Journey 025: Fruit Loot
The perfect heist blows up in everybody’s faces.
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Transcript
Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 25 of Journey to the West.
Last time, our pilgrims came across a sacred place called Longevity Mountain. On that mountain lived a powerful Daoist named Master Zhenyuan (4,2), who was a friend of San Zang’s back when San Zang was the second disciple of Buddha many reincarnations ago. This Zhenyuan was the proud owner of a one-of-a-kind ginseng fruit tree, whose fruits looked like three-day-old infants, were the rarest of delicacies, and could add 47,000 years to your life. Zhenyuan was off at a Daoist academic conference at the time, but he had left two acolytes in charge, with instructions to welcome San Zang when he passed through, give him two of the ginseng fruits, but to BE ON GUARD against the antics of his disciples.
The two acolytes did as their master instructed when San Zang and his party dropped by to gawk like tourists. But when they offered him the fruits, he freaked out and thought they were offering him 3-day-old infants as a snack. Rebuffed, the acolytes retreated to their room and ate the two ginseng fruits themselves. But as they did so, San Zang’s second disciple, Zhu Bajie, overheard them talking about the fruits and started itching for a bite.
Once his fellow disciple Sun Wukong came back from grazing, Bajie waved him over to the kitchen.
“Dum dum, what are you all worked up about?” Wukong asked as he walked over. “Do we not have enough rice? In that case, let the old monk eat his fill. When we come across a wealthy household farther down the road, we can go beg for more food.”
“Come in here!” Bajie said. “I’m not talking about rice. Did you know that there is a treasure here?”
“What treasure?”
Oh well now. So I know something you don’t, huh? Bajie put on some airs and said with a chuckle, “Even if I tell you, you won’t have seen it. And even if I show it to you, you won’t know what it is.”
“Dum dum, quit kidding around. Five hundred years ago, when I was seeking out immortals, I traveled to the ends of the earth. What haven’t I seen?”
“Ginseng fruit. Have you seen it?”
“Hmm, now THAT I honestly haven’t seen. But I have often heard it said that ginseng fruit is also called the Herbal Elixir of Reversion, and that eating one can add many years to your life. Where can we get some?”
“Right here! Those acolytes brought two for master. But that old monk didn’t recognize the treasures and thought they were 3-day-old babies. So he didn’t dare to eat them. And curse those lazy acolytes. If our master doesn’t want to eat them, then they should have offered the fruits to you and me. But instead, they kept us in the dark and ate the fruits themselves in the next room. When I heard them eating, it made my mouth water. How can we get a taste? I figure you’re a slippery one. How about you go to their garden and steal a few for us to try?”
“That’s easy!” Wukong said. “I’ll get them for sure.”
But as he turned to leave, Bajie pulled him back and said, “Brother, I heard them say in the next room that you need some kind of golden striker to harvest the fruits. But don’t get caught.”
“Got it, got it,” Wukong said. He then cast an invisibility spell and sneaked into the next room. The two acolytes had by now devoured the fruits and returned to the parlor to talk with San Zang. So there was no one in the room. Wukong looked around for something that looked like a “golden striker.” He saw a strip of gold hanging by the window. It was about 2 feet long and about the thickness of a finger. At one end was a head shaped like a garlic bulb. The other end had a small hole with a green string attached.
“This must be the golden striker,” Wukong said as he grabbed it and left the room. He went to the back of the abbey, pushed open a double door, and saw a magnificent garden, filled with beautiful flowers and exotic plants, but no ginseng fruit. He looked around the garden and noticed another door. He opened that one and saw a vegetable garden, filled with vegetables for all seasons.
“Well, looks like they grow their own food here,” Wukong chuckled. He walked through this garden as well and pushed open another door. Eureka!
In front of him stood a giant tree. Its green branches were lush and fragrant, and its leaves formed a dense, shadowy canopy. The leaves looked like banana leaves. The trunk soared upward for more than a thousand feet, and its base was about eight yards around. Looking up from under the tree, Wukong saw a ginseng fruit peeking out from a branch facing south. It indeed looked like a baby. It was attached to the branch by a small stem. It bobbed on the branch as if it were nodding, and when a breeze blew, it almost seemed to make a sound.
Wukong was delighted and said to himself, “What a treasure! Truly a rare sight!”
He now leaned on the tree and, with a whoosh, clambered up its trunk. I mean, he was a monkey after all. Climbing trees for fruits was kinda second nature to him. He struck a fruit with the golden striker, and it knocked the fruit off the branch and onto the ground below. But when Wukong leaped back down, he searched all around and saw no sign of the fallen treat.
“So weird! Even if it could walk, it couldn’t have jumped over the wall,” Wukong wondered. “Ah, I know! It must be the earth spirit in this garden trying to keep the fruit from me.”
So Wukong muttered an incantation that summoned the garden’s earth spirit. The spirit bowed to Wukong and asked what’s up.
“Don’t you know that I’m a renowned thief?! Back in the day, when I was stealing immortal peaches, celestial wine, and Laozi’s magic pills, no one dared to try to get a cut. So how dare you steal a measly fruit from me today? That fruit was growing on the tree. Even birds flying by can eat them. So what’s the harm of me eating one? How dare you shark it as soon as I knocked it down?”
“Great Sage, you’re blaming me for nothing,” the spirit explained. “That treasure belongs to the Earth immortals, while I’m but a ghost immortal. How would I dare to take it? I’m not even lucky enough to get a whiff.”
“Well, if you didn’t take it, why did it disappear when it fell off?”
“Great Sage, you only know that this treasure can bestow long life; you don’t know its intricacies.”
“What intricacies?”
“This treasure flowers once every 3,000 years, bears fruit every 3,000 years, and ripens every 3,000 years. In almost 10,000 years, it grows only 30 fruits. Those lucky enough to smell them will live for 365 years. Those who eat one will live for 47,000 years. But it’s allergic to the five elements.”
“How so?”
“This fruit falls when it touches gold, rots when it touches wood, melts when it touches water, chars when it meets fire, and when it meets earth, it submerges. When you harvest it, you must knock it down with a golden striker and catch it with a tray that’s lined with silk cloth. If you put it on a wooden vessel, it will decay, and eating it won’t give you long life. And when you’re eating it, you must dip it in clear water in a porcelain vessel so that it will start to dissolve. It will be useless if it meets fire, and if it touches the earth, it will go into it. So when you knocked it to the ground just now, it must have gone into the soil. This soil is 47,000 years old. Even a steel drill can’t penetrate it. It’s three or four times harder than raw iron. That’s why when people eat the fruit grown from this soil, they can gain long life. If you don’t believe me, try hitting the ground.”
Wukong indeed pulled out his rod and smacked the ground hard. With a loud clang, the rod bounced off the soil but left no mark at all.
“Wow, it really is hard!” Wukong exclaimed. “My rod can turn rocks into powder and would leave a mark on metal. Yet it didn’t even scratch this soil. Looks like I really did blame you unfairly. Alright, you may go.”
So the earth spirit took his leave and went back to his abode, without so much as a peep about hey did you have permission to come harvest these rare fruits by the way? In any case, Wukong was alone again, and this time, he had a plan. He clambered up the tree once more. This time, he held the golden striker in one hand. And in the other, he lifted up the front of his brocade robe and used it as a basket to catch the harvest. In this way, he knocked three ginseng fruits into his makeshift linen basket. He then leaped off the tree and sneaked back into the kitchen.
“Brother, brother, do you have it?” a smiling Zhu Bajie asked.
“Isn’t this it?” Wukong said as he flashed the fruits. “I told you I’d get them. But let’s not leave out Sha Zeng. Go fetch him.”
So Bajie called out Sha Zeng, and the third disciple came running into the kitchen to see what’s up.
“Brother, do you know what THESE are?” Wukong asked slyly as he showed the bounty.
“Ginseng fruits!” Sha Zeng replied.
“What? How do you recognize them? Where have you eaten one?” Wukong asked.
“Oh I haven’t eaten one. But back when I was the Curtain-Raising Captain, I followed the Jade Emperor to the Immortal Peach Festival. I once saw a foreign immortal offer this to his queen. So I’ve seen it, but haven’t had it. Brother, can I try some?”
“Of course. Let’s each have one,” Wukong said as he distributed a fruit to each of his brothers.
Well, Zhu Bajie, being a pig and having been craving this treat since he heard the acolytes eating them, wolfed his down in one gulp. And then, he just stared at his brothers and asked them, “Hey, what are you guys eating?”
“Ginseng fruit,” Sha Zeng answered.
“Brother, pay him no mind,” Wukong scoffed. He then turned to Bajie and said, “You already ate yours, so why are you asking us about ours?”
“Brother, I ate mine a bit too quickly. You guys are chewing it slowly and tasting the real flavor. I just swallowed mine and didn’t even taste it. Brother, one should follow through to the end. Since you’ve already got my appetite going, can you go get another one so I can truly taste it?”
“Brother, you really don’t know any better!” Wukong lectured him. “This is not like rice or flour. It’s not something you eat to get full. It takes 10,000 years to grow 30 of these. To get to eat just one is the greatest of good fortunes. Don’t take it lightly. Enough already!”
As he spoke, Wukong got up and threw the golden striker through a hole in the papier mache window and back into the acolytes’ room, leaving Zhu Bajie to grumble.
Well, these paper-thin walls work both ways. Just as Zhu Bajie had overheard the acolytes talking in the next room, his gripes now wafted through the wall and into the next room, where they found the ears of the two acolytes as they went into the room to make tea for San Zang.
When they heard Bajie grumbling, “This ginseng fruit is not fun to eat. I need another one,” Clear Wind said to fellow acolyte Bright Moon, “Did you hear that long-snout monk talk about wanting ANOTHER ginseng fruit? When our master left, he told us to watch out for those disciples. Could they have stolen our treasure?”
Looking around, Bright Moon said, “Brother, this is bad! How did the golden striker end up on the floor? Let’s go check the garden!”
When they rushed to the garden, they saw its doors open, which only increased their alarm. They ran in and saw the door to the vegetable garden also open. Uh oh, this wasn’t looking good. When they finally got to the ginseng garden, they stood under the tree and started counting the fruits on it. They came up with only 22.
Bright Moon said, “We had 30 fruits. When master opened the garden, he distributed two of the fruits, so that left 28. Then we harvested two for that Tang monk, so that leaves 26. But now we only have 22 left. We’re missing four. That clinches it! Those villains must have stolen them. Let’s have it out with that Tang monk!”
So the two of them stormed into the front parlor, pointed at San Zang, and started hurling the worst insults you could imagine coming out of the mouths of two 1,000-year-old Daoist acolytes who looked like teenagers.
San Zang was shocked and confused. “Acolytes, why are you cursing me?” he asked. “Please stop for a second. We can talk, but there’s no need to hurl slander.”
“Are you deaf?!” Clear Wind said. “Or am I speaking in a barbarian tongue that you don’t understand?! You stole our ginseng fruit. Why can’t I curse you?”
“What does a ginseng fruit look like?” San Zang asked.
“We just brought some for you to eat, and you said they looked like babies!”
“Mercy, mercy! As soon as I see those things, I am scared out of my mind. How would I dare to steal them and eat them? Even if I got greedy, I would not dare to commit such a theft. Don’t make false accusations.”
“You may not have eaten them, but your people must have,” Clear Wind said.
“Hmm, you have a point. Please hold on for a second. Let me ask them. If they did steal the fruits, I’ll have them pay you back.”
“Pay?! Even if you have the money, you can’t buy them!” Bright Moon shot back.
“If that’s the case, as the saying goes, ‘Honor is worth a thousand taels of gold.’ I’ll have them apologize to you. But let’s see if they actually did it first.”
And with that, San Zang shouted, “Pupils, come in here!”
Down the hall, Sha Zeng heard his master’s command and went, “Uh oh, let’s break it up quick. Master is calling us. And I hear those acolytes cursing. Could they be on to us?”
“Ah, this is so embarrassing,” Wukong lamented. “It’s just food. If we confess, it would be said that we were greedy. Let’s not confess.”
“Right, right. Let’s just deny it,” Bajie chimed in.
So the trio now left the kitchen and went to the parlor. They said to San Zang, “Master, the rice is almost cooked. What did you call us for?”
“I’m not asking about rice. This abbey has something called the ginseng fruit. It looks like a baby. Which one of you stole it?”
“Uh, you know I’m honest,” Zhu Bajie said. “I don’t know anything about this. I haven’t seen it.”
Clear Wind scoffed and pointed at Wukong, “He’s laughing! He must be the thief!”
Wukong shouted back, “I was born with a smiling face. I haven’t seen your fruit. What? I’m not allowed to smile?”
San Zang cut in, “Wukong, don’t get angry. We monks speak no lies and take no food that stains the heart. If you really ate their fruits, then apologize to them and be done with it. What’s the point of denying it?”
Seeing reason in his master’s words, Wukong came clean and said, “Master, it’s not my fault. It was Bajie who overheard those two acolytes talking about some ginseng fruit. He wanted to try one, so he asked me to go pick three of them. Each of us ate one. The fruits are gone, so what can be done about it?”
But Bright Moon said, “You stole FOUR! You’re such a thief!”
When Zhu Bajie heard that, he shouted at Wukong, “What?! FOUR?! How come you only showed us three? You must have kept one for yourself!”
While that dum-dum was causing a row and demanding Wukong give him the extra fruit, the two acolytes poured on their insults. As he stood and endured their relentless verbal assault, Sun Wukong was PISSED inside. He gritted his teeth while his eyes became round. It was all he could do to keep from exploding.
But then, a thought came to him. “These acolytes are really despicable. They’re pelting us with insults. Fine. I’ll take it for now. But I’ll show them. NOBODY will get to eat the damn fruits.”
So while the insults continued to rain down, Wukong discreetly pulled a hair from the back of his head, blew on it, and whispered, “Change.” It turned into a doppelganger of himself. Leaving this lifelike manikin to take his place and receive the insults alongside his fellow pilgrims, the real Wukong slipped away unseen and flew into the air.
He landed in the ginseng garden and smacked the branches with his golden rod, knocking off all the remaining fruits. And as they hit the ground, they all disappeared into the soil. But Wukong wasn’t done. He now summoned all his strength, and with one powerful push, he knocked the tree on its side, pulling its roots out of the soil. Yeah, how you like your treasure now?!
“Nice! Now let’s all chill!” Wukong chuckled as he admired his handiwork. He then put away his rod, slipped back into the parlor, took the place of his doppelganger, and turned the manakin back into a hair on his head, all without anyone noticing.
After cursing their guests for a seeming eternity, the two acolytes stormed off. But once they were alone, Clear Wind said to Bright Moon, “Those monks could really tolerate insults. We called them names for so long, and they didn’t even make a peep. Could it be that they didn’t actually steal the fruits, and we just miscounted because the tree was so tall and the canopy so thick? Did we falsely accuse them? Let’s go count again.”
So the two returned to the garden. But this time, as soon as they opened the door to the ginseng garden, they collapsed to the ground in shock as they beheld their master’s treasure lying uprooted on the ground.
After they eventually gathered themselves, they lamented, “What should we do?! Our abbey’s sacred roots have been destroyed. Our sect’s lifeblood has been cut off! What would we tell master when he gets back?!”
Then, Bright Moon had an idea. He told Clear Wind, “Brother, don’t cry. Let’s tidy up our clothes and not alarm those monks. There’s been no one else here. It must have been that hair-faced scoundrel. He must have used some magic and destroyed our treasure. If we accuse him, he would deny it. If we come to blows, how can the two of us fend off the four of them? Let’s go tell them that we miscounted and that we aren’t actually missing any fruits. We can apologize to them. Their rice is already cooked. So let them eat, and we can even serve them a few additional vegetable dishes. While they’re busy eating, we can lock them in behind several doors and chain the doors shut. Then, when master gets home, he can deal with them as he sees fit. Besides, that monk is our master’s old friend. If he spares them, then that’s him doing them a favor. If he doesn’t spare them, then we would have caught those thieves, and that should be enough to atone for our offense.”
Clear Wind agreed. So they pulled themselves together, forced themselves to put on a happy face, and came back to the parlor. They bowed to San Zang and said, “Master, we offended you just now with our coarse language. Please excuse us.”
“What do you mean?” an even more confused San Zang asked.
“Oh we aren’t missing any fruits,” Clear Wind said. “The tree was tall and the canopy thick, so we just miscounted. Just now, we counted again, and every fruit was there.”
Zhu Bajie, ever shameless, now stamped his foot and said, “See! You youngins don’t know any better and pelted us with insults for something we didn’t do! How inhumane?!”
Now, Sun Wukong, of course, knew better. He thought to himself, “Hmm, I had already taken care of their fruits, so what’s with all this? Maybe they have powers to revive the dead?”
San Zang now said, “In that case, let’s eat and be on our way.”
So Bajie went to get the rice, while Sha Zeng set up the tables and chairs. The two acolytes also served up some pickled melons, eggplants, carrots, long beans, and such. They also served a pot of good tea and busied themselves tending to the pilgrims while they sat down to eat. But the pilgrims had hardly picked up their bowls when they heard the creak of the doors to the room, followed by the sound of rattling chains outside.
“Oh these kids,” Bajie chuckled. “What kind of lousy custom do they have? How come they shut the doors at meal time?”
From outside, the two acolytes now cursed again.
“Yeah, that’s right! We won’t open the doors until you’re done eating!” Bright Moon scoffed.
Clear Wind then shouted, “You gluttonous, thieving bald scoundrels! Always causing trouble and stealing food! You stole our sacred fruit. That’s already a crime for stealing from the garden. But then you also pushed over our sacred tree and snapped our sacred root. And you still dare to run your mouth?!
When he heard those words, San Zang felt as if a rock had been dropped on his heart, and he set his bowl down. The acolytes now chained the front door and the second-level doors of the abbey shut as well. Then they came back to the parlor where the pilgrims were locked in, and cursed them some more through the doors. Only when it started to get dark did they stop to go eat and then go to bed.
Inside the parlor, San Zang scolded Sun Wukong, “You damn monkey! You’re always causing trouble! Ok, so you stole their fruits. Just swallow your pride and let them throw a few insults at you, and that’d be that. Why did you have to go knock over their tree? If this was taken to court, even if your father was the judge, you won’t get off.”
“Master, don’t panic,” Wukong said. “Those acolytes have gone to bed. Once they’re asleep, we’ll leave at night.”
“But brother, all the doors have been chained shut tight,” Sha Zeng said. “How can we get out?”
“Don’t you worry,” Wukong laughed. “I have my ways.”
But Bajie grumbled, “Yeah I bet you have your ways. You’ll turn into some insect or another and fly out of here. But woe be those of us who can’t transform. We’re gonna be left here to suffer!”
“If he dares to pull that stunt and leave without us, then I’ll read the old sutra again, and he won’t be able to take it,” San Zang told Bajie.
But Bajie chuckled, “Master, what are you talking about? I only know that Buddhism has the Sutra of the Heroic One’s Resolve, the Lotus Sutra, the Peacock King Sutra, the Universal Gateway Chapter, and the Diamond Sutra. I’ve never heard of an Old Sutra.”
“Brother, you don’t know this,” Wukong explained, “but the metal hoop on my head was a gift courtesy of the Bodhisattva Guanyin. She gave it to my master, and he tricked me into putting it on. It stuck as if it grew roots and can’t be removed. That ‘Old Sutra’ he mentioned is called the Band-Tightening Spell. If he reads it, my head will hurt. That’s how he keeps me in line. Master, don’t recite the spell. I would never abandon you. I’ll get everyone out.”
The evening crept by, and soon, the moon had climbed into the night sky. Wukong now said, “All is quiet, and the moon is bright. This is the perfect time to leave.”
“Brother, stop fooling around,” Bajie said. “The doors are all locked. Where would we go?”
“Watch me!”
Wukong took his rod in hand, summoned a lock-openng spell, pointed at the door, and suddenly, they heard the locks outside falling to the floor, and the two doors swung open with a creak.
“Heh, now that’s a skill!” Bajie chuckled. “Not even a furnace boy with his iron poker could get it off so fast.”
“This door is nothing!” Wukong bragged. “Even the Southern Gate of Heaven would open when I point at it.”
He now helped San Zang onto his horse. Bajie carried the luggage, and Sha Zeng led the horse by the reins as the party quietly headed west. But a few steps in, Wukong said, “You all go on ahead. I’m going to help those two acolytes have a good month’s sleep.”
“Wukong, don’t kill them,” San Zang hurriedly said. “We don’t need to add that to our list of offenses.”
“I know, I know,” Wukong said. He then sneaked back into the abbey, and found the room where the acolytes were sleeping. Now, apparently all this time, Sun Wukong had been carrying around some sleeping bugs that he won in a bet with one of the Four Heavenly Kings who patrol the gates of heaven. Well, that’s certainly convenient. He now took out two of the bugs and flicked them into the room through a hole in the paper window. The bugs flew onto the acolytes’ faces, which put them into a heavy slumber.
Satisfied with tying up those loose ends, Wukong now took to the sky and caught up to his party, and they continued westward along the main road. To see what awaited them on that road, 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)
- “Dark Toys” by SYBS (from YouTube audio library)