Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

A few days later, Tianci's condition stabilized. The doctor prescribed a thick prescription and a stack of ointments and liquids, instructing him to take them on time and change them regularly. On the day of discharge, his senior, Chen Gang, arrived at the hospital early to help Cang Zhenye pack his things. He carefully packed the prescribed medicine into a cloth bag and then helped Cang Zhenye support the frail Tianci. Tianci's left arm was draped over Chen Gang's shoulder, his right hand rested on a newly bought crutch, and his right leg hung stiffly as he limped to the Jixian West Bus Station. Cang Zhenye, hunched over, followed closely behind, carrying the heavy bundle containing clothes, medicine, and Tianci's books.

Chen Gang watched the bus heading towards Futian Township gradually disappear into the distance before sighing and walking back.

The dilapidated bus rattled and swayed along the bumpy county road, like a small boat that might fall apart at any moment. Each bump sent piercing pain through Tianci's injured leg. He gritted his teeth, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The scenery outside the window rushed past, but he seemed to see himself sweating profusely on the training field, the flashing lights in the ring, and the desperate yet hopeful look in Lin Wanqing's eyes when she handed him the amulet... Was all of this going to be sealed away by this cold cast on his leg? "'Inadequate bone structure'... 'Difficult to achieve great things'... Could Coach Nancheng's words have become a prophecy?" A chill, mixed with excruciating pain, resentment, and fear, was more piercing than the wind outside the bus. It seeped into his heart from the cracks in his casted leg, almost freezing his blood.

Cang Zhenye sat beside his son, pressing his body tightly against him. He held his son's right leg, which was in a cast, with one hand and gripped the back of the seat in front of him with the other, trying to cushion some of the impact for his son with his own body.

After a bumpy ride, the car finally arrived at the Futian Township parking lot. As soon as the car door opened, a biting cold wind rushed in. After everyone got off the car, Cang Zhenye helped Tianci to the door.

Outside the bus, Su Yumei was already waiting. The cold wind ruffled her hair and made her cheeks red with cold. Her hands were tightly tucked into her sleeves, and she kept stamping her feet, her eyes anxiously searching every bus that stopped.

When Su Yumei saw the glaring white plaster cast on her son's leg, she felt as if she had been punched in the chest, her whole body trembling violently. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out; only scalding tears streamed down her chapped, frozen face, leaving two wet streaks. She almost staggered to his side, crying, "Tianci! My son! Your leg…how did your leg get like this?"

"Mother..." Tianci saw his mother's torrent of tears, his nose tingled, his throat tightened, and he turned his face away, unable to look at her any longer. "It's my fault...it's my fault..." The immense guilt was like a red-hot iron, burning his very soul.

Cang Zhenye pleaded in a hoarse voice, "Wife... don't cry... let's... let's go home first..."

He turned to Tianci and said gently, "The snow is too deep. Come on, let Dad carry you."

"No!" Tianci suddenly looked up, his voice stuttering with emotion, "I...I...can...walk by myself!" This wasn't just out of consideration for his father; more deeply, he couldn't bear to feel like a completely broken piece of trash, needing someone to carry him even to walk. This went against his stubborn belief that "my fate is in my own hands," and this broken body was the only battlefield where he could struggle to maintain his dignity.

Looking at the flame of pain and stubbornness burning in her son's eyes, Su Yumei felt her heart breaking. She stepped forward, firmly pressing down on Tianci's trembling arm, and said resolutely, "Son, this snowy road is not the time for you to be reckless. If your bones are broken, you have to accept it! If you can't lie down now, how will you stand up straight later? Listen to your parents, wait until your father gets tired of carrying you, then I'll take over. I'm in good shape!"

Tianci stiffened. His mother's words were like a needle, puncturing the balloon he was trying to hold up. He slumped down, loosening his grip on his cane, and let his father turn around and carefully carry him on his back. His father's not-so-broad, even somewhat hunched back, became the only mountain he could rely on at that moment.

The mountain path stretched for over ten miles, the snow reaching knee-deep. Cang Zhenye carried Tianci, now a boy of about half a year old, his every step sinking deep into the snow with a heavy, labored "plop." The veins on his neck and arms bulged from the extreme effort, and sweat mixed with his breath, freezing into frost at his graying temples.

As Tianci lay on his father's back, he could clearly feel his father's muscles trembling and his heart pounding, and he could hear his mother's suppressed breathing from behind. This heavy, almost crushing love caused him more suffocating pain than the pain in his leg.

As the low, dilapidated outline of Xiqiao Village finally came into view in the twilight, Cang Zhenye and Su Yumei were already drenched in sweat and nearly exhausted. They finally carried their injured son, step by step, back to the barren, but temporarily sheltering, mud-brick house.

Back home, after settling Tianci on the bed, it was already dark. The dim oil lamp cast the shadows of the three of them on the dilapidated mud wall. The flickering flame illuminated the county newspaper on the wall, which his father had carefully pasted with rice paste, reporting his victory. The three characters "Cang Tianci" printed with ink appeared exceptionally clear and glaring in the dim light, like a pair of silent eyes questioning his present situation.

Su Yumei fetched hot water and carefully wiped the sweat and dust off her son's face with a hot towel. When her trembling fingers accidentally touched the cold plaster, tears welled up silently again, and she quickly turned her face away to wipe them dry with her sleeve.

Cang Zhenye didn't sit down, but squatted against the earthen wall in the shadows, took out his pipe, but his hands trembled so much that he couldn't light it several times. He let out a long, silent breath, which condensed into a thick, impenetrable white mist in the cold air.

In the suffocating silence, Cang Tianci looked around but didn't see any familiar figures. He couldn't help but ask, "Brother Xiangyang, where's Sister Xiaohua?"

"Your older brother Lifeng came back a while ago," Cang Zhenye continued, "He said there was a construction site in the city that was hiring, with room and board provided, and that we could earn some cash, so he took Xiangyang and Xiaohua with him."

Upon hearing this, Su Yumei, while wringing out the towel, added in a low voice, "Your older brother also said in his letter... Xiangyang had only been there for two days when he sprained his ankle while moving things, and it swelled up really badly... He didn't dare to stop working, for fear of being sent back..." Before she could finish speaking, she suddenly stopped, realizing she had misspoke, and glanced at Tianci in a panic before quickly lowering her head to scrub the towel vigorously.

Tianci's heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an icy hand. His older siblings were risking their lives outside, while he, the one on whom so much hope was placed, was... He buried his face in the musty-smelling pillow, a burning sensation mixed with endless guilt towards his family and surging resentment towards his own fate, making his internal organs ache.

"Ask the Way... Ask your heart, not your fist..." His elder brother's words echoed in his mind, yet now seemed so pale and powerless. "I'm almost gone, my very foundation is crumbling, I've become a burden to be carried... Is my 'Way' about starting with accepting this broken body, learning to lie down?" This thought filled him with an unprecedented sense of panic and rejection.

Cang Zhenye's hoarse voice broke the silence: "Tianci, tomorrow at daybreak, your father will take you to find the old divine doctor! He travels far and wide; we don't know if he's at the foot of the cliff, but we have to try our luck no matter what!"

Tianci knew that the miracle doctor his father spoke of was none other than Chen Jiren, the great benefactor who lived in seclusion at Eagle Cliff.

Before dawn the next day, the snow stopped, and the mountains and fields were a blinding white. Cang Zhenye carried the small blue cloth bundle that Su Yumei had prepared for the old doctor. Inside the bundle were several pieces of cured pork that Su Yumei had carefully sun-dried, a few bottles of uniquely flavored chili sauce, and fermented bean curd.

Ever since the old doctor treated Cang Zhenye and his daughter Cang Xiaohua for free, they have sent him some of their homemade local specialties every year as the year draws to a close.

This time, Cang Zhenye didn't ask any more questions. He simply knelt down silently and resolutely in front of his son. Tianci looked at his father's back, bent by years and toil, his throat tightened, and he finally bowed down silently and obediently. Su Yumei, still carrying the bundle, followed closely behind. The family of three once again silently blended into the thick snow of Eagle Cliff.

The heavy snow bent the bamboo on Eagle Cliff, making a creaking sound as it trudged under the weight. Cang Zhenye carried Tianci on his back, walking slower and more steadily, as if his entire world was on his shoulders. Finally, several simple thatched huts, almost buried under the thick snow, came into view. A narrow path was cleared in the courtyard, leading to a tightly closed wooden door, bearing the deep marks of time.

Cang Zhenye carefully placed Tianci in a sheltered spot under the porch, then took a deep breath and, with reverence and a touch of unease, gently knocked on the wooden door.

"Tap...tap tap..."

The knocking echoed through the silent valley. A moment later, there was a rustling sound from inside, followed by the soft click of the latch.

The wooden gate creaked open halfway. Chen Jiren, with white hair and beard but an unusually ruddy complexion, appeared in the doorway. He was wrapped in a worn blue cotton robe, and his figure was thin, but his eyes were clear and sharp, unlike those of an old man. They were like a cold spring in a mountain stream after a snowfall, instantly sweeping over the weathered faces of Cang Zhenye and his wife, and finally settling steadily on Cang Tianci's face.

Seeing that face, Chen Jiren recalled the boy he had seen in his meditative state. The features were so similar. Was it him? Was it the person he had been waiting for for over twenty years?

He stared intently at that face, a slight ripple in his heart, but his expression remained impassive. He wanted to see just what kind of person this disciple, whom he had waited so long for, truly was.

Tianci felt that gaze was as if it had weight and warmth, and he subconsciously wanted to avoid it, but he was firmly drawn in.

Chen Jiren's gaze slid from Tianci's face to his clenched fist, and then to his stiff, injured leg. Suddenly, he reached out and pressed down swiftly on the back of Tianci's uninjured left knee. Caught off guard, Tianci's leg muscles, constantly tense from long-term overuse, reflexively spasmed violently.

"Your muscles are cramped like a bow, and your qi is stagnant in your chest." Chen Jiren withdrew his hand, saw Tianci's blank expression, and couldn't help but smile. He continued, "Little boy, your body is too tense. External injuries are easy to treat, but if you can't release the qi in your heart and reduce the internal heat, you can't bring back the vitality of your muscles and bones."

These words struck Tianci like a thunderbolt. He looked up abruptly, staring incredulously at the unfamiliar old man. With a subtle movement, the man had directly revealed a physical state that Tianci himself hadn't even clearly perceived—a state that clearly stemmed from his long-suppressed anger, resentment, and fear!

"Mr. Chen," Cang Zhenye bowed hurriedly, his voice trembling with apprehension, "I'm bothering you again! My youngest son, Tianci, was practicing martial arts in the city, and he... he injured his leg! The hospital said... they're afraid he might be crippled... I beg you, sir, please take a look!"

Su Yumei stepped forward, handed over the bundle, and bowed, saying, "Mr. Chen, hello! These are some local specialties I made in the countryside. I had a little extra, so I specially set some aside for you. I hope you don't mind."

Chen Jiren glanced at the bundle, a hint of gentle emotion softening his usually composed face. He knew the Cang family's hardships; their claim of "having more" was merely a ploy to trick him into accepting this meager token of their affection. For over ten years, they had precisely timed their visits to his thatched cottage to send him gifts. The gifts were few, but each one was meticulously prepared. Especially the chili sauce and fermented bean curd, which had become essential items for his travels.

Chen Jiren took the bundle and said with a smile, "Mrs. Cang, you're too kind. It's like this every year, and it makes this old man feel bad."

Then, he turned slightly to the side: "It's cold outside, come in." His gaze swept over Tianci again, "Since you're here, it must be fate. Your legs need healing, and your heart needs peace too."

The wooden gate closed gently behind me, temporarily shutting out the swirling snow and endless confusion.