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Thread: Flying Dagger, The Flying Dagger Reappears 《飛刀,又見飛刀》 - Gu Long

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    Senior Member whiteskwirl's Avatar
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    Default Flying Dagger, The Flying Dagger Reappears 《飛刀,又見飛刀》 - Gu Long

    Flying Dagger, The Flying Dagger Reappears


    Gu Long

    Table of Contents
    Regarding the Flying Dagger
    Part 1 - The Wanderer's Blood and Tears
    Chapter 1
    Chapter 2
    Chapter 3
    Chapter 4
    Chapter 5
    Part 2 - The Past Nine Years Went Like Smoke
    Chapter 1
    Part 3 - A Battle to Melt the Soul
    Chapter 1
    Part 4 - The Price
    Chapter 1
    Chapter 2
    Part 5 - Moonlight Like Snow, Moonlight Like Blood
    Chapter 1
    Chapter 2
    Chapter 3

    Since there is currently a new TV adaptation, I thought might as well start a translation of the novel. This is the only story in the Dagger Li series not to be translated. Although Gu Long only dictated this while Ding Qing wrote it, I still think it's worth translating.

    Wulin Waishi is still my main project and will be unaffected by this one. This is a secondary project and so updates will be slower.
    Last edited by whiteskwirl; 12-08-16 at 01:02 PM.

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    Senior Member whiteskwirl's Avatar
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    Default Regarding the Flying Dagger



    Dao (knife, dagger, sabre) is not just a weapon, its ranked first among the Eighteen Weapons.

    But in a way it is inferior to the jian (double-edged sword), it lacks the swords elegance, mystery, and romance, and is not as esteemed as the sword.

    A sword sometimes is a gorgeous ornament, at other times is symbol of identity and status.

    The dao is not.

    The sword is graceful, belonging to nobles, the dao rather belongs to the common people.

    The sword is associated with the imperial court, with the deep remote mountains, or among white clouds.

    The dao is closely linked with human existence.

    A person comes into the world and begins by having his umbilical cord cut by scissors (jiandao), and then cannot be rid of dao: they are used to cut vegetables, for farming, to cut cloth, to cut hair, to trim ones beard, to trim ones nails, to cut meat, to gut fish, to cut cigars, to give warning, to flaunt ones strength, to execute criminalsnone of these things can be done without a dao.

    You cant live life without a dao, its as vital to life as rice or water.

    Whats strange is that in peoples mind the dao is far more ruthless, violent, ferocious, savage, and more staunchly fearsome than the sword.


    There are many kinds of dao: broadsword, twin sabres, pudao, monks knife, sawtooth sabre, machete, executioners sabre (ghost-head sabre), goosequill sabre, Five Phoenix Rising Sun Sabre, Fish Scale Golden Sabre.

    The flying dagger is another kind, and though it is seldom written about in the official histories, yet this just adds to its mystery and legend.

    As for whether the push dagger counts as a dao, I cant say.


    Li Xunhuan is a fictional character, and his Little Li Flying Dagger of course is fictional as well.

    Everyone believes there couldnt be a real-life Li Xunhuan in the world, nor could there be such a weapon as the Little Li Flying Dagger.

    Because this character is too chivalrous, always yielding to others, and this weapon is too mysterious and fantastical, already so unrealistic.

    Because the reality people talk about is that of the living modern age, not Li Xunhuans age.

    So whether or not Li Xunhuan and his Little Li Flying Dagger are fictional or not is unimportant, whats important is whether or not this character can live in the hearts of readers and resonate with them, whether or not he can share with the reader grief, happiness, and allow them to laugh together.


    At first no one knew what Li Xunhuan and his flying dagger looked like, but after being put to film, they became more symbolic, more popularized.

    From every viewpoint what is popular is considered common, what is common is far away from literature and art.

    But I always felt there was nothing wrong with popularization in this modern society.

    Its better than hiding alone in your ivory tower crying to yourself.


    Concerning Li Xunhuan and his flying dagger is this novel, Flying Dagger, The Flying Dagger Reappears. Of course it is closely linked to Li Xunhuans story.

    But there are some big differences between them.

    Though these two stories are tales of gratitude and revenge set within the same two generations of Li Xunhuan, yet each completely stands on its own.

    Little Li Flying Daggers story has been told many times on stage and the silver screen, and his story has been told in many novels already, this Flying Dagger story has already been made into a movie, the novel is just now being written.


    This is just like The Eleventh Son, first there was a movie, then there was a novel.

    This circumstance can avoid a lot of unnecessary plotlines and make the story simpler, and give it more twists and turns.

    Because film is an entire production, consuming who knows how many peoples sweat and blood, consuming who knows how much material and financial resources.

    So the frame of mind when writing the novelization to a movie is completely different [than writing a novel from scratch].


    Fortunately, there are two similarities between these two kinds of novels, they both hope to please the reader and arouse sympathy with him.

    I think that is one of my main goals when writing a novel.

    Of course its not my only goal.


    Theres one other thing I must make clear.

    Right now my wrist injury is not yet healed, I cant write a lot at once, so I can only dictate and ask someone else to write it for me.

    This way of writing is something I was never willing to do before.

    Because this way of writing will often overlook a lot of details with regard to language and story, and lacks the personal touch when depicting human nature, sentimental feelings.

    At the very least it wont have that meticulous, indirect sentiment, the deep thoughts and feelings.

    Of course the writing will lack a bit, because the exquisiteness of Chinese writing is as exquisite man of letters sentiment.


    Fortunately, I need not apologize to you because with this way of writing the plot will be more smooth and tight, it wont be clumsy, boring, or longwinded.

    And clumsy, boring, and longwinded is an old shortcoming of mine often seen in my novels.

    February 12, 1981, during convalescence,

    not because of alcoholism. Not under the influence of alcohol.

  3. #3
    Senior Member whiteskwirl's Avatar
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    Default Preface


    In former years during a violent time of vicious turmoil, among the jianghu a flying dagger suddenly appeared, no one knew its form or style, and no one could describe its power and speed.

    In the eyes of men it was already not only a weapon that could quell unrest, but was a symbol of justice and honor. This kind of power of course was the greatest and strongest, invincible.

    Later, after the turmoil had subsided, it disappeared, like the surging waves disappear in a calm, peaceful sea.

    But everyone knew that if another disturbance began within the jianghu, it would appear again, and as before would give people inexhaustible faith and hope.

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    Senior Member whiteskwirl's Avatar
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    Default Prologue



    Duan Bafang was seven foot, nine inches tall (Chinese units of measure), a hard as nails fellow strong as thirteen men, no one in the world could match him.

    Duan Bafang this year was fifty-one years old. At thirty he was already commanding the seven major sects north of the Yangzi River, forty-two camps, and controlled the four major security agency chiefs. His fame and influence flourished, he was unequaled for a time.

    So far he was beyond a doubt one of the most important figures among the jianghu, and there were few whose wugong could compare to his.

    However, last year three days before New Years Eve an extremely strange thing happened to him.

    What it was almost no one would believe.


    Duan Bafang on that day was scared to death by a piece of white paper that contained merely a drawing of a small dagger.


    Three days before New Years Eve, the year quickly approaching its end, the new year just around the corner.

    During that time everyone who was away from home had only one thing on his mind, to return home.

    Duan Bafang was no exception.

    He had just intervened to settle one of the biggest disputed in the jianghu in the last ten years and had received the heartfelt gratitude and praise of the Thirteen major sects of Huaiyang, and had drank the Luzhou wine they had specially prepared for him, he drank no less than six catties.

    He was just exiting Zhenhai Tavern with his friends and retinue when his entire body flushed with heat. From his point of view his life was like a bottomless cup of fine wine just waiting for him to slowly enjoy.

    But then he suddenly died.

    You could say he died under his own knife, as if his life had already completely lost all interest for him.


    For someone like that to end up like he did, who would have thought it.


    Duan Bafang died after receiving a letter. There was no address, nor any signature.

    The letter contained no words at all, only a drawing of a small dagger drawn with an old worn-out brush on a piece of especially large paper. From the drawing no one could make out the style of the dagger nor its form, but everyone could tell it was a dagger.

    The letter was delivered by a down-and-out youth, on the road in the gloomy night, though there was a little faint light, yet no one could make out the persons appearance or face.

    Luckily everyone could tell it was a person.


    He walked out from the gloomiest street, walking very well-behaved.

    Then he very mannerly walked up to Duan Bafang and respectfully handed him the letter with both hands.

    Then Duan Bafangs face changed, as if someone had suddenly jabbed him in the throat with a red-hot iron bar.

    Then everyones face changed, becoming more strangely grotesque than even Duan Bafangs.

    Because everyone saw Duan Bafang suddenly draw a knife and with a well-practiced, fast and nimble motion brutally stabbed the knife into his own belly, as if he were taking out his most hated enemy.

    Who could explain something like this?

    If that incident was inexplicable, then what happened to Duan Bafang next was even more inexplicable, more unbelievable, more unimaginable.


    Duan Bafang died violently in the street three days before New Years Eve, but on the first day of the New Year he was perfectly alive.

    To put it another way, Duan Bafang didnt die three days before New Years Eve, but rather died on the evening of the first day of the New Year.

    A person only has one life, Duan Bafang was a person, how could he die twice?


    Who knew where the youth who delivered the letter had went? Duan Bafang, seven feet, nine inches tall, weighing a hundred-forty-three jin, imposing and strong, already lay in a pool of blood.

    No one could do anything, who could say anything?

    The first to speak was the calm and quick-witted Second Master Tu, one of the Three Gallants of Huaiyang.

    Quick, quick go find a doctor! he said.

    Actually, he already knew finding a doctor was already no use, what they really need right now was a coffin.


    The coffin was sped double-time over land and sea, shipped back to Duan Bafangs hometown, it was already dusk.

    Dusk of the first day of the New Year.

    First day of the New year, mothers hands slick with oil, childrens joyful faces.

    First day of the New Year, new clothes, fresh flowers, wintersweet, fresh fruit, firecrackers, dumplings, foil ingots, New Year money for the children.

    First day of the New Year, wish blessings, happiness, the sound of laughter.

    First day of the New Year was a day of many variations and many festivities, but Bafang Manor received a coffin.

    This coffin, though worth over a thousand taels of silver, after all it was still a coffin.

    At that moment, not having a coffin was absolutely better than having one.


    Bafang Manor was extensive. Large in scope, row upon row of houses, who knew how many buildings and how many storeys.

    Bafang Manos main entrance was two zhang four chi tall, one zhang eight chi wide, red lacquered and adorned with gold rings, stone lions out front.

    The coffin was carried in through this entrance, carried in on long poles by thirty-six hefty men.

    Thirty-six hefty men wearing white hemp mourning clothes, white cloth belts, barefoot in straw sandals, carrying the shiny black-lacquered coffin inside the compound, then slowly backing out. They backtracked a hundred-fifty-six steps before exiting the main gate.

    Then the big gate was immediately shut.

    From the rear compound thirty-six men with quick, short steps ran out, lifted the coffin, and carried it back to the rear compound.

    After the rear compound was another rear compound.

    After the rear compound after the rear compound was another rear compound.

    Within the deepest, final compound, the courtyard was deep, deep and dark like ink.

    Within the inkcolored courtyard only a single lamplight, a single lamplight setting off a sheet of pale white.

    A mourning hall was always like that, always pale white like that.

    Thirty-six hefty men brought the coffin into the mourning hall and placed it before the pale-white widow and children, then they began their retreat, going back with short, quick steps.

    They didnt exit doorway.

    From the hands of the widow and children who looked like they could be blown over by a gust of wind suddenly shot out dozens of light yellow light, and the thirty-six hefty men, hard as lions, all fell down.

    Once they fell they were dead.

    They were dead as soon as their bodies hit the ground, once down they would not ever get up again.


    Duan Bafang had a wife, of course only one wife.

    Duan Bafang had concubines, twenty-nine of them.

    Duan Bafang had sons, forty of them.

    Duan Bafang had daughters, sixteen of them.

    Now in the mourning hall, aside from his wife, concubines, children, all eighty-six of them, there were two other people.

    Those two people seemed to be very, very, very old, like they should have already died many, many, many times already. Their faces were completely devoid of expression.

    Only blade scars, no expressions.

    But every blade scar could be considered a kind of expression, expressions depicting the complicated sorrows from the glint and flash of cold steel, the ardor of love and hate, gratitude and enmity of past events.

    Thousands upon thousands of blade scars, were thousands upon thousands of expressions.

    Thousands upon thousands of expressions became no expression.


    The dark courtyard originally had only a single lamplight, within the mourning hall. Before the bier, on the spirit table.

    Suddenly, a dismal cold breeze blew in and extinguished the lamplight.

    When the lamp was re-lit, the coffin was gone.


    The secret room was constructed from gray stone bricks, gray like the bones of the dead.

    The lamplight was also this color.

    The two old people lifted the coffin and entered, the entrance to the secret room closing automatically behind them. They carefully set the coffin down and quietly looked at it. The blade scars and wrinkles on their faces seemed deeper, as if they had already interweaved to form a desolate and plaintive pattern.

    They quietly stood there and watched for a long time, no one could decipher the patterns of their faces, so no one knew what they were thinking, what they wanted to do.

    They did something that no one would have ever expected.

    Because they suddenly bashed their heads against the stone wall.


    The lamplight flickered like ghost fire.

    The lid of the coffin unexpectedly moved, lightly and slowly, then from within the coffin a hand extended.

    The hand lightly and slowly pushed open the coffin, then Duan Bafang got out and stood up.

    He looked around the secret room, his face revealing a satisfied and complacent smile.

    Because he knew he was now absolutely safe.

    Right now among the jianghu everyone knew he had cut his own throat and died in the street, all the enmity from old enemies when he was alive had disappeared along with his death.

    Now no one would pursue him to seek vengeance, because he was already dead.

    A dead man who was alive and well in the world. Of course this secret couldnt leak out, but every person who knew this secret was now dead, really dead.

    Whose mouth was more reliable than the mouth of a dead man?

    Duan Bafang let out a long sigh and pulled a copper ring on the stone wall, opening another secret door. His face suddenly changed.

    He assumed he would be looking at previously-prepared food, water and wine, clothing, and household utensils.

    But he didnt see any of that.

    He assumed he would never again see someone pursue him to seek vengeance.

    But he did see one.


    His face changed horribly, but his bodily functions didnt change.

    His muscles elasticity and his resourceful wugong was maintained at its peak state, at any time under any circumstance he could pierce the belly of a mosquito with a needle.

    Such a pity that this time his reaction was not quick enough.

    By the time he started moving he already saw the blade flash.

    A flying dagger.

    He knew he had seen the flying dagger that no matter what he did, no matter how he tried to dodge, he could not dodge it.

    So he died.

    A person using his own prepared knife to stab his own stomach, even though blood filled the ground, hes not necessarily really dead.

    A knife can be fitted with a spring mechanism.

    But the one he saw this time was a flying dagger, the flying dagger that never misses.

    So this time he really died.


    As a result, the flying dagger reappeared among the jianghu.

    Last edited by whiteskwirl; 12-08-16 at 10:30 AM.

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    Senior Member Ilovewuxia's Avatar
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    Thank you.

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    Thank you.

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    Senior Member whiteskwirl's Avatar
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    Default Part 1, Chapter 1




    A mountain town.

    This small town in the distant mountains, the distant mountains a thousand li away.


    Li Huai returned, returned to the town.

    The loess sandstorms and the people here he had long since become accustomed to.

    Because he had grown up here. He was a wanderer, he had no roots, his childhood was merely a series of nightmares, but among his nightmares what he could not forget the most was this place.


    A steamed bun shop doesnt necessarily just sell steamed buns, when people started calling him Old Zhang he wasnt even old.

    But he was old now.

    Every day he used his dim weak eyes, watching the sand dust roll through, appearing like the marvels that would always happen at any time along this street that he had lived on for decades.

    A marvel he never would have dreamed of really happened today.


    He saw a travel-worn and weary youth wearing dust-beaten clothes lazily stroll to the entrance of his small steamed bun shop.

    The steamed bun basket was piping hot with white steam, blurring Old Zhangs old eyes.

    He could only tell the youth was a good-looking young man, with a pair of sharp eyes, a very special appearance. Old Zhang had never seen such an appearance, he would dare say the youth had never been to this place before.

    Sir, Old Zhang asked, The stove has not been turned on yet, but the stuffed buns, steamed buns, and pot-stewed dishes are all ready, what would you like to eat, sir?

    I want to eat you.

    The young man spoke each word in a soft, mild voice. These words really shocked Old Zhang.

    You want to eat me? Old Zhang was simply petrified. Why do you want to eat me? Whats so tasty about me?

    Of course youre tasty, the young man said. If I didnt eat you, how could I have survived until now?

    Old Zhang looked at him in shock, then suddenly laughed, laughed loudly, laughed happily.

    So its you, you little bastard! Old Zhang smiled and all the wrinkles on his face folded up. You used to eat me everyday, ate me for many years. I havent seen you in many years, yet you still want to eat me?

    If I dont eat you who will I eat?

    The young man was really extreme, not only his words, but his actions as well.

    He really opened the steamed bun basket on Old Zhangs stall and took out every steamed and stuffed bun and ate every one.

    You really ate them?

    Of course I really ate them.

    Old Zhang laughed, Do you remember your eleventh birthday, when you snuck in here late at night and ate how many stuffed buns? I never would have guessed today you would eat even more.

    Ive been practicing.

    This young mans smile seemed to become somewhat pained, A person who has been starving for six months cant practice much else, but he can always practice this.

    Go ahead and eat! Old Zhang sighed willfully. Go ahead and eat, anyway Im already used to you eating.

    Youre of course also used to not receiving my money.

    Since youre already in the habit of not giving it, of course I must be in the habit of not receiving it. Old Zhang forced a smile, Anyway I I couldnt take any.


    But Old Zhangs tone was a bit different from how he usually said it.

    Because he suddenly saw something he rarely saw.

    In the street where sand dust rolled there were suddenly four round faces, round eyes, round hairbunned children, wearing big red round gowns, with glistening yellow gold rings around their necks, on their wrists a pair of shiny jade bracelets, and gold hoop earrings. They carried round plates in their round, white, plump little hands, and on the round plates was piled countless round gold ingots. With round smiles and round dimples that walked toward the steamed bun shop.

    Old Zhang was stunned.

    He had never seen such people in these parts.

    But the round little kids didnt just walk over to the shop, but carried the four plates of gold ingots to the front of the shop.

    Old Zhang looked at the pile of round gold ingots on the plates and his eyes were also round.

    Whats all this? he asked the young man. Dont tell me these ingots were sent here by you?

    Ingots? What ingots? Where are there ingots? I dont see a single ingot!

    Then what do you see? Old Zhang stared intensely at the feigning-ignorant young man. If what you see arent ingots then what are they?

    I only see steamed buns, the young man said. Its just a shame the steamed buns you gave me saved my life, while the steamed buns Im giving you cant be eaten.

    I understand what you mean.

    Old Zhang sighed for real this time.

    You want to repay me. You once said you would repay me a hundred, no a thousand times over, Old Zhang said. I believed there would come a day when you would be able to do it, but now I somewhat cant believe it.


    Because I cant believe a young kid like you in just these few short years could amass a wealth such as this.

    The young man was handsome, but his whole face was also dusty and weary, his clothes were plain and simple, but this young man who spent money like water suddenly revealed a very mysterious smile.

    You dont believe? he said. To tell you the truth, not only do you not believe it, but even I actually dont believe it.

    Old Zhangs face was covered with wrinkles, which suddenly revealed a mysterious expression, he intentionally lowered his voice, Ive heard recently a lone robber has appeared among the jianghu whose martial arts is very strong, who is very brave, who even dares to steal the official silver from the imperial palace.


    You havent heard of this person?


    But his disposition is about like yours, and I know since you were little you have always had courage.

    Old Zhang looked at him, his dim-sighted eyes brimming with a cunning smile.

    If I were a great bandit being pursued by the government I would also hide out here, Old Zhang said. Who could find you hiding out in a place like this where chickens dont fly, dogs dont jump, and rabbits dont pee.

    The young man laughed, Isnt that really the truth.


    When the young girl appeared was when the young mans smile was at its most charming.

    In all fairness, the young mans smile was really a bit naughty, especially when looking at a young girl.

    She was angry.

    Though she wasnt riding a horse, her hand still held a horse whip. It looked like she didnt use it to whip horses but to lash people.

    She pointed the whip at the young mans nose and asked Old Zhang, Who is this person?

    Old Zhang didnt say because the young man had already cut him off, Who this person is, theres probably no one in the world who knows better than me. He caught the tip of the whip between two fingers, and used the tip to point at his own nose. My surname is Li, given name Huai. (his name, Huai, means bad, spoiled, evil, etc.)


    Youre bad? The young girl almost couldnt help from laughing, Even you know youre bad!

    A person named Li Huai is not necessarily a bad person, Li Huai said seriously.

    The girl seemed even more curious.

    Your name is really Li Huai?

    Really, of course it is, he said. I also have another four-character name.

    A four-character name? The girl looked at him in surprise with her big eyes. What is your four-character name?

    Li Huai Is Dead. [Translators Note: 李壞死了 is the name. 壞死 could be Huai, his name, is dead. But 壞死 can also mean extremely bad, so theres a double meaning here.]

    The girl laughed.

    Li Huai, you really are very bad.


    Her laugh was so so cute.

    If Li Huai was the cutest laugher among men, then this girl was definitely the cutest laugher among women.

    Li Huai looked at her crazily, as if he had already been driven to distraction.

    Just then the whip in the girls hand suddenly snapped, like a snake, and wrapped around Li Huais neck.

    Her other hand slapped him twice in the face, then gave him a leg sweep.

    And so our dandy from the Li family who had just returned after coming into some money ended up looking like a weakling, falling face-up, hitting the loess-covered street, his mouth stuffed with a large steamed bun.


    Old Zhang saw Li Huai covered in dust and laughed straightaway.

    Youre not that lone robber. Old Zhang smiled crookedly, Theres no lone robber on earth as useless as you, to be manhandled like that by a girl, knocked flat.

    That girl is really mean. I didnt provoke her, I didnt offend her, why did she do me like that?

    Who says you didnt offend her? Dont tell me you really forgot who she is Old Zhang started laughing deviously, Dont tell me you forgot about the girl who wore flowered dresses who you liked to take the opportunity to put her face in the mud.

    Li Huai was shocked.

    Was that really Keke?

    Thats her.

    Li Huai smiled bitterly, I didnt foresee that she would still hate me.

    Old Zhang laughed cheerfully, Of course you didnt foresee she would become as pretty as she is now.


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    thanks for tling for us.

  9. #9
    Senior Member 徐中銳's Avatar
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    Nouvelle Zlande


    Thanks very much, it'll be great to know, completing...

    Quote Originally Posted by whiteskwirl View Post
    This is the only story in the Dagger Li series not yet translated.
    I know more than I can express in words, and the little I can express would not have been expressed, had I not known more. 弗拉基米爾弗拉基米羅維奇納博科夫

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    More Gu Long goodness! This is great! Thank you so much! (Is there a way to already see thenew series with eng subs?)

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