3
Liu Dongshan Brags about His Prowess at the City Gate
Eighteenth Brother Leaves His Mark in the Village Tavern
A poem says:
If the weak are crushed by the strong,
It is not because of the size of their bodies.
The centipede that feeds on pythons
Is not endowed with extra-long fangs.
It is said that in this world of ours, every creature has its nemesis. This is why one must never toot one’s own horn and flaunt one’s prowess. As for the centipedes and pythons mentioned in the above poem, well, the region south of the Five Ridges [covering Guangdong and Guangxi] is infested with hundred-foot-long pythons that prey on humans. Therefore, every local household raises red-legged centipedes that can grow to be more than a foot long and keeps them by the pillows. When it senses a python approaching, the centipede begins to make noises, and once released, it arches over and, joining its head and tail, jumps to a height of about ten feet, lands on the python at the lethal spot about seven inches from the python’s head, grips the python with its pair of ironlike fangs, and sucks the python’s blood until it dies. A hundred-foot-long creature done in by a mere foot-long and finger-thin insect—this is what gave rise to the saying “Centipedes feeding on pythons: There’s no accounting for tastes.”
In the third year of the Yanhe [or Zhenghe] reign period [92–88 BCE] under Emperor Wudi of the Han dynasty, the state of Yuezhi [in the Qilian Mountains region in northwestern China] offered as tribute to Emperor Wudi something that it claimed was a beast of prey. Looking like a fifty- to sixty-day-old puppy, it was about the size of a leopard cat. When the messenger from Yuezhi entered the presence of Emperor Wudi carrying the brown-tailed animal in his arms, the emperor was not impressed with its looks. He asked with a smile, “How does this little thing qualify as ‘a beast of prey’?”
The messenger replied, “Dominance in the world of birds and beasts is not necessarily determined by size. The divine kylin, lord of the elephants, and the phoenix, lord of the rocs, are cases in point.”
Unconvinced, the emperor said to the messenger, “We would like to hear it make a sound.”
As soon as the messenger pointed a finger at it, the beast licked its lips, shook its head from side to side, and then, with two shafts of bright light shooting out of its eyes, gave a mighty roar that sounded like a thunderbolt out of the blue. His hands covering his ears, Emperor Wudi was jolted out of his golden throne, trembling uncontrollably. His attendants and the guards of honor all lost their grip on whatever they had been holding in their hands. Irritated, the emperor ordered that the beast be sent to the Imperial Park to feed the tigers. As instructed, it was duly deposited by the tigers’ cage, but the tigers cowered and sank to their knees as soon as they laid eyes on it. On hearing this report from the Imperial Park, the emperor flew into a rage and ordered that it be killed. The very next day, both the messenger and the beast disappeared without a trace. Consider this: Even ferocious tigers were afraid of that little thing! This applies to the human world as well: There is just no limit to the pecking order in terms of physical strength and mental power. Indeed, for every smart one, there is someone smarter. One would be well advised not to indulge in self-glorification.
In the Tang dynasty, there lived a certain candidate for the imperial examinations whose name and native place have escaped my memory. Endowed with great physical prowess, he was a master of martial arts and a man of heroic caliber much given to deeds of honor. Whenever he saw injustice being done, he would literally draw his sword and fight for the wronged side. When he was ready to travel to the capital for the examinations, he chose not to take any servants with him. Made presumptuous by his kung fu skills, he set out all by himself with just a bow and some arrows on his back and a sword strapped to his waist. (MC: The way a mighty hero is supposed to look.) As he rode along on a fine horse, he hunted pheasants and hares and had their meat prepared for him at his lodgings and washed it down with wine.
One day, somewhere in Shandong, his horse galloped so fast that he missed the inn where he had planned to stay. Afternoon had dimmed into evening when he reached a village. Thinking he should not go any farther, he saw a house with light streaming through its open gate. Our examination candidate got off his horse and went in, leading his horse by one hand. He found himself in a spacious yard with a pile of three or four porous rocks from Lake Tai. Facing the gate stood a row of three rooms, on either end of which was a side room. An old woman was seated in the middle, spinning hemp into yarn. On hearing horse hooves in the yard, she rose to ask who was there. Our candidate said at the top of his voice, “Madam, I’m a traveler on the road. I’ve lost my way and would like to stay here for the night.”
“I’m afraid you can’t, sir. I don’t have any say around here.”
Feeling somewhat intrigued when he detected an edge of sadness in her voice, the candidate asked, “Madam, where are the men of the house? Why are you left here alone?”
“I’ve been a widow for many years. My only son is away on business.”
“Do you have a daughter-in-law?”
With a frown, the old woman replied, “Yes, I do. She’s the equal of any man and makes enough to support the family. But she’s so strong, so fierce, and so impatient that hearing one word she doesn’t like raises her hackles, and one poke of her finger is enough to knock you to the ground. So I always try to be as humble as possible around her and take my cue from her in everything. But she still finds fault with me all the time and walks all over me. That’s why I dare not take it upon myself to put you up for the night.” So saying, she burst into tears.
His eyebrows flying up, his eyes popping wide open, our candidate said, “How can there be such injustice in the world! Where is that evil woman? Let me get rid of her for you!” He tied his horse to the rockery and drew out his sword.
“Sir!” said the old woman. “You’ll only be asking for trouble! She’s not one to be trifled with! She does no needlework but goes hunting all by herself in the mountains after lunch every day and brings back deer or rabbits. Then she preserves them in salt and sells them for a few strings of coins. She doesn’t get home until evening. She’s the one who puts food on the table, so I don’t want to ruffle her feathers.”
The candidate put his sword back into its sheath and said, “I’m always hard on the bullies and soft on the weak, and I always take the side of the bullied. How much of a bully can a woman be? But since you depend on her for a living, I’ll spare her life. (MC: Good man.) I’ll just beat her up and give her a good lecture so that she’ll mend her ways.”
“She’s coming home soon. Please don’t make trouble, sir!”
And so our candidate waited in righteous indignation for the woman’s return.
Lo and behold! A hulk of a dark figure entered through the gate, threw a sacklike object into the yard, and shouted, “Old ma! Bring a light and take care of this!”
The old woman said, trembling, “What fancy stuff is it?”
As she brought over a lamp, she gave a start. It was a dead tiger. In less time than it takes to narrate, our candidate’s horse jumped in fear at the sight of the dead tiger. The new arrival asked, “Where did this horse come from?”
From where he stood in the dark, our candidate saw that it was a tall, dark-complexioned woman. Impressed by her appearance and her trophy, he said to himself, “This is quite a woman!” And a slight fear crept into him. He rushed over, led the horse away, tied it securely, and, walking up to the woman, said, “I’m a candidate for the examinations, here because I missed the inn where I was supposed to stay tonight. Luckily, I came to your worthy estate, and since the gate was open, I humbly asked to be put up for the night.”
Affably the woman said, “That old one has no sense! How could she have let such a distinguished guest remain standing out in the open at such a late hour!” Pointing to the dead tiger, she continued, “I came back late because I spent a lot of time dealing with this cursed thing in the mountains. Please forgive me, sir, for not being a good hostess.”
Taking note of her straightforward speech and politeness, the candidate thought, “She’s not a hopeless case, after all.” Aloud he said over and over again, “I wouldn’t presume! I wouldn’t presume!”
The woman went into the main hall and came out again, carrying a chair. She said, “I should have invited you into the hall, but since there’s only me and my mother-in-law in the house and it’s not proper for men and women to be in the same hall without the presence of the master of the house, I’ll have to ask you to settle for less and sit here on the porch instead.” She also brought a table to him and lit a lamp. Then she went and picked up the dead tiger with both hands and headed for the kitchen.
Before long, she brought out a flask of heated wine, a large tray filled with steaming-hot tiger meat, dried deer meat, and five or six plates of salted meat of pheasant, rabbit, and such, and said, “Sir, I hope you won’t find the food too unpalatable.”
Pleased by her attentiveness, our candidate took the flask and dishes and helped himself to the wine and food. After finishing his meal, he said with his hands respectfully folded in front of his chest, “Thank you so much for your hospitality!”
“This is an honor for me!” said the woman as she brought a tray for clearing the table.
While she was thus engaged, our candidate asked, “Madam, you’re such a good hostess and such a heroic woman, but why do I get the feeling that your respect for the elderly leaves something to be desired?”
The woman stopped short. She put the tray down vehemently on the table and said, her eyes flashing fire, “What lies did that old thing tell you?”
The candidate hastened to say, “No, she didn’t say anything! It’s just that, from the way you addressed your mother-in-law, I detected a lack of the respect due someone of her status. But I was quite impressed by the way you treat a guest, and for someone with your outstanding abilities, surely you’re amenable to reason. It was with the best intentions that I brought this up.” (MC: By the look of things, the woman is not at fault. It’s just that her mother-in-law fails to recognize the makings of a great heroine in her. Our candidate’s tongue overruns his discretion.)
With one swift movement, the woman seized him by his sleeve and, holding the lamp in her other hand, dragged him to the rockery and said, “Now let me present my case.”
Unable to struggle free from the woman’s grip, the man said to himself, “If she says anything outrageous, I’ll think of a way to give her a good beating.”
Leaning against the rockery, the woman tapped it with a hand and told about such and such a thing that happened on such and such a day. She concluded with a question, “Was it my fault or hers?” With that, she ran her forefinger down the rock and said, “First case.” Lo and behold! A vertical groove one inch deep appeared in the rock. She told of three incidents in total, and three grooves appeared, as if the character 川 [river], or 三 [three] when seen sideways, had been chiseled into the Taihu rocks. Each line was easily one inch deep, as if chiseled with an iron tool.
Our candidate broke into a sweat. His face flaming red, he said emphatically, “You, madam, were right all three times!” His fiery ardor to set things right had vanished as if extinguished by a bucketful of snow. He hardly even ventured to breathe!
Having presented her cases, the woman brought a bed to the candidate, fed his horse for him, went in, closed the door for the old woman, put out the lamp, and went to sleep. Our candidate, however, passed the whole night without a single wink of sleep. He thought, “I never imagined that there could be a person with such extraordinary strength. Luckily, I didn’t raise my hand against her. Otherwise, I would have been a dead man!” When dawn finally came, he got his horse ready, thanked his hostess, and left quietly without an undue word. From then on, he stopped throwing his weight around and poking his nose into what did not concern him for fear of losing out to another bully.
This brings me to another story of how a boastful man, albeit an able one, was one day given the shock of his life and became a much-talked-about figure of fun. Truly,
The tiger is the lord of all animals;
They cower in fear when in its presence.
But at the roar of the lion,
The tiger loses all its might.
The story takes place in Jiaohe County, Hejian Prefecture, in the Northern Metropolitan Area, during the Jiajing reign period [1522–66].1 A man named Liu Qin, sobriquet Dongshan [East Hill], working as police chief in the Beijing Inspectorate, was a master of kung fu and a skillful archer and rider. Because his arrows never missed a target, he was called by all and sundry “Rapid-Fire Shooter.” The most vicious criminals fell easy prey to him. And so he managed to put aside quite a tidy family fortune. When he was in his thirties, he grew tired of the profession. He submitted his resignation and went looking for another line of work in his native county.
One day toward the end of winter, he herded more than ten donkeys and horses to Beijing and sold them for about a hundred taels of silver. After the deal was concluded, he went to Shuncheng Gate (IC: Xuanwu Gate) to hire a mule for his journey home. In the mule owner’s shop, he ran into a neighbor, Zhang Erlang, who happened to be there. After they had ordered their food, Erlang asked, “Where are you off to, Dongshan?”
Dongshan gave an account of what had happened and added, “I’m here to hire a mule. I’m spending the night here and leaving tomorrow.”
Erlang said, “These are tough times for travelers on the road. Liangxiang and Maozhou are infested with bandits. They rob even in broad daylight. With so much silver on you and you all alone with no traveling companion, you need to watch out so that you don’t become their next victim!”
A huge grin split Dongshan’s face. His eyebrows flew up; his teeth showed. With his hands clenched into fists, his arms assuming the position of an archer drawing a bow (MC: The posture of a mighty hero.), he burst into hearty laughter and said, “For twenty years, my bow has served me unfailingly in my police work. I’ve never missed a target, and I’ve never met anyone who’s my equal. I won’t come out of this business trip badly!”
Everyone in the shop turned around to find the source of the thundering voice. Some asked who he was and, on learning his name, were impressed and said, “Ah, a name long known to us!”
Erlang regretted that he had spoken out of turn. (IC: No, not necessarily.) He bid everyone farewell and took himself off.
Dongshan slept until dawn. He rose, washed, did his hair, stuffed his silver tightly into his money belt, and tied the belt around his waist. He slung his bow across his shoulders, put on his sword, and inserted twenty arrows into his boots. Then he picked a big, strong mule, leaped onto it, and, giving it the whip, rode off. About thirty to forty li later, he came to Liangxiang. At this point, a man on horseback came galloping up behind him. On drawing level with Dongshan’s mule, the man pulled on his reins and came to a halt. Dongshan saw that the rider was a handsome, well-dressed young man about twenty years old. Behold! He had
A yellow shirt, a felt hat,
A short sword, a long bow;
About twenty new arrows in his quiver,
Large red tassels on his horse’s head,
A glittering bejeweled belt around his waist.
He was a fair-complexioned gentleman.
With its master pulling the reins,
The mighty horse neighed in rage.
While Dongshan was looking him up and down, the young man shouted, “Why don’t we go together?” Then he saluted Dongshan with both hands clasped respectfully across his chest and continued, “Sorry for imposing myself on you like this. May I ask your honorable name?”
“My humble name is Liu Qin, but everyone calls me ‘Dongshan,’ my sobriquet.”
“Your famous name has long thundered in my ears! I’m really fortunate to be able to meet you. Now where are you headed, sir?”
“I’m going back to my native place—Jiaohe County.”
“What a coincidence!” exclaimed the young man. “I live in Linzi [present-day Zibo, Shandong]. I’m from a family of long standing. I began my schooling very early on, but later, in my fondness for archery and the martial arts, I gave up my studies. Three years ago, I took some money to Beijing to look for business opportunities and made some decent profits. It just so happens that I’m now on my way back home to get married. Why don’t we travel together since we’re heading in the same direction? I’ll feel safer that way. We can part ways when we get to the prefectural capital. May I have the honor?”
Impressed by the young man’s bulging money belt, polite speech, and refined appearance, Dongshan decided that he posed no danger, and he was of small build after all. Pleased to gain a companion to relieve the boredom of the journey along the way, Dongshan said, “I’ll be happy to travel with you.”
That very evening, they went to an inn and ate at the same table before retiring for the night. They got along so well that they might as well have been brothers.
The next day, they left Zhuzhou, riding abreast. From horseback, the young man asked, “I’ve long heard about your fame as a police chief. How many criminals have you arrested in your entire career? Have you run into anyone with skills worthy of yours?”
Dongshan had been itching to brag about his prowess. (IC: His vanity leads only to his humiliation.) This question was right up his alley. Taking the young man to be easy game, he said boastfully, “With my bare hands and my one bow, I’ve subdued more outlaws than I can count. I have yet to meet my match. I don’t even care to waste my breath on those small-time thugs. I gave up my profession only because I got tired of it now that I’ve reached middle age. Should we run into some such men along the way, I’ll show you what I’m made of.”
With an ever-so-slight hint of scorn in his smile (MC: An unfathomable smile.), the young man said, “I see!” Reaching a hand over to Dongshan, he asked, “May I have a look at your precious bow?”
From his saddle on the mule, Dongshan took the bow from his shoulders and handed it to the young man. The young man held it in his left hand and, giving it a little pluck, stretched it and the string into a full moon. He did it a few more times, each time as effortlessly as if playing with a soft silk ribbon. A flabbergasted Dongshan asked for a look at the young man’s bow. It weighed about twenty catties. Dongshan pulled at it but, for the life of him, could not even get it into the shape of a half moon, let alone a full one. His face red all the way to the very tips of his ears, he said in mortification, sticking out his tongue, “What a strong bow this is!” Turning to the young man, he said, “What divine power you have, my brother! This is far beyond what I’ve ever aspired to!”
“How can I make any claim to having divine power! It’s just that your bow, sir, is a little on the soft side.”
The young man responded to Dongshan’s repeated words of admiration with exaggerated modesty. That night, they again stayed together under the same roof.
The next day, they resumed their journey. At dusk, as they were passing Xiong County, the young man gave his horse a slap, and the horse raced ahead like a flying cloud. Dongshan looked out into the distance and realized that the young man was gone. Being an experienced police chief familiar with the ways of robbers, he felt a wave of panic. But then he said to himself, “My loss of face is a blessing in disguise, because if he’s not a decent sort, how would I have been his match? With his kind of divine strength, I would have been a dead man!” His heart pounding violently as if there were fifteen clanging buckets going up and down in the same well, he continued slowly on his way.
After he had covered about ten to twenty li, he saw that young man appear about a hundred paces ahead of him. His bow in the full-moon position, his arrow aimed at Dongshan, the young man said, “I’ve long heard that you’re matchless. Now please enjoy the swishing sound of my arrow!” Before the young man had quite finished speaking, Dongshan heard a whiz by his ear, as if a little bird had just flown by. (MC: A comic touch.) But he was not hurt. The young man reloaded his bow, stretched it again to the full-moon position, and, aiming the arrow straight at Dongshan’s face, he gave a peal of laughter and said, “Dongshan, you’re a sensible man, aren’t you? Now, take off your waistband and give me the money you got for your mules and horses, and don’t make a foolish move.”
Knowing he was no match for the young man, Dongshan panicked. He saw nothing for it but to dismount and take off his money belt. Then, with both hands holding the belt, he moved toward the young man on his knees and said with a kowtow, “Here’s the silver for you, mighty hero. But please spare my life.” (IC: How pathetic! How shameful!)
The young man on horseback picked up the belt and roared, “Why would I want your life? Get out of my sight! I have other things to attend to, so I’m not going to keep you company, my son!” (IC: This is hilarious!) So saying, he turned his horse around and galloped off in a northerly direction; in a trice, he vanished in a cloud of yellow dust.
Dongshan remained on his knees, stupefied. It was a long time before he stood up. Pounding his chest and stamping his feet, he said to himself, “The loss of the silver is not all that bad, but how am I going to hold my head up again? (IC: Said like a hero.) My good name of a lifetime has been ruined. It’s like the exorcist losing out to the ghost! This is outrageous!”
With his head sunk upon his chest, he listlessly continued with his journey home, empty-handed. When he arrived home, he told his wife about his experience, and she commiserated with him in his gloomy mood. They talked things over and decided to put together some money and open a village tavern to make a living, so that he would not have to pick up a bow ever again. Afraid that his recent adventure would become known and thus tarnish his name, he refrained from bringing it up to anyone and put the matter behind him. (IC: His name means everything to him. Pathetic!)
Three years passed. One wintry day, as attested to by a ci poem:
With frost-paved roof tiles and wind-blown fancy curtains,
Winter is here, earlier than usual.
The bright windows are fortified with nails;
The red gates are only slightly open;
Do not invite more guests than necessary.
With the sky darkened by clouds and snow,
Tuck the blue felt curtains tightly
And draw the red canopy closely around you.
(This is the first stanza of a poem to the tune of “Divine Fragrance.”)
To return to our story: That wintry day, Dongshan and his wife were tending to their business when eleven men on horseback came to their tavern, all riding big, strong horses with specially designed fancy saddles and caparisons. Each man wore a tight jacket with a bow, arrows, and a sword strapped to his middle. One by one, they dismounted, entered the tavern, and relieved the horses of the saddles and caparisons.
Liu Dongshan greeted them and led the horses to the trough, while a waiter went to cut hay and prepare fodder for the horses, but that is not part of our story.
One of the guests, an eight-span-tall fifteen- or sixteen-year-old, did not dismount. To the rest of the men, he announced, “I, the Eighteenth, will be staying the night at the inn right across from here.”
The men responded, “We’ll go over soon to wait on you.”
After the young man took himself off, the remaining ten men fell to drinking. The host served chicken, pork, beef, and mutton to go with the wine. They attacked the food like ravening wolves and tigers and, in the twinkling of an eye, packed away sixty to seventy catties of meat and downed six or seven jugs of wine. Then they ordered wine and food to be delivered to the young man in the inn across the street. After they had polished off everything Dongshan had to offer, they still clamored that they had room for more. So they opened their own leather bags and took out deer legs, pheasants, and roast rabbits, saying joyfully, “This is our treat. Let’s have our host join us!”
It was only after the usual obligatory words of demurral that Dongshan sat down at the table. As his eyes swept over the guests, he noticed a man who, sitting to his left on the northern side of the table, had his lowered head covered by his felt hat. But then the man suddenly raised his head. After taking a close look, Dongshan was shocked out of his senses and let out an inaudible groan. You may very well ask, who might that man be? Well, he was none other than the young man who had robbed Dongshan of his money in Xiong County. (MC: A misfortune can be a blessing in disguise.) Dongshan said to himself, “This time, I’m a real goner! With what little I have, he’s going to bleed me dry! What’s worse, I didn’t dare stand up against him last time when he was alone. And now, with so many of his men here and each as much of a warrior as he is, what am I going to do?” His heart pounding violently, he fixed his eyes on his wine cup without daring to let out a peep.
In the meantime, his customers stood up to urge wine on him. After a while, the young man seated to his left on the northern side of the table took off his felt hat and addressed him: “Dongshan! Have you been well since we parted last time? (MC: Funny.) I still remember fondly those days I spent traveling with you.”
Involuntarily, Dongshan fell to his knees, his face drained of all color, and said, “Please forgive me, mighty hero!” (IC: Poor thing.)
The young man leaped from his seat, dropped to his knees, and raised Dongshan up. Holding Dongshan’s hand, he said, “Don’t do this! Don’t do this! You’re embarrassing me! A few years ago, my brothers and I were at an inn at Shuncheng Gate when we heard you boast that your martial arts skills were unrivaled anywhere under the sun. They were outraged and told me to do the naughty thing I did to you while I was traveling with you. It was just for the fun of it. But I went back on our agreement that we part at Hejian. I still dream about riding abreast with you on the road. Out of gratitude for your kindness, I now give you something that’s worth ten times what I took from you.” So saying, he produced a thousand taels of silver and, putting the silver on the table, said to Dongshan, “Just take this as a gift from a long-absent friend. Please put it away. Come on!” (IC: In fact, he is doing this not out of any friendship formed during the journey but out of his appreciation for a like-minded respectable man.)
Dongshan froze as if in a trance. Afraid that this was another practical joke, he dared not respond. (IC: He is traumatized.) As he hesitated, the young man clapped his hands and said, “How could a man of honor like me play tricks on people? I thought you were a respectable man, Dongshan! Why are you so cowardly! Do you think my brothers and I would really stoop so low as to rob you of your money? Take the silver, and be quick about it!”
Convinced by the sincerity of the young man’s tone, Dongshan felt as if he were awakening from the dreams of a wine-induced sleep. Thinking it improper to decline the offer, he went to the living quarters of the tavern and brought his wife out. Together, they carried the silver to the interior of the house.
After the silver had been stored away, Dongshan and his wife consulted each other about what to do: “We mustn’t be disrespectful to such heroes. We owe them so much. We should slaughter more animals and bring out more wine, and we might as well keep them here for a few more days of fun.”
So Dongshan went out to thank the young man and told him about his plan. The young man, in turn, relayed the invitation to all the other men. They said, “Since he’s an old friend of yours by now, why not? But we do need to clear it with Eighteenth Brother.”
They went together across the street to speak with the youth. Dongshan followed them and was impressed by the men’s respectfulness to him and his graciousness toward them. After they told the boy that the host had asked them to stay for a few days of fun, the boy said, “Good. No harm in doing that. But remember not to oversleep after you’ve had your fill of wine and food, so as not to disappoint the master of the house. If anything untoward happens, the two swords hanging from my waist will be hungry for blood.”
“Yes, we understand that,” said the men. Dongshan was all the more confused.
The men returned to the tavern and fell to another round of hearty drinking. They then took wine over to the boy across the street but dared not stay on. Eighteenth Brother drank all by himself. The wine and meat to which he alone did justice equaled what had been consumed by five of the men. After Eighteenth Brother finished the meat, he took out a silver strainer from his bag, got a charcoal fire going, and made pancakes for himself. After finishing about a hundred of them, he cleaned things up and went outdoors with large strides, none knew whither.
He did not return until evening had fallen, and when he came back, he went directly to the inn across the street without paying a visit to Liu Dongshan’s house, where the rest of the men were eating and enjoying themselves. When they went across the street to visit him, Eighteenth Brother did not engage in any banter with them but remained haughtily aloof. Full of apprehension, Dongshan tugged furtively at the young man who had been his travel companion and asked, “What kind of person is Eighteenth Brother?”
Instead of answering his question, the young man repeated his question to the other men, and they all burst into peals of laughter. Without revealing Eighteenth Brother’s true identity, the young man intoned these lines at the top of his voice:
When willows turn green and peach blossoms bloom,
No one knows where the spring breezes blow.
With that, they burst out laughing again.
Three days later, the men were ready to take their leave. They packed their luggage and mounted the horses. With Eighteenth Brother leading the way, they quickly rode off. Dongshan still had not figured out what kind of people they were. Now that he was suddenly richer by a thousand taels of silver, he grew afraid of incurring other unpleasant incidents and moved into the city proper to pursue another line of business. (IC: Still haunted by his traumatic experience.) Later, when he told people about what had happened, someone with more insight said, “The two lines intoned seem to be hinting at ‘plum’ [李li], and the boy was called Eighteenth [十八Shiba] Brother. [十 and八make the upper radical木of 李.] My guess is that the boy’s surname is Li李 and he was their ringleader. Judging from what he told the other men, I believe he was warning against any trap that may have been set for them. And that’s why he stayed at a different place, so that they could watch out for each other. He didn’t keep the men company and ate separately from them for reasons of status. His outing during the night must have been for some wicked purpose, but we have no way of verifying that.”
Liu Dongshan, a hero up to that point in his life, henceforth dared not say another word about martial arts. He put away his bow, broke his arrows, and passed his days plying his trade and keeping to his station in life. Eventually, he died a peaceful natural death. It can thus be concluded that one must not brag about one’s own skills. He who does hasn’t yet met the real master. The following quatrain is about Liu Dongshan:
His bow and arrows served him well throughout his life
Until he met someone more than his equal.
Never boast about your skills in this human world;
Even the Hegemon King one day had to sing his sad songs.
A quatrain about the young man says,
Heroes have always been known for their largesse;
Bandits, when generous, are also worthy of praise.
Happily he gave a thousand taels for a hundred,
For he had made a good friend on the road.