Wukong leapt into the air and soared skyward.
He opened wide his fiery eyes and gazed westward. Sure enough, he spotted a city not far off—about fifty kilometers away. As he drew near, he saw that it was shrouded in an eerie mist and constantly battered by a ghostly wind.
Just then, the eastern gate creaked open, and a group of horsemen emerged, soon revealing themselves to be an impressive hunting party.
The Monkey King mused to himself:
“It must be the prince. I’ll have a little fun with him.”
Wukong’s Trickery
He shifted the direction of his cloud and darted like an arrow toward the hunters.
When he was only a few paces away, he gave his body a slight shake and transformed into a small white rabbit, nearly bumping into the prince’s horse. Seeing this, a satisfied smile spread across his face. Quickly, he pulled out an arrow, drew back his bow, and shot at the creature.
The Monkey King pretended to be hit and fell to the ground. In truth, he had caught the arrow in time and merely feigned injury. Then, just as quickly, he sprang up and began to run wildly. Eager for the chase, the prince spurred his horse forward, pursuing the rabbit without realizing how far he was straying from the rest of the party. When the horse galloped, Wukong ran like the wind; when the horse slowed, he cunningly matched its pace, always keeping just the same distance ahead. Kilometer by kilometer, the prince was led farther and farther from his men, until finally he stood before the gates of the Precious Grove Monastery.
The Prince’s Confusion
Meanwhile, the prince could not understand the sudden disappearance of the rabbit.
He looked around in confusion and noticed only the eagle-feathered arrow embedded in the lintel. Bewildered, his face turned pale, and he muttered to himself:
“How strange! I’m certain I struck the rabbit directly. How can it vanish now, leaving behind only the arrow? It must have been a spirit. There’s no other explanation.”
The prince dismounted and approached the gate. He entered, and there he met the Tang Monk and his disciples.
“Where do you come from,” he asked, “and why do you wield such magical powers against me?”
Tripitaka stepped forward, greeted him respectfully, and replied:
“Though you may find it hard to believe, I possess no magic arts. I am but a humble monk from the Eastern Lands, journeying to the Western Paradise solely to obtain the sacred scriptures.”
Then Tripitaka recounted in detail the dream he had the previous night. He stepped closer to the prince and, with unexpected reverence, presented him with the white jade tablet inlaid with gold.
At the sight of it, the prince was overcome with sorrow, on the verge of tears:
“Even if I try not to believe you, at least thirty percent of what you say rings true. But how can I confront the king if I take your words seriously? It is always difficult to move forward or step back. In such moments, the mind must yield to reason. I must think carefully.”
A Mother’s Secret
Noticing the prince’s hesitation, the Monkey King added:
“There’s no need to waver so. The best course is to return to your kingdom and ask your mother. Ask her whether her feelings toward your father remain as tender as they were three years ago, or if she has noticed any change in him. That one question will reveal the truth—I guarantee it.”
The prince soon returned to the Black Rooster Kingdom. Following the Great Sage’s advice, he did not announce his arrival nor enter through the main palace gate, but through the servants’ entrance instead. A detachment of eunuchs guarded the gate, yet none dared stop him. The prince urged his horse forward and galloped into the court. Without delay, he made his way to the Pavilion of Embroidered Fragrance, where the dowager queen resided. She did not appear joyful—in fact, she was leaning over the pavilion railing, tears streaming down her face.
The young prince knelt before the pavilion and said:
“Mother.”
She tried to sound cheerful, though sadness lingered beneath her tone:
“My dear son! What joy! For the past two or three years, you’ve remained constantly by your father’s side, and I haven’t seen you even once. Oh, how I’ve missed you! I never imagined you would visit me today—what happiness! Yet, my child, why do you look so troubled? What burdens your heart?”
The prince replied:
“I wish to ask you something, Mother. Who is the person who sits upon the throne?”
The queen exclaimed, startled:
“Child, are you losing your senses? Of course it is your father. Why do you ask such a question?”
The prince answered humbly:
“I beg your forgiveness for my boldness. Only then shall I find the courage to ask another. Otherwise, I dare not proceed.”
Smiling gently, the queen assured him:
“Between mother and child, there can be no resentment. You know you may speak freely.”
The prince continued:
“Then allow me to ask this: Are your relations with my father still as loving and tender as they were three years ago?”
Upon hearing this, the queen felt her strength leave her, and she trembled inwardly.
Clutching her son tightly, she wept:
“It feels like ages since I last saw you. Why now, all of a sudden, do you come to ask me such a question?”
The prince pressed her:
“If you have something to tell me, please do so at once. If you refuse to help, know that your silence may endanger a matter of utmost importance.”
The queen dismissed all her attendants and, weeping with quiet solemnity, confessed:
“If you hadn’t asked, this secret would have died with me. Three years ago, your father was kind and affectionate, but since then he has grown cold as ice. When I seek intimacy and ask for proof of love, he refuses, saying, ‘I’m sorry, but I feel very weak; my strength is fading, and I grow old.’”
Hearing this, the prince threw himself to the ground once more and responded:
“I owe you an explanation. This morning, while my father held early court, I went hunting with his permission, accompanied by falcons and huntsmen. By sheer chance, I encountered a monk sent from the Eastern Lands to the Western Paradise in search of sacred scriptures. He told me that my real father had been murdered in the imperial garden, his body resting in the octagonal well lined with marble. After committing such an unforgivable crime, the Taoist assumed my father’s identity and usurped the dragon throne. At first I refused to believe him, but later I reconsidered and decided to come here and ask you personally. Now that you have spoken honestly, I know we live among a malevolent spirit—and moreover, my father left us proof.”
The Ghost King’s Token
When the queen asked what proof it was, the prince produced the white jade tablet inlaid with gold and handed it to her.
Recognizing it immediately, she could no longer hold back her tears:
“Last night, I also had a dream. Your father stood beside me and confessed he was dead. He told me he had gone to ask Master Tang to defeat the monster and rescue his body. I remember those words clearly, but there is a part I cannot fully understand. Go at once and tell the monk to act swiftly, so we may be freed from the demon’s influence and the truth may shine forth.”
Mounting his horse, the prince left the palace through the back gate and rode out of the city. Tears welled in his eyes as he sped like an arrow toward the Tang Monk.
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