earth since chaos was first divided—the leaf of the essence of the great yin, and so it can quench the fire's breath. If it waves a man, he must drift eighty-four thousand li before the dark wind stops. From my mountain to the Flaming Mountains is only fifty-odd thousand li. It is because you have the power to hold a cloud, Great Sage, that you stopped at all; any common man would never have halted." Pilgrim said: "Terrible, terrible! How then is my master to get past that country?" Lingji said: "Great Sage, be at ease. This too is the Tang monk's karma: you are meant to succeed." Pilgrim said: "How will I succeed?" Lingji said: "Years ago the Tathagata's edict gave me one Wind-Fixing Pill and one Flying-Dragon Staff. The Flying-Dragon Staff has subdued the wind fiend. The Wind-Fixing Pill has never yet been used; I give it to the Great Sage now, and I promise that woman will not be able to wave you. Get the fan from her, still the fire—and is that not winning this merit?" Pilgrim bowed low, his thanks past counting. The Bodhisattva took a brocade pouch from his sleeve, took out the Wind-Fixing Pill, set it inside Pilgrim's collar, and sewed it tight with needle and thread. He saw Pilgrim out the door: "I cannot keep you. Go up to the northwest: that is the Raksasi's ground."
Pilgrim took leave of Lingji, rode the somersault cloud, and was back at Emerald Cloud Mountain in a moment. He hammered the cave door with the iron staff, calling: "Open up, open up! Old Sun has come to borrow the fan." The maid inside, alarmed, hurried to report: "Mistress, the fan-borrower has come again." The Raksasi, hearing, felt fear in her heart: "This brazen monkey truly has skill. My treasure, when it waves a man, carries him eighty-four thousand li before it stops. How is it he came back as soon as the wind blew? This time I will wave him two or three waves running, so he cannot find the road home." She leaped up quickly, dressed neatly, took her swords in both hands, and came out the door: "Sun Pilgrim, since you do not fear me, you have come hunting death again?" Pilgrim laughed: "Sister-in-law, do not be stingy. Lend me the fan, and once the Tang monk is over the mountains, I will return it. I am a gentleman true past measure, not the kind of sneak who borrows and does not give back." The Raksasi cursed again: "Brazen ape! Without sense or shame! The grudge for my stolen son is still unpaid—and you think borrowing the fan will go as you please? Do not run—take this old lady's sword!" The Great Sage, utterly unafraid, met her with the iron staff. The two came and went, fighting five or seven rounds, till the Raksasi's hands went soft and the staff was hard to lift, while Sun Pilgrim was strong and ready. Seeing how things stood, she took the fan and waved it at Pilgrim—and Pilgrim stood unmoved. He put away the iron staff and said with a smile: "This is not like the last time. Wave as you please; if Old Sun moves a hair, I am no man." The Raksasi waved twice more. Truly he did not move. Alarmed, the Raksasi snatched up her treasure and turned back, hurried into the cave, and shut the door tight.
Seeing the door shut, Pilgrim played a trick: he unpicked his collar, took the Wind-Fixing Pill into his mouth, shook himself, changed into a tiny midge, and slipped in through the crack of the door. The Raksasi was calling: "Thirsty, thirsty—bring tea quickly." The maid in attendance brought a pot of fragrant tea and filled a bowl brimming, the froth rising. Pilgrim, delighted, flew with one whir of his wings under the froth. The Raksasi, thirsting, took the bowl and drank it off in two or three swallows. Pilgrim was already in her belly; he showed his true form and called at the top of his voice: "Sister-in-law, lend me the fan." The Raksasi, pale with shock, called: "Lasses—is the front door shut?" They all said: "Shut." She said: "If the door is shut, how does Sun Wukong shout inside the house?" The maid said: "He is shouting inside you." The Raksasi said: "Sun Wukong, where are you playing your tricks?" Pilgrim said: "Old Sun has never played tricks in his life—only real skill and true strength. I am inside your honored belly amusing myself; I have seen your lungs and liver. I know you are hungry and thirsty too, so first let me send you a bowl to sit on, to wet your throat." And he stamped his foot down. The Raksasi's lower belly gripped with unbearable pain, and she sat on the ground crying out. Pilgrim said: "Sister-in-law, do not refuse me. Now let me send you a pastry to fill your belly." And he butted his head upward. The Raksasi's heart pained past bearing; she rolled on the ground, her face yellow, her lips white, crying only: "Uncle Sun, spare my life!"
Pilgrim then stopped his handiwork and said: "Do you know your uncle now? Out of regard for Brother Bull, I will spare your life. Hand me the fan quickly." The Raksasi said: "Uncle, the fan, the fan—come out and take it." Pilgrim said: "Show me the fan, and I will come out." The Raksasi called the maid to bring a banana-leaf fan and hold it at her side. Pilgrim felt his way up to her throat and saw it: "Sister-in-law, since I spare your life, I will not punch a hole out under your ribs; I will come out by the mouth. Open your mouth three times." The Raksasi truly opened her mouth. Pilgrim, still in his midge shape, flew out first and lighted on the banana-leaf fan. The Raksasi, not knowing, opened her mouth three times and called: "Come out, uncle." Pilgrim showed his true form, took the fan, and called: "Am I not here? Many thanks for the loan, many thanks!" He strode off toward the door. The maids hurried and opened the door, and let him out of the cave.
The Great Sage turned his cloud, headed back east, and in a moment pressed it down and stood below the red brick walls. Bajie saw him and cried with joy: "Master, big brother has come, he has come!" Tripitaka came out with the old man of the house and Sha Monk to meet him, and they went in together. Pilgrim leaned the banana-leaf fan against the wall: "Old gentleman, is this the fan?" The old man said: "It is, it is." The Tang monk said with joy: "Good disciple, what a great deed. Fetching this treasure must have cost you dear." Pilgrim said: "Never mind the cost. And do you know who the Immortal of the Iron Fan is? She is the Bull Demon King's wife and Red Boy's mother, named the Raksasi, also called the Princess of the Iron Fan. I went to her cave to borrow the fan, and she brought up our old grudge and hacked at me with her swords. I scared her with my staff, and she waved the fan at me once, and it sent me drifting clean to Lesser Sumeru Mountain. Luckily I met the Bodhisattva Lingji, who gave me a Wind-Fixing Pill and showed me the road back. I went again to Emerald Cloud Mountain and saw the Raksasi again. She waved the fan at me and could not move me, so she went back into her cave. So Old Sun changed into a tiny midge and flew into the cave. She was just asking for tea, and I slipped under the froth, into her belly, and went to work. She could not bear the pain, and called me uncle over and over, begging her life and offering the fan willingly. So I spared her and brought the fan away. Once we are over the Flaming Mountains, I will return it to her." Tripitaka, hearing, gave thanks past counting.
Master and disciples all took leave of the old man with bows and went west. After some forty li the heat rose and steamed on them. Sha Monk only cried: "My soles are searing!" And Bajie said: "My trotters are scorched and aching!" The horse went faster than usual, for the heat gave him no rest and drove him on. Pilgrim said: "Master, please dismount. Brothers, stand still. Let me still the fire, and when wind and rain have passed and the ground is cooler, we will cross." Pilgrim truly raised the fan, went to the edge of the fire, and waved with all his might—and the flames on the mountain leaped up roaring; a second wave and they were a hundred times fiercer; a third wave and the fire stood a thousand zhang high, and the flames were creeping toward his body. Pilgrim turned and ran, with the hair on both haunches burned clean away. He ran straight to the Tang monk, crying: "Back, back quickly! The fire is coming, the fire is coming!"
The master scrambled onto his horse, and with Bajie and Sha Monk came back east twenty li and more before they stopped. He said: "Wukong, what happened?" Pilgrim dropped the fan: "No good, no good. That woman tricked me." Tripitaka heard, and sorrow creased his brows and gloom settled on his heart; two streams of tears ran together, and he said only: "What are we to do?" Bajie said: "Brother, what did you mean, hurrying us back in such a panic?" Pilgrim said: "I waved the fan once, and the flames roared; a second wave, and the fire burned hotter; a third, and the flame flew a thousand zhang high. Had I not run fast, it would have burned off every hair." Bajie laughed: "You always said thunder could not hurt you nor fire scorch you—why fear fire now?" Pilgrim said: "You idiot, you understand nothing. In those days I kept my guard up, and so was not hurt. Today I was only thinking to still the flames, and did not press the fire-avoiding sign or use the body-guarding art, and so the hair on both haunches was burned." Sha Monk said: "With such fire, and no road west, what are we to do?" Bajie said: "We could simply walk where there is no fire." Tripitaka said: "And where is there no fire?" Bajie said: "East, south, north—no fire in any of them." The elder asked: "And where are the scriptures?" Bajie said: "In the west." Tripitaka said: "I mean only to go where the scriptures are." Sha Monk said: "Where the scriptures are there is fire, and where there is no fire there are no scriptures—truly a case of stuck between going on and turning back."
While master and disciples talked at random, they heard a voice call: "Great Sage, do not be troubled. Come and eat a meal first, and then take counsel." The four turned and saw an old man, wrapped in a wind-blown cloak, capped with a crescent-moon cap, a dragon-head staff in his hand, iron-shanked boots on his feet, followed by a goblin with a hawk's beak and fish cheeks, a copper basin on his head, in the basin steamed cakes and gruel and millet and rice. He bowed by the west road and said: "I am the local earth god of the Flaming Mountains. Knowing the Great Sage guards the holy monk and cannot go forward, I have brought a meal." Pilgrim said: "A meal is a small matter. When will this fire go out, and let my master pass?" The earth god said: "To put out the fire you must beg the Raksasi to lend the banana-leaf fan." Pilgrim picked the fan up from the roadside: "Is not this it? Yet the flames burn the more for every wave—why?" The earth god looked and laughed: "This fan is not the true one; she tricked you." Pilgrim said: "How then do I get the true one?" The earth god bowed low again and said, smiling faintly:
"If you would borrow the true banana fan,you must seek out the Bull Demon King of Great Strength."
But what business the Bull Demon King of Great Strength had in it—listen to the next chapter to find out.