Journey 024: Choice Overload
Zhu Bajie discovers that more potential wives means more problems.
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Transcript
Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 24 of Journey to the West.
Last time, San Zang and company spent the night at a widow’s manor in the mountains. She told them about her immense wealth and her three pretty young daughters, and how they were all looking for husbands. She initially proposed a four-way match between the four pilgrims and her and her daughters. While San Zang, Sun Wukong and Sha Zeng all flatly refused, Zhu Bajie, being the pig that he was, was tempted. Well, more than tempted, actually. He snuck out and secretly worked it out with his hostess that he would in fact stay and be her son-in-law.
As we rejoin the story, while the other three pilgrims, now soon-to-be nominal relatives of the family, had dinner and prepared for bed, their hostess led her newfound son-in-law into the private quarters of the manor. They passed through seemingly countless rooms, and Zhu Bajie tripped over every doorstep.
“Mom, slow down,” he said. “I don’t know how to get around the house. Show me the way.”
“These are the granary, the storehouse, and the mill room,” she told him. “We haven’t even made it to the kitchen yet.”
“Wow! What a big house!” Bajie marveled.
After stumbling around for a while longer, he finally made it into the private quarters.
“My son, your elder Buddhist brother said today is an auspicious date, so I’ve gone ahead and taken you into my house,” the woman told him. “But it’s been such a rush that we haven’t held the proper ceremony yet. Tomorrow morning, you can offer the proper bows.”
“Mom, you’re right,” Bajie said. “Why don’t you sit down right here, and I’ll bow to you a few times, and that can suffice as the ceremony. Won’t that be more efficient?”
The woman chuckled. “Alright. You really are an efficient son-in-law. I’ll sit, and you can bow.”
So in this brightly lit room, Bajie bowed to his mother-in-law. Then he asked, “Mom, which daughter are you giving me?”
“Well, that’s the tricky part. If I marry my eldest daughter to you, then my second daughter might hold a grudge. If I marry the second one to you, then my third daughter might complain. And if I marry the third one to you, my eldest one might take issue. So I haven’t been able to decide yet.”
“Mom, let’s avoid a fight. Just give all three to me. Otherwise all the bickering would throw the home into chaos.”
“What?! You want ALL THREE of my daughters for yourself?!” his mother-in-law exclaimed.
“Mom, listen to you. Everyone has three or four wives and concubines. Even if you had a few more daughters, I would gladly accept them. When I was younger, I learned the secret to endurance. I’ll make sure every one of them is satisfied.”
Well, his mother-in-law wasn’t too fond of that idea, so she suggested a different course instead. “I have a scarf here. Put it on your head to cover up your face, and we’ll let fate make the match. I’ll tell my daughters to walk in front of you. Whichever one you can reach out and grab, she will be your wife.”
Bajie agreed, so he took her scarf and covered his head. Then he said, “Mom, please ask the ladies to come out.”
His mother-in-law now called out her daughters’ panda-esque names. “Zhen Zhen (1,1), Ai Ai (4,4), Lian Lian (2,2). C’mon out. We’re going to let fate make the match!”
With the sound of jade girdles and the fragrance of orchids, the girls came out like fairies. As they walked past him, Zhu Bajie reached out clumsily and tried to grab them. Yet no matter how hard he tried, no one fell into his grasp. It sounded like he was surrounded by women, and yet whenever he reached out, the only things he could grab hold of were the columns and the walls. Soon, he was getting dizzy and couldn’t stand straight. Stumbling around, he crashed face-first into a wall, leaving him bruised, on his butt, and huffing and puffing.
“Mom, your daughters are too nimble and slippery!” he fretted. “I couldn’t catch any of them. What should we do?!”
His mother-in-law took the scarf off his head and said, “My son, it’s not that my daughters are slippery. They were all yielding to one another, each refusing to take you for herself.”
“Mom, if they refuse to marry me, then why don’t you just marry me?”
“What? What kind of son-in-law are you? Know your place. How dare you chase after your mother-in-law?!” the woman exclaimed. Then, after thinking for a moment, she said, “My daughters are very adept at handcrafts. They have each weaved a silk undershirt studded with pearls. How about, whichever one’s shirt fits you, then that’s the one you’ll marry.”
“Great! Great! Quick, bring all three shirts out and let me try them on. If I can wear all three, then I’ll just marry all three of them!”
The woman went into the back and returned with one of the shirts. Bajie removed his blue robe and put on the shirt. But before he even had a chance to fasten the strap, he suddenly collapsed to the floor. Instead of a shirt, he found himself bound by several ropes, which were so tight that they bit painfully into his skin. As he groaned in pain, he looked around and saw that his mother-in-law and future wives had all vanished.
When morning came, San Zang, Sun Wukong, and Sha Zeng woke up. But when they opened their eyes, the fancy manor that they had gone to bed in the night before had disappeared. Instead, they found themselves sleeping in a forest of pine and cypress trees. San Zang called out to his disciples in alarm, while Sha Zeng said to Wukong, “Brother, we must have encountered ghosts!”
Sun Wukong, however, knew what was going on, thanks to having spotted some telltale signs the day before. He smiled and asked, “What do you mean?”
San Zang said, “Look at where we’re sleeping!”
“It’s comfortable here in the woods,” Wukong chuckled. “But I wonder where that dum-dum is suffering.”
“What do you mean?”
Wukong laughed and explained, “That family of women must have been some Bodhisattvas, waiting here to teach us a lesson. They must have taken off in the middle of the night, but not before they put Zhu Bajie through some sort of ordeal.”
Hearing this, San Zang pressed his palms together and bowed to heaven to pay his respects to the bodhisattvas. Then, they noticed a piece of paper attached to an old cypress tree. Sha Zeng brought it over to his master, and it said:
Though the Old Dame of Li (2) Mountain had no desire,
Guanyin invited her to leave her mount.
Puxian (3,2) and Wenshu (2,1), too, were guests,
In the woods, they turned into maidens fair.
The holy monk proved virtuous and truly chaste,
But Bajie was profane and loved things mundane.
Henceforth he must repent with quiet heart,
For if he’s slothful, the way will be hard.
So just as Wukong suspected, this was a test put on by Guanyin and some of her friends. The Old Dame of Li Mountain was a fairy in Daoist mythology who, according to legends, trained heroines in every age. Puxian (3,2) and Wenshu, meanwhile, were fellow Bhodisattvas.
While San Zang and company were discussing their encounter, they suddenly heard a voice ring out from deep in the woods, shouting, “Master, it’s killing me! Save me! I will never dare to do this again!”
“Wukong, could that be Bajie?” San Zang asked.
“It must be,” Sha Zeng agreed.
But Wukong said, “Brother, forget about him; let’s go.”
But San Zang disagreed. “That idiot may be foolish, but he’s at least fairly honest. Plus, he’s strong and can carry the luggage. On account of the Bodhisattva previously showing him compassion, let’s save him and take him with us. I don’t think he will dare to commit such an offense again.”
So Sha Zeng tidied up their things, while Wukong unhitched the horse. They then escorted San Zang deeper into the woods to look for Zhu Bajie. After some searching, they found him trussed up to a tree, moaning and groaning.
Approaching the bound pig, Wukong laughed, “Hey good son-in-law, it’s late in the morning. Why haven’t you gotten up to thank your parents and pay your respects to master? Why are you here playing games? Hey, where’s your wife? What a good son-in-law, all bound and beaten!”
Well, at this point, Zhu Bajie could do nothing but suffer his taunts in silence while he endured the pain. Sha Zeng, though, being the kind-hearted one in the group, couldn’t bear to see his fellow disciple like this. So he put down the luggage and untied Zhu Bajie, who kowtowed to his fellow pilgrims and was covered in shame. He then picked up a pinch of soil as incense and kowtowed toward the heavens.
“Do you recognize those bodhisattvas?” Wukong asked him.
“I was all dizzy and cross-eyed; how could I recognize any of them?”
Wukong handed him the message they found. That only added to Bajie’s shame. And even Sha Zeng got in a little good-natured dig, telling him, “Brother, what good luck for you. You’re so impressive that FOUR bodhisattvas wanted to marry you!”
“Brother, never mention this again; I’m so embarrassed I could die!” Bajie pleaded. “From now on, I will not dare to act up again. Even if I break my bones, I will carry the load and follow master to the West.”
“Now THAT is the right thing to say,” San Zang told him.
The group now resumed their journey West along the main road. After traveling for some days, they saw another mountain blocking the road ahead. San Zang reined in his horse and said, “My pupils, there’s a mountain up ahead. We must be careful. There might be demons who will try to harm us.”
“As long as you have the three of us, there’s no need to fear any demons,” Wukong reassured him.
And so, San Zang continued forward. When they got closer to the mountain, they saw that instead of treacherous place like they were expecting, it was a beautiful, divine setting. Cranes, monkeys, and other friendly creatures frolicked. Exotic trees and plants thrived. This was the kind of place that an immortal might call home.
As they feasted their eyes on the view, San Zang said happily, “Ever since I started West, I have crossed many mountains and rivers, and they were all treacherous terrains. But this mountain is beautiful. Could we be nearing the Thunderclap Temple? We should tidy up to prepare to meet the Buddha.”
Wukong laughed and replied, “No no, we’re nowhere near.”
“How far are we from the Thunderclap Temple?” Sha Zeng asked.
“It’s 108,000 miles away. We haven’t even covered 1/10th of the journey yet.”
“Brother, how many years will it take to get there?!” Bajie griped.
“Well, for the two of you, it would take about 10 days or so. For me, I can make the trip 50 times in a single day before it gets dark. But for our master, let’s not even think about it.”
But San Zang pressed him, and Wukong said, “If you travel from your youth until you grow old, and then from your old age back to your youth again, and then repeat it a thousand times, you’ll still find it difficult to reach the place you want to go to. But when you perceive, by the resoluteness of your will, the Buddha nature in all things, and when every one of your thoughts goes back to its very source in your memory, then that will be the time you arrive at the Spirit Mountain.”
Umm, so if this “journey” is more of a metaphorical spiritual quest than an actual trip to the geographical West, then why the hell are we all walking ourselves ragged? Anyway, Sha Zeng said to Wukong, “Brother, even though this is not the Thunderclap Temple, judging from the view, there must be a sage living here.”
“Of course,” Wukong replied. “There must be a sage monk or an immortal here. Let’s take our time and enjoy the view.”
Well, as it turns out, they were right about this being the abode of someone special. This was called Longevity Mountain. On this mountain, there is a Daoist sanctuary called the Five Villages Abbey. In that abbey resided an immortal called Master Zhenyuan (4,2), with the moniker Lord Equal to Earth. Now, he was a pretty high-level immortal. He’s regarded as the patriarch of all of the Earth’s immortals in the Daoist pantheon. He rubs elbows with the Three Purities, who are considered pure manifestations of the Dao and the three highest gods of Daoism. So by all accounts, this Master Zhenyuan was a powerful being.
In addition to his powers, he also possessed a special treasure. It was a tree that sprang from a divine root that existed from the time when the universe first came into being, even before heaven and earth were separated from one another. This special tree was called the “Grass-Returning Cinnabar” or the “Ginseng Fruit”, or also translated as Manfruit. This tree bloomed once every 3,000 years, then took another 3,000 years to bear fruit, and the fruits took another 3,000 years to ripen. So eating the fruits was a once-in-10,000-years kind of thing. And each time, this tree only bore 30 fruits in all. What’s more, these fruits resembled three-day-old infants, complete with limbs, eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Those lucky enough to get a taste of this rarest of fruits would add 360 years to their lives just by sniffing its fragrance. If they actually ate one of these baby fruits or fruit babies, they would add 47,000 years to their lives. So yeah, I think I could get over any squeamishness about biting off the head of a baby-like apple for that.
Anyway, the day that the pilgrims arrived on Longevity Mountain, Master Zhenyuan had received an invitation from Heavenly Primogenitor, one of the Three Purities and, as we know from Investiture of the Gods, the founder of the Chan Sect of Daoism. Heavenly Primogenitor asked Zhenyuan to go to his palace in the sky to attend a lecture he was giving. So Zhenyuan departed with 46 of his current stable of 48 students. He left the two youngest acolytes at the sanctuary to house-sit.
These two newbies were called Clear Wind and Bright Moon. Clear Wind was only 1,320 years old, while Bright Moon was just 1,200 years old, so they were basically teenagers in Daoist terms. And just like any parent leaving a teenager behind to watch the house, Zhenyuan left them detailed instructions.
“I can’t decline Heavenly Primogenitor’s invitation and must go attend his lecture,” Zhenyuan told his two young acolytes. “You two must watch the sanctuary carefully. Within the day, an old friend of mine will be passing through. You must not neglect him. Also, you may harvest two of my ginseng fruits for him to eat, as a sign of my past friendship with him.”
“Who is your old friend, master?” the acolytes asked. “Please tell us so we can welcome him properly.”
“He is a sage monk sent by the Tang emperor of the East. His name is San Zang. He is currently traveling West to see the Buddha and fetch scripture.”
The two acolytes laughed. “Confucius said, ‘One does not take counsel with those who follow a different path.’ We’re Daoists. How did we become friends with that monk?”
“What do you know?” Zhenyuan explained. “That monk is a reincarnation of Golden Cicada, the second disciple of the Buddha. Five hundred years ago, he and I met at the Feast of the Ullambana Bowl. He personally offered me tea. That’s why I consider him an old friend.”
Hearing this, the two acolytes promised to obey their master’s command. But before he left, he reminded them, “All of my fruits are numbered. Only give him two, no more.”
Clear Wind replied, “When the garden was opened, we all shared two of the fruits, so there are still 28 on the tree. We would not dare to harvest more.”
Zhenyuan added, “San Zang may be my old friend, but you must guard against the other members of his party. Don’t let them know about the fruits.”
The acolytes accepted his instructions, and then Zhenyuan and the rest of his disciples took off for heaven, assured in the knowledge that nothing unsanctioned will happen to his precious fruits.
Later that day, our pilgrims were taking in the view while they traveled through the mountain when they spotted a grove of pine and bamboo, surrounding a number of towers and pavilions.
“Wukong, what do you think that place is?” San Zang asked.
“It’s either a Daoist sanctuary or a Buddhist shrine. We’ll know once we get a little closer,” Wukong answered.
Soon, they arrived at the door to the sanctuary and saw that it was a truly spiritual place, as described in verse:
The pine-covered slopes are serene and cool,
The bamboo-lined paths are quiet and pure.
White cranes come and go, carrying drifting clouds,
Monkeys climb and leap, at times offering fruit.
Before the gate, a wide pond reflects the long shadows of trees,
Cracked stones sprout moss and scattered wildflowers.
Palaces stand in solemn ranks, rising to the purple heights,
Towers loom ethereal, shrouded in falling rosy clouds.
Truly this is a blessed and sacred land, a cloud-hidden grotto like Penglai (2,2).
With few worldly affairs, the heart of the Dao awakens in stillness.
Azure birds often deliver messages from the Queen Mother of the West,
Purple phoenixes frequently bring scriptures from the Lord Lao.
Endless is the lofty aura of moral virtue—
Indeed, a tranquil abode of immortals beyond the mortal realm.
San Zang dismounted and noticed a sign to the left of the main door, which said, “The blessed grounds of Longevity Mountain, the celestial realm of Five Villages Temple”.
“It really is a Daoist sanctuary,” he said to his disciples.
Sha Zeng piped up, “master, judging by the scenery, there must be someone special inside. Let’s go in to have a look. When we have finished our mission and are heading back East, this would be a worthwhile place to stop in.”
So they all went in and saw a couplet on the doors. They said: “An immortal’s abode of everlasting life; a Daoist’s home whose longevity matches the heavens.”
Wukong chuckled, “Well this Daoist must be lying and bragging. When I caused a row in heaven 500 years ago, I didn’t see such boasting on Laozi’s doors.”
“Oh who cares! Let’s go in,” Zhu Bajie said. “Maybe this Daoist actually has some cultivation. Who knows?”
When they approached the second set of doors, they saw two young acolytes rush out. They looked graceful and refined, with fair faces and hair tied in twin knots in the style of youths. Their Daoist robes swirled with mist at the collar and feathered sleeves fluttered in the wind. They wore waistbands with dragon-head knots and straw sandals bound with soft silken threads.
These were Clear Wind and Bright Moon, the 1,000-year-old kids that Master Zhenyuan (4,2) had left in charge. They welcomed San Zang courteously and invited him inside to sit. He was pleased and followed them into the main hall. This was a large parlor facing South, decorated with carved lattice panels. The acolytes invited San Zang in, and he saw on the center wall two large characters that said “Heaven” and “Earth”. In front of it sat a red incense table, on which sat a golden incense burner and tools for lighting incense.
San Zang approached the table, lit some incense, put it into the burner, and bowed three times. Then, he turned back to the acolytes and asked, “Your Five Villages Temple is truly an immortal land of the West. But why do you only offer incense to the characters Heaven and Earth instead of the Three Puritities, the Four Emperors, or all the lords of the celestial heaven?”
The acolytes laughed and replied, “Elder, to tell you the truth, of those two characters, the one on top might deserve our reverence. The one on the bottom is only there because of flattery on our master’s part.”
“What do you mean ‘flattery’?” a befuddled San Zang asked.
“The Three Purities are our master’s friends. The Four Emperors are his old acquaintances. The Nine Luminaries are his juniors, and the Celestial Spirits of Fate are his B-list guests.”
At that, Sun Wukong started doubling over laughing, prompting Zhu Bajie to ask him what’s up.
“And I thought I knew how to BS!” Wukong said as he guffawed. “Turns out these acolytes are even bigger liars!”
Ignoring his snark, San Zang asked the acolytes where their master was, and they told him, “Our master was invited by Heavenly Primogenitor to go to heaven to listen to a lecture, so he’s not home.”
“That’s enough, you lying kids!” Wukong shouted. “Don’t you know whose leg you’re pulling?! Who in heaven would invite your two-bit master to a lecture?!”
Eager to defuse a potential squabble, San Zang checked his disciple. “Wukong, don’t argue. It would be rude to come in and turn right around and leave. As the saying goes, ‘Herons don’t eat heron meat.’ Since their master isn’t home, why hassle them? You go take the horse to graze out front. Sha Zeng, you watch our luggage. Have Bajie unpack our things. Borrow some grain and their kitchen to make a meal. When we leave, give them a few coins for the firewood, and that’s that. Go tend to your duties, and I’ll rest here a bit. After we eat, we’ll leave.”
While the three disciples went off to carry out their responsibilities, the two acolytes were secretly impressed with San Zang. “What a good monk,” they thought to themselves. “He really is a Western sage reincarnated into the mortal realm. He still retains his true essence.”
And then they remembered their master’s instructions to serve his old friend a couple of the ginseng fruits, but to be on guard about his old friend’s disciples.
Clear Wind said to Bright Moon, “Brother, are we sure that monk is the old friend our master spoke of? Let’s ask him some questions to make sure.”
So they approached their guest and asked if he was the Tang San Zang sent by the Tang Kingdom to go West to fetch scriptures. San Zang answered in the affirmative and asked how they knew his name.
“Before he left, our master instructed us to welcome you,” they told him. “But we were slow in coming to greet you. Please pardon us. Have a seat, and we’ll serve you tea.”
Bright Moon brought out a cup of fragrant tea for San Zang. The two acolytes then took their leave and returned to their room. There, one of them fetched a golden striker, while the other grabbed a cinnabar tray, on which he laid a silk cloth. The two now went to the Ginseng Garden. Clear Wind climbed up the Ginseng Fruit Tree and used the golden striker to knock down two ginseng fruits. Bright Moon waited under the tree and caught them with the tray.
They now went back to the parlor and said to San Zang, “Elder, our temple is in a remote place and we have nothing to offer except these two local fruits. Please use them to quench your thirst.”
But when they presented the tray, San Zang was shocked and said while trembling, “Mercy, mercy! The harvest was good this year. What reason could you possibly have to eat people? These are newborn infants. How can you offer them to me to quench my thirst?”
Clear Wind thought to himself, “This monk is spewing nonsense. His mortal eyes don’t recognize our exotic treasure.”
Bright Moon explained to San Zang, “Elder, this is called the ginseng fruit. It’s fine to eat one.”
“Nonsense! Nonsense!” San Zang protested. “How much suffering did their mothers endure to birth them? And yet, before they’re even three days old, you’re using them as fruit?”
“But these really DID grow from a tree!” Clear Wind said.
“Nonsense! Nonsense! How can people grow from trees? Take it away. How inhumane!”
With their guest obstinately refusing their precious offering, the two acolytes had no choice but to take the fruits back to their own room. Now, apparently these ginseng fruits don’t keep for long once they’ve been harvested, as they would harden quickly. So hey, why let a good thing go to waste? The two acolytes now sat on the edge of their beds and helped themselves to the unexpected treats while having a good laugh over what an ignoramus their supposed honored guest was.
Well, as it so happened, right next to their room was the kitchen. And in the kitchen at the moment, Zhu Bajie was busy cooking. But he overheard the acolytes’ chatter and listened in. And it sure was convenient that their conversation was full of helpful exposition, including a complete tutorial on how you need to have the golden striker and the cinnabar tray to harvest these fruits. And as he listened to them munch their special treats, Zhu Bajie started drooling and hankering for a taste. But he also figured he was way too much of a klutz to secure said illicit fruits discreetly. So he waited for Sun Wukong to come back. Meanwhile, he lost all interest in cooking and just kept poking his head out to look for Wukong.
After a short while, Wukong came back from grazing. He hitched up the horse and went toward the back. But he heard someone go, “Pssst, over here! Over here!” He turned and saw Bajie frantically waving him over to the kitchen.
Well this can only be good. To see what shenanigans they will get into, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening!
Music in This Episode
- “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM
- “The Quiet Aftermath by Sir Cubworth (from YouTube audio library)
- “Day of Recon” by Max Surla/Media Right Productions (from YouTube audio library)