The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 3 – Part 4

How long passed he could not tell. Then Guo Jing and Huang Rong came running. Guo Jing picked up Wu Xiuwen and began to knead and press his chest and belly. Huang Rong went to Yang Guo. “Where’s Ouyang Feng? Where is he?” Yang Guo stared blankly and made no answer. “When did he teach you the Toad Skill?” Huang Rong asked again. Yang Guo seemed to hear her, and yet seemed not to. His eyes gazed vacantly ahead, and his lips were pressed tight together, as though he was afraid a single word might slip out. When he took no notice of her, Huang Rong seized him by both arms. “Speak! Where is Ouyang Feng?” Yang Guo never moved.

Before long Wu Xiuwen came round under Guo Jing’s kneading and the neili he poured into it, and then Ke Zhen’e arrived with Guo Fu. Guo Fu had told him how Yang Guo stood on his head, and how he had “killed” Wu Xiuwen, and when Ke Zhen’e realised that the boy was Ouyang Feng’s disciple, all the hatred that filled his breast turned on him at once. He heard Huang Rong ask again and again, “Where’s Ouyang Feng?” and Yang Guo pay her no heed whatever, and he strode forward, raised his iron staff high and roared, “Where is that villain Ouyang Feng? Tell me, or one blow of this staff will be the death of you!”

Yang Guo had stopped caring whether he lived or died. “He’s not a villain!” he shouted. “He’s a good man. Kill me if you like, I won’t say a word.” Ke Zhen’e, in a towering rage, brought the staff slashing down. “Eldest shifu, don’t…” cried Guo Jing. There was a loud smack, and the iron staff grazed past Yang Guo’s side and drove into the sand. Ke Zhen’e had thought that killing so small a child would not do after all, and as the staff came down he had let his aim stray a little.

“You still won’t tell?” said Ke Zhen’e harshly. “If you’ve got the guts, kill me,” Yang Guo shouted. “You think I’m afraid of an old blind man like you?” Guo Jing leapt forward and slapped him hard across the face. “How dare you insult your Grand Shifu!” Yang Guo did not cry. He only said coldly, “None of you needs to lift a hand. If you want my life, I’ll die by myself!” And he turned and ran for the sea.

“Guoer, come back!” Guo Jing shouted. Yang Guo ran all the faster. Guo Jing was about to go after him when Huang Rong said quietly, “Wait!” Guo Jing stopped at once, and they watched Yang Guo run straight into the sea and plunge in among the breakers. “He can’t swim,” Guo Jing said in alarm. “Ronger, quick, we must save him.” And again he made to go in after him. “He won’t die,” said Huang Rong. “There’s no need to fret.” A little later, when Yang Guo still had not come back, she could not help admiring his pride all the same, and she dived into the sea and swam out. She was a superb swimmer, and pulling someone out of the sea close to shore was nothing to her. She went down under the water, towed Yang Guo back, laid him on a rock and left him to bring up the seawater and come round in his own time.

Guo Jing looked at his shifu, then at his wife. “What shall we do?” “He learned this skill before he came to Peach Blossom Island,” said Huang Rong. “If Ouyang Feng had come to the island, we could not possibly have failed to know it.” Guo Jing nodded. “How badly is Little Wu hurt?” Huang Rong asked. “I’m afraid it will take him a month or two to recover,” said Guo Jing.

“Tomorrow I’m going back to Jiaxing,” said Ke Zhen’e. Guo Jing and Huang Rong looked at each other. Both knew what he meant: he would never live in the same place as Ouyang Feng’s disciple. “Eldest shifu,” said Huang Rong, “this is your home. Why should you make way for that boy?”

That evening Guo Jing called Yang Guo into his room. “Guoer,” he said, “what’s past is past, and we’ll say no more about it. But you insulted your Grand Shifu, so you can’t stay in my school. From now on, just call me Uncle Guo. Your Uncle Guo is no good at teaching, and I’m afraid I would only hold you back. In a few days I’ll take you to Chongyang Palace¹ on Zhongnan Mountain² and ask Perpetual Spring,³ Qiu⁴ the Perfected One⁵ of the Quanzhen Order, to take you into the school. The martial skill of the Quanzhen Order is the orthodox line of the wulin.⁶ Work hard at Chongyang Palace, cultivate your mind and temper your nature, and I hope that one day you’ll be an upright man.”

“Yes, Uncle Guo,” said Yang Guo. From that moment he changed the way he addressed him, and no longer acknowledged Guo Jing as his shifu.

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Early one morning Guo Jing got up, packed silver and baggage, took leave of his Eldest shifu, his wife, his daughter and the Wu brothers, and set off with Yang Guo. They went by boat to the Zhejiang coast and landed there. Guo Jing bought two horses, and they travelled north, setting out at dawn and stopping at nightfall. Yang Guo had never ridden before, but he was quick and nimble, and after a few days’ practice he handled the reins with ease. Being a boy and fond of mischief, he was forever galloping on ahead of Guo Jing.

Before many days had passed they crossed the Yellow River and came into Shaanxi. By this time the Great Jin had been destroyed by the Mongols, and everything north of the Yellow River was Mongol land. In his youth Guo Jing had been a general in the Mongol army, and he was afraid that if he ran into men who had served under him there would be trouble. So he exchanged their good horses for two of the thinnest, ugliest donkeys to be had, dressed in old, shabby clothes and made himself look just like a farmhand from the country. Yang Guo too put on a long coat of coarse cloth, wound a blue cloth round his head and sat astride a scrawny donkey. The donkey was bad-tempered and slow, and Yang Guo spent all day on the road at odds with it.

One day they came to Fanchuan,⁷ which is already the country of Zhongnan Mountain. It takes its name from Fan Kuai,⁸ the great general who helped found the Han at the start of the dynasty, and who once held it as his fief. Along the way the ridges and hills wound round them, pines and cypresses stood thick and shady, and between them stretched paddy fields and vegetable gardens. It looked very like Jiangnan.

Since leaving Peach Blossom Island Yang Guo had been sulking, and he had not said a word about anything on the island. But now he could not help himself. “Uncle Guo, this place is a bit like our Peach Blossom Island.” When he heard him say “our Peach Blossom Island”, Guo Jing felt a pang of sadness. “Guoer,” he said, “Zhongnan Mountain isn’t far from here now. Study well under the Quanzhen Order, and in a few years I’ll come and fetch you home to Peach Blossom Island.” Yang Guo jerked his head aside. “I’ll never go back to Peach Blossom Island as long as I live.” Guo Jing had never thought to hear words so final from a boy so young. He was taken aback and could find nothing to say. After a long while he said, “Are you angry with Auntie Guo?” “How would I dare?” said Yang Guo. “It’s only that I made Auntie Guo angry, that’s all.” Guo Jing, who was clumsy with words, said nothing more.

The two of them climbed the ridge, and towards noon they reached a temple on its crest. Over the gate Guo Jing saw a plaque with three large characters, Puguang Monastery.⁹ He tied the donkeys to a pine outside and went in to beg a meatless meal. There were seven or eight monks in the monastery, and seeing how plainly Guo Jing was dressed, they were very cold to him. They gave the pair two bowls of plain noodles and seven or eight steamed buns.

Guo Jing and Yang Guo sat on a stone bench under a pine to eat their noodles. As he turned his head, Guo Jing noticed a stone stele behind the pine, half hidden in tall grass, with only the two characters for “Perpetual Spring”¹⁰ showing. Something stirred in him. He went over and brushed the grass aside to look, and found carved on the stele a poem by Qiu Chuji, Perpetual Spring. It ran:

Vast and grey, O heaven, you look down on the earth below:
Why will you not save all living things from their pain?
Day and night all living things torment one another;
Choking on breath and swallowing cries, they die without a word.
They cry aloud to heaven, and heaven does not answer;
Each paltry creature wears its body out in vain.
Oh, that the great world might return to chaos,
And spare the Maker from bringing living souls to birth.¹¹

When Guo Jing read the poem, all that had happened in the Mongolian desert more than ten years before came back to him, and he stood stroking the stele in silence. Then he remembered that he would soon be seeing Qiu Chuji again, and his heart lifted.

“Uncle Guo, what does it say on this stele?” asked Yang Guo. “It’s a poem by your Patriarch Qiu,”¹² said Guo Jing. “He saw how much the people of the world suffer, and it grieved him deeply.” He explained the poem’s meaning, then said, “The martial skill of Qiu the Perfected One is outstanding, of course, but this heart of his, that loves and protects all the people, is still more to be revered. Your father was Patriarch Qiu’s favourite disciple in his day. For your father’s sake, Patriarch Qiu is sure to treat you well. Put your heart into your training, and one day you’ll achieve great things.”

“Uncle Guo, there’s something I’d like to ask you,” said Yang Guo. “What is it?” said Guo Jing. “How did my father die?” Guo Jing’s face changed. He thought of what had happened in the Iron Spear Temple at Jiaxing, a slight tremor ran through him, and he said nothing, his face dark. “Who killed him?” asked Yang Guo. Still Guo Jing did not answer.

Yang Guo remembered how, whenever he asked his mother how his father had died, a strange look would come over her face and she would avoid answering. He had felt, too, that though Guo Jing was very warm and kind to him, Huang Rong kept him at a distance and was wary of him. Young as he was, he sensed there must be something hidden in all this, and now he could not stop himself. “It was you and Auntie Guo who killed my father, wasn’t it?” he shouted.

Guo Jing flew into a rage. His hand came down hard on the stele beside him. “Who taught you to talk such nonsense?” he said harshly. By now his strength was prodigious, and a blow struck in such fury set the stele rocking back and forth. When Yang Guo saw how angry he was, he quickly hung his head. “I know I was wrong. I won’t dare talk nonsense again. Don’t be angry, Uncle Guo.”

Guo Jing had always been very fond of him, and when the boy owned his fault, his anger melted away. He was just about to say a few words of comfort when, behind him, someone said “Eh?” in a tone of great surprise. He turned round and saw two middle-aged Daoists standing at the monastery gate, staring hard at him, their faces full of indignation. They must have seen him strike the stele just now.

Footnotes

1. 重阳宫 – Chóngyáng Gōng. Main temple of Quanzhen Order on Zhongnan Mountain. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 终南山 – Zhōngnán Shān. Sacred Daoist mountain housing both Quanzhen Order and Ancient Tomb School. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 长春子 – Chángchūnzǐ. Daoist name of Qiu Chuji, one of the Seven Masters of Quanzhen, meaning Perpetual Spring. ↩

4. 丘处机 – Qiū Chǔjī. His name meaning “dwelling in opportunity”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 真人 – zhēnrén. The Perfected One; literally true person. Honorific title for a Daoist master of the highest attainment. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

6. 武林 – wǔlín. Literally martial forest. Those who actually practise, teach or study martial arts. 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. ↩

7. 樊川 – Fánchuān. Region at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain, named after Fan Kuai, a general who helped Liu Bang found the Han dynasty. ↩

8. 樊哙 – Fán Kuài. Prominent military general of the early Han dynasty, known for his bravery and loyalty to Liu Bang, the founding emperor. ↩

9. 普光寺 – Pǔguāng Sì. Puguang Monastery, a Buddhist monastery on the approach to Zhongnan Mountain. Puguang means universal light. ↩

10. 长春 – Chángchūn. Perpetual Spring, part of Qiu Chuji’s Daoist name. ↩

11. 丘处机诗 – Qiū Chǔjī shī. Poem by Qiu Chuji reflecting his Daoist worldview and compassion for human suffering. Final couplet expresses a radical Daoist sentiment: that it would be better if the universe returned to primordial chaos than for sentient beings to continue suffering. ↩

12. 祖师 – zǔshī. Literally ancestral master. Founder of a school, the source of a lineage rather than a rung on it. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩