Chapter 94

Chapter 94

Thus it was that the three disciples of Sun Xingzhe followed the summons-official to a spot outside the Palace Gate, and the Eunuch Officer at once reported their arrival and had them ushered in. The three stood in a row and made no obeisance. The king asked, "Who are the three who are the honored disciples of the imperial son-in-law, the holy monk? What are your names? Where do you live? Why did you become monks? What scriptures are you seeking?"

Xingzhe stepped forward, intending to ascend the throne-hall. The bodyguards who stood nearby shouted, "Don't move! If you have anything to say, stand where you are and report it."

Xingzhe laughed and said, "We monks of the Way—we take one step forward and then another." Then Bajie and Shasheng also stepped forward together.

The Elder, fearing they might behave crudely and startle the sovereign, rose and called out, "Disciples! The king asks about your origins. Report them."

Seeing his own master standing by the side, Xingzhe could not restrain himself and gave a great cry: "Your Majesty undervalues others and yourself! Since you have taken my master as your imperial son-in-law, how can you let him stand? In this world a son-in-law is called a 'noble person'—is there any reason a noble person should not be seated?"

When the king heard this, he was greatly alarmed and turned pale. He wished to withdraw from the hall, but feared losing face. Forcing himself to be brave, he ordered his attendants to bring an embroidered stool and invited Tang Seng to sit. Then Xingzhe reported:

"I, Old Sun, originally lived in the Water-Curtain Cave of Flower-Fruit Mountain in the Aolai Kingdom of the Eastern Continent of Superior Glory. My father was Heaven, my mother Earth—I was born from a stone that split. I once paid homage to a supreme master and learned the Great Way. Then I returned to the immortal realm, roaring and gathering together in blessed lands and cave-heavens. I descended to the sea and subdued dragons; I climbed mountains and captured beasts. I erased my name from the Book of Death and wrote it in the Book of Life. I was appointed Great Sage Equal to Heaven. I enjoyed the jade towers and delighted in roaming the precious pavilions. I consorted with celestial immortals, singing with joy each day; I dwelt in the sacred realm, happy morning after morning. But because I threw the Peach Festival into chaos and rebelled against Heaven, I was captured by Buddha. I was imprisoned beneath the Five-Elements Mountain, eating iron pellets when hungry and drinking copper broth when thirsty—for five hundred years I tasted neither tea nor rice. Then fortunately my master set out from the Eastern Land to worship in the West, and Guanyin commanded that I be delivered from Heaven's calamity and separated from great peril, converted to the true fold of Yoga. My former name was Wukong, and I am called Xingzhe."

When the king heard such an exalted reputation, he was so startled that he descended from the Dragon Couch and came forward, taking the Elder's hand in his own imperial hand. "Imperial son-in-law," he said, "this too is a Heavenly affinity of mine—that I should encounter such immortal kinship as yours!"

Sanzang thanked him profusely and asked the king to resume his seat.

The king then asked, "Which is the second honored disciple?"

Bajie thrust out his snout and declared his prowess:

"Old Pig was originally a man in his former life, fond of pleasure and devoted to laziness. All was confusion—his nature was disordered and his heart bewildered. He did not know the height of Heaven or the depth of Earth, nor could he fathom the vastness of the sea or the distance of the mountains. Just when he was living in idle seclusion, he happened to meet a True Man. Half a sentence broke open the net of sin; two or three words split apart the gate of calamity. At once he awoke and took a master on the spot. He diligently cultivated the practice of the Two Times Eight, and reverently refined the Three Times Three, front and back. When his cultivation was complete, he ascended in flight and surpassed the Heavenly Court. By the great favor of the Jade Emperor, he was appointed Marshal Tianpeng, commanding the river troops, roaming freely at ease in the Han celestial precincts. But because he became drunk at the Peach Festival and teased Chang'e, he was stripped of his rank and banished to the mortal world. He entered the wrong womb and was born in the form of a pig. He dwelt on Fuiling Mountain, committing boundless evil. Then he met Guanyin, who showed him the path of goodness. He converted to Buddhism and has been protecting Tang Seng, traveling straight to the Western Heaven to seek the wondrous canon. His dharma name is Wuneng, and he is called Bajie."

When the king heard this, his heart trembled with fear and he dared not look at him. The fool only put on more airs—shaking his head, thrusting out his snout, pricking up his ears, and laughing "heh-heh." Sanzang, again fearing to startle the sovereign, scolded him: "Bajie, control yourself!" Only then did he fold his hands and stand in a pretense of refinement.

The king asked again, "And the third honored disciple—why did he take refuge?"

Shasheng pressed his palms together and said:

"Old Sha was originally a common mortal who, fearing the cycle of rebirth, went seeking the Way. He wandered to the corners of the sea and drifted to the ends of the sky. He always kept his begging bowl and robe with him, and constantly refined his spirit in his dwelling. Because of his sincerity, he met an immortal companion. He nurtured the infant and joined with the maiden. When his merit reached three thousand and he harmonized the Four Phases, he surpassed the celestial realm and paid homage to the August Heaven. He was appointed Curtain-Lifting General, attending the phoenix carriage and dragon chariot, with the title of General. But at the Peach Festival, he accidentally shattered a glass cup and was banished to the Flowing-Sand River. He changed his face and form, committing sins and harming living beings. Fortunately the Bodhisattva traveled to the Eastern Land and exhorted me to convert. I have been waiting for the Tang monk to go to the Western Heaven to seek the scriptures and attain the fruit of righteousness. I have reformed myself anew and cultivated the Great Awakening. I took the river as my surname; my dharma name is Wujing, and I am called Shasheng."

When the king heard this, he was both greatly startled and greatly pleased: pleased that his daughter had attracted a living Buddha, startled that the three were in fact divine demons. Just as he was caught between surprise and delight, the Director of the Observatory reported, "The wedding date has been set: the twelfth day of this month, the renzi hour, is auspicious in all directions and favorable for marriage."

The king asked, "What is today's date?"

The Director replied, "Today is the eighth, the day of wushen—the day when monkeys present fruit, most suitable for welcoming the worthy and receiving affairs."

The king was greatly pleased. He ordered the Palace Department to sweep and prepare the towers and pavilions of the Imperial Garden, and invited the imperial son-in-law and his three honored disciples to rest there. Later he would arrange the nuptial banquet and have the princess matched with them. All received his commands with reverence. The king retired from court, and the many officials dispersed—no more of this.

Now then, when the Master and his disciples arrived at the Imperial Garden, the sky was growing dark and a vegetarian meal was laid out. Bajie said with delight, "Well, today at last we ought to eat!" The stewards immediately brought whole loads of plain rice and noodles. Bajie ate and asked for more, asked for more and ate again, until his belly was stuffed and his stomach drum-tight, and only then did he stop. Shortly after, lamps were lit and bedding was laid out, and each of them retired to sleep.

Seeing no one about, the Elder berated Pilgrim Sun, calling out angrily in a wrathful tone: "Wukong, you wretched monkey, you've done nothing but harm me time and again. I told you we were only going to exchange the passport and not to go to the embroidered tower. Why did you insist on leading me there to take a look? And now that we've had a fine look, what a mess you've gotten us into. What are we to do?" Pilgrim said with a smile to placate him: "You, Master, said yourself: 'My mother before me also tossed an embroidered ball, met her old affinity, and so became husband and wife.' You seemed to have a yearning for the ways of old, and that's why old Monkey led you there. I was also thinking about what the Elder of the Jetavana Monastery said, so I wanted to examine the truth or falsehood of the situation. When I just now caught a glimpse of that emperor's face, it appeared rather clouded and dark, but I had not yet seen what the princess looked like." The Elder asked, "What would you do if you saw the princess?" Pilgrim said: "With old Monkey's Fiery Eyes and Golden Pupils, I can recognize truth and falsehood, good and evil, wealth and poverty the moment I lay eyes on someone. I'll be able to devise a good plan and distinguish the crooked from the straight." Shaseng and Bajie both laughed and said, "Elder Brother, you've recently learned how to read faces, haven't you?" Pilgrim said: "Those face-reading fortune-tellers aren't even fit to be my grandson!" Sandang scolded: "Stop your idle chatter. The fact is that the king is determined to take me as his son-in-law. What on earth are we to do?" Pilgrim said: "Let's wait until the twelfth, the day of the wedding feast. The princess will certainly come out to pay her respects to her parents, and old Monkey will watch from the side. If she's a real woman, then you'll just become the imperial son-in-law and enjoy the splendor and glory of this kingdom." When Sandang heard this, his anger flared even more, and he cursed: "You wretched monkey! You're still trying to ruin me! It's just as Wuneng said—we've already gone nine and seven-eighths of the ten stages, and yet you keep needling me with your hot tongue. Hurry up and shut it, don't open that foul mouth of yours. If you're impudent again, I'll start reciting the spell, and you won't be able to stand it." When Pilgrim heard that the spell would be recited, he was so frightened that he fell to his knees before him, saying: "Don't recite it, don't recite it! If she's a real woman, when it's time for the wedding ceremony, we'll make a great ruckus in the imperial palace together and take you away."

While master and disciples were talking, the night had deepened without their noticing. Indeed:

The palace water-clock sinks deep, the fragrance of flowers shrouds the air. Carved doors hang with bejeweled curtains; in the quiet courtyards, no lamplight glows. The swing ropes hang cold, casting shadows in vain; the Qiang flute's lingering notes still the four directions. Flowers surround the halls,笼笼 the moon's radiance; beyond the sky, no trees obscure the stars' brilliance. The cuckoo has ceased its crying, and the butterflies dream on and on. The Silver River stretches across the heavens; white clouds return to their homeland. It is the hour when parted hearts feel keenest sorrow—the wind stirs the tender willows, adding yet more desolation.

Bajie said: "Master, it's late at night. Whatever needs discussing can wait until tomorrow morning. Let's sleep, let's sleep." Master and disciples indeed rested for the night.

Soon the golden cock crowed at dawn. The king ascended his throne and held his morning court. Behold:

The palace halls opened their windows, purple vapors rising high; the wind carried the imperial music through the blue sky. Clouds shifted, and the leopard-tail banners stirred; the sun shone upon the dragon-head ornaments and their jade pendants swayed. Fragrant mists delicately added to the green of the palace willows; dewdrops gently moistened the garden flowers, making them all the more lovely. A thousand officials lined up, calling "Long live the king" and performing the court dance—a reign of peace and prosperity over a unified realm.

When the civil and military officials had finished their court audience, the king further proclaimed: "Let the Court of Imperial Entertainments arrange the wedding feast for the twelfth. For today, prepare the spring wine jars and invite the imperial son-in-law to enjoy himself in the Imperial Garden." He ordered the Court of Ceremonies to take the three worthy relatives to the State Guest House to sit for a while, and directed the Court of Imperial Entertainments to arrange three vegetarian banquets to be served there in their honor. Music was to be performed by the Music Academy in both places, to accompany them as they enjoyed the spring scenery and while away the lingering day. When Bajie heard this, he called out: "Your Majesty, we disciples and our master have never been apart for even a moment since we came together. Since today's banquet is to be in the Imperial Garden, take us along to amuse ourselves for two or three days, so that my master can properly become your imperial son-in-law for your family. Otherwise, this business deal won't come off." The king saw that he was ugly and spoke crudely, and also noticed him twisting his neck, pinching his cheeks, pursing his lips, and wiggling his ears—he seemed somewhat touched with madness. Fearing that he might disrupt the marriage, the king had no choice but to comply. He then ordered: "Arrange two tables in the Pavilion for the Pacification of the Chinese and Barbarians, where I will sit with the imperial son-in-law. Set up three tables on the Retaining Spring Terrace for the three of them to sit separately, as it might be inconvenient for master and disciples to share seating." Only then did the idiot make a bow toward the throne and say with a cry: "Many thanks!" They all withdrew. The king further commanded the inner palace officials to arrange a banquet, and ordered the empresses and consorts of the three palaces and six quarters to dress the princess and adorn her, to add to her trousseau, in preparation for the auspicious union on the twelfth.

It was nearly the hour of the snake when the king arranged his imperial procession and invited Tripitaka to come with him to view the Imperial Garden. What a splendid place:

The paths were paved with colored stones; the railings were carved and chiseled. Along the paths of colored stones, rare flowers grew beside the stones; by the carved railings, exotic blossoms sprang up outside the rails. Luscious peacocks were bewildered by the kingfishers; tender willows flashed with golden orioles. With every step, a subtle fragrance filled their sleeves; as they walked, the pure essence clung to their robes. There were phoenix terraces and dragon ponds, bamboo pavilions and pine halls. Upon the phoenix terrace, music was played to summon the phoenix to descend; within the dragon pond, fish were raised to transform into dragons and depart. The bamboo pavilion bore poetry, polished with painstaking effort like white snow; the pine hall's literary collection, refined like pearls and jade, was inscribed upon blue-bound volumes. The artificial mountains were verdant with fist-sized rocks; the winding streams were deep with emerald waves. The peony pavilion, the rose trellis—layered brocade and piled velvet; the jasmine railing, the begonia bed—heaped rosy clouds and mounded jade. The peony gave off an extraordinary fragrance; the hollyhock displayed wondrous beauty. White pear and red apricot vied in their fragrance; purple orchids and golden daylilies competed in their brilliance. The spring magnolia, the snapdragon, the azalea—lush and radiant; the smiling flower, the balsam, the plantain lily—trembling and tall. Here and there, crimson透过 through rouged moistness; in clusters and masses, rich fragrance surrounded brocade. How much more delightful when the east wind returns with warm days—the whole garden flaunts its tender beauty and radiant glory.

The king and his party gazed at the scene for a long while. Before long, an official from the Court of Ceremonies invited the three pilgrims to the Retaining Spring Terrace, while the king took Tripitaka up to the Pavilion for the Pacification of the Chinese and Barbarians, and they each enjoyed their banquets. The singing, dancing, and musical performances, the lavish decorations and arrangements—truly:

The towering palace gates gave birth to the dawn's light; auspicious mist lay across the phoenix pavilion and dragon tower. Spring colors were embroidered in fine detail upon the flowers and grass; celestial light shone from afar upon the gleaming brocade robes. Flutes and songs waisted about like an immortal's feast; wine cups flew about, the jade liquid clear. The lord rejoiced and his ministers were glad, enjoying the view together—the Chinese and Barbarians pacified forever, the world at peace and prosperity.

At this time, the elder monk saw that the king held him in great esteem, yet he could find no way out of his predicament. He had no choice but to feign delight outwardly, though inwardly he was filled with anxiety indeed. Seated there, he noticed four golden screens hanging upon the walls, each painted with a scene of one of the four seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Each bore a poetic inscription, all composed by distinguished scholars of the Imperial Academy.

The "Spring Scene Poem" read:

The universal qi revolves through the great forge,

The earth in warmth and joy, all things renewed.

Peach and plum compete in beauty, flowers in riotous bloom,

Swallows come to painted rafters, layering fragrant dust.

The "Summer Scene Poem" read:

The balmy breeze blows gently, lulling all to rest,

Courtyard pomegranates and sunflowers blaze in daylight.

The jade flute's melody startles the midday dream,

Lotus fragrance drifts into the curtained hall.

The "Autumn Scene Poem" read:

The golden well's paulownia sheds a single yellow leaf,

Pearl curtains unrolled against the night's arriving frost.

Swallows, knowing the day of the earth god, leave their nests,

Geese break through reed flowers, crossing to distant lands.

The "Winter Scene Poem" read:

Heaven sends flying clouds, dim and cold,

The north wind drives snow to pile upon a thousand mountains.

Deep within the palace, warm braziers glow,

And word comes: plum blossoms open, jade fills the railing.

Seeing the Tang monk absorbed in reading the poems, the king said, "The prince consort delights in savoring the flavor of poetry—he must surely be skilled in versification. If he would not begrind his precious pearls of verse, might he compose a matching poem for each, following the same rhyme?" The elder monk was one who, confronted with scenery, forgot all worldly attachments and illuminated his mind to perceive his true nature. Yet seeing the king's high regard and command that he match the rhymes, he inadvertently recited aloud: "The sun warms and ice melts—the great earth balanced." The king was greatly pleased and summoned an attendant official: "Bring the four treasures of the study. Let the prince consort complete his matching poems and write them down, that I may savor them at leisure." The elder monk cheerfully accepted and took up his brush:

The "Matching Spring Scene Poem" read:

The sun warms and ice melts—the great earth balanced,

The imperial garden's flowers bloom anew again.

Gentle winds and nourishing rain bring blessings to the people,

Calm seas and clear rivers—far from vulgar dust.

The "Matching Summer Scene Poem" read:

The Dipper points south, the white day stretches long,

Clouds of locust shade and pomegranate fire vie in splendor.

Orioles and purple swallows sing among palace willows,

Cleverly turning double notes into crimson curtains.

The "Matching Autumn Scene Poem" read:

Fragrance drifts from green tangerines and golden oranges,

Pine and cypress remain verdant, rejoicing in descending frost.

Chrysanthemums by the fence half-open, brocade gathered,

Sheng and ge songs resound through the realm of water and clouds.

The "Matching Winter Scene Poem" read:

Auspious snow clears—the air is cold,

Wondrous peaks and cunning rocks, jade-mounded mountains.

The brazier burns animal charcoal, warming酥酪 cream,

Hands folded, singing high, leaning upon green railings.

The king, seeing the matching poems, was overjoyed and declared: "Excellent—'Hands folded, singing high, leaning upon green railings'!" He then ordered the Music Bureau to set the new poems to music, and the festivities lasted the entire day.

The three pilgrims at the Liuchun Pavilion also enjoyed themselves to the full, each drinking several cups, and all grew somewhat intoxicated. They were just about to go find the elder monk when they saw that he had already gone off with the king to a pavilion. Bajie's foolish nature took hold, and he called out loudly: "What delight! What freedom! Today we've had our fill of enjoyment. Now we ought to take advantage of our full bellies and go to sleep!" Sha Wujing laughed and said, "Second Brother, you truly lack cultivation. How can you sleep with such a bellyful?" Bajie replied, "What do you know? As the saying goes: 'After eating, if you don't lie down, your belly has no fat in it.'"

The Tang monk, having taken leave of the king, came to the pavilion and rebuked Bajie angrily: "You wretched creature, you grow ever more vulgar. What manner of place is this, that you shout and bawl so? Should you anger the king, would he not take our lives?" Bajie said, "No harm done, no harm done. We are in-laws with him, bound by family courtesy—he won't take offense. As the saying goes: 'You cannot break a relative, you cannot sever a neighbor.' We're just having a bit of fun—what's there to fear?" The elder scolded him and ordered them to bring the fool over and give him twenty blows with the staff. Wukong seized him and threw him down, and the elder raised the staff to strike. The fool cried out, "Prince Consort Grandfather! Mercy, mercy!" The attending officials who had accompanied the feast interceded. The fool scrambled to his feet, muttering and grumbling: "What a fine lord, what a fine prince consort—before the marriage is even solemnified, he starts wielding royal law!" Wukong clamped his hand over his mouth and said, "Don't babble, don't babble—go to sleep at once."

They stayed another night at the Liuchun Pavilion. By the next morning, the feasting and merriment resumed.

Before they knew it, three or four days had passed in delight, and the twelfth day—an auspicious date—arrived. The officials of the three departments of the Guanglu Temple reported: "Since receiving Your Majesty's edict on the eighth day, the prince consort's mansion has been completed, awaiting only the furnishing of the bridal trousseau. The wedding feast is also fully prepared, with over five hundred courses of meat and vegetarian dishes combined." The king was pleased and wished to invite the prince consort to the feast when an inner palace official stepped forward and reported: "Your Majesty, the Empress requests an audience." The king retired to the inner palace, where he found the three palaces of empresses and the six courts of concubines leading the princess, all gathered in the Zhaoyang Palace in merry conversation. Truly it was a profusion of flowers—that scene of luxurious splendor surpassed even the moon palaces of heaven and rivaled the jade halls of the immortals. Four new poems on the joy of this auspicious union served as testimony.

The "Joy Poem" read:

Joy, joy, joy—rapturous delight!

Marriage joined, love and beauty.

Exquisite palace adornments—how could Chang'e compare?

Dragon hairpins and phoenix hairpins, gleaming with golden threads.

Cherry lips, lustrous teeth, a rosy face,

Willowy and graceful, a body light as a flower.

Layer upon layer of brocade, amidst five-colored blooms,

Fragrance wafting, among a thousand-gold company.

The "Union Poem" read:

Union, union, union—enchanting and alluring.

Surpassing Mao Qiang, outshining the Chu maiden.

A nation-toppling, city-toppling beauty, compared to flowers and jade.

Adornments still more radiant, hair ornaments more resplendent.

Orchid heart and chrysanthemum nature—lofty and pure,

Powdered face and ice-like skin—glorious and noble.

Eyebrows like a single line of distant mountains,

Graceful and graceful, gathered among the brocade ranks.

The "Auspicious Poem" read:

Auspicious, auspicious, auspicious—a jade maiden, an immortal lass.

Deeply lovable, truly praiseworthy.

Rare fragrance rich and full, rouge and powder intertwined.

The blessed land of Mount Tiantai is far away—how can it compare to the king's house?

Laughter and chatter, coy and charming,

Sheng songs and ge music, swirling and clamorous.

Flowers piled and brocade-laid in a thousand forms of beauty—

Surveyed all of the human world, none can match this.

The "Marriage Poem" read:

Marriage, marriage, marriage—orchid and musk spraying.

Array of immortals, throng of beauties.

Concubines exchange their colors, the princess adorns herself anew.

Cloud-like tresses piled into crow-black hair,

Rainbow robes pressing down phoenix skirts.

A strain of immortal music, ringing clear,

Two rows of crimson and purple, brilliant and variegated.

In former years the pledge of riding the phoenix was made,

This morning, blessed joy—the auspicious union fulfilled.

Then the king arrived in his carriage, and the empress led the princess, together with the painted ladies and palace maids, all coming forth to greet him. The king, rejoicing, entered the Zhaoyang Palace and sat down. After the empress and the others had finished their court obeisance, the king said, "My virtuous daughter, since the eighth day when you set up the colored pavilion and threw the embroidered ball, you have had the good fortune to meet the holy monk. I suppose your heart's wish has already been fulfilled. The officials of every yamen have also understood my wishes, and all preparations have been completed. Today is the auspicious day itself. Let us hasten to the nuptural feast and not miss the appointed hour."

The princess stepped forward, bowed low, and said, "Father, I beg you to pardon your daughter's manifold offenses. I have something to report: these days I have heard the palace officials say that the Tang holy monk has three disciples, and they are exceedingly ugly. Your daughter does not dare to see them, for fear that upon seeing them she will surely be frightened. I earnestly hope that Father will send them out of the city—only then will my frail body not be alarmed and injured, and only then will disaster be averted."

The king said, "Had you not mentioned it, child, I had nearly forgotten. They are indeed somewhat ugly-looking. For the past few days I have had them entertained in the Pavilion of Lingering Spring in the Imperial Garden. Let us take advantage of today to summon them to the hall, give them their travel documents, and send them out of the city—then we can proceed with the banquet."

The princess knocked her head in thanks for the king's grace. The king then went forth in his carriage to the main hall and issued an edict summoning the Royal Son-in-Law together with his three companions.

Now Tripitaka had been counting the days on his fingers, and when the twelfth day arrived, before dawn he conferred with his three disciples. "Today is the twelfth," he said. "How shall we deal with this matter?"

Wukong said, "I have already discerned that the king carries a certain ill fortune upon him, but it has not yet touched him, so it is no great harm. The only difficulty is that we have not yet seen the princess. If she comes out, this old Sun will take one look and know whether she is genuine or false, and only then will we act. You need not worry. The king will certainly come to invite us and send us out of the city. You just agree to it and do not be afraid. I will slip away and come back at once, to follow and protect you closely."

The master and disciples were just discussing this when indeed the palace officials and the Ceremonial Bureau came to invite them. Wukong laughed and said, "Let us go, let us go. They must be seeing us off, so that our Master can have his reunion."

Zhu Bajie said, "A send-off must surely come with a thousand taels of gold and silver. We can buy some gifts to take back. When I go to my father-in-law's house, I can visit and have some fun again."

Sha Wujing said, "Second Brother, keep your mouth shut and do not babble. Let Elders Brother decide."

Thereupon they took their luggage and horses and followed the officials to the palace steps. When the king saw them, he had the three brought near and said, "Hand me your travel documents. I will affix the imperial seal and the floral signature and give them to you. In addition, I have prepared ample traveling expenses to send you three on your way early to the Vulture Peak to see the Buddha. When you return with the scriptures, there will be further thanks. Let the Royal Son-in-Law remain here; do not worry about him."

Wukong gave thanks. He then told Sha Wujing to take out the travel documents and present them. The king examined them, immediately affixed the seal and signed with the floral mark, and also took out ten ingots of gold and twenty ingots of silver as a token of kinship. Zhu Bajie, whose heart was ever set on wealth and beauty, promptly went to receive them.

Wukong made a slight bow toward the throne and said, "Much obliged, much obliged." He then turned to leave. Tripitaka, in a flurry, scrambled up and seized Wukong, grinding his teeth and saying, "You are all going off and leaving me?"

Wukng took Tripitaka's hand, gave him a meaningful look, and said, "You enjoy yourself here at ease. When we have obtained the scriptures, we will come back to see you." The old master half believed and half doubted, and would not let go. The many officials all saw this and thought they were truly taking their leave of one another.

Presently the king again summoned the Royal Son-in-Law to the hall and ordered the many officials to escort the three out of the city. The master had no choice but to release his hand and ascend the hall.

Wukong and the three companions left the palace gate with the crowd and took their leave of one another. Zhu Bajie said, "Are we really going?"

Wukong said nothing. He simply led the way to the post station. The station master received them, served tea, and laid out a meal. Wukong said to Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing, "You two stay here and on no account show your heads. If the station master asks anything, give vague answers, but do not speak to me. I will go and protect our Master."

The great Sage plucked a single hair, blew a breath of immortal breath, and cried, "Transform!" It immediately transformed into his own likeness and remained in the post station together with Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing. His true body, with a flick, leaped into midair and transformed into a bee. Behold:

Yellow wings, sweet mouth, sharp tail,

Drifting wildly with the wind.

Most skilled at plucking stamens and stealing fragrance,

Swaying as it passes through willows and flowers.

After much toil and dyeing,

It flies back and forth in vain labor.

It brews rich sweetness—yet for whom?

Only to leave behind its name and form.

Watch as it lightly flew into the palace. From afar it saw Tripitaka sitting on an embroidered cushion to the left of the king, his brows knitted in worry, his heart filled with anxiety. The bee flew straight to his Brahminical cap and crawled quietly to his ear, calling out, "Master, I am here. Do not worry." Only Tripitaka heard these words; the crowd of mortals had no idea. When Tripitaka heard it, his heart at ease at last.

Before long, an official came and announced, "Your Majesty, the nuptial feast has been arranged in the Magpie Palace. The Empress and the princess are both waiting in the palace. They invite Your Majesty and the Noble Lord to come for the family reunion."

The king was overjoyed and entered the palace together with the Royal Son-in-Law. Truly it was as the saying goes:

A wicked ruler loves flowers, and flowers bring disaster;

A meditative heart stirs thoughts, and thoughts breed sorrow.

How Tripitanga managed to free himself within the inner palace—this you will hear explained in the next chapter.