Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 1-2 | Page 363

The road there was tiring and full of pain and sweat, but that is a story for another time. I was planning on
taking the main route off Kumul to Turpan, then cross some barren lands to India. The imperial guards of
Kumul thwarted my plan by standing in the middle of the main road, blocking the way, as travel was
banned in Kumul as well. I was forced to follow the Tian Shan mountains into Turpan, because there was
no other way to get to my destination without bumping into the imperial guards.
I head off, knowing this was going to be a long journey.
Five months later, in a place near Middle East Turpan......
I...I can't keep up any longer. It's b-been se-seven months, and I've barely even started off middle-east
Turpan for India. No. I had to keep going. This quest was for me. For my fellow Buddhists. For Chang'an.
For the Big Buddha himself. For Buddhism!
I had almost reached India when I heard a screeching sound, similar to that of a monkey, but before I could
head in that direction, a strong wind pushed me towards the bridge to the desert, and I forgot all about the
monkey in the woods and stepped onto the wobbly bridge.
Seven months later......
After reaching India, I headed to Vulture peak, and sitting on a white marble chair, was the legendary monk
Lizong himself. He was meditating with his eyes closed, but I knew he sensed my presence. He smiled at
me, and I smiled back. I knew this was going to be a fun experience.
To be continued…