Tiger

by Jeff Stone

  “I don't believe it,” said Ying, looking away.

  “Believe it or don't, that is your choice. I will tell you about it, if you would like to listen.”

  “I don't care about your experiences!” Ying said. “And I no longer feel like talking!”

  Tonglong responded respectfully, “Sir, I did not come over here expecting a conversation. I came over only to say hello. But since we're talking, I would greatly appreciate it if you would answer one or two more questions. For the men—I will pass the information along.”

  Ying nodded once.

  Tonglong tapped his chin. “I know that the large young monk called Fu escaped with his life, and now you've mentioned one called Hok. That is two. What are the names of the three?”

  “Malao, Seh, and Long.”

  “Monkey, Snake, Dragon?” Tonglong said. “Are all Cangzhen monks named after animals?”

  “No,” Ying said. “Just those five are, plus myself. There was a seventh, but he is no more.”

  Tonglong's head tilted to one side. “What was his name?”

  Ying paused, closing his eyes. “His name was Luk.”

  “Deer?” Tonglong asked, surprised.

  “Yes!” Ying said, opening his eyes. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “I am sorry, sir,” Tonglong said in a sincere tone. “Please do not be offended by this, but I can't imagine a deer being a very dangerous fighter. They're so … timid.”

  “You would not question the style if you'd ever seen Luk in action!” Ying sneered. “He was unbeatable with antler knives in his hands.”

  “Again, I am sorry, sir.” Tonglong paused, staring into the fire. “Your voice is filled with sadness and anger. Why?”

  “Luk was my best friend,” Ying replied.

  “How did he die?” Tonglong asked, looking up. “Was it some kind of accident?”

  “It was no accident!” Ying shouted, suddenly bursting with energy. His eyes glowered at Tonglong from the opposite side of the fire. “It was all Grandmaster's fault! Grandmaster took a group of us on a mission for the new Emperor. We killed hundreds. The Emperor wanted to reward us handsomely, but Grandmaster refused to accept anything for our efforts. The Emperor noticed my frustration and offered me a special reward if I would do him a favor. The favor required two people, so Luk came with me. Things went wrong, and Luk died.”

  “Pardon me for asking, Major Ying, but how does that make the Grandmaster responsible?”

  “If Grandmaster had accepted the reward and distributed it to each of us as the Emperor had offered, I would never have accepted the Emperor's request—because there would have been no request! Then my best friend would still be alive!”

  Tonglong said nothing.

  “Another way to look at it is this,” Ying snarled. “If Grandmaster hadn't gone to the Emperor's aid in the first place, Luk would still be alive. Or if Grandmaster hadn't chosen me and Luk to go along, Luk would still be alive. Do you see my point?”

  Tonglong closed his eyes.

  “Look at me when I'm talking to you!” Ying shouted, baring his razor-sharp teeth. “How dare you respond this way? Do you have feelings for Grandmaster?”

  “No!” Tonglong said. His head twitched slightly.

  “What was that?” Ying said.

  “What was what?”

  “That twitch—” Ying said, leaning forward and staring over the flames. “Your head, it—”

  “I have no idea what you're talking about!”

  “Don't raise your voice to me!” Ying shouted. He leaped over the fire, his arms spread wide. He landed in front of Tonglong. “You know what? Now that I think about it, I didn't see you slay a single monk in our attack on Cangzhen. Do you have some kind of tie to Cangzhen? To Grandmaster? What are you up to, Cantonese man!”

  “Don't be ridiculous,” Tonglong said, turning away. “During the attack, I stayed back in order to watch our men in action. As your number one soldier, that is part of my job.”

  “I'm not sure I believe you,” Ying said. “Remind me why it is that I selected you as my number one.”

  “You chose me for my loyalty,” Tonglong said, turning back to face Ying. “And for my fighting skills.”

  “I chose you for your fighting skills,” Ying replied. “I know nothing of your loyalties. I am beginning to get suspicious of you.”

  “Suspicious? Whatever for? Did I not prove my loyalty by handing over my family sword when you asked for it earlier?”

  “You did, but you hesitated. Also, you returned far too quickly from your delivery assignment to the Emperor.”

  “Sir,” Tonglong said, standing straight. “What can I do to prove myself to you?”

  “Catch me a crane.”

  “Done.”

  Fu woke to the warm sun on his face and the smell of freshly baked buns wafting through the air. He felt refreshed and extraordinarily pleasant as he thought about the wonderful breakfast he would soon have. Freshly baked buns weren't often served at Cangzhen, and he couldn't wait to dig in. As he listened to his brothers' anxious voices in the distance, he realized something. Those weren't his brothers' voices.

  Fu opened his eyes and saw bamboo bars all around him. He sat up and remembered where he was. Then he remembered what he had come to the village to do. Fu paid close attention to the two voices moving quickly along the far side of the tall hedge bordering the village square.

  “Come on!” Ma said. “Let's GO!”

  “No, thanks,” Ho replied. “I don't feel like it.”

  “Trust me, it will make you feel ten times better.”

  “I don't think so.”

  “It will make you feel one hundred times better!”

  “I doubt it.”

  “How do you know unless you try?”

  “Just leave me alone, okay?”

  “No way. You're coming with me.”

  Fu heard scuffling. Someone grunted.

  “You're hurting me,” Ho said.

  “Quit complaining,” Ma replied. “We're almost there.”

  Fu sat up when he saw the boys approaching, the large one with the smaller one draped over his shoulder. Ma set Ho down in front of the cage and stood beside him.

  “Watch,” Ma said. He inhaled deeply through his nose, making a tremendous noise as he constricted his windpipe just the right amount. A wad of thick mucus was slowly drawn out of his nose and into the back of his throat. With his windpipe still constricted, Ma forced air out of his lungs and popped the wad out of his throat and into his mouth. Then he raised his lower lip up to contain the glob and spoke slowly as a line of saliva slipped out, running down his chin.

  “Catch this, monk,” he slurred.

  Ma closed his mouth around the lump and pursed his lips. He inhaled deeply through his nose, curled his tongue, and let it fly

  Fu didn't flinch. He watched as the glob hit one of the bamboo cage bars, sticking briefly before oozing slowly downward.

  “So close!” Ma said, wiping his mouth across his robe's gray sleeve. “I think I have enough ammo for one more shot—”

  “Excuse me,” Fu interrupted. “May I say something?”

  Ma pointed his finger at Fu and glared. “You don't have anything to say that I'm interested in hearing.”

  “With all due respect,” Fu said politely, “I don't have anything to say to you. I have something to say to Ho. It will only take a moment.”

  “I don't think—” Ma began to say.

  “Let him talk,” Ho interrupted, stepping forward. “I'd like to hear what he has to say.”

  Ma nodded his head. “Let's hear it then, monk.”

  “I am very sorry I attacked you,” Fu said, looking directly at Ho. He folded his hands in his lap. “It was wrong, and I sincerely apologize. If you wish to hit me with something, I understand completely. Only I suggest you use an item that transmits force a little better than spit. Take hold of a spear or staff, and I'll place my head between the bars. Hit me as hard as you can
.”

  “No,” Ho said, shaking his head. “I don't think so.”

  “Please,” Fu said. “Please, hit me. Treat me as I have treated you. Treat me ten times worse. It will make me feel better. I deserve it.”

  “It won't make me feel any better,” Ho replied. “I don't get pleasure from hurting people.”

  “I'll hit him!” Ma offered. “It will make me feel better!”

  “No,” said Ho. “You're not going to hit him.”

  “Come on,” Ma said. “I'll just hit him once. Right in the ear—”

  “NO!” Ho said defiantly. He stomped his foot. “No one is going to hit anyone on my account!”

  Ma took a few steps back and frowned. Fu recognized the tension in Ho's voice and spoke to him softly. Softer than he had ever spoken to anyone before.

  “Okay, Ho,” Fu said. “Nobody has to hit anybody. But I would still like to do something for you. How about if I teach you to fight?”

  “No!” Ho said, folding his arms. “I don't want to learn how to fight.”

  “But if you learn how to fight, you can defend yourself against people like me in the future,” Fu said. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

  “No.”

  “Well,” Fu said, “what do you want?”

  “Wait!” Ma interrupted. “I have an idea! Hey, monk, why don't you teach me to fight?”

  Fu looked to Ho for a reaction. Ho looked at the ground.

  “All right,” Fu said, still looking at Ho. “Since you don't want to learn how to fight, I'll teach your friend Ma. Then he can protect you.”

  “Whatever,” said Ho, turning away. He headed for the bun shop across the square.

  The sun was still low in the morning sky as Fu and Ma stared at each other through the bars of the bamboo cage. Fu sat cross-legged, his hands on his knees. Ma stood firm and straight.

  “Ma means ‘horse,'” Fu said. “Right?”

  Ma rolled up his sleeves. “Yes. So?”

  “If your mother named you appropriately, your legs should be quite strong,” Fu replied. “Is this true?”

  “Yes,” Ma said. “What are you trying to say?”

  Fu rubbed his bald head, lost in thought. He slapped his right thigh. “I will teach you the No Shadow Kick. If you practice it for ten years, it might make you famous.”

  “Ten years!” Ma exclaimed.

  “Yes, ten years,” Fu said, serious. “Maybe a little more, maybe a little less.”

  Ma's mouth dropped. “I can't wait that long to fight! Teach me something that doesn't take so long.”

  “All good things take time.”

  “Well…” Ma said, “then teach me many things so that I can practice all of them for a long time.”

  “That won't work,” Fu replied. “Besides, I have a feeling I won't be here much longer. There's only time to teach you one thing. But that's okay. We had a saying at Cangzhen—I fear the one kick you've practiced ten thousand times, not the ten thousand kicks you ve practiced only once.”

  “Come on,” Ma said. “You've got to teach me more than just one kick.”

  Fu shook his head. “I can't. Ying and his men will be here soon. But perhaps if you find some friends, I can show each of them one different thing, and later you can teach each other your one thing. Then everyone will learn quite a lot. Right?”

  “I guess you're right,” Ma said. He kicked the dirt. “But you have to teach me my thing first! Then I'll go get some of my friends.”

  “As you wish,” Fu said. “We will begin with the proper stance; it is the foundation for most things. It's called the Horse Stance because it is powerful. Just like a horse. Just like you.”

  Ma smiled.

  “Watch this,” Fu said. “Then copy me.”

  Fu stood and hunched over inside the cage. He spread his feet shoulder-width apart and squatted way down. When his thighs were parallel to the ground, he straightened his back all the way up and lifted his head so that his neck was in line with his spine. His head didn't hit the top of the cage—which was a relief—but the scratch across his backside began to burn a little. Fu had forgotten all about the scratch, as well as the gaping hole in his clothing. At least when he squatted this far down, no one could see into the hole.

  In front of the cage, Ma stood and did his best to copy Fu. Fu noticed that Ma could keep either his back straight or his thighs parallel to the ground. He couldn't do both at the same time without falling over. Ma looked frustrated.

  “Don't worry about it,” Fu said. “It will take you months to be flexible enough to do it as low as me. Just try to remember how I look, and you'll get there one day. Now, see my hands? Their position is important, too. Copy me. Make a fist with each hand by curling your fingers tightly into your palm. Next, bend your thumb and wrap it over your curled fingers just in front of the big knuckle on your pointer finger. Got it? Now, bend your right arm up ninety degrees and tilt your fist over in front of your face to protect it. Great. Next, put your left arm straight down between your legs and bend your elbow slightly. Use that fist to protect your groin. Most people fight with both hands up in front of their face—until they get kicked in the groin a few times.”

  Ma giggled. Fu did not. Ma stopped giggling.

  “From this position, you should be grounded,” Fu said. “Solid as an oak. Your feet should feel rooted to the earth. Immovable. Let all the earth's positive chi— positive energy—flow into your body through the soles of your feet, washing your body clean as it travels through your system and out your fists. You should do this at least one hour straight, every single day, for at least one year.”

  “Do what?” Ma asked. “Just stand here in this position?”

  “Yes,” Fu said. “This is your foundation. Without a solid foundation, everything will topple over—just as you did when you first tried it. Trust me. But we don't have one year to wait before I teach you more, so I'll go ahead and show you the kick. This is called the No Shadow Kick because it is so fast, it leaves no shadow. Watch.”

  Fu's body swayed slightly and his robe fluttered. Neither leg seemed to move, but Ma's unruly hair flew back as a whoosh of air rushed over his head. Ma looked around, then looked back at Fu, amazed.

  “You felt that breeze, didn't you?” Fu asked.

  “Yes, but… how did you … ?”

  “That is the No Shadow Kick. It is very powerful.”

  “It is magic,” Ma said.

  “No, it's not magic,” Fu replied. “Only hard work. Very hard work. The kick is actually very simple. I just did it really, really fast and strong. Watch again.”

  This time, Fu did it slowly. It looked so simple. With his fists locked in position, all he did was shift his weight onto his left leg and bring his right knee up high. With his right foot bent nearly ninety degrees, Fu snapped his leg forward, extending it until it was straight out in front of him, parallel to the ground. His foot was now nearly perpendicular to the ground, and his toes were flexed backward so that any impact would be made with the ball of his foot. Fu repeated the movements slowly in reverse and ended by returning his foot to its original position in the Horse Stance.

  “Do you think you've got it?” Fu asked.

  Ma nodded his head.

  “Good,” Fu said. “As you can see, it is a simple front kick. But if you do it fast enough and hard enough, it is nearly impossible to stop. If you find you have to use it anytime soon, I suggest you aim for one of your opponent's knees. If you keep the kick low, you will maintain your balance easier. Also, most people won't expect it low, which makes it very effective. Just don't forget that it is important to stay rooted when you do this or any other kick or punch because you are transmitting energy. If you were to use only the strength of your muscles against an opponent, it would certainly have an effect. But if you stay rooted and pull energy from the whole earth, it will have a much greater effect. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” Ma replied.

  Fu nodded his head. “Now, there
are two more things you must always remember. First, you should only fight as a last resort, and only when necessary. All right?”

  Ma looked sideways. “Sure.”

  “Promise me,” said Fu.

  Ma looked back at Fu. “Okay. I promise.”

  Fu took a deep breath. “The other thing is perhaps even more important. For every action, there is an equal, opposing reaction. This applies to life, as well as the fighting arts. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Ma said.

  “Are you sure?” asked Fu.

  “Of course I'm sure,” Ma replied, swinging his arms. “Now, is this lesson over? I'm getting hungry.”

  “The lesson is over whenever you say it is over,” Fu said. “I am the one stuck in the cage. You can walk away at any time. However, it was my own teachers' custom to conclude all training sessions with a question from each student. Do you have a question for me?”

  Ma scratched his head, then smiled. “Do you like pork inside your steamed breakfast buns, Teacher? Or do you prefer chicken?”

  “Major Ying!” Commander Woo shouted. “We have visitors this morning! They bring news of a captured monk!”

  Ying stopped sharpening his toenails and looked over at the Cangzhen main gate. Commander Woo and Captain Yue stood just beyond it, side by side. Not to be outdone, Captain Yue added, “The visitors are from the same village I went to, sir! I recognize one of them!”

  Ying sighed and stood up from the low bench next to the fire pit. He saw two men in gray peasant's robes come into view. Commader Woo grabbed the arm of the first man and yanked him toward the gate. Captain Yue latched onto the second man, but the man shrugged him off. Captain Yue coughed and adjusted his hat. He remained behind as Commander Woo led the two villagers through the gate.

  “What news do you bring?” Ying asked as the men approached. His tongue wriggled inside his mouth and the villagers jumped but did not answer. They both stared at Ying, wide-eyed.

  Commander Woo squeezed the first man's arm. The man yelped.

  “Answer the question,” Commander Woo said.

  “We… aaah …bring news of a captured young monk, Major Ying,” the man said, cowering. “And news of your scrolls.”