The newcomer rolled his one eye, looking the boy before him up and down. "Don't expect any special treatment here. Whatever everyone else does, you'll do too. If you dare slack off or cut corners, I'll straighten you out."
Lian Youming felt like crying but had no tears. Without the slightest hesitation, he said solemnly, "Don't worry. Even if it's digging out dung and composting it, I'll do it."
Instead, the man raised an eyebrow. "Digging dung and making compost is the damn work of the female educated youths. You think you'd get a turn?"
Aunt Shen could hardly watch any longer. "Qin, what are you doing? Don't frighten the boy."
So this was Aunt Shen's husband, Qin Yuhu, a veteran of the Korean War.
"That's enough to scare him? What is he, a quail? Give me a break. I heard this kid dared take on seven or eight knife-carrying hoodlums all by himself." Qin Yuhu had started with a stern face, but as he spoke, he broke into a smile. "Good lad. All that growing wasn't wasted on you."
Patting Lian Youming on the shoulder, Qin Yuhu said gravely, "All right, enough chatter. Finish eating and I'll take you over. All this dawdling just to join a rural production team-your father clearly didn't drill you enough."
With a miserable look, Lian Youming stuffed the now-lukewarm dumplings into his mouth in a few quick bites, took a great gulp of meat broth, and swallowed everything whole.
"A whole brood of hotheads." Shen Qinghong did not know whether to laugh or cry. She gave up trying to say anything more and merely added a few reminders. "Take it slowly on the road. If there's anything you want to eat, come over on your day off. Whatever delicacies you want, I'll make them."
With that, she went into the inner room and brought out a pile of food, along with a cotton quilt.
Lian Youming hurriedly waved his hands in refusal.
But Qin Yuhu kept a stern face. "Take it all. Once winter comes, the cold is frightening. Remember to look after yourself over there. Don't act recklessly when something happens. Follow the organization's arrangements."
Lian Youming gave a helpless, wry smile. "Uncle, don't worry. I know."
A military-green motorcycle with a sidecar stood outside.
Once the paperwork for his rural assignment was handed over, Lian Youming put his luggage aboard and climbed in.
The moment he got on, however, he regretted it.
Sitting in the sidecar against the freezing wind nearly blew him senseless.
The wind cut like a thousand knives. By the time they had traveled some distance, it had twisted his mouth and narrowed his eyes, leaving his whole face numb.
As Qin Yuhu kept charging ahead, Lian Youming clutched the scarf that was almost frozen stiff against his face, feeling as though he were sitting on needles.
Qin Yuhu had remarkably sharp hearing and a booming voice. He talked nonstop along the way, asking about Lian Youming's family.
At first, Lian Youming had thought Qin Yuhu was a steely tough guy who feared no cold. But as he listened, he heard the man's tongue growing stiff and his words becoming slurred. So he was cold too.
Only after traveling some fifteen or twenty li did the motorcycle stop at a village entrance.
Huddled in the sidecar, Lian Youming's mouth twitched. The wind had nearly reduced him to tears.
This man Qin was ruthless.
Qin Yuhu was little better off, the corners of his mouth twitching from the cold, though he still maintained that stern expression.
When Lian Youming picked up his luggage and looked around, his heart sank.
Across the open flatland, fifteen or twenty low earthen houses and thatched huts stood scattered about, cooking smoke rising from yards and homes.
Several educated youths stood covered in dirt, their noses running, hoes and shovels in their hands. Some piled dung, others dug the soil, while another was being dragged stumbling and scrambling by a frisky donkey, shouting who knew what between endless cries of pain.
Hearing the noise, a little old man missing a front tooth came out, holding a smoking pipe and wrapped in a padded coat.
He was the village Party secretary.
Qin Yuhu first exchanged a few words with the old man, then instructed Lian Youming, "Remember, once you're up in the mountains, obey orders. No causing trouble. Learn to share hardship and happiness with your comrades."
Leaving him with that, he rode off again in a flurry.
Without much further conversation, the old Party secretary arranged for Lian Youming to move into an earthen house at the eastern end of the village. It had previously housed intellectuals sent to the countryside for reform after making mistakes; now it had been vacated for educated youths like them.
Four others had been assigned to Kaoshan Village along with Lian Youming, all from major cities: two men and two women. The male educated youths were Wu Kui and Liu Dabiao, the former from Shanghai and the latter from Tianjin. The two women were from Beijing, one surnamed Zhao and the other Xu.
They had expected some grand, stirring undertaking, yet within days of their arrival, these educated youths made fools of themselves.
First, the women proved unable to tell one grain crop from another. They could not even distinguish wheat from rice, pulled up vegetable seedlings as weeds, and were chased by a few large geese until they screamed for their parents.
Then came the men. Ever since Wu Kui and Liu Dabiao learned the village kept dairy cattle, they had thought about drinking milk day and night. Absurdly, they could not even tell males from females. They went into the pen in the middle of the night and kneaded a big black bull's balls, very nearly getting kicked to death.
Lian Youming was no better behaved. He had enough to eat, but there was no fat in the food, and his mouth was sick of the blandness. Every day he shot sparrows with a slingshot and kept wanting to head into the mountains.
The poor old Party secretary, already advanced in years, worried so much he was nearly going bald. Even the way he looked at them was tinged with disdain, as though they were a bunch of walking disasters. He sighed over them every day.
Life on the rural assignment was hard too.
The women mostly emptied latrines, made compost, and tended the vegetable plots, exhausting the two young women from Four-Nine City until they complained nonstop.
The men had it even harder: splitting firewood, carrying water, bringing in the autumn harvest, digging, and finally breaking in donkeys and mules. In short, every kind of punishing manual labor was thrown at them, leaving them aching all over and wishing they were dead.
For a full day's work, the men earned ten work points and the women eight. Ten work points were worth one yuan.
Lian Youming had still been hoping to study. Study, his ass.
But the thought of his family made him take paper and a pen from his luggage after work, intending to send a letter home. After all, he had been here for some time.
While sorting through the books he had brought, however, an old book suddenly fell out.
It was the very one Sun Duhe had given him on the train.
Lian Youming barely glanced at it. He picked it up to put it back, but halfway through extending his right hand, he suddenly murmured, "Huh?" His eyes fixed on the yellow-covered book.
Perhaps it had knocked against something; one corner of the old book's cover had lifted.
Lian Youming raised his eyebrows as though he had spotted something unexpected, then leaned closer for a careful look.
There... seemed to be something tucked inside.
He took a deep breath and peeled back the raised corner. Sure enough, there was a hidden layer beneath it, with a handkerchief-sized piece of Silk Brocade tucked inside.
As soon as he carefully spread out the brocade text, Lian Youming's pupils contracted sharply, then his eyes slowly widened.
His gaze settled on the few small characters at the beginning. They actually read...
"Twelve-Gate Golden Bell Shield."
"This is... a martial arts manual?"
His gaze sharpened, uncertainty and astonishment filling his mind. He forcibly steadied his burning excitement while quickly scanning the tiny writing.
Yet the farther Lian Youming read, the more the delight faded from his face. The astonishment in his eyes disappeared as well, replaced by confusion and bewilderment.
A long while passed.
"What the hell is any of this supposed to mean?"
Lian Youming recognized every individual character, but strung together, they left him staring blankly.
There was more than writing. There were twelve exquisitely detailed human figures, marked with the body's sinews, bones, meridian pathways, and the alignment of the muscles. Although it all looked wondrous, to him it might as well have been an indecipherable heavenly script.
"Hm?"
As Lian Youming examined it, he discovered another handwritten passage on the back of the Silk Brocade.
"Tiger Devours the World: strengthen qi through food."
A closer look revealed that this passage was even stranger. It was actually a method of dietary nourishment.
And the things it prescribed eating were all manner of oddities: yellow essence, fo-ti, lingzhi, wild ginseng, tiger bones, bear gall, and so on, forty or fifty ingredients in all. Some he had never seen in either this life or his previous one. Besides, certain things recorded here were not merely hard to find; even money could not buy them.
Not only that, these ingredients were combined into five recipes according to the medicinal properties of the five elements: metal, wood, water, fire, and earth.
Below the recipes was another passage.
"A human lifetime is like a single autumn for grass and trees, yet the cycle of flourishing and withering changes with qi. Compared with the young and strong, the old have declining qi and weary strength, leaving them without the power to sustain themselves; thus the flesh shows signs of aging. My method supplements this through food, nourishing the qi of the five organs. When qi is abundant, essence and blood are plentiful. When essence and blood are plentiful, sinews grow strong and bones healthy. Supplement this with the qi-swallowing method to forge the foundation of the five elements, and one may eat a tiger to become a tiger, drink a dragon to transform into a dragon, and swallow the world with qi."
The more Lian Youming read, the more astonished he became, though at least he understood it.
At the very end, however, were four inconspicuous characters.
"Left by someone surnamed Chen?"
Suppressing his puzzlement, he inspected the writing and figures on the Silk Brocade again with great care.
"The qi-swallowing method?"
But no matter how Lian Youming looked, he could find no qi-swallowing method.
"Is it missing? Or is the method something I can't understand?"
A thoughtful look entered his eyes, and he turned to take out the yellow-covered book again.
The old book had two covers, front and back. The first had concealed that piece of Silk Brocade; might the other conceal something too?
At that thought, Lian Youming did not hesitate. He hooked his fingertip into the gap in the cover and pried outward. To his surprise, it really lifted open.
Another piece of Silk Brocade was indeed hidden inside.
He focused on it, and sure enough-
"Three Yin Earth-Baleful Force."
"Internal martial arts amount to no more than two words: attack and defense. The path of attack lies in qi. The heart and lungs flourish through qi, blood surges through qi, and the limbs live through qi. Thus qi is the foundation of mastery over the flesh. Without qi, there is no force; without qi, there is no life."
"Yet the force cultivated here is not that of sinews and bones, but a breath of inner strength. When ordinary people eat, whether rare treasures of nature or delicacies from mountain and sea, they cannot fully absorb their essence. This is because the qi of the five organs is difficult to control, with deficiencies and damage leaving it inadequate. This qi-swallowing method can harness the five qi into force. Once some proficiency is attained, it will not only double the results of dietary nourishment with half the effort, but also, through the circulation of the five qi, transform everything swallowed into essence and qi to replenish the body within an extremely short time."
Lian Youming read with a slight frown, silently pondering.
According to what was recorded here, whatever ordinary people ate, they could never absorb all its nutrients; some were always lost. But practicing this art would greatly improve both digestive power and speed, allowing the greatest possible absorption of nutrients from food to replenish the body.
"But what are the five qi? And swallowing qi to produce force..."
He unconsciously exhaled softly, suddenly recalling the strange sight of that man breathing in and out in the train carriage.
"Could he have been swallowing qi?"
Lian Youming returned his gaze to the Silk Brocade and looked farther down, immediately finding the instructions. "Press the tongue to the roof of the mouth, swell the cheeks, hold saliva and draw in fluid, let qi enter the throat and tongue, Spirit Roaming the Three Yin Meridians..."
He only meant to try it instinctively, but the moment he drew a breath, cold air entered his throat like a cutting blade. A mouthful of saliva lodged in his throat as well, nearly choking him unconscious.
"Cough, cough..."
In an instant, Lian Youming's violent coughing extinguished all his intentions.
When he swallowed again, there was a bloody sweetness.
He had actually drawn blood.
Somewhat alarmed, Lian Youming said, "Does it have to be this sinister?"
Having obtained a martial arts manual by chance, Lian Youming was naturally overjoyed. It also brought fresh vitality to his life on the rural assignment.
More than half a month passed in a flash. October was approaching, the weather rapidly turned colder, and there was less work to do in the village.
Here, people lived off the mountains and waters around them. Apart from the busy spring and summer seasons, most of the village's able-bodied adults logged at the mountain logging camp or went hunting. Men and women alike, except for half-grown children, could practically all handle a gun. Every household had a homemade firearm, and the nearby villages were no different.
Lian Youming worked during the day and spent his nights huddled in his bedding, burning lamp oil as he studied the martial arts manuals.
One day, when it was time for the supplies sent to the logging camp every few days, the old Party secretary assigned Lian Youming and Wu Kui to take them up.
There was no other reason: Lian Youming was the best at handling the mules.
Tahe lay on the northern frontier. In winter, thrown water froze into ice, and other means of transport were of little use. Only donkey carts and mule carts remained practical.
Lian Youming had spent time in the countryside back home. His father had grown up in a village, fed by its many households, and its old people and men all counted as his elders. He had driven donkey carts and mule carts too.
Mules had the same temperament as donkeys: stubborn. Force would never work; they might even turn and bite. Lian Youming treated it like fishing, holding a stick with a couple of vegetable leaves dangling from the end. Without a single lash, the mule would start running on its own.
The logging camp was not far from Kaoshan Village. Depending on their pace, it was only two or three hours on foot.
Every year after spring planting, villagers and educated youths from the surrounding settlements went up the mountain to work as loggers, living and eating there until a few days before heavy snow sealed off the mountain. Essential supplies therefore had to be delivered by those below.
By now, autumn had come, and the vegetation was withering.
By the time the two delivered the supplies, it was already noon, so they intended to get lunch at the logging camp.
The logging camp was neither particularly large nor small. Many of the villagers working as loggers presumably had not returned from work, and it looked rather deserted.
Seeing no one around, Lian Youming picked a secluded spot to practice his punches and kicks. Besides some military killing and grappling techniques, he also copied several poses from the figures on the Silk Brocade.
As he moved through the poses, however, he caught sight of a figure flashing past a window at the back of the dining hall. Two distant barks followed.
Lian Youming immediately stopped practicing and followed the sound. Only then did he discover an open space hidden behind the wooden cookhouse, with six extremely dilapidated earthen houses along its edge and four nameless burial mounds.
"Brother Lian, time to eat!"
Before he could take a closer look, Wu Kui's shout drifted over from a distance. Lian Youming called back over his shoulder, then turned and left.
After eating, the two hurried straight back down the mountain.
As the weather grew colder, however, the loggers came down in early October. They still had to prepare for the winter scarcity, going into the mountains to hunt and stockpile food. With the cold leaving little work in the village, it was the educated youths' turn to go up and tidy what the loggers had left behind, repair damage and leaks in the houses, and move some of the felled timber.
Thus, more than twenty educated youths from several nearby villages gathered together. Following several mule carts loaded with supplies and escorted by militiamen, they headed up the mountain in a sizable procession.
Yet no sooner had they reached the logging camp than snowflakes began drifting from the sky. At first they were only scattered flurries, but in moments they filled the sky, coming down fiercely.
Without any delay, everyone quickly found their dormitories: two rooms for the women and four for the men.
Lian Youming, Wu Kui, and Liu Dabiao were assigned a room with two other male educated youths. By the time they dragged their weary bodies through the cleaning, it was completely dark. Fortunately, the earthen kang bed had already been heated.
So exhausted they seemed to lack even the strength to speak, everyone lay down and fell asleep.
The next day, the first light appeared.
Inside the dormitory, Lian Youming opened his eyes to the sound of someone pissing in a corner.
"Oh, come on. Can't you go outside to piss? That stinks."
Someone complained.
"You think I don't want to? Look outside-the snow's up to our calves... Besides, isn't there a piss bucket in here?"
At that, someone immediately flung off his bedding and shot upright, cursing irritably, "You bastard, that's the damn water bucket! Did everything those militiamen said last night go in one ear and out the other? They told us to fetch our own water, or it'd freeze."
"You can't blame me. It's too cold outside. Even piss could freeze into an icicle. What if it freezes before I'm finished?"
"Then what about relieving your bowels?"
"Relieving what bowels? Buddy, shitting is shitting. Why pretend you're some scholar? Take a stick with you. If it really freezes, you can knock it a few times and listen to it ring. Anyway, where are you fellows from? My brother and I are both from Four-Nine City. I'm Yu Wen, and my younger brother's Yu Wu."
"Shanghai. Wu Kui."
"Tianjin. Liu Dabiao."
Listening to the commotion, Lian Youming rather helplessly closed his eyes.
After the others had chattered over one another for a while, someone asked, "What about the last one?"
Seeing that it was his turn, Lian Youming answered, "Xijing. Lian Youming."
Since sleep was clearly impossible, he simply got up briskly, folded his quilt, tidied his luggage, and pushed the door open to step outside.
Beneath the gray sky, everything in sight was ice and snow.
The snow lay several feet deep, with deathly silence in every direction.
Before it was fully light, Lian Youming found a shovel and began gently clearing the snow outside the door.
"Brother Lian, could I ask you a favor?"
Suddenly, a head poked out of the dormitory. It belonged to a thin young man wearing thick black-framed glasses, his delicate features making him look like a young scholar.
It was Wu Kui.
"What is it?"
Somewhat embarrassed, Wu Kui said, "I need to relieve my bowels. Could you come with me?"
"Sure."
Lian Youming did not refuse. In fact, he was a few years younger than Wu Kui, but he was tall and sturdy. At 1.8 meters, he stood head and shoulders above the crowd.
Wu Kui brightened at his words, hurriedly put on his clothes, and squeezed through the gap in the door.
As the two headed toward the toilet, Lian Youming suddenly spotted a little hunchbacked old man practicing Taiji in the snow on a patch of open ground at the Logging Camp, his hands moving slowly, as though turning a millstone.
"There are other people here besides us?"
Wu Kui tucked his hands into his sleeves and hunched his neck, following Lian Youming's gaze. He could not help saying, "Never mind him. Just keep your distance from those people."
"Why?" Lian Youming was somewhat puzzled.
Wu Kui seemed to know something, but hesitated before saying, "You don't know? Some farms are reform farms. Some of the people in them might have been here for decades, and there's no telling what their backgrounds are. Anyway, we should just get on with our own work."
Lian Youming understood at once.
"That looks like Taiji boxing?"
He gave the old man a few more looks.
Wu Kui looked too. Seeing how feeble the old man's movements were, he curled his lip. "What kind of martial art is that? Looks to me like he'd struggle to swat a mosquito."
The old man's hair and beard were white, and his clothes were worn: a black padded jacket, black trousers, black shoes, and black socks, all black from head to toe. With his long face, bare brows, hooked nose, and knife-sharp eyes, he had a naturally fierce appearance.
But as Lian Youming watched the old man's hands, sometimes loosely encircling, sometimes sweeping inward, he found it stranger and stranger. It was cold out. As the two of them spoke, their breath turned frosty, white clouds streaming from their mouths and noses, yet the old man seemed not to be breathing at all.
"Huh? Something's odd."
(End of chapter)
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