Chinese Storytelling

The master Tripitaka from Tang and his disciples, four people, along with the horse, altogether five living creatures, were on their way to the Western Regions, following the imperial edict of the Tang sovereign, in order to worship Buddha and fetch the Sacred Scriptures. Along the road they had dined on the wind and slept on the dew, put on the moon as their hat and wrapped themselves in the stars, climbed mountains and crossed rivers, stopping at dusk and starting at dawn.

They had been on their way not only for one day, no, for several years. Today it was about the time of dusk and it was late autumn. In front of them a large stream, eight hundred li wide, was obstructing their way. In the first place, there was no ferry. In the second place, there was no bridge. The sky was darkening and it was difficult to continue towards the West. They had better try to find a place near the river to spend the night.

Suddenly they discovered a village with some hundred households and proceeded to ask for shelter for the night in one of the houses. The family head of this house was called Chen Qing, or landlord Chen Second Brother. His elder brother was Chen Cheng, or landlord Chen Older Brother. The two landlords invited them to stay in their house. Very good! In this family they must have a predestined relationship to Buddhism, they seemed to find pleasure in doing good deeds and giving alms, helping the distressed and succouring those in peril. Now when travelling monks were coming from afar, asking for shelter, they would treat them well and invite them to sit down in the hall.

Tripitaka was well aware that his three disciples had rather unpleasant looks, but the day was growing late, they would probably not scare anybody. In the eastern wing of the hall there was a dark corner with no daylight, so he told his three disciples to sit down there, while he himself was seated together with landlord Second Brother in the upper hall and chatting. Landlord Second Brother ordered his cooks to serve a vegetarian meal: cook the raw food and warm up the cold food. That would take a short while. So they would have to wait a bit. They would have a cup of tea while waiting. This was an awkward moment. Tripitaka had to find a few sentences on the ways of the world. He must find something to say to make conversation. If you are together with old friends, that’s an easy matter. Then you have a lot to speak about. But if you are with somebody you have just met, you may ask his honourable surname and his great given name and then, perhaps, you have nothing more to say! If you have nothing more to say, you have to find something to say!

"Ahem, our venerable host!"

"Well, Honoured Father!"

"We poor monks are coming here to seek shelter for the night, we are very grateful for your kindness. But I can see that you, our venerable host, carry a worried look. Your eyes are full of tears. May I ask what burdens your heart?"

"Woe is me!"

If Tripitaka had not asked this question, well, still the man’s face would carry a worried look. His eyes would be full of tears. But when Tripitaka did ask him, he stirred up his feelings. The poor man could no longer prevent his tears from flowing profusely.

"Sniff, sniff… Honourable Father, you come from another country and do not know about our place. The local people don’t have to ask, they know already. If you, Father, had not put this question, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. But since you have already asked me, let me tell you about it."

"Oh, our venerable host, our benefactor, please, favour us with your instruction."

"Our place is called River of Heaven."

"I see!"

"We have a river god."

"Amitabha Buddha!"

"He protects both people and livestock of this region against calamities and secures a bumper grain harvest."

"Very good."

"This god, most gratified by a temple erected to him in this place, protects our common people with his mighty spirit and power. Year after year he bestows our fields with sweet dew, season after season he lets a rich rain fall over our village."

"Amitabha Buddha! Very good!"

"Honourable Father! It is not good! If everything was so good, I would certainly not shed tears! What I told you all belongs to the past. In recent years it is different!"

"Does this Buddha not protect and bless you any more?"

"This is not the problem. Year after year he still bestows our fields with sweet dew, season after season he lets a rich rain fall over our village. He still protects both people and livestock against calamities and secures a bumper grain harvest every year."

"I see!"

"But this Buddha wants compensation."

"Well!"

"We also have to conduct ceremonies."

"There is nothing wrong with holding ceremonies to welcome the god."

"We have to sacrifice fragrant flowers and fruit offerings. We must offer pigs and sheep, oxen and wine."

"All of this seems reasonable."

"Whether there is nothing wrong with this, or whether it all seems reasonable, there is still a catch. Every year in spring and autumn, on the third of the third month, and now on the third of the ninth month, that is twice a year in spring and autumn, we must

arrange a ceremony and sacrifice a young boy and a young girl to the Almighty King."

"I see!"

"So although he bestows us with favours, he also strikes us with calamity. Even if he is benevolent, he is also harmful to us. Exactly because he likes to eat young boys and girls, it seems not abundantly clear that he is a fair-minded god."

"Well, my dear benefactor, whether it seems abundantly clear how fair-minded he is, this is for sure a monster who loves to eat people!"

"Oh, Honourable Father, this word is taboo! Don’t speak about it!"

"Why! You are a decent person, my dear benefactor!"

"I’m afraid I’m not impeccable."

"How many lads do you have, my dear benefactor?"

"Below my knees it is very scarce, I only have a single son, seven years old this year."

"No harm in that [bu fang]!"

"No contraceptive [bu fang]! If square [fang], it couldn’t get round!"

"It’s your luck we monks have arrived, and we shall save your boy!"

"Oh, Honourable Father, your mercy is deeper than the sea and the power of Buddha is without boundary."

"Monkey! Wukong!" shouted Tripitaka, while looking for the others. Monkey answered:

"Hey!"

"Have you heard what I was talking about with our venerable benefactor here? Have you heard what our benefactor said?"

"We are not completely deaf, and this place is not so far away. And you were speaking in a very loud voice, so we heard everything very clearly and understood every word."

"This must be a monster who eats people."

"Right!"

"You have to save the boy!"

"Well!"

"Saving the life of one person equals building a seven-storied stupa."

"It is good to build a pagoda."

"We travelling monks consider mercy and benevolence to be the essential, we go out of our way to help others."

"These words are indeed familiar to the worm in my ear. Ever since I became your disciple, for these several years, the words ‘mercy’ and ‘benevolence’ have been on your tongue from morning till evening. At first we didn’t quite understand. Later you explained for us: ‘mercy’ means ‘to bestow joy on manhood’, to let people be happy; ‘benevolence’ means ‘to ease the pain of manhood’, to remove the sorrows from people’s lives. Well, we are ready to take orders!"

"Now this man has a sorrow: He is about to take leave with his own blood and flesh. You must save the boy!"

"O.K.! May thunder strike me, if I don’t follow the order of my master!"

"Our dear benefactor!"

"Yes."

"Please, step down. Among my three disciples here, the fiercest is for sure this monkey. Don’t look at the big fellow over there with the blue face and the red whiskers, who has such strong arms and is so tall. He is no use. He is an honest fellow. Your eyes go to Pigsy with the long snout and the big ears. Do you see how ferocious and staunch he looks! But he is a bit thick-headed, he won’t do either, he is not so terrific. No, the most important person, that is him, the one who not even looks thirty per cent human, but seventy per cent like a monkey. If you go and ask him, he only has to pat himself on his bosom and then he can save not only your whole family, ... family, but all the people of your village."

"Oh, so!"

"Yes, but you should not call him Monkey! If you call him Monkey, you do not show him respect. That is not very polite. His surname is Sun, you may call him Santa Sun, or The Great Saint Equal to Heaven, The Living Buddha Sun! Well, you had better call him The Great Saint Equal to Heaven, that’s the name he likes best."

"I see."

The old man stepped down. [...]