The master and disciple continued west.
The mountain path was rugged. Loose stones rolled from beneath the white horse's hooves and tumbled over the cliff's edge, making faint, scattered sounds.
But the two of them talked more than before.
Sun Wukong picked wild fruit and handed it over. Tang Sanzang accepted it and ate it instead of turning his face away as he had over the past few days.
The monkey said the peaches on Flower Fruit Mountain were much sweeter.
Tang Sanzang said he could try them when he returned from his journey for the scriptures.
The monkey chuckled but said nothing.
Neither of them brought up the Golden Hoop again. It was as though they had silently agreed to turn the page.
Tang Sanzang still occasionally said things like "Do not kill," but his tone was no longer a cold reprimand. It sounded more like nagging!
Sun Wukong listened without talking back, merely baring his teeth in a grin.
To an outsider, this monk and monkey finally looked a little like master and disciple.
That night, Tang Sanzang fell asleep against an old pine tree.
Mountain wind surged up from the valley, rustling the pine needles. Moonlight slipped through the branches and fell in broken patches across his face.
He slept deeply, his breathing even, a faint smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.
Then he saw the White Jade Capital again.
The pure-white city floated above a sea of clouds, its walls gleaming white and smooth as mirrors.
Its gates stood wide open. Beyond them, the Steps rose straight upward, with immortal cranes standing motionless as statues on either side.
Tang Sanzang climbed the Steps with a light tread, no longer as frightened and uneasy as he had been on his first visit.
When he reached