by Jin Yong
Guo Jing wolfed down the rest of the food and stretched out in the other bed.
“Keep me company like this forever,” Lotus said. “I’d be content even if I were sick for a hundred years.”
“If you’re sure you won’t get bored of me, I’ll stay with you for as long as you want.”
“What about your Princess Khojin?”
Caught out, it took Guo Jing a short while to come up with a reply. “I might have agreed to marry her, but, first, I’ll keep you company for a hundred years—for two hundred years. If she’s willing to wait, let her wait.” He sighed. “Lotus, I will not leave you, even in death. I’ll just have to do her wrong—”
A voice ravaged by age began to sing softly outside, interrupting Guo Jing.
“Welcomed by clean breeze,
Loved by white clouds,
Dream not of silk robes and gold belts.
One thatched hut,
Wild flowers bloom,
Care not who rises or falls, who thrives or fails,
Alone on a humble path, merry am I.
Dawn, to the verdant hills!
Dusk, to the verdant hills!”
“Wonderful,” Lotus said weakly. “I’ve heard many songs set to this ‘Goats on the Hill’ tune, but never one so well written. I wonder who came up with the lyrics—I’ll learn it for Papa.” Tapping out the rhythm, she hummed under her breath.
“You’re a connoisseur, miss.” The old man had overheard her quiet comment. “Do you know the story behind this version?”
“Can you ask him in?”
Guo Jing projected his voice. “Master, please come in.”
Old Yang entered and sat on the chair by Lotus’s bed.
“Do tell us, sir,” Lotus said.
“The song is at least three hundred years old—it is from the Tianbao era of the Tang dynasty.”
“Really?” She had not expected such a provenance.
“You have probably noticed my accent. Perhaps you have even surmised that I come from Yunnan.”
“We can tell that your enunciation is different from the locals of western Hunan. Softer, more malleable. So, this melodic tone is from Yunnan…” Lotus said, recalling the intonation of the detestable Madam Ying, which shared some similarities with that of this old man. Was she from Yunnan too?
“I was born in Dali, and that was where I grew up. I was sent here some years ago to plant trees and supervise a construction project. When that was completed, I was charged with staying on to supply the woods with essentials.”
Lotus nodded, too unwell to speak. It occurred to her that they should not reveal too much about themselves to an associate of Madam Ying—they could not be certain if that woman was friend or foe.
“I could tell from your clothes that you rode through the forest in the night. And since I’ve had no word from those parts that I should not receive you, I am happy to tell you some old tales if you’re interested. You’ve heard of the Dali Kingdom, have you not?”
Lotus nodded again, and the old man went on.
“During the Tianbao era of the Tang dynasty, Yunnan was known as the Kingdom of Nanzhao, ruled by a king called Geluofeng. He was a powerful man—the Tang Empire and the Tubo Kingdom both tried to win him to their side.
“At that time, the Xuanzong Emperor of Tang was more interested in his Noble Consort Yang than state affairs, and left the running of his country to his two Chancellors, Li Linfu and Yang Guozhong, who was the Consort’s paternal cousin. Tempers soon flared at court.
“In the tenth year of Tianbao, Yang Guozhong sent the Governor of Jiannan, Xianyu Zhongtong, on a campaign against the Kingdom of Nanzhao, with an army of eighty thousand men. They rode south, taking Jingzhou and Quzhou, but were soon pushed back north, suffering a terrible defeat in Lunan, losing three-quarters of their number.
“In the thirteenth year of Tianbao, Yang Guozhong sent General Li Mi to attack Nanzhao. He also set off from Jiannan, leading seventy thousand soldiers. King Geluofeng was a skilled tactician, drawing his attackers deep into his own territory, capturing Li Mi and destroying the whole army. Not one man returned to his homeland.
“Thanks to these two aborted conquests, more than a hundred thousand Tang soldiers—prisoners and deserters—ended up in Yunnan. My own ancestor was a minor officer of the Tang army who settled down with a local tribeswoman. But, by my father’s generation, our family fortune had dwindled. My father had no choice but to cleanse my body, and I became an eunuch in the palace of the Dali Kingdom.”
“We’ve heard that King Duan of Dali is a wise ruler. It must have been a privilege to serve him.”
“You are very knowledgeable, miss.” The old man was pleased by her reply. “My ancestors have passed down several other versions of ‘Goats on the Hill.’ I was told that the tune was very popular in the Tang capital Chang’an. Everyone used to sing it—nobles and commoners alike. The Tang army came from all over China, some from Sichuan, some from Chang’an, and the songs took root in Yunnan with the surviving soldiers who could never go home. Of course, the music was also adapted to the Yunnan way of speaking.” Realizing he might be interrupting the young woman’s rest, Old Yang bade them farewell.
“Shall we look at Madam Ying’s instruction?” Guo Jing asked when they were alone again. He took out the white pouch and unpicked the seam. It was a crudely drawn map inscribed with two short lines:
Follow the route as indicated until you reach a thatched hut next to a waterfall. Open the red pouch when you arrive at this location.
5
The next morning after breakfast, Guo Jing presented Old Yang with another silver ingot. The elderly man resisted at first, but Guo Jing persuaded him to take it as payment for a few flatbreads for the journey.
Riding together on Ulaan, Guo Jing and Lotus followed the trail marked by Madam Ying for seventy or eighty li, until the road began to narrow. In the distance, eight li or so ahead of them, the hills grew mountainous and craggy, closing in around the track so only one person could pass at a time. Guo Jing had no choice but to leave Ulaan at a nearby farmstead and continue on foot with Lotus on his back.
For two hours, he walked. At times, the pass was so narrow that he had to shift Lotus into his arms, and together they slipped through the gap sideways.
The fiery summer was still burning high in the seventh month and the sun continued to scorch everything it touched, yet it could not find its way into this gorge, so the air remained reasonably cool for the time of year.
Guo Jing soon heard his stomach rumble. Without stopping, he tore a flatbread into bite-size pieces for Lotus, before attacking the ones that remained. They disappeared in no time and he regretted his gluttony. His throat was parched; he was desperate for a drink of water. Was that the hum of a brook that he could hear? He picked up his pace.
What he had thought was a gentle trickle grew into a thunderous torrent, its roar amplified by the ravine. The path took him up to a ridge, and, across from where he was standing, a mighty white dragon swooped down from between two mountains. A magnificent waterfall.
He looked down. A small thatched hut sat close to the pool below the cataract, just as Madam Ying had described. He let Lotus rest on a rock, took out the red pouch from his inside shirt pocket and unpicked the thread. He found a short note within:
This injury can only be cured by King Duan …
He muttered the name in surprise as his eyes scanned the message.
Lotus had been drifting in and out of consciousness all morning, exhausted by the journey and numbed by pain, but the mention of King Duan seemed to revive her a little. It also brought to mind Viper Ouyang’s words on the raft when they were making their way back to the mainland from the deserted Rosy Cloud Island. The Venom had hinted that King Duan could heal Count Seven Hong’s injury. She tried to recall what her father had said about King Duan … King of the South. One of the Five Greats. Ruler of the Kingdom of Dali in Yunnan … Which is many thousands of li yonder, in the s
outhwest corner of the country, without doubt more than three days’ journey from where we are now in western Hunan. She sighed in dejection, then leaned on Guo Jing’s shoulder to read what that awful woman had written.
This injury can only be cured by King Duan. He has committed much wickedness and thus has retreated to Peach Spring to lead a life of seclusion. Hard it is for outsiders to gain an audience, and to admit to seeking treatment would cause great offense—you are likely to fall at the hands of the fisher, the logger, the farmer or the scholar before reaching his court. To gain an audience with the Southern King, claim that you have come at the bidding of your shifu Count Seven Hong with important news for his ears alone. In his presence, show him the contents of the yellow pouch. Life or death all hang upon this.
Confused by the note, Guo Jing turned to Lotus. “What does she mean? What wickedness did he commit? Why would seeking treatment cause offense? Who are the fisher and the others?”
Lotus was equally perplexed. “I’ve no idea,” she said, frowning. She hated to disappoint Guo Jing.
“Let’s go and find out,” he said, lifting her onto his back.
* * *
GUO JING found the descent quicker and easier than he had anticipated. As he picked his way down, he noticed a man perching on a rock, close to the waterfall and in the shade of a willow tree. His face was shielded by a conical bamboo hat, his body hidden under a straw cape.
When Guo Jing reached the valley floor, he was mystified to see the man fishing with a rod. Could there really be fish in the pool? he wondered. Surely they would be too busy struggling against the currents to notice the bait? He studied the man. He seemed to be in his forties, his sun-scorched face dark like a cast-iron wok. Wiry whiskers bristled from his cheeks. Whatever he intended to catch had his full attention. His eyes did not wander from the depths for a single moment.
Guo Jing settled Lotus by the willow tree and tiptoed to the edge of the water, taking care not to disturb the man. He was eager to see what could be lurking at the bottom of such a fearsome waterfall. At length, he caught a flash of gold from deep in the plunge pool, and the fisher’s face also lit up.
The rod bent and bucked against the man’s grasp.
A golden fish had taken the bait.
Guo Jing watched in wonderment. The shimmery creature was neither fish nor snake, its head and body wide and flat. He had never seen a living thing quite like it.
“What is it?” he exclaimed, excited.
Just then, another strange golden fish clasped its mouth over the fishing line. The fisher was ecstatic, shifting his grip on his fishing rod, which was rapidly warping at ever more extreme angles. Any moment now, it would fly out of the man’s hands … Pak! It snapped in two.
With the line now slack, the pair of curious fish managed to detach themselves from the hook and fishing line, swimming leisurely in circles in front of the fisher, as if to bait him. In the blink of an eye, they slipped into a gap between two boulders. Somehow, they seemed to be unaffected by the churn of the crashing flow.
“Stinker!” the fisher roared, glaring at the insolent boy. “All day, I’ve been sitting here. And you! You come by and scare them away!” The man jumped to his feet and raised his enormous hands—each as large as a palm-leaf fan—menacingly, ready to give the intruder a good swat. Then, after a moment’s conspicuous internal struggle, he settled for clenching his fists, his knuckles popping audibly.
“Forgive me, Uncle,” Guo Jing said. “What fish was that?”
“Haven’t you got eyes? Fish? Do they look like fish? They’re gold wah-wahs.”
“What?” Guo Jing giggled at the funny name.
“Are you deaf, stupid boy? I said, gold wah-wahs!”
Guo Jing bowed and cupped his hand to apologize to the man and to appease him. He needed him to point them in the direction of King Duan’s retreat.
Lotus could not stand the man’s exasperated splutters anymore and said, “You mean golden salamanders, right? What’s so special about them? I’ve got a few pairs at home.”
“Oh, really? A few pairs?” The fisher snorted in disbelief and gave the impudent girl an appraising look. He would test her knowledge of these amphibians. “Do you know what they’re used for?”
“Used for? Who cares? I like how they look and how they cry wah-wah-wah like a babe. So, I got hold of some to keep as pets.”
All at once, the man’s tone became almost civil. “If you really do have so many of them at home, lass, do spare a pair for me—for my loss.”
“Why?”
“I caught one just now—” he jabbed his finger at Guo Jing—“and his shouting drew the other one out, snapping my fishing rod. These gold wah-wahs are clever. They never fall for the same ruse twice. You scared my gold wah-wahs away, and you need to put that right.”
“You’d have only caught one, though. You said so yourself, they don’t fall for the same ruse twice.”
Scratching his head, but finding no answer for that, he said in a sulk, “Then give me one.”
“If you split a golden salamander from its mate, both will die within three days.”
“Alright, I was wrong.” The fisher wrapped his palm over his fist and bowed three times. “Would you kindly gift me a pair, please?” He was now certain of the girl’s familiarity with these unusual creatures.
“Tell me what you’re planning to do with them.”
“Very well. I’ll tell you everything.” The fisher realized nothing but the truth would convince this shrewd young woman. “My martial uncle traveled from Sindhu to visit my shifu and came upon this pair of gold wah-wahs on his journey. In his country, they have these venomous creatures that have been causing much harm to humans as well as livestock, but there are few humane ways to get rid of them. Gold wah-wahs happen to be their natural predators. He was going to bring this pair back to Sindhu and breed them. He’s entrusted me to look after them during his stay, but—”
“You were careless and they escaped. Into this pool!”
“How did you know?”
“Anyone who’s kept them knows how difficult it can be. I had five pairs and two escaped.”
The man’s eyes glowed with hope. “Give me a pair, please, good lady. You’d still have two pairs and you’ll save me from the wrath of my martial uncle.”
“Perhaps. Why were you so unpleasant just now?”
“I’ve got a short temper! I know! I should change. I really should!” It was the fisher’s turn to be obsequious. “Brother, I apologize, forgive me. Miss, where do you live? Is it far? Mind if I come with you?”
“Not very close, but not that far. Three or four thousand li, maybe?”
“You’re wasting my time, wench!” the fisher spat, waving his fist, which was almost as large as a vinegar vat. He so desired to give this impertinent girl a good thump, but then it occurred to him—she’s a girl, a young, willowy girl, I’d kill her with a single punch—and he restrained himself.
“Relax, Uncle.” Lotus grinned at the cantankerous man before turning to Guo Jing. She could tell he was ready to intervene if the man did turn violent. “Call the condors.”
He did as she asked, unsure how the birds could help.
Guo Jing’s whistle resonated in the valley and the fisher realized his lucky escape: Good thing I kept my temper under control. If we did come to blows, I’d suffer a beating at the hands of this lad.
Soon, the condors were in sight. Lotus pulled of a piece of bark from the willow tree and scratched a short note with a throwing needle:
Papa: Send me a pair of golden salamanders with the condors.
Your daughter Lotus presents this note with a bow.
Guo Jing cut two strips from his shirt and tied the message tightly to the male condor’s leg.
“Fly to Peach Blossom Island and come back quickly,” Lotus said to the birds.
Concerned that the condors would not understand, Guo Jing pointed east and repeated “Peach Blossom Island” three times.
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The condors cawed and arched their wings. After circling a few times over their masters, they headed east and soon disappeared into the clouds.
The fisher eyed the boy and the girl. “Peach Blossom Island? Who is Master Apothecary Huang to you?”
“He’s my papa,” Lotus said, full of pride.
“Oh.” The hot-tempered man said no more.
“The condors will be back with your gold wah-wahs in a few days.”
The fisher looked the two of them up and down, doubt and suspicion clouding his face.
6
“We have not had the pleasure of learning your name,” Guo Jing said with a bow.
“Why are you here? Who sent you?”
“We hope to seek an audience with King Duan.” Guo Jing ignored the briskness of the fisher’s questions, but he could not bring himself to lie, as Madam Ying had instructed, falsely claiming that they had been sent by Count Seven Hong.
“Shifu has no dealings with the outside world. What do you want with him?”
If it were up to Guo Jing, he would have told the truth, but what if honesty cost them the chance to meet the King of the South?
When Guo Jing hesitated, the fisher scrutinized Lotus and noticed how pale her cheeks were. “You want my shifu to heal you.”
Guo Jing moved his head up and down as regret filled his heart. He should have lied from the start.
“He won’t see you!” the fisher roared. “And I’ll face chastisement. Forget your gold wah-wahs. Leave. Now!”
Surprised by the vehement refusal, Guo Jing stood there, unsure what to do next. At length, he cupped his hands and bowed low. “She is appealing for help as Apothecary Huang’s only daughter and the Chief of the Beggar Clan. We hope Uncle would think on Lord Huang and Chief Hong, and show us the way so we can pay King Duan the respect due to a hero of his stature.”
The mention of Count Seven Hong instantly calmed the irate man. “She’s the Beggar Chief? I don’t believe it,” he said, shaking his head.
Guo Jing pointed to the bamboo stick in Lotus’s hand. “This is the emblem of the Chief of the Beggar Clan, the Dog-Beating Cane. I am sure Uncle recognizes it.”