Chapter 93

Chapter 93

The resolve to cut off love brings certainty; indulging affection surely brings calamity. How can the enlightened mind distinguish the three platforms? When deeds are fulfilled, one naturally returns to the primal sea.

Be it becoming an immortal or a Buddha, all must be arranged from within. Pure and clean, free from all worldly dust. When the fruit is rectified, one ascends to the higher realms.

Now, when the monks of the temple awoke at dawn and did not see the Tang monk and his disciples, they said, "We did not detain them, we did not bid them farewell, we did not beg them to stay—we simply let a living Bodhisattva go, clean and clear." Even as they spoke, several wealthy families from the southern quarter arrived to invite them. The monks clapped their palms and said, "Last night we failed to keep watch—tonight they have all ridden the clouds away." The people all looked up to the sky and bowed in thanks. Once this word spread, every official and citizen in the city came to know of it. These wealthy households all prepared the five sacrificial animals and fruits of the earth to offer at the temple of the deceased, giving thanks to repay the favor—but no more of this.

Now the four pilgrims, eating the wind and sleeping by the waters, journeyed in peace and tranquility for more than half a month. One day, they suddenly saw a lofty mountain. The Tang monk grew fearful and said, "Disciples, the mountain ridges ahead are steep and rugged—we must be careful." The Pilgrim laughed and said: "This road is drawing near to the Buddha's land. Surely there are no demons or monsters here. Master, set your heart at ease and worry no more." The Tang monk said, "Disciples, although the Buddha's land is not far, the monks of that temple said it was still two thousand li to the capital of Tianzhu. I don't know how many li the road still holds." The Pilgrim said, "Master, you have forgotten the *Heart Sutra* taught by the Patriarch of the Crow's Nest." Tripitaka said, "The *Prajnaparamita Heart Sutra* is my personal garment and bowl. Ever since the Patriarch of the Crow's Nest taught it to me, on what day have I not recited it? At what hour have I ever forgotten it? Even upside down I could recite it—how could I forget?" The Pilgrim said, "Master, you can only recite it. You never asked the Patriarch to explain it for you." Tripitaka said, "You monkey-head—how can you say I have not understood it? Do you understand it?" The Pilgrim said, "I understand it. I understand it." From that point on, Tripitaka and the Pilgrim spoke no more. Beside them, Bajie was doubled over with laughter, and Sha Monk was overjoyed, saying: "What a mouth! Just like me, born from a demon—not some Chan monk who has listened to sutra lectures, not some Buddhist monk who has witnessed dharma talks. Making a false show, striking a pose, talking about 'knowing' and 'understanding.' Why don't you say anything? Listen to the lecture, and ask for the explanation." Sha Monk said, "Second Brother, you believe him too? Big Brother stretches out his words to coax Master along the road. He knows how to swing his staff—but does he know how to lecture on sutras?" Tripitaka said, "Wuneng, Wujing, do not speak recklessly. Wukong's understanding is beyond words and scriptures—it is true understanding."

Even as the master and his disciples conversed, they had already covered a great distance, passing several mountain ridges, when they came upon a large temple by the roadside. Tripitaka said, "Wukong, there is a temple ahead. Look at that temple—it is neither large nor small, yet it has glazed tiles and greenish-blue roof; half new, half old, yet it has red walls forming a character eight. Dimly one sees the drooping canopies of green pines—who knows how many thousands of years old these relics are, surviving to this day; one hears the gurgling of flowing water like strummed strings—one cannot tell in which dynasty the mountain was opened and this stream preserved. On the mountain gate, large characters read 'Cloth-Gold Chan Monastery'; on a hanging plaque, it is inscribed as 'An Ancient Relic.'"

The Pilgrim saw that it read "Cloth-Gold Chan Monastery," and Bajie also said it was "Cloth-Gold Chan Monastery." Tripitaka, still on his horse, pondered: "'Cloth-Gold'... 'Cloth-Gold'... Could this be the boundary of the kingdom of Savatthi?" Bajie said, "Master, how strange! I have been with you for several years and never knew the road—today I know it too?" Tripitaka said, "No. I have often read the sutras and scriptures, which say that the Buddha was in the Jetavana Grove of the city of Savatthi. They say this grove was bought from the crown prince by the Elder Anathapindika, who invited the Buddha to preach the sutras. The prince said, 'I will not sell this grove. If he wants to buy it, he must cover the ground entirely with gold.' When the Elder Anathapindika heard this, he used gold bricks to cover the entire grove, and only then did he buy the prince's Jetavana, and only then was he able to invite the World-Honored One to expound the dharma. I wonder if this Cloth-Gold Monastery is the story of that event?" Bajie laughed and said: "What good fortune! If it is indeed this story, let's go and grab a few of those bricks to give away." They all laughed for a while more before Tripitata dismounted.

Entering the mountain gate, they saw people carrying burdens on poles, bearing packs on their backs, pushing carts, and sitting in full carts: some went to sleep, some went to talk. When they suddenly saw the four pilgrims—some handsome, some hideous—everyone was somewhat frightened, yet they made way for them. Tripitaka, fearing trouble, kept saying, "Be refined, be refined." At that moment, everyone restrained themselves. Passing behind the Hall of the Diamond Kings, a Chan monk came forth, dignified and impressive indeed. Truly:

His face was full as the bright moon, his body like a Bodhi tree.

Holding his staff, his sleeves rode the wind; straw shoes on the stony path.

Tripitaka greeted him with folded hands. The monk quickly returned the salute and said, "Where does the master come from?" Tripitaka said, "I am Chen Tang monk, sent by the Emperor of the Great Tang in the East on a mission to worship Buddha and seek the scriptures in the West. Passing through your venerable place, I have come presumptuously to pay my respects. I beg to borrow a night's lodging and will depart tomorrow." The monk said: "This humble mountain is a monastery open to all from the ten directions—all are welcome. Moreover, Your Reverence is a divine monk from the East. To receive your offering would be our great fortune." Tripitaka thanked him, then called his three companions to accompany him. They passed through the covered corridors and the kitchen, and proceeded directly to the abbot's quarters. After the greetings were exchanged, host and guest took their seats. The three disciples also stood with hands hanging at their sides.

When the monks of the temple heard that the scripture-seeking monks of the Great Tang in the East had arrived, all of them, great and small—whether permanent residents, visiting monks, elders, or young novices—came one and one to pay their respects. After tea, vegetarian offerings were laid out. The elder monk was still reciting the grace before the meal, but Eight Rules was already in a hurry. Buns, vegetarian dishes, and rice noodles—he swept them all down in one go. The abbot's quarters were also crowded that day. The more refined praised Tripitaka's dignified bearing; those with a taste for amusement all watched Eight Rules eat. But Sandy had sharp eyes, caught sight of what was going on, and secretly gave Eight Rules a pinch. "Behave with decorum," he said. Eight Rules was startled and cried out in a rush, "Decorum, decorum—but my belly is empty!" Sandy laughed and said, "Second Brother, you don't understand. For all the men of decorum in the world, when it comes to what's in the belly, they're just the same as you and me." Only then did Eight Rules stop. Tripitaka recited the closing grace, the attendants cleared the tables, and Tripitaka expressed his thanks.

The monks asked about the reasons for coming from the East. Tripitaka spoke of the ancient sites, and then inquired how the Temple of the Golden-Laid Ground got its name. The monks replied, "This temple was originally the Jetavana Monastery in the kingdom of Shravasti, also known as the Jeta Grove. It was named thus because the elder Sudatta invited the Buddha to preach the sutras and paved the ground with gold bricks, giving rise to the present name. Before our very eyes, this was once the kingdom of Shravasti. At that time, the elder Sudatta lived in Shravasti, and this desolate mountain was the elder's Jeta Grove. That is why it is called the Sudatta Golden-Laid Temple. Behind the temple there are still the foundations of the Jeta Grove. In recent years, when the rains pour down, gold, silver, and pearls still wash out. Those with good fortune often find them." Tripitaka said, "So the tales are true after all." He then asked, "When we first entered this precious mountain, we saw many mule and horse carts and trading porters resting in the corridors at the gate. Why are they staying here?" The monks said, "This mountain is called Hundred-Foot Mountain. In former years it was peaceful, but recently, with the cycle of weather, for some reason several centipedes turned into spirits and often harmed travelers on the road. Though they do not kill, people simply dare not pass through. At the foot of the mountain there is a pass called Cock-Crow Pass. One may cross only when the rooster crows. Those merchants, having arrived late, feared it would be inconvenient, so they borrowed a night's lodging on this desolate mountain and wait to leave after the cock crows." Tripitaka said, "Then we shall wait for the cock to crow as well." Even as the master and disciples were speaking, more offerings were brought, and they ate their fill.

The moon of the first quarter was bright and clear. Tripitaka and the Pilgrim strolled in the moonlight when a Daoist came to report, "Our master wishes to meet the man from the Middle Kingdom." Tripitaka turned quickly and saw an old monk holding a bamboo staff, who bowed and said, "Is this the master from the Middle Kingdom?" Tripitaka returned the bow and said, "I dare not presume so." The old monk praised him endlessly and then asked, "How venerable is the master's age?" Tripitaka said, "I have frittered away forty-five years. May I ask the venerable abbot's age?" The old monk laughed and said, "I have foolishly outlived you by a full cycle of sixty years." The Pilgrim said, "That makes one hundred and five years this year. How old do you think I look?" The old monk said, "Your features are ancient and your spirit clear, and besides, my old eyes are deceived by the moonlight—I cannot tell at all." After some conversation, they went to look at the rear corridor. Tripitaka said, "You mentioned the foundations of the Jetavana Grove earlier. Where exactly are they?" The old monk said, "Just outside the back gate.—Quickly, open the gate." They saw an open plot of ground with some broken stones piled as wall footings. Tripitaka pressed his palms together and sighed:

"Of old the giver Sudatta gave his gold and treasure to relieve the poor and sick.

The Jeta Grove's name endures a thousand ages—where now does the sage's companion dwell?"

They all enjoyed the moon and walked slowly. Approaching the back gate, they reached a terrace and sat down for a while. Suddenly they heard the sound of weeping. Tripitaka listened with a still and sincere heart. The one weeping spoke of parents who did not know suffering. He was moved to the heart, could not help but shed tears, and turned to ask the monks, "Who is it weeping so bitterly, and where?" When the old monk saw the question, he ordered the other monks to go back first and prepare tea. Seeing that no one remained, he then bowed before Tripitaka and the Pilgrim. Tripitaka raised him and said, "Venerable abbot, why do you pay us such respect?" The old monk said, "This disciple is over a hundred years old and knows a little of the ways of the world. In my meditations, I have also seen certain visions several times. As for you, master and disciples, I know a little—you are different from others. As for the matter of this bitter weeping, only this master here can discern it clearly." The Pilgrim said, "Then tell us—what is it?" The old monk said, "On this day last year, while I was in the clarity of meditation under the moon, I suddenly heard a gust of wind and then a voice of grief and lament. I left my seat and went to the foundations of the Jeta Grove to look. It was a beautiful and upright young woman. I asked her, 'Whose daughter are you? Why have you come to this place?' The young woman said, 'I am the princess of the kingdom of Tianzhu. I was viewing flowers in the moon when the wind carried me here.' I locked her in a dilapidated empty room, fitted the room up like a prison cell, and left only a small hole in the door large enough to pass a bowl through. That day I told the monks, 'It is a demoness—I have bound her.' But we monks are compassionate people and would not take her life. Every day we gave her two meals of coarse tea and coarse rice, enough to sustain her. The woman was clever and understood my meaning. Fearing that the monks might defile her, she feigned madness—sleeping in her urine and lying in her excrement. In the daytime she spoke wild words, staring blankly; but when night fell and all was still, she thought of her parents and wept. Several times I went into the city to inquire about the princess, but there was no news at all. Therefore I have kept her locked up even tighter and have not released her. Now that you, master, have come to this kingdom, I implore you, when you reach the kingdom, to exercise your great powers of dharma and make the truth clear: first, to rescue the good and innocent, and second, to manifest your divine powers." Tripitaka and the Pilgrim listened and kept it deeply in their hearts.

They were speaking thus when two young monks came to invite them to tea and rest, and then departed. In the abbot's quarters, Bajie and Sha Wujing muttered fretfully: "We're supposed to set out at cockcrow tomorrow, and still he hasn't come to sleep." Wukong said, "What's the fool blathering about now?" Bajie said, "Let's sleep. It's the middle of the night—what scenery is there to look at at this hour?" Thereupon the old monk dispersed the company, and Tripitaka retired for the night. Truly:

The night was still, the moon had sunk, flower dreams hushed and deep;

A warm breeze filtered faintly through the window's latticed screen.

The copper water-drip marked each careful watch,

The shining Silver River lit the Nine Splendors in their sleep.

That night they had not long slept before they heard the crowing of roosters. The traveling merchants ahead of them rose with a bustle, lighting lamps and preparing food. The elder also roused Bajie and Sha Wunging, hitched up the horse, and packed. Wukong called for a lamp to be lit. The monks of the temple had already risen and arranged tea and refreshments, waiting in attendance at the rear. Bajie was delighted; he ate a whole plate of steamed buns, then led out the baggage horse. Tripitaka and Wukong took their leave of the assembly. The old monk said again to Wukong: "Matters of grief—keep them in your heart, keep them in your heart." Wukong laughed and said: "Duly received, duly received. Once I enter the city, I will be able to discern truth from sound and distinguish substance from appearance." The crowd of traveling merchants, chattering noisily, set out together on the main road. It was nearly the hour of the Tiger when they passed Cockcrow Pass. By the hour of the Snake, they could at last see the city walls. Truly it was a city of iron and gold, a blessed land of the divine realm. The city:

Like a crouching tiger and a coiling dragon, its grandeur soared on high;

Phoenix towers and unicorn halls shimmered with iridescent light.

The imperial moat's waters flowed like a jade sash,

The blessed land rose against the hills, banners planted bright.

At dawn the pennants shone along the royal road,

In spring winds flutes and drums resounded by every bridge.

The king ruled with virtue, his court in noble dress,

The five grains flourished, revealing heroes' greatness.

That day they entered the Eastern Market Street, and the various merchants each went to their inns. The master and disciples entered the city and, as they walked along, came upon a Hostelry for Guests of State. Tripitaka and the others went straight inside. The official in charge at once reported to the Hostelry's director: "Outside there are four strange-looking monks who have led in a white horse." Hearing there was a horse, the director knew this was an official mission, and came out to the hall to receive them. Tripitaka bowed and said: "This poor monk is an imperial envoy from the Great Tang of the Eastern Land, sent to the Vulture Peak and the Great Thunderclap Temple in the Holy Mountain to see the Buddha and seek the scriptures. I have with me official documents for inspection at court. I beg to rest briefly in your honorable office, and will depart once business is concluded." The director returned the bow and said: "This office was established precisely to receive envoys and guests. It is fitting that we offer you hospitality. Please enter, please enter." Tripitaka was pleased and had his disciples come forward to meet the director. Seeing their ugly faces, the director was secretly alarmed, not knowing whether they were men or demons. Trembling, he could only serve tea and arrange a vegetarian meal. Perceiving his fear, Tripitaka said: "Sir, do not be alarmed. My three disciples may be ugly in appearance, but their hearts are good. As the saying goes, 'Fierce faces, kind hearts'—why should you fear?"

Upon hearing this, the director at last composed himself and asked: "Master, where does the land of Tang lie?" Tripitaka said: "In the Southern Continent of Jambudvīpa, the land of Cathay." He asked further: "When did you leave home?" Tripitaka said: "In the thirteenth year of the Zhenguan reign. Fourteen years have now passed. We have suffered through countless mountains and rivers before arriving here." The director said: "Divine monk! Divine monk!" Tripitaka asked: "How many years has your honored kingdom existed?" The director said: "Our humble land is the Great Kingdom of Tianzhu. From the Grand Progenitor and the Grand Successor down to the present, more than five hundred years have passed. The present sovereign delights in landscape and flowers; his reign title is Emperor Yizong, and he has changed the era name to Jingyan. Twenty-eight years have now elapsed." Tripitaka said: "Today this poor monk wishes to have an audience with the emperor to exchange the official documents. I wonder if he will be holding court?" The director said: "Excellent, excellent—just in time! Recently, because the princess has reached the bloom of twenty years, she has erected a decorated tower at the crossroads and is tossing an embroidered ball from it to choose a husband by 'striking heaven's match.' Today is the height of the festivities. I imagine His Majesty the king has not yet left court. If you wish to exchange your documents, this is the perfect time to go." Tripitaka was eager to set out, but just then a vegetarian meal was laid out, so he ate with the director and Wukong.

It was already past noon. Tripitaka said: "I should go now." Wukong said: "I'll escort you, Master." Bajie said: "I'll go." Sha Wujing said: "Elder Brother, stop. Your face isn't exactly presentable—don't go standing fatly outside the palace gate. Better let Big Brother go." Tripitaka said: "Wujing speaks well. The fool is coarse, but Wukong has some finesse." The fool pouted his lips and said: "Except for you, Master, the faces of the three of us are pretty much the same." Tripitaka then put on his cassock, and Wukong took the document pouch, and they set out together. Along the street, the scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants, men of letters, and common folk all exclaimed together: "Let's go watch the embroidered ball!" Tripitaka stood by the roadside and said to Wukong: "Here the people's dress, their palaces and vessels, their speech and conversation—all are the same as in our Great Tang. I recall that my own mother in secular life also tossed an embroidered ball and met her old karmic bond, becoming husband and wife. This place shares the same custom." Wukong said: "Shall we go take a look too?" Tripitaka said: "No, no. Our attire is unsuitable; we might arouse suspicion." Wukong said: "Master, have you forgotten what the old monk at the Almsgiving Temple of Pratyekabuddha said? First, go look at the decorated tower; second, distinguish the true from the false. If you're in such a hurry, the emperor is sure to be listening to the princess's happy tidings—how could he be holding court to govern? Let's just go and come back." Tripitaka, hearing this, went with Wukong, and they saw all manner of people gathered there watching the tossing of the embroidered ball. Ah! Little did they know that this trip would be:

The fisherman has cast his hook and line,

And from this day, he will fish up trouble and strife.

Now we must tell of the king of Tianzhu. Fond of landscapes and flowers, he had gone two years before with his queen and princess to enjoy the moonlit night in the imperial garden. There a demon spirit was aroused, who carried off the true princess and transformed himself into a false one. Knowing that Tripitaka would arrive in this very year, month, day, and hour, the false princess, availing herself of the kingdom's wealth, erected a decorated tower, intending to invite the monk to become her husband, that she might absorb his primal yang essence and become a Supreme Immortal of the Great Unity.

It was the third mark of noon. Tripitaka and the others had mingled into the crowd and approached the tower. The princess then lit incense and prayed to Heaven and Earth. On either side stood fifty or seventy beauties in embroidered robes, her attendants holding the embroidered ball. The tower had eight windows, all transparent and bright. The princess turned her eyes to watch. Seeing Tripitaka approach quite near, she took the ball and threw it by hand, striking him on the head. Tripitaka was startled. His Kashaya cap was knocked askew, and with both hands he steadied the ball. It rolled into the sleeve of his robe. Those on the tower cried out together, "It's hit a monk! It's hit a monk!" Ah! At the crossroads, all the merchants and travelers, a bustling throng, rushed forward to snatch the ball. But the Great Sage shouted once, bared his fangs, bent his waist, and grew to a divine height of thirty feet, making an ugly face. The people were so frightened that they stumbled and crawled, daring not come near. In an instant the crowd dispersed. The Great Sage then resumed his true form.

The embroidered ladies, palace women, and eunuchs of all ranks on the tower came and bowed to Tripitaka. "Honored one, honored one, please come to the court to celebrate," they said. Tripitaka hastily returned their bows and raised them, then turned to scold the Great Sage: "You monkey head, you've made a fool of me again!" The Great Sage laughed. "The embroidered ball struck your head and rolled into your sleeve. What has that to do with me? Why blame me?" Tripitaka asked, "What are we to do now?" The Great Sage said, "Master, don't worry. Go into the court and have an audience with the king. I'll return to the post-house and tell Pigsy and Sandy to wait there. If the princess doesn't insist on marrying you, then after exchanging the travel documents you can go. But if she must have you, tell the king: 'Summon my disciples, I have something to say to them.' When the three of us are summoned to court, I'll be able to distinguish the true from the false. This is the stratagem of 'using marriage to subdue the demon.'" Tripitaka had no choice but to agree, and the Great Sage turned and went back to the post-house.

The elder was ushered by the palace women to the front of the tower. The princess descended, took his hand with her jade fingers, and together they mounted the precious carriage. The retinue was drawn up, and they returned to the palace gate. A eunuch official had already reported ahead: "Your Majesty, the princess is supporting a monk. It seems the ball struck him. He waits outside the Meridian Gate for your command." The king was displeased but, not knowing the princess's wishes, could only summon them with suppressed feeling. The princess and Tripitaka proceeded to the Golden Hall of the Throne, and indeed it was as the saying goes: a couple calling out "Long live Your Majesty!"—two parties, one true and one false, bowing for a thousand years.

After the rites, they were summoned to the throne, where the king asked, "Whence comes this monk, who was struck by my daughter's ball?" Tripitaka knelt and reported, "I am a poor monk sent by the Great Tang Emperor of the Continent of Jambudvipa to the Thunder Monastery in the Western Heaven to worship Buddha and obtain scriptures. Having travel documents, I came especially to Your Majesty to exchange them. Passing beneath the decorated tower at the crossroads, I did not expect the princess to throw her ball and strike me on the head. I am a renunciant of a different faith. How dare I be paired with a jade leaf and golden branch? I beg Your Majesty to pardon my capital crime, exchange the documents, and send me early to Vulture Peak to see Buddha and obtain the scriptures, that I may return to my homeland and forever remember Your Majesty's heavenly kindness." The king said, "You are a holy monk of the Eastern Land. Truly, 'a thousand-mile marriage is tied by a thread.' My princess is now twenty and unmarried. Because today's year, month, day, and hour are all auspicious, we erected the decorated tower and threw the ball to seek a worthy husband. And it happened that you were hit. Though I am not pleased, I do not know what the princess intends."

The princess kowtowed and said, "Father, it is said, 'Marry a chicken, follow a chicken; marry a dog, follow a dog.' Your daughter made a vow beforehand: she tied this ball and prayed to the gods of Heaven and Earth, casting it to find a husband by chance. That she struck the holy monk today means they were destined in a previous life and have met in this one. How could she change her wish? She begs you to make him the Prince Consort." The king was then pleased and immediately summoned the Director of the Imperial Observatory to select a date. Meanwhile, trousseau preparations were begun, and a proclamation was issued throughout the realm.

When Tripitaka heard this, he did not even thank the king but only said, "Pardon, pardon." The king said, "This monk is most unreasonable. With all the wealth of a kingdom I make you my Prince Consort. Why not enjoy it here, when all you think of is obtaining scriptures? If you refuse again, I will have the Embroidered Guard officers execute you." The elder was so frightened that his soul nearly left his body. Trembling, he kowtowed and reported, "I am grateful for Your Majesty's heavenly kindness. But my party of four still has three disciples outside. I should accept, but I have not yet given them a single instruction. I beg you to summon them here, that I may exchange the documents and send them on their way, so as not to delay the journey from the West." The king granted permission and asked, "Where are your disciples?" Tripitaka said, "They are all at the Assembly Post-House." Officials were immediately sent to summon the holy monk's disciples to receive the documents and proceed west, while the holy monk was to remain as Prince Consort. The elder had no choice but to rise and stand waiting. There is a poem that testifies:

The great elixir must be complete in three—

Hard practice is hard to achieve, resenting evil karma.

The Way is transmitted by the saints, cultivation lies in oneself;

Good is accumulated by man, blessings come from Heaven.

Do not indulge the six roots in greed—

Suddenly open the one nature to its original source.

Without love or thought, naturally pure and still—

This will bring liberation and transcendence.

At that time, officials were sent to the Assembly Post-House to summon Tripitaka's disciples, but this is not our concern here.

Thus it was that Pilgrim, having taken leave of Tripitaka at the ornamental tower, walked a few steps, laughed a few laughs, and returned to the post-house in high spirits. Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing came up to meet him and said, "Brother, why are you grinning like that? Where's the Master?" "The Master is delighted," said Pilgrim. "We haven't even reached the destination yet," said Bajie. "We haven't seen the Buddha or obtained the scriptures and returned. What's there to be happy about?" Pilgrim laughed and said, "The Master and I had only reached the ornamental tower at the crossroads when, as luck would have it, the princess of the realm threw her embroidered ball and hit the Master. The palace ladies, the maidens, and the eunuchs pushed and carried him up to the tower, and he rode in the princess's carriage into the court to be made the imperial son-in-law. If that isn't joy, what is?" When Bajie heard this, he stamped his feet and beat his chest. "If I had known, I should have gone! It's all because that Sha Wujing is so lazy. You didn't stop me—I would have rushed straight to the ornamental tower, and if that embroidered ball had hit old Pig, and the princess had taken me, wouldn't that have been splendid? Handsome, elegant, fine and proper—we all could have had a glorious time together. What fun that would have been!" Sha Wujing stepped forward and wiped his face with his hand. "Shame on you! Shame! What a mouth you have! That's like buying an old donkey for three coppers and boasting you can ride it. If an embroidered ball had hit you, they would have burned the funeral paper before the night was through and still said it was too late—how dare you bring your filthy luck through the door?" "You black fellow have no sense," said Bajie. "Ugly as I am, I still have my charms. As the saying goes: 'Rough skin and flesh, but bones strong and firm—each has something to recommend it.'" "Don't babble, Idiot!" said Pilgrim. "Pack up the luggage. I'm afraid the Master will be anxious and send for us. We'd better be ready to go into the palace to protect him." "Brother, you're wrong again," said Bajie. "The Master has become an imperial son-in-law. He'll be in the palace enjoying himself with the emperor's daughter. It's not like climbing mountains or fording streams, meeting monsters and demons—why would he need your protection? At his age, he surely knows what goes on in the marriage bed. Does he need you to help him?" Pilgrim seized him by the ear, swung his fist, and cursed: "You lout with your lecherous mind! What kind of nonsense is that?"

While they were still bickering, the post-house director came to report: "His Majesty has issued an edict. Officials have been sent to invite the three divine monks." "What exactly do they want us for?" asked Bajie. "The venerable elder monk was fortunate enough to be hit by the princess's embroidered ball and has been made the imperial son-in-law. That is why officials have been sent to invite you." "Where are the officials?" said Pilgrim. "Tell them to come in." The official bowed to Pilgrim. When the ceremony was over, he did not dare look up but muttered to himself: "Is this a ghost? A demon? A Thunder God? A yaksha?" "Why do you mumble, Official?" said Pilgrim. "If you have something to say, say it." Trembling with fright, the official held up the imperial edict with both hands and stammered: "My princess requests a family gathering. My lord the duke requests a family gathering." "There are no instruments of torture here," said Bajie. "We won't beat you. Take your time and speak—don't be afraid." "Do you think he's afraid of being beaten?" said Pilgrim. "He's afraid of your ugly face. Quick, pack the load and lead the horse. We're going into the palace to see the Master and discuss the matter." And so it is said:

When paths meet where there is no room to turn,

Love and gratitude become foes in return.

As for what was said when they saw the king, let it be told in the next chapter.