Huang Rong smiled, “What’s so difficult to complete the couplet? Only I have just offended Uncle, now with my answer I will offend all four of you, the fisherman, the woodcutter, the farmer and the scholar; that’s why I was so hesitant to say it.”
The scholar did not believe her, he thought, “Just completing the couplet is an extremely difficult task to do; how can you offend us four martial brothers at the same time?” Hence he said, “If you really can complete the couplet, what harm will a little joke bring?”
Huang Rong smiled, “If that’s the case, let me ask for your forgiveness first. The second line is, ‘chi mei wang liang ( 魑 魅 魍 魉 ) [mountain elf, demon, elf, fairy – all are fairy tales supernatural characters; all characters have ‘demon’ ( 鬼 ) on their sides], four little demons with their belly and intestines’.”
The scholar was astonished, he sprang up to stand; with his long sleeve fluttered he dashed toward Huang Rong, “I give up with full admiration,” he said.
Huang Rong returned his obeisance and said with a smile, “If four honorable Uncles did not do your utmost to hinder us going up the mountain, your couplets were really difficult to complete.”
Turned out when Huang Yaoshi solved this riddle, Chen Xuanfeng, Qu Lingfeng, Lu Chengfeng and Feng Mofeng, four disciples were by his side; Huang Yaoshi meant this second line as a joke to his four disciples. That time Huang Rong was not even born yet. Later she heard her father recalling this story and today she managed to use the same line to make fun of the fisherman, the woodcutter, the farmer and the scholar.
“Humph,” the scholar snorted. He turned around to make a small gap and said, “Please.”
Guo Jing was standing quietly listening to these two exchanging literary attacks to each other; he was afraid Huang Rong would not be able reply and thus waste all previous efforts. Seeing that the scholar moved aside to make a way for them, he was very delighted. He exerted his strength and jumped over the gap; landed on the spot where the scholar had previously sat. Finally he jumped over the last gap.
The scholar noticed how Guo Jing leaped over the gaps with ease even while carrying Huang Rong on his back; he sighed and said in his heart, “I pride myself as highly skilled in both literary and martial art; actually in literature I am inferior to this young girl, and in martial art I am not this youngster’s match. Ashamed, I am really ashamed.” He glanced sideways to see Huang Rong’s delighted expression; he thought this girl had just beat an honorable and highly educated ‘zhuang yuan’, no wonder she could not hide her upbeat feeling. He thought, “Let me tease her, teaching her not to be too self-complacent!” Thereupon he said, “Miss’ literary talent is extraordinary, but your behavior is lacking.”
“I beg your explanation,” Huang Rong said.
The scholar replied, “Mengzi [Mencius] wrote in his book: ‘Men and women do not get intimate, that is only proper.’ I see Miss is an unmarried woman, this ‘Xiao Ge’ [little elder brother] is not your husband; how can he carried you on his back? Mengzi said a brother can help a drowning sister-in-law, or an uncle helps his niece. Miss has not fallen into the water, this ‘Xiao Ge’ is also not your brother-in-law. This kind of carrying and hugging is truly violating religious teaching.”
“Humph,” Huang Rong thought, “Brother Jing is good to me, yet other people always make a big deal of the fact that he is not my husband. Shige [martial (older) brother] Lu Chengfeng also said the same thing as this scholar.” Thereupon she said point-blankly, “Mengzi loved to talk nonsense; how can you believe what he said?”
The scholar was offended, “Mengzi was a great and worthy sage; why can’t we believe what he said?”
Huang Rong smiled and recited, “How can a beggar have two wives? Where did the neighbor have so many chickens from? The Zhou (dynasty) still had an emperor, why discuss many matters with the Wei and Qi (dynasties)?”
The more the scholar thought, the more he realized the truth in what she said. He stood there staring blankly, unable to say a single word.
Actually it was Huang Yaoshi who wrote that saying. He loathed the traditions and despised empty alms; he loved to scrutinize, refute, ridicule and satirize the empty meanings of old sayings handed down from great and worthy sages. Once he made many poems and songs to satirize Confucius and Mencius.
Mencius told a story about a man from the Qi dynasty who had a wife and a concubine and yet he begged for cold rice and spoiled soup; also about another man who everyday stole a chicken from his neighbor. Huang Yaoshi said that these two stories were used to swindle others. About the later sayings the story went like this: During the Warring States period (475 – 221 BC) the Zhou Emperor was still on his throne, yet why did Mencius not support the royal family; but went to Prince Liang Hui and Prince Qi Xuan to whom he asked for a governmental position? Huang Yaoshi thought this action greatly disobeyed the way of the saints and sages.
The scholar thought, “The man of Qi stealing chicken was a metaphor, unworthy of deeper study; but the last sentence, I am afraid even Mengzi himself under the ground would have difficulty refuting.” He looked at Huang Rong’s eyes and thought, “She is so young, how can she possess such weird intelligence?” Without saying anything else he led two people walked forward.
When passing the lotus pond his gaze was caught by a lotus leaf on the pond; he could not help stealing a glance toward Huang Rong. Huang Rong stifled her laugh and turned her head another direction.
The scholar led the two people entering the temple, asked them to sit in the east wing and had a young monk serve tea. “Please wait for a moment here,” the scholar said, “I am going to report to the Master.”
“Wait!” Guo Jing said, “That Farmer Uncle is still holding up a big rock on the hillside; he can’t get away by himself. Uncle please help him first.” The scholar was startled and dashed out.
“Now we can open the yellow pouch,” Huang Rong said.
“Ah, if you did not mention it, I would have totally forgotten,” Guo Jing said. Hastily he took out the yellow pouch and tore it open. Inside the pouch was a plain sheet of paper without any characters written on it, only a drawing.
The drawing depicted a man wearing royal attire of the India. The man was cutting his own flesh with a knife; his whole body was a mass of cuts and bruises, dripping with blood. There was a scale in front of him; on one end of the balance stood a white pigeon, on the other piled his cut flesh. The pigeon looked small, but it was heavier than the pile of flesh on the other end. A fierce looking hawk stood next to the scale.