The pearly tassels of heavy dew obscure the green carpet;

In the light breeze stone teeth crush chilly fragrance.

A delicate voice intones in the corridor at night;

Pale autumn shadows are put away in the ancient hall.

I used to be offered for long life at the New Year;

In old age I stand proudly on the mountain.”

“What a fine poem, what a fine poem,” said Master Emptiness. “Truly, the moon was working together with heaven to write it. How could such a clumsy fool as I am hope to match its rhymes? But I must try to patch a few lines together: I don't want to waste this chance:”

“The timber of roofbeams is close to kings;

Its fame is spread in the Palace of Great Purity.

The sunlit hall seems filled with azure blue;

Green fragrance always pervades the dark wall.

Strong, cold and ancient in my beauty,

My roots go down to the Underworld's nine springs.

My spreading shade gives cover like cold clouds.

I don't compete in prettiness with flowers.”

“You three gentlemen's poems,” said Cloud-toucher, “are elegant and pure, like a whole sackful of embroidery and brocades being opened out. Although I have neither strength nor talent you three gentlemen have removed the block for me. If you insist I'll put a few lines of doggerel together. I hope they won't make you laugh:

In the bamboo grove I delight wise kings;

A hundred acres of me by the Wei brings fame.

My green skin is naturally marked by the tears of the Xiang Goddess;

My scaly shoots pass on the scent of history.

My leaves will never change their color in frost;

The beauty of my misty twigs can never be concealed.

Few have understood me since the death of Wang Huizhi;

Since ancient times I have been known through brush and ink.

“You venerable immortals have all composed poems like phoenixes breathing out pearls,” Sanzang said. “There is nothing I can add. I am deeply moved by the great favour you have shown me. But it is late now and I do not know where my three disciples are waiting for me. I cannot stay any longer, and I must start finding my way back. I am profoundly grateful for your boundless love. Could you show me my way back?”

“Don't be so worried, holy monk,” replied the four ancients, laughing. “An encounter like this is rare in a thousand years. The sky is fresh and clear, and the moon makes the night as bright as day. Relax and sit here for a little longer. At dawn we shall see you across the ridge. You will certainly meet your distinguished disciples.”

As they were talking in came two serving maids in blue, each carrying a lantern of crimson silk. Behind them followed a fairy who was holding a sprig of apricot blossom as she greeted them with a smile. What did the fairy look like?

Her hair had the green of jade,

Her face was pinker than rouge.

Her starry eyes were full of light and color;

Her elegant eyebrows were like moth antennae.

She wore a red skirt with plum-blossom designs;

And a light jacket of gray shot with red.

Her curved shoes were shaped like phoenix beaks,

And her silk stockings were marked with mud.

This witch was as lovely as the woman on Tiantai,

No less a beauty than the Zhou king's concubine.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Apricot Fairy?” the old man asked as they bowed to her.

Returning their bows she replied, “I hear that you have a distinguished guest here and are exchanging poems with him. May I meet him?”

“Here he is,” said the Eighteenth Lord, pointing him out. “You don't need to ask.” Sanzang bowed to her but dared say nothing.

“Bring in the tea at once,” she said. Two more serving girls in yellow, carried in a red lacquer tray on which were six fine porcelain tea-bowls with rare fruits in them and spoons lying across the top, as well as a copper-inlaid iron teapot in which was hot and fragrant tea. When the tea had been poured the woman showed glimpses of finger as delicate as spring onion shoots as she presented the porcelain bowls of it first to Sanzang and then to the four ancients. The last cup she kept for herself.

Only when Master Emptiness invited the Apricot Fairy to sit down did she do so. After they had drunk the tea she leant forward and said, “As you ancient immortals have been having so delightful an evening could you tell me some of the choicest lines you've composed?”

“Our stuff was just vulgar rubbish,” Cloud-toucher replied. “But this holy monk's verses were truly superb examples of high Tang poetry.”

“Please let me hear them if you will,” the fairy said, whereupon the four ancients recited Sanzang's two poems and his exposition of the Dhyana dharma. The woman, whose face was all smiles, then said, “I'm completely untalented and shouldn't really be making a fool of myself like this, but hearing this wonderful lines is an opportunity too good to waste. Could I cobble together a verse in the second rhyme pattern?” She then recited these lines:

The Han Emperor Wu first made my name;

In Zhou times Confucius taught under my shade.

Dong Feng loved me so much he planted a wood of me;

Sun Chu once offered my jelly in sacrifice.

Soft is my pink and rain-fed beauty;

The misty green is shown and yet concealed.

When over-ripe I have a touch of sourness;

Each year I fall beside the fields of wheat.”

When the four ancients heard the poem they were all full of admiration for it. “How elegant it is,” they said, “and how free of worldly dust. At the same time the lines have something of the awakening of spring in them. 'Soft is my pink and rain-fed beauty.' That's good. 'Soft is my pink and rain-fed beauty.'”

“You're too kind-it quite alarms me,” she replied. “The holy monk's lines that I heard just now were like brocade from the heart or embroidery in words. Could you be generous with your pearls and teach me one of those verses?” The Tang Priest dared not reply.

The woman was evidently falling for him and moving closer and closer, pressing herself against him and whispering to him, “Noble guest, let's make the most of this wonderful night for love. What are we waiting for? Life is short.”

“The Apricot Fairy admires you completely, holy monk,” said the Eighteenth Lord. “You must feel something for her. If you don't find her adorable you have very poor taste.”

“The holy monk is a famous gentleman who has found the Way,” said the Lone Upright Lord, “and he wouldn't possibly act in a way that was at all improper. It would be quite wrong of us to do things like that. To ruin his reputation and honour would be a very mean thing to do. If the Apricot Fairy is willing Cloud-toucher and the Eighteenth Lord can act as matchmakers while Master Emptiness and I act as the guarantors of the wedding. It would be excellent if they married.”

Hearing this Sanzang turned pale with horror, jumped to his feet and shouted at the top of his voice, “You're all monsters, trying to lead me astray like that. There was nothing wrong with talking about the mysteries of the Way with well-honed arguments, but it's disgraceful of you to try to ruin a monk like me by using a woman as a bait.” Seeing how angry Sanzang was they all bit their fingers in fear and said nothing more.

But the red devil servant exploded with thunderous fury, “You don't know how honoured you're being, monk. What's wrong with my sister? She's beautiful and charming. Her needlework aside, her gift for poetry alone would make her more than a match for you. What do you mean, trying to turn her down? You're making a terrible mistake. The Lone Upright Lord's idea was quite right. If you're not prepared to sleep with her on the quiet I'll marry the two of you properly.”