Chapter 56: Mountain Cultivation (2)

“I am not picking you up. I go home on Sundays. I am not going to pick you up, not a chance.”

It was a joke, but I really did not want to stay on the mountain all day long anyway. The path into the bamboo forest on the mountain was only known by me and Old Man Jiang. When my family came, we had to go down and lead them up. Fortunately, the valley was open, so if you shouted, you could definitely be heard.

“Go home? San Wa Er, did you finish the task your master gave you this week? You can go home?” Su Rou looked unwilling.

Damn it, what kind of friend is this? Just for food, he would rather I suffer.

But the moment Su Rou brought it up, I deflated. I really had not finished my task this week, so I could not go home. I could only wait for my family to come visit me instead.

That Old Man Jiang, that old liar, used to say I could go home on weekends, but now he came up with some kind of task system. If I did not finish it, I could not go home.

While we were talking, Su Rou soon reached his house. We said goodbye, and I began my walk back up the mountain with a heavy mood.

To be honest, the place where Old Man Jiang lived was not far from the village. I was already familiar with the route, so in about half an hour I returned to the little house on the mountain, not even out of breath.

“You are back?” Old Man Jiang said with a smile, holding his purple clay teapot and taking a sip of tea, looking extremely carefree.

“I am back,” I replied weakly.

“Good timing. Your master is hungry and waiting for you to cook. The winter bamboo shoots in the bamboo forest are just right now. Go dig some up so we can stir fry fresh shoots tonight. Also, there is some leftover wild rabbit meat from yesterday, I put it in...” Old Man Jiang kept issuing instructions in one breath.

“Master, I still have homework to do.” My protest was meaningless, but I still wanted to protest.

“Homework and cooking both must be done. Remember to use the blowing method I taught you when lighting the fire, and use the wrist movement method when cooking. If you dare be lazy, you will spend the entire night practicing monkey form. No, ape form,” Old Man Jiang huffed angrily, as if he were the one being wronged.

That night, a cold moonlight shone over the open space in front of the bamboo house. The surroundings were completely quiet, except for the occasional strange animal call.

Winter nights always had wind, and it was especially cold, but I was drenched in sweat even though I was only wearing thin clothes.

Thud.

Another apple core hit me accurately. I gasped for air and shouted in dissatisfaction, “Master, you have already thrown things at me eight times tonight.”

“Even if I threw it eighty times, it would be useless. How many times have I told you? The Five Animal Frolics is not just about form. It must be combined with correct breathing techniques. The breath must circulate and condense within without dispersing. That is how it nourishes the body and strengthens health. Martial arts families also emphasize internal energy that is contained and not exposed. Once the breath scatters, the strength scatters too. You are panting like this, are you practicing monkey tricks, or chasing chickens?” Old Man Jiang, who had been sitting on the corridor watching me practice, suddenly became furious and jumped in front of me as he spoke.

“Now it is movement, now it is strange breathing patterns. Something like three long, one short, inhale, exhale coordination, and alternating breathing through mouth and nose. Master, is breathing not just breathing?” I wiped my sweat and squatted down shamelessly.

I was really exhausted. Cooking, homework, copying the Dao De Jing that I had not finished in the morning, and now training again. Even a steel body would not hold up.

Old Man Jiang wanted to say something more, but seeing me yawn, he ultimately said nothing.

After a moment of silence, he somehow pulled out a dirty cloth and threw it to me. “Wipe off your sweat. Come in, drink soup, and take a bath.”

“There is soup to drink?” I had never expected such treatment.

“Hmph. A poor man who does not train cannot cultivate. A martial practitioner who does not replenish his body will collapse before fifty, let alone a cultivator. Cultivation emphasizes nourishment. If you only train without replenishing, your body will not absorb nutrients. What is the point of training qi and body then? Unless you reach a higher level, but that is only legend,” Old Man Jiang said very seriously.

He pulled me toward the kitchen.

The so called kitchen was just part of the back corridor of the bamboo house, with a simple shed built over it and a few crude stoves underneath.

At that moment, on one of the stoves sat an earthen pot. It was steaming and bubbling with a gurgling sound. A strange fragrance drifted through the air.

It was a light aroma of meat mixed with medicinal scent. I was already starving after a long night of exhaustion, and I kept swallowing saliva.

“Look at you,” Old Man Jiang said with amusement, even slipping into a Beijing accent without noticing. After coming up the mountain, he had been teaching me standard Mandarin, and we often switched between Sichuan dialect and Beijing speech.

He once told me, “You will travel the world in the future. Speaking standard Mandarin is useful, and you should learn other dialects too.”

Old Man Jiang was rarely this kind, and I happily stared at the steaming pot, grinning foolishly.

“It is cheap for you, brat. If you were not my disciple, I would never bring out these treasures. Once you eat them, there is less each time. It will not last until you are fifteen, I still need to figure something out,” Old Man Jiang said as he lifted the lid.

A stronger aroma rushed out.

I was so hungry that my stomach growled loudly, and I did not even listen carefully to his words.

“Master, you are not eating?” I asked.

“Useless for me to eat. Wasteful. Some things are determined by fate...” His tone suddenly turned a little sorrowful.

I felt my heart tighten for some reason. I could not explain it, but whenever he said things like that, I felt an uncomfortable heaviness.

But in the next moment, Old Man Jiang glared and shouted, “Why are you still standing there? Go get a bowl!”

I hurried to get a bowl. He carefully ladled the soup and ingredients into a full bowl for me.

Under the oil lamp, the soup looked slightly dark, but it still had a clear, inviting sheen. The meat was bird meat, though I did not know what kind. There were also medicinal residues floating inside.

“This is wild pigeon meat. Eat quickly. It is so good you will swallow your tongue. The recipe for this soup was from Second Brother...” Old Man Jiang suddenly stopped, his expression turning strange.

I drank a mouthful of soup without waiting for it to cool. It really was incredibly delicious, but I was curious.

“Who is Second Brother?”

“What Second Brother? I am your Second Granduncle,” Old Man Jiang glared. “Drink all the soup. Finish the meat too. I am going to prepare the seasoning broth. After you finish, come help me boil water. If you dare not wash the bowls, hmph...”

!

After eating until my stomach was full, I soaked in the medicinal bath. At that time, I thought it was the happiest thing in the world. That scene was something I would never forget. I was lying in the large wooden tub, occasionally splashing water, while Old Man Jiang sat nearby smoking a dry tobacco pipe.

He rarely smoked. Only when I was soaking in the medicinal bath would he take it out.

Usually, I would fall asleep during the bath because of the medicinal soup beforehand. In the end, I would be picked up by Old Man Jiang, roughly dried, and thrown onto the bed.

That moment every night became what I looked forward to the most, the warmest end to an exhausting and fulfilling day.

In the blink of an eye, another year passed. I had turned nine and entered third grade, and I had already lived on the mountain for a year and a half.

During that year and a half, I did not learn the mysterious abilities of Old Man Jiang. Instead, I learned a lot of what seemed like miscellaneous things to me, such as reciting the Dao De Jing, the Five Animal Frolics, and Tai chi.

Another ordinary winter morning, I got up at five as usual. After washing up, I came to the bamboo house corridor.

Facing the quiet and empty bamboo forest, I took a deep breath and began tooth tapping. This was a required morning practice.

Tongue pressed against the upper palate, tapping the left teeth, then switching to the right, repeating this cycle thirty six times.

Then I used my tongue to massage my gums up and down until saliva filled my mouth, which I swallowed in three portions. Each swallow was accompanied by a muffled thunder like sound, and I forcefully guided it downward as Master had taught, imagining it flowing into the dantian.

After finishing these tedious mouth and tongue exercises, I warmed my hands and covered my ears. Interlocking my fingers behind my head, I used my index finger to flick the back of my skull, fifty times on each side.

Of course, Master had mentioned specific acupoints, but most were on the back of the skull and had similar effects, so I took the chance to slack off when possible.

These exercises were very troublesome, but I had to do them every morning. Whenever I tried to be lazy, Old Man Jiang would suddenly appear behind me, and punishment would definitely follow.

After that, I would go to the kitchen to cook rice and wake up Old Man Jiang. He said that as my morning training increased, as long as I handled the fire and rice, he would cook breakfast.

After waking him, I would jog around the bamboo forest three laps, then stop by the small pond to practice the Sixteen Golden Formula. One breath lifts, qi returns to the navel, one lift and swallow, water and fire meet. I still had not fully mastered these sixteen words even now.

But Master said it was very beneficial for health and vitality, so I had to keep practicing.

By the time I finished all this, it was around six in the morning. School started at eight, and I needed an hour and a half to walk there. In the past, that was not enough time, but now my steps had become so light that I could just barely make it in time.

At six ten it was time to eat. Before breakfast, Old Man Jiang would often practice Tai chi with me for ten minutes. His movements were smooth and natural, containing a kind of Dao-like rhythm, while mine, in his words, were “an empty frame without spirit, let alone structure.”

Today’s breakfast was especially rich. Besides the usual thick porridge, two boiled eggs, and two side dishes, there were even steaming buns. Normally it was only steamed buns.

“What are you staring at? You were already asleep when I was making the filling last night. If I were not thinking about your birthday, you would not be eating these buns,” Old Man Jiang scolded, but still shoved one into my hand.

I froze, only then remembering. Today was my birthday. I was already nine years old.

“Master, you remembered my birthday?” I took a bite of the bun, genuinely moved.

“How could I forget? Other birthdays are whatever, but when you turn nine you should celebrate a bit. Come back early today, I have something to give you. When you turn ten, there are some things I need to tell you,” Old Man Jiang said, without explaining why the ninth birthday was special.