Twin Blades of the Storm Dragon Chapter 1 – Part 2

After having breakfast in Chen Boyu’s¹ chamber, Zhang San² returned to his own room, where he stamped his feet and cursed silently, Damn him! Ruining my precious blade with that accursed sword of his! He thinks nothing of a Beijing armed escort chief! A few pretty words and a belly full of wine, and he reckons the debt is settled? I, Zhang San, am not so easily slighted. Sooner or later, I shall have satisfaction!

Vexed and brooding, he threw himself upon the bed and fell into a fitful slumber.

How long he lay there, he could not say. He woke to a voice calling from beyond the window, “Younger Brother Zhang! Younger Brother Zhang! There’s a boat on the river! Let us depart together!”

Zhang San rolled from the bed and flung open the door to find Chen Boyu standing in the rain, clad in rain cloak and a broad straw hat, his black horse’s reins in hand.

“What hour is it?” Zhang San demanded.

“Just past noon,” Chen Boyu replied. “If we cross now and the horses prove swift, we might lodge Xuzhou³ tonight.”

At the prospect of reaching Xuzhou that very evening—far beyond where Lu Yinsong⁴ could possibly catch up with him—Zhang San’s spirits lifted at once.

“Good, good!” he said eagerly, and called for the innkeeper to ready his horse and gathered his belongings. He reached instinctively for his precious blade before remembering that Chen Boyu’s sword had sheared it clean in two. The fresh surge of bitterness in his heart made him considered refusing to travel with the man, but then he thought, I haven’t a weapon to defend myself now. Should Lu Yinsong overtake me, what have I to set against that iron staff of his? Won’t I be a dead man then?

And so he snatched up his pack, secured it to his saddle, and left with Chen Boyu.

They mounted and rode abreast, their horses’ hooves beating a steady rhythm through the downpour until they reached the banks of the Yellow River.⁵ Two ferries bobbed upon the current, yet not a single passenger waited to board. Chen Boyu negotiated the fare with the boatmen, and then the two men led their horses onto one of the vessels. The boat drifted out into the stream, rain pattering from above while the turbid waters churned below. Both banks stood empty; save for the two ferryman on the boat.

Zhang San gripped his horse’s lead and stood upon the deck. Though he felt no dizziness, a nameless dread crept into his heart. Is Chen Boyu friend or foe? he wondered. Should he prove false and conspired with Lu Yinsong the Iron Staff, a single shove would send me into these waters to drown, and my wife and children back home would never know what became of me.

Thus he fixed Chen Boyu with wary, suspicious eyes. But Chen Boyu merely stood at ease, making idle conversation with the boatmen.

An age seemed to pass before Zhang San saw the far shore drawing near. Once they had disembarked and mounted, his spirits rose.

“Elder Brother Chen,” he urged, “let us make haste! Once we reach Xuzhou city, I shall rest but a single night before pressing on for home. My wife and little ones will be fretting themselves sick by now!”

“I too am bound for home to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival,” Chen Boyu said. “I have no wife, only a daughter, thirteen years old this year, and clever as they come. Were it not for an old friend I had to visit, I should never have ventured so far from her.”

“Ride on, Elder Brother!” Zhang San pressed. “Take the lead—make haste!”

Chen Boyu spurred his horse forward and fell silent. Yet though his sword was keen beyond measure, his black mount was sluggish, and the mired road made for slow going. After half a day’s riding, they had covered perhaps thirty li⁶ at most.

Zhang San kept glancing over his shoulder. Presently he spied two horses galloping toward them through the rain, still distant but closing fast. His blood ran cold. He whipped his mount past Chen Boyu and cried out, “Ride! Quickly!”

Chen Boyu turned to look, then calmly reined in his horse and smiled as he said, “Fear not. Should your enemies approach, my sword shall answer them.”

But Zhang San’s panic only deepened. His blade was gone, and the two riders bearing down upon them through the curtain of rain were none other than Lu Yinsong and his companion. While still some distance away, Lu Yinsong raised his great iron staff, thick as a man’s wrist, high above his head on his mount.

Zhang San drove his horse forward an arrow’s flight, but the muddy ground betrayed him; his mount’s forehoof slipped, and he nearly pitched from the saddle. He looked back to see Chen Boyu draw his sword and wheel his horse to meet the two pursuers. Words were exchanged though they failed to reach Zhang San’s ears, and then all three men dismounted at the same time to fight.

Lu Yinsong brought his iron staff crashing down toward Chen Boyu’s crown. But Chen Boyu did not raise his blade to parry. He slipped aside and uncoiled the Rain-Soaring Azure Dragon,⁷ his sword lancing toward his opponent’s chest. Lu Yinsong hastily retreated a step, swinging his staff to deflect the thrust. Chen Boyu withdrew the blade in the same instant, vaulted behind his foe, and brought his sword sweeping down in a brilliant arc. Lu Yinsong spun and threw up his staff to block.

The ring of metal upon metal carried even to where Zhang San sat his horse. The iron staff had been sheared into two.

Lu Yinsong staggered back several paces, still clutching half a staff, but he dared not press the engagement further. His companion had already retreated even further. Chen Boyu spoke a few words to them with a smile on his face, then mounted his horse and rode to Zhang San’s side.

“You may rest easy now!” He said, waving a dismissive hand. “I have driven them off.”

He examined his blade’s edge, found it unmarred, and slid the sword back into its scabbard.

Zhang San’s face had gone the colour of old ash. Merciful heaven, he thought. An iron staff thick as a walnut, severed by the legendary sword! He could probably cut an iron pillar with that blade?

He followed Chen Boyu southward in silence. After ten li or so, when he looked back and saw no sign of Lu Yinsong’s horses, he finally let out a long breath and some colour returned to his cheeks. Their mounts slowed.

Zhang San’s eyes gazed at the sword at Chen Boyu’s saddle with covetous wonder.

Chen Boyu turned his head sideways on his horse to address Zhang San. “Younger Brother, the moment I laid eyes on you back in Hebei,⁸ I could tell from your anxious manner that someone was hunting you. You and I were strangers then, and I had no cause to make enemies on your behalf. But I’d damaged your weapon at the inn, and I could see you were an honest sort, that’s why I agreed to travel with you and offer my protection.

“Tonight we’ll reach Xuzhou, and tomorrow I’ll find you a proper dao in the city. Then I’ll escort you as far as Xiping County⁹ before we part ways. Rest easy, with me at your side, Lu Yinsong is the least of your concerns. Even Miao Lijiu¹⁰ of Huainan,¹¹ whose martial skills surpass Lu’s and whose staff is both thicker and heavier, would pose me no great difficulty. But I must counsel you to cease this habit of trifling with respectable women. Such conduct is the most dishonourable for a man of the jianghu.”¹²

Zhang San’s face reddened, and he mumbled his defence. “I’d had too much wine that day. I only touched the woman’s foot by accident, how was I to know she was Lu Yinsong’s wife?”

Chen Boyu could not help but smile at Zhang San’s foolish earnestness, finding in it further proof of the man’s honest nature. He said, “We’d best ride on!”

He spurred his horse forward, and Zhang San kicked his mount to follow close behind. After another thirty-odd li, however, Zhang San found himself trailing by more than half a li, gasping for breath. Resentment simmered in his heart. Damn you, Chen Boyu! All that time your horse was deliberately holding back, just so Lu Yinsong could catch up and you could show off that sword of yours. Curse your scheming heart—I don’t need your charity!

The two horses pressed on until dusk, the rain still falling, before they finally reached Xuzhou. They found lodgings at an inn outside the north gate. The innkeeper was well acquainted with Chen Boyu and greeted him warmly. “Master Chen, you’ve returned! You left at the end of the sixth month. It’s been over a month now. And your esteemed surname, this sir? Will you be sharing a room, or taking two?”

“Two single rooms,” said Chen Boyu.

The innkeeper arranged two adjoining chambers. Once inside his room, Zhang San was utterly spent. He collapsed onto the bed, gasping for breath, thinking, Between the fright, the fury, and the wind and rain battering me all day, both man and horse are exhausted. If every day were like this, I’d be dead within a fortnight.

Light seeped through the gaps in the wooden partition from Chen Boyu’s room next door, and Zhang San could hear him humming contentedly some tune in the bangzi¹³ style. A sudden impulse seized Zhang San, and he clambered up to peer through the cracks in the wall. He saw Chen Boyu cradling the Rain-Soaring Azure Dragon in both hands, examining it meticulously by lamplight, as though he still feared the blade might have been nicked when it sheared through the iron staff. The mere sight of that sword banished all thoughts of fatigue from Zhang San’s mind. He yearned to reach through the partition and seize it for himself. He swung down from the bed and walked into Chen Boyu’s room.

Chen Boyu glanced up. “Younger Brother, are you not weary from today’s journey?”

Zhang San said with a laugh, “Not at all. I’ve been knocking about the jianghu¹² for over a decade—you think a trifling ride like today’s could tire me?”

Chen Boyu smiled. “Well spoken! A shizhi¹⁴ of mine will be arriving shortly, and I mean to treat you both to wine.”

His gaze returned to the blade. Zhang San stepped closer and asked eagerly, “No damage, I trust?”

Chen Boyu looked up and said, “Damage? Not in the slightest. Had Lu Yinsong come at me with an iron roof-beam instead of that staff, I’d still have cleaved it in two with this sword. See for yourself, not the slightest nick.”

Zhang San took the sword in trembling hands. He brought it close to the lamp and examined every inch of the blade, even scrutinising the seven gold stars¹⁵ inlaid along its length, his eyes wide with wonder. In his heart he prayed that Chen Boyu might suddenly feel generous and say, “Keep it. Consider it recompense for your ruined precious dao.”

But Chen Boyu promptly reclaimed the weapon, wiping it carefully with a velvet cloth as though fearful Zhang San’s sweaty palms had soiled it.

Zhang San watched forlornly as Chen Boyu sheathed the sword in its iron case and set the case upon his bed. Chen Boyu gestured toward a stool. “Please, sit.” He continued, “The Rain-Soaring Azure Dragon and the Wind-Singing White Dragon¹⁶—both swords are in my possession. The White Dragon is somewhat shorter and lighter, so I gave it to my daughter to wield.”

Zhang San asked at once, “How does the White Dragon compare to this one? If they were to clash, which would be damaged?”

“They are equal,” said Chen Boyu. “Forged in the same furnace at the same time—naturally there is nothing to choose between them. The only difference is a slight variation in colour, perhaps owing to how one is used more often than the other. But later generations insisted on distinguishing them as elder and younger brother, and further assigned them as auspicious or inauspicious. It is said that he who bears the ill-omened blade invites disaster, while he who carries the fortunate one attracts good fortune.”

“And which is the Soaring Dragon?” Zhang San asked. “Auspicious or inauspicious ?”

Chen Boyu smiled. “This one is ill-omened.”

Footnotes

1. 陈伯煜 – Chén Bóyù. His name meaning “Elder Radiance” or “Brilliant Elder.” See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 张三 – Zhāng Sān. Literally Zhang Three or Third. A common way to refer to someone by their surname followed by their position in the family or household. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

3. 许州 – Xúzhōu. Historical name for Xuchang in Henan Province. See Wikipedia. ↩

4. 鲁荫松 – Lǔ Yìnsōng. His name meaning “Sheltering Pine”. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

5. 黄河 – Huánghé. Literally yellow river. China’s “Mother River” notorious for catastrophic floods yet vital for agricultural civilisation. See Wikipedia. ↩

6. 里 – Lǐ. Traditional Chinese unit of distance, approximately 500 metres or 0.31 miles. Hence 30 li is approximately 15 kilometres or 9.3 miles. ↩

7. 苍龙腾雨 – Cānglóng téng yǔ. Literally azure dragon soaring through rain. ↩

8. 河北 – Héběi. Literally north of river. Historical region and modern province in North China, located north of the Yellow River. See Wikipedia. ↩

9. 西平县 – Xīpíng xiàn. County in southeastern-central Henan Province. See Wikipedia. ↩

10. 苗丽九 – Miáo Lìjiǔ. His name meaning “Standing Nine” or “Establishing Nine.” ↩

11. 淮南 – Huáinán. Literally south of Huai. North-central Anhui Province, located south of Huai River. See Wikipedia. ↩

12. 江湖 – jiānghú. Literally rivers and lakes. The world of martial arts. A sub-society involving all who are related to the martial arts scene. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩ ↩²

13. 梆子 – bāngzǐ. Also known as clapper opera. A type of Chinese opera music characterised by rhythmic wooden clappers. See Wikipedia. ↩

14. 师侄 – shīzhí. Disciple of one’s senior or junior. Shī means teacher. Zhí means nephew or niece. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

15. Translator’s note: Seven stars likely represent the Big Dipper constellation, a common motif on Chinese swords symbolising celestial power and guidance. ↩

16. 白龙吟风 – Báilóng yín fēng. Literally white dragon singing in wind. ↩