Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

After Chen Jiren finished teaching the essentials of the boxing style, Cang Lifeng and Xiang Yang knew that this small thatched hut could not accommodate many people for long. That afternoon, the two brothers, filled with the insights they had gained from their new learning and heavy hearts, went down the mountain first to return home and prepare for the New Year.

From then on, Cang Lifeng and Cang Xiangyang would come every day braving the wind and snow, and return as dusk fell. In these back and forth, Chen Jiren would carefully instruct them on the stance training, footwork, and energy cultivation methods of the Thirteen Postures of Tai Chi, so that they could personally experience the profound principle of "seeking stillness in movement and maintaining constancy in change" while walking on the rugged mountain road.

The year-end is fast approaching, and the sporadic sounds of firecrackers from the villages at the foot of the mountain bring a touch of distant warmth to the silent cliffs, but only serve to highlight the transcendence and solitude of the thatched cottage.

When the day came for them to leave, Cang Lifeng and Cang Xiangyang stood solemnly in front of the thatched hut, straightened their clothes, and bowed deeply to Chen Jiren, who was sitting quietly on a futon.

Cang Lifeng stood tall, his tiger-like eyes filled with tears, while Cang Xiangyang choked back sobs. They could no longer stay on the mountain. This parting might be their last. The immense kindness of their master in passing on his skills was beyond repayment; how could they not be heartbroken?

Chen Jiren accepted the greeting calmly, his gaze serene. He simply waved his hand and said, "Go back. Parting and reunion are common occurrences. Don't worry about it." With that, he closed his eyes and said no more.

Seeing this, Cang Lifeng stood up, pulled up the still-crying Cang Xiangyang, and said in a deep voice, "Xiangyang, we should remember and practice the kindness of our master in passing on his skills for the rest of our lives. If we hone our skills and support our family, that will be the best way to repay our master."

With tears welling in his eyes, Xiangyang nodded vigorously: "Brother, I understand. I just... I just can't bear to part with it..."

Cang Lifeng looked at Tianci, who was standing to the side, and instructed him, "Tianci, please take good care of Master for me these days."

At this point, he looked at Chen Jiren again and said emotionally, "Master, we're leaving now. Please take care!"

The two brothers, turning back every step of the way, slowly made their way down the mountain through the still-unmelted snow. Though they were filled with reluctance, they knew all too well that these last precious moments should be reserved for Tianci, who remained guarding the cliff.

What they took away were skills and values ​​sufficient to make a living; what Tianci was to inherit was the more profound and illuminating tradition and legacy that his master had spent his entire life refining.

After that day, Tianci, who remained in the thatched hut, began his last and most intensive time with his master. Chen Jiren seemed to be calmly racing against his predetermined fate, pouring the essence of his life's learning, along with those ineffable "feelings" and "mental techniques" that could only be imprinted in his heart, into his only successor in these final days.

On New Year's Eve, Chen Jiren broke with tradition and drank half a cup of rice wine offered by Tianci. Gazing at the distant fireworks that occasionally lit up the dark sky outside the window, he calmly said to Tianci:

"Look at those fireworks, soaring into the sky with dazzling brilliance, then disappearing without a trace. My destiny in this life is coming to an end, and so shall I."

He paused, then looked at his disciple with gentle eyes, as if he could see through the sorrow the disciple was trying to suppress.

"Do not see it as sinking into eternal darkness. It is like a drop of water, separated from the clouds and the stream, seemingly disappearing, but in reality returning to the sea—from then on, all rivers flow into one place, free and unrestrained. This is something to rejoice in."

As the words fell, silence descended upon the thatched hut. Tianci lowered his head deeply, his shoulders trembling slightly. He pondered his master's words, and the immense sorrow seemed to find a place to rest within this vast metaphor.

After a long while, he forcefully wiped his eyes with his sleeve. When he raised his head again, his eyes still held pain, but also a hint of determination. He said nothing, but picked up the silver needles and focused even more intently on the acupuncture point chart.

Since then, inside the hut, a single lamp flickers, accompanied by the figures of an old man and a young man studying, discussing, and practicing acupuncture techniques. Chen Jiren's voice explaining profound principles, Tianci's steady breathing as he concentrates on acupuncture, and the faint sound of firecrackers in the distance, together weave together the most profound and unique memory of this winter.

During this time, Tianci saw his master take out the old pocket watch with its mottled case from his pocket more than once during breaks in teaching, gently stroking it or listening to it with a focused expression. On one occasion, his master even asked him to try to use the constant rhythm of the pocket watch to calibrate his slightly disordered breathing due to emotional fluctuations while circulating the Hidden Dragon Technique.

On the day of the Lantern Festival, Chen Jiren solemnly summoned Tianci to an old medicine chest, gently opened it, and took out a long object tightly wrapped in oilcloth from the bottom. He untied the ropes one by one, lifted the oilcloth, and gradually revealed several notebooks with yellowed pages and worn edges, a book of illustrations, a scroll of silk, and an old pocket watch with a mottled outer casing.

"Heaven-sent," he said, opening the thickest notebook, "this notebook contains my reconstructed medical records of the Chen family from memory, along with annotations accumulated over half a lifetime. Look," he pointed to a densely written section, "here, 'This prescription once saved a battalion commander, but his spleen was weak, so it needed to be modified with yam'... there, 'This ailment is similar to what Nian'en encountered back then, but his mind was already skewed; if the acupuncture needles were applied incorrectly, not only would it not cure the person, but it would also leave hidden injuries'... Every word here is imbued with experience and lessons. You need to look carefully, look at the prescription, and even more so at the human heart and the way of Heaven behind it."

Then he picked up a booklet with the title "A Combined Study of Boxing and Meridian Guiding Techniques".

"This is a record of my insights into the unity of martial arts and medicine. Study it carefully, and when you practice your martial arts, you will understand how the power of the moves corresponds to the flow of internal qi and blood. Martial arts are for application, and medicine is for nourishment. One is for offense and the other for defense, one is for destruction and the other for creation, just like the rotation of yin and yang, together maintaining the balance and strength of the human body."

Then, pointing to an old scroll of the Tao Te Ching, he solemnly said, "The Tao is contained in this scroll. It is the source of living water, which you need to understand throughout your life and never be separated from it for a moment."

Finally, his movements slowed down. His left hand gently rested on the "Dragon's Breathing Cultivation Diary," while his right hand carefully picked up the old pocket watch with its mottled case.

"This diary is not a cultivation method, but a record of my life's journey of spiritual practice. It contains the anguish of wandering on the wrong path, as well as the joy of sudden flashes of inspiration. Go and read it, discern it, and may you follow in my footsteps to walk a smoother path."

After speaking, he handed over the diary, and then gently placed the pocket watch into Tianci's palm. The heavy coolness of the watch seemed to be branded directly onto Tianci's heart.

"This watch has been with me for most of my life," Chen Jiren said, his voice unusually gentle. "Years ago, when I was practicing medicine, I treated a seriously injured passerby. Before he left, he gave me this watch, saying it was the most valuable and cleanest thing he owned. Look," he said, tilting the case slightly towards the light, revealing a line of very fine engraving on the inside: "Trust and Righteousness Through the Ages." "It keeps accurate time, not because it's expensive, but because its movement is pure and undisturbed by external things. Human feelings may be obscured by emotions and shifted by material possessions. But 'trust' and 'righteousness,' like the movement of this watch, remain constant and unchanging. Practicing medicine and saving lives, and living a virtuous life, are all about this. I'm giving you this watch so you remember: the light in your heart is your 'movement.' No matter how chaotic the world is, or how unpredictable people's hearts are, like this watch, hold onto that purity and constancy. This is the distinction between 'truth' and 'falsehood,' remember it well, remember it well."

After giving these instructions, he carefully wrapped the notes, diagrams, silk scrolls, diaries, and pocket watch in oilcloth and personally bound them to the deepest part of his bag. His movements were slow and solemn, as if he were sealing his life for the last time.

---

Having done all this, he gazed at the increasingly calm and reserved young man before him, whose brows held a profound depth, and gave him some instructions:

"Heaven has given you a path before you. Where you go depends on your own destiny. Go forth. Entering this mortal world is the true path to enlightenment. Do not betray the 'Tao' that you seek in your heart."

Cangtianci straightened his clothes, faced his revered teacher, and bowed in worship. As he bent down, his forehead touched the cold earth, and the Hidden Dragon Technique within his body involuntarily began to circulate slightly.

In that instant when extreme sorrow and utmost reverence intertwined, he seemed to transcend all barriers of words and form, and for the first time "perceived" the state of his master's presence behind him—not decay, not annihilation, but a state of perfect harmony, vastness, and tranquility, like a deep pool returning to the sea, or the moon reflected in a river. This state subtly echoed a certain clarity he experienced when practicing the Hidden Dragon Technique to the point of "Turtle Breath Containing Truth," yet it was even more complete and free, as if he were one with the surrounding snow cliffs, the sky, and even the Great Dao in the darkness, without distinction.

In that instant, his mind flashed back to his great-grandfather's resolute protection of the flame amidst the blood and fire of Cangyun Mountain, his grandfather Cang Houde's profound 48 years of silent perseverance, and his master's perfect return after achieving his goal... Three generations, three postures, yet they seemed to be passing the baton forward in the same spiritual river called "protection" and "inheritance".

This feeling, though mysterious and profound, washed over his soul with undeniable reality, making him realize that his master's words about "success" and "perfection" were not empty words.

What he inherited was far more than medical skills and martial arts; it was the "Tao" that leads to the ultimate truth of life.