Adventures of the Mad Monk Ji Gong
Page 11
They all said, “This is very strange!” Then they heard behind them a man laughing at them. Headman Zhou turned his head and saw two of the headmen from another prefecture. One was named Tian Laibao, the other Wan Hengshan. These two were responsible to the same officer as the others. They were stout fellows and longtime friends of Headman Zhou. When they saw that Zhou and the others were unable to move the monk, one of them laughed and said: “All you fellows can do is eat. You have no business trying to quell disturbances with the rest of the head-men. Today something happens and you are not paying attention.”
When headman Zhou heard this, he said, “First of all, you two should not be so ready with your talk. If you two want to pull the monk up and along, we are willing to let you do it.”
Tian Laibao said, “If I cannot pull the monk up, I will drop the family name of Tian.”
Wan Hengshan said, “If I am unable to get the monk up and going, I will no longer eat my meals in the six-family village. Now, if you will just step aside…”
The others stepped back. They saw the two hitch up their pants, tighten their belts, and straighten their hats and clothing. Then the two stepped forward a few paces and fell on their knees before the monk, saying, “Respected sir, please stop distressing these people. Just look at them. If you will not go, the prime minister will be angry with them. He will talk to our boss, who will have to do something. We will then all be disciplined and discharged. The old and young in our homes will go hungry. I beg you, respected sir, to show compassion.”
Hearing this, the monk smiled coldly and replied, “If you two had asked in this way before, I would have gone long ago. Headman Tian, what is your honorable name?”
When Headman Tian heard this question, he said, “You know my name is Tian. Why do you ask?”
The monk said, “Your name was not mentioned before.”
Headman Tian said, “My personal name is Laibao.”
Again the monk spoke: “Headman Wan, what is your honorable name?”
Wan Hengshan said, “Teacher, do not be annoyed with us. Have mercy, have mercy upon us. Let us go with them.”
The monk said, “Go then. Go!”
Then Tian Laibao said, “Headman Zhou, now that the worst of this business is over, I beg to leave you.”
“You can go now,” said Headman Zhou, coming over to take Tian’s place.
By this time they had led the monk out of the Monastery of the Soul’s Retreat and had covered two li (roughly two-thirds of a mile) along the shore of the West Lake and the Su Embankment. In this area there were many wine shops. The monk stopped in front of the gate of one wine shop, sat down on the ground, and would not go on.
Headman Zhou asked, “Teacher, why don’t we go on? Do you want a drink?”
The monk replied, “Perhaps I do not want a drink, but I want to ask you something. In this sort of business you adapt yourself. If you are on a mountain, you eat what is on the mountain. If you are near water, you drink the water. If you are among yellow trees, you wear yellow clothing. If there be not many, there may be few. If it be not large, it may be small. Now, if there are friends of mine who see me being taken to the prime minister’s residence, how will you handle that? In this business I feel that you must spend a few cash on the monk. If not, I cannot calmly and peacefully go along with you.”
When Headman Zhou heard this, he thought to himself, “I have been in this business for so many years, but this is the first time that anyone involved in a court action has asked me for money.” Headman Zhou then said, “Teacher, you are a person who has left the world. What do you want to do with the money you are asking for?”
The monk replied, “I must drink wine. If I am not befuddled, I cannot go on.”
Headman Zhou said, “It is possible to drink wine. How many pots of wine does Teacher usually drink?” The monk asked for twenty pots. The wine shop sent out the wine. The monk pretended that his neck was that of a bottle and declaimed as he drank:
Restraint!
In drinking keeps the temper mild,
From lechery, brings long life.
Property thus accumulates,
And families are kept from strife.
In the twinkling of an eye, the monk had finished the wine. Headman Zhou had just the number of cash in his pocket needed to pay for the wine, not one more and not one less. As he noticed this, he said, “Teacher, if you had drunk another pot, my money would not have been enough, and if you had drunk one pot less, I would have had a few cash left over.”
The monk said, “Headman Zhou, when you got up this morning, wasn’t it your wife who gave you that money?”
“That is so,” he replied.
The monk said, “That is the money that I gave your wife last night.”
Headman Zhou said, “Teacher, do not joke. Let us go on quickly.” And he led the monk on for about two li more.
The monk said, “Headman Zhou, you change over and let someone else lead me.”
Headman Zhou asked, “What for?”
The monk replied, “You do not have enough money. Change to another man.”
Headman Zhou called upon Headman Wang to lead. As he started off with the monk he said, “Teacher, keep going.”
The monk said, “I will not go. Do you know why Headman Zhou is not leading me?” Headman Wang did not know, so Ji Gong continued: “In order to lead this monk, he had to spend some money on him.”
Headman Wang said, “What does the teacher want to do with money?”
The monk said, “Drink wine!”
Headman Wang said, “Drink then, Teacher.”
The monk said, “Give me ten pots of wine.”
“Right!” said Headman Wang. “I brought only four hundred cash, just enough. I have no more.”
Ji Gong drank the ten pots of wine. He wanted to be drunk when he reached the prime minister’s estate. Wang led the monk for another two li.
The monk then said, “Headman Wang, you, too, must change places with someone else. Another person must lead me.”
Headman Wang said, “Teacher, you are not being reasonable. When Headman Wang led you from the Monastery of the Soul’s Retreat, that was two li, and then you drank wine. When you finished drinking, you again went two li. After four li you changed leaders. Then you would not go. Before you would move another step, you had to drink some wine. Now you have gone only two li. Why do you want to change leaders again?”
The monk explained, “Headman Zhou gave me twenty pots of wine. You are worth ten pots of wine.”
“I will not argue with you,” said Headman Wang. “Headman Zhang, you come and lead.”
Headman Zhang said, “Teacher, if you want to drink, just go ahead and drink. Here we are in front of the Inn of the Drunken Immortal. I have credit here—drink your fill.”
The monk said, “Give me thirty pots of wine.”
When Zhang the third heard this, he opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue in astonishment, and said: “Teacher, old man, how much wine do you drink in one day?”
The monk answered, “I really do not drink very much. In the morning when I get up, I drink two catties. After I eat breakfast, I drink another two catties. After I eat the evening meal, I drink two more catties. If I get up in the night, I do not drink.”
“Then you just go to bed after the evening meal?” asked Zhang the third.
“I jump into the wine jar and soak myself,” said the monk. “If I do not soak myself, I cannot satisfy my habitual thirst.”
He then drank the thirty pints given him by Zhang the third. There was a pause in the conversation after all this explanation, and the eight headmen also had a drink.
When they arrived at the gate of Prime Minister Qin’s residence, the servants, who thought that the prime minister should be given a little time until his anger had cooled, detained them.
Headman Zhou announced, “We are here, we are here!” and led Ji Gong into the residence. He looked around at the awe-inspiring surroundings.
Made to contain the great man’s curios.
Within were pairs of hollow white jade vessels
Carved in the shape of Chinese unicorns.
Beside the door of the great hall, a man-made grotto,
Crafted of curious stones from distant places,
Enclosed beneath the vault of its most spacious cavern
A chair with wheels, a chair of great antiquity,
Encrusted everywhere with precious coral.
In such a chair an emperor might ride
Or a noble’s mother pushed by her filial son behind,
For it was clearly made for ceremony.
Embowering, but not concealing it, there was
A standing screen of pierced and sculptured lacquer
In color and brightness like the wings of kingfishers.
Closely crowded everywhere among the fine embroideries
Gleamed treasures from ancient ruined dynasties,
Like jewels spread out upon the richest tapestry,
Gifts from the palace of the emperor
Proclaiming Chin to be that reign’s prime minister.
Headman Zhou led Ji Gong into the interior. There, Headman Zhou would make his report, and there the lohan would exercise the arts of Buddha and make manifest their powers.
As Ji Gong was led further into the residence by Headman Zhou, he saw that the old master of the temple, together with the superintendent, the attendant, and some others were standing along the veranda. When the monk arrived in front of the summerhouse, he did not kneel as the others had. Prime Minister Qin looked out at him through the bamboo blind and now realized that he was only a poor, ragged Buddhist priest.
Prime Minister Qin slapped the table before him loudly as he spoke. “You have a lot of gall for a crazy monk! I sent my household people to the temple to borrow some large timbers in a friendly way, not acting as if they were carrying out official duties. But you dared to use your demonic arts and beat my managers. Tell me the truth!”
The monk then wanted to explain how the managers had wanted to tear down the Great Memorial Pagoda, and how he had told them not to, and how the fight had started—but of these things he did not speak. Instead the monk said, “Oh great man, you still ask me! You hold the office of prime minister established by the three great councils, an office in which one should promote goodness, perform virtuous deeds, and bring about general prosperity. Now, without reason, you tear down and destroy buildings on Buddhist land—the more I think of it, the more my anger as a monk rises. Let the great man have me thrown down and given forty strokes of the bamboo and then ask again!”
When Prime Minister Qin heard these words, he broke into a rage and said, “What a brave, crazy priest! How do you dare to criticize a great minister? Come! You two from the left and right there, seize this crazy monk and throw him to the ground. Give him a good forty strokes for me.”
Now these bamboo clubs used in punishments at the home of the prime minister were more terrible than those used anywhere else, because the hollow parts of the bamboo were filled with water. No matter how strong a man might be, forty strokes would break skin and bones. When Ji Gong heard the order given to beat him and the two men were about to begin, he pulled himself loose from their grasp. He leapt between the old temple master and the superintendent of the monks and stood among the other monks.
Three of the household people came over and thrust out their arms to grasp Ji Gong and throw him down upon the ground saying, “Very good, monk! You think you can hide from us and that will be the end of it.”
One held his head down and one held his feet. The monk’s head was to the west. The man with the bamboo stood at the south so that the prime minister could witness the punishment. The man raised the bamboo and administered forty strokes. The monk said not a word. After the three had finished, they stepped aside.
When the prime minister looked, he shouted, “You dog heads! I told you to beat the crazy monk! Why did you beat the superintendent?”
The three looked and felt a bit odd. Just now they had been sure that they were holding the mad monk. How could he have changed into Superintendent Guang Liang?
Guang Liang was now able to say, “Ai ya! You have killed me!” Up to this moment his mouth had been covered and he had been unable to speak during the forty blows. There was broken skin, wounded flesh, and much blood!
CHAPTER 10
Prime Minister Qin sees a ghostly spirit in a dream; Ji Gong comes by night to exercise the arts of Buddha
Only from the most extravagant hopes in the most simple heart,
May the profoundest changes come to pass.
The serenity of moonlit mountain peaks
May be reflected on the storm-tossed sea;
The frightened boatman sees and calmly steers his craft.
Such is the peace reflected from within the Buddhist’s heart.
PRIME Minister Qin summoned a new set of executioners, saying, “Give this crazy monk forty heavy strokes for me. Now, my good mad priest, if I do not have you beaten, I swear that you need not call me a man.”
So three executioners came before the summerhouse. One seized Ji Gong and said, “This time, monk, we will not beat the wrong one.”
Ji Gong said, “You have me. I will go.”
The three men shouted, “Are you trying to waste our time? Get down!”
Ji Gong asked, “Do you monks make bedding in that shop of yours?” pretending he thought that their bamboo staves were used to beat cotton into floss.
The executioners replied, “Don’t pretend that you don’t know what’s going on. We are going to beat you more than cotton is beaten in a cotton-floss shop!”
They forced Ji Gong down. One of them sat astride Ji Gong’s head and shoulders while grasping his ears, and another sat astride his legs. The third man uncovered the back of Ji Gong’s body and raised the bamboo. Prime Minister Qin called out, “Strike! Strike! Strike!”
The executioner brought the bamboo down with great force, but missed Ji Gong by more than a foot. Not only that, but the bamboo hit the executioner who was astride Ji Gong’s head and shoulders squarely in the back with a resounding thwack, and knocked him three or four paces away.
Holding his back with both hands, the fellow yelled, “Ai yah! Ai yah! You’re trying to kill me. Good, good, good! When you wanted me to lend you two hundred cash, I didn’t, and you have been holding a grudge against me ever since.”
Prime Minister Qin was extremely angry. He told the three men to stand back and ordered another three to come forward, saying, “Give this crazy priest eighty strokes for me. If I do not beat you, you crazy monk, I swear that I will no longer be an official.”
Ji Gong countered, “I swear that if you do not get this business over with, I will no longer be a monk.”
As the new executioners came up, one said, “Let me sit astride his head and shoulders, Qin Shun can hold down his legs, and you take the bamboo. But do not let the bamboo miss the mark.”
So they stretched out Ji Gong. Then the bamboo came down with a blow, but right in the middle of the back of the one holding Ji Gong’s legs and knocked him forward.
Inside the summerhouse, as the prime minister watched, he understood. The first time, the executioners had mistakenly beaten the superintendent of the monks. The second time, the man holding Ji Gong’s head and shoulders had been struck. This time, the man holding Ji Gong’s legs was hit. These surely were examples of the magical arts arising from the monk’s heretical practices. He therefore instructed some of his household servants to go and get a large hanging scroll from the great hall. He thought that the writing on the scroll, which affirmed that he was indeed the prime minister of the present reign, would overawe the monk and vanquish his magic.
The prime minister stepped down out of the summerhouse and advanced. Lying there on the ground, Ji Gong looked up and opened his eyes. The anger of Prime Minister Qin was so clearly
shown on his face that it frightened nearly everyone who saw him. When he shouted, “Strike! Strike! Strike!” this time, who dared to hinder him? The next group of evil-looking executioners came forward. One of them raised the bamboo and brought it down with great force, but it flew out of his hands and hit the prime minister. The man was frightened out of his wits by his carelessness.
When the prime minister saw how things were going, he was in a towering rage. Bending his back, he picked up the bamboo stave and looked at it, intending the beat the monk himself. Suddenly he heard a clamor from the inner apartments. Prime Minister Qin was greatly surprised. It had long been the rule in his household that other than the prime minister himself, there should be no men in the inner apartments. Only the old women and maids could enter. Boys over three feet tall could go in only if they were called on urgent business.
Today as he heard the outcry, he was startled to see one of the old women come running and hear her call, “Oh, Great One, it is terrible! The Great One’s chamber is on fire!”
Hearing this, the prime minister exclaimed, “I know it is probably one more of this monk’s magic tricks.” Hurriedly he called for twenty of his men to lock the monk in an empty room, saying, “At the third watch I will examine the monk.” Pointing at Ji Gong he said, “Crazy monk, if you burn the prime minister’s residence until there is not a tile left, I will still take you through the military barracks gate. There I will give you eighty strokes—and perhaps that will relieve the hatred I feel for you in my breast.” He sent him off with the twenty men, telling them to guard the monk well.
Then, saying, “I must go to the inner apartments and see what is happening,” Prime Minister Qin took several dozen people with him. There he saw his wife standing in a courtyard frightened and trembling, while the women and maids were busily putting out the fire. He asked her where the fire had originated.
She replied, “Sparks flew out of the incense burner and set fire to the paper on the lattice windows.”
Prime Minister Qin gave orders that everyone should work to put the fire out. He himself carried out the incense burner and threw it on the ground. One of the serving women anxiously picked it up but found that it was undamaged. Made of unrefined gold, the heavy incense burner, even if it had been broken, would still have been a treasure, because according to the old saying, “Gold is gold!”