India and the Conundrum

As Zhen Huixin left the small town - and most of her annoyance at the offensively ostentatious young master - behind, the idea of going home to the uncles appealed less and less to her. It was true that they would not turn her away, and that her stay would not be unpleasant. On the other hand, neither would they lift a finger when Chu Qingnian came to reclaim her. This was due to the fact that, while the uncles did not mind having her around, they also believed that she was entitled to both good a martial arts education and a good upbringing by a female adult.

“You’ll be as safe with her as you would be with us,” Dong Yao had said on the night Chu Qingnian was to come and fetch Zhen Huixin. “You will also see much more of the world than you would if you never left the Frozen Plums Waterfall.”

“Is she a nice person? Will she hit me?” Zhen Huixin had met Chu Qingnian only once, on the day of Ling Yinfei’s arrival at the waterfall, and her impression of the lady was not altogether favorable.

“Children need to be disciplined from time to time, since you’re all so naughty. But you can report to me later if she hits you too often.”

Chu Qingnian, Zhen Huixin gradually discovered, was just as strict as Bai Shi and Dong Yao, but she was also more attentive. She chided Zhen Huixin for making mistakes, but at the same time tirelessly encouraged her not to repeat them and to do better next time. Another difference between Chu Qingnian and the uncles concerned the uncles’ stance toward Zhen Huixin’s personal appearance. They had never batted an eyelash when she came home sprinkled with mud or with tufts of grass sticking out of her hair; Chu Qingnian demanded that she always present a neat, pretty appearance, no matter the circumstances.

“Do girls absolutely have to look pretty?” Zhen Huixin asked. Dong Yao had never alluded to this side of being a young female; he had merely ordered her to keep her person clean when doing household chores and before going to bed.

“Yes, they do,” Chu Qingnian said curtly, as though she found the question unbearably foolish. “Those useless geezers didn’t teach you anything of worth, I see. We shall remedy that from now on.”

Zhen Huixin enjoyed Chu Qingnian’s martial arts lessons, partly because of the physical benefits - sharper senses, overall better health - and partly because having martial arts skills proved to be fun. They enabled her to, among other things, run faster, jump more lightly, and memorize verses with less effort. In the seven years she spent under Chu Qingnian’s tutelage, Zhen Huixin absorbed a little more than three-quarters of her teacher’s techniques. If Chu Qingnian was satisfied with her discipline’s progress, she did not show it.

Because Chu Qingnian disliked staying put for too long, the two of them traveled all over the country. Zhen Huixin saw most of southern and eastern China, and even visited the small islands off the eastern coast. She listened to Chu Qingnian’s story of the great deserts of the west, and vowed to see with her own eyes someday whether one place really could contain so much sand.

As Chu Qingnian grew older, she also became slightly more crotchety and fault-finding. She criticized Zhen Huixin more frequently and over smaller and smaller transgressions. During these instances, Zhen Huixin was more likely than not to answer back, and quarrels between herself and her teacher became uncomfortably common. It occurred to Zhen Huixin that her teacher might appreciate being alone for a change, after having been accompanied everywhere by a disciple for seven years. However, she was reluctant to confront Chu Qingnian with this conclusion, fearing that in doing so she would ignite another quarrel.

One day the two of them stayed at an inn. While Chu Qingnian was meditating in her room, Zhen Huixin quietly slipped out of the building. Her teacher would not imagine that she had run away until it was already too late.

The most prudent course, Zhen Huixin concluded, was to literally go where her feet took her; that way, Chu Qingnian would find it more difficult to track her down. If she went far enough westward, she might even arrive at the deserts. Enchanted by the image of swirling sand dunes beneath a severe blue sky, Zhen Huixin tucked away the prospects of her teacher’s fury and of the uncles’ disapproval for future consideration. What mattered now was reveling in her very first solitary journey.

Zhen Huixin was careful to avoid isolated pathways or areas with a lot of hiding places. Bandits or other people with evil intentions might think twice about approaching two women, but they would not hesitate to prey on one single girl. This was one facet of her journey that Zhen Huixin simply had to put up with.

She was delighted to have run unexpectedly into Ling Yinfei. He had grown taller, but he was still as kind as he had always been, and was definitely more mature. As she left him, Zhen Huixin hoped they would be able to meet again, and this time for a longer period of time.

A few hours later, she spotted a small building at the edge of an open field, and headed toward it. The day was already sinking into darkness. She found the building to be a dusty temple, the sort that worshipers visited only when they needed to ask a certain favor from the divinities. Zhen Huixin entered the dilapidated building somewhat warily - some of the bandits or other undesirables she had eluded so far might already have taken up residence inside.

The interior reeked of mildew and one of the decorative pillars supporting the ceiling was cracked, but otherwise the temple was presentable enough. Faint starlight shone through double windows on opposite walls. A statue of Guan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, was seated upon a stone pedestal about four feet high directly in front of the entrance. If the floor behind the pedestal was clean and uninhabited by rodents, Zhen Huixin decided, she would sleep there. Other travelers might pass by and she did not want them to see her, a lone young girl, before she saw them. Her teacher and uncles, had they known, would have been pleased with her caution, if with nothing else.

The floor behind the pedestal was surprisingly devoid of mouse droppings, and was covered with only a thin layer of dust. Zhen Huixin swept some of the dust aside, then sat down and leaned against the pedestal, relieved to finally get her weight off her feet. Very soon her fatigue overcame her and she slipped into a restful sleep, dreaming of the Frozen Plums Waterfall and the hut by the poplar tree.

Sometime later she was roused into wakefulness by sounds coming from the doorway. Several people had come into the temple; they were conversing in low voices and having a debate about something. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Zhen Huixin drew a deep, silent breath, and focused all her concentration on her hearing.

Judging from their voices, the new arrivals were two men, and they were not in a very jolly mood. There might also have been a silent third person, but if so, Zhen Huixin did not sense them.

“This place is miles away from anywhere,” said the first voice, which was reedy and nervous. “We should rest here.”

“We are safe,” countered the other voice. It was deeper and its owner spoke in a fierce tone. “Why do you find it so difficult to believe? We are discarded, unimportant - no one will bother to harm us, let alone kill us.”

The two men made their way across the floor. They sounded as though they were dragging their feet; to Zhen Huixin, this indicated either lameness or injury. Then the footsteps stopped, and the two men sat down. One of them heaved a mournful sigh.

The first, reedy voice spoke. “Brother Pang, we have been terribly unlucky since that day seven years ago. Perhaps we should quit dabbling in worldly matters, shave our heads and enter a monastery. Then we shall find peace and contentment.”

The man called Brother Pang grunted. “You do it, if you want, Brother Cheng.”

The ensuing silence spun out until drowsiness overcame Zhen Huixin once more. She was, however, determined to stay awake. When the two men fell asleep, she would sneak past them and out of the temple. Better to find another place to spend the night in than to stay under the same roof as two suspicious characters; to her, the men sounded like fugitives.

Cheng said, “I wonder what became of that boy. In his youth Lightning Feet Dong Yao used to do heroic things for the country, but who knows what manner of person he is nowadays?”

“If he is still the man he once was, he might have taken the boy back to his home. I gather the boy and the rest of his family are now dead, after their house got burned down.”

“I felt bad about the whole business. He was just a boy, after all.”

“Yes, I felt bad too - because our job was botched. We should’ve done it successfully had it not been for Dong Yao.”

“Dong Yao probably took care of the boy after his family was gone.”

“Who gives a damn about the boy? And you tend to ramble more in your old age, Brother Cheng.”

From the moment her uncle’s name had been mentioned, Zhen Huixin had been wide awake. Now, recognizing the boy the men referred to as Ling Yinfei, her curiosity soared. Were these men two of the three kidnappers who had abducted Ling Yinfei seven years ago? But what had that bit about his house going up in flames been about? Was it true? And if it was, did Ling Yinfei know?

In her excitement, Zhen Huixin poked her head out from behind the pedestal, determined to take a quick peek at the faces of men whom Ling Yinfei said had worn masks back then. At that very second, one of the men looked at the pedestal, caught sight of her and started in violent astonishment. Zhen Huixin’s heart missed a beat; she withdrew her head hastily. There was a pregnant pause.

“You, behind the pedestal - come out,” growled the man called Pang.

Zhen Huixin rose to her feet and stepped away from behind the pedestal, arranging her face to appear bland instead of guilty. The men, too, had stood up, and she looked directly at both of them, trying to make out as much of their appearance as was possible in the dim light. Despite his thin voice, Cheng was wide across the shoulders, while Pang was tall and thin. Their figures had gone to seed; their flesh, clothed with skin the color of old parchment, hung loosely on their bones. She had, however, been correct on one thing - their feet. Each man discernibly put most of his weight on one foot, as if the other one had been broken and had mended badly.

“Who are you? Why were you spying on us?” Pang barked.

“I was not spying on you,” Zhen Huixin retorted. “I was sleeping here when you both came in. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“Brother Pang, let her go,” Cheng muttered. “She’s just a little girl, she has nothing to do with us.”

Pang seemed to be pondering his companion’s words, when Zhen Huixin said, “I know what you did. You kidnapped Brother Yinfei seven years ago! Did you burn down his house, too?”

“What did you say?” Pang’s expression became thunderous.

“Are you from the Five Swords Sect? Why aren’t you wearing masks? Have you been ousted?”

With a cry of indignation, Pang sprang forward, his fist flying out at Zhen Huixin – broken foot or not, his movements were nimble. Zhen Huixin evaded his punches, which were quicker than she had surmised; Chu Qingnian’s remark that people with maimed body parts often exercised their other, whole body parts to perfection flashed through her mind. She retaliated with moves of her own - powerful swipes of the open palms meant to repel rather than assail. Pang, paradoxically incensed that she was merely on the defensive, grew more frenzied in his attacks, and ignored Cheng’s repeated entreaties for him to stop. Not wishing to be engaged in a drawn-out fight, Zhen Huixin took a leap backward, ran in a wide circle around Pang, and fled from the temple.

Out in the open, the night was pitch-black - Zhen Huixin suspected that it was the intense darkness that came shortly before dawn. She sped across the field, waiting for the men’s shouts but hearing nothing more than the wind rushing past her ears. Before too long the darkness would lift; she would be able to see better and might locate a village or town where she could lie low for a week.

It had been stupid of her to reveal to the men that she knew about the kidnapping, but she had been overcome by curiosity. That had been one lapse her teacher and uncle would not have approved of. A rueful little smile pulled at one side of her mouth. Other than Chu Qingnian, now she had two more people to steer clear of -

The solid, grassy ground beneath Zhen Huixin’s feet vanished with heart-stopping suddenness. Her throat closed, cutting off her scream, as she tumbled down into nothingness. The fall seemed to last forever. Then her head collided nastily with something, and an all-pervading black, deafening in its silence, swallowed her.

How much time went by before she came around she could not estimate. When she did wake up, the first thing that intruded on her consciousness - and convinced her that she was still alive - was a sharp twinge on her right ankle. The ankle hurt, and felt a little out of alignment. Fighting away the remaining dizziness, Zhen Huixin stirred into a sitting position to survey her surroundings.

The place she was in was poorly lit, and she had been lying on a hard surface. Was she at the bottom of a deep ravine, and would she have to climb her way out? Then, realizing where she was, she went rigid with shock.

She was back inside the small temple. Only this time it was morning, or perhaps halfway toward noon; summer sunlight, motes of dust dancing lazily in its path, shimmered into the building from the half-open door. She had been lying at the base of the pedestal. Of the two men from last night there was no sign.

There was a dull, insistent throbbing near the top of her head. Zhen Huixin raised a numb hand - timidly, dreading the discovery - and touched the source of the pain. Her fingertips informed her that her head sported a small but painful lump, almost certainly acquired from that hard bump before she had passed out. Which was only natural – one did not expect to survive falling into a ravine with just a sprained ankle. The sprain itself would be a terrible nuisance, preventing her from moving around freely, or from even moving at all. She was in a rather bad shape - but all things considered, her situation could have been worse. She hadn’t broken any bones, at least.

Had the men found her unconscious and carried her back to the temple to interrogate her? But then why were neither of them here? Had they been reassured by her sprained ankle, surmising that she would not be able to move from the temple? Had she truly sprained it during her fall, or had the sprain been done deliberately by the men in order to prevent her from escaping?

The door opened wider with a creak, and a shadow darkened the doorway. Zhen Huixin gasped, expecting to see Pang or Cheng loom over her. When she saw who it was instead, her jaw dropped before she could restrain herself.

“It’s you!” she burst out.

The newcomer halted and raised a quizzical eyebrow, but did not say anything.

“You’re that - that - arrogant young master who defeated Iron Ox Zhang yesterday! What are you doing here?”

The young man’s lips curved into a distinct sneer. “You were stupid enough not to look where you were going, and to fall into a ravine. So I carried you to this temple and kicked out the two old losers who were here.”

Zhen Huixin was speechless. He had saved her, and gotten rid of the two ex-kidnappers at the same time? Then she scowled at him. “That’s right, you do love to show off!” she said. “I thank you for your kindness in saving me. Now please leave.”

“Who the hell do you think you are, to order me to do this or not do that? No, I won’t leave. I happen to like it here – this temple is comfortable, if a bit dirty. Throw me out if you object to my being here.”

On top of being injured, she had to bear with taunts from an ill-mannered scoundrel who did not know any better. Zhen Huixin felt she would explode with sheer vexation. “Leave.”

The young man knelt down on one knee in front of her. “In case you missed the fact, let me tell you that you have a sprained ankle, which has to be treated correctly if you don’t want it to give you trouble in the future. Unless you fancy walking with a limp.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Up close, his hair was even more peculiar – thick and smooth, and it was indeed shot with threads of the purest white. Zhen Huixin experienced a fleeting interest: was he born with that sort of hair, or was it the result of practicing a certain – and perhaps forbidden - technique? The young man continued, “Are you sure you don’t want me to examine your sprained ankle?” He extended a hand toward the injury under discussion.

Not thinking that he might have done so just to goad her, Zhen Huixin whipped out her right hand - her left hand, being on the same side as the lump on her head, felt rather leaden. She repelled his hand with one of Chu Qingnian’s techniques, first driving her knuckles against his inner arm, then switching into rapid, circular movements aimed at blood pressure points.

He yanked his hand back - not from pain, she saw, but from surprise. “What is Chu Qingnian to you?”

“It’s none of your concern, I said. Now will you get out of here?” In the midst of her mounting exasperation, Zhen Huixin was astounded that the young man could name Chu Qingnian simply by observing her technique. Although Chu Qingnian was a highly skilled martial arts fighter, she did not mingle much with the martial arts society. Like her ex-husband, she preferred being alone or with very close acquaintances. Those who had heard of her would not typically belong to the young man’s generation.

“Fine, I’m going.” The young man stood up and whisked his robe aside in a careless, haughty gesture that Zhen Huixin recognized from the previous day. “Perhaps the next time we meet, I can call you Little Miss Lame.” He exited the temple.

Zhen Huixin was consumed by a sudden, childish impulse to grab some heavy object and hurl it after him. He was right, of course - without the correct treatment, a sprain could cause any number of problems, limping not being the least of them. Even so, she would rather deal with those than be indebted to him.

She shook her head. She did not habitually fly into a temper, and behaving rudely to a person who had saved you was more than uncalled for - it was almost a crime. But, she told herself, he had seemed like he had had no need for her gratitude anyway.

Mentally dismissing the white-haired young man, Zhen Huixin massaged her calf and threw a cursory glance around the temple. She would need a stick or a similar object to help her walk to the nearest village, where hopefully she would find a masseuse, or learn the whereabouts of one. The longer she delayed the search for professional help, the more painful the treatment would be.

A figure appeared before her, blocking the sunlight. Her mood swinging back to irritation, Zhen Huixin said, “Why are you still here?”

Then she saw that the young man was walking backward instead of forward into the temple; he moved with short, cautious steps unlike his customary confident stride. Another figure came and stood before the young man; the sunlight was in Zhen Huixin’s eyes, so that the second person was a dazzling silhouette. When the person stepped inside the temple proper, she got a better view of him. The man was in his seventies and ferocious-looking, with more than a passing facial resemblance to the young man. It was easy to see that they were related by blood.

“Grandfather,” the young man murmured, sounding pointedly reluctant.

“You left the Yellow Forests without my permission!” the elderly man boomed out. Massive inner strength pounded against the walls and pillars; Zhen Huixin reared back in reflex. “I have punished my servants for less. Do you think that just because you’re my grandson, you can do as you wish with impunity?”

The young man folded his arms, radiating defiance. “I usually visit my mother at this time of year,” he stated. “Grandfather, you already know that. The reason I left without asking your permission is because you are sometimes away for weeks, or months. I didn’t want to sit around waiting for you to return.”

With each word uttered by his grandson, the elderly man grew more visibly incensed. “Shou-er, you really have no respect for me, do you?”

“I respect Grandfather immensely, and I also respect my mother. To be perfectly honest, I thought Grandfather would be gone for as long as a month. That’s why I went without waiting for you, since I believed I’d be back before you were.”

Hearing this, the young man’s grandfather turned a frightening shade of red. Zhen Huixin, bracing herself for a torrent of wrath, cut in, “Elder, if I may beg your pardon for interrupting.”

The elderly man transferred the full force of his glare to her. “Who are you, brat?”

“Honorable elder,” Zhen Huixin said, praying that the young man’s grandfather was like Dong Yao, who was willing to accept a reasonable argument even when enraged, “my deepest apologies for interfering with family matters which are no affairs of mine. I could not help listening to what your grandson has said. He didn’t ask for your permission when he left home, but this was because of his duty to his mother. Duty to one’s parents outweighs numerous other obligations which we have to fulfill in life. Meanwhile, he has also done good deeds. He saved me when I fell into a ravine, and also he saved me from men who threatened to harm me. Thus, on his behalf I humbly request that you forgive him.” She ended the speech with the most graceful bow she could manage while sitting down. There, she thought. If that boor of a young master wants to ruin the effect, now is the best opportunity.

The young master said nothing. The elderly man stared suspiciously at Zhen Huixin before speaking to his grandson. “Shou-er, is she telling the truth?”

“She did fall into a ravine and get injured,” the young man replied. “And I did carry her here.”

A huge grin abruptly split his grandfather’s face. The smile paradoxically made him look even more intimidating. “Someone asks for forgiveness on your behalf. You should appreciate that, Shou-er.” He emitted a dry little chuckle. Then, to Zhen Huixin, “Brat, what’s your name? Do you belong to any particular martial arts school?”

“I am called Zhen Huixin, a disciple of the Pearl Butterfly Chu Qingnian.”

“Is that so? I’m Wen Mengjin, Master of the Yellow Forests – a name that even a sapling like you must know. This is my grandson, Wen Shou.”

“Elder Wen.” Zhen Huixin hesitated only for a fraction of a second. “Brother Wen.”

Wen Mengjin surveyed her from head to toe with piercing eyes. “Shou-er said something about injuries. Where are you injured, exactly?” Zhen Huixin told him about her ankle, and he said, “Let me have a look at it. Shou-er, you go outside.”

“Why?”

“Idiot! An unmarried young man must not look at an unmarried young woman’s bare feet. It’s indecent.” Zhen Huixin blushed, and Wen Mengjin went on blithely, “Tell the servants to go find a sedan chair. Hurry.”

Wen Shou marched out.

During the next half-hour Wen Mengjin brutally massaged Zhen Huixin’s muscles back into place. The nerve-crunching agony made her groan and sweat copiously, but otherwise she suffered it without protest. After he was finished, Wen Mengjin said the ankle would heal in two or three days, provided she did not walk on it too much.

“Elder Wen is too kind,” Zhen Huixin said, wiping tears of pain from her eyes. “I can never repay you.”

Wen Mengjin brushed her thanks aside. “Are you really a disciple of Chu Qingnian’s?”

“Yes, I am.”

“My grandson’s mother also studied martial arts under the Pearl Butterfly.”

“Oh!” Zhen Huixin recalled how Wen Shou had identified her teacher after seeing one of her techniques. “Then Madam Wen is my martial sister. I should like to pay my respect to her.”

“Then you can go with my grandson, since he is on his way to his mother’s house. Little miss, why did you lie for him?”

Zhen Huixin was confused. “Lie, Elder? I didn’t lie.”

“Shou-er is not a helpful or generous boy. Why would he save you from the ravine?”

“I don’t know, Elder. He might have felt a trifle sorry for me.” From what she had seen of Wen Shou’s character, this was highly unlikely, but Zhen Huixin could find no other satisfactory explanation.

Wen Mengjin did not pursue the subject, and Zhen Huixin did not bring it up again.

From that point on, everything became ridiculously easy for her. Wen Shou returned with a brusque report that his grandfather’s servants, who had been waiting outside the temple, had acquired a sedan chair. Wen Mengjin had Zhen Huixin seated on the sedan chair, and declared that she and the servants were to accompany Wen Shou to Huan Qiangwei’s place. Wen Shou was vehemently vocal in his rejection of this order, but Wen Mengjin adamantly overruled him. Eventually Wen Shou gave in, casting sidelong insolent looks at Wen Mengjin, who ignored them completely.

Zhen Huixin had never ridden in a sedan chair before, and the initial comfort diverted her attention from her ankle. The notion that Wen Mengjin had granted someone like her, who was practically a total stranger, all this luxury merely to chastise his errant grandson did not detract from her pleasure. At the end of the day, however, her back ached, her bottom was quite sore, and the lump on her head pulsated dully. She was very grateful when they stopped at an inn and she could sleep on a bed.

The possibility of meeting another disciple of Chu Qingnian’s excited her; Chu Qingnian had taken only a limited number of students, none of whom were known to Zhen Huixin. All she knew was that the students were all female, and that she was the one who had stayed with Chu Qingnian the longest; Chu Qingnian had taught each of her other disciples for no longer than five years. Zhen Huixin also wondered if any of her martial sisters had known Bai Shi.

During the journey to his mother’s house, Wen Shou did not bother to acknowledge Zhen Huixin, which suited her - she had no intention of becoming friendly with him. The two of them were accompanied by six servants, who carried the sedan chair in turns; all of them were competent and hale men raised to serve the house of Wen. On the first day Zhen Huixin chatted desultorily with the servants. Eventually, however, Wen Shou rebuked the servants into an embarrassed silence. For that reason alone Zhen Huixin felt that she would not mind tugging at his strange white hair until clumps of it fell out.

They reached Huan Qiangwei’s house three days after Zhen Huixin’s encounter with Wen Mengjin. The house stood alone in the middle of a hilly area. Getting off from the sedan chair, Zhen Huixin marveled at the vegetable patch and the makeshift barn, and at the self-sustainment they signified. She also experienced a peculiar sensation – an unaccountable feeling that this house was not new to her, or that she had been to a similar house.

Wen Shou knocked at the door. “Mother, it’s me. Are you in there?”

There was no reply. Wen Shou pushed the door open and entered. Zhen Huixin walked in after him. Utter stillness greeted them.

“Mother?” Wen Shou called out. “It’s me, Shou-er.”

On Zhen Huixin’s right was a wooden bench; a long slim object lay on it. Frowning, Zhen Huixin sidled up to the bench and picked up the object. It was what she had suspected it to be - a sword encased in a green leather sheath. A small dragon was carved around the base of the sword hilt. The sight of the sword rang another familiar note; could she have seen it before?

Then she heard an almost audible click in her head, and, stunned, abruptly understood the feeling of familiarity. Ling Yinfei had told her a couple of times about the white-haired lady and her churlish son, from whose house the masked kidnappers had snatched him away. The story of the mother and son, and the son’s grandfather, had been so captivating for Zhen Huixin that it had lingered in her memory. She recalled Wen Mengjin, and slowly perceived the situation between him and his grandson in a new light.

Ling Yinfei had also described his family sword in detail to Zhen Huixin. The sword she was holding now matched the description perfectly.

Discontinued

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