The Road He Couldn't Go Back Down

More and more people were leaving the hall.

At first, it was one a day.

Later, another would leave every two or three days.

The Blue Martial Arts Hall did not stop because of it.

The morning bell still rang.

Training still began.

Instructor Li still stood at the edge of the grounds, correcting their movements.

"Feet."

"Waist."

"Don't let it sag."

"Punch."

They still practiced the same things.

The Seventy-Three Forms.

Standing practice.

Footwork.

Strength.

Recovery.

Not one was left out.

But empty spaces slowly appeared in the once-bustling Outer Courtyard.

A few tables in the dining hall stood empty too.

In the dormitory, noticeably fewer belongings remained on the beds.

Before leaving, some gave away old clothes they no longer needed.

Some left their remaining medicinal powder to their companions.

Others left nothing behind.

They walked out carrying only a bag.

As though they had never lived there at all.

It was already afternoon when Zhao Ming returned from home.

He did not start practicing his punches as soon as he came in.

Zhao Chuan was wiping away his sweat. When he saw Zhao Ming, he hurried over.

"How did it go?"

Zhao Ming set down his bag.

"How did what go?"

"Did your parents agree to let you stay?"

Zhao Ming fell silent for a moment.

"My mother doesn't want me to stay."

"What about your father?"

"He didn't say anything."

"Then why did you come back?"

"I wanted to."

Zhao Chuan froze.

"Have you thought it through?"

Zhao Ming sat on the edge of the bed.

"No."

"..."

"I just feel like..."

Zhao Ming lowered his head.

"If I go back now, I might spend the rest of my life wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Whether I could've gotten anywhere with my training."

Zhao Chuan said nothing.

Zhao Ming went on:

"But if I stay..."

"I don't know whether I'll regret that later, either."

Zhao Chuan scratched his head.

"It's a hard thing to figure out."

"So I'll stay for now."

"I'll worry about the rest later."

Zhao Chuan patted him on the shoulder.

"Sounds good."

"Don't think about it so much."

"Let's eat first."

Zhao Ming smiled.

"Can you talk about anything besides food?"

"Sure."

"What?"

"There's meat in the dining hall today."

Zhao Ming couldn't help laughing.

"Get lost."

They were still talking when someone suddenly called from outside the door.

"Chen Mo!"

Chen Mo had just returned from the training grounds.

"What is it?"

Zhao Chuan pointed toward the door.

"Someone's looking for you."

Chen Mo went over.

It was the boy who was preparing to leave.

He had already packed his things.

His bundle was small.

Clothes, shoes, and a manual of fist techniques.

Chen Mo looked at him.

"Leaving today?"

"Yeah."

"So soon?"

"My family's been urging me."

The boy smiled.

"If I don't leave soon, my mother might come and drag me home herself."

Chen Mo smiled too.

"Then you'd better go."

"Yeah."

They stood there for a while.

Then the boy suddenly asked:

"You're still staying?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you afraid?"

Chen Mo was silent for a moment.

"I am."

The answer surprised the boy.

"You really are?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you staying?"

Chen Mo glanced across the courtyard.

The wooden posts were still there.

The clothes drying by the wall were still there.

Several apprentices were practicing their punches.

Instructor Li stood nearby, correcting their movements.

Everything looked the same as before.

But he knew some things had changed.

"I don't know," Chen Mo said.

"Maybe it's because I'm not the person I was when I first came here."

The boy did not understand.

"What do you mean?"

Chen Mo thought for a moment.

"When I first came to the Blue Martial Arts Hall, I just wanted to learn a few moves."

"So I could fight back if someone bullied me."

"So I could help if something happened at home."

"Now..."

He paused.

"Now I want more than that."

"I want to become truly capable."

The boy looked at him.

"So you want to go into the mountains?"

"No."

Chen Mo shook his head.

"Not yet, at least."

"Then why do you have to stay?"

Chen Mo did not answer at once.

He thought of his father.

He thought of the calluses on his father's hands.

He thought of how his mother asked whether he was hurt every time he came back from the mountains.

Then he thought of Chen Huan bent over the table, learning to read.

If he went back,

they would still be a family.

They would still get by.

But his father would still have to go into the mountains.

His mother would still have to work.

And Chen Huan would need to go to school someday.

He used to think those things had little to do with him.

Now he saw them more clearly with every passing day.

Every extra day he trained gave his family another sliver of hope.

He looked at the boy before him.

"I'm afraid too."

"It's just..."

Chen Mo paused for a while.

"I can't go back to being someone who only wanted to learn a few moves to defend himself."

The boy said nothing.

After a moment, he nodded.

"I understand."

"You and I aren't the same."

"Yeah."

"Then I'm off."

"Okay."

The boy slung his bag over his shoulder.

He took two steps, then looked back.

"Chen Mo."

"Yeah?"

"If things really get dangerous later..."

"Don't try to tough it out."

Chen Mo smiled.

"I know."

The boy left.

Chen Mo stood in the doorway and watched for a while.

Then he turned and went back inside.

Wang Lie was still training on the practice ground.

Zhou Ye was working on his footwork.

Zhao Chuan called from the side:

"Wang Lie, you can't just keep training like that."

"Why not?"

"Have a match with me."

"No."

"Why?"

"You're too loud."

"..."

Zhao Chuan laughed in exasperation.

"Zhou Ye, you do it!"

Zhou Ye shook his head.

"I don't want to listen to you either."

"You two..."

Zhao Chuan pointed at them.

"Just wait. I'll get Zhao Ming!"

Zhao Ming was practicing his punches.

He heard the shout.

"Don't ask me."

"You too?"

"I'm afraid I'll lose."

"You're afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid you'll annoy me."

Zhao Chuan stood there, speechless for a long moment.

In the end, he laughed too.

"Fine."

"You're all so tough."

"I'll train by myself."

Chen Mo watched the others.

That heavy feeling in his chest had not gone away.

But he did not dwell on the things he could not put into words.

He still had to train.

He walked to his spot.

He planted his feet.

First, he stamped one foot lightly.

It was a habit of his before every serious practice session.

He set his feet firm.

He straightened his back.

He raised both hands.

First form.

Second form.

Third form.

By the time he finished the whole set,

sweat had gathered on his forehead.

He did not stop.

He started again.

Zhao Chuan trained alongside him.

Zhou Ye adjusted his footwork.

Wang Lie repeated his defenses again and again.

Zhao Ming practiced his punches in silence.

The five of them stood on the small practice ground.

The sounds of their punches rose and fell.

Before dinner, the hall master passed through the Outer Courtyard.

He glanced at the boys practicing their punches.

He said nothing.

He only nodded to Instructor Li.

Instructor Li stayed silent too.

Only after the hall master had gone did Instructor Li speak:

"None of you slack off."

Zhao Chuan shouted at once:

"Got it!"

"You're the loudest of the lot."

"That's because I'm full of energy!"

"If you've got energy to spare, do ten more sets."

Zhao Chuan's face fell.

"Instructor Li, isn't ten a bit much?"

"Then make it twenty."

"I'll do ten!"

Laughter rang out in the courtyard again.

Night came.

Chen Mo returned to the dormitory.

He sat at the desk and went back over the training records he had kept.

Punch count.

Recovery time.

Footwork.

Punching speed.

Each day's entry was simple.

There were no grand theories.

He had just written it all down, line by line.

When he reached the end, he paused.

The sky outside the window had gone dark.

He looked up at the empty bed.

Someone had slept there before.

Now only a bare wooden board remained.

Chen Mo lowered his head.

He picked up his pen again.

On the last line, he wrote:

Today: Seventy-Three Forms, eighty punches.

He paused.

Then added another sentence.

Continue tomorrow.

He put down the pen.

He blew out the lamp.

He lay back on his bed.

In the dark, Zhao Chuan rolled over.

"Chen Mo."

"Yeah?"

"Are you asleep?"

"Not yet."

"Train together tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Then don't get up too early."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to get up."

Chen Mo chuckled.

"Then you'll have to figure something out."

"Fine."

The room slowly fell quiet.

Wind blew past the courtyard wall.

Someone closed a door in the distance.

The Blue Martial Arts Hall settled back into the stillness of night.

But the empty beds were still there.