Wu Cheng-en - Journey to the West (vol. 2)

“Very well,” said Pig, and they went up to the farm to look at it. It was a fine sight:

Wild flowers on the paths,

Trees shading the doorways.

A mountain stream fell down a distant cliff;

Wheat and mallows grew in the fields.

The reeds moistened by dew were beds for the gulls;

Poplars in the wind were perches for weary birds.

Among blue cypress the pine's green was a rival;

Red rush competed with knotweed in fragrance.

Village dogs barked,

The cocks crowed at dusk,

Well-fed cattle and sheep were led back by boys.

Under clouds of smoke from the stoves the millet was cooked;

Now it was evening in the hill farm.

As the venerable elder went closer an old man came out through the gateway of the farm, noticed Sanzang, and greeted him. “Where have you come from, monk?” he asked, to which Sanzang replied, “I have been sent from the Great Tang in the East to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven. As I am passing this way and it is getting late I have come to beg a night's lodging from you, benefactor.”

“It is a very long way indeed from your distinguished country to here,” the old man replied with a smile, “so how did you manage to cross so many rivers and climb so many mountains to get here by yourself?”

“I have three disciples who have come with me,” Sanzang said. “Where are they?” the old man asked. “There they are, standing by the road,” said Sanzang.

The old man looked up and was so appalled by their hideous faces that on the instant he turned to run back inside, only to be held back by Sanzang, who said, “Benefactor, I beg you in your mercy to let us spend the night here.”

The old man was shivering, barely able to open his mouth, shaking his head and waving his arms around as he said, “Th…th… th…they're not human. They're e…e…evil spirits.”

“Don't be afraid, benefactor,” said Sanzang, putting on a smile. “They just grew ugly. They're not evil spirits.”

“But my lord,” said the old man, “one's raksha demon, one's a horse-faced devil, and one's a thunder god.”

When Monkey heard this last remark he shouted at the top of his voice, “The thunder gods are my grandsons, the rakshas are my great-grandsons, and the horse-faced devils are my great-great-grandsons.”

This sent the old man's souls flying as he paled and wanted to go in. Sanzang held him up as they went into the thatched main room of the house, and said with a forced smile, “Don't be afraid of him. They are all rough like that. They don't know how to speak properly.”

As he was making his explanations a woman came out from the back holding a child of four or five by the hand. “What has given you such a fright, sir?” she asked.

“Bring some tea, wife,” he said, and the woman let go of the child's hand and fetched two cups of tea from the inside. When the tea had been drunk Sanzang stepped down from his seat to greet her and explain, “I have been sent by Great Tang in the East to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven. I had just arrived here and was asking for a night's lodging in your distinguished mansion when the sight of my three disciples' ugly faces gave the old gentleman rather a fright.”

“If the sight of ugly faces gives you such a scare how would you cope if you saw a tiger or a wolf?” the woman said.

“Their ugliness I could take, wife,” the old man replied. “What terrified me was the way they spoke. When I said they were like a raksha, a horse-faced devil and a thunder god one of them shouted that thunder gods were his grandsons, rakshas his great-grandsons, and horse-faced devils his great-great-grandsons. That was what really terrified me.”

“No need to be frightened,” said Sanzang, “no need. The one like a thunder god is my senior disciple Sun Wukong. The one like a horse-faced devil is my second disciple Zhu Wuneng, or Pig. And the one like a raksha is my third disciple Sha Wujing, or Friar Sand. Although they are ugly they are all faithful Buddhists who believe in the true achievement. They are not evil monsters or vicious demons. They are nothing to be afraid of.”

When the old man and his wife heard who Sanzang was and were told that the disciples were all devout Buddhists their nerves were finally somewhat calmed, and they told Sanzang to invite them in. The venerable elder went to the door to call them over, then told them, “The old gentleman was really appalled by the sight of you just now. When you go in to see him now you must all be on your best behavior and be very polite to him.”

“I'm handsome and cultured,” said Pig, “not rough and noisy like my brothers,”

“If it weren't for your long snout, big ears and ugly face you'd be a very good-looking man,” laughed Monkey.

“Stop quarrelling,” said Friar Sand. “This is hardly the place for a beauty contest. Get inside!”

With that they carried the luggage and led the horse in, entered the main room, made a respectful call of greeting, and sat down. The good and able wife took the child out and gave orders for rice to be cooked and a vegetarian meal prepared. When master and disciples had eaten it the night was drawing in, so a lamp was fetched and they sat talking in the main room. Only then did Sanzang ask his host's surname.

“Yang,” the old man replied, and on being asked his age said he was seventy-three.

“How many sons do you have?” Sanzang asked.

“Only one,” the old man replied. “It was my grandson that my wife brought in just now.”

“Won't you ask your son in? I would like to greet him,” said Sanzang.

“He's not worth your courtesy, the wretch,” the old man replied. “I was fated to raise a worthless son, and he isn't at home now.”

“Where does he make his living?” Sanzang asked.

The old man nodded and sighed as he replied, “It's sad story. I would be very happy if he were willing to make an honest living, but his mind is set on evil and he won't work at farming. All he wants to do is to rob houses, hold up travelers, burn and kill. His cronies are all worse than foxes and dogs. He went away five days ago and he hasn't come back.”

Sanzang did not dare to breathe a word when he heard this, but he thought, “Perhaps he was one of the ones Wukong killed.” Feeling very uneasy, he bowed as he sat there. “Oh dear,” he said, “oh dear. How could such good parents have so wicked a son?”

Monkey went up to the old man and said, “What do you want a rotten son like that for? He's a murderer and a rapist, and he'll get both of you into trouble too. Let me find him and kill him for you.”

“I wish I could be rid of him,” said the old man, “but if I did I have no other son. Evil though he is I'll need him to bury me.”

“Stop meddling in things that are none of your business, brother,” said Friar Sand and Pig. “We're not the government. What's it to us if his son's a bad lot? Benefactor, could you give us a bundle of straw to spread out and sleep on over there? We'll be on our way tomorrow morning.” The old man rose to his feet and sent Friar Sand to take two bundles of rice straw to the yard at the back, where they were to spend the night in a thatched shed. Monkey led the horse and Pig carried the luggage as they took their master to the shed and slept the night there, where we shall leave them.

Now old Mr. Yang's son was indeed one of the bandits who had fled for their lives after Monkey killed their two chiefs on the mountainside the previous morning. Late that night, in the small hours, a group of them gathered together again and knocked at the front gate. Hearing the noise the old man pulled some clothes over his shoulders and said, “Wife, those damned bandits are here.”

“Then open the gate and let them in,” she replied. Only then did he open up, and what he saw was a crowd of bandits shouting, “We're starving, we're staving.” Old Mr. Yang's son rushed in, and made his wife get up to cook some rice. As there was no firewood in the kitchen he went into the yard to fetch some.