[Water Margin] Hu Sanniang with her delicate hands - Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
The disturbance on the training ground, like a stone thrown into the deep pool of Liangshan Marsh, created ripples that expanded and lasted for some time. Hu Sanniang’s impressive rescue and the undisguised appreciation from the Liao Princess, Dǎlǐbō, once again made her the focus of many eyes.
That night, Song Jiang hosted another banquet in the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness, first to celebrate the success of the military drill (despite a small mishap), and second, to entertain the faraway Liao envoys, especially the noble Princess Tianshou, Dǎlǐbō.
The scale of the banquet was grander than the previous one, and the atmosphere was more subtle. The brightly lit hall was filled with the scent of wine and meat, mixed with an invisible tension concerning the future direction of the events.
Hu Sanniang was again seated near the head of the table, sharing a seat with Squire Hu. She could feel several gazes fixating on her the moment she entered. In addition to Wang Ying’s repulsive stare, there were a few more from the direction of the Liao envoys—Dǎlǐbō had not worn the formal fur of the other Liao envoys, but had changed into a more practical, dark-blue riding outfit adorned with silver ornaments. Her long hair was still braided and tied behind her head. She stood out remarkably among the rough Liangshan leaders and the reserved Liao male envoys. Her light brown eyes occasionally swept the hall with scrutiny and curiosity, eventually falling, subtly or overtly, on Hu Sanniang.
That gaze was frank, direct, and carried the scrutiny of a superior, yet strangely held no malice. Instead, it was like admiring a rare weapon or a hard-to-tame spirited horse.
Hu Sanniang lowered her eyes, concentrating on the cup in front of her, as if the coarse pottery’s texture was the most research-worthy thing in the world. She did not want to meet that gaze; it reminded her of the inexplicable flutter in her heart earlier that day.
The atmosphere of the feast gradually intensified amidst the mutual toasting and guarded probes between Song Jiang, Wu Yong, and the chief Liao official, a man named Xiāo Dálài. Both sides were testing the other’s bottom line and sincerity. The undercurrents revolved around the Song-Liao situation and the positioning of Liangshan.
As wine cups crossed, many of the leaders were already deep in their cups. Wang Ying was particularly flushed with grease and drink, his drunken eyes virtually glued to Hu Sanniang. Fueled by alcohol, he muttered to Yan Shun, Zheng Tianshou, and others next to him. His voice was low, yet loud enough for the nearby tables to hear:
“…Hehe, a woman this beautiful and spicy is the only one who tastes good! Much better than those courtesans in the brothels… Since Brother Song agreed to discuss it later, he can’t leave me hanging forever… When I perform a great feat, I’ll definitely ask Brother to preside over the marriage…”
The foul language, mixed with lewd snickers, hissed into Hu Sanniang’s ears like a venomous snake. The knuckles of her hands clutching her chopsticks turned slightly white. A wave of murderous intent and nausea surged in her chest, but her face remained as calm as ice. She knew she could not react here, now.
However, Squire Hu beside her was trembling all over, his face deathly pale, barely able to hold his wine cup.
Just then, a clear, cold voice with a unique rhythm spoke, not loudly, yet distinctly overriding the din:
“Leader Song.”
Everyone looked over and saw Dǎlǐbō sitting upright in her seat, playing with an exquisite silver knife inlaid with gemstones—her carving knife for the roast mutton. She was not looking in Wang Ying’s direction, her gaze fixed on Song Jiang, a faint, almost arrogant smile playing on her lips.
“I have long heard that the heroes of Liangshan gather for righteousness, acting on Heaven’s behalf, and are most concerned with heroic spirit and brotherhood,” her speech was unhurried, every word clearly articulated. “But I wonder, how is the word ‘hero’ defined at Liangshan? Does someone who only hides behind others, discusses women with foul language, and relies on a quick tongue… also count as a hero?”
Her words did not name anyone but pointedly glanced at Wang Ying’s table. The sarcasm and contempt were undisguised.
The entire hall instantly fell silent!
The laughter at Wang Ying’s table abruptly stopped, their faces turning extremely ugly. Wang Ying himself turned crimson, wanting to explode, but was tightly restrained by the still-sane Yan Shun beside him. His opponent was a Liao Princess, a noble figure whom Liangshan was currently striving to befriend. How could a mere leader be allowed to act recklessly?
Song Jiang’s face also slightly changed. He immediately managed a forced laugh to smooth things over: “The Princess is joking. My brothers at Liangshan are all straightforward men. Sometimes, after drinking too much, they might misspeak. No offense intended, no offense intended.” He shot a warning glare at Wang Ying.
Dǎlǐbō, however, did not respond. She merely twirled the silver knife flexibly between her fingers. The blade traced a cold arc under the candlelight before she casually stuck it back into the roast leg of lamb in front of her, as if it were an afterthought. She then turned and whispered a few words to Xiāo Dálài in Khitan, no longer looking in that direction, as if she had just casually asked an irrelevant question.
Nevertheless, that subtly spoken question, along with the casual handling of the sharp weapon, was like a silent slap, hitting Wang Ying and his companions hard, and planting a seed in the minds of all the Liangshan leaders.
This Liao Princess was not just a sightseer. She was sharp, direct, and… seemed to take issue with certain things.
Hu Sanniang’s lowered eyelids trembled slightly. She had not expected that the one to stop the foul language would be this foreign princess, whom she had only just met. Was it not out of sympathy, but out of an almost puritanical selectivity about the definition of “hero”? Or… something else?
She could not describe the feeling in her heart. There was a sense of vindication, surprise, and a subtle tremor that she herself was unwilling to acknowledge.
The second half of the banquet proceeded in a slightly strange atmosphere. Wang Ying’s table had completely quieted down, drinking in sullen silence. Other leaders spoke with much more caution. Dǎlǐbō, on the other hand, resumed her previous demeanor, occasionally conversing with Song Jiang and Wu Yong, her gaze still inadvertently sweeping toward Hu Sanniang.
When the feast finally ended, everyone departed. Hu Sanniang helped the agitated Squire Hu on the way back to their quarters. The night was deep, and the lights of Liangshan Marsh faded behind them.
“Sanniang…” Squire Hu’s voice was trembling. “That Liao Princess… why did she…”
“Father, please don’t overthink it,” Hu Sanniang gently interrupted, her voice calm. “Perhaps, she simply disapproved.”
After settling her father in his courtyard, Hu Sanniang walked alone toward her small yard. The moonlight was cold, casting her solitary shadow long on the ground. As she reached the courtyard gate, she paused.
In the shadows beside the gate stood a tall figure—Dǎlǐbō. She seemed to have been waiting there for a moment, carrying the slight chill of the night wind.
“Hu Sanniang.” Dǎlǐbō spoke, her voice particularly clear in the quiet night.
Hu Sanniang’s heart tightened slightly, but she showed no reaction: “Does Your Highness have any instructions?”
Dǎlǐbō took two steps forward. The moonlight illuminated her spirited face and those light brown eyes, which were now intensely focused. She didn’t answer. Instead, she extended her hand, her palm holding a small, white jade, gourd-shaped wine flask. It was strikingly similar to the one Hu Sanniang had used while drinking alone that day, but more exquisite in craftsmanship and smoother in texture.
“This jade flask is something I always carry. It comes from the Western Regions and preserves the wine’s purity,” Dǎlǐbō handed the flask over, her movement natural, as if it were a matter of course. “I see you don’t seem to like Liangshan’s strong liquor. Take this. It’s for you.”
Hu Sanniang was stunned. She had completely unexpected the other woman to be waiting here, and even less expected such a… gift.
“I appreciate your kindness, Princess. But such a valuable item, I dare not accept.” She instinctively refused.
Dǎlǐbō, however, thrust the jade flask into her hand without question. Her fingertips inadvertently brushed Hu Sanniang’s wrist, carrying a coolness unique to the north, yet making Hu Sanniang feel a strange heat.
“Good things should be paired with those who can appreciate them,” Dǎlǐbō looked at her, her gaze deep, a meaningful smile playing on her lips. “Your skill in saving people earlier today reminds me of the women who tame wild horses on our grasslands. You look slender, but a storm is hidden in your bones. This Liangshan… ha, it is not worthy of you.”
With that, without waiting for Hu Sanniang’s response, she turned and left. Her dark blue figure quickly merged into the night and disappeared in the direction of the courtyard where the Liao envoys were lodged, not far away.
Hu Sanniang stood alone under the moonlight, holding the jade flask that still carried the other woman’s warmth, coldness and heat interwoven. The delicate feel of the flask seemed to still retain the strength of that person’s fingertips.
She looked down at the jade flask in her palm, then up towards the direction Dǎlǐbō had disappeared, her heart in turmoil.
What was this? Sympathy? Appreciation? Or… a kind of closeness that she couldn’t comprehend but instinctively felt a strange throb about?
Why did the luminous pearl from the North Country choose to shine its light solely upon her already frozen, solitary figure?
The night wind blew, carrying the blurred outline of distant mountains and the humid scent of the marsh.
Hu Sanniang tightened her grip on the jade flask. For the first time, she felt that the night at Liangshan Marsh was perhaps no longer so cold and suffocating.