“It is all because we bought and released that golden carp when we were staying at the Ten Thousand Flowers Inn: the carp, it turned out, was the local dragon king. When that treasonous murderer pushed me into the water I was rescued by the dragon king, who has given me back my soul and presented me with all the treasures I have on me. I never had any idea that you had borne this son, or that my father-in-law had avenged me. Our sorrows are now at an end. This is a very happy moment indeed.”
When the other officials heard what had happened they all came to offer their congratulations, and the minister gave a banquet to thank all his subordinates. The army set off on its return journey that same day. When they reached the Ten Thousand Flowers Inn the minister ordered them to encamp while Guangrui and Xuanzang went to the inn to find the old lady. The night before she had dreamt of a withered tree blossoming again while magpies made a clamorous din behind the building.
“Perhaps my grandson has come,” she thought, and while the words were still in her mind she saw Guangrui and his son at the gate of the inn.
“Isn't this my grandmother?” said the little monk; and the moment Guangrui saw his aged mother he kowtowed to her. Mother and son embraced in tears; then he told her all about what had happened. The innkeeper's account was presented and settled, and then they set off for the capital. When they reached the minister's residence, Guangrui, his wife, his mother and Xuanzang all went in to see the minister's wife, who was overcome with joy and told the servants to lay on a large banquet to celebrate.
“We can call today's banquet a 'reunion banquet,'“ said the minister, and the whole household was indeed happy.
When the Tang Emperor entered the throne hall early the next morning, Minister Yin stepped forward and submitted a memorial giving a detailed account of what had happened, and recommending Chen Guangrui as a man whose talents could be put to great use. The Tang Emperor approved the memorial and ordered that Chen Guangrui should be appointed a Scholar in order to take part in administration at court. As Xuanzang had decided to follow the contemplative life he was sent to cultivate his conduct in the Hongfu Temple. Later on Miss Yin finally ended her life in a quiet and honorable way, and Xuanzang went back to the Jinshan Temple to report to Abbot Faming. If you don't know what happened afterwards, listen to the explanation in the next installment.
Chapter 10
With a Stupid Plan the Dragon King Breaks the Laws of Heaven
Minister Wei Sends a Letter to an Officer of Hell
We shall not discuss how Chen Guangrui performed his duties or Xuanzang cultivated his conduct; instead we shall talk about two wise men who lived beside the banks of the River Jing outside the city of Chang'an. One was an old fisherman called Zhang Shao and the other was a woodcutter called Li Ding. They were both advanced scholars who had never taken the official examination, lettered men of the mountains. One day, when Li Ding had sold his load of firewood and Zhang Shao had sold his basketful of carp in Chang'an city, they went into a tavern, drank till they were half tipsy, and strolled slowly home along the banks of the Jing, each holding a bottle in his hand.
“Brother Li,” said Zhang Shao, “it seems to me that people who struggle for fame kill themselves for it; those who compete for profit die for it; those who accept honors sleep with a tiger in their arms; and those who receive imperial favours walk around with snakes in their sleeves. Taking all in all, we are much better off living free among our clear waters and blue hills: we delight in our poverty and follow our destinies.”
“You are right, Brother Zhang,” said Li Ding, “but your clear waters have nothing on my blue hills.”
“Your blue hills are not a patch on my clear waters,” retorted Zhang Shao, “and here is a lyric to the tune of The Butterfly Loves the Flowers to prove it:
The skiff is tiny amid the misty expanse of waves;
Calmly I lean against the single sail,
Listening to the voice of Xishi the beauty.
My thoughts and mind are cleared; I have no wealth or fame
As I toy with the waterweed and the rushes.
“To count a few gulls makes the journey happy.
In the reedy bend, under the willow bank,
My wife and children smile with me.
The moment I fall asleep, wind and waves are quiet;
No glory, no disgrace, and not a single worry.”
“Your clear waters are no match for my blue hills,” said Li Ding, “and there is another lyric to the same tune to prove it. It goes:
The cloudy woods are covered with pine blossom.
Hush! Hear the oriole sing,
As if it played a pipe with its cunning tongue.
With touches of red and ample green the spring is warm;
Suddenly the summer's here as the seasons turn.
“When autumn comes the look of things is changed;
The scented chrysanthemum
Is enough for my pleasure.
Soon the cruel winter plucks all off.
I am free through four seasons, at nobody's beck and call.”
“You don't enjoy the good things in your blue hills that I do on my clear waters,” replied the fisherman, “and I can prove it with another lyric to the tune of The Partridge Heaven:
In this magic land we live off the cloudy waters;
With a sweep of the oar the boat becomes a home.
We cut open the live fish and fry the green turtle
As steam coils from the purple crab and the red shrimps bubble.
Green reed shoots,
Sprouts of water-lilies,
Better still, water chestnuts and the gorgon fruit,
Delicate louts roots and seeds, tender celery,
Arrowhead, reed-hearts and bird-glory blossom.”
“Your clear waters cannot compare with my blue hills when it comes to the good things they provide,” said the woodcutter, and I can cite another lyric to the tune The Partridge Heaven as evidence:
Mighty crags and towering peaks reach to the sky;
A grass hut or a thatched cottage is my home.
Pickled chicken and duck are better than turtles or crabs,
Roebuck, boar, venison, and hare beat fish and shrimps.
The leaves of the tree of heaven,
Yellow chinaberry sprouts,
And, even better, bamboo shoots and wild tea,
Purple plums and red peaches, ripe gages, and apricots,
Sweet pears, sharp jujubes, and osmanthus blossom.”
“Your blue hills are really nothing on my clear waters,” replied the fisherman, “and there is another lyric to the tune Heavenly Immortaclass="underline"
In my little boat I can stay where I like,
Having no fear of the many misty waves.
Drop the hook, cast wide the net, to catch fresh fish:
Even without fat or sauce,
They taste delicious
As the whole family eats its meal together.
“When there are fish to spare I sell them in Chang'an market
To buy good liquor and get a little drunk.
Covered with my grass cloak I sleep on the autumn river,
Snoring soundly
Without a care,
Not giving a damn for honour and glory.”
“Your clear waters still aren't as good as my blue mountains,” came back the woodcutter, “and I too have a Heavenly Immortal lyric to prove it:
Where I build a little thatched hut under the hill
The bamboo, orchid, plum, and pine are wonderful.
As I cross forests and mountains to look for dry firewood
Nobody asks awkward questions,
And I can sell
As much or as little as the world wants.
I spend the money on wine and I'm happy,
Content with my earthenware bowl and china jug.