Chapter Text
Come morning, Sun Wukong conjured an avatar to keep watch and slipped quietly from the room, and went to the women as they rose. Zheng Yi listened carefully to his request, her work-worn face set warmly in understanding, and when at last she gave approval he bowed low to her and then her sisters, then went to the stables where Sha Wujing had risen and was waking Zhu Bajie.
“There you are, dashixiong,” grumbled Zhu Bajie. Too occupied was he with shaking the straw from his undershirt to catch the peculiarities of Sun Wukong’s arrival. “Up early as always.”
Sha Wujing was not so unknowing; he gazed oddly at Sun Wukong and spoke the question with his eyes, and Sun Wukong returned silently that he had no answer and anyway was in no mood for such inquiries. The three of them collected their belongings and together they approached the house, where Zheng Ning stood waiting, her arms folded and her plucky girlish face pinched with purpose. “You, monkey,” she said to Sun Wukong. “My sisters are readying breakfast. Come lend your paws as you said you would.”
“What’s this?” said Zhu Bajie. “Dashixiong, what did you promise them?”
“Your dashixiong gave his word that he would help with mealtimes,” said Zheng Ning, “provide we allow your shifu another night of respite in our house.”
“So I see,” said Sha Wujing, somewhat unwittingly. Again he turned his keen eyes toward Sun Wukong.
Sun Wukong said, “The rest of you should do as you like, or join me in labor should you feel compelled. Who knows—perhaps Shifu will take pity on me and command you both to my aid.”
“Be careful he hasn't tricked you,” said Zhu Bajie to Zheng Ning. “Such altruism is most unlike him.”
“I do not think it is altruism,” muttered Sha Wujing doubtfully, but perhaps out of some manner of courtesy toward Sun Wukong he said nothing more of the matter, and after some silence he gathered Bailongma's reins in one hand and announced that he would go to the river while the sun still shone torrid and bright, and by noon would return with a catch to show for his efforts.
All through the morning Tang Sanzang appeared none the wiser to Sun Wukong's machinations. At breakfast the two elder sisters worried politely over his thin arms and gently turned down his attempts at excusing himself as had been secretly agreed upon that morning, and Zhu Bajie ate vigorously and with razored focus, as though out of fear that his mouth might betray him if left empty. Zheng Ning alone looked unimpressed, and frequently would glance sidelong toward Sun Wukong in annoyance. Twice Sun Wukong used his Huoyan Jinjing to gaze through her; twice he was displeased with what he saw. She was human only, and quite plainly so, and all her shrewdness was her own.
The day grew still hotter nigh noon, and there was yet more to be done in the ruthless heat. Sha Wujing had not returned from his trip. Zheng Cui went out to the stables to tend to their horses, while Zheng Ning, who possessed a skill in herbal medicines, watched the house and Tang Sanzang. Zheng Yi took nets to go down to the riverbank, and Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie went with her, though Zhu Bajie had to be dragged by the ear partway and complained of sunburns and sore arms all the while until they came to the brown sloping rocks of the gorge, and Sha Wujing sitting defeatedly upon them with spade in hand.
A wound curved brightly fresh over his head; Sun Wukong took one look at it and laughed. “Sha-xiong, oh, Sha-xiong! How I would have liked to see you anger the water yao!”
“I’d like to see dashixiong try his hand,” said Sha Wujing sulkily. At his side stood Bailongma, who had turned its head aside to look longingly toward the foaming current, and as such paid them no mind.
Drawing his staff, Sun Wukong stooped over the water-lapped stones and called upon the yao of the river, and gave a delighted shout when instead a long-robed deity rose beautifully from the water to appraise him, their face as colorless as foam and lovelier than even Guanyin’s. He summoned a cloud and flew out to meet them at once, and a look of such shock came over Sha Wujing’s face it crowded out what room was left for indignance, and for some time he and Zhu Bajie could only sit with rising incredulity as Sun Wukong spoke happily with the river deity, whose slumber it was said had been roused by Sha Wujing’s tussle with a few small water yao and so had lashed him upon the head and flung him from their waters.
Cheerfully Sun Wukong said on their return, “You should not underestimate the relations between a small deity and their inhabitants, Sha-xiong.”
“Was I to know they would repel me for the whinings of a couple little yao?” said Sha Wujing. He was lugging the heavy net of fish over his shoulder and wore his dolefulness clearly. Beside him, Zhu Bajie’s pace was erratic, busy coaxing Bailongma back up the slope for its reluctance to leave the shore.
“They thought you were attacking,” laughed Sun Wukong. “And the yao thought you a thief. Truly it depended on my virtuousness after all to secure us so plentiful a catch.”
“You caught nothing; they nigh passed it right into your paws!” said Zhu Bajie.
“Well,” said Zheng Yi, “let us rejoice that we will eat well tonight, and by my insistence Sun-daren should take half the supply in thanks for his winning the favor of the river deity.”
Noontime was thus a lively event. Zhu Bajie built and stoked a fire over which he smoked the fish, which were scaled and gutted by Sun Wukong’s skillful hands and cleaned before by Sha Wujing in a basin of water brought over by Zheng Cui, who overlooked them with a critical eye. Tang Sanzang was yet having tea in a room aside, where Zheng Ning tended to his lethargy. Zheng Yi had gone out again to hunt, and had refused help; she knew the woods blind and could stalk through the groves without sound, and Sun Wukong needed not assist her in catching but a rabbit to braise.
As the day went on they ate and fussed and sat dutifully when Tang Sanzang beckoned them for his readings, and only when the beginnings of dusk spread low and cool over the land did Zheng Yi return. She hung up two rabbits, a lucky day, away in the kitchen where the sight of them would not disturb Tang Sanzang’s heart. By then Zheng Cui had by Sun Wukong’s insistence carried out a bowl for Tang Sanzang: bean sprouts and tofu, and new-picked leaves of mint to fend off heat stroke and other such dangers. This was accepted by Tang Sanzang with the customary grace of monks. At noon he had slid only one faint look of disapproval toward Sun Wukong—who had pretended not to notice—at the sight of the dark fish meat Zhu Bajie had been eyeing with interest.
Dinner was a quieter affair, all of them heavy-limbed and worn by the work of the day so that there were long bouts of silence as they ate, interrupted only by brief exchanges over the table and the mutterings of Tang Sanzang’s disciples to each other. It was only after, when Sun Wukong crept upstairs to join Tang Sanzang in meditation in his room, that his shifu spoke his displeasure at last with his eyes still closed.
“I should scold you, Wukong, for your trickery.”
“Not the headache sutra, Shifu, I beg of you,” said Sun Wukong quickly. He had already settled on the cool stone floor and now touched the gold band across his brow, and watched Tang Sanzang carefully should he begin to recite the cursed spell.
“I will not,” Tang Sanzang sighed, and opened his eyes. “But Zheng-guniang and her sisters have shown us great charity; I should like to know the manner in which you convinced them.”
“Oh,“ said Sun Wukong, straightening. “That I can happily explain to Shifu. It took only a bit of my handsome gentleman’s charm, of course, and a simple agreement to an exchange. Don’t worry, there was no trading of violence, nor favors of the unspeakable sort.”
At that Tang Sanzang went pink, and sternly he said, “Wukong, it's not right for you to flirt.”
“Flirt!” said Sun Wukong. “Do you take me for Zhu Bajie? If I flirted with them, Shifu, I should go bury myself beneath a mountain for another five hundred years.”
“A gladsome sight that would be,” said Zheng Ning, who had come up to the door with a bowl of peeled lotus seeds and stood now under the frame with a look of great amusement.
Tang Sanzang seemed embarrassed; he rose at once and received the bowl with both hands. “Thank you, guniang,” he said.
“You are most welcome. I suppose unruly disciples can’t be helped, can they,” she said, then gave a sniff and swept away, seeming quite pleased with herself for breaking into their squabble.
Sun Wukong looked after her sullenly. “I would not be so distracted as to flirt,” he said. “I only used my good words and struck a bargain, and one quite sensible at that!”
“What sort of bargain?” asked Tang Sanzang, and when Zheng Ning’s footsteps had faded he lowered himself to the floor once more and peered curiously at Sun Wukong.
“Why, one for Shifu’s health, of course,” said Sun Wukong. He felt rather nervous suddenly, and wiped his palms on his soft loincloth. “It was agreed I would give the women my labor in exchange for another night that you rest in their home. Long have I given up those mortal appetites of which Shifu accuses me; I have only one purpose on this journey and it is to accompany Shifu as we go westward, and protect you from what evils crawl the land. Look here,” he said abruptly, and procured from a fold of his robe a gourd, and handed it to Tang Sanzang.
“What is this?” said Tang Sanzang. He turned it in his hand, the skin of the vessel pale and gleaming with the colors of pearls, as though crafted from moonlight made liquid, then cast and hardened into the shape of a gourd.
“A great gift from the deity we encountered today at the river,” said Sun Wukong proudly. “I told them of your journey, and they gave me this to give you. The inside is boundless, made never to run empty, and the waters that flow forth from its mouth come of only the sweetest springs in the world. Our days ahead are long and hot, and this should be of good use to Shifu as we travel into those uneasy conditions.”
Tang Sanzang seemed altogether rather stunned, and for a long moment looked at the silvery gourd without speaking, as though it mystified and astonished him like no other blessed object that had passed through his hands. Then softly he set it down, and touched his fingers to Sun Wukong’s head, and trembling silently he stroked the long locks of fur that shone fiery in the slow dipping sun.
“Blessed is this humble monk,” he whispered. “This master thanks his disciple profoundly for his gift.” And he spoke low and warm, and in his gaze there hid something fragile like a small young bird, crouched teetering over its nest.
Sun Wukong was taken aback and said only, “Ah.”
He reached up a hand and took Tang Sanzang’s in his own. At this Tang Sanzang promptly blushed, his gaze turning downward, though he did not draw away his hand. Quietly he said, “A most admirable trait, your fealty. Do not think I am blind to it in my scoldings, Wukong. But in this regard, I fear I have failed as your shifu, for I am more selfish than I pretend and have kept it unfairly secret from you and your shidi.”
Such an admittance bemused Sun Wukong, and he righted himself. “Whatever could Shifu mean?” he asked.
Tang Sanzang blushed deeper without reason, and gently he took his hand from Sun Wukong’s and set it again in his lap. He said, “I am thinking of how best to confess this. Certainly it pains me to think that such muted desires in me could be in danger of festering into deeds as improper as Bajie’s past whims.”
Immediately Sun Wukong jumped to his feet, appalled. “That is madness you speak!” he cried. “Shifu should not compare himself to the unsightly histories of creatures such as Zhu-xiong! Let me see those lotus seeds; perhaps the girl has poisoned them in some wretched hope to corrupt you.”
“Wukong!” said Tang Sanzang, and startled he took the bowl into his hands as Sun Wukong snatched for it. “I forbid you to speak so terribly of our hosts. It is not the lotus seeds, but my own musings which have plagued me for many days and nights with neither curses nor yao present. Now sit down at once, silly monkey, and let your shifu say what he must.
“I have been most dishonest,” he said. “What you lack in mortal appetite I fear I have found in myself, and quite sordidly so, on our sacred journey.”
Sun Wukong did as he was told and sat cross-legged and facing Tang Sanzang fully. He looked upon his shifu’s lovely face, lovelier and kinder than the river deity, than Guanyin, and for reasons unknown to him he began to feel again an itch in his chest, a scratching discomfort not unlike the belly-rumbling of hunger or the yawning of sleep.
“What sort of appetite?” he asked.
Tang Sanzang closed his eyes. “A desire,” he said, “low and burning, and terrible. It entraps me in the night and at times in daylight, and try as I might to escape its reach I know it comes from inside of me, and can only be purified from within. Wukong, there is something I must tell you now, and you may shun me as you see fit, and go to Guanyin and tell them of my violation if they do not permit you leave.”
“Do not say such things,” hissed Sun Wukong. Fury crept on him swiftly as a trail of flame. “This disciple shall not be abandoned by Shifu, and neither should Shifu dare try elsewise. So it is desire you feel! And what of it?”
He rose then and came to kneel closer, and touched carefully Tang Sanzang’s shoulder which was lightly shaking. More softly he said, “I will go with you still, and do all else that you ask of me. What difference is it to me what Shifu feels and does not feel?”
“Oh,” said Tang Sanzang, with a strange high tightness. He looked up at Sun Wukong, and unexpectedly he tipped forth as though pushed and set clumsily his palm to Sun Wukong’s face, and kissed him.
“Oh,” said Sun Wukong as well. “So that is what you meant to tell me!”
Understanding took him with great joy. Emboldened and pleased he took his shifu’s face in both hands, and held him still and kissed and kissed him, and only laughed then when Tang Sanzang’s cheeks grew warm and burning beneath his fingers, laughed and laughed merrily and stopped to draw breath, then kissed him again and some more.
”We cannot,” gasped Tang Sanzang. Stutteringly he freed himself from Sun Wukong’s embrace, and Sun Wukong saw then that his shifu was wholly red, but hoarse and shining with relief. “I am gravely forbidden such indulgences! We shall face punishment, then, for—”
”But I am not,” said Sun Wukong, “so let it be this disobedient disciple who alone should be punished for sullying the virtue of his shifu.” And saying so, he darted forth and caught Tang Sanzang in his arms once more, and with clever mouth and hands put good silence to his protests.
Zheng Ning was first to come upon them in the morning; Sun Wukong had risen before daybreak and thus ran into her on his way down the stairs, and for some time they only stared furiously in accusation of one another, and then in a hissing hush Zheng Ning said, “Foolish monkey! He will not rise for another shichen when you have exhausted him so!”
“I did nothing of the sort!” said Sun Wukong.
”A terrible disciple you are,” she said, “and perhaps he an equally terrible master, if you are to his taste. I meant to change out the incense in his censer, but it seems now that he should not need it.”
Sun Wukong thought to curse her as she turned heel and descended the steps, but found most oddly that he could not. Harsh and juvenile she was, but she had rid Tang Sanzang of his heat fatigue. For that he could not complain. And selfishly, he made note that she looked upon Tang Sanzang with the cool disinterest of doctors, and seemed largely concerned with only the will of her smiling sisters.
Grudgingly he followed her down and said, "I am grateful for the kindness you and your sisters have shown us, guniang.”
“As was our duty as hosts. May you have safe passage through the gorge, and on your journey beyond,” she said, and regarded him another moment with piercing contemplation. “Good health upon your shifu; he is a noble and studied man.”
“Yes,” said Sun Wukong, “I indeed say he is.”
He went afterward to the stables, where Zhu Bajie and Bailongma yet slept. Sha Wujing had woken and was standing with arms crossed by the doors, the wound on his head now but a pink healing slash after Zheng Ning’s examination. He looked into Sun Wukong’s face and scoffed. “An unfair privilege you have attained, dashixiong, to sleep so comfortably,” he said.
“It was not my will,” said Sun Wukong. “Shifu fears the night for good reason, for all we have encountered thus far in such valleys. I only keep watch so that he might be better rested in the morning.”
“That’s not what I mean,” said Sha Wujing, and nothing more. He fell silent for some time, and together they stood watching the peach colors of dawn graze over the craggled sides of the gorge. This morning the sky was cloudless, the air clear and carrying the sweet earth-scent of rain, which had fallen heavy through the night and chased the heat from the valley.
At last Sha Wujing said, “If it is Shifu’s will, then I shall have no protest.”
“Good,” said Sun Wukong. “For even if you three had intent to leave him for it, I would chase you across mountain and sea and into the Heavens so that you may thereupon meet your judgment under Guanyin’s gaze.”
“And I say you will have no need of such measures,” said Sha Wujing gruffly. Beneath his black beard his mouth did not move, but in his eyes there held a lightness which regarded Sun Wukong in good humor. “Shifu will awake soon. Go to him if you like, and leave er-shixiong and the horse to me.”
“A sensible shidi you are!” said Sun Wukong. “Very well, I shall do as I please.”
He had already rounded halfway back to the house when Sha Wujing called after him.
“If Guanyin would not permit it,” he said, “nor Buddha himself, what then is dashixiong’s plan?”
Sun Wukong turned and smiled, a brightness that flared over his face and was then gone like a flash of sun. “This monkey is the Great Sage Equaling Heaven, the immortal lord of Huaguo Mountain and Shuilian Cave. Just who do you take me for?” he said, and called on a cloud to fly him up to the open window, Tang Sanzang awake and renewed at last by rest, waiting in the room beyond.