Just outside Chang’an, along the banks of the Jing River, lived two scholarly hermits who never quite made it in the civil service exams. One was Zhang Shao, a fisherman. The other, Li Ding, a woodcutter. Though neither held office, both were masters of poetry and well known in the region as the “cultured men of the countryside.”

One afternoon, after selling their fish and firewood in the city, the two stopped by a tavern and shared a few cups of wine. With a jug apiece in hand, they staggered home along the river and chatted about life, the universe, and everything in between.

Zhang Shao swung his wine jug and sighed, “Those who chase fame and fortune always end up paying the price. If not in ruin, then in paranoia. High office may look glorious, but it’s like sleeping with a tiger. And being favored at court? That’s like keeping a snake in your sleeve. It’ll bite you eventually. Look at us: poor, sure, but the moon is ours and the wind is free.”

Li Ding chuckled. “Well said, brother. Still, your ‘breezes over water’ are no match for my ‘evergreen in the mountains.’”

“Oh?” Zhang smirked. “Let me show you the poetry in my waves.”

And with that, he launched into a lyrical ode to life on the water: casting nets under moonlight, children laughing on the boat, his wife mending the nets. Peaceful. Content.

Li Ding clapped back with a poem of his own,. This one sang praises of mountain seasons—flowers blooming, birds chirping, chopping wood, and picking tea. Rustic bliss.

Back and forth they went, verse for verse.

“My river has fish in spring, shrimp in summer, lotus roots in autumn, and hotpots in winter!” Zhang Shao declared and recited another poem full of culinary joy.

“Bah!” Li Ding grinned. “The mountains have wild herbs, mushrooms, and chickens fattened on grain. That’s flavor you can’t buy in the market!” He added his own stanza, describing stews that would make any nobleman jealous.

They traded lines like seasoned duelists. One praising riverboats, the other mountain huts. Poetry turned into a friendly battle of lifestyle bragging.

“I even have leisure,” Zhang Shao boasted. “Watching cranes, teaching my son to weave nets, sun-drying the catch with my wife. Nothing fancy, but honest.”

“Same here,” said Li Ding. “Books, chess, tutoring kids, picking flowers, sipping wine. I wear cloth shoes and a straw hat, but I live better than most ministers!” Another poem followed, painting mountain life as idyllic as a scroll painting.

At last, the two burst out laughing. “No palaces, no feasts, just poems, pots of tea, and good company. What more do we need?”

They kept walking and rhyming. Their verses drifted from fishing and woodcutting to family and friendship, from rustic meals to lazy naps.

Zhang Shao raised his jug and grinned. “Brother Li, try this couplet on for size: ‘A mountain man with moon and wind for company.’”

Without missing a beat, Li Ding replied, ‘An old fisherman proud of his rivers and lakes.’

One by one, they strung together a full verse:

“Sleep in straw huts, wear rain cloaks;

Friends like plum trees and pine; allies, the birds and fish.

No talk of war or politics, no thirst for power or office.

Every meal: wild greens and wine, every day: free as the breeze.

In spring, watch the willows; in summer, pick water chestnuts;

In autumn, catch crabs and roast hens; in winter, sleep in late.

The year turns simple and sweet. No riches, no gold.

Flowers bloom by the door. Water flows by the boat.

No envy for lords and ministers, we only ask for fish on the stove and wood for the fire.

This is true joy—thanks to heaven and earth.

They laughed their way to a fork in the road and bid each other farewell.

Zhang Shao teased, “Careful in the mountains, Brother Li. One slip, a tiger might make off with you. Then who would I argue poetry with?”

Li Ding frowned. “Hey now, what kind of friend jinxes his friend? If I get eaten, maybe you will get capsized! Then who’ll sell fish on the street, huh?”

Zhang Shao laughed heartily. “I’m no amateur. I’ve got insider tips! You know that fortune-teller at West Gate? I bring him a golden carp every day, and he tells me where to fish. Every time—bullseye! Just today he said: cast nets east of the bay at sunrise, bait a hook on the west side, and you’ll haul in a feast. When I’m done selling the catch, we’ll drink again!”

They waved goodbye and weren’t unaware that their conversation had been overheard by none other than a Yaksha

Alarmed, he rushed back to the Crystal Palace of the Dragon King of Jing River.

“Your Majesty!” Yaksha panted. “Trouble! That fisherman says the fortune-teller at West Gate is so accurate, he’s stripping the river clean! If this keeps up, we’ll have no fish left!”

The whiskers of the Dragon King of Jing River bristled. He grabbed his sword. “How dare a mortal interfere with divine tides? I’ll drag him to the depths myself!”

But his crab and shrimp soldiers quickly knelt. “Please, Your Majesty, don’t act in haste! Half-heard words are dangerous. If you intervene directly, it might upset the heavens and draw celestial punishment. Better to disguise yourself and see the truth first.”

Dragon King of Jing River cooled down, lowered his sword, and transformed into a refined young scholar in flowing white robes. He descended gracefully onto West Gate Street in Chang’an.

Sure enough, the place was packed. A lively crowd buzzed around a fortune-telling stall.

“Born in the year of the dragon? Bad luck! Year clashes with your sign!” someone shouted.

Dragon King of Jing River elbowed his way through and saw the stall decked out in scrolls and incense. Books on fate, astrology, and geomancy piled on the table. The man behind it spoke with elegant authority, writing with swift strokes and quoting classics with ease. Above the stall hung a sign: “Master of Divine Charts”, and in smaller characters: Yuan Shoucheng.

This was none other than the famous uncle of Yuan Tiangang, a relative of the imperial astrologer and a man whose reputation echoed through the capital.

Dragon King of Jing River bowed politely as he entered the stall. A young attendant served tea and Yuan Shoucheng gestured for him to sit.

“What would you like to ask about, young sir?” Yuan Shoucheng inquired calmly.

Dragon King of Jing River smiled faintly. “Nothing major, just wondering about tomorrow’s weather.”

Without haste, Yuan Shoucheng pinched his fingers, made a quick calculation, and answered with a serene smile,

“Tomorrow: clouds roll in at dawn, thunder by mid-morning, rain at noon, clearing by late afternoon. Rainfall will measure precisely 3 chi, 3 cun, and 48 drops.”

Dragon King of Jing River scoffed. “Are you serious? If your forecast is that precise, I’ll give you 50 taels of silver. But if you’re wrong, even by a little, I’ll smash your sign, shut down your stall, and run you out of Chang’an.”

Yuan Shoucheng remained unbothered. “Very well. Come test the results after the rain.”

Dragon King of Jing River nodded and returned to his underwater palace. His courtiers gathered at once.

“Well, Your Majesty?” they asked eagerly. “Did you find the fortune-teller?”

“Found him,” Dragon King of Jing River said with a chuckle. “Smooth talker. Says there’ll be rain at specific hours: clouds at the dragon hour, thunder at the snake hour, rain at noon, sun by afternoon. Even quoted the exact rainfall: 3 chi, 3 cun, 48 drops. I made him a deal. If he’s right, he’ll get silver. If he’s wong, I’ll wreck his shop.”

The sea gods burst into laughter.

“Ha! You command the weather across eight rivers! If that mortal’s making up numbers, he’s doomed.”

But the laughter was cut short by a thunderous voice from above: “Dragon King of Jing River, receive the imperial decree!”

They looked up and saw a golden-armored heavenly general descending, holding a jade scroll sealed with Jade Emperor’s mark.

Dragon King of Jing River scrambled to change into formal robes, lit incense, and knelt to receive the decree. As he opened it, the color drained from his face and his knees gave out.

The edict read:

“Tomorrow: clouds at the hour of Chen, thunder at Si, rain at noon, sun by Wei. Rainfall: 3 chi, 3 cun, 48 drops. Not a drop more, not a drop less.”

Dragon King of Jing River stared at the scroll, hollow-eyed. “I’m finished. That fortune-teller isn’t human. He’s some immortal in disguise. I’ve lost the bet.”

Just then, his sly advisor—the shad-fish strategist—sidled up and whispered, “Your Majesty, no need to panic. Just… tweak the weather a bit. Delay the rain, trim the numbers. He gets it wrong, we get to flip his table.”

The eyes of the Dragon King of Jing River lit up. “Brilliant!”

He summoned Marquis of Wind, Duke of Thunder, Mother of Lightning, and  Cloud Attendant, and instructed each to stand in their respective positions and prepare for tomorrow’s actions.

The next day, the sky over the Jing River churned with clouds. But under the command of Dragon King of Jing River, they delayed the storm by one whole hour and cut the rainfall down to just 3 chi and 40 drops—off by a neat 3 cun and 8 drops.

Victory in hand, Dragon King of Jing River shed his scales and took on the guise of the white-robed scholar once more. He stormed back to West Gate and marched straight into Yuan Shoucheng’s stall.

Without a word, he flipped the signboard, smashed the table, and roared, “You fraud! Yesterday you claimed the exact time and volume of rain. It is completely wrong! Get out of Chang’an before I toss you in the river!”

Yuan Shoucheng didn’t flinch. He sat calmly, sipping tea that didn’t spill a drop. “Why the tantrum? The forecast wasn’t wrong. You were.”

Dragon King of Jing River froze. “What do you mean?”

Yuan Shoucheng smiled faintly. “I know who you are. You’re no scholar, you’re Dragon King of Jing River. You tampered with Heaven’s decree. The punishment for that is clear: violation of divine order. I’m afraid the dragon slaying platform awaits you.”

Dragon King of Jing River broke into a cold sweat and dropped to his knees.

“Please, Master Yuan! Have mercy! I didn’t mean to! Save me, or I’ll take you down with me!”

Yuan Shoucheng sighed. “I can’t save you. But I can give you a way out. Tomorrow at precisely three quarters past noon, you’ll be beheaded in a dream by Wei Zheng. Your only chance is to beg Emperor Taizong to protect you.”

Dragon King of Jing River kowtowed in gratitude and flew off. As night fell, he didn’t dare return to his palace, Instead, he hovered anxiously outside the imperial court.

At midnight, he dispersed the clouds and snuck into the palace grounds. Just then, Emperor Taizong was strolling beneath the moon in a dream.

A man appeared, kneeling and pleading: “Your Majesty, save me!”

Emperor Taizong blinked. “Who are you?”

“I’m the Dragon King of Jing River,” he wept. “I defied Heaven and now I’m sentenced to die in Wei Zheng’s dream. Only you can stop it!”

Emperor Taizong nodded solemnly. “Fear not. As long as I live, no harm will come to you.”

Dragon King of Jing River beamed with hope, bowed deeply, and vanished into the night.

The next morning, Emperor Taizong woke up still remembering the dream. As court convened at the fifth watch, all the ministers were present, except Wei Zheng.

Frowning, Emperor Taizong turned to General Xu Shiji.

“Last night, I dreamt Dragon King of Jing River begged for his life. He said Wei Zheng would kill him. Now Wei Zheng is absent?”

Xu Shiji turned pale. “Your Majesty, this might not be just a dream. Summon him, quickly! Don’t let him out of your sight today!”

Emperor Taizong sent an urgent decree. Wei Zheng was summoned and ordered to remain at Emperor Taizong’s side all day.

Meanwhile, at home, Wei Zheng had already sensed something. He had bathed, lit incense, and begun quiet meditation. He had read the heavens the night before and knew the edict had been issued. Sure enough, a crane’s cry echoed from above—confirmation from Heaven.

At 12:45 p.m., he was to execute Dragon King of Jing River in a dream.

Just as he began to focus, a eunuch burst in with the imperial order. Wei Zheng sighed, dressed, and hurried to court, kneeling before Emperor Taizong.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, for being late.”

“No need,” Emperor Taizong said warmly. “You’ll stay here today.”

As the sun climbed toward midday, Emperor Taizong suddenly said, “Bring the game board. Let’s play a round of chess.”

They had barely placed a few stones when Wei Zheng paused mid-move. His head drooped. He began to snore loudly.

Emperor Taizong chuckled. “Poor man, he’s exhausted. Let him rest.”

Not long after, Wei Zheng stirred and sat up, flustered. “Your Majesty, I fell asleep. My apologies!”

Emperor Taizong gently reassured Wei Zheng and urged him to continue their game of chess. But just as Wei Zheng was about to make his move, a sudden commotion erupted outside the palace gates. In stormed Generals Qin Shubao and Xu Shiji, dragging in a blood-soaked dragon’s head.

“Your Majesty!” they cried. “This fell from the sky, right onto the main street of Chang’an!”

Emperor Taizong’s eyes widened. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”

Wei Zheng stood slowly and said, calm as ever, “That dragon… I killed it. In my dream.”

Emperor Taizong stared in disbelief. “You’ve been sitting right in front of me all morning. How could you possibly slay a dragon?”

Wei Zheng bowed. “Though my body was here, my spirit left to carry out Heaven’s will. I was summoned to the dragon slaying platform in the dream realm. I drew my sword, struck the dragon down. Now its head has fallen into the mortal world.”

Emperor Taizong said nothing for a long moment. His face clouded over with awe, guilt, and regret. He had promised Dragon King of Jing River mercy the night before, and now watched helplessly as the creature’s severed head lay before him. Wei Zheng had done his duty, no doubt. But a promise was a promise.

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.

Enjoy Chinese literature? You can also explore my other full, easy-to-read classics like Water Margin, The Injustice to Dou E, and more on Amazon.