Now, Dong Ping was about to kill the dog when he saw the puppy lying across the big dog’s neck, its tears falling and falling. Dong Ping stood stunned for a long while. “Even a dog knows where its body came from,” he thought, “let alone me, born a human being.” He let the big dog and the puppy go. “I won’t kill you after all. If you two, mother and pup, want to stay here with me, I’ll have food and water to keep you. If you don’t, go wherever you like.”

He went into the house, knelt before his mother and said, “Your son has often been rude to you, Mother, and I deserve ten thousand deaths for it.” “As long as you do right by Mother and serve her as a son should,” said Madam Han, “the two of us, husband and wife, are sure to be blessed for it.” “Today I’ll sell off this pot of dog meat,” said Dong Ping, “and tomorrow I’ll change trades and set up some small business. I’m done with this trade out of a basin of blood.” He shouldered the dog meat and went out. Any other day he would carry it out and sell the lot in no time, but today he walked a dozen alleys and more without a single sale. When he reached the spirit screen1 in front of Yuhuang Pavilion on Qiantangjiang Street, his belly began to ache, and he set his load of meat down in the road. Just then a ragged monk came along from the east and asked, “Whose load of meat is this?” Dong Ping said nothing. “Yesterday on the main street he begged two pieces of dog meat off me for nothing,” he thought, “and today he’s back asking again. I won’t answer him. Let’s see what he does.” Ji Gong saw that Dong Ping’s whole face was dark with a black aura. He looked into it by his inner light and knew that this was the world’s foremost “filial son.” “If I don’t save him, the thunder will surely take him.”

A word of explanation: how could Dong Ping be the most filial son in the world? The morality books2 say: suppose a man has done good deeds for half his life, and then he does one wicked thing. The books record him as the foremost of wicked men, and all the good of his half a lifetime is wiped out. Suppose another man has done wicked deeds for half his life, and suddenly he sees for himself that it is wrong: “I must change, or I’ll suffer retribution.” If he truly turns from his faults to goodness and thoroughly mends his ways, all his past wickedness is struck off, and the books record him as the foremost of good men. A widow who loses her chastity is not the equal of an old prostitute who reforms and marries3. Dong Ping had not been dutiful to his mother, but he had suddenly seen his error and repented, and meant to serve his mother as a son should. It came from a heart wholly sincere, without a speck of pretence, and that made him the foremost of filial sons. Ji Gong asked whose load of meat it was, asked twice, and no one answered, so Ji Gong picked up the load and ran. When Dong Ping saw that, he panicked. He jumped up, fastened his trousers and set off after him. He had barely started running when he heard a crash behind him, as if mountains were falling and the earth splitting open. Half of the spirit-screen wall had come down. Dong Ping stood frozen with fright. “If that monk hadn’t grabbed my load,” he said to himself, “I’d have been crushed to death under that wall long since. That was close, too close!”

A word of explanation: the monk had said the thunder would take him, so how could being crushed by a wall count as a thunder doom? There’s a common saying, “Struck by heaven, split by lightning, blasted by the Five Thunders4.” Does heaven really strike five thunderbolts? It turns out that metal, wood, water, fire and earth are what are called the Five Thunders. To be cut down with a blade is called metal thunder, to be beaten to death with a club is wood thunder, to drown is water thunder, to burn to death is fire thunder, and to be crushed under an earthen wall is earth thunder. To be struck down by real thunder from heaven, a man must be guilty of the very worst crimes. But enough of that. “I’ll go and find the monk,” Dong Ping thought, “and ask for my load back. And I ought to thank him too.” With that he set off. Ji Gong, meanwhile, had carried the load to a busy street. He set it down, took the knife and began cutting up the dog meat. When he had finished, the monk pointed at it, and each piece of dog meat seemed to grow to a full catty5. Ji Gong cried his wares: six coppers a piece. People walking by caught the smell of the dog meat from far off, and it went straight up their noses. Even people who never ate dog meat saw how big and fragrant the pieces were today, and so cheap besides. One bought three pieces, another five, another eight or ten, and in the blink of an eye he had taken in a heap of cash. When the meat was nearly gone and only a few pieces were left, the monk stopped selling.

Those who had missed out were sorry. “What a shame! Dog meat that cheap, and I was too late to get any. I could kick myself.” One man had bought four pieces and was delighted. “These must be a full catty apiece,” he thought. Every couple of steps he sniffed them. As the saying goes, and it isn’t wrong: cheap meat gets a sniff. He thought he would give two pieces to the missus at home and use the other two to look up his big brother, ask his kid brother along and have a bit of a drink. He sniffed, walked a couple of steps, opened the wrapping and looked: each piece was down to about half a catty. “Were my eyes playing tricks when I picked them?” he thought. “They looked like a catty apiece to me.” He was puzzled. He walked a couple more steps and looked again: each piece was down to four ounces. A few steps more and he looked: the four pieces together didn’t come to four ounces. “That monk has cheated me today,” the buyer thought, and went home in a huff. Meanwhile Ji Gong had taken in a heap of cash, and the dog meat was nearly gone. Dong Ping caught up with him. “Monk, this load of meat is mine. I’ve come to make things clear with you. If you hadn’t grabbed my load today, I’d have been crushed to death under that wall. I really ought to thank you.” Ji Gong rolled his eyes up at him. “Right. This morning, first thing, I suppose you didn’t bicker with your mother.”

When Dong Ping heard the monk say this, he was taken aback. “Monk,” he asked quickly, “which temple are you from?” Ji Gong told him, this and that, and said to Dong Ping, “Take the money from this sale and set yourself up in some small business with it.” “Tomorrow I’m changing trades,” said Dong Ping. “No more of this business of taking life. I’ll sell fresh fruit.” “Good,” said Ji Gong. “Take the load and the money, all of it. These few pieces of dog meat are all I want.” Dong Ping thanked the monk. Ji Gong bundled the dog meat up in the front of his robe and set off along the Su Causeway by West Lake, singing a wild song that came to him as he went. The song went:

Singing his wild song along the Su Causeway by West Lake, Ji Gong passed Lengquan Pavilion and came to the main gate of Lingyin Temple on Feilai Peak. Jingming and Jing’an, the monks who kept the gate, said, “Master Ji, what’s that you’re carrying?” “It’s dog meat I’ve brought,” said Ji Gong. “Want some, you two?” “No,” said Jing’an and Jingming. “We two keep a vegetarian diet, and you can’t bring it into the temple either. This temple of ours is strictly vegetarian: no meat or wine may come in. Not even a birdcage or a bird on a perch is allowed inside, and you want to carry a load of bones in here, stinking to high heaven? It won’t do. Throw it away, quick. You’ve broken the precepts!” “I didn’t know,” said Ji Gong. “I’m sore and itchy all over. My scabies must have broken out again9.” As he spoke, the monk bent his head and searched all over his body. “Not scabies breaking out on your body,” said Jingming. “You’ve broken the monastic rules and precepts that bind us monks. A monk who has left home must keep the Three Refuges10 and the Five Precepts.” “What are the Three Refuges?” said Ji Gong. “And what are the Five Precepts? Tell me.” “What a pity,” said Jingming. “You’re a monk, and you don’t even know the Three Refuges and the Five Precepts. For us monks who have left home, the Three Refuges are the rule of the Buddha, the rule of the Dharma and the rule of the Sangha. The Five Precepts are against killing, stealing, lust, lying and wine. Hurry up and throw that dog meat away. If it gets into the temple, even we two will be guilty of letting it past. And if the prior sees it, there’ll be blame on him too.” “What do you two know?” said Ji Gong. “Don’t spoil my fun. I’m taking it into the temple to give the prior some dog meat to eat.” The two gate monks did not dare stop him and let him go.

Inside, Ji Gong set the dog meat down in front of the Main Hall, sat beside it and called out, “Anyone who wants meat, come and buy!” A dozen or more monks gathered. The kind-hearted ones among them said, “Master Ji, stop selling. If the old abbot or the prior finds out, you’ll certainly be punished.” “Never you mind,” said Ji Gong. Standing by were monks who hated Ji Gong, and they said, “You sell away. Who’d dare stop you?” Ji Gong paid them no heed. Then the prior, Guangliang, came over from the other side. “Crazy Ji, if you want to sell dog meat, I won’t interfere. If you want to slaughter a couple of dogs, I won’t interfere either. I just want to ask you: what time do you think it’s got to today? Ever since the Great Stele Tower11 burned down, you’ve been sent out to beg for alms. So I’m asking you: what about the ten thousand taels of silver for the building work?” “Ten thousand I don’t have,” said Ji Gong, “but I do have nine thousand.” “I’m not going to fool around with you,” said Guangliang. “I’m taking you to see the old abbot.” “Not so fast,” said Ji Gong. “When the Great Stele Tower burned, the time I talked with you was right on noon. It’s still two hours short of that now. If in a little while I don’t have ten thousand taels of silver, then I’ll go with you to see the old abbot.” “Fine,” said Guangliang. “You can have two hours more. I’d like to see where you’ll get ten thousand taels of silver from.” The prior Guangliang was just about to go when two gate monks came in from the other side, and one of them reached out and caught hold of him. “Master Guang, there’s something strange going on outside. We two were sitting at the main gate when two or three hundred people came along the main road from West Lake: officials, gentry and rich householders among them, and merchants and traders too. At the head of them rode two squires on horseback, finely dressed. One had a pale face and a long beard; the other had a striking, unusual look. Each had twenty or thirty servants with him. When they reached the main gate, they called the two of us over and asked, ‘Is this Lingyin Temple?’ We said, ‘It is.’ The two of them asked, ‘Is the living Buddha in the temple?’ We said, ‘There’s no living Buddha in our temple.’ The two squires asked again, ‘Is the arhat in the temple?’ I said, ‘In the Arhat Hall we have five hundred and eight gilded arhats. Which one are you two gentlemen burning incense to?’ The two squires said, ‘We’re not looking for a clay statue. We’re looking for a living arhat.’ We said, ‘There isn’t one.’ The two squires said, ‘Our pious offerings have come at a bad time. We’ll go and give our alms somewhere else.’ We said, ‘Squires, don’t go. What is this living Buddha’s name, then?’ The two of them said, ‘Whoever speaks the living Buddha’s name loses ten years of life.’ We two said, ‘Tell us the living Buddha’s name, squires, and we’ll lose the years for you.’ The two of us first kowtowed and then said, ‘We two have lost thirty years of life. What do you think of that?’ ” “So who is the living Buddha?” said the prior. “You two aren’t making yourselves clear.” “No,” said Jingming, “we two can’t say any more. Every fortune-teller who’s cast my eight characters12 says I’ll live to fifty-three. I’m twenty-two this year, and just now I lost thirty years. Sooner or later, next year I’m sure to die. If I say it again, there are no years left to take it out of.” “Never mind,” said the prior. “Go on, tell me. I’ll lose ten years of life for the two of you.” Calm and unhurried, the monk Jingming spoke the name of the living Buddha.

To learn what happened next, read the next chapter.