A Past Unearthed

Book 0: Legends of the Condor Heroes

by Jin Yong

Genres: Asian American

Synopsis

THE CHINESE "LORD OF THE RINGS" - NOW IN ENGLISH FOR THE FIRST TIME.

THE SERIES EVERY CHINESE READER HAS BEEN ENJOYING FOR DECADES - 300 MILLION COPIES SOLD.

"Jin Yong's work, in the Chinese-speaking world, has a cultural currency roughly equal to that of "Harry Potter" and "Star Wars" combined" New Yorker

"If you haven't read Jin Yong's work, you haven't yet fully experienced the fantasy genre" FONDA LEE

CHINA , 1237 A.D.

Genghis Khan is dead. The Mongolians, led by the conqueror's third son, Ogedai, have vanquished the Jurchen Jin Empire, and now turn their armies on their ally the Great Song Empire. A dozen years have passed since the second Contest of Mount Hua.

A new generation of martial artists are vying for recognition in the jianghu, but as the fall of their country looms closer, the making of a hero depends on more than mere kung fu skills.

A chance meeting with his father's sworn brother Guo Jing lifts Penance Yang from a life of vagrancy and initiates him into the martial world to which his parents Yang Kang and Mercy Mu once belonged.

Placed under the care of the Quanzhen Sect at their base in the Zhongnan Mountains, Penance stumbles across the mysterious history behind the founding of this most respected martial school and embarks on a journey during that forces him to come to terms with his family's past as well as secrets of his own heart.

Translated from the Chinese by Gigi Chang

Release date: October 12, 2023

Publisher: Quercus Publishing

Print pages: 432

Sample

“Leaning over the autumnal water, the Yue maiden picks a lotus flower,

From the tapered sleeves of light silk,

A pair of golden bangles peek.

She catches her reflection, glorious like the blossoms she gathers,

She plucks a sprig, strands from the stem linger and stir like her heartstrings.

Ripples lapping the bank in the evening breeze,

The thickening fog, the drifting haze,

She cannot see the companions she has set out with.

The murmur of song fades as the scull makes for land,

The sorrow of parting draws towards the Southern shores.”

MELODIOUS SINGING FLOATED ACROSS THE MISTY WATER. A group of girls tittered and chattered on a small boat as they hummed Ouyang Xiu’s famous lyrics to the tune of “Butterflies Adore Flowers”. They too had been collecting lotus blooms and their seedpods and were now making their way home in the retreating sun.

With the approach of Moon Festival, the air no longer burned with the fire of summer. Its cooler touch was beginning to dress the South Lake of Jiaxing in the cloak of autumn, filling out the lotus’s fruits and curling the broad lotus leaves layered over the water surface.

The frolicking reached the ears of a Taoist nun standing amid a row of weeping willows lining the lakeside. She had been there for some time, gazing at the watery expanse. The gentle wind of even-tide tugged at the hem of her apricot-yellow habit and caressed the long hair of the horsetail whisk tucked into the back of her collar. The horsehair fluttered along with her heart, mirroring the words sung:

Strands from the stem linger and stir like her heartstrings.

Snatches of song continued to ride on the breeze, seeking out the ears of those on land.

“The wind hard-hearted, the moon cruel,

People, in the gloom, have changed.

Revisiting places of old, all is but a dream,

And, for naught, the wrenching in the gut remains . . .”

The forlorn words were chased away by giggles.

“What’s there to laugh about?” the Taoist muttered to herself. “Little girls can’t possibly comprehend the bitter sorrow captured by Ouyang Xiu.”

Holding up her left hand, she was mesmerised by the blood glistening on her palm. A sigh poured out of her chest.

She was not the only one watching. A dozen zhang away, a bearded man lurked among the vegetation not far from the water-side. His hushed presence was betrayed by a gasp stirred up by the second song.

*

A ROWBOAT, carrying five young women, emerged from the rippling lotus leaves and glided across a lake as smooth as a sheet of glass. The older girls, around fifteen and sixteen, sang as they propelled their vessel forward, while the two younger passengers, both aged nine, chatted between themselves.

“Cousin, look.” Cheng Ying pointed towards the rows of willows by the shore.

“The old crank’s still sitting in the same spot!” Lu Wushuang was amazed.

“The uncle will be upset if he hears—”

“I’m right, though!” Lu Wushuang cut her maternal cousin short. “Who wears a bib like a baby at his grand age? I’d love to see him so provoked that his beard bristles!” She then picked up a lotus pod from the deck and hurled it at the man.

“Cousin, no!”

Their skiff was still a good few zhang from the bank, but Lu Wushuang’s aim and strength were admirable for her age. The seed head flew straight at the man’s face. He tilted his chin up, opened his mouth wide and caught the fist-sized capsule between his teeth. Then, he started to chew and swallowed the fruit whole – including the inedible cup and shell that protected the seeds.

The girls exchanged a look of shocked amusement and burst into giggles. They steered the boat over, hopped ashore and approached the strange man together.

This was the first time they set eyes on him up close. His glossy black hair and beard, wild and unkempt, stuck out like porcupine quills. His features were divided by deep grooves and wrinkles, giving him the appearance of an ancient in his seventies or eighties. A plain robe, indigo in hue, flowed down to his ankles, obscuring his build, and around his neck was fastened a piece of silk that would have been worn by an infant to keep their clothes clean at mealtimes. The tattered fabric was embroidered with the pattern of a cat chasing after butterflies, an auspicious motif symbolising longevity.

Cheng Ying went up to the seated man and tugged at his robe to get his attention. She took a lotus pod from her bag and broke the capsule into two. After that, she picked out a dozen seeds or so, peeled the green casing and pulled out the bitter germ in the core before offering the little ivory-coloured balls to the man.

“Uncle, it tastes better this way.”

He grabbed a handful of seeds and tossed them into his mouth. A subtle, fragrant sweetness spread on his tongue, neutralising the harsh acridity left by his indiscriminate gobbling moments ago. He gave the kind-hearted girl a nod and a grin, snatched what remained and chomped them down with relish.

When he was sated, he sprang up, roared into the sky – “Follow me!” – and sprinted into a clump of mulberry trees.

“Let’s go after him!” Lu Wushuang seized Cheng Ying’s hand and pulled the reluctant girl along.

“Your mother will scold you for this!” one of their older friends warned.

Lu Wushuang pulled a face, flung away her cousin’s hand and took off on her own.

Cheng Ying hurried after her little cousin. Being six months older and less impetuous in nature, she could not leave Lu Wushuang chasing a stranger while she headed home by herself.

The three teenagers, disturbed by the man’s peculiar behaviour, called on their young playfellows to turn back, but they did not give pursuit, for it was deemed inappropriate for maidens of their age to be found in the company of grown men who were not their closest kin.

Lu Wushuang and Cheng Ying ran after the old man, but how could their short legs catch up with the wide strides of an adult male? The man stopped several times to wait for his young acquaintances, but he soon grew impatient. He scooped up a girl in each arm, tucked them under his armpits and sped away.

Now the air whooshed by and the undergrowth whipped past. Panic seized Lu Wushuang and she shrieked, “Let me down! Let me down!”

The man responded by racing faster. Lu Wushuang twisted round and bit him on the arm, but his muscles were so tough they made her teeth ache. She returned to screaming and shouting once more.

Suddenly, the man came to a halt and set the girls down.

Cheng Ying took one look at the surroundings and the blood drained from her cheeks. Burial mounds, all around. She had braved the journey without making a sound, but the quaver in her voice right now revealed her nerves. “Uncle, it’s time for us to go home.”

The man scrutinised her, saying nothing.

Cheng Ying thought she could recognise sadness, self-pity and hurt in his gaze. Feeling sorry for him, she suggested timidly, “If you’re lonely, come to the lakeside tomorrow. We’ll peel more lotus seeds for you.”

The man looked away and sighed wearily. “Ten years! It’s been ten years!”

A heartbeat later, his focus returned, and he pinned the girl with a feral glare. “Where is He Yuanjun? Where is she?”

“I – I don’t know who—”

The man grabbed Cheng Ying by the arms and shook her, barking the same question over and over.

Tears pooled in the girl’s eyes, but she tried to blink them back, along with her fear.

“Go on! Cry! Let those tears fall!” he hissed through closed teeth. “You were exactly like this ten years ago . . .

“I won’t let you marry him. I refuse. You say you don’t want to part from me. You say you’re grateful for everything I’ve done for you. You say you’ll be heartbroken to leave me. But you must go with him.

“Pah! Lies, hogwash, each and every word! If you really are that heartbroken, why don’t these tears fall?”

Ashy pale, Cheng Ying bit her lip to stop herself from flinching, while a voice inside urged: Don’t! Don’t cry! Don’t let those tears fall.

“You won’t spare a drop for me!” he yelled, still jolting the girl back and forth. “Not a single tear! What’s the point in going on living?”

Abruptly, he let go, bent from the waist and rammed head first into the closest tombstone. Thump! He crumpled to the ground. Blood cascaded down his face.

“Run!” Lu Wushuang grabbed her cousin’s hand and bolted, but the older girl dug her heels in after a few steps.

“We should check on him.” Cheng Ying’s conscience would not allow her to leave the stranger to bleed out in the wild.

“If he’s dead, will he turn into a ghost?”

Lu Wushuang’s words sent a chill through Cheng Ying. She would rather not encounter the uncanny, and had no wish to be manhandled and subjected to crazed jabberings again.

“I’m not scared. He’s not a ghost. He won’t hurt me.” Cheng Ying mumbled under her breath as she trod tentatively back. At the sight of the man’s bloodstained face, she overcame her fears. “Uncle . . .”

He answered with a groan.

Feeling bolder, Cheng Ying crouched down and pressed her handkerchief over his bloody wound. The fabric was soaked through presently, but she stilled her trembling hand and maintained force over the gash until the bleeding stopped.

“Why do you help me?” The man forced his heavy eyelids apart. “Why won’t you let me die?”

“Does it hurt?” Cheng Ying asked softly, relieved that the man had regained consciousness.

Sighing, he said, “Not in the head, but in the heart.”

That was not a response a nine-year-old could comprehend.

How can such a nasty cut not hurt? Cheng Ying wondered as she untied the cloth belt around her waist and used it to bandage his head.

“Never to meet again. Is that what you’ve decided?” The man exhaled. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you? So, this is how we’re going to part. You really won’t shed a tear for me?”

Blood had stained the wrinkles on the man’s face, but his despondent tone and pleading eyes made him less terrifying.

A dull ache swelled in Cheng Ying’s heart and two streams of tears glistened on her cheeks.

The man’s features lit up with joy when he saw the girl weeping, but the next instant, his expression was darkened by anguish, and – wah! – he broke into sobs.

Teardrops were now rolling rapidly down Cheng Ying’s face, like pearls slipping off a broken string. She threw her arms around his neck.

Lu Wushuang was baffled by this emotional display. An irresistible urge to laugh rose from her belly and she hooted in merriment.

“Why are you in such good cheer?” The man dried his eyes and addressed the heavens. “ ‘I’ll never leave you.’ Those words were on your lips all the time. Then you grew up and you forgot everything you’d said. The only thing on your mind is your new friend, that pasty-faced popinjay.” He turned back to Cheng Ying, studying her features. “Yes! Yes! You are Ah Yuan! My little Ah Yuan! You can’t leave me – I won’t allow it. I won’t let you go off with that white-faced swine!”

The agitated man clasped Cheng Ying in his arms, as though afraid she would abandon him there and then.

Lu Wushuang quietened down. The last thing she wanted was to draw further attention to herself.

“Ah Yuan, I’ve finally found you!” the man went on. “Let’s go home. You’ll stay with Papa always, won’t you?”

“Uncle, my papa died a long time ago,” Cheng Ying said in a low voice.

“I know. I’m your adopted father. Don’t you remember?”

Cheng Ying shook her head. “Uncle, I’ve never—”

The man howled and shoved the girl roughly. “Ah Yuan, why do you deny our bond?”

“I’m not Ah Yuan, Uncle. My name is Cheng Ying.”

“You’re not . . . Ah Yuan was your age . . . twenty years ago. She’s all grown up now. She doesn’t want her papa anymore. There’s only room in her heart for one person – that scoundrel Lu Zhanyuan!”

Lu Wushuang gasped audibly.

“You know him, don’t you?” The man loomed over her with a scowl.

Lu Wushuang smiled, trying hard to appear undaunted. “He’s my uncle. Papa’s big brother.”

“Where is the bastard?” The man seized her by the arm. “Take me to him! Now!”

“He’s not far from here.” Lu Wushuang forced out a laugh but could not mask the tremor in her voice.

He let go and spoke in a friendlier tone: “Take me to him, little girl!” Then he mumbled to himself, “I’ve looked everywhere. Three whole days. All over Jiaxing. At last, I’ve found you, Lu Zhanyuan. I’ve come to settle our account!”

Disturbed by his words, Lu Wushuang rubbed her sore arms and answered back defiantly. “You hurt me! And I . . . I can’t remember where my uncle is.”

Rage distorted the man’s face, but he recalled in the heat of the moment that she was a mere child and arranged his features into an unsightly smile.

“Grandpa was bad and he apologises to you,” he cooed as he reached into the inside pocket of his robe. “Grandpa has a sweetie for you.”

And yet the hand stayed within the folds of his clothes.

“You lie! You haven’t got any sweets!”

The man’s countenance turned savage again.

“He’s over there.” Lu Wushuang pointed out two towering scholar trees some distance away. The next thing she knew, she had been scooped up again and tucked under the man’s arm, with her cousin secured under the other.

The man ran straight for the trees, barging through shrubs and leaping over any streams that stood in his way.

*

TWO BURIAL mounds lay side by side under the verdant canopy. Knee-high vegetation hinted at the age of the memorials.

The man set the girls down, his eyes fixed on one of the headstones.

Here lies Master Lu Zhanyuan

“When did he die?” he demanded.

“Three years ago,” Lu Wushuang replied.

“Wonderful!” The man broke into a cruel smile. “Too bad I wasn’t there to slay the cur myself.” He threw his head back and let out a mirthless cackle. His laughter, steeped in anguish and woe, travelled far into the last light of the day, through the thin mist that had begun to shroud the brushwood.

Lu Wushuang tugged her cousin’s sleeve and whispered, “Let’s run home.”

“The pasty-face is dead. What is Ah Yuan still doing out here?” the man asked himself out loud. “I’ll take her back to Dali. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Little girl, take me to the wife of your dead uncle.”

“Can’t you read?” Lu Wushuang gestured at the other tombstone.

Here lies Madam He of the Lu Clan

“There’s my auntie,” she added.

“What? No! You’re lying!”

“Papa said Auntie died not long after Uncle’s death. I – that’s all I know.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” The man wailed and roared and beat his chest. “You can’t be dead. You can’t be. I told you I’d come for you in ten years. You can’t die before we meet again. Why – why didn’t you wait for me?”

He howled and stomped like a tiger provoked, swiping his foot into the closest scholar tree. The trunk creaked and groaned; the leaves shook and rustled.

The girls retreated as far away as possible, squeezing each other’s hand for comfort. They watched with shock as the man clamped his arms around the tree trunk, yelling and shouting, trying to pluck it from the ground.

“You promised! Have you forgotten? You said we’d see each other once more. Why did you break your word?”

The man’s voice cracked and grew more hoarse with each word he bellowed. He squatted lower and summoned his inner strength. Vapour rose from the crown of his head like a steamer on the boil. The muscles in his arms bulged from strain. He tucked in his chest and tensed his back.

“Up!”

The tree snapped in half with a mighty crack, but the roots remained tangled deep underground.

“She’s gone . . .” he muttered, still clutching the broken tree trunk.

“Gone!” He tossed the load away.

The leafy crown, like an unfurled umbrella, sailed through the air.

The man’s attention was drawn to the monuments once more. He read out the characters chiselled on the stone. “Here lies Madam He of the Lu Clan . . . That’s Ah Yuan . . .”

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.

“Ah Yuan!”

He hailed his smiling, bright-eyed daughter, who was standing where her headstone had been. Then he noticed the strapping, handsome youth next to her, so close that his shoulder was touching hers.

“I’ll kill you! You seduced my daughter!”

He lunged at the young man with his forefinger extended. A lethal jab aimed at a vital point in his chest.

Bone-crushing pain shot down his hand. The blow had landed on the tombstone.

“You can’t run!” he shrieked, following up with two consecutive palm thrusts.

Thump, thump! Twice in a row, he struck the stone slab, but in his maddened rage he was undeterred. Each missed attempt fanned the flames of his wrath higher, riling him into channelling more and more of his neigong power.

A dozen strokes later, the memorial was covered with blood.

“Stop, Uncle!” Cheng Ying cried. “You’re hurting yourself !”

“I’m fine! Let me kill the rat first!” He cackled wildly. “Die, Lu Zhanyuan!”

He grew hushed all of a sudden, staring blankly ahead.

“I’ve come all the way to see you. Let me see you. I have to see you!”

As these words poured from the man’s lips, he plunged his fingers into the earthen mound under which Madam He lay in eternal rest. Like two shovels, his hands dug into the soil again and again, scooping out clump after clump.

LU WUSHUANG AND CHENG YING BOLTED AS FAST AS THEIR legs would carry them, but they lost their way in the deepening gloom and had to ask for directions home. It was pitch-black by the time they entered the Lu family manor.

“Pa! Ma! A madman is digging up Uncle and Auntie!” Lu Wushuang shouted as she sprinted into the main hall.

But her father, Lu Liding, did not seem to have heard her. He sat with his back to the doors, his attention held by something on the far wall.

The girls followed his gaze.

Nine handprints on the whitewashed surface, arranged in three neat rows. Two at the top, two directly below and five on the bottom. Blood red in colour.

Lu Liding turned to his daughter, sounding distracted. “What did you say?”

“A madman is digging Uncle and Auntie’s grave!”

“What? No!” He shot to his feet.

“Uncle, it’s true.” Cheng Ying confirmed her cousin’s words.

Lu Liding looked between his daughter and his niece. He would not put it past his impish child to come up with such a tasteless prank, but the orphan of his wife’s sister would never have agreed to play along. Something within urged him to take the children at their word.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

Lu Wushuang, giddy and giggly, recounted their adventure, but her father grabbed his sabre and rushed out long before she had reached the end. Lu Liding hotfooted it all the way to his brother and sister-in-law’s burial site. Though he was primed for the worst, the sight of the desecrated and defiled memorials left him shaken to the core.

Both coffins had been pulled out of the ground, their lids prised open. Lu Liding braced himself to look inside. The remains were gone. Clumps of lime, torn scraps of paper, cotton paddings and other materials used to dress and embalm the bodies had been tossed everywhere. He forced his racing spirits to slow down and examined the caskets. The timber bore many scars, rough and deep.

Shock, rage and grief rushed to his head. Who could hold such grievances against his brother and sister-in-law? What kind of animus had fuelled this unspeakable act? There was nothing more abhorrent under the heavens than to have one’s final resting place violated.

Lu Liding regretted not asking his daughter more about the culprit. He drew his sabre from its scabbard, eager to bring the offender to justice, but he had no idea how to study the surroundings for clues as to his whereabouts. He had been trained in the martial arts by his late elder brother, but he had never put his skills into practice. He was well provided for by his affluent family and comfortable with his lot – as such, he had never had any desire to venture in the jianghu to find fame or fortune. With nothing to guide his search, he circled the area but did not come across anything or anyone out of the ordinary. Before long, he was standing at the burial site again, unsure what he should do next.

Eventually Lu Liding found himself back at home, sitting in the same chair in the main hall. Once more, he was transfixed by the nine gory handprints. His brother’s final biddings came to mind.

Big Brother said he had an enemy, Lu Liding reminded himself. A Taoist nun called Blithe Li the Red Serpent Celestial – savage, ruthless and a supreme master of the martial arts. Brother believed this woman would seek retribution from him and Sister in the tenth year of their union.

If he closed his eyes, Lu Liding could hear his brother’s voice again.

“I’m not going to get better. Promise me, you will make sure your sister-in-law takes herself far, far away from here, three years from now.”

He remembered his tearful pledge and the shocking news that followed: his sister-in-law had committed suicide the night her husband succumbed to his illness, so she could keep him company in the netherworld.

And this is the year the Taoist nun had been expected to come for her revenge. Lu Liding began to make connections between the day’s events. But when Brother and Sister departed this world, any such grievances should have died with them. What does the woman hope to gain by coming here?

He eyed the blood-red marks on the wall, and another memory surged to the forefront of his flustered mind.

Brother said the Taoist nun likes to leave bloody handprints on the wall or door of the houses of her victims as a sign of the carnage to come. Each print stands for one life that will be taken.

She made nine marks here, but there are only seven of us, and that includes the servants. Maybe she didn’t know about the passing of my brother and sister when she first got here? That must be why she sent someone to steal their remains . . . Such a black-hearted she-demon!

Wait, when did she leave the marks? I was in the house all day – until just now! How could she have come and gone without anyone noticing?

Lu Liding shuddered at the possible answers. In that moment, the shuffle of footsteps sounded from behind. Two hands, small and soft, shielded his eyes.

“Guess who, Papa?”

Lu Wushuang was three years old when she first played this game with her parents. They responded with such effusive laughter that, afterwards, whenever she sensed that they were in low spirits, she would cheer them up this way, without fail.

But, today, her father brushed her away. “Papa’s busy. Go play in the rear courtyard.”

Lu Wushuang pursed her lips. Rarely had she been dismissed so offhandedly by her doting parents. She readied herself to bid for her father’s attention.

A manservant entered before she could work her charms. “Master, we have visitors.”

“I’m not at home.”

“They are travellers seeking shelter for the night. She did not ask for an audience.”

“She, did you say?”

“Yes, a mother with two boys.”

“Not a Taoist nun?”

“No. They appear to be from an honourable household. Their clothes are clean and well presented.”

“Very well. Take her to the guest quarters and bring them supper.”

“Yes, Master.”

After the servant left to carry out his orders, Lu Wushuang jumped to her feet and raced into the courtyard. “Papa, I’ll go greet them!”

Lu Liding was left on his own again. He knew he ought to speak to his wife about the imminent threat . . . When at last he hauled himself out of his seat, Mistress Lu had already entered the main hall. He led her to the wall with the handprints and told her what he knew.

Mistress Lu listened with a frown, then asked her husband, “Where should we send the children?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed, gesturing at the wall. “The girls are marked too. It won’t be easy finding refuge.”

“There are only seven of us in this house. Why nine . . . ?” Mistress Lu felt her strength deserting her as tears welled up in her eyes.

Lu Liding put his arm around her shoulders. “I think those two at the top are for Brother and Sister-in-law. Those below, I assume, are for us. The five prints at the bottom must be for Wushuang and Ying – and the servants. Who can say what terrible things happened that she should wish to demean Brother’s remains and spill the blood of every one of us? Brother never told me.”

“You think she sent the madman?”

“Yes. Who else?”

Noticing the sweat and grime on her husband’s face, Mistress Lu said, “Go and change out of these dirty clothes. We will brave what comes next together.”

“It is unlikely that we will escape unscathed tonight,” Lu Liding said as they walked back to their rooms. “But we will live and die preserving Brother and Sister’s good name.”

Mistress Lu mumbled in agreement, though her heart ached at the thought of their doomed fate. She had practised kung fu with her husband for many years, but they had never been a part of the wider martial world. Still, she was aware of the honour and esteem her brother-and sister-in-law, Lu Zhanyuan and He Yuanjun, had commanded in the jianghu and the glory they had brought to Lu Manor. She understood that it fell now to herself and her husband to live up to their deeds and preserve the family’s reputation.

*

LU LIDING and Mistress Lu had just stepped into the rear courtyard when they heard a tile crack overhead. Lu pulled his wife behind him and looked up to see a boy sitting atop the courtyard wall. He was stretching his arms out, trying to reach a tendril of trumpet-vine blossoms that extended from the perimeter fortifications.

“Careful!” “Watch out!” A chorus of warnings sounded from below.

Lu Liding now noticed his daughter Lu Wushuang and his niece Cheng Ying crouching with another boy in the greenery.

Were they the traveller’s sons? He was not impressed by their antics.

“Give it to me! I want it!” Lu Wushuang shouted when the boy at last managed to pluck the stems he was reaching for.

The lad flashed a smile then threw it to Cheng Ying. The girl caught the sprig and offered it to her cousin, but Lu Wushuang was not pleased. She snatched the flowers, tossed them to the ground and stamped the orange-red petals into a darkened mess.

Lu Liding and his wife stopped for a while to watch the children – carefree and oblivious of the bloodshed to come – before going into their rooms with a sigh.

“Cousin . . .” Cheng Ying eyed the trampled branch.

Lu Wushuang scrunched up her nose. “I don’t want his flowers. I’ll get some for myself !”

With a tap of one foot, she hopped up and grabbed a robust vine of wisteria hanging from a trellis above, which allowed her to pull herself an extra few chi higher to seize a nearby osmanthus bough with both hands.

The boy on the wall clapped and cheered at her athletic display.

“Jump over here!” he beckoned.

Cocky and competitive, Lu Wushuang could not ignore the fact that he had snubbed her and given the flowers to her cousin. She was determined to show him that she was capable of plucking a sprig of her choice. She flexed her core, swinging back and forth to build up momentum, then let go of the branch and launched herself into the air, flying towards the top of the wall.

“Grab my hand!” The boy flung his arm out.

“Out of my way!”

She twisted sideways, imitating the manner in which she had seen her father change direction mid-air. But this lightness qinggong move was too advanced even for her mother – what chance did a nine-year-old novice to the martial arts have?

“Aiyooo!”

If Lu Wushuang had stayed on her original course, she would have gained a fingerhold on the tiles at the very top of the wall, but her airborne manoeuvre had robbed her of momentum and there was nothing she could seize onto now to break her fall.

She plunged. From a height of more than one zhang.

The boy in the undergrowth threw himself forward and caught the falling girl. But her left leg still hit the ground and the bone snapped with a sickening crunch. The mighty force of her descent knocked the boy off his feet. He smacked his head on a rock and blood poured down his face. Pressing a hand to the wound, he pushed himself up woozily.

Cheng Ying, meanwhile, had shifted her cousin, who had fainted from the traumatic fall, into a more comfortable position and called for help.

Lu Liding and Mistress Lu rushed out when they heard the commotion. At the same time, a middle-aged woman hurried from a chamber on the western side of the courtyard, and it was she who reached the children first. Without asking any questions, she lifted Lu Wushuang from Cheng Ying’s arms and carried the injured girl to the main hall. She set her down and tapped two acupoints on her broken leg to dull the pain – White Ocean on the inside thigh and Bend Middle on the back of the knee. Then she felt around the fracture and began to reset the bone.

Lu Liding watched her assured pressure-point locking technique with alarm, noting also the sword attached to her belt. He had been told she was a mother travelling with her sons. How come she was so proficient in the martial arts? Not to mentioned armed.

“Who are you? Why did you come to my