Journey to the West

39

A Pill of Red Cinnabar Is Brought from Heaven

After Three Years the Monarch Is Revived

The story tells how the Great Sage Sun, his head aching unbearably, pleaded with his master: "Stop, stop, I'll bring him back to life." When Sanzang asked how, Monkey replied, "The only way is to go to the Underworld, find out which of the kings down there has his soul, and ask for it back to revive him with."

"Don't trust Monkey, Master," said Pig. "He told me earlier there'd be no need to go to the Underworld because he could get him brought back to life in the world of the living. He thought that would be a good way of showing off his powers."

The venerable elder, taken in once again by this breath of evil, started reciting the Band−tightening Spell, which threw Monkey into such a desperate state that he accepted the condition gladly: "I'll cure him within the world of the living, I really will."

"Don't stop," said Pig, "carry on saying the spell."

"You stupid, evil beast," railed Monkey, "inciting the master to say that spell." Pig was falling about with laughter.

"Brother, brother, you thought you could put one over on me, but you never imagined I'd put one over on you."

"Stop, Master, stop," pleaded Monkey. "I'll bring him back to life without leaving the world of the living." "And how are you going to do that?" Sanzang asked.

"With a single somersault of my cloud I can rush in through the Southern Gate of Heaven," said Monkey. "I won't go to the Palace of the Dipper and the Bull or to the Hall of Miraculous Mist, but straight up to the Tushita Palace in the Lihen Heaven above the Thirty−third Heaven to see the Supreme Lord Lao Zi. I'll ask him for one of his Nine−cycle Soul−returning Pills and that, I guarantee, will bring him back to life."

"Off you go then," said Sanzang, delighted to hear this, "and be as quick as you can."

"It's the third watch now; it'll be after dawn by the time I get back," said Brother Monkey. "But it's an awful shame to see that king lying there dead and cold. There ought to be a mourner watching over him and weeping."

"Don't tell me," said Pig, "that ape wants me to be the mourner."

"You most certainly will be," said Monkey. "If you don't weep for him I won't be able to bring him back to life."

"You go, brother," said Pig, "and leave the crying to me."

"There's more than one way of crying," said Monkey. "Just yelling with your mouth is what they call wailing. Squeezing some tears out is weeping. What we need is sobbing and tears together, and sobbing as though your heart is broken, for really proper weeping and wailing."

"Shall I give you a demonstration?" asked Pig. He tore a strip of paper from somewhere, twisted it into a spill, and pushed it up his nose twice, which made him sneeze several times. Just watch as the tears come streaming down and his nose runs as he starts to wail. He sobbed and sobbed uncontrollably, talking all sorts of nonsense as if someone really had just died.

It was so distressing a performance that the Tang Priest started to cry, so upset was he. "That's just the sort of grief I want," laughed Monkey, "and you're not to stop crying. It was you who tricked the master into sending me off, you idiot, and I'll hear if you stop wailing. Carry on like this and you'll be fine; but if you stop for even a few moments I'll give you twenty blows of my cudgel on your ankles."

"Off you go," laughed Pig. "Once I get crying like this I can keep it up for a couple of days." Hearing all this fuss and bother, Friar Sand fetched some incense sticks and lit them as an offering.