The superintendent ordered tea, and when it had been drank he saw to their entertainment and told the staff who were on duty to look after the pilgrims. After thanking him for this Sanzang went on to ask, “Could we go to the palace today to see His Majesty and have our passport inspected?”
“That will not be possible this evening,” the superintendent replied. “It will have to wait until tomorrow morning. I hope that you will spend a comfortable night in this humble hostel.”
A little later, when all had been prepared, the superintendent of the hostel invited the four travelers to take a vegetarian meal with him. He also told his staff to sweep out the guest rooms for them to spend the night in. Sanzang expressed endless gratitude. When they were all seated the venerable elder said, “I wonder if I could trouble you for information on something that I cannot understand. How do you raise children in your country?”
“People are the same the whole world over, just as there are never two suns in the sky,” the superintendent replied. “Children are born when their time comes after the father's seed has joined with the mother's blood and they have been in the womb for ten lunar months. After they are born they are suckled for three years and their bodies gradually grow. Everybody knows that.”
“What you tell me is no different from how they grow in my humble country,” Sanzang replied. “But when we came into the city we saw a goose coop with a little boy inside in front of every house in the street. This is something I cannot understand, which is why I ventured to raise the question.”
“Ignore that, reverend sir,” whispered the hostel superintendent into Sanzang's ear. “Don't ask about it. Put it out of your mind. Don't even mention it. Would you like to settle down for the night before starting your journey again tomorrow morning?” Sanzang's response was to seize hold of the superintendent and demand an explanation.
“Watch your words,” the superintendent replied, shaking his head and wagging his finger, but Sanzang was not going to drop the matter. He insisted on being told all the details. The superintendent had no choice but to dismiss all the staff on duty.
When they were alone under the lamplight he whispered to Sanzang, “The goose coops you asked about are there because our king is a bad ruler. Why ever do you have to keep asking about it?”
“How is he a bad ruler?” Sanzang asked. “I will not be able to set my mind at ease until you give me an explanation.”
“This country is really called Bhiksuland,” the superintendent replied. “Boytown is only what the people have started calling it. Three years ago an old man dressed as a Taoist came here with a girl just fifteen years old. She was a ravishing beauty, just like a Bodhisattva Guanyin. He presented her to our present king, who was so smitten by her charms that she became the favorite of all his women. She was given the title Queen Beauty. For some time now he's had no eyes for any of his other queens or consorts. He's so insatiable that he's been at it day and night. The result is nervous exhaustion and physical collapse. He's eating and drinking next to nothing. He might die at any moment. The Royal College of Physicians has tried every possible medicine without any success. The Taoist who presented the girl to the king was rewarded with the title of Elder of the Nation. He has a secret foreign formula for making people live a great deal longer. He's been to ten continents and the three magic islands to collect the ingredients. Everything is ready. The only problem is that it needs a terrible adjuvant to help it-a potion made from the hearts of 1,111 little boys. When he's taken it he'll have a thousand years of vigorous life ahead of him. All the little boys being kept in the coops are the ones that have been chosen. Their parents are so afraid of the king that none of them dares weep. That's why they've put out the story that this place is now called Boytown. When you go to the palace tomorrow morning, reverend sir, you must only present your passport to be inspected and returned. Say nothing about any of this.” When he had said all this he left them.
Sanzang was so horrified by what he had heard that his bones turned soft and his muscles went numb. He could not help the tears that streamed down his face as he started sobbing aloud. “Foolish king,” he exclaimed, “foolish king. Your lechery has ruined your health, and now you are planning to destroy all those young lives. How could you? What misery! The pain of it all is killing me.” There is a poem about it that goes:
The wicked monarch's folly makes him forget the truth;
His health is ruined by his unbridled lusts.
Pursuing eternal life by killing little children,
He slaughters his subjects to avoid Heaven's punishment.
This is all more than the merciful monk can bear:
He cannot accept the official's worldly wisdom.
Long are his sighs as he weeps in the lamplight;
Stricken with grief is the Buddha worshipper.
“Master,” said Pig, going up to him, “what's the matter with you? What you're doing is like taking a stranger's coffin to your own home and weeping over it. Don't upset yourself like that. As the rhyme goes,
When a monarch insists that his subjects will die
None that are loyal to live will aspire;
When a father commands his own offspring to perish
Any dutiful son will most surely expire.
The people he's going to kill are his own subjects. What are they to you? Take off your clothes, get some sleep and 'don't worry about the ancients.'”
“Disciple,” said Sanzang, his tears still flowing, “you haven't a shred of compassion. The most important thing for us monks as we accumulate good deeds is to help others. How could this deluded king be so set in his wickedness? Never have I ever heard that eating human hearts could prolong life. How could something so terrible not grieve me?”
“Don't grieve so, Master,” said Friar Sand. “When you present our passport tomorrow and seethe king you can talk to him about it. Even if he doesn't accept your advice you'll be able to see what the Elder of the Nation looks like. Probably he's an evil spirit who's thought all this up because he wants to eat human hearts.”
“Wujing is right,” said Brother Monkey. “Go to bed now, Master, and tomorrow morning I'll go to court with you to see what this Elder of the Nation is like. If he's human he's probably a heretic who doesn't follow orthodox ways but believes in drugs, and I'll convert him with the essential teachings of intrinsic nature. If he's an evil spirit I'll catch him, show the king what he is, and urge the king to control his desires and build up his strength. Whatever happens I won't let him kill those children.”
As soon as he heard this Sanzang bowed to Monkey with great courtesy and said, “What an excellent suggestion! But when we see the deluded king we must say nothing about this in case he thinks we are guilty of not knowing our place and spreading slander. What could we do if that happened?”
“I've got my magic powers,” Monkey replied. “First of all I'm going to get the little boys in the coops away from the city so that he'll have nobody to take the hearts out of tomorrow. The local officials will of course report this and the king will be bound either to order a discussion with the Elder of the Nation or else to demand more information. This will give us a chance to submit our memorial without getting ourselves into trouble.” Sanzang was very pleased.
“How are you going to get the children out of the town now?” he asked. “If you really can rescue them you will be doing the greatest of good deeds, worthy disciple. But do it quick, because if you lose any time you may be too late.”