The spring rain of the third month fell in a fine unbroken drizzle. It was the kind of rain that blessed both army and field alike, soft enough not to hinder marching troops, yet steady enough to nourish the tender shoots just breaking through the earth. Soldiers found their steps lighter beneath it, and common folk watched the darkening soil with hope that grew thicker by the day.
In Zigui, no one had laid eyes on Liu Huangshu in person yet. Even so, his reputation had already arrived ahead of him and proven he kept every promise he made.
By the middle of the second month, officials from Jingzhou had reached the county under military escort, moving from village to village to walk locals through every step of proper spring cultivation.
At first, Master Li had paid them little mind. These so-called agrarian officials looked nothing like the bureaucrats he had known back in the north. No tall court caps, no elegant hairpins, no white brush pens tucked behind their ears as marks of status. Their clothes were plain, their sleeves rolled high, their trouser caked with mud. Standing in the fields, they looked no different from Zhao A, who was currently knee-deep in wet earth tending to seedlings.
Could men like this even be called officials? Back in Yanzhou, even the servants of great clans carried themselves with more arrogance.
Those doubts melted away faster than frost under sun. Whether they were talking about choosing grain seeds, timing the soaking and sprouting process, transplanting young rice shoots, or layering compost pits correctly, these men spoke with total ease and certainty. No hesitation, no empty posturing, only the confidence of people who had done every bit of this work with their own hands.
The turning point came when one of them, a white-haired old man surnamed Guo, mentioned offhand that his own fields in Gong'an produced 3.5 dan per mu.
From that second on, Master Li and Zhao A changed how they addressed him immediately.
"Excellency Guo."
The old man nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Don't, don't call me that," Old Guo said in a hurry, waving both hands. "I'm just an old farmer from Gong'an. What sort of excellency could I ever be?"
Standing on the ridge between the fields, Old Guo pointed toward the river in the distance.
"This place is a lot like Gong'an. It sits right by the Great River, and the soil is good once it gets steady water."
His lined face lit up as he spoke.
"Once Young Master Jiang finishes building the water-driven workshops, you'll see the difference. No more hauling buckets on your shoulders from dawn to dusk. The great wheel will pull water straight from the Yangtze and feed it right into the channels."
He swept an arm over the fields spread out before them.
"Give it a year or two, and all this land will be prime farmland."
When he talked about it, Gong'an sounded like something close to paradise. Machines took over backbreaking human labor, water flowed where people needed it, fields gave rich harvests, and officials actually came out to the countryside to teach common folk without a shred of condescension.
Zhao A could barely wrap his head around it.
"Old Guo, if you came all this way to help us plant, what happens to your own land?"
Old Guo laughed, completely unconcerned.
"My eldest son got work in the paper workshop last year. He brings home good money every month, so we hired two laborers for the spring planting."
He added, almost as an afterthought,
"Besides, Military Advisor Zhuge is paying me for this trip."
Both Master Li and Zhao A froze. Paying him? Actually paying someone to travel and teach farmers how to work their land better?
For a long stretch, neither of them could find words. Finally, Zhao A voiced the worry that had sat heavy in his chest for months.
"Old Guo... aren't you scared the northern armies will come?"
The old man paused, then burst into loud, hearty laughter.
"Hahaha...Scared of what?"
He slapped his thigh.
"Last year some Cao general came, that Yue fellow, tried to invade. General Guan Yunchang smashed him flat at Jiangling."
His eyes shone with absolute, unshakable faith.
"Those 6,000 surrendered troops are still there right now, building city walls."
He leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.
"Everyone in Gong'an says General Guan Yunchang has no equal under heaven."
Master Li said nothing. He had fled south from Yanzhou, seen the terrifying might of Cao Cao's armies with his own eyes. He had heard people say the victory at Red Cliffs was nothing but a stroke of rotten luck for Cao Cao. Even so, looking at Old Guo's calm, sure face, Zhao A felt a sharp, warm spark of longing rise in his chest. He envied Guo's hired laborers, the steady ways to earn a living in Gong'an, the safety the old man took for granted.
If Zigui stays under Liu Huangshu's rule, Zhao A thought, could I end up living like this Old Guo one day?
---
Gan Gui was born for the river, and he carried the chaos of the current in every bone. He leaned against the rail of his skiff, spinning a silver dagger between his fingers like it was a toy, his hair a tangled mess in the wind and a grin sharp enough to slice rope plastered across his face.
Behind him, his crew bickered like old friends who had spent too many years stealing wine and breaking heads together. Old Man Liu, their one-eyed navigator, spat over the side and squinted at the Dantu docks creeping into view.
"These walls look older than Qin dynasty mud. Give me one good storm and they'll fall apart from shame. Save us the trouble of breaking 'em down."
Big Nose Zhang, their axe-wielding bruiser, sharpened his weapon so hard sparks skittered across the deck, his voice loud enough to scare fish for miles. "Good! I'll be first through the gate when we come back to burn this place to the ground! I'll split the first soldier I see right down the middle!"
"You'll be first to get a boot up the arse if you don't stop waving that axe around my wine," Lao Zheng grunted, shoving him aside with a scarred shoulder. The old veteran had fought alongside Gan Ning back in the river raiding days, and he knew arguing with Big Nose Zhang was dumber than arguing with a stubborn mule. "Go sharpen it by the mast. You're getting metal dust in my cup."
A'Shan, their jittery young carpenter and engineer, sweated through his tunic as he tweaked the prototype ballista bolted to the bow. A'Hei, their terrified scribe, clutched his bamboo slips so tight his knuckles turned white, already mentally preparing to write down whatever ridiculous, curse-filled rant his captain would spout next. He still had nightmares about the three-page rant Gan Gui had made him write about a Wei general's terrible hat fashion sense.
Favorable currents and a lifetime of cheating the river brought them to Dantu in barely two days. The second the skiff was tied up, Gan Gui hopped ashore, tossing the rope to Old Man Liu without looking.
"Guard the boat, boys. I don't care if the Marquis of Wu himself comes down here wearing a crown and crying about owning the river. Nobody touches our good wine. If any of these soft Sun Wu soldiers try to steal it, break their fingers, then tell them I'm very disappointed in their terrible life choices."
"Where you going, Captain?" A'Hei called, already scribbling on his slips.
"To collect what's mine."
"What's yours?"
Gan Gui glanced back with an innocent, mischievous grin.
"My inheritance. And also maybe my father's dignity. He's clearly not using it anymore."
He turned and sauntered off before A'Hei could ask what that meant.
He headed straight for a house he knew better than the back of his own hand. A silver bell still hung beside the gate, just as he remembered. Gan Gui stopped, gave it a fond little tap, and listened to its chime like it was an old friend greeting him.
Then he kicked the door open so hard the frames rattled.
"Old man! Your favorite, most handsome, most talented son has returned! I expect wine, cheers, and a speech about how lucky you are to have fathered such a genius!"
In the main hall, Gan Ning sat wrapped in a luxurious silk robe, a cup of warmed wine in his hand. The noise made him look up, and for a split second real joy flashed across his face before he buried it under a stern scowl.
"You didn't come home for the New Year."
Gan Gui sauntered in like he owned the place, waving a hand dismissively. "I was busy. Very important captain business."
"Too busy to visit your own father?"
"Extremely busy. Ships had to be fixed, sailors had to be yelled at, wine had to be tested for poison, and someone had to stop Zhang Fei from teaching the whole army to drink themselves unconscious before noon. It's a heavy burden, being the responsible one."
Gan Ning stared at him.
Gan Gui smiled wider.
"Besides, everyone knows a son shouldn't visit too often. The old man might start thinking he's loved. Can't have that. It'll go to your head."
Gan Ning's stern mask cracked for half a heartbeat.
Gan Gui immediately stole the cup from his hand and drained it in one go.
He smacked his lips, then stared at the empty cup like it had personally insulted him.
"What in the river hell is this swill? It tastes like the Marquis of Wu's courage, weak, watery, and somehow still convinced it's impressive. You used to drink wine that could strip paint off a ship. Now you're sipping this? Bathwater has more bite."
Gan Ning poured himself another cup, hiding a faint twitch of amusement.
"You seem to be doing well under Liu Bei."
"Better than you're doing here, that's for damn sure." Gan Gui leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, his playful tone sharpening just a little. "You used to command the whole river. Enemy generals would shit their armor just hearing your name. Now you're sitting in Dantu wearing fancy silk and drinking wine that tastes like dishwater. When did you become respectable? I liked you better when everyone thought you were a dangerous pirate."
Gan Ning raised an eyebrow. "Respectable?"
"Well, comparatively. You haven't threatened to hang anyone from the mast in, what, a whole month? Disappointing."
Gan Gui's gaze drifted past his father, landing on the old brocade sail hanging on the wall. It was a relic from Yizhou, a treasure Gan Ning had polished every single day back after Red Cliffs, like the faded fabric held all the fire of the man he used to be.
Now it was thick with dust.
The grin slipped off Gan Gui's face for a second.
Neither man spoke for a long stretch. Gan Ning took another slow drink of his terrible wine.
Then, quietly, he said, "That sail... if you think you can put it to better use, take it."
Gan Gui blinked. Then his sharp grin came back, slow and greedy.
"Fine. I'll take the sail." He paused, tilting his head. "And the 800 guards stationed at the west dock."
Gan Ning stared at him.
"And Uncle Gan's old river raiders. The ones who still know how to fight instead of polishing their fancy robes for court parties."
Gan Ning kept staring.
Gan Gui spread his hands innocently. "What? You said I could take what I can put to better use. I'm just being a dutiful son, saving valuable things from gathering dust. It's practically filial piety. You should be proud."
Gan Ning let out a low, rough laugh. "Take them all."
Gan Gui's grin faded. That was too easy. Far too easy. He narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious.
"No lecture about loyalty to the Marquis? No speech about filial duty? No trying to convince me Sun Quan is the greatest thing to walk beneath heaven since rice wine?"
"No."
"Nothing? Not even a complaint about me stealing your men?"
"Nothing."
Gan Gui studied his father for another long moment, trying to spot the trick.
"Eight hundred men would draw too much attention anyway," Gan Xingba said flatly. "The Marquis of Sun has decided to move the capital to Moling. When we depart in April, I'll send them straight to Jiangling to find you."
Gan Gui's confusion was plain. "Moling? Moving the capital? Why? Is the Marquis scared of his own shadow now? Did someone tell him Jingzhou has cooties?"
Gan Ning ignored the jab, continuing like he hadn't heard a word. "When we relocate in the fourth month, I'll send the men directly to Jiangling."
"Take the silver bell from the gate with you too," he added, his voice tired and empty, like he had already given up on this place. "Since you've joined Liu Bei, don't hang around Dantu longer than you have to. Get back to Jiangling fast. And tell the Governor of Jingzhou..."
His jaw tightened.
"Prepare for war with Sun Wu."
He didn't wait for questions, just waved his son away, claiming he was exhausted and needed sleep. Standing alone in the courtyard, Gan Gui spun his dagger again, his playful mask slipping as he turned the words over in his head. He could feel the tangled mess of his father's emotions under the flat tone, and the heavy expectation laid on his shoulders.
What the hell had happened here?
Gan Gui was no fool, for all his silly jokes and cursed rants. The Gan family traced its line back to Gan Mao and Gan Luo, scholars all. His rough, loud, river-bred ways were just how he survived, not a sign he lacked sense.
Moving the capital to Moling? He narrowed his eyes. Moling would let Sun Quan keep the powerful Wu clans on a leash while staying free of their meddling. Doing it so soon after Zhou Yu's death could only mean the local clans were kicking up trouble again.
But moving the capital further from Jingzhou should mean more peace, not less. Yet his father was warning of war. Zhou Yu, the war-hungry fool who hated Liu Bei more than anything, was dead. Lu Su, the moderate soft touch who liked to talk about alliances, was at Sun Quan's side. Why would war be coming?
His mind raced, and then the answer clicked.
Lü Meng.
If Zhou Yu's death had opened the door, Lü Meng had just sauntered right through it. That bastard and his father had hated each other for years, never agreed on a single thing. If Lü Meng was getting full command now, his father's worst fear was real. Sun Quan would push Gan Ning to the side, only care about his strength as a fighter, and ignore every bit of strategy and sense the old pirate had.
The fate of the whole Gan clan settled on his shoulders all at once. For the first time in years, Gan Gui felt the sharp press of urgency. The family was counting on him now. He needed to win merit, become someone Liu Bei couldn't afford to lose, get strong enough to yank his father out of this rotting court before it ate him alive.
But first, he needed those battleship blueprints.
Luckily, the designs for Eastern Wu's giant ships were easy to get. They weren't proper warships half the time, just floating palaces for the Marquis to show off. Using his father's name and a few old river connections, plus a little well-timed lie about being sent to inspect the fleet, Gan Gui got his hands on the full plans by the next day.
He packed the dusty brocade sail and the silver bell carefully, bowed three times deep toward his father's study where the old man pretended to sleep, then turned and walked away without looking back.
He found his crew waiting by the skiff, Big Nose Zhang already trying to start a fight with a group of Sun Wu soldiers who had stared too long. Lao Zheng was holding him back by the collar, Old Man Liu was laughing, and A'Shan was hiding behind the ballista.
"Captain!" A'Hei called, waving his slips. "Did you get your inheritance?"
Gan Gui grinned, tossing the silver bell up and catching it.
"Better. We got 800 new men, a war to fight, and a whole fleet of Sun Wu ships to burn."
Big Nose Zhang whooped so loud birds flew off the docks. "War! I knew it! I'll split the first general I see in half!"
"First, we get back to Jiangling," Gan Gui said, hopping onto the bow and grabbing the rigging, his grin sharp and wild as the river wind. "Then we make those Sun Wu bastards regret ever looking at our river wrong. And someone bring me wine that's actually spicy! This Dantu swill is for cowards and nobles who can't fight their way out of a paper bag!"
As the skiff pulled away from the docks, Gan Gui glanced back at the house where his father sat. He spun his dagger once more, his grin softening just a little.
Don't worry, old man, he thought. I'll come back for you. And when I do, we'll burn this whole rotten court to the ground together.
---
Far to the north, Cao Cao finally got the first piece of good news he had heard in months.
Zhou Yu was dead.
Everything else, though, was enough to make his blood boil. Liu Bei had secured Nan Commandery. The spy reports coming out of Jingzhou grew more alarming with every dispatch. Water-powered workshops. Mass grain movements. Military engineering projects. And the reports of Yue Jin's heavy losses.
How had Liu Bei become dangerous again this fast?
Cao Cao narrowed his eyes. No, he thought, I have to strike Yongzhou and Liangzhou first.
He saw the strategic board perfectly clear. If he ignored the northwest and marched south against Sun Wu, Liu Bei would use that breathing room to cement his hold on Jiangling and push into Yizhou.
From there, Liu Bei could take Hanzhong, sweep down into the Guanzhong plains, and walk the same path Gaozu, the First Emperor of Han, had taken. If that happened, the game was over before it even really began.
So he had to seize Guanzhong, Hanzhong, and Yizhou before Liu Bei could get his hands on any of them.
Before winter's last chill had fully faded, mobilization orders were already moving from east to west across his domains.
---
By mid-March, Ma Chao, far away in Liangzhou, got news from the east. Zhong Yao, Colonel of Sili, was leading General Xiahou Yuan through the Guanzhong passes to attack Zhang Lu in Hanzhong.
Faced with this massive threat, the various warlords of Guanzhong set aside their grudges for the moment to talk strategy. Yang Qiu didn't even bother with a long, careful analysis.
He thought Cao Cao was insulting their intelligence.
"This is obviously the Borrowing a Path to Conquer Guo trick!"
The others agreed immediately. Their book learning might be thin, but their sense for tactics was sharp. Cao Cao said he was attacking Hanzhong, but who could promise he would not turn on them halfway? What if he allied with Zhang Lu to crush them? What if he took Hanzhong first, then hit them with a pincer attack from east and south at once?
For the Guanzhong warlords, agreeing to Cao Cao's request was never even an option. The room rang with shouting, and while men like Zhang Heng and Liang Xing yelled their opinions, their eyes kept drifting back to the general sitting at the head of the table.
Ma Chao, Ma Mengqi.
He sat perfectly still, gaze fixed on the ceiling beams. At that moment, he looked like his mind was a thousand miles away.
When the shouting died down, Yang Qiu burst out, "General Ma, are you worried about your father, the Commandant of the Guard? Do you mean to surrender to Cao?"
Everyone knew Ma Teng had gone to the imperial court and been named Commandant of the Guard, little more than a hostage in all but name.
Ma Mengqi's gaze finally snapped into focus. He answered with a question of his own. "General Yang, since you can see Cao Cao is using this trick to swallow us all, what do you think I should do?"
Before Yang Qiu could answer, Ma Mengqi laid out the choice plain and simple. "If I rise in rebellion, I lose my name for filial piety. If I surrender, I lose my integrity. Tell me, General Yang, if you were in my place, what would you pick?"
Is this really Ma Mengqi talking? Yang Qiu and Zhang Heng exchanged confused looks.
They had come here to talk Ma Chao into rebelling. Why did it sound like he was trying to talk them into surrendering instead?
This was far too cold, far too calculating.
"General Ma..." Yang Qiu started, then found he had no words left. The three generals felt like they were looking at a ghost.
The ambitious, hot-headed Ma Chao everyone knew was gone. Even in the middle of this crisis, he was calmly telling them to go persuade Han Sui first.
Once everyone else had left, Ma Chao pulled out a letter from Liu Bei and read it one more time, a cold sneer on his face. Liu Huangshu was not wrong. If Cao Cao invaded Guanzhong, what did it really matter to him? The old man and his whole family were already in Cao Cao's hands anyway. If Cao Mengde came, he was almost certainly coming to destroy Han Sui first.
He would let Yang Qiu and the others run off to persuade Han Sui, then wait for Han Sui to come crawling to beg for his help. As for Liu Bei's suggestion in the letter, that he temporarily submit to Cao Cao until Liu Bei secured Yizhou and Hanzhong, then wait for a chance to restore the Han... that was just pedantic nonsense.
Why couldn't the restoration of the Han be done by him, Ma Chao? He was a descendant of the great General Ma Yuan, after all.
Once he goaded Han Sui into defeating Cao Cao and rescued the Emperor, and if the old man was lucky enough to still be breathing when it was all over, he would see if his father still dared call him a bastard son.
Ma Chao tightened his fist, crushed the letter into a tight ball, and tossed it straight into the brazier. He sat watching it burn to ash without moving a muscle.