Initially, the horse didn’t seem unduly affected at all. But gradually, its head drooped and its legs bowed as it curled, paralysed, into a ball on the ground – where, in the end, it died. This was a sturdy horse from a renowned Mongolian breed; although it wasn’t as fabulous as the treasured blood-sweating horse, it was still a fine, muscular animal, strong-boned and with a high, bulky body. But with just one wave of Huang Yaoshi’s palm, it had died under his hand. Martial arts this extreme were a rare sight indeed. The hearts of Tuolei, Zhu Cong and all the others were pounding wildly; if, they thought, this hand had struck Huazheng, how would she have survived?
Huang Yaoshi hadn’t expected his daughter would actually take action and rescue Huazheng. He was stunned for a moment, before understanding why: if he killed the barbarian girl, Guo Jing would surely turn against his daughter, and they’d become enemies. He snorted, thinking: “To turn against is to turn against; how could I even be scared of this boy?” But with one glance at his daughter, he saw her expression was one of misery and pain, but obviously also of feeling intertwined with someone in a thousand ways – unable to part, unable to leave. Deep down, he couldn’t help trembling: this was exactly the same look that his wife, on the verge of death, had on her face. Huang Rong had always been very similar in looks to her departed mother. Back then, that emotional event had affected Huang Yaoshi like a dementia, like a madness; although it had been fifteen years, every day since it was as if it was still right before his very eyes. Now, to see it suddenly appear on his daughter’s face, made him realise that her feelings of love for Guo Jing were already rooted bone-deep. Reflecting that this was precisely the natural character of her father and mother – self-willed and disposed towards irresolvable passion – he gave a long sigh, and intoned:
“Earth and heaven
Are a stove,
Nature is the worker!
Yin and Yang are
As charcoal,
Thousand things are copper!”
Huang Rong stood still, teardrops falling slowly.
Han Baoju gave Zhu Cong’s lapels a tug. “What’s he singing about?” he asked, in a whisper.
“It’s from a composition written by someone called Jia, during the Han Dynasty,” answered Zhu Cong, also whispering. “It’s saying that existence on this world – for mankind and the ten thousand creatures – is an anguish just like that of suffering incineration inside a huge furnace.”
“He’s trained to such a high standard!” spluttered Han Baoju. “What anguish can he have?”
Zhu Cong, shaking his head, gave no response.
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Eagle Shooting Hero
“Rong’er,” said Huang Yaoshi gently, “after we go back, you are never to see this boy again.”
“Dad, no!” said Huang Rong. “I still have to get to Yuezhou. Teacher told me to go and be the Chief of the Beggar Gang.”
Huang Yaoshi smiled faintly. “Being the head of the tramps,” he said, “is a serious hassle, and it’s not much fun.”
“I promised teacher I’d do it,” said Huang Rong.
“Well, try it out for a few days, then,” sighed Huang Yaoshi. “When you’re really sick of it, hand it over to another straight away. And afterwards…are you going to see this boy or not?”
Huang Rong took a glance at Guo Jing and saw him gazing back at her. The look in his eyes was one of overflowing tenderness, of a love infinite in depth. She turned her head back towards her father.
“Dad,” she said, “he’s going to marry someone else; so I’ll marry someone else, too. I’m the only one in his heart, just as he’s the only one in my heart.”
Huang Yaoshi laughed. “The daughter of Peach Blossom Island cannot lose out, so that’s not too bad. Now, suppose the man you marry doesn’t let you be friends with him…?”
Huang Rong gave a snort. “Who’d dare to stop me?” she said. “I’m your daughter!”
“Silly girl!” said Huang Yaoshi. “It won’t be a few more years before dad dies.”
“Dad!” sobbed Huang Rong. “The way you treat me, would I really be able to live on for much longer?”
“So are you still going to be with this heartless, faithless boy?” enquired Huang Yaoshi.
“Each extra day I stay with him is an extra day of happiness,” said Huang Rong. She said this gently, but with an expression of utter misery.
While father and daughter asked and answered each other like this, the Jiangnan Freaks – despite being eccentric in character – couldn’t help but listen agape. In the Song era, the proscriptions advised by propriety were followed with the most particularity; but because Huang Yaoshi was a man who ‘opposed Tang and Wu and despised Zhou and Kong’ and who perversely went against the conventions of the age, it had led to everyone calling him by the given title of “Eastern Heretic”.
As for Huang Rong, she’d been moulded by her father since youth, and regarded marriage as marriage and love as love; when had thoughts of rectitude and chastity ever passed through her little head? This kind of conversation, shocking by the standards of the time, would set tongues wagging incessantly in disapproval among anyone overhearing it. But father and daughter were even talking as if it were only natural – just like common, idle, household chat. Despite the open-mindedness of Ke Zhen’e and the others, they couldn’t help shaking their heads quietly.
Guo Jing, who was feeling very bad, wanted to say a few comforting words to Huang Rong, but he’d always been wooden in speech. Now, he knew even less what was the right thing to say.
Huang Yaoshi glanced at his daughter, then glanced at Guo Jing. Lifting his head towards the Eagle Shooting Hero
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heavens, he suddenly roared long and loud. The sound shook the treetops and echoed from the mountain valley, startling some magpies; they rose in a flock and flew around the forest.
“Magpies, magpies!” called out Huang Rong. “The cowherd meets the weaving-girl tonight. Why no hurry to build the bridge?”
Huang Yaoshi grabbed a handful of loose stones from the ground and hurled them up into the air.
One by one, a dozen magpies dropped, most dying where they fell. “What bridge is there to build?”
shouted Huang Yaoshi. “Deep passion, great love: all empty fantasy in the end. More fitting that it die an early death!” He spun around and floated off. In just the space of a blink, the others saw his blue-robed figure disappear beyond the back of the woods.
Tuolei hadn’t understood what they’d been talking about; he knew only that Guo Jing was unwilling to turn his back on agreements from the past. “Brother,” he said, happily, “here’s hoping you soon succeed with your big objective. See you again when you’re back north!”
Huazheng added: “Keep this pair of white eagles by your side, and come back someday soon!”
Guo Jing nodded his head. “Tell my mum,” he said, “that I’m sure I’ll put the enemy to the blade, and get revenge for father.”
Zhebie and Bo’erhu also took their leave of Guo Jing, and the four rode out of the forest together.
“What are your plans?” Han Xiaoying asked Guo Jing.
Guo Jing said: “I…I plan firstly to go and find Teacher Hong.”
Ke Zhen’e nodded his head. “That’s right,” he remarked. “Master Huang went to our households; our families must have been very worried. We ought therefore to return. When you see Chief Hong, you must invite His Eminence to come to Jiaxing and convalesce. We’ll keep a firm guard over him, and assure you his safety.” Guo Jing promised to do so, took leave of his six teachers, and then returned to Lin’an with Huang Rong.
That evening, the two of them went back into the palace for a careful look around the imperial kitchens, but there was no sign of Hong Qigong anywhere. They found and interrogated several eunuchs, all of whom said that there hadn’t been any intruders or trespassers appearing in the palace these past few days. Guo Jing and Huang Rong felt they could put their minds at rest somewhat.
Although Hong Qigong had lost his martial arts, he still had the resourcefulness and experience of a great master; they expected he’d surely had a plan of escape. And by now, it was already drawing near to the time of the Beggar Gang’s big meeting – they couldn’t delay any longer. Early next morning, they immediately rode westward together. At this time, half of China was already occupied by the Jins, the boundary a line from the River Huai in the East to Sanguan in the West.
What remained for those of the Southern Song were seventeen provinces in all: Eastern and Western Liangzhe; Eastern and Western Huainan; Eastern and Western Jiangnan; Northern and Southern Jinghu; Southern Jingxi; the five regions of Bashu; Fujian; and Eastern and Western Guangnan. (*) The nation’s influence was in faltering decline, its territory shrinking by the day.
On this particular day, Guo Jing and Huang Rong were coming to the border of Western Jiangnan province. (*) While going along a mountain ridge, there was a sudden blast of cold wind across it, and a big layer of jet-black clouds came floating over fast from the east. Right now, it happened to
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