A poem sets the scene:
Bound for the West, the path stretched long and far; autumn winds blew keen, scattering frost like blossoms. The cunning ape must be kept tightly leashed, the unruly horse reined in, the whip spared. The Wood Mother and the Metal Lord are naturally aligned; the Yellow Dame and the Crimson Child have no discord. Bite through the iron pellet to find true wisdom; cross the perfection of wisdom to reach the other shore .
This tale speaks of how the journey to fetch scriptures demands that cultivators cling to their true hearts. Having grasped the truth and shed their worldly ties, the master Tang Sanzang and his three disciples crossed the Flowing Sands River without lingering and pressed westward along the main road. They passed endless green mountains and clear waters, taking in wild grasses and scattered flowers. Time flew swiftly, and before they knew it, deep autumn had arrived. The scene before them was:
Maple leaves blazed red across the hills; golden chrysanthemums braved the evening wind. Aged cicadas sang with growing weariness; melancholy crickets chirped in endless thought. Lotus leaves lay broken like green silk fans; oranges gave off a fragrance like golden pellets. A pity to see those lines of geese, dotting the distant sky in flight.
As they traveled, dusk began to fall. Tang Sanzang said, “Disciples, it grows late again. Where shall we lodge tonight?”
Wukong replied, “Master, you speak wrongly! We who have left the world sleep beneath the open sky and rest on frost beneath the moon. Everywhere is home—why ask where to stay? There’s no need.”
Zhu Bajie said, “Elder Brother, you only know how easy it is for you to walk! You don’t care how tired others get! Since we crossed the Flowing Sands River, we’ve been climbing mountains and crossing ridges all the way. I’ve been carrying this heavy load, and I can barely take it anymore! We need to find a house—first, to beg some tea and food, and second, to rest our feet. That’s only reasonable.”
Wukong said, “Fool! Your words sound full of resentment! Do you think you’re still back in Gao Laozhuang , living comfortably without lifting a finger? No such luck! Since you’ve become a monk , you must endure hardship—that’s what makes a worthy disciple.”
Bajie said, “Elder Brother, look how heavy this load is!”
Wukong said, “Little Brother, ever since you and Sha Monk joined us, I haven’t carried the load. How would I know its weight?”
Bajie counted on his fingers: “Just look: four baskets woven from yellow rattan, tied with eight ropes of varying lengths, wrapped in three or four layers of felt to keep out the rain, the carrying pole nailed at both ends to prevent slipping, plus the nine-ringed staff inlaid with bronze and iron, and the large bamboo-and-rattan rain cape—all this luggage, I carry every single day! Why should I be the one toiling while you and the Master act like disciples, and I’m treated like a hired hand!”
Wukong laughed, “Fool, who are you complaining to?”
Bajie said, “I’m telling you!”
Wukong said, “You’re wrong to tell me! Old Monkey is only responsible for the Master’s safety. You and Sha Monk are in charge of the luggage and the horse. If you dare to slack off, I’ll give you a beating with my staff first!”
Bajie said, “Elder Brother, don’t always threaten to hit me! That’s bullying the weak! I know you’re too proud to carry the load, but the Master’s horse is so tall and fat—it only carries him alone. Let it take a few pieces of luggage too—that’s only fair among brothers!”
Wukong said, “Do you think it’s an ordinary horse? It’s the son of Ao Run , the Dragon King of the Western Sea, called the Third Prince of the Jade Dragon ! Years ago, it set fire to a luminous pearl in the palace. Its father accused it of unfilial conduct, and it violated heavenly law. Luckily, Bodhisattva Guanyin saved it. It waited for the Master at the Eagle’s Sorrow Steep Ravine. Later, the Bodhisattva came in person, made it shed its scales, remove its horns, and take the pearl from under its neck, transforming it into this horse. It willingly carries the Master to the West to worship the Buddha. This is its cultivation task—don’t drag it into your complaints.”
Sha Wujing asked, “Elder Brother, is it truly a dragon?”
Wukong said, “Of course.”
Bajie said, “Elder Brother, I’ve heard the ancients say that ‘dragons can breathe clouds and mist, and churn rivers and seas.’ Why does it walk so slowly today?”
Wukong said, “You want it to go faster? I’ll show you how it runs!”
The Great Sage clenched his golden-banded staff, and instantly, ten thousand colorful clouds arose. When the horse saw the staff, it feared a beating and bolted, its four hooves flashing like lightning as it shot forward. Tang Sanzang couldn’t hold the reins and let the horse run until it reached a hillside, where it finally slowed. Catching his breath, the Master looked up and saw several grand houses in a grove of pine trees. The scene was impressive: green cypresses grew by the gate, and the estate leaned against a green mountain. Several pine trees swayed in the wind; several bamboo clumps bore speckled patterns. Wild chrysanthemums by the fence were covered in frost; secluded orchids by the bridge reflected the water. A whitewashed wall and brick courtyard, with tall halls both magnificent and serene. No cattle, sheep, chickens, or dogs were seen—the autumn harvest had likely left the farm idle.
As the Master was reining in his horse to look, Wukong, Bajie, and Sha Monk caught up. Sha Monk asked, “Master, you didn’t fall off the horse, did you?”
The elder scolded, “Wukong, you reckless ape! You startled the horse! Luckily, I ride steadily!”
Wukong grinned apologetically, “Master, don’t scold me. It was Bajie who said the horse was too slow, so I made it run.”
Bajie, exhausted from chasing the horse, gasped, “It’s over! It’s over! My waist is already weak, and the load is heavy—I can barely carry it, and now you make me run after the horse!”
The elder said, “Disciples, look at that estate. Let’s ask for lodging.”
Wukong looked up and saw auspicious clouds and radiant mists in the sky. He knew it must be a manifestation of Buddhas or immortals, but he kept the secret, saying only, “Good! Good! Good! Let’s go ask for lodging!”
Tang Sanzang quickly dismounted. The estate’s gate tower had a carved lotus-and-elephant-trunk design, with painted beams and carved rafters. Sha Monk put down the load, and Bajie led the horse, saying, “This family must be very wealthy.” Wukong was about to barge in, but Tang Sanzang said, “No! We are monks; we must avoid suspicion. Don’t enter without permission. Wait until someone comes out, then ask politely for lodging.”
Bajie tied up the horse and leaned against the wall; Tang Sanzang sat on a stone drum; Wukong and Sha Monk sat on the steps. They waited a long time, but no one came out. Impatient, Wukong jumped up and slipped inside to peek: there was a three-bay south-facing hall with a curtain hanging high. A screen bore a painting of “ Longevity Mountain and Sea of Blessings .” On both sides, golden-lacquered pillars were pasted with red spring couplets that read:
Silk threads drift by weak willows at the evening bridge; snow dots fragrant plum blossoms in the small spring courtyard.
In the center stood a glossy incense table with an ancient bronze beast-shaped censer. Six armchairs were arranged, and seasonal paintings hung on the walls.
As Wukong was peeking, he heard footsteps from the back door. A middle-aged woman emerged and asked in a delicate voice, “Who dares enter my widow’s home without permission?”
Wukong hastily bowed, “Little monk is from the Great Tang in the East, sent by imperial decree to worship the Buddha and seek scriptures in the West. Our group of four passed by here, and since it’s late, we wish to stay the night.”
The woman smiled and invited him, “Venerable Master, where are the other three? Please, come in.”
Wukong called out loudly, “Master, come in!”
Tang Sanzang, Bajie, and Sha Monk led the horse and carried the load inside. The woman came out to greet them. Bajie squinted and stole a glance at her: she wore a silk jacket woven with gold thread and a light red sleeveless vest, tied with a colorful goose-yellow embroidered skirt, and high-heeled embroidered shoes. Her hair was styled in a fashionable topknot, adorned with a two-colored coiled-dragon hairpin. She wore an official-style ivory comb and two slanting gold hairpins. Her graying temples were like flying phoenix wings, and precious pearls dangled from her earrings. Even without powder or rouge, she was beautiful, with the charm of her younger years still lingering.
Seeing the three others, the woman was even more pleased. She courteously invited them into the hall to sit and ordered maids to bring fragrant tea and fruit. The maids, with their hair in buns, carried golden plates and white jade cups, their tea aroma rising and fruit fragrance drifting. Dressed in colorful sleeves, their hands slender as spring bamboo shoots, they served tea to each person. After tea, the woman ordered the preparation of a vegetarian meal.
Tang Sanzang clasped his hands and asked, “Old Bodhisattva, what is your honorable surname? What place is this?”
The woman said, “This is the Western Continent of Cattle-Gift. My maiden surname is Jia, and my married surname is Mo. When I was young, my husband’s parents died early. My husband and I inherited the family estate, which included ten thousand strings of cash and a thousand acres of fertile land. Unfortunately, we had no sons, only three daughters. Two years ago, my husband passed away, and I’ve been a widow ever since, having just completed the mourning period. We have fields and property but no relatives—only us four women. I thought of remarrying but couldn’t bear to leave the estate. Now that you four masters and disciples have arrived, we mother and daughters would like to take you as sons-in-law. Four of you to match four of us—what do you think? Are you willing?”
Tang Sanzang pretended not to hear, closing his eyes and sitting motionless. The woman continued, “Our family has over three hundred acres of paddy fields, over three hundred acres of dry fields, over three hundred acres of mountain orchards, over a thousand head of yellow cattle, herds of mules and horses, countless pigs and sheep, and sixty or seventy estates and pastures in all directions. We have more grain than we can eat, more silk than we can wear, and more gold and silver than we can use. Living here is much more comfortable than suffering on the journey to the West!” Tang Sanzang remained like a fool, silent and unmoving.
The woman added, “I was born in the Dinghai year, on the third day of the third month, at the hour of the Rooster. I am now forty-five years old. My eldest daughter is called Zhenzhen, twenty years old; my second daughter is Ai’ai, eighteen; and my third daughter is Lianlian, sixteen. None are betrothed. Though I am old, my daughters are beautiful and skilled in needlework. I taught them the Confucian classics when they were young, and they can compose poems and match couplets. Though we live in the countryside, we are not vulgar—we are worthy matches for you venerable masters. If you would grow your hair and return to lay life, becoming masters of this household, wearing silk and satin, that would be far better than carrying a clay alms bowl, wearing a monk’s robe, and a bamboo hat!”
Tang Sanzang sat above, like a child struck by thunder or a toad caught in the rain, staring blankly with white-rimmed eyes. But Bajie’s heart itched with desire. He sat on his chair as if pricked by needles, twisting and turning uncontrollably. He stepped forward and tugged at Tang Sanzang: “Master! This lady is speaking to you—why don’t you answer? At least give a response!”
Tang Sanzang jerked his head up and shouted angrily at Bajie, “You beast! We are monks—how can we be tempted by wealth and beauty? What kind of conduct is this!”
The woman laughed, “Pity! What good is there in being a monk?”
Tang Sanzang said, “Lady Bodhisattva, what good is there in being a householder?”
The woman said, “Venerable Master, sit down, and let me tell you the advantages of being a householder. There is a poem to prove it: In spring, cut new silk and wear light gauze; in summer, change to thin robes and admire green lotus. In autumn, there is new fragrant glutinous wine; in winter, in warm chambers, drink until cheeks flush. Every season brings its pleasures; every festival offers rare delicacies. On the wedding night, with brocade and silk, it’s far better than traveling to worship the Buddha.”
Tang Sanzang said, “Lady Bodhisattva, you householders enjoy glory and wealth, have clothes and food, and are surrounded by children—truly good. But we monks also have our benefits. There is a poem to prove it: Leaving home with resolve is no ordinary act; it overturns the hall of former love. External things no longer stir idle talk; within the body, there is true harmony. When cultivation is complete, we pay homage at the golden court; seeing our nature, we return to our true home. This is better than indulging in blood and flesh at home, only to fall into a decaying bag of skin in old age.”
The woman grew furious: “You insolent monk! If I didn’t know you came from afar in the East, I’d drive you out! I sincerely wanted to take you as sons-in-law, and you insult me with your words! Even if you’ve taken vows and won’t return to lay life, your followers can! Why are you so stubborn!”
Tang Sanzang, seeing her anger, said politely, “Wukong, you stay.”
Wukong said, “I’ve never been able to do such things since I was young. Let Bajie stay.”
Bajie said, “Elder Brother, don’t set me up! Let’s discuss this properly.”
Tang Sanzang said, “Since neither of you is willing, let Wujing stay.”
Sha Monk said, “Master, that’s not right. I was converted by the Bodhisattva and took the precepts. I waited for you a long time. I’ve only been following you for less than two months and haven’t accomplished a single merit. How dare I covet wealth and status! Even if I die, I want to go to the West. I will never do such a shameful thing.”
Seeing them all refuse, the woman turned and went behind the screen, slamming the waist door shut with a bang. The four masters and disciples were left outside without tea or food, and no one came out again. Bajie grew anxious and complained to Tang Sanzang, “Master, you really don’t know how to handle things! You spoke too bluntly! You should have given a vague answer, tricked them into giving us a meal, rested well tonight, and decided tomorrow whether to agree or not. Now they’ve shut the door and ignored us. We have no fire or stove—how will we get through the night!”
Sha Monk said, “Second Elder Brother, you should stay here as the son-in-law.”
Bajie said, “Little Brother, don’t set me up! Let’s discuss this properly.”
Wukong said, “What’s there to discuss? If you’re willing, let the Master be the groom’s parent, and you become the live-in son-in-law. Their family is rich—they’ll surely give you a dowry and throw a feast, and we’ll get to enjoy it too. You return to lay life here—isn’t that perfect?”
Bajie said, “That sounds fine, but I’ve just left the world and now I’m going back. I’d have to set aside my former wife and take a new one. That’s not proper, is it?”
Sha Monk asked, “Second Elder Brother, did you have a wife before?”
Wukong said, “Don’t you know? He was originally the son-in-law of Lord Gao in Gao Laozhuang. After I subdued him, he took the Bodhisattva’s precepts and had no choice but to follow the Master to the West, abandoning his former wife. He’s been away from her for so long, and now he’s thinking about it again. When he heard about taking a son-in-law, his heart was stirred. Fool, just stay here as the son-in-law. Bow to me a few times, and I won’t expose you.”
Bajie said, “Nonsense! Nonsense! Everyone has the same thoughts, but you make me the scapegoat! As the saying goes, ‘Monks are lustful ghosts in the flesh.’ Who doesn’t want it? You all put on airs and ruined a good thing. Now we can’t even get tea or water, and no one tends the lamps. Even if we endure the night, that horse still has to carry someone tomorrow. If it goes hungry another night, we’ll have to skin it! You sit here—I’m going to graze the horse.”
The fool hurriedly untied the reins and led the horse outside. Wukong said, “Sha Monk, stay here with the Master. I’ll follow him and see where he takes the horse to graze.”
Tang Sanzang said, “Wukong, you can go and look, but don’t mock him.”
Wukong said, “I understand.”
The Great Sage left the hall, transformed himself with a shake, and became a red dragonfly. He flew out the front gate and caught up with Bajie.
The fool led the horse but deliberately wouldn’t let it eat where there was grass. Instead, he drove it with clicks and clucks around to the back gate. There, he saw the woman with her three daughters, standing idly behind the gate admiring chrysanthemums. When the mother and daughters saw Bajie coming, the three girls quickly hid inside. The woman stood at the gate and asked, “Little Venerable Master, where are you going?”
The fool dropped the horse’s reins, stepped forward, bowed, and called her “Mother” repeatedly: “I’m taking the horse to graze.”
The woman said, “Your Master is too stubborn. Wouldn’t it be better to be my son-in-law than to be a wandering monk heading West?”
Bajie grinned and said, “They have the Tang Emperor’s decree and dare not disobey, so they won’t do this. Just now, they pushed me out at the front hall. I’m a bit afraid of offending them, but I’m more worried that you, Mother, might find me ugly with my long snout and big ears.”
The woman said, “I don’t mind you, but the family has no master. Taking a son-in-law would be suitable—but I’m afraid my daughters might find you ugly.”
Bajie quickly said, “Mother, tell your daughters not to be so picky. My Master may be handsome, but he’s useless. I may be ugly, but I have some skills. Let me recite a rhyme: Though my face is coarse, I’m diligent and strong. If you have a thousand acres of land, no ox is needed to plow. With just one swing of my rake, I plant and harvest on time. If there’s no rain, I can pray for it; if there’s no wind, I can summon it. If the house is too low, I’ll build it up two or three stories. If the floor is unswept, I’ll sweep it; if the drain is clogged, I’ll clear it. All household affairs, from heaven to earth, I can handle them all.”
The woman said, “Since you can manage the household, go and discuss it with your Master again. If there’s no problem, I’ll take you.”
Bajie said, “No need to discuss! He’s not my father or mother—I decide whether to do it or not.”
The woman said, “Very well, I’ll go talk to my daughters.” With that, she slipped inside and slammed the back gate shut.
Bajie stopped grazing the horse and led it back to the front. Little did he know that Sun Wukong had heard everything clearly. The Great Sage flew back, resumed his original form, and went to see Tang Sanzang first: “Master, Wuneng is leading the horse back.”
The elder said, “If the horse weren’t brought back, it might run away.”
Wukong laughed and recounted the entire conversation between the woman and Bajie. Tang Sanzang was half-believing, half-doubting.
Soon enough, they saw the fool return, tie up the horse, and come in. The elder asked, “Have you grazed the horse?”
Bajie said, “There was no good grass, nowhere to graze.”
Wukong teased, “No place to graze the horse, but was there no place to lead it?”
The fool knew his secret was out. He hung his head, twisted his neck, furrowed his brow, and couldn’t speak for a long time.
Then they heard a creak as the waist door opened. Two red lanterns led the way, someone carried a wine pot, fragrant clouds swirled, and jade pendants tinkled. The woman came out with her three daughters, calling them Zhenzhen, Ai’ai, and Lianlian to pay respects to the scripture seekers. The three girls stood in a row in the hall and bowed upward. They were truly beautiful:
Each had moth-like eyebrows traced in green, and faces radiant with spring light. Their charms surpassed the beauty Xishi; their grace stirred the soul. Flower ornaments reflected their delicate allure; embroidered sashes drifted like celestial ribbons. When they smiled, their lips parted like cherry blossoms; when they walked slowly, orchid fragrance wafted. Their heads were adorned with trembling pearls and emeralds; their bodies exuded a delicate, enchanting scent. Forget the beauties of Chu or the charms of Xishi—they were like celestial maidens descending from the Ninth Heaven, or the Moon Goddess emerging from the Palace of Vast Cold!
Tang Sanzang clasped his hands and bowed his head. Sun Wukong pretended not to see. Sha Monk turned away. Only Zhu Bajie stared with wide eyes, his lust stirring and his desire swelling. He leaned in and whispered, “Thank you, fairies, for descending. Mother, please invite the sisters inside.”
The three girls turned and disappeared behind the screen, leaving a pair of gauze lanterns. The woman asked, “Four venerable masters, is any one of you willing to stay and marry my daughter?”
Sha Monk deliberately said, “We’ve discussed it. We’ll let the one named Zhu stay as the son-in-law.”
Bajie quickly protested, “Little Brother, don’t set me up! Let’s all discuss it together.”
Wukong said, “What’s there to discuss? You already settled it behind the back gate, calling her ‘Mother’ several times! What’s left to discuss? The Master will be the groom’s parent, this old lady will be the bride’s parent, I’ll be the guarantor, and Sha Monk will be the matchmaker. No need to consult the almanac—today is a lucky day. Hurry and bow to the Master, then go inside and become the son-in-law!”
Bajie panicked, “No! No! How can I do such a thing!”
Wukong said, “Fool, stop pretending! You called her ‘Mother’ so many times—how can you say no? Agree quickly! Let us have a wedding feast—that would be your kindness!” Saying this, he grabbed Bajie with one hand and pulled the woman with the other: “Mother-in-law, take your son-in-law inside!”
The fool stumbled and tried to follow. The woman immediately called the servants, “Clear the tables and prepare the evening meal to entertain the three in-laws. I’ll take the bridegroom to his room.” She also ordered the cooks to prepare a banquet for the formal meeting tomorrow. The servants all obeyed. Wukong, Tang Sanzang, and Sha Monk ate their meal and rested in the guest hall—we’ll leave them for now.
Now let’s talk about Bajie following his mother-in-law inside. They passed through layer after layer of buildings, stumbling over countless thresholds. The fool said, “Mother, walk slowly. I don’t know the way—give me your hand.”
The woman said, “These are the granaries, storehouses, and mill. We haven’t reached the kitchen yet.”
Bajie marveled, “What a big house!”
They turned several more corners and walked for a while before reaching the inner hall. The woman said, “Son-in-law, your elder brother said today is a lucky day, so I’ve brought you in. But it’s too rushed—we didn’t invite a geomancer, and we won’t perform the formal wedding ceremony. Just bow eight times facing upward, and that will do.”
Bajie said, “Mother, you’re right! Sit down, and I’ll bow a few times. This will serve as both the wedding ceremony and the thanks to the parents—two birds with one stone, very efficient!”
The woman laughed, “You truly are a resourceful son-in-law.”
The hall was bright with silver candles. The fool bowed upward and then asked eagerly, “Mother, which sister will you give to me?”
The woman said, “I’m worried about that! If I give you the eldest, I’m afraid the second will object. If I give you the second, the third will be unhappy. If I give you the third, the eldest will blame me. So I can’t decide.”
Bajie, greedy and unsatisfied, said, “Mother, since you’re afraid they’ll quarrel, why not give me all three! That way, there won’t be any arguing to disrupt the family order.”
The woman said, “What kind of reasoning is that! You want to take all three of my daughters?”
Bajie said, “Mother, don’t be offended. What man doesn’t have three wives and four concubines? I could handle even more! When I was young, I learned the art of endurance in battle—I guarantee I’ll keep them all satisfied.”
The woman said, “No! I have a handkerchief here. Put it over your head to cover your face. We’ll do a ‘Heavenly Marriage Lottery’—let my daughters walk past you, and whichever one you grab, you’ll marry.”
The fool quickly took the handkerchief and put it on his head, saying, “Mother, call the sisters out quickly!”
The woman called out, “Zhenzhen, Ai’ai, Lianlian, come and do the Heavenly Marriage Lottery to match with your son-in-law!”
Then they heard the tinkling of jade pendants and the fragrance of orchids, as if celestial maidens were moving about. The fool reached out to grab, but he caught nothing on the left and nothing on the right. Back and forth, countless girls passed by, but he couldn’t catch a single one. Soon, he bumped into a pillar, then groped at a wall. Dizzy from running, he couldn’t even stand, falling down with a bruised face and swollen nose. He sat on the ground, gasping, “Mother, your daughters are too slippery! I can’t catch a single one! What do I do now?”
The woman helped him remove the handkerchief and said, “Son-in-law, it’s not that my daughters are slippery—they’re being modest and refusing to take you.”
Bajie, brazen-faced, said, “Mother, since they won’t have me, you take me!”
The woman was both angry and amused: “Fine son-in-law! No sense of propriety—even trying to take your mother-in-law! My three daughters are skilled with their hands. Each wove a pearl-embroidered undershirt. If you can wear one of them, that one will take you.”
Bajie said, “Good! Good! Bring all three! Let me wear them all—if I can wear all three, I’ll take all three!”
The woman went into the room and came out with only one undershirt, handing it to Bajie. The fool took off his dark green brocade robe, took the undershirt, and began to put it on. But before he could fasten the ties, he fell to the ground with a thud—the undershirt contained several tight ropes that bound him firmly, causing him to cry out in pain. When he looked up, the woman and her daughters had vanished.
Meanwhile, Tang Sanzang, Wukong, and Sha Monk woke from their sleep to find it was already dawn. When they opened their eyes, there were no tall buildings, painted beams, or carved rafters—they were all sleeping in a pine grove. The elder panicked and called for Wukong. Sha Monk said, “Elder Brother, it’s over! We’ve met ghosts!”
Sun Wukong knew what was happening and laughed, “How could we have met ghosts?”
The elder said, “Look where we’re sleeping!”
Wukong said, “Sleeping in this pine grove is quite comfortable. I only wonder where that fool is suffering.”
The elder asked, “Who’s suffering?”
Wukong laughed, “Those women from yesterday—I don’t know which Bodhisattva manifested to test us. They must have left in the middle of the night. Only Zhu Bajie is suffering.”
Hearing this, Tang Sanzang quickly clasped his hands and bowed his head.
Then they saw a slip of paper fluttering on an ancient cypress tree behind them. Sha Monk quickly took it down and showed it to the Master. On it were eight lines of verse:
“The Old Mother of Mount Li cared not for worldly pleasures; the Bodhisattva of the Southern Sea invited her down from the mountain. Puxian and Wenshu were also guests; they transformed into beautiful maidens in the forest. The holy monk, virtuous and pure, remained untempted; Bajie, lacking meditation, was still full of worldly desires. From now on, quiet your heart and reform; if you grow lazy, the road ahead will be hard!”
As the elder, Wukong, and Sha Monk were reading the note, they suddenly heard someone shouting from deep in the forest: “Master! You’re strangling me! Save me! I won’t dare do it again!”
Tang Sanzang asked, “Wukong, is that Wuneng calling out?”
Sha Monk said, “It is.”
Wukong said, “Little Brother, ignore him. Let’s go.”
Tang Sanzang said, “That fool may be simple-minded, but he’s honest and strong enough to carry the luggage. For the sake of the Bodhisattva who converted him, let’s save him and take him along. I think he won’t dare to do this again.”
Sha Monk rolled up the bedding and packed the load. Sun Wukong untied the reins and led the horse, taking Tang Sanzang into the forest to find Bajie. Ah! This is truly:
The righteous path of cultivation demands caution; only by eliminating greed can one return to the true heart.
What became of the fool in the end? Listen to the next chapter for the answer.