Chen Fa-ke was the youngest son of his father, Chen Yan-Xi, and was born late to older parents who had already lost family members.

(Fa-ke is pronounced Fa Kuh)

As a result he was a bit spoiled and pampered. As a boy his wish was to be a bureaucrat, not a martial artist. He did not pursue training, was weak and could not even do his daily chores in the fields around their village.

One day, when he was 14 he had a realization that change everything.

As a part of my interest in this famous and unbeaten, martial artist, I toured through China, meeting discples, and students of disciples, of Chen Fa-ke. My aim was to discover the training routine that made his so good.

What follows is historical fiction, based on facts I discovered during my interviews. If you enjoy it please leave a comment and urge me on to write more.

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China 1901

The heat of the late summer day causes a shimmer to ripple across the green fields stretched out below us. A lazy wind blows an occasional heated puff, not enough to cool. There may be a hint of rain on the breeze but on this hot and humid day in Northern China there isn’t a cloud in the sky.

On the ground it is hot, dry and oddly humid at the same time. The green fields we see stretching out for miles before us require hard manual labour to keep irrigated and alive. They are a priority for the nearby village as the life, or death, of everyone in the village depends on the fruit, vegetables and grain they produce. This summer the oppressive heat is worse than usual. Everyone in the village of Chenjiagou feels the pressure of the continuous heat and humidity, no break in sight.

We are in Wen County, at the northern end of Henan province very close to the border of Shandong, the martial province. As we look down on the countryside among the fields of cotton, corn, peanuts, watermelon and wheat we notice a curious feature. The landscape is striated with ditches large enough to take the place of roads. Some of these are as wide as five men and up to ten feet high. Looking into the ditches we see hot and tired peasants walking home from the fields for their evening meal. In one of the ditches two young men square off with an exchange of hard words. Zooming into closer focus one closes in to the other and grasps him, as if to hold him tightly.

With a fast and almost silent whoosh Chen Fa-ke strikes the ground with a sound like a bag of melons bursting. He bounces once and lies still, tastes blood and dirt in his mouth. His vision and hearing are gone and momentarily he is blind and deaf. He feels his heart beat, feels a pulse of blood and heat in his ears, hears the rush of blood in his head, feels the tingling of pain starting to spread through his hips and legs.

A pinprick of light appears, enlarges gradually until he sees his cousin, Chen Sen, standing over him, with his mouth working. He appears to be shouting but without sound. Looking sideways Chen Fa-ke sees pebbles as large as his nose, an ant approaching, antennae twitching, appears as large as his distended hand. He feels remote and the sound of his tormentor, his cousin, is muffled and indistinct. Other faces appear at the edge of his vision. They surround him and peer down at him with a mixture of delight, fear and pity in their eyes. Chen Fa-ke feels as if he is watching this happen to someone else but soon, as the pain spreads and awareness begins to return, it becomes apparent that its happening to him and it is not quite over.

As he lies in the ditch watching his own humiliation a vision of his father appears. The last time Chen Fa-ke saw his father, Chen Yan-xi, was the night he left on a six year contract to teach martial arts in the house of a rich government official. That night he demonstrated his skills for the village, the earth trembling under his stomps as he moved through the forms. At the end several young men attacked him and he bounced them away without injury. In Chen Fa-ke’s mind he hears his father’s words: “Use the art to protect others. According to the Confucian way those with power must not abuse it. Stay away from violence. Cultivate the art and yourself to the highest level.”

As his fathers voice and the vision fade Chen Fa-ke realizes that along with a blow to the head his breath has also been knocked out of him by his cousins throw. His stomach is cramping but he is not sure why. Chen Fa-ke tells himself he is not angered or bothered by being thrown down and humiliated but his stomach tells him otherwise. “How”, he thinks “can one person do this to another? And so casually. To what end? How can this be called cultivation or protecting others?”

As he regains his breath, his hearing and vision return to normal and his cousins words become clearer “You see, even though his father is the great Chen Yan-xi, the protector of our village, this one is weak and unable to protect even himself. He’s really not worth bothering with if he didn’t annoy me so much.”

“Why are you so weak and lazy Chen Fa-ke? Why don’t you carry your weight? Every day I work twice as hard as you because you can’t do any hard jobs. Its not fair. You say its your stomach ache and your weakness that prevent you from working but I know the truth. You could be as strong as any of us if you would do your share and at night train martial arts. You’re weak and pampered and I’m sick of doing your work for you. Every day you don’t work I’m going to beat you until you understand that you have to do your share. Tomorrow and for the next week now I must do extra work with pruning the paulownia trees because we’ve taken so long with the peanuts. All this extra work because you’re useless and lazy and weak. Damn you Chen Fake!”

The village boys watching Chen Fa-kes humiliation listen to Chen Sen’s angry words. Everyone in the village knows the situation and knows that Chen Sen does Chen Fa-ke’s work for him. Not everyone agrees that he should be beaten for his weakness.

Chen Sen pauses for a moment and looks with pity at Chen Fa-ke.

“It must be most embarassing for your family to have one as weak and useless as you as number one son. Your father, Chen Yan-xi, is the village protector and your family has held the position of standard bearer for many generations. It was the strongest family in the village until you came along.”

Chen Fa-ke’s ears burn with shame at the angry words of his cousin. He feels as though acid is eating through the lining of his stomach and will eat his organs too. His cousin releases him and with a sigh walks away to join the other boys and men of Chen village leaving the fields. Looking back he shouts a reminder.

“Tomorrow you must work Chen Fa-ke, or I will beat you again.”

Chen Fa-ke wants to strike back at his cousin. He wants to shout at him and defend himself but he is too weak and besides, he knows his cousin is right.

“But I can’t help it”, he thinks. “It isn’t my fault that I have health problems and can’t work as hard as others. Chen Sen speaks of fairness but what’s not fair is all this pressure on me. How can I be expected to do a normal days work when I’m weak from not being able to eat properly and my stomach hurts all the time. Its all I can do sometimes just to get to the fields. They should just give up on me and get someone else to take my place altogether.”

Chen Fa-ke doesn’t want to do field work. He doesn’t want to be a peasant farmer and most of all he doesn’t want to be a martial artist. Martial artists like his father work hard every day, meet challenges with dangerous men and are often away from home teaching or working as body guards. The other village boys think this is a romantic life but for Chen Fa-ke the choices he faces are either boring and unfulfilling or dangerous and very difficult. He would rather become educated and work as a bureaucrat. That way he could make money and take care of his father and mother. His father could then quit his dangerous job and his mother wouldn’t have to work so hard. But in this little village how can one even start on this path? How can I become educated? Our little si shu (school) has only one teacher and few books to learn from. How can I ever learn enough to have even a small chance of passing the required exams.

Chen Fa-ke feels the pressure of his position but doesn’t yet realize that he is at a crossroads. He feels that he can’t make a step that won’t be wrong but he knows he can’t continue the way he is going. For one thing he can’t take his cousins beatings much longer.

Having lost their first two sons to an epidemic his mother and father spoil Chen Fa-ke and protect him perhaps a little too much. They support his decision to become educated and his mother, realizing that he is weak and sickly, has done all she can to have him excused from the more physical work that life in a peasant village demands. His father, though he comes from a lineage that has given the village the strongest standard bearers of their unique martial art, also supports him. Their family has had three sons in all. The eldest who should have been the next standard bearer and the son next to him in age both died early leaving Chen Fa-ke as the focus of the families hopes for the continuation of their traditions. Father and mother both agree that they would rather have a live son than a live tradition. They will allow Chen Fake to do as he wishes in an attempt to keep him healthy, happy and alive.

Rolling to his side Chen Fa-ke steadies himself and then rocks to a kneeling position. He gets to his feet and looks after the last few men walking away from him. The sun is almost down, only a few pink scattered clouds remain. He thinks that now there may be a smell of rain on the breeze that passes by.

Starting towards the village he looks across the fields and sees his neighbours melon patch. Across from it is the land his cousin and he have been working. Peanuts protected by widely planted and fast growing paulownia trees. Fake was to have pruned all the trees but had to stop from exhaustion. His cousin is being forced to do both jobs, the third time this has happened since he came to live with them.

A bird in the distance calls out. Swallows above the fields dart and swoop chasing butterflies and other smaller bugs. The wheat field to his left flattens with the wind. It seems that a giant invisible hand pushes the grass and it comes rushing towards him. He trudges through the ditch that serves as road and irrigation canal. Nothing to do but walk to the village for supper. His life has been like this for fourteen years. Shortly it will change in a way no one could have predicted.

“I had almost forgotten, teacher Ping will be at the si shu (school) tonight. If we are lucky she will tell us more of the Taoist stories she teases us with. She says that China and Chinese people are Taoism but I don’t know what she means by that. It is funny to hear her compare the Taoist stories and ideas like the ones about balance and excess with the orderly thoughts of Confucius. She is teaching us to read also so eventually some of us will be able to have a book and be able to read it. I must hurry and be ready when the class starts.”

With something to look forward to Chen Fa-ke picks up his pace and hurries towards the village. He enters from the east side and walks down the main street toward a bridge that divides the market half of the village from the walled living area. He knows everyone, they know him. Some call out a greeting, others turn their eyes down so as not to see his blood streaked face and muddied clothes. Vendors sell fresh butchered meats hanging from hooks. The stalls burst with ripe melons, oranges and sweet fruit. Chen Fa-ke smells their smells but has no interest. Where another man would be salivating after a hard day in the fields he only thinks of the trouble his stomach will give him if he eats. As he crosses the bridge he feels a coolness rise up from the stream below. There is a refreshing wet smell of fish, mud, reeds and damp rot. Basking in the cooling draft Chen Fa-ke thinks of the many hours he has spent sitting on the banks of that stream. Hidden by willow branches it is one place he can get away from the pressures of his life and the taunts of the other boys. No time for that now though, he must hurry to be ready for school.

He turns toward the part of the village where the courtyards are. His own courtyard built of stone and bricks of mud and straw is large and houses three different families. He realizes his cousin will be home by now and falters slightly. Chen Fa-ke knows that if he says anything about what happened he’ll only receive a stronger beating next time so nothing will be discussed, nothing will be said. He walks faster hoping to be able to refresh his dusty clothes and wash his face before going to class.

Ahead he spots his mother walking with their courtyard neighbour. He has forgotten about his bloodied face in his rush to prepare for schooling later. His mother smiles and gathers him into a warm embrace. She steps back and peers at him. A look of concern moves across her features. She steps in to touch his arm, looks and touches the scratches on his face and arms, the dirt embedded in them. “My son. Was there fighting again?”

Chen Fa-ke only nods and says nothing. This is an ongoing theme with him and his mother. She protects him, too much, and in doing so makes the other village boys angry with him. He hates to appear this way before his mother. Such a contrast to his powerful father who no one in the village can beat. He hates to be reminded of his weakness.

“Mother I am hurrying to class. Tonight teacher is here and I want to be ready on time.”

“Fa-ke there will be no class tonight. Your uncle has traded an old barrow for a whole roasted goat. Tonight we all eat together and celebrate having enough food that the entire family can eat until full. Look here, I have tofu and melons and our neighbour has onions and ginger she will share with us. Forget about class tonight and celebrate with us. With your father away for so long it is good to have men in the house again. No soy milk and dumplings for us tonight so get cleaned up and don’t worry about learning for one night.”

Chen Fa-ke’s stomach lurches at her words. His fathers brothers are well meaning and do their best to help Chen Fa-ke and his mother but they do not understand Chen Fa-ke and what he wants to do. They think he should be like them, a peasant learning gong-fu with barely enough to eat. Every time they visit he sees the reproachment in their eyes. More pressure to bear. But there is no way out. He cannot politely refuse a visit from family.

He turns to her and forces a smile. “Visiting with fathers brothers is always something to look forward to. Lets enjoy our walk home together and I will tell you what happened in the fields today.” Chatting casually they walk the few blocks to the entrance to their courtyard and see waiting for them his fathers two brothers, Chen Ke Peng and Chen Zhao-sen and their wives. With them are other elders, all are Taiji masters and all are trained in the lineage of Chen Fake’s father, grandfather and great-grandfather. They welcome each other and show each other their gifts for the upcoming dinner. It will be a feast with soup, dumplings, Chinese broccoli in addition to the roasted goat the uncles brought and the food their mother has. They all enter and tea is poured. The women take the food and moving to the cooking area, begin to heat the large wok. Chen Fake offers to help but is told to sit with the men.

Even occupied with cooking and chatting with her noisy and boisterous neighbour Chen Fa-ke’s mother can’t keep her mind from thinking of him. Like most mothers she is protective of her only remaining child. Having lost their first two sons to an epidemic she had thought they would be childless until late in their lives they unexpectedly had Chen Fa-ke. She understands the pressures this role places on him and sees how he reacts to it. His stomach problems she is sure are a result of the tension he feels in not living up to the villages expectations. She is sure that if he practised more he could cure his lack of strength and even his stomach problems but she will not push him.

Her husband, Chen Yan-xi, has been lucky in getting his current position. Not only does he live in the household of a rich man with all the comforts that implies but he is also being paid well. When he returns from his six year stint he will have a comfortable amount of money. Most martial artists are not so lucky, or so skilled. So Chen Fa-ke’s mother does not push. She knows what is at stake, the risks and the possible rewards.

In the other room the men are gathered about the one table holding the tea pot. They drink tea and talk about what all farmers talk about, the weather, the crops this year, who bought what new tool. When that talk is exhausted they turn to talk of Chen Yan-xi and his exploits. Without Chen Yan-xi providing the village with extra income they would all suffer more. The villagers are thankful to him. The talk turns to their lineage and Chen Chang-Xing is mentioned. He is Chen Fa-ke’s great-grandfather and the man who was the first to teach a Chinese outsider the village art, a man named Yang Lu-Chan who eventually left the village and began teaching the art publicly in Beijing.

The discussion becomes heated and Chen Fake feels their eyes on him. The more heated they become the more his stomach aches, clenching so hard it feels like acid is boiling inside him. With their knowing glances turned his way Chen Fake can take the weight of it no longer. Already shamed once today this is too much to bear. He jumps to his feet, gives a polite bow and says “Uncles and elders, please excuse me. I feel poorly.”

Chen Fa-ke runs from his house towards the main street and the bridge. The acid in his stomach threatens to erupt as he runs. Why couldn’t his uncles just leave him alone? It was bad enough that the village boys teased him, calling him “The Weak One” and knocking him down. Now even his uncles won’t leave him alone. They seem to think that martial art is better than being educated. In his present state it seems to Chen Fake that martial art is represented not by his ethical father but by his older cousin and his gang who lord it over the all the younger boys, but especially over him. All they are interested in is being strong enough to bully others. Chen Fake wants no part of that and can’t see how anyone would be attracted to something that so betrays the values they have all been raised to respect. Be courteous to others, help when necessary, don’t embarrass anyone unnecessarily, stay away from violence.

His father, the martial head of the village, and the instructors at his school constantly say these things to all the students, little good that it does. Maybe you had to be so good that no one would risk taking you on before these values could be applied. Feeling sorry for himself reason leaves Chen Fake. Everyone it seems is against him. Everyone except his father and mother criticize him for wanting to leave the village and be something other than a farmer or martial artist.

So now, rushing away from more criticism of his attempts to be something different from the other villagers he heads towards the one place he feels comfortable. Reaching the banks of the stream under the bridge he scrambles down a well known path to his ‘secret’ spot beneath a spreading willow tree. Its leaves and branches are long enough to hide him from anyone looking. His spot is cool so close to the stream and is shaded from the still hot sun. The coolness of the stream and the dirt banks add to the comfort he feels there. Chen Fake comes here often, sitting sometimes for hours by himself until his stomach gradually relaxes. Sitting quietly he hears birds call while they flit in the branches of his willow. Fish splash as they swim by. Bees drone, the wind whispers. Smells of dirt and the green coolness of the grass and the trees gradually comfort him until he dozes with eyes open. Listening, feeling the earth tremble as an oxcart lumbers across the bridge, voices in the distance, all became part of a drone removed from consciousness yet still part of him. He feels at peace and gradually sleeps.

He wakes to a patter of rain on leaves. The rain he smelled earlier has arrived, darkening the sky and bringing life to their fields. It turns from a light rain to a downpour and starts to soak him through, washing his still muddied face and arms. He retreats under the bridge, joins the company of swallows, frogs and snails sheltering with him.

Listening to the rain drum on the wooden bridge overhead his stomach begins to growl. He has eaten next to nothing that day, and with his stomach feeling better than usual he begins to think of the meal being consumed in his absence. Is it worth it to go back and eat at the expense of having to deal with the disappointment of his uncles he wonders? When the rain lets up he decides he’ll return to the courtyard but sit outside on the veranda and listen before going in. That way he’ll be able to decide if it is safe to go in.

When a lull in the rain occurs he runs back home and stealthily enters the courtyard. He finds a spot under the surrounding eaves by the window to their largest room.

In the Chinese way of things people are often not direct with each other but at times will speak plainly when that person is not around. His uncles often talk about Chen Fa-ke among themselves but have been forbidden by his father and mother to speak directly to him. Sitting outside the window Chen Fake hears his uncles talk about him in a way he has never heard before.

‘In Chen Yan-xi’s family lineage, each generation has produced a highly skilled practitioner. It’s a pity to see this tradition end in Chen Fa-kes’s generation. He’s already 14, but he’s still so weak and fragile he cannot put in the necessary effort to train hard. It appears obvious that it will be lost forever. The family and the village will surely suffer from his casual ways.’

Like a sheet of lightning across the darkened sky these words strike into Chen Fa-kes heart and mind illuminating and enlightening him about the real cause of their concerns.

“All this time I’ve been wrong”, he thinks. “I thought this was about me and about what I want to do but it isn’t. This is about my family and the heritage of our village. Not about me at all. I thought I was the one upholding the words of my father but I’ve been no better than the other boys. No matter what the cost I won’t allow traditional skills that have been passed from generation to generation for so long to be lost at my hands. I must uphold the reputation and traditions of my village and my ancestors. At the very least I can catch up with my cousin, ” and an unbidden thought enters his mind, “and then I will have my revenge.”

With this thought Chen Fa-ke has the same feeling he had on the banks of the river. His tension releases, his stomach relaxes. For the first time in his life he sees his path clearly and knows that no obstacle can prevent him from achieving what he is fated to do.

“But how?”, he thinks. “How can I become better even than my cousin? He eats with me, sleeps with me, works in the fields with me. If I start to train hard he will train just as hard. What is the way to beat him?”

End of chapter one