Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Now then, the three of them made their way through the woods. They found the Fool tied to a tree, crying out loudly, unable to bear the pain. The Patriarch of Pilgrimage (Xingzhe) came forward and laughed, saying, "What a fine son-in-law! It's late and you still haven't gotten up to thank your parents for the marriage, nor have you gone to report the happy news to our master. Instead you're here performing acrobatics for fun. Hey! Where's your mother? Where's your wife? What a fine son-in-law, strung up and stretched out like that!" When the Fool saw him coming to mock him, he bit his teeth, endured the pain, and dared not cry out. Sha Wujing (Shaseng) saw this and could not bear it. He set down his luggage, went forward, and untied the rope to rescue him. The Fool could only kowtow to them, overwhelmed with shame. A *Xijiang Yue* verse attests to this:

Lust is the sword that wounds the body,

And greed will surely bring downfall.

A maiden of sixteen with lovely adornments

Is fiercer than a yaksha in might.

There is but one original essence,

And no small profit to add to one's purse.

Guard well your capital and store it safely;

Stand firm and do not let yourself run wild.

Then Bajie (Bajie) gathered earth and burned incense, bowing toward the sky. The Patriarch of Pilgrimage said, "Do you recognize those bodhisattvas?" Bajie said, "I was so dizzy and confused, my eyes were blurred—how could I recognize anyone?" The Patriarch of Pilgrimage handed the note to Bajie. When Bajie saw it was a hymn, he felt all the more ashamed. Sha Wujing laughed and said, "Second Brother, you have such good fortune! You moved four bodhisattvas to come and arrange a marriage for you." Bajie said, "Brother, don't mention it again—I'm not fit to be called a man. From now on, I will never act recklessly again. Even if it breaks my bones, I'll just rub shoulders and carry the load, following the master to the Western Regions." The Tripitaka (Sanzang) said, "If that is so, then you have spoken rightly."

The Patriarch of Pilgrimage then led his master onto the main road. After traveling for some time, they suddenly saw a high mountain blocking their path. The Tripitaka reined in his horse and halted, saying, "Disciples, there is a mountain ahead. We must be careful—I fear there may be demons causing trouble and harming us." The Patriarch of Pilgrimage said, "With the three of us here before the horse, why fear any demons?" With this, the elder pressed forward with peace of mind. Now this mountain was truly a magnificent mountain:

Lofty and precipitous, its grandeur towering and majestic. Its roots joined the veins of Mount Kunlun; its summit brushed the heavens. White cranes often came to roost among the cypresses and junipers; dark gibbons frequently swung from the rattan vines. In the sunlight, the clear forests were wrapped in layer upon layer of red mist; from the dark valleys, the wind bore ten thousand drifting streaks of colored cloud. Hidden birds cried out among the green bamboo; golden pheasants fought among the wildflowers. There were the Thousand-Year Peak, the Five-Blessings Peak, and the Hibiscus Peak, rising solemnly and emitting a radiant light; the Ten-Thousand-Year Stone, the Tiger-Tooth Stone, and the Three-Heavens Stone, jutting forth and giving off auspicious vapors. Before the cliffs, the grasses were lush; upon the ridge, the plum blossoms were fragrant. Thorns grew dense and thick; orchids were pure and delicate. In the deep forests, phoenixes and eagles gathered a thousand birds; in the ancient caves, the qilin ruled over ten thousand beasts. The stream water was affectionate, winding and curving, lingering as it flowed; the peaks and ridges were unending, layer upon layer, circling back upon themselves. There too were green catalpas, mottled bamboos, and blue-green pines, competing in splendor for a thousand years; white plums, red peaches, and emerald willows, glowing brightly and vying in beauty through the three months of spring. Dragons roared and tigers howled; cranes danced and gibbons cried. Deer emerged from among the flowers; blue phoenixes sang facing the sun. It was truly a blessed immortal mountain, no different from Penglai or Langyuan. And there too were the scenes of flowers blooming and fading on the mountain peaks, and clouds coming and going upon the ridges.

The Tripitaka, from horseback, said joyfully, "Disciples, ever since I came west, I have passed through many mountains and rivers—all of them steep and perilous places. None compared to the fine scenery of this mountain; truly it possesses extraordinary charm. If we are not far from the Thunder Monastery, we should compose ourselves with dignity to see the World-Honored One." The Patriarch of Pilgrimage laughed and said, "Not yet, not yet—we are far from arriving!" Sha Wujing said, "Senior Brother, how far are we from the Thunder Monastery?" The Patriarch of Pilgrimage said, "A hundred and eight thousand li. Of the ten stages of the journey, we have not yet completed one." Bajie said, "Brother, how many years will it take to get there?" The Patriarch of Pilgrimage said, "As for these roads, if it were up to my two worthy younger brothers, you could arrive in ten days or so. As for me, I could make fifty trips in a single day and still see the sun. As for the master—don't think about it, don't think about it." The Tripitaka said, "Wukong, how long do you say it will take to arrive?" The Patriarch of Pilgrimage said, "If you walk from youth to old age, then grow young again, and repeat this a thousand times, you still might not make it. As long as you see your nature with sincerity, and turn your mind back at every moment, that turning back is the Vulture Peak." Sha Wujing said, "Senior Brother, although this is not the Thunder Monastery, judging from these surroundings, there must be a good person dwelling here." The Patriarch of Pilgrimage said, "That is well said. There are certainly no evil spirits here—it must be the home of a holy monk or an immortal. Let us take our time and enjoy the scenery." But no more of this.

Now this mountain was called Longevity Mountain (Wanshou Shan). On the mountain was a Taoist temple called the Wuzhuang Temple (Wuzhuang Guan). In the temple lived an immortal called Zhenyuanzi (Zhenyuanzi), whose worldly name was "He Who Lives in Harmony with the World." The temple possessed a rare treasure, a spiritual root produced when primal chaos first divided and the universe began to take form, before heaven and earth had separated. Of the four great continents of the world, only the Wuzhuang Temple in Western Continent of Cattle and Blessings (Xiniu Hezhou) produced this fruit. It was called the Restoring Elixir Herb (Caohuan Dan), also known as the Ginseng Fruit (Renshen Guo). It bloomed once every three thousand years, bore fruit once every three thousand years, and took another three thousand years to ripen—in all, a full ten thousand years before it could be eaten. In that ten thousand years, it produced only thirty fruits. The fruits looked like infants not yet three days old, with all four limbs complete and all five senses fully formed. If a person had the fortune to smell one, they would live three hundred and sixty years; to eat one would grant forty-seven thousand years of life.

On that day, the Great Immortal Zhenyuan received a note from the Primordial Heavenly Lord inviting him to the Shangqing Heaven's Mi Luo Palace to listen to a lecture on the "Dao Fruit of Primordial Chaos." The Great Immortal's disciples who had become scattered immortals were beyond counting; at present, there were still forty-eight disciples, all perfected Daoists. On that day, he led forty-six of them up to the heavens to listen to the lecture, leaving behind two very young ones to watch the house: one was called Qingfeng, and the other Mingyue. Qingfeng was only one thousand three hundred and twenty years old, while Mingyue had just turned one thousand two hundred. The Immortal Zhenyuan instructed the two boys: "You must not disregard the Great Heavenly Lord's note. I am going to the Mi Luo Palace to listen to the lecture. You two must be careful at home. In a few days, an old friend will pass by here—do not be rude to him. You may knock down two of my ginseng fruits and give them to him to eat, as a token of our former friendship." The two boys asked, "Who is the master's old friend? Please tell us, disciples, so that we may receive him properly." The Great Immortal said, "He is the holy monk of the Great Tang Empire in the East, whose Dao name is Sanzang, a monk who is now traveling to the West to worship Buddha and seek the scriptures." The two boys laughed and said, "Confucius said, 'Those whose paths are different cannot plan together.' We are disciples of the Great Unity's Mysterious Gate—how could we even know such a monk?" The Great Immortal said, "You do not understand. That monk is the reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, the second disciple of the Sacred Old Tathagata Buddha of the West. Five hundred years ago, I met him at the Ullambana Assembly. He personally served me tea, and the Buddha's disciple showed me respect—hence he is an old friend."

Upon hearing this, the two immortal boys respectfully obeyed their master's command. Before departing, the Great Immortal again gave them earnest instructions: "My fruits are numbered. You may give him only two, and must not spend more than that." Qingfeng said, "When the garden was opened, all of us together ate two; there are still twenty-eight on the tree. We dare not spend more." The Great Immortal said, "Although Sanzang of Tang is an old friend, you must be on guard against his underlings causing a commotion—do not alarm him into knowing." The two boys received their orders, and the Great Immortal, together with his many disciples, rose into the air and ascended straight to the celestial realm.

Now let us speak of Tang Sanzang and his four companions as they wandered through the mountains. Suddenly they looked up and saw a cluster of pines and bamboos, and several tiers of towers and pavilions. Sanzang said, "Wukong, what place do you think that is?" The Pilgrim looked and said, "That place is not a Daoist temple—it must be a Buddhist monastery. Let us walk over there and find out for certain." In no time, they arrived at the gate and observed:

The pine slopes were cool and serene; the bamboo paths were tranquil and deep. White cranes came and went amid drifting clouds; gibbons above and below offered fruit from time to time. Before the gate, the pond was wide and the tree shadows long; stones were cracked and moss flowers broken. The palaces rose in dense array, purple reaching to the highest heavens; the towers and terraces were ethereal, crimson mists descending. Truly it was a blessed land, a sacred realm, a cloud-cave of Penglai. In this pure and empty place, worldly affairs were few, and stillness gave birth to the heart of the Dao. Blue birds often carried messages from the Queen Mother of the West; purple phoenixes constantly bore scriptures from Lord Lao. One could never tire of gazing upon the majestic winds of virtue—indeed, it was the silent dwelling-place of immortals.

The Venerable Sanzang dismounted from his horse. Then he saw a stone tablet to the left of the mountain gate, upon which were inscribed ten large characters: "Blessed Land of the Longevity Mountain, Cave-Heaven of the Five Manor Temple." The elder said, "Disciples, it truly is a Daoist temple." Sha Wujing said, "Master, judging from this splendid scenery, there must be good people dwelling within. Let us go in and have a look. If we complete our journey and return to the East, this place would be a sight worth seeing." The Pilgrim said, "Well said." So they all went in together, and upon the second gate they saw a couplet on either side:

"The immortal's mansion where one lives long and never grows old;

The Daoist's home that shares its lifespan with Heaven."

The Pilgrim laughed and said: "This Daoist makes big words to frighten people. When I, old Sun, created havoc in the Heavenly Palace five hundred years ago, I never saw such words even at the gate of the Supreme Lord Lao." Zhu Bajie said: "Never mind that. Let us go in, go in. Perhaps this Daoist has some virtue—we cannot know yet."

When they reached the second gate, they saw two little boys hurrying out from within. Observe how they were dressed:

Their bones were pure and their spirits fresh, their faces lovely and fair;

Their hair was tied in short tufts in the style of youths.

Their Daoist robes naturally wrapped them in mist;

Their feathered garments fluttered in the wind at their sleeves.

Their girdles were tightly knotted in dragon-head clasps;

Their straw shoes were lightly bound with silkworm-spun floss.

Their extraordinary grace and bearing marked them as no ordinary mortals—

They were precisely the two immortal boys, Qingfeng and Mingyue.

The boys bowed deeply and came out to greet them: "Honored teacher, we have been remiss in our welcome. Please sit down." The elder was delighted, and together with the two boys he entered the main hall to look around. It was a south-facing hall of five bays, all fitted with carved lattice screens, bright above and dim below. The immortal boys pushed open the lattice screens and invited Sanzang into the hall. There, on the central wall, hung two large characters—"Heaven and Earth"—mounted in five colors. Before them stood a vermillion lacquered carved incense table, upon which was a set of golden burners and vases, with incense conveniently placed beside the burner.

Tang Seng stepped forward, pinched incense with his left hand, placed it in the burner, and bowed three times in reverence. When he had finished, he turned and said, "Immortal Boy, your Wuzhen Temple is truly a Western paradise of the immortals. Why do you not offer sacrifices to the Three Pure Ones, the Four Sovereigns, and all the celestial ministers of the Heavenly Court? Why do you only serve the incense and worship of the two characters 'Heaven and Earth'?"

The boy laughed and said, "To be honest with you, Master, those two characters—the one above is worthy of our reverence; the one below cannot receive our incense and offerings. It was my master who flatteringly devised it."

Tang Seng said, "What do you mean by 'flatteringly devised'?"

The boy said, "The Three Pure Ones are my master's friends; the Four Sovereigns are his old acquaintances; the Nine Luminaries are his juniors; and the Principal Stars are his humble guests."

When the Pilgrim heard this, he burst out laughing and nearly fell over. Zhu Bajie said, "Brother, why are you laughing?" The Pilgrim said, "I always thought I was the one who could pull tricks, but it turns out this Daoist boy can spin tall tales."

Tang Seng said, "Where is your master?"

The boy said, "My master received a summons from the Primordial Heavenly Lord and has gone to the Miru Palace in the Upper Clarity Heaven to attend a lecture on the 'Fruit of the Primordial Chaos.' He is not at home."

When the Pilgrim heard this, he could not restrain himself and shouted: "This stinking Daoist boy! You don't even know who people are, and yet you pull tricks before us, setting up empty pretenses! Who in the Miru Palace is a Taiyi Immortal of Heaven? What would they want with you, you wretched cloven-hoofed ox?"

Tang Seng saw that he was getting angry, and fearing that the boy might talk back and cause trouble, said, "Wukong, stop arguing. Since we have come in, to leave now would show a lack of courtesy. As the saying says, 'The heron does not eat the flesh of a heron.' Since his master is not here, why cause a disturbance? Go and tend the horse at the gate; Sha Seng, watch the luggage; tell Bajie to open the bundles and take some rice and grain. Borrow their kitchen stove and cook a meal. When we are about to leave, give them a few coins for the firewood, and that will be that. Each of you attend to your duties. Let me rest here for a while, and we shall leave after the meal."

The three of them indeed went off to attend to their respective tasks.

Mingyue and Qingfeng secretly praised him without end, saying, "What a fine monk! He truly is a holy sage descended from the West, with his true essence undimmed. Our master instructed us to receive Tang Seng and give him the man-fruits to eat, to express the affection of old friendship; and he also told us to beware of his underlings causing trouble. Indeed, those three have fierce faces and rough tempers. Fortunately, we have sent them away; had they stayed nearby, how could we have shown them the man-fruits?"

Qingfeng said, "Brother, we still don't know whether that monk is indeed our master's old friend. Let us ask him, so as not to make a mistake."

The two boys stepped forward again and said, "May we ask, Master, are you Tang Seng of the Great Tang, journeying west to fetch the scriptures?"

The elder returned the bow and said, "This poor monk is he. How does the immortal boy know my humble name?"

The boy said, "Before our master departed, he instructed us to come far to greet you. We did not expect your carriage to arrive so soon, and we failed to welcome you properly. Please be seated, Master, while I prepare tea to offer you."

Tang Seng said, "I dare not trouble you."

Mingyue hurried back to his room, fetched a cup of fragrant tea, and presented it to the elder. When the tea was finished, Qingfeng said, "Brother, we must not disobey our master's orders. Let us go and fetch the fruits."

The two boys took their leave of Tang Seng and went together to their room. One took the golden striker, the other took the cinnabar tray, and they also laid a green cloth to line the bottom of the tray. They went straight to the man-fruit garden. Qingfeng climbed up the tree and used the golden striker to knock down the fruits. Mingyue stood below the tree and caught them in the cinnabar tray. In a short while, he knocked down two fruits and caught them in the tray. They went straight to the front hall and presented them, saying, "Master Tang, our Wuzhen Temple is in a remote and desolate mountain region, and we have nothing to offer you. These two native fruits are humble gifts to quench your thirst."

When the elder saw them, he trembled with fear and backed away three feet, saying, "Goodness! Goodness! This year there is indeed a bountiful harvest, but why does this temple suffer famine to the point of eating people? This is an infant not yet three days old—how can it be used to quench my thirst?"

Qingfeng thought to himself, "This monk, having spent his life amid gossip and in a sea of right and wrong, has become so worldly in his eyes and flesh that he does not recognize the rare treasure of our immortal household."

Mingyue stepped forward and said, "Master, this is called a man-fruit. There is no harm in eating one."

Tang Seng said, "Nonsense, nonsense! His parents endured untold suffering during pregnancy before he was born. Not yet three days old, and you would take him and treat him as a fruit?"

Qingfeng said, "It truly grows on the tree."

The elder said, "Absurd, absurd! How could a tree give birth to a person? Take it away—I cannot accept this, for it is not right."

The two boys saw that he refused a thousand times and would not eat, so they had no choice but to take the tray and return to their room. The fruits were indeed peculiar—they could not be left for long; if kept too long, they would become stiff and unfit to eat. The two of them went to their room, each took one, sat on the edge of the bed, and ate to their hearts' content.

Ah! So there was something of this sort after all. The Daoists' quarters shared a thin wall with the kitchen, so whispers on one side could easily be heard on the other. Zhu Bajie was in the kitchen cooking when he first heard them mention fetching the Golden Mallet and taking the cinnabar tray—this already caught his attention. Then he heard them say that Tang Seng didn't recognize the ginseng fruit for what it was and had taken it into their quarters to eat it themselves. Unable to contain himself, Bajie drooled and said, "How I'd love to taste just one!" But his own body was too clumsy and unwieldy to manage it, so he waited for Wukong to come and scheme with him. By the stove door he lost all interest in tending the fire, craning his neck and poking his head out from time to time to watch. Before long, he saw Wukong lead the horse over, tie it to the locust tree, and head straight toward the back. The idiot beckoned frantically: "Over here, over here!" Wukong turned and came to the kitchen door. "Idiot, what are you shouting about? If there's not enough rice, let the old monk eat his fill first. We'll go beg for more at a big household up ahead." Bajie said, "Come in here—it's not about the rice. There's a treasure in this monastery. Do you know about it?" Wukong said, "What treasure?" Bajie grinned. "Tell it to you, you've never seen it. Show it to you, you wouldn't recognize it." Wukong said, "This idiot is making fun of old Sun. Five hundred years ago, when I was seeking the immortal way, I roamed the ends of the earth—what haven't I seen?" Bajie said, "Brother, have you ever seen a ginseng fruit?" Wukong said in surprise, "That I truly have never seen. But I've often heard people say the ginseng fruit is the Restorative Elixir—if a person eats it, it can greatly prolong life. Where can one be found?" Bajie said, "They have them here. The two boys offered two to our master, but the old monk didn't recognize them and said they were infants less than three days old, so he didn't dare eat them. Those boys are terribly lazy—since our master wouldn't eat them, they should have offered them to us. Instead they hid it from us and ate them themselves, one each, in the room next door, gobbling them down with a gu-zhou gu-zhou. It made my mouth water. How I'd love to taste just one! I think you're rather nimble—why not slip into their garden and steal a few to try?" Wukong said, "That's easy. Old Sun will go and have them in hand in no time." He started to hurry off, but Bajie grabbed him. "Brother, I heard them say in that room that they're going to use some kind of Golden Mallet to strike them down. You must do this properly and not let word leak out." Wukong said, "I know, I know."

The Great Sage used his invisibility technique and slipped into the Daoists' quarters. It turned out the two boys had eaten the fruit and gone up to the main hall to speak with Tang Seng—they were not in their room. Wukong looked around for the Golden Mallet. All he saw was a piece of red gold hanging on the window lattice, about two feet long and as thick as a finger; the bottom had a knob like a garlic bulb, and the top had an eye through which a green velvet cord was threaded. He said, "This must be what they call the Golden Mallet." He took it down, left the quarters, and went straight to the back. He pushed open two doors and looked up—ah! It was a garden! He saw:

Crimson railings and precious balustrades, winding steps and mountain-like mounds. Exotic flowers vied with the radiant sun in beauty; emerald bamboo rivaled the blue sky in verdant hue. Beyond the winding-cup pavilion, a bend of green willows trailed like mist; before the moon-viewing terrace, clusters of tall pines were splashed like indigo. Red and lush, the brocade-nest pomegranate; green and trailing, the embroidered-mound grass; tender and soft, the green-sandy orchids; gently swaying, the waterside plants. Sweet osmanthus mirrored the golden-well phoenix tree; brocade locusts stood beside the crimson railings and jade steps. There were thousand-petal peaches, some red, some white; there were ninth-month chrysanthemums, some fragrant, some yellow. The rose trellis faced the peony pavilion; the rose-of-Sharon terrace adjoined the herb garden. One could never tire of the frost-defying gentleman bamboo or the snow-scorning great lord pine. There were also crane lodges and deer residences, square ponds and round pools; spring water flowed like shattered jade, and the ground bloomed like piled gold. The north wind touched the white plum blossoms into bloom; spring came to break open the red crab-apple flowers. Truly it was the finest immortal scene on earth, the foremost flower garden in the West.

The Monkey King could not take it all in. Then he saw another gate. He pushed it open and looked—ah! It was a vegetable garden:

Planted with vegetables of the four seasons—spinach, celery, chard, ginger, and shoots. Bamboo shoots, yams, gourds, and water bamboo; scallions, garlic, coriander, and Chinese leeks. Arrowhead, taro, sow-thistle, and bitter herbs; gourts and eggplants to be cultivated. Turnips and radishes buried like sheep's heads; red amaranth, green cabbage, and purple mustard.

Wukong laughed. "He's a Daoist who grows his own food and eats it himself."

Past the vegetable garden was yet another gate. He pushed it open and looked—ah! Right in the center stood a great tree, truly with lush green branches and dense, shadowy leaves. The leaves resembled those of a plantain, and the tree rose straight up over a thousand feet high, with roots spanning seven or eight zhang in circumference. The Monkey King leaned against the trunk and looked up. On a branch facing south hung a ginseng fruit, truly just like a little child. At its base was a stem, and there it dangled from the branch, waving its hands and feet, nodding and shaking its head, and when the wind passed it seemed to make a sound. Wukong was overjoyed and said to himself in admiration, "What a treasure! Truly rare, truly rare!" Leaning against the tree, he shot upward with a swish. This monkey was, after all, the foremost expert at climbing trees and stealing fruit. He tapped the fruit with the Golden Mallet, and the fruit fell down with a thud. He jumped down after it to look for it, but it had vanished without a trace. He searched through the grass all around—there was no sign of it.

"Wondrous, indeed, wondrous!" said the Pilgrim. "I suppose anything with legs can walk and can jump over walls. I understand now—it must be the local spirit of the garden who wouldn't allow old Sun to steal his fruit, so he took it back."

He worked his magic, murmured the syllable "Om," and summoned the local spirit of the garden. The spirit came forward and bowed to the Pilgrim. "Great Sage, what is your command in summoning this little deity?"

"You don't know that old Sun is the most notorious thief in all the world," said the Pilgrim. "When I stole the Peaches of Immortality, pilfered the Imperial Wine, and filched the Sacred Elixir, no one dared to demand a share from me. How is it that today, when I steal a single fruit, you snatch away my prize? This fruit grows on a tree—even birds flying through the air should have a share. If old Sun eats just one, what great harm is there? Why, the moment I knock it down, you scoop it up?"

"Great Sage has wrongly blamed this little deity," said the local spirit. "This treasure belongs to an Earthly Immortal. This little deity is merely a ghostly immortal—how would I dare take it? I wouldn't even have the fortune to smell it."

"If you didn't take it," said the Pilgrim, "why did it disappear the moment I knocked it down?"

"Great Sage knows only that this treasure prolongs life, but you do not yet know its origin," said the local spirit.

"What origin does it have?"

"This treasure flowers once every three thousand years, bears fruit once every three thousand years, and takes another three thousand years to ripen. In a full ten thousand years, only thirty are produced. Those with the fortune to smell one will live three hundred and sixty years; those who eat one will live forty-seven thousand years. But it is only that it fears the Five Elements."

"How does it fear the Five Elements?"

"This fruit falls when it meets metal, withers when it meets wood, dissolves when it meets water, scorches when it meets fire, and enters the earth when it meets soil. It must be struck with a metal implement to bring it down. Once struck, it must be caught on a tray lined with a silk handkerchief. If it touches anything wooden, it withers and will no longer prolong life even if eaten. To eat it, one must use porcelain and dissolve it in clear water. It scorches upon meeting fire and becomes useless. As for entering the earth—when Great Sage just now knocked it to the ground, it immediately burrowed into the soil. This soil is forty-seven thousand years old; even a steel drill could not bore into it the slightest bit. It is three or four times harder than raw iron. If a person eats it, that is why they attain immortality. If Great Sage does not believe this, you may strike the ground and see for yourself."

The Pilgrim at once seized his golden-banded iron rod and struck the ground. There was a clang, the rod bounced back, and not a single mark appeared on the soil. "So it is, so it is!" said the Pilgrim. "My staff can shatter rocks to powder and leave marks on raw iron, yet this blow didn't damage it in the slightest. In that case, I have wrongly blamed you. You may go back."

The local spirit returned to his temple.

The Great Sage, however, had a plan. He climbed the tree, using one hand to wield the rattle-stick and with the other hand pulling up the front of his brocade robe to make a pouch. He moved from branch to branch and among the leaves, knocking down three fruits and catching them in his robe. He jumped down from the tree and went straight to the kitchen.

"Wah!" said Eight Rules with a laugh. "Brother, did you get any?"

"Isn't this it?" said the Pilgrim. "Old Sun's success was assured. We shouldn't keep this fruit from Sagittarius—let's call him over."

Eight Rules beckoned and called out, "Wujing, come here!"

Sagittarius put down his luggage and ran into the kitchen. "Brother, what do you want?"

The Pilgrim opened his robe pouch. "Brother, look—what is this thing?"

Sagittarius looked at it and said, "It's a ginseng fruit."

"Well, well!" said the Pilgrim. "So you recognize it. Where have you eaten it before?"

"I haven't eaten it," said Sagittarius, "but in the old days when I served as the Curtain-Lifting General and attended the chariot to the Peach Banquet, I saw various foreign immortals present this fruit to the Queen Mother as a birthday offering. I've seen it, but I've never eaten it. Brother, could you give me a taste?"

"No need to ask," said the Pilgrim. "Each of us brothers shall have one."

The three of them each enjoyed one fruit. Eight Rules had a huge appetite and a large mouth. For one thing, he had already felt his gluttonous worms stirring when he heard the boys eating earlier. Now that he saw the fruit, he grabbed it, opened his mouth wide, and gulped it down whole in one swallow. Then he stared with blank eyes and tried to cheat, saying to the Pilgrim and Sagittarius, "What were you two eating?"

"Ginseng fruit," said Sagittarius.

"What did it taste like?"

"Wujing, don't pay him any mind," said the Pilgrim. "You ate yours first, and now you're asking others?"

"Brother, I ate in too much of a hurry," said Eight Rules. "Unlike you two, chewing slowly and savoring the flavor. I don't even know if there was a pit or not—I just swallowed it whole. Brother, if you're going to do something, do it thoroughly. You've already stirred up my gluttonous worms. Go get another one so that old Pig can eat it slowly and properly."

"Brother, you really don't know when to stop," said the Pilgrim. "This thing isn't like rice or flour, where you can eat until you're stuffed. In ten thousand years, only thirty are produced. For us to eat even one is a matter of great karmic fortune—it's no small matter. Enough, enough, enough!"

He leaned forward, took the golden rattle-stick, and through the window dropped it into the boys' quarters, paying Eight Rules no further attention.

The idiot kept muttering and grumbling on and on. It so happened that the two boys came back into the room to fetch tea to present, and they heard Eight Rules still clamoring about how "eating the ginseng fruit wasn't satisfying enough—it would be better to have another one to eat."

Qingfeng heard this and grew suspicious. "Mingyue, did you hear that long-mouthed monk saying, 'I want another ginseng fruit to eat'? Our master gave us strict instructions before he left to watch out for his disciples' mischief. Could it be that he stole our treasure?"

Mingyue turned around and said, "Brother, this is bad, this is bad! Why is the golden rattle-stick lying on the ground? Let's go to the garden and take a look."

The two of them hurried along and found the garden gate open. Qingfeng said, "I closed this gate myself—how could it be open?" They rushed through the garden and saw that the vegetable garden gate was also open. They hastened into the ginseng fruit garden, leaned against a tree, and looked up to count the fruit, going back and forth repeatedly. There were only twenty-two left. Mingyue said, "Can you do arithmetic?" Qingfeng said, "I can. Tell me the figures." Mingyue said, "There were originally thirty fruits. When our master opened the garden, he ate two, leaving twenty-eight. Just now we struck down two for the Tang monk to eat, leaving twenty-six. Now there are only twenty-two—that's four missing! No need to say more, no need to say more—it must have been that bunch of villains who stole them. Let's go curse out the Tang monk."

The two of them left the garden gate and went straight to the hall, pointing at the Tang monk, calling him baldy this and baldy that, pouring out filthy abuse without cease—acting like thieving rats, spewing foul and stinking words, shouting with ill temper. The Tang monk could not bear it and said, "Young immortal, what is all this commotion about? Calm yourself. If you have something to say, speak slowly—there's no need to babble nonsense." Qingfeng said, "Are you deaf? Am I speaking gibberish that you can't understand? You stole and ate the ginseng fruit—how can you not let me speak?" The Tang monk said, "What does the ginseng fruit look like?" Mingyue said, "We just brought it for you to eat—didn't you say it looked like a child?" The Tang monk said, "Amitabha! The moment I saw that thing, my heart trembled with fear—how would I dare steal and eat it? Even if I were tormented by gluttony, I would not commit such a thieving act. Do not wrongly accuse me." Qingfeng said, "Even if you didn't eat it yourself, your disciples might have stolen it." Tripitaka said, "That's a fair point too. Don't shout—let me question them. If they did steal it, I'll make them compensate you." Mingyue said, "Compensate? Even if you had money, where could you buy such a thing?" Tripitaka said, "Even if you had money and nowhere to buy it, as the saying goes, 'Goodness is worth a thousand pieces of gold.' Let them offer you an apology and we'll consider the matter settled. Besides, we still don't know whether it was them or not." Mingyue said, "How could it not be them? They're dividing things unevenly and still arguing over it in there." Tripitaka called out, "Disciples, come here, all of you." Sha Wujing heard and said, "This is bad—it's leaked. The old master is calling us, and the young Taoists are cursing and shouting. If this isn't the old story having blown the wind, then what is it?" Sun Wukong said, "This is a living shame. This is nothing more than a matter of food and drink. If it comes out, it'll look like we stole a taste—just don't admit it." Zhu Bajie said, "Exactly, exactly—let's just keep quiet about it." The three of them had no choice but to leave the kitchen and go up to the hall.

How they would manage to deny it all—that, gentle reader, you will have to wait for the next chapter to learn.