Volume 3: A Long Journey Chapter 228: Unwavering Determination Tang Seng, hearing that the old man Wu had finally asked him, smiled faintly and said, “I became a monk at a young age; my secular name is long forgotten. Why ask about it?” The old man Wu replied, “All of us are raised by our parents. Even after entering Buddhism, we cannot abandon our flesh and blood. How could we forget the kindness of our parents?” Tang Seng thought of his own difficult fate, having been separated from his parents since childhood, and felt a myriad of emotions. The old man Wu continued, “The grace of nine months in the womb is immense, yet repayment over three lifetimes seems trivial. It takes eighteen years to nurture a child just one foot and three inches tall. How difficult it is for parents to bring a child into the world…” Hearing these words, Tang Seng felt extremely distressed, and tears streamed down his face. Unaware that the old man Wu had secretly used magic, he, being merely a mortal, could hardly withstand it. After Tang Seng finished crying, the old man Wu said, “Elder, please fulfill Old Man Yuan’s wish. If I don’t get everything I asked for, I won’t be at peace.” Tang Seng replied, “My secular surname is Chen.” Hearing that Tang Seng’s surname was Chen, the old man Wu widened his eyes in shock for a while, then suddenly raised his hands and exclaimed in joy, “Heaven is merciful! I’ve waited for three years—today, at last, I’ve seen this day!” He then began chanting “Amitabha” repeatedly. Seeing the old man Wu’s ecstatic reaction, Tang Seng couldn’t help but say, “Sir, there’s no need for this. Meeting me is of no use. I became a monk as a child and have long resolved to serve Buddha for life.” The old man Wu didn’t take it seriously and smiled, saying, “It’s easy to discuss. Everything can be negotiated.” Tang Seng never expected that just a surname could cause trouble, so he said, “I wonder what’s become of my three disciples. They are mischievous, and I’m a bit worried.” The old man Wu laughed and said, “Elder, go ahead. Marriage is not something that can be forced.” Hearing his increasingly absurd words, Tang Seng left the study and headed toward the front hall. As he reached the corridor, he saw Wu Xiaomei standing by the corridor with two maids, watching fish. Not wanting to meet her, he tried to go around. The old man Wu also left the study and whispered something in Xiaomei’s ear. Though he didn’t know what he said, Xiaomei’s face turned slightly red, and she said a few coquettish words. The old man Wu laughed heartily, clearly in high spirits. Hearing this from afar, Tang Seng felt uneasy. He took a few more steps and was about to reach the back door of the front hall when suddenly Wu Xiaomei appeared in front of him, with the two maids nowhere to be seen. She was dressed differently from before—wearing a light green patterned jacket and a sky-blue embroidered skirt, looking fresh and pleasant to the eye.
When Tang Seng saw Wu Xiaomei blocking his path, he stopped immediately and bowed. Wu Xiaomei, no longer as cheerful as before, lowered her head shyly and whispered, “Are you surnamed Chen?”
Tang Seng was shocked—Uluo had told her about this. Still, he had to answer bravely, “I indeed am surnamed Chen.” Hearing Tang Seng confirm it, her cheeks turned even redder, and she said, “You… you’re very kind.” With that, she turned and ran away, her shy demeanor fully displayed.
Tang Seng sighed, shook his head, and entered the front hall.
Inside, only Zhu Bajie was lying asleep on a yellow pearwood chair. Tang Seng went over to wake him and asked about Wukong and Wuhui, but Zhu Bajie, still drowsy, didn’t know either.
At that moment, Wukong led Wuhui in through the main door and called out, “Master! There must be something interesting in the study—we’ve been gone for ages.”
How could Tang Seng tell them? He said, “Don’t wander around randomly. As guests, we mustn’t let others laugh at our lack of manners.”
Wukong replied, “I’ll take Wuhui outside to feed the horses. This household is huge—there are over a dozen pastures just for the horses.”
Tang Seng was very annoyed now and said, “Whether it’s big or small, what does it matter to us? Let’s set off early tomorrow.”
As they were chatting, a middle-aged man in his forties came out from the back hall, beaming, and headed straight for Tang Seng. He bowed first and said, “I am Wu Liu, the steward of this household. First, congratulations to the bridegroom!”
These words startled Zhu Bajie, who was half-asleep. He jumped up quickly and asked, “Who called me?”
Wu Liu smiled and said, “It’s not you—it’s Elder Chen.”
Tang Seng waved his hands repeatedly, saying, “There’s no such thing as a bridegroom. Don’t jump to conclusions!”
Zhu Bajie opened his mouth wide and blurted, “Master, what a clever trick! Just now you made me admit my faults, and now you’ve gone to the back yard to forge connections!”
Tang Seng scolded, “You wretched creature! We are monks—how can we be tempted by wealth or beauty? What sense is that?”
Wu Liu said, “Elder Chen, what’s so great about being a monk? Think about living at home—enjoying luxury and wealth, having enough to wear and eat, with family together—how happy that must be—”
Tang Seng replied, “Steward, you’re wrong. The joys of monastic life are beyond the understanding of outsiders. One must remember: practicing meditation is the foundation for achieving concentration; spreading kindness and showing compassion is the essence of cultivation. True skill appears clumsy; one must let go of everything. By abandoning all worldly attachments, all desires will vanish. With purity and minimal desires, one can enjoy eternal life—far better than fleeting pleasures, right?”
Wu Liu said, “I don’t understand what the high monk said. All I know is that my lady’s immortal master has arrived. He is extremely wise and foresighted; he knew that today a man surnamed Chen would come from the east specifically to hold a grand ceremony for my lady, so he came by flying on clouds.”
Wukong couldn’t help but ask, “What kind of grand ceremony? What are you talking about?”
Wu Liu was momentarily stunned, then suddenly understood. Pointing at Tang Seng, he said, “Elder, this is such a great joyous event, yet you still haven’t told your disciples!” Then he turned to Wukong and said, “These elders don’t know that my lady has had a fortune-telling session with an immortal, who said she must marry a man surnamed Chen from the east to live happily together until old age. Her grandfather has been praying day and night for three years. Sure enough, this elder’s surname is Chen, and he’s coming from the east—just as if he fell from the sky. Isn’t he the perfect match for my lady?”
Wukong suddenly understood and laughed heartily. “Master, do you believe in Buddha or in the heavens?”
Tang Seng glared at Wukong and said, “I only want to worship Buddha and seek scriptures. Don’t talk about other matters!”
Wukong replied, “The match has come to us—how can you not discuss it?”
Bajie said, “It’s not them who came to us; it’s us who went to them! Master, I get it now—you want to marry into their family! I, the old pig, am half a matchmaker too. If not for my antics, how could you—”
Tang Seng shouted, “Shut up! If you mention this again, I’ll send you back to Gao Laozhuang!” Bajie was terrified of this and quickly shut up without saying another word.
Wu Liu said, “Elder Chen, the back hall is waiting. They ask you to change quickly. The immortal master doesn’t have much time. He says today is the perfect day, and while he’s here, he might even prepare a gift so rare that you’ll never see one in this world.”
Tang Seng said, “No matter how beautifully you speak, I still refuse. Can’t the Wu family force a marriage?” With that, he turned around and said, “Wukong, pack your things—let’s set off!”
At that moment, a man appeared at the entrance of the hall and shouted, “What an ungrateful monk!” Everyone looked closely and saw that it was a Taoist priest. He wore a dark green Taoist robe, had short beard stubs on his cheeks, a sharp mouth and monkey-like face—far from looking like an immortal, more like a sorcerer from the jianghu. Behind him were Elder Wu and Young Miss Wu. Elder Wu still had a joyful expression, but Young Miss Wu looked sorrowful, her beautiful eyes fixed intently on Tang Seng.
Wukong observed carefully and realized that this Taoist priest was clearly the incarnation of some beastlike demon, with cultivation at least at the level of an immortal. Yet this immortal didn’t seem to have much demonic aura, suggesting he was indeed an immortal from the heavens.
The Taoist priest entered the hall and said, “It’s a match bestowed by heaven. Why do you, monk, keep delaying? Does my lady not deserve you?”
Tang Seng said, “Elder Taoist, when have you ever heard of a monk marrying?”
The Taoist replied, “Monks can also return to secular life—why not?”
Tang Seng smiled and said, “Monks indeed can return to secular life, but only if they are willing. If the other party doesn’t want it, how can we force them? Besides, fate in the world is arranged by the Moon God. What right do you have to decide which union is good and which is bad?”
After hearing Tang Seng’s words, the Taoist burst into laughter and said, “Even the Moon God would address me as an immortal. I say it is, and it is! To put it plainly, you must marry today, whether you like it or not!”
Unfazed, Tang Seng met the Taoist’s gaze and said two words: “I won’t!”
As soon as he finished speaking, Wu Xiaomei burst into tears and rushed into the arms of Old Wu. Old Wu comforted her gently and said to Tang Seng, “Elder Chen, life at home is wonderful, but everything is difficult outside. Please think carefully!”
Tang Seng replied, “I am deeply grateful for your hospitality, but my resolve to go west to worship Buddha remains unchanged. I hope you can understand.”
The Taoist sneered and said, “I’m curious to see who can get out of this door.”
Tang Seng said, “Wukong, the Bodhisattva has instructed you to protect me on my journey west. I leave this challenge to you today.”
Wukong thought to himself that this Tang Seng was much smarter than the one in Journey to the West—seeing he had no solution, he simply passed the responsibility on.
Wukong stepped forward and said, “Elder Taoist, you claim to be an immortal. What powers do you possess?”
The Taoist glanced at Wukong and shuddered inwardly, thinking, “How could it be him?” But since he had to go through with it, he said, “I can summon wind and rain, turn beans into soldiers, ascend to the heavens to seize the moon, and dive into the seas to capture dragons—I can—” Wukong interrupted him, “No need for all that. I have an iron rod here. If you can lift it, I’ll let my master marry your daughter. How about that?”
The Taoist was skeptical and asked, “Is this promise binding?”
Wukong replied, “Of course!”
He took out the Ruyi Staff from his ear, swayed it slightly, and it grew over a foot long. He placed the staff gently on the ground, and with a crisp crack, an entire slab of bluestone turned to dust, with half of the staff buried in the debris.
Seeing the staff was so small, the Taoist thought, “Even if it were made of pure gold, how heavy could it be?” He stepped forward and tried to grab it, but no matter how hard he tried, the iron rod didn’t budge. He had no idea that the rod weighed 54,000 jin—far beyond his strength to lift.
Wukong laughed and said, “If you can’t lift it, step aside!”
The Taoist refused to believe in superstition. With a loud shout, he said, “Get up!” This indeed had an effect—the Ruyi Staff trembled slightly before settling back in place.
The Taoist’s face turned red, either from exhaustion or shame. Dejected, he said, “I’ve lost face today. I’ll take no further part in this matter.” With that, he turned and left.
Wukong said to Tang Seng, “Master, he’s gone.”
The Taoist had left, but the old man surnamed Wu at the door said, “Though he lost, I still haven’t agreed!”
Suddenly, the old man chanted a spell, and the hall became pitch dark, its colors changing instantly.