It came as no surprise, then, when Grandmaster quietly called them over to the back corner of the practice hall and told them that Fu would be the first to climb into the terra-cotta barrel that held drinking water more often than it held boys.
Grandmaster removed the barrel's heavy lid and, groaning softly, dumped the contents onto the floor. Fu felt the water splash onto his pants and knee-length robe, then spill over his bare feet. He hated to wear wet clothes, so he took several steps back—but Grandmaster shook his head.
Grandmaster quickly stood the barrel back up and nodded in Fu's direction. Fu growled softly and stepped forward. He laid his hands on the rim of the barrel and found it to be quite stable, so he swung himself up and into it feetfirst like he was jumping into a well. And just like jumping into a well, he found water at the bottom.
“What the … ?” Fu complained. “There's still a bunch of water in here! What do you expect me to do?”
Grandmaster slapped Fu's bald head. “I expect you to stop talking and lie down! Hurry! Curl into a tight ball and lie on your side.”
Fu grudgingly did as he was told but found that much of his head would be under water if he followed Grandmaster's directions exactly. Instead, Fu twisted his head to one side and rested his cheek on the inside wall of the barrel.
“I can't believe this,” Fu mumbled. “Whoever gets on top of me better—”
“Hush!” Grandmaster said. He looked anxiously at Fu's four brothers standing around the barrel in the gloom. Three of them avoided Grandmaster's gaze. Malao, however, flashed a devilish grin and leaped high into the air. Grandmaster frowned but did nothing to stop the eleven-year-old “monkey.”
Malao's bare, dark-skinned feet landed directly on Fu's head, and he began to giggle as he flopped down on top of Fu. Malao was the smallest of the group and didn't weigh very much, but Fu complained anyway. Grandmaster sighed and looked at Seh.
Without a word, Seh, the serious twelve-year-old “snake,” stretched his long, sinewy arms straight up into the air and slid his lanky body over the barrel's rim. Malao stopped giggling after Seh entered the barrel. Fu, however, complained even more when he felt the added weight of his tallest brother pressing down on him.
Hok, the quiet twelve-year-old “crane,” followed Seh without being prompted. His body was of average size, but he was incredibly light. He hopped directly onto the rim of the barrel. Perfectly balanced on the balls of both feet, he leaned forward and stretched his delicate neck to peer inside. After studying the pile a few moments, he gently lowered his pale body into the barrel.
Long, the wise thirteen-year-old “dragon,” went last. He wasn't as strong as Fu, as nimble as Malao, as smooth as Seh, or as gentle as Hok, but he was very, very close in each regard. He placed his large hands on the rim of the barrel like Fu and swung his powerful legs high into the air. But instead of rushing in heavy-footed like Malao, Long quickly checked the positions of the others like Hok had done. While still in midair, Long's muscular, rock-solid body became fluid like a snake, and he wriggled himself down gently into what little space was left at the top of the pile.
Grandmaster finished the job by replacing the barrel's heavy lid. Only then did Fu stop complaining.
But Fu was ready to start complaining all over again. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse inside the barrel, they did. His brothers were beginning to smell. They were all wearing their cold-weather robes and pants, which made them sweat profusely inside the cramped space. Even their bald heads and bare feet were sweating.
On top of Fu, Malao shifted one of his slimy feet. A dirty toenail poked Fu in the eye. Fu growled and Malao's foot returned to its original position.
Fu wondered what he had done in a former life to deserve this. He was wet and uncomfortable at the bottom of the barrel, and half his body had fallen asleep under the weight of the others. Worst of all, he was being forced to listen to a battle being waged in his own backyard while he lay there, doing nothing.
Fu grumbled to himself. If he hadn't been half-asleep, he would never have agreed to this. Especially with Ying involved.
If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem, Fu thought. Ying, of all people, had told him that.
I've got to get out of this stupid barrel! Fu decided.
Fu began to shake as he struggled to restrain himself. Expressing his thoughts like a civilized person hadn't gotten him anywhere, so he decided to take a different approach. He would muscle his way out. All he needed was a little leverage. Maybe if he were to shift his left shoulder back a little … errr… And then push his right arm forward a little … arrr … And then turn his head a little to the … SLAM!