India and the Conundrum

Upon entering the hut, Ling Yinfei’s eyes were immediately drawn to a figure seated behind a table. He was a skinny man with a thin, intense face, and wispy white hair. One gnarled hand was visible, resting on a book on the table. His eyes, nested in a network of crow’s feet, flitted briefly over Ling Yinfei, then shifted to Dong Yao.

“Is she gone?” he asked in a dry tone. Ling Yinfei had the oddest impression that the man might have been made of over-dried clay, so fragile did he appear to be.

“She is.” Dong Yao flopped down on the high stool across from the man, while Zhen Huixin skipped away through an opening screened with a faded brown curtain. “She didn’t seem very impressed with my niece, but then that ex-wife of yours is always hard to please.”

Ling Yinfei moved unobtrusively to a corner of the hut, reflecting on how impolite it was to comment on someone else’s ex-wife so openly. No doubt he would see more breaches of etiquette if he was to stay in this hut - a bare place, with only the minimum of furniture, but big and commodious enough, judging by the look of it.

Dong Yao beckoned to him. “You, boy, what’s-your-face, come over here. There are four of us living in this place, including Huixin, but the third occupant of the house is currently away. This is Brother Bai Shi. Say hello to him.”

Ling Yinfei saluted with a little bow. “Uncle Bai.”

Bai Shi watched him expressionlessly before turning back to Dong Yao. “What are you bringing this child here for?” He had a curiously flat way of speaking, as though he was merely reciting what common sense enjoined him to say, while he himself held no genuine interest in his own question.

“I figure he might be a good companion for Huixin, for a few days at least,” Dong Yao said. Ling Yinfei’s heart leaped a little - did this mean he was to stay here for only a few days? Dong Yao continued, “In the meantime, we can teach him some martial arts, and you can lend your books for him to read.”

Bai Shi stared at Dong Yao, unblinking. He was about to say something when Zhen Huixin sailed back into the room, carrying two chipped bowls, one in each hand. “Here’s your breakfast,” she said to Ling Yinfei, winking as she raised one bowl higher than the other. “Uncles, do you mind if we eat outside?”

“No, it’s even better. Your Uncle Shi and I have things to discuss. Shoo.”

“Come on, Brother.” Without waiting for a reply, Zhen Huixin went out, and Ling Yinfei had no choice but to follow her.

It was a balmy day, without a hint of the cold weather ahead of them - a perfect autumn day. The two children sat down under the poplar tree. Ling Yinfei had never eaten without the benefit of a table before, and found this new experience strangely intriguing: he had to balance the bowl on his knee and keep it there while he ate, otherwise it would topple off. He had no idea why this was intriguing, but it was. While he munched on the meat dumplings - the only food in the bowls apart from lukewarm rice - he remembered his determination to speak his mind to the men in the hut. Perhaps he would do so later, when they called him in to discuss his future with him.

Then he realized that Zhen Huixin was staring at him with her customary grin. He laid down his chopsticks across the rim of the bowl, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Go on, I’m happy you enjoy it so much,” she said, nodding at his now half-empty bowl. “It means I’m a good cook.”

“Um.” Ling Yinfei glanced at the hut. “Have you lived with the uncles for very long? Where are your parents?”

Zhen Huixin tilted her head to one side. “I was just a baby when my parents died, so I don’t even remember what they were like. Uncle Dong said there was an epidemic in my family’s village. He took me away from the village to raise me here.” Her tone became more subdued, and she toyed with one of her own meat dumplings. “He’s always lived with the other two uncles, Uncle Bai and Uncle Qiu. They used to perform great and virtuous deeds during the Mongolian occupation, or so I gather, but they never talk about it much. They say the old days have got little to do with the present.”

“Great deeds? What kind of great deeds?”

“I’m not very clear on that, either - protecting helpless folks from Mongolian soldiers, helping drive the enemy back across the border, stuff like that.”

“But that was quite heroic - why would your uncles be ashamed?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, they wouldn’t tell me. Uncle Dong said I’m still too young to understand.” Her train of thought was taking another turn. “I’m sure the third uncle, Uncle Qiu, will return home shortly. You’re going to like him. He isn’t as dour as Uncle Bai, or as grumpy as Uncle Dong. Compared to them, he’s very affable.”

Reminded thus of his current predicament, Ling Yinfei felt a cloud of gloom sweep over him. “Do I have to stay here that long? My family will be worried about me. They will think I’ve been murdered or badly maimed.”

“But they won’t be worried anymore, when you return safe and sound. And wouldn’t they be glad if they see your martial arts have improved?”

“I’m not sure about that.” His father’s stern face flashed in front of him; Ling Tiepi might not be overjoyed to learn that his son had received martial arts training from other people without his permission. Ling Yinfei pushed the last clump of rice into his mouth. “Don’t you ever go someplace else? Do you stay in this valley all year long?”

“No, the uncles sometimes go to the nearest town. They like to take me along. Who knows, they may take you along too, the next time they go.”

Ling Yinfei pondered on this. He could try to escape while they were in a town - provided he had a chance to go there - but what then? He neither knew the direction to his house nor had the means to reach it. There was also no guarantee that he would not run afoul of bad weather along the way, or that he would not meet with people with dubious intentions. It was, he concluded, troublesome being a child in a world of knowledgeable adults.

A movement from the hut caught their attention; Dong Yao was poking his head out of the door. “Are you finished?” he said, addressing Ling Yinfei in particular. “Then get back in. Brother Shi and I have something to tell you.” His head disappeared back into the hut. The two children got up and went back inside.

Bai Shi was still sitting behind the table, and Dong Yao stood behind him. Ling Yinfei almost expected Zhen Huixin to join them, but she stood next to him instead.

“It’s going to be winter in little more than a month,” Bai Shi said without preamble, directing his gaze at Ling Yinfei. “Brother Yao and I don’t think a journey to anywhere is going to be very comfortable. So you are to stay here until the spring thaw, at least.”

Ling Yinfei stared down at the earthen floor. When he lifted his eyes, he said, “Thank you, uncles, for your hospitality.” He was proud to note that his voice only trembled at the beginning of the sentence.

“Naturally, there will be several conditions to your stay here. You must help Huixin with the household chores. You must do what I, Brother Yao and Brother Heitong say. There is to be no disobedience, no escape attempts, or anything of the kind. Do you understand?”

“Yes…”

“Good. Now come here and take a look at this.” Bai Shi opened the book on the table and tapped a claw-like finger on the page. “Do you know who wrote this? Can you recognize all the characters in it?”

Thus the morning passed with Ling Yinfei reading aloud and memorizing several lines of poetry. Bai Shi listened, interrupting only when Ling Yinfei stumbled on the characters. Limited though Ling Yinfei’s interest in literature was, he had to admit the poem he was studying was beautifully written, and Bai Shi explained it with such broad knowledge that he found himself actually enjoying the act of reading.

In the afternoon, Dong Yao took Ling Yinfei out of the hut and told him to run along the cliff that formed a wall around the field of grass. “I want to see how well you regulate your breathing,” he stated. “If you can breathe evenly and regularly, you’re not likely to get exhausted too soon, and that will also affect your blood circulation in a positive way. A sound, healthy system is the basic step toward mastering martial arts. Now move it.”

For the next few days, a routine was more or less established for Ling Yinfei: in the morning he studied literature with Bai Shi, and in the afternoon Dong Yao made him do various physical exercises. “You’re not learning any move or technique until you’ve got your body running smoothly and perfectly,” the old man declared.

Ling Yinfei’s spare time was spent doing the household chores with Zhen Huixin. When he asked her why the uncles were not teaching her anything - was it because she was a girl? - she waved her hand and said her turn would come. Ling Yinfei did not probe.

One morning he woke up to discover that Zhen Huixin was gone. Timidly he mentioned this to Bai Shi, who shrugged. “Chu Qingnian came last night and took Huixin with her.”

“Chu Qingnian?” Ling Yinfei asked, already knowing who it was.

“The woman you saw when you first arrived. Brother Yao and I thought it would be better to have a woman educate Huixin and teach her martial arts. Huixin may get the chance to see the outside world, as well. Enough of that - now read this stanza, and memorize it.”

“Yes, Uncle Bai.” Ling Yinfei felt a small twinge; Zhen Huixin was the person in the house with whom he could speak most comfortably, and now she had left. He dared not ask if she would return anytime soon, or if she would drop by from time to time; in any case it was not likely that the uncles knew what Chu Qingnian had in mind for her disciple. So he fixed his eyes on the stanza Bai Shi had pointed out to him and silently wished Zhen Huixin happiness and martial arts progress.

Months passed, and the temperature continued to drop, more drastically during some days than others. The occupants of the hut built a blazing fire at night, and watched as the field of grass was buried underneath a sheet of white. Dong Yao remarked that as soon as winter was behind them and the hibernating season was over, he would take Ling Yinfei hunting and show him how to skin, gut and roast animals.

To Ling Yinfei himself, the air smelled sharper, cleaner - it was somewhat unlike winter in his own house where it seemed your nostrils would be clogged with frost after spending ten minutes outdoors. He wondered if that had something to do with Dong Yao’s persistent training and emphasis on the fitness of the body.

The third uncle came home on the last day of the year. While the three of them were having dinner, and Dong Yao was saying that Ling Yinfei had the tendency to cut the meat in larger-than-necessary chunks, a tall, sturdy man entered, beaming at everyone.

“Brother Heitong,” said Bai Shi.

“Brother Shi, Brother Yao.” Qiu Heitong had a sheaf of gray hair above a wide, pleasant face. He stared at Ling Yinfei, who ducked his head respectfully. “Who is this? Did a fairy snatch off Huixin one night, and left this boy in her place?”

“Your jokes are still not funny, if jokes you intend them to be. Sit down and eat with us.”

After Dong Yao gave him a summary of how Ling Yinfei ended up living in the hut with them, Qiu Heitong clicked his tongue and gave Ling Yinfei a sympathetic glance. “So you’re being held prisoner here against your will. It can’t be much fun, living under the same roof as these cantankerous old geezers.”

“Brother Heitong here is different from us,” Bai Shi, not sounding very interested in his own words as usual, informed Ling Yinfei. “He’s very nice and friendly to anyone, from lost children to stray rabbits. He likes to travel, which is why he isn’t here often. I suppose if the weather is fair and sunny he wouldn’t even consider coming back here.”

“Of course I would want to be here - I miss Huixin’s cooking. Where is she, by the way?”

“She left with Chu Qingnian, to be her apprentice.”

“Oh! Hmm, well, Chu Qingnian would be an excellent teacher for Huixin, I’m sure.” Unlike Dong Yao, Qiu Heitong seemed a trifle embarrassed to be discussing Chu Qingnian. “Is that all that happened while I was away?”

“Yes. Do you have any interesting tales to tell yourself?”

“Let’s see. Remember that rumor we used to hear when we were still roaming wulin - about the Willow Sword?”

Dong Yao grunted. “Conjurations of idle minds, nothing more. Legends of mysterious, powerful weapons have always been some of the more engrossing tales out there, even if those weapons may not actually exist.”

Qiu Heitong dismissed this skepticism. “Four or five years ago I heard that the only clue to the sword’s whereabouts was in the possession of a certain family, who passed it down from generation to generation. No one was sure which family this was, or where they lived, but there was indeed such a family. Anyway, I’ve recently heard a new rumor about the sword - Guang Zhanxiong, leader of the Five Swords Sect, is said to have stumbled onto the trail of this precious clue, and to have hunted it down. He has even located the mysterious family, but they managed to hide the clue and put it in a safe place at the last minute. I assume the clue must be in the form of a tangible object. Guang Zhanxiong was so furious he killed everybody in the family, including the servants and children, and burned down their house. Someone else said that he just burned down the house after everyone in it had fled.”

Having lived with Dong Yao and Bai Shi for some time, Ling Yinfei knew better than to exclaim over the awfulness of the incident in front of them. “What is this Willow Sword, Uncle Qiu?”

“That’s right, you’re too young to even know about it.” Qiu Heitong made a half-circle in the air with his chopsticks and assumed the pose of a professional storyteller. “The legend of the Willow Sword has been circulating in wulin since all three of us were young. The legend says that the sword is made from the wood of a rare willow tree which grew on a remote island on the eastern sea. The wood from this tree is a hundred times harder than iron, and the sword cuts far more sharply than any sword made of metal can.”

“Told you it was nonsense,” Dong Yao said to Ling Yinfei.

“Is that all that makes the sword special?” Ling Yinfei asked.

“Guess so,” said Qiu Heitong, scratching his armpit absently. “And as far as I know nobody has been searching for the sword as hard as Guang Zhanxiong - or has gone so far as to kill innocent bystanders. Either there is more to the sword than its physical strength alone, or he’s been listening to the wrong stories. But enough of that - where’s the wine?”

As winter wore on, both Dong Yao and Bai Shi intensified rather than scaled back their respective lessons for Ling Yinfei. Bai Shi was wont to ask Ling Yinfei to recite lines they studied weeks ago at the drop of a hat. Dong Yao kept Ling Yinfei outdoors in the muscle-numbing weather more often. Once he told the boy to scale the cliff. Every time Ling Yinfei fell tumbling down, Dong Yao simply told him to try again. When he eventually succeeded in running up the height of the cliff for ten steps or so, after trying all day, Ling Yinfei was a little surprised when Dong Yao gave him a cuff on the shoulder. “Not bad. Next time we will work on your speed and how to direct your motions effectively. Winter is the best season to practice that, since the air is heavier.”

Qiu Heitong watched all this from a distance, seeming to enjoy what he saw. Ling Yinfei frequently noticed him going to the waterfall, which was literally frozen these days. He wondered if Qiu Heitong went there to practice his own martial arts, but knew better manners than to take a peek.

Spring thaw merged so flawlessly with the increase in temperature that Ling Yinfei barely recognized the change of season when it arrived. The air now carried with it a whiff of earth that he always associated with family gatherings and expectations of boating trips in the moonlight. He wondered whether his family missed him as he missed them.

One night Dong Yao talked about going to town. “Yinfei can come with me,” he said, ignoring the boy’s suddenly wide, shining eyes. “I might also try my luck at the usual gambling parlor.”

“You mean you don’t owe them even a single piece of silver, after all this time?” Qiu Heitong said with a grin.

“They owe me, if anything. Now, Yinfei, you will behave, won’t you? No dashing off to freedom or similar stunts?”

“Yes, Uncle Dong.”

“Well, we’ll see. You’ll probably think differently once we get there.”

They left rather late the next day, after Ling Yinfei finished his daily lesson with Bai Shi. As they came out from behind the waterfall, Dong Yao said that he would leave Ling Yinfei in his favorite restaurant while he went to the gambling parlor.

“Go straight to the parlor after you’re finished with your meal. I can usually be found at the second table on the left. Don’t wander around, don’t speak to anyone you don’t know. Understand?”

Ling Yinfei bobbed his head, bubbling with too much excitement to speak. He had been longing to get away from the hut since winter set in, and in a place as busy as a town it was not impossible that he would run into some employees from his family’s escort and delivery service. If that happened, he could have them deliver a message that he was safe and sound. Buoyed up by this thought, he fell into step next to Dong Yao, who ordered him to hurry up, had all his lessons in physical exercise been for nothing?

Reaching the town took about thirty minutes’ walk from the waterfall. The town was not very big, but was a bustling one for all that – crowding the streets were sellers, housewives, idlers, children, soothsayers, even a horse rider, whose chestnut-brown beast ambled along at a leisurely, almost somnolent, pace. Ling Yinfei followed Dong Yao through the throng and the noise, eyeing a candy seller with vague longing. He would never dream of asking Dong Yao to buy him some candies - in fact, he doubted that Dong Yao would have bought one even for Zhen Huixin.

They arrived at what Dong Yao had called his favorite restaurant, which turned out to be little more than a wayside tea stall, since it only consisted of three sets of tables and benches, plus the makeshift kitchen. The owner, a pockmarked man who was about Dong Yao’s age, greeted them in a playfully oily manner. He and Dong Yao exchanged good-natured insults before Dong Yao deposited Ling Yinfei at one of the tables.

“This sorry excuse for a restaurant serves the tastiest noodles in the whole province – but feel free to inform me otherwise. After you’ve finished eating, go to the parlor and look for me, hear? It’s that building over there, the one with the red banner at the door. We’ll come back here later to pay for what you eat, although I don’t think the boss deserves it. Be a good boy, now.”

After Dong Yao left, Ling Yinfei looked around, wanting to see if there were any street singers passing by. He had always liked listening to street singers – the songs they sang generally told absorbing tales or were retellings of current events. Spotting none, he sank back into his seat.

Two men clad in dusty traveling cloaks came and sat down at the adjacent table. One of them was younger than his companion and dressed a little more elaborately. The older man was taller and had rough, sunburned features. When the stall owner came to ask for their order, it was the older traveler who spoke.

After the stall owner left the two men, the older traveler sighed and said to his younger companion, “What am I going to tell your sister? She is going to be sad when she hears the news.”

“Brother-in-law, please pardon me for what might be an impudent question, but what have the people from the Ling escort and delivery service done for you in the past?”

Ling Yinfei, who was starting to nod off in the gentle breeze, froze. The Ling escort and delivery service? Were they talking about his family? He straightened up slowly, ears straining,

“They did me a favor fifteen years ago,” the older man said. “A few weeks before your sister and I were about to get married, we had a quarrel. She became furious with me and fled to your father’s house. You know how stubborn she could get, although she is usually an even-tempered person. I regretted my hotheadedness and tried to apologize, but no matter how many letters I wrote her, she refused to see me. Finally I bought a hand mirror that I knew she would find lovely. I asked the Ling escort and delivery service to bring it to her. Your sister barred the door and told them to send the mirror back to me. They said, ‘Please, Mistress, you must accept this gift. If we came back without seeing you, our customer, Master Tian Yunsheng, said he wouldn’t pay us. So please accept it.’ Finally she relented. I went to see her and she almost hit me in earnest for employing such a trick, but we made up and the wedding took place.”

The younger man gave a soft laugh. “I never heard that story before! But yes, I know that she used to be capable of holding a grudge. She is more patient and forgiving these days.”

Tian Yunsheng smiled. “The trick wouldn’t have worked if the Ling escort and delivery service hadn’t cooperated. The head of the Ling family, Ling Tiepi, said that indulging a woman’s anger is a toweringly silly thing to do, but he was willing enough to help me.” He grew sober. “Now, after all these years, I wanted to go there and express my thanks, as your sister and I are now happily married. Who would have guessed…”

Who would have guessed what? Ling Yinfei fidgeted at his bench. If the men were not going to elucidate their story, he would have to walk up to them and beg them to do so. Dong Yao would be very annoyed with him, but this was his family, his own people.

“According to certain rumors, the Ling house is where the clue to the Willow Sword had been kept for generations,” said the younger man.

“Yes, that’s what I heard too. Guang Zhanxiong’s search yielded no definite clues, so he killed everyone in the Ling house and then had it burned down.” Tian Yunsheng shook his head. “The Five Swords Sect has always been a suspicious bunch, but nobody suspected they would ever go this far. The wulin society was shocked to hear that Guang Zhanxiong would stoop to such a base act…”

There was a muted clang. Both men turned around, and saw Ling Yinfei clutching at the edge of his table, trying not to faint. He had inadvertently knocked down one of the cups, which had caused the sound.

“Little brother, are you all right?” Tian’s brother-in-law asked with concern.

“I’m all right.” Still holding on to the table for support, Ling Yinfei fought to get to his feet. He whispered to the stall owner that he was going to the gambling parlor to see Dong Yao. The owner said he would send someone with Ling Yinfei’s order over there. Thanking him, Ling Yinfei stumbled away, ignoring the curious stares behind his back. His mouth had gone papery and his stomach lurched with every step.

He recalled what Qiu Heitong had explained about the family who held the sole clue to the legendary Willow Sword, and how they had been exterminated. But how was he supposed to have guessed that it had been his family? He had never even heard of the Willow Sword until Qiu Heitong mentioned it. Had the person called Guang Zhanxiong been mistaken, then?

The sight of the street doubled with his sudden tears. He pressed his sleeve fiercely against his eyes, but his shoulders heaved nonetheless, and his breath came in painful gasps. He could only hope that no one would stop him and ask why he was crying - let them suspect it was over scraped knees or lost playground battles. He staggered on, eyes swelling, throat closing. The grief would not be spent today, he knew; more tears would be coming, and they would fall when he was least prepared.

My brother, he thought. My father, my stepmother and her baby daughter. My house.

He reached the gambling parlor and, having located Dong Yao, who was counting his winnings, stood mutely next to him. Dong Yao said nothing and kept counting the money aloud - and yet Ling Yinfei sensed the old man had noticed his red-rimmed eyes, although he stood with his head bowed. A servant from the restaurant arrived with Ling Yinfei’s order, and he ate listlessly, not tasting it. Eventually Dong Yao signaled to Ling Yinfei that it was time to go. They walked all the way home in silence.

Two nights later, as Ling Yinfei was preparing himself for bed, Bai Shi called him and asked him to go to the dining room. When Ling Yinfei got there, Bai Shi had taken a seat in front of the dining table. Dong Yao and Qiu Heitong flanked him on each side.

“Yinfei, kneel down,” Qiu Heitong said.

“Yes, Uncle.” Ling Yinfei wondered what occasion this was, that the usually jolly Qiu Heitong had grown solemn. Then he saw the teapot and three cups on the table, and his heart beat faster.

Bai Shi spoke. “The three of us - Bai Shi, Dong Yao and Qiu Heitong - hereby state that as of today Ling Yinfei is officially a disciple of ours, and we are officially his masters. He will obey us like a disciple must, and honor us like a disciple should. In turn, we hereby swear to teach him what we know to the best of our ability, be it martial arts, literature, or any other knowledge that we are able to hand down to a disciple. So it is and so it shall be, and may Heaven and Earth bear witness to this oath.”

“By convention someone should only have one teacher at a time,” Dong Yao said, “but we’re not going to bother with such trivialities.”

Ling Yinfei was speechless. The three men were looking at him, their faces devoid of emotion. Hurriedly Ling Yinfei dropped to his knees and kowtowed three times. “Thank you, uncles. Thank you for accepting me as your disciple.”

“Get up, and pour us some tea.”

Bai Shi was to be First Master, Dong Yao Second, and Qiu Heitong Third. Ling Yinfei served each of them a cup of tea, inwardly regretting that he had not boiled some water earlier - cold tea seemed absurdly insipid for such a momentous night. The men each took a sip, and nodded when he addressed them respectfully by their new titles.

After the brief ceremony was over, Dong Yao said, “Yinfei, do you know why we are suddenly accepting you as our disciple?”

“Because - I’m from the family that was finished off for keeping the only clue to the Willow Sword?”

Qiu Heitong nodded thoughtfully. “Although I’ve heard about how you got here, it didn’t occur to me until much later to make the connection between you and the family that supposedly kept the clue to the Willow Sword. It must have been because Ling is rather a common surname. Then, a couple of days ago, Brother Yao told me that when you two went to town, you suddenly looked all glum and dejected and wouldn’t say a word about what happened. We figured that you had somehow learned of the fate of your family.”

“However,” Bai Shi continued, “you must also know that pity is not the sole reason why we decided to be your masters. You have lived in this house for the past several months, and we know you well enough to understand that you deserve our trust.”

Ling Yinfei took a step back and made a deep bow. “Masters have been terribly kind to me. I promise I will not be a disappointment to you all.”

That night, for the first time since he had learned of what had happened to his family, he did not dream of cinder and crumbling rooms; and yet, shortly before dawn, he still woke up to a sense of uneasiness.

To be continued