…After many days of travel through the barren deserts, the wandering Shaolin monk came upon a hidden valley nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas. The rice paddies were cracked and dry, and the stalks of maize crumbled to dust beneath the wanderer's hand. Yet there was a village within the valley, and it was full of people going about their daily lives. Strangely, each person that the wanderer saw carried a large monkey on his or her back. Although the monkeys pulled their hair, snatched the food from their hands, and acted as heavy weights that slowed and bent even the strongest young man, the people paid them no attention.

The elder of the village greeted the monk, and invited him to his home for the evening meal. The elder apologized for the sparse offerings he laid before his guest; the summer had been particularly dry and hot that year.

"Why don't the people summer in the heights of the hills?" the monk asked. "Surely there is more water and cooler weather for your crops to thrive above this valley."

The elder's face grew sad. "That was our custom in the past," he told the monk. "But every year troops of monkeys with terrible faces would raid our village and steal our food. This summer there were so many that we decided to flee and settle here, where there are no monkeys."

"No monkeys? There is monkey here for every man, woman, and child. There is a monkey on your own back even now - how is it that you do not see this?"

But these words only confused the elder. "The monkeys do not travel this far down from the hills; if there are monkeys here, it is because we brought them. And why would we do that?"

Nothing would persuade the elder, or anyone else in the village, that they had not left their problems behind after all. They would not face what they had fled, and so could not see it, even when it clung to their backs and held them down. The monk spent the night at his kind host's home, and left the village of the hidden valley in the morning.

Tian had finished his third helping of steamed buns before Xing was even done with her first.

"Slow down or you'll choke," Mother chided him. She had her hospital scrubs on, but hadn't yet had a chance to put up her hair and do her makeup. She usually finished getting ready for work while Tian and Xing ate. Father always had to leave before it was light, to catch the bus to the outskirts of the city where the university was. "What's the rush? You have plenty of time to get to school."

"I want to go practice first," he said. "Xing, are you ready? You can eat that while we walk."

Mother raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't say no. Tian and Jiang often practiced extra before school when there was a big competition coming up; even though the festival tournament was over, it wasn't strange for him to want to go to the wushu school early. Xing was used to it too; yawning widely, she got up from the table and picked up her school bag. She was wearing her snake charm bracelet still, having refused to take it off last night.

Tian grabbed his own bag as well as the last bun from the plate and headed to the door, Xing trailing behind. "Bye!" he shouted without looking back.

"Xing, ask Jiao-tu to help you with your grammar homework while you wait for your brother!" Mother called after them.

"I will! Bye Mama!"

Grandfather's wushu school was only four blocks from the Lis' apartment building, though the neighborhood was much older than theirs. There were mostly courtyard houses here; the uneven street was bordered by long block walls, broken up by tall wooden gates or round arches. It was through an ivy-covered arch that Tian and Xing turned, entering a wide rectangular space with a towering elm in one corner.

Uncle Hong was leading an advanced class in the center of the courtyard through a series of high kick repetitions. A cloud of dust stirred up by the movements of the teenage boys and girls hovered just above the ground and the shouted "Ha!" following each kick bounced off the stone walls. Uncle saw the children enter and gave them a cheery wave before returning his attention to his students.

A narrow covered walkway that lined the walls led Tian and Xing around the class and to the buildings ringing the courtyard. The main house, which was directly across from the arch, was where the family lived. It was a large house; in addition to the living space, there were four bedrooms - one for Grandmother and Grandfather, one for Aunt and Uncle, and one each for Jiang and Jiao-tu. Aunt always said that it was a good thing that her children didn't have to share a room, or they would have murdered each other years ago. A kitchen that had been converted into modern style with full plumbing and electricity was just off the main house.

To the left of the arch was a smaller building, currently used as storage - a delightful maze of dusty old furniture, boxes, cobwebs, and once, a very frightened bat. Uncle had intended to kill the bat, but Xing had been so horrified at the thought that he and Father had ended up spending most of an afternoon chasing it around the place with brooms until it found its way out, much to Tian and Jiang's amusement (Jiao-tu had locked herself in her parents' bedroom and refused to come out until after her father assured her that the bat was gone). The rooms needed updating - there wasn't even a bathroom. Grandmother kept saying that she wanted to renovate it so that the Li family could move in; but as much fun as it would be to live with everyone else, Tian was secretly glad that they didn't. He liked having his parents all to himself. Well, he shared them with Xing; but she didn't count.

"I'm going to go find 'Tu!" Xing said, skipping ahead of him. He watched her disappear into the main house, then turned right into the third building of the complex, leaving his shoes just outside the open door.

This was the indoor wushu studio. With the class practicing outside, the simple white room was empty of people this morning. Quiet and waiting. Blue tumbling mats were stacked up against one wall, ready to be rolled out at a moment's notice. One corner contained a plain wooden table with a single chair. Around the perimeter were all kinds of training equipment: two wooden practice dummies, punching bags for Western-style boxing, and an assortment of staves and practice swords. Tian and Jiang's class was going to start learning the swords soon; he wasn't looking forward to it. They looked intimidating, even though the edges were blunted.

Grandfather had started the school over forty years ago: a faded banner on the far wall boasted "Xu Man's School" in hand-painted calligraphy. Below the banner, the wall was covered in photos of himself and his students, current and former, at various events and competitions. There was a younger Uncle posing next to a National Champion trophy, and one of Mother when she just a teenager, having medaled at a province-wide taolu competition for girls. Mother had always wanted to dance rather than fight, which was why she'd enrolled Xing in dance classes instead. Grandfather had forgiven her for that only because Xing loved it so much.

The medals and trophies themselves were kept in the office in the back, out of the way of errant tumbling and off-target kicks. Jiang had his own shelf, while Tian's awards shared space with the other students'. Tian was proud of his cousin's accomplishments, though he was a little jealous. His own routines always went perfectly during practice; but somehow, when he was up on stage in front of all those eyes, watching him and judging him, he would lose focus and make a mistake. Not a big mistake, but enough that another competitor would be awarded higher points. Like at the festival yesterday.

He made his way over to the wooden dummies, bare feet padding silently on the polished wood floor. Aside from the tumbling, it was his favorite part of training. Not many schools in Xi'an had one; Grandfather claimed that a famous Wing Chun master in the south had given the solid dummy to him after he'd shown such mastery of it. Tian preferred the spinning one; he liked the way the bars responded to his every move, with just enough resistance to make it challenging, and the fast pace and even faster reactions that were required to keep it moving. He was the best at it in his class, even better than Jiang. The dummy was scaled for an adult, but Tian was tall enough that it wasn't much of a problem.

Dropping his school bag against the wall, Tian stretched his arms above him, in front of him, behind him. Then he rolled his shoulders a couple of times to loosen up. Straightening his back, he reached out and tapped one of the upper bars lightly with the outside of his forearm. The top portion of the dummy rotated in response to the tap, bringing the other bar around. Tian fended it off with his other arm, hitting a little harder. He quickly settled into a familiar routine, adding in the middle bar. This one was just the right height for him; the other bars were a bit high, but he just pretended that he was fighting off a larger opponent. Like Honglian.

Gradually he picked up speed, striking the bars each time they came within range and throwing the occasional body strike onto the padded central trunk. This was what he loved about the dummy - he didn't have to think, just react. Once he had a good rhythm going, he started the single, curved lower bar with a kick and fended it off with his leg. Each strike made a dull thock sound.

He could have won that medal on Sunday. Thock. It was just that right before his turn had come, he'd heard Shi whispering to Zhenyu about "that blue-eyed freak". He was sure that Shi had said it loud enough for him to hear on purpose, and he'd tried to ignore it. Thock thock. But when he got out on stage, all he could think of was that everyone in the audience could see his unusually-colored eyes - even though that was stupid.

Tian hit the bars harder, spinning them back and forth even faster. It was alright for Xing to have blue eyes, she was a girl and everyone thought that it made her look cuter. Last year when they'd learned about hereditary traits in science class, Jiang had tried to convince Tian that he and Xing must be adopted, since both their mother's and father's eyes were brown. Thock, thock. But Mother had explained to him that Father's family was from a region in the north where blue eyes were more common than in the rest of China, and her family was said to have some northern ancestry as well. So it was possible, however unlikely, that both Tian and Xing had inherited blue eyes. She promised that they weren't adopted.

Still, that didn't stop the teasing.

Honglian had started it. Thock-thock thock. He'd started it after Tian had gotten a higher score than him in a regional competition a few months ago. And lately, the whispers were starting to be heard even in Grandfather's school - though outside of Grandfather's hearing, of course. Jiang never had to put up with teasing, even though he was better than Honglian too.

Thwack! The leg bar slammed into his shin; thrown off balance, he missed the upper bar that came spinning around at head level. Thwack! It knocked Tian over backwards; he landed with a pained "Oof!" on the hard floor.

When the stars stopped exploding in his brain, he opened his eyes. A lined face with crinkly eyes and a shaved head was staring at him upside-down. No, it was Tian that was upside-down. He pushed himself up into a sitting position with a groan.

"You lost your focus," Grandfather said impassively. He took a sip from a steaming mug. Even though Uncle was teaching the morning classes, Grandfather was dressed in his usual long-waisted wushu shirt and loose pants, the color of earth. Tian had rarely seen him in any other clothes. Sometimes he thought that Grandfather must have been born that way - bald, liver-spotted, and drab brown. His students referred to him affectionately as Shifu Tortoise. Just not in his presence.

"Yes," Tian sighed. "Sorry, Shifu-Grandfather." He stood up and shook out his arms, preparing to try again.

But Grandfather shook his head. "You need to clear your head first."

His shoulders sagged a little. "…for how long?"

Grandfather tapped a finger between his shoulder blades and Tian straightened again. "Until your head is clear."

That was always the answer; Tian didn't know why he always asked, except that maybe it was comforting to hear the familiar response. Grandfather sat down at the little table in the corner. He crossed an ankle over the opposite knee and continued sipping his tea. Tian positioned himself in front of the wall near the table; bracing his forearms and head on the floor, he swung his legs up into a headstand.

This was Grandfather's idea of "clearing the head." It took a lot of concentration to keep the body straight and strong. Tian hated it.

He tried to focus on his breathing. A calm, even breath moving in and out of his lungs, filling every muscle and every cell with energy. Every time a thought of the tournament or Honglian entered his mind, Tian brushed it aside and concentrated on his breath again. He squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing in the side of his head where the bar had hit him. His arms were starting to get a little tired. In and out…in and out…ten minutes must have passed already.

He heard Grandfather get up from the chair and walk over to his position with almost silent steps.

"Good. One minute. That's almost a record for you."

"What?" Only one minute? Tian's legs swayed dangerously, but he rallied and steadied himself once more.

"Focus on the present," Grandfather intoned. "Whatever it is that is bothering you, fogging up your mind, let it go. Forget the past. The future is meaningless. Emotions are nothing but unnecessary distractions. Breathe. In, and out."

Eventually, despite the blood pooling in his brain, Tian felt his mind start to relax. Time stretched and bent, losing all meaning. There was only the present; his breathing and the centering of his core. Focus on the present…emotions are unnecessary distractions. The words drifted through his brain, expanding and filling his consciousness.

"Jiang told me what happened yesterday."

Tian's bubble of concentration burst and he toppled over with a thud. He tried to sit up, but the blood drained from his head in a cold rush and left him feeling dizzy. He leaned forward over his legs instead, rubbing them to try and prevent the inevitable stabbing pins and needles of pain.

Grandfather sat down cross-legged next to him. The scent of jasmine tea mingled with pipe tobacco filled the air. "We've discussed this before. There's no shame in not wanting to fight. It takes a strong man to turn away and follow the path of nonviolence. Those who would prey on the weak betray their own weakness."

"I know," Tian said, folding himself completely over and crossing his arms on his knees to rest his forehead and hide his reddening face. He didn't deserve to have Grandfather call him a strong man.

"But you still feel like you did wrong?"

"I guess," he said into his knees.

"Why is that?"

Tian exhaled in frustration, then sat up to lean against the wall. He didn't meet Grandfather's eyes. "I don't really care when they pick on me. Okay, I care a little bit," he added, knowing that the old man would see through the lie. "But…what if it's not me they're picking on next? What if it's Xing, or Jiao-tu?"

Grandfather sipped his tea thoughtfully. "Was Xing there with you?"

"Uh huh."

"What did she do?"

Tian felt his face flush at the memory. "She shouted at them to leave me alone."

Grandfather chuckled. "So, what makes you think that she needs your protection?"

"But, they're bigger than her! And she's not a fighter, she -"

The old wushu master placed a hand on his pupil's knee, and Tian closed his mouth to listen. "There may be times when your sister needs your help, yes. But if she can handle it on her own, then you need to let her. And you need to let other people help you - those boys are frightened of your cousin; you know that they won't hurt you or the girls."

"It's not right," Tian muttered. "If I wasn't such a coward, I wouldn't need to depend on Jiang."

"You are one of the most talented students I've ever had, but violence is not in you, son, and that's nothing to be ashamed about. Now, why do these boys target you so often?"

Tian shrugged. "Jiang thinks it's just because I don't fight back." He hadn't ever fought back, not even during sparring practice - not since he'd accidentally hit an opponent's face during a competition two years ago. The other boy's nose had been broken; Tian would never forget all the blood, and the boy's horrified tears of pain. He never wanted to hurt anyone like that again.

"What do you think?"

"Well…" Tian hesitated. "Honglian pushes me around because he knows he can; but I think he's just embarrassed that I scored higher than him at New Year's, even though I'm two years younger. He doesn't want his friends thinking that he's weak."

Grandfather looked thoughtful. "You do have a talent for seeing through to the truth about people. That sounds plausible. The question now, is how do you keep him from preying on you in the future, without making him look weak? I fear that even if you did fight back - which I don't think you should - things would only get ugly."

"I don't know. I don't mind it, really, as long as they don't try to hurt Xing or 'Tu."

This response received a raised eyebrow, and Tian looked away guiltily.

"Have I ever told you the story of my visit to the village in the hidden valley, in the foothills of the Himalayas?"

"Yes." Only about a hundred times.

It wasn't one of Tian's favorites; mostly because Grandfather seemed to reserve it especially for him. He looked to be about to start telling it again, when they heard Jiang's voice outside shouting, "Tu! Get Tian and come on!"

There was a scuffling sound from right outside the doorway, then Jiao-tu poked her head inside. "Time for school," she said meekly, studying her toes the way she always did when she was caught doing something wrong; Tian wondered how long she'd been out there listening in.

Grandfather patted his knee, then stood with an ease surprising in such an old man. "Well, you need to be off. Think on my question, and we'll talk again later. And don't be upset with your cousin for telling me," he added softly.

"I'm not," Tian said truthfully. Nothing escaped the old man's watchful eye, and when he wanted to know something, all he had to do was regard his students with silent scrutiny until they broke beneath his impenetrable gaze. Jiao-tu was convinced that he could actually read minds.

Tian collected his school bag and met Jiao-tu outside, where he slipped his shoes back on. He noticed that she was wearing the charm bracelet still, just like Xing. His sister and Jiang were waiting by the front archway.

"Here, Mom saved these for you," Jiang said, holding out a napkin-wrapped packet. "I ate the other ten," he added proudly.

Tian took the packet and opened it to find two soy sauce boiled eggs. He popped one into his mouth; Aunt Yafang always added chilies and garlic, something that he'd never been able to convince his own mother to do.

"Thanks," he said around a mouthful of egg. "I was still hungry; I only had nine buns this morning." They had been big buns too, bigger than Aunt ever made.

Jiang snorted. "Nine? I had - "

"Ugh," Jiao-tu interrupted with a roll of her eyes, "you two are so dumb - no one cares how much food you can stuff into your fat mouths! Come on, we're going to be late for school!"

Xing just giggled.

*Shifu = master/teacher