Edge of Humanity (Only Human Book 5) Page 8

I hadn’t coached Lauren in holding her shields strong around Shīfù when she thought of people from home, and Shīfù looked at me with large eyes — a rarity for him. “Mordecai? Adonis? The Dragon King? The Amakhosi?”

  I sighed. “You’ll help her with her shields, please, Shīfù?”

  He chuckled. “I will. I approve of your teachers, though I can’t imagine how you convinced Mordecai.”

  I pulled Lauren into a hug, and she held me tight, without any intention of letting me go.

  “You aren’t leaving now, are you?”

  “If you tell me not to, I won’t, but it means you may not be able to learn from Shīfù.”

  When she didn’t say anything, I met Shīfù’s gaze. “Do you have advice for which direction I should head?”

  “Journey to the west.” He shrugged. “Accurately, go north, but always consider my first instruction.”

  I squeezed Lauren. “I’ll return when I finish my quest or have to give up. I won’t leave you longer than four or five months in the human realm, though it’s possible time moves differently here.”

  I pulled back and gave her my stern mom look. “This is a great opportunity. Take advantage of every moment.”

  “I consider you as a daughter,” Shīfù told me. “This makes Lìlíng my granddaughter. She will be safe with me.”

  Shīfù had given me my Chinese name, which literally means Cunning Flame. It was a nod towards my red hair, my temper, and my zest for life and learning. Yes, I was his daughter in many ways. Lauren was in good hands.

  He held up a coin, and it took me a minute to realize it had a hole through it, with leather lacing so it could be worn as a necklace. “Keep it with you. You’ll know when to use it, and if you don’t, it will. If you feel you should wear it, do so.”

  “Thank you.” I accepted it and put it over my head — awkward while my daughter was still clinging to me. The metal settled onto my skin and… tasted me. I suppressed a shudder and looked to Shīfù, hoping he’d explain. He smiled. “Good. It accepted you. It’s fickle about who it will ride with. If it goes missing, you didn’t lose it — it left you for someone else, or it returned to me.”

  I touched it with my fingertips and felt a frisson of energy from it. Magic. I hadn’t been comfortable with that word for so long, but it seemed the right descriptor for the necklace. I’d been using it a lot lately — Randall’s energy felt more like magic than power, and I’d started calling it what it felt like.

  I managed to move Lauren away, told her I loved her, bowed again to Shīfù, made sure my backpack was secure, and focused on Mount Éméi. I’d visited there before and thought it too much of a tourist destination for me to learn anything of value. However, it was a few hours north of the village, one of the sacred mountains, and I figured it was a good place to start my journey.

  I landed on the trail near one of the temples, thankful I didn’t just pop up in front of a tourist. It was late, so I used my fake temporary residence card to pay for a bed in the large bunkroom, ate a thankfully vegetarian dinner, reset my failsafe, and fell fast asleep.

  Accommodations at Yuxian temple aren’t fancy — utilitarian wooden bunks, and squat toilets that empty onto the side of the mountain. The food is excellent though. Dinner was spicy eggplant and charred cabbage with steamed rice. The next morning, I noted chopped up pieces of the evening meal in the fried rice. We were also given boiled eggs for breakfast, and it was surprisingly filling.

  I reset my failsafe upon awakening, and talked to some of the tourists during breakfast.

  They told me of visiting Zǐxiāo Palace, and it reminded me of the Temple of the Five Immortals, which is close to the palace. In fact, the palace and temple act in much the same way as the village and mountain temples I’d just come from — a martial arts school in both places, and it was much harder to get into the mountain classes than the ones at the base. Of course, both places are actually in China, so it shouldn’t be as hard. I’d learned a little about maneuvering my way around the rules in China. Could I talk my way into the Temple of the Five Immortals? Only one way to find out.

  I was at Mount Éméi though, so I decided to see if any teachers appeared while making the trek to the top.

  Hiking to the summit is a challenge, but it felt good to stretch my legs and breathe the mountain air. Thankfully, I managed to avoid any encounters with the wild monkeys. Nothing happened during the hike to draw my attention or in any way point to a learning experience. When I reached the top, I took in the scenery and found a place to eat.

  Once again, the people near me were talking about Zǐxiāo Palace.

  I took the cable car down, and heard someone lamenting there hadn’t been one to get from Zǐxiāo Palace to the temple at the top of the mountain.

  Three mentions. I knew where I was headed.

  I bought a bus ticket to Chongqing when I reached the base of the mountain, and waited in the bus station the two hours before it was due to leave. At Chongqing, I purchased an airline ticket to Shiyan, and then I arranged for private transportation to a hostel near the palace. It was only late afternoon when I arrived, but I slept through to morning. Travel in China is exhausting, but I didn’t remember enough of Zǐxiāo Palace to come in through the nothingness.

  10

  I spent the morning washing clothes and shopping. I’d left our toothpaste, shampoo, etc with Lauren. She’d have an opportunity to make her own when she ran out, but I wanted her to have something to start out with.

  And when I say I washed my clothes, I mean I used the tub provided in back of the hostel to clean them with soap and then rinse them, after which I used the clothesline to hang them.

  I talked to the other guests and learned as much about the area as I could. For a fee, the hostel manager helped me arrange for private transportation to the base of the mountain.

  I was certain I needed to go to the Five Immortals Temple. Hearing about the Palace had set me in the right direction — I’d wanted to study Taoism on a previous trip and hadn’t been able to. Here was my chance.

  Another night in the hostel, and then I turned the failsafe off. With no cell service or internet available on the mountain, I’d have no way to check in.

  My driver drove me to the trailhead, and it took a little over an hour to hike to the top of the mountain, where I was greeted by an elderly gentleman in robes.

  Most people arrange for classes and lodging ahead of time, and do so with references. It was clear he was confused that I’d just shown up.

  “If you have a room I can rent, and place in a class, I’ll gladly pay the fees, plus any extra for the inconvenience of having me show up without reservations. If you have no classes open, I will pay the fees and work for free, so I can hope to absorb the energy and knowledge in this place.”

  “You’re American, but you speak with a southern Mandarin dialect. What is your name?”

  “Kuàiyàn.”

  When he seemed to be considering the meaning, I traced the symbols on the back of my hand. He nodded with a smile, and asked, “And your American name?”

  “Kirsten. Unlike my Chinese name, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a name. Can I ask your name?”

  “LìXíng. Come, we will see what is available.”

  I signed up for every class I could. He cautioned I’d be tired, but I told him I wanted to take advantage of every opportunity. There were two hour-long meditations a day built into the schedule — there’d be plenty of time for the still and quiet.

  I didn’t learn until later, but LìXíng was the Abbott over the monastery. He watched me from afar, apparently, and ate with me a few times. He also took part in the morning standing meditations, but he didn’t teach me in that first week.

  Tao is pronounced dow (rhymes with cow), and more or less stands for “The Way”. It’s a path towards enlightenment, and the teachers here saw their temple as a gateway towards enlightenment. I don’t know what LìXíng did or didn’t see in me, but he let me find my own way.<
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  Here's the thing about ancient Chinese buildings: They're beautiful, and nice to visit, but a pain in the ass to live in. I was in a bunkroom with a hard, wooden bed. No mattress. The squat potties were beyond primitive. Bathing consisted of sponging yourself off out of a bucket. I’d brought plenty of feminine products, but I didn’t look forward to trying to stay clean when that time of the month hit.

  I loved the things I learned, though I already knew most of it. There were no big jumps in learning, no ah-ha moments, but I followed the program and put my all into everything — meditating, martial arts, chores, and every class. I focused on the beauty around me instead of the unpleasant conditions.

  And the beauty was breathtaking on some days. The temple is on top of a mountain, with spectacular vistas of the valleys, river, and other mountains. When it rains, the grounds are a muddy mess, but the foggy views of the valleys were worth it. Or, they were the first couple of days.

  It rains a lot. So much, mold was a problem. We were well and truly roughing it. A lot of people who’d paid tuition and lodging for month-long classes only lasted a few days before leaving. And still, I found more things every day to be grateful for than to be grumpy about.

  My days were filled with learning and movement. Our morning started with a one-hour standing meditation before and during the sunrise, so we could take in the beauty of the day when it began. Following this, QiGong for about an hour, in the same location.

  Breakfast was at seven thirty, and then everyone performed their assigned cleaning duties. Morning classes were from eight thirty until noon, when we helped prepare lunch and then ate. We were expected to find a place for private meditation until two o’clock, and then hard physical training lasted until dinner, which was at six o’clock. Most of the medical classes — like acupuncture and cupping — were taught from seven until nine, followed by a group sitting meditation, and then bed.

  My coin necklace was animated by a magic I didn’t understand, but I wore it because I trusted Shīfù, and he’d told me to wear it if I felt I should. It had stayed above my shirt the first few days, but became shy when I hiked to the temple, and stayed firmly inside my exercise bra while on the mountain, no matter what I did. Even upside down, it stayed between my breasts, hidden.

  Despite my intention to learn whatever I could, two weeks later, I didn’t feel as if I was getting anywhere. I knew most of what was being taught, though I’d learned it from a different perspective. In some cases, I felt as if I knew more than my teachers. I certainly had to slow my movements down when I sparred with them, despite learning a different form of fighting than I was used to.

  Had coming here been a mistake?

  I’d made friends, I had a good attitude, and I was trying to take in all I could. I didn’t want to feel as if I was getting nothing from it, yet the feeling was there. I meditated while I swept the floors, I lit the incense with purpose. I was conscious of every movement, every act.

  After a little over two weeks, I requested permission to skip classes so I could hike to one of the peaks. It took me three hours to reach the peak, and I was surprised when LìXíng was already there, standing in a one-legged Qigong pose on the top of the pinnacle.

  I found a flat spot ten feet below, and sat.

  Twenty minutes later, he joined me.

  “Why does someone who's found enlightenment, seek it?” he asked.

  “I'm not sure I've found it, revered teacher. It feels as if I'm in primary school, looking to move to secondary school.” This was the equivalent of feeling as if I’m in elementary school, wanting to get into high school, but not hoping for college level for a long time, if ever.

  He sighed. "You have an odd relationship with pain. The cups. The fire. The needles. You welcome them. You seek out those practitioners who are most intense, the least gentle. I do not understand, but it seems as if your gains during the day are taken away when you go through the cleansing rituals, yet they are supposed to add to your gains. Not take away.”

  He wasn’t wrong. I’d been getting some nice endorphin rushes in the evening. Not at all sexual, but I probably wasn’t in the frame of mind appropriate for The Way. Most people undertake this kind of journey as a test — a series of trials while they learn and cleanse themselves. There is no comfort, only trials.

  I was finding comfort in the trials.

  "Wise one. I thank you for your knowledge."

  We sat in silence. The mountain was soothing. Majestic, and yet comforting. I felt as if it cradled me, though I sat on the peak.

  I considered the immortals associated with the mountain and wondered if I was feeling them or the mountain. Finally, I asked, “Can you talk to me about NG Mui?”

  The name is pronounced En-jee Moo-ee — Like saying the letter N and the letter G, followed by movie without the V sound.

  Remembering that was her Cantonese name, I clarified. “Wú Méi.”

  Instead of telling me about her, he asked, “Where do you think our five immortals went?”

  “Every country has immortal beings who taught and then left. Why should China be any different?”

  "You believe our immortals went to the same place as the Greek Gods? The Christian Angels?" Right, because it wasn’t unusual for angels to appear to men in biblical times, but it doesn’t happen anymore. It wasn’t just the gods who’d left.

  "Am I being too logical?"

  "Perhaps not. I would say to you, Wǔdāng can be the doorway to enlightenment but it is not the end of the journey. Wú Méi is also associated with Éméi. Consider looking at a map of the mountain to see if a location appeals to you. Some of our gods still show up occasionally.” An insouciant shrug. “At least, the ones who must not follow the rules."

  “I’ve been there. It’s... a tourist place. It doesn’t feel real. Authentic.”

  “And we do?”

  “Very much.”

  “Perhaps you’ve had enough of this kind of learning. Consider what might happen if you focus on being a tourist, on having fun. Live, and see where you end up.”

  Shīfù’s words came back to me, to remember his first instructions — Journey to the West.

  And now, LìXíng was talking to me of Chinese gods. Mount Éméi is full of monkeys, but I’d avoided contact with them. Tourists often fall victim to the wild monkeys who steal food and drink from backpacks, and just generally terrorize the hikers, but I’d skirted my way around the activity. Journey to the West is the story of The Monkey King. Monkey is as ubiquitous in China as The Tooth Fairy, or, perhaps more aptly, The Joker Card, if it represented an actual person. Everyone in China grows up hearing the crazy stories of the mischievous, immature, scary-powerful Monkey King.

  Was Mount Éméi where Shīfù had sent me? Had I missed it because I assumed a tourist trap couldn’t really be a sacred mountain? A sacred place?

  “I will follow your advice, honorable master.”

  11

  I had dinner with my new friends, said goodbye, and headed down the mountain. They worried about me and wanted me to wait until morning to leave, but I assured them I’d be fine.

  I’d had to use public transportation to reach this temple, but I could flash back to Mount Éméi easily enough. Halfway down the mountain, I went through the nothingness and came out just off the trail on Mount Éméi, not too far from where I’d seen the monkeys. I sat on a boulder beside the trail and pulled out my thermos full of hot tea, but made sure the loop was around my wrist so a monkey couldn’t easily grab it and run.

  I’d worn black microfiber hiking pants and a sleeveless charcoal shirt, along with my hiking boots. I made sure the pockets on my pants were secured, and turned my backpack around so it was on my chest instead of my back. I also re-secured my hair in a bun, to keep the monkeys from playing with it.

  A few monkeys came near but didn’t get within touching distance. I put the lid on my thermos, put it inside my backpack, and used a carabiner to hold the zipper closed.

  I closed my eyes an
d meditated. There were no people on the trails, which was unusual, but I took advantage of the quiet peacefulness. I have no idea how long I sat, but when I opened my eyes, a large monkey was sitting in front of me. Mirroring me. Watching.

  Most macaques in this area are small. Perhaps ten to twenty pounds. However, this one had to weigh at least eighty pounds.

  “Hello.” Oh yeah. Chinese. “Nǐhǎo.”

  The monkey tilted his head. I didn’t check for a penis, but to be this big, I assumed male.

  Telling him to take me to his king sounded insane. I considered my options. Nathan somehow knew when a cat he was close to needed his attention. Would the Monkey King know when a monkey saw something interesting? I looked around to be sure we were alone, and formed a ball of light in my hand.

  The monkey tilted his head the other way and morphed into a man so fast my eyes couldn’t keep up. I absorbed the ball of light to be sure I didn’t accidently hurt something with it, and sat still, waiting for him to make the first move.

  He wasn’t dressed like The Monkey King of legend, which is traditionally either yellow somewhat clownish clothes, or the imperial body armor of centuries past. No, this man was in modern day hiking boots, black hiking pants with tons of pockets, a pale yellow shirt I felt certain was a wicking fabric, and his hair was cut like an arrogant teen. He appeared perhaps twenty, but could’ve been anywhere from seventeen to twenty-five.

  However, he held a long staff — taller than his height. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind — this was The Monkey King.

  “Sūn Wùkōng. I am honored to meet you.”

  He touched my hair, and I didn’t move. I’m used to Chinese people wanting to touch my red hair.

  “Báizhǒngrén.”

  It’s one of the nicer terms for a foreigner, which I took to be a good sign. Literally, it means white race person.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Báizhǒngrén.”

  “How does báizhǒngrén call me?”

  I couldn’t for the life of me remember the Mandarin word for magic. With no other answer coming to me, I held my hand out and manifested a ball of light once again.