Black Dragon, Black Cat

by Brian Edwards

  The daily routine quickly returned to normal. Each day Mao would trek through tiny peasant villages and forgotten mountain passes toward the eternal city of Xiaomei. Each day the heat would grow more repressive as summer approached and she made her way southward. The weight of her pack seemed to grow heavier with each passing week, yet her resolve was as strong as ever. During the rainy final month of spring, she was forced to walk much of the day down muddy pathways and trade routes, with little protection from the cascading showers. At night, she often slept shivering under the low gray clouds huddled up against the trunk of a tree with a sleek blanket thrown over her to shunt the driving rain off her body. On clear evenings, she would lay under the stars next to her fire and imagine what Xiaomei would be like once she arrived.

  On one night, Mao’s fire died out lazily and she drifted off to sleep. During the middle of the night, she sensed in her sleep a strange vibration in the air, and pulled herself to awareness without stirring. She opened both eyes very slightly, and scanned the area around her without moving her head. Off to her left she sensed a movement, and she concentrated her focus on that area. In the darkness beneath the trees, she glimpsed the form of a large hulking beast stalking her in the shadows.

  She watched it closely for several moments trying to decide what to do. She slowly drew the hand on the blind side of the beast toward the fire, and grasped the end of one of the still glowing, smoldering embers that were slowly growing cold. With a blood-curling scream, she threw herself upright and launched the glowing ember at the beast. As it rushed through the air, the heat within the ember stoked it back to life and it burned brightly as it arced overhead through the air. The noise and the fire frightened the beast, which leapt off the ground and tore away in the opposite direction. For an instant, the fire from the ember illuminated the surrounding area, and Mao could see the shape of a giant tiger running off under the trees.

  Mao’s nerves were on edge after the incident, so she rekindled the fire to provide a frightening glow to other potential predators. She warmed herself there for a while, thinking about the words of old Jai-tien: “A soundly sleeping warrior is a dead warrior!” She now knew exactly what he meant. Had she not sensed its presence, the tiger would have sunken its fangs deep into her throat and all of her dreams would have ended there. She lay back down on the ground and eventually fell to sleep, confident that nothing could creep up on her again.

  After several months of her journey, Mao had finally wound through the last high mountain passage to stare down and behold the great ancient city of Xiaomei in the river valley below. Her heart leapt into her throat as she laid her eyes on the city of which she had dreamed a lifetime. The view from above was amazing, perhaps even more magnificent than she had imagined! The city seemed to cover the entire valley, and she could see what must surely be the Grand Palace of the ruler of Xiaomei, the wise Bengui. The gardens of the temples were splendidly dressed with all colors of bright floral species interlaced with small ponds and streams, and covered with arching canopies of trees. There were grand houses with verandas that sprawled over several city blocks, and a large marketplace bustling with activity. The streets were narrow and wound among colorful buildings with ornate and gardened roofs. With a feeling of great excitement, Mao began to run down the path toward the gate of the great city.

  Mao entered Xiaomei through the main city gate, which towered above her and looked to be a thousand years old. It was decorated with imperial dragons that seemed to beckon her inward, drawing her toward her destiny. She began to wander through the narrow streets, but immediately lost her sense of direction among the tall buildings. Being her first time in a city of this size, she had no sense of how to find what she wanted, or even what that might be. So far, she had completely neglected to think about the practical aspects of her stay in the city.

  After some time of wandering around in uncertainty, she decided that she must first find out when the tournament would begin. She stopped on a street corner and tried to speak to a man who was walking by her. “Excuse me, Respected Sir, could you tell me…”

  The man hurried by without so much as glancing at her.

  Mao tried again as a woman approached, stepping slightly into her path as they came together. The woman passed by Mao, pushing her shoulder into Mao’s to clear the path.

  Mao was shocked at this behavior. Were these people really so disrespectful? She could not imagine treating others this way. She looked around her, and noticed that the area she had wandered into seemed different than other parts of the city. It looked dilapidated and dying, as if its luster had worn off many years ago. It was a slum of the city, where the destitute and hopeless gathered to scratch out a meager existence. As she wandered through the streets, she saw hapless cripples and malnourished children, many of whom came up to beg from her, pulling at her shirt sleeves. Old men and women with downturned faces crept pitifully along the dirty, stinking, and garbage-filled streets or sat with drooping faces on dingy doorsteps. Mao had never imagined such sights, and realized for the first time that besides the glitter and wealth of the city, there was also an undercurrent of poverty and despair that lived there. Shaking her head in sadness, she continued on her wanderings in search of information.

  In time Mao’s path wound toward the city center, where obvious signs of prosperity and commercial activity were evident. There were many men dressed in fine clothes congregated about in private discussions. Women in silk dresses weaved in and out of the crowd, each carrying baskets of goods purchased in the nearby market. Mao stopped a woman walking by to ask her a question, but the woman let out surprised gasp and her face contorted into an expression of distaste at the sight of Mao’s peasant clothing. Again, Mao was taken aback at the apparent lack of respect displayed by the city dwellers. At that moment, she felt a slight movement at her side, and turned quickly to find a young boy reaching his hand into her pack. In a startled motion she turned quickly toward the boy, who yanked his hand from the bag and disappeared into the crowd. Again, Mao was staggered in amazement at the workings of life in the city. This was not at all what she had imagined.

  Regaining some measure of confidence, she strode off in the direction from which the women with the full baskets were coming, assuming that this would lead her to the marketplace. She was correct in her assumption, and after a few minutes she found herself in a huge open square surrounded by vendors with carts filled with every imaginable product for sale, from livestock and vegetables to expensive rugs and silk dressing gowns. There was a tremendous noise in the square, as each vendor tried to shout over the others to gain the attention of passing customers. Here the poor and the wealthy met, but only through the course of business transactions: the poor sold and the rich bought. Each buyer and seller would haggle with each other, trying to negotiate the best price.

  The fast-paced bustle of the market place intimidated Mao, but she was determined to find the information that she sought. After approaching several vendors whose eager expressions turned sour when they found she wanted to buy nothing, she chanced upon a wrinkled old woman sitting on a stool in front of a cart full of fresh vegetables. Mao had become accustomed to rejection, so she approached the woman with cautiousness.

  “Honorable Madam,” she said deferentially, “may I ask you a question?”

  The old woman turned her face directly toward Mao, and it was then that she realized that the old woman was blind. The wrinkled old face became even more wrinkled as the old woman smiled and nodded her head.

  “Madam,” Mao asked, “can you please tell me when the Grand Tournament of kung fu will begin?”

  The little old woman cocked her head as if she thought the question was strange. “What interest of that is yours?”, she questioned in a crackly voice. “Is your husband competing there?”

  “No, Madam,” Mao replied, “I have come to compete in it myself.” Mao did not know why she had blurted that out. To this point, she had told no one on her journey of its purpose. She ch
astised herself for this mistake, and made a mental note not to mention it again until absolutely necessary.

  The old woman sat in silence for several moments considering what she had just heard. She decided that the woman standing in front of her must be crazy, but answered the question nonetheless. “It will begin on the first day of the first month of summer.”

  Mao gasped in amazement. That was just two days away! She had barely made it in time! “And where will it occur, if you please?”, she continued.

  Again an odd expression crossed the old woman’s face, but she answered anyway. “It will begin all around the city. There will be several thousand competitors from all over China, and the early matches will be held at many locations. After only thirty-two competitors remain, the rest of the event will be held in the grand stadium at the city center. It will last several weeks from start to finish.”

  “Please, Madam, one more question,” Mao pleaded. “How does one enter the tournament?”

  “In the square in front of the palace will be a station for the competitors to register for the tournament. You must go there tomorrow to enter.”

  “Oh thank you, Honorable Madam!” Mao exclaimed with excitement. She bowed to the old woman, who could not see the gesture through her blind eyes but seemed to sense it nonetheless. Then Hei Mao turned and hurried off toward the palace that loomed above the city. The old woman returned to her business, shaking her head at the delusions of the crazy woman with whom she had just spoken.

  Mao used the palace roof as a beacon to find her way through the city streets to the square. It was ornately decorated with gardens and gazebos, with trellises of vines adorned with brightly colored flowers. As evening was approaching, she found a secluded spot where she would likely not be discovered. There she ate some of what little remained of her food, then pulled out her blanket and quickly fell to sleep.

  The deception

  Mao awoke early the next morning at sunrise after a fitful night’s sleep filled with nightmares and bad visions. She pulled on her sandals and stowed her sleeping blanket into her pack, and then went out in search of the place where the tournament was being organized. After wandering around the square for several minutes, she saw a large open grassy area where many would-be competitors lined up to register for the tournament. She was amazed at the large number of men already waiting there to sign their names, and the diversity of the crowd. There were men of all shapes and sizes, of varying color, and who talked in strange dialects that she could not understand. There must have been a thousand men there already, with more arriving every hour. There was a long table at the front of five separate queues, with five men sitting behind it registering the names of the competitors. Mao took a place at the end of the foremost queue and patiently moved up one by one toward the table.

  Many strange looks did she receive from the surrounding crowd as she stood there, as one stranger after another pointed her out to those near to him. They began talking in strange dialects, sometimes laughing, sometimes shaking their heads, as if trying to figure out why she was there. She began to feel embarrassed and self-conscious, but would not forego her place in line. None of the men asked her what her business was there, and she spoke to no one. In those ancient days, it was not appropriate for honorable men to speak to unfamiliar women without an introduction.

  After an hour had passed, Mao came to the head of her line and faced the man behind the table, Master Long-shun. He was a portly man of five decades with graying hair and a growing belly. At one time, he was a fierce martial artist, but that time had long since elapsed. Yet he still had the fierce expressions of his former self, and his mean countenance and demeanor felt intimidating to Mao.

  Mao stepped in front of the table when it was her turn, and waited for Long-shun to look up. When he did, he almost jumped out of his seat as his eyes fell upon Mao. He rapidly shook his head as if trying to expel a demon. Mao looked him straight in the eyes, the way she had always done her master.

  “What do you want?”, the older man grimaced at her.

  “I have come to compete in the tournament, Honorable Sir,” she replied, remembering to keep her gaze from drifting downward.

  Master Long-shun shook his head a second time. “What did you say?”, he grimaced again, not believing his ears.

  “I have come to compete in the tournament, Honorable Sir,” she repeated.

  “Compete in the tournament? You want to compete in the tournament? You?” Long-shun was becoming red in the face and his eyes were bulging from their sockets.

  “”Yes, Master, that is why I am here!”, she declared emphatically.

  Long-shun put his head down in his hands for several seconds, trying to digest what he had just heard. His blood rushed to his face and burst into a sunset-colored flush.

  “Compete in the tournament? You want to compete in the tournament?”, Master Long-shun repeated in astonishment. “Are you mad? We do not even allow women to watch the tournament, let alone compete in it. Be gone!” This last remark he shouted emphatically, waving his hand in the air dramatically and shaking his head.

  Those in the crowd shook their heads slowly themselves, echoing the master’s sentiment. Some of them snickered amongst themselves, obviously making some snide comments and jokes to amuse each other.

  Mao did not know what to do. She put her head down in shame, and sullenly walked away from the table trying to control the swelling tears in the corner of her eyes and the hot blush of fire raging in her cheeks. She ran to the end of the square and hid under some low bushes where she could not be seen. From there, she could see the long queues at the registration tables growing continually longer, even as the men at the front of the lines signed their names and departed. For a long while, she lay on the ground under the bushes with a great sadness and disappointment, but with each passing moment, her determination grew stronger. Finally, inaction was about to drive her mad, and she made up her mind to go back in line again to register for the tournament.

  This time, however, Mao went to the back of the line on the far side of Master Long-shun to try her luck with another registration official. Again, the men looked at her in amazement, wondering what she was doing there. Fortunately, these were not the same men, as those who had originally seen her had registered already and moved on. Nevertheless, Hei Mao felt miserable at being subjected to this humiliation for a second time, but this was nothing compared to the misery of not trying a second time.

  After another hour had passed, Mao again came to the head of the line and stood in front of the registration table. The official behind the counter shook his head at her. He had already witnessed Mao’s previous attempt to register, and could not believe that she returned to try again. “What do you want, woman?”, he asked in contemptuous voice, knowing what the answer would be.

  “I want to compete in the tournament, Honorable Sir,” she replied.

  The official let out a long, irritated sigh and screwed up his nose. “Did you not hear Master Long-shun, woman? Why are you back here annoying us and making a fool of yourself again? Have you no self-respect? Are you crazy? Why are you back here?”

  “To register for the tournament, Sir,” she replied again.

  The official lost all remaining patience and slammed his hand down on the table. “Enough!”, he shouted, throwing up his arms as if throwing her to the wind. “Be gone!”

  Without contesting the verdict, Mao turned around and walked away from the registration table. This time, however, she did not go back to hide beneath the bushes. She strode purposefully and determinedly to the back of the queue next to the one that she was just in and took her place at the end of the line. Another hour passed, with the same result as the previous two attempts. She then took her place in the next line, and made her way up to the table only to be rebuffed again. Again she attempted to register by joining the last line that she had yet to join; at the end of another hour’s wait, the official there again refused to admit her into the tournament.


  By this time, all five of the officials had had their turns with Mao. They had all watched her throughout the day, wondering when she would give up. Surely she was now faced with the inevitability of the decision. Surely this crazy woman would now go home!

  But again they were wrong. After the last rejection, Mao strode to the back of the first queue she had entered, that which ended at the registration table in front of Master Long-shun. Another hour passed, and she once again stood before the old master.

  Long-shun dropped his head in his hands and before Mao could speak, he said to her, “Woman, why do you persist in this madness? You have wasted the entire day for naught. Please, just go back to your home and stop this nonsense. Pretty women like you should find husbands, not mess around pretending to practice kung fu.”

  Mao ignored this declaration, and said stiffly, “I am here to compete in the tournament.”

  The master dropped his head to the tabletop, and banged it there a few times. Exasperated, he raised his head to look at her, and asked “Woman, what will it take for you to go home to your family?”

  This was the question that Mao had been waiting for, and she had an answer already prepared. “If I can strike you five times before you can strike me, you will let me compete in the tournament.”