“In Bhiksuland you only saved 1,111 little boys,” said Friar Sand. “That's no comparison with this heavy, soaking rain that's saved tens of thousands of lives. I've been quietly admiring my big brother's magical powers that extend right up to the heavens, as well as his mercy that covers the whole earth.”
“Merciful and good our big brother may be,” said Pig with a laugh, “but it's just a show of being kind. Inside he's a troublemaker. When he's with me he treats me like dirt.”
“When have I ever treated you like dirt?” Monkey protested. “Often enough,” replied Pig. “You're always seeing to it that I get tied up, hung up, boiled and steamed. After being so kind to all those tens of thousands of people in Fengxian you should have stayed there for half a year and let me have a few more good filling meals. Why did you have to be sending us on our way?”
When the venerable elder heard this he shouted, “You idiot! Can you think of nothing but your greed? Stop quarrelling and be on your way.” Daring say no more, Pig thrust out his snout, shouldered the luggage, and followed the master and his fellow disciples along the road, laughing loudly.
Time moved as fast as a shuttle, and soon it was late autumn. What could be seen was,
The end of ripples on the waters,
The mountains' bones looking lean.
Red leaves fly around,
In the time of yellowing flowers.
Under the clear and frosty sky the nights seem longer;
The moon shines white through the windows.
Many the household fires in the evening light;
The water gleams cold all over the lake.
The clover fern is now white,
While knotweed blooms red.
Mandarins are green and oranges yellow;
Willows are withering and the millet is ripe.
Beside the desolate village wild geese land among the reeds;
Cocks call by the country inn while the beans are harvested.
When the four of them had been travelling for a long time they saw the towering shape of a city wall. “Wukong,” said Sanzang, waving his riding-crop, “you can see there's another city there. I wonder where it is.”
“Neither of us have ever been here before,” Monkey replied, “so how could I know? Let's go ahead and ask.”
Before the words were out of his mouth an old man appeared from among some trees. He was leaning on a stick, lightly dressed with coconut sandals on his feet and had a sash round his waist. The Tang Priest hastily dismounted and went over to greet the old man.
Returning his greeting as he leaned on his stick, the old man asked, “Where are you from, reverend sir?”
“I am a poor monk sent by the Tang court in the East to worship the Buddha in the Thunder Monastery and fetch the scriptures,” the Tang Priest replied, putting his hands together in front of his chest. “Now that I have come to this distinguished place I wonder which city it is that I can see in the distance, and I would ask you, venerable benefactor, to inform me.”
When the old man heard this he replied, “Enlightened master of the dhyana, this humble place of ours is Yuhua County in one of the prefectures of India. The lord of our city is a member of the king of India 's royal family who has been made prince of Yuhua. He is a very worthy prince who respects both Buddhist and Taoist clergy and cares deeply for the common people. If you go to see him he will certainly treat you with great respect.” Sanzang thanked the old man, who went off through the woods.
Sanzang then turned back to tell his disciples what had happened. The three of them were happily going to help the master back on his horse when Sanzang said, “It's not far. There is no need to ride.” The four of them then walked to a street beside the city wall to take a look. This was an area where traders lived; it was crowded with people and business was good. The people looked and sounded no different from those of China. “Be careful, disciples,” said Sanzang. “On no account must you act wild.”
At that Pig bowed his head and Friar Sand covered his face, leaving only Monkey to support the master. On both sides of the road people were crowding in to look at them, shouting, “We only have eminent monks who subdue dragons and tigers here. We've never seen monks who subdue pigs and monkeys before.” This was more than Pig could stand.
Thrusting his snout at them he said, “Have you ever seen a monk in all your life who subdued the king of the pigs?” This gave all the people in the street so bad a fright that they fell back on both sides of them stumbling and tripping over, trying to get away.
“Put that snout away at once, you idiot,” said Monkey with a grin, “and don't try to make yourself look pretty. Just pay attention while you're crossing the bridge.” The idiot lowered his head and kept grinning. Once over the drawbridge they entered the city, where the main roads were bustling and prosperous with bars and houses of entertainment. It was indeed a city in a divine region, and there is a poem to prove it that goes,
An eternally iron-strong city like splendid brocade,
Full of fresh color, lying next to a river near mountains,
Connected by boat with lakes for the movement of goods.
A thousand wine-shops await behind curtains.
Everywhere smoke rises from towering buildings;
Each morning the lanes are filled with the hubbub of traders.
The look of the city was much like Chang'an:
Cock-crows and the barking of dogs were all just the same.
“I have heard tell of the foreigners in the West,” Sanzang thought with secret delight, “but I have never come here before. On close examination it is no different from our Great Tang. This must be what is meant by paradise.” When he learned that a bushel of hulled rice cost only four tenths of an ounce of silver and a pound of sesame oil only eight thousandths of an ounce of silver he realized that this truly was a place where crops grew in abundance.
After walking for quite a long time they reached the prince of Yuhua's palace. On either side of the palace gates were the office of the remembrancer, the law courts, the prince's kitchens and the government hostel.
“Disciples,” said Sanzang, “here is the palace. Wait while I go inside for the prince to inspect our passport and let us on our way.”
“We can't very well stand at the gates while you go in, Master,” said Pig.
“Can you not see 'Government Hostel' written over that gateway?” Sanzang asked. “Go and sit there and see if you can buy some fodder for the horse. If the prince offers me a meal when I have my audience with him I will send for you to share it.”
“Go on in, Master, and don't worry,” said Brother Monkey. “I can cope.” Friar Sand carried the luggage into the hostel, where the staff were so alarmed by their hideous faces that they did not dare ask them any questions or send them away but could only invite them to sit down.
Meanwhile the master changed his habit and hat and went straight into the prince's palace with the passport in his hands. Soon he was met by a protocol officer who asked, “Where are you from, reverend sir?”
“I am a monk sent by the Great Tang in the East to worship the Lord Buddha and fetch the scriptures in the Great Thunder Monastery,” Sanzang replied. “Now that I have reached this distinguished place I would like to have my passport inspected and returned, which is why I have come to seek an audience with His Royal Highness.” The protocol officer passed this on, and as the prince was indeed an enlightened one he sent for Sanzang at once.
Sanzang bowed in greeting before the prince's hall, and the prince invited him into the hall to sit down. When the prince read the passport that Sanzang handed him and saw the seals and signatures from so many countries on it he signed it himself, folded it up and put it on his table. “Venerable Teacher of the Nation,” he said, “you have passed through many countries on your way here from Great Tang. How long has your journey taken?”