by Jin Yong
“It’s time,” he said to Qian.
Guo Jing settled his bill with the innkeeper and the two of them made their way to the forest of black pines to the west. Qian ran on ahead, leaving Guo Jing to enter alone.
Guo Jing gripped his whip and crept through the undergrowth. He moved slowly, his breath tight and alert, but after almost one li, he was still yet to see another soul. Only the occasional squawk of a bird broke the silence. He grew ever more nervous as he went.
Why not hide? Guo Jing thought to himself. Hiding’s not running away!
But just as he was preparing to slip into a nearby bush, a voice came from above: “You bastard! You toad! Coward!”
Startled, Guo Jing jumped back. He looked up and then burst into laughter, there, in the branches above him, the Four Daemons of the Yellow River were tied up and hanging by their feet. They wriggled like caterpillars caught in a spider’s web; there was no way they could get free. The sight of Guo Jing only made them more furious.
“Are you having fun?” Guo Jing shouted up, not bothering to conceal his delight. “I won’t disturb you.” He started to walk away but turned back. “Wait, how did you end up like that?”
“Damn you, we were taken by surprise. Hardly an honourable way to fight!” Qian shouted back down at Guo Jing.
“Young man.” Shen spoke next. “Let us down if you’re brave enough and we will decide this honourably. One on one, of course.”
Guo Jing could not be called intelligent, but he wasn’t that stupid. “I am perfectly happy to acknowledge your superior bravery without fighting you.” He smiled. He was well aware, of course, that Browbeater Hou was not among them, and he had no desire to wait for his arrival.
Guo Jing made a quick departure and headed back to the city, where he bought a new horse. But he could not help wondering who it was who had helped him. The Daemons of the Yellow River had most excellent kung fu; tying them up like that was no small feat. And what; happened to Browbeater Hou? My shifus have always said, you must never decline an invitation to fight. I showed up; it’s not my fault he didn’t.
3
THE JOURNEY CONTINUED WITHOUT INCIDENT AND HE arrived at the capital of the Jin Empire before nightfall. Known to the Chinese as Yanjing, Zhongdu’s riches dwarfed even those of the former Song capital at Kaifeng and the new capital of Lin’an. For Guo Jing, a boy of the desert, it was a marvel. Home to more than a million inhabitants, the streets were lined with decorative red-brick buildings with painted doors, and crowded with ornate carriages. Merchants stacked their storefronts with a multitude of goods, the likes of which Guo Jing had never seen before, as the fragrance of tea leaves wafted into the street. Music hung in the air, colours, sounds and smells overwhelmed him. Guo Jing did not know which way to look.
He was hungry, but he was too intimidated to enter one of the more luxurious-looking restaurants, so he chose an unassuming stall, where he gulped down a bowl of rice before continuing to explore. Suddenly cheers broke out and he saw a crowd gathered up ahead.
He approached and slipped between the spectators to get a better look. In the middle of the circle of people he saw the words DUEL FOR A MAIDEN embroidered in red upon a large white banner. Beneath it, two people were fighting, a rotund man in yellow and a young girl dressed in red. She had considerable skill, Guo Jing could tell right away. Her movements were balanced and well thought out. The man was no match for her. The girl lowered her guard and the man advanced with a Double Dragon Flies the Cave, launching his two meaty fists at her shoulders. She leaned to the side and then planted her left shoulder into his flank. The crowd cheered. He looked up from where he had landed, embarrassed and covered in dust, before slinking away.
She neatened a stray strand of hair and took her place beneath the banner. Guo Jing looked at her more carefully: she looked to be around eighteen years of age and had a most elegant figure. The shadow of the fluttering banner flickered across her pretty features. On either side of her an iron spear and two short halberds had been planted into the dirt.
The girl turned and whispered something to a nearby middle-aged man. He nodded and stepped forward. He clasped his hands in a gesture of respect and addressed the crowd:
“I, your humble servant Mu Yi, have travelled from Shandong to your great city. I seek neither fame nor fortune, but my daughter has reached the age at which she may put comb to her hair and yet she is still without a betrothed. She has declared that she desires neither wealth nor nobility in a future husband, merely a man expert in the martial arts. It is for this reason we stand so boldly before you and propose this challenge. All unmarried men below the age of thirty are eligible, and I promise my daughter’s hand as long as they can overcome her in one single move. We have come from the south because all masters in the land of the rivers and lakes are already engaged, or else have been too cowardly to take up the challenge. But we have heard much of the bravery of the men in the north, home to many valiant warriors. Do please forgive my boldness!”
He looked to be a sturdy man, but Guo Jing could not help but notice the slight hunch in his back. White flecks had turned his hair a speckled silver and wrinkles marked his face. He had a melancholy air and his dress was coarse and patched – a contrast to the vibrant colours of his daughter’s outfit.
Mu Yi fell silent and waited. No-one stepped forward. The crowd dared only lob vulgar insults about his daughter’s ripening beauty. He looked up at the black clouds gathering above. The wind from the north was picking up speed.
“A blizzard threatens,” he said darkly. “It was stormy that day, too . . .”
He turned and had begun to fold away the banner when two voices called out at the same time, “Wait!”
Two men jumped forward and the crowd whooped in delight. One was pudgy and far older than thirty years. The other was an even less appropriate match: a shaven monk.
“Why are you laughing?” the older, fat man cried to the crowd. “I am still single, why can’t I give it a try?”
“Dear sir,” the monk replied with a smile, “you wouldn’t want the poor girl to become a widow before she had even turned twenty, would you?”
“And what about you?” he snarled in reply.
“If I were to the win the hand of such a pretty girl, I would cast off my religious robes.”
This delighted the crowd even more.
The girl frowned, clearly displeased, but she removed her cape and prepared to fight. Mu Yi gripped her arm and urged her to stay calm. He then turned, unfurled the banner and once more planted it into the ground. The monk and the heavyset man continued their bickering, each wanting to fight first.
“Why not start by fighting each other?” a wit from the crowd called out. “The winner fights the girl!”
“Fine by me,” the monk replied. “Let’s put on a show for the crowd, old man.” He launched himself fist first at the man’s head but the old man ducked before returning the blow.
Guo Jing recognised their moves; the monk was using Shaolin Arhat style, and the older, rotund man practised Five Style Fists. Both were forms of external kung fu. The monk was agile, but his opponent possessed considerable power.
Just then the monk struck three blows at the older man’s stomach. The older man brought his fist down heavy on the monk’s head, who landed on his rear. After a moment of confusion, the monk staggered to his feet and, removing a blade from his robes, lunged at the man. The crowd gasped, while the old man leapt back and removed an iron whip from his belt. They had both come armed! The fight had taken a desperate and dangerous turn.
The spectators clapped but edged back.
“Stop!” Mu Yi edged towards the two men. “It is forbidden to fight with weapons.”
But the men paid him no heed. Mu Yi leapt into the air, kicking the blade from the monk’s hand and seizing the end of the whip. He pulled hard and the old man had no choice but to let go. Mu Yi threw the whip to the dirt and stood defiantly. The two men stooped to pick up their weapons and, acc
ompanied by the jeers of the crowd, slipped shamefully back into anonymity.
Just then came the tinkling of bells. The crowd turned towards the sound and there they saw a throng of servants accompanying an expensively dressed young man sitting astride a handsome horse. His eyes went from the banner to the girl and a smile crept across his face. He jumped down from his saddle and stepped forward.
“Is this the maiden?” he asked.
The girl’s cheeks flushed bright crimson and she turned without answering. Mu Yi approached him and bowed. “Sir, our family’s name is Mu. How may I help the Master?”
“What are the rules?”
Mu Yi explained.
“Then I will take my turn.” He looked to be around the same age as the young girl, handsome and evidently from a good family.
Finally, a young man suitable for the maiden, Guo Jing thought. Much better than the monk and the old fat man.
“Your Lordship must be teasing,” Mu Yi replied.
“What do you mean?”
“We are a wandering family without fixed abode, we are not suitable for a man such as yourself. This is no ordinary duel; it concerns the hand of my daughter,” he said, pointing to the young girl.
“How long have you been holding this contest?”
“We have been more than six months on the road, sir.”
“And still nobody has won your daughter’s hand?” The young Master sounded incredulous.
“It is most certainly because the Empire’s masters of kung fu are all already married,” Mu Yi replied with a smile. “Or they believe a duel with my daughter to be beneath them.”
“Very well, let me try!”
He is a most refined young man, Mu Yi thought to himself. Were he from a more humble family he would make a very worthy son-in-law. But he is of noble birth and could be related to someone important at court. In any case, he is rich and powerful. If my daughter wins, it will bring trouble. If she loses, how could I allow our families to be joined forever?
“We are mere wanderers of the south, we are no match for a man of your standing. Please forgive us, we will leave.”
“Your challenge is an honourable one,” the young man replied. “I will not harm your daughter, I assure you.” He turned to the girl and said, “All the lady has to do is make contact during combat and she wins, is that agreeable?”
“There are strict rules in a contest such as this,” the girl contended.
“Get on with it!” came a cry from the crowd.
“The faster he wins, the faster you can be married and show us an heir!”
Laughter echoed around the square.
The young woman scowled, removed her cape once again and bowed to the young man.
He too lowered his head. “Young lady.”
Can he really know any martial arts, having grown up with such wealth? Better defeat him quickly and leave the city at once, Mu Yi reflected.
“Very well, sir,” he said. “Perhaps I may take the Master’s coat?”
“That will be unnecessary,” the young man replied.
He’s in trouble, the crowd thought, aware of the girl’s considerable talents. And yet, maybe he, too, has experience of fighting in the south? Father and daughter both knew the danger of letting the son of a nobleman lose face before so many people.
“Do you think the contest is real?” some in the crowd whispered to each other. “Maybe that old Mu Yi is just trying to cheat vain fools like this young man out of money?”
“He’d better watch his purse!”
“My lord,” the young girl said, and lowered her head. The fight was on.
The young nobleman turned to the right and whipped his left sleeve at the girl. Surprised, she bent to avoid the move. His right sleeve came with equal speed at her head and she could only leap upwards to avoid being pincered between them.
“Nice!” the young man exclaimed, advancing before she could land on her feet. The girl twirled in the air and kicked at his nose. He lurched back and they both landed at the same time. They regarded each other with mutual respect. The girl’s cheeks blushed again, but she moved first into attack, the man a flicker of brocade, and she a cloud of red mist.
Guo Jing was amazed. They’re no older than me, he said to himself, and yet they are such skilled fighters. They would make the perfect couple. They could keep replaying the circumstances of their first meeting. He smiled to himself.
He traced each move with anticipation, until the girl tugged at the young man’s sleeve and ripped it from his coat. She landed back and held her trophy high in the air.
“My lord, we apologise most humbly!” Mu Yi ran forward, bowing, and grabbed hold of his daughter. “We will leave.”
“Not so fast,” the young man replied, his displeasure evident. “We haven’t found a winner yet.”
Grabbing at the front of his coat, he pulled hard, causing the jade buttons to burst in all directions. Servants ran to collect them, while one of his men rushed forward to help the young man remove his outer robe, revealing a tunic of lake-green satin tied at the waist with a sash the colour of spring onions. It was a fine outfit designed to accentuate his delicate, handsome features.
He swung his left palm high and brought it down swiftly, sending a powerful gust of air at the girl’s cheeks. He looked to be focused now, the fight was no longer just a bit of fun. The girl retreated.
Marriage looks to be in sight, Guo Jing said to himself. My shifus were right: there are many fighters of exceptional talent in the Central Plains. I would never win against such sophisticated palm technique.
“My girl,” Mu Yi called to his daughter, sensing the outcome was inevitable, “it’s time to give up. This fine gentleman is much more skilled than you.” He was clearly not one of those idle youths who adored nothing but gambling and women, Mu Yi reflected. He would ask about the family and, provided he was not related to the Jin nobility, he would approve the marriage. His daughter’s future would be secure.
He called for a halt to the fight, but the young man had no intention of stopping now.
If I wanted to hurt this girl, I could, he thought to himself. But he didn’t have the heart. Instead, he grabbed at her wrist. Alarmed, she tried to wrestle free. He pushed and she lost balance and he swept her into his arms. The crowd burst into cheers and clapped.
“Let go of me,” the girl hissed, her cheeks hot with shame.
“Call me your beloved, and I will release you at once.”
The young girl was incensed, but despite her struggles, she could not break free.
“You have won her hand,” Mu Yi said, approaching them. “Please let go of my daughter.”
The young man began to laugh, but still he clutched the girl’s wrist.
Her patience now sorely tested, the girl kicked at the pressure point on his temple. But he caught her foot with his other hand. She panicked and pulled back, losing her red embroidered shoe.
There she sat on the ground, her head lowered, nursing her white stockinged foot. The young man smiled and, to the crowd’s delight, lifted the cloth shoe to his nose and sniffed.
“Bet that smells delicious!” someone cried.
“Sir, may I ask your name?” Mu Yi interrupted.
“There’s no need!” he answered with a smile.
He took back his brocade coat, glanced at the girl and slipped her shoe into his pocket. Just then the wind picked up and large petals of snow began to fall.
“We are staying at the Prosperity Inn,” Mu Yi called after the man, “in the west. Shall we go together and settle everything?”
“Settle what? I’m going home, the weather is turning.”
Mu Yi’s cheeks turned a snowy white. “But you won the contest, I promised you my girl’s hand in marriage. This is a serious matter, young sir!”
The young man laughed even louder. “It was just a little fun. A rather interesting game, I must admit. But as for marriage? I’m afraid I must decline your generous offer.”
&
nbsp; Anger caught in Mu Yi’s throat. “You . . . sir . . .”
“What did you expect?” one of the servants called back. “That our master would marry a wretched girl of the wulin? You’re living in dreamland!”
Incensed, Mu Yi reached out and slapped the servant on the cheek. The young man, in fact a prince of the Jin court, said nothing, but motioned to the others to carry his man away. He went to his horse and was about to mount when Mu Yi shouted again after him, “Why do you mock us?”
The Prince made no reply, at which point Mu Yi ran forward and grasped the young man’s arm. “I would never let my daughter marry such an indolent and hateful young man as you! But at least give us back the shoe.”
“She gave it to me. I have declined the first prize, I am keeping it as my consolation.” And with a quick flick of his wrist, he was free from the old man’s grip.
“I’ll fight you!” Mu Yi was getting desperate in his rage.
He leapt up and aimed at the Great Sun pressure point on the Prince’s temples with both fists, in a move known as the Bell and Drum. But the Prince jumped up into his stirrup and called out, “And if I beat you, I won’t have to marry your daughter?”
The crowd were just as enraged by the Prince’s arrogance as the old man, but they remained quiet save for a few lone guffaws from some of the rougher men in their midst.
Mu Yi adjusted his sash and leapt into a Seagull Skims the Sea. The young man responded with a blow to the old man’s belly, in a Poison Snake Seeks the Cave. Mu Yi dodged this attack and struck with his left palm at the young man’s shoulder. The young man turned, advancing his right palm under Mu Yi’s arm in a Steal the Clouds, before bringing his other hand up towards the old man’s face. Mu Yi blocked with his elbow before slapping the Prince across both cheeks in a Protector Skanda Defends Evil.
His cheeks throbbing, the Prince was furious. He dug his fingers into the backs of Mu Yi’s hands and pulled away, revealing nails red with blood.
The crowd cried out. Mu Yi’s daughter ran forward, tore a strip of cloth from Mu Yi’s clothing and bandaged her father’s bleeding hands.
