Chapter 46: Your Majesty the Queen, Please Exercise Restraint

Western Liang Women's Kingdom, ten li of crimson dress.

The whole capital was permeated with a rouge perfume, sweetly cloying and impossible to dissolve.

On both sides of the long street, crowds surged, countless citizens of the women's kingdom who had never seen a man,

At this moment they all rose onto tiptoes, eyes burning, staring fixedly at the open‑top golden litter that rolled over the green‑stone slabs into the imperial palace.

The litter had no roof; the sky itself served as a canopy.

The brocaded kasaya, symbol of the Fómén's supreme glory, was gone.

In its place was a dazzling scarlet wedding robe, as striking as blood.

Tang Seng leaned sideways on a soft couch, his cropped hair sprouting a layer of green fuzz, looking rugged and unruly.

He carried a Western Region glazed jar, its purple‑red grape brew trailing down his mouth corner,

staining his collar red, yet he paid no mind, drinking sip after sip.

In his drunken haze, the city's painted beauties all seemed like fleeting clouds.

"Old monk, this flesh of yours is actually more pleasing than that golden skin you wear."

Upon the palace wall's eaves, Sun Wukong sat with one knee bent.

He tossed a juice‑laden peach in his hand—one of the "stolen goods" left in his pouch after the great ruckus in the Heavenly Palace five hundred years ago.

Crunch.

He took a bite, juice splattering everywhere.

Kong Xuan stood at his side, five‑colored divine light hidden behind him, his expression complex.

"You'll just let him run amok?"

Kong Xuan looked down at the wildly expressive monk, "Jin Chanzi's tenth‑generation cultivation, if the Color Precept Yuan Yang is broken, the foundation of this pilgrimage will be shattered."

"Foundation?"

Sun Wukong casually flicked the peach pit, his fingertip power flowing, the pit turning into a flash of light that precisely smashed a small demon trying to climb over the wall to peek.

The monkey grinned, his face full of mockery.

"That's a shackles set for a clueless fool. The old monk's mind is now open; the spot he stands on is his very foundation."

Just then, the heavy vermilion‑painted doors of the main hall of the imperial palace slowly opened.

No civil or military officials lined up.

At the end of the towering white‑jade steps stood a graceful silhouette.

Western Liang Queen.

She removed her elaborate heavy crown, wearing only a light golden gauze dress, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall.

She paid no heed to the kneeling guards around her, nor to the infamous Great Sage Equal to Heaven perched in the clouds.

In her pair of autumn‑clear eyes, only one person could fit.

"Imperial brother."

A soft call, carrying a tremor that spanned ages.

It was not a ruler addressing a subject, but a beloved waiting for a return.

Tang Seng slung the glazed jar over his waist with a casual hook and strode up the white‑jade steps.

He did not clasp his hands together.

He showed no deferential bow.

He did not utter the irritating "Amitabha".

He simply extended his hand.

That hand, once only knowing how to strike a wooden fish and turn prayer beads, now forcefully reached out, grasped the queen's cool, pale wrist, and pulled hard.

The queen gasped, her whole body crashing into his broad chest.

"What should I call you, Imperial brother?"

Tang Seng lowered his head, his nose tip almost touching the queen's forehead, the scent of alcohol mingling with a strong masculine aura, instantly enveloping her.

A wicked curve lifted at the corner of his mouth.

"Call me husband."

The entire plaza was Deathly Silence.

The feather fans in the female officials' hands fell to the ground.

Even Kong Xuan on the roof's eyelids twitched wildly.

"Hu… husband?" the queen stammered, two red halos bursting on her cheeks at a visible speed, burning up to her ears.

"Ah."

Tang Seng answered loudly, exuding an unprecedented exhilaration.

He clasped the queen's slender waist and strode into the hall.

When crossing the threshold, his steps faltered slightly, and he glanced back at the scorpion spirit cowering in a corner, clutching a lute and trembling.

"What are you staring at?"

Tang Seng raised an eyebrow, a flash of golden light flickering in his eyes, "Pour the wine."

That gaze held not only authority but also a commanding tone of a superior.

The scorpion spirit felt a shiver run through her whole body; the demon king's innate ferocity was utterly suppressed. She hurriedly slung the lute behind her, lowered her head and obediently trotted to keep up.

When passing the queen's side, the spirit puffed out her chest in unwillingness, yet under the queen's composed imperial demeanor, she ultimately was defeated.

"Tsk, a battlefield of demons."

Sun Wukong rolled over on the roof and leapt down.

Inside the main hall, the banquet had already begun.

Tang Seng sits high on the throne, with the queen on his left, and on his right is that scorpion spirit who pours wine clumsily.

The queen's delicate hand peels open a crystal‑clear grape, brings it to Tang Seng's lips, her eyes full of tender affection.

"Brother, slower…"

The scorpion spirit, unwilling to be outdone, lifts a golden cup and offers it, eyes flirty as silk: "Master, this wine is… I… brewed it using the secret method of Poison Enemy Mountain; it is extremely nourishing."

Tang Seng accepts all who come.

Swallows the grape, drinks the strong wine.

Kong Xuan sits at the lower seat, watching this absurd scene, and can't help elbowing Sun Wukong, who is buried in his head, greedily gnawing on a pork trotter.

"Monkey."

"What's up?" Sun Wukong doesn't even lift his head; the braised pork trotter from the Western Liang Kingdom is cooked to perfection, tender and falling off the bone.

"Look at them," Kong Xuan purses his lips, indicating upward, "that's what love looks like. When will you, you mischievous monkey, achieve enlightenment?"

"Snap."

Sun Wukong slaps his bald bone on the table, haphazardly wiping the oily sheen from his mouth.

He casts a sideways glance at Kong Xuan, pulls a Golden Cudgel the size of an embroidered needle from his ear, and twirls it deftly on his fingertip.

"Enlightenment? That thing only affects my old Sun's speed in drawing the staff."

Kong Xuan: "……"

"You'll spend this life with this iron staff!"

Sun Wukong chuckles, about to retort, when the Golden Cudgel he spins in his hand suddenly halts.

"Bzz—"

A low, trembling hum emanates from the staff.

The once noisy great hall's temperature drops sharply, the lamps flicker as if about to go out.

The light at the hall's doorway dims.

An auspicious cloud slowly descends, atop it stands a white‑robed great saint, holding a pure bottle, brows lowered, surrounded by Buddha's Light, yet exuding a suffocating solemnity and chill.

Guanyin Bodhisattva.

She looks down upon the hall's scene of wine pools and meat forests, fragrant and decadent; even her Buddha's Heart, long cultivated to stillness, now cannot help but develop a crack.

Too… audacious!

"Tang Sanzang."

Guanyin's voice booms, like a great bell, shaking the hall's cups and plates, "Now that you have arrived in Western Liang, why linger? How dare you covet the mortal world here, destroying your true result?"

The wave of sound rolls, bearing the Fómén's characteristic admonishing force.

However.

In response, a whistling white jade wine cup.

"Bang!"

The wine cup swoops past Guanyin's ear, slams hard onto the doorframe, shards scattering.

Tang Seng maintains the throwing posture, not even lifting an eyelid.

He only utters a single word:

"Get out."

Guanyin's face stiffens, a flash of disbelief in her eyes, "Sanzang, do not let demons cloud your mind; I have come here to…"

"My Master told you to get out, are you deaf or what?"

A dark golden figure, without warning, tears the void, appearing before Guanyin's nose.

Sun Wukong, one hand holding the Golden Cudgel still stained with pork fat, a violent aura soaring skyward, shatters the all‑over Buddha's Light.

In those Fiery Golden Eyes, a ferocious beam that selects and devours flickers.

"Mischievous… monkey!" Guanyin instinctively steps back half a step, the Yángliǔ Zhī in the pure bottle trembling slightly.

She truly fears.

Five hundred years ago this monkey dared to wreak havoc in Heaven, and now even dares to smash the Buddha's Golden Body. In her eyes, this is an Irrational madman.

"Today is my Master's great joyous day."

Sun Wukong bares his fangs, his voice chilling, "If you're here to give a contribution, I, old Sun, will give you a seat. If you're here to chant sutras…"

"Dong!"

The Golden Cudgel thuds heavily on the cloud's head, sending a visible ripple outward.

"I don't mind smashing that broken bottle of yours for a sound!"

Guanyin grits her teeth, her gaze passing over Sun Wukong's golden wall, directly piercing Tang Seng in the hall.

She still wishes to make a final attempt; as long as the pilgrim shows any wavering…

But what she sees is despair.

Tang Seng doesn't even glance at her.

He, before the countless deities and Buddhas, within this solemn treasure hall, grabs the back of the queen's head and presses a heavy kiss onto her vermilion lips.

An extreme entanglement, as if no one else were present.

"Mmm…" The queen's body softens, completely collapsing into his arms.

After a long while, their lips part.

Tang Seng, provocatively, looks toward the Guanyin in the air, that dishonest hand wandering wilfully around the queen's waist.

"Bodhisattva."

He lazily speaks, his voice thin to the bone, "I, the poor monk, now relish this soft rice. As for the true sutra, whoever wishes to take it may take it."

"I won't take it."

Four words, like a thunderbolt striking the ground.

"You... you..." the Perceiver of Sounds trembled with anger, pointing at Tang Seng, unable to speak for a long while.

How is this still that obsequious Golden Cicada?

This is clearly a world‑chaos demon king through and through!

Still not getting out?!

Sun Wukong suddenly raised his staff, poised to strike.

Boom!

Ferocious demonic aura crashed down like a tsunami.

The Perceiver of Sounds' face turned deathly pale; she dared not linger, not even uttering a polite phrase, she hastily rode her cloud away, vanishing in an instant at the edge of the sky.

Tch.

Sun Wukong withdrew his staff to his ear and spat fiercely toward the cloud.

Coward.

Once again, the sound of strings and bamboo filled the hall.

Tang Seng waved his hand: "Keep the music playing, keep the dancing! Tonight we won't return until drunk!"

……

The night deepened, the moon rose high.

The Western Liang imperial palace was hung with lanterns and decked with banners, red silk like blood.

However, beneath this seemingly extravagant celebration of wealth and joy, Sun Wukong did not go to disturb the bridal chamber.

He sat cross-legged atop the highest tower of the palace, the night wind howling, stirring his scarlet cape behind him, which fluttered loudly.

Kong Xuan landed silently behind him.

Not going to have a cup of celebratory wine?

"There's a flavor." Sun Wukong twitched his nose.

Wine flavor?

No.

Sun Wukong slowly opened his eyes; his golden pupils burned in the darkness like two ghostly flames: "It's a fishy smell. Faint, but foul."

"Who is it aimed at?" Kong Xuan narrowed his eyes, the five-colored divine light behind him shifting unpredictably.

Me.

Sun Wukong pulled out a handful of melon seeds he had just snatched, idly cracking them, and said, "Looks like someone doesn't want this new Saint to have a peaceful day."

Ptooey.

The melon‑seed husks he spat into the night wind instantly turned to dust.

Sun Wukong slowly rose, stretching his limbs, and a crackling like bursting beans sounded from within his body.

He cracked a grin, revealing his two sharp canine teeth, smiling sinisterly.

Just right.

I didn't eat enough earlier… now… the late‑night snack has arrived.

Ps: Folks, I've been running a fever from the flu lately, really rough! Knowing you folks are watching,

I'm not asking for rewards; just please tap to urge updates—seeing those urges fills me with motivation!

Even while sick I dare not stop updating, for fear that if I pause, everyone will forget me.