Jianghu — Full Story
***
I once thought that the life of a jianghu[1] adventurer was all fast horses, strong wine, and deeds of chivalry.
Then I realised that none of my heroic visions were as dazzling as a thousandth fraction of the starlight in her eyes.
***
Lu Shangzhi. ‘Shang’ as in discussion; ‘zhi’ as in branches, boughs, twigs and stems. Her very name had a scholarly ring to it, and suggested the fragrance of medicinal herbs. Of course, that was only to be expected. My shifu’s[2] late friend had devoted his whole life to the study of medicine, and Lu Shangzhi, as his daughter and his disciple, was naturally expected to follow in his footsteps.
Shangzhi was two years older than me. While I was absorbed in my own training — including, most memorably, practising my horse stance[3] while balancing on a pair of stakes and carrying a heavy iron sword on my back — I would often see her sitting demurely beneath a tree, pounding herbs in a mortar, faithfully following the path her father had laid out for her.
I used to believe she was a gentle, docile girl with an especially loving nature. Because of that, I secretly redoubled my efforts at training. I needed to become a real warrior, I felt, the better to protect delicate girls like her.
As it turned out, that was all a lie.
The first of Lu Shangzhi’s successful experiments was a drug that could leach the strength from its victims’ limbs. The second was an incense that left all who breathed it in unconscious. For the third, she managed to disguise pure arsenic as a completely innocuous-seeming powder. The fourth was a still more terrifying specimen. It was also a powder, and anyone who came into contact with even the tiniest amount of it would find a rash breaking out over their entire body, covering every inch of skin with tiny red marks. It was a most horrific sight, yet she seemed to delight in it, even giving the drug a most elegant name — ‘A Sky Full of Stars’.
Once she had grown up and taken over her father’s practice fully, Lu Shangzhi became more emboldened to do exactly as she pleased. When she was in a good humour, she had all the patience and skill of Hua Tuo[4] reincarnated. But when she was ill-pleased, she was nothing short of a poisonous witch.[5]
Yet I could not say I detested her. She had been blessed with such good looks that it was impossible to find her loathsome. The worst I could say of Lu Shangzhi was that all this beauty and skill seemed rather wasted on her.
Lu Shangzhi had always looked down on me. I trained diligently in all seasons, but that only made me seem like a fool in her eyes. I told her I would protect her in future, but that only earned me a roll of her eyes and a flick of her sleeve… and a sprinkle of powder that left me lying prone and immobile in the middle of the training yard, where mosquitoes feasted on me all night long.
I felt that was a most underhanded trick, and refused to admit defeat. The next day, after I had recovered from the effects of the drug, I challenged her to a rematch — a ‘fair and proper’ contest, I insisted through gritted teeth. And then, very fairly and properly, she flung a fistful of the same powder into my face. As she walked away, she threw a final insult over her shoulder. ‘You great big fool.’
In short, Lu Shangzhi was a most malicious, mean-spirited young woman. Every time she provoked me I would try to retaliate, intending to give her a good beating; every time, I would succumb to one or another of those mysterious drugs. Later, she also learned some movement techniques and the fundamentals of unarmed combat. I never dared challenge her to another ‘contest’ after that.
***
I did, however, want to become a hero of the jianghu — the greatest and most righteous warrior in the world.
My shifu was a martial arts practitioner of surpassing skill, and very strict where my training was concerned. I was both diligent and eager to improve myself, and had a fair amount of natural talent besides. In time, I became one of the better martial artists in the jianghu.
I began striking out on adventures of my own. I defended the weak and vulnerable, drove off bandits, brought robbers to justice, and generally tried to bring succour to the downtrodden. Lu Shangzhi, meanwhile, spent her days drinking and gallivanting about. When she was in a generous mood, she would save a few lives here and there; when she was in a foul temper, she would dose whichever ne’er-do-wells happened to be disrespectful to her with a random mixture of drugs which, while not lethal, would make them very, very ill.
My adventures gradually brought me some fame. Jianghu elders would praise me when they saw me, hailing me as more than a match for my male counterparts.[6] Even my shifu’s reputation was enhanced by this. As for Lu Shangzhi, she too became known as a highly-skilled physician: every single patient she treated was cured of whatever ailments they came to her with. But she was far too prone to doing as she pleased. If she felt like treating a patient, she would; if she did not, nothing in this world could move her. She was loved and respected by many, and cursed and reviled by just as many.
I thought she probably didn’t care either way. Whenever I’d sit and drink on the roof of my house, Lu Shangzhi would appear at my side, seemingly out of nowhere. She would snatch the wine jar out of my hands, squeeze me into a corner and stretch herself out, gulping down the contents of the jar and gazing up at the stars while tossing the occasional stone into the courtyards of the neighbouring houses. I once asked her how she felt about the things people said of her.
Lu Shangzhi told me that she did exactly as she pleased, and even threw a jibe at me into the bargain. ‘How is a great big fool like you going to survive in the jianghu? You and your dreams about becoming some famous hero! Tsk.’ Both the look on her face and the tone of her voice held nothing but the utmost disdain.
Before leaving, Lu Shangzhi would always grumble, ‘This wine of yours is absolutely disgusting. Next time, get some of the more expensive stuff!’ And then she would toss the empty jar into my lap and disappear into the night.
That was just how Lu Shangzhi was.
I couldn’t help but feel that if Lu Shangzhi carried on in this way, trouble would befall her sooner or later; she was likely to offend someone she couldn’t afford to. In the event, this was exactly what happened.
Strictly speaking, trouble did not befall her. An elderly Daoist priest of considerable renown was suddenly taken ill. He might have been poisoned, or he could have been struck down by some mysterious disease. He was the founder of one of the jianghu’s leading sects, and so his disciples travelled near and far, seeking a cure for him. Eventually they learned the name of Lu Shangzhi, whom many hailed as a medical genius. The current leader of the sect sent his most senior disciple, together with a gaggle of his juniors, to bring Lu Shangzhi to the ailing priest’s bedside.
As disciples of one of the jianghu’s foremost sects these young men were naturally prideful, considering themselves far above the common herd. This attitude of theirs left Lu Shangzhi completely cold, so she shut her door in their faces. The senior disciple was outraged. Claiming that this so-called ‘medical genius’ was unworthy of her title, he proceeded to break down Lu Shangzhi’s door and storm into her house.
As I’ve said before, Lu Shangzhi had a deceptively lovely appearance. I could only surmise that the senior disciple was taken aback by her beauty. Whatever the truth, the rumour that spread across the jianghu claimed he’d been overcome by lust at the sight of her. It was said that he’d tried to wheedle her into leaving with him, that he’d plied her with both sweet promises and violent threats — even that he tried to take her away with him by force.
And then a terrifying red rash broke out all over his body, the strength drained out of his limbs, and he was thrown unceremoniously out of the house.
When he and his posse went back the next day, Lu Shangzhi had already sold the house and left without a trace.
The leader of the sect then made an open proclamation, exhorting Lu Shangzhi to come and attend to their ailing founder. Lu Shangzhi declined: she signalled her refusal by painting a large cross over their front gates, and even appended her graceful signature to it.
And then that petty, mean-souled, small-minded, bullying sect leader went and and put a bounty on Lu Shangzhi’s head! His notice to this effect claimed that her disposition was evil through and through, that she cared nothing for human life, that there was nothing upright or honourable about her — you could tell that just by looking at her! — and that she was the very picture of a malign witch. Then came the offer of a generous reward, and a final entreaty to all who read the notice to punish this villain and see that justice was upheld.
At the same time, the sect leader also promised that if Lu Shangzhi saw the error of her ways, repented, and came forward to cure their elderly founder, all would be forgiven.
This was bare-faced bullying! The news sent me into a fit of rage. Before I could decide what to do a group of junior disciples from that very sect, calling themselves ‘defenders of justice’, sought me out and invited me to join their crusade against Lu Shangzhi. To hear them talk, Lu Shangzhi was nothing short of a bloodthirsty, vicious brute; one of the greatest evildoers the jianghu had ever seen. She was said to be heinous beyond redemption. Their meaning was clear: once Lu Shangzhi was dead, the world would finally know peace.
Bah!
Repressing my anger, I politely turned down these self-righteous hypocrites’ invitation. They began to abuse me roundly, even dragging my shifu’s name through the mud, and my hand went reflexively to the hilt of my sword. I struck the kneecaps of the group’s leader so viciously with the still-sheathed blade that he keeled over and fell flat on his face — although I had meant to force him into a kneeling position.
That was a rash thing to do, but I was completely clear-headed throughout, and there was a ball of rage burning in my heart, besides. With perfect calm, I took out the sleeping powder Lu Shangzhi had given me and scattered it about. Then I swallowed a dose of the antidote that counteracted its effects — another of Lu Shangzhi’s gifts — and watched as the disciples collapsed onto the ground one by one, struggling vainly against unconsciousness.
I then stripped them of their outer robes, leaving them in only their undergarments. Then, under the cover of night, I tied each and every one of them to the biggest, broadest tree in the city. Their weapons, coin and other possessions I buried at their feet.
The tree was said to be more than a hundred years old, so my actions were probably somewhat disrespectful. At the time, my only twinge of guilt came from the possibility that I might have affronted the dignity of a noble tree. I gave no thought to what would become of these holier-than-thou louts, or of what their sanctimonious sect leader might do in response. I simply sat on my rooftop, looking up at the moon and enjoying the breeze on my skin. A sense of untrammelled freedom swept over me; I had never felt anything like this before.
I now understood something of why Shangzhi was the way she was. I felt an exhilarating sense of release. There was no need to hold back my emotions, and — better still — no compulsion to carry out deeds that I considered contemptible in the name of so-called ‘honour’, or ‘justice’, or other such baseless fictions. It was a good feeling.
This was the life I wanted — the life of a gallant jianghu adventurer. This was exactly the kind of person I wanted to be.
I was just surprised it had taken me so long to come to this realisation.
***
I sank down onto the bed I’d managed to secure at an inn, finally allowing myself to relax a little. I was sweating so much that I looked as though I’d just been dragged out of a river. Every time I moved, the place where I’d been struck ached so fiercely that I barely dared to breathe. I had never been injured so badly before.
After I’d dealt with those junior disciples, their sect leader had decided that it was his turn to confront me (heedless of the fact that he was many times my senior, and that such a challenge should have been beneath him). I supposed I could take a fair amount of pride in how I’d handled the matter: no matter how skilled and accomplished the old bully was, he’d only been able to land a single blow on me. Once I’d decided that it was safest to beat a retreat he hadn’t been able to keep pace with me, much less lay another a finger on me. His disciples were no match for me, either. No wonder Lu Shangzhi had refused to treat the founder of their sect. The world would be pleasanter without the lot of them in it.
There was a sudden movement at the window. It startled me so much that my hand went straight to the hilt of the sword where it stood leaning beside the bed. I held my breath, every muscle in my body tensing to breaking point. Had they managed to track me down so quickly?
I vowed silently that even if the intruder were no more than a rat, I would chop it into pieces on the spot!
It was not a rat.
With almost breathtaking suddenness, Lu Shangzhi appeared at the window. I was already charging forwards, my sword drawn; very clumsily, I forced myself to a halt. I stared at her, wondering: what is she doing here? It had been quite a long time seen I’d last seen her.
I watched Lu Shangzhi vault lightly through the window and, with a complete disregard for any notions of propriety, sit down on top of the table, crossing one leg negligently over the other. A piece of straw she’d obtained from somewhere dangled from the corner of her mouth. She looked me up and down.
This was very awkward, and very embarrassing.
I knew exactly what a sorry sight I was. My clothes were completely dishevelled, and there was no trace of the dashing jianghu adventurer left about me. I did not know how to treat the injury I’d received, so all I could do was circulate my qi[7] around my body to lessen the pain and wait for it to heal naturally.[8]
That familiar look of disdain came into Lu Shangzhi’s eyes once more. She spat the piece of straw onto the floor. ‘You great big fool.’
Ah, she was finally deigning to speak.
…Wait. Was she insulting me?
‘So. You finally bit off a lot more than you could chew.’ The scorn in Lu Shangzhi’s eyes seemed to deepen, and her tone was utterly hostile. Her demeanour ill-suited her beautiful face, which was so lovely that it left me quite distracted.
Still, I couldn’t let that barb pass. ‘Really?’ I said. ‘I wasn’t even born when that old bully began his training! No one from this generation could have beaten me!’ I had every confidence in my abilities. Another few years’ hard training, and I’d be able to knock every tooth out of that old man’s mouth!
‘I’m not here to quibble with you about seniority,’ Lu Shangzhi sneered. She finally slipped down from the table. Then, in a single, almost preternaturally smooth movement, she darted forwards so that she was standing just inches away from me. Startled, I threw up an arm in self-defence, and her hand closed instantly around my wrist.
‘An internal injury,’ she declared, after feeling my pulse for a few moments. ‘I’ll make up a prescription for you tomorrow. From now on, you should stay out of my business.’
‘Do you think I wanted to get myself mixed up in this?’ I demanded. ‘I stepped in because they were behaving so despicably! I want to be a great jianghu hero, as you know, and being a hero is about doing what’s right. I couldn’t stand by and let them go after you!’ So incensed was I that I slapped her hand away. I couldn’t help feeling hard done by. She was the one I’d been trying to protect, after all. And here she was, looking down on me! How could she — and when we’d known each other for so long, as well?
‘Oh? A great hero?’ the infuriating woman replied almost theatrically. Her lovely face was contorted into an expression of exaggerated enquiry. ‘Is this what a hero looks like? Please, spare me.’
That left me seething again. I wanted nothing more than to give her a couple of hearty slaps — that would make her see sense! — but I didn’t dare. Who knew what she had up those literal sleeves of hers? Just one flick of her wrist could put me into a world of pain.
Although I didn’t want to risk touching a single hair on her head, I could at least resort to words. ‘Get out!’ I shouted. ‘I don’t need you here, pretending to feel sorry for me!’ I was in such a rage that I could feel myself trembling uncontrollably, and when I roared at her, I could distinctly hear my voice cracking.
‘Tsk. Are you really… oh? Is our great hero actually shedding precious, precious tears?’ Lu Shangzhi shifted closer to me in the most eminently punchable fashion. Unable to stop my eyes from misting over, I swung a hand towards her and landed a smack on her face. But there was no force behind the blow; all it did was push her a little further away.
‘Are you really crying?’ She sounded a little surprised. Then she fumbled in her pockets for a moment and fished out a chunk of osmanthus candy wrapped in oilpaper. ‘Here, take this,’ she said, pushing it into my hand.
I felt supremely humiliated. Not only had my good deed gone unrewarded, I felt as though I’d set out to rescue a dog only for it to turn around and bite me for my trouble. She had come here just to heap insult on injury, without giving me a single word of thanks or comfort. I felt so very hard done by, so very sad, that I couldn’t even bear to speak to her anymore. So I turned my back to her and burst into tears.
I was such a fool. Barely a few moments ago I’d been so proud of myself, believing that I’d done the right thing, a good thing. Now I felt as if I’d been slapped in the face. Lu Shangzhi had looked me straight in the eye and called me a fool for taking all those pains. The trouble was, I couldn’t get the better of her in either a fight or an argument; all I could do was grit my teeth and bear whatever abuse she decided to fling at me. I recalled all the times she’d bullied me during our childhood. I must have taken leave of all my wits when I decided to stand up for her, I thought.
‘Would you like some of this poison, the one that saps you of all your strength?’ Lu Shangzhi pressed. ‘Or the one that puts you to sleep? Or this one, that sends you keeling over in the space of three steps? Oh, I’ve just come up with a new kind of itching powder called the Laughing Guest — shall I give you some?’
This, unsurprisingly, did nothing to stop my tears.
‘Will you please stop crying?’ wheedled Lu Shangzhi. ‘You’re a jianghu hero, aren’t you? A hero for the ages? A great warrior like you shouldn’t let the words of someone as petty as myself affect you.’
This, too, did not have the desired effect.
‘Are you ever going to stop?’ Lu Shangzhi demanded. ‘Honestly, you’re the biggest fool I’ve ever known. What business have you got calling yourself a jianghu adventurer? Sooner or later, you’ll find yourself running back into your shifu’s arms!’
My sobs only intensified.
‘If you don’t stop, I’m going to use the Laughing Guest on you,’ Lu Shangzhi said menacingly.
Who was laughing? Not me!
‘…all right then.’ Lu Shangzhi sat down next to me and rubbed her forehead against my shoulder, rather in the manner of a nesting bird. ‘I was wrong.’ Her voice was so soft and gentle that I almost thought I’d fallen into some strange nightmare.
‘But why did you have to go and get yourself mixed up in my business?’ she continued. ‘You even went and got yourself hurt — what do you expect me to call that, if not the height of foolishness? Those bullies wouldn’t have done anything to me. After all, I’m the only person in the world who can heal their precious founder. They would have had no choice but to grovel before me and beg for my help, in the end.’ She paused, and her tone became even more serious. ‘Not that I would say yes now, even if they did grovel.’
‘Oh?’ I raised an eyebrow at those words. Scrubbing a hand hastily over my face, I turned to look at Lu Shangzhi. Her cheek was resting against my shoulder, but her gaze — half-hidden by her downturned eyelids — was startlingly cold; it made me think of the unmelting ice that was said to lie in the frozen lands of the furthermost north.
‘They attacked me and mine, and they still expect me to help them?’ She gave a cold, malevolent chuckle. ‘In their dreams.’
My heart leapt, and I bit my lip to hide my reaction. ‘But you just said I was none of your business,’ I pointed out.
‘What? I said you should stay out of my business. What if they’d kidnapped you and held you hostage to force me to heal that old priest? Then I would have no choice but to do it, and that would be so humiliating.’ She snorted. ‘I can’t stand those arrogant louts. And besides,’ she added, ‘you’re such a fool, who knows how they could have hoodwinked you while they were holding you hostage?’
I felt as though ice-cold water had been dashed over my throbbing heart. With ruthless precision Lu Shangzhi had seized my nascent hopes by the throat, cutting them off mid-bound.
‘Oh? Has our great hero finally stopped crying?’ Lu Shangzhi exclaimed, as if she’d just made some earth-shattering discovery. Before she could say anything more, I reached out and pinched both of her cheeks, one with each hand. The sensation was delightful. To tell the truth, I’d wanted to do this for a long time now.
‘Let go of me,’ she mumbled, but she didn’t seem angry, nor did she try to stop me. Her tone was all exasperation, but there was a smile in her eyes.
Oh, she was such a infuriating girl. I duly let go; all I wanted to do was sigh. I simply could not understand her.
‘Are you upset?’ Lu Shangzhi asked cautiously, clearly trying to gauge my state of mind. When I pointedly ignored her, she looked to one side, then stood up and leapt straight out of the window. Alarmed, I rushed forwards — only see her darting back in again, holding a leaf between two of her fingers.
To all outward appearances, it looked like a perfectly ordinary leaf. But in her hands, it would become something extraordinary. I knew what she meant to do, for it was a thing she often did.
I had once pestered my shifu to teach me how to play the leaf-flute. This was done by curling a leaf artfully and blowing across it in a particular way. I’d always thought there was something rather dashing about it. I destroyed thousands of blameless leaves in my quest to master the skill, and managed to produce only noises that sounded like flatulence — completely unfit for human ears. Somehow Lu Shangzhi got wind of this. The next day she came bounding up to me, feigning complete ignorance about the leaf-flute.
‘Oh my! Can you really play music using just a leaf? Please can you teach me? I would love so much to learn!’
And so on and so forth. I’d never, ever, in my life heard her speak in such admiring tones before, and it left me feeling rather light-headed. I agreed to teach her, and launched straight into a lecture on the finer points of technique. And then, when it came time for her to make her first practical attempt, she put the leaf to her lips and played me a perfect little tune.
Then, heedless of my rapidly darkening expression, she came right up to me, smiling sweetly. ‘How was that?’ she asked. ‘Did I do it right? Why don’t you give it a try, too?’ Her eyes were full of malicious glee.
Since then, I’d never tried my hand at the leaf-flute again. But every now and then Lu Shangzhi would play me a tune to coax me out of some ill-humour her antics had put me in, just as she was doing now.
She played beautifully: every single note was crisp, and the melody had something ethereal about it.
When she finished playing Lu Shangzhi unwrapped the oilpaper package, twisted off a piece of osmanthus candy and held it out to me, insisting that I eat it. I knew this was as much of an apology as I would get from her, so I leaned forward and bit down.
Lu Shangzhi did not draw her hand back. The result of this was that as I swirled the piece of osmanthus candy into my mouth, my tongue brushed against her forefinger.
That was so embarrassing that I had no idea what to say to her. Then, suddenly, she pressed her finger against my lips.
I dared not chew on the piece of candy in my mouth. I had frozen completely stiff from head to foot, as immobile as if my body had been cobbled together from so many gears and cogs. The sweetness of the candy, however, pricked at my tastebuds, spread across my tongue, and made my mouth water. In my nervousness, I swallowed, drawing a light laugh from her.
‘Why don’t you come out west with me tomorrow, to Xiyu?’[9] she said. ‘I don’t want you staying here — it’s not good for you.’ Her eyes were shining brightly. When she looked at you — only at you — it felt was if she was offering all of that light to you.
I had always liked lying on my rooftop and watching the stars, because that was the kind of thing I felt a gallant jianghu adventurer ought to do; that was a night sky fit for a hero’s eyes. I loved that view, and yearned for it on the nights that I was away. But now, my heart wavered — and perhaps it always would, from now on.
‘Why?’ I asked Lu Shangzhi.
‘Do you want to stay here and wait for that mob to come after you?’ she demanded. ‘How big of a fool are you? Why don’t you come and explore Xiyu with me for a little while? After all, those Daoist priests need me, and we don’t need them. They’ll be grovelling to us by the time we come back.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘If they really do want me to cure that old founder of theirs, every single member of that sect has to kneel down and kowtow to you a hundred times, and I expect to hear their foreheads thumping solidly against the floor each and every time!’
‘When you refused to treat that old priest,’ I said, ‘I thought it was because their sect leader’s senior disciple had… the way he behaved towards you…’
‘Oh? And what of it? It wasn’t as if he could do anything to me.’ Lu Shangzhi snorted again, and flung a sideways glare at me. Inwardly, she was probably berating me again, calling me a great big fool and muttering about how I was the only one stupid enough to let myself be ill-used at the hands of our joint enemies.
I knew her too well, that was the trouble. She only had to look at me, and I could tell instantly what kinds of names she was calling me in her head.
‘You were the one that senior disciple had designs on,’ I said. ‘You’re the one he should be grovelling in front of, the one he should be apologising to. Besides, you’re the one with the ability to heal their founder. What has all of that got to do with me? Why make them kneel and kowtow to me?’
‘If they’d asked politely,’ Lu Shangzhi said, ‘and treated me with respect, and admitted that they’d been in the wrong, I could have let it go. There was no point in them sending a mob after me, or putting a bounty on my head. If they wanted me to heal their old priest, I’d still have made them beg. But they shouldn’t have laid a finger on you. It’s not the same with you.’ She frowned; there was an unaccustomed severity in her expression. She sounded for all the world like a schoolmaster at an academy, taking the students through their lessons one by one. ‘They know what we are to each other and yet they tried to force you to take up arms against me, and railed against you when you said no. That’s their first offence. And then, after you taught those disciples a small lesson, their sect leader turned up and attacked you, even though he was so much more senior, and left you wounded. That’s their second offence. After you escaped, the old bully put a bounty of five thousand taels of gold on your head! That was too much for me. He wants to see if I can still keep my composure, if I can still carry on amusing myself as usual, with that threat hanging over you. And I must admit, I can’t.’
‘And what are we to each other?’ I asked suddenly, staring at her. For some reason, that was the only part of her little speech that had fixed itself in my mind.
Just like that, the smug expression froze on Lu Shangzhi’s face; she didn’t even have time to dispel the smile that still lingered at the corners of her mouth. Stiffly, she turned and looked into my eyes, but didn’t say a single word. Inch by inch, a cherry-red flush began to spread across her cheeks.
After several long moments of silence, she finally mumbled, ‘That depends on whether you’re coming to Xiyu with me.’
‘Do you want me to?’ I flung the question back at her.
This seemed to vex Lu Shangzhi somewhat. ‘You’re such a great big fool,’ she said, clutching at her hair. ‘The moment you leave my side, somebody’s bound to come along, lop your head off your shoulders and bring it to that old bully in exchange for those five thousand taels. I can’t let you just throw your life away like that, can I?’
She really was the most frustrating woman. Couldn’t she bring herself to say anything nice, even just once? I shouldn’t have had my hopes up! She’d left me completely speechless with anger. I wanted to spit the piece of osmanthus candy that was still in my mouth out in her face, or to whip her out of the inn with my scabbard. I wanted to get her as far away from me as possible. The less I saw of her, the less she’d be able to provoke me!
‘…fine. Yes, I do want you to come with me,’ said Lu Shangzhi, finally. ‘I’d worry otherwise.’ There was a note in her voice which sounded as if she’d given up on something. She buried her head in my shoulder, not letting me see her face. I could feel heat spreading from her to me.
‘When I heard you’d done all that for me,’ she mumbled, ‘it made me so happy. I rushed here all the way from Yang City to see you, only to hear that you’d been wounded fighting that old bully, and that he’d put a price on your head. When I confronted him, I used the strength-sapping drug and the Laughing Guest on him. I’m sure he wishes he were dead. I was worried he’d take his anger out on you, so I ran around trying to find out where you’d gone. It was quite difficult to track you down. I bought the osmanthus candy especially for you, and I also brought you all sorts of medicines, just in case. I just… don’t understand why I feel this way about you. You’re such a great big fool, how could I possibly… possibly care so much for you.’
Her voice was as soft as a mosquito’s hum, and she spoke in fits and starts. I, however, heard every single word with perfect clarity, and the tips of my ears were beginning to burn.
I screwed up my courage, reached out and placed my hand over hers. ‘I’ll go with you. I’ll go anywhere with you.’
Lu Shangzhi should have been all maidenly blushes, but instead she let out a snort of laughter. ‘Then I’ll sell you out for those five thousand taels of gold.’
‘Oh? Then sell away. But remember, you only get to do that once.’ I curled my lip. How was it that she could always manage to get on my nerves?
Lu Shangzhi laughed so heartily that she ended up sprawling bodily across my shoulder. She rubbed her head against my neck, her breath tickling me. I lifted a hand, intending to push her away, but then I heard her say, ever so softly, ‘You great big fool.’ It was a lover’s murmur, filled with indescribable yearning, with boundless tenderness.
I sighed inwardly. She was such a wicked woman. I didn’t understand why I felt this way about her, either. Why was it impossible for me to ever let her go?
***
Footnotes:
- In Chinese, 江湖, literally ‘lakes and rivers’. In the broad sense, the term refers to various sub-sections of society that are orthogonal to mainstream society. In the present context (and in the wuxia genre generally) it refers to the world of martial artists, wandering adventurers, outlaws and rebels who abide by their own code of conduct instead of governmental laws. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 师父, literally ‘teacher-father’. In the wuxia genre, this refers to one’s martial arts teacher. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 马步 (pinyin: ma bu). This is a common stance in Chinese martial arts, which is used for endurance training as well as strengthening the back and leg muscles. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 华佗. Hua Tuo was a highly-respected physician who lived during the late Eastern Han dynasty. The term ‘Hua Tuo reincarnated’ is used to describe highly-skilled physicians. [return to text]
- In the original text, 妖女 (pinyin: yao nü), literally ‘demon woman’ (or ‘girl’). In the wuxia genre, the term is used disparagingly to describe women or girls whose way of being runs counter to jianghu orthodoxy in some way. They frequently have abilities that are misunderstood as being supernatural in some way (as opposed to being the result of highly specialised martial arts training). [return to text]
- In Chinese, the saying 巾帼不让须眉 (pinyin: jinguo bu rang xumei), literally ‘the headscarf and hair ornaments (symbolising women) do not give way to the beard and brows (symbolising men)’ refers to the idea that women are not inferior to men in various fields of endeavour. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 气, literally ‘breath’ or ‘air’. In Chinese tradition, qi is the vital force which exists in all living beings. The term is also sometimes translated as ‘spiritual energy’, ‘vital energy’, ‘vital breath’ and so forth. [return to text]
- In the wuxia genre, guiding one’s qi to circulate through all of one’s meridians is an accepted way of speeding up the body’s natural healing process. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 西域, literally ‘the Western Regions’. Historically, the term has been used to refer to regions lying west of ‘China proper’, including parts of Central Asia. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 