Journey 061: Lost Luggage
San Zang does the “I don’t want you around anymore!” routine again, but this time, Sun Wukong refuses to take it lying down.
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Transcript
Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 61 of Journey to the West.
Last time, when San Zang was waylaid by a gang of robbers, Sun Wukong had a little fun and killed two of them, sending the rest running for their lives and incurring San Zang’s wrath for killing … umm … “innocents” again. The party pressed on and found lodging at the country residence of an old Mr. Yang and his wife. But it turns out that Mr. Yang’s no-good son was a member of the gang that encountered the pilgrims earlier that day. He and the other members of that gang showed up at Mr. Yang’s house at 4 a.m., demanding food. Mr. Yang’s son soon discovered that the monk who had killed their band leaders were his parents’ Airbnb guests. He told the gang, and they all prepared to kill the pilgrims to avenge their leaders … as soon as they are done eating.
While the bandits prepped for their murderous deed, old Mr. Yang had overheard their plans. He snuck into the backyard where the pilgrims slept and told his guests, “My scoundrel son brought his gang home. They found out you are here and intend to kill you. I couldn’t bear to see you harmed, considering how far you have traveled. Hurry up and pack up your things. I’ll let you out through the back door.”
Trembling, San Zang kowtowed to Mr. Yang to thank him. He then told Bajie to lead the horse, Sha Zeng to carry the luggage, and Wukong to hold his Buddhist staff. Mr. Yang opened the backdoor, let them slip out, and then snuck back into bed.
Around 5 a.m., the bandits had finished eating and sharpening their weapons. They went to the backyard, but there was no one there. They lit some torches and searched around, but couldn’t find any trace of their enemies. They did, however, see the backdoor open, so they rushed out and pursued the pilgrims. It took them until the sun was coming up in the East, but eventually, they saw San Zang and company up ahead.
When San Zang heard shouts behind him, he turned and saw about 30 armed men running toward him.
“Pupils, the bandits have caught up to us! What should we do?!” he cried out in a panic.
Really? You’re in the company of three supernatural protectors — four if you ever count your dragon horse — and you’re panicking because of some random highwaymen who didn’t know any better?
“Don’t worry, master! I’ll deal with them!” Wukong said.
“Wukong, don’t hurt anyone! Just scare them off!” San Zang reminded him.
But that just went in one ear and out the other with Wukong. He took out his rod, turned around, and greeted the bandits, “Hey all! Where are you headed?”
“Bald scoundrel! How dare you?! Give us back our leaders’ lives!” the bandits cursed as they surrounded Wukong and attacked with their knives and spears. But Wukong just waved his rod, and the gang of ruffians started falling left and right. Those who were so much as grazed by the rod were injured; those who got hit squarely died on the spot. Only a few lucky ones managed to escape, while the rest were all shuffled off their mortal coil.
Watching Wukong kill folks left and right, San Zang was so scared that he rode off toward the west, and Zhu Bajie and Sha Zeng hurried after him. Meanwhile, Sun Wukong grabbed one of the few bandits who were merely injured and asked which one was Mr. Yang’s son. Moaning, the man told him that it was the guy in yellow. Wukong promptly went over to the corpse in yellow, picked up a knife, and cut off his head.
Carrying the bloody head in his hand, he put away his rod, and caught up to San Zang. He raised his grisly prize and said, “Master, this is Old Mr. Yang’s unfilial son. I’ve brought you his head.”
San Zang went pale and fell off the horse. He cursed, “This reckless monkey nearly scared me to death! Take it away! Take it away!”
Bajie hurried over, kicked the head over to the side of the road, and used his rake to shovel some dirt over it. Sha Zeng, meanwhile, put down his luggage and helped San Zang to his feet. But San Zang sat on the ground, collected himself, and started muttering the Band-Tightening Spell. It’s been a while since he’s had to do that, but this was the spell that made the metal hoop around Sun Wukong’s head constrict. Wukong’s face turned red, his eyes bulged, and his head swooned as he rolled on the ground, pleading for San Zang to stop.
But San Zang would not stop, not even after he had recited the spell a dozen or so times. Wukong was tumbling in pain and standing on his head, crying out, “Master, forgive me! We can talk! But please stop reciting the spell!”
Only now did San Zang stop and say, “There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t want you to follow me anymore. Go home!”
Oh, we’re doing this again? Talk about not learning your lessons. Wukong, still smarting from the headache, kowtowed and said, “Master, why are you dismissing me?”
“You reckless ape! You’re too vicious to be a scripture pilgrim. Yesterday, when you killed those two bandit leaders at the foot of the mountain, I was already chiding you for your lack of compassion. And then last night at the old man’s house, he was kind enough to feed us and take us in. And then he opened the backdoor to let us escape. Even though his son is no good, it’s none of our business. You should not have cut off his head. And you killed so many others! You’ve taken so many lives that you have disrupted the harmony of heaven and earth. I have pleaded with you time and again, and yet you show no hint of goodness. Why would I want you around?! Leave now! Or I’ll recite the spell again!”
Wukong was afraid of more headaches, so he left without a fuss. One somersault cloud later, he was gone without a trace.
But unlike the previous times that San Zang sent him packing, Sun Wukong did not go far right away. Instead, he hovered in the sky in a foul mood. He thought about going back to Flower and Fruit Mountain, but then worried that his own minions would laugh at him for coming back yet again. He thought about going up to the Jade Emperor’s palace in heaven, but worried that he would wear out his welcome there, as if all his stunts 500 years ago hadn’t done that already. He thought about going to the magic island on the sea, but was embarrassed to meet the immortals living there in such disgrace. He thought about dropping in on the dragon king of the sea, but couldn’t bring himself to ask for help.
After running through and dismissing all the options in his head, he thought to himself, “Alas, let me go back to see master. That’s the proper path.”
So he descended back to the ground, stood in front of San Zang’s horse, and said, “Master, forgive me this time! I will never dare to kill again. I will listen to your teaching. But no matter what, you must let me escort you to the West.”
But San Zan didn’t bother answering. Instead, he reined in his horse and started reciting the band-tightening spell again, and did it 20-some times. Sun Wukong collapsed to the ground as the hoop around his head dug deep into his scalp. Only now did San Zang stop and ask him, “Why are you here pestering me? Why haven’t you left yet?”
“Stop, stop!” Wukong pleaded. “I have places that I can go, but I fear that you will not make it to the West without me.”
“Reckless ape! You have taken lives and brought much trouble for me. I can’t keep you. Whether or not I make it to the West is no concern of yours. Scram! Scram! Or I’ll recite the spell and wouldn’t stop until your brains spill out!”
Seeing that there was no convincing San Zang, and still feeling the unbearable pain in his head, Wukong had no choice but to soar into the sky again. But this time, a thought came to him, “Let me go talk to the Bodhisattva Guanyin.”
So he took off toward the South, and within a couple hours, he landed on Mount Potalaka on the South Sea. He stomped into the purple bamboo forest and saw Guanyin’s disciple Muzha, who led him to the entrance of Guanyin’s cave. There, he was greeted by the page Sudhana, aka Red Boy. Red Boy asked what he was doing there, and Wukong told him, “I have a complaint for the Bodhisattva.”
But Red Boy laughed, “You slick-tongued monkey! You bullied me when I took the Tang monk hostage. But our Bodhisattva is compassionate and merciful, and rescues all in need. What has she done wrong that you would have a complaint about her?”
Wukong was in no mood for jokes. He hissed, “You ungrateful little wretch! You were a demon once upon a time. I asked the Bodhisattva to take you in and set you straight. And now you’re enjoying a happy eternal life, living carefree and being immortal. Instead of thanking me, you dare to slight me?! I have a matter that requires the Bodhisattva’s help. Why are you saying I want to file a complaint against her?”
Red Boy put on a smile and said, “What an impatient monkey. I was just kidding with you; don’t get so mad.”
Just then, another of Guanyin’s attendants, the White Parrot, circled overhead. This was a sign that Guanyin had summoned her visitor. Muzha and Red Boy escorted Wukong to Guanyin’s lotus flower dais. Wukong kowtowed, and then burst out crying.
Guanyin had Muzha help Wukong to his feet and told him, “Tell me what’s making you sad. Don’t cry. I will relieve you of your troubles.”
Wukong bowed again and said while weeping, “Back in the day, I didn’t have to put up with crap from anyone. After you saved me, you guided me into the Buddhist school and tasked me with protecting the Tang monk on his scripture pilgrimage. I have risked life and limb to save him from evil. It’s been like wrestling a bone from a tiger’s jaws or peeling a scale from a dragon’s back. My only hope has been to attain the true fruit of Enlightenment, cleanse the karma of my past deeds, and purge evil and delusion. But that monk repays me with ingratitude. He’s blinded by compassion and doesn’t know right from wrong!”
He then recounted the whole episode with the bandits and how San Zang dismissed him yet again. After hearing his story, Guanyin said, “San Zang is heading west on an imperial edict. He is dedicated to doing good deeds and acting as a monk. He would never harm a life lightly. You may have boundless powers, but why did you have to kill so many bandits? They may be wicked, but they’re still human and should not be killed. They are not the same as wild beasts or demons. If you killed those, that’s to your credit. But if you kill human beings, that is a stain on you. If you just chased them away, that would save your master. In my impartial judgment, you are in the wrong here.”
Holding back his tears, Wukong kowtowed and said, “Even if I was in the wrong, my prior contributions should make up for it. He should not have chased me away like this. Bodhisattva, please exercise your compassion, read the band-loosening spell to take back this golden hoop from my head, and allow me to go back to my Water Curtain Cave and pass my days.”
Guanyin laughed, “The band-tightening spell was passed to me by the Buddha. It was one of the things he gave me when he sent me to the East to find a scripture pilgrim. But he didn’t give me a band-loosening spell.”
“In that case, I’m going to see the Buddha and ask him for the band-loosening spell,” Wukong said.
“Hold on. Let me check the omens.”
“No need to check for me.”
“No, I’m not checking your omens. I’m checking the Tang monk’s.”
So Guanyin sat down on her dais and cast her eyes into the universe. Momentarily, she said, “Wukong, your master is nearing a calamity. He will soon come looking for you. Just stay here, and I’ll talk to him about letting you rejoin the pilgrimage.”
Wukong dared not disobey her, so he just hung out next to her dais.
Meanwhile, on the road West, after San Zang chased off Sun Wukong again, he told his two remaining disciples to pick up the luggage and lead the horse as they continued their journey. After about 15 miles, San Zang said, “Pupils, we left the farm at 5 a.m., and then that stable monkey made me really angry. I’m hungry and thirsty. Which of you will go beg for some food?”
“Master, please dismount. Let me see if there are villages nearby to find food,” Bajie said.
While San Zang got off his horse, Bajie took to the air and looked around. But it was barren mountains all around, with no trace of any households. When he reported this, San Zang said, “Since there’s no place to find food, can you get some water to quench my thirst?”
So Bajie got the alms bowl and flew off toward the south to get some water from a mountain stream. San Zang waited, and waited, and waited. A long time passed, and Zhu Bajie still had not returned, and San Zang’s throat was now parched.
Seeing this, Sha Zeng said, “Master, stay here. Let me go get water for you.”
Guys, have we learned nothing about leaving the monk by his lonesome on a desolate mountain? Apparently not. San Zang nodded silently with tears in his eyes. So Sha Zeng hurriedly took to the clouds and flew toward the south, leaving San Zang by himself on the side of the road.
Exhausted, hungry, and thirsty, San Zang sat alone in misery. Suddenly, he heard a loud crash, startled to his feet, and looked in the direction of the noise. He was surprised to see none other than Sun Wukong, kneeling by the roadside, holding a porcelain cup with both hands.
“Master, without me, you don’t even have enough water,” Wukong said. “Here is a cup of nice cold water. Please quench your thirst, and then I’ll go find food.”
“I don’t want your water!” San Zang scoffed. “I would rather die of thirst on this spot than accept anything from you! Go away!”
“Without me, you can’t make it to the West!” Wukong said.
“That’s none of your business! Reckless ape! Stop pestering me!”
In that moment, Sun Wukong’s expression darkened, and he cursed San Zang angrily, “You stone-hearted baldy! Don’t talk down to me!”
As he cursed, Wukong hurled aside the cup, pulled out his rod, and smacked San Zang on his back. As San Zang lay unconscious on the ground, Wukong grabbed the luggage and flew off.
Meanwhile, on the south side of the mountain, Zhu Bajie was looking around for water when he noticed a thatched hut, which had previously been blocked from view by the peaks.
“They would definitely be afraid of my ugly face and would not give me any food,” Bajie thought to himself. “I need to turn into something better.”
So he spun around seven or eight times and turned into a sickly, bloated monk. Moaning, he approached the door and called out, “Benefactor, if you have leftover food in your kitchen, there’s a starving man on the road. I am from the East, heading West to fetch scriptures. My master is starving and thirsty. If you have any cold rice or pot-bottom scrapings, please give me some to save him.”
Turns out all the men in that house had gone out for planting, and only two women remained. They had just cooked rice for lunch and had filled two platters that they were going to take to the fields for the men. They still had some rice and burnt bits left in the wok. They saw how pitiful this beggar looked. They weren’t sure about his story, but they were also afraid he would stumble in his weakened state and die on their doorstep. So they scraped together a bowl of leftover rice and gave it to him. He then turned back into his old self and headed back to the group.
Along the way, he heard someone call his name. He looked up and saw it was Sha Zeng, standing on a cliff. Once the two regrouped, Sha Zeng asked, “Why didn’t you get the clear water from this stream? Where were you?”
“When I got here, I saw a house, so I went and begged this bowl of rice.”
“Rice is good, but master is very thirsty. How will we bring back water now?” Sha Zeng asked.
“That’s easy. You hold the rice in your shirt lapel, and I’ll use the bowl to carry water.”
So the two of them happily returned with both food and water. But they were stunned to find San Zang face down in the dirt, while the horse was running free on the roadside and the luggage had vanished.
Bajie stamped his feet and beat his chest, crying out, “There’s no doubt about it! The remnants of those bandits must have come back, killed master, and made off with the luggage!”
“What to do?! What to do?!” Sha Zeng cried. “Our journey has come to an abrupt end! Oh master!”
“Brother, don’t cry,” Bajie consoled him. “With things as they are, let’s not talk about fetching scriptures just yet. You stay and guard master’s body. I’ll ride the horse to the next town or village and sell it for a few taels of silver so we can buy a coffin and bury him. Then you and I can go our separate ways.”
Hmm, let’s ask your sentient dragon horse what he thinks about being sold for coffin money. In any case, Sha Zeng, gripped with sadness, flipped San Zang over and pressed his own face to his master’s and cried out, “Oh my hardlucked master!”
But just then, he detected a faint, warm breath from San Zang’s mouth, and felt a warmth in his chest.
“Bajie, get over here!” Sha Zeng shouted. “Master is not dead!”
Bajie came over and helped to prop San Zang up. Slowly, San Zang came back around. After he gathered himself, he cursed, “That crazy monkey! He almost killed me!”
“Which crazy monkey?” his disciples asked.
Umm … which do you think, guys? San Zang had to drink a few sips of water before he could continue. He told them, “As soon as you guys left, that Sun Wukong came to pester me again. I refused to take him back, so he hit me with his rod and took the luggage.”
“How dare that damn monkey be so rude?!” Bajie fumed. “Sha Zeng, you take care of master. I’m going to that monkey’s home to get the luggage back!”
“Wait, calm down,” Sha Zeng said. “Let’s help master to that mountain hut and ask for some hot tea and water. We’ll warm up the rice that we had begged and tend to him. Then you can go find that monkey.”
So they helped San Zang onto his horse and made their way back to the thatched hut. The old woman of the family was the only one at home. When she saw them, she hurriedly tried to hide. But Sha Zeng pressed his palms together and said, “Old madam, we’ve been sent by the Tang kingdom in the East to go West. My master is not feeling well, so we have come to ask you for a sip of hot tea or water to help him eat some rice.”
The old woman said, “Just then there was a sickly monk here, saying he was from the East. He had already gotten a handout and left. And now there’s another group of you from the East? There’s no one else at home. Please go elsewhere.”
San Zang, with Bajie’s help, dismounted, bowed, and said, “Madam, I had three disciples who were protecting me on my journey to the Great Thunderclap Temple for scriptures. My senior disciple, named Sun Wukong, was prone to murder and refused to act compassionately, so I dismissed him. But then he returned, hit me on the back with his rod, and made off with my luggage. One of my other disciple is going to find him and get our stuff back. But the side of the road is not a good waiting place. So we came to your home to seek a little respite. As soon as we get our luggage back, we’ll leave. We dare not impose on your for long.”
“But a sickly, bloated monk came by just now to beg for food and said he was going West from the East,” the old woman said. “How come there’s another group of you?”
Bajie laughed and fessed up, “That was me. But because I have a long snout and big ears, I was afraid you would be scared and wouldn’t give me any food. So I changed shape. If you don’t believe me, look in my brother’s shirt lapel. Isn’t that the burnt rice bits that you gave me?”
Recognizing, somehow, the scrapings from her wok, the old woman agreed to let them stay. Once they sat down, she heated up a cup of tea for Sha Zeng to soak the rice in. After eating a few mouthfuls of lukewarm, wet rice, San Zang asked which disciple would go hunt down their luggage.
Bajie said, “That year, when you dismissed that monkey, I went to look for him, so I know the way to his mountain and cave. I’ll go.”
“You can’t go,” San Zang said. “That monkey has never gotten along well with you, and you are clumsy with words. If you misspeak, he would beat you. Let Sha Zeng go.”
Sha Zeng agreed, and San Zang told him, “When you get there, see how things go. If he’s willing to give you the luggage, then just pretend to thank him and bring it back. If he’s unwilling, don’t quarrel with him. Just go to the South Sea to find the Bodhisattva, tell her what happened, and ask her to go demand the luggage.”
Sha Zeng took San Zang’s advice to heart and then told Bajie, “I’m going to find that monkey. You must not leave. Stay here and take good care of master. And don’t act up in front of this family either, or they might not feed you. I’ll be back soon.”
“I’ve got it,” Bajie said as he nodded. “But no matter if you succeed or not, you have to come back. Don’t just slip away.”
Sha Zeng now took to the air and flew toward the East. Now, his means of aeronautical travel was much slower than Sun Wukong’s, so it took him three whole nights to reach the East Sea. He rushed to Flower and Fruit Mountain, and made his way to the Water Curtain Cave.
There, he heard a lot of ruckus from countless monkeys. He snuck closer and saw Sun Wukong sitting high and mighty atop a stone platform. He held in his hands a piece of paper and was reading its contents aloud. Sha Zeng recognized it as the pilgrim’s passport. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he went forward and shouted, “Brother, why are you reading master’s travel document?!”
Wukong looked up, didn’t seem to recognize that it was Sha Zeng, and ordered his monkey minions to bring forth this intruder. The little monkeys swarmed around Sha Zeng and pushed him to the front.
“Who are you?! How dare you encroach on my cave?!” Wukong barked.
Seeing that Wukong act like he was a stranger, Sha Zeng bowed and said, “Brother, master really was too rash and wrong to blame you, curse you with the band-tightening spell, and dismiss you. I hadn’t had a chance to try to make peace between you, and I was too busy trying to find water and food for master. But I never expected that you would come back, get angry at master for refusing to take you back, hit him, leave him unconscious, and then make off with the luggage. After bringing master around, I came here to see you. If you don’t despise master and still remember his kindness in releasing you from your imprisonment, then give me back the luggage and come back with me to see master. We’ll go to the West together and complete our mission. If you really hate him and refuse to go back, then please at least give me back the luggage, and you can stay here and make merry, and that would be good for everyone as well.”
Wukong, however, chuckled coldly, “Good brother, I can’t agree to that. I didn’t hit the Tang monk and steal his luggage because I wasn’t going West, or because I want to stay here. I have memorized his travel documents, and now I’m going to go see the Buddha myself to ask for scriptures. And then I’ll deliver them to the East, and the credit will be mine alone. Then the people of the East will worship me and sing my praises for all eternity.”
“Brother, what kind of idea is that?” Sha Zeng chuckled. “You can’t go get scripture alone. The Buddha sent the Bodhisattva Guanyin to the East to find a scripture pilgrim, and we are tasked with doing our utmost to protect that pilgrim. Guanyin once said that the pilgrim was the Buddha’s disciple Golden Cicada. Because he disobeyed the Buddha, he was cast off into the mortal realm so that he can earn his way back to the West. Because there are evils along the way, he would save the three of us so we can protect him. If you show up without master, how would the Buddha be willing to give you scripture! That would be a waste of effort!”
“God brother, you don’t see the whole picture,” Wukong said. “You have a Tang monk to protect, but do you think I don’t? I have another sage monk here that I can protect by myself. I’m leaving tomorrow. You don’t believe me? Have a look. Little ones, bring master out here!”
At that command, a few monkey minions ran into the cave and came back out with a white horse, and three figures. They were none other than San Zang, Bajie, and Sha Zeng.
Umm … that was unexpected. To see what shenanigans Sun Wukong is up to, 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
- “Ravines” by Elphnt (from YouTube audio library)
- “The Quiet Aftermath by Sir Cubworth (from YouTube audio library)