Ning Yi knew little about Liangshan, the Water Margin, and matters of that sort. He’d never paid it much mind before, and had come to think of Liangshan—along with the likes of Tian Hu and Wang Qing—as little more than minor troublemakers compared to Fang La’s uprising. Now, with Lu A’Gui laying it all out, it amounted to little more for Ning Yi than adding one more concept to his understanding—though of course, if he meant to seriously deal with Liangshan, these basic facts were things he’d need to know regardless.
Located within the borders of Shandong, the Liangshan Marsh stretched across more than eight hundred li, a vast wetland formed by the Yellow River’s repeated breaches and changes of course over the years. The waterways here ran in every direction, the terrain complex and forbidding, and it was on this foundation that the men of Liangshan had gathered and risen up. In a certain sense, this region had always been a considerable headache for the local authorities to manage. Originally it had been small bands of mountain bandits hiding out here and there—suppressing them would require a large army, more trouble than it was worth, but leaving them unchecked meant the nearby waterways and trade routes were constantly under the thumb of bandits both on land and water, who used the complex terrain and crisscrossing waterways to come and go like the wind. Whenever small detachments of government troops arrived, the bandits would simply vanish without a trace—rendering such efforts entirely useless.
“…For this reason, the local authorities have long been at a loss over this. But the two circuits of Shandong, east and west, have always bred a rather fierce and unruly populace—a place where the bold and the strong tend to gather. Because of the Liangshan Marsh, this whole region has been shaped by it. Bandits are plentiful, yes, but people still need to eat. Around Liangshan, many communities have taken to banding together—some organizing their own villagers to guard their homes and watch out for one another, others purchasing their own horses and weapons. By day, they’re upstanding, peaceable folk; by night, they might well strip off their robes and turn bandit. But because of this, the area around the marsh has actually developed a character all its own—black at the core, gray on the surface. Many of the estates still dutifully pay their taxes to the authorities, and the authorities, in turn, have learned to look the other way…”
Ning Yi was still lying in bed as Lu A’Gui laid out the details of the Liangshan region, while Kang Xian sat off to the side sipping tea.
“…Matters stood like this until the past couple of years, when Fang La rose in rebellion, and that Song Jiang seized the opportunity to rise as well, uniting the various strongholds large and small in the area—only then did it truly become a real problem. The court, these past two years, had already been preoccupied with matters in the north and with Fang La’s uprising. These somewhat unsavory characters around Liangshan already had a fair amount of strength to begin with, and at the time, the strongest among them was probably Zeng Family Market. The chief of Zeng Family Market was originally a merchant from the Jin state, immensely wealthy, and after taking control of the area, he built it up carefully—by that point he commanded well over ten thousand troops. Last August, the Liangshan forces broke Zeng Family Market, seized their horses and provisions, and their momentum surged tremendously across Shandong.” Lu A’Gui tapped a point on the map he’d brought to show Ning Yi. “They must have seen clearly that the court is currently unable to look east, and this time, the purpose of the Jiangning jailbreak is plain enough.”
Ning Yi nodded. “Buying bones with gold, quite the ambition.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Who exactly did they break out this time?”
“On Fang La’s side, there weren’t many high-ranking men among them—the most formidable one was probably Zheng Biao, nicknamed the Demon King Zheng…”
Ning Yi nodded. “I know that one. I killed his master.”
Lu A’Gui smiled. “There’s also Chang Sheng, Zhang Jinren, and Zhang Daoyuan—fairly well-known figures. Liheng, you probably know of them too.”
“I’ve met Chang Sheng and Zhang Daoyuan.” Ning Yi thought about it, then gave a wry, mocking smile. “Good thing they didn’t come to my house…”
Kang Xian took a sip of tea. “This jailbreak, in truth, only freed a dozen or twenty people at most, but they chose a great city like Jiangning to do it in. After this, Liangshan’s name is well and truly made. Fang La’s side is already collapsing like a landslide—those fleeing, those scattering, so long as they still want somewhere to go, most of them will probably choose to throw in with Liangshan. But going forward, the court can only focus everything on the northern campaign; for the next year or two, there won’t be any capacity to spare for Liangshan. It’s not hard to imagine that in a year or two, this Liangshan Marsh will become another Fang La-style crisis.”
What Kang Xian was saying, Ning Yi of course already understood. In certain stories, the resolution is always that Liangshan gets offered amnesty and used to put down Fang La, killing two birds with one stone and bringing peace to the realm—but the reality on the ground right now was that Fang La’s rebellion still wasn’t fully suppressed, Liangshan’s momentum was at its peak, and the court simply couldn’t attend to both fronts at once. If the Liangshan men ended up taking on that role, then even suppressing the Fang La crisis might amount to nothing, in effect. On this matter, both Kang Xian and, far off in the eastern capital, Qin Siyuan, were surely already troubled.
Given that Ning Yi, once captured as a prisoner under Fang La, had still managed to accomplish such impressive feats, his willingness to get involved in the Liangshan matter was exactly what Kang Xian and Qin Siyuan had been hoping for—and beyond him, they were surely searching for other resources or manpower as well, trying to find some way to keep Liangshan’s growth in check without disrupting the northern campaign. Ning Yi nodded. “If the terrain is that complex, it’ll take several times the manpower to wipe them out. Seventy or eighty thousand troops—the court can’t spare that right now.”
Kang Xian nodded. “There are some resources available, but using them carelessly would likely just turn into a drawn-out stalemate. The two Shandong circuits could probably mobilize over twenty thousand men from the Wurui Garrison, though their combat strength isn’t great. In the second half of last year, when Commissioner Tong attacked Hangzhou, Old Qin saw that Liangshan had taken Zeng Family Market and that their momentum was rising, and worried about the trouble this could cause down the line. He gritted his teeth and tried to settle both the southeast and the north in one stroke, ordering the Wurui Garrison into action—but unfortunately, the Liangshan forces used the terrain to their advantage and slipped away, and in the end the campaign fell short, all for nothing. It’s not that the army isn’t there now—it’s the logistics that simply can’t support this kind of futile fighting anymore.”
Kang Xian, ordinarily so at ease, could no longer hide the concern on his face as he spoke of this. It wasn’t that the state of Wu lacked money, but every resource that could currently be mobilized was already stretched taut on the single thread of the northern campaign. Ning Yi said, “If there’s no other way, then it’s either offer amnesty, or form alliances and borrow others’ strength to deal with this.”
Lu A’Gui shook his head. “Both have already been tried. Envoys were sent to offer amnesty twice, and they refused both times. As for borrowing strength, that mostly means the local strongmen around Liangshan—though they’re wary of Liangshan, they don’t fully trust the authorities either. If troops were stationed there, coordinating with them, it might have some effect, but the army can’t easily be spared right now, and trying to get something for nothing—just asking them to help fight directly—hasn’t produced much result either. After Zeng Family Market fell, places around the marsh like Yun Prefecture’s Dulong Ridge and Wanjia Ridge, we’ve considered a few approaches there as well…”
Though Ning Yi could occasionally come up with an unconventional stratagem, at his core he favored the broader strategic picture and straightforward, overt approaches, preferring the direct over the clever whenever possible. Since this was, for the moment, just an offhand discussion, the first thing that came to mind, naturally, was amnesty. Hearing that Liangshan had refused twice already left him somewhat puzzled—wasn’t Song Jiang of Liangshan supposed to be desperately hoping for the court to offer him amnesty? Could it be the wrong envoys had been sent? He wasn’t familiar with the Water Margin, so he couldn’t think of the right names offhand. As he was mulling this over, Lu A’Gui had already moved on, and a certain name suddenly surfaced in his mind, giving him a brief pause. He looked more closely at the map.
“Dulong Ridge? Is that the one with the Zhu Family Estate?”
Lu A’Gui leaned over to look. “Mm, that’s right—there should be three estates there, the Li Family Estate, the Zhu Family Estate, and the Hu Family Estate. The three families support one another and can field over ten thousand troops between them. Since Liangshan’s sudden rise, they’ve been especially on guard, but getting them to take the initiative and strike first—that’s probably out of the question.”
Ning Yi studied the map for a good while, then looked up. “The Zhu Family Estate hasn’t been taken yet?”
Lu A’Gui hesitated for a moment at the question, then finally said, “The Dulong Ridge area is certainly something the Liangshan men have their eyes on, but as for attacking it… when that might happen, I couldn’t say… Young Master Ning, why are you so certain the Liangshan men will attack Dulong Ridge?”
“I… I’m not sure either…”
…
By the time Su Tan’er returned, Kang Xian and Lu A’Gui had already left. Ning Yi took up a cane and got out of bed, still turning over thoughts about Liangshan in his mind.
The courtyard was new, though not actually far from the Su estate. Su Tan’er’s trip there and back hadn’t taken too long, but her health, these past few days, still wasn’t very good. Ning Yi could roughly understand the necessity of her showing up there briefly each day, and now had her go to bed early. In truth, the two of them, husband and wife, both looked rather worse for wear these days. Su Tan’er, though she seemed fine on the surface, was in truth still quite weak—she hadn’t really observed her postpartum recovery period at all. The day before, when Ning Yi had woken, he’d told her not to go again today, but this morning she had quietly gotten up and gone anyway. She wanted to see this family division through as quickly as possible—whether out of resentment or simple stubbornness, her mind was made up either way.
Ning Yi, meanwhile, was still covered in wounds from head to toe, bandages wrapped all over him like a freshly bound mummy, the deep fatigue from the Six-Path-Breaking technique still lingering in his body. Still, sitting at the edge of the bed and looking at each other, the two of them couldn’t help but share a knowing smile. The small new courtyard was quiet, bamboo leaves rustling softly, the afternoon still young. After Xiao Chan left, Ning Yi helped her out of her outer robe and removed her shoes and socks, settling her down to sleep in the bed—it felt, in a way, rather like a young newlywed couple in their bridal chamber.
“I’ll go tomorrow. You should rest too.”
He said this softly, and Tan’er nodded, lying beneath the covers, turning her head to gaze quietly at him—at her husband’s back as he sat at the bedside, at the wounds and bandages on his body. After a while, in the mild air of late spring turning to early summer, she quietly drifted off to sleep. Ning Yi looked back at her for a while, the light streaming in and casting shadows across her face, her profile tinted a soft gold, her lashes trembling faintly.
It would be hard to find a couple in this world quite like the two of them—Ning Yi’s steadfastness, Su Tan’er’s fierce pride… In truth, Ning Yi understood perfectly well why, these past few days, she had insisted on caring for him despite her own frail health while also handling matters at the Su estate. It was simply that when one pillar of the household had fallen, another had to rise to take its place—no matter how much grief and pain there was, dwelling on it would do no good in the end. And Su Tan’er, in turn, understood perfectly well why Ning Yi, even now, was forcing himself to get up and take charge of things. Though he’d said little of it aloud, he was already handling matters, and now that he’d risen and taken things in hand, she could finally, at last, settle back into the role of a wife—simply following his lead.
And so, the next day, at the main gate of the Su estate—draped now in white mourning banners, the mournful yet vigorous strains of suona horns sounding, with people constantly coming to pay their respects—a sedan chair came to a stop. Supported by Xiao Chan, Ning Yi stepped out through the chair’s door leaning on his cane, then let go of her hand and made his way up the steps, one at a time. Before this, his status within the Su household had been nothing more than that of a son-in-law who’d married in—though he’d accomplished a great deal, writing poetry, befriending men of talent, uncovering schemes and steadily building up the First Branch’s standing—there had still always been plenty within the family who murmured behind his back, scorning him, scheming against him, needling him without end. And even now, he still carried that same status as a son-in-law who’d married in, his wounds not yet healed, walking slowly, even with some difficulty. But when he leaned on his cane and lifted his head, the crowd fell utterly silent—not a single person there dared look down on him any longer…