by Jeremy Han
“And the escape plan?”
“Zhao will tell us when we meet, when the whole team is assembled.”
“And you mentioned not everyone will join.”
“Yes. But who knows? By now, maybe some would have changed their minds.” The Farmer tried to be optimistic. He knew his friend was calculating the odds in his head and did not feel assured of the success rate. He urged, “Get back to sleep. There is no point for us to ponder the ‘what ifs’. Until we meet Zhao, we can only guess, and guessing makes us worried.”
“That is true.” Just as the Acrobat got to his feet to leave, he suddenly clutched his stomach in pain. He sat down again.
“What’s wrong?” The Farmer reached over to his friend; placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“My bowels...damn!”
Fu Zhen chuckled. It was rare for him to express himself so audibly. “It is the hot soup. The spices are playing havoc on your digestive system.”
“Is that so?” The Acrobat’s words crept out between clenched teeth. “How do you know?”
“The first time I ate it, it had the same effect on me. Be thankful you’re in an inn now. Imagine me in the field.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s part of the fun.” Another grin.
“You bastard!” And the Acrobat ran off.
The toilet was a separate chamber on the ground floor. It was a small rectangular building with an uncovered entrance. Inside the toilet were several sloping troughs that allowed gravity to pull the faeces downhill into buckets that will be removed later. At such a late hour, the amount of waste accumulated throughout the day was enough to fill the chamber with an excruciating stench. Thankfully, the cold wind had extinguished the candle inside and the room was in pitch darkness. Otherwise the Acrobat would have been able to see how much filth there was. He pinched his nose with one hand and deftly tried to undo his pants with the other. He managed to do so and then he squatted down, sighing with relief.
And then a scream shattered the night peace.
THIRTY THREE
The little girl wrapped her arms around her legs. A cloak, given to her by her captors, covered her, so at least the chill in the dungeon did not bite too badly. However, the coldness was from within. She was slightly more than ten, a young tender age. She had been taken away from her home two weeks ago and locked in this strange place. At first, another young girl shared her cell and then she was taken away and never seen again. She could not help but wonder what happened to her companion. She had tried to speak to her but the young girl was hysterical. Then one day later, she was taken away, dragged away screaming about not wanting to be eaten. Her captors were not cruel. They fed her and cleaned her cell, removing the sludge bucket regularly. Some of them even looked at her with something akin to sympathy. She tried to speak to them, asking them why was she held? She had done nothing wrong and wanted to go home. Her parents were waiting for her. But they shook their heads and walked away, not looking at her.
So she waited and waited, hoping someone would tell her what she did wrong and had to be locked up. She cried and cried, but realised that crying was not going to help. The people who came were not unsympathetic; they look helplessly at her, as though they wanted to help but could not. She thought back to the day she was taken. Her parents seldom allowed her to wander, often scaring her with stories of children being taken off the streets, kidnapped and never to be seen again. Sure enough, she had heard the occasional story of children disappearing but she grew up in this city and knew every nook and cranny. She had never thought it would happen to her. She was just, like any child approaching teenage, eager to have a little freedom. So one day she volunteered to help her mother take a packet of rice to her aunt’s place not too far from their home. But along the way she took a detour to buy some sweet meats with the money she had saved. One street turning led to another but still she was familiar with the area, waving to the familiar faces she met until she reached a part of the city where no one knew her. Then she felt truly free.
After she bought her sweet meats, she started back in the direction she came from. She entered a side street thinking it would connect her to the main thoroughfare that would lead her to her aunt’s place, but found out that it led to another road which looked strange to her. It was then that she noticed someone coming towards her. Her body language told the man that she was lost and it attracted him like a predator to a prey that was unable to decide what to do. When no one was looking he covered her head with a sack and dragged her off. He was strong and was able to hold her in a way that immobilised her even as she tried to kick and bite him. Soon she lost consciousness and when she woke up, she found herself in the cold and unforgiving dungeon. The guards who handled her gave her a look that was both sorrowful and ashamed. As she rubbed herself to ward off the cold, she wondered again what her fate would be, being locked up here alone with no one to speak to.
THIRTY FOUR
There was no way a father would mistake his child’s cry. The Acrobat leapt and in a moment all his discomfort was forgotten. His hands knotted his trousers as he dashed out of the sanitary chamber into the courtyard where he could see clearly what was happening. Men clad in black were running out of his room. Li Po was tied up and trussed over the shoulder of one of them and they were racing down the stairs to leave the inn. The Acrobat’s fury exploded and he charged. Some of the men saw him coming and turned their attention to him, drawing their weapons. Broad swords flashed in the dark as they came at the enraged father. They descended the stairway to intercept the former imperial bodyguard turned street performer. Instead of dashing up the stairs, the Acrobat executed a perfect jumping back-hooking kick aimed high. It caught the ankle of the first man just as he almost reached the Acrobat, shattering the bone with an audible crack. The downward pressing weight of the man was too heavy for the broken bone, so with a cry of pain, he fell forward. He landed just in front of the Acrobat in an awkward manner, unbalanced, and the Acrobat drove his fist straight into his face.
The other assailant slashed at the Acrobat. The Acrobat ducked and scooted to the side just as another man arrived and attacked him from the other side. He ducked and dodged in an erratic and seemingly unbalanced way that threw his attackers off guard and when he seemed off balanced in his strange and awkward steps, he attacked. He leapt like a monkey and struck the man in the face, chest and groin in a series of rapid punches before jumping up and clutching onto his torso, before allowing gravity to drag both of them down. He threw his victim in a flip before somersaulting away to dodge the downward swipe of a blade. He rolled and got up on his feet again in the classic fighting stance of the Monkey Fist: both legs bent facing left at an angle, shoulders seemingly slumped forward and stomach tucked in with both hands thrown forward pointing downward, right in front of left. He twitched his head as though flies were irritating him before staring straight at the man who now stood between him and the other kidnappers who were running away. He decided not to wait and he started to prance, half jumping half crawling, his hands touching the floor like an ape before he lashed out in a foot sweep. The black-clad man took a step back and tried to counter by slashing his weapon downward, but the ‘monkey’ was no longer there; he had rolled away. But instead of standing up on his feet, he stood on his hands and kicked hard with his legs. This unexpected move caught the man squarely in the jaw and he staggered backward. Without even standing up, the Acrobat leapt using his powerful arms and did a somersault to close the distance and kick him again once in the chest and then as he landed on his foot, executed another vicious spinning kick to his face. The man’s jaw snapped and he fell unconscious to the ground.
The Farmer had heard the fighting and dashed to his friend’s aid. He was trying to intercept the men trying to leave with Li Po but they were putting up a fight to protect their prize. The Farmer faced an assailant who charged him with a slashing broadsword; a classic infantry sword attack. He was a big man and his blow
would have been very powerful. Fu was unarmed and much smaller. There would be no sense in blocking the heavy blow or to engage it. He timed his move perfectly; just as the blade’s swing reached him, he ducked and moved forward with a little side-step so he turned up behind the first attacker and straight into the path of the second. The second attacker had not anticipated this and was completely taken by surprise as the Farmer turned up right in his face and attacked him with two open-palms. The palms soft and relaxed, so that they can be brought up fast and unnoticed and then suddenly, just before the point of impact, turn hard and fast, striking deeply into the torso of the man, driving his energy into his enemy’s internal organs to cause internal bleeding. The Farmer continued to move forward with his feet gliding over the ground gracefully as he knew that to stop would be to allow the first attacker, now behind him, to strike, so he allowed his forward movement to continue, pushing the man he struck until he fell. Then the Farmer spun around to face his other attacker.
The man attacked with a thrust and the Farmer dodged. He ducked another sweep of the blade and acknowledged that this man had more skill than the one he had taken out. He lifted his leg to avoid a low cut then he danced lightly passed the man. No more fooling around; he attacked. Feet sliding quickly left and right until he was close by, he lashed out with a palm that missed the swordsman as he ducked. Not bad, thought the Farmer. And then the swordsman retaliated with a downward cleave; and he moved inward toward the blow. His fist came out and struck the forearm holding the sword; it was a blow to throw the arm off balance and not to hurt him then he moved forward with a chop to the neck at an angle so that when the assailant tried to use his other hand to push the Farmer away instinctively, the smaller man could tilt the angle of his elbow downward and prevent his pushing hand from coming up. From this position, the Farmer’s left arm seized the man’s sword arm that was still moving downward and clasped his neck with his right and used his momentum to throw him forward and face first into the ground.
The man rolled, dropped his sword and got up. He attacked with a high kick, hoping to use his height advantage against the shorter man, but the shorter man knew how to apply the principles of distances more intelligently; the shortest distance between two people is a straight line without any angulations, and he executed his own kick, aiming low and straight into the thigh of the lifting leg -- just next to the hip joint, effectively jamming the kick even before it became fully developed. Then he moved in, gliding sideways so that his elbow rammed hard into the man’s solar plexus as the man tried to regain his balance and he fell gasping for air. He tried to get up but his face met the Farmer’s unyielding palm and he went down colder than the frigid winter air. The Farmer looked up just in time to see the man carrying Li Po exit the door and the Acrobat running after him. He followed.
The man carrying Li Po was prepared. He jumped onto a horse teetered to a tree and slashed the rope, Kicking the horse hard, the animal ran. The heavy footsteps of the beast echoed across the quiet streets as the horseshoes struck the road. The silence broke like glass as the horseman urged his steed to run faster and faster as he saw the determined stride of his pursuers. The Acrobat ran with all his might. He was extremely fit and well-conditioned from his years of training and living using his skills. At some point he seemed to gain, but the rider would smack the hide of the horse and the animal would put in a burst of speed that took them further apart. But there was no way a man could out run an animal several times stronger and soon the distance became larger between them and the echoes became softer.
Still the Acrobat refused to give up. Li Po was all he had left, and he would kill or die to save her. So when the powerful arm grabbed him as he turned a corner, he struck back with a lightning-fast fist with all his might. The unseen attacker blocked the blow but did not retaliate. It prompted the Acrobat to launch another series of vicious attacks; all of them aimed at vital spots as he grew impatient. He wanted to neutralise this threat and continue to pursue the horseman. His attacker dodged and ducked out of the way skilfully, grabbed him again in a restraining move. But this time, he whispered urgently,
“Li Jing! Stop! It’s me!” The Acrobat swung around and looked carefully toward the familiar voice calling his name. He could hear the Farmer’s footsteps approaching fast and had to decide whether to attack again when he recognised Long Wu. Long face was not masked like the attackers and he had a look of urgency.
“Stop. It’s me. The Commander sent me to bring you in.”
“My daughter! He got my daughter!” The Acrobat, known also as Li Jing shouted. The Acrobat was unmoved by what Long said. He dashed forward again and ran. Long looked at the Farmer and the two of them followed the desperate father. A short distance later, they heard the sound of running feet and shouts.
“Soldiers!” Long Wu said to the other two. “We got to go!”
“No! My daughter. I have to get Li Po back.”
This time it was the Farmer who restrained the Acrobat. “Listen to him man! Let’s go. We can’t fight the entire garrison. Lets meet the commander, he’ll find a way. We are strangers here and could neither find our way nor explain why we are here. It’ll be worst for Li Po if we get captured.”
Long urged, “We’ve got local contacts who can tell us where they will take her to. We’ll organise a rescue. Come on!”
He had no choice. When he saw Long beckoning him to follow, he took one last long glance at where Li Po had gone and then gathered all his willpower to follow Long and the Farmer in the opposite direction of his daughter.
THIRTY FIVE
Dawn. Soldiers queued up at the cook house to collect their bowl of steaming hot rice gruel for breakfast. They used the standard brown bamboo containers every soldier had. Each soldier collected a scoop of porridge, a meat bun and a warm mug of tea before they trudged out the way soldiers around the world all do early in the morning. Other men went about in their work details to perform the dozens of menial tasks needed to keep an army camp going. Section commanders ordered men around with shouts that sounded too loud for a cold, depressive winter morning. The facial expression of the soldiers conveyed the fact that many did not wish to be here. Some men were carrying hay to the stables, others cleared the snow and ice that covered the camp grounds while the least fortunate ones, those who must have committed some kind of offence, heaved tubs of night soil from the barrack toilet and disposed it somewhere Ji Gang did not wish to know, or a man of his station did not have to know. The commander of the Eastern Depot stood and observed the rituals of camp life play out before his eyes without noticing or caring. He had no wish to eat the swill that the third rate soldiers were having for breakfast. He chastised himself as he realised that he had gotten used to food served in the quarters of the elite Dong Chang. His status had earned him food that no foot soldier would ever taste. While he told himself not to forget his roots, he did not bother to head out into the cold to the cookhouse. He was not hungry for another reason; his stomach was bloated with frustration. Since the massacre at the temple, he had been at a loss what to do. He knew he must do something, but somehow the knot in his gut just would not loosen. Sometimes he felt as though someone had put an iron vice on his head as he tried to figure out what he needed to do next in this eighteen year game of chess against the plotters who engineered Jian Wen’s escape. Sometimes it irritated him more when the pain in his head brought back subconscious memories of Zhao’s fingers on his crown. It made this chase personal.
His gut feeling told him they could not be far, but even the area they were in was vast. And the trail was cold and forgotten. Daily he sent out his men to find out as much as they could; any lead would do. So far, nothing. As he wondered what order should he give this day that would narrow down the search, his alert eyes caught movement. The gate opened and a group of men came in. At first, Ji thought it was the changing of guard; a routine occurrence at any camp. But the men coming in were not in the tan-brown uniform of the Ming soldiers. They were in black.
Some carried swords, some did not. All appeared hurt. Some helped their comrades along as they came back. Some soldiers came forward to help them to the medical hall to seek treatment. The spectacle before him broke the spell of his brooding and he realised something unusual had happened. He turned and signalled to his men, and then he walked out into the falling snow toward the medical hall. The rest of his men followed dutifully. They looked at each other trying to find an answer but could not. All of them looked to An Deli, the next most senior man but he could only shrug his shoulders.
The daifu ‘doctor’ went about his chores urgently checking the wounds and injuries, applying medicine and dispensing advice. Ji Gang waited until he had finished before he stepped forward. He had great respect for the doctors in the military; he had seen many lives saved; people he knew, from death by these unassuming and busy men. So he waited. The doctor looked at him quizzically; Ji was a stranger to him so what business could he have here? The commander took over, addressing the wounded men,
“What happened?” He stood with his arms crossed waiting for an answer.
The men in black looked at each other, not knowing who he was and not knowing what to say, and whether to speak. Then Ji’s loud, booming voice echoed across the room,
