CAPTER TWO
CHINESE GONGFU!
The man soon became thirsty and looked around for a waiter. His eyes fell on Wen Hsiu.
He called out to him in a language that he had never heard before. Wen Hsiu could hear that the man was being polite, though and smiled. He shrugged and tilted his head with a puzzled smile.
"I’m sorry…" the man repeated in English. "Do you work here?"
"Yes…" Wen Hsiu responded quickly in the first bit of English he could muster.
"Canwepleasehavsummoredrinks?" the man asked.
The question was impossible for Wen Hsiu to grasp.
"Some drinks, please." the man replied slowly.
Wen Hsiu immediately understood as some of the few familiar English words in his vocabulary reached his ears and triggered an old memory from a classroom in Hong Kong. He smiled, waved and looked at the table. He did not know the brands of the cans that were on the table, but he quickly took in the colours and shapes on the cans and rushed to the fridge. The man at the table watched him with a puzzled expression as he headed off.
"Hmmm…" he remarked to his wife. "I wonder where he is from…"
When he returned to the table and placed matching cans on the table before removing the empty cans the customer’s "thank you" assured him that his assumption was correct.
The waiter responsible walked up to Wen Hsiu as he dumped the cans into the refuse bin in the Kitchen.
"Thanks." he said. "Did they order anything else?"
"Only another round of drinks…" Wen Hsiu relied.
"Thank you. I’ll write it up." the waiter said.
Two of the waiters rushed to the door to meet the second group of guests for the day. Six men entered the restaurant. The apparent leader was a muscular man with a very short stubble on his head and a menacing look on his face. His jeans and black sleeveless shirt gave him the look of a biker. The studs on his belt and armlets did not do well to make him appear like a peaceful, law -abiding citizen. His companions seemed to have shopped at the same place for clothes as he.
The stubble-headed man pushed the waiter aside and yelled at the customers: "Nobody eats here! Get out now! Restaurant is closed!"
This immediately warranted some worried stares from the table. The family seemed reluctant to leave, though.
Ronnie was actually getting bored with the whole thing. He loved a good fight- even if there was no good reason for it. Having been in prison for counts of assault and attempted murder only made him more accustomed to the worst that life could throw at him. His boss told him to make sure no one supports the Chinese Restaurant- he was going to make sure it is done in the most violent and messy way possible.
A young white man dressed in a Chinese long sleeved shirt and trousers stood up from one of the tables at the back. "Jeez", Ronnie noticed. "He’s even wearing those funny Chinese slippers!"
"No! You make mistake!" the young man said in a most ridiculous Chinese accent and a smile that looked even more ridiculous. "Restaurant is open."
"You trying to be funny?" the man roared.
The waiters all gathered in together now.
"Please! Don’t wreck our shop!" Mr Lu called.
The Taekwondo instructor got the message loud and clear.
"We go outside?" he asked the stubble-head.
The waiters and the thugs soon squared off on the pavement outside the restaurant. The stubble-head stepped forward and sank into a boxing crouch. His hands, were not clenched into fists, though, but rather relaxed and semi- open. As one of the prize-fighters of his mixed martial arts club he was more than ready to teach these gooks about fighting...
Mr Lu looked out the window. He was really worried. The waiters were no masters of the martial art that they have just taken up and he still felt that knowledge of a martial art was simply not enough right now.
"That man is not very strong…" Ling Hua remarked as she sipped her tea without bothering to turn her head. "I hope for their sake they stop this foolishness before they get hurt…"
The customers now joined Mr. Lu by the window. It did not matter who people were or where they came from- a fight was always guaranteed to attract attention.
The Taekwondo instructor stepped in. He threw a blurry combination of kicks at the stubble-head.
Ronnie closed his body to attack by bringing his forearms together in front of his chest and abdomen. He took the Chinese man’s side kicks on his forearms and ducked underneath a high roundhouse kick. While the kick missed his head he lunged into the Chinese. He wasted no time tackling the Chinese guy into the ground and sitting on top of his chest. He raised his fist…
Within a quarter of a second he was going to beat this Chink into a pulp…
Ronnie’s plans got rudely interrupted by his arm suddenly going numb and getting twisted and straightended. His hand was caught in a paralysing grip and was awkwardly bent up, preventing him from making a fist. The pressure on his hand somehow caused his elbow joint to extend to the brink of snapping. He howled in surprise.
The waiters looked on in surprise. None of them saw how Wen Hsiu had managed to close the space between him and the fighter before he grabbed his arm. Now the large muscular man was being immobilised by this lightly built young man that they have just met.
"Help me!" Ronnie cried.
Holding the stubble-head’s hand firmly Wen- Hsiu shot his heel into one of the thugs’ abdomen. A rib snapped loudly as the man’s body lifted off the ground upon impact and fell over.
With a violent twist of his body Wen Hsiu swung the stubble-head like a rag doll and sent him flying into his next assailant. The other thugs have maneuvered around him and now moved in all at once. Wen Hsiu disappeared in a blur of movement and the three remaining thugs were knocked over in a second by invisible attacks before he appeared again. He was poised in a low crouch with his elbow still in the position where it was when it struck his last assailant’s midriff while his other arm was extended to his side, his palm out in a warding off posture.
Mr. Lu felt his legs shaking. His jaw dropped. "So that is…"
Ling Hua finished his sentence: "… Chinese Gongfu."
Early the next morning Wen Hsiu was up on the rooftop with his mother. The building which housed, amongst others, the restaurant, Mr Lu’s home and also the room in which he and his mother slept, had a staircase leading to the roof. Here Mrs. Lu hung the washing on a line and it was also the place for early morning exercise. His movements matched that of his mother in perfect unison as they practiced the taolu, or gongfu pattern, together. He had long since mastered the art of gathering in energy and focusing it in sharp, powerful blows. His balance was faultless and his movements smooth and fluid.
When they have finished Ling Hua looked at her son with a warm smile. Not once after the incident has he shown any sign of anger, neither did he boast about his abilities. That was Wen Hsiu’s nature- Work is done and forgotten without any reward being sought. She was so proud of him.
She did feel, though, that he might not be fully aware of what was in store for them.
"Wen Hsiu…" she called before the lad could run off to the room.
"Yes?" Wen Hsiu asked, sensing his mother’s concern.
"Please remember- a lot of the people here carry firearms. I want you to remember that. You must be careful about getting into fights here…"
Wen Hsiu nodded and headed down the staircase.
Firearms were something that Wen Hsiu had only heard about once. His surrogate father, Gao Shang once told him a story of the Boxer Rebellion-
"They were all so convinced that their Gongfu would withstand these terrible weapons…" Gao Shang sighed as he stared into the night. "Pipes filled with gunpowder that exploded, burying pieces of metal deep inside a man’s body- destroying all organs in their way. They never stood a chance…"
"Could the monks not evade the pieces of metal?" an eight year old Wen Hsiu asked.
"No" Gao Shang replied. "Those pieces of metal flew much too fast to even be seen…"
The Restaurant’s chef was happy to see Wen Hsiu as he walked in. He called him over and led him to a very thoughtfully set table. Wen Hsiu’s eyes widened as he saw the food. The table had all of his favourite dishes: seafood soup, pork dumplings, fried beef with Chinese spinach and a steamed bun.
"It’s for our Champion." the chef beamed. "I hope you like it."
Wen Hsiu could not believe the generosity. He thanked the man and stood motionless, still coming to terms with the surprise.
"Come on!" the chef urged him on. "Eat up while it’s still warm!"
"Thank you." Wen Hsiu said again and sat down to eat.
Wen Hsiu was halfway through his meal when the waiters arrived. The Taekwondo instructor was first to greet him. He apologised for not introducing himself and the others earlier and Wen Hsiu soon learned that the Taekwondo instructor’s name was Dennis, or at least that it was his English name. The others were introduced without delay: Jimmy was a handsome looking young man who smiled as he bowed, George was a bit more muscular, John nodded quietly. The last one to introduce himself was a quiet, small built man who could not speak much English. He was A Kun.
"We’ve all decided…" the Taekwondo instructor said. " that we do not want to practice Taekwondo anymore. Will you please teach us Gongfu?"
"I don’t know." Wen Hsiu said. "I’ll ask my mother."
Ling Hua did not agree to let Wen Hsiu teach the waiters Gong Fu. She took that task upon herself. Wen Hsiu might have meant well, but she knew very well that there were risks to sparring with her super-powered son.
In one of the remote parts of Johannesburg one of the city’s shadier entrepreneurs was sitting behind his desk listening to Ronnie’s excuse.
"One man?!" he asked in a most unnerving calm tone.
Ronnie felt uneasy as the man stared at him. "Well- yeah! He knew Kung Fu!"
"Kung Fu?" the man asked quietly…
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