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

And a light jacket of gray shot with red.

Her curved shoes were shaped like phoenix beaks,

And her silk stockings were marked with mud.

This witch was as lovely as the woman on Tiantai,

No less a beauty than the Zhou king's concubine.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Apricot Fairy?” the old man asked as they bowed to her.

Returning their bows she replied, “I hear that you have a distinguished guest here and are exchanging poems with him. May I meet him?”

“Here he is,” said the Eighteenth Lord, pointing him out. “You don't need to ask.” Sanzang bowed to her but dared say nothing.

“Bring in the tea at once,” she said. Two more serving girls in yellow, carried in a red lacquer tray on which were six fine porcelain tea-bowls with rare fruits in them and spoons lying across the top, as well as a copper-inlaid iron teapot in which was hot and fragrant tea. When the tea had been poured the woman showed glimpses of finger as delicate as spring onion shoots as she presented the porcelain bowls of it first to Sanzang and then to the four ancients. The last cup she kept for herself.

Only when Master Emptiness invited the Apricot Fairy to sit down did she do so. After they had drunk the tea she leant forward and said, “As you ancient immortals have been having so delightful an evening could you tell me some of the choicest lines you've composed?”

“Our stuff was just vulgar rubbish,” Cloud-toucher replied. “But this holy monk's verses were truly superb examples of high Tang poetry.”

“Please let me hear them if you will,” the fairy said, whereupon the four ancients recited Sanzang's two poems and his exposition of the Dhyana dharma. The woman, whose face was all smiles, then said, “I'm completely untalented and shouldn't really be making a fool of myself like this, but hearing this wonderful lines is an opportunity too good to waste. Could I cobble together a verse in the second rhyme pattern?” She then recited these lines:

The Han Emperor Wu first made my name;

In Zhou times Confucius taught under my shade.

Dong Feng loved me so much he planted a wood of me;

Sun Chu once offered my jelly in sacrifice.

Soft is my pink and rain-fed beauty;

The misty green is shown and yet concealed.

When over-ripe I have a touch of sourness;

Each year I fall beside the fields of wheat.”

When the four ancients heard the poem they were all full of admiration for it. “How elegant it is,” they said, “and how free of worldly dust. At the same time the lines have something of the awakening of spring in them. 'Soft is my pink and rain-fed beauty.' That's good. 'Soft is my pink and rain-fed beauty.'”

“You're too kind-it quite alarms me,” she replied. “The holy monk's lines that I heard just now were like brocade from the heart or embroidery in words. Could you be generous with your pearls and teach me one of those verses?” The Tang Priest dared not reply.

The woman was evidently falling for him and moving closer and closer, pressing herself against him and whispering to him, “Noble guest, let's make the most of this wonderful night for love. What are we waiting for? Life is short.”

“The Apricot Fairy admires you completely, holy monk,” said the Eighteenth Lord. “You must feel something for her. If you don't find her adorable you have very poor taste.”

“The holy monk is a famous gentleman who has found the Way,” said the Lone Upright Lord, “and he wouldn't possibly act in a way that was at all improper. It would be quite wrong of us to do things like that. To ruin his reputation and honour would be a very mean thing to do. If the Apricot Fairy is willing Cloud-toucher and the Eighteenth Lord can act as matchmakers while Master Emptiness and I act as the guarantors of the wedding. It would be excellent if they married.”

Hearing this Sanzang turned pale with horror, jumped to his feet and shouted at the top of his voice, “You're all monsters, trying to lead me astray like that. There was nothing wrong with talking about the mysteries of the Way with well-honed arguments, but it's disgraceful of you to try to ruin a monk like me by using a woman as a bait.” Seeing how angry Sanzang was they all bit their fingers in fear and said nothing more.

But the red devil servant exploded with thunderous fury, “You don't know how honoured you're being, monk. What's wrong with my sister? She's beautiful and charming. Her needlework aside, her gift for poetry alone would make her more than a match for you. What do you mean, trying to turn her down? You're making a terrible mistake. The Lone Upright Lord's idea was quite right. If you're not prepared to sleep with her on the quiet I'll marry the two of you properly.”

Sanzang went paler still with shock. None of their arguments, however outrageous, had the slightest impact on him. “We've been talking to you very nicely, monk,” the devil servant said, “but you don't pay the slightest attention. If we lose our tempers and start our rough, country way of doing things we'll drag you off and see to it that you can never be a monk any longer or ever marry a wife. After that your life will be pointless.”

The venerable elder's heart remained as hard as metal or stone and he obdurately refused to do as they asked, wondering all the time where his disciples were looking for him. At the thought his tears flowed unquenchably. Smiling and sitting down next to him the woman produced a silk handkerchief from her emerald sleeve with which she wiped away his tears.

“Don't be so upset, noble guest,” She said. “You and I are going to taste the pleasures of love.” Sanzang jumped up and shouted at her to go away and would have left at once if they had not held him there by force. The row went on till daybreak.

Suddenly Sanzang heard a call of, “Master! Master! We can hear you. Where are you?” Monkey, Pig and Friar Sand had been searching everywhere all night, leading the white horse and carrying the baggage. They had gone through all the thorns and brambles without a moment's rest and by now had reached the Western side of the 250-mile-wide cloud-capped Thorn Ridge, This was the shout they gave when they heard Sanzang's angry yells. Sanzang broke free, rushed outside, and called, “Wukong, I'm here. Help! Help!” The four ancients, the devil servant, the woman and her maids all disappeared in a flash.

A moment later Pig and Friar Sand were there too. “How ever did you get here, Master?” they asked.

“Disciples,” said Sanzang, clinging to Monkey, “I have put you to a lot of trouble. I was carried here by the old man who appeared last night and said he was a local deity bringing us vegetarian food-the one you shouted at and were going to hit. He held my hand and helped me inside that door there, where I saw three old men who had come to meet me. They kept calling me 'holy monk' and talked in a very pure and elegant way. They were marvellous poets, and I matched some verses with them. Then at about midnight a beautiful woman came with lanterns to see me and made up a poem herself. She kept calling me 'noble guest'. She liked the look of me so much she wanted to sleep with me. That brought me to my senses. When I refused they offered to be matchmakers and guarantors, and to marry us. I swore not to agree and was just shouting at them and trying to get away when to my surprise you turned up. Although they were still dragging at my clothes they suddenly disappeared. It must have been because it was dawn and because they were frightened of you too.”

“Did you ask them their names when you were talking about poetry?”

Monkey asked. “Yes,” Sanzang replied, “I asked them their titles. The oldest was Energy, the Eighteenth Lord; the next oldest was the Lone Upright Lord; the third was Master Emptiness; and the fourth the Ancient Cloud-toucher. They called the woman Apricot Fairy.”