That night Panther Head Lin Chong lay drunk in the snow, unable to struggle to his feet. The estate workers bound him and hauled him to a manor house. A servant came out from the courtyard and said, “The master hasn’t risen yet. Hang this fellow high under the gate tower.”

By dawn Lin Chong had sobered enough to look around. It was indeed a fine large estate. He shouted, “Who dares hang me here?”

Hearing his cry, a worker carrying a white-wood cudgel came out through the gate and yelled, “You still have a sharp tongue!”

The old servant whose beard and whiskers had been singed said, “Don’t bother questioning him—just beat him! When the master gets up, we’ll ask him and hand the man over to the authorities.”

The workers rushed in together. Lin Chong, unable to resist, could only cry out, “Don’t hit me! I have something to say!”

Then a servant called out, “The master is coming!”

Lin Chong looked and saw a gentleman approaching with his hands clasped behind his back. He walked to the corridor and asked, “Whom are you beating here?”

“We caught a rice thief last night,” answered the workers.

The gentleman stepped forward for a closer look, recognized Lin Chong, hastily ordered the workers away, and personally untied him. “Instructor—how did you come to be strung up here?”

Seeing who it was—none other than Small Whirlwind Chai Jin—Lin Chong cried out urgently, “Master, save me!”

Chai Jin said, “How did you get here, only to suffer this indignity from village louts?”

“It’s a long story.”

They went inside and sat down, and Lin Chong told him the whole affair of the burning fodder depot. When he finished, Chai Jin sighed. “Brother, your luck has been bitter indeed! But heaven has granted you this chance. Rest easy—this is my eastern manor. Stay for a while, and we’ll decide what to do next.”

He ordered his workers to bring out a set of clothes, and made Lin Chong change from head to foot. Then he led him into the warm inner chamber and had wine and food laid out. And so Lin Chong stayed at Chai Jin’s eastern manor for five or seven days—but that is not our present concern.

Meanwhile, at the Cangzhou prison camp, the warden filed a report: Lin Chong had killed the guard, Lu Qian, and Fu An, and had burned down the great army fodder depot. The prefect was alarmed. He immediately issued warrants and sent constables through every village and town, posting notices everywhere offering three thousand strings of cash for the capture of the principal criminal Lin Chong. The hunt pressed hard, and word spread through all the villages.

Now when Lin Chong at Chai Jin’s eastern manor heard how urgent the pursuit had become, he waited until Chai Jin returned, then said, “It isn’t that you wouldn’t keep me, master—but the authorities are searching house by house. If they trace me to your manor, it would burden you badly. Since you have been so generous and righteous, I beg you to lend me a little traveling money so I can find shelter elsewhere. If I live through this, I will repay you like a dog or horse.”

Chai Jin said, “Since you must go, I know a place. I’ll write you a letter of introduction.” And indeed—

The hero stumbled, his fortune not yet ripe,
Every road he took became a cage.
But for Chai Jin’s letter of recommendation,
How would he win renown at Water Margin?

Lin Chong asked, “If you help me like this, I’ll have somewhere to rest my head. But where am I to go?”

“In Jizhou, Shandong, there is a watery region called Liangshan Marsh—eight hundred li around. In the middle stand Wancheng Fort and Liao’er Hollow. Three heroes have set up camp there. The chief is called White-Clad Scholar Wang Lun; the second, Touches-the-Sky Du Qian; the third, Cloud-Riding Vajra Song Wan. Those three have gathered seven or eight hundred men and rob travelers for a living. Many who have committed enormous crimes flee there to hide, and they take them all in. The three heroes are also close friends of mine—they often send letters. I’ll write one recommending you to join their band. What do you say?”

“If you would do that, nothing could be better.”

“But the road out of Cangzhou is guarded—the authorities have posted notices and sent two officers to search everyone passing through. You’d have to go by that road.” Chai Jin thought a moment. “I have a plan to get you past.”

“If you see me through this, I will never forget it even in death.”

That day Chai Jin first had a servant carry Lin Chong’s bundle out beyond the pass to wait. Then he prepared twenty or thirty horses, brought bows, arrows, banners, and spears, flew falcons, led hunting dogs—the whole party dressed for the hunt—and placed Lin Chong among them. All mounted up and rode toward the pass.

The officers on duty at the barrier saw Chai Jin coming and recognized him. In fact, before taking their posts, both had visited Chai Jin’s manor, so they knew him well. They rose and said, “Master, off for some sport again?”

Chai Jin dismounted. “And what are you two doing here?”

“The Cangzhou prefect has issued a warrant with your man’s portrait—we’re to catch the criminal Lin Chong. We’ve been ordered to question every traveler before letting him through.”

Chai Jin laughed. “In this party of mine I’ve smuggled Lin Chong along—how is it you don’t recognize him?”

The officer laughed too. “Master knows the law—you wouldn’t carry off a wanted man. Please, mount up and pass.”

Chai Jin smiled again. “If you trust me like that, I’ll bring back some game for you.” They parted, and the whole party rode through the barrier.

After traveling ten or fifteen li they met the servant waiting with Lin Chong’s bundle. Chai Jin had Lin Chong dismount, strip off the hunting clothes, and put on his own garments from the bundle—belted his saber, donned a red-tasseled felt cap, shouldered his pack, and took up his long sword. He bade Chai Jin farewell and set off alone.

As for Chai Jin’s party, they rode on to hunt, returned at dusk, passed through the barrier again with game for the officers, and went back to the manor. That is not our concern.

Now Lin Chong, after parting from Chai Jin, traveled more than ten days. It was deep winter—dense clouds gathered, the north wind blew hard, and snow began falling thickly over heaven and earth. He had walked barely twenty li when the ground lay white as silver. The old poet Wanyan Liang once wrote a lyric to this very scene:

Heaven’s wrath overturned the silver sea,
Scattering pearls and curtains everywhere.
Six-petaled flowers roll in drifts,
Filling the hills and valleys of the earth.
White tigers rage, pale unicorns run wild,
Snapping the cords of pearl necklaces.
Jade dragons battle, their scales fall through the sky.

Lin Chong trudged on through the snow. The cold bit sharply, and dusk was falling when he saw in the distance a tavern nestled against the lake, buried under the white drifts:

Silver veils the thatched cottages,
Jade covers the earthen eaves.
Old trees with gnarled branches,
A few small windows shut tight.
The thorn fence gleams like powdered paint,
The yellow walls are spread with lead-white wash.
Thousand willow catkins drift across the curtains,
Ten thousand goose feathers dance around the wine flag.

Lin Chong hurried to the tavern, pushed aside the reed curtain, and stepped inside. He glanced around at the seats, chose one, leaned his sword against the table, set down his bundle, took off his felt cap, and hung up his saber. A waiter came over. “How much wine, sir?”

“Two measures first.”

The waiter drew two measures from a cask and set them on the table.

“What do you have to go with it?”

“Raw or cooked beef, fat goose, tender chicken.”

“Slice me two catties of cooked beef.”

Before long the waiter brought out a great plate of beef, several dishes of vegetables, and a large bowl, pouring wine as he went. Lin Chong drank three or four bowls. Then he noticed a man in the tavern standing with hands clasped behind his back, looking out at the snow by the door.

“Who’s drinking?” the man asked the waiter.

Lin Chong studied him: a deep-brimmed warm cap, a coat of marten fur, boots of narrow-cut deer hide. He was tall and powerfully built, with high cheekbones and a forked yellow beard, stroking his chin as he watched the snow fall. Lin Chong called to the waiter to keep pouring.

“Waiter,” Lin Chong said, “come have a bowl yourself.”

The waiter drank one. Lin Chong asked, “How far is it to Liangshan Marsh from here?”

“Liangshan? It’s only a few li away, but there’s no road by land—only water. You’d need a boat to get across.”

“Can you find me a boat?”

“In this snow, and at this hour? Where would I look for one?”

“I’ll pay you well. Just find me something to cross on.”

“There’s nowhere to even try.”

Lin Chong thought to himself, What am I to do now? He drank several more bowls, and gloom crept into his heart. Suddenly he remembered: “In the capital I was an instructor, strolling the great avenues every day, drinking wherever I pleased. Who would have thought that scoundrel Gao Qiu would ruin me like this—branded on the face and banished here, so that I have a home I cannot return to, a country I cannot serve, left to suffer this loneliness!”

Grief stirred him, and he asked the waiter for brush and ink. In his cups, he wrote eight lines on the whitewashed wall:

Lin Chong keeps faith; plain and honest is his heart.
His name runs through the rivers and lakes,
His deeds shine in the capital.
His life drifts like a broken reed,
His fame spins like a tumbleweed.
If ever fortune turns his way,
He’ll shake the lands east of Mount Tai.

He set down the brush and called for more wine.

As he drank, the man in the fur coat stepped forward and seized Lin Chong around the waist. “You’ve got nerve! You committed an enormous crime in Cangzhou, and here you sit! The authorities have offered three thousand strings for your head—what do you intend to do about it?”

“Who do you take me for?” asked Lin Chong.

“Aren’t you Panther Head Lin Chong?”

“My name is Zhang.”

The man laughed. “Don’t lie to me. Your name is written on the wall there, and the golden brand is on your face. How can you deny it?”

“So you really mean to arrest me?”

The man laughed again. “Arrest you? For what? Come inside with me—I have something to say.”

He released his grip, and Lin Chong followed him to a water pavilion at the rear. The man had the waiter light a lamp, then exchanged bows with Lin Chong and sat down across from him.

“Just now I saw you asking about the road to Liangshan and looking for a boat. That’s a bandit stronghold—what business do you have there?”

“To be honest with you: the authorities are hunting me hard, and I have nowhere to hide. I meant to join the heroes at that stronghold.”

“Even so, someone must have recommended you to them.”

“An old friend from Heng-hai Commandery in Cangzhou sent me.”

“Would that be Small Whirlwind Chai Jin?”

“How do you know that name?”

“Chai Jin is close with the chiefs of the mountain—letters pass between them often.”

It turned out that when Wang Lun had failed the examinations, he and Du Qian had fled to Chai Jin’s manor, where Chai Jin sheltered them for some time. When they left, he gave them silver for the road. Thus he was their benefactor.

Hearing this, Lin Chong bowed at once. “I have eyes but did not recognize Mount Tai! May I ask your name?”

The man returned the bow hastily. “I am called Zhu Gui, a scout under Chief Wang Lun. I’m from Yishui County in Yizhou. In the rivers and lakes they call me Dry-Land Crocodile. The mountain set me here to run this tavern as a cover, to keep watch on travelers passing by. If any rich merchant comes along, I report to the stronghold. Lone travelers without money—I let them pass. Those with valuables: at the least, I drug their wine and rob them; at worst, I finish them off on the spot, slice the lean meat into jerky, and render the fat for lamp oil. When I saw you asking about Liangshan so insistently, I held back. Then when you wrote your name on the wall—I’ve heard travelers from the Eastern Capital speak of your prowess. I never expected to meet you here today. And since Chai Jin’s letter recommends you, and your fame has spread across the seas, Chief Wang will surely give you a high place.”

He then had fish, meat, dishes, and wine brought out for them both. The two sat in the water pavilion drinking until midnight.

“How will I get a boat to cross?” Lin Chong asked.

“There are boats here—don’t worry. Sleep tonight, and at the fifth watch I’ll wake you and we’ll go together.”

They each retired.

When the fifth watch came, Zhu Gui called Lin Chong up. After washing and eating a little meat with a few cups of wine, while it was still dark, Zhu Gui opened the pavilion window and took out a magpie-patterned bow. He fitted an arrow that whistled as it flew—a signal arrow—and shot it toward the reeds across the channel.

“What does that mean?” asked Lin Chong.

“That’s the mountain’s signal. A boat will come shortly.”

Soon several bandits from the reed marshes across the water rowed a swift skiff over to the pavilion. Zhu Gui led Lin Chong aboard with his weapons and baggage. The men pushed off and rowed toward Golden Sands Beach. As they went, Lin Chong saw the full breadth of the eight-hundred-li Liangshan Marsh—truly a place that swallows men:

Waves rise like mountains, water meets the distant sky.
Tangled reeds mass like ten thousand spears,
Strange trees stand in ranks of swords and halberds.
The palisades by the moat are built of bones;
The bowls and ladles in the camp are made of skulls.
Flayed human skin covers the war drums,
Severed hair is braided into reins.
To block the government troops—countless forked channels;
To turn back enemies—endless trackless woods.
Cobblestones pile up like hills,
Bamboo spears bristle thick as rain.
Gloomy clouds gather over Broken-Gold Pavilion,
Killing intent rises before the Hall of Assembly.

The bandits brought the skiff to shore at Golden Sands Beach, and Zhu Gui and Lin Chong stepped onto land. A man carried Lin Chong’s bundle and weapons, and the two heroes climbed toward the stronghold. The other men rowed the boat back into a small inlet.

On shore, great trees stood thick as armfuls on either side, and halfway up the slope was Broken-Gold Pavilion. Beyond it rose a massive gate, lined with spears, swords, halberds, crossbows, and polearms, with logs and boulders piled for defense. A scout ran ahead to announce them. Passing through the gate, they walked between ranks of banners and weapons. Two more passes, and they reached the stronghold’s entrance. Lin Chong saw high mountains on every side, three formidable gates encircling a level clearing like a mirror, some three or five hundred paces square. The main gate faced the mountain pass, with side buildings on both flanks.

Zhu Gui led Lin Chong into the Hall of Assembly. On the central chair sat White-Clad Scholar Wang Lun; to his left sat Touches-the-Sky Du Qian; to his right, Cloud-Riding Vajra Song Wan. Zhu Gui and Lin Chong stepped forward and called out greetings. Lin Chong stood at Zhu Gui’s side while Zhu Gui announced:

“This is Instructor Lin Chong of the Imperial Guards in the Eastern Capital—eighty thousand strong. His nickname is Panther Head. The Marshal Gao Qiu framed him, and he was branded and exiled to Cangzhou. There the army fodder depot was burned, and he killed three men in the fight that followed. He fled to Master Chai Jin’s manor, where he was treated with great respect. Chai Jin has written a letter recommending him to join our band.”

Lin Chong took out the letter and handed it over. Wang Lun opened and read it, then invited Lin Chong to take the fourth seat, with Zhu Gui in fifth. He called for wine, and they drank three rounds while asking after Chai Jin’s health.

“He spends his days hunting outside the city for pleasure,” said Lin Chong.

Wang Lun made polite talk for a while, but inwardly he was thinking: “I am only a failed scholar who came here out of spite with Du Qian to become an outlaw. Then Song Wan joined us, and we gathered this many men. I have no great skill; Du Qian and Song Wan are only mediocre fighters. But this man is an instructor of the Imperial Guards—he must be a master of arms. If he sees through our lack of ability, he’ll take over by force. How could we stand against him? Better to make some excuse and send him down the mountain now, before he becomes a threat. It will be awkward with Chai Jin—I’ll have to forget his past kindness. But so be it.”

And indeed—

Where spirits do not match, no bond can grow;
Even when a hero comes, they will not keep him.
The scholar has always been jealous by nature,
And the Panther Head sighs in vain for a title.

Wang Lun ordered wine and food laid out and invited Lin Chong to feast with them all. When the meal was nearly done, he had a servant bring a tray with fifty taels of silver and two bolts of fine silk. Rising, Wang Lun said:

“Chai Jin recommended you to our humble stronghold, Instructor. But our provisions are short, our buildings shabby, our men few—I fear we would only hold you back, and that would look bad for everyone. Please accept this small gift and find a larger lair where you can rest easy. Do not take offense.”

Lin Chong replied: “Let me answer the three chiefs. I have come a thousand li to offer my name, ten thousand li to serve a master—trusting in Chai Jin’s recommendation to join your band. Though I am untalented, I beg you to accept me. I will fight to the death for you, without flattery or deceit. This would be the greatest fortune of my life. I did not come seeking silver—I ask only that you see this clearly.”

“This is a small place,” said Wang Lun. “How could we accommodate you? Don’t take it amiss.”

Zhu Gui saw what was happening and spoke up: “Brother, forgive me for speaking out of turn. Though our provisions are thin, we can borrow from the villages near and far. We have timber and water in plenty—even if we wanted a thousand rooms built, there’d be no trouble. This man comes recommended by Chai Jin himself—how can we send him away? And Chai Jin has done us many kindnesses. If he learns we turned his man away, it will shame us. Besides, this one is capable—he’ll surely earn his keep.”

Du Qian added: “What harm would one more man do the mountain? If you refuse him and Chai Jin hears of it, he’ll be angry, and we’ll look like ungrateful dogs. He helped us many times in the past, and now when he sends someone to us, we push him out the door?”

Song Wan too urged: “For Chai Jin’s sake, let him stay as a chief. Otherwise we show ourselves faithless, and every hero in the rivers and lakes will laugh at us.”

“Brothers, you don’t understand,” said Wang Lun. “He committed his crimes in Cangzhou, but now that he’s here, how do we know his heart? What if he’s come to spy out our strength?”

Lin Chong said, “I am a man under sentence of death—that is why I came to join you. Why doubt me?”

“Very well,” said Wang Lun. “If you are sincere about joining us, bring a ‘pledge head.’”

“I know my letters,” said Lin Chong readily. “Give me brush and paper and I’ll write it out.”

Zhu Gui laughed. “You’ve misunderstood, Instructor. When heroes join our band, the pledge is this: go down the mountain, kill someone, and bring back his head. Then no one will doubt you. That is a ‘pledge head.’”

“That’s not hard,” said Lin Chong. “I’ll go down and wait. My only worry is that no one passes by.”

Wang Lun set the terms: “I give you three days. If within three days you bring a pledge head, I’ll accept you into the band. If not—don’t blame me.”

Lin Chong agreed and went back to his room, deeply depressed:

Grief weighs him down; he cannot break it free,
How craftily Wang Lun has played this game!
Tomorrow dawn he seeks the mountain road—
Who knows what head will come his way?

That night the feast broke up. Zhu Gui said farewell and went back down to mind his tavern.

Lin Chong took his weapons and baggage, and a scout led him to a guest room for the night. At dawn he rose, ate some tea and rice, belted his saber, took up his halberd-sword, and had a scout guide him down the mountain. They crossed by boat and waited on a secluded path for travelers to pass. From morning to dusk he waited—but not one lone traveler came by. Discouraged, Lin Chong crossed back with the scout and returned to the stronghold.

“Where is your pledge head?” asked Wang Lun.

“No one passed today,” said Lin Chong. “I couldn’t get one.”

“If you have no pledge head tomorrow, there’s no place for you here.”

Lin Chong dared not answer. He went to his room, ate a little, and slept another night.

At dawn he rose early, ate breakfast with the scout, took up his sword, and came down again.

“Today let’s wait on the southern road,” said the scout.

The two hid in the woods there, but still no traveler appeared. At noon a party of some three hundred merchants passed together in a long column. Lin Chong dared not attack such a crowd; he watched them go by. He waited until dusk—still no lone traveler came.

“What rotten luck I have!” Lin Chong said to the scout. “Two days waiting, and not one solitary traveler passes. What am I to do?”

“Be patient, brother,” said the scout. “Tomorrow is the last day. We’ll wait on the eastern road.”

That night they went back up. Wang Lun asked, “And today’s pledge head?”

Lin Chong dared not answer—he only sighed.

Wang Lun laughed. “Nothing again, I suppose. I gave you three days; two are gone. If tomorrow brings nothing, don’t bother coming back to see me—just take yourself down the mountain and find some other place.”

Lin Chong returned to his room, sick at heart:

He broods like a dragon exiled from its sea,
Like a tiger trapped in barren fields.
Song Yu mourned autumn with streaming tears;
Jiang Yan lost his writing brush,
Xiang Yu regretted having no boat.
Gaozu was besieged at Xingyang,
Wu Zixu suffered at the Zhao Pass,
Cao Cao’s fleet burned on the Red Cliff,
Li Ling gazed from his tower, Su Wu was stranded in the desert.

That night Lin Chong looked up to heaven and sighed long. “I never thought that scoundrel Gao Qiu would ruin me like this—driven to wander until even heaven itself rejects me. Is my fate so bitter?”

He passed another night. At dawn he rose, ate some rice, tied his bundle, and left it in the room. He belted his saber, took up his sword, and went down with the scout across the water to wait on the eastern road.

“If I can’t get a pledge head today,” Lin Chong said, “I’ll have to go elsewhere to make my way.”

They hid in the woods along the eastern path as the sun climbed overhead. Still no one came.

The snow had stopped and the sky was clear; sunlight gleamed on the frozen ground. Lin Chong gripped his sword and said to the scout, “It looks like it’s hopeless again. I might as well take my things now while there’s still daylight and go somewhere else.”

The scout pointed. “Wait—there! A man is coming!”

Lin Chong looked and saw a figure approaching from the far slope. He breathed a sigh of relief. As the man drew closer, Lin Chong twitched his sword, then leaped out suddenly.

The man saw him, cried out in alarm, dropped his carrying pole, turned, and ran. Lin Chong gave chase but could not catch him—the fellow slipped around the hillside and vanished.

“Look at my luck!” Lin Chong said. “Three days I’ve waited, and the one man who finally comes gets away.”

“Even if you didn’t kill him,” said the scout, “this load of goods is worth something.”

“Carry it up to the mountain first. I’ll wait a little longer.”

The scout picked up the pole and headed out of the woods with it.

Just then another big man appeared around the slope. Seeing him, Lin Chong thought, Heaven has granted me this chance!

The man brandished his sword and shouted like thunder: “Thieves! Unkillable bandits! Where are you taking my luggage? I was just looking to catch you curs—and here you come pulling the tiger’s whiskers!” He rushed forward furiously.

Lin Chong saw the ferocity of his charge, braced himself, and stepped up to meet him.

And this man who came to fight Lin Chong would bring about great things: within Liangshan Marsh, new striped tigers would gather; in the Water Margin stronghold, new golden-eyed beasts would leap across the gorges. But who exactly it was who came to duel with Lin Chong—that you must hear in the next chapter.