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"Zhenyuan, you're only picking three?"
Sun Wukong was astonished. "This tree of mine bears three thousand fruits that never cease to regenerate. Why take only a few? You have forty-eight disciples, and there are Qing Feng and Mingyue, the two attendants. You should at least take fifty."
"Three is quite enough," Zhenyuanzi said, stroking his beard with a smile. "Should there be a need in the future, I will personally bring some ginseng fruit, and we can enjoy them together."
Among brothers, settled accounts.
Sun Wukong understood the meaning of Zhenyuanzi's words. Initially, when he visited Wu Zhuang Guan, Zhenyuanzi had given him two ginseng fruits. Now, with another two, the number equaled four.
Previously, Zhenyuanzi had eaten one Mortal Dust Peach. So now, even if he wanted to take fifty, he would only take three.
The fellowship of Taoism is as tranquil as water.
Give as much as you take.
Not a smidgeon more, not a smidgeon less.
