Liu Zhang examined the lacquered cup with ear-shaped handles placed on the table. It was made with a wooden core, the inside coated in red lacquer and the outside in black. The decorative patterns were placed on the inner surface, the rim, and the twin handles.
The quality of the lacquered cup seemed rather good, but the cracks and varying textures on the surface silently told of its age. This was an old artifact, having passed through many hands. Due to the preciousness of lacquerware, it had eventually ended up in this roadside tavern, now used as a mere ornament.
The wine inside the cup was rural rice wine, not very clear, somewhat cloudy.
He picked up the cup and took a sip. The alcohol content was low, and the flavor rather weak.
Compared to the fine wines this body had once tasted, like the "Winter Brew" of Zhongshan or the "White Thin" of Guanzhong, it was far inferior. And compared to the many varieties of alcohol he had drunk in his previous life in the 21st century, the difference was even starker.
The world had changed; the drinks had changed too. Liu Zhang no longer savored it but drank it all in one go.
As the wine was finished, the bottom of the lacquered cup was revealed—painted in black cloud patterns on a red base, with the words "Jun Xing Jiu" (Wine of Your Grace) written in the center.
"Jun Xing Jiu." Liu Zhang savored the phrase and couldn't help but admire the romanticism of the Han people. Even a small roadside tavern had a refined inscription at the bottom of a repurposed cup, encouraging guests to drink more.
He turned his head to look outside the shop. This wine tavern had no walls to block the view; the side facing the street was just a low wooden fence.
This was a marketplace—in the city of Chengdu.
There were vendors selling wine, iron tools, and silk. Goods of every kind, stalls run by all sorts. The sounds of hawking and bargaining filled the air.
It truly was a bustling market. The Yellow Turban rebels who had plunged the empire into chaos had not disturbed the land of Bashu for long; they had been subdued by Jia Long, an official in Yizhou. Thus, while the rest of the empire was in turmoil, Bashu remained peaceful as a mountain.
Looking at this stable and harmonious Han Dynasty marketplace, Liu Zhang's eyes became a bit dazed.
He was not a native of the Han Dynasty. More precisely, the soul inside this body did not belong to this era. He was from the 21st century.
In his previous life, he was a typical office worker. One night, after working overtime until the early hours, he was hit and killed on the road by a runaway truck.
His body was destroyed, but his soul crossed over to the late Eastern Han Dynasty and possessed the body of Liu Zhang—courtesy name Jiyu—the fourth son of Liu Yan, the governor of Yizhou.
He had time-traveled.
Thanks to his adaptable nature, Liu Zhang accepted this new reality fairly quickly and assessed his current situation.
The current year was the first year of Xingping.
The previous governor of Yizhou, Liu Yan—his adoptive father—had just passed away. The powerful officials of Yizhou, such as Zhao Wei, the army adviser, and Wang Shang, the administrative officer, chose the weak-willed Liu Zhang to succeed the position and sent a memorial to the court.
Yizhou, one of the thirteen provinces of the Han Empire, was populous and wealthy, renowned as the "Land of Abundance." In this era of chaos, becoming its governor meant holding power akin to that of a regional warlord.
"But this seat of governor isn't so easy to sit on," Liu Zhang mused bitterly. He felt like he was sitting on the mouth of a volcano that could erupt at any time.
Internally, he had an elder brother, Liu Mao. According to traditional hierarchy, Liu Mao should have inherited the post, not Liu Zhang.
Externally, the Yizhou officials didn't genuinely support Liu Zhang—they had chosen him because he was seen as weak and easy to control.
Then there was the conflict between locals and migrants. His father Liu Yan had heavily relied on people from the east—those who had fled war in Nanyang and Guanzhong—and this had caused great friction with the local gentry of Yizhou.
These eastern migrants, having lost their homeland and living in unfamiliar lands, were anxious and vulnerable. Liu Yan had taken them in as his followers. With no better options, they naturally rallied around him.
To consolidate his position, Liu Yan used these outsiders to suppress the local scholars, which led to irreconcilable tensions between the two groups.
As a fan of the Three Kingdoms, Liu Zhang clearly remembered that in the fifth year of Jian'an, the tension exploded into a massive rebellion that nearly destroyed the entire region.
Liu Zhang felt a headache coming on. Yizhou was full of landmines. If he wanted to survive and maintain his position, he had to resolve these issues—otherwise, he might die without even knowing how it happened.
A youthful voice interrupted his thoughts: "Young Master, what's so good about this countryside rice wine? It's nothing compared to the Turbid Clear back at the manor."
Turning to his left, Liu Zhang looked at Pang Que—a delicate-looking boy and son of Pang Jing, a key steward at the governor's residence. Since Liu Zhang had arrived in Yizhou in the second year of Chuping, Pang Que had been serving him.
The "Turbid Clear" he referred to was a renowned Bashu wine. Having tasted it, the boy naturally looked down on rustic brews.
Liu Zhang smiled, shook his head, and gently tapped Pang Que's head. "You're too young to understand. I'm not drinking wine—I'm drinking relationships and social reality."
Sitting in a tavern, sipping wine and observing the lives of people in this era brought a unique pleasure to Liu Zhang. He needed to understand this world deeply.
Across the street, two delicate young girls were browsing at a silk stall. One seemed to be the master, the other a maid. The master was negotiating with the vendor over a piece of elegant Shu brocade.
Some things, it seemed, never changed across time—bargaining between buyers and sellers remained a constant.
Just then, two new patrons entered the tavern. The first was a strong man dressed in blue official robes. He was fair-skinned and beardless, with a commanding presence. His broad body stretched his loose robes taut.
Liu Zhang couldn't help but admire—what a formidable man.
The man's companion was lean, wearing short clothing and a bamboo hat.
They found a quiet corner, warmed two pots of wine, and began to chat casually.
Though a bit far away, Liu Zhang, with his keen ears, could make out snatches of their conversation. The lean man spoke in a coaxing tone:
"Chief, the brothers miss you dearly."
"Better to enjoy life in Ba Commandery than serve like a lackey in Chengdu."
The term "chief" surprised Liu Zhang. This burly official in blue had once led a militant group in Ba Commandery but had come to Chengdu to serve in office.
The lean man seemed to be trying to persuade his former leader to return to his old ways and lead the brothers to fortune again.
Was this still the Eastern Han? The conversation reminded Liu Zhang of the Water Margin—where bandits repeatedly begged Song Jiang to return to their cause.
The lean man continued, lowering his voice: "The new governor of Yizhou is Liu Zhang. I hear he's timid and incompetent. You'll never rise under his command."
"Ajiu, you think I don't know?" the burly man replied, downing a cup of wine with a sigh. "But my mother disapproves of my wandering ways." At this, he fell silent and just drank, his expression showing hesitation.
Liu Zhang couldn't help but smile wryly. Hearing gossip about himself while drinking—he had become the cautionary tale. He didn't bother explaining himself, just took another sip of wine. But the thought lingered—he couldn't let the "timid and incompetent" label stick, or no one would ever support him.
Suddenly, a commotion outside the tavern interrupted the moment. A young girl's crisp voice rang out, like a yellow oriole: "Please show some respect, Captain."
Everyone in the tavern turned to look out at the street.
Five men, wearing military headgear and scarlet single robes, had blocked the path of the two girls who had just bought brocade.
The leader showed no intention of respecting her, speaking lewdly: "Such a sweet voice, girl. Don't call me Captain—say 'General' for me."
The four men behind him laughed boisterously.
Easterners—from Guanzhong. Liu Zhang recognized their accent. Just as he had been thinking about the issue of eastern migrants, here they were.
His father Liu Yan had been far too lenient with them. Now they roamed the streets brazenly in broad daylight, bullying the locals.
No wonder, in the fifth year of Jian'an, local ministers like Zhao Wei could easily incite rebellion, nearly costing Liu Zhang his life.
Where there is oppression, there is resistance. The locals had endured this for too long.
Liu Zhang sighed and prepared to stand. He couldn't let this continue. If he wanted a peaceful life, he had to act.
Just then, the blue-robed "chief" smashed the table with one palm and roared toward the street.
"Scoundrels! How dare you!"