Chapter 68

Tripitaka Speaks of Former Lives in the Kingdom of Zhuzi; Pilgrim Sun Proves That Practice Makes a Healer

All blessings gather where goodness is true;Honor spreads throughout the four continents.Wisdom's light reaches the further shore;Clouds rise softly across the edge of heaven.All Buddhas share their gifts,Dwelling forever upon jeweled terraces.Break the butterfly dream of earthly life;Wash the dust away, and be free from care.

Having passed through the filthy alley onto a free and easy road, Tripitaka and his disciples journeyed on. Time flew; summer's heat arrived. It was a season when:

Pomegranate flowers open like embroidered balls;Lotus leaves unfold like green plates.Young swallows shelter among willows by the road;Travelers fan themselves to ward off heat.

A city came into view. Tripitaka reined in his horse. “Disciples, what is that place?” “Master, you must be unable to read,” Pilgrim said. “How did you come to lead a mission for the Tang king?” “Since childhood I have studied thousands of scriptures. How can you say I cannot read?” “Then why ask about the city? There are three large characters on that apricot-yellow banner above it.” “Brazen ape! The flag is flapping in the wind. How could anyone read it?” “I can.” “Don't listen to him, Master,” said Bajie and Sha Monk. “The city itself is still indistinct at this distance. How can he read the writing?” “It says ‘Kingdom of Zhuzi,’” Pilgrim answered. “Then we will need the king to stamp our papers,” Tripitaka said. “Of course,” said Pilgrim.

Before long they dismounted, crossed a bridge, and passed through three gates into the capital. A fine royal city:

High gate towers rise over orderly battlements;Running water encircles the walls, mountains face each other north and south.Goods fill the six streets and three markets;Business thrives in thousands upon thousands of homes.Truly a royal capital, a great city blessed by heaven.Ships and caravans arrive from the edges of the world;Distant countries offer jade and silk.Its strong position reaches far among the hills;Its palace walls rise toward the clear stars.Three fortified gates are securely barred;May peace endure through all ages.

On the broad market street, the people carried themselves proudly, dressed neatly, and spoke clearly; the city was no less splendid than Tang. When merchants saw Bajie's ugly face, Sha Monk's tall dark figure, and Pilgrim's hairy face, they abandoned their stalls to stare. “Keep your heads down and don't start trouble,” Tripitaka urged. Bajie tucked his lotus-bud snout against his chest; Sha Monk kept his eyes low. Only Pilgrim looked about as he followed his master. Sensible people moved on after a glance, but idlers and unruly children laughed and threw tiles and bricks to tease Bajie. Tripitaka broke into a sweat, begging them not to cause trouble, and the Idiot did not raise his head.

Around a corner they saw a gate marked “Hostel for Visiting Envoys.” “We should go in,” Tripitaka said. “Why?” asked Pilgrim. “This hostel receives guests from across the world. We may rest there while I meet the king to renew our papers, then leave the city.” Bajie lifted his snout, startling a dozen spectators into falling over. “Master is right. Let's shelter inside from this noisy crowd.” Once they entered, the crowd dispersed.

The hostel's chief and deputy envoys were checking a list of servants for a visiting official. At sight of Tripitaka they called, “Who are you? Where are you going?” He folded his hands. “I am a monk sent from Great Tang to seek scriptures in the west. I cannot cross your realm without permission. May I rest here briefly while my papers are inspected?” The envoys sent their attendants away, straightened their caps and belts, and descended to greet him. They ordered a guest room cleaned and vegetarian food prepared, then left with their servants. An attendant showed the travelers their room. “Why won't these lazy officials let us sit in the main hall?” Pilgrim complained. “This country is neither a Tang possession nor our neighbor,” Tripitaka said. “Senior officials and guests pass through often; they cannot receive us there.” “They will, if I have my way,” said Pilgrim.

A steward brought a tray of white rice, flour, two bundles of greens, four pieces of tofu, two pieces of wheat gluten, dried bamboo shoots, and wood-ear mushrooms. Tripitaka thanked him. “There is a clean stove, pots, and firewood in the western room. You may cook there.” “Is the king in court?” Tripitaka asked. “Our sovereign has not attended court for some time. Today is an auspicious day, and he has come to discuss a royal proclamation with his ministers. If you need your papers stamped, hurry and you may still catch him. By tomorrow he may be absent for who knows how long.” “Wukong, prepare the meal. I'll have the papers checked and return to eat before we leave.” Bajie brought his cassock and documents. Tripitaka dressed and went to court, warning his disciples not to cause trouble outside.

He soon reached the Five-Phoenix Tower amid lofty palaces. At the palace gate he asked an official to report his request. A court officer announced, “A monk sent from Great Tang in the east seeks scriptures at the Thunderclap Monastery in the west. He asks Your Majesty to renew his travel papers.” “After a long illness,” said the pleased king, “I have come to court today to summon a physician. Now a holy monk has arrived as well.” He had Tripitaka admitted. The elder bowed at the foot of the stairs. The king invited him to sit in the golden hall and ordered a vegetarian meal. Thanking him, Tripitaka presented his papers.

After reading them, the king asked, “Master, how many generations of upright kings and worthy ministers has Tang known? And why did your king fall ill and return to life, sending you across mountains and rivers for scriptures?” The elder bowed and began:

“The Three Sovereigns ruled the world; the Five Emperors set its orders.Yao and Shun held the throne; Yu and Tang brought peace to the people.The sons of Zhou grew numerous and raised their own realms;The strong oppressed the weak and claimed kingship.Eighteen lords divided the borderlands;At last twelve brought the world a measure of peace.Without chariots and horses they swallowed one another still;Seven powers fought until six kingdoms fell to Qin.From the lands of Lu and Pei came men of fierce ambition;The realm passed to Han, whose laws commanded respect.Han yielded to Sima; Jin dissolved into strife;North and south were divided among twelve houses:Song, Qi, Liang, and Chen succeeded one another;At length Great Sui restored the line.Its pleasure-loving ruler cared nothing for the people,And many suffered bitterly.Our king's house bears the name Li and rules as Tang.After Gaozu died, Shimin became our sovereign.Rivers run clear, seas rest calm; his virtue is generous.But near Chang'an a strange dragon of the watersWithheld the sweet rain and was fated to die.In a dream at night he begged the king for help;The king agreed and summoned a worthy minister.He kept him at court, playing chess until noon,But the minister beheaded the dragon in a dream.”

The king gave a pained groan. “Where did that minister come from?” “He is our king's chancellor, Wei Zheng, learned in stars, earth, yin and yang: a great minister who brings order to the realm. When he killed the Dragon King of the Jing River in his dream, the dragon accused our king before the judges below: the king had promised to save him but had him slain. Our king fell dangerously ill. Wei Zheng gave him a letter for Judge Cui Jue of Fengdu in the underworld. The Tang king died, but returned after three days. Thanks to Wei Zheng's letter, Judge Cui amended the register and gave him twenty additional years. Now he is holding a great rite for the living and the dead. He sent me far through many countries for the three collections of Mahayana scripture from the Buddha, to deliver suffering souls to heaven.” The king groaned again. “Yours is a mighty country with a just king and worthy ministers. I have been ill a long time, and no minister can save me.” Tripitaka looked closely: the king was yellow-faced and thin, his strength and spirit diminished. He was about to ask more when the royal kitchens announced the meal. The king had it served with his own food in the Fragrant Palace and dined with Tripitaka.

At the hostel Pilgrim told Sha Monk to make tea, rice, and vegetables. “Rice is easy,” said Sha Monk, “but we have no oil, salt, sauce, or vinegar.” “I have a little money. Bajie can buy some.” “I won't go. My face is ugly and I may cause trouble, then Master will blame me.” “We're paying, not begging or robbing. What trouble?” “When I lifted my snout outside, a dozen people fell over. How many would I frighten in a crowded market?” “Did you notice what they sell there?” “Master told me to keep my head down. I saw nothing.” “Apart from wine shops, rice sellers, mills, silks, and other goods, there are tearooms, noodle shops, fine flatbreads and great buns, restaurants with rich rice soups, spices and vegetables, rare sweet cakes, steamed pastries, snacks, fried and honeyed treats, and more than I could count. Shall I buy you some?” Bajie began to salivate. “Brother, I'll accept your treat! I'll return it when I have some money.” Pilgrim laughed to himself. “Cook the rice, Sha Monk. We'll buy seasonings.” Sha Monk understood the trick and told them to buy plenty. Bajie took a bowl and followed Pilgrim outside. Two attendants directed them west along the street past the corner by the Drum Tower to Zheng's general store for oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, ginger, pepper, and tea.

They walked west, arm in arm. Pilgrim passed several tearooms and restaurants without buying anything. “Let's buy some food here,” Bajie urged. Pilgrim wanted only to tease him. “Be a discerning shopper. Let's find the best.” They drew a crowd of onlookers as they walked. At the Drum Tower the street was packed. “I'm not going,” Bajie said. “Perhaps they're arresting monks, and as strangers we'll be suspect.” “Monks have broken no law. Let's pass through to Zheng's shop.” “No! In that crowd my ears would strike people and frighten them. If someone dies in the crush, I'll be blamed.” “Wait against this wall while I buy what we need. I'll bring you noodles and bread.” Bajie gave him the bowl and stood with his snout against the wall, facing away and refusing to move.

Pilgrim pushed through the crowd by the tower. A royal notice had just been posted. Reading it closely with his fiery eyes, he saw:

“I, the King of Zhuzi in Western Continent, have governed a peaceful realm since taking the throne. Recently I have been confined to bed by a severe illness that has long resisted cure. The royal physicians have tried many remedies without success. I therefore invite wise and skillful physicians from anywhere in the world, from China or abroad, to my palace to treat me. Should my health improve, I pledge to share half my realm with the healer. This promise is sincere. Let this proclamation be posted for all to see.”

Pilgrim rejoiced. “As they say, ‘Going out brings you some luck.’ Good thing I didn't sit in the hostel. We can forget the seasonings and delay the scripture journey for a day. I'll try being a physician.”

The Great Sage stooped, dropped the bowl, tossed a pinch of earth upward, recited a spell, and turned invisible. He took down the notice, blew immortal breath toward the southeast, and raised a whirlwind that scattered the crowd. At the wall Bajie seemed asleep with his snout pressed against it. Pilgrim quietly folded the paper, slipped it into the Idiot's robe, and returned to the hostel.

The people by the tower had covered their heads and shut their eyes in the wind. When it passed, the notice was gone. Twelve eunuchs and twelve guards had posted it that morning, less than three hours before. Searching desperately, they saw a corner of paper in Bajie's robe. “Did you take the notice?” Bajie lifted his head and thrust out his snout, making several guards stumble and fall. As he turned away, braver men seized him. “You took the proclamation for physicians. Come treat our king!” “Your son took the notice; your grandson knows medicine,” Bajie retorted. “What's in your robe?” He looked down and found the paper. Opening it, he cursed, “That monkey will be the death of me!” He tried to tear it, but the guards stopped him. “You'll die if you damage the king's proclamation! You must know how to cure him. Come with us.” “You don't understand. My brother Sun Wukong took it and hid it in my clothes. He left me here. Let me find him.” “You have the notice. Why would we seek someone else?” They pushed and pulled, but Bajie planted his feet like roots and ten men could not move him. “Keep pulling, and when my stubborn nature wakes, don't blame me.”

A crowd gathered. Two older eunuchs asked, “With such a strange face and voice, where are you from, and why act so rudely?” “We come from the east for scriptures in the west. Our master is a monk, sworn brother of the Tang king; he has gone to court to renew our papers. My brother and I came to shop, but I waited here because of the crowd. He took the notice by conjuring a wind, slipped it into my clothes, and left.” “I saw a fair-faced, plump monk go to the palace,” said a eunuch. “Was that your master?” “Yes.” “Where did your brother go?” “The other three of our party, horse, and baggage are at the Hostel for Visiting Envoys. He has gone back there.” “Stop dragging him,” the eunuch told the guards. “We'll go to the hostel and find out.” “You two grannies have good sense,” Bajie said. “Why call these gentlemen grannies?” the guards demanded. “They look like old women, so why should I call them gentlemen?” “Enough. Take us to your brother.”

Several hundred people noisily followed them to the hostel. “Wait,” Bajie warned. “My brother will not endure your jokes as I have. Bow respectfully and call him Lord Sun, or he'll show you another face and this business will come to nothing.” “If he cures the king and receives half the kingdom, we ought to bow,” the eunuchs and guards agreed.

The crowd remained outside while Bajie led the officials into the guest room. Pilgrim and Sha Monk were laughing about the stolen notice. “What sort of brother are you?” Bajie shouted. “You promised me noodles and bread, then raised a whirlwind and hid the king's notice in my clothes to make me look like a doctor!” “Idiot, you must have wandered away. I bought the seasonings at the Drum Tower and came back when I couldn't find you. What notice?” “Here are the officials.” The eunuchs and guards bowed. “Lord Sun, Heaven has blessed our king by bringing you here. Please use your healing skill to restore his health; he has promised half his kingdom.” Pilgrim grew grave, took the proclamation from Bajie, and asked if these men were the officials who had guarded it. “We are palace eunuchs and royal guards.” “I did take it and sent my brother to bring you here. If your king is ill, he must ask me himself. As the saying goes, ‘Do not sell medicine lightly or beg to treat a patient.’ If he comes, I can cure him as soon as I touch him.” The officials were startled. “Such confidence must rest on skill. Some of us will remain and invite him to wait while the rest report to the king.”

Four eunuchs and six guards entered court without awaiting a summons. “Great joy, Your Majesty!” The king had finished eating with Tripitaka and was talking with him. “What joy?” “We posted your call for physicians at the Drum Tower this morning. Elder Sun, a holy monk from Tang traveling for scriptures, has taken it. He is at the Hostel for Visiting Envoys and asks that you invite him yourself; he says he can cure you at a touch.” Delighted, the king asked Tripitaka how many disciples he had. “Three rough disciples,” he replied. “Which knows medicine?” “Your Majesty, they are men of the wilds. They carry baggage, tend the horse, find crossings and paths, and help me over mountains. In dangerous places they can subdue monsters, tigers, and dragons, but none knows medicinal herbs.” “You are modest, Master. That you arrived the very day I posted the notice must be fate. Why would your disciple take it and ask to see me unless he could heal me?” He turned to the court. “I am too weak to ride out. Go in my place and invite Elder Sun with all respect. Call him ‘Divine Monk Elder Sun’ and honor him as you would me.”

The ministers went with the eunuchs and guards and bowed in rows at the hostel. Bajie hid in another room; Sha Monk shrank against the wall. The Great Sage sat still in their midst. “That monkey lets all these officials bow without rising!” Bajie grumbled. After their salute, the ministers said, “Divine Monk Elder Sun, our king sends us to invite you to court to examine him.” Pilgrim rose. “Why has he not come?” “He is too weak to ride and has sent us to bow in his place.” “Go ahead. I will follow.” As the ministers formed their procession, Pilgrim straightened his robe. “Don't name us,” Bajie whispered. “I won't. But the two of you must receive medicines for me.” “What medicines?” asked Sha Monk. “Whatever people bring. Keep them until I return.” They agreed.

The ministers reported his arrival. The king drew up the pearl curtain, looked out, and asked, “Which is Divine Monk Elder Sun?” “I am,” Pilgrim called, stepping forward. His harsh voice and sharp features frightened the king, who fell back onto his throne. Palace women and eunuchs helped him inside. “He frightened me half to death!” The ministers reproached Pilgrim. “How can this coarse monk have taken down the proclamation?”

“You misjudge me,” Pilgrim laughed. “If he scorns a physician like this, your king will not recover in a thousand years.” “No one lives that long,” the ministers said. “He is a sick king now, a sick ghost after death, and when born again will still be a sick man. A thousand years won't cure him.” “How rude! Why talk such nonsense?” “Listen to me,” Pilgrim answered:

“Medicine's principles are subtle and profound;A healer must be quick and resourceful.To look, to listen, to question, and to feel the pulse:Without all four, his judgment is incomplete.First observe the spirit and the complexion,Whether the patient is flushed or pale, stout or thin, how he wakes and sleeps;Second hear if his voice is clear or rough,Whether his speech is lucid or wild;Third ask when the sickness began,What he eats and drinks, and how his bowels work;Fourth feel his pulse along its channels,Distinguishing strong and weak, inner and outer ailments.If I may not look, listen, question, and feel,He cannot hope for peace in this life.”

A royal physician among the officials said, “He speaks rightly. Even an immortal physician must observe, listen, question, and feel the pulse. These are the four arts of diagnosis.”

The ministers had a servant report that Elder Sun required those four methods. From his bed the king called, “Send him away. I cannot bear to see a stranger.” When the servant told Pilgrim, he said, “Then I'll feel his pulse through threads.” The officials were pleased. “We've heard of that, but never seen it. Report his offer.” Hearing that Elder Sun could diagnose him without entering his sight, the king thought, “After three years' illness, I have never tried it. Admit him.”

Pilgrim entered the main hall. “Brazen ape, you've brought disaster upon me!” Tripitaka cried. “I'm enhancing your reputation, Master. Why call it disaster?” “When have you ever cured anyone? You know nothing of medicines or medical books. How dare you take on this danger?” “I know some simple prescriptions that cure serious illness. I'll heal him. And even if I kill him, they can charge me only as an incompetent physician, not execute me. What are you afraid of? Watch me take his pulse.” “Have you ever read the Inner Classic, the Classic of Difficult Issues, the Materia Medica, or the Pulse Manual, let alone studied their explanations? How can you diagnose him by a thread?” “I have golden threads with me.” He plucked three hairs from his tail, rolled them between his fingers, and cried, “Change!” They became three threads, each twenty-four feet long for the twenty-four seasonal divisions. “See, Master?” A eunuch urged him to stop talking and come examine the king. Pilgrim left Tripitaka and entered the inner palace. Truly:

His heart holds secret means to heal a kingdom;Within him lies the art of lengthening life.

What disease would he discover, and what remedy prescribe? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

In the Kingdom of Vermilion Purple the Tang monk Recounts the Ages; Pilgrim Sun Shows the Skill of the Arm Broken Three Times

When the good and the true gather in the ten thousand ties, fame is carried through the four continents.The brightness of wisdom lands on the farther shore; whoosh—dark clouds pile up at the sky's rim.All the Buddhas answer one another; forever they dwell on the jade terrace through endless autumns.Break the butterfly dream of the world of men—enough, enough: wash the dust clean and court no sorrow.

Now Tripitaka and his disciples, having washed out the filthy lane, took the open road; time flew, and it was burning summer again. And so it was:

Pomegranate trees unroll their brocade balls; lotus leaves burst open like green plates.On both roads green willows hide the young swallows; travelers fleeing the heat wave silk fans.

As they went forward, a city wall came near. Tripitaka reined in and called: "Disciples, what place is that?" Pilgrim said: "So Master cannot read—how did you ever carry the Tang emperor's decree out of court?" Tripitaka said: "A monk since childhood, versed in a thousand scriptures—how can you say I cannot read?" Pilgrim said: "If you can read, why did you not know the three great characters on that apricot-yellow banner over the city gate, and ask what place it is?" Tripitaka snapped: "Brazen monkey, nonsense. The wind whips that banner about; even with writing on it, who could read it?" Pilgrim said: "And why can old Sun read it?" Bajie and Sha Monk said: "Master, do not listen to your disciple's tricks. From this far off we cannot see the city clearly—how could he read writing?" Pilgrim said: "Are the words not 'Kingdom of Vermilion Purple'?" Tripitaka said: "The Kingdom of Vermilion Purple must be a royal state of the Western regions; we must have our papers changed." Pilgrim said: "Say no more."

Soon they reached the gate, dismounted, crossed the bridge, and went in through the three layers of gates—truly a royal city. And they saw:

Gate towers rose sheer; battlements stood ranked in order.Living water flowed all round; high mountains faced each other north and south.The six streets and three markets were rich in goods; ten thousand households traded and thrived.Truly a seat of kings, a great capital, heaven's own storehouse.From farthest lands came ships by sea and caravans by land; from distant quarters jade and silk poured in.Its strong position linked to far mountains; its palace walls touched the clear Milky Way.Its three passes kept strict under lock and key; through ten thousand ages it rejoiced in peace.

Walking up the great market street, they saw people of fine bearing, neat in cap and gown, their speech clear—truly no less than the world of Great Tang. The sellers and buyers on both sides, suddenly seeing Zhu Bajie's ugly face, Sha Monk's black skin and tall body, and Sun the Pilgrim's hairy cheeks and bony brow, dropped their trade and crowded to stare. Tripitaka kept calling: "Make no trouble; walk with your heads down." Bajie obeyed and stuffed his lotus-seedpod snout into his breast; Sha Monk dared not look up; only Pilgrim looked this way and that, close at the Tang monk's side. The sensible ones among them looked a while and went their way; but the idle and the urchins swarmed and jeered, and came up throwing tiles and bricks to make sport of Bajie. The Tang monk sweated with fright, calling only: "Make no trouble." The Idiot dared not lift his head.

Soon, rounding a corner, they came on a wall with three characters on it: "State Guesthouse." The Tang monk said: "Disciples, let us go into this office." Pilgrim said: "Why go in?" The Tang monk said: "The State Guesthouse is where all comers from everywhere are received; we may use it too. Let us rest inside, and when I have seen the king and had the papers changed, we will hurry on out of the city." At these words Bajie stuck his snout out, and terrified some dozens of the onlookers. He stepped forward: "Master is right; let us hide inside, out of the noise of this wretched pack." They went into the guesthouse, and the crowd slowly fell away.

Now in the guesthouse were two stewards, a chief and a deputy, checking over their men in the hall, about to go out and meet some official. Suddenly they saw the Tang monk coming, and each started: "Who are these? Who are these? Where are they going?" Tripitaka, hands together, said: "I am a poor monk sent by the Tang of the Eastern Land to fetch scriptures in the Western Heaven. Come to your precious land, I dare not pass unannounced; I carry papers to be examined and stamped, and beg the loan of your noble office to rest in." The two stewards, hearing this, waved back their attendants, straightened their caps, tightened their belts, came down from the hall, and welcomed them. They ordered a guest room swept for their lodging and plain food provided. Tripitaka thanked them. The two officers led their men out and away. The servants asked their honors to rest in the guest room, and Tripitaka went. Pilgrim said bitterly: "These fellows are slack—why didn't they ask old Sun into the main hall?" Tripitaka said: "This land is not under my Tang rule, nor joined to my country; besides, high officials and travelers pass through constantly—so it is not proper for them to lodge us so." Pilgrim said: "In that case, I insist they lodge us so."

As they spoke, the steward brought the provisions: a plate of white rice, a plate of white flour, two bundles of greens, four blocks of bean curd, two gluten twists, a plate of dried bamboo shoots, a plate of wood-ear fungus. Tripitaka told his disciples to take it in and thanked the steward. The steward said: "There is a clean stove in the west room, and firewood handy; cook for yourselves." Tripitaka said: "Let me ask you: is the king in court today?" The steward said: "His Majesty has long been unable to hold court. Today is a lucky day, and he is with all the civil and military officers, about to post the summons for a physician. If you want your papers changed, go quickly and you will just make it; tomorrow it will be too late, and who knows how long you might wait." Tripitaka said: "Wukong, you prepare the meal here; I will hurry to have the papers stamped and come back, eat, and go on." Bajie hastily brought out the kasaya and the papers. Tripitaka dressed and went to court, charging his disciples only not to go out and make trouble.

In a moment he stood before the Five Phoenix Tower—no words for the towering halls and splendid terraces. At the Duan Gate he begged the officer of petitions to carry word to the throne, asking to have his papers examined and stamped. The yellow-gate officer went to the jade steps and reported: "Outside the court gate is a monk, an envoy of the Tang of the Eastern Land, on his way to worship the Buddha and seek scriptures at Thunderclap Monastery in the West; he asks to have his travel papers changed, and waits your summons." The king, hearing, rejoiced: "I have been ill so long I have not held my throne. Today I mount the hall to post the summons for a physician, and at once a holy monk comes to my kingdom." He sent word to admit him below the steps. Tripitaka bowed low, prostrate. The king then summoned him up to the golden hall, gave him a seat, and ordered the Court of Imperial Entertainments to prepare a meal. Tripitaka thanked the grace and offered up his papers.

The king read them through with great pleasure: "Master, in your Tang, how many reigns had righteous kings? How many generations worthy ministers? And why did your Tang emperor fall ill and come back to life, and send you over mountains and rivers to seek scriptures?" At the question the elder leaned forward, hands together, and said: "In my country...

Three sovereigns ordered the world; five emperors set its bonds of duty.Yao and Shun held the throne aright; Yu and Tang gave the people peace.In Zhou of Cheng the lords were many, and each set up his own heaven and earth.The strong bullied the weak; states split, and each crowned himself.Eighteen lords of states, and war's dust at every border.Then twelve remained, and the world was quiet and pure.But the royal chariots and horses gone, they swallowed each other again.Seven heroes fought for mastery; six kingdoms went to Qin.Heaven sent forth the men of Lu and Pei, each nursing no kindness;the rivers and hills fell to Han, and the covenant laws were honored.Han passed to the Sima; Jin again fell into tangles.North and south, twelve houses: Song, Qi, Liang, Chen.Ancestral thrones followed one another; Great Sui knitted the true thread.Its ruler wanton among his flowers, and the people ground in misery.My king, of the house of Li, is the sovereign called Tang.Gaozu slept with his fathers; the present king is Shimin.The rivers run clear, the seas are calm; great virtue, wide mercy.Now, north of Chang'an, there was a strange water dragon god who pared down the sweet rain, and by law must lose his life.By night he came in a dream and begged the king to save him from his trouble.The king said yes, he would pardon him, and early called his worthy minister.He kept him in the hall and slowly wheeled the chessboard;at the stroke of noon that worthy minister, in his dream, cut off the dragon's body.

The king, hearing this, suddenly groaned and asked: "Master, what country did that worthy minister come from?" Tripitaka said: "He is the chancellor before my king, named Wei Zheng. He reads the heavens, knows the earth, and can tell yin from yang—a great minister, the stay of the state. Because he cut off the dragon king of the Jing River in a dream, that dragon king sued him in the courts of the dead, saying my king had promised to save him and then had him killed; and so my king fell sick, and daily drew nearer death. Wei Zheng also wrote a letter, which my king carried down to the world of the dead, to be given to Cui Jue, judge of Fengdu city. A little later the Tang emperor died, and on the third day came back to life—all thanks to Wei Zheng, and to Judge Cui, who altered the register and added twenty years to the king's span. Now he is preparing the Grand Mass of Land and Water, and so sent this poor monk over the long roads, through all these kingdoms, to worship the Buddha and fetch the three baskets of the Great Vehicle scriptures, to free suffering souls and raise them to heaven." The king groaned again and sighed: "Truly a great kingdom of heaven, righteous king and worthy ministers. Here am I, ill all this while, and not one minister to save me." The elder heard, and stole a look: the emperor's face was yellow, his flesh wasted, his frame spent, his spirit sunk. As the elder made to ask, an officer of the entertainments court asked that the Tang monk be served his meal. The king sent his decree: "Set it out in the Hall of Scattered Fragrance, with my own meal, that the master may share it." Tripitaka thanked the grace and ate with the king—and there we leave it.

Now Pilgrim in the guesthouse told Sha Monk to get the tea and rice ready, and the vegetables cooked. Sha Monk said: "Tea and rice are easy; the vegetables are the problem." Pilgrim asked: "How so?" Sha Monk said: "There is no oil, no salt, no soybean sauce, no vinegar." Pilgrim said: "I have a few coppers here; let Bajie go to the street and buy some." The Idiot shirked: "I dare not go. My face is not handsome; I might stir up trouble, and Master would blame me." Pilgrim said: "Fair trade—no begging from them, no robbing them. What trouble?" Bajie said: "You did not see the sport just now? I stuck my snout out at the gate and scared a dozen people flat. In a crowded market, who knows how many I would scare to death?" Pilgrim said: "You only know the crowd in the market—did you see what they sell there?" Bajie said: "Master told me to keep my head down and make no trouble; truly I did not see." Pilgrim said: "Wine shops, rice shops, flour mills, silks and sundries—never mind them; and fine tea houses and noodle shops, big baked cakes and big buns; restaurants with good soups and rice, good pepper and spices, good vegetables; and rare sweet cakes, steamed pastry, dainties, dumplings, fried sweets, honeyed sweets—without number. Suppose I go and buy some and treat you?" The Idiot's mouth watered at the words, and his throat gulped and gurgled; he jumped up: "Brother, this time I will sponge on you; next time we save up money, I will stand you the feast back." Pilgrim chuckled to himself and said: "Sha Monk, cook the rice well; we are going out to buy seasoning." Sha Monk knew they were fooling the Idiot, but could only go along: "Go on then—but buy plenty, and come back full." The Idiot grabbed a bowl and cup and went out with Pilgrim. Two officers at the gate asked: "Where are you going, elder?" Pilgrim said: "To buy seasoning." The man said: "This street goes west; round past the drum tower is the Zheng sundries shop—buy as much as you like: oil, salt, soybean sauce, vinegar, ginger, pepper, tea leaves, everything."

The two went off hand in hand, west up the street. Pilgrim passed tea houses and restaurants, and bought nothing that should be bought, ate nothing that should be eaten. Bajie called: "Brother, buy something here and let us be done." But Pilgrim was teasing him and would buy nothing: "Brother, you have no head for business. Walk on—we will pick the biggest to eat." And so talking, they gathered another crowd following and staring. Soon they were at the drum tower, where below it countless people clamored, packed and pushing, jamming street and road. Bajie saw and said: "Brother, I am not going. What a crowd yelling—like as not they are arresting monks; and strangers are suspect. What if they arrest us?" Pilgrim said: "Nonsense! Monks break no laws—what would they arrest us for? We will go through and buy seasoning at Zheng's shop." Bajie said: "Enough, enough, enough. I make no trouble. In that crush, with one shove of these ears I would knock them down and trample them—suppose a few died? I would have to pay with my life!" Pilgrim said: "Then stand here against the wall while I go over, buy, and come back; I will buy you plain noodles and baked cakes." The Idiot handed over the bowl and cup, planted his snout against the wall, turned his back, and would not move for the life of him.

Pilgrim went to the tower; the crush was real. He elbowed into the crowd and listened: the royal notice was posted below the tower, and that was why so many crowded to see. He pressed close, flashed his fiery eyes and golden pupils, and read it carefully. It said:

I, the king of the Kingdom of Vermilion Purple in West Cow Victory: since I founded my line, the four quarters have been at peace, and the people quiet and secure. Lately the fortune of the state has gone ill; a deep sickness has laid me on my pillow, dragging on day after day without cure. The physicians of my own medical court have repeatedly chosen good prescriptions, yet cannot heal me. Now I post this notice, calling worthies from all the world. Come from the north or from the east, from China or from foreign lands, whoever is skilled in the art of medicine, let him mount the jeweled hall and treat my person. If he brings me but a little healing, I will divide my realm with him equally; this I promise without deceit. For this cause the notice is issued and posted. So let it be.

He read it and rejoiced with all his heart: "The ancients say: 'Moving about brings luck in money, three parts of it.' A good thing I was not sitting idle in the guesthouse. I need buy no seasoning; let the scriptures wait a day, and old Sun will play the doctor."

A fine Great Sage! Bending at the waist, he dropped the bowl and cup, took a pinch of dust, tossed it up, said a spell, used the art of invisibility, slipped forward gently, and peeled the notice off. Drawing in magic breath toward the southeast quarter and blowing, he raised a whirlwind that scattered the crowd. Then he turned and went back to where Bajie stood, snout against the wall, as if asleep. Pilgrim did not wake him; he folded the notice, slipped it gently into his breast, turned on his heel, and made first for the guesthouse—there we leave it.

Now the crowd below the tower, when the wind rose, had all covered their heads and shut their eyes; when the wind passed, the notice was gone, and all shuddered with fear. The notice had been carried out at morning court by twelve eunuchs and twelve guards; it had hung not three hours when the wind took it. Trembling, they hunted left and right—and suddenly the corner of a paper showed from Zhu Bajie's breast. The crowd came near: "So you took the notice down?" The Idiot jerked up his head and thrust out his snout, and terrified the guards so that they staggered and fell to the ground. He turned to go, but several bold ones caught him: "You took down the royal notice calling a physician—why are you not in court healing His Majesty? Where would you go?" The Idiot, flustered, said: "Your son took down the notice, and your grandson can heal." The guards said: "What have you got there in your breast?" Only then did the Idiot look down: truly there was a paper. He opened it, gnashed his teeth, and cursed: "That monkey has done for me." With a curse he made to tear it, but the crowd held his arms: "You are a dead man. This is the notice of the reigning king—who dares tear it? Since it is in your breast, you must have the hand that heals a kingdom. Come with us quickly." Bajie roared: "You do not understand. I did not take this notice; my brother Sun Wukong took it. He slipped it into my breast secretly and left me here. If you want the matter cleared up, I will help you find him." The crowd said: "What idle talk? You have the bell before you—why go casting a new one? You hold the notice itself; whom would you have us hunt for? We do not care—come along to see the sovereign." The crowd, asking no questions, pushed and dragged the Idiot; but he planted his feet like a rooted tree, and a dozen men could not move him. Bajie said: "You do not know what is good for you. Keep pulling, and when my idiot temper snaps, don't blame me."

Soon the whole street was up, and they ringed him in. Two old eunuchs said: "Your looks are strange and your voice does not match—where are you from, so rude and wild?" Bajie said: "We are sent from the Eastern Land to fetch scriptures in the Western Heaven. My master is the Tang emperor's own brother in religion, a master of the law; he has just gone into court to have the papers changed. My brother and I came to buy seasoning; seeing the crowd below the tower I dared not go, and my brother told me to wait here. It seems he saw the notice, raised a whirlwind, took it, slipped it into my breast, and went on ahead." The eunuch said: "I saw a fat white-faced monk make straight for the court gate just now—was that your master?" Bajie said: "Right, right." The eunuch said: "And where has your brother gone?" Bajie said: "We are four in our company: the master went to change the papers, and the three of us, with our loads and the horse, are lodged at the State Guesthouse. My brother made a fool of me and has gone back to the guesthouse first." The eunuch said: "Guards, do not drag him. Let us all go to the guesthouse, and we will know the truth of it." Bajie said: "You two granddams know what is what." The guards said: "This monk truly does not know his goods—calling a grandfather 'granddam'!" Bajie laughed: "Shame on you, you who have turned yin and yang about. These two old mothers—if I may not call them granddams and grannies, must I call them grandfathers?" The crowd said: "None of your jaw—come, find your brother."

The street, in an uproar, mustered three or five hundred, and all together they hauled him to the guesthouse door. Bajie said: "Everyone, stop. My brother is not like me, for you to make sport of. He is a fierce, earnest man. When you see him, you must make a deep obeisance and call him Lord Sun, and he will receive you; otherwise he will change his face, and the business will come to nothing." The eunuchs and guards all said: "If your brother truly has the art to heal the king, he deserves half the realm; it is right we should bow."

The idle crowd clamored outside the gate. Bajie led the eunuchs and guards straight into the guesthouse, and heard Pilgrim and Sha Monk in the guest room laughing over the notice-stealing. Bajie came up and seized him, bawling: "Are you a man at all? You sent me off to buy plain noodles, baked cakes, and buns, and it was all wind. Then you raised a whirlwind, took some royal notice, slipped it into my breast, and made a tool of me. Is this the way of brothers?" Pilgrim laughed: "You Idiot, you must have taken the wrong turning and gone somewhere else. I went past the drum tower, bought the seasoning, hurried back to find you, could not, and came on first. What royal notice did I take?" Bajie said: "The officials who watched the notice are here." At once the eunuchs and guards bowed toward the seat of honor: "Lord Sun, today our king meets his fate; heaven has sent your lordship down. Spread wide your skillful hand, and drop but a little of your healing art—cure our king, and you have a share of rivers and hills, an equal cut of the realm." Hearing this, Pilgrim composed his face, took the notice from Bajie, and said to them: "I suppose you are the officials who kept the notice?" The eunuch knocked his head: "Your servants are ministers of the Office of Rites; these few are guards of the Embroidered Uniform." Pilgrim said: "It was truly I who took the notice calling a physician, and I sent my brother to bring you to me. Since your sovereign is sick—there is a saying: 'Medicine is not sold cheap, and sickness does not beg the doctor.' Go and tell your king to come invite me in person, and I have the art of curing at a touch." The eunuchs were all amazed. A guard said: "Big words mean big capacity. Let half of us stay to invite him quietly, and half go into court to report."

Four eunuchs and six guards were sent off; without waiting to be summoned they went straight to court and reported at the steps: "A thousand joys to our sovereign." The king was just done eating and talking quietly with Tripitaka; hearing the report he asked: "Where does this joy come from?" The eunuch reported: "Your servants took out the notice calling a physician early and posted it below the drum tower. A holy monk, Elder Sun, come from the Tang of the Eastern Land for scriptures, took it down, and is now in the State Guesthouse; he wants the king to invite him in person, for he has the art of curing at a touch. So we have come to report." The king rejoiced with all his heart, and asked the Tang monk: "Master, how many worthy disciples have you?" Tripitaka, hands together, answered: "Three unruly disciples." The king asked: "Which of them knows medicine?" Tripitaka said: "To tell Your Majesty the truth, those unruly disciples of mine are rough country talent, good only for carrying loads and leading the horse, fording streams and finding fords, bringing this poor monk over the mountains; or, where the ground is steep and perilous, subduing demons and catching monsters, taming tigers and dragons—that is all. Not one of them knows the nature of drugs." The king said: "Master, why so modest? That I should mount my hall today and meet with you is heaven's own fate. If your disciple knew no medicine, why would he take down my notice and have me invite him in person? Surely he has the hand that heals a kingdom." He called: "Civil and military lords, my body is weak and my strength gone; I dare not ride my carriage. Go for me, every one of you, outside the court, and beg Elder Sun respectfully to see to my illness. When you meet him, show no slight; call him 'the holy monk, Elder Sun,' and greet him with the rites due between sovereign and minister."

The officers took the decree, and with the eunuchs and guards went to the State Guesthouse and lined up to bow. Bajie hid in a side room, and Sha Monk slipped behind the wall. The Great Sage sat in the middle, unmoved. Bajie grumbled in the dark: "This monkey will be the death of us. All these officials bowing, and he never returns one bow, never even stands up." Before long the bows were done, and they filed into order and reported: "Holy monk, Elder Sun: we are all ministers of the king of the Kingdom of Vermilion Purple; by the king's decree we come with clean ceremony to beg the holy monk to enter the court and see to the king's illness." Only then did Pilgrim rise and say to them: "Why has your king not come?" The ministers said: "Our king is weak in body and strength, and dares not ride his carriage; he has ordered us to perform the rite in his place and bow to beg the holy monk." Pilgrim said: "So be it. Masters, go before; I will follow." The ministers filed off in their ranks, each by his rank. Pilgrim rose and dressed. Bajie said: "Brother, do not drag us into it." Pilgrim said: "I will not drag you in—only you two must gather drugs for me." Sha Monk said: "What drugs?" Pilgrim said: "Whatever anyone sends me for medicine, take it in, all of it, by count; I will have use for it when I come back." The two agreed—and there we leave it.

Pilgrim and the officers reached the palace in a moment. The ministers went first and told the king, who rolled high the pearl curtains, flashed his dragon eyes and phoenix gaze, opened his golden mouth, and asked in his imperial voice: "Which is the holy monk, Elder Sun?" Pilgrim stepped forward and said in a ringing voice: "Old Sun is the one." The king, hearing so fierce a voice and seeing so sharp a face, shook all over and fell back on the dragon bed. The maids of the palace and the eunuchs hurriedly helped him into the inner rooms. "He has frightened the life out of me!" All the officers roundly blamed Pilgrim: "How could this monk be so coarse and unmannerly—dare to take the notice down on his own authority?"

Pilgrim laughed: "You wrong me, gentlemen. With such discourtesy, your king's illness would take a thousand years to mend." The ministers said: "How many years of life does a man have? Would it still not be mended in a thousand years?" Pilgrim said: "Alive, he is a sick king; dead, a sick ghost; born again, a sick man still—is that not a thousand years without mending?" The ministers raged: "Monk, you know no courtesy—how dare you talk such drivel?" Pilgrim laughed: "It is no drivel. Listen to me:

The principles of the physician's art are subtlest and deepest; the main thing is a mind that can turn and wheel.Looking, listening, asking, feeling the pulse—four things; lacking one, the whole is not complete:first, look at his spirit, his breath, his color; at freshness or waste, flesh or thinness, his rising and his sleeping;second, listen whether the voice is clear or thick, to his true words or his wild talk;third, ask how many days the sickness has run, how he eats and drinks, and how his body serves him;fourth, feel the pulse and read the channels: whether it floats or sinks, whether the trouble is outer or inner, and of what kind.Without looking, listening, asking, and feeling, this life will never see him sound again.

Among the two files of civil and military officers were physicians of the imperial medical court, who said to the rest in praise: "This monk talks sense. Even an immortal treating sickness must look, listen, ask, and feel the pulse—exactly according to the skill of the divine physicians."

The officers took this up and had an attendant report: "The elder must use looking, listening, asking, and feeling the pulse before he can know the sickness and give medicine." The king, lying on the dragon bed, groaned out: "Send him away. I cannot bear to see a stranger's face." The attendant came out and said: "Monk, the king's decree is that you go; he cannot bear to see a stranger's face." Pilgrim said: "If he cannot see a stranger's face, I can feel the pulse by a hanging thread." The officers rejoiced to themselves: "The pulse by a hanging thread—we have heard of it, but never seen it. Go report again." The attendant went in and reported: "Sovereign, this Elder Sun need not see your face; he can feel the pulse by a hanging thread." The king thought to himself: "Three years sick, and I have never tried this. Admit him." The attendant hurried out and proclaimed: "His Majesty consents to the pulse by the hanging thread; let Elder Sun be admitted to the palace to examine him."

Pilgrim went up to the jeweled hall. The Tang monk met him with a curse: "You brazen monkey, you have ruined me." Pilgrim laughed: "A fine master! I was adding to your credit, and you say I ruin you." Tripitaka snapped: "All these years you have followed me—when did you ever cure anybody? You do not know the nature of one drug, you have never read a medical book—how dare you walk into such trouble?" Pilgrim laughed: "Master, you do not know me. I have a few country prescriptions that cure great sicknesses; I promise you I can heal him. Even if I cured him to death, the charge would only be 'a bungling doctor killed his patient'—it is not a capital crime. What are you afraid of! No matter, no matter. Sit down and watch my skill at the pulse." The elder said again: "When did you ever read the Plain Questions, the Classic of Difficulties, the Herbal, or the Manual of the Pulse—what chapters, what commentaries? And you spout such nonsense—what do you know about feeling the pulse by a hanging thread?" Pilgrim laughed: "I have gold thread on my person—you never saw it." He reached down, plucked three hairs from his tail, rolled them in his fingers, cried "Change!" and they became three silk threads, each two zhang and four chi long, matched to the twenty-four airs of the year, held in his hand. He said to the Tang monk: "Is this not my gold thread?" The attendant at his side said: "Elder, enough of boasting—go into the palace and examine the king." Pilgrim took leave of the Tang monk and followed the attendant in to see the king. And so it was:

The secret recipe in the heart can order a kingdom; the subtle art hidden within holds the note of long life.

But what sickness he would find, and what drugs he would use, who could tell? To know the truth of it, listen to the next chapter to find out.