The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (45 page)

    
There’s green moss on the bridge-head’s winding path:

    
The scene of this garden’s desolate!”
⁵

“Why waste your breath in this lamentation?” said Eight Rules. “Let’s go finish our business quickly.” Though Pilgrim was saddened by what he saw, he also thought of the dream of the Tang Monk, when he was told that the well could be found only beneath a plantain tree. As they walked along, they saw indeed such a tree, whose luxuriant growth was quite different from the other plants. Truly she is

    
A fine, spiritual root of a kind,

    
Her empty self’s
⁶
Heaven-endowed.

    
Every branch is thin like paper;

    
Every leaf can fold like a petal;

    
A thousand fine strands of green

    
Enclose one cinnabar heart within.

    
She grieves when saddened by night rain

    
And droops for fear of autumn’s wind.

    
She grows in the primal strength of Heav’n;

    
Her nurture’s the work of Creation.

    
A parchment forms her wondrous usage;

    
As a fan she makes rare merit.

    
How could phoenix plumes approximate her?

    
Could e’en phoenix tails resemble her?

    
Bathed in droplets of light dew,

    
Swathed in slender wisps of smoke,

    
Her green shade shrouds windows and doors;

    
Her
green shadow mounts curtains and screens.

    
Wild geese aren’t allowed to perch here,

    
Nor may horses be tied to her.

    
A frigid sky will make her dejected,

    
A moonlit night her colors faint.

    
She can only dispel high heat

    
And protects from the scorching sun.

    
Bashful for lacking the peach and pear’s charm,

    
She stands alone east of the white wall.

“Eight Rules,” said Pilgrim, “let’s get started. The treasure’s buried beneath the plantain tree.” Idiot lifted his rake with both hands and toppled the plantain tree, after which he used his snout to burrow into the ground. After digging up some three or four feet of dirt, he discovered a slab of stone. Delighted, Idiot said, “Elder Brother, we’re lucky! There’s indeed a treasure here, covered by a slab of stone. I wonder if it’s contained in a jar or a box.”

“Lift the stone up and take a look,” said Pilgrim.

Idiot indeed used his snout to give the slab of stone a shove; immediately, glimmering shafts of light shot up. Laughing, Eight Rules said, “Lucky! Lucky! The treasure’s glowing.” He went forward to take another careful look and saw that it was actually the glow of the stars and moon reflected in the water of a well. “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “when you want to do something, you ought to get to the bottom of it.” “How so?” asked Pilgrim. Eight Rules said, “This is a well. If you had told me in the monastery that the treasure would be found in a well, I would have brought along those two ropes we use to tie our bags. Then we would have been able to find a way to lower old Hog down there. Now we’re empty-handed. How could we go down there to fetch the thing up here?” “You want to go down there?” asked Pilgrim. “Of course,” said Eight Rules, “but we have no ropes.” “Take off your clothes,” said Pilgrim, “and I’ll give you the means.” Eight Rules said, “I don’t have any good clothes! All I have to do is untie this shirt.”

Dear Great Sage! He took out his golden-hooped rod and gave both its ends a pull, crying, “Grow!” It grew to about seventy or eighty feet long. “Eight Rules,” he said, “you grab hold of one end, and I’ll let you down the well.” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “you can do that, but when we reach the surface of the water, you stop.” “I know,” said Pilgrim. Idiot then wrapped himself around the rod at one end, and with no effort at all Pilgrim picked him up and lowered him into the well. In a little while, they reached the edge of the water and Eight Rules said, “We’re touching water.” When Pilgrim heard that, he gave the rod a plunge downward and with a loud splash Idiot fell into the water headfirst. Abandoning the iron rod, he
began
at once to tread water, muttering to himself, “Damn him! I told him to stop when we reached water, but he gave me a plunge instead.” Pilgrim retrieved his rod and said, laughing, “Brother, is there any treasure?”

“What treasure?” said Eight Rules, “only a well of water!”

Pilgrim said, “The treasure has sunk deep into the water. Why don’t you go below and feel around?” Idiot indeed knew well the nature of water; he ducked his head under the surface and dove straight down. Ah, the well was extremely deep! He plunged hard a second time before opening his eyes to look around, and he saw all at once a towered edifice, on which were written the three words, “Water Crystal Palace.” Highly shaken, Eight Rules said, “Undone! Undone! I got on the wrong way. I must have fallen into the ocean, for only the ocean has a Water Crystal Palace. How could there be one in a well?” Eight Rules, you see, did not know that this happened to be the palace of the Well Dragon King.

As Eight Rules was speaking to himself, a yak
ṣ
a on patrol opened the gate of the palace. When he saw what he saw, he ran inside to report, saying, “Great King, disaster! From the well above fell a monk with a long snout and huge ears, stark naked and without a stitch of clothing. He isn’t dead yet, and he is talking.” When the Well Dragon King heard this, he was greatly startled. “This must be the Marshal of Heavenly Reeds. Last night the Night Patrol God came here by imperial decree from above to take the soul of the king of the Black Rooster Kingdom to see the Tang Monk. They were to ask the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, to subdue a fiend. This has to be the Great Sage and the Marshal of Heavenly Reeds. We should not treat them rudely. Hurry, we must welcome them.”

Straightening out his clothes, the dragon king led his water kinsmen out the door and cried in a loud voice, “Marshal of Heavenly Reeds, please take a seat inside.” Eight Rules became very pleased and said to himself, “So there’s a friend here!” Without regard for etiquette or decency, Idiot walked right into the Water Crystal Palace and, still stark naked, took the honored seat above. “Marshal,” said the dragon king, “I heard recently that your life was spared when you embraced the Buddhist faith to accompany the Tang Monk to acquire scriptures in the Western Heaven. For what reason have you come here?” “I was just about to tell you that,” said Eight Rules. “My elder brother, Sun Wukong, wanted to send you his most earnest greetings. He told me to come to ask you for a certain treasure.”

“That’s pitiful!” said the dragon king. “Where do I have any treasure around here? I’m not like those other dragon kings of such big rivers as the Yangzi, the Yellow River, the Huai, and the Ji. When they can fly and soar through the air most of the time to transform, they will have treasures. I have been stuck here for a long time; I can’t even get to see the sun and the moon regularly. Where would I get any treasures?” “Don’t refuse me,”
said
Eight Rules. “If you have any, bring them out.” “I do have just one treasure,” said the dragon king, “but I can’t bring it out. The Marshal himself will have to go and take a look. How about it?” “Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!” said Eight Rules. “I’ll go and take a look.”

The dragon king walked in front, while Idiot followed. They passed the Water Crystal Palace and came upon a long corridor, inside of which they found a six-foot corpse. Pointing with his finger, the dragon king said, “Marshal, that’s the treasure.” Eight Rules went forward to look at it. Ah, it was actually a dead king; still wearing a rising-to-Heaven cap, a reddish brown robe, a pair of carefree boots, and a jade belt, he lay there stiff as a board. “Hard! Hard! Hard!” said Eight Rules, chuckling. “This can’t be considered a treasure! When I recall the time when old Hog was a monster in the mountain, this thing was frequently used as food. Don’t ask me how many such things I have seen—even as far as eating was concerned, I have consumed countless numbers. How could you call this a treasure?”

“So you don’t know, Marshal,” said the dragon king, “that he is actually the corpse of the king of the Black Rooster Kingdom. Since he reached the well, I have embalmed him with a feature-preserving pearl so that he won’t deteriorate. If you are willing to carry him out of here on your back to see the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, who, by the way, may have the wish to revive him, don’t speak of treasures—you can have anything you want.” “In that case,” said Eight Rules, “I’ll carry him out on my back for you. But how much cartage are you going to pay me?” The dragon king said, “I don’t have any money.” “You want to use people free!” said Eight Rules. “If you really don’t have any money, I won’t carry him.” “If you don’t,” said the dragon king, “please go.” Eight Rules left at once. The dragon king, however, ordered two powerful yak
ṣ
as to haul the corpse out of the Water Crystal Palace’s gate. They threw him down, took off the water-repelling pearl, and water began to close in on all sides noisily.

Turning around quickly to look, Eight Rules could no longer see the gate of the Water Crystal Palace. When he stretched out his hands, all he could lay hold of was the corpse of the king, the touch of which made his legs weaken and his tendons turn numb with fear. He darted up to the surface of the water; with his hands clinging to the wall of the well, he shouted, “Elder Brother, stick your rod down here to save me!” “Is there any treasure?” asked Pilgrim. Eight Rules said, “There isn’t any! Beneath the water, however, there’s a Well Dragon King, who told me to carry a dead man on my back. I wouldn’t do it, and he sent me out the door; that was when his Water Crystal Palace disappeared also. When I felt that corpse, I was so scared that my hands grew weak and my tendons turned numb; I could hardly move. Elder Brother, for good or ill please save me.”

“That’s precisely the treasure,” said Pilgrim. “Why won’t you carry him
up
here?” Eight Rules said, “He must have been dead for quite awhile. Why should I carry him on my back?” “If you won’t,” said Pilgrim, “I’ll go back.”

“Where?” asked Eight Rules.

“I’m going back to the monastery,” said Pilgrim, “to get some sleep with Master.” “You mean I can’t go with you?” said Eight Rules.

Pilgrim said, “If you can climb up here, I’ll take you back with me; if you can’t, well that’s it!” Eight Rules was horrified, for how could he possibly climb up the well. “Take a look,” he yelled. “Even the city wall was hard to scale already, whereas this well is large down below with a small mouth on top. All around the circular wall is straight up and down. Moreover, it has been such a long time since anyone has bailed water from this well that it’s covered with moss everywhere. It’s terribly slippery. How could I possibly climb it? Elder Brother, let’s not upset our fraternal feelings, let me go and carry him up on my back.” “Exactly,” said Pilgrim. “Do it quickly, and I’ll go back with you to sleep.”

Idiot put his head underwater again and dove straight down; after he found the corpse, he pulled it onto his back and shot back up to the surface. Supporting himself on the wall of the well, he cried, “Elder Brother, I’m carrying him.” Pilgrim stared into the well and saw that the body was indeed placed on Eight Rules’s back. Only then did he lower the golden-hooped rod into the well. A man who had been sorely tried, Idiot opened his mouth and held on to the tip of the iron rod with his teeth; he was then lifted up out of the well by Pilgrim with no effort at all.

Putting down the corpse, Eight Rules grabbed his own clothes and put them on. When Pilgrim took a look, he found that the features of the dead king had not altered in the slightest—it was as if he were still alive. “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “this man has been dead for three years. How could his features not deteriorate?” “You have no idea about this,” said Eight Rules. “This Well Dragon said to me that he had embalmed the corpse with a feature-preserving pearl, and that’s why it has not deteriorated.” “Lucky! Lucky!” said Pilgrim. “This has to mean that his wrong has yet to be requited, and that we are fated to succeed. Brother, put him on your back again quickly and we’ll leave.”

“Where do you want me to carry him?” asked Eight Rules.

“To see Master,” said Pilgrim.

Eight Rules began to grumble, saying, “How am I going to live with this? I was sleeping nicely when this monkey fooled me with his clever talk into doing this so-called business with him. It turns out to be this sort of enterprise—carrying a dead man on my back! When I carry him, some putrid stinking fluid is bound to drip on me and soil my clothes, and there is no one ready to wash and starch them for me. The few patches on my garment may even turn damp again when the sky is grey. How can I wear them?”

“Look,
you just carry him,” said Pilgrim, “and when we get to the monastery, I’ll exchange clothes with you.” “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” asked Eight Rules. “You have hardly anything to wear, and you are going to exchange clothes with me?” Pilgrim said, “Oh, you are so smart mouthed! You aren’t going to carry him?” “No!” said Eight Rules. “Stick out your shanks then,” said Pilgrim, “and I’ll give you twenty strokes of my rod!” Horrified, Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother, that’s a heavy rod! If you give me twenty strokes, I’d be like this king!” “If you are afraid of being beaten,” said Pilgrim, “then hurry up and put him on your back so that we can leave.” Eight Rules was indeed afraid of being beaten; rather listlessly, he yanked the corpse over and put it on his back before turning to walk out of the garden.