“No!” cried Fu. “You can't! Those scrolls aren't even his! He tried to steal them from Cangzhen Temple! My temple! If you would just listen to me, you'll see that—”
The Governor spun back toward Fu. “That is enough, young man! I see only as far as the region I govern, and you bring trouble to my region. Therefore, you must go. And now, so must I.”
The Governor turned to his son. “Come,” he said. “It's time to go home, Ho.”
And with that, the Governor turned and walked away, his son at his side.
“Please, wait!” Fu cried out. “I thought you were a good man! I have more to say!”
But no one listened.
At first, Fu thought he was seeing things. Darkness had begun to settle in, and he was under a lot of stress. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. But— there it was again! Across the square a huge basket of rice seemed to move. And then it stood!
In front of the bun vendor's shop, a large, heavyset man lifted the battered remnants of an old rice basket off his head and shoulders. Fu realized he must have sat down and covered himself with it to keep dew from forming on him as night set in. Fu hadn't noticed it there before.
The big man swayed slightly. Long tangles of matted black hair hung partway down his back and forward over his face, intertwined with his long, scraggly beard. His pants and robe were filthy. The man raised his beefy arms and stretched, yawning. Then he began to stumble forward, as though drunk. He stopped several paces from Fu's cage and stood there, weaving back and forth. He stared at Fu between strands of hair. Fu thought he saw something familiar in the man's eyes, but he wasn't sure what.
Fu shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He must be seeing things.
The Drunkard spoke with a deep, gravelly voice.
“What is your name?”
“Fu.”
The Drunkard paused. One eyebrow raised up. “Who would give you the name Tiger?”
“My temple's Grandmaster.”
“Your name is Cantonese,” the Drunkard said, stumbling closer. “But Canton is very far from here. What temple are you from?”
Fu folded his arms. “What do you care?”
“What do you care that I care?”
Fu cocked his head to one side. “Why do you answer my question with a question?”
“Why are you so reluctant to answer?”
Fu leaned back, frustrated. “You talk like a monk, you filthy bum.”
“Perhaps that is because I've spent some time with monks,” the Drunkard said, smiling.
“Sure you have.”
“Surely, I have,” the Drunkard said.
Fu sneered. “Next you're going to tell me that the monks you spent time with were from the great Shaolin Temple, right?” Fu leaned forward.
The Drunkard leaned forward, too. “Perhaps,” he said. The Drunkard lost his balance and stumbled into the cage. It shook violently.
Fu leaned back. “You're pathetic. You only say that because Shaolin is so famous, even a lowly, homeless Drunkard would have heard of it. What would you know about Shaolin?”
The Drunkard brushed his tangled hair to the side. “I know that the monks there never attack innocent villagers.”
Fu banged his fists against the front of the cage. “That's not fair! I said I was sorry!”
The hair fell back over the Drunkard's eyes. He continued to stare but said nothing more.
“What more can I do?” Fu asked. “I made a mistake, but I am not entirely at fault. Those hunters should share some of the blame.”
“Really?” the Drunkard asked.
“Really!” Fu said. “Listen to what I have to say, Drunkard, since no one else in this stupid village will. I am a Cangzhen monk. My temple was secret, founded by Shaolin monks who fought for Truth and defended Justice. We were recently attacked and our temple was destroyed by a traitor, and I've been sent to find others to help me stop the traitor before he ruins even more lives. That traitor is none other than Major Ying. In my search for help, I happened across some men hunting tigers for sport, one of whom was the Governor. As a Cangzhen monk, I cannot stand around while tigers are destroyed for no reason.”
“No reason?” the Drunkard said. “Did the hunters tell you that they were only hunting for sport?”
“They didn't say that they weren't,” Fu replied.
“Perhaps you should have asked them what they were doing before you attacked.”
“I saw what they were doing!” Fu said.
“Not everything is the way it looks, young man,” the Drunkard said in a fatherly tone. “Sometimes you need to listen, too. You've said it yourself.”