Xingtie: My silly online friend is actually a raccoon!

Tang Sanzang opened his eyes.

What came into view was an unfamiliar scene.

Above was a carved wooden duster, with lotus-colored curtains hanging overhead. Sunlight streamed in through the gauze windows, casting soft shadows on the floor.

He lay on a spacious mahogany bed with fine silk bedding that was so soft it made him feel a little uncomfortable.

He propped himself up and sat up, shaking his somewhat dizzy head.

The last memory in my mind was of the journey to the West.

He only remembered reciting the Tightening Spell, and then... then what happened?

He couldn't remember at all.

Did I faint on the way and get rescued by someone?

Tang Sanzang looked around; the room was furnished in a simple yet elegant style.

A mahogany wardrobe, a carved dressing table, and a celadon vase on the desk, with a few fresh peach blossoms inserted in it.

A bronze incense burner still sat on the windowsill, with lingering incense and a faint sandalwood scent.

This is clearly a wealthy family.

He looked down at himself and saw that he was no longer wearing the gray monk's robe, but a clean white undergarment, made of soft, fine cotton.

His brocade cassock and nine-ringed staff were nowhere to be seen; in their place lay a set of lake-blue silk robes folded at the head of the bed.

"Wukong!" Tang Sanzang tried calling out.

No one answered.

He frowned and raised his voice: "Wukong!"

A slight noise came from outside the door.

Immediately afterwards, the door creaked open, and a young maidservant of about thirteen or fourteen years old peeked in.

She wore her hair in two buns, dressed in a light blue cloth shirt, and had a pair of big, bright eyes on her round face.

She was stunned for a moment when she saw that Tang Seng had already sat up, and then a surprised smile bloomed on her face.

"Master! Madam! The young master has woken up!"

She shouted as she turned and ran out, her footsteps clattering away into the distance, leaving behind the open door and a bewildered Tang Seng.

Soon, a series of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, approaching from afar.

A beautiful woman rushed in first.

She was in her early forties, wearing a deep purple silk dress, with a jade hairpin in her black hair. Her face was dignified and beautiful, and her eyes were filled with anxiety and concern.

As soon as she entered the room, she saw Tang Seng sitting on the bed. Her eyes reddened, and she rushed to the bedside and hugged him tightly.

"My son! You're finally awake! Your mother was so worried!"

Tang Sanzang froze completely.

He was held stiffly by the woman, a strong jasmine scent lingering around his nose, his mind blank.

After a long while, he finally came to his senses, hurriedly pushed the woman away, put his hands together, and said repeatedly.

"Amitabha! Please don't joke, benefactor! This humble monk is a monk; how could I possibly be your son?"

The beautiful woman was pushed away by him. She was stunned at first, then tears streamed down her face: "My son, don't scare your mother... Don't you recognize your mother?"

Tang Sanzang felt a pang of pity when he saw her tears, but he still persisted.

"Benefactor, this humble monk grew up in the temple since childhood. My parents died early, and I really don't remember having a mother. You must have mistaken me for someone else."

The beautiful woman wiped away her tears, her tone resolute.

"Your name is Chen Yi, the eldest son of our Chen family. Your grandfather named you this, hoping you would have a peaceful and prosperous life. You could recite poems at three and write essays at five; the whole of Jiangzhou knew of the Chen family's child prodigy. How could you not remember?"

Tang Sanzang was stunned.