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.

Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing followed the summoning officer to the outside of Wumen Gate. The Yellow-Gate officer at once announced them for audience. The three stood evenly and did not kneel. The king asked, "Who are these three disciples, the foremost disciples of the holy monk who is to be my son-in-law? What are your surnames and names? Where do you live? For what reason did you leave home and take vows? Which scripture have you come to fetch?" Wukong moved forward as if to mount the hall. A guard beside him shouted, "Do not advance. If you have something to say, speak it here." Wukong laughed: "We are monastics; once we have one step, we take the next." Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing then stepped forward as well. Tripitaka, fearing the king might be startled by him, rose and called, "Disciple, His Majesty asks why you have come; report it at once." Seeing Tripitaka, who was standing beside him as master, Wukong could not restrain himself and cried out, "Your Majesty looks down on me and also on yourself. Since you invited my master to be your future son-in-law, how can you keep him standing on guard? In this world, those called husband to a princess are honored persons; is it proper that an honored person does not sit?" Hearing this, the king turned pale and, startled, wanted to leave the hall for fear of losing face before the crowd. He forced himself to stand firm and ordered an attendant to bring a brocade cushion, then asked Tripitaka to be seated. Only then did Wukong present his report:

I, Old Wukong, was originally from the Flower-Fruit Mountain, the Water-Curtain Cave, in the sovereign land of Dongsheng and the proud kingdom beyond. My mother was earth, my father heaven; I was born when a stone split. I once bowed to a Perfect Person and mastered the Great Way. Returning again to the Immortal lands, I roamed with a cry among blessed heavenly realms. I descended into the sea to tame dragons, climbed mountains and seized beasts. I destroyed my dead-name, rose with a new life, and was appointed Great Sage Equal to Heaven. I delighted in jade towers and loved roaming jeweled pavilions, and I met heavenly immortals, singing in joy each day; in the sacred lands I woke to happiness each morning. Only because I once disrupted the peach banquet and rebelled against the Heavenly Court, Buddha himself seized and subdued me. I was pressed beneath the Five-Element Mountain; hungry, I ate iron pellets, thirsty, I drank molten copper, and for five hundred years I had not tasted even tea and grain. It was fortunate that my master came from the Eastern Land, bowed to the West, and Guanyin commanded him to free me from heavenly disaster and great danger, and to take refuge beneath the Yoga gate. My former name was Wukong; I am now called Wukong the Wanderer. The king, hearing this weight of name and deed, was startled and leapt from the dragon couch, coming forward with a royal hand to hold Tripitaka down and say, "My future son-in-law is indeed my heavenly fate: to have found such an immortal husband for my daughter." Tripitaka, filled with gratitude, bowed his thanks and invited the king to resume his throne.

He asked again: "Who is your second senior disciple?" Zhu Bajie cupped his mouth and barked with showy boldness:

In a former life I was a man, greedy for pleasure and wholly lazy. All my life I was muddled, my nature disorderly and my heart confused. I knew nothing of Heaven's height or Earth's breadth, and could not understand how wide the sea ran or how far the mountains stretched. At a time of seclusion, I suddenly met a true person. In half a sentence he untangled my net of sin; in two or three words he split open the gate of calamity. At that moment I awakened, cast myself down at the master's feet, and diligently practiced the disciplines of the twonines; with reverence I perfected the three-three methods before and after. When my practice was complete I rose into heaven and surpassed the Celestial Treasury. Through the Great Emperor's great favor I was appointed Tianpeng Yuanshuai, entrusted with the river troops, and roamed with ease in the Han Hall. But because I drank at the peach banquet and mocked Chang'e in drunken play, I was stripped of rank and banished to the mortal world; by mistaken rebirth I was cast in a pig form. I dwelt at Mount Fuling and committed endless misdeeds. Then I met Guanyin, who pointed out the Way of good. I took refuge in Buddhism, protected Tang Sanzang, and went straight to the Western Heaven to seek the subtle scripture. My Dharma name is Wuneng; they call me Zhu Bajie." The king listened, blood-cold and fearful in his heart, and dared not even glance at him. The pig then stirred up his spirit still more, shaking his head, cupping his mouth, wrinkling his ears, and laughing loudly. Tripitaka, still fearing he might alarm the ruler, shouted, "Zhu Bajie, be restrained!" Only then did he cross his hands, bow with ceremony, and feign composure.

He asked again: "Who is the third disciple, and why did he take refuge?" Sha Wujing folded his hands:

Old Sha was originally an ordinary man; fearing the cycle of rebirth, I journeyed in search of the Way. I roamed by cloud over the sea's edges and drifted to the sky's far shores. Robe and beggar's bowl were always at my side, and each time I refined my heart and spirit in retreat. Through faithfulness I met an immortal couple. I reared a boy and through karmic accord was matched with a demoness. My skill was complete in three thousand measures; my three-and-four virtues were in harmony. I rose and surpassed the heavenly realm, bowed before Xuanqiong, was granted command of the Curtain-Raising General, and served in the phoenix-laden carriage and dragon carriages; I was enfeoffed as a general. Yet at the peach banquet too I accidentally broke a crystal goblet, was banished to the River of Flowing Sand, changed face and appearance, and committed misdeeds that harmed life. In good fortune, the Bodhisattva journeyed far to the East and urged me to take refuge; I waited for the Buddha-child of the Tang court, and then to go west for the true fruit of scripture.

From that point I renewed myself and again cultivated Great Awakening. I took my surname from the river. My Dharma name is Wujing, and I am called a monk. The king, hearing this, was both terrified and joyful: joyful that his daughter had gained a living Buddha, fearful that all three were indeed demons and spirits. As he was still wavering, the Yin-Yang Office officer from the main platform announced: "The wedding date is fixed for this year, this month, on the twelfth day, the Renzichen lucky day; the hall is auspicious and marriage may proceed." The king asked, "What is today by the calendar?" The officer reported, "Today is the initial eighth day, the Wushen day; a monkey brings fruit, so this is precisely the time to welcome worthy matter and settle marriage." The king rejoiced greatly and ordered the chief steward to sweep and prepare the outer palace gardens, pavilions, towers, and terraces. He also instructed that the would-be son-in-law and the three senior disciples be given lodging there. Afterwards, he would arrange a proper ceremonial banquet and match the princess. All obeyed. The king ended court and withdrew; many officials dispersed, and the matter ends here for now.

Thereafter the three disciples of Tripitaka arrived in the imperial flower garden. Evening deepened, and they spread a simple vegetarian meal. Zhu Bajie said happily, "Today we should also eat at last." The attendants brought in sacks of plain rice, noodle rice, and other foods. Zhuk Bajie ate and then added more, and again and again he ate until his belly was full and hard with fullness, then finally stopped. Soon after, they lit the lamps, laid out bedding, and each retired to sleep.

When Tripitaka saw that there was no one beside him, he reproached Wukong bitterly and cried out angrily, "Wukong, you ape, again and again you ruin me. I said we were only going to switch the credentials document, and not to go before the painted pavilion; why did you insist on dragging me there? Now, what have we seen? What trouble have you brought? What am I to do?" Wukong smiled and replied, "Master once said: 'If one first throws embroidered balls, and there is old affinity, husband and wife may still be made.' I judged this to suit an old custom and so brought you there. I also remembered what the abbot at Jigubojin Temple had said, so I wished to test true and false. When I saw the emperor's face, it looked a little darkened, but I did not yet see how the princess truly was." Tripitaka asked, "So what if you see the princess?" Wukong said, "With my Fire-Eyes Golden-Gleam vision, the moment I see a face I can tell true from false, good from evil, wealth from poverty, and I can clearly discern the upright from the crooked." Sha Wujing and Zhu Bajie laughed and said, "Brother has even learned face-reading again." Wukong answered, "As for face readers, I am as if their grandson." Tripitaka shouted, "Hold your tongue. She is fixed on taking me as her husband; what are we to do now?" Wukong said, "Wait until the twelfth-day congratulatory rites. The princess will then come out to bow to her parents, and I will stand nearby to watch. If she is truly a woman, then become a son-in-law and enjoy the honor within this realm." Hearing this, Tripitaka grew even more angry and cursed, "You rogue ape! You have harmed me again. It was Wuneng who said this, and we are already well past nine and nearly three-quarters through the tenth of ten measures; yet you still wag your hot tongue at me. Close it quickly. If you speak out of turn again, I will recite a spell and make you feel what cannot be borne." Wukong, hearing the threat of a spell, flinched and knelt before him: "Do not recite, do not recite. If she is truly a woman, then at the wedding hall we will all raise such a riot in the palace, and take you away too."

The disciples kept talking and did not realize they had entered the deeper watch of the night. It was exactly:

The palace water-clock dripped on in heavy measure, and dense fragrance of blossoms hung in the air. Pearled bead-curtains drooped from embroidered doors while the quiet courts had no torchlight. The cold swings left only emptiness and shadow in the air, and the qingdi melody of the reed flute faded into stillness across all directions. Flower cages circling the house shone in moonlight; beyond, with no trees in the open sky, stars alone flickered. The cuckoo's call had ended, and the butterfly's dream went on long. The Silver River stretched across the heavens; white clouds returned to their homeland. It is the keenest hour of parting in the heart, when wind-shaken young willows feel even more desolate. Zhu Bajie said, "Master, it is late. Let us discuss matters in the morning. Sleep now." The three disciples truly passed one night in rest.

At dawn, roosters with golden combs sang at daybreak. The king ascended the hall and held morning court. Thereupon:

The palace court opened in radiance, purple qi rose high, and spring wind blew imperial music up into the blue heavens. Cloud banks moved, leopard-tail banners swayed, and sunlight made the jade pendants on dragon-head finials tremble. Fragrant mist slightly deepened the green of palace willows, and dew beads moistened the blossoms of the gardens. A cry of joy rose as ministers and officials danced in line; sea calm and rivers clear, one realm in perfect order. After the civil and military officials had finished court, the king also proclaimed: "The Palace of the Imperial Household shall prepare the joyous twelfth-day wedding banquet. Today, polish and set out the spring vessels and let the would-be son-in-law relax and stroll in the imperial flower garden." He ordered the Ritual Office to lead the three worthy attendants to a side hall so they might sit briefly with others, while the Imperial Household should arrange three vegetarian seats there as accompaniment. Both gardens and courts were set to music by the Music Bureau, with attendants in attendance to enjoy the spring scene and withhold the day. Hearing this, Zhu Bajie answered at once, "Your Majesty, my master and I are constantly together and do not have one moment apart. Since we are to banquet today in the imperial flower garden, take us there for two days of recreation; then teach my master to serve as son-in-law to your family. Otherwise this business cannot be closed." The king, seeing his ugliness and hearing his coarse speech, then saw him also twist his head, pinch and knot his neck, cup his mouth, and shake his ears; it was as though the whole style would ruin the engagement. He therefore yielded and ordered, "In the Eternal-Anchor Huayi Pavilion arrange two seats; I will sit there with the would-be son-in-law. On the Keep-Spring Terrace arrange three seats and ask the three of you not to sit there, lest master and disciples be arranged awkwardly." The fool then looked up, offered a courtly bow, and said, "Many thanks." All withdrew in turn. Another edict was then sent to the inner palace officials to arrange the banquet, summoning consorts from three courts and six chambers, including the princess, to prepare and beautify the gifts in waiting for the twelfth-day marriage.

By the Hour of Si it was time, and the king had his carriage arranged and invited Tripitaka to bring everyone to the Imperial Flower Garden to view it. It was a beautiful place:

The paths are paved with bright-colored stone, and the fences are carved with sculpted railings. The pathways are paved with painted stone; by the sides of the path, beside the rocks, strange blossoms grow long and high. In and beyond the railings bloom unusual flowers. The peach trees sway among emerald hues, and the young willows glitter with yellow orioles. As one walks, faint fragrance fills one’s sleeves; each step brings a clean, clear fragrance up onto the robe. A Phoenix Terrace and Dragon Pools; bamboo pavilions and pine bungalows. On the Phoenix Terrace, the rite of sounding reed flute calls the phoenix down. In the Dragon Pools, fish are reared and then changed into dragons as they leave. The bamboo pavilion holds poems, refined by endless revision, cut and smoothed like white snow. In the pine pavilion are literary anthologies, shaped to pearl-and-jade brilliance and glossed in blue-threaded volumes. Faux mountains of green, rocks like clusters of jade, and winding water with deep blue ripples. Peony pavilions, rose trellises, layered brocade laid like velvet. Jasmine cages and crabapple beds, piles of rosy light and jade-inlaid settings. Peonies with strange scent, and wild hibiscus with extraordinary brilliance. White pears and red apricots compete in their blossom; purple fragrant herb and golden chrysanthemum vie in glowing splendor. Lichun flowers, pencil-flowers, azaleas—glimmering and bright. Smiling flower, balsam, and fritillary—stately and imposing. In every place the red has soaked through like warm rouge; in every clump the rich fragrance is thick as stitched brocade. Still more delightful is the east wind returning with mild sunshine; the whole garden’s charm has found full force.

A whole set of kings and officials admired it for a long time. Already officials from the ceremonial bureau had invited the three disciples into Liuchun Pavilion. The king led Tripitaka to Huayi Pavilion, and each went to feast. The singing, dancing, flute-playing, and instrumental music, together with all the arrangements and displays, were truly this:

Lofty rises the Vermilion Gate as dawn-light is born, while phoenix towers and dragon halls stretch beneath auspicious haze. Spring color is finely spread in embroidered flowers and grasses; far-off sunlight sends a clear brightness across brocade robes. Melody and flute-song twine together like a fair of immortals; cups pass hand to hand with pure jade-like wine. Lord and ministers rejoice together in shared delight at the sights; in Huayi may peace and prosperity be secured for all ages.

At this moment Tripitaka saw how the king honored him, and there was no way to resist; he could only offer reluctant acquiescence. He was outwardly cheerful, inwardly troubled. While seated, he saw that on the wall hung four gilded folding screens painted with scenes of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Each scene had inscriptions, and all the verses were poems by renowned Hanlin scholars.

"Spring-Scenery Poem" says:

One cosmic breath of Heaven turns in majestic balance; the great earth flourishes, and all ten thousand things are made new. Peach and plum contend in beauty, and blossoms overflow in brilliance; swallows arrive, piling fragrance-dust upon painted rafters.

"Summer-Scenery Poem" says:

The perfumed wind drifts, slow and lingering with longing; in palace courtyards, pomegranate and sunflower glow in the sun. The tone of a jade flute startles the noon dream; lotus-lily fragrance spreads across the hanging curtains.

"Autumn-Scenery Poem" says:

By the Golden Well a tung-leaf turns yellow; pearl curtains need not be drawn when frost came in the night. The swallows know the day to leave the nest, and geese bend through reedbeds and pass beyond their homeland.

"Winter-Scenery Poem" says:

Rain in the sky and flying clouds grow bleak with cold; north winds drive snow, piling on a thousand mountains. In the innermost palace there is always a red brazier’s warmth; news comes that plum blossoms have opened, filling jade-banded rails.

Then the king saw Tripitaka viewing the poems freely and said, "The Prince-Consort delights in savoring the flavour of verse and must surely be skilled at reciting. If you would not refuse, please match each rhyme in turn. How does that sound?" Tripitaka was one who had forgotten himself in scene and feeling, set in sudden seeing and essence. Seeing the king’s respect, he ordered that he would answer in the same rhyme, and without notice he recited one line: "When the sun warms, ice melts, and earth settles into accord." The king rejoiced greatly and called to his attendant guards: "Bring the four treasures of the writing studio. Ask the Prince-Consort to finish the matching lines, and I will have them recorded in good time." Tripitaka, delighted, made no refusal, lifted his brush, and replied in matching verse.

"Composed Spring-Poem" says:

The sun grows warm and the ice dissolves, and the whole earth is made new. The imperial garden’s flowers and plants flourish once more. Gentle wind and rich rain moisten the people with grace; sea and river run clear, far from worldly dust.

"Composed Summer-Poem" says:

The Dipper points south, while daylight in the southern quarter lingers slow; sophora clouds and pomegranate fire wrestle in radiance. Golden orioles and purple swallows cry in the palace willows; dual tones turn cleverly into the red-purple curtains.

"Composed Autumn-Poem" says:

Fragrance drifts through orange-green and orange-yellow leaves; pine and cypress remain green and rejoice when frost descends. Hedge chrysanthemums half-open, heaping brocade-like splendor; the charm of reed pipe and song carries to water and cloud country.

"Composed Winter-Poem" says:

Auspicious snow clears to a cold, crisp air; strange peaks, cunning stones, and jade-massed mountains. The stove burns beast-charcoal and toasts soft curd; with arms on hips, one sings high while leaning on the green balustrade.

The king, delighted at the matching poem, said aloud in praise, "What a line: 'With folded arms I sing, leaning on the green balustrade'!" He then ordered the music office to play the new verses, and they scattered only at day’s end.

The three disciples in Liuchun Pavilion had also fully enjoyed themselves; each had drunk a few cups and all were somewhat tipsy. As they were about to go look for Tripitaka, they saw that he was already in a pavilion with the king. Zhu Bajie’s stupid humor flared and he called out at once: "What good cheer, what ease! We have had enough of this enjoyment today. It’s time to go and sleep while still full." Sha Wujing laughed: "Brother Two is very little restrained. With this food and drink in the body, how can one sleep?" Zhu Bajie said, "How do you know? As the saying goes, 'After a full meal, nobody wants to lie still like a corpse while there is no grease in the belly.'"

After parting from the king, Tripitaka returned to the pavilion and rebuked Zhu Bajie: "This ox, he grows even more rustic. What sort of place is this, all he does is bawling and calling out? If he should offend the king, might he not strike at his life in anger?" Zhu Bajie replied, "No trouble, no trouble. We paid him proper family respects and exchanged greetings; that won’t make him resentful. As the saying goes, 'you cannot beat a relative and you cannot stop scolding a neighbour.' We are all fooling around—why should we fear him?" Tripitaka shouted at him, ordering him brought over to be struck with twenty staff blows. Sun Wukong grabbed him and hauled him over at once; Tripitaka raised the staff and struck. The fool cried out, "Prince-Consort, Mercy! Mercy!" A banquet officer nearby moved to intercede. The fellow scrambled up, muttering: "Fine lord, fine Prince-Consort. Before the betrothal is even settled, you’ve already begun to apply royal law." Sun Wukong sneered at him and said, "No nonsense, no nonsense—go to sleep early."

They stayed in Liuchun Pavilion for one more night. By dawn they held the entertainments again.

They did not realize they had been celebrating for three or four days when it was the twelfth day, an auspicious date. Three offices of the Ministry of Merit and Rewards submitted a joint report: "Since the eighth, in obedience to Your Majesty’s edict, the Prince-Consort’s hall has all been completed, and we have only been waiting to arrange the bridal chamber and furnishings. The wedding banquet has also been completed, with more than five hundred tables set for meat and vegetarian dishes each." The king rejoiced and wished to invite the Prince-Consort to take his seat, but an inner-court official then informed him at court, "Your Majesty, the Empress in the inner chambers requests your presence." The king withdrew into the inner palace. There, in Zhaoyang Palace, the three principal empresses, the six chamber consorts, and the princess were laughing and talking together. It was truly clusters of floral brilliance and embroidered splendor, a scene so rich and alluring it seemed to surpass the moonlit halls of heaven, no less than the jade palace of the immortals. Four new songs for the joyful union were offered as proof:

"Happiness Song" says:

Joy, joy, joy—rejoice, this is delight. A marriage-bond, beauty in affectionate love. So exquisite the palace adornment, what is Chang'e compared to it? Dragon hairpin and phoenix hairpin, dazzling in flying gold threads. Lips like cherries, teeth white as snow, cheeks rosy; her light form is flower-slender. Layer upon layer of brocade in heaps of five-colour bloom; incense-like fragrance drifts, with a retinue worth a thousand pieces of gold.

"Meeting Song" says:

Meeting, meeting, meeting—bewitching and graceful. More alluring than a fox-maiden, outshining every beloved beauty. She can topple states and enthrall cities, flower against jewel. Her makeup and attire become ever more radiant, her pins and bracelets richly brilliant. Her heart is orchid-like, character like refined iris, her powdered face with icy skin rich in noble grace. Brows of ink one fine line, like distant hills in stillness; she gathers fine, coquettish beauty in ranks of brocade.

"Fairness Song" says:

Fair, fair, fair—jade maid, immortal girl. So very lovable, truly worthy of praise. Strange fragrance is dense and perfumes and rouge are woven together. The blessed land of Heaven’s Terrace is far; how could it rival the king’s own house? Laughing and babbling in graceful poses, flute and song whirl in bright uproar. Flower mounds and brocaded terraces, a thousand beauties; what in the mortal world can match her?

"Marriage Song" says:

Marriage, marriage, marriage—fragrant musk and sandal rise. A host of fairy maidens, a throng of beauties. Concubines change silks; the palace mistress puts on fresh adornment. Hair-knots piled cloud-black in her crown, rainbow robes crushing the phoenix skirt. One line of pure celestial melody rings out, two lines of vermilion and purple glitter. In former days there was once a vow of riding the phoenix-chariot; today at last we are glad to witness this good marriage.

But the king arrived, and the empresses and consorts escorted the princess and the court maidens to welcome them. The king was overjoyed as he sat in Zhaoyang Palace. After the salutations, he said: "My worthy daughter, since the eighth you have spent the day with ribbons and tossed balls. To have met a holy monk must mean your wishes are fulfilled. All the court offices have understood my intentions; all arrangements are complete. Today is the proper day. Do not miss the hour—go soon to the joining banquet." The princess came near and knelt deeply, then spoke: "Father, forgive your daughter’s thousand faults. I have one petition: in these past days I have heard the palace officials say that the holy monk Tripitaka has three disciples and is exceedingly ugly. My daughter cannot face him, for fear I will be terrified at the sight. Please allow him to be released beyond the city walls, so he may not frighten my frail body and bring danger upon us all." The king said, "Child, do not speak further; I was almost forgetting. He truly is ugly. I have had him kept all these days at the Liuchun pavilion in the Imperial Garden. Let him come to court today, and then send him away beyond the city gate; only then should the banquet proceed." The princess knelt again and thanked him. The king then left and went to the hall, ordering that the Prince-Consort and his three companions be summoned.

Tripitaka had been counting the days by pinching his fingers, and by dawn he reached the twelfth day. Before first light he asked the three of them, "Today it is already the twelfth day. How shall we handle this matter?" Sun Wukong said, "I have already understood that the king has a touch of inauspicious destiny but has not yet touched us with harm. The only point is that the princess must not see him. If we can get out of this place, old Sun will have one glance and know what is real, and then we will act. You keep your heart at ease. He will certainly come to summon us and send us out of the city. You should accept it without fear. I will slip out unseen and come back, and then stay close to guard you."

"This time, before dawn on the twelfth day, Tripitaka had already been counting the days on his fingers. He had kept the three together and said, 'Today is the twelfth; how should we arrange this?' Sun Wukong replied, 'I have already judged that the king has a trace of inauspiciousness, and though he has not yet touched us, it has not become grave harm. Only this: he must not be faced by the princess. If we can get outside, old Sun will have one glance and see what is true, and then we can act. You just trust me. He will surely come and ask for us and send us out of the city. Do not be afraid—you rest assured; I will slip out first and then come right back, staying close to protect you.'"

The disciples were still talking when they saw an official of the royal horse-and-ceremonial office come to summon them. Sun Wukong laughed, “Come now, come now. This is surely an escort to send us off so we can still meet the Master again.” Zhu Bajie said, “If it is a send-off, there will surely be hundreds and thousands of taels of gold and silver, and we can buy some favors with people to carry back. When I get to my father-in-law’s home, I can also visit my own children.” Sha Wujing said, “Second Brother, hold your tongue and do not speak recklessly. Just follow Elder Brother’s lead.”

At once, all their baggage and horses were sent with the officials down to the vermilion steps. When the king saw them, he called Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing forward and said: “You all bring out your travel passes. I will apply the jade and stamped seal and entrust them to you, and besides I will prepare ample travel expenses so the three of you can set out quickly for Ling Mountain to see Buddha. If you return with the scriptures, there will be a heavier reward. Leave the Crown Prince here; do not worry about him.” Sun Wukong offered his thanks. He then told Sha Wujing to take out the pass document and hand it up. The king read it, then used the seal and stamped the red characters, and also gave ten ingots of gold and twenty ingots of silver as an initial courtesy gift. Zhu Bajie, who was always fond of money, immediately stepped forward to take them. Sun Wukong bowed to the throne and said, “Hurry, hurry,” then turned and was about to leave. Alarmed, Tripitaka scrambled up in a rush and clutched Sun Wukong, biting down in agitation: “You are all leaving me behind?” Sun Wukong held his hand and, with a sidelong glance, said, “You stay here with a calm mind and cheerful company. Once we fetch the scriptures, we will come back and see you.” The Master, as if unsure whether to believe him, did not let go. The officials all took this as if it were truly a final parting before departure. Very soon the king invited the Crown Prince back to the hall and ordered many officers to escort the three out of the city. The Master had no choice but to release his grip and go up the hall.

Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing left the Hall Gate with the others and parted from one another. Zhu Bajie said, “Are we really leaving now?” Sun Wukong said nothing, only walked on to the relay station. The station master greeted them, served tea, and set out food. Sun Wukong told Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing, “The two of you stay right here. Do not show yourselves. If the station master asks anything, answer vaguely. Speak with me no more. I will go to guard the Master.”

The Great Sage pulled out a single hair from his whisker, blew a breath of immortal air, and shouted, “Transform!” and at once became his own form, appearing in the station with Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing. His true form, however, suddenly leapt up into the air and turned into a honeybee. See:

Yellow wings, a yellow mouth, and a keen tail sweet as nectar; with the wind it drifts and whirls, wildly and madly. Most skilled at plucking stamens and stealing perfume, it passes through willows and swings among flowers. After many hard stirrings and straining, it flits back and forth in vain. How could a rich sweetness ever be brewed? In the end only a name is left. You could see it flying gently into the court. From afar it saw Tripitaka seated on an embroidered cushion to the king’s left, with brows drawn and a scorched heart. It flew straight to Tripitaka’s bilu hat, quietly crawled to his ear, and called out: “Master, I am here. Do not worry.” Only Tripitaka heard this; those ordinary men could not feel it at all. On hearing it, Tripitaka finally felt relieved. Before long, a palace official came to invite him: “Your Majesty, the joyful banquet has been arranged in the Zique Palace; the empress and the princess are both in attendance, and they wish to invite Your Majesty and the honored lords to join them.” The king, delighted beyond measure, went into the palace with the Crown Prince. It was exactly as said: The evil ruler loves flowers and makes disaster of them; a meditative mind, once a thought stirs, gives birth to sorrow.

As it turns out, we still do not yet know how Tripitaka will be released from the inner palace; await the next chapter for the resolution.