The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 30 – Part 2

The scholar had watched him cross that perilous ground with Huang Rong on his back as if it were level road, and could not help admiring him. He thought, I pride myself on excelling in both letters and arms, yet in letters I fall short of this girl, and in arms short of this boy. For shame, for shame. He glanced sideways at Huang Rong again and saw her looking thoroughly pleased with herself. No doubt a young girl who had bested a learned old Confucian could not hide her delight. He thought, I’ll have a little fun at her expense, so she does not get too pleased with herself! So he said, “Your literary talent is fine, Miss, but your conduct leaves something to be desired.”

Huang Rong said, “Do enlighten me.”

The scholar said, “The Mencius¹ says, ‘That men and women should not touch in giving and receiving is the rule of propriety.’ You are plainly an unmarried girl, Miss, and this young fellow is not your husband. Why, then, does he carry you on his back? Master Meng says only that if a man’s sister-in-law is drowning, he may give her his hand.² You have not fallen into the water, Miss, nor are you this young fellow’s sister-in-law. To be carried and held like this is a grave breach of the rites.”

Huang Rong thought to herself, Hmph. However close Jing gege and I may be, people can always tell he is not my husband. Lu Chengfeng, Lu shige,³ said so, and now this scholar says the same. She pouted and said, “Master Meng loved nothing better than talking nonsense, much like you, I dare say. How can anyone believe a word he said?”

The scholar flared up. “Master Meng was among the greatest of sages and worthies. How can his words not be believed?”

Huang Rong smiled and recited, “When did a beggar ever keep two wives? Where would a neighbour find so many hens? With a Zhou Son of Heaven still on the throne, why all this talk of Wei and Qi?”

The more the scholar thought about it, the more right it seemed. He stood rooted to the spot, and for a long while could not say a word.

The poem was the work of Huang Yaoshi.⁴ He denounced Tang and Wu, scorned the Duke of Zhou and Confucius, and racked his brains to refute and ridicule the words the sages had handed down, composing a great many poems, lyrics and rhapsodies to satirise Confucius and Mencius. Mencius had told a story of a man of Qi who had a wife and a concubine yet went out begging for leftovers, and another of a man who stole one of his neighbour’s chickens every day. Huang Yaoshi declared both stories lies. The last two lines of the poem said that in the Warring States period the Zhou Son of Heaven still reigned, so why did Mencius not go to support the royal house, instead of seeking office from King Hui of Liang and King Xuan of Qi? That was surely a grave departure from the way of the sages.

The scholar thought, The man of Qi and the chicken thief were only parables, not to be taken too literally. But as for those last two lines, even if Master Meng rose from his grave, he would be hard put to answer them. He glanced at Huang Rong again and thought, So young, and so impishly clever. How can it be? He said nothing more and led the two of them on. As they passed the lotus pond and he saw the lotus leaves on the water, he could not help glancing at Huang Rong once more. Huang Rong giggled and turned her head away.

The three of them came to a small temple.

The scholar led them inside and seated them in the east wing. A young novice⁵ brought tea. The scholar said, “Please wait a moment while I inform my shifu.”

Guo Jing said, “Wait! Your farming uncle is stuck on the hillside, holding up a great rock and unable to get free. Please go and rescue him first, Uncle.”

The scholar was startled and ran out at full speed.

Huang Rong said, “You can open the yellow cloth pouch now.”

Guo Jing said, “Ah, if you had not reminded me, I would have forgotten.” He took out the yellow pouch and opened it. Inside, on a sheet of white paper, there was not a single character. Instead a picture was drawn: a man of Sindhu⁶ in a king’s robes was cutting the flesh from his own chest with a knife, his whole body slashed until not an inch of unbroken skin remained, blood streaming down him. Before him stood a balance scale. On one side perched a white dove, and on the other lay the flesh he had cut from himself. Small as the dove was, it outweighed the great pile of flesh. Beside the scale stood a great hawk, savage of aspect.

The brushwork was rather crude. Huang Rong thought, So Yinggu⁷ never learned to paint. Her calligraphy was fine enough, but this picture looks like a child’s scrawl. She studied it for a long while but could not make out its meaning. When Guo Jing saw that even she could not guess it, he decided there was no point in wearing himself out over it either. He folded the picture and held it in his hand.

Footsteps sounded from the hall. The farmer strode in, red-faced and furious, supported by the scholar. He had plainly been crushed by the great rock for so long that he was utterly spent.

After roughly the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, a young novice walked in. He pressed his palms together, bowed, and said, “You have travelled far to this place. May I ask what brings you?”

Guo Jing said, “We have come especially to seek an audience with Emperor Duan.⁸ Please announce us.”

The novice pressed his palms together and said, “Emperor Duan left this mortal world long ago. I am sorry you have made the journey for nothing. Please partake of a vegetarian meal, and I will escort you respectfully down the mountain.”

Guo Jing was bitterly disappointed. He had endured so much hardship to reach this place, only to receive such an answer. What could he do now? But Huang Rong, having seen the temple, had already guessed three parts of the truth, and seeing the young novice’s demeanour, she guessed five or six parts. She took the picture from Guo Jing’s hand and said, “These disciples, Guo Jing and Huang Rong, ask to be received. We hope your honoured master will remember his old friendship with the Nine-Fingered Divine Beggar⁹ and Peach Blossom Island, and grant us an audience. Might I trouble you to present this sheet of paper to him?”

The novice took the picture. He did not dare open it to look, but pressed his palms together, bowed, and turned to go within.

This time he returned before long. Eyes lowered and palms pressed together, he said, “Please come in, both of you.”

Guo Jing was overjoyed. Supporting Huang Rong, he followed the novice inside. The temple seemed small from outside, but within it had considerable depth. The three of them walked along a path of green stone, then passed through a grove of bamboo. The green shade was cool, the stillness serene. Hidden within the bamboo grove were three stone cottages. The young novice pushed open a door softly, stepped aside, and bowed to invite them in.

Guo Jing saw that the novice was respectful and courteous. He smiled and nodded his thanks, then entered side by side with Huang Rong. Inside the room, a small table held a burner of sandalwood incense. On two rush cushions beside the table sat two monks. One had dark skin, a high nose and deep-set eyes, plainly a man from Sindhu. The other wore a coarse-cloth monk’s robe, with two long white brows hanging down from the corners of his eyes. His face was kindly, and though a hidden sorrow lay between his brows, his noble and stately bearing was plain at a glance. The scholar and the farmer stood in attendance behind him.

Huang Rong now had no further doubt. She gave Guo Jing’s hand a light tug, walked up to the long-browed monk, and bowed deeply, saying, “Guo Jing and Huang Rong pay their respects to you, Shibo.¹⁰”

Guo Jing was taken aback, but there was no time to think it through. He followed her to the ground and kowtowed four resounding times.

The long-browed monk smiled faintly, rose, and reached out to help them both up. He said with a smile, “Seventh Brother has taken fine disciples, and Brother Yao has fathered a fine daughter. From what they tell me,” and he pointed at the farmer and the scholar, “the pair of you far outdo my worthless disciples in both letters and martial arts. Ha ha, splendid, splendid.”

Guo Jing thought, He speaks exactly like Emperor Duan. But how could an emperor become a monk? And why did they say he had left this mortal world? It is enough to bewilder anyone. And how did Rong-er know he was Emperor Duan?

The monk said to Huang Rong, “How are your father and your shifu? When your father and I matched our skills at the Huashan Sword Summit¹¹ all those years ago, he was not yet married. Who would have thought that after so many years apart he would have so lovely a daughter? Have you any brothers or sisters? And which senior hero is your mother’s father?”

Huang Rong’s eyes reddened. “My mother bore only me, and she passed away long ago. My maternal grandmother’s family name was Feng. I do not know who my maternal grandfather was.”

The monk patted her shoulder gently to comfort her and said, “I sat in meditation for three days and three nights and only just returned. You must have been waiting a long time?”

Huang Rong thought, From his manner he is truly glad to see us. So all those obstacles to stop us coming up the mountain were his disciples’ idea. She answered, “We have only just arrived ourselves. Luckily these uncles put so many obstacles in our way. Otherwise, even if we had come sooner, with you, Shibo, still in meditation, it would have been no use.”

The monk chuckled. “They are afraid I see too many outsiders. But you two are hardly outsiders, are you? The little girl has a sharp tongue, a family accomplishment, no doubt. Emperor Duan left this mortal world long ago. I am now called the monk Yideng.¹² Your shifu saw me take refuge in the Triple Jewel¹³ with his own eyes. Your father, I dare say, did not know?”

Only now did it dawn on Guo Jing, and he thought, So Emperor Duan shaved his head and became a monk. Once a man leaves the household life he no longer belongs to the mortal world, and that is why his disciples said Emperor Duan left this world long ago. My shifu¹⁴ saw him take the vows with his own eyes, so if he had sent us to find him, naturally he would not have told us to see Emperor Duan. He would have told us to seek an audience with Great Master Yideng. Rong-er is so clever, she guessed it the moment she saw him.

He heard Huang Rong say, “My father did not know. And my shifu never told me.”

Yideng laughed. “Indeed. Your shifu’s mouth goes in more than it goes out. He eats much and speaks little. He would certainly never speak of an old monk’s affairs to anyone. You have travelled far and must be weary. Have you eaten yet? Eh!” At this he gave a sudden start. He took Huang Rong’s hand and led her to the doorway, turned her face towards the sunlight, and studied her closely. The worry on his face deepened moment by moment.

Slow as Guo Jing was, he could see that Great Master Yideng had discovered Huang Rong’s grave injury. His heart ached. Suddenly he dropped to both knees and kowtowed at him repeatedly, the thuds ringing out. Yideng reached under his arm and gave a light lift. Guo Jing felt a great force raise his body. He dared not exert his strength against it, but went with the force and rose slowly to his feet. His voice shaking, he pleaded, “Shibo, I beg you, save her life!”

That lift Yideng had just given was half to spare him further ceremony and half to test his neili.¹⁵ He had used only five parts in ten of his strength. Had he felt Guo Jing unable to bear it, he would have withdrawn at once, so that the young man would never have been sent sprawling. Had Guo Jing proved immovable, he would have pressed harder. In that single lift he could have gauged the depth of the other’s martial arts. Yet Guo Jing had followed the incoming force and risen slowly of his own accord, and dissolved Yideng’s force as naturally as could be. This astonished Yideng more than if he had been immovable. He thought, Seventh Brother has taken on a fine disciple indeed. No wonder my own disciples are ashamed to compare.

Guo Jing had barely finished saying, “Shibo, I beg you, save her life!” when suddenly his footing gave way and he stumbled a step forward in spite of himself. He hastily braced himself and stood firm, but his heart was racing and his breath ragged, and his face had flushed crimson. Badly shaken, he thought, How long Shibo’s neili lingers! I thought I had dissolved it, but he turned my own force back on me. His force was spent, yet a moment later my own rebound pushed me forward. Next to Shibo I am nowhere. Eastern Heretic, Western Venom, Southern Emperor, Northern Beggar. Their fame is truly deserved. His admiration was so total that it showed plainly on his face.

Yideng saw astonishment and admiration mingled in the young man’s gaze. He reached out and patted his shoulder gently. “To reach your level is no small thing either.” Then, still holding Huang Rong’s hand, he turned his head. His smile vanished at once. In a low voice he said, “Child, do not be afraid. Set your mind at ease.” He helped her onto a rush cushion.

In all her life, no one had ever treated Huang Rong with such tenderness. Her father loved her dearly, yet his words and ways were strange and eccentric. When they were together it was as though she were a friend of equal standing, their affection as father and daughter buried deep. Now, hearing these few warm words from Yideng, she felt as though she had suddenly found the mother she had never met. Since her injury she had endured pain and grievance in silence for so long. Now she could hold back no more, and with a wail she burst into tears.

Great Master Yideng soothed her gently. “Good child, don’t cry, don’t cry! Uncle will heal the pain in your body, I promise you.” The more tenderly he spoke, the more a hundred feelings surged in Huang Rong’s heart, and the harder she wept, until at last she was sobbing and could not stop.

Guo Jing, hearing him promise to heal her, was overjoyed. He turned his head and suddenly saw the scholar and the farmer glaring at him, brows raised and eyes bulging, their faces full of fury. He felt contrite, and thought, We only got here because Rong-er tricked and outwitted them. No wonder they are angry. But Great Master Yideng is so gentle and kind, and yet his four disciples were set on stopping us. I wonder why.

Footnotes

1. 孟子 — Mèngzǐ. The Confucian philosopher Mencius (c. 372—289 BCE), second only to Confucius in the orthodox tradition, and the book of his sayings. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 男女授受不亲 — nánnǚ shòushòu bù qīn. Literally men and women do not touch in giving and receiving. From the Mencius, which holds this the rule of propriety, but adds that when an elder brother’s wife is drowning, to give her one’s hand is expediency. ↩

3. 师哥 — shīgē. Male senior, the colloquial form of shixiong. Both apprenticed to the same shifu. Shī means teacher. Gē means older brother. ↩

4. 黄药师 — Huáng Yàoshī. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 沙弥 — shāmí. A novice monk, who has taken the first vows but not yet full ordination. ↩

6. 天竺 — Tiānzhú. The ancient Chinese name for India. ↩

7. 瑛姑 — Yīnggū. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

8. 段皇爷 — Duàn Huángyé. Literally Imperial Lord Duan. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

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

10. 师伯 — shībó. Senior lineage uncle. The shixiong or shijie of one’s shifu. Shī means teacher. Bó means father’s elder brother. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 华山论剑 — Huàshān Lùnjiàn. Literally sword discussion at Huashan. Use of discussion is key as the participants were engaged in a martial arts exchange and a philosophical debate on mastery, rather than just a physical contest. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

12. 一灯大师 — Yīdēng Dàshī. Literally Great Master One Lamp. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

13. 皈依三宝 — guīyī sānbǎo. To take refuge in the Triple Jewel of the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha, the act by which one becomes a Buddhist. ↩

14. 师父 — shīfù. Teacher responsible for technical instruction and moral guidance. Shī means teacher. Fù means father. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

15. 内力 — nèilì. Literally internal force. The kinetic manifestation of cultivated qi. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩