The Pidgin Warrior Page 5

  He was stunned. He blew out a long breath and returned to his own room.

  “Truly it was excellent gongfu—The mud-pellet was so accurate!”

  Hanging out of the third floor window was Shi Zhaowu: After seeing his brother leave, he laughed loudly, then picked up the second mud-pellet and hurled it at a coachman by the street.

  4

  The Subjugation of the Cook

  If mud-pellets had the minds of scholars, there would certainly be some fatalists among them. Just as with mud-pellets, fates are different. For example, the second mud-pellet that Shi Zhaowu’s threw fell next to a coach. When the coach departed, it was crushed underneath. Early the next morning, the street-sweeper swept up its corpse and buried it in the garbage can. But the one that fell on Shi Zhaochang was so much more fortunate: it was ever-so-respectfully picked up by Shi Zhaochang and then carried upstairs into his room.

  Shi Zhaochang stared at it for five or six minutes.

  It was a very ordinary mud-pellet: Yellow, a little damp, soft to the touch. Ah, luckily it wasn’t hard. Otherwise it might have raised a huge lump, or even taken his life. But of course it couldn’t. The woman warrior had just displayed a little skill for him to see. Someone cared for him a great deal.

  He pulled a brocaded box from a case, took out a piece of jade that was inside, and placed the mud-pellet in it. He looked around then, clasping the box, he walked to his bed with the stride of a Daoist presenting a treasure before hiding it under his pillow.

  Outside, the wind blew. The window shutters were blown open and closed, the room suddenly dark and then suddenly light. The memorial portrait of Yue Fei that hung on the wall jumped, and then a long wind blew in, bending the portrait out like the arch of a bridge. This made Yue Fei’s stomach stick out so high it looked like he was pregnant.

  Shi Zhaochang’s brows furrowed as he glanced at Yue Fei and went to close the window. But the latch was broken, it wouldn’t close.

  On the balcony across the alley, there were several pink underthings flapping around.

  “Ladies underwear right there!”

  Shanghainese were truly reprehensible. What could he do? Let the wind blow ladies underwear right over onto Yue Fei’s Face?

  He closed his eyes and dropped his face.

  “To look at them is an offence… It’s just too much: Ladies underwear just hung just…”

  But he had some kind of problem: As if drawn by a lead, Shi Zhaochang simply couldn’t forget those little pink panties. He glanced around without moving his head at all.

  Couldn’t see them.

  What if Guan Yu could see them? Guan Yu’s eyesight is keen: he has phoenix eyes!

  What was he doing putting this on Guan Yu, damnit!

  Shi Zhaochang hesitated three minutes before moving his head to sneak a look. He immediately looked at Yue Fei, as if in fear that he would know. But Yue Fei just kept puffing out his belly and didn’t pay any attention.

  He suddenly thought of that Woman Warrior of National Salvation: did she wear a pair like that…

  He forced his mind to focus. That kind of useless thinking could easily lead to disaster. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the moment before the woman warrior had left: Smiling like this, bending like this, lifting her hand like this—and a flying shot!

  Someone’s gongfu was better than his.

  He placed his hands behind his back and began to pace with his head bent down so he was looking at his feet. He really wanted to tell Brother Hu Genbao about the Woman Warrior. Soon he was grumbling that the Supreme Ultimate Master still hadn’t arrived. He had to learn quickly so that he could demonstrate some skill to his Thirteenth Sister. Then they could go off together to do great things.

  He sighed.

  “It must be quickly.”

  But for now, he had to do his daily exercises lest he lose those boxing techniques. At eight in the evening he would add another few patterns to his exercise.

  He took off his mouse-grey gown and threw it on the bed and then stood reverently. A breeze came in from the window and his body broke out in goose-pimples. His eyes were pointed directly at the balcony over there. But he couldn’t see clearly if the pink shorts were hanging there or not.

  Suddenly—he crouched down in a squat, arched his back as much as he could, like a monkey. His eyes seemed to burn with fury. He stretched his foot forward then pulled his hand out into open space to follow. In this way step by step he crouched his way to the window and then turned around.

  After going back and forth ten-or-so times, Shi Zhaochang rubbed his legs.

  “Ah, a little softer.”—Those who study internal gongfu demand their muscles be soft.

  Next he took out a few sets of metal rings from a basket and put them on his arms and desperately started to describe lines in the air.

  The long hand on the desk clock was pointing at the “X.” He faced a pillar set into the wall and began his attack: he struck with the backs of his hand, struck with his fingers, his fists, his palms—Pai! Dong! Pi!

  Only when the clock with its heavy sound struck nine did Shi Zhaochang pull back. The backs of his hands were reddened as if he had put on rouge. There was some white spots too. Every finger ached like they had been cut open.

  He rubbed his hands, smiling.

  “That’s nothing. Doesn’t hurt at all.” He said to himself.

  Then he switched his breathing—His stomach puffed out, then sunk in: Those who practice internal gongfu naturally don’t breathe using their lungs. But it was uncommonly hard to take. It seemed like suffocation from covering someone’s nose and mouth. His eyes rolled back in head several times.

  Skilled people don’t perhaps pant quite so much.

  No. His cotton pants and jacket were so tight they made him pant.

  He circled the room.

  Downstairs the old women were yelling about something, interspersed with Shi Zhaowu’s loud laughter. Suddenly a voice rose above:

  “Madam! Look at Second Master!”

  “Pai!”—The sound of a palm hitting flesh.

  “Second Master hit me! Ai ya! What kind of behavior!”

  “Haha haha!” The laughter became sharp and staccato. “Thigh! Haha haha! Haha!”

  Shi Zhaochang furrowed his brow, but with a supreme effort, calmed himself down. He spread out his leather gown, sat cross-legged on the bed, and closed his eyes.

  The shout of Little Wang, the cook, reached him from downstairs: “Second Master, how could you…”

  The meditating man carefully said to himself, “I didn’t hear. I didn’t hear.”

  He took in a lungful of air, but didn’t let a bit of it out. Then he flexed his arm as much as he could. He opened his eyes halfway to look at it. He wanted so badly to test to see how much force his arm had. This was only elementary gongfu. It wouldn’t be easy to train up to the skill level of someone like Gan Fengchi.

  Little Wang’s voice came up from downstairs again: “Second Master, what are you doing stealing my money! I’ll tell Madam!”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Give it back… Second Master, what are… you! I’m going upstairs to tell Madam!”

  The sound of chaotic footsteps. It was probably Little Wang trying to get up the stairs to tell madam and Shi Zhaowu trying to block him.

  “You wouldn’t dare! If you take a step upstairs, I’ll chop you into pieces!”

  The swish of a cleaver.

  The cook’s sharp wild scream.

  “Second Master is trying to kill me! Second Master!”

  “I’ll chop you into pieces!”

  “Second Master!”

  Someone ran off. It sounded like Shi Zhaowu.

  Little Wang yelled upstairs, “A young master steals a chef’s silver, and then came at me with a cleaver! Hmph! Master! I’ll ha
ve my say on this. Should a cook be bullied by a young master? Dammit a young master stealing money, trying to murder, it’s just…”

  After this last, Shi Zhaozhang couldn’t help but jump up. He rushed to the door and stood at the stairs. He pointed at Little Wang who was coming up the stairs and shouted, “What did you say?! What did you say, you!”

  The cook stood at the turn of the stairs with eyes wide open and left arm covered in blood: “Just now Second Master…”

  “I know!” Shi Zhaochang stared him down, spitting the words at him. “If Second Master has gotten into trouble, then Master or Madam will give him a talking to. To have you say anything, you!”

  “Did I say anything wrong?”

  The Elder Mister Shi and Madam rushed down from the third floor. Liu Fu, the wet nurse, and the servants all thronged at the front of the stairs.

  Shi Zhaowu pushed through the servants and stood in front of them.

  Shi Zhaochang made a fist with his left hand and pointed at the cook with his right. “Second Master has Master and Madam to discipline him, what do we need you to say anything! Do you or do you not know your place, you! You do know what kind of person you are, you!”

  “Second Master stole five dollars in notes: it was the money I asked to borrow from Madam last night. I wasn’t… wasn’t… Second Master cut me…”

  “Shut your mouth!” Shi Zhaochang bellowed. He was so furious that he nearly passed out. “You know what you said: Where do you get the place to speak! Second Master is your master. What is a cook like you talking for! There must be order among people. Bastards who don’t understand their place ought to be killed with a cleaver: That’s why Second Master can take a cleaver to you!”

  Shi Zhaowu applauded from down below: “Kill him! Kill him!”

  The cook stared blankly for a moment. Then with a sobbing cry, “How? He steals my money and it’s me who gets the chop! You all live here and eat here at my place, I have to speak up about this, dammit, I…”

  Shi Zhaochang charged down and put all his might into one blow: The cook tumbled down the stairs.

  “People who don’t know their place should be killed! I promise to cleanse the world of them—those bastards that don’t know their betters! You all remember this: I will defeat any injustice, I must…”

  Just then his stepmother interrupted him with her sharp voice, “Second Master has been a bit disruptive. Of course we’ll take care of him. What are you—a cook—saying? It’s not like you weren’t aware of Second Master’s temper. You should have put the money away safely. How can a person handle the pans and stove if he can’t even handle his own money? It’s infuriating! A person has a temper and you keep at him. Of course he’s not going to get along with you—You don’t even understand that! And here you are saying all this… all this..”

  It seemed like she was trying to quote some classical phrase, but just couldn’t remember it, so licking her lips she jumped into her next speech:

  “When Second Master is sixteen, he will do out and do great things, leading soldiers and fighting the XX too, so now you should… You should that…”

  A gust whipped in across her hair revealing her scar and she immediately gathered the hair back to cover it up, but only to have it blown away again.

  “It’s so maddening!” She muttered, sticking out her right arm for The Elder Mister Shi to take and guide her back up to the second floor.

  Little Wang had been grumbling the entire time.

  “…I have to speak up about this, I have to speak up about this: stole my money, chopped at me, and then called in other people, didn’t he? I’m putting my life on the line…”

  But Liu Fu pulled at him hard and made him leave.

  “Listen to me!” Shi Zhaochang said to the old women who had raised their hands at the bottom of the stairs. “A person must know their place, know their betters. Those that don’t are following the path of Evil. Evil must be killed and hacked at…”

  Everyone was silent. There was only the sound of his voice in the entire building—echoing off the walls.

  He felt that he should say something more, but he couldn’t’ think of anything else to say. To just shut up like that was a little too… He looked at them for a while, rubbing his hands together and trying his best to look like he couldn’t care less, he walked upstairs.

  “What a pity that Little Wang is lost on the evil path!”

  He walked with a steady gait and sat by the table.

  What really happened with Little Wang?

  If he really had gone Evil, Little Wang must have a master—some evil monk or something like that. He might have all kinds of dark sorcery. But as soon as Good shows up, it won’t have a chance.

  For two hours, Shi Zhaochang leaned on the table. He pushed his hands at his temples so that his eyebrows and the corners of his eyes were lifted up. The eyebrows of martial arts heroes were always lifted up like that. Just like the wusheng in the operas, he planned to find success through work.

  There was a sudden crash from the window.

  What! He was startled. Who could be sure it wasn’t Little Wang coming for revenge!

  He stood up and lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the dazzling lamplight to look toward the window. Nothing was there.

  “Hm. Wind.”

  But after having given Little Wang such a lesson, he would certainly come for revenge. And he had that evil master. The master and disciple would probably come to do him in: Evil and Good can never coexist.

  Maybe it was cold or something else, but he shivered.

  He wanted to close the window. But he couldn’t be sure that Evil was lurking out there. His heart raced. His head felt swollen.

  “Someone cast a spell on me!”

  He retreated a step. His leg knocked over the chair that was behind him—Bam!

  Come at me! He immediately leaped away landing facing the chair in a perfect horse stance with his hands in a ready position.

  The chair laid there motionless.

  “Hehe. The sorcerer must fear my Goodness!” Shi Zhaochang laughed. “I have no fear of your tactics!”

  He stood up. His legs trembled slightly. If the sorcerer had used a secret flying blade…

  In the books, they say “A spear thrust is easy to evade in the light; an arrow in the dark is hard to defend against.” Moreover, Shi Zhaochang’s gongfu wasn’t very profound. If the master and disciple were to put one over on him, well, there is a phrase for that too: “mortal peril.”

  But Shi Zhaochang pulled all his strength together and laughed toward the window: “I’ll let you go this time!”

  The words echoed back to him. Then suddenly the bamboo poles on someone’s balcony—Crack! And then the shutters slammed shut with a crash. And that was nothing. The shutters opened right up again, and they weren’t open for more than a few seconds before slamming shut again. And it went on slamming open, slamming closed. Open, close.

  Shi Zhaochang leapt to the bed. A chill went through his entire body, and every hair stood up straight. His heart was pounding fit to burst.

  What could he do! He looked at Yue Fei: Yue Fei just puffed out his belly again, paying no attention to this struggle. Was he, Shi Zhaochang to end like this? Sent to his death by the evil master and his disciple for nothing?

  He recalled that filth can be used to counter evil sorcery, but there was no chamber pot in his room. There wasn’t one in the entire house. There was only the flush toilet in the bathroom—flushed clean with not even a drop of urine in it. This was all the fault of the damn foreigners. They didn’t know anything: not even the usefulness of filth.

  “Dammit!”

  There was one thing more effective than filth at countering evil sorcery: women’s underwear. But he didn’t have any. Men’s underwear was clean, so it was useless. Where could he get some? He remembered the pi
nk shorts from the other balcony, and that reminded him of the Woman Warrior. If the Woman Warrior could give him a pair… But of course she wouldn’t: They weren’t on those kind of terms yet.

  Then in a flash of insight, he remembered another thing that was equally effective. He picked up a copy of the Daoist scripture The Tract of the Most Exalted on Action and Response.

  He worried about someone coming up behind him, so he put his back against the wall. His face was drained of color, and he panted out his breath. His hands, dripping with sweat, gripped the book.

  The electric light swung and so his shadow wavered back and forth. He didn’t dare even look at it.

  He was not resigned to dying like this. He still had his great enterprise. He hoped that in this moment of extreme danger, Brother Hu Genbao would appear to save him. The Woman Warrior of National Salvation would come too, shooting her missiles at the sorcerer. It was the Will of Heaven that he, Shi Zhaochang would save the people of the world. He could not die. Perhaps at that very moment, the Supreme Ultimate Master was sitting on some mountaintop having a sudden premonition, and just like that is calling Hu Genbao to come and bring their arts to bear against the sorcerer.

  He stood like that for twenty minutes or so. He didn’t move a muscle. He breathed out, “hmph. In the end he doesn’t dare come closer!”

  It sounded like something from a book. Judge Bao didn’t have any magic, but he was an upright man. Sorcerers feared him.

  Shi Zhaochang left his wall and lifted up that chair that had fallen. With all his effort, he forced an unconcerned façade.

  But he still couldn’t stop worrying about what Little Wang had suffered, that couldn’t amount to nothing. In the life of a great hero, there were always a few setbacks, perhaps he, Shi Zhaochang this evening might…

  Ah, he still needed to look into the disturbance.

  He opened up a small leather case and pulled out a package—on the package were written two words: “Stealth Suit.” He then cautiously opened the package, picked up the stealth suit in his hand and gave it a look over.

  The stealth suit was a deep blue color. The pants and top were connected in one piece. Around the waist were three red stripes. Inside on the upper part were two foreign numbers in yellow: “36.” At the collar on a square of white cloth was written: