Journey to the West: The Girl at the Foot of the Mountain Is Waiting for Him to Return
I looked up and saw the Buddha, radiant with golden light. I suddenly wanted to ask him: Buddha, you sever the three thousand threads of worldly attachment. Why do you not sever attachment itself?
One
Thinking back, the Monkey agreed to come journey west with me because he heard I possessed the ultimate spell. It's called the Tightening Crown Spell—once cast, the afflicted suffers splitting headaches and uncontrollable urination.
The Monkey hollered: Excellent! I just love support-class casters like you.
I felt rather bad about not telling him I was actually a healer...
Two
I was determined to journey west. Back then I was just a young monk who couldn't see flowers and grass—only the world's suffering.
I heard the scriptures in the Western Heaven held the answers. I wanted to bring them back.
The Abbot said: Go. Remember to get along with your friends.
I shook my head. Abbot, I want to go alone.
The Abbot said: Friends are your lamp. Go west—you'll understand someday.
Three
Later, I actually left the mountain and found a monkey who could really fight, a pig who could really eat, a horse who could really run, and someone whose name I could never remember. We formed the greatest boy band of the Tang Dynasty: the Westward Five.
Traveling with these menaces to public safety was not my intention. But the road was perilous, and without them I probably wouldn't have survived past the third episode.
Sometimes I'd watch them trotting ahead, and a realization would slowly dawn on me:
Traveling alone is travel. Traveling with four people—that's begging door to door for vegetarian meals.
Four
Before I left, the Abbot said I couldn't let go.
Let go?
The monastery food was pretty good—I was indeed reluctant to let it go. The monastery kittens were cute, even though they kept peeing on my bed—I was reluctant to let them go too.
And the pretty girl at the foot of the mountain. That was hard to let go of.
Five
The day I met the girl, I was at the foot of the mountain, holding a stick, poking at a pile of manure.
She walked past me, then doubled back. Monk, why are you playing with poop?
I said: Benefactor. I'm communicating with its owner, asking if plowing the fields has been tiring lately.
She said: Hahaha you weirdo, why don't you have a conversation with your anus instead?
Six
Later, the girl and I grew close. She'd often come up the mountain to gather herbs. She didn't believe in Buddhism, but she loved hearing me tell the stories from the sutras.
I told her about the Buddha attaining enlightenment under a bodhi tree... wait, I mean attaining Buddhahood.
I told her about a green lamp that studied under the Buddha. It listened to three thousand years of Zen and finally gained awareness. The Buddha asked it what it wanted to do.
Its very first act was to set itself alight, illuminating all living beings. That's remarkable—like a dog that can't stop eating poop, like how we spend our entire lives busy just so we can die, but if along the way we can illuminate anyone, we've already won.
Seven
"Monk, monk. When you tell stories, I feel all warm inside, like you've illuminated me." That was how she described it.
I touched my bald head and said: That's because I reflect light.
Oh...
What's wrong? You seem disappointed.
Monk, you're always so silly.
Eight
I'm leaving. Want me to bring you back any souvenirs?
So your heart's already elsewhere. The girl bit down on a reed, leaning on the windowsill, watching me quietly. I stood beneath her window, sheepishly rubbing my bald head.
I ran ahead, turned back, and shouted: When I come back, I'll tell you every story from the sutras!
Nine
Wukong, stop monkeying around. One day on the journey west, I said: Pigsy, and you—surely you can't be as stupid as a pig.
Those two animals erupted in fury, jabbing fingers at me: You stop calling monks bald donkeys!
And so all three of us fell into despair.
It was our fifth year on the road. I suddenly missed the girl who called me monk.
I had traveled tens of thousands of miles from the past. And her—whose husband had she become by now?
Ten
One day, I came to the foot of a mountain. Strangely, all the monsters were lying on the ground, bellies exposed, snoring away.
Seems monster management was pretty terrible too. So unprofessional.
I turned around—the entire Westward Five, except the Monkey, had collapsed and were snoring.
A woman emerged from a cave.
Eleven
She said: Hahaha, you've all fallen under my sleep spell!
Then she yawned.
So it was an indiscriminate area-of-effect attack too.
Twelve
The woman said: Wait, how are you two fine?
I pressed my palms together: Benefactor, I suffer from insomnia.
The Monkey pressed his palms together: Benefactor, I suffer from depression.
The woman pressed her palms together: Screw you both, I'm out.
Thirteen
The woman was struck down by Wukong's staff.
She screamed: Monkey King, you promised to marry me!
Sun Wukong stood frozen, as though a memory had surfaced. He lowered his staff and said: Is it you, Little Fox?
Fourteen
Sun Wukong's first love was five hundred years ago.
Back then, he was king of the mountain, and she was the little fox at the foot of the mountain. They'd often chat on the grassy slopes below. The only problem was that chatting with the little fox was incredibly difficult—no one knew what kind of cultivation she'd practiced, but within three minutes, they'd both be flat on their backs, fast asleep.
Sun Wukong had promised to marry her. He said once he conquered the Heavenly Court, he'd return on a fine horse to claim her hand.
Five hundred years passed, and she'd been waiting for that promise to be fulfilled.
She looked at me, then at the White Dragon Horse, and said, deeply moved: You finally came back on a fine horse to marry me. So—the monk is the dowry?
Fifteen
"Monk, I don't want to go anymore. I've walked so far. I'm tired. I want to settle down." The Monkey said.
I patted the Monkey's head and said: Let your master finish your wedding wine first.
What about you, Monk?
I'll keep going west. I'll finish our journey.
And us? Pigsy and Sandy looked at me with hopeful eyes.
After the wedding wine, let's all go our separate ways. I waved dismissively.
Sixteen
We drank a lot of wine.
The Monkey hugged Pigsy and said: Pig, I'm going to miss you.
Pigsy said: Missing me is fine, but what's with the nibbling?
I went outside to pee, shook it off, and casually wiped my hands on the clothes of someone standing nearby.
I said: Buddy, you came out to pee too?
A blinding flash of light nearly seared my retinas. I squinted and vaguely saw that it was Guanyin.
Seventeen
Standing beside Guanyin was the Little Fox.
Guanyin said: They shouldn't stop here. I will take you away. You can reunite with them in the Western Heaven.
The Little Fox smiled bitterly: I always knew that was a place where love could not exist. Bodhisattva, what if I refuse?
Guanyin said: I won't harm you, but I will erase Wukong's memories of you.
Eighteen
When the Monkey rushed out, the Little Fox had already taken her own life.
Guanyin lay to one side, fast asleep.
Wukong held the Little Fox in his arms, trembling. Why?
The Little Fox was still wearing her bright red wedding dress. She weakly touched his face and said: Monkey, don't forget me.
Nineteen
When we set out on the journey west once more, the Monkey asked me that question: Monk, is someone waiting for you at home too?
I thought about it, looked straight ahead, and said: Yes.
Then why do you go west?
I said nothing, gazing silently ahead.
Don't worry, Monkey. Before I achieve my dream, I'll make sure you and she are reunited.
Twenty
In the River of Passage lived Old Wang. At least, that's what we affectionately called him—until we first used that name, and he erupted in fury, protesting: My name is Old Wang!
The Westward Five lay on his back, wobbling across the river.
Everyone was in good spirits. Cross this river, fetch the scriptures, and they could finally go home.
Several corpses suddenly floated down from upstream. They all bore our faces.
Old Wang said: Congratulations. This life is complete. You may attain Buddhahood.
A bad feeling came over me.
Twenty-One
All the Buddhas of heaven came to welcome us.
"Comrade, you've worked hard." The Subduing Dragon Arhat gripped my hand firmly.
I quickly said: Not hard at all. Happy to serve the Buddha.
The Monkey was bouncing around, shouting: Little Fox, Little Fox, where are you? I've come to see you!
"Victorious Fighting Buddha, you have attained Buddhahood. The mortal realm is severed." The Arhats said cheerfully. "Why do you still cling to earthly love?"
Sun Wukong stood frozen. He dropped to his knees and said: Give me back my Little Fox.
The Arhats simply clapped and laughed.
I looked up and saw the Buddha, radiant with golden light.
That day, I suddenly wanted to ask him: Buddha, you sever the three thousand threads of worldly attachment.
Why.
Do you not sever attachment itself?
Twenty-Two
Being a Buddha is a very leisurely profession. We float around in the heavens all day. If you like, you can float for a few thousand years and become a glowing animated screensaver.
The Monkey became the Victorious Fighting Buddha, but he no longer fights. Every day he asks: Where is my Little Fox?
The Arhats just clap and laugh, reminding him: Victorious Fighting Buddha, you have attained Buddhahood. The mortal realm is severed.
Finally, the Victorious Fighting Buddha stopped asking. He sat there blankly, staring at his similarly vacant fellow disciples.