“Not exactly,” Malao replied. “I said I was going to teach you some monkey-style kung fu. Kung fu isn't always about fighting. In fact, most monkey-style followers don't even like to fight. They usually prefer to run away. Many times the winner of a fight still gets hurt, and I know I'd rather run away healthy than win a fight and end up with a broken arm or leg. The number one rule is to walk away from a fight, or run away if you have to. Understand?”
“I guess so,” the small boy said. “But what are you supposed to do if you can't run away? What if you have no choice?”
“If you're small like me, you have to be prepared to play dirty,” Malao said with a devilish grin. “If you ever find yourself in a corner and you're feeling afraid, show it. It will help make your opponent feel overconfident. And if you have no choice but to fight back, you should strike and retreat. No one can hurt you if you're not there. After a swift kick-and-punch combination, run away and don't look back. It is said that monkeys fight with four hands. That means use your feet and your fists simultaneously. Does that make sense?”
The small boy scratched his head. “Yes, but what kind of punch should we use? And what kind of kick?”
“You could use whatever Fu showed you, or you could make up your own. A lot of monkey-style moves are made up as you go along, especially if you're attacking the eyes or throat. Just do whatever comes to mind first, then get out of there as fast as you can.”
“Could you show us some moves?” the small boy asked. “Please?”
Malao smiled and looked at Fu. Fu was still talking to Ma.
“Hey, Fu,” Malao interrupted. “How long do you think we'll be here?”
“I don't know,” Fu replied. “I don't want to stay too long. It's only a matter of time before Ying—”
Fu suddenly stopped talking. He was staring at the bun vendor's shop across the square. In front of the shop was a large man with long, tangled hair and a scraggly beard. One of his lower legs was bandaged, and he leaned on a crutch.
“I'll be right back,” Fu said hurriedly. “You stay here and conduct some more monkey business, Malao.” Fu nodded to Ma and raced off toward the man.
Malao shrugged and looked at the group. “Anybody want to learn how to make a Hammer Fist?”
Malao was having a hard time concentrating. Though his students were eager to learn and he was excited to be sharing his knowledge with them, he just couldn't seem to keep his eyes off Fu and the large, scraggly man in front of the bun vendor's shop. It was uncanny how Fu's body style mirrored the big man's, and how often Fu and the man used the same gestures as they spoke. Curiosity soon got the best of Malao.
“Everybody keep practicing your Hammer Fists,” Malao said to the village children. “I'll be right back.” He scurried over to join Fu.
The large man stopped talking in mid-sentence as Malao approached. He grinned and said, “Hello, little one. You must be Malao.”
“Aahhh, yeah,” Malao said. “And you are—”
“A friend,” Fu answered. “He's just a friend.”
The big man smiled and put his hand on Fu's shoulder. “I have been called many things in my time,” the man said to Malao. “But most recently people have been calling me the Drunkard.”
“Oh,” Malao said. “I'm sorry.”
The Drunkard laughed. “That's okay. I don't mind.” He looked at Fu. “I'm not really a drunkard, you know. I've been passing myself off as one the past several years because I've found that people tend to leave me alone this way. Since that's what I want, I keep the act going.”
“But why would you want to be left alone?” Malao asked.
“That, my little friend, is a very long story,” the Drunkard said. He looked at Fu again. “I have so many stories to share.”
Fu's eyebrows raised. “Do any of them have anything to do with being a warrior monk?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” the Drunkard replied.
“I knew it!” Fu said. “I knew you were a warrior monk when I saw you fight. How come you aren't living in a temple?”
“I left.”
“Why?” Malao asked.
“That is a very, very long story,” the Drunkard replied.
“That's okay,” Malao said. “I love stories! Especially stories about warrior monks.”
“All right,” the Drunkard said. “I left the temple because I fell in love with a woman. As you probably know, that's not allowed. We wanted to marry and start a family, so I had to leave.”
“Really?” Malao asked. “Are you still married?”