(Day 42)

  “Forty-two…”, Pengfei said to himself, stretching his neck as he walked. More than a month ago, Chen Ji’s belligerent ranting had led to a revelation. One thousand days until the Kunlun sect leaves the isolated mountains, returns to Qinghai and the martial society of the Jianghu. And since then –

  --Forty-two days have passed. And it doesn’t feel like I’ve gotten much accomplished. Not that I really need to.--

  The only deadline was a self-imposed one. Pengfei had set aside the mysteries that had bumped up against him. The message he had carried from the Qingcheng sect, the black-robed strangers who had killed his friends. The question of whether to pursue answers and revenge.

  Part of it was redundant now. Ma Feng’s killer lay dead in a canyon not far away, rotting. That little bit of justice came as a surprise. But he still had to decide whether to pursue it further.

  --Said I would make up my mind when it was time to leave this mountain. Forty-two days closer to that decision… Fuck it. That’s a problem for future me.--

  He shook the worries from his mind, and the movement became a shiver against the cold. Spring was on the horizon now, but the warmth hadn’t come to the mountains yet. The sky was crystal clear, not a cloud in sight. Bright sun. But the clarity of the atmosphere made the low temperature seem even sharper. It wouldn’t be so jarring if he hadn’t spent the last several hours indoors. One of the empty storehouses, undergoing painful instruction from Chen Ji.

  Pengfei’s body ached from the grappling style the elder was passing down. ‘The Kunlun Wishful Hand’. This time, it was the neck that was throbbing. Half a dozen varieties of chokes and strangles left him stiff. So, when Jin Fan clapped a hand down on Pengfei’s shoulder, it sent a jolt of pain down his shoulder and up to his eyes.

  “Shit! What are you doing?”

  “I wanted to talk to you. Where are you headed?” The disciple had a harsh face. Sharp cheekbones, a prominent jaw. But he was easy-going beneath the angular fa?ade.

  “Back to my dormitory. I want to check something before afternoon training.”

  “Neng isn’t one of your bunkmates, is he?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  That pricked at Pengfei’s ears but he let it pass without remark. They walked in silence for a few seconds, both bundling up against a slight but painful breeze. They reached the building quickly, Pengfei held the door open for his companion then stepped inside and pulled it shut.

  “What did you want to talk about?” Pengfei asked as he led the way to his bedroll in the back corner.

  Jin Fan seemed to be searching for a beginning. “How seriously do you take your job? I know you and your friends are working on this horse thing… but what about the Discipline Hall?”

  “I don’t know.” Pengfei shrugged and ducked down to fetch his bag. “There’s not really much disciplining to do. Seems kind of pointless. Maybe when a new generation of disciples join the sect we can keep them in line.”

  “Right, right. Keep them from sneaking off to town, gambling. Bullying each other. That kind of thing?”

  Pengfei nodded as he searched through his personal possessions. “Yeah… would have been nice to have something like that a few months ago when I was getting the shit kicked out of me.”

  “Exactly.” Fan agreed. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. That sort of thing still happens from time to time. And since we’re in the Discipline Hall now, maybe we should do something about it. I know you went through this, so I figured you might have a little perspective. And since your friend is the problem – “

  “My friend?” Pengfei interjected in surprise, racking his brain and then settling on the clear suspect. “Fucking Nanxi… he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. He just has a five-year-old’s sense of humor. What did he do?”

  “No, not him. I’m talking about Neng.”

  Pengfei absent-mindedly grabbed the book he was looking for, tucked it into his robes, and stood to look at Jin Fan sternly.

  “What are you talking about? Neng isn’t like that.”

  Fan didn’t falter. He met Pengfei’s gaze and continued. “He’s been giving people a hard time recently on the practice grounds.”

  “He just takes martial arts seriously. It’s not – “

  “It’s more than that. We’ve all been doing this for a long time. Longer than you. We can all handle some rough training every now and then. But he’s going beyond that.” Pengfei started to protest, but Fan held out a hand to silence him. “I’m not trying to make an issue out of nothing. But people are starting to talk. Just pay attention next time there’s a sparring session and let me know what you think.”

  With that, Jin Fan turned and walked towards the dormitory’s exit but stopped at the door.

  “You’re going to town soon, right? With the others?”

  “Next month.”

  “I hope we can figure things out by then. I don’t want to mess with your friend if I don’t have to, but if you’re not around to keep an eye on him and something happens…”

  “I don’t think you’d be a match for him.”

  Jin Fan sighed. “Yeah, I know. But still.” He stepped outside and closed the door behind him, leaving Pengfei conflicted, confused, and alone.

  ******************************************************************************

  Horse stance, to bow stance. Qilin steps crossing over, slide to cat and then one-legged crane. The postures came more fluidly now.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The manual of Shaolin’s ‘Arhat Fist’ was open to another page. A footwork diagram that traced out the path of one of the style’s forms. Pengfei performed the movements as Chen Rulan read by the light of his lamp, though more often than not he was observing the boy’s martial arts over the top of his book.

  The process had been a strange one. Teacher and student both still conformed to the roles of their little play. Each pretended that these evening sessions were for the purpose of transcribing a new manual. Just copying the elder’s treasured text to a fresh booklet. For sentimental reasons.

  So, Pengfei felt awkward breaking through that invisible barrier to ask his questions. But it was necessary. Martial arts were filled with complexities and intricacies that could only be resolved with the aid of someone more experienced. Pengfei paused to voice what weighed on his mind.

  “Sir, is it alright for me to be learning another sect’s martial arts? I mean, am I allowed? Are Shaolin’s martial arts compatible with Kunlun”

  “Allowed? Yes. Compatible? Yes and no.” Chen Rulan spoke without looking up, as if that cryptic answer should be enough. Pengfei puzzled over the words, motionless,

  until Chen Rulan picked up on the confusion. The elder held his book to his chest. A break from reading for a short aside.

  “The ‘Arhat Fist’ is just a small piece of their style. A piece of a piece. The physical movements by themselves will expand your striking, give you a new perspective. But there could be issues if you went any further along Shaolin’s path.”

  Pengfei wanted to pry further into the mysterious universe of martial arts but Chen Rulan had already raised his book and gone back to reading. Instead, the disciple mused over the questions as he continued his practice.

  --What is the new perspective I’m supposed to find with the ‘Arhat Fist’? I don’t even know what my old perspective is.--

  He went searching for it. He put aside the art from Shaolin momentarily and instead moved through the ‘Heaven Shaking Fist’ for a time. The choreographed movements were obviously different but that was to be expected. He looked deeper.

  --The strikes are mostly the same.-- Pengfei said to himself as he punched. The twist of the arm as he sent the hand outward, the turn of the hips. --Difference seems to be in the lower body... Kunlun is taller, the stances higher. It feels more comfortable. But maybe it’s because I’m more used to it.--

  He shuffled across the wooden floor in the more upright stance of Kunlun. Felt the way his weight shifted and moved.

  --The kicks feel a little easier like this… but the punches a little weaker. Is that the only difference? Which way is the right way?--

  He threw a straight punch and froze at full extension. He then shifted his weight subtly, sinking deeper into the position that Shaolin’s style would have dictated. A pause to adjust to the new mindset of the ‘Arhat Fist’. Then he continued in that vein.

  --Beyond the physical techniques, Buddhist martial arts versus Taoist… I know the philosophies can be worlds apart.--

  Pengfei thought over the later portions of the manual he had glimpsed. The meridians were the same, but used differently than in Kunlun. Where he had learned to project his qi outward for a strike, Shaolin would keep it contained within the body. The terminology used indicated that the Buddhist sect’s neigong could be different on an even more fundamental level.

  ‘Qi of the Nine Yangs.’

  ‘Energy of the Golden Bell and Iron Body.’

  Internal arts to complement the external, and vice versa. Neigong to waigong and back again. These were ideas that Kunlun had no equivalents for, at least none that Pengfei had seen. When he had asked, he had been waved away. Too early to worry about such things.

  --I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it.--

  He set aside the deeper mysteries and focused on his punch. It felt good. Strong. But the elder still had corrections.

  “You’re too tense. It’s slowing you down. Relax more.”

  “Won’t that make me weaker?” Pengfei asked.

  “The opposite. If you stay relaxed, you’ll move faster. The speed is more important than the muscle. Only squeeze your fist at the very end of the strike. Until then, keep it loose.”

  --Huh.--

  Pengfei threw another punch but felt his tendons squeezing before he even extended his arm. He tried again, slower, making a deliberate effort to keep every fiber of his body relaxed as he moved.

  “It’s counterintuitive.” He remarked and the elder nodded.

  “It’s one of the greatest difficulties of martial arts. Fighting your body’s natural instincts. Not tensing up in the face of danger.” Chen Rulan closed his book and set it down on his lap desk. “That’s enough for tonight. Do you have any new pages for me?”

  Pengfei wiped his hands on his robes and bent down to pick up the latest page of his transcription efforts. He walked it over to the elder and presented it with both hands. The man gave a quick glance and an accepting “Humphf”, then laid the paper down in front of himself.

  “Goodnight sir.”

  The disciple gave a martial bow, straightened his clothes, and left Elder Rulan to his own devices.

  The night was brisk and quiet. The only sounds and lights came from the dormitories that ringed the outskirts of the compound. One hundred and fifty disciples joking amongst each other in the last bit of day before curfew.

  At the nexus of several intersecting paths, two familiar faces stood motionless. Nanxi and Neng. They were chatting away casually.

  “Hey.” Pengfei called out in mild surprise. “What are you guys doing out here?”

  They paused their conversation at his approach.

  “Just finished training with my master.” Neng said.

  “Same.”

  Pengfei gave Nanxi an incredulous look. “You? Really?”

  “What? I’ve been stepping it up a bit recently.” Nanxi waved dismissively, then stuck his thumb out at Neng. “All the exercise has me restless. I was just trying to convince him to go for a walk.”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Pengfei pulled the reluctant Neng along and they fell in step with Nanxi.

  They walked through the empty buildings to the path along in the northeast, the one that led to the cliffside punishment cells. They didn’t go all the way there, just far enough that the mountain fell away into that stunning drop. Even at night, the view was spectacular.

  The boys picked their way along the rocks and boulders and finally took a perch on one of the smoother surfaces. Pengfei picked up some of the pebbles that covered the ground and threw them over the edge. They disappeared into the night without a sound.

  There was idle talk. About martial arts, the other disciples, the aging masters of the sect. And when the talk lulled, an awkward transition to a new topic.

  “So, Pengfei… how ya been?” Nanxi asked.

  “Um… fine? Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. No one has been giving you trouble recently?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Good.” Neng chimed in but fell back into silence.

  “That’s great. I know you had a rocky start, and I was partly to blame for that.” Nanxi winced and shrugged. “And… well, I just wanted to make sure the things that happened in the past didn’t ruin your opinion of Kunlun. Of your brothers here.”

  “Brothers…” Pengfei tested the word. “I guess I’m still getting used to that idea. Of being part of a sect. But I’m getting there.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Nanxi nodded.

  “You’re being weirder than usual.” Neng said dryly, and Pengfei couldn’t help but agree.

  “Yeah, is everything alright?”

  “Is this about – “ Neng looked up and down the path, then continued more quietly. “Is this about what Pengfei showed us in the canyon? The body?”

  Pengfei tensed at that, the reminder of the man he had killed. The secret he was keeping from everyone except the two on either side of him now.

  “No! What?! No! I mean, yeah, that probably warrants a check-in as well. But it’s not like I think Pengfei is some psycho killer or something. But really, I just wanted to make sure he didn’t harbor any ill will toward the people here.”

  “No…I’m fine. I mean, I’m not going to spend a lazy afternoon with Hongyu and Daoping anytime soon, but I’m not about to poison their food either.”

  “Great! See that’s great!” Nanxi said overenthusiastically. “Because like I said, we’re all brothers here. Like me for instance, I argue with people here and there. The occasional misunderstanding over a prank. But I don’t have any ill will for anyone. You’re the same, right Neng? No big issues?”

  “Of course not.”

  Suddenly, the conversation with Jin Fan came back to mind. Pengfei glanced to the side at Nanxi, who was trying too hard to look casual. Neng didn’t notice, but Pengfei could feel it.

  --Nanxi angled the conversation this way on purpose.--

  Pengfei closed his gaping mouth and looked to the ground. Neng was quiet, not one to talk much in the first place. The thread had dropped. Nanxi didn’t seem to know how to continue. So, Pengfei gave it a try.

  “So, Neng, is that how you think of everyone in Kunlun? Like brothers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Even the assholes?”

  Neng gave Pengfei a serious look and reached a hand for his friend’s shoulder. “Pengfei, I know you still have a family out there. But for the rest of us, the sect is all we have. When we go back to the Central Plains, we need to protect each other. You might not like everyone here, but I hope you can see past that when it matters.” Neng stood. “I’m heading in. You guys should too.”

  He walked back the way we had come, leaving the other two alone in the dark. When Pengfei was sure Neng was out of earshot, he turned to Nanxi.

  “Did Jin Fan talk to you?”

  “He was worried you weren’t taking him seriously.”

  “And you do? You can’t honestly think that Neng would hurt anybody. You heard the way he was talking just now. It was all love and brotherhood.”

  Nanxi threw a pebble of his own over the edge of the cliff. “Did you notice that Neng was a loner before you befriended him?”

  That gave Pengfei pause.

  --Shutian came with Xiaotong… Nanxi came with the twins… Neng was…?--

  “Alright, he’s a quiet guy but – “

  “Not just quiet. Obsessive. Uncompromising. It’s been amazing to see him open up since you got here.” Nanxi smiled grimly at Pengfei.

  Pengfei read the implication in his friend’s face. “You think he’s going back to the way he was?”

  “Not exactly. I’m not sure… but I think we should keep an eye on him. Well, I should. Maybe you sit this one out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Neng knows about… ya know?”

  “Oh, right.” A lump formed in Pengfei’s stomach. He didn’t believe for a second that Neng would tell anyone about Guoyu. The fight to the death and the body in the canyon. Not as things stood now.

  --But if we have some sort of confrontation…?--

  “Come on, let’s head back.” Nanxi said, standing and looking down over the cliffside. “You know Pengfei, if you were some sort of psychotic killer, you could –“

  “Yeah, I already thought about it.” He gave his friend a slap on the shoulder, not enough to move him but enough to give the boy a start.

  “Whoa! You bastard!” Nanxi hissed, backing away from the edge.