The Birth of the Monkey King and the Water Curtain Cave · I

The poem says: Before the primal chaos divided, Heaven and Earth were one disordered haze, a boundless, shadowy void unseen by any mortal eye. Since Pangu shattered the primeval darkness, the grand creation unfolded and pure was severed from impure. Every living being looked up to boundless benevolence, and all things brought to light found their own goodness. If you would know the wondrous deeds of the great cosmic cycle, you must read the chronicle of the Journey to the West.

It is known that the full cycle of Heaven and Earth spans one hundred twenty-nine thousand six hundred years, a period termed one Great Kalpa. Each Great Kalpa is divided into twelve Assemblies, corresponding to the twelve earthly branches: the Rat, the Ox, the Tiger, the Hare, the Dragon, the Snake, the Horse, the Sheep, the Monkey, the Rooster, the Dog, and the Boar. Each Assembly embraces ten thousand eight hundred years. Taking a single day as an analogy: at the hour of the Rat the yang awakens, and at the Ox the cock crows; at the Tiger dawn is still hidden, yet at the Hare the morning sun breaks forth; at the Dragon the morning meal is taken, and at the Snake all is set in motion; at noon, the hour of the Horse, the sun crowns the heavens, and at the Sheep it begins its westward decline; at the Monkey the afternoon softens, and when the day fades after the Rooster, dusk falls in the hour of the Dog, until all rests in silence at the hour of the Boar. In like manner, within the cosmic order, at the close of the Dog Assembly Heaven and Earth grow dark and all living things languish. When five thousand four hundred more years elapse and the Boar Assembly opens, impenetrable blackness blankets the cosmos; humanity and creation vanish entirely between both realms, and this state is named Chaos. After another five thousand four hundred years, as the Boar Assembly draws to an end, renewal stirs: as the Rat Assembly approaches, the cosmos begins to open gently toward the light. As Shao Yong declared: ‘When the winter solstice reaches the midpoint of the Rat, the heart of Heaven remains unchanged; where the first breath of light stirs, none of the ten thousand things has yet been born.’ In that instant, Heaven puts down its earliest roots. Five thousand four hundred years later, at the height of the Rat Assembly, the pure and buoyant essence rises into the celestial vaults: sun, moon, stars, and constellations emerge, known as the Four Luminaries. Thus it is said that Heaven opened in the hour of the Rat. And after another five thousand four hundred years, as the Rat Assembly ends and the Ox approaches, substance condenses and gains solidity. As the Book of Changes proclaims: ‘Great is the creative principle of Heaven! Fecund is the receptive principle of Earth! From it all creatures are born, yielding to Heaven’s will.’ Thus the Earth solidified. After five thousand four hundred more years, at the zenith of the Ox Assembly, the heavy and turbid sank and coagulated into the depths: waters, fire, mountains, rocks, and earth appeared—the Five Elements. Thus it is said that the Earth divided in the hour of the Ox. After another five thousand four hundred years, between the end of the Ox and the dawn of the Tiger, all living beings sprang forth. The calendar records: ‘The breath of Heaven descends, the breath of Earth ascends; Heaven and Earth join in harmony, and all beings come to life.’ Thus heaven cleared and earth grew calm, yin and yang blending in unity. Five thousand four hundred years later, at the height of the Tiger Assembly, men, beasts, and birds were born, establishing the Three Powers: Heaven, Earth, and Man. Thus it is said that Man was born in the hour of the Tiger.

Following Pangu’s primordial division, the Three Sovereigns governed and the Five Emperors ordained the moral order. The world was divided into four great continents: the Eastern Continent of Superior Divinity, the Western Continent of Cattle Bounty, the Southern Continent of the Sacred Tree, and the Northern Continent of High Pastures. Our chronicle unfolds in the Eastern Continent of Superior Divinity. Across the sea lay the realm of Aolai, bordering a vast ocean. In the midst of the waters rose a legendary peak named the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit. This mountain was the ancestral root of ten divine continents and the fountainhead of three immortal islands; shaped at the first division of clear and turbid, it stood formed after the birth of the universe. A majestic mountain indeed! As a poem bears witness: Its majesty commands the ocean billows; its calm subdues the jade-green depths. When the sea roars, silver crests rise and fish flee to their caves; when the waves settle, white froth dances and dragons emerge from the deep. Eastward its proud summit overlooks the waters. Crimson cliffs and fantastic boulders challenge the sky; upon red crags phoenixes sing in pairs, and before precipices solitary qilin slumber. Golden pheasants call from the heights; dragon flights circle stone caverns. Long-lived deer and immortal foxes roam the groves, while celestial birds and black cranes nest among the branches. Rare blossoms and eternal herbs never wither; evergreen pines and emerald cypresses preserve unending spring. Peaches of immortality ripen in their season, and bamboo stalks catch clouds in their leaves. A murmuring waterfall conceals dense vines, and fresh moss carpets the slopes in verdant green. It is truly the pillar that props the sky where a hundred rivers meet, the unshifting foundation of the earth through ten thousand ages.

Upon the very summit of that peak rested an extraordinary magic stone. It stood three zhang, six chi, and five cun in height, and measured two zhang and four chi in girth. Its height of three zhang, six chi, and five cun corresponded to the three hundred sixty-five degrees of the celestial sphere; its girth of two zhang and four chi matched the twenty-four solar terms of the calendar. Upon its surface were nine apertures and eight cavities, aligned with the Nine Mansions and Eight Trigrams. No trees shaded it, though orchids and immortal fungi flanked it on either side.

Since the dawn of creation, this stone had been nourished continuously by the purity of Heaven and the virtue of Earth, by the essence of the sun and the radiance of the moon. Imbued across countless ages with such celestial virtue, it attained at last a wondrous spiritual nature. Within its womb an immortal embryo took shape, until one day it burst open, producing a stone egg as round as a sphere. Exposed to the wind, the egg transformed into a stone monkey, complete with all five senses and four sturdy limbs. He learned at once to crawl and walk, and bowing to each of the four quarters, offered homage to the world. From his eyes two beams of golden radiance shot straight toward the Pole Star Palace, illuminating the heavenly court of the Jade Emperor above.

The monkey dwelled among the mountain depths, learning to run and leap with agile grace. He fed on wild shoots and grasses, drank from sparkling springs, gathered hillside flowers, and picked forest fruit. He kept company with wolves and small creatures, lived alongside tigers and leopards, befriended roe deer and stags, and made kin with gibbons and baboons. By night he slept beneath stone overhangs; by morning he wandered mountain caves. Truly it was said of him: ‘In the mountains there is no calendar; when cold ends, none knows what year begins.’

One sweltering midday, after playing long in the pine shade to escape the heat, the troop of monkeys descended to bathe in a mountain torrent. Watching the clean, vigorous current cascade over rocks like rolling melons, they recalled the ancient saying: ‘Birds have their speech and beasts their language.’ The monkeys said to one another: ‘None knows whence this water flows. Having nothing to do today, let us trace the stream up the mountain to discover its source.’

Reaching the waterfall, the monkeys clapped their hands in delight and cried: ‘Splendid water! Magnificent cascade! It plunges from the summit down to the mountain’s foot and empties straight into the sea.’ Then they shouted: ‘If any among us is brave enough to leap through the falls, discover what lies beyond, and return unharmed, we shall hail him as our king!’ Three times they issued the challenge, yet none dared step forward. Suddenly the stone monkey sprang from the crowd and called out clearly: ‘I shall go! I shall go!’

Look at him: closing his eyes and crouching low, with a mighty leap he vaulted straight into the heart of the waterfall. Opening his eyes, he was astonished to find neither water nor waves inside, but a sturdy bridge resting in brilliant daylight. Pausing to compose himself, he looked carefully: it was an iron-plank bridge. Beneath it, water rushed through a fissure in the rock, spilling outside to form the tumbling curtain of the cataract.

Emerald moss shone with azure hues, white clouds floated like jade, and the light shimmered in wisps of purple mist. Beyond the bridge lay a tranquil, spacious cavern with latticed stone windows and smooth seats carved as if by divine hands. Stalactites like dragon pearls hung from the ceiling, and rare blossoms perfumed the stone floor. Near the wall lay the traces of an ancient hearth, while stone tables held cups, jugs, and platters of old. Stone beds invited repose, and stone basins and bowls adorned the chambers. It was a veritable heavenly mansion fashioned to shelter thousands!

Having explored the cavern, he leaped back across the bridge and looked toward the center of the hall. There stood a tall stone tablet carved with large regular characters: ‘Blessed Land of Flower Fruit Mountain, Cave Heaven of the Water Curtain.’

Overjoyed beyond measure, the stone monkey hurried outside, closed his eyes, crouched, and leaped back through the cascading water. Laughing aloud, he shouted: ‘A great fortune! A wondrous blessing!’ The monkeys crowded around him asking: ‘What is it like inside? How deep is the water?’ The stone monkey replied: ‘No water at all! Not a single drop! There is an iron bridge, and beyond it a heavenly mansion sheltered from wind and storm, furnished with stone beds, tables, and bowls, ample enough for thousands of us to dwell in peace.’

Hearing this marvel, the monkeys rejoiced and shouted: ‘Lead the way and take us inside!’ The stone monkey closed his eyes once more, crouched, and bounded through the curtain, calling: ‘Follow me, all of you! Enter!’ The boldest sprang in after him at once; the timid hesitated, stretched their necks, scratched their ears, and chattered, until one by one they took heart and dashed through the torrent. Once inside, wild with excitement, they scrambled for stone seats, snatched up bowls, and dashed from corner to corner with the restless nature of apes, not resting until they were thoroughly exhausted.

The stone monkey seated himself above them and addressed them gravely: ‘Brothers, did you not declare earlier that whoever ventured through the falls and returned unharmed should be crowned your king? Now that I have found you this paradise where we may dwell safe from wind and rain, why do you not bow before me and acknowledge me as sovereign?’ Hearing his words, the monkeys lined up respectfully, knelt, and bowed low, hailing him with one voice as the Handsome Monkey King. From that day forth, he assigned offices among gibbons and baboons, dwelling happily in the Water Curtain Cave without mingling with birds of the air or beasts of the plain.

Three or four centuries passed in unbroken joy and innocence. Yet one day, during a joyful banquet among his subjects, the Handsome Monkey King grew pensive, his face clouded with sorrow, and tears streamed down his cheeks. Alarmed, the monkeys gathered round and asked: ‘Great King, what grief troubles you amidst such abundance?’ The Monkey King sighed and replied: ‘Though our days are filled with gladness, a dark foreboding weighs upon my spirit. Today we fear neither human laws nor wild beasts, yet as decades pass old age will seize us unawares, and the King of the Underworld will claim our lives. When death arrives, what will our kingship have availed us?’

Hearing his lament, the monkeys bowed their heads and wept. Suddenly an elderly gibbon with long arms strode forward from the ranks and cried in a ringing voice: ‘If such is your concern, Great King, it proves that your heart has awakened to the Great Way! In all the cosmos, among all living beings, only three kinds are free from the grasp of death and the jurisdiction of King Yama.’ The Monkey King asked eagerly: ‘Who are these three?’ The gibbon answered: ‘The Buddhas, the Immortals, and the Sages. They have transcended the cycle of rebirth, endure as long as Heaven and Earth, and dwell forever beyond death.’ The Monkey King bounded with joy and shouted: ‘Tomorrow I shall take my leave of you and roam the ends of the earth until I find these masters and learn the secret of immortality!’

The monkeys applauded his noble resolve. They prepared at once a lavish farewell feast: gathering fragrant hillside blossoms, plucking sweet peaches and mountain berries, and serving jars of fermented fruit wine. They ranked themselves by age and took turns offering cups to the Handsome Monkey King, drinking and singing together until the moon sank below the horizon.

At dawn the Monkey King rose early and commanded: ‘Brethren, gather dry pines and help me weave a sturdy raft; find a stout bamboo pole for a punt, and pack dried fruits and fresh water.’ When all was ready, the Monkey King boarded the raft alone, poled with all his might, and cast off from shore. The raft drifted gently upon the swell and slipped into the open sea, borne by celestial winds toward the unknown shores of the great ocean.