After those words fell.
The wind along the riverbank suddenly grew colder.
Xuanzang looked at Wukong.
He did not retreat.
Nor did he grow angry.
Moonlight fell across his brows and eyes, making his face look somewhat pale.
Only after a moment did he say:
"This humble monk is Xuanzang."
Wukong did not move.
"Which Xuanzang?"
The wind suddenly rose.
Xuanzang's cuffs blew tight against his wrists.
Xuanzang lowered his head and straightened his robes.
His movements were slow.
And steady.
He raised his eyes to his disciples and smiled.
"How many Xuanzangs are there?"
Bajie immediately broke into a smile.
The smile lingered on his face, but his eyes did not relax with it.
"But my master wouldn't have said what you just said."
Xuanzang nodded.
"It did not sound like something I would say, but I did indeed say it."
The sound of waves rolled toward them.
Xuanzang stood where he was.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the waves were still sounding, the moonlight was still there, and Wukong was still staring at him.
Wukong did not smile. In a low voice, he said, "Master."
Xuanzang looked at him and said softly, "Wukong, I am here."
Then he looked at the disciples before him, their faces full of wariness and worry.
Wukong, Bajie, Little White Dragon, Sha Wujing, and A-Hu.
Xuanzang smiled and said:
"Do not worry, any of you. Your master is still here."
The corner of Bajie's mouth twitched.
He cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"Master, let me ask you something."
Xuanzang looked at him.
Bajie stuck out his belly.
"Don't you always love me, Old Pig, best?"
Wukong shot him a sidelong look.
Sha Wujing froze for a moment.
Little White Dragon rolled his eyes.
Xuanzang looked at Bajie.