“Yes, sir,” Captain Yue said. He swallowed hard.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ying snarled. “Choose your men, mount that demon stallion of yours, and GO!”
The day was drawing to a close, and the entire village was gathered in the square watching Fu teach nearly one hundred children one kung fu technique each from inside the cage. There were boys and girls alike, each taking a turn standing just outside the cage bars for their personal instruction. Several of the boys complained about girls being involved until Fu told them that he would not teach any of the boys anything if they didn't stop complaining. Moreover, he informed the boys that more than a few women had been “nuns” at temples throughout China, including the famous Shaolin Temple. Fu assured the boys that if they ever crossed paths with a warrior “nun,” they would want to be sure to keep their negative thoughts about girls to themselves.
The whole time, there was much talk among the parents as to whether Fu's kung fu course should be stopped immediately—especially with girls involved. However, in the end, most of the parents agreed that since no one had gotten hurt and the kids seemed to be enjoying themselves, the training could continue. The day was warm, and the atmosphere in the square was pleasant. The same could not be said for the atmosphere inside the bun vendor's shop. It was hot in there. Very hot, indeed.
“I say we let him go,” one man said. “He's obviously not a bad kid. He just made a mistake.”
“Not a bad kid?” another shouted. “Look at poor little Ho! He's been sitting in that corner all day with one ear cocked in our direction because his other one doesn't work!”
Ho stood up and shouted back across the crowded room. “My head has been straight for hours! Not cocked! And I already told you—my hearing is returning!”
The Governor stood and put his hand on Ho's shoulder. The room quieted down. The Governor leaned over.
“What has gotten into you, son? I've never seen you like this before.”
Ho plopped back down in his chair. “I've never been this upset before, Father. I hate when people argue, and I really hate when people argue over me. I'm the one who has suffered most, and I still think we should let the monk go. Just as long as he promises not to attack anyone from our village ever again. What's done is done. Past is past. That's what you always say, isn't it?”
The Governor sat down, facing Ho. He rested his forearms on his knees. “That is very big of you, son. But it's not that simple. There are a lot of politics involved. The main thing is, I've already sent two men to inform Major Ying of the young monk's capture. If soldiers arrive to collect him and he's not here, the soldiers will be very, very angry. So angry, in fact, that they may destroy our entire village. I've seen it before.”
A man in the crowd said bitterly, “So what are we going to do, Governor? Just hand the boy over—and sentence him to death?”
“Don't be ridiculous!” someone shouted. “We don't know that he will be killed.”
“They killed all his brothers and destroyed his entire temple!” another shouted back. “That's what that captain said! I say we let the monk go. If the soldiers give us a hard time, we'll just say that the boy escaped.”
“If he ‘escapes,' the entire village will be destroyed!”
“You don't know that! You wouldn't know a—”
The voices inside the bun shop grew louder and louder. So loud, in fact, that Fu heard every word. He knew he had to do something to help make things right, but what? He was struggling to come up with a plan when Ma appeared carrying a terra-cotta roasting pot.
“Here,” Ma said, forcing the pot between the bars of the cage. “I asked my mother to make this for you. It's her famous Greasy Goose. I also brought you a needle and some thread to fix your robe and your pants.”
“Thanks,” Fu said. He made a strange face as he reached for the items.
“I know, sewing is woman's work,” Ma said. “But you really should cover yourself up better.”
Sewing wasn't the reason Fu had made the face. Everyone had a job at Cangzhen, and Fu's happened to be mending everyone else's torn robes and pants. He was actually quite good at it. It was the food that made his face turn sour. Fu removed the lid and winced. Though he loved chicken and even duck, he had problems with goose. Especially Greasy Goose. The one time he'd eaten it, his stomach hadn't been the same for an entire day. Fu put the lid back on the pot and pushed it aside.
“Aaah … thank you very much,” Fu said. “I'll… eat it later.”
“Later?” Ma said. “Aren't you hungry? My mother made it just for you, you know. She feels sorry for you. She said no child should ever be locked in a cage.”