Note: For a character’s internal thought, I have switched from single quotes ‘like this’, to dashes, –like this–. I think this will make things a bit clearer. Will try to go back and change that in previous chapters as well.

Also enabled comments. Always meant to, but I guess I wasn’t ticking that box.

(Day 42)

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

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 new 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.  By itself, it 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 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.  –The lower body seems to be different…  Kunlun is taller, the stances higher.  It feels more comfortable.  But maybe it’s because I’m more used to it.–

Even with the hours of additional training every day, he had not neglected the styles of Kunlun.  Chen Rulan took up what little free time there was each evening but Pengfei continued to hone the techniques he had already learned during the normal group training.  The empty hand dominated his attention and saw the most improvement.  

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 internal energies are 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 channel energy to his arm for a strike, Shaolin would send qi to the legs, waist, and back.  And it wasn’t just the pathways used.  The terminology indicated that the Buddhist sect cultivated different qualities as they looked inward. 

‘Qi of the Nine Yangs.’

‘Energy of the Golden Bell and Iron Body.’

They 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.

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

(Day 60)

The six of them made their way through the markets.  Pengfei inspected the wares with interest.  He hadn’t seen much of them on his trip with Elder Rulan at the start of winter.  But whatever eagerness the boy felt at the spectacles around him could not compare to what his companions were exhibiting.  They gaped and gasped at everything about them.

“Is this the first time you’ve been to town?” Pengfei asked of Nanxi.

“We came through here when the caravan brought us to Kunlun as children, but we didn’t get to see much of it back then.  Should I buy this?”

Pengfei dragged his friend away from the poorly crafted jewelry.  There were plenty of other gaudy trinkets to distract and entice as they wound their way through the stalls of the Hotan bazaar.  The merchants called out in a variety of languages.  The language of the Uyghurs dominated, but when they saw the disciples of Kunlun they would throw out a few phrases in the dialects of the Central Plains.  The swords hanging at the sides of the teenagers did not seem to dissuade or intimidate the sellers at all.

Shutian and Xiaotong were tight with their coin purses.  The twins, Tianwei and Tianxun, spent more freely, mostly on food.  But everyone knew better than to waste too much money here.  Pengfei had forbidden his companions from spending anything at all for the first two days, until the sense of wonder had worn off.  They were in town for a month and needed to budget accordingly. 

“Take this for a minute.”  

Nanxi held out the heavy sack for Pengfei.  Odds and ends from the blacksmith, items that had been ordered months ago.  Pengfei shifted the canvas bag to his shoulder as the other boy searched through his robes for his coins, drawn in at last by some crafty sales pitch.  

They made it to the outskirts of the commercial district without being too horribly scalped.  Beyond the stalls and shops were the headquarters and warehouses of the major traders.  

The disciples approached one of these buildings.  Another of Kunlun’s holdings.  A defunct clinic that Elder Chen Lei had operated in the past, in the days before the Jin generation had arrived.  

That much was allowed, even under the terms of the sect’s decades long punishment.  

The building had been shuttered for years, the physician confined to the sect’s main compound to tend to young disciples and begin training students in the basics of medicine.  The clinic was loaned out to the tea merchant next door for storage.  But now, rumor was that Chen Lei would be returning to Hotan with his wards to further develop their skills in the healing arts.  For now, the clinic served as base of operations for the Kunlun disciples while they were in town.

Pengfei dropped the sack of tools just inside the door, then grabbed a large bunch of grapes from a nearby table and went out the back door.  The rear area was fenced in, more to deter thieves and trespassers, but it made decent corral for Horse.  She trotted over when Pengfei appeared.

“Just one more day.” He assured the mare as he fed her grapes.  “Tomorrow we’ll go check out the herd Kunlun has bought.  Plenty of room to move, some new friends for you…”

The mare nickered happily as she ate the small fruits from Pengfei’s palm.  When they were gone, he wiped his hand on her neck, turning it into an affectionate scratch.  But once the snack disappeared, Horse had little patience for the boy.  She walked off.

“You two have a strange relationship.” 

Pengfei turned to see Nanxi had come to find him.  He said to his friend, “She can be hot and cold.”

The other boy stood silently next to Pengfei for a moment and they both watched as the black steed moved about the dry yard in front of them.  

“You’ve been pretty quiet since we passed the canyon on the way to town.”  

Pengfei nodded.  “I’m fine.  Just in my head.  Doesn’t help that Neng has been weird about it.”

“From what you told me, you did what you had to do.”

Nanxi put a hand on his shoulder and started to say something but was interrupted by the appearance of the twins.

“Visitors.  Lamas.” 

“Pissed about something.  Like they want to fight.”

“Are you serious?  No, you guys are screwing with me, aren’t you?”  Pengfei asked, incredulous.  

–It can’t be them.–

He had told his friends about the passing encounter with the Tibetan monks last time he was in Hotan.  But he never thought he would see them again.  Yet, when Pengfei marched back inside the old and dusty clinic, there they were.  A gaggle of young men, seven or eight, in dark red robes stood outside.  Blocked from entering by Shutian and Xiaotong.  They seemed to be the same age as the Kunlun disciples, most of them a year or two older than Pengfei.  One of the strangers absent mindedly rubbed his shaved head.

“What do you guys want?”

The question was met with silence and glares.

“Doesn’t seem like they understand.”  Xiaotong remarked.

Nanxi poked his head over the other’s shoulder.  “Thanks for the valuable insight, Xiaotong.  That was really helpful.”

“Screw you.”

“What should we do?”  Shutian asked.

Pengfei thought a moment

–They’ve waited for four months and gone to the trouble of tracking me down… Don’t think they’re going to just let this go if we slam the door in their faces.–

“Let them in, I guess.  See if we can figure something out.”

The disciples took a step back from the doorway and beckoned the lamas inside.  The guests followed, looking left and right suspiciously as they crossed the threshold, but remaining silent.

Pengfei turned to Shutian.  “Make some tea for them.”

“Tea?  What tea?  Do you have tea hidden up your ass somewhere?”

“There’s bricks of tea leaves stacked over there.  Quit being a dick and break one open.”

Shutian grumbled but did as requested.  Pengfei wished he had taken the task upon himself.  It would have saved him some awkwardness.  The Tibetans milled about the large clinic.  Poked through the cluttered boxes and crates of stored goods.  They chatted amongst themselves in little snippets, occasionally pointing at one of the Kunlun disciples.  Two of the lamas in particular were focused on Pengfei.  They eyed him malevolently and discussed between themselves.  Nodding and murmuring.

After an interminable silence, with no help from his friends, Pengfei broke down.  “I like your haircuts.  We shaved our heads a while back.  It was a whole thing… but I’ve been thinking about doing it again.”  

“You should tell them about how I –“

“Nope.”  Pengfei cut off Nanxi before he could broach the subject any further.

The strangers did not acknowledge or respond to the words, or any other attempts at conversation.  Before the water could boil, one of the strangers found the back door and beckoned his companions outside with a foreign phrase.  Pengfei followed with the rest of the disciples, except Shutian who was left behind to finish the tea.

In the dusty courtyard, the lamas clumped together and faced the boys from Kunlun.  They spoke hurriedly now.  The two that had been glaring at Pengfei stood at the fore.  Both tall, strong.  They looked similar.  Brothers or cousins, maybe.  More muscular than Pengfei, despite the disciple’s modest development during the winter.  

The two Tibetans stepped forward and introduced themselves in unambiguous language, pointing to themselves in turn.

“Jigme.”

“Chodak.”

Jigme stepped farther and crossed the gap to Pengfei.  He spoke for several seconds, becoming more animated as he did so, his voice reaching a shout by the end of his remarks.  Pengfei listened, eyes squinted, trying to catch any hint of meaning in the few phrases he knew or the body language.  But there was nothing.  He looked back to his friends.  They just shrugged helplessly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t – “

A slap across the face muted the words.  Pengfei’s head jerked to the side with the impact.  Shouts immediately rang out from his friends.  A push kick from Nanxi sent Jigme back a few steps but with no apparent damage.  The other Tibetans surged forward at this attack.  The Kunlun disciples drew their swords in a fearsome unison.

Everyone froze at that.  Horse neighed, her attention drawn by the altercation.  A tension hung in the air from the escalation but was broken when Shutian appeared at the doorway behind them.

“What the fuck is happening?!”  He hissed, holding a tray of teacups.  

Pengfei ignored the question but addressed his friends as he touched his bleeding lip gingerly.  “Put the swords away, put them away.”  

He waved at the weapons in his companions’ hands, as if the motion itself was enough to sheathe the blades.  The other palm he held up to the Tibetans, attempting to forestall any larger conflict.  The glimmer of drawn steel was sending shivers up his spine.  The last time he had seen that…

“Seems like they want to fight me for some reason.”

“No shit.”  Nanxi quipped from his side, making no move to disarm.

“I mean, it seems like they want a fistfight.  They don’t have any weapons.  No reason to start chopping people up.”

The disciples of Kunlun were somewhat mollified by Pengfei’s words.  They relaxed their postures a bit, some of them returned their swords to their scabbards.  Nanxi, notably, did not.  

Pengfei tried to confirm his suspicions in as simple language as possible.  

“You,” he pointed to Jigme, “Me,” he pointed to himself, “Fight?”, he held up his fists and pantomimed a few punches.  

Jigme nodded in comprehension and agreement.  

“Why?”  Pengfei made a show of raising his hands and shrugging in confusion.

The boy didn’t expect much clarification and indeed, the response from Jigme was mostly unintelligible.  But one word stood out.  A name.  Pema.

“Pema?”  Pengfei repeated.

Jigme nodded, and the other one, Chodak, stepped forward and shouted some insult, presumably.  

Nanxi whistled and repeated the girl’s name.  “It’s about Pema, huh?  Well, are you going to fight him?”

Confusion was quickly being replaced with other feelings in Pengfei’s mind.  Darker, more violent feelings.  Anger.  Jealousy.  Even as images of the dark skin and black braids of a girl on horseback flitted about in his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’ll fight him.”