The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 16 – Part 6

The old man scooped up the plate with his right hand and held it before his chest. Suddenly a piece of beef leapt up off the plate and flew into his mouth as if it were alive. Kublai, much amused, took it for a conjuring trick and cheered. But State Preceptor Jinlun and the others knew the old man was putting force into one spot of his palm to drive a single piece of beef up off the plate. An ordinary man, striking hard through the bottom of a plate, might well make the beef jump, but all the meat would fly up at once in a spray of gravy. To make the pieces leap out one at a time was quite impossible. The old man’s palm force had reached the point where it did whatever he asked of it, and everyone at the table, knowing they could not do the same, was filled with awe.

The old man chewed without a pause. No sooner had he swallowed one piece than another leapt up from the plate, and in a moment he had eaten half the plateful. When he had had enough, he gave a light flick of his right hand and the plate flew up out of it, curved through the air and sailed towards Yang Guo and Yin Kexi. Seeing how formidable his skill was, the two of them feared he had put some strange hidden force into the plate. They dared not reach out to catch it, but quickly stepped aside, one each way. The plate came skimming in flat along the tabletop and struck squarely against a plate of roast mutton, which flew off towards the old man, while the beef plate spun round a few times on the table and came to rest. What he had used was Taiji Force,¹ which comes round and round like the taiji diagram, without beginning or end. Had he thrown the plate in an open space, it would have circled round him. Putting out such force is not particularly hard, and many conjurors are adept at it. What was hard was judging the force so exactly that the plate struck the table just so, the empty plate stopping and another plate of food sent into his hands.

The old man roared with laughter, hugely pleased with himself, and with a surge of force through his palm the roast mutton too began leaping up piece by piece into his mouth. The sorriest figures of all were the four Mongol warriors. They could not pull their spears back however hard they tried, yet they dared not let go. Mongol military law was very harsh: to throw down one’s weapon in the face of the enemy was a crime punished by beheading, and besides, the four of them bore the grave charge of guarding the Fourth Prince. So they could only heave for all they were worth.

Seeing them at their wits’ end, the old man was delighted beyond measure. Suddenly he shouted, “Change, change, change, two of you knock your heads to me and two of you fall flat on your backs! One, two, three!” The word “three” was barely out of his mouth when his arm shook and all four spears snapped together. His five fingers had pulled in different directions, pushing out on two of the spears and drawing in on the other two. There was a chorus of yelps, and sure enough two of the warriors pitched forward on their faces as if kowtowing, while the other two went sprawling on their backs. The old man clapped his hands and sang:

“Little baby, roll the silver ingot, Fall down hard, grow up tall!”

It was a nursery rhyme that grown-ups sing to comfort a child who has taken a tumble.

It suddenly dawned on Yin Kexi. “Would the Senior’s surname be Zhou?” he asked. The old man laughed. “That’s right. Ha ha, so you know me?” Yin Kexi rose to his feet and saluted with fist in palm. “So it is the Old Urchin Zhou Botong,² Esteemed Senior Zhou, who has come.” Xiaoxiangzi had long heard of him, but State Preceptor Jinlun and Nimoxing knew nothing of Zhou Botong’s fame. Still, seeing how profound his martial arts were and how mischievous and harum-scarum his behaviour, they felt he truly lived up to the name of Old Urchin. At once their hostility eased, and smiles appeared on every face.

State Preceptor Jinlun said, “Forgive this old monk’s poor eyes for not recognising a Senior of the wulin. Won’t you take a seat? His Highness thirsts for men of worth, and he will be overjoyed to meet so great a master today.” Kublai saluted with joined hands. “Indeed. Please be seated, Mister Zhou.” Zhou Botong shook his head. “I’ve eaten my fill, I don’t need any more. Where’s Guo Jing? Is he here?” Yang Guo had heard Huang Yaoshi tell how Zhou Botong and Guo Jing had sworn brotherhood. “What do you want him for?” he said coldly.

Zhou Botong had always been as innocent as a child, and nothing pleased him more than making friends with children. Seeing that Yang Guo was the youngest at the table, he took to him from the start, and hearing Yang Guo call him plain “you”, without any “Esteemed Senior” or “Mister Zhou”, pleased him all the more. “Guo Jing is my sworn brother,” he said. “Do you know him? He’s liked being with Mongols ever since he was little, so whenever I see a yurt I pop in to look for him.” Yang Guo frowned. “What do you want with Guo Jing?” Zhou Botong had not a guarded bone in his body and would never have thought of hiding what was on his mind. He answered offhand, “He sent someone with a letter asking me to the Heroes’ Assembly. I came all that long way, played about a bit on the road and got there a few days late, and they’d all gone home already. Most disappointing.” Yang Guo said, “Didn’t they leave a letter for you?”

Zhou Botong rolled his eyes. “Why do you keep cross-examining me? Do you know Guo Jing or don’t you?” Yang Guo said, “Of course I know him. Madam Guo is called Huang Rong, isn’t she? And their daughter is called Guo Fu,³ isn’t she?” Zhou Botong clapped his hands and laughed. “Wrong, wrong! That girl Huang Rong is only a little girl herself. How could she have a daughter?”

Yang Guo was taken aback for a moment, then understood. “How many years is it since you last saw the two of them?” he asked. Zhou Botong counted on his fingers, bending each of the ten twice over. “Twenty years at least, I should think,” he said. Yang Guo laughed. “Well then, would she still be a little girl after twenty years? Couldn’t she have had a child in all that time?”

Zhou Botong roared with laughter until every hair of his white beard fluttered. “You’re right, you’re right! That young couple, is the girl they had a pretty one?” Yang Guo said, “The girl takes more after Madam Guo than after Guo Jing. Would you call that pretty or not?” Zhou Botong chuckled. “That’s all right, then. If a girl had thick eyebrows, big eyes and a dark face like my brother Guo, she’d hardly be a beauty.” Yang Guo knew that he no longer had any doubts, but to make his trust surer still he added, “Huang Rong’s father, the Master of Peach Blossom Island, Brother Huang Yaoshi, is a good friend of mine. Do you know him?” Zhou Botong stared. “You little rascal, how can you call Old Heretic Huang your brother? Who is your shifu?” Yang Guo said, “My shifu’s skills are tremendous. If I told you, I’m afraid it would frighten you out of your wits.” Zhou Botong laughed. “It’ll take more than that to frighten me.” He flicked his right hand, and the empty plate went flying at Yang Guo with a whirring rush of air, its force extraordinarily fierce.

Yang Guo had long known that Zhou Botong was the shishu⁴ of Ma Yu, Qiu Chuji and the rest, and he saw, too, that when Zhou Botong threw, his arm did not bend inward but the force came wholly from his fingers. It was the Quanzhen Order’s own technique, and Quanzhen martial arts held no terrors for Yang Guo. He put out his left forefinger and propped it under the plate, and the plate went spinning merrily round on his fingertip.

Zhou Botong was delighted, of course, and Xiaoxiangzi, Yin Kexi, Nimoxing and the rest were all stirred. At first Xiaoxiangzi had seen only a ragged youth of tender years and thought nothing of him. But now he thought, The way that plate came flying, I’d not have dared reach out to catch it with my hand, let alone with one finger. Misjudge the force coming in by the least little bit, and your wrist would snap. Who on earth is this boy?

“Good!” Zhou Botong cried, several times over. But he had also seen that propping the plate on a finger was a Quanzhen technique, and he asked, “Do you know Ma Yu and Qiu Chuji?” Yang Guo said, “Those two little ox-nosed brats?⁵ How could I not know them?” Zhou Botong was overjoyed. He had no real quarrel with Qiu Chuji and the others, but he had always felt they had far too many rules and precepts and were much too stiff, and in his heart he could not truly respect them. The men he admired most in all his life were, besides his shixiong Wang Chongyang, the wild, unconventional Nine-Fingered Divine Beggar Hong Qigong. And with Huang Yaoshi’s crookedness, Guo Jing’s dogged simplicity and Huang Rong’s cleverness he felt a vague sense of being birds of a feather. So it was music to his ears to hear Yang Guo call Ma Yu and Qiu Chuji “little ox-nosed brats”. “And Hao Datong and the rest,” he asked, “how are they getting on?”

At the name Hao Datong, Yang Guo’s anger flared. “That ox-nose is a thorough scoundrel,” he swore. “One day I’ll give him a real taste of suffering.” Zhou Botong grew keener and keener. “What kind of suffering will you give him?” he asked. Yang Guo said, “I’ll catch him, tie him hand and foot, and soak him in a dung vat for half a day.” Zhou Botong was overjoyed. “When you’ve caught him,” he whispered, “don’t rush to dunk him in the vat. Tell me first, and let me watch the fun on the sly.” In truth he bore Hao Datong no ill will whatever. It was just that he loved mischief by nature, and whenever others were playing pranks and fooling about, it was so much to his taste that he simply had to join in. Yang Guo laughed. “All right, I’ll remember. But why do you need to watch on the sly? Are you afraid of the Quanzhen ox-noses?” Zhou Botong sighed. “I’m Hao Datong’s shishu! When he sees me, of course he’ll yell for help. If I don’t save him then, it’ll be awkward, but if I do, I’ll miss the show.”

Yang Guo pondered to himself, This man’s martial arts are tremendous, and he’s simple and likeable too. I might as well make friends with him. But he’s Quanzhen after all, and Guo Jing’s sworn brother. A man bent on great things can’t be squeamish over small ones. I must find some way to be rid of him. Zhou Botong had no idea that a venomous thought had stirred in Yang Guo’s heart. “When are you going to catch Hao Datong?” he asked again. Yang Guo said, “I’m going right now. If you like a bit of fun, come with me. Better still, help me catch him!”

Footnotes

1. 太极劲 – Tàijí Jìn. Type of neili based on the principles of taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), characterised by circular, continuous movement that neutralises and redirects opposing force. Concept predates the formal Taijiquan style but embodies the same principles of yielding and redirection. ↩

2. 周伯通 – Zhōu Bótōng. His name meaning “elder who understands all”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 郭芙 – Guō Fú. Her name meaning “lotus”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 师叔 – shīshū. Junior lineage uncle. Shidi or shimei of one’s shifu. Shī means teacher. Shū means father’s younger brother. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 牛鼻子 – niú bízi. Literally ox-nose, a derogatory term for Daoist priests, alluding to the topknot that resembles an ox’s nose. ↩