When One Hand Claps, It Makes No Sound

When One Hand Claps, It Makes No Sound

In the middle of the night, Zhuzi was jolted awake by a burst of ragged panting. Not far away, his mother's breathing was as heavy as a bellows.

"Mother, Mother... Mother, is it acting up again?" Zhuzi was shocked. He rolled over and sat up, too rushed to light a lamp as he hurriedly threw open the window.

The mountain wind blew in. The freezing night air made Zhuzi's Mother, sleeping bare, shiver, but Zhuzi had no mind for that. He hurriedly grabbed a large palm-leaf fan and began fanning her. Only when he heard her breathing gradually steady did he say anxiously, "Mother, hold on. I'll go boil the medicine. When dawn comes, I'll take you to the city to see a doctor..."

"Zhuzi..." Zhuzi's Mother reached out and seized his arm. Her voice was as thin as a thread. "Zhuzi... don't worry about Mother anymore. This illness of mine can't be cured..."

"Mother, don't listen to that Zi Bofeng's nonsense. What does that brat know? If I see him, I'll give him a good hard slap!" At the mention of Zi Bofeng, Zhuzi's teeth immediately itched with hatred. He truly did not know how his brother Zi Jian could have such an irritating son. Several times, he had wanted to shoot an arrow from his hunting bow right into Zi Bofeng's mouth, just to see how deep that mouth went and whether one arrow could reach the bottom.

"Zhuzi... actually, that child Bofeng was right. Mother's illness can't be cured. Dragging it out will only make me suffer more... You grew up with Little Stone's father. Look, Little Stone is already so big, yet you still haven't found a wife. Mother has only held you back..." She gripped Zhuzi's hand. Though she was barely over forty, she was already as gaunt as an old woman in her seventies or eighties. There was not even two ounces of flesh on her hands; they were like chicken claws. Yet no one knew where she found the strength to clamp tightly around Zhuzi's arm and keep him from leaving.

"Zhuzi..." Zhuzi's Mother pulled Zhuzi's rough, large hand into her bosom. "Zhuzi, feel this..."

Zhuzi's hand groped over his mother's chest. She did not know how long she had been panting; her underclothes were damp and cold. Something hard was hidden against her chest.

"When Mother married into the Yan Family, your father went up the mountain and found a fine piece of jade, then hunted a roe deer. He took them to Meng City and traded them for this bracelet for Mother..."

Zhuzi remembered the watery green bracelet on his mother's wrist when he was little, gleaming so brightly it dazzled the eye.

"Zhuzi, feel again..."

Zhuzi felt again. He could make out every one of his mother's ribs. When she had first married into the Yan Family, how glorious she had been. His father had been a skilled jade craftsman and a fine hunter. Who did not praise his skill at hunting in the mountains? But one year, a torrential downpour came, and a huge boulder rolled down the mountain. His father pushed Zhuzi and his mother away, but was crushed to pieces beneath the boulder himself. It was also then that his mother fled with him and the villagers, and contracted asthma.

"Did you feel it, Zhuzi?" Zhuzi's Mother asked.

"Mother, I felt it." Zhuzi's voice was muffled.

It was another hard object, somewhat smaller than the first.

"When you were ten, my mother died..." Zhuzi's Mother looked up at the pitch-black rafters, and a glimmer flickered across her face. "After she passed, there was not even a coffin for her, but she gave me this pair of earrings... When my mother wore these earrings and smiled, she could hook your grandfather's soul right away..."

"Mother..." Zhuzi only wanted to cry.

"When you were seventeen, you were bitten by a wolf. Little Stone's father carried you back. You came down with a fever that lasted three days and three nights. Mother pawned both this bracelet and the earrings to treat you... Later, when you caught those two deer, you said you wanted to save their hides to make Mother a mattress. Mother gave them away, and you were unhappy about it..."

"But Mother didn't give them away. Mother redeemed them. They were keepsakes your father and your grandmother left Mother. Mother couldn't live without them..."

Zhuzi only cried.

"Mother once thought that unless Mother died, this bracelet and these earrings would absolutely never be pawned again..." Zhuzi's Mother did not continue. She paused, settled her emotions, then said, "Zhuzi, from today onward, you keep the bracelet and earrings. At daybreak, go to your Fifth Granduncle's house. Give him the earrings and ask him to arrange a wife for you. Let the earrings serve as the betrothal gift, and the bracelet... let it be Mother's engagement gift for your wife..."

"When Mother dies, there is no need for a coffin. Your father did not even leave behind a body, so I do not even have a place to be buried with him... Just wrap Mother up and bury me beside that great boulder..."

"Mother only wants... only wants to see you get married, see my son wearing a big red flower and carrying my daughter-in-law on his back... I want to see my grandson. I only want to..."

"Mother, Mother, wait for me. I'll go right now. I'll go find Fifth Granduncle..." Zhuzi ran out as if he had gone mad. But once he ran out of the courtyard, he stood there blankly.

A jade bracelet and a pair of gold earrings lay in his rough, large hands. They were so light, yet so heavy. This was his mother's life, his mother's dreams, his mother's everything!

Zhuzi suddenly turned and knelt toward his mother's room. In a low voice, he said, "Mother, your son is unfilial. I don't want a wife. I want Mother! Even if I must sell myself into slavery, I will make Mother live!"

He ran to Zi Bofeng's doorstep and pounded on the family gate until the heavens shook and the earth trembled.

Lower Yan Village lay at the foot of the mountains, where carts were ill-suited for travel, so most households did not have one. Only Zi Jian often made furniture and hauled timber for others, so he had built a simple flatbed cart himself. Whenever Zhuzi took his mother to Meng City to seek treatment, he had to come borrow the cart.

Zi Jian opened the door. Seeing Zhuzi's anxious expression, he asked in alarm, "Zhuzi, is your mother acting up again?"

"Brother, I need to borrow the cart."

"I'll bring it over for you." Without another word, Zi Jian turned and left.

Zi Bofeng stumbled sleepily out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes. "Uncle Zhuzi, what happened?"

"You crow-mouthed jinx, I'll beat you!" The moment Zhuzi saw Zi Bofeng, anger surged up from his heart. He slapped Zi Bofeng across the face.

"Ah..." Zi Bofeng let out a miserable howl and staggered back two steps, clutching his swollen, aching cheek. For a moment, his mind could not wrap itself around what had happened. How did I offend him?

He had escaped Yan Lao Wu's three lashes, only to fail to escape Uncle Zhuzi's slap...

Zi Bofeng's mouth really did bring him no end of trouble...

"Hiss... ah..." Zi Bofeng held a wet towel soaked in icy spring water against the side of his face as he ate breakfast in tiny bites. Zi Jian watched from across the table and could not help shaking his head with a sigh.

Though Zhuzi had hit him, Zi Jian did not hold it against Zhuzi. He had even helped Zhuzi carry Zhuzi's Mother onto the cart. Zhuzi was now the village's best hunter and strongest man. With one punch, he could snap a wolf cub's neck. Two years ago, he had fought with a thug from a neighboring village and slapped one man deaf in one ear. Had he not been in the right, he likely would have gone to prison. If he had truly struck without restraint, Zi Bofeng would not even be able to stand by now. Besides, his own sharp-tongued son truly deserved the beating.

Still, it would have been a lie to say his heart did not ache. After seeing Zhuzi off, Zi Jian began fussing over his son's face, applying cold compresses and medicine. When Yan Wu Shi saw it that morning, her eyes immediately brimmed with tears. She kept muttering that damned Zhuzi had actually been cruel enough to hit him. Children did not understand better; what was wrong with saying a few things? She blew on his face and stroked it, even specially cooking thin porridge and blowing it cool before feeding it to Zi Bofeng.

Zi Bofeng felt so wronged. How could he have known that his former self had said such awful things, even if they had been the truth...

After he slowly finished breakfast, the cold compress and ointment finally took effect. The swelling on his face subsided a little, and one eye could open. When he looked into the washbasin, he saw a huge palm print swollen high on his face.

Little Stone stretched out a finger from beside him, poked it, and asked, "Brother, does it hurt?"

"What do you think? Does it hurt?" Zi Bofeng raised his hand irritably. "Want me to let you find out?"

Little Stone let out a sharp, giggling shriek and hurriedly ran away to complain to Zi Jian. "Uncle, Brother wants to hit me!"

Zi Jian was sawing and shaving several pieces of lumber. Hearing this, he merely lifted his eyelids. "He wouldn't dare!"

Little Stone took that as license to be smug. He turned back to tease Zi Bofeng again. "Brother, you don't dare hit me!"

"Come here and see if I dare! Watch my Esoteric Great Hand Seal—prepare to be struck!" Zi Bofeng waved his palm, making it whistle through the air.

Watching the two brothers horse around, the corners of Zi Jian's mouth rose in a faint smile. His son truly was different from before. In the past, his son would probably have dragged Little Stone aside to lecture him on what it meant for elder brothers to be kind and younger brothers respectful.

If he had been the old Zi Bofeng, he would have returned to his room to study hard at this very moment. But how could the current Zi Bofeng sit still? He went back into his room and picked up several books. They were all dull classics, and now that he possessed the ability to remember everything at a glance, he had long memorized them all until they rolled off his tongue.

He said to Little Stone, "Little Stone, go outside and see whether there's anyone around, especially toward the back mountain. Tell me when there's no one."

Little Stone gave an "oh" and went outside, then poked his head back in. "No one!"

Zi Bofeng asked suspiciously, "Really no one?"

"Really no one! When have I ever lied to you, Brother?" Little Stone nodded repeatedly.

Zi Bofeng poked his head out to look. There truly was no one outside. Only then did he carry a small wooden box out the door. Little Stone, that little tagalong, naturally followed after him, walking on tiptoe and swinging his arms as he darted ahead and fell behind.

"Walk carefully!" Zi Jian called after them. Neither had time to answer before they ran off in a flash.

With a huge handprint on his face, he would inevitably be laughed at if he went into the village, so Zi Bofeng headed straight up the mountain after leaving home.

Looking up from the foot of the mountain, one could see a small stream winding down, babbling through the village before flowing into the Meng River. Halfway up the mountain, one could vaguely make out a Big Blue Rock. In the past, Zi Bofeng studied day and night and found Zi Jian's woodworking at home too noisy, so he often took poetry books, writing brushes, and ink to the Big Blue Rock to read and write.

The Big Blue Rock stood beside the stream. Its shaded side hung over the water, covered in moss. Its sunlit half, however, was dry and flat. Every morning, Zi Bofeng would hold a branch, dip it in the stream water, and practice writing on the Big Blue Rock. By the time large characters filled the entire rock, the sun would have risen. If there was class at the Private School that day, Zi Bofeng would return there. If there was no class, he would climb atop the Big Blue Rock.

Record of Raising Monsters