by Jin Yong
Lotus wondered if this miraculous method could help Count Seven Hong. Sole Light was visibly concerned when she described how the Beggar had been injured at the hands of Viper Ouyang, but his response was reassuring: “Your shifu won’t need my help. He can restore himself with this –” he gestured at the text—“all by himself.”
* * *
IN THE days that followed, Guo Jing and Lotus stayed close to Reverend Sole Light, learning from his insights into the final paragraphs of the Nine Yin Manual. Lotus felt stronger with the arrival of each new dawn. One morning, as she strolled arm in arm with Guo Jing by the lotus pond outside the temple, she heard the condors’ cries.
She clapped and cheered. “The gold wah-wahs are here!”
The birds were flying in from the east, and, when they landed the couple were disconcerted to find that there were no salamanders to be seen, the female condor had a gruesome wound on her chest, while the male condor had a strip of green fabric tied around one leg.
Lotus recognized the cloth as her father’s preferred material for his outer robes. It had been ripped from a garment and fastened to the bird in haste …
So, the condors did reach Peach Blossom Island, she said to herself. Could Papa be under attack? Perhaps there was no time to deal with my request. Is that what he’s trying to tell me?
She examined the female condor’s wound as Guo Jing applied a salve to it. It looked as though she had been hit by an arrow, which she had pulled from her breast herself. Whoever had managed to hurt this magnificent creature must have been well trained in the martial arts.
These clues were not enough to give a clear picture of what had happened on Peach Blossom Island, but she knew in her gut that, taken together, they spelled trouble. She wished the condors could articulate what they had witnessed.
Weighed down by foreboding, Lotus and Guo Jing went at once to Reverend Sole Light to take their leave.
“I wouldn’t try to keep you here in Peach Blossom Island’s hour of need, though I do wish we could spend more time together,” the monk said. “Yet, fret not, I don’t believe any living soul is capable of causing harm to our erudite Brother Apothecary.” He sent for his disciples and sat the young couple down, teaching them one last lesson from his lifelong practice of the martial arts.
Two hours later, Guo Jing and Lotus bade the monk farewell, each with a heavy heart. The scholar and the farmer, still weakened by Madam Ying’s poison, saw them off at the temple’s main gate. The fisher and the logger accompanied them all the way to the foot of the mountain, staying with them until they found Ulaan, before clasping the young couple’s hands in a warm gesture of farewell.
* * *
GUO JING and Lotus rode together, back toward Peach Spring, on the same trail as they had taken days before. The scenery had not changed, but their hearts were lighter than when they had last set eyes upon it. Thinking of the great gift Reverend Sole Light had bestowed upon them, Lotus dismounted and knelt on the road, bowing toward the mountain where the monk resided. Moments later, Guo Jing joined her in the dust to express his gratitude.
Then they resumed their journey, laughing and talking, the condors leading the way from high amid the clouds. Lotus was still worried about her father, but she felt reassured by Reverend Sole Light’s words. Whatever had happened, she had faith that her papa’s extraordinary martial prowess would keep himself safe.
“It’s funny to think, we’ve gained something from every danger we’ve faced,” Lotus said. “That old codger Qiu Qianren’s rusty Iron Palm hurt a lot, but it gave us the neigong method concealed in the funny passage at the end of the Nine Yin Manual. Now we know something not even Wang Chongyang could work out, and he was the Greatest Martial Master Under the Heavens!”
“I’d rather know no kung fu, if it means you’ll be safe.”
“Aiiiyoooo, are we learning to sweet talk?” She laughed, though inside, she felt warm and fuzzy. “If you knew no kung fu, you’d just be dead. Any old Iron Palm Gang minion could’ve lopped your head off with a swing of his saber. You’d never get to exchange blows with Viper Ouyang. Actually, no, not even with Hector Sha!”
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t allow you to be hurt again. When I was injured in Lin’an, I didn’t think it was so bad, but watching you suffer … my heart really ached.”
“You’re a heartless beast!”
“Huh?”
“You just said it’s fine for me to watch you suffer, for my heart to ache!”
Guo Jing gave a sheepish grin and touched the tip of his toes on Ulaan’s flank, since he had no response to that. The colt lifted his muzzle high, whinnied and off he flew in a gallop.
They arrived at Peach Spring just after midday. A couple of hours on horseback had proved to be more tiring than Lotus had anticipated. Her flushed cheeks and irregular breathing drove home the fact that her primal power had yet to fully regenerate.
Peach Spring was a very small town and there was only one hostelry worthy of the name, called the Tavern to Avoid the Qin, which referenced Tao Yuanming’s tale about the discovery of Peach Blossom Spring, a forgotten but prosperous community that had found refuge from war and strife by hiding deep inside a mountain for generations, shielded by peach trees.
Once they had sat down and ordered, Guo Jing said to the waiter, “We would like to charter a boat for Hankow. Could you send a boatman here to discuss the journey?”
“It costs a lot to hire a whole barge just for two people. You’d save money sharing,” the man said.
Lotus rolled her eyes and threw a silver ingot weighing five taels on the table. “Is this enough?”
The man bowed apologetically—“More than enough!”—and scurried downstairs.
When the food arrived, Guo Jing realized he should not have ordered wine as alcohol might hamper Lotus’s recovery. He stopped her from drinking and abstained himself, so she would not feel left out. They had barely touched the meal when the waiter returned with a boat-master. It would cost three taels and six candareens of silver to sail directly to Hankow. The price included rice, but not the dishes to go with it.
Lotus handed the ingot over without haggling. The man took the payment with a grateful incline of his head and waved his hands over his mouth, letting out a raspy ahhh sound followed by more exaggerated gesticulations to ensure he was understood. Lotus nodded and signaled back, moving her arms and shaping her fingers in increasingly complex, expressive and elaborate combinations. The mute wagged his head happily at her reply and took his leave.
“What were you two saying?” Guo Jing asked.
“He said he would wait for us to finish our meal, so I told him to use the time to buy a few chickens, several taels of meat, some good wine and other provisions. I’ll pay him back when we go aboard.” Lotus grew up around servants made deaf and mute by her father, and had been conversant in sign language by the age of three.
“I dread to think what would happen if it were just him and me.” Brimming with admiration, Guo Jing spoke through a mouthful of steamed honey-cured fish. The more he sampled this flavorsome dish, the more he wished he could pack it up and take it to share with the gourmandising Count Seven Hong.
“I wonder where Shifu is now,” he said. “I hope he’s coping with the injury. I worry so much about him.”
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs drew Lotus’s attention away. A Taoist nun appeared on the landing. Her slight frame was engulfed in a gray habit, her face veiled by a thin cloth. Lotus could only see her eyes, but something about them—not to mention her gait and her figure—felt familiar. Where have I seen her before? She watched as the waiter took the nun’s order and brought her a bowl of plain noodles.
Guo Jing, by now, had noticed that Lotus was fixated on the newcomer and threw the nun an apparently disinterested glance.
The woman whipped her head away. She must have been watching him … Catching her reaction, Lotus whispered with a giggle, “The nun’s heart is all aflutter. She thinks you
’re very dashing.”
“Stop your nonsense! You can’t joke about that. She’s taken an oath.”
“I don’t care if you don’t believe me.”
When they headed downstairs to pay their bill, Lotus lingered on the landing to steal one last look. The nun, who seemed to have anticipated Lotus’s curiosity, lifted a corner of her veil. Lotus almost cried out but for the nun’s quick wave to forestall her reaction. Then she covered her face again and turned her attention back to the noodles. Guo Jing, a few steps ahead of Lotus, was oblivious to the exchange.
Lotus found the boat-master standing outside the tavern and signaled that he should wait for them onboard since she wanted to buy a few things. The man nodded and pointed at a good-sized riverboat capped with an awning woven with strips of bamboo, but he continued to loiter in the area, making no move to head for the waterfront.
Noting the man’s reluctance to make himself scarce, Lotus led Guo Jing eastward into an alleyway, where they would be out of sight of anyone at the tavern’s doorway, but could still get a good view of any comings and goings. Before long, they saw the Taoist nun emerge, her eyes lingering on the Fergana horse and the condors. She looked around, as if to check if their masters were nearby. Finding no one she recognized, she headed west.
“Yes, that’s how it should be,” Lotus said aloud to herself as she tugged Guo Jing’s sleeve, dragging him in the opposite direction from that taken by the nun.
Perplexed, Guo Jing followed without question.
A few streets later, they reached the town walls and left Peach Spring by the East Gate. Now Lotus marched south, skirting the town’s perimeter until they reached the South Gate.
Realizing they were going in the same direction as the nun, Guo Jing asked, “Are we chasing her? This is no time for games!”
“Who’s playing games?” Lotus chuckled. “You’ll regret not chasing this celestial creature.”
Guo Jing stopped dead. “Lotus, I’ll be cross with you if you keep talking like this.”
“Go on, show me how cross you are.”
Once more lost for words, Guo Jing fell in step after Lotus as she hurried on.
Five or six li later, they at last caught sight of her. They could make out her gray outline, sitting under a scholar tree. But, when she detected their approach, she hurried off down a trail that descended into a valley.
Lotus took Guo Jing’s hand, leading him on in hot pursuit.
“Lotus, if you insist on being silly, I’ll carry you back.”
“Good idea, I’m exhausted. You can follow her.”
Guo Jing crouched down to let her climb onto his back. “You mustn’t tire yourself out. Hop on, I’ll carry you.”
“I’ll show you her face first.” Letting out a peal of laughter, she took off, closing in fast. The nun had also stopped. She turned to face Lotus and waited for her to draw near.
Lotus pounced and threw her arms around the woman, pulling off her veil.
“Lotus! No!”
Guo Jing stopped in his tracks when he saw the nun’s features.
Mercy Mu.
“Big Sister, what happened?” Lotus wound an arm around Mercy’s waist. “Has that louse Yang Kang been beastly to you again?”
Mercy lowered her head, her eyebrows knotted, her eyes teary, her expression doleful.
“Sister,” Guo Jing said in greeting when he caught up.
Mercy muttered a quiet hmm in acknowledgment.
Lotus took Mercy’s hand and led her to the creek. They sat down, side by side, beneath a weeping willow. “What did he do this time, Sister? We’ll make him pay. He played an abominable trick on us too—almost got us killed…”
Mercy’s head remained bowed. She stared at the reflection of her and her friend in the stream. Fallen petals drifted over their faces, carried by the current.
Guo Jing perched on a rock a few feet away, mulling over a series of questions. Why is Sister Mu dressed as a Taoist nun? Why didn’t she join us at the tavern? Where is Yang Kang now?
Sensing the pall of despondence that had fallen over her friend, Lotus fell silent. She would just sit and hold her hand—she would talk when she was ready.
At length, Mercy found the strength to speak. “Little Sister, Brother Guo, the boat you hired belongs to the Iron Palm Gang.”
Guo Jing and Lotus both drew in a deep breath.
“Your riverman has the full power of speech and is known to be one of the most accomplished martial artists in the Iron Palm Gang. He acts mute so you can’t gauge the extent of his kung fu from the timbre of his voice.”
“Well, he had me fooled. He signs so well! This is not the first time he’s played this role.”
Guo Jing had scaled the willow tree the instant he had heard the words Iron Palm Gang. Apart from a couple of farmers working the fields in the distance, there was not another person to be seen in the valley. He now understood why Lotus and Mercy had taken such a roundabout route to meet in secret. It had given them a chance to shake off anyone tailing them.
Mercy heaved a sigh and spoke slowly, as what she was about to say clearly pained her. “After we parted in Baoying, I went north to collect my godparents’ remains and escort them south. I ran into him again at Ox Village, in Lin’an…”
“We know. We saw him take Gallant Ouyang’s life.”
Mercy looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief. How did they know? Lotus gave a brief account of their stay in the secret chamber in the dilapidated inn while treating Guo Jing’s injury, then told her how they had unmasked Yang Kang as a charlatan at the Beggar Clan Assembly.
“He has committed vile and wicked deeds,” Mercy said through gritted teeth. “I hate myself for being so blind. I am cursed that I ever met him.”
Lotus dabbed her handkerchief on Mercy’s cheeks to dry her fast-flowing tears, but she had little sense of the turmoil in her friend’s heart—the regrets, the self-reproach, all originating from her liaison with Yang Kang. Mercy needed to tell her friends all that had happened, to warn them of what was to come, but she knew not where to begin.
CHAPTER FOUR
RAGING RIVER, TREACHEROUS SHOAL
1
Drawing strength from Lotus’s warm grasp, Mercy was at last ready to share her tale. She kept her eyes focused on the flowers floating over water so clear she could see the riverbed.
“I thought he had changed his ways,” she said. “And then the two Masters from the Beggar Clan appeared. They were the men I had helped all those years ago, and they were trusted by Master Hong. They traveled with us to Yuezhou for the Beggar Clan Assembly.
“On the way, he told me that Master Hong, as he breathed his last, had asked him to take over as Chief of the Clan, but that I must keep it a secret. Of course, I found that hard to believe, but part of me was thrilled. I had seen with my own eyes the deference shown to him by Clan members, and, by the time we reached Yuezhou, the idea didn’t seem so far-fetched.
“On the night of the meeting, I stayed behind in the city because I wasn’t part of the Clan. I was so full of hope for the future. I thought that, once he was named leader, he would at last be able to do something great—for our people and our country. And, one day, he would avenge his parents with his own hands. I couldn’t sleep. Everything was finally coming together in perfect harmony. I had never been happier in my life. I eventually dozed off when it was almost dawn, and that was when he jumped in through the window.
“I was still half asleep. I thought he was being reckless again. Then I heard him whisper: ‘Something terrible has happened. We must go now.’ I asked him to explain. ‘The Unwashed refused to accept Chief Hong’s last command,’ he told me. ‘They fought with the Washed over who should be the new leader and many died … I couldn’t stand by and watch them slaughter each other, so I offered to give up the title. But the Elders of the Washed wouldn’t let me go. Luckily, Leader Qiu of the Iron Palm Gang happened to be there and he helped me get away. We have to go now. To Iron Palm Mou
ntain, where we can lie low for the time being.’
“Of course, it wasn’t welcome news, but I thought it was noble of him to step down so he could stop the fighting. I didn’t know if the Iron Palm Gang was a force for good or evil, but, the way he put it, we had no choice, so I went with him.
“When we got to Iron Palm Mountain, we were told that Leader Qiu was away traveling. I started to notice the furtive ways his men crept about their business, and it didn’t feel right, so I said to Yang Kang, ‘You can’t walk away from the Beggar Clan. Why don’t you seek out your shifu, Reverend Qiu the Eternal Spring? He can gather influential heroes from the jianghu to talk to the Beggar Clan and persuade them to select someone well respected in their ranks as chief. By stopping the bloodshed, you will still be honoring Master Hong’s last wish.’
“He didn’t answer me directly and kept changing the subject to our union. I told him off and he got upset. We ended up arguing. The next day, I regretted my harsh words. Although his priorities were misplaced—for he cared more about his private emotions than avenging his parents—he had always been good to me.
“By nightfall, I was so troubled I decided to write him an apology. I tiptoed to his room. I was about to slip the note through a gap in his window, when I heard voices within, so I peered through the opening. There was a little old man in his chamber. Small, speckled beard. He wore an arrowroot shirt and he was waving a palm-frond fan.”
Guo Jing and Lotus exchanged glances. Qiu Qianren or Qiu Qianzhang?
“The man took a ceramic flask from inside his shirt and put it on the table. ‘Brother Yang,’ he said, ‘worry not about your wife-to-be. She may be shy now, but, with a smidgeon of this powder in her tea, I guarantee you shall enjoy nuptial bliss tonight.’”
