The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 20 – Part 8

Guo Fu, seeing him, was cool and distant. She merely said, “Brother Yang.” Guo Jing reproached her. “Fu’er, earlier when you were captured by the Golden Wheel Imperial Preceptor, if Brother Yang had not risked his life to save you, never mind your own capture, even your mother would have been in grave danger. Why haven’t you properly thanked him?” Guo Fu rose to her feet. “Thank you, Brother Yang, for saving me that day.” Yang Guo said, “We are all family. Why speak of thanks?” Guo Fu sat down without another word. Throughout the meal, her brows were slightly knitted, as if her heart were full of troubles. The Wu brothers also seemed distracted. But Lu Youjiao and Zhu Ziliu were in high spirits, talking endlessly and enthusiastically about the day’s great victory over the Tartars.

By the time the feast ended, it was the first watch of the night. Guo Jing told his daughter to escort Xiaolongnü inside to rest while he himself drew Yang Guo away to share his bed. As Xiaolongnü went inside, she glanced at Yang Guo, her expression full of deep affection and boundless concern, as if urging him to be careful above all else. Yang Guo, afraid of revealing his intentions, turned his head away, not daring to meet her eyes.

Guo Jing led Yang Guo by the hand to his bedchamber. He praised him for holding his own against the Golden Wheel Imperial Preceptor and for twice saving Huang Rong, Guo Fu, and the Wu brothers, once at the wine house, once in the Stone Formation. Then he asked about his experiences since they had parted. Yang Guo, fearful that too many words would betray him, said nothing of meeting Cheng Ying, Lu Wushuang¹, Shagu², or Huang Yaoshi. He simply said, “After I was wounded, I recovered in a desolate valley. Later, I found my teacher, and we came together to find Uncle Guo.”

As Guo Jing undressed for bed, he said, “Guoer, with powerful enemies pressing at our borders, the Great Song realm truly hangs by a thread. Xiangyang is the shield protecting half the Great Song’s territory. If this city falls, I fear our millions of Song subjects will all become slaves to the Mongols. I have seen with my own eyes the horrors of how Mongols slaughter other peoples. It truly makes one’s blood boil.” Hearing this, Yang Guo recalled the terrible, hateful scenes of Mongol soldiers’ atrocities along the road. He could not help grinding his teeth, his heart full of fury.

Guo Jing continued, “We who train in martial arts, what do we do it for? To act righteously, to aid those in distress, these are, of course, our duty. But that is only the chivalry of lesser men. The reason the jianghu³ honours me with the title ‘Hero Guo’ is because they respect my devotion to country and people, my willingness to defend Xiangyang without regard for my own life. Yet my abilities are limited. I cannot relieve the people’s suffering. I am truly unworthy of the word ‘hero.’ Your intelligence and wisdom surpass mine tenfold. Your future achievements will certainly far exceed my own, that goes without saying. I only hope you will engrave these eight words firmly upon your heart: ‘Serve the country, serve the people, this is what makes a true hero.’⁴ One day, when your name is known throughout the world, you will become a true hero, revered by all.”

These words were spoken with utter sincerity and earnestness. Yang Guo listened, deeply moved. Seeing the solemn dignity in Guo Jing’s expression, though he knew this man was his father’s murderer, he could not help feeling a surge of genuine respect. He answered, “Uncle Guo, after you die, I will surely remember the words you spoke tonight.”

Guo Jing never imagined that Yang Guo intended to assassinate him this very night. He reached out and stroked Yang Guo’s head. “Yes, give your all until the end. If the nation falls, your Uncle Guo’s life cannot be preserved either. I have heard that Kublai is skilled in the art of war. Today’s retreat is only temporary, he will certainly return. In these next few days, there will be a great, decisive battle. We shall fight with magnificent fury. It is late, let us sleep.”

Yang Guo answered, “Yes.” He undressed for bed, keeping the dagger he had brought from Passionless Valley pressed close against his flesh. I will wait until you are deep in sleep, he thought, then give you one thrust beneath the blankets. Even if your martial arts were a hundred times greater, how could you evade that?

Guo Jing had fought fiercely that day and was greatly drained. The moment his head touched the pillow, he fell into deep slumber. Yang Guo’s mind was a storm of thoughts, how could he sleep? He lay on the inner side of the bed, head to foot with Guo Jing. He could hear Guo Jing’s breathing, steady and even, each inhalation and exhalation spaced far apart. Secretly, he admired the depth of Guo Jing’s neili. After a long while, silence reigned in every direction, only the distant sound of the night watch from the defending troops could be heard. Quietly, he sat up and drew the dagger from within his clothes. After I stab him dead, he thought, I will go kill Huang Rong. What can a pregnant woman about to give birth do to stop me? Once the deed is done, I can go with Gugu to Passionless Valley and get the other half of the antidote. After that, we will live in seclusion in the ancient tomb and enjoy all the blessings of human life. Who cares whether this world belongs to the Great Song or to Mongolia?

At this thought, he felt immensely pleased with himself. Suddenly, from the neighbouring house, a child began to wail loudly, followed by the sound of a mother soothing it. Gradually, the child quieted and fell asleep. Yang Guo’s heart jolted. He suddenly remembered what he had seen on the road days before, a Mongol warrior using his long spear to pierce an infant’s belly, then lifting it high in the air as sport, the baby not yet dead, still screaming in agony. He thought, To assassinate Guo Jing now, it would be as easy as lifting my hand. But once he is dead, Xiangyang will be impossible to defend. The thousands upon thousands of infants in this city, will they not all be slaughtered for sport by Mongol soldiers? To avenge my personal grudge, I would cause the deaths of countless innocents. Would that not be a terrible wrong?

Then he thought again: But if I do not kill him, how will Qiu Qianchi ever give me the other half of the Passion Severing Pill? If I die, Gugu cannot live either. His love for Xiaolongnü was beyond anything in this world. He hardened his heart. Enough, enough. What do I care about the people of Xiangyang? What do I care about the Great Song’s realm? In my suffering, apart from Gugu, who ever truly pitied me? The world has never loved me, why should I love the world? He raised the dagger, channelling his strength into his right arm, and aimed the tip at Guo Jing’s chest.

The candle in the room had long gone out, but Yang Guo could see in darkness. He could make out shapes, albeit dimly. Just as the dagger was about to descend, he looked at Guo Jing’s face. It was kind and gentle, calm and at peace, he slept with the serenity of deep contentment. Suddenly, all the memories of Guo Jing’s care and protection during his youth came flooding back: how warmly Guo Jing had treated him on Peach Blossom Island, how he had travelled a thousand li to send him to Mount Zhongnan to study the martial arts, how he had wanted to betroth his only daughter to him. He could not help thinking: Uncle Guo has been upright his entire life, open, honourable, a truly loyal and generous elder. Given his character, he could not have killed my father. Could it be that Shagu, in her madness, was babbling nonsense? I swore an oath with Sister Cheng Ying, before I raise my hand to kill Guo Jing, I must think three times, until my thoughts are perfectly clear. Have I truly thought this through? If I drive this blade home and it turns out I have killed a good man, then ten thousand deaths could not atone for it. Wait. I must probe this matter and understand it clearly before I act.

Slowly, he withdrew the dagger. He began to examine every event since he had first met Guo Jing and his wife, turning each memory over in his mind. He recalled how Huang Rong had always looked at him with ill-concealed displeasure. Several times, when the couple had been discussing something, they had changed the subject the moment they saw him. There was something important they were hiding from him, of that there could be no doubt. He thought further, Why did Auntie Guo, when she took me as her disciple, only teach me to read books and refuse to pass on even a trace of martial arts? Uncle Guo has treated me so well, is it not because he killed my father and his conscience torments him, so he treats me well as a form of atonement? But if he truly killed my father, how can he be so completely unguarded around me, sharing a bed, letting me lie here where I could stab him to death with a single thrust? He stared at the bed canopy, thoughts surging like the tide, restless and tormented.

Guo Jing’s neili was of the highest order. Even in sleep, he sensed that Yang Guo’s breathing had become rapid and irregular. He opened his eyes and woke. “Guoer, what’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Yang Guo gave a slight start. “Nothing.” Guo Jing laughed. “If you’re not used to sharing a bed, I can sleep on the table.” Yang Guo said hurriedly, “No, it’s fine.” Guo Jing said, “Good, then sleep quickly. Those who study martial arts must above all learn to calm and focus the mind.” Yang Guo answered, “Yes.”

After a moment, Yang Guo could bear it no longer. “Uncle Guo,” he said, “that year you sent me to study at Chongyang Palace, at the foot of Mount Zhongnan, in a temple, I asked you something.” Guo Jing said, “What about it?” Yang Guo said, “You struck the stone tablet in anger then, causing the Quanzhen Daoists to misunderstand. Do you still remember what I asked?” Guo Jing thought back. “Yes, that day you asked me how your father died.” Yang Guo raised his head and stared at him. “No. I asked you, who exactly killed my father.” Guo Jing said, “How do you know your father was killed by someone?” Yang Guo said, his voice hoarse, “Did my father die a natural death?”

Guo Jing fell silent. After a long while, he let out a deep sigh. “He did indeed die tragically. But no one killed him. He killed himself.” Yang Guo sat up, his emotions surging violently. “You’re lying to me! How can anyone in this world kill themselves? Even if my father took his own life, there must have been someone who drove him to it.”

Grief welled up in Guo Jing’s heart, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Slowly, he said, “Guoer, your grandfather and my father were sworn brothers, closer than blood. Your father and I also swore an oath of brotherhood. If your father died unjustly, how could I not avenge him?”

Yang Guo’s body trembled. The words nearly burst from his lips: You killed him yourself, how could you avenge him? But he knew that if he spoke these words, Guo Jing would be on his guard, and assassination would become far more difficult. He nodded and remained silent.

Guo Jing said, “The matter of your father’s death is full of twists and turns, it cannot be told in a few words. When you asked about it back then, you were still young and could not understand the complexities. That is why I did not tell you. Now you have grown up and can clearly distinguish right from wrong. Once we have driven off the Tartars, I will tell you the whole story from the beginning.” He lay back on his pillow and returned to sleep.

Yang Guo had always known Guo Jing as a man whose word was absolute, he never spoke falsely. Hearing these words, he was torn between belief and doubt. He cursed himself inwardly: Yang Guo, Yang Guo, you have always acted with bold decisiveness, pressing forward without hesitation. Why are you so timid and wavering today? Are you afraid, deep down, of his martial prowess? If you hesitate and waver tonight and miss this chance, and tomorrow Huang Rong sees through you, then even Gugu may die without a burial place. The thought of Xiaolongnü rekindled his resolve. He reached inside his clothes and felt the dagger. The blade, pressed against his flesh, had grown warm.

Footnotes

1. 陆无双 – Lù Wúshuāng. Her name meaning “peerless” or “without equal”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 曲傻姑 – Qū Shǎgū. Daughter of Qu Lingfeng; mentally impaired but possesses formidable martial arts taught by Huang Yaoshi. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 江湖 – jiānghú. Literally rivers and lakes. Itinerant world beyond settled society and official reach, holding not only martial artists but the trades that travel with them, including pedlars, physicians, fortune-tellers, entertainers, boatmen, beggars, outlaws and the like. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

4. 为国为民，侠之大者 – “Serve the country, serve the people — this is what makes a true hero”. Wèi Guó Wèi Mín, Xiá zhī Dà Zhě. This is the single most famous line in the entire Condor Heroes trilogy and perhaps in all of Jin Yong’s work. It crystallises the novel’s moral philosophy: true heroism is not measured by martial prowess or personal vengeance, but by selfless devotion to one’s country and people. Chapter title “侠之大者” (What Makes a True Hero) derives directly from this line. It marks the pivotal moral turning point for Yang Guo and is the thematic heart of the entire novel. ↩