Chapter 155: Learning Martial Arts Without Mastering Its Spirit

2022-05-20

We followed Wang An to Ms. Zhao’s house.

Ms. Zhao was a woman in her fifties, her face lined with wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. But if you looked close, the gentle, refined air about her was still easy to see.

She glanced at us, seeming a bit surprised to see a group of twenty-somethings on her doorstep. Still, she greeted us warmly. “Didn’t expect such young visitors. Come on in. I was just making lunch. Why don’t you all stay and eat here later.”

As she spoke, Ms. Zhao caught sight of Guo Feng trailing behind us, his sweater dotted with little balls of yarn from the earlier chaos. Her brows knit together and tears welled in her eyes, but she forced herself to stay composed. “Xiao Feng, have those kids been bullying you again? You shouldn’t play with them, understand?”

Guo Feng, though, was delightfully oblivious to his mother’s sadness, beaming as he declared, “Mom, I want to catch bad guys too!”

Ms. Zhao nodded. “Of course! You can do anything you set your mind to. Now hurry and change into clean clothes. We’ll have something tasty soon.”

Overjoyed at the mention of good food, Guo Feng whooped and dashed into one of the rooms.

Ms. Zhao watched her son’s retreating figure, then turned to us. “When Guo Feng was little, he got a bad fever that left him with brain damage. The doctors said his mental capacity is about that of a four-year-old…”

Her voice faded and an awkward silence settled around us. I took in the details of her home—everything about the place said there was no man of the house. As a mother, though, that sadness was something we’d never truly feel. Ms. Zhao didn’t linger on the topic. Instead, she urged us to sit.

“I’ll go finish cooking. If you need anything or want to ask questions, just call out,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

We took our seats. Wang An sat across from us, strangely composed for a kid his age. “Uncle, what really happened? Why… why would my sister Fang Xiaoqi kill herself?”

I looked at Wang An but didn’t answer his question. Instead, I asked, “Tell me exactly, when you last left your house, who else was home?”

Wang An thought for a moment before answering. “When my dad brought me here, Zhao Xiaoli was still working out of town. My brother Du Zigui had already gone missing and hasn’t been seen since. My sister Fang Xiaoqi was still at home—when I left, she and Dad were there.”

Seeing the anxious look on Wang An’s face, I finally told him, “Your sister died yesterday, on New Year’s Eve. She jumped from Rainbow Bridge around ten o’clock at night.”

“But…” Wang An stood up abruptly, “My sister would never think about suicide. Even during the hardest years, she never tried to end her life. Why now?”

I went quiet for a while, then handed him Fang Xiaoqi’s suicide note.

Even though he was only around second grade level, Wang An recognized all the words. There weren’t any hard characters. As he finished reading, tears the size of pearls rolled down his cheeks, like a necklace with a broken string. Guan Zengbin quickly pulled him into a hug—even if Wang An had seen too much for his age, he was still just a child.

But Wang An wriggled out of Guan Zengbin’s arms and declared, “I’m fine.”

Even so, we could all see him biting back tears. “My sister Fang Xiaoqi would never kill herself. If she did, someone must have made her do it.”

He looked stubborn, determined in a way that was far beyond his years. I asked, “So why did your father send you here? Did something happen in between?”

“It had to be those three.” His eyes burned with anger. “A month and a half ago, three men came to my house looking for my dad. Dad was out looking for work, so only me and Sister Fang Xiaoqi were at home. They pushed through the yard gate, but we didn’t open the house door.”

“The three of them yelled at us for ages. Then they threw rocks and shattered our window. I was furious. I grabbed a kitchen knife and ran outside. Instead of backing away, they just kept cursing at me and my sister.”

Wang An’s jaw tensed as he recounted the moment. “They said awful things. I got so mad.”

He was still visibly angry as he spoke. “I learned martial arts from my dad from a very young age. I know how to use my fists and a blade. I’m not afraid of guys like them. My dad always taught me that as a man, you protect the women in your family. He said if you can’t even protect your loved ones, how can you protect anyone else?”

“So.” Wang An’s chest heaved. “I chopped one of their arms with the kitchen knife. The man screamed and tried to grab the knife from me. But how could I, someone trained in martial arts, let anyone snatch my weapon? I slashed his arm again, then the three of them turned tail and ran.”

Watching this tough nine-year-old, it was hard to picture him swinging a kitchen knife at someone. We’d already seen Wang An’s fierce side downstairs. If those kids hadn’t been so quick on their feet, he probably would’ve beaten them up. Still, with friends, Wang An was gentle and patient.

None of us spoke for a while.

Eventually, I broke the silence. “Did they say anything before they left?”

Wang An answered seriously. “They said it wasn’t over and they’d be back. They even threatened to burn down our house.”

By now, I was nearly certain it was Zhang Bin and his crew who’d burned down Hao Ren’s place. Just to be sure, I took out photos of the three and asked, “Are these the guys?”

Wang An nodded firmly.

He even pointed out which one he’d injured. It was Zhang Bin, the ringleader.

“Did you see them again after that? Did you ever see your sister after that day?” I pressed.

Wang An shook his head dejectedly. “I haven’t seen any of them, or my sister or brother, since that day. That night, I told Dad what happened, but instead of praising me, he scolded me. He said this isn’t what martial artists do—that I’d only learned his skills, but not the true spirit behind them.”

Wang An suddenly looked lost. “But I told Dad, they were the ones who started it. They smashed our windows and insulted us. I didn’t do anything wrong. But Dad said I have too much anger in me, that I needed to go somewhere else to learn calm. After that, he sent me to live with Ms. Zhao.”

He ducked his head. “But I don’t get it. I don’t know what Dad means. What is ‘too much anger’? How am I supposed to learn to be calm?”

I glanced at the bruises on Wang An’s face—obviously from fighting. Explaining what ‘too much anger’ meant to a kid his age was pointless.

I pressed on. “So you haven’t seen your family at all since then?”

Wang An nodded. “At first, Dad called every day. After half a month, he called less and less. Within a month, he stopped calling altogether. It’s been over two weeks since then—now it’s already New Year’s.”

I frowned. From what we’d learned, the internet café owner said three thieves asked him for Hao Ren’s address, while the car shop boss said they’d gone looking for Du Zigui. The timing matched up. All of it happened about a month and a half ago. After that, no one had seen the three thieves or Hao Ren.

So what exactly happened after that? Why did everyone suddenly vanish?

From Wang An’s story, we now knew the feud with Hao Ren had escalated seriously. If before there was a chance to make peace, the moment Wang An hacked at someone with a knife things got out of hand. Judging by his words, he hadn’t held back either.

After that, the grudge was set in stone. Zhang Bin had always been a shifty, vicious sort—never let a slight go unpunished. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come after Hao Ren the moment he got out of the detention center. Now that Wang An had cut his arm, he’d only want revenge more. Maybe Hao Ren sent Wang An to Ms. Zhao’s house because he feared for his son’s safety.

If Hao Ren had left, then when those three thugs returned to Taishan Temple Alley, maybe only Fang Xiaoqi was at home. Would they have done something terrible to her? But the ‘he’ in Fang Xiaoqi’s suicide note clearly wasn’t any of the three. So who could it be?

Or maybe it was all just a coincidence and the three had nothing to do with Fang Xiaoqi’s death.

Maybe we should check recent medical records for Zhang Bin. After all, a kitchen knife wound isn’t something you fix at home. He’d probably need stitches. If so, we could track him through hospital records.

With that in mind, I told Wang An, “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of what happened to your sister.”

But Wang An waved me off. “It had to be them. No need to check. Just catch them and bring them to me. Or just give me their address—I’ll tear them to pieces myself.”

Just then, Guo Feng popped out and overheard the last bit. He clapped and cheered, “Tear them to pieces! Tear them to pieces!”

Guo Feng’s shout echoed through the house and Ms. Zhao, who was still in the kitchen, heard every word. Carrying a dish into the living room, she scolded the two boys, “You two, clean up your rooms before you eat. You hear me?”

Guo Feng looked a little reluctant, but Wang An grabbed his hand and pulled him off down the hall.