Eagle Shooting Hero 3(26)
Huang Rong noticed this man’s face was grand and heroic, his appearance like that of a tiger’s. The way he lifted his hand or took a step carried an impressive power like that of an army general. If he wasn’t wearing coarse clothes and chopping woods in this secluded mountain, he surely gave an impression as the general who is in charge of a large army. Huang Rong’s heart was stirred, “Shifu said that the Southern Emperor, Emperor Duan is actually an emperor of Dali in Yunnan; could it be that this woodcutter was actually his general? Only why did his song carry a desperate and mournful sentiment?” she thought.
The woodcutter continued singing, “Mountain peaks stand as if they are gathered together, the billows roll as if they were angry. The mountains and rivers in and around the road to Tongguan; looking to the west, hearts full of doubts. Grieving Qin and Han dynasties, their palaces have turned into dust. Flourished, common people suffered; perished, common people suffered!”
Listening the last two lines, Huang Rong remembered her father often said, ‘What is emperor or general? All are criminals harming common people. Toppling dynasty, changing surname; in the end the common people suffered!’ She was unable to restrain from shouting her praise, “Good song!”
The woodcutter turned his head, inserting the axe back to his waist he asked, “Good? What’s good about it?”
Huang Rong was about to answer, but then she thought, “He loves to sing, why don’t I sing the
‘hillside sheep’ to answer him?” Thereupon she smiled slightly, lowered her head and sang, “Green mountains waiting for each other, white clouds love each other; not even dreaming of purple robe and golden belt. One thatched hut among the blooming wild flower; why worry over who flourished and who perished? Sufficient is a humble pathway and a single ladle. Poor, spirit does not change; success, the will does not change!”
She had concluded that this woodcutter must be the general who followed the Southern Emperor to this secluded place; formerly he must be in charge of the whole army, one who once held a prominent place in the kingdom. Accordingly the song she sang was a praise to his merit and name, to the one who lived contentedly in a wild mountain forest. Actually, even though she was witty and intelligent, by all means she was not a scholar who in a short time was able to compose a good song like the one she had just sung. When she was on the Peach Blossom Island she heard her father sang this song; only she changed several characters to emphasis this woodcutter’s former days of riches and honor and place great importance on his meritorious achievements. It was a pity she was suffering an injury that her internal energy was not as strong and her voice was rather weak. As the saying goes, ‘qian chuan wan chuan, ma pi bu chuan!’ [lit. thousand times bore through, ten thousand times bore through; horse’s fart does not bore through – meaning “Anything gets through me except horse fart” (Courtesy of Sunnysnow)] This song had made the woodcutter very pleased when he heard it. He had noticed that Jing and Rong, two people were riding on the iron boat and using the iron oars to paddle along the river; surely it must be the fisherman down the mountain who lend the boat to them. He did not have any suspicion, and without asking too many questions he simply pointed to a hillside and said, “Go up that way!”
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They saw a long rattan about the size of a human’s arm hanging along the hillside going up to the peak. Jing and Rong, two people looked up above to see half of the peak was hidden in the cloud, it was unclear how high the peak was.
When Huang Rong and the woodcutter were singing songs, Guo Jing did not understand even half a word of what they were talking about. As the woodcutter let them go and directed them to go up, he still did not know the reason; but fearing the woodcutter might change his mind, without saying anything he carried Huang Rong on his back, grabbed the long rattan with both of his hands, and with a heave started climbing up.
His arms alternately pulled and they crawled up fast. Just in a short moment they had climbed about a dozen of ‘zhang’s; indistinctly they could still hear the woodcutter singing something like, “ … in the past people struggled, but where are they now? Victory, they all turned into dust! Defeat, they all turned into dust!”
Crouching on Guo Jing’s back Huang Rong laughed and said, “Jing Gege, according to what he said, we don’t need to seek medical help.”
Guo Jing was baffled, “What?” he asked.
“In any case everybody will die; if I am healed, I will turn into dust! If I am not healed, I will still turn into dust!” Huang Rong said.
“Pei!” Guo Jing spat, “Don’t listen to him.”
Huang Rong softly sang, “Alive, you carry me on your back! Dead, you carry me on your back!”
Along with Huang Rong’s playful song, two people had entered the cloud; all they saw was a vast expanse of whiteness everywhere they looked. It was still summer, the weather was hot, but actually they felt the chill in the air. Huang Rong sighed, “Right in front of our eyes are countless marvels; even if my injury cannot be healed, our trip here will not be in vain.”
“Rong’er,” Guo Jing said, “Can you just not mention life and death anymore?”
Huang Rong lowered her head and laughed, she gently blew her breath on the back of Guo Jing’s neck. Guo Jing felt his neck warm and itchy, he called out, “Don’t give me trouble! If my hands slip, both of us will plunge to our death.”
Huang Rong laughed, “Fine!” she said, “This time it wasn’t me who talk about life and death!”
Guo Jing laughed, he could not answer; he crawled up faster and a short moment later they got to the end, or to be precise, the root where the rattan grew. Turned out they had arrived at the peak.
They had just set their feet on solid ground when suddenly a loud rumbling was heard, as if a mountain rock burst apart; and then they also heard an ox bellowing loudly, followed by a man’s loud shout.
Guo Jing was surprised, “This peak is so high, yet there is an ox here. So strange!” Carrying Huang Rong on his back he rushed toward the noise.
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“The fisherman, the woodcutter, the farmer and the scholar. If there is a farmer, then there must be an ox,” Huang Rong said.
She had just finished talking when they saw a yellow ox on the hillside with its head lifted up, bellowing loudly; but the ox was actually in a very odd position. It was lying on its back on a rock, its four legs struggled but could not stand up. The rock was shaking, ready to fall down, below the rock was a man suspending the rock with both of his hands on top of his head like a letter T; if his hands slipped, both the rock and the ox would fall down into the canyon below. That man was standing on a piece of protruding cliff, there was nowhere he could step back. If he did not want to give that ox up, the rock would crush down and not only break his arms, but his legs as well.
Looking at their condition, apparently that ox was grazing on a hillside and stepped on a loose rock.
That man being near tried to save the ox by catching the rock but ended up in this precarious situation.
Huang Rong smiled, “Just now we heard the song ‘hillside sheep’, and now we see the ‘hillside ox’!” she said.
On that mountain peak there was a piece of flat land, already plowed ready for cultivation, about twenty ‘mu’s [around 1.6 acres or 2/3 of a hectare] rice field. There was a hoe by the edge of the field. The man who held the rock was bare-chested, his legs were covered with mud up to his knees; looked like the ox fell down when he was weeding the grass.
Huang Rong looked around to assess the situation, she mulled over in her heart, “This man obviously is the ‘farmer’ from ‘the fisherman, the woodcutter, the farmer and the scholar’. The ox weighs approximately three hundred catties [about 300 lbs or 150 kg]; looks like that rock is not lighter that the ox. Even though half of the rock is leaning on the hillside, yet looking at his steady feet, this man has an astonishing strength.”
Guo Jing had already put her down and rushed to help. Huang Rong hastily called out, “Not so fast, don’t be rash!” But Guo Jing thought helping others was more important; he had already arrived by the farmer’s side.
He crouched underneath the rock and lifted it up while saying, “I’ll hold it, you go and save the ox first!”
That farmer felt his load was getting lighter, but he was still afraid that Guo Jing might not be strong enough to support both the ox and the big rock. He let go his right hand and leaned to the side, but his left hand was still supporting the bottom of the rock. Guo Jing steadied his legs, then exerted his internal strength and pushed upward with both of his arms; the rock was lifted up for about a foot, giving that farmer an opportunity to let his left hand go.
The farmer waited for a moment. After seeing that the big rock would not crush down, he knew Guo Jing’s strength was enough to support it. Finally he stooped down and got out from underneath the rock, leaped to the hillside to save the yellow ox. He could not help but stealing a glance toward Guo Jing to see what kind of hero had suddenly come and offered help. He was astonished since what he saw was an eighteen, nineteen years old youngster. More surprisingly, this youngster’s hands were holding up the rock and the ox seemingly without straining himself.