Ying groaned and turned to see WanSow's feet still rooted to the earth. She smiled at him. “How many chances do I get? I could do this all day.”

Ying stood and dusted himself off. “Well, I can't.”

“Are you planning to leave? Or are you going to keep your end of the deal and train with me?”

Ying frowned. “I'm going to keep my end of the deal, at least until I have to leave. Just make sure you keep your end.”

“Of course,” WanSow replied. “Feel free to try and accomplish your task anytime, any day. It is an important exercise in control to be ready at any given moment.”

“I'll remember that,” Ying said. “I should warn you, though, I am a very quick study.”

“We shall see,” WanSow said with a smirk. She looked up at the sky. “It will be dark soon. Come into the house. I suggest you get some rest. First thing tomorrow, your training begins.”

Ying woke early the next day, well before sunrise. He wanted some time alone before he began his training with his mother at daybreak. He put on his silk robe and pants but left his feet bare.

Ying slipped out of the house onto the cool, dew-drenched grass. A chill raced from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, making his scalp tingle. He savored it. It made him feel alive.

Ying rounded the back corner of the house and stopped dead in his tracks. Someone was outside, standing still as a statue. At least, that's what he thought at first. He soon realized that the person was actually moving incredibly slow. It was his mother.

Ying watched, hypnotized by how slowly she was moving. Her belly—not her chest—rose and fell steadily with each breath, much like the elderly people he had seen along the canal. Her movements were light and flowing, yet somehow heavy and dense at the same time. Like a rain cloud.

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Ying didn't know how long he stood watching her, but by the time his mother had finished, the sun was beginning to rise. She turned to him, seemingly in a trance. Then she blinked a few times, and Ying saw consciousness return to her eyes.

“Oh, good morning, Ying,” WanSow said in a gentle voice. “I didn't see you there.”

“I've been here quite some time,” he replied.

“I was meditating,” WanSow said. “That's what Tai Chi Chuan is, moving meditation.”

“That's what you're going to teach me, Tai Chi ?” Ying asked. “Is that what you used against me yesterday?”

WanSow nodded.

“I thought Tai Chi was a collection of movements and breathing exercises for old people.”

“It is internal and external exercise for anyone of any age. Elderly individuals particularly enjoy it because a person doesn't have to be big and strong or young and flexible to do it. It also happens to be a very effective fighting art. Tai Chi Chuan, or Tai Chi for short, is many things. Are you ready to begin?”

“Shouldn't we eat breakfast first?”

“No. Tai Chi is best done the moment you wake up.

It gives you energy for the entire day. We will start with a breathing exercise.”

“I already know how to breathe,” Ying said.

WanSow frowned. “This is serious. Breathing is the key to controlling and increasing your chi.”

“If you say so,” Ying said, rolling his eyes. “Teach me how to breathe. Maybe after that, you can teach me how to walk.”

“Walking comes later,” WanSow said. “After breathing, I will teach you how to stand. Now, do as I do … ”

Four hours later, Ying was still practicing just one breathing technique. He'd never been so bored in his life. They took a break for lunch, then spent the entire afternoon on just one standing posture. Ying was ready to pull his hair out.

By evening, Ying was certain he was going to lose his mind. He didn't have time for all this monotony. Tonglong was probably still on their tail, and Ying wasn't any closer to finding the treasure. This house still seemed like a logical place to hide it, so during his few training breaks he had poked around as much as possible, looking for clues. He found no sign of the treasure at all.

Ying went to bed early that night, more out of frustration than fatigue. He needed a plan to end this nonsense. He glanced around the room, looking for something that could help him. At the foot of the bed was an object that might just be his ticket out. It was a small trunk that stood about knee-high. That could work.

Ying made a mental note to stay in bed and pretend to oversleep so that his mother would come in and wake him. If he was lucky, by this time tomorrow he would be back in Hangzhou, his arms full of treasure.

“T here it is!” Charles announced. Starboard side. The famous apothecary. Prepare to dock.”




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