strokinit Chapter 67: Has the wind shifted?
Chapter 67: Has the wind shifted?
For the next few days, Beijing was unusually quiet.
As the weather turned out, the chill of late spring subsided slightly, and the tips of the willow trees along Qianmen Street began to show hints of green.
The main gate of the Lu residence was kept closed to visitors, with only a side gate open for entry and exit for shopping.
Without the fighting and killing of the martial arts world, life slowed down, revealing a unique sense of order and everyday life characteristic of the Peking Opera world.
Every day before dawn, around the fourth watch of the night, as soon as the pigeon whistles sounded from the front gate tower, there would be commotion in the backyard.
"Warm up your voice!"
Zhou Daikui, wearing a cotton-padded coat and holding a board, stood at the base of the wall.
Shunzi, Xiaodouzi, and their newly accepted apprentices lined up in a row, facing the empty courtyard wall, exhaling white breath and shouting "Ah—ah—".
This is called "shouting out the throat," which means exhaling the stale air in your chest and raising the energy from your lower abdomen.
Lu Cheng sat on a rattan chair under the eaves, his knees covered with the black sable coat, holding a pot of strong tea in his hands. He seemed to be resting with his eyes closed, but in reality, he was "listening".
With the foundation of [Tiger and Leopard Thunder Sound] and [Dark Strength], his hearing is a hundred times more sensitive than that of ordinary people.
"Little Bean, your breath has dissipated. Don't just strain your throat, use your stomach. Imagine there's a bellows below your belly button!" Lu Cheng said casually without even lifting his eyelids.
Little Bean was startled and stuck out his tongue. He quickly lowered his waist and sat down, and his voice immediately became a few degrees deeper.
After vocal practice, it's time for breakfast.
The breakfast table at the Lu family's house is now very lavish.
In addition to the large amounts of meat and fish necessary for martial arts training, Lu Laogen also specially sent someone to the alley entrance to buy authentic "douzhi" (fermented mung bean juice) and "jiaoquan" (fried dough rings).
The grayish-green soy milk, steaming hot, had a sour, rancid smell that hit you right in the head.
Apart from Lu Laogen and Lu Cheng, the two old Beiping residents, who were drinking with great relish, Lu Feng and his gang of kids were all pinching their noses, as if they were taking medicine.
"Drink them all."
Lu Cheng put down his chopsticks and wiped the pickled vegetable shreds from the corner of his mouth.
"Although this soy milk has a strong flavor, it's good for clearing heat and soothing the stomach. You guys eat a lot of meat and fish every day, so you have too much internal heat. If you don't drink this to calm it down, you'll get nosebleeds sooner or later."
With a bitter face, Lu Feng picked up the bowl, his expression more resolute than if he were going to fight someone on stage. He tilted his head back and gulped it down, then quickly stuffed a fried dough ring into his mouth to calm his nerves.
Watching the group of teenagers wolfing down their food, Lu Cheng's eyes softened with a gentle smile.
This is life.
It was the peace and security he risked his life for.
After eating, it's time to practice martial arts.
But in the past two days, Lu Cheng has neither taught them how to fight nor practiced how to kill.
He had several plum blossom stakes erected in the courtyard, and then placed several large porcelain bowls filled with water on the stakes.
"Today we're not practicing anything else, we're practicing 'lightness'."
Lu Cheng took off his long robe and changed into a neat set of training clothes, wearing thin-soled fast boots.
He leaped lightly onto the plum blossom stakes.
He walked on the thick wooden stake as if it were flat ground, and when he passed the porcelain bowl filled with water, he simply touched the rim of the bowl with his toes and passed by.
The water surface didn't even ripple.
"A martial arts actor must not only possess a murderous aura, but also an air of nobility."
Lu Cheng stood on the stake, his posture as upright as a pine tree, his voice clear and melodious.
"We're opera singers; we can't always carry the smell of blood on us."
"You must internalize this skill into your movements and every gesture."
"When you can run a lap on this stake without spilling a drop of water from the bowl, that's when you've truly mastered the power to the bone marrow and can control it at will."
Lu Feng, that little wolf cub, was the most competitive and was the first to jump up.
Before he could take two steps, "crash!" he stepped on and overturned the porcelain bowl, spilling water all over the ground, and almost fell flat on his face.
"fool!"
Lu Cheng didn't scold him; instead, Ah Bing chuckled beside him.
Ah Bing can see a little now, and he's in a great mood, sitting down to play the erhu.
"Master Lu is right, this is called 'having a tiger in one's heart but sniffing a rose in the other'."
"You bunch of kids are too wild, you need to rein yourselves in."
"Come, walk to my music."
When Ah Bing drew his bow, the sound was no longer the clanging of swords and the clashing of spears, but rather a melodious and gentle tune called "Little Opening Gate".
The sound of the zither flowed like water through the courtyard in early spring.
As Lu Cheng listened to the music and watched the children's clumsy yet diligent movements on the stakes, the murderous intent that had been stirring within him due to the fusion of the "True Meaning of the White Tiger" gradually subsided.
A balance of strength and gentleness.
This is not only a principle of boxing, but also a way of life.
If you keep that murderous string taut all the time, it will snap sooner or later.
Only in these everyday moments, filled with the warmth of life, can we slowly nurture and preserve that "spirit."
……
At midday, the sun was shining brightly, making people feel warm and cozy.
Lu Cheng returned to his study, spread out Xuan paper, and prepared the ink.
He needs quiet.
I need to put what I've learned over the past few days into my mind through writing.
The next day at noon.
Lu Cheng was practicing calligraphy in his study.
He wrote Yan Zhenqing's "Duobao Pagoda Stele", which emphasizes moderation and harmony, with its sharpness concealed within.
This was also Li Sanye's suggestion, saying that practicing calligraphy could cultivate one's temperament and temper his excessive sharpness.
But these past few days, Lu Cheng's calligraphy practice has not been peaceful.
On the corner of the table were several copies of the "Shuntian Times" and "Beijing Daily" that Shunzi had just bought from the street.
The front page headline is no longer the recently hyped "Master Lu's Boxing Suppresses Fengtian," but has shifted its focus.
The title was so thick and bold, it was really jarring to look at.
"How Can the Peking Opera World Be Allowed to Grow Wildly?" and "On the Divide Between Chinese Martial Arts and Traditional Opera: Don't Let the Stage Become a Fighting Ring!"
Although the article did not name names, it alluded to the recent turmoil, saying that some "brutes" had broken the rules of the Peking Opera world, turning the elegant art into a bloody brawl, which was a "regression of civilization" and a "restoration of the remnants of the Boxer Rebellion".
"A storm is brewing."
Lu Cheng put down his pen and looked out the window at the gloomy sky.
He knew in his heart that although the shot at Guanghe Tower had shocked the outlaws of the martial arts world, it had also startled the Westernized gentlemen and officials sitting in their offices.
These people are both afraid of chaos and concerned about saving face.
They needed Lu Cheng's knife to kill, but after killing someone and getting splattered with blood, they complained that the knife was too dirty and not "respectable" enough.
At this time, if a "civilized breeze" carrying the scent of cosmetics were to come from the south, it would naturally be a perfect match.
In the afternoon, the sunlight was somewhat lazy.
Lu Cheng was instructing Lu Feng on swordsmanship in the backyard when Shunzi rushed in, looking rather strange.
"Master, a vehicle has arrived outside. It looks...like a military vehicle."
"military vehicle?"
Lu Cheng sheathed his sword and stood there, his brows slightly furrowed. "Ma Dashuai's men?"
"Doesn't seem like it." Shunzi shook his head. "Looking at the license plate and the military uniform, it seems like... it's from the Fengtai military camp."
Fengtai Daying.
That's Commander Zhang's territory. He's the man Bai Feng, who's determined to kill Lu Cheng.
A golden light flashed in Lu Cheng's eyes, and a cold smile appeared on his lips.
Those who come with ill intentions will not come with good intentions.
"Please come in."