Chapter 12 Gong Kang

　　—In life, whatever the circumstances, the foremost matter is the attitude with which one meets them.

　　While the five were still pondering the meaning of Chieftain Kong Xiaotian’s words, a sudden crash startled them.

　　Looking toward the sound, they saw the great door flung violently open; a young man strode hurriedly into the hall.

　　“Elder Brother, why have you returned so late?” the second son complained.

　　The young man hastily knelt before the Great Chieftain: “Father, your son returns late; I beg forgiveness.”

　　“Gong Kang, you have returned at last.” The Great Chieftain nodded; far from displeasure, his eyes held only approval and satisfaction. “Come quickly and pay your respects to the celestial gods.”

　　“Your son already heard from the guards at the gate that celestial gods had arrived.” The young man turned and looked toward Su Ziqi and her companions.

　　When he clearly saw their attire, astonishment appeared upon his face; he dropped to one knee: “Gong Kang pays his respects to the celestial gods and wishes my lords eternal life!”

　　The Great Chieftain introduced him: “Honored celestial gods, this is my eldest son, the foremost warrior of our clan—Gong Kang.”

　　The five rose at once. Su Ziqi, speaking for the group, clasped her hands in salute: “Young Master, there is no need for such ceremony. We are not celestial gods.”

　　As she spoke, her eyes met those of the young man called Gong Kang, and she felt a sudden inner start.

　　He appeared older than Gong Yi and Gongkong, standing at least 1.9 meters tall, his head wrapped in a yellow cloth, his skin dark, his brows thick, his eyes large, his nose high and his mouth broad, his shoulders and waist powerfully built—exceptionally robust.

　　Most remarkable of all, his eyes were doublepupiled, his gaze like lightning; his temples bulged, and between his brows shone an air of heroic spirit.

　　Standing there he resembled a lighthouse; even the NightBright Flowers set in the walls, radiant though they were, seemed to bend before the force of his presence and dare not contend with him.

　　Su Ziqi thought privately: “This Gong Kang’s appearance is extraordinary. In history those with double pupils were always heroic figures; this Gong Kang is perhaps no ordinary man.”

　　Gong Kang in turn examined the faces of the five and showed still greater surprise: “This is the first time I have seen celestial gods who look exactly like us!”

　　He rose and turned to Gongkong: “Third Brother, this morning in the forest I saw a great bird trailing black smoke fly across the sky. Was that an omen of good or of ill?”

　　“Elder Brother, that great bird was the conveyance of the celestial gods,” Gongkong replied.

　　“Then it was a gift of auspicious fortune. The arrival of the humanclan celestial gods in our clan will surely bring prosperity.”

　　“Humph—our Young Master probably did not go hunting, but rather to meet his beloved,” someone at the table remarked in an ambiguous tone.

　　All eyes turned; the speaker was Chieftain Kong Xiaotian of the Tiger Tribe.

　　“Chieftain Xiaotian, tonight the celestial gods have descended upon our clan—truly a blessing. Family matters can wait,” the High Priest Fang Mu interjected, smoothing the moment.

　　Kong Xiaotian snorted through his nose and drained a bowl of wine.

　　Su Ziqi and her companions remained puzzled by the chieftain’s persistent cryptic remarks.

　　Once seated, Gong Kang reached out a large hand, drew a great platter of meat toward himself, took a large joint in each hand, and began to chew with vigorous cheeks.

　　He must have been truly hungry; within a short time a small mountain of discarded bones had risen before him. Those of the clan seated nearby regarded the sight as entirely ordinary.

　　Having eaten his fill, Gong Kang belched, rose, and with a wine jar in his left hand and a bowl in his right began to toast each of the guests in turn.

　　When he reached Huamei, Huamei merely raised the bowl to his lips and touched it lightly.

　　Gong Kang noted this, drained his own bowl, and dropped a remark: “This celestial god is truly lacking in boldness!”

　　He then toasted every member of the clan in succession—first his parents, then the High Priest, the tribal chieftains, and his brothers and sisters.

　　When he came to Chieftain Kong Xiaotian he said respectfully: “Gong Kang pays his respects to Fatherinlaw and wishes him long life!” He drained another bowl.

　　Kong Xiaotian snorted twice more and likewise emptied his bowl.

　　Gong Kang toasted every person present; whether the other drank or not, he himself drained each bowl. After more than a dozen bowls his face remained unchanged, his expression composed, without the slightest sign of intoxication.

　　“Gong Kang is truly bold—what a capacity for wine!” All who watched felt private admiration.

　　The night grew deep, the wine was exhausted, and the guests were near intoxication.

　　When the banquet ended, the Great Chieftain Gongdian arranged for Su Ziqi and her companions to lodge upon the second level of the tree hollow.

　　Gongkong accompanied them up the stairway. NightBright Flowers already lined the walls of the upper stairs, filling the space with light.

　　Gongkong explained: “This great hall is used by our clan only for sacrificial rites. The rooms above the second level stand empty; they have been prepared especially for our celestial gods. Only celestial gods may lodge here.”

　　“We are not celestial gods. To lodge us here is surely too great an honor. Moreover, just now Chieftain of the Tiger Tribe said the celestial gods can never be resurrected. What did he mean? Have your Yellow Clan Celestial Gods already died?” Su Ziqi asked.

　　“This… this… the hour is late. When opportunity permits I shall explain further to the celestial gods.”

　　Wang Yue observed that while answering Gongkong pressed his lips tightly together; in the darkness his lowered hands clenched into fists that emitted soft cracking sounds.

　　The second level contained more than a dozen rooms, the height from floor to ceiling fully four or five meters. Each of the five was assigned a separate chamber—spacious, fully furnished, and illuminated by NightBright Flowers.

　　Dong Yifeng, having drunk to excess, retired early. Su Ziqi, though she had also drunk a great deal, felt no immediate desire for sleep and invited Zheng Ya and Wang Yue to walk downstairs for a short while.

　　The three women, each holding a NightBright Flower, descended, passed through the great door, and stepped outside.

　　Life’s experiences are truly unpredictable. Two weeks earlier they had still been packing upon Earth in preparation for the Martian expedition, living within a highly advanced terrestrial civilization.

　　Now they found themselves upon a planet that ought never to have existed within the solar system, and were being honored as “celestial gods” by its indigenous people. The contrast was as of another lifetime.

　　If Zheng Ya’s conjecture proved correct, they had traversed into a planet lying between Mars and Venus more than ten thousand years in the past. Where, then, was their homeland—Earth? Were their families, friends, and colleagues still well? Could they ever return to their own era?

　　Under the stimulus of alcohol the three women’s minds grew hazy; everything before their eyes seemed fantastical and unreal. This must be a dream; they longed to awaken and return to their own world.

　　They sat quietly upon a rock on the platform at the summit of the hill. The darkness was not absolute; below the slopes clusters of light could be seen everywhere—the radiance of NightBright Flowers.

　　They gazed foolishly at the sky, searching for the moon, hoping to find even a fragment of hope.

　　Yet reality was cruel: the heavens were filled with stars, but the moon was nowhere to be seen.

　　Su Ziqi pinched her own arm. “It hurts! How I wish this were a dream!” she cried toward the night sky.

　　The faint starlight was insufficient to tear away the curtain that covered the heavens; the night was far darker than the moonlit nights they knew upon Earth.

　　The absence of the moon finally convinced them that this was not Earth, that none of it was a dream, but stark and undeniable reality.

　　Where, then, was their homeland—Earth? If they were still within the solar system, by process of elimination only one answer remained: the “Ice Star” of which Gongkong spoke might be Earth—yet Earth of a different spatial and temporal dimension.

　　In one quarter of the sky shone a particularly bright star, larger and more luminous than those around it. Was it Ice Star? Was it their Earth?

　　The sound of soft sobbing reached their ears—Su Ziqi was weeping. Her head rested upon Zheng Ya’s shoulder; Zheng Ya stroked her hair and comforted her.

　　In truth the eyes of both Zheng Ya and Wang Yue already brimmed with tears; they too longed to weep.

　　Perhaps their homeland could never be regained. In the deep stillness of the night Su Ziqi had begun, and Zheng Ya and Wang Yue could no longer restrain themselves; they wept softly.

　　Su Ziqi wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes: “Sisters, what are we to do next?”

　　Though Wang Yue’s heart had already wavered, her words remained stubborn: “I still refuse to believe this is real. Tomorrow, once the ship is repaired, we shall fly away from this planet; perhaps we can yet return to our Earth and to our own era.”

　　“Ah—whether we can return to our era I do not know.” Zheng Ya sighed. “If we have truly traversed, the only way to regain our own time is to pass once more through a wormhole; otherwise…”

　　“Otherwise what?” Su Ziqi asked.

　　“Otherwise we shall be forever trapped in the present spacetime.”

　　Silence fell again; the topic made the atmosphere heavy once more.

　　Wang Yue broke it: “If the present spacetime truly lies tens of thousands or even a hundred thousand years in the past, then Earth of that age was indeed in a new ice age, covered by ice and snow—an Ice Star.”

　　Su Ziqi still refused to abandon hope: “Then let us go to Ice Star and confirm whether it is the Earth of remote antiquity.”

　　Zheng Ya spoke a still more disheartening truth: “Ziqi, the geographical features of Earth in remote antiquity must have differed greatly from those of the present. Even if we reach Ice Star, we may still be unable to confirm that it is the ancient Earth.”

　　Hearing Zheng Ya’s words, Su Ziqi felt the night grow still darker, as though ink had been poured across the sky—oppressively black.

　　Wang Yue suddenly said: “Ladies, is there not another possibility? Perhaps Gongkong is lying. We have neither traversed spacetime nor entered a parallel universe; we have merely arrived in an unknown stellar system, and Gongkong has deceived us into believing it is the solar system, inventing Venus and Mars to mislead us.”

　　Zheng Ya pondered: “What purpose would Gongkong have in deceiving us? I find the possibility slight.”

　　“From my observation Gongkong is highly suspicious.” Wang Yue voiced the doubt she had long harbored; she had always felt that Gongkong concealed some secret.

　　“How is he suspicious? I find Gongkong quite good. Without him last time, Uncle Dong would have been in serious trouble,” Su Ziqi asked in puzzlement.

　　“When the members of his clan first saw us, every one of them was startled and fearful—yet he alone remained calm. Moreover, look at that grinning, ruffianly manner of his: do you truly trust his words?

　　“And when Professor Dong was in danger, did you not find it strange? Gongkong claimed to understand the language of beasts, yet we heard him utter no sound whatever. Without any weapon he nevertheless drove the beast away.”

　　Zheng Ya also grew thoughtful: “Wang Yue, hearing you put it thus, I too find him suspicious.”

　　“Whatever the case, tomorrow we must contact Captain Yang Zhiyuan. If the ship can take off normally, we shall leave this planet and return to our homeland—Earth.” In Su Ziqi’s heart the fantasy of returning to Earth still lingered.