Chapter 9 – Die Wu (1/2)

Part 1

The eight day of the second month of the lunar calendar.

Chang’an.

Four carrier pigeons flew from Luoyang. One lost its way in the frosty darkness. One had its wings frozen by the frigid wind, and fell to its death in the lofty mountains outside Luoyang. Only two flew all the way to Chang’an, arriving before daybreak on the eighth.

**

“Cai Chong is dead,” Zhuo Donglai calmly told Sima Chaoqun. “Yang Jian died here in Chang’an. Two more of ours died in the surprise attack. Of Zhu Meng’s Four Great Warriors, not a single one remains alive.”

Sima was enjoying his roasted beef. All his energy for the day came from this meal, and so this was the time when his spirits were the highest, and his mind the clearest.

“When did Cai Chong die?” he asked.

“Yesterday morning,” answered Zhuo Donglai. “I just received news of his death a few hours ago.”

One of his subordinates was an expert in training carrier pigeons. When he dispatched people to Luoyang to gather information, they would usually take one or two carrier pigeons with them. At the time, there was no faster method to deliver information.

“From what I heard,” said Sima Chaoqun dryly, “Cai Chong had already taken complete control of the Lion Clan. How could he suddenly be dead? Someone like him shouldn’t die so easily.”

“Anyone who gets stabbed through the heart with a sword will die easily.”

“But it shouldn’t be an easy thing to stab him through the heart with a sword. Whose sword was it?”

“Little Gao’s. Gao Jianfei.”

“Him again!” Sima Chaoqun sliced off a big chunk of meat with his curved knife. “He’s already in Luoyang?”

“It seems he arrived two days ago.”

Sima Chaoqun chewed slowly, until all the flavor of the meat was gone. “Cai Chong is obviously no match for Gao Jianfei’s sword skill, but he already took control of the Lion Clan. Shouldn’t he have been surrounded by experts protecting him?”

“It’s said the whole street was filled. Not only were there Lion Clan disciples, but at least 10 hired killers, outsiders. Any enemy of his who entered that street would have been in as much danger as a lamb in the midst of a wolf pack.”

“But Little Gao went anyway.”

“Correct. Little Gao went, alone. One person, one sword. He walked down the street like an old woman carrying a basket of vegetables to sell.”

“And then what?”

“Then he stabbed Cai Chong through the heart with his sword. In through his chest and out through his back.”

“Why would Cai Chong let him get so close? Why wouldn’t he kill him first?”

“I have no idea. I imagine Cai Chong wanted to use Little Gao to lure out Zhu Meng and kill him. And he probably didn’t take Little Gao seriously. He never imagined he would have the guts to kill him under those circumstances.”

“Then his death was not undeserved,” Sima said coldly. “Anyone who underestimates their enemy deserves to die.”

Cai Chong not only underestimated Little Gao’s speed and martial arts, he also underestimated his character and bravery.

Sima suddenly sighed. “But Little Gao must have died as well. When he went to that street, he had already prepared himself to die. Zhu Meng is really lucky to have made a friend like that.”

“There really aren’t many people like him in the world. For one to die is really a loss. But as of now, the world hasn’t experienced that loss.”

“Little Gao isn’t dead?”

“He isn’t.”

“Right now he might even be living a happier life than most people.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t make a mistake when he picked his friend,” said Zhu Donglai. “Zhu Meng didn’t let him risk his life alone.”

“Don’t tell me Zhu Meng was there too?” Sima looked even more shocked than before. “He watched helplessly while Cai Chong took everything away from him, and then ran away and hid like a stray dog. At a time like that, how could he have the guts to show up?”

“I thought he was finished. As finished as a walnut cracked open by a hammer, the insides so soft that even a toothless child could chew it up.”

“But now it looks like he grew another shell.”

“Yes.”

“How did he make his appearance?”

A thoughtful expression appeared in Zhuo Donglai’s eyes. He was quiet for a long time before slowly saying, “Some trees seem completely dead during winter, but as soon as spring comes and they feel the spring wind and rain, receive the warmth of the sun, they fill with life again, extruding buds and growing new leaves.” His voice seemed very distant. “Some friends can have this kind of effect. Just like the spring wind and rain, and the warmth of the sun. As far as Zhu Meng is concerned, Gao Jianfei is this kind of friend.”

Sima Chaoqun sighed softly. “He is. As far as anyone is concerned, he is.”

Zhuo Donglai became thoughtful again, his gray, wolfish eyes shining with an expression no one could understand or describe, their sharpness seeming to gradually soften.

Sima Chaoqun didn’t notice. He continued, “Most of the people Cai Chong placed on the street in ambush were Zhu Meng’s old subordinates. When they suddenly saw him return, as awe-inspiring as ever, they must have been frightened. Even more so after seeing Cai Chong die under Little Gao’s sword.” He reached his conclusion: “All Zhu Meng had to do was appear, and have some spirit, and most of those people wouldn’t dare to make a move.”

Zhuo Donglai maintained his silence.

Sima kept talking. “The people Cai Chong paid such a high price for would be even less willing to make a move.”

“Why?”

“Because they have a price. If Cai Chong could buy them, Zhu Meng could buy them too.” His voice was filled with disdain. “People who come for a price aren’t worth it, not worth even one coin.”

Zhuo Donglai said nothing.

“And so because Cai Chong forgot these two points,” said Sima, “Zhu Meng and Little Gao are still alive.” He let out a short breath, seeming to be very satisfied with his assessment of things.

When Zhuo Donglai had absolutely no reaction at all, Sima couldn’t hold back from asking, “Don’t tell me you have a different opinion?”

Zhuo Donglai shook his head.

Sima Chaoqun frowned. “After Zhu Meng arrived, what happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Sima Chaoqun was almost shouting. “How could you not know?”

After a long moment’s thought, Zhuo Donglai responded coolly, “Because that information didn’t reach me. The information is carried by pigeons. Pigeons don’t talk, they only carry things. And they aren’t eagles. The road from Luoyang to Chang’an is not short; the messages they carry can only be so long.” Zhuo Donglai’s voice carried no emotion whatsoever. “This matter could only be explained fully by a very long message, and so they split the message into four parts, and put each part onto a different pigeon.”

“And how many pigeons did you receive?”

“Two. Two pigeons, two messages.”

“Which two parts?”

“The first part, and the last part.”

“What you just told me was obviously the first part,” said Sima Chaoqun. “What about the last part?”

“The last part is the conclusion, and there are only a few lines. I can read it for you.”

He read the message: “Twenty-three people died in the battle, nineteen were critically injured, eleven received minor injuries. The casualties were brutal, the stench of blood from the battle lingered for a very long time. It was a massacre, with only Zhu Meng and Gao Jianfei getting away unharmed.” (1)

**

Zhuo Donglai finished reading. Time passed, and finally Sima let out a long sigh. “More people died than were critically injured, and more people were critically injured that received minor injuries. One can only imagine how tragic it was.”

“Yes,” said Zhuo Donglai coolly. “And it’s clear that no one was unwilling to make a move.”

“The street was like a bag full of gunpowder. All it would take would be for one person to dare to make a move. That person would be the struck match. Once that person made a move, the whole bag of gunpowder would ignite, and they would all try to tear Zhu Meng and Gao Jianfei to pieces.”

“Yes. It seems that’s exactly what happened.”

“But Zhu Meng and Gao Jianfei still live.”

“Yes. They are very much alive.”

“How could only the two of them stand up to so many?”

“It wasn’t just the two of them. There were three people.”

“Who was the other person?”

“Cleats.”

“Cleats?”

“Not a pair of shoes,” said Zhuo Donglai, “a person.”

“How is his martial arts?”

“Nothing special.”

“But it seems you respect him.”

“Yes,” admitted Zhuo Donglai. “I always have respect for useful people.”

“He’s useful?”

“Very useful. Perhaps more useful than any of Zhu Meng’s other subordinates.”

“Because he was willing to die at any time for Zhu Meng?”

“Dying isn’t horrible, and he wouldn’t die at any time. As long as Zhu Meng lives, he would definitely think of a way to continue living, so that he can take care of him. He views Zhu Meng the way that a faithful dog views its master.” Zhuo Donglai continued coldly: “If he was willing to throw his life away at any time, he wouldn’t be worth paying attention to.”

Sima Chaoqun suddenly laughed. A hearty laugh. “I know what you mean,” he said. “I really do.”

Zhuo Donglai looked at him coldly, his cold eyes shining forth with a look more fearsome and furious than a blade. He suddenly spun around and strode away.

Part 2

Beneath the gloomy sky, the sound of the snowflakes slowly falling drifted in through the window. This sound can only be heard at times when people are extremely lonely.

Sima’s laughter had long since ceased, and no sign of joy could be seen in his eyes. Instead, they shone with unspeakable sadness.

He heard the sound of the falling snowflakes, but he didn’t hear the sound of his wife’s footsteps.

By the time Wu Wan entered, he had already begun drinking.

She walked in very quietly, and sat down by his side.

She never tried to prevent him from drinking, because as an intelligent woman, a kind-hearted and understanding wife, she knew that some things could not be prevented.

But today was different than usual. Today, she too began drinking, and drinking very quickly at that.

It wasn’t until she was preparing to drink her third bowl that Sima turned and looked at her.

“It’s still morning, isn’t it?”

“It seems so.”

“And you’re already drinking.”

“It seems so,” Wu Wan replied lightly.

A gentle wife, extremely gentle, she always did everything for her husband and listened to him in every matter, always speaking softly and gently even when she was upset or angry. She never lost her temper.

But what Sima Chaoqun said was: “You only start drinking this early when you’re upset. Why are you upset today?”

She didn’t respond, didn’t even open her mouth.

She poured more wine, a blank expression on her face, filling both her own bowl and her husband’s.

“I know why you’re upset,” said Sima. “It’s because of Zhuo Donglai. You don’t approve of the way he spoke to me?”

Wu Wan didn’t deny his statement, thus confirming it.

“But you should understand that he normally isn’t like this,” said Sima. “He was angry today, because I kept praising Little Gao.” His eyes shone with a derisive smile. “He never likes it when I praise others for being good friends.”

Wu Wan suddenly spoke: “Don’t tell me he’s jealous?” Her voice was somewhat raised, and filled with a sneer. “I’m not jealous, what right does he have to be jealous?”

Wu Wan was always gentle, very gentle. But as of now she had already drunk five cups of wine.

She drank Sima’s preferred alcohol, which was strong liquor. The strongest of liquors.

When a woman who doesn’t normally drink suddenly downs five cups of strong liquor, anything she says should be forgivable.

In fact, even when a man who doesn’t normally drink suddenly downs five cups of strong liquor, anything he says should also be forgivable.

So Sima laughed.

“You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of Zhuo Donglai, as if I would develop romantic feelings toward him.”

“I know you won’t develop romantic feelings toward him, and he hasn’t done so toward you.” She downed another drink. “You view him as a son. Without him, you wouldn’t be where you are today.”

Her voice hoarse, she whispered, “Why can’t you do something for yourself, let him know that you can survive without him? Why can’t you give him some proof?”

Sima didn’t respond, didn’t even open his mouth.

As his wife just had, he quietly poured more alcohol, filling his bowl and hers.

But Wu Wan didn’t drink any more. She fell into his arms weeping, unable to speak.

Sima shed no tears. In fact, his eyes did not contain even a single teardrop.

It seemed as if he had no tears left in him at all.

Part 3

Behind the grand and magnificent house, in a wide and beautiful garden, was a secluded corner. In that corner was a very narrow door, from behind which could occasionally be heard the faint melody of a stringed instrument. No one knew what lay beyond the door, or who played the instrument.

That was because the area beyond the door was a restricted area designed by Zhuo Donglai. If anyone dared set foot inside with their right foot, then their right foot would be cut off. If they stepped in with their left foot, their left foot would be cut off.

It was a very simple rule. Simple and effective.

**

Whether leaving from Sima’s residence or Zhuo Donglai’s, it took a long time to reach this place.

Zhuo Donglai carried an oilskin umbrella, treading carefully across the snow-filled garden. Snow covered the narrow path upon which he walked, and even though he did not use lightness kung fu, he left behind only very faint footprints.

The narrow door in the corner was closed year-round.

Zhuo Donglai knocked softly. First three times, then one time. Then he waited for a long time before the door finally opened a crack.

A beautiful woman opened it. She wore a snow-white, fox-fur cloak, and her face was as white as the cloak.

In a very low, very reverent voice, Zhuo Donglai asked, “Is the old master up?” (2)

“He’s been up for some time,” said the woman, her voice faint. “The old master always gets up early. Perhaps he knows that the days to come are few, so he wishes to treasure each and every day.”

Behind the door was a quiet and secluded little courtyard. The refreshing fragrance of plums filled the cold wind. Underneath an ancient, crooked pine tree was a small six-sided pavilion. An old man sat in the pavilion, watching the snowflakes drift down, seemingly spellbound.

No one knew his age or his name, even he himself had forgotten.

Short and emaciated, from a distance, he appeared to be a child of eight or nine years old. His head looked like a soft nut, dried out by the wind, and the wrinkles on his face seemed to have been carved out by snow and rain, and gave evidence of countless experiences and sufferings.

Even though merciless time had left his body withered and shrunken, his eyes were filled not only with the flickering wisdom of age, but also the mischievousness of a child.

Right now, his eyes looked like the sparkling sea at noon.

Zhuo Donglai stood in the small courtyard reverently, and gave a respectful salute. “The old master’s complexion looks much better than before. He looks at least twenty years younger.”

At first it seemed as if the old man had no intention of looking at him, and would just ignore him. But he suddenly turned his head and winked.

“You really think I look twenty years younger?”