Tiger (14 page)

“Do you think you've got it?” Fu asked.

Ma nodded his head.

“Good,” Fu said. “As you can see, it is a simple front kick. But if you do it fast enough and hard enough, it is nearly impossible to stop. If you find you have to use it anytime soon, I suggest you aim for one of your opponent's knees. If you keep the kick low, you will maintain your balance easier. Also, most people won't expect it low, which makes it very effective. Just don't forget that it is important to stay rooted when you do this or any other kick or punch because you are transmitting energy. If you were to use only the strength of your muscles against an opponent, it would certainly have an effect. But if you stay rooted and pull energy from the whole earth, it will have a much greater effect. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Ma replied.

Fu nodded his head. “Now, there are two more
things you must always remember. First, you should only fight as a last resort, and only when necessary. All right?”

Ma looked sideways. “Sure.”

“Promise me,” said Fu.

Ma looked back at Fu. “Okay. I promise.”

Fu took a deep breath. “The other thing is perhaps even more important. For every action, there is an equal, opposing reaction. This applies to life, as well as the fighting arts. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Ma said.

“Are you sure?” asked Fu.

“Of course I'm sure,” Ma replied, swinging his arms. “Now, is this lesson over? I'm getting hungry.”

“The lesson is over whenever you say it is over,” Fu said. “I am the one stuck in the cage. You can walk away at any time. However, it was my own teachers' custom to conclude all training sessions with a question from each student. Do you have a question for me?”

Ma scratched his head, then smiled. “Do you like pork inside your steamed breakfast buns, Teacher? Or do you prefer chicken?”

“
M
ajor Ying!” Commander Woo shouted. “We have visitors this morning! They bring news of a captured monk!”

Ying stopped sharpening his toenails and looked over at the Cangzhen main gate. Commander Woo and Captain Yue stood just beyond it, side by side. Not to be outdone, Captain Yue added, “The visitors are from the same village I went to, sir! I recognize one of them!”

Ying sighed and stood up from the low bench next to the fire pit. He saw two men in gray peasant's robes come into view. Commader Woo grabbed the arm of the first man and yanked him toward the gate. Captain Yue latched onto the second man, but the
man shrugged him off. Captain Yue coughed and adjusted his hat. He remained behind as Commander Woo led the two villagers through the gate.

“What news do you bring?” Ying asked as the men approached. His tongue wriggled inside his mouth and the villagers jumped but did not answer. They both stared at Ying, wide-eyed.

Commander Woo squeezed the first man's arm. The man yelped.

“Answer the question,” Commander Woo said.

“We… aaah …bring news of a captured young monk, Major Ying,” the man said, cowering. “And news of your scrolls.”

Ying leaned his head to the side. “You have the boy
and
the scrolls?”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied, looking down at Ying's feet. He shuddered.

Ying's eyes narrowed. “How many scrolls are there?”

“Four, sir,” the villager said.

“And what do they look like?”

The man looked up at Ying, surprised. “No one dared open them, sir. We thought it best to stay out of your business.”

Ying grinned. “All right, then, describe the boy.”

“He is, well, rather large for his age. He appears to be about twelve years old. He is bald and wears an orange monk's robe. He has a deep, gravelly voice. He—”

“Is there anything wrong with his face?” Ying asked.

The villager paused. “What… aaah … exactly do you mean by
wrong,
sir?”

“Does he have any distinguishing marks
on his face!”

“He has a … aaah … long, handsome scar forming across one cheek. Much like you have, sir.”

Ying's carved face grew dark. “Enough! This man appears to be telling the truth.” Ying looked over at the gate. Captain Yue was standing there, staring at his reflection in the rain barrel.

“Captain Yue,” Ying shouted. “Get over here! Now!”

Captain Yue sprinted over.

Ying rubbed his forehead. “Commander Woo, you still have work to do here, and Tonglong is out on a special mission. I guess I will have to leave this in your hands, Captain Yue. You failed miserably the first time you went to that village. This will be your chance to redeem yourself. Take fifty men and return to the village to collect the young monk and the scrolls. Bring them back here. If you fail again, you will answer to me—and not even your horse will stand between us. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Captain Yue said. He swallowed hard.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ying snarled. “Choose your men, mount that demon stallion of yours, and GO!”

T
he day was drawing to a close, and the entire village was gathered in the square watching Fu teach nearly one hundred children one kung fu technique each from inside the cage. There were boys and girls alike, each taking a turn standing just outside the cage bars for their personal instruction. Several of the boys complained about girls being involved until Fu told them that he would not teach any of the boys anything if they didn't stop complaining. Moreover, he informed the boys that more than a few women had been “nuns” at temples throughout China, including the famous Shaolin Temple. Fu assured the boys that if they ever crossed paths with a warrior “nun,” they would want to be sure to keep their
negative thoughts about girls to themselves.

The whole time, there was much talk among the parents as to whether Fu's kung fu course should be stopped immediately—especially with girls involved. However, in the end, most of the parents agreed that since no one had gotten hurt and the kids seemed to be enjoying themselves, the training could continue. The day was warm, and the atmosphere in the square was pleasant. The same could not be said for the atmosphere inside the bun vendor's shop. It was hot in there. Very hot, indeed.

“I say we let him go,” one man said. “He's obviously not a bad kid. He just made a mistake.”

“Not a bad kid?” another shouted. “Look at poor little Ho! He's been sitting in that corner all day with one ear cocked in our direction because his other one doesn't work!”

Ho stood up and shouted back across the crowded room. “My head has been straight for hours! Not cocked! And I already told you—my hearing is returning!”

The Governor stood and put his hand on Ho's shoulder. The room quieted down. The Governor leaned over.

“What has gotten into you, son? I've never seen you like this before.”

Ho plopped back down in his chair. “I've never been this upset before, Father. I hate when people argue, and I really hate when people argue over me.
I'm the one who has suffered most, and I still think we should let the monk go. Just as long as he promises not to attack anyone from our village ever again. What's done is done. Past is past. That's what you always say, isn't it?”

The Governor sat down, facing Ho. He rested his forearms on his knees. “That is very big of you, son. But it's not that simple. There are a lot of politics involved. The main thing is, I've already sent two men to inform Major Ying of the young monk's capture. If soldiers arrive to collect him and he's not here, the soldiers will be very, very angry. So angry, in fact, that they may destroy our entire village. I've seen it before.”

A man in the crowd said bitterly, “So what are we going to do, Governor? Just hand the boy over—and sentence him to
death?”

“Don't be ridiculous!” someone shouted. “We don't know that he will be killed.”

“They killed all his brothers and destroyed his entire temple!” another shouted back. “That's what that captain said! I say we let the monk go. If the soldiers give us a hard time, we'll just say that the boy escaped.”

“If he ‘escapes,' the entire village will be destroyed!”

“You don't know that! You wouldn't know a—”

The voices inside the bun shop grew louder and louder. So loud, in fact, that Fu heard every word. He
knew he had to do something to help make things right, but what? He was struggling to come up with a plan when Ma appeared carrying a terra-cotta roasting pot.

“Here,” Ma said, forcing the pot between the bars of the cage. “I asked my mother to make this for you. It's her famous Greasy Goose. I also brought you a needle and some thread to fix your robe and your pants.”

“Thanks,” Fu said. He made a strange face as he reached for the items.

“I know, sewing is woman's work,” Ma said. “But you really should cover yourself up better.”

Sewing wasn't the reason Fu had made the face. Everyone had a job at Cangzhen, and Fu's happened to be mending everyone else's torn robes and pants. He was actually quite good at it. It was the food that made his face turn sour. Fu removed the lid and winced. Though he loved chicken and even duck, he had problems with goose. Especially Greasy Goose. The one time he'd eaten it, his stomach hadn't been the same for an entire day. Fu put the lid back on the pot and pushed it aside.

“Aaah … thank you very much,” Fu said. “I'll… eat it later.”

“Later?” Ma said. “Aren't you hungry? My mother made it just for you, you know. She feels sorry for you. She said no child should ever be locked in a cage.”

Fu lowered his eyes. “Please tell your mother I said thank you very much, but…”

“But
what?”
Ma asked, irritated.

Just then, the wind picked up and blew the Greasy Goose aroma in Fu's direction. His stomach turned.

“But… nothing,” Fu said, looking up. He had just thought of a plan. “Please tell your mother I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank her!”

Fu tossed the pot's heavy lid aside and grabbed the entire goose with both hands. He tore into it, eating as fast as his jaws would chew. In no time, his stomach began to grumble loudly. His plan, it seemed, was in motion.

“
G
entlemen, it's time we go home to our families,” said the Governor to everyone assembled inside the bun vendor's shop. “We can continue this discussion tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” said most of the men.

As they filed into the village square, their noses began to recoil. A few men gagged. Something smelled very very unpleasant.

“Oh, my stomach!” Fu called out. “Owwww….”

The Governor shook his head. He removed a torch that burned outside the shop's front door and walked over to the cage. Several men followed. So did Ho.

“What on earth did you eat, young man?” the
Governor asked Fu as he approached the cage, holding his nose.

“A gift from Ma's mother,” Fu replied. He rocked back and forth, his arms wrapped around himself. “I believe Ma called it Greasy Goose. I'm afraid my stomach isn't accustomed to such rich food.”

The Governor shook his head. “Tomorrow I might be able to persuade the village pharmacist to mix up a tea to settle your stomach.
If
you continue to behave. But I am afraid you are on your own tonight. There is nothing I can do for you.”