by J E Kerry
Liu Wei is in the middle of his daydream and the other students too are clearly lost in their respective hallucinations, when he feels something on his thighs. Hot tea from the kettle is being poured on each of their legs and the daydreaming quickly vanishes.
As the cups are filled, the students’ thighs slowly begin to shake, and sweat keeps running down their faces.
“I’m going to kill those two boys,” Liu Wei thinks to himself.
“You can see hot tea is not all you make it out to be, my little friends,” Wang adds. “Even hot tea can be a weapon against your opponent’s attacks. Similarly, the element of surprise can help you outmaneuver your opponent and win a fight,” he continues and puts the kettle aside.
“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as the night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt. Because strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat,” he says and goes over to his leather bag, opening it.
“Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections. It settles them into predictable patterns of response and occupies their minds while you wait for the extraordinary moment; that which they cannot anticipate,” Wang explains further while taking out a Chinese tea infuser travel mug and sitting down on one leg, balancing all his weight on it with nearly supernatural precision; continuing with the lecture as he sips his Chinese organic loose-leaf green tea.
The students’ eyes widen at this. Wang is definitely not human. At least that’s what Xiao Pang and some of the boys think. For Pang, it is his master’s ability to go for so long without food. Even now, after an interrupted breakfast, he is thinking of the chocolate bar stowed away in his pocket. Others have their own reasons. His balance, his speed, his strength. All of that pales in comparison to the ability to go days without food.
“All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near,” Wang says as a mysterious shadow hides behind the trees, observing the class from the distance.
None notice the shadow at first. Most of them are busy fighting battles in their minds, trying to numb the pain. Their master had mentioned something about being far away. Yes, far far away thinks Zhang Lei, 9, climbing through rocks and up the lofty mountains of the New Asia Plateau.
Deng Jie is more interested in sneaking up on people like his master and decapitating them in seconds. At least that’s what he saw the day he finally woke up from his fever induced sleep. He was brought in by his mother for treatment and never saw her again. He is shaken when he thinks of the bandits his master eliminated in seconds.
Whatever they think, Wang is well aware of their tactic in taking their minds off the pain. How they are all thinking about his words to suit their future hopes and dreams. He had once done that himself.
“Learn, and then know you don’t know. Teach, and then know you don’t understand”, he resumes. “The more you learn, the more you realize you don’t know. Confucius taught that teaching benefits students and teachers alike,” Wang says as the shadow inches closer to where he sits, undetected.
Ma Yun, 11, and formerly of affluent backgrounds, thinks of building several more monasteries like this. Putting children in the custody to dish out fighters who will eventually protect the Earth.
Xiao Li, still hurting, relishes the thought of one day punishing his students while giving them a lecture such as this. He can’t grow fast enough, he believes. Thinking back to the day he barged into the monastery while running away from Rebels. Master Wang’s short fight with the Rebels convinced him to stay and learn.
“Some or all of you want to become teachers one day. To properly instruct a student, one must possess a keen insight into the actual level of the student and convey knowledge in a manner that he or she can understand,” he says and looks to a young girl student Xiu Ying, with a typical Taoist bun tied up on the top of her head, proudly smiling at him. That is the only face where a smile can be seen though as the boys strain greatly with perspiration. Wang takes another sip of his tea and resumes.
“Only a cruel or incompetent teacher blames his student for the failure instead of taking responsibility.”
Xiao Li having closed his eyes from the effect of the strain, opens them to notice someone behind his Wang.
“Master, behind you!” he shouts.
Wang instinctively moves out of his stance, blocks a fist from behind and puts his opponent with 4-5 masterfully placed hits to the ground; still holding his travel mug in the other hand. The assailant lays still. A dignified silence settles over the rows of students, only to be broken by laughter from the unknown man.
“Zhao ge?” (older brother Zhao) Wang asks pleasantly surprised.
The mysterious shadow, now revealed as Wang’s childhood friend Zhao Yun, a highly talented Special Forces Junior Officer, gets up from the ground.
“Didi!” (younger brother) he says.
“Look at you! … and your new uniform,” Wang goes on excited, touching the material of Zhao’s A-nation SFB (Special Forces Base) uniform and admires the holographic logo, fluidly altering in color and design, fascinated.
“You don’t look too bad yourself Didi,” says Zhao with a smile that could win trophies.
“Wait, have you eaten yet?”
With a mischievous grin Zhao replies, “A soldier never eats before entering the road”.
They both stare at each other as if to say, “dude seriously?” and then burst into laughter.
“Come on, let’s have some breakfast! I want to know everything about your new role at the SFB. And what about that girl? Are you still dating?” Wang says as he leads Zhao inside, leaving his quivering students in the rows as they keep fighting against their shaking thighs.
Once the two are out of sight, Deng Jie collapses first with a long sigh. The other classmates wait for a while but one by one they follow his example until everyone is down; except for Xiu Ying. She continues to hold the stance with the grace and strength of a Chinese empress, emptying her two teacups before getting out of position and stepping over the panting boys on the ground to put her cups proudly back into the basket. Two rows away, the chubby Xiao Pang pulls a hidden ‘Dove’ chocolate bar out from under his robe. He unwraps the delicious candy and bites into it, closing his eyes to savor the relief.
Xiu Ying rolls her eyes at the obvious weakness of the boys.
“Seriously, I can’t believe you guys are supposed to be the future masters we are going to have.”
None of the boys have the energy to muster a retort and instead focus on getting their breath back.
“Now get up chickens, let’s go clean ourselves up,” she urges.
“We can’t, the Master has not released us yet,” Liu Wei admonishes.
“Come on, he just met his long-time childhood friend. He’s not getting back here anytime soon,” Xiu Ying rolls her eyes at the missing intelligence of her classmate.
“I think it makes sense,” Deng Jie agrees.
“You all have twenty minutes to come back to this training ground,” Xiu Ying says, surprising the boys.
“What?!” they shout in unison.
“Who made you captain of the class?” Xiao Li challenges.
“Do you seriously want to mess with me?” she asks with a hint of warning. “We can go through all the endurance courses again.”
Xiao Li contemplates for a moment and eventually gives in with a slump of his shoulders.
Wang and Zhao enter a stunning Chinese monastery garden, lush with peaches, pomegranates, apples and more. They walk over to a wooden bench under the blooming pomegranate tree.
“Have a seat and let me get us some breakfast left-overs,” he says. “The usual?”
“Yes, please,” Zhao replies with a hungry face.
Wang leaves for
the canteen while Zhao takes off his jacket to embrace the breaking summer sun. A 3D holo-selfie (holographic moving picture on a flexible, very thin translucent material) of two young Taoist students slides out of his jacket and drops onto the grass. He picks it up smiling and remembers ...
∞∞∞
* THE YEAR 2317 *
A monastery dorm room, filled with sleeping children between the ages of 4 and 10, stretches into the darkened wall behind the resting 6-year-old Xiao Wang (young Wang Long Sheng) and the 7-year-old Xiao Zhao (young Zhao Yun).
The shadow of an old Taoist monk hovers over the tip of Xiao Wang’s mattress and taps a bronze Chinese bullseye gong with a soft cloth mallet. The disturbing, yet somehow calming noise has the kids shooting out of their mattress-beds on the floor; Xiao Wang being the only one to drop right next to it instead of jumping straight up like the others.
“Xiao Wang, get up!” Xiao Zhao shouts whispering. “You embarrass us.”
An hour later, at the training ground, Xiao Wang and Xiao Zhao sit yawning in their horse stances, slowly but familiarly flowing through the motions of the ‘Five Yin Qi-Gong’, together with ten of their classmates in a disciplined, coherent fashion.
These Qi-Gong sets of coordinated breathing, movement and sound exercises enhance the health of the five yin organs of the body: lungs, kidney, heart, liver and spleen. It promotes clarity of the mind and body to help clear chronic stress from unresolved negative emotions such as grief, fear, anger or worry, all while stimulating the paths of energy that flow from the meridian channels to each organ.
While practicing this special kind of Qi-Gong meditation, Xiao Wang tries to recall what he has learned last lesson, remembering that the Five Yin Qi-Gong, also known as the ‘Qigong of the 5 Phases’ or ‘5 Elements Harmony’, is an ancient Chinese natural science that puts the Earth at the center of all things and the four remaining elements on a rectangular axis.
Vertically there is Fire at the top (big Yang energy) and Water on the bottom (big Yin energy). Horizontally are Wood to the left (small Yang energy) and Metal to the right (small Yin energy). A phase of 73 days, in the cycle of seasons is attributed to each of these four outer elements. With 18 Earth days, after each of the four phases which correspond to the periods before the usual spring and autumn equinoxes and the summer and winter solstices, the Earth provides an exact link between these elements.
He pauses for a moment as if experiencing a blackout and tries to further remember the last sentences he had to memorize in his class and then resumes in his head, “Based on their natural energy grids, every phenomenon on Earth and in this galaxy can be understood as a pattern following the universal structure of these elements, such as the phases of life, compass directions, human body parts, types of food, emotions, forms, colors and many more. In everything that exists you will find a tiny universe, ruled and balanced by the five elements.”
“Hey Xiao Wang, knock it off,” Xiao Zhao snaps.
Wang is brought back to reality, “What happened?” he asks confused.
“You zoned out again,” Xiao Zhao taps him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s join the rest of the class, now shall we?”
They quickly rush over to the courtyard where their class is integrated with the older teenage group for their warm-up training in order to loosen muscles, improve flexibility, boost their heart rates and practice basic Wushu skills.
After several desperate attempts to bring his Xuanzi (butterfly kick) to perfection, Xiao Wang is walked through it with some encouraging support from Xiao Zhao, finally able to master the operation by twisting his body while both legs remain lifted from the ground and swing around while the torso remains as horizontal as possible.
Right after their one-hour warm-up, the students move on to the prayer hall, where the monastery abbot guides them through an hour of deep meditative Taoist chanting from ancient scriptures stored on his HGP (holographic glass pad).
The chanting and music are a way to connect with the gods and achieve inner harmony while getting closer to the Tao, the path of enlightenment and highest goal of every Taoist.
Simultaneously, as the abbot uses specific hand movements and ritual objects, his students busy themselves with the Qing (metal bowl) and the Faqi (large drums, bells and wooden fish blocks called Muyu) to compliment his actions.
Xiao Zhao, behind his big drum, seems to enjoy this practice more than his best friend who every now and then dips his head and dozes off behind the large bell hanging from the ceiling.
In his daydream, Wang is taken back to the first day he came to the monastery as an orphan.
“What are you doing here little one?” a monk asks him at the gate.
Wang does not give a reply. In fact, he looks ready to bolt at the first opportunity. The monk reaches out his hand and says, “I’m Master Yuan”.
There is something about the man’s eyes that seems to inspire confidence in the young lad.
Wang’s daydream is about to end when the abbot turns back around to them and Xiao Zhao uses his large gong mallet drumstick to whoop Xiao Wang’s butt, waking him up. He reflexively opens his eyes and hits against the bell but with such intensity that the sound of it reverberates down the halls of the monastery, keeping everyone else awake, and waking those who weren’t.
At that moment, Wang’s face is a confused pile of emotions clearly irritable from the lack of sleep. He is both grateful to Xiao Zhang for saving his blushes and angry for denying him a covert sleep.
As the canteen’s clock strikes 7:45 am, a crowd of Taoist students storm through the doors; Xiao Wang and Xiao Zhao caught in the middle of it. They are tossed side to side from the many shoulders running into them and each grab a stainless steel canteen tray from a stack near the entrance door, moving quickly into the cue of starving teammates, excitedly on their tiptoes, pointing at their breakfast to the canteen cooks behind their glass panes. Xiao Zhao gets the last Jian Bing, a former traditional Chinese street food similar to crepes, but notices his friend’s sad face and has an idea.
“Please cut it in half,” Xiao Zhao says to the cook.
Wang lightens up as his friend hands him half of the Jian Bing and they move over to the tables, munching their first food of the day.
One hour later, the monastery’s Taoist abbot drones on behind them about the Neidan (內丹术) in one of the classrooms. These small rooms are capable of fitting about ten students who all sit on comfortable cushions, designed to aid in meditation on the ground. The abbot reads from his high-end HGP’s integrated digital encyclopedia, “Neidan, or internal alchemy is an array of esoteric doctrines and physical, mental, and spiritual practices that Taoist initiates use to prolong life and create an immortal spiritual body that survives after death. Neidan, also known as Jindan (golden elixir), inner alchemy, combines theories derived from external alchemy (waidan), correlative cosmology (including the Five Phases), the emblems of the Yinding and medical theory, with techniques of Daoist meditation, daoyin gymnastics, and sexual hygiene.”
“Master, what is sexual hygiene?” one of Wang’s younger classmates asks with the naivety of a three-year-old, followed by the stifled laughter of older students who can’t wait for the abbot to give an answer to this rather very embarrassing question.
“Well,” the abbot tries to collect himself for a moment, clearing his throat, “that’s a question we will get to when you have grown a beard.”
The classmate nods slightly irritated and suddenly feels not that smart for asking anymore, looking back down at his own HGP as the abbot continues reading, “In Neidan the human body becomes a cauldron (or ‘ding’) in which the Three Treasures of Jing (‘Essence’), Qi (‘Breath’) and Shen (‘Spirit’) are cultivated for the purpose of improving physical, emotional and mental health, aiming for the ultimate return to the primordial unity of the Tao, i.e., becoming an Immortal.
It is believed the Xiuzhen Tu (修真图), a Taoist diagram of the human body illustrating principles of interna
l alchemy, is exactly such a cultivation map. The Qi can be described as the ‘natural energy of the universe’. It manifests in everyone and everything. By means of internal alchemy, a Taoist must strive to obtain a positive flow of Qi through the body in paths moving to each individual organ. Healing practices such as acupuncture, massage, cupping and herbal medicines are believed to open up the Qi meridians throughout the body so that the Qi can flow freely. Keeping the Qi in balance and letting it circulate throughout the body promotes health. An imbalance, however, can lead to sickness and death,” the abbot finishes his reading and takes a sip of his green tea from the richly ornamented tea mug infuser.
“The Neidan will teach you to transform your Sanbao,” he resumes and turns to his left, “Xiao Wang, repeat for us the names of these essential energies sustaining human life.”
The shy boy straightens and tries to remember what he had just learned from the text.
“Ummm, Jing, Shen and …”
Xiao Zhao picks up on his friend’s blackout to help.
“Qi,” he says.
“Exactly. Jing, Qi and Shen. Never forget the order of these three,” the abbot reminds the class with a wink. “Now, enough with the reading. Let’s go outside for some demonstration.”
∞∞∞
The abbot strolls with his students through the long and richly ornamented monastery outdoor corridor that gives a breathtaking view at the tremendous jagged wall of mountains placed around them as he continues his lecture. The backdrop of nature’s accomplishments and structures seem to add some gravitas to his words.
“Making one’s essence complete, one can preserve the body. To do so, first keep the body at ease, and make sure there are no desires. Thereby, energy can be made complete.”
The group stop in front of an elevated Chinese spouting bowl or resonance bowl (中国喷射盆) with engraved dragons that can be seen on the bottom of the basin and spraying streams of water up the sides of it.