Chapter 126

Washed and combed, I take up the mirror and look close, grief settles between my brows, clear water brimming, the tears run on, and thinking on yesterday, I fear my heart will break...

Chen Dasheng sat in earnest at Qi Qian'er's dressing-table, and had been studying himself in the bronze mirror a full two hours.

A woman carrying two always needs much sleep, and after a whole night's upheaval she'd come back and fallen fast asleep, and, and even snored, and? broke wind? ground her teeth, talked in her sleep?

She, she even talked in her sleep?

Chen Dasheng couldn't sleep. His wife had carried him flying the whole way to stand before a beggar, and his wife said she couldn't teach, she only knew how to hit.

Not the kind of a fragrant little fist tapping lightly on the chest, but the kind that swings a snapped steel spear and pounds a man straight into pulp.

The man was called Pang Tu, an old recluse who ate the great tribute of Yuegong Mountain, holding a peak of his own among the green ranges, his disciples beyond counting, any one of them named at random a ringing figure in the martial world. And yet he died at his wife's hands, and Yuegong Mountain, which dared trade blows with Qin She, dared not set half a foot on Baiquan Mountain.

And not only Yuegong Mountain. Qin She didn't dare either.

To find her, Meng Dingchen had sent out countless secret-scout petty wardens year after year, and the Board of Revenue's allocation for this alone last year came to more than eight thousand strings.

And yet he'd bedded her? Even gotten her with child?

Chen Dasheng thought he was dreaming, and strove to wake himself from the dream. He leapt up and down, babbled nonsense, slapped himself left and right, and all but knelt and cried out to the ancestors and the bodhisattvas.

But his wife, right before his face, shattered a great tree outright. A tree it took five men's arms to circle, turned into a heap of even thumb-sized chunks? Chen Dasheng, saying not a word, knocked his head against a tree, and his wife, seeing him gone foolish, gave him a one-palmed smashing of a great boulder for good measure...

This time he was wholly awake, and Chen Dasheng began to fear for Granny's safety.

Who had given the old lady the nerve to spend ten strings of cash and fetch this very goddess to be his wife? Was there a flower growing on his face?

Chen Dasheng looked again at his own face in the bronze mirror. No, no flower growing on it? And not so very handsome either?

He forced up a smile and poked a finger at the dimple in his cheek. Was it because he was good and obedient, never angered her, and smiled sweetly?

A wave of disgust rose in him, Chen Dasheng gave a shiver, and slapped himself.

Without thinking he reached out and pulled open his wife's jewelry-box, and in an instant the glow of pearls and gems spilled out, precious ornaments of every kind shining bright, and yet... all of it she'd earned herself.

Chen Dasheng thought of the tribute-silver the Board of Revenue had taken in again last year from Baiquan Mountain, from the Elm-Tree Lady, who cared nothing at all for money and could turn down a hundred and more thousand strings, two hundred thousand strings, as easy as anything... And what was he, a pauper with only five hundred cash in his pocket month by month?

She was far more like an immortal than he, Feilian, was, with a real temple, and the incense-fires burning strong at that.

His unseen soul fairly flew out of all seven orifices, and in a daze Chen Dasheng took that Old Xin's teaching. He was a scout, and of course knew who the man was. The Beggar King! The old patriarch of all the beggars under heaven, his disciples hundreds of thousands, and yet ordered about this way and that by his own wife, and not the least sign of anger in him.

And so he'd learned the Beggar Sect's fast-running skill?

Fighting for food among wild dogs, how could you not run fast?

But this was the Beggar Sect's heritage, so how was it given him so easily?

Chen Dasheng was no fool, and once it dawned on him he learned it in earnest, but out of the corner of his eye he kept seeing one terror after another, sights to crack the heart. The woman carrying his child brought down one palm, and countless splinters of wood heaped into a bonfire, and where the fresh wood held sap that wouldn't catch?

She brought down another palm, and the wood dried on the instant, the flames blazing up beyond anything.

Flustered and distracted, he didn't learn with much heart, and so kept getting struck, kept being kicked off the tree by the old beggar for his wandering mind, and falling, saw his wife come up the mountain, hauling a stag home on her shoulder.

The stag's two antlers forked like a tall tree, its body so big it hid half of his wife, and yet his wife killed the deer just so, reached out a hand, snapped its neck with a crack, and the great stag crashed to the ground.

And Chen Dasheng too crashed down, kicked off the tree.

The old beggar complained to his wife in distaste, "My Lady, is it a blockhead of elm-wood you've married?"

His wife said, "Isn't that fine, then. Wood matched with wood."

With that she drew an ox-ear dagger from her boot, and deftly skinned and sinewed the deer, drained the deer's blood into a gourd, and with a thoroughly wifely face said to him, I'll make you deer-blood wine by and by.

Chen Dasheng gave a shiver, and fell again.

His wife skinning and sinewing and cooking the venison, no wonder at home she wouldn't eat this and didn't like that. Plainly she'd done no little secret eating up the back mountain.

Venison was heating to the blood, and she carrying a child, could she even eat it? Had she asked Master Cheng? How could you eat so recklessly?

Bruised all over from the falls, Chen Dasheng was dragged by Old Xin to rest by the bonfire, and he stared dull-eyed at the stars and thought, I'm a corpse now, best bury me where I lie and let me sleep on forever.

But his wife, a goddess? A she-fiend? A woman recluse? A mistress of a mountain? How could she be his wife?

He thought of all these years, of the torment of the early days, and how, ever since this woman appeared, his life had risen step by step as if watched over by an immortal.

He'd thought he was doing well, the head of a house, the guiding light of his brothers, the wonder-child who sheltered his clan, heh heh... and it turned out to be a great joke.

Pang Tu she'd killed, the household she'd cared for, the family fortune she'd earned, and what was he? A useless thing?

It seemed, truly, he was a useless thing.

With every hope dead in him, Chen Dasheng sat up, and a fragrant leg of venison was held out across in front of him.

Qi Qian'er, out of habit, bade him eat more.

"Eat up, and drink a little water too."

The venison steamed, fat dripping, and how scalding it must be?! How did this foolish woman dare touch anything at all?

Without thinking Chen Dasheng cried out, "Tsk, put it down, quick! Mind your hands, it's scalding!"

At his word "scalding," Qi Qian'er at once felt it scald, and dropped the venison leg on a rock and blew on her palm, and Chen Dasheng pulled her hand over and began to scold, and Qi Qian'er, hearing it, felt wronged all at once.

"Have you gone foolish, however scalding a thing... you just take it in your hand, your hand, your hand... and touch it?"

The two of them stared at each other dumbstruck, and Old Xin let out a scornful snort of a laugh.

"Ha!"

And then this one who could fly, could shatter boulders, who had a mountain and a temple of her own, who could shelter every martial house within five hundred li of Baiquan Mountain, the Elm-Tree Lady, looked at him, her whole face wronged, and said, "I don't want you to die, and An'er can't be without a father."

In that instant Chen Dasheng let go of all his tigers and immortals and dogs, and held the foolish woman and cared for nothing, only feeling that he'd likely truly wronged her, and not only this life, he'd probably owed her since the last.

They embraced and made up, and whispered together, and later Old Xin left, and no one knew when he'd gone. The old beggar had a fine eye for such things.

But Old Xin had said to him up in the tree that his wife likely didn't count as a martial-world person. What she was, even Old Xin didn't know. At any rate her origins were hidden, her background a wonder.

In short, the old beggar thanked him on behalf of all the martial-world folk under heaven?

What were they thanking him for?

Chen Dasheng could never forget those old eyes, full of sympathy and respect.

He looked him over, then looked at his wife's belly?

Pah! Wretched old beggar, what are you staring at?

Only after Old Xin had gone did his wife formally lay a hand on his baihui point and teach him her exclusive breath-gate method, but just what method was this?

Er, his wife said it was the rabbit method?

In an instant, rabbits of every kind passed one by one over the bronze mirror, the rabbit-lanterns of the fifteenth of the first month, the fat rabbits embroidered on the hems of children's skirts, the gray rabbits all over Baiquan Mountain...

A sound of turning over came from the kang, and Chen Dasheng gave a shudder, and Qi Qian'er murmured to him, "Chen Dasheng? Aren't you sleepy?"

Chen Dasheng turned to look at the small little heap under the quilt, and sighing at last went over, took off his shoes, took off his clothes, got under the quilt... and Qi Qian'er turned over and threw a leg across and climbed onto Chen Dasheng.

Chen Dasheng laid both hands meekly on his chest, looked at the roof-beam, and thought, ancestors all, Granny often says, why won't you send up a wisp of lucky smoke, but your grandson never knew you'd set the whole mountain ablaze... truly, what a mighty column of smoke.

The pair slept a whole morning through, and waking went back to their old selves. Qi Qian'er kept the house still, her eyes on nothing but household trifles, and as for Chen Dasheng, a heart full of cares... he did what he had to do.

Was he to go and die, then?

The day of leaving home drew nearer and nearer, and Yu Qingguan and the rest had quietly set their households in good order, and however loath at heart, if this world was to have peace, someone always had to come forward to shelter it.

In the blink of an eye a few days passed, and at dawn this day a line of fast horses raced out of Yanjing, and behind the horses a covered cart larger than the usual.

The cart came to the Ten-Mile Pavilion outside Yanjing, and the Martial Emperor Yang Zao got down leaning on Zhang Minwang's hand.

Chen Dasheng and the rest all got down from their horses and knelt before their sovereign to take their leave.

They wore escort-guards' clothes, disguised to leave the capital in secret.

The sovereign, hands behind his back, looked at the line where heaven met earth, the morning sun just rising.

Then he poured a cup of wine and said, "This first cup I pour to heaven and earth. That day they sent down heaven's chastisement to help me, Yang Zao, to the throne, so they must have their design. My dear subjects, perilous as your going is, you are to believe that our Great Liang is sheltered by heaven and earth, and you will surely return in triumph!"

They all poured out the wine.

"This second cup I pour to the innocent people of my Great Liang. I, Yang Zao, am without ability, and cannot avenge them with my own hand, yet today I swear before heaven and earth, and call heaven and earth to witness: today's shame I, Yang Zao, will repay a hundredfold, as an offering to the wronged souls of my people dead without cause."

They all poured out the wine.

The Martial Emperor turned to look at the generals before him, long without a word, and only when the proud spring sun had cast a stroke of gold over them did he straighten his robe and bow slightly to them. "Gentlemen, you must return in triumph."

Chen Dasheng and the rest kowtowed in awe, but the sovereign raised each of them up, poured them wine with his own hand, and they drained it at a draught and dashed down their cups.

Only now did Meng Dingchen and She Qingling come over to take their leave of them.

Chen Dasheng smiled, walked slowly up before his father, knelt as before and said with a smile, "Father! Your son is going. You, you must look after yourself, eat when you should, don't let your mind weigh so heavy, you're to be a grandfather now, you must cherish yourself well, your grandson coming into this world will need your teaching."

She Qingling's hands shook, a hundred tastes past bearing in his heart. He was not the child's true father, yet why, looking at this face, did it drag at his very vitals with pain.

He thought of the old days, when the boy knelt before him and said, could you teach me to read?

And later, the boy sitting at the edge of the vegetable garden with his face in his hands, laughing, standing at the palace gate smiling at him, carrying him down an endless corridor, and every sound the echo of his calling "Father"...

Father, father, oh Father... Father, your son is going...

What a fine child this was, and now to send him off with his own hands, to die?

Would he die?

The boy understood everything in his heart, surely, and still knelt before him to take his leave, his eyes full of a doting, calf-licking love.

He had to send him off. There was too much parting in this world. If the boy didn't go, what would become of this Great Liang, this realm?

"Set your heart at ease, my son, go!"

The tears fell in the end. She Qingling slowly breathed out, stroked Chen Dasheng's hair and raised him up, patted his shoulder, and sent him on his way.

Meng Dingchen looked at the four young, spirited faces before him. When he'd brought them out of the south, he'd meant to look after dear nephews, to give these boys a great fortune, and never dreamed that before the fortune came there'd be years of hard knocks, and that this would be the end of it.

These eleven brave men faced an ancient tribal nation a thousand years in the founding. Would they come back?

Seeing the chief warden without a word, Xie Wuhao for his part took it lightly, and turning to tighten his horse's girth said as he worked, "Uncle Meng, don't feel you've wronged us. The truth is we few are rather glad of it in our hearts."

Meng Dingchen was taken aback. "Glad?"

Xie Wuhao patted his horse's neck and turned with a smile. "Ai! Glad. It feels like this life of mine is truly worth something now. Before, we were nothing but weeds of the martial world, and all our house's dozen-odd generations' striving was for empty, drifting names not fit for the light of day. The funniest part is, we actually thought that was holding lightly to fame and gain, and set ourselves up as men of honor?"

Meng Dingchen sighed. Everyone in this world had his own Way to hold to, and his was to bring the southern martial world into the court, that with real skill in hand one should not set apart close from distant, nor high from low, but decide all by the law alone, that was the true road of the human world.

But who could have thought it would be so hard.

Qingfeng had no city gate, and as the sun rose, old country farmers driving donkey-carts, carrying people into the city, passed by them. One highroad with countless forks, and the thronging crowd converging on one thing, their daily bread.

This was the mouth of Yanjing of Great Liang, and life under the Son of Heaven's feet was peaceful and serene. A border city lost was a thing tens of thousands of li away, and the lord emperor was here, and the lord emperor wasn't alarmed, so everyone lived their days just as they'd always lived them.

The people grew more and more, and the Emperor and the others went into the Ten-Mile Pavilion.

An old farmer, a plow on his shoulder, led a sturdy ox, and on the ox's back rode two small children, and the three passed smiling before them all and went off toward the field-ridges beyond.

From the sovereign to the generals, every heart felt, for no clear reason, an envy of such ease.

Xie Wuhao said, "If my death could buy the people of the realm such a smile, then man of honor or not, that's all it comes to, don't you think, Uncle Meng?"

Meng Dingchen had been out of the monastery many years, but just then he suddenly pressed his palms together and intoned, Amitabha.

The Emperor looked at his brave men, loath at heart to part with them too. These few boys had grown up day by day at his very feet, and the world's course is hard to foretell, and who'd have thought it would come to this.

Guan Si'er hung his long saber in place, and seeing everyone low, bounded up before the Emperor and said with a smile, "Your Majesty, I've a thing to ask of you."

This was the youngest child of the old sabers, and the one of the most storied fate. He'd been warm in his birth parents' arms only a few days.

Hearing he had a request, the Emperor's mood lifted somehow, and he asked with a smile, "What is it? If it's your family's business, rest easy, Master Gong is high in virtue and repute, and I've a mind to entrust the Imperial College to him..."

"No!" Guan Si'er licked his lips a little shyly, and smiled sheepishly. "It's not that, Your Majesty. You know, I've a betrothed at home still in mourning."

Oh, so this was what he meant.

The Emperor laughed and nodded. "Oh, this. I understand, rest easy, I'll see her well looked after too. When my Marquis Gong returns in triumph tomorrow, I'll give you..."

"That's not it!" Guan Si'er broke in, smiling still like a little sun. "Your Majesty, that Miss Ge has had a bitter fate enough. I'd thought, I was all alone and she was all alone, and she didn't scorn me, so we'd just make do together and that would do... But she's so young, and has a fine dowry, and if one day... I can't come back, then help me, Your Majesty, find her a good family, best of all the kind that won't mind her hard fate..."

The Emperor, between laughing and aching, said, "This is what you ask of me?"

But Guan Si'er nodded in earnest. "Ai! It's just this I can't rest easy about. Everyone gets but one life, and it won't do that without so much as a slip of paper, a good girl should keep widowhood for me..."

Chen Dasheng gave the back of his brother's head a slap and apologized to the Emperor. "Don't take it amiss, Your Majesty, this lad's head was never big enough, all day off the string, thinking all manner of muddled thoughts. Rest easy, Your Majesty, it's not as perilous as you fear. The Tan, as I see them, are only beasts given a man's shape besides. Use me, and I will surely win, surely return!!"

In that instant a figure flashed before the Emperor's eyes, who at every setting-out had stood before the great army and said to him, spirit soaring, "Rest easy, sworn brother, your brother goes and will surely come home in great victory!"

Then Tan the Second was gone, and Dasheng came.

Both of them said to him, surely return.

A boundless ardor rose in the Martial Emperor Yang Zao's heart, as if his sworn brother stood before him again. He rose, patted Chen Dasheng's shoulder, and as in the old days seeing off a beloved war-general, set each of their horse-trappings to rights, checked the horseshoes, checked the soft armor in the bundles...

Say however many words, they must part in the end. The lucky hour had come, and She Qingling himself raised the long incense to lead the offering, and led them all in bowing to the gods of the four quarters, begging them shelter Great Liang for a thousand autumns, ten thousand generations...

The company of war-generals at last mounted and raised their whips, and passing the mouth of Qingfeng city, an old beggar suddenly barred the way before the horse, made as if to speak and stopped.

Chen Dasheng bent down, and heard Old Xin whisper at his ear, "Brave sir, take all care of yourself, be sure, be sure to come back alive."

Chen Dasheng blinked, taken aback.

But Old Xin said, "Brave sir, if that wife of yours is widowed, she'll surely rage, and her raging matters little in itself, but the realm will fall into chaos, and once it does someone will surely set himself against your wife, and the setting-against matters little either, but then one fears the blood will run in rivers, and no one will be able to hold her back..."

Chen Dasheng looked back at his brothers, and for a moment didn't know what to say. He fished a piece of broken silver from his pocket and pressed it into Old Xin's hand, pulled down the brim of his hat, and took his leave of him.

As the horses passed down the long street, Qi Qian'er, who knew not what had gotten into her today, had actually gathered a crowd of women to go walking through the market.

Tong Jintai's daughter stretched out her chubby hand and grabbed a peachwood sword and wooden saber off a stall-rack and wouldn't let go.

Zhang Wanru said with a smile, "Mother's sweet girl, you're a girl, don't go learning these things from your papa. When you're grown, Mother will teach you to read your books and embroider your flowers..."

Halfway through her words she was tugged aside by Qi Qian'er, and a troop of escort-guards on horseback passed, crossing paths with this group of women whose lives were safe and sound and whose eyes were full of happiness...