It was at this moment that Guo Jing said, “I beg the Reverend to save her life!” He had just finished speaking when suddenly he felt his legs wobble, his body involuntarily moved forward one step.
Quickly he exerted his strength to resist but his body refused to obey his mind; his face turned red all over. He was shocked. “Reverend Yideng’s force can continue for so long!” he thought, “I’ve already tried to disperse it; unexpectedly it continued to lift me up. The incoming force has been broken, but a short moment later my own opposing force uncontrollably propelled myself forward.
If it were a real fight wouldn’t my little life be gone? Eastern Heretic, Western Poison, Southern Emperor and Northern Beggar truly deserve their reputations.” This time he bowed and kowtowed with much more admiration; what he felt in his heart showed on his face.
Yideng noticed Guo Jing’s countenance showed a scared and admiring look, he stretched out his hand to gently pat Guo Jing’s shoulder and said with a smile, “You have trained to this level, it really is not easy.” Meanwhile he had not released Huang Rong’s hand; he turned his head and smiled, “Child, don’t be afraid, set your heart at peace,” he said with a gentle voice. Then he helped her to sit on the meditation mat.
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In all her life Huang Rong never had anybody treated her with such compassion. Her father loved her very much, but his manner was a little bit eccentric. Normally he would treat her as a friend, without revealing the deep love a father had for his daughter. This time listening to Yideng’s warm words all of a sudden Huang Rong was overwhelmed as if she suddenly felt her mother’s tender love; the love she had never experienced. All the pain and suffering she endured for quite some time since she was injured suddenly burst out uncontrollably. “Wah!” she broke into tears.
Reverend Yideng said with a comforting voice, “Good child, don’t cry, don’t cry! Uncle will certainly fix all the pain you feel.” Who would have thought that the gentler and more comforting his words were, the more Huang Rong was overwhelmed and she cried even louder. It was not until much later did her cry eventually became sobs as she tried to regain her composure.
Hearing his promise Guo Jing was ecstatic, but upon turning his head around he saw the scholar and the farmer’s stiff eyebrows and bulging eyes; they were staring at him with angry looks on their faces. Guo Jing felt bad while thinking, “We can reach this place entirely due to Rong’er’s craftiness, no wonder they are mad. Reverend Yideng is this compassionate, yet his disciples were determined to hinder us. I wonder why?”
He heard Reverend Yideng say, “Child, how did you get injured? How did you get to this place?
Why don’t you tell your uncle everything?” And so Huang Rong wiped her tears and told him how she mistook Qiu Qianren as Qiu Qianzhang, how she took his palms strike and everything that happened.
When Yideng heard the name Iron Palm Qiu Qianren, he frowned slightly, but immediately went back to listening Huang Rong attentively. While speaking, Huang Rong kept her eyes open to see Yideng’s face; even though his frown was very slight it did not escape Huang Rong’s eyes. When she got to the point where they met Ying Gu at the Black Marsh forest and how she gave them direction to find this place, Reverend Yideng’s countenance once again momentarily changed; he lowered his head in deep thought, seemingly he was reminiscing over past events, and was grieved and pained over them.
A moment after Huang Rong shut her mouth Reverend Yideng heaved a sigh and asked, “And then what happened?”
Huang Rong continued by recounting how the fisherman, the woodcutter, the farmer and the scholar had used all possible means to make things difficult for them. The woodcutter easily let them go up the mountain, therefore, she said some praising words on his behalf; but to the rest of them she added some spices to make their offenses worse than they were. Deliberately she made the scholar and the farmer mad.
Several times Guo Jing interrupted her, saying, “Rong’er, don’t talk nonsense; these Uncles are not that bad!” But Huang Rong kept talking like a spoiled child in front of Reverend Yideng, telling him all kind of things, making the faces of the two disciples standing behind Yideng turn red and blue. They did not dare to open up their mouths in the presence of their master.
Reverend Yideng repeatedly nodded his head, “(Sigh), how can you treat guests coming from afar like that? These kids were really rude towards friends; I am going to tell them to apologize to you two later.”
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Huang Rong stared at the scholar and the farmer with a smug expression; meanwhile her mouth did not stop; she told everything until how they ended up at the temple’s gate. “Afterwards I gave that drawing for you to see, and you asked me in; then they did not dare to hinder us anymore,” she said.
“What drawing?” Yideng was surprised.
“It’s about some eagle, some pigeon, and someone cutting his own flesh,” Huang Rong replied.
“Whom did you give it to?” Yideng asked.
Before Huang Rong could answer the scholar took the drawing from his pocket and presented it with both hands. “Disciple has it,” he said, “Shifu has not finished meditation just now, I have not presented it to Shifu yet.”
Yideng held out his hand to take the drawing, he smiled to Huang Rong and said, “You see, if you did not mention it, I wouldn’t know a thing.” Slowly he opened up the drawing and looked at it; he knew what the drawing meant. He smiled and said, “Turned out others were afraid I would not help you and sent this drawing to stir me up. Don’t you think they underestimated the Old Monk too much?”
Huang Rong turned her head to see anxiety and deep concern on the scholar and the farmer’s faces; she felt strange. “Why is it that when they heard their Shifu promise to treat me they looked like they are losing their lifeblood? Is the medicine the most precious pill that they hate to give it up?”
She turned her head back to see Yideng was carefully examining the drawing. He brought it under the sunlight to see the quality of the paper, he lightly flicked it several times; his face showed suspicions.
“Did Ying Gu draw this picture?” he asked Huang Rong.
“Yes,” Huang Rong answered.
Yideng was silent for half a day then asked again, “Did you see it with your own eyes when she did it?”
Huang Rong knew something was amiss; she tried to recollect what happened that time and said,
“When Ying Gu wrote those, her back was toward us. I saw her pen moved, but I did not see with my own eyes whether she was writing or drawing.”
“You said she gave you two other pouches; let me see the contents of the other pouches,” Yideng said.
Guo Jing took the pouches from his pocket and Yideng examined them; his face changed slightly.
“Indeed that is so,” he muttered softly. He gave the three sheets of paper to Huang Rong and said,
“Yao Xiong is an expert in calligraphy and paintings; your educational background came from your family, certainly you understand connoisseurship. Why don’t you take a look at these three sheets and tell me what you think.”
Huang Rong took the papers to take a look and immediately said, “These two sheets are ordinary
‘yu ban zhi’ [jade register paper], but the drawing was made on a ‘jiu jian zhi’ [old cocoon paper], a rarely seen type of paper.”
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Yideng nodded his head, “Hmm, in calligraphy and painting I am a layman, what do you think about this drawing?”
Huang Rong examined the drawing carefully; she smiled and said, “Uncle is only pretending to be a layman! You have known from the start that it was not Ying Gu who draw this picture.”
Yideng’s countenance slightly changed, “Then it is true it was not her painting? I am only guessing based on logic, I really was not looking at the drawing.”
Huang Rong tugged his arm, saying, “Uncle, look, the writing on these two sheets of paper are delicate and elegant while the stroke on this drawing is very stiff. Hmm, this drawing is made by a man. Yes, I am sure it is a man’s pen-stroke. This man did not know a thing about calligraphy or painting, but his pen-stroke is powerful, it even penetrated the paper to its back … This ink looked very old, I think it is even older than my own age.”
Reverend Yideng heaved a heavy sigh; he pointed his finger to a book on top of a bamboo table, signaling the scholar to fetch it. The scholar walked over and fetched it, and handed it over to his master. Huang Rong saw on the yellowing page of the cover two rows of characters that read, ‘The Great Buddist Scripture by Maming Bodhisattva. Translated by ‘san cang jiu mo luo shen’ [name of a saint] of Guizi in the Western Region.’ She thought, “I am not going to understand anything if he starts preaching to me.”
Yideng casually flipped open the cover of the book, put the drawing next to it and said, “Take a look.”
“Ah!” Huang Rong softly exclaimed, “The same paper quality.” Yideng nodded.
Guo Jing did not understand, he whispered, “What paper quality is the same?”
Huang Rong said, “Look carefully, isn’t the paper quality of this book the same as that drawing?”