Chapter 953
Chapter Recollection
Pigsy quickly withdrew his hand, looking guilty.
"I forgot, I forgot... Brother Chu Yang, are you alright?"
Chu Yang rubbed his shoulders and shook his head with a wry smile.
"It's alright. Let's go back; we need to tell Master the news."
The three men left a few strong laborers to continue guarding the spring and clearing the gullies, while the rest of them returned to the city to report the news.
Before they even reached the city gate, they saw a figure rushing out of it.
It's Tang Sanzang.
He hadn't even had time to put his robe on properly; one corner dragged on the ground, covered in a layer of dust. He had clearly received some news and had run all the way out of the city.
"Master Chu...Master Chu—" He ran breathlessly to Chu Yang, bending over and catching his breath before finally managing to speak, "The people in the city say...water is flowing in from outside the city...is that true?"
Chu Yang tilted his head slightly to the northeast outside the city.
"Master, go see for yourself."
Tang Sanzang looked in the direction he was pointing.
At the foot of the distant hills, a slender silver ribbon meanders along the gully towards the city. Under the scorching sun, the water reflects a blinding white light, like a swimming silver serpent.
Tang Sanzang was stunned.
He stared at the stream of water for a very long time.
Then he turned his head and looked at Chu Yang.
There were tears in his eyes.
“Benefactor Chu…”
Chu Yang said, "Master, there's no need to thank me. The ones who should be thanked are Wukong and Bajie; they did all the digging and rock-carving work. And those villagers who helped—without them carrying soil and clearing the ditches, the water couldn't have been brought in."
Tang Sanzang shook his head.
"This humble monk is not trying to thank you. This humble monk is... this humble monk was thinking—"
His voice was choked with emotion.
"This humble monk preached the Dharma in the city for three days, telling everyone to be patient, to help each other, and to believe that after suffering comes happiness. Yet, after three days of preaching, not a single person has been given a sip of clean water."
"And you solved this problem in just one day."
He looked into Chu Yang's eyes.
"This humble monk suddenly realized... while Buddhism is excellent, sometimes a sip of water can save a life more effectively than a scroll of scripture."
Chu Yang quietly watched Tang Sanzang.
This person is changing little by little.
From the stubborn and pedantic bookworm we first met at the foot of Five Elements Mountain, to the seeker of the Tao who began to reflect after the White Bone Demon incident, and then to the traveler who gradually learned to weigh things after Yellow Wind Ridge.
Now he has taken another step.
He began to ponder—what exactly should be the relationship between Buddhism and secular life?
“Master, you’re right,” Chu Yang said softly, “but these two things are not contradictory.”
Tang Sanzang looked at him.
"Water can quench thirst, but it can't quench the bitterness in one's heart. The people in this city have been thirsty for two years; the despair and fear in their hearts are more tormenting than physical thirst. What you said in the soup kitchen these past three days gave them hope. With hope, they have been able to hold on until today."
"Without your reassurance over these past three days, some people might have given up, run away, or even committed suicide. It was you who kept them here. Because they stayed, they were able to drink this water today."
Tang Sanzang was stunned.
Chu Yang continued, "Buddhist teachings are medicine for the mind, and water is medicine for the body. Neither can be lacking. The master heals the mind, and the disciple heals the body; each simply fulfills their role."
Tang Sanzang stood silently for a long time.
A mountain breeze blew in from the direction of the hills, and unlike the previous days, this breeze carried a hint of moisture.
That was the moisture rising from the groundwater. Although it was so faint that it was almost imperceptible, it did indeed change the smell of the air.
Tang Sanzang clasped his hands together and bowed deeply to Chu Yang.
“Benefactor Chu—no, Chu Yang—”
This was the first time Tang Sanzang had called him by his name directly.
Thank you.
Chu Yang turned slightly to the side, refusing the bow.
"Master, don't thank me. Hurry back to the city and arrange manpower. After the water is brought into the city, we still need to build reservoirs and dig ditches; there's a lot of work to be done."
Tang Sanzang wiped his eyes, nodded vigorously, and turned to walk quickly toward the city gate.
His steps were much lighter than when he arrived. One corner of his robe still dragged on the ground, covered in dust, but he seemed completely unconcerned.
Pigsy followed behind, carrying his rake and muttering to himself as he went.
"This is the first time Master has called Brother Chu Yang by his name today... Wasn't it always 'Benefactor Chu, Benefactor Chu' before...?"
Sun Wukong chuckled beside him.
"Calling him by his name means you consider him one of your own. Before, calling him 'benefactor' was just politeness. Now, calling him by his name means you treat him as a disciple, just like you and me."
Pigsy said "Oh".
"When will Master stop calling me Wuneng and just call me Bajie?"
"When you stop slacking off a couple of times."
"Monkey King!"
Chu Yang walked at the very back, listening to the two people in front of him bickering, and the corners of his mouth slowly widened.
When he left that dry city, all the people of the city came out to see him off.
People of all ages crowded on both sides of the official road at the city gate. Some held fresh water drawn from the spring, some carried their last eggs and flatbreads, and some stood silently by the roadside watching them with red eyes.
The man in question was a dark-skinned, thin man in his fifties, who led a group of local gentry to kneel at the city gate and kowtow three times.
"Master, benefactor, I will never forget your great kindness..."
Tang Sanzang quickly went to help him up.
"No, no, please get up!"
After some back and forth, the group finally managed to get away and continue their journey.
Looking back, the people at the city gate had not yet dispersed. In the distance, a group of black dots could be seen standing there for a very long time, until the outline of the city was obscured by the hills.
After that, the days returned to the monotonous routine of traveling.
To say it's monotonous wouldn't be entirely accurate. The scenery along the westward journey is constantly changing—after emerging from the arid hills, the terrain gradually flattens out, and fields of farmland and villages reappear. The crops aren't growing very well, as this area has been affected by the drought to some extent, but at least they're green, which is comforting to see.
The problem is that the road is too long.
Day after day, from sunrise to sunset, it was all about traveling. Occasionally, they would stay overnight in villages and towns, only to have to get up before dawn the next day and continue their journey. On good days, they would travel on official roads, where the surface was smooth and their feet could walk more easily; on bad days, they would travel on mountain paths, where loose stones would hurt their feet, the slopes were steep and the bends sharp, and even the white horse had to move its hooves very carefully.
Nine days after leaving the dry city, Chu Yang began to sense that something was wrong.
It's not a problem with the roads, it's a problem with the people.
Pigsy was the first to show signs of fatigue.
This is not surprising. Pigsy's physical strength is actually not bad, but his problem has never been physical fatigue, but mental exhaustion. After traveling for nine consecutive days without encountering monsters or towns, seeing only the same field ridges and dirt roads every day, his energy was visibly declining. A few days ago, he would still bicker with Monkey King, complaining about the long journey, the hot weather, and the lack of food, and sometimes he could even hum a few off-key tunes. By the seventh day, he didn't even have the energy to complain anymore. Carrying his rake, he walked at the back of the group, his head drooping, his two long ears swaying, looking like two frost-bitten lotus leaves.
The white horse's pace slowed down. Its hooves were badly worn from the long journey, and the iron fossa of its left hind hoof was so thin that it was almost worn through. It would occasionally slip on the gravel road and had to stop from time to time to adjust its pace.
Tang Sanzang showed no signs of fatigue—at least not on his face. He remained upright on his horse, holding his staff, gazing ahead, and occasionally reciting a few lines of scripture.
But Chu Yang noticed a few details.
Tang Sanzang's posture had subtly changed over the past few days. When they first set off, he sat ramrod straight, his back like a javelin. By the fifth day, his back had begun to slouch slightly forward, like a bamboo pole bent a little by the wind. Today—the ninth day—his shoulders had noticeably slumped, his grip on his staff was looser, and several times Chu Yang saw his eyelids drooping, his head slowly swaying down, almost touching his chest before jerking back up.
Sun Wukong is the only one who is completely unaffected.
He was still incredibly energetic, darting around the group, sometimes climbing trees by the roadside to pick fruit, sometimes jumping onto the ridges of fields to chase grasshoppers, and sometimes catching a wild rabbit from somewhere and waving it in front of Pigsy by the ears.
"Silly boy, how about I add an extra dish for you tonight?"
Pigsy didn't even bother to look at it, and just grunted in response.
Sun Wukong raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Chu Yang.
Chu Yang shook his head slightly.
Sun Wukong's expression changed, he tucked the rabbit into his waistband, and jumped to Chu Yang's side.
"What's wrong?"
Chu Yang lowered his voice: "Brother Monkey, how do you think everyone's condition is?"
Sun Wukong glanced around at the ranks and scoffed.
"You idiot, you can barely walk anymore, and even your master is forcing himself to keep going. You're not much better off—don't think I, Old Sun, didn't see your right foot constantly swaying outwards when you walk. Did you sprain it?"
Chu Yang gave a wry smile.
Yes, I sprained it. Yesterday afternoon, while walking on a mountain path, I stepped on a loose rock and twisted my right ankle. It's not serious, but it aches slightly after walking for a while.
"It's nothing serious. But we really should rest. Walking for nine days straight takes a toll on our bodies."
Sun Wukong curled his lip dismissively: "I, Old Sun, think it's fine—"
"Brother Monkey, your constitution is different from ours. You were born from a stone, while we are mortals."
Sun Wukong thought about it and admitted it.
"Then you should talk to your master. If your master says to stop, then stop."
Chu Yang glanced at Tang Sanzang on horseback ahead.
"I told you. I told you last night."
"What did Master say?"
He said, 'The journey is still long, so we must not slacken our efforts. I am in good health, so there is no need to worry.'"
Sun Wukong chuckled.
"That's just how Master is. If you ask him to chant scriptures, he can chant until dawn without stopping; but if you ask him to rest, he's more stubborn than anyone else. Last time before we crossed Huangfeng Ridge, I, Old Sun, told him to rest for half a day before continuing, but he absolutely refused."
Chu Yang sighed.
He understood Tang Sanzang's mindset. In Tang Sanzang's mind, the journey to the West to obtain Buddhist scriptures was a sacred mission bestowed upon him by Buddha and Guanyin Bodhisattva, and every day's journey was related to the propagation of Buddhism and the salvation of all sentient beings. Driven by this sense of mission, he regarded "traveling" as a form of spiritual practice and "fatigue" as a test that must be overcome in the process.
Stop and rest? Isn't that just being lazy?
Tang Sanzang wasn't unaware of fatigue. He just felt he had no right to complain about being tired.
But the body doesn't lie. If this continues, within three days, either Pigsy will collapse or the White Dragon Horse will break down.
Chu Yang was considering countermeasures in his mind.
Talking to Tang Sanzang directly about "we should rest" will definitely not work; we already tried that yesterday. Once Tang Sanzang has made up his mind about something, direct persuasion will only arouse his stubbornness.
We need to find another way.
He pondered for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Brother Monkey, where is the nearest town ahead?"
Sun Wukong leaped onto the top of a tall poplar tree by the roadside, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked ahead.
"About twenty li ahead, there's a fairly large town. Behind the town is a mountain, and on its slopes, there seems to be a temple—it has blue tiles and white walls, and it looks quite grand."
Chu Yang's eyes lit up.
A town with a temple.
That makes things easier.
"Brother Monkey, is that temple big?"
"It's not small. It looks like it has several courtyards, and there's a large bell hanging at the entrance."
"Okay." Chu Yang smiled slightly. "Brother Monkey, do me a favor."
Sun Wukong jumped down from the tree and raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of help?"
Chu Yang whispered a few words in his ear.
Sun Wukong's face first showed confusion, then understanding, and finally a knowing, mischievous grin.
"You little rascal, you're even more cunning than I am. Fine, I'll take care of it."
He somersaulted out and flew forward along the official road.
Chu Yang looked in the direction where he disappeared, a slight smile playing on his lips.
……
About half an hour later, Sun Wukong returned.
He landed in front of Tang Sanzang's horse, looking excited.
"Master! Master! There's a big temple ahead! I, Old Sun, just went to scout it out. The temple is called—what was it again—"
He scratched his head, clearly "recalling".
"It's called Baolin Temple! The abbot was overjoyed to hear that a high-ranking monk from the Tang Dynasty was passing through. He insisted on inviting the master over for a visit, saying he wanted to exchange Buddhist teachings with him!"
Tang Sanzang's brow twitched slightly.
"Baolin Temple? This humble monk has never heard of it."
"It's normal that Master hasn't heard of this small temple deep in the mountains. However, the abbot said that their temple possesses a unique copy of the *Lankavatara Sutra*, handwritten by a high-ranking monk from a previous dynasty; no other copy can be found outside. He heard that Master is a pilgrim on a pilgrimage and especially wants to invite Master to come and appraise it."
Tang Sanzang's eyes changed.
The *Lankavatara Sutra Records*. This is an important text documenting the lineage of Chan Buddhism, extremely rare even in Central China. If this secluded mountain temple truly harbors a unique, handwritten copy…
"Really?" Tang Sanzang's voice carried a hint of barely suppressed interest.
“Absolutely true! The abbot also said that the temple has a scripture library containing hundreds of volumes of Buddhist scriptures, some of which are original Sanskrit texts transmitted from India. Hasn't Master always been saying he wanted to see what original Sanskrit texts look like? This is a rare opportunity.”
Tang Sanzang tightened his grip on the staff.
Chu Yang then chimed in at the opportune moment.
“Master, since fellow Buddhist practitioners have invited us and there are rare Buddhist scriptures available for study, why not go and sit down? Cultivation is not just about traveling; exchanging ideas and discussing the Dao with learned individuals is also a form of cultivation.”
Tang Sanzang remained silent for a few moments. (End of Chapter)