It has been told how Holy Auntie, half in dream and half for real, discussed a matter of destiny in a meeting with Wu Zetian and learnt that her daughter Mei'r was in fact the reincarnation of Zhang Changzong. And she was told that Empress Wu had secretly become a man in her present life and that the two former lovers would be reunited in the district of Beizhou; Mei'r would be crowned Queen and the former Empress, King. As if this weren't strange enough, we have seen how Hu Mei'r had indeed disappeared from the woman's sight, and that she had been abducted and entrusted to that Prince Chongxiao of the spirits; it was all so strange! And it has been said that the old woman staggered onward in dazed grief, living on her feet; it's been enough to make even me, your humble storyteller, tired.

And putting myself in her place I can imaging what she said upon arrival at some shelter. "The pilgimage to Mt Hua was all Mei's idea," she probably uttered, "so I'll burn incense at the Shrine of the Peak, for the Lord of Heaven to bless and keep her, wherever she may be." And I can just see the kind of tranquil, remote spot that she found where she could rest and, for better or worse, wait for three years to see how things would work out. And as for Quezi having been taken in by the Daoist Wizard, well, he found his teacher to be thoroughly kind and gentle and hasn't entertained any notion of running away. Now, let's get on with the story.

After worship she beheld the beautiful scenery and went on to visit the great teacher Chen Bo. But upon asking directions she received a shock.

"Well," answered someone, "this here Xiyi gorge is where his mortal remains lie..." Suddenly she realized that Chen Bo had died and perhaps become an Immortal there. And she fell in love with the natural serenity of the gorge and passed the nights there. By day she begged alms and only wandered to and fro in the mountains. We can easily imagine how she looked in on passing pilgrims, bonzes, wizards and various nuns playing among the clouds, and spending her bitterly gained pennies on a little wine and meat for her substanance.

One fine day she found herself together with a few other old beggar women like herself, desperately awaiting some rich pilgrim to pass by. Just as the shadow on the sundial passed passed noon what did they see but a pair of sedan chairs bearing a lady and her maidservant up the mountain for worship! The pack of mendicants waited until the visitors had left the shrine, then pounced upon them for alms.

"We haven't got any coins on us" answered the the lady in the palanquin. Hearing this, the old women suddenly stepped back in shocked disappointment. Now, this crowd hadn't received a single copper since waking, and having been so sure that the two pilgrims would be good for something they were all too ready to ham it up and hound them to the bitter end for a donation. So our beggars put on quite a show, crying out, one after the other, the lines of a little verse:

The lady in the palanquin was indignant. "I'm not Old Buddha Yang and I'm surely not Granny Yang either!" she answered angrily; "if it's favors you want, go to them and you'll get anything you ask for. Why pick on me like this?" The ragged ranks then dispersed and the priviledged ones in their sedan chairs were born off. The band of poor women sauntered off listlessly in every direction, only sighing with despair at their poor fortunes.

Now all of this had given Holy Auntie cause to reflect, and so she sought out a woman she trusted for some advice.

"What did it mean," she asked, "what she just said about Old Buddha and Granny Yang?"

The woman smiled knowingly. "Here in Huayin County", she answered, "there's a local deputy magistrate named Yang Chun that we all call 'Old Buddha' because of his famous piety and charity. He's really wealthy, too. He and his wife both love Dao and make pilgrimages everywhere." The local woman continued. "No matter Buddhist or Daoist, Monk or Nun, if some worthy soul should bring up the matter of a little sustenance with them, a whole year's stipend may be provided by this blessed couple! And Granny Yang makes two trips up the mountain every year. Every time, each one of us receives more than ten coins from her and she showers us with wheat buns from a basket she carries. This year she came through in the second month. She's bound to be back in autumn; you'll see her then for sure." Holy Auntie trembled deep down inside when she heard those words, and she slept on it that night.

Early next morning she arose and descended the mountain and went forth into Huayin County dressed as a nun. Asking the way to Deputy Yang's house she went there directly, only to be confronted at the door by a sign with four horizontral characters. "Visitors Should Mind Regulations" they read, between a pair of vertical messages: "Attention all bonzes, wizards and nuns: We attend to your sustenance in the West Garden on the 1st day of each season. No charity will ever be given at the front door!"

"That's really odd" thought the woman, darkly. Just then she noticed a guard seated atop a stone lion with his gown open, picking fleas. Seeing her, he hurriedly rearranged his clothes and approached.

"You there!" he shouted, "Get away from there!" The old woman came forth and an interrogation began as to her identitity and intentions.

"I'm a poor Daoist nun from Sichuan," she answered; "Having been inspired to sacrifice atop Mt Hua I've come through your fine county. Now I'm out of cash so I'd like to beg a little charity, and that's about it."

Now, old man Zhang the gatekeeper answered sympathetically.

"You're really out of luck, Sister...up until ten days ago there was no sign like now prohibiting begging at at the door."

"I've long heard," she answered "of the Deputy Magistrate and Madam loving the holy way of Dao. How is it that there are no signs praising the famous 'Old Buddha' and Granny Yang all around here? What could have wiped out their fine works this way?"

"Of course the Master and Lady took pleasure in supporting the many bonzes, wizards, novices and nuns who came by to preach sutras or charms. They lived in the rooms or camped on the grounds of the estate every day of the year, unlike now. And they were even given stipends for travel and clothes upon moving off. This here door was usually crowded with folks taking up collections for charity, not deserted and silent like now. It all started about a month ago when a nun, no older than forty, came up the road from the south. Now, she could chant moral verses about deeds and results, and as Granny Yang loves these Buddhist parables about the wages of good and evil more than anything else, the nun was a guest here for over half a month. But there were also fourteen or fifteen wandering monks who mostly faked the reading of the sutras. And among them were fast switch artists and pickpockets, and a few who were a bit fond of the flesh if you know what I mean." He continued: "Well, our estate fed them on the one hand, while giving them cash and cloth. Who ever imagined that for the most part they were a gang of thieves, and the nun only an inside informer in cahoots with them who cased the house so they could carry off a number of things in a bold strongarm job! Old Master and Madam had to run for their worldly lives! Well, the two of them thought about it, weighed everything and considered it all the continuing result of their own bad deeds from a past life. And so they didn't go to inform the authorities and involve people in the neighboring villages in a criminal matter. But from that time forth they stopped giving daily charity and forbade visitors from entering or presenting requests at the front door. They would only hand out alms at one end of the West Garden on the first day of the first, fourth, seventh and tenth months. Well, old Sister, having missed the first day of the fourth month you really now have no place to turn, as there are none other around here as charitable as our Master. The others will you a couple of coppers at most, but can you call that a real contribution?"

"There are good and bad among folks of the cloth, why, that's really lumping us all together unfairly!"

"Yes, it's really too bad" said Old Zhang, sympathetically.

"You know," said the old woman, "getting some charity isn't my only hope in coming here. I've heard that Old Master and Madam were Boddhisattvas in their previous lives. If it's possible I'd like to meet and consult with them, perhaps coming on another day by the western road."

Suddenly there came the sound of somebody opening the inner door and walking out.

"Our Master's coming," whispered Old Zhang urgently, "hurry and get out of here before you get us both into trouble!" Then he reached inside his gown, pulled out a beat up old change purse and reached inside for a single copper coin which he placed atop the nearest stone lion by the gate. "Now I'm giving you this coin myself," he pleaded, "take it and go, quick!" She still wasn't about to budge. There then appeared a young pageboy leading a proud high-headed white horse out of the gate, now standing fast and holding the bridle by a taunt rope. Deputy Magistrate Yang followed, wearing an official's hat of golden thread on his head and clad in a dark cotton Daoist's gown; his feet were squeezed into crow's foot shoesand he held a Sichuanese fan in his hands. And behind him followed three more pages: one opening a parasol, one holding a folding step fast to his chest, and the other hoding a box, no doubt with an incense candle inside, with both hands; atop it was another smaller box made of red sandalwood and empty. Then a troupe of musicians emerged holding their flutes and drums. Using the folding step, the Old Master himself, Deputy Magistrate Yang, proudly mounted to the saddle and then the entire throng, jostling and shoving, dashed off toward the West.

Old Zhang now buried his anger in her. "Didn't you see our Master leaving? Luckily he didn't catch sight of you! If he had, he would have again scolded us household staff for disregarding his instructions! Look, I'm giving you this coin, you won't take it, what else do you want?"

"Oh,you poor kind old man," she answered, "I don't dare take the hard-earned savings from your purse as charity!" But in a couple of moments before you could wink an eye or say goodbye there suddenly appeared an old man shouldering a carrying pole and loudly peddling childrens' toys right past the front gate. In the still-opened doorway stood a boy of four or five.

"Grampa," shouted the child insistantly, jumping up and down, "buy me a fort to play with!" And seeing that the woman hadn't taken the money Old Zhang reached out and hailed the old man by tugging at the pole. Then taking the coin from atop the stone lion he bought a clay model of a turret and gave it to the delighted little boy.

"Play well and don't break it cause I'm not buying you another one!" he told the tyke who ran laughing and giggling, delighted, back into the doorway with his new toy. The old man then shouldered his wares and he too was gone.

"What relation is that little kid to you?" asked the woman.

"My second grandson" answered Old Zhang. "The pageboy holding the folding step for our Master a few minutes ago is his older brother, my first grandson."

"No wonder there is such a resemblance," she answered, "so quick and clever too! The result of a lifetime of good works being passed down."

"Old Master has lots of pages by his side but he's really fond of my grandson" said Zhang. "Wherever he goes, near or far, he always has him along."

"And where has your Master just gone?" she asked; "he had quite a few musicians along..."

"He's gone out the West Gate to receive the Golden Sutra", answered the gatekeeper.

"And where did this book come from?" she further enquired.

"A monk from Hami, in Turkestan, brought it with him. He was deaf and dumb and lodged at the Temple of Guanyin outside the West Gate. He lived to ninety-nine in perfect health and suddenly passed away. One thing never left his side and that was this Golden Character Sutra that he left behind. Now, the Priest there offered top present the book whoever donated a niche in the wall to receive the monk's remains. Our Master donated a little shrine for the foreigner's holy ashes and commissioned some prayers from the bonzes there as well. He's gone to the Temple today to receive that book and bring it back, and then to offer prayers to Buddha in our own West Garden Shrine."

The old woman was more curious than ever. "What book is it exactly?" she asked.

"Who in the world knows if it's a classic of the Buddha, Dao or for that matter the Kitchen God...who can even recognize half the letters?" he answered.

"If it's in Sanskrit and I get a look at it," said the old woman, "I can explain it to everyone."

Old Zhang broke out into a hearty laugh. "I've heard that this classic is from India in the West and that it's printed in gold leaf. And the letters are different from those of our world. That's why we call it the Golden Sutra. Over at the Temple quite a few learned eyes have passed over it with nobody recognizing anything. Old lady, there are laws against such wild claims!"

"I'm not lying," she insisted, "though only a poor nun I've received the Sixteen Scriptures from the Puxian Bodhisattva so there are no Sutras I can't read, and that's the truth!"

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