Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 3 2018 | Page 207

New Journey to the West
Po Leung Kuk Choi Kai Yau, Li, Yau - 13
“S
earch for your dream.” That was what my painting master Xuanzang told me. I was on the
quest set by Xuanzang with my protector Sha-wujing. I had to find the “Legend of Art”. It
was a long journey through deserts, oasis, mountains and plains. “Remember, never, fear,
never give up.” my master said, before I left the monastery.
I painted as I continued the journey. The view of the desert was so beauteous and hypnotizing. The sky
above looked like strokes of water colour, with patches of red and blue and at some point they joined to
form a shade of violet and purple. The gold-plated sphere lying on the cotton collage-looking sky
illuminated the sand underneath. The sand dunes that looked like folds of perfectly smooth silk cloth on the
huge ocean of ochre yellow sand made it more flawless. Despite the scorching heat that penetrated my skin,
I painted with joy, with precision, with perfection. Quite satisfied with my first piece, I walked on, up and
down, painting as I admired the panorama.
After journeying for more than a year, I had never enjoyed a meal that was especially appetizing. That day, I
met a talking pig, called Zhu-Bajie and he brought us to where he lived- the Wuzhuang Temple on the
Longevity Mountain. It was a place of greenery. He persuaded me to stay as there was everything he could
imagine in the mountain. He also believed that the “Legend of Art” was hidden somewhere in his place. To
welcome his guest, he gave me two ginseng fruits that looked like small babies. They looked so attractive
that I was already salivating as if there was a waterfall on my lips. “But my master is a monk and he told me
never to eat kids.” I told him. “No. No. These are ginseng fruits. They take 9,000 years to mature. You can
live for 47,000 years if you eat them!” He exclaimed eagerly. I was struggling to decide whether to eat them
or not. Was it a trick? Or was it a gift? I took it as a gift finally. The fruit was sweet, juicy and soft on my
tongue, grainy like sugary sand dissolving in my mouth. Strangely, it got the irresistible power of keeping us
to eat non-stop, just like a magnet. At that moment, I didn't want to leave this heaven-like place where I
was immersed in all the fun. For the next two years, I stayed and enjoyed the luxury, solely because of the
ginseng fruits. But one night, I dreamed of my painting master and he foresaw a storm in the oasis that
would destroy everything. I had a bad headache that night. I realized it was time for me to leave and I had
to warn Zhu-bajie, too.
The next day, Zhu-bajie, Shu-wujing and I fled the mountain and continued eastwards back into the
desert. Just then, I saw the horizon growing red. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, this red chaos turned
into a full fury of a sandstorm, a full-blown assault. We ducked down, but some of my paintings swirled
into the storm. It seemed as the whole surface of the desert was rising in obedience to some upthrusting
force from beneath. The spray of dancing sand grains climbed over us till it stroke our faces. The sky was
shut out, the universe was filled with hurtling, pelting and stinging torment…...It was as though some great
monsters of fabled size and unearthly power were puffing out these hurtling blasts of sand upon us. The
sound was as if a giant hand drawing the rough fingers in a regular rhythm across the tightly stretched silk. I
gripped on hard. Slowly, the sand storm calmed, but all my paintings were blown away. I really wanted to
give up, but Shu-wujing insisted and so we did. The shrinking of Zhi-bajie had proved how harsh the
journey was as we came closer to the West.