Now, Yang Meng hurried outside, and Chen Xiao came along after him. The two of them left the reception hall, looked out front, and sure enough it was Ji Gong. “Master,” they said, “what’s all this shouting and hollering about?” “I came here to wish the old lady a long life,” said Ji Gong, “and these fellows think I’m too ragged and won’t announce me.” “They’re a snobbish lot to begin with,” said Chen Xiao and Yang Meng. Zheng Xiong came out from inside as well, and seeing what a pauper the monk was, he said, “My worthy brothers, why aren’t you in the hall drinking tea? What brings you out here?” “Let us introduce you two,” said Yang Meng and Chen Xiao. “This reverend gentleman is the one I’m always telling you about, elder brother: Chan Master Ji Gong of Lingyin Temple.” “So you are the holy monk,” said Zheng Xiong. “I have long heard your great name. To meet you today is a blessing three lifetimes in the making.” “Today is the old lady’s birthday,” said the monk, “and I’ve come specially to pay my respects and bring a little birthday gift.” Zheng Xiong saw that the monk’s clothes were in rags; he looked like any beggar who goes about asking for food and alms. How could he invite him into the reception hall? Yet with Chen Xiao and Yang Meng looking on, how could he not invite him! While he was still in two minds, he heard the monk say, “I’ve come to bring a little gift and pay my respects. I can hardly go and sit in the reception hall. You’ve plenty of grand relatives and fine friends in there, and I’ve no clothes fit for it.” Zheng Xiong was secretly pleased to hear it, and could not help making a show of inviting him: “Since you have come, Reverend, you may as well make yourself at home. Please go in.” Yang Meng wanted Ji Gong to go in too, so they could check whether what Guanghui had said was true or false. “Since Lord Zheng invites me so kindly,” the monk said, “I can’t very well not go in. Wishing the old lady a long life is what matters.” Zheng Xiong could hardly stop him now, and came with the monk to the reception hall. The monk had the tea servants put an Eight Immortals table right in the middle of the room and spread it with scarlet felt. Ji Gong took out the dog meat and his other things, laid them on it and sat himself straight down in the seat of honour. Zheng Xiong’s eyes went fixed with rage, but in front of Chen Xiao and Yang Meng he could not well lose his temper. He even went over and thanked the monk, then told a servant to throw the things away. Of the people seated there, Ji Gong knew half. The tea servants set out wine and dishes, and Ji Gong stood up and went round every table pressing people to eat and drink, until he came to Guanghui. Guanghui sat there haughtily and said not a word. When he had gone round, Ji Gong went back to his seat and drank. Then Guanghui was heard to say, “Lord Zheng, I have come today, first, to wish your mother long life, and second, to honour the old lady with a conjuring show: things that fly in the sky, things that run on the ground, things that float in the river and things that hop in the grass. Go to the back and let her know. I’ll do my tricks here, and the old lady will see them back there.” “Very well,” said Zheng Xiong. He went to the back, where the ladies of all the relatives and friends were keeping the old lady company. “Mother,” said Zheng Xiong, “the monk Guanghui from Sanqing Shrine wants to do some conjuring tricks for you to watch.” At this the old lady was so angry that her colour changed. “You and that monk are making fun of me! Tell the baldpate to clear out! My eyes have been ruined these two years, and you ask me to watch conjuring tricks!” Only then did Zheng Xiong regret it. “Don’t be angry, Mother,” he said quickly. “Your son forgot for a moment.” Several of the lady relatives and friends beside her all said, “Aunt, do tell him to do some for us to watch.” And some of the young ladies said, “Granny, tell him to do some for us.” Only then did the old lady say, “Zheng Xiong, tell him to go ahead.” So Zheng Xiong went back to the reception hall. “Reverend Master, go ahead with your tricks.” Guanghui asked for a pair of scissors and a sheet of paper and cut out a great many butterflies. He did have some real skill. Muttering a spell under his breath, he blew a puff of magic breath, and pair after pair of butterflies flew straight off toward the back hall. Everyone cheered as one. Yang Meng and Chen Xiao said together, “Master, you show us a trick or two as well.” Ji Gong stood up and bawled, “I’m going to do tricks too!” Having bawled it, he said, “Om mani padme hum! Om! By command — he!1” Thirty-odd little snakes went flying wildly all over the hall. Everyone was startled, and when they looked down, their chopsticks were all gone. The whole hall roared with laughter. Ji Gong pointed, the snakes vanished, and there was a pair of chopsticks in front of each person. Everyone marvelled. Guanghui saw them all praising Ji Gong and felt he had lost face. “Lord Zheng,” he said, “let me honour the old lady with a bowl of soup.” He stood up, asked for a cloth wrapper and spread it over the table. Muttering a spell under his breath, he whisked the cloth away, and there was a big bowl of three-delicacies soup. As though someone were carrying it, it floated off, drifting and swaying, toward the door. Ji Gong pointed, and the bowl of soup turned over right above Guanghui’s head and splashed all over him; his scalp was scalded red. Everyone clapped and roared with laughter. Guanghui wiped himself off in a huff. “Gentlemen,” he said, “what I really meant to do today was show my powers before you all, and conjure up some immortal peaches2 as a gift for the old lady.” Everyone thought it over: it was the fourth month. Last year’s peaches were long gone and the new ones not yet grown, the lean time between the old crop and the new. This would be something rare. Guanghui had just started on his spell when Ji Gong came over. “When you’ve conjured them up, don’t lift the cloth. I can guess what’s under it.” “Very well,” said Guanghui, and he chanted:

“A plate of longevity peaches I offer in the hall,offered to the ageless immortal of the hall;today I conjure up the hibiscus fruit —may her years outrun the peaches, one and all.”

When he finished, the cloth could be seen bulging up. “What you said isn’t right,” said Ji Gong. “So I’m not right,” said Guanghui. “You say it, then.” Ji Gong said:

“A plate of black fruit I offer in the hall,offered to the ageless immortal of the hall;today I conjure up the fruit that comes with a handle3:stew it with mutton, dip it in vinegar and garlic, that’s all.”

Guanghui lifted the cloth and looked: four eggplants. The whole hall roared with laughter, and Guanghui went red to the ears with shame. Zheng Xiong, afraid Guanghui would feel humiliated, told a servant to take them out. The servant, Zheng Fu, carried them out of the main hall and looked: four big peaches. “That wretch, how infuriating!” he said. “I’ll carry them back in and let everyone see.” But when he got to the reception hall and everyone looked, they were still eggplants. “Zheng Fu, have you gone mad?” said Zheng Xiong. “What did you bring them back for?” Zheng Fu turned and stalked off in a temper, and outside they were big peaches again. “Then these must be meant for me to eat,” he thought. He was just about to eat one when Ji Gong came out after him. “Zheng Fu, what are you up to?” “The man conjured up peaches,” said Zheng Fu. “What trick did you use to disguise them? I’m going to eat this peach.” Ji Gong pointed. “Go ahead and eat it.” Zheng Fu picked one up and bit into it, and chipped his teeth: it was a wooden peach. “Take them in for the old lady to eat,” said Ji Gong. Zheng Fu took them in, and when the old lady bit into one, juice ran down from her mouth. “That’s strange,” thought Zheng Fu. He turned and came back out. Ji Gong saw Guanghui sitting there without a word. “Lord Zheng,” said Ji Gong, “today I’m going to do a trick, and I’ll have the old lady see it plain and clear.” The arhat was about to work the Buddha’s Law and show his divine powers to the full.