A Snake Lies Waiting

by Jin Yong

  Lotus clapped at the droll reply. “I dare say the mutts scamper off at the mere sound of your name!”

  “Brother Vigor Li told me how you helped him in Baoying. Most admirable. ‘The sense of vocation is not limited to youth, for, without it, one lives to a hundred in vain.’ It’s obvious why the chief values you so.”

  Guo Jing stood up to thank their guest.

  “I overheard your conversation about Qiu Qianren and the Iron Palm Gang. It seems you are unfamiliar with his reach.”

  “Please, tell us more,” Lotus said.

  “Qiu Qianren’s Iron Palm Gang wields great influence over Jinghu and Sichuan. Its members are not afraid to kill and loot. They used to join with local officials to commit their crimes, but now they bribe the government and play the overlords themselves. Still, all that pales in comparison to their dealings with the Jin. Helping the invaders of their own country? They are nothing but traitors!”

  “That old clown Qiu Qianren is a common charlatan, to be sure, but is he capable of such great and damaging deeds?” Lotus could not link this description to the man she had met.

  “Do not underestimate him. His reputation is fearsome.”

  “Have you met him?”

  “No, but I’ve been told that, for the past decade or so, he has been leading a reclusive life, deep in the mountains, working on his Iron Palm kung fu.”

  “You’ve been fooled. I’ve met him a few times, even exchanged a few moves with him. As for this Iron Palm kung fu—” Lotus broke into laughter at the memory of Qiu Qianren faking an upset stomach just to get away from her.

  “I’ve no idea what game he’s playing, but the Iron Palm Gang’s power is real and they mustn’t be disregarded.” An earnest warning from Surefoot Lu.

  “Brother Lu is right,” Guo Jing said humbly, in case they had offended their guest. “Lotus loves to jest.”

  “Am I jesting?” She bent over, cradling her tummy, as if in pain. “Aiiiiyaaaa, my stomach!”

  Guo Jing chuckled at her impression of Qiu Qianren, but Lotus’s expression instantly changed to one of perfect seriousness. “Brother Lu, do you know the three men who were feasting over there just now?”

  Surefoot Lu nodded with a sigh. “Did the chief tell you about the two factions in our Clan? The Washed and the Unwashed?”

  “No,” Guo Jing and Lotus answered in unison.

  “It bodes ill when a group is divided. The chief has tried everything to bring us back together, but so far in vain. You may have heard that Chief Hong is assisted by Four Elders—”

  “Yes, Shifu has mentioned that before,” Lotus cut in, though she was not going to tell him how she knew—that she had been appointed to be the Beggar Clan’s next leader.

  “I am the Elder of the West,” Surefoot Lu continued. “Those men are the other three Elders.”

  “So, you lead the Unwashed, and they are part of the Washed,” Lotus deduced.

  “How did you work that out?” Guo Jing was full of admiration.

  “Look at what Brother Lu is wearing!” She then turned to Surefoot Lu. “I don’t see why anyone would choose to wear dirty clothes, though. It can’t be comfortable. Why don’t you wash your clothes more often? Then, you could all be the same. No more conflict!”

  “You’re born of wealth! Of course, you find us beggars repulsive!” Surefoot Lu stormed down the stairs before Guo Jing had a chance to apologize on Lotus’s behalf.

  “I know, I’ve offended Brother Lu. You don’t need to tell me off.” Lotus stuck her tongue out. “You know, I was rather worried about you, just now.”

  “Huh?”

  “That he might kick you.”

  “Why would he do that? I wasn’t the one who offended him.”

  Lotus sniggered, baffling Guo Jing even further. A moment later, she heaved a dramatic sigh.

  “Remember the story behind his name?”

  Guo Jing hopped up, fists raised, full of menace. “Are you calling me a dog?!”

  Lotus giggled and ducked before he could tickle her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DANGER AT THE TERRACE OF THE YELLOW EMPEROR

  1

  Guo Jing and Lotus heard yet more footsteps on the stairs and stopped their game. The three Elders of the Beggar Clan who had followed Yang Kang outside earlier approached their table, spread out in a line and bowed.

  The one in the middle spoke first, all smiles and pleasantries. “It is not in our nature to stand by and let such wickedness pass without offering help. The vagrant Lu has marked you for death.”

  He was well fed and portly, and his patched garments could not obscure the airs of one who was born to a landowning family. A lush beard, speckled with gray, framed a smooth face that had never been blemished by the sun.

  Lotus inhaled sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “He refused to sit and share food with you, did he not?”

  “Are you saying he poisoned us?”

  “It is our Clan’s greatest misfortune that a blackguard like him has infiltrated our ranks. He bestrewed your food with a lethal powder concealed under his nails. All it takes is one flick of his finger. Neither god nor ghost could have detected his handiwork. It gives me no pleasure to be the bearer of this news, but the poison has already taken root in your body. In another hour, no antidote will be able to save you.”

  “But why, when there is no bad blood between us?”

  “I would not be surprised if he found some cause to take offense during your conversation. Please, I urge you to take this remedy now. Your lives are at stake.”

  The man produced a small paper parcel of medicinal powder from inside his shirt and shared its contents evenly between two cups, which he then filled with wine. He urged Lotus and Guo Jing to drink up.

  Of course, Lotus had no intention of taking the antidote offered. How could she not be suspicious of a stranger, especially one associated with Yang Kang?

  “We are acquainted with the young lord who came and went only a moment ago,” she said. “Please do invite Master Yang to join us.”

  “Certainly, but the miscreant’s poison is most deadly. If you do not—”

  “I am very grateful for your kindness.” Lotus was being her most gracious self. “Please sit down, sirs, and let’s drink together. I often recall the days when Xiao Feng was Chief of the Beggar Clan. What a hero! The way he fought those wulin masters at the Manor of Gathering Sages all by himself! And how he dispatched the villains outside the Shaolin Temple with the Dragon-Subduing Palm! And, at the Yanman Pass, he even made the Khitan Emperor snap his arrow in a pledge never to invade the Song Empire!”

  The young girl’s knowledge stunned the three Elders.

  Count Seven Hong had recounted these tales of past deeds on Rosy Cloud Island, as they built their escape raft, so Lotus would not be ignorant of the history of the people it was her duty to lead.

  She continued without waiting for a response. “And Chief Count Seven Hong … His Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms are unparalleled in the martial world. I wonder, sirs, how many of the moves have you learned?”

  A flicker of awkwardness passed between the beggars. None of them had yet been granted the chance to learn even one move from their chief—though, Vigor Li, a disciple of Eight Pouches, one level junior in rank, had been taught Dragon Whips Tail.

  Lotus was still not giving them a chance to speak. “You said Elder Lu was an expert poisoner, but, pardon me, his skills could not be more commonplace. Last month, Viper Ouyang, Venom of the West, invited me to taste three cups of his poisoned wine. Now, those were remarkable. I do appreciate your kind gesture. Why don’t you share it between the three of you?” She pushed the cups back at them.

  The smooth-faced man’s smile faltered for a moment, as if he was annoyed that she had refused the tampered wine, but he recovered swiftly. Summoning his most benign expression, he said, “Since the lady has found no cause to place her trust in us, of course, we would not be so impolite as to try a strong
er means of persuasion. We only have ourselves to blame that our goodwill has been thus rejected. Might I ask the sir and lady to hold my gaze and see if you can detect anything out of the ordinary?”

  Their curiosity piqued, Guo Jing and Lotus looked into the man’s eyes, which could only be described as two slits sat astride his fleshy cheeks.

  Two marbles, set in a pig’s face, Lotus thought. Nothing unusual there!

  Yet, at that moment, a glow seemed to emanate from them.

  “Please, sir and lady, please, focus on my eyes. You mustn’t let your sight or mind wander. Now, you feel your eyelids drooping, your head spinning, your body weakening. They are the symptoms of the poison. Yes, poison. Now, close your eyes and go to sleep.”

  His voice was melodious—intoxicating, even. They began to feel drowsy, their limbs heavy.

  A kernel of doubt told Lotus to turn her head, to avoid his gaze, but somehow she found herself unwilling to break eye contact.

  “What a grand lake, and what a refreshing breeze!” the man continued. “Please, my good sir and my dear lady, you shall find rest in the gentle caress of the wind. Let yourself drift off. Allow yourself a relaxing nap. Nothing shall trouble you in the quietude and comfort of sleep.”

  His singsong voice grew more soporific, drawing a series of yawns from the nodding couple. When he was finished, Lotus and Guo Jing were lying face down on the table, breathing softly, in deep slumber.

  2

  Gentle waves, lapping in the distance. a light wind, cooling the skin. Lotus forced her heavy eyes open. The full moon was peeking out from behind the hills in the east, its glow diffused by the evening mist.

  How did it get so late? she asked herself, alarmed. We were having lunch at the tavern a moment ago!

  She shifted her sleep-weary body and realized with horror that she had been tied up. She opened her mouth to call to Guo Jing, but all she could feel was the rough knot of a linen cord prickling her tongue. She knew they must have fallen for the tricks of the well-fed beggar, but what manner of sorcery had he used? Nonetheless, she was relieved to see, from the corner of her eye, that Guo Jing was working to free himself.

  Guo Jing seemed confident that he could rip apart the thickest of ropes using his internal strength. However, as energy coursed to his wrists and ankles, the only response he could discern from his binds was a metallic rattling. They showed no sign of tearing.

  Strips of ox leather braided with cables of steel would not give so easily.

  He drew deeper into his store of neigong power for another attempt.

  Something flat, tapering, and metallic tapped on his cheek. Then it did it again. A sword?

  He tilted his head back and saw two beggar youths standing nearby. There were another two by Lotus. The blades in their hands glistened.

  Lotus, meanwhile, had been trying to comprehend their situation. She could not hope to escape without a good grasp of the surroundings and the people they were up against. She twisted to her side and was stunned by the sight that greeted her eyes.

  She gazed out at the landscape. They appeared to be on some kind of elevation, a hilltop. The water below, shimmering in the moonlight, was partially obscured by a thin fog.

  Are we on the islet Jun Hill, in Dongting Lake? she wondered. How is it possible that we have no memory of the journey?

  She wriggled to face the other way. Hundreds of beggars surrounded a high platform less than a hundred meters away. They were sitting on the ground in complete silence.

  The moon, perfectly round, had now moved higher above the ridge in the distance.

  Today is the fifteenth of the seventh month, she recalled. The Beggar Clan Assembly! If I can pass on Shifu’s message, surely they will obey their own chief. But how do I remove this gag?

  She waited. No one among the beggars spoke. Her patience was wearing thin, but there was nothing she could do.

  Before she knew it, an hour had passed. Her numbed body had started to ache. The moon was making gentle progress in the sky. By now, it illuminated half the platform.

  She thought of Li Po’s poem:

  Brushing lightly the bright lake to reveal the jade mirror,

  Painting with cinnabar and azurite to trace Jun Hill.

  Except that Li Po wasn’t gagged and bound when he stood here, composing poetry! Somehow, she saw the humor of their predicament.

  Moonbeams now grazed the large characters inscribed above the platform: Terrace of the Yellow Emperor. She was reminded of her father’s stories about the great rivers and lakes of China. Legend had it that the Yellow Emperor cast a three-legged bronze ritual cauldron on the shore of Dongting Lake before ascending to the heavens on the back of a dragon.

  * * *

  BEFORE LONG, the platform was fully bathed in moonlight.

  Dok, dok, dok.

  Pause.

  Dok, dok, dok.

  Pause.

  The beggars thumped their sticks into the ground in unison. Sometimes they beat fast, sometimes slow. Some notes sounded high, others low. After the eighty-first strike, silence reigned again.

  Four beggars stood up. Lotus recognized them immediately: Surefoot Lu and the three Elders of the Washed, from the tavern.

  Once they had taken up their positions at the four corners of the platform, the rest of the beggars rose to their feet, crossed their arms over their chests, bowed deeply and sat down again. The men moved as one, in spite of their great number.

  The rotund, wealthy-looking beggar—who had forced Guo Jing and Lotus into their current plight—began: “Brethren, calamity has struck the Beggar Clan. Ruination, indeed! Chief Hong has departed this life, in Lin’an!”

  Not a sound. Only a palpable sense of shock.

  One beggar fell forward. Surging waves of sobs and thuds followed, as grieving men beat their chests and stamped their feet. The cacophony shook the trees and rippled out onto the lake.

  Count Seven Hong was much loved and respected by his clansfolk.

  Tears streamed down Guo Jing’s face, but his cries were stifled by the gag. Now, he understood why they had not been able to find Shifu in the palace.

  Meanwhile, Lotus maintained a clear head. The fat beggar tricked us with sorcery. Why believe him now? He has to be lying.

  “Elder Peng, who was present at the chief’s departure?” Surefoot Lu’s voice cracked as he spoke.

  “Elder Lu, do you think someone would be so audacious as to spread such lies about our chief?” the well-fed beggar shot back. “The man who witnessed the chief’s passing is here with us. Please, Squire Yang, tell our brethren about this tragic event.”

  Yang Kang strode forward to stand before the platform, a green bamboo cane in his hand. His presence silenced the crowd, except for the odd whimper from time to time.

  “It happened one month ago, when Chief Hong was in Lin’an. He became embroiled in a martial contest. Indeed, he was surrounded…” He paused to allow his words to sink in.

  “Who?”

  “Impossible!”

  “How?”

  “He must have been outnumbered!”

  Exclamations rose from every direction.

  A month ago? Shifu was with us! He’s lying! So relieved was Guo Jing that he almost forgot to be angry with his deceitful sworn brother.

  Lotus cursed Yang Kang. He is no different from that old liar Qiu Qianren, spinning tall tales about people dear to me.

  Yang Kang raised both hands to signal that he had more to say, and waited for the crowd to settle.

  “Chief Hong died at the hands of the Lord of Peach Blossom Island—also known as Apothecary Huang, Heretic of the East—aided by the Seven Taoists of the Quanzhen Sect.”

  Yang Kang hoped he sounded convincing. His survival depended on the beggars believing this baseless claim. He had been told by Viper Ouyang that Count Seven Hong’s days were numbered. The Old Beggar could not hope to survive the injury caused by Ouyang’s Explosive Toad kung fu.

  But Guo Jing … He had stab
bed the young man. Left him to bleed dry in the Song Imperial Palace. How come…?

  When Yang Kang had seen his sworn brother very much alive, sitting with Lotus in the tavern, that afternoon, he had panicked. He sent the Elders of the Washed to capture them and dispatch them for good. He knew that, once the deed was done, it would not be long before Lotus’s father Apothecary Huang, Guo Jing’s shifus the Six Freaks of the South, and the Quanzhen Sect found out he was involved in their deaths. He was not worried about the Freaks and their mediocre martial arts. Yet, Apothecary Huang and the Quanzhen monks would be tough to deal with. If he could unleash the full force of the Beggar Clan on them … That should keep him safe, surely?

  The names Yang Kang uttered had turned the air thick with anger and a burning desire for vengeance.

  The men gathered here were notable members of the Beggar Clan and they were all familiar with the martial reputation of the Seven Immortals of the Quanzhen Sect. Apothecary Huang’s name was less well known, since he had not set foot beyond the shores of Peach Blossom Island for years. Still, some of the beggars knew he ranked alongside their chief as one of the Five Greats. If these Masters banded together, it was plausible that even the mighty Count Seven Hong would …

  “Brethren, listen to me.”

  From a corner of the platform, a short-limbed, stocky man spoke. He appeared to be the oldest among the Four Elders, his eyebrows and beard more gray than black.

  Silence followed his request. His authority was clear.

  “There are two important matters at hand,” Elder Jian of the East said, once he had everyone’s attention. “First, we must follow Chief Hong’s instructions in appointing the nineteenth Chief of the Clan. Second, we must come up with a plan to avenge our late chief.”

  “Above all else,” Surefoot Lu cried above the roars of agreement, “we should first honor the chief’s spirit!”

  He grabbed a handful of earth and shaped it into a crude figurine to represent Count Seven Hong. He placed it reverently on the edge of the platform, facing the crowd. Then he prostrated and wailed at the top of his voice. Once more, the beggars bawled at the memory of their beloved chief.