Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Now Sun Wukong had already descended from his cloud and told his master everything about how the Bodhisattva had borrowed the boy and Lord Lao had taken back the treasures. Tang Sanzang expressed his gratitude without end, and with a heart firmly resolved and the deepest sincerity, he committed his life to the journey westward. He mounted the horse, Zhu Bajie shouldered the luggage, Sha Wujing held the bridle, and Sun Wukong gripped his iron staff, cutting a path forward as they descended the high mountain. Words cannot tell of their lodging by streams and dining on the wind, of braving frost and enduring dew.

After the master and disciples had traveled for some time, another mountain blocked their path. Sanzang, from atop his horse, called out: "Disciples, look at the towering peaks of that mountain. We must be on our guard, for there may be demons and obstacles waiting to attack us!" Wukong said, "Master, do not let your thoughts wander. Simply preserve your nature and keep your spirit settled, and naturally nothing will happen." Sanzang said: "Ah, disciples, why is the journey to the Western Heaven so difficult? I remember leaving Chang'an, and along the way spring ended and summer came, autumn faded and winter arrived—it has been four or five years, yet we still haven't reached our destination!" At this, Wukong laughed and said: "It's early, it's early! We haven't even left the front gate yet." Bajie said: "Brother, don't tell such tall tales. Is there really a gate that big in the mortal world?" Wukong said: "Brother, we're still just wandering around the main hall." Sha Wujing laughed and said: "Elder Brother, stop boasting to frighten me. Even if there were a hall that grand, there'd be nowhere to buy a crossbeam that enormous!" Wukong said: "Brother, if you ask old Sun, I'd say we take the blue sky as our roof tiles, the sun and moon as our window lattices, the four mountains and five peaks as our pillars and beams, and heaven and earth as one great open hall." Bajie, hearing this, said: "Enough, enough! Let's just turn back sometime." Wukong said: "Stop this idle talk and just follow old Sun on the road."

The great Sage, slinging his iron staff across his shoulders, led Tang Sanzang and cut a path through the mountain as they advanced straight ahead. The master, from atop his horse, gazed afar at the splendid mountain scenery. Truly:

The mountain peaks rose crudely, scraping the handle of the Dipper; the treetops seemed to touch the clouds. Amid the blue smoke, one now and then heard gibbons crying in the valley mouth; within the tangled green shadows, one constantly heard cranes calling among the pines. Mountain spirits howled in the wind by the stream, playing tricks on woodcutters; cunning foxes sat by the cliff's edge, startling hunters. What a mountain! See its eight faces of craggy precipices, its four sides of sheer danger. Strange, towering pines spread their canopies of green; withered old trees were draped with wisteria vines. Waterfalls cascaded, their chill piercing one's very hair with cold; the peaks stood tall, their clear winds striking the eyes and startling the soul. Now and then one heard the roar of great tigers, constantly the calls of mountain birds. Herds of muntjacs and deer threaded through the brambles, leaping back and forth; packs of river deer sought wild food in the fields, running to and fro. Standing on the grassy slope, one looked out and saw no travelers at all; coming into the deep hollow, on all sides there were jackals and wolves. Surely no place for a Buddha to cultivate—entirely a domain of flying birds and running beasts.

The master trembled with fear as he entered this deep mountain, his heart full of sorrow. He reined in his horse and called out: "Wukong! Ever since

I resolved to climb the mountain and grow in wisdom,

Wangbuliuxing escorted me from the city.

On the road I met Sanlengzi,

Along the way Madouling urged the horse on.

Searching slopes and crossing streams, I sought Jingjie,

Climbing ridges and ascending mountains, I bowed to Fuling.

With Fangji, my whole body is like bamboo sap—

When, with Huixiang, shall I pay court to the Emperor?"

The Great Sage Wukong, hearing this, said with a cold laugh: "Master, do not worry, do not be anxious. Just set your mind at ease and advance—you will achieve success when your efforts are sufficient." The master and disciples enjoyed the mountain scenery and strolled at leisure, when before they knew it, the red wheel of the sun had sunk in the west. Indeed:

At the ten-mile pavilion, no travelers walked;

In the nine heavens above, the stars appeared.

On the eight rivers, all boats had returned to harbor;

In the seven thousand prefectures and counties, every gate was shut.

The six palaces and five ministries sent officials home;

On the four seas and three rivers, all fishing lines were stowed.

From two towers, the bells and drums sounded;

One bright moon filled the whole of heaven and earth.

The elder, from atop his horse, gazed afar and saw in the mountain hollow layered pavilions and stacked towers, hall upon hall. Sanzang said: "Disciples, it is now late in the day. Fortunately, over there not far away are buildings—most likely a nunnery or a monastery. Let us go there and ask for lodging for the night, and continue tomorrow." Wukong said: "Master speaks rightly. Don't be hasty—let me first see whether it is good or bad." The Great Sage leaped into the air and looked carefully. Indeed, it was a temple gate. He saw:

Eight-character brick walls plastered with red powder,

On both sides, the doors studded with golden nails.

Layered pavilions hidden by the mountain's edge,

Tiered palaces concealed within the mountains.

The Pavilion of Ten Thousand Buddhas faced the Hall of Tathagata,

The Tower of Morning Sun corresponded to the Gate of Great Heroism.

The seven-storied pagoda gathered clouds and lodged mist,

The Three Noble Buddhas shone with glory.

The Terrace of Manjushri faced the Sangharama quarters,

The Hall of Maitreya leaned against the Hall of Great Compassion.

Beyond the Mountain-Viewing Tower, blue light danced;

Above the Pavilion of Pacing the Void, purple clouds arose.

Pine gates and bamboo courtyards, lush and green,

Abbot's quarters and meditation halls, everywhere serene.

Refined and secluded, they offered pleasures,

Winding and flowing, they welcomed joyfully.

In the meditation places, monks lectured on Chan;

In the music rooms, many instruments resounded.

On the wondrous high terrace, epiphyllum flowers fell;

Before the dharma platform, palm-leaf scriptures grew.

Indeed, the forest sheltered the Land of the Three Treasures,

The mountains embraced the palace of the Brahma King.

Half a wall of lamplight flickered and glowed,

A line of fragrant incense drifted through the mist.

The Great Sage Sun Wukong pressed down his cloud and reported to Sanzang: "Master, it is indeed a monastery. It will do nicely for lodging. Let us go."

The Elder let go of his horse and walked straight ahead, arriving directly at the mountain gate. Pilgrim said, "Master, what temple is this?" Tripitaka said, "My horse's hooves have only just stopped, and my foot hasn't even left the stirrup, yet you ask me what temple this is—how utterly obtuse!" Pilgrim said, "You, venerable sir, have been a monk since childhood. You must have studied the Confucian classics before you could expound the scriptures and doctrines. Your literary and philosophical learning is thorough, and only then did you receive the grace and pardon of the Tang Emperor. There are such large characters on the gate—how can you not recognize them?" The Elder scolded, "You wretched monkey! Speaking without sense. I was urging my horse westward, and the sun's rays were shining in my eyes. Though there are characters on the gate, they are obscured by dust and grime, so I couldn't see them." Upon hearing this, Pilgrim bent his waist and grew more than twenty feet tall. He brushed away the dust with his hand and said, "Master, please look." There were five large characters reading: "Imperial Bestowal Baolin Temple." Pilgrim收回 his magical form and said, "Master, who should go inside this temple to ask for lodging?" Tripitaka said, "I will go. Your faces are ugly, your speech is coarse, and your tempers are fierce and arrogant. If you offend the monks here and they refuse us lodging, that would be unfortunate." Pilgrim said, "In that case, please go in, Master, and say no more."

The Elder set down his staff, removed his cape, straightened his robes, and pressed his palms together, then entered straight through the mountain gate. He saw that inside the red-lacquered railings on both sides, a pair of Diamond Guardians sat in high seats, sculpted with a fierce and hideous majesty:

One had an iron face and steel whiskers as if alive; the other had bristling brows and round eyes like exquisite carvings. The one on the left had knobby fists like raw iron; the one on the right had rugged palms that rivaled red copper. Golden chain mail gleamed brilliantly; bright helmets and embroidered sashes fluttered as if in the wind. The Western Land truly abounds in offerings to Buddha—incense burned red in the stone censer between them.

When Tripitaka saw them, he nodded and sighed deeply, "If only someone in my Eastern Land could mold clay images of such great Bodhisattvas and burn incense to worship them, this disciple of mine would not need to go to the Western Heaven." Just as he was sighing, he arrived inside the second mountain gate. There he saw images of the Four Heavenly Kings—Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Vaiśravaṇa, Virūḍhaka, and Virūpākṣa—arranged according to the northeast-southwest directions to bring favorable winds and timely rain. Entering through the second gate, he saw four tall pine trees, each with a lush canopy spreading like an umbrella. Suddenly raising his head, he beheld the Great Hero Hall. The Elder pressed his palms together in devotion and prostrated himself. After rising, he turned past the Buddha platform and came to the rear gate. There he saw an image of Avalokiteśvara facing backward, delivering beings across the Southern Sea. On the walls were exquisitely crafted sculptures by skilled artisans of shrimp, fish, crabs, and turtles, emerging from the waves, tails exposed, playing in the surging seawater. The Elder nodded three or five times and sighed countless times, "How pitiful! Even creatures of scale and shell bow to Buddha—why will men not cultivate themselves?"

Just as he was sighing in admiration, he saw a Daoist priest walk out from the third gate. The priest suddenly noticed Tripitaka's extraordinary appearance and distinguished bearing. He hurried forward and bowed, saying, "Where does this master come from?" Tripitaka said, "This disciple has been sent by the throne of the Great Tang in the East to worship Buddha and seek scriptures in the Western Heaven. Now that I have arrived at this sacred place and the day is drawing to a close, I beg lodging for the night." The Daoist priest said, "Master, do not blame me—I cannot make the decision. I am merely the sweeper, bell-ringer, and laborer here. Inside there is an abboting master who manages affairs. Let me go in and report to him. If he keeps you, I will come out to invite you; if he does not, I dare not detain you." Tripitaka said, "I am indebted to you."

The Daoist priest hurried to the abbot's quarters and reported, "Venerable sir, there is a person outside." The monastic official immediately rose, changed his clothes, adjusted his pilu hat, put on his kasaya, and hastily opened the door to greet him. He asked the Daoist priest, "Where is this person from?" The priest pointed and said, "Isn't that a person by the back of the main hall?" There was Tripitaka, with his head shaved bare, wearing a twenty-five-striped Damo robe, his feet in a pair of mud-splattered Dagong shoes, leaning against the rear gate. When the monastic official saw him, he flew into a rage and said, "Daoist, you deserve a beating! Don't you know I am the monastic official? I only come out to greet when gentlemen from the city come to offer incense. For a monk like this, how can you be so full of empty flattery and report to me to receive him? Judging by his face, he is no honest man—most likely a wandering monk. The day is late, and he probably wants to ask for lodging. How can our abbot's quarters tolerate his disturbance? Tell him to squat in the front corridor—why report to me?" He turned and walked away.

When the Elder heard this, tears filled his eyes. "How pitiful, how pitiful! This is what they mean by 'a man away from home is despised.' This disciple of mine has been a monk since childhood. I have never broken my fasts, eaten meat, or harbored evil thoughts. I have never read scriptures with anger or corrupted my meditative mind. I have never thrown tiles or bricks to damage a Buddhist temple, nor stripped gold from the face of an Arhat. Alas! How pitiful! I wonder what offense I gave to Heaven and Earth in a past life, that in this life I constantly meet unkind people.—Monk, if you won't give us lodging, so be well and good, but why speak such lazy, careless words, telling us to squat in the front corridor? It would be well if you hadn't said this to Pilgrim. If you had, that monkey would come in and with one swing of his iron staff break your legs!" The Elder said, "Very well, very well. As the saying goes, 'A man should begin with courtesy and propriety.' Let me go in and ask him once more and see what he intends."

The master followed his footsteps and entered the abbot's chamber. There he saw the monk-official, clothes removed, sitting there in a huff. It was unclear whether he was reciting sutras or writing ritual documents for someone, for on the desk lay a pile of papers. Tang Sanzang dared not go further and stood in the courtyard, bowing respectfully and calling out, "Elder Abbot, your disciple greets you."

The monk showed some displeasure at his coming inside, and returned a perfunctory half-bow, saying, "Where are you from?"

Sanzang replied, "Your disciple was sent by the Great Tang Emperor in the East to worship the Living Buddha in the West and seek the scriptures. Passing through your venerable temple, and finding it late in the day, I beg to stay the night. I will be gone by first light tomorrow. I earnestly hope the Elder Abbot will be accommodating."

Only then did the monk-official rise slightly and say, "Are you that Tang Sanzang?"

Sanzang said, "I would not presume, but I am indeed he."

The monk-official said, "If you are going west to fetch the scriptures, how can you not even know the way?"

Sanzang said, "Your disciple has never traveled this road before."

He said, "Due west, only four or five *li* away, there is a thirty-*li* inn where people sell meals and lodging is convenient. Here it is not convenient—I cannot well keep monks who have come from far away."

Sanzang pressed his palms together and said, "Abbot, the ancients said: 'Hermitages, monasteries, and temples are all lodging houses for our fellow monks; at every mountain gate there are three pecks of rice to share.' Why will you not keep me? What is the reason?"

The monk-official cried out angrily, "You wandering monk, you speak with a slick and oily tongue!"

Sanzang said, "What do you mean by a slick and oily tongue?"

The monk-official said, "The ancients said: 'When a tiger enters the city, every household closes its door. Though it bites no one, its reputation was ruined long ago.'"

Sanzang said, "What do you mean, 'its reputation was ruined long ago'?"

He said, "In years past, several traveling monks came and sat down at my mountain gate. I saw how poor and wretched they were—each one with torn clothes and no shoes, bare-headed and barefoot. I pitied their ragged state and at once invited them into the abbot's chamber, seated them in places of honor, treated them to vegetarian meals, and lent each of them an old garment. I kept them for several days. Who would have known that they grew fond of an easy life with food and clothing, and gave no thought to moving on? They stayed seven or eight years. Staying would have been one thing, but they also did many dishonest deeds."

Sanzang said, "What dishonest deeds?"

The monk-official said, "Listen to me:

In idle hours they threw tiles over the wall;

When bored, they pried nails from the wall.

In cold weather they broke window lattices for firewood;

In summer they dragged doors to block the pathway.

They tore banner cloth to make foot bindings,

And stole incense to swap for turnips.

They often tipped over the glass oil lamps,

And fought over bowls and pots."

Hearing these words, Sanzang thought to himself in his heart, "How pitiful! Could my disciples be such spineless monks?" He wanted to weep, but feared the old monks in the temple would laugh at him. Silently wiping his tears with his robe, he swallowed his anger and went out quickly to see his three disciples.

Seeing anger on his master's face, the Pilgrim stepped forward and asked, "Master, did the monks in the temple beat you?"

Tang Sanzang said, "They did not beat me."

Zhu Bajie said, "They must have beaten you! Otherwise, why is there still a sound of weeping?"

The Pilgrim said, "Did they curse you?"

Tang Sanzang said, "They did not curse me either."

The Pilgrim said, "Since they neither beat nor cursed you, why are you so distressed? Could it be that you are homesick?"

Tang Sanzang said, "Disciple, it is not convenient here."

The Pilgrim laughed and said, "Could this be a Daoist temple?"

Tang Sanzang said angrily, "Only in a Daoist temple would there be Daoists; in a Buddhist temple there are only monks."

The Pilgrim said, "You are no good at this. But monks are just like us. As the saying goes: 'All who are under the assembly of the Buddha are people with karmic ties.' You sit here and wait. Let me go in and have a look."

So the fine Pilgrim pressed down his golden headband, tightened his skirt around his waist, grasped his iron staff, and went straight to the Great Hero Hall. Pointing at the three Buddha statues, he said, "You are nothing but clay figures gilded in gold—surely there is no true spirit within! Old Sun is escorting the holy monk of the Great Tang to worship the Buddha in the West and obtain the true scriptures. Tonight we have come here to seek lodging. Report our presence at once! If you do not keep us, I will smash your golden bodies with one beating of my staff and reduce you back to your original form of clay."

While the Great Sage was making threats and talking wildly up front, a Daoist who burned evening incense came in, lit several sticks, and inserted them into the censer before the Buddha. The Pilgrim gave a fierce shout, and the man was so frightened he fell. He got up, saw the Pilgrim's face, and fell again. Terrified, he stumbled and rolled into the abbot's chamber and reported, "Sir, there is a monk outside."

The monk-official said, "You Daoists are all useless. I already told you to make him crouch in the front corridor—why report again? Say one more word and you get twenty blows."

The Daoist said, "Sir, this monk is different from the other one: he is fierce-looking and has no backbone."

The monk-official said, "What does he look like?"

The Daoist said, "He has round eyes, protruding ears, a face covered in hair, and a mouth like the God of Thunder. He holds a staff in his hand, grits his teeth fiercely, and looks as if he wants to find someone to beat."

The monk-official said, "Let me go out and see."

He opened the door, and in burst the Great Sage—truly a hideous sight: a face as uneven as a cliff, two yellow eyes, a bony forehead, and fangs jutting outward. He was like a crab—the flesh on the inside, the bones on the outside. The old abbot, in a panic, slammed the gate to the abbot's quarters shut. The Great Sage rushed forward and smashed through the door with a single blow, crying, "Hurry up and sweep out a thousand clean rooms—old Sun wants to sleep!"

The abbot hid in his quarters and said to one of the novices, "I thought he was just ugly, but it turns out his face got twisted from boasting. Here we have the abbot's quarters, the Buddha Hall, the drum and bell towers, and the two corridors—all together not even three hundred rooms. And he wants a thousand rooms to sleep in? Where is he going to get them?"

The novice said, "Master, I'm a man whose gall has already burst from fright. Just agree with him however you please."

The abbot, trembling and shaking, shouted at the top of his lungs, "Honored guest seeking lodging, our little barren mountain is not convenient for you. We dare not presume to keep you—please go and stay elsewhere!"

The Great Sage made his staff as thick as a basin and planted it upright in the courtyard. "Monk, if it's not convenient, then move out."

The abbot said, "We have lived in this monastery since we were young. Our master's master passed it to our master, our master passed it to us, and we are to pass it on to our descendants far into the future. We don't know what sort of business this is—to come barging in and tell us to move!"

The novice said, "Old lord, this is truly most awkward. We might as well move out—that pole has already smashed through our gate!"

The abbot said, "Don't talk nonsense. We are four or five hundred monks, old and young alike. Where would we move? And even if we moved out, there's nowhere to stay."

The Great Sage heard this and said, "Monk, if you have nowhere to move, then send someone out to sample a staff-stroke."

The old abbot called to the novice, "You go out and sample a staff-stroke for me."

The novice was terrified. "Grandfather! That massive pole—you want me to sample a staff-stroke?"

The old abbot said, "An army is fed for a thousand days to be used for one morning. Why won't you go out?"

The novice said, "That pole—I'm not even talking about it striking. If it fell over, it would squash me into meat paste."

The old abbot said, "Never mind being crushed—just think of it standing upright in the courtyard. If we're walking at night and forget about it, we'd crack a great hole in our heads."

The novice said, "Master, you know how heavy it is—why are you making me go out to sample a staff-stroke?" And so they argued among themselves inside.

The Great Sage listened and said, "That's true—they really can't take it. If I were to strike and kill one with a single blow, my master would scold me for committing murder. Let me find something else to strike and show you."

He suddenly looked up and saw a stone lion outside the gate to the abbot's quarters. He raised his staff and brought it down with a bang, smashing it to smithereens. The monks, watching through the window frames, were so frightened that their bones turned soft and their sinews went limp. The abbot frantically crawled under his bed; the novice dove into the stove opening, crying out without cease, "Grandfather, the staff is heavy, too heavy to bear! Have mercy, have mercy!"

The Great Sage said, "Monk, I'm not going to hit you. I'll ask you: how many monks are in this monastery?"

The abbot replied, trembling, "There are two hundred and eighty-five sections in front and behind, with five hundred monks in all who hold ordination certificates."

The Great Sage said, "Quickly now—assemble all five hundred monks in neat and proper order, put on your long robes, and go out to welcome my Tang master inside. Then I won't hit you."

The abbot said, "Grandfather, if you won't hit us, we'll carry him in on our shoulders!"

The Great Sage said, "Do it quickly."

The abbot called to the novice, "Don't say your gall has burst—even if your heart has burst, go and summon these people to come receive Old Master Tang."

The novice had no choice. He risked his life, not daring to go through the gate, but crawled out through the dog hole at the back. He went straight to the main hall, beat the drum on the east side and struck the bell on the west. When the bell and drum sounded together, the monks in the two corridors, great and small, were startled. They came up to the hall and asked, "It's neither early nor late—why are you striking the bell and beating the drum?"

The novice said, "Quickly change your clothes and line up with the senior monks. Go out the mountain gate to welcome the lord who has come from the Tang dynasty."

The monks indeed arranged themselves in neat and proper order and filed out the gate to welcome the guest. Some wore their kasayas; some wore their half-robes; those with nothing else wore a patched robe; and those who were truly destitute, having no long garment at all, took their waist skirts and wrapped two of them around themselves.

The Great Sage looked at them and said, "Monks, what are you wearing?"

The monks, seeing his hideous face, said, "Grandfather, don't hit us—let me explain. This is cloth we begged in the city. There are no tailors here, so we made these ourselves—they're called 'one-wrap rags.'"

The Great Sage smiled to himself at these words. He escorted the monks out and made them kneel outside the mountain gate. The abbot kowtowed and shouted loudly, "Lord Tang, please take a seat in the abbot's quarters."

Pigsy saw this and said, "Master, you're really useless. When you went in, your eyes were full of tears and your mouth could have hung an oil bottle from it. How did Senior Brother manage to be so clever as to make them kowtow and come out to welcome us?"

Tripitaka said, "You stupid fool, you have no manners at all. As the saying goes: 'Even ghosts fear wicked men.'"

Tripitaka was deeply moved by their kowtowing and bowing. He stepped forward and said, "Please, all of you, rise."

The monks knocked their heads on the ground and said, "Lord, if you would only say a kind word to your disciple and tell him not to use that pole, we would be happy to kneel here for a month."

Tripitaka said, "Wukong, don't hit them."

The Great Sage said, "I haven't hit them. If I had, I would have already smashed them to pieces by now."

Only then did the monks get to their feet. Some led the horse, some carried the luggage, some bore Tripitaka on their shoulders, some carried Pigsy on their backs, and some supported Sha Wujing. Together they all entered through the mountain gate and proceeded to the abbot's quarters in the rear, where they took their seats in proper order.

The monks again bowed in reverence. Tripitaka said, "Abbot, please rise. No more ceremony—you humble this poor monk. We are all disciples of the Buddha." The monastic official said, "Your Excellency is an envoy from a great kingdom, and this little monk failed to greet you properly. Now that you have come to this desolate mountain, my vulgar eyes failed to recognize your noble bearing, and we have met by chance. May I ask, Your Excellency: along the road, do you eat vegetarian food or meat? So that we may prepare a meal accordingly." Tripitaka said, "Vegetarian." The monastic official said, "Disciples, this master prefers meat." Wukong said, "We also eat vegetarian—we have been vegetarian since birth." The monk said, "Master! Such fierce men eat vegetarian?" One bolder monk stepped forward and asked, "Since Your Excellency eats vegetarian, how much rice should be cooked to fill everyone?" Bajie said, "Petty little monk, why ask? Cook a whole dan of rice for each household." The monks were all alarmed and hurried off to scour the pots and stoves, and each chamber set about preparing tea and meals. They lit bright lamps, arranged tables and chairs, and hosted Tripitaka.

When the master and disciples had finished their evening meal, the monks cleared away the dishes. Tripitaka offered his thanks: "Old Abbot, we have troubled your precious mountain." The monastic official said, "Not at all, not at all. We have been remiss, remiss." Tripitaka said, "Where shall my disciples and I rest for the night?" The monastic official said, "Your Excellency need not hurry; this little monk will make arrangements." He called out, "Temple servants—how many men are available in the western wing?" The servants replied, "Master, there are some." The monastic official instructed them: "Send two of you to prepare fodder and feed the Tang master's horse. Send several others to sweep the three meditation halls in the front, clean them thoroughly, and make up the bedding. Quickly invite His Excellency to retire."

The servants obeyed, each attending to his task, and then came to invite the Tang master to rest. The master and disciples led the horse and carried the loads out of the abbot's quarters, proceeding straight to the entrance of the meditation halls. Inside, they saw bright lamps burning, and 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Tripitaka said, "Very well. My disciples have had a hard journey, so go and sleep first. Let me read through this scroll of scripture." Wukong said, "You are mistaken, Master. You left home as a young man and became a monk — which of the scriptures from your younger days would you not know by heart? And yet you received the Tang Emperor's decree to travel west to see the Buddha and obtain the true scriptures of the Great Vehicle. Now your task is not yet complete, the Buddha has not been seen, and the scriptures have not been obtained — which scroll of scripture are you reciting?" Tripitaka said, "Ever since I left Chang'an, I have pressed on each day and hurried on each hour. I fear the scriptures from my youth may have grown rusty. Fortunately, I have a free evening tonight, so let me review and refresh my memory." Wukong said, "Since that is the case, we shall go to sleep first." The three of them each lay down on a rattan bed. The elder closed the meditation hall door, trimmed high the silver lamp, spread open his scripture, and read in silence. Truly it was:

At the first evening drum, the world grew still and the people's fires dimmed;

On the wild shore, the fishing boats had put out their lights.

How the elder left the temple — of this you shall hear in the next chapter.