From afar, the woman's features had been indistinct; up close, they became perfectly clear.
She had been born with a lovely shell:
Willow brows gathered emerald hues; almond eyes flashed silver stars.
Her moonlike face was lovely, her natural bearing pure.
Though this was a wild mountain wilderness, she seemed a delicate blossom raised in a secluded boudoir, radiating an innocent purity untouched by the world.
Bajie approached with his belly thrust out and a simple grin on his face. His little eyes roved over the woman, as though her beauty had bewitched him, yet his steps remained perfectly steady.
"Lady Bodhisattva! Lady Bodhisattva!"
Bajie asked cheerfully:
"Where are you headed out here in these wild mountains? And what lovely things are you carrying? They smell mighty good."
Seeing the pig-headed monk strike up a conversation, the woman secretly rejoiced, though she put on a flattered expression and answered eagerly:
"Blessings upon you, elder."
"I live at the northern foot of this mountain. This blue jar holds fragrant rice I cooked myself, and the green bottle holds stir-fried wheat gluten. I came for no other reason than that my parents read the scriptures and delight in doing good, and once vowed to provide meals for monks. Seeing you elders come from afar today, I brought these especially to forge a bond of goodwill."
Bajie was delighted. Slapping his thigh, he said:
"Really? Oh my, a living Bodhisattva! Quick, let Old Pig have a look!"
Without standing on ceremony, he reached out to help the woman up, taking the blue earthenware jar and green porcelain bottle from her as he did.
The movement seemed clumsy, yet it neatly blocked her escape.
Bajie cradled the jar against his chest, but rather than opening it, he asked another question:
"Lady Bodhisattva, where is