Читать книгу Adventures of the Mad Monk Ji Gong - Guo Xiaoting - Страница 10

CHAPTER 2

Dong Shihong sells a daughter to bury a relative; the living lohan rescues a virtuous man

Where does the Spirit dwell?

From home you need not part.

The way’s not deep or far.

A spring’s beneath your heart.

There’s help for those who seek;

Don’t be ashamed to ask

Nor fear that you may not

Be equal to the task.

AS Ji Gong walked into the forest beside the West Lake, he suddenly saw a man preparing to hang himself. The monk understood at once a great deal about the man, having made a quick estimate of the man’s natural inclination to goodness.

The man was surnamed Dong, with the personal name of Shihong, and his native place was Qiantang prefecture in the province of Zhejiang. His unusual filial piety was shown in his treatment of his mother, who was named Qin Shi, because she came from the Qin family. He had lost his father early in life. Dong Shihong’s wife, Du Shi, had died young, leaving a daughter named Yujie, who was very intelligent and bright.

Dong Shihong was an artisan who beat gold into sheets of gold leaf. When his daughter was eight years old, his mother, Qin Shi, became bedridden with a severe illness. Though he took care of her, the family was poor, and he was unable to manage its affairs. Therefore he pawned his daughter, Yujie, to go as a serving maid in the home of scholar Gu in exchange for fifty ounces of silver. He used the money to take care of the old lady.

When his mother did not see Yujie, she asked, “Where is my granddaughter?”

Dong Shihong said that she had gone to stay with her aunt. His mother’s sickness worsened; she was unable to get up for seven days, and suddenly she was dead. He then had to use the few ounces of silver remaining for her funeral.

He then went to the town of Jiangfu and there worked continuously, carrying the heaviest load of work possible. With great difficulty he accumulated the sixty ounces of fine silver ingots needed to repay the original amount he had borrowed, plus interest. At last, he thought, he could redeem his daughter and take her back to the family home.

Along the road he talked to no one. When he reached Linan, he stayed overnight at the Yuelai Inn outside the Qiantang gate. He had his silver with him. The next day he walked on to Baijiajuan and began asking about senior graduate Gu. The neighbors all said that old master Gu had been promoted to the foreign office, and they did not know where he was performing his official duties. When Dong Shihong heard this, it was as if he had been standing at the top of an immensely tall pagoda and had lost his footing.

At the bank of the Qiantang River, he asked all the workers who pulled the old decaying barges up and down the river whether they remembered moving the household furniture of official Gu. No one knew which way the eminent master Gu had gone, nor did they know what had become of Dong Shihong’s daughter.

When Dong Shihong came to the outside of the Qiantang gate, he had a few drinks in his sorrow at the India Street Inn. Hardly knowing it, he became drunk and entered the land of dreams. Waking, he left the inn, and shortly after stopped to look around. Without realizing it, he had taken the wrong road and was lost himself. He had also lost the silver ingots. Somehow, just as he had awakened, he had touched his clothing and the silver had fallen out. The shock of this discovery was overwhelming, and he was unable to endure the realization.

As he walked toward the forest, the more he thought, the more life lost its flavor. He thought he would never be able to see his daughter’s face again. Existence had become worse than death. He felt that he was suffering the consequence of a terrible sin. Thinking these thoughts as he walked into the forest, he unwound the long sash from around his waist and made it into a noose, intending to hang himself.

Suddenly he saw coming toward him from the opposite direction a Buddhist monk who was saying to himself, “Dead, dead! Once dead and that’s the end. Death is better than living. I want to hang myself, so I have taken off my sash. Now I want to tie it up in the tree.”

Dong Shihong was quite surprised to hear this. Raising his head, he saw that the monk presented a most unseemly appearance.

Head unshaven, face unwashed,

Drink-blurred, slanting, blinking eyes;

Whether stupid or acting so,

Or dangerously mad,

His tattered clothing full of holes,

His long sash tied into a noose,

And monks’ shoes worn to shreds,

With legs half bare and ankles red,

He’d waded streams and crossed the hills,

As if there were no obstacles

And all were level ground.

Here among China’s rivers and lakes,

Between the earth and the sky,

He wandered as he must.

He did not meditate chant.

By some admired, by some despised,

Drinking and eating fish and meat,

Carousing through the night or day,

He charmed his friends, dismayed his foes,

And many wrongs he put to right.

When Dong Shihong heard the monk say, “I want to hang myself. I just want to put the noose around my neck and hang,” Dong quickly went over to him. “Monk, why do you seek to shorten your life?” he asked.

Ji Gong replied, “My teacher spent three long years instructing me while living on the contributions of the worshippers. Putting aside a little day by day and month by month, it was very difficult to get together five ounces of silver. Finally I received my teacher’s orders. He sent me to buy two monks’ garments and two monks’ hats. I like to drink wine very, very much. In the wine shop, because I greedily drank two extra measures of wine, I got tipsy, then drunk, and then very drunk, and lost the five ounces of silver. I intended to go back to the temple to see my teacher, but then I was afraid that the old monk would be angry. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I kept thinking ‘What a life! A story without a title!’ Therefore I want to hang myself.”

When Dong Shihong heard this, he said, “Monk, you may be distressed about a few ounces of silver, but not to the point of dying. I still have five or six ounces in odd bits of silver in my bag. I am already a dead man, and there is no reason for me to keep them. Come, I will give you these five or six ounces and help you.” Thrusting out his hand, he gave a small purse to the monk.

The monk took it in his hand, laughed, “Ha! Ha!” and said, “This silver of yours, however, is not such a good kind as mine was. Besides, it’s all broken up into different-sized pieces.”

When Dong Shihong heard this, he was not very happy, and thought to himself, “I did a bit of pointless charity in giving you that silver, since you complain that it is no good.” Then he said to him, “Monk, go and use that to pay back the money.”

The monk assented and said, “I’m going.”

Dong Shihong thought to himself, “This monk absolutely does not understand the customs of the world concerning favors asked and done. I gave him this silver that he did not appreciate and that he said was not good. Then, when he was going, he didn’t even ask my name and didn’t know enough to thank me. Truly he is of an uncouth generation. Anyway, as for myself, I am about to die.”

Just as he was feeling resentful, he saw the monk coming back, and heard him say, “As soon as I saw the silver, I forgot everything else and didn’t even ask the kind gentleman’s honorable name and why he is here.”

Dong Shihong told him the entire story about losing the silver ingots. The monk said, “Ah, you also lost some silver. Since father and daughter cannot see each other, you hang yourself. Well I’m going.”

When Dong Shihong heard this, he said, “This monk really doesn’t understand proper courtesies. He doesn’t know how to talk to people.”

He saw the monk walk five or six steps and then come back saying, “Dong Shihong, are you really going to die, or are you pretending?”

Dong Shihong said, “What if I am really going to die?”

The monk said, “If you are really going to die, you can do me a genuine favor. The complete outfit of clothing you are wearing is worth five or six ounces of silver, and you are leaving it for the wolves to eat and the dogs to gnaw. What a useless waste! Take your clothes off and give them to me. You dropped into the world naked; go out the same way. Wouldn’t that be better?”

When Dong Shihong heard this speech, his entire body began to shake, and he said, “A good monk you are! You really understand friendship! As a casual friend, I gave you several ounces of silver. I have been burning paper to call up a devil!”

The monk clapped his hands, and laughing loudly said, “Very good! Very good! You must not get excited. I only asked you. You lost your money, so you were going to die. Fifty or sixty ounces of silver do not amount to anything. I will take you to find your daughter and cause you and your daughter to come back together. Flesh and bone reunited. How about it? Congratulations!”

Dong Shihong said, “Monk, I lost the money to redeem my daughter—if I don’t have the money, how is it possible that we can be reunited?”

The monk answered, “It’s all right. I have a way. You come with me.”

Dong Shihong asked, “Monk, where is your temple? Where can one find it, and what are your honorable names?”

Ji Gong replied, “I came to the West Lake hurriedly from the Monastery of the Soul’s Retreat. My name is Dao Ji. People call me Ji Dian, the mad monk.”

Dong Shihong realized that the monk did not speak in an unrefined manner. Rewinding the sash around his waist, Dong Shihong asked, “Where did you say you were going, Teacher?”

Ji Gong said, “Walk!” Turning, he led Dong Shihong straight ahead. The monk was singing a mountain song:

Walk, walk, walk and roam, roam, roam.

There is no better way than this to pass the spring and fall.

Now today I feel how good it is to be a monk.

Now I do regret those years I had to spend in toil.

Now I see that love is an illusion.

Now I feel that wives are all a snare.

What can equal crossing fields and rivers?

What can equal the gourd in my bare hands?

What can equal the sound of wind and rain?

What can equal the slowly fading day?

Happy now from morn to night and no one cares about me.

Never a vexation, never something sad.

Hemp sandals striding over field and stream,

Ragged monk’s robe and head as smooth as satin.

I can be gentle or I can be hard.

Outside my body there’s a world of new delights.

It doesn’t matter if the earth wants skulls and bones.

Caring not for heaven, stopping not for earth,

Happy as a powerful prince,

I can sing songs and make them up as well.

I can doze whenever I am tired,

Then when I wake, I can quickly go again

Back to the world’s affairs.

The monk went on with Dong Shihong through the Qiantang gate into Linan and stopped inside a small lane. There he spoke to Dong Shihong, saying, “You stand here inside this lane. Don’t wander off. In a little while, a person will ask you your birthday and your age. Just answer him. Today I am going to bring you two, father and daughter, face to face, flesh and bone back together.”

Dong Shihong agreed and said, “Saintly monk, you are most compassionate and kind.”

The monk turned his head and looked. On the north side of the road was a large gateway. Inside the gateway stood twenty or thirty of the household’s people. From the tablet hung above the gate, he knew that it was the home of a government official.

The monk proceeded up the steps and said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. Is this the house of the Zhao family?”

The household people, glancing quickly, saw that he was a poor monk and said, “You are not wrong. Our master is named Zhao. What are you doing here?”

The monk replied, “I have heard people say that the old lady of your honorable house is sick in body and gravely sinking, and that it is feared that she may die. I came especially to see your master and to offer a cure for the old lady.”

When the family’s people heard the monk’s words, one of them said, “Monk, your arrival is most opportune. You are not wrong about what you have heard. Because the young master of the house became seriously ill, the old mistress was so concerned about the child that she became disturbed and fell ill. A great many doctors have come to see her, but there has been no sign of improvement. The master of the house, Zhao Wenhui, is most filial toward his mother, and from the first, when he saw the old lady’s illness grow more serious, invited famous medical men to come.”

The man continued, “There is a yuanwai named Su whose personal name is Beishan. In his home there is also an old lady who became sick. They invited a gentleman named Li Huaiqun, who is well versed in herbal medical science, to examine her. The master of the house has just now gone to the Su home to invite that gentleman to come here.”

Even as he spoke, a group of horsemen came riding up with three men at the front. The first, a good-looking man riding a white horse, wore a square cap on his head topped by a jade flower with two ribbon streamers. On his body he wore the blue satin leisure coat of a gentleman. It was embroidered with a design of bats and butterflies. This man was Li Huaiqun, a cousin of Zhao Wenhui.

The second wore a double-butterfly treasure-blue jacket and a blue satin gentleman’s cap with three embroidered blue flowers. He wore a soft blue satin leisure garment and black palace-style shoes. His face was like the waning moon, eyebrows compassionate and eyes benevolent. Three long strands of beard, blown by the wind, went sweeping across his chest. This was Su Beishan.

The third was also dressed like a wealthy official with a white face, long beard, and handsome features.

When the monk had finished looking at them, he went over and, stopping the horses, said, “Will the three gentlemen go more slowly? I have been waiting for you for some time.”

Zhao Wenhui, the third of the three riders, seeing the monk walk into the road, said, “We have urgent business, monk; we have invited this gentleman to cure my old mother’s illness. You should come to solicit funds on another day. Today it is not possible to talk with you.”

The monk said, “Not possible, you say! But, I am not soliciting alms. Today I heard it said that the force of the illness influencing the old lady in your residence has grown more severe. I have made a vow to treat those who have become ill, wherever they may be. Today I came with the special intention of treating your mother’s illness.”

Zhao Wenhui said, “The gentleman I have invited here is the most famous doctor of the present age. You can go away. We are not using you.”

As soon as the monk heard this, he turned his head and, looking at Li Huaiqun, said, “Sir, even though you are a famous doctor, I can still teach you what illness one kind of medicine can cure.”

Doctor Li asked, “What kind of medicine are you talking about, monk?”

Ji Gong asked in return, “What illness can be cured by biscuits hot out of the oven?”

Doctor Li replied, “I don’t know. They are not among the herbal medicines.”

The monk laughed. “Ha! Ha! You don’t even know one of the most important principles and still dare to call yourself a famous doctor! Biscuits that come out of the oven cure hunger. Isn’t that right? You didn’t know that! I had better come with you into the Zhao home and help you.”

Li Huaiqun said, “Good! Monk, you just come with me.”

Zhao Wenhui and Su Beishan could not very well keep him back—the only thing they could do was to go on through the gateway with the monk. When they entered the old lady’s house and sat down, they were given tea by the house servants.

Doctor Li examined the old lady and said that she had a collection of bloody mucus in her throat, and that she could not become well except by expectorating it. The old lady was advanced in years. Both her spirit and her blood were deficient, so medicine could not be used. Official Zhao was then asked whether there was anything else he wanted the doctor to do.

Zhao Wenhui said, “Sir, my field is not medicine, but I know that there are famous doctors. You may recommend someone in addition, if you choose.”

Doctor Li said, “Here in Linan there are only two outstanding doctors—myself and Tang Wanfang. Those people that he can cure, I can cure; those that he cannot, I also cannot. We two have the same capabilities.”

When they had conversed just to this point, Ji Gong spoke up. “You need not all become alarmed. First, let me look at the old lady.”

Zhao Wenhui was first of all a caring son, and as soon as he heard the monk’s words, he said, “Good. Come and look.” Li Huaiqun also wanted to observe the monk’s capabilities.

When Ji Gong approached the old lady, he patted her twice on the head and said, “Old lady, you are not going to die. Your head is still hard.”

Li Huaiqun asked, “What are you saying, monk?”

Ji Gong said, “I will summon the phlegm and make it come out, and then everything will be all right.” Going around to the front of the old lady, he said, “Phlegm, phlegm, come out quickly! You’re blocking up the old lady enough to kill her.”

Doctor Li laughed, but just as he said, “Isn’t that a bit unprofessional?” he saw the old lady cough up a mouthful of mucus.

Ji Gong put out his hand with a piece of medicine in it, saying, “Bring me a bowl of water.” It was brought to him by one of the household servants.

Zhao Wenhui looked and asked, “Monk, what is that medicine? Can it cure my mother’s illness?”

Ji Gong laughed loudly, and holding out the medicine in his hand answered, “This medicine that I carry has endless uses. It completely cures numerous symptoms of many diseases. It is the Eight Treasure Pill to Restore the Dead. It is by no means one that may lie loosely with other medicines.” After Ji Gong had spoken, he placed the pill in the bowl, saying, “The old lady is in this state because of anxiety. Now that she is relieved of the mucus she will grow stronger. Very soon she will fall into a stupor and not awaken immediately. Wait and take good care of her. As she takes the medicine, some good results will be seen immediately.”

As soon as Zhao Wenhui heard this, he realized that Ji Gong had an extensive medical background and that he had explained the cause exactly. Excitedly he began to speak: “Saintly monk, you are really too kind. It was because my mother was so fond of the child that she became ill with anxiety. I have a boy aged six who is suffering from a retributive illness. He complains of a wrong having been done to someone else, but no one knows what it is. He is still in a delirium and has not awakened. When my mother became disturbed about the boy, her throat became congested. If, my teacher, you are to cure my mother completely, I must also ask the monk to cure my little child.”

Since the old lady had now awakened, the monk had her drink the medicine, and she recovered completely. Zhao Wenhui went to her and paid his respects. In addition, he kowtowed to the monk and asked him to cure his son.

Ji Gong said, “It is also not difficult to cure your son. It is, however, necessary that we obtain one thing. After that I can manage the cure very well.”

Zhao Wenhui asked what that necessary thing was. Ji Gong would not be hurried nor pressured into explaining that the thing needed to make the entire family of Zhao Wenhui well again was to bring Dong Shihong and his daughter together.