The Monkey King

Early in the morning, on the rugged mountain road, a young monk came on horseback.

Rolling the reins in one hand, holding the golden staff tightly in the other, the broad cassocks squeaked in the wind, and the tall white horse under the crotch had whiskers flying.

That galloping momentum is like a fierce general charging on a horse.

Different from ordinary wandering monks, he is young, with a handsome face, piercing eyes looking straight ahead, resolute and determined. There was no trace of joy and anger on his face, he was not as kind-hearted as other monks, but he had an indescribable determination.

"This is the Five Elements Mountain." He tightened the reins, the white horse stopped abruptly, and stepped out of hooves.

His eyes began to search the mountains.

"Who?" In a rare place in the mountains in the distance, a furry hand suddenly stretched out from the grass. Pushing aside the grass, a monkey head covered with withered grass was revealed.

"Pooh."

Spit out the two weeds in his mouth, Hericium took a deep breath, and stammered: "Disturbing people's dreams! Go to Lao Tzu!"

The echoes of the empty mountains echoed with the roar of monkeys.

"Where?" The monk followed the voice and looked, instigating the white horse to move forward slowly.

Soon, the monkey and the monk met.

The moment he saw the monkey, the monk smiled. The moment he saw the monk, the monkey also laughed, but it was a sneer.

"It's you?" The monkey already knew the identity of the other party and even the purpose of his visit when he saw the clothes. History is always changing, and history is strikingly similar.

The original lazy expression suddenly turned into a sneer: "What are you doing here? Let Lao Tzu go to the West to learn scriptures?"

The monk did not speak, but with a staff, he climbed the slope step by step along the pile of rocks, with neat hands.

"Go back. You are the ones who pressed me, and you are the ones who let me go. What are you talking about to become a Buddha? What are you going to be a Lao Tzu?" Said, the monkey sneered sneeringly, with a sharp grin in his grinning mouth. Teeth, with a hint of madness.

"Why bother? Don't the donor want to press here for another five hundred years?" The monk sighed, but didn't stop.

"It's my own business to press ten thousand years, so what's the deal with you bald donkey?" The monkey felt around with his only movable hand, trying to find a stone to throw at it, but found that it was five hundred years old. Shi has long lost all his time when he was bored to pass the time. Only a handful of dirt can be touched now.

Soil works too! The monkey threw it out: "Get out!"

The soil scattered in the air into a gray patch, and the moment it touched the monk's robe, it all avoided as if it had spirituality. This surprised the monkey and had to look at the monk carefully.

About two feet away from the monkey, the monk Zhu stopped with his staff, smiled and stared at the monkey.

"Monkey head, let's talk." The monk said.

Shangxuan's moon-like eyes seemed to be able to see through a person's heart, which made the monkey's heart tremble.

"There's nothing to talk about, I'm sleepy, and I have to go back to make up for a sleep. I won't hinder you from studying scriptures, and you shouldn't hinder me from sleeping. It's good that everyone's well water doesn't cause river water." ears, turned his head away from him.

"Don't you want freedom?" the monk asked.

"Of course I do."

"I'll let you out, and you'll be free if you protect me from studying the scriptures from the West." The monk spread his hands and said.

"Humph! That's freedom? Can I do whatever I want?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to pierce the sky and let the fire of the sky burn all the palaces in the sky to ashes!" said the monkey viciously.

"No." The monk replied blankly.

"Isn't that the end? If you are not free here, you will not be free when you go out! Instead, I might as well be here, so I don't have to suffer from the fuss!"

The monk sighed silently and folded his hands together: "Anita Buddha, I heard that you are stubborn and stubborn, and I don't think you will easily follow me westward, as expected."

After speaking, the monk strode forward, brushed his sleeves and sat on the side of the monkey, leaned his staff against the foot of the cliff, picked a wild orange not far away, broke it, and placed it in front of the monkey: "You have the ability to reach the sky, and you have practiced for many years. Are you willing to be trapped here?"

Smelling the slightly sour taste of the orange, the monkey was instantly greedy.

He hadn't eaten fruit for decades. Last time, a child passed by and gave him two. After eating, he planted the seeds beside him with great anticipation.

But the soil here is not suitable at all, and there is no germination.

Finally last year, a fruit tree started to grow not far from him, and a branch stretched out towards him. But this branch is growing, it is not growing anymore!

Trees don't grow towards corners without much sunlight...

This caused the monkey to watch the orange blossom, and as a result, it fell and rotted, but it could only swallow.

Turning around, he picked up the orange and put it in his mouth to chew carefully. The monkey asked back, "What can I do if I'm not willing? Lao Tzu is omnipotent in the world, and he works hard to seek longevity and freedom. In the end, he is in the sky. The underground can't tolerate it. What about the ability to reach the sky?"

That endless whirlpool, I don't want to step into it again in this life.

The monk didn't speak, just looked at the monkey quietly and with a smile.

Faced with an opponent who is not angry and intends to stalk, the monkey is a little discouraged. He can keep splashing, but in any case, even if he hits it with a great force, it seems to be hit in the air: "So what I hate the most is the bald donkey."

"Tell me."

"Um?"

"I must be very lonely here. You should be a poor monk who is passing by and tell me about you. If you don't want to go west with me, you must not force it."

"Speak up! What can I say?" Before he finished speaking, the monkey saw the monk pinching his hands and pressing it on his forehead.

"What are you doing?" the monkey yelled.

"If you don't tell me, the poor monk will have to see for himself."

Autumn cicadas chirped, the lone geese flew south in the sky, and a beetle spread its wings and leaped into the distance, leaving only the swaying leaves.

The monkey only felt that the scene in front of him was gradually blurring...

Eight hundred years is like a dream.