by Tangstory
“No need.” Shen Liangsheng summarily crushed the idea. Seeing the man standing thirty yards away like a bunny hiding from a hawk, he reached out a hand and commanded gruffly, “Come here.”
No way in hell! Ch’in Ching swore silently. It was just one kiss – and it was debatable whether that even counted as a kiss – must he torment him like this?!
Shen-hufa watched the doctor go through several different expressions while refusing to move. He pushed off into the air with his toes and closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Before Ch’in Ching could even process the situation, he and his belongings had already been lifted up into Shen Liangsheng’s arms.
A rare blush appeared on the doctor’s cheeks. His mouth opened, but the word of thanks did not come out. Unlike his own pathetic performance carrying the man several months ago, Shen Liangsheng had him in a very firm hold. Closing his eyes, Ch’in Ching tucked his luggage close and nestled into the man’s chest, feeling as light and graceful as a feather soaring through clouds and riding the fog. The wind was whistling in his ears, and amidst that sound was the man’s steady heartbeat – badoom badoom – as rhythmic as a water clock, quietly witnessing the passage of time with every drip, unaffected by the outer world.
Although Mount Fut’u was the headquarters of the Hsing Sect, it was not remote by any means. Without breaks or sleep, Shen Liangsheng arrived at the foot of the mountain in a mere two days.
As a common mortal, Ch’in Ching had to eat, sleep and answer the call of nature. Shen-hufa never once chatted with him, only silently pushing onward. Ch’in Ching did not want to make himself unwelcome, so he resorted to napping when he became bored. He likely was asleep for longer than he was awake during the trip, but every time he roused from his slumber in Shen Liangsheng’s arms, the man’s clear-cut jaw line and steely cold eyes would remind him that perhaps this man was not a real man. Maybe he actually was the soul of a knife, the spirit of a sword, the ghost of Asura.
Arriving at the foot of Mount Fut’u, Ch’in Ching steadied himself on solid ground and looked up. A sky-scraping mountain with an extremely steep incline, it indeed was a location that was easy to defend but difficult to invade.
The Hsing Sect controlled the land for one hundred li[7] around the mountain, and members had received news that their hufa was bringing home an outsider – and in his arms, no less. Now that was a truly spectacular sight!
It was the first time that Ch’in Ching had been this close to the place the chianghu often compared to the Realm of Yama,[8] and before he could process everything, a fairy-like figure descended before him in a billow of green robes. It was a fair, young woman who flashed a smile before even speaking.
“Miao-t’angchu,”[9] Shen Liangsheng spoke first with furrowed brows. “You’re on duty today?”
“No. I’m here for the spectacle.” The woman’s words were blunt. Without ruining the mood, Ch’in Ching chuckled and joined the conversation. “And I’m of course the performer, surname Ch’in, given name Ching, courtesy name Hengsu. May I have the honour of learning your name, my lady?”
“Aha…” The woman cracked an understanding grin. “I am Miao Jan. So you’re the one.”
“Me?”
“The one who saved him, of course.” Miss Miao pointed at Shen Liangsheng and continued her candid speech. “Our hufa is a very proper man, Ch’in-taifu. Do not love him and leave him, or else you will have to answer to my blade.”
“I…” Even a thick-skinned fellow like Ch’in Ching was temporarily speechless. Instead it was Shen Liangsheng who recovered his dead, emotionless mask and requested with propriety, “I beseech Miao-t’angchu to keep watch on him while I go directly and report to the deputy leader.”
“The deputy leader is in the Kriyā chamber dealing with administration. May your feet be swift, for I cannot guarantee his safety for long.”
“Thank you.” Shen Liangsheng gave a slight nod. Before leaving, he shot another glance at Miao Jan, and if Ch’in Ching read it correctly, there was a hint of warning within.
“Huh, he sure holds you close.” After watching Shen Liangsheng go, Miao Jan turned back to Ch’in Ching and studied him from head to toe.
“I think Shen-hufa fears that I might violate your respectable sect’s taboos if I were allowed to roam freely.”
“So you really do not know who I am?” Miao Jan queried wonderingly. “Perhaps you truly are a doctor on the outskirts of the chianghu.”
“Actually quite the opposite. To be frank with you, my lady, I have indeed heard of you.”
“Oh, then you are quite a brave soul.” Miao Jan had a fair complexion and a slender, elegant figure. She circled around Ch’in Ching, and when she stood before him once more, her face had not changed, but there was a new aura about her that made it hard to look away. “Or are you saying you only have eyes for him?”
“Nay. The hufa and I…” Ch’in Ching thought wryly that she could probably build a ladder that stretched from the peak to the foot of this mountain using the bones of all the men who had fallen under her charm. Why was she so desperate to add him to the pile? But he continued, “…have nothing between us. I do not wish for any misunderstanding.”
“Pfft, nothing between you?” The truth was that Miao Jan was not going to do anything to him. She ended the seduction spell and giggled, “I was only joking, but now that you have mentioned it, it seems all the more suspicious.”
“So it does, my lady.” Ch’in Ching breathed a sigh of relief and returned a quip. “You ask that I not love him and leave him, but surely you know what he is like. He doesn’t appear to be interested in love, with or without the leaving part.”
“Would you like to learn a few techniques?”
“I appreciate the offer.”
“Hmph.” Miao Jan suddenly closed the distance and whispered in his ear. “Ch’in-taifu, if you feel something for him, then act upon it. He might not look it…” Her voice dropped lower and became faint wisps of air. “Have you heard of our sect’s shuang-hsiu mantra?[10] He might not look it, but if you get your hands on him, I guarantee pleasure between the sheets beyond your wildest dreams.”
The headquarters of the Hsing Sect was not built on the peak, and Shen Liangsheng travelled as fast as he did two days ago showing no signs of fatigue. He had already returned while the two were still conversing, and he saw them whispering in each other’s ears. Miao Jan had a relaxed expression while Ch’in Ching seemed flustered with a slight frown.
“Ch’in Ching, let us ascend.”
Shen Liangsheng glanced at him without saying any more. Only when they were climbing did he speak, “Keep your distance from her if you want to live.”
“Shen-hufa, could it be that you are concerned about me?” Ch’in Ching was panting roughly from the climb but still quipped, “Or could it be…” He took two quicker steps to catch up to Shen Liangsheng. “That you are jealous?”
“…”
As expected, Shen Liangsheng ignored him. Giving up the joke, he confessed, “We didn’t do anything. She just told me that you were good in bed.”
“…”
“So it’s true?”
“…”
“Now, it’s not like you haven’t done it before. Once more wouldn’t make a difference, so why not just grant me my wish?”
“…”
“Or maybe you can’t get hard with men?”
“…”
“Well, it’s fine if the bottom one cannot get hard.”
“…”
“I might not be married, but I’ve had my fair share of experience. I might not be as skilled as you, but I will not disappoint. I’ll include a trial period and full refund. How about it?”
“…”
“Say–”
“We have arrived.”
Shen Liangsheng paid no attention to all the brash chatter. He stopped and made a sign with his right hand, tapping it in the air. Immediately the scenery shifted. A dozen yards away stood a ga
rgantuan building that struck fear into those who laid eyes upon it, every block and tile seemingly made entirely from shiny, black iron.
Ch’in Ching stood with his hands behind him, squinting at the giant doors swinging open like the jaws of a beast about to consume its prey. Above the doors was a black placard like any other sect. He wondered if the red calligraphy was the work of the founder of the Hsing Sect, the man who had torn the chianghu into shreds two hundred years ago.
The giant red “Hsing” appeared to have been written with blood, and that blood had not yet dried after the centuries and threatened to drip down from the final stroke of the blade.[11]
Murder, slaughter, invasion, aggression – they seemed to leap out from the placard, heading straight for him.
* * * * *
[1] 懷夢草, literally ‘hold dream grass,’ is a mythical plant.
[2] This phrase could also read as “He should have no resentment.”
[3] 漢武洞冥記, a work compiled in the Eastern Han Dynasty (25 – 220) has been translated as “Account of Emperor Wu of Han’s delving into arcane” in Ancient and Early Medieval Chinese Literature edited by David R. Knechtges and Taiping Chang.
[4] 浮屠山 (fu tu shan), literally ‘float slaughter mountain,’ is an imaginary mountain first depicted in The Journey to the West as the place of residence of a zen master. ‘Fu tu’ is one of the many transliterations of ‘buddha.’
[5] Equivalent to 14.4 minutes.
[6] The traditional hand gesture that encompasses many functions such as greeting and request, it is performed with a bow and hands held in front of chest. The left hand is wrapped around the right fist.
[7] Approximately 500m, but it varied depending on the dynasty.
[8] The Buddhist god of hell in East Asian mythology that was based on the Hindu Yama.
[9] 堂主, literally ‘head of the hall,’ referring to the head of a branch (tang) of the sect.
[10] This term comes from the Buddhist term, karmamudra, a technique of sexual practice with a man and woman. In the wuxia world, this has become a method through which lovers can advance their neikung together.
[11] The character 刑 (hsing; lit. punishment, execution) is made up of two radicals, 开 and刂, the second of which is called the “standing knife radical.” Because Chinese stroke order is from left to right and top to bottom, the final stroke ends on the blade of the “knife.”
Chapter VI
They had arrived at the sect early, for the huai-meng ts’ao appeared only at the Hour of the Rat.[1] They had to wait another twelve hours or so.
Naturally, Shen Liangsheng would not allow Ch’in Ching to roam freely in the sect, so he led him straight to his own quarters. He signalled with his arm, “Take a seat.”
So Ch’in Ching sat down.
“Have some tea.”
So Ch’in Ching drank tea.
A servant delivered their meal, and Shen Liangsheng invited again, “If you would excuse the bland meal…”
So Ch’in Ching ate.
These three utterances were all the communication they had until it came time to pick the plant.
It was not that Shen-hufa was a poor host – although he had been on the road for days, he did not rest but instead sat accompanying Ch’in Ching.
Ch’in Ching would stare at the tea cup but sometimes at the other man. When Shen Liangsheng noticed the gaze, he would look back at the doctor. After the silent eye contact, however, the one to look away in the end would always be Ch’in Ching himself.
As expected, night time on Mount Fut’u was particularly eerie. The sorrowful hoots of the owls resonated near and far, sounding like the moans of wicked ghouls. Dressed in white, Shen Liangsheng led the way to the plants, and Ch’in Ching trailed behind the hufa, watching him tread onward without making the slightest noise.
“Yes?” Shen Liangsheng sensed the man behind darting forward and soon felt a hand around his own. Pausing for a split second, he glanced out of the corner of his eye.
“Nothing. Just wanted to see if you were man or ghost.”
“So you are afraid of ghosts, Ch’in-taifu.”
“No, why would I be? All ghosts were once man.”
“Is that so?” Shen Liangsheng displayed no trace of mockery on his face but lifted his left hand as he spoke – Ch’in Ching’s hand still firmly attached to it.
“Well, hiking at night can be a bit dangerous, can’t it?” Ch’in Ching laughed nervously.
The mountain path was indeed steep and irregular, but it was not especially hazardous to trek. With a torch in one hand and the man’s hand in the other, Ch’in Ching could still let his mind wander off while he paid attention to the stone steps beneath.
Shen Liangsheng did not hold Ch’in Ching’s hand or pull away either, simply letting the doctor do as he pleased.
“Shen Liangsheng.”
After a while, Ch’in Ching called his name out of nowhere.
“What?”
“It seems I have been like this ever since I met you.”
“Like what?”
“Holding a torch against the wind.”
“How so?”
“The flame burns my hand, yet I cannot let go.”
“Letting go of all mortal desires proves a difficult task.”[2]
“It’s ironic to hear you, the hufa of the Hsing Sect, invoke the words of Buddha.”
“The truth requires no justification.”
“That is reasonable, indeed. But what if…”
Ch’in Ching fell silent abruptly and did not continue. Shen Liangsheng did not demand closure either, but after a few steps, he felt the man letting go of his hand. All that was left in the darkness was a flickering flame that illuminated only a tiny space ahead.
It was nearing the Hour of the Rat when they arrived at the peak. No longer wavering, Ch’in Ching focused on catching any signs of the rare plant.
However, when the Hour of the Rat came, the black mountainside was instantly alight with thousands of fire-red plants, almost recreating the banks of the Yellow Spring[3] over which the Bridge of Helplessness[4] arched.
“Pfft.” Ch’in Ching immediately began working, placing a stalk into a box that had been coated with some kind of herbal powder, but he still joked in meantime. “No wonder you agreed so readily. I’d thought that there would be only a handful of them, but from what I see, your entire sect could very well survive off of huai-meng stir fry for three whole days.”
Unsurprisingly, Shen Liangsheng ignored his quips, only saying that he would escort him down the mountain now that the business was finished.
“Do you know of the story of the huai-meng ts’ao?” Ch’in Ching started casually, swinging his sack over his shoulder. “Legend has it that holding its leaf enables one to test the auspiciousness of dreams. That is the first. Another source says that holding it enables one to dream of what is on one’s mind. Maybe you should pick one and try it for yourself, Shen-hufa.”
Not wanting to waste time chattering, Shen Liangsheng turned and began the descent, leaving behind only a curt reply.
“I have naught on my mind.”
Ch’in Ching made his way back to his hut at a leisurely pace, and by then the chill had set in. Before he could enjoy some peace and quiet, however, trouble came looking for him.
It must be noted that even the walls have ears. Ch’in Ching was the first man in recent decades to come down from Mount Fut’u alive and well. Although it was not an important event, some chianghu people caught wind of the news and were curious as to whom this famous nobody was.
In actuality, the event that was important occurred on first day of the ninth month, coincidentally the day of shuangchiang.[5] The entire Yichian Sect was killed over night, and the sect leader appeared to have undergone severe torture and interrogation before death. His extremely disfigured corpse was a sight which few could bear to witness. None but the Hsing Sect was capable of such cruel ways.
The strange thing was that
, although Yichian was generally recognized as a major sect, it was hardly comparable to the truly powerful sects like Shaolin and Wutang, and nobody had ever heard of any grudges between Yichian and the Hsing Sect. The eradication simply seemed made no sense.
Ch’in Ching had heard of this matter on his way home and was fully aware of the cause. All he could do was silently exclaim, “Yüannieh!”[6] He wrote to his shifu, but the reply he received was only three words long, “Trouble not. Wait.”
But after all the waiting, it was none other than the victim who came to Ch’in Ching’s doorstep.
That day, Ch’in Ching was practising calligraphy by the window when he felt his circles being breached, so he put his brush down and left the valley to inspect. What he saw in the enchanted maze was a young swordsman darting about like a blind bat. He was dressed in white mourning clothes, and his eyes were raw.
Sighing quietly, Ch’in Ching disabled the circle since he had a fairly good guess about the identity of the intruder. There were rumours throughout the chianghu that on the day of the massacre, the youngest son of the Yichian Sect leader was staying as a guest at Mount K’ongt’ong[7] and luckily avoided the misfortune. This man must be he.
The young mourner fell to his knees as soon as he spotted Ch’in Ching.
“I am not worthy!”[8] Ch’in Ching quickly pulled the man to his feet. After a short conversation, his prediction proved true; this man was indeed the sole survivor, the young master of Yichian Sect.
The visitor did not waste effort on politesse and expressed his intentions honestly. He, too, had heard about a certain someone ascending Mount Fut’u. After asking around, he found Ch’in Ching’s location and came to request the way to enter the mountain.
Ch’in Ching was honest as well and explained his connection with the mountain. He then asked in a soft voice, “Young master, now that you know I saved the hufa of the demonic sect, do you think I still count a good man?”
The youth stared at the doctor with his bloodshot eyes before taking one step back and kneeling down once more.
“If I were to tell you the way into the mountain, the Hsing Sect would not let me off easily.” Ch’in Ching tried to help the man up, but the man was intent on staying on his knees. “And since I’m not a good man, why would I risk my own life to help you?”