Water Margin: The Tale of Li Erlang of Guankou

"Mr. Wen, now there is only one thing we need to think about: how to avenge our brothers at Liangshan!"

Li Hanxiao looked at the memorial tablets of his fallen brothers in the Zhengda Guangming Hall, feeling a pang of sadness.

The three-year-old son of "Drilling Spear" Zhu Jing has now been adopted by "Leopard Head" Lin Chong and his wife. The poor child, his mother died in childbirth, and now his father is gone too...

Wen Huanzhang sighed and said, "Originally, such supernatural and bizarre things were not to be discussed by the Confucian scholars, but who would have thought that he actually had such abilities? It's a pity that Mr. Xu has not returned yet..."

If you're talking about dealing with people, Wen Huanzhang has a way, but dealing with demonic magic is something he's never seen before, and he doesn't know how to make it effective.

The flickering candle wept in the bronze incense burner of the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The two men looked at each other in silence. Li Hanxiao could protect himself with his own abilities, but what about his brothers from Liangshan?

Moreover, Li Hanxiao didn't know what other spells Gao Lian possessed. If there were even more powerful ones, conventional methods would definitely not be enough to deal with them.

Li Hanxiao wanted to use firearms for a large-scale attack, but unfortunately Liangshanbo's firearm reserves were not enough to completely defeat this thing with firepower.

Just then, a group of people walked in from outside. The short man leading them was none other than Wu Dalang. He and his cooks had quickly made a batch of cakes to offer as tribute to their fallen comrades.

Wu Dalang tiptoed to place the last stack of jujube cakes on the long table. Ash from the stove clung to his coarse apron, making it look like he was wearing a half-mourning garment on this short man.

Amidst the swirling smoke on the table, 2,732 memorial tablets stood silently like a forest. Each of these cakes was marked with a red dot, resembling a "cinnabar seal," which, according to folk beliefs, can purify the offerings and prevent evil spirits from intruding.

Due to his height, Wu Dalang was indeed not suitable to place the offerings on the table, so he handed them over to the other cooks. Instead, he took a bamboo basket, walked over to Li Hanxiao, and placed the basket on the table next to Li Hanxiao while standing on tiptoe.

"Chief Li, eat it while it's hot."

Wu Dalang lifted the bamboo basket and took out a rough pottery bowl.

The bowl of wide noodles was topped with scallions, with two poached eggs at the bottom, and a lot of shredded chicken floating in the soup, clearly a whole piece of chicken breast that had been torn apart piece by piece.

"Brother Wu, I apologize for disturbing Brother Wu's joyous occasion today!"

Li Hanxiao had no appetite and couldn't eat at all. When Wu Dalang heard Li Hanxiao say this, he waved his hand and said, "Hey, what are you saying, Chief Li? It was those government troops who came to attack us. We should hold them accountable. I heard that you, Chief Li, haven't eaten or drunk anything for a day and a night. How can that be? People need food to survive!"

The flickering candle cast dappled shadows on the blue brick floor of the Zhengda Guangming Hall. The veins on the back of Wu Dalang's hand, which held the bowl of noodles, bulged out like old tree roots coiled at the bottom of the rough pottery bowl.

Li Han smiled as he watched the noodles floating in the soup, and vaguely saw the figures of soldiers struggling on the battlefield.

"The chieftain should just take this as a taste of the saltiness."

Wu Dalang suddenly slammed the bowl down on the offering table, causing the eternal flame in front of the memorial tablet to flicker on. He sat down on the ground and said, "When I was a child, feeding my brothers wasn't this difficult. What's wrong? Can't the dignified Chief Li even eat a meal? When I was tricked up the mountain by you carrying my pancake-selling load, although I was unwilling and cursed you a thousand times in my heart, but..."

Wu Dalang tiptoed to wipe the highest memorial tablet, his coarse cloth sleeve sweeping away the incense ash. He then said, "But hearing is believing, seeing is believing. Seeing the Ruan brothers sharing the stolen grain with the orphaned old man, and Master Lu carrying water for the lame groom... I, Wu Dalang, thought to myself, this isn't a bandit stronghold; it's clearly a cave of living Buddhas!"

Li Hanxiao's hands suddenly tightened, and sweat was already dripping from his palms.

The north wind outside the hall swept in the paper money, and Li Hanxiao saw that the paper money seemed to be sentient, flying into the ever-burning lamp, and the flame suddenly shot up three feet.

"Chief Li, do you think this meal is just for yourself? The people of the four counties of Jizhou, the fishermen of Shijie Village… so many poor souls depend on your kindness to live!"

"In my opinion, the world cannot do without you, Chief Li, nor can the people of Liangshan do without you, Chief Li! The world cannot do without you!"

Wu Dalang, a commoner with little education and no reputation for culture, was able to say such things, which shocked Li Hanxiao. More than anything, it made Li Hanxiao feel that all his efforts had not been in vain and had been worthwhile.

This is public approval. Wu Dalang wasn't highly educated; you couldn't have made up these words even if you asked him. This only proves that it's what he truly felt.

Li Hanxiao's throat bobbed, and two teardrops suddenly dripped into the noodle soup, sliding down Li Hanxiao's face.

Suddenly, Wu Dalang grabbed his chopsticks and hit Li Hanxiao on the head, just like he was disciplining his younger brother Wu Song, which startled Wen Huanzhang who was standing next to him.

"If you don't eat, you're ruining everyone's livelihood!"

Wu Dalang slammed his hand heavily on the table, causing the two thousand memorial tablets to tremble. Li Hanxiao, however, showed no reaction, seemingly accepting the sentiment.

The rising steam from the noodle soup blurred the image of the memorial tablet. Li Han smiled, picked up the earthenware bowl, and said, "Okay, eat."

The runny yolk that oozes out when you bite into a poached egg, mixed with the salty and savory noodle soup, is even saltier and more pungent than blood.

Wu Dalang wiped the offering table with a coarse cloth, muttering: "The noodles are made from the new wheat ground by Old Zhao of Shijie Village, the scallions were freshly picked by Sister-in-law Ruan, and I made this bowl of noodles myself. Chieftain, eat more; this is the heartfelt gift of so many people..."

As the noodle soup entered his throat, Li Hanxiao tasted the chicken soup mixed with the aroma of wheat. He suddenly saw Wu Dalang turn around and wipe his face, his coarse cloth sleeves clearly soaked with a large patch of moisture.

Amidst the tinkling of wind chimes on the eaves, the short man, whom he once regarded as a tool to help Wu Song climb the mountain, was standing on tiptoe to place jujube cakes on each memorial tablet, as if tucking a sleeping child in.

Li Hanxiao's hand holding the chopsticks trembled. His stomach, which had not eaten or drunk anything for a day and a night, suddenly convulsed. He saw his cracked lips reflected in the noodle soup, like a riverbed that had been parched for three years.

Wu Dalang tapped the offering table: "These cakes and pastries offered to our fallen brothers are all mixed with cliff honey. They couldn't taste this sweetness in life, but even in death they should remember its sweetness, so they'll know to strive for sweetness in their next life..."

As he swallowed the last mouthful of soup, Li Hanxiao stroked the cracks on the empty bowl and suddenly realized: what was in this rough earthenware bowl was not noodles, but the land supported by countless people.

"How does it taste? My second son followed the chief to kill corrupt officials, so I made sure the brothers had enough to eat."

Wu Dalang grinned.

Suddenly, the sound of a child crying came from outside the hall. Li Hanxiao looked up and saw Lin Niangzi holding the child of "Drilling Spear" Zhu Jing, followed by many orphans whose fathers had died in this battle.

Seeing this, Wu Dalang took the remaining jujube cakes and Lin Niangzi was stuffing half a jujube cake into the baby's mouth.

All the children went to take the date cakes, but none of them touched the offerings—those cakes mixed with cliff honey.

"That's right, that's right, kids, eat more. You need to be full to think of solutions."

Wu Dalang suddenly pressed down on Li Hanxiao's hand holding the chopsticks. The rough palm lines, calloused from the knife, felt heavier than the three-pointed knife.

The candle flame on the table flickered, casting the gold paint on the memorial tablet on and off, making it seem as if more than two thousand pairs of eyes were twinkling in the firelight.

Good noodles.

Li Hanxiao flicked his finger, causing the empty bowl to crack and the last drop of soup to seep out, falling onto the ground.

Li Hanxiao suddenly realized that Wu Dalang might be a very pathetic character in the original novel "Water Margin," but he also had some admirable qualities...

At that moment, he seemed to see the setting sun staining the bluestone road of Yanggu County blood red, and Wu Dalang's pancake carrying pole bent into a bow under the weight of his load.

In the sweltering heat of summer, sweat trickled down his neck and soaked into his patched-up coarse cloth shirt, leaving salty white stains; in the depths of winter, his straw sandals froze on the icy stone slabs, and even with torn skin on his feet, he would leave the last two steamed buns for Wu Song, who was studying late into the night.

The bamboo baskets at both ends of the carrying pole contained frozen dough balls on one end and a chubby-faced baby on the other—this was all the Wu family's possessions.

Whether it was Yanggu County or Qinghe County, the neighbors always laughed at him: "A short, ugly boy with a worn-out book cover."

He didn't care and continued living his life as usual, polishing the cracked earthenware bowl until it shone, and filling it with well water to teach Wu Song to recognize the stars in the ripples: "Erlang, look, this bright spot is the God of Literature. I'll get you a tutor tomorrow."

The copper coins sold for steamed buns were strung on his waistband, the sweat-soaked hemp rope chafing his skin, in exchange for half a ream of rough paper and two worn-out pens.

When Wu Song punched away the ruffian who was trying to steal the book, he grabbed a rolling pin for the first time, his short frame blocking his younger brother's path: "If you want to mess with my second brother, smash this steamer first!"

Li Hanxiao seemed to see again Wu Song, who had been starving for three days and was delirious with fever, talking nonsense on a snowy night.

Wu Dalang stepped barefoot into the knee-deep snowdrift, his ten toes frozen purple like radishes, and managed to dig out half a basket of frozen field mice in the dark. The firelight from the stove illuminated his hunched back, and the old cotton wadding in the patches fluttered in the heat, like a tattered flag.

When Wu Song, gnawing on a roasted field mouse, asked, "Brother, why aren't you eating?" the man licked the cracked earthenware bowl and laughed, "Brother's had his fill of noodle soup."

Perhaps, in the original novel of "Water Margin," that pancake vendor had long since turned to ashes, but the old people of Yanggu County still remember: the short man's shoulders will forever bear the grooves left by the carrying pole, more terrifying than the roar of the tiger on Jingyang Ridge.

He never straightened his back in his entire life, but when Wu Dutou angrily sank the Lion Tower, he used his hunched back to support the straightest blue sky in the world.

Despite his short stature, Wu Dalang was Wu Song's first "father".

The early death of his parents forced Wu Dalang to act as both an older brother and a father in the hellish life of the Song Dynasty.

Li Hanxiao listened to Wu Song reminisce about his childhood, saying, "I lost my parents when I was young, and my older brother fed me bite by bite with steamed buns."

In that era of widespread famine, the difficulty for a lowly street vendor to raise his younger brother to become a gang leader was no less than that of a single mother today supporting her child to attend a prestigious university.

If Wu Dalang were alive, Wu Song would only be Wu Erlang, willing to compromise and swallow his pride for his brother's sake, yielding to the world and injustice. If Wu Dalang were dead, Wu Song would be the wandering monk Wu Song, free from all attachments, his blade striking with devastation, leaving heads rolling and blood flowing like rivers.

Wu Dalang is Wu Song's seal, Wu Song's shackle, Wu Song's most tender inner self. Wu Song is willing to smell the roses for Wu Dalang and lock the fierce tiger in his heart.

However, Li Hanxiao did not abandon Wu Dalang just because he wanted Wu Song to join Liangshan, just as he would abandon the working masses for personal gain.

This is precisely what makes these ordinary people so admirable. They may not achieve much in their lives, but they never steal or rob, they are honest and hardworking. In other words, they are upright and incorruptible.

It was the support of these ordinary people, bit by bit, that enabled him to succeed...

Thinking of this, Li Hanxiao suddenly stood up, and the candlestick that his battle robe had knocked over was caught steadily by Wu Dalang.

In the flickering flames, he saw his chapped lips being moistened by the soup, like parched land receiving its first rain.

Li Hanxiao grabbed the three-pointed double-edged knife, its cold light cleaving through the shadows of the offering table, instantly revealing the gold lacquer on the two thousand spirit tablets as brilliant as the rising sun.

"Bring me my armor!"

The three-pointed, double-edged sword slammed heavily onto the ground, causing the wind chimes on the eaves to ring.

Amidst the clanging, Wu Dalang stood on tiptoe to tighten the lion-head belt for him, his hands as steady as Mount Tai.

Li Hanxiao has decided to lead all his troops to attack Jeju City.

As for tactics, there's only one: capture the king first.

The proverb "To catch a thief, first catch the king" comes from the poem "Before Leaving the Frontier" by the Tang Dynasty poet Du Fu: "When drawing a bow, draw a strong one; when using an arrow, use a long one; when shooting a man, shoot his horse first; when catching a thief, catch the king first."

There's a folk saying, "Strike the snake at its seven-inch mark," which conveys the same idea. A snake can't function without a head; if you strike its head, the snake is finished. In military terms, this strategy involves defeating the enemy's main force, capturing their leader, and causing the enemy army to completely disintegrate.

In his previous life, when Li Hanxiao was in the special forces, this method was called a "decapitation strike".

No matter how powerful you are, Gao Lian, you can only be powerful against yourself. If others are allowed to hold back the rest of the troops, Li Hanxiao can rush up and kill Gao Lian!

Or perhaps Li Hanxiao would distract Gao Lian, and then Li Hanxiao would use remote means to kill Gao Lian in one fell swoop?

This is also feasible, since Gao Lian had no means of defense in the original work.

The original text states, "That night, a great storm raged. Yang Lin and Bai Sheng, leading over three hundred men, lay in ambush in the grass. They saw Gao Lian walking, leading three hundred divine soldiers, blowing the wind and whistling, charging into the camp. Finding it empty, he turned to flee. Yang Lin and Bai Sheng shouted, and Gao Lian, fearing a trap, scattered and fled. The three hundred divine soldiers fled in all directions. Yang Lin and Bai Sheng fired their crossbows indiscriminately, shooting wildly, one arrow striking Gao Lian squarely in the left back. The army scattered, chasing after him in the rain. Gao Lian led his divine soldiers far away. Yang Lin and Bai Sheng, outnumbered, dared not venture deeper. After a short while, the rain stopped, the clouds dispersed, and the stars reappeared."

Yang Lin, nicknamed "The Leopard," and Bai Sheng, nicknamed "The White-Day Rat," were able to injure Gao Lian with a simple sneak attack, proving that he didn't possess any physical defense-type magic.

Or, to put it another way, as long as we can catch him off guard, Gao Lian can be eliminated. The sooner Gao Lian dies, the less threat Liangshan Marsh will face.

Liangshan Marsh also possessed long-range weapons; although their cannons were few in number, several were aimed at Gao Lian…