The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 29 – Part 4

By midday the Little Red Horse¹ had covered over a hundred li.² The two of them stopped for a meal at a little eating house by the road. Huang Rong’s chest still ached, and she could manage only half a bowl of rice water.³ When Guo Jing asked, he learned that this place fell under Taoyuan County.⁴ After Huang Rong drank the rice water, her breathing grew laboured and she fainted. Guo Jing was alarmed. Seeing that they could not press on, he asked whether the eating house could lend them a room to rest in. The owner said, “Sir, this is a poor district with barren land. What extra rooms do we country folk have? Five li on there’s a rice shop with a storehouse, a big place. Since you’ve got a sick person with you, try asking there to borrow a room for the night. As long as you can pay, they might say yes.”

Guo Jing thanked him, took Huang Rong on his back, mounted and rode the five li. Sure enough, beside the road stood three large buildings with high brick walls. Before the door were parked three wheelbarrows: one loaded with a dozen or more sacks of rice, one with firewood and charcoal, and the third with vegetables, oil, salt, sweet potatoes, chickens and ducks, and other provisions. Guo Jing walked to the entrance and saw an old man sitting on a bench drinking tea. Guo Jing greeted him and said, “Sir, I am a traveller on the road. My younger sister here has suddenly fallen gravely ill. I wonder if you might do us a kindness and lend us a room for the night. I shall gladly pay for lodging and meals.” With that he drew a large silver ingot from his breast and presented it with both hands.

The old man was sixty or seventy, his hair entirely white, his chin smooth and bare of beard. He smiled faintly, his manner gentle and modest, and said, “Your sister is seriously ill. Lodging for a night is naturally no problem, though there’s no need for such a quantity of silver.”

Guo Jing recalled what the eating-house owner had said, “As long as you can pay, they might say yes,” and thought that a man of business would naturally want as much silver as possible. “Thank you, sir. My sister and I are deeply grateful. Please accept this ingot first. When we take our leave tomorrow, there will be further thanks.” He set the silver ingot respectfully on the table.

The old man said, “May I ask your honourable name, sir?”

Guo Jing said, “This humble one is surnamed Guo. My shimei⁵ here is surnamed Huang. And yours, sir?”

The old man said, “This decrepit old man is surnamed Yang. Pray have some tea first, sir.” He poured tea into a cup.

Guo Jing helped Huang Rong onto the bench. Her breathing had eased a little, and he felt a little easier himself.

The old man glanced at the dried black mud from the marsh on Guo Jing’s feet, now hard and dark, a colour quite different from ordinary mud on shoes and ankles. “Sir, you came last night from that forest yonder, and did not lose your way. That is quite something.”

Guo Jing smiled. “Pure good fortune.”

In a sidelong glance he noticed that the wooden wheels of the three wheelbarrows were also caked with the same deep black dried mud. A faint suspicion stirred in him. The old man said, “These carts carry food and vegetables into the forest.” Guo Jing nodded, thinking to himself, Yinggu⁶ lives in the Black Marsh,⁷ so of course her rice, firewood, vegetables, oil and salt must be brought in from outside.

Guo Jing first fed Huang Rong a cup of tea, then drank one himself. The old man led them into an inner room. There were two beds in the room, hung with green gauze curtains, each bed laid with a straw mat and a thin quilt. The white-wood table and chairs were clean enough. Guo Jing helped Huang Rong lie down on a bed, then placed his palm on her Lingtai acupoint⁸ and, very slowly, very gently, calmed her qi,⁹ afraid of stirring her inner breath again and setting her vomiting blood. He did not dare try again the method of the Healing Chapter¹⁰ of the Nine Yin Manual,¹¹ which smooths the inner breath and opens the microcosmic orbit.¹²

After a while, a young servant brought a wooden tray into the room with dry rice and thin congee, and some cured fish and cured meat. Guo Jing helped Huang Rong eat half a bowl of congee. She forced herself to swallow, but could not manage the dishes.

When they had finished their meal, they lay down to rest.

Huang Rong said, “Jing gege, stay with me like this always. Even if my injuries never heal in a hundred years, I’d still be perfectly happy.”

Guo Jing said, “As long as you don’t find it tedious, I’ll keep you company for a hundred years.”

Huang Rong said, “What about your Princess Huazheng?¹³”

Guo Jing started. “I did promise to marry her. But I want to stay with you first, a hundred years, two hundred years. If she’s willing to wait, then let her wait a hundred years, two hundred years. Ai, Rong-er, I couldn’t leave you if it killed me. I’ll just have to let her down… Two hundred years from now, she’ll have turned into an old woman with white hair and a wrinkled face, and naturally I couldn’t marry her then.”

Huang Rong laughed. “By then I’d have turned into an old woman too.”

Guo Jing said, “Even if you turned into an old woman, I’d still marry you. You’d be my lovely, darling old granny Rong-er…”

Just then an old, cracked voice in the hall began to sing. The tune was Shanpoyang,¹⁴ which was sung everywhere, and these were the words:

Clear wind my companion, white cloud my love, No dreams of purple robe or golden sash. A thatched hut, wild flowers bloom, What care I who rises or falls, who succeeds or fails? A mean lane, a basket, a gourd, and joy is here. Morning, I face the green mountains! Evening, I face the green mountains!

Huang Rong cried out in delight, “A wonderful song! Jing gege, I’ve heard plenty of Shanpoyang songs, but seldom one as fine as this. I wonder who wrote it. Let me memorise it and sing it for Father.” She silently committed the words to memory, her fingers curling gently to keep time.

She spoke very softly, yet the old man singing outside the door heard her. He laughed from beyond the threshold. “Miss, you understand music. Do you know where this song comes from?”

Huang Rong said softly, “Ask him to come in.”

Guo Jing called out, “Please come in, sir.”

The old man walked into the room and sat in a chair beside the bed.

Huang Rong said, “I should like you to tell me where this song comes from.”

The old man said, “This song has been handed down for three hundred years at the very least. It comes down from the Tianbao era¹⁵ of the Tang dynasty.”

Huang Rong was astonished. “So old? Please tell me more, sir.”

The old man said, “Miss, you are exceedingly clever. Perhaps from my accent you have already guessed that I am originally from Yunnan.”

Huang Rong thought to herself, Your accent and intonation are somewhat similar to that disagreeable Yinggu’s. Could Yinggu be from Yunnan too? She said aloud, “Your accent, sir, is certainly different from the Xiangxi people hereabouts. It’s soft and melodic, very pleasant to hear. So you are from Yunnan.”

The old man smiled. “I grew up in Dali, in Yunnan. Later my superiors sent me here, first in charge of workers to build houses and plant trees until they formed a forest, and then to stay on permanently, responsible for supplying the forest’s provisions of clothing, food and daily necessities.”

Huang Rong nodded. She had not the strength for much talking, and besides, since she still did not know whether Yinggu was friend or foe, she had no wish to give much away about herself.

The old man said, “Since you two came from the forest last night, and no message has come from that side forbidding me to receive you, there is no harm in telling you an old story. In our Yunnan there is now the Dali Kingdom.¹⁶ In former times it was called Nanzhao.¹⁷ During the Tianbao era of the Tang dynasty, the king of Nanzhao was Geluofeng.¹⁸ The state was powerful, and both the Tang dynasty and Tubo courted him. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang doted on Consort Yang,¹⁹ and employed Li Linfu and Yang Guozhong²⁰ as his chancellors. The court was in chaos. In the tenth year of Tianbao (in those days it was called the tenth annum of Tianbao), Yang Guozhong sent Xianyu Zhongtong²¹ to lead eighty thousand troops from Jiannan²² to attack Nanzhao. They advanced as far as Quzhou and Jingzhou, and then suffered a great defeat at Lunan.²³ The Tang army lost sixty thousand men. In Tianbao year thirteen, Yang Guozhong sent Li Mi²⁴ to lead seventy thousand troops from Jiannan to attack Nanzhao. His Majesty Geluofeng was a master of war. He lured the enemy deep, and after a fierce battle Li Mi was taken captive and his entire army annihilated. Not a single man returned. In the Tang army’s two great defeats, over a hundred thousand soldiers were captured or scattered, and all of them were stranded in Yunnan. My ancestor was a minor officer among the Tang troops. In Yunnan he married a Baiyi²⁵ woman (the Bai people of today), settled down, raised a family, and his descendants have continued to this day. When my father’s family fell on hard times and he had no way of making a living, he had me gelded and sent into the palace of the Dali Kingdom as a eunuch. I fear I have made you two laugh.”

Huang Rong said, “I would not dare laugh. I have heard that Emperor Duan of Dali is a sage and a wise ruler. For you to serve Emperor Duan, that is a fine thing indeed!”

The old man said, “So young, Miss, and such insight. Truly remarkable.” Hearing Huang Rong call Emperor Duan a “sage and wise ruler” pleased him greatly. He continued, “There are several more Shanpoyang songs, handed down from my ancestors. It is said that in those days they were widely sung in the city of Chang’an.²⁶ Noble and common folk alike, many could sing them. Of the Tang officers and men, some came from Sichuan and some from Chang’an, and when they were taken captive, spared and left stranded in Yunnan, these little songs put down roots there too. Only, the Yunnan accent is not the same as the northern one, so there were small changes.” (See the note at the end of this chapter.)

The old man took his leave, unwilling to disturb Huang Rong’s rest, and did not sing again.

Guo Jing said, “I wonder what that Yinggu has put in these pouches.” He took out the small white pouch and broke the stitched seam. Inside was a crude map, with two lines of writing beside it: “Follow the path shown on the map. At the end of the path is a great waterfall, and beside it a thatched hut. When you get there, open the red pouch.”

The next morning, after breakfast, the two bade the old man farewell. Guo Jing offered another silver ingot. Old Yang would not take it, but Guo Jing insisted, and asked for some dry rations and griddle cakes, which he tucked into his robe. They mounted and rode on, following the map for seventy or eighty li. The road grew narrower, and after another eight or nine li, peaks rose sheer as walls on either side, with a winding path between them barely wide enough for one person to squeeze along. The Little Red Horse could go no further. Guo Jing had to take Huang Rong on his back, and left the horse at a household at the foot of the hills to crop the wild grass.

They climbed the steep path up the ridge. After roughly one shichen²⁷ of walking, the road grew narrower still. In places Guo Jing had to carry Huang Rong across his arms, and both of them edged through sideways. It was the height of the seventh month, the blazing sun fierce enough to melt gold, but the peaks on either side of the path rose so high that they blocked the sun entirely, and it was quite cool.

After a while Guo Jing grew hungry. He took the rations and griddle cakes from his robe, tore off a few pieces and fed them to Huang Rong, then ate as he walked, never breaking his stride. He had finished three large griddle cakes and was parched with thirst when he caught the faint sound of water in the distance. He quickened his pace. The empty mountains were still, and the water-sound echoed and reverberated through the valley, booming and rumbling. The further they walked, the louder it grew. When they reached the ridge-top, they saw a great waterfall like a white dragon thundering down between the twin peaks opposite, an awesome sight and sound.

Looking down from the ridge, they could indeed see a thatched hut beside the waterfall. Guo Jing picked out a rock to sit on, took out the red pouch and opened it. Inside, on a sheet of white paper, was written, “Of all men living, only Emperor Duan can heal this girl’s injury…”

Guo Jing saw the three characters “Emperor Duan” and started. He read them aloud.

Huang Rong was already exhausted. Hearing him say “the Southern Emperor,” she started inwardly and said, “Emperor Duan? The Western Venom said as well that perhaps only Emperor Duan could heal my shifu’s injuries. I have heard Father say that Emperor Duan is the ‘Southern Emperor.’ He is emperor of the Dali Kingdom in Yunnan…”

Yunnan was thousands of mountains and rivers away. How could they possibly reach it in three days? A chill settled in her breast. She forced herself to sit up and, leaning on Guo Jing’s shoulder, read the paper with him.

“Of all men living, only Emperor Duan can heal this girl’s injury. He has done much that was unrighteous, and lives in hiding at Taoyuan. It is all but impossible for an outsider to see him, and to say you have come for healing is to break his gravest taboo. Before you reach his hall, you will first fall victim to the deadly hands of the Fisherman, the Woodcutter, the Farmer and the Scholar.²⁸ You must therefore falsely claim to bear an urgent message from your shifu Hong Qigong, requesting an audience with the Emperor to report important tidings. Once you face the Southern Emperor in person, hand over the map inside the yellow cloth bag. Her one slender thread of life hangs on this alone.”

Guo Jing finished reading and turned to Huang Rong. She sat with brows knitted, silent. He asked, “Rong-er, what unrighteous deeds has Emperor Duan committed? Why is seeking medical aid an even graver offence? What are the deadly hands of the Fisherman, the Woodcutter, the Farmer and the Scholar?”

Huang Rong sighed. “Jing gege, don’t think I’m so clever that I know everything.”

Guo Jing started, then reached down and gathered her into his arms. “All right. Let’s go down.”

He gazed into the distance and saw someone sitting under a willow beside the waterfall, wearing a bamboo hat, too far off for him to make out what he was doing.

What with his haste, and the way down being so much easier, before long Guo Jing had carried Huang Rong at a brisk pace to the waterfall. The man under the willow wore a straw raincoat and sat on a rock, fishing. The waterfall was extraordinarily fierce, plunging down in one great torrent. How could there be fish in such water? Even if there were fish, how would they have the leisure to take bait?

The man was perhaps forty. His face was as black as the bottom of a pot, his cheeks covered in a bristling beard, every hair of it like iron wire. His two eyes stared into the water without moving.

Seeing him utterly absorbed in his fishing, Guo Jing did not dare disturb him. He helped Huang Rong rest against the willow tree and went over himself to see what fish there could possibly be in the waterfall.

He waited a long time. Suddenly a flash of gold stirred in the water. The fisherman’s face lit up, and all at once his rod bent sharply down. At the end of the line, beneath the water, something about a foot long was biting. It was neither fish nor snake, its whole body was golden, its head and body both flat, its shape most peculiar.

Guo Jing was greatly puzzled and could not help crying out, “Eh, what is that?”

At that moment another golden fish, just as strange, shot out of the water and seized the line. The fisherman was even more delighted and gripped the rod firmly, holding it still. The rod bent further and further, until it seemed it could not hold. Suddenly, with a sharp crack, the rod snapped in two. The two strange fish spat out the hook and line, swam in smug circles in the water for a few turns. The waterfall was fierce, yet it could not move them. Then in the blink of an eye they darted beneath the rocks at the bottom and were seen no more.

The fisherman turned around, his eyes round with fury, and roared, “You stinking brat, I’ve waited half the day for this, and along comes a little thief like you and scares them off.” He put out a hand as big as a palm-leaf fan and took two steps forward, ready to fight. Then, for some reason, he thought better of it and with an effort held himself back, clenching his fists until the knuckles cracked, his face full of fury.

Footnotes

1. 小红马 — xiǎo hóng mǎ. The red horse Guo Jing tames on the steppe, a sweat-blood steed. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 里 — lǐ. A traditional unit of distance, about 500 metres or one-third of a mile. ↩

3. 米汤 — mǐtāng. The starchy water left after cooking rice, given to the sick as a gentle, nourishing drink. ↩

4. 桃源县 — Táoyuán Xiàn. Literally Peach Source County. A county in Hunan Province, traditionally held to be the setting of Tao Yuanming’s “Peach Blossom Spring”. ↩

5. 师妹 — shīmèi. Female junior. Both apprenticed to the same shifu. Shī means teacher. Mèi means younger sister. ↩

6. 瑛姑 — Yīnggū. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 黑沼 — Hēi Zhǎo. Literally black marsh. ↩

8. 灵台穴 — Língtái Xué. Literally spirit tower point. An acupoint on the spine, below the sixth thoracic vertebra. ↩

9. 气 — qì. Literally breath or vital energy. The fundamental life force central to Chinese medicine and martial arts. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

10. 疗伤章 — Liáoshāng Zhāng. Literally healing chapter. A section of the Nine Yin Manual on the treatment of internal injuries. ↩

11. 九阴真经 — Jiǔyīn Zhēnjīng. Literally true scripture of the nine yin. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 周天 — zhōutiān. Literally heavenly circuit. The circulation of qi through the jingmai; the Lesser Circuit (小周天) runs through the Ren and Du vessels, the Greater Circuit (大周天) through all the channels. ↩

13. 华筝 — Huázhēng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

14. 山坡羊 — Shānpō Yáng. Literally goat on the hillside. A traditional song tune (qupai), popular from the Yuan dynasty onwards. ↩

15. 天宝 — Tiānbǎo. The era name (742—756) of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang. During it the word for year in dates was officially changed from 年 to 载. ↩

16. 大理国 — Dàlǐ Guó. Kingdom in southwest China, modern-day Yunnan, ruled by the Bai people of the Duan Clan from 937 to 1253 CE. See Wikipedia. ↩

17. 南诏 — Nánzhào. A kingdom (738—902) centred on modern Yunnan, predecessor of the Dali Kingdom. ↩

18. 合罗凤 — Gěluófèng. King of Nanzhao (r. 748—779), who defeated two great Tang invasions in the Tianbao era. ↩

19. 杨贵妃 — Yáng Guìfēi. Consort Yang (719—756), the favourite of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, traditionally blamed for the decline of the Tang court. ↩

20. 杨国忠 — Yáng Guózhōng. Tang chancellor (d. 756) and kinsman of Consort Yang, blamed for the disastrous campaigns against Nanzhao. See Wikipedia. ↩

21. 鲜于仲通 — Xiānyú Zhòngtōng. A Tang general who led the invasion of Nanzhao in 751 and suffered a crushing defeat. ↩

22. 剑南 — Jiànnán. The Jiannan Circuit of the Tang, covering modern Sichuan and parts of Yunnan. ↩

23. 泸南 — Lúnán. Literally south of the Lu. The lands beyond the Lu River on the southwestern frontier of Tang China, where a Tang army was routed by Nanzhao in 751. ↩

24. 李宓 — Lǐ Mì. Tang general who led the second invasion of Nanzhao in 754, a campaign that ended in the destruction of his army. ↩

25. 摆夷 — Bǎiyí. An archaic name, identified in the text with the Bai people (白族) of Yunnan. ↩

26. 长安 — Cháng’ān. The capital of the Tang dynasty, modern-day Xi’an. See Wikipedia. ↩

27. 时辰 — shíchén. Traditional Chinese unit of time equal to two hours; the day was divided into twelve shichen. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

28. 渔樵耕读 — Yú Qiáo Gēng Dú. Literally fisherman, woodcutter, farmer and scholar. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩