The Vast Great Qin

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Wang Anfeng looked at the bird that had been knocked unconscious, then lowered his head to the porcelain bottle in his hand, wreathed in the fragrance of medicine. His mind was completely blank. Almost entirely on instinct, he stumbled down the mountain in a daze. Without delivering firewood to the village's wealthy households, he made his way, light-footed and heavy-footed, back to the shabby little house by the willow tree at the entrance to his village.

He tossed aside the bundle of firewood on his back, then sat blankly in the room, staring at the porcelain bottle on the table. The longer he looked, the more a foolish grin crept across his lips. His heart felt bright and open. He snickered to himself, yet covered his mouth, like a little kitten that had stolen a bite of fish. Then he rolled himself onto the hard bedboards, hugged the blanket, and secretly rejoiced for a long while.

When he turned over, pain suddenly flared in his wrist. Only then did he remember the strange bracer he had found on the mountain. He had yet to find its owner; Master of the Martial Arts School's pigs had not been fed; and he still had to look after Uncle Li, who lived alone, in his parents' stead. All at once, countless matters surged into his mind.

Though he still did not understand why it had been night just moments ago and morning in the blink of an eye, it did not stop him from realizing that much time had passed. His master's words—more than four hours—still rang in his ears. Thinking of all the things he had delayed made his heart jolt. He abruptly flipped up into a sitting position and reached for the bracer in his hand. Yet what he grasped was not that silver-white bracer, but a string of cool, warm beads. They had the sheen of metal to the touch, yet looked as mellow as aged wood. Anxiety rising in his heart, he called out softly.

"Where's the bracer? Why is it gone?"

"Beep—Young Hero has chosen his own sect. The server has used liquid-metal transformation technology to alter its appearance into Shaolin Temple disciple ornament: Heart-Calming Prayer Beads. To prevent loss, it has already been bound to Young Hero."

That crisp, pleasant female voice sounded beside his ear again. Wang Anfeng froze, looking at the string of prayer beads. Only after a moment did he ask,

"Shaolin... does that mean this thing is mine?"

"Could it have been given to me by Master... It really does look a lot like the beads in Master's hand..."

"Anfeng, Anfeng, are you there? Someone said you'd just come back..."

Just as Wang Anfeng was at a loss, a deep, powerful man's voice rang out beyond the door. The youth recognized its owner. With no time to worry about whether these Heart-Calming Prayer Beads belonged to him, he sprang to the ground, straightened his clothes, steadied his mind, and hurried over to open the door. Sure enough, a young man in a blue robe stood outside, one hand raised as though about to knock. Seeing him emerge, the man smiled.

"You brat, you made me wait long enough."

"I'm really sorry, Brother Wang. I ran into something yesterday, so I didn't go to Master of the Martial Arts School's house..."

The moment Wang Anfeng saw the young man, he cut him off with an apology, his face full of remorse. The tall youth outside was startled. He raised a hand to touch Wang Anfeng's forehead and teased, "You haven't caught a chill, so why are you spouting nonsense in broad daylight?"

"Nonsense?"

The youth blinked. The blue-robed man laughed. "Yesterday, you fed my family's pigs until they were fat and strong. It's only been one day, and you've forgotten everything already?" His gaze passed over the youth and fell upon the bed that had just been tossed into disorder. With one glance, understanding dawned on his face, and he said teasingly,

"Looks like you took a lazy day too, Anfeng, and slept yourself silly. Still, that's only natural. You bustle about every day; sleeping a little more won't hurt."

The youth opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but had no idea where to begin. While he was still thinking, the young man had already lifted the huge slab of pork in his hand and said with a smile,

"Never mind that. We slaughtered a pig at home today. Dad told me to bring you some pork belly. The sun's vicious these days, so cook it and eat it early. Otherwise, it'll turn foul in this heat."

"Here. There's still work at home, so I won't keep chatting. I'll be off first. If we find the time, we can have a proper talk."

Before the youth could refuse, the young man surnamed Wang stuffed the meat into Wang Anfeng's hands. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he turned and strode away. Wang Anfeng weighed the pork in his hand and watched the youth's whirlwind departure with some helplessness, though warmth rose in his heart.

Nothing had changed. It was still the familiar village, the familiar people. If anything had changed, it was likely only the prayer beads in his hand and the warm current flowing through his body.

But what was going on with time?

A whole day had clearly passed, yet Brother Wang said he had already gone yesterday... Could it be that time had not changed at all?

Wang Anfeng scratched his head. His gaze then fell upon the glistening, fatty pork in his hand. He stopped thinking about it, smiled, and murmured,

"Forget it. I won't worry about that for now. It's been so long since I had meat. I should take some to Uncle Li as well."

Since Yuan Ci had not said much about Shaolin's prohibition against meat and pungent foods, the youth had no notion of it at all. Instead, he was delighted at the prospect of eating meat. He turned back into the house, took out a chopping board and kitchen knife, and divided the meat into portions of three and seven. He first put the smaller portion into a bowl, then carefully wrapped the larger piece in oiled paper. After washing his hands, he shut the doors and windows, carried the portion of pork out, and headed toward Uncle Li's home.

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Wang Anfeng had no idea what Uncle Li's full name was. He only remembered that, while his father had still been alive, their family had been close to Uncle Li and often visited him. Whenever they had something delicious at home, his father would have Wang Anfeng deliver a share to Uncle Li, who always accepted it without ceremony. His features were stern and frightening, but he was a very good man. It seemed he had once worked outside as a storyteller, with endless tales in his belly. The village children were always drawn there and could not help running over.

Children were always noisy, but Uncle Li did not mind it in the least. Though he lived alone, the clamoring little brats seemed to bring their own kind of pleasure. The larger his audience, the more enthusiastically he spoke. Carrying the pork, Wang Anfeng walked along the main road and stopped before a small courtyard set apart from the villagers' homes. Before he entered, he heard a familiar voice.

"The world is so vast that it has scarcely any bounds. There are simply too many little kingdoms and petty kings in this world to count, you little whelps—far more than you can imagine. Of those rulers, only a few are worth mentioning. The Turks, for instance. Back then, the Turkic King was as stupid as a pig made of meat. He divided his land and people among his brothers and sons. In the end, he grew old and starved to death in his tent, while outside, they fought until the sky was split and the earth torn apart."

"They fought for nearly a hundred years. Until this generation, when the young prince from the Northern Turks branch seized a curved blade and forced his father to abdicate. Then, right before everyone's eyes, he cut off the head of a foppish noble. He reorganized the troops and horses, and in a mere ten years swept across an entire region. Not only did he cow every one of those Turkic kings, he expanded his territory far beyond its former borders. He governed diligently; in martial prowess, he could rival a Grandmaster of an entire region, and his literary talent soared as well. He was truly an outstanding figure of his age!"

"Woooow!"

The children listening with rapt attention burst into cries of admiration. Wang Anfeng quietly entered the courtyard without disturbing the white-haired elder. He merely stood to one side with a smile. The old man raised his hand and took a swig of cheap wine. His white hair flew wildly like a mad lion's mane. Using the gourd in his hand as a storyteller's block, he slammed it heavily onto the table, spraying spittle as he continued,

"As for the other, Baekje gathered people from every little tribe and clan. Each had its own rules, each had its own martial arts. Poisonous insects were everywhere, and the people were fierce by nature. It was chaos beyond measure. Yet when that prince was to ascend the throne, he stubbornly put on a tattered hemp garment, raised his fists, and declared that he would punch his way through the hundred tribes before ascending the throne. Everyone thought he was joking, but before the coronation, he truly went."

A little boy's eyes shone brightly, his blood boiling as he repeatedly asked, "Did he succeed?"

"Of course not. The people sent out by the hundred tribes were all old scoundrels—cunning as thieves and mean as snakes. He lost miserably."

The old man swallowed another mouthful of wine. Seeing the children's spirits droop, he chuckled and stopped putting on airs.

"But he did not give up."

"He spent three years, punching his way from the weakest tribe to the great clans, until at last he knocked the strongest man of Baekje's royal family to the ground. Covered in wounds, he climbed step by step onto his throne. Afterward, he fused together the martial arts of the hundred tribes and created a supreme art uniquely his own. Without withholding the slightest thing, he made it public to every tribe in Baekje. Such breadth of heart was rarely seen under heaven!"

"Wasn't he afraid someone else would become stronger than him?"

The old man glanced at the boy who had asked. He raised a finger and shook it.

"He feared only that in Baekje, there would be no one stronger than him."

With that one sentence alone, though they had never met the man, his open and magnanimous spirit seemed to rush straight at them. Through the old man's description, they could almost see that King of Baekje, and for a moment, they all yearned for him. Silence fell over the courtyard. Then a little girl raised her hand and timidly asked,

"They're so powerful. What about our Great Qin?"

"Yes, what about our Great Qin?!"

The little boys' eyes brightened as they looked at the old man. Yet he acted as if he had heard nothing, slouching lazily in his wicker chair and shaking the wine gourd in his hand. Baring his teeth in a grin, he said, "Ah, I've talked about so much that I'm tired. No more, no more..."

The anticipation on the children's faces froze. The oldest boy's eyes rolled, and he immediately rushed forward, smiling as he rubbed the old man's shoulders and pounded his back. The other children caught on. In their thirst for the story, some kneaded his legs while others pounded his shoulders. The old man stretched comfortably and said,

"Comfortable, comfortable..."

"Uncle Li, you're feeling better now, right... Keep telling us... What about our Great Qin?"

The Old Man lifted his eyes to the children's ingratiating faces, then narrowed them again. Stroking his belly, he sighed. "After telling so many stories, the worms in my belly have begun to cry out. What should I do about that?"

"..."

The boy's expression froze. Then he gritted his teeth and tremblingly reached toward the snacks hidden in his clothes, his face full of struggle and longing. Beside him, the Old Man opened a slit in his half-closed eyes. Catching the scent of pork cracklings, he drew in a deep breath and swallowed.

"In the twelfth month of the seventh year of His Majesty's reign, on the day Jia Yin, His Majesty visited Hibiscus Garden. The Retired Emperor laid out wine at Weiyang Palace..."

At that moment, a warm, mellow voice sounded. The children instinctively turned around and saw that fatherless, motherless wild child from the village. The younger children showed disdain and contempt on their faces, while the older ones awkwardly and sheepishly looked away. Wang Anfeng watched Uncle Li helplessly as he tried to cheat the children out of their snacks. He forcibly ignored the old man's winks and the furtive gesture promising to split half with him, then said gently,

"At the time, there were countless dignitaries present, their caps and carriages dense as a forest. When the wine had flowed freely, the Retired Emperor showed faint signs of drunkenness. Smiling, he ordered the Turkic King to dance for amusement and the King of Baekje to answer with poetry."

The youth lifted his eyes. The children's disdain and every other expression had turned to blank astonishment. He smiled faintly.

"None dared refuse."