If it's never too cold and it's never too hot

The five kinds of grain will be harvested not.”

“If it's so hot here how do you get the flour to make your cakes?” To this the young man said,

“You ask me where we can obtain the flour for the pan:

Politely we request it from Immortal Iron Fan.”

“What can you tell me about this immortal?” Monkey asked.

“The immortal has a plantain fan,” the young man replied. “If you ask it to, the fan puts out the fire at the first wave, makes a wind blow at the second wave, and brings rain at the third wave. That is how we can sow and reap the crops to support ourselves. Without it nothing would be able to grow.”

On hearing this Monkey rushed back inside, gave the cakes to Sanzang, and said, “Don't worry, Master: Don't get upset about what's going to happen the year after next. East these cakes up and I'll tell you all about it.” Sanzang took the cakes and said to the old man, “Please have a cake, sir.”

“I could not possibly eat one of your cakes before we've offered you any of our tea and food,” the old man replied. “Sir,” Monkey replied, “there's no need to give us food or tea. But could you tell me where the Iron Fan Immortal lives?”

“What do you want to know about the immortal for?” the old man asked. “The cake-seller told me just now that the immortal has a plantain fan,” said Monkey. “If you borrow it the first wave puts the fire out, the second raises a wind and the third brings rain. That's why you're able to sow and reap the crops to support yourselves. I want to go to ask the immortal to come so we can put out the flames on the Fiery Mountains and cross them. And you'll be able to sow, reap and live in peace.”

“It's a nice idea,” said the old man, “but as you have no presents the immortal wouldn't come.”

“What sort of presents would be wanted?” Sanzang asked.

“Every ten years,” the old man replied, “we go to visit the immortal. We take four pigs and four sheep, all decorated with flowers and red ribbons, delicious fruit in season, chickens, geese and the best wine. We bathe ourselves and go very reverently to pay a respectful visit to the mountain and ask the immortal to leave the cave and come here to perform magic.”

“Where is this mountain?” Monkey asked. “What's it called? How far is it from here? I'm going there to ask for the fan.”

“It lies Southwest of here,” the old man said, “and it's called Mount Turquoise Cloud. When we believers go to worship at the magic mountain the journey takes us a month as it's about 485 miles altogether.”

“No problem,” said Monkey. “I can be there and back in no time.”

“Wait a minute,” said the old man. “Have something to eat and drink first, and we'll get some provisions ready for the journey. You'll need two people to go with you. Nobody lives along the way and there are many wolves and tigers. It'll take you many a day to get there. You must be serious about it.”

“No need,” said Monkey with a laugh, “no need. I'm off.” As soon as he had said that he disappeared.

“My lord!” the old man said in astonishment. “He's a god who can ride clouds.”

We shall say no more of how the family redoubled their offerings to the Tang Priest, but tell of Monkey, who arrived at Mount Turquoise Cloud in an instant, brought his auspicious light to a stop and started looking for the entrance to the cave. He heard the sound of an axe and saw a woodcutter felling a tree in the forest on the mountainside. Hurrying forward, Monkey heard him saying.

“I recognize the ancient woods amid the clouds;

The path is overgrown; the hillside steep.

From Western hills I see the morning rain;

Returning to the South the ford's too deep.”

Going closer to the woodman Monkey said, “Greetings, woodman.” Putting down his axe the woodcutter returned his courtesy and asked him where he was going. “May I ask if this is Mount Turquoise Cloud?” said Monkey.

“Yes,” the woodcutter replied.

“Where is the Iron Fan Immortal's Plantain Cave?” Monkey asked.

“There's a Plantain Cave here,” the woodcutter replied, “but no Iron Fan Immortal, only a Princess Iron Fan. She's also called Raksasi.”

“They say the immortal has a plantain fan that can put out the flames of the Fiery Mountains. Is that her?”

“Yes, yes,” the woodman said. “She's a sage and she has this treasure that puts out fire. Because she protects the people who live over yonder they call her the Iron Fan Immortal. We have no need of her here, so we just call her Raksasi. She's the wife of the Bull Demon King.”

Monkey went pale with shock at the news. “Another person who's got it in for me,” he thought. “When I subdued the Red Boy the other year he said this bitch was his mother. When I met the Red Boy's uncle at Childfree Cave on Mount Offspring Dissolved he refused me the water and wanted revenge. Now I'm up against his parents. How am I ever going to borrow the fan?”

Seeing Monkey deep in thought and sighing endlessly, the woodcutter said with a smile, “Venerable sir, you're a man of religion. You shouldn't have any worries. Just follow this path East and you'll be at the Plantain Cave within a couple of miles.”

“I'll be frank with you, woodcutter,” said Monkey. “I'm the senior disciple of the Tang Priest who has been sent by the Tang emperor in the East to go to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven. The other year I had words with Raksasi's son Red Boy at the Fire-cloud Cave, and I'm afraid that Raksasi may refuse to let me have the fan because she's still nursing a grudge. That's why I'm worried.”

“A real man knows how to play it by ear,” the woodcutter replied. “Just ask for the fan. Forget about your old quarrel. I'm sure you'll be able to borrow it.”

Monkey made a respectful chant and said, “Thank you very much for your advice. I'm off.”

Brother Monkey then took his leave of the woodcutter and went straight to the mouth of the Plantain Cave. Both doors were tightly shut, and the scenery outside was magnificent. It was a splendid place. Indeed:

The rocks were the hones of the mountain,

And also the spirit of the earth.

Clouds at sunset held night rain,

And mosses lent the freshness of their green.

The towering peaks outdid those of Penglai;

The fragrant calm was like a magic island's.

Wild cranes were perching in the lofty pines

While warblers sang in the weeping willows.

This was indeed an ancient site,

The home of immortals for ten thousand years.

The resplendent phoenix sang in the parasol trees

While azure dragons hid in the running waters.

Vines hung over the winding paths,

And creepers covered the steps of stone.

Apes on the cliffs screeched to welcome the rising moon;

In tall trees birds sang for joy at the clear blue sky.

The groves of bamboo were as cool as if it had rained;

The flowers along the path were embroidered velvet.

At times a cloud of white would blow from a distant peak;

It had no single form as it drifted in the wind.

“Open up, Brother Bull,” Monkey shouted as he went up to the doors. They opened with a creak, and out came a young girl carrying a flower basket in her hand and hoe over her shoulder. Indeed:

Though clad in rags and dressed in no fine array,

Her face was full of spirit, her heart set on the Way.

Monkey went up to her with his hands together in front of his chest and said, “Would you kindly tell the princess that I'm a monk going to the West to fetch the scriptures. I'm here to beg the loan of her plantain fan as we can't get across the Fiery Mountains.”