Chapter Five: The Monkey Speaks Human Words, Revealing Its True Nature

A sudden commotion swept over the farmstead with the unexpected appearance of a monkey dressed in human clothes, walking upright on two legs, its figure far larger than any ordinary monkey. Today, the farm was livelier than ever.

A few regulars from the film crew, habitual visitors, had stopped by for lunch. Perhaps they had just wrapped up a shoot, for they had not yet changed out of their costumes, wandering about the farm in their theatrical garb—a sight so common no one thought twice about it. The locals, too, had long grown accustomed to such peculiarities.

But now, with the arrival of a monkey dressed and comporting itself with the same air as the humans, people simply assumed it belonged to a film crew or was some cosplayer’s playful creation—nothing out of the ordinary. Yet this was no ordinary monkey.

At dawn, Chu Xiaoyu had earnestly instructed the monkey not to utter a word of human speech in front of others, warning that it would frighten everyone out of their wits. Sun Wukong nodded solemnly, vowing never to slip up—after all, the command had come from a true immortal; how could he disobey?

And so, when such regulars as “Feng Sanniang,” “Tian Ji,” “Four Eyes,” and “Toad” came for a meal, the monkey behaved with utmost decorum. He was, after all, a monkey—if he kept his mouth shut and refrained from walking upright, he would have been indistinguishable from any other.

But a monkey clad in a yellow robe—how incongruous!

“Little Fish, where did you get such a big, imposing monkey all of a sudden?” asked Feng Sanniang after a satisfying meal, sipping her tea, her sharp eyes fixed on Chu Xiaoyu.

“Oh, it’s from some crew. They asked me to look after it for a few days,” Chu Xiaoyu replied, feigning nonchalance.

Feng Sanniang’s real name was Liu Yu, but after being cast as the character Feng Sanniang in a script, she’d taken a liking to the name, and over time, everyone began calling her that. “Tian Ji,” “Four Eyes,” “Toad”—all had earned their monikers the same way, named after the roles they’d played, and the nicknames stuck.

Life as an extra was harsh; they flitted from one production to another, always chasing the next opportunity. Money was scarce, but in their wandering, they’d found friends with similar interests.

Their eyes kept drifting to the monkey, and suddenly, they realized something uncanny—the monkey seemed almost human in its bearing and expression. Could it be a cosplayer in disguise, there to amuse them?

“Hey, the more I look at that monkey, the less it seems like a monkey,” Tian Ji muttered, lips pursed in suspicion. “It’s… almost like a person.”

Four Eyes chimed in, “Exactly! Is that really a monkey? It just doesn’t look the part.”

Toad added, “What if we had this monkey play Sun Wukong in ‘Havoc in Heaven’? Wouldn’t it be even more convincing than that famous actor?”

At that moment, the monkey, imitating Chu Xiaoyu, was carrying plates when he overheard their conversation.

Suddenly, the monkey could no longer restrain himself. With a leap, he sprang forward, and to everyone’s shock, he spoke in a human voice: “Were you just talking about Sun Wukong from ‘Havoc in Heaven’? Were you talking about me? ‘Havoc in Heaven,’ you say? Ha! How amusing! I, Old Sun, quite like it!”

He thought of the lofty heavens, where those arrogant immortals looked down on all creatures as nothing. One day, he would trample their smug faces into the dust and have them grovel and beg for mercy.

He grew more excited by the moment, rolling about the floor in delight.

Everyone was struck dumb, frozen in disbelief.

Wait—what just happened?

Did the monkey just speak?

An animal, speaking like a man?

Thunderstruck!

A real monster!

“I—I can’t take it! I’m fainting!”

“Me too!”

The sudden shock was too much for anyone to bear.

“Boss… what is that thing? Is it really a monkey? How can a monkey talk like a person? I’m going to faint…”

Thud! Thud! Thud!

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck the crowded room, leaving everyone dazed and senseless.

Realizing his blunder, the monkey bolted from the scene in a flash.

Alas! What a troublemaking rascal!

Chu Xiaoyu could only shake his head.

As evening descended, Chu Xiaoyu noticed the purple mist around the farmstead had grown denser—so thick that one could not see their hand before their face.

What was happening? Could this be that “Purple Qi from the East” the old Daoist spoke of?

Chu Xiaoyu lit a cigarette and smoked deeply, his brow furrowed in thought.

After being gone for half the day, the monkey finally returned, slinking back with his head hung low, looking both terrified and confused.

Suddenly, with a heavy thud, the monkey knelt before Chu Xiaoyu. “I beg the immortal’s punishment. This disciple knows his mistake. The immortal’s enchantment is so formidable—I only wished to step outside and see the world, but no matter how I tried, I could not leave the grounds. I… I know I was wrong.”

The monkey’s confession left Chu Xiaoyu astounded. So that purple mist was a natural barrier—a gateway of sorts? When the mist thickened, those within could not leave, and outsiders could not enter. Was that how it worked?

Chu Xiaoyu recalled the strange happenings of the past. Whenever the mist was at its densest, the farmstead would be devoid of guests. But perhaps it wasn’t that there were no guests—perhaps, even if someone tried to enter, they simply couldn’t.

No wonder some had complained that Chu Xiaoyu’s farm was odd, that he refused to serve customers and even drove them away. He’d been baffled at the time, but hadn’t thought much of it. Now it all made sense.

It wasn’t that he turned away guests. When the purple mist was at its thickest, something strange was bound to occur, and no matter how people tried, they could not find their way in, like being caught in a phantom maze.

All the bizarre events had been leading up to what happened today. The ghostly gateway in the back garden, the sudden appearance of the monkey—together, they explained everything.

Whether it was a gate through time and space or some immortal passage opened by spirits, it could not be a bad thing.

Sun Wukong remained kneeling on the ground, not daring to breathe, but Chu Xiaoyu stayed silent.

The immortal had warned: never speak a word of human tongue before others. If not for the mention of “Sun Wukong raising havoc in Heaven,” he would never have lost his composure.

“Immortal! I truly did not mean it! This disciple knows his fault and begs your punishment.”

With the immortal unmoved, all he could do was admit his mistake and hope the penalty would not be too severe.

The monkey’s heart was filled with dread and uncertainty.