The forest air still clung to Ming's robes as he climbed the familiar slope of the mountain. His steps were steady, the cool night breeze brushing against his skin. The sounds of the forest had begun to fade behind him—rustling leaves, distant calls of nocturnal birds—replaced by the quiet hum of his own mountain. A silence he knew well, comforting and heavy at the same time.
The stream he had left behind still lingered in his thoughts, its water reflecting more than his face. He had seen something within himself there, a glimpse of understanding, though incomplete. He had learned about the harshness of nature—the strong preying upon the weak, the weak upon the weaker. That realization still pressed on his heart, but he carried it without fear. It was simply truth. Just as the forest had its law, so too did the world beyond.
And now, as his feet touched the stone steps near his home, that truth seemed to whisper again. But this time, it wasn't the forest that showed him—something else was waiting.
Ming slowed, his eyes narrowing.
There, sitting in front of his modest wooden house, was a monkey. Small, with a lean body covered in soft brown fur. At first glance, it seemed ordinary. Nothing strange at all—just another creature from the mountains.
But Ming froze.
The monkey wasn't moving about like any normal monkey would. It wasn't busy climbing trees, rummaging for food, or scratching itself carelessly. Instead, it sat calmly, its small figure upright, and its bright brown eyes locked directly onto Ming.
The gaze wasn't the gaze of an animal. It was steady, unblinking, and strangely deliberate. As though it had been waiting.
Ming felt a shiver crawl up his back. He had seen countless monkeys before, both in the forests and along mountain paths. Never once had he felt such a thing. This wasn't instinct. This wasn't fear. This was… something else.
He tightened his jaw, cautious yet intrigued.
What is this creature? Why do I feel… watched?
The Playful Display
Before Ming could act, the monkey suddenly moved. It leapt effortlessly from the ground onto the roof of his house, then flipped backward to land on a nearby branch. From there, it spun in circles, swinging on vines, climbing higher and higher until it was perched on a rock ledge. Then, as if to mock the very laws of balance, it leaned forward, balancing on just one hand, grinning the whole time.
Ming's eyes followed the movements sharply.
"This monkey…" he muttered under his breath.
It wasn't the movements themselves—monkeys were agile, yes—but the intention. Every flip, every jump, every swing seemed designed to show off. It wasn't random. It was as though the little creature was putting on a performance… for him.
Then came the final act.
The monkey landed back in front of him, crouched low, and mimicked Ming's own cultivation stance. Feet apart, hands folded, eyes closed in mock seriousness.
But the little thing exaggerated every detail, puffing up its chest ridiculously and crossing its eyes as if to say, look at me, I am Master Ming, great cultivator!
Ming's lips twitched. Irritation and an odd sense of respect tangled inside him.
The silence broke.
The monkey tilted its head and let out a series of high-pitched sounds—keek, kik-kik, kaa!
Ming stiffened. Normally, he would have ignored it. Monkey chatter was just noise. Yet, somehow… the meaning slipped into his mind, as though translated by something he didn't understand.
> "So, this is your house, huh? Nice place. I think I'll stay."
Ming's eyes widened. He blinked hard, trying to shake off the illusion. But no—the monkey had not spoken human words. Yet his ears, his mind, had grasped the message as clear as day.
Impossible. Why can I… understand?
The monkey grinned wider, clearly pleased by Ming's confusion.
Ming stepped forward, drawing in a steadying breath. His voice firm, controlled:
"This is my hou—"
He didn't finish.
The monkey suddenly raised its hand and cut him off with a sharp chatter, eyes sparkling mischievously.
> "If you don't want me to stay in this mountain, I have no option but to leave," it said, tone dripping with false sorrow. Then, with a shameless grin, it added, "But don't worry, tomorrow morning I'll come back with thousands of monkeys. Together we'll take over this mountain. Okay?"
Ming's jaw clenched. His body froze.
The little monkey's grin widened, teeth flashing like a child proud of its prank.
Ming inhaled, steadying himself.
"You—" he began, but the monkey hopped sideways, cutting him off again.
> "What? Afraid already? Don't worry, I'm very well-behaved. I won't cause any trouble. Unless, of course, you make me leave. Then I might have no choice but to cause a little… chaos."
Its tone was sing-song, teasing, but every word pierced deeper than blades.
Ming's brows furrowed. Irritation simmered beneath his calm face. He was not a man easily angered. Yet this monkey—this shameless little creature—somehow pushed him to the edge with nothing more than words.
Why am I even arguing with a monkey? he thought, bewildered.
The monkey tilted its head, pretending innocence.
> "Say it directly if you want me gone! Or… are you scared?"
That grin again. Shameless. Untouchable.
Ming pressed his lips together, silent.
Inside, confusion churned. Why can I hear it? Why do I understand it? He had seen other monkeys countless times. Their cries had always been just that—cries. Yet this one… his ears understood, his mind translated, as if it was the most natural thing.
Was this fate? A trial left by his teacher? Or had he gone mad after too much solitude?
But no matter how he questioned, the monkey's words left no time to think. Every sentence was another jab, another twist, shamelessly dragging him into a battle he couldn't win.
And the strangest part… he didn't feel anger. Not truly. He felt… something else. Something unexplainable.
Finally, Ming let out a breath. His shoulders eased, and he said slowly,
"Stay. But don't cause trouble."
The monkey blinked. Then its face lit up with pure mischief.
It leapt into the air, spun around twice, and landed with its arms raised like a victorious warrior.
> "Excellent! I knew you were a good person. Don't worry, I'm the most disciplined monkey you'll ever meet."
Ming pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't believe a word of that.
But… strangely, he didn't feel regret either.
As the monkey danced circles around him, humming nonsense and chattering playfully, Ming turned toward his house. He felt defeated, yes—but also, a peculiar calmness settled in his chest.
He had lost the battle of words, utterly. But for reasons he couldn't name, he didn't resent it.
Why do I feel as though this creature… is already family?
When he asked his teacher in the past about fate, about companions, he was often met with silence. And now, faced with this shameless monkey, there was still silence—but a different kind.
Ming shook his head, half sighing, half smiling. He washed himself, cleaned the mountain grounds as was his routine, and then lay down to rest.
The monkey didn't stop chattering, circling, teasing. But Ming didn't care anymore.
Eyes closing, he let the sounds drift into the night.
And for the first time in a long while, the mountain felt less lonely.