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09 Old Gao's Village

Leaving the Guanyin Monastery, the Tang Monk and Wukong pressed on westward. It was early spring, peach-red and willow-green; master and disciple crossed mountain after mountain in good spirits, and five or six days passed before they knew it. Toward evening they came to a mountain village. "We have been on the road many days and are weary," said the Tang Monk. "Let us lodge here for the night and go on tomorrow." Wukong saw the village's thatched cottages row upon row and the smoke rising from their chimneys, judged it a decent place, and led his master in. At the mouth of the village they met a young man with an umbrella and a bundle on his back, hurrying out of it. Wukong caught hold of him. "What place is this?" The young man was in too great a hurry to answer, and Wukong held him fast. The young man twisted this way and that but could not break free, and his face went red with vexation. "He must be on urgent business — let him go. We can ask someone else the way." "Asking someone else would be no sport," said Wukong. "I mean to ask him."

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