by Jin Yong
“Apothecary Huang is the Heretic of the East?” Ke Zhen’e asked.
“Correct.” Qiu Chuji turned to Guo Jing. “Though Brother Ma taught you for a time, it’s lucky that he never took you on as a disciple. Otherwise, you would be a generation beneath your betrothed, in terms of seniority – that’s no way to start a marriage!” He laughed heartily at his own joke.
“I’m not marrying her.” Guo Jing’s face turned bright red.
“What?”
“I’m not marrying her.”
“Why?” Qiu Chuji stood up, clearly displeased.
Jade Han came to Guo Jing’s rescue. “When we heard that Master Yang had a son, we took it that Guo Jing had gained a sworn brother rather than a bride-to-be. He has since accepted the title granted by Genghis Khan, the Prince of the Golden Blade, as his daughter’s betrothed.”
Glaring at Guo Jing, Qiu Chuji cried, “A common-born girl is no contest against a princess! You are determined to disregard the future your father settled for you, aren’t you? You greedy ingrate! You’re no better than Wanyan Kang!”
Guo Jing bowed deeply. “Your student has never met his father. My mother did not mention any last wish. I beg Your Reverence to enlighten me.”
“I am always too rash.” Qiu Chuji laughed ruefully, and then recounted how he had met Ironheart Yang and Skyfury Guo in Ox Village eighteen years before, and how the two men had made a pact. He also told Guo Jing of his search for the families after hearing that they had been attacked by soldiers, which led to his fight with the Freaks. They were supposed to settle the dispute with a martial contest between their respective disciples, Wanyan Kang and Guo Jing.
The young man sank to his knees. As a son, he should avenge his father; as a disciple, he should repay his shifus’ kindness. Was one lifetime enough to do both?
“It is common for a man to have three or four wives,” Jade Han said, in an effort to comfort him. “When you return to Mongolia, speak with the Great Khan. I am certain he will be understanding and there will be no need for you to break your word. I’ll wager the Khan himself has more than a hundred.”
“I’m not marrying Princess Khojin,” Guo Jing announced.
“What?” It was Jade Han’s turn to be surprised.
“I don’t want her to be my wife.”
“But you are so close, aren’t you?”
“She is like a sister, a good friend. I don’t want her to be my wife.”
This pleased Qiu Chuji. “Good lad! Who cares about the Khan or the Princess? You should follow your father and Uncle Yang’s wishes. Marry Miss Mu.”
“I am not marrying Miss Mu either,” he declared firmly, shaking his head.
“What is going on? Is your heart otherwise occupied?” Jade Han asked quietly, remembering the pretty girl in white she had seen in the palace. She had noticed the way Guo Jing looked at her and how she had come to his aid.
Guo Jing’s face flushed bright red once more. After a prickly pause, his chin moved up and down, almost imperceptibly.
“Who?” Qiu Chuji and Ryder Han called out in unison.
Guo Jing opened and closed his mouth. No sound came out. Jade Han knew the boy was too embarrassed to be able to string two words together. “It’s the girl in white, isn’t it?”
“What girl in white?” Qiu Chuji snapped.
“I remember Cyclone Mei calling her ‘little sister’ and her father ‘Shifu’ . . .” Jade Han mumbled.
“Apothecary Huang’s daughter?!” Ke Zhen’e exclaimed, jumping from his seat.
Jade Han took Guo Jing’s hands. “Is her name Huang?”
“Yes.”
She did not know what else to say.
“You want to marry someone associated with Cyclone Mei?” Ke Zhen’e spat the words out.
“Did her father give you her hand?” Zhu Cong asked.
“I have never met him and I don’t know who he is.”
“You have pledged yourselves to each other?”
Guo Jing gaped at his Second Shifu, unsure what the question meant.
Zhu Cong elaborated. “Did you say you would marry her? Did she promise to be your wife?”
“No, we did not say that.” Guo Jing paused. “There’s no need. We know in our hearts. We cannot be without each other.”
“What do you mean?” It sounded ridiculous to Ryder Han, who had never been in love in his life. The words had a very different effect on his cousin Jade, however.
Guo Jing is just like Fifth Brother, she thought, as memories of Zhang Asheng came flooding back. He was in love with me, but he kept it a secret. He thought he wasn’t good enough for me. If I had made my feelings known to him, we could have tasted true happiness before he died. But now, he is gone forever.
“Do you know that her father is a cold-blooded killer?” Zhu Cong warned. “Do you think he’ll let you live when he finds out? Cyclone Mei has not mastered one-tenth of his repertoire and she is already such a terror. If he wants you dead, none of us can help you.”
“Lotus is so nice . . . Her father can’t be evil.”
“Apothecary Huang is evil incarnate. Swear you will never see that she-demon again. Swear it!” Ryder Han roared.
The Freaks hated everything to do with Twice Foul Dark Wind, for they had killed their Fifth Brother Zhang Asheng; and they hated Apothecary Huang even more, for he was the source of their infernal kung fu. Without this monstrous Heretic of the East, Laughing Buddha Zhang Asheng would still be alive today.
Ryder Han took a step closer. “Say it. Say that you’ll never see that she-demon again!”
Guo Jing did not know what to do. He loved and respected his teachers, and he had never gone against their wishes, but he knew what his heart was telling him. He fell on his knees in tears. “Shifus, if I’m not allowed to see Lotus, I will not survive three days.”
“Have you no shame?” A melodic voice drifted in through the window.
7
LOTUS! GUO JING RUSHED OUT OF THE ROOM. THERE SHE WAS, standing in the courtyard with his horse, Ulaan. The magnificent creature whinnied and reared, excited to see his master.
Guo Jing turned to his mentors as they came out into the courtyard. “Third Shifu, this is Lotus. She’s a nice girl, not a she-demon.”
“Why did you call me a she-demon, tubby man?” Lotus Huang glowered at Ryder Han and Zhu Cong in turn. “And you, you filthy scholar, why did you call my father a cold-blooded killer?”
Zhu Cong had never set eyes on such beauty in all his years. No wonder Guo Jing was so smitten. He smiled foolishly and said nothing.
“Be off with you. Shoo!” Ryder Han’s whiskers bristled in agitation.
“Squat melon, roll and roll.
One kick to the backside,
And there he goes . . .”
Lotus Huang sang, beating time with her hands. Ryder Han charged at her. She skipped sideways, evading him with ease.
“They’re my teachers!” Guo Jing pleaded.
Lotus pulled a face and stuck her tongue out.
“Squat melon, roll and roll.
One kick . . .”
Lotus took hold of Guo Jing’s belt and leapt into the air. They landed together on the horse’s saddle. The moment she placed her hands on the reins, Ulaan shot out of the inn like an arrow. However fast Ryder Han’s lightness kung fu might be, he could not keep up with a Fergana horse from the Mongolian steppe, whose hooves were so light and quick it was as if they were borne on wind and lightning.
Only moments had passed, but Guo Jing could no longer make out the faces of his mentors and the inn was rapidly reducing to a dot on the horizon. The air parted before him, the wind whistled in his ears. Lotus had taken her left hand off the reins to hold his hand. He felt guilty for running from his shifus, abandoning his obligations, but how could he give up Lotus? She was dearer to him than life itself. He would rather lose his head and bleed dry than obey his teachers’ wishes and go against his heart.
In a short space of time, Ula
an had taken them dozens of li away from Zhongdu. Certain that no-one could catch up with them, Lotus pulled on the reins and stopped by a brook to rest. The magnificent steed rubbed his head affectionately against Guo Jing, delighted to see his master again after a few days of separation.
The young couple had only been apart for a matter of hours, but so much had transpired in that time that they had feared they would never see each other again. There was so much they wanted to say to each other, and neither knew where to start. At the same time, they knew the other person had already understood and there was no need to say anything out loud. Holding hands was enough.
They stood together with their fingers entwined for a long time. Eventually, Lotus took a handkerchief from the saddlebag and moistened it in the stream. She held it out for Guo Jing, but he was lost to the world.
“That’s what we’ll do,” he said suddenly. “We’ll go back.”
“Together?”
“Yes, I’ll tell my shifus and the Elders that you’re a nice girl, you’re not a she-demon, and that I . . . I cannot be without you.” Guo Jing took her hand, speaking as if the Freaks were in front of him. “Shifus, I could never repay your kindness, but . . . but Lotus . . . Lotus is not a she-demon. She is a very, very nice girl . . . She is very, very . . . nice . . .” There were so many wonderful things about Lotus, but he had never been good with words. That was the best he could come up with.
Moved by his conviction, Lotus was also amused by how tongue-tied he was. “They hate me. They won’t listen to you. Let’s run away. We can live in the mountains, or move to an island. We can go to a place where they’ll never find us, a place where we can be together.”
For a moment, Guo Jing was tempted, then he said, with certainty, “We have to go back.”
“They’ll split us up. We’ll never see each other again.”
“I won’t part from you, even in death. Shifus, I have always obeyed you, but I cannot leave Lotus. You can kill me – I will not run, I will not complain – but I will never part from her.”
Lotus had always had a pessimistic streak, despite her outward good humour. She was not hopeful about her future with Guo Jing after overhearing the exchange in the inn, but his resolve restored her faith. After all, their hearts were one. No man or power in this world could separate them.
“I’ll always be with you. Death can’t part us; not even Papa can split us up.”
“See? You’re very, very nice . . .”
That made Lotus laugh. “Why don’t we let Ulaan rest a little? We should have a snack too.” She pulled out a hunk of beef from the saddlebag and coated it in mud, before collecting dried branches for a fire.
IT WAS already afternoon by the time they arrived back at the inn. The innkeeper, remembering Guo Jing’s generous tips, welcomed him warmly.
“Sir, your party has already left the capital. Would you like something to eat?”
“Did they leave a message?”
“No, they went south a few hours ago.”
“Let’s catch up with them.”
Guo Jing and Lotus galloped south, but could find no sign of the Freaks or the Taoists. They tried another route, questioning passers-by and shopkeepers along the way, but no-one had seen anyone matching the Freaks’ physical descriptions. Ulaan had galloped several dozen li with two in the saddle, but he showed no sign of fatigue.
“We’ll see your shifus in Jiaxing on the evening of Moon Festival,” Lotus said, to cheer Guo Jing up. “You can tell them how ‘very, very nice’ I am then.”
“That’s six months from now.”
“Well, that gives us six months to travel!”
8
THE NEXT MORNING, GUO JING PURCHASED A WHITE HORSE for himself to lighten the load on Ulaan. They travelled southwards at a leisurely pace, enjoying the scenery. Sometimes they slept under the stars, side by side; sometimes they shared a room in a village inn. Close though they were, they were always chaste.
Lotus Huang had been brought up under the influence of her father Apothecary Huang’s unorthodox views, rejecting the etiquette and rules of the time. She saw nothing untoward or unusual about Guo Jing’s companionship. Guo Jing, with his upbringing in Mongolia, simply followed his heart. He had always done what felt right and natural to him. They also had plenty of gold and silver, so they wanted for nothing on their journey.
By the fourth lunar month, they were approaching the Tainingjun area of Xiqing city in eastern Shandong. Having been in the saddle all morning that warm, sunny day, their faces were sticky with sweat and dirt from the road.
“Let’s find a spot of shade,” Lotus said.
“The town is just ahead. Why don’t we stop there for a pot of tea?” Guo Jing replied.
They soon caught sight of a group plodding ahead of them. A portly man in a purple silk robe sat astride a frail and sickly donkey, fanning himself frantically. The beast buckled under his enormous weight, at least two hundred and fifty jin. By his side was a sedan chair. The drapes were tied back, and a plump woman in pink sat within. Her litter was carried by two elderly, stick-thin porters. A maid walked alongside, waving a large fan to cool her mistress.
Intrigued by the spectacle, Lotus said, “I’m going to take a better look at the lady,” and urged Ulaan forward.
As she overtook the party, she turned the horse and peered into the sedan chair. She saw a woman in her forties with a face as broad as a washbasin, a pair of small beady eyes, a wide mouth and a flat nose. Her skin was caked in a thick layer of powder, scored through by rivulets of sweat pouring from her forehead. A golden hairpin, a red satin flower and a pair of fleshy ears protruded from her rotund head of hair.
“What are you looking at?” The large lady glared at Lotus.
“I wish to admire your shapely figure and good looks!” Lotus laughed and tightened the reins. Ulaan galloped straight at the sedan chair.
The servants let go and the litter hit the ground, sending the woman tumbling into the middle of the road with a flail, a scream, and then a curse.
Lotus chuckled at such a fine joke. But, before she could ride away, the man on the donkey lashed at her with his riding crop.
“You little rascal!”
Lotus grabbed the end and pulled. The man lost his balance and fell, at which Lotus turned the crop on him.
“Highway robbery! Murder!” the woman screamed.
Lotus pulled out her Emei Needles and sliced the woman’s left ear off, making her squeal like a pig at the slaughter.
The man fell to his knees. “Mistress, spare our lives – we will give you gold.”
“Who wants your gold? Who is she?”
“She’s my wife . . . We’re going . . . going to her parents’.”
“You’re big and strong – can’t you walk? Behave, and I’ll let you live.”
“Whatever Mistress commands!”
Lotus was tickled at being addressed so formally by someone older than her in age. “You three. Into the sedan chair.” The porters and the maid straightened the litter and climbed in without a word. There was still room to turn inside.
All eyes were on Lotus. No-one dared guess what she might come up with next.
“You may have a few ingots to your name, but you can’t walk over people like that! Do you want to live or die?”
“Live! We want to live!” husband and wife shouted in unison.
“Well, it’s your turn. Carry the chair!”
“I . . . don’t know how,” the woman said, her hand pressed against her bleeding face.
“If you refuse . . .” Lotus swiped her Emei Needle flat against the plump woman’s nose.
The woman shrieked and covered her nose. Then she scrabbled to lift the carrying poles onto her shoulders and her husband followed suit. Well fed as they were, the couple were more able to manage the weight than their servants.
Lotus and Guo Jing escorted the group a short distance before galloping away. They turned back to look and saw that the couple were st
ill earnestly carrying the chair.
Lotus giggled. “What a horrible woman. She’d be perfect for Qiu Chuji.”
“He doesn’t want a wife,” Guo Jing said.
“Of course not, but then he’d know how it feels to have one forced upon him. You said you didn’t want to marry Miss Mu, but he kept harassing you. One day, when my kung fu is stronger than his, I’ll force him to take a nasty wife.”
“Lotus, Miss Mu isn’t horrible or nasty. But my heart is yours.” Guo Jing suddenly realised how much Qiu Chuji’s words had troubled Lotus.
“I may be a frightful mistress, but at least I’m pretty. And I’ll never be horrible to you!”
ONE DAY, as they ambled along a tree-lined road, the song of a babbling brook caught Lotus’s attention. She galloped ahead through the trees and was welcomed by the sight of a deep stream framed by willow branches that reached down to the surface of the water. The water was so clear that she could see pebbles in green, white, red and purple on the riverbed, obscured only by an abundance of fish.
Lotus took off her outer garments and the Hedgehog Chainmail, and jumped into the water. In no time, she emerged with a fish flapping in her hand.
“Catch!”
Guo Jing tried his grappling kung fu on the fish, but it slipped away and lay thrashing about on the ground.
“Come into the water.”
Guo Jing did not know how to swim, having spent his whole childhood in the landlocked Mongolia. He took off his shirt and stepped gingerly into the water. Lotus dived and tugged on his leg, upsetting his balance. He panicked and went under, swallowing a lungful of water.
Laughing, Lotus pulled him up and taught him how to breathe and float. The key to swimming lay in controlled breathing, and that happened to be something Guo Jing knew very well from his internal kung fu training. In a few hours’ time, he had grasped the basics. They grilled fish for dinner and camped by the brook that night.