A Snake Lies Waiting

by Jin Yong

  Apothecary Huang cried for a while longer, before lifting his jade flute and thumping it against the edge of the boat. Then he began to sing:

  God, who grants life,

  why make us guess how long it lasts?

  Some may live until their heads are crowned white,

  while others do not survive the womb.

  The last tragedy not yet passed

  and a new one is upon me.

  The flower withers, burned dry

  like dawn’s dew.

  The departed cannot be pursued

  but the emotions arrive swift and relentless.

  With skies so far away, so far above,

  to whom may I empty the sorrow that fills my breast?

  At that moment, the flute cracked in two.

  Lama Supreme Wisdom rushed forward and blocked him. “You laugh and cry like a madman.”

  “Reverend,” Wanyan Honglie started, “please don’t—”

  Apothecary Huang’s right hand shot out and grabbed the back of the lama’s neck. He then spun the lama’s body one hundred and eighty degrees, so that he was upside down, before throwing him head first at the deck, crashing his shiny bald pate through the wooden boards.

  Lama Supreme Wisdom’s weakest point was in his neck. All three Masters—Viper Ouyang, Zhou Botong, and Apothecary Huang—had seen that instantly.

  Huang started to sing once more:

  Skies eternal earth enduring,

  man lives but how long?

  Past and future do not feel it,

  yet everything has Time bestowed.

  And, with an emerald blur, he was back on his boat, where he swung the rudder and sailed away.

  Unsure if he was alive or dead, the others rushed to help Lama Supreme Wisdom. They heard a grunt coming from below deck, and, a moment later, a cabin door opened and out came a young man with rosy red lips and white teeth. He bore a jade crown on his head. It was Wanyan Honglie’s son, Yang Kang.

  After the unfortunate disagreement with Mercy Mu, he had recalled his father’s promise of infinite wealth. He had made contact with Jin officials in the north and, with their help, located his father not long afterward, joining him on his journey south. As soon as he saw Guo Jing and Lotus climb aboard, he had slipped down below deck, too scared to come out, and watched the events unfold through a crack in the door. He had remained below during the feasting, listening to their conversations, fearful that Viper Ouyang was an associate of Guo Jing. Only now, after Apothecary Huang’s departure, did he dare to make a reappearance.

  Despite the force of the move and his weak neck, Lama Supreme Wisdom’s strong skull had spared him from serious injury. He was merely a little dizzy. Placing both hands on the deck, he concentrated his qi and, with one push, popped himself out of the hole and landed back on his feet.

  The others glanced at each other in amazement. It was a funny sight, but they felt it would be inappropriate to laugh. Instead, they all looked away in awkward amusement.

  Wanyan Honglie broke the silence. “Son, come and meet Master Ouyang.”

  Yang Kang dropped to his knees and kowtowed four times. It was quite out of character and the others watched in surprise.

  In fact, Yang Kang had been impressed by Lama Supreme Wisdom, back at the Zhao residence, but, having watched three martial Masters cast him around as if playing with a baby, he recalled the humiliation he had felt when held captive at Roaming Cloud Manor by Lake Tai, and the fear that Guo Jing and Lotus might have discovered him helping Wanyan Honglie evade them at the Liu ancestral temple in Baoying. He was acutely aware of the shortcomings in his own martial training, whereas the man standing before him was truly a great. “Father, I wish to call this great man Master.”

  Wanyan Honglie was most pleased. He stepped toward Viper Ouyang and made a quick bow. “My son is fond of the martial arts, but he is yet to find himself a suitable shifu. If sir would deign to honor the request and bestow instructions upon the boy, father and son, princes both, would be most grateful.”

  Who would not want to take the boy as their disciple? thought the others. But Viper Ouyang made a perfunctory gesture of respect by cupping his hands and nodding, before saying, “There is a rule in my school of martial training that a master may only take one disciple. And I already have one: my nephew. I am, therefore, not at liberty to take another. May I beg for the Prince’s forgiveness.”

  Wanyan Honglie did not press him further. Instead, he ordered his men to bring out more food and wine. But Yang Kang was bitterly disappointed.

  “I do not deserve to call myself Master to the young Prince,” Viper Ouyang said with a smile. “But I can give you a few tips. We can talk later.”

  Yang Kang had seen Gallant Ouyang’s many concubines at the Zhao residence. They had supposedly been trained by Gallant himself, but, as they were not considered proper disciples, their kung fu was mediocre at best. Yang Kang was not enthused by Viper’s offer, but he obliged the old man with some polite words of gratitude. He did not know that the man’s nephew was nothing compared to his uncle in terms of learning and skill, and that a few words of advice from the senior Ouyang would be enough to boost his powers and his prestige no end in martial circles.

  Viper Ouyang sensed the young man’s lack of enthusiasm, however, so decided not to mention the matter again.

  As they feasted, conversation turned to Apothecary Huang’s rudeness and arrogance. Lama Supreme Wisdom had done well to fool him.

  “Who would have thought that a master of the wulin could have that little vixen as a daughter!” Browbeater Hou said. He turned to study the lama’s bald head. After staring at it for a while, his gaze shifted down to the rolls of fat at the back of his neck. Suddenly, he reached to seize his own and cried, “Brother! The three of them were using some sort of grabbing technique. What was that?”

  “Keep quiet!” Hector Sha shushed him.

  Lama Supreme Wisdom could not restrain himself any longer. He reached out and grabbed Browbeater Hou’s three horns. Browbeater Hou shrank back and slid under the table. The crowd jeered and clapped.

  Browbeater Hou struggled back to his chair and turned to Viper. “Master Ouyang, you are so accomplished! Can you teach me how to grab the back of someone’s neck?”

  Viper Ouyang smiled, but did not answer. The lama glared at Browbeater Hou, but the latter merely turned to Hector Sha and asked, “Brother, what was Apothecary Huang singing through his tears?”

  Hector Sha did not know what to say. “Who knows? It was just the gibbering of a madman.”

  “They were poems written by Cao Zhi during the period of the Three Kingdoms,” Yang Kang explained. “Two verses lamenting the death of his daughter. Some live long lives, others die before they are born. Why is God so unfair? The heavens are too distant, they do not hear his grief, even if he climbs onto his throne. The pain is so deep that he will soon follow her to the grave.”

  “Truly, the young Prince is a scholar,” Browbeater Hou said. “We are merely rough men of the wulin. What do we know?”

  7

  Apothecary Huang’s heart was overflowing with grief and rage. Pointing at the sky, he cursed the heavens, the earth, the ghosts and the gods for such unjust treatment, for such cruel fate. Then he commanded his boatman to head for land.

  Once ashore, anger took hold again. He looked up to the sky and shouted, “Who killed my Lotus? Who killed my Lotus?”

  The Guo boy. It was him. If it had not been for him, she would never have gone aboard the boat. But he too perished. Upon whom can I vent my anger?

  At once, he recalled Guo Jing’s shifus, the Six Freaks of the South. They are the ones who have killed my Lotus! Lotus would never have met this boy if it had not been for them. I will cut their legs off, one by one!

  Anger gave way to sorrow. He arrived at a small town and stopped to eat, his mind still fixated on how he would find the Six Freaks. They are not great masters, but they do carry a certain reputation, he thought. There must be so
mething that sets them apart. Maybe just a bag of tricks. If I pay a simple visit to their homes, chances are they won’t be there. I must go in the dead of night, take them by surprise. Their families, young and old, must all pay—I will kill them all.

  With large strides, he walked in a northerly direction toward Jiaxing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TROUBLE IN THE PALACE

  1

  Count Seven, Zhou Botong, Guo Jing, and Lotus took the small boat west. Guo Jing sat at the stern with the oar, while Lotus interrogated Zhou about riding the shark. The Old Urchin came up with ever more elaborate suggestions as to how they could catch another such beast, in order to amuse the young woman.

  Guo Jing looked across at Count Seven and noticed that his cheeks were pale. “How are you feeling, Shifu?”

  Count Seven was panting heavily, but did not reply. His pressure points had been unlocked, technically, but his internal injuries were still troubling him. Lotus gave him a few Dew of Nine Flowers pills, which helped with the pain somewhat, but his breathing was still strained. Lotus had received the pills as a present from Zephyr Lu, who had lovingly filled up the ceramic bottle, screwed the lid firmly shut and wrapped it in oil paper so they would not be ruined by water.

  Unaware of the feelings of those around him, the Old Urchin was shouting about how they absolutely had to jump into the water and catch some fish. Lotus cast him a glance to tell him to be quiet and stop vexing Count Seven. But Zhou Botong was oblivious and kept rambling on.

  “But you don’t have any bait,” Lotus said, knitting her brow.

  The Urchin was as childish as his name suggested, but he was unaffected by having someone his junior chastise him in this way. “I know!” he said and paused, before crying out, “I know! Brother Guo, I’ll hold your hand and you lower your upper half into the sea.”

  Guo Jing instantly agreed, out of respect for his elder.

  “No!” Lotus cried. “Don’t listen. He wants to use you as the bait to catch a shark!”

  “Exactly!” Zhou Botong cried, clapping his hands. “When it comes near, I’ll give it a good knock to the head and pull it up. You won’t get hurt. Or, you hold my hand and I’ll attract the shark.”

  “The boat is so small—why are you two causing such trouble? You’ll capsize us.”

  “If only!” Zhou Botong cried. “Then we could have fun in the water.”

  “And what about Master Hong? Don’t you care if he survives?”

  Zhou Botong scratched his cheek, at a loss for words. He paused, then said, “I don’t understand what’s so extraordinary about the Old Venom. You’re a man of experience. How could you be so careless as to leave yourself on the receiving end of a beating?”

  “If you say another word of this nonsense, the three of us will stop speaking to you for three days and three nights,” Lotus retorted.

  Zhou Botong stuck out his tongue, but was finally quiet. Instead, he took the oars from Guo Jing and began to row with force.

  The shoreline had appeared close, but it was almost dusk before they landed. That night, they slept on the beach. By the next morning, Count Seven’s condition was worse still. Guo Jing began to cry.

  “Even if I were to live another hundred years, I would still have to die one day. Boy, I have only one wish remaining. With my last breath, I would like to ask you three to do something for me.”

  “Tell us, Shifu,” Lotus said, with tears in her eyes.

  “I never liked that Old Venom,” Zhou Botong interrupted. “I will get revenge on the snake for you. I’ll kill him.”

  Count Seven smiled weakly. “Revenge is a waste of a dying man’s last wish. All I ask is to have one last bowl of Contrast of the Five Treasures, just like they make in the imperial kitchens.”

  A last meal!

  “That’s easy, Shifu,” Lotus replied. “We’re not far from Lin’an. I’ll sneak into the Imperial Palace and steal a few pots. You can eat to your heart’s delight!”

  “I’d like to try some, too,” Zhou Botong said.

  Lotus gave him a sharp look. “What do you know about good food?”

  “It won’t be easy to find,” Count Seven said. “I hid in the palace kitchens for three months and tried it only once. But the memory of those delicious flavors … Why, it’s enough to make me drool.”

  “I know!” Zhou Botong cried. “We’ll capture the Emperor’s chef and force him to make it for you.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Lotus said.

  The Old Urchin felt very pleased with himself.

  “No,” Count Seven said firmly, shaking his head. “It is a complex recipe that requires particular kitchen implements, a charcoal fire and specific chinaware. Not one bit can be missing, otherwise it won’t taste right. We have to go to the palace.”

  He could see the doubt on their faces.

  “It will be a most valuable experience,” he urged.

  Guo Jing hoisted his Master onto his back and, together, they set off northward.

  2

  Upon reaching the first small town, Lotus sold some jewelry and purchased a small mule and cart, so that Count Seven might rest and recover.

  Lotus and Guo Jing agreed in hushed tones that it would be best to return their Master to Peach Blossom Island, where they, or Apothecary Huang, could take care of him. There, in a locked underground chamber, concealed according to the principles of the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams, which governed the entire design of the island, he could be cured. Their only fear was that, if Lotus’s father caught sight of Guo Jing, he might hound him about the Nine Yin Manual. Were they to get into a fight, it would only agitate their Master. Perhaps it would be better if he were to recover in Lin’an, after all.

  Guo Jing worried that his six shifus would go to Peach Blossom Island to look for him. The quicker he could reunite with them, the better—then he could go with Lotus to meet her father. It would be better to have Zhou Botong with them; he could explain the whole funny story about the Manual and clear up the sorry misunderstanding. Then Count Seven Hong would be able to rest properly on the island. And yet … Zhou Botong was so unpredictable. What if he somehow made Apothecary Huang even more angry? It would not be easy to get him to stick to the plan.

  Before the end of the first day, they had crossed the Qiantang River and were on the outskirts of Lin’an. The evening mist clung to everything around them, blanketing the scene so that they could barely discern the outline of the metropolis in front of them. A lone crow cried through the fog. They decided not to go any farther, but rather to look for lodgings in a nearby inn. In the distance, where the water curved around a mighty bend, there was a cluster of a dozen or so houses.

  “Over there. We can spend the night in that lovely village,” Lotus said.

  “What’s so lovely about it?” Zhou Botong said glumly.

  “It looks like something out of a painting.”

  “So what?”

  Lotus stared back at him blankly, unsure how she should answer.

  “A rather ugly painting. As if the Hoary Urchin had painted it himself,” Zhou Botong said.

  “If you’re asking the heavens to create a landscape just like your random scribblings, I’m sure they could manage that too,” Lotus said with a smile.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. Why don’t I draw something and you ask the heavens to oblige?”

  “Fine. You’ve said you don’t want to stay here, so why don’t you go? The three of us aren’t moving.”

  “Why would I leave without you?”

  By the time they had finished this silly exchange, they had reached the village.

  The village was, in fact, no more than a desolate, run-down collection of buildings, with the flag of a tavern fluttering in its eastern corner. They stopped in front of it and observed the thick layer of dust that covered the two tables standing outside, under the eaves.

  “Hi!” Zhou Botong called out.

  A young woman of about twenty emerged from the doorway. Her hair was
uncombed, but held up with a hairpin made from a twig of bramble. She met the visitors with wide, blank eyes.

  Lotus ordered food and wine, but the girl shook her head.

  “You don’t have food or wine? What kind of inn is this?” Zhou Botong said.

  The girl shook her head again. “I don’t know.”

  “What a silly girl,” he replied.

  The girl grinned. “Yes, my name is Silly Girl.”

  At this, they all laughed.

  Lotus stepped inside and went to look at the kitchen. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs. There was some leftover rice in one of the pots, and a broken mat covered a bed. A shiver went through her.

  “Do you live here alone?” she said, upon her return.

  The silly girl smiled and nodded.

  “What about your mother?”

  “Dead!” She rubbed her eyes, as if pretending to cry.

  “Your father, then?”

  The young woman shook her head. Her cheeks were dirty, and her long nails were black with mud. Who knew how many months she had gone without washing?

  We couldn’t eat any food she made, anyhow, Lotus thought.

  “Do you have any rice?”

  The young woman nodded and carried out a large pot that was half filled with the cheapest unpolished rice.

  Lotus began washing the rice, while Guo Jing went to look for provisions, returning with two fish and a chicken from another house, at the western edge of the village.

  By the time the meal was ready, it was already dark. Lotus brought out the food and placed it on the tables outside, before going in search of an oil lamp, but the young woman merely shook her head. She did not have one.

  Lotus collected some firewood and lit a fire in the hearth, then went in search of some bowls and chopsticks. She opened a cupboard door and a foul stench assailed her nose. Taking a burning log from the fire, she gazed inside and saw seven or eight chipped bowls. Scattered around them were a dozen dead cockroaches.

  Guo Jing reached in and took the bowls.

  “Wash them first, then snap a few twigs into chopsticks,” Lotus instructed.