NOVEL SIMPLE 18 – Training montage
In a forest in the south of Sek'syun, deeply shaded by cork oak and dzeui leut1錐栗 (dzeui1 leut6) – a type of tree, genus Castanopsis., a man was hanging upside-down in a tree.
The hunters who owned the trap in which he was caught stared up at him.
A young man, in cultivator robes, with a jade-hilted sword?
“Great Jade Exorcist! We'll get you down straight away!”
“... Don't.”
Uh, what did you say?
“I'm fishing.”
… What did you say?
“Um... Very well, Great Master...” The hunters wandered away, trying to hide their expressions. Who understood how the minds of great cultivators worked?
Gaam Yuk Ying, upside down three metres from the ground, crossed his arms.
And waited.
His silvery eyes scanned the vegetation ceaselessly, although he seemed half-asleep with his lids almost closed. Shapes sprang up with great clarity – thrumming dragonflies skimming over small pools of water on the forest floor, the slow, deliberate slink of a tree viper in a tree ten metres away, a flurry of wings from a male redstart by the edge of the forest.
Other than the retreating hunters, there was no sign of any other human life.
After another hour of nothing Gaam Yuk Ying cut himself free with a single careless swing of Lo Fu Ngaa and twisted to land feet-first on the forest floor.
Hm. Next location.
He headed north, finding the Jade Road and opting to race through the vegetation beside it, keeping out of sight of any travellers on the road itself. His eyes caught the details of every person he passed.
Nothing.
Reaching Mount Faa, he followed the side trail off the Jade Road up the mountain, covering the steep distance with effortless leaps. However, he chose not to go inside, instead circling the schools from the surrounding mountain.
The disciples were faithfully following their routines, although the Way of the Mountain School was looking a little slacker than usual. They would probably face an irate Wong Tang when she returned.
Surprisingly, the Clear Sight School was hard at work too. Rather than the Fire Master Jing Fo's usual practice of throwing some unclear instructions at his disciples and telling them to get on with it, he was standing and watching them as they did they morning practices. It seemed to Gaam Yuk Ying that he even looked a little nervous.
Ah.
A familiar aura tickled the edge of his senses as he drew close to the Reflective Arts School. He hopped down amongst the surprised disciples, midway through the eight steps of the Flashing Sword, and proceeded directly into the Master's quarters, which had long been empty. Gaam Bing frowned at him over a pair of spectacles. It was quite a sight, seeing how the big man made everything in the room – the table, the papers in his hands, the writing brush – seem tiny.
“... Yuk Ying.”
“... Master.”
“Well?”
“Teem Djeung Baak cannot be found.”
“I see. She hasn't been near here.”
“I though not. The other...”
“Dzap Ming is here too.”
“I will look elsewhere then.”
“Go on.”
“Yes, Master.”
He bowed and turned.
“Stay safe,” Gaam Bing growled. “Keep... an eye on your friends and your lover boy until they get strong enough.”
Gaam Yuk Ying turned. His Master had his head in the papers as if he hadn't said anything.
“Thank you, Master.”
He left. Gaam Bing scratched his head, cleared his throat and shuffled the papers unnecessarily. He could distinctly hear his disciple whispering something to the Reflective Arts disciples outside.
“The Fire Master. His name is Ying Fo.”
“Ying Fo... as in... a firefly light?”
“Mm.”
And then even that whisper was gone. All that remained were the excited whispers of the disciples and the occasional muffled giggle.
Gaam Bing had to suppress his own snort. The Fire Master's cute little name was sure to be all over the mountain by dinnertime.
Cheng Baak-hap sighed quietly and rubbed her eyes. She sneaked a glance at Maan Dzi King, but the woman did not look up from her papers.
“Master?”
“Cheng Baak-hap?”
“”Would it be possible to take a break?”
“You must build your stamina.”
“I understand, Master, however-”
“No 'however'. Continue.” Maan Dzi King didn't look up once. Cheng Baak-hap looked down at the papers again.
The planned route to Dzue. Letters to be delivered to the rulers of Cheun and Sek'syun, requesting a meeting. Lord Gaam Bing's attempts to translate the demonic script. A list of the equipment and supplies needed for the trip. Messages to Mount Faa and the palace of Tin Yeung Wong.
“Would you rather begin learning Water arts?”
“That... I would like that, Master.”
Maan Dzi King put down the papers she held and swept to the door. “This way.”
Cheng Baak-hap followed the other woman to one of the underground caverns. They sat opposite each other on the ground.
“So, you've been fooling around with Earth practices without cultivating your Water attribute. Do you know anything about the practice that humans call the Still Heart Way?”
“Sam yue dzi seoi2心如止水 (sam1 yue4 dzi2 seoi2) – A heart as calm as still water., 'a heart as calm as still water' is the guiding principle. Beyond this, I cannot say, Master.”
“So next to nothing. Do you understand what the principle means?”
“That one should seek to calm their heart and mind in the manner of still water.”
“Water is always in flow. Vapour turns to liquid water then to ice, and back again. The water that you drank with your tea this morning once flowed through a river in Wong and rained down upon Cheun.
“And so, in order to begin your training with the Water element, you must meditate on this quandary. Why is the guiding principle sam yue dzi seui when neither water nor the heart is still? I will be returning to our preparations.”
With that, Maan Dzi King swept out.
Cheng Baak-hap stared after her. She was not really concerned with the question that the loong had left for her. At least, not that one. She knew the answer already. She could feel a new energy awakening in her lower daan-tin, cool and flowing, meeting the strong Earth energy that already resided there.
No, there was another question that she found herself meditating upon.
For a divine being of the Water element, why was Maan Dzi King's heart and mind so clearly full of unrest?
Gou Dzing gingerly felt his ribs and sat up.
“Master?”
“Hm?”
“Why have I still not broken into the Third Daan-tin?”
They had been training for several days now, and although he could feel his mastery over his second daan-tin solidifying, Gou Dzing had still not yet tipped over into his upper daan-tin. Hei circled strongly around his middle daan-tin, simmering on the edge of becoming san3神 (san4) – can be translated as 'spirit'. In terms of cultivation, san is created in the middle daan-tin through processing of hei, and rises to the upper daan-tin., threatening to creep up along his meridians to the third daan-tin, but something was holding them back. He looked askance at his master.
Wong Tang blew smoke rings into the air pensively. Unlike the sweaty and exhausted-looking Gou Dzing, not one of her hairs was out of place.
“Little Gou.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You still appear to be lacking in understanding of the Fool's Way of the Mountain. I suppose it is understandable. There is so much focus on the martial aspects of our practices that we forget that... well, a Way is not simply about fighting. It is how we live our lives, how we relate to others. How we fight, yes, but also, how we heal.”
Gou Dzing slowly moved his sore body into a cross-legged position.
“When you were younger, you used to like spending time with Dzik Suet Yi-sang, I remember.”
“That's true. I really liked learning how to treat patients. He taught me a lot of useful first aid.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Because... it felt like I was falling behind on my martial skills.”
“And now?”
“... I didn't really think about it.”
“Think about it now then.” The Grandmaster unfolded herself and stretched. “I'll come back tomorrow and hear what you have to say about it. Talk to others, if you want.”
Gou Dzing wandered from the cavern all the way to the entrance of the tea house and stood blinking in the daylight. He looked for the others on his way up; Cheng Baak-hap was up to her elbows in paperwork with Maan Dzi King, and there was no sign of Gaam Yuk Ying or Chan Bik.
Without anything else to do, he decided to find a spot to overlook the city. There was a rudimentary lookout platform at the top of the limestone cliffs, and he hopped from ledge to ledge until he was at the top.
Yuk-hoi sparkled below him, and the ocean sparkled beyond that. Small boats wound their way between the white limestone pillars rising from the bright blue water. The wooden docks were busy with merchants, fisherpeople, tradespeople, calling out to each other through the sunlight.
“It's pretty, isn't it, Yuk Ying?” Gou Dzing said aloud, although he knew that no one would hear him. Somewhere to the south, gashes in the fabric of space opened into a world where there was no bright blue water, where there was no sunlight, no lively trade or peaceful seaside town. Somehow, it hurt to think about.
“Why did I stop looking to heal people?” He spoke aloud again, and the words seemed to hang above him. A bird of prey circling overhead let out a screech as it glided away over the harbour.
Behind him, a vast field of silvery-gold grass rippled with the sea breeze. He could feel that the soil here was shallow, lying atop the limestone cliffs, but with the grasses holding it tight, the earth held the promise of future harvests, or woodlands, or forests.
It seemed like a nice place to settle, to live out a peaceful life.
Gou Dzing looked at the scars and calluses on his hands. These hands once held herbs and mixed elixirs. These hands once lay on an injured limb as Dzik Suet Yi-sang had directed, “The Earth turns, winter becomes spring, death returns to life. Hold these thoughts in your mind as you direct your dzing4精 (dzing1) – can be translated as 'essence'. All living things are born with dzing, and gather more throughout their life through the food they eat and air they breathe. When a living thing runs out of dzing, they die. into your hands.”
“Huh? Dzik Suet Yi-sang, that's...”
The doctor had caught the cheeky grin on the child's face and smacked his leg. “Gou Dzing! How old are you? Who the hell is teaching you things like that?5精 (dzing1) can also be translated as 'semen'... Baby Gou Dzing is being a cheeky little pre-teen brat.”
“No one! No one, Yi-sang!” Gou Dzing tried to dodge the smacks unsuccessfully.
Dzik Suet Yi-sang groaned. “Gods, he's reached that annoying age... Concentrate! Chiu Fun6朝歡 (chiu4 fun1) – 'Morning' and 'Joy' or 'Lover'., don't you start laughing too!”
The injured party, the boy Chiu Fun, gave him the same grin as Gou Dzing's. “Of course not, Yi-sang!”
The long-suffering doctor breathed deeply. “Gou Dzing, do you want to help your friend or not?”
“Yes, Yi-sang.”
“Then concentrate. Winter to spring. Try it.”
Gou Dzing settled into concentration, despite Chiu Fun's smothered laughter. Winter to spring. The bare earth and little sprouts. Sowing the seeds and watching the plants emerge.
Chiu Fun made a sound of surprise as his bleeding leg healed. “Wow, Dzing! You did it!”
Gou Dzing breathed out and wiped his forehead. He was surprised by how tired he was.
“Impressive. Good work, disciple. Now maybe when you're raising trouble you'll be able to heal yourself.”
And he did, when he scraped his knees chasing Chiu Fun around the mountain, or when Chiu Fun had fallen from a tree while picking chestnuts, a sharp crack indicating a broken arm. As they grew older, the need for healing such small injuries grew less and less, and one day, they stopped.
“I'm getting married, Dzing.”
“... Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Why not?”
“You...”
“It was fun. I don't think I'm suited for this kind of life, though. Good luck, Dzing. Come visit me some time.”
Gou Dzing hadn't visited. Sitting on the cliff above Yuk-hoi, he thought, for the first time, that maybe he should. Chiu Fun had a little daughter now. It would be funny to see Yuk Ying try to deal with a small child.
Winter into spring. An end becomes a beginning.
He sat cross-legged and closed his eyes, the hei in his middle daan-tin eagerly boiling. The first wisps of san began to form.
Like healing a wound, like planting a seed. Anchoring into the rock of his lowest daan-tin, he felt the energy rise.
It hurt.
Gods, it hurt.
Tears ran down his cheeks and he gritted his teeth.
It hurt, back then and now.
He had to sit in the pain, until it was all transformed. The pain burned his meridians, his throat, his chest.
He wanted to fight it, but that would only make it worse. Plants don't fight their way out of the soil in spring.
He wanted to hide from it, but in spite of the jaws of the rabbit and the caterpillar, plants still grow.
One day he would hurt again, maybe even more.
“I accept it.”
Very well.
A stream of pure san flowed in his upper daan-tin, shining gold. He opened his eyes to find them still full of tears.