Chapter 16
Shifu left, leaving me alone with the lotus. He moved to the far bank of the pond to continue instructing the Five, and I gave my full attention to my own problem.
Something unexpected had woken up inside me — the eagerness of a researcher. I had finally grasped the point: the goal wasn't to make my body obey me, it was to learn how to listen to it. I stopped fighting the rocking of the lotus and started studying its rhythm.
I created a new training cycle: climb onto the platform, find equilibrium, fall, climb again. But now I wasn't mechanically repeating movements — I was learning to feel. With every attempt I could stand a little longer, because I had stopped commanding my body and started hearing its signals.
Gradually an extraordinary wordless dialogue developed between us. My body itself offered barely perceptible corrections: shift the weight slightly here, soften the knees, let the shoulders drop. I gave no orders — I listened to this quiet feedback and followed it.
In those moments I wasn't thinking about any philosophy of kung fu. My entire attention was occupied with feeling how the muscles worked, how the joints moved, how the weight distributed. Through trial and error I was learning to understand the most complex mechanism available to me — my own body — and to trust its wisdom more than the instructions of my stubborn mind.
At some point, surfacing briefly from my small private world of balance, I caught motion at the far end of the pond.
While I had been occupied with my own work, the Furious Five had been training in the middle of the pond, on tiny and unstable lotus platforms. Shifu stood nearby on a small raft, directing them without raising his voice.
Their training was not the static exercise I was doing. It was a dance. The thing I was working so hard to achieve — standing still — was for them merely a starting point. They moved across those platforms — fluidly, swiftly, powerfully. Their bodies weren't simply stable on the rocking surfaces; they were fused with the motion, using momentum for strikes, impulse for leaps, the resistance of the water for smooth transitions.
I went still, forgetting my own lotus for a moment, and simply watched. This was the unity of mind and body that Shifu spoke about. Not an abstract concept — a physical reality made flesh and blood.
And at that exact moment, without interrupting his instructions to the Five, Shifu slowly turned his head and met my eyes. He didn't smile. Didn't nod. He simply looked. And in his gaze I read: *You have something to work toward, Panda.*
I decided not to get distracted any further and returned to my attempts.
The rest of the afternoon passed in this way. The sun was tilting toward the horizon, painting the pond in gold and crimson, when Shifu gave the signal without raising his voice:
"That's enough for today. Come here."
His words carried no tone of command — just a simple statement. The session was over. For the Five, who instantly froze in perfect stances on their lotus platforms as though at a switch, then slid silently across the water to the bank. And for me, who at that particular moment was in the middle of an inelegant but less catastrophic-than-usual slide off my post into the water.
I climbed out onto the bank — soaked, tired, but with a clarity of mind that felt unfamiliar — and joined the group assembled before Shifu. We stood before the Master while he passed his perceptive gaze across each of us in turn, resting on each person a little longer than usual.
"You worked well today," he began with approval, his voice carrying a particular weight in the evening quiet. "Each at your own level."
I noticed the Five's eyes going slightly wide, their mouths nearly dropping open. *Interesting — why that reaction? Does he praise them so rarely?* The thought moved through me quickly. *Or is it because he praised all of us, including me?*
Shifu appeared not to register their reaction, or chose not to.
"Don't forget what you felt on the water today. Harmony is not only in balance. It is in every movement you make, every decision. Tomorrow we continue here."
He paused briefly, and the gaze that had been warm and approving an instant before became dry and settled directly on me.
"As the training hall is undergoing repairs, and progress on restoring it remains unfortunately slow," Shifu said in a reproachful tone.
Under the weight of that look I couldn't quite hold his eyes and shifted mine away, doing my best to project the impression that I had no idea what he was referring to.
"But, Master—" Tigress asked quietly but persistently. "When will it be ready?"
*Of course,* I thought inwardly. *Who else. She must already be missing the sound of her bones creaking on that equipment.*
Shifu answered with the deep, weary look of a man repeating himself for the hundredth time:
"We are currently searching for a qualified mechanic. The one who served the Jade Palace recently departed for the capital. And inconveniently took all the mechanical schematics with him."
*What remarkably well-timed timing. Though who am I to complain? The longer the repairs take, the longer before I end up back in that torture chamber,* I thought, not entirely without spite.
"Can nothing be done?" Tigress asked, looking at Shifu in a way that was almost pleading.
He seemed to hesitate under the pressure of her persistent gaze. He started to say something, then reconsidered, and an unusual shadow of indecision passed through his eyes.
"There is one way to have everything repaired," he said at last, reluctantly. "But it requires going to the creator of the mechanisms. And that particular option…" Shifu exhaled. "…does not appeal to me. This is, in any case, the first time the mechanisms have been damaged so… catastrophically."
*The creator of the mechanisms.* My mind immediately produced an image: a reclusive ancient hermit on a distant mountaintop who greets visitors with traps and rockslides.
A short, eloquent pause followed, during which I became aware that not three but six pairs of eyes were now resting on me — Shifu and all five of the Five. The looks ranged from Tigress's sharp irritation to Monkey's barely suppressed laugh.
I arranged my expression into one of wounded innocence and focused intently on the patterns of the wet stones underfoot.
"Go rest," Shifu said, putting an end to it.
The Five bowed and dispersed. This time I didn't linger and headed for the barracks at the front of the group, leaving behind the pond painted crimson by the setting sun, and the feeling that tomorrow promised to be no less… eventful.
"Honestly, why did I wash at the waterfall if I was going to end up just as wet in the pond anyway," I muttered, walking alongside Crane and Monkey.
***
"You washed at the waterfall?" Crane asked with genuine surprise. "Why?"
"Don't you wash there too?" I answered, not following.
"No," Crane shook his head. "We wash in the bathhouse. Just over there, actually." He gestured a wing toward a neat building from whose chimney a light steam was rising. "There's a thermal spring. We use the waterfall for meditation."
His answer left me feeling distinctly awkward. My expression apparently said as much, because Crane and Monkey exchanged a meaningful look.
"Your own fault," Monkey snorted, nudging me cheerfully with an elbow. "Why didn't you just ask? Did you think we were that uncivilized?"
"Something like that," I muttered with embarrassment. *Though given recent events around here, the question of who's the masochist seems open.*
Monkey dissolved into his ringing laugh, very nearly folding himself in half.
"All right, new arrival," said Crane, watching the scene with a faint smile. "Since you worked so hard today, it's past time you relaxed. Come on — I'll show you what passes for paradise around here."
On the way I couldn't shake a strange feeling. The way these two were treating me had clearly shifted, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly what I had done.
We entered the building. The air was thick and damp, carrying the smell of heated stone and a light, sharp mixture of medicinal herbs. The walls were massive, blackened with age, and clearly remembered the earliest students of the Jade Palace. The whole space was bathed in a warm half-darkness, with only the flames of bronze lanterns hanging from heavy beams casting flickering, dancing shadows on the stone.
The building was divided into several rooms. As soon as we entered, Tigress and Viper, without a word, turned into a side passage — veiled in bluish steam and framed by a carved stone arch bearing the sign of Yin. The women's section, obviously. I stayed with the others in the shared area.
And in the very first room I saw, to my surprise, something resembling showers: powerful streams of hot water poured from copper fixtures shaped like dragon heads in the wall, falling noisily into round stone basins with drains. A little further along were floor recesses — something like local jacuzzis — where the water was calm and milky turquoise, lightly misted with steam, carrying a faint scent of sulfur and healing herbs.
***
Ten minutes later I finally lowered myself into one of the enormous stone basins filled with hot water. The moment I sank to my neck, my body exhaled with relief — the tension literally flowing out of the muscles, dissolving into the steaming water.
Mantis had settled himself on a nearby ledge. A little further along, Crane stood almost up to his neck. Monkey, arranged on a submerged bench, was idly moving his toes, sending small ripples across the surface.
"You know, I thought today's session was going to be… well, the usual torture," I began, working a numb paw, relishing the feel of hot water driving out the stiffness in my muscles. "But it turned out to actually be interesting. Though I'm still a long way from harmony — sometimes my body doesn't hear me, sometimes I don't hear it."
"Patience, Po," Mantis said, his relaxed voice carrying an almost paternal warmth. "You have ability. Not genius — but real potential. Honestly, I find it a little frightening to imagine what you'll be capable of when body and mind start working together."
"Balance of body and mind?" I asked. "That sounds like some kind of shamanic chant. What does it actually mean? And when should I expect these miraculous changes?"
Crane made a soft sound beside me, somewhere between a laugh and a clearing of the throat.
"You already started that journey today. Standing on the lotus."
"So all that rocking…" I began.
"That is the foundation of everything," Monkey cut in, dropping a hand into the water with a splash. "Balance, control, breathing — all together. You're looking for the point where your body stops arguing with your head. Once you find it, kung fu stops being a collection of disconnected movements. You'll feel it… here." He pressed a fist to his chest.
"And how long does it usually take to find that balance?" I asked, as an aside.
Monkey gave a meaningful sound:
"Some people are lucky enough to find it in childhood, intuitively. Some fight for days, months. And some never find it at all."
"I take it you all fell into the first category?" I suggested.
"Close," Crane said, drawing a wing lazily through the water. "As far as I know, only Tigress had to consciously seek that balance with Shifu's guidance. The rest of us were… luckier, let's say."
Their words gave me something to think about. If this inner balance was the key to everything, what came after it? The answer practically stated itself: that legendary energy.
"What does it actually take to master qi?" I couldn't help asking.
"Whoa, new arrival — too early to be thinking about that," Crane shook his head. "First learn to feel your body and achieve static balance. Then find dynamic balance — moving without losing harmony. After that, perhaps, you'll touch something called the Flow, where even thoughts of movement disappear. And only after long training in genuine meditation—"
"Actually—" Mantis cut in, and the equivalent of his chitinous eyebrows arched with sly intent. "If you want the essential core of what Shifu explained today… For conscious control of qi, there are two paths. Either you develop in yourself a titanic degree of self-mastery, or—" he made a dramatic pause — "you achieve the highest harmony, becoming one not only with body and mind, but with your own soul. And it isn't enough to understand this intellectually — you have to dissolve your entire being into that state."
I listened to this with the expression of someone following along, while internally just throwing up my hands. *Very impressive and completely incomprehensible. Lofty matters like 'unity with the soul' are clearly not for me. At least not right now.*
Far more useful than foggy philosophies was to focus on what I could actually work toward. First — achieve that balance in motion, so I'd stop falling off the lotus with every step. The Flow could remain a distant dream for now. But both felt like more realistic goals than wrestling with one's soul.
"And all of that is still ahead of all of us," Crane added, closing the topic.
After those words a brief silence settled over the bathhouse, broken only by the soft lapping of the water. Mantis broke it, closing his eyes in contentment.
"Well then, Po?" he said with a light grin. "What do you make of our modest bathhouse, eh?"
"I'll say this much—" I exhaled, leaning the back of my head against the warm stone. "Now I understand where you get the energy for all those training sessions. For something like this I'd sell my soul without a second thought."
Monkey snorted and said with mock disapproval: "You'd sell your soul for a hot bath? What a poor excuse for a kung fu master you'll make, giving in to luxuries like that."
"First of all, I'm primarily a weightlifter," I replied with dignity, visibly flexing my chest. "And secondly, weightlifters understand the importance of quality rest for recovery. You acrobats with your jumping around wouldn't know anything about that."
"How could we humble mortals hope to compare to the great Dragon Warrior, who shattered the gates of the Jade Palace with a single blow!" said Mantis, not shifting from his position of perfect ease.
Crane turned his long neck toward me.
"Speaking of which — I still don't understand. What exactly were you doing up there that day? And how did you manage to… destroy them?"
"There's no mystery to it," I said, spreading my paws and doing my best to look nonchalant. "I never would have ended up here at all if not for a whole chain of ridiculous accidents."
Under their attentive eyes I began the account:
"It all started with a strange dream that made me fall out of bed and wake up the whole building with the noise—" I began, involuntarily wincing at the memory. "And then—" I gave a brief sketch of the sequence of absurd events, tactfully omitting certain details. By the time I reached the story of the Whispering Warriors' urn and the alcohol, everyone was fighting not to choke with laughter. And I finished the account at the point of meeting Shifu.
"So what were you dreaming about?" Monkey wheezed, barely managing to breathe after the laughing.
His question made me twitch. Why had I even mentioned the dream? I needed something plausible immediately. Fragments of recent memory tumbled through my head, and pulling them into something resembling a coherent story, I fired out the first thing that came to me:
"Nothing significant. I dreamed I had mastered kung fu." I looked away and aimed for the most indifferent expression I could assemble. "You know how it is — armies of villains fleeing, me swinging an enormous hammer, and all around… mountains of bodies. The whole thing was terrible. Nonsense."
*Damn it, why did I say that? I should have invented something about the gym. Now it's coming — 'prophetic dream,' 'sign from above'—* The thought passed through me with irritation.
The laughter cut off as abruptly as though someone had severed it with a blade. A thick, ringing silence fell, broken only by the steady sound of the water. I felt eyes settling on me and going still.
"It's possible…" Crane said cautiously, seeming to taste each word before releasing it. "That it was a prophetic dream. Your appearance here does carry a certain… surrealism to it. As though the hand of fate—"
"The hand of fate?" Mantis cut in without warning. His voice came out with unexpected firmness, shattering the mystical atmosphere that had begun building. "There's no question about it. He is bound to us and to kung fu. Completely. Permanently."
I stared at Mantis with wide eyes, not making any effort to hide my bewilderment.
"What makes you say that?" The words escaped before I could think them through. "Where does that certainty come from?"
Mantis rubbed his forelegs together with meaning, and mischievous sparks lit up his large eyes.
"Cast your mind back to our conversation in the forest! You and I already established that you, without knowing it, were one of the creators of the Furious Five!"
And seeing the confused faces of the others, he launched willingly into the retelling of the story — how a panda cook had accidentally infected Shifu and thereby altered the course of history.
While he spoke, I watched the emotions move across my companions' faces: first disbelief, then surprise, and by the end of the account, undisguised shock. They were all looking at me as though I had just confessed to creating the universe.
A strange, oppressive feeling settled over me — as though the walls around me were very slowly moving inward. The urge to jump up and beat my head against the stone masonry, just to dispel the sensation, was nearly irresistible. I hadn't fully internalized the whole chain of monstrous coincidences even myself, but hearing my own story from Mantis's mouth, I watched with something close to horror as the scattered fragments of my life assembled themselves into a finished, flawless puzzle. The picture was too complete, too deliberate — and for that reason, unbearable.
Talk of being "chosen" and "destiny" was beginning to make me feel genuinely queasy, the way you feel after eating something that wasn't quite right.
And then my gaze, wandering in search of escape, caught movement at the door. It was slightly ajar, and in the half-light beyond it two silhouettes were clearly visible — the graceful shape of a tiger and the smooth, sinuous outline of a snake.
"AHHH! PERVERTS!" I shrieked in the most theatrical falsetto I could manage, jabbing a shaking paw at the door. "THEY'RE PEEPING!"
Everyone turned sharply. Two silhouettes flickered in the doorway and lurched hastily in opposite directions — apparently Tigress and Viper had genuinely not expected the conversation to take that particular turn.
A second of stunned silence followed, broken by Monkey:
"Well, ladies — are you filing a hygiene inspection report for Master Shifu on the men's bathhouse?" he called cheerfully toward the door. "Or was Tigress hoping to scrub someone's back?"
From behind the door came Viper's barely suppressed laughter and Tigress's indignant snort, followed by a distant: "Oh, go drown yourselves!"
While Monkey was still laughing and the others were processing what had just happened, I grabbed the opportunity to change the subject with both hands.
"Well, since our distinguished audience has left disappointed…" I began, rising from the water with an air of elaborate innocence. "And since fate has seen fit to bring us all together…it seems like the perfect occasion to celebrate with a genuinely good dinner!"
"So I propose we head directly to the kitchen, where I will prepare signature noodles using my father's recipe. Who's in?"
No objections were raised.
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