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

“That's terrible,” said Sanzang to Brother Monkey. “The river's frozen.”

“In a sudden cold snap like this I think that only the shallow water near the bank can have frozen,” said old Mr. Chen. Then another passer-by said, “The whole 250 miles of it are frozen as smooth as a mirror, and some people are setting out across it from where the road ends.” Hearing that people were walking across, Sanzang wanted to go out and take a look. “Do not be in such a hurry, venerable sir,” said old Mr. Chen. “It's late now. Wait till morning.” He then said good-bye to the two elderly neighbors, and after supper the visitors slept in the side room once more.

Pig rose at dawn and said, “Brother, it was even colder last night. I think the river really must have frozen solid.” Sanzang went to the door, bowed low to Heaven, and prayed, “All you gods who protect the teachings, on my journey West I have faithfully worshipped the Buddha and crossed many a river and mountain with great suffering and never a word of complaint. I am deeply grateful for Heaven's help in bringing me this far, and I also give most humble thanks that the river has now frozen. When I bring the scriptures back I shall report all this to the Tang Emperor and reward you sincerely.” When he had finished his prayer he told Friar Sand to saddle the horse so that they could cross the river while it was frozen. “Please do not be in such a hurry,” said old Mr. Chen. “Stay here a few more days until the ice has melted and I shall arrange for a boat to carry you across.”

“I don't know whether we should go or stay,” said Friar Sand. “You can't rely on what people say, and you can only believe what you see with your own eyes. I'll saddle the horse and you can take a look for yourself.”

“A good suggestion,” said old Mr. Chen. “Servants,” he ordered, “saddle six of our horses, but not the Tang Priest's horse.”

Then with six young pages in attendance they went in line to the bank of the river to look. Indeed:

The snow is piled up like mountains,

When the clouds disappear the dawn is bright.

A thousand pinnacles soar above the ice-locked pass;

Frozen rivers and lakes are completely smooth.

The North wind chills to the bone,

The slippery ice is bitterly cold.

The fish stay by the plants in the pond,

The wild birds linger in the stubble.

Beyond the frontier fingers are lost to frostbite;

The boatman on the river breaks his teeth with shivering.

Snakes' stomachs split,

Birds' legs break:

The ice forms mountains thousands of feet high.

The flowing silver stops in ten thousand valleys;

Cold is the river's liquid jade.

The East produces frozen silkworms,

And mice make their holes in the Northern ice.

Wang Xiang lay on the ice to melt it

And caught a carp for his mother to eat.

When the Emperor Guangwu crossed the river

A bridge of ice formed overnight for him.

Many are the layers of ice on the pond,

And the deep pool is frozen solid.

There are no more waves on the mighty River of Heaven;

The gleaming ice stretches out as hard as a road.

When Sanzang and his party reached the bank of the river they reined in their horses to look and saw that there really were people setting out from where the road reached the bank. “Benefactor,” asked Sanzang, “where are those people going to across the ice?”

“On the other side of the river,” said old Mr. Chen, “is the Womanland of Western Liang. Those people are all traders. What costs a hundred cash on this side can be worth ten thousand over there and vice versa, and it's because such big profits can be made for such a small expenditure that people risk their lives to go there. Normally they form groups of five to a dozen or so and sail across, but now that the river has frozen over they are prepared to walk over at mortal peril.”

“Fame and profit are what make the world go round,” said Sanzang. “They are risking their lives for profit, and my disciples loyally obey orders for the sake of fame: there's not much to choose between them.” He then told Monkey to go back to their benefactors' house, pack the luggage, and bridle and saddle the horse so that they could head West while the ice held. Monkey agreed with a chuckle.

“Master,” said Friar Sand, “there's a saying that goes, 'For a thousand days you need a thousand pints of rice.' Now that we are staying at the Chen house why don't we wait here a few days longer till the skies have cleared and the ice melted then get a boat to take us across? Rushing like this will only lead to trouble.”

“Wujing,” Sanzang replied, “how can you be so stupid? If it were March and the weather were warming up every day we could wait for it to thaw. But now it is September and it is getting cooler very day, so it would be absurd to wait for the thaw. It would set our journey a long time back.”

“Stop all that idle chatter,” said Pig, jumping down from his horse. “I'm going to find out how thick the ice is.”

“You idiot,” said Monkey, “you could test the depth of the water the other evening by throwing a stone into it, but you could never do that now that the ice is so thick.”

“What you don't understand, brother,” said Pig, “is that I can hit it with my rake. If I smash through it, it's too thin for us to walk on; but if I don't move it at all that'll show it's thick enough for us to cross.”

“What you say is right,” observed Sanzang. The idiot hitched up his clothes, strode to the edge of the river, raised his rake with both hands, and brought it down with all his might. There was a hollow thump as nine white scars appeared on the ice. His hand had been painfully jarred.

“We can go,” said the idiot with a grin, “we can go. It's frozen solid right down to the bottom.”

The news delighted Sanzang, who took them all back to the Chen house and told them to prepare to travel. Seeing that repeated pleas were not going to make their visitors stay the two old men gave them some dry cooked grain, buns and steamed bread. The whole household kowtowed to the monks in respect then carried out a tray of silver and gold pieces and knelt before them. “We are so grateful to you gentlemen for saving the lives of our children that we would like to offer you this towards the cost of a meal on the journey.”

Sanzang shook his head and waved his hand as he refused to accept it. “I am a monk,” he said, “and what would I want with money? I would never be able to produce it on the journey. We have to beg for what we eat. The food you have given us will be plenty.” When the old men repeatedly implored them to accept it Monkey took just under half an ounce of it between his fingers that he handed to Sanzang with the words, “Master, accept this offering so as not to be ungrateful to the two old gentlemen.”

Only then did they take their leave. Once the horse's hoofs slipped on the ice at the edge of the river, so that Sanzang almost fell of.

“It's hard going, Master,” said Friar Sand.

“Wait,” said Pig. “Ask old Mr. Chen for some rice straw.”

“What for?” Brother Monkey asked.

“You wouldn't know,” said Pig. “If you wrap rice straw round the horse's hoofs it won't slip and the master won't fall off.” When old Mr. Chen heard this from the bank he at once sent someone back to fetch a bundle of rice straw from the house, then invited Sanzang to dismount while Pig wrapped the straw round the horse's hoofs, after which they set out across the ice.

When they had taken their leave of the old Chen brothers and gone a mile or so from the bank Pig handed the nine-ringed monastic staff to Sanzang.

“Master,” he said, “hold this staff sticking out sideways as you ride.”