Bajie froze where he stood, the bitter wind slipping through his torn jacket.
Though he felt no cold, his belly contracted and he leaned backward.
Sha Wujing hurried up in a few strides, carrying the luggage on his shoulder pole.
He looked down at the thick jacket.
The tear ran from the chest all the way down to the waist.
A few wisps of cotton stuffing still clung to its edges.
Sha Wujing's face crumpled.
"This could have lasted so much longer."
Bajie looked down, then raised a hand to hold the jacket closed over his belly.
"Old Sha."
"Clothes are mere worldly possessions."
"You mustn't cling to them."
Sha Wujing looked up at him.
His eyes had even reddened a little.
"Second Brother."
"I told you to be careful."
"We don't even feel the cold."
"But you insisted on wearing it."
"These are Master's clothes."
At that, Bajie immediately fell silent.
He hurriedly fumbled his way out of the thick jacket.
"Oh dear, oh dear. Don't cry, Old Sha, don't cry."
"I didn't ruin it on purpose."
He held the jacket out to Sha Wujing.
"It's old anyway. Isn't this a good chance to get Master a new one?"
Sha Wujing snatched it from him.
"How can you say that, Brother?"
"These are perfectly good clothes."
"Look what you've done."
He spread the tear open for Bajie to see.
"He can't even wear it now."
"You shouldn't have been playing around in it."
"What a waste."
Bajie opened his mouth.
Whatever happened, Old Sha would usually just give a simple, good-natured smile.
Now he stood clutching the torn jacket, complaining with reddened eyes.
Instead, Bajie found himself not daring to speak.
Sha Wujing looked down at the tear.
His fingers pinched the cotton stuffing and did not let go