Gone was the beauty of the lotus by the bank;
The rose of Sharon's delicate fronds hung low.
The autumn begonia
Was weighed right down;
The winter plum
Was just putting out new growth.
The Peony Pavilion,
The Pomegranate Pavilion,
The Osmanthus Pavilion,
All piled deep in goose-down;
The Place for Forgetting Cares,
The Place for Entertaining Visitors,
The Place for Recreation,
All covered as if with butterflies' wings.
The yellow chrysanthemums by the fence were woven of jade and gold;
A few maples were dappled white and red.
Many a courtyard was too cold to enter:
The sight of the snow-cave made one feel like ice.
Here was set a brazier of bronze,
With heads of animals and legs like elephants,
Where a toasting-hot fire of charcoal burnt,
And some lacquered armchairs
With cushions of tigerskin
And screens of paper set all around for warmth.
On the walls were hung ancient paintings by famous artists, showing:
The Seven Worthies going out through the pass,
A solitary fisherman on a cold river,
Amid a landscape of snowy peaks and mountains.
Su Wu eating his rug,
Breaking off plum branches to meet the envoys,
And writing in the cold of a frozen forest.
There was no end of
Houses near a river pavilion where fish can be bought,
Mountain tracks buried in snow where no wine is on sale.
Were it big enough to live in
Who would need to go to magical Penghu?
After they had admired the scenery for a long time they sat down in the snow-cave and told the elderly neighbors about their mission to fetch the scriptures. When they had drunk the fragrant tea old Mr. Chen said, “Venerable gentlemen, may I offer you some wine?”
“As a monk I do not drink,” replied Sanzang, “but my disciples may drink a few cups.” The old man was delighted.
“Bring vegetarian food,” he ordered, “and warm some wine to keep the cold out of these gentlemen.” Servants then carried out tables that were set round the brazier. They all drank several cups with the two elderly neighbors, then everything was tidied away.
By now it was getting late, and the visitors were invited back into the hall for an evening meal. They could hear passers-by in the street saying, “Oh! It's cold today. The River of Heaven is frozen solid.”
“That's terrible,” said Sanzang to Brother Monkey. “The river's frozen.”
“In a sudden cold snap like this I think that only the shallow water near the bank can have frozen,” said old Mr. Chen. Then another passer-by said, “The whole 250 miles of it are frozen as smooth as a mirror, and some people are setting out across it from where the road ends.” Hearing that people were walking across, Sanzang wanted to go out and take a look. “Do not be in such a hurry, venerable sir,” said old Mr. Chen. “It's late now. Wait till morning.” He then said good-bye to the two elderly neighbors, and after supper the visitors slept in the side room once more.
Pig rose at dawn and said, “Brother, it was even colder last night. I think the river really must have frozen solid.” Sanzang went to the door, bowed low to Heaven, and prayed, “All you gods who protect the teachings, on my journey West I have faithfully worshipped the Buddha and crossed many a river and mountain with great suffering and never a word of complaint. I am deeply grateful for Heaven's help in bringing me this far, and I also give most humble thanks that the river has now frozen. When I bring the scriptures back I shall report all this to the Tang Emperor and reward you sincerely.” When he had finished his prayer he told Friar Sand to saddle the horse so that they could cross the river while it was frozen. “Please do not be in such a hurry,” said old Mr. Chen. “Stay here a few more days until the ice has melted and I shall arrange for a boat to carry you across.”
“I don't know whether we should go or stay,” said Friar Sand. “You can't rely on what people say, and you can only believe what you see with your own eyes. I'll saddle the horse and you can take a look for yourself.”
“A good suggestion,” said old Mr. Chen. “Servants,” he ordered, “saddle six of our horses, but not the Tang Priest's horse.”
Then with six young pages in attendance they went in line to the bank of the river to look. Indeed:
The snow is piled up like mountains,
When the clouds disappear the dawn is bright.
A thousand pinnacles soar above the ice-locked pass;
Frozen rivers and lakes are completely smooth.
The North wind chills to the bone,
The slippery ice is bitterly cold.
The fish stay by the plants in the pond,
The wild birds linger in the stubble.
Beyond the frontier fingers are lost to frostbite;
The boatman on the river breaks his teeth with shivering.
Snakes' stomachs split,
Birds' legs break:
The ice forms mountains thousands of feet high.
The flowing silver stops in ten thousand valleys;
Cold is the river's liquid jade.
The East produces frozen silkworms,
And mice make their holes in the Northern ice.
Wang Xiang lay on the ice to melt it
And caught a carp for his mother to eat.
When the Emperor Guangwu crossed the river
A bridge of ice formed overnight for him.
Many are the layers of ice on the pond,
And the deep pool is frozen solid.
There are no more waves on the mighty River of Heaven;
The gleaming ice stretches out as hard as a road.
When Sanzang and his party reached the bank of the river they reined in their horses to look and saw that there really were people setting out from where the road reached the bank. “Benefactor,” asked Sanzang, “where are those people going to across the ice?”
“On the other side of the river,” said old Mr. Chen, “is the Womanland of Western Liang. Those people are all traders. What costs a hundred cash on this side can be worth ten thousand over there and vice versa, and it's because such big profits can be made for such a small expenditure that people risk their lives to go there. Normally they form groups of five to a dozen or so and sail across, but now that the river has frozen over they are prepared to walk over at mortal peril.”
“Fame and profit are what make the world go round,” said Sanzang. “They are risking their lives for profit, and my disciples loyally obey orders for the sake of fame: there's not much to choose between them.” He then told Monkey to go back to their benefactors' house, pack the luggage, and bridle and saddle the horse so that they could head West while the ice held. Monkey agreed with a chuckle.
“Master,” said Friar Sand, “there's a saying that goes, 'For a thousand days you need a thousand pints of rice.' Now that we are staying at the Chen house why don't we wait here a few days longer till the skies have cleared and the ice melted then get a boat to take us across? Rushing like this will only lead to trouble.”
“Wujing,” Sanzang replied, “how can you be so stupid? If it were March and the weather were warming up every day we could wait for it to thaw. But now it is September and it is getting cooler very day, so it would be absurd to wait for the thaw. It would set our journey a long time back.”
“Stop all that idle chatter,” said Pig, jumping down from his horse. “I'm going to find out how thick the ice is.”
“You idiot,” said Monkey, “you could test the depth of the water the other evening by throwing a stone into it, but you could never do that now that the ice is so thick.”