Poetry Chants, Saber Howls – Chapter 6
by Little PandaJianghu Affairs the Heart Yearns For; A Thousand Li to See You Off on First Parting (Part 3)
Prince Rui and Ling Bingzhong were speaking in the flower hall.
Within the hall there was no one but the two of them; a number of guards stood watch in the courtyard outside, and when they saw their young lady approaching hand in hand with the Yiguang County Princess, they hurried forward to beg the two to stop. Ling Cheng waved a hand, utterly unbothered. “I know Prince Rui and Father are both in there. I’ve come to see them about something — don’t get in my way.”
The guards were sorely put upon.
It was not that they feared much else — but the County Princess’s frail condition was known to every one of them by report, and should the County Princess take a fright on account of their stopping her, needless to say their heads would part company with their necks that very instant.
In the midst of their hesitation, Ling Cheng, Xie Miao’s hand in hers, had already reached the outside of the flower hall. She was about to knock and enter when, passing a small window, she abruptly caught a furious:
“Even if you owned your fault and bowed your head, what would it change?”
It sounded like the voice of Prince Rui, Xie Shen.
Ling Cheng and Xie Miao froze, then traded a look, both faces knotted with doubt. Admit fault? Who to whom? Only two people sat inside the flower hall — could it be the two of them had fallen into some quarrel?
Yet against all expectation, Ling Bingzhong’s voice was calm, threaded with only a faint, thin helplessness: “Does Your Highness imagine that I am sulking at the Sage Emperor?”
The more the two girls heard, the deeper their doubts ran; their feet went no farther, and they quietly tucked themselves away at the window’s edge. They heard Prince Rui heave another long sigh: “Perhaps there is some sense in what you say. But you know the Sage’s temper. With matters already at this pass, he will accept your counsel even less than before — or is he to be made to own that he was wrong? We who serve as his ministers — how can we let our sovereign-father lose face?”
Ling Bingzhong said: “The state is the sovereign’s foundation; the people are the state’s foundation1. Raised and schooled by the Sage since childhood, Bingzhong ought all the more to repay sovereign and dynasty with loyalty, setting the people’s wellbeing first in all things — the rest is no more than twigs and loose ends.”
A silence fell over the flower hall.
Then, abruptly, Ling Bingzhong laughed. “Your Highness means well, and Bingzhong takes the kindness to heart. In truth — even should the Sage reproach me, the worst I lose is my command seal; I return to court and stand as one common soldier of the guard. What harm in that? Let us speak no more of it. Now — the year stands between spring and summer, and the weather blows hot and cold. Has the Yiguang County Princess been keeping her health?”
Curious as Ling Cheng was about what those last few exchanges could possibly mean, that curiosity weighed nothing against her boundless concern for Xie Miao. Hearing her father suddenly turn the subject, she pressed closer to the window and listened with redoubled attention. Prince Rui could only let himself be carried along: “You said just now that in Hongzhou there is a physician who might treat Shejia’s stubborn illness? If this person’s art is truly so brilliant, how is it I have never once heard the name?”
From the day Xie Miao was born, for ten whole years, Prince Rui’s Mansion had sought out physicians for her illness past all counting. Every healer with even a modest name had at one time or another been fetched to the capital — and in the end, all of it came to nothing.
Ling Bingzhong said: “Only because she is of the jianghu. These many years she has plied her healing mostly for the sons and daughters of the jianghu, and so her fame has traveled only along jianghu roads. Not long ago I chanced to make the acquaintance of a wandering hero of the martial world. He told me that long ago he took an internal injury of the gravest sort; with his life hanging by a thread, it was this physician who called it back. He praised that physician’s art until it sounded half divine. Such a one, I judge, must truly have some skill.”
Prince Rui said: “In that case, tomorrow I shall send men to Hongzhou to summon this physician.”
Ling Bingzhong said: “That… I fear it will not do.”
“Why not?”
Ling Bingzhong said: “I too have it only by hearsay. Years ago the woman took the tonsure and became a nun — dharma name Jiuru — and she now lives hidden away in Longevity Valley in Hongzhou, long since done with the red dust2 of worldly affairs. Whoever would beg treatment of her must journey to the valley and present themselves before her in person. She will not set beyond that valley so much as half a pace.”
Prince Rui’s brow furrowed. “Tonsured as a nun? She is a woman physician? These jianghu folk are strange creatures indeed — would she truly dare refuse even the men this king sends?”
Ling Bingzhong said: “She is a wanderer of the jianghu, yes — but more than that, she is one who has stepped beyond the world’s bounds3. The Buddha’s gate teaches that all living beings stand equal; I fear that in her eyes… In my own view, we had best send a heavier guard to escort Shejia on this journey.”
Prince Rui burst out: “How could that possibly do? We do not even know what manner of place this Longevity Valley is. Shejia is a County Princess of our dynasty — were she to brush, through carelessness, against that lowest of the nine despised trades4, folk of no known provenance, would her good name not suffer for it?”
In truth, in this dynasty the teachings of Buddha and Dao both flourished, and imperial princesses and county princesses who went to temples and abbeys to cultivate were far from rare — but those temples stood either within the city of Chang’an or among famous mountains and great rivers. Hongzhou, after all, lay rather far afield, and this Dharma Master Jiuru and her Longevity Valley remained far too much of a mystery.
But every jianghu storybook Ling Cheng had devoured since childhood told her otherwise: the more mysterious, the greater the master — the likelier to carry world-shaking arts. So when the talk reached this point she could hardly contain herself; the shout “I’ll go with Shejia — I’ll keep her safe!” very nearly broke loose. Indeed her mouth fell open — but before any sound could escape it, she heard Ling Bingzhong sigh heavily from within:
“But if she is not sent, she is fated never to live to her jiji5. We can hardly, just because—”
The words broke off, cut short.
From beside the window, one irrepressible cry of “What did you say?” sprang out in that same heartbeat, passing crisp and clear into the ears of both men. Prince Rui could not help starting. Much of what he and Ling Bingzhong had said earlier could hardly be called treason — but it had indeed been short of reverence toward the Sage, and should word of it reach any outside ear, ruin might well come calling. He turned his head at once, caught sight of two childish faces at the window, and only then let his breath go. But his anger had not fully drained, and his face stayed stern:
“Why is it you two girls?”
On any other day, Ling Cheng would have stepped forward at once and taken the blame upon herself — told the two elders that she was the one who had dragged Shejia here to listen, and that if there was fault, it was hers alone and had nothing to do with Shejia. But at this moment it was as though some thunderbolt had gone off inside her skull, spraying sparks through her wits. She stood rooted a long moment before hurrying through the door. She looked at Ling Bingzhong and said:
“Father, you… why would you curse Shejia like that…”
Ling Bingzhong had nothing to say.
Xie Miao came along at Ling Cheng’s heels; she reached out one hand and gave Ling Cheng’s fingers a gentle tug.
Ling Cheng looked back, her face utterly at a loss.
Xie Miao said in a low voice: “Uncle was not cursing me. It is true… But hasn’t a way through opened up already?” A smile rose swiftly at the corners of her mouth — half from gladness that was wholly genuine, half to coax Ling Cheng out of her grieving. Then she turned to face Ling Bingzhong and bowed, low and graceful: “Thank you, Uncle, for the grace of a life saved.”
Prince Rui stared at her, astonished: “You… you have known of this all along?”
An ending foreordained to come early is too cruel a thing to hand a child; from first to last, then, they had kept the imperial physicians’ verdict from Xie Miao. How, then, could she…
Xie Miao held her silence a little while before she nodded. “Three years ago. Mother believed I was still lying insensible, and she wept at my bedside. But in truth… in truth, I had already woken by then.”
She had heard the words her mother and her Eldest Brother exchanged.
Prince Rui and Ling Bingzhong heard this and could not keep back their sighs. Had an ordinary child learned that only a few years of life remained to them, they would surely have burst at once into wails of terror — yet this child was too gentle, too forbearing. How could one not cherish her? Tenderness rose in both men’s hearts. But Ling Cheng, standing to one side, was in equal parts anguish and rage.
Three years? Everyone had hidden it from her for three years — even Shejia had hidden it from her for three years! Ling Cheng had always been the proud, unbending sort; never once since the day she was born had she shed tears. Now her heart clenched with pain, once and again, and at the corners of her eyes something stood close to seeping through. She sniffed hard. Xie Miao saw it, and was a step ahead of her — out came a handkerchief, dabbing the dampness from the corners of her eyes — and she said, laughing:
“Why are you still sad? Hasn’t Uncle already found a divine physician for me? Or is it that you think this physician, too, cannot cure my illness?”
That, in truth, was exactly what Ling Cheng feared.
In the old days, when other healers had treated Xie Miao and reached the end of their power, she could comfort Xie Miao — and in the same breath comfort herself: It’s all right. The world holds physicians beyond counting; one day the true divine physician will be found. After all, Shejia’s life was still long. Only today had she learned that Shejia’s span of life, and her own, and the span of most people in this world, were not measured to the same length.
If this so-called divine physician, too, stood helpless before Shejia’s illness, then just how many chances would Shejia have left…
But those were words of ill omen, and she must never let them past her lips.
Prince Rui laid a hand on his daughter’s head and smoothed it. “Set your hearts at ease. Since this physician truly has the skill, I will surely have her brought here to treat you.”
And yet whether to send his daughter to Hongzhou at all — of that he was still unsure. Tomorrow, he thought, he must first send men to look into whether this physician’s origins were truly as Bingzhong had said. Then, half-consciously, he glanced toward the window — and only then saw that the sky had gone dim and boundless, dusk creeping in. Prince of the blood though he was, not even he might defy the night curfew6; and should some political rival submit impeachment over it, the trouble would be no small thing. He made ready at once to take his leave of Ling Bingzhong and carry Xie Miao back to his mansion.
“Uncle.” Ling Cheng had at last brought her feelings back under control. She kept hold of Xie Miao’s hand, refusing to let her go, and stepped up to Prince Rui. “It will be dark soon, and the wind runs sharp in the streets. Let Shejia stay the night here.”
“So be it, then.”
After Prince Rui had gone, Ling Bingzhong directed the servants to bring a small sedan chair and bear the County Princess to the guest quarters to rest. Out from the flower hall, Xie Miao came to the corridor’s edge beside the chair — yet made no move to board it. She stood a moment in thought, then said softly: “Fuli.”
Ling Cheng was still sore over her having hidden her illness. She had half a mind to quarrel with her — then feared her friend’s body could not bear a quarrel — and after turning it over and over, said glumly: “What is it?”
Xie Miao’s voice sank softer still. “Those things Father and Uncle were saying just now — aren’t you curious? Did Uncle… did Uncle do something to anger Grandfather?”
Her own position made it awkward to ask Ling Bingzhong directly; she had meant for Ling Cheng to do the asking. Who could have known that Ling Cheng’s head was now filled with nothing in this world but her, and nothing else held the least interest?
“What’s the harm in that? Whenever Father happens to be home in the capital, don’t I anger him daily just the same?”
And Ling Bingzhong had never once truly punished her for it.
So far as she could see, Grandfather would do no worse to Father than scold him a few times over.
“Hey — Shejia, wait for me. I mean to go ask Father about this Longevity Valley — where in Hongzhou it actually lies.”
Xie Miao said: “Did Uncle not say that Dharma Master Jiuru is of the jianghu? He cannot know so very much of the jianghu either, I fear.”
The words woke her — and Ling Cheng went abruptly still.
Xie Miao said: “What are you thinking?”
Ling Cheng said: “Our house has a jianghu person of its own.”
Xie Miao said: “You mean… Aunt Su?”
The “Aunt Su” of their speech was Su Ying in full — once a wandering saber of the jianghu, who did chivalrous deeds in every quarter and kept no fixed roof. Five years before, passing through a mountain village, Su Ying had lodged a night with one household there and been warmed by their hospitality. Two years on, when chance brought her back through those parts, she went a full hour out of her way on purpose, riding for that village again purely to call on the old friends of that house — only to learn from the other villagers that she had come a step too late: the family of five had all been slaughtered that very morning by a band of brigands.
She put her horse after those brigands. They numbered, by her count, no more than a dozen or so; trusting in her own surpassing skill, she did not fear them — one rider, one saber, she charged in to exact payment for the innocents so cruelly slain. Who could have known that this supposed band of brigands was in truth a party of Western Fan spies sent into Great Chong — that an old man of the murdered household had marked how suspicious they were, and they had perforce donned the brigand’s mask to bury the family’s knowledge with the family?
Since every man among them was a top-tier warrior of the Western Fan, Su Ying — fighting with her life thrown onto the scales — managed to cut down nine. Three remained, and by then she had not the strength left to raise her saber. Fortunately, it was precisely then that Ling Bingzhong — who elsewhere had come upon intelligence that Western Fan spies had slipped into our dynasty’s borders — arrived at the head of soldiers, took the last three alive, and in the passing saved Su Ying’s life.
From the interrogation of those three, Ling Bingzhong learned that their infiltration of Great Chong had two chief aims. The first, naturally, was to sound out the secrets of the Great Chong court. The second was to make for Chang’an and, in the dark, assassinate Ling Bingzhong’s wife and daughter — to throw his heart into disorder.
At this, a genuine disquiet rose in Ling Bingzhong. The Ling Mansion kept no few guards, but their skill was all of middling order; should the Western Fan — or some other hostile tribe or realm — send true masters to make the attempt again, and move with greater secrecy…
When Su Ying learned of it, she came forward of her own accord, in repayment of the grace of her saved life, to stand watch over the safety of Lady Ling and young Lady Ling.
Ling Bingzhong, seeing her art so extraordinary, guessed she must be some famed knight of the jianghu. Were she to remain forever at the Ling Mansion as one small guard among the guard, would that not bury a great gift — a luminous pearl left to gather dust?
Su Ying’s answer was plain: we of the jianghu repay every debt of grace. You saved my life; to serve you is only right and proper.
Ling Bingzhong pondered a long while, then asked Su Ying to remain at the Ling Mansion for three years, teaching arms to the household guard — and if she could school them all into masters, nothing could be better.
Two of those three years had now gone by. Su Ying had long since become the elder whom Ling Cheng most deeply admired and revered; on any ordinary day the sight of her filled Ling Cheng with delight. Only today, only at this hour, it was a face heavy with displeasure that Ling Cheng wore as she knocked upon the door of Su Ying’s rooms.
A moment, and the door opened. Out came a woman of perhaps thirty, a long saber slung at her waist, strikingly handsome of face, her bearing gravely composed — yet at the sight of the small, brow-knotted creature on her threshold, she smiled instead: “I hear General Ling is back in the capital. Have you two been quarreling again?”
Ling Cheng made no answer; she asked a question of her own: “In the jianghu there is a divine physician called Jiuru. Have you heard the name?”
Su Ying started; then understanding arrived all at once — so the ill humor painted across Fuli’s face was not, after all, on Ling Bingzhong’s account. She nodded. “In the jianghu she bears the repute of ‘World’s Foremost Divine Physician.’ Naturally the name has reached me.”
Ling Cheng’s doubt only deepened. “You knew she was the World’s Foremost Divine Physician too? Then why have you never once told me and Shejia?”
Footnotes
- 国者，君之本；民者，国之本 | guó zhě, jūn zhī běn; mín zhě, guó zhī běn | A statecraft maxim echoing the Book of Documents' 'the people are the root of the state' — the Confucian claim that a dynasty stands upon its people's wellbeing, not its ruler's pride.
- 红尘 | hóngchén | Lit. 'red dust'; a Buddhist image for the mortal world — its traffic, desire, and entanglements — from which monastics withdraw.
- 方外士 | fāngwài shì | Lit. 'one who stands beyond the square of the world'; a classical term for monks, nuns, and recluses who step outside secular society and owe it no homage.
- 下九流 | xià jiǔ liú | The 'lower nine' of tradition's despised callings — itinerant players, fortunetellers, porters, and the like — ranked beneath respectable society; a withering slur.
- 及笄之年 | jíjī zhī nián | Classical female coming-of-age at fifteen, when a girl's coiled hair was first pinned up with a hairpin, marking her formal entrance into adulthood.
- 宵禁令 | xiāojìn lìng | Tang Chang'an's dusk-to-dawn curfew: evening drums sealed the ward gates, and no one — prince or commoner — might walk the streets until the dawn drums sounded.
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