074. Learning the Craft and Other Matters 2

Li Xi responded, “Disciple’s surname is Yang, given name Zan, courtesy name Invincible, a native of Wannian in Chang’an. My parents have both passed away, and only my grandmother remains at home. I am seventeen this year, hold the title of Lord of Pingshan, and serve as an adjutant in Shaozhou. I desire to master the martial arts, to serve my sovereign and protect the realm above, and bring peace to the common people below. I have long admired Master’s great reputation, and so I have come to seek instruction at your feet.”

Xiumao said, “So you are an official. What rank do you hold?”

Li Xi replied, “Ninth rank, subordinate grade.”

Xiumao said, “So just a minor official then. What is your monthly stipend?”

Li Xi said, “Fifteen strings of cash per month, with miscellaneous additions bringing the total to about thirty strings.”

Xiumao nodded, muttering, “Thirty strings, that should be enough for one person. Do you have a wife?”

Li Xi answered, “No children yet, but I have one wife and one concubine.”

Xiumao’s brow furrowed, a strange gleam in her eyes. “So your days must be rather tight, then.”

Priestess Wuchen interjected, “Hey, didn’t you hear he holds a title? At such a young age, that must mean he’s from an established family. His ancestors must have left him something. With only one wife and one concubine, how much can he possibly spend? I doubt life is all that tight.”

Xiumao blinked at Li Xi, inquiring with her gaze.

Li Xi replied, “To be honest, although my ancestors left little wealth, life is still comfortable enough. I came in haste this time, bringing only three hundred strings as a token of respect—please, Sister, accept it as a humble gesture.”

Xiumao’s eyes shone with delight, and she laughed. “Little brother, you must think me worldly for asking, but only those who manage a household know the price of firewood and rice. Our Supreme Palace of the Mysterious Heavens is a pure sect—we have little income, and the disciples are lazy and unwilling to farm. Though there are only five of us, every necessity—rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, and tea—costs money. Life is hard for me, too.”

As she spoke, her eyes reddened and tears glittered. Li Xi thought to himself that without a little generosity, he would not pass this gate. This old priestess knows her way around, and this junior sister is so charming—I must play the fool this time.

Hardening his heart, he said, “Sister, you have truly labored these years, working day and night, yet you look as young as a girl in her teens though you are forty. From now on, we are one family—what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours remains yours. A disciple supporting his master is only right and proper; it is my duty. May I ask, Sister, what are the monthly expenses on the mountain?”

Xiumao thought for a moment, spread her fingers, and said, “Five strings.”

Li Xi secretly let out a sigh of relief and patted his chest. “From now on, I will cover all the expenses on the mountain.”

Xiumao was overjoyed, quickly wiping her tears and calling out, “Hurry, hurry, make your obeisance to Master—three kneelings and nine prostrations!”

Li Xi straightened his robe and was about to bow when she stopped him. “Wait a moment.” Li Xi almost wrenched his back in surprise. Xiumao smiled awkwardly and asked Priestess Wuchen, “Master, don’t you have more to ask him?”

Priestess Wuchen rolled her eyes. “No, you’ve asked everything already.”

Xiumao flushed, then beckoned Li Xi once more. “Go ahead and pay your respects.”

Li Xi, seeing they would not stop him again, arranged his attire and bowed with utmost reverence.

With the ceremony complete, Priestess Wuchen granted him three days’ leave to settle his affairs in the world below, instructing him to return afterward to begin his cultivation. Considering he still had mundane matters to attend to, she allowed that once he had laid a foundation, he could cultivate at home, returning to the mountain once a month for lessons and to have his progress inspected.

For now, however, she required him to remain on the mountain for a full year of training. Li Xi asked if, due to his busyness, the period might be shortened; Priestess Wuchen refused. He then suggested she might stay in town to instruct him; she declined. He finally proposed stretching the year’s training over three years, coming for ten days each month; she waved him off, saying, “Even street performers must train with their masters for three to five years before being released. How could the profound arts of our sect require less? You think I’m only here for your five strings of silver each month?”

With that, she rose and, before Li Xi’s eyes, leaped from the hundred-foot-high Eagle’s Head. Her figure drifted and glided like a great bird, and in moments she landed by the Emerald Lake, scooped up a handful of water to wash her face, picked up a couple of the gifts Li Xi had brought, and then, her robe billowing, floated up the sheer cliff to the summit.

Without so much as a glance at Li Xi, she entered her cottage. Li Xi rushed to the door, fell to his knees, and trembling, called, “Master, your disciple obeys.”

…

In the mountains, time passes without trace, while in the world, a thousand years may go by.

When Li Xi returned to Shaozhou City, it was the hottest season of the year. He slipped home in secret while Priestess Wuchen was away visiting guests, set to return in three days. Li Xi pleaded with Senior Sister Xiumao to let him go home, and, unable to withstand his entreaties, she sent him down the mountain on the pretext of buying salt, rice, and soy sauce, giving him a day’s leave. Li Xi had no time to change, and ran all the way home in his tattered Daoist robe.

The new house was not yet finished, so the Yang family still resided in their rented two-courtyard old dwelling. The afternoon sun blazed white, the heat making it hard to breathe. Mu Yaxin lay sleepless on a cool bamboo couch, tossing and turning, while Huahua the dog sprawled beneath, tongue lolling, equally restless.

The door opened, letting a wave of hot air into the room. Mu Yaxin started; since Li Xi had gone up the mountain, no one had entered her room so unceremoniously. She turned over, not yet seeing who it was, before being enveloped by a wave of heat—the newcomer pressed down upon her, his chest broad as a wall, his strong arms coiling about her like pythons, holding her fast.

“A robbery! Where does the family keep its gold and jewels?”

The words were in the Shaozhou dialect, the voice hoarse and forceful.

“There’s no money, but there is a person here—will you take her?”

Mu Yaxin struggled under the weight, panting as she spoke. No matter how he disguised himself, how could he fool her?

Li Xi gave up the pretense, cradled her face, and kissed her over and over, until her eyes were sultry, her teeth clamped on her lips, her body tense as steel. Unable to restrain himself, he stripped her in a few swift motions, forgetting all the little punishments he’d devised for her on the road. He pulled off her short robe, parted her legs, and pressed inside.

A sharp cry startled Cui Yingying from her midday nap. She leapt up, fixed her hair, snatched the dagger from under her pillow and slipped out. The dagger had been left by Li Xi before he went up the mountain, telling her that as the summer was hot, she should eat more fruit, the knife for peeling it. Cui Yingying, however, had her own understanding—she kept the fruit knife by her side at all times, for self-defense or, if need be, for ending her own life.

Under the west wing’s porch, Ru Hua and Si Yu each gripped a wooden club, listening anxiously to the strange noises coming from the east wing. The bamboo couch creaked alarmingly, and there were sounds as if from a nightmare—mostly muffled, sometimes joyous.

Huahua the dog squatted in the walkway, head cocked, whining softly, a look of astonishment on its face.

The shock on Cui Yingying’s face gradually gave way to a smile. Silently, she put away the dagger and, with a hint of melancholy, told Ru Hua and Si Yu, “The master has returned. Heat some water for his bath.”

She turned back to her room, the bamboo curtain falling behind her. Everything was as if nothing had happened.

Li Xi stayed home for a day and a night. Li Shisan sent two bamboo couches to the inner quarters, but Li Xi, finding it awkward, later had all the couches replaced, saying the old ones had splinters.

That night, Li Xi made time to visit the barracks north of the city. In the half-year since his last visit, the camp was utterly transformed; from a distance, it seemed shrouded in a red haze. It was high summer, so most of the local soldiers were home farming, yet the training ground still rang with the sounds of drill. The guards at the gate recognized Li Xi as the true overseer, and accompanied him on a tour of the camp, providing detailed explanations whenever he had questions.

The camp had nearly doubled in size since Li Xi left for the mountain, mainly by expanding the training grounds. In addition to the parade ground, they had dug a pond, two ditches, built a stretch of earthen wall, and constructed several watchtowers. The gatekeeper explained that the new pond and ditches were for training; the south is full of water, and most of the local soldiers are adept at swimming, but there is a world of difference between swimming and fighting in water. Though the pond was small, it served well enough for batch training.

What puzzled Li Xi was that Zhu Kerong, a great general of Youzhou, attached such importance to water combat. Was there so much water in Youzhou?

The section of earthen wall was a mock city wall for training. It was three feet higher than the walls of Shaozhou itself, though still slender compared to the massive walls and deep moats of the northwest garrisons. But for training the local soldiers it sufficed—most county walls in Lingnan, apart from Guangzhou, were not tall, and local troops were for defending the countryside, not assaulting cities like field armies.

According to the old gatekeeper, Zhu Kerong training them in siege tactics was like teaching a butcher’s trade to a scholar.

On the field were thirty-some men training, including Zhu Kerong’s twelve sworn brothers and about twenty newcomers of varying size. The old gatekeeper explained these twenty-three men were the remnants left behind when the Shaozhou garrison was withdrawn—most were formerly fishermen forced into piracy by hardship, all skilled in water combat, which is why Zhu Kerong took them in.

The old man spoke with admiration, “Director Zhu is truly remarkable. When these men arrived, they were all sickly; I said myself they were a useless bunch. But look now—just half a year, and they’re as strong as dragons and tigers. Not long ago, a few of our local lads, big and burly, tried to bully them, and they threw seven or eight of ours onto the ground. Our men were convinced at once. But even though they’re tough, they’re no match for Director Zhu’s twelve sworn brothers—those Youzhou fellows are astonishing. Each one is strong as iron, fearless, and can throw a dozen of our locals barehanded. With weapons, one could herd seventy or eighty men like ducks, without breaking a sweat.”

Li Xi nearly told the old man that he had no idea—these twelve were famed as the Twelve Riders of Yan and Zhao even in Youzhou, not men to be compared with the ordinary. Among the fierce warriors of Hebei, they had few equals—how much more so in Lingnan’s Shaozhou, which had not seen war in decades?