Chapter Fifty-One: The Party in the Mansion

Against the backdrop of most traditional martial arts techniques being lost, Liu Qingshan's act of taking on disciples could be considered as the founding of a new school; he certainly had no intention of teaching his ancestors’ skills to foreigners first.

“Kunal is someone you just met as well, isn’t he?” Parjay, after listening intently to Kunal’s explanation, raised this doubt from the side.

Liu Qingshan shook his head with a smile. “Kunal is different. I made that decision after more than a month of observation. There are some things I can teach you, but there’s no need for a formal discipleship yet. Wait until you’re a bit older and have a certain foundation. If you still want to become my disciple, you can come find me in China.”

He then turned to look at Kram, “The child is still very young, and your family has its own rules for education. I can only guide him to the basics for now. How far he goes will be up to him as an adult.”

Kram was overjoyed; in fact, this was precisely what he had in mind. As one of the main heirs of the Sashara family, Parjay’s future had long been planned by the family. Besides, hurriedly recognizing a tutor of a different ethnicity and faith would have adverse effects in such a tradition-bound family.

Thus, within that short time before dinner, the matter was decided. Parjay was still young and was simply thrilled that Liu Qingshan was willing to teach him. Unlike his father’s reserved delight, the boy couldn’t contain his excitement and let out exuberant cries on the spot.

Evening soon arrived, and the wealthy in India were especially fond of hosting parties at their villas. Any happy occasion was a cause to invite friends and relatives, and their parties were extravagant to the extreme.

Tonight was no different—indeed, it was a display of their respect for a distinguished guest from afar. They even invited some local magnates and several executives from Treasure Films.

For a time, an endless stream of luxury cars lined up outside, with bodyguards in tow. The spectacle was quite grand.

These people were likely the high castes residing in the wealthy district; their attire suggested they had been destined since birth for a life of privilege and excellent education.

Dinner was served buffet-style, with a variety of delicacies prepared in advance and finely crafted cutlery set at each table for guests to help themselves.

The dishes were not everyday fare but expensive seafood like Australian lobster, specially prepared by chefs.

At Kram’s table, where the two guests were seated, several impeccably dressed dignitaries joined them—each boasting an illustrious background.

Kram was an interesting man, the wealthiest in India and a prodigal spender. Yet, he happened to dislike curry and the local spiced tea. He didn’t care that eating with one’s hands was considered a practice of the poor; he still retained the habit and rarely used a fork and knife throughout the evening.

Eating with the hand was a local custom; most Indians ate with their hands, specifically the right hand, as the left was considered unclean.

This practice was tied to their beliefs, with the conviction that eating with the hand was more sacred. They also felt it allowed them to sense the temperature of the food, avoid burning their mouths, and have a more direct connection with their meal—something chopsticks or cutlery couldn’t provide.

However, Kram was unlike most at the table; few were so unconcerned with using their hands.

Perhaps out of consideration for their guests, the others used cutlery less and even attempted to use chopsticks, imitating Liu Qingshan and his companion, resulting in bursts of laughter at their clumsy efforts.

Parjay stayed close to Liu Qingshan almost the entire time. Though he sometimes pestered with questions, he was mostly quiet, which made his mentor come to like him even more.

Over the next two days, Liu Qingshan, living at the manor, would call for Parjay and personally instruct him in practicing a simplified version of the Thirty-six Hands of Flowery Fist.

This was something Liu Qingshan had developed over several months. The forms weren’t many, but they included the five essential stances—bow, horse, crouch, empty, and rest—and the three basic hand forms—fist, palm, and hook—of the Flowery Fist, forming an essential introductory routine.

Practicing the simplified routine improved coordination, taught the connection between movements, and enhanced their quality—laying a foundation for further study. It was also the standard curriculum Liu Qingshan taught martial arts practitioners in the mainland and Hong Kong.

Within a dozen or so moves were incorporated stepping forward, stepping back, as well as techniques like arm-sweeping, straight punching, pressing palm, thrusting palm, lifting palm, block and strike, and cover and strike—making it the essence of the introductory level.

Apart from Chen Long, all his students had mastered this modified form, superior to most commonly seen fist or palm techniques.

To Liu Qingshan’s relief, Parjay had clearly received systematic basic martial arts training from a young age. Kunal had already taught him essentials like forward and side pressing, front and side kicks, and splits—fundamental leg and waist skills.

According to Kunal, Parjay had talent for martial arts. Despite the inevitable temper of a young master, he could endure hardship overall.

The Thirty-six Hands of Flowery Fist was no ordinary art; only by practicing could one appreciate its depth. Even at ten, after less than two days, Parjay sensed something extraordinary about the form.

Thus, four days later, when Chen Long arrived, the boy was already deeply enamored with the practice and profoundly grateful to his nominal master.

So much so that he refused to leave Liu Qingshan’s side even at night, prompting Kram to arrange a temporary room for his younger son in the guest quarters next door.

Though young, Parjay understood that Liu Qingshan would soon be leaving. While his gratitude didn’t bring him to tears, he was certainly full of reluctance.

With Chen Long’s arrival, the manor hosted another evening gathering.

This party was even grander, as Chen Long’s legendary name drew half of Bollywood’s stars and starlets.

Marika Sharavat, who played Shamantha, brought along her cousin Aishwarya. The former, having unexpectedly acted in the film of an international superstar from the East, became the envy of nearly all the attending actors—including the globally renowned Aishwarya.

Aishwarya whispered to Liu Qingshan, complaining that the Bollywood queen Aishwarya, who shared her name, was infuriated upon learning she had been upstaged by her cousin Marika, and had vowed revenge more than once.

Now, seeing the two together, their exchanged glances indeed sparkled with veiled hostility.

Fortunately, as one of the seven great film companies in Bollywood, Treasure Films commanded enough influence, and with Kram, the formidable head of the Sashara Group, the subtle power struggle was quickly suppressed.

Afterwards, the Bollywood queen Aishwarya seemed to get along splendidly with Chen Long at the party. From afar, Liu Qingshan saw them conversing intimately, heads almost touching, their rapport seemingly excellent.

As fellow Easterners, Liu Qingshan and Liang also received much adulation from the stars. Among the various sincere and insincere flatteries, Liang’s reception was noticeably more genuine than Liu Qingshan’s.

As the host, Kram did little to promote Liu Qingshan, likely wary of the many film moguls present, fearing they might poach his connections.

This suited Liu Qingshan just fine; most of the time, he simply chatted with Kram’s relatives, especially Parjay’s mother, Lady Anuaga—one of Kram’s wives, though he wasn’t sure which number.

This beautiful woman, also a Bollywood actress, was kind-hearted, reasonable, and virtuous. Whether this gentle and understanding nature was typical of Indian women, Liu Qingshan didn’t know, but her elegant manners made him feel at ease.

Perhaps thanks to her kind endorsement, Liu Qingshan enjoyed great popularity among the women of the family, receiving many small gifts from wealthy young ladies over the past few days.

Among the gifts were spices and tea, but mostly jewelry—gems, silver ornaments, necklaces, rings, bracelets, anklets, and so on—presented as tokens for his future wife.

This, he was told, was a local tradition. Indian women generally didn’t work after marriage and depended on their husband’s family, so such bride price-like gifts were customary.

There were also Kashmiri shawls and carpets—a famous export, their subdued hues and Mughal floral patterns exuding an exotic charm.

In just a few days, Liu Qingshan had witnessed the family’s profligacy: not just their dazzling jewelry, but also casually gifting gold phones or crocodile leather bags worth ten thousand pounds.

Thus, he accepted these things without a second thought, untroubled by what others might think—let practicality prevail.

“Master, once you leave, you won’t ever come back, will you?”

Parjay, imitating Kunal, addressed him as master, and Liu Qingshan accepted it; after all, he had grown fond of the boy.

“That’s not certain. I still have business with Mr. Kram, but I won’t be returning soon—at least not until Kunal finishes his studies.”

“How many years will it take for Brother Kunal? Will I be able to come to China to find you one day?”

“He’ll need at least three years. As for you, you’re still at the very beginning. When you’ve trained to the point of developing internal energy, you’ll be ready to seek me out.”

“What’s internal energy?”

“When you truly master generating force from your lower abdomen, that’s when you can start learning the real Flowery Fist. It takes time—focus first on the chopping punch. Practice it long enough, feel the true strength in it, and that’s the embryonic form of internal energy.”

If one listened closely to Liu Qingshan’s words, they would sense a deeper meaning.