Chapter Eight: Cao Yang’s Master

“How do you know so much?”
“That’s obvious. I work at a nightclub, so I’ve heard plenty of underworld stories.”

...

By the time they reached Houjie, it was already dark. Li Yan found a small inn and paid ten yuan for a room.

The room was tiny, containing nothing but a bathroom and a bed.

“I’ll sleep on the bed; you can sleep on the floor,” Li Yan said, pointing to the mat on the ground and gesturing for Cao Yang to lay it out for the night.

“Why do you get the bed and I get the floor?” Cao Yang protested; he wanted to sleep on the bed as well.

“Because I’m the one who paid for the room!” she said confidently.

Cao Yang was silent for two seconds, then said, “Fine, I’ll book another room myself.”

“Wait,” Li Yan called out as he was about to leave. She dug into his bag and, after a moment of searching, pulled out the two hundred yuan he had given her earlier that day.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Cao Yang’s face darkened. How could she take back the money she’d already been given?

Li Yan explained, “I don’t have a job now, which means no income. I’m holding onto this money for you so you don’t waste it!”

She then handed him twenty yuan. “Here, take this for expenses. If it’s not enough, just ask me.”

“Phew...” Cao Yang accepted the money, exhaled deeply, and resisted the urge to smack her. He flopped onto the bed. “Anyway, I’m sleeping here tonight!”

“Go ahead, but no funny business,” Li Yan said, shifting to the left to keep some distance between them.

The two lay on the bed, chatting. They first reminisced about amusing childhood memories in their hometown, then discussed their plans for the future.

“You’re so good at fighting, you could work as a bodyguard for rich people,” Li Yan suggested earnestly.

Cao Yang shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Money, big brother! Do you like money or not?!”

Cao Yang thought for a moment and nodded. “I like it.”

“If you like it, then why won’t you do it?”

“I don’t know any rich people. Do you? Introduce me?”

Li Yan fell silent.

...

After a long pause, she asked, “Why are you so good at fighting? Have you ever trained in martial arts?”

Li Yan knew Cao Yang was a formidable fighter—she remembered seeing him chase down seven or eight kids from the neighboring village when they were young. But she never expected him to be just as tough as an adult.

Cao Yang shook his head and then nodded again. “I never trained in martial arts, but I practiced cultivation. Do you believe me?”

Li Yan was taken aback for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“I believe you. My mom told me that when you were little, you were tricked by the idiot from the next village into kowtowing and becoming his disciple, washing clothes, cooking, and doing farm work for him!”

She laughed heartily, clearly picturing the scene.

Cao Yang’s face darkened like the bottom of a pot—those were memories he wished to forget.

In his hometown, behind the mountain, there was a tiny, dilapidated Taoist temple that would collapse with a strong wind.

Inside lived a mad Taoist priest, a figure who haunted Cao Yang’s childhood.

One day, Cao Yang and two friends went up the mountain to steal fruit. Passing the temple, they found the mad priest absent and decided to sneak in to steal something to sell for ice cream.

There was nothing valuable in the broken-down temple except two aluminum pots in the kitchen.

The three boys entered to steal them, but at that moment, the mad priest returned. The two friends fled in panic, but Cao Yang was caught in the kitchen.

He was terrified, but instead of punishing him, the mad priest spoke kindly: “Amazing! A divine light is shining from the top of your head, do you know that?”

Cao Yang shook his head, bewildered.

“My boy, you’re a one-in-a-million cultivation prodigy. Become my disciple, and I will help you comprehend the great Dao of heaven and earth.”

Cao Yang nodded and immediately knelt to kowtow, calling him master.

At the time, influenced by some TV dramas, he believed that eccentric masters often appeared mad, like Hong Qigong or Ouyang Feng. He was convinced that this mad Taoist was such a master.

After becoming his disciple, the mad Taoist taught him a set of cultivation techniques, which were too fantastical to recount here—otherwise, you’d think this was a fantasy novel.

Every morning before dawn, Cao Yang went up the mountain to meditate with his master, contemplating the Dao.

In the afternoons, after school, he helped chop wood, farm, feed chickens, and do other chores.

His mother scolded him several times for neglecting household work to help a madman on the mountain.

But no matter how many times she scolded him, he persisted in going up the mountain daily.

This continued for three years until one day the village elder found them meditating and asked Cao Yang why he wasn’t studying properly and instead wasting time there.

When Cao Yang explained the cultivation, the elder laughed heartily.

He told Cao Yang that his master was the idiot from the neighboring village, not some enlightened hermit.

...

The idiot’s real name was Zhang Qiyang. He was a normal person, one of the few high school graduates at the time, teaching at the town’s elementary school and married to a beautiful wife, living a decent life.

But then his mother died, poisoned by someone—and the culprits were his wife and his father.

It turned out his wife and father were having an affair, and when his mother caught them, they killed her to keep it secret.

At the time, this scandal rocked the village. Zhang Qiyang couldn’t bear the shock and went mad, running around the village naked and eating rubbish.

The village’s old Taoist priest took pity on him and brought him to the mountain temple to care for him. After two years, the old priest died, and Zhang Qiyang stayed there alone.

When Cao Yang learned the truth, he was furious that he had called a madman his master for three years.

He immediately destroyed the master’s kitchen, chicken coop, and vegetable garden. The elder had to stop him from tearing down the entire temple.

The village elder spread the story throughout Langlang Village, and Cao Yang was laughed at for years.

It wasn’t until a few years ago, when the mad Taoist came down the mountain and met a terrible fate—being crushed in two—that the villagers gradually forgot the incident.

Cao Yang and the village elder handled the madman’s remains. Despite the anger, there was still some affection after calling him master for three years.

They buried the master behind the temple, which soon collapsed. Now only wild grass grows there, with no trace left.

Cao Yang returned his thoughts to the present, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

When he became a disciple, he firmly believed his master was a sage. When the village elder told him the truth, he was convinced the master was a fraud.

But now he felt confused. He had never lost a fight in all these years; his speed, strength, and reflexes surpassed others by far. Was this innate, or the result of three years of cultivation with the master?

Thinking carefully, he realized he hadn’t lost fights even before becoming the master’s disciple. It must be natural talent.

...

“Ahhh...” Late at night, the small inn echoed with all kinds of fighting noises.

At first, it was just from the neighboring room, but soon it became uncontrollable—sounds of battles coming from all directions, front, back, left, and right, from the handsome young men and women working in nearby factories.

He kept his eyes on the ceiling and silently endured.

Li Yan also stared at the ceiling, quietly bearing it.

Suddenly, Cao Yang turned to look at Li Yan.

Li Yan turned to face him as well.