“What remedy will you prescribe now that you have accurately diagnosed his illness?” asked the imperial physician.
The Unorthodox Prescription
The Monkey King replied:
“No written recipe. Just gather every medicine in the city.”
The imperial physician protested:
“And what do you need them for? According to the medical classics, there are eight hundred and eight types of medicine to treat the four hundred and four kinds of illnesses a human being may suffer. Clearly, one person cannot possibly use them all at once.”
The Monkey King retorted:
“The ancients also said that medicine is not effective merely because it appears in a formula, and that it should be used according to one’s own judgment. That’s precisely what I’m doing—using a little of this, a little of that, and a bit of something else.”
The imperial physician dared not argue further. Leaving the palace, he ordered his subordinates to visit every pharmacy in the city and purchase three kilograms each of all available medicines, both raw and processed. This enormous quantity of remedies was to be delivered to the Monkey King without delay.
The Monkey King said:
“I’m afraid this is not the best place to mix the ingredients. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to bring everything, along with the necessary tools, to the Pavilion of Foreign Envoys. My brothers will take care of the rest.”
Meanwhile, Sun Wukong returned to the imperial palace to ask the Master to return with him to the pavilion to help prepare the medicine.
Hardly had he risen from his seat when an imperial order arrived, requesting the Master of the Law to stay overnight in the Pavilion of Culture. The document also stated that once His Majesty had taken the medicine and recovered his health, they would all be generously rewarded and issued with their travel permit, allowing them to continue their journey peacefully.
Upon reading it, Tripitaka exclaimed anxiously:
“What shall we do? This means he is taking me hostage. If he recovers, he’ll let us go with honors; but if his health does not improve, he will drag me down with him. Take every precaution and prepare an effective medicine. Otherwise, you know well what awaits me.”
Wukong advised with a smile:
“Do not worry. Enjoy yourself as much as you can. I assure you I have the power to pull the king back from the jaws of illness.”
A Pharmacist’s Farce
After bidding farewell to Tripitaka and the other officials, Wukong went directly to the mansion of the foreign dignitaries. Upon seeing him, Bajie exclaimed with a smile:
“Now I really understand you!”
“What do you mean by that?” Wukong asked.
Bajie replied:
“You’ve realized just in time that this quest for scriptures leads nowhere, and seeing how prosperous this region is, you’ve decided to open a pharmacy. Not a bad plan, considering you have absolutely no money to start a business.”
Wukong reprimanded him:
“Stop talking nonsense, please! Once we’ve cured the king, I’ll gladly leave this city and hit the road again. What made you think I’m determined to open a pharmacy?”
Bajie countered:
“Then why do you want all these medicines? No one simply buys three kilograms each of eight hundred and eight different kinds. You’ve had a total of two thousand four hundred and twenty-four kilograms brought here! Don’t tell me you actually need so much to cure a single person! It would take years for him to consume all of it!”
Sun Wukong exclaimed, amused:
“Do you really believe I need so many medicines? Its just a ruse to baffle those pompous doctors. I don’t want them to discover what I’ve used or how much medicine I’ve applied.”
It was nearly midnight, the streets were empty, and peace and tranquility filled the air.
Bajie asked Wukong:
“Would you mind telling us what kind of medicine you’re planning to make? I swear, if you wait any longer, I’ll fall asleep.”
“Take one tael of Da-huang (rhubarb) and grind it into powder,” Wukong ordered.
Sha Monk commented:
“Da-huang has a bitter taste and a cold nature; it might even be slightly toxic. Considering its laxative properties, I think you shouldn’t use it to treat His Majesty, especially since a long illness like his must have already severely weakened his body.”
Wukong replied with a smile:
“You forget one thing. This remedy will clear his respiratory passages and allow him to cough up phlegm more easily. Not to mention that it will dispel the accumulated cold and heat in his stomach. Calm yourself. I know exactly what I’m doing. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could bring me another tael of Ba-dou (croton seed). After cracking the shell and peeling it, discard the oily part inside and grind it into powder.”
Bajie quickly interjected:
“Ba-dou has a pungent taste and a hot, toxic nature. It has softening properties that can expel internal cold from the most inaccessible parts of the body and dissolve blockages in the bodily fluids. Its medicinal effects are very strong. In my opinion, it shouldn’t be used lightly.”
Wukong replied, still smiling:
“You also seem not to realize that there’s no better medicine than this to relieve congestion and thoroughly cleanse the intestines. It has always been used to reduce chest swelling and ease abdominal inflammation. Do as I told you quickly and stop wasting time. To enhance the effect of the remedy, it must be mixed with something of a different flavor.”
Once they had completed the tasks assigned to them, they asked in unison:
“What dozens of medicinal ingredients do you still need to use?”
“None,” Wukong answered, contradicting himself from moments before.
Bajie repeated, astonished:
“How can it be none? There are over eight hundred types of medicine available, and you only plan to use one tael of two of them, while you have three kilograms of all the others? You must be joking.”
Wukong advised, holding up a small porcelain vial:
“It’s better if you don’t keep talking. Here—carefully scrape the bottom of the pan and fill half of this bottle with the soot it produces.”
“What do you need that for?” Bajie exclaimed.
“To make the medicine, of course,” Wukong replied.
“It seems like you’ve never seen medicine made from soot,” Sha Wujing mocked.
Wukong added:
“You may not know it, but this kind of soot is called ‘Frost of the Hundred Herbs’ and is capable of relieving more than a hundred ailments.”
After a while, Wukong turned to Bajie again:
“Now go and fill the other half of the vial with our horse’s urine.”
“What do you want that for?” Bajie asked once more.
“To finish making the pills,” Sun Wukong replied.
Sha Wujing burst into laughter:
“There’s simply no stopping you! Horse urine has a sharp, strong odor. How can you use it in medicine? Throughout my life, I’ve seen pills made from vinegar, fermented rice broth, diluted honey, and even plain water—but never from horse urine. It smells so bad that as soon as the patient smells it, his stomach won’t be able to handle it and he’ll vomit everything up. And if you add Ba-dou and Da-huang on top of that, be sure he’ll be coming apart from both ends like a piece of melting ice. I don’t find that amusing at all.”
Wukong replied:
“Our horse is no ordinary steed. You shouldn’t forget that, in reality, he is a dragon from the Western Ocean. If he urinates into that vial, be assured that no human illness will resist it.”
The magic pills
When everything was ready, they mixed the horse urine with the other ingredients. Then they made three pills, placed them in a small box.
Bajie eyed them warily. “If the king survives this, I’ll eat my rake.”
Wukong smirked. “Mark my words—tomorrow, he’ll rise hale.”
It was so late that they didn’t even bother to change clothes before falling asleep.
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