Chapter 21: The Procuress Beats Tang Niuer in a Drunken Rage; Song Jiang Kills Yan Poxi in Anger

Chapter 21: The Procuress, Drunk, Beats Tang Niu’er; Song Jiang, in Anger, Kills Yan Poxi

It is told: Song Jiang parted with Liu Tang and, taking advantage of the moonlit streets, strolled leisurely back to his lodging. He happened to meet Old Mrs. Yan, who hurried up to him and called out: “Your Honor, I’ve sent people to invite you many times, but you are so honored and hard to see! Even if that little slut of mine said something out of line and offended you, you should still consider my thin face. I’ll personally teach her to apologize to you. Tonight, the old woman is fortunate to meet you—come along with me for a visit.” Song Jiang said: “Today I’ve been busy with county business and can’t get away. I’ll come another day.” Old Mrs. Yan said: “That won’t do. My daughter is at home waiting for you with all her heart. Your Honor, just go and comfort her a little. How can you be so heartless?” Song Jiang said: “I really am too busy. I’ll definitely come tomorrow.” Old Mrs. Yan said: “I want to take you tonight.” She grabbed Song Jiang’s sleeve and said: “Who has been stirring you up? My mother and daughter’s livelihood for the rest of our lives depends on you, Your Honor. Don’t listen to any gossip from outsiders; make up your own mind. If my daughter has any faults, they all rest with me, the old woman. Your Honor, just go for a visit.” Song Jiang said: “Don’t pester me; I’m tied up with business here.” Old Mrs. Yan said: “Even if you miss some official business, the county magistrate won’t necessarily punish you. If you miss this chance, it’ll be hard to meet again. Your Honor, you simply must go with me, the old woman. Once we get home, there will be words to say.” Song Jiang was a straightforward man, and being pestered by this old woman, he said: “Let go of me; I’ll go.” Old Mrs. Yan said: “Your Honor, don’t run off; an old woman can’t keep up.” Song Jiang said: “How can that be!” The two of them followed each other to the door. Truly:

Wine does not intoxicate; people intoxicate themselves.

Flowers do not bewitch; people bewitch themselves.

If today one can know regret,

Why not have refrained in the first place?

Song Jiang stopped in his tracks. Old Mrs. Yan held out her hand to block him and said: “Your Honor, since you’ve come here, surely you won’t refuse to enter?” Song Jiang went inside and sat down on a stool. That old woman was cunning—as the saying goes: “How could an old procuress escape her own tricks?” Fearing Song Jiang might leave, she squeezed in beside him and sat down, calling out: “My child, your beloved Sanlang is here.” That Yan Poxi was lying on the bed, facing a solitary lamp, with nothing to occupy her mind, waiting only for this little Zhang San to come. When she heard her mother call out “your beloved Sanlang is here,” the woman thought it was Zhang Sanlang. She hurriedly got up, smoothed her cloud-like hair with her hand, and muttered curses: “That short-lived wretch—you’ve made me wait so long! I’ll give you a couple of slaps first!” She flew downstairs, but when she peered through the lattice of the window, the glass lamp in the hall was very bright, and it illuminated Song Jiang. The woman turned around and went back upstairs, lying down on the bed again.

Old Mrs. Yan heard her daughter’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and then heard her going up again. The old woman called out again: “My child, your Sanlang is here. Why have you gone back?” Yan Poxi answered from the bed: “This place isn’t that far; he can come up himself. He’s not blind—why doesn’t he come up on his own, instead of waiting for me to come and greet him? Enough of this nagging.” Old Mrs. Yan said: “This slut—she must be so upset from longing for you, Your Honor, that she’s cross. Saying that, she’ll let you suffer a few words from her.” The old woman laughed and said: “Your Honor, I’ll go upstairs with you.”

When Song Jiang heard those words from the woman, he was already half displeased. Being tugged by the old woman, he reluctantly went upstairs.

It turned out to be a six-raftered building. The front half had a spring table and chairs; the back half was arranged as a bedroom, with a bed carved with openwork on three sides set against the inner wall. On both sides were railings, above which hung a red silk canopy; to the side was a clothes rack with a towel draped over it; on this side was a washbasin; on a gold-lacquered table stood a pewter lamp stand; beside it were two stools; on the wall facing hung a painting of a lady; facing the bed were four armchairs arranged in a row.

When Song Jiang reached the upstairs, Old Mrs. Yan dragged him into the room. Song Jiang sat down on a stool facing the bed. Old Mrs. Yan then dragged her daughter up from the bed and said: “Your Honor is here. My child, it’s just your bad temper—using sharp words to offend him, angering him so he wouldn’t come to our door, yet you miss him at home when you’re idle. Today I’ve barely managed to invite him here, but you won’t get up and say a few words of apology; instead, you throw a tantrum!” Yan Poxi pushed the old woman away with her hand and said: “What’s all this damned fuss you’re making! I haven’t done anything wrong! If he doesn’t come to the door himself, how can I apologize?”

When Song Jiang heard this, he said nothing. The old woman pushed over an armchair next to Song Jiang’s shoulder and then pushed her daughter over, saying: “You sit with Sanlang for a while. If you won’t apologize, fine, but don’t be irritable. You two haven’t seen each other for a long time; say a few affectionate words.” The woman refused to come over and instead sat opposite Song Jiang. Song Jiang hung his head and said nothing. When the old woman looked at her daughter, she had turned her face away. Old Mrs. Yan said: “Without wine and food, how can you hold a ceremony? I, the old woman, have a bottle of good wine here. Let me buy some fruit and snacks to make amends with Your Honor. My child, you keep Your Honor company while sitting here; don’t be shy. I’ll be back soon.” Song Jiang thought to himself: “This old woman has me pinned down; I can’t get away. Once she goes downstairs, I’ll follow and leave.” The old woman saw that Song Jiang seemed intent on leaving. After she went out the door, which had a latch, she pulled the door shut and fastened the latch. Song Jiang thought darkly: “That old procuress has outsmarted me.”

Let’s talk about Old Mrs. Yan as she went downstairs. She first lit a lamp by the stove, where there was already a pot of foot-washing water boiling. She added some more firewood, took some small silver coins, and went out of the alley to buy some seasonal fruits, fresh fish, tender chicken, and fat pickled meat. Returning home, she arranged everything on plates; she poured the wine into a basin, ladled out half a dipper, heated it in the pot, and poured it into a wine flask. She prepared several dishes of vegetables, three wine cups, three pairs of chopsticks, and carried them all upstairs on a tray, placing them on the spring table. She opened the door, brought everything inside, and set it on the table. When she looked at Song Jiang, he was still hanging his head; when she looked at her daughter, she was staring elsewhere. Old Mrs. Yan said: “My child, get up and pour a cup of wine.” Yan Poxi said: “You two drink yourselves; I’m not in the mood!” The old woman said: “My child, your parents spoiled your temper from childhood, but you can’t act that way with others.” Yan Poxi said: “What if I don’t pour the wine? Is a flying sword going to come and take my head off?” The old woman laughed and said: “Now it’s my fault again. Your Honor is a gallant man; he won’t argue with you. If you won’t pour the wine, fine, but at least turn your face and drink a cup.” Yan Poxi still wouldn’t turn around. The old woman herself poured wine to urge Song Jiang, who reluctantly drank a cup. The old woman laughed and said: “Your Honor, don’t take offense. Put away all the idle talk; I’ll explain slowly tomorrow. Outsiders see you here, and many of them are resentful and restless, spouting nonsense and foul talk—Your Honor, don’t listen to any of it. Just focus on drinking.” She poured three cups on the table and said: “My child, don’t act like a child; just drink a cup.” Yan Poxi said: “Enough pestering me! I’m full; I can’t drink.” Old Mrs. Yan said: “My child, you should at least drink a cup to keep your Sanlang company.”

When Yan Poxi heard this, she thought to herself: “My heart is only with Zhang San; who has the patience to keep this fellow company! If I don’t get him drunk, he’ll certainly pester me.” Yan Poxi had no choice but to reluctantly pick up the wine and take half a sip. The old woman laughed and said: “My child, you’re just irritable. Open your heart and drink a couple of cups, then sleep. Your Honor, drink up a few cups too.” Song Jiang, unable to resist her urging, drank three or five cups in a row. The old woman also drank several cups, then went downstairs again to heat more wine.

The old woman was displeased that her daughter wouldn’t drink, but when she saw her relent and take the wine, she said joyfully, “If we can keep him here tonight, all that resentment will be forgotten. Let’s just drag it out with him a few more days, then we’ll see.” As she mused, she drank three large cups of wine by the stove, felt somewhat tipsy, strained another bowlful, poured most of it into the pot, and climbed upstairs. There she saw Song Jiang with his head down, silent, and her daughter also turned away, fiddling with her skirt. The old woman laughed loudly and said, “You two aren’t made of clay; why won’t you say a word? Clerk, you’re supposed to be a man; you should show a little tenderness, say something flirtatious to have fun.” Song Jiang was at a loss for what to do; he kept his mouth shut, but inside he was in a terrible bind, unable to advance or retreat. Yan Poxi thought to herself, “If you won’t bother with me, don’t expect me to act as usual, come and chat with you, joke with you. I’m not going to do that now.”

The old woman, having drunk a great deal, rambled on endlessly, chattering about this family’s business and that family’s affairs, talking nonsense black and white. There is a poem to witness:

Only keep the patron from leaving the door,

With sweet words and sly talk you bewitch his soul.

How many clever ones have fallen into your snare?

After death, your tongue should be torn out by the root.

Now there was in Yuncheng County a seller of pickled meats, Second Brother Tang, called Tang Niuer. He was always loafing about the streets, a hanger-on, and often received help from Song Jiang. Whenever some official business came up, he would report it to Song Jiang and thus earn a few strings of cash. When Song Jiang needed him, he would go forward with his life. On this particular evening, he had lost at gambling and was at his wit’s end, so he went to the county office to find Song Jiang. He rushed to his lodgings but couldn’t find him. People in the street said, “Second Brother Tang, who are you looking for? Why in such a hurry?” Tang Niuer said, “I’m in a terrible rush; I need to find my patron, but I can’t find him anywhere.” The crowd asked, “Who is your patron?” Tang Niuer said, “It’s Clerk Song of the county office.” The crowd said, “I just saw him and Old Yan passing by, walking together.” Tang Niuer said, “That must be it. That Yan Poxi, that base, treacherous worm, she’s been carrying on hot as fire with that Zhang San, and they only hide it from Clerk Song. He’s probably heard some rumors and hasn’t been there for days. Tonight he must have been tricked into going by that old bitch. I have no money and I’m desperate; I’ll just go there and see if I can get a few strings of cash and scrounge a couple of bowls of wine.” He went straight to Old Yan’s door, saw the lamp burning inside, and the door unbolted. When he reached the stairs, he heard Old Yan laughing heartily upstairs. Tang Niuer crept softly up the stairs, and peeping through a crack in the wall, saw Song Jiang and Poxi both with their heads down, and the old woman sitting at the head of the table, chattering on and on.

Tang Niuer slipped inside, looked at Old Yan, Song Jiang, and Poxi, made three bows, and stood to one side. Song Jiang thought to himself, “This fellow has come at just the right time.” He gave a slight downward jerk of his chin. Tang Niuer was a clever fellow and caught the meaning at once. Looking at Song Jiang, he said, “I looked all over for you, and here you are, drinking and having fun, enjoying yourself peacefully!” Song Jiang said, “Is there some urgent business at the county office?” Tang Niuer said, “Clerk, have you forgotten? It’s about that matter from this morning. The magistrate was furious in the hall and sent four or five groups of runners to your lodgings to find you. They couldn’t find you anywhere, and he was in a great rage. You’d better go at once.” Song Jiang said, “If it’s that urgent, I’ll have to go.” He got up to go downstairs, but the old woman blocked him, saying, “Clerk, don’t play these tricks on me. This Tang Niuer has come to set up a scheme, and you think you can fool me, you cunning devil! This is like ‘Wielding a hatchet before Lu Ban!’ At this hour, the magistrate has gone back to his yamen to drink and amuse himself with his wife; what business could there be to stir him up? These tricks of yours might fool ghosts and spirits, but you can’t get past me.”

Tang Niuer said, “But it’s true, the magistrate is urgently waiting for this business; I’m not lying.”

Old Yan said, “You’re full of dog shit! My eyes are like crystal gourds; I just saw you, Clerk, give him that chin jerk to start his act. Instead of urging him to stay in my house, you’re trying to send him away. As the saying goes, ‘Murder may be forgiven, but such behavior is intolerable.’” The old woman jumped up, grabbed Tang Niuer by the scruff of the neck, and with a shove, sent him staggering, all the way from the room down the stairs. Tang Niuer said, “What are you shoving me for?” The old woman shouted, “Don’t you know that ruining someone’s livelihood is like killing their parents and children? If you raise your voice, I’ll beat you, you thieving beggar!” Tang Niuer stepped forward and said, “Go ahead and hit me!” The old woman, emboldened by wine, spread her five fingers and slapped Tang Niuer twice across the face, then pushed him straight out through the door curtain. She pulled down the curtain, threw it behind the door, shut both doors, bolted them, and kept on cursing.

Tang Niuer, having received those two slaps, stood outside the door and yelled, “You thieving old bitch, don’t be in such a hurry! If it weren’t for Clerk Song’s sake, I’d smash your house to pieces! I’ll get you one day or the next! If I don’t finish you off, my name isn’t Tang!” He beat his chest and went off cursing loudly.

The old woman went back upstairs, looked at Song Jiang, and said, “Clerk, why bother with that beggar? That fellow just goes around cadging drinks and stirring up trouble. A street-corner wretch like him, a dog that dies in the gutter, dares to come to my door and bully people!” Song Jiang was a straightforward man, and being caught out by the old woman’s words, he found himself trapped and unable to withdraw. The old woman said, “Clerk, don’t take offense. I think so highly of you. My girl and you, Clerk, just drink this cup. I imagine you two haven’t seen each other for some time, so you must want to sleep early. Let’s clear things away.” The old woman urged Song Jiang to drink another two cups, then cleared the cups and dishes and went downstairs to the stove.

Upstairs, Song Jiang thought to himself, “That old woman’s daughter and Zhang San have something going on. I half believe it, half doubt it, but I’ve never seen it with my own eyes. If I leave, they’ll say I’m petty. Besides, it’s late. I’d better just sleep for now and see what this woman does, and how she treats me tonight.” Just then, the old woman came upstairs again and said, “It’s late; I’m telling you two to go to bed early.” The woman answered, “It’s none of your business; you go to bed yourself.” The old woman laughed and went downstairs, saying, “Rest well, Clerk. Enjoy yourselves tonight, and sleep in tomorrow.” She went downstairs, cleaned up the stove, washed her hands and feet, blew out the lamp, and went to bed.

Now Song Jiang sat on the stool, hoping the woman would, as before, come and snuggle up to him and apologize, and that he could put up with things a while longer. Who would have imagined that Poxi was thinking, “I only think of Zhang San. He’s ruined everything, and he’s like a thorn in my eye. That fellow actually expects me to come and humor him as before. I’m not going to do it now. I’ve always heard of ‘pushing the boat to the shore,’ but never ‘pushing the shore to the boat.’ If you won’t bother with me, then so much the better!”

Listen, good people, this matter of lust is the most terrible thing. If a person’s heart is set on loving you, then even if you were surrounded by swords, axes, fire, or water, nothing could stop them, and they would fear nothing. But if their heart is not set on you, even if you sat on a pile of gold and silver, they wouldn’t give you a glance. As the saying goes, “If a beauty loves you, a peasant seems handsome; if a beauty is indifferent, a playboy seems a boor.” Song Jiang was a brave and gallant man, but he was not skilled in the arts of dalliance with women. This Yan Poxi, with Zhang San’s little attentions, his complete compliance, his tender pity and careful caresses, his seductive advances and licentious welcome, had so stirred her heart that how could she still care for Song Jiang?

That night, the two of them sat opposite each other under the lamp, neither saying a word, each lost in their own troubled thoughts, as if waiting for the mud to dry before moving the idol into the temple. As they watched, the night grew deep, and the moon shone through the window. What they saw was:

The Silver River gleamed bright, the water-clock marked the slow hours.

The slanting moon cast its cold light through the window,

The cool breeze of the night entered the door.

From the watchtower, the curfew drums, one watch not yet ended, urging on the next;

From another courtyard, the cold washing-stones, a thousand beats nearly done, a thousand more begun.

The iron bells beneath the painted eaves clinked,

Shattering the solitary traveler’s lonely thoughts;

The clear lamp on the silver stand flickered,

Shining on the long sighs of the woman in her chamber.

The lustful courtesan’s heart was like fire;

The righteous hero’s spirit was like a rainbow.

At that moment, Song Jiang sat on the stool looking at that woman, and sighed again. It was about the second watch. The woman, without undressing, went to bed, leaned on her embroidered pillow, turned her body, and faced the inner wall to sleep on her own. Song Jiang watched and thought to himself: "How hateful this slut is, not paying me any mind at all, and she's gone to sleep on her own. Today that old woman kept at me with her talk, coaxed me into a few cups of wine, and I can't hold out any longer; it's late, so I might as well sleep." He took off his headscarf and placed it on the table. He removed his outer garment and draped it over the clothes rack. From his waist he untied the oriole belt, which had a disrobing knife and a document pouch hanging from it, and hung it on the railing at the head of the bed. He took off his silk shoes and clean socks, then went to bed and slept at the woman's feet.

After about half a watch, he heard Poxi chuckling coldly at his feet. Song Jiang was stifled with anger—how could he sleep? As the old saying goes: "Joy makes the night seem short; loneliness makes the hours drag long." By the time it reached the third watch, deep in the night, the wine had worn off. He endured until the fifth watch, then got up, washed his face with cold water from the basin, put on his outer clothes, and donned his headscarf, cursing under his breath: "You slut, you have no manners at all!" Poxi hadn't been asleep either; hearing Song Jiang's curses, she turned around and replied: "You've got no shame in your face." Song Jiang swallowed his anger and went downstairs. Old Woman Yan heard his footsteps and said from her bed: "Registrar, rest a while longer, wait until dawn to leave. What's the point of getting up at the fifth watch for no reason?" Song Jiang didn't answer, just went ahead and opened the door. The old woman added: "When you go out, Registrar, close the door for me." Song Jiang left and closed the door behind him. Swallowing his anger with nowhere to vent it, he headed straight back to his lodgings. But as he passed in front of the county office, he saw a lamp lit; looking closer, it was Old Man Wang, who sold medicinal soups, arriving early at the market.

Seeing it was Song Jiang, the old man hastily said: "Registrar, why are you out so early today?" Song Jiang replied: "It's because I was drunk last night and misheard the watch drum." Old Man Wang said: "Registrar must still be feeling the wine; please have a bowl of sobering two-chen soup." Song Jiang said: "Fine." He sat down on a stool. The old man brewed a strong bowl of two-chen soup and handed it to Song Jiang to drink. Song Jiang drank it, and then suddenly remembered: "I often drink his medicinal soup and never repaid him. In the past, I promised him a coffin, but never gave it to him. I recall yesterday there was that gold sent by Chao Gai; I took one ingot, and it's in my document pouch. Why not give it to this old man for coffin money and make him happy?" So Song Jiang said: "Old Wang, I promised you coffin money some time ago, but I've never given it to you. Today I have some gold here; I'll give it to you. You can take it to Chen Sanlang's shop and buy a coffin to keep at home. When you reach your final years, I'll give you more money for your funeral." Old Man Wang said: "My benefactor always looks after me, and now you grant me the means for my eternal rest. In this life I cannot repay you; in the next life I'll be a donkey or a horse to repay you, Registrar." Song Jiang said: "Don't say that." He lifted the front of his robe to get his document pouch, but was startled and said: "Oh no! Last night I forgot it on that slut's bedside railing. In my moment of anger, I just left in a hurry and didn't tie it around my waist. A few taels of gold are nothing, but there's that letter from Chao Gai wrapped with this gold. I meant to burn it at the tavern in front of Liu Tang, but if he goes back and tells, he'll think I don't take him seriously. I was about to take it to my lodgings to burn it, but that Old Woman Yan pestered me into going with her. Last night I wanted to burn it by the lamp, but I was afraid that slut would see it, so I didn't burn it. This morning I left in a fluster and forgot it. I often see that woman reading songbooks; she knows a few characters. If she gets hold of it, it'll be serious!" He stood up and said: "Elder, don't be offended. I'm not lying—I thought the gold was in the document pouch, but I didn't expect to leave in such a hurry and forget it at home. I'll go fetch it for you." Old Man Wang said: "Don't bother fetching it. Take your time and give it to me tomorrow, no rush." Song Jiang said: "Elder, you don't understand: I have another item I left in the same place, so I have to go get it." Song Jiang, flustered and panicked, rushed back to Old Woman Yan's house. Truly:

Fate decreed the hero's trial would come,

Heaven made him lose the pouch's sum.

Known love and favor all turn to spite,

Who'd think repaying kindness brought such blight!

Now, that Yan Poxi, hearing Song Jiang had left the house, crawled up and muttered to herself: "That scoundrel kept me up all night without sleep. He had the nerve to hope I'd apologize and humble myself. I don't believe you—I'm perfectly fine with Zhang San; who wants to bother with you? It's better if you don't come around!" As she spoke, she spread out the bedding, took off her upper jacket, untied her lower skirt, bared her chest, and removed her inner undershirt. The lamp by the bed was bright, and it shone on a purple oriole belt trailing down from the bedside railing. Poxi saw it and laughed: "That Blackie Three is insatiably greedy—he forgot his oriole belt here. I'll take it and give it to Zhang San to wear." She reached out and lifted it, pulling up the document pouch and the knife, and noticed the pouch felt somewhat heavy. She opened it and shook its contents onto the table, and out tumbled the packet of gold and the letter. This woman picked them up and looked; by the lamplight she saw a gleaming yellow ingot of gold. Poxi laughed and said: "Heaven is letting me and Zhang San buy things to eat. Lately I've seen Zhang San getting thin, and I was just thinking of buying him something to nourish him." She put down the gold, then unfolded the letter to look at it by the lamp. On it was written about Chao Gai and many matters. Poxi said: "Excellent! I always thought 'the bucket fell into the well,' but it turns out 'the well has fallen into the bucket.' I was just wanting to become husband and wife with Zhang San, and the only thing in the way was you, you scoundrel. Today you've fallen into my hands! So you've been colluding with those bandits from Liangshan Marsh, and they gave you a hundred taels of gold. Don't panic yet; I'll slowly toy with you." She wrapped the gold back in the letter as before, and tucked it into the document pouch, saying: "I'm not afraid even if you invite the Five Saints to come and steal it away." She was muttering to herself upstairs when she heard the door creak open downstairs. The old woman asked: "Who is it?" Song Jiang said: "It's me." The old woman said: "I said it was early, but you wouldn't believe me and insisted on leaving. Now you're back early. Sleep a bit more with your wife until dawn." Song Jiang didn't reply, but went straight upstairs.

That woman, hearing it was Song Jiang returning, hastily bundled the oriole belt, knife, and document pouch all together, and hid them inside her bedding. She pressed herself tightly against the inner wall of the bed and pretended to snore, feigning sleep. Song Jiang burst into the room and went straight to the bedside railing to retrieve it, but it was gone. Song Jiang grew anxious inside, and forcing back last night's anger, he reached out and shook the woman, saying: "For the sake of my past kindness, give me back my document pouch." Poxi pretended to be asleep and didn't answer. Song Jiang shook her again and said: "Don't be upset; tomorrow I'll apologize to you." Poxi said: "I'm sleeping right now; who's disturbing me?" Song Jiang said: "You know perfectly well it's me; why pretend otherwise?" Poxi turned around and said: "Blackie Three, what are you saying?" Song Jiang said: "Give me back my document pouch." Poxi said: "Where did you hand it over to me, that you're asking me for it?" Song Jiang said: "I forgot it on the small railing at your feet. No one else has been here; you must have taken it." Poxi said: "Bah! Are you seeing ghosts?" Song Jiang said: "I was wrong last night; tomorrow I'll apologize. Just give it back to me; don't play games." Poxi said: "Who's playing games with you? I didn't take it!" Song Jiang said: "Earlier you didn't undress to sleep, but now you're sleeping under the covers. You must have taken it when you got up to spread the bedding."

Then that Poxi's willow-leaf eyebrows shot up, and her starry eyes widened as she said: "I did take it, but I won't give it back! If you use your influence with the officials, go ahead and have me arrested as a thief." Song Jiang said: "I never accused you of being a thief." Poxi said: "Of course I'm no thief!" Hearing this, Song Jiang grew even more panicked, and said: "I never treated you and your mother badly; give it back to me! I have things to attend to." Poxi said: "Usually you just grumble about me and Zhang San. He may have his faults compared to you, but he doesn't deserve a death sentence, unlike you colluding with bandits." Song Jiang said: "Good sister, don't shout; the neighbors might hear, and that would be no joke."

Poxi said: "If you're afraid of outsiders hearing, then you shouldn't have done it! This letter, I'm keeping it safe. If I'm to spare you, you'll have to agree to three conditions!"

Song Jiang said: "Even if it's thirty conditions, I'll agree to them." Poxi said: "I'm afraid you won't be able to." Song Jiang said: "Whatever can be done, I'll do. May I ask what those three conditions are?"

Yan Poxi said, “First, you must return the original deed for my indentured service to me today, and write a new document allowing me to remarry Zhang San, with a clause that you will not dare to dispute it.” Song Jiang said, “This I grant you.” Poxi said, “Second, everything I wear on my head and body, and everything used in the household, though provided by you, must be covered by a written agreement that you will never demand them back in the future.” Song Jiang said, “This I also grant you.” Yan Poxi continued, “I’m afraid you won’t agree to the third condition.” Song Jiang said, “I’ve already agreed to two; why wouldn’t I agree to this one?” Poxi said, “That hundred taels of gold that Chao Gai of Liangshan Marsh sent you—hurry and give it to me, and I’ll let you off from this first-rate lawsuit, and return the indictment from your document pouch.” Song Jiang said, “The first two I can agree to. As for that hundred taels of gold, he did send it to me, but I refused to accept it and had him take it back. If I truly had it, I’d give it to you with both hands.” Poxi said, “Who knows! As the saying goes, ‘When an officer sees money, it’s like a fly seeing blood.’ When he sent gold to you, how could you have declined and returned it? That talk is nothing but flatulence! Among officers, ‘What cat doesn’t eat fish?’ and ‘Before the King of Hell, no ghost is sent back!’ Who are you trying to fool? Just give me that hundred taels of gold—what’s it worth? If you’re afraid it’s stolen goods, melt it down quickly and give it to me.” Song Jiang said, “You should know I’m an honest man and don’t lie. If you don’t believe me, give me three days. I’ll sell off my property to get a hundred taels of gold for you. Then return my document pouch.” Poxi sneered, “You black-faced three, you’re quite cunning, treating me like a child. I’ll return the document pouch and this letter first, and in three days I’ll ask you for the gold—that’s like ‘after the coffin is out, demanding the mourner’s fee.’ Here, I hand over the goods for the money. You quickly bring both for exchange.” Song Jiang said, “I truly never had that gold.” Poxi said, “Tomorrow in court, you can also say you never had that gold.”

When Song Jiang heard the words “in court,” his anger surged up, and he could no longer contain it. Staring wide-eyed, he said, “Will you give it back or not?”

The woman said, “How fierce you are! I’ll give it back to you right away!”

Song Jiang said, “You truly won’t give it back!” Poxi said, “Won’t give it back! I’ll give you a hundred more ‘won’t give it backs’! If I’m to give it back, I’ll do it in Yuncheng County!”

Song Jiang then reached for the quilt covering Poxi. The woman, having that item by her side, ignored the quilt and held both hands tightly to her chest. When Song Jiang pulled the quilt aside, he saw the phoenix belt buckle hanging down from the woman’s chest. Song Jiang said, “So it was here!” With no turning back, he grabbed for it with both hands. The wench refused to let go. Song Jiang wrestled desperately by the bedside, but Poxi held on for dear life. In a fury, Song Jiang gave a hard yank, and the pressing knife was pulled out onto the mat. Song Jiang snatched it up.

When the wench saw Song Jiang grab the knife, she cried out, “Black-faced Three is murdering someone!” That single cry sparked the thought in Song Jiang’s mind. All the pent-up anger had no outlet. As Poxi cried out a second time, Song Jiang’s left hand pinned her down, and his right hand brought the knife down, slashing across her forehead. Blood spurted out. The woman still shrieked. Fearing she wasn’t dead, Song Jiang struck again, and her head, dangling loosely, fell onto the pillow. Behold:

Where the hand struck, youth perished; where the blade fell, beauty died. The seven ethereal spirits, drifting, had already gone to the Hall of Senluo; the three earthly souls, vague and dim, should return to the City of Wrongful Death. Closed starry eyes, a corpse stiff on the mat; half-open vermilion lips, a head wet on the pillow. All pleasure ceased in that moment—could this charming face still be cherished then?

In a burst of rage, Song Jiang killed Yan Poxi, took the document pouch, pulled out the letter, and burned it by the dying lamp. He fastened the belt, then descended the stairs. The old woman below was asleep and, hearing the couple quarreling, paid it no mind. But when she heard her daughter cry out, “Black-faced Three is murdering someone!” not knowing what had happened, she jumped up in panic, put on her clothes, and rushed upstairs, colliding head-on with Song Jiang. Granny Yan asked, “What are you two making such a fuss about?” Song Jiang said, “Your daughter was too insolent, and I killed her!” The old woman laughed, “What kind of talk is that? Even if the clerk has a fierce look and a bad temper from drinking, and is quick to kill, please don’t jest with me, old woman.” Song Jiang said, “If you don’t believe me, go look in the room. I truly killed her.” The old woman said, “I don’t believe it.” Pushing open the door, she saw the corpse lying in a pool of blood. The old woman said, “Oh, misery! What’s to be done?” Song Jiang said, “I’m a man of honor! I won’t flee for all my life—do as you please.” The old woman said, “That slut was indeed no good. The clerk did right to kill her. It’s just that I have no one to support me now.” Song Jiang said, “That’s no worry. Since you say so, don’t fret. I have considerable means; I’ll see you well-fed and clothed, and you’ll live out your days in comfort.” Granny Yan said, “If that’s so, then it’s good. My deep thanks to the clerk. My daughter lies dead on the bed—how shall we dispose of her?” Song Jiang said, “That’s easy. I’ll go to Chen Sanlang’s house and buy a coffin for you. When the coroner encoffins her, I’ll give him instructions. I’ll also give you ten taels of silver to settle matters.” The old woman thanked him and said, “The clerk had better get a coffin before dawn to contain her, and let none of the neighbors see.” Song Jiang said, “Fine. Get me paper and brush, and I’ll write a note for you to take.” Granny Yan said, “A note won’t do; the clerk must go himself to fetch it, so it will be sent promptly.” Song Jiang said, “That makes sense.”

The two went downstairs. The old woman went into her room, took the keys, went to the front door, locked it, and took the keys. Song Jiang and Granny Yan headed toward the county office. The sky was still dark, not yet dawn, and the county gate had just opened. When the old woman reached the left side of the county entrance, she grabbed Song Jiang tightly and shouted, “There’s a murderer here!” Song Jiang, terrified and flustered, quickly covered her mouth and said, “Don’t shout!” But he couldn’t stop her. Several officers nearby came over and, seeing it was Song Jiang, urged, “Old woman, shut up! The clerk is not that kind of man. If there’s a problem, just discuss it calmly.” Granny Yan said, “He is the murderer! Seize him and take him to the county office.” Now, Song Jiang was the best of men, loved and respected by all, high and low; no one in the whole county failed to defer to him. Thus, the officers were unwilling to lay hands on him, nor did they believe the old woman. A poem testifies:

When a good man meets trouble, all pity him; when a villain escapes harm, all despise him. Thus one must examine one’s conduct in life; only then can feelings and loyalty be relied upon in a crisis.

Just as no one was coming to his aid, Tang Niu’er happened by, carrying a tray of clean pickled ginger to sell at the county entrance. He saw the old woman grappling with Song Jiang and crying out for justice. Recognizing Granny Yan clutching Song Jiang, and remembering the foul mood from the night before, Tang Niu’er set the tray on the bench of Old Wang, the medicine seller, pushed through, and shouted, “You old vermin, why are you grabbing the clerk?” The old woman said, “Tang Two, don’t you come and snatch him away, or you’ll answer for it with your life!” Tang Niu’er, enraged, paid her no heed. He pulled her hands apart, and without asking why, spread his fingers and slapped her across the face, sending stars spinning. The old woman, dazed, had to let go. Song Jiang escaped and ran straight into the bustling market.

The old woman then grabbed Tang Niu’er and cried, “Clerk Song killed my daughter, and you’ve snatched him away!” Tang Niu’er said in panic, “How would I know?!” Granny Yan shouted, “Officers, please seize the murderer for me! If not, you’ll all be implicated.” The officers, only hindered by their regard for Song Jiang, were unwilling to act; but when it came to taking Tang Niu’er, they didn’t hesitate. The crowd stepped forward—one grabbed the old woman, and three or four seized Tang Niu’er, dragging him horizontally and pulling him backward, shoving him straight into Yuncheng County. Truly, disaster and blessing have no door; they are summoned by man himself. Wrapping hemp to save a fire only invites flames to burn oneself. In the end, how Tang Niu’er, seized by Granny Yan, would escape, must be heard in the next chapter.