Now, Ji Gong came to the study. “Reverend,” said the old squire, “where is your honoured temple?” “Lingyin Temple on West Lake,” said the monk. “The first character of my name is Dao and the second is Ji, and people have garbled it into Crazy Ji. That’s me. And how should I address you, Old Squire?” “My surname is Zhao,” said the old squire, “and my name is Defang. My servant tells me just now that the holy monk has a wonderful medicine for hurrying births that brings the child at once. If the holy monk can hurry this birth along, I will thank you handsomely.” “I have a pill here,” said the monk. “Take it inside, dissolve it in yin-yang water and give it to the mother to swallow. I guarantee you’ll see it work on the spot.” Zhao Defang gave the medicine to a servant to take inside, explaining clearly what to do, and stayed where he was to keep the monk company in talk. A little later a maidservant came out. “Great joy, Old Squire! She took the medicine and gave birth at once. You have a grandson!” Zhao Defang was overjoyed to hear it. “The holy monk is truly an immortal,” he said, and at once ordered wine laid out. “I have two attendants with me outside,” said the monk. “They’re standing at the gate.” At this the old squire hurriedly had servants invite the two head constables, Chai and Du, inside. The servants set out the wine, and everyone took their seats and drank. “There is one thing I don’t understand,” said Zhao Defang, “and I would like to ask the holy monk about it.” “What’s that?” said the monk. “I won’t hide it from the holy monk,” said Zhao Defang. “When I started out I had nothing to live on but myself, and I made my way by playing people for fools. Going against my conscience, I built up a fortune from nothing and came by a family estate. Last year, when I celebrated my sixtieth birthday, I had three children and three daughters-in-law, and I called my sons to me. I said, ‘My sons, the way this old man built up the family fortune was with a hollow steelyard. When I bought from people I could take twenty ounces as a pound1, and when I sold to them, fourteen ounces passed for a pound. There’s mercury inside the beam. Some time ago I bought several thousand pounds of cotton and gained four ounces on every pound, and the merchant who sold me the cotton lost his capital. What with his anger on top of it, he caught a fever and died, and I’ve been ashamed of it ever since. Now I have a houseful of children, and from now on I’ll do nothing more against my conscience.’ Then and there I smashed the beam of that steelyard. I meant to turn from evil to good. Who would have thought that Heaven has no eyes? Not a month after I smashed the steelyard, my eldest son died, and his wife married someone else. We had only just finished with all that when my second son died too, and his wife also went on to another man. Before two more months were out, my third son died as well. My third daughter-in-law was with child, so she hasn’t remarried yet. Holy monk, look at it. Isn’t this just what they say: ‘Build bridges and mend roads, and you go blind in both eyes; kill and burn, and you have sons and grandsons aplenty’? How is it that doing good brings an evil reward?” The monk laughed aloud. “Don’t let your thoughts run wild. I’ll tell you. Your eldest son was once a merchant who dealt in medicinal herbs. You schemed him to his death, and he was reborn as your eldest son to collect his debt from you2. Your second son came to squander your fortune. Your third son was going to bring a disaster as big as the sky down on you, and in your old age you were bound to starve to death. It is all because you turned from evil to good that Heaven had eyes and took those three wastrels away from you. This makes you the foremost good man there is. It’s like the saying: a widow who loses her virtue can’t compare with an old courtesan who goes straight3.” Zhao Defang heard this as if waking from a dream. “I am deeply grateful for the holy monk’s teaching. Now I have a grandson. Will he grow up to amount to something?” “This grandson of yours,” said the monk, “will one day bring glory to your ancestors and raise your family’s standing.” “Then all is well,” said Zhao Defang. “Holy monk, drink up.” By the time they had finished drinking it was late, and the monk stayed the night there with Chai and Du. The next day, as soon as it was light, the monk got up and said, “I need to relieve myself.” He left the Zhao house and came to Shizi Street inside the city of Changshan County. On the north side of the street he saw a gatehouse, and more than twenty people were standing at the gate, all talking at once. “Everybody, what are you all doing here?” said the monk. “We’re waiting to see the doctor,” they said. “Mr. Xu here is a famous physician. He sees just twenty patients a day at his door, and not one more. You have to come early to get in. We all came early to wait and get our numbers, and the doctor isn’t even up yet.” “Right,” said the monk. “I’ll go and get him up.” As he spoke he strode into the gateway and shouted, “The shopkeeper of the doctoring shop isn’t up yet!”

A steward came out of the gatekeeper’s room. “Monk, don’t talk nonsense. Since when does seeing patients have a shopkeeper?” “A shop-hand, then?” said the monk. “No shop-hand either,” said the steward. “There’s a doctor here.” “Then call the doctor out,” said the monk. “I want to be seen.” Just as they were talking, the doctor came out from inside. The monk took a look. The gentleman wore a scholar’s cap of kingfisher blue and a scholar’s gown of kingfisher blue, with a silk cord tied at his waist and thick-soled shoes of woven bamboo. He was a physician of the town, named Xu Jingkui. He had only just got up, and hearing someone outside shouting for the shopkeeper of the doctoring shop, he had hurried out. He saw that it was a poor monk. “Monk, what is it?” said Xu Jingkui. “I want to be seen,” said the monk. Mr. Xu thought, “I’ll take a look at him and be done with it,” and went into the gatekeeper’s room to examine him. In the gatekeeper’s room the monk said, “I ache all over and have no strength, and my thighs are stiff.” “Let me take your pulse,” said Mr. Xu. The monk stuck out his leg. “Hold out your hand,” said Mr. Xu. “I thought the pulse was in the leg,” said the monk, and only then held out his hand. “At the wrist,” said the doctor. “Not at the hand’s head?” said the monk. “Go ahead, then.” Mr. Xu felt the pulse for a long while. “Monk, there’s nothing wrong with you.” “There is,” said the monk. “I find your six pulses4 calm and even,” said Mr. Xu. “You’re not ill.” “I am ill,” said the monk. “And not only am I ill, you’re ill too. Your illness is one nobody but me can cure.” “What illness have I got?” said Mr. Xu. “You’ve got a bellyful of wicked schemes5, yin and yang,” said the monk. “Monk, you’re talking utter nonsense,” said Mr. Xu. “Nonsense?” said the monk. “You and I have a lawsuit between us.”

As he spoke, the monk grabbed Mr. Xu by his silk cord and started hauling him outside. The crowd tried to stop him. “What’s this lawsuit about?” “Never you mind,” said the monk. He hauled him off, and nobody could hold him back. The monk was strong, and he hauled him all the way to Changshan County, shouting, “Your Honour of cloudy skies, Your Honour of clear skies, I’ve been wronged most bitterly!” The runners were about to stop him when His Honour saw it was Ji Gong and quickly ordered Madam Sun and the others taken down. “Please be seated, holy monk,” he said. The magistrate knew Xu Jingkui as well; he had come to the yamen to treat the sick. “Holy monk,” said the magistrate, “what is this between you and Mr. Xu?” “Since Your Honour asks,” said the monk, “yesterday I stayed at Zhao Defang’s house, and I fell ill. Squire Zhao saw I was ill and talked of sending for the famous physician Xu Jingkui to see me. Only his horse money6 is too dear: six strings just to step out of his door, twenty strings once he gets out to the gate suburbs, and twenty-four strings the moment it’s more than five li. I said, ‘I can’t afford him; I’ll go to him myself.’ This morning Squire Zhao gave me fifty taels of silver, and I walked twenty li on my own from Zhao Family Village into the city to Mr. Xu’s house to be seen at his door. He asked me if I had any money. I said I had silver, and I took out the fifty taels and laid them on the table. He tucked the silver into the front of his robe and said the silver was wearing down my luck7, and once I gave it to him I’d have nothing wrong with me. Then he told me to go. I asked for my silver, and he wouldn’t give it back. So I grabbed him and brought him here to go to law.” The magistrate thought this very strange indeed. “Xu Jingkui, why did you cheat the holy monk of his silver?” “If it please Your Honour,” said Xu Jingkui, “this physician would never be so improper. I had household matters to see to and got up rather late. I had only just got up when I heard somebody shouting outside. I came out to look, and it was this monk. He asked me to see him, and when I did, there was nothing wrong with him. Then he said I was ill, that I had a bellyful of yin babies and ghost babies, and he said I was to come and go to law with him. I never saw any silver of his.” “Don’t go against your conscience,” said the monk. “You’ve got it tucked in your robe. If Your Honour doesn’t believe me, have him untie his silk cord and shake his robe out.” “Xu Jingkui, you have silver in your robe,” said His Honour. “I have not,” said Xu Jingkui. “If you haven’t,” said His Honour, “then shake it out.” Xu Jingkui did untie his silk cord, and when he shook his robe a wad of paper fell to the ground. Xu Jingkui was about to pick it up, but the monk reached out and picked it up first. “Your Honour, look.” His Honour unfolded the wad of paper and looked. It was a rough draft, ticked and dotted and smeared with corrections, and on it was written: