Explore Chapter 26 of '水浒新传' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
The story tells how Wu Song, having taken his leave of Song Jiang at Chai Jin’s manor, set out for Qinghe County. After several days on the road, he reached the district of Yanggu County. The county seat was still far off. At noon one day, feeling hungry and thirsty from the journey, he saw up ahead an inn with a wine-shop pennant hung before its door, bearing the inscription: ‘Three Bowls, and You Cannot Cross the Ridge.’
Wu Song went inside and sat down, leaning his pikestaff against the wall. ‘Landlord!’ he cried. ‘Bring wine, and be quick about it!’ The innkeeper brought three bowls, a pair of chopsticks, and a plate of hot food, setting them before Wu Song, then filled a bowl to the brim with wine. Wu Song raised it and drained it in one gulp. ‘This wine has a real kick!’ he exclaimed. ‘Landlord, bring some solid fare to go with it.’ ‘We have only cooked beef,’ replied the innkeeper. ‘Fine. Cut me two or three catties,’ said Wu Song.
The innkeeper went inside, sliced two catties of cooked beef, placed it on a large platter, and set it before Wu Song. He then poured another bowl of wine. Wu Song drank it and said, ‘Good wine!’ The man poured a third bowl. After drinking exactly three bowls, no more was offered. Wu Song rapped the table. ‘Landlord! Why no more wine?’ ‘If you want more meat, I’ll bring it,’ said the innkeeper. ‘I want wine, too,’ said Wu Song, ‘and more meat as well.’ ‘I can cut more meat,’ said the innkeeper, ‘but no more wine.’ ‘What the devil!’ cried Wu Song. ‘Why won’t you sell me wine?’ ‘Sir, you must have seen the pennant outside,’ said the innkeeper. ‘It clearly says: “Three Bowls, and You Cannot Cross the Ridge.”’ ‘What does that mean?’ asked Wu Song.
‘Our wine, though a village brew, has a kick stronger than aged liquor,’ the innkeeper explained. ‘Any guest who drinks three bowls in my inn becomes too drunk to cross the ridge ahead. Hence the name. Travelers who stop here drink only three bowls and ask for no more.’ Wu Song laughed. ‘Is that so? I’ve had three bowls. Why am I not drunk?’ ‘This wine is called “Fragrance Through the Bottle,” or “Fall at the Door.” It’s mellow and tasty at first, but soon lays you flat.’ ‘Enough of this nonsense!’ retorted Wu Song. ‘Do you think I won’t pay? Pour three more bowls!’
Seeing Wu Song was wholly unaffected, the innkeeper poured three more bowls. Wu Song drank them. ‘Truly fine wine! Landlord, I’ll pay for every bowl. Just keep pouring.’ The innkeeper warned, ‘Sir, don’t insist. This wine can truly knock a man out, and there’s no cure.’ ‘Shut your damned trap!’ snapped Wu Song. ‘Even if you’ve slipped knockout drops in it, I’d smell a rat!’ Unable to withstand his bluster, the innkeeper poured another three bowls in quick succession. ‘Bring another two catties of meat,’ said Wu Song. The innkeeper sliced two more catties of beef and poured three more bowls of wine.
Wu Song, thoroughly enjoying the taste, wanted to keep drinking. He took out some loose silver. ‘Landlord, look here. Is this enough for the wine and meat?’ The innkeeper looked. ‘There’s extra. I’ll give you change.’ ‘Keep the change,’ said Wu Song. ‘Just bring the wine.’ ‘Sir, there are still five or six bowls left, but I fear you can’t take them.’ ‘If there are five or six, pour them all!’ said Wu Song. ‘You’re a tall fellow,’ said the innkeeper. ‘If you fall over drunk, how could I hold you up?’ ‘If I need holding up, I’m no true man!’ Wu Song retorted. The innkeeper was still reluctant. Wu Song grew furious. ‘I’m not drinking for free! Don’t make me lose my temper, or I’ll smash this rickety tavern of yours to kindling and turn it inside out!’ ‘The wretch is drunk,’ muttered the innkeeper. ‘Best not provoke him.’ He poured six more bowls, which Wu Song drank. In all, he drank fifteen bowls. Picking up his pikestaff, he rose. ‘And I’m still not drunk!’ He strode out the door, laughing. ‘So much for “Three Bowls, and You Cannot Cross the Ridge”!’ Staff in hand, he marched off.
The innkeeper ran after him. ‘Sir, where are you going?’ Wu Song stopped. ‘What is it? I paid you in full!’ ‘I mean well,’ cried the innkeeper. ‘Come back and see the official proclamation.’ ‘What proclamation?’ ‘Lately, on Jingyang Ridge ahead, a great tiger with bulging eyes and a white brow comes out at night to maul people. It’s killed twenty or thirty stout men. The authorities have ordered the hunters to capture it, on pain of the rod. Proclamations are posted on both sides of the ridge path. Travelers are told to cross in groups only during the hours of si, wu, and wei. The other six hours are forbidden. Moreover, a lone traveler must not cross by day; he must wait for company. It’s now late afternoon. I saw you leave without asking, and you’ll throw your life away. Better rest here tonight and wait till tomorrow to gather twenty or thirty men to cross safely.’ Wu Song laughed. ‘I’m from Qinghe County. I’ve crossed this Jingyang Ridge a score of times at least. When did I ever hear of a tiger? Don’t scare me with such claptrap! Even if there is a tiger, I’m not afraid.’ ‘I’m trying to save you,’ said the innkeeper. ‘If you don’t believe me, come in and see the proclamation.’ ‘Even if there really is a tiger, I’m not afraid!’ Wu Song shot back. ‘You want me to stay the night-do you plan to rob me or murder me in the dead of night, using this tiger story to frighten me?’ ‘See here!’ said the innkeeper. ‘My good heart is taken for a bad one. You’ve twisted my words. If you don’t believe me, please, go on your way.’ Indeed: Many carts ahead have overturned, / The ones behind will do the same. / A safe road’s there for all to see, / Yet honest counsel is called blame.
The innkeeper shook his head and went back inside. Wu Song, staff in hand, strode boldly toward Jingyang Ridge. After four or five li, he reached the foot of the ridge, where he saw a large tree with its bark scraped off, leaving a white patch inscribed with two lines of writing. Wu Song, who knew a few characters, looked up and read: ‘Recently, a tiger on Jingyang Ridge has been injuring people. Travelers should cross in groups during the hours of si, wu, and wei. Do not risk your life.’ Wu Song laughed. ‘The innkeeper’s trick, to scare guests into staying. What do I care?’ He trailed his staff sideways and began the ascent. It was mid-afternoon; the red sun sank languidly behind the hills. Buoyed by wine, Wu Song pressed on up the ridge. Before half a li, he saw a dilapidated mountain temple. At the temple door was pasted an official proclamation with a seal. Wu Song stopped and read: ‘Notice from Yanggu County: As a large tiger on Jingyang Ridge is taking human lives, and the village heads and hunters ordered to capture it have so far failed, all travelers are advised to cross in groups during si, wu, and wei. At other times, and if traveling alone, do not cross, lest you be killed. Let all be informed.’
Now Wu Song knew there truly was a tiger. He thought of turning back to the inn, but then reflected, ‘If I go back, I’ll be laughed at. That’s no way for a hero. I can’t turn back.’ After a moment’s thought, he said, ‘What the hell am I afraid of? I’ll just go on and see!’ As he walked, the wine rose within him. He slung his felt hat on his back, tucked his staff under his arm, and trudged step by step up the ridge. Looking back, he saw the sun slowly sinking. It was the tenth month, when days are short and nights long, and dusk comes early. ‘Where’s this tiger?’ he muttered to himself. ‘People are just scared, that’s all.’ He walked on, the wine taking full effect, his body growing feverish. Holding his staff in one hand and baring his chest with the other, he staggered through a wild grove. Seeing a large, smooth blue rock, he leaned his staff against it and lay down, about to sleep, when a fierce wind sprang up. A wind that, formless, shadowless, chills the heart; / That strips the trees and drives the clouds apart. / For cloud follows dragon, wind follows tiger. As the gust passed, from behind the trees came a sudden crash, and out leaped a great tiger with bulging eyes and a white brow. ‘Aiya!’ cried Wu Song. He rolled off the blue rock, snatched up his staff, and dodged behind it.
The tiger, hungry and thirsty, pressed its paws slightly on the ground, gathered itself, and launched a mighty pounce from mid-air. The shock sent the wine fleeing in a cold sweat. Quick as thought! Seeing the tiger lunge, Wu Song dodged nimbly to its rear. A tiger finds it hardest to see behind. It planted its front paws, swung its massive waist, and tried to flip him. Wu Song dodged aside. Missing again, the tiger roared-a thunderclap that seemed to shake the ridge-and raised its iron-bar-like tail for a sideways sweep. Wu Song dodged once more. Now a tiger attacks with just three moves: a pounce, a swing, and a sweep. If all three fail, its spirit flags by half. The sweep having missed, the tiger roared again and whirled back around. Seeing it turn, Wu Song raised his staff with all his might and brought it whistling down from the sky. There was a tremendous crackle as the blow smashed down through branches and leaves. But looking closely, he saw he had missed the tiger entirely. In his haste, he had struck a dead tree, snapping the staff in two, leaving only half in his hand.
The tiger roared with fury, turned, and pounced again. Wu Song leaped back ten paces. The tiger landed with its front paws right before him. Wu Song threw aside the broken staff and, with both hands, seized the tiger by the scruff of its neck, forcing it down. The beast struggled wildly, but Wu Song held it fast with all his strength, not yielding an inch. He began kicking furiously at its face and eyes. The tiger roared, scratching up two mounds of yellow mud beneath it, making a pit. Wu Song shoved its snout down into the mud. The tiger, thus subdued, began to lose strength. Gripping the scruff tightly with his left hand, Wu Song freed his right, formed a fist like an iron hammer, and with all the might he could muster, rained blows upon it. After fifty or seventy punches, blood gushed from the tiger’s eyes, mouth, nose, and ears. Drawing on his god-like strength and martial skill, Wu Song in short order beat the tiger into a lifeless heap, like a slumped brocade sack. An ancient ballad sings of Wu Song’s feat on Jingyang Ridge: On Jingyang Ridge the wild wind shrieks; / For miles dark clouds obscure the sun. / Dusk stains the woods and marshes deep; / A chilling mist veils sky, undone. / A sudden thunderclap resounds- / The beast-king springs from the hillside. / Head high, it leaps with bared fangs; / The deer and elk in panic hide. / The Qinghe hero, wine still warm, / Sits on the ridge to face the foe. / Seeking man, the tiger hungers; / Its pounce and swing strike terror below. / Tiger falls like a crashing mountain; / Man meets it like a leaning cliff. / Arms swing down like cannon shot; / Claws rake pits where mud is stiff. / Fists and feet fall like pelting rain; / Both hands are stained a crimson dye. / Bloody wind and rain drench the pines; / Scattered fur on the slope doth lie. / Near view shows force of a thousand jun; / Far view, its eight-fold might is gone. / It lies athwart the wild grass now, / Its brocade stripes dim, its fierce eyes wan.
Thus, on Jingyang Ridge, that fierce tiger was pummeled by Wu Song in less time than it takes to eat a meal, beaten so it could not move, only panting weakly. Wu Song released his grip and went to a pine to retrieve the broken staff. He took it up and, fearing the tiger might not be fully dead, beat it some more with the stump. The tiger breathed its last. Wu Song thought, ‘I’ll drag this dead tiger down the ridge.’ But when he tried to lift it from the pool of blood, he could not budge it. He had exhausted all his strength; his limbs were weak and numb, unable to move.
Wu Song sat back on the blue rock to rest awhile. ‘It’s getting dark,’ he thought. ‘If another tiger jumps out, how can I fight it? I’d better struggle down the ridge and deal with this tomorrow.’ He found his felt hat by the rock, made his way through the wild grove, and slowly, laboriously descended the ridge. Before half a li, he saw two ‘tigers’ emerge from a thicket of dry grass. ‘Aiya!’ cried Wu Song. ‘This is the end!’ Then he saw the two ‘tigers’ stand upright in the shadows. Looking closely, they were two men wearing tiger skins sewn into tight garments. Each held a five-pronged fork. They stared at Wu Song in shock. ‘You… you… you must have a bear’s heart, a leopard’s gall, and a lion’s legs! Your courage fills your frame! How dare you cross the ridge alone at dusk, and unarmed! Are… are you man or ghost?’ ‘Who are you two?’ asked Wu Song. ‘We are hunters from these parts,’ they said. ‘What are you doing on the ridge?’ The hunters gasped. ‘Don’t you know? There’s a huge tiger on Jingyang Ridge that comes out every night to kill. Seven or eight of us hunters have died; countless travelers have been devoured. The county magistrate has ordered the village heads and us hunters to capture it. The cursed beast is too fierce to approach. Who dares go near? We’ve suffered beatings for failing. Tonight is our watch, with a dozen villagers. We’ve set traps and poison arrows all around, lying in ambush. Then we saw you swaggering down the ridge and got a fright. Who are you? Have you seen the tiger?’ ‘I’m from Qinghe County,’ said Wu Song. ‘Surname Wu, second in my family. Just now, by the wild grove on the ridge, I met that tiger and beat it to death with my fists.’ The hunters were dumbstruck. ‘Can it be true?’ ‘If you don’t believe me, see the bloodstains on me.’ ‘How did you manage it?’ Wu Song recounted the feat. Amazed and delighted, the hunters called over the ten villagers.
The ten villagers approached, armed with steel forks, crossbows, knives, and spears. Wu Song asked, ‘Why didn’t they come up with you two?’ ‘The beast is too dangerous,’ said the hunters. ‘They didn’t dare!’ The group of a dozen men gathered round. The two hunters told everyone how Wu Song had slain the tiger. None would believe it. Wu Song said, ‘If you don’t believe me, come and see.’ They had flint and steel, so they struck a light and lit five or seven torches. All followed Wu Song back up the ridge and saw the tiger lying dead in a heap. Overjoyed, they sent one man to report to the village head and local gentry. The five or seven villagers bound the tiger and carried it down.
At the foot of the ridge, a crowd of seventy or eighty had gathered. They carried the dead tiger ahead, then seated Wu Song in a sedan chair and took him to the manor of a local gentleman. The gentleman and the village head greeted them at the gate. The tiger was carried into the main hall. About twenty or thirty local gentlemen and hunters came to see Wu Song. They asked, ‘Brave warrior, what is your esteemed name and native place?’ Wu Song replied, ‘I am from neighboring Qinghe County, surnamed Wu, named Song, second in my family. Returning from Cangzhou, I got very drunk last night at the inn beyond the ridge and encountered this beast on my way up.’ He recounted his tiger-fighting exploit in detail. The gentlemen exclaimed, ‘A true hero and brave man!’ The hunters first served game with wine to toast him. Tired from the fight, Wu Song wanted to sleep. The host had servants prepare a guest room for him to rest.
At dawn, the gentleman sent a man to report to the county magistrate. Meanwhile, they prepared a tiger-carrying frame and made ready to send it to the county. At daybreak, Wu Song rose and washed. Many gentlemen brought a sheep and a load of wine, waiting in the hall. Wu Song dressed, adjusted his headgear, and came out to meet them. The gentlemen offered a toast, saying, ‘This beast has killed countless people and caused the hunters to be beaten time and again. Today, thanks to your coming, this great scourge is removed. First, the local people are blessed; second, travelers may pass safely. All is due to your prowess.’ Wu Song thanked them. ‘It was not my own ability, but thanks to the good fortune of you elders.’ All congratulated him, feasting through the morning. The tiger was carried out and placed on the frame. The village gentlemen presented Wu Song with bolts of silk and red celebratory hangings. Wu Song had left his luggage at the manor. They all set out together. The magistrate of Yanggu County had already sent men to meet Wu Song. After greetings, four retainers carried Wu Song in a cool sedan chair, with the tiger borne ahead, also adorned with silks and red hangings, and escorted into Yanggu County.
The people of Yanggu County, hearing a hero had killed the tiger on Jingyang Ridge, all turned out to watch, stirring the whole county seat. From his sedan, Wu Song saw crowds packed shoulder to shoulder, a noisy, seething mass filling the streets and lanes to welcome the tiger. At the entrance to the county office, the magistrate was waiting in the hall. Wu Song alighted, and they carried the tiger to the hall, placing it in the corridor. The magistrate observed Wu Song’s imposing stature and this huge, splendid tiger, thinking, ‘Only such a man could have slain this fierce beast!’ He summoned Wu Song forward. Wu Song made a bow. The magistrate asked, ‘You, the tiger-slaying hero, tell us how you killed it.’ Wu Song recounted his feat before the hall. All present, high and low, were struck dumb with amazement. The magistrate offered him several cups of wine and presented the reward of one thousand strings of cash collected from the gentlemen. Wu Song declined. ‘Thanks to Your Honor’s good fortune, I happened by luck to kill this tiger. It was not my own skill. How dare I accept a reward? I hear the hunters have been punished on account of this tiger. Why not give this thousand strings to them?’ ‘As you wish, brave warrior,’ said the magistrate. Wu Song then distributed the reward in the hall among the hunters. The magistrate, impressed by his honesty and virtue, decided to promote him. ‘Though you are from Qinghe County, it is close to our Yanggu. I shall recommend you for the post of chief constable in this county. What say you?’ Wu Song knelt in gratitude. ‘If Your Honor so honors me, I shall be indebted for life.’ The magistrate immediately ordered the clerk to draft the document, and that very day Wu Song was made chief constable of the infantry. All the gentlemen came to congratulate him, celebrating with feasts for three to five days. Wu Song thought to himself, ‘I meant to return to Qinghe to see my brother. Who would have thought I’d become a constable in Yanggu County?’ From then on, he enjoyed the favor of his superiors and his name was known throughout the district.
Two or three days later, Wu Song was strolling outside the county office when he heard someone call from behind, ‘Constable Wu! Now that you’ve risen in the world, won’t you look out for me?’ Wu Song turned and cried, ‘Aiya! How do you come to be here?’ Had Wu Song not met this man, what would have followed? In Yanggu County, corpses would lie strewn, the ground stained with blood. Truly: Where steel blades whistle, heads will fall; / Where bright swords flash, hot blood will sprawl. But who was it who called out to Constable Wu? Pray hear it told in the next chapter.