Squire Zhao Renovates the Manjusri Monastery; Lu Zhishen Makes a Great Scene on Mount Wutai

Squire Zhao Renovates the Manjusri Monastery; Lu Zhishen Makes a Great Scene on Mount Wutai

A poem says:

To escape disaster he fled to Daizhou,  
And met the benefactor he had once saved;  
Joyfully they thanked each other.  
Because the government’s net was spread everywhere,  
He had no choice but to enter the Buddhist gate and cultivate his heart.  
Sitting in meditation, he hoped to escape worldly suffering;  
With coarse tea and plain food he would pass the four seasons.  
When in the future his worldly ties are ended and he attains the fruit,  
He may go to Amitabha’s Land of Ultimate Bliss.

When Commandant Lu turned around, the man pulling him was none other than Old Man Jin, whom he had saved in the wine shop in Weizhou. The old man pulled Lu Da to a quiet place and said, “Benefactor, you are bold! Wanted notices are posted everywhere offering a thousand strings of cash for you, yet you still went to read the notice. If I had not run into you, the runners would have arrested you long ago. The notice clearly gives your age, looks, and birthplace.” Lu Da said, “I will not hide it from you. It was because of you. That day I went back to Scholar’s Bridge and happened to meet Zheng the butcher. I killed him with three punches. Since then I have been fleeing for my life, drifting for forty or fifty days. I never expected to end up here. Why did you not return to the Eastern Capital? How did you come here too?” Old Man Jin said, “Benefactor, after you saved us, I hired a cart and meant to return to the Eastern Capital. But I feared Zheng the butcher’s people would chase us, and there was no benefactor there to protect us, so we did not dare go back. We traveled north and met an old neighbor I knew in the capital. He was doing business here and brought us father and daughter to Daizhou. Thanks to him, he also arranged a match for my daughter. She married a rich local man, Squire Zhao, as his secondary wife outside the household. We lack neither food nor clothing. All this is thanks to you, benefactor. My daughter often tells Squire Zhao of your great kindness. Squire Zhao himself loves spear and staff, and he often says, ‘If only I could meet your benefactor once.’ But there has been no chance. Benefactor, come home with me for a few days, and we can discuss your future.”

Commandant Lu followed Old Man Jin less than half a li to his house. The old man lifted the curtain and called, “Daughter, our great benefactor is here.” The woman, beautifully dressed, came out, invited Lu Da to sit in the seat of honor, and bowed to him six times with great respect, like offering incense. She said, “If you had not saved me, how could I be where I am today?” Lu Da looked at her. Her looks and bearing were very different from when she was fleeing. He saw:

Gold hairpins slanting in her dark hair; green sleeves lightly setting off snow-white skin. Her cherry lips held a faint red; her spring-bamboo hands softly opened. Her slender waist was graceful; her green silk skirt slightly revealed small feet. Her figure was light, and her red embroidered jacket made her bearing lovely. Her face was like flowers blooming in the third month; her brows like tender willow threads in early spring. Her skin was white and warm; her hair was loose like clouds.

After bowing, the woman said, “Benefactor, please come upstairs and sit.” Lu Da said, “No need for so much trouble. I must leave soon.” Old Man Jin said, “Benefactor, since you are here, how can I let you leave just like that?” The old man took Lu Da’s staff and bundle, invited him upstairs, and had him sit. He told his daughter, “Keep the benefactor company. I will prepare food.” Lu Da said, “Do not go to any trouble. Just make something simple.” The old man said, “Your great kindness, Commandant, could never be repaid even with my life. A little plain food is nothing.” The woman stayed with Lu Da upstairs. Old Man Jin went down, called the new young servant, told the maid to light the fire, and went out with the servant to the market. He bought fresh fish, tender chicken, smoked goose, salted fish, fresh fruit, and other foods. He opened wine and prepared dishes. Soon everything was ready and carried upstairs.

Three cups, three pairs of chopsticks, food, fruit, and dishes were set on the table. A maid warmed wine in a silver pot. Father and daughter took turns toasting Lu Da. Old Man Jin knelt and bowed. Commandant Lu said, “Old man, why such a heavy bow? You will shorten my life.” Old Man Jin said, “Benefactor, hear me. When we first arrived here, we wrote a red paper tablet and burned a stick of incense morning and evening. Father and daughter worship you every day. Today you have come in person. How could we not bow?” Lu Da said, “It is rare to see such gratitude.”

The three drank slowly. Toward evening, they suddenly heard a commotion downstairs. Commandant Lu opened the window and saw twenty or thirty men below, all holding white wooden staffs, shouting, “Drag him down!” Among them a man on horseback shouted, “Do not let that scoundrel get away!” Lu Da saw the situation was bad, grabbed a stool, and was about to throw it downstairs. Old Man Jin shouted quickly, “Everyone, do not move!” He hurried downstairs, went to the man on horseback, and said a few words. The man laughed, ordered the twenty or thirty men to scatter and go back.

The man on horseback dismounted and entered the house. Old Man Jin invited Commandant Lu downstairs. The man bowed low and said, “Hearing is not as good as seeing. Now that I have met you, I know the rumors are true. Brave Commandant, please accept my bow.” Lu Da asked Old Man Jin, “Who is this? I do not know him. Why does he bow to me?” The old man said, “This is my daughter’s husband, Squire Zhao. Just now he thought I had brought a strange man upstairs to drink, so he came with his farmhands to make trouble. After I explained, he sent them away.” Lu Da said, “So that is it. No wonder, Squire.” Squire Zhao again invited Commandant Lu upstairs to sit, and Old Man Jin set out wine and food again. Squire Zhao asked Lu Da to sit in the place of honor. Lu Da said, “How dare I?” The squire said, “It is only my respect. I have long heard you are a hero. Meeting you today is a great fortune.” Lu Da said, “I am a rough man, and a murderer under sentence of death. If you, Squire, do not dislike me and are willing to be my friend, then whenever you need me, I will serve you.” Squire Zhao was very pleased. He asked about the killing of Zheng the butcher. The two chatted and discussed staff techniques, drinking until midnight before resting.

The next morning, Squire Zhao said, “It may not be safe here. Better come stay at my manor for a while.” Lu Da asked, “Where is your manor?” The squire said, “More than ten li from here, a place called Seven Treasures Village.” Lu Da said, “Very good.” The squire first sent a man back to the manor to bring two horses. By noon the horses arrived. The squire asked Commandant Lu to mount, told a farmhand to carry the luggage. Lu Da took leave of Jin father and daughter, and rode with Squire Zhao to Seven Treasures Village, chatting on the way. Soon they reached the manor and dismounted. Squire Zhao took Lu Da by the hand into the thatched hall. They sat according to host and guest. He ordered a sheep killed and wine set out. At night he prepared a guest room. The next day he again prepared wine and food. Lu Da said, “You show me such great kindness. I do not know how to repay it.” Squire Zhao said, “All men under heaven are brothers. Why speak of repayment?”

We need not tell idle talk. Lu Da stayed at Squire Zhao’s manor for five or seven days. One day, while the two were chatting in the study, Old Man Jin rushed to the manor, went straight into the study, and saw Squire Zhao and Commandant Lu. After making sure no one was nearby, he said to Lu Da, “Benefactor, it is not that I am suspicious. Last time I invited you upstairs to drink, the squire misunderstood and came with farmhands, making a scene. That matter has spread, and people are suspicious. Yesterday three or four government runners were asking around the neighborhood. I fear they will soon come to the village to arrest you. If something happens, what shall we do?” Lu Da said, “If that is so, I will leave on my own.” Squire Zhao said, “If I keep you here and something happens, I fear you will blame me. If I do not keep you, it is hard to save face. I have a plan that can keep you perfectly safe and let you take refuge with peace of mind. I only fear you may not be willing.” Lu Da said, “I am a man who deserves death. As long as I have a place to stay, there is nothing I am unwilling to do.” Squire Zhao said, “If so, that is best. Thirty li from here is Mount Wutai. On the mountain is the Manjusri Monastery, originally the sacred place of Bodhisattva Manjusri. There are five or six hundred monks in the monastery. The abbot, Elder Zhizhen, is my sworn brother. My ancestors donated money to the monastery and were its patrons. I once made a vow to have a monk ordained there. I long ago bought a blank ordination certificate, but I have never found a reliable person to fulfill the vow. If you are willing, I will prepare all the expenses. Are you truly willing to shave your head and become a monk?” Lu Da thought, “Even if I leave now, I have nowhere to go. Better to take this road.” So he said, “Since you, Squire, have arranged it for me, I am willing to become a monk. I rely on your care.” They agreed at once. That night they packed clothes, travel money, silk gifts, and bundles. Early the next morning, farmhands carried the luggage, and the two set out for Mount Wutai. After the hour of the Dragon, they reached the foot of the mountain. Commandant Lu looked at Mount Wutai. Truly it was a mighty mountain. He saw:

Peaks covered in clouds and mist, sunlight turning on the mountainside. The mountain rose high as if joined to the sky; steep peaks pierced the clouds. Flowers, grass, and trees before the rocks quietly gave off fragrance in the spring wind; vines at the cave mouth, wet with last night’s rain, hung tender branches. Mountain waterfalls flew down; moonlight on the water was cold. Ancient pines grew on the cliffs; bronze bells on the trees swayed like dragon tails. The mountain colors were dyed like blue pigment, adorned with natural green. Its roots stretched three thousand zhang; its force could swallow hundreds of prefectures.

Squire Zhao and Lu Da rode up the mountain in two sedan chairs and first sent a farmhand ahead to announce them. At the monastery gate, the administrator monks and supervising monks came out to welcome them. The two dismounted and sat in a pavilion outside the mountain gate. When Elder Zhizhen heard, he came out with the senior monk and attendants to welcome them. Squire Zhao and Lu Da came forward and bowed. The elder joined his palms and asked, “Patron, you have come from afar. You must be tired.” Squire Zhao replied, “There is a small matter. I have come specially to trouble you, Elder.” The elder said, “Please, Squire, come to my quarters for tea.” Squire Zhao walked ahead, Lu Da followed. He looked at the Manjusri Monastery. Truly it was a great monastery. He saw:

The mountain gate leaned against steep ridges; the Buddha hall rose close to the blue clouds. The bell tower joined the high sky; the scripture library faced the peaks. The fragrant kitchen had a clear spring; the monks’ rooms were surrounded by rosy clouds. The elder’s quarters were high near the Milky Way; the meditation hall was hidden in mist and clouds. White apes often brought fruit and struck the wooden fish with stones; spotted deer daily carried fresh flowers to offer before the Buddha. The seven-story pagoda rose into the clouds; holy monks had cultivated here for a thousand years.

The elder invited Squire Zhao and Lu Da into his quarters. He asked the squire to sit in the guest seat. Lu Da sat directly on the meditation chair at the lower end. The squire whispered to Lu Da, “You have come here to become a monk. How can you sit facing the elder?” Lu Da said, “I do not understand these rules.” He rose and stood beside the squire. The senior monk, the disciplinarian, attendants, supervising monks, and administrator monks stood in two rows, east and west. The farmhands set down the sedan chairs and carried the gift boxes into the quarters, placing them in front. The elder said, “Why bring gifts again? The monastery often troubles you, patron.” Squire Zhao said, “A small gift, not worth mentioning.” The acolytes and novices took the gifts away. Squire Zhao stood and said, “I have one matter to report to the Great Monk. I once made a vow to have a monk ordained in your honorable monastery. The ordination certificate is ready, but I have never found the right person. Today my cousin, surnamed Lu, named Da, a soldier by birth, feels the world is bitter and is willing to renounce worldly life and become a monk. I beg you, Elder, to accept him. For my sake, shave his head and make him a monk. All expenses I will provide. I beg you to grant this. I am deeply grateful.” The elder listened and replied, “This matter can bring honor to our monastery. It is not difficult. First, have tea.” An acolyte brought tea. The tea was excellent. A poem says:

Jade buds and golden sprouts are the finest tea; monks are very particular in making it.  
White foam rises in rabbit-fur cups; tiny bubbles form in boiling water.  
It drives away sleep and adds freshness to the whole body.  
Immortal tea should grow in the peach-blossom spring; it should not be transplanted near the capital.

After the elder, Squire Zhao, and the others drank tea, the tea things were cleared. The elder called the senior monk and disciplinarian to discuss the ordination and told the supervising and administrator monks to prepare a vegetarian feast. The senior monk and the other monks discussed privately: “This man does not look like a monk. His eyes are like a bandit’s.” The monks said, “Guest master, go entertain the guests. We will discuss with the elder.” The guest master came out and invited Squire Zhao and Lu Da to the guest hall to wait. The senior monk and the others reported to the elder: “The man who wants to become a monk has a fierce look and a rough nature. He should not be ordained. I fear he will bring trouble to the monastery in the future.” The elder said, “He is with our patron Squire Zhao. We cannot refuse him for face. Do not doubt. Let me look at him.” The elder lit a stick of incense, sat cross-legged on the meditation chair, and recited a spell, entering meditation. When the incense burned out, the elder came back and said to the monks, “Ordain him. This man corresponds to a star in heaven. His nature is upright. Though he looks fierce now and his fate is troubled, in the future he will attain the fruit. None of you can compare with him. Remember my words. Do not block him.” The senior monk said, “Elder, you are set on protecting him. We can only obey. We advised you, but you did not listen. There is nothing we can do.”

The elder had a vegetarian feast prepared and invited Squire Zhao and the others to eat in his quarters. After the meal, the supervising monk recorded the accounts. Squire Zhao brought out silver and had materials bought. Monk shoes, robes, caps, cassocks, and other items were made in the monastery. In a day or two all were ready. The elder chose an auspicious day. The great bell and Dharma drum were struck, and all monks were assembled in the Dharma hall. Five or six hundred monks stood in order, wearing cassocks, came before the Dharma seat, joined palms, and divided into two rows. Squire Zhao brought out silver ingots, gifts, incense, and candles, bowed before the Dharma seat, and read the vow. An acolyte led Lu Da to the Dharma seat. The disciplinarian told Lu Da to remove his head wrap and divide his hair into nine coils. The barber first shaved the hair around the sides. He was about to shave the beard. Lu Da said, “Leave me some beard.” The monks could not help laughing. Elder Zhizhen sat on the Dharma seat and said, “Everyone, hear the verse.” He recited:

“Not an inch of grass remains; the six senses are pure.  
We shave you clean, to avoid contention.”

After the verse, the elder shouted, “Shave it all clean!” The barber shaved off the beard too with one stroke. The senior monk brought the blank ordination certificate to the Dharma seat and asked the elder to give a Dharma name. The elder held the certificate and recited:

“A point of spiritual light is worth a thousand pieces of gold.  
The Buddha Dharma is vast; I give you the name Zhishen.”

After giving the name, the elder passed down the certificate. The scribe monk filled it out and gave it to Lu Zhishen to keep. The elder also gave him monk’s robes and a cassock and told Zhishen to put them on. The supervising monk led him before the Dharma seat. The elder reached out, touched his crown, and gave him the precepts: “First, believe in the Three Treasures—Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. Second, observe the Buddha Dharma. Third, respect your teacher and fellow monks. These are the Three Refuges. The Five Precepts: first, do not kill; second, do not steal; third, do not commit sexual misconduct; fourth, do not crave wine; fifth, do not lie.” Zhishen did not understand the Zen way of responding. He simply said, “I will remember.” The monks all laughed. After the precepts, Squire Zhao invited the monks to the Cloud Hall, burned incense, and spread a feast. The monastery officers all received gifts. The administrator monk took Lu Zhishen to meet his senior and junior fellow monks and then took him to the Hall of Choosing Buddha behind the monks’ hall to sit in meditation. That night passed without incident.

The next day, Squire Zhao prepared to take his leave. The elder could not keep him. After the morning vegetarian meal, the elder and the monks escorted him out the mountain gate. Squire Zhao joined his palms and said, “Elder and all masters, please be patient with him. My brother Zhishen is rough and direct. In daily life he may be rude, speak offensively, and unintentionally break the rules. For my sake, please forgive him.” The elder said, “Rest easy, Squire. I will slowly teach him to chant and meditate.” The squire said, “In the future I will surely repay you.” He called Zhishen under a pine tree and whispered, “Brother, from now on things are different. Hold yourself in check in all things. Do not be arrogant. If you cause great trouble, it will be hard for us to meet again. Take care, take care. I will send clothes.” Zhishen said, “No need for you to say more, brother. I will remember.” Squire Zhao took leave of the elder and the others, got into his sedan chair, and with his farmhands carried the empty chairs and gift boxes down the mountain home. The elder led the monks back into the monastery.

Now Lu Zhishen returned to the meditation platform in the Hall of Choosing Buddha and fell asleep as soon as he lay down. The monks meditating on either side pushed him up and said, “No, you cannot. Since you have become a monk, why do you not learn to meditate?” Zhishen said, “I am sleeping. What business is it of yours?” The monk said, “Good heavens!” Zhishen rolled up his sleeves and said, “I have eaten soft-shelled turtle. What good heavens?” The monk sighed, “How bitter.” Zhishen said, “Soft-shelled turtle has a big belly, fat and sweet, very delicious. What is bitter about it?” The monks on both sides stopped paying attention and let him sleep. The next day they planned to go complain to the elder. The senior monk advised, “The elder said he will attain the fruit in the future and we cannot compare with him. He is protecting him. Everyone bear with it. Do not argue with him.” The monks had to let it go. When Zhishen saw no one controlled him, at night he lay straight across the meditation platform and slept. His snoring was like thunder. In the middle of the night he got up to relieve himself, shouting loudly, and also relieved himself behind the Buddha hall, everywhere. The attendants reported to the elder: “Zhishen is extremely rude. He has no manner of a monk at all. How can the monastery keep such a person?” The elder scolded, “Do not talk nonsense! For the patron’s sake, he will change later.” From then on no one dared complain again.

Lu Zhishen stayed at Mount Wutai Monastery. Before he knew it, he had been causing trouble for four or five months. In early winter, Zhishen had been quiet for a long time, and his heart grew restless. One day the weather was clear. Zhishen put on a black monk’s robe, tied a blue belt, changed into monk’s shoes, and strode out the mountain gate. He wandered to the mid-mountain pavilion, sat on the long bench, and thought: “This is really boring! Before, I had good wine and meat every day. Now I am a monk, thin and hungry. Squire Zhao has not sent anything these days. My mouth feels bland. If only I could drink some wine.” As he thought of wine, he saw in the distance a man carrying two buckets and singing as he came up the mountain. The buckets were covered. The man held a wine ladle and sang:

“On Mount Jiuli the battlefield lies;  
A cowherd finds old swords and spears.  
The wind blows the Black River water,  
Like Lady Yu bidding farewell to the Hegemon King.”

Lu Zhishen watched the man carry the buckets up. The man set down his load at the pavilion. Zhishen asked, “Hey, man, what is in your buckets?” The man said, “Good wine.” Zhishen asked, “How much for a bucket?” The man said, “Monk, are you joking?” Zhishen said, “Why would I joke with you?” The man said, “I carry this wine up the mountain to sell only to the laborers and chair-bearers who work for the monastery. The elder has ordered that if we sell wine to monks, we will be fined, our capital confiscated, and we will be driven out. We depend on the monastery’s capital and live in monastery houses. How dare I sell to you?” Zhishen said, “You really will not sell?” The man said, “Kill me and I still will not sell.” Zhishen said, “I will not kill you. I just want to buy wine.” The man saw things were bad, picked up his load, and started to leave. Zhishen ran down from the pavilion, grabbed the carrying pole with both hands, and kicked him between the legs. The man clutched himself and squatted on the ground for a long time, unable to rise. Zhishen carried the two buckets to the pavilion, took the ladle, opened the lids, and drank the cold wine directly. Soon he finished one bucket. Zhishen said, “Man, come to the monastery tomorrow for your money.” The man, his pain easing, feared the elder would find out and he would lose his job. He swallowed his anger and did not dare ask for money. He divided the wine into two half-buckets, picked them up, took his ladle, and ran quickly down the mountain.

Lu Zhishen sat in the pavilion for a long time. The wine rose to his head. He came down from the pavilion, sat a while by the roots of a pine tree, and the wine grew stronger. He took off his monk’s robe and draped it over his shoulder, tied the sleeves around his waist, revealing the tattoos on his back, and swaggered up the mountain. Look at him:

Head heavy, feet light, face red and eyes bloodshot under the moon; body swaying back and forth, staggering east and west in the clear wind. He reeled up the mountain like a crane in the wind; swayed back to the monastery like a turtle out of water. He lifted his foot as if to kick a dragon in the stream; clenched his fist as if to strike a tiger below the mountain. He pointed at the heavenly palace and cursed the gods; he wanted to storm the underworld and seize the judges. A drunkard with bared chest, a flower monk who would kill and burn.

As Lu Zhishen neared the mountain gate, two gate monks saw him from afar. They took bamboo canes and blocked the gate, shouting, “You are a Buddhist disciple. How dare you come back to the monastery dead drunk? You have seen the notice: if a monk drinks wine and breaks the precepts, he gets forty strokes of the bamboo cane and is expelled. If the gate monks let a drunken monk in, they are beaten too. Go down the mountain quickly, and we will spare you a beating.” Lu Zhishen had just become a monk, but his old temper had not changed. He glared and cursed, “Rascals! You want to beat me? Then I will fight you!” The gate monks saw the situation was bad. One ran into the monastery to report to the supervising monk; the other held the bamboo cane and tried to block him. Zhishen raised his hand and slapped the gate monk so hard he could not stand steady. As the monk struggled, Zhishen punched him again and knocked him down at the gate, where he could only cry out in pain. Zhishen said, “I will spare you.” He stumbled into the monastery.

When the supervising monk received the gate monk’s report, he called the laborers and chair-bearers, twenty or thirty men, all holding white wooden staffs. They rushed out from the west corridor and ran right into Zhishen. Zhishen saw them, gave a great shout like thunder, and charged forward. The men did not know at first that he was a former officer. Seeing his ferocity, they panicked and retreated into the scripture hall, closing the carved lattice doors. Zhishen rushed to the steps, broke the lattice doors with a punch and a kick. The twenty or thirty men had nowhere to hide. He seized a wooden staff and chased them out of the scripture hall.

The supervising monk hurried to report to the elder. When the elder heard, he came to the corridor with three or five attendants and shouted, “Zhishen, do not be rude!” Although Zhishen was drunk, he recognized the elder. He threw down the staff, came forward, bowed, pointed at the corridor, and said to the elder, “I drank two bowls of wine and did not provoke them. They brought men to beat me.” The elder said, “For my sake, go to sleep quickly. We will talk tomorrow.” Lu Zhishen said, “If not for the elder’s face, I would have beaten these bald donkeys to death.” The elder told attendants to help Zhishen back to his meditation platform. He fell down and snored loudly. The monastery officers gathered around the elder and complained, “We advised you before, Elder. Now see what has happened. How can the monastery keep such a man? He breaks the rules.” The elder said, “Although he makes trouble now, in the future he will attain the fruit. There is no choice. For the sake of our patron Squire Zhao, spare him this time. Tomorrow I will reprimand him.” The monks sneered, “What a muddled elder!” and went back to rest.

The next day after the morning vegetarian meal, the elder sent an attendant to call Zhishen from the meditation hall. He was still not up. When he rose, he put on his monk’s robe, went barefoot, and ran out of the meditation hall like a gust of wind. The attendant was startled and chased after him. He found him relieving himself behind the Buddha hall. The attendant held back laughter, waited until he was done, and said, “The elder wants to speak with you.” Zhishen followed the attendant to the elder’s quarters. The elder said, “Zhishen, you were a military man. Squire Zhao paid for your ordination, and I gave you the precepts. I told you the five rules: do not kill, do not steal, do not commit sexual misconduct, do not crave wine, do not lie. These are the basic rules for monks. For a monk, the first thing is not to crave wine. Last night you got dead drunk, beat the gate monk, broke the red lattice doors of the scripture hall, chased away the laborers, and made a great noise. Why did you do this?” Zhishen knelt and said, “I will never dare again.” The elder said, “Since you have become a monk, how can you break the wine precept first and disturb the rules? If not for Squire Zhao’s face, I would certainly expel you. Do not do it again.” Zhishen rose, joined his palms, and said, “I dare not, I dare not.” The elder kept him for breakfast in his quarters, advised him kindly, gave him a fine cloth monk’s robe and a pair of monk’s shoes, and sent him back to the meditation hall.

Long ago the famous Tang scholar Zhang Xu wrote a poem called “Song of Drunkenness,” especially about wine. It is very good:

Golden cups filled with fine wine, raised in both hands, eyes shining.  
He stretches his neck like a jade rainbow; one gulp and he still thinks the rivers and lakes are too small.  
Once he feasted before the Jade Emperor’s hall; few could match his drinking.  
Ripe peaches piled like coral; nectar wine colored like amber.  
He drinks several hundred cups, his skin glowing.  
Heaven and Earth heard of his great capacity and gave him three thousand piculs of fine wine.  
Immortal boys kept urging him to drink; when drunk, his muscles and bones felt free.  
The spring god asked him to write new poems; he laughed and chanted to the three mountains.  
He wrote five hundred words with his brush, not noticing his cap falling at the wine table.  
After the feast he was too drunk to remember the way home; riding a phoenix, he wandered by mistake into an immortal palace.  
Immortal boys helped him down from the purple clouds; he could not tell east from west or north from south.  
One drink, a thousand cups; a hundred poems, cursive brushwork sweeping freely.

Drinking should not be taken to excess. It is often said wine can make things happen and also ruin them. A timid man when drunk may become bold, let alone a man of fiery temper.

Now after Lu Zhishen made a drunken scene, he did not dare leave the monastery for three or four months. One day the weather was very hot. It was the second month. He walked out of the monks’ quarters and strolled outside the mountain gate, admiring Mount Wutai and praising it again and again. Suddenly he heard a clanging sound from below the mountain, carried up by the wind. Zhishen returned to his room, took some silver, put it in his bosom, and walked down the mountain step by step. Outside the archway inscribed “Wutai Blessed Land,” there was a market town of about seven or eight hundred households. There were butchers, vegetable sellers, and also wine shops and noodle shops. Zhishen thought: “What a fool I was! If I had known there was a market here, I would not have robbed that bucket of wine. I could have come down and bought it myself. My mouth has been bland these days. Let me go see what there is to eat.” The clanging sound was a blacksmith hammering iron. Next door was a sign reading “Father and Son Inn.”

Zhishen walked to the blacksmith shop and saw three men working iron. Zhishen said, “Blacksmith, do you have good steel?” The blacksmiths saw Lu Zhishen’s newly shaved head and short beard and fierce looks. They were already a little afraid. The blacksmith put down his hammer and said, “Master, please sit. What do you want made?” Zhishen said, “I want a monk’s staff and a monk’s knife. Do you have good iron?” The blacksmith said, “I happen to have good iron. How heavy do you want the staff? As for the knife, just tell me.” Zhishen said, “I want one weighing a hundred catties.” The blacksmith laughed. “That is too heavy, Master. I can make it, but I fear you will not be able to lift it. Even Lord Guan’s great saber was only eighty-one catties.” Zhishen said impatiently, “Am I not as good as Lord Guan? He was only a man.” The blacksmith said, “I am advising you kindly. Forty or fifty catties is already very heavy.” Zhishen said, “Then as you say, make it like Lord Guan’s blade, eighty-one catties.” The blacksmith said, “Master, it is too heavy. It will not look good and will not be easy to use. I suggest a water-polished monk’s staff of sixty-two catties. If you cannot lift it, do not blame me. I will make the monk’s knife from good iron.” Zhishen asked, “How much silver for both?” The blacksmith said, “No bargaining. The real price is five taels.” Zhishen said, “Then five taels. If you make them well, there will be a reward.” The blacksmith took the silver and said, “I will start at once.” Zhishen said, “I have some loose silver here. Come have a bowl of wine with me.” The blacksmith said, “Master, go ahead. I must work. I cannot accompany you.”

Zhishen left the blacksmith shop. After twenty or thirty steps, he saw a wine banner hanging under the eaves. Zhishen lifted the curtain, went in, sat down, and banged the table, shouting, “Bring wine!” The shopkeeper said, “Forgive me, Master. This house and its capital belong to the monastery. The elder has ordered that if we sell wine to monks, our capital will be confiscated and we will be driven out. Please forgive me.” Zhishen said, “Just sell me a little. I will not say I bought it here.” The shopkeeper said, “No. Master, go elsewhere. Do not blame me.” Zhishen had to rise and said, “If I can buy wine elsewhere, I will come back to you.” He walked out and after a few steps saw another wine banner. He went straight in, sat down, and shouted, “Shopkeeper, sell me wine quickly.” The shopkeeper said, “Master, why are you so unreasonable? You should know the elder’s order. Do not cut off our livelihood.” Zhishen would not leave and pleaded again and again, but the shopkeeper would not sell. Zhishen knew he would not sell, rose, and left. He went to four or five shops in a row, and none would sell. Zhishen thought of a plan: “If I do not think of a way, how will I get wine?” Far away in the apricot blossoms, at the end of the town, there was a small shop with a straw broom hanging as a wine sign. Zhishen went over. It was a small country wine shop. He saw:

An old country shop of many years, by the ancient road beside mulberry and hemp.  
White wooden benches for guests; a low fence woven of thorns.  
Yellow millet wine brewed in a broken jar; a blue cloth wine flag at the brushwood gate.  
And one amusing thing: a wine immortal painted on the mud wall.

Lu Zhishen lifted the curtain, entered, sat by the small window, and called, “Shopkeeper, bring a bowl of wine for a passing monk!” The shopkeeper looked at him and asked, “Monk, where are you from?” Zhishen said, “I am a wandering monk, passing by. I want to buy wine.” The shopkeeper said, “If you are a monk from Mount Wutai Monastery, I do not dare sell to you.” Zhishen said, “I am not. Bring the wine quickly.” The shopkeeper saw that Lu Zhishen’s looks and voice were unusual and asked, “How much wine do you want?” Zhishen said, “Do not ask how much. Just pour big bowls.” After about ten bowls, Zhishen asked, “Do you have meat? Bring a plate.” The shopkeeper said, “There was some beef this morning, but it is sold out. There are only vegetables.” Zhishen suddenly smelled meat. He went outside and saw a dog cooking in a pot by the wall. Zhishen said, “You clearly have dog meat. Why will you not sell it to me?” The shopkeeper said, “I thought monks do not eat dog meat, so I did not ask.” Zhishen said, “I have silver.” He handed the silver to the shopkeeper. “Sell me half.” The shopkeeper quickly brought out half a dog, cooked, mashed garlic, and set it before Zhishen. Zhishen was delighted. He tore the dog meat with his hands, dipped it in garlic, and ate, drinking another ten bowls of wine. He drank happily and kept asking for more. The shopkeeper was astonished and urged, “Monk, that is about enough. Stop!” Zhishen glared and said, “I am not eating without paying. What business is it of yours?” The shopkeeper asked, “How much more?” Zhishen said, “Another bucket.” The shopkeeper had to ladle another bucket. Soon Zhishen finished it, and tucked a dog’s leg into his bosom. Before going out, he said, “The rest of the silver—I will come eat again tomorrow.” The shopkeeper was dumbfounded and did not know what to do. He watched him go toward Mount Wutai.

Zhishen walked to the mid-mountain pavilion and sat for a while. The wine surged upward. He stood and said, “I have not exercised my fists and feet for a long time. My body is stiff. Let me practice a few routines.” He went down from the pavilion, gripped his sleeves with both hands, and punched up, down, left, and right. He used too much force and rammed his shoulder into a pavilion pillar. With a crash, the pillar broke, and half the pavilion collapsed. The gate monks heard the great noise halfway up the mountain. They climbed high and looked. They saw Lu Zhishen stumbling up the mountain step by step. The two gate monks cried, “Bad! Last time this drunk made trouble. This time he is even drunker!” They immediately closed the mountain gate, barred it, and peeped through the crack. Zhishen rushed to the gate and saw it tightly shut. He pounded on it like a drum. The gate monks did not dare open. Zhishen knocked for a while, turned and looked at the guardian figure on the left, and shouted, “You big fellow, you do not help me knock, and you still clench your fist to scare me. I am not afraid of you!” He jumped up the steps, pulled open the railing as easily as pulling a scallion, picked up a broken piece of wood, and struck the guardian’s leg. Mud and paint showered down. The gate monks saw and hurried to report to the elder. Zhishen waited a while, turned and looked at the guardian on the right, and shouted, “You open your big mouth and laugh at me too.” He jumped up the right steps and struck the guardian’s foot twice. With a great crash, the guardian fell from its base. Zhishen held the broken wood and laughed loudly.

The two gate monks reported to the elder. The elder said, “Do not provoke him. Keep away.” The senior monk, supervising monk, administrator monk, and all the officers came to the elder’s quarters and reported, “This wild monk is terribly drunk today. He has smashed the mid-mountain pavilion and the guardian figures at the gate. What shall we do?” The elder said, “Even the Son of Heaven yields to a drunk man, let alone me. The guardians are broken; tell our patron Squire Zhao to pay for new ones. The pavilion has collapsed; tell him to rebuild it. Leave him alone for now.” The monks said, “The guardians are the protectors of the mountain gate. How can they be replaced so casually?” The elder said, “Never mind the guardians. Even if he smashed the three Buddha images in the main hall, there would be nothing to do but keep away. Have you forgotten how violent he was last time?” The monks left the elder’s quarters, saying among themselves, “The elder really cannot tell right from wrong! Gate monks, do not open the gate. Listen from inside.” Zhishen shouted outside, “You bald donkeys! If you do not let me in, I will burn down this broken monastery.” When the monks heard this, they told the gate monks, “Pull the bar and let the beast in. If we do not open, he really will set a fire!” The gate monks carefully pulled the bar and quickly hid. The other monks also hid.

Lu Zhishen pushed the mountain gate with both hands. He fell flat on his back. He got up, rubbed his head, and headed straight for the monks’ hall. When he reached the Hall of Choosing Buddha, the monks were meditating. They saw Zhishen lift the curtain and come in. They were all startled and lowered their heads. Zhishen went to a meditation platform. His throat worked, and he vomited on the floor. The stench was terrible. The monks all said, “Good heavens,” and covered their noses and mouths. After vomiting, Zhishen climbed onto the platform, tore off his robe belt, and took out the dog’s leg from his bosom. Zhishen said, “Good, I am hungry.” He tore it apart and ate. The monks covered their faces with their sleeves. The two monks on either side moved far away. Zhishen saw them move and tore off a piece of dog meat. He held it out to the monk above and said, “You try some too.” The monk above covered his face tightly. Zhishen said, “You will not eat?” He stuffed the meat toward the mouth of the monk beside him. The monk panicked and tried to get down from the platform. Zhishen grabbed his ear and forced the meat into his mouth. Four or five monks opposite came to intervene. Zhishen threw down the dog meat and swung his fists at their bald heads. The whole hall of monks cried out, gathered their bowls and robes, and prepared to flee. This was called “the hall rolling up and scattering.” The senior monk could not stop it at all. Zhishen fought his way out. Most of the monks fled to the corridor. The supervising and administrator monks, without reporting to the elder, gathered the officers, called the laborers and chair-bearers, one or two hundred men, with staffs and cloths wrapped around their heads, and rushed into the monks’ hall. Zhishen saw them and gave a great shout. He had no weapon. He rushed to the Buddha altar, overturned the offering table, broke off two legs, and fought his way out of the hall. He saw:

Anger rushing to the sky, roars like thunder. A body eight or nine feet tall like a fierce beast, a heart full of ambition. He could not suppress his courage; his eyes were wide open. He charged left and right like a wounded leopard; he dashed forward and back like a shot wolf. Even the Dharma protectors could not stop him; the guardians had to give way. He was like a falcon breaking its leash, like a mad monkey breaking an iron lock.

Lu Zhishen swung the two table legs and fought his way out. The monks saw how fierce he was and dragged their staffs back to the corridor. Zhishen swung the table legs and charged. The monks on both sides surrounded him. Zhishen flew into a rage. He struck east and west, south and north, sparing only the two ends. He fought all the way to the Dharma hall. The elder shouted, “Zhishen, no rudeness! Monks, stop!” More than ten on both sides had been wounded. When they saw the elder coming, they withdrew. Zhishen saw them scatter, threw down the table legs, and cried, “Elder, speak for me.” By now he was seven or eight parts sober. The elder said, “Zhishen, you have brought trouble on me. Last time you got drunk and made a scene in the monks’ hall. I wrote to Squire Zhao, and he wrote to apologize to the monks. Today you again got dead drunk and were rude, broke the rules, smashed the pavilion, broke the guardians. Those can still be repaired. But you scattered all the monks and made them flee. That is no small crime. This is the sacred place of Bodhisattva Manjusri on Mount Wutai, a pure incense place for a thousand years. How can it tolerate you ruining it like this? First come back to my quarters with me for a few days. I will arrange another place for you.” Zhishen followed the elder back to his quarters and rested for the night.

The next day, Elder Zhizhen discussed with the senior monk, took out some silver to help him, and sent him away. He first notified Squire Zhao. The elder wrote a letter and sent two runners directly to Squire Zhao’s manor to explain and wait for a reply. After reading the letter, Squire Zhao was helpless. He wrote back to the elder: “The broken guardians and pavilion I will pay to repair. Zhishen is up to the elder to deal with.” When the elder received the reply, he called an attendant to bring a black monk’s robe, a pair of monk’s shoes, and ten taels of silver. He called Zhishen into his room. The elder said, “Zhishen, last time you got drunk and made a scene in the monks’ hall, I considered it a fault. This time you got drunk again, smashed the guardians, knocked down the pavilion, and made all the monks flee the meditation hall. Your crime is heavy, and you wounded many monks. This is a pure place for leaving home. Your behavior is truly improper. For the sake of our patron Squire Zhao, I give you this letter. Go elsewhere to settle. I cannot keep you here any longer. I have understood in the night and will give you four lines of verse. They can benefit you for life.” Zhishen said, “Master, where do you tell your disciple to go? I wish to hear the four lines.” Elder Zhizhen then spoke a verse to Lu Zhishen, pointing him to another place. From this would come: this man would raise his monk’s staff against heroes throughout the world, draw his monk’s knife to cut down evildoers in the world. His fame would spread a thousand li beyond the northern frontier, and in the end he would attain the fruit in Jiangnan. What exactly did Elder Zhizhen say to Zhishen? Listen to the next chapter.