Tiger - Jeff Stone [36]
Tonglong closed his eyes.
“Look at me when I'm talking to you!” Ying shouted, baring his razor-sharp teeth. “How dare you respond this way? Do you have feelings for Grandmaster?”
“No!” Tonglong said. His head twitched slightly.
“What was that?” Ying said.
“What was what?”
“That twitch—” Ying said, leaning forward and staring over the flames. “Your head, it—”
“I have no idea what you're talking about!”
“Don't raise your voice to me!” Ying shouted. He leaped over the fire, his arms spread wide. He landed in front of Tonglong. “You know what? Now that I think about it, I didn't see you slay a single monk in our attack on Cangzhen. Do you have some kind of tie to Cangzhen? To Grandmaster? What are you up to, Cantonese man!”
“Don't be ridiculous,” Tonglong said, turning away. “During the attack, I stayed back in order to watch our men in action. As your number one soldier, that is part of my job.”
“I'm not sure I believe you,” Ying said. “Remind me why it is that I selected you as my number one.”
“You chose me for my loyalty,” Tonglong said, turning back to face Ying. “And for my fighting skills.”
“I chose you for your fighting skills,” Ying replied. “I know nothing of your loyalties. I am beginning to get suspicious of you.”
“Suspicious? Whatever for? Did I not prove my loyalty by handing over my family sword when you asked for it earlier?”
“You did, but you hesitated. Also, you returned far too quickly from your delivery assignment to the Emperor.”
“Sir,” Tonglong said, standing straight. “What can I do to prove myself to you?”
“Catch me a crane.”
“Done.”
Fu woke to the warm sun on his face and the smell of freshly baked buns wafting through the air. He felt refreshed and extraordinarily pleasant as he thought about the wonderful breakfast he would soon have. Freshly baked buns weren't often served at Cangzhen, and he couldn't wait to dig in. As he listened to his brothers' anxious voices in the distance, he realized something. Those weren't his brothers' voices.
Fu opened his eyes and saw bamboo bars all around him. He sat up and remembered where he was. Then he remembered what he had come to the village to do. Fu paid close attention to the two voices moving quickly along the far side of the tall hedge bordering the village square.
“Come on!” Ma said. “Let's GO!”
“No, thanks,” Ho replied. “I don't feel like it.”
“Trust me, it will make you feel ten times better.”
“I don't think so.”
“It will make you feel one hundred times better!”
“I doubt it.”
“How do you know unless you try?”
“Just leave me alone, okay?”
“No way. You're coming with me.”
Fu heard scuffling. Someone grunted.
“You're hurting me,” Ho said.
“Quit complaining,” Ma replied. “We're almost there.”
Fu sat up when he saw the boys approaching, the large one with the smaller one draped over his shoulder. Ma set Ho down in front of the cage and stood beside him.
“Watch,” Ma said. He inhaled deeply through his nose, making a tremendous noise as he constricted his windpipe just the right amount. A wad of thick mucus was slowly drawn out of his nose and into the back of his throat. With his windpipe still constricted, Ma forced air out of his lungs and popped the wad out of his throat and into his mouth. Then he raised his lower lip up to contain the glob and spoke slowly as a line of saliva slipped out, running down his chin.
“Catch this, monk,” he slurred.
Ma closed his mouth around the lump and pursed his lips. He inhaled deeply through his nose, curled his tongue, and let it fly
Fu didn't flinch. He watched as the glob hit one of the bamboo cage bars, sticking briefly before oozing slowly downward.
“So close!” Ma said, wiping his mouth across his robe's gray sleeve. “I think I have enough ammo for one more shot—”
“Excuse me,” Fu interrupted. “May I say something?”
Ma pointed his finger at Fu and glared. “You