by Jin Yong
By this time, Zhang Wuji did not hear the least bit of noise from the five people on the other side of the door. He took a peak from a crack on the wooden partition and saw the Du couple and Ma Fatong, three people, were dipping their fingers on the teacups and writing on the table. "These five people are truly cautious,” he thought, "Although they are convinced that Zhao Min and I are not Jianghu characters, they are still afraid we might leak their plan. Ay, too many families in Jianghu want to seek revenge on Yifu. There are even more people who covet the Tulong Saber. I am afraid there are countless people who want to get their hands on him even before the Duan Yang Festival. These people not only made extraordinary painstaking effort, they are also martial art experts. Yifu would certainly face a catastrophic suffering if Shaolin Temple is somewhat negligent. Looks like the sooner I can save him the better.”
As five people continued their silent, secret discussion, Zhang Wuji lied down on the wooden bench and slept. They woke up at dawn the next day, and saw the Three Swords of Qinghai had already left.
"Popo,” Zhang Wuji asked Yi Sanniang, "Why did those three Taoist masters come here last night with shining knives in their hands? At first, I thought they came here to capture us that I was scared out of my wits. Only later I found out that it wasn’t the case.”
Yi Sanniang was secretly amused to hear him calling the sword a ‘knife’; but keeping a straight face she said, "They were astray travelers; they left after drinking a bowl of tea. Zeng Xiaoge [young big brother Zeng], after lunch we are going to take three bunches of firewood for sale in the Shaolin Temple. Would you help us carry a bunch? If the monks in the Temple ask, I will say that you are our son. This might inconvenience you a bit, but I just want to avoid making them suspicious. Your wife who is as-pretty-as-a-flower, must not go out to take a walk on her own.”
Although she talked as if she was asking Zhang Wuji’s opinion, her tone carried an authority, which did not give Zhang Wuji any chance to say otherwise. As soon as Zhang Wuji heard her, he understood her intention. "She thinks I really am a farmer boy,” he thought, "And she wants me to accompany her scouting the Temple. Nothing can be better than that!” Therefore, he immediately agreed.
"Whatever Popo said, Xiaozi [little child - referring to self] will obey,” he said, "All I ask is that Popo will give the two of us shelter. We have been running to the east and fleeing to the west with fear and trepidation, without a day of peace.”
Right after the seventh hour [between 11am - 1pm], Zhang Wuji followed behind the Du couple, each one carried a pile of firewood on their shoulder pole, walking toward the Shaolin Temple. He wore a wide bamboo hat on his head, a short hatchet on his waist, and a pair of straw shoes on his feet. Among the three, he carried the largest bunch of firewood. With a smile on her face, Zhao Min stood by the door, sending him off with her gaze.
The Du couple deliberately walked slow, huffing and puffing along the way, until at last they arrived at a pavilion just outside the Shaolin Temple, where they put down their loads and took a rest. There were two monks chatting idly in the pavilion. They did not think much of seeing these three people.
Yi Sanniang took off her head scarf to wipe her perspiration. She also reached out to wipe the sweats on Zhang Wuji’s head while asking, "Child, are you tired?”
At first Zhang Wuji was embarrassed, but then he realized that she said those words with genuine affection; he could not help but look in her eyes. He saw tears were forming on her eyes, so he knew she must be thinking of the son Xie Xun had killed. He saw she was looking at him with lingering emotion, apparently she was expecting a reply. He was touched, and said, "Ma, I am not tired. You are tired.”
When he said, ‘Ma,’ he was remembering his own mother, hence, his voice was full of emotion too. As Yi Sanniang heard him call her ‘Ma,’ the dam broke and tears streamed down her cheeks. Instead of wiping the sweat off her head, she used the head scarf to wipe her tears away.
Du Baidang stood up, heaved the firewood and waved his left hand while walking out of the pavilion. Even though he could not hear the two people’s conversation, he knew that his wife was overwhelmed with the memory of their perished child. He was afraid she would expose some weakness and the two monks would see through their scheme.
Zhang Wuji went to Yi Sanniang’s pile of firewood, took two bunches and added them to his own pile, and said, "Ma, let us go.”
Seeing him showing this much consideration, Yi Sanniang thought, "If my child were still alive today, he would be several years older than this young man, and I would have had several grandchildren.” For a moment she was only staring blankly and unable to move. Then, seeing Zhang Wuji walking out of the pavilion carrying his load, she stood up to follow. But because she was still excited, she slightly staggered.
Zhang Wuji turned around to help her, thinking, "If my Mama were still in this world, I would hold her like this .”
One of the monks said, "This young man is actually very filial, which is rare nowadays.”
The other monk said, "Popo, are you going to sell this bunch of firewood to the Temple? These past several days Fangzhang [abbot] has issued an order that no outsiders will be allowed to enter the Temple. You’d better come back.”
Yi Sanniang was quite disappointed; she thought, "Shaolin Temple has indeed elevated their security, then it won’t be easy to go in.”
Du Baidang had already proceeded several ‘zhang’s ahead, but realizing the other two did not follow, he stopped and wait.
The first monk said, "This village family’s mother is a loving mother, the son is filial, we must help them. Shidi [younger martial brother], take them through the back door to the kitchen. If anybody asks, just tell them they are the villagers who used to sell firewood. I don’t think there will be any problem.”
"Yes,” the second monk said, "The Supervisor forbid the outsiders to enter the Temple to avoid casual onlookers. These people are honest and upright villagers, why would we hurt their livelihood?” Thereupon he led the Du couple and Zhang Wuji to enter the Temple through the back door. They dropped the firewood in the kitchen and the monk in charge of the kitchen counted some coins to pay them.
Yi Sanniang said, "We have some nice ‘da bai cai’ [bokchoy, Chinese cabbage], I will send Ah Niu to deliver several catties tomorrow. You don’t have to pay, just consider it our gift to all the Shifus to taste something new.”
The monk who took her there laughed and said, "Starting tomorrow, you can’t come in anymore. If the Supervisor finds out, the blame we have to endure will not end for a lifetime.”
The kitchen manager looked at Zhang Wuji, sizing him up, and then suddenly said, "Around the Duan Yang Festival, we are going to have more than a thousand guests in the Temple. We are going to be too busy to fetch water and chop the firewood. This Xiongdi [brother (general term)] looks healthy and strong. How about you come and help us for a couple of months, and I’ll give you five silver coins per month for your wages?”
Yi Sanniang was delighted. "That’s great,” she hastily said, "Ah Niu does not have anything important at home to do. It will be better for him to stay and do errands for all Shifus, while earning one or two coins of silver to help the family out financially.”
Zhang Wuji hesitated, he thought, "Many people in the Shaolin Temple know me. Once in a while they are bound to wander into the kitchen then I would be in trouble. If I have to live in the Temple for two months, I must avoid going out to prevent being recognized.” Thereupon he said, "Ma, my wife .”
Yi Sanniang thought it was a heaven-sent opportunity, which could never be expected but could only be accepted. "Your wife is fine at home,” she hastily said, "Are you afraid your Mama will mistreat her? You just stay here and listen to the Shifu’s words, don’t be lazy. After several days, Mama and your wife will come to visit you here. You are a big boy now; can’t you get away from Mama for even a day? Do you still want Mama to nurse you and help you urinate?” As she said that, she tussle his hair, with eye
s brimming with love.
Actually, the monk in charge of the kitchen had been upset for many days. Around the Duan Yang Great Assembly, heroes from all over the world would gather there; providing rice and vegetable dishes, and preparing tea were the most difficult parts to be dealt with. Although the Temple Supervisor had allocated more manpower to help in the kitchen, these monks were not in the habit of practicing meditation and Buddhism dharma; they were more interested in training martial arts. Therefore, they were not willing to do menial kitchen works. They went to the kitchen just because the Temple Supervisor told them to; but they carried their haughty attitude in the kitchen, staring a lot at the other kitchen workers, but did not do too much work. By this time, it was still all right, but as soon as they guests arrived, they would be in big trouble. He saw Zhang Wuji was an honest, simple, hardworking villager, so he was determined to retain his service; thereupon he constantly persuaded Zhang Wuji to stay.
Zhang Wuji considered, "I can stay in the kitchen during the day to avoid seeing the Temple masters, while leisurely looking for Yifu’s whereabouts in the evening.” But he was still pretending to drag his feet, until the monk who took him inside also persuaded him, then he reluctantly complied by saying, "Shifu, I want to get six coins of silver per month from you; five silver coins for my Ma, and one silver coin for my wife to buy some clothes ...”
The monk in charge of the kitchen laughed and said, "It’s a deal! Six silver coins a month it is.”
After repeatedly exhorting Zhang Wuji to work diligently, Yi Sanniang slowly went down the mountain with Du Baidang. Zhang Wuji ran after them and said, "Ma, please take a good care of my wife.”
"I know,” Yi Sanniang replied, "Don’t you worry.”
In the kitchen, Zhang Wuji was extremely busy with chopping firewood and removing the ashes, lighting fire and fetching water. He deliberately let the ashes smeared onto his face, and let the
ashes fell on his hair, so that when he looked at his own reflection in the water jar, he could not recognize his own face. That night he slept with numerous kitchen helpers in a little cabin next to the kitchen. He knew the Shaolin Temple was full of crouching tigers and hidden dragons. Oftentimes there were martial art masters hidden among the kitchen helpers. Thereupon, he was very cautious in all aspects, he did not even dare to speak half a sentence more than necessary.
In this way he passed seven, eight days already, during which time Yi Sanniang took Zhao Min to visit him twice. He worked hard from morning till night, and had never refused any task given to him. The kitchen manager monk was very happy. He also got along well with the other kitchen helpers. He did not dare to ask any question, but he opened his eyes and ears wide, trying to find any clues within the idle talks around him. He expected someone would be sent to deliver food to his Yifu, and then he would follow and try to find where his Yifu was imprisoned. Who would have thought that after waiting patiently for several days, he neither found any clues nor heard any news.
By the evening of the ninth day, he was sleeping on his bed, when suddenly around midnight he heard some faint shouting from about half a ‘li’ [1 li is approximately 0.5km] away. He arose quietly, and after making sure nobody else was awake, he launched his ‘qing gong’ towards the direction of the noise.
It seemed like the noise came from the wooded area to the west of the Temple. Leaping up to a big tree, he crouched to look around. After making sure nobody was hiding among the grass around him, he leaped from tree to tree toward the noise. By this time he started to hear clashing weapons; and then he saw several people who were engaged in a fierce battle.
Hiding behind a tree, he saw flickering light from sabers and swords, as six people, divided into two sides, were fighting each other. The three men wielding swords were none other than the Three Swords of Qinghai, who arranged themselves in the fake ‘three-element’ formation, which was actually a five-element formation. Their defense was very tight. Their opponents were three monks, each with a saber in his hand, trying hard to penetrate the defense.
After about twenty, thirty stances; ‘stab!’ one of the Qinghai Three Swords fell by the saber. The fake three-element formation was broken. The other Two Swords of Qinghai were not able to hold much longer. Several stances later, with a miserable ‘Ah!’ one of them was chopped by the saber. Judging from his voice, it was the short and fat Ma Fatong.
The last man’s arm was already injured, but he kept fighting to the death. One of the monks shouted in a low voice, "Hold it!” Three monks with sabers in their hands surrounded him, but did not continue their attacks.
An old-sounding monk said, "Your Yuzhen Guan of Qinghai has never had any enmity or hatred toward our Shaolin Pai; why did you trespass our territory in the middle of the night?”
The last of the Three Swords of Qinghai was Shao He; with grief in his voice he said, "Since the three of us martial brothers have already been defeated, we can only blame our own inadequacy; why do you ask any questions?”
The old-sounding monk said with a cold laugh, "You came for Xie Xun, and wanted to get the Tulong Saber, didn’t you? Hey hey, I have never heard Xie Xun killed anybody from the Yuzhen Guan; so you must be after the Tulong Saber. Based on your child’s play skill, do you think you can wander around the Shaolin Temple? The Shaolin Temple has been the leader of the Wulin world for more than a thousand years; it never occurred to me that some people actually look down on us like this.”
‘Swish!’ Shao He took advantage while the monk was talking happily to thrust his sword straight forward. The monk hastily evaded, but he was one step too slow and the sword pierced his left shoulder. The other two monks from either side of him slashed together with their sabers, Shao He’s head was immediately separated from his body.
Without saying anything, the three monks picked up the bodies of the Three Swords of Qinghai and walked toward the Temple. Zhang Wuji was just thinking of following them to know the outcome of this affair, when suddenly he heard faint breathing from among the tall grass ahead of him and slightly to the right.
"What a close call!” he silently sighed, "Turns out they set up an ambush here.” Immediately he crouched back and remained motionless.
About almost an hour later, he heard from among the grass someone softly clap twice. And then from some distant away someone else also clapped in response. Zhang Wuji saw six monks arose from all around him, each with a weapon in his hand, either a monk’s staff, a saber, or a sword. They walked in a fan-shaped formation toward the temple.
Zhang Wuji waited until those six months were far away before he returned to the cabin. The rest of the kitchen helpers were still sleeping soundly; nobody knew he was away. He sighed inwardly. "If I did not see it with my own eyes, I would not believe three warriors have just lost their lives in a very short moment.” From what he had just experienced, he knew that the Shaolin Temple has set up a thorough security system, far tighter than usual, so he had to be even more careful.
A few more days passed; it was the middle of the fourth month already. The weather gradually turned warm. They were a day closer to the Duanyang Festival with each passing day. Zhang Wuji mused, "If I keep doing this heavy manual labor in the kitchen, in the end it would be difficult for me to find out Yifu’s whereabouts. Tonight I must take a risk by going everywhere to investigate.”
That night he slept until the third hour [between 3 - 5 am]. He quietly got up and jumped to the roof, crouching behind the stony roof ridge. He had just settled down into position when he saw two shadows from the south, light as a feather, swept passing to the north; their monks’ robes floating in the air, the sabers in their hands flicker under the moonlight. They were patrolling monks of the Temple.
After these two monks passed, Zhang Wuji quickly moved several ‘zhang’s forward. He heard footsteps on the tile floor ahead, as two more monks leaped up. He saw shadows of monks going back and forth everywhere. The security was very tight; he thought that even the security inside the imperial palace was
not this strict. Seeing this kind of situation, he knew that if he proceeds, he would be unavoidably detected. Therefore, he decided to return in disappointment.
Toward the third evening, a storm was brewing; thunderclaps boomed and heavy rain poured down from the sky. Zhang Wuji was delighted. "Heaven helps me!” he thought. He saw the rain was getting heavier, everywhere he looked all he saw was total darkness.
Quick as a lightning, he moved toward the main hall, thinking, "The Luohan Hall, the Damo Hall, the Banruo [lit. great wisdom] Court, the Abbot’s lecture hall, are all Shaolin Temple’s most strategic places. I will explore them all one by one.” However, there were so many buildings and rooms in the Shaolin Temple; in reality, he did not know which way was the Luohan Hall, which way was the Banrou Court.
Trying to hide from the flashes of lightning, he wandered aimlessly until he arrived at a small bamboo grove. He saw ahead of him was a small cottage, and a flicker of light coming through the
window. By this time his body was totally soaked; raindrops as big as soybeans hit his hands and face, and bounced back from his skin. Stealthily he crept toward the window, and he heard someone speaking inside; the voice belonged to Reverend Kong Wen, the Abbot of the Shaolin Temple.
Zhang Wuji heard him say, "Because of this Jin Mao Shi Wang, the Shaolin Temple has killed twenty-three people in one month. We are heaping sins on ourselves, contrary to the teaching of Buddha about showing mercy. The Ming Cult’s Guangming Zuo Shi [left emissary of the brightness] Yang Xiao, You Shi [right emissary] Fan Yao, Bai Mei Mo Wang [white-browed devil king] Yin Tianzheng, Qing Yi Fu Wang [green-winged bat king] Wei Yixiao, one after another sent their envoys to the Temple, asking me to release Xie Xun ...”
Hearing this, Zhang Wuji’s heart was reassured, thinking, "Turns out my grandfather [orig. wai4 gong1 - maternal grandfather], Yang Zuoshi, and the others have learned this information and have already sent people to come over here.”
