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墨書 Inktalez
The Heavenly Realm was vast and boundless, shrouded in swirling clouds and mist. As Sun Wukong flew through the skies, he found no new paths and certainly no sign of the Jade Emperor. Anxiety gnawed at him, yet he felt powerless to change his circumstances. He recalled the purpose of his journey: to seek out the Scripture of the Purple Text from the Spirit Book and discern the truth behind the New Tang. It seemed that even this heavenly domain could not be relied upon; he would have to find a way on his own.
He descended onto a desolate mountain, his mind racing with thoughts. The world had changed, the land had transformed, and even he was no longer the fearless Great Sage he once was. Five hundred years had passed, enough time to alter everything and smooth out all sharp edges.
"Wukong, have you really grown old?" he murmured to himself, a hint of confusion flickering in his eyes.
He looked up towards the horizon where the setting sun painted the sky a deep crimson, as if foretelling something ominous.
Reluctantly, he pressed down on his cloud and returned to the territory of the Great Tang. Sun Wukong pondered to himself, "I must see for myself what this New Tang is all about!" With that thought, he concealed his powers and prepared to enter the city.
The guards at the gate shouted loudly, "By order of the New Emperor, anyone dressed strangely or speaking bizarrely is to be captured and executed publicly. You monk, even if you have lost your home, you should cherish your life!" Upon hearing this, Sun Wukong clasped his hands together and replied, "What you say makes sense, indeed!" After saying this, he turned away from the city gate and transformed into a pink butterfly. He first performed Beauty’s Dance, then struck a pose reminiscent of Carrying a Pipa. In an instant, he found himself in a pavilion made of jade stones with exquisitely carved railings, landing gracefully in the grand hall.
The pavilion was surrounded by Jade Branches and Precious Leaves amidst swirling clouds and mist. The green tiles were entwined with vibrant Yunxia, creating a scene that resembled a celestial paradise—one that even immortals would find difficult to encounter, let alone discover such a hidden abode.
Heavenly cycles aligned,
Stars in harmony shine.
Clouds form Emerald Palace,
Sunlight graces Phoenix City.
A chaotic golden light filled the horizon, reminiscent of the primordial chaos that lingered when heaven and earth were first created; now it condensed upon this palace. The Yunxia shimmered in an unusual golden-red hue, swirling around like waves supporting the jade-like palace—magnificent yet eerie. The sunlight lazily cascaded down but cast an icy coldness over the resplendent palace city, devoid of life.
Standing atop his cloud, Wukong gazed at this palace and felt an odd sensation wash over him, overwhelming his senses and making him itch with restlessness.
He floated down and landed in front of a palace, where the grand entrance was adorned with the bold characters "Green Jade Palace," written in a vigorous style that exuded an imposing aura. Beside it, a smaller inscription read: "In the first year of the Flamboyant Emperor of Tang, on an auspicious day in February." The handwriting was starkly different from that of "Green Jade Palace," appearing frivolous and casual, like a child's doodle.
Wu Kong sneered inwardly; the title "Flamboyant Emperor" was indeed fitting. He pushed open the palace doors, and a wave of decay hit him. The interior was empty, save for two lines of ink written on the walls:
"Having received the mandate of Heaven for fifty autumns, the great nation seems as small as a grain of rice;
Having received the mandate for fifty years, mountains and rivers leap as stars and moons dance.
May the new emperor reign for ten thousand years, may praises from all directions proclaim his legacy.
Your humble servant Zhang Qiu sincerely wishes that your grand enterprise may endure forever."
The calligraphy was neat, but the content made Wu Kong want to retch. He recalled the five hundred years spent trapped beneath Wuxing Mountain, enduring endless torment, remembered the hypocritical faces of those gods above, and thought of the twisted truths that had been turned upside down…
"Flamboyant Emperor? Ten thousand years? Ha ha…" Wu Kong laughed skyward, his laughter filled with derision and sorrow. This heavenly realm, this mortal world, had long ceased to resemble what he remembered. That so-called "mandate" was merely a toy in the hands of the powerful.
He turned to leave the Green Jade Palace, and behind him, the two lines of ink seemed to emit mocking sounds.
As he walked on, he suddenly encountered a palace servant holding a bamboo broom. While sweeping the floor, he muttered to himself, "Ah, both the emperor and the Prime Minister have gone to bed; this Green Jade Palace has practically become a 'Sleepy Fairy Palace'! Last night, our charming sovereign held a grand banquet in the Emerald Palace at the back garden to celebrate the Nation-toppling Lady's housewarming. He drank until dawn. At the start of the feast, he even took out a Gaotang Mirror and had the Nation-toppling Lady stand on his left and Madam Xu on his right so they could all admire themselves together. The emperor praised both ladies for their beauty, and the Nation-toppling Lady returned the compliment by calling him handsome. When he turned to us palace maids, three or four hundred of us chimed in unison: 'Truly a rare beauty among men!' The emperor was delighted by this and took a big gulp of wine. After three rounds of drinks, he stood up to admire the moon and pointed at Chang'e in it, laughing: 'That is my Madam Xu.' Madam Xu then pointed at Zhi Nu and Niulang in the sky and said: 'That’s you and the Nation-toppling Lady! Although today is only March 5th, let’s celebrate Qixi in advance.' The emperor was even happier after hearing this and downed another cup. He became flushed from drinking, swaying as he walked and slurring his words until he carelessly collapsed into Madam Xu's embrace. Seeing this, the Nation-toppling Lady quickly sat up straight like a 'snow-white cushion,' allowing him to rest comfortably against her feet. Even more amusingly, one of Madam Xu's embroiderers plucked a Sea Agarwood flower and quietly placed it atop the emperor's head while smiling, turning him into a 'Drunken Flower Emperor.' Such joyful days would make even immortals envious!"
Wu Kong listened without a trace of amusement on his face. When did this palace, this world become such a sight?
The palace servant continued to chatter away, completely oblivious to Wu Kong's expression. He lowered his voice, as if speaking to himself or perhaps to Wu Kong, saying, "Let me tell you, this Nation-toppling Lady is truly a beauty beyond compare. Her beauty surpasses that of the legendary figures of old—she could make fish sink and birds fall, and even the moon and flowers would shy away in her presence. I’ve heard she was originally a dancer sent from the Western Regions as tribute. Just look at her figure and her dance moves—wow! Even the celestial maidens above cannot compare. The first time the Emperor saw her, he was utterly captivated and immediately made her his Consort, granting her residence in the Green Jade Palace, where she revels in music and dance day and night. What a life!"
As he spoke, a lewd smile crept across his face. He continued, "And then there's Madam Xu, another top-tier beauty. They say she was once a renowned courtesan from Jiangnan, skilled in all arts—music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Her voice and her gaze are simply enchanting, making it impossible for anyone to resist. The Emperor dotes on her as well, making her Consort Shu and granting her residence in the Emerald Palace, where the nights are filled with music and merriment."
The servant paused for a moment, seemingly recalling something that made him envious. "Among the three thousand beauties in the harem, these two are the most favored. Just think about it—such glory and wealth to enjoy endlessly! Who would care about the mundane affairs of common folk? Who wouldn’t want to live like a deity?"
"But I ponder," he continued, "there have been many emperors throughout history, many charming rulers as well. Yet here we are today—the palaces are gone, the beauties are gone, and so is the emperor! Let’s not even mention the Qin and Han dynasties; just look at my late sovereign—he reached middle age and sought pleasure by building the Pearl Rain Pavilion. That structure was grand and elegant, adorned with white jade bricks and surrounded by intricately carved windows. To the north was a circular Frost Cave that offered views of sunrises and sunsets over the sea; below were steps made of purple sandalwood intricately inlaid with gold filigree. Back then, that stage was filled with beautiful women dressed in vibrant attire; the sound of silk bamboo music was endless, captivating all who heard it. But what about now? Yesterday, the lady summoned me to clean in the East Garden. Standing by the low wall, I looked over at the Pearl Rain Pavilion—it’s now overrun with weeds and mist; three thousand glazed tiles lie shattered; the beams carved with dragon and floral patterns have collapsed in disarray. Strangely enough, even in broad daylight, there were ghostly lights flickering beneath a tree by the well. I looked carefully for a long time but saw no singers or dancers—only a few cuckoos calling out in alternating tones as if mourning this desolate spring rain. It seems that whether one is an emperor or a commoner, they all meet the same end; whether one is an imperial consort or a village girl, they all turn to dust in the end." The servant's voice carried a heavy sense of despair that echoed through the empty palace halls as if trying to stain all that gold and jade with decay.
Wu Kong listened with amusement. These mortals were so fixated on such ephemeral things—power and beauty—only to find it all amounts to nothing in the end. After living for so many years and witnessing countless emperors and talented individuals, he knew they all eventually turned to dust and vanished from this world.
The servant continued his rambling: "Last year on the Lantern Festival, a Daoist named Song Luo came to the palace. This priest had some knowledge worth noting. He said our current emperor is quite indulgent and loves beautiful women depicted in paintings more than anything else. So he presented a painting called 'Li Mountain Painting.' When the emperor saw it, he asked, 'Is Li Mountain still standing?' The priest replied, 'Li Mountain has lost some of its lifespan; it has only been around for about two thousand years.' The emperor laughed heartily at this: 'Two thousand years is quite long enough.' But then that priest shook his head and said: 'Unfortunately, it's not complete—the Li Mountain built by man lasts only two hundred years; what people talk about regarding Li Mountain lasts merely four hundred years; what is painted lasts five hundred years; as for what is recorded in history books—it can last nine hundred years. Adding them all together barely makes up two thousand years.' I happened to be on duty that day standing right before him; I heard every word clearly. Unfortunately, it's been over a year since then, and I've gradually forgotten most of it. A few days ago, I met an erudite palace servant who casually mentioned this matter again—I suddenly realized that what was depicted in that 'Li Mountain Painting' was actually constructed using the Mountain-Driving Bell for the Mausoleum of Qin Shi Huang!" While speaking, he continued sweeping diligently as if this repetitive action could bring him some solace.
Coincidentally, The Wanderer overheard the words "Mountain-Driving Bell" and pondered silently: "How does one drive mountains? If I could obtain this precious bell, whenever I encounter mountains occupied by demons or spirits in the future, I could simply drive them away without any fighting—how splendid would that be!" This monkey felt an itch of impatience rising within him; he immediately thought of disguising himself as an official to inquire about the origins of this Mountain-Driving Bell. However, before he could utter a word, he suddenly heard drums and music resounding throughout the palace—a grand spectacle unfolding without any knowledge of what was happening.
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