My name is Leilei — three stones stacked — because I move stones all day.
After the stele cracked, fragments scattered down the slope. Brother Tongtong collects the ones with writing on them; I collect the rest. I carry them back to the pedestal one by one — big ones at the bottom, small ones on top. The grown-ups call it busywork: the stele is split clean through, what's the use of stacking it back?
There's use. The stele is made of the Monkey King's name. A name can't lie in the mud.
When I'm taller, I'll learn to carve. I'll cut the characters back in, stroke by stroke, from Brother Tongtong's rubbings. Stone by stone, stroke by stroke — it goes back up. A stone-stacking monkey mustn't keep the stele waiting.