Three
“This story very very old, more than three thousand years,” LiuPing began. “There was a great inventor, very famous. He invented many great and useful things, things that helped all people. All the people loved him and he grew very wealthy and wise. His name was FuXia but, no one called him by his name, everyone call him ‘The Master’!
FuXia grew old and no longer invented things himself. Instead he trained a very clever apprentice whose name was Ts’ang Chieh. Now, Ts’ang Chieh was a very clever inventor indeed, almost as clever as The Master himself, but he was not so old and not so very wise. Sometimes he invented things that were not useful and sometimes he invented things that could cause great harm. The Master had always exercised great caution with his own inventions. He knew there were things that could be made which might look like wonderful things but which could actually cause great harm. The Master knew that in time Ts’ang Chieh would grow in wisdom and would himself be able to judge if something were good or bad. However, for the time being, he wanted to keep an eye on what Ts’ang Chieh was creating. So, every other month on the new moon Ts’ang Chieh brought all he had been working on and presented it to The Master to be evaluated.
Now, it was the day before the new moon and Ts’ang Chieh had been working very hard. With all his heart he wanted to please The Master with his inventions. This time he had created some wonderful things and he was sure The Master would give him great praise.
He had been working so very hard and it was a warm day so he decided to take a walk along the river in the cool shade of the great trees that grew there. As he walked along he noticed tracks of some type of an animal in the damp mud of the riverbank. Being of a curious nature he stopped to examine them more closely to see if he could figure out what had made the meandering tracks. Try as he might he could not. Frustrated but not yet defeated, he decided to sit in a hollow under a great tree and wait, hoping that whatever creature had made the tracks would return and he would have his answer. He waited and waited but there was nothing. After a while all his hard work caught up with him and he dozed off.
He awoke to the sound of footsteps, stealthy footsteps. He was very startled and as he struggled to clear the cobwebs of sleep from his brain and gain his feet he heard something very fast dash off along the riverbank headed upstream. Ts’ang Chieh saw it was now late in the day and would be getting dark soon. He needed to get home. It wasn’t safe to be out after dark… one might get eaten. Those thoughts and the realization that some creature had gotten very close to him as he slept frightened him and he burst out from under the tree in a dash. He didn’t make it more than three steps before he tripped over something, something covered in coarse fur, smelling like death itself, crouching in the path.
Ts’ang Chieh lie face down in the dust of the path whimpering softly, waiting for the pain of wild fangs tearing into his flesh he knew was imminent. Realizing his life was about to end, disappointment coursed though him, ‘I haven’t even invented anything important yet!’ This one thought fired his courage and he resolved that he would not be an easy meal for a beast. He was meant for greater things than that.
Summoning all his strength, with a primal scream Ts’ang Chieh sprang to his feet and whirled to face his fate. He was prepared to fight to the death with his bare hands and teeth. He was prepared to face the fear and pain the next moments, possibly the last of his life, would bring. He was prepared to fight for his life against a great and wild beast and, maybe, lose. He was not prepared for the laughter that erupted from the beast or the ridicule.
‘You silly little man. You scare away the fine stag I’ve been tracking without even a glimpse of it since morning but planned on eating for dinner. You run over me as I’m minding my own business trying to recover its trail. And, now you want to fight?’ The fur clad figure laughed, ‘You’re so scrawny I wouldn’t even break a sweat fighting you. And the way you scream!’ At this the figure burst into such a laughing fit he finally had to sit down in the dusty path and put his head between his knees in order to catch his breath.
For his own part Ts’ang Chieh just stood there, mouth agape, staring at the convulsing hunter. ‘Yes, he must be a hunter,’ Ts’ang Chieh thought, ‘no one else would dress so ridiculously or, smell so bad.’ He scrunched-up his nose and, trying to regain some dignity said, ‘I’m sorry. I was asleep under the tree and something startled me. Then, I tripped over you in the path and thought you were some kind of beast and that I was sure to be eaten alive. Naturally I felt I needed to defend myself.’
‘Defend yourself! Defend yourself? Is that what you were doing?’ Again the hunter launched into another uncontrolled fit of laughter.
At first Ts’ang Chieh was offended but, as he thought more about it he realized just how ridiculous he must look to someone who survived by killing wild animals. Surely he would be no match for the hunter, or, especially for the beast he had imagined was stalking him. He started to laugh along with the hunter. Suddenly something occurred to Ts’ang Chieh, something the hunter had said.
‘Wait, wait. You said that you were tracking a great stag but, you haven’t even seen it! How do you know it was a stag, let alone a great one?
‘Well, by its tracks of course. You can learn many things about an animal by its tracks,’ the hunter replied.
Ts’ang Chieh thought back to his frustration with the tracks in the mud earlier in the day. Maybe this hunter could help. ‘I saw some interesting tracks earlier and was trying to figure out what had made them but, I couldn’t. That’s why I fell asleep under the tree… I was waiting for whatever made the tracks to return. Do you think maybe you could look at the tracks and tell me what made them?’ The hunter simply nodded his head and Ts’ang Chieh led him over to where he had seen the curious tracks.
The hunter knelt down and studied the tracks. He lightly pressed on the mud along the edges. He picked up a small piece of mud and rolled it into a ball between his fingers. He sniffed it. With an air of solemn finality he said, ‘Waiting for these animals to return won’t work. They are very rare and only pass through this place once a lifetime. It is very rare indeed to even see their tracks for you see; these are the tracks of the Fenghuang.”
Ts’ang Chieh gasped, ‘The Fenghuang, the phoenix bird!? That’s impossible they are things of legend! It’s said they no longer walk the Earth. How can you know that these are the tracks of the king of all birds?’
The hunter shrugged, ‘It’s really quite simple. I was taught to hunt and track by my grandfather, who was taught by his grandfather, who was in turn taught by his grandfather, as is the way of our people. In this way none of the old things are forgotten. My grandfather taught me to see through the tracks to the animal beyond them. You see, each and every animal’s track is different and these differences point to the differences in the animals themselves. In this way, the tracks of an individual animal will also change as the animal changes. One who has been taught to see these things, as my grandfather taught me, can look at the tracks and see the animal. Now, I have never in my life looked upon the tracks of the Fenghuang but, my great-great grandfather did and he has passed that knowledge to the generations who followed him. I know that these are the tracks of the king of birds,’ he paused. ‘This is a day of great joy as all have believed that the Fenghuang no longer walks the earth. But, it is also a day of sadness as I can see from the tracks that this bird is very old and has little life remaining. I believe it may be the last of its kind. These tracks are a powerful omen of great change in the world.’
At this the hunter stopped talking. He ignored the rapid-fire questions Ts’ang Chieh shot at him. A faraway look came into his eyes and he walked off following the almost forgotten trail of the stag.
Ts’ang Chieh started back toward home his mind filled with wonder. Imagine, he had found tracks of the great Fenghuang! This was indeed a wonderful find but what did it mean? Things like this were believed to be omens of things to come. ‘I must be on the verge of a great invention,’ Ts’ang Chieh thought. ‘But, what could it possibly be? Certainly none of the inventions I have for The Master tomorrow.’
Sleep came very hard for Ts’ang Chieh that night. When he awoke it was early morning. He had slept restlessly and his dreams were filled with great birds and the words of the hunter filled his head ‘…can see through the tracks and see the animal beyond them.’ Something about that phrase haunted him. He needed more time to think before he saw The Master.
He called for his servant Paopao. Ts’ang Chieh rarely trusted Paopao as he tended to be a bit mischievous. Paopao also wanted to be an inventor but his creativity only extended to stretching the truth and making excuses and he was not above saying the ideas of others belonged to him. Still, the boy had some uses if he were supervised. No matter, the errand for today required no creativity.
‘Paopao, you are to go to The Master’s compound and give him a message.’ Paopao looked disappointed.
‘Now pay attention! You are to tell The Master that I am working on a great invention but, it is not ready yet. Regretfully, I will not be able to come today but will have something wonderful to show him in two moons time.’
‘But, what are you working on that’s so important that you won’t go see The Master?’ Paopao began. ‘He might be angry… angry at me, the simple messenger,’ he whined.
‘You should not be so worried about The Master being angry with you when I’m much closer to you boy!’
‘But, what are you working on? I haven’t seen you start anything new.’
‘You miserable wretch! How dare you question me! Now, deliver my message immediately or it will be back to the pig farm for you!’
As Paopao scurried off, Ts’ang Chieh began to pace. ‘…can look through the tracks and see the animal… why does that seem so important?’
He decided it might help to go back to the riverbank and study the tracks again. He turned and hurried off to the place he had seen the tracks of the great Fenghuang the day before without even taking the time to eat breakfast. To his great dismay the tracks were no longer there. A great sadness washed over him and he slumped to the ground right on the river’s edge, the wet of the early morning dew soaking through his clothing. A wave of despair washed over him as he realized he had not only not gone to meet The Master but he had also promised a great invention in two moons time. What a fool he was. He had nothing, not even the tracks remained. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe he himself should go work the pig farm.
As he sat in the cold wet grass thinking even colder thoughts, the sun rose in the sky and, oblivious to Ts’ang Chieh’s plight, the day warmed. Still Ts’ang Chieh sat unmoving. So still he sat, a wild cormorant, taking a break from chasing fish, swam up to the muddy bank where he was sitting, waddled up and sat right at Ts’ang Chieh’s feet. Ts’ang Chieh stared at the prints the ungainly bird had made in the mud, so different than those of the mighty Fenghuang. ‘…can look through the tracks and see the animal.’
He began to think, ‘How can you see the animal?’
A large fish sucked an insect from the still surface of the river creating radiating concentric rings. ‘Nice fish,’ he immediately thought, ‘but, how do I know that? How do I know a fish is indeed a fish?’
He looked again at the tracks in the mud. ‘So different from the tracks of the Fenghuang, and,’ he paused, ‘so very different from the tracks of the fish.’
Suddenly it hit him and he shouted startling the cormorant. ‘The tracks, those scratches in the mud, represent what made them.’ He stopped, smiled. ‘Everything in the world has different tracks… what if everything could be represented by scratches in the mud!”
The ringing of John’s cell phone yanked him back into the twenty-first century. It was his wife wondering where he was. It was getting dark and he was late and she was worried and the kids needed a bath. John hung up, sighed, his respite over.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “I really appreciate you trying to help me. The tea was great but, I’m afraid I don’t understand the story at all.”
LiuPing laughed, “Of course you don’t understand story! It’s just starting!”
“Well, I’m sorry I won’t get to hear the rest of it.” John stood and started for his jacket. “I really need to go but, could you explain one thing real fast? What was all that about ‘scratches in the mud’?”
“You really don’t understand! So much to learn before your story is ready! Oh well, we take baby steps. Just like eating an elephant!”
John just stood there looking confused. He shook his head and started to tie his scarf. “Eating an elephant?”
“One bite at a time!” LiuPing chuckled. “You come back soon. I tell you more of the story!”
John headed for the door. As he headed down the stairwell LiuPing called down to him, “Hey California, you want the answer to the scratches in the mud?”
John answered back, only a little sarcastically, “I’d love some answers!”
“The scratches in the mud… Ts’ang Chieh invented writing!”
John’s last thoughts as he headed home were, “Well, that explains a lot around here.”
