Chapter 59

Chapter 59

Though natures differ in countless kinds, all share one source—like the sea that holds the boundless deep. A thousand thoughts and myriad schemes end in delusion still; yet all forms, all hues, may blend and merge as one. When the day comes that merit's done and deeds are fulfilled, the Dharma-nature shines round and supreme, exalted and supreme. Let not divergence lead you wandering east or west—bind it fast, lock it firm. Gather it back and set it within the alchemist's furnace; refine it till it glows as red as the golden crow. Bright and radiant, lovely and resplendent, let it come and go, riding the dragon at will.

The tale tells that the Tang Monk, heeding the Bodhisattva's instruction, had taken the Pilgrim back. Together with Bajie and Sha Monk, they cut away their divided hearts, locked the ape and tethered the horse, joining their strength as one and pressing on toward the Western Heaven. Needless to say, time flew like an arrow and the days shuttled like a weaver's shuttle. They passed through the scorching days of summer and arrived at the frosty scene of autumn's third month. And what they saw was this:

Thin clouds severed, the west wind keen;

Cranes cry afar, the frost-bound hills a brocade sheen.

The landscape lies in bleak and chill—

The mountains stretch far, the waters farther still.

Wild geese come from the northern frontier;

Swallows return to the southern lane.

The traveler's road fears loneliness and dread;

The monk's thin robe grows easily cold.

As the four pilgrims pressed on, they gradually felt the heat rising about them. The Tang Monk reined his horse and said, "It is autumn now—how is it that the air is so hot?"

Bajie said, "You don't know this, Master. On the road to the West there is a country called Sihali, where the sun sets. The common folk call it the End of the World. When it reaches the hours of Shen and You, the king sends men up onto the city walls to beat drums and blow horns, mingling the sounds with the roaring of the sea. For the sun is the true fire of heaven, and when it drops into the western sea, it is like fire meeting water—the noise of it seething and bubbling is deafening. If the sound of drums and horns did not mingle with it, the very noise would kill the small children in the city. Since the air here is so hot, we must be near the place where the sun sets."

The Great Sage, hearing this, could not restrain a laugh. "Don't talk such nonsense, dullard! If you speak of the Sihali country, we're still far from it. At the rate our Master dawdles—now advancing, now retreating—we'd go from youth to old age and back to youth again, three lifetimes over, and still not arrive."

Bajie said, "Brother, if it's not the place where the sun sets, as you claim, then why is it so unbearably hot?"

Sha Monk said, "Perhaps the seasons are out of order—autumn acting as summer."

As the three of them argued, they saw by the roadside a manor with houses roofed in red tiles, walls of red brick, red-lacquered doors, and red-painted couches—everything was red. The Tang Monk dismounted and said, "Wukong, go to that household and inquire what the cause of this heat is."

The Great Sage put away his iron rod, straightened his robes, put on a scholarly air, left the main road, and went straight to the gate to look. Suddenly an old man came out of the gate. He wore:

A hempen robe, neither quite yellow nor quite red; a bamboo-thread hat, neither quite green nor quite black; in his hand he crooked a bamboo staff, neither quite bent nor quite straight; on his feet he shuffled in a pair of shoes, neither quite new nor quite worn. His face was like red copper; his beard, like white silk. Two long brows shaded his deep-set eyes; a grinning mouth revealed gold teeth.

The old man looked up sharply, saw the Pilgrim, and started in alarm. Leaning on his bamboo staff, he shouted, "What sort of strange creature are you, and what business do you have at my gate?"

The Pilgrim bowed and said, "Good sir, do not fear me. I am no strange creature. My master is an envoy of the Great Tang in the East, sent to the West to seek the scriptures. We four have just arrived in this blessed land. Finding the air so hot, we do not understand the reason, nor do we know the name of this place. We have come especially to seek your guidance."

The old man was reassured and smiled. "Forgive me, Reverend Sir. This old fool's eyes are dim and I did not recognize your honorable face."

The Pilgrim said, "You do me too much honor."

The old man asked again, "Where is your master?"

The Pilgrim said, "Isn't that him standing on the road to the south?"

The old man said, "Please invite him in, please invite him in."

The Pilgrim was delighted. He beckoned with his hand, and the Tang Monk, together with Bajie and Sha Monk, leading the white horse and carrying the luggage, came forward and all bowed to the old man.

The old man saw that the Tang Monk was dignified and handsome, while Bajie and Sha Monk were oddly formed, and he was both startled and pleased. He could only invite them inside to sit and told the servants to serve tea while preparing a meal in the side room.

The Tang Monk, hearing this, rose and said with thanks, "May I ask, sir: why is it so hot here in autumn?"

The old man said, "This place is called the Fiery Mountains. It has neither spring nor summer—all four seasons are hot."

The Tang Monk said, "Where are the Fiery Mountains? Do they block the road to the West?"

The old man said, "You cannot go to the West. Those mountains are sixty li from here and lie directly on the road one must take to the West. For eight hundred li there is nothing but fire, and for miles around not a blade of grass grows. If you tried to cross them, even a man with a copper skull and an iron body would be melted to liquid."

The Tang Monk turned deathly pale with fright and dared ask no more.

Just then a young man appeared outside the gate, pushing a red cart. He stopped beside the gate and cried, "Cakes for sale!"

The Great Sage plucked a hair and turned it into a copper coin, then asked the man to sell him a cake. The man took the coin, not bothering to examine it, unwrapped the cloth covering the cart, and from the billowing steam pulled out a hot cake, which he handed to the Pilgrim.

The Pilgrim held it in his palm—it was like a burning coal from the fire, a red-hot nail from the forge. He tossed it from his left hand to his right, then from his right back to his left, exclaiming, "Hot, hot, hot! Impossible to eat!"

The young man laughed and said, "If you fear the heat, don't come here. Here it is always this hot."

The Pilgrim said, "You, sir, show poor understanding of reason. As the saying goes: 'Without cold and without heat, the five grains will not ripen.' If it is so terribly hot, where does your cake flour come from?"

The young man said, "If you wish to know where the cake flour comes from, seek the Iron-Fan Immortal."

The Pilgrim said, "What of the Iron-Fan Immortal?"

The young man said, "The Iron-Fan Immortal possesses a palm-leaf fan. If you can obtain it, one wave extinguishes the fire, two waves stir up the wind, and three waves bring down the rain. Then we can sow our seeds and reap our harvests in season, and so the five grains sustain our lives. Otherwise, truly not a blade of grass could grow."

When Wukong heard these words, he hurriedly stepped inside and handed the cake to Tang Sanzang, saying, "Master, don't worry and don't fret yourself sick. Eat the cake first, and then I'll tell you." The elder took the cake in hand and said to the old man of the house, "Sir, please have some cake." The old man said, "I haven't even offered you tea and rice yet—how would I dare eat your cake?" Wukong laughed and said, "Old sir, there's no need for tea and rice. Let me ask you: where does the Iron Fan Immortal live?" The old man said, "Why do you ask about him?" Wukong said, "Just now the man selling cakes said that this immortal has a palm-leaf fan. If we could obtain it, one wave would extinguish the fire, two would bring forth wind, and three would cause rain, so that this region could sow and reap in season and the people could nourish themselves with the five grains. I wish to seek him out and beg him to fan the Flames Mountain into submission so we can cross, and so that this land may harvest in its proper time and the people may live in peace." The old man said, "There is indeed such a saying, but you have no offerings—I fear that worthy sage would not come." Sanzang said, "What offerings would he want?" The old man said, "The people of this region make offerings and pay homage once every ten years—four pigs, four sheep, red silks and fine fabrics, rare fragrant fruits and seasonal produce, chickens, geese, and fine wine. After bathing and purifying themselves with reverent devotion, they journey to the immortal mountain and invite him to come out of his cave to perform his work here." Wukong said: "Where is that mountain located? What is its name? How many li is it? Let me go and ask him for the fan." The old man said, "That mountain lies to the southwest, and it is called Jade Cloud Mountain. In the mountain there is an immortal cave, called Palm-Leaf Cave. The faithful of this region who make the pilgrimage there and back take a full month—it is reckoned to be one thousand four hundred and fifty or sixty li." Wukong laughed and said, "No matter—I'll go and be back." The old man said, "Wait, wait—have some tea and food, prepare some dried provisions. You'll need two companions along the way. There are no houses on that road, and there are many wolves and tigers besides. It can't be reached in a single day—don't treat this as a joke." Wukong said: "No need, no need. I'm off." As soon as he spoke the word, he vanished. The old man cried out in alarm: "Heavenly father! He's a divine being who rides the clouds and mounts the mist!"

We shall speak no more of that family's redoubled reverence for Tripitaka. The Pilgrim, in the space of an instant, traveled straight to Jade Cloud Mountain. He pressed down his auspicious light and was just searching for the cave's entrance when he heard a tapping sound—it was a woodcutter felling trees in the mountain forest. Wukong hastened forward and then heard the man recite:

"Amid the clouds, I know my old wood,

On broken cliffs and wild grass, the road is hard to find.

I gaze west and see the morning rain arrive;

Returning south, the ford runs deep beyond the stream."

Wukong stepped forward and bowed. "Brother Woodcutter, I greet you." The woodcutter set down his axe and returned the bow. "Where are you headed, Venerable One?" Wukong said, "May I ask, Brother Woodcutter—is this Jade Cloud Mountain?" The woodcutter said, "It is." Wukong said, "Where is the Palm-Leaf Cave of the Iron Fan Immortal?" The woodcutter laughed and said, "There is indeed a Palm-Leaf Cave, but there is no Iron Fan Immortal—only an Iron Fan Princess, also called the Rakshasa Woman." Wukong said, "People say she has a palm-leaf fan that can extinguish the Flames Mountain. Could that be her?" The woodcutter said, "Yes, exactly. This sage possesses this treasure, which is skilled at extinguishing fire and protecting the people of that region, so she is called the Iron Fan Immortal. The people here have no need of her—they only know her as the Rakshasa Woman, the wife of the Great Sage Demon Bull."

When Wukong heard this, his face fell in alarm. He thought to herself, "Another enemy! When I subdued Red Boy years ago, they said this creature had raised him. Earlier, at Spring-Rupturing Cave on Mount Jieyang, I encountered her brother-in-law, and he refused to give me water, nursing thoughts of revenge. Now I've run into her parents as well—how can I ever borrow that fan?"

The woodcutter saw Wukong lost in thought, sighing without cease, and laughed. "Venerable One, you're a man of the cloth—what is there to worry about? This small path leads east; in less than five or six li you'll reach the Palm-Leaf Cave. Don't let yourself grow anxious." Wukong said, "To be honest with you, Brother Woodcutter, I am the chief disciple of the Tang monk of the Eastern Land, sent to the Western Heaven to seek the scriptures. Years ago, at Fire-Cloud Cave, I had some words with the Rakshasa's son, Red Boy. I'm afraid the Rakshasa harbors enmity and won't give me the fan—that's why I worry." The woodcutter said, "A true man knows how to read the situation and adapt. Simply make the borrowing of the fan your stated purpose; don't mention past unpleasant matters, and you'll certainly get it." At these words, Wukong bowed deeply and said, "Thank you for your teaching, Brother Woodcutter. I'm off."

He then took leave of the woodcutter and went straight to the entrance of the Palm-Leaf Cave. He saw that its two doors were tightly shut, but the scenery outside the cave was lovely and serene. What a splendid place! Truly:

The mountain takes stone for its bones; the stone serves as the essence of the earth.

Mists and rosy clouds hold the moisture of the night; moss and lichens enhance the freshness of green.

Its towering, craggy form rivals the Isles of the Blest; its quiet, fragrant flowers rival the ocean isles.

Several tall pines shelter wild cranes; a few willow trees speak with mountain orioles.

Truly it is a site of a thousand years' antiquity, the trace of immortals ten thousand ages old.

On the green phoenix tree, bright phoenixes cry; in the living stream, a dark dragon hides.

On winding paths, vines and creepers hang down; upon stone steps, rattans and vines entwine.

Apes cry upon the green cliffs, rejoicing as the moon rises; birds sing in the tall trees, delighted by the clear sky.

The shade of two bamboo groves is cool as rain; along one path, flowers grow thick as embroidered brocade.

White clouds are seen coming from distant peaks, shapeless and drifting freely upon the wind.

Wukong stepped forward and called out: "Elder Brother Bull! Open the door! Open the door!" With a creak, the cave door opened, and out walked a young woman with downy hair, carrying a flower basket in her hand and shouldering a hoe. Truly, though her clothes were plain and threadbare without adornment, her face radiated spirit and the heart of the Way. Wukong stepped forward, pressed his palms together, and said, "Little maiden, I trouble you to convey a message to the princess: I am a monk from the scriptures pilgrimage, traveling the western road. Unable to cross the Flames Mountain, I have come specially to pay my respects and borrow the Palm-Leaf Fan for a time." The young woman said, "What temple are you from? What is your name? So that I may announce you." Wukong said, "I come from the Eastern Land. My name is Sun Wukong, a monk."

The woman demon at once turned back, reentered the cave, and knelt before the Rakshasa, saying, "Grandmother, there is a monk called Sun Wukong from the East outside the cave. He wishes to see you, Grandmother, and to beg for the Banana Leaf Fan, to cross the Flames Mountain." The moment the Rakshasa heard the name "Sun Wukong," it was as though salt had been cast into fire, as though oil had been poured on flames—her face flushed crimson with rage, and fury surged wildly within her heart. She cursed aloud, "That wretched monkey! He has come to my door today!" She called out, "Maids, fetch my armor and bring me her weapons." She thereupon donned her armor and took up two precious swords with blue-green blades, then marched out in full battle array.

The Pilgrim waited outside the cave, watching furtively to see how she was dressed. He observed:

Her head was wrapped in a floral kerchief;

Her body robed in brocade cloud-girdle silk.

At her waist, twin tiger-sinew sashes bound,

Her embroidered skirt and gauze sleeves barely revealed.

Phoenix-beaked slippers, three inches small,

Dragon-whisker knee-pants with gold clasps all.

Her sword raised high, her voice seething with wrath—

Fiercer in looks than the face of the Moon Mother herself.

The Rakshasa stepped out of the cave and called loudly, "Where is Sun Wukong?" The Pilgrim came forward, bowed, and said with a salute, "Sister-in-law, old Sun is here to pay his respects." The Rakshasa snapped, "Who is your sister-in-law? Who asked for your respects?" The Pilgrim said, "The Bull Demon King of your household once swore brotherhood with old Sun—we were seven brothers in all. Now I hear that you are the honored wife of Brother Bull; how could I not call you sister-in-law?" The Rakshasa said, "You wretched monkey! Since we are bound by such brotherly ties, why did you harm my child?" The Pilgrim pretended ignorance and asked, "Who is your child?" The Rakshasa said, "My son is the Holy Infant King, the Red Boy, of Fire Cloud Cave on Blazing Mountain. You wronged him! We were just looking for a chance to find you and avenge ourselves—and now you come to my door to offer your life. Do you think I will spare you?" The Pilgrim said with a conciliatory smile, "Sister-in-law, you have not looked into the matter carefully, and you have wronged old Sun. Your son captured my master and was about to steam and boil him. Fortunately, the Bodhisattva Guanyin took him away and saved my master. He now serves the Bodhisattva as the Lads of Good Fortune, and has truly received the proper fruit of a Bodhisattva—neither born nor destroyed, neither defiled nor purified, sharing the lifespan of Heaven and Earth, coeval with the sun and the moon. Instead of thanking old Sun for preserving your son's life, you blame him—what sort of reasoning is that?" The Rakshasa said, "You smooth-tongued wretched monkey! Even if my son was not harmed, how can he ever come before me again? When will I ever see him?" The Pilgrim laughed and said, "Sister-in-law, what difficulty is there in seeing your son? Lend me the fan first. I will fan out the flames, see my master across, and then I will go to the Bodhisattva in the South Sea and ask him to come see you. I will return the fan to you then—what objection could you have? At that time, you can see whether he has suffered the slightest injury. If there is the least harm, you would have reason to blame me; but if he is as handsome as before, you ought to thank me." The Rakshasa said, "Wretched monkey! Stop your babbling. Stretch out your head and let me chop you a few times with my sword. If you can endure the pain, I will lend you the fan; if you cannot bear it, I will send you early to see the King of Hell." The Pilgrim folded his hands and stepped forward, laughing, "Sister-in-law, please say no more. Old Sun will stretch out his bald head and let you chop as many times as you wish—I simply lack the breath to protest. But you must lend me the fan." The Rakshasa would not listen to reason. She raised both hands, swung her swords, and struck the Pilgrim on the head—clang, clang, clang—more than ten blows in all. The Pilgrim took no notice whatsoever. The Rakshasa grew frightened and turned to flee. The Pilgrim said, "Where are you going, sister-in-law? Quick, lend it to me!" The Rakshasa said, "My treasure is not lightly lent." The Pilgrim said, "Since you will not lend it, taste old uncle's staff!"

The great Monkey King seized her with one hand while with the other he pulled the staff from his ear. He gave it a shake, and it was as thick as a bowl. The Rakshasa wrenched free and raised her sword to meet him. The Pilgrim then swung his staff and struck. The two fought before Emerald Cloud Mountain, setting aside all ties of kinship and speaking only of enmity. What a splendid battle it was:

The lady was a demoness by cultivation,

Who nursed a grudge against the monkey for her son.

Though the Pilgrim was fierce in his wrath,

He yielded for the sake of his master's blocked path.

He first begged to borrow the Banana Fan,

Restraining his valor with gentle patience.

The Rakshasa, ignorant, swung her swords in attack;

The Monkey King, with purpose, spoke of their kinship.

How could a woman match a man in combat?

In the end, masculine force subdues the feminine.

That golden-banded iron staff was fearsome and fell;

Those frost-blade blue swords were sharp and relentless.

They struck at each other's faces, aimed at each other's heads,

Bitterly locked in struggle, neither willing to yield.

Left they parried, right they blocked, displaying their martial arts;

Forward they pressed, backward they braced, deploying their cunning.

They had just fought to the height of their fervor

When, unawares, the sun sank in the west.

The Rakshasa hastily produced the true fan,

And with one wave, a ghost-startling wind she fanned.

The Rakshasa woman and the Pilgrim fought until evening. Seeing that the Pilgrim's staff was heavy and his techniques thorough, she judged that she could not overcome him. She thereupon took out the Banana Leaf Fan, gave it a shake, and fanned a blast of yin wind that sent the Pilgrim whirling away without a trace—there was no way to hold him back. The Rakshasa returned in victory.

The Great Sage tumbled and tossed—sinking to the left, he could not touch the ground; falling to the right, he could not stay aloft. He was like a withered leaf caught in a whirlwind, like a spent petal carried by the current. He rolled through the night until dawn, when at last he landed on a mountain and clutched a peak rock with both hands. After a long while he calmed himself and looked carefully around, and only then recognized that it was Little Mount Sumeru. The Great Sage heaved a long sigh and said, "What a vicious woman! How did she manage to send old Sun all the way here? I remember coming to this very place to beg the Bodhisattva Lingji to subdue the Yellow Wind Demon and save my master. The Yellow Wind Ridge lies some three thousand li due south from here, and now I have been blown to the northwest—who knows how many tens of thousands of li it is? Let me go down and ask the Bodhisattva Lingji for news, so I can find my way back."

While he was hesitating, the sound of a bell rang out loudly. He hurried down the slope and made straight for the monastery. The gatekeeper there recognized the Pilgrim's appearance and went inside to report, "The hairy-faced Great Sage who came here years ago to ask the Bodhisattava to subdue the Yellow Wind Demon has returned." The Bodhisattava knew it was Wukong and quickly descended from her jeweled seat to welcome him. She led him inside and they exchanged courtesies. "Congratulations! Have you returned from your scripture quest?" she asked. Wukong replied, "Not yet, not yet. Still a long way off." Lingji said, "Since you haven't reached Thunderclap Monastery yet, why have you come back to this desolate mountain?" The Pilgrim said, "Ever since you graciously subdued the Yellow Wind Demon for me last year, we have endured untold hardships along the way. Now we've reached the Fiery Mountains and cannot advance further. When I asked the locals, they told me there is an Immortal Iron Fan whose palm-leaf fan can extinguish the flames. I went to seek her out, but it turns out she is the wife of the Demon King of Bull and the mother of Red Boy. She said I had made her son into a boy attendant of Guanyin and that he could no longer visit her often, so she bore a grudge against me and refused to lend me the fan. She fought with me. When she saw that my staff was too heavy for her to withstand, she fanned me once with her fan and blew me drifting and tumbling all the way here before I finally came to rest. That is why I have presumptuously come to your monastery to ask for directions. How many leagues is it from here to the Fiery Mountains?"

Lingji laughed and said, "That woman is called the Rakshasi, also known as Princess Iron Fan. Her palm-leaf fan is actually a sacred treasure born from heaven and earth since the creation of the universe, found behind Mount Kunlun. It is a leaf of the essence of the yin principle, and therefore it can extinguish fire. If a person is fanned with it, he will be blown eighty-four thousand leagues before the yin wind subsides. From my mountain to the Fiery Mountains is only some fifty thousand leagues. This is only because the Great Sage has the ability to halt clouds, which is why you came to a stop here. If it had been an ordinary person, he could never have stopped at all." Wukong said, "Terrible, terrible! How then can my master ever cross that way?"

Lingji said, "Great Sage, rest assured. This too is part of the destined affinity of the Tang Monk, and it is meant for you to succeed." Wukong asked, "How will I succeed?" Lingji said, "I received a command from the Tathagata in former times, and he gave me a Wind-Fixing Pill and a Dragon-Subduing Staff. I have already used the Dragon-Subduing Staff to subdue the Wind Demon. The Wind-Fixing Pill has not yet found its use, but now I shall give it to you, Great Sage. It will ensure that she cannot budge you with her fan. Then you can take the fan, extinguish the fire, and accomplish this feat at once." Wukong bowed his head in gratitude, thanking her profusely. The Bodhisattava then took a brocade pouch from her sleeve, placed the Wind-Fixing Pill inside the collar of his garment, and sewed it tightly with needle and thread. She escorted him to the door and said, "I cannot detain you. Go northwest, and you will reach the Rakshasi's mountain territory."

Wukong took leave of Lingji, mounted his somersault cloud, and returned directly to Emerald Cloud Mountain, arriving in an instant. He struck the cave door with his iron staff and shouted, "Open up, open up! Old Sun has come to borrow the fan!" The young maid inside was startled and hurried to report, "Madam, the one who wants to borrow the fan is back." When the Rakshasi heard this, she was filled with alarm. "This wretched ape truly has abilities. My treasure is supposed to blow a person eighty-four thousand leagues before he can stop, yet he managed to return after being blown away just a moment ago. This time I shall fan him two or three times in succession and make sure he can never find his way back." She sprang up, dressed herself properly, took up a sword in each hand, and walked out the door. "Sun Wukong, aren't you afraid of me? Have you come looking for death again?" Wukong laughed and said, "Sister-in-law, please don't be so stingy. You must lend it to me so that I can protect the Tang Monk across the mountain, and I will return it to you at once. I am a man of utmost sincerity and integrity, not one of those petty people who borrow things and never return them."

The Rakshasi cursed him again, "Wretched monkey! How unreasonable and how senseless! I haven't yet avenged the seizure of my son, and you expect me to grant your wish for the fan? Don't you run away—take a sword from your old mother!" The Great Sage stood his ground fearlessly and met her with his iron staff. The two of them fought back and forth for five or six bouts. The Rakshasi's arms grew too weary to swing her sword, while Sun Wukong was strong and skilled in battle. Seeing that things were not going her way, she took out her fan and fanned the Pilgrim once. Wukong stood as firm as a mountain. He put away his iron staff and said with a smile, "This time is not like the last. Fan me all you like—if old Sun so much as stirs, I am no true man." The Rakshasi fanned him twice more. Indeed, he did not move. The Rakshasi was thrown into a panic. She quickly gathered up her treasure, turned back, retreated into the cave, and shut the door tightly.

Seeing her close the door, Pilgrim Sun resorted to a trick. He loosened his collar and tucked the Wind-Fixing Pill into his mouth. With a shake of his body, he transformed into a tiny cicada and slipped through a crack in the door. Inside, he heard the Rakshasi cry, "I'm thirsty! I'm thirsty! Bring me tea quickly!" A serving girl promptly brought a pot of fragrant tea and noisily poured a full bowl, the froth swirling up. Delighted, Pilgrim Sun buzzed his wings and flew down beneath the foam. The Rakshasi was parched; she took the tea and drank it down in two or three gulps. Once inside her belly, Pilgrim Sun resumed his true form and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Sister-in-law, lend me your fan!" The Rakshasi turned pale with fright and called out, "Little ones, is the front door shut?" They all replied, "It's shut." She then said, "If the door is shut, how is Sun Xingzhe calling out inside?" The serving girl said, "He's calling from inside your body!" The Rakshasi said, "Sun Xingzhe, what trick are you pulling?" Pilgrim Sun said, "Old Sun has never been one for tricks—everything I do is genuine skill and real ability. I'm already having a bit of fun inside your honored belly, and I've seen your lungs and liver. I know you must be hungry and thirsty too, so let me first give you a little snack to quench your thirst." He then kicked downward with his foot. The pain in the Rakshasi's lower belly was unbearable, and she sat on the ground crying out in agony. Pilgrim Sun said, "Sister-in-law, don't be shy—let me give you a pastry to stave off your hunger." He then butted upward with his head. The Rakshasi's heart ached unbearably; she rolled on the ground, her face turning yellow and her lips white, crying only, "Uncle Sun, spare my life!"

Pilgrim Sun then withdrew his hands and feet. "Do you recognize your uncle now? Out of consideration for your husband Brother Ox, I'll spare your life. Quickly bring me the fan so I can use it." The Rakshasi said, "Uncle, I have the fan, I have the fan—come out and take it." Pilgrim Sun said, "Bring the fan out so I can see it, then I'll come out." The Rakshasi immediately told the serving girl to bring a palm-leaf fan and hold it nearby. Pilgrim Sun crawled up to her throat and saw it. "Sister-in-law, since I've spared your life, I won't poke a hole through your ribs to get out—I'll exit through your mouth. Open your mouth three times." The Rakshasi indeed opened her mouth. Pilgrim Sun transformed back into a tiny cicada and flew out first, landing on the palm-leaf fan. The Rakshasi, unaware, opened her mouth three times and called, "Uncle, come out now!" Pilgrim Sun resumed his true form, seized the fan, and called out, "Am I not here? Thanks for the loan, thanks for the loan!" He strode off at once. The little ones hastily opened the door and let him out of the cave.

The Great Sage turned his cloud somersault and headed straight back east. In an instant he descended from the cloud and stood before the red brick wall. Zhu Bajie saw him and joyfully said, "Master, Senior Brother is here, is here!" Tripitaka, along with the old man of the village and Sha Wujing, came out to meet him and they all went inside together. Pilgrim Sun leaned the palm-leaf fan against the wall and said, "Old sir, is this the fan?" The old man said, "Yes, yes, indeed." Tripitaka was overjoyed and said, "My worthy disciple, you have rendered a tremendous service. Obtaining this treasure must have been most arduous." Pilgrim Sun said, "Arduous, yes, but let me tell you. Do you know who the Immortal of the Iron Fan is? She is actually the wife of the Ox Demon King and the mother of Red Boy. Her name is the Rakshasi, also known as Princess Iron Fan. When I went to her cave to borrow the fan, she brought up old grievances and slashed at me several times with her sword. I frightened her with my staff, and she fanned me once, sending me drifting and tumbling all the way to Little Mount Sumeru. Fortunately I met Lingji Bodhisattva, who gave me a Wind-Fixing Pill and pointed me back on my way. I returned to Emerald Cloud Mountain and saw the Rakshasi again. She tried to fan me once more, but I didn't budge, so she retreated into her cave. Old Sun then transformed into a tiny cicada and flew into the cave. She was just asking for tea, and I slipped beneath the foam and got into her belly, where I started my little performance. She couldn't bear the pain and kept calling me 'Uncle, spare my life,' willingly offering to lend me the fan. I spared her and took the fan. Once we've crossed the Flaming Mountain, I'll return it to her." When Tripitaka heard this, his gratitude was boundless.

The master and disciples all took their leave of the old man and journeyed west. After traveling about forty li, the heat gradually became stifling. Sha Wujing kept saying, "The soles of my feet are burning!" Zhu Bajie added, "My hooves are scalding!" The horse moved faster than usual, for the heat made him restless and eager to press on. Pilgrim Sun said, "Master, please dismount. Brothers, don't move. Let me fan out the fire, and after the wind and rain have cooled the ground, we'll cross the mountain." Pilgrim Sun indeed raised the fan and went straight to the edge of the flames. He fanned with all his might, and the fire on the mountain surged upward with a roar. He fanned again, and the flames grew a hundredfold. He fanned a third time, and the fire rose a thousand zhang high, gradually licking at his body. Pilgrim Sun hurried back, the hair on both his legs already burned clean off. He ran straight to Tripitaka and shouted, "Quick, go back, go back! The fire is coming, the fire is coming!"

The master mounted his horse and, together with Bajie and Sha Wujing, headed back east for more than twenty *li* before finally stopping. He said, "Wukong, how did it go?" Sun Wukong threw down the fan and said, "It's no good, no good—I was tricked by that fellow!" When Tripitaka heard this, his brows knotted in worry and his heart grew heavy with sorrow. He couldn't hold back his tears as they streamed down both cheeks, and he said, "What are we to do?"

Bajie said, "Elder Brother, why did you rush back in such a hurry? What happened?"

Wukong said, "When I fanned once with the fan, the flames roared fiercely. The second fan made the fire rage even more. The third fan sent the flames shooting up a thousand feet high. If I hadn't run fast, every last hair on my body would have been burned up!"

Bajie laughed and said, "You always used to say that thunder couldn't hurt you and fire couldn't damage you. Why are you afraid of fire now?"

Wukong said, "You dull-witted fool, you understand nothing! Back then I was on my guard and took precautions, so I wasn't harmed. Today I was only trying to fan out the flames—I didn't recite the Fire-Avoiding Spell, nor did I use the Body-Protecting Technique. That's why the hairs on my legs got burned."

Sha Wujing said, "With such fierce flames blocking the way, there's no path to the West. What are we to do?"

Bajie said, "Just pick a route where there's no fire and go that way."

Tripitaka asked, "Which direction has no fire?"

Bajie said, "The east, the south, and the north—none of them have fire."

Tripitaka then asked, "Which direction has the scriptures?"

Bajie said, "The West has the scriptures."

Tripitaka said, "I only wish to go where the scriptures are."

Sha Wujing said, "Where there are scriptures, there is fire. Where there is no fire, there are no scriptures. Truly, we are caught in a dilemma with no way forward or back."

While the master and his disciples were talking in such confusion, they suddenly heard someone call out: "Great Sage, you need not trouble yourself. Come and eat some vegetarian food, and then we can discuss the matter."

The four of them turned and looked. They saw an old man wearing a cape that fluttered in the wind, a crescent-shaped crown on his head, a dragon-headed staff in his hand, and iron-bound boots on his feet. Behind him followed a ghost with a beak like a fish and gills like a fish. On the ghost's head rested a copper basin containing steamed cakes, pastries, and cooked grain and rice. He stood by the roadside to the west and bowed, saying: "I am the local land deity of the Flaming Mountains. I know that the Great Sage is protecting the holy monk but cannot proceed. I have come specially to offer a meal."

Wukong said, "Eating a meal is a small matter. But when will these flames be extinguished so that my master can pass through?"

The land deity said, "To extinguish the flames, you must seek out the Raksha Woman and borrow the Palm-Leaf Fan."

Wukong picked up the fan from beside the road and said, "Isn't this it? The more I fan, the more the fire burns. Why is that?"

The land deity looked at it and smiled, saying, "This fan is not the real one—you've been tricked."

Wukong said, "How can I obtain the real one?"

The land deity pressed his back and bowed, smiling slightly as he said:

If you wish to borrow the real palm-leaf fan,

You must seek out the Great Mighty King.

As for what connection the Great Mighty King has with this matter, let us listen to the explanation in the next chapter.