Journey to the West
When chaos slept, undivided, heaven and earth in turmoil,
Vast and dim, no eye beheld it.
Since Pangu shattered the primordial mist,
Clear and turbid parted at the opening.
All beings lean on supreme benevolence for shelter,
All things awakened turn toward goodness.
To know the craft of cosmic cycles,
Read the Journey to the West, the tale of suffering released.
It is said that the measure of heaven and earth counts one cosmic cycle as one hundred and twenty-nine thousand six hundred years. This cycle divides into twelve epochs, named by the earthly branches: Zi, Chou, Yin, Mao, Chen, Si, Wu, Wei, Shen, You, Xu, Hai. Each epoch spans ten thousand eight hundred years.
Consider a single day: at Zi hour, yang breath stirs; at Chou, roosters crow; Yin remains dark, but Mao brings sunrise; Chen follows the morning meal, Si presses close; noon stands at heaven's center, Wei slants west; Shen brings afternoon, sunset falls at You, Xu is twilight, and Hai settles humanity into rest.
Applied to the great count: when Xu epoch ends, heaven and earth dim and all beings cease. After another five thousand four hundred years, at Hai epoch's dawn, darkness reigns—nothing exists between the two realms. This is called Chaos.
After another five thousand four hundred years, as Hai nears its end, the seed of origin turns beneath, approaching Zi's epoch, and gradually light returns. As Shao Kangjie said: "At winter's solstice, half through Zi hour, heaven's heart unmoved. Where yang first stirs, all things unborn." Here, heaven takes root.
After another five thousand four hundred years, Zi epoch arrives in full: the light and clear rise upward—sun, moon, stars, and constellations appear. These four are called the Celestial Images. Thus: Heaven opened at Zi.
After another five thousand four hundred years, Zi epoch wanes, approaching Chou, and substance gradually solidifies. The Book of Changes says: "Great indeed is Qian's origin! Supreme indeed is Kun's origin! All things draw life from earth, which follows heaven." Here, earth begins to congeal.
After another five thousand four hundred years, Chou epoch arrives in full: the heavy and turbid settle downward—water, fire, mountains, stone, and soil emerge. These five are called the Five Elements. Thus: Earth opened at Chou.
After another five thousand four hundred years, Chou ends and Yin begins, spawning all living things. The calendar states: "Heavenly breath descends, earthly breath ascends; heaven and earth intertwine, all creatures arise." Here, heaven clears, earth refreshes, yin and yang unite.
After another five thousand four hundred years, Yin epoch arrives in full: humans are born, beasts are born, birds are born. Heaven, earth, and humanity—the Three Powers—take their stations. Thus: Humans born at Yin.
Moved by Pangu's opening, the Three Rulers' governance, the Five Emperors' establishment of order, the world divided into Four Great Continents: Eastern Victory Continent, Western Bull Continent, Southern Jambu Continent, and Northern Kurus Continent. This tale concerns only Eastern Victory Continent.
Beyond the seas lies a kingdom called Ao Lai. Near this kingdom, in the great ocean, stands a renowned mountain named Flower-Fruit Mountain. This peak is the ancestral vein of the Ten Continents, the dragon-pulse of the Three Islands, established since the clearing of chaos, formed after the primordial division.
Truly, a magnificent mountain! A song proves it:
Power dominates the ocean waves,
Majesty calms the jade seas.
Power dominates the ocean waves—
Tides surge like silver peaks, fish dive to caves.
Majesty calms the jade seas—
Waves churn snow-white, sea dragons rise from depths.
Water and fire pile high at the corner's edge,
East of the ocean, a towering summit.
Crimson cliffs, strange stones,
Sheer walls, singular peaks.
On crimson cliffs, twin phoenixes sing;
Before sheer walls, a qilin rests alone.
At the peak, golden pheasants call;
In stone grottoes, dragons come and go.
In the forest, longevity deer and spirit foxes dwell;
In the trees, divine birds and black cranes perch.
Jade grasses and rare flowers never fade,
Green pines and emerald cypresses stay ever-spring.
Immortal peaches always bear fruit,
Slender bamboo holds back the clouds.
A ravine winds dense with vines,
On all sides, fresh grass colors the dikes.
Truly, the pillar holding heaven where hundred rivers meet,
The earth-root unmoved through ten thousand kalpas.
At the mountain's summit stood a spiritual stone. Thirty-six feet five inches tall, it measured by the full circle of three hundred and sixty-five degrees. Twenty-four feet around, it aligned with the twenty-four solar terms. Nine apertures and eight holes pierced it, matching the Nine Palaces and Eight Trigrams. No trees shaded its four sides, but fragrant orchids flanked it left and right.
Since the world's opening, this stone had absorbed heaven's innocence and earth's beauty, the sun's essence and moon's radiance. After long absorption, spiritual awareness stirred within. It nurtured an immortal womb. One day, it burst open, releasing a stone egg, round as a ball. Exposed to wind, it transformed into a stone monkey—five senses complete, four limbs intact. Immediately he learned to crawl and walk, bowing to the four directions. From his eyes shot twin beams of golden light, piercing straight to the Palace of Polaris.
This startled the High Heaven's Holy One, the Greatly Compassionate Benevolent Ruler, the Jade Emperor of August Heaven, the Mysterious Vault Supreme Deity. Seated upon the Golden Throne Cloud Palace in the Lingxiao Treasure Hall, he gathered the immortal ministers. Seeing the blazing golden light, he commanded Thousand-Mile Eye and Wind-Following Ear to open the Southern Heaven Gate and observe.
The two generals received the decree, stepped beyond the gate, looked truly, listened clearly. Soon they returned and reported: "Your servant observed the source of the golden light: at the edge of Ao Lai, that small kingdom east of Eastern Victory Continent's seas, stands Flower-Fruit Mountain. Upon it, a spiritual stone gave birth to an egg; exposed to wind, it became a stone monkey. There he bows to the four directions, eyes shooting golden light, piercing to the Palace of Polaris. Now that he has consumed water and food, the golden light will soon fade."
The Jade Emperor bestowed grace downward: "A creature below, born of heaven and earth's essence—nothing strange in this."
That monkey roamed the mountain, walking, leaping, eating grasses and trees, drinking from mountain streams, gathering wildflowers, seeking tree-fruits. Wolves and insects were his companions, tigers and leopards his herd, deer his friends, macaques his kin. By night he slept beneath stone cliffs; by day he wandered peak-caves. Truly: "In the mountains, no calendar marks time; winter ends, yet the year remains unknown."
One day, heat blazed. The monkeys gathered to escape the sun, playing beneath pine shade. Look at them, each one:
Leaping trees, climbing branches, gathering flowers, seeking fruits;
Flicking pebbles, playing games;
Running sand pits, building treasure towers;
Chasing dragonflies, catching wax moths;
Bowing to Old Heaven, worshipping Bodhisattvas;
Pulling vines, weaving grass;
Catching lice, biting and pinching;
Grooming fur, trimming nails.
Pressing close, rubbing together;
Pushing, shoving;
Tugging, pulling:
Beneath green pines, let them play as they will;
Beside green waters, let them wash as they please.
After a while, the troop went to bathe in the mountain stream. They saw the water rushing wildly, truly like boiling melons splashing. An old saying goes: "Birds have bird-speech, beasts have beast-tongue."
All the monkeys said: "This water—who knows where it comes from? Today we're idle. Let's follow the stream upward, find its source, and have some fun!"
With a shout, they dragged sons and daughters, called brothers and sisters, all running together, climbing the stream's slope until they reached the source: a waterfall, a flying spring. Behold it:
A white rainbow rises,
A thousand fathoms of snow-waves fly.
Sea wind cannot break it,
River moonlight still clings.
Cold breath divides the green peaks,
Remaining flow nourishes emerald heights.
Gurgling—what a waterfall!
Truly like a curtain hung.
The monkeys clapped and praised: "Fine water! Fine water! So this reaches far below the mountain's foot, connecting directly to the great ocean's waves!"
Then they said: "Whoever among us has the skill to leap through, find the source, and return without harm to his body—we will bow and make him our King!"
They shouted three times. Suddenly, from the thicket, a stone monkey leaped out, answering loudly: "I'll go in! I'll go in!"
Good monkey! Truly:
Today his fragrant name shines forth,
Fortune's hour arrives, destiny opens.
By fate he dwells in this place,
The King sends him into the immortal palace.
He closed his eyes, crouched his body, leaped straight into the waterfall spring. Opening his eyes, he raised his head to look: inside, no water, no waves—clearly and brightly stood a bridge. He steadied himself, settled his spirit, looked more carefully: truly an iron-plank bridge. Below, water rushed through stone apertures, hanging inverted and flowing outward, veiling the bridge entrance.
He stepped onto the bridgehead, walked further, looked again: truly like a dwelling place—what a fine location! Behold it:
Green moss piles blue,
White clouds float like jade,
Light shakes smoke and mist.
Empty windows, quiet chambers,
Smooth benches, planks flowering.
In milky grottoes, dragon-pearls hang;
Winding paths, rare flowers cover the ground.
Stoves and pots cling to cliffs, fire-traces remain;
Wine vessels lean on tables, food scraps visible.
Stone seats, stone beds—truly endearing;
Stone basins, stone bowls—even more praiseworthy.
And see: one or two stalks of slender bamboo,
Three or five dots of plum blossoms.
Several green pines always dripping rain,
Wholly like a human household.
After long looking, he leaped to the bridge's center, gazing left and right. In the exact middle stood a stone tablet. Upon it, a line of regular-script characters carved in large letters: "Flower-Fruit Mountain, Land of Blessing; Water-Curtain Cave, Cave of Heaven."
The stone ape's joy knew no bounds. He hurried, turned his body, walked outward, closed his eyes, crouched, leaped from the water, and let out two laughs: "Great fortune! Great fortune!"
The monkeys surrounded him, asking: "What's inside? How deep is the water?"
The stone monkey said: "No water! No water! There's an iron-plank bridge; beyond it lies a home set by heaven and earth!"
The monkeys asked: "How do we know it's a proper home?"
The stone monkey laughed: "That water flows beneath the bridge, rushing through the stone span, hanging inverted to veil the doorway. Beside the bridge are flowers and trees—truly a stone house. Inside: stone nests, stone stoves, stone bowls, stone basins, stone beds, stone benches. In the center, a stone tablet carved: 'Flower-Fruit Mountain, Land of Blessing; Water-Curtain Cave, Cave of Heaven.' Truly our place to settle! Inside is spacious enough for hundreds and thousands of us, old and young. Let's all move in—no more suffering heaven's whims! Inside here:
When wind blows, there's shelter;
When rain falls, we preserve our bodies.
Frost and snow—we fear nothing;
Thunder's roar—never heard.
Mist and clouds always shine;
Auspicious signs constantly steam.
Pines and bamboo flourish yearly;
Rare flowers renew daily."
The monkeys heard, each one joyful. All said: "You go first! Lead us in! Lead us in!"
The stone monkey closed his eyes again, crouched, leaped inside, and called: "All follow me in! Come in!"
Those with courage leaped in; the timid stretched necks, shrank heads, scratched ears, rubbed cheeks, shouting loudly. After some coaxing, they all entered. Leaping over the bridgehead, each one snatched basins, grabbed bowls, occupied stoves, fought for beds, moving things here and there—truly monkey nature, wild and mischievous, never a moment of peace, until exhaustion stopped them.
The stone ape sat upright above them and said: "Gentlemen, as the saying goes: 'A person without trust—who knows what good they are?' Just now you said: whoever enters and exits without harm to their body, you would bow and make him King. I have now entered and exited, exited and entered, found this cave-heaven for you all to sleep in peace, each enjoying the fortune of a settled home. Why not bow to me as King?"
The monkeys heard, immediately bowed without objection, arranged themselves by age in rows, bowed upward, all calling: "Long live the Thousand-Year King!"
From this day, the stone ape ascended the throne, hid the word "stone," and took the title: the Handsome Monkey King.
A poem proves it:
Three yangs unite, spawning all life,
The immortal stone's womb holds sun and moon's essence.
Borrowing the egg, the monkey completes the Great Dao;
Using another's name, he matches the cinnabar's forming.
Inward sight knows no cause—therefore no form;
Outward union knows brightness—therefore shaped being.
Through all ages, all humans belong to this;
Called King, called Sage, they roam as they please.
The Handsome Monkey King led a troop of gibbons, macaques, horse-monkeys, and more, assigning ministers and attendants. By day they roamed Flower-Fruit Mountain; by night they slept in Water-Curtain Cave. In perfect accord, shared feeling, they joined no bird-flocks, followed no beast-herds—alone as King, joy beyond measure. Thus:
Spring: gathers hundred flowers for food and drink;
Summer: seeks all fruits for livelihood;
Autumn: harvests taro and chestnuts to extend the season;
Winter: finds yellow essence to pass the years.
The Handsome Monkey King enjoyed heaven's innocence for three hundred years, perhaps five hundred. One day, during a joyful feast with the troop, suddenly sorrow struck him; tears fell.
The monkeys hurriedly bowed: "Great King, why this trouble?"
The Monkey King said: "Though I rejoice now, one distant worry gnaws—therefore this sorrow."
The monkeys laughed again: "Great King, you know no contentment! Day by day we gather in joy, in this immortal mountain, land of blessing, ancient cave, divine continent. We bow to no qilin's rule, fear no phoenix's command, bound by no human throne—free and easy, fortune beyond measure. Why this distant worry, this grief?"
The Monkey King said: "Today, though I stand outside human kings' laws, fear no beast's might, yet when age comes and blood decays, secretly the Lord of the Underworld governs us. Once death takes us, are we not born in vain into the world, unable to dwell long among the heavenly beings?"
The monkeys heard these words, each covering his face, weeping in sorrow—all troubled by impermanence.
Suddenly, from the ranks, a gibbon leaped out, voice sharp and loud: "If the Great King worries thus, truly this is called 'the Dao-heart awakened.' Now, among the five classes of creatures, only three types do not bow to the Lord of the Underworld's rule."
The Monkey King asked: "Which three?"
The gibbon said: "Buddhas, Immortals, and Sages—these three escape reincarnation, neither born nor destroyed, longevity equal to heaven and earth, mountains and rivers."
The Monkey King asked: "Where do these three dwell?"
The gibbon said: "Only within the Jambu world, inside ancient caves and immortal mountains."
The Monkey King heard, heart full of joy: "Tomorrow I will bid you farewell, descend the mountain, wander to the sea's corners, journey to the world's edge. I must seek these three, learn the art of ageless longevity, forever escape the Underworld Lord's calamity."
Ah! This single sentence taught him to leap from reincarnation's net, causing the Great Sage Equal to Heaven to arise.
The monkeys clapped and praised, all saying: "Excellent! Excellent! Tomorrow we will cross ridges, climb peaks, gather wide stores of fruit, prepare a great feast to send off the Great King!"
The next day, the monkeys truly went to gather immortal peaches, pluck rare fruits, dig mountain yams, unearth yellow essence. Fragrant orchids, aromatic herbs, jade grasses, rare flowers—every kind, neatly arranged upon stone benches and tables, immortal wine and immortal dishes set in order. Behold it:
Golden pellets, pearl orbs, red bursting, yellow plump.
Golden pellets, pearl orbs—winter cherries, color truly sweet and fine;
Red bursting, yellow plump—ripe plums, flavor fragrant and tart.
Fresh longans—flesh sweet, skin thin;
Fiery lychees—pits small, pouches red.
Crabapples with green fruit offered on branches;
Loquats with tawny buds held up with leaves.
Rabbit-head pears, chicken-heart dates—quench thirst, dispel vexation, dissolve drunkenness.
Fragrant peaches, rotten-sweet apricots—delicious as jade nectar;
Crisp plums, bayberries—sour-shaded like cream and curd.
Red-pouched, black-seeded ripe watermelons;
Four-petaled, yellow-skinned great persimmons.
Pomegranates split—cinnabar grains reveal fire-crystal beads;
Taro and chestnuts cut open—hard flesh like golden agate.
Walnuts and ginkgoes fit for tea;
Coconuts and grapes make wine.
Hazelnuts, pines, torreya, and natrons fill the plates;
Tangerines, sugarcane, mandarins, and oranges crowd the tables.
Slow-braised mountain yams, soft-boiled yellow essence.
Crushed poria and coix seeds, stone pots over low fire simmer soup.
Though the human world has rare delicacies,
How can they match the mountain monkeys' joy and peace?
The troop honored the Handsome Monkey King to the upper seat; each arranged by age and shoulder below. One by one they stepped forward, offering wine, offering flowers, offering fruit. They drank deeply the whole day.
The next morning, the Handsome Monkey King rose early and instructed: "Little ones, fold some withered pines, weave them into a raft. Take a bamboo pole for a punt. Gather some fruits and such—I depart."
Truly, alone he boarded the raft, strained hard against the pole, drifted and swayed, straight into the great ocean's waves. Riding the heavenly wind, he came to cross into Southern Jambu Continent's lands. This journey—truly:
Heaven-born immortal monkey, Dao-practice deep;
Leaving the mountain, steering raft on heavenly wind.
Crossing oceans, seeking the immortal Dao;
Setting his will, focusing his heart, building great merit.
With portion and fate, worldly wishes rest;
Without worry, without fear, he meets the Yuan-Dragon.
Surely he must meet one who knows his sound;
Speaking the source's flow, all methods penetrate.
By fortune's arrival and timing's ripeness: after boarding the wooden raft, for days the southeast wind blew hard, carrying him to the northwest shore—Southern Jambu Continent's lands. Testing the water with his pole, he found shallow water by chance, abandoned the raft, leaped ashore.
He saw people by the sea: catching fish, shooting geese, digging clams, harvesting salt. He approached, performed a trick, made a tiger-face, frightening those people so they dropped baskets and nets, scattering in all directions. He caught one who could not run, stripped his clothes, learned to wear them himself.
Swaying and rocking, he passed through provinces and prefectures. In the markets, he learned human rites, learned human speech. Morning meals, night lodgings—all his heart sought the Dao of Buddhas, Immortals, and Sages, searching for a method of ageless longevity. He saw that all people in the world were servants of fame and profit—not one concerned with life itself. Truly:
Striving for names, seizing profit—when does it end?
Early rising, late sleeping—no freedom!
Riding a donkey or mule, one thinks of fine steeds;
Holding a minister's post, one eyes a prince's rank.
Only fearing food and clothing, toiling endlessly;
What terror of the Underworld Lord coming to fetch you?
Adopted sons and grandsons seek wealth and honor;
Not one willing to turn back.
The Monkey King visited and sought the immortal Dao—no fate to meet it. In Southern Jambu Continent, he threaded the Great Wall, wandered small counties—unaware, eight or nine years passed.
Suddenly he reached the Western Ocean. He thought: beyond the seas, surely immortals dwell. Alone again, he made a raft as before, drifted across the western sea, until he reached Western Bull Continent's lands.
Going ashore, he searched widely for a long time. Suddenly he saw a magnificent mountain, beautiful, forested slopes deep and secluded. He feared no wolves or insects, dreaded no tigers or leopards, climbed to the summit to observe. Truly a fine mountain:
Thousand peaks rank like halberds,
Ten thousand cliffs open like screens.
Sunlight through mist lightly locks emerald;
Rain clears, indigo hues hold cold green.
Thin vines entwine old trees,
Ancient ferries mark hidden paths.
Rare flowers, auspicious grasses,
Slender bamboo, towering pines.
Slender bamboo, towering pines—
Ten thousand years ever-green, surpassing blessed lands;
Rare flowers, auspicious grasses—
Four seasons unfading, rivaling Peng and Ying isles.
Hidden birds sing nearby,
Spring sources murmur clear.
Layer upon layer, valleys and gorges ringed with orchids;
Everywhere, steep cliffs sprout moss.
Rising and falling ridges—excellent dragon-vein;
Surely a high master hides his name here.
As he observed, suddenly from the forest's depths he heard human speech. Hurrying forward, he pierced into the woods, tilted an ear to listen: truly a singing voice. The song said:
"Watching chess, the axe-handle rots;
Cutting wood, ding-ding sounds;
Walking slowly at the cloud's edge, valley's mouth.
Selling firewood, buying wine,
Wild laughter, self-delighted.
Green path, autumn high,
Facing the moon, pillow on pine roots,
One sleep—dawn arrives.
Recognize the old forest,
Climb cliffs, cross ridges,
Hold the axe, cut withered vines.
Gather into one load,
Walk singing through the market,
Exchange for three sheng of rice.
No more petty strife,
Market price fair and even.
No cunning schemes or clever calculations,
No honor or disgrace—
Tranquil, extending life.
Where we meet:
If not an Immortal, then a Daoist;
Sitting in stillness, reciting the Yellow Court."
The Handsome Monkey King heard these words, heart full of joy: "So immortals hide here!"
Immediately he leaped inside, looked carefully: truly a woodcutter there, raising an axe to chop firewood. Look at his attire—most extraordinary:
On his head, a bamboo-leaf hat—
Fresh bamboo shoots just shed their sheaths.
On his body, cloth garments—
Cotton spun into gauze.
At his waist, a ringed cord—
Old silkworms' mouth-spun silk.
On his feet, straw sandals—
Withered sedge fashioned smooth.
In his hand, a steel axe;
Over his shoulder, fire-hemp rope.
Breaking pines, splitting dead trees—
Yet how does he compare to this woodcutter's skill?
The Monkey King approached and called: "Old Immortal, your disciple bows!"
The woodcutter hurriedly dropped his axe, turned, and returned the bow: "Unworthy! Unworthy! I, a clumsy fellow, lack complete food and clothing—how dare I bear the title 'Immortal'?"
The Monkey King said: "If you're no immortal, how do you speak immortal words?"
The woodcutter said: "What immortal words did I speak?"
The Monkey King said: "Just now, reaching the forest's edge, I heard you say: 'Where we meet: if not an Immortal, then a Daoist; sitting in stillness, reciting the Yellow Court.' The Yellow Court is the Dao's true teaching—if not an immortal, then what?"
The woodcutter laughed: "To tell truth, without hiding: this song is titled 'Man Ting Fang.' An immortal taught it to me. That immortal's dwelling neighbors mine. Seeing my life's toil, daily vexations, he taught me: when trouble strikes, recite these words. First, to scatter the heart; second, to dissolve hardship. Just now, some lack troubled my thoughts—therefore I recited. Unexpectedly, you overheard."
The Monkey King said: "Since your home neighbors an immortal's, why not cultivate under him? Learn an ageless method—would that not be good?"
The woodcutter said: "All my life, bitterness: I was raised by parents until eight or nine, only then knowing human affairs. Misfortune—father died, mother dwelt as widow. No brothers or sisters—only myself. No choice: morning and evening I must serve her. Now mother ages; I dare not leave her side. Yet fields lie waste, food and clothing insufficient. I must chop two bundles of firewood, carry them to the market, sell for a few coins, buy a few sheng of rice, cook myself, prepare tea and meals, support my old mother. Therefore I cannot cultivate."
The Monkey King said: "By your account, you are a filial gentleman—surely good fortune awaits. But I beg you: point me to that immortal's dwelling, so I may visit and pay respects."
The woodcutter said: "Not far, not far. This mountain is called Spirit-Platform Square-Inch Mountain. Within it lies a cave: Slanting-Moon Three-Star Cave. In that cave dwells an immortal named Subhuti Patriarch. That Patriarch's departed disciples—countless. Even now, thirty or forty study under him. Follow that small path south, seven or eight li—there is his home."
The Monkey King grabbed the woodcutter's hand: "Brother, go with me! If I gain benefit, I will never forget your guidance."
The woodcutter said: "You fellow, truly inflexible! I spoke so plainly—still you don't understand? If I went with you, wouldn't I miss my livelihood? Who would feed my mother? I must chop firewood. You go yourself—go, go!"
The Monkey King heard, could only take leave. Exiting the deep forest, finding the upper path, crossing a hillside—about seven or eight li—indeed he saw a cave-dwelling in the distance.
Standing tall, he observed: truly a fine place! Behold it:
Mist and clouds scatter color,
Sun and moon shake light.
Thousand aged cypresses,
Ten thousand jointed bamboo.
Thousand aged cypresses—
Half-sky green rising with rain;
Ten thousand jointed bamboo—
One ravine indigo in mist.
Outside the gate, rare flowers spread brocade;
Beside the bridge, jade grasses spray fragrance.
Stone cliffs jut, green moss moist;
Hanging walls rise high, green lichen grows long.
Sometimes immortal cranes cry;
Often phoenixes soar.
When cranes cry, sound shakes nine marshes, reaches heaven;
When phoenixes rise, five-colored feathers cloud-light.
Black apes and white deer appear and vanish;
Golden lions and jade elephants roam at will.
Examine closely this spiritual land of blessing—
Truly rivals heaven itself.
He also saw the cave-door tightly closed, silent, no trace of footsteps. Suddenly turning his head, he saw a stone tablet standing at the cliff's head, about thirty feet tall, eight feet wide. Upon it, ten large characters in a line: "Spirit-Platform Square-Inch Mountain, Slanting-Moon Three-Star Cave."
The Handsome Monkey King, greatly joyful, said: "The people here are truly honest—truly such a mountain, such a cave exist!"
After long gazing, he dared not knock. Instead, he leaped to a pine branch's tip, plucked pine nuts, ate, and played.
After a short while, he heard a creaking sound. The cave-door opened; from inside walked an immortal youth—truly noble bearing, heroic grace, countenance pure and strange, unlike ordinary mortals. Behold him:
Twin buns bound with silk threads,
Wide robes, two sleeves wind-swept.
Appearance and body naturally distinct;
Mind and form both empty.
Beyond things, a guest of long years;
In the mountains, an eternal youth.
Not one dust-stain soils him;
Let sixty-year cycles turn as they will.
The youth stepped out, calling loudly: "Who disturbs here?"
The Monkey King leaped down from the tree with a puff, approached, bowed deeply: "Immortal youth, I am a disciple seeking the Dao, learning immortality—dare not disturb this place."
The youth laughed: "You seek the Dao?"
The Monkey King said: "I do."
The youth said: "My master just descended from his couch, ascended the platform to lecture on the Dao. Before he spoke the reason, he taught me to come out and open the door. He said: 'Someone cultivating has arrived outside—go and receive them.' Surely this is you?"
The Monkey King laughed: "It is I! It is I!"
The youth said: "Follow me in."
The Monkey King straightened his robes, composed himself, followed the youth straight into the cave-heaven's depths to observe: layer upon layer, deep pavilions of jade towers; hall upon hall, pearl palaces and shell cave—endless quiet chambers, secluded dwellings.
To meet the Patriarch, the youth changed the Monkey King 's coarse preaching clothes to avoid being rude. Until beneath the Jade Terrace, he saw Bodhi Patriarch seated upright upon the platform. On both sides, thirty lesser immortals stood below the terrace. Truly:
Greatly Awakened Golden Immortal, unstained form;
Western Marvelous Aspect, Patriarch Bodhi.
Unborn, undestroyed, three-three practices;
Full breath, full spirit, ten-thousand compassions.
Empty stillness, natural, follows transformations;
True suchness, original nature, lets all be.
With heaven same longevity, majestic body;
Through kalpas, bright-mind Great Dharma Master.
The Handsome Monkey King, upon seeing, threw his body down, bowed, kowtowed without count, mouth only saying: "Master! Master! Your disciple, with focused heart, pays homage! With focused heart, pays homage!"
The Patriarch said: "From what region are you? Speak your homeland and name clearly, then bow again."
The Monkey King said: "Your disciple is from Eastern Victory Continent, Ao Lai Kingdom, Flower-Fruit Mountain, Water-Curtain Cave."
The Patriarch shouted: "Drive him out! He is a fraud and deceiver—what Dao-fruit could he cultivate!"
The Monkey King hurriedly kowtowed without cease: "Your disciple speaks honest words—truly no deception!"
The Patriarch said: "If you're honest, how do you speak of Eastern Victory Continent? That place, from here, crosses two great seas, one Southern Jambu Continent—how could you arrive?"
The Monkey King kowtowed: "Your disciple drifted across oceans, crossed realms, wandered—over ten years, only then found this place."
The Patriarch said: "If you came gradually, very well. What is your surname?"
The Monkey King said again: "I have no nature. If people scold me, I feel no anger; if they strike me, I feel no resentment. Only I bow politely and it ends. All my life—no nature."
The Patriarch said: "Not that nature. What surname did your parents originally bear?"
The Monkey King said: "I have no parents either."
The Patriarch said: "No parents—perhaps you grew from a tree?"
The Monkey King said: "Though not tree-born, I grew from stone. I only remember: on Flower-Fruit Mountain, a spiritual stone stood; that year, the stone broke—I was born."
The Patriarch heard, secretly pleased, and said: "So speaking, you are heaven-and-earth born. Rise, walk—I will see."
The Monkey King leaped upright, limped and straightened, walked twice around.
The Patriarch laughed: "Though your body is crude and humble, you resemble a fruit-eating husun. From your body, I will take a surname for you. I intend to surname you 'Hu'—husun. Remove the beast radical from Hu: ancient moon. Ancient means old; moon means yin. Old yin cannot nurture. Better I surname you 'Sun'—sun. Remove the beast radical from Sun: child lineage. Child means son; lineage means infant fine—truly matches the infant's root theory. I will surname you Sun."
The Monkey King heard, heart full of joy, bowed and kowtowed upward: "Good! Good! Good! Today I finally know my surname! I beg the Master's compassion: since I have a surname, I beg a given name—then I may be called properly."
The Patriarch said: "In my school, twelve characters divide naming. You are the tenth generation's little disciple."
The Monkey King said: "Which twelve characters?"
The Patriarch said: "Broad, Vast, Wisdom, Clever, True, Suchness, Nature, Sea, Sharp, Awakened, Complete, Enlightenment—twelve characters. Arriving at you, just right 'Awakened' character. I will give you a Dharma-name: Sun Wukong. Is this good?"
The Monkey King laughed: "Good! Good! Good! From today, I am called Sun Wukong!"
Truly: Since primordial opening, originally no surname; breaking stubborn emptiness requires Wukong.
After all, what Dao-fruit he cultivated next—listen to the next chapter's unfolding.