Master Liu and the Deaf-Mute Girl

Wind back a hundred-odd years, and practicing martial arts was really much the same as studying books: both were paths to making a living. Scholars endured ten years of bitter toil by the cold window, and martial artists spent years in grueling training and contemplation, all striving to make a name for themselves. Yet a martial man had more options than a scholar. Those of great skill could sit for the imperial military examinations. The slightly lesser ones could serve under some prince or nobleman as an instructor guarding the estate, or work as escorts for wealthy merchants. Those with a bit of temperament simply made their living in martial circles—escorting caravans, licking blood from blade edges, and braving the ways of the jianghu. Naturally, there were also the ruthless and black-hearted who gathered in the mountains and forests to rob travelers on the roads, turning into local bandits, outlaws, and mounted brigands. And if all else failed, one could always do manual labor. Yet by any honest reckoning, it was only during the transition from the late Qing to the early Republic that the word "kung fu" truly began to ring out across the land. Master civil and martial skills, and sell them to the imperial court. Beijing and Tianjin teemed with nobles, officials, and extraordinary talents. Countless people from all across the realm flocked there in pursuit of profit and fame. Over time, the region naturally turned into a tiger's den and a dragon's pool. This reached its absolute peak when the nation was on the brink of ruin and the world was plunged into turmoil—a spectacle never seen before. Adepts from all corners of the northern martial realm converged on Beijing and Tianjin. A hundred flowers bloomed and every school contended. Everyone wanted to rise to the top, and no one would yield to another, competing and clashing with fist and foot for supremacy. And so arose a martial arts haven that shook the jianghu: Cangzhou. Not only was it adjacent to Beijing and Tianjin, but Cangzhou had produced an astonishing number of masters. More than that, half the sects of northern martial arts had spread outward from here before making a name for themselves in the capital, where they flourished and grew strong. ... Cangzhou, Hebei. Across the glistening white snow, a young man walked along, observing his surroundings. A cloth satchel slung across his chest, he wore a Lei Feng cap, navy-blue padded cotton coat and trousers, and a pair of Liberation shoes. Withered boughs along the street were laden with snow, and old trees crusted with frost. In this world of ice and snow, many people were kicking shuttlecocks or practicing their punches. Paired with the year-end holiday spirit, the atmosphere was lively and festive beyond measure. Having just arrived in Cangzhou, Lian Youming naturally took a stroll around first. He went to see the famous Great Iron Lion and enjoyed some donkey burgers. Yet as he passed an open clearing in a park, he noticed a group of people sitting on the ground despite the freezing cold. Cross-legged, each held an aluminum pot and inverted it onto their head, muttering incomprehensible incantations under their breath. Filled with curiosity, Lian Youming walked over. "What's all this about?" Someone beside him said with great excitement, "You don't even know about qigong? These are high-level qigong masters who've reached a certain attainment! What they're wearing is called a signal receiver. It lets you sense the cosmic energy fields and cultivate supernatural powers!" Lian Youming stared at the boneheads with aluminum cooking pots on their heads, utterly dumbfounded. Shaking his head, he was just about to turn and leave when he heard someone sigh in admiration, "This is the cultivation method passed down from Master Liu of the Youming Sect! I hear it's miraculously effective." "Youming Sect? Master Liu?" For reasons he couldn't explain, hearing those words gave Lian Youming a sudden, intense premonition of bad news. He instinctively asked, "Which Master Liu?" A middle-aged woman with a pot on her head suddenly opened her eyes. Assuming the aloof air of an enlightened master, she said coldly, "You don't even know Master Liu? He's a grandmaster who can exhale clouds and mist and summon objects through thin air! In a few days, he's coming to our martial arts cradle to exchange insights." "What's his name?" "Not sure. All I know is his surname is Liu, from up in the Northeast. Seems he used to be a village doctor, but then an enlightened master gave him guidance. In a flash of enlightenment, he founded the Youming Sect. He can exhale clouds and mist, and pluck things out of thin air!" Hearing the chatter from the crowd, Lian Youming froze, his vision nearly going black. Youming Sect? The Northeast? A village doctor? Guided by an enlightened master? Exhaling clouds and mist? For some uncanny reason, hearing this string of strange yet familiar words instantly brought Big Head Liu of Kaoshan Hamlet to mind. Glancing back at the crowd practicing qigong—good grief, there were at least seventy or eighty people. Quite an impressive gathering. Beside them was another group practicing qigong under the name of some Master Li. After exchanging a few sharp words, the two sides fell out. Squaring up into stances, they began projecting their qi at each other, their eyes bugging out wide as though trying to glare the other side to death. Eventually, an old man on the other side gave out from sheer physical exhaustion and collapsed to the ground, prompting immediate cheers from Master Liu's faction. "Master Liu's qigong really is incredible!!" Lian Youming stood frozen in place, clutching his face in anguish. It's over. Thousands of li away, and that man still didn't spare me... Big Head Liu, damn your hide! He didn't linger. Turning on his heel, he left the park. For now, this was small potatoes. The urgent task was to finish the matter at hand before tracking down Big Head Liu to settle accounts. Otherwise, with a commotion of this scale, things could get very troublesome if it blew up. When Big Head Liu's cheap sleight of hand got exposed and the authorities asked, "Why did you name it the Youming Sect?" The old rascal might well rat him out: "Oh, the grandmaster I met back then was none other than..." Then everything would truly be ruined. ... Leaving the park, with no time to dwell on it, Lian Youming planned to go check on Xie Laosan's granddaughter first. Following the address Xie Laosan had left, he wound his way through the streets and eventually came to the vicinity of a mosque. "North Great Mosque, Dashi Bridge, Yihe Street..." Yet after circling several times, he simply couldn't find the spot. Several people he asked said they had never heard of it. Only after finally coaxing a shred of information from an elderly local did he learn that the names Xie Laosan had given were all outdated designations from years ago. Many places had been demolished or renamed, and many residents had moved away; the area had long since changed beyond recognition. "Xie Laosan really is completely unreliable." Lian Youming's head was spinning from walking in circles. After an extensive search, not only had no one heard of anyone named Xie, but even when he asked about a deaf-mute girl, nobody had a clue. With no other choice, he inquired where the displaced residents had relocated. Fortunately, he managed to unearth a useful lead: a portion of them had been relocated together near a commercial street downtown. "If I can't find her, don't blame me, Xie Laosan—I truly did my best." Lian Youming hurried toward the new location. Dongfeng Market. When he arrived, he found the relatively narrow street packed with people. A dense, dark sea of crowds had jammed it solid—it was bustling to the extreme. Lian Youming found an open seat at a roadside stall, ordered a bowl of lao doufu, and watched the crowd while he ate. The stall keeper was a middle-aged woman wearing a floral apron, her hands covered in chaps and chilblains. Strapped to her back was a swaddled infant about a year old, looking around with innocent curiosity from its mother's back. A ladle of savory gravy was poured over the snowy-white tofu, whetting Lian Youming's appetite. As he ate, he asked, "Sister, could I ask you about someone?" Busy with her hands, the woman replied, "Go ahead, little brother." Lian Youming said, "Is there a deaf-mute girl around here who can't speak? About my age, or maybe a bit older..." Before he could finish, the woman blurted out, "Oh! You mean that deaf girl selling buttons down south! Can't say a word, just makes hand signs all day. And her mother is a harsh piece of work—remarried with the girl in tow, but won't even look after her, doesn't care one bit..." As if a floodgate had opened, the vendor couldn't stop talking, rambling on and on. "Folks say the girl ended up like that as retribution—someone in her family did evil deeds." Lian Youming didn't chime in, just listened as he ate. Just as he was finishing the bowl of tofu, the vendor suddenly said, "There, see her? The girl carrying the button box... She's truly pretty, a real shame she's mute." Lian Youming turned to look. Weaving through the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd came a frail young girl. Her clothes were a bit thin for the cold, and two braids rested on her shoulders. In her arms she held a button box filled with assorted colorful buttons and hair clips, with a small sign propped at the edge showing the prices. Along the way, schoolgirls gathered around the box to pick through the goods, trading hand signs with her; they seemed quite familiar with one another. The vendor remarked from the side, "That little girl has a sharp mind. Knowing her buttons are pricey and ordinary folks won't splurge, she specifically hangs around those schoolgirls." Lian Youming said softly, "Then it looks like she gets by alright." "Gets by?" The woman shook her head. "That girl has her sights set high. By dealing with those schoolgirls, she trades for a lot of books. But tell me, when she can neither hear nor speak, isn't that just a waste of effort?" Lian Youming had originally intended only to catch a distant glimpse. Just as Xie Laosan had asked, he wouldn't disturb her; so long as she lived comfortably enough, his promise would be fulfilled. But hearing the vendor's words, he raised an eyebrow and took another look. Sure enough, some students were trading second-hand books they had read for her wares. Only after Xie Laosan's granddaughter had drifted into the distance did Lian Youming follow. Something was off about her. Not her identity. Lian Youming watched the button box in her hands. Although a strap looped over her shoulder, she carried the box rock-steady the entire way. She clearly possessed martial arts skill. Hand technique... Eagle Claw martial art? Tsk, tsk. Xie Laosan couldn't have misremembered his own granddaughter, could he? Besides, the true essence of internal martial arts was not something one could grasp simply by watching. Without understanding the written words and their deeper meanings, without knowing the critical junctures, how could anyone fathom the martial path? What was more, with three of her seven apertures blocked, how could she have mastered the art? Faking it? At the thought, Lian Youming's eyes flashed, but his footsteps paused. Whether she was faking or not, what did it have to do with him? As long as she was alive and had food and clothing, wasn't that enough? Besides, knowing martial arts was a good thing; at least she wouldn't be bullied. Lian Youming instinctively patted his pocket. There was still over two thousand yuan inside. It was mostly in case she was hard-pressed, so he could honor Xie Laosan's plea and lend a hand; he wasn't stingy. Yet seeing that she intentionally concealed herself, Lian Youming dismissed the idea. He was already bogged down with matters, and a battle of life and death loomed right before him. He couldn't afford any more complications. He watched until the girl stepped into a small courtyard, and only then did Lian Youming turn to leave. But he had walked no more than ten or twenty meters when his eyes shifted subtly. Glancing back at the surroundings of the courtyard, his tiger eyes slowly narrowed. "Damn it, just how many enemies did Xie Laosan make?" After a moment's thought, Lian Youming broke into a wry, peculiar grin. Turning back, he strode up to the courtyard gate and knocked. Since he had come all this way, he might as well say hello to these jianghu travelers.