But when they turned round on hearing the Tang Priest's call the sight of them so frightened the monk that he called out, “My lord, why are your distinguished disciples so hideously ugly?”
“Ugly they may be,” the Tang Priest replied, “but they do have some magical powers. I have been very grateful for their protection all the way along the journey.”
As they were speaking more monks came out to greet them. The monk who had been the first to welcome the visitors explained to the others, “This teacher has come from Great Tang in China, and these three gentlemen are his distinguished disciples.”
“Teacher,” said the others with mixed pleasure and apprehension, “why have you come here from Great China?”
“I have been commanded by the Tang emperor to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures in the Western Heaven,” Sanzang replied. “As I was passing this way I have come to your monastery to ask where we are and take a vegetarian meal before setting out again.” The monks were all delighted, and they invited the visitors into the abbot's lodgings, where there were some more monks who were performing ceremonies on behalf of benefactors.
The monk who had met them first went on to explain to the others, “Come and have a look at what people from China are like: some are handsome and some are ugly. The beauty of the handsome ones could never be caught in a painting or drawing, and the ugly ones look really weird.” Both the monks and the benefactors all came to greet them, after which everyone sat down.
When tea had been drunk the Tang Priest inquired, “What is this fine country called?”
“This is Jinping, one of the outer prefectures of India,” the monks replied.
“How far is it from this prefecture to Vulture Peak?” the Tang Priest asked. “It is about seven hundred miles from here to the capital,” the monks replied, “and we have walked that distance. As we haven't gone further West to Vulture Peak we don't know how far that is and would not like to make a wild guess.” The Tang Priest thanked them.
A little later a vegetarian meal was provided, after which the Tang Priest wanted to be on his way, only to be pressed to stay by the monks and the benefactors who said, “Teacher, you must stay for a couple of days or so. Enjoy the Full Moon Festival before you go on your way.”
“On my journey I have only been aware of mountains and rivers and the danger of running into ogres or monsters,” the Tang Priest replied, “and I have lost my sense of time. I don't know when Full Moon is.”
“It's because your heart is so set on worshipping the Buddha and on enlightenment that you have not thought about it, Teacher,” the monks replied. “Today is the thirteenth of the first month and the lanterns will be tried out tonight. The day after tomorrow is the fifteenth, when the festival begins, and it goes on till the lanterns are put away on the eighteenth or nineteenth. We enjoy celebrations here and our prefect, who cares for the people, has lanterns set out everywhere and music played all night. We also have a Bridge of Golden Lamps-it's an ancient tradition that still flourishes. If you will stay for a few days, my lords, our monastery can certainly afford to entertain you.” The Tang Priest had no choice but to stay. As the bell and drum in the Buddha hall resounded to the skies the faithful came in from the streets bringing lanterns to present to the Buddha. The Tang Priest and the rest of them came out of the abbot's lodgings to look at the lanterns, after which everyone turned in.
The next day, when they had eaten the vegetarian breakfast the monks of the monastery brought them, they strolled in the garden at the back. It really was a lovely place:
It is the first month of the year,
The beginning of the spring.
The wooded garden is quiet and elegant;
The beauty of the scene subdued.
Throughout the four seasons flowers and trees contend;
Turquoise peaks rise behind each other.
Fragrant flowers are growing before the steps,
And scent comes from the plum-tree's branches.
Where there is red it joins the tender peach blossom;
Where there is green it mingles with the willows' fresh green.
Forget about the splendor of the Gold Valley Garden;
Say nothing of the Wang River landscapes painted by Wang Wei.
In the flowing stream
The wild ducks bob and rise;
Among bamboos by the thousand
Poets ponder their choice of words.
Tree and herbaceous peonies, myrtle, fleeting-smile flowers,
That waken when their time is due;
Camellias, red plum blossom, winter jasmine and daphne,
All early to open out their beauty.
The snow piled by the hidden cliff seems frozen solid still;
The clouds that drift by the distant trees already bring early traces of spring.
The deer sees its reflection beside the pool;
Cranes come to hear the lute beneath the pines.
A few halls and pavilions to East and West,
Where travelers may stay;
Buildings and pagodas to North and South
Where monks may meditate in peace.
Among the flowers
Are one or two houses to nourish one's nature,
Where double eaves rise above each other.
Amid the hills and streams
Are three or four cells in which to reline magic, Peaceful and light.
This is indeed a natural spot for a recluse:
Why look elsewhere for the earthly paradise?
After a day enjoying the garden they inspected the lanterns in the Buddha hall before going to look at the lantern festival. This is what they saw:
A splendid city of agate,
A fairyland of glass;
Palaces of crystal and mica,
Like layer upon layer of brocade,
Openwork carving behind openwork carving.
The dazzling bridge of stars moved heaven and earth
While trees of fire made waves of red
Flutes and drums played in the streets.
A moon like a ring of jade hung over a thousand gates;
Fragrant breezes blew through ten thousand homes.
There were giant turtle peaks soaring on high,
Fishes and dragons emerging from the sea,
Phoenixes sporting in the sky.
As all admired the moon and the lanterns
The atmosphere was full of harmony.
Among the crowds dressed in fine silks
All enjoyed the songs and panpipes.
Carriages rumbled along.
There was no end of beautiful faces,
Dashing gallants, And marvellous sights.
When Sanzang and the others had looked at the lanterns in the monastery they wandered around the streets of the Eastern suburb, not going back to bed till the second watch in the middle of the night.
The next day Sanzang said to the monks, “I made a vow to sweep pagodas, and on the occasion of tonight's Moon Festival I would like to ask the reverend abbot to open the doors of the pagoda to allow me to fulfil this vow.” The monks opened the doors, and when Friar Sand fetched his cassock and brought it to him on the ground floor he put it over his shoulders and prayed to the Buddha. Then he swept the ground floor with a broom, took the cassock off and gave it back to Friar Sand. He swept the second story next, and so on story by story till he reached the top. In every story there was a Buddha, and in each one he opened all the windows, swept the floor, and enjoyed the splendid views. By the time he had finished sweeping and come down again it was late and all the lamps had been lit.
It was now the night of the full moon. “Venerable teacher,” the monks said, “last night you only saw the lamps in our humble monastery and the outskirts of the city. As tonight is the main festival why don't we go into the city to see the golden lamps there?” The Tang Priest was glad to follow this suggestion, and he went with his three disciples and the monks of the monastery into the city to see the lanterns. Indeed: