Finding The Way Read online

  With those words I stopped struggling, and Shun released his grip, though I hung onto my rock.

  The barbarians circled Father as though he were captured prey, taunting him with the things they were going to do to Mother. Father picked up a long wooden spade and tried to hold them off. They laughed as he hobbled on his one leg. But he surprised them by swiftly taking the offensive, wielding the spade like a warrior’s halberd. He even managed to knock two of them off their mounts before a barbarian cracked a whip, wrapping it around Father’s leg. One barbarian who’d been knocked down rushed toward Father and pinned his arms while another with a shaved head drew his dagger. The hairless man bent down over Father and slit his throat. I was about to scream when Shun covered my mouth again. The sweet smell of Shun’s plum-stained hands could not mask the bitterness of that moment.

  My mother was then dragged into the yard. She cried and begged for mercy, pleading that she was with child. They laughed at her then took turns mounting her before wedging a dagger through her stomach. I almost choked on my own vomit until Shun realized what was happening and released me. Afterwards I collapsed onto the ground, completely stunned.

  When the barbarians finally left, we ran to my parents. I stared motionless at their bodies. Then I screamed at Shun for not having released me when we could have saved our family.

  “Coward!” I yelled. “You had us hiding like mice!”

  I slapped him in the face and flailed at him until he held my hands. When I was worn out and reduced to quiet sobs, he released me.

  “Your father didn’t return home to have you join him in death,” Shun said quietly. “Nor would your mother have wanted to see you die at the hands of those savages. The time to mourn is when you have nothing left to live for. If there had been more of us I wouldn’t have hesitated to teach them a lesson. But alone we would have been slaughtered too.”

  Shun was correct. To grieve was a luxury one never had in times such as those. The unstated edict was that thinking of ill things was to re-live them. I suppose it is no different today. And so I had to swallow that which ailed me. We all had to. My parents were gone. My father, whom I’d known so briefly yet had become my very soul, had been ripped out of my life.

  The barbarians had robbed all the nearby farms, burnt whatever lay in their path, taken some of the young women, and also some of the young men to raise as barbarians or slaves. Everyone else they killed, including Gao La and Gong. If the Warlord hadn’t conscripted so many of the able-bodied men, our village and the neighboring farms may have been able to protect themselves. If the Warlord had been a man who led without regard for power and dominance, the outcome might have been different; my mother may have been spared, my father might have witnessed my ascension. As a young man for whom moral and intellectual inquiry was encouraged, violence, war and power all seemed pointless and profoundly depraved.

  I was twelve and expected to remain with my surviving clan members to work our plot of land, hoping the barbarians might not return. Or I could have remained and waited to be conscripted into the Warlord’s army or whatever rag-tag army passed through. But my aunt would not have it. She sent me away along with Shun to her brother, my uncle, in a safer region of Qin. I said my goodbyes, not knowing they would be final.

  3

  Bitten Peach

  Our journey exposed us to scenes of violence, human suffering and tragedies not unlike what we had just left. We hurried through abandoned farms and villages still smoldering from attacks by barbarians or bandits, or from fighting among warlords. We stumbled over the putrid carcasses of soldiers and marauders, as well as of farmers and wanderers like ourselves. But we also found lavish homes protected by high walls and whole armies. These we avoided, knowing that Shun was old enough to be conscripted and that I would be taken on as a laborer. One late afternoon as I gathered kindling near the top of a heavily-wooded hill, I saw two soldiers on patrol creeping towards our campsite. I quickly ducked. I could see that the lead soldier was not much older than Shun, but taller and wiry. The other was older with some heft, but also a confidence in his movements. I became as still as I could as they approached. I scanned about for Shun and whispered his name but he was not to be seen.

  “I told you there was someone out here,” one of the soldiers said.

  “I hope you’re right this time. The captain has doubled the reward for every new body we find who can wield a weapon.”

  “Triple if they’re young and strong.”

  “They’d have to be dumb as you.”

  “Shhh, over there…” They looked in my direction. I stepped back, snapping twigs as I did so.

  “Ahh, a young ’un. Perfect. And where there’s one, there’s another.”

  They quickly moved towards me. I dropped my kindling and broke a branch from a low hanging birch. The younger soldier was almost upon me and I slashed away at him. He chuckled.

  “Beware, a great warrior is before us.” He flashed a small bronze sword and chuckled some more. “What are we to do?”

  “Stop,” I yelled. “You have foolishly stumbled upon the encampment of wild renegades who will relish in seeing your heads roll!”

  My misdirection caused the soldier to hesitate. But then the other soldier scolded him.

  “He’s talking shit, you moron. Just tie him up and let’s be done here. We’ll come back for any others after we’ve eaten. I’m hungry.”

  The soldier stepped closer and raised his blade at my neck. Without warning something flew out of nowhere and hit the soldier on the head, dropping him instantly. He lay motionless. The other soldier drew a bronze sword as long as my forearm and reached for me. Another rock flew over and hit the back of his hand. He cried out and dropped his blade. As he fell to his knees, another rock just missed his head. He curled himself into a ball and begged for mercy.

  Shun jumped out from behind a bush no more than ten arms’ length away. His hunting slingshot was fully cocked with a jagged rock sitting snugly in the pouch. He aimed it directly at the soldier’s head.

  “Move again and you die,” he said. Then to me: “Grab the sword.”

  At first I could only stare at Shun and at the man whimpering in pain.

  “I tracked these vermin for half a li,” Shun declared.

  As Shun looked at me with determined ferocity, I retrieved the short sword. “No, get both. Give me the larger.”

  Shun nodded me away and raised his weapon above the fallen soldier.

  No, Shun,” I said. “We’re not barbarians.”

  He relented, but not before telling the soldier that our entire clan was in this area and were heavily armed, and should he return, he would be killed before he knew what had happened. The soldier thanked Shun, who then made him crawl backwards over the edge of the hill. We could hear him fall, followed by much moaning and cursing.

  Shun fingered the soldier’s dropped sword with interest. “We can use this,” he said.

  He stabbed the air, and then lunged towards the first soldier, still lying motionless, stopping just short of stabbing him. I stared at Shun, surprised to discover this side of him.

  “Wild renegades?” Shun asked. “Quite an imagination there, cousin.”

  I shrugged, but secretly basked in Shun’s compliment.

  “It was clever and bought a few seconds while I readied my sling.”

  Shun tied his new weapon to his waist. “Let’s move on. Others will soon follow.”

  ******

  It was not that the world was lawless; it was that there were too many laws among too many dominions, and too much authority. Each territory was further fragmented into distinct regions, each with its own rigid order, its own warlord whose fickle loyalties went to whomever was offering the most opportunity or greatest protection at the time. In essence, there was too much control and too little understanding.

  There was one day that
remains distinct in my memory. As we rested by a fast-moving river to fill our water jugs, I witnessed a small boy, perhaps no more than five, fall into the rushing waters. He cried out for help as his family looked on in horror, unable to reach him. Shun, who had spent many hours diving for crayfish, untied his sword.

  “No, Shun.” I tried to hold him back. “You’ll be swept away.”

  “I’ll be fine, trust me.”

  He immediately jumped in, made his way over to the boy and grabbed him. But together they appeared trapped in the relentless turbulence, unable to escape the current. They sank and we lost sight of them. Stunned by this sudden turn of events, I ran along the river’s edge, calling out for Shun. I found him emerging further downstream, carrying a coughing but unharmed boy out of the water onto the riverbank.

  After Shun accepted the profuse gratitude of the parents, I berated him for being foolhardy but also stood in awe of him.

  “But it wasn’t foolish. That family certainly didn’t think so.” He wiped at my cheeks. Only then did I realize I was in tears. “Did I not say to trust me?”

  I asked him how he had managed to battle the current and save himself and the boy. He looked at me with his warm, chestnut-colored eyes as though I were a simpleton.

  “It was easy,” he shrugged. “Why would I battle the impossible? No man is stronger than that river.”

  I was an imbecile. He had of course known enough to have the river do his bidding. Instead of trying to conquer the river, he had followed its path. Here was my cousin Shun, not yet a grown man and in no way destined to be a scholar, yet he was already immensely knowledgeable about the world. He understood, as did my father, that stillness is often the best option and that following Nature’s course is the best guide.

  I am here today because Shun took to living hand to mouth and moment to moment as easily as I took to contemplation. He understood which insects were edible, which berries were poisonous and which roots were most flavorful. He ensnared small animals and caught the most elusive fish with ease. He could feel the ground rumble from distant horses and hear hostile whispers many li away. In essence, he brought a natural elegance to anything requiring manual dexterity and simple subsistence. Yet somehow my cousin also had the guile of a thief and the sensibility and compassion of an elder.

  He tried to teach me many of these skills. While I lacked the ease with which he applied himself, I did learn how to handle a slingshot and set warning triggers. Several times we crossed paths with other travelers or farmers who needed a literate person’s eyes in exchange for food or shelter, so I wasn’t completely useless. But we both knew I slowed him down. If we wanted to eat, he would have to be responsible for hunting, gathering and scouting.

  After many weeks we found my third Uncle’s farm in what is now Wu territory. A farmhand took us to a shady spot beneath a tree where Uncle was sleeping. The farmhand, who turned out to be our cousin, shook my snoring Uncle awake.

  “My sister’s boy, you say?” he said. “Which sister? How do I know you are telling me the truth?”

  He was an uncomplicated man with languorous eyes and a wide gap in his teeth that he used to push his tongue through whenever he was thinking. A heavily soiled bandana was wrapped around his forehead, holding down wisps of shambled hair on an otherwise bare head. He jabbed one’s chest as he spoke slowly but incessantly about all manner of things, although his accent made it difficult to follow. When he saw Shun’s sword, his eyes lit up and he whistled.

  “You’d best leave that with me,” he said. “Carrying a weapon like that will get you in trouble.”

  Shun held his sword behind him and stood firm. “Thank you for your concern Uncle, but I’m keeping it.”

  Their eyes locked briefly. Uncle was about to speak when I offered my sword to him and the rest of our few possessions. He quickly went through them, finding only some clothing, wild yams and some tools for fire-making and cutting. Uncle sighed in disappointment and looked at us.

  “Pretty scrawny,” he said, inspecting my physique. “You are soft. Your mother likely spoiled you. Why should I take you in?”

  “We traveled far to be with you, Uncle,” Shun said.

  “From Chu, you say?” Uncle looked at us warily. “That is far away. I hear there are many barbarians there. If they come near me, I will snap them.” He broke off a thin branch from an elm tree and jabbed us. My eyes were drawn to his tongue sticking out from the gap in his teeth.

  “Never mind,” he added. “You can stay. I can use four new hands. Warlords have picked through my best laborers. Food and shelter will more than pay for your hard work. This is not an inn.” He poked our chests. “You will have to work hard and obey. Do as you are told. I want no lip. When the new landlord Master Xun comes around, remember your place, keep your eyes down and your mouths shut unless he speaks to you. Not that he’d bother with your sort. Otherwise stay away from him, he is a strange one. Do you hear me?”

  Before I could answer, he told us that we would be sleeping with the chickens, which we were to guard like brothers. We were to stay away from Uncle’s three daughters and treat his four sons like respected princes. He didn’t say why Master Xun was strange. But it was not my place to expect an explanation. He walked away, leaving us with his eldest son to show us around.

  My Uncle worked part of a farm owned by a noble in the next prefecture. He had nine plots to work, two of which were devoted solely to Master Xun.

  It was the middle of the planting season, yet the fields looked to be in a pitiful state, with mounds of dirt and holes scattered about without any apparent order or structure. What should have been a hopeful time of the year among farmers was treated by my uncle with disinterest.

  One hot day as I dug rows into the earth with a thick tree branch, the outlines of several men blocked the sun as they stood over me. I was slapped to the ground.

  “You bow in the presence of the Master, you worthless swine,” Uncle said, swatting me to the ground again.

  I got up and bowed to Master Xun.

  “Forgive him, Master, he is new… from Chu, need I say more? He has yet to learn proper manners.” Uncle glared at me. The Master appeared more interested in my digging.

  Uncle scolded me again when he saw that I had not started seeding yet, whereas everybody else had all but finished, covering at least three times more ground than I.

  “Forgive me Master, he is my sister’s useless boy, weak and soft. I will whip him into shape.” Uncle swung his arm up to strike me again.

  Master Xun raised his hand and stopped my uncle’s next slap in mid-air. Uncle seemed flustered at not being able to fully demonstrate his authority. He had lost face. He puffed his chest out instead and demanded to know why I was so slow.

  I could see the Master from the corner of my eyes. Like most noblemen his skin was pale, but his beard was short and tightly shaped into a perfect wedge. Dark, thoughtful eyes surveyed everything within his sight. He wore a loose-cut cloth with a wide silk sash that wrapped around his lower body. It was ingeniously wrapped from the front of the upper body to the back, making full use of horizontal and diagonal lines to complement space and achieve a quietude in motion. Except for a pair of embroidered brocades with wavy patterns suggesting wisdom and intellect, it was sparsely but elegantly decorated.

  “Dear Uncle and Master,” I said cautiously. “It was my father who taught me how to sow seeds in this manner.”

  I could feel Uncle’s temper rising. He explained to Master that he had taken me in only out of pity and loyalty to his dear sister, and that my father knew nothing about farming. Hearing that said about my father, I could not remember my place nor hold my tongue.

  “Dear Uncle, Father’s farm was the most impressive in the land. Many farmers came from near and far to learn from him. Our crops always outgrew everybody else’s. He knew…”

  The Master cut me off. “What yo
ur Uncle says about you lacking in manners is true. And you should be more careful: it is one thing to boast of your father and imitate his methods, but quite another to understand them. What is the purpose of tilling the soil this way? Speak.”

  I glanced at my grinning Uncle, then replied: “Scattering the seeds is a waste, Master. The birds eat more than we do. Father had us first dig into the ground so the seeds would be safe. He taught us that if the crops are grown in rows, they will have more room and mature faster.”

  I was convinced that the next strike was coming. When it did not, I continued.

  “They will not interfere with each other’s growth. I am creating a ridge and furrow pattern first, as you can see. Then I will carefully space each seed before covering it with dirt. But without the right tools, it is slow work.”

  “Tools?” Uncle laughed nervously. “Master is so kind and generous to give us a livelihood and you speak of needing tools?”

  Uncle turned to Master. “Sir, I will beat the cheekiness from this child. You will never have to suffer his disrespect again.” Uncle dropped to one knee before the Master, bowed his head and offered an open palm, closed fist salute.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Master Xun said. “Send him to me once his work today is done.”

  The Master walked on. Everyone stood silently until he was out of hearing, then Uncle slapped my head. “If the Master wasn’t expecting you later, I’d beat you now. He better not go easy on you. The last thing I need is a useless farmhand.”

  Uncle ran to catch up to the Master, no doubt to kowtow further.

  I asked one of my cousins why Uncle would say that about the Master.

  “It is obvious, you fool,” my cousin replied. “The Master’s hands are soft, his skin is ghostly. He knows nothing about working the land. Did you not see his fine clothes? He was a silk merchant for many years. Merchants are not to be trusted. They make nothing, and they do nothing, except make money off the labor of others. What use are they? I would rather answer to a cowardly soldier than a pompous swindler.”