EARTHLY DRAGON, SOARING PALM

by Derek Dorris

  Amidst snickering and derision from the village kids and something slightly different in tone from his fellow disciples, he slowly got up. He left without saying a word. He kept walking.

  Bai Feng was a handsome looking boy of eleven with bright eyes and a brighter mind. Tall for his age and possessing a head of hair as unruly as his personality, he was easy to spot among the prim disciples of his sect. He had lived at the monastery since his parents disappeared eight years earlier but had never felt settled there. The monks were able in their teachings but nothing more and he was too free-spirited to gain anything close to their affection. His friends at the monastery had always been better suited to the oblate lifestyle of the monks. The village children, unruly and coarse, were something of a better fit for Bai Feng but his tendency towards introspection seemed to outrule them as a lasting match. He rubbed his body as he walked, the damage left by their fists and feet only confirmed such incompatibility.

  The distant mountain range didn't beckon to him so much as it had always just been there—conspicuously so—a straight journey to somewhere else. He had spent most of his life sheltered between the south east coast and Baiyun Mountain. His early years were as the young master of a moderately wealthy local family. His father, Bai Shen, was a respected government official who had been posted in periphery of the Liu Dynasty's southeast borders. During the political and military upheaval of the last decade, his father was forced to flee for his life along with his mother. Not wanting to risk their son's health on their long journey, they left him in the care of his Bai Shen’s cousin, a respected monk at a nearby Buddhist temple. Bai Feng was brought up unknowing of the particulars of his parents’ absence. He hadn't much memory of them anyway. Nonetheless he had always expected to see them again.

  The temple's Lowly Sea Sect had been established by seafaring holy men nearly two centuries earlier. But cut off as it was from the main pulse of the southern continent’s teachings which were spreading eastwards from the west of the Liu Empire, it had evolved its own ascetic rites which were unusual for the time. There Bai Feng was educated in the strictly non-martial tradition of the temple. Though violence was taboo, the young disciples did as boys do and roughhoused whenever they could get away with it and Bai Feng favoured that kind of pastime more than any of them. He became the unofficial leader of his peers, and in the context of a monastery where violence was frowned upon, he had felt like a bull.

  That was until two days ago when a scuffle between a fellow disciple and a village ruffian changed everything. Looking to Bai Feng for protection, his friends' unwillingness to act ensured he stepped forward. The village kids knew exactly who Bai Feng was and the truth of his parents’ cowardly flight was revealed to him—and to his friends—for the first time. Without thinking, he turned and ran straight back to his father's cousin to confirm what he couldn't believe to be true. That, outside of the monastery’s walls, his family's name was in disgrace.

  Of course, Bai Feng didn't realise he was defeated at that very moment so he insisted on proving truth to be false and went through the formalities of fighting the kid who exposed him to it. Thus, shame was piled on top of shame. Shame as determined by the martial code.

  He fought in the same stupor, in which he was now walking—a stupor that hung over his head like a dark cloud. Without knowing how many hours he had been walking for, he came finally to a stream. He knelt down and soaked his sore feet in the cool mountain water. Remembering the disgrace of the last couple of days, he began to sob uncontrollably. He felt betrayed by his father and blamed the man for the boy’s failures.

  However, Bai Feng was unlike other children in that his mind continued to reformulate concepts, attitudes, and memories until there was clarity. After an evening of crying, the sense of betrayal he had been so sharply feeling morphed into something else—a kind of apathy. With no reputation left to protect or uphold, the young Bai Feng felt a freedom he had never experienced. Moreover, he realised that he had taken a big step in his life—yet with none of the fear that would normally accompany such a bold move. That was left somewhere back there with the family name he was supposed to cherish. Instead, a pleasant optimism rolled in and if he was twenty years older, he would've realised he was relishing it. With an invigorated jump, he climbed the nearest tree and began to build a shelter. He enjoyed heights and knew how to construct things. Before long he was shielded from the cooling evening breeze and anything the heavens might throw down on him during the night. As he looked across at the dimming mountain side, his excitement yielded to a pleasant sense of drowsiness and eventually, he slept.

  * * *

  A few hours later, he was being lured from that sleep as the heat from a small fire at the bottom of his tree irritated his skin. Attempting to stretch his half sleeping face from under the blanket of hot air, he eventually woke at his inability to do so. The cracklings from below announced a visitor but Bai Feng was wily enough to remain still, confident in the camouflage of his most recent construction project. That and the thick summer foliage between him and the ground provided no reason to panic. Caution was sufficient.

  A spot of close listening revealed no immediate danger, only the sounds of enthusiastic eating. The small gaps in the leaves and branches funnelled the heat and smoke so Bai Feng could see little without shifting his position and giving his presence away. What he could see was an old man in a worn black travelling cloak sitting comfortably close to the fire, almost entranced by it as if some distant part of his memory was being re-lived within its flames. His back was turned to Bai Feng but, from what little the boy could see of his profile, he looked ancient. Though he was roasting something, Bai Feng wasn't looking at the food but rather at what he was using to hold the food. It looked like his fingers! How is he doing that?

  He passed the next while wincing downwards in unmoving silence and, as the fire petered, the man's image became clearer. His clothes may have been frayed but this was no beggar. His shoulders seemed far broader than his age should allow and he sat with an iron like composure. The more he stared, the more Bai Feng felt a strange force emanating towards his treetop perch—the kind of force he wouldn't be able to explain for a long time. Noticing the inner swell of an impulse to flee, he stiffened his hold on his position and slowed his breathing.

  The old man ate all but two of whatever he was roasting and—in one almost imperceptible movement of his right sleeve—he swept two branches that had been lying loosely on the ground into the air. With a flick of his thumbs, the morsels of food flew at the branches which then flipped quickly and fell vertically into his strong-looking hands. A roasted treat sat on the middle of each branch, skewered perfectly. An amused and far from unkind voice then emerged as if from the pit of this person’s stomach, "Little boys need to eat." With that said he gently placed the skewers betwixt some fireside rocks so the food was kept elevated from the ground but warmed by the ambers. Lastly, he reached into his cloak, removed a large brown flask, and drank deeply from it. Then, after returning the flask to whatever pouch it came from, the old man suddenly disappeared in a black blur.

  Bai Feng sat motionless for some time but those parting words and the food's aroma both acted as a clear invitation to come down and eat. Sliding down the tree, he approached the fire and probed the food. They looked like the breasts and legs of a small bird but none he recognised. Having not eaten since the previous day, Bai Feng sampled them first and, finding them not at all unpleasant, proceeded to devour what was left.

  Not long into his meal, the sound of rustling suggested the old man was returning and while apprehensive, the young boy was curious to meet his strange benefactor. However, he soon realised the footsteps belonged to more than one person—travellers attracted to the light of the dwindling fire.

  Two young men emerged from the trees, dressed in provincial travelling clothes and unperturbed by the sudden sight of a child alone in the night forest. "It's just a kid," the taller one said. He was a fine looking man with an air o
f intelligence about him.

  "He can cook though," responded the shorter but more rotund of the two. With a thin moustache and large head, Bai Feng thought he looked a little comical. "That smells wonderful. Hey kid, how about you throw a few more of whatever that is on the fire?"

  "Can't," replied Bai Feng impassively, still thinking of the powerful looking old man. "I didn't catch these in the first place nor did I cook them in the second. And what was left is right now on the way to my belly."

  "Cheeky punk!” scathed the shorter man. "Come here so your old man can teach you some manners."

  With barely any forewarning, the short man took a diagonal step towards Bai Feng and floored him with the back of his right hand.

  "That's enough Brother Chen," said the taller man.

  Still smarting from the previous day's beating, Bai Feng could hardly believe he was once again being humiliated albeit by someone far stronger. Only contrary to the fear which immobilised him then, Bai Feng was now overcome with a boldness that seemed the polar opposite of what he felt when facing down the village boy. He leapt to his feet and ran shoulder first into Chen’s midriff with the full intention of knocking him over only, before he knew what was happening, Chen had sank back over his rear knee leaving his other leg extended in front of the incoming Bai Feng. Needing only his plucky assailant's momentum to send him flying, Chen simply bounced back up onto his two feet standing in the same place where Bai Feng had aimed a second earlier.

  Bai Feng lay headfirst in the undergrowth and merely rolled onto his side to examine the fresh grazes on his leg. His father had never given him any instructions in kung fu and—thanks to the monks' aversion to any form of violence—he didn't even know the basics. With nothing but the balance that came naturally to him, he was easy prey to experienced fighters.

  "Brother Chen, get that fire going again would you?"

  "What'd you think I'm doing?"

  Bai Feng sat up and observed the two men more closely. Though no older than twenty years of age, they possessed a strength that made him shiver. The taller man's eyes moved like an eagle's from the fire to the trees behind before finally landing on Bai Feng. He smiled and unsheathed a magnificently silver sabre which he held glinting against the fire.

  "Come over here kid,” he said kindly. “Would you like me to show you what you did wrong there?"

  Bai Feng felt no remaining animosity and sat closer. "Not really. I'm not a fighter, and I never will be. That silly attack of mine… well I did it without thinking. Next time I'll simply bite my tongue. When I'm older, I'll learn to close my ears to insults and later on I'll even close my heart to them. But I guess I'll have to train my mind to do this. Not my body."

  The two men looked at each other and roared laughing. "Good kid. You talk like an old monk but you're straightforward," said the taller man. "I'm sorry my martial brother Wu Chen hit you, I guess we've been too tense on this long journey. My name is Li Jing. May I inquire what your honoured name is and where are you travelling to?"

  After blanching at the word “honoured”, Bai Feng took some time to consider the situation. These scoundrels don’t seem the sort to bother themselves with a runaway kid, he thought. Nor are they likely to have heard of my family's shame. As such, he replied plainly, "My name is Bai Feng. I don't know yet, somewhere over these mountains. I've never been away from Baiyun and there's nothing for me here anymore."

  Li Jing sat down against a tree and smiled at Bai Feng’s plucky demeanour. Just then Wu Chen interrupted with a loud drawn out snore. "Ha-ha, Brother Chen can fall asleep between blinks." Li Jing continued to laugh as he stretched out his legs. "Since you're not travelling anywhere in particular, you can tag along with us. We could use a helper and in return, we'll see about teaching you a few helpful moves. So that in the future, you won't fall so easily to a couple of ruffians like us. Ha-ha-ha..."

  Only earlier, Bai Feng had found contentment in the realisation that martial prestige meant nothing in the grand scheme of things yet apparently, he had already forgotten that when, out of silly embarrassment, he retaliated against Wu Chen's slap. A moment ago, he hesitated to reveal his family name and now he was being tempted by the promise of some genuine martial training. He scolded himself inwardly. If I abandon the enlightenment which I attained through heartfelt consideration, wouldn't I be right back where I began—chasing a warrior's tale and face-to-face with my family's shame?

  With that realisation, he steeled himself. "I told you, I don't want to learn how to fight. But if you need a helper, I can certainly perform that service in return for some meals. At least until the heavens lead us down separate paths."

  Li Jing laughed aloud once more before settling down for some rest. "Bright kid,” he mumbled to himself, “Talks like an enlightened Buddha, he-he..." He drifted off.

  Travelling Companions

  The next morning the two martial brothers resumed their journey with the young Bai Feng in tow. The runaway wasn't really interested in where the two men were going or what they were doing but he enjoyed their company. As such, over the following weeks, he happily did the cooking while they travelled together. Though he steadfastly refused to learn how to fight, he casually watched the brothers as they trained, taking in the elegance of their refined skills in the type of non-analytical fashion one might admire a fox chase down a hare. Being a kid with an abundance of energy he even volunteered his services as sparring partner. However, he steadfastly refused to deliver any attacks or defend in an orthodox style because, as he put it: "I might accidentally learn how to fight". At first, the apprentice brothers found this audacious yet confusing offer amusing and simply indulged his desire to take part in their sparring. But so relentless was he in his enthusiasm to test their skills with whatever movement randomly came to mind, they found him a surprising benefit to their training.

  For Bai Feng's part, he enjoyed the free-form rough and tumble of his approach for it reminded him of how he used to play with his friends at the monastery. He also respected the manoeuvres the brothers would improvise to thwart his unorthodox brand of evasion. At first, the two young men pulled their punches for fear of hurting their funny little companion but Bai Feng showed an uncanny ability to adapt to their moves and the more they practiced with him, the more he slipped, turned, skimmed, and squirmed from under their attacks. Concerned at their inability to overcome this plucky child, they stiffened their attacks and in desperation they began adding more and more strength. Bai Feng didn't complain once even though he was now frequently encountering the types of blows that had shaken him so emotionally only a few weeks earlier. On the contrary, he was relishing their inability to affect him on an emotional level. With no worries about losing or being shamed, his mind felt completely clear, the fluidity of his evasions increased, and he loved the feeling. He couldn't get enough. The apprentice brothers quickly grew fond of this gutsy but eccentric little boy.

  “I don't understand you at all Feng'er,” Wu Chen was saying after one of their many practice sessions. “You really don't want to learn to fight but you clearly love it. What's going on in that little head of yours?”

  “But we're not really fighting when we practice. We're just having fun.”

  “Hitting is fighting Feng'er. There's no two ways about it.”

  Unperturbed by the point, the boy just continued to languidly jump and tumble on his own, disappointed as ever their practice was over.

  “I'm not so sure,” Li Jing interrupted. “I think our young friend is on the verge of an interesting idea. Fighting is an artform after all; yet it's most often seen as a means to an end—what if one approached it simply as an artform?”

  “That sounds like a load of double talk to me. Fighting is about hitting people—and winning.” Wu Chen scratched his head as he walked away.

  Nevertheless, Bai Feng was intrigued by Li Jing’s words, albeit in the limited manner his child's mind would allow.

  Li Jing was looking at him as his young mind turned over. �
��What is it really?”

  “Huh?”

  “Why do you claim to hate fighting? You clearly don't.”

  “I do so!”

  “It's okay to like fighting, you're a boy. All boys love to fight. Was it that monastery you grew up in? You said they were devout pacifists.” Li Jing knew this wasn't the reason but he wished to see the boy's reaction nonetheless.

  “Oh, I guess so. I'm kind of bored Brother Jing. Can we go fishing?”

  “Of course, Feng'er; let’s do that now,” Li Jing said, smiling at the deception.

  * * *

  The three continued on their journey. Li Jing and Wu Chen seemed to get on each other's nerves as a matter of habit but they cared deeply for each other, that much was clear. As the days passed, they and their willing helper emerged from the southeast mountains and valleys and descended into the bustling town of Tang’she. Having not eaten proper food in weeks, Li Jing and Wu Chen wasted little time in stopping at a restaurant. All the while, Bai Feng took in the energy of the town. Heavy with the heat of summer, it offered a vastly different experience to the breezy mountains and Bai Feng felt a sense of awe that advertised his provincial background.

  "Is it always this full of people?" he asked wide-eyed.

  Wu Chen quaffed a large bowl of wine with relish. "We've never been here before so how should we know?"

  But Li Jing was frowning. "This would seem busy for any town. I wonder—" His words trailed as he seemed to consider something. "Brother Chen, what exactly did your cousin tell you about the Earthly Dragon?"