Eighteen years passed, and the boy once known as Jiangliu had grown into a calm and bright young monk. Now tonsured and robed, he took the Dharma name Xuanzang, under the guidance of Elder Master Faming at Jinshan Temple.

One day during scripture lecture, he got into a lively debate with another monk. When the monk began to lose the argument, he snapped bitterly, “What do you know about the Dharma? You don’t even know who your parents are!”

The words cut deep. Xuanzang was shaken. That night, he went to Elder Master Faming, heart heavy, and begged to know the truth about his past.

Seeing the time had come, the master brought him before the abbot and solemnly opened a wooden chest. Inside were a tiny blood-stained robe and a faded letter, written in blood. “These belonged to you,” Elder Master Faming said gently. “And your story… is far from ordinary.”

As Xuanzang read the letter, tears welled in his eyes. “All my life, I never knew where I came from. Now that I do, I must find my mother. Once I find her, I will return and repay your kindness.”

Elder Master Faming nodded. “Take the letter and robe. Beg for alms along the way. When you reach Jiangzhou, fate will do the rest.”

So off he went, traveling alone, bowl in hand, heading south.

By the time he arrived in Jiangzhou, Liu Hong—now posing as Governor Chen—was conveniently out of town. Xuanzang began chanting sutras outside the Yamen, quietly collecting alms.

That very night, Lady Yin, still trapped in her false marriage, had a strange dream: a crescent moon turning full. She woke murmuring, “If my son had survived… he’d be eighteen by now. Could heaven be giving me a sign?”

Then came the sound of chanting outside. Curious, she looked out and saw a young monk standing by the gates. Something about him stirred her heart. She called out, “Young Master, where are you from?”

“I am a disciple of Elder Master Faming from Jinshan Temple,” he replied.

Her eyes lit up. She immediately invited him in for a vegetarian meal. As she observed him closely, she noticed he looked oddly familiar—his brows, his eyes… echoes of her long-lost husband. Dismissing her servants, she asked in a low voice, “Tell me, were you raised in the temple? Do you know your parents?”

Xuanzang sighed. “My father was murdered. My mother was taken by the killer. My master sent me to Jiangzhou to find her.”

Her heart skipped. “What is your mother’s name?”

“She’s Yin Wenjiao. My father was Chen Guangrui. I was called Jiangliu as a child, now I am Xuanzang.”

The bowl slipped from her hands. She staggered back. “I… I am Yin Wenjiao. Do you have any proof?”

Xuanzang dropped to his knees, eyes brimming. “Mother, if you don’t believe me, here is the blood letter and the robe I wore as a baby.”

She read the letter with trembling hands, then threw her arms around him, sobbing. “My son, it’s really you!”

They wept together, joy pouring down like rain after drought.

But danger still lurked. “You must leave now,” she whispered. “If Liu Hong returns and sees you, he’ll kill you. Tomorrow, I’ll pretend to be ill and ask to visit the temple to make a vow. Meet me there.”

The next day, she went pale and refused to eat. When Liu Hong came home, she moaned weakly, “I once vowed to donate a hundred pairs of monk’s shoes. My illness must be heaven’s reminder.”

Afraid she’d die and arouse suspicion, Liu Hong ordered the townsfolk to make the shoes and arranged a boat to send her to Jinshan Temple.

Xuanzang had already told Elder Master Faming everything. When Lady Yin arrived, she offered alms, gave thanks, and had her maid secretly deliver the shoes. Once the ceremony ended and the others left, Xuanzang knelt before her again. She asked him to remove his sock.

There it was—his left pinky toe missing, the mark she’d left eighteen years ago. The two embraced once more, mother and son reunited, tears falling freely.

Elder Master Faming, ever practical, warned them: “Liu Hong is dangerous. You cannot stay in Jiangzhou much longer. You must act quickly.”

Lady Yin agreed. Before leaving, she handed Xuanzang a handwritten letter and a scented bracelet. “Go to Wanhua Inn in Hongzhou. Find your grandmother, Madam Zhang. Then take this letter to Chang’an and find my father, Prime Minister Yin. Ask him to report this injustice to Emperor Taizong. Only then can we bring Liu Hong to justice and save your father.”

Xuanzang set off at once.

In Hongzhou, at the old inn, he inquired about Madam Zhang. “She lost her sight years ago,” the innkeeper said. “Now begs by the brickyards south of town.”

Xuanzang ran through the city and found a frail old woman sitting by a crumbling wall. “Grandmother,” he cried, “I’m Chen Guangrui’s son!”

Madam Zhang froze. “My son vanished without a word. I thought he’d abandoned me… but he was murdered? Heaven have mercy! My family still has a future!”

Xuanzang gently asked about her blindness.

“Years of crying,” she whispered. “I wept every day until my tears ran dry.”

Xuanzang knelt and prayed fervently. “I am eighteen now. Our family has suffered enough. May heaven grant my grandmother her sight.” Then he licked her eyes with his tongue—an ancient gesture of filial piety.

A miracle—her vision returned. She blinked, saw him clearly, and gasped. “You look just like Guangrui… It really is you!”

He settled her into the inn, left her some money, and said, “I have unfinished business, but I’ll return for you soon.”

He made his way to Chang’an and arrived at the Prime Minister Yin’s residence. When the guards asked his purpose, he said, “I’ve come to see Prime Minister Yin. I bring news of his daughter.”

Inside, the minister scoffed. “What does a monk have to do with me?”

But his wife interrupted. “Last night I dreamed our daughter returned. Let him in.”

Xuanzang entered, knelt, and wept as he handed over the letter. Prime Minister Yin read it and burst into tears. “This is my grandson! My son-in-law was murdered, my daughter stolen, and this villain wore another man’s name for eighteen years?”

The next morning, Prime Minister Yin presented his case before Emperor Taizong.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “my daughter’s husband, the Number One Scholar Chen Guangrui, was ambushed and murdered. The killer took his name, seized his post, and forced my daughter to live as his wife. The traitor still rules in Jiangzhou.”

Emperor Taizong flew into a rage. “This villain dares deceive Us?” he thundered. He ordered sixty thousand Imperial Guards to march on Jiangzhou under Prime Minister Yin’s command.

The army moved under cover of night and surrounded Liu Hong’s Yamen before dawn. At the first blast of the signal cannon, soldiers stormed in. Liu Hong, still snoring, was dragged out in chains.

Everyone involved in the conspiracy was hauled to the execution ground.

Meanwhile, Prime Minister Yin entered the Yamen and found his daughter. Lady Yin, overwhelmed with shame, tried to take her own life, but Xuanzang arrived just in time.

He knelt before her, tears falling. “The villain has been punished. Our family is avenged. Why should you die now, Mother?”

Prime Minister Yin tried to comfort his daughter: “This isn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself.”

Lady Yin sobbed, “A woman should stay true to one man. My husband was murdered, and I lived on… I’m so ashamed.”

He sighed. “This was fate’s cruelty, not your doing.”

Father and daughter wept in each other’s arms. Xuanzang, too, was overwhelmed with tears. Though reunited at last, the family could never forget the tragedy that brought them here.

Wiping away his tears, Prime Minister Yin rushed to the execution ground to interrogate the killer. As luck would have it, local officials had just captured the accomplice, Li Biao. Both were dragged to the platform. Delighted, Prime Minster Yin ordered a full confession: one hundred lashes for each before questioning.

Li Biao broke first. He was sentenced to death by dismemberment, his head displayed as a warning. Then Prime Minister Yin personally escorted Liu Hong—the murderer—to the riverside, along with Lady Yin and their grandson Xuanzang.

There, they burned incense and made offerings to honor the spirit of Chen Guangrui. Then, in a solemn ritual, Liu Hong’s heart and liver were cut out and offered in blood sacrifice. Xuanzang wrote a eulogy. The whole family broke down in tears by the riverbank.

Their cries moved even the gods below. A river patrol demon took the scroll straight to the Dragon King’s palace. The Dragon King read the eulogy and was deeply touched. “What a loyal, loving family!” he declared. He immediately sent a turtle general to summon Chen Guangrui’s soul.

“Your wife, son, and father-in-law have all come to honor you,” the Dragon King said. “Go back. Rejoin them.”

Before he left, the Dragon King even gifted him a trove of treasure. Grateful beyond words, Chen Guangrui was returned to his body by the river.

Back at the bank, Lady Yin, overcome with sorrow, attempted to throw herself into the river. Xuanzang clung to her tightly. Amid the chaos, a body floated ashore.

Lady Yin gasped. “It’s Guangrui! It’s my husband!” She ran to him, wailing.

As everyone looked on, the body stirred, then slowly sat up. Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Chen Guangrui blinked in confusion. “Am I dreaming? What are you all doing here?”

His wife, still crying, explained everything. How she gave birth after his death. How Xuanzang searched for the truth. How Prime Minister Yin appealed to Emperor Taizong. How vengeance was finally served. She even told him how they offered a traitor’s organs to his spirit—just before he came back.

Chen Guangrui was stunned. “It all makes sense. I once freed a golden carp at the Wanhua Inn. It turns out that was the Dragon King in disguise. When I was pushed into the river, he saved me, preserved my soul, and now he’s brought me back… And to think, my wife bore me a son, and my father-in-law avenged me. What more could I ask for?”

News of his return spread quickly. Local officials came to offer congratulations. Prime Minister Yin hosted a grand banquet and soon led the family back to the capital.

Passing through the Wanhua Inn, Chen Guangrui and Xuanzang made a detour to find Liu Xiao’er and bring back Chen Guangrui’s mother.

Madam Zhang, his mother, had dreamt the night before of a dead tree blooming and magpies singing—an omen. The next morning, a young monk knocked on her door and cried out, “Mother, it’s us!”

She opened the door to find her long-lost son kneeling before her. They embraced, both in tears. Once reunited, Chen Guangrui told her everything. She wept with joy. “Heaven does have eyes,” she kept repeating.

After settling the inn’s bill, the whole family returned to the capital. At the Prime Minister Yin’s residence, Chen Guangrui brought his wife, son, and mother to greet Mrs. Yin. Seeing her daughter safe, her grandson grown, and her son-in-law alive again, Mrs. Yin was moved to tears. A feast was immediately ordered.

Prime Minister Yin raised his cup and smiled. “Let’s call this banquet the Reunion Feast!”

The family was finally whole, joyful, and at peace.

The next day, Prime Minister Yin reported the entire story to Emperor Taizong and recommended reinstating Chen Guangrui. Emperor Taizong, moved by the tale, appointed Chen Guangrui as a Hanlin Academician, restoring his honor and position at court.

Xuanzang, meanwhile, chose to stay on the spiritual path. He was sent to Hongfu Temple and ordained as a monk.

But Lady Yin, still carrying the burden of grief and loyalty, eventually chose to end her life by leaping into the river—to remain faithful to her husband, even in death.

Devastated, Xuanzang returned to Jinshan Temple, vowing to repay all the kindness and suffering he’d received by spreading the teachings of the Buddha—to save others from the pain he had known.

End of this chapter. Thank you for reading!

This is just the serialized version of Journey to the West (modern retelling). If you want to read the full book faster, check out the complete, easy-to-read English and Chinese (Simplified & Traditional) version on Amazon.

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