Published: March 30th 2025, 9:57:10 pm
Orange-crest awoke in darkness.
He blinked, noting how very little it changed what he saw. That should not be surprising. He usually woke in darkness. Night was long in the depths of winter. Only the most slovenly monkeys did not either wake before or retire after the sun. Orange-crest usually did both!
But even in winter, the darkness was never so perfect as this.
Was he in a cave?
Carefully, he pawed around. Rough rock. Smooth rock. Was that... wood? Not smooth, with the telltale stickiness of human lacquer-work, nor the comforting texture of tree bark. Old wood, like human construction abandoned to the elements. Dry and smooth, with deep pits and whorls where parts of the grain had worn away entirely.
He kept feeling around in the dark. He found what he was certain were furniture, overturned tables and chairs. He felt the cool smoothness of glass, vessels both sealed and empty. Some of clay as well, heavy and sloshing.
A workshop like his brother's? One long abandoned? It seemed as good a guess as any.
Being a practical monkey, orange-crest first sought egress. Or light. But those things usually came together. Gingerly, he blundered through the darkness and the clutter until he found a wall. Setting a hand to it, he began to follow the wall, feeling for any gaps that might be a door or tunnel.
And at this point, neither option would have surprised him. The cave, and he was sure it was a cave, was filled with human detritus. Parts of it had old worn wooden floors. But the wall was stone, curving gently toward him as it rose, suggesting a ceiling no more than two or three orange-crests high.
A half-furnished cave, in long disrepair?
Orange-crest let out a hissing breath, as something cracked beneath his foot. He felt around with his toes. Bones, medium ones. A ribcage, nearly monkey sized. No flesh, but still stiff and hard. A corpse of an age measured in seasons, not days or years. His fur rose on end, as he realized this strange dark place must be inhabited.
All living things had to eat, after all. And this one ate things roughly his size.
What abomination would call a space like this home? A human would not abide the darkness and decay. An animal of surpassing queerness might collect such detritus, but it would not build wooden floors in a cave. Orange-crest wasn't sure he could do that, if he put his mind to it, and he both had thumbs and knew the tools of man.
What did that leave? A human, fallen to strange madness? A beast squatting in a man's former lair?
Nope.
Neither of those seemed promising. He was going to sneak right out of here.
The wall turned, chipped stone opening into an emptier room, or wide tunnel. The monkey followed, stepping carefully as a thief.
Orange-crest kept walking, until he saw a light in the distance. Steady, like sunlight, but shifting as if swinging side to side. The monkey pressed himself tightly to the wall, watching. The light-bearer should be fire-blind, orange-crest would see him first. He could decide whether to flee after he caught a glimpse.
As the gentle glow approached, orange-crest saw a human youth at the center of it.
The initiates of the sect, the ones who had joined in the same year as orange-crest, were of varied ages. Some were nigh grown, broad of shoulder and sparse of hair. Past their twentieth winter. Most were younger. Still showing traces of their smaller, nigh-hairless, child-shapes. Between fourteen and eighteen winters, a period in time in which humans grew tremendously in size and girth. The initiates of the sect were almost as varied in form as the monkey's of Mount Yuelu.
Orange-crest reckoned them as roughly his peers in age among men. Monkeys aged thrice as fast as men apparently. That seemed correct to him. Monkeys were roughly three times as good as men at many things.
This human was younger still. As child-like as the very smallest of initiates. Twelve? Thirteen? Human children were difficult to pin down, he'd seen so few of them.
But, despite his youth, he carried himself like a daoist. Back straight, eyes ahead. One hand held a lantern, cool golden light emanating from behind its paper walls. The other was held behind his back as he walked. Orange-crest couldn't help but think the child looked like he was preening before an invisible audience.
The young man wore a robe of clean white, shot with sweeping slashes of fire-red and sun-gold. A pretty sky-blue belt tied the outfit together. His hair however, was the most impressive. As brilliant as orange-crest's own, with a style to match. It rose into one of those strange top-knots some humans favored, before falling back around his shoulders like a curtain of molten metal.
Orange-crest liked the look. The very young man had a good sense of style.
As violent as they could be, humans didn't seem to eat monkeys. Or leave ribcages lying around in their lairs. They were fastidious creatures like that. Between the young man, and wandering about in the darkness, he'd risk the man.
Orange-crest peeled himself off the wall, stepping forward to be seen.
"Hello little human." He greeted in a quiet voice.
"I am taller than you." The very young man replied loudly.
"Shh! Is predator-cave." Orange-crest hissed. "Monkey-eater. Little-man eater. Don't prick its ears."
"Don't worry, the other one hardly knows the idea of urgency. It won't come for us until the time is right."
The man's voice was still far too loud. Orange-crest flailed his paws wildly at him, running through the many universal gestures for 'shush'. Stupid arrogant humans. Always thought bad things only happened to other animals.
"Better if not come for us at all! Need to get out of here." The monkey retorted.
The young man sighed, as if orange-crest was the one being unreasonable.
"Walk with me, little one." He said, his volume finally a reasonable whisper.
"You're little one too." Orange-crest shot back mulishly. He knew how men worked. This one was hardly old enough to leave home unaccompanied. He was a grown monkey on a strange mountain, this little baby shouldn't try to act his senior.
"I suppose all of us are young, compared to the immortals."
"Everybody baby compared to Monkey King, doesn't mean baby is the same as big-butt." Orange-crest shot back. He paused, thinking. "Who are you?"
"I suppose you can could me Hou."
Man's word for monkey. This man, this whole situation, was more than a little suspicious. But orange-crest just couldn't quite put his fingers on how. No matter how he turned the facts of this strange day over, his mind kept coming up without an explanation to tie them together.
"No good. Confusing." Orange-crest replied. "I am Li Hou. You can be something else."
"Oh? I can be anything at all? Then you may call me Shan Xing Tian Shi."
That was far too long for a name. Goodly being of heaven? Very arrogant. That made fitting tracks with his previous actions, walking loudly where the wise should creep.
"Okay, Shan."
Shan clicked his tongue.
"Good enough, I suppose."
They walked together in silence, orange-crest creeping in Shan's wake as he strode without fear, his lantern marking him as prey for all with eyes to see.
"Where are we going?" The monkey eventually asked. They were at least walking away from the bones, so he was content to follow for now.
Shan hummed.
"It's not a question of where, really. Not in here. One direction is much the same as another. All that matters is whether we move forward, or stand still."
"That is not how directions work."
"You are very confident in that, for someone who has not yet realized who I am, or where you are."
Ah. Admission. There was something very wrong here. Orange-crest knew he shouldn't be here. But he couldn't remember why he knew that, or where here could be. What could he trust, if he could no longer trust his memories?
"Tell me," Shan said, reaching into a pocket. "Do you know what this is?"
In his hand rested a small stone. No, a piece of ore, from the sheen. It looked familiar.
"Men would call it a Tear of Stone. Sometimes, the earth bears witness to a tragedy. Often, this gives rise to Guai. Lumbering creatures of terrible power and singular purpose, singularly devoted to their long vigils. But stone is heavy, and ill-disposed to motion. Sometimes, instead of rising up in wrath, the earth sheds a single tear, before returning to slumber. A piece of ore or crystal, imbued with the weight of a loss unwitnessed even by Heaven."
"How is that important now?"
"Your master was clever," Shan continued as if orange-crest hadn't spoken. "To transform such a thing into a treatment for bodily refinement. A true beast might have consumed it, adapted to its nature. Yet it would have been a slow and fraught process, a dangerous journey of years. But for the arts of men, such a thing more suited for refinement into a tool or weapon. Men do not easily tolerate such foreign powers. Such a grief is too heavy for them to take into themselves and remain capable of motion."
"Not master. Brother." Orange-crest insisted on reflex. Wait, who was he talking about?
"Your denial does not change the truth."
"Your denial does not change the truth." Orange-crest repeated back at him. That knife cut two ways. "How do you know all this?"
Shan smiled, pocketing the Tear of Stone.
"You could know as I do. Understand, as I do. Take your rightful place in glory. Like every road, it all begins with a choice. A single step."
Orange-crest stopped as Shan continued moving. The light of his lantern dimmed. No, the dark pressed in, driving back the light until it only extended a single pace around the young man. The ground that had seemed so sure a moment ago vanished into the void, leaving a blind gulf between them. Orange-crest stared at the stylish child with new eyes. It wanted something from him.
Orange-crest remembered. Twice now, he had drowned. The weight and the terror. Drowning on land, in waters hot and furious, instead of cold and still. His brother's frantic cries. Daoist Enduring Oath's knowing, sorrowful, eyes.
"The bath. I never left it."
"In a way. The spent waters have long since been drained away, but they were never the part that mattered."
"What do you want?" Orange-crest asked. He still had no idea what was going on, but if he was still somehow trapped in the bath, that didn't change anything. His first priority was escape. If this little human stood in his way, orange-crest would go through him.
Shan ignored his question.
"Many human cultivators consider tribulation a punishment. Heaven's wrath, levied against them. They raise fist and blade against lightning, and call it transcendence. As if the order of the world can be defied by the edge of a sword."
Orange-crest's fists tightened. This mad excursion had been terrifying since the start, but it was beginning to become tiresome as well.
"It is not a conversation if you ignore me and say nonsense."
"I promise, I am coming to a point. The only point that matters here. Tribulation is a test. Succeed, or fail. Defy, or fall. Passing a test is an act that can only follow from taking it. To surpass the wrath of Heaven is to acknowledge its right to test you."
Shan extended his hand. Pale skin, manicured nails. Orange-crest idly noted his nails had been lacquered to match his hair.
"I am Li Hou. You know it. You shy away from the awareness, but you cannot bury it. Take my hand, take the first step. Become more than what you were. More than any before you have been."
For a moment, orange-crest thought he could see a man standing behind the child's shoulders. Tall and powerful, beautiful in the soft way of men. Beautiful men were like sunsets, beautiful monkeys like storms. This man's hair flowed like a river of flame, and his brilliant water-green eyes shined with the promises of mischief. A bone-white staff capped and banded with beaten rings of gold rested across his shoulders. The twin crests of his helm danced proudly in an unfelt breeze. The shadows of men stood arrayed behind him, proud to follow a trickster. A hero. A King.
Shan smiled at him, proud and covetous.
"No."
"What?" Shan looked like orange-crest had just hit him in the man-eggs.
"No." The monkey repeated. "I am Li Hou. I am me. So you can't be me."
"Gah!" Shan looked like he wanted to tear out his dainty little top-knot. "Do you need it spelled out? I am a you that could be. A potential future. Take my hand and fly this dreary dream. Take your first step toward your rightful place among the Heavens."
The young man shook his outstretched hand emphatically, as if orange-crest might not have seen his orange nail polish the first time.
Orange-crest thought about it. Seriously considered it. He wasn't opposed to being human. It seemed like a neat thing to be. Not quite as good as being a monkey, but a possible contender for second place. Like a bird of prey, or a bear. But everything about Shan felt... Off.
He was orange-crest. Li Hou. He didn't need to come to an agreement with some strange materialized figment of his future self.
Most importantly, he could always take the man's hand later. Never make a bad decision now if you can still make the same bad decision later.
"No." Orange-crest repeated with finality. "Found you wandering in dark. Can keep wandering. You got in, so there must be a way out."
Shan grit his teeth in irritation.
"Literally none of those suppositions are actually grounded in truth."
"Okay." Orange-crest agreed, turning away.
"Men would weep, to hear my voice as clearly as you do. Wage wars for even this small a fragment of my awareness. And you ignore me."
"Okay." Orange-crest repeated, trailing a hand along the wall. With one eye, he watched for treachery. An interesting statement, that. One that contradicted his words about also being part of orange-crest.
"You," Shan spat. "Are nothing. No matter what choice you make here, what path you walk, you will not remain yourself. The monkey you are now is a flower in bloom, doomed to rot. No matter how much you desire otherwise, your nature is unstable. A choice will be made, and you will not like the consequences of refusing to be the one who makes it."
The words hurt. Orange-crest's head ached, and there was a roaring in his ears. The words lodged in them, echoing clamorously inside his head. For a moment, or an eternity, there was nothing except a great clamor. The world-obliterating roar of a waterfall.
Slowly, the sound of raging waters gave way to laughter. Not Shan's voice. Guttural, and deeper than the Fathomless Well. A laughter that shook the very earth.
"I knew I did not need to speak against man." It rumbled. "You know the poison of their ways. The futility. We are better than that."
Orange-crest opened his eyes.
The darkness was gone. He was still in the cave, but now it was lit by dim firelight. A small bonfire of broken furniture. It was much as he'd imagined it in the darkness. The castoffs of men littered the floor. Glass baubles and great jugs of wine, as many smashed as full. To his left, orange-crest saw the skeleton he'd stepped in earlier. Its limbs were long. Too long for a monkey.
They were the bones of a man.
A shadow passed over orange-crest obstructing the firelight. Slowly, he turned.
The most beautiful monster orange-crest had ever seen loomed over him.
It's fur was orange. The deep bloody orange of rusted metal. Great slabs of muscles shifted beneath its fur as it regarded him, whispering of scarcely restrained destruction. Its paws ended in claws thick and sharp as iron blades. Larger than the Monkey King, but lither and more vicious than big-butt. Its eyes shined with dark cunning, and burned with hunger. And atop its head a line of fire rose proudly. It began at its brow, a crest like a rising sun. It extended down the ape's neck to its mid-back, incomparably brilliant compared to the rest of its rusty fur. The long hairs swayed of their own accord, dancing in the stagnant air of the cavern.
The great ape tipped back a jug, a tiny cup in its terrible paws. Its massive throat heaved and sloshed. When it finished, the ape pressed its hand against the stone floor and dragged the jar along, grinding the clay into dust.
"We don't need to look like them, to claim their strength." The most terrible orange-crest rumbled.
"Yes!" Orange-crest agreed. Always better to agree with an ape that powerful. Whether it was also him or not.
"Finally, the beast speaks."
Orange-crest turned. Shan was still here! The human who was definitely not orange-crest was still present. He'd taken a seat atop one of the many jugs of wine strewn throughout the cave.
"I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten how." Shan continued, delicately pushing over an empty jug with one slipper.
"You seem to have forgotten how to do aught else." The great ape shot back, its easy command of man's tongue at odds with its bestial appearance. It spoke the language more fluently than orange-crest did!
Orange-crest frowned. He was beginning to piece together what was going on here. None of it made sense, but that was a man's complaint. A monkey shouldn't need everything to fit together to respond to what was.
He pointed accusingly at Shan.
"You hid my memories!"
Shan sighed.
"I repeat, I am you. You hid your own memories."
"No." Orange-crest replied succinctly. That didn't make any sense. Why would orange-crest lie to himself? Who would ever do something so stupid? Lying was a thing you did to other monkeys to make them do what you wanted them to.
"Yes." Shan shot back.
"Explain." Orange-crest demanded.
"No."
Orange-crest growled at the stupid fancy human with delusions of monkeyhood.
"Yes-explain." He hissed in the true tongue.
"Take my hand, and know what I know." Shan answered in the language of man.
"No."
"Is your bleating finished?" The great ape cut in.
Orange-crest jumped. How was something so big and loud so good at fading into the background?
"Orange-crest greets mighty-big brother."
"Little one." The ape's voice was like the wild wind ripping through trees. Familiar and comforting, but utterly devoid of both care and malice. The mountain did not love those who shared in its life. "Do you know what I am?"
Orange-crest thought carefully. This dream-cave did not seem like a place for fighting. But there was still something to be said for being polite in the face of a beast that could squash you like a bug.
"You are orange-crest. But older. Stronger." Orange-crest very carefully did not say better. This ape was no centipede, but its cave was no place of joy either. The true orange-crest disdained the way human daoists made prisons of their caves. This ape did not suffer that affliction. But orange-crest could still see its prison. It had no King above it, suffered no commandments of men. Its freedom was perfect and utter. So too would be its solitude.
There were reasons, big-butt, and not red-eyes, ruled their pack on Mount Yuelu. To be King or Boss, one must rule themselves as well as others. Like red-eye, this ape was incapable, or worse, unwilling.
The ape stared through orange-crest. The little monkey shivered, beneath the weight of its gaze. Orange-crest almost felt as though it could see into his little head, where he kept those little, inconsequential, criticisms of his monstrous future-self-big-brother.
"I am that. Your form, perfected. Your hunger, consummated. But that is not what I am." The ape said. It smiled, and orange-crest's heart skipped a beat. "I am a speaker for that which does not need speaking. A promise."
Shan snorted coldly.
"A promise of ending up as a trophy."
"Perhaps." The great ape conceded. "The urge to justify one's existence is yours, not mine. I simply am. And you could be too."
"Hah!" Shan shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "That's your pitch?"
"I am, and you could be too!" Shan lowered his voice, aping the great beast's gravelly tone. "Surely you see I'm the better choice orange-crest. Drunk and alone in a cave, feared by all beneath you, hunted by all above? And that's the better outcome, if you walk away from me."
The nameless ape's laughter came in fits and starts, like the cracking of ice just before a fatal plunge.
"Yes." The great ape chuckled. "Men alone beneath the heavens do not fear their seniors, nor scorn the junior who thinks himself free."
Orange-crest wanted to tear his hair out. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on here, but he had the shape of it. How could a situation at once be so terrifying, and irritating? These two arrogant... Things! Bickering like he was a choice cut to squabble over. How dare they!
He was him! Not them!
"And where are your glories, little ape? What will remain of you, when your bones are dust, your core a pill in a man's belly? Will the nameless beasts that scurry about your feet remember your name in song? How many years, until you are forgotten?"
"Is that how you measure the worth of your days? In how many remember them, after they are ended?"
"And how do you measure them?"
The great ape laughed.
"Why would I?"
"Gah! Truly you are the most annoying of all our facets!"
Orange-crest silently fumed as the two spirits argued. They wanted him to make a choice?
Orange-crest made a decision.