| Fan Fiction |
by Melanie
MASTER'S UNDERGROUND LAIR
Dragging Sui Han along, Lun uses his lightness kung fu to speed down the maze of dark tunnels, randomly turning left and then right, trying to lose the Master, who rapidly approaches from behind.
Spying an alcove ahead, Lun quickly shoves Sui Han into the small enclosure. Then, whirling around, he leaps up into the air and meets the Master's oncoming palms. A force field generated by the clash of internal energy ripples outward, forming invisible concentric waves, knocking back the small band of assassins trailing behind the Master.
As the Master and Lun break away from each other, both somersault twice in the air and land several paces apart. Unsheathing his sword, Lun flies forward, aiming to the right. As the Master flips to the left, he twirls his zither rapidly, before sending the slender instrument spinning through the air. The zither catapults straight toward Lun. Executing a series of backflips to avoid the zither, Lun then stabs his sword tip vertically into the ground.
Suspended above his weapon, Lun kicks the zither back to the Master. Distracting the Master for a few seconds, Lun, while still suspended in the air, bears down on this sword. The belly of the blade bends slightly from the force, before springing back into its original shape, thus catapulting Lun toward the Master again at lightening speed. Raising his sword, Lun flashes the tip briefly upward before striking down toward the Master's midsection.
In retaliation, the Master flips his zither horizontally, supporting it with his left arm. With a flick of his fingers, he plucks at the taut cords, sending a burst of internal energy forward toward his opponent.
Unable to pierce the invisible energy force generated by the zither music, Lun retreats. Sensing Lun's imminent defeat, the band of assassins surges forward, attacking Lun from all directions. Spinning vertically up toward the roof of the tunnel, Lun grabs onto a small ledge jutting out from a corner of the ceiling. Twirling his sword swiftly in a series of circles, he creates enough force to cause a shower of debris and small rocks to rain down on the assassins.
As his men scatter to avoid the cascade of rocks, the Master smirks. "Hmph, very impressive, Young Master Lam. My men outnumber you ten to one, and yet, you manage to send them running. Your father has taught you well, I see. But regardless, you won't be leaving here today alive. I cannot risk you telling others about the location of my underground lair."
Without warning, the Master throws his zither across the tunnel toward Sui Han, who is hovering by the entrance of the alcove, observing the fight between Lun and the Master. Seeing the approach of the instrument, Sui Han leaps aside, narrowly avoiding injury.
"Sui Han!" Lun calls out in alarm.
Because of those few seconds of distraction, Lun suffers a blow on the shoulder from the Master. Losing his grip on the ledge, Lun crashes down, suffering serious internal injury.
Landing onto the hard ground, Lun looks up just in time to see the Master flying toward him rapidly. Suddenly, a rain of silver needles shoot forward, forcing the Master to twist sideways.
Running out from the alcove, Sui Han drags Lun's heavy weight up and totters unsteadily with him toward the small alcove. "Hurry, First Young Master!"
From behind, the Master flies forward again, with arms outstretched. Glancing back, Lun thrusts his sword through the air, temporarily holding back his opponent. Pushing Sui Han into the alcove first, he flies in after her. From within the alcove, he raises his arms toward the roof, using his internal energy to send a cascade of small boulders to rain down on the entrance, closing off the opening of the small alcove.
Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Lun clutches at his chest as a searing pain rips through his body, nearly rendering him unconscious. Dropping to his knees, he blinks rapidly to clear his vision.
"First Young Master!" Sui Han rushes to his side, trying to catch him before he collapses to the ground.
However, Lun's weight is too heavy for her, and she falls on top of him as he crashes onto his back.
"First Young Master! First Young Master!" Sui Han shakes his shoulders, as she scrambles to crouch beside him.
"Ugh!" Lun gasps as another sharp arrow of pain tears through him. Staring up at Sui Han's blurry image, he reaches up, his hand grazing her cheek. "Sui Han…" He mutters. "I think that wall of rocks will hold them back for a while, but they'll find a way to knock it down soon."
Nodding in understanding, Sui Han drags Lun over to the far end of the alcove. "You rest for a while, First Young Master."
Leaning tiredly against the wall, Lun shakes his head. "There's no time to rest. I'm going to meditate. Hopefully, I'll recover enough internal energy by the time they break through the alcove opening." Holding her hand, he looks earnestly at her. "Sui Han, when they break down that wall, I want you to run while I distract them."
His words seem to chip away at the wall she carefully built around her heart. Looking away quickly, she slips her hand out of his grasp. "First Young Master, I'm not worth dying for," she murmurs. Glancing back at him, she notices that he has fallen fast asleep from exhaustion despite his intention to meditate. Staring at his sleeping face for one long minute, Sui Han finally stands up and gives him one last look. "But for saying those words, you shall have my gratitude and friendship for life. Thank you, First Young Master." She whispers solemnly.
**********
Meanwhile, outside the alcove, the Master leaps toward the pile of small boulders closing off the entrance. As his palms contact the surface of the wall of tumbled rocks, the wall rumbles and shifts slightly. However, the pile of granite remains stubbornly intact. Somersaulting backward, he lands a few paces away. Cultivating his internal energy, he prepares to leap through the air toward the wall once more but is interrupted as one of his followers run up to him.
Kneeling before the Master, the assassin clasps his hands together in a gesture of respect. "Master, we have found the location of the Sword of Sun."
This bit of news causes the Master to swivel around rapidly. "The Sword of Sun?!" As the information sinks in, his lips slowly curl upward. A gurgle escapes from his mouth until the sound becomes a full cackle. "Hahaha! Finally! After all these years, the Sword of Sun shall be mine!" He roars with glee, his eyes glittering maniacally behind the mask. Finally, he calms down. "Where is it?"
"Our spies report hearing about the Sword of Sun in a place called Green Python Valley. It appears to be kept in a secluded cave, guarded by an elderly couple." The assassin replies. "Master, would you like us to go fetch the sword for you?"
Raising his hand, the Master interrupts his follower. "There is no need. I will go myself. Nothing can stop me from possessing that sword." Glancing back at the alcove, he jerks his head at the wall. "Find a way to break down that wall. When I come back, I want to find two dead bodies." Staring steadily at the assassins, he adds in a deceptively soft voice, "Don't disappoint me."
With those words, the Master flips into the air, his figure rapidly disappearing from sight.
WEST LAKE PROVINCE
Gong! Gong! Gong!
The crash of the cymbal reverberates loudly down the dark alley as a lone man dressed in tidy, but simple, robes slowly calls out the hour of night. "Three hours past midnight! Three hours past midnight!"
Gong! Gong! Gong!
The cymbal crashes again as the man continues his path down the deserted street. As the echo of the cymbal fades into the distance, silence takes over, blanketing the street like a heavy curtain. Rows of shops and homes neatly line the road on both sides, their entrances boarded up securely for the night. Slivers of moonlight peak through the dark veil of clouds, bouncing off the wooden houses and casting pale shadows onto the gray cobblestone road. A flock of pigeon clusters around some breadcrumbs at one corner of the street, pecking wildly, cooing as they enjoy their meal.
From within the darkness, two horses burst onto the path, their hooves pounding on the ground urgently, dispersing the pigeons, which frantically flutter away. Two riders, one young and handsome, the other more mature and distinguished, gallop to a stop in front of an inn grandly decorated with red lanterns. The inn's lacquer-trimmed eaves, double doors, and windowpanes glisten in the moonlight.
"Heel! Heel!" The young man commands his black stallion, pulling on the reins expertly.
Rearing up slightly on his hind legs, the horse neighs, his snout quivering as he bares his teeth, his hooves dancing briefly on the cobblestone. Agilely leaping down from the steed, the young man leads the animal toward the side of the inn and secures the reins to a thick pillar.
Walking back toward the older man still astride the second stallion, the young man clasps his hands together in a gesture of respect and bows his head. "Your Majesty, we have arrived at the Red Lantern Inn. General Law and his son will be meeting up with us here in the morning."
Nodding, the Emperor, distinguished in a long, dark blue robe, glances toward the inn's entrance. "Then we shall rest here for the remainder of the night." Alighting from the stallion, the Emperor hands the reins over to the young man. "Marquis Ching, it's best to refer to me as Uncle from here on. I am here to personally see who is the mastermind behind the multiple assassination attempts on my loyal and prominent court officials, and I do not want to attract unwanted attention."
"Yes, Uncle." The young Marquis murmurs. Tying the Emperor's white steed next to his black one, Marquis Ching Bong leads the way into the Red Lantern Inn.
RED LANTERN INN
A burst of warmth envelops them as the gleaming black lacquer doors of the inn swing open to reveal a spacious lobby furnished with burgundy lacquer round tables polished so meticulously that their surfaces glisten like mirrors. Silken panels hand-painted with scenes of majestic mountains, lofty clouds, heavenly cranes, fair maidens, and handsome scholars grace the lobby, strategically placed to allow guests at each table privacy from others. Paper-thin red lanterns dangle from the ceiling, a single candle flickering from within each lantern, its glowing flame hazy through the lacy covering of the lantern, flooding the room with a dreamy, romantic light.
Despite the late hour, a few patrons still linger at the tables, sipping warm wine, conversing in hushed tones. The innkeeper, spotting two well-dressed guests hovering near the entrance, hurriedly rushes forward.
Arriving in front of the newcomers, the elderly innkeeper bows respectfully. "May I be of service to you, Masters?"
"Yes, we would like two deluxe rooms, the best you have in this inn." Ching Bong steps forward and discreetly drops a gold ingot into the innkeeper's hand.
Staring at the ingot greedily, the innkeeper could practically feel the drool pool in his mouth. He nearly trips over himself trying to please these two obviously wealthy guests. "Certainly! Certainly, Masters! We are the best inn in West Lake Province! Why, our rooms are fit for an emperor!" He boasts proudly with a sweeping gesture of his hand to indicate the grandeur of Red Lantern Inn.
The Emperor grimaces slightly at the elderly innkeeper's overly enthusiastic response to the gold ingot.
Beside the Emperor, Marquis Ching, clears his throat awkwardly. "Erm…yes. We can see that this is indeed an excellent inn. My uncle and I are very tired from traveling and would like to be shown to our rooms as soon as possible."
"Haha. Yes, yes, of course! Please come this way, Masters!" The innkeeper stutters excitedly. Stepping to one side, the old man bows respectfully, extending his arm toward the long winding staircase.
As Ching Bong and the Emperor follow the innkeeper up the stairs to their rooms, the door to the room immediately below the staircase opens. A tall man dressed completely in white walks out. Going to the room adjacent to his, Lap Chun knocks lightly on Suk Yu's door.
"Miss Suk Yu? Miss Suk Yu?" Frowning slightly, he listens closely. He thought he heard movement and then the sound of her door opening just a minute ago. Therefore, he wants to check on her to make sure she is all right. "Miss Suk Yu?" Lap Chun knocks more firmly this time.
Silence greets him from the other side of the room. Concerned, he gently pushes at Suk Yu's door. As the door swings open, Lap Chun notes the neatly made bed and the untouched dinner on the table. "Where could she be?" He mutters irritably to himself, more out of worry than anger. "She is blind and wandering around alone."
Closing the door swiftly, Lap Chun hurries down the corridor toward the courtyard at the rear of the Red Lantern Inn, hoping to find Suk Yu there.
MEANWHILE…
MARQUIS CHING BONG'S INN ROOM
Ching Bong leans over the washbasin beside the bed, splashing water onto his face. Droplets of water spill onto the basin stand before trickling onto the floor in a steady stream. A few drops land onto his travel sack, which lies near the edge of the bed.
Gasping anxiously, Bong quickly lurches forward, pushing the sack away from the droplets of moisture. Worriedly, he rips open the travel bundle, searching frantically for something buried under layers of protective cloth. Finally, he grabs onto a long, slim object wrapped in three layers of soft cloth. With heart pounding in concern, he gently and carefully peels apart the layers of cloth to reveal a scroll. Carefully opening the scroll, he examines the painting of a young woman, her long flowing gown of pure white fluttering softly around her slim form. Delicately arched eyebrows frame large, dewy eyes. A delicate, straight nose and bowed lips complete the picture of grace and beauty. With head slightly tilted, she holds a jade green flute, poised near her lips, as if preparing to play a melody.
As the young marquis stares at the painting, his expression suddenly changes from frantic worry to wistful sadness. For a long moment, he holds the scroll close to his heart, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of the woman's cheek. Visions of the young lady, her smile reserved and demure, dance across his mind.
Closing his eyes briefly, he allows himself to remember. "Suk Yu…" He whispers quietly, his tone tinged with bittersweet regret.
Looking at the painting in his hands, he remembers the day he presented the jade flute to her as a surprise birthday gift. In his mind, he could see the delight in her eyes and hear her laughter right before she placed the flute to her lips. A heavenly melody floated toward him as she tried out her new present. Everyday from then on, he would wake up longing to hear that sweet tune, to bask in the warm glow of love she showered on him. He promised her to take care of her for as long as he lived, to never leave her.
She was his childhood sweetheart, his true love. But he had another love far more important and addictive than she. Ambition. For as long as he could remember, Bong craved for the power that a political position could bring him. He knew he was never meant to be an ordinary citizen. He was destined to become a strong and influential political figure.
Unfortunately, this goal could not be accomplished easily, as it required years to procure even the most insignificant of political positions through the imperial examinations. And patience had never been one of his strong points.
Therefore, when the Royal Duke's only daughter fell in love with him, he grabbed at the opportunity. He sacrificed his love for Lam Suk Yu, ruthlessly and deliberately turning his back on her, closing his heart to the unshed tears shimmering in her disappointed eyes. He forced his heart to forget her and wooed the Duke's sickly and plain daughter relentlessly, winning her heart and her hand in marriage easily.
Within two short years, Ching Bong transformed from an ordinary citizen into the Royal Duke's son-in-law, the Emperor's nephew-in-law. Eventually, he was promoted to Marquis for his dedication and service to his country. He had made a name for himself and had finally attained the power and glory he craved. He was satisfied, even content.
But every so often, in the quiet of night as he lay beside a woman he did not love, he would hear the tinkling of Suk Yu's laughter, feel her soft curves in his arms. Sometimes, he could even almost imagine hearing the flute melody she played only for him. Perhaps it was heaven's way of punishing him for treating Suk Yu so cruelly, for he could not forget her and spent the past two years tortured with her image embedded firmly in his heart and mind.
Now, as he passes through West Lake Province, which is located near the city of Lam On, Suk Yu's hometown, he misses her more than ever. Sighing, Bong meticulously rolls up the painting, carefully wrapping the layers of cloth over it before placing it back into his travel bundle.
Walking over to the window overlooking the lush gardens below, he pushes open the shutters, allowing a cool breeze to drift in. Shivering a little from the chilly wind but nonetheless enjoying the brisk air, he proceeds to disrobe in preparation for bed. From the open window, a soft, sad melody floats through the air, each note pulling at his heartstrings.
His fingers halt at his waist sash, as he stands as still as a statue, listening, his heart pounding furiously against his rib cage. "Suk Yu…" He whispers in disbelief. "That's the melody Suk Yu plays every time she is sad!"
Suddenly forgetting that he is already a married man, he rushes out of his inn room, dashing down the stairs. He reaches the rear gardens in record time, only to come to a halting stop the minute he spots a familiar slender, solitary figure standing near a grove of violets, her back facing him. The lilting melody drifts from the jade flute in her hands, the delicate notes weaving their way across the inn's gardens, riding gently along with the wind.
For the next few minutes, the gardens fill with a music so sad that the flowers seem to weep, their petals half closed with dewdrops of moisture clinging to the petals like tears. Finally, the melody fades, as the wind picks up, roaring in grief.
Lowering her flute, Suk Yu remains still for a moment, enjoying the fragrance of the blooms around her, listening to the low howl of the wind. Sighing softly, she turns and makes her way back toward her room, her hand trailing on the wooden railings along the garden path to keep her balance.
As she passes Ching Bong, she stares right through him, her sightless eyes unaware of his presence. Shifting slightly to avoid tripping her, Bong gaps at Suk Yu in disbelief, realizing that she is blind. Speechless with shock, he remains rooted to the spot.
Hearing the scratching of boots against the stone path, Suk Yu stops and looks toward the noise. "Oh, I'm sorry. I do not realize I have company."
Receiving no response from the shocked Bong, Suk Yu assumes that this person must not like conversing with strangers at this time of night. Smiling, she bows slightly to him and continues on her way.
Bong turns and watches her silently as she disappears through the entrance of the inn. For a long moment, he stands there, mesmerized and numb from seeing her after two long years and from the shock of finding her blind. Finally, he takes in a deep breath and starts toward his room, his mind still whirling.
As Bong enters the inn, another figure, tall and robed in white, emerges from behind a wide pillar at the east end of the gardens. Flipping his fan open, Lap Chun calmly fans himself, his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he stares after Ching Bong.
**********
If you enjoy this story, please also read my other story, Legendary Book of Sun-Moon Swordplay - The Prequel. Thank you.
http://www.winglin.net/fanfic/legendprequel/
9/6/04