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Chapter 4

Here is the translation of the passage from Chapter 4 of *Water Margin* (120-chapter edition):

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It was just at this moment that the Provincial Official Lu turned around and saw that the person tugging at him was none other than the old man Jin, whom he had saved at the wine shop in Weizhou. The old man dragged Lu Da to a secluded spot and said, "Sir, you are far too bold! Right now there is a placard openly posted, offering a reward of a thousand strings of cash for your arrest. Why were you looking at the poster? If this old man hadn't run into you, you would have been taken by the constables. The poster lists your age, your appearance, and your address."

Lu Da said, "I won't hide it from you. Because of you, on that day I returned to the foot of the Academy Bridge and ran right into that scoundrel Zheng the Butcher. I beat him to death with three blows, and that's why I've been on the run. I've been wandering for forty or fifty days, and I didn't expect to end up here. Why didn't you go back to the Eastern Capital? How did you come to be here as well?"

The old man Jin said, "Sir, since you saved us, this old man found a carriage and originally intended to return to the Eastern Capital. But I was afraid that man would pursue us, and you wouldn't be there to rescue us, so I didn't go to the Eastern Capital. Instead I traveled northward along the road, and I ran into an old neighbor from the capital who had come here to do business. He brought my son and me to this place. Thanks to him, he acted as a matchmaker between my daughter and a wealthy gentleman in this area, Lord Zhao. She became his concubine, and they have ample food and clothing—all thanks to you, Sir. My daughter often tells her patron of the great kindness of the Provincial Official, and that gentleman also loves the spear and the staff. He often says, 'How wonderful it would be to meet your benefactor face to face.' He longs to see you. Please come home with us for a few days, and then we can talk further."

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Provincial Official Lu walked with old Jin for less than half a li and arrived at his door. The old man lifted the curtain and called out, "My child, the great benefactor is here!" The girl, richly dressed and adorned, came out from inside. She invited Lu Da to sit in the center, and she bowed to him six times, as reverently as lighting candles before an altar. She said, "If our benefactor had not reached out to save us, how could we have today?"

When Lu Da looked at the woman, she had an entirely different charm from before—she had taken on a new grace. He observed:

Her gold hairpin slanted, half-shadowing her cloud-like black hair;

Her emerald sleeves, skillfully tailored, lightly veiling snow-white skin.

Her cherry lips were faintly flushed with pink,

Her spring-bamboo fingers half-curled like tender jade.

Her slender waist swayed gracefully—her green silk skirt revealing golden lotus steps;

Her delicate figure was light and lithe—her red embroidered jacket fitting her jade form perfectly.

Her face was stacked with the tender flowers of the third month,

Her brows swept like the tender willows of early spring.

Her fragrant flesh seemed to scatter moonlight from the Jade Terrace,

Her dark tresses were loosely gathered like clouds over the peaks of Chu.

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After the girl finished bowing, she invited the Provincial Official Lu, "Sir, please come upstairs and sit."

Lu Da said, "No need to go to any trouble. I was just about to leave."

The old man said, "Now that you have come here, how could we let you go so easily?"

The old man took his staff and bundle, and invited him upstairs to sit. The old man said, "My child, sit and keep the company of our benefactor. I will go prepare a meal."

Lu Da said, "Don't go to so much trouble. Whatever you have will do."

The old man said, "Your kindness, Sir, cannot be repaid even with one's life. A few simple dishes—it's hardly worth mentioning."

The girl kept Lu Da seated upstairs while old Jin went down and called for the young servant boy he had recently acquired. He instructed the maid to start a fire. The old man and the young servant went out to the street and bought fresh fish, young chickens, a marinated goose, fat preserved meats, and fresh seasonal fruits. He opened the wine, prepared the vegetables, and everything was soon laid out and carried upstairs. On the spring table he placed three cups and three pairs of chopsticks, and spread out the vegetables, fruits, and side dishes. The maid warmed the silver wine pot and poured the wine. The father and daughter took turns raising their cups. The old man fell to the ground and bowed.

Provincial Official Lu said, "Old man, why are you being so formal? You'll be the death of me with all this ceremony."

The old man said, "Sir, please let me explain: the day we first arrived here, I wrote a red placard and burned incense before it morning and evening, and father and daughter bowed to it on our own. Now that you have come here in person, how could we not bow?"

Lu Da said, "Truly, your devotion is rare and commendable."

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The three of them drank slowly. As evening was approaching, they suddenly heard fighting break out downstairs. Provincial Official Lu opened the window and looked down. He saw twenty or thirty men below, each carrying white wooden clubs, all shouting, "Take him down!" Among them, a man on horseback bellowed, "Don't let that thief escape!"

Lu Da saw that things looked bad. He grabbed a stool and hurled it down from the upstairs window. Old Jin quickly waved his hands and shouted, "Nobody move!" The old man rushed downstairs and went straight to the side of the man on horseback, where he said a few words. The officer laughed, then ordered the twenty or thirty men to disperse, and they each went their way.

The official dismounted and went inside. The old man brought Lu Da down, and the official prostrated himself at once, saying, "To hear of you is not to see you; to see you surpasses hearing of you. I, your humble friend, pay my respects, Righteous Sir Marshal." Lu Da asked the old Jin, "Who is this official? I've never met him before—why does he bow to this wine-loving fellow?" The old man said, "This is my son-in-law, Squire Zhao. He'd heard me say I'd brought some young gentleman up to the tavern to drink, and assumed it was a wastrel, so he led his farmhands to start a brawl. Only when I explained did he call them off." Lu Da said, "So that's it. No wonder, then." Squire Zhao invited Marshal Lu back upstairs and seated him. The old man laid out fresh cups and dishes and prepared more food and wine. Squire Zhao insisted Lu Da take the seat of honor. Lu Da said, "How would this fellow dare!" The squire said, "A small token of respect. I have long heard of your heroic deeds. That heaven has granted us this meeting today is truly my great fortune." Lu Da said, "This fellow is a rough, coarse brute who has committed a capital offense. If you, Squire, do not despise my lowly station and will befriend me, whenever you have need of this fellow, I will go with you." Squire Zhao was overjoyed and asked about the affair of Butcher Zheng's death. They chatted casually and discussed spear techniques. They drank until the middle of the night, then each retired.

The next morning, Squire Zhao said, "This place may not be safe. May I invite you to stay at my country estate for a while?" Lu Da asked, "Where is your estate?" The squire said, "About ten li from here, a place called Qibao Village." Lu Da said, "Good. Send someone ahead to the village to have two horses brought out." Before midday, the horses arrived. The squire invited Marshal Lu to mount, ordered a farmhand to carry the luggage, and Lu Da took leave of the old Jin and his daughter. He and Squire Zhao mounted their horses. The two rode side by side, chatting along the way as they made for Qibao Village. Before long they arrived at the village and dismounted before the manor. Squire Zhao took Lu Da's hand and led him straight to the main hall, where they took their seats as host and guest. He ordered a sheep slaughtered and wine prepared in their honor. That evening a guest room was arranged for them to rest. The next day, food and drink were again prepared. Lu Da said, "You honor me too deeply, Squire—how can I ever repay you?" Squire Zhao replied, "'All within the four seas are brothers.' Why speak of repayment?"

But enough of this. From then on, Lu Da stayed at Squire Zhao's estate for five or six days. One day, as the two were sitting and chatting in the study, old Jin came hurrying to the manor and went straight to the study, where he found Squire Zhao and Marshal Lu. Seeing no one else, he said to Lu Da, "Benefactor, it is not that I am overcautious, but after you dined at the tavern the other day, the Squire, misinformed by a report, led his farmhands and caused a disturbance in the neighborhood. He called them off afterward, but people grew suspicious and began talking. Yesterday three or four constables came asking questions of the neighbors and are watching closely—I fear they will come to the village to arrest you. If anything should go wrong, what then?" Lu Da said, "In that case, this fellow will simply leave." Squire Zhao said, "If I keep you here and some misfortune befalls you, I would only earn your resentment; yet if I do not keep you, we both lose face. I have a plan that will ensure your absolute safety and give you a place to settle and hide. I only fear you may not agree." Lu Da said, "This fellow is a condemned man. If I can find a place to lay my head, why would I refuse?" Squire Zhao said, "If so, that is best. Thirty-odd li from here there is a mountain called Mount Wutai. On it stands the Manjusri Monastery, the sacred abode of the Bodhisattva Manjusri. The temple houses five or seven hundred monks, headed by the venerable Abbot Zhizhen, who is my sworn brother. My ancestors once donated money to the temple—we are its patron benefactors. I long ago vowed to have a monk ordained there and have already purchased an official ordination certificate. I have only lacked a trusted person to fulfill this wish. If you are willing, I will provide all expenses. Are you truly ready to take the tonsure and become a monk?" Lu Da thought to himself: "If I must leave now, where would I go? I might as well take this path." He said, "Since you, Squire, have arranged it, this fellow is willing to become a monk. I rely entirely on your care." The matter was settled on the spot. That very night they gathered clothes, traveling money, bolts of silk, and gifts, and loaded them onto carrying poles. Early the next morning, a farmhand shouldered the load, and the two set out for Mount Wutai. By the hour of the dragon they had reached the foot of the mountain. When Marshal Lu gazed upon Mount Wutai, truly it was a magnificent peak! Behold:

Clouds veil the summit, the sun wheels round the mountainside;

Soaring, it seems to touch the heavenly gates;

Jagged and towering, it pierces the realm of the Han.

Before the cliff, flowers and trees dance in the spring breeze, breathing hidden fragrance;

At the cave's mouth, wistaria hangs beaded with overnight rain, trailing tender threads.

A flying cloud waterfall—the Milky Way's reflection chills the moonlight;

On the sheer cliff, an ancient pine—its iron bells sway like a dragon's tail in motion.

Its roots stand mighty, commanding three thousand worlds;

Its ridges rise lofty, upholding ten thousand ages.

Squire Zhao and Marshal Lu were carried up the mountain in two sedan chairs, while a farmhand was sent ahead to announce their arrival. By the time they reached the temple, the superintendent and overseer had already come out to greet them. The two descended from their chairs and sat in a pavilion outside the mountain gate. When the venerable Abbot Zhizhen learned of their arrival, he led the head monk and attendants out beyond the mountain gate to welcome them. Squire Zhao and Lu Da stepped forward and bowed. The Abbot Zhizhen returned the greeting and said, "It is no small matter for a benefactor to travel so far." Squire Zhao replied, "I have a small request and have come especially to trouble the monastery." The Abbot said, "Please, Squire, come to the abbot's quarters for tea." Squire Zhao walked ahead, with Lu Da following behind. He looked upon the Manjusri Temple and saw that truly it was a magnificent monastery! Behold:

The mountain gate rises into emerald ridges;

The Buddha halls touch the blue clouds.

The bell tower connects to the moon cave; the sutra library faces the mountain peaks opposite.

The fragrant kitchen draws from a stream of clear water; the monks' quarters embrace the misty radiance on all four sides.

The old abbot's chamber stands beside the Dipper and the Herdboy star; the meditation halls of the monks lie amid the clouds and mist.

A white-faced ape presents fruit from time to time, knocking the strange rocks like wooden fish;

A yellow-spotted deer brings flowers day after day, offering them to the golden Buddha in the precious hall.

The seven-storied precious pagoda joins the red clouds; holy monks of ages past have come to this great monastery.

At that time the true Elder invited Squire Zhao and Lu Da to the abbot's quarters. The Elder invited the squire to sit in the guest seat, while Lu Da sat at the lower end on a meditation chair. Squire Zhao called Lu Da to his ear and whispered, "You have come here to become a monk, yet how can you sit in front of the Elder?" Lu Da said, "I don't know the ways." He rose and stood at the squire's side. Before them, the chief seat, the weina, the attendants, the superintendent, the prior, the guest master, and the secretary were all arranged in order, standing in the eastern and western files. The household servants put the sedan chairs away and brought the boxes into the abbot's quarters, placing them before the Elder. The Elder said, "Why have you brought gifts again? The monastery has already troubled you, the patron, many times." Squire Zhao said, "These trifling tokens are hardly worth mentioning!" The monks and novices cleared them away. Squire Zhao rose and said, "One matter I would like to raise with the Venerable Abbot: Zhao has long had a vow to have a monk shaved and ordained at this monastery. The ordination certificate and registry are all prepared, but it has not been carried out to this day. Now I have this cousin of mine surnamed Lu, a military man from the Western Pass region. Having seen the hardships of the world, he is willing to abandon the secular life and become a monk. I humbly hope the Elder will accept him. In your compassion, in your compassion, for the sake of my humble face, please shave and ordain him as a monk. Whatever is needed, I will provide myself. I am most grateful if the Elder will bring this to completion!"

When the Elder heard this, he replied, "This matter will bring glory to the old monk's monastery. It is easy, quite easy. Please, let us have tea." Presently a novice brought out the tea. After the tea, the cups and trays were cleared away.

The true Elder then summoned the chief seat and the weina to discuss the ordination of this man, and instructed the superintendent and the prior to arrange a vegetarian meal. The chief seat and the monks withdrew to confer among themselves. "This man does not look like one who should become a monk—his eyes are fierce and dangerous." The monks said, "Guest Master, go invite the guests to sit, and we will discuss this with the Elder." The guest master came out and invited Squire Zhao and Lu Da to sit in the guest hall. The chief seat and the monks reported to the Elder: "That man who wishes to become a monk just now is ugly in appearance and fierce in countenance. He must not be ordained—I fear he will bring trouble to the monastery in the future." The Elder said, "He is the brother of our patron Squire Zhao. How can we slight his face? All of you, set aside your doubts for now. Let me observe him." He lit a stick of incense, sat cross-legged on the meditation chair, recited a mantra, and entered meditation. When the incense had burned through, he returned and said to the monks, "Go ahead and ordinate him. This man corresponds to a star in the heavens, and his heart is upright and firm. Although he is fierce and rough at present, and his fate is tangled, in the long run he will attain purity and an extraordinary enlightenment—all of you will fall short of him. Remember my words; do not obstruct this." The chief seat said, "The Elder is merely shielding his own. We can only follow him. If we do not remonstrate, we are wrong; if we remonstrate and he does not listen, that is the end of it."

The Elder ordered a vegetarian meal prepared and invited Squire Zhao and the others to a communal meal in the abbot's quarters. After the meal, the superintendent prepared the accounts. Squire Zhao produced silver and had people purchase materials. At the same time, monk's shoes, monk's robes, monk's hats, kasaya robes, and prostration implements were made in the monastery. In a day or two everything was ready. The Elder selected an auspicious day and hour, had the bell rung and the drum beaten, and assembled the great congregation in the dharma hall. In perfect order, five or six hundred monks, all wearing their kasaya robes, came before the dharma seat, joined their palms, and bowed, arranged in two files. Squire Zhao brought out silver ingots, ceremonial gifts, and sticks of incense, and bowed before the dharma seat. After the announcement and the reading of the prayer, a novice led Lu Da before the dharma seat. The weina instructed Lu Da to remove his headcloth and divide his hair into nine parts, which were twisted and gathered up. The barber shaved all around his head first, and was about to shave his whiskers when Lu Da said, "Leave these for me!" The monks could barely hold back their laughter. The true Elder, from the dharma seat, said, "Great assembly, hear this gatha." He recited:

"Leave not a blade of grass—

The six roots purified.

I shave them away for you,

That strife may be set aside."

After reciting the gatha, the Elder shouted: "Ho! Shave them all away!" With a single stroke, the barber shaved everything off. The chief seat presented the blank ordination certificate before the dharma seat and asked the Elder to bestow a dharma name. The Elder took the blank certificate and spoke a gatha: "A single point of spiritual light, worth a thousand pieces of gold. The Buddha's teaching is vast—I grant the name Zhishen." Having bestowed the name, the Elder passed the certificate down. The secretary monk filled in the ordination certificate and gave it to Lu Zhishen to keep. The Elder also bestowed a dharma robe and kasaya, and had Zhishen put them on. The superintendent led him before the dharma seat, and the Elder placed his hand on his head and gave him the seal of ordination: "First, take refuge in the Buddha-nature. Second, take refuge in the true dharma. Third, take refuge in teachers and friends. These are the three refuges. The five precepts: first, do not kill; second, do not steal; third, do not engage in sexual misconduct; fourth, do not indulge in intoxicating drink; fifth, do not speak falsely." Zhishen did not understand the Chan practice of responding with "yes" or "can," but he said, "I remember." All the monks laughed.

After the ordination, Squire Zhao invited the monks to sit in the Cloud Hall, where incense was burned and a vegetarian meal was offered in tribute. Monks of all ranks each brought congratulatory gifts. The prior led Lu Zhishen to pay respects to all his senior and junior brothers, then led him to the meditation grounds behind the monks' hall in the grove to take a seat. That night, nothing happened.

The next day, Squire Zhao was preparing to return home. He took leave of the abbot, but could not be detained any longer. The morning meal was finished, and all the monks escorted him to the monastery gate. Squire Zhao pressed his palms together and said, "Venerable Father, worthy teachers all, I ask your mercy in all things. My younger brother Shen is a dull and blunt fellow. He may fail in the rituals morning and night, speak rashly, and violate the monastic rules. I humbly beg you to overlook his faults for my sake and forgive him, forgive him." The abbot said, "Squire, rest assured. This old monk will gradually teach him to recite sutras, chant mantras, cultivate the Way, and meditate." Squire Zhao said, "I shall repay your kindness in days to come." He called Zhishen out from among the crowd to beneath a pine tree and said to him in a low voice, "Brother, from this day forward things cannot be as they were before. You must restrain yourself in all matters and by no means presume too much. If you do not, it will be hard for us to meet again. Take care, take care. I will have someone bring your clothes morning and night." Zhishen said, "Needn't say it, brother. I'll do it all." Then Squire Zhao took leave of the abbot, bade farewell again to the others, and mounted his sedan chair. He led his farmhands, dragged along an empty sedan chair, took his box, and descended the mountain to return home. The abbot then led the monks back into the monastery.

Now it must be told that Lu Zhishen returned to the meditation hall in the grove of the Chan meditation grounds, threw himself on the meditation couch, and fell fast asleep. The two monks beside him tried to push him up, saying, "This won't do. Now that you've left home to become a monk, how can you refuse to learn seated meditation?" Zhishen said, "I'm sleeping on my own business. What's it to you?" The monks said, "Good indeed!" Zhishen bared his arms and said, "Soft-shelled turtle I can eat—what's this 'good indeed'?" The monks said, "It is bitter indeed!" Zhishen then said, "Soft-shelled turtles have big bellies, and they're fat and sweet besides—delicious. Where's the 'bitter' in that?" The monks beside him paid him no more attention and let him sleep as he pleased. The next day they were going to report to the abbot that Zhishen had behaved so discourteously. The chief seat admonished them, "The abbot said, 'His future fruition will be extraordinary.' We are all no match for him. He is merely being indulgent. You have no recourse—don't take him seriously." The monks went away. When Zhishen saw no one reproached him, every evening he would stretch himself out crosswise, fall across the meditation couch, and sleep, snoring like thunder at night. When he got up to relieve himself, he made a great fuss and would urinate and defecate right behind the Buddha hall, all over the ground. The attendant reported to the abbot: "Zhishen behaves most discourteously and has not a shred of a monk's dignity. How can such a person be tolerated in the grove?" The abbot shouted, "Nonsense! For the sake of the patron, he will certainly mend his ways." After that no one dared speak against him.

Lu Zhishen had been at Mount Wutai monastery for four or five months without realizing it. It was now early winter, and after long stillness Zhishen's thoughts turned to action. That day the sky was beautifully clear. Zhishen put on his black straight robe, tied his dark-blue sash, changed into monk's shoes, and strode out of the monastery gate. He walked at leisure halfway up the mountain to the pavilion, sat down on the goose-neck lounge chair, and thought to himself, "Damn it! I used to have good wine and good meat every day without fail. Now they've made me a monk and I'm starving skinny. Squire Zhao hasn't sent anyone these past few days to bring me anything to eat either. My mouth's so bland a bird could shit in it. If only I could get some wine around now, that would be something." Just as he was thinking of wine, he saw a man in the distance carrying a pair of buckets on a pole, singing as he came up the mountain. The buckets had lids on top. The man was carrying a small ladle in his hand and singing as he climbed. He sang:

*Nine-Mile Mountain was once a battlefield,*

*A herd boy picked up old swords and spears.*

*The fair wind stirs the waters of the Wu River,*

*Like Lady Yu parting from the Hegemon King.*

Lu Zhishen watched the man carrying the buckets up the mountain. He sat in the pavilion and watched the man, who also came into the pavilion and set down his buckets to rest. Zhishen said, "You there, fellow, what's in those buckets?" The man said, "Good wine!" Zhishen said, "How much for a bucket?" The Man said, "Monk, are you really joking?" Zhishen said, "What would I joke with you about?" The man said, "This wine I'm carrying up is only sold to the stokers, sedan-chair bearers, and stewards inside the monastery for their daily needs. The abbot of this monastery has issued an edict: if we sell it to the monks to drink, we'll all be punished by the abbot, our capital confiscated, and we'll be driven out of our lodgings. We manage this monastery's capital and live in this monastery's buildings—how would we dare sell it to you?" Zhishen said, "You really won't sell?" The man said, "You could kill me and I still won't sell!" Zhishen said, "I'm not going to kill you. I just want to buy some wine to drink." The man saw things were going badly, picked up his buckets, and started to leave. Zhishen chased down from the pavilion, grabbed the carrying pole with both hands, and with one kick struck him squarely between the legs. The man clutched himself with both hands, collapsed in a heap on the ground, and couldn't get up for half a day. Zhishen carried both buckets of wine up to the pavilion, picked up the ladle from the ground, pried off the lids, and helped himself to the cold wine. In no time he had drunk one of the two great buckets. Zhishen said, "Fellow, come to the monastery tomorrow to collect your money." The man's pain had only just subsided, and he was afraid the monastery abbot would find out and ruin his livelihood. He swallowed his anger and didn't dare ask for money. He divided the remaining wine into two half-buckets, hoisted them on his pole, snatched up the ladle, and fled down the mountain as if on wings.

I will only say that Lu Zhishen sat in the pavilion for half the day, and the wine came up on him; getting down from the pavilion, he sat again for a while by the roots of a pine tree, and the wine surged up even more. Zhishen pulled off his black straight-cut robe from his shoulders, wrapped both sleeves around his waist, exposing the flowery embroidery on his back, fanning both his arms as he came up the mountain. But he was seen: head heavy and feet light, eyes red and face flushed; leaning forward and backward, tilting east and west. Staggering and stumbling up the mountain, like a crane in the wind; swaying and rocking back to the temple, like a snake out of water. Pointing at the heavenly palace, cursing the Marshal of the Heavenly Canopy; stamping open the underworld, wanting to seize the Judge of Death. A bare-bodied, naked Demon Lord in drunkenness, the Flower Monk who set fires and killed men.

Lu Da came in sight of the mountain gate. The two gatekeepers, seeing him from afar, took bamboo canes and came to the mountain gate, blocking Lu Zhishen. They shouted, "You are a disciple of Buddha—how can you gobble wine until you're rotten drunk and come up the mountain? You're not blind—you've seen the notice posted in the treasury office: any monk who breaks the precepts and drinks wine will be beaten forty strokes with a bamboo cane and driven out of the temple. If the gatekeepers allow a drunken monk into the temple, they too will take ten strokes. Go back down the mountain quickly, and I'll spare you a few cane strokes." Zhishen, for one thing newly made a monk, and for two his old nature unchanged, opened both his eyes wide and cursed, "Damn your mother! If you two want to beat me, I'll fight you." The gatekeepers saw things were going badly; one flew in to report to the superintendent, while the other feebly brandished his bamboo cane to block him. Zhishen pushed past with his hand, spread open his five fingers, and with a single palm strike to the gatekeeper's face, sent him staggering; as he struggled to get up, Zhishen threw another punch, knocking him down at the mountain gate, where he could only cry out in pain. Zhishen said, "I'll spare you, you wretch." Stumbling and tumbling, he fell into the temple.

The superintendent, hearing the gatekeeper's report, summoned the old physician, the fire workers, and the sedan-chair bearers—some twenty or thirty men—each carrying white wooden staves, and they rushed out from under the west corridor, just in time to meet Zhishen. Zhishen saw them, let out a great roar like a thunderclap beside his mouth, and strode forward with great steps. At first the men did not know he was a military officer by background; afterward, seeing how ferocious his movements were, they hastily retreated into the scripture hall and barred the lattice shutters. Zhishen charged up the steps, and with fists and kicks broke open the lattice shutters; the twenty or thirty men were driven to the end of their road, and snatching up staves, they came fighting out of the scripture hall.

The superintendent hastily reported this to the abbot. The abbot, upon hearing it, quickly led three or five attendants straight to the corridor and shouted, "Zhishen, do not be so rude!" Though Zhishen was drunk with wine, he recognized the abbot. He threw down his staff, came forward to make a salutation, and pointing at the corridor said to the abbot, "I only drank two bowls of wine, and never provoked them—yet those men brought others to beat me." The abbot said, "For my sake, go quickly to sleep, and we will speak of it tomorrow." Lu Zhishen said, "If I weren't looking at the abbot's face, I would have beaten a few of those bald donkeys to death!" The abbot told the attendants to help Zhishen to the meditation bed; he fell down with a thud and fell fast asleep with loud snoring. The many office-holding monks surrounded the abbot and told him, "In the past your disciples remonstrated with you, Venerable One—and now see what has happened! How can this temple tolerate such a wild cat, who throws the pure rules into disorder!" The abbot said, "Although at present there is some disturbance, in the future he will achieve proper fruition. There is no help for it—for the sake of Benefactor Zhao the patron, let us bear with him this once. Tomorrow I myself will call him to task." The monks said with a sneer, "What a muddle-headed abbot!" and each went off to rest.

The next day, after the morning meal, the abbot sent an attendant to the meditation hall in the monks' quarters to call Zhishen, but he had still not risen. When he got up, he put on his straight-cut robe, went barefoot, and came out of the monks' quarters in a puff of smoke. The attendant was startled, and hurrying out to look for him, found him behind the Buddha hall relieving himself. The attendant could not stop himself from laughing; after Zhishen had washed his hands, he said, "The abbot asks to speak with you." Zhishen followed the attendant to the abbot's quarters. The abbot said, "Although you are a military man by background, now that Benefactor Zhao the patron has had you tonsured, I have touched the top of your head and given you the precepts. I taught you: first, you must not kill living beings; second, you must not steal; third, you must not commit sexual misconduct; fourth, you must not be greedy for wine; fifth, you must not speak falsely. These five precepts are the constant principles of monks. Above all, a monk must not be greedy for wine—how could you drink so heavily last night? You beat the gatekeeper, damaged the red lattice shutters in the scripture hall, drove away the fire workers and Taoist monks, and shouted and brawled. How could you behave in this way?" Zhishen knelt down and said, "I will not dare do so again." The abbot said, "Since you have left home, how could you first break the precept against wine and then throw the pure rules into disorder? If I did not look at the face of your patron Benefactor Zhao, I would certainly drive you out of the temple! Do not transgress again!" Zhishen rose, pressed his palms together, and said, "I dare not, I dare not." The abbot kept him in the abbot's quarters, arranged a morning meal for him, and spoke to him with kind words; he also gave him a fine cloth straight-cut robe and a pair of monk's shoes, and sent him back to the monks' quarters. In former times there was a worthy man who took up his pen and composed a verse, speaking solely of wine. It was truly well done! It said:

Since ancient times all transgressions are blamed on wine—

I have one word to lay before the world.

Earth, water, fire, and wind combine to form a man;

Yeast, grain, and water blend to make the rich brew.

Wine in the bottle is still and waveless;

A man before he is drunk seems to have no mouth.

Who says that a child is a drunkard?

Never have I heard of one eating glutinous rice and reeling like a dog.

How is it that after three cups, pouring freely,

The four elements are no longer one's own!

Some cannot tolerate even a drop;

Some drink three hundred pecks in one sitting.

There are those with clear eyes who are madmen;

There are those dead drunk whose spirit is not deluded.

The sages and worthies in wine are handed down by men;

Men who bring ruin upon their country do so because of wine.

There is a common saying to mock and dispel confusion:

"It is not wine that makes men drunk—men make themselves drunk with wine."

No matter how much one drinks, one must never go to extremes. As the saying goes, "Wine can accomplish things, and wine can ruin things." Even a timid man, once he has drunk, recklessly acts as if he were brave—how much more so a man of naturally high spirits!

Now then, Lu Zhishen, ever since that drunken outburst, had not dared to step outside the temple gates for three or four months running. Then one day, the weather turned suddenly warm—it was the second month. He left the monks' quarters and strolled out, step by step, until he stood outside the mountain gate, gazing at Mount Wutai and admiring it for a while. Suddenly he heard a clanging and clattering sound rising from below the mountain, carried up to him on the wind. Zhishen went back to the monks' hall, took some silver, tucked it into his robe, and walked down the mountain one step at a time. He passed through the memorial archway of the Wutai blessed land and looked around. It turned out to be a market town of some five or six hundred households. When Zhishen surveyed the market, he saw butchers selling meat, grocers selling vegetables, as well as wine shops and noodle shops. Zhishen thought to himself, "What a bore! Had I known this place existed, I wouldn't have snatched that bucket of wine from them—I would have simply come down here and bought some. These past few days I've been tormented by nothing but plain water. Let me go have a look—maybe there's something worth buying to eat." The source of that clanging sound, he discovered, was a forge where a blacksmith was at work. Next door, above a doorway, was written: "Father-and-Son Inn." Zhishen walked up to the front of the smithy and saw three men forging iron. Zhishen said, "You there, artisan—have you any good steel or iron?" The smiths, seeing that Zhishen's cheeks were freshly shorn and his stubble of beard stuck out in a wild, bristling mess, looking thoroughly fierce and terrifying, were already half afraid of him. The artisan paused his work and said, "Please sit down, Reverend. What would you like made?" Zhishen said, "This monk wants an iron staff and a monk's dagger. Do you have any first-rate iron?" The artisan said, "This humble one happens to have some good iron on hand. But how heavy a staff and dagger does the Reverend wish? Just give your orders." Zhishen said, "This monk wants a staff of one hundred jin." The artisan laughed and said, "Too heavy, Reverend. This humble one is not afraid of forging it, but I fear the Reverend would be unable to wield it. Even Lord Guan's saber was only eighty-one jin." Zhishen said irritably, "Am I inferior to Lord Guan? He was only a man too!" The artisan said, "By the usual standard, I would say forty or fifty jin at most—and even that is very heavy." Zhishen said, "Then as you say—but make it eighty-one jin, the same as Lord Guan's saber." The artisan said, "Reverend, if it's too thick it won't look good, and it will be hard to use. In this humble one's opinion, I'd best forge for you a finely polished sixty-two-jin iron staff. If you can't manage it, don't blame me. As for the dagger, that goes without saying—I'll use the finest iron I have." Zhishen said, "How much silver for the two items?" The artisan said, "No haggling—the real price is five taels of silver." Zhishen said, "I'll give you five taels then. If you forge them well, there'll be a bonus besides." The artisan took the silver and said, "This humble one will forge them right here." Zhishen said, "I have some loose silver here—let me buy a bowl of wine from you." The artisan said, "Please do as you wish, Reverend. This humble one has work to finish and cannot keep you company."

Zhishen left the smith's house and had not walked thirty paces when he saw a wine banner jutting out from the eaves of a shop. He lifted the curtain, went inside, and sat down, pounding on the table. "Bring wine!" he called out. The wine-seller said, "Forgive me, Reverend. Even this humble one's house belongs to the temple, and the capital is the temple's too. The Elder has issued a decree: if any of us sells wine to the monks and they drink it, we lose our capital and are driven from our houses. So I'm afraid I must ask you to excuse me." Zhishen said, "Just sell me some on the sly. This monk won't say it was from your shop." The shopkeeper said, "I dare not. Please go elsewhere to drink. Do forgive me." Zhishen had no choice but to get up. "If this monk drinks elsewhere, I'll come back and have words with you." He left the shop and walked a few paces further, and saw another wine banner hanging directly in front of a doorway. Zhishen walked straight in, sat down, and called out, "Shopkeeper, sell me wine, and be quick about it!" The shopkeeper said, "Reverend, you really don't understand. The Elder has issued his decree—surely you know that—and yet you come here to ruin our livelihood." Zhishen refused to budge. After three or five attempts, they still would not sell. Zhishen, realizing they would not oblige, got up and left. He went to three or five shops in a row, and none would sell to him. Zhishen hatched a plan: if he didn't come up with some scheme, how was he ever going to get wine? Far off, deep among the apricot blossoms, at the very edge of the market, a shop had stuck out a grass broom as its sign. Zhishen walked over to have a look and found it was a small country wineshop. He saw:

A country wineshop standing by the village for many years,

Slanting amid mulberry and hemp beside the ancient road.

White plank benches where the guests sit,

A fence of woven thorns and brambles.

An earthen jar brews the yellow millet wine,

A rough wooden gate hangs out its blue cloth curtain.

But there is one thing here that is especially laughable—

A wall plastered with ox dung, and every man a drunk immortal!

Zhiliang walked into the wine shop, sat down by the window, and called out, "Shopkeeper, a traveling monk wants to buy a cup of wine." The proprietor looked him over and said, "Monk, where are you from?" Zhiliang said, "This old monk is a wandering priest, traveling and passing through here. I want to buy a cup of wine." The proprietor said, "Monk, if you were a master from Wutai Mountain Monastery, I wouldn't dare sell you any." Zhiliang said, "This wine-drinker isn't from there. Quick now, bring the wine." The proprietor, seeing Lu Zhiliang's rough appearance and the difference in his voice, said, "How much wine do you want?" Zhiliang said, "Don't ask how much—just keep pouring it in large bowls." After drinking perhaps ten bowls or so, Zhiliang asked, "Got any meat? Bring a plate." The proprietor said, "There was some beef earlier, but it's all sold out." Zhiliang suddenly caught a whiff of meat. He stepped out into the open and saw, by the wall, a clay pot with a dog boiling in it. Zhiliang said, "You've got dog meat here—why didn't you offer it to this old monk?" The proprietor said, "I was afraid you, being a monk, wouldn't eat dog meat, so I didn't ask." Zhiliang said, "This wine-drinker's silver is right here." He handed the money to the proprietor and said, "Sell me half." The proprietor quickly took half the cooked dog meat, mashed some garlic, and set it before Zhiliang. Zhiliang was overjoyed. He tore off pieces of the dog meat with his hands, dipped them in the garlic, and ate. Then he drank another ten bowls or so. He was eating and drinking with such gusto, wanting only more, that he wouldn't stop. The proprietor was completely stunned and cried, "Monk, that's enough!" Zhiliang opened his eyes wide and said, "This wine-drinker isn't eating for free—what business is it of yours?" The proprietor said, "How much more do you want?" Zhiliang said, "Bring another bucket." The proprietor had no choice but to ladle out another bucket. In no time at all, Zhiliang had finished that bucket of wine too. He took a leftover dog leg, tucked it into his robes, and as he was leaving the door, said, "I'll come back tomorrow for more—keep the change." The proprietor was left dumbfounded and at a loss. He watched as Zhiliang headed off early toward Wutai Mountain.

Zhiliang walked up to the pavilion halfway up the mountain and sat for a while. Then the wine surged up inside him. He leaped to his feet and said, "It's been a while since this wine-drinker stretched his fists and kicked his feet. I feel my body's gone stiff—let me try a few moves." He came down from the pavilion, gathered both sleeves in his hands, and swung his arms up, down, left, and right a few times. Feeling the power surge through him, he swung one arm and struck a pillar of the pavilion. There was a tremendous crack—the pillar snapped, and half the pavilion collapsed. The gatekeepers heard the noise from halfway up the mountain and looked up from a high spot. They saw Lu Zhiliang stumbling step by step as he charged up the mountain. The two gatekeepers cried, "We're doomed! This beast is thoroughly drunk again!" They quickly shut the gate and barred it. Peeking through the crack, they saw Zhiliang rush up to the gate. Finding it shut, he pounded on it like a drum with his fists. The two gatekeepers didn't dare open it. After Zhiliang had pounded for a while, he turned around, looked at the Vajra guardian on the left, and bellowed, "You big brute, instead of opening the gate for this old monk, you stand there shaking your fist at me—I'm not afraid of you!" He leaped up onto the platform, yanked the railing out as easily as pulling up a scallion, picked up a broken piece of wood, and started whacking the Vajra's legs. The clay and paint flaked off in showers. A gatekeeper peered out and cried, "We're done for! We'd better report this to the abbot." Zhiliang waited a while, then turned and looked at the Vajra on the right. He bellowed, "You, with your big open mouth—come laugh at this old monk, will you?" He leaped up onto the platform on the right and struck the Vajra's legs twice. There was a thunderous crash as the guardian toppled from its platform. Zhiliang stood there holding the broken piece of wood, laughing loudly. The two gatekeepers went to report to the abbot. The abbot said, "Don't provoke him. Just leave him alone." Meanwhile, the chief seat, the supervisor, the prior, and all the other ranking monks came to the abbot's quarters and reported, "This wild cat is terribly drunk today. He's smashed the halfway pavilion and the Vajra guardians at the gate. What are we to do?" The abbot said, "Even an emperor avoids a drunk man—how much more should an old monk? If the Vajras are broken, we'll ask the donor Squire Zhao to have new ones made. If the pavilion is down, he'll have to repair it. Let it be." The monks said, "The Vajras are the guardians of the monastery gate—how can they simply be replaced?" the abbot said, "Never mind the Vajras—even if he smashed the Buddhas of the Three Worlds in the main hall, there's nothing to be done. Just avoid him. Did you see his violence the other day?" The monks came out of the abbot's quarters and all said, "What a spineless bamboo of an abbot! Gatekeepers, don't open the gate—just listen from inside." Outside, Zhiliang bellowed, "You bald-assed bastards! If you won't let this wine-drinker into the monastery, I'll grab a torch from outside the gate and burn down this stinking temple!" The monks, hearing this, had no choice but to tell the gatekeeper to unbar the gate and let the beast in. If they hadn't opened it, he really might have done it. The gatekeeper gingerly pulled the bar out, then darted into a room and hid as fast as he could. The monks all scattered to their own quarters.

I will tell only of Lu Zhishen: with both hands he threw his weight against the mountain gate, stumbled, and fell face-first to the ground. He scrambled up, rubbed his head, and made straight for the monks' hall. When he reached the Buddha-selection grounds, the chan practitioners were sitting in meditation. They saw Zhishen lift the curtain and push his way in, and all started in alarm, lowering their heads. Zhishen went to the side of the meditation bed. A gurgling sound came from his throat, and he vomited right there on the floor. The monks could not bear the stench. Every one of them said, "Good gracious!" and covered their mouths and noses. After Zhishen had vomited his fill, he climbed onto the meditation bed, untied his sash, and tore off the fastening of his straight-cut robe with a series of ripping sounds. Then he unwrapped the dog-leg meat. "Excellent," said Zhishen, "I'm starving!" He pulled it toward him and began to eat. The monks hid their faces in their sleeves. The two chan practitioners on either side of him darted far away. Seeing them retreat, Zhishen tore off a piece of the dog meat and, looking at the monk in the upper seat, said, "You have a taste too." The monk in the upper seat pressed both sleeves tightly over his face. "You won't eat it, eh?" said Zhishen. He thrust the meat toward the mouth of the chan practitioner in the lower seat. That monk could not dodge in time and was about to climb off the meditation bed when Zhishen seized him by the ear and stuffed the meat into his mouth. Four or five chan practitioners from across the room rushed over to intervene, but Zhishen threw down the dog meat and raised his fists, hammering away at their bald heads with a relentless pitter-patter. The entire assembly of monks raised a great shout, went to the lockers, took their bowls and robes, and made for the door. This upheaval is known as a "great hall-scattering." The head monk had no way to restrain them.

Zhishen kept fighting his way out. Most of the chan guests fled beneath the corridor. The supervisor and the prior, without informing the abbot, roused a company of office-holding monks and called up the old attendants, the fire-workers, the temple workers, the hall keepers, and the palanquin-bearers — in all some one or two hundred men. They took up staves, pitchforks, and clubs, tied towels around their heads, and together charged into the monks' hall. When Zhishen saw this, he let out a great roar. Having no weapon, he rushed into the hall, overturned the offering table before the Buddha, snapped off two table legs, and fought his way out of the hall using them. Observe:

Fire blazed in his breast, thunder rolled from his lips.

He exerted the frame of a nine-foot beast,

And breathed ambition soaring three thousand fathoms.

His murderous, monstrous daring could not be checked;

His round eyes blazed like twin seas churning.

He charged straight ahead, like a tiger or leopard shot with an arrow plunging from a cliff;

He surged forward and back, like a spear-stricken jackal leaping across a ravine.

Even a heavenly gatekeeper could scarcely withstand him;

Even a diamond guardian would have to yield.

At that moment, Lu Zhishen swung the two table legs and fought his way out. The monks and temple workers, seeing how ferocious he was, dragged their staves and retreated beneath the corridor. Zhishen swept the two table legs along the ground in a wide arc, and the monks closed in from both sides. Enraged, Zhishen struck east when he meant west, struck south when he meant north, sparing only those at the two ends. In the end he fought his way straight to the Dharma hall, where the abbot shouted: "Zhishen, this is unconscionable! And you monks, stop this fighting!" Dozens on both sides had already been injured. Seeing the abbot arrive, each group withdrew. When Zhishen saw the crowd disperse, he threw down the table legs and called out: "Abbot, stand up for me!" By now his wine was about seventy to eighty percent worn off. The abbot said: "Zhashen, you have brought calamity upon this old monk. The last time you were drunk you caused a disturbance, and I had to inform your elder brother, Squire Zhao, who wrote a letter apologizing on your behalf to the monks. Now you are drunk again and acting without respect. You have violated the pure rules, knocked down a pavilion, and smashed the Diamond Guardian statues. Let those matters pass. But you have scattered the entire assembly of monks — that is no small offense. This Mount Wutai is the bodhimanda of Manjushri, a place of pure incense offerings for a thousand years. How can it tolerate your foulness? Come with me to the abbot's quarters for a few days while I arrange a place for you." Zhishen followed the abbot to the quarters. The abbot ordered the office-holding monks to detain the chan guests and return to the hall to resume their meditation. The injured monks were told to go and tend to themselves. The abbot led Zhishen to the abbot's quarters, where they rested for the night.

The next day, the True Abbot conferred with the head monk: "Prepare some silver and send him on his way to another place. But first inform Squire Zhao." The abbot at once wrote a letter and dispatched two hall-keeper temple workers directly to Squire Zhao's manor to explain the situation and await a reply. When Squire Zhao read the letter, he was deeply displeased. He wrote back in reply to the abbot: "As for the damaged Diamond pavilion, Zhao will immediately send funds to have it repaired. Zhishen is entirely at the abbot's disposal." When the abbot received the reply, he ordered an attendant to bring a dark-colored straight-cut monk's robe, a pair of monk's shoes, and ten taels of white silver. He then called Zhishen into the room. The abbot said: "Zhishen, the last time you were badly drunk and disrupted the monks' hall, that was an inadvertent offense. This time you have been drunk again, smashed the Diamond Guardian, collapsed the pavilion, and scattered the assembly in the Buddha-selection grounds — your offense is not a light one. You also injured many of the chan guests. This is a place of renunciation, a pure abode. What you have done is utterly wrong. But out of regard for your patron Squire Zhao, I give you this letter of introduction to a place where you can settle. I absolutely cannot keep you here any longer. Last night I reflected on this and composed four lines of verse for you, which will serve you all your life." Zhishen said, "Master, where should this disciple go to settle and make a living? I am willing to hear my teacher's four lines of verse." The True Abbot pointed at Lu Zhishen and spoke these words, pointing him toward a certain destination. And so it came to pass that this man swung his monk's staff in laughter and fought the heroes and gallants of the world; he brandished his precept blade in fury and struck down rebellious sons and slandering ministers upon the earth. In the end his name would resound three thousand li north of the frontier, and his fruit would be realized in the first prefecture south of the river. But what, after all, did the True Abbot say to Zhishen? Listen to the next chapter.