Now the soul of Boqin's father, delivered by the merit of the service from its sunk estate, came betimes as a ghost to his own house, and appeared in a dream to the whole household, old and young, saying: “In the shadow-world my sufferings were hard to escape, and for long I could not win rebirth. Now, by the good fortune of the holy monk's reciting the scriptures, my burden of sin has been dissolved, and King Yama has sent men to escort me up to the rich land of the Middle Flower, there to be reborn into the house of a man of substance. See that you thank and speed the elder well, and be in no way remiss, be in no way remiss. I am going now.” And this was the very thing:

陰司 (yīn sī), the “shadow-world,” is the underworld ruled by 閻王 (Yán wáng), King Yama; 超生 is rebirth into a better station. 中華 (Zhōng-huá), the “Middle Flower,” is China itself — to be reborn there, into a wealthy house, is a signal reward. In 苦難 the graph 難 carries the sense of ordeal (nàn), as against 難脫 (nán, “hard to escape”) in the same breath.

The myriad dharmas in their solemn splendour have their purpose indeed: they deliver the dead from their woe and lift them out of the depths.

A storyteller's summary couplet, affirming the real efficacy of the rites just performed — the “myriad dharmas” (the whole body of Buddhist law and practice) are shown to work.

When that whole household woke from the dream, the sun was already up in the east. Boqin's wife said: “Husband, tonight I dreamed our father came home, and said that in the shadow-world his sufferings were hard to escape, and that for long he could not win rebirth; but now, by the good fortune of the holy monk's reciting the scriptures, his burden of sin has been dissolved, and King Yama has sent men to escort him up to the rich land of the Middle Flower, to be reborn into the house of a man of substance. He bade us thank the elder well and not be remiss with him. When he had spoken, he went straight out of the door and wandered off; we called him but he would not answer, and could not keep him. Then I woke, and it was a dream.” Boqin said: “I too had just such a dream, the same as yours. Let us get up and go tell my mother.”

The wife's dream repeats the father's message almost word for word, and Boqin's matches it — the technique of near-verbatim repetition, common in the vernacular novel, drives home that this is no ordinary dream but a true visitation, witnessed independently by each sleeper.

The two of them were just about to go and tell her when the old mother called out: “Boqin, my child, come here; I have something to say to you.” When the two came before her, the old mother, seated on her bed, said: “Son, tonight I had a happy dream: I dreamed your father came home, and said that thanks to the elder's deliverance his burden of sin was already dissolved, and that he was going up to the rich land of the Middle Flower, to be reborn into a house of substance.” Husband and wife both laughed aloud and said: “We two, and your daughter-in-law, all had this dream, and were just coming to report it; who would have thought that mother should call us, and it is the same dream.” So they called the whole household, high and low, to rise and make ready their thanks, and to see to the pilgrim's horse; and all came before him and bowed their thanks, saying: “Our deep thanks to the elder for delivering our dead father out of his ordeal and into rebirth — more than we can ever repay.” Sanzang said: “What power has this poor monk, that he should merit such thanks?”

In 兒啊 (“son!”) the graph 兒 stands alone as the full noun “son” (ér), distinct from the diminutive 孩兒 (er) in the mother's next breath. The three matching dreams — wife, husband, and mother — confirm the visitation beyond doubt and set the seal on the memorial's success.