by Tao Wong
Not that Wu Ying particularly cared. Beautiful or not, the lady Ong was obviously out of his reach. For that matter… Wu Ying rubbed his nose, considering. In the past few months, his interest in the fairer sex had waned somewhat. A side effect of all the cultivating? Or more likely a side effect of the sheer amount of training and work that he had faced. Who had the time to look at romance when you spent entire days running up mountains?
“Why are you laughing?” Zhong Shei said as he stomped over, his bag still slung over his shoulder.
The captain had yet to inform them—or send anyone over to inform them—where they would be staying, leaving the pair of passengers to wait at the bow of the ship.
“Just an idle thought. Your friends are gone?” Wu Ying said, his demeanor more relaxed now that they were mostly out of the city. That he was a sect member—even an outer sect member—had raised his social standing in Zhong Shei’s eyes. Enough so that the merchant’s son was willing to talk to him voluntarily.
“I sent them off. The captain wanted me on board,” Zhong Shei said grumpily. “Well, so long as you’re not insane. Though if you came from the Verdant Green Waters on foot, that’s arguable.”
“How…? Ah Kong, right?” Wu Ying said, remembering the dinner invitation on the second night and the conversation the pair had held. “You sent him?”
“My father,” Zhong Shei said. “He was quite interested in the news about the roads and the bandit Ji Ang. That news will do his merchant firm a lot of good. Spread some goodwill among those he tells and save him some money too.”
Wu Ying nodded slowly. “I’m not sure if Ji Ang would stay in that area.”
“Of course. We’d already heard some rumors, but confirmation is important,” Zhong Shei said. “But the bandit is a real problem. He’s smart. He cultivates a style that lets him sense the strength of others at a distance, and he and his group avoid targets that are too strong. Which means he picks on all the individual merchants and runs from everything else. Every group we send out…” Zhong Shei grew visibly frustrated before he relaxed, shaking his head. “We’ll get him. They never last.”
“Of course not,” Wu Ying said with a nod. Glancing at Zhong Shei’s slim bag, he leaned over. “I don’t see the bottle.”
“In my storage ring,” Zhong Shei said with a half-smile, especially when Wu Ying’s eyes widened. He smirked before touching the bag. “This is just for clothing. And some small keepsakes to keep the thieves busy.”
Wu Ying could not help but look at Zhong Shei with envy. Ah, to be young, handsome, and rich.
“You two, come along. I’ll show you your cabin.”
“Cabin?” Zhong Shei said.
“Yes, cabin. You are sharing one.” The sailor who had been sent to guide them gestured again. “Well, come on.”
“Damn it, Uncle! Forcing me to share…” Turning around, Zhong Shei glared at Wu Ying. “You better not snore!”
***
“Can’t sleep?” the sailor asked Wu Ying later that evening as the youngster walked up from belowdecks. Since they were heading downwind and downriver, the boat had its sail fully out, leaving the oars docked and Wu Ying nothing to do.
“Snores like a tree cracking in winter.”
“Well, don’t bother the others,” the sailor cautioned before he turned back to darning his pants by the light of the lantern he sat beneath.
The deck of the boat was quiet, only the slow creak of the deck and sails, the lapping of waters, and the occasional raised voice from below breaking the silence. Few sailors were up at this time of night, just the lookouts, the helmsmen, and a few others, like the sailor who spoke to him, catching up on their chores. In the silence, Wu Ying moved to the bow and found a clear portion of the deck.
If he could not sleep, he might as well practice. Sliding into a resting position, Wu Ying took a deep breath and exhaled. Light flashed as he surged into motion, the sword drawn from his hip with a flash. Each motion was sharp, incisive. A twist, a turn, the jian catching the lantern light and flickering like a firefly.
Step by step, form by form, Wu Ying trained in the sword style passed on to him by his family. Even if he had practiced it for years before, there was an impetus, a need that drove his actions now. Before, even in the sect, the knowledge that he would need this style to fight for his life had been academic. Now, Wu Ying understood in his flesh, his muscles, his bones, that to survive this world, he needed strength.
Sense of the Sword gave his actions perfect distance and timing. But it did nothing for how smoothly he moved, how he chained each action together. Only practice, only conscious practice, would do that. As he moved, Wu Ying paid minute attention to his body, judging his balance and weight distribution, the speed of his thrust and the integration of his muscles. He had replayed that final attack from Benefactor Yuan Rang over and over in his mind, seeing each motion, each turn of the body and exertion of muscle.
There was no way for Wu Ying to replicate the attack, not really. He knew not the chi flow, the theoretical underpinnings of the attack. It was one of the fundamental truths of styles—you could copy the motions, but it left behind the understanding of when, where, and how to use the motion. You could not copy the multiple variations of the attack that were never shown—or the way the attack might block off specific retaliations because of subtle positioning.
Still, Yuan Rang’s attack had been carried out in the Body Cleansing stage of cultivation, one whose major impetus was the use of the cultivator’s body. As such, while he might never be able to replicate it, Wu Ying could take some wisdom from the attack and integrate it into his understanding of the Long family style.
When he was done with the first sword form, Wu Ying moved to the second. Time passed as his body sweated, a small thrum of chi running through him as he unconsciously circulated it, cultivating as he moved. When he was finally done, the moon was high in the sky and the shift had changed.
Bringing his legs together, Wu Ying stared at the passing night sky and the wisps of clouds, thinking over what he had learned. For a time, he stood there, letting the knowledge settle before he sheathed his sword.
Enough for tonight. Perhaps Zhong Shei had quieted down.
***
“Why are you up already?” Zhong Shei said as he came up from belowdecks, running a hand through his hair to ensure it was properly coifed.
“It’s ten in the morning,” Wu Ying said, shaking his head slightly as he finished the movement he had been in the midst of when Zhong Shei had spoken. It involved a cut kick followed by a stomp and what could either be a block or grab, which would result in a hip turn to upset and destabilize. Back leg would then come up as weight came forward and the form itself followed with a sweep. Of course, depending on the strength or location of the attacker, it could also be a simple kick to the foot.
“Exactly! We’re in the middle of the river. There are no shifts to wake up for, no captain complaining about you being late or patrols to be done. It’s freedom.”
Wu Ying did not deign to answer Zhong Shei as he continued to practice. Crane stretches in the water followed by waterfall splashing saw Wu Ying land on the sweeping foot and drop into a low stance. After which Wu Ying had to stand, using an axe kick at low range even as he twisted. It was a weird combination, and he, as yet, did not understand its use. It also hurt—quite a bit—to do. His body had yet to adapt.
“I thought you were a jian-wielder,” Zhong Shei said, interrupting Wu Ying again.
The cultivator sighed and landed lightly, holding the pose to let his body memorize the position. “I am. I’m also studying this.”
“Huh,” Zhong Shei said, watching Wu Ying go back to practicing. With a wave, the guard ambled off to find his breakfast.
An hour later, when Wu Ying had finally finished his daily practice and was taking a moment to rest, Zhong Shei plopped down next to him, a white bun in each hand. “Bun?”
“Thank you,” Wu Ying said, taking the proffered fo
od.
The pair ate in silence for a time before Zhong Shei spoke up. “What are you doing next?”
“Cultivating.”
“Seriously?” Zhong Shei said with a roll of his eyes. “We’re out. Free from the city. And you’re going to cultivate?”
“Yes,” Wu Ying replied, wondering why Zhong Shei was even speaking to him. Then he realized the guard had no one better to talk to. He was the closest one to Zhong Shei in station on board and, even more importantly, the only one free. At Zhong Shei’s impatient gaze, he relented and explained. “At the sect tournament, I intend to win a spot in the inner sect if possible. At the least, I don’t intend to be sent back.”
“What are you? Body Cleansing Five? Six?”
“Seven.”
“Damn. For a peasant…” Zhong Shei looked at Wu Ying when he realized that perhaps his surprise could be considered insulting. When he saw that Wu Ying did not react, the guard relaxed. “You’re pretty good. If you fail, you can always join our town guard. Or hell, any guard. You aren’t horrible with your leg form, and with that cultivation level, you’d make squad leader soon enough. Maybe even lieutenant like me.”
“That’s good to know,” Wu Ying said noncommittally. “How long have you been a lieutenant?”
“Nearly two years now. I was promoted when I reached my eight opening,” Zhong Shei said before his face darkened. “Not that I’ve progressed since then.”
“Well, perhaps if you tried cultivating more…”
“But it’s so boring!” Zhong Shei complained, shaking his head. “It’s always cultivate this, practice that. I want more than that. I want love. Romance. The feel of a good woman in my arms, delicious wine, and better conversation. I’ll break through soon enough. I just need to buy another Meridian Cleansing pill when my next paycheck arrives.”
Wu Ying looked at the rich merchant’s son for a time as he chewed on his bun. A part of him knew he should be angry or jealous at the casual way Zhong Shei discussed buying pills to improve his cultivation. It really wasn’t the best way to do it and not something the son of a farmer could ever hope to do. But Zhong Shei wasn’t arrogant about it. Just matter-of-fact. He seemed to understand the risks involved and took the liabilities on with full understanding. And really, getting upset because the rich could buy what the poor couldn’t was… well, foolish. Or perhaps just tiring. Better to focus on what he could do than burn with jealousy all the time. Wu Ying stood and walked away from the guard.
“Where are you going?”
“To cultivate,” Wu Ying replied with a smile and slight bob of his head, swallowing the last of the bun as he walked to the prow. “Thank you for the snack.”
***
For the next couple of days, life on the river boat grew quiet. When Wu Ying was not training or cultivating, he spent his time fishing over the side of the boat and talking to the sailors. It had taken all of three hours on the first day before Zhong Shei, bored with the lack of entertainment, joined him in silent cultivation and, later, training. Admittedly, the merchant’s son was as likely to take time off to rest, talk, and eat as he was to train, but Zhong Shei did train.
For all that, today was different. Halfway through the morning, the sails were furled and the oars taken out. Wu Ying frowned as Zhong Shei joined the cultivator with a grin.
“Finally! We’ve made it to Ping Zhu,” Zhong Shei said. “We can walk, eat, find some local beauties!”
“We are only here for half a day. Maybe less.”
The ship was only staying long enough to unload their cargo and pick up more for the trip farther downstream. They also had to wait their turn for when the river was clear. The following part of the river was extremely turbulent, filled with small rapids that made it difficult for boats going upstream to travel via oars. As such, river traffic was closely regulated, the ships coming upstream pulled on ropes. Luckily, the vast majority of upriver traffic came at night, when the sides of the river would be illuminated with lanterns and dangerous boulders marked with white paint.
“Ah, but what a half day. I know the perfect restaurant,” Zhong Shei said. “Close to the docks and perfect.”
“This isn’t a good idea. If we’re late…”
“I’ll tell the captain where we’re going. And promise him a meal from the restaurant if he informs us before he has to leave. It’ll be fine,” Zhong Shei said, already ambling over to talk to the captain.
Wu Ying rolled his eyes, though he had to admit the captain was likely to agree to Zhong Shei’s offer. After all, not only were they paying passengers, but Zhong Shei was an important personage. It was unlikely that the captain would leave him.
“I can’t really afford an expensive meal,” Wu Ying admitted when Zhong Shei finally made it back. His purse was quite bare, especially after spending all his funds at the store. While he had a little money left—mostly from his original stash—that was not all his. If he could, Wu Ying would trade it back for cultivation points and return what he owed to Tou He.
“It’s my treat,” Zhong Shei immediately offered.
Wu Ying made a slight face but thanked the man, who waved the matter away. While Wu Ying hated to owe anyone, Zhong Shei had offered. And truth be told, getting off the ship and onto dry land would be lovely. As would food that was not overly laced with salt and soya sauce.
Together, the pair disembarked when the boat docked and they headed into the city. Zhong Shei walked in front, happy to show off his knowledge of the city, detailing little facts about the place. Of course, most of his facts revolved around the guards, the young nobles and scholars who hung around the city between the imperial examinations, and the chasing of various beauties and delicious food. Wu Ying found most of the information bewildering, as Zhong Shei was not a good storyteller, forgetting to provide context or to follow the thread of his own story.
“You should try the duck here… not right now! We’re going to eat fish and prawns at Uncle Mo’s restaurant,” Zhong Shei chided Wu Ying. “Don’t spoil your appetite. We’ll get one on the way back.
“Young master Lu over there is the third child, so he’s actually penniless but with a heavy gambling addiction. Don’t ever play mah jong with him though, he’s very good.
“The rice candy there is famous. I used to buy them when I was younger.
“Miss Peng! You’re looking beautiful as always. Those earrings are perfectly sized for your delicate ears. Are you interested in joining us for lunch?”
In this way, Wu Ying and Zhong Shei made their way to the restaurant. When they were finally neared the restaurant after a good thirty minutes—mostly punctuated by Zhong Shei’s frequent stops—Wu Ying caught a glimpse of a familiar face walking into a side street. He frowned, staring at the figures that streamed in after.
“What?”
“Bandits,” Wu Ying said.
Having made up his mind, Wu Ying turned away from the restaurant and moved toward the side street the bandit group had disappeared down, all the while craning his neck in search of additional members on the main road. Not seeing any, Wu Ying sped up before coming to an abrupt halt when Zhong Shei’s hand landed on his shoulder.
“You can’t just say things like that and disappear!”
“I saw Ji Ang walk into that side street,” Wu Ying said as he shrugged off the hand.
As he turned the corner, Wu Ying spotted the last of the figures that had followed Ji Ang step into the doorway of a bar. Frowning, Wu Ying stared down the street.
“Are you sure?” Zhong Shei asked when he caught up once again.
“Mostly,” Wu Ying said. Even though he’d only caught a glimpse, Ji Ang’s face was not one that was easy to forget. At least, not for Wu Ying.
“And he was walking around in broad daylight?” Zhong Shei’s face grew grim. “Then the rumors are true. He has paid off the guards and magistrate. Come on.”
“Wait. What?” Wu Ying said as Zhong Shei started down the street, hand on his sword. Automatically, Wu
Ying followed his companion.
“How many were there?”
“Seven others.”
“Good.” Zhong Shei stopped when Wu Ying gripped his arm, dragging him to a standstill.
Wu Ying dropped his hand when Zhong Shei shot him a cold look, never removing his hand from his sword’s hilt. “What do you think you’re doing? There are seven of them. You aren’t even a guard here.”
“I don’t intend to arrest him.”
“That’s even worse! You can’t go about killing people.”
“Not people. Ji Ang and his crew. They’re all wanted bandits. They all have a bounty on their heads,” Zhong Shei said. “I will not let him escape. The blood on his hands could wash away Mount Tai[23]! Together, we can take them. His bandits are all trash but him.”
“I never agreed to this,” Wu Ying said, shaking his head. “I’ve got a mission to complete, and fighting him again isn’t part of it.”
“Don’t you want revenge? Does your blood not boil?”
“No,” Wu Ying said.
Zhong Shei snorted, reading the lie in Wu Ying’s clenched jaw.
But the cultivator turned away, moving to the exit before he stopped as a familiar trio of figures blocked it. “How did…”
“Told you I recognized him.” A voice behind Wu Ying made him turn as the remainder of Ji Ang’s group came out with their leader.
“Cào[24],” Wu Ying cursed while drawing his sword. He eyed the edges of the alleyway and grimaced even further. The Long family style revolved around movement, so this was a really bad place for him to display his swordsmanship. Luckily, the Northern Shen Kicking style he had been studying actually had footwork that worked well in such tight spaces.
