Bajie woke again and looked up at the old pagoda tree.
Light slipped through the leaves, scattering in tiny flecks across his eyelids.
He sat cross-legged beside the roots, rested his hands on his knees, lowered his head, and began counting ants.
One, two, three. The ants marched along the roots in earnest, carrying things larger than their bodies, winding their way in a single direction.
Now and then, one stopped, twitched its antennae, then carried on.
Four, five, six.
"Old Zhu, why're you loafing under this tree again? What're you staring at? Your wife's searching the streets for you!"
A peddler walked past with his baskets, his carrying pole creaking.
Bajie grunted without looking up.
The peddler paused, then walked on.
Bajie started counting from the beginning.
"Woof, woof."
The big yellow dog darted out from somewhere, circled Bajie twice, came close to lick the back of his hand, then lay down with its head on his leg.
Bajie glanced at it and stroked its head.
The sky slowly darkened.
Bajie had sat beneath the tree all day. His legs had long since gone numb.
He shifted, stretched his legs out, leaned against the trunk, and closed his eyes.
Before long, he fell asleep.
The big yellow dog lifted its head off his leg.
It found another comfortable spot beside Bajie, lay down, gave an enormous yawn, and closed its eyes too.
The next day.
One, two.
A waiter from the Pagoda Tree Peace Inn came looking for him. He stood beneath the tree, looking down at him:
"Sir, please come back! At least get some rest before coming out again. The mistress is looking for you. You didn't come home last night-don't make us worry!"
Bajie watched an ant that had fallen behind. His lips moved:
"I