The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (74 page)

Without permitting further discussion, the fiend stretched out his hands to seize Eight Rules. With a bound Idiot leaped down from the offering table and changed back into his true form. Whipping out his rake, he brought it down hard on the hands of the fiend. The fiend retreated hurriedly and tried to flee, but not before the blow of Eight Rules sent something to the ground with a clang. “I’ve punctured his armor!” shouted Eight Rules. As he changed back into his true form also, Pilgrim stepped forward to have a look and found that there were two fish scales about the size of ice dishes. “Chase him!” he yelled, and the two of them leaped into the air. Since that creature thought he was coming to a feast, he brought no weapon along. With bare hands he stood on the edge of the clouds and asked, “Monks, where did you come from? How dare you come to oppress me here, rob me of my offerings, and ruin my name?” “So, you’re an ignorant, brazen creature!” said Pilgrim. “We are disciples of the holy monk Tripitaka from the Great
Tang
in the Land of the East, who was sent by royal decree to go to the Western Heaven for scriptures. When we stayed with the Chen family last night, we heard that there was a perverse demon who falsely assumed the title of Numinous Power. Every year he demands a virgin boy and a virgin girl as sacrifice. In compassion we wanted to save lives and arrest you, you lawless creature. Confess at once. How many years have you called yourself Great King of this place, and how many boys and girls have you devoured? Give us a detailed account, and we may spare your life.” When that fiend heard these words, he turned and fled immediately. Eight Rules tried to strike at him again with the muckrake but did not succeed, for the fiend changed into a violent gust of wind that faded into the Heaven-Reaching River.

“No need to chase him anymore,” said Pilgrim. “This fiend has to be a creature of the river. Let’s wait till tomorrow before we try to catch him and ask him to take Master across the river.” Eight Rules agreed and both of them returned to the temple and hauled all the offerings and livestock, including the tables on which they were laden, back to the Chen house. At that time, the elder, Sha Monk, and the Chen brothers were all waiting for some news of them, when suddenly, they saw the two disciples dumping the sacrificial animals and offerings in the courtyard. “Wukong,” said Tripitaka, going forward to meet them, “how did the sacrifice go?” Pilgrim gave a thorough account of how they revealed their names and how the fiend disappeared into the river. The two old men were most pleased, and they at once gave the order for rooms to be made ready and bedding laid out for master and disciples to rest. There we shall leave them for the moment.

We tell you instead about that fiend, who escaped with his life and went back to his water palace. After he sat down, he fell completely silent for such a long time that his watery kinsfolk, young and old, all gathered about him to ask, “Great King, you are usually quite happy when you come home after the sacrifice. Why is it that you seem so annoyed this year?” “After I’ve satisfied myself in past years,” said the fiend, “I usually managed to bring some leftovers for you to enjoy. Today, however, not even I myself got anything to eat. I was so unlucky that I ran into an adversary and almost lost my life.” “Which adversary was that, Great King?” they asked. The fiend said, “A disciple of a holy monk of the Great Tang in the Land of the East, who was on his way to seek scriptures from Buddha in the Western Heaven. He took on the form of a virgin girl, while another disciple became the boy, both sitting in the temple. When they changed back into their original forms, I was nearly killed by the two of them. I have long heard that Tripitaka Tang happened to be a good man who had been practicing self-cultivation for ten incarnations. To eat even one piece of his flesh would prolong one’s life indefinitely, but I didn’t realize that he had such disciples
under
him. Not only has my reputation been ruined by them, but also the offerings due me were taken away. I would like very much to catch hold of that Tang Monk, but I fear that I may not be able to.”

From among the watery kinsfolk stepped a stripe-coated perch-mother who wriggled and bowed toward the fiend, saying with a smile, “Great King, if you want to catch the Tang Monk, it isn’t difficult at all. But I wonder if you would be willing to reward me with some wine and meat once you catch hold of him.” “If you could devise a plan and succeed in capturing the Tang Monk,” said the fiend, “I would become your bond-brother. We two shall share the same table to feast on him.” After thanking him, the perch-mother said, “I’ve known for a long time that the Great King possesses the magic to summon winds and rains and to stir up seas and rivers. May I ask whether you are able to cause snow to descend?” “Of course,” said the fiend. She asked again, “How about making ice and causing things to freeze over?” The fiend said, “Certainly.” “In that case,” said the perch-mother, clapping her hands and laughing, “it’s most easy! It’s most easy!” “Tell me what it is that’s most easy,” said the fiend.

The perch-mother said, “When it is about the hour of the third watch this night, the Great King should exercise his power without any further delay. Call up a cold wind and send down a great snowfall so that the entire Heaven-Reaching River will be solidly frozen. Those of us capable of transformation will assume human forms: carrying luggage, holding umbrellas, and pushing carts, we will follow the direction of the main road to the West and walk continuously on the ice on top of the river. That Tang Monk must be rather impatient to get to the scriptures, and when he sees people walking about like that, he too will want to cross the river by walking on the ice. The Great King can sit quietly at the heart of the river; as soon as you hear the sound of their footsteps, crack open the ice so that he and his disciples will fall into the water. All of them will be captured then.” When that fiend heard these words, he was exceedingly pleased. “Marvelous! Marvelous!” he cried, and he left his water residence at once to rise into the air. There he began to raise up a cold wind to bring snow and to cause everything to freeze up, but we shall mention him no further.

We tell you now instead about the Tang elder and his disciples, the four of them, sleeping in the Chen household. Just before dawn, all of them began to feel the chill even inside their blankets and their pillows turning cold. Sneezing and shivering, Eight Rules could no longer sleep, and he called out, “Elder Brother, it’s very cold!” “Idiot, why don’t you grow up!” said Pilgrim. “Those who have left the family cannot be touched by heat or cold. How could you be afraid of the cold?” Tripitaka said, “Disciple, it is indeed cold. Look! Even the

    
Heavy
quilts provide no warmth,

    
And hands in sleeves feel like ice.

    
Presently frost buds dangle from withered leaves,

    
And icy bells form on the hoary pines.

    
The ground cracks for the severe cold;

    
The pond’s level as the water’s frozen.

    
No old fisher is seen on any boat,

    
Nor a monk at the mountain temple.

    
Wood is scarce and the woodman’s sad;

    
Charcoals added, and the noble’s glad.

    
The soldier’s beard is like iron;

    
The poet’s brush is all hardened.

    
A leather coat still seems too thin;

    
A fur robe feels even too light.

    
On straw mats old priests turn stiff;

    
By paper screens no traveler can sleep.

    
Though brocade covers are heavy,

    
Your whole body shivers and shakes!”

Neither master nor disciples could sleep any longer; they scrambled up, and after putting on their clothes they opened the door to look outside. Ah! It was completely white, for it was snowing. “No wonder you were complaining of the cold,” said Pilgrim. “It’s snowing heavily!” The four of them stared at it. Marvelous snow! You see

    
Dark clouds densely formed—

    
Gray fog thickly gathered—

    
Dark clouds densely formed,

    
As a frigid wind howls throughout the sky;

    
Gray fog densely gathered,

    
As a great snowfall covers the earth.

    
Truly it is like

    
A flower that blooms six times,

    
Each petal a precious jasper;

    
Or a thousand-tree forest,

    
Each plant bedecked with jade.

    
In a moment: piles of flour!

    
In an instant: heaps of salt!

    
The white parrot has lost its essence;

    
The frosty crane can’t boast of its cost.

    
You add to all rivers of Wu and Chu

    
Or press down plum blossoms of the southeast.

    
Now it seems like vanquished jade dragons, some three million strong—

    
Indeed
like torn scales and ripped armor flying through the air.

    
Where can one find Dongguo’s shoes,
¹

    
Yuan An’s resting place,
²

    
Or the glow by which Sun Kang studied?
³

    
Nor can one see Ziyou’s boat,
⁴

    
Wang Gong’s robe,
⁵

    
Or blankets which fed Su Wu.
⁶

    
All you have are some village huts of silver bricks,

    
And a country side kneaded out of jade.

    
Marvelous snow—

    
Willow fleeces o’erspreading bridges;

    
Pear blossoms coating houses.

    
Willow fleeces o’erspreading bridges

    
As a fisher hangs up his coir-coat by the bridge;

    
Pear blossoms coating houses

    
As wild codgers burn tree roots in houses.

    
The guests find it hard to buy wine;

    
The old servant can’t find the plums.

    
Flitting and fluttering like butterfly wings;

    
Drifting and soaring like goose down;

    
Churning and rolling it follows the wind;

    
In heaps and mounds it hides the roads.

    
In waves the chilly might pierces the screens;

    
Soughing, the cold air penetrates the drapes.

    
A good year’s fine omens drop from the sky

    
To wish humans in their affairs success.

That snow came down fluttering, like flying threads of silk and finely cut chips of jade. After master and disciples gazed at it for a while, admiring its beauty, they saw the elder Chen approaching as two houseboys swept open a path. Two more brought along hot water for them to wash their faces, after which others presented hot tea and milk cakes. Then they carried charcoal fires into the parlor and invited master and disciples to sit inside. “Old Benefactor,” asked the elder, “may I inquire whether the seasons of your region are divided into spring, summer, autumn, and winter?” With a smile, the elder Chen said, “Though ours is a rather out-of-the-way region, only our people and our customs are different from those of a noble nation. But all the grains and livestock share the benefits of the same Heaven and the same sun. How could the four seasons be lacking?” “If so,” said Tripitaka, “how is it that we have such a great snowfall at this time of the year and such a terrible cold?” The elder Chen said, “Though this is only the seventh month, we just passed White Dew
⁷
yesterday, and that means
that
we are approaching the eighth month. In this place of ours, we have frost and snow during the eighth month.” “That’s quite different from our Land of the East,” said Tripitaka, “for we never have snow back there until winter actually arrives.”

As they conversed, the servants came forward once more to set the tables for them to dine on rice gruel. After the meal, the snow fell even more heavily, and soon it was two feet deep on the ground. Growing more and more anxious, Tripitaka began to weep. “Venerable Father, please do not worry,” said the elder Chen. “Please don’t let the deep snow bother you. We have stored up in our house a considerable amount of food, and, I dare say, sufficient to feed all of you for quite a long time.” Tripitaka said, “You don’t understand my sorrow, Old Benefactor. In that past year when I was entrusted with the decree to acquire scriptures, His Majesty personally escorted me outside the capital. With his own hand holding the goblet to toast me, the Tang emperor asked me, ‘When can you return?’ Not having any idea of the dangers of mountains and waters, this humble priest replied rather casually, ‘After three years I shall be able to return to our nation with the scriptures.’ Since we parted, it has been seven or eight years, and I have yet to see the face of Buddha. I have great fear that I might have exceeded the imperial limit, and I also am troubled by the viciousness of demons and monsters. Today it is my good fortune to live in your great mansion. After the small service rendered you by my foolish disciples last night, I had hopes that I could ask you for a boat to cross the river. Little did I expect that Heaven would send down this great snowfall to block and cover all the roads. Now I wonder when I would attain my goal and be able to return home.” “Relax, Venerable Father,” said the elder Chen, “for after all, many days of your journey have passed already. It does not matter if you spend a few more days here. When the weather clears and the ice melts, this old moron will see to it that you cross the river, even if I have to exhaust my wealth to do it.”