The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 29 – Part 7

The two of them pushed into the clouds and mist. Everywhere they looked was a white blankness, and though it was the height of summer, they already felt quite cold. Huang Rong sighed. “Strange sights without number lie before us. Even if I can’t be cured, all this running about will not have been in vain.” Guo Jing said, “Rong-er, will you stop talking about dying and living?” Huang Rong gave a low laugh and blew softly into the hollow of his neck. Guo Jing felt the warm tickle of her breath on his neck and cried, “Stop fooling about! If I slip, we’ll both fall to our deaths.” Huang Rong laughed. “There, this time it isn’t me talking about dying and living!”

Guo Jing smiled, with no answer ready, and climbed faster and faster. Suddenly he saw the vine running forward, level with him. They had reached the summit. The moment his foot touched level ground, a tremendous crash rang out, as though the rock itself had split, then came an ox lowing again and again, and a man shouting loudly. Guo Jing said in wonder, “Cattle on a mountain this high? That is strange indeed!” He bore Huang Rong on his back and ran towards the sound. Huang Rong said, “Fisherman, Woodcutter, Farmer and Scholar,¹ isn’t it? Where there’s farming, there has to be an ox.”

Before the words had left her lips, they saw a yellow ox on the hillside, its head raised and bellowing. The situation, however, was most peculiar. The ox lay on its back atop a boulder, its four legs scrabbling, unable to rise. The rock swayed and threatened to topple. Below it, a man had planted his feet in a T-stance, his hands braced beneath the stone. The moment he let go, ox and boulder would tumble together into the deep valley below. The spot where the man stood was itself a jutting ledge with nowhere to retreat. Even if he were willing to abandon the ox, once the rock crashed down his hands would be broken, or his legs at the very least. The scene made it plain: the ox must have been grazing on the slope when it lost its footing and tumbled down, loosening the boulder in its fall. The man had been nearby and rushed to catch the stone and save the beast, only to find himself trapped in this sorry pass. Huang Rong laughed. “No sooner do we finish singing Shanpoyang, the Mountain Slope Sheep, than here’s a Mountain Slope Ox!”

The summit of the peak was a stretch of level ground, tilled into some twenty mu² of mountain field planted with rice. A hoe lay discarded at the field’s edge. The man bracing the rock was stripped to the waist, his legs caked with mud to the knees, plain evidence that he had been weeding when the ox fell. Huang Rong looked him over and thought, This must be the Farmer of the Fisherman, Woodcutter, Farmer and Scholar. That ox must weigh three hundred jin³ or so at the very least, and the boulder looks no light thing either. Half its weight rests against the slope, but to hold it as steady as that still takes prodigious strength. Guo Jing unfastened the green vine and set her on the ground, then darted forward. Huang Rong cried urgently, “Wait, not so fast!” But Guo Jing, intent on saving the man, crouched beside the farmer, raised his hands to the boulder, and said, “I will hold it. Lead the ox away first!”

The farmer felt the weight lighten at once, yet he was not certain this stranger possessed the strength to support both ox and stone. He released his right hand first, turned his body sideways, and kept his left hand braced beneath the rock. Guo Jing set his feet firm, gathered his strength and drove both arms upward with all his might. The great stone rose half a foot at once. The farmer’s left hand let go as well.

He waited a moment. Seeing that the boulder did not come down, he knew Guo Jing could hold it, and only then bent double, wriggled out from beneath the rock, and leapt up the slope to lead the ox away. He could not help glancing back at Guo Jing to see what manner of hero had appeared so suddenly out of nowhere, and what he saw astonished him. The fellow was a mere youth of eighteen or nineteen, with nothing remarkable about him, yet he held up the ox and the boulder without seeming to find it much of a strain.

The farmer, who prided himself on his great strength, saw that this young man’s power plainly surpassed his own, and suspicion took root. He looked down the slope again and saw a young woman leaning against a rock, her bearing wan and exhausted as though from some grave illness. His doubts deepened. He said to Guo Jing, “Friend, what brings you here?”

Guo Jing said, “I seek an audience with your shifu.”

The farmer asked, “For what purpose?”

Guo Jing started, and before he could answer, Huang Rong called from the side, “Lead the ox down first. There will be time for questions later. If he loses his grip, won’t man and ox both tumble down together?”

The farmer thought to himself, These two have come to see my shifu. Why did my two shixiongs below send up no signal arrows? If they forced their way past the first two defences, their martial arts must be formidable. He can’t let go just now, so this is my chance to get the truth out of him. He asked again, “You have come to beg my shifu’s healing?”

Guo Jing thought, I have already said so below, so there is no point hiding it now. He nodded.

The farmer’s expression shifted. He said, “I shall go and ask first.” With that, instead of leading the ox away, he leapt down from the slope.

Guo Jing shouted, “Hey, help me push this rock aside first!”

The farmer laughed. “I shall be back in a moment.”

Huang Rong saw what was happening and at once divined the farmer’s intent. He meant to drain Guo Jing’s strength, to let him hold the boulder until he was utterly spent, and only then offer assistance. At that point, driving the two of them off the mountain would be child’s play. She hated only that her own strength had vanished with her injury and she could not go forward to help push the stone away. She saw the farmer sprint away, with no knowing when he would return, and anger and alarm rose in her together. She called, “Hey, Uncle, come back.”

The farmer halted and laughed. “His strength is great. He can hold it for a shichen⁴ or two without trouble. Put your mind at ease.”

Huang Rong grew angrier still, and thought, Jing gege went to help you out of kindness, and you lead him into a trap and tell him to hold it for a shichen or two. Very well, I’ll think of some way to pay you back. She knitted her brows a little, and already had a plan. She called, “Uncle, if you want to ask your shifu first, that is only proper. But here is a letter from my shifu Hong Qigong to your shifu. I must trouble you to deliver it.”

At the name Hong Qigong the farmer gave a start. “So you, Miss, are a disciple of the Nine-Fingered Divine Beggar.⁵ Is this lad also a disciple of Esteemed Senior Hong? No wonder he is so capable.” He stepped closer to take the letter.

Huang Rong nodded. “Hm, he’s my shige. He has a few hundred jin of brute strength, that’s all. When it comes to martial arts, he is far, far behind you, Uncle.” She slowly opened her pack, pretending to search for the letter, but first shook out the Soft Hedgehog Armour.⁶ She glanced back at Guo Jing, let a look of alarm cross her face, and cried, “Oh no, this is bad, his palms will be ruined. Uncle, quick, think of some way to save him.”

The farmer was taken aback, then laughed. “It is no matter. Where is the letter?” He reached out his hand, waiting to take it.

Huang Rong said urgently, “You do not understand. My shige has been practising the Sky-Splitting Palm.⁷ Both his palms were soaked in vinegar last night and the power has not yet dispersed. If he holds the weight too long, his palms will be ruined.” She had practised the Sky-Splitting Palm with her father on Peach Blossom Island and knew the method of training.

Though the farmer did not know that technique himself, he was a disciple of a renowned school and widely experienced. He knew such things were true. He thought, If I carelessly maim a disciple of the Nine-Fingered Divine Beggar, not only will my shifu surely blame me, but my own conscience would trouble me, all the more since he came to help me out of kindness. But is what this little girl says true or false? Could she be working some trick to fool me into releasing him?

Huang Rong saw him hesitate, undecided. She took up the Soft Hedgehog Armour, shook it out, and said, “This is the Soft Hedgehog Armour, the greatest treasure of Peach Blossom Island. No dao or jian can harm it. Please, Uncle, go and pad his shoulder with it, then press the boulder down on him again. That way he cannot get away, and he comes to no harm. Isn’t that the best of both worlds? Otherwise, if you ruin his palms, my shifu will never let the matter rest. He will come and demand an accounting from your shifu.”

The farmer had heard of the Soft Hedgehog Armour. He took it, half believing, half doubtful. Huang Rong saw that suspicion still lingered in his eyes and said, “My shifu taught me never to lie to others. How would I dare deceive you, Uncle? If you do not believe me, Uncle, hack a few cuts into the armour and see for yourself.”

The farmer saw that her face was all innocent candour and thought, The Nine-Fingered Divine Beggar is an eminent Senior. His word is as jade and gold, and my shifu has always spoken of him with the deepest admiration. This little girl’s bearing shows she is not one to lie. Yet for his shifu’s safety he would not dare the slightest carelessness. He drew the short dao from his belt and hacked several cuts into the Soft Hedgehog Armour. Sure enough, the armour was not marked in the least. It truly was a wondrous treasure of the wulin.⁸ His doubts vanished. He said, “Very well. I will go and pad his shoulder with it.”

He did not know that Huang Rong’s face was as pure as ice and snow, yet her mind teemed with stratagems. He took the Soft Hedgehog Armour, moved to Guo Jing’s side, placed it over his right shoulder, braced both hands beneath the boulder, summoned strength to his arms, and heaved the rock up. “Let go,” he said. “Catch it with your shoulder.”

Huang Rong steadied herself against a rock and watched the two intently. She saw the farmer heave the boulder up and cried, “Jing gege, Flying Dragon in the Sky!”⁹

Guo Jing felt the weight vanish from his hands. At the same instant he heard Huang Rong’s cry. He had no time for thought. His right palm shot forward, his left palm slipped out from beneath the right wrist, and he executed the move “Flying Dragon in the Sky” from the Eighteen Palms of Dragon Subduing.¹⁰ His body soared into the air. His right palm flipped past his left and drove forward. He landed beside Huang Rong, and the Soft Hedgehog Armour still sat steady on his shoulder. He heard the farmer break into furious curses. He looked back and saw the man’s hands raised once more, holding the boulder, unable to move.

Huang Rong was exceedingly pleased. She said, “Jing gege, let us go.” She turned to the farmer. “Your strength is great. You can hold it for a shichen or two without trouble. Put your mind at ease.”

The farmer cursed, “You little wench, playing a trick like that on me! You say the Nine-Fingered Divine Beggar keeps his word. Hmph, a lifetime’s good name, and a little wench like you has ruined it.”

Huang Rong laughed. “Ruined what? My shifu told me I mustn’t lie, but my father says that fooling people is no great matter. I prefer to listen to my father, and there is nothing my shifu can do about it.”

The farmer raged, “Who is your father?”

Huang Rong said, “Why, did I not just show you the Soft Hedgehog Armour?”

The farmer cursed loudly. “Damn it, damn it! The little devil is Old Heretic Huang’s¹¹ devil of a daughter. How could I be such a fool?”

Huang Rong laughed. “Indeed. My shifu’s word is as a mountain, and he never deceives anyone. That is a lesson I find most difficult to learn, and I have no wish to learn it. I say, my father teaches the better way!” She giggled, took Guo Jing by the hand, and walked on ahead.

Author’s note:

I. When I first wrote this chapter, I said only that Huang Rong owed her mastery of advanced mathematics, and her power to confound Yinggu, to the teaching of her father Huang Yaoshi. Mathematics is the academic forte of my native place, Haining in Zhejiang province. The great Qing dynasty mathematician Li Shanlan was a man of Haining, and he left behind a large body of mathematical work. Huang Yaoshi was from Peach Blossom Island near Zhoushan in Zhejiang, and though that is not far from my own district, in scholarship the two are quite unrelated. When I studied at Jiaxing Middle School (Haining now falls under Jiaxing), my mathematics teacher Zhang Kebiao was also a man of Haining. The great contemporary mathematician Chen Xingshen was a man of Jiaxing. Though the author himself had an interest in mathematics and no talent for it, in junior middle school he had the instruction of Teacher Yu Fang and gained a slight entry into the gates of geometry. Later, when constructing the structures of his novels, this proved of considerable help to logical thinking and reasoning, and I remain grateful to my teacher and have not forgotten it. In November 1998, an International Academic Symposium on Jin Yong’s Novels was held in Taipei. Professor Hong Wansheng of Taiwan Normal University presented a most valuable paper, “The Quanzhen Order and Jin-Yuan Mathematics,” profound in learning and broad in scope. When it was read and discussed at the conference, this author listened with the greatest respect and once more experienced the life of a student, and was filled with admiration. The subtitle of Professor Hong’s paper was “Taking Li Ye (1192—1279) as an Example.” He described in detail the life and scholarship of the great Jin-Yuan mathematician Li Ye, and mentioned that among Li Ye’s closest friends were Yuan Haowen (the great ci poet who wrote “Ask the world, what is love?”) and the great mathematician and Quanzhen Order Daoist Zhao Youqin. Zhao was a disciple of Song Defang’s disciple, and Song Defang was a student of Ma Yu and Qiu Chuji, two of the Seven Zis of Quanzhen. So if Li Ye had the opportunity to hear, at second hand, Huang Yaoshi or his followers discuss mathematics, that would not be impossible.

Li Ye’s chief achievement lay in systematising the “Tianyuan method” of the Song-Jin-Yuan period, paving the way for the later “Siyuan method.” The Tianyuan method is China’s algebra: it takes one or more unknowns, solves equations, and finds the values of those unknowns. Li Ye’s work Jingzhai Gujin Tou discusses scholarship spanning the classics, philosophy, history, literature, mathematics, medicine, numerology, qigong, embryonic breathing, and inner alchemy, which shows that his breadth of learning was a little like Huang Yaoshi’s. In the book he writes: “When I arrived at Dongping, I obtained a mathematical treatise. For the most part it illuminates the method of Like Accumulations. It marks its upper and lower rows with nineteen characters: Xian, Ming, Xiao, Han, Lei, Ceng, Gao, Shang, Tian, Ren, Di, Xia, Di, Jian, Luo, Shi, Quan, An, Gui. Here Ren, Man, is taken as the Supreme Polarity, with Heaven above and Earth below, rising and descending in their proper stations.” Li Ye states plainly that this nineteen-unknown system came to him from a mathematical text he found at Dongping. So one might say that if Huang Yaoshi devised it, and Huang Rong received it as a family teaching, and used it to give Yinggu a fright, that too is not unreasonable. I write this note in gratitude for Professor Hong Wansheng’s instruction.

II. In the early summer of 2000, the author accompanied his weiqi teachers Nie Weiping and Lin Haifeng, and his friend Mr. Shen Junshan, to Lijiang in Yunnan to take part in the “Yan-Huang Cup Weiqi Masters Tournament.” At a gala evening in the Mu Family Mansion, he had the good fortune to hear the “Lijiang Ancient Music Ensemble” perform surviving Tang and Song melodies. Most of the musicians were white-bearded old men. The instruments included the guqin, the guzheng, and the ancient sheng. Among the women singers’ chorus of Tang and Song surviving pieces was the Shanpoyang that later tradition attributes to the Yuan dynasty writer Zhang Yanghao, “The peaks crowd together, the waves boil as if in rage…”, together with several other surviving Song pieces. A cassette recording of the choral works was available for sale (and may still be purchased in Lijiang today). According to Mr. Xuan Ke, the ensemble’s director and conductor, these ancient pieces have been performed before Queen Elizabeth of England, the King of Norway, and others, and have also been performed at Oxford University in England, where they won admiration and an honorary academic title was conferred. That music of more than a thousand years ago should survive to the present day is truly no small thing. Our poetry and prose have a long and deep pedigree. It is not the case that each dynasty has only its own poetry and prose. Thus Li Bai wrote ci to the tune Pusaman, and later generations discovered in the Dunhuang caves many copies of “Song ci” transcribed by Tang hands. It is not impossible that these Shanpoyang pieces were truly the work of Tang hands, handed down through later ages, and that the Yuan man Zhang Yanghao heard them, approved, and set them down in writing, so that later generations wrongly attributed them to Zhang as his own compositions. After all, the true origin is something later generations can hardly know. Even Wang Guowei, that great scholar, in his celebrated Tang-Song Great Pieces Study, makes no mention of this matter. The author has on several occasions examined the rhyme-schemes of Tang, Song and Yuan qu through their various revisions, but with too shallow a grounding in ancient phonology to reach any conclusion, and must defer to the learned in future. To trace the matter to its root will require the research of archaeologists, literary historians, ancient musicologists, Dunhuang scholars, and ethnologists alike. Critics have laughed at this book for “a Song dynasty talented woman singing Yuan dynasty songs.” The author, writing martial arts fiction, is shallow in learning and not well versed in ancient historical fact, seeking only that the story be lively and spirited, and so the details are bound to contain errors. When this book was first written, the author had not yet been to Dali and did not know this piece of history. The present passage was added later. The story of the remnants of the Tang armies destroyed in Nanzhao may or may not be fact. It may be taken as a novelist’s fancy.

Footnotes

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

2. 亩 — mǔ. Traditional Chinese unit of area, roughly 667 square metres or one-sixth of an acre. ↩

3. 斤 — jīn. A unit of weight, about 590 grams in the Song dynasty. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

5. 九指神丐 — Jiǔzhǐ Shéngài. Literally nine-fingered divine beggar. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 软猬甲 — Ruǎnwèijiǎ. A vest set with tiny barbs, proof against blades and fists, treasured on Peach Blossom Island. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

7. 劈空掌 — Pīkōng Zhǎng. Literally air-splitting palm. A palm strike that reaches its target without contact. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

8. 武林 — wǔlín. Literally martial forest. Those who actually practise, teach or study martial arts. The wulin sits inside the jianghu and is narrower than it: every member of the wulin belongs to the jianghu, but a pedlar or physician of the jianghu who never trained is no part of the wulin. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 飞龙在天 — Fēi Lóng Zài Tiān. Literally flying dragon in the sky, a line of the Book of Changes. A move of the Eighteen Palms of Dragon Subduing. ↩

10. 降龙十八掌 — Xiánglóng Shíbā Zhǎng. Literally eighteen dragon-subduing palms. Hong Qigong’s palm technique. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 黄老邪 — Huáng Lǎoxié. Literally old heretic Huang. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩