"No!"
As that cry fell, the lamplight in the room flickered slightly.
Sanzang lowered his eyes, a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Oh?"
"Fellow seeker, why are you so certain this time?"
He pressed a fingertip against the bronze mirror's rim. The mirror tilted slightly, shifting the face reflected in it half an inch.
"Could it be that, even after hearing what I said, you still believe I am inferior to you?"
Within the mirror, Xuanzang did not answer at once. Through its mottled surface, he looked quietly at Sanzang.
Outside, the wind suddenly rose.
It brushed across the window paper, as though someone had gently tapped a knuckle against the lattice.
Tap.
Xuanzang shook his head.
"When I said 'no,' it had nothing to do with who was better."
He stared into Sanzang's eyes and said, each word distinct:
"It was because every reason you gave was one I heard myself, all those years ago."
The smile froze on Sanzang's lips.
"When I journeyed west, I was not alone the entire way."
"I, too, had companions who shared my aspirations."
"What they said was exactly what you just said, word for word."
"After saying it, they turned back."
Xuanzang's voice was quiet, yet every word landed in Sanzang's heart:
"They said there was no water ahead, and death was certain."
"They said that beyond the frontier, we could not speak the language, and bandits ran rampant."
"They said the court had forbidden it, and if we were brought back, punishment was inevitable."
"They also said, 'Master, why put yourself through this? Returning to preach the scriptures would earn immense merit too.'"
Sanzang said nothing. His fingers tightened further around the mirror's rim.
Xuanzang continued:
"You said Wukong and the others each had their own motives and refused