by Jin Yong
“But that isn’t the reason he fears me,” Count Seven Hong said, after some time.
“What is it, then?” Lotus asked.
“About twenty years ago, I happened upon him while he was up to no good . . .”
“Tell us!” Lotus loved a good story.
“Well . . . the Codger fell for some evil notion . . . of gathering yin to replenish yang. He captured a lot of maidens and . . . deflowered them in the hope of gaining immortality.”
“What do you mean?”
The beggar struggled for words. He could not have known that Lotus’s mother died in childbirth, nor that she had grown up around male and female servants who had been forbidden to speak by her father. She knew nothing of the physical matters that connected a man and a woman. She thought that a husband and a wife would always stay together, like she and Guo Jing would. She knew the sweetness she felt around Guo Jing, and the pain when they were forced apart. But what happened between the sheets . . .?
“Did he kill them?” she pressed on.
“No . . . For a woman, it’s a fate worse than death. You’ve heard the saying, ‘Grave is the loss of chastity, trifling is the loss of life’, right?”
“Did he cut off their ears and noses?”
“Fie! Stop pestering me! Ask your mother!”
“I don’t have one.”
“Oh . . . Then you’ll find out on your wedding night.”
She finally understood – that act of shame – but her curiosity was not bound by modesty. “What happened next?”
Count Seven sighed, relieved that she did not press him further for the details of Liang’s misdeeds. “I caught him and gave him a good beating, before pulling out his whole head of hair. I made him send the girls home and swear never to do it again. He knew, if I caught him at it one more time, I’d make him beg for death. I heard that he has stayed away from it since, so perhaps I was right to let him go. Has he got hair now?”
“A head full!” Lotus chuckled. “It must have hurt.”
With a laugh, Count Seven Hong turned back to the more important business of eating. When they had finished the meal, Lotus said, “I won’t take your cane, even if you give it to me. But we won’t be travelling together long, anyway. What if we bump into him again? ‘I backed down to please Chief Hong,’ he’ll say, ‘but, now you’re alone, I’ll avenge myself and pull out all your hair!’ What should we do then? Haughty Dragon Repents is powerful, but Guo Jing only learned this one move from you. I bet you the Codger will tell people, ‘Chief Hong’s kung fu is powerful, but he hasn’t got much to teach others.’”
“I know what you’re trying to do. You won’t be short-changed if you keep the tasty food coming.”
Lotus took Count Seven by the hand and led him and Guo Jing back to the forest. The beggar taught Guo Jing the second move of the Dragon-Subduing Palm – Dragon Soars in the Sky. It was three days before Guo Jing grasped the essential technique of springing up and using his own momentum to strike down, while Count Seven was treated to a dozen new delicacies by Lotus, who no longer pestered him to teach her kung fu.
4
A MONTH PASSED. BY NOW, GUO JING HAD LEARNED FIFTEEN out of the Dragon-Subduing Palm’s eighteen moves, from Haughty Dragon Repents all the way to Dragon in the Field.
Dragon-Subduing Palm had long been regarded as the ultimate external kung fu, invincible and indomitable. During the Northern Song period, at the turn of the first millennium, Xiao Feng, then Chief of the Beggar Clan, staged a contest with the heroes of the martial world. Few could withstand more than three moves of his Dragon-Subduing Palm, and no-one had ever found a way to overcome its might. At the time, there were twenty-eight moves, but Xiao Feng and his sworn brother, Hollow Bamboo, later distilled it down to eighteen, making this already matchless kung fu even more impregnable. Decades later, Count Hong used the repertoire to win the respect of the martial Greats at the summit of Mount Hua.
Count Seven Hong only intended to teach Guo Jing two or three moves, more than enough to keep the young man alive against any opponents. Yet the culinary magic conjured by Lotus Huang had ensnared the gourmet in Count Seven Hong. He could not find the will to tear himself away. The young man might be slow on the uptake, but he compensated with persistence, practising night and day. He had already grasped the essence of the moves; the rest would come as his internal strength and control grew. In this short space of time, Guo Jing had become a formidable martial artist.
One day, as the three of them were eating breakfast, Count Seven Hong said, “It’s time to go our separate ways.”
“But I’ve still got lots of dishes I want to cook for you,” Lotus replied.
“As the saying goes, ‘There’s no such thing as a never-ending banquet’, but there are more delicacies than one can eat in a lifetime. I’ve never taken on any disciples or taught any one fighter for more than three days. Yet we’ve spent more than thirty together. If I stay any longer, I’ll be in big trouble.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ll have learned all my tricks.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to teach him all eighteen moves?”
“Fie! Nice for you, perhaps, but not for me!” Count Seven Hong picked up his gourd and left without another word.
Guo Jing hastened after Count Seven, but the beggar’s lightness kung fu was extraordinary. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished out of sight.
“Master Hong! Master Hong!” Guo Jing ran into the pine forest. Lotus followed, calling his name too.
Count Seven stopped and came back to meet them. “Why are you following me? I’ll never teach you again!”
“Sir, your student is deeply grateful and has no wish to test your patience. Please allow me to thank you for your generosity.” Guo Jing kneeled and kowtowed, knocking his head audibly on the ground before standing up.
“Stop! I taught you in order to satisfy my belly. You’ve paid me fair and square. I’m not your shifu and you’re not my disciple.” Hong dropped to his knees and began to kowtow.
Flabbergasted by such an unorthodox response, Guo Jing kneeled once more. Count Seven caught him mid-motion and jabbed at the pressure point in his armpit. Guo Jing was frozen. The beggar then kowtowed at Guo Jing four times before he let him move again.
“Never speak of your kowtows. You are not my protégé.”
Guo Jing understood that Count Seven meant what he said, and kept quiet.
“You’ve been so kind to us. I was hoping to cook for you again, when we next meet, but . . . I fear . . . it won’t be possible.” Lotus was starting to sound teary.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a host of dangerous men out there who wish to do us harm. The Ginseng Codger is just one of them. They mean to kill us!”
“We all die sooner or later.”
“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” Lotus said with a shake of her head. “They’re going to find out that I cooked for you and, in exchange, you taught me kung fu. They’ll force me to make Floating Moon in the Fragrance of Twilight or When Will the Moonlit River Shine on Her? – delicacies you haven’t tried yet. What an insult to your name!”
Count Seven Hong knew she was bluffing – provoking him, in fact – but the thought that someone else might taste dishes he had yet to try upset him all the same.
“Who are these men?” Hong asked.
“The Dragon King Hector Sha, for one. The way he eats is most disgusting. Spitting everywhere. Onto my beautiful dishes!”
“Hector Sha is a nobody,” Count Seven snorted. “Your silly lad will beat him easily, in a year or two.”
Lotus then named Lama Supreme Wisdom Lobsang Choden Rinpoche and Tiger Peng, the Butcher of a Thousand Hands, who were both dismissed by Count Seven Hong as nobodies too.
The last name Lotus mentioned piqued the beggar’s interest. Listening closely to Lotus’s explanation of his moves and stance, Count Seven nodded and said, “It’s him, then.”
“Is he scary?”
Lotus was surprised by how grave his expression turned upon hearing the name of Gallant Ouyang, Master of White Camel Mount.
“Another nobody. But his uncle, the old Venom—”
“Surely he can’t beat you?”
Count Seven fell silent.
“We were about equal, but that was two decades ago . . .” he said at last. “He works hard on his kung fu, whereas I just like to eat. But, then again, it’s not easy beating this old beggar.”
“I’m sure he couldn’t.”
“It’s hard to say . . . We’ll see. If the Viper’s spawn wants to make trouble for you, then we must be careful. I’ll stay with you for another fortnight, on the condition that you won’t cook me the same dish twice, or else I’ll slap my arse and go. And you must serve me your very, very best. So, if you are caught one day, they won’t get better food than me.”
Delighted, Lotus put her heart into preparing every meal – even the side dishes and staples were unique. Pot stickers, siu mai, steamed dumplings, boiled dumplings, wontons, pak choi rice, fried rice, rice soup, rice cake, flower rolls, rice noodles, shredded tofu, bean noodles, scallion pancake, garlic chive buns . . . Count Seven Hong also honoured his part of the bargain, honing their reactions and giving them guidance on self-defence during combat. And yet, he did not quite get round to teaching Guo Jing the last three moves of Dragon-Subduing Palm. He did continue to help the young man consolidate his understanding of the first fifteen moves, which only increased the potency of the kung fu he had learned from the Six Freaks of the South.
Count Seven Hong was a vast repository of martial arts techniques in every style known to the wulin. He selected the more quirky ones for Lotus, to keep her amused. They were full of dizzying flourishes, to be sure, but none of them could overpower opponents as effectively as the straightforward Dragon-Subduing Palm.
One evening, at dusk, Guo Jing was finishing up his daily practice in the woods as Count Seven Hong lounged on the forest floor, half watching and half dozing, and Lotus Huang foraged for pine nuts nearby. She had already begun naming the dish she was going to prepare for dinner: Three Friends of Winter, if she matched the pine nuts with bamboo shoots and salted plums; or Longevity Pine and Crane, if she added chicken broth to the three ingredients. Her deliberations were making Count Seven Hong’s mouth water.
Hmm! The beggar huffed and hopped onto his feet. He stooped and swept his arms through the undergrowth. When he straightened up, he had a snake pinched between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. Two-foot long and bright green. He pushed Lotus lightly with his other hand, sending her stumbling back.
“Snakes!” Lotus yelped.
The shrub rustled. More serpents reared their heads. Count Seven Hong brandished his bamboo cane. Each flick of his wrist felled an unsuspecting snake instantly, as he struck it seven inches from the head.
Lotus cheered. But, even as she did so, Count Seven noticed two vipers slithering up her dress. At that moment, they lodged their fangs into her back. He was familiar with the venom of the green tree viper. There was no time to lose if he was going to neutralise their lethal poison.
A crescendo of hisses. From all directions. The grass had come alive. Flickering and slithering.
Count Seven Hong grabbed Lotus’s belt and took Guo Jing’s hand. Using his fastest qinggong, he flew out of the woods until they reached the inn.
“How are you feeling?” He was surprised by how unaffected Lotus seemed to be by the snake bites.
“I’m fine.” She smiled.
Guo Jing now noticed the snakes dangling from her back and tugged at one of them. Count Seven shouted – “Stop!” – but he had already pulled it off.
“Of course, your father gave you his Hedgehog Chainmail.” The beggar looked at the snake that was still stuck to Lotus’s back.
Just as Guo Jing was about to remove it, a mass of the creatures emerged from the forest. Count Seven took a yellowish cake of herbal medicine from his shirt and chewed it vigorously. Hundreds of luminous green snakes were slithering towards them. Countless more were spilling out between the trees.
Guo Jing grabbed Count Seven Hong’s hand. “Let’s go inside!”
Ignoring Guo Jing, Count Seven pulled the gourd from his back, unplugged it and took a big gulp of wine. He gurgled loudly, mixing the wine with the chewed herbs. Then he pursed his lips and a jet of wine shot out from between them like an arrow. Turning from left to right, he sprayed a perfect arc of wine across the ground before him.
The scent instantly put the nearest snakes into a stupor and they were paralysed on the spot. Those further back hesitated, then turned on their tails, tangling with the thousands more swarming in the opposite direction.
Shrill calls emanated from the trees and three men in bright white robes emerged. They each waved and jabbed a wooden staff, more than two zhang in height, through the sea of snakes, herding them like cattle. Lotus found it amusing at first, but soon she began to feel as if hair had sprouted from her throat and she was overcome by nausea.
Count Seven Hong flicked a snake up with his cane and caught it between the index and middle fingers of his left hand. He then sliced open its belly with the extra sharp nail of his little finger and pulled out a green blob.
“Swallow this whole. Don’t chew. It’s very bitter.”
Lotus gulped it down and felt better at once.
“Do you feel sick?” she asked Guo Jing.
He shook his head. He had not noticed that the snakes were avoiding him as he fled from the forest. He did not realise that the blood of Greybeard Liang’s python, which he had sucked in a desperate attempt to free himself from its stranglehold in the Jin Prince’s palace, had imbued him with a scent repellent to serpents. Not only that, but it made him immune to most venoms.
“They keep the snakes!” Lotus squealed in alarm.
Count Seven nodded, his eyes fixed on the three men.
The snake herders were incensed by the beggar’s audacity. How dare he kill their snake and give its gall bladder to the girl! They whistled a command to settle their flock and started marching, side by side, towards them.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” one of them bellowed.
“Are you?” Lotus retorted.
Count Seven patted her on the shoulder in approval.
The snake herder nearest Lotus swung his staff at her. He looked jaundiced and past the prime of his youth, yet he wielded the weapon with strength.
Count Seven Hong tapped his cane lightly against the man’s staff, halting it in mid-air. He then turned his wrist and cried, “Shoo!”
The man sailed backwards and landed flat on his back, crushing at least a dozen snakes. He too must have taken a herb mixture, as the snakes refrained from attacking him.
Frightened by the unexpected turn of events, his companions stumbled back several paces. “What’s going on?” one of them managed to stutter.
Meanwhile, the first man tried to scrabble to his feet, but he was still winded from his fall. He crashed to the ground once more, killing even more snakes. Grabbing the tip of the staff offered by his fellow herder, he hauled himself upright. Together, they retreated to stand among the snakes.
“Who are you?” the jaundiced man cried.
Count Seven Hong laughed, ignoring the question. Once again, it was Lotus who spoke. “Why are you herding these snakes?”
The snake herders exchanged a look and one of them made as if to respond. Just then, a fourth man emerged from the woods. Dressed in a snowy white scholar’s robe, the man walked among the serpents as if they were not there, lazily wafting his gentleman’s folding fan. The creatures parted as he approached. Guo Jing and Lotus watched in astonishment.
The snake herders approached the newcomer deferentially and whispered a few words, stealing glances at Count Seven Hong. A flash of surprise crossed the scholar’s face. He collected himself immediately and nodded at his men.
He put his hands together in greeting and addresse
d Count Seven Hong. “Pardon my servants; their ignorance has caused offence and I am grateful for your forbearance.” He then turned to Lotus. “What good fortune that my lady is here. I have been searching far and wide for you.”
“Count Seven, he is a nasty man; you must teach him a lesson.” Lotus ignored him completely.
The beggar nodded. “There are specific rules and standards governing the herding of snakes. And none of them permits it in broad daylight.”
“These snakes have travelled a long way and they are famished. It is not possible to abide by the rules always.” The scholar spoke politely, but his demeanour was defiant.
“How many people have fallen prey to your creatures?” Count Seven asked.
“Hardly any; we only herd them through the wilderness.”
“Your name’s Ouyang, isn’t it?”
“My lady must have told you. May I ask the Elder’s name?”
“His name alone will leave you cowering in fear,” Lotus interjected.
The man was not bothered by the insult. Instead, he cocked his head and leered at her.
“You’re Viper Ouyang’s son, aren’t you?”
“How dare you use our Master’s name, beggar!” one of the herders cried.
Count Seven Hong tapped his cane, flew up and swooped down like a bird of prey.
Smack, smack, smack!
Another tap of the cane and the beggar glided back to the inn. His feet never touched the ground.
“Teach me, please!” Lotus was amazed.
The men groaned in pain and cradled their chins. Count Seven had dislocated their jaws using a Split Muscles Lock Bones move.
“Sir, you know my uncle?” The scholar was shocked by the display.
“I haven’t seen the Venom for more than twenty years. I trust he still lives?”
Furious as he may have been, Gallant Ouyang knew his kung fu was no match for the beggar’s; he must tread carefully. “Uncle often jokes that he intends to cling to life long enough to see all his friends meet their end.”
“Think you’re smart enough to insult me?” Count Seven laughed, then pointed at the snakes. “What are you doing with these precious little creatures?”