[Water Margin] Hu Sanniang with her delicate hands - Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Life at Liangshan Marsh was like a stagnant pool, calm on the surface but with strong undercurrents beneath.

Hu Sanniang was housed in a secluded small courtyard in the rear stockade. Fixed provisions were delivered daily by henchmen. Although there was no explicit restriction on her movements, wherever she went, she could always feel vague, lingering gazes. It was euphemistically called protection, but it was, in fact, house arrest. Squire Hu was placed in a different courtyard. Under the care of a physician, his physical health gradually improved, but his spirit was severely crushed. When the father and daughter met, they often lapsed into silence, their thousand words dissolving into sighs.

After several days, Hu Sanniang gained a rough understanding of Liangshan Marsh’s layout. The stronghold centered around the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness, with various stockades at the front, back, left, and right, managed by different leaders. The surrounding marsh was intricate with crisscrossing waterways. Without a guide, it was easy to get lost. She secretly observed and memorized the mountain paths and waterways, knowing well that escaping would be incredibly difficult.

One evening, a messenger from Song Jiang’s personal guard arrived, stating that Brother Song Jiang had arranged a feast in the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness to welcome the newly joined leaders and requested the Third Mistress’s attendance.

What was destined to happen could not be avoided.

Hu Sanniang knew this was no ordinary welcoming banquet. She, her father, and the few captured heads of the Hu Family Manor were likely part of these “new leaders.” This feast was meant to be a gesture of appeasement, a display of Liangshan’s magnanimity, and, more importantly, a means to thoroughly tie them to Liangshan’s war machine, leaving no path for retreat.

She had no choice but to accept.

After a brief wash and change, she still chose her plain blue riding jacket. She wore no makeup, simply tying her dark hair loosely with a silver hairpin. The person in the mirror had cold features, showing no trace of joy, looking instead as if she were attending a feast of ill omen.

Inside the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness, cups were clinking and the noise was deafening. Dozens of tables were set, piled high with chicken, duck, fish, and meat, with wine jars standing everywhere. The leaders were playing drinking games, shouting, and drinking heartily, a scene of rough, bandit-like bravado. When Hu Sanniang appeared at the entrance, the clamor in the hall involuntarily quieted.

Countless eyes focused on her once more. There was curiosity, scrutiny, unconcealed admiration, and then there was the Wang Ying-like gaze, full of a greedy lust that seemed ready to devour her.

Hu Sanniang’s expression remained unchanged. Her eyes calmly swept the hall, seemingly oblivious to the various stares. The guiding henchman led her to a table near the head seats. At this table sat Squire Hu and several other former Hu Family Manor leaders, whose faces were equally unnatural—clearly, they were the “guests of honor” for the day.

“The Third Mistress has arrived, please take a seat quickly,” Song Jiang said with a welcoming smile from the head seat, his tone cordial. “Today, our stronghold gains several heroes, a truly great occasion. Please feel free to relax and drink to your heart’s content.”

Hu Sanniang slightly bowed her head and sat down next to Squire Hu. Her posture was elegant, starkly contrasting with the roughness around her. A wine cup and chopsticks were set before her, but she did not touch them, sitting quietly like a jade statue, separated from the boisterous banquet by an invisible barrier.

After three rounds of wine, the atmosphere grew hotter. Many leaders were flushed with alcohol, their behavior becoming even more uninhibited. Li Kui roared, challenging others to drinking contests; Lu Zhishen rolled up his sleeves, loudly recounting old tales of beating up the Butcher of the West; and Wang Ying’s eyes, in particular, were practically glued to Hu Sanniang. Fueled by the wine, he muttered and chuckled lewdly to his companion, the Dwarf Tiger.

Hu Sanniang lowered her eyes, her slender fingers unconsciously tracing the rim of the cold coarse pottery wine cup. The noise, the smell of alcohol, and those blatant stares in the hall made her feel suffocated. She felt like an outsider, coldly watching this absurd farce that was so closely tied to her own destiny.

She could feel her father trembling slightly beside her—a mixture of humiliation and fear. She could feel the unease hidden beneath the forced smiles of the former Hu Family Manor heads. And within herself, the cold wasteland of her heart continued to expand.

This was the place she now resided. These were the “brothers” with whom she might have to “live and die together” in the future.

A profound sense of sorrow and alienation gripped her.

“Third Mistress,” a voice spoke next to her, carrying a hint of scholarly politeness. Hu Sanniang looked up; it was Wu Yong. He held a wine cup, smiling. “The stronghold is crude, not comparable to the wealth of the Hu Family Manor. Please forgive our poor hospitality. I offer a toast to the Third Mistress. Let us gather for the great cause and pursue our future together.”

His words were eloquent, but his eyes held scrutiny and calculation.

Hu Sanniang picked up the untouched wine cup before her and said coolly: “Master Wu is too kind.” She said no more, simply drinking the spicy liquor in the cup in one go. The wine burned her throat, but it could not warm her cold heart.

Wu Yong smiled and did not press further, turning to socialize with other leaders.

The banquet continued, the noise almost lifting the roof. Yet, Hu Sanniang felt the sounds drifting further and further away. She felt utterly alone, sitting on a solitary island, surrounded by a vast and unsettling darkness.

She suddenly yearned intensely for the fleeting phantom that crossed her mind in her unconsciousness. That vague, feminine, strong, and gentle outline. If “she” were here, “she” would surely not allow her to be subjected to such a repulsive situation, would “she”? “She” would surely understand her solitude and her resolve in this moment, would “she”?

Once this thought took root, it grew like a vine.

She quietly rose, not disturbing anyone, and slipped out of the noisy Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness.

The night wind carried the dampness of the marsh, blowing on her face, bringing a hint of coolness, and also dispersing some of the foul air from the hall. She did not return to the prison-like small courtyard, but walked aimlessly to an isolated rock by the water’s edge.

The distant lights and noise of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness were vaguely discernible, only accentuating the quiet chill of this spot. Sparse stars dotted the sky, and the waning moon was like a hook, its clear light spilling onto the ink-dark water, creating broken silver reflections.

From her sleeve, she took out a small, flat white jade flask. This was the only old possession she had carried out of the Hu Family Manor, personally tucked away. It contained the manor’s last stock of lightly flavored plum wine. Originally, it was meant for a small drink with her father or a light taste during the New Year.

Pulling out the stopper, a clear, slightly sour aroma of wine escaped, utterly different from the potent liquor of Liangshan. She slowly took a sip, facing the cold moon and lonely stars. The wine was mellow, carrying the taste of home from her memory, yet it only stirred a deeper sense of melancholy and powerlessness.

The moonlight reflected off the jade flask, illuminating her cold profile. In this moment, she was no longer the woman warrior covered in bl00d on the battlefield, nor the cold prisoner facing a host of fierce men. She was simply a woman who had lost her home, whose future was uncertain, and whose heart was filled with weariness and vulnerability that she could share with no one.

The jade hands that held the sabers as steady as rock were now clasping the small jade flask, her fingertips trembling slightly.

“A toast… to the ‘you’ who is God knows where…” she murmured to the void, towards the north, in a voice only she could hear. “If you knew there was a woman like me trapped in a lonely fortress in this world, would you… find it laughable?”

There was no answer. Only the gentle lapping of the water against the rocks, like a sigh.

She knew this might just be self-comfort in despair. But so what? In this place surrounded by wolves and tigers, she had to guard the last shred of clarity in her heart, and the softness that she would only show to someone who understood.

Draining the remaining wine in the flask, Hu Sanniang put the jade flask away and straightened her back once more. The vulnerability on her face swiftly disappeared like a watermark, replaced by her customary coldness.

She turned and walked towards the brightly lit Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness, filled with desire and calculation.

The banquet was not over; the play was still ongoing.

And she, could not be absent.