As Gulin walked through the forest, he thought that maybe it was a good thing that the old man chased him away since he still had to gather more medicinal herbs for his father. It was a tedious and boring task, but it was his job and he'd been doing it for as long as he could remember. Also, he was good at it, Gulin thought. He could spot the flowers and roots from far away and he knew all of the telltale signs of the best places where they grew. But still, he didn't exactly enjoy doing it, especially not all by himself.
He used to pick the herbs with his father, but now that Gulin was older, his father wanted Gulin to do it alone. According to him, it was to build character and self reliance. But Gulin had a suspicion that his father didn't like picking herbs just as much as he did, and was avoiding the job. The only part Gulin enjoyed about searching for medicinal herbs was that it gave him the opportunity to find places to nap. Other than that, it was mostly boring.
While digging out the roots of yinsin plant, careful not to break any of them, Gulin wondered what his life would have been like if his father had never become an herbalist. He could probably have chosen a different job for himself. When he was younger, he had dreams of becoming a high ranking general in the army. But as he got older, he realized that it required a lot of training and winning a lot of battles to get there. Worst of all, he would be responsible for thousands of lives, and that kind of pressure wasn't something he wanted to experience.
Gulin now fantasized about being a fisherman. It was the ideal job; he could sit around on a boat for most of the day while waiting for the fish to be caught in his net. The most work he would have to do was pull the fish filled nets back up and deliver them to sellers. He would also never have to worry about food since he would always have fish to eat. Just picturing his fantasy life made him smile.
The sun was well past the high point and on its way down when Gulin looked into his sack of herbs. As he rummaged inside to make sure he had gotten a sufficient amount of everything his father had asked for, he discovered that he was missing Tiger root. It was the main ingredient for the pills his father was making, and Gulin had meant to pick it at the base of the waterfall after his nap, but he had been distracted by those six strangers.
He looked back towards the direction of the waterfall and contemplated walking back for the Tiger root before quickly shaking his head. It was too far of a walk and the sun was about to set; by the time he had picked the root and returned, it would have been dark. So, Gulin decided to pick up some nearby lesser substitutes instead, hoping that it would placate his father. 'It probably won't. But it was better than nothing', he thought.
After Gulin finally picked all of the herbs, he arrived at the entrance of abandoned temple where they made camp. The temple was located deep within the forest and surrounded by trees and overgrown shrubberies. It was a simple temple; it had four walls, a roof, and a large statue of the Divine Maiden placed against the furthest wall from the entrance.
It must have been quite some time since the temple had been abandoned, as everything was caked in dust and covered with cobwebs when Gulin and his father first arrived. They spent most of their first day here cleaning it up and repairing what they could, making it a more suitable place to stay. But it was probably still a shadow of what it looked like before.
When Gulin entered the temple, he saw that his father by the statue. He was hunched over a table with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and grinding something with his pestle.
"I'm back", Gulin said. His father looked up and put down his pestle before wiping the sweat his brow with the back of his hand.
"Why are you back so late?" he asked, looking off at the setting sun behind Gulin. "Off napping somewhere again?"
Gulin chose not respond to his father's accurate guess and placed the sack of herbs on the table his father was working at. "Some of these were hard to find, but I got most of the herbs we needed. I couldn't find tiger root but we can substitute it with some yellow orchid petals and black acorn leaves right? I mean together they do almost the same thing that Tiger root does."
Gulin's father opened the sack and inspected the herbs that Gulin picked, rubbing a black acorn leaf in between his fingers. "That's right, together, they do have similar healing properties as tiger root. It was very resourceful of you to come up with this solution. But", his father dropped the acorn leaf back into the sack, "you would need a sack full of each to do what one tiger root could do."
"Oh", was all Gulin could say.
"Tiger root is very abundant in this area. You should have easily found them by the waterfalls. Did you not look at all?"
"I guess I just don't have an eye for it like you do", Gulin lied. His father folded his arms and raised both of his eyebrows, waiting for the truth. Gulin tried his best to keep a straight face but it wasn't long before he finally broke with a guilty smile. "Sorry", he looked down at the ground and began scratching the back of his head. His father shook his head and sighed.
"When are you going to grow up? You're already old enough to have a child of your own", his father scolded him.
"What? No way! How can I take care of a child and wife when I have to care of you?"
Gulin's father smacked him on the back of the head. It wasn't a hard hit, but it was quick enough to catch Gulin by surprise. "Don't be silly", his father said, "one day you'll have a family of your own to raise. I'll be fine."
Gulin couldn't imagine what it would be like to have to raise a family of his own without his father. Most of his memories were spent travelling across the country with his father; most of the time staying in abandoned places like this, or if they were lucky and had the money, an inn. It didn't even seem possible to Gulin that he would ever be apart from him.
"It's okay. Let's just sit down and eat. We'll figure it out tomorrow", his father walked to another corner of the temple and dug out four potatoes that were buried under a pile of black coals that were still hot. "Here", his father handed him two before they both sat down on the stone alter in front of the Divine Maiden statue.
Gulin's mouth began to water as soon as he had the warm potatoes in hand, not realizing how hungry he was until then. He broke the potato in half and watched the warm steam rise into the air and smelt the earthy aroma it released. He then took his first bite and closed his eyes in ecstasy. After not eating for most of the day, a simple potato was enough to bring him happiness. He then took another bite. And another. And another. Finishing most of his first potato in mere seconds.
"If you don't slow down, you're going to choke", his father said as Gulin was about to take another bite of his potato. Gulin, embarrassed, slowly lowered the potato and made a conscious effort to chew what was in his mouth. He then watched his father eat, observing him so he could mirror him.
But as he watched his father, Gulin couldn't help but realize he didn't look much like the other herbalist they had come across. His father was tall, broad shouldered, and muscular. The other herbalist Gulin had seen were usually smaller and frail looking. If Gulin had never met him, he would have thought his father was something that required strength like a blacksmith. Or a swordsman.
Gulin used to believe that his father was a swordsman before he became an herbalist, but his father vehemently denied it anytime he asked. He claimed that he only learned martial arts for health, discipline, and to protect himself and Gulin when they went out to pick herbs. Gulin wanted to believe his father's story, but something about it seemed off. He had seen other martial artist before, some who had said they had dedicated their entire lives to it, but they weren't as skilled as his father, or even himself. Where had his father learned his martial arts? He often asked. But his father had become angry with the badgering questions and Gulin dropped it entirely and never brought it up again; only thinking about it from time to time.
"Father", Gulin began to open his second potato, "what did you do before you became an herbalist?"
"I told you I was a farmer", he said after swallowing. "Why?"
"I don't know. You just don't really look like the other herbalist we've seen."
His father looked down at his muscular fore arms and smiled, "that's because I train in martial arts. If you spent more time training instead of napping, you'd look more like me."
"I don't think I'll ever look like you", Gulin said, staring at his father's beard while rubbing his own bare chin. His father let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.
"No. I don't think you will. You look more like your mother than you do me", he said. His father then looked at the potato in his hand with a sad smile. It was the same look he had every time Gulin's mother was brought up.
Gulin only had faded a memory of his mother in his mind where she held his hand by a small stream when he was a small child. He could never picture her face though. It was always blank when he tried to remember it. That short fuzzy memory and the wooden pendant he wore on his neck was all he had to remember her by. It was small and round like a coin with a glyph carved into it that meant love. They were the only things she had left behind for Gulin before she died.
It was a common illness that took her away. His father blamed her death on himself. He thought that if he had learned about medicinal herbs earlier, he could have saved her. But Gulin never thought it was his father's fault. He only blamed fate, bad luck, and random happenstance.
"What was mother like again?" Gulin asked, trying to relieve some of the burden his father held by himself.
After letting out a soft sigh, his father spoke. "She was beautiful, warm, and kind. She was always off helping somebody, no matter what she was doing", he looked up from the potato and towards Gulin. "I remember this one time when she was still pregnant with you and she carried a big basket of apples two miles to an old man's home. I was so angry with her that day. She should have been at home resting. But she kept on insisting that she felt sorry for the old man because he had no family left behind to care for him." His father smiled gently. "She was always off doing things like that. It's why I fell in love with her."
"But it probably explains why you're so lazy. She did all that hard work while you were in her belly and now, you're too tired to do anything", his father nudged him with his elbow and laughed. Gulin joined in. "Okay, let's finish our food and go to sleep. It's getting dark and you have to wake up early tomorrow and get that Tiger root I asked for", his father said. Gulin nodded.
After they both finished their food, Gulin unfurled the straw mats they slept on and placed each one at opposite sides of the temple. While Gulin was doing this, his father was placing the still warm coals in a stone bowl with his bare hands, snatching them up one by one and dropping them quickly inside the bowl. He then placed the stone bowl of coals in between the two mats and laid down on his mat.
Gulin was already sitting down and eagerly placed his hands in front of the warm bowl of coal. As the the coals heated the palm of his hands, Gulin was reminded of the warm embrace of the sun beside the waterfall today. It was the perfect spot to nap, he thought to himself. When he closed his eyes and curled his arm beneath his head, Gulin felt like he was transported there immediately. He could almost feel the sun cover him as if he was underneath a blanket. And when it got too warm under there, as it often did, the misty breeze from the waterfall would cool him down. But the best part was the rushing waterfall that drowned almost all the sound around him. It was loud, but the consistent sound of water falling into the pool of water was like a lullaby singing him to sleep.
But as Gulin imagined the soothing sounds of the waterfalls, ready to fall asleep, he felt a familiar uncomfortable pressure begin to build up inside of him. With a deep sigh, Gulin got up and made his way outside. He wasn't about to wet his mat like he did as a child. Or that one time two years ago.
He walked quietly past his sleeping father, who seemed to fall asleep instantaneously like he usually did, a trick Gulin was madly envious of, and went outside to the back of the temple. Gulin then walked towards the tree line, his vision only illuminated by the moonlight, and found the suitable tree to relieve himself.
But after Gulin was finished and tying the sash of his pants back up, he heard a loud snap coming from the forest in front of him. Gulin froze, almost certain that the sound came from close by. He stayed completely still with his heart racing in his chest, waiting for another sound. But he heard nothing else but the ordinary sounds of the night after waiting there for a few minutes with both of his hands still holding onto his sash,
Gulin let out a sigh of relief and finished tying up the sash. He chuckled to himself as he began to walk back inside. 'I'm glad no one saw that. It would have been hard to explain why I was just standing there in the dark with my pants undone', he thought. 'Probably just a wild animal.'
However, just as he was about turn the corner, he felt a sudden urge to take one last look back to make sure it was nothing. It was probably an animal that made the sound, but for all Gulin knew, it could have been a dangerous animal as well. So, he turned around and began to survey the tree line, looking for anything suspicious. But just like before, there was nothing. He was just being paranoid. Besides, even if it was a dangerous animal, what could he do with his bare hands? Grapple the tiger into submission? Gulin shook his head at his foolish thoughts.
But then Gulin caught something from the corner of his eyes. He turned quickly and narrowed his vision towards it. He was beginning to feel like he was just being paranoid again until he saw something move again. It was a person; slowly walking towards him.
"Hey, who's out there!?" Gulin yelled. There was no response. The figure just continued to walk towards the temple. Gulin picked up a nearby branch, afraid that the figure would hide somewhere if he went inside to get his sword, and pointed it towards the figure. "I'll", he looked down at the flimsy branch he picked up, "spank you to death if you get any closer." But again, the figure ignored him and kept moving.
So, out of either fear, bravery, or most likely foolishness, Gulin charged towards the figure, frail branch in hand, and gave it a backhanded swing.
The figure dodged the swing with a surprisingly quick step back, and countered with an equally quick punch towards Gulin's chest. Luckily Gulin caught the strike with his free hand before it hit him, and braced himself for the aftermath of a powerful strike. But to his surprise, there was no power from the figure's fist despite the amazing speed it was launched at. It was just a simple tap. The figure then fell forward and collapsed on top of Gulin.
Gulin, completely caught off guard, stepped back and let the figure fall on the dirt ground with a dull sound; face first. It was then that Gulin finally got a good look at the figure under the moonlight and discovered that it was a man. A man with blood splattered across his clothes.