Thanks to the hearty soup all the hurts slipped away, and the girls again followed their father like ducklings. In the mornings they woke early, got ready, then ran together with him to the gate. Zhang Min didn’t slow his training for them, didn’t wait, because he trained hard. Still, his heart tore watching them try to imitate their only parent. When he returned to the city from a run, Xue and Minzhu met him at the gate, then raced alongside his legs all the way home, pattering with little feet. The strain wasn’t easy on them, but both looked surprisingly happy.
They try so hard, Zhang Min thought, looking at strands of hair stuck to their foreheads. Maybe this idea isn’t bad – make them stronger. They’ll be able to take better care of themselves. Fewer worries for me.
He’d been thrown into a world where people, regardless of gender or age, revered martial arts. In Baohe he’d seen women warriors. Most guarded unmarried daughters of wealthy houses or well-off ladies who wished to avoid gossip. If the two sisters became practitioners of martial arts, they wouldn’t just have a job, they might win a good home.
They could start guarding rich children, Zhang Min thought.
The idea pleased him more and more. He remembered the old scroll he kept in a hiding place beneath the floor. On his last outing a warrior from the Tsanyan clan had mentioned that such manuals were made especially for training children, because it was hard for them to understand all the teachers’ explanations.
If even half of what the scroll promises is true, then the girls will be twice as strong. Then the little ones will be able to stand up for themselves or at least escape! The corners of his mouth curled in a smirk. And I’ll mind my own business without worries! Ha!
From the hiding place he retrieved the old scroll. He’d already tested its effects on himself, so he didn’t expect special problems, only worried a little that there might not be enough energy (qi) for both sisters. If only one mastered martial arts, he'd have to teach the other himself. He didn’t have a heart for raising children or any kind of mentorship, so he mentally crossed his fingers for luck.
“Xue! Minzhu!” Zhang Min called. “Come here. Lie on your backs.”
Now the girls feared him much less, especially after the sumptuous dinner with tiny bits of meat, and they obeyed without question. Without objections or hesitation, they lay on the floor before him, then he placed his palm on the older’s forehead so she wouldn’t move her head, then applied the scroll. The girl twitched involuntarily, opened her eyes, but calmed down quickly. The same with the younger one. Fortunately, the scroll worked on both and seemed not changed at all.
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Still good stuff. Quality. I hope there are still charges left, Zhang Min thought. Bad to give it away cheap to just anyone. Better to keep it for now. It’s never too late to sell. Such a thing should go to the right buyer.
From that day he included the children in his workouts, even in runs; for balancing speed he carried a sack with food on his back and another with sand. The girls followed the daily schedule strictly, including the afternoon nap. That part of training pleased them greatly, though slightly less than tasty food. In the evenings they and their father practised the teachings from the scroll in the backyard, and made great progress.
The knowledge gained from the scroll differed from simple memorization, as if a martial master’s experience had been fully passed to them, along with the understanding why each movement, stretch or meditation was done. The girls needed only train their bodies to perform all the techniques perfectly. Unfortunately, their deep understanding was limited to the basic level provided by the scroll, and beyond that, there was nothing; the knowledge ended abruptly.
Xue and Minzhu treated the lessons very seriously. Father was being good to them for the first time, and they feared ruining everything; knitting their little brows, they tried with all their strength. The difficult movements from the scroll the sisters repeated insistently again and again until they began to succeed. Their perseverance gave strength to Zhang Min himself, so training became much easier, and the girls simply delighted in the shared play with their parent, though it was very hard.
I was lying to myself. Running alone was boring. This is much more fun, he smiled, watching the children.
“What’s going on with your feet? Blisters! And such nasty ones! Why didn’t you say anything?” Zhang Min exclaimed, noticing their wounded feet.
Like most poor folk, the children wore woven sandals on bare feet. In everyday life they didn’t hurt their feet much, but for running they were totally useless. Over time the sandals wore out, and the girls had no chance to buy new ones, so they learned to repair them themselves, though not as skillfully as adults would.
“All good,” Xue said, frightened. “It doesn’t hurt us…”
“There’s nothing good about this! Let me see.” Tsk. Skin torn to the flesh. Cursed.
“All good…”
Despite his meager coin reserve, that very evening Zhang Min bought new woven sandals for Xue and Minzhu. And at the cloth shop he bought four strips of fabric. For the following days the strict father forbade them leaving the house until their feet healed. Later he taught the girls to wrap their feet tightly with cloth to avoid blisters.
