Balance

The rope was old and narrow, but strong enough to support a tired man. Feng Junjie had tied its length between two trees that grew in the plot of ground at the back of the restaurant, and there he had gone to sleep. He had no need of a hammock to bear his weight: the width of the rope was more than enough if one had the balance and poise of a master swordsman.

Lei Li had watched Feng Junjie throughout the day. The first customers usually came in just after first light: farmers up early on their way to market, or weary officials in their dusty black hats, tired after a night of police-work. Li had served them tea and steamed buns and strips of beef; and he had glanced out of the windows towards the figure sleeping on the rope.

As he worked in the kitchen throughout the morning, he would pause and look outside. Feng Junjie apparently slept like the dead. Nothing disturbed him – not the chatter of conversation, the noise of hooves on the road, nor the smell of cooked food that drifted from the restaurant like a mountain mist.

To Li, it seemed as though Feng Junjie was blithely unconcerned by life. Even in a fight, he retained his good humour, his confidence never slipping towards arrogance. It was all the same to him if he slept in a feather bed in the imperial palace or balanced on an old rope in a miserable garden. Li wondered what it was like to feel that sense of optimism. By mid-afternoon, his curiosity drove him out of the kitchens and towards the sleeping figure.

For a moment, Li eyed the rope. Even with his disability, he knew he could jump up onto it; he was certain he could find the balance. Since he'd lost his right arm, he'd had to re-learn the lessons of balance that once came so naturally and flowed so easily. These days he juggled bowls and flasks of wine one-handed. Long ago, only two years ago, his sword was the thing that gave him his balance. But that life was no longer his.

Li could scarcely bring himself to think of the events of two years ago. It was enough that Ba Jiao had given him her father's sword – "so the customers won't tease you," she'd said. Her heart was kind: she was not cruel enough to add: "because you are not a man."

Li wondered if he would ever be a man again. For now he was neither happy nor sad: he just existed, living out his days as the cook-waiter at the little restaurant, and taking no notice of anyone.

Until Feng Junjie had come along.

"Don't even think about it."

Li tilted his head and looked up at the figure on the rope. "I'm sorry?"

Feng Junjie opened one eye and fixed Li with an amused look. "You were going to come up here and knock me from my perch."

"Hmm. Maybe." Li put out his hand and touched the rope, tested its strength. It looked as if it would hold them both.

Junjie shifted position slightly. He opened his eyes and watched Li with a smile. "Why don't you come and sit with me instead?"

Li nodded. Conscious of Junjie's gaze, he vaulted up onto the rope, closing his fingers around it and lifting one leg to curl his toes for balance while the other hung down. The rope bowed only slightly beneath the new weight, and when it rocked back and forth like a boat on the waves, both Li and Junjie rode it without difficulty.

It surprised him how easy it was to balance one-handed upon the rope. Li had expected that he'd fall off into the dirt, just as he had the day before when fighting with the men from Tiger Fort. But then, that fight had been about anger and defence, and this was about… what, exactly? Li wasn't sure.

They were silent for a while. The sound of muted conversation lulled them. Over the past two years, Li had come to believe that, while other people were talking, he did not have to say anything. Now, when he did want to speak, he found that he could not. It was as if the silence that had served him so well for so long had now mastered his tongue and rendered him speechless.

"You don't say much, do you," said Junjie with a small smile.

It was an observation, not a question; but Li responded anyway, glad of the invitation to converse: "What's the use?"

Junjie considered him. "I'm sure you could tell a story or two."

Li shrugged. "What's the use of stories? They're for braggarts. Men who have something to prove - like those louts from Tiger Fort."

Junjie nodded, his expression serious for a moment. "Men who'd rather kidnap a girl to have their fun with than pay a whore, or court a girl honestly. I agree with you, Li: such men tell tall tales about their prowess with the sword or in bed…"

"For some of them, it's the same thing," Li said.

Junjie gave a crack of laughter. "True. But these men – they talk big but they're cowards. It only takes one battle to make them turn tail and flee."

"One battle against one man," Li said quietly. "You."

Junjie gave him a steady look. "Or you."

"No." Li held his gaze for a moment, and then looked away.

"Stories aren't just for braggarts," Junjie said, lightly. "They remind us of deeds of bravery."

"Of stupidity," Li said. He could feel the bitterness rise up inside him. He could feel the twitch of his right shoulder where only a stump remained. He could feel his face contort into the black mask of cold anger he'd often seen reflected back from the mirror.

"Depends on how you look at it." Junjie sat forwards, shifting his weight and sliding his right foot back, his toes gripping the rope. He swung his left leg down like a pendulum, levering his body into an upright position. He balanced almost without thinking about it, hugging his knee as he leaned close to Li.

"I heard this story, once. It was about a young man, a swordsman. He was a genius with the blade, a master of his craft. Everyone admired him. His fame spread across four districts, even though he was still young…"

Li's scowl deepened. He stared down at the ground, at the grass and dirt. "I know this story," he said. "I don't like it."

Feng Junjie continued as if he hadn't heard him: "But because he was so young, this swordsman was rash and impetuous. He got into a fight, and because he had never before lost a battle, he swore that he would cut off his right arm if he was defeated."

Li lifted his head. His face was blank. "Go on."

"The swordsman was defeated," Junjie said softly. "And so he severed his own arm."

"And what does this teach us, this story?" Li asked, his voice tight with bitterness and contempt.

"What do you think?" Junjie asked. "There are those who say every story has a moral, no matter how pointless a tale it might seem. And sometimes there can be more than one moral. You could say that the story tells us not to be over-hasty in making decisions we might later regret. For myself, I admire the one-armed swordsman."

Li stared at him. "Why?"

"Because he was honourable," Junjie said simply. "I heard that his enemy said the swordsman didn't have to cut off his arm, but he did. He'd made a vow. He honoured that vow. That is admirable."

Li had heard enough. He shifted position, turning on the rope to present the empty sleeve of his right arm. It was knotted where the elbow should have been, to keep the dangling fabric out of his way. He moved his shoulder, twitching the covered stump forwards so that it moved obscenely beneath the black cloth.

"You think this is honourable?" he asked, anger clouding his pained disbelief. "You truly find me admirable?"

Feng Junjie looked at him for a long moment, and then reached out and touched the useless stump.

Li jerked back, nearly unbalancing them both from the narrow rope. When Junjie remained in the same position, his fingers outstretched to touch, Li relaxed slightly and allowed the caress.

It was a strange sensation. For two years, Li had tried to avoid physical contact. Any reminder that he was not whole was hateful – but now he allowed Junjie to touch him. He knew it wasn't from pity, as he suspected Ba Jiao's affection to be. This man truly understood.

"Yes," said Junjie, his voice as soft as the stroke of his fingertips, "I do admire you, Lei Li."

It was only when he withdrew his hand from the caress that Junjie seemed hesitant, as if he feared he'd said or done too much. He sat back on the rope and clasped his hands around his knee again, balancing as before.

Li remained where he was, his body twisted at the waist so that he faced Junjie. He did not look at him, but at the knots that secured the rope to the tree closest to them.

He said: "When it rains, they say I become deaf. It amuses them. They pull me close and shout in my ears. Sometimes they throw things – bowls, cups, anything to get my attention. But I can hear them perfectly well – it's just that everything – sound; the world, even - it seems… different."

Junjie looked at him. "In what way is it different?"

"The rain," Li said, slowly. "It's as if it's the only thing I hear; the only thing that holds my attention. When it beats upon the roof of the restaurant, or splashes down into the puddles on the road – there is something about it. It reminds me – it sounds like…"

"Like your heartbeat."

Li lowered his gaze. "Yes. And maybe like…"

"Like blood," Junjie finished for him. "Is that what it is? Like the sound of your blood in your ears - that slow rhythm running out of your body, sapping your strength, breaking your spirit… the way it sounded when you cut off your arm. Is that what it sounds like?"

"Yes." Li could not look at him. "It is like that. The sound of rain disturbs me. It makes me feel dizzy. I feel unbalanced."

Junjie reached out again and touched his left shoulder. It was a different kind of caress than the one he'd given to the right, but Li was grateful for it nonetheless.

He smiled a little, tentatively; and looked up to see that Junjie was watching him. Li said, "It's strange. Since you came, there has been no rain, even though it is the season for it."

Junjie returned the smile, and said: "You must know there is always sunshine after the rain. Perhaps I came here to be your balance."

"Perhaps." Li's hesitant smile grew broader.

The old man called from the restaurant: "Lei Li! There are customers here, don't keep them waiting!"

Junjie laughed. He swung his left leg back up onto the rope, his balance perfect. He gave Li a grin, and said: "Go on. They may not be able to wait for you, but I can."

end