I was the only foreigner who had ever been to the village of Bu She, a small fishing community on the tropical coast of Taiwan. My job was teaching English, but I had slowly become an important member of the community. I was asked to arbitrate in the case of disputes between the fishermen, and I was the honored guest at festivals and feasts, where whole pigs were slaughtered and slow roasted in my honor. An ancient bearded man, wearing a traditional Chinese suit, walked slowly around the village, leaning on his gnarled walking stick. He was Master Mei Yo Le who was the keeper of the lost Taiwanese Kung Fu style of Jia De. After my first contract, he had accepted me as his student, and during my years in the village we had grown very close. Good masters know when they will die. And in preparation of the master making his way to the golden palace of heaven, he had asked me to become the new master, passing on the art to the Taiwanese children. He had also asked me to marry his beautiful niece.
And then I woke up.
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