A Secret Journey ( Wukong X Sanzang )

Chapter 9: Autum Leaves Fall

The cool breeze swept through the ancient forest, coaxing dark orange leaves from the weary branches of the trees. The animals scurried and roamed, their instincts driving them to gather sustenance before the impending arrival of winter. Meanwhile, the group of monks trudged onward toward the west, their tattered robes dragging along the ground.

Trotters, webbed feet, and paws crunched and rustled the vibrant carpet of scarlet and gold that covered the forest floor. Autumn had always been Sanzang's favorite season, and he made no secret of his adoration, bombarding his disciples with poetic verses celebrating the beauty of fall.

However, Wukong despised this season. It ranked second on his list of most detested times of the year, as it served as a painful reminder of the gradual descent into cold darkness and eventual demise.

Each time a leaf fluttered down in front of his face, Wukong's countenance soured. He yearned for eternal spring, with its vibrant greens, radiant sun, and succulent fruits. He longed for the lively chirping of birds and the playful screeches of his primate companions. During springtime, they would frolic carefree, oblivious to the passage of time. The reminder that all good things must come to an end was a bitter pill for him to swallow. Everything had its expiration, except him.

"Let's take a brief respite here," Sanzang proposed.

"Gladly!" Pigsy exclaimed, plopping down onto the ground, causing a flurry of fallen leaves to dance in the air.

For the first time in his centuries of existence, Wukong desired solitude. He silently ventured deeper into the forest, seeking solace among the ancient trees.

.

.

.

Finding respite on a fallen oak tree, the immortal sage ran his fingers along the rough crevices of the weathered bark. Gazing down at a small, muddy puddle, his own reflection stared back at him. His hand slowly retreated from the tree, reaching up to caress his fair skin. Age spots, scars, and wrinkles were absent from his visage, preserving his appearance since the moment he burst forth from his stone egg. However, now his eyes held visible dark circles, and the fiery intensity within his red irises had dimmed. Had he retained his former glory, or had that powerful, arrogant, and rebellious version of himself become a distant memory? He had been reduced to a mere pet.

His sensitive ears perked up at the familiar footsteps approaching from behind, yet he kept his head low. Initially desiring solitude, why would he seek the company of Sanzang? He had resolved to maintain a professional distance from his master, particularly after that night. The embarrassment remained too potent.

"Don't wander off like that, my goodness! What happened to the Mr. Paranoid who would never let his gaze stray from me?" Sanzang scolded.

"I can hear your shrill cries from miles away. I'll know if you're in danger," Wukong sighed, resting his head upon his palms.

Sanzang found his disciple's behavior peculiar. He took a seat beside Wukong and placed a delicate hand upon the sage's tense shoulders. A jolt coursed through Wukong's body as his master's touch enveloped him. Since that incident in the tent, Sanzang had grown increasingly tactile...

"What troubles your mind, Monkey? I sense something is amiss," Sanzang's voice, tender and affectionate, could melt the stoniest of hearts.

Though lacking supernatural abilities, Sanzang possessed a captivating presence that made it nearly impossible for the immortal monkey to conceal his thoughts and emotions.

Their eyes locked, both a deep brown reminiscent of the tree supporting them side by side. "Oh, it's nothing of consequence, Master. I was simply contemplating... life," Wukong finally revealed.