Chapter 69

The Mind's Master Prepares Medicine at Night; The King Speaks of a Monster at the Banquet

The Great Sage Sun followed a eunuch into the palace and stopped outside the royal bedchamber. He gave the eunuch three golden threads. “Have a consort or attendant tie them to the king's left wrist over the three pulse positions, inch, gate, and cubit. Pass the other ends through the window.” The eunuch seated the king and did so. Pilgrim took the threads and felt the inch position with his right thumb and index finger, the gate with thumb and middle finger, and the cubit with thumb and ring finger. He steadied his breath, discerning the four kinds of breath, five obstructions, seven external and eight internal conditions, nine examinations, rising and falling pulses, and signs of fullness and deficiency. Then he had the threads transferred to the king's right wrist and examined its three pulses with his left hand. Finally he shook himself and drew the golden threads back into his body. “Your Majesty's left inch pulse is strong and tight, the gate rough and slow, the cubit hollow and deep. The right inch is floating and slippery, the gate slow and irregular, the cubit rapid and firm. A strong tight left inch means inner emptiness and pain in the heart; a rough slow gate, sweating and numbness; a hollow deep cubit, red urine and blood in the stool. A floating slippery right inch means blockage within; a slow irregular gate, lingering food and fluid; a rapid firm cubit, distress and bloating joined with a cold deficiency. Your illness comes from fright, anxiety, and grief: the ‘two birds separated from their flock.’” From within, the delighted king called, “You have discerned it exactly! Prepare the medicine outside.”

Pilgrim walked out slowly. Eunuchs who had listened were already reporting to the court. Tripitaka asked what he had found. “I have taken the pulse; now I shall prepare a remedy.” Officials asked about the “two birds separated from their flock.” Pilgrim smiled. “A male and female bird once flew together until a storm parted them. She cannot see him, nor he her; each longs for the other. Aren't they two birds separated from their flock?” “A divine monk, a divine physician!” the officials exclaimed. A court physician asked what medicine he would use. “I shall ask for every herb I see, rather than follow a fixed recipe.” “The classics say there are 808 medicines and 404 diseases. One man cannot have all those illnesses. Why ask for every medicine?” “The ancients say not to cling to a prescription, but adapt to the need. I'll choose from what I gather.”

The physician said no more. He sent word through every apothecary in the city to prepare three catties of each of the 808 medicinal ingredients. “This is no place to prepare them,” said Pilgrim. “Send the herbs and all the equipment to the Hostel for Visiting Envoys. My two brothers will receive them.” Obeying, the court physicians delivered every ingredient, grinders, mills, sieves, pestles, mortars, and other tools to the hostel.

Pilgrim returned to the hall and invited his master to help prepare the remedy. As Tripitaka rose, an order from the inner palace arrived: he was to stay overnight in the Hall of Literary Splendor, and after the medicine cured the king in the morning, they would be rewarded and their papers renewed. “Disciple,” said Tripitaka in alarm, “they've kept me as a hostage! If you cure him, we'll leave honored; if you fail, I'll die. Prepare your medicine with the greatest care.” “Enjoy your stay, Master. I know how to heal a king.”

At the hostel Bajie laughed when he saw Pilgrim. “I know what you're doing.” “What?” “The scripture journey has failed, and you have no capital for a trade. This wealthy country has tempted you to open an apothecary.” “Nonsense. Once the king is cured, we'll leave. Why open a shop?” “Then why did you order three catties of each of 808 herbs? That's 2,424 catties to treat one man! It would take years to use them.” “I won't use much. The royal physicians are fools. I've ordered so many ingredients that they cannot tell which ones I use or discover my wonderful formula.”

The hostel's two envoys knelt before him. “Divine monk, your evening meal is ready.” “You barely greeted me this morning. Why kneel now?” “We failed to recognize you. Now we hear that your practiced physician's hand will cure our sovereign. If he recovers, half the kingdom will be yours, and we shall be your subjects. We ought to bow.” Pilgrim gladly took the highest seat, Bajie and Sha Monk on either side. “Where is Master?” Sha Monk asked at dinner. “The king is holding him hostage until we cure him.” “Will they look after him?” “Of course. Three ministers were attending him when I left for the Hall of Literary Splendor.” “So Master ranks highest,” said Bajie. “He gets three ministers, and we have only two envoys. No matter. Let me eat my fill.” The brothers enjoyed their meal.

At nightfall Pilgrim asked the envoys to clear away the dishes and provide plenty of lamp oil and candles so the brothers could make the medicine at midnight. The supplies were brought, and the attendants withdrew.

When the streets were still and no sound disturbed the night, Bajie said, “What are we making, brother? Hurry. I'm sleepy.” “Grind one tael of rhubarb to a fine powder.” Sha Monk objected: “Rhubarb is bitter, cold, and not poisonous. It descends rather than rises and acts without lingering. It clears blockages and restores order, hence its name ‘General.’ But in a long illness the patient may be too weak for it.” “It clears phlegm and regulates the breath, sweeping out stagnant heat and cold from the belly. Never mind. Bajie, take a tael of croton seeds. Remove shells and membranes, pound away their toxic oil, and grind them fine.” “Croton is sharp, hot, and poisonous,” Bajie said. “It breaks up hard deposits and clears deep cold from the organs; it opens blockages and frees the passages for water and grain. It is a general who storms the gates. Use it with care.” “It will clear the bowels and relieve swelling. Prepare it; I'll add supporting ingredients.”

They ground the two medicines. “What other dozens of herbs?” they asked. “None.” “All those herbs, and you need only two taels? You've been thoroughly taking people in,” said Bajie. Pilgrim handed him a porcelain cup. “Don't talk. Scrape half a cup of soot from the bottom of the cooking pot.” “Why?” “For the medicine.” “I've never heard of pot soot in medicine,” said Sha Monk. “It's called ‘frost of a hundred herbs’ and treats a hundred diseases.” Bajie scraped half a cup and ground it fine.

“Now collect half a cup of our horse's urine,” Pilgrim told him. “For what?” “To roll the pills.” Sha Monk laughed. “This is serious, brother. Horse urine stinks. People roll pills with vinegar paste, old rice paste, honey, or water, not horse urine. A patient with a weak stomach would vomit at its smell; with rhubarb and croton too, he'd be purged at both ends.” “Our horse is no ordinary horse. He was a dragon of the Western Sea. If he will urinate, it can cure any disease. But it isn't easy to obtain.” Bajie went to the horse, which was sleeping on its side, kicked it up, and waited under its belly. Nothing came. “Brother, heal the horse first,” he reported. “He's so blocked up he can't pass a drop.” “Let's go together,” said Pilgrim, and Sha Monk joined them.

The horse sprang up and spoke sharply. “Brother, you know I am a flying dragon from the Western Sea. Guanyin saved me when I broke Heaven's law, removed my horns and scales, and made me a horse to carry Master west in atonement. If I urinate over water, fish that swallow it become dragons; over mountains, the plants it touches become lingzhi, giving immortality to the young immortals who pick them. Why should I waste it in this dusty world?” “Speak carefully, brother,” Pilgrim said. “This is a western kingdom, not merely worldly dust. As they say, ‘Many hairs together make a coat.’ We need to treat its king. If he recovers, all of us will be honored. Otherwise we may not leave safely.” “Wait,” said the horse. He crouched forward and backward, grinding his teeth, and with effort passed just a few drops. “You wretch! Even if it's liquid gold, you could give us more,” Bajie complained. “Nearly half a cup is enough,” said Pilgrim, and Sha Monk was relieved.

The three returned and blended the ingredients into three large pills. “They're too big,” Pilgrim said. “Only the size of walnuts,” Bajie replied. “I'd swallow them all in one bite.” They put the pills in a small box and slept in their clothes until morning.

Despite his illness, the king held court again. When Tripitaka was summoned, the king ordered his officials to go and bow to Divine Monk Elder Sun and bring back the medicine.

The officials knelt at the hostel. “Our king sends us for your wondrous medicine.” Bajie fetched the box, and Pilgrim gave it to them. “What is it called?” “Pills of Black Gold.” Bajie and Sha Monk laughed in secret: soot certainly made them black. “What should he take with it?” “Either of two preparations. One is a decoction of six ingredients.” “Which six?” “A crow's fart caught in midair, the urine of a carp swimming upstream, the Queen Mother's face powder, ash from the Supreme Lord Lao's furnace, three pieces of the Jade Emperor's worn-out headcloth, and five strands from a captive dragon's whiskers. Boil these to wash down the pills and the king's worries will vanish at once.” “These cannot be found on earth. What is the other?” “Rootless water.” “That's easy,” said the officials. “How?” “We call water rootless if it is carried from a well or river without setting the bowl down or looking back before the patient drinks.” “Well water and river water both have roots,” said Pilgrim. “I mean rain that falls from heaven and is drunk without touching earth.” “Then he can take the medicine when it rains.”

They thanked Pilgrim and presented the pills. “What are these?” asked the pleased king. “Black Gold Pills. They must be swallowed with rootless water.” When his attendants were sent for some, the ministers explained that the divine monk meant rain caught before it struck the ground, not water drawn from a river or well. The king ordered a call for rain-making priests to be posted.

At the hostel Pilgrim said to Bajie, “We have prescribed water from heaven, but there may be no rain soon. The king seems a worthy ruler. Let's help him have some to take with the pills.” He had Bajie stand on his left and Sha Monk on his right as supporting stars. Then he formed the celestial steps and recited a spell. A black cloud came from the east. “Great Sage,” said a voice, “Ao Guang, Dragon King of the Eastern Sea, is here.” “I wouldn't trouble you without cause. Please provide a little rootless water for the king's medicine.” “You did not say you needed rain. I came alone, without rain-making vessels or wind, cloud, thunder, and lightning. How can I make it?” “No need for a storm or much rain. Just enough to take the medicine.” “Then I'll sneeze twice and let him have a little of my spittle.” “Excellent. Do it at once.”

The old dragon lowered his dark cloud over the palace, hid his form, and sprayed a mouthful of spittle that became sweet rain. “Heaven has blessed our king!” the court cried. The king ordered everyone, within and without the palace, to catch the immortal water. Ministers, consorts, three thousand attendants, and eight hundred palace women held cups, bowls, and trays up to the rain. For an hour the dragon produced the drops above the palace. Then he took leave of the Great Sage and returned to the sea. Some vessels held one or two drops, others three or five, and some none at all. Combined, they yielded about three cups for the king's table, filling the throne hall with rare fragrance.

Leaving Tripitaka, the king took the pills and rainwater into his chamber. He swallowed one pill with one cup, then a second and a third in the same way. Soon his belly rumbled like a turning pulley. He used a chamber pot three or five times, drank rice water, and lay on his bed. Two consorts examined what he had passed: foul phlegm and filth, with a lump of glutinous rice. “The root of your illness has come out,” they reported. Delighted, the king ate more rice.

His chest soon felt clear, his breath and blood balanced. His strength returned. He dressed for court, entered the hall, and bowed before Tripitaka, who hastened to return the honor. Taking the elder's hand, the king ordered, “Write an invitation beginning ‘I bow again with my head to the ground.’ Have an officer summon all three of Master's disciples. Open the eastern hall and prepare a feast of thanks.” The palace sprang to the task at once.

When the invitation came, Bajie rejoiced. “Brother, your medicine worked. This is your reward.” “As they say, one man's good fortune benefits a whole house,” said Sha Monk. “We all made the pills. Let's enjoy the feast without arguing.” The brothers went happily to court.

Officials escorted them into the eastern hall, where Tripitaka, the king, and senior ministers awaited them. The three bowed to their master. Four lavish vegetarian tables stood at the head of the hall, each displaying ten dishes for every one to be eaten. A splendid meat table stood before them for the king, with four or five hundred tables in neat rows on either side:

As the ancients say: “A hundred delicacies, a thousand cups of fine wine.”Sweet cream, rich cheese, finely sliced meats;Flowers and colored ornaments make the tables bright,And fruit offers a wealth of scents and flavors.Sugar dragons coil beside lion-shaped sweets;Baked cakes and pastries stand beside phoenix-shaped treats.For meat-eaters there are pork, mutton, chicken, goose, fish, and duck;For vegetarians, greens, bamboo shoots, wood ears, and mushrooms.Many kinds of fragrant soup and bread,Repeated servings of sugared pastry;Soft millet rice and fresh wild-rice gruel,Delicate soups both spicy and sweet,And dish after dish of delicious fare.King and court raise cups as they sit,Passing the wine in order of rank.

The king raised a cup to seat Tripitaka. “I do not drink wine,” the monk said. “This is vegetarian wine,” the king replied. “Will you have a cup?” “For a monk, wine is forbidden above all.” “Then how may I honor you?” “Let my three disciples drink in my place.” The king gladly handed a golden cup to Pilgrim, who bowed and drank. He accepted a second, then a third “for the Three Jewels,” and a fourth “for the four seasons.”

Bajie swallowed hard when no wine came his way. As the king pressed another cup on Pilgrim, the Idiot cried, “I helped make the medicine! There was horse…” Fearing he would reveal the secret, Pilgrim gave him his cup. Bajie drank and fell silent. “What was that about a horse?” the king asked. “My brother has a good prescription he cannot keep to himself. The medicine contained birthwort, also called ‘horse-bell herb.’” “What is its use?” asked the king. A royal physician answered:

“Birthwort is bitter, cold, and free of poison;It eases wheezing and clears phlegm.It opens the breath and dispels disorders of the blood,Strengthens the weak, calms a cough, and soothes the middle.”

“Then it was well chosen,” said the king. “Elder Zhu, take another cup.” Bajie said nothing but drank three cups, as did Sha Monk when served. They sat down together.

Later the king offered Pilgrim a great goblet. “Sit, Your Majesty,” said Pilgrim. “I'll drink when it reaches me.” “I can never thank you enough. Take this cup, and let me tell you something.” “Speak, and I'll drink.” “For years I have suffered from anxiety and grief, until your single remedy cleared the blockage and cured me.” “I knew yesterday it was an illness of the heart,” said Pilgrim, “but what troubled you?” “Family disgrace should be kept within the family. Yet you saved my life, and if you won't laugh I can tell you.” “I will not.” “How many kingdoms have you visited from the east?” “Five or six.” “What do they call their queens?” “The principal queen, eastern queen, and western queen.” “We use different names. My principal queen is called Golden Sage Palace; the eastern queen, Jade Sage Palace; the western, Silver Sage Palace. Only Jade and Silver are here now.” “Where is Golden Sage Palace?” “She has been gone for three years,” the king said, weeping. “Where did she go?” “Three years ago at the Dragon Boat Festival, my consorts and I were in the garden's Pomegranate Pavilion, opening rice dumplings, setting out mugwort, drinking calamus and realgar wine, and watching the boat races. A wind suddenly rose. A demon appeared in the air calling himself Sai Taisui, the Rival of the Great Year. He said he lived in Xiezhi Cave on Mount Qilin, lacked a wife, and had heard that my Golden Sage Palace was beautiful. I must send her out at once or, after calling three times, he would eat me, my ministers, and everyone in the city. Fearing for my people, I had no choice but to send her from the pavilion. The demon snatched her away. In my fright the rice dumpling I ate lodged inside me. I worried day and night and was ill for three years. After your pills, the old obstruction passed. Now I feel light and strong again. I owe you my life, a debt greater than any mountain.”

Pilgrim listened with growing delight and swallowed his goblet in two gulps. “Would you like Golden Sage Palace back?” “I long for her day and night, but no one can catch that demon. Of course I want her back.” “I'll subdue him for you.” The king knelt. “If you rescue my queen, I will leave the throne with all my consorts, live as a commoner, and give you the kingdom.” Bajie laughed. “What sort of emperor gives up a kingdom for his wife and kneels to a monk?” Pilgrim raised the king. “Has the demon returned since he took her?” “That autumn, at the tenth month, he demanded two palace maids to serve her, and I sent them. The following March he demanded two more, and in July another two, and this February two more. I don't know when he'll come again.” “Are you afraid when he comes so often?” “I fear he may do further harm. Last April I had a monster refuge built. Whenever the wind sounds, my two remaining queens, nine consorts, and I hide there.” “Show it to me.” The king took Pilgrim's hand. “Brother,” Bajie protested, “why leave the banquet and all this fine wine to look at a refuge?” The king understood his appetite and ordered two vegetarian tables and wine brought to the refuge. “We're moving the feast,” Bajie told Tripitaka and Sha Monk happily.

The king led Pilgrim through the palace into the garden; no building stood behind it. “Where is your refuge?” Two eunuchs raised a square stone slab with red-lacquered poles. “Below here,” the king said. “We dug a hall of nine chambers more than thirty feet deep. Four great jars hold oil for lamps that burn day and night. At the sound of wind we go down and the servants cover the entrance.” “The demon has no wish to hurt you,” Pilgrim laughed. “If he did, this wouldn't save you.” Just then a wind roared from the south, lifting dust. “That monk's mouth has summoned him!” cried the officials. The king dropped Pilgrim's hand and dived below; Tripitaka and all the officials followed.

Bajie and Sha Monk tried to hide, but Pilgrim seized one with each hand. “Don't be afraid. Let's see what the creature is.” “Why?” Bajie protested. “The king, court, and Master are hiding. We aren't showing off for anyone!” Despite his struggles, Pilgrim held him until a monster emerged overhead:

Nine feet tall, savage and fierce;His round eyes shine like golden lamps.His flaring ears spread like fans;Four steel tusks thrust out like pegs.Red hair circles his temples; his eyebrows stand like flames.A long, crooked nose flares at the nostrils;Thin whiskers hang like strands of cinnabar,High cheekbones rise in his blue-green face.Red sinews run down his indigo arms;Ten pointed claws hold a spear.A leopard-skin skirt girds his waist;Bare feet and wild hair make him resemble a ghost.

“Sha Monk, do you know him?” “I've never met him.” “Bajie?” “We haven't had tea or wine together. He's no neighbor or friend of mine!” “He looks like a golden-eyed gate spirit in the service of the Lord of the Eastern Peak,” Pilgrim said. “No,” Bajie replied. “How do you know?” “Ghosts are spirits of yin. They come out toward evening, from the monkey to the pig hours. It is still the hour of the snake. A ghost wouldn't appear now or ride a cloud; at most it could raise a whirlwind. Perhaps he's Sai Taisui.” “Idiot, you have a point. Guard this place while I ask his name and bring Golden Sage Palace home.” “Don't tell him about us.” Pilgrim rose on an auspicious cloud without answering. Truly:

To bring peace to a realm, first heal its king;To keep the Way, the heart must cast out love and hatred.

Would he defeat the monster and rescue Golden Sage Palace? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

The Master of the Heart Makes Up His Medicine by Night; the King Speaks of the Demon at the Feast

Now the Great Sage Sun, with the palace attendant, came into the inner courts of the palace and stood still outside the door of the sleeping chamber. He handed the three gold threads to the eunuch to carry in, and gave his orders: "Have one of the consorts, or an attendant eunuch, tie them under his sacred left wrist, over the three pulse places of cun, guan, and chi, and pass the thread ends out through the window lattice to me." The eunuch did as he was told, seated the king on the dragon bed, tied the threads at cun, guan, and chi, and passed one end out the window. Pilgrim took the ends: with the thumb of his right hand bracing the forefinger he read the cun pulse; then with the middle finger pressing the thumb he read the guan pulse; then with the thumb bracing the ring finger he read the chi pulse. He steadied his own breathing, and fixed the four airs, the five stagnations, the seven outer and eight inner signs, the nine beatings, the floating, the middle, and the deep, and the deep within the floating, and made clear what was empty and what was full. He had the left hand untied and the threads tied in the same places on the right wrist, and read them through with the fingers of his left hand, one by one. Then he shook himself, gathered the gold threads up into his sleeve, and called out in a loud voice: "Your Majesty, the cun pulse of the left hand is hard and tight; the guan pulse rough and slow; the chi pulse hollow and deep. The cun pulse of the right hand is floating and slippery; the guan pulse slow and knotted; the chi pulse quick and firm. A strong, tight left cun pulse means a hollow middle and an aching heart; a rough, slow guan pulse means sweating and numb skin; a hollow, deep chi pulse means red water when you pass water and blood in the stool. A floating, slippery right cun pulse means a knotting within and stopped passages; a slow, knotted guan pulse means old food and stale drink; a quick, firm chi pulse means fullness and vexation, emptiness and cold locked together. This sickness of yours is fright and grief, and it is called 'two birds lost from the flock.'" The king within, hearing this, rejoiced with all his heart, gathered his strength, and answered in a loud voice: "Your fingers read it true, read it true—it is just this sickness. Come out and make up the medicine."

The Great Sage then walked slowly out of the palace. The eunuchs standing by had already reported it to the rest. When Pilgrim came out, the Tang monk asked how it went. Pilgrim said: "I have felt the pulse; now we make the medicine to fit the sickness." The officers came up: "Holy monk, you spoke just now of 'two birds lost from the flock'—what is that?" Pilgrim laughed: "There were two birds, male and female, flying always together, when a sudden storm scattered them. The hen cannot see the cock, nor the cock the hen; the hen longs for the cock, and the cock for the hen: is that not 'two birds lost from the flock'?" All the officers cried out at once: "Truly a holy monk! Truly a divine doctor!" and praised him without end. Then a physician of the medical court asked: "You have read the sickness—but what medicine will cure it?" Pilgrim said: "No need to hold to one prescription: whatever drugs I see, I will take." The physician said: "The classic says: 'There are eight hundred and eight drugs, and a man has four hundred and four sicknesses.' The sickness is not all in one man's body; how could all the drugs be wanted? Why take whatever you see?" Pilgrim said: "The ancients say: 'The doctor does not hold to a prescription; he uses what fits.' So I take in the whole shop of drugs, and add and subtract as I please."

The physician said no more, but went out of the court gate and sent the duty men of his office through the town, to every drug shop, raw and cooked, for all the drugs, three catties of each kind, to be sent to Pilgrim. Pilgrim said: "This is no place to make up medicine. Have the whole count of drugs, with everything needed for making them up, sent to the State Guesthouse, and handed to my two brothers." The physician obeyed, and the eight hundred and eight drugs, three catties each, with the drug mills and grinders, the sieves and mortars, the pestles and pounders, were sent to the guesthouse and handed over, every item.

Pilgrim went up to the hall to ask his master to come to the guesthouse and help make up the medicine. The elder was just rising when a message came from the inner palace: the grand secretary was to keep the master and lodge with him in the Hall of Literary Splendor; after the medicine was taken in the morning and the sickness cured, he would be thanked, his papers changed, and he would be sent on his way. Tripitaka was alarmed: "Disciple, they mean to keep me as a pledge. If you cure him, they will send me off with joy; if not, my life is lost. You must set your mind to it and work with all care." Pilgrim laughed: "Master, rest easy and enjoy yourself. Old Sun has the hand that heals a kingdom."

A fine Great Sage! He left Tripitaka, took leave of the ministers, and went straight to the guesthouse. Bajie met him laughing: "Brother, I have you now." Pilgrim said: "You have what?" Bajie said: "I know your business with the scriptures has come to nothing, and you want a trade with no capital; seeing how rich this place is, you mean to open a drug shop." Pilgrim snapped: "No nonsense. We cure the king, take our thanks at the height of our credit, leave court and walk on—what drug shop?" Bajie said: "Then what of these eight hundred and eight drugs, three catties each—two thousand four hundred and twenty-four catties in all—to cure one man? How much can he use? It would last him years and years." Pilgrim said: "Where would he use so much? The doctors of his medical court are all dullards; that is why I ordered the whole shopful, so that they can never guess which few I used, and never learn my wondrous recipe."

As they spoke, the two stewards knelt before them: "Will the holy lord come to the evening meal?" Pilgrim said: "This morning you treated me so; now you kneel and beg me—why?" The stewards knocked their heads: "When your lordship came, this humble officer had eyes but no pupils, and did not know your face. Now we hear your lordship unfolding the art of the arm broken three times to heal the ruler of a kingdom. If the king is healed, your lordship has a share in the realm—and we are all his servants; it is our duty to bow and beg you." Hearing this, Pilgrim went up gladly and took the seat of honor; Bajie and Sha Monk sat on either side. The meal was set out, and Sha Monk asked: "Brother, where is Master?" Pilgrim laughed: "The king is keeping Master as his pledge. He will be thanked and sent off only when the sickness is cured." Sha Monk asked: "Is he being well treated?" Pilgrim said: "Would the king treat him ill? When I left him, three grand secretaries were in attendance on him, and they had asked him into the Hall of Literary Splendor." Bajie said: "In that case, Master is the great one after all: he has grand secretaries waiting on him, and we must be content with two guesthouse stewards. Never mind him—let old pig eat a full meal." And the brothers enjoyed themselves at ease.

It grew late. Pilgrim told the stewards: "Clear away the dishes, and get plenty of oil and candles; we make up the medicine when the night is still." The stewards brought oil and candles, and all were sent off to bed.

At midnight the streets of heaven were still, and all things silent. Bajie said: "Brother, what medicine are we making? Let us be quick about it; I am sleepy." Pilgrim said: "Take one ounce of rhubarb and grind it fine." Sha Monk said: "Rhubarb is bitter in taste, cold in nature, and without poison. Its nature sinks and does not float; its use travels and does not stay. It clears every stagnation, leaving no blockage; it settles disorder and brings peace—so it is called 'the General.' It is a traveling drug; but I fear a long sickness has left him weak, and it should not be used." Pilgrim laughed: "You do not know, brother. This drug frees the phlegm, settles the breath, and sweeps away the hot-and-cold staleness in the belly. Never mind me. Go and take one ounce of croton seeds, shell them, strip the skins, beat out the poisonous oil, and grind them fine." Bajie said: "Croton is acrid in taste, hot in nature, and poisonous. It cuts down hard accumulations and sweeps the deep cold from lungs and gut; it opens what is shut and clears the road for water and grain. It is the general who breaks the pass and bursts the gate—it must not be used lightly." Pilgrim said: "You do not know either, brother. This drug breaks knots and opens the bowel, and can mend a swollen heart and dropsy. Make it up quickly; I have assisting drugs to go with them."

The two ground the drugs fine at once and said: "Brother, which of the other few dozen drugs do you want?" Pilgrim said: "None of them." Bajie said: "Eight hundred and eight drugs, three catties each, and you use only these two ounces—truly to make game of us." Pilgrim held up a flowered porcelain cup: "Say no more, brother. Take this cup and scrape half a cup of soot from the bottom of the pot." Bajie said: "What for?" Pilgrim said: "It goes in the medicine." Sha Monk said: "I never heard of pot soot in medicine." Pilgrim said: "Pot soot is called 'the bloom of a hundred herbs'; it can set right a hundred sicknesses—you did not know." The Idiot scraped half a cup and ground it fine.

Pilgrim handed him the cup again: "Now go and fetch half a cup of our horse's water." Bajie said: "What for?" Pilgrim said: "To make the pills with." Sha Monk laughed: "Brother, this is no joke. Horse water stinks and reeks—how can it go into medicine? I have heard of pills made with vinegar paste, with old rice paste, with boiled honey, or with plain water—but horse water? That stuff is rank and strong; a man of weak spleen would vomit at the smell of it. Then to take croton and rhubarb on top, and have a man vomiting above and purging below—is that a joke?" Pilgrim said: "You do not know the inside of it. That horse of mine is no common horse: he was a dragon of the Western Sea by birth. If he will but pass his water, whatever the sickness, one dose cures it. Only it is hard to come by just now." Bajie went over as he was told; the horse lay tilted on the ground asleep. The Idiot gave him a kick to raise him, braced himself under his belly, and waited a good while, but not a drop came. He ran back to Pilgrim: "Brother, never mind healing the emperor—go heal the horse first. The poor creature is dried up; he will never pass a drop." Pilgrim laughed: "Come, I will go with you." Sha Monk said: "I will come and watch too."

All three stood by the horse, and the horse sprang up and spoke with a man's voice, crying in a loud voice: "Brother, do you not know? I am a flying dragon of the Western Sea. I broke the law of heaven, and the Bodhisattva Guanyin saved me: she sawed off my horns and shed my scales and made me a horse, to carry Master to the Western Heaven for scriptures and work off my crime. If I pass water in a river, the fish that eat of it become dragons; if I pass water on a mountain, the grass that takes it becomes magic lingzhi, gathered by immortal pages to lengthen life. How would I throw it away lightly in this dusty common place?" Pilgrim said: "Brother, be careful what you say. This is a kingdom of the West, not the common dust, and this is no light throwing away. The saying goes: 'Many hairs make a robe.' We are curing the king of this land. If we cure him, we all shine; if not, I fear none of us leaves this place with a whole skin." The horse said only: "Wait." See him: he thrust forward, then crouched back, ground his teeth till his whole mouth grated, and forced out a few drops, then stood up. Bajie said: "The poor wretch—if it were gold juice, he could not spare a few drops more." Pilgrim, seeing the cup a little under half full, said: "Enough, enough. Take it." Only then was Sha Monk content.

The three went back to the hall, mixed the drugs together, and rolled three large pills. Pilgrim said: "Brothers, they are too big." Bajie said: "No bigger than walnuts; by my eating, not one mouthful." They put them in a small box, and the brothers lay down in their clothes. Nothing more that night, and day broke.

Now the king, sick as he was, held court, received the Tang monk, and at once ordered the officers to hurry to the State Guesthouse, bow to the holy monk Elder Sun, and fetch the medicine.

The officers came to the guesthouse and bowed to the ground before Pilgrim: "Our king has sent us to bow and receive your wondrous dose." Pilgrim told Bajie to fetch the box, lift the lid, and hand it to the officers. They asked: "What is this medicine called, that we may report to the king?" Pilgrim said: "It is called the Black Gold Pill." Bajie and Sha Monk laughed in their sleeves: "Mixed with pot soot—why not black gold?" The officers asked: "What does one take it down with?" Pilgrim said: "There are two kinds of guides. One kind is easy to get: a decoction of six things." The officers asked: "What six?" Pilgrim said: "The fart of a crow flying in mid-sky; the water of a carp swimming against a swift current; the face powder of the Queen Mother of the West; the furnace ash of the Supreme Lord Lao's elixir; three pieces of the Jade Emperor's worn-out kerchief; and five hairs from the beard of a coiled dragon. Brew these six and wash the pill down, and your king's grief and sickness will pass in a moment." The officers said: "Such things are not of this world. May we ask what the other guide is?" Pilgrim said: "Water that has no root." The officers laughed: "That is easy to get." Pilgrim said: "How is it easy?" The officers said: "Our common usage here: for rootless water, take a bowl to the well or the river, dip up the water, and hurry home with quick steps, never setting it on the ground, never looking back, and give the sick man his medicine—that is rootless water." Pilgrim said: "Water of the well and of the river both have roots. My rootless water is not that: it is water that falls from the sky, drunk before it touches the ground—only that is rootless water." The officers said: "That too is easy. Wait for a cloudy, rainy day, and then take the medicine."

So they thanked Pilgrim and carried the medicine back and offered it. The king rejoiced and told his attendants to bring it up, and looked at it: "What pills are these?" The officers said: "The holy monk calls it the Black Gold Pill, to be taken down with rootless water." The king told the palace people to fetch rootless water. The officers said: "The holy monk says rootless water is not of well or river, but only what falls from the sky and has not touched the ground." The king called the master of carriages and gave his decree: let priests of prayer be asked to bring rain. The officers obeyed and posted the notice—there we leave it.

Now Pilgrim in the guesthouse hall called to Zhu Bajie: "I promised them sky-fallen water before the medicine could be taken, and they are in a hurry now—where would rain come from? It seems to me this king is a truly worthy and virtuous ruler; let us help him to a little rain for his medicine—what do you say?" Bajie said: "How would we help?" Pilgrim said: "Stand at my left, and be my helper star." And to Sha Monk: "Stand at my right, and be my aid mansion. Old Sun will help him to a little rootless water." A fine Great Sage! He stepped the Dipper steps, said a spell, and at once a black cloud came up from the due east and drew near overhead, and a voice said: "Great Sage, Ao Guang, Dragon King of the Eastern Sea, has come to see you." Pilgrim said: "I would not trouble you without cause: I have asked you to help me to a little rootless water for the king's medicine." The Dragon King said: "When the Great Sage called me, you said nothing of water; the small dragon came alone, with no rain-making gear, and no wind, cloud, thunder, or lightning with him. How can I make rain?" Pilgrim said: "No wind, cloud, thunder, or lightning is wanted now, nor much rain—only a little water to wash the medicine down." The Dragon King said: "Then I will sneeze twice, and spit some spittle and dribble for his medicine." Pilgrim rejoiced: "Best, best. No delay—do it quickly."

The old dragon let his black cloud sink slowly through the air to hang over the palace, hid his form, spat a mouthful of spittle, and turned it into sweet rain. The whole court cried out together: "A thousand joys to our sovereign—heaven has sent down sweet rain!" The king at once sent his decree: "Bring vessels, every one; within the palace and without, high and low, everyone is to catch this immortal water and save my life." See the civil and military officers, the consorts of the three palaces and six courts, the three thousand painted maids and the eight hundred fair ones, each holding up cups and goblets, bowls and plates, to catch the sweet rain. The old dragon worked his spittle in midair, never leaving the palace, front or back. It lasted near an hour; then the Dragon King took leave of the Great Sage and returned to the sea. The ministers gathered up their cups and bowls: some had caught a drop or two, some three or five drops, some not one; all poured together made about three cupfuls, and the whole was offered up on the royal desk. Truly a rare perfume filled the Golden Luan Hall, and a fine savor floated through the Son of Heaven's court.

The king took leave of the master of the law and carried the Black Gold Pill and the sweet rain into the palace. First he swallowed one pill and drank one cup of rain; then a second pill and a second cup; a third time, and all three pills were down and three cups of rain had washed them. Soon his belly rumbled, like the never-ending creak of a well windlass. He had the close stool brought, and went three or five times. He took some rice gruel and lay back on the dragon bed. Two consorts looked into the close stool—no words for the filth and phlegm—and in it a ball of glutinous rice. The consort came to the dragon bed and reported: "The root of the sickness has all passed out of him." The king heard and rejoiced greatly, and took another meal of rice.

Soon he felt his chest wide and easy, his blood and breath in tune; his spirits rose, and his legs were strong. He came down from the dragon bed, put on his court robes, mounted the jeweled hall, saw the Tang monk, and bowed his whole body to the ground. The elder hurried to return the bow. When the bows were done, the king raised him with his own hands and told the grand secretaries: "Write letters quickly; on them write my words, 'I bow again and knock my head to the ground,' and send officers to invite the master's three worthy disciples. Open the Eastern Pavilion, and let the entertainments court lay a feast of thanks." The officers took the decree—some wrote the letters, some laid the feast—and truly the state, with its mountain-moving strength, had it all done in a moment.

Now Bajie, seeing the officers come with the letter, could not contain himself for joy: "Brother, it was a fine medicine after all. They come to give thanks—it is your doing." Sha Monk said: "Second brother, what talk is that? The proverb says: 'When one man has luck, the whole house shares it.' We made up the medicine together; we all have our merit. Just go and enjoy it, and no more talk." Ah! See the brothers, every one glad and merry, walking straight into court.

The officers met them and brought them up to the Eastern Pavilion, where the Tang monk, the king, and the grand secretaries were already setting out the feast. Pilgrim and Bajie and Sha Monk bowed to their master. Then all the officers came in. At the head were four plain tables, each a feast where one eats while ten dishes look on; before them one meat table, also rare dishes for one eater and ten lookers-on; and to left and right four or five hundred single tables, laid out in perfect order:

The old saying: "A hundred tastes of rare dishes, a thousand cups of noble wine; jade creams and crisp curds, brocade threads and fat red roasts."Jeweled garnishes bright as flowers; fruits of deep savor and rich scent.Molded sugars of coiling dragons, lions and immortals ranged in rows; cakes and ingots fresh from the oven, with phoenix pairs set out beside.Of meat: pork and mutton, fowl and goose, fish and duck, every kind; of meatless fare: vegetable dishes, bamboo shoots, wood-ear, and mushrooms.Several kinds of fragrant soup noodles; repeated rounds of sugar-soaked pastry.Smooth soft millet rice; fresh wild-rice gruel.Noodle soups of every kind, fragrant and hot; every course replaced, fine and sweet.King and ministers raise their cups and take their seats; by rank and degree the wine pot goes slowly round.

The king raised the cup with his own hands and first seated the Tang monk. Tripitaka said: "I do not drink wine." The king said: "It is meatless wine—will not the master drink one cup?" Tripitaka said: "Wine is the first vow of a monk." The king was much put out: "If the master may not drink, what then shall be my courtesy?" Tripitaka said: "Let my three unruly disciples drink in my place." The king was content, turned the gold goblet, and handed it to Pilgrim. Pilgrim took it, bowed to the company, and drank it off. The king, seeing him drink so briskly, offered another; Pilgrim did not refuse, and drank it. The king laughed: "Drink the Three Treasures cup." Pilgrim did not refuse, and drank again. The king called for another filling: "Drink the Four Seasons cup."

Bajie, standing by, saw the wine never came to him, and swallowed and gulped. And seeing the king press Pilgrim so hard, he called out: "Your Majesty, the medicine too was my doing; there was horse in that medicine..." Pilgrim, fearing the Idiot would give the secret away, handed Bajie the cup in his hand. Bajie took it and drank, and said nothing. The king asked: "The holy monk says there was horse in the medicine—what horse?" Pilgrim took the word out of his mouth: "My brother here is so free with his tongue—he has an old proved recipe, and he must tell everyone. Your Majesty, the medicine you took this morning contained the horse-bell fruit, ma dou ling." The king asked the officers: "What kind of drug is this ma dou ling, and what does it cure?" A physician of the medical court was by, and said: "Sovereign:

Aristolochia is bitter and cold, and without poison; it settles the panting breath and clears the phlegm, and does great service.It opens the passages best of all and drives out blood poisons; it repairs weakness, quiets the cough, and eases the middle.

The king laughed: "Well chosen, well chosen. Elder Zhu, drink another cup." The Idiot said nothing, but drank his Three Treasures cup too. The king handed Sha Monk wine, and he drank three cups, and all took their seats again.

After much feasting the king raised the great goblet and offered it to Pilgrim. Pilgrim said: "Be seated, Your Majesty. Old Sun will drink the rounds with you, and never refuse." The king said: "The holy monk's kindness is heavy as a mountain, and my thanks can never reach the end of it. Drink but this one great cup, and I have words to say." Pilgrim said: "Say your words, and old Sun will drink." The king said: "For years I have had a sickness of grief and doubt, and one dose of your divine pills has opened it and cured me." Pilgrim laughed: "Yesterday, when old Sun looked at Your Majesty, I knew it was sickness of grief and doubt—but I did not know what you grieved and doubted about." The king said: "The ancients say: 'Family shame is not told abroad.' But the holy monk is my savior; only promise not to laugh, and I will tell it." Pilgrim said: "How would I laugh? Speak freely." The king said: "Holy monk, you came from the east—through how many kingdoms have you passed?" Pilgrim said: "Some five or six." The king asked again: "And the queens of those kingdoms—how are they styled?" Pilgrim said: "The queens of kings are styled the queen of the central palace, the queen of the eastern palace, the queen of the western palace." The king said: "I do not use those styles: I call the queen of the central palace the Gold-Saint Queen, the queen of the eastern palace the Jade-Saint Queen, and the queen of the western palace the Silver-Saint Queen. Now only the Silver and the Jade queens remain in the palace." Pilgrim said: "Why is the Gold-Saint Queen not in the palace?" The king dropped tears: "She has been gone three years." Pilgrim said: "Where did she go?" The king said: "Three years ago, at the Dragon Boat Festival, my consorts and I were in the pomegranate pavilion in the royal garden, undoing rice dumplings, setting up mugwort, drinking calamus and realgar wine, watching the dragon boats race. Suddenly a wind sprang up, and a demon showed in midair, calling himself the Rival of the Great Year Star. He said he dwelt in the Cave of the Xiezhi on Qilin Mountain, that he lacked a wife in his cave, and that he had learned how fair my Gold-Saint Queen was and meant to have her for a wife, and told me to send her out quickly. If after three calls I did not give her up, he would eat me first and my ministers after, and eat the whole city's people to the last. At that time, grieving for my land and my people, I had no choice: I led the Gold-Saint Queen out of the pomegranate pavilion, and with one roar the demon snatched her away. From that shock, and the rice dumplings I had eaten, all clogged inside me; and then the grief that would not rest day or night—so this bitter sickness settled on me for three years. Now, thanks to the holy monk's divine pills, all that three-year-old clogging has passed out of me; so my body is light and my spirit as of old. Today's life is all the holy monk's gift—is it only heavy as Mount Tai!"

Hearing this, Pilgrim's heart was full; he swallowed the great cup in two gulps and asked the king, laughing: "So that was your fright and grief. You met old Sun, and luckily were cured. But tell me—do you want the Gold-Saint Queen back?" The king dropped tears: "I think of it with all my heart, day and night—only there is no one who can take that demon. How should I not want her back?" Pilgrim said: "Let old Sun go and put down the demon for you—how would that be?" The king knelt: "If you bring back my queen, I will lead my consorts and concubines out of the city to live as common people, and give up the whole realm of this kingdom to the holy monk, and let you be emperor." Bajie, seeing him speak so and kneel so, could not help laughing aloud: "The emperor has lost all dignity—to give up a kingdom for a wife and kneel to a monk!" Pilgrim hurried to raise the king: "Your Majesty, since the demon took the Gold-Saint Queen, has he come again?" The king said: "He snatched the Gold-Saint Queen at the fifth-month festival the year before last. In the tenth month he came and demanded two palace maids, saying they must serve the queen; I gave them up at once. Last year in the third month he came again for two maids; in the seventh month two more; this year in the second month two more. Who knows when he will come again?" Pilgrim said: "Since he comes so often, do you fear him?" The king said: "He has come so many times that I fear him, and fear too that he means us harm. Last year in the fourth month I had a tower built to shun the demon; when we hear the wind sigh and know he is coming, I go into the tower with my two queens and my nine concubines to hide." Pilgrim said: "If Your Majesty does not scorn me, take old Sun to see this demon-shunning tower—how would that be?" The king took Pilgrim by the left hand and led him from the table, and all the officers rose. Zhu Bajie said: "Brother, you have no manners! Such royal wine untouched, and you rock the table and break up the party—to go look at what?" The king, knowing Bajie spoke for his belly, ordered the master of carriages to carry out two plain tables with wine to wait outside the demon-shunning tower. Only then did the Idiot stop grumbling, and he said to master and Sha Monk, laughing: "Come to the second feast!"

The civil and military officers led the way; the king and Pilgrim, arm in arm, passed through the palace to the back of the royal garden, where no tower or hall was to be seen. Pilgrim said: "Where is the demon-shunning tower?" Before the words were done, two eunuchs with two red-lacquered bars lifted out a square stone slab from the open ground. The king said: "Here it is. Below is a hollow more than three zhang deep, dug into nine audience halls; in it stand four great vats filled with clear oil, with lamps burning day and night without cease. When I hear the wind sigh, I go inside to hide, and men outside cover it with the stone slab." Pilgrim laughed: "Then the demon does not truly mean you harm. If he meant you harm, how would you hide here?" As he spoke, from the due south came the sighing of wind, throwing up dust. The officers cried out in a body: "This monk has a salt-and-sauce mouth—speak of a demon and here he comes!" The king, in a panic, dropped Pilgrim's hand and dived into the pit; the Tang monk followed; and the officers hid themselves clean away.

Bajie and Sha Monk would have hidden too, but Pilgrim held one in each hand: "Brothers, don't be afraid. Let us look the fellow over and see what monster he is." Bajie said: "What rot! Why look at him? The officers have hidden, Master is tucked away, the king is safe below—and we stay? Whose house are we showing off?" The Idiot strained left and right but could not free his hands. Pilgrim held them fast, and in midair a demon flashed into view. And how did he look?

Nine feet of body, foul and fierce; a pair of ringed eyes flashing golden lamps.Two jutting ears like spread fans; four steel teeth like driven nails.Red hair curled about his temples, brows bristling flame; a wine-dark nose, nostrils open and wide.A few whisker-threads like cinnabar wire; jagged cheekbones, his whole face blue-green.Red cords of muscle in two arms, indigo hands; ten sharp claws holding up a spear.A leopard-skin skirt bound at his waist; bare feet, shock head, like a demon's shape.

Pilgrim looked and said: "Sha Monk, do you know him?" Sha Monk said: "I never made his acquaintance—how would I know him?" He asked again: "Bajie, do you know him?" Bajie said: "I never drank tea or wine with him, nor is he a friend or a neighbor—how would I know him?" Pilgrim said: "He looks like the dye-faced gold-eyed ghost that keeps the gate under the God of the Eastern Peak." Bajie said: "Not him, not him." Pilgrim said: "How do you know it is not he?" Bajie said: "A ghost is a spirit of the dark, and only comes out from the hours of shen, you, xu, and hai on. It is now but the hour of si—what ghost would dare be out? And if it were a ghost, it could not ride a cloud. Even if it could stir a wind, it would be but a whirlwind—would that be such a gale? Maybe it is the Rival of the Great Year himself." Pilgrim laughed: "Good Idiot—there is some sense in that. If so, you two keep guard here while old Sun goes to ask his name and title, and then we can win back the Gold-Saint Queen for the king." Bajie said: "Go, by all means—but do not give us away." Pilgrim made no answer, but shot up his lucky light and leapt aloft. Ah! And so it was:

To settle a realm, first drive out the king's sickness; to keep the Way, root out the heart's loves and hates.

But how he would fare up in the air, what the victory would be, how the monster would be taken and the Gold-Saint Queen rescued—who could tell? Listen to the next chapter to find out.