The Heavenly Sword & the Dragon Sabre – Chapter 17 – Part 2

The village girl gripped his hand and said, "A Niu gege,[^gege] I've come ten thousand li from the Central Plains to the Western Regions just to find him. Before this I could still catch whispers of his whereabouts, but since arriving here it's been like a stone sinking into the sea. I can find no trace of him whatsoever. Once your leg heals, help me search for him, and then I'll keep you company while you roam the mountains and rivers. Will you?"

Zhang Wuji could not suppress a surge of resentment, and snorted. The village girl said, “You promised not to be angry, and now look at you.” Zhang Wuji said listlessly, “Very well. I’ll help you find him.”

The village girl was overjoyed. “A Niu gege, you’re truly kind.” She gazed towards the distant line where sky met earth, her heart adrift, and murmured softly, “Once we find him, and he thinks of how long I’ve searched, he won’t be angry with me any more. Whatever he says, I’ll do. I’ll obey him in everything.” Zhang Wuji said, “What’s so marvellous about this beloved of yours that you can’t forget him?” The village girl smiled. “What’s marvellous about him? How could I say? A Niu gege, do you think we’ll find him? Will he still beat me and scold me when he sees me?” Zhang Wuji, seeing her so devoted, could not bear to wound her, and said quietly, “No. He won’t beat you or scold you any more.” The village girl’s lips moved slightly, her eyes brimming, and she too whispered, “Yes. He loves me and pities me. He’ll never beat me or scold me again.”

Zhang Wuji thought, This girl is so devoted to her beloved. If there were someone in this world who cared for me and thought of me with such constancy, I’d gladly bear even greater hardships for the rest of my life. He looked at the two sets of footprints Zhou Zhiruo and Ding Minjun had left side by side in the snow, and thought, If those footprints were mine, and I could walk at Zhou guniang’s¹ side…

The village girl suddenly cried, “Ah! Quick, we must go. If we delay it’ll be too late.” Zhang Wuji roused himself from his reverie. “What’s wrong?” The village girl said, “That Emei Order² girl didn’t want to fight me to the death. She feigned injury and left, but Ding Minjun kept saying she’d take us to see her shifu. Miejue Shitai³ must be somewhere nearby. That old nun is fiercely competitive. How could she not come?”

Zhang Wuji remembered how Miejue Shitai had killed Ji Xiaofu⁴ with a single palm-strike, cruel and merciless, and his heart clenched. “That old nun is terrifying. We’re no match for her.” The village girl asked, “You’ve seen her?” Zhang Wuji said, “The zhangmen⁵ of Emei Order is no ordinary foe. I can’t walk. You’d best flee.” The village girl said angrily, “Hmph! How could I abandon you and save myself? Do you think I’ve no conscience at all?” She pondered for a moment, then took a piece of hard firewood from the pile, twisted soft kindling into rope, and lashed together a sledge. She lifted Zhang Wuji into her arms, straightened his legs, and laid him on the sledge, then pulled him as she ran northwest.

Zhang Wuji watched her slight figure swaying like a lotus in the morning breeze, her silhouette graceful, her posture beautiful as she dragged the sledge across the snow like a gust of wind. She ran without pause, covering thirty or forty li.⁶

Zhang Wuji felt uneasy and said, “Hey, rest a while!” The village girl laughed. “What’s this ‘hey’? Have I no name?” Zhang Wuji said, “You won’t tell me. What can I do? You want me to call you ‘Ugly Girl’, but I think you’re rather good-looking.” The village girl gave a soft chuckle, her breath of relief escaping. She stopped, smoothed her hair, and said, “Very well. I’ll tell you. It doesn’t matter. My name is Zhu’er.⁷”

Zhang Wuji said, “Zhu’er? Pearl? Precious little pearl?” The village girl said, “Pfui! Not the pearl from pearls. The spider from spiders.” Zhang Wuji started. He thought, Who names their child after a spider?

Zhu’er said, “That’s simply my name. If you’re frightened, don’t call it out.” Zhang Wuji asked, “Did your father choose it?” Zhu’er said, “Hmph! If Father had chosen it, do you think I’d keep it? Mother chose it. She taught me the Thousand Spider Ten Thousand Poison Hand,⁸ and said I should bear this name.” When Zhang Wuji heard the words Thousand Spider Ten Thousand Poison Hand, a chill ran through him.

Zhu’er said, “I’ve been practising since I was small, and I’m still a long way from finished. By the time I’ve mastered it, I won’t need to fear that old thieving bald nun.⁹ Want to see?” She drew a golden box, bright and burnished, from her robe. She opened the lid. Inside, two spiders the size of thumbs writhed and stirred. Their backs were patterned with brilliant, vivid designs, striking to behold. The moment Zhang Wuji saw them, he recalled what Wang Nangu’s¹⁰ Poison Classic¹¹ stated: A spider bearing coloured markings is a creature of direst venom. Its bite admits little remedy. Fear seized him.

Zhu’er, seeing his grave expression, smiled. “You know the value of my precious little spiders, then. Wait a moment.” She leapt lightly into a tall tree, surveyed the surrounding terrain, then sprang back to the ground. “We’ll go a little further first. We can talk about the spiders later.” She pulled the sledge and ran another seven or eight li, until they reached the edge of a valley. She helped Zhang Wuji down from the sledge, then loaded it with several large stones. She pulled it at a run and charged towards the valley. At the very brink of the cliff she halted suddenly. The sledge’s momentum carried it on, stones and all, thundering down into the abyss, the echoes lingering long.

Zhang Wuji looked back along the path they had come. Two trails from the sledge wound far across the snow behind them, ending only at the valley’s edge. He thought, This girl is thorough. If Miejue Shitai follows the tracks, she’ll think we’ve plunged into the valley and been dashed to pieces on the rocks below.

Zhu’er crouched down. “Climb on my back.” Zhang Wuji said, “Carry me? That’s far too tiring.” Zhu’er rolled her eyes at him. “Do I not know whether I’m tired myself?” Zhang Wuji dared say no more and climbed onto her back, his arms lightly about her neck. Zhu’er laughed. “Are you afraid of strangling me? So gentle and careful. It tickles dreadfully.” Seeing that she trusted him without suspicion, Zhang Wuji was pleased, and drew his arms tighter. Zhu’er leapt suddenly, bearing him up into the trees.

The line of trees stretched westward. Zhu’er leapt from trunk to crown, from crown to trunk. She was slight of build, and Zhang Wuji considerably taller, yet her footwork was so light and swift that she seemed to bear no burden at all. After seventy or eighty trees she reached a cliff-face, dropped to the ground, and set him down gently. “We could build a cattle-shelter here. It would suit nicely.” Zhang Wuji asked, puzzled, “A cattle-shelter? What for?” Zhu’er laughed. “For the great ox, of course. Aren’t you called A Niu?” Zhang Wuji said, “There’s no need. In four or five days the break will have knit firm. In truth, even now I could manage to walk, if forced.”

Zhu’er said, “Hmph! Manage to walk, and already an ugly brute. Lame as an ox on top? Would that be a fine sight?” She snapped off a branch and began sweeping snow from beside the rocks.

Zhang Wuji, hearing her say lame as an ox, would that be a fine sight, understood at once the concern beneath her words, and his heart stirred. He listened to her hum a little tune as she gathered branches, wedging them between two great stones to form a roof. In no long while she had built a hut just large enough to shelter within, thatched and stone-walled, not unlovely. When Zhu’er had finished the hut she heaped great blocks of snow upon its roof, labouring for the better part of an hour, until from outside not a trace of it could be seen.

She drew a handkerchief and wiped the beads of sweat from her face. “Wait here. I’ll find something to eat.” Zhang Wuji said, “I’m not especially hungry. You’re worn out. Rest a while before going.” Zhu’er said, “If you want to be kind to me, be truly kind. Sweet words alone are no use.” With that she darted swiftly into the wood.

Alone inside the hut, Zhang Wuji reflected that Zhu’er’s voice was soft and tender, her every movement graceful, the bearing of a surpassing beauty in all things, yet her face was marred by such ugliness. He recalled his mother’s words at her death: The more beautiful a woman is, the better she deceives. The more you must guard against her. Zhu’er was not beautiful, yet she treated him exceedingly well. He felt he could spend his life at her side, but she had another in her heart, and took no account of him at all. The thought was bitter.

His mind drifted in tides of fancy. Before long Zhu’er returned bearing two snow-partridges. She kindled a fire and roasted them, and the flavour was beyond compare. Zhang Wuji devoured one clean to the bone, yet remained unsated. Zhu’er pressed her lips together and smiled, then tossed him the two drumsticks she had set aside from her own bird, the choicest portions.

He would have refused, but Zhu’er said fiercely, “Eat what you want. But if anyone is false with me, says one thing and means another, I’ll stab three clear holes through them with my knife.” Zhang Wuji dared say no more and ate the two drumsticks. His mouth greasy, he scooped up a handful of snow from the ground and scrubbed his face, then wiped it on his sleeve.

Zhu’er turned, and seeing his face wiped clean by the snow, paused and stared at him. Zhang Wuji, embarrassed by her gaze, asked, “What is it?” Zhu’er said, “How old are you?” Zhang Wuji said, “Twenty-one.” Zhu’er said, “Mm. So you’re only three years older than me. Why have you grown such a long beard?” Zhang Wuji laughed. “I’ve lived alone in these deep mountains and deserted valleys all this time. I see no one. It never occurred to me to shave.”

Zhu’er drew a small knife with a golden handle from her side and, pressing it against his face, slowly shaved the beard away. Zhang Wuji felt the blade’s edge keen and true, the whiskers falling wherever it passed, whilst her palm and fingers were soft and delicate against his cheek. His heart stirred.

The knife crept towards his throat. Zhu’er laughed. “If I press a little harder and cut across your throat, you’d be dead in an instant. Are you frightened?” Zhang Wuji laughed. “To die beneath a maiden’s jade hand, I would be happy even as a ghost.” Zhu’er reversed the knife and struck his throat hard with the blunt edge, crying, “There! A happy ghost for you!”

Footnotes

1. 姑娘 – gūniang. Young lady. A polite form of address for an unmarried woman. ↩

2. 峨嵋派 – Éméi Pài. The Emei Order, a prominent martial arts order founded by Guo Xiang on Mount Emei. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 师太 – shītài. Honorific title for a senior Buddhist nun. ↩

4. 纪晓芙 – Jǐ Xiǎofú. Her name meaning “Morning Splendour.” ↩

5. 掌门 – zhǎngmén. The head of a martial arts school or order. ↩

6. 里 – lǐ. A Chinese unit of distance, approximately one-third of a mile or five hundred metres. ↩

7. 蛛儿 – Zhū’ér. Literally Spider Girl. Her name derives from the poisonous spiders central to her martial art, the Thousand Spider Ten Thousand Poison Hand. ↩

8. 千蛛万毒手 – Qiān Zhū Wàn Dú Shǒu. Literally Thousand Spider Ten Thousand Poison Hand. A fearsome martial art practised using venomous spiders; the practitioner absorbs spider venom into their body through repeated bites, growing ever more poisonous. ↩

9. Translator’s note: The source reads 贼秃尼 (zéi tū ní), a vulgar insult meaning roughly “thieving bald nun.” The term carries strong contempt and is rendered here to convey Zhu’er’s heated frustration with Miejue Shitai. ↩

10. 王难姑 – Wáng Nàngū. Wife of Hu Qingniu, the famed physician known as the “Divine Doctor.” An expert in toxicology and the author of the Poison Classic. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

11. 毒经 – Dú Jīng. The Poison Classic, a treatise on toxins and their antidotes written by Wang Nangu. ↩