Living to Suffer Read online

  “Are those words true?”

  “Which ones? Cherish life and fear death? Certainly.”

  “Nay, the previous ones. You said there was nothing good about living.”

  “…”

  “Hengsu, lie not to thyself.”

  “…”

  “I wish for your total consent. If not, I will not force you.”

  “Are those words true?”

  “…”

  “This is what you call ‘the apple does not fall far from the tree,’ Shifu. Lie not to thyself.”

  A deep rumble of thunder sounded from the horizon, and immediately, rain began pouring down in buckets. Soaking in the spring, Ch’in Ching had his eyes closed while resting his head on a hand. Suddenly, the cold rain ceased to hit his head. He blinked open his eyes to find Shifu on one of his expected quarterly visits. The man stood by the pool with an umbrella, dressed in black, the same old ethereal figure.

  “I have been most disrespectful, Shifu. I lost the umbrella you painted for me last time.”

  “It is of no concern. I can simply paint another one for you.”

  “Could you paint a fan this time?”

  “The weather is becoming colder. You will not be an embarrassment and wave around a fan in winter.”

  “Hah.”

  “…Hengsu, two months ago an intruder entered the Shaolin[4] Treasure Pagoda.”

  “Mhm.”

  “The abbot had made preparations. Skilled persons of Wutang[5], Songshan[6], O-mei[7], and Ch’ing-ch’eng[8] had gathered in the pagoda and created powerful formations.”

  “And the results?”

  “Within an ace of victory.”

  “I see.”

  “Huisheng-tashi[9] channeled all his cultivation into one ultimate strike, but not even that could end the life of the intruder.”

  “And what of the tashi?”

  “Gone to meet his maker.”

  “…”

  “Hengsu…the identity of the intruder…”

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  “…News came one month ago that the hufa of the Hsing Sect had returned safely.”

  “I know. It was I who saved him.”

  Ch’in Ching witnessed a rare display of speechlessness from his shifu and chuckled aloud.

  “How comes it that you did not foresee it this time, Shifu? I thought your divinations had already reached a supernatural level.”

  “…So be it. All is predestined. Heaven’s will–”

  “Heaven’s will shall not be violated. Say, could you tell me something new for once?”

  “…”

  “You shouldn’t linger on that thought. Let us discuss the key issue. Is the Hsing Sect in possession of the last two pages?”

  “They should not be. That the pages were in Shaolin was a lie to begin with. ‘Tis a pity however…”

  “No need for pity now. It is fine that they have not obtained the pages. I have plans of my own.”

  “…”

  “Shifu?”

  “Do not tire of my wordiness, Hengsu… I simply want to ask you one more time, have you any resentment?”

  “So what if I do?”

  “…”

  “Shifu, I’ve long forgotten words of hypocrisy.

  Ch’in Ching let his smile fade and straightened his pose and expression.

  “For the land, for humanity, I have no resentment.”

  After lich’iu came chungch’iu[10]. Ch’in Ching had no family other than his shifu, so the festivities were of little interest to him. Rather his dice hand was itching for some long-awaited action. Seeing that litung[11] was still some fortnights away, he hopped on a boat to Chinling[12] and dove head first into the largest gambling house in town, staying from dusk to dawn. By the time he stepped out of the establishment, his steps were wobbly and his eye bags dark.

  The only game that Ch’in Ching played was sic bo.[13] Simple and painless, one could win big or lose everything, and the delight was all in the transition between those two extremes.

  Ch’in Ching had never concerned himself with money. When he became swept up by the game, he went all in, betting and losing all of his silver. He made a ‘tsk-tsk’ sound without appearing very troubled at all and ambled out of the gambling house empty-handed.

  Only when he left did he realize he might not even be able to pay for the boat ride home. Then he took a look at himself – a blue cotton robe that was faded white from numerous washings and a plain old peachwood hairpin – and found nothing he could even pawn for money.

  Searching himself all over, he dug out a few pieces of copper. Although it was not sufficient for the boat, it was for a few hearty shaoping.[14] He thought Chinling was not terribly far from his dwelling, a three day walk, and he could pick some wild fruits for sustenance along the way. With that, he began his trip with the shaoping in hand, strolling towards the city gates.

  The state roads were safe, but that route was longer. After half a day of walking, Ch’in Ching turned onto a tiny path cutting through the hills. With the sky dimming, it became prime time for monetary and sexual harassment.

  Perhaps the heavens knew Ch’in Ching was lacking in both departments and did not send any bandits or lechers his way. However, karma did send trouble his way, of an origin even Ch’in Ching had forgotten.

  Ch’in Ching eyed the three assailants before him. They looked somewhat familiar, but he could not recall the time he had last met them.

  “My friends…could it be that I had the honour of saving an adversary of yours?”

  “A damnable honour, all right!” The bulky man who was the least familiar to Ch’in Ching spat in disgust at the lack of shame displayed. “You simple-minded lad, you held a candle to the devil!”

  “So you come looking for trouble with the doctor instead of the actual villain…” Ch’in Ching sighed. Thinking this trip was going to be one of relaxation, he did not even bring the soft sword that he received as a gift from his shifu, so he picked up a dead tree branch from the ground. “After you.”

  Although Ch’in Ching had a much higher mastery of medicine and circles and formations compared to the art of the sword, he was considered strong amongst the second-raters. If not for his heart condition and its subsequent restriction on his neikung, he might have had more luck with climbing the ranks of the chianghu.

  Using the opponent’s force against him, turning solid into hollow, Ch’in Ching appeared rather at ease with the dried branch, but regardless of his success against swords and knives, he could not defend against concealed weapons – poor neikung equaled poor ch’ingkung. Even though his eyes recognized the threat, his feet could not react quickly enough.

  The girl who looked the most familiar threw a handful of caltrops, two of which Ch’in Ching deflected, two of which he evaded and two of which hit him. He dropped his stance and surrendered. “M’lady, if you have vented your anger, I believe it is time to let me go. I, Ch’in, promise to ask for their full name, their patzu,[15] whether they are betrothed before I save anybody else in future!”

  The girl did not hold a great grudge, and Ch’in Ching had learnt his lesson. Although the girl was thin-skinned and disliked his tongue-in-cheek comments, she did not bother to stoop to his level and left with her gang after shooting him a deadly glare.

  Ch’in Ching found a tree to sit against while appreciating how proper the pupils of the orthodox sects were. They might have been a little arrogant, but they knew the boundaries. The concealed weapons had not been coated with poison, only with monkshood extract and one extra ingredient, orange jessamine. It was an anesthetic that also reduced swelling and hastened the healing process of flesh.

  But coincidentally and unfortunately, the harmless orange jessamine spelled disaster for him.

  “Hail to you, Ch’in Ching.”

  As daylight faded away, the orange jessamine began reacting with the medicines Ch’in Ching had been taking since an early age, and his temperature spiked. In his fever
ish state, he heard a familiar voice greeting him and answered wryly, “What a coincidence, Shen-hufa.”

  “Many days have passed. Have you decided what it is that you desire?”

  “Shen-hufa, I know no action of mine can escape your eyes. But I won’t die here even if you leave me be. You will get nothing out of this.”

  “You overthink, Ch’in-taifu.”

  “Hah…What I do think is that the heavens must have taken pity on my craven self…” Ch’in Ching opened his eyes and looked at Shen Liangsheng smilingly. “Too afraid to go to that hellish place to find you, but still wanting to see you again… And lo and behold, the mountain cometh to me.”[16]

  “The yin pass is in your hands. I had to come to you sooner or later, so no need for impatience.”

  “Indeed…” Ch’in Ching chuckled softly before closing his eyes again. “Then let us talk after my sleep.”

  * * * * *

  Author’s comment:

  Shen-hufa is twenty-six, not a small number. Other parts of him are not small either.

  I appreciate the comment “waiting for the continuation.” The truth is this story is just for self-entertainment purposes, to fight the loneliness when I get bored. I almost wanted to drop this because nobody was reading and I have no time to be all wistful and lonely. Thank you to the madam up there. Seeing the word “waiting” made me realize I do want to finish writing this.

  There’s someone waiting, and although it’s for a lame story, it’s still heart-warming.

  Therefore I decided to say a few more words to express my gratitude – unlike the bottled-up Shen-hufa whose habits are not good for the mind and body -.-

  PS. I said I’d write smut, but it’s been 14k characters and the uke has only been able to entertain himself. How sad orz

  * * * * *

  [1] Early August. The 13th solar term that signifies the beginning of autumn in East Asia.

  [2] The title used towards one’s teacher.

  [3] Acupuncture points that would induce sleep.

  [4] A fictional sect based on the real Shaolin Monastery.

  [5] A fictional sect based on Mt. Songshan like Shaolin but on a different peak.

  [6] A fictional sect based on the real Wudang Monastery.

  [7] A fictional sect based on the real Emei Monastery.

  [8] A fictional sect based on the real Qingcheng Monastery.

  [9] A title for a high-ranking monk.

  [10] Mid-autumn, or more commonly the Mid-Autumn Festival

  [11] Early November. The 19th solar term that signifies the beginning of winter.

  [12] An old name for Nanking/Nanjing.

  [13] A dice game of chance of ancient Chinese origin.

  [14] A baked flatbread.

  [15] Literally ‘eight characters,’ an East Asian concept of one’s birth hour, date, month and year, each represented by two characters, affecting one’s destiny. It is similar to the idea of fortunetelling based on horoscope or zodiac.

  [16] This is wordplay based on the expression “The mountain cometh not to me, and I shall go to it.” The expression itself comes from the Islamic tale of Mohammed summoning a mountain that entered the Chinese language through the Muslim Hui minority. A related expression in English is “If Mohammed will not go to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed.”

  Chapter V

  He called it sleep but it was no different than unconsciousness.

  The effect of the orange jessamine on Ch’in Ching was equivalent to poison, but he grew up eating medicine rather than rice and had even tried fighting fire with fire to alleviate his cardiac pain. A bit of poison would not do him much harm. He simply needed to undergo a fever.

  His head felt as though it were on fire, but the rest of him seemed to be soaked in ice water. He was senseless, but his teeth were chattering by themselves.

  The autumn wind ran wild and brisk through the woods. Seeing Ch’in Ching curled up in a pathetic lump by the tree, Shen Liangsheng took him by the collar and carried him as he would a sack. Quick as a phantom, he zipped through the area until he came upon a cave. Then he flung the man inside to save him from the torture of the wind.

  He flung the man but also sent along a concealed force. The man weighed close to ten stones but fell to the floor without a sound, without a single speck of dust displaced, as though he were gently placed. The intricacies involved in this move were obvious.

  Hands clasped behind him, Shen Liangsheng stood at the mouth of cave awaiting Ch’in Ching’s fever and slumber to come to an end. After a pot of tea’s time, he heard his name softly called.

  He turned around and approached only to find the man still unconscious and murmuring in his dreams.

  Shen Liangsheng stared coolly at the man for a while and then bent down to inspect his breath. Warm and steady. The man would not die.

  He straightened up and stood in the darkness, eyes downcast. Beside his feet was a slumbering man calling his name.

  Ch’in Ching rolled over in his sleep, his forehead touching Shen Liangsheng’s shoe. His arm would not stay still either and crept up so that his hand wrapped loosely around Shen Liangsheng’s ankle. He went quiet after that.

  Shen Liangsheng still stood there in silence, his face not revealing his thoughts, but he did not kick the man away.

  Dawn had not yet broken when Ch’in Ching awoke. Blinking his eyes, he realized he was in another location.

  A cave in the mountains. Not a ray of light to tell sky from earth. The heat in his head, which was not a serious problem to begin with, had gone down.

  He raised his hand to rub his forehead, scraping Shen Liangsheng’s leg in the process, and noticed how close the man was.

  Looking up, he saw a desolate shadow darker than night.

  After a moment, Ch’in Ching cracked a smile as he shakily dragged himself up by the ends of the man’s outer robe to stand nearly face to face with him. His hands sneaked around the man’s waist.

  In that darkest moment immediately prior to dawn, he barely managed to make out the blurry image of the man’s face. Shen Liangsheng wore the same emotionless expression, and surprisingly Ch’in Ching kept quiet, merely staring intently back at the man, as if thinking about something.

  They were so close that their lashes could cross, that they breathed each other’s air. Ch’in Ching slowly leaned in, closing the final hair’s breadth to come lip to lip with the man.

  “What is it you desire?” Shen Liangsheng finally spoke, his tone flat without shock or fury as though they were sitting across a table rather than standing with lips touching.

  “What I desire you will not, or cannot, give me.” Not taking the opportunity to advance further while the man was talking, Ch’in Ching merely kept his lips on those of the man. As he talked, the lips rubbed lightly against one another, creating an unspeakable, secretive, twisted sense of intimacy. “So I ask for a stalk of huai-meng ts’ao.”[1]

  “What for?”

  “Medicine.”

  “Very well.”

  Once the negotiation was finalized, Ch’in Ching pulled back and walked to the mouth of the cave. As he stood tall in the weak dawn light which was just reaching over the horizon, the wild, repressed lust began to calm down under the gusts of cold autumn wind, and his boiling blood slowly returned to its original, dead state.

  Soon, the new sun burst through casting its life-giving, fiery luminance onto all beings. Though winter would shortly be upon the land, when the grass would wither and the flowers would fall, they all would live once again next year, and the cycle would continue without end. At that thought, a smile made its way onto Ch’in Ching’s face. Of course he had no resentment.[2]

  It was written in Tung-ming Chi: [3] “On the mountain where fire grows is the meng ts’ao which resembles the cattail, is red in colour and shrinks into the earth by day, coming forth at night. Its alternative name is huai-meng.”

  The strange plant recorded in the literature truly did exist and grew on t
he peak of Mount Fut’u,[4] and Mount Fut’u just so happened to be the location of the Hsing Sect’s headquarters, a place into which outsiders had much difficulty gaining entrance.

  Ch’in Ching explained that this plant required a unique picking process and that it would lose its effects after three k’e,[5] and therefore he needed to personally visit the site. Shen Liangsheng replied with an indifferent look.

  “Do you think I enjoy the idea of visiting that godforsaken place where one can enter but not leave? Yet there simply is no other way.” Ch’in Ching brought his hands together[6] and laughed apologetically. “So I must ask you to do me this favour.”

  Shen Liangsheng shot him another look before suddenly reaching out, playing the same trick again. He lifted the doctor up by the collar and began to flit northward.

  Ch’in Ching was shorter but not by much. He found it quite uncomfortable being carried like this. Wind gushed in his ears, and his vision blurred. It was then that he knew he was not prone to carriage-sickness or seasickness but ch’ingkung-sickness. He managed to find the breath to speak. “Shen-hufa, I must return to my hut to retrieve some tools and herbs…”

  The moment he finished the final syllable, his vision blurred again. Shen Liangsheng had taken a sharp eastward turn, not slowing down at all in the process. Ch’in Ching felt so sick that he had to put all his effort into not vomiting.

  What would take a normal man two days to walk merely took Shen Liangsheng little more than two hours. Although he had been carrying another man, he was breathing steadily and appeared relaxed when he landed. On the other hand, Ch’in Ching held his knees and retched for a few minutes. By the time he finished he was a big teary mess.

  Ch’in Ching’s hut had been built in the depths of the mountains, and he had set protective circles at the entrance to the path leading to it. Shen Liangsheng accompanied him to the mouth of the valley and announced that the doctor had an hour to gather his equipment before departing.

  After he retrieved his things, Ch’in Ching shuffled out of the valley and began bargaining meekly, “Well, Shen-hufa, the fact of the matter is that I’m not in a rush, so might I suggest that we hire a carriage–”