Part 7

So all was ready and Sun Hou got in; before getting in he repeated a charm to the dragon, who came and changed him into a nail and kept the oil in the bottom of the kettle cold while it boiled on top. After two hours Minister Sheep said, “He is dead,” and getting a skimmer he felt around and brought out a nail, which changed to a man, saying, “Ah, I was asleep; having such a good rest. Now it is your turn and I shall not sleep any more.” Thus the Minister Sheep was obliged to get in. Then Sun Hou called the king and said to him, “Look at your great ministers; how can you expect the country to grow and improve when your three greatest ministers are such demons? See what frauds they are, and how they impose on you and the people.”

To this the king replied, “I see you are great men and wonderful. You cannot go yet; it is a famine year and you must call down rain for us.”

Sun Hou said, “I will go to Heaven and plead with the great Lord of the Heaven (Yü Wang).”

With a jump he was in Heaven; to his petition the great God said, “There is no rain for Thibet for three years.” After much pleading from Sun Hou the God replied, “I will give you two inches only.”

When the king heard this he said, “That is not enough, I must have more. If you can get two inches you can get more, and then I will let you go.” So Sun Hou said, “I will get you two feet.”

“That is too much,” replied the king, “but a little more than we need is no great matter, only get it.” When Sun Hou told the great God of Rain, he said, “I will not let them say how much I am to give, I will give enough.”

When Sun Hou took this message to the king he thanked them and let them go on their way, promising to entertain them on their return.

They went on their journey; the monk, T’ang Sung, riding the white horse, the priest praying and reading. At night they came to the foot of a high mountain where there was a temple where lived a demon. This temple was called the “Temple of Thunder.” Sun Hou told the priest he did not think the temple was safe, but the priest said it must be because it was a temple, and he was sure they would find rest and food. When they saw the name of the temple they knocked their heads and went slowly forward until they saw what seemed a great image of Buddha. When Sun Hou came close to it he said, “That is not the Buddha,” and refused to knock his head. Just then a voice said, “Why do you not knock your head?” to which Sun Hou replied, “I do not think you look like Buddha.” Immediately they heard a bell strike and something was let down from above and enveloped them in darkness. Sun Hou felt of it; it was hard like copper. They walked all around it but could not get out. They exerted all their combined strength but could not remove the darkness. Then Sun Hou repeated his wonderful charm and twenty-eight soldiers from the great lord of the Heaven suddenly came in the shape of a great cow. Sun Hou called to him to make a hole with his horn; this he did, but when he pulled out his horn the hole closed up; again he did it, and Sun Hou changed into a mustard seed and was pulled out by the cow. Then he let the soldiers out of the iron cow—and the great demon got a great string and bound them and put them in a cave. Sun Hou gradually grew smaller and his rope loosened and he escaped; with one jump he reached Heaven and brought down many soldiers from the great God. When the great demon saw them he said, “I am not afraid of you, even if you are from Heaven. I will yet eat you.”

Among the Heavenly Soldiers was one very great one, and he wore a wheel of iron on one foot and a wheel of wind on the other; on his wrist was a beautiful bracelet and he wore a Heavenly chain. A terrible battle was fought in the air between the soldiers of the demons and the Heavenly band. The great demon threw up his charmed lasso and brought down the bracelet, and again, and brought down the chain. Then Sun Hou saw him lasso all the Heavenly Soldiers, and just as the string was to envelope him he gave a jump and turned a somersault—and landed on top of a mountain. There he gave himself up to despair in a cave. Along came a man who asked why he was crying and he said, “I promised to take a monk to India and to protect him. He and his companions are bound and in a cave. I got twenty-eight servants from the great God, they are also bound; and now all the Heavenly Soldiers have been defeated and are bound.”

“You are too impatient,” replied the man. “Do you not remember that a great iron beam can be rubbed to a fine needle if you but take time? You go to the demons who live in these caves in the mountains, and find out what kind of a demon this is.”

Sun Hou went to them all and at last found one who said he knew the demon of the Thunder temple. He had one time been his servant but had stolen his treasure and run away. “You can only take him by craft and I will help you. He is most fond of melons, and we will plant some melons and test him. I will be the gardener and you go and call him out.”

Then Sun Hou went out and reviled the demon and he came out in great anger; Sun Hou changed into a fine melon and the demon, seeing him, ate him. Sun Hou said, “Now I will tear your heart out of you.” In his great distress the demon pleaded so hard that Sun Hou came out by the demon’s ear and together they fought all over the melon patch in the moonlight. After the battle, worn and weary, Sun Hou liberated the soldiers and his companions, and then looking about him saw there was no mountain, no temple, but a fine restful road with eating-houses and rest-houses on the way.

“Ah, monk,” said he, “so it ever is with earth’s power and glory. It is all vanity—vanity—empty—empty.”

In restful travel they reached their journey’s end and found the book. On their return journey they had many adventures, but they had all grown wiser and learned much. When they reached the bank of the river the turtle was there waiting to carry them across. They got on his back and when half-way over he asked if they had found the “Book” and seen the “great Buddha.” “Yes,” they said. Then the turtle asked them if they had remembered his request, and when they said they had forgotten it, the turtle was so angry he dropped down from under them and left them in the water. They had a terrible time getting to the other side, and as the book was paper all they could rescue of it were the words, “Ah-me t’on Fo,” and this they told the Emperor was all there was to the Classic.

A STORY OF OLD CHINA

In the reign of Chia Ching, Emperor of China from 1522 to 1537 A.D., there lived in Peking a powerful official by the name of Tu (“Du”). Unknown to him he had a great enemy whose daughter was one of the wives of the Emperor and who was himself the teacher of the Emperor. This man, Yen Sung, was the most powerful man in the Empire at that time, and also one of the most unscrupulous. He made and unmade officials and no appointment could be secured except through his influence. He was very rich, and lived in one of the largest and finest palaces. His entertainments were second only to the Emperor’s.

Mr. Tu was appointed to superintend the distribution of famine relief in the province of Shan Tung. The silver was inclosed in logs, and loaded on long carts. The caravan had just reached the city gate when they were met by Yen Sung and his riders, just returning from a feast. He inquired of Mr. Tu when he was going, and on learning that the relief caravan was just starting, he said:

“It is too late for you to go to-night; come to my palace, all of you, carts and all, and spend the night. We will have a big feast, and you can get an early start in the morning.”

There seemed no harm in this, and as no one liked to refuse Yen Sung anything, they decided to accept his invitation.

That night after the great feast was over and, much under the influence of wine, all were sleeping, Yen Sung, with his steward and henchmen, removed the relief money from the logs, placed broken bricks in the holes, and closed the logs as they were before.

Early in the morning the caravan started, and when but a short distance from the city they were overtaken by Yen Sung and his servants, who inquired how much silver was being taken, also made the demand to see it. Mr. Tu said that he had in his charge forty thousand pieces of silver; and caused the logs to be opened as proof, only to find to his dismay the silver gone and brick in its place. Yen Sung immediately seized him, took him before the Emperor, accused him of using the funds, and punishment by death was pronounced. A few days later he was secretly beheaded and his body was placed in a temple near one of the city gates.

Mr. Tu had a son, who was married to the daughter of a well-known official who, on the murder of the father-in-law of his daughter, came forward and saved the family from the murderous hands of Yen Sung. The Emperor punished the family by changing their name to Kao and this son was called Kao Ching Chi. He was a student by nature, and on the death of his father and the confiscation of his property, spent all of his time at the “Hall of Classics,” studying for promotion.

His young wife, Yü Yüch Ying, was very beautiful, according to tradition in song and story one of the most beautiful in all the Empire; not only noted for her beauty of face and form, but even more beautiful character. (The story of her life, set in song and always sung in tears, praises her in words seldom given to any woman.)

One day after the death of her father-in-law she took a serving-woman with her, and went in her chair to weep at his grave, and burn incense for his departed spirit. On the road her chair passed Nien Chi, the wicked steward of Yen Sung, who was out with some of his companions for a ride. He caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman inside, and said to his companions:

“Come on; we will follow her and see who she is and where she is going.”

When they reached the temple he saw her at the altar, prostrating herself and worshipping; kneeling beside her he said:

“I too have come for worship.”

Yü Yüch Ying immediately rose and went to the grave of her father-in-law, followed by the servant. Together they wept and knocked their heads, but only to be joined almost at once by Nien Chi. They moved to the other side of the grave, and again he followed, upon which she said to her woman:

“This man means to annoy us; he is an evil man.”

The serving-woman turned on him and said:

“You are annoying my lady, you certainly lack all marks of the superior man,” and with that she threw a handful of incense ashes in his eyes, and taking her lady by the hand, they ran to the chair and told the chairmen to go home at once as fast as possible.

Nien Chi was very angry, his eyes pained him furiously, and as soon as he could open them with any comfort he called to his friend:

“Mount at once and give chase.”

Some of his companions did not want to, but he insisted and, owing to this delay and the ashes in his eyes, they did not overtake the chair till just as it entered the gate of the ladies’ home.

The gatekeeper closed the gate and did not notice the horsemen just entering their street. Nien Chi inquired of a “street keeper” who lived in the place, and great was his delight when he heard that it was the family hated by his master. He sought the latter on returning home, told of his morning’s experience, of the beauty of the lady, and his desire to secure her if possible.

Yen Sung was greatly pleased, and soon a way was opened to degrade the official who had saved his enemy’s family. He said to his steward, “This is well; you shall have her for wife, and I will help you and thus reward your many efforts in my behalf.” Together these two black-hearted men plotted against the life and happiness of the one little woman, who did not tell her student-husband of the experiences of the day, as she did not like to trouble him when his heart was so sad.

A few days later a servant of Nien Chi’s came with a letter and some very beautiful presents. The servant said “his master had heard much of the wisdom of young Mr. Kao; he was most desirous of calling on him, making his acquaintance, and would he please accept the small, insignificant gifts as an expression of friendship.” Mr. Kao inquired who his master was, and when he learned it was the steward of the great Yen Sung, who was almost as powerful as the Emperor, and at whose word a man was made an official or deposed, he was greatly troubled, but he did not dare refuse. A day was set when Nien Chi was to call, and he came in great pomp and glory, and was invited to the guest house, where Mr. Kao received him.

Together they talked on the surface of many questions, Nien Chi, in a most subtle manner, praising the wisdom and great insight of his host. Much wine was consumed, especially by Mr. Kao.

The latter part of the call Nien Chi said, “Shall we not seal our friendship by the rite of blood brother? You are older than I, so according to our custom it would be proper for you to introduce me to your wife, my sister, if indeed you will stoop to accept so stupid a man as a brother.”

To this Mr. Kao replied, “The lady, your sister, is in the inner court with her women, another day you may meet her.”

Nien Chi urged Mr. Kao to introduce him that day, but the latter changed the subject of conversation, and then Nien Chi proposed that they should see who could take the most wine.

Alas! Mr. Kao did not dream of his plan, and very soon was fast asleep; seeing this, Nien Chi went to the family court in the rear and seeing her with her women, he said:

“Most beautiful of great sisters, I salute you.”

Yü Yüch Ying immediately arose, and seeing the man who had troubled her so, there in her own court, she said:

“Who are you, and how do you dare to come into this inner court?” and then turning to a servant, she said, “Call your master.”

Nien Chi smiled and said, “Don’t be anxious, lady, your husband is my good brother by rite of blood. We have drank the wine and made the compact and that, you know, as he is older than I, gives me a right to meet you and call you ‘sister.’ My great brother is now asleep. He is a poor, stupid man who cannot let wine alone. Now, most beautiful and virtuous of all women, leave him to his books and marry me. You shall have, by promise of my master, the great Yen Sung, the finest of the land, in robes of silk and satin, servants by tens, jewels fit for an empress, and a most royal home.”

In great fear and rage the lady spurned him, and called to her women to bring her husband, asleep or awake.

The loud voices had awakened him, and when the women met him, telling of the fright of their lady, he picked up a stick and, entering the court, demanded how he had dared enter there.

Yü Yüch Ying said to him, “How did you dare enter friendship’s bonds with such as he? Take him from my court and presence at once. He is more hateful to me than a serpent.”

Nien Chi saw his plan had failed and, with rage and vowing vengeance, he took his departure and once again sought his master.

That night a slave in the home was bound and killed and taken in the early morning and placed against the gate of Mr. Kao’s house. Mr. Kao always went early to the “Hall of the Classics,” and that morning when he opened the gate the dead body fell into Kao’s court; Nien Chi and soldiers were waiting just around the corner for this moment, and immediately, before Mr. Kao had taken in the situation, they had seized him and thrown him into prison, on charge of killing one of the great Sung’s servants. He was tried and condemned to death.

The beautiful Yü Yüch Ying saw through the plan and disposed of the place at once for a small sum of money and, taking one loyal, good serving-woman, she sought her father.

Everything was done that could be done to save her husband; her father had lost much of his property and standing, and could help but little.

It seemed as though nothing could be done to save him when, at the last moment, a “great day of forgiveness” was announced on the birth of an heir to the throne. This did not mean freedom, but instead of death came banishment for life to some other and distant province.

The news was made known to the wife by a Mr. Wang, an old-time friend of the family, and he arranged with her a plan by which she might have a parting visit with her husband; this was to be in a cemetery just out of Peking and off a little from the great road over which his cart was to go. She had not been allowed to see him in prison, though she had used every means possible.

When the day set to take him away came, she went with her woman to the place arranged, and then waited, with sad and heavy heart, for the cart which was to bring her husband for a short talk and then take him away from her forever. When Mr. Wang told Mr. Kao of the plan, he said, “She won’t come; a woman is like a garment that one can take off at pleasure and it is all the same to them.”

Little he knew the true-hearted woman, or how she would prove her fidelity, that would hand her name down to all coming wives as the pattern of all that is most truly virtuous.

When the cart reached the place, by the use of a little money Mr. Wang arranged with the carter and escort soldiers to allow Mr. Kao to get out of the cart and have this quiet last talk with his wife.

Much to his surprise, Mr. Kao found his wife waiting for him. She came forward and, kneeling before him, she said, “We are about to separate, possibly forever; what commands have you for me? I will follow them to the letter.”

“I have no commands,” replied her husband. “Our affairs have reached this state: we can do nothing and be nothing to each other. I am banished for life; you cannot go with me, and I cannot help you. There is no use in our talking. You will forget me. Our fate is unlucky, the gods and man are against us.”

With tears streaming from her eyes, and her beautiful face full of trouble, she said, “Alas! alas! You do not believe in and trust me, that I will be true to you. What can I do to prove to you that I mean what I say? You say I am beautiful; the gods have made me so. Because I am so you think that fair promises of wealth and luxury will buy me. If I were homely no one would want me; see, this I do to show how true is my heart to you,” and before he saw what she was about she took some scissors from her sleeve and dug out one of her beautiful eyes, and then, raising her poor disfigured face to his, she said, as she tried to smile, “Do you believe me, is it not proof enough? Would anybody want me now?”

Her husband was greatly moved and, as he tried to stop the flow of blood, said, “You are a daughter of the gods, the most true of all women.”

They then talked over their sorrows, and she said, “If in a few months’ time the gods give us a son, what is your wish to name him? If a little daughter comes, name her also and your wishes.”

“I have no wishes or commands, you are able to instruct and have wisdom for all. If the gods give us a son, call him Ting Lang.”

The wife said, “Alas! I may not follow you into exile, I shall go to my old home, but if the child is a son, when he is old enough I shall send him to you.”

Then she took from her sleeve a small mirror, a comb, and a handkerchief. These she divided into two parts, gave one part to her husband, and placed the other in her inner pocket.

“When a boy finds you, producing these, you will know who he is, and wherever you are you must own him.”

With this and many tears they embraced each other, then with much weeping she knelt before him, and touching her head to the ground three times, she said her good-bye.

Her husband raised her and gave her into the command of the serving-woman, with many words of instruction to the latter, who was in great distress at the condition of her mistress’s eye. He told her what medicine to get, and how to care for it, and made her promise to stay with her lady as long as she lived. And then the friend came and promised the wife to stay by her husband to the end of the journey and care for him, and urged her to go home as it was late and the cart must be starting.