Chapter 9 – Die Wu (2/2)
“Of course you do.”
“Then you must be blind. A stupid, foolish blind person.” Even though the old man was cursing him, his tone of voice was cheerful. “Can’t you tell that I actually look forty years younger?”
Zhuo Donglai smiled.
A white-clothed woman stood by his side. The old man grasped her two hands in his.
“It’s all thanks to her service.” The old man’s eyes narrowed as he laughed. “Only a young pretty girl like this can make an old man become young again.”
“It’s also thanks to me,” said Zhuo Donglai. “It’s me that brought her here to you.”
“But I’m not grateful at all to you.” The old man winked again, his eyes flickering with a crafty naughtiness. “I know you’re sucking up to me, that you want to pick more information out of my brain.” When Zhuo Donglai didn’t deny this, the old man said, “What do you want to pick out this time?”
“A person.”
“Who?”
“Xiao Leixue.”
**
The old man’s smile disappeared, and his bright eyes suddenly looked as dead as ash.
“Xiao Leixue, Xiao Leixue.” He repeated the name over and over. “He’s still alive? He’s not dead yet?”
“Not yet.”
The old man sighed. “Now I know what kind of person you are.” He stretched out a withered finger and pointed at Zhuo Donglai. “You’re an incredible bastard. Reckless, foolish and stupid, and so you want to provoke him.”
Zhuo Donglai wasn’t upset.
It seemed that no matter how the old man treated him, he wouldn’t get upset. That was because only this old man could tell him the things he wanted to know, but couldn’t figure out.
“I don’t want to provoke him,” said Zhuo Donglai. “I just want to know two things about him.”
“What two things?”
“His martial arts, and his weapon.”
The old man suddenly seemed to grow very nervous. A man of this age shouldn’t be nervous like this.
“Have you seen his weapon?” he asked.
“I haven’t.”
“Of course you haven’t,” said the old man, seeming to relax. “Only the spirits of the dead in hell have seen it.”
“No one has seen his weapon?”
“Absolutely no one,” said the old man. “Just like no one can ever see Tearstains.”
“Tearstains?” asked Zhuo Donglai. “Whose tearstains?”
“Grandmaster Xiao’s Tearstains.”
“Who is Grandmaster Xiao?”
“Grandmaster Xiao is Xiao Leixue’s father.”
**
Zhuo Donglai always thought of himself as a very intelligent person, but now he was very confused.
He didn’t understand anything the old man was saying. “Why can’t anyone see the tearstains of his father?”
“Because when you see the tearstains, you will die under them.”
Zhuo Donglai was even more confused. “Tearstains can kill people?”
The old man stared off into the distance, his eyes filled with sorrow and fear, as if he had suddenly seen something impossible to understand and impossible to control.
After a long time, he slowly stretched out his gaunt hands and gently picked up a zither which lay next to him.
The strings of the zither made a “zeng” sound.
The old man suddenly said, “Die Wu, please dance for me.”
**
The fox-fur cloak slipped from her shoulders. The white-clothed woman’s skin was just as white as her garments.
A silvery-white top garment, and a long silvery-white skirt. (3)
The long skirt floated like flowing water as she danced. It twisted like flurries of snow, revealing a pair of long, beautiful, flexible legs.
It was impossible to describe her dance, and impossible to describe her legs.
Even the man who comprehended the beauty of women more than anyone in the world, the Marquis Di Qinglin could only say, “I simply can’t believe that anyone could have legs like this.”
**
The rising and falling music of the zither suddenly became both luxuriant and depressing, and the dance of the dancer changed as well. Now it looked like the last leaf of autumn fluttering alone in the autumn wind, beautiful, desolate and heartbreaking.
The old man’s eyes glistened with tears.
There was a “zheng” sound as one of the strings broke, and the zither music stopped. The dancer’s skirt drifted about like clouds.
She curled up on the ground, looking like a dying swan slowly drifting down from the blue sky toward the emerald green sea.
And finally there was serene and harmonious silence. Silent and beautiful.
A teardrop rolled down the old man’s old, withered face, leaving behind a tearstain.
One drop, two drops…
“Tearstains look like this,” said the old man quietly. “Tearstains look like this!”
“Like what?”
“Unparallelled, flawless. There is no more powerful sword in the world of mortals!”
“Sword? Tearstains is a sword?”
“A sword,” said the old man. “A perfect sword, as perfect as Die Wu’s dance.”
“Why is the sword called Tearstains?”
“Because you can see tearstains on it. When it came out of the forge, tears fell onto the blade, leaving behind indelible tearstains.”
“Whose tearstains?”
“Grandmaster Xiao’s. The unparalleled Grandmaster Xiao.”
“When a treasured sword appears, both gods and ghosts will tremble in fear. This I understand,” said Zhuo Donglai. “What I don’t understand is why Grandmaster Xiao would shed tears for it.”
“Because in addition to being a master sword forger, he was also an unequalled sword diviner.” Sorrow filled the old man’s voice. “When the sword came out of the forge, he could see that an indispellable evil had touched it.”
“What evil?”
“The old man sighed. “As you just said, when a treasured sword appears, both gods and ghosts tremble in fear. When this sword came out of the forge, it carried with it the curses of gods and ghosts, all the viciousness in the world. When the sword is unsheathed, it must taste blood. Not only this, it required Grandmaster Xiao to make a sacrifice of his closest relative.”
“And Grandmaster Xiao’s closest relative is Xiao Leixue?”
“Correct,” said the old man sadly. “When the sword came out of the forge, Grandmaster Xiao could see that his only son would die beneath it.”
“Why didn’t he destroy the sword?”
“He couldn’t bear to, and didn’t dare to.”
“The sword was the product of his own painstaking effort, of course he couldn’t bear to destroy it.” This point, Zhuo Donglai could understand. “But I still don’t get why he wouldn’t dare to destroy it.”
“The will of heaven is fickle, the power of heaven hard to imagine. The underworld has many arrangements that people are powerless to resist.” The old man’s eyes filled with indescribable dread. “If Grandmaster Xiao destroyed it, it’s possible an even greater calamity would befall his only son.”
Zhuo Donglai’s eyes flickered. “So how did Grandmaster Xiao end up disposing of the sword?”
“Grandmaster Xiao had three disciples. His greatest disciple inherited his sword divining skills. He traveled to the remotest corners of the earth, practicing his art on the most powerful weapons.”
“I’ve heard of this person. In Jianghu, there is an old man, a blade-sharpener, who can determine whether a weapon is auspicious or inauspicious. His ability is god-like. He must be Grandmaster Xiao’s greatest disciple.”
The old man nodded. “Grandmaster Xiao’s second disciple Shao Kongzi inherited his sword making skill, and became a great swordsmith.”
“Shao Kongzi?” Zhuo Donglai was visibly moved. “He’s the Master Shao who forged the ‘Farewell Hook?’”
“Yes, that’s him,” said the old man. “These two were otherworldly geniuses. And yet Grandmaster Xiao passed down his greatest skill to his third disciple. He also gave him Tearstains.”
“Why did he give it to him?”
“Because he was not only benevolent and merciful of heart, he also innately lacked the desire for wealth and fame. He had no such ambitions, and would not take the lives of others.”
“He inherited Grandmaster Xiao’s sword skill, of course no one would be able to take Tearstains away from him,” said Zhuo Donglai. “And a benevolent elder such as him would surely not hurt his master’s only son.”
“Furthermore, at the age of thirty, he went into seclusion in the remote mountains. He swore an oath to never again step foot in the world of mortals, and to bury Tearstains with him when he died.”
“Which mountain was it?”
“I don’t know,” said the old man. “No one knows.”
Zhuo Donglai sighed. “And so because of this, Jianghu has one less great swordsman, one less weapon master. Is this Jianghu’s good fortune, or it’s misfortune?”
“Xiao Leixue is still alive.”
“Yes,” said Zhuo Donglai slowly. “In any case, he hasn’t died under Tearstains. At the least, he’s still alive.”
Though his voice seemed filled with sadness, his eyes shone with excitement, like a lecher who catches sight of a naked woman standing at the foot of his bed.
When he raised his head and looked at the old man sitting in the pavilion, it looked as if he had already fallen asleep.
**
The snow fell, thin but heavy. The little door was half opened. Zhuo Donglai had already stepped out, and Die Wu was preparing to shut the door.
One its shut, it was as if this place was completely cut off from the outside world.
She only wished that no one would ever come knock on the door ever again, that she and the old man could live out their life here. The outside world contained no hope for her, nothing to recall fondly.
Her heart was already dead; the only things that remained behind were a numb body and a pair of legs.
Her legs were like the tusks of an elephant, the fragrance of a musk deer, the horns of an antelope; they were the most precious part of her, and also the source of all her misfortune.
—If she didn’t have these legs, what kind of person would she be? Would her life be just a little more happy?
**
Die Wu lowered her head and stood by the door, wishing Zhuo Donglai would leave.
Zhuo Donglai turned and looked at her with a very strange expression in his eyes. He stared at her for a long time.
“Has your life been well these days?”
“Very well.”
Her voice was devoid of emotion, perhaps even more desolate than Zhuo Donglai’s.
“You can stay here for as long as you wish. I can guarantee that no one will disturb you.”
“Thank you.”
“But, I can also have you sent somewhere else, too,” he said coldly. “As long as I’m willing, I can send you anywhere. I know some people who wish very much for me to do that.”
Die Wu suddenly took a step back, looking like a frightened antelope. She cowered in the corner behind the door.
Zhuo Donglai laughed.
“Of course I wouldn’t do that.” Ruthlessness filled his laughter. “I just want you to realize that you should treat me a little bit better, because of what you owe me.”
Die Wu looked up and stared at him.
“How do you want me to treat you?” she asked. “You want me to sleep with you?” Her bearing suddenly became as elegant as a noble lady, although her words were those of a prostitute. “You must have heard that my skill is unmatched. If a man sleeps with me even one time, he’ll never be able to forget me for the rest of his life. You can’t imagine what it’s like once my legs are in motion. I’m afraid even in your dreams you couldn’t imagine it.” She was beginning to laugh crazily. “But I know you won’t take me, because the person you love isn’t me. You only love one person, and you live your entire life for him…”
She didn’t finish her sentence.
Zhuo Donglai suddenly grasped her wrist and struck her face with the back of his hand.
Five blood-red finger-marks appeared on her pale, beautiful face. But the fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by scorn and derision.
Zhuo Donglai twisted her wrist, twisted it until it was behind her back, until tears of pain seeped from her eyes. Then he slowly said, “You’re mistaken.” His eyes seemed to be filled with excitement at the sight of her pain. “I want you to understand that you are horribly mistaken.”
**
Deep night.
There was no lamp in the room, only the flickering fire in the oven. Die Wu lay twisted on the sable-fur-covered couch, completely naked. In the dancing firelight, her legs were beautiful, so beautiful that they would make people willing to travel to hell for her. Her tears had already stopped flowing.
Compared to the humiliation and pain she had just endured, the suffering she had experienced in her past was like a child’s game.
She simply could never have imagined that humanity contained this kind of perverted wild beast.
The door to the outer chamber was unlocked, and Zhuo Donglai had walked out. Die Wu could hear the voice of a young man from outside.
His voice was low, but Die Wu heard him tell Zhuo Donglai that Sima Chaoqun had suddenly taken ill. The illness was serious, and already several doctors had been called in to check on him. They said he was overworked, and must rest for a period of time to recover. Therefore he was not accepting visitors.
Zhuo Donglai was thought quietly for a long time before asking the young man, “He won’t see visitors? Or he won’t see anyone?”
“It seems he won’t see anyone.”
“Not even me?”
“It seems that way.”
“So his wife specifically asked you to come tell me not to disturb him?”
“She only said, tell Mr. Zhuo to put everything on hold for a while and wait for the chief to recover.”
“Did you see which doctors she called?”
“I saw three of them.” The young man told him their names. They were all famous doctors from Chang’an.
“What did they say?” Zhuo Donglai asked. “That the chief’s illness is serious? That if it continues on it could be extremely dangerous?” He thought for a long time and then sighed. “Now is not the time for him to fall ill. It’s really unfortunate.”
“Why?”
This young man was clearly one of Zhuo Donglai’s most trusted aides, for him to dare ask such a question.
In the inner room, the muscles in Die Wu’s body suddenly grew tense. Because she once again heard Zhuo Donglai’s cruel voice. Very slowly, he said, “Because in the next day or two, Zhu Meng will be returning.
**
(1) The expression for massacre literally means that the streets were bathed with blood.
(2) Literally he uses the word “sir” or “mister” to refer to the man. But since English doesn’t usually use these as respectful ways to address people, especially when combined with “old,” I’m going to use the word “master” instead.
(3) These are obviously traditional style garments. I believe this is the type of outfit she is wearing: