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“A good suggestion,” said old Mr. Chen. “Servants,” he ordered, “saddle six of our horses, but not the Tang Priest's horse.”
Then with six young pages in attendance they went in line to the bank of the river to look. Indeed:
The snow is piled up like mountains,
When the clouds disappear the dawn is bright.
A thousand pi
Frozen rivers and lakes are completely smooth.
The North wind chills to the bone,
The slippery ice is bitterly cold.
The fish stay by the plants in the pond,
The wild birds linger in the stubble.
Beyond the frontier fingers are lost to frostbite;
The boatman on the river breaks his teeth with shivering.
Snakes' stomachs split,
Birds' legs break:
The ice forms mountains thousands of feet high.
The flowing silver stops in ten thousand valleys;
Cold is the river's liquid jade.
The East produces frozen silkworms,
And mice make their holes in the Northern ice.
Wang Xiang lay on the ice to melt it
And caught a carp for his mother to eat.
When the Emperor Guangwu crossed the river
A bridge of ice formed overnight for him.
Many are the layers of ice on the pond,
And the deep pool is frozen solid.
There are no more waves on the mighty River of Heaven;
The gleaming ice stretches out as hard as a road.
When Sanzang and his party reached the bank of the river they reined in their horses to look and saw that there really were people setting out from where the road reached the bank. “Benefactor,” asked Sanzang, “where are those people going to across the ice?”
“On the other side of the river,” said old Mr. Chen, “is the Womanland of Western Liang. Those people are all traders. What costs a hundred cash on this side can be worth ten thousand over there and vice versa, and it's because such big profits can be made for such a small expenditure that people risk their lives to go there. Normally they form groups of five to a dozen or so and sail across, but now that the river has frozen over they are prepared to walk over at mortal peril.”
“Fame and profit are what make the world go round,” said Sanzang. “They are risking their lives for profit, and my disciples loyally obey orders for the sake of fame: there's not much to choose between them.” He then told Monkey to go back to their benefactors' house, pack the luggage, and bridle and saddle the horse so that they could head West while the ice held. Monkey agreed with a chuckle.
“Master,” said Friar Sand, “there's a saying that goes, 'For a thousand days you need a thousand pints of rice.' Now that we are staying at the Chen house why don't we wait here a few days longer till the skies have cleared and the ice melted then get a boat to take us across? Rushing like this will only lead to trouble.”
“Wujing,” Sanzang replied, “how can you be so stupid? If it were March and the weather were warming up every day we could wait for it to thaw. But now it is September and it is getting cooler very day, so it would be absurd to wait for the thaw. It would set our journey a long time back.”
“Stop all that idle chatter,” said Pig, jumping down from his horse. “I'm going to find out how thick the ice is.”
“You idiot,” said Monkey, “you could test the depth of the water the other evening by throwing a stone into it, but you could never do that now that the ice is so thick.”
“What you don't understand, brother,” said Pig, “is that I can hit it with my rake. If I smash through it, it's too thin for us to walk on; but if I don't move it at all that'll show it's thick enough for us to cross.”
“What you say is right,” observed Sanzang. The idiot hitched up his clothes, strode to the edge of the river, raised his rake with both hands, and brought it down with all his might. There was a hollow thump as nine white scars appeared on the ice. His hand had been painfully jarred.
“We can go,” said the idiot with a grin, “we can go. It's frozen solid right down to the bottom.”
The news delighted Sanzang, who took them all back to the Chen house and told them to prepare to travel. Seeing that repeated pleas were not going to make their visitors stay the two old men gave them some dry cooked grain, buns and steamed bread. The whole household kowtowed to the monks in respect then carried out a tray of silver and gold pieces and knelt before them. “We are so grateful to you gentlemen for saving the lives of our children that we would like to offer you this towards the cost of a meal on the journey.”
Sanzang shook his head and waved his hand as he refused to accept it. “I am a monk,” he said, “and what would I want with money? I would never be able to produce it on the journey. We have to beg for what we eat. The food you have given us will be plenty.” When the old men repeatedly implored them to accept it Monkey took just under half an ounce of it between his fingers that he handed to Sanzang with the words, “Master, accept this offering so as not to be ungrateful to the two old gentlemen.”
Only then did they take their leave. Once the horse's hoofs slipped on the ice at the edge of the river, so that Sanzang almost fell of.
“It's hard going, Master,” said Friar Sand.
“Wait,” said Pig. “Ask old Mr. Chen for some rice straw.”
“What for?” Brother Monkey asked.
“You wouldn't know,” said Pig. “If you wrap rice straw round the horse's hoofs it won't slip and the master won't fall off.” When old Mr. Chen heard this from the bank he at once sent someone back to fetch a bundle of rice straw from the house, then invited Sanzang to dismount while Pig wrapped the straw round the horse's hoofs, after which they set out across the ice.
When they had taken their leave of the old Chen brothers and gone a mile or so from the bank Pig handed the nine-ringed monastic staff to Sanzang.
“Master,” he said, “hold this staff sticking out sideways as you ride.”
“You idiot,” said Monkey, “you're trying another dirty trick. You're meant to be carrying the staff, so why are you giving it to the master to carry?”
“You've never walked across ice,” said Pig, “so you wouldn't know that there are always crevasses. Step on one and you'll go in. If you don't have something like a carrying-pole sticking out sideways then you'll fall into the water and have no more chance of climbing out that if you were in a big pot with a lid on it. You've got to have a prop like this to be safe.”
“This idiot must have years of experience of walking on ice,” thought Monkey, smiling to himself, and they took Pig's advice: the venerable elder held his monastic staff sideways, Monkey his iron cudgel, Friar Sand his demon-quelling staff and Pig, who had the luggage on a carrying-pole over his shoulder, held his rake sideways at waist height. Thus master and disciples pressed ahead without worry until nightfall, when they ate some of their dry rations. Not daring to delay, they hurried on over the ice that glistened and reflected the light of the moon and the stars across its white expanses. The horse never rested for a moment nor did master and disciples close their eyes as they kept going all night. They ate some more dry rations at dawn and pressed on towards the West.
As they were walking they heard a loud creaking noise from under the ice which so frightened the white horse that it almost fell over. “Disciples,” asked Sanzang with horror, “what was that noise?”
“The river has frozen so solid that it's made the earth rumble,” said Pig. “Or perhaps the river's frozen right to the bottom here in the middle.” Half reassured but still half terrified, Sanzang whipped the horse forward and they carried on.
Since coming back to his watery palace the evil monster had been waiting under the ice with all his spirits for a long time. As soon as he heard the horse's hoofs he used his magic to make the ice burst noisily open, giving Monkey such a fright that he sprang up into mid-air. The other three and the white horse sank into the water, where the evil monster captured Sanzang and took him back to his underwater palace with all his spirits.