by Mark Swaine
“My Emperor, what troubles you?” asks General Seto.
“Send word to the Blue Coastal Clan, tell them to ready their ships and make sail...” commands Yu-Huang, pausing.
“To what heading Master Yu-Huang?” asks General Seto.
“The Aoi Tori (Blue Bird Island) Island of Japan,” says Yu-Huang finally.
The dream sequence suddenly halts as he dives head first into a ravaged ocean. Yu-Huang's slender body swims through the harsh currents to rescue as many people as he can. Using “Tai Shuǐ Chi” (Supreme Water Fist), he creates a network of upward spiralling currents sending the survivors back to the surface in the direction of the dragon boats. Above the rolling sea line hundreds of people rush above the waves and impact the sails of the Blue Coastal dragon boats. As the island breaks apart and sinks in a sure and slanted slide, temples crumble and topple over, creating large waves. After hours of holding his breath, Yu-Huang rushes upward and breaks the surface of an approaching Tsunami. With the sun beating down on his neck, he hovers still, high above the dragon boats with his hand latched onto the ocean wind. As the island sinks completely, he sees a group of trapped children being dragged into the ocean. But he also sees a girl with two other children screaming for his attention as they fight the waves to a nearby fishing boat. Yu-Huang sees a man swimming to the girl’s aid and so commits to rescuing the group of helpless and drowning children. Yu-Huang dives fast and flings the children to the closest dragonboat then flies back to aid the girl who is calling out to him. As more buildings collapse around him he sees and hears nothing but chaos and crashing water. He dives in and out of the ocean, punching his way through temples and searching the depths. But there is no trace of her, or the boat. As he turns to look to the glimmering sun above the film of water, the face of the drowned boy drifts in front of him with lifeless open eyes.
Yu-Huang wakes with a loud grunt and sits startled in bed, panting desperately for air. With the sun at its pinnacle and beating down on his face from the partially missing roof, for the first time in his life he finds himself so hungry he could eat the “Shōuhuò pí” (Harvest Ticks) of a dead dragons nuts. Staggering over to a pot basin he drenches his sweating body in cold water and gruffly readies himself to leave. With his mind out of sorts and feeling lethargic he grumpily grabs his rucksack and curses his senses. Stepping outside, he immediately shields his eyes from the strong sunlight and allows them to adjust. With his hunger bothering him, Yu-Huang's strong sense of smell homes in on the various scents coming from a far-off market stall. Drawn to the powerful scent of fried fish and vegetables, he follows the nose pleasing sensation to its origin. Yu-Huang has heard tales of Chao Gao's legendary fine cuisine, so he walks six miles to the “Chifan” (Eat) square. From the steady winding downhill lanes, he steps open to the reveal of open stretched merchant turf. In the Chifan square, market stalls, clothes merchants and various other traders fill the massive grounds with bustling chatter and constant bidding. Yu-Huang squeezes through the crowds of merchants bartering and haggling prices whilst passing cowrie shells back and forth. After being shoved, pushed and knocked about through the dense crowd, Yu-Huang reaches the stall at the far end of the square beside a rushing river. The steaming stall, selling freshly fried vegetables, poultry and seafood bustles with spectators marvelling at the busy handed chef tossing carrots, broccoli and bean sprouts in a huge sizzling wok.
A tiered arrangement of stretched iron grills, glows red and sizzles with excitement as Chao Gao grabs ten pieces of fish between his massive chubby fingers and slaps them on the stove. The lengthy chunks of white meat spit and sputter as they sear and brown underneath and Chao Gao moves to the next hob to flash fry a portion of Tom Yam chicken. Chao Gao has a clever system of running his kitchen, mainly due to his endless source of fuel and how he harnessed it. Below the half moon formation of cookers, a jagged hexagonal tank of bone and cartilage glows with dragon fire. Supported by a bed of rocks, the dragon's fuel gland connects to a small pipe that branches into a network of turns and fittings, eventually connecting to the main outlet. Chao Gao, turns a small valve on a wheel and reduces the red and violet flame to allow a gigantic pan of ‘Hǎi dàshé wěiba tāng’ (Tail of Sea Serpent Soup)’ to simmer. Chao Gao, a heavy man with a moustache and balding head, moves quickly as he tosses, shakes and stirs the oodles of pans of noodles and rice. In a shower of flour, he presses and flips a variety of tentacles and slabs of fish whilst rapidly rolling wantons and crispy rolls. Chao Gao had only arrived in the city a little over four seasons ago, but has worked hard to build his title of one of the finest chefs in the Huanghua territories. People flocked to his tiny stall to order his famous dishes. Dishes such as his “Niàng hóng làjiāo” (stuffed Red Hot Chilli Peppers), not for the faint hearted, Sugar Stingray (Táng Hóng), Hēi yǎn sān gè xǐyuè dòu dòu (Black eyed Three Delight Peas), his mother’s recipe, and many, many more. Chao Gao charges very little for a dragon scale of food and any leftovers he would fry up and give to the children and homeless. With a succession of rapidly focused thrusts, Chao Gao yanks out the struggling fish by their tails. After chopping of the heads of the flapping fish, it takes Chao Gao less than a minute to gut, fillet and wash a fish before adding the seasoning and tossing it onto the grill. Chao Gao never stopped for a break, not until the market place was empty.
Having arrived here with nothing but his dragon fuel cooker and the items of his old trade, Chao Gao is all too aware of just how difficult life can be when your pockets are empty of cowry shells or anything of worth to trade. It has taken him a long time to find his way, yet find his way he did by using one of his two talents. The large bellied Cook glances at the queue and doubles his efforts as he sees it winding like a snake through the market place. Yu-Huang patiently waits in line, happy to do so with his thoughts brighter than they were earlier. The aroma of fried squid, plaice and raw sushi complementing the rich scent of fresh steaming vegetables and rice begins to make his mouth water. Chao Gao double glances at Yu-Huang as he steps forward next in line and quickly fills a plate with an assortment of fresh steaming food. Yu-Huang smiles and offers thanks before offering him fifteen cowrie shells. The generous offer is more than triple what the cook would charge for such a bountiful meal. Chao Gao humbly refuses the payment whilst ushering the plate of hot food into his hands whilst bowing his head. Yu-Huang humbly accepts whilst bowing in return, then leaves the hustle and bustle of the square with his warm filling feast. As Yu-Huang walks to a nearby bench to tuck into his delicious meal, three passers-by knock into him. Two of the men bounce off the unintentional brick wall, and then advance to confront him.
“Please excuse me,” says Yu-Huang, bowing apologetically,
“Watch where you go!” snaps one of the arrogant men.
“I apologised,” says Yu-Huang, bemused. “A civilised man would return the gesture and continue on with goodwill,” he adds.
“Did you hear that... I should continue on with goodwill,” says the lout mockingly.
“You had best do as he says,” says his cocky friend.
“What if we do not?” asks the third man, before knocking Yu-Huang's plate out of his hands.
The plate rattles along the floor and the contents scatter, much to the amusement of the other two stooges. Yu-Huang looks at them disappointedly, and the longer he stares at their faces, the more he notices a strange unpleasant sensation making his heart beat faster. Yu-Huang looks down at his hand curled up into a shaking fist, and he wonders how good it would feel to use it sparingly on the three men. Challenged by Yu-Huang's tight scowling face, the three thugs advance on him. Yu-Huang suddenly composes himself as he realises what damage he is capable of inflicting. Not only to the three men, but everybody surrounding him. Yu-Huang slowly backs away, but finds himself being surrounded by the three yobs. The three men press forward, but are single-handedly tackled by a large pair of hands before they can attack. Chao Gao, having been observing the exchange from afar, rushes his fist towards a t
hug’s nose and watches it explode in a splatter of dark red. The thug’s partner in crime charges toward Chao Gao, and with his head buried under his armpit, he throws a barrage of underarm punches into his gut. Chao Gao looks condescendingly as the man's feeble fists bury and bounce off his flabby gut. Chao Gao grabs the man's head from under his sweaty armpit and brings his knee to his chin. The angry cook lowers and straight punches him in the stomach before twisting his large body around and bringing his foot to the back of his knee. As the man keels over in a foetal position whilst grabbing his kneecap, the third man bounds over and throws a punch. Chao Gao ducks whilst grabbing the man's arm and snaps it down over his shoulder, then grabs the man by his shoulders and twists him to face him before smashing his teeth with his forehead.
“You, what is your name?” asks Chao Gao, lifting the leader from the floor. “I asked your name?” repeats Chao Gao, slapping the scared man harshly across the face.
“Chenglei,” stutters the thug.
“Chenglei, I do not wish to see your faces around my stall again, ever,” warns Chao Gao, unsheathing a custom-made Dao sword from his back. “Should enough time pass for you to believe I have forgotten your faces and you decide to brave good fortune by crossing my path,” continues Chao, holding the blade against the instigator’s throat, “slices of Chenglei and special fried rice will be my special of the day, do you understand?” warns Chao Gao.
“Yes, yes I understand, I made a mistake,” replies the petrified thug.
“Yes, you did, go,” says Chao Gao gesturing to the side.
The three bloody faced men scarper with their arms dangling from their shoulders and Chao Gao sheathes his sword back into the scabbard under his back. Yu-Huang nods in gratitude to Chao Gao and takes a seat on the bench to calm his anger and settle the adrenaline pumping through his heart. Chao Gao returns to Yu-Huang and places a fresh portion of food into his hands, then pats him on the back before returning to his service. The cook's manner and kindness are able to sooth Yu-Huang's temper, and he smiles as his faith in humanity is restored. With his mind at ease, he tucks easily into the curved scale of rice, noodles, vegetables, fried fish and squid with a variety of sauces on the side. Yu-Huang senses a deep need for justice within Chao Gao's aching soul, and he notices that most of his kitchen utensils are formed from various parts of discarded dragon. He also senses Chao Gao's hate for dragons and lack of trust in his fellow man. Yu-Huang curiously delves into the man's soul while he is still able and senses he was once a proud, hard working family man working toward a bright future. But now, now even Chao Gao doesn't know what he is working towards, for all he has now is his devotion to his craft. Yu-Huang finishes his plate of food and returns it to Chao Gao's stall with a satisfied pat on his belly.
“Good?” asks Chao Gao with a smile.
“The best,” replies Yu-Huang.
“The best?” exclaims Chao Gao. “In that case I shall reserve your plate and expect your return,” adds the cook, placing it aside.
“Thank you for your generosity today Chao Gao,” says Yu-Huang.
“For without which we are merely consumers, 'tis my pleasure to give back to those who have given me so much,” says Chao Gao, addressing the Emperor without blowing his cover.
“Safer than slaying dragons I assume?” says Yu-Huang, quietly.
“Just the one, one dragon and fifty raiders. That was my past, this is my future,” replies Chao Gao, handing over four plates to a customer.
“May I ask, did you help me out of kindness, or duty?” says Yu-Huang.
“Yes,” replies Chao Gao answering both questions, “had I not intervened they would have forced your hand and blown your cover, and the Chifan square would have been destroyed along with my stall. But I do ask you return the favour, for I wish not to have my favourable reputation tarnished by the likes of raiders, thieves, or muggers,” says Chao Gao.
“Certainly,” replies Yu-Huang.
“I am not a bad man, it was just the one dragon, I assure you,” vows Chao Gao.
“You need not explain yourself. I wish you good fortune Chao Gao, until we meet again,” says Yu-Huang, kindly.
“I'll keep your plate warm traveller,” replies Chao Gao kindly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Later that night in the deserted market place, Chao Gao sets about cleaning his station and prepping his stock for the next morning’s service. After readying his station for the following day’s trade, he finally sits back on his stool and airs out his hot sweating armpits. In the fresh cool breeze, beneath the black of space and winking bright stars, Chao Gao lays a cold wet rag over his steamed red face. He winces as he kicks of his sandals and lowers his steaming smelly feet into a wooden wash basin full of cold water. As his feet soak in the cold fresh water, Chao Gao closes his eyes in relief and lights a pipe under his rag. But the minute his eyes close, he hears their voices and no longer feels at home. He misses his beloved wife and daughter and looks forward to the day that old age take him so he can be with them once again. Even though he longs for the day when he'll be reunited with his family, there was a certain joy to be had during today's service. Chao Gao had recognised the Emperor instantly in that long line of customers, but he doesn't know how. Maybe it was his humility, patience and kindness, after all he was allowing old men and women to jump the queue. Chao Gao felt a certain serenity and sense of pride in his presence. Usually when he's left alone with his thoughts, he feels a great lunge of guilt when he ponders upon his departed family. But today, he feels a certain honour to have not only served a meal to the greatest leader he has ever known, but rid him of those pests. It felt good beating those men, but not as good as slaying that dragon and mutilating those fifty murdering raiders, thinks Chao Gao whilst rubbing his knuckles.
A few days later at the edge of dawn, Yu-Huang awakes with a great stretch and a yawn underneath a bare branched tree. Wondering where his feet have taken him, he looks around and finds himself on the rolling sunny moors of the ‘Lǜsè de Shān (Green Hill)’ village. He strolls down a long country lane and raises his arms as a crowd of children rush by him laughing excitedly to race each other down the hill to be first in school. Realising he is within the schooling district of Shangren town, Yu-Huang decides to check on the standards of the students' learning and the teachers teaching. Walking unnoticed amongst the classroom as if he were a supply teacher, he observes the various methods of teachings and how the children respond to them. Yu-Huang goes about the classroom assisting knowledge hungry children in using the plates of sand and canes used to teach calligraphy and abacuses used for counting. He admires the tutor's strong penchant for dedication and patience, especially when a short few are misbehaving. Yu-Huang interferes as little as possible, even if he does notice areas of which can be improved upon; more specifically, discipline, a value of which Yu-Huang holds in high regard. Even though Yu-Huang's calming and friendly presence is welcome, his identity as an assistant fails to go completely unnoticed. During a beginner session of Wushu, a light hearted instructor playfully introduces the wide eyed children to one of the Eighteen Arms of Wushu.
“Children, which of the eighteen arms of Wushu shall we study today?” asks the young toned woman with a low hanging fringe and ponytail.
“Quiang! (Spear!)” shrieks an enthusiastic girl.
“No we studied Spear yesterday. Axe!” says a brutish, chubby boy with a pot bowl haircut.
“Tonfa!” shouts a buck-toothed skinny girl.
“Excellent choice, Chu-hua. Now I need one volunteer,” says the teacher.
In the open-air dojo, the teacher studies the excited and eager faces of each of her kneeling pupils, then smiles as she sees a familiar and famous face sitting apart from the group.
“You there, perhaps you would allow the children a brief demonstration?” says the instructor.
“I humbly express my gratitude, though I am merely here to observe, not to interfere with your class,” replies Yu-Huang, kindly.
; “Children please remind our visitor of the rules of this class,” orders the teacher, taking a set of Tonfu batons from the weapons rack.
“♪everyone takes part, for those that fail to partake in practice learn nothing, and there are absolutely no exceptions ♪” sing the children, in a military-style hymn sung in unison.
“What would our Great Emperor Yu-Huang say if he knew we have a guest that is unwilling to assist us with our training,” smiles the Wushu instructor with a cheeky smile.
“OOOOOOO00000oooooo” say the children uneasily, suggesting the visitor is already in deep trouble.
Yu-Huang humbly accepts the heckling then rises to his feet with a bashful smile. Executing a series of stretches and pulls, he then picks up his Tonfu batons from an assortment of wooden practice weapons.
“What name does my challenger go by?” asks Yu-Huang, before bowing to his opponent.
“My name is Shuang Jinfei, but you can call me Laoshi (Teacher),” says Laoshi, parting her legs and bending her knees.
“Very well, Laoshi,” says Yu-Huang, matching her attack position.
“Kāishǐ (begin),” say the pupils, all at once.
Laoshi strikes first in a salvo of twirling attacks as she moves quickly forward, and as Yu-Huang defends and counter attacks, the striking batons fills the ears with hard wooden cracks and bangs. Yu-Huang and Shuang Jinfei circle one another, then Yu-Huang closes in with a front kick followed by a low sweep, to which she avoids then somersaults over. Laoshi backflips onto her feet as Yu-Huang executes a follow up sweep, then she back hands Yu-Huang with a twirling baton that he blocks before twisting the weapon from her hand. Laoshi performs a roundhouse kick, which Yu-Huang blocks with the edge of his palm.