Master, just wait for me inside the circle; I will go ahead and take a look, then come right back. What happens if I step outside the circle? You will die!

Tang Seng felt quite helpless. His master told him that the true scriptures he was seeking were not the real ones; the true scriptures lay in a heart that held great love for all living beings. Yet, he didn't even possess small love. He lacked the five-hundred-year obsessions of Wukong, Zixia, and Jingjing, nor the millennia-long devotion of Bajie, and he didn't even have the resilience of Sha Seng, who carried the weight of everything on his shoulders, let alone the unrequited love of the White Dragon that spanned a hundred and eight thousand miles. If the Queen of Daughters Kingdom counted, there was one instance. That day, the wind was howling and the spring sun was bright. She dared to ask, "Holy Monk, is your daughter beautiful?" He looked back three times as he walked. "Beautiful? Beautiful, beautiful!" But he never said it aloud. Wukong smiled, and Bajie smiled too. He was only in his twenties. I remember that day, he had just passed his twenty-fifth birthday when Guanyin arrived and told him to go west to fetch the scriptures. How far? A hundred and eight thousand miles. What a coincidence, Wukong's somersault cloud was also exactly a hundred and eight thousand miles. Was a hundred and eight thousand miles the largest number back then? No. Wukong reached the stone pillar in one somersault, and with one more step, he would have been out of this world, but he didn't. He just wanted to leave a mark and go back, so he lost. The journey to fetch the scriptures was the same; the Buddha would not be waiting for him at a place a hundred and eight thousand plus one miles away, especially with Tang Seng as an uncontrollable variable, even though he had already gone through 29 incarnations and, in theory, had completely forgotten himself. That day, he went to find his master and told him about this. His master said nothing. He continued, "They told me to fetch the scriptures, but didn't give me any skills, only a shiny robe. Isn't this..." Before he could finish, he was interrupted. His master hesitated, then finally said, "You must hold great love in your heart, otherwise the scriptures you fetch will not be the true ones."

Master, what was your name before you became a monk?

I was born in the temple; there was never a time when I wasn't a monk. That's not right. How could a temple full of grown men... My master once said I drifted here on a river, so he called me Jiangliu. Drifted on a river? Then where did the river come from? That question... perhaps only the Buddha knows.

Sun Wukong, the Fighting Victorious Buddha. Thank you, Buddha. Kneeling, Wukong kowtowed, his head lowered into the dust. The last time he knelt was a long time ago, on a night when he couldn't jump across that long mountain stream. Exhausted and drained, he had knelt helplessly in front of a cave. "Why must you jump across?" the little fox asked. He said, "Because everyone thinks it's impossible to jump across. If I jump across, I will be very happy." Everyone thought of themselves as demons, just trying to survive, but I insist on telling them that I can do it too. A hero must have the determination to sacrifice his life, but unfortunately, he had attachments; he was not one. When Zixia's tears dripped onto his charred body, his hand gripping the silk scarf finally loosened. And then, there was no more Sun Wukong in the world, or perhaps no more Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Maybe they were both still there, but he was no longer the demon king who pointed his staff at a hundred thousand heavenly soldiers, acting invincible. He was just a protector of beauty who went to heaven to ask for reinforcements when he couldn't win. Could he not win? He didn't dare to win. It was clearly a trap set by others; either submit or resist. Would he resist? He was tired.

"Yo, is there a demon in this world that you, Great Sage Sun, cannot handle?"
………………Have you ever seen him answer? He just laughed, a soft, hollow laugh. Have you ever seen him resist? He watched as the demons, who would die with a single puff of his breath, beat him until he was covered in wounds. In the dead of night, he licked his own wounds, showing them to no one. One day, Tang Seng got up late at night and saw him, asking, "Why do you do this?" Wukong said, "I once admired someone very much, someone very much like you, but unfortunately, you are not him."
"I have been very obedient," he told everyone, expressing this message. And so, he finally became a Buddha, with all six senses purified, indifferent to the mortal world. Becoming a Buddha meant having nothing left—no Wukong, no Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He finally became the person he hated most, eating government grain without worrying about the rest of his life.
 The Buddha smiled, "You have attained enlightenment."
 

 Zhu Wuneng, the Altar Cleansing Envoy.
 Why did they all become Buddhas and I didn't!
 Hmm?
 Even if becoming a Buddha means being indifferent to the mortal world, at least you can be in heaven! Even if it's just to take a look from afar, that would be enough. But unfortunately, have you ever heard of a fairy who could occupy a palace all by herself with a rabbit? Have you ever seen a general demoted just for flirting with a concubine? Why was the concubine who was flirted with fine? And you still want to become a Buddha. The Buddha sipped his tea, very lightly.

As for Jiangliu, it was even more impossible for him to become a Buddha. Bajie was a favor granted, but Jiangliu was someone who could threaten his own position. "Go and spread the scriptures to the Great Tang." Yes, Buddha. May I ask one question? Hmm? Where did the river come from? The Buddha glanced at Jiangliu, "Naturally, from heaven." Thank you, Buddha. This poor monk understands. And so, he returned to the Great Tang to spread the scriptures. On the way back, naturally, no one stood in his way, except for a turtle who was desperate to die. He had thought these four were class enemies, but now they were friends too. He spread the scriptures he knew were not the true ones, and finally died of old age in the Great Tang, continuing to the next cycle. He had seen the old monk's miserable life in his later years but dared not help—no, he should have been powerless. He seemed to understand great love, but great love cannot make one a Buddha. What the Buddha made him understand was exactly this.

An actor addicted to the play finds it hard to wake up. But the play is life!

That legend, having forgotten my loneliness. Heroic names are not worth having, why call me chaos and waste my breath.

——The Journey to the West I Visited in My Dreams.

ps: Some plot elements are derived from Wukong Zhuan, A Chinese Odyssey, Monkey King: Hero Is Back, Ninety-Nine and Eighty-One, Journey to the West, and Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons.