Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

After school in the afternoon, Cang Tianci went to the training hall.

Chen Xuhua was standing in the center of the field instructing several new trainees on their warm-up exercises. Seeing Cang Tianci enter, he whispered a few words of instruction before walking up to him.

"Tianci, you've been practicing Zhan Zhuang for almost a month now. Come on, show me your stance today."

"Okay, coach."

Cang Tianci walked to the center of the field, took a deep breath, and slowly lowered himself. He stepped out with his left foot, then pulled back with his right heel, distributing his weight 30% forward and 70% backward. His arms hung naturally at his sides, his right hand resting on the inside of his left wrist, then he raised them and held them in front of his chest. The entire movement was unhurried and gentle, like a plant stretching its branches and leaves in the morning light.

Chen Xuhua walked around Cang Tianci, his gaze sweeping from head to toe, before placing his hand on Cang Tianci's shoulder.

"Relax," he said.

Cang Tianci's shoulder relaxed by half an inch.

"Relax further."

His shoulders were already as relaxed as they could possibly be, but Chen Xuhua didn't stop him. Cang Tianci tried to shift his focus away from his shoulders, down his spine, to his waist, to his legs, to the soles of his feet. His soles were warm against the ground. That warmth rose from his Yongquan acupoint, past his ankles, to his knees, to his hips, and up his spine. When it reached his shoulders, they relaxed even more on their own.

Chen Xuhua lowered his hand.

"What are you thinking about when you're practicing standing meditation?"

"I don't want to think about anything. Sometimes images come to mind—the snow at Eagle Cliff, my master's thatched hut. But they come and go on their own, I don't try to stop them," Cang Tianci replied with his eyes closed.

"Was there any deliberate focus?"

"No. My master said that focusing too much on something will cause stagnation. It should be like focusing on something without actually focusing on it, as if it's there but not there."

Chen Xuhua walked around to him, squatted down, and placed his palm on his knee. The hand was warm, and the warmth seeped through his pants onto Tianci's skin.

"Is it sour here?"

"It's not sour."

Chen Xuhua moved her hand up and placed it on his lower back. "What about here?"

"It feels a little bloated."

"Okay." Chen Xuhua stood up. "The swelling is normal. If it's sore, it means your center of gravity is off; if it's painful, it means you're just enduring it. Swelling means your qi and blood are flowing smoothly."

He went around behind Cang Tianci and poked him between his shoulder blades with his finger.

"Is it like there's a tendon pulling here?"

Cang Tianci thought for a moment, "...a little."

"That's right." Chen Xuhua withdrew his hand and said, "This tendon is called the Jiaji point. If you stand in the San Ti Shi (Three-Body Stance) correctly, the Jiaji point will loosen on its own. You've only been practicing for a month, so it's normal for it to be tight. Once it loosens on its own, you'll know what 'Qi sticking to the back' means."

He paused, then asked, "Does the 'Dragon-Hibernating Technique' your master taught you match the breathing techniques used in Zhan Zhuang (standing meditation)?"

Cang Tianci opened his eyes, thought for a moment, and said, "Yes. The Hidden Dragon Technique is meditation, and the stance is standing. When you are still, your breath moves slowly, and when you are standing, your breath moves deeply. But in the end, the feeling is the same—the breath sinks to the dantian and then moves to the soles of your feet."

He closed his eyes, stood for a while, and suddenly said, "Coach Chen, I feel that if I stand in the stance correctly, the Qi of the Hidden Dragon Technique will automatically follow. There's no need to deliberately guide it; the body knows the way on its own."

Chen Xuhua looked at him without saying a word. After a long while, he finally spoke: "You've been standing for almost a month, is there anything bothering you?"

"No, everything is fine."

Chen Xuhua nodded, turned to look at Cang Tianci, and said, "The key points of walking are all in the boxing manual; you should have read it, right?"

"Yes, I've seen it," Cang Tianci said.

"Stances are stillness, steps are movement. Only by combining stillness and movement can the Qi flow freely." Chen Xuhua walked to the edge of the area and asked, "In the thirteen postures of Tai Chi taught by your master, is there any walking movement?"

"Yes. Progress, regression, looking around, and stability."

"Try walking it once, following the feeling your master taught you, without worrying about the rules of Sun-style boxing."

Cang Tianci closed his eyes and recalled the Tai Chi Thirteen Postures taught by his master from his memory—when advancing, shift your center of gravity first, place your feet on the ground, and be as silent as a cat; when retreating, turn your waist and hips first, step back, and keep your body still.

He opened his eyes and started walking.

The first step was slow. Not intentionally slow, but a natural slowdown during the weight transfer. My feet glided along the ground, like floating on water. The second step was even slower. But every step was steady, like nails driven into the ground, impossible to pull out.

He walked around once, then stopped and looked at Chen Xuhua.

Chen Xuhua didn't speak, but simply walked back to the center of the field, stood beside him, and began to walk as well. Their footwork was different—Chen Xuhua used the Sun-style boxing footwork, with a more flexible center of gravity and a greater range of hip rotation; Cang Tianci used the Tai Chi Thirteen Postures footwork, which was more relaxed and grounded. But when they walked together, their rhythm was the same.

It's not that one is imitating the other; it's that two different paths have led to the same place.

After walking back and forth a few times, Chen Xuhua stopped, turned around and looked at Cang Tianci.

"What your master passed on to you is the root. What I teach you is the branch. If the root doesn't move, the branch can grow in any direction."

He paused, his gaze falling on Cang Tianci's face.

"Tianci, I know you still think that routines are just for show."

Cang Tianci paused for a moment, then remained silent.

"But you didn't refuse to learn. Why?"

Cang Tianci was silent for a few seconds, then spoke: "Because I want to know whether what my master taught me and what you taught me can match up."

"Did it match up?"

"Testing."

Chen Xuhua looked at him and nodded.

"Then let's keep trying."

From that day on, the way Cangtianci learned the routines changed. He no longer just followed along, but learned and disassembled them at the same time.

He broke down each movement into its smallest components and then asked himself: Is there anything from the Hidden Dragon Technique in this? Yes. The inhalation when jumping and the exhalation when striking are the Hidden Dragon Technique's "inhale like a silkworm spinning silk, exhale like snow falling on bamboo tips."

He dissected the routine into pieces, and then found connections between those pieces and what his master had taught him. This wasn't compromise; it was assimilation.

Chen Xuhua stood beside him, watching him disassemble and reassemble a set of prescribed boxing techniques repeatedly, without interrupting him.

“Starting tomorrow,” Chen Xuhua said, “I will teach you the traditional routines of Sun-style Tai Chi. You will gradually incorporate the energy pathways of the Thirteen Postures of Tai Chi into your routine. How much you can incorporate is up to you.”

Cang Tianci stood there, his fingers slightly swollen and his palms warm. It was the feeling of energy reaching the extremities. He had felt this way before when he practiced Sanda (Chinese kickboxing), but that was generated by forceful punches; now, he felt it simply by standing still.

After Chen Xuhua finished speaking, he turned and walked towards the new students who were still stretching their legs.

Cang Tianci did not follow. He readjusted his Three-Body Stance. When he stood down, his legs did not tremble, and his hands did not shake.

But then he suddenly remembered his name on the results board—last place. Those three words were like nails hammered into the wall, and also into his mind.

He didn't close his eyes, nor did he try to banish the image. He simply let it be there, like a stone by the roadside.

After standing there for a while, the image faded away on its own.

Chen Xuhua walked over, glanced at him, and said nothing. Cang Tianci also remained silent. He closed his eyes and continued standing.

The warmth lingered in his feet, rising from the Yongquan acupoint. He knew that some things were regressing, while others were progressing. This body was, in its own way, gradually re-establishing itself.

He suddenly thought of his master. If his master were still alive, what would he say if he saw him standing in the stance?

Perhaps she would say nothing, simply sit on the futon, and quietly watch him, just like before on Eagle Cliff.

"Master," he called out in his mind, "I'm learning the routines now."

No one answered.

He closed his eyes and continued standing. But this time, when he stood up, he felt his feet sink a little deeper.