by Wu Cheng-En
The minister went to court the next day and wrote in a memorial to the Tang Emperor: “Your subject's son-in-law, the top graduate Chen Guangrui, was murdered by the boatman Liu Hong while going with his family to take up his office in Jiangzhou, and my daughter was forced to become his wife. This Liu Hong has usurped office for many years by masquerading as my son-in-law. This constitutes treason. I beg Your Majesty to dispatch horse and foot at once to destroy this rebellious brigand.”
The Tang Emperor was so angry when he read this that he ordered Minister Yin to set off at the head of sixty thousand men of the Imperial Guard. The minister left the court with the decree and went to the parade ground to muster the soldiers before setting out for Jiangzhou. By setting out at dawn every day and not stopping till night, they traveled as fast as a shooting star or a flying bird, and before they realized it they had reached Jiangzhou, where Minister Yin's army camped on the Northern bank. That night he sent a messenger with a gold-inscribed tablet to summon the deputy prefect and district judge of Jiangzhou. Minister Tin explained the situation to them and told them to call out their troops to help him. They crossed the river together, and surrounded Liu Hong's yamen before dawn. Liu Hong, who was still in his dreams, heard the sound of cannon and the beating of drums and gongs; when the soldiers rushed his residence he was helpless and soon captured. The minister ordered that Liu Hong and his gang should be tied up and taken to the execution ground, while the army was to encamp outside the city walls.
The minister went into the main hall of the yamen and asked his daughter to come out and see him. His daughter, who had been longing to go out, felt too ashamed to face her father and so was on the point of hanging herself.
When Xuanzang learned of this he went as fast as he could to save her, fell on his knees, and said, “Your son and my grandfather have come here with an army to avenge my father. That brigand has been arrested, so there is no need at all for you to kill yourself. If you die mother, I won't be able to stay alive.” The minister too came into the residence to talk her out of it.
“They say that a woman should only have one husband in her life,” she said to them. “I was bitterly grieved at the death of my husband at that brigand's hands, and could not bear the disgrace of marrying his murderer; but as I was carrying my husband's child I had to swallow the shame of staying alive. Now, thank goodness, my son has grown up and my father has brought an army to avenge my husband but how could I have the face to see you. The only way I can make up for it to my husband is to kill myself.”
“My child,” said the minister, “this was not a case of abandoning morality for the sake of material gain. You acted under duress, and did nothing to be ashamed of.” Father and daughter then embraced each other and wept, while Xuanzang sobbed too. “There is no need for the two of you to be so distressed,” said the minister, wiping away his tears. “Today I have captured our enemy, that rebel, and now I must deal with him.” He got up and went to the execution ground.
As it happened, the assistant prefect of Jiangzhou had sent constables to arrest the other pirate, Li Biao, and they brought him in. The minister was very pleased, and he ordered that Liu Hong and Li Biao were to be put under a close guard. They were each given a hundred strokes of the heavy pole, and statements were taken from them about how and why they had committed the wicked murder of Chen Guangrui. Then Li Biao was nailed on a wooden donkey and pushed to the market-place, where he was sliced into a thousand pieces, after which his head was hung up on public display. Liu Hong was taken to the Hongjiang Estuary where he had murdered Chen Guangrui. The minister, his daughter and Xuanzang went to the riverside, where they made offerings and libations to the emptiness and cut out Liu Hong's heart and liver while he was still alive to sacrifice to Chen Guangrui. They also burnt a funerary address.
The bitter lamentations of the three of them startled the underwater palace. A patrolling yaksha demon handed the funerary address to the dragon king. When he had read it, the dragon king sent Marshal Turtle to ask Chen Guangrui to come and see him.
“Congratulations, sir, congratulations,” said the dragon king. “Your lady, your son and your father-in-law are all sacrificing to you on the bank. I shall now return your soul to you and give you an As-You-Will pearl, two rolling pearls, ten pieces of mermaid silk, and a belt of jade studded with pearls. Today you will be reunited with you wife, your son and your mother.” Chen Guangrui bowed to him over and over again to express his gratitude. The dragon king then told a yaksha to take Chen Guangrui's body out to the estuary, where he was to return the soul to it; and the yaksha obediently went off.
When she had wailed for her husband and sacrificed to him, Miss Tin tried to jump into the water to drown herself, but with a desperate effort Xuanzang managed to keep hold of her. Just at this tense moment they saw a corpse floating towards the bank. Miss Yin, rushing forward to see who it was, recognized it as that of her husband and started a great wailing. Everyone else had now come up to look, and they saw Chen Guangrui open his fist and stretch his foot as his body gradually began to move. Suddenly he sat up, to their great astonishment. He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was his wife, his father-in-law and the young monk all weeping beside him.
“What are you all doing here?” he asked.
“After you were killed I gave birth to this son,” replied his wife, “and by a piece of good fortune he was brought up by the abbot of the Jinshan Temple. When he came to find me I sent him to see my father; and when my father knew what had happened he submitted a memorial at court and brought an army here to arrest your murderer, whose heart and liver we have just plucked from his living body to sacrifice to you. But how is it that your soul has been returned to you, husband?”
“It is all because we bought and released that golden carp when we were staying at the Ten Thousand Flowers Inn: the carp, it turned out, was the local dragon king. When that treasonous murderer pushed me into the water I was rescued by the dragon king, who has given me back my soul and presented me with all the treasures I have on me. I never had any idea that you had borne this son, or that my father-in-law had avenged me. Our sorrows are now at an end. This is a very happy moment indeed.”
When the other officials heard what had happened they all came to offer their congratulations, and the minister gave a banquet to thank all his subordinates. The army set off on its return journey that same day. When they reached the Ten Thousand Flowers Inn the minister ordered them to encamp while Guangrui and Xuanzang went to the inn to find the old lady. The night before she had dreamt of a withered tree blossoming again while magpies made a clamorous din behind the building.
“Perhaps my grandson has come,” she thought, and while the words were still in her mind she saw Guangrui and his son at the gate of the inn.
“Isn't this my grandmother?” said the little monk; and the moment Guangrui saw his aged mother he kowtowed to her. Mother and son embraced in tears; then he told her all about what had happened. The innkeeper's account was presented and settled, and then they set off for the capital. When they reached the minister's residence, Guangrui, his wife, his mother and Xuanzang all went in to see the minister's wife, who was overcome with joy and told the servants to lay on a large banquet to celebrate.
“We can call today's banquet a 'reunion banquet,'“ said the minister, and the whole household was indeed happy.
When the Tang Emperor entered the throne hall early the next morning, Minister Yin stepped forward and submitted a memorial giving a detailed account of what had happened, and recommending Chen Guangrui as a man whose talents could be put to great use. The Tang Emperor approved the memorial and ordered that Chen Guangrui should be appointed a Scholar in order to take part in administration at court. As Xuanzang had decided to follow the contemplative life he was sent to cultivate his conduct in the Hongfu Temple. Later on Miss Yin finally ended her life in a quiet and honorable way, and Xuanzang went back to the Jinshan Temple to report to Abbot Faming. If you don't know wha
t happened afterwards, listen to the explanation in the next installment.
Chapter 10
With a Stupid Plan the Dragon King Breaks the Laws of Heaven
Minister Wei Sends a Letter to an Officer of Hell
We shall not discuss how Chen Guangrui performed his duties or Xuanzang cultivated his conduct; instead we shall talk about two wise men who lived beside the banks of the River Jing outside the city of Chang'an. One was an old fisherman called Zhang Shao and the other was a woodcutter called Li Ding. They were both advanced scholars who had never taken the official examination, lettered men of the mountains. One day, when Li Ding had sold his load of firewood and Zhang Shao had sold his basketful of carp in Chang'an city, they went into a tavern, drank till they were half tipsy, and strolled slowly home along the banks of the Jing, each holding a bottle in his hand.
“Brother Li,” said Zhang Shao, “it seems to me that people who struggle for fame kill themselves for it; those who compete for profit die for it; those who accept honors sleep with a tiger in their arms; and those who receive imperial favours walk around with snakes in their sleeves. Taking all in all, we are much better off living free among our clear waters and blue hills: we delight in our poverty and follow our destinies.”
“You are right, Brother Zhang,” said Li Ding, “but your clear waters have nothing on my blue hills.”
“Your blue hills are not a patch on my clear waters,” retorted Zhang Shao, “and here is a lyric to the tune of The Butterfly Loves the Flowers to prove it:
The skiff is tiny amid the misty expanse of waves;
Calmly I lean against the single sail,
Listening to the voice of Xishi the beauty.
My thoughts and mind are cleared; I have no wealth or fame
As I toy with the waterweed and the rushes.
“To count a few gulls makes the journey happy.
In the reedy bend, under the willow bank,
My wife and children smile with me.
The moment I fall asleep, wind and waves are quiet;
No glory, no disgrace, and not a single worry.”
“Your clear waters are no match for my blue hills,” said Li Ding, “and there is another lyric to the same tune to prove it. It goes:
The cloudy woods are covered with pine blossom.
Hush! Hear the oriole sing,
As if it played a pipe with its cunning tongue.
With touches of red and ample green the spring is warm;
Suddenly the summer's here as the seasons turn.
“When autumn comes the look of things is changed;
The scented chrysanthemum
Is enough for my pleasure.
Soon the cruel winter plucks all off.
I am free through four seasons, at nobody's beck and call.”
“You don't enjoy the good things in your blue hills that I do on my clear waters,” replied the fisherman, “and I can prove it with another lyric to the tune of The Partridge Heaven:
In this magic land we live off the cloudy waters;
With a sweep of the oar the boat becomes a home.
We cut open the live fish and fry the green turtle
As steam coils from the purple crab and the red shrimps bubble.
Green reed shoots,
Sprouts of water-lilies,
Better still, water chestnuts and the gorgon fruit,
Delicate louts roots and seeds, tender celery,
Arrowhead, reed-hearts and bird-glory blossom.”
“Your clear waters cannot compare with my blue hills when it comes to the good things they provide,” said the woodcutter, and I can cite another lyric to the tune The Partridge Heaven as evidence:
Mighty crags and towering peaks reach to the sky;
A grass hut or a thatched cottage is my home.
Pickled chicken and duck are better than turtles or crabs,
Roebuck, boar, venison, and hare beat fish and shrimps.
The leaves of the tree of heaven,
Yellow chinaberry sprouts,
And, even better, bamboo shoots and wild tea,
Purple plums and red peaches, ripe gages, and apricots,
Sweet pears, sharp jujubes, and osmanthus blossom.”
“Your blue hills are really nothing on my clear waters,” replied the fisherman, “and there is another lyric to the tune Heavenly Immortal:
In my little boat I can stay where I like,
Having no fear of the many misty waves.
Drop the hook, cast wide the net, to catch fresh fish:
Even without fat or sauce,
They taste delicious
As the whole family eats its meal together.
“When there are fish to spare I sell them in Chang'an market
To buy good liquor and get a little drunk.
Covered with my grass cloak I sleep on the autumn river,
Snoring soundly
Without a care,
Not giving a damn for honour and glory.”
“Your clear waters still aren't as good as my blue mountains,” came back the woodcutter, “and I too have a Heavenly Immortal lyric to prove it:
Where I build a little thatched hut under the hill
The bamboo, orchid, plum, and pine are wonderful.
As I cross forests and mountains to look for dry firewood
Nobody asks awkward questions,
And I can sell
As much or as little as the world wants.
I spend the money on wine and I'm happy,
Content with my earthenware bowl and china jug.
When I've drunk myself blotto I lie in the shade of the pine.
No worries,
No books to balance;
What do I care about success or failure?”
“Brother Li,” said the fisherman, “you don't make as easy a living in the hills as I do on the water, and I can prove it with a lyric to the tune The Moon on the West River:
The smartweed's flowers are picked out by the moon
While the tangled leaves of rushes sway in the wind.
Clear and distant the azure sky, empty the Chu river:
Stir up the water, and the stars dance.
Big fish swim into the net in shoals;
Little ones swallow the hooks in swarms;
Boiled or fried they taste wonderful-
I laugh at the roaring river and lake.”
“Brother Zhang,” replied the woodcutter, “the living I make in the hills is much easier than yours on the water, and I can prove it with another Moon on the West River lyric:
Withered and leafless rattan fills the paths,
Old bamboo with broken tips covers the hillside.
Where vines and creepers tangle and climb
I pull some off to tie my bundles.
Elms and willows hollow with decay,
Pines and cedars cracked by the wind-
I stack them up against the winter cold,
And whether they're sold for wine or money is up to me.”
“Although you don't do too badly in your hills, your life is not as elegant as mine on the water,” said the fisherman, “as I can show with some lines to the tune The Immortal by the River.
As the tide turns my solitary boat departs;
I sing in the night, resting from the oars.
From under a straw cape the waning moon is peaceful.
The sleeping gulls are not disturbed
As the clouds part at the end of the sky.
Tired, I lie on the isle of rushes with nothing to do,
And when the sun is high I'm lying there still.
I arrange everything to suit myself:
How can the court official compare with my ease
As he waits in the cold for an audience at dawn?”
“Your life on the water may be elegant, but it's nothing compared with mine,” replied the woodcutter, “and I have some lines to the same tune to demonstrate the point:
On an autumn day I carry my axe
along the greeny path
Bringing the load back in the cool of evening,
Putting wild flowers in my hair, just to be different,
I push aside the clouds to find my way home,
And the moon is up when I tell them to open the door.
Rustic wife and innocent son greet me with smiles,
And I recline on my bed of grass and wooden pillow.
Steamed millet and pear are spread before me,
While the new wine is warm in the pot: This is really civilized.”
“All this is about our living and the ways we provide for ourselves,” said the fisherman. “I can prove to you that your leisure is nowhere near as good as mine with a poem that goes:
Idly I watch the white cranes as they cross the sky;
As I Moor the boat at the river's bank, a blue door gives me shade.
Leaning on the sail I teach my son to twist a fishing line,
When rowing's done I dry the nets out with my wife.
A settled nature can really know the calm of the waves;
A still body feels the lightness of the breeze.
Always to wear a green straw cape and a blue straw hat
Is better than the purple robes of the court.”
“Your leisure doesn't come up to mine,” replied the woodcutter, “as this poem I shall now recite demonstrates:
With a lazy eye on the white clouds in the distance,
I sit alone in a thatched but, then close the bamboo door.
When there's nothing to do I teach my son to read;
Sometimes a visitor comes and we play a game of chess.
When I'm happy I take my stick and walk singing along the paths,
Or carry my lute up the emerald hills.