A Road Ahead

Driven by every Huaxia native's fear of insufficient firepower, as well as his expectations for the story yet to unfold, Lin Hai wanted to grow stronger!

"Start with the Wuji Stance." Chen Bing's voice interrupted Lin Hai's thoughts. Pointing to the center of the open space, he said, "Keep your feet shoulder-width apart, bend your knees slightly, and imagine a string lifting the crown of your head."

After listening, Lin Hai began imitating Chen Bing's earlier posture. But when he actually assumed the stance, he realized it was far from as simple as it looked.

Before long, Lin Hai's thighs began to tremble slightly, and he couldn't find that "standing like a pine" feeling Chen Bing had.

Chen Bing chuckled and walked over, tapping Lin Hai's tailbone with a fingertip. "Sink this area and relax the Mingmen point. Tai Chi emphasizes 'lifting the crown with empty strength,' not craning your neck like that."

His fingers brushed across Lin Hai's shoulders and neck, and the muscles that had already tightened somehow gradually relaxed.

As the muscles throughout his body slowly loosened, Lin Hai was surprised to find that his legs had stopped shaking.

Though his posture was still far less composed than Chen Bing's, at least it was beginning to look the part.

"Now try Vajra Pounds Mortar." Chen Bing took two steps back. "Remember, the movements must flow continuously, like drawing silk."

Lin Hai took a deep breath and recalled every detail of Chen Bing's opening posture. His right foot traced half a step forward, both hands rose, then his right palm lifted upward while his left palm pressed down.

But his arms were somewhat stiff, and he couldn't produce Chen Bing's rounded arcs that blended softness with strength.

When he continued and began imitating Chen Bing's stomping force, it felt as though he had merely kicked the ground.

"Wrong." Chen Bing shook his head. "Tai Chi power comes from the feet, is issued through the legs, directed by the waist, and expressed through the fingers. Just now, only your arms were moving. Your lower body was completely disconnected."

A light sheen of sweat formed on Lin Hai's nose. When he watched, those movements had looked so natural and fluid, but once he performed them himself, his body seemed to break apart into unrelated pieces.

He tried again, paying special attention to his lower body this time. The result was that his upper body became even stiffer, and the entire movement fell apart, making him look like a rusty robot.

Seeing this, Chen Bing suddenly stepped forward and grabbed his wrist. The grip wasn't strong, yet Lin Hai couldn't break free.

"Close your eyes." Chen Bing's voice was soft, yet Lin Hai heard every word clearly. "Don't think about the movements. Feel your breathing first."

Lin Hai obediently closed his eyes as Chen Bing placed his other hand against his stomach.

"Sink your qi into the dantian," Chen Bing said. His palm pressed down lightly and slowly moved to Lin Hai's Lower Dantian. "Yes, right here. Imagine a ball of qi rotating here."

Something wonderful happened—when Lin Hai stopped deliberately imitating the outward form and shifted his focus inward, his body seemed to find a rhythm on its own.

He raised his arms again. This time, the movement was far more connected. It was still nowhere near fluid, but at least it was no longer as stiff as before.

"Much better." Chen Bing's voice held approval. "Remember, Tai Chi emphasizes that intent comes before form. You were too fixated on imitating the shape, so you lost the most fundamental thing."

Lin Hai opened his eyes and found that Dr. Chen had already retreated three steps away. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting mottled patches of light and shadow across him.

At that moment, Lin Hai suddenly understood why those techniques were called Cloud Hands and White Crane Spreads Its Wings—they had never been mechanical combinations of movements, but poetic descriptions of all things between heaven and earth.

"One more time? If you can do the whole set, follow that feeling and perform it from beginning to end." Chen Bing raised an eyebrow.

Lin Hai nodded. This time, he didn't rush to begin. Instead, like Chen Bing, he stood quietly for a moment first.

When he raised his hands again, his movements remained unpracticed, yet they vaguely carried a certain charm. As his right palm lifted, it was as if he were truly cradling a pool of clear spring water; as his left palm pressed down, it seemed as though he were gently pressing a falling maple leaf back onto its branch.

"Smack!" As he stomped and issued force, he finally performed a passable Vajra Pounds Mortar.

It had no real power to speak of, but the sensation of force running from the soles of his feet to his fingertips let him glimpse a new world.

Afterward, relying on what his enhanced brain had remembered and Chen Bing's occasional reminders from the side, Lin Hai stumbled through an entire Tai Chi form.

When Lin Hai stood with his eyes closed, drew in his fists, and exhaled, the Seven-Colored Essence that had remained dormant in his mind finally stirred.

Perhaps it had been affected by Tai Chi, an internal martial art; perhaps it had been drawn by the state Lin Hai entered as he concentrated completely and emptied his mind of distractions, something akin to meditation. A strand as thin as an ox hair emerged from that mass of qi, starting from the depths of Lin Hai's mind, circling through his body, and finally sinking into the Lower Dantian Chen Bing had just indicated.

Lin Hai vaguely sensed something, but he was currently only an ordinary person with a somewhat stronger body. He could not perform so-called inner vision, so he could not see this scene that might have held tremendous significance.

When Lin Hai opened his eyes, his entire body felt hot. It was probably because the qi and blood throughout his body had been stirred into motion.

Chen Bing clapped and laughed. "Not bad, you're getting the hang of it. But..." He suddenly stepped forward and flicked Lin Hai's elbow with a finger. "This part is still too stiff. Chen-Style Taiji emphasizes 'softness transforms, hardness issues forth.' All your force is getting stuck at the joints."

Lin Hai rubbed his slightly numb elbow, but he couldn't help grinning. He had finally touched that threshold—that invisible boundary separating "watching" from "doing," and "looking alike" from "truly embodying it."

"All right, that's it for today's morning lesson. Next, we'll go next door. I'll tell you what you'll usually need to do there. Let's go." Lin Hai followed Chen Bing out of the clinic and headed next door.

When they pushed open the wooden door to the front hall next door, a complex scent of grass and herbs rushed toward them.

Lin Hai took a deep breath, and his lungs were immediately filled with a cool fragrance—like Mint, yet mixed with a deeper medicinal aroma. Sunlight streamed through the lattice windows, casting dappled shadows across the room and illuminating the lush greenery everywhere.

But Lin Hai's gaze was drawn to an oddly shaped plant on the right. It grew in a dark red zisha clay pot. Its stems twisted like dragons, while its leaves were so delicate they seemed almost transparent, their veins gleaming with fine golden lines beneath the sunlight.

"That's nearly century-old Fo-ti, the clinic's prized treasure." Chen Bing placed his keys on a nearby counter with a soft clink.

He continued, "Every morning before the sun comes up, use a bamboo spray bottle to mist its leaves. Remember, it has to be bamboo. A metal sprayer will affect its medicinal properties."

Chen Bing's fingers gently stroked Fo-ti's curled vines, as tenderly as if he were petting a cat. "This old fellow has a strange temperament. It likes shade, fears waterlogging, but still needs some sunlight. Water it once every three days in summer, and once every half month in winter. The water must be left out in the sun beforehand."

Lin Hai followed behind Chen Bing, passing through a green maze formed by potted plants. Bitter fragrances drifted through the air, and every few steps, he would find a plant he had never seen before.

Some had serrated golden edges along their leaves; some bore red fruits the size of pearls; others looked like ordinary weeds, yet gave off a citrus-like fragrance.

"These are Dendrobium Orchids." Chen Bing stopped before a row of hanging wooden boards. Thick moss clung to the boards, with several plants bearing small pale-purple flowers growing upon them. "They originally grew on cliffs, so they can't be planted in ordinary soil."

He removed one wooden board and handed it to Lin Hai. Only upon closer inspection did Lin Hai realize that the moss-like material was actually a special mixture of tree bark. It felt light and fluffy, like the fur of some animal.

"Before nine every morning, mist them. The bark should be slightly damp. Too much water will rot the roots; too little will dry them out."

Lin Hai was about to ask about the exact amount of water when Chen Bing had already turned toward another area. Dozens of white porcelain pots stood there, planted with all kinds of herbs. Mint, Rosemary, thyme... the familiar scents made Lin Hai feel as if he had returned to his grandmother's vegetable garden.

"These are for ordinary customers. They're easy to care for." Chen Bing pinched off a Lemon Balm leaf, crushed it between his fingers, then pressed it beneath Lin Hai's nose.

The cool sensation shot straight into Lin Hai's head, instantly refreshing him. "Water them thoroughly once every three days, and stop once water seeps out from the bottom of the pot. If a customer wants some, use silver scissors to cut here—" He demonstrated a diagonal cutting gesture. "Don't just tear it off, or you'll damage the mother plant."

Plants also grew in the parts of the shop that sunlight could not reach, where the temperature was noticeably several degrees lower. Several strange-looking plants were displayed there: one had dark-purple leaves covered in fine fuzz; another bloomed with ghastly white trumpet-shaped flowers whose centers were an unnatural purple-black.

"Datura and Aconite." Chen Bing's voice suddenly turned serious as he took out a pair of leather gloves from beneath the counter. "You must wear these when handling them. Even if you only get some sap on you..."

He rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a twisted scar on the inside of his wrist. "That's the price I paid for being foolish when I was fourteen."

Lin Hai instinctively took half a step back. In the darkness, those eerie flowers seemed to be staring at him. Yet Chen Bing only chuckled and took a celadon bottle from the shelf. "There's no need to be afraid. Poison, used properly, becomes medicine. Traditional Chinese medicine even follows the principle of fighting poison with poison. This bottle of Yang-Restoring Pills uses Aconite as its main ingredient. I've used it to save quite a few patients suffering from heart yang collapse."

"Remember," Chen Bing told Lin Hai, "every plant in this shop has a spirit. Treat them well, and they will repay you." He pointed at the ceiling, and only then did Lin Hai notice dozens of small burlap bags hanging from the beams, gently swaying in the draft passing through the hall.

"Those are seeds collected last year. When the time is right, we'll raise new seedlings from them."

As the sun began to slant westward, Chen Bing showed Lin Hai the backyard's circulating water system, composting area, and medicinal herb drying racks.

"All right, that's basically everything. If you run into any problems later, just come ask me." Chen Bing explained the situation here to Lin Hai in detail.

"Look around and familiarize yourself with the place for now. I'm going back next door to see patients. When you come tomorrow morning, come here first. After all, the water for Fo-ti needs enough time in the sun." With that, Chen Bing headed toward the clinic next door.

Lin Hai was still a little dazed. He had taken in too much information all at once and needed to sort through it bit by bit.

At this moment, he had no idea what kind of sparks he would create with this Herbal Plant Shop, these medicinal herbs, and these plants, or what kind of story they would write together.