Chapter Two:  My Parents

Huaguo Mountain is a tranquil island embraced by the East Sea, where flowers bloom year-round, fruit trees flourish, and winter is but a myth.

I was born and bred here. To me, it is the closest thing to a fairyland.

Yet, troubles never spare this secluded islet—not my birth, nor that old tale, whispered and retold hundreds, if not thousands, of times, not public, only secret.

Once again, I heard that story just a month ago.

I had no idea what was about to happen to me at the end of this ordinary afternoon, at the end of this ordinary summer, simply because of this tale, which I used to believe was nothing more than ethereal,

as I sat by Taitai Lake, dipping my feet into the cool water, watching other little monkeys roughhouse across this small lake;

as the sun blazed in the western sky, sending hot waves into the heart of this dense forest;

as the breeze brushed against my face, wafting scents of wildflowers, carrying their distant chatter beyond the water.

"Fairy peaches? That's just a daydream! No one has ever found that tree." said one voice.

"I can!" another little monkey retorted.

"Come on! Before you even catch a glimpse of the peach, tigers will have caught you——If you dare to set foot in the perilous West Mountain," warned a third.

"That's why we need courage and luck. Listen, I have an idea," the lead little monkey, One Hundred and Forty-Five, waving the wreath in his hand, other little monkeys on the shore or in the water came to his side.

Then he declared: "If someone can venture to West Mountain and find the fairy peach, we will honor him as our greatest hero, perhaps even crown him all Monkeys' King."

While speaking, he casually placed a wreath of willow branches on the other monkey's head.

"Wait, you actually believe that story? Are there peaches or anything else that could make us live for thousands of years? Come on!"

"Just give it a try." Many monkeys answered together.

"So, who? Who can do that?" One Hundred and Forty-Five asked.

Sadly, nobody uttered a word. It was as if everyone had dived into the water at the same time.

He just shuddered, "See? Nobody cares about this crown."

A little monkey perched on a strong pine branch sneered at One Hundred and Forty-Five ," That's just a joke. Who can believe you? You are talking about the throne. It's about the Chief. Does any Master or even the Chief himself would listen to you?"

All they roared into laughter.

"Don't you believe me? " One Hundred and Forty-Five, both embarrassed and upset.

"You idiots! Don't forget that our Chief has fallen ill for years?"

All laughter died instantly.

"Now you know," One Hundred and Forty-Five paused, scanning everyone's faces before continuing, "Last night, I overheard my brother telling my father that our Chief is planning to search for the Fairy Peach again..."

Just for a heartbeat, I glimpsed something—something that looked like fresh hope, shining in my world.

Was this my chance?

To be honest, I never cared about the Fairy Peaches, or being a hero, or even a king. All I ever wanted was to be one of them—to frolic, tumble, romp, laugh, and scream alongside them.

Year after year, all I could do was watch them—from a tree, across the riverbank, or trailing behind at a distance.

Even now, no one has invited me to join them. No one even notices I'm there. Just as always.

They say I'm different.

Born from a stone, with no parents—who knows what I am? Even monsters have parents. Maybe they'd rather play with a monster than with me.

Can I change that? What if I'm the one who finds the Fairy Peach?

I don't know. Maybe I just don't believe in the tale at all.

I stared at my own reflection—adrift in uncertainty.

A few falling petals drifted across my shadow.

A school of small grey-black fish slid past.

A pair of blue dragonflies zipped before my eyes.

Even they had companions.

For a moment, I wondered—was this a mistake? Did I truly belong here? Or was there another island, far away, where every monkey was born from stone, and a family was waiting for me?

If this is true, then what is that place called? Where is it? And how do I find my way back to my true home?"

For reasons unknown, 'Fruit-Flower Mountain' popped into my mind. Until I learn the true name of my real home, I'll call it that—because, in my view, everything in that place should be the opposite of here—Flower-Fruit Mountain."

The monkeys chattered excitedly. Then, by the waterside, a strange little monkey appeared, drawing everyone's attention. They all hailed him, calling out greetings.

He was pale and frail, his body thin as a leaf—so light that a gust of wind might carry him away. I had never seen him before.

Perhaps that's why he sat at the lake's edge, just like me, instead of splashing in the water or chasing the others around.

Maybe I had been watching him for a while, and he had noticed me, too. Slowly, he rose to his feet and walked toward me, his steps cautious.

I could have sworn he smiled at me.

Oh, Heavenly King, my breath catches in my throat. I sit still, my mind racing for the perfect way to say my first "hello."

Will he be my first friend?

He draws closer and closer. His lips part slightly—I'm certain, absolutely certain, that he's about to greet me with a friendly "hi."

Then, a strong hand clamps down on his narrow shoulder, yanking him back.

It's the lead little monkey.

He stops him, repeating the warning from his parents—no one is allowed to speak to me.

"You've only just started hanging out with us. You don't know much about him." His voice is firm, almost triumphant. "He was born from a stone, nothing like us. Our Grand Preceptor said he came into the world with a thunderclap."

He pauses, then adds with a smirk, "Maybe the next lightning strike will turn him back into stone. So tell me, why waste words on a rock?"

With that, they left.

I stand there, frozen.

I didn't even know how I made my way back to my small "home." It was just a tree hollow, but I had lived there for three years.

In the next three days, it just rained endlessly, soaking everything and casting a gloomy shadow over the world. I could do nothing but stay where I was. 

I forgot all about the fairy peach and the "Fruit-Flower Mountain"—as if they were just a dream that disappears when you wake up. In their place, an ugly, poisonous caterpillar slithered into my heart, casting a long shadow over all my dreams.

I wasn't afraid of being hungry. I wasn't afraid of getting hurt. I had lived with them for as long as I could remember. But turning back into a stone—not able to run, talk, or eat—just thinking about it sent chills down my spine!

Turning into a statue? That must be the only thing scarier than death!

Oh, my Heavens! I can't sleep. No matter how tired I am, I just can't fall asleep.

I never know when a bolt of lightning might strike, turning me to stone in an instant. Maybe it will happen without warning. Maybe it's already on its way.

So I keep my eyes wide open, staring at the sky, as I always do.

If there were a place free from fear and pain—if I had any choice at all—I would choose to become a star, nestling in the vast, eternal night sky, where a distant sanctuary of peace and silence awaits. But for three nights, there were just dark clouds chasing or overlapping each other.

My owl neighbors hooted with their babies as if trying to split the endless drizzle.

Why don't I have parents? Everyone else does—noble or humble, kind or cruel. Why can't I?

The question had echoed in my mind countless times. I had asked the trees, the flowers, the clouds—even the Sun and the Moon. But they always answered with silence.

The night stretched endlessly beyond the trees. Shadows pooled beneath the branches like spilled ink. Everything had fallen asleep, leaving silence to keep the darkness company.

I climbed down.

A narrow dirt path wound down the gentle slope, through the grassland, worn smooth by my tiny feet.

Not far from the old pine where I lived, hidden among short cypresses and wild silver grass, lay two small white stones—one slightly larger than the other, both about half my size.

Whenever I feel sad, I sit beside them and whisper my thoughts.

They were once part of the great stone I was born from—the only things in this world that share a "blood tie"... or maybe a "stone tie" with me.

I wish they could be my parents.

I call them Father and Mother.

This is my biggest secret. I've never told my uncle, even though he's the only one who ever talks to me on this mountain.

I'm afraid he'll laugh at me.

As I drew closer to my "stone parents," unease crept in like mist through the grass.

I never visit them at night—not just because the silver grass that shimmers so gently in the daylight now looks like blades waiting to cut my hands and legs,

but because of a greater danger lurking in the darkness—tigers, the worst nightmare for most monkeys on this island.

My uncle always says they hide in the tall grass, waiting to strike when we least expect it.

He warns me never to step into the grassland after sunset.

I know he's right.

But I just can't follow his words tonight.

In fact, he had tried again and again to take me into the Water Curtain Cave—a vast shelter hidden behind a roaring waterfall, guarded by young, strong monkeys.

The safest place on the mountain for our kind.

He even pleaded with the Masters to let me stay in a corner, but they refused.

In the end, he had to find me another home.

A tree hollow—high up, roomy, and lined with hay for bedding. It sat near the Water Curtain Cave, far away from the dark, damp forests.

I survived.

And somehow, I grew.

I took a large banana leaf as my umbrella and stood between my "parents," as if they were embracing me—stroking my head, patting my back, asking what was wrong. And just like that, peace came.

Magic.

For the first time in three days, my stomach growled.

Then it struck me—I shouldn't be so worried about turning to stone. Chances were, I'd end up in a tiger's mouth long before that.

Not even a joke.

The only place I could find food was on those desolate, pathless hills crawling with tigers. Sometimes I wonder—am I looking for food for myself, or feeding the tigers? I don't get to choose.

The nearby peach groves belong to other monkeys. They never let me look at the fruit, let alone touch it.

At last, a fine morning broke through the gloom. I had eaten nothing in three days but a few raindrops. I was starving. I had to find something—anything—to fill my poor belly. And I knew there was one place that never let me down.

West Mountain, on the far side of the island. Peaches everywhere. But the cost is... everything.

The slopes were maddeningly steep—rocks scattered like bones, cliffs nearly vertical. No trail. No shade. I had to cling to the jagged rocks like they were my last hope, inching upward. One slip, and it would all be over.

Worse still—the tigers.

Absurd, really. It was as if they understood my desperation. I was the only monkey foolish enough to come this far, so they just waited by the peach trees, jaws wide open.I think it was their way of showing me one final courtesy— "Well, hello there, little one. Right this way."

I had to move like a shadow. No sound. No mistake.

Still, I headed west. Hunger had burned away all reason.

I was terrified, after all. The more scared I got, the less my limbs listened. And then—

Snap.

A sound.

A roar cracked the air.

The tiger leaped in front of me, its mouth red with blood. My soul nearly left my body.

That's the last thing I remember.

When I woke again, it was morning. I was lying on the grass, at the bottom of a valley. Every inch of me hurt. I tried to move. I couldn't even twitch a finger. I knew then—I must've broken every bone.

Tears welled in my eyes.

Not from pain.

Not even from hunger.

Just... from nothing.

Because I was nothing.

Maybe this was it. The end of a short, pathetic life.

A monkey with no family, no friends, no one coming to help.

How would I survive?

I wouldn't.

Hopeless.

No doubt.