Wu Cheng-en - Journey to the West (vol. 1)

The lay brother climbed into the cooking-stove and kept saying, “Sir, sir, that cudgel's too heavy, I'm no match for you. I beg you, I beg you.”

“I won't hit you, monk,” said Monkey. “I've just got a question for you: how many monks are there in the monastery?”

“We have two hundred and eighty-five cells all told,” replied the abbot, shaking with fear, “and five hundred monks holding official ordination licenses.”

“I want you to draw those five hundred monks up on parade,” said Monkey, “get them dressed in long habits, and receive my master. Then I won't hit you.”

“If you won't hit me, sir,” said the abbot, “I'd gladly carry him in.”

“Hurry up then,” said Monkey.

“I don't care if the fright breaks your gallbladder, or even if it breaks your heart,” said the abbot to the lay brother. “Go out and tell them all to come here and welcome His Grace the Tang Priest.”

The lay brother had no choice but to take his life in his hands. Not daring to go through the front door, he squirmed out through a gap in the back wall and went straight to the main hall, where he struck the drum that was to the East and the bell that was to the West. The sound of the two together startled all the monks young and old in the dormitories on both sides.

They came to the main hall and asked, “Why are the drum and bell sounding now? It's too early.”

“Go and change at once,” said the lay brother, “then get yourselves into your groups under the senior monk and go outside the main gates to welcome His Grace from the land of Tang.” All the monks then went out through the gates in a most orderly procession to greet him. Some wore full cassocks, and some tunics; those who had neither wore a kind of sleeveless smock, and the poorest of all who had no proper garment draped the two ends of their loin-cloths over their shoulders.

“Monks, what's that you're wearing?” demanded Monkey.

“Sir, don't hit us,” they said, seeing his ugly and evil face, “let us explain. This is cloth we beg for in town. We don't have any tailors here, so these are paupers' wrappers we make ourselves.”

Monkey laughed inside at this, then escorted them all out through the gates to kneel down. The abbot kowtowed and called out, “Your Grace of Tang, please take a seat in my lodgings.”

Seeing all this, Pig said, “Master, you're completely useless. When you went in you were all tears and pouting so much you could have hung a bottle from your lips. How come that only Monkey knows tow to make them welcome us with kowtows?”

“Ill-mannered idiot,” said Sanzang. “As the saying goes, even a devil's afraid of an ugly mug.” Sanzang was most uncomfortable at the sight of them all kowtowing and bowing, so he stepped forward and invited them all to rise. They all kowtowed again and said, “Your Grace, if you would ask your disciple to show some mercy and not hit us with that caber we'll gladly kneel here for a month.”

“You must not hit them, Wukong,” said the Tang Priest.

“I haven't hit them,” said Monkey. “If I had, I'd have wiped the lot of them out.” Only then did all the monks rise to their feet. Leading the horse, shouldering the shoulder-poles with the luggage, carrying the Tang Priest, giving Pig a piggyback, and supporting Friar Sand they all went in through the main gates to the abbot's lodgings at the back, where they took their seats in due order.

The monks all started kowtowing again. “Please rise, lord abbot,” Sanzang said. “There is no need for any more kowtows, which are oppressive for a poor monk like me. We are both followers of the Buddhist faith.”

“Your Grace is an Imperial Commissioner,” the abbot replied, “and I failed to greet you properly. You came to our wretched monastery, but when I met you my mortal eyes did not recognize your illustrious status. May I venture to ask, Your Grace, whether you are eating a vegetarian or a meat diet on your journey? We would like to prepare a meal.”

“Vegetarian food,” replied Sanzang.

“And I imagine that these reverend gentlemen,” said the abbot, “like to eat meat.”

“No,” said Monkey. “We are vegetarians, and have been all our lives.”

“Good Heavens,” exclaimed the abbot, “can even creatures like these be vegetarians?”

Then a very bold monk came forward to ask, “Sirs, as you eat vegetarian food, how much rice should we cook for you?”

“Mean little monks,” said Pig, “why ask? Cook us a bushel.” The monks then moved as fast as they could to clean the stoves and the cauldrons and serve food and tea in all the cells. The lamps were hung high and tables and chairs brought to entertain the Tan Priest.

When master and disciples had eaten their supper the monks cleared the things away. Sanzang thanked the abbot: “Lord abbot, we have put your illustrious monastery to great trouble.”

“No, no,” the abbot protested, “we have entertained you very poorly.”

“May my disciples and I spend the night here?” Sanzang asked.

“Don't worry, Your Grace,” the abbot replied, “we will arrange things.” Then he called out, “Are there any lay brothers on duty over there?”

“Yes, reverend sir,” a lay brother replied.

“Then send a couple of them to see to the fodder for His Grace's horse,” the abbot instructed, “and have some sweep out and clean up the front meditation hall. Put beds in there for these venerable gentlemen to sleep in.” The lay brothers did as they had been told and arranged everything, then invited the Tang Priest to go to bed. Master and disciples led the horse and carried their baggage out of the abbot's quarters to the meditation hall. Looking in through the doors they saw the lamp burning brightly and four rattan beds set up at the ends of the room. Monkey told the lay brother who was looking after the fodder to carry it inside, lay it in the meditation hall, and tie up the white horse; the lay brothers were then all dismissed. Sanzang sat in the middle, right under the lamp, while the five hundred monks stood in their two divisions waiting upon him, not daring to leave.

“You may now leave, gentlemen,” said Sanzang, bowing to them from his chair, “as we would like to go to sleep.” But the monks dared not withdraw.

The abbot stepped forward and said to them, “Help Their Graces to bed, then leave.”

“You have done that already,” said Sanzang, “so you may all now go.” Only then did they disperse.

On going outside to relieve himself the Tang Priest saw the moon shining in the sky. He called his disciples, Monkey, Pig and Friar Sand, who came out to stand in attendance. He was moved by the brightness and purity of the moon as it shone from high in the jade firmament, making all in heaven and on earth clearly visible. He recited a long poem in the ancient style in the moonlight with a nostalgic feeling. It went:

A white soul hangs, a mirror in the sky,

Reflected whole in the mountain stream.

Pure light fills the towers of jade,

Cool air swirls round the silver bowls.

The same pure light shines on a thousand miles;

This is the clearest night of the year.

It rises from the sea like a frosty disk,

Hang in the heavens as a wheel of ice.

Sad the lonely traveler by the inn's cold window;

The old man goes to sleep in the village pub.

In the Han garden one is shocked by graying hair;

In the Qin tower the lady prepares herself for bed.

Yu Liang's lines on the moon are recorded by history;

Yuan Hong lay sleepless under the moon in a river boat.

The light that floats in the cup is cold and weak;

The purity shining in the court is strong and full of magic.

At every window are chanted poems to the snow,