The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (46 page)

Dear Great Sage! Making the magic sign with his fingers, he recited a spell and sucked in a mouthful of air facing the ground in the southwest. When he blew it out, a violent gust immediately arose and lifted Eight Rules out of the palace. They left the city instantly; as the wind subsided, the two of them dropped to the ground and proceeded slowly on foot. Nursing his rage in silence, Idiot planned to repay Pilgrim in kind, saying to himself, “This monkey has pulled a nice prank on me, but when I get to the monastery I’m going to pull one on him, too. I’m going to persuade Master to insist on restoring the king back to life. If that monkey can’t do it, I’ll make Master recite that Tight-Fillet Spell until this monkey’s brains burst. That will give me some relief!” He walked along and thought further to himself, “No good, no good! If you make him heal the man, all he has to do is to go and ask King Yama for the soul, and the man will live again. I must set the conditions so that he won’t be permitted to go to the Region of Darkness; the king has to be restored to life through some means found in the World of Light. Only such a plan is good.”

Hardly had he finished speaking to himself when they reached the gate of the monastery. Eight Rules walked right through it and went up to the door of the Chan hall, where he threw down the corpse and cried, “Master, get up and look at this.” Unable to sleep, Tripitaka was just chatting with Sha Monk on how Pilgrim had deceived Eight Rules into going with him, and how they did not return after such a long time. When he heard the call, the Tang Monk quickly arose and said, “Disciple, what do you want me to look at?”

“The grandpa of Pilgrim,” said Eight Rules, “whom old Hog has brought back on his back.” “You pie-eyed Idiot!” said Pilgrim. “Where do I have a grandpa?” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “if he isn’t your grandpa, why did you ask old Hog to bear him here? You don’t know how much energy I’ve wasted!”

The Tang Monk and Sha Monk opened the door to look, and they discovered that the countenance of the king had not altered at all. Turning sad
all
at once, the elder said, “Your Majesty, in which previous existence did you incur an enemy who had to catch up with you in this one and cause you to lose your life? Alas, you left your wife and your child, unknown to all the civil and military officials! Pity your wife who’s still in the dark! Who will burn incense or pour tea for you?” He was so broken up that he could not speak anymore as tears rained down his cheeks.

“Master,” said Eight Rules, laughing, “what does his death have to do with you? He isn’t one of your ancestors. Why weep for him?” “O disciple!” said the Tang Monk, “the fundamental principle of life for those who have left the family is compassion. How could you be so hardhearted?” “I’m not hardhearted,” said Eight Rules, “for Elder Brother told me that he could restore him to life. If he couldn’t, I wouldn’t have carried him back here.” This elder, after all, had a head full of water! Shaken by these few words of Idiot, he said at once, “Wukong, if you indeed have the ability to restore this king to life, you would have accomplished something greater than building a seven-storied stūpa. And even we would have been benefited as if we had worshipped Buddha in the Spirit Mountain.”

Pilgrim said, “Master, how could you believe the nonsense of this Idiot! When a man dies, he can pass through the periods of three times seven or five times seven; at most, he may wait for seven hundred days, when after having suffered for all the sins committed in the World of Light, he will then proceed to the next incarnation. This man here died three years ago. How could I revive him?” When Tripitaka heard these words, he said, “Oh, all right!”

Still bitterly resentful, however, Eight Rules said, “Master, don’t believe him. He’s a little sick in his brain! Just recite that little something of yours, and you are certain to get a living man.” The Tang Monk indeed began to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell, and the monkey had such a headache that his eyes bulged. We do not know how he managed to heal the dead king; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.

THIRTY-
NINE

One pellet of cinnabar elixir found in Heaven;

A king, dead three years, lives again on Earth.

We were telling you about the Great Sage Sun, who could hardly bear his headache. “Master,” he pleaded pitifully, “stop reciting! Stop reciting! Let me try to heal him.” “How?” asked the elder. Pilgrim said, “All I need to do is to go to the Region of Darkness and find out in which of the Ten Kings’ chambers his soul is residing. I’ll fetch it and he’ll be saved.” “Master, don’t believe him,” said Eight Rules. “He told me originally that he needn’t go to the Region of Darkness, that his real ability could not be seen unless a cure was found in the World of Light.” Believing in such perverse tattle, the elder began to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell once more. Pilgrim was so horrified that he had to say repeatedly, “I’ll find some means in the World of Light! I’ll find some means in the World of Light!” “Don’t stop,” said Eight Rules, “just keep reciting!” “You idiotic cursed beast!” chided Pilgrim. “You are just trying to coax Master into putting that spell on me!” Laughing until he nearly collapsed, Eight Rules said, “O Elder Brother! You only know how to pull tricks on me, but you don’t realize that I can do the same on you.” “Master, please stop,” said Pilgrim, “and let old Monkey find a cure in the World of Light for the king.” “Where would you find it in the World of Light?” asked Tripitaka. “With a single cloud somersault,” said Pilgrim, “I shall penetrate the South Heaven Gate, but I’ll not go into the Big Dipper Palace nor into the Divine Mists Hall. Instead, I shall go straight up to the Thirty-third Heaven, to the Tushita Palace of the Griefless Heaven. When I see Laozi there, I shall beg him for one pellet of his Soul-Restoring Elixir of Nine Reversions, which will certainly make this man live again.”

When Tripitaka heard these words, he was very pleased and said, “Go quickly and come back.” “It’s about the hour of the third watch at this moment,” said Pilgrim, “but by the time I get back, it’ll be dawn. The trouble with this man sleeping here like this is that the whole atmosphere seems so dull and heartless. Someone here should mourn him and that’ll be more like it.” “It goes without saying,” said Eight Rules, “that this monkey would like me to mourn the king.” “Yes, but I’m afraid that you won’t,” said Pilgrim. “If you won’t, I can’t heal him either!” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “you may go. I’ll mourn him.” Pilgrim said, “There are several ways of mourning: when you merely open your mouth to make noises, that’s called howling; when you squeeze out some tears, that’s weeping. When you mourn with both tears and feelings, then we may call that wailing.” “I’ll give
you
an example of how I can wail!” said Eight Rules, who pulled out a scrap of paper from somewhere and rolled it into a thin strip, which he stuck into his nostrils twice. Look at him! After sneezing a few times, tears and snivel all came out and he began to wail, mumbling and muttering protests all the time as if someone in his family had actually died. He bawled lustily, and when his passion rose to a terrific pitch, even the Tang elder was moved to tears. “That’s the sort of grief I want you to show,” said Pilgrim with a laugh, “and you are not permitted to stop. For if you, Idiot, think that you can quit mourning after I leave, you are mistaken, for I can still hear you. You’ll be all right if you keep this up, but the moment I discover that your voice has stopped, your shanks will be given twenty strokes.” “You go!” said Eight Rules, chuckling. “Once I start to mourn, it will take me a couple of days to finish.” When Sha Monk heard how stern Pilgrim’s reprimand of Eight Rules was, he went and lit a few sticks of incense to bring to offer to the dead king. “Fine! Fine! Fine!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “When the whole family shows reverence like that, old Monkey can then exert his efforts.”

Dear Great Sage! At this hour of midnight, he took leave of master and disciples, the three of them; mounting the cloud somersault, he entered at once the South Heaven Gate. Indeed, he did not go before the Treasure Hall of Divine Mists, nor did he ascend to the Big Dipper Palace. Treading on his cloudy luminosity, he went straight to the Griefless Heaven, the Tushita Palace of the Thirty-third Heaven. The moment he walked inside the door, he discovered Laozi sitting in the elixir chamber: in the process of making elixir, he and a few divine youths were tending the fires with plantain fans. When he saw Pilgrim approaching, he immediately instructed the youths with these words: “Take care, each of you. The thief who once stole our elixir is here.” Bowing to him, Pilgrim said with laughter, “Venerable Sir, don’t be so silly! Why take such precaution against me? I don’t do those things anymore!” “Monkey,” said Laozi, “when you caused great disruption in Heaven five hundred years ago, you stole and consumed countless efficacious elixirs of mine. And when we sent the Little Sage Erlang to arrest you and bring you to the Region Above, you were sent to be refined in my elixir brazier for forty-nine days and made me squander who knows how much charcoal. You were lucky to have regained your freedom when you embraced the Buddhist fruit and resolved to accompany the Tang Monk to the Western Heaven to acquire scriptures. But even then, you were still giving me a hard time when I asked you for my treasures after you had subdued the demons some time ago on the Level-Top Mountain. What are you doing here today?” “I didn’t give you a hard time,” said Pilgrim. “Old Monkey at the time gave you back your five treasures without delay. Why are you still so suspicious?” “Why aren’t you on the road then?” asked Laozi. “Why did you sneak into my palace?”

Pilgrim
said, “After we parted, we proceeded toward the West until we came to the Black Rooster Kingdom. The king there had been murdered by a monster-spirit masquerading as a Daoist able to summon wind and rain. The monster then changed himself into the form of the king, and now he sits in the Hall of Golden Chimes. When my master read the sūtras during the night before last in the Precious Grove Monastery, the king’s spirit appeared to him and requested earnestly for old Monkey to subdue the fiend for him. Because old Monkey considered the problem of evidence, he went to the imperial garden with Eight Rules to look for the burial site. Within a well of octagonal marble walls, we fished out the king’s corpse, so perfectly preserved that neither his color nor his appearance had changed. When we brought him back to my master, he was moved by compassion and wanted me to revive him. The condition was set, however, that I could not go to the Region of Darkness to fetch his soul, and that I must find some means to revive him in the World of Light. I concluded that there was no other remedy available, and that was why I came especially to see you. I beseech the Patriarch of Tao to be merciful and lend me one thousand tablets of your Soul-Restoring Elixir of Nine Reversions, so that old Monkey can save the king.”

“This ape is babbling!” said Laozi. “What are you saying—one thousand tablets, two thousand tablets! You eat them like rice? You think they are kneaded with mud? That easy? No! Go quickly! I have none!” “All right,” said Pilgrim, chuckling, “how about a hundred tablets?” “I don’t have any,” said Laozi. “Just ten tablets, then,” said Pilgrim. “This wretched ape is an absolute pest!” said Laozi angrily. “I don’t have any. Get out! Get out!” “You really don’t have any?” said Pilgrim, laughing. “I’ll go somewhere to look for help then.” “Go! Go! Go!” shouted Laozi. Turning around, the Great Sage strode out at once.

Laozi suddenly thought to himself, “This monkey is such a rogue! When I told him to go, he left, but I fear that he might sneak back in and start stealing.” He ordered a divine youth to call Pilgrim back at once, saying, “You ape, you have itchy hands and feet! I’ll give you one tablet of my Soul-Restoring Elixir.” “Venerable Sir,” said Pilgrim, “if you know the talent of old Monkey, you will bring out your golden elixir at once and divide up what you have with me equitably. That’ll be your good fortune! Otherwise, I’m going to swipe them clean for you.” Taking out his gourd, the patriarch turned it upside down and poured out one pellet of golden elixir. He handed it over to Pilgrim, saying, “That’s all I have. Take it, take it! I’m
giving
it to you, you know, and when that king is revived, it’ll be counted as your merit.” Pilgrim took it and said, “Let’s not hurry! I’m going to have a taste of it first, for I’m not going to be duped by some bogus pill!” He popped it into his mouth at once. The old patriarch was so startled that he dashed
forward
and grabbed the skin on Pilgrim’s head. Holding high his fist, he shouted, “You wretched ape! If you dare swallow it, I’ll kill you!” “Shame on you!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “Don’t be so petty! Who’s going to eat your stuff! How much could it be worth, this flimsy stuff? Isn’t it right here?” The monkey, you see, had a little pouch just beneath his jowl, and that was where he kept the golden elixir. After the patriarch had felt it with his fingers, he said, “Go away! Don’t bother me here anymore!” Then the Great Sage thanked the old patriarch and left the Tushita Heaven Palace. Look at him!

    
In countless hallowed beams he left the arches of jade;

    
On myriad auspicious clouds he went to the world of dust.

In a moment, he left the South Heaven Gate behind and, as the sun came up, he dropped from the clouds and arrived at the gate of the Precious Grove Monastery.

Eight Rules’s weeping could still be heard when he approached, crying, “Master.” “Wukong has returned,” said Tripitaka, delighted. “Do you have any elixir or medicine?” “I do,” said Pilgrim. “He couldn’t possibly not have it!” said Eight Rules. “He would have brought back something even if he had to steal it!” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, chuckling, “you can get out of the way, I don’t need you anymore. Wipe away your tears, or you can go somewhere to weep. Sha Monk, please fetch me some water.”