Jason Luo had developed a strong fascination with traditional martial arts and pestered Master Liu to teach him all five fundamental footwork techniques.
Each morning, he practiced boxing; in the afternoons, he studied how to control falling force and shift his center of gravity. The main focus was to grasp the correct training methods. Master Liu reminded him repeatedly that these were foundational skills, built through steady progress and accumulation—one could not rush or seek shortcuts.
The pork they bought was cooked into dishes that same day, while the rest was smoked into cured meat for storage.
With wine and meat at hand, Master Liu drank freely, though Jason Luo firmly refused to join him, which made Liu Jiguang slightly displeased.
"You can't drink during competitions, sure. But having a few cups once in a while to loosen up your muscles and promote circulation—what's the harm in that?"
"Master Liu, you don't know—my father used to be a heavy drinker. I swore I'd never touch alcohol in my life."
"Oh, I see... that explains it."
Drinking alone was dull, and soon the room grew quiet.
Two of the three days had already passed. During a moment of rest, Jason Luo asked the question that had been on his mind.
"Uncle Liu, why don't you find someone to share your life with? Living all alone like this—it's too lonely!"
Liu Jiguang drained his cup and let out a laugh.
"Heh, that's exactly why I don't want you to learn true Kung Fu, Jason Luo. Martial arts is like rowing upstream—if you don't move forward, you fall back. You have to persist no matter what. But once you start a family, what woman could endure such a hard life? And if children come along, it's even harder... Times have changed. People like me have nowhere to use our skills. We can't even make a decent living..."
Jason Luo thought for a moment.
"But others open martial arts schools and take on students. Their income seems decent. With your skills, you'd never have to worry about food or money."
"Hmph! Most of those schools are all show and no substance. Their students are half-hearted, thinking two hours a day and three months of training will make them masters? Years ago, people asked me to be their coach—I told them to get lost."
Jason Luo couldn't find a better solution either.
"But if you keep going like this, won't your skills die with you?"
"If they're lost, then so be it. I can't change that. In this world where money rules everything, I can barely get by myself. Who could I possibly expect to carry on my art?"
With that, he lifted a half-empty bottle and downed it in one go.
Jason Luo felt a heaviness in his chest.
"Don't give up so easily. There's always a way. I really think you should try to rejoin society. You can't live like this forever."
"What's wrong with it? Erhu and I have been together for over ten years. It's fine. Maybe when I reach the stage of effortless control, I'll think about other things... Women? I don't care about that anymore."
Master Liu was drunk, and his words, half truth and half emotion, left Jason Luo quietly sighing.
He helped Master Liu back to his room and made sure he was settled before slowly descending the mountain.
...
On the third day, Jason Luo checked out, shouldered his backpack, and headed straight back up the mountain. When he arrived at the tofu workshop, Master Liu didn't waste time.
"People meet through fate," he said. "Today's your last day. You already know how to train leg strength and how to switch between forces. You don't need to go to the training ground today. Instead, I'll teach you the formulas and concentration methods for Zhuang Gong (Stance Training). This will help you greatly."
"To make it easier to understand and remember, I'll demonstrate each stance for you. Watch carefully and ask whenever something isn't clear."
"First, the upright stance: feet shoulder-width apart, soles pressing firmly against the ground. Toes grip tightly, knees slightly bent, hips rounded to contain energy, thighs rotated outward..."
...
Jason Luo, having grown up in America, could barely understand the ancient formulas. Liu Jiguang patiently explained every detail, stressing their importance again and again.
"Jason Luo, boxing aims to knock out your opponent. That means your center of gravity is crucial. Power starts from the feet—only a stable foundation allows explosive force. If you train consistently, you'll reap real results."
Though the entire Zhuang Gong routine had only seven stances, it was incredibly complex. Jason Luo couldn't memorize everything, so he wrote detailed notes with explanations.
By sunset, only two stances met Master Liu's satisfaction.
"Alright, we agreed—whatever you master in three days is yours to keep. Time's up. I won't keep you any longer. Go down the mountain, and remember to practice diligently."
Jason Luo bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your guidance, Master Liu. When I have the chance, I'll come visit again. Farewell!"
"Good. I'll be waiting for you, kid."
Without further words, Jason Luo stepped out of the courtyard. He took an envelope from his bag—inside was ten thousand yuan—and shouted, "Erhu, catch!" tossing it through the door before turning to run.
"Uncle Liu, wait for me! I'll be back someday!"
When Liu Jiguang opened the envelope and saw the money, he rushed outside—but Jason Luo was already gone.
"Ah, what a good kid... shame our paths crossed too late."
...
Jason Luo's trip to Putian had been deeply rewarding. It fulfilled his lifelong dream of learning martial arts and gave him new inspiration for his boxing career.
Indeed, he had always wanted to develop a signature move of his own. Every boxing champion had their defining technique: Pacquiao's relentless flurries, Tyson's pendulum rushes, Golovkin's lethal body hooks, Mayweather's shoulder-roll defense...
Jason Luo dreamed that one day, people would remember him for his unique boxing style—something distinct enough to be called "Luo-style Boxing." He imagined future coaches saying, "This move is Jason Luo's signature technique." That thought alone filled him with pride.
He had no interest in being called "Little Tyson" or "Yellow Tyson," living under someone else's shadow. He wanted to carve his own path—but he knew it wouldn't be easy.
...
Once his business there was finished, Jason Luo took a night flight to Taiyuan, Shanxi, then traveled by bus to Jiexiu the next day.
Jiexiu, once the home of the legendary Jie Zitui—the loyal man whose self-sacrifice on Mount Mian inspired the Qingming and Cold Food Festivals—later became one of Shanxi's main centers for coal and coke production after China's economic reforms. Though only a county-level city, it was once among the wealthiest in the province.
When they arrived, Henry Luo brought him to meet Grace's maternal grandparents. Both families had been torn apart by tragedy, but now that Grace was back, she became the treasure of both homes. They expressed heartfelt gratitude to Henry Luo's family and treated them with great warmth.
Shanxi is a paradise for noodle lovers. Locals make every kind you can imagine—flat noodles, knife-cut noodles, ribbon noodles, oil-splashed noodles, "cat's ears," dipping slices, and more. You could eat there for two weeks and never repeat the same dish!
Grace's grandmother was a master of flower buns, molding lifelike animals out of dough that seemed ready to leap off the table. Jason Luo was astonished. If she brought that craft to America, she'd be hailed as an artist.
Since returning home, Grace had become a lively young woman again. She took Jason Luo around Mount Mian, picking sea buckthorn berries, digging licorice roots, proudly introducing every plant and tree of her beloved homeland.