Chapter 6: Nine-Dragoned Shi Robs Travelers in Red Pine Forest; Lu Zhishen Burns the Tile-and-Bowl Temple

Chapter 6: The Nine-Dragoned Dragon Sets an Ambush in the Red Pine Forest; Lu Zhishen Burns the Tile-and-Pot Temple

As Lu Zhishen crossed several hills, he spotted a large pine forest with a mountain path. Following that path, he had walked less than half a li when he looked up and saw a dilapidated temple, its bell clanging in the wind. Looking at the mountain gate, there was an old vermilion plaque above it with four gold characters, all faded, reading "The Temple of Tile and Pot." After walking another forty or fifty paces, he crossed a stone bridge, and when he looked again, there stood an ancient temple, already many years old. Entering the mountain gate and looking carefully, though it was a large temple, it was utterly ruined and decayed. What he saw was:

The bell tower had collapsed, the halls were crumbling. The mountain gate was overgrown with moss, and the scripture halls were covered in green lichen. Reeds sprouted from the knees of the Sakyamuni Buddha, as if he were cultivating in the snowy mountains; Guanyin was entangled in brambles, as if guarding the days of Fragrant Mountain. The heavenly guardians were damaged, with birds nesting in their bosoms; the Lord Indra was tilted, with spiders spinning webs in his mouth. Headless arhats, their dharma bodies meeting calamity; broken-armed vajra warriors, what use was their divine power even if displayed? The kitchen had rabbit holes hidden within, and fox tracks were imprinted on the Dragon Flower Platform.

Lu Zhishen entered the temple and headed straight for the guest quarters. There he saw that the main door of the guest quarters was gone, and all the surrounding walls had collapsed. Zhishen thought to himself: "How could such a large temple fall into such ruin?" He went directly to the abbot's quarters to look, and saw the ground covered with swallow droppings, a lock hanging on the door covered in cobwebs. Zhishen thrust his staff into the ground and called out, "A traveling monk begs for alms." He called for a long time, but no one answered. Returning to the kitchen to look, he saw that the cauldron was gone and the stove had collapsed and was ruined. Zhishen untied his bundle, placed it before the Kitchen Guardian's shrine, picked up his staff, and went searching everywhere. Behind the kitchen, he found a small room where several old monks were sitting, each gaunt and sallow.

Zhishen shouted, "You monks, how unreasonable! I called out, and not one of you answered." The old monk waved his hand and said, "Don't speak so loudly." Zhishen said, "I'm a traveling monk asking for a meal—what's the harm?" The old monk said, "We haven't had a grain of rice in three days. Where can we get food to give you?" Zhishen said, "I'm a monk from Mount Wutai. Even a half-bowl of porridge would do." The old monk said, "You're a monk from where the living Buddha is born; we should offer you a meal. But alas, all the monks in our temple have scattered, and there isn't a single grain of alms rice left. We few old monks have truly been starving for three days." Zhishen said, "Nonsense! With a place this big, I don't believe there's no alms rice." The old monk said, "This place is no ordinary one. It was once a public monastery, but a wandering monk and his Taoist companion came to take charge. They destroyed everything the monastery had, good or bad. Those two stop at nothing—they drove out all the monks. We old ones couldn't flee, so we just stay here to survive. That's why we have no food." Zhishen said, "Nonsense! What can one monk and one Taoist do? Why not report them to the authorities?" The old monk said, "Master, you don't know—the yamen is far from here, and even the official soldiers can't stop them. That monk and Taoist are extremely fierce—both are murderers and arsonists. They now live in a place behind the abbot's quarters." Zhishen asked, "What are their names?" The old monk said, "The monk's surname is Cui, his dharma name is Daocheng, and his nickname is 'Iron Buddha.' The Taoist's surname is Qiu, and he's the youngest of his brothers, nicknamed 'Flying Night-Thief.' Those two are nothing like monks—they're just bandits from the greenwood, using the guise of monks to cover themselves."

As Zhishen was questioning them, he suddenly caught a whiff of fragrance. He picked up his staff and went around to the back to look. There he saw an earthen stove covered with a grass lid, steam rising vigorously. Zhishen lifted the lid and saw a pot of millet porridge boiling. Zhishen cursed, "You old monks are unreasonable! You said you hadn't eaten for three days, yet here you are boiling a pot of porridge. Why do monks lie?" When the old monks saw Zhishen had found the porridge, they wailed in distress and scrambled for bowls, clay pots, ladles, and buckets. Zhishen was hungry and had no choice—seeing the porridge, he wanted to eat it, but had no way to do so properly. Then he noticed a broken lacquered table by the stove, covered in dust. Seeing this, "a man in need is quick-witted," he leaned his staff aside, picked up some straw by the stove, wiped the dust off the table, lifted the pot with both hands, and poured the porridge onto the table. The old monks all rushed to grab the porridge, but Zhishen pushed them down—some fell, some ran away. Zhishen then scooped up the porridge with his hands and began eating. After just a few mouthfuls, the old monk said, "We truly haven't eaten for three days. We just begged for this millet and cooked some porridge to keep us alive, and now you've eaten ours." After eating five or six mouthfuls, hearing this, Zhishen stopped and put the food down.

Just then, he heard someone singing outside. Zhishen washed his hands, picked up his staff, and went out to look. Through a crack in the broken wall, he saw a Taoist, wearing a black headcloth, a cloth shirt, a multicolored sash at his waist, and hempen sandals on his feet, carrying a pole over his shoulder. On one end was a bamboo basket, from which some fish tails stuck out, with lotus leaves wrapped around some meat; on the other end was a jug of wine, also covered with lotus leaves. The Taoist sang as he walked:

"When you're in the east and I'm in the west, you have no man and I have no wife. If I have no wife, it passes, but if you have no husband, how lonely you are!"

The several old monks came running out, waving their hands, and quietly pointed out to Zhishen, saying, “That Taoist is the Flying Yaksha, Qiu Xiaoyi.” When Zhishen saw them identify him, he lifted his staff and followed behind. The Taoist, unaware that Zhishen was following him, walked straight toward the back wall of the abbot’s quarters. Zhishen followed him inside and saw, under a green locust tree, a table set with dishes, three cups, and three pairs of chopsticks. In the middle sat a fat monk, with eyebrows like painted brushes, a face like black lacquer, a body full of bulging muscles, and a black belly showing beneath his chest. Beside him sat a young woman. The Taoist put down his bamboo basket and also sat down. Zhishen walked up to them, and the monk, startled, jumped up and said, “Please, brother, sit and have a cup with me.” Zhishen, holding his staff, said, “How did you two destroy this temple?” The monk replied, “Brother, please sit and hear what I have to say.” Zhishen glared and said, “Speak! Speak!” The monk said, “In the past, this temple was a fine place, with vast fields and many monks. But it was ruined by those old monks in the cloisters, who drank and caroused, spent money on women, and even the abbot could not control them. They drove the abbot away, and so the temple fell into ruin. The monks all scattered, and the fields were sold. I and this Taoist have newly taken over as abbots here, and we are just about to repair the gates and restore the halls.” Zhishen asked, “Who is this woman? Why is she here drinking?” The monk said, “Brother, allow me to explain: This lady is the daughter of Wang Youjin from the front village. Her father was formerly a benefactor of this temple, but his fortune has declined, and lately he has fallen on hard times. All his family are gone, and her husband is ill, so she came to our temple to borrow some rice. Out of respect for the benefactor, I offered her some wine as a courtesy. There is no other intent. Brother, do not listen to those old beasts.” After hearing this speech, and seeing how deferential the monk was, Zhishen said, “Damn those old monks for fooling me.” He lifted his staff and went back to the Kitchen of Fragrant Food. The old monks were just finishing their porridge and were still there. Seeing Zhishen come out angrily, he pointed at them and said, “So it was you who ruined the temple, and you still dare to lie to me.” The old monks all said together, “Brother, do not believe him. He is keeping a woman there right now. Just now, when he saw you had your staff and ringed staff, he had no weapon and dared not fight you. If you do not believe us, go back and see how he treats you. Brother, think for yourself: They eat meat and drink wine, while we have not even porridge. Just now we were afraid you might be taken in by him.” Zhishen said, “That makes sense.” He picked up his staff and went back to the back of the abbot’s quarters, but found the side gate already locked. Zhishen, enraged, kicked it open and burst in. When he looked, he saw the Iron Buddha Cui Daocheng, wielding a halberd, charging from inside toward the locust tree to attack Zhishen. Zhishen, seeing this, let out a great roar, swung his staff, and fought with Cui Daocheng. After fourteen or fifteen rounds, Cui Daocheng could not overcome Zhishen; he could only parry and dodge, unable to hold his ground, and was about to flee. When the Taoist Qiu saw that he could not hold out, he grabbed a halberd from behind and strode forward to strike. Zhishen, in the midst of the fight, heard footsteps behind him but dared not turn to look. Soon he saw a figure in his peripheral vision and knew someone was plotting against him. He shouted, “Take that!” Cui Daocheng, panicked, thought the staff was coming at him and leaped out of the circle. Zhishen turned around just in time to face both of them. Cui Daocheng and the Taoist Qiu fought together for over ten more rounds. Zhishen, first because his stomach was empty, second because he had traveled far, and third because he could not withstand the fresh strength of the two opponents, had to feign a weakness, drag his staff, and flee. The two men, gripping their halberds, chased him straight out of the temple gate. Zhishen fought another ten rounds, then pulled back his staff and ran. The two pursued him to the stone bridge, then sat on the railing and did not follow further. Zhishen, now far away, caught his breath and thought, “My bundle is left before the shrine of the Kitchen God. I rushed out without taking it. On the road, I have no money and I am starving. What am I to do? If I go back, I cannot defeat them; two against one, and I’d only die for nothing.” He wandered aimlessly forward, each step more reluctant than the last. After walking a few li, he saw a large forest ahead, all of red pine trees. One could see: Twisted branches tangled, like a thousand red-legged old dragons; strange shadows jagged, like ten thousand red-scaled giant pythons. Seen from afar, they looked like a judge’s beard; up close, like a demon’s hair. Who had sprinkled blood on the treetops? It seemed cinnabar was spread over the canopy. Lu Zhishen looked and said, “A truly fierce and evil forest.” As he gazed, he saw a figure peeking out from among the trees, looked once, spat, and slipped back inside. Zhishen said, “I reckon that bastard is a highway robber, waiting here for business. Seeing I’m a monk, he thinks it’s unlucky, spits, and goes back in. That fellow is out of luck, running into me. I’ve got a belly full of anger and nowhere to vent it. I’ll strip his clothes and pawn them for wine.” He lifted his staff and charged straight to the edge of the pine forest, shouting, “Hey, you bastard in the forest, come out!” The man in the forest heard and laughed loudly, saying, “I’m unlucky, and he dares to provoke me!” He grabbed his halberd from inside the forest, turned and leaped out, shouting, “Bald donkey, you’re asking for death. I didn’t come looking for you.” Zhishen said, “I’ll make you know who I am.” He swung his staff and rushed at the man. The man gripped his halberd to fight the monk, but as he was about to move forward, he thought to himself, “This monk’s voice sounds familiar.” He said, “Hey, monk, your voice is very familiar. What’s your name?” Zhishen said, “Let’s fight three hundred rounds first, then I’ll tell you my name.” The man, enraged, wielded his halberd to meet the staff. They fought for ten or more rounds, and the man silently praised, “What a fierce monk.” After another four or five rounds, the man called out, “Hold a moment, I have something to say.” Both jumped out of the circle, and the man asked, “What is your real name? Your voice is very familiar.” After Zhishen told him his name, the man threw down his halberd, turned and knelt, saying, “Do you recognize Shi Jin?” Zhishen laughed and said, “So it’s you, elder brother Shi.” They both knelt again, then went into the forest and sat down. Zhishen asked, “Elder brother Shi, since we parted in Weizhou, where have you been all this time?” Shi Jin replied, “That day after we parted at the wine shop, the next day I heard you had beaten Zheng Tu to death and fled. The constables learned that I had helped you give money to the singing old man and his daughter, so I left Weizhou too, to find my teacher Wang Jin. I went as far as Yanzhou but couldn’t find him. I returned to the Northern Capital, stayed a while, and spent all my money. That’s why I’m here looking for some funds. I never expected to meet you, brother. How did you become a monk?” Zhishen told him everything that had happened from the beginning. Shi Jin said, “Brother, since you’re hungry, I have some dried meat and flatcakes here.” He took them out and gave them to Zhishen to eat. Shi Jin added, “Brother, since your bundle is still in the temple, let’s go get it together. If they refuse, we’ll finish them off.” Zhishen said, “Yes.” So they ate their fill, each took his weapon, and went back to Waguan Temple.

Arriving at the temple gate, they saw Cui Daocheng and Qiu Xiaoyi still sitting on the bridge. Lu Zhishen gave a great shout: "You scoundrels, come, come, today I'll fight you to the death!" The monk laughed and said, "You were my defeated foe—how dare you come again to cross swords with me?" Zhishen, enraged, swung his iron staff and charged across the bridge. The "Iron Buddha" grew angry, seized his saber, and rushed down from the bridge. Zhishen, first, with Shi Jin's help, felt his courage bolstered; second, having eaten his fill, his spirit and strength were all the more ready to be used. The two fought for eight or nine rounds, and Cui Daocheng gradually lost his strength, thinking only of escape. The "Sky-Racing Yaksha," Priest Qiu, seeing the monk losing, took his saber and came to help. Shi Jin, on his side, seeing this, leaped out from the woods and shouted: "None of you run!" He pushed back his rain hat, brandished his saber, and engaged Qiu Xiaoyi. The four fought in two pairs. As Zhishen and Cui Daocheng were locked in a crucial struggle, Zhishen seized his chance and roared: "Strike!" With a single blow of his staff, he knocked the "Iron Buddha" off the bridge. The priest, seeing the monk fallen, lost his will to fight, feigned an opening, and ran. Shi Jin shouted: "Where are you going?" He caught up and thrust his saber into the priest's back; with a thud, the priest fell to one side. Shi Jin stepped on him, turned the saber, and stabbed downward repeatedly. Zhishen rushed off the bridge and struck Cui Daocheng from behind with his staff. Pity those two villains, they became but a dream of Nanke! Truly, "Every evil deed done in the past meets its retribution before the eyes." Zhishen and Shi Jin bound the corpses of Qiu Xiaoyi and Cui Daocheng and threw them into the mountain stream. The two then charged back into the temple. In the kitchen, the few old monks, having seen Zhishen defeated and fearing that Cui Daocheng and Qiu Xiaoyi would kill them, had already hanged themselves. Zhishen and Shi Jin went straight to the abbot's quarters and looked through the rear side gate; the woman who had been captured had jumped into a well and died. They searched through eight or nine small rooms inside, but found no one; they saw the bundle was still there, unopened. Lu Zhishen, seeing the bundle, took it up again. Searching further inside, they found three or four packs of clothes on the bed. Shi Jin opened them—they were all garments, with some gold and silver wrapped inside. He picked the best, made a bundle, and carried it on his back. Finding the kitchen, they saw there was wine and meat, and both ate their fill. By the stove, they tied two torches, lit them from the fire, and flames leaped up, first burning the rear small rooms, then spreading to the front gate. They tied more torches and went straight to the back eaves of the Buddha hall, setting them alight. By chance, the wind was strong, and the fire crackled and blazed, filling the sky with flames. Zhishen and Shi Jin watched for a while until the fire had taken hold on all sides. The two said: "Liang Yuan is fine, but it's no place to stay long; we two must part." The two pursued each other on the road and walked through the night. As dawn broke faintly, they saw in the distance a cluster of houses, which seemed to be a market town. They headed toward that town, and by a single-plank bridge, there was a small tavern. It appeared thus:

A half-closed wicker gate, a lowered cloth curtain. Sour wine jars stood by the earthen wall; ink paintings of immortals on dusty walls. A village lad measured wine—surely no Sima Xiangru washing wine vessels; an ugly woman tended the counter—no Zhuo Wenjun of old. Large characters on the wall, inscribed by the village scholar in his cups; a straw raincoat on the rack, pawned by a passing fisherman in high spirits.

Zhishen and Shi Jin entered the village tavern, drinking while ordering the waiter to buy some meat, borrow some rice, and light a fire to cook a meal. The two drank and talked of many events on the road. After eating and drinking, Zhishen asked Shi Jin: "Where are you heading now?" Shi Jin said: "I have no choice now but to return to Mount Shaohua, to rejoin Zhu Wu and the other two, and join their band for a while, then plan further." Zhishen heard this and said: "Brother, same here." He opened his bundle, took out some gold and silver, and gave it to Shi Jin. The two tied up their bundles, took their weapons, and paid for the wine. They left the tavern, departed the town, and walked less than five or seven li to a three-way fork in the road. Zhishen said: "Brother, we must part here. I'm heading to the Eastern Capital—don't see me off. If you go to Huazhou, you must take this road; only then can we meet again. If you find a convenient person, send word back and forth." Shi Jin bowed and took leave of Zhishen; they each went their separate ways, and Shi Jin departed.

Let us speak only of Zhishen heading to the Eastern Capital. After another eight or nine days on the road, he soon saw the Eastern Capital in the distance. Entering the city, he saw:

A thousand gates and ten thousand doors, a dazzling array of red and green; the three markets and six streets, crowded with officials and gentry. Phoenix towers arrayed with ninefold gold and jade; dragon pavilions showing a stretch of glass. Flower-lined streets and willow lanes, many a charming beauty; Chu pavilions and Qin halls, countless romantic singing girls. Wealthy households called out in games of dice; sons of nobles and princes came seeking pleasure.

Zhishen saw the bustle of the Eastern Capital, the clamor of the market, and as he entered the city, he carefully asked someone: "Where is the Great Xiangguo Temple?" A street dweller replied: "Ahead is the State Bridge." Zhishen, carrying his staff, walked on and soon arrived at the temple gate. Entering the mountain gate, he looked around—truly a magnificent great monastery! It appeared thus:

The mountain gate towered high, the temple grounds serene. The imperial inscription above was clear, the vajra guardians on either side fierce. A five-bay main hall, with dragon-scale tiles laid in green rows; on four sides, monks' quarters, with tortoise-shell bricks inlaid seams. The bell tower stood sternly, the sutra hall rose lofty. The banner pole soared high to the blue clouds; the jeweled pagoda seemed to touch the azure sky. Wooden fish hung crosswise, cloud boards hung high. Before the Buddha, lamps and candles shone brightly; within the censer, incense smoke curled. Banners and canopies ceaselessly, the Guanyin hall connected to the Patriarch hall; jeweled canopies linked, the land-and-water assembly reached the Arhat court. At all times, protective deities descended; year after year, demon-subduing venerables came.

Zhishen entered the temple, looked around the eastern and western corridors, and went straight to the guest reception office. A handyman ran into him and reported to the guest reception monk. Soon, the guest reception monk came out; seeing Zhishen's fierce appearance, carrying an iron staff, wearing a ritual knife, and bearing a large bundle, he was already half afraid of him. The reception monk asked: "Elder brother, from where have you come?" Zhishen put down his bundle and staff, made a greeting, and the reception monk returned it. Zhishen said: "This humble disciple has come from Mount Wutai. My master, the Venerable Zhen, has a letter here, instructing me to come to your honored monastery to see the Venerable Abbot Qing, and to request a position as a serving monk." The reception monk said: "Since you have a letter from the Venerable Zhen, you should go to the abbot's quarters." The reception monk led Zhishen to the abbot's quarters, where he untied his bundle, took out the letter, and held it in his hand. The reception monk said: "Elder brother, why don't you know proper decorum? When the abbot comes out, you must remove your ritual knife, take out your seven-piece sitting mat and incense, and bow to the abbot." Zhishen said: "Why didn't you say so earlier?" He then removed his ritual knife, took out a stick of incense and the seven-piece sitting mat from his bundle, and stood there for a long time at a loss. The reception monk helped him put on his cassock and told him to first spread out the sitting mat. Shortly after, they saw the Venerable Zhiqing appear. The reception monk stepped forward and reported: "This monk has come from Mount Wutai, bearing a letter from the Venerable Zhen." Abbot Qing said: "My elder brother hasn't sent a dharma letter for a long time." The reception monk called out to Zhishen: "Elder brother, come quickly and bow to the abbot." Zhishen first inserted the incense stick into the censer, bowed three times, and presented the letter. Abbot Qing took the letter, opened it, and read it; inside it said in detail: "The reasons for Lu Zhishen's ordination, and the circumstances of his leaving the mountain to entrust himself to your monastery; I earnestly hope you will compassionately accept him and give him a position as a serving monk, and on no account refuse. This monk will surely attain enlightenment in the future." After reading the letter, Abbot Qing said: "The monk who has come from afar may rest for a while in the monks' hall and have some simple food." Zhishen thanked him, gathered up his sitting mat and seven-piece set, took his bundle, picked up his staff and ritual knife, and followed the attendant boy away.

Elder Qing summoned the two groups of many duty monks to his abbot's quarters and said, "All of you monks here, look how lacking in discernment my senior brother, Chan Master Zhen, is. This monk who has come was originally a military officer in the Military Commissioner's office. Because he killed someone, he shaved his head and became a monk. Twice he caused a ruckus in the meditation hall over there, so it became difficult to place him. Since you couldn't settle him there, you push him off on me. If I don't want to take him in, my senior brother pleaded so earnestly, 'Do not refuse.' If I do let him stay here, what if he disrupts our pure rules? That won't do." The Guest Prefect said, "Even we disciples observed that monk—he doesn't look like a monk at all. How can our monastery place him?" The Temple Superintendent said, "After thinking it over, this disciple recalls that only behind the retired dwelling outside the Sour Date Gate, there is that vegetable garden. It is constantly harassed by the soldiers from the camp and those twenty or so ne'er-do-wells outside the gate. They let their sheep and horses run loose, causing a great nuisance. An old monk lives there as caretaker, but who dares to control them? Why not send Zhishen to be the caretaker there? He might actually be able to manage them." Elder Qing said, "The Temple Superintendent speaks correctly." He told an attendant to go to the meditation hall's guest room, wait until he finished eating, and then bring him over.

The attendant had not been gone long when he led Zhishen into the abbot's quarters. Elder Qing said, "Since you were recommended by my senior brother, True Great Master, to come to this monastery as a wandering monk and take up a duty post, this small monastery of ours has a large vegetable garden outside the Sour Date Gate, next to the Yue Temple. You can go there to take charge and manage it. Each day, have the gardeners deliver ten loads of vegetables; the rest are for your own use." Zhishen said, "My master, True Elder, told this humble monk to seek a great monastery and obtain a duty post as a monk. But he didn't say I should become a Temple Superintendent or a Monastery Supervisor. How can you order me to manage a vegetable garden?" The Chief Seat said, "Brother, you don't understand. You have just arrived as a wandering monk and have no merit. How could you immediately become a Temple Superintendent? Managing the vegetable garden is also an important duty post." Zhishen said, "I won't do the vegetable garden. I only want to be Temple Superintendent or Monastery Supervisor." The Guest Prefect said, "Listen to me as I explain to you. Within the monastic order, duty posts have their ranks. For instance, this humble monk serves as Guest Prefect, only handling the reception of visiting officials and monks. As for the Rector, Attendant, Secretary, and Chief Seat, these are all leisurely positions, not easily obtained. The Temple Superintendent, Monastery Supervisor, Steward, and Abbot of a subsidiary temple are those who manage the monastery's permanent property. You have just arrived at the abbot's quarters—how could you immediately obtain a high-ranking post? Then there are those who manage the sutra library, called the Librarian; those who manage the halls, called the Hall Master; those who manage the pavilions, called the Pavilion Master; those who manage alms-begging, called the Alms Collector; those who manage the bathhouse, called the Bath Master. These are all chief posts, belonging to the middle rank. And there are those who manage the pagoda, the Pagoda Head; those who manage the meals, the Meal Head; those who manage the tea, the Tea Head; those who manage the latrine, the Latrine Head; and this one who manages the vegetable garden, the Garden Head. These are all head posts, belonging to the lowest rank. Suppose, Brother, you manage the vegetable garden well for a year, then you will be promoted to Pagoda Head. If you manage that well for another year, you will be promoted to Bath Master. If you manage that well for yet another year, then you can become Monastery Supervisor." Zhishen said, "If that's the case, there is still a chance to rise. I'll go tomorrow." When Elder Qing saw that Zhishen was willing to go, he kept him in the abbot's quarters to rest for the night. That day, the duty post was decided. A notice was promptly written, and someone was sent ahead to the retired dwelling in the vegetable garden to hang up the official posting from the Monastery Office, with the handover to take place the next day. That night, everyone dispersed.

Early the next morning, Elder Qing ascended the Dharma seat, affixed the official seal, and appointed Zhishen to manage the vegetable garden. Zhishen came before the seat, received the official document, took his leave of the elder, shouldered his bundle, hung his precept knife at his waist, picked up his iron staff, and, accompanied by the two monks who were to escort him to the garden, went directly to the small dwelling outside the Sour Date Gate to take up his post. A poem bears witness:

Drifting like duckweed into the Eastern Capital,

Traversing forests and hills for many a mile.

The ancient temple now has passed through kalpa fire,

And from the Central Plains, war and weapons stir.

At Xiangguo Monastery, he anew hangs his bowl,

In the vegetable garden, he manages for a while.

Since ancient times, white clouds have no fixed abode—

How many transformations, as they freely roam.

Now, near the vegetable garden, there were twenty or thirty ne'er-do-well ruffians and scoundrels who were addicted to gambling. They often stole vegetables from the garden to make a living. When they came to steal vegetables, they saw a new official notice hung on the gate of the small dwelling. It read: "The Great Xiangguo Monastery appoints the monk Lu Zhishen to manage the vegetable garden and take up residence here. From tomorrow, he will take charge, and unauthorized persons are strictly forbidden from entering the garden to cause disturbance." After reading this, those ruffians went and discussed it with the other ne'er-do-wells, saying, "The Great Xiangguo Monastery has sent a monk named Lu Zhishen to manage the vegetable garden. Let's take advantage of his being new and pick a fight with him. We'll beat him down in one go and make that fellow submit to us." One of them said, "I have an idea. He doesn't know us. How can we just go straight to picking a quarrel? When he comes, we'll lure him over to the edge of the manure pit. We'll pretend to be congratulating him, then grab him by the legs, flip him over, and throw him into the manure pit—just a small prank on him." The group of ruffians said, "Good, good!" After settling the plan, they waited to see what would happen.

Now, Lu Zhishen arrived at the retired dwelling in the small house, settled his bundle and luggage, leaned his iron staff against the wall, and hung up his precept knife. The several gardening laborers all came to pay their respects, and all the keys and locks were fully handed over. The two monks, after taking leave of the old caretaker monk, returned to the monastery. Zhishen then went out to the vegetable garden plot, looking east and west, surveying the garden. He saw these twenty or thirty ruffians, carrying some fruit boxes and wine gifts, all grinning and laughing, saying, "We heard that the new monk has come to take charge. We neighbors and local folk have all come to offer our congratulations." Zhishen, not realizing it was a trick, walked straight over to the edge of the manure pit. That gang of ruffians charged forward together. One grabbed for his left leg, another grabbed for his right leg, hoping to throw Zhishen in. But this only made Zhishen's toes fly up—startling the fierce tiger before the mountain; his fists came down—terrifying the dragon in the sea. Truly, a single idle plot of garden was now arrayed as a small battlefield. How those ruffians tried to throw Zhishen, you must hear in the next chapter.