Tripitaka mounted his horse, while Bajie shouldered the luggage. The Monk Sha took hold of the reins, and Wukong led the way down the mountain, his indestructible iron bar resting across his shoulders.
They rested by streams and dined beneath the open sky, frost blanketed them at night and morning dew soaked their robes at dawn. They traveled a long and arduous road until once again a towering mountain rose before them, blocking their path.
The Tang Monk raised his voice and addressed his disciples:
“Have you noticed how high and rugged this mountain is? I fear we must be especially cautious, for I have no doubt that entire herds of monsters dwell here, eager to make an end of us.”
The Monkey King reassured him:
“Forget such thoughts. Do not give in to panic, nor let your mind wander down the crooked paths of fear. Be certain—nothing shall happen to you.”
With resolve, the Monkey King slung his iron rod over his shoulder and strode straight up the mountainside, followed closely by the Tang Monk.
Twilight Refuge
As they marveled at the beauty of the scenery, the sun slowly disappeared behind the western horizon.
The Master kept gazing about when, rounding a bend on the mountain, he spotted a cluster of multi-storied buildings. Hopeful, he turned to his disciples:
“Our fortune is better than we imagined. Night is falling, and before us rises an unexpected shelter. Unless I am much mistaken, those buildings ahead must be either a Taoist temple or a Buddhist monastery. I believe we should rest here tonight and continue our journey tomorrow. I only hope they will not refuse us lodging.”
Wukong replied:
“Your plan is excellent. Still, we must not rush. It would be wise to first confirm whether this place is truly safe.”
No sooner had he spoken than the Monkey King leapt into the air. After a careful reconnaissance, he concluded that it was indeed a Buddhist monastery.
The Master urged the horse forward and quickly approached the main gate.
There, above the entrance, were several large and striking characters: “Sacred Grove Monastery, Erected by Imperial Decree.”
Seeking Shelter
Wukong asked the Master:
“Who do you wish to go in and request lodging?”
Tripitaka answered:
“I shall go myself. I fear your appearance may seem rather repulsive, your manner of speech too disrespectful, and your gestures overly arrogant. If the monks feel in any way offended, they may refuse us shelter, and all our efforts will have been in vain.”
The Monkey King suggested:
“In that case, go in at once. There’s no need to waste more words.”
The Tang Monk adjusted his robes as best he could and passed through the main gate with his hands respectfully folded.
No sooner had he passed through the second gate than a servant emerged from the third, hastened toward the Tang Monk, and after bowing respectfully, asked:
“May I ask where you are from?”
Tripitaka replied:
“I come from the Eastern Lands, and I travel westward toward the Western Paradise to seek the sacred sutras, by the express command of the Great Emperor of the Tang. As night began to fall during my journey through these honorable lands, I came to this holy place to humbly beg for permission to spend the night.”
The servant pleaded:
“Please do not take offense at my words, but I cannot bear the responsibility of granting your request. I am but a humble servant tasked only with sweeping floors and ringing the bell. The guardian of this monastery is an elder who resides within. If you permit me, I shall go immediately to consult him. Should he agree to your request, I will return at once to inform you. Otherwise, I fear you may have to seek another place for the night.”
Tripitaka responded:
“I apologize for causing you so much trouble.”
The Abbot’s Contempt
When the abbot, a stern old monk, saw Tripitaka, he grew furious and scolded the servant:
“You deserve to be beaten! Don’t you yet understand that a monk of my standing greets only wealthy gentlemen who come from the city to offer incense? I lift not a finger for ragged monks like this one. How could you possibly think he was someone important? Just look at his face—it’s clear he is no respectable man, but one of those despicable beggars who, as soon as night falls, come knocking at the nearest door asking for shelter. I will not allow him to cross this threshold. If he wishes to sleep, let him find comfort as best he can in one of the corridors. Why should I even bother speaking to him?”
With that, he turned and immediately withdrew to his quarters.
Overhearing these words, tears quickly welled in the Tang Monk’s eyes. He murmured to himself:
“How pitiful! No wonder the saying goes: Wanderers worth less than dust. Since my earliest years, I renounced family life to become a monk. I must have committed some grave offense against Heaven and Earth in a past life to now meet only people without compassion or conscience. If you do not wish to grant me lodging, you are well within your right. But why speak such cruel words—that I am only fit to sleep in the corridors? As the proverb says: A man must above all uphold propriety and decorum. I believe the best course is to enter once more and humbly beg him to allow us to stay beneath his roof for just one night.”
Following close behind, the Tang Sanzang arrived at the very door of the abbot’s chambers. Yet despite everything, he dared not disturb him directly. Instead of barging in, he chose to wait outside, calling out respectfully:
“Never has such an honor been mine as to greet you today.”
Though annoyed that Tripitaka had followed him, the abbot had no choice but to swallow his pride and feign a polite response. He turned and asked:
“From where do you come?”
The Tang Monk replied:
“I come from the Eastern Lands. By the express command of the Great Emperor of the Tang, I travel westward in search of the Living Buddha’s scriptures. Passing through these honored lands, night began to fall, and I thought it fitting to come and request lodging. My intention is to resume my journey as soon as dawn breaks. Most honorable Abbot, I humbly beg you to grant me this small favor.”
“So—you are Tripitaka Tang?” the abbot asked again, rising from his seat.
“I am,” admitted Tripitaka.
A Heartbreaking Rejection
The abbot insisted:
“My advice is that you return at once to the main road. There is an inn located four or five kilometers to the west of here, where you may rest and dine. It would be far more suitable for you to stay there.”
Tripitaka replied, his hands still respectfully joined:
“The ancients often said: Taoist temples and Buddhist monasteries are the homes of all monks who arrive at their gates, and every monk deserves a little food by virtue of being one. Why then do you persist in refusing me your hospitality?”
The abbot responded:
“A few years ago, a group of wandering monks unexpectedly arrived at this monastery. They sat before the main gate, and seeing how poor they were—completely shaven heads, barefoot, half-dressed—I felt pity. I invited them in at once, seated them in places of honor, fed them as much as they wished, gave them new robes, and begged them to stay until they regained their strength. Little did I imagine their greed was so great that instead of staying a few days, they remained for eight whole years. Worse still, they indulged in all sorts of reckless behavior and disgraceful conduct.”
Tripitaka’s voice trembled:
“Even the lowliest monk deserves compassion. Must you scorn us?”
The abbot retorted:
“Your kind brings only trouble. Go to the inn west of here!”
Saddened, Tripitaka murmured to himself:
“What a pity that this man thinks me as heartless as they were.”
Silently wiping away tears with his robe, he hurried back to rejoin his disciples.
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