Subduing the Tiger
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As soon as Zhao Jia stepped through the door, the stench of blood assaulted his nose and mouth.
Men and tigers lay scattered across the floor, felled in battle; the only one left standing was a simian monster with gilded beast-like eyes.
The creature cast a glance at Zhao Jia and the company behind him, then leaped onto the eaves, bathed in moonlight, looking down with disdain. There was no fear in its gaze—only cold indifference mingled with an irrepressible fury.
With a powerful leap, the monster vanished into the dense mist.
“Captain Zhao, should we give chase?” one of the squad leaders ventured cautiously.
Zhao Jia shook his head. “We won’t catch it. Even if we did, it would only add to our casualties.”
“Quick, fetch the physician!”
“Yes, sir.”
Zhao Jia hurried to assess the injuries of the three men and one tiger.
...
Dr. Chu arrived once more at the Liu residence, on Zhao Jia’s orders.
This time, however, he was not here to treat a cat, but a tiger.
When treating the cat, at least he was not afraid—he simply found the nobleman’s black cat unusual.
But who dared treat a tiger?
He swallowed hard, hesitant to approach and examine the beast’s wounds.
A bite from a cat might draw a little blood; a bite from a tiger, at best, leaves two gaping holes, at worst, costs you your life.
Only after Zhao Jia’s repeated assurances and his own presence did Dr. Chu inch closer, still keeping Zhao Jia between himself and the tiger.
His first impression: immense.
This white-browed tiger was nearly thirteen feet long, lying on the ground larger even than an ordinary ox. The hot breath from its mouth and nose steamed in the air, and blood mixed with saliva pooled beneath it.
Its torn flesh bore wounds as if it had battled another giant beast.
He had treated many tiger wounds before, but never an actual tiger.
Dr. Chu nervously examined the injuries, asking Zhao Jia to pry open the tiger’s eyes to check its awareness. “I suspect there are some cracked ribs and a concussion, but the skull is intact—none of these wounds threaten the bones or tendons…”
“To heal it properly, it must be taken back to the clinic.” As soon as he said this, Dr. Chu regretted it.
“Agreed,” Zhao Jia nodded.
He began organizing a team to weave a stretcher for the tiger.
“Captain, you mustn’t leave! That monster might return,” Liu Hong called out, ignoring his trembling legs and hurrying to plead with Zhao Jia.
Zhao Jia frowned. “Are you sure you didn’t do anything to summon the monster?”
“No, I did not.”
“Then why did it come?”
Years of experience told Zhao Jia he was being lied to—Liu Hong definitely wasn’t telling the truth. He must know something, or he wouldn’t say things like ‘the monster might return.’
“I truly don’t know,” Liu Hong stammered.
Zhao Jia had no time to deal with him. His three brothers were seriously injured, and the cat brother had nearly been beaten to death. His urgency was overwhelming—he had to settle their injuries first.
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“Did the monster leave you a clay figurine about a foot tall?” Zhao Jia asked, recalling the old monk’s instructions as he strode away.
“Ah—no…no…” Liu Hong stuttered.
Zhao Jia watched Liu Hong’s hesitation, paid it no mind, and continued toward the stretcher. Suddenly, he spun and fixed Liu Hong with a steely glare, his voice thunderous: “Did you or didn’t you?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Where is it?”
“It’s…”
“I see—you won’t cry until you see the coffin.”
“I smashed it and buried it in the backyard.”
Excellent.
Zhao Jia’s fury erupted. He seized Liu Hong’s collar, his eyes bloodshot. “You scoundrel! You deserve death!”
Liu Hong was lifted off the ground, his face turning from red to purple.
Now Zhao Jia understood.
It was Liu Hong who had smashed the clay figurine, which lured the monster here. Otherwise, why would a creature appear out of nowhere?
He flung Liu Hong aside, slamming him to the ground. Hand on his waist knife, Zhao Jia roared, “How dare you treat human lives as trifles? For your selfish desires, you nearly cost my brothers their lives!”
Liu Hong gasped and retched, clutching his throat and saying nothing. He had destroyed the evidence out of fear of government reprisal, and his anger at the statue only made him lose all reason, venting his fury on the fragile clay figure.
Who could have foreseen the monster’s arrival?
Had he known, he wouldn’t have gone near the back hall.
“Lock them all up! Bring them to the magistrate.”
Ultimately, reason won over anger. The monster could indeed return. To prevent further tragedy, he decided to take everyone to the county office and leave the problem to the magistrate.
...
The clinic.
The young apprentice Peanut opened the door and was stunned—torches blazed outside, lighting the street as if it were dusk.
“Bring it in!”
Four men carried a massive stretcher.
Upon it lay a tiger.
Peanut gaped, stepping aside and ushering them in.
How could his master return from a house call with a white-browed tiger instead of a human?
Zhuangzi, who was more seriously injured, was also carried in. Big Mouth and Little Guy, with lighter wounds, could still walk, so they were supported to the clinic.
Once back at the clinic, Dr. Chu shed his nervousness and resumed his role as the famed physician of Meilan County.
He directed the apprentices—some to boil water, others to prepare medicines, others to ready tools.
“What’s this?”
“Ma Fei powder,” Dr. Chu explained. “The tiger’s wounds must be stitched. Otherwise, it’ll keep bleeding. To prevent it from lashing out, we need Ma Fei powder to make it sleep.”
Zhao Jia didn’t argue that the tiger wouldn’t lash out. Even humans can’t endure stitches without sedation, let alone a tiger, so he allowed Dr. Chu to proceed.
“I entrust my brothers to your care.”
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Zhao Jia took out ten taels of silver. “Use only the best medicine.”
“Rest assured, Captain.”
...
In Jiujiang, tigers abound, and tiger tales are the most common.
Peanut, full of curiosity, squatted before the tiger.
The tiger was very clean—he had carefully wiped it with hot water, leaving not a drop of blood, treating it as a priceless treasure.
Its paw was bigger than his head; its forelimb thicker than his thigh; its head was enormous—if the tiger opened its mouth, he could easily fit his head inside.
Beneath the lustrous, striped fur, muscles bulged and rippled.
Even a pig bristle brush could not move those steel-like whiskers.
Peanut remembered the village elder’s stories: tiger whiskers are a treasure, said to cure toothaches, but only while still warm—once cooled, they’re useless. His master claimed there was an herb called tiger whisker, with heat-clearing and detoxifying properties, but Peanut preferred another tale from the elder.
The elder said everyone has a true nature, and to see it clearly, one must use a tiger’s whisker.
Hold the whisker in your hand and recite the incantation, and you can see a person’s true form.
Peanut thought: his master must be a crane, Captain Zhao surely a tiger, Zhuangzi the bailiff probably a wild boar… Peanut wanted to see what he himself was. So, he slowly reached out to the tiger’s whiskers and gave a gentle tug; the whiskers were stiff and sharp, tugging the skin and flesh along.
Suddenly, Peanut felt a chill down his spine and looked up.
A pair of golden brown eyes stared straight at him.
“Ah!” he cried.
His hand slipped, and he fell to the floor, bursting into tears.
The others rushed in at the sound.
“Ah, Third Master, you’re awake!” Little Guy stepped forward.
“Third Master?”
“Who?”
“Me.”
Lu Xun reached out a paw and stroked the whisker Peanut had tugged.
Little Guy eyed Lu Xun, the formidable tiger, and gave a thumbs-up. “Third Master, you’re truly magnificent. If not for you, we’d have all fallen to that beast.”
Lu Xun, still dazed, recalled his memories.
He remembered being felled by the Five-Tongue God, then seeing a crowd with blazing torches, and faintly hearing Zhao Jia giving orders, which allowed him to relax and slip into unconsciousness.
He tried to rise, but failed.
Grrrrrumble!
His stomach thundered.
Big Mouth waved, “Quick!”
“Bring in the cooked beef from Spring Tower!”
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