Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 220

was in control of all this. On the part choosing the warriors, they play a trick and asked Bajie to be the
frontier, and in exchange, he would be awarded a job in the palace so that they would no longer need to
struggle on their own.
***
So here they were, Sun at one side of the river while the other groups of the army on the other hand.
"Hey, man," said Bajie dresses in fancy armor with a cigarette in his mouse, "you got a light?" He had
been treated well. This gave him an incentive to kill Sun to remain such a life.
"You're not after a light," Sun said, and they all laughed.
"You are still as numb as the time I left you." Bajie shook his head in pity. "Don't blame me for today,
blame yourself for standing on the wrong side and angering the wrong people."
Sun faced his opponent and waited. He would let Bajie make the first move. However, Bajie didn't
move, a man in heavy armor stepped out and ready to attack.
Don't lose don't lose don't lose.
The announcer in his head retreated with an appreciative wink. The buzzer sounded.
The big guy moved.
Sun jerked back. The blow meant for his jaw whizzed by in a blur of knuckles. From the corner of his
eye, he saw his opponent's other arm begin an upward trajectory. He ducked this time and felt his hair ruffle
with the force of it.
Drop to the floor. Roll clear, stand. Don't let him connect. Draw it out.
The big guy charged with a roar like a bull. Sun sidestepped, whirled to face him. His opponent lunged.
He avoided one flying fist, only to collide with another.
The blow glanced off his ribcage, a sharp sting fading fast. In front of him, the big guy grinned and
jabbed again at his midsection.
Block. Shove away. Back off.
Avoidance was simple, but it couldn't last forever. Sun felt pressure emanating from all sides, a nearly
audible chant:
punch-kick-strike-hurt.
Sun went on the offensive. He lashed out, aiming for his opponent's gut. The big guy proved equally
effective at defense, and Sun's fist met a meaty forearm. He tried again with both hands and this time
connected.
It felt like punching flesh-covered steel.
The fight was done.
Sun jerked back and panted heavily. The big guy lay on the ground, not moving. Sun doesn't know
whether he's alive or not. Bajie waved another man forward, ready for another round of the fight.
I can't do it. Sun moaned. He didn't think he can withstand a second round. The only way to escape, he
looked down to the river in between, is to jump into this river he was not familiar with.
He looked back to gazed Bajie one last time and jumped into the turbulent river. Before he fainted, he
saw the blurry image of blue mockingbird who disappeared in between the branches.
***
There were many rumors about the young monkey king Sun Wukong; some said that he drowned after
angered Rulai Buddha.
Some said that after he jumped into the river, he floated to the forest and lived with other monkeys for
the rest of his life.
Others said he turned into a stone at the edge of a cliff because of great despair. The monkey shape stone
can still be seen on the yellow mountain. The stone monkey holds his knees, sits on the bluff, looks in the
distance, seems to expect something, seems to be thinking about what.
In the twilight of the sunset, his showdown is bleak. Slowly, he faded into the light and shattered into a
dark blue mockingbird with white belly.