This is a fresh, complete English translation of Wu Cheng’en’s public-domain one-hundred-chapter novel, produced with GPT-5.3-Codex-Spark assistance. It is an AI-assisted first edition, not a reproduction of an existing translation.

Yet it is said that the king, leaning against the dragon bed, wept with tears streaming like a spring, crying without ceasing until evening. Sun Wukong stepped forward and shouted, “Why are you in such a daze? Look—the corpse of the Taoist: one was a tiger, one a deer, and the other from the sheep was a roe-antelope. If you do not believe it, haul up the bones and see; whose human has such a skull? He was a mountain beast that had become a demon spirit, and he came here in collusion to harm you. Seeing that your vigor was still strong, he did not dare to strike. If two more years pass and your fortune declines, he will kill you and your whole realm will belong to him. Lucky that we came in time; by removing this evil spirit we saved your life. Why do you still cry, why keep crying? Have a Guanwen sent at once and dispatch me out.” Hearing this, the king at last regained his senses. The civil and military officials all reported together: “The dead were indeed a white deer and a yellow tiger; what was in the oil pan was truly sheep bones. The holy monk’s words cannot be ignored.” The king said, “Since this is so, I thank the holy monk. The night is already deep,” and ordered, “Tai-shi, invite the holy monk first to Zhiyuan Temple. At the first morning audience tomorrow, open the East Hall, and tell Guanglu Temple to prepare a pure banquet in thanks.” He was then sent to the temple and put up for the night.

At first watch the next morning, the king held court, gathered many officials, and issued an edict: “Immediately print the monk-invitation edict and post it at the four gates and every road.” In one side hall a grand feast was laid out. He prepared the carriage after court, went to the gate of Zhiyuan Temple, invited Tripitaka and the others, and together they entered the East Hall for the banquet. Not repeated here.

The rescued monks who heard of the monk-invitation edict each rejoiced and entered the city to seek Great Sage Sun Wukong, bringing their hairs as gratitude. After the abbot dismissed the banquet, the king changed the Guanwen and, with the empress, consorts, and both civil and military ministers, sent everyone out the gate. There the monks knelt along the roadside and said, “Great Sage, we are the monks saved from the riverside. We heard you swept away the demon and rescued us, and we know our king has posted a bulletin inviting monks. We have come to offer our hairs in thanks for heavenly grace.” Sun Wukong smiled, “How many of you have come?” They said, “Five hundred, not one less.” Sun Wukong gave his body a shake and collected the hairs. He said to king and ministers, monks and layfolk, “These monks were truly released by me. I drove their vehicles myself, and the cart paths were torn and crushed apart on the ridges. I also killed those two demon-priests. Now that the evil is destroyed, you have learned the Chan way has true power. Hereafter, do not act in heedless credulity. See to it that the Three Teachings are joined: honor monks, honor the Dao, and nurture worthy talent. I shall guard your realm in permanence.” The king, following his words, was in endless gratitude, and so he sent Tripitaka out of the city.

From this departure onward, Tripitaka, with sincerity and earnestness, labored in single-minded cultivation. He walked by dawn and stayed by night, drank when thirsty and ate when hungry; before he knew it, spring had passed and summer had waned, and the weather had turned to autumn. One day evening came, and Tripitaka reined in his horse and asked, “Disciple, where shall we rest tonight?” Sun Wukong said, “Master, a monk ought not to speak in terms of householders.” Tripitaka asked, “How do householders do it? How do we, as monks, do it?” Sun Wukong answered, “Householders at this hour lie on warm beds with warm quilts, a child in the arms, a wife at their feet, and sleep freely. How can we do that? We, as ordained men, follow moonlight and wear starlight, eat wind and sleep by water, walking wherever there is a road and resting only when there is none. Zhu Bajie said, “Brother, you consider only one side and not the other. The road is rugged now. I carry the heavy load; truly it is hard to go on. We must find a place to stop, sleep a while, and recover our strength, else I may collapse.” Sun Wukong said, “By the moonlight we can walk a bit farther and stay at some house when we reach one.” With no remedy, the disciples followed Wukong onward.

Not long after, they heard the sound of surging waves. Zhu Bajie said, “Enough, the road seems at its end.” Sha Wujing said, “It is a body of water blocking us.” Tripitaka asked, “How can we cross?” Zhu Bajie said, “Let me test it. I will see whether it is shallow or deep.” Tripitaka said, “Wuneng, do not speak carelessly. How is it that you can test depth?” Zhu Bajie said, “Find a goose-egg-sized stone and throw it in. If bubbles rise up, it is shallow; if it sinks with a sound, it is deep.” Sun Wukong said, “Go and try.” The fool took a stone, cast it into the water, and hearing the stone sink with fish-like splashing all the way to the bottom, he said, “Deep—deep and deep. It cannot be crossed.” Tripitaka said, “Though you have measured the depth, you do not know how wide it is.” Zhu Bajie said, “This part, I do not know.” Sun Wukong said, “I will look.” Great Sage then opened a jindou cloud and leapt into the air, fixing his gaze. He saw:

Expansive light soaked the moon, and vast reflections floated in the sky. A spirit-channel swallowed Huashan, long flow runs through a hundred rivers. A thousand tiers of fierce waves rolled, ten-thousand-ridged steep crests tumbled. No fishing fires at the bank; on the sandbank a heron slept. All was in a daze, like the sea, and as far as one could look there was no farther shore. He hurriedly gathered the cloud head and came down at the riverbank, saying, “Master, it is wide, so wide—cannot be passed! By my Fire-Eyed Golden Pupils, on a bright day I can often see a thousand li; at night, even three or five hundred li. Even now I cannot see the far bank—how could I determine the measure of its width?”

Tripitaka was greatly shocked; he could not speak, and his voice choked as he said, “Disciple, what now is this?” Sha Wujing said, “Master, do not cry. Look there by the water’s edge— is that not a person?” Sun Wukong said, “It must be a fisherman with seine ropes. Let me go and ask.” He took up the iron staff, ran two or three paces forward to where it appeared, and looked—and it was not a person. It was a stone stele. On the stele were three large seal-script characters, and below, ten small characters in two lines. The three large ones were “Tongtian River,” and the ten smaller ones read, “Across eight hundred li, from ancient times only a few men have crossed.” Sun Wukong called out, “Master, come and see.” Tripitaka, seeing it, wept and said, “Disciple, when I left Chang’an I only said in my mind that the Western Heaven was easy to reach. Who knew demons would block the way and the mountains and rivers stand so far apart?”

Zhu Bajie said, “Master, listen, whose drum-and-clapper is that? It seems to be a household making an offering. Let us go and get some offering meal; we can ask for a ford and a boat, and cross tomorrow.” Tripitaka immediately heard it and indeed there was the sound of drum and clappers: “Not Daoist instruments—that is our monastic music. Let us go there.” Sun Wukong led with the horse, and they followed the sound. There was no true road, high or low, only a stretch across the sandbank. They saw a cluster of dwellings, around four or five hundred households, and all were well kept. They looked:

A path runs by the hills and along the bank by the stream. Shutters of thorn-wood are closed everywhere; every house has bamboo courts shut fast. On the sandbank, resting herons keep their dreamlike calm; beyond the willows, calls sound with cold, strained throats. No short flute is heard; the cold stone-beat of the house-shackle is out of tune. Red amaranth branches shake in the moon; yellow reeds clash with the wind. Village dogs bark at the road, through sparse hedges; at the ferry an old fisher sleeps in his boat. The lamps are few, human breath is still, and in the half sky the bright moon hangs like a mirror. Suddenly came a waft of white-watercress fragrance, carried by the west wind across the opposite bank.

Tripitaka dismounted. He saw by the roadside a house with a banner set upright outside its gate, with bright lamps glowing within and rich incense smoke. Tripitaka said, “Wukong, this place is not like that mountain hollow by the riverbank. In a household under a roof one can avoid the cold dew and sleep at peace. You all stay away; let me first go to that alms-house gate and request a night’s lodging. If he allows me, I will summon you. If he does not, do not show your despair. Your faces are ugly and your mouths disfiguring; only for fear of frightening the people and bringing trouble, you would be left without shelter.” Sun Wukong said, “That is reasonable. Please go first, Master; we will wait here.”

The abbot then took off his travel hat, bared his head, shook out his damp robe, and dragged his staff, and went straight to the gate of the house. Seeing the gate half open, half closed, Tripitaka did not dare enter uninvited. After standing there awhile, he saw a man come out from inside: an old one with beads at his neck, chanting “Amitābha Buddha,” who came himself to close the gate. Startled, the monk pressed his palms together and cried out, “Benevolent elder, this poor monk sends his greetings.” The old man replied with courtesy, “Monk, you have come too late.” Tripitaka asked, “How do you mean?” The old man said, “If you come late, there is nothing left. If you had come earlier, my place would have fed monks to their fill—cooked rice three measures, a piece of white cloth, ten wen in copper coins. Why do you only come now?” Tripitaka bowed and said, “Elder, this poor monk is not a guest hurrying to a feast.” The old man said, “If you are not hurrying to a feast, why come here?” Tripitaka said, “I am Tripitaka, the Great Tang envoy sent westward to obtain the scriptures. I have reached your place tonight, and the day is already ending. I heard drum-and-clapper sounds from your house and came to ask for one night’s lodging; at dawn I will depart.” The old man shook his hand and said, “Monk, ordained men should never lie. From the Great Tang to here is fifty-four-thousand li. How could one as you come all alone?” Tripitaka said, “Elder, your words are most apt. Yet I still have three young disciples. They make a road through mountains, lay bridges over waters, and protect the poor monk, so that I could arrive here.” The old man said, “If you have disciples, why did they not come with you?” and said, “Please, please—I have a place in my house for you to rest.” Tripitaka turned back and called, “Disciple, come this way.”

Sun Wukong was by nature impatient; Zhu Bajie was born rough; and Sha Wujing was likewise blunt and reckless. When the three heard their master Tripitaka call, they grabbed the horse and the shoulder-pole, ignored all good order, and, like a sudden wind, charged straight in. The old man saw them and, terrified, fell to the ground, crying only, "It’s a demon! A demon is coming!" Tripitaka helped him up, saying, "Good sir, do not fear. They are not demons—they are my disciples." The old man, still trembling, said, "Such a handsome and worthy master—how did he come to have such ugly disciples?" Tripitaka said, "Though their looks are not pleasing, they can still suppress dragons and tame tigers, seize monsters and capture demons." The old man, as if not fully believing, guided Tripitaka inside slowly.

The three ferocious, unruly men then burst into the hall, tied up the horse, and dropped their baggage. In the hall were already several monks chanting scripture when Zhu Bajie, thrusting out his huge mouth, called out, "Monks, what scripture are you chanting?" The monks heard him and all suddenly looked up:

Watching the newcomers, long were their mouths, broad their ears. The frame was stout, the shoulders broad; their voices thundered. Sun Wukong and Sha Wuking, their faces were even uglier. In the hall no one among the monks there was not afraid. Though the reciter should have continued, the one in front ordered the chanting to stop. They could not mind the bell and clappers; even the Buddha images were tossed aside. All at once they blew out the lamps, and the light scattered in startled flares. They stumbled and scrambled; who had ever crossed the doorway? Your head strikes mine, like a tumbled gourd rack. The clear Dharma hall has become a grand farce. Those three brothers, seeing those people stumbling and crawling, clapped and laughed aloud. The monks grew all the more frightened, knelt and struck their heads on the ground, each guarding his life, and fled away.

Tripitaka supported the old man and walked up into the hall. There was no light at all; the three were still laughing and snickering. Tripitaka scolded, "You wild brutes, this is too improper. Morning and evening I have taught you, every day I have reminded you. As the ancients said: 'If one is good without instruction, what does that make one—a saint? If one becomes good only after instruction, what does that make one—a sage? If instruction does not make one good, what does that make one but a fool?' In this way you rush in with such abandon, you frightened down the old benefactor, scattered the reciting monks, and ruined the household’s good rites. Are you not making me bear the sin?" No one dared to answer. The old man then believed at last that they were indeed his disciples, and hurriedly turned and bowed, saying, "My lord, it is no great matter. We had just put out the lamps, scattered the flowers; the ritual is about to conclude as well." Zhu Bajie said, "If the arrangements are done, set out all the dishes and fetch wine and food. We’ll eat and then sleep." The host called, "Bring the lamps, bring the lamps." Those in the household, hearing him, were startled and alarmed: "In the hall a scripture was being chanted with many incense candles. How can you again ask for lamps?" Several servant lads came out to see. The place was black and dark. Even when they lit torches and lanterns and came in a crowd, when they looked up and saw Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing, panic made them drop the torches, and they quickly pulled back and shut the inner door, crying inside, "A demon! A demon!"

Sun Wukong picked up a torch, lit the candles, pulled over a chair, and asked Tripitaka to sit on it; his brothers sat at his sides while the old host sat in front. Just as they were taking their seats, from within the inner door another old man came out leaning on a cane and asked, "What evil spirit is this, to come in my good-household at night?" The old host seated in front sprang up and hurried behind the screen to meet him: "Brother, do not shout. It is not an evil spirit, but an arhat from Great Tang of the East travelling to fetch the scriptures. Though the disciples’ looks are fierce, truly good men can wear cruel faces." Then that host set down his cane, bowed with the four of them, and after the salutes were done also sat in front. "Bring tea. Lay out the fasting rite," he said. He called several times, but the servants, trembling, dared not approach in a group.

Zhu Bajie could not hold back and asked, "Old sir, why do you serve this formal reception from both sides like this?" The host said, "I told them to bring and present the offering to serve my lord." Zhu Bajie said, "How many people serving?" The host said, "Eight." Zhu Bajie said, "Those eight serving whom?" The host said, "They are to serve the four of you." Zhu Bajie said, "That white-faced master needs only one, the shaggy-faced thunder-mouthed one needs only two, the unlucky-faced one needs eight. For me I would need twenty attendants to be enough." The host said, "To speak that way, it seems your appetite is large." Zhu Bajie said, "It is all right if it can pass." The host said, "There are people, there are people," and by calling, had three or four dozen—about seven big and eight small—come out.

After some question-and-answer between the monks and the host, everyone at last stopped fearing. They then laid out one table at the main place and asked Tripitaka to sit there; three tables were placed on each side for his three companions; one table in front was set for the two elders. They first served simple fruits, prepared produce and vegetables, then noodles, rice, light vegetarian snacks, and starch soup, all arranged neat and in order. Tripitaka the elder raised his chopsticks and first chanted through one fascicle of the Sutra of Opening the Fast. Zhu Bajie, both anxious to gulp and somewhat hungry, did not wait for Tripitaka to finish the text. He took a red lacquered wooden bowl, thrust one bowl of white rice straight into his mouth in one motion, and ate it at once. A small servant nearby said, "My lord, you’re all wrong in your calculations. Without even holding the rice in your hands, how did you get it into your mouth without soiling your clothes?" Zhu Bajie laughed. "I did not hold it before my mouth; I already ate it." The servant insisted, "You did not even lift your mouth. How could you have eaten then?" Zhu Bajie said, "Children lie when they say no. I certainly ate it. If you do not believe me, eat again so you can see." The servants again brought another bowl and gave one bowl to Zhu Bajie. The fellow gave one swift toss and swallowed it. The household staff exclaimed, "Master! Your throat is as if built of ground brick—so smooth, so slippery!" Before Tripitaka had even finished one entire scripture, Zhu Bajie had already swallowed five or six bowls. Only then did they together raise their chopsticks and eat in unison. Zhu Bajie, whether rice, noodles, fruit, or snacks, simply scooped everything at once and ate in a messy rush, still shouting from his mouth, "Pass more. Pass more rice." Little by little, he was gone from sight, as if none came back. Sun Wukong called, "You prudent brother, eat less. Better to bear hunger in a mountain hollow and be only half-full." Zhu Bajie said, "As the saying goes: 'A fasting monk who is not full might as well be buried alive.'" Sun Wukong said, "Wind down the household fire, and do not bother with him." The two elders, bowing, said, "Let us not hide the truth from your lordship. In broad daylight we are not afraid. Even this broad-bellied elder could fast for a hundred or ten more. But it is late. We had just finished the final offerings, steaming only one shi of flour-rice, five dou of grain rice, and a few tables of vegetarian fare. We were to invite a few neighbors and all the monks to distribute merit. Unexpectedly you arrived; frightened, all the monks ran off, and even the neighbors did not dare come near. So we have offered everything to you all. If you are still not full, we can steam more." Zhu Bajie said, "Steam more, steam more."

After that, they cleared the domestic fire and tables. Tripitaka knelt and thanked the host for the offering, then asked, "Good benefactor, what is your surname?" The host said, "Chen." Tripitaka joined his palms and said, "I am this poor Tripitaka, from the Hua ancestral line." The host said, "My lord is also surname Chen?" Tripitaka said, "Yes. At home, in secular life too, I was a Chen. May I ask: what kind of fasting rite was this just now?" Zhu Bajie laughed, "Why ask him, master? Surely it was Qingmiao Zhai, Ping’an Zhai, or some Liaozhang Zhai, wasn’t it?" The host said, "No, no." Tripitaka asked again, "Then what exactly was it?" The host answered, "It was a preparatory dead-ancestor zhai, to be offered beforehand." Zhu Bajie laughed so hard he nearly collapsed and said, "Good sir, your discernment is poor. We are kings at stitching lies into bridges to dupe people. How could you deceive us with this lie? Do monks not know ritual matters? There are only pre-repair Grain Storehouse zhai and pre-repayment zhai. Where is a 'preparatory dead zhai'? No one in your house has died. Why hold a dead rite?"

Wukong, hearing this, inwardly rejoiced and said, “This fool has become a bit sensible. —Old grandfather, you have spoken wrongly. What is called ‘Yuxiu Wangzhai’?” The two elders inclined themselves and said, “You are taking the Journey, so why did you not walk the proper road and end up at my place?” Wukong replied, “We were on the proper road. We saw a surge of water blocking our way and could not cross. Hearing the sound of drums and cymbals, we came to your estate to seek lodging.” The elder asked, “When you came to the riverbank, did you see anything?” Wukong said, “Only one stone stele, with the three characters ‘Tongtian River’ above it, and beneath it, in ten characters, ‘Directly passes eight hundred li; through all ages few have walked this path.’ No other thing.” The elder said, “Go farther up the bank and look; only about a li from that stele there is a temple of King Linggan. Did you not see it?” Wukong said, “I did not. Please tell me, what is Linggan?” The two elders together wept and said, “Sir, that Great King:

By one response a temple is raised in a region, his mighty spirit aids the people for a thousand li. Year after year he sends sweet rain on the manor; year after year festive clouds fall on the village. Wukong said, “Sweet rain and falling festive clouds—those are fine. Yet why are you all so sorrowful and distressed?” The old man stamped his feet, struck his chest, and cried out, “Sir, Though grace is great, there is also grievance; though compassionate and benevolent, he still hurts people. Only because he must eat boys and girls; he is not a plainly manifest upright god.” Wukong said, “He must eat boys and girls?” The elder said, “Exactly so.” Wukong said, “So your turn must have come, then?” The elder said, “This year it has come to our house. A hundred families live here. This place lies in Yuanhui County of the land of Chechi, called Chen Family Hamlet. This Great King holds his sacrifice-fair once a year and must be offered one boy and one girl, together with pigs and sheep and sacrificial wine. He eats once, and he keeps us with timely winds and rain; if we do not hold the rite, he brings misfortune and disaster.” Wukong asked, “How many sons do you have in your household?” The elder beat his chest and said, “Poor me! Poor me! To ask of sons makes me ashamed. This is my younger brother, called Chen Qing. Old Jun is called Chen Cheng. I am sixty-three this year, he is fifty-eight, and all our children are in hardship. From age fifty onward I had no son. My kin advised me to take a concubine; unable to refuse, I took another wife, who bore a daughter, just eight this year, named Yicengjin.” Bajie said, “What an expensive name. Why is she called Yicengjin?” The elder said, “I keep only difficult household accounts: repairing bridges, mending roads, building temples and stupas, giving alms to monks. There are ledgers for all this. One time it is three taels, another time five taels. But when a daughter is born, her cost equals thirty catties of gold. Thirty catties make one scale; therefore she is called Yicengjin.” Wukong asked, “And that one’s son?” The elder said, “My younger brother has a son as well, a troublesome one, seven years old, named Chen Guanbao.” Wukong asked, “Why that name?” The elder said, “At home we make offerings to Lord Guan; under Lord Guan’s seat we obtained this son, so we named him Guanbao. My brother and I together are one hundred and two years old and have only these two descendants. We did not expect the sacrifice turn to come to my house, and therefore we cannot dare not offer. Thus the father-son bond is hard to cut and hard to give up. So first we prepare a merit-field rite for the boy. Therefore this is called ‘Yuxiu Wangzhai.’"

Tripitaka heard this and could not keep the tears from welling down his cheeks: “This is exactly what the ancients said: ‘The yellow plum does not fall while the green plum does; Heaven in its partiality harms men with no sons.’ Wukong laughed, “Let me ask him one more thing. Old grandfathers, how much is your household estate?” The two elders said, “Somewhat much: four or five dozen mu of wet fields, six or seven dozen mu of dry fields, eight or nine dozen pasture lots; two or three hundred water buffalo, twenty or thirty donkeys and horses, and countless pigs, sheep, chickens, and geese. At home there is even spare grain we cannot eat and clothes we cannot wear. Our property and holdings are all, as one might reckon, fully counted.” Wukong said, “With such a family estate, you seem to have been very economical in saving it.” The elder said, “How do you see me as economical?” Wukong said, “Since you have this private property, how can you bring yourself to offer away your own sons and daughters? For fifty taels of silver you could buy one boy-child; for one hundred taels you could buy one girl-child. Even if it did not pass two hundred taels in all, is it not better to keep one’s own children and descendants?” The two elders wept, one with the other, “Sir, you do not know. That Great King is most numinous; he often comes walking among our houses.” Wukong said, “When he comes walking, what does he look like? How great or short is his figure?” The elders said, “We do not see his form at all. We only smell one rush of fragrant wind and know at once that the Great King has arrived. We then quickly fill a full bucket of incense and offer it to the smoke. Young and old alike, hearing the wind, kneel and bow. Whatever is ours, from large bowls to little bowls, he knows. He remembers the exact year and month of each child’s birth. He only takes naturally born sons and daughters. Do not say he cannot be bought with two or three hundred taels; even if one had thousands or millions in taels, one cannot buy children of this exact same month and year, perfectly alike.”

Wukong said, “Very well, then. Bring out your son-child at once and let me see him.” Chen Qing hurried inside and brought Guanbao out into the hall and set him before the lamp. The boy, unaware of life and death, held two fists full of fruit in his sleeves and danced about, eating and playing. Wukong saw him, silently recited a spell, and in a turning of his body transformed into the exact form of Guanbao. The two boys held hands and danced before the lamp. Terrified, the old man hastened and knelt in haste. Tripitaka said, “Sir, this is not a true son, not a true son.” The old man said, “This master suddenly speaks, and yet has changed into the form of my son. He calls out once and both children answer and move alike. He has ruined our years of life. Please show your original form; please show your original form.” Wukong wiped his face with a hand and returned to his true form. The old man knelt before him and said, “Sir, now I see what you truly can do.” Wukong laughed and said, “Do you look like your son?” The old man said, “Like, like, like—exactly the same face, exactly the same voice, exactly the same clothing, exactly the same height.” Wukong said, “You have not looked closely enough. Bring a scale and weigh. Is he the same weight as your son?” The elder said, “Yes, yes, yes—exactly the same weight.” Wukong said, “Can this be accepted for the rite?” The elder said, “Too good, too good. It can be offered as sacrifice.”

Wukong said, “I will now offer my life in place of this child’s and leave your household line and incense to continue. I shall go to make the sacrifice to that Great King.” Chen Qing knelt and prostrated himself, saying, “If your kindness is truly compassion, I will send one thousand taels of silver with Tripitaka for him to carry westward.” Wukong said, “Will you not at least thank old Sun?” The elder said, “You have already replaced the sacrifice; if I lose you, what then?” Wukong said, “How can that be losing you?” The elder said, “The Great King has already eaten him.” Wukong said, “Would he dare eat me?” The elder said, “He will not eat you. He says, as a matter of honesty, you are too fishy-smelling.” Wukong laughed, “Let Heaven’s command take its course. If he eats me, my life is short; if he does not, that is my destiny. I am going with you to the rite.”

Chen Qing kept on kneeling and giving thanks, and again offered to send five hundred taels of silver. But Chen Cheng neither knelt nor gave thanks; he only leaned against the screen gate and wept in pain. Wukong understood and came up, held him, and said, “Elder brother, because you do not bow to me, do not thank me—you are because you cannot bear to part with your daughter, are you not?” Chen Cheng only then knelt and said, “Yes, I cannot bear to. With your great favor, it is enough that you have saved my nephew. But I, old and without sons, have only this one daughter. When I die, her crying will be most intense. How can I let her go?” Wukong said, “Quickly steam rice from five dou of grain and prepare fine vegetarian dishes to feed my long-nosed Master. Have him transform into your daughter; my brothers and I will go together for the sacrifice. Let us carry out a yin-zhi stratagem and save the lives of both your son and your daughter. Why not?”

Hearing these words, Bajie was inwardly startled and said, “Brother, you would work your magic and, whether I live or die, you still drag me into it.” Wukong said, “Eldest brother, it is said, ‘A chicken does not eat food gained without labor.’ You and I have entered this house and received this fine offering; how can you say you are not full, yet refuse to save others in their distress?” Bajie said, “Brother, in things of transformation, I cannot do such things.” Wukong said, “You also have thirty-six kinds of transformation; how is this one beyond you?” Tripitaka said, “Wuneng, your elder brother speaks most truly and suitably. It is said, ‘To save one life is better than building a seven-tiered pagoda.’ First, there is deep gratitude for this kindness; second, it gathers hidden merit in virtue; besides, on this cool night, you have no business, so let you two brothers go and play a little.” Bajie said, “You hear what the Master says. I can only transform into mountains, trees, stones, a leprous elephant, a water buffalo, or a large fat man, and that is all. To transform into a little daughter would be difficult.”

Sun Wukong said, “Eldest Brother, do not trust him. Bring out your cherished child and show her.” Chen Cheng hurried inside, carried out the child so precious he seemed worth a scale of gold, and came to the hall. All the wives and concubines of the household, old and young, from inside and outside alike, came out, knelt, and bowed, pleading only for the child’s life to be spared. The girl wore on her head a flower-green circlet of jade and silk with eight treasures and hanging pearl strands; on her body a red-and-yellow woolen jacket, over it a dark-green satin cloak with a board-like, checkered collar; at her waist a broad red floral silk skirt; on her feet a pair of light-red felt shoes with toad-head fronts; on her legs a pair of gauze-gold knee-breeches. She was also holding fruit and eating it. Sun Wukong said, “Zhu Bajie, this is the girl. Change to match her at once; we are going to the sacrifice.” Zhu Bajie said, “Elder Brother, how could I become one so tiny and handsome?” Sun Wukong said, “Hurry. Do not start an argument.” Zhu Bajie, in a panic, said, “Brother, do not hit me. Let me change and then see.”

Zhu Bajie spoke a spell, shook his head a few times, and cried, “Transform!” When he changed, he did look like the girl’s face, but his belly was still large and he did not look like a proper fellow. Sun Wukong laughed, “Change again.” Zhu Bajie said, “With your spell it still will not transform fully—what can I do?” Sun Wukong said, “Have you somehow made a maid’s head onto a monk’s body? You’ve made him neither male nor female. How is that right? Raise your vital force at once.” He blew one breath of immortal qi at him, and at once the boy changed to exactly match the child. Then he instructed, “The two elders, take your treasured household and your son and daughter inside—make no mistake. Soon my brother and I will slip in and play, so he cannot recognize us at once. Give him the good fruit to eat and do not let him cry out, lest the Great King suddenly perceive and take the wind and flee. Wait until my brother and me finish our little antics.”

Then this Great Sage told Sha Wujing to protect Tripitaka: “I will become Chen Guanbao, and Zhu Bajie will become a one-scale-gold boy.” The two were arranged, but he asked, “How will the offering be done? Will he be taken by tying and bundling? Or tied and brought away? Will he be steamed, or chopped into pieces?” Zhu Bajie said, “Brother, do not do this to me. I have no such skill.” The old man said, “No, no. Just use two red-lacquered cinnabar trays. Ask you two to sit inside the trays, place them on the table, and have two young men carry each table and carry you up to the temple.” Sun Wukong said, “Fine, fine, fine—bring out the trays, and let us try.” The old man immediately brought out the two cinnabar trays, and Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie sat on them. Four young men lifted the two tables, carried them around into the courtyard, then carried them back and set them in the hall. Sun Wukong said joyfully, “Zhu Bajie, if we keep walking and joking about like this, we are no different from temple-platform monks.” Zhu Bajie said, “If they carry us out and carry us back, and carry us from one end to the other till dawn, I am not afraid. But if they carry us into the temple, then they are going to eat us. This is not play.” Sun Wukong said, “You only watch me. When it is my turn to be eaten, then you can go.” Zhu Bajie said, “Who knows how he eats? If he eats a boy first, I can run; if he eats a girl first, what then?” The old man said, “At the annual sacrifice, I always have a brave fool hiding behind the temple or under the offering table, and he has seen him eat the boy first and then the girl.” Zhu Bajie said, “Fate, fate.”

Just while the brothers were in the middle of this talk, they heard outside the crashing din of gongs and drums, torches flaring with light. The household folk opened the front gate and called, “Bring out the boy and the girl.” The old man began to weep and sob, and the four young men carried the two of them outside.

At this point, no one yet knows how their lives will end. Listen to how it is resolved in the next chapter.