by Wu Cheng-En
Her half-grey tresses soared like a phoenix in flight,
Two rows of pearls hung from her ear-rings.
Free of powder and paint, her beauty was natural;
She was as attractive as a younger girl.
When she saw the three others she was more pleased than ever, and she invited them into the main room. When all the introductions had been made, she asked them to sit down and have some tea. A servant girl with her hair in plaits came in through the door leading to the back of the house; she was carrying a golden tray on which were set white jade cups of steaming hot tea as well as exotic fruits that smelt delicious. Her sleeves were wide, and with her fingers as slender as bamboo shoots in spring she handed each of them a jade bowl and bowed. When the tea had been drunk, the mistress ordered a meatless meal to be prepared.
“What is your name, venerable Bodhisattva?” asked Sanzang, spreading out his hands. “And what is this place called?”
“This is the Western Continent of Cattle-gift, or Godaniya,” she replied. “My maiden name is Jia and my husband's name was Mo. In my childhood I had the misfortune of losing both my parents, and I married to continue the ancestral enterprise. Our family is worth ten thousand strings of cash, and we own fifteen thousand acres of good arable land. We were not fated to be given sons, and we only had three daughters. The year before last I suffered the great misfortune of losing my husband. I have remained a widow, and this year I have come out of mourning. There are no other relations to inherit the family estate besides myself and my daughters. I would like to remarry, but not at the price of abandoning the estate. Now that you have come here, venerable sir, with your three disciples, I think it should be you. I and my three daughters want to marry while staying at home, and you four gentlemen would suit us nicely. I wonder if you would be prepared to consent.” Sanzang sat there pretending to be deaf and dumb, with his eyes shut and his mind kept calm. He made no reply.
“We have over four thousand acres each of irrigated land, dry land, and orchards on hillsides,” she continued, “as well as over a thousand head of oxen and water buffalo, herds of mules and horses, and more pigs and sheep than you could count. There are sixty or seventy farm buildings and barns. We have more grain in the house than we could eat in eight or nine years, and more than enough silk to clothe us for a decade-to say nothing of more gold and silver than you could spend in a lifetime. You'll be even better off than those ancients who 'stored spring behind brocade curtains' and kept girls whose 'hair was heavy with golden pins'. If you and your disciples are prepared to change your minds and live in this house as our husbands, you can enjoy wealth and ease. Wouldn't that be better than a difficult journey to the West?” Sanzang sat there silent, as if he were an imbecile.
“I was born at the hour you of the third day of the third month of the year dinghai, ”she continued. “My late husband was three years older than me, and I am now forty-four. My eldest daughter, Zhenzhen, is nineteen; my second, Aiai is seventeen; and Lianlian, the youngest, is fifteen. None of them have been betrothed. Although I am rather ugly myself, the girls are all quite good-looking, and they have all the feminine accomplishments. As my late husband had no sons, he gave them a boy's education, teaching them to read the Confucian classics from an early age and training them to recite poems and make couplets. Although they live in this mountain farmhouse you couldn't consider them boorish, and I think that they would be good partners for all you reverend gentlemen. If you are willing to broaden your outlook and let your hair grow, you could be head of the family and wear silks and brocades. Wouldn't that be far better than your earthenware begging-bowl, rough clothes, straw sandals, and rain-hats?”
Sanzang sat in the place of honour as still as a child terrified by thunder or a toad soaked in a rainstorm. He seemed to be in a trance as he leant back with his eyes turned up towards the sky. Pig, however, felt an itch in his mind that was hard to scratch when he heard about all this wealth and beauty. He fidgeted on his chair as if needles were being stuck into his backside, and finally could bear it no longer.
He went up to his master, tugged at his clothes, and said, “Master, why are you paying no attention to what the lady is saying? You really ought to take some notice.” Sanzang glared at him angrily, made a furious noise, and shouted at him to go away.
“Evil beast,” he said, “We are men of religion. It's disgraceful to allow yourself to be moved by the thought of wealth, honour or sex.”
“Poor, poor things,” said the woman with a smile. “What good can there be in being men of religion?”
“What good can there be in being of the world, Bodhisattva?” Sanzang replied.
“Please sit down, reverend sir, while I tell you about the advantages of being in the world,” she said. “There is a poem to describe them that goes:
In spring we cut out linked diamond patterns and wear new silk;
In summer we change to light gauze and admire the lotus;
In autumn comes meat and delicious rice-wine,
In winter the house is warm, and our faces are red with drink.
We have all that's needed in the four seasons,
The treasures and delicacies of the whole year.
Brocade clothes, silken sheets and a wedding night
Are better than plodding along and worshipping Maitreya.”
“Bodhisattva,” said Sanzang, “it is, of course, very good to enjoy wealth and honour with plenty of food and clothes and a family. But what you don't realize is that the religious life has advantages, which are described in this poem:
It is no light matter to decide to enter religion:
You have to demolish the love and gratitude you felt before.
Externals are created no longer, and your mouth is tightly shut.
Negative and positive exist within your body.
When all has been achieved, you face the golden gates;
See your nature, clarify your mind, and return home.
This is better than staying in the world to be greedy for blood and food
While your stinking flesh grows aged and decrepit.”
“You insolent monk,” the woman said in great anger. “If it weren't for the fact that you've come a long, long way from the East. I'd drive you out of my house. I invite you four with all sincerity to marry us and enjoy our wealth, and you repay my kindness with insults. If you have accepted the prohibitions and made your vows, you could at least let me have one of your underlings as a son-in-law. Why are you being such a stickler for the rules?”
As she had lost her temper, Sanzang had to soothe her, so he said, “Monkey, you stay here.”
“I've never been able to do that sort of thing,” Monkey replied.
“Why not let Pig stay?”
“Stop teasing, elder brother,” Pig said. “We should all decide what's the best thing to do.”
“If neither of you will stay, I must ask Friar Sand to stay,” said Sanzang; but Friar Sand replied, “What a thing to say, master. I was converted by the Bodhisattva, agreed to obey the prohibitions, and waited till you came, and since taking me as your disciple you've taught me more. I haven't been with you for two months yet, and I've had no time to win any merit at all. How could I possibly want wealth and position? I want to go to the Western Heaven even if it costs me my life, and I'm certainly not going to frustrate my hopes by doing that.” In the face of their refusals the woman turned round, went out through the door leading to the back of the house, and slammed it behind her, leaving master and disciples outside with neither food nor tea. Nobody else came out to see them.
“That's not the way to handle things, master,” grumbled an angry Pig. “You should have been more flexible and given her some noncommittal answer, then you'd have got some food out of her. That way we'd have eaten well tonight, but would still have been able to refuse to marry them in the morning. We're going to have a lousy night with nothing to eat if that inside door is shut and nobody comes out to us.”
“Brother Pig, you should
stay here and marry one of the girls,” said Friar Sand.
“Lay off me,” Pig replied. “We must decide what's the best thing to do.”
“Why bother?” said Monkey. “If you want to marry one of them, you'll make our master and the woman in-laws, and you can be a husband living with his in-laws. A family as rich as this is bound to give a good dowry, as well as a feast for relations which will do us all a bit of good. So it's in all our interests for you to return to worldly life here.”
“It sounds all right,” said Pig, “but it would mean going back to the world after leaving it, and marrying again after ending another marriage.”
“Did you have a wife before, then?” asked Friar Sand.
“So you still don't know,” said Monkey, “that he used to be the son-in-law of Squire Gao in Gao Village in the land of Stubet. After I defeated him and the Bodhisattva converted him and made him promise to observe the prohibitions, we managed to force him to become a monk. So he left his wife and joined our master for the journey to the Buddha in the West. I think that now he's been away from her for so long he's remembering all that business again. When he heard this woman's offer, it revived his old ideas. Blockhead,” he continued, addressing Pig, “marry into this family as a son-in-law. I won't report on you provided you bow to me a few times.”
“Nonsense, Nonsense,” said Pig. “You've all been thinking the same thoughts, but you pick on me to make an exhibition of. It's always said that 'a monk among pretty women is a hungry ghost,' and that goes for all of us. But by acting so high and mighty you've ruined our chances of doing well here. We haven't cast our eyes on so much as a cup of tea, and there isn't even anyone to light the lamps for us. We may be able to stick it out for a night, but that horse will have to carry our master again tomorrow, and if he gets nothing to eat all night he'll collapse. You lot sit here while I take him out for a feed.” He untied the animal and dragged it out in a great hurry, at which Monkey said, “Friar Sand, you sit here with the master while I follow him and see where he pastures that horse.”
“If you want to keep an eye on him, you may do so,” Sanzang said, “but don't play any tricks on him.”
“I understand,” said Monkey, and as he went out of the room he shook himself, turned into a red dragonfly, flew out of the main gate, and caught up with Pig.
Instead of letting the horse eat what grass there was, the blockhead chivied and dragged it round to the back door of the house, where he saw the woman and her three daughters admiring some chrysanthemums. When they saw Pig coming, the three girls rushed inside, while their mother remained standing in front of him.
“Where are you going, reverend sir?” she asked. The idiot dropped the horse's bridle, greeted her respectfully, and said, “I'm pasturing the horse, mother.”
“That master of yours is too prim and proper,” she said. “Wouldn't you rather marry here than go on plodding West as a travelling monk?”
“They're under orders from the Tang Emperor,” Pig replied with a grin, “and are too scared of disobeying him to do a thing like this. When they put the pressure on me in the hall just now I was in a very awkward spot. I hope you don't mind about my long snout and big ears.”
“I don't mind,” she said, “as long as we can have a man about the house, though my girls might not find you very attractive.”
“Tell your girls not to be so particular about a husband,” said Pig. “That Tang Priest may be very handsome, but he's completely useless. Although I'm as ugly as they come, I have something to say for myself.”
“What would that be?” she asked. His reply was:
“I may be not much to look at,
But I certainly get things done.
Fifteen thousand acres
I can plough without an ox.
Just by using my rake
I plant crops that come up well.
I can summon rain in a drought,
Call up a wind when there's none.
If you find your house too small,
I can add two more stories, or three.
If the ground needs sweeping, I'll sweep it;
If the ditches are blocked, I'll make them run.
I can do all sorts of household jobs.
And perform miscellaneous duties in the home.”
“Very well then,” she said, “if you can manage the work about the place you'd better go and talk it over with your master. If there are no problems, then you can marry one of the girls.”
“There's no need to talk it over with him,” Pig said. “He's not my father or mother, and it's entirely up to me whether I do it or not.”
“Very well then,” she said, “Wait while I tell the girls.” With that she went in and shut the door behind her. Pig still did not let the horse graze but dragged it round towards the front of the house.
Unbeknown to him, Monkey, who knew all about what had happened, flew back, changed back into his own form, and said to the Tang Priest, “Master, Pig is leading the horse back.”
“If he hadn't led it, it might have got excited and run away,” Sanzang said, at which Monkey burst out laughing and told him all about what had taken place between Pig and the woman. Sanzang did not know whether to believe him or not. A moment later the blockhead led the horse in and tethered it.
“Have you grazed the horse?” Sanzang asked.
“I couldn't find any grass that was good enough,” said Pig, “so I couldn't graze it.”
“You may not have been able to graze the horse,” said Monkey, “but you managed do some horse-trading.” This jibe made the idiot realize that the cat was out of the bag, so he hung his head and did not say a word. There was a creak as a side door opened and the woman and her three daughters-Zhenzhen, Aiai and Lianlian-came in with a pair of lamps glowing red and two portable incense burners from which sweet-smelling smoke curled up as the jade ornaments at their waists tinkled. The three girls greeted the pilgrims, standing in a row in the middle of the room and bowing. They were undoubtedly beauties:
All had moth-eyebrows glistening blue,
Pale and spring-like faces.
Seductive beauties who could tumble kingdoms,
Disturbing men's hearts with their quiet charm.
Elegant were their ornaments of golden flowers;
Their embroidered sashes floated above the worldly dust.
Their half-smile was a bursting cherry;
Their breath was perfumed as they walked with slow steps.
Their hair was covered with pearls and jade.
Trembling under countless jeweled ornaments;
Their whole bodies were fragrant,
Covered with delicate flowers of gold.
Why mention the beauty of the woman of Chu,
Or the charms of Xi Zi?
They really were like fairies from the Ninth Heaven,
Or the Lady of the Moon coming out of her palace.
While Sanzang put his hands together and bowed his head the Great Sage pretended not to notice and Friar Sand turned away. But Pig gazed at them with a fixed stare, his mind seething with lewd thoughts as his lust overwhelmed him.
“Thank you, divine angels, for coming to see us,” he said, fidgeting, “but could you ask the girls to go, please, mother?” The three girls went out through the door, leaving a pair of gauze-shielded lanterns behind them.
“Will you four reverend gentlemen please decide which of you is to marry one of the girls?” the woman said.
“We've already made up our minds that Mr. Pig is to be your son-in-law,” Friar Sand replied.
“Don't pick on me, brother,” said Pig, “we should discuss this together.”
“No need to,” said Monkey. “You've already fixed everything up at the back door and called her 'mother,' so there's nothing to discuss. Our master can represent the groom's family, this lady is the bride's family, I can be best man, and Friar Sand can be the matchmaker. There's no need to bother with the usual exchange of letters, and today is a most auspicious on
e full of heavenly grace, so bow to the master and go in to be her son-in-law.”
“Impossible,” said Pig, “impossible. I couldn't do a thing like that.”
“Stop trying to cover up, blockhead,” said Monkey. “You've already called her 'mother' umpteen times: there's nothing impossible about it at all. Hurry up and fulfil your promise so that we can have some wedding wine, which will be one good thing about it.” Seizing Pig with one hand and grabbing the woman with the other he said, “As the bride's mother, you should take your son-in-law inside.”
The idiot Pig hesitated, wanting to go in, and the woman said to the servants, “Bring table and chairs and give these three relatives of ours a meatless supper. I'm taking our son-in-law inside.” Then she told the cooks to prepare a banquet for their friends and relations the following morning. The servants did as they were told, and the other three pilgrims ate their supper, spread their bedding, and went to sleep in their places.
Pig followed his mother-in-law inside, and as he lost count of the number of rooms he went through, constantly tripping over the thresholds. “Don't go so fast, mother,” he said, “and please guide me as I don't know the way.”
“These are all granaries, storehouses, and milling rooms,” she said. “We haven't reached the kitchens yet.”
“What an enormous house,” said Pig, as he went round many a corner, tripping and bumping into things, until he reached the inner apartments of the house.
“Your brother said that today was a very auspicious day,” the woman said, “which is why I've brought you inside. But as we're doing things in such a rush, I haven't had time to call in a fortune-teller or arrange a proper ceremony with the scattering of fruit. You must just bow eight times, and that will have to do.”
“A good idea, mother,” said Pig. “You sit in the seat of honour and I'll bow to you a few times-that can be the wedding ceremony and thanking the bride's family rolled into one, which will save trouble.”
“Very well then,” said the woman with a laugh. “You are a most capable and practical son-in-law. I'll sit here while you bow to me.”