"This little cave must be the place where Yuan Gong hides the books," thought Bonze Dan, ducking his head and pressing on into the narrow passageway. Once inside he found it to twist and turn, widen and narrow; part in darkness and part in light, and there were a few rooms to be seen. In them were a bed, stool, chair, desk and things of that sort, all of stone. And there were stone household implements: a writing brush, inkstone, bowl and a large jug; he couldn't lift them, try as he might. Nowhere could he see any books. Going on yet further the cave narrowed and he came to a puddle two or three feet deep; that appeared to be the end of the passage.

When he turned around and retraced his steps for another look he was already pretty sure that the heavenly books weren't in there. Then breaking out into the large stone chamber once more he examined the walls carefully. "Gosh!" he exclaimed. For it had all been right in front of his eyes all along. Why, if those characters carved on those walls weren't Heaven's secrets, what were they? There was only one problem. The stone walls of that giant vault couldn't very well be carried off, and he'd brought no brush, inkstone or paper on which to record such charms. What could he do but rely on his memory and try to digest a few lines? His second attempt was thus coming to a bitter end. Standing on his tiptoes, rubbing his eyes and straining to read down the lines of the text, what should reach his nostrils but the aroma of incense. Running back for a look he saw that the white jade incense burner was already emitting smoke! Bonze Dan broke into giant strides, bolted right out of the cave and, not daring to look back fairly flew across the stone bridge. Arriving once more at his hut he had a good long rest until his panting subsided.

Now it's been said since ancient times that the memory of pain far outlives the healing of the wound itself. Thinking of how he'd twice been to White Cloud Cave and of all the fear and suffering he'd been through, all for the few words he managed to remember, he really felt like screaming. So on and on he sobbed, fore three days and nights, unceasing in his agony. Suddenly one day a passerby called to him. "You there, in the hut-- who are you and why are you crying?"

Bonze Dan rubbed his tear-swollen eyes, poked outside the hut and saw a white-haired old man. What was he like? Just look at this:

Seeing that the visitor was old and strange looking, Bonze Dan rushed out curiously. The elder had some questions of his own. "My dear monk," he began, "what brought you into these wilds alone and what are you so upset about? Go on and try to tell me, it'll do you good."

Bonze Dan collected himself and spoke. "Old Master, listen to my story. I, a mere novice, have been under vows since childhood and I've got no kin to speak of. Because I love Dao I've been trying to learn monumental and earthshaking kind of sorcery. Now, I've heard that this mountain's got a certain White Cloud Cave, and that in it are stored secret writings of Heaven. So braving all sorts of suffering I've sought them with all my heart. Who'd have ever imagined that I'd wait out two Dragon Boat Festivals and twice enter that cave-- spanning more than a year of my life-- all for naught." Then he carefully told all; how he'd searched without success on his first try and how he'd been unable to copy down the writings on his second. Then, the tale told, he broke out in sobs once more.

"There's no need for such grief, priest," said the visitor; "listen to an old man. That White Cloud Cave, why, I was in it as a youth."

Bonze Dan's despair turned to delight. "Then you must have seen the heavenly writings," he blurted out; "how much of them were you able to copy?"

"Although I did see them, I too was unable to take anything away with me. But I later met an Original Nature Daoist who told me that those secret charms of the Palace of Heaven can't be copied down like your ordinary books. No siree, if you want them, you can't just copy them with a brush; time won't allow it. What you've got to do is take a clean, pure white piece of paper, go with it before the incense burner and reverently declare with all your heart to assist Heaven and follow Dao, and to never dare do evil. If it's been fated in Dao the characters will copy off just like that, but if it ain't in the cards, forget it. You won't get a single word."

"Will you go back to try for a copy?" asked Bonze Dan.

"No, no," answered the stranger; "this old man's seen better days. I ain't got the strength to do it even if I were permitted."

"Where do live, sir?" asked our monk. "If I can copy them I'd love to come tell you all about it!"

"Not far from here. I'll come around to check up on you when I'm free." Having spoken, he walked off toward the east grasping his long briarwood staff.

Bonze Dan sat in semi disbelief. "Damned if I do and damned if I don't," he muttered. "Why, with enough effort an iron bar can be ground down into a sewing needle. I'll just wait out another full year, then for better or worse I'll have something unique in my grasp. Anyway, if those Daoist charms are really forbidden to mankind why on earth were they carved onto the stone wall?"

And so from that point on he began his year-long rest, nurturing his hopes afresh. After a few days he visited the old man's place on an impulse but there was no trace of him. Once more he became sullen and downcast at heart. How could he spend the fours seasons of yet another year in that hut of pine boughs? Once more he had to pack up his belongings, take up a short cudgel for self-defense and hit the open road for the life of a begging monk.

Shortly after setting out he arrived in a place called Chenzhou. Now just what sort of a place was that? Just look:

Bonze Dan wandered happily around Chenzhou without pause, and all went well. But as things would have it one day he journeyed to the boundary of Qianyang County, where he found a wide expanse of rolling terrain with ragged looking burial mounds rising chaotically in the distance all around. It was the last half of the eighth lunar month, perhaps early in November, and the dead leaves were piled up around his knees; it was really a desolate scene. After continuing on for awhile without finding anywhere to beg a meal he noticed that dusk had come to the sky, and by now he was really hungry. But just as he began to despair he spotted several woodcutters gathering firewood up on a ridge and he made haste in their direction. Catching up, he hailed them in his well practiced style: ""This poor monk wishes to enter Qianyang County. Praytell, which trail goes there?"

"Follow this ridge south," answered on of the woodsmen, pointing. "You'll come to the Luojia Manor. There are a few families farming on the estate and you can ask for more help. We're in a rush ourselves 'cause we've got to get back before nightfall-- sorry we can't tell you in more detail."

Now if it really makes you mad the way waiters and shop assistants drag their feet when called, you would have been delighted to see Bonze Dan pick up his pole and take off as if on wings. He wasn't easily discouraged. "What's this here place called?" he shouted to the figures in the dusk behind him. "Rebel Graves Ridge," answered one of the woodcutters, now far back in the distance.

"No wonder those mounds are clustered around here," he thought; "this is a local burial ground." And he began to muse. "The span of a human life is so ephemeral, like the grass of summer. Why, if one can't learn something really unique and do some great undertaking to establish his name for all time, it all comes to naught like these mounds of yellow soil, anonymous and forgotten."

Sighing in despair he continued walking south. On he went for quite a distance until the terrain began gradually to level off and some fields of grain came into view; he took these at once to be the Luo family estate's lands. But there were no people; the few thatched cottages here and there were locked up and deserted. He could only endure his hunger and continue on. Then as the twilight dimmed he peered across the brook he was now following, over into the forest, and saw the form of a person. Wishing to cross the stream but having no idea of its depth he walked to the water's edge and poked his short cudgel into the flow, feeling around for the bottom. But unbeknown to him this stream was over eight feet deep, and his stick was soon snatched from his grasp and taken away by the swift current. Bonze Dan fished around for it in vain until he realized it was lost. Then he walked along the bank for a short distance and found that it narrowed a bit. And there was the hanging greenery of two wild trees on either bank, twisted together into natural ropes suspended across the surface, forming a floating bridge of sorts.

Our monk became excited and leapt up for one of the vines, not suspecting that they or the trees they hung from might have been old and rotten as was indeed the case; his excessive weight uprooted one of the trunks. What a sight, that wild bonze plunging, arms and legs flailing, into the stream! Fortunately he fell into a shallow spot and only sank up to his chest. He was unharmed, save for swallowing a mouthful of water and getting a good soaking, and he managed to hold onto his pack. But just then his left foot went down into a deep hole. When he pulled it out and regained his balance one of his hemp slippers was gone.

Well, it was a revolting development all right, but he managed to drag himself, coated with mud and soaked to the bone, over to the opposite bank. He climbed out of his sopping wet jacket, gown and pants, wrung them out with his hands and donned them as before, and then cast away his right slipper. Barefoot, he picked up his soggy pack, gazed toward the forest and set off in that direction.

When he was still about a furlong away from the forest he happened to spot a few more thatched cottages. When he came closer for a look at one, he saw that the door was closed. Outside, the thatching hung down to touch the tall wild grass and weeds in which the house was nested. And there, kneeling under those long eaves in the tall undergrowth was a nondescript, monkish sort of man, holding a sutra before him in the near-darkness and striking a thoughtful pose. On his left lay a package; leaning against it was an iron-tipped fighting staff. Bonze Dan humbly approached him as usual. "Old Teacher," he called out. "I'm an unworthy monk just escaped from drowning, begging your mercy for some shelter!"

Now that lone recluse just dropped his eyelids, not even casting a glance at the soaked and bedraggled newcomer. Again he called out, pleading. "I, a wretched monk, am starving. It would indeed be a virtuous undertaking to lay some provisions and alms on me."

The old hermit still ignored him. "Tut, tut, is it a tree or a stone," continued Bonze Dan, "that it remains so tight lipped? Well, I won't bother him any longer. I'll just knock on doors until I succeed in getting someone to open up and hand out a beggar's bowl of hot soup; that'll be great!" But he began to consider his situation in his mind.

"Who knows if anyone lives here," he thought, "or if the old man's a Buddhist or not, but one thing's for sure. If I knock on these doors at midnight I'm bound to be seeing these people at their meanest. Anyway, I've only got one night of dampness to suffer through; fortunately it isn't very cold. By tomorrow morning my clothes and sack will be dry, come what may, and I won't have that problem anymore." Then he tied his sash and went over to sit down under the eaves, facing that old itinerant-looking monk.

"You baldheaded jackass!" the old monk shouted at Bonze Dan. "This little spot is for me to stretch out and rest in. You've got a lot to learn! What do I care about some louse in wet clothes, come barging in on my peace and quiet!"

Bonze Dan was shocked. "Where can you find a holy man with a mouth like that, scolding and cursing?" he thought. Finding the man's anger unbearable he spoke again. "I took the wrong road and hadn't been able to beg a meal for more than a day, and then I fell into a stream and got soaked. Now all I want to do is borrow a little shelter for the night. Come morning I'll be on my way without any disturbance, Old Teacher. I beg you, please give me a break!"

"You stubborn, lousy mule of a priest!" scolded the original squatter, even louder than before. "You obviously don't know who I am. I'm an old man to be treated with respect by the name of Monk Shi, also known as Shi Luohan. Why, I'm a famous Arhat, as you can tell by my name. I've wandered alone all my life, sleapt alone too, and I'm not accustomed to company. Then you come along, you young punk, telling me what kind of a good person you are and climbing into my bed. You're a rotten shameless son of a bitch! If you're going to go, get out of here now. If not I'll take my stick and thrash the life out of you!" Then he rose and took that staff in hand. Now, our Bonze Dan was hungry and cold, and had no such weapon on him. He was afraid that if they came to blows he'd be no match for his opponent.

"My dear Teacher," he said ever so politely, standing all the while, "this poor monk is leaving."

"Rotten jackass priest!" shouted the self-styled arhat. "Why, you'd best get far away from me. If I ever again catch as much as a glimpse of you near me I won't be so forgiving!"

"Mercy, your honor; I don't dare!" pleaded Bonze Dan, his voice trembling with respect. Then, eyes on the old monk, he picked up his pack, backed away, wheeled and ran off.

In the darkness he had no idea where to go. Following his instincts he wandered into the forest where he spotted an enormous pine tree. It stood ever so gracefully, about a hundred feet tall. "The branches of this tree would make a fine place to rest," he thought; "only problem is how to climb up there." Then he thought of a plan. Tying that sack of his around his waist he leapt up onto a smaller tree next to the giant. Then he climbed it as far as he dared, reached out and groped for a branch of the pine, and swung himself over into its boughs. Going yet higher and higher he finally reached a fork large enough to nest in, and settled down as happy as a bird. Suddenly he heard something below, just as he'd made himself at home. Now, Bonze Dan had a keen eye. When he searched carefully by starlight he chanced to spot that itinerant arhat, brandishing his deadly staff.

What was more, he was pacing back and forth through the woods below, searching and muttering. "Where could that son of a bitch be?" he seethed, passing by. After a few terrifying moments he turned and went back, dragging his staff at his side.

Bonze Dan gave a sigh of relief, happy to have escaped his opponent's deadly hands. But it all had a stranger aspect to it. That old monk just sat by someone else's door, alone and not at all friendly. It would have been nice to have some companionship, so why the anger? There must have been something to make him so territorial. And after getting rid of Bonze Dan, why on earth did he go out looking for him again, worrying so nervously that he might still be around? There must have been a reason for this; could he have been a common thief or burglar? It's hard to imagine anything in this town being worth stealing! Anyway, let's get back to Bonze Dan, high up in that tree. For just as he tried to close his eyes and drift off, the pangs of hunger again flashed in his stomach and his insides began to growl.

"This night's really something," he grumbled; "if I can tough it out till morning how will I ever find the strength to climb down from here? And if I can't move once I'm down and I meet that armed monk I'll have to give up my life to him. I've heard that fairies can eat pines and cypresses... why, I'll take a lesson from them and try it." He then reached for the soft ripe brown tendrils on an overhanging branch, grabbed a handful and tasted them. They repelled him at first but they were fresh smelling. So he tried a little and it primed his appetite. Then, not distinguishing between coarse or soft, tendrils or needles, green or brown, branches or bark he slashed away at the tree and stuffed his mouth voraciously, as if afraid to drop a morsel in his frenzy. Finally he came to feel full inside.

Suddenly a fresh breeze blew, and upon it he heard someone's bitter crying from afar. "Strange," he thought, "this isn't exactly a busy thoroughfare...wonder what it's all about?" Lending an ear he found the sobs rending sorrowful, like those of a young wife; they were coming from three or four cottages yonder. "Why," exclaimed Bonze Dan, "it must be some crime that outlaw monk has committed!" Just then so swept away was he with anger and indignation that he forgot his own problems. How could he bear such an injustice before his very eyes? So let's sneak up ever so cautiously behind him and join him in exploring where the sound was coming from; we might as well give it a try. Now, what do we see but Bonze Dan taking his sack and lashing it to the tree, tying up his waistband and preparing to leap. And down he comes through the parted branches, to land solidly on his feet unscathed. Then shaking with resolve he walks out of the forest and strides off along the path to town.

Nearing the very same cottage as before he stealthily tiptoed up to peek beneath the eaves and found no sign of activity. Then he walked a bit closer and still saw nothing of the old monk. He even climbed atop the roof and straddled it, looking far and wide but there was truly no trace of him. But when he listened he indeed heard the sound of crying from inside. Bonze Dan became suspicious and pushed against the two old white wooden doors, ever so lightly. Now, the old monk had propped the door closed with his staff but it hadn't been set securely. The doors hadn't opened when he first tried so he pushed again a bit harder. Monk Shi's weapon fell with a clatter and the left door flew open. Now, this house had two inner courtyards and a closet-like shed. Both sides of the first court were lined with stacks of building bricks and lumber, and a few coarse pieces of furniture could also be seen; at the center was a bare pathway. The second court served as an inner sanctum and a cooking stove was situated in the small room on the left side. Old Monk Shi, stripped bare above the waist, had been at the cooker stoking the fire with which he would boil his rice for supper. Having heard the doors burst open he ran out to see what was happening.

The events that followed came with indescribable speed. First of all, when Bonze Dan first came in he had stepped on that staff, bent down and picked it up. Knowing that someone was coming he hid behind the lumber pile. In the darkness Monk Shi didn't discern as carefully as he otherwise might have. Seeing the main door open he dashed outside for a look. Meanwhile Bonze Dan took advantage of the lamplight from the kitchen and stealthily advanced toward the inner court. Now, here he had to be really careful. But just then in the shadows an old woman spotted our man.

"Oh, no!" she cried out, "another bloody arhat! We're doomed, doomed!" Hearing this, Bonze Dan immediately sensed that strange things had been happening. But just as he was about to go forth and investigate, there came the creaking of the main gate's right door opening up, and in came Monk Shi in a fighting pose. Bonze Dan beat a hasty retreat back to the lumber pile where he again lay down in an attempt at concealment. As he watched, Monk Shi advanced into the courtyard and turned toward the outside, bellowing like a crazed beast: "Who's got the nerve to come in here?"

Having yelled himself hoarse he then went down on his hands and knees to search for his fallen staff. He never guessed it had been taken up by Bonze Dan, who with this weapon at hand was really emboldened. He waited until Monk Shi was just where he wanted him, on all fours fishing around in the dark shadows. Then up out of ambush he leapt, the staff concealed behind him. Before the old man knew what was going on Bonze Dan whacked him on the crest of his skull with all his might, and he collapsed flat on the ground. Now he felt more fearless than ever and raising high the staff as a cudgel struck him yet again. Then he brought his right hand into play and drove home the stick yet again, with both arms and all of his might.

"Spare me, brother!" pleaded Monk Shi. Bonze Dan now knew that he held the upper hand. Clutching the staff in his left fist he held the old monk around the waist with his powerful right arm. Then he hoisted his hapless opponent high above his head and slammed him down upon the earthen courtyard floor. Why, that monk squealed just like a butchered pig! Bonze Dan stepped forward, lifted his right foot and set it squarely down on old Shi's chest.

"You thieving monk," he growled, brandishing a pair of enormous fists before his victim's face. Only then did Monk Shi realize that his attacker was that young bonze who had fallen into the river.

"My dear sir," he pleaded, "I've done wrong and I admit it, but please spare my life!"

"You thieving scoundrel," answered Bonze Dan. "I know you're notorious throughout the land as a fighter from the Shaolin Temple, but in fact you're a useless moron. Why, Shi Luohan means 'Stone Arhat' but even if you were an 'Iron Arhat' I'd be able to melt you down! You know, in front of the Yinghui Temple where I grew up there was a giant laundry stone and I pulverized it with just one of these fists. The first three times I bowed before your arrogance because I am after all a man of the cloth. But then you came searching for me in the woods, mumbling about what you intended to do with me. Come clean now and tell me quickly what you've done to make that woman cry! If you speak up quickly we can still talk, but if you hold back anything I won't be so kind. You'll have to experience the full fury of my fists, just like that laundry stone I smashed back home!" Then he cast down the staff, made a fist with his right hand and waited to strike.

That brigand monk was now terrified, unable to even breath freely with the victor's foot upon his chest.

"Oh Buddha, my Lord and Teacher," he pleaded with all of his remaining strength, "please let me get up and explain!"

"You thieving renegade priest, I guess you wouldn't dare run away if let up on you." But lifting his foot he suddenly heard a voice from the darkness of the nearby room.

"Kind Teacher, please avenge my poor family and don't let him up, whatever you do!" Bonze Dan recognized that voice as the one from shortly before, and when he firmly replaced his restraining foot and looked forward he saw an old white-haired woman, shoulders slumped and back bent with age, feeling her way into the darkened courtyard. Then facing him she repeatedly kowtowed and begged for revenge.

"You don't have to beg, Granny," he answered, "if there's a wrong to be righted speak right up and I'll be the judge!"

"This damned murderer took the lives of my daughter-in-law and grandson!"

Now, those words were all it took to stoke the flames of justice in Bonze Dan's breast; he stomped down heavily on his captives heart. The monk gave a cry and vomited forth fresh blood. Here's a poem:

Bonze Dan then removed his foot from his opponent's lifeless chest and went to help the old woman to her feet, asking her what had occurred.

"Have a look in there, Teacher," she said, pointing toward the open room. Fearing that the monk was only faking he gave him yet another few punches and a kick, but he just lay there stretched out, unmoving and silent, and Bonze Dan finally felt at ease.

Walking into the room he took the lantern that was hanging on the wall and had a look around. In the flickering light he saw a pot steaming away at a rolling boil, and when he lifted the lid he saw that it was full of the rice that the renegade monk had been cooking.

"Let's have these two bowlfuls of rice," he told the woman; "then we'll get back to business." He took a wooden paddle hanging over the stove and was just getting a porcelain bowl and a pair of willow chopsticks when his attention was riveted fiercely upon the form of somebody asleep in the corner, causing him to gasp deeply. Going forward for a look, the lamp's light revealed the grisly sight of what appeared to be the naked body of a housewife streaked with crimson, dead in a pool of blood. The old woman managed to feel her way over, in tears.

"What relation is this young wife to you?" he asked. "How did she die?"

"It's a long story," said the woman, pulling up a little stool and asking Bonze Dan to take a seat. "Please be patient cause I'm old and it's going to take me awhile to tell you this."

"Don't mind me," he said, listening to her tale while shoveling the rice into his mouth. "Tell me everything and I'll listen, I promise." She then squatted down on the bottom beam of the doorway and told him the story from beginning to end, without interruption.

"My surname is Xing, and the dead woman is my daughter-in-law. My son Xing Xiao tills the fields of this here Luojia Manor for a living. Now, because of our greedy county magistrate the village chiefs were all ordered to muster our men into work gangs to gather cinnabar. You've probably heard that cinnabar comes from Chenzhou but actually it isn't even a product of Qianyang County. It's really found in an old wellshaft, the Old Duck Well to be exact, over in Yongzhou. The shaft is none too large or promising to look at but if you gather some dry wood down there and start up a blaze the bluish stones it's lined with burst open and cinnabar comes out of them. Our farmers all customarily earn a living at the trade during the slack times. The town office pays them in silver through their bosses and the magistrate gets the cinnabar. The money our men get is given to their wives to manage and to hand out to the old folks and kids. Only this time my daughter was five months pregnant so I fed two mouths and took care of the household, even though I'm over seventy. A month ago when my son Xiao was still home his wife had a sudden bellyache and there was no doctor around for the emergency. Just then that old wandering monk showed up begging at our door and my son tried to tell him we couldn't give him anything just then 'cause we had an ill woman in the house. But the monk asked what kind of illness it was and my boy unfortunately told him about his wife's being five months' pregnant and in danger of miscarriage, with pains in her belly. Then that vagrant introduced himself as Monk Shi, an Arhat who could not only read the sutras but knew a bit about medicine as well. He had a herbal formula and said that if she'd take it her pains would stop and she wouldn't lose the baby. Well, my boy was at his wits' end so there was nothing to do but let him lay open his bundle. Then when his herbal medicines were boiled and swallowed down, my daughter's pain stopped. That day we treated him to a regular monk's banquet but he didn't want any money and left without any more fuss. We only talked about what a good person he seemed to be. Then yesterday he came back to beg. My daughter-in-law told him her husband wasn't in and to come back some other day. But he wouldn't leave and he started flirting with her. She ignored him and closed the door in his face, but he sat in the doorway reciting a sutra and didn't budge, until late at night. Then, when I'd dozed off and she was in the courtyard braiding rope by lamplight he made his move. He snuck quietly in the door, and knowing there weren't any men around rushed into the house. 'Don't make a sound a sound or I'll kill you' I heard him say and then he took her by force and violated her, and that was only the beginning! Then he made her boil him up a pot of hot water, saying he wanted a bath, and my poor daughter-in-law couldn't do anything but obey him, and I was too terrified to even move or make a sound. And then he told her to pour half of the boiling water into a pail...why, that son of a bitch didn't want a bath...and he made her swallow a white pill that he'd taken out of his bag, saying it would make her birth easier, but after she'd swallowed it she felt some pains in her belly. Then he took out two new straw sandals and soaked them in the pot. Then he told her he wanted to borrow something from her to make an Elixir of Eternal Life. 'When it's finished, one sip and we'll all soar as Immortals' I remember him saying. 'What exactly do you want from me?' I remember my daughter asking him. 'I want your five-month-old fetus!' he told her, and just then my blood ran cold. My daughter-in-law was terrified and begged forgiveness from Heaven for whatever she might have done to have such a thing happen to her. Then that damned murderer took his hands to her pregnant body again and tore her clothes off until she was bare naked, and he tied her hands and feet and pressed down on the wrinkled skin of her big belly and then splashed that hot water on it, kneading and rubbing it until my poor girl was in horrible pain and cried out again, three times in a row, by then wailing like for the dead but he still wouldn't relent. Then he took his straw slippers from the boiling pot and rubbed and pressed her belly with them until the poor little body of my grandson fell out, and my daughter-in-law had a mighty hemorrhage and up and died. All the time I was still frozen in terror and hid in back, speechless. I heard him shout out in glee that it was a male fetus after all. Then he scooped out some rice from the sack and cooked it and ate and left. And then you arrived so suddenly just like the strong arm of God's justice, giving evil men their due!"

"Where's the fetus now?" asked Bonze Dan.

"I reckon he wrapped it in a small bundle," she answered. Now, while the old woman had continued on for such a long time Bonze Dan had been hungrily wolfing down several bowls of rice, emptying the pot to its bare metal bottom. Putting aside the chopsticks and bowl our monk now searched the kitchen counter for the little cloth bundle and sure enough, lifting the lid of a kettle for a look he found it, a cloth skirt wrapped up and containing a roundish bloody little fellow and his afterbirth inside of its folds, and also a small purse with more than ten lumps of undenominated silver. There was a small cloth sack containing two cassocks, one with a flame design and one plain and straight, as well as clothes covered with star patterns. And there was another sack brimming over with a few cupfuls of wild rice. "I don't know if that Elixir of Eternal Life formula is for real or not," he thought, "or how such a medicine would be taken. But if it could cause a wicked crime like this it should be banned forever!"

Chanting "Amitofo" he then handed the remains of the fetus to the old woman. Upon seeing it she burst into tears and began to cry her eyes out. Bonze Dan then opened the purse and selected a few larger pieces of silver to give her, more than five or six ounces in all.

"Take this to give your daughter-in-law and her boy a proper funeral," he said, keeping the remainder for himself.

Already the sky was slowly brightening when Bonze Dan walked out into the courtyard. The body of the old monk lay lifeless, yellowing in death. He first removed the dead man's slippers and placed them on his own bare feet. Then he hooked his bundle with that iron staff and lifted it ceremoniously, proclaiming to one and all that the thieving monk was dead and order had been restored, and that he was leaving.

"Not just yet!" Pleaded the old woman.

"Why not?" he asked, stomping his feet petulantly.

"Well, you've saved me from one terrible danger but now you're leaving me with two corpses. Do you mind telling me how I'm supposed to deal with them all by myself?"

"You're right!" I'll carry the outlaw monk's body to the outskirts of town and dispose of it somehow." Then putting down the pole bundle and pole he seized the dead monk by the cassock with one hand, picked him up just like an ordinary rooster and carried him right out the gate and off into the forest. By now it was daylight and pretty soon Bonze Dan recognized the trunk of that pine tree where he'd rested the previous night. About to lay down the corpse at its roots and climb up to retrieve his sack he suddenly heard a loud voice in the distance.

"Hear ye, hear ye, a killer monk is on the loose and is burying his victim nearby!" someone seemed to be shouting. Then he caught sight of a patrol of villagers wearing backpacks and armed to their teeth with knives. They overtook him and shot right past like a flight of arrows, seemingly unseeing in their haste.

Unafraid and unruffled he laid out the corpse right there on the ground, climbed the tree and retrieved his sack. Suddenly the trunk of the tree and the body were surrounded by the armed villagers.

"I'm not a murderer," he shouted down, "but the killer of a thieving murderer! Please give me a break and let me come down to explain everything."

"Official search posse here, orders of the county magistrate!" Bonze Dan stiffened to attention. "We were gathering cinnabar over in Yongzhou until last night when we were called in and deputized. We've been up and out looking for you since before sunrise" one of them shouted up to him.

"Is there a man by the name of Xing Xiao among you?" asked Bonze Dan. "If so, I've got a message for him."

A short swarthy man came forward.

"I'm Xing Xiao, down here" he shouted up at our monk. Bonze Dan then pointed down at the corpse.

"Recognize this murdering monk? He was forever fated to be your blood enemy!"

Now Xing Xiao felt a thousand hammers pounding furiously at his heart and his face changed color.

"Explain what you mean by that!" he snarled, reaching up and clutching Bonze Dan's leg.

"It's like I said, but you still don't quite believe it. Your home isn't far, let's all go over for a look!"

Noting that Xing Xiao was indeed terrified they all agreed that a visit to his home would naturally make everything clear.

Thereupon they all fell in behind Bonze Dan on the road to the Xing family home. But although they were marching in step there were in fact three very different streams of thought amongst them. Bonze Dan for one was secretly delighted at the prospect of vindication and praise in the eyes of others, just like the helmsman of a junk about to successfully make harbor against the wind, his judgment and skill confirmed before a fearful crew. The members of the posse were for the most part like the audience at a play, full of conflict and puzzlement at the course of the drama before them and entirely uncertain of its eventual outcome. Lastly, Xing Xiao was absolutely terrified of what news might be awaiting him. His thoughts were already like those of a police inspector at the scene of a crime, filled only with retribution and totally devoid of reward or leniency, every word fishing for some incriminating knowledge. In a manner of speaking, one who's stolen from another's pot would know if the wine were hot or not!

As it happened the old woman Xing had become terrified when Bonze Dan left her, but somehow she mustered the strength to go to the shops and find a bedsheet to place over her daughter-in-law's corpse. Then moving slowly out the front door she spotted two heads in the distance, Now, she couldn't yet make out the entire group coming over the horizon but the space of her mind became full of hope and fear, only dreaming that Bonze Dan might be returning with some plan of action for her. She'd never have dreamt that her own son would be returning as well! Unseen to her failing eyesight Xing Xiao was the first to approach.

"Hey Ma," he shouted, "what are you doing outside, waiting for somebody? Where's my wife? Isn't she keeping you company?"

Upon recognizing her boy the old woman grabbed him and burst into tears.

"If you'd just come back a day earlier my lovely daughter-in-law probably wouldn't have been murdered by that Monk or Arhat Shi or whatever he called himself!"

"What are you saying?" her son asked incredulously.

"She died so hard!" bawled the old mother.

Then just as Xing Xiao entered the room to view the scene the others noisely arrived, pushing and shoving curiously and crowding round the griefstricken mother and son. And they got a clear view of the husband lifting the sheet to view his wife's body, then retreating to the back room to pound his chest and wail in unrestrained grief. The village men of that posse were all shocked and filled with sympathy and asked Bonze Dan how it had all happened.

"Wait till Brother Xing gets hold of himself," he answered, "and we'll have his old mother tell you all just what she told me."

The bereaved husband himself then spoke through his tears.

"Reverend, my mother is old and weak. Why don't you explain everything for us?" Bonze Dan then told the first part of the story, from his falling into the river down to his slaying of the renegade monk, and then went on to relate in fine detail all that the old mother Xing had told him. All throughout his account bitter tears continued to flow down Xing Xiao's cheeks and all were angrily gnashing and grinding their teeth as they listened.

Next the old woman came forth to angrily accuse her son.

"It was all your fault, she tore into him, "you listened to that thieving murderer monk and went for his creepy line about that herbal medicine of his preventing her from losing the baby, and that led to him breaking in here and doing all this! Your wife's fate was joined to yours and you let her down, why, it's just like you killed her all by yourself!"

"Now, now mother," one of the villagers objected, "there's no point in saying that. Just be glad this fine preacher came along when he did to avenge the wrong, and that the killer's eyes have rightly been closed on this world. Right now with a body lying in the forest and one resting here it doesn't make any sense at all, what's done is done. If there's any rice in the house let's eat it and be on our way to the County Magistrate's so our monk can give a complete account of his actions. And then while the Magistrate sends an inspector to the scene we can can come back with a coffin and at the same time give the body a proper lying in to hide the crime from the public. We don't want to give rise to rumors and turn this place into a county fair!"

"I've heard that the Magistrate is a crooked official," laughed Bonze Dan, "but if I say something like that I might end up being buried as well!"

"We certainly couldn't have that!" said Xing Xiao. And so they struck a fire and began cooking some rice. Each took a portion of pickled vegetables and went out to wait for the rice, and when it was ready they all ate their full.

Then his old mother gave Xing Xiao the silver, explaining where it had come from, and the son in turn thanked Bonze Dan. Somebody then asked old mother Xing to come along on the journey. Xing Xiao asked his mother to climb onto a small goat-pulled cart he'd arranged for, locked the gate and got one of his close friends to help him push from behind, while Bonze Dan picked up his two bundles on the ends of that staff and all set off together for the seat of Qianyang County.

A short while after their arrival at the night court of the county hall the Magistrate made his appearance. The group presented the wrapped fetus in evidence and gave a clear accounting of this tragedy among the local folk. The Magistrate appointed a panel of enquiry and delivered some words on the case which were duly recorded, and dispatched an assistant to inspect the scene of the crime. Down to the end there were no inconsistencies in the stories, and so his honor the Magistrate's verdict:

"Although the crimes of the itinerant monk Shi Toutuo were abominable he is now dead and there will be no further examination of his corpse. I command that a space be provided for burial. My office will provide assistance to Xing Xiao for a private funeral. Finally, it is determined that because the wandering monk Bonze Dan killed out of righteous indignation and anger he is not guilty. All others return to their homes, and if Bonze Dan should have any request while here in this county let him just speak up and it shall be granted."

After everyone had left the hall the Magistrate called our Bonze into the study in back, chasing away those already there and heaping exaggerated and condescending praise on him. Naturally he wanted something.

"I've got an important letter and gift parcel to send to a relative over in Qingyuanfu. It's a long and arduous road and there was nobody I could rely on to carry them it until I heard of your great righteousness and heroism, If you're willing to carry out this mission for me all sorts of rewards will be yours the day you return."

"What's one more journey to a wandering monk? replied Bonze Dan. "Why, I'll go wherever your excellency says and I won't fail you!"

The Magistrate was delighted. He called his assistant to take our monk to his new quarters in the Temple of the City God, along with a safe containing two strings of silver coin for the Wizard of that Daoist establishment, to help Bonze Dan bide his time happily until the day when his orders would arrive. Of course nobody told him that the Magistrate had been looting his own office of the entire take of gold, pearls and silver from the myriad trunks and baskets of the homes of Qianyang County.

Upon arrival at the Temple Bonze Dan and the official paid their formal respects to the Wizard and were then escorted to the reception hall. Our monk noticed the broken down building, the shabby condition of the rooms and even of the Wizard's gown. "Can't you get enough worshippers here?" he asked.

"Tomb visiting is brisk and worship attendance isn't bad either," the Wizard answered, but our monk just remained silent and expressionless. After tea the official handed the two strings of silver cash over to the Wizard with an admonition to do his best. The Daoist Wizard next received the three hundred coins earmarked for Bonze Dan's entertainment, and escorted the man out the door. He then asked Bonze Dan to enjoy some wine and meat and hurriedly despatched the Officer of Sacrifices to search all over town for provisions. Finally he set everything up in tip top shape for the party, arranged the screens in a bedroom and asked Bonze Dan to be seated there. Why, he even brought his own bedding to the room for the sake of his guest's comfortable rest. The feast began and Bonze Dan, eating and drinking to his heart's content, had a question.

"If tomb visits are so brisk and worshippers are pouring into here, why then does the Temple seem so hard-pressed and broken down?"

"That's all so true, and it's all because we've had some losses out the back door, so to speak... money we'll never again see."

"Could the County Magistrate be squeezing the Temple?"

The Wizard's face turned red and he didn't dare answer, while Bonze Dan continued:

"Being new here and not knowing him well, I agreed when the Magistrate asked me to stay here for a while and then carry a letter and gift to Qingyangfu. I don't know what kind of thing it could be, though. I've heard it said that he's a greedy official who gouges and fleeces the people. Sir, you are in a position to know the truth. Please don't be suspicious of me, tell me what's happening here and no harm will come of it. If I've really met up with a thieving dog, well, as a holy man perhaps it would be best if I didn't finish this job."

The Daoist heard the sincerity in these words and with his hands drew a loop of cash on a string.

"This," he declared, "is what his honor the County Magistrate really loves. Why, just talking about this here Temple, he takes ten strings of silver out of our worshippers' sacrifices no matter whether we've had a good month or not. When we haven't got a big enough boodle I've got to make up the difference out of my pocket, and if someone should give us some rice in charity the county snatches it right up. That's why we haven't got the means to fix these broken down buildings in here. He's already lopped off our bookkeeper's head on trumped up charges and now he's got even the tomb visitors paying into his fund. Now, although high authority usually commands respect, all this trickery and theft from the poor people is just inexcusable."

"Wherever he's from, whoever he's got in Qingyuanfu and however important that parcel is, I can't see why he needs a monk to carry it" answered Bonze Dan."

"He really is from Qingyuanfu," continued the Daoist, "town of Cixi. His surname's Hou and his given name is Mingzai, and he's been in charge here for the past four years. Every year he sends a certain portion of his booty home. I'm afraid it seems like this here mission of yours is for that very purpose. Last year he used the wrong sort of person, who was robbed while crossing Lake Dongting. I've heard that this time he's retained you, a Zen monk, to take an overland route. This magistrate was once a poor scholar but since taking office he's already sent home a few vaults of stolen treasure and his greed just grows and grows. Maybe he hopes this time his theft won't appear so barefaced if a Zen holy man brings the goods"

"So that's it" said Bonze Dan wryly.

"Now I've told you an awful lot, as you've asked me to. On your journey you mustn't ever speak of these things, not with his men, not with anybody! Do you understand?"

"My lips are sealed."

Then after eating and drinking his full the Daoist left his Zen visitor.

Bonze Dan was indignant. "Oh, these poor tenant farmers, why, he's asking me to carry away their stolen blood money. It's wrong, so wrong..." he thought as he nodded off to sleep, not to awaken until the drumming of the fifth watch. He then resolutely took up that staff and sack of his, walked right out the temple gate and slipped away in the darkness.

Next day the Wizard couldn't find his guest though he searched frantically. Finally he gave up looking and informed the Magistrate.

"It's a good thing I didn't get to actually entrust the goods to him," said the official. "These wandering monks are so unreliable!" And he didn't rebuke the Daoist but only hounded him for the return of the two strings of cash. The poor priest, having spent it all entertaining his guest as instructed, was then forced to scrape together the money, begging and borrowing all three hundred coins of it.

Some time after these events the Magistrate managed to make some well placed bribes and was thus appointed mayor of the capital city of Kaifeng, a world capital, and his family erected an ancestral temple back in the county. But after leaving to take up his new duties the people of his home district rose up and entered that temple at midnight, broke his idol off its legs and dumped it into a pit of manure. And at that very moment on a highway in the capital, Magistrate Hou's horse reared in fright and threw him to earth, breaking his legs and killing him. And so we can see that God's law will never fail, and that is the moral of this tale. Here is a poem that tells it well:

To continue with our story, Bonze Dan left Qianyang County and Sizhou that very day, and again wandered through the Xingnan region of Hubei. He once more enjoyed the dramatic mountains and lakes as he came upon them, reveling in their glorious beauty, until before he knew it another year had passed. Seeing the red of Li Bo's peaches, the yellow of the early plums and the purple of the apricot leaves he suddenly remembered his original purpose. Procuring many big sheets of purest white paper, he then returned to his straw hut at the foot of Mt Dream-of-the Clouds. Upon settling in he numbered the blank sheets before wrapping them ever so neatly in that fine sewn cloth of Shi Toutuo's, and then went for a bath in a sparkling clear mountain pool.

When the Duan Wu Day once again dawned he rose early, ate his bellyful of baked rice and lashed his kit together in tip top order for the mission, only to see the mountaintop hidden in dark cloud with sheets of heavy rain lashing the hut. "This sure isn't my idea of fair weather" he thought. "This kind of rain doesn't fall everyday, it seems it's been served up just for me!"

Well, all he could do was stay in that pine hut, face the sky and kowtow earthward while praying to Heaven. "If I'm indeed fated to see the face of Heaven's writings, I beg thee to harvest up the clouds and rain and let the round, red sun shine through!" And lo and behold, after much watching and waiting, by the time the sundial's shadow had passed nine o'clock the rain had already stopped. Our monk was immensely pleased, picked up his neatly wrapped paper, shouldered his staff and sack and was off. Now as this was his third attempt the way was really familiar. He pressed right on through that mountainside swamp, over the high crags and precipices and then plunged confidently into the sudden fog, only afraid of being too late. Throwing himself blindly forward he finally arrived at the stone bridge over that deadly chasm. Now, when Bonze Dan set his eyes on the narrow span he drew up short in fright. For this bridge was made of the smoothest polished gemstone, and after the rain it was as slippery as if coated with oil. Even one short step at a time he couldn't hope to get a foothold on it.

"Wasn't the bridge itself the source of this local fog?" I hear one of you asking. Well, there are things that I, your narrator, can't say for sure. But your usual fog is the rising qi of earth, not an effect of heavenly qi; its mists swirl and form wildly, wetting our clothes with its dew and coating stone with its droplets without evaporating. But this White Cloud Cave's fog came from the Curtain of Fog and was of the dry sort. Obviously it was all a mirage, real from afar, nothing at all up close. It was only because of the rain that the bridge was now wet and slippery.

Well, even if it were only three or four feet across that was one long distance under those conditions, even with the surest and steadiest of tread! And the inestimably deep gorge awaiting below seemed to be smiling, almost laughing at him hungrily! It was like this:

Under these kind of circumstances it sure seems as though he's he's going to come up short yet a third time. But needless to say, human ingenuity might yet rise to the challenge of the fog and rain.