Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
Dreams of the West: Supplement
墨書 Inktalez
The Wandere finally obtained the Banana Leaf Fan after three attempts. At the foot of Flame Mountain, The Wandere stood firmly, holding the fan with both hands, exerting all his strength to fan the mountain top forty-nine times. In an instant, thunder rumbled and heavy rain poured down on the mountain. This Banana Leaf Fan was indeed magical: it rained where there was fire and cleared up where there was none. The four of them stood in the rain-free area, untouched by the downpour. After resting for a night, they packed their horses and luggage the next morning. The Wandere returned the fan to the Raksasa Woman, saying, "If I do not return this fan to you, someone might say I am untrustworthy. Take it back to your forest and do not cause any more trouble. It is truly not easy for you to have attained a human form; I shall let you go!" The Raksasa Woman accepted the fan, chanted a spell, and transformed it into a leaf-sized object that she held in her mouth. She thanked everyone and flew away. It is said that later, this Raksasa Woman concealed her identity and cultivated herself, eventually achieving enlightenment and gaining eternal fame; we shall not elaborate on this. The land also expressed gratitude before disappearing.
The Wandere, Ba Jie, and Sha Seng escorted Tang Seng westward, feeling refreshed and invigorated.
After leaving Flame Mountain, the four of them journeyed westward without realizing that it was already the season of blooming grass and singing orioles. Tang Seng rode on his horse, feeling the spring breeze on his face but suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of melancholy.
"Wu Kong," he sighed deeply, "we four have traveled through wind and rain, crossing mountains and rivers; who knows when we will obtain the true scriptures and meet Tathagata Buddha?"
"Master, here you go again," Wu Kong scratched his head in annoyance. "I've told you many times that seeking scriptures is nonsense! That old Tathagata is just playing with us! If you really want to see him sooner, I can use a Cloud Somersault right now to bring him down from his lotus throne!"
"You mischievous monkey! How dare you speak like that!" Tang Seng scolded. "Our Buddha Tathagata is compassionate and possesses boundless powers; how can you be so disrespectful?"
"Come on, Master," Wu Kong dismounted and sat on a stone by the roadside. "Can't you see? The Heavenly Court, the Western Paradise—what's the difference from the mortal world? It's all about power struggles and deceit! Look at you; you've been banished to the mortal realm and faced hardships because you violated Heavenly Law! But who set those so-called Heavenly Laws? It's those high-and-mighty gods!"
Tang Seng was left speechless by Wu Kong's words and could only shake his head helplessly as they continued their journey.
The two of them walked in silence for a long time until suddenly they came upon a beautiful scene: winding mountain paths adorned with fallen blossoms, new buds mingling with old petals covering the ground like brocade. Amidst the bamboo branches, a peony quietly bloomed, its vibrant colors almost dripping with beauty.
"Master, look over there! What is that?" Ba Jie exclaimed, pointing at the peony with his mouth agape.
"It's just a flower," Tang Seng replied nonchalantly.
"What a beautiful flower," Sha Seng couldn't help but exclaim, "truly deserving of the title 'King of Flowers!'"
"The King of Flowers? Hmph, just a hollow title," Wu Kong scoffed. "No matter how beautiful a flower is, it will eventually wither. Everything in this world is like that—birth, aging, illness, and death; who can escape it?"
Hearing this, Tang Seng felt a stir in his heart and asked, "Wu Kong, what do you mean by that?"
Wu Kong did not answer; he merely looked up at the sky, a hint of melancholy flashing in his eyes.
"Master, I once thought that as long as I possessed great power, I could change everything and obtain all that I desired," he said slowly. "But now I realize that there are some things that even with world-destroying power, one cannot attain."
"What things?" Tang Seng inquired.
"Freedom," Wu Kong said word by word. "To do as one wishes."
Tang Seng looked at Wu Kong, feeling a mix of emotions. He knew Wu Kong was right. The four of them journeying westward seemed free and unrestrained, yet they were all tightly bound by the shackles of fate. They were like petals dancing in the wind—seemingly beautiful and free, yet ultimately unable to escape the fate of withering.
Tang Seng saw it, and Wu Kong certainly saw it too. The peony bloomed by the roadside, swaying in the breeze, basking in the sunlight, blooming in his heart. Red—it was a striking red, a red that reminded him of the blazing flames of Fire Mountain, a red that recalled the fierce flames of the Eight Trigrams Furnace.
"Master, look at that peony; it's blooming so vibrantly!" He scratched his head and pointed at the flower but dared not look directly at its color.
"Not red, not red," Tang Seng's voice was calm and steady, like a bucket of cold water poured over Wu Kong's heart.
Not red? How could it not be red? Was this old monk's vision clouded? Or did he simply refuse to acknowledge such vibrant colors existed in the world? "Master, could it be that the warm spring sun has dazzled your eyes?" He forced a smile while feeling a tumult of emotions inside. "This Peony Red is so intense; how can you say it's not red! Why don't we dismount and rest for a moment? Let me fetch Great Medicine Emperor Bodhisattva to take a look at your eyes. It would be terrible if you were to go astray because of an eye ailment!"
"You mischievous monkey! What nonsense are you spouting!" Tang Seng's expression finally changed; his usually kind eyes now burned with fire. "It's clearly you who are seeing things incorrectly but are blaming your master instead!"
"Master, if your eyes are fine, then why do you say that peony isn't red?" He lowered his head, his voice tinged with grievance and defiance, along with a tinge of sorrow he couldn't quite understand.
"I never said that peony isn't red; I merely said that's not the color of a peony," Tang Seng's voice returned to calmness as another bucket of cold water was poured over Wu Kong.
Not the color of a peony? What color is that then? Is it his heart? Wu Kong hastily changed the subject: "Master, if that's not the color of a peony, perhaps it's just sunlight reflecting off the petals making them appear so red?"
"You foolish monkey! You stir up your own desires yet keep changing the topic from peonies to sunlight; you're truly looking for trouble!" Tang Seng's tone carried a hint of exasperation mixed with helplessness.
“Master, you must be joking! I, Lao Sun, am covered in yellow fur, wearing a tiger skin skirt and this patchy blue and white robe. Where do you see me blushing?” He lifted his head, trying hard to maintain a playful grin, but inside, it felt like he was being pricked by needles, a dull ache gnawing at him.
“I’m not talking about your appearance; I’m saying your heart is blushing,” Tang Seng's voice was deep and slow, as if he were speaking to him or perhaps to himself.
Then, he heard Tang Seng recite a verse, the words echoing as if from a distant horizon or rising from the depths of his own heart:
The color of peonies is empty; only the disciple's heart is red.
In the blooming and withering of flowers, there is no difference at all.
As the sun set in the west, the evening glow blazed like fire, painting half the sky red. The four of them walked along a secluded path, surrounded by silence, only the sound of hoofbeats and occasional bird calls breaking the stillness.
After a while, they came upon a dense thicket of peonies by the roadside. The flowers were in full bloom—red as fire, pink like clouds at dawn, white as snow—vividly colorful and fragrant. Tang Seng reined in his horse and gazed at this sea of flowers, a complex expression flickering in his eyes.
Seeing this, Wu Kong muttered to himself, “What’s wrong with Master? He’s never shown much interest in flowers before; why is he so captivated today?”
“Wu Kong,” Tang Seng suddenly spoke up, his tone tinged with an imperceptible loneliness. “Do you know why these peonies are so exquisite?”
Wu Kong scratched his head in confusion and asked, “Master, aren’t flowers just beautiful? Why complicate it with questions?”
“Ah,” Tang Seng sighed. “No matter how beautiful a flower blooms, it will eventually wither. Everything in this world follows this principle; what flourishes must decline, and what reaches its peak must reverse. Just like this mundane world—it seems vibrant and bustling but hides dangers within. A moment's carelessness can lead one to an irretrievable abyss.”
Wu Kong listened in bewilderment, wanting to ask more but saw that Tang Seng had spurred his horse forward, seemingly unwilling to elaborate further. He could only shake his head and mount his horse to follow closely behind.
Comment 0 Comment Count