Color itself is originally colorless; emptiness is not truly empty. Stillness and noise, speech and silence are fundamentally the same—why labor to explain dreams within a dream? In usefulness, there is uselessness; in meritless effort, true merit is achieved. Just as fruit naturally reddens when ripe, there is no need to ask how it is planted or cultivated.
Now, Tang Sanzang and his three disciples used their divine powers to stop the monks of Jigu Bujin Temple . Seeing that a dark wind had swept through and the master and disciples had vanished, the monks believed they had witnessed living Buddhas descending to earth. They kowtowed and returned to the temple—no more need be said of that.
The master and his disciples continued westward. It was now the season between late spring and early summer:
The weather was clear and mild, refreshing the spirit. In the ponds, water chestnuts and lotus leaves began to sprout. Plums ripened after the rains; wheat ripened in the gentle breeze. Where flowers had fallen, the grass was fragrant; orioles sang softly among the willow branches. River swallows taught their young to fly; mountain pheasants called to their chicks. The sun stood high in the southern sky, and all things shone with radiant light.
They traveled day and night, crossing mountains and streams, eating and sleeping as they went—no need to describe each detail. After half a month of peaceful journeying, they saw a city ahead.
"Disciples," Sanzang asked, "what place is this?"
"I don't know, I don't know," said the Pilgrim.
Zhu Bajie chuckled. "You've walked this road before—how could you not know? There must be some trick! You're pretending not to recognize it just to toy with us!"
"You fool, you understand nothing!" the Pilgrim retorted. "I've passed this way several times, but always riding clouds through the sky, never setting foot on the ground. When something doesn't concern you, why would you bother to remember it? So I truly don't know. There's no trick, and why would I want to toy with you?"
As they spoke, they reached the city wall. Sanzang dismounted, crossed the drawbridge, and entered the city gate directly.
On the main street, they saw two old men sitting beneath a veranda, chatting. Sanzang said to his disciples, "Stand in the middle of the street, keep your heads down, and behave yourselves. I'll go to the veranda and ask about this place."
The Pilgrim and the others obeyed, standing quietly. The elder stepped forward, pressed his palms together, and said, "Venerable benefactors, this humble monk greets you."
The two old men had been deep in conversation—discussing the rise and fall of dynasties, who was virtuous and who was sage, lamenting how the heroic deeds of bygone days had vanished without a trace, sighing endlessly. Suddenly hearing someone greet them, they returned the courtesy and asked, "What is your business, venerable sir?"
"This humble monk has come from afar," Sanzang replied, "to pay homage to the Buddha. Having just arrived in your esteemed region, I do not know what place this is. Could you tell me where there is a charitable household where I might beg a meal?"
"This is Tongtai Prefecture ," the old man said. "Beyond the prefectural office lies a county called Diling County . If you wish to beg a meal, there's no need to go far. Past this memorial archway , there is a north-south street. On the west side, facing east, you'll see a tiger-head gate tower —that's Squire Kou 's house. There's a sign at his door reading ' Ten Thousand Monks Welcome .' A wandering monk like yourself can go and eat your fill there! Don't interrupt our conversation—go now, go now!"
Sanzang thanked them and turned to the Pilgrim. "This is Diling County in Tongtai Prefecture. Those two elders said that past the archway, on the north-south street, facing east, is the tiger-head gate tower of Squire Kou's house. There's a sign reading 'Ten Thousand Monks Welcome.' We're to go there for a meal."
"The Western Land is indeed a Buddha realm," Sha Wujing remarked. "There truly are households devoted to feeding monks. Since this is a prefectural seat, we need not have our travel documents inspected. Let us beg a meal and continue on our way."
The elder and his three disciples walked slowly along the main street, drawing the attention of passersby. People crowded around to stare at their strange appearances, both startled and curious. The elder repeatedly warned, "Behave! Behave!" The three kept their heads down, not daring to look up.
Turning a corner, they indeed saw a north-south street. As they walked, they spotted a tiger-head gate tower. On the screen wall inside the gate hung a large sign inscribed with four characters: "Ten Thousand Monks Welcome."
"In this Western Buddha realm," Sanzang said, "whether wise or ordinary, people are free from scheming. When those two elders told me, I hardly believed it, but seeing it now, I know it's true."
Bajie, coarse and impatient, lifted his foot to barge straight in.
"Wait, you fool!" the Pilgrim called. "Wait until someone comes out. Let's ask before entering."
"Big Brother is right," Sha Wujing agreed. "If we barge in without knowing the inside from the outside, we might offend the benefactor."
They stopped at the gate, setting down their horse and luggage. Before long, a servant came out carrying a scale and a basket. Startled at the sight of them, he dropped everything and ran back inside, reporting, "Master! Four monks have arrived outside—and they look extremely strange!"
The squire was leaning on a staff, pacing in his courtyard, reciting the Buddha's name without pause. Hearing this report, he immediately threw down his staff and came out to greet them. Seeing the master and disciples, he was not afraid of their ugly appearances. "Come in quickly! Come in quickly!" he urged.
Sanzang, polite and deferential, entered with the others. Passing through a lane, the squire led the way to a building. "This building on the upper side," he said, "is a Buddha hall, scripture hall , and dining hall prepared for you, venerable sirs. The lower side is where my family lives."
Sanzang praised him repeatedly, donned his cassock, bowed to the Buddha, and stepped into the hall to behold it:
Incense smoke curled like clouds; candlelight blazed brightly. The hall was filled with floral splendor, decorated everywhere in gold and jade. On a vermilion rack hung a purple-gold bell ; beside a painted lamp stand , a pair of flower-patterned drums stood. Several banners embroidered with the Eight Treasures fluttered; a thousand Buddha statues were gilded with gold. An ancient bronze censer and an ancient bronze vase , carved lacquer tables and carved lacquer boxes . In the ancient bronze censer, sandalwood incense burned continuously; from the ancient bronze vase, lotus flowers radiated light. On the carved lacquer table, auspicious clouds shone bright; in the carved lacquer box, fragrant petals were piled high. In a glass cup , pure water was crystal clear; in a glazed lamp , fragrant oil burned brightly. When a golden chime rang, its sound was melodious and slow. Truly, this was a jeweled chamber where worldly dust could not enter—a private Buddha hall grander than any temple.
The elder washed his hands, took incense, kowtowed and worshipped the Buddha, then turned to bow to the squire. The squire supported him and invited him into the scripture hall. There, they saw:
Square tables and standing cabinets, jade boxes and gold cases. In the square tables and standing cabinets were piled countless scriptures; in the jade boxes and gold cases were stored many scrolls. On a painted lacquer table were laid paper, ink, brushes, and inkstones —all fine writing implements. Before a pepper-painted screen were books, paintings, a zither, and a chess set—all refined and serene, full of subtle meaning. A jade chime hung, light and resonant; a dragon-whisker whisk stood ready to sweep away wind and moonlight. A pure atmosphere refreshed the spirit; a clear mind and vegetarian diet deepened the heart's tranquility.
The elder was about to bow again, but the squire supported him. "Please remove your Buddhist robe," he said. Sanzang took off his cassock and then formally greeted the squire. He also introduced the Pilgrim and the other two disciples. The squire ordered the horse to be fed and the luggage placed in the corridor. Only then did he ask about their origins.
"This humble monk is an envoy from the Great Tang in the East," Sanzang replied. "I am journeying to the Spirit Mountain to pay homage to the Buddha and seek the true scriptures. Hearing that your household reveres monks, I came to pay my respects and beg a meal. After eating, we will be on our way."
The squire's face lit up with joy. He laughed and said, "Your disciple is named Kou Hong, styled Dakuan. I am sixty-four years old. From the age of forty, I made a vow to feed ten thousand monks, thus fulfilling my spiritual practice. Now, after twenty-four years, I have a ledger of all the monks I've fed. Recently, I counted the names—I have fed nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-six monks. I was short by four, unable to complete my vow. Today, Heaven has sent you four venerable masters, making the full ten thousand! Please leave your names and stay at least a month. Let me complete the fulfillment ceremony, and then I will send you to Spirit Mountain with carriages and horses. From here to Spirit Mountain is only eight hundred miles—not far at all."
Sanzang was overjoyed and agreed to stay temporarily. No more need be said of that.
The servants of the Kou household bustled about, carrying firewood, drawing water, fetching rice, flour, and vegetables to prepare a meal. The commotion reached the squire's wife, who asked, "Where have these monks come from that you're preparing a meal so hastily?"
"Four eminent monks have arrived," the servant replied. "The master asked about their origins. They said they were sent by the emperor of the Great Tang in the East to worship the Buddha on Spirit Mountain. We don't know how far they still have to go. The master said this is a heavenly opportunity and ordered us to prepare a meal for them immediately."
The old lady was also delighted. "Bring me my clothes," she told the maid. "I want to see them too."
"Old Madam," the servant said, "you can only look at one of them. The other three are too ugly to behold!"
"You don't understand!" she replied. "Often those who are ugly, strange, and unusual are celestial beings incarnate. Go quickly and tell your master."
The servant ran to the scripture hall. "The old madam has come," he announced. "She wishes to pay respects to the venerable masters from the East."
Sanzang immediately rose from his seat. Before he could finish speaking, the old lady was already at the hall's entrance. She raised her eyes and saw Tang Sanzang's dignified and noble bearing. Turning to look at the Pilgrim and the others, she knew they might be celestial beings, but still felt a tremor of fear. She stepped forward and knelt.
Sanzang quickly returned the courtesy. "You honor me too much, Bodhisattva," he said.
The old lady asked the squire, "Why aren't the four venerable masters sitting together?"
Bajie pouted and said, "The three of us are disciples."
Alas! His voice boomed like a tiger's roar in deep mountains, frightening the old lady even more. As they spoke, another servant reported, "The two young masters have also arrived."
Sanzang turned to look. Two young scholars had entered. They knelt before the elder and kowtowed. Sanzang hastily returned the courtesy. The squire stepped forward and took the scholars by the hand. "These are my two sons," he said. "Their names are Kou Liang and Kou Dong. They have just returned from their studies and were about to have lunch. Hearing that you venerable masters had arrived, they came especially to pay their respects."
"Excellent! Excellent!" Sanzang said happily. "Truly, 'If you wish for a high family standing, practice good deeds; if you wish for fine sons and grandsons, let them study.'"
The two scholars asked their father, "Where has this venerable sir come from?"
The squire laughed. "From far, far away! He was sent by the emperor of the Great Tang in the East, in the Southern Jambudvipa Continent, to worship the Buddha on Spirit Mountain and seek the true scriptures."
"I have read in the *Shilin Guangji*," the scholar said, "that there are only four great continents under Heaven. Our land is called Western Oxen Continent, and there is also Eastern Pūrvavideha Continent. I wonder how many years it took to travel here from Southern Jambudvipa?"
Sanzang smiled. "This humble monk spent more days delayed on the road than traveling. We often encountered demons and monsters and suffered many hardships. Thanks to my three disciples' protection, it has taken fourteen years to reach your esteemed region."
The scholars were full of praise. "Truly divine monks! Truly divine monks!"
Before they could say more, a young servant came to announce, "The meal is ready. Please, venerable sirs, come and eat."
The squire asked his wife and sons to return to the inner chambers while he accompanied the master and disciples to the dining hall. The hall was arranged with great care:
Gold-lacquered tables and black-lacquered chairs. In the front row were five plates of colorful fruits, arranged in fashionable patterns by skilled hands. The second row held five plates of appetizers; the third, five plates of fruits; the fourth, five large plates of pastries. Every dish was sweet and fragrant. Vegetable soup, rice, and steamed buns steamed hot, spicy and savory, all pleasing to the palate and enough to satisfy hunger. Seven or eight servants attended them, while four or five cooks bustled about without rest. Look at them—serving dishes, adding rice, coming and going like shooting stars chasing the moon. Bajie ate bowl after bowl, devouring everything like a whirlwind scattering clouds. The master and disciples enjoyed a hearty meal.
The elder rose, thanked the squire, and prepared to depart. But the squire stopped him. "Venerable Master, rest easy for a few days. As the saying goes, 'Starting is easy, but finishing takes time.' Let me complete the fulfillment ceremony, and then I will send you on your way."
Seeing the squire's sincerity, Sanzang had no choice but to stay. Five or six days passed before the squire invited twenty-four local Buddhist monks to prepare a fulfillment ceremony. The monks spent three or four days copying scriptures. They chose an auspicious day and began the Buddhist rites. The customs here were much like those of the Great Tang:
Large banners were hung; Buddha statues were arranged. Everyone lit candles and burned incense together. Drums were beaten, cymbals clashed, flutes and pipes were played. Cloud gongs and horizontal flutes sounded clear and bright, all following the musical score. They played a set of instruments, then performed a tune, and everyone chanted together as they opened the sutra repository. First, they worshipped the Earth God, then invited the divine generals. Documents were issued; Buddha statues were venerated. They recited the *Peacock Sutra*—each verse capable of dissolving calamities. They lit a Medicine Master Lamp, its bright flames illuminating all directions. They performed the Water Repentance texts to resolve enmity; they chanted the *Avatamsaka Sutra* to eliminate slander. The monks devoted themselves wholeheartedly to the Three Vehicles of the Dharma, each one utterly sincere. This continued for three days and three nights before the ceremony concluded.
Tang Sanzang's heart was fixed on Spirit Mountain. He longed to leave and came again to bid the squire farewell.
"Venerable Master," the squire said, "why are you in such a hurry to leave? Have I been remiss in my hospitality these past days? Have I offended you?"
"I have already troubled your household too much," Sanzang replied. "How could I dare to be offended? But when the Great Tang emperor saw me off at the pass, he asked when I would return. I casually said three years. Little did I expect such delays on the road—fourteen years have already passed! I do not yet know if I will obtain the true scriptures. Returning will take another twelve or thirteen years. Would this not be a violation of the imperial decree? The sin is too great! I beg you, venerable squire, to let this humble monk continue on his way. When I have obtained the true scriptures, I will return and stay at your house for some days. Would that not be acceptable?"
Zhu Bajie could not contain himself. "Master, you are being too unreasonable! Old Squire Kou is so wealthy and has made this great vow to feed monks. Now that it's just been fulfilled, he is sincerely asking us to stay. What harm is there in staying a year or half a year? Why must you rush off? You're leaving such fine meals to go begging elsewhere! There's no relative of yours waiting ahead—what's the hurry?"
The elder scolded him sharply. "You gluttonous beast! All you know is eating. You don't care about returning to report to the emperor. You're nothing but a beast that eats when there's food in the trough and scratches itself when there's a post to rub against! If you insist on being so greedy and stubborn, I'll go alone tomorrow!"
Seeing his master angry, the Pilgrim immediately grabbed Bajie and punched him several times about the head and face. "You fool! You don't know when to stop! You've made the master angry with all of us!"
Sha Wujing laughed. "Well struck! Well struck! Even when you keep quiet, you're annoying enough—and you dare to speak!"
Bajie sulked in a corner, not daring to say another word.
Seeing the discord among the master and disciples, the squire put on a conciliatory smile. "Venerable Master, do not be angry. Relax and stay today. Tomorrow, I will prepare banners and drums, invite some neighbors and relatives, and see you off on your journey."
As he spoke, the old lady came out again. "Venerable Master," she said, "since you have come to our house, do not refuse so stubbornly. How many days have you stayed now?"
"Half a month," Sanzang replied.
"These half month count as my husband's merit," she said. "I also have some money saved from needlework. I would like to feed you venerable masters for another half month."
Before she finished, Kou Liang and Kou Dong also came out. "Four venerable sirs," they said, "our father has fed monks for over twenty years but never met such good men as yourselves. Now his vow is fulfilled. Your arrival has truly brought honor to our humble home. We are young and do not understand karma, but we have often heard it said, 'The husband cultivates and gains; the wife cultivates and gains; those who do not cultivate gain nothing.' Our father and mother each wish to fulfill their own intentions and seek their own karma. Please do not refuse! Even we brothers have saved some of our tuition fees and would like to offer you half a month's hospitality before seeing you off."
"I already dare not accept the old madam's kindness," Sanzang said, "let alone trouble you two young masters. I absolutely cannot stay longer. I must leave today—please do not take offense! If I delay the imperial deadline, I cannot bear the responsibility."
The old lady and her two sons, seeing his firm resolve, grew somewhat angry. "We kindly ask you to stay, yet you are so stubborn! If you must go, then go! Stop your endless chatter!" Mother and sons turned and went into the inner chambers.
Bajie could not help but speak again. "Master, don't be so extreme. As the saying goes, 'Keep some goodwill, lest you face future blame.' Let us stay a month and fulfill their wishes. What harm is there? Why must you be so urgent?"
Tang Sanzang scolded him again. Bajie hastily slapped his own mouth twice. "Spit! Spit! Spit! I said I wouldn't talk too much, but I couldn't help myself!"
The Pilgrim and Sha Wujing snickered. Tang Sanzang turned on the Pilgrim. "What are you laughing at?" He reached for his head, about to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell. The Pilgrim quickly knelt. "Master, I wasn't laughing! I wasn't laughing! Please don't recite it! Please don't recite it!"
Seeing the tension among the master and disciples grow, the squire dared not press them further. "Venerable Master, do not argue," he said. "Let it be settled—I will see you off tomorrow."
He left the scripture hall and instructed his scribe to write more than a hundred invitations, inviting neighbors and relatives to see the Tang Monk off on his westward journey the next day. He also ordered the cooks to prepare a farewell banquet, instructed the stewards to make twenty pairs of colorful banners, hire a troupe of musicians, invite a group of monks from Nanlai Temple, and a group of Daoist priests from Dongyue Temple. Everything was to be ready by the next morning's si hour (around 9-11 AM).
The staff received their orders and busied themselves. Soon, night fell. After the evening meal, everyone retired to their rooms. Truly:
Several crows returning home passed over a neighboring village; the sound of bells and drums from the watchtower echoed faintly in the distance. The streets and markets grew quiet as human activity ceased; lamps flickered dimly in a thousand homes and ten thousand doors. The moon was bright, the wind clear, flowers cast their shadows; the Milky Way dimly reflected the stars. When the cuckoo's call sounded, the night had deepened; Heaven's voice was silent, and the earth lay still.
That night, around the third or fourth watch (3-5 AM), the servants responsible for preparations rose early and went to purchase various goods. Look at them—those preparing the banquet bustled in the kitchen; those making banners chattered in the main hall; those inviting monks and Daoists ran until they were out of breath; those hiring musicians stamped their feet in impatience; those delivering invitations rushed east and west; those readying carriages and horses shouted orders back and forth. The commotion lasted all night until dawn. By the si hour, everything was ready—money makes things easy indeed.
As for Tang Sanzang and his disciples, they rose early as well. Servants attended to their washing and breakfast. The elder ordered the luggage packed and the horse saddled. Hearing that they were to leave, Bajie pouted and grumbled, but he had no choice but to pack his alms bowl and carry his load. Sha Wujing brushed the horse and put on the saddle and bridle. The Pilgrim handed his master the nine-ringed monk's staff and hung the pouch containing the travel documents around his own chest. They prepared to depart.
The squire then invited them to the large rear reception hall, where another banquet had been laid out, even more lavish than the one in the dining hall. Curtains were drawn high; screens surrounded the four sides. In the center hung a painting of "Longevity Mountain and the Sea of Blessings." On the side walls hung four scrolls depicting the landscapes of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Fragrant mist rose from a dragon-patterned tripod; auspicious vapors ascended from a magpie-tailed censer. Fruits on the display plates were arranged in colorful patterns; flower ornaments shone brilliantly. Gold decorations were piled on the tables; lion-shaped sugar sculptures stood neatly arranged. The musicians before the steps played according to the score; the food and wine on the hall were spread out like embroidered silk. The vegetarian soups and rice were especially refined; the fragrant wine and tea were exceptionally mellow. Though this was the home of an ordinary commoner, it rivaled the mansions of princes and nobles. A chorus of laughter and cheerful voices shook heaven and earth.
As the elder was exchanging courtesies with the squire, a servant reported, "The guests have all arrived."
They were the invited neighbors, brothers-in-law, uncles, cousins, and fellow devotees who practiced vegetarianism and chanted the Buddha's name. All knelt before the elder and paid their respects, then sat down according to rank. Below the hall, drums and flutes played; above, songs were sung and wine was drunk. Bajie's eyes grew wide at the sight of the feast. "Brother," he said to Sha Wujing, "loosen your belt and eat your fill! Once we leave Squire Kou's house, we'll never get food this good again!"
Sha Wujing laughed. "Second Brother, what are you saying? As the saying goes, 'No matter how precious the meal, a full stomach is enough. Only one's own path is private; no one has a private belly that can hold infinite things.'"
"You're too useless!" Bajie retorted. "One good meal like this, and I won't be hungry for three days!"
The Pilgrim heard him. "Fool," he said, "don't burst your belly! We still have to walk!"
Before he finished, it was nearly noon. The elder picked up his chopsticks and recited the *Sutra of Uncovering the Meal*. Bajie, alarmed, grabbed the rice ladle, gulping down bowl after bowl. He also stuffed five or six bowls into his sleeves and grabbed handfuls of steamed buns, cakes, and pastries, stuffing them into his sleeves as well. Only then did he follow his master as they rose.
The elder thanked the squire and the assembled guests, and they all walked out together. Outside the gate, colorful banners and jeweled canopies were arranged. Musicians stood on both sides. The invited monks and Daoist priests had just arrived. The squire laughed. "You're all a bit late. The venerable masters are in a hurry to leave, so there's no time to invite you for a meal. We'll thank you properly when they return."
The crowd made way for the master and disciples. Those with sedan chairs carried them; those with horses rode; those on foot walked. All let the four venerable masters lead the way. The sound of drums and music shook the heavens; banners blocked out the sun. People came and went; carriages and horses crowded the streets. Everyone had come to watch Squire Kou see off Tang Sanzang. This grand spectacle, more splendid than pearls and jade, rivaled the finest spring pageant beneath embroidered canopies!
The group of monks played Buddhist tunes on their instruments; the group of Daoists played Taoist melodies. Together, they escorted the master and disciples out of the prefectural city. At the Ten-Mile Pavilion, someone had prepared food and wine, raising cups to see them off. The squire, still reluctant to part, said with tears in his eyes, "Venerable Master, when you obtain the true scriptures and return, you must come to my house and stay a few more days, fulfilling this old man's wish."
Sanzang was deeply moved and thanked him repeatedly. "If I reach Spirit Mountain and see the Buddha, I will surely speak first of your great kindness. When I return, I will come to your door and thank you in person—thank you in person!"
As they spoke, they had unknowingly walked another two or three miles. The elder earnestly bid farewell. The squire wept loudly and turned back. Truly: He who had vowed to feed monks attained wondrous enlightenment; he who had no affinity could not see the Buddha.
Let us leave aside Squire Kou and the crowd returning home after seeing them off at the Ten-Mile Pavilion. Now, the master and his disciples had traveled forty or fifty miles when dusk began to fall.
"It's getting late," Sanzang said. "Where can we find lodging?"
Bajie, carrying his load, pouted and grumbled, "We had ready tea and food, cool tiled rooms to stay in, but you insisted on rushing off like a funeral procession! Now it's dark—what if it rains? What then?"
"You wretched beast!" Sanzang scolded. "Still complaining! As the saying goes, 'Chang'an may be fine, but it's no place to stay forever.' When we have the affinity to worship the Buddha and obtain the true scriptures, and return to the Great Tang, I will report to the emperor and have the imperial kitchen's food served to you. Let you eat for a few years until you glut yourself to death, you beast—then you'll die a bloated corpse!"
Bajie sneaked a laugh and dared not speak further. The Pilgrim looked into the distance and saw a few buildings by the roadside. "We can stay there! We can stay there!" he said quickly to his master.
The elder approached and saw a collapsed memorial archway. On it hung a faded old plaque, covered in dust, with four characters barely legible: "Huaguang Shrine." The elder dismounted. "Huaguang Bodhisattva," he said, "was a disciple of Blazing Five-Light Buddha. For exterminating the Poison Fire Ghost King, he was demoted and transformed into the Five Manifestations Spirit Official. Surely there must be someone looking after this shrine."
They entered together. The corridors and rooms had all collapsed; the walls were in ruins. Not a soul was to be seen—only overgrown weeds. They were about to turn back when, unexpectedly, dark clouds gathered in the sky and a heavy rain began to fall. With no other choice, they found a spot in the ruined building that could shelter them from the wind and rain. They sat quietly, not daring to speak loudly for fear of attracting demons. Some sat, some stood, enduring a sleepless night in misery.
Alas! Truly, "When joy reaches its peak, sorrow follows; when happiness comes, grief is not far behind." What would happen when dawn broke and they continued their journey? Listen to the next chapter for the answer.