"Wukong."
The name lingered in the hall for a long time.
Wukong stood there, dazed.
He looked at Subhuti.
The last trace of stubbornness in his eyes faded little by little.
A tear fell to the floor.
Pat.
A faint sound.
Yet he seemed startled awake by it and raised a hand to wipe his face haphazardly.
The next moment.
He stepped forward and threw himself into Subhuti's arms.
"Master-"
He clutched Subhuti's Daoist robe.
Clutched it tightly.
Subhuti went still for a moment, then lowered his head to look at Wukong in his arms.
Subhuti raised a hand and rested it on Wukong's head.
He stroked it gently.
"You monkey."
Wukong buried his head, his voice muffled by his master's robes.
"Master, why did you drive me away back then? And why wouldn't you let me say you were my master?"
"I thought about it for so long, but I never understood. All I did was demonstrate my arts before my fellow disciples."
After speaking, he lifted his head.
The corners of his eyes were still red.
Subhuti looked at him.
After a long while, he sighed softly.
"Nothing from outside can enter my mindscape."
"If you could enter, then calamity had come as well."
Wukong froze.
"Calamity?"
Subhuti said, "Wukong, you are my opportunity to attain the Dao."
"And you are also my destined calamity."
"To you, I am the same."
Wukong tightened his grip on his master's sleeve.
"Master, what do you mean?"
"Everything Old Sun learned was taught by you."
"Without your teachings, I'd be nothing but a wild monkey on Flower-Fruit Mountain."
"How could I ever harm you?"
"And how could you be my destined calamity?"
Subhuti lowered his eyes.
The lamplight in the hall flickered.
"Emptiness is without form."
"With a name, one becomes