The Return of the Condor Heroes Chapter 7 – Part 2

Seeing how truly Yang Guo cared for Xiaolongnü, Li Mochou felt envy and resentment at once. She thought of how faithlessly Lu Zhanyuan had used her, and her brows shot up. “Shimei,”¹ she cried, “you really are blessed.” Resentment flared in her. She would not let her shimei enjoy a true-hearted lover either, and her long jian darted at Yang Guo’s throat. Xiaolongnü saw that she meant to kill. With the moment upon her she had no choice but to save him, and her left hand flicked out a volley of more than ten Jade Bee Needles.

Li Mochou sprang into the air to avoid the golden needles. Xiaolongnü had already pulled Yang Guo to the doorway. She looked back. “Shijie,² broken vow or no, the four of us are fated to die together in this tomb. I don’t wish to see your face again. Let’s each die our own death.” She pressed a spot in the corner of the wall, and a stone door dropped down and parted the four of them once more.

Xiaolongnü was so overwrought that for a while she could not walk. Yang Guo helped her to Granny Sun’s room to rest. He poured two cups of Jade Bee Honey Paste,³ helped her drink one, and drank the other himself. Xiaolongnü sighed softly. “Guoer, why were you willing to die for me?” “You’re the only one I have in the world,” said Yang Guo. “You’re good to me, and I can’t bear to leave you. How could I not die for you?” Xiaolongnü said nothing. After a long while she said, “If I’d known, we needn’t have come back in to die with them. But then, if we hadn’t come back, I’d never have known you were willing to die for me, and my vow wouldn’t count as broken.” “Let’s think of a way to get out,” said Yang Guo. “What do you say?” “You don’t know how cleverly this ancient tomb was built,” said Xiaolongnü. “We can never get out now.” Yang Guo sighed.

“You regret it, don’t you?” said Xiaolongnü. “No,” said Yang Guo. “In here I’m with you, and out there in the world there’s nobody who cares for me.” Xiaolongnü had once forbidden him to talk about her caring for him, and he had never raised it since. But her heart had changed now, and the words filled her with a great warmth. “Then why did you sigh?” she asked. “I was thinking,” said Yang Guo, “if the two of us went down the mountain together, there are so many wonderful things to do in the world. With you there with me, nothing could make me happier.”

Xiaolongnü had grown up in the ancient tomb from the time she was a baby, and her heart had always been as still as water. Her shifu and Granny Sun had never told her anything about the world outside, so she had no way to picture it. Now Yang Guo’s words set her thoughts surging like a tide. Hot blood rose in her chest, wave after wave. She tried to circulate her qi to subdue it, but nothing would calm her, and she was secretly amazed. She had never known such a state in all her life, and supposed it was because her strength was slow to return after so grave an injury. What she did not know was that to crush the seven emotions and six desires⁴ with the discipline of stillness is to work against nature. The feelings are not done away with. They are only held down by force. She was past twenty now. Disaster had fallen on her without warning, and here was a young man willing to die for her. Her true feelings could not help but rise. It was as if a dyke had burst: tenderness came flooding in, and a thousand thoughts crowded upon her at once.

She sat on the bed and worked her neigong for a while, but grew only more restless. She walked about the room, and the more she walked the more stifled she felt. Her steps quickened until she was running. Yang Guo saw both her cheeks burning red and her face full of agitation. He had never seen her like this since the day they met, and it frightened him. Xiaolongnü ran for a while, then sat down on the bed again. She looked at Yang Guo and saw his face full of concern and tender pity, and her heart suddenly stirred. I’m going to die anyway, and so is he. What does it matter now that we’re shifu and disciple, aunt and nephew? If he came and held me, I wouldn’t push him away. I’d let him hold me tight.

Yang Guo saw the light moving in her eyes and her breast heaving as she panted, and thought her wound had broken out again. “Aunt, what’s wrong?” he cried. “Guoer, come here,” Xiaolongnü said softly. Yang Guo went to the bedside as she told him. Xiaolongnü took his hand and stroked her own cheek with it. “Guoer,” she murmured, “do you like me?” Her face felt as hot as fire. Yang Guo was frantic. “Is your chest hurting very badly?” he asked, his voice shaking. Xiaolongnü smiled. “No. I feel wonderful inside. Guoer, I’m going to die soon. Tell me, do you really, truly like me?” “Of course,” said Yang Guo. “You’re the only one I have in the world.” “If some other girl treated you the way I do,” said Xiaolongnü, “would you be good to her too?” “Whoever’s good to me, I’m good to them,” said Yang Guo. The moment the words were out, he felt Xiaolongnü’s hand shudder in his, and all at once it went cold as ice. He looked up. The rosy, lovely flush had gone from her face, and it was as pale as it had always been.

Yang Guo’s heart lurched. There are thousands upon thousands of girls in the world. If thousands upon thousands of them were all good to me, would I like all those thousands upon thousands of girls? Take that little Daoist nun Hong Lingbo. When she held me and talked to me so warmly, it was pleasant enough, but how could she ever compare with Aunt? “Aunt,” he said, “being good to them isn’t the same as how I feel about you. Back there, when you dropped the Dragon-Breaking Stone and I thought I’d never be with you again, it was worse than dying. I’d rather starve to death with you in this ancient tomb, or be beaten to death by Li Mochou together with you. Aunt, if I can’t be at your side, I’d sooner be dead. If there were some other girl in the world who was as good to me as you are, I’d think her a good person, only a good friend, that’s all, but I could never die for her.”

“Why?” said Xiaolongnü. “Is it because I’m good to you?” “Aunt, I like seeing you and being near you,” said Yang Guo. “Whether you’re good to me or not has nothing to do with it. If you beat me and scolded me every day, if you cut a fresh scar on me with your jian every single day, I’d still truly like you. Even if Heaven made me a dog or a cat, and you whipped me and kicked me every day, I’d still follow at your heels. Aunt, all my life long, you’re the only one I’ll ever like.” Xiaolongnü smiled sweetly. “That’s very good. I feel the same about you.”

Shifu and disciple had been together morning and night in the stone tomb. Feeling had long since grown between them in secret and sunk its roots deep, though neither had ever quite recognised it. Apart from martial arts they talked of nothing in their daily life, and only now, at the threshold of death, did they truly understand the depth of feeling in their hearts, and find that they could not bear to be parted. Xiaolongnü was very happy. “Then my mind’s at rest,” she sighed, and held his hand tight and would not let it go. Yang Guo felt warmth flowing from her hand into his, wave after wave.

“Guoer,” said Xiaolongnü, “I’ve been so wicked.” “No,” Yang Guo said quickly, “you’ve always been good.” Xiaolongnü shook her head. “I was so cruel to you before. At first I wanted to throw you out, and it was only thanks to Granny Sun that you stayed. If I hadn’t tried to throw you out, Granny Sun wouldn’t have died!” As she said it the tears welled up and spilled over. She had not shed a tear since she began her training at the age of five. Now, weeping again, she was shaken to the depths. Every joint in her body cracked and creaked, and she felt as if her power and neili were draining out of her. Yang Guo was terrified and could only cry, “You… Aunt, what’s wrong? How do you feel?”

At that very moment came a grinding rumble, the stone door was pushed open, and in walked Li Mochou and Hong Lingbo. With the Dragon-Breaking Stones down, Li Mochou had reasoned that she was a dead woman either way and need no longer fear the deadly traps that riddled the tomb. She had steeled herself and pushed on, and had actually made her way through several stone chambers to Granny Sun’s room. She congratulated herself in secret, thinking her luck extraordinary to have come so far without setting off a single trap. She never guessed that the tomb’s mechanisms had been built to hold off whole companies of Jin⁵ troops. They were all made of huge stones, cumbersome and heavy, and needed someone to work them before they could fight off an enemy. Since Xiaolongnü was not springing them on her, the mechanisms naturally lay still. Li Mochou had lived in the ancient tomb as a girl and knew roughly how the main mechanisms were built and worked. But since her shifu had resolved not to pass the mantle to her, she had never been told how to set off the tomb’s many ingenious devices.

Yang Guo sprang forward at once and planted himself in front of Xiaolongnü. “Step aside,” said Li Mochou. “I have something to say to my shimei.” Yang Guo was wary of some trick to harm his shifu and would not budge. “Say it from there.” Li Mochou stared at him for a while, then sighed. “A man like you is rare indeed in this world.” Xiaolongnü suddenly rose to her feet. “Shijie, what are you saying about him? Is he good or not?” “Shimei,” said Li Mochou, “you’ve never been down the mountain. You don’t know how wicked men’s hearts are. A man of such deep feeling and such loyalty as this one, you could search the whole wide world and never find another.” Love had broken her heart, and in her grief and bitterness she could not help overstating it, writing off every true-hearted man under heaven.

Xiaolongnü was overjoyed and comforted. “Then if he dies here with me,” she said softly, “my life won’t have been wasted.” “Shimei,” said Li Mochou, “what exactly is he to you? Have you married him?” “No,” said Xiaolongnü. “He’s my disciple. He says that all his life long I’m the only one he’ll ever like. He’d rather die than leave me.”

Li Mochou was baffled. She shook her head. “Shimei, let me see your arm.” With her left hand she gently took Xiaolongnü’s hand, and with her right she pushed up the sleeve. On the snow-white skin lay a single crimson dot: the Guardian Palace Sand⁶ their shifu had placed there. Li Mochou was secretly impressed, thinking, These two have lived cheek by jowl in the ancient tomb, yet they’ve kept to propriety. She’s still a maiden as pure as ice and jade. She rolled up her own sleeve. Her dot of Guardian Palace Sand was every bit as bright, red enough to drip, and the two white arms side by side were a lovely sight. But she had kept herself chaste only because she had no choice, whereas her shimei had a man willing to die for her and had still kept herself as pure as jade. One was easy and the other hard, and the gulf between them was wide. At this thought she could not help heaving a long sigh, and she let go of Xiaolongnü’s arm.

“What was it you wanted to say to me?” asked Xiaolongnü. Li Mochou had meant to shame her: to say she had seduced a man and disgraced their shimen, and goad her into such a storm of shame and anger that she let slip how the tomb’s exit worked. But now there was nothing left to say. She pondered for a moment and hit on a new idea. “Shimei, I’ve come to beg your pardon.” Xiaolongnü was taken completely by surprise. She had always known her shijie to be proud and haughty, a woman who would never bow her head to anyone, and she could not tell what she meant by this. “You go your way and I go mine,” she said coolly. “Each of us does as she likes. There’s no need to beg anyone’s pardon.” “Shimei, listen to me,” said Li Mochou. “For us women, the greatest blessing in life is a man whose heart is true. As the ancients said, ‘A priceless treasure is easy to find; a loving man is hard to come by.’⁷ I, your shijie, have had a bitter lot, and the less said about it the better. But this boy treats you so well that you truly want for nothing.” Xiaolongnü smiled. “I am very happy. He’ll always be good to me. I know it.”

Envy rose in Li Mochou, and she thought of her own misfortune. “Little shimei,” she said slowly, “you’ve lived your whole life in this stone tomb, and the only man you know is him. You don’t know that in this world, most men are faithless. Truly loyal to you? I’m afraid there isn’t half of one. Your shijie had a sweetheart once. He said every sweet thing a man can say to me, swore he’d die for me a thousand times, ten thousand times, and never regret it. Then we were apart for just two months, and he met a young, pretty girl and at once was utterly taken with her. When he saw me again he wouldn’t even look at me, as if we’d never met. I asked him what was the matter. And he said, ‘Miss Li, you and I are friends of the jianghu,⁸ bound by honour. I’m grateful for all your past kindness, and should I ever have the chance to repay it, I’ll not forget.’ Then he had the brazen face to say, ‘Miss Li, on the twenty-fourth of next month I’m marrying Miss He in Dali.⁹ If you’re free, do come and drink at the wedding.’ I was so angry I coughed up blood on the spot and fell senseless. He brought me round, helped me to an inn to rest, and walked off without a backward glance.” As she repeated the words Lu Zhanyuan had used to cast her off, her face and voice were those of a heartless, faithless man to the life, only steeped in the deepest bitterness and hatred. And in truth, all these years she had gone over and over those words of his, every hour of every day.

Footnotes

1. 师妹 – shīmèi. Female junior. Both apprenticed to the same shifu. Shī means teacher. Mèi means younger sister. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 师姐 – shījiě. Female senior. Both apprenticed to the same shifu. Shī means teacher. Jiě means older sister. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 玉蜂浆 – Yùfēng Jiāng. Honey-like substance produced by the jade bees kept by the Ancient Tomb School. It serves as both a nourishing tonic and an antidote to the bees’ venom. ↩

4. 七情六欲 – qīqíng liùyù. In traditional Chinese thought, the seven emotions are joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hate, and desire; the six desires arise from the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind. ↩

5. Jin Dynasty (金朝). Jurchen-led dynasty (1115–1234) that ruled northern China during this period. Wang Chongyang’s volunteer army fought against the Jin, who had conquered the Central Plains from the Song dynasty. ↩

6. 守宫砂 – shǒugōng shā. Traditional folk belief: a crimson dot applied to a maiden’s arm, said to vanish if she lost her chastity. ↩

7. “A priceless treasure is easy to find; a loving companion is hard to come by” (易求无价宝，难得有情郎). Line from the Tang dynasty poetess Yu Xuanji (鱼玄机). Full couplet reads: “易求无价宝，难得有心郎” (A priceless treasure is easy to find; a man with a true heart is hard to come by). Li Mochou adapts “有心郎” (a man with heart) to “有情郎” (a loving companion). ↩

8. 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. ↩

9. 大理 – Dàlǐ. Historical kingdom in present-day Yunnan Province (937–1253), contemporaneous with the Song dynasty. In the Condor Trilogy it is associated with the Duan imperial family and Great Master Yideng. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩