Now as Fate would have it Bonze Dan rested in the grass hut at the foot of Mt Dream-of-the-Clouds, just waiting for the fifth day of the fifth lunar month when the fog would clear and he'd get a chance to enter White Cloud Cave and steal the sorcery charms. It was only the first week of April and with the Dragon Boat Festival a full month away he was understandably impatient and fidgety. And although he was thoroughly bent upon learning the secrets of sorcery he still had his doubts, fearing that what the monk had said was just idle gossip. He had no way of knowing, but if it were indeed false where then had all that fog come from? He often clambered up the trail to a nearby peak for a look but saw only a vast ocean of white cloud below; he had no idea of what the terrain that lay below it even looked like.

One day after supper he drank some wine that he'd managed to procure. "I've heard," he told himself, half drunk, "that fog doesn't affect drunks. Why, with my head holding up the sky and my feet planted firmly on the earth, what do I have to fear from this Yuan Gong or from his old lady for that matter? Dragon Boat, Phoenix Boat, who gives a damn; why wait? I ought to just go in and demand the holy books, and that's that!"

And so Bonze Dan staggered to his feet, walked into the wall of fog and disappeared from view. Before he could get one li, however, the blanket became so thick and concentrated that he couldn't even open his eyes. It was all he could do to turn around and get out of there, but he became suddenly aware that the monk had indeed been telling the truth. He simply had to wait it out.

When the day of the Dragon Boat Festival finally arrived and the sundial indicated nine in the morning, sure enough the fog began to lift. In half an hour it had all burned off and the weather became clear and crisp.

"Shame on me for having doubted it," he happily exclaimed, "it's just like the story said after all! This really is my day!" And so he put on a pair of quiet hemp slippers, took up a brown sandalwood staff and fairly flew off on his quest.

After traveling two or three li the scenery began to change, with jagged threatening slopes and topsy-turvy boulders above and marshes below; the trail became overgrown and indiscernible. But beneath his feet he spotted an ongoing silky thread. It seemed a safe guide so he followed it ever onward into the bush. Before he'd gone another ten li, sure enough he came to a narrow stone bridge, over twenty feet long but barely a foot wide, spanning a terrible chasm. And far below the bridge boiled the roaring torrents of a cascading stream, with rocks and boulders as fierce as swords and cudgels. When Bonze Dan first saw it he was scared white, but with a little rationalization his fear dissolved; having come this far how could he ever retreat? Life and death are, after all, predestined, so what was there to be afraid of? Riveting his eyes straight ahead and calling up all of his spleen he boldly strode across, oblivious to the plumes of vapor and spray that floated up on either side from the maelstrom below.

On the other side there was indeed a stone cave and above its mouth were engraved the three characters for White Cloud Cave. And when he entered he beheld a huge plot of farmland, miraculously lit from above. Just look at this:

Now Bonze Dan simply couldn't get enough of the outstanding scenery and indulged his fancy just a bit too long. When he walked into the cave he came to a miniature mountain peak inside a sunlit chamber. At its foot was a white jade burner, ever so pure and lustrous in appearance. "Such things," he thought, "not to mention the Daoist secrets hidden here, are beyond men's wildest dreams. My being here is a blessing from a previous life, no doubt."

He then climbed up the pile of rocks and played there to his heart's content. Suddenly a fragrance touched his nostrils. "Strange" he thought. Then he saw a ribbon of smoke rising ever so delicately from the incense burner. Fear shot through Bonze Dan's very bones. "It must be past noon," he cried, "and the White Ape God has returned." Down he leapt from the miniature peak, not daring to look back. He backtracked out of the cave and broke into a run, forgetting his sandalwood staff in the rush. Getting back to the stone bridge he saw a curtain as white as snow settling down; the fog was swirling back. In his haste he tripped and almost plunged into the violence below. Fortunately he regained his footing and made it across, and this emboldened him. He lengthened his stride and in a short while ran ten li. And when he finally looked back he saw only a thick fog, obscuring Heaven and Earth and hiding the cave entrance as of old.

Returning to his grass hut he sat for over an hour catching his breath. "How bitter," he sulked, "to have been tempted by that scenery without getting any real information. I still don't know if those writings are even in there. It was like gazing at the moon while passing up a treasure right under my eyes, and it's a full three hundred and sixty-five days to the next Dragon Boat Festival; how will I endure the wait?" Then he reflected for a moment.

"The first time out I was green," he thought. "Next time around I'll be a seasoned veteran, and I won't be looking at any scenery, that's for sure. I'll run right into that White Ape God's bedchamber and by golly no matter how many of those heavenly books he's got hidden I'll carry them all out of there, and I'll choose what I want later at my leisure. That'll be great!" From then on he rested his heart and mind and took up a long vigil. And he gave up the hut for a new calling: begging alms everyday, everywhere throughout the land.

One day he arrived at a place called Yongzhou. In that district is the Stone Swallow Mountain and the Wu River; each has got something mysterious about it. What do I mean by that? Well, the myriad fragments of rock which, when piled up, comprise that mountain form the outline of a swallow. In fact, when viewed from afar on a rainy day it really appears to be a swallow in flight. Of course climbing the mountain and actually trying to get a hand on the soaring bird reveals it to be just so many rocks. What's more, when the wind and rain cease the swallow then seems from afar to be resting.

As for the Wu River, on the face of one sheer cliff is a naturally inlaid Mirror of Stone, fifteen inches high and three feet wide and thick. Pitch black like obsidian, it allows us to see almost like true life anything that is reflected upon it, a truly extraordinary quality. Although it can't be compared with the "Spleen Viewing Stone" of Qin, which could reveal one's internal organs, you can still count your every hair and whisker in it just as if it were made by the finest craftsman. As Bonze Dan loved these sights he stayed in Yongzhou for awhile.

One day, when he visited the Wu River Gorge for another look he couldn't find the Mirror of Stone in its usual spot. There was only an empty hole in the stone face where it had been. Looking and listening in alarmed surprise, he heard the ringing of a royal carriage bell and the sound of a large group of men on horseback galloping forth. From behind the trunk of a large pine, Bonze Dan managed to peek down and see a young nobleman with red lips and healthy white teeth, astride the leading horse. Upon his head was a Jinshi degree-holder's turban of the Tang style and he wore a Wuling Daoist's gown. He rode a pumpkin colored horse, followed by more than ten servants. The young noble dismounted and walked to the cliffside. Looking at the empty hole above, he was pointing skyward and drawing vigorously on the ground with a stick; what he was telling his men couldn't be heard from the tree. Then along came four sturdy farmers, hauling and shouldering a large black piece of stone.

"It must be," thought Bonze Dan, "that the young lord has taken away the Mirror of Stone. Now, true to form, he's scandalizing folks by replacing it with a piece of rock!" He watched as the yeomen lifted it up the face of the cliff.

"Make more use of the ropes" shouted the group below, "don't let go, whatever you do!" Then the entire entourage dismounted and rushed forward to pitch in and help. There were men above and below, pulling on the ropes and pushing desperately, while others helped with the block and tackle, jacks, and levers. In less than an hour the stone was hanging in front of its recess and the group relaxed from their labors for awhile. Then a rope was slowly tightened and the stone then settled neatly in place. The men below gave shouts of joy and relief. Why, that black rock had all along been the Mirror of Stone!

Now this young nobleman was surnamed Leng. He was the son of Xueshi degree-holder Leng of this district. Although handsome, folks thought him mean and harsh, especially toward servants. As a result he was nicknamed "Skinflint Leng". And there was a farming village within five li of this place called Lengjiazhuang, the Leng Family Village. Now, this young Master Leng loved the Mirror of Stone with all his heart, and suddenly one day ordered his people to climb up and fetch it back to the village. Who would have imagined that this mirror had a spirit residing in it, and that once removed from the cliff it would fail to give off even the faintest glimmer of light, just like the dullest charcoal? But as they returned it to its old place and set it into the cliffside recess it again shone as of old. When this happened the assembled men had cheered, and when Bonze Dan stuck out his neck for a better look he was suddenly spotted by young Master Leng.

"You, monk over there!" shouted the young master, "Are you some kind of sneakthief waiting to pounce on travelers?"

Bonze Dan could only come out of hiding and offer a meek explanation. "I bow to thee," he replied; "I'm a poor monk from Sizhou, out to visit the famous peaks of every county. I wandered into this fine place quite unaware of your Excellency's presence, and I failed to leave when I first saw you. I'm sorry for my rudeness."

The young master's men were indignant.

"This vagrant monk is really insolent," one complained; "not kowtowing even once before our master."

Bonze Dan was lost for words but fortunately Master Leng spoke up.

"Men and women of the cloth may disperse with such rituals," he said, "but may I with all due respect ask your name, how long you've been here in this shabby place of ours and where you've been putting yourself up for the night?"

"Your humble priest took his vows at the Yinghui Temple on Mt Yinghui, and is known as Bonze Dan. It's been about a month since I arrived here and I haven't bothered to drop in on any monastery. I've been living in the wild and sleeping out under the stars."

"Such a chance meeting is rare indeed," said the young master; "it must have been fated. Our humble village is a short distance away. Please honor us with a visit and a vegetarian meal in our midst. You will come, won't you?"

"Many blessings for your heartfelt charity," answered Bonze Dan, accepting the invitation. Thereupon young Master Leng mounted the lead horse, directed two of his men to accompany our monk, and they slowly returned home.

By and by the two servants spoke up to their charge.

"It's Daoism that our master likes," said one; "he doesn't believe in the power of Buddhists. He's never before invited any bonze, nor has he ever given a cent in alms to them. But today he's invited you to our village for a solemn meal and shown you complete respect. Such treatment is really precedent making!"

"What's the surname of your clan's old master?" asked Bonze Dan.

"He's named Leng, you know, the character between Xin and Kan in the Book of the Hundred Surnames. Our clan's patriarch is presently at Court, serving as a scholar in the National Hanlin Academy. He fathered only this one son who stays home and studies all the time. The boy's just recently taken a mistress from among the village girls."

While they were talking they arrived. Sure enough, before Bonze Dan's very eyes stood the fine little village of Lengjiazhuang. It was like this:

Bonze Dan arrived inside the great hall and was ever so politely greeted by young Master Leng. "How long have you been a man of the cloth?" he asked. "You look like a youngster; how old are you?"

I'm only nineteen, and I've been under vows since childhood."

"And what was your worldly surname? It's hard to believe you've had that name of yours since birth."

"Oh, I was raised by the bonzes and I've never known my real kin. Dan may mean egg, but that's my name all right."

"I've heard," said Master Leng, "that those fated to rise as high as the starry crown of the Ruler of Heaven must be either Buddhist or Daoist. Your having been in a monastery since childhood is surely fated. Well, you're nineteen now; what was the exact date of your birth?"

"Your humble monk was taken into the temple within a month of birth. Folks say it must have been November, for the scenery was that of late fall or early winter. Nobody knows exactly when I was born."

At this point a servant entered. "The sacred feast is prepared," he declared; "where shall it be served?" Master Leng drew in his breath through his teeth and reflected for a moment.

"Bring it to the Lotus Boat," he ordered. Then he arose and addressed Bonze Dan. "Will you step into the rear garden, dear priest, and partake of our meal?"

"Why, thanks a lot" replied our monk.

"Oh," said the young master sheepishly, I forgot to ask a second ago, but, well, will you dare to try a little meat or wine?"

"There's nothing against it in the Ten Precepts, now, is there?" answered Bonze Dan.

"No wonder you've grown so stout and tall," laughed Master Leng. "Well, come to think of it, it's a good thing you came to our little hamlet." And he ordered a servant to bring some ready-cooked fish and meat and to warm a vessel of wine, to be consumed with the ordinary "monks' food". "I have a rather mundane affair to take care of," he then told Bonze Dan, "so I'll take leave of you for the time being."

"Don't worry about it," answered our monk, "I'm really grateful for all this."

Thereupon Master Leng made his exit and Bonze Dan followed the servants along a serpentine path into the rear garden. Now, this garden had a fishpond several mu in size, and standing right in the middle were three junk-shaped pavilions, placed as if sailing in formation; lotuses were floating all around them. It being late autumn there weren't any blossoms, only some dead leaves strewn across the surface of the pool. On one of the pavilions was a horizontal stone tablet reading "The Lotus Boat", with an inscription by national examination third place medallist Feng Zhengti. By the water's edge were three large halls, surrounded by luxuriant bamboo. In front of these halls stood a "Moon Festival Pavilion", built out of large stones; it formed a pier, with a small rowboat of a ferry moored at its base.

The servants led our Bonze Dan down into the little boat, cast off the line and poled the vessel over to the great stone Lotus Boat Pavilion, where they helped him to disembark. Then, as before, they returned to shore. When Bonze Dan looked, why, sure enough it was just like a boat, with each compartment separated by railings and bulkheads, and all were open to him.

On the first level was a room to seat a small number of guests, while on the next there were a few people at work behind the scenes arranging tables, chairs and utensils. Along the sides of the hall were spotted bamboo curtains hung from lacquered beams of bright vermilion. And on the third floor was a small chamber. Each of its walls had cool paper summer windows and a small bed was fixed in the center; obviously it was a bedroom. "He's invited me to a monk's feast," thought Bonze Dan ever so darkly, "but one can eat anywhere. Why did he have to take me out into the middle of this lake? I dare say he's afraid I might get away before I can 'enjoy' his 'favors'. It's easy to see that he's a nonbeliever! Why the nerve of him treating me like this! What does he think he's doing, ordering me to starve at sea?" But just then he hesitated, seeing two servants. One held covered serving plates and the other was poling that little boat back to the Pavilion. Presently several courses were placed upon the table in the hall. There were bowls of dried and salted goose meat as well as pork shoulder and knuckles and fresh fish. Then there were bowls of dried bamboo shoot, beancurd deep fried with mushrooms, lentils and beanpaste. All told there were four vegetarian courses and four of meat. There was one large kettle of wine and a tin bowl of rice as well.

"Wow," shouted Bonze Dan as he scrambled over to the banquet table and began to slurp down the meal, indulging himself brashly. The domestics waited for him to finish, then they tidied up, wiped the table clean and waited.

"Where's your clan's leader," asked the monk, "I'd like to bid my farewells before leaving."

"We haven't heard from the Master," the servants replied; "we suppose he wants you to stay the night, eh?" The domestics then left the Lotus Boat Pavilion, leaving Bonze Dan alone to watch them pole the small boat back to shore. "Stay the night..." he repeated over and over, "What could he possibly have in mind? Well, I'll wait patiently and see what happens next."

Evening came and the two servants returned by the ferry carrying bedding and snacks for bedtime tea. One set up the tea and implored their guest to partake of the treats while the other made the bed and proclaimed the chamber fit for the night; they then once more left the Lotus Boat. "I'll get a fine night's sleep and hassle it out tomorrow," thought Bonze Dan before he nodded pleasantly off.

The night passed without incident. At daybreak the two servants returned with hot and cold water and set up a breakfast service, ever so carefully laying forth two dishes each, vegetarian and meat.

"I've done nothing to deserve such a feast," said Bonze Dan; "I really must leave now!"

"Our master still has a few things he'd like to discuss with you," answered the servants. "He can't find any free time just now so he's told us to take good care of you and not to hurt your feelings. You're to stay and enjoy yourself for a few days."

Bonze Dan was nonetheless irritated and he began to show it. "If your master has something to say, why not come right out and tell me what it's all about? Then at least my mind will be at ease during my stay."

"How can we mere subordinates understand what's on our master's mind? Are you afraid of the dark? Want some companionship? You needn't hold back... just tell us and the woman or girl of your desires is yours; that's a small matter. Why, last year our master entertained an Original Nature Daoist right here in this Pavilion, where he lectured on your yin yang modulation sorcery. He needed a girl every night, so our master called over some real professionals to satisfy his desire and lecherous tastes. The things he did to those women, and to think, he continued the bedlam for over a month before moving on to Luoyang! He said something about returning this year, but thank heavens, we've seen neither hide nor hair of him so far."

"I've got no intention of violating my vows of chastity," said Bonze Dan, "and I assure you I'm not afraid of the dark! But there is one thing. If I may further intrude on our master's graces, could I possibly be free to leave the Pavilion and wander around in the garden? That would really help me feel better."

One of the servants pointed to the mansions on shore and spoke: "Master's new bride lives in a new room behind that building. Aside from her maids and personal attendants no outsiders are allowed in there." Bonze Dan took this in silence.

Now to digress for awhile let's get back to young Master Leng. Although his family was old, distinguished and wealthy, lechery and drunkeness weren't among its vices. But there was a family Courtyard of Immortality, and a certain weakness for sorcerers, wizards and witches and their heterodox crafts. As for the Courtyard, acclaimed sorcerers were brought there from all over the land; all were welcome. Now it so happened that, a few days before Bonze Dan's arrival, the eldest son of the neighboring county's Privy Councilor Wang sent over a man with his personal recommendation, named Feng Jingyan. He claimed that he could see the spirits with his own eyes and that he had supernatural skill at sorcery. How formidable soundling!

In Han times a sorcerer was said to have carved wooden men with clubs and buried them in the ground. Then at night he would sacrifice, and curse whomever he wished to destroy. The wooden men would come alive, leave their resting place in the earth, and attack that person. And during the last years of the Tang there was Gao Pian's lieutenant, Lu Hongzhi, who served at the time of Huang Chao's revolt when Heaven withdrew its favor of the Dynasty. Why, he cast a small statue of his boss, covered its eyes and ears, placed it in a wicker box and buried it under his bed. Then he used it to place a spell on the trusted General Gao, making him sick and disoriented under his exclusive control.

The wizardry of our present-day Feng Jingyan, however, is yet another thing entirely. When he wishes to haunt somebody he merely sets up a sacrificial altar in some secluded place, then he offers up something to the spirits. Next, he draws a large circle on the earth before the altar. In the circle he places a porcelain jar containing the accursed one's full name, native district and year, month, day and exact time of birth. Then he writes and chants his magic charms at the altar, and snatches up the living hun essence of the unfortunate individual's soul. If he doesn't succeed at once he continues for three, five, even seven days. When the hun essence is finally captured it's only fourteen inches long with a face and bearing no different from those of its unfortunate owner. Then, if he were to enter the chalk circle and snatch up the little fellow and place it together with a spirit tablet into the jar, and if he were to seal it up and bury it, the afflicted owner would up and die without delay. Here's a poem:

Now, the lines of this poem indicate that life and death are fated by Heaven. If some evil spirit is invoked to cause a death, there is still the matter of the victim's fated allotment of days remaining unfulfilled. Folk proverbs such as "A curse on the devil" written at the coffin's head say it well. And there's another famous saying: "Better an untimely death than a life filled with hatred". But if a person is so blessed as to have happily lived out all of their allocated days, even a direct hit by a thunderclap won't awaken them from the slumber of death. And if one's fated days aren't so long or if one is destined to die young, it wouldn't be fitting to consider such a fate tragic, or to honor such a person with a memorial. That's just the way things go. But enough of this prattle!

Now, Young Master Leng had heard that Feng Jingyan was expert at sorcery and was eager to learn from him, but as of yet he had no idea if the man's legendary skills were for real. So encountering Bonze Dan, a freebooting monk without any kin, he coldheartedly invited him into his home with the hope of using him in a test of Feng's magic. He'd already learnt our monk's name and native district but there was still one small problem: the year and month of his birth were known, but not the date or exact time. And so he sent a man over to fetch Feng Jingyan so that they could discuss this.

"If you don't know the time of birth," advised Feng, "an article of his clothing and a sample of his hair or fingernails will do just as well."

"That's easy," said Master Leng. And he instructed his servants to take some cloth and make a new garment for the monk. On the pretext that their family patriarch would be angered if the bonze's clothes weren't clean he also ordered the old garment taken away, cleaned and starched afresh. Then he told a barber to give our monk a haircut and shampoo and to preserve the clippings without fail.

Now, Bonze Dan took these as kind favors and happily accepted. In fact, even the servants didn't know what was on their master's mind. And so they told him to discard his lower garment and took it together with some of his hair to young Master Leng, who was exceedingly thrilled with his success. Then he and Feng Jingyan went off to a rice warehouse on the east side of the estate where they prepared an altar in accordance with Daoist lore, complete with paper horses, incense candles and the like.

They then assigned two of the youngest servants to guard the place, to keep the door locked and prepare three meals daily. And should any servants or kinsmen call, the pages were to open the lock and receive them politely and apologetically, under no conditions letting them inside for a peek. Such was the secrecy that neither man nor beast nor even fowl could know of it!

But it came to pass that Feng Jingyan was unable to inflict a spell of death upon our monk, although certainly not through any lack of enthusiastic effort. Of course he was in for a grand reward if he could present Master Leng with some proof of his claims. Anyway, here's what happened!

He took a broad sheet of paper and wrote a supernatural command on it, to snatch up the living "hun" essence of one Bonze Dan of Sizhou who had taken his vows at Yinghui Temple on that city's Mt Yinghui and who was fated to wander into this place. Then he gathered up some hair clippings into a neat little package and wrote down some hun pursuit charms on the garment that our monk had worn against his flesh. These he placed together in a clean vase. In front of the altar he took some lime and made a large circle; in it he put the above urn and its contents. Then Feng Jingyan burned incense thrice daily and prayed nightly before the altar, writing charms and chanting. He treaded the cosmic winds of High Heaven and stood within the Holy Palace of the Polestar until the second or third watch of every night.

Now, this was all without effect until the third night, when Bonze Dan began to feel a slight headache and temperature. By the fifth day he was stricken and bedridden. Then Feng Jingyan noticed some black ethereal substance beginning to swirl outside the circle, and at once he knew it to be the restless, drifting hun essence of Bonze Dan's soul. Next day, he sent young Master Leng to check up on the monk. Hearing that Bonze Dan had been stricken, he then applied all of his skill and wisdom, and redoubled his efforts with genuine enthusiasm.

After sunset on the seventh day the movements of that black essence of soul became increasingly agitated, swirling like a tiny tornado on the border of the chalk circle. Then finally, by the third watch, sure enough it congealed into the form of a midget Bonze Dan, only fourteen inches tall, now advancing, now retreating, hovering just outside the circle. Now Feng Jingyan, eyes bright with excitement, picked up his wand and waved it threateningly toward the altar table, incanting:

And then saying no more he only watched in horror and amazement as the miniature Bonze Dan dove into the circle and began to bore like a drill right into the sealed urn. This was going too far! And as soon as the dervish penetrated the vase a sudden dark squall arose at the altar, with the flashing and crashing of lightning and thunder. The vessel then shattered, and at that very moment fresh blood spurted from the mouth of Feng Jingyan who then fell dead before the altar. The poor fool! His entire pathetic life spent as a sorcerer, and he kills himself without ever having successfully harmed anyone. Indeed, he was the victim of his own magic, and here's a poem about it:

And later people have another poem:

Young Master Leng was felled at once by fright but returned to his senses quickly. He ordered the two pageboys, each barely ten years old, to wail and cry bitterly without cease. Then he himself sprang forth and unlocked the door, calling his servants to come and remove the corpse before the altar. Come the next morning he bought a coffin and provided for a lavish laying-in. Then he wrote a letter to Privy Councilor Wang's son, informing him only that Feng had taken ill and died. At the same time he sent some of his men to spy on Bonze Dan.

Now as it turned out, our monk had suddenly recovered after a cold sweat had poured forth from his entire body. The young master felt very disappointed, and although the plot still remained secret without much chance of discovery he still couldn't bring himself to look Bonze Dan in the eye. So he called the servants who had originally brought the clothes to take two ounces of silver to the monk, to wake him and see him off on his way. He'd made up his mind to drive Bonze Dan far away and to never, ever see him again. Now, our monk only suspected that he was being thrown out because of illness. He had no idea that he'd been so harmfully exploited in that unfortunate misadventure in witchcraft, or that his life had been so endangered. so he accepted the silver with smiling grace and profuse gratitude. Then he bowed his shiny, shaved head, took some meat for the journey, put on his new jacket and most happily set forth from the village of Lengjiazhuang to roam the world as before.

Now it so happened that when Privy Councilor Wang's son received the Leng family's letter he returned a note of condolences at once. And of course he had to inform the Feng clan. When the late sorcerer's survivors, including his wives, children, parents and myriad dependants got this news they immediately formed a veritable army of mourners, and descended as one on the village of Lengjiazhuang, carrying a coffin and wailing in grief.

Unable to stand it, and knowing full well that there was no way to come right out and handle this thing above board, the young master sent for a local shyster to officiate over the distribution of the funeral money and the reimbursement of the family members for their traveling expenses. Now, among the mourners was an odious, slippery character who had a few words alone with the master of ceremonies and then pocketed all of the cash himself. Still, our young Master Leng took responsibility for this and saw the whole costly affair through to the end. By the time the coffin had been carried off and some semblance of peace and quiet had returned, it had all cost more than ten lumps of silver. Now, young Master Leng had been a tightwad all of his life, forever calculating and scheming how to bleed money out of others while saving his own. He felt like a small shopowner forced to sell far below cost and it hurt him to the bone. The neighbors and townsfolk had long known him as a notorious skinflint and chiseler, as well as a member of the gentry and official class. They didn't dare say a word or stare at him but they had many a good laugh-- behind his back, of course. Anyway, what's done is done; there's no use in locking the barn door after the horse has run away.

Getting back to Bonze Dan, well, he kind of wandered around idly for awhile and a year flew by before he knew it. To tell the truth, he first became aware that another spring had arrived when he noticed the sun high overhead at noon; it definitely seemed like the fifth month again. He'd returned a month before to the foot of White Cloud Cave, completed a roof for his hut and lived much as before. Only this time he ate lentils. From the beginning he refused to beg alms and never left his shelter, where he just sat and cultivated his spirit.

On the day of the Dragon Boat Festival he got up early, laid out his knives, picks and ropes and put them, along with a folded jacket, into a small rucksack. Then he put on a pair of hemp slippers and waited. Sure enough, as noon approached the curtain of fog departed. Nearing the cave site the remaining fog suddenly thickened but this was no cause for alarm. It was his second time, and as he went on his confidence grew by leaps and bounds. He leapt across that stone bridge and dashed right into the mouth of the cave, not caring in the least to look at the scenery. He went directly to that stone summit where the white jade incense burner sat. Now, the chamber in which the peak stood was made of heavenly stone and was about the size of five or six ordinary folks' houses. It was empty, absolutely devoid of any furnishings, and in the rear was a tiny passageway. Bonze Dan entered this smaller cave, thinking that it had to be where the White Ape God's writings were hidden. Ducking his head, he pressed on into the cavern. It was like this: