Seeing the man's cold attitude, Jason Luo spoke directly. "Master Liu, I've traveled a long way just to learn some real martial arts. I sincerely ask for your guidance."
"Martial arts? You've come to the wrong place. I'm just a tofu maker—I can't teach you anything. You'd better leave while you can." With that, he turned to go back inside.
Jason quickly called out, "Master Liu, Master Datchai sent me! I have his personal letter!"
"Datchai?" Liu Jiguang stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around. When he saw Jason pull a letter from his bag, he paused for a moment before calling out, "Erhu, bring the letter here."
The big black dog trotted forward, took the letter gently from Jason's hand, and brought it to its master. Liu Jiguang went inside with the letter, and for a long time, there was no sound.
Outside, man and dog waited quietly. Jason didn't dare move.
After what felt like ten minutes, a long sigh came from inside. "Kid, come in."
Jason glanced nervously at the black dog. But Erhu seemed to lose interest in him, turning and slowly padding back to its doghouse...
What a smart dog.
Jason stepped into the house. It was messy, filled with tools for making tofu—a bed, a table, and a chair, and nothing else.
Liu Jiguang sat on the bed and gestured for Jason to take the only bamboo chair.
"Datchai's still alive?"
"Yes. He's in good health."
Liu Jiguang thought for a moment. "It's been over twenty years... I was just a teenager back then. Kid, you're a boxer? What's the point of learning kung fu?"
"Well... Master Liu, I want to learn power generation techniques and waist-horse coordination to improve my punching power and make up for boxing's weak lower stance."
Liu Jiguang fell silent, staring at the letter in his hand for a long time without speaking.
Jason didn't dare interrupt.
After a while, Liu Jiguang finally put the letter away, stood up, and said, "Take off your clothes."
"What?"
Jason froze. What kind of rule was that?
But Liu Jiguang gave no explanation. Jason reluctantly took off his jacket, only for the man to add, "Pants, shoes, socks—everything."
Well, good thing they were both men. Jason stripped down to his underwear, standing there awkwardly.
Liu Jiguang studied his physique carefully. "Your bones and muscles are well-developed. Looks like you've got some strength. Learning martial arts is out of the question, but since you came all this way, I won't send you back empty-handed. Stay and help me make tofu for three days."
He pulled over a leather apron and handed it to Jason. "If you're willing, stay. If not, go back to America."
Jason was stunned.
He had come to learn martial arts, and time was already short—why was he suddenly being asked to make tofu? Wasn't this just using him for labor?
But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it. Master Liu didn't seem the type to exploit someone like that, and he hadn't mentioned money once. There had to be a reason behind it.
So, wearing nothing but his underwear and the leather apron, Jason followed Master Liu into the side room—the tofu workshop.
Tofu-making required water, and Jason quickly realized why he'd had to undress. Every step splashed bean juice everywhere, and the smell was strong and lingering...
Grinding beans, boiling soy milk, curdling with brine—everything seemed normal. Jason had never done any of it before, but none of it was complicated. After watching twice, he could manage on his own, and the work wasn't too hard.
Master Liu barely spoke, keeping his head down and working in silence. Jason wasn't sure if he was doing things right, but he felt a bit disappointed nonetheless.
Once the soy milk began to solidify, Master Liu laid cheesecloth in the mold, poured in the mixture, and began to press the tofu.
He pointed toward a massive square stone in the courtyard. "Bring that stone over and use it for the press."
Jason frowned. The granite slab was nearly a meter long and more than half a meter thick—at least two hundred kilos, smooth and impossible to grip. How was he supposed to move that?
But since Master Liu had said so, he had to try. Jason took a deep breath and strained to lift it. The stone shifted slightly but wouldn't come off the ground—it was far too heavy.
He tried a different angle, managing to stand it upright after great effort, but he still couldn't move it. Within moments, he was drenched in sweat.
Liu Jiguang stood watching silently. When Jason finally gave up, Liu calmly stepped forward, lifted the stone by wedging it against his thighs, and carried it over single-handedly.
After setting it in place, he said, "Alright, that's done. Kid, I advise you to drop this idea. Learning martial arts harms both yourself and others. Go back and focus on your boxing—it'll do you more good."
Jason protested, "How can you say that? The government encourages the promotion of traditional martial arts. And I just want to learn from it—how could that hurt anyone?"
"The government promotes martial arts, not martial skills. Martial arts and martial skills aren't the same thing. Martial skills are the arrow, martial arts the bow. Without the arrow, the bow's just decoration. The world's moved on—what's the point of learning this now?"
Jason caught a hint of something in his tone and quickly said, "Maybe you're right, but I truly want to learn. The knowledge passed down from our ancestors must have value. Should we really just let it fade into history?"
Liu Jiguang sighed. "How long are you planning to stay?"
Jason counted on his fingers. "Seven... no, six days at most."
Liu burst out laughing. "Six days! I've trained since I was seven—never missed a single day—and I'm still just halfway there. You think six days is enough to learn martial arts? You've got guts, I'll give you that."
Jason looked embarrassed. "If you just teach me the method, I'll keep training wherever I go."
Liu's laughter subsided. "Kid, since fate brought you here, I'll do this much. Datchai was my father's close friend—I owe him that. I won't call it formal apprenticeship, but in three days, take what you can. It'll depend on your understanding."
Jason brightened. "Thank you, Master!"
Liu wasted no words. He had Jason take a solid horse stance, then fetched a heavy stone and said, "To train waist and stance Technique, your foundation must be steady. There's a kind of finesse involved, but first, your waist and legs must be strong. I need to see where you stand. Hold it—the longer, the better."
Then he went inside to cook.
The stone he'd handed over weighed at least forty pounds. Within ten minutes, Jason's legs were burning, his waist trembling. His arms were fine, but keeping his balance was the real challenge.
Swaying back and forth was agony. Just then, the black dog Erhu wandered over, looked at him, and gave a very human-like shake of its head before trotting into the kitchen for food.
Seriously? Even the dog's mocking me now.
Jason gritted his teeth and pushed through. Slowly, in the midst of his swaying, he found a balance point. The flat stone acted as a counterweight, easing the strain on his waist. Jason felt a spark of excitement—he might just make it until dinner.