Now, Ji Gong had come to Shihang County and spoken of raising alms to rebuild Wanyuan Bridge. “Holy monk,” said Xu Zhiping, “since you’ve offered to raise the alms, why go round collecting them yourself? There are ten wealthy gentry families in my district. If each family gives a thousand taels of silver, that will be enough to rebuild the bridge.” The monk laughed aloud. “Don’t trouble yourself, Your Honour. I have my own way of doing it.”

While they were talking, the two young monks arrived and waited outside on Ji Gong. The magistrate at once gave orders for Guanghui to be brought in and released him there in open court. “Ji Gong has come in person to plead for you,” said Xu Zhiping, “and out of regard for Ji Gong, this court is letting you go. From now on, each of you keep to the monastic rules. Ji Gong will raise the alms for Wanyuan Bridge on your behalf, so you won’t be needed. You may go.” “Zhiqing, Zhijing, don’t leave,” said Ji Gong. “I still need you.” The two young monks said they would stay. Guanghui thanked His Honour and went back to his temple on his own. Outside, the news set the whole place buzzing: everyone knew that the living Buddha Ji Gong had come to raise alms to rebuild Wanyuan Bridge. Here in the yamen the magistrate laid out wine to entertain the holy monk. They were in the middle of drinking when a runner came in from outside to report. “Ten gentlemen of the district have submitted a joint petition, Your Honour. Will you look it over?”

A word of explanation: outside, people had heard that Ji Gong had come. A man’s name goes before him the way a tree casts its shadow. Everybody passed the word along, until it reached the ears of the ten rich families. They talked it over together. “We must all go and see this living Buddha Ji Gong,” they said. “Since the old gentleman has come to raise alms to rebuild Wanyuan Bridge, let each of us put up a thousand taels of silver and build the bridge.” Once they had agreed, they wrote out a joint petition and came to see the magistrate. The runner brought it in and showed it to Xu Zhiping. “Holy monk,” said Xu Zhiping, “look: the ten gentlemen heard you had come, and of their own free will each family is giving a thousand taels to rebuild Wanyuan Bridge for your sake.” “When this monk raises alms,” said the monk, “I raise ten thousand taels, and I raise it from one family, not from ten. Ask them which one of them will give ten thousand taels on his own, and then this monk will take it.” “Holy monk,” said Xu Zhiping, “don’t offend them. These ten families are the only people with money around here. Nobody else could afford it. If you offend them, there will be no one left to give.” “Never mind,” said the monk. “In a while I’ll go to Xinglong Village and raise it from Millionaire Wang1 (Wang Baiwan).” “Holy monk,” said Xu Zhiping, “whatever you do, don’t go there! That Millionaire Wang is known to everyone as Wang the Good. Every winter he gives out gruel, and every summer cool tea and broth against the heat. He has contributed silver to the Emperor and bought himself the title of squire of the fifth rank2. But there’s one thing: what he hates most is monks and Daoists. He won’t feed monks and he won’t give to Daoists. He has had several cases in my court before this, all because monks or Daoists came begging alms. Not only did he give them nothing, he had them beaten and sent them to my yamen with his card3. Since he is a good man, I haven’t wanted to offend him either. Holy monk, you mustn’t go there on any account.” The monk laughed aloud. “Don’t you worry about me, Your Honour. This monk has to go there today. It’s precisely because he won’t give that this monk is going to ask him. I’m going to raise ten thousand taels from him, and he can’t give me nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. I’ll raise it today, and tomorrow the work starts. If this monk didn’t have that much skill, I wouldn’t have come. I’ll let you see for yourself, Your Honour. Zhiqing, Zhijing, come with me. Your Honour, we’ll talk again later.”