Fresh alliance of an old pledge.

Original translation by Foxs

Huang Yaoshi reflected on how he’d incomprehensibly come into conflict with the Quanzhen Seven, and – even more incomprehensibly – established a deep grievance with them. There’d really been no reason for it at all. Seeing Mei Chaofeng wheezing ever fainter, he thought of the grudge he’d held for over a decade, and he felt a great, unbearable anguish within him. Tears began to fall.

A hint of a smile appeared on the corners of Mei Chaofeng’s lips. “Teacher,” she said, “please…treat me like that way you used to – the kind way you treated me before. I’ve wronged you: wronged you too much, too far! Let me be by your side forever…forever to serve you. I’m dying fast. Time’s almost up!” An imploring look covered her face.

Huang Yaoshi’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Very well, very well! I’ll treat you just like I did back when you were little,” he said. “So from today, Ruohua better be a good girl, and pay attention to what teacher says.”

Mei Chaofeng’s betrayal of school and teacher was the greatest regret of her life. But now, facing death, she had somehow gained forgiveness from her teacher, who was once again calling her by her childhood name of former days. Beside herself with joy, she clasped Huang Yaoshi’s right hand, gently trembling, in both of hers.

“Ruohua will pay attention forever,” she said. “Teacher, I want to learn how to be 12-year-old Ruohua again. Teacher, tell me how, tell me how…” She rose up with all her strength, determined to perform the rite of acknowledgement.

After her third kowtow, she stiffened, never to move again.

From the other room, Huang Rong had witnessed these heart-moving, soul-stirring events unfold in succession, but hoped only that her father would stay a bit longer so she could come out and meet him the moment Guo Jing was respiring smoothly. She watched as Huang Yaoshi stooped, about to gather Mei Chaofeng’s body in his arms.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a horse neighing outside – the sound, in fact, of Guo Jing’s Little Red. Then Sha Gu’s voice could be heard: “Well, this is Ox Village. How am I supposed to know if there’s someone here called ‘Guo’? Are you called ‘Guo’?” Someone else, in a hugely impatient tone, answered: “With such few households in the village, how come you don’t know everybody around here?”

At this, the door burst in, and several people entered.

Behind the open door, the look on Huang Yaoshi’s face suddenly changed: those entering were exactly who he’d been hunting as fruitlessly as if he’d been treading in broken iron shoes – the Six Freaks of Jiangnan. As it happened, they’d gone to Peachblossom Island for the appointment; but whether they turned east or west, they ended up in circles, and found no way into Huang Yaoshi’s residence. Later, they chanced upon one of the island’s mute servants, and realised there that he’d already left. When the Freaks saw the Little Red dashing around in the forest, Han Baoju brought it under control, and the six then came to Ox Village looking for Guo Jing.

The Freaks had just stepped through the doorway when ‘The Soaring Bat’ Ke Zhen’e, whose hearing was acute, suddenly sensed the sound of breathing coming from behind the door. “Someone’s here!” he shouted. The six turned around instantly, and got a big shock: Huang Yaoshi, carrying the dead body of Mei Chaofeng across his arms, stood blocking the doorway, as if to stop them from escaping.

Zhu Cong gave a deep bow. “Master Huang,” he said, his hands folded respectfully, “my best wishes to your good health! The six of us observed the summons to visit Peachblossom Island and pay our respects, but it so happened that the Master was engaged with other business. How fortunate it is that today our paths should cross here!”

Huang Yaoshi had just intended to strike immediately and kill the Six Freaks, but with a glance at the pale face of Mei Chaofeng, he reconsidered: “The Freaks were her mortal enemies. Today, she might have died the sooner, but I’ll enable her to kill off the Six with her own hands still. Should she learn of it in the netherworld, she’ll definitely be pleased.”

His right hand holding the corpse and his left hand raising her wrist, in a sudden flash he was bearing down on Han Baoju, aiming Mei Chaofeng’s palm at his right arm. In a panic, Han Baoju tried to dodge, but it was already too late: there was a loud crack as his arm took the hit. As if using Mei Chaofeng’s palm as a weapon, Huang Yaoshi channelled his martial arts through the dead hand, transmitting a massive force of astonishing power. Although it didn’t snap Han Baoju’s arm, it left half his body tingling in paralysis.

For the Freaks, nothing could be more horrifying: Huang Yaoshi, without a single word, had immediately advanced and issued a vicious strike – and using the corpse of Mei Chaofeng as a weapon, too. There was a chorus of shouts as each drew their armaments, but Huang Yaoshi couldn’t care less; raising high the body of Mei Chaofeng, he shot straight over, and Han Xiaoying was in the firing line. She saw the eyes of Mei Chaofeng, still round and staring after death – the long hair draping the shoulders, the mouth edged with brimming blood twisted in a terrifying grimace – and the right hand held high, then violently pounding down towards the top of her own head. Scared, her hands and feet went numb, dodging and blocking forgotten.

With the wave of a shoulderpole and the flick of a counterpoise, Nan Xiren and Quan Jinfa launched simultaneous attacks at Mei Chaofeng’s arm. Huang Yaoshi pulled back the right arm of the corpse and swung out with the left arm, hitting Han Xiaoying right in the waist. In pain, she squatted straight down. Han Baoju, tilting as he stepped up diagonally, unfurled his Golden Dragon Whip; but Huang Yaoshi strode forward with his left foot and stamped firmly on the whip’s point. Han Baoju tried to free it with a mighty pull, but how could he move it one iota? In the space of a blink, Mei Chaofeng’s claw was slashing at his face. Stunned, Han Baoju ditched the whip and recoiled, rolling away immediately. Feeling his face searing with agony, he touched it with his palm and saw it come away covered in fresh blood – five nail scars had already been gouged in him. It was fortunate that Mei Chaofeng was dead and therefore unable to unleash the 9 Yin White Bone Claw form, and that the fierce poison on her nails had dissipated with the exhaustion of her qi. Otherwise, this one claw would have been instantly fatal.

After just a few exchanges, it was as if the Freaks were fighting for their lives on every side. If it hadn’t been for Huang Yaoshi intending Mei Chaofeng to kill with her own hands in posthumous vengeance, and deciding to use her limbs to destroy the enemy, the Six would have died long ago or been taken to the edge of death by injury. And even so, the Six were still living breath-by-breath against the Master of Peachblossom Island, whose moves would come and go like a phantom’s.

In the other room, Guo Jing had been overjoyed when he heard Zhu Cong hailing Huang Yaoshi. But then, he’d listened as the seven fought, his six beneficient teachers panting for breath and crying out as they held on with all their strength. The situation was desperately critical. The qi in his dantian had yet to stabilise; but with the gratitude he owed to his teachers for raising him being no different to that he owed his parents, how could he just keep his hands in his sleeves? Immediately restricting his qi and concentrating his breath, he launched out a palm. There was a loud bang as his strike shattered the secret door.

Huang Rong was shocked. She’d seen that he hadn’t fully completed his progress – there was still a bit more effort left – and yet, at this point, he was using his strength to unleash a palm. Fearing he was endangering his life, she cried urgently: “Jing gege, don’t do it!”

As soon as Guo Jing had sent out the palm, he felt the qi in his dantian surge upwards, a heat firing his insides. He hurried to restrain and close in the qi, forcing his inner breath hard back into his dantian.

Seeing the cupboard door suddenly shatter and reveal Guo Jing and Huang Rong, Huang Yaoshi and the Six Freaks leapt back from each other, startled and delighted at the same time.

Suddenly seeing his beloved daughter, Huang Yaoshi was unsure if he was dreaming. He rubbed his eyes. “Rong’er, Rong’er,” he called out, “is it really you?”

Huang Rong, still holding one palm enjoined with Guo Jing’s left, gave a slight smile and nodded her head, but said nothing. At this, Huang Yaoshi’s joy exceeded all expectation; putting other thoughts behind him, he laid Mei Chaofeng’s body down on a bench, went over to the cupboard, and sat down cross-legged. One touch of his daughter’s wrist, and he felt her pulse and breathing firm and steady. Then, reaching through the cupboard doorway, he pressed his left palm against Guo Jing’s right.

The many currents of sizzling qi boiling and bubbling inside Guo Jing’s body were already unbearable in the extreme; by this point, there’d been several times when he’d wanted to leap up screaming and shouting to relieve the pressure. When Huang Yaoshi’s palm came to enjoin with his, a stream of inner power flowed through with tremendous force, and instantly he felt a gradual settlement. Using his right hand, Huang Yaoshi set about kneading and massaging all the critical acupoints on Guo Jing; so profound was his neigong that, in just the time it took to make a bowl of rice, he had saved Guo Jing’s life.

Guo Jing, now regulating his qi with miraculous ease and circulating his inner breath freely, leapt through the cupboard doorway, bowed towards Huang Yaoshi, and immediately went to kowtow to his six teachers.

On the one side, Guo Jing was telling his teachers about the ins and outs of the situation; on the other side, Huang Yaoshi was leading his daughter by the hand and listening to her giggly chatter, her narrative punctuated with laughter. At first, the Freaks followed what Guo Jing was saying. But he was a dull talker, struggling to convey what he meant in words. Huang Rong, however, not only had a clear, crisp voice, but also a splendid turn of phrase; and when she got to the thrilling bits, her depictions scintillated with a hundred extra tones and colours. One by one, the Six involuntarily went over to listen; Guo Jing, too, finally shut up, turning from a speaker to a listener. Huang Rong did almost an hour’s worth of talking. With her expressions taking full flight – now grave, now comic – everybody listened enraptured to her pearls of wit, as if savouring a charming vintage wine.

Huang Yaoshi, upon hearing his beloved daughter had somehow become the Chief of the Beggar Gang, was utterly bewildered. “What a bizarre move from Brother Qi!” he remarked. “And how heretical of him! Perhaps he’s thinking of stealing my nickname – no longer being the ‘Northern Beggar’, and instead being the ‘Northern Heretic’? The ‘Five Greats’ would then be the ‘Eastern Beggar’, ‘Western Venom’, ‘Southern Emperor’, ‘Northern Heretic’, and ‘Central Who-Knows-What?’”

Her tale having reached the fight between Huang Yaoshi and the Freaks, Huang Rong gave a laugh. “That’s all,” she said. “There’s no use me saying what happened next!”

Huang Yaoshi announced: “I’m going to go and kill those four bastards Ouyang Feng, Lingzhi, Qiu Qianren and Yang Kang. Come with me and watch the fun, kid.” He was talking about killing people, but because he was looking fondly upon his beloved daughter, his face was all smiles.

Taking a glance at the Freaks, he felt rather contrite. Yet although he knew himself to be clearly in the wrong, he was still unwilling to hang his head and admit a fault to anyone, only offering: “The movement of qi hasn’t turned out too badly. It didn’t make me harm someone good by accident.”

As for Huang Rong, she’d originally resented the Freaks for prohibiting Guo Jing from getting married with her. But now that Mu Nianci and Yang Kang had gotten engaged, this issue had already been resolved. “Daddy,” she giggled, “how about admitting to the teachers that you made a mistake?”

Huang Yaoshi gave a snort. “I’m going to go and find Western Venom,” he said, changing the subject. He added: “Jing’er, you come too.”

Fundamentally, he felt deeply displeased at this crude, block-headed Guo Jing. “I, Huang Yaoshi, am absolutely brilliant,” he had mused. “But with such a dumbass as a son-in-law, wouldn’t that make those in wulin laugh their lips off?” He had consented to the engagement with great difficulty. It then so happened that Zhou Botong, not telling apart the silly and the serious, had cracked a reckless joke claiming Guo Jing had borrowed Mei Chaofeng’s 9 Yin Scripture and made a copy. In the midst of his rage, he had believed this to be true, and was furious at Guo Jing’s dirty underhandedness. But after having sent off Hong Qigong, Ouyang Feng, Zhou Botong and the others, he’d immediately realised that the text of the second-volume scripture that Guo Jing had learnt was far clearer than that in the second volume held by Mei Chaofeng. Moreover, this was without considering ‘let alone nowadays’, and so on. Guo Jing just couldn’t have copied from Mei Chaofeng’s handwritten text, and anyway, Huang Yaoshi had known long ago that Zhou Botong was telling lies. Later, he’d mistakenly believed Lingzhi’s made-up news of Huang Rong’s death.

Now, wild with joy at finally seeing his beloved daughter again, the grievance he held against the Freaks had momentarily vanished. It was just that he was unwilling to admit a fault or to make an apology; but he hoped in future to be able to help them with some serious matter, as a way of making amends.

Looking back on Mei Chaofeng who, in sacrificing herself to save him from great ruin, had not forgotten her gratitude to her teacher – not unto death – he pondered: “Ruohua and her martial brother Xuanfeng were in love. If they’d come and informed me about it, and petitioned to marry, I wouldn’t necessarily have forbidden them. There was no need to be rash and take the big risk of running away from Peachblossom Island. But I’ve been moody throughout my life, never settling on joy or rage. The two of them must have considered it from every angle, and – in the end – didn’t dare to open their mouths. Now suppose Rong’er, because of this eccentric temper of mine, were to end up just like Ruohua…” The thought made him shudder. By calling out this word “Jing’er”, he was actually acknowledging Guo Jing as son-in-law.

Huang Rong was delighted. From the corner of her eye, she glanced at Guo Jing, who looked totally unaware of the implications held by this one-word title of “Jing’er”. “Dad,” she said, “let’s go to the palace first and bring teacher out.”

At this point, Guo Jing confessed to his teachers about Huang Yaoshi assenting to the marriage on Peachblossom Island, as well as the situation with Hong Qigong accepting him as a disciple. A pleased Ke Zhen’e said: “You’ve somehow set things up so that you can call The Divine Nine-Fingered Beggar your teacher, and you’ve duped the Master of Peachblossom Island into letting you marry his beloved daughter. We’re more than happy with it; where’s the sense in refusing? It’s just that the Mongolian Khan…” Recalling that Genghis Khan had granted Guo Jing the title ‘Prince Consort of the Golden Blade’, this was now something of an awkward matter which, if brought up, would surely provoke Huang Yaoshi into fury. For a moment, he wondered how he could mention it.

Suddenly, there was a creak as the main door was pushed open; in came Sha Gu laughing, holding a piece of yellow vellum twisted into the shape of a monkey.

“Sister,” she said to Huang Rong, “are you done eating watermelons? Oldie asked me to give you this monkey to play with.”

Huang Rong, assuming Sha Gu was just being silly and thinking nothing of it, reached out and took the paper monkey. Sha Gu added: “Hairy oldie says don’t get angry; he’ll definitely find teacher for you.” When Huang Rong heard that she was obviously talking about Zhou Botong, she looked at the monkey and saw that there were words written on the paper. Hurrying to unravel it, the following was revealed in a crooked scrawl over the surface:

Old Beggar was nowhere I looked,

Old Urchin was ever so good.

Huang Rong gave a worried gasp. “How come he didn’t see teacher?” she said.

Huang Yaoshi muttered to himself for a while. “Old Urchin might be deranged,” he said, finally, “but his martial arts are terrific. As long as Qigong’s still alive, he can surely rescue him. More immediately, the Beggar Gang are facing a big problem.”

“What problem?” asked Huang Rong.

Huang Yaoshi replied: “The bamboo stick the old beggar gave you was taken away by Yang Kang. Although that brat’s martial arts aren’t great, he’s still a nasty scoundrel; even such a person as Ouyang Ke died by his hand. Now he’s got hold of the bamboo stick, he’ll definitely go stirring up a storm, to make trouble for the Beggar Gang. We ought to catch up with him and retrieve it, or else the old beggar’s brethren are going to suffer generations of serious hardship – and you, as chief, won’t be reflected in glory.”

Normally, the Beggar Gang being in trouble wouldn’t prey on Huang Yaoshi’s mind in the slightest; on the contrary, he’d rejoice in their disaster and take pleasure in their ruin, seeing it as a great spectacle of fun. But now that his beloved daughter had become the Chief of the Beggar Gang, how could he still keep his hands in his sleeves?

One after the other, the Six Freaks nodded their heads. “But he’s already been gone for days,” said Guo Jing. “I’m worried catching up will be hard.”

Han Baoju pointed out: “Your Little Red horse is here – just when you could use it!”

Delighted, Guo Jing rushed out the door and made a whistle to summon it. Seeing its owner, the red horse bounded and galloped over, brushing up close against him and neighing incessantly with excitement.

“Rong’er,” said Huang Yaoshi, “you and Jing’er hurry and grab that bamboo stick. This red horse goes at a speedy pace; I expect you’ll soon catch up.”

Having said this, he noticed a smiling Sha Gu standing by the side, with an expression exactly like that of Qu Lingfeng, his own disciple. A thought occurred to him. “Are you called ‘Qu’?” he asked her.

Sha Gu laughed and shook her head. “Don’t know,” she said. Huang Yaoshi had long been aware that his disciple Qu Lingfeng had a daughter, and calculated that her age also appeared to fit.

“Dad,” said Huang Rong, “come and look!” Leading him by the hand, she went into the secret room.

Huang Yaoshi, seeing that the separated arrangement of the secret room was completely in a pattern he himself had originated, felt that it was surely the work of Qu Lingfeng.

“Dad,” said Huang Rong, “take a look at the things in that iron chest. If you can figure out what they are, I guess that makes you an expert!”

But Huang Yaoshi ignored the iron chest. Going over to the southwest corner and lifting up the sideboard at the foot of the wall, he revealed a cavity. Reaching inside, he pinched out a scroll of paper and right away leaped out of the secret room. Huang Rong hastily followed him out. Coming up behind her father, she saw the scroll unfolded in his hands, the paper’s surface covered in dust and its edges browned and broken. Written on it, in crooked handwriting, were a few rows of words:

Addressed most respectfully to venerable senior Master Huang of

Peachblossom Island:

Disciple has acquired, from within the palace, assorted calligraphy,

paintings, and other artefacts, which he wishes to present for Master’s

appreciation.

Disciple respectfully refers to ‘Master’, not daring the presumption

to utter ‘beneficient teacher’ – even if, in disciple’s dreams, he still utters

‘beneficient teacher’ yet.

Misfortune has had it that disciple was encircled by palace guards,

and is survived by a daughter…

The writing having reached the word “daughter”, there was nothing further – except for a few splattered marks which could faintly be discerned as bloodstains.

At the time of Huang Rong’s birth, all the disciples had already suffered expulsion from Peachblossom Island, and Qu Lingfeng had suffered it the earliest. Huang Rong, knowing that each person under the tutelage of her father had been a terrific individual, couldn’t help feeling alarmed at seeing today this report left behind by Qu Lingfeng.

By now, Huang Yaoshi had already understood the heart of it. He knew that, after Qu Lingfeng had been expelled from his teaching, he had agonised hard over gaining readmittance to the school of Peachblossom Island. Recalling that Huang Yaoshi was fond of treasures, antiques, and samples from the work of famous painters, he had taken the risk of going to the imperial palace and committing robbery. This had gone favourably for a few times, but in the end, he had been discovered by the imperial guards. After a fierce fight, he had sustained a serious wound; returning home to write his final will, he must have struggled to finish it because of the seriousness of his injury. When, not long after, the master guardsman came in in pursuit, both sides ended up dying right here.

Huang Yaoshi was already remorseful after having seen Lu Chengfeng that last time. Now, with the recent death of Mei Chaofeng and the sight of such dedication from Qu Lingfeng, he felt even more guilt. Turning his head and spotting the grinning Sha Gu standing behind him, he had a thought. “Did your father teach you how to fight?” he asked, in a stern voice.

Sha Gu shook her head; running over to the door, she closed it and then furtively took peep after peep through the crack in the doorway, throwing a few punching moves. But as the punches came and went, they were all of the same six or seven unpolished moves from the ‘Blue Wave Palm’ form, and nothing else.

“Dad,” Huang Rong commented, “she taught herself by spying when Martial Brother Qu was practicing martial arts.”

Huang Yaoshi nodded his head, murmuring: “I expected Lingfeng wouldn’t have such a nerve as to dare pass one’s martial arts to others after having left my tutelage.” He added: “Rong’er, try attacking her footwork. Trip her up.”

Huang Rong stepped up, giggling. “Sha Gu,” she said, “let’s practice some martial arts. Look out!”

Throwing a feint with her left palm, she immediately followed with a ‘Matching Ducks Joined by a Ring’, launching two kicks with unrivalled speed. Sha Gu, dumbstruck, had already taken Huang Rong’s left kick on her right hip before she hurriedly stepped back. But she didn’t know that Huang Rong’s right leg, placed in advance, was waiting behind her; she was still unsteady from her step back when her momentum made her trip and she toppled face-up.

Leaping up immediately, she shouted: “You cheated! Little sister, let’s go again.”

Huang Yaoshi’s face darkened. “Who’s the ‘little sister’?” he said. “It’s ‘auntie’!”

Sha Gu, who didn’t know the difference between “sister” and “auntie” anyway, laughed. “Auntie! Auntie!” she said, obediently.

Huang Rong had already understood. She thought: “Daddy basically wanted me to test her footwork. Both of Martial Brother Qu’s legs were broken, so when he was practicing martial arts by himself, he obviously didn’t practice using his legs and feet; therefore, Sha Gu wouldn’t have been able to spy on any footwork. If he had trained her personally, then he’d have taught her skills for all areas: upper-body, mid-section, and footwork.”

By calling out the word “auntie”, Huang Yaoshi was finally accepting Sha Gu back under his tutelage. “Why the heck are you so silly?” he asked her.

She laughed: “I’m Sha Gu!”

Huang Yaoshi scowled. “Where’s your mum?”

Sha Gu put on a crying face, answering: “Gone to granny’s place.”

Huang Yaoshi then asked seven or eight questions in a row, but he didn’t get anything that mattered. He could only give a sigh and leave it at that. When Qu Lingfeng was still in his tutelage, he was aware that he had a silly daughter who wasn’t very bright. That, for sure, was Sha Gu.

There and then, they buried Mei Chaofeng in the back garden. Guo Jing and Huang Rong carried out the skeleton of Qu Lingfeng and buried it next to Mei Chaofeng. Although the Six Freaks were mortal enemies with the ‘Twin Spectres of the Black Winds’, the death of a person was what was important; they too all kowtowed before the grave, offering wishes and dismissing their prior grievance.

Huang Yaoshi, gazing at the two new graves for a long while, felt a hundred feelings mixed together. “Rong’er,” he said, sadly, “let’s go and look at your Martial Brother Qu’s treasures.” At that, father and daughter walked back into the secret room.

Looking at the things Qu Lingfeng had left behind, Huang Yaoshi was silent for a long time. Shedding tears, he said: “Among the disciples under my tutelage, Lingfeng had the strongest martial arts and the brightest mind. If his legs hadn’t been broken, even one hundred palace guards wouldn’t have been able to hurt him.”

“That’s a matter of course,” said Huang Rong. “Dad, are you going to teach Sha Gu martial arts personally?”

“I’ll teach her martial arts,” he murmured. “And I’ll teach her verse-writing, qin-playing, the mysteries of the five elements…All the skills that back then your Martial Brother Qu wanted to learn but didn’t learn – I’ll teach her, comprehensively.”

Huang Rong stuck out her tongue, and thought: “Heretical thoughts from a heretical man! Daddy’s letting himself in for a lot of stress.”

Huang Yaoshi opened the iron chest, looking through it layer by layer. The more valuable the treasures, the more sorrow he felt. Seeing rolled-up paintings and calligraphy, he sighed, remarking: “No doubt it’s great to use this stuff as a pleasing diversion from frustration, but as for expending one’s will over playthings – that must never happen. How fine were the pictures of flowers, birds and figures painted by the Taoist ruler, Emperor Huizong! Yet having depicted the rivers and mountains in all their splendour, he rolled them up and gifted them to the Jins.” As he spoke, he furled and unfurled the scrolls. “Eh?” he said, suddenly.

Huang Rong asked: “Dad, what is it?”

Huang Yaoshi pointed out a landscape in splash-ink, saying: “Look here!”

In the painting was a towering mountain, with a total of five steep peaks. Among them, one peak was outstandingly tall – bolt upright and pointing to the heavens, it pierced the clouds with its colossal height and overlooked a deep chasm below. A row of pine trees grew by the mountainside. Twigs tipped with snow, each winding trunk curved to the south, suggesting the utter ferocity of the north wind. To the west of the summit was a lone pine: old, but stiff and upstanding, and rising with an elegant majesty. Beneath this pine, vermilion brushstrokes profiled a general, twirling his sword in the face of the wind. The figure’s features were hard to discern, but the sleeves of his clothes rose in a flutter, and his bearing escaped the ordinary. The entire picture was a monochromatic landscape, but this man alone was a firey, blackish red – making him seem all the more outstanding and exceptional.

The painting was without a signature. It was annotated only with the following poem:

My clothing covered with the marks of many years,

In special search of em’rald haven’s fragrant heights,

I’ve never seen enough of hills and rivers fine,

As cavalry by moonlight hurries to retreat.

A few days ago, Huang Rong had seen this poem as written down by Han Shizhong on the Emerald Haven Pavilion in Lin’an, and recognised the handwriting. “Dad,” she said, “this was written by Han Shizhong. The verses are of the late, mighty Yue.”

Huang Yaoshi nodded. “That’s right, my clever Rong’er!” he said. “But this poem of the late Yue was actually describing the ‘emerald haven’ of the mountains in Chizhou. The mountains in the painting make a treacherous scene; they’re no ‘emerald haven’ at all. Although this painting’s style has a fine firmness, it’s short on implication and tasteful accent; it’s not by the hand of a master.”

That day at the Emerald Haven Pavilion, Huang Rong had seen Guo Jing – reluctant to leave – tracing his fingers along the stone inscription and brushing over the remains of Han Shizhong’s handwriting. Knowing that he’d be fond of it, she said: “Dad, let Guo Jing have this painting.”

Huang Yaoshi laughed. “Girls, by birth, are extroverts,” he said. “What else is there to say?”

Handing it over to her freely, he reached into the iron chest again and picked up a necklace, remarking: “This string of pearls is each and every one of the same size; that’s truly hard to come by.” After he gave it to Huang Rong to wear around her neck, she threw herself into his arms, and he reached out and held her in a hug. Father and daughter smiled at each other, nestling cheek against cheek, both feeling a never-ending warmth.

Huang Rong had just rolled up the painting when suddenly, she heard several harsh, urgent cries of eagles overhead.

Huang Rong, who was highly fond of that pair of white eagles, remembered that they’d already been taken back by Huazheng, and felt very unhappy. Wanting to play with them again for a bit, she emerged from the secret room in a hurry.

Outside the doorway, she saw Guo Jing standing under the big willow tree, one eagle pulling the shoulder of his clothes with its beak and leading him somewhere, the other eagle circling him and crying repeatedly. Sha Gu, watching in amusement, was wheeling round and round Guo Jing, clapping and giggling.

Guo Jing had an agitated look. “Rong’er,” he said, “they’re in trouble! Let’s hurry and go save them!”

“Who?” asked Huang Rong.

Guo Jing replied: “My sworn brother and sister!”

Huang Rong threw a pout with her