Beginning with the Ubume Bird Chapter 159

Chapter 159: Chapter 8: Feigned Madness Becomes Indistinguishable from Reality

“I never thought you'd return to Guangdong in this lifetime. Lei sure knows how to handle things.”

He said half of it, then waved his hand, “Ah, sit.”

Guan Yantao propped himself up and sat on the edge of the bed, with deep furrows on his forehead, sparse eyebrows, slack at the corners of his mouth, and two small, dark eyes.

“I'm afraid I won't make it through this time.”

After the old man finished speaking, both of them fell silent for a while.

Li Yan sat down on the chair with a thump, his hands clasped together, saying nothing.

Guan Yantao smiled silently, his mouth and chin forming a dark T-shape. It looked somewhat terrifying.

“Coming back to stay for good?”

“Sold the school, I'll leave after I've finished what I need to do.”

The old man grunted and scrutinized Li Yan for a long while before finally exhaling deeply.

“Today, the only person I can talk to and feel at ease is you.”

He paused, then said, “When Li Chenglin first arrived in Guangdong to pay his respects, he should have come to me. Why did he go to Lei Hongsheng?”

“My father sought you first; your people were too overbearing.”

Li Yan said indifferently.

Guan Yantao narrowed his eyes slightly, displeased, “My people overbearing? Heh, perhaps.”

Changing the subject, he continued, “But your old man followed Lei Hongsheng for ten years, and what did it get him? Without my word, who would acknowledge Li's Martial Arts School?”

“Right, you all…” Li Yan fiddled with his fingers, turned his face away, his tone sinister, “never acknowledged it even until my dad died.”

Guan Yantao's expression turned stern, and he spoke falteringly, “I'm ninety and can still eat two bowls of rice. Your dad was only in his forties, a wrongful death.”

He wanted to say more, but a violent cough overtook him. Coughing, he extended a finger.

“Under the pillow, you, cough, take a look.”

Li Yan lifted the pillow and found an invitation sealed with fire lacquer. Judging by the date of the posting, it was written three years prior.

He opened it and quickly scanned the contents.

Essentially, Guan Yantao of Hongsheng Ancestral Hall was acting as guarantor, inviting various martial arts schools in Guangdong to participate in the opening ceremony for the new head of Li's Martial Arts School.

Three years ago, with Li Chenglin newly deceased, the new head referred to Li Yan.

The old man's eyes were dull, “When a person dies, it's like a lamp going out. At that time, I wrote invitations, asking the local martial arts schools to support you.”

“But what I didn't expect was that shortly after Cheglin's death, right after you removed your mourning cap, you went door to door challenging schools. From Foshan to Guangzhou, nineteen martial arts schools in total, you confronted each one and smashed their school signs. You completely cut yourself off from the martial arts community in Guangdong.”

“By the time I received the news, you were already on the train back to the North.”

Li Yan put the invitation away neatly and set it on the table, “I appreciate the thought.”

The old man pointed a shaking finger at Li Yan, “If you'd had a bit more patience, even if you'd acted later, your father's lifelong wish would have been fulfilled. You damned kid!”

Li Yan shook his head nonchalantly:

“Old men sometimes do foolish things. If he were alive, I, as his son, would have to grit my teeth and support him no matter what. But once a person is gone, you can't keep making the same mistakes. The dumbest thing my dad did in his life was to mingle with people like you for ten years and still be fixated on starting a martial arts school.”

Guan Yantao's face grew angry, “You scoundrel, is that how you talk about your own father?”

Li Yan laughed heartily, “He's broken dozens of canes beating me from childhood until the day he died. I've endured it without even dodging; shouldn't I be allowed to criticize him a little?”

“Scoundrel! Unfilial!”

The old man's lips quivered; he stared at Li Yan's piercing eyes, seeming somewhat deflated.

After a moment of silence, Guan Yantao asked Li Yan, “What are you planning to do with your return this time?”

“For official matters, my junior sister understands better than me. And there's no need for me to take real action. I am merely here as a gesture of good will.”

The old man closed his eyes and shook his head, “That lad who fights with chain punches isn't bad, but he still falls short of you back in the day. To use a phrase from the North, he can't 'flatten' the Chinese Martial Arts Association.”

“At sixteen I wasn't his match; you're the one who's mistaken, old man.”

The old man did not want to linger on this issue with Li Yan. He went on, “I don't have many days left. In over ninety years, I've taught all I could. The only true learner has been you.”

“I dare not. You have had thousands of disciples. I'm not worth mentioning.”

Li Yan remained as aloof as before.

Guan Yantao frowned at his words:

“Hmph, Zhou Lita has deep roots in the Association, but it wouldn't take much effort for me to have him step down. It's the same with your junior sister!”

Li Yan was neither hurried nor angry; he leaned back and crossed his legs:

“Of course, Elder Guan commands such respect. Just a word from you and my old man struggled for ten years without breaking through. You're impressive.”

“However, today I'd like to ask you to say the word again and see if I can make it on my own,” Li Yan challenged.

The nearly seventy-year age difference between the two did nothing to dilute the acrimony in their brief exchange.

Guan Yantao slammed his hand on the table, unable to contain his anger, “I've already shown you the invitation; what more do you want from me? Should I kneel to Li Chenglin?”

Li Yan's eyes bulged, “I just don't understand, you're so sentimental about the past, yet my dad spent ten years in Guangdong. Doesn't that count for something? You wait until a person dies before you're willing to write a note? What, should I be grateful and teary-eyed?”

Li Yan's gaze seemed to provoke Guan Yantao.

“You blame me… Why don't you blame Lei Hongsheng for his lack of ability? He promised to build a martial arts school for your father, to have all the martial arts masters of Guangzhou as company. Did he deliver?”

“He, Lei, goes on and on about there being no distinction between the martial arts of the north and the south. You trained under him, but did he teach you a single move? I did!”

The old man was extremely agitated, “Who taught you your grappling skills? Who found you a teacher for your White Crane stances and post training? You blame me?!”

Guan Yantao suddenly began to cough violently. He gasped for breath, drowning out the sound of the machines.

After a long while, the old man struggled to speak:

“I was annoyed at your father for losing face in the Hongsheng community. But, I was delighted, for he had a son as talented as you.”

Li Yan's face was splattered with spit; he lowered his head to wipe his face.

After a good while, he clicked his tongue:

“That's all in the past. I don't blame you for what happened. There's no way for me to repay your past kindness in teaching. Let's leave it be, all confused as it is.”

Guan Yantao stared at the back of Li Yan's head for quite a while, “Zhou Lita or Lei, it doesn't matter. The chairmanship of the Chinese Martial Arts Association, you can have it for her, I can give.”

“…And what's the condition?”

The old man fixed his gaze on Li Yan, “On the day I die, you stand at the very front, to support my spirit.”

A peculiar look flashed in Li Yan's eyes, and he was silent for a long time.

The next afternoon, led by the Cai Li Boxing Association, a large number of Southern traditional martial arts masters spoke out, supporting Lei Hongsheng's granddaughter Lei Jing to succeed him as the president of the Chinese Martial Arts Association.

Last night, Chairman Chang of the Southern Sports Federation, who had pointed out at the seminar that “we must resolutely eliminate nepotism; the Chinese Martial Arts Association is not a one-man show, nor can it be hereditary,” publicly stated the following day, “The development and succession of our country's traditional martial arts need more young blood, the association needs a young person with vigor… ”

A brilliant display of faces, one after another.

Lei Jing graciously stepped down, Zhou Lita was full of schemes. Yet, before the show even started, the curtain had already fallen. The two hadn't even come to blows, but the winner was already clear.

Having gotten her way, Lei Jing planned to invite Li Yan and Zhang Mingyuan to meet, but was rejected by Li Yan.

“In a couple of days, I can't right now.”

“Then, how long do you need?”

“The later, the better.”

Ten days later.

The rain had been continuous for days. Rain beat against the peach blossoms, scattered petals fluttered outside the window.

Muffled crying echoed through the corridor. By the old man's bedside stood his only son returned from business overseas, Guan Shanyue, and Li Yan.

“When I celebrated my eightieth birthday, I composed a couplet for myself: Confident I've lived without regret, only in death dare I face heaven. Haha! They dare not write it themselves, fearing the word 'death'. I do not fear it.”

“In '44 on Wende Road, I shot the provincial governor of the Wang Puppet Government, Chen Yaozu. I was shot in the chest myself; the bullet casing was difficult to remove, and it's still in me to this day. Dayan, would you say I'm tough?”

The old man's throat bobbed. His gaze became distant.

“In '48, Mr. Ye served as dean and political commissar of the North China Military and Political University. I escorted him to its headquarters in Shijiazhuang, Hebei. I stayed there for two years. Dayan, just name a few, any of the well-known old generals from your area, I know them.”

“Dad, rest a bit.”

Guan Shanyue, his hair a mix of black and white, urged him.

“In '70, I wrote a letter, I wrote a letter to…”

Guan Yantao's breath grew short.

“Old Master,” Li Yan held the old man's hand with both of his.

“Let go of the past.”

“Let go? I cannot,” Guan Yantao mumbled to himself.

“Then another ten years passed, and now I'm over ninety. You ask me if I fear death, I'm indeed frightened. Have I gotten cowardly? No.”

“I have matters I'm ashamed of, I can't ask heaven after I'm dead. I owe an apology to your father, and I want to own up to it. But to apologize for one thing, it leads to another. It seems, all through these ninety-something years, I wasn't as straightforward as I thought. So, I might as well not own up to anything.”

“I have a fiery temper; I've always had the final say. When Shanyue's mother passed away so early, I've always wondered if it was because of me…”

“When I was young, I read quite a bit. I remember a line, 'feigned madness hard to distinguish from reality'. Feigned madness hard to distinguish from reality.”

The old man's grip tightened.

“Dayan, tell me, in this life, have I feigned madness until it became real?”

His fingers gradually slipped away. Guan Yantao closed his eyes.

The air felt thick as if squeezed, and soon after, a chorus of crying broke out inside and outside.

Li Yan hung his head in silence.

Outside the window, the petals had all fallen, amidst floating water, the persistent rain pattered against the fallen peach blossoms.

Chapter end