Seeing them, Sanzang stood respectfully beside the gate and offered a greeting. The monk hurried to return it and said with a smile, “Forgive me for not welcoming you sooner. Where have you come from? Please come to the abbot’s quarters for tea.” Sanzang said, “Your disciple is an imperial envoy from the Eastern Land, going to the Thunderclap Monastery to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. Daylight is fading as we reach this place, and we would like to ask for one night’s lodging in your honoured monastery.” The monk said, “Please come in and sit down, please come in.” Sanzang then called Pilgrim to lead the horse inside. Suddenly catching sight of Pilgrim’s face, the monk grew a little frightened and asked, “What sort of thing is that leading the horse?” Sanzang said, “Keep your voice down, keep it down. He has a quick temper. If he hears you ask what sort of thing he is, he will be angry. He is my disciple.” The monk shuddered and bit his finger. “With that hideous head and monstrous face, how could you take him as a disciple?” Sanzang said, “You cannot tell by looking. Ugly he may be, but he is very useful.”

The monk had no choice but to go through the mountain gate with Sanzang and Pilgrim. Inside, they saw four large characters written above the main hall: “Guanyin Chan Monastery.” Sanzang was delighted again. “Your disciple has received the Bodhisattva’s sacred kindness many times, yet has had no chance to bow in thanks. Coming upon her monastery is like seeing the Bodhisattva herself. This is a fine chance to worship and thank her.” At these words the monk told an attendant to open the hall doors and invited Sanzang to worship. Pilgrim tethered the horse, dropped the luggage and went into the hall with him. Sanzang stretched himself out, laid his chest against the ground and bowed his head before the golden image. The monk went to beat the drum; Pilgrim went to strike the bell. Prostrate before the altar, Sanzang prayed with all his heart. When the prayers and bows were finished, the monk stopped drumming, but Pilgrim kept ringing the bell without a pause, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, and went on for a long while. The attendant said, “The worship is over. Why are you still ringing the bell?” Only then did Pilgrim drop the bell striker and say with a laugh, “What do you know? I am doing as they say: ‘A monk for a day, a bell-ringer for a day4.’” By now the unruly clanging had alarmed all the monks in the monastery, great and small, and the elders of every range of cells. They came crowding out together, calling, “What wild man is here banging our bells and drums?” Pilgrim leapt out and barked, “Your Grandpa Sun was ringing it for fun!” At the sight of him the monks stumbled and tumbled in fright, then sprawled on the ground crying, “Grandfather Thunder God!” Pilgrim said, “The Thunder God is my great-grandson! Get up, get up. Do not be afraid. We are honoured visitors from the Great Tang in the Eastern Land.” Only then did the monks bow to them. When they saw Sanzang, their fears were finally set at rest. The monastery’s abbot was among them and said, “Honoured sirs, please come to the abbot’s quarters at the back for tea.” They loosened the reins and led away the horse, lifted the luggage, went round the main hall and straight into the rooms behind it, where they took their seats in order of precedence.

The monks said, “Grandmaster7 has come.” Sanzang bent low in greeting. “Venerable abbot, your disciple pays his respects.” The old monk returned the greeting, and they all took their seats again. “The youngsters told me just now that honoured visitors had come from the Tang dynasty in the Eastern Land,” he said, “so I came out to meet you.” Sanzang said, “We have rashly intruded upon your precious mountain, knowing nothing of proper manners. Forgive us, forgive us.” The old monk said, “Not at all, not at all.” Then he asked, “Venerable sir, how far is it from the Eastern Land to here?” Sanzang said, “After leaving the borders of Chang’an, we travelled over five thousand li. At Two Realms Mountain I took on my humble disciple. Since then we have travelled through the western foreign kingdom of Habi for two months, another five or six thousand li, before reaching your honoured home.” The old monk said, “That makes a journey of ten thousand li. Your disciple has wasted his whole life and never even gone beyond the mountain gate. Truly, I am one who ‘sits in a well and looks at the sky’, a piece of rotten, useless timber.” Sanzang asked, “And what is your honoured age, venerable abbot?” The old monk said, “I have foolishly lived to two hundred and seventy.” Hearing this, Pilgrim said, “He is still my grandson ten thousand generations down!” Sanzang shot him a look. “Mind your words. Do not forget your manners and offend people.” The monk asked, “And how old are you, sir?” Pilgrim said, “I would not dare say.”

The old monk merely took this for a piece of mad talk. He paid it no mind, asked no more and called for tea. A young serving boy brought out a tray of mutton-fat jade with three gold-rimmed enamel teacups on it. Another boy brought a white-copper pot and poured three cups of fragrant tea. Truly, its colour outshone the brilliance of pomegranate blossoms, and its flavour surpassed the fragrance of osmanthus. At the sight Sanzang praised and admired it without end. “Fine things, fine things! Such fine refreshment in such fine vessels.” The old monk said, “Unworthy of your eyes, unworthy of your eyes. You come from the great Celestial Empire and have seen rare treasures in abundance. How can utensils like these deserve such praise? Since you come from that exalted land, venerable sir, have you some treasure you might let your disciple see?” Sanzang said, “Alas, there are no great treasures in our Eastern Land. Even if there were, the road is too long to bring them.” Pilgrim said from beside him, “Master, the other day I saw that cassock in the bundle. Is that not a treasure? Why not take it out for him to see?” At the mention of a cassock, every monk gave a sneering laugh. “What are you laughing at?” Pilgrim asked. The abbot said, “You just called a cassock a treasure, sir. That is truly laughable. As for cassocks, men like us have more than twenty or thirty apiece. And our Grandmaster, who has been a monk here for two hundred and fifty or sixty years, has a good seven or eight hundred.” He called, “Bring them out for a look.” The old monk, too, had a sudden wish to show off. He told the attendants to open the storeroom and the ascetic monks to carry out the chests. Twelve chests were brought into the courtyard and unlocked. Clothes stands were set up on either side and ropes strung all round. The cassocks were shaken out one by one and hung up for Sanzang to inspect. Sure enough, embroidered silks filled the hall, and fine damasks and gauzes lined all four walls.

At the sight of such a treasure, the old monk did indeed conceive a wicked desire. He went forward and knelt before Sanzang, tears falling from his eyes. “Your disciple truly has no blessed affinity.” Sanzang helped him up. “What do you mean, venerable abbot?” He said, “You have only just unfolded this treasure, venerable sir, and daylight has faded. Alas, my eyes are dim and I cannot see it clearly. Does that not mean I have no blessed affinity?” Sanzang said, “Bring lamps, and let him look again.” The old monk said, “Your precious treasure is bright enough already, sir. Lamps would only dazzle my eyes still more. I could never examine it closely.” Pilgrim said, “How would you like to look at it, then?” The old monk said, “If you would be gracious enough to trust your disciple, venerable sir, let me take it to my rooms at the back and study it carefully all night. Tomorrow morning I shall return it before you leave for the west. What is your honoured opinion?” Sanzang was startled and blamed Pilgrim. “This is all your doing, all your doing!” Pilgrim laughed. “What is there to fear from him? Let me wrap it up and give it to him to look at. If anything goes wrong, Old Sun will put it right.” Sanzang could not stop him. He handed the cassock to the old monk and said, “Look as much as you please. Only return it to me tomorrow morning just as it is, without the slightest damage or stain.” Delighted, the old monk told a serving boy to take the cassock inside. Then he ordered the monks to sweep the meditation hall at the front, bring two rattan beds and lay out the bedding, so that their two honoured guests could rest. At the same time he had them arrange a vegetarian meal for their departure next morning. Everyone dispersed, and master and disciple shut the meditation hall and went to bed. Let us leave them there for now.

Now, having wheedled the cassock into his hands, the old monk took it under a lamp in his rooms at the back and wailed over it, weeping bitterly. This so alarmed the monks that they dared not go to bed before him. The young serving boy did not know the reason either. He went to tell the monks, “Grandfather is still crying at the second watch10, and has not stopped.” Two of his favourite disciple-grandsons came forward and asked, “Grandmaster, why are you crying?” The old monk said, “I am crying because I have no blessed affinity to look upon the Tang Monk’s treasure.” A young monk said, “Grandfather, your great age has muddled your wits. His cassock is right in front of you. You need only unwrap it and look. Why weep so bitterly?” The old monk said, “I cannot look at it for long. I am two hundred and seventy this year, and all those hundreds of cassocks I have amassed are worth nothing. How can I get one like his? How can I become a Tang Monk?” The young monk said, “You are mistaken, Grandmaster. The Tang Monk is a wandering monk who has left his native home. At your age you have enjoyed quite enough comforts already. Why should you want to wander like him?” The old monk said, “Though I sit at home at ease, enjoying my later years, I cannot wear that cassock of his. If I could wear it for even one day, I could die with my eyes closed, content that I had lived as a monk in this world of the living.” The monks said, “What nonsense! If you want to wear his cassock, what is so difficult? Tomorrow we can keep him here another day, and you can wear it for a day. Keep him here ten days, and you can wear it ten days. That is all you need. Why cry like this?” The old monk said, “Even if we kept him here a year, I could only wear it a year. That would still not last. When he wanted to leave, I would have to let him take it. How could I keep it for ever?”

As they were talking, a young monk named Guangzhi stepped forward. “If Grandfather wants to keep it for ever, that is easy too.” The old monk brightened at once. “My child, what clever notion have you?” Guangzhi said, “Those two travelling monks have had a very tiring journey, and by now they are asleep. We can choose a few strong men, take spears and sabres, open the meditation hall and kill them. Bury their bodies in the back garden, and only our own family will know. Then we can take their white horse and baggage too, and keep the cassock as a family heirloom. Would that not provide for our descendants for ever?” At these words the old monk was delighted. Only now did he wipe away his tears. “Good, good, good! A splendid plan.” They immediately began gathering spears and sabres.

Among them was another young monk named Guangmou, Guangzhi’s junior brother in the teaching. He came forward and said, “That plan is no good. If we mean to kill them, we must first see how matters stand. The pale-faced one looks easy enough, but the hairy-faced one looks difficult. What if we fail to kill him and bring disaster on ourselves instead? I have a way that needs neither spear nor sabre. I wonder what your honoured opinion would be.” The old monk said, “My child, what is your method?” Guangmou said, “Your little grandson thinks we should summon all the monks from the large and small ranges of cells on the eastern hill and ask each for a bundle of dry firewood. Sacrifice that three-room meditation hall and set it alight. Give them no way to escape and burn them and their horse together. Even if the households in front of the mountain and behind it see, we can say that the visitors were careless, started a fire and burned down our meditation hall. Would that not burn both monks to death? It would conceal the truth as well. And would the cassock not become our family heirloom?” At this every monk was delighted. “Excellent, excellent, excellent! An even better plan, even better!” They ordered every range of cells to bring firewood. Alas! This scheme would indeed bring the long-lived old monk to the end of his allotted life, and turn Guanyin Chan Monastery into dust. Now, that monastery had seventy or eighty ranges of cells, with more than two hundred monks of all ranks. That night they rushed out together to carry wood, piling it all round the meditation hall, front and back and on every side, until no way through remained. They prepared to set it alight. Let us leave them there for now.

He saw the monks carrying firewood and straw. They had already surrounded the meditation hall and were setting it alight. Pilgrim laughed to himself. “Just as my Master said! They want to kill us and take my cassock, and so they have hatched this wicked scheme. I could take my cudgel and beat them, but the poor things could never stand it. One beating would kill the lot, and then Master would blame me for violence again. Very well, very well, very well! I’ll make the most of it and play them at their own game. Let them be left with nowhere to live!”

A fine Pilgrim! With one somersault he leapt inside the Southern Gate of Heaven. Pang, Liu, Gou and Bi bent low in alarm; Ma, Zhao, Wen and Guan bowed their backs. They all cried, “Trouble, trouble! The fellow who made havoc in the Heavenly Palace is here again!” Pilgrim waved his hands. “No ceremony, gentlemen. Do not be alarmed. I have come to find Heavenly King Virupaksha11.” Before he had finished, the Heavenly King was there to greet him. “It has been a long time, a long time! I heard that the Bodhisattva Guanyin went to the Jade Emperor and asked for the Four Merit Officers of the Watches, the Six Ding and Six Jia, the Guardians and others to protect the Tang Monk on his journey to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures. They said you had become his disciple. How have you found time to come here today?” Pilgrim said, “Never mind exchanging greetings. The Tang Monk has met wicked men on the road who have set a fire to burn him to death. It is desperately urgent. I have come expressly to borrow your fire-warding cover and save him. Bring it quickly and let me use it. I shall return it at once.” The Heavenly King said, “You are mistaken. If wicked men have set a fire, you should borrow water to save him. Why ask for the fire-warding cover?” Pilgrim said, “What do you know of the matter? If I saved him with water, the fire could not burn, and those fellows would be let off cheaply. I only want this cover to keep the Tang Monk unharmed. As for the rest, let it all burn! Quickly, quickly! It may already be too late. Do not delay my business down below.” The Heavenly King laughed. “This monkey still has such wicked thoughts! He looks after his own and cares nothing for anyone else.” Pilgrim said, “Hurry, hurry! Stop your banter, or you will spoil everything.” The Heavenly King dared not refuse the loan and handed the cover to Pilgrim.

Unexpectedly, the outbreak of fire disturbed a beast monster in the mountains. About twenty li due south of Guanyin Monastery stood Black Wind Mountain. On the mountain was Black Wind Cave, and in the cave a demon was just waking and turning over in his sleep. Seeing light pour through the window, he thought it was dawn. But when he got up to look, it was the glow of a fire due north. The demon was startled. “Ah! There must be a fire at Guanyin Monastery. How careless those monks are! I shall go and help put it out.” A fine demon! He sprang onto a cloud and at once reached the smoke and flames. Sure enough, fire shot into the sky. The halls at the front were gone, and both rows of corridors were blazing. With great strides he barged inside, calling for water. Then he saw that the rooms at the back were free of fire, and someone was on the roof ridge stirring up wind. Understanding what was happening, he hurried inside to look. In the abbot’s quarters he saw rosy beams and coloured radiance, and a blue felt bundle lay on the table. He unwrapped it and found a brocade cassock, a rare treasure of the Buddhist faith. Truly, wealth stirs the heart. He no longer fought the fire, nor called for water. He took the cassock, robbed them amid the uproar, retraced his steps on the clouds and went straight back towards the eastern mountain.

The fire burned until dawn in the fifth watch before it finally died out. Look at the monks, stark naked, weeping and wailing, searching the ashes for copper and iron, raking through charred wood and scrabbling for gold and silver! Some put up makeshift shelters inside the shells of walls; some set cooking pots at the foot of the bare walls to make a meal. They cried out at their wrongs and grievances, shouting and clamouring in confusion. Let us leave them there for now.

Meanwhile, Pilgrim took the fire-warding cover and carried it to the Southern Gate of Heaven with one somersault. He handed it to Heavenly King Virupaksha. “Thank you for the loan, thank you.” The Heavenly King accepted it. “You are most faithful, Great Sage. I was worrying that you would not return my treasure, and I would have nowhere to go to ask for it. How glad I am that you have brought it back!” Pilgrim said, “Is Old Sun the sort to cheat a man out of something to his face? As they say, ‘Borrow well and return well, and borrowing again is no trouble.’” The Heavenly King said, “We have not met for so long. Why not come to my palace and sit a little while?” Pilgrim said, “Old Sun is different from before. No more wearing out benches with endless talk! Now I protect the Tang Monk and have no time to spare. Another time, another time.” He hurriedly took his leave and descended on his cloud. The Sun Star was rising. He went straight to the meditation hall, shook his body and changed into a honeybee, then flew inside. When he resumed his own form and looked, his Master was still fast asleep.

Pilgrim called, “Master, it is daylight. Get up.” Only then did Sanzang wake and turn over. “So it is.” He dressed, opened the door and came outside. Raising his head, he saw nothing but fallen masonry and reddened walls. The towers, terraces and halls were gone. He cried in alarm, “Ah! Why have all the halls vanished? Why is there nothing but red walls?” Pilgrim said, “You are still dreaming. There was a fire last night.” Sanzang said, “Why did I know nothing of it?” Pilgrim said, “Old Sun protected the meditation hall. Seeing you fast asleep, Master, I did not wake you.” Sanzang said, “If you had the power to protect the meditation hall, why did you not put out the fires in the other rooms?” Pilgrim laughed. “You should know, Master, that it happened just as you said yesterday. They fell in love with our cassock and plotted to burn us to death. If Old Sun had not noticed, by now we would be nothing but ash and bones.” Frightened at this, Sanzang said, “They set the fire?” Pilgrim said, “Who else?” Sanzang said, “Could it be that they slighted you, and you did this yourself?” Pilgrim said, “Is Old Sun such a rogue that he would do something so wicked? They set it themselves, that is the truth. Seeing how poisonous their hearts were, Old Sun certainly did not help them put it out. I only gave them a little help with the wind.” Sanzang said, “Heaven above, Heaven above! When a fire starts, you should help with water. Why help with wind instead?” Pilgrim said, “Do you not know what the ancients said? ‘If a man has no thought of harming a tiger, the tiger has no thought of harming the man.’ If they had not made a fire, why would I have made a wind?” Sanzang said, “Where is the cassock? Has it been burned?” Pilgrim said, “It is safe, safe. It could not burn. The abbot’s quarters where they put it were untouched.” Sanzang said angrily, “I do not care what you say. If it has suffered the slightest damage, I shall only have to recite those words a few times, and you will be dead.” Alarmed, Pilgrim said, “Do not recite them, Master, do not! I promise to find your cassock and give it back. Let me fetch it so that we can go on.” Only then did Sanzang lead the horse and Pilgrim shoulder the luggage. They left the meditation hall and went straight to the abbot’s quarters at the back.

Now, in the midst of their grief, the monks suddenly saw master and disciple coming towards them, leading the horse and carrying the luggage. Every one of them was frightened out of his wits. “Wronged ghosts have come to claim our lives!” Pilgrim shouted, “What wronged ghosts claiming lives? Give me back my cassock, quickly!” All the monks fell to their knees and knocked their heads on the ground. “Grandfather! Every wrong has its wrongdoer, every debt its debtor. If you have come to claim lives, it has nothing to do with us. Guangmou and the old monk planned to kill you. Do not ask us to pay with our lives!” Pilgrim barked, “You damned beasts! Who is asking you for any lives? Just bring back the cassock so I can go!” Two of the bolder monks said, “Sir, you were burned to death in the meditation hall, and now you have come back asking for your cassock. Are you really men, or ghosts?” Pilgrim laughed. “You wicked beasts, what fire are you talking about? Go and look at the meditation hall at the front, then come back and speak.” The monks got up and went to look. Not even the doors, windows or lattice panels on the outside of the meditation hall had been singed in the slightest. Filled with awe and fear, they realized that Sanzang was a holy monk and Pilgrim a guardian of the Dharma. They all came forward and bowed their heads to the ground. “We have eyes but no sight, and failed to recognize perfected beings come down to earth. Your cassock is with our old Grandmaster in the abbot’s quarters at the back.” Sanzang passed through three or five rows of ruined masonry and broken walls, sighing without cease. Sure enough, the abbot’s quarters were untouched by fire. The monks rushed inside, calling, “Grandfather, the Tang Monk is a divine being and has not been burned to death! Now we have only destroyed our own property. Bring out the cassock quickly and let him take it away.”

Pilgrim was furious. He went into the abbot’s quarters, carried out the corpse of the wretch who had dashed himself to death, stripped it and examined it closely. Nowhere on his body was that treasure. He even dug three feet down into the floor of the abbot’s quarters, but there was no trace. Pilgrim pondered a while, then asked, “Are there any demons or creatures that have become spirits around here?” The abbot said, “If you had not asked, sir, you would never have known. Due southeast of here is Black Wind Mountain. In Black Wind Cave lives a Great Black King (Hei Dawang). That dead old devil of ours often discussed the Way with him, and he is a demon. There are no others.” Pilgrim said, “How far away is that mountain?” The abbot said, “Only twenty li. It is that peak you can see over there.” Pilgrim laughed. “Set your mind at rest, Master. Say no more. That black monster must have stolen it. There is no doubt.” Sanzang said, “His home is twenty li from here. How can you be certain it was he?” Pilgrim said, “You did not see last night’s fire. Its light blazed for ten thousand li and shone through the Three Heavens. Never mind twenty li: it could have been seen two hundred li away. Surely he saw the brilliant glow and seized his chance to slip in here. When he saw that our cassock was a treasure, he must have snatched it amid the confusion. Let Old Sun go and look for him.” Sanzang said, “If you go, what shall I rely on?” Pilgrim said, “Do not worry about that. Divine spirits already guard you unseen. For what can be seen, I shall order these monks to wait on you.” He called the monks over. “Send a few of you to bury that old devil. Let a few wait on my Master and look after my white horse.” The monks agreed. Pilgrim added, “Do not just say yes now, then stop attending him once I have gone. Those looking after my Master must keep pleasant faces and good humour. Those tending the white horse must give him water and fodder in the proper amounts. If you fall short by so much as a hair, I shall show you what this cudgel can do.” He drew out the cudgel and struck a fire-scorched brick wall with a crash. The wall shattered to powder, and the shock brought down seven or eight more rows of walls. Seeing this, every monk went weak in the bones and numb in the body. They knelt and knocked their heads on the ground, tears falling as they said, “Go with an easy heart, Grandfather. We shall serve the venerable Master with all our strength and devotion, and never dare neglect him in the slightest.”

But would he find the cassock there, and what good fortune or ill awaited him? To learn what happened next, read the next chapter.