The quarrel had swelled like an unstoppable wave. The two monkeys, planted in the middle of the crowd, hurled fierce cries and angry gestures over a single shriveled nut. Each grabbed at the other's scruffy collar.
The troop shouted even louder, taking sides, shoving each other. The uproar shattered the scene.
On the ground, the baby monkey, who had quietly snatched the famous nut to eat it, had slipped away to hide behind his reassuring father.
The Monkey King, dragged to the center of the chaos despite himself, felt the pressure mounting like never before. His throat was dry. His tail beat the ground at lightning speed. He searched for words, mumbling a compromise drowned out by the racket.
"You don't know what to say!"
"Speak up!"
"You're not a real King then!"
The shouts rained down. The crowd closed in, every face distorted by expectation or anger. He looked for Houzi, but saw only shifting shadows, indifferent to his panic.
For the first time, he found neither strength nor boldness. He felt tiny, alone, swallowed by the weight of what everyone expected from him.
He wanted to speak, but no sound came after his first stammer. Everything he'd built so far suddenly felt fragile.
Houzi watched from the edge of the crowd, sitting on a twisted root, arms crossed on his chest. He'd sensed the crisis rising, saw the feverish eyes, heard the clamor closing in around the little King. He knew, from experience, that sometimes you had to let the tension climb until it broke on its own.
He watched the young king, noting every gesture — the frantic tail, the hunched back, the gaze desperately searching for rescue. Houzi showed nothing, but deep down, he felt the pinch of empathy.
He could have intervened earlier, scattered the mob with a growl, but he waited.
He wanted the boy to truly feel the weight of the crown. He wanted the crowd to realize what they demanded of a leader. The lesson needed to mark not just the King, but the whole clan.
So he let the silence settle after the storm. Panic surged, then emptiness. A few suspended moments where nothing moved forward. Houzi knew: it's in this hollow that a true guide can change the course of things.
At last, he rose. Slowly. No one saw him at first, then, gradually, the mass parted in his wake. A broad, steady hand came to rest on the King's trembling shoulder.
In a calm tone, without raising his voice, Houzi imposed silence. Every eye turned to him. He alone kept a quiet serenity, almost a warmth in his gaze.
"That's enough, he said simply. I think we've forgotten why we live together."
He let his words linger, so each one felt their weight.
Silence fell, fragile at first, then complete. Houzi fixed his gaze on the two brawlers, who dropped their eyes, suddenly sheepish. He looked at everyone: each waited for the verdict, holding their breath.
"This nut, Houzi said, hasn't fed many… But it's shown us just how foolish we can become for a single bite. We don't live together to steal or fight."
He leaned toward the two monkeys:
"Come on, now. You'll share better next time. For today, it's the little baby who won, without even meaning to."
Some embarrassed laughter rippled through the group. The tension faded. Houzi signaled for everyone to return to their business. The monkeys scattered, some still grumbling, others relieved.
Houzi kept the Monkey King close. They slipped away a bit, finding an unexpected calm after the storm.
"You thought you had to fix everything alone, didn't you? Houzi said softly."
The Monkey King nodded, still shaken. He hesitated:
"I… I was scared. I didn't know what to say. I was ashamed…"
Houzi placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Listen closely, little King. No one is born a leader. You only learn by making mistakes. Fear, shame — they're normal… What matters is staying attentive, not letting anger or panic make every decision."
The Monkey King bit his lip, but a faint smile appeared. He felt the weight on his shoulders a little lighter.
"Thank you, he whispered."
"You'll learn. By living together, by stumbling, you'll become a true King. But never forget: a leader isn't the one who shouts the loudest, but the one who listens most, who stands firm even in the deepest silence."
They stayed side by side, in silence, watching the clan slip back into its usual bustle.
The seasons swept by, indifferent to yesterday's quarrels. The sun came and went, the rain washed the mountain, the cold drew the circle tighter around the fires, then life started over again, always the same, never quite the same.
Year after year, the Monkey King grew more confident. He learned to listen first, then to speak — and his words rarely missed the mark.
Twenty long years, and the Monkey King had not changed a single hair.
Even if he never quite gained the presence Houzi once spoke of. He settled disputes with a look, or a gesture, never raising his voice: the troop moved to his rhythm, trust deepening with time.
The elders came to seek his advice, the youngest mimicked his faces. They called him "King" without hesitation, and even Houzi, now aged, still watched him with discreet pride.
The clan prospered, and the stone house rang with the sounds of games, soothed arguments, stories told by the glow of the fire.
But sometimes, under the cold light of clear nights, the Monkey King stood still in the middle of the iron bridge swaying in the wind, his gaze lost on the walls of the open cave. He listened to the mountain breathe around him… and felt, somehow, that the world was not limited to this island.
He felt an emptiness, a longing, an indescribable urge for something beyond the borders of this paradise, but without great challenges.
One cloudless night, almost midnight blue, spangled with bright stars like distant promises. On the rocky promontory, Houzi and the Monkey King sat back to back, wordless, their eyes lifted to the vast sky.
The silence was dense, filled only by the mountain's soft breathing and the whisper of the breeze. Each seemed lost in thought, but their mingled fur told of a bond stronger than words.
For a long time, the Monkey King said nothing. He felt in his chest that emptiness, growing as the clan settled into routine. Tonight, he couldn't hold it in.
"Tell me, Paa… do you think there's something… out there? he finally asked, his voice hoarse."
The old mentor smiled, unseen. His body was weaker now, slower, whiter as the years passed.
"Out where? Beyond the mountain? The ocean? Or just beyond what we think is our place?"
The Monkey King hesitated.
"I… I don't know. Sometimes I feel like… there's something bigger. Something calling me."
"But you have everything here, don't you?"
"Yes… and no. I'm happy, but… I want to see the world, to understand what's on the other side of the seas. He stopped, almost ashamed of this desire."
Houzi laughed softly, a gentle warmth in his voice.
"One day, you'll leave, little King. It's in your nature. No leader, no son, stays forever by his old mentor."
Silence stretched out again. The Monkey King felt a lump in his throat.
"But if I go… will you be here?"
Houzi looked away, suddenly grave.
"I long believed my role was to watch over the clan. But now, I think the best thing is to see a student, a son, set out into the world."
"I want to stay a little longer, whispered the Monkey King. Stay, as long as you're here."
The old monkey laid a comforting paw on his back.
"Stay, then. As long as you wish. But know this: no one escapes time, not even the wise. One day, you'll have to follow your own path."
The young king didn't answer. They both gazed at the stars, a little closer, a little farther away.
In that silence, the promise of elsewhere grew, but childhood lingered, fragile and stubborn, clinging to Houzi's old fur.
An innocence still unaware that every life in this world must one day come to an end, following the natural order of things.
Abel Maria : Royal Road & Webnovel