Chapter Forty-Seven: The Temptation of the Monkey

Beneath the warm sunlight, beside the tall tree, stood a young maiden. Her hair was styled in a graceful chignon, and her eyes sparkled brightly. Under the tree lay a familiar reclining chair, upon which a youth lounged in leisure and comfort. To his left, two half-grown children vigorously waved palm fans to stir the air, while the girl on his right occasionally offered him slices of peach, feeding him with gentle care.

All around them gathered a ring of children, along with several women who, having just finished washing clothes, were in no hurry to return home. An old man with white hair sat on a stone, weaving bamboo strips; his ears perked up attentively, and his hands paused from their work now and again.

“As the story goes, after the Tang Monk and his disciples ate the ginseng fruit at the Five Villages Temple, it was as though they had been reborn... Setting out on their journey, they came upon a tall mountain, where suddenly fierce winds and thick mists swept in...”

Mr. Feng, with his plastered, injured leg, unconsciously trembled in time with the tale’s rhythm. After three days of persistent persuasion, he had finally earned this rare chance to be outdoors. The reason: the books and historical records he kept in his room had soon been thoroughly studied, allowing him to show off his knowledge before Xiao Man and his mother.

With mother and daughter, as well as a dozen astonished servants bearing witness, the fellow had delivered a perfect example of what could only be called a damned surprise.

But for daytime outings, his choices were few. After a bowl of lamb soup noodles at Chunming Gate, he returned to lounge by the river.

Only then did he realize that the small courtyard beside the locust tree had been rented out. The owner, a genial old bamboo craftsman, upon hearing that Feng Jingzhe wished to tell stories to the children, graciously lent the shade of his tree.

In gratitude, and to make up for the interrupted installments of late, Feng Jingzhe recited the entirety of "Journey to the West" from beginning to end. He had only reached the part where Sun Wukong goes to the Cave of the Three Stars to learn his arts, when Meng Xiaodie somehow found her way over.

Yes, the girl who occasionally fed Feng Jingzhe fruit and massaged his leg was none other than the now-renowned leading folk performer of Chang’an. At this moment, Meng Xiaodie was simply dressed, her face veiled. It was hard to imagine that the new idol, whose face cost dozens of taels of silver to glimpse, was now here playing the role of servant—a truly staggering turn of events.

So, within less than an hour, the scene had transformed. Layer upon layer, three or four dozen people were packed together, oblivious to the fierce midday sun.

With the summer solstice only days away, even the cicadas overhead had begun to sing their lonely songs.

“The Tang Monk was swept up by a demonic wind, and transformed into a fierce, white-headed tiger... If you wish to know what happens next, you must wait for the next installment...”

Feng Jingzhe tapped his folding fan against the recliner’s armrest, signaling that today’s story had come to an end.

“Don’t stop, Master Feng... Please, keep going! What happened to the Tang Monk after he turned into a tiger?”

“Yes, yes! Did Pigsy run back to Gao Village again?”

“Big brother, big brother, please continue... We haven’t had our fill yet...”

Meng Xiaodie’s face was full of anticipation, and even the old bamboo craftsman could not help but look over, eager for more.

“Madam Ma, still here? Didn’t you say you had clothes to wash this morning? Besides, the sun is fierce—I have the shade, but aren’t you afraid you’ll all be scorched to the bone?”

Feng Jingzhe wore a bright smile, though inwardly he was grumbling. After more than an hour of storytelling, his throat felt dry enough to catch fire.

“Oh dear, I nearly forgot!” Madam Ma snapped back to reality and hurried off toward the riverbank, joined by many others who had been so absorbed in the story they had neglected their chores.

“It’s maddening, all these clothes to wash every day. If only I had magic like the Monkey King! Just a flick of the finger, and everything would be spotless...”

She spoke without thinking, but Feng Jingzhe, reclining, suddenly caught a spark of inspiration. He eyed the gently flowing river in the distance, and a thought quickly formed. Considering the vast stretch of riverbank, which still belonged mostly to the old General’s estate—now his own family’s land—he saw an opportunity.

“Changsheng... Li Changsheng... Where are you? Li... Chang... Sheng...”

“Here, here! I’m right here...” The broad-browed, wide-eyed man poked his head out from behind another locust tree, crumbs of plum cake still clinging to his lips.

To his further irritation, a shy-faced girl named Little Dou’er emerged alongside him.

“Damn it! Li Changsheng, you beast! She’s just a child...”

Feng Jingzhe was utterly at a loss, his face as black as a lump of coal. Now, at last, he understood how Meng Xiaodie had happened to cross paths with him so conveniently, and he wondered when these two had started conspiring together.

“Master... Master, I’m here...” As he drew closer, Feng Jingzhe realized the fellow had a faint red lip mark on his forehead.

“You useless fool, wipe that mud off your brow, or I’ll settle with you later!” With quick hands, Feng Jingzhe grabbed a napkin and wiped his forehead.

Meng Xiaodie, standing nearby, clearly noticed, but she only smiled brightly, evidently delighted.

“Hehe... Miss Xiaodie, forgive me, I just remembered something I must attend to. Perhaps another time we’ll have tea together... hehe...” Without waiting for her reply, he switched to his wheelchair and urged Li Changsheng to hurry off.

“Wait, Master Feng... wait... hmph...” Meng Xiaodie stamped her little foot, cheeks puffing adorably in frustration.

Meanwhile, in the old bamboo craftsman’s courtyard, an elderly woman was so infuriated she nearly snapped her writing brush.

“This fellow always leaves us hanging. Next time he comes, I’ll break his leg...” Her silver teeth bit her lip, a gesture oddly incongruous for someone of her age.

On the road, Feng Jingzhe’s face remained sullen.

“Well now, you’ve gotten bold, haven’t you? Your conscience has gone rotten! Since when did you develop a taste for young girls?”

“What young girls? Master, that’s unfair! Miss Dou’er is fourteen, you know...”

“Fourteen is still underage, isn’t it?”

“Miss Xiaodie is only sixteen... I’ll wait two years if I must...”

Seeing Li Changsheng’s matter-of-fact attitude, Feng Jingzhe could only sigh. There was no helping it—this era’s customs were just so. Many were betrothed at thirteen or fourteen and married by sixteen or seventeen.

Perhaps it was he who was out of step.

“Still daring to argue! If you don’t want to end up with two corpses for one soul, you’d better keep your belt tight!” He went on to explain the dangers of women bearing children too young, and only then did Li Changsheng realize the seriousness.

“So that’s it. No wonder you keep a respectful distance from Miss Xiaodie. Now I see—it’s because you’re waiting for her to grow up...”

Smack.

Unable to endure any longer, Feng Jingzhe stood on one leg and slapped Li Changsheng on the head.

“Always muddling about! Get lost—I don’t need you to push me. Just seeing your thick brows and big eyes annoys me!”

“But Master, Miss has strictly ordered me not to leave your side for a moment…”

Li Changsheng shook his head like a rattle, as if he were the picture of responsibility.

“Nonsense! Not leave my side? Who was just hiding behind the tree, sneaking food and nowhere to be found? Go, fetch Old Cang for me! I’ve just thought of a little money-making scheme…”