Chapter 64: Bajie Struggles Through the Briar Ridge; Tripitaka Talks Poetry at the Wood Immortal Abbey

The king of Jisai thanked Tripitaka and his disciples for recovering the treasure and capturing the monster, but he did not accept a single thread of gold or jade from the gifts he offered. Instead he ordered the palace attendants to make, for each of the four travelers, two sets of the clothes they were accustomed to wear, two pairs of shoes and socks, two cords and rings, and also to prepare dry rations and roasted provisions. The travel pass was exchanged for a fresh one. Then he arranged a great royal escort, with civil and military officials, the citizens of the capital, and the monks of Fulong Temple, all to the sound of drums and horns, to send the four of them out of the city. After about twenty li they took leave of the king first.

The crowd then sent them on another twenty li before turning back.

The monks of Fulong Temple still followed for fifty or sixty li and would not return. Some wanted to go with them all the way to the Western Heaven; some wanted to cultivate the Way and attend them there. When Wukong saw that none of them would turn back, he used a trick. He plucked thirty or forty hairs, breathed immortal breath on them, and cried, "Change!"

At once they became striped tigers, blocking the road ahead and roaring and leaping.

The monks were startled and dared not go farther. Only then did the Great Sage lead his master away on horseback. In a little while they were already far gone. The monks all broke into loud weeping and cried, "Our beneficent lords, who have both kindness and righteousness! We were without fate and so you would not save us."

We need not dwell on the monks' tears. As for the master and disciples, they went back onto the main road, gathered in their hairs, and continued straight west. Since seasons shift quickly, it was now the end of winter and the beginning of spring, neither warm nor cold, a fine time for traveling at ease.

Then they saw a long ridge, with the road running over its summit. Tripitaka drew in his horse and looked. The ridge was covered with thorn vines and creepers. There were traces of a road, but the sides were all thorns and briars.

Tripitaka said, "Disciples, how can we cross this road?"

Wukong said, "Why not cross it?"

He added, "Master, the road track is below and the thorns are above. Only snakes and insects creeping along the ground could get through. If you try to ride, you will not even be able to straighten your waist. How am I to manage the horse?"

Bajie said, "That is no matter. Let me use my brushwood-clearing hand. I can split the briars with my rake. Never mind riding a horse. I will even carry you through in a sedan chair if need be."

Tripitaka said, "You may be strong, but you cannot endure this for a long stretch, and we do not know how far it runs. How can we waste so much strength?"

Wukong said, "No need to argue. Let me go look."

He sprang into the sky and looked down. There was no end in sight. Truly it was:

The earth was ringed by far heaven, wrapped in mist and rain.
Soft turf was jumbled all along the road; green canopies spread over the whole mountain.
Thickly and densely the leaves were just opening; they clung and pulled, full of fragrance.
From afar you could not tell where it ended; from near it seemed a sea of green clouds.
Faint and lush, dense and deep,
wind-sound rustling softly, sunlight flashing bright.
There were pines and cypresses and also bamboo,
many plum trees, many willows, and more mulberry.
Creepers wound old trees; vines looped over drooping poplars.
Some grew tangled like trellises, some linked together like bedsteads.
Here flowers bloomed so richly they seemed a spread of brocade;
there wild blossoms gave off fragrance even at a distance.
Who among men does not meet briars and thorns?
Yet who had ever seen the Western road itself covered in briars?

When Wukong had looked long enough, he lowered the cloud and said, "Master, this place is a long way off."

Tripitaka asked, "How far?"

Wukong said, "I cannot see the end. It looks to be a thousand li or more."

Tripitaka was shocked. "What are we to do?"

Sha Wujing laughed. "Master, do not worry. We can imitate the slash-and-burn farmers and set a fire. Once the briars are burned away, we can cross."

Bajie said, "Do not talk nonsense. Slash-and-burn farmers wait until the tenth month or so, when the grass is withered and the trees are dry, before they light the fire. Now everything is still lush. How could you burn it?"

Wukong said, "Even if you could burn it, you would still frighten people."

Tripitaka said, "Then how are we to get across?"

Bajie laughed. "If you want to cross, you still have to rely on me."

The fool pinched a spell and muttered an incantation. Bending his waist, he called, "Grow!"

At once his body grew to about twenty zhang high. He shook the rake and cried, "Change!"

It changed into a rake handle some thirty zhang long.

He spread his feet, gripped the rake with both hands, and pushed the briars apart left and right.

"Master, come along behind me."

Tripitaka was delighted to see this. He urged his horse to follow close behind, Sha Wujing carried the luggage, and Wukong used his iron rod to part the briars as well. They did not stop all day and traveled nearly a hundred li.

Toward evening they came to an open place.

On the road stood a stone stele with three large characters: Briar Ridge. Beneath it were two lines of fourteen smaller characters: "Briars and vines stretch eight hundred li; from old times the road has seen few travelers."

When Bajie saw this, he laughed. "Let Old Pig add two lines for him: 'From now on Bajie can break the way open, and the road to the Western Heaven will be made smooth.'"

Tripitaka happily dismounted and said, "Disciples, you have tired yourselves. Let us stay here for tonight and travel again when daylight comes."

Bajie said, "Master, do not stop. Since the weather is clear, we are in the mood to keep pushing the road all night and split it open while we can."

The elder had no choice but to agree.

Bajie went forward with great effort. The master and disciples did not rest their hands, and the horse did not stop its feet. They traveled another day and night, and once again evening came.

Ahead they saw tangled growth. Wind rattled the bamboo, and the pine trees sighed. There was just another open patch, and in its middle stood an old temple.

Outside the temple gate, the pines and cypresses were dark green and the peaches and plums were in bloom side by side. Tripitaka dismounted and looked at the place with his three disciples.

The ancient temple leaned by the cold stream before the cliff;
as the eye fell on it, the wild smoke shut the ruined mound away.
Within the white crane grove, years were deep;
below the green weeds platform, spring and autumn came and went by themselves.
Bamboo shook as if green pendants had voices;
birds played their last notes, sounding like complaints.
No cocks or dogs were heard, and few human tracks remained;
idle flowers and wild vines wound around the wall tops.

Wukong looked and said, "This is a place of little fortune and much danger. It is not fit for a long rest."

Sha Wujing said, "Brother, you are too suspicious. In such a remote place with no one living here, and no wild beast or demon bird either, what is there to fear?"

He had barely finished when a gust of dark wind blew out from behind the temple gate. Out came an old man in a square cap and plain clothing, leaning on a staff and wearing straw sandals. Behind him followed a blue-faced, tusked ghost servant in a red beard and bare body, carrying a tray of steamed cakes on his head.

The old man knelt and said, "Great Sage, I am the earth god of Briar Ridge. Knowing that the Great Sage had come here, and having nothing worthy to offer, I have prepared a tray of steamed cakes to present to your master, and one meal for each of you. There are eight hundred li of empty road here and no household anywhere, so please eat a little to ease your hunger."

Bajie was delighted. He stepped forward with his hands out, ready to take the cakes. But Wukong had already studied the man carefully and shouted, "Hold it. This fellow is no good. Do not be rude. What sort of earth god are you, trying to deceive Old Sun? Taste my rod!"

The old man saw the blow coming, turned his body, and changed into a gust of dark wind. With a whoosh he snatched up the elder and carried him away, floating and drifting until none of them knew where he had been taken.

The Great Sage was so frightened he could not even follow. Bajie and Sha Wujing both paled, and the white horse only neighed in alarm. The three brothers and the horse stood there in a daze, looking far out with not a trace of where he had gone. Search as they might from front and back, they could find nothing more. We need not dwell on that.

The old man and the ghost servant carried Tripitaka to a stone house wrapped in mist and rosy clouds, then set him down gently. Taking him by the hand, they said, "Holy monk, do not be afraid. We are not evil men. We are the Eighteen Worthies of Briar Ridge, and because the wind is clear and the moon bright tonight, we have invited you here to meet friends and talk poetry, to entertain the heart."

Only then did the elder settle his mind and look carefully about him. Truly it was:

A place where mist and clouds go wandering, a home in the realm of purity.
It is well suited to cleanse the body and cultivate the self,
well suited to grow bamboo and plant flowers.
One often sees cranes from the green cliffs,
and hears frogs calling from the blue pools.
It rivals the cinnabar furnaces of Tiantai,
and still hopes for the rosy clouds of Mount Hua.
What need to speak of plowing clouds or fishing the moon?
Such a place is fit for hidden retirement.
When one sits here long, the secret heart becomes like the sea,
and through the gauze of the window the moon rises in dim clarity.

Tripitaka was still studying the place when he gradually noticed the moon growing bright and the stars shining clear, and then he heard people talking.

They were saying, "Eighteen Worthy has brought the holy monk here."

Tripitaka looked up and saw three old men. The first had frost-like bearing and noble grace; the second had green temples flowing loose; the third seemed to have a hollow heart and dark-blue color.

Their faces and dress were all unlike one another, yet all came and bowed to Tripitaka. The elder returned the courtesy and said, "What virtue has poor monk that I should trouble such immortal elders with your kindness?"

Eighteen Worthy laughed. "For a long time we have heard that the holy monk follows the Way. We waited a long time, and today we are fortunate enough to meet you. If you do not begrudge us your pearl-like words, and if you will sit with us awhile and speak your heart, that will prove the true Chan lineage."

Tripitaka bowed. "May I ask the noble names of the immortals?"

Eighteen Worthy said, "The one with the frost-like bearing is called Lord of Pure Straight. The one with green temples is called Master Lofty Void. The one with the hollow heart is called Old Cloudbrush. As for me, I am called Stout Bamboo."

Tripitaka said, "How old are the four of you?"

Lord of Pure Straight said:

My years have already crossed the thousand-old ages;
my leaves that support the sky are lush in the four seasons of spring.
My fragrant branches are thick as dragon and serpent shapes;
my broken shadows are layered like frost and snow.
From youth I have been firm and hard, able to endure old age;
from now on I take delight in uprightness and in cultivating the Way.
No common creature sleeps in my branches,
far and wide I stand apart from the dust of the world.

Master Lofty Void smiled and said:

I too have stood a thousand years and laughed at frost and snow;
my tall trunk and spiritual branches grow firm by their own strength.
When night is still, my sound is like raindrops;
when autumn is clear, my shade spreads like a cloud.
My roots already know the secret of long life;
my given nature is fit for the art of never growing old.
I can keep cranes and change into dragons, and I am no common thing,
clear and bright, near the land of immortals.

Old Cloudbrush smiled and said:

I have spent a thousand autumns in the cold,
and my old age is serene and more deeply quiet.
Mixed with no noisy dust, I remain ever cool and indifferent;
though battered by frost and snow, I keep my own manner.
The Seven Sages are my companions in talking of the Way;
the Six Idlers are my friends in singing and trading verse.
My notes are not the shallow clatter of jade and gold;
by nature I am fitted for immortal wandering.

Stout Bamboo, Eighteen Worthy, smiled and said:

My years are more than a thousand too;
my green and upright grace stands steady as it is.
It is sad to think how rain and dew helped shape me;
I borrowed the workings of heaven and earth.
In ten thousand ravines, wind and mist belong to me alone;
in all four seasons I stand apart and spare.
I spread my green shadow to shelter immortal guests,
and with games and the zither I discuss the books of the Way.

Tripitaka thanked them and said, "The four of you are all blessed with long life, and Master Stout Bamboo is more than a thousand years older still. You have attained the Way in your old age, and your bearing is refined and unusual. Are you not perhaps the 'Four Whiteheads' of Han times?"

The four old men said, "We thank you for the compliment, we thank you. We are not the Four Whiteheads, but rather the Four Cultivars of the deep mountain. May we ask the holy monk your noble age?"

Tripitaka folded his hands and bowed. Then he answered:

Forty years ago I came out of my mother's womb;
even before I was born, my life had already been calamity.
I escaped by falling into the water and rolling with the waves;
luckily I met Golden Mountain and got out alive.
I have never been careless in nurturing my nature or reading the sutras;
I have dared not tarry in my sincere worship of the Buddha.
Now the emperor has sent me west,
and on the road I have met the kindly favor of the immortals.

The four old men praised him one after another.

"Holy monk, since you came out of the womb, you have followed the Buddha's teaching. You are indeed a monk who has cultivated from childhood and who truly follows the middle and upright Way. We are fortunate to receive your honored presence, and we beg you to teach us the great teaching. Please speak to us of Chan, even in a few lines, so that it may ease our lifelong desire."

The elder, hearing this, spoke with no fear:

"Chan is stillness. The dharma is deliverance. Deliverance in stillness cannot be achieved without awakening. Awakening means washing the mind and rinsing away thought, leaving the world and dust behind. Human birth is hard to obtain, the Central Land hard to find, and the true law hard to encounter. To possess all three is the greatest fortune.

The profound Way of supreme virtue is distant and subtle. The six sense organs and the six faculties of consciousness may then be swept away. Bodhi is neither death nor life, with nothing extra and nothing lacking; emptiness and form are both contained within it, and saints and mortals alike are cast aside.

Search out the original hammer and clamp of true principle, and awaken to the real skill of Muni. Set loose the image-born obscurity and trample Nirvana underfoot. One must awaken within awakening, realize within realization, guarding the single spiritual light in full. Let the fierce flame shine through the world of pain, and the dharma realm will be revealed alone and everywhere. To the most hidden depths, one must keep firm guard. Who can cross the gate of the mysterious pivot with mere words?

I am one who has long cultivated the great awakening in Chan. Only those with fate and will can remember and awaken."

The four old men listened with their ears turned toward him and were filled with boundless joy.

One after another they bowed and took refuge, saying, "Holy monk, you are the root of Chan understanding."

Old Cloudbrush said, "Chan may be still, and dharma may be deliverance, but one must keep one's nature settled and one's heart sincere. Even if one becomes a true immortal of great awakening, one still sits within the way of no birth. But our hidden truth is quite different."

Tripitaka said, "The Way is no ordinary thing. Its substance and function are one. How can it be different?"

Old Cloudbrush smiled. "We are born sturdy, so our substance and function differ from yours. We receive the body from heaven and earth, and the color from rain and dew. We laugh in the frost and wind and wear away the sun and moon. Not a leaf falls; a thousand branches keep their virtue.

If you do not question these words of mine and insist on your Brahman language, then the Way originally belonged in China. Why go to the West to seek proof? You will only wear out your straw sandals, and I do not know what you expect to find. It is like carving the heart out of a stone lion or pouring fox-spittle through the bones.

To leave the root behind while discussing Chan, and to foolishly seek the Buddhist fruit, is just like the tangled riddles of Briar Ridge, all vines and creepers and confused talk. How could gentlemen of that sort ever be guided? How could such a manner ever confer the seal?

One must inspect the face one has before, and in stillness there is naturally a livelihood. A bottomless bamboo basket may scoop water, and a rootless iron tree may bloom. Stand firmly on Lingbao Peak and return to the elegant assembly to meet Maitreya."

Tripitaka heard this and bowed in thanks.

Eighteen Worthy took him by the hand, Lord of Pure Straight pulled him up, and Master Lofty Void laughed aloud and said, "Old Cloudbrush's words have clearly spilled too much. Please rise, holy monk. Do not believe everything at once. We have not gathered here in this moonlight to talk only of cultivation. Let us sing a few poems and give free rein to our hearts."

Old Cloudbrush smiled and pointed to the stone house. "If you want to recite poetry, why not first go into my little abbey for tea?"

Tripitaka indeed bent slightly and looked toward the stone house. On the door were three large characters: Wood Immortal Abbey.

So they went in and took their seats again.

Then a blue-faced ghost servant came in carrying a tray of kudzu paste and five cups of fragrant soup. The four old men invited Tripitaka to eat first, but Tripitaka was suspicious and did not dare eat right away. The four old men all helped themselves first, and only then did Tripitaka eat two pieces.

They drank the fragrant soup and cleared the tray.

Tripitaka watched quietly and saw that the place glowed with delicate brightness, like moonlight.

Water ran out from the stones,
fragrance drifted from the flowers.
The whole place was clear and pure, with elegant grace,
and not the slightest dust.

The elder, seeing this immortal realm, thought it most delightful. His heart and joy opened wide, and he could not help but say, "Chan mind is like the moon, far and spotless."

Old Stout Bamboo smiled and immediately linked the line:

"Poetic feeling is like the sky, fresh and newly blue."

Lord of Pure Straight said:

"A fine line, lightly cut like brocade and embroidery."

Master Lofty Void said:

"A splendid verse, not needing even the least touch to become a jewel."

Old Cloudbrush said:

"Six Dynasties splendor is washed away at once;
the Four Beginnings are trimmed anew into elegance."

Tripitaka said, "Your disciple has blurted out a few random words and spoken nonsense. It is truly what the ancients called showing off an axe before the Lu family. But hearing the words of the immortals, so fresh and airy, I know now you are true poets."

Stout Bamboo said, "Holy monk, there is no need for idle talk. A monk should be complete from first to last. Since there is a beginning line, why should there not be an ending line? We beg you to finish it."

Tripitaka said, "I cannot. It would be better if Eighteen Worthy ended it into a complete poem."

Stout Bamboo said, "You have such a kind heart. Since you started the line, how can you refuse to finish it? To be stingy with pearls and jade is not reasonable."

Tripitaka had no choice but to add the last two lines:

Half a pillow of pine wind, tea still not ready;
in my singing heart, spring fills the whole chest.

Eighteen Worthy said, "What a line: 'in my singing heart, spring fills the whole chest'!"

Lord of Pure Straight said, "Stout Bamboo, you know the taste of poetry, so you only keep chewing on it. Why not start another one?"

Eighteen Worthy was willing and said:

Spring does not flourish, winter does not wither;
cloud comes and mist goes, and it is as though nothing were there.

Master Lofty Void followed with:

No wind stirs the swaying, graceful shadow;
a guest comes and delights in the picture of blessing and longevity.

Old Cloudbrush also followed:

The picture is like the hard-vined old man of Western Hills;
the clear one is like the southerner without a heart.

Lord of Pure Straight also followed:

The man with side leaves is called a beam or ridgepole;
the terrace is made from crossing boughs for the black-bird of the law.

The elder listened and praised them without end.

"These are truly the white snow of the sunny spring, with noble qi soaring to the sky. I am untalented, but I dare to begin another couplet."

Lord of Pure Straight said, "Holy monk, you are a man of the Way and a man of great nurture. You need not continue the linked verse. Instead, give us the whole poem, so that we may try to answer it."

Tripitaka had no choice but to smile and recite:

I came west with staff and bowl to bow before the Lord of Dharma,
and hope to seek the subtle scriptures and spread their fame afar.
Three glorious shoots of golden ganoderma are a sign of the poetry altar;
a thousand jeweled trees send forth the fragrance of lotus buds.
At the top of a hundred-foot pole one must still go forward;
in the ten directions of the world one must live and act.
When one has cultivated a jade image and an august body,
the gate of supreme bliss is the place of the Way.

The four old men listened and praised him highly.

Eighteen Worthy said, "This humble one has no ability, yet I dare intrude and answer too."

Your lofty and solitary bamboo laughs at the wooden sovereign;
your spirit is not like my name is spoken.
In the mountain void, at a hundred zhang, the shadow of dragon and serpent lies;
from a spring one draws amber fragrance for a thousand years.
It can join with heaven and earth to bring forth vigor;
it rejoices in wind and rain as it shapes its fortunes.
Though I am old and declining, and ashamed of having no immortal bones,
I have only lingzhi paste to bind the field of longevity.

Lord of Pure Straight said, "This poem begins boldly and the linked lines are strong, but the last line is too modest. Admirable, admirable! Let me answer as well."

I always delight in the frost-like form of the bird-roost king;
before the hall of the four excellences, great talent is displayed.
Heavy dew beads the crown of pearls beneath the green canopy;
light wind breaks the cold fragrance on the stone teeth.
In the long corridor, when night is still, the chanting is fine and thin;
in the old hall, under autumn shade, a pale shadow is hidden.
On New Year's Day I once offered wine in welcome to spring;
in old age I rest in pride on the mountain field.

Master Lofty Void smiled and said:

Fine poem, fine poem. It truly reaches the moon's ribs and heaven's heart. How could I not answer? But I must not pass the moment empty-handed, so I too will toss in a few lines.

Timber for beams and ridgepoles stands near the throne;
outside the Great Pure Palace its voice is heard.
In a bright pavilion it seems to bring in a green qi;
in a dark wall it commonly sends through a green fragrance.
Its upright character is coldly grand through a thousand ages;
its deep roots are bound up in the yellow springs.
Its rising strength covers the swaying shadows;
it does not dwell in the bright beauty of the flowers.

Old Cloudbrush said:

The three of you have poems of lofty elegance and clean restraint. You have truly opened the brocade purse wide. I am weak in body and poor in verse, but thanks to the three of you I have had my darkened mind opened. I too will throw out a few lines of doggerel. Please do not laugh at me.

In the Qiaomao garden the saintly king takes delight;
along the thousand-acre Wei River one may spread and divide at will.
Green bamboo is untouched by Xiang River maidens' tears;
its spotted husks may still carry the fragrance of Han histories.
Frost leaves have long kept their color unchanged;
smoke-tipped branches now hide what color they may.
Only Ziyou's death left few who know the tune;
from ancient times he has kept his name in the world of writing.

Tripitaka said, "The poems of the immortals are truly like phoenixes bursting from the mouth and pearls spraying from the lips. Even You and Xia could not praise them enough. Your deep affection and lofty spirit move me beyond measure. But night is deep now, and my three disciples do not know where they are waiting for me. I cannot remain long. I beg leave now to search for them. Please point me toward the way back."

The four old men laughed.

"Holy monk, do not worry. We have had a rare meeting over a thousand years. Besides, the sky is clear and the moon is bright, so even though the night is deep, it is like day. Sit a little longer. When dawn comes, we will certainly escort you across the ridge, and your disciples will surely meet you."

While they were speaking, two blue-robed girls came outside the stone house, carrying a pair of crimson gauze lanterns, and behind them followed an immortal maiden. She twirled a branch of apricot blossoms and entered smiling.

What did she look like? She was:

Dressed in green, she seemed painted with jade;
her cinnabar face rivaled rouge.
Her starry eyes shone with color;
her fine brows were graceful and even.
Below she wore a light red skirt patterned with five-colored plum blossoms,
and above a gauze under-vest like smoke and fire.
Her curved shoes had phoenix-like tips,
and her silk stockings dragged over the brocade mud.
She was as alluring as the women of Mount Tiantai,
and no less charming than Lady Daji of old.

The four old men half rose and asked, "Where has Apricot Immortal come from?"

The woman made her deep courtesy to them all and said, "I heard there was a fine guest here answering poems with you, so I came to visit and ask for an audience."

Eighteen Worthy pointed at Tripitaka and said, "The fine guest is right here. Why trouble yourself to ask?"

Tripitaka bowed and did not dare speak.

The woman called, "Bring tea quickly."

Then two boys in yellow came in carrying a red lacquered tray. On the tray were six fine porcelain tea cups, with several unusual fruits set in them, and the spoons laid across them. They also brought a white-iron-and-brass teapot, from which fragrant tea poured forth. When the tea was poured, the woman barely lifted her spring-onion fingers and first offered a cup to Tripitaka, then to the four old men, and only after that took one for herself.

Master Lofty Void said, "Why does Apricot Immortal not sit down?"

Only then did she take a seat.

When the tea was done, she bowed and asked, "Immortal elders, you have had such merry company tonight. Might I ask for a few of your fine lines?"

Old Cloudbrush said, "What we speak is vulgar and clumsy. Only the holy monk's is a truly prosperous Tang poem, and it is greatly to be admired."

The woman said, "If you do not begrudge me your teaching, I beg to see it."

The four old men then repeated the elder's earlier poems and his talk of Chan, and explained it all to her.

Her face brightened with delight. She said to them all, "Though I am untalented, I ought not make a fool of myself. But hearing these fine lines, I dare not leave them unanswered. May I venture a matching poem?"

Then she recited:

The Han king won a name by leaving me to stand;
in Zhou times Confucius raised a platform to proclaim the Way.
Immortal Dong loved me so that I formed a thick grove;
when the cold food day came, Zi Chun once admired my fragrance.
Rain moistens my red form, lovely and tender;
mist steams my green color, partly shown and partly hidden.
I know that once I am overripe there will be a slight sour taste;
when I fall, every year I am companion to the wheat fields.

The four old men heard the poem and all praised it.

"Clean and elegant, free from dust, and every line carries the breath of spring. What a fine line: 'Rain moistens my red form, lovely and tender!' What a fine line!"

The woman smiled and said softly, "I am ashamed, I am ashamed. I have just heard the holy monk's verses, and they truly have a brocade heart and embroidered mouth.

If you do not begrudge me your pearl-like words, would you teach me one tune?"

Tripitaka did not dare answer.

The woman seemed to warm toward him more and more. She edged closer and closer to his seat and whispered, "Fine guest, why not enjoy yourself on this good night? What use is waiting?"

Eighteen Worthy said, "Apricot Immortal has a deeply admiring heart. How can the holy monk not show a little favor in return? If you will not take pity, then you are being ungracious."

Lord of Pure Straight said, "The holy monk is a man of the Way and a man of fame. He would never behave lightly. If this matter is handled thus, we are the ones at fault. To stain another man's name and ruin his virtue is no act of far range or great reach. If Apricot Immortal truly has feelings, let Old Cloudbrush and Eighteen Worthy act as matchmakers, while I and Master Lofty Void stand as guarantors. Let this marriage be completed. What could be better?"

Tripitaka heard this and changed color.

He sprang up and shouted, "All of you are of one kind of monster, trying to tempt me like this. At first I only spoke the lowly language of Chan and the Way. How can you now use a beauty trap to deceive and harm a poor monk? What sort of argument is this?"

The four old men, seeing Tripitaka angry, all bit their fingers in alarm and said no more.

The bare ghost servant, now furious, roared, "This monk does not know what is good for him. What is wrong with my sister? Her looks are refined and graceful, her jade body and lovely bearing are beyond question. Not to mention women's handiwork and needlework, even in poetry she could match you. Why do you refuse so? Do not let this pass. What Lord of Pure Straight said was right. If you truly will not consent, then let me be the one to arrange the marriage."

Tripitaka was terrified. No matter how wildly they talked, he would not yield.

The ghost servant went on, "Monk, we have spoken to you kindly and you still refuse. If we let our rustic nature out, we could just carry you away. Then you would not be able to remain a monk or marry a wife, and your whole life would be wasted."

The elder's heart was like metal and stone. He stayed firm and would not yield.

He thought to himself, "My disciples do not know where I am and are surely searching for me."

He could not hold back his tears.

The woman kept smiling as she moved closer to him. From her green sleeve she took a honey-colored silk handkerchief and wiped his tears away.

"Fine guest, do not be sad. Come away with me and lean against jade and scent of flowers, and let us play."

The elder shouted, leaped to his feet, and ran.

Those people tugged and pulled at him and argued all the way until dawn.

Then suddenly someone shouted, "Master! Master! Where are you talking from?"

It was Sun Wukong, together with Bajie and Sha Wujing, leading the horse and carrying the luggage. They had not stopped all night. They had cut through briars and thorns and searched east and west. They had just crossed the western end of the eight-hundred-li Briar Ridge in cloud and mist when they heard Tripitaka shouting, and they cried out in reply.

The elder struggled out of the house and called, "Wukong, I am here! Come save me, come save me!"

The four old men, the ghost servant, the woman, and the girls all flashed and vanished at once.

In a moment Bajie and Sha Wujing also arrived nearby and said, "Master, how did you get here?"

Tripitaka held on to Wukong and said, "Disciples, you have all gone to great trouble for me. Last night, the old man we saw said an earth god was to bring us food. When you shouted to strike him, he carried me to this place. He took me by the hand and led me in through the door, where I met three old men who all called me 'holy monk.' They all spoke politely and praised poetry most elegantly. I traded poems with them and thought it was near midnight, when suddenly a beautiful woman came in carrying a lantern. She too met me here, recited a poem, and called me a 'fine guest.' Because she saw my face, she wanted a match. Only then did I wake up to what was happening. When I would not agree, they arranged the match, stood as guarantors, and made wedding plans. I swore I would never consent. Just as I was trying to struggle away and quarrel with them, you arrived. First it was daybreak, and second, I was still afraid of you, so I only tugged and pulled until they suddenly vanished."

Wukong said, "Since you talked poetry with them, did you not ask their names?"

Tripitaka said, "I did ask for their titles. That old man was called Eighteen Worthy and was styled Stout Bamboo; the second was called Lord of Pure Straight; the third was Master Lofty Void; the fourth was Old Cloudbrush; and the woman was called Apricot Immortal."

Bajie said, "Where are those things? Which way did they go?"

Tripitaka said, "I do not know where they went. But the place where we were talking poetry is not far from here."

The three of them went with their master to look. There they saw a stone cliff, and on the cliff were three characters: Wood Immortal Abbey.

Tripitaka said, "This is the place."

Wukong examined it closely and saw that it was really one great cypress, one old cypress, one old pine, one old bamboo, and behind the bamboo a red maple. Looking to the other side of the cliff, he saw one old apricot, two wintersweet trees, and two cassia trees.

Wukong laughed. "Did you see any demons?"

Bajie said, "No."

Wukong said, "You do not know that it was these very trees that had become spirits here."

Bajie asked, "How do you know the spirits were trees?"

Wukong said, "Eighteen Worthy was a pine tree, Lord of Pure Straight was a cypress, Master Lofty Void was a cypress as well, Old Cloudbrush was a bamboo stalk, the bare ghost was a maple tree, Apricot Immortal was the apricot, and the girls were the cassias and the wintersweets."

When Bajie heard this, he did not care whether it was right or wrong. He brought down the rake in a fury, thrusting and striking three or five times with his long mouth, until he had smashed the wintersweets, cassias, apricot, and maple to the ground. Sure enough, blood flowed from the roots.

Tripitaka hurried up and caught him.

"Wuneng, do not hurt them. Though they have attained some power, they have not harmed me. Let us just find the road."

Wukong said, "Master, do not pity them. I fear that later they will become great demons and do much harm."

The fool simply swung his rake harder and smashed down the pines, cypresses, cypress, and bamboo together. Only then did he ask his master to mount up, and they all went west along the great road.

But how they would fare afterward, that must wait for the next chapter.