Chapter 93: This Tang Monk Is Rather Cute

In Zhang Chu’s view, Journey to the West Diary was strikingly similar to Facing the Sea, Blossoms in Spring. Both wore a mask of cheerfulness over a sorrowful core; after reading them, one did not feel refreshed at all, but rather strangely stifled.

Of course, with not a single proper chapter updated yet, readers could never have guessed that this unusually clear-eyed bald monk would be lacing every line with mockery.

“Who’s cursing me behind my back again?”

Zhang Chu grabbed a tissue and sniffled, then got up and turned the air conditioner up a little.

Right now, Journey to the West Diary had only produced this one little poem, yet the uproar it caused far exceeded the earlier finale incident of Crime Psychologist, which left the mystery fans feeling especially choked up.

Journey to the West was an evergreen subject. Animated series and television dramas had accompanied internet users as they grew up.

Even now, it remained active on summer vacation programming across the major satellite channels and in cinemas nationwide, and every year there were always new films and literary works based on Journey to the West.

Zhang Chu’s tiny adaptation was pleasing to the eye. This sort of monkey seemed rather adorable!

“Ho-ho, my Great Sage is just this cute. He’s even writing to every demon he meets, and they’re all female demons too.”

“I want a Flower-Fruit Mountain of my own too, facing the East Sea, with spring blossoms all year round.”

“At last this Zhang Chu guy has written something I actually want to read. I really want to see a Journey to the West Diary like this!”

“He must be making it up, right? Since when has Sun Wukong been this sentimental? If you said it was Tang Monk, that would make more sense.”

“Nice, very nice!”

“Shout-out to Senior Brother! The handsomest monkey on Flower-Fruit Mountain.”

“And then? Zhang Chu, your lower half is gone!”

“I don’t believe this was written by that ruthless Zhang Chu. There has to be a twist later.”

“A lighter Journey to the West, then what on earth are the names of those mountains and rivers?”

“Monkey, fly bravely; your monkey fans will always be with you!”

These readers never imagined that Zhang Chu would utterly crush them with his next update, and they were all still basking in excitement.

These days, finding a novel worth reading was no easy matter. Even if this one was still young and tender, it had to be carefully nurtured; only after it had been fattened up could the slaughter begin.

...

After seeing those comments, Zhang Chu paid them no further mind. Praise like that was exactly what he deserved.

He casually logged onto the foreign web and searched for the Holmes copyright dispute.

But there was not the slightest trace of news there. He only occasionally saw complaints from foreign writers. They wanted to resist too, yet they were powerless; compared with those foundations, writers and enthusiasts were both weak parties.

“I wonder how far this has gotten. Why haven’t I gotten any feedback from my employer?”

He was probably the most completely blind employer in history. He had no idea how the system had managed to connect those famous lawyers, and he had no clue how the case was progressing.

American law was rather complicated. Zhang Chu could only grumble a little and wait for the day the news finally broke. By then, he would still need to come up with a convincing explanation for how an ordinary student with no background had managed to get so many top lawyers to take his case.

What a headache. Just thinking about all the loose ends made his head ache. He could only hope the system would have a reasonable explanation.

With the readers’ nagging for updates and their threats weighing on him, Zhang Chu fell peacefully asleep, completely ignoring their demand for an extra chapter.

How could a mere little poem satisfy such an insatiable appetite?

...

The next morning, while Zhang Chu was still asleep, he vaguely felt his bedroom door open.

He thought it was his mother or father and paid it no attention.

Who would have thought that this moment of carelessness would lead to the fate of being crushed beneath a mountain?

The little fat man, Wei Wenlin, suddenly jumped up and landed right on top of Zhang Chu, shouting, “The sun’s already shining on your backside, and you still won’t get up!”

Zhang Chu was practically coughing up blood. He hurriedly opened his eyes and kicked Wei Wenlin off the bed. “Get lost. Who the hell said I get up every morning only to eat lunch?”

Showing up at his house this early was simply an outrage against sleep. After taking such a direct blow, Zhang Chu was in the mood to kill someone.

Wei Wenlin, excited, helped Zhang Chu turn on the computer. “I didn’t like a single novel you wrote before, but yesterday’s Journey to the West Diary was pretty good. Do you have any stockpiled chapters?”

Zhang Chu rolled his eyes and pulled the air-conditioning blanket back over his head, muttering, “Since when did you start liking novels? I remember you hated them the most.”

“Yeah, I still don’t like reading novels. I like a few jokes and gags instead. Your Journey to the West Diary looks hilarious at first glance, so I’m giving you face and making an exception. Moved yet?”

“Moved to the point of almost crying.”

Wei Wenlin seriously searched through Zhang Chu’s computer, then said in surprise, “Brother, why is your computer so empty? There isn’t even any movie material on here? I’ve got some stuff over there—Shen Kiriya, Utsunomiya Shion, all that—stored on a portable hard drive. I’ll copy it for you next time.”

Zhang Chu slapped his forehead. The works he used to watch from Teacher Cang and Teacher Fan had already fallen behind the times.

“Stop looking. This computer’s new. There isn’t any of that stuff on it.”

“Fine. Hand over the stockpiled chapters and I’ll spare your life. Those guys have all been telling me to hand the manuscript over to them too.”

“I don’t have any stockpiled chapters. Everything’s in my head.”

Zhang Chu was wearing loose shorts and rubbing his bird’s nest of hair. A perfectly good pretty face somehow looked like that of a grubby old man.

The swift and decisive Wei Wenlin immediately hauled Zhang Chu to the computer chair. “Then what are you waiting for? Start writing. The early morning is the best time of day—you don’t even know that?”

And this from a man who played games all night long?

Zhang Chu immediately showed the little fat man his typing speed. Without the slightest hesitation, he wrote out the first day’s entry for Journey to the West Diary.

“Holy crap, you don’t even need to think?”

Wei Wenlin’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Whenever he wrote even a simple composition or diary entry, he would have to struggle for ages. Yet this guy rattled out a manuscript in a blur of clacking keys like wind and rain.

“Of course. The world of geniuses is not something a mere mortal like you can understand,” Zhang Chu said, standing up and giving the computer chair to Wei Wenlin.

“And this stuff can actually be read?” Wei Wenlin’s doubts were intense. He couldn’t even copy homework this fast.

“I went to ask my master how a person should spend their life. Master raised his eyelids, thought for a moment, and tossed me a book called How the Buddha Was Made. I read for a long time, and the countless pages at the front were all inspirational tales of a young Buddha who had foreseen things before they happened, sacrificed himself for others, and preached to all beings before finally attaining enlightenment. On the very last page, someone had written a few words in brush ink: ‘I don’t believe it.’

That vandal even signed his name: Golden Cicada.

...

I picked up that sutra text, and then, beneath Golden Cicada’s note on the last page, I wrote a few words of my own.

‘The classmate above, vandalizing books is a shameful act. Don’t you feel ashamed? [Note: I don’t believe it either.]’

Then I signed my name: Xuanzang.

Thunder rolled across the sky. Were they planning to strike me down too? Thankfully, there was a lightning rod on my roof.”

Wei Wenlin burst out laughing. Was this still the Tang Monk from the television drama?

He was simply adorable to the point of being deadly. Zhang Chu’s writing was packed with jokes and little surprises everywhere, the kind that could make a person smile in quiet delight.