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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Twenty-One: Gun King
After the incident of the Romantic Encounter, I found it hard to calm my mind. I didn't want to seek out Old Bi anymore; just seeing him reminded me of someone else. I had no desire to go back to the bar either. I owed Company Commander a few cigarettes from my previous visits, and with my salary barely over a thousand, I couldn't afford it.
On a weekend morning, I flipped through the contacts on my old phone and saw Big Yellow's name. To my surprise, his name was Huang Qiusheng! How interesting; I never expected such a serious person to have that name. After thinking for a moment, I dialed his number.
"Hello?" There was the usual silence on the other end. "Do you have time? Let's go out for a drink." I got straight to the point.
"When?"
"This afternoon."
"Where?"
"Contact me when you reach the city center."
It felt a bit like an underground meeting, and I couldn't help but smile wryly. The police officer in my memory was capable, sharp, and cautious—someone who made a good impression on me. We met at a restaurant for lunch, both in plain clothes. As soon as we sat down, I asked him directly, "Are you planning to stand behind me to prevent my escape?"
"Yes."
"Do you think you can stop me?"
"I don't know."
"Have you practiced martial arts?"
"A little."
"Could you say a few more words?"
"I can't!"
I opened a bottle of beer and tossed it to him. "Alright then, Brothers can only treat you to this. Thanks for last time."
"No need to thank me."
Well, it was back and forth like this. I didn't say much more. When the food arrived, I poured myself another drink and downed it with him. It quickly became clear that his drinking capacity was nowhere near mine; after three bottles of beer, he started slurring his words and became more talkative.
"Your name is quite interesting."
"That's my dad, Huang, and my mom, Qiu. Not Huang Qiusheng?"
"Hahaha, brother, I find you quite friendly. What year were you born?"
"81."
"Oh, I'm older than you. I was born in 80. I'll call you Brother."
"Brother! You are my Brother! I really like the military. I wanted to enlist but couldn't, so I ended up becoming a police officer!"
"Wow, military and police are like family! Come on, let's have a drink." I didn't really want to pressure him; I just wanted someone to drink with. Who knew he couldn't hold his liquor as well as I could?
"Yeah, looking at your Buzz Cut, it feels familiar." Is there really such a saying? I thought to myself.
"Hey, Brother, about what happened last time, I'm sorry. I couldn't help you."
"Forget it, it's all in the past. I'm really grateful for your call last time! Brother, I see you're quite agile; you must have some skills. Let's spar sometime?"
"Hey, Brother, let's not compare fists and kicks. I admit defeat. When it comes to weapons, you're out of your league!" Oh, this is getting interesting; he's still acting tough even when drunk?
"Weapons? Brother, I use a stick. What about you?"
"A gun!"
A gun? "Pistol or automatic rifle? Haha, I'm not bad with those either. You might not necessarily win against me."
"No, a long spear—an ancient long spear!"
I was taken aback; it's rare to see people using guns in modern society—most are for performances. Big Yellow clearly knows Kung Fu; I could tell from the thick calluses on his hands that he had trained extensively. I initially thought he used a stick and wanted to learn some Kung Fu to teach Old Bi and Zhang Xing, but it turns out he uses a spear!
"Can you handle it, Brothers? Do you have an indoor Venue over there? Let's practice a few moves?" My interest was piqued. After settling the bill, I followed the swaying Big Yellow to their training ground. I casually picked up a white wax stick while watching Big Yellow walk over to a corner and select a spear from the Squad Leader's rack, holding it in his right hand as he approached me.
I looked at the wooden tip of the spear, which was blunt. I estimated that being hit wouldn't hurt too much, so I called out to Big Yellow, "Brother, let's officially begin."
Big Yellow remained still, his feet positioned apart. He held the spear behind him with his right hand, the tip resting on the ground while the tail protruded significantly from his left side. A master! The entire atmosphere shifted; he exuded an aura of unassailable strength, like an impregnable fortress!
I knew that a spear was longer than a stick. As the saying goes, "An inch longer is an inch stronger; an inch shorter is an inch more dangerous." To defeat Big Yellow, I had to get close. If I could close the distance, I could use my stick to block his thrusts. Without distance, there would be no speed and even less power, giving me a chance to take him down!
"Ha!" I shouted softly and stepped forward, aiming the tip of my stick at his chest. As soon as he tried to block, I would press against his spear and pivot around it, using either end of my stick to sweep at him. Once I took the initiative, my stick technique would become overwhelmingly aggressive.
"Good!" Big Yellow's eyes lit up as he suddenly spun to his right. Using his right leg as a pivot, he stepped back with his left leg, increasing the distance between us once again! As he created space, Big Yellow pressed down on the tail of his spear with his left hand while simultaneously launching a thrust with his right hand. With a whoosh, the spearhead darted toward me like a venomous snake.
"Bang!" The spearhead met my stick head-on. My hands jolted from the impact, but I was even more shocked inside. He had reacted faster than me and could clearly see my stick's trajectory, accurately judging its position. If I were in his place, I knew I couldn't have done that. His reflexes, speed, and strength were far beyond mine!
I cursed inwardly; damn it! Truly skilled fighters are found among the common folk! But my hands couldn't stop moving. I withdrew my stick and gathered strength again to aim for his head. Unexpectedly, he held the spear with one hand and just as my stick approached his face, he struck it hard with a swift motion. My stick lost direction and veered off to the side. Before I could react, Big Yellow flicked his wrist, and the spearhead traced an arc in the air before landing heavily on my left shoulder!
I staggered back a few steps—impressive! Indeed impressive! While I could hold my own against Old Bi for half a match, I lost to Big Yellow in just two moves. His spear technique was far superior to Old Bi's. How could there be such a formidable fighter? It was unbelievable! On an ancient battlefield, with this strength, judgment, and reaction speed, he would be unstoppable!
I simply dropped my stick on the ground and admitted defeat. "I concede! We're not on the same level."
He chuckled slyly and said, "This is just my training spear; it's two meters long and weighs ten kilograms. If I used my family heirloom iron spear—two point four meters long and twenty-four kilograms—you wouldn't last a single round."
I thought about it; that was indeed true. My stick was only one point eight meters long; I'd probably get hit before even getting close enough to strike. This realization left me feeling quite disheartened. I had hoped to at least land a few hits but ended up losing in an instant.
"How long have you been practicing with your stick?" "A year!" I hesitated but admitted I'd only practiced for three months. "Oh?" Big Yellow's face showed slight surprise. "Well then, you're doing quite well; very few people can last two rounds under my spear."
Tsk tsk—what does that mean? Does everyone else lose after just one exchange? Would it kill you to be less arrogant? Feeling frustrated, I walked over and sat beside him on the venue floor. "Tell me about your background; it feels impressive—is it a family tradition?"
"Yes," he replied. "My father taught me this Wu Family Spear Technique; however, it's incomplete now. It's mainly about coordinating footwork with spear techniques to achieve an effect of overcoming length with skill and overpowering weakness with strength." Wow! Even incomplete techniques are so powerful! I began to yearn for Yue Fei's spear techniques or Yang Family Spear techniques—how do they compare?
Just then, he said something startling.
"My father used to be a Special Police Martial Arts Instructor at the Public Security Bureau; both his spear techniques and hand-to-hand skills are exceptional. I've learned everything from him; however, I've focused more on spear techniques than on hand-to-hand combat." Big Yellow gazed at his long spear with fervor in his eyes. "Just imagine wielding a long spear on an ancient battlefield—sweeping through enemies like that would be so glorious!"
"Is your dad really that impressive?"
"Twelve-Year-Old Provincial Martial Arts Competition, Spear Champion. At fourteen, I participated in the National Martial Arts Association's internal competition as the Spear Champion. By eighteen, I had joined the National Martial Arts Association, and by twenty-two, I had not encountered any opponents in spear techniques."
I clicked my tongue in disbelief. "So how do you compare to your father?"
Big Yellow glanced at me. "He's not as good as I am. I defeated him with a training spear when I was eighteen!" Wow, this guy really has the skills to back up his arrogance!
Thinking back on the three months of hard work I put in, only to lose to Big Yellow in two moves, I looked at him with some sympathy. "How much effort did you put into this? How much did you suffer?"
"Not much hardship, and not much fatigue," Big Yellow said casually. "I have a sleepwalking condition that I've had since forever. Almost all my practice is done in my sleep. I often think it's just a dream, but I'm actually out in the Rural Home courtyard practicing with the spear. When I wake up, I just feel particularly exhausted."
Is that even possible? Isn't that like cheating in a video game? Seriously, it's too outrageous! I was speechless; whenever I hit the bed, I fell asleep instantly and dreamed nothing all night! This guy can practice spear techniques while asleep?
I looked at him incredulously. "What about now? Do you still sleepwalk around and practice?"
"Not anymore. Ever since I defeated my father, it has gradually decreased and now it's completely gone. My father consulted a psychologist who said it was a form of self-suggestion combined with hypnosis. Once the suggestion faded, the sleepwalking stopped."
"Oh, congratulations! At this rate, all you have to do is suggest to yourself that you're capable, and then practice day and night without distinction—who could possibly surpass you? You’re basically the Gun King!" I recalled what Big Yellow had told me during our phone call about the Romantic Encounter Incident; no wonder he was so professional and detailed last time—he must have done his research and understood all the intricacies.
Big Yellow smiled. "It's not that simple; it requires strong motivation and the right opportunities. It's not easy at all. As for my sleepwalking, that's nothing compared to a case related to it—do you want to hear about it?"
The story of Gun King concludes here. Next episode preview: Sleepwalking.
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