Chương 27: Siblings Are A Pain

My brother was slim to the point of scrawny, looked about my same age, and was from the Guangzhou province of China, so my mother had some explaining to do. Mr. Cheng insisted that he would be my training partner and in that sense, my "brother". You know, asking for a brother had never made it onto my Christmas list. A ferret, a trampoline, a sister– yes, but not a brother. According to movies, all they ever did was bully you and I'd gotten enough of that from the rest of the world.

But this could be my opportunity to forge a good friendship, maybe practice my people skills. So I looked him in the eyes and smiled, stretching out my hand.

"I'm Cass." He glanced at my hand, looked at Mr. Cheng, and with pursed lips shook my hand with his. His grip squeezed my hand tightly; afterwards, I checked to see if my fingers were more bent than straight.

"Wu Tianyu." They had such nice simple names in China. Wu, Mei, Li. English had to pack them full of consonants like with Christopher and Cassandra.

"Nice to meet you, Wu." He rolled his eyes and muttered something in Mandarin under his breath. Laushu snapped at him in the same language. Wu bowed his head and turned to me.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He had no accent unless you counted his flat emotionless tone. Mr. Cheng took out a thin, long stick, probably a small branch taken from one of the surrounding trees, and held it in his hands.

"First, we will work on balance. That is the most important aspect to everything I will teach you and it is the key to excelling in all martial arts. You are both extremely out of balance. So we will start with the proper fighting stance." Mr. Cheng walked around us, looking over our forms, correcting our balance. To be more specific, he corrected my balance. Wu stood in the exact proper way; I, however, needed direction.

"Your legs are too close together, widen your stance." Laushu's thin stick flicked out to strike my calf. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wu's lips twitch in a smirk.

"Better. Now follow my example. Raise your arm and draw a circle with your hand like this." His hand arced gracefully through the air, arms bending and flowing like water. My arms funneled like I was trying to play the windmill in an elementary school play.

"No. You are too stiff. Your breathing is stiff, your balance is stiff, even your arms are stiff. You fling your arms out straight and spin them around like a drunk bird. You must bend your arms." Next to me, Wu burst with an outright laugh and he wasn't trying to keep it secret. There are few things in life as pleasurable as watching people get their comeuppance. Mr. Cheng spun to glare at Wu.

"You think you are better? It's easier to fill her empty cup with wine than yours that's already half full with water. You move too fast and have no sense of your chi. Even Ben Niao," –he pointed at me– "has better timing." Laushu took a step back.

"Now start again." I bent my elbows and waved my hand in a circle like he showed us.

"No. That's too much. Your arms must be curved like a circle is curved. Wu your arm is bent like a triangle." Mr. Cheng slapped a hand over his face and groaned.

"Stop. Let's start from the beginning. You two sit down and I will demonstrate and explain." Feet spread wide and arms bent, his hand glided in large circles around his body, similar to how he had moved when he threw the hulk. Flowing like a dancer, yet with power articulating the movements.

"Ben Niao, sit down and practice your breathing while you listen. Wu, you can join her. I assume your grandfather taught you how to breathe correctly." We both dropped to a sitting position onto the emerging tufts of grass that made up the lawn around Mr. Cheng's building. My eyes closed, my lungs filling with air as wide as they could go. I counted out the seconds, feeling the breeze of the moist air tinged with the heat of sunlight on my face.

The sounds of cars and the bickering of pedestrians gentled to a general haze that felt a part of the nature surrounding me, not a contrast to it. Except for one noise. A loud huffing sound came from my right which wasn't so easy to meld with my garden setting. I cracked open my right eyelid to sneak a peek. Wu's face was no longer tan but red, his eyes glaring at Laushu as his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's. He was ready to breathe fire, not meditate. Mr.

Cheng spoke as he moved, his voice flowing gently from his mouth just like the motion of his body.

"The circle is a key part of the natural world. It is in everything, from the largest spinning galaxies to the swirls of your fingerprints. There is beauty and power in it. You must be like the earth as it circles the sun, always spinning. The whole sky moves in circles and so will you. Now stand and try again." I took my wide stance in front of Mr. Cheng and began again slower and more carefully. Laushu slowed his movements to match my own, but Wu kept speeding up.

"Good, Ben Niao. Slow is always best to start, form is everything." He glanced at Wu.

"You go too fast, there is no one to fight here. This is a time to improve."

"Brother" grit his teeth and reset his feet on the pavement. He had a professional look to him- his black hair shaved close to his head and wearing a white silk tunic with black pants in that kind of ancient Chinese style. He looked ready to be flying off of buildings, spinning in the air, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon style. His hands formed almost the same shapes as Laushu's, flat with the fingers pointing up in a way that made them almost sharp, clearly showing that he already had trained experience.

But his arms swung around his body fast, not at all like the deliberate flow of Mr. Cheng's.

"Stop, stop. Here is the other thing to understand, something you both need to know. There is yin-" Slow hands glided through the air like fish in water, artistically bending and turning in wide arcs. His movements suggested ease and peace.

"Yin is soft, circular, yielding, restful, feminine. Like the gentle flow of a stream." His limbs continued their delicate dance until suddenly he struck the air with a hard jab.

"This is yang. It is strong, sharp, direct, dynamic, masculine. You two know all about yang because you already have too much of it." My mouth hung open.

"Excuse me. You said yin is feminine- that means I already have plenty, thank you very much." You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Mr. Cheng's eyebrows raised as his hands returned to their previous soft movements.

"Not all girls do, and believe me, you are one of those that don't." I folded my arms in front of my chest, grumbling in a low voice while jerking my shoulder in Wu's direction, "More than him at least." Brother rolled his eyes.

"The thing to understand," Laushu continued, his arms still circling his body with fluid movement, occasionally interrupted by hard strikes.

"Is that you cannot have one without the other. Yin creates energy and yang spends it. Yin is delicate flow and yang is motion and force. Too much yang and there is no control and too much yin and there is not enough force. Both are necessary for balance." His body finally stilled, arms coming to rest at his side. Then he looked at us with sharp eyes.

"But since you both have too much yang, you are both out of balance. So we will need to concentrate solely on yin. Now, make your circles again." My feet locked into place, spread wide, wobbling a bit until they steadied. I pushed my hands out, up and then coming down, over and over in a circle. My hands tried to mimic the way Laushu's had moved, but they shoved through the air instead of gliding.

"This is not a contest to see who is faster. It is who can get the flow and the shape right. This is restful, gentle. You can do it in slow-motion. Pretend you have something small and fragile in your hands and the only way to keep it alive is to handle it as gently as possible." That got my hands to slow down finally. Bubbles were my thing as a kid, trying to blow them up as big as I could, the sudden pop of their implosion, watching the floating rainbow-colored shadows they made on the ground.

And being made from just soap and water, we could afford a lot of them. So I imagined the iridescent shine between my hands, feeling the transparent film underneath my fingers, and slowly stretched it out wide. As long as my hands remained delicate and soft, it wouldn't pop.

"Good, good. Now move your hands in a circle." I did this all the time as a kid: catch a falling bubble with your fingers, hoping it wouldn't break. As long as your hand was more soap than skin, it worked. Then you got to play with it. So I slid my fingers forward in a slow rounded arc, feeling the slippery slope of my ephemeral bubble. My hands stayed in a cupped position as they turned, as if I were holding the weight of the imaginary sphere, but keeping them pliable so as to not be too rough.

"Very good, Ben Niao. Now move it around your body, but make sure it stays safe." The rainbow colors in my bubble swirled around its skin, catching the light of the sun as I gently carried it over to my other side. As long as my hands moved delicately over its surface, up and down and side to side, it could last forever.

"Tianyu," Mr. Cheng said and my brow furrowed. Why was he calling Wu by his last name?

"Your hands are too fast. They are not blowing with the wind, they should be carried by a breeze." From the corner of my eye, Wu stood with his legs spread, fingers sharply pointed, rotating them around like a hamster wheel. It did look more like a martial art, fast-moving and hard as if he were about to strike someone. But apparently that wasn't the point. Brother's hands dropped, his stance straightened, fists clenching.

"This is pointless!" My bubble burst.

"This has nothing to do with fighting, this is barely more than yoga! No wonder she's good at it because the only thing she can break is one of her nails." I was inclined to think he said it in English just to make sure I perfectly understood his insults. Mr. Cheng looked at Wu.

"I have no doubt that your grandfather has taught you how to hit and strike. But he sent you to me because you need to learn other things. You are right that the things we are learning here will not make your kicks harder or your blows heavier, but they will keep your opponent's strikes from hitting you. Can you honestly say that has nothing to do with fighting?" Wu said nothing, but his eyes still glared in Laushu's direction.

"You could practice a thousand times to have the strongest strikes, and still, someone will always be bigger and stronger than you. If you do not know how to redirect their attacks, you will lose. The hardest punch can slip off your skin with what I can teach you, but I am not convinced that you can learn it." He pointed to me.

"I think she can." If I was the type of person to blush, I would have. Unfortunately, that had been beaten out of me from years of bullying. As it was, a small smile grew on my face. Brother's teeth grit together. His knees bent down, legs going wide, bringing one fist up near his face while his other extended forward. A fighting stance. Mr. Cheng continued to look at Wu with the same mild expression on his face.

"Very well. Come then, Zhutou." Great, more names to confuse me.

"Show me how far you have walked down the martial path." Laushu did not move. Like yesterday, his body stayed completely relaxed and stood with one hand resting against the small of his back. Wu took small steps forward and then yelled as he kicked his leg high. Lightning quick, it streamed through the air, but Mr. Cheng just took a small step back. Wu became a blur of blows, stepping forward, throwing punches and kicks at our teacher like he was trying to kill him.

Laushu's movements remained calm, turning the fight into a dance. Wu would strike, hand heading straight for his neck or a leg catapulting to his stomach, and Mr. Cheng would spin past his body, applying a gentle wrist against Wu's back to push him to the side. Of course, Laushu took this opportunity to teach.

"Notice how straight and direct his strikes are, Ben Niao. This makes his moves predictable. The fluid defensive yin forms are in constant motion and any strike from this position is sudden and difficult to prevent. Observe." Mr. Cheng finally dropped into a fighting stance. His hands spun in circles in front of him, but now instead of dodging around Wu's strikes, he knocked them to the side. A fist came for Laushu's face but he passed it over his shoulder. A kick towards his chest was pushed to the ground.

With each parry, Wu was thrown further and further off balance. His sweat-covered face was close to purple and I was getting a flashback from last night. Wu drew breath in large, heaving gasps, but he kept going. A first class jerk, no doubt, but he was persistent, at least. Mr. Cheng sighed.

"Enough. I am tired of this. You are ready for the end." Wu shook his head, eyes burning in his face as he stared at his opponent. He let out a battle cry that sounded like it came from the last breath he had, hand clenched tight and barreling straight for Mr. Cheng's face. Laushu stepped forward past the blow and struck the side of Wu's neck.

In the space of a second, his expression went from volcanic –veins popping out all over with an explosion of red scattering across as his voice burst from his lungs– to a coma patient. His mouth flopped open, raging eyes growing dull, and his scream became silent. Wu dropped like a marionette with its strings cut. His body hit the grass with a thud, rolled over twice, then came to a stop. There wasn't even a finger twitch after. Stepping away, Mr. Cheng didn't give him a second glance. He turned to me.

"Were you paying attention, Ben Niao?" My face probably wasn't all that different from what Wu's had been for a second there– eyes round as quarters, mouth slack and hanging, but I managed a nod.

"Yep. You kicked his butt." His hand slapped his face. He really should work on that. If he kept having that reaction around me, he was going to get a permanent hand print on his forehead. People would worry there was domestic violence going on.

"No child, not the beating. That was decided the moment a novice challenged a master. Did you see the shift from yin defense to a yang strike? That is very important." Honestly, it was mostly a blur, but I didn't feel like telling him that right now.

"I think so… but Laushu?"

"Yes, student?"

"I thought you said you weren't a master?" Mr. Cheng looked to the heavens for some help in dealing with me, muttering in Mandarin, then he lowered his head and his eyes locked onto mine.

"Ben Niao, no more foolish questions or I will not show you the chi strike to disable the arm today. Do you understand?" I nodded again, but then held a finger up.

"One more question: is Wu going to be okay?" Laushu waved a dismissive hand.

"He will sleep for an hour and then he will wake up with only a mild headache. It is the perfect remedy since he needed exactly both." My mouth turned down. I did not want to be here when brother woke up with his mild headache. My finger went up again.

"One more question." Laushu's hands brushed at his clothing.

"Ben Niao, stop saying that phrase if you don't mean it."

"Fine. Two more questions." He looked at me expectantly.

"Won't we have to wait for him to wake up before you can teach us?" Mr. Cheng shook his head, staring down at the prone body.

"These lessons are not for him." I imagined Wu's face if he saw me making those delicate strikes, those deathly precise touches. Pretty sure it would end up just like this, though I would be the one on the ground. But, apparently Laushu had faith in me.

"And?" He asked, stretching his hand out wide.

"And what?" Old man foreheads got smacked again. Why didn't he see this as a problem?

"Your second question?"

"Why do you keep hitting yourself? It's bad, it's wrong, you shouldn't do it. That wasn't the real question I wanted to ask– I'm just very concerned– so that means I get another. Can you explain all the Chinese names you've been dropping lately? Otherwise, I'm going to need subtitles." Mr. Cheng's hand flashed out and clipped the back of my head.

"You make a fine replacement for slapping myself when I am frustrated. Now follow me to the treatment room."