Eagle (18 page)

“We can meet right here,” Ying replied. “This is a busy area. You should be able to find an inn nearby.”

Hok nodded. “How long will you be gone?”

“I'm not sure,” Ying replied. “I don't know how long it will take to get there, and I should probably spend some time with her. How about three days?”

“Three days sounds good,” Hok said. “Let's meet here at sunset.”

Ying nodded and glanced at ShaoShu. “I almost forgot something important,” Ying said. “Hok, open your medicine bag, please.”

Hok gave Ying a quizzical glance but did as he asked. Ying untied his bag of coins from his sash with one hand and dumped half the contents into Hok's medicine bag.

“You did well, ShaoShu,” Ying said. “You deserve this.”

ShaoShu grinned but didn't say a word, his mouth still locked closed.

“You can talk now,” Ying said.

“I'm rich!” ShaoShu squealed. “Thank you!”

Ying smiled. As much as he hated to admit it, he was going to miss
Little Mouse.
“Take care of Hok while I'm gone, okay?” he said.

ShaoShu suddenly grew serious. “I will guard her with my life,” he said. Ying didn't doubt it.

Hok offered Ying a polite bow. “Safe travels, and good luck.”

Ying nodded back. He let go of the pylon and the current began to pull him gently away. ShaoShu waved an enthusiastic goodbye, and Ying actually returned the wave. Then he turned away, grabbed the oar, and began to row downstream.

T
he river was pleasantly smooth, and Ying felt himself relaxing as he left the crowded city behind. Five hours later, he spotted the pagodas.

Ying turned the skiff south, as the pet vendor had directed, and headed up a rather wide creek. He lifted the oar out of the water so that it wouldn't drag along the bottom, and picked up the push pole. He had to work against the creek's current, but it wasn't difficult. The current was light and his shoulder felt strong.

As Ying poled the boat forward, the landscape quickly changed from flat farmland along the Qiantang River to steep, ragged hillsides farther inland. The slopes were thick with evergreens, but some had hundreds of wide steps carved into them, where farmers
grew crops of tea leaves all the way up to the hilltops. Ying had never seen anything like it. It seemed the locals were determined to squeeze a living out of this scenic but rugged landscape.

Ying took a deep breath of the fresh, warm air. It smelled of pine, cypress, and green tea. He felt oddly at home. He'd heard a saying once about this region: “Above is Heaven, below is Hangzhou.” He had to agree.

A little more than one
It
up the creek, Ying reached his destination. It was exactly as the pet vendor had told him it would be.

The house looked very old, but solid as a mountain. It was single-story and fashioned from brown bricks. It had a traditional green-tiled roof, and each of the roof's corners swept sharply upward to dispel evil spirits. Standing guard at the end of each corner was an ornate stone dragon. Each dragon was different, and Ying couldn't seem to pull his eyes from them. They faced north, south, east, and west. Each also represented a different season. Whoever had carved them had put a lot of effort and energy into them. Ying could almost feel them pulsating with life.

Ying couldn't help but think about the dragon scrolls and the treasure. The scroll map did lead to this area, and a house like this one seemed to be an appropriate place to hide a dragon's hoard. He would have to keep his eyes open for potential clues.

Ying looked farther down the creek and saw a garden thick with early-autumn vegetables. In the center
of it knelt a small woman wearing a large straw hat. In one hand, she held several clumps of weeds. In the other was a long blade used for digging them up. She turned and stared at Ying.

A deep chill ran down Ying's spine. The woman's face was shadowed by the wide-brimmed hat, but it didn't matter. He knew who she was.

Nervous tension twisted Ying's stomach muscles into knots. His limbs grew numb, and he felt the pole slipping out of his hands. He gripped it tighter and continued pushing the skiff up the creek.

Ying watched as his mother slowly stood and advanced toward him. She dropped the clumps of weeds at the garden's edge but kept the blade in her hand.

The black silk mask fluttered across Ying's face, and he began to fumble with it, cursing himself. Why was he acting like a nervous child? He needed to keep his head clear. After all, his mother was holding a weapon. Ying shook his head violently, flinging the mask from his face, and pushed the skiff ashore.

Ying's mother stopped several paces from the skiff and removed her hat. Physically, she looked the same as he remembered. Her eyes were large, her nose was small, and her lips were full. Her long black hair was pulled back in a braid and several wisps hung free around her cheeks.

Ying stared at his mother as though she were a stranger. He bowed. “Greetings. I am Ying.”

His mother scanned the dragon creases carved into his face. He knew that she was looking right through
them, into his soul. “So I see,” she replied. “You have changed, my son.”

“Yes, I have.”

Ying's mother nodded. “Welcome, then, Ying. You may call me WanSow.”

Ying blinked and thought,
Cloud Hand?
That wasn't her name. She'd changed it.

WanSow seemed to read his mind. “Like the seasons, many things change. You and me included. I am rather surprised you recognized me. You were very young when we last saw one another.”

Ying gestured to his face. “I am surprised
you
recognized
me.
”

WanSow shook her head. “If I were blindfolded, I would know who you are. Your father's
chi
is strong in you.”

Ying felt another chill run down his spine. He didn't reply.

“How did you find me?” WanSow asked.

“It's a long story,” Ying said.

“Why have you come? You don't seem particularly happy to see me again.”

“I came here for answers.”

WanSow closed her eyes. “I may not have the answers you seek. Or, worse, you may not like the answers you hear.”

“I'll take my chances.”

WanSow opened her eyes. Ying thought he saw a glimmer of challenge in them.

“So, you're a risk taker?” she asked.

“I suppose I am,” Ying replied. “Why?”

“Because if you are, you will be willing to take part in a simple exercise with me. If you accomplish the task, I will answer all of your questions. However, if you fail, you will stay and work with me until you can complete the task. Agreed?”

“No, I need more details,” Ying said. “What is the task? And what is this work you are talking about if I fail? I must be back in Hangzhou in a few days.”

WanSow flicked a wisp of long black hair out of her eyes. “If you fail, the work is a series of mental and physical drills to help you further develop and focus your
chi.
As for the task, all you have to do is attack me and push me over.”

“What?”

“The exercises I practice build strength from the inside out. They help a person remain grounded on many levels. You would benefit from the training. I can tell.”

Ying's eyes narrowed. “Why would I want to attack you?”

“Because I am challenging you. Are you afraid?”

Ying frowned. “No. What techniques can I use?”

“Any technique you may know.”

Ying nodded. “Let's get this over with, then.” He put his hands out. “How do we begin?”

“You decide. I'm just going to stand here.”

Ying shrugged. He formed eagle-claw fists with both hands and walked up to his mother.

WanSow dropped the blade she had been holding
and sank into a deep horse stance. She raised her hands to chest height.

Ying thrust both his fists out at WanSow's shoulders. It wasn't a complicated attack. He expected his mother to shift sideways, but she didn't. Instead, she leaned backward, absorbing Ying's force, and latched on to his wrists with her hands.

Ying found himself being pulled off balance. He twisted to one side, expecting to draw away, but his mother twisted with him. His balance was now really off center, and just as Ying thought he might right himself, WanSow jerked his wrists hard in the direction he was leaning. She let go, and Ying tumbled to the ground.

WanSow straightened, her feet still firmly rooted to the ground. She took a few steps backward and winked at him.

Ying stood and scowled. He formed two eagle-claw fists again and ran straight at his mother. Again, she sank into a deep horse stance, raising her hands chest-high.

A moment before impact, Ying leaped into the air. He pulled his legs back and fired them out at Wan-Sow's head.

WanSow ducked.

As Ying sailed over his mother's head, she reached up and grabbed the seat of his black silk pants. She latched on tight and twisted in the direction of Ying's momentum, pulling her body powerfully down toward the earth. Ying's trajectory changed and he found himself slammed to the ground, backside-first.

Ying groaned and turned to see WanSow's feet still rooted to the earth. She smiled at him. “How many chances do I get? I could do this all day.”

Ying stood and dusted himself off. “Well, I can't.”

“Are you planning to leave? Or are you going to keep your end of the deal and train with me?”

Ying frowned. “I'm going to keep my end of the deal, at least until I have to leave. Just make sure you keep
your
end.”

“Of course,” WanSow replied. “Feel free to try and accomplish your task anytime, any day. It is an important exercise in control to be ready at any given moment.”

“I'll remember that,” Ying said. “I should warn you, though, I am a very quick study.”

“We shall see,” WanSow said with a smirk. She looked up at the sky. “It will be dark soon. Come into the house. I suggest you get some rest. First thing tomorrow, your training begins.”

Y
ing woke early the next day, well before sunrise. He wanted some time alone before he began his training with his mother at daybreak. He put on his silk robe and pants but left his feet bare.

Ying slipped out of the house onto the cool, dew-drenched grass. A chill raced from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, making his scalp tingle. He savored it. It made him feel alive.

Ying rounded the back corner of the house and stopped dead in his tracks. Someone was outside, standing still as a statue. At least, that's what he thought at first. He soon realized that the person was actually moving incredibly slow. It was his mother.

Ying watched, hypnotized by how slowly she was
moving. Her belly—not her chest—rose and fell steadily with each breath, much like the elderly people he had seen along the canal. Her movements were light and flowing, yet somehow heavy and dense at the same time. Like a rain cloud.

Ying didn't know how long he stood watching her, but by the time his mother had finished, the sun was beginning to rise. She turned to him, seemingly in a trance. Then she blinked a few times, and Ying saw consciousness return to her eyes.

“Oh, good morning, Ying,” WanSow said in a gentle voice. “I didn't see you there.”

“I've been here quite some time,” he replied.

“I was meditating,” WanSow said. “That's what
Tai Chi Chuan
is, moving meditation.”

“That's what you're going to teach me,
Tai Chi
?
”
Ying asked. “Is that what you used against me yesterday?”

WanSow nodded.

“I thought
Tai Chi
was a collection of movements and breathing exercises for old people.”

“It is internal and external exercise for anyone of any age. Elderly individuals particularly enjoy it because a person doesn't have to be big and strong or young and flexible to do it. It also happens to be a very effective fighting art.
Tai Chi Chuan,
or
Tai Chi
for short, is many things. Are you ready to begin?”

“Shouldn't we eat breakfast first?”

“No.
Tai Chi
is best done the moment you wake up.

It gives you energy for the entire day. We will start with a breathing exercise.”