by Wu Cheng-En
A heavy snowfall blankets the ground.
Indeed:
The six-sided snowflakes
Are flying jewels;
In the great forest
Jade hangs from every tree.
First like flour, then like salt.
The white parrot loses its whiteness,
The crane's feathers no longer stand out.
It adds to the waters of a thousand rivers,
Outdoes the plum-trees in the Southeast.
As if three million dragons of jade were defeated,
The sky is filled with fragments of armor and scales.
Here you will not find Dongguo's soleless sandals,
The bed where Yuan An froze to death,
The place where Sun Kang studied in the snow's reflected light,
The boat that Wang Ziyou took one snowy night,
Wang Gong's cloak,
Or the rug that Su Wu had to eat.
All you will see are village houses set like inlaid silver,
Three thousand miles of jade-like river and hills.
What splendid snow,
Sprinkling the bridge with willow catkins,
Covering the cottage with pear blossom.
When the bridge is sprinkled with willow catkins,
The fisherman beside it dons his cape of straw;
When the cottage is covered with pear blossom
The old man inside bums his firewood.
The traveler is hard put to it to buy a drink;
The slave cannot find the plum blossom for which be is sent.
The heavy fall of snow takes off the butterfly's wings,
The howling blizzard strips the goose of its feathers.
Rolling drifts are blown by the winds;
Layer upon layer hides the road.
Freezing gusts come through the curtains,
A chilly wind blows into the bed.
This is Heaven's promise of a good harvest,
Good news that is cause for celebration.
The snow was falling in abundance like fragments of jade or cotton wool. When master and disciples had sighed in admiration of it for a long time the two old Chen brothers told two servants to sweep a way through the snow and two more to bring the monks hot water with which to wash their faces. A little later boiling hot tea, cheesecakes and a charcoal stove were all carried out to the side room, where master and disciple sat around them.
“Venerable benefactor,” the Tang Priest asked, “could you tell me if you distinguish between the seasons of the year here?”
“This may be a remote place,” said the old man, “and our customs and people may be different from those in your distinguished land, but our crops and animals grow under the same sky, so of course we distinguish between the four seasons.”
“In that case why is there such heavy snow today, and why is it so cold?” Sanzang asked.
“Although it has been August,” the old man replied, “the frost last night marked the beginning of September. We generally have frost and snow here in September.”
“That is different from the East,” said Sanzang. “We have frost and snow in the winter.”
As they were talking servants came in with tables and invited them to take some porridge. By the time they had finished eating the snow was heavier than ever and before long it lay two feet deep. Sanzang began to weep with anxiety.
“Please don't worry so,” said old Mr. Chen, “and don't be upset because the snow is deep. We have plenty of grain here, enough to feed you venerable gentlemen for half a lifetime.”
“You do not know why I am suffering, benefactor,” Sanzang replied. “When all those years ago His Majesty the Tang Emperor graciously commanded me to make this journey and escorted me in person by carriage to the frontier pass he offered me a parting meal with his own hands, asking me when I would be back. I did not realize how many difficult mountains and rivers would lie in my way, so I casually replied that I could be back with the scriptures in three years. It is now already seven or eight years since I left and I have yet to gaze on the face of the Buddha. I am worried that I have exceeded His Majesty's time limit and afraid of all the evil monsters and other vicious creatures ahead. Today I have had the good fortune to stay in your great mansion, and last night my disciples were able to thank you by doing you a small favour. I was hoping to ask for a boat to ferry us across the river, never expecting that Heaven would send this heavy fall of snow. Now the roads are blocked and I do not know when I shall complete my mission and return home.”
“Do not worry, sir,” said old Mr. Chen. “Most of the time for your journey has already passed. You will only have to wait here a few days for the skies to clear and the ice to melt, then we will spend everything we have to see you across the river.”
A servant then came in to invite them to breakfast, which they ate in the main hall, followed not long afterwards by lunch. Sanzang felt embarrassed by all this lavish hospitality, so he said repeatedly, “As you are being so kind as to let us stay we must insist on eating more ordinary fare.”
“Venerable sir,” Mr. Chen replied, “we are so grateful for having the children saved from the sacrifice that we could not thank you enough even if we gave you banquets every day.”
After this the snow stopped and people began to move around. Seeing how unhappy Sanzang was, old Mr. Chen had the garden swept and a fire made in a brazier, then invited them to the snow-cave to cheer themselves up by enjoying the snow view.
“What a silly idea,” laughed Pig. “Spring is the time for enjoying gardens. It's much too cold in all this snow, and anyhow there's nothing to be seen now.”
“You don't know anything, you idiot,” said Monkey. “Snowscapes are very peaceful and elegant. It will be a pleasure to see them and it will make the master feel better too.”
“That's right, that's right,” said old Mr. Chen. The visitors were then taken into the garden and this is what they saw:
Although it was autumn
The scenery was winter's.
Jade stamens formed on the hoary pine,
Silvery flowers hung from the dying willow.
Powder was piled on the lichen by the steps,
Jeweled shoots sprang from the bamboo at the window.
The craggy mountain tops,
The fishpond.
On the craggy mountain tops
The sharp and pointed peaks were like jade bamboo.
In the fishpond
The clear and living water now was ice,
Gone was the beauty of the lotus by the bank;
The rose of Sharon's delicate fronds hung low.
The autumn begonia
Was weighed right down;
The winter plum
Was just putting out new growth.
The Peony Pavilion,
The Pomegranate Pavilion,
The Osmanthus Pavilion,
All piled deep in goose-down;
The Place for Forgetting Cares,
The Place for Entertaining Visitors,
The Place for Recreation,
All covered as if with butterflies' wings.
The yellow chrysanthemums by the fence were woven of jade and gold;
A few maples were dappled white and red.
Many a courtyard was too cold to enter:
The sight of the snow-cave made one feel like ice.
Here was set a brazier of bronze,
With heads of animals and legs like elephants,
Where a toasting-hot fire of charcoal burnt,
And some lacquered armchairs
With cushions of tigerskin
And screens of paper set all around for warmth.
On the walls were hung ancient paintings by famous artists, showing:
The Seven Worthies going out through the pass,
A solitary fisherman on a cold river,
Amid a landscape of snowy peaks and mountains.
Su Wu eating his rug,
Breaking off plum bra
nches to meet the envoys,
And writing in the cold of a frozen forest.
There was no end of
Houses near a river pavilion where fish can be bought,
Mountain tracks buried in snow where no wine is on sale.
Were it big enough to live in
Who would need to go to magical Penghu?
After they had admired the scenery for a long time they sat down in the snow-cave and told the elderly neighbors about their mission to fetch the scriptures. When they had drunk the fragrant tea old Mr. Chen said, “Venerable gentlemen, may I offer you some wine?”
“As a monk I do not drink,” replied Sanzang, “but my disciples may drink a few cups.” The old man was delighted.
“Bring vegetarian food,” he ordered, “and warm some wine to keep the cold out of these gentlemen.” Servants then carried out tables that were set round the brazier. They all drank several cups with the two elderly neighbors, then everything was tidied away.
By now it was getting late, and the visitors were invited back into the hall for an evening meal. They could hear passers-by in the street saying, “Oh! It's cold today. The River of Heaven is frozen solid.”
“That's terrible,” said Sanzang to Brother Monkey. “The river's frozen.”
“In a sudden cold snap like this I think that only the shallow water near the bank can have frozen,” said old Mr. Chen. Then another passer-by said, “The whole 250 miles of it are frozen as smooth as a mirror, and some people are setting out across it from where the road ends.” Hearing that people were walking across, Sanzang wanted to go out and take a look. “Do not be in such a hurry, venerable sir,” said old Mr. Chen. “It's late now. Wait till morning.” He then said good-bye to the two elderly neighbors, and after supper the visitors slept in the side room once more.
Pig rose at dawn and said, “Brother, it was even colder last night. I think the river really must have frozen solid.” Sanzang went to the door, bowed low to Heaven, and prayed, “All you gods who protect the teachings, on my journey West I have faithfully worshipped the Buddha and crossed many a river and mountain with great suffering and never a word of complaint. I am deeply grateful for Heaven's help in bringing me this far, and I also give most humble thanks that the river has now frozen. When I bring the scriptures back I shall report all this to the Tang Emperor and reward you sincerely.” When he had finished his prayer he told Friar Sand to saddle the horse so that they could cross the river while it was frozen. “Please do not be in such a hurry,” said old Mr. Chen. “Stay here a few more days until the ice has melted and I shall arrange for a boat to carry you across.”
“I don't know whether we should go or stay,” said Friar Sand. “You can't rely on what people say, and you can only believe what you see with your own eyes. I'll saddle the horse and you can take a look for yourself.”
“A good suggestion,” said old Mr. Chen. “Servants,” he ordered, “saddle six of our horses, but not the Tang Priest's horse.”
Then with six young pages in attendance they went in line to the bank of the river to look. Indeed:
The snow is piled up like mountains,
When the clouds disappear the dawn is bright.
A thousand pinnacles soar above the ice-locked pass;
Frozen rivers and lakes are completely smooth.
The North wind chills to the bone,
The slippery ice is bitterly cold.
The fish stay by the plants in the pond,
The wild birds linger in the stubble.
Beyond the frontier fingers are lost to frostbite;
The boatman on the river breaks his teeth with shivering.
Snakes' stomachs split,
Birds' legs break:
The ice forms mountains thousands of feet high.
The flowing silver stops in ten thousand valleys;
Cold is the river's liquid jade.
The East produces frozen silkworms,
And mice make their holes in the Northern ice.
Wang Xiang lay on the ice to melt it
And caught a carp for his mother to eat.
When the Emperor Guangwu crossed the river
A bridge of ice formed overnight for him.
Many are the layers of ice on the pond,
And the deep pool is frozen solid.
There are no more waves on the mighty River of Heaven;
The gleaming ice stretches out as hard as a road.
When Sanzang and his party reached the bank of the river they reined in their horses to look and saw that there really were people setting out from where the road reached the bank. “Benefactor,” asked Sanzang, “where are those people going to across the ice?”
“On the other side of the river,” said old Mr. Chen, “is the Womanland of Western Liang. Those people are all traders. What costs a hundred cash on this side can be worth ten thousand over there and vice versa, and it's because such big profits can be made for such a small expenditure that people risk their lives to go there. Normally they form groups of five to a dozen or so and sail across, but now that the river has frozen over they are prepared to walk over at mortal peril.”
“Fame and profit are what make the world go round,” said Sanzang. “They are risking their lives for profit, and my disciples loyally obey orders for the sake of fame: there's not much to choose between them.” He then told Monkey to go back to their benefactors' house, pack the luggage, and bridle and saddle the horse so that they could head West while the ice held. Monkey agreed with a chuckle.
“Master,” said Friar Sand, “there's a saying that goes, 'For a thousand days you need a thousand pints of rice.' Now that we are staying at the Chen house why don't we wait here a few days longer till the skies have cleared and the ice melted then get a boat to take us across? Rushing like this will only lead to trouble.”
“Wujing,” Sanzang replied, “how can you be so stupid? If it were March and the weather were warming up every day we could wait for it to thaw. But now it is September and it is getting cooler very day, so it would be absurd to wait for the thaw. It would set our journey a long time back.”
“Stop all that idle chatter,” said Pig, jumping down from his horse. “I'm going to find out how thick the ice is.”
“You idiot,” said Monkey, “you could test the depth of the water the other evening by throwing a stone into it, but you could never do that now that the ice is so thick.”
“What you don't understand, brother,” said Pig, “is that I can hit it with my rake. If I smash through it, it's too thin for us to walk on; but if I don't move it at all that'll show it's thick enough for us to cross.”
“What you say is right,” observed Sanzang. The idiot hitched up his clothes, strode to the edge of the river, raised his rake with both hands, and brought it down with all his might. There was a hollow thump as nine white scars appeared on the ice. His hand had been painfully jarred.
“We can go,” said the idiot with a grin, “we can go. It's frozen solid right down to the bottom.”
The news delighted Sanzang, who took them all back to the Chen house and told them to prepare to travel. Seeing that repeated pleas were not going to make their visitors stay the two old men gave them some dry cooked grain, buns and steamed bread. The whole household kowtowed to the monks in respect then carried out a tray of silver and gold pieces and knelt before them. “We are so grateful to you gentlemen for saving the lives of our children that we would like to offer you this towards the cost of a meal on the journey.”
Sanzang shook his head and waved his hand as he refused to accept it. “I am a monk,” he said, “and what would I want with money? I would never be able to produce it on the journey. We have to beg for what we eat. The food you have given us will be plenty.” When the old men repeatedly implored them to accept it Monkey took just under half an ounce of it between his fingers that he handed to Sanzang with the words, “Master, accept this offering so as not to be ungrateful to the two old gentlemen.”
“It's hard going, Master,” said Friar Sand.
“Wait,” said Pig. “Ask old Mr. Chen for some rice straw.”
“What for?” Brother Monkey asked.
“You wouldn't know,” said Pig. “If you wrap rice straw round the horse's hoofs it won't slip and the master won't fall off.” When old Mr. Chen heard this from the bank he at once sent someone back to fetch a bundle of rice straw from the house, then invited Sanzang to dismount while Pig wrapped the straw round the horse's hoofs, after which they set out across the ice.
When they had taken their leave of the old Chen brothers and gone a mile or so from the bank Pig handed the nine-ringed monastic staff to Sanzang.
“Master,” he said, “hold this staff sticking out sideways as you ride.”
“You idiot,” said Monkey, “you're trying another dirty trick. You're meant to be carrying the staff, so why are you giving it to the master to carry?”
“You've never walked across ice,” said Pig, “so you wouldn't know that there are always crevasses. Step on one and you'll go in. If you don't have something like a carrying-pole sticking out sideways then you'll fall into the water and have no more chance of climbing out that if you were in a big pot with a lid on it. You've got to have a prop like this to be safe.”
“This idiot must have years of experience of walking on ice,” thought Monkey, smiling to himself, and they took Pig's advice: the venerable elder held his monastic staff sideways, Monkey his iron cudgel, Friar Sand his demon-quelling staff and Pig, who had the luggage on a carrying-pole over his shoulder, held his rake sideways at waist height. Thus master and disciples pressed ahead without worry until nightfall, when they ate some of their dry rations. Not daring to delay, they hurried on over the ice that glistened and reflected the light of the moon and the stars across its white expanses. The horse never rested for a moment nor did master and disciples close their eyes as they kept going all night. They ate some more dry rations at dawn and pressed on towards the West.
As they were walking they heard a loud creaking noise from under the ice which so frightened the white horse that it almost fell over. “Disciples,” asked Sanzang with horror, “what was that noise?”