At those words, the simple, guileless smile slowly faded from Sha Wujing's face.
He lowered his head, his voice muffled. "Master, did I do something wrong?"
Xuanzang looked at him gently and said in a warm voice, "I'm merely worried you're overworking yourself."
Sha Wujing raised his head, scratched the back of it, and gave a foolish chuckle. "It's fine, it's fine. I'm strong!"
Xuanzang gently patted A-Hu. A-Hu stopped, and Xuanzang swung down from the tiger's back.
He walked up to Sha Wujing and asked, "May I see those slips?"
Sha Wujing froze for a moment, then grinned. "Of course, of course!"
He set down his load, crouched, and began rummaging, exposing the jumble of odds and ends beneath.
"Master, the villagers wanted to give them to you in the first place! They were just embarrassed. I told them my master would surely agree to help them once he knew!"
Sha Wujing kept talking as he rummaged, his voice carrying the pride of someone showing off his treasures.
Xuanzang said nothing.
He bent down and drew a crumpled scrap of paper from the pile.
It bore only a drawing of a little figure kneeling beside a field.
Beside the figure were several crooked lines: half-withered seedlings.
The drawing was extremely crude, but it was clear its maker had pressed hard, scoring the strokes deep into the paper.
"This was a plea from Granny Wang, the one with bad legs in that hamlet we passed."
Sha Wujing pointed at the drawing. "She said she hoped her crops would grow well, her son would be safe, and she could live a few more years."
Bajie came over too and picked a scrap of cloth from the pile.
"What about this one?" Bajie asked.
Sha Wujing glanced at it. "That was Uncle