morning when I get up, I drink two catties. After I eat breakfast, I drink another two catties. After I eat the evening meal, I drink two more catties. If I get up in the night, I do not drink.”
“Then you just go to bed after the evening meal?” asked Zhang the third.
“I jump into the wine jar and soak myself,” said the monk. “If I do not soak myself, I cannot satisfy my habitual thirst.”
He then drank the thirty pints given him by Zhang the third. There was a pause in the conversation after all this explanation, and the eight headmen also had a drink.
When they arrived at the gate of Prime Minister Qin’s residence, the servants, who thought that the prime minister should be given a little time until his anger had cooled, detained them.
Headman Zhou announced, “We are here, we are here!” and led Ji Gong into the residence. He looked around at the awe-inspiring surroundings.
Along the winding corridors were cases
Made to contain the great man’s curios.
Within were pairs of hollow white jade vessels
Carved in the shape of Chinese unicorns.
Beside the door of the great hall, a man-made grotto,
Crafted of curious stones from distant places,
Enclosed beneath the vault of its most spacious cavern
A chair with wheels, a chair of great antiquity,
Encrusted everywhere with precious coral.
In such a chair an emperor might ride
Or a noble’s mother pushed by her filial son behind,
For it was clearly made for ceremony.
Embowering, but not concealing it, there was
A standing screen of pierced and sculptured lacquer
In color and brightness like the wings of kingfishers.
Closely crowded everywhere among the fine embroideries
Gleamed treasures from ancient ruined dynasties,
Like jewels spread out upon the richest tapestry,
Gifts from the palace of the emperor
Proclaiming Chin to be that reign’s prime minister.
Headman Zhou led Ji Gong into the interior. There, Headman Zhou would make his report, and there the lohan would exercise the arts of Buddha and make manifest their powers.
As Ji Gong was led further into the residence by Headman Zhou, he saw that the old master of the temple, together with the superintendent, the attendant, and some others were standing along the veranda. When the monk arrived in front of the summerhouse, he did not kneel as the others had. Prime Minister Qin looked out at him through the bamboo blind and now realized that he was only a poor, ragged Buddhist priest.
Prime Minister Qin slapped the table before him loudly as he spoke. “You have a lot of gall for a crazy monk! I sent my household people to the temple to borrow some large timbers in a friendly way, not acting as if they were carrying out official duties. But you dared to use your demonic arts and beat my managers. Tell me the truth!”
The monk then wanted to explain how the managers had wanted to tear down the Great Memorial Pagoda, and how he had told them not to, and how the fight had started—but of these things he did not speak. Instead the monk said, “Oh great man, you still ask me! You hold the office of prime minister established by the three great councils, an office in which one should promote goodness, perform virtuous deeds, and bring about general prosperity. Now, without reason, you tear down and destroy buildings on Buddhist land—the more I think of it, the more my anger as a monk rises. Let the great man have me thrown down and given forty strokes of the bamboo and then ask again!”
When Prime Minister Qin heard these words, he broke into a rage and said, “What a brave, crazy priest! How do you dare to criticize a great minister? Come! You two from the left and right there, seize this crazy monk and throw him to the ground. Give him a good forty strokes for me.”
Now these bamboo clubs used in punishments at the home of the prime minister were more terrible than those used anywhere else, because the hollow parts of the bamboo were filled with water. No matter how strong a man might be, forty strokes would break skin and bones. When Ji Gong heard the order given to beat him and the two men were about to begin, he pulled himself loose from their grasp. He leapt between the old temple master and the superintendent of the monks and stood among the other monks.
Three of the household people came over and thrust out their arms to grasp Ji Gong and throw him down upon the ground saying, “Very good, monk! You think you can hide from us and that will be the end of it.”
One held his head down and one held his feet. The monk’s head was to the west. The man with the bamboo stood at the south so that the prime minister could witness the punishment. The man raised the bamboo and administered forty strokes. The monk said not a word. After the three had finished, they stepped aside.
When the prime minister looked, he shouted, “You dog heads! I told you to beat the crazy monk! Why did you beat the superintendent?”
The three looked and felt a bit odd. Just now they had been sure that they were holding the mad monk. How could he have changed into Superintendent Guang Liang?
Guang Liang was now able to say, “Ai ya! You have killed me!” Up to this moment his mouth had been covered and he had been unable to speak during the forty blows. There was broken skin, wounded flesh, and much blood!
CHAPTER 10
Prime Minister Qin sees a ghostly spirit in a dream; Ji Gong comes by night to exercise the arts of Buddha
Only from the most extravagant hopes in the most simple heart,
May the profoundest changes come to pass.
The serenity of moonlit mountain peaks
May be reflected on the storm-tossed sea;
The frightened boatman sees and calmly steers his craft.
Such is the peace reflected from within the Buddhist’s heart.
PRIME Minister Qin summoned a new set of executioners, saying, “Give this crazy monk forty heavy strokes for me. Now, my good mad priest, if I do not have you beaten, I swear that you need not call me a man.”
So three executioners came before the summerhouse. One seized Ji Gong and said, “This time, monk, we will not beat the wrong one.”
Ji Gong said, “You have me. I will go.”
The three men shouted, “Are you trying to waste our time? Get down!”
Ji Gong asked, “Do you monks make bedding in that shop of yours?” pretending he thought that their bamboo staves were used to beat cotton into floss.
The
