The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 17 – Part 6

Hearing that he was willing to stay for the wedding, Gongsun, the Valley Master, was overjoyed. He said to the young woman, “These are all masters of the jianghu. To invite even one would be a tremendous honour, to have invited… to have invited…” He had meant to say “six,” but he felt Yang Guo was frivolous and young. Watching him exchange moves with Zhou Botong earlier, his postures had been elegant, but his power seemed shallow. His martial learning was probably flashy and insubstantial, he could not be counted among the “masters of the jianghu.” Yet to exclude him and say only “five” would be too obvious. After a brief hesitation, he continued, “…to have invited this assembly of heroes.” He left it at that. Guoshi thought to himself, “This Valley Master carries himself with great authority. Judging by the way he deployed the fishing net to capture Old Imp, his martial skill and strategic mind are both formidable. Yet his tolerance is small. Yang Guo exchanged only a few words with Xiaolongnü, and he already holds a grudge.”

Gongsun, the Valley Master, said, “Sister Liu, this is Jinlun Guoshi…” He introduced each person in turn, finally giving Yang Guo’s name. As the young woman heard each name, she merely nodded slightly, her face wooden, as though nothing in the world concerned her. But toward Yang Guo, she did not even nod, her eyes turned toward the outside of the hall.

Yang Guo’s face was flushed crimson. His heart churned like an overturned river, an inverted sea. He heard not a single word of what Gongsun, the Valley Master, said. Yin Kexi and the others, not knowing his background, assumed he had merely mistaken someone’s identity and was now ashamed.

Gongsun Lü’e stood behind her father. Not one word or gesture of Yang Guo’s had escaped her eyes or ears. She thought to herself, “This morning his finger was pricked by the passion flower thorn, and he immediately suffered the pain of longing. Judging by his state now, can it be that this new mother of mine is the one in his heart? How could matters in this world coincide so perfectly? Could it be that he and these people came to our valley in truth because of my new mother?” She turned to study the “new mother” and saw on her face neither joy nor shyness. She truly did not look like someone about to become a bride. Her suspicions deepened.

Yang Guo’s chest felt stuffed and suffocated, as though he were about to stop breathing. Then a thought turned in his mind: “Gugu is determined not to acknowledge me. She must have some other scheme. I should find another way to probe the truth.” He rose and bowed to the Valley Master, saying in a clear voice, “This young one has an esteemed relation whose features closely resemble… closely resemble this young lady’s. Just now, failing to look carefully, I mistook her. I beg your forgiveness.”

Hearing these courteous, well-composed words, Gongsun, the Valley Master, immediately changed his expression. He returned the bow and said, “Mistaking one person for another is common enough. What blame is there? Only…” He paused and smiled. “That there should exist under heaven another person of such appearance, that is not only coincidence but truly strange beyond measure.” The implication was clear: where else under the broad sky could there be another woman of such beauty?

Yang Guo said, “Indeed. This young one finds it strange as well. May I be so bold as to ask this young lady’s surname?” Gongsun, the Valley Master, smiled faintly. “Her surname is Liu.¹ Might your esteemed relation also be surnamed Liu?” Yang Guo said, “No, not so.” Inwardly he pondered: “Why would Gugu change her surname to Liu?” A thought stirred. “Ah, because my surname is Yang.”² As this thought turned, his finger erupted in sharp pain again.

Gongsun Lü’e, seeing his anguished expression, felt great sympathy. Her gaze never left his face.

Gongsun, the Valley Master, studied Yang Guo for a moment, then glanced at the young woman in white. She sat with lowered head and drooping brows, utterly silent. Doubt rose in his heart. He thought, “Just now, when she heard this boy call out, I seemed to hear her say, ‘Guoer, Guoer, where are you? Is that you calling me?’ Can it be that she truly is this boy’s Gugu? Yet why would she not acknowledge him?” He was about to question her but considered that with so many outsiders present, this matter could wait until after the wedding. The words reached his lips, but he swallowed them back.

Yang Guo continued, “This Miss Liu surely cannot have been born and raised in this valley. May I ask how the Valley Master came to know her?”

In ancient times, women of good family never lightly showed themselves to outsiders, and certainly never received guests on their wedding day. But Jinlun Guoshi and the others were either Mongol monks, Western Region foreigners, or eccentric wanderers of the rivers and lakes, none of them constrained by conventional etiquette. They thought nothing unusual of the young woman in white appearing before them, only finding it rather inappropriate that on this auspicious day she should be dressed entirely in mourning white. Hearing Yang Guo inquire about how the Valley Master had met her, a matter touching on private affairs, they all felt he was going too far.

Yet Gongsun, the Valley Master, was himself curious to learn his bride’s origins. He thought, “It is possible this boy truly does know Sister Liu.” He said, “Brother Yang’s surmise is correct. Half a month ago, I went to the mountainside to gather medicinal herbs and found her lying at the foot of the mountain, gravely wounded, her breath faint. Upon examining her, I found she had suffered a deviation while training neili.³ I brought her back to the valley and used our family’s secret remedies to help her recover. As for how we came to know each other, it was truly by chance.”

Guoshi interjected, “This is precisely what they call a thread of fate drawing two together across a thousand li.⁴ I imagine Miss Liu, moved by gratitude, pledged herself in return. Truly a match of talent and beauty, a perfect union ordained by heaven.” His words seemed to flatter the Valley Master, but his true intent was to wound Yang Guo.

At these words, Yang Guo’s face changed colour drastically. His whole body trembled, his chest burned with pain, and suddenly a great mouthful of fresh blood sprayed onto the floor.

Seeing this, the young woman in white said in a trembling voice, “You… you…” She hurriedly rose and reached out as if to support Yang Guo’s arm but forced herself to stop. Her entire body shook, and she too spat a mouthful of blood onto her chest, the crimson stark against her white robe.

This Miss Liu was none other than Xiaolongnü under an assumed name. That night at the inn, after hearing Huang Rong⁵’s words, she had turned them over in her mind, weighing them through the long night. Finally, steeling her heart, she had slipped away in silence. She thought that if she returned to the ancient tomb, he would surely come searching. So she wandered alone and desolate through the wild plains and remote valleys. One day, sitting alone in meditation, thoughts of love suddenly surged like a tide, impossible to restrain. Her internal breath abruptly rampaged through her meridians, triggering a recurrence of her old injury. Had Gongsun, the Valley Master, not passed by and rescued her, she would already have perished on that desolate mountain.

Gongsun, the Valley Master, had long been without a wife. Seeing Xiaolongnü’s exquisite, delicate beauty, beyond anything he had ever imagined in his life, he could not help but add tenfold attentiveness to his lifesaving efforts. At that time, Xiaolongnü was utterly despondent. She thought that living alone from now on, she would surely be unable to control herself and would eventually repeat the same mistake, going again to seek Yang Guo and bringing harm upon him. Seeing the Valley Master’s tender affection and hearing his proposal of marriage, she hardened her heart and agreed. She thought that once she became another man’s wife, this ill-fated bond with Yang Guo would be severed with a single stroke. Moreover, this secluded valley was rarely visited by outsiders. She expected never to see him again in this life. How could she have known that Old Imp would suddenly appear to cause havoc and actually lead him into the valley?

Now, suddenly reunited with Yang Guo, Xiaolongnü’s heart was tangled in a thousand knots, impossible to untie. She thought, “Since I have already promised to marry another, I should pretend not to recognise him. Let him leave in fury and hate me for the rest of his life. With his talent and looks, why should he worry about finding no gentle lady, no beautiful companion to match him? In this way, though I suffer heartbreak all my life, he can live peacefully and happily.” Thus, seeing Yang Guo’s desperate anguish, she forced herself to suppress her own pain and treated him with cold indifference. But the grief in her heart grew harder and harder to bear. Now, seeing him vomit blood, filled with both pity and sorrow, she could not stop her own blood from surging upward and bursting forth.

Her face deathly pale, she swayed unsteadily, about to retreat into the inner chambers. Gongsun, the Valley Master, said hastily, “Sit quickly. Do not move, you must not agitate your meridians.” He turned his head and said to Yang Guo, “Leave now. And never come back.”

Yang Guo’s eyes brimmed with hot tears. He said to Xiaolongnü, “Gugu, if I have done wrong, you may beat me, curse me, even kill me with a single sword stroke, and I would accept it gladly. But how can you not acknowledge me?” Xiaolongnü lowered her head in silence and coughed softly.

That day, after hearing Huang Rong’s earnest counsel, Xiaolongnü had pondered deeply. If she and Yang Guo became husband and wife, she herself would of course be happier than ever, but Yang Guo would inevitably suffer the mockery of all the heroes under heaven. Even Guo Jing⁶ and Huang Rong, whom he most revered, would try to kill him. He would certainly not be happy. And if the two of them dwelled forever in the ancient tomb, never emerging into the world, with Yang Guo’s lively, restless nature and his love of excitement and company, he would eventually sink into melancholy. That too would mean only her own happiness while making Yang Guo unhappy. She loved Yang Guo with all her heart. For this young man, even if she herself had to endure the agony of a thousand cuts and ten thousand sword wounds, she would accept it as sweet as honey. Whether they entered the world or withdrew from it together, she herself would find lifelong joy, but Yang Guo would have to forcibly suppress his suffering for her sake. In all her life, though neither her shifu nor Grandma Sun had ever discussed the true meaning of love with her, her love for Yang Guo had reached such depths that she naturally felt she ought to let her beloved be happy while she herself bore the heartbreak. “Who should have joy, and who should suffer?” In this matter, anyone who truly loved another with deep feeling would find the choice easy. Once she had thought this through, weeping until her room at the inn was drenched in tears, her resolve was set. From then on, she could never turn back. Yang Guo assumed Xiaolongnü was angry with him and therefore refused to acknowledge him. In truth, the reason Xiaolongnü would not recognise him was born entirely from the depths of her love for him. She only hoped that for the rest of his life, he would know joy. All the heart-slicing, knife-twisting agony, she would taste it all alone. If their positions were reversed, Yang Guo’s love for her being no weaker than hers for him, the decision he would make would also be: “Let the other have joy, while I bear the heartbreak.”

Gongsun, the Valley Master, seeing Yang Guo provoke his beloved into vomiting blood, was already seething with fury. But his self-cultivation was excellent, and he did not explode. Lowering his voice, he said, “If you do not leave now, do not blame me for showing no mercy.”

Yang Guo’s eyes were fixed on Xiaolongnü. He paid the Valley Master no attention. Pleading, he said, “Gugu, I promised to stay with you in the ancient tomb all my life, never to regret it. Let us leave together.”

Xiaolongnü raised her head. Her gaze met his. She saw in his face infinite, devoted love, ten thousand kinds of sorrow and anguish. Her heart wavered. She thought, “I will go with him now!” But immediately she thought, “My parting from him was not born of momentary impulse. I weighed it carefully, over and over, good and bad. If I cannot endure for this one moment now, I will leave him with a lifetime of suffering.” She turned her head away and sighed deeply. “I do not know you. I do not understand anything you are saying. Everything I do is for your own good. Go now, go in peace.” These words were spoken weakly, with hardly any strength. Yet they were filled with tender, loving devotion. Aside from Ma Guangzuo, who was too dull to sense anything, every person in the hall knew she harboured deep love for Yang Guo and that these words went against her heart.

Gongsun, the Valley Master, could not help but feel a great surge of jealousy. He thought, “Though you have consented to marry me, you have never spoken to me with such deep affection, even half a sentence.” He glared sidelong at Yang Guo. The boy had fine, clear features, a spirited and striking bearing. He and Xiaolongnü were indeed a pair of youthful beauties. The Valley Master mused, “It seems these two must be a pair of lovers. Due to some falling-out, Sister Liu agreed to marry me in anger, but in truth she has not forgotten this boy at all. ‘Gugu,’ ‘Master’, these must be the pet names they use between themselves.” At this thought, his gaze grew even more venomous.

Footnotes

1. 柳叶刀 – Liǔyè Dāo. Literally willow leaf blade. Thin, curved single-edged saber named for its shape, widely favoured in the jianghu for its lightness and sharp cutting edge. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. “Because my surname is Yang”. Yang Guo’s surname 杨 (Yáng) and the willow 柳 (Liǔ) are both types of trees, creating a subtle poetic connection. In Chinese culture, willows and poplars are often paired in poetry and art. ↩

3. 走火 – Zǒuhuǒ. Dangerous condition in internal martial arts where the practitioner’s qi deviates from its proper channels, often caused by emotional disturbance during meditation. Can be fatal without intervention. ↩

4. 里 – lǐ. Traditional Chinese unit of distance, approximately 500 metres or a third of a mile. ↩

5. 黄蓉 – Huáng Róng. Her name meaning “lotus” or “hibiscus”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 郭靖 – Guō Jìng. His name meaning “tranquillity” or “pacification”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩