On the way back, Han Li ran into few people. A senior brother or two glanced at him with some surprise as he limped past, but none of them said a word to him—no one, it seemed, paid much attention to their junior disciple.
By the time he reached his lodgings, the pain in his foot had grown worse. Han Li hurriedly sat down on the edge of his bed, slipped off shoe and sock with care, and examined the injury.
It was swollen something fierce! The big toe of his right foot had puffed up into a high, rounded lump, and the skin over the wounded spot had stretched taut, flushed bright and shiny—just like a big red chili pepper.
Han Li reached hastily for the wooden pillow at the head of his bed and pulled a small medicine bottle out from under it. This was Doctor Mo's carefully prepared wound medicine, wonderfully effective against bruising, swellings, and even bleeding. Han Li had wheedled quite a hard time to beg it off Doctor Mo, planning to keep it in reserve for the external injuries Zhang Tie was sure to suffer while training the Elephant-Armor Art. He had never expected to use it upon himself first.
No sooner had the lid come off than a rich, pungent medicinal fragrance filled the whole room. He tipped a little powder gently onto the swollen toe, and a cool, refreshing sensation spread at once through the flesh. Truly, Doctor Mo's secret wound salve lived up to its name—it worked the moment it touched the skin. Doctor Mo's skill at medicine really was beyond compare.
Han Li found a clean cloth, wrapped the injured toe up into a large, bulky bundle, and then carefully put his shoe and sock back on.
Mm. At least the pain had lessened considerably.
He took a few slow, short steps back and forth, quite satisfied with how quickly he had handled the wound.
Now it was time to deal with that mysterious bottle—the very culprit that had done him so much harm.
Han Li drew the bottle out from his bosom, hunted up a rag, and polished it until it gleamed, and only then did the whole of its true appearance come into view.
The bottle was not large; he could close his whole hand around it, and it was a trifle smaller even than his own medicine bottle. Its entire body was a soft, pale green, stamped over with a few markings of dark green in the shape of leaves—lifelike leaf-shaped patterns, so real to the touch that they felt raised, as though actual leaves had been set into the surface.
He weighed it in his hand. It was heavy. Yet plainly it was not made of any metal Han Li knew, nor of any porcelain he recognized either. For when he ran his hand over it, it lacked the cool touch of ordinary metal, and it had none of the smooth, slippery texture of ordinary ceramic.
Han Li examined it closely for a long while before he could be sure the bottle was wrought of some material he had never encountered. This pale green seemed to be a natural color, something inherent to the material itself, not a dye laid on afterward.
His gaze settled on the tightly sealed lid, and Han Li resolved to satisfy his curiosity at once. He would open the bottle on the spot and see whether there was anything inside.
Once again he laid his hand upon the lid, and twisted at it with all his strength.
Once. Twice. Three times... The lid and the body might as well have been cast together as a single piece—they did not move a hair's breadth, and the lid showed not the slightest sign of coming loose.
Han Li was startled. Even when he had first found the bottle, he had been unable to twist the lid off. But back then he had been so preoccupied with his injury that he had not had the stomach to exert himself properly, and had let the matter slip from his mind. He had assumed that now, calling up the full strength of his body, prying it open would be child's play. He had never expected it would still refuse to yield.
Han Li tried again, wrenching at the lid a dozen or more times in a row, until his arm had gone weary and sore—and still there was no success to be had. So he stopped.
He shook out his arm and worked his wrist back and forth; he had strained it a little from gripping so hard just now.
He brought the bottle right up before his eyes and went over it again, inch by inch. What a shame. He could find no hidden mechanism, no secret catch, on it at all.
Now Han Li was truly stuck. If he could not get the lid off, how was he to know whether there was anything inside? And if there was, then a bottle this unusual, sealed so tightly as this, would have to be a thing of immense value and rarity.
Han Li clasped the bottle tight in his hand and studied it, lost in thought for a long while. At last he decided he would have Zhang Tie, who was far stronger than he, see whether he could twist the lid loose. For by now Zhang Tie, with each hand, could heft a couple of buckets full of water and race up and down the mountain swift as the wind. Every day it was Zhang Tie who kept the valley's great water vats filled to the brim, right on schedule.
His decision made, Han Li went over to Zhang Tie's room and settled in to wait, hoping in his heart that Zhang Tie would come back soon.
Waiting for a person was a miserable business, and Han Li felt the time dragging by unbearably slow. It seemed an age before he finally heard the creak of Zhang Tie pushing open the door and stepping inside.
The moment he looked up, Han Li saw Zhang Tie come in wearing a thin green cloth shirt, wisps of steam rising faintly from his whole body, drenched in sweat from head to foot. Han Li knew at once that this was the normal state of things after Zhang Tie had finished his training, and thought nothing of it.
Zhang Tie, catching sight of Han Li in his room, was taken aback. But before he could even open his mouth, the impatient Han Li, who had been waiting for ages, thrust the bottle out in front of his face.
"Brother Zhang, do me a favor. Can you get this bottle open for me?"
"And where did you find this? It's a fine-looking thing!" Zhang Tie paused for a moment, then took the bottle.
"Shk! Shk! Shk!"
"Eh! This thing is really tough, a hard nut to crack! What on earth is it made of?" Zhang Tie wasted no words, taking it up in both hands and straining with all his might. But even he could not get the lid open.
"No good, I can't twist it loose. Why don't you go and ask one of the other senior brothers to try?" Zhang Tie shook his head apologetically at Han Li, tossed the bottle back to him, and offered a suggestion besides.
"You can't do it either?" Han Li was getting anxious now, and could not help pacing circles about the room.
"Hey! What happened to your foot?" Only now did Zhang Tie notice that there was something off about the way Han Li walked.
"It's nothing. I just kicked a stone while I was walking." Han Li did not know why, but he did not want to tell Zhang Tie the truth about the bottle. Perhaps it was pure instinct—he had quietly come to treat the business of the bottle as his own private little secret.
Disappointed to the core, Han Li had no heart for idle chatter with Zhang Tie. He asked a couple of polite questions about how Zhang Tie's training was going, then took his leave of the room, meaning to go back and figure out a way to solve the puzzle of the bottle on his own.
Back in his own little hut, Han Li set the bottle upright on the table, then sprawled down along the table's edge. He fixed both eyes on the bottle, dead still, while his mind whirled at a furious pace, casting about for some good idea that might crack this problem open.