| Qin: The Would-be Apprentice "I have come to be your apprentice," Xiaoyang announced proudly. "Fuck off," Lao-Tzu said, without looking up from the manuscript he was writing. "Done got one." "Then I will be his apprentice." Xiaoyang rather liked this new idea. An apprentice to an apprentice: an extra layer of humility couldn’t hurt. "He don’t need one neither." "May I ask him?’ "Sure." Lao-Tzu went to the door and shouted, "Hey, cocksucker!" Xiaoyang blushed. He heard footsteps, then a disheveled figure appeared in the doorway. "This here’s my Eye-talian apprentice. Tell the man your name, boy." "Machiavelli, sir." "Tell him what you do here." "I suck cock, sir." Xiaoyang blanched. "That’s all, boy. Git back to work now." Lao-Tzu glanced at his visitor. "You sure you want to apprentice to that one?" Xiaoyang was fighting an urge to turn and run down the mountain. He remembered the dream three years ago which had set him on the path, not an easy one, leading to this place and this embarrassing moment. He realized tears were running down his cheeks. He began to sob audibly. "You read, boy?" Lao-Tzu asked. Xiaoyang nodded. "C’mere. Come on. I won’t bite, I promise." Xiaoyang walked to the floor desk in front of which Lao-Tzu was sitting cross-legged. "Lookit. What’d I just write? Come on. Read it out loud." Xiaoyang squinted. "The light is so dim." "Ain’t neither. You’s the one who’s dim. Read the fucking sentence." Xiaoyang took out his cigarette lighter, lighted it, and read, "What is there you lack?" "Agin, I want to hear it agin, slow like." "What... is... there... you... lack?" "That all? That all you see there?" "Yes." "And--?" Xiaoyang tears were drying. He was becoming angry. He had come so far at such a price, leaving his family, his job, sacrificing a secure future, then a year of confused wandering just to find the mountain. Now this ignorant, perverted old man was teasing him. He wanted to scream, to hit, to destroy. "You done forgot to breath, boy. Watch out. You go blind, your heart becomes steel when you forget your breathing. Your roots are in the very air and beyond, every minute, every second. What kind of tree cuts off its own roots, huh?" Lao-Tzu stood, put his hand lightly on Xiaoyang’s shoulder. "You read. That’s good. Most of ‘em cain’t even do that. Go back, find a stream. Sit by it a while, however long it takes. When you start breathing, come back up here. Then we talk." Back to Qin
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