Chapter Sixteen: Mission

The next morning, Zhou Yi awoke from his meditation. When he went downstairs, the innkeeper had already prepared all the items Zhou Yi needed, returning the remaining two silver dollars in full. Zhou Yi smiled slightly and declined to take them, saying to the innkeeper, “You’ve been so thorough in preparing these things for me—please take these two silver dollars as your reward.”

The innkeeper quickly waved his hands. “Sir, you’ve already paid for your lodging and meals. How could I accept more?”

In these troubled times, people who are not greedy for money are nearly extinct. Zhou Yi felt an added sense of goodwill toward the innkeeper. Since he refused, Zhou Yi had no choice but to accept the silver dollars. He looked around the room and, noting that the inn’s main entrance faced directly onto the street, said to the innkeeper, “Do you have a mirror here? If not, go out and buy one.”

The innkeeper didn’t understand but nodded dumbly and left the shop, presumably to buy a mirror. Before long, he returned. Zhou Yi took the mirror, nailed it beneath the inn’s signboard, and explained nothing more. The inn’s door faced the street, and every day the inn welcomed guests—a layout that, in Feng Shui, is known as “direct clash,” considered unlucky for the owner. By nailing a mirror to the door, the negative energy would be reflected away.

Then he said to the innkeeper, “You need to replace this mirror once a year. If you have the chance, buy two potted plants and place them on either side of the shop. This will ensure prosperity and ward off misfortune, but do not place more than two.” The inn’s Five Elements lacked wood. Though the building was made of timber, what the business needed was strong fire for prosperity. That’s why Zhou Yi suggested two potted plants; too much wood would feed fire, and if fire became too strong, it would upset the elemental balance. Zhou Yi was careful to make this point clear.

The innkeeper tried again to offer money to Zhou Yi, who refused. Instead, the innkeeper presented him with two jars of fine wine.

With their goods already loaded onto the wagon, Zhou Yi and Baozi set off back to Baishan Village. That day happened to be market day in Erdaogou Town. Passing through the market, they noticed several boys and girls standing by the roadside, straw stuck in their hair and dressed in thin, ragged clothes. Zhou Yi puzzled over this and stopped a passerby to ask, “Brother, why do these children have straw in their hair?”

The man sighed and shook his head. “Those are unfortunate children. In times like these, even the rich can barely survive, let alone the poor.” Zhou Yi was left confused by this reply, and as he tried to ask further, the man slipped away.

At that moment, Zhou Yi was wearing a sheepskin coat, a dogskin cap, and heavy boots—apparel which, in Republican-era Manchuria, was the equivalent of a modern mink coat. Anyone could see at a glance that Zhou Yi was from a wealthy family.

A little girl by the roadside saw Zhou Yi driving past and ran up to him, pleading, “Big brother, please buy me. I can do anything, as long as you give me something to eat.” Only then did Zhou Yi realize that these children with straw in their hair were being sold—victims of war and chaos, where would-be warlords waged battles for their own gain, uncaring for the suffering of the poor. Moved, Zhou Yi took a silver dollar from his pocket and handed it to the girl.

“Take it and buy yourself something to eat. When you go home, be good to your parents…” Zhou Yi could find no better words, only cracked his whip and urged the horse onward. Seeing Zhou Yi give the girl a silver dollar, the others paid no heed to the moving wagon and fell to their knees, begging for his charity.

Faced with the uncountable number of kneeling children, Zhou Yi dared not linger. If he stayed a moment longer, even the five hundred silver dollars he had refused from Mingchuan Youzhi the day before wouldn’t be enough to help them all. At that thought, Zhou Yi somewhat regretted turning down Mingchuan Youzhi’s money.

It was only with great effort that Zhou Yi drove the wagon through the market. Looking back at the pleading eyes of those children, a heaviness weighed on his heart. He resolved that, should he one day possess the power, he must do something for them.

Leaving the town, they traveled north. Their wagon had been empty on the way in, but now it was laden with goods, and the journey home was slow. By the time they arrived, dusk had fallen. Zhou Yi and Baozi chatted merrily along the way, unaware that Suzuki Yuichi had been following their cart the entire time.

Upon reaching home, Beiqiao the dog leapt into Zhou Yi’s arms, licking his face with its tongue. Zhou Yi tossed a piece of pork to Beiqiao, who snatched it up and ran off to eat.

Zhou Dajiang was not at home. By the time Zhou Yi and Baozi finished unloading the goods, it was already the first quarter of the hour of the dog. They prepared dinner, but Zhou Dajiang still hadn’t returned. The family sat at the table, waiting for him. When the third quarter had passed, Zhou Yi’s mother reheated the dishes and signaled that they should start without him. Only then did everyone pick up their chopsticks.

By the sixth quarter of the hour, Beiqiao let out a wolf-like howl outside. Zhou Yi frowned; Beiqiao only howled on nights of the full moon, and tonight was not one. Concerned, Zhou Yi went out. As soon as he opened the door, Zhou Dajiang collapsed into his arms. Zhou Yi hurriedly helped him inside, only to see that Zhou Dajiang’s face was ashen and his breath weak as gossamer.

“Father, what’s happened to you? Third Brother, quickly, go fetch the doctor!” Zhou Yi cried anxiously.

His younger brother was about to leave when Zhou Dajiang waved him back and spoke, “Man proposes, Heaven disposes. It’s fate. No need for the doctor—I haven’t much time left.”

“Father, please don’t speak. Rest quietly,” Zhou Yi said, laying Zhou Dajiang down on the heated kang bed. Seeing his brother still standing there, Zhou Yi grew angry. “Why are you still here? Go get the doctor!”

Zhou Dajiang shook his head. “It’s no use. Gather around—my time is short.” As he finished speaking, color returned to his face and his voice gained strength. He even sat up on the kang.

Zhou Yi, seeing his father’s improved color, was delighted. “Father, you look so much better! Don’t worry, just lie down and rest.” He tried to help Zhou Dajiang lie down again, but his father refused.

“This is a final rally of spirit. I haven’t much time left. Little Bao, go to your eldest brother’s house and fetch him home.” Zhou Dajiang’s words frightened the family deeply.

Seeing Baozi hesitate, Zhou Dajiang pressed, “What, do my words no longer carry weight? Go, and hurry—there’s not much time.”

Only then did Zhou Yi believe his father’s words were true. He glanced at Baozi, who now understood and left at once to fetch the eldest brother.

Once Baozi was gone, Zhou Dajiang clutched his chest and began to cough, spitting up a mouthful of congealed blood—so dark it was nearly black.

At the sight, Zhou Yi realized his father had been injured. “Father, who hurt you? I’ll avenge you!”

“I chased them all off the mountain. It’s just a shame the restriction on the temple was destroyed by them,” Zhou Dajiang sighed. “I know what you want to ask. Tonight, I’ll tell you everything.

“Our family is of the Bordered Yellow Banner, direct descendants of Wuxihaqi and Haochihe, who followed Nurhaci in his campaigns. When Nurhaci was wounded by the Ming army’s red-barreled cannon, our ancestor failed to protect him and was stripped of his title as Banner Lord. Since then, we have guarded the dragon vein of the Qing in these Changbai Mountains for generations.

“I am the thirty-fourth generation. Now the Qing is no more, but as long as the dragon vein remains, there is hope for its restoration.

“I never taught you the path to cultivation because I hoped you could live as an ordinary person, free from the burden of restoring our nation. I owe you all so much these past years. You don’t resent me, do you?” Even as Dajiang finished, his spirit seemed to wane.

Zhou Yi hurriedly shook his head. “How could your child ever resent you, Father? Everything you did was for our sake. But how were you injured? Please tell me.”

Dajiang smiled faintly and continued, “All these years, I’ve searched for a way to renew the dragon vein’s energy, but to no avail. Perhaps it’s Heaven’s will. The temple’s barrier was left by an immortal, able to ward off heavenly tribulation. Today, as I tried to consolidate energy in the temple, four scoundrels came and attacked while I was at a critical moment. I killed three, but one escaped. Because of their ambush, my energy was scattered. Soon, I will perform a soul transmigration technique so that I may pass directly into rebirth without entering the cycle of reincarnation. Don’t grieve for me.”