Flying Fox of the Snowy Mountain Chapter 9 – Part 1

The Flying Fox of the Snowy Mountain, Hu Fei, had agreed with Manor Master Du Ximeng of Jade Brush Peak on Wulan Mountain¹ to come up the peak on the fifteenth of the third month and settle an old account between them. On that first ascent the manor master had been away and had not yet returned, and Hu Fei had instead spent a while trading verse and song with Miao Ruolan. He had come down again with his heart in disorder. What his eyes saw seemed to be nothing but Miao Ruolan's lovely figure. What his ears heard was nothing but her qin² and her singing. In the cave he ate his fill of dry rations with Ping Asi and the Twin Children of Left and Right, and it eased him greatly to see that Ping Asi's wounds, grave though they were, would not cost the man his life. He lay down on the ground and shut his eyes to rest. But the moment they closed, Miao Ruolan's face, fair and gentle and refined, rose in his mind clearer than ever.

Hu Fei opened his eyes wide and gazed at the black rock wall of the cave, and still Miao Ruolan’s song seemed to seep faintly out of the stone. He let out a long breath and thought, Why do I keep thinking of her? Her father is the great enemy who killed my own. Even if he did not intend it at the time, my father died of it all the same. I have been alone and friendless my whole life, with neither father nor mother, and I have her father to thank for every day of it. Why should I think of her at all? The thought left him seething. Yet before he knew it he was thinking again, She had not even been born then. What has a feud of the last generation to do with her? Ah! She is the daughter of a great house, and I am a luckless wanderer of the jianghu.³ Why go looking for grief where there is none? When she was small, her father put her into my own hands and asked me to keep her safe.

And at that thought, in spite of himself, his heart filled once more with warmth. Hu Fei lay in the cave for nearly a shichen,⁴ his thoughts dwelling on nothing but Miao Ruolan. Occasionally a darker notion surfaced: Could my enemies, afraid they are no match for me, have laid this beauty-trap? But at once he felt the thought profaned her. She was like an immortal maiden. How could she stoop to something so base? He could not insult her with such suspicions. As dusk gathered, he could contain himself no longer.

“Fourth Uncle, I’m going back up the peak. You rest here.”

He unleashed his qinggong⁵ and in moments stood once more beneath the peak, hauling himself up the rope. The sight of the Du Family Manor’s gate set his heart hammering against his ribs. He entered the great hall, but no one came to greet him. Strange. He called out in a clear voice, “This lowly one, Hu Fei, seeks an audience. Has Manor Master Du returned yet?” He asked several times. No answer came. He smiled faintly. Du Ximeng styles himself a magnate of Liaodong, yet he skulks and hides, playing at ghosts and spirits. Lay what traps you will. What has Hu Fei to fear?

He sat a while in the hall. He had meant to leave a few cutting words to shame Du Ximeng before descending the peak, yet something held him here, reluctant to leave. He wandered to the east side hall and pushed open a door. The room was lined with books on every wall, the furnishings spare and elegant. He stepped inside, took a volume from a shelf, and sat to read. He turned the pages, but not a single character entered his mind. One thought repeated itself: Where has she gone? Where has she gone?

Night fell. He drew a huozhezi⁶ from his sleeve and was about to light the candle when he heard a faint, soft crunch crunch from the snow east of the manor. His heart stirred. A master was approaching, treading the snow with the lightest footfall. On solid ground, anyone could walk in silence, but in deep snow there was no deception. A skilled man’s steps fell light and nimble, an unskilled man’s heavy and dragging. One could tell at once.

Let me see who comes, he thought. He tucked the huozhezi back into his robe and listened.

More footsteps in the snow, each pair belonging to someone of considerable skill. He counted five arrivals. Then three claps sounded faintly from far away, and three claps came in reply from outside the manor. Soon after, six more people had joined them. Hu Fei was bold in his art, but hearing so many masters converging, eleven in all in the blink of an eye, even he felt a flicker of unease. Getting out of this manor comes first. They have called in so many helpers that I am bound to be outnumbered. I must not think too much of myself and slight the heroes of the world.

He left the side hall and was about to scale the roof when he heard the crunch of more footsteps above. He drew back into the room at once and made out seven more fighters on the roof. Someone on the roof clapped three times, and three claps answered from outside. The seven dropped lightly into the courtyard and walked straight towards the side hall. Against so many enemies he would have to win by cunning, not strength. He had expected Du Ximeng to call in helpers, but not so many. As the seven neared the door, he slipped behind a small folding screen in the room, determined to learn their plan before making his move.

With a soft puff, someone outside struck a huozhezi alight. The screen could not hide him. His gaze swept the dim room and found a bed with gauze curtains hanging low, no shoes before it, plainly unoccupied. He drew a breath, stepped lightly to the bedside, lifted the curtains, sat on the edge, and slid beneath the covers. The whole business was done so silently that not one of the seven masters outside perceived it.

But as Hu Fei slid beneath the quilt, his hand brushed skin, soft, smooth and yielding. A woman lay in the bed. He would have leapt out at once, but firelight flickered in the room. Someone had entered. A man held a candle behind the screen and peered about.

“No one here. We’ll talk in here.” He sat at the table.

Hu Fei’s nostrils were filled with a delicate fragrance, the same scent he had breathed when singing with Miao Ruolan. His heart nearly burst from his chest. Could it be — is this Miss Miao? I have committed an unforgivable offence against her. But if I jump out now, they will see us in the same bed and imagine the worst. Her reputation would be ruined for life. I must wait until they leave, then apologise.

He shifted slightly. The back of his hand touched the woman’s upper arm, soft and bare, as though she wore nothing at all. He jerked his hand back in alarm. In truth, Tian Qingwen had stripped Miao Ruolan of her outer garments but left her inner clothes on. Yet Hu Fei, convinced she was naked, dared neither look nor stir, and drew himself as far to the edge of the bed as he could, eyes squeezed shut.

Even with his eyes closed, the sweet, intoxicating perfume filled his senses, and he could hear her heart beating fast. Against his will, he opened his eyes.

A young woman lay facing towards him, her cheeks flushed pink as a begonia blossom. Who else could it be but Miao Ruolan? Candlelight filtered through the gauze curtains and fell across her face on the pillow, so lovely, so radiant, that no words could capture it.

He meant to look only once, then close his eyes and never look again. But the moment his lids fell shut, desire surged through him and he could not hold. His eyes opened a sliver once more.

Miao Ruolan lay paralysed by the dianxue⁷ technique, unable to move but still aware. When Hu Fei suddenly climbed into bed beside her, her first terror was that he meant to violate her. She shut her eyes tight and resigned herself to Heaven’s will. But after a moment he did not draw closer. Instead, he shifted away. Her fear eased. Curiosity overcame it. She opened her eyes a fraction, just as Hu Fei opened his to look at her. Their gazes met, less than half a foot apart. Both burned with shame.

---

A voice came from beyond the screen: “Commander Sai, your schemes are truly beyond mortal reckoning. Even if that man really is the hero who has fought all under heaven and found no equal, once he falls into your net, he will not fly out.”

The man holding the candle laughed aloud. He set it down on the table and walked past the screen. “Brother Zhang, don’t flatter me so. When the deed is done, I won’t forget what everyone has contributed.”

Hu Fei and Miao Ruolan heard their words and both started. These men had plainly laid a trap to ambush the Golden-Faced Buddha, Miao Renfeng.⁸ Miao Ruolan knew nothing of the jianghu and took little alarm, trusting her father’s matchless skill. But Hu Fei knew that Commander Sai, Saihetu,⁹ was the foremost fighter in all the Manchu domains, his neigong¹⁰ and waigong¹¹ alike refined to perfection, a man of savage cunning who had destroyed countless loyal subjects in his time. He served as the Qianlong Emperor’s¹² most trusted bodyguard, and had now come in person from Beijing to Jade Brush Peak. Judging from Brother Zhang’s words, they had laid an elaborate scheme. Formidable as Miao Renfeng was, he could hardly escape their clutches.

As Commander Sai stood at the side hall’s doorway, Hu Fei saw his chance. He lifted the gauze curtain, flicked his palm towards the candle, and a gust of force shot across the room. The flame died with a hiss.

“Ah, the candle’s gone out!” someone said. More men filed into the side hall, calling out: “Light another! Bring lamps!”

Commander Sai said, “Better we speak in the dark. Miao Renfeng is sharp. If he sees lamplight from outside, the fish on the hook may slip the line again.” Several voices agreed: “Commander Sai’s foresight is extraordinary, as always.”

The screen was pushed aside with a soft creak. The side hall was now full of men, some sitting on the floor, some perched on the table, and three on the very edge of the bed. Hu Fei feared they might lean back and tumble onto the covers, exposing everything. He edged deeper into the bed, drawing closer still to Miao Ruolan. Her breath brushed his face like orchid-scented wind. He was terrified of jostling the three men on the bed’s edge and ruining Miao Ruolan’s honour, and terrified no less that his own bristling beard might scratch that impossibly delicate cheek. He made his decision: if discovered, he would kill all eighteen men in this room. Better to lose his own life than leave a single one alive to bring disgrace on this maiden, pure as ice and jade.

The three men sat still and did not move. Hu Fei did not know that Miao Ruolan’s acupoints¹³ were sealed and she could not shift at all. He only felt that she did not draw away towards the inner edge of the bed. Terror and joy warred in him, and he felt as though he were floating among the clouds.

---

“Gentlemen,” said Commander Sai, “let us have Manor Master Du introduce us properly.”

A low voice spoke: “I am honoured that you have all graced my humble home with your presence. This is Lord Sai, Commander of the Imperial Guard. His name, of course, needs no introduction to gentlemen of the jianghu.” The speaker was Du Ximeng, Manor Master of Jade Brush Manor. A murmur of polite compliments rippled through the room.

Hu Fei listened as Du Ximeng went through the names, and his astonishment grew with each one. Apart from Commander Sai and his six fellow Imperial Guards, every man was a renowned master of the first rank. Great Master Xuanmingzi¹⁴ of the Qingzang School had come. Adept Lingqing¹⁵ of Kunlun Mountain had come. Old Fist Master Jiang¹⁶ of the Wuji School in Henan had come. The rest were each a zhangmen or celebrated elder of some school, the chief helmsman of some society or the chief escort of some Armed Escort, not one without formidable standing. And the seven Imperial Guards were all hardened fighters already famous in the wulin.¹⁷

Miao Ruolan’s thoughts churned. I am wearing almost nothing, lying in his arms. This man’s family and mine are bound by feuds and debts. What will he do with me? When we first met today, he seemed rough in appearance but cultivated in both letters and arms, a fine man. And now he dares treat me so shamelessly. Yet though she felt his conduct was deeply wrong, she found, to her bewilderment, that no anger rose in her. Instead, a faint, unbidden warmth stirred in her chest. The loud talk of a dozen men outside the curtain fell unheard on her ears.

Hu Fei was ten years her senior and longer in the world. He knew the gravity of what surrounded them. Though shock and delight left him scarcely master of himself, he attended to every word beyond the curtain. Du Ximeng named each man in turn. By the sixteenth name, Du Ximeng stopped.

Hu Fei thought, There are eighteen men outside the curtain. Leaving out Du Ximeng, there should be seventeen. Who is the one left over? The same thought had struck several of the more attentive men in the room. “And who is the last?” someone asked. Du Ximeng did not answer.

After a long pause, Commander Sai spoke: “Very well. I shall tell you all. The last is Guild Chief Fan of the Xinghan Beggars’ Guild.”¹⁸

A ripple of surprise passed through the room. One or two of the better-informed knew that Guild Chief Fan had been captured by the authorities. Others knew that the Beggars’ Guild had always been the foe of the imperial government and would never ally with Imperial Guards. His presence here, on this peak, was deeply strange.

Commander Sai said, “The matter stands thus. You gentlemen accepted Master Du’s invitation to come up the peak and lend your strength against the Flying Fox of the Snowy Mountain. But before we catch the fox, we must first carry a certain idol off the mountain.”

Someone laughed. “The Golden-Faced Buddha?”

“Precisely,” said Commander Sai. “We detained Guild Chief Fan originally to lure Miao Renfeng to Beijing. We had a cage waiting in the imperial prison. But he proved too wary. He didn’t take the bait.” One of the guards made a low sound in his throat but said nothing.

Commander Sai’s account concealed a truth. Miao Renfeng had indeed gone to Beijing. He had stormed the imperial prison alone to rescue Guild Chief Fan. He did not free the man, but his jian cut down eleven Imperial Guards and even wounded Commander Sai himself on the arm. For all of Sai’s elaborate preparations, Miao Renfeng’s martial skill was simply too great, and he escaped. That failure was the deepest shame of Sai’s life, and he never spoke of it before others.

“Manor Master Du and Guild Chief Fan are both men of profound honour,” Commander Sai continued. “They have pledged to lend us their strength, and I am deeply grateful. When the deed is done, I shall memorialise the Emperor, and there will be rich rewards for all —”

He broke off. From far beyond the manor, footsteps sounded, faint and distant but unmistakable. Commander Sai’s hearing was razor-sharp. He lowered his voice. “The Golden-Faced Buddha is here. We Imperial Guards take our positions inside. The rest of you, go out and receive him.”

Du Ximeng, Guild Chief Fan, Xuanmingzi, Adept Lingqing, Old Fist Master Jiang, and the others rose and left the side hall. Only the seven Imperial Guards remained.

The footsteps arrived at the manor’s gate with stupefying speed. No one had expected him to come so fast. It was like a ship on the open sea that has scarcely seen the first sign of a gale before wind and rain are lashing its sails, or like thunder too swift to cover one’s ears against, the clap upon you the instant the lightning has flashed.

Commander Sai and his six guards all started. With a ring of steel, all seven drew their weapons as one. “Take cover!” Sai hissed. Someone lifted the bed curtains, meaning to hide inside. Commander Sai snapped, “Idiot! In the bed? You’d be found in a moment!” The man drew back. The seven scattered: under the bed, inside a cabinet, behind the bookshelf.

Hu Fei laughed inwardly. You call him an idiot, but the idiot is you. Miao Ruolan’s breath brushed his cheek, soft and warm. He could hold himself no longer. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek. Miao Ruolan felt a rush of joy and shame. She would have turned away, but her sealed acupoints would not let her move.

After that single kiss, he suddenly, without knowing why, felt himself unworthy of her. She is so gentle, so refined. How can I take advantage of her? He was about to shift away when he heard muttering and muffled curses from beneath the bed. Several men were crammed under the bed, and one had driven his elbow into another’s nose.

Footnotes

1. 乌兰山 – Wūlán Shān. “Wulan Mountain.” Wulan means “red” in Mongolian. The mountain in Liaodong on which Jade Brush Peak stands. ↩

2. 琴 – qín. A seven-stringed zither, the most ancient of Chinese instruments, associated with scholars and refinement. ↩

3. 江湖 – jiānghú. Literally “rivers and lakes.” The itinerant martial world beyond settled society and official reach. ↩

4. 时辰 – shíchén. A traditional Chinese unit of time, one twelfth of a day, roughly two hours. ↩

5. 轻功 – qīnggōng. Lightness skill; the martial art of moving with extraordinary agility and speed. ↩

6. 火折子 – huǒzhézi. A tinder tube: rolled paper or fibre treated with saltpetre, kept smouldering in a tube and revived with a puff of breath. ↩

7. 点穴 – diǎnxué. Point-striking; the technique of sealing an opponent’s acupoints to paralyse or disable them. ↩

8. 苗人凤 – Miáo Rénfèng. The Golden-Faced Buddha, head of the Miao family, one of the four families descended from the Storming King’s bodyguards, and wielder of the Miao Family Swordplay. The man Hu Fei holds responsible for his father’s death. ↩

9. 赛赫图 – Sài Hètú. Commander of the Imperial Guard, the foremost martial artist in the Manchu domains and the Qianlong Emperor’s most trusted bodyguard. ↩

10. 内功 – nèigōng. Internal cultivation; the training of one’s inner energy and qi. ↩

11. 外功 – wàigōng. External techniques; the training of the body’s hard, outward skills. ↩

12. The Qianlong Emperor (r. 1735–1796), the fourth son of the Yongzheng Emperor and the fifth Qing emperor to rule China. ↩

13. 穴位 – xuéwèi. Points along the body’s meridians where qi may be accessed, sealed, or disrupted. ↩

14. 玄冥子 – Xuánmíngzǐ. A senior master of the Qingzang School. ↩

15. 灵清道人 – Língqīng Dàorén. A Daoist of Kunlun Mountain, trained in the external arts. ↩

16. 姜老拳师 – Jiāng Lǎo Quánshī. Old Fist Master Jiang, a senior master of the Wuji School in Henan, practitioner of the Wuji Fist. ↩

17. 武林 – wǔlín. The martial forest; the community of martial artists and their world. ↩

18. 兴汉丐帮 – Xīnghàn Gàibāng. The Xinghan Beggars’ Guild, a branch of the Beggars’ Guild devoted to the restoration of Han rule. ↩