"Macaque?" he blurted out. The man twitched and confusion painted on his face alongside a nervous smile.

"Well, yes, the warrior in the story was based on this character." he said and cleared his throat "I'm surprised you know about him." he added as he pulled down his hood. The man beneath it had a strong jawline and a short, black, well-kept beard in a shape that gave off a slight villainous vibe. His hair was a bit long and tied into a low ponytail; straight but messy. His eyes were like pools of honey or melted gold and were looking at the monkey demon with something he could really name.

"Why?" asked Wukong, not really to the other's statement but more to the whole situation "How do you know so much? Who are you?" he furrowed his brows, and his tail lashed from side to side, giving in to all emotions buzzing inside of him. He didn't know what exactly he felt, there was just too much at once and some of those feelings seemed to be contradicting each other, but he sure was feeling a lot.

"W-well you seem to have a lot of questions, mister...?" the deep voice cracked slightly at first but then it went back to this more professional one Wukong was first greeted with.

Monkey King thought for a second about changing his identity and making up a fake name but his mind was empty of ideas so he went with the truth instead with a nervous sigh "Wukong. Sun Wukong."

"Oh, OH." this time Mòchóu was the one to blink in surprise, his honey-gold eyes widened for a moment "You're Sun Wukong? As THE Sun Wukong? Monkey King Sun Wukong?" he emphasized his words theatrically.

"Y-yeah." his tail twitched in a nervous tick and he looked away with a soft blush.

"Huuh." the man hummed as a slight smirk grew on his lips "Well, now I can see why you're so interested in this story." he teased with a playful grin but then he moved his hands up as if surrendering "But no worries, I won't judge. I'm a mere storyteller, I'm sure the Hero had his reasons as well." Wukong felt the dirty gold piercing his heart and soul.

"Yeah, I think... He-" he started slightly absent, voice and mind far away still trying to catch on to the situation with now reawoken guilt. Only when his mind finally understood he didn't actually answer and the hooded man was looking at him slightly confused he got back to the present "I mean- I. I did." he corrected himself, his voice hardening, a bit too harshly for what he intended. But the man only smiled and hummed, he raised his hand up and stroked his beard with his fingers, thinking.

"Know what? How about we go somewhere more comfortable and talk?" he offered with a smile; a fake one, and oh, Wukong would know a fake smile when he saw one. Seeing one in the mirror every day for the last couple of centuries "I can answer your questions and you'll answer a few of mine. Fairtrade." he stated simply "How does it sound?"

Wukong furrowed his brows slightly. He could tell what type of questions this man wanted to ask him. His tail lashed and he huffed thinking. Was his curiosity enough to withstand emotions he tried to lock in the past and would be surely reawaken by the questions this man had for him?

"Alright. Where are we going?" he asked, standing up. He needed to know the truth so he was not going to back down now when answers to all tormenting him for the past months questions were literally in his arms reach. His tail got up, getting out from under the hood to stand tall and he crossed his arms over his chest trying to look more serious.

"Well, I know a very good tea spot." Mòchóu hummed, his voice like a calm before the storm "Perhaps you heard of it? Old Green." the corner of his mouth twitched slightly more upwards. Monkey King felt the hair on his neck stand tall and his ears twitched. His tail straightened in a quick motion.

"NO!" he said. Way too loud and too fast. Oh, that was super suspicious... He sneaked a look at the storyteller feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment for such an out-of-pocket reaction. But what he was met with was a soft chuckle, a breeze-like giggle, slightly suppressed but definitely not a nasty grin he for some reason expected. Maybe because he still saw his Macaque in this man.

"Hmm, not really a tea guy, huh?" an amused grin spread on his lips at this full of emotions answer. The King was pretty livid and the storyteller would lie if he would say that it was not slightly endearing.

"Y-yeah, yeah. I'm not a fan." Wukong caught a chance to make an excuse, and the tip of his tail snapped shortly from side to side. Well, telling a guy he was stalking him and searching for him for months would be a terrible first impression.

"Well it's alright," the man said calmly, shrugging it off "how about a coffee then?" he offered.

"Sounds way better." Wukong smiled nervously. Anything was actually way better than Old Green. He would surely die of embarrassment if they were to meet the owner.

"Alright," the man hummed, but then he looked at the stage and then to the door "but maybe not at this hour." he added with a soft chuckle.

"Ah! Right! Right!" Wukong laughed a bit stiffly along the man "It's pretty late, isn't it? hah..." he scratched the back of his neck.

There was a long while of that uncomfortable silence between them. Wukong not wanting to go yet and Mòchóu unsure of what he was waiting for, not going to leave first when it was his place. He sighed and looked to the side, sliding his long, thick finger through his black hair.

"But I have some time after tomorrow's afternoon play, if you would like to meet?" he offered, guessing the stone monkey would get the hint and leave.

"Oh! Yeah! Great!" Wukong blushed slightly and nodded fastly "Sounds great!" he started to back away, almost tripping over the steps.

"Wait! You don't know where yet!" he yelled after him. This monkey was so confusing...

"Ah! Right! Hah! Okay, uhm... where then?" he turned on his heel again to face the other, practically burning with embarrassment at this point.

Mòchóu exhaled with an amused smile on his lips "How about 'Moonlike Aroma'? Are you familiar with the place?" he suggested.

"Yup! Sure! Then we're good? Good. See ya!" he rushed out of the theater, feeling as if his stone heart was going to jump out of his chest or he would burn and melt there on the spot if he were to stay there another moment.

Did he just get himself a date with, most likely, Macaque's reincarnation..? Sure! Why not?! Why not complicate things for himself even more, when he should be focusing on something completely different?! He already had so much on his head, mainly because of Lady Bone Demon scheming something for sure not good. But he, of course, decided to get himself a coffee with his dead-ex-friend instead. Oh, how he hated himself and his inability to focus on what's important and prioritizing tasks.

Well, it wasn't like his search brought him any important information anyway. He made no progress whatsoever... Gods seemed unaware of Lady Bone Demon's presence, and all scrolls he remembered about her were nowhere to be found. So his search stood in the same spot as when he started it. But still, distracting himself wasn't the brightest idea he had those days.

As he came back to the Flower and Fruit Mountain he went straight to bed hoping for at least an hour of sleep that night.

''*★☽☯☾★*''

The next day was like a lucid dream to him. He barely slept that night, turning from side to side, his mind constantly drifting to Mòchóu. How similar, yet different he was from Macaque. It all seemed so odd, the way the man approached him out of nowhere and agreed to all of this. That's not something you do with some stranger from the audience, right? Yet at the same time if it were truly his Macaque, he wouldn't keep this distance between them for so long, Wukong was sure of that. He surely would still be pissed at him and picked a fight the moment he saw a chance. So there was no way he would wait so long with any confrontation. Their conflict, despite years apart, would still be heated and full of emotions they buried for the time being in the back of their minds, yet always ready to explode.

But this man just carried this aesthetic that screamed Six-Eared Macaque. Mysterious and alluring, just like the moon. His smooth, theatrical movements that made Wukong unable to look away, kept him in some kind of trance he couldn't break out of.

And that damn smirk. Bratty, yet somehow able to melt King's heart. And that laugh that sounded like the wind playing in the leaves on top of the Flower and Fruit Mountain. That breeze-like chirp that had Wukong blush involuntarily every time when they were younger...

But there were also things that different Mòchóu from Míhóu. The man seemed alerted and maybe even slightly distressed in his presence. Keeping his distance, always following Wukong with a wary gaze, as if expecting him to attack. And as much Macaque never was a touchy person, that rathered kept everyone at arm's length, he was never like that with him... especially when they were alone.

The Moon yearned for the warmth of the Sun.

And another thing was taking the lead so openly. Macaque was rather a type to suggest his way, then go with whatever his King wanted with no complaints. But the storyteller seemed to be pretty uncompromising and sure of his words and ideas...

Wukong felt lost with all those thoughts. All those similarities and contradictions. It was messing with his head.

When the first rays of sunshine rose between the curtains of his hut and birds chirped their morning song, he understood he fucked up. He was tired, yet his body kept having those spasms of nervousness and it was so cold and his tail was constantly doing that tick with snapping on the end when he was anxious about something.

So getting out of bed took him a few hours before his stomach started to scream at him and twist painfully. So he dragged himself out of the bed and went outside, snatching some peaches from the tree. Of course, in the end, it didn't end with only a few peaches. Stress-Eating was easy to fall into for him, he has been doing it for over a century now. His plump belly could be an advocate for this.

So now twice as heavy and not even a bit less stressed, he noticed it was practically the time for the show to finish. He got so caught up in overthinking and worrying that he lost his count of time. As if it wasn't terrible already. He put his disguise on and in a rush he jumped on Nimbus, flying towards the city.

The flight took him several minutes, before he got to the theater. People had already left the place when he ran inside and looked around breathing heavily. It was already dark and empty and his heart skipped a beat when-

"There you are." he heard a voice to his right, "And here I thought you stood me up." the man had an amused smirk on his lips as he looked at the King.

Wukong turned around to his right to look at the man and his jaw dropped. He looked speechless at Mòchóu, eyes wide open as he not so sneakily looked him up and down. The monkey demon wondered if the hooded man always was this tall or was the way he dressed just brought it out. He wore a sleeveless, black turtleneck that clung tight to his sculpted body. His pants were long, purple and pretty straight on the legs, yet giving his body an illusion of an hourglass shape. He had a silver chain-line belt, made out of half-moons and stars. His bovver boots were simply black, adding him a few more centimeters.

"I'll take it as a compliment." Mòchóu smiled smugly, seeing the Monkey King practically devoured him with his gaze.

"Sorry. I-... uhm-... So! Moonlike Aroma?" he blurted out, blushing in embarrassment, shifting his gaze away and back towards the storyteller. They locked eyes for a moment, and Wukong got a moment to get a better look at the man's face. A well-kept, black beard, sharpening up his jawline. A red, thin, sharp eyeliner decorated his dark-honey eyes, making his gaze look more alluring and dangerous. And an eyebrow slit over his right eye that he failed to notice the last time, made his character slightly more mysterious in a way Wukong couldn't really explain.

When his gaze went back to the man's eyes, he noticed it was Mòchóu eyeing him up and down this time, but not in awe... more like concern.

"Sure, but I just need to address the elephant in the room..." he pointed out, frowning slightly and gesturing vaguely to what Wukong was wearing "Not to be rude of course, but is this like the only outfit you have or is it an intentional choice?" he asked not even hiding slight disgust on his face. Yet, Wukong, somehow, totally missed the point of this question.

"This is the only thing I have for undercover." he answered bluntly, looking down at his hoodie and dresses, not sure what the other meant exactly.

"First, Eww. Second, before we go anywhere, we're going shopping." Mòchóu stated with a tone not to be undermined. Wukong felt his tail straighten in embarrassment mixed with surprise at that.

"Whaaat?!" he looked at the other confused, then the man grabbed him by his forearm "W-wait I can't, I need to keep a low profile!" he tried to protest as he was dragged to the exit of the theater.

"What for?" Mòchóu asked unimpressed, not stopping in his tracks even for a moment.

"Uh, The Monkey King? The Great Sage?? I'm like, basically famous here." Wukong countered as if this was the most obvious thing that answered everything "And talking while being surrounded by a huuuuuge crowd of my fans might be a bit hard." Mòchóu looked at him still unimpressed as if he saw it only as a huge exaggeration.

"Yeah, hate to break it to you Peachcakes, but the moment you're out of your signature clothes, you'll just look like any other monkey demon." he countered looking him up and down "So out of those sticky sweatpants and let me get you presentable." he decided firmly, looking at said sweatpants with a concern mixed with disgust on his face.

"But-" Wukong wanted to argue but was cut short. It was so long since someone just talked over him like that, and it made him all kinds of confused.

"No, I refuse to show myself somewhere with you dressed in those smelly clothes. I bet you haven't even washed them in weeks." his nose wrinkled at the weak hint of smell that came off of Wukong's clothing.

"I'm supposed to wash them?" Wukong blinked, stopping his steps in confusion as he looked down on his hoodie again.

"Uhhh," Mòchóu gave out an exaggerated sigh of disgust "I'm starting to regret approaching you." he deadpanned.

"Wait, it's really not that gross. I made them out of my hair!" he wanted to argue but was cut short yet again. Not that his argument made the situation any better for him.

"Doesn't mean you don't have to wash them! Nor let it smell like this!" Wukong tilted his head to the side and then raised one of his arms and sniffed himself under his armpit.

"But it's just what I normally smell." he argued, a hint of confusion passed his face.

Mòchóu stopped mid-step "Yeah, so change off plans. First, shower." and so he halted, turned to the left and pulled him to the crew rooms and into a small bathroom for the actors.

"But-" Wukong tried to protest, slightly lost in the situation. Usually, it was him causing chaos and starting havoc. He wasn't used to someone else taking the lead like this over his hygiene. At least not anymore...

"You get yourself clean, and I'll get you some better clothes." he commended, deaf to the Monkey King's protests.

And normally Wukong would simply not listen. Because he just never does. To no one. That's like one of his signature things. Yet, something in the storyteller's firm tone was uncomfortably familiar and so he just obliged. Not without a few annoyed huffs under his breath, but obliged not less.

He started to strip and he left his clothes on the stool. With a heavy huff he turned the water and when it warmed up enough he walked up under the shower. He felt his muscles relax under the heated pressure soothingly. It wasn't really that he didn't like to wash himself, or he liked being dirty. But it just wasn't an activity to be done alone, and he lately hasn't had time to go and attend washing and grooming with other monkeys. So he did it less often, he really didn't know what the big deal was...

He grabbed a shampoo from the shell with an internal sigh. Got some on his hands, but when his nose picked up the scent he took a better look at the bottle. "Bananas and mangoes?" he whispered, seeing said fruits on the cover and a nostalgic smile spread across his lips. He placed the bottle back on the shelf and started to wash himself. Bubbles covering his fur, and a sweet smell filling the air made him purr silently. He remembered when back in the days his and Macaque's scent used to mix from how much time they spent together, just laying on one another or playing in tall grass rolling around. So they both smelled of bananas, mangoes, and peaches.

Wukong needed to admit that despite his first skepticism, the warm shower was definitely what he needed. He closed his eyes and turned his head up, letting the water stream hit his face. Comforting warmth spread through his body and just for a moment, he forgot where he was and why.

That is until he heard a knock on a door and then them creaking slowly. He turned his gaze to the storyteller that just walked in with some clothes in his hands.

"I think those will suit you." he started right away from the door.

"You sure? I'm a bit... plump. Your clothes might be a bit small." Wukong slowly got out of the shower, took one of the fresh towels lying on the side, and started to dry himself slowly.

"I got this one oversized anyway. I wanted to make a few adjustments so it would fit me better, but I think it'll look better on you anyway." he hummed, with a nonchalant shrug.

"Huuuh, alright, I'll try them out then." the monkey's tail switched slowly from left to right as he dried himself a bit.

Mòchóu reached out to him to hand him a new set of clothes but froze for a brief moment. His eyes went down and immediately up and to the side. "Uhm, get dressed, alright?" he muttered with a nervous smile.

"Thanks, bud." Wukong chirped, getting the fresh set of clothes, his ears perked up as he curiously inspected them, until he looked again at the storyteller. The man had a weird grimace on his face and his eyes seemed to darken "Uh, something wrong?" Wukong asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"No. Just don't call me that." Mòchóu murmured as he left the bathroom. Wukong looked after him slightly confused but shrugged it off and just got dressed.

The pants were surprisingly good on him, a bit loose even. The pair of jeans with what seemed to be hand-saw sunflowers on the left leg, was high on his waist. Then a carmine shirt had widened, then tightened sleeves, which made him think of some pirate movies he watched on the recommendation of MK and Mei. The shirt also had a V-shaped neckline that made him slightly blush. Wukong looked to the tall mirror, a surprise passed his face followed by a prideful smug "Damn right, I look amazing." he chirps to himself, his tail going up.

"I must admit you got my size pretty good." Wukong admitted, walking out of the theater where Mòchóu waited for him "And the sunflowers are cool." he chirped, inspecting the material.

"Yeah, I had a feeling you would like it." the man looked at his handiwork with visible satisfaction and a smug smile plastered on his lips "And now I think we're ready to go," he clapped his hands and looked at the clock around his wrist "Tho, I think we need to move our shopping trip to another day. I have a show in the morning and need my beauty sleep and I'm pretty sure you have quite a lot of questions, soooo, you know." he hummed as he locked the theater after them.

"Yeah, sure." he shrugged slightly "We can fly there by Nimbus." Monkey King offered and was about to call his cloudy companion, but was stopped.

"Haven't you said you wanted to keep a low profile?" Mòchóu smirked amused as he watched the King now opening his mouth to say something yet then shutting it, not really knowing what to say to that "C'mon, I have a better idea." he claimed, as he started to walk to the ally in the back of the theater.

"If by that you mean walking by foot all the way there in this crowd, I still rather take a flight." Wukong huffed, crossing arms over his chest skeptically.

"Don't worry, you lazy ass." he chuckled in that low rumble that made Wukong's fur stand up and a knot tied in his stomach.

He followed the man into a dark alley behind the building and to his surprise there stood a motorcycle. A slim, old-fashion motorcycle, painted a deep purple with Harley Davidson written on the tank. The seats were black leather and there was a small flag with a red monkey outline with a nasty grin on it. It was overall clean and visibly well-kept.

"Woah! You know how to ride that thing?" Wukong asked, going around the machine fascinated, his tail up, bouncing from left to right with anticipation.

"Yeah. I learned pretty recently." he admitted and took two black helmets out of the bag on the side.

"Can I try?" Wukong looked at him with a feral excitement.

"Yeah, no way." Mòchóu chuckled amused and tossed him one of the helmets "Wear this." Wukong laughed at the thing and looked unimpressed over it.

"Pshh. What for? I'm, like, immortal, you know." he stated as he tossed the helmet in his hands playfully. It was a simple, black, full helmet, clean and visibly new.

"Yeah, that doesn't mean the law doesn't exist." the storyteller bit back with a playful grin "I'm not going to pay for the ticket because of you." he added as he sat down on the machine and put on his own helmet.

Wukong just rolled his eyes but took the helmet and sat behind the man with it on his head. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was funny, in a way, how easily they fell back into that old bickering. As if out of habit. Habit of a previous life the other had no idea of. Great Sage thought of it the whole ride, his hands sometimes gripping harder on Mòchóu's leather jacket from time to time.

''*★☽☯☾★*''

Once they got there, Mòchóu took the lead and pulled them towards the back of the cafeteria, finding a nice, small table slightly further from the others. Thankfully, there weren't many people inside anyway, and it seemed the talk they're gonna have was going to be at least a bit less uncomfortable.

The storyteller sat comfortably in his chair, one leg crossing over the other as he looked at the Monkey King waiting. He emanated confidence with his whole posture and gaze, not even for a second running away. Wukong, on the other hand, got a bit nervous as soon as he sat in front of the man. One look in those dark gold eyes and he felt weak, no words in his head.

"Soooo-" the storyteller decided to start, not wanting to waste time on this weird silence "You had quite a lot of questions yesterday." he prompted.

"Yeah! I- Uhm..." he felt nervous under the piercing gaze of the hooded man, as if those dirty golds could see all his sins, all his wrongs. He felt naked; exposed. He took a deep breath, he had recited the things he wanted to talk about the whole night. He couldn't chicken out now, when he was this close! But it meant facing his own feelings, and it was making his stomach twist and squeeze. He bit his lip and for a few seconds again escaped with his eyes to the side. Emotions were boiling in him and so his tail was lashing from side to side, slowly gaining in speed until Wukong just snapped. He slammed his hands flat on the table, furrowed his brows and stood almost knocking over the chair "How do you know about Macaque?" his tone was harsh, trying to mask how close he was to just breaking down.

Mòchóu flinched at first at the King's outburst, but then he raised an eyebrow in question at this sudden overreaction. He looked slightly offended and just stayed silent for a moment, waiting. as if he knew Wukong would soon notice his gaze, that was clearly saying 'hold and rethink what you just said to me'.
And Wukong did.

"Sorry, I-" Wukong sat down and looked to the ground, slightly embarrassed. He was supposed to keep his cool. Not get emotional over what he knew was already a lost case. Because if this man was truly not Macaque... then why even bother. He was just some stranger who happened to know a few things and looked vaguely similar to the Six-Eared monkey. That's all. He was only making this man's life weird and stressful for no reason, and he should be grateful that he even agreed to this talk and-

"It's alright." Mòchóu sighed, stopping his mind from spiraling further into despair. His voice was weirdly comforting, it carried this breeze of past warmth the King missed for centuries "Answering your question, well" he started and Wukong's ears perked up at this "I came by this journal... that most likely belonged to the Six Eared Macaque. I guess you can tell it coughed my interest." he smiled shortly as he looked around "Something in his story... just felt familiar and- oh, this must sound so crazy to you." he chuckled, but was interrupted by the other.

"No! No, no, no, it's- Uhm, it's fine. Please continue." he almost begged with how desperate it came out. But he never knew Macaque had a diary, and any scraps of information this man had, he would be grateful for.

"Well." the man smiled shortly as he continued his tale "So I started doing my research. It was pretty hard, since there is very little about this guy." a slight sight escaped his lips, as if wanting to highlight all the effort that the hooded man put into his research "But it hadn't stopped me. I felt this weird urge inside of me to tell his story. To not let him, you know, be forgotten."

"He wasn't-!" Wukong wanted to argue, anger sparking in him but one look in those dirty golds and it all left him, leaving him paralyzed. Seeing his own anger reflect in them brought back memories he'd rather buried again. Especially when thick brows above them furrowed at his sudden outburst.

"Well, I could find very little about him. But who knows, maybe I was searching wrong." he shrugged, taking a slightly offended pose. Wukong was asking him questions and then just negging all of his answers. What was the point of this conversation if apparently the Great Sage already knew everything better.

"That's not what I meant. It's just-" he wanted to back out of his behavior, dance around apology, but then someone stood next to their table and when he looked up he felt he was going to faint.

"Oh! You found him!" a sweet, yet pretty high-pitched voice chirped, getting the attention of both of them,

Wukong felt his face was burning and he looked to the ground wishing it would take him from this situation. The waitress seemed to not catch on his reaction as she smiled at them with visible excitement.

"I'm so happy for you! Are you two on a date?" a young girl asked as she looked between them.

Mòchóu shot a confused look to the monkey man. His eyes were going between the waitress and Wukong, but he seemed to catch on pretty quickly. His lips spread in a playful smirk as he decided to answer the lady.

"Yeah, Xīn ýi, would you give us a minute more. We're still deciding." he hummed in an alluring tone as he took the small menu into his hand. She blushed slightly and nodded fast, fixing one of her black strands behind her ear.

"Oh! Sure, sure! Sorry." she smiled politely and wandered off to the next table. Yet discreetly she turned her head to their table from time to time.

"Sooo, mister Monkey King Sun Wukong." Mòchóu practically purred as he placed his elbow on the table and rested his head on his hands, looking at Wukong with a piercing gaze "I already heard someone was searching for me from Mister Niánzǔ and Miss Yīng. Would it be a stretch to assume it was you?" an amused grimace played on his lips as he observed growing stress on the Monkey King face.

"Listen, It's not what it looks like. I- It's just-" he started, his cheeks red and his tail snapping from side to side.

"Calm down." the storyteller chuckled "I get it, really. I mean, yeah at first I thought you were some kind of stalker and considered going to the police after I confronted you." he admitted, pulling slightly back in his chair "But knowing now who you are." he looked to the window "You heard someone was telling a story of some warrior you defeated in the past, and wanted to check if it wasn't too far from the truth, am I right?" he spoke and then looked back to Wukong, who calmed down slightly as he talked. He seemed to have this weird effect on Monkey King, being able to pull so many raw emotions out of him without even trying.

"Y-yeah! Exactly, that's why I looked for you hah. Can't let my name be misused. Hah." he caught up on this handed-to-him narration. Well, he couldn't really say that he had been paranoid for over a month about Mòchóu being his dead-ex-friend and searching for him like a madman.

"Well, is it to your liking?" Mòchóu asked suddenly, pulling Wukong back to earth. He leaned back in his seat, waiting for the answer.

"Well-" he scratched the back of his head.

He couldn't say it was a badly told story. The wording, the visuals, the vibe, it all was great and it brought out a lot of emotions out of him. It felt as if the past was brought back to life again and made him think. A lot. All spurts of thoughts. But. Well, he couldn't really say he liked the story per se. It was one of those parts he rather forgot, since he couldn't really fix it now.

"I bet it was, I saw you crying in the audience" Mòchóu mused with a prideful grin stretched on his lips. Playful glint shortly showing in the dirty gold, breaking its waryness for a brief moment. Wukong almost choked on the air as he heard that.

"I wasn't crying! I just-" he huffed, his tail straightened up and his cheeks puffing out. As he was about to continue the waitress came back out of nowhere and cleared her throat slightly, getting their attention.

"Sorry, may I get your order?" she asked in a polite tone as she held her small notebook and a pen, waiting.

Monkey King panicked slightly, he forgot to even look at the menu, and he was already distressed. He reached quickly for the cart but before he could even take a look, the storyteller interjected in his low, composed tone.

"I'll have a double espresso and banana bread with honey," he hummed calmly as he looked up at the black-haired girl, and to the surprise of the Great Sage, he didn't stop at that "and for Wukong a peach milkshake and cheesecake with stone fruits." he summed up and smiled shortly to the waitress that noted everything fastly.

"Alright, thank you." she bowed slightly and headed for the kitchen. Wukong looked after her, confused as to why the storyteller ordered for him and why those things actually sounded good? He turned his gaze to the man, waiting for some explanation.

"Don't worry, you're gonna love it." Mòchóu assured and despite his better judgment the Monkey King believed him. There was something in this man that just made him go along with everything he would say. Just follow after him, letting himself slow down a bit and listen... something he should have done centuries ago...

Maybe it was the guilt making him take this un-him approach. Maybe the fear of making the same mistake again. Perhaps in a way, he hoped he could make up for what he did, and even if this was no longer his Macaque, somehow do his soul justice.

So he smiled shortly, a hint of melancholy snickered up into this fake expression "It's alright." he said and placed his hands crossed on the table "But, back to the topic. Can you tell me more about your research? What were you able to find and, maybe something more about this diary?" he suggested.

"Journal." Mòchóu corrected him and nodded "Well, my main source of knowledge is this journal. It has much about Six Eared Macaque's young years and, well, some less frequent notes later on. Some close to your fight." he explained.

Wukong listened, his heart twisting at the thought of young Macaque, and the times when there were just the two of them, long sunny days and tones of fruits. How they were practically glued to one another. And maybe they actually were with how sticky their fur used to get with fruit juice. At least before Macaque started to make him take more baths and took care of his rusty fur as well.

He wondered when it all started to break. Was it just that one fight they had? Was it enough to break centuries of bond? Or were they falling apart earlier and he failed to notice? Could it be? No. No, no. It was just that fight and that damn misunderstanding. It had to be.

"And as I started to snoop around in the library I found some brief mentions of him in other literature. Not the most prideful descriptions, mostly. But I took as much as I could find. It amounted to being just six more mentions in some legends." he summed up looking to the window to the right "Nothing really worth mentioning, actually." he shrugged, his gaze for a moment seeming absent.

"Could I... borrow this journal?" Wukong asked suddenly. Unsure a bit, his tail low on the ground, the tip snapping from side to side in a nervous motion.

"Huh?" the storyteller looked at him again, something weird passing his gaze "No." he said quickly as he straightened himself, but soon, seeing Wukong's shocked face and confusion he cleared his throat and added "I'm working on the next play. Something about his early years and I need it." he explained himself.

"Didn't you already read it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I did. But I haven't memorized it, ya know. That's not how research works." the man chuckled and he seemed to be back in his cool demeanor "I made some notes but I still need the original for inspiration and checking." he added.

"Could I... at least have a look?" Wukong pressed, a hint of desperation in his tone he wasn't able to mask.

Mòchóu crossed his arms over his chest and silently thought for a few moments "But not today. I'll take it with me for our next meeting, alright?" he offered finally and the Monkey King smiled slightly. Not the outcome he wished for but it was better than nothing.

Maybe after the man would finish his work, he would be able to get this diary of Macaque home? Or, if not- Well, let's just say Wukong was not above stealing.

The waitress placed before them the plates and beverages, breaking their eye contact and thoughts all at once. Wukong licked his lips at the smell of his cake and at how it looked.Oh, he could already tell this mysterious man knew his style, and it surely helped in letting him forget for a moment that there was another, more important, matter at hand.