by Unknown
Picking up a container, our Idiot followed Pilgrim out the door. Two officials asked, “Where are the elders going?” “To buy seasoning,” replied Pilgrim. “Go west on this street,” said one of them, “and make a turn at the corner watchtower. You’ll find the Zheng family grocery, where you can buy however much you like. Oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, ginger, pepper, and tea—they have them all.”
The two of them, arm in arm, followed the street to the west. Pilgrim walked right past several teahouses and restaurants, refusing to buy what ought to be bought, to eat what ought to be eaten. “Elder Brother,” Eight Rules called out, “let’s not be so choosy. Just buy something here and we’ll enjoy it.” Pilgrim, who had wanted to sport with him, refused, of course, to buy anything. “Worthy Brother,” he said, “don’t be such a spendthrift! Let’s walk a bit further, and we’ll buy something big to eat.” As the two of them chatted, they again caused many people to follow them, staring. In a little while, they reached the watchtower, beneath which they found a large, noisy crowd blocking the street. On seeing them, Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother, I’m not going over there. Look at the mob. I fear that they may want to arrest monks, especially those who are strangers. If they seize me, what’ll happen to me?”
“Nonsense!” said Pilgrim. “Monks haven’t broken the law. Why should they want to arrest us? Let’s walk past them so that we can buy some seasoning from the Zheng family store.” “All right! All right! All right!” said Eight Rules. “I won’t cause any trouble. I’ll just squeeze into the crowd, flap my ears a couple of times, and frighten them into falling down. Let a few of them fall to their deaths, and I’ll just pay with my life!”
“If you put it that way,” said Pilgrim, “why don’t you stand still here at the base of the wall. Let me go to the store and get the seasoning. Then I’ll buy some vegetarian noodles and biscuits for you to eat.” Handing the container over to Pilgrim, our Idiot faced the wall, stuck his snout against it, and stood absolutely still.
Pilgrim walked up to the tower, and it was crowded indeed. As he pushed his way through the throng, he learned that a special royal proclamation had been mounted beneath the tower, and that was why so many people fought to look at it. When he finally squeezed through to where the document was, Pilgrim opened wide his fiery eyes and diamond pupils to stare at it, and this was what he read:
Since we, the king of the Scarlet-Purple Kingdom in the West Aparagodānīya Continent, assumed our throne, the four quarters have remained submissive and the populace have enjoyed leisure and peace. Recently, however, the affairs of state have turned inauspicious, for we have been gravely ill, and recovery has been most difficult even after a long time. The college of imperial medicine of our nation has administered repeatedly its excellent prescriptions, but these have not given us cure. Therefore, we publish now this proclamation for all the worthy scholars throughout the world, regardless of whether they are going to the North, coming from the East, or are even natives of China, the foreign state. If there is anyone skillful in medicine and the therapeutic arts, let him ascend the treasure hall and restore our health. We most solemnly pledge that the moment we are healed, we will divide the kingdom with him. For this reason we have mounted this necessary proclamation.
When he finished reading it, Pilgrim was filled with delight, saying to himself, “The ancients said, ‘Moving about may bring us riches!’ We certainly shouldn’t have sat idly in the college, nor is there any need now to buy seasoning. Let’s delay for one day this business of fetching scriptures and allow old Monkey to play physician for a bit.”
Dear Great Sage! He stooped low and left the container on the ground; picking up a pinch of dirt, he flung it up into the air and recited a spell. Immediately, the Magic of Body-Concealment rendered him invisible, so that he could walk up to the proclamation and gently peel it off. Then he faced the ground toward the southwest and sucked in a deep breath before blowing the air out again. At once a strong whirlwind arose and scattered the multitude. He turned around and went back to where Eight Rules was standing. There he found Eight Rules leaning on the base of the wall with the support of his snout and appearing as if he had fallen asleep. Without disturbing him, Pilgrim folded up the proclamation and gently stuck it in Eight Rules’s bosom. In big strides he then went back first to the College of Interpreters, where we shall leave him.
We tell you now instead about those people beneath the watchtower. When the wind arose, all of them covered their heads and shut their eyes. Little did they anticipate that after the wind had passed, the royal proclamation would be nowhere to be seen, and each one of them was terrified. Originally, you see, the proclamation was accompanied by twelve eunuchs and twelve palace guards as it left the court that morning. It had not been hung up for more than three hours when it was blown away by the wind. Trembling all over, those eunuchs and guards searched for it left and right, and that was when they suddenly caught sight of a slip of paper sticking out from the bosom of Zhu Eight Rules. “Did you peel off the proclamation?” shouted the officials as they ran up to him.
All at once that Idiot raised his head and stuck out his snout, so frightening those several palace guards that they stumbled backwards and fell down. He turned around and wanted to flee, but he was pulled back by several of the braver ones. “You took down the royal proclamation for the recruitment of physicians,” they cried. “Where do you think you are going if you aren’t going into court to heal His Majesty?”
More and more flustered, our Idiot said, “Your son is the one who peeled off the royal proclamation! Your grandson is the one who knows anything about healing!” One of the palace guards spoke up: “What’s that you have in your bosom?” Only then did Idiot lower his head and find that there was indeed a piece of paper there. When he spread it open and took one look, he clenched his teeth and cried, “That wretched ape has killed me!” He became so furious that he would have ripped up the document if the people had not stopped him.
“You are dead!” they shouted. “This is a proclamation of our reigning monarch. Who dares to tear it up? If you have taken it down and stuffed it into your bosom, you must be a physician able to heal him. Go with us, quickly!”
“You have no idea,” shouted Eight Rules, “that I did not take down this proclamation. It was taken down by my elder brother, Sun Wukong. After he stuck it secretly in my bosom, he abandoned me and left. If you want to get to the bottom of this matter, I have to go find him for you.” “What sort of wild talk is that?” said the people. “You think ‘We’d forsake a ready-made bell to strike one about to be forged’? You took down the proclamation! And you tell us now to find someone else! Never mind you! We’ll haul you back to see our lord!”
Without further investigation of the matter, that group of people began to push and shove Idiot. Our Idiot, however, stood perfectly still, and he seemed to have taken root in the earth. Not even a dozen people could budge him. “All of you don’t know any better!” said Eight Rules. “If you pull at me some more, you will pull out my idiotic ire! Don’t blame me then!”
Soon the entire neighborhood was aroused by all that hubbub to come and have Eight Rules surrounded. Among the people were two elderly eunuchs, who said to him, “Your looks are strange and your voice sounds unfamiliar. Where have you come from, and why are you so headstrong?”
“We are those from the Land of the East sent to seek scriptures in the Western Heaven,” replied Eight Rules. “My master is a Master of the Law and the bond-brother of the Tang emperor. Just now he has gone into court to have his travel rescript certified. My elder brother and I came here to buy seasoning. When I saw the crowd beneath the watchtower, I dared not go forward, and my elder brother told me to wait for him here. When he saw the proclamation, he called up a whirlwind and had it taken off and stuck secretly in my bosom. Then he left me.” “Just now,” said one of the eunuchs, “I saw a stoutish priest with a white face heading straight for the gate of the court. He, I suppose, must be your maste
r.” “He is indeed,” said Eight Rules.
“Where has your elder brother gone to?” asked the eunuch. Eight Rules said, “There are altogether four of us. Our master has gone to have our travel rescript certified, but the rest of us—three disciples, a horse, and our luggage—are all resting at the College of Interpreters. After my elder brother had played this trick on me, he must have returned to the college.” “Palace guards,” said the eunuch, “stop tugging at this man. Let us go with him to the college, and we’ll know the whole truth of the matter.” “These two mamas are far more sensible!” said Eight Rules.
“This priest is truly uninformed!” said one of the palace guards. “How could you address the papas as mamas?” “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” said Eight Rules, laughing. “You are the one who’s switching the sexes! These two old mamas should be addressed as popos or madams. And you want to call them papas?” “Stop your saucy tongue!” the people said. “Go find your elder brother quickly.”
By that time the noisy crowd had grown to over five hundred people, all surging up to the entrance of the college. “Stop here, all of you,” said Eight Rules. “My elder brother is not like me, who allows you this spoofing. He is rather hot-tempered, and terribly serious. When you meet him, you must extend to him a grand salutation and address him as Venerable Father Sun. Then he’ll do business with you. Otherwise, he may change his colors and you won’t succeed with your enterprise.” “If your elder brother truly has the ability to heal our king,” said the eunuchs and the palace guards, “he will inherit half the kingdom. He certainly deserves our bow.”
While the idlers milled about noisily before the college, Eight Rules led the troop of eunuchs and palace guards inside, where they heard Pilgrim laughing and telling Sha Monk the trick he had played on Eight Rules. Eight Rules dashed forward and grabbed him, screaming, “Some person you are! You tricked me out there and promised to buy vegetarian noodles, biscuits, and buns for me to eat. They’re all fibs! Then you brought on the whirlwind and took down this so-called royal proclamation to have it stuck secretly in my bosom. You are playing me for a fatso! Is that how you treat your brother?”
Laughing, Pilgrim said, “Idiot, you must have taken the wrong road and gone off to someplace else! I passed the watchtower, bought the seasoning, and came back quickly to where you were, but I couldn’t find you. So, I returned here first. Where did I peel off any royal proclamation?” “The officials guarding the proclamation are right here,” said Eight Rules. Hardly had he finished speaking when those several eunuchs and palace guards went forward to bow deeply to Pilgrim. “Venerable Father Sun,” they said, “today our king must be exceedingly fortunate, for Heaven has sent you to descend to us. We beseech you to exercise your great talents in healing and your profound knowledge in the therapeutic arts. If you succeed in curing our king, you will have claim to half the kingdom.”
On hearing these words, Pilgrim became more sober. He took the proclamation and asked the people, “Are you the officials guarding the proclamation?” Kowtowing, the eunuchs said, “Your slaves are palace officials belonging to the Directorate of Ceremonials. These are the Embroidered-Uniform Guards.” “This proclamation for recruitment of physicians,” said Pilgrim, “was indeed taken down by me. I purposely arranged for my brother to lead you to see me. Your lord is indisposed, but as the proverb says,
Medicines are not lightly bought;
A doctor’s not casually sought.
You go back and ask the king to come here in person to invite me. I guarantee that when I stretch forth my hand, his illness will at once disappear.”
When they heard these words, all of the eunuchs were astonished. “A stupendous claim like this can be made only by someone in the know,” said one of the palace guards. “Half of us will remain here to continue our silent entreaty. Half of us will return to memorialize to the throne.” Whereupon four eunuchs and six palace guards, without waiting for any summons, went inside the court and memorialized before the steps, saying, “My lord, ten thousand happinesses have come upon you!” Having finished his meal, the king was just having a quiet chat with Tripitaka. When he heard this, he asked, “Where has this happiness come from?” One of the eunuchs said, “This morning your slaves took the royal proclamation for the recruitment of physicians to have it mounted beneath the watchtower. It was taken down by Elder Sun, a sage monk sent from the distant Land of the East to acquire scriptures. He is now residing in the College of Interpreters and desires the personal appearance of the king to invite him. He has promised us that when he stretches forth his hand, the illness will disappear. That is why we have come to memorialize to you.”
On hearing this, the king was filled with delight. He turned to ask the Tang Monk, “Master of the Law, how many noble disciples do you have?” “This humble cleric,” replied Tripitaka with hands folded before him, “has three mischievous disciples.” “Which of them is conversant with the therapeutic arts?” asked the king.
“To tell you the truth, Your Majesty,” said Tripitaka, “my mischievous disciples are all ordinary men of the wilds. Their knowledge is confined to pulling the horse and toting the luggage, to fording streams and leading your poor monk across the mountains. When we pass through the more dangerous regions, they may even be able to subjugate demons and fiends, to tame tigers and dragons. But that’s all! None of them knows anything about the nature of medicine.”
“Why must you be so modest, Master of the Law?” said the king. “It is truly a Heavenly affinity that you should arrive on this very day when we ascend the main hall. If your noble disciple were not an able physician, how would he be willing to take down our proclamation and demand our going there in person to invite him? He must have the ability to heal the highest ruler of the state.” Then the king gave this order: “Let our civil and military subjects represent us, for our body is weakened and our strength depleted, and we dare not ride the imperial chariot. You must therefore proceed beyond the court to extend our most earnest invitation to Elder Sun to come and examine our illness. When you see him, you must be careful not to treat him discourteously. You must address him as Elder Sun, the divine monk, and you must greet him as if he were your ruler.”
Having received this decree, the various officials went with the eunuchs and the palace guards to the College of Interpreters. Standing in rows according to their ranks, they paid homage to Pilgrim. Eight Rules was so taken aback that he dashed inside a side room while Sha Monk ran out to stand beneath the wall. Look at our Great Sage! He sat firmly in the middle of the room and remained unmoved. “This wretched ape,” grumbled Eight Rules to himself, “is hanging himself alive with all these undeserved honors! How could he not return the bow of these many officials? Why, he won’t even stand up!”
Soon the ceremony was over, and the officials separated into two files before they presented this memorial, saying, “Let us inform Elder Sun, the divine monk, that we are the subjects of the king of the Scarlet-Purple Kingdom. By royal decree, we come to honor the divine monk with due reverence and ceremony. We beseech you to enter the court and examine a patient.” Only then did Pilgrim stand up and say to them, “Why didn’t your king come here?”
“Because his body is weakened and his strength depleted,” replied the officials, “our king dares not ride the chariot. He has commanded us subjects to observe this ceremony on his behalf and invite you, the divine monk.”
“In that case,” said Pilgrim, “please lead the way, all of you, and I’ll follow.”
The various officials departed in groups, in accordance with their ranks, while Pilgrim walked behind them after having tidied his clothes. “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “don’t you put us up to anything now!” “I won’t,” said Pilgrim, “but I want you two to accept the medicines for me.” “What medicines?” asked Sha Monk. “There will be some medicines sent to us,” said Pilgrim. “Accept them in the quantities that they are delivered. I’ll make use of them when I return.” The two of them a
greed, and we shall leave them for the moment.
Our Pilgrim soon arrived at court with the many officials, who walked ahead to report to the king. As the pearly screen was rolled up, the king opened his phoenix eyes and dragon pupils to look at his visitor and his golden mouth to say, “Who is the divine monk, Elder Sun?” Taking a big step forward, Pilgrim said in a loud voice, “Old Monkey’s the one!” When the king heard this savage voice and encountered the bizarre countenance, he shook so violently that he fell back onto the dragon couch. Those harem girls and palace attendants hurriedly had him borne inside the palace, and all the king could say was, “We are scared to death!” All the officials began to chide Pilgrim, saying, “How could this monk be so rude and impetuous? How could you be so audacious as to take down the proclamation?”
Hearing these words, Pilgrim smiled and said, “All of you have wrongly taken umbrage at me! If that’s how you treat people, the illness of your king won’t be cured for another thousand years!” “How long can a man live,” asked the officials, “that he should be ill for a thousand years?” Pilgrim said, “That man at the moment is a sick ruler. After he dies, he’ll be a sick ghost. Even in the next incarnation, he will still be a sick man. Isn’t it true then that he won’t be cured for a thousand years?” Growing angry, the officials said, “Monk, you have absolutely no manners! How dare you mouth such nonsense?”
“That’s no nonsense!” replied Pilgrim with a laugh. “Listen to what I have to say:
Most mysterious is the physician’s art;
His mind must ever be alert and keen.
To look, listen, ask, and take—these four things—
If one is missing, his craft’s not complete.
One, we look at the patient’s complexion: