Chapter 3 – Flowered Flags (2/2)
“Are you sure?”
“Completely,” said Lian Gen sternly. “Even if your Beggar Sect leader Lord Xiao were here, I would still be forced to take a look.”
Pockmarks sighed. “Then you might as well ask these men to die for you right now!”
Lian Gen’s face twisted and he slowly lifted up his hand. Then his hand shot backwards, snatching the steel sword out of the hand of one of his men. He twisted the sword in his hands and it snapped in two.
Finally, the man in the wheelchair spoke up. “Very good kung fu. Very good.” He smiled. “Even Huainan’s Eagle King Clan doesn’t have anyone who can compare to you.” [4]
“Of course no one can compare to me.”
Gripping the broken end of the sword between two fingers, he waved his hand. Light flashed, and a thud sounded out as the sword fragment pierced into one of the coffins.
Pockmark’s facial expression changed. “Thankfully,” he said coolly, “the person in that coffin is already dead. Stabbing him a few more times won’t hurt.”
“He’s dead, but you’re not.”
Lian Gen still had half a sword in his hand. “This, I’m saving for you.”
As soon as he finished speaking, another person suddenly appeared between the two of them.
A man in bluish-green clothing, his face pale. It was as if he had just blown in on the wind.
Lian Gen took a step backwards. “Who are you?” he asked angrily.
It seemed as if the man in bluish-green didn’t hear him, or even see him. From within his garment, he pulled out a handful of flags, very small flags, attached to a black iron flagpoles about six or seven inches long each.
—Were these little flags some kind of deadly weapon?
Even as he gripped the sword, Lian Gen’s hand began to sweat. Everyone’s hands began to sweat.
They all could see that the man in bluish-green could kill people with anything, even a twig.
But he didn’t kill anyone.
He just stuck the flags onto the coffins.
Five coffins. Five flags.
After sticking the flags into the coffins, he began to walk off. Pockmarks and Cripple followed him, leaving behind the coffins that they moments ago had been willing to die to defend.
The sword-wielding men immediately stepped aside to let them leave.
They’d come only for the coffins. As long as the coffins stayed, they wouldn’t look to cause any trouble. The sooner they could accomplish their task, the sooner they could return, have a drink, take a shower and sleep. At the last, that was better than risking their lives on a dark, remote road.
Who could have predicted that the beggars would leave? But they did, and left behind were five flags, stuck into five coffins.
Why would they do this?
No one could figure it out, nor did they think about it closely.
On the long, dark path, underneath the pale moonlight, amidst the cold wind, Lian Gen suddenly waved his hand.
“Let’s go!” he said. “Take the coffins and go.”
Four of the big men sheathed their swords and rushed forward to push the carts. However, after taking only two steps, they suddenly stopped. It was as if some unspeakable magic had stopped them, as if some invisible magical force had used eight invisible nails to affix them to the ground. They didn’t move in the slightest.
They eyes of all four of the men stared at exactly the same thing.
At the flags.
Just now, a gust of wind had blown down the path and unfurled the flags from their small flagpoles. The flags fluttered in the wind; embroidered upon them were countless colorful flowers that appeared even more vibrant in the white moonlight.
After a long moment, the four men could finally move again; but they did not move forward, they moved backward.
Furious, Lian Gen blurred into motion.
He had always managed his subordinates with military discipline; never before had they defied his orders.
Several claps rang out in succession, and the faces of the four men began to swell and grow red.
They dared not resist, nor evade. They had utmost fear and respect for Lian Gen.
And yet they could not make themselves even touch the coffins.
Lian Gen’s iron palm once again stretched out, grabbing hold of the arm of one of the men; no matter how thick and strong the arm, it would be as brittle as charcoal in his hand.
He never issued an order a second time, and he had determined to prove so through his actions.
The sound of bone snapping in the cold wind was nothing but blood-chilling. The man whose arm had been broken screamed shrilly like a wolf.
Lian Gen glared sharply at the other men. One word at a time, he said, “Is anyone going to move these coffins?
***
No one stepped forth.
Not even one.
The man in the wheelchair finally put down his cup and let out a very long sigh. “It’s useless,” he said. “Even killing them would do nothing. None of them will dare to move the coffins.”
Lian Gen turned his head, his eyes furious. “Why?”
“Because of the flags. For thirty years, no one within four hundred kilometers of Jinan Prefecture has dared to move the flags of Old Master Tian.”
Lian Gen laughed.
“What happens if you move them?”
“I don’t know,” said the man in the wheelchair. “Why don’t you try and see?”
The veins on his forehead bulging, Lian Gen said, “That’s what I’m doing right now.”
***
The carts still lay on the road; the coffins still lay on the carts.
Lian Gen walked forward slowly, the veins on the backs of his hands bulging out like vipers.
And then he actually stretched out his hand to grab one of the flags.
With his kung fu, and the superhuman power of his iron palms, even were they large trees, he should still be able to pull them out.
And yet, he couldn’t lift out these little flags.
Even as his had began to stretch out, an emaciated old man appeared in front of him. He wore black clothing, and had a head as bald as a condor. His hand, as skinny as a chicken’s foot, shot out like lightning and gripped Lian Gen’s hand.
Lian Gen’s face twisted, and though he still stood there javelin straight, beads of sweat flowed down his face like yellow soybeans.
The bald-headed man looked at him indifferently, then asked, “Are you Sun Jicheng’s chief steward, the man called “Superhuman Eagle King?”
“Yes, I am,” said Lian Gen, his voice hoarse and filled with pain. “I am Lian Gen.”
“Then you’re mistaken,” said the old man. “There are two areas in which you are mistaken.”
“Oh?”
“First, you should not have tried to move the flags.”
“And second?”
“Second, you think too much of your kung fu. It is a far cry from that of the Huainan Eagle King Clan’s.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of shattering bones could be heard in the cold wind.
Lian Gen let out a wretched cry, and then shot away like a javelin into the night.
His men followed as fast as possible, leaving behind the man in the wheelchair. He smiled and clapped his hands. “Of the Three Kings of Huainan, Old Wang is the most powerful.” True admiration filled his voice. “Old Mr. Wang’s Divine Eagle Claw truly is extraordinary.”
“Extraordinary, extraordinary.” The voice of another person rang out on the dark path. He too applauded. “I never thought that ‘Great Three Yuan’ restaurant’s general manager Mr. Zheng would have such keen eyesight. With one glance he identified old uncle Wang’s kung fu. That is truly extraordinary.”
***
This man was not old. Big and tall, he was also not young, but when he smiled he looked like a child.
He couldn’t count as good-looking. He had small eyes, a big mouth, a flat nose and a round face; when he smiled, his eyes disappeared. And yet, he couldn’t count as ugly either.
He too sat in a well-decorated wheelchair like Zheng Nanyuan’s [5]. He turned the wheels himself to push the chair forward.
General manager Zheng Nanyuan laughed. “So it’s Young Master Tian.” He clasped his hands in front of himself and gave a bow. “Greetings, Young Master.”
“General Manager Zheng, greetings.”
“Why is Young Master also using a wheelchair?”
“I’m imitating you,” he said, coming to rest next to the flags. “I’ve always wanted to have a wheelchair like this.”
“But, just two days ago you were as vigorous as a tiger or dragon. You could leap up the twenty or so stairs of the restaurant in just three steps.”
“My legs are as good as ever. Otherwise, how could the Old Master continue to call me Frogboy.” [6]
“Then why are you using a wheelchair?” Zheng Nanyuan asked again.
“Because I’m lazy,” replied Frogboy. “I think using energy to walk is really a horrible waste.”
Zheng Nanyuan laughed heartily. Both of them laughed.
“General Manager Zheng, don’t tell me you are also here for our five guests.”
“Guests? Which five guests?”
“Whoever the Old Master gives his flags to are our guests, regardless of whether they are dead or alive.” With a smile, Frogboy asked: “Would you mind allowing us to take them away?”
“Please do.”
Zheng Nanyuan immediately turned his wheelchair around to leave.
He was a sensible person, so he decided to leave immediately so as not to block the way of Young Master Tian.
He never imagined that Old Mr. Wang would call out, “Wait a moment!”
Zheng Nanyuan turned around and found Mr. Wang’s renowned Eagle Claws at his throat.
His two hands had just shattered Lian Gen’s iron palms with minimal effort; they could obviously pierce anyone’s throat.
Zheng Nanyuan didn’t even blink. “What is it,” he said calmly.
“Do you know who the people are in the coffin?”
“No.”
“Then why do you want them?”
“Because something happened last night at the residence of our Big Boss. Therefore, anyone who enters Jinan Prefecture today must be checked out, regardless of whether they are alive or dead.”
Part 6
By this time, Wu Tao was already drunk, really drunk, passed out like a grub on the table of the small eatery.
The young beggar called “Ingot” sat across from him staring at him, not sure whether he himself was drunk or not.
—In situations like this, for people who were in Jinan for the first time that night, perhaps being drunk was for the best.
Part 7
Everywhere could be seen huge stacks of lumber, shipped in from a multitude of locations. The fragrance of sawdust filled the air.
Everyone within 400 kilometers knew that no bigger lumber yard existed than “Forest Memory.” But few people knew it also acted as a subsidiary outpost for disciples of the Flowered Flag.
Behind the main square, which was piled full of lumber, could be found a large, spacious woodshed. The rickety carts hard already been disposed of, and now the five coffins lay inside the woodshed.
On a long table nailed together from wood planks, a lamp flickered over a tray of meat, a jug of alcohol, and three sets of cups and chopsticks. But only two people sat there.
Condor Wang stared with eagle-like sharpness at Frogboy, who sat across from him.
“Do you really believe that that guy surnamed Zheng is just the general manager of a restaurant?”
“Nope.”
“Then you shouldn’t have let him leave.”
“What would you do if he stayed?” said Frogboy with a smile. “Invite him here to drink?”
“At the least, I could test out my kung fu.”
“There’s no need to try,” he replied resolutely. “His kung fu is definitely no worse than ours.”
The Condor said nothing more. Suddenly his pupils dilated, and then he flipped into the air like a bird. One hand protecting his chest, he shot out the window.
There was no one outside the window.
The person who had been outside had already floated in. A face as a pale as a corpse’s, seemingly forever staring at a distant pair of eyes, a set of bluish-green clothing washed so thoroughly it had begun to fade. And a sleeve tucked into his waist.
Frogboy looked at him, and then looked at the coffins. With a shake of his head and a bitter laugh, he said, “Why do you always make deliveries like this to us?”
“Why don’t you ever ask someone else to?” retorted the man in bluish-green. “And why didn’t you ask those people why they were interested in the five coffins?”
“I did ask. He just said that something strange occurred last night in their Big Boss’s home.”
“Why didn’t you ask about the details of this strange occurrence?”
“I don’t need to ask, because I already know. Three people died there last night.”
“Which three people?”
“One was their chief guard Que Budao. Another was the middle-aged former imperial maid with incredible tailoring skills, Liu Jin’niang. And the other was none other than their Big Boss, Sun Jicheng.”
“Sun Jicheng is dead?” said the man in bluish-green, sounding surprised. “How could he be dead?”
“They say that he fell under Qiu Budao’s Divine Shaolin Palm. One fatal strike.”
“And Qiu Budao?”
“He died after drinking a cup of poisoned alochol,” said Frogboy. “Apparently it contained so much poison it could kill an entire barracks worth of troops.”
“And who poisoned the wine?”
“Perhaps Sun Jicheng. Perhaps Liu Jin’niang. Perhaps Qiu Budao himself. They all had reason to poison the wine. As for what really happened, I’m afraid only heaven knows.”
The man in the bluish-green garment sat silently in thought.
The Condor had returned to stand next to him, staring with his sharp, eagle eyes at the vital point on the back of the man’s head, his hands pulsing with Qi.
It seemed as if the man in bluish-green hadn’t noticed. After a long time, he asked, “Where did they die?”
“They died in Sun Jicheng’s secret cellar.”
“Did anyone else know about the cellar?”
“Nope.”
“So, therefore, no one else could have poisoned the alcohol?”
“Correct.”
Frogboy added some more information: “The secret cellar is attached to his room. Last night, some of the guards on watch saw Sun Jicheng and Qiu Budao enter together. Afterwards, no one came out.”
A sharp light suddenly shone in the eyes of the man in bluish-green.
“In these circumstances, there is only one explanation for their deaths. A crime of passion, in which everyone perished.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” said Frogboy. “That’s what everyone is thinking.”
“Given that they killed themselves, and there seems to be no other assailant, why are Sun Jicheng’s subordinates investigating strangers who are in Jinan for the first time? Even corpses? Could it be that there is some other secret to be uncovered?”
***
That question pierced to the very heart of the matter, hitting the sweet spot. [7]
**
[1] The characters that make up his name Changsheng literally mean “long life” or “longevity.” For a coffin-maker to have this name seems a bit ironic, doesn’t it? Haha.
[2] Literally it says the platter of “pig ears and pig hearts and pig intestines and pig stomach and pig liver.
[3] I debated a lot about how to translate this. This is not his real name, it’s just an alias/nickname, so I opted not to transliterate it as Yuan Bao. This is not a situation like in Milford’s Deer and the Cauldron translation where I am taking a person’s name and giving it a meaning. In this case, based on the way it is used and how he came up with the name, using “Ingot” is the best choice.
[4] Huainan is basically modern-day central Anhui province.
[5] Zheng Nanyuan’s name in Chinese is 郑南园 zhèng nán yuán
[6] His nickname is very clever. His family name is 田, which literally also means field. When you add the character 鸡 or chicken, after that, it means frog. Another character 仔, is often translated into English as boy. I’ll always remember the apocryphal story of a Korean who moved to China, and kept eating “田鸡,” thinking that it was organic chicken, only to find out later (in horror) that it was actually frog. In any case, I know the name sounds kind of silly in English, but I think this is the best way to translate it in English. It sounds kind of silly in Chinese too. Also, Old Master Tian is clearly his father.
[7] In this sentence he makes a play on words that I don’t think can be translated into English. The original saying is “to hit a snake seven inches deep,” which means to hit a tender or important spot. Gu Long’s sentence was, “That question pierced to the very heart of the mater, just like a sharp knife piercing seven inches into the snake.” I decided to substitute for a relatively common English expression with similar meaning, considering the original has no meaning to native English speakers.