Song of the Silk Road (9 page)

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Authors: Mingmei Yip

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BOOK: Song of the Silk Road
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8
Chinese Herbs
I
n the two weeks that followed, I visited Lop Nor four times. Sitting inside his store permeated with the fragrance of herbs—dried or cooking in a pot—we chatted about various things: the Silk Road, politics in Urumqi, happenings in the desert villages, and his favorite subject, and now mine also, Chinese herbs. Although I had not been particularly attracted to Chinese medicine, Lop Nor’s erudition on the subject and his enthusiasm unexpectedly sparked my interest.
Of course I enjoyed this solemn-mannered gentleman’s company, but I had to admit that my goal was selfish—picking his brain about snow lotuses in the Mountains of Heaven. However, I never left his store without buying a few herbs—usually the more expensive kind—as a token of my appreciation for his knowledge and his willingness to share and, most important, to bond with him.
One time, when I bought some very expensive ginseng from him, he said, “This herb is extremely hard to obtain, its price is astronomical, and what you can get in most stores is fake. . . .”
“Fake? How?”
“They mix it with thin wires to increase the weight so the store can charge more. But when you buy from me you always have your money’s worth. And you get the real herbs, some I even risked my life for.”
It didn’t matter whether I believed him, just whether I could get more information about herbs on the Mountains of Heaven out of him. However, I was glad but also surprised that our friendship could develop so easily. Was I really that interesting? Or maybe he was simply lonely?
One morning after entering Lop Nor’s store, I found that he was not, as usual, sitting behind the counter fussing with his herbs and the tiny scale.
“Lop Nor, Lily’s here,” I called, but no one answered.
I looked around, then went through the store to the backyard. There was Lop Nor, bare-chested and wearing kung fu pants fastened at the ankles. He was standing with his muscular feet wide apart on the thin rim of a large, round, water-filled urn, seemingly focusing hard on his martial arts stance.
I stopped to watch, trying my best not to make any noise that might break his concentration. Lop Nor’s hands were alternately pushing forward and drawing back huge, imaginary waves. Then, about fifteen minutes later, to my utter amazement, the water inside the urn started to bubble, emitting a gurgling sound. Gradually, the sound increased in volume and the bubbles in ferocity. It was then I realized that the water was boiling by itself with no fire under it!
A loud, involuntary
“Wah!”
shot out from my mouth.
Swiftly Lop Nor jumped down from the urn, his eyes drilling holes in mine. “Miss Lin, what are you doing here?!”
His voice was loud and harsh. He had never before talked to me like that.
“Sorry, Lop Nor, I didn’t see you in the store so I came out and found you here.”
He slipped on his thin jacket while still penetrating my eyes with his tigerlike ones.
“Sorry,” I added nervously, “but the door was unlocked.”
“I must have forgotten to lock it. When you come back to this courtyard next time, please alert me right away. I don’t want to be put off balance by the presence of feminine energy,” he said, swiping away big beads of perspiration on his broad forehead with a white cloth.
“You’re able to sense that?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to break off the
qi
in the middle of my practice. Not until you cut it off. I’m done now. Let’s go back to the store.”
Both awed and intimidated, I humbly followed this
qi
-boiling-water master back into his shop.
After we sat down by the counter, I asked, “Lop Nor, how can you make the water boil without fire?”
“I focus my
qi
.”
I was too stunned to say anything.
He smiled a little. “Actually I borrow it from the universe.”
“How can someone do that?”
“It takes many years of bitter practice plus a profound understanding of
qi
distribution in the cosmos.”
He went on to tell me some amazing stunts of
qigong
masters. His grandfather could direct
qi
from his fingertips to extinguish five lit candles and send a row of people stumbling back without even touching them.
“With
qigong
, you control all the energies of the universe.”
I knew even if I asked more it would be to no avail. My Westernized, ignorant mind was too shallow and unprepared for anything so grandiose. So, after some silence, I changed our conversation to what was most on my mind—visiting the Mountains of Heaven for the special snow lotus.
When I mentioned my desire to seek this peculiar herb, an alarmed expression fleeted across my healer friend’s face.
“Miss Lin, just let me know what you want, and I’ll get them for you. It’s not suitable for a young woman like yourself to travel there alone. The trip could be very dangerous if you don’t know your way.”
“But I must go there by myself.”
He studied me as if I were from another planet. “Do you speak Uyghur?”
“Of course not!”
“If you’re three thousand meters above sea level and get sick, do you know what to do? Do you have any experience living in uninhabited wilderness?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Can you climb up icy cliffs and gather plants between their cracks?”
I shook my head, now feeling totally defeated.
“Then what makes you think you can get there by yourself?”
I sighed. “Because I have to.” I suppressed the rest of my thought—to get the three million dollars.
“No, that is very foolish of you.” He widened his eyes. “Let me get it for you. Or if you like, I can go with you.”
That didn’t seem such a bad idea, but should I trust him? Why not? Since he was a healer, I didn’t think he’d harm or cheat me. Besides, I believed there was already some kind of bond established between us.
“Anyway, I plan to visit the Mountains of Heaven soon, and the Black Dragon Pond to visit my relatives.”
“They live by the pond?”
“No, they are buried there.”
“What happened?” This revelation caught me by surprise; he’d never mentioned a family. My heart started to pound, awaiting something beyond my imagination, or reason.
“I’ll tell you when we’re there,” Lop Nor said while reaching to stroke the white jade pendant he always wore against his chest. I’d been noticing this habit of his and the luminous jade pendant for some time. A unique, exquisite piece. He seemed quite attached to it, but should he ever be willing to part with it, I would happily pay a lot.
“It’s a beautiful pendant. Is it old?”
My friend didn’t answer my question, but stood up and went to the small kitchen area next to the counter. “Now I’ll cook some
dang gui
with lamb to invigorate you, so you’ll have enough energy for your trip to the Mountains of Heaven.”
Even though I was Western educated, I had heard of
dang gui
. In the famous Cantonese opera
Princess Chang Ping,
every day the princess had her maid cook
dang gui
—
dang
means ought and
gui
means return. So the name is a synonym for “time to come home.” The princess believed that the cooking of this herb would speed up her husband’s return.
Ridiculous, I almost blurted out, but stopped myself just in time.
Instead I asked, “Why is
dang gui
good for women?”
Lop Nor put the ginseng-like herb inside the pot together with some thin strips of lamb, then put a lid on the pot. After cooking for a while, he began to fan the fire with one hand while stirring the pot with his other. “Because it adjusts your
qi
and nourishes your blood.
Dang gui
is the best tonic and fortifier for women. It will enter the heart, liver, and spleen meridians to regulate
qi
and menstruation.”
“Wow, that sounds really impressive.” I lifted up the lid and stared into the broth, now beginning to emit a pungent, bittersweet smell.
Lop Nor cast a sidelong glance while sprinkling the soup with some black herbs. “Maybe you don’t really believe in it. But this has been helping women in China for thousands of years.”
Next he dropped a few dried lumps into the boiling pot. “This is
dan shen
root to cool, nourish, and enhance your circulation. Your
yin
body type needs it.”
That made sense. After all I must have plenty of
yin
, since I possessed
yin
eyes to see spirits. But of course I was not going to offer this piece of
yin
information to a very
yang
man like him. Nor did I think it was the right time to ask him about his mysterious visit to the graveyard. But didn’t he imply that his family was buried near the lake?
So, instead of asking him about his dead relatives, I asked Lop Nor to tell me more about life-prolonging herbs.
“
Yin
foods grow in shaded places, so they are cool and moisturizing.
Yang
foods are warm because they grow exposed to the sun. Your body belongs to the cool type so you should eat more spicy, energy-giving
yang
food like meat and stews to generate heat in your body and stimulate your
qi
to circulate. However, since you’re now living in the hot, dry desert, your body needs to protect its
yin
energy.”
Talking, he lifted the lid and studied the boiling contents while stirring the mixture in a gentle, rhythmic motion.
He went on. “Herbs are consumed to balance, cooling the body in summer and warming it during winter, so we won’t get heatstroke or chilled. Chinese medicine aims for the balance of
qi
in our body. We prepare herbs to prevent diseases, not to cure after we’ve caught them.”
Now the pleasant smell of the soup filled the room. After more stirring, my friend carefully ladled the contents of the pot into a big ceramic bowl.
Both the soup and meat tasted unbelievably good. After only a few sips and bites, I already felt my whole body warming up in a very comforting way.
Lop Nor asked, “Feel the heat inside you now?”
I nodded, sending another spoon of soup into my mouth. “Yes, excellent soup, thank you so much, Lop Nor.”
“You should feel the
qi
emanating from the soup, since I sent my
qi
into it,” he said.
I gave him a curious look.
He returned my look with a “how-come-you-never-heard-about-this” expression. “You have to be able to practice for a long time to do this.”
I quickly drank another spoon of the dark liquid. How could a Uyghur man in this remote village talk so eloquently like a traditional Chinese scholar?
“Lop Nor, may I ask how you know all this?”
“From my grandfather, who was a Chinese herbalist and
qigong
master.” He paused, then said, “Because of him, although my father was Uyghur, the cultivation of
qi
for longevity was very much emphasized in my family.”
“So your parents are still enjoying their longevity?”
To my surprise, Lop Nor’s expression suddenly turned unfathomable, and even bitter.
All he said was, “They should have.”
“What do you mean—something happened?”
Just then a fortyish Uyghur woman wearing a colorful headscarf and matching outfit stepped inside the store with a young boy. A gap-toothed smile bloomed on her long, brown face.
Lop Nor immediately went up to the duo and led them to sit down by the counter next to me.
She spoke in a language totally lost on me. However, her expression told me she was very upset about something concerning the boy, probably her son, for they looked almost identical.
My friend started to examine the boy’s eyes, face, tongue, and pulse. After that, he spoke to the mother in the same strange language.
To my puzzlement, the woman raised her voice and gesticulated wildly as if arguing, but my herbalist friend remained calm and continued to explain patiently, what I had no idea. He turned to speak to the boy in a very gentle voice, but the kid responded by shaking his head and starting to cry. Then to my surprise, the woman suddenly pinched her son’s ear. This time the boy responded by yelling and crying hysterically, spitting something imaginary from his mouth.
Lop Nor tried to explain more, but the woman, her expression furious and her face turning purple, pulled her son out of the store.
After they’d left, I asked, “What happened?”
My friend smiled wryly. “She’s not very happy with my diagnosis.”
“The boy sick?”
He laughed. “No, he’s perfectly OK, just refuses to eat meat. I told the woman she has to let him be. He’s a born vegetarian. But she was furious with me and said, ‘There’s no such thing as born vegetarian, otherwise we’d all starve to death!’ She told me her husband works very hard to save money to buy meat, but the son always wastes it by spitting it out. One time he even secretly threw it down to feed a wild dog. When she saw what had happened she pulled the meat from the dog’s filthy mouth and forced it down her son’s throat.”

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