[Water Margin] Hu Sanniang with her delicate hands - Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The implementation of the new rules at the training ground did not go smoothly.

Although Instructor Chén had outwardly agreed due to Hù Sānniáng’s authority, he harbored a degree of perfunctoriness. The manor guards, who had been drilling for most of their lives, felt that this “offensive and defensive drill” was utterly superfluous—a pointless exercise. The side impersonating the bandits felt constrained, unable to launch a proper attack; the defending side found it troublesome and responded carelessly. After several days, the sessions were characterized more by chaos than effectiveness, drawing complaints instead.

On this particular day of drills, Shí Yǒng was assigned to the “bandit” side. Relying on his sheer strength, he rushed towards the village gate model, shouting, wielding a cloth-wrapped wooden club without any regard for tactics, and was easily checked by a few “defending” guards with wooden forks, stumbling backward.

“Damn it! What good is this worthless drill!” Shí Yǒng, covered in dirt, his face flushed purple with shame, flung the wooden club to the ground and roared, “Let’s just fight with real weapons! Why do we have to play-act like women embroidering!”

The remark was a veiled insult, and the field instantly fell silent. All eyes secretly glanced at Hù Sānniáng, who was standing at the edge of the ground with her hands clasped behind her back.

Today, she was not wearing a skirt, but a sharp, practical azure riding jacket with tight sleeves, her hair tied up high with a silver hairpin, which accentuated her long neck and upright posture like a pine tree. Facing Shí Yǒng’s open provocation, she showed no anger, only stating calmly, “So, you believe that on a battlefield, brute force alone guarantees victory?”

Shí Yǒng jutted out his neck: “It’s better than this fooling around!”

“Good,” Hù Sānniáng nodded, her voice low but clearly audible across the field. “Then I will have a ‘real fight’ with you once.”

As she spoke, she walked leisurely toward the weapon rack, but instead of taking her customary Sun and Moon Dual Sabers, she picked up a training spear made of white waxwood, its tip similarly wrapped in thick cloth. She casually twirled the spear, then pointed it at Shí Yǒng: “You, attack with all your might. If you can touch the edge of my clothes, you win, and from now on, the drills at the training ground will be entirely at your discretion.”

This declaration caused an uproar. Shí Yǒng was the village’s renowned strongman, with solid unarmed combat skills. Although the Mistress’s martial arts were high, she was, after all, a woman, naturally disadvantaged in strength. How dare she be so arrogant?

Shí Yǒng was stunned for a moment, then anger at being underestimated surged in his eyes. He let out a low growl: “Mistress Sānniáng, be careful!” and rushed forward like a wild ox, his fist, the size of a bowl, whistled through the air, heading straight for Hù Sānniáng’s face.

Hù Sānniáng did not meet the blow directly. She shifted her footwork, her figure as nimble as a willow in the wind, gracefully evading the punch. Shí Yǒng’s strike missed. He changed his punch to a palm and slashed horizontally at her neck. Hù Sānniáng arched her back, almost parallel to the ground, but the spear in her hand shot out like a poisonous snake leaving its hole, silently aiming for the opening in Shí Yǒng’s ribcage.

Shí Yǒng was greatly alarmed and hastily moved to defend, but Hù Sānniáng’s spear tip had already retracted, as if it had never moved. Her footwork was fluid, circling around Shí Yǒng, the spear jabbing, stabbing, or sweeping, always targeting a spot he was forced to defend, its angles exceptionally tricky. Shí Yǒng possessed immense strength but was like a bear swatting at a hummingbird, unable to even brush her clothes. Instead, he was repeatedly struck on his arms and shoulder blades by the elusive spear shaft, the blows not fatal but leaving him tingling with aches.

In just over ten exchanges, Shí Yǒng was panting and full of openings. Hù Sānniáng seized an opportunity, the spear shaft flashing out like lightning, lightly tripping his ankle. Shí Yǒng lost his footing and fell to the ground with a “thump,” even more disheveled than before.

The entire field was silent.

Everyone clearly saw that the Mistress had not used her full strength, moving with an air of leisurely grace, yet she had toyed with the strongest man in the village. Her exquisite footwork, precise timing, and the clever technique of deflecting heavy force with minimal effort were far beyond the crude skills they practiced daily.

Hù Sānniáng retrieved her spear and stood straight, her breathing steady. Her gaze swept over every astonished guard: “Does anyone still think this ‘playing around’ is useless? It is true that on the battlefield, the strong often win. But if you are not as strong as your enemy, must you simply offer your neck for the slaughter? Wit, skill, and adaptability are sometimes more important than brute force. If my spear tip were iron today, he would have died three times.”

Her voice was cool, but every word hammered into the hearts of the men: “I ask you to drill, not to fool around, but to give yourselves a better chance of survival when a bandit’s knife comes at you! It is so that the parents, wives, and children behind you will shed one less drop of bl00d for every drop of sweat you shed today!”

Shí Yǒng lay on the ground, his face pale as ash. After a long pause, he struggled to his feet, bowed deeply to Hù Sānniáng, and said hoarsely, “Mistress Sānniáng… I was shortsighted! I… accept defeat!”

Instructor Chén’s face burned with shame. Any trace of contempt was gone. He stepped forward, cupped his fist and bowed: “Mistress Sānniáng’s martial skill is superb, and her insight is extraordinary. Chén… is completely convinced! From now on, the drills will proceed according to Mistress Sānniáng’s instructions!”

After this incident, the atmosphere at the training ground became serious. The guards no longer dared to be slack and regarded Hù Sānniáng with increased awe. Though the offensive and defensive drills were still awkward, they were conducted with greater seriousness and thoughtfulness.

News of her establishing authority at the training ground naturally reached Hù Tàigōng. Upon hearing that his daughter had actually fought with a guard, he was initially displeased, feeling it was undignified, but the result left him surprised and with a hint of worry. His daughter’s recent change was truly significant.

That afternoon, Hù Sānniáng was in her room, outlining the layout of traps against a map, when Qiū Yàn walked in, carrying a brocade box, her expression somewhat strange.

“Mistress, Young Master Biāo from the Zhù Family Village sent this.”

Hù Sānniáng didn’t lift her head: “What is it?”

“It’s… several bolts of fine silk from Suzhou and Hangzhou, and a pair of pure gold filigree bracelets,” Qiū Yàn whispered. “The messenger said Young Master Biāo is grateful for Mistress speaking in favor of the Three Villages Alliance to the Master a few days ago, and sends these modest gifts as thanks.”

Hù Sānniáng’s hand paused on the brush. Speaking in favor of the alliance? She had merely stated the pros and cons; she had never spoken for Zhù Biāo. This wastrel was clearly taking the opportunity to test the waters, or perhaps harboring other intentions.

She sneered inwardly but didn’t show it: “I see. Put them in the storage room.”

Qiū Yàn hesitated, then added: “Mistress… won’t you take a look? The colors of the silk are beautiful, they would suit you…”

“No need,” Hù Sānniáng interrupted her, her tone indifferent. “Tell the messenger that I appreciate Young Master Biāo’s kindness. However, the village is currently facing troubled times, and both Father and I have no interest in such extravagant items. Ask Young Master Biāo to take them back.”

She had to nip any potential misunderstanding from Zhù Biāo in the bud. The silk and gold bracelets, seemingly goodwill, were arsenic wrapped in honey. Even a small touch would lead to endless trouble.

Qiū Yàn acknowledged and withdrew. Hù Sānniáng, however, could no longer concentrate on the map. Zhù Biāo’s actions reminded her of another crisis—the deceit and maneuvering within the Three Villages Alliance.

She walked over to her dressing table. The bronze mirror reflected her delicate yet stern face. She reached up and slowly pulled out the silver hairpin in her hair, and her raven-black hair cascaded down. The person in the mirror had lost the tender softness of a young girl, gaining the sharpness of a commander.

She picked up the scissors on the dressing table. The cold touch made her fingertips tremble slightly. Without hesitation, she grabbed a lock of hair near her temple. The scissors closed, and a wisp of dark hair silently floated down. Her technique was very clever; she only trimmed the longer, inconvenient strands. From the front, her hairstyle still resembled that of an unmarried woman, but her sideburns and the hair behind her ears were now neat and clean, without any strand that could interfere with her gripping a weapon or swinging a saber.

The cutting of her hair was a severing of unnecessary softness and entanglement.

She looked at her increasingly neat and sharp reflection in the mirror, her eyes as keen as blades. Zhù Biāo’s entanglement, Liangshan’s threat, the family’s fate… all hung over her like a sword.

She had to be faster, more cautious.

In the days that followed, Hù Sānniáng became even busier. Using the pretext of “drill requirements,” she utilized a portion of her personal wealth to secretly purchase a batch of iron caltrops, wooden deer antlers, and ropes and nails needed for traps. She personally selected over ten sharp and reliable guards, whom she led herself, keeping them away from prying eyes, to sneak into the dense forest outside the village at night to secretly set up the first line of warning and obstruction.

She meticulously considered the position of every trap; she personally confirmed the line of sight of every hidden sentry. Under the moonlight, those jade hands, which should have been applying makeup, were now stained with dirt and marked with new red scratches, yet she paid no mind.

She knew that these preparations might still be insignificant when the real storm arrived.

But this was the only resistance she could mount.

In the dead of night, she would occasionally stand by the window, gazing at the pitch-black northern sky. That was the direction of Liangshan, and also… the direction of the princess named Dálǐbèi, whose existence she was currently unaware of in this rewritten fate.

The threads of destiny were quietly being woven in the unseen shadows.

She clenched her fist, feeling the slight calluses forming on her palm from the continuous labor.

The storm was coming. She had cut her hair, hidden the softness of her jade hands, and was waiting for the frosty blade to be drawn, to fight for that sliver of hope.