Jian Yong and his companions drew their horses to the side of the road, pulling their pack animals clear to let the old man's family pass.
As the two groups crossed, Jian Yong quietly took in their condition. A single donkey dragged along a few battered pieces of furniture. The wife muttered under her breath without pause. Two daughters walked in silence, their faces chapped raw by the wind. Only the youngest child still carried a trace of stubborn innocence in his eyes.
Jian Yong recalled the old man's words from earlier. Two sons, two daughters. The meaning behind it weighed on him.
"Young sir, if you're heading into Guanzhong, you'd best put on a few more layers!" the old man called over his shoulder.
Jian Yong raised his voice in thanks.
The cold was deepening with each passing day. He could already feel it creeping into his bones. By his reckoning, Han Sui, Ma Chao, and Cao Cao would have to settle things before the first snow. Otherwise, it would unfold just as the old man had said. Han Sui and Ma Chao held the advantage on their own ground, but Cao Cao was not one to march without confidence in victory. Neither side would yield. Neither side had the luxury to.
What Jian Yong did not expect was that, only a few days later, before he had even passed through the Baoxie Road, he would run straight into a wave of routed soldiers.
Had he been traveling alone with nothing but a worn horse, those men would have shown him what chaos looked like in a lawless land. But Jian Yong had always been careful. His escort was small, yet every man had been drawn from Chen Dao's own ranks. They spoke little, moved with purpose, and their hands never strayed far from their blades.
Jian Yong spoke a few gentle words, his tone easing. The routed soldiers quickly grew more willing to talk.
"Cao Gong has been defeated. But General Ma… he has also been defeated."
Jian Yong frowned. This was not an outcome he had anticipated.
"What happened? And General Han Sui?"
As he spoke, he pressed a few flat cakes into their hands. The soldiers' expressions softened at once.
"Sir, you do not understand. General Ma and General Han… they started fighting each other."
Jian Yong was taken aback. "What? Were Han Sui and Ma Chao not allies?"
The soldiers looked miserable, as though their present state was owed entirely to their own commanders.
"At first, we fought Cao Gong, and we won. But later… General Han and General Ma, we do not know why, but they turned on each other. Then Cao Gong marched out and struck. Both were defeated. And we… we ended up like this."
Their account was disjointed, but Jian Yong could already see the outline. Before he set out, the strategists had discussed several possible outcomes. Ma Mengqi was a man of fierce ambition. Han Sui was no different.
Two men with such ambition could not truly cooperate. Han Sui had raised the allied army, while Ma Chao joined later. Who held command over whom had never been clearly settled.
Pang Tong had once summed it up with a faint smile. "Just as later generations put it. Two wolves joining hands to fight a tiger. Han Sui and Ma Chao are starving wolves, forced together when a tiger steps into their territory. But Cao Mengde is a tiger that thinks for itself."
Jian Yong shook his head. "Two wolves who cannot see beyond their own noses."
Before the two strategists had entered their lord's service, Jian Yong and Mi Zhu had often taken on such matters themselves. The habit of weighing situations had never left him. As things stood, Cao Cao had not yet lost his strength, while the two wolves had already turned on each other, scrambling for spoils before the prey was even brought down.
Yet, in its own way, this presented an opening. It gave Jian Yong room to make use of his tongue, to move between the three sides and carve out a path for his lord. Besides, he still remembered the last time he had seen Ma Chao, proud and adorned in fine silks. It was not quite a grudge, but he would very much like to see what the so-called Jin Ma Chao looked like now.
In a quiet corner of his thoughts, he even found himself rooting for Cao Cao. A man like Ma Mengqi, who looked down on the world, deserved a hard lesson. Only after being beaten would he be willing to listen.
"Move faster," Jian Yong said, casting those thoughts aside.
The decision was already made. Once he reached Guanzhong and sent off the letter, he would head straight for Yongzhou-Liangzhou and seek out Ma Mengqi in person.
The people of Chengdu had been busy for months. Roads were being repaired, river channels dredged, and houses on the verge of collapse finally tended to. But what truly stirred the old residents was something else entirely. The Imperial Uncle himself had led more than a hundred men to the Dujiangyan works and declared that he would oversee the repairs in person.
Chengdu had not seen such a sight in years. Perhaps not in living memory.
"General Zhang, come up and rest a while. Have some tea," a commoner called from the bank.
Down in the channel, a broad-shouldered man stood bare to the waist, clad only in a pair of short trousers, driving his shovel into the mud again and again. It was Zhang Fei. For speaking out of turn before his elder brother, he had been sent here to labor, waist-deep in river silt.
Yet Zhang Fei bore no resentment. Liu Bei had called it punishment, but he himself was clearing channels near Dujiangyan. Even Zizhong was occupied, working alongside Liu Ba day and night, said to be planning the official markets.
Zhang Fei had never been one to shrink from hard work. He hoisted another basket of foul-smelling silt onto his shoulder and climbed back up the bank. Only then did he glance at his hands and feel a flicker of embarrassment.
"Old man, just leave the tea on that stone. I am filthy. I will foul the air before I even take a sip."
The commoner stepped closer without hesitation. "General Zhang, what are you saying? We ought to be thanking you for clearing this channel. As for the smell, we live with it every day."
Before Zhang Fei could refuse, the old man caught his hands and pressed the bowl into them.
Caught in the man's insistence, Zhang Fei drank it down in one long swallow, leaves and all. The old man snatched the bowl back, filled it again, and thrust it into his hands. Zhang Fei met his eager gaze and drained it a second time.
"Enough, enough! I'm full!"
He sat down on the embankment to catch his breath. When he looked up, he found himself surrounded. Most were elderly or women. The able-bodied men of Chengdu were all at work, many of them in the channel below, shoveling the same mud alongside him.
Under so many watchful eyes, Zhang Fei felt a rare discomfort. He cleared his throat and spoke in a rough voice. "Old man, the government has posted many notices these days. If there is anything you do not understand, I can explain it."
In recent weeks, Kongming, Pang Tong, and Fa Xiaozhi had been drafting policy after policy. Each was posted publicly, with clerks sent to explain their contents to the people. Liu Bei and his advisors believed the measures were clear, but so many changes at once could easily confuse ordinary folk.
From the very beginning, Liu Bei had given strict orders. If the people had questions, they were to be answered until there was no confusion left. At the very least, matters within Chengdu had to run smoothly. Only when the capital understood could the rest of the province follow.
The old man who had brought Zhang Fei his tea waved his hands awkwardly. "General, I would not dare call myself your student, but there is only one thing this old man wishes to ask."
Zhang Fei leaned closer and listened.
The old man hesitated, then spoke slowly. "I only wish to ask… my eldest son was conscripted, and the former governor sent him away to that man surnamed Cao. Now that the Imperial Uncle has come, can my son return home?"
Zhang Fei opened his mouth, but no words came.
He looked around at the gathered faces, the old women and the young wives, and understood at once. Those who had been sent away were their sons, their husbands, their fathers.
Zhang Fei was no stranger to matters of war. His thoughts drifted back to Red Cliffs. At the time, when Zhou Gongjin and the others had been discussing Cao Cao's forces, someone had mentioned in passing that Liu Zhang had sent a contingent from Yizhou to Cao Cao. Only a few thousand men, nothing enough to sway a battle. It had been a minor detail, quickly forgotten amid everything that followed. If not for this question, Zhang Fei would never have recalled it.
But now…
"At the latest, by next year, my elder brother will take Hanzhong."
"When the road into Guanzhong is opened, your eldest son… he will return."
Return under what condition? If he still lived. Yet even as the thought formed, it felt unbearably thin.
The old man received those words as if they were an imperial decree of pardon. He bowed again and again in gratitude, until Zhang Fei felt the weight of it pressing against his chest.
After offering a few more words, Zhang Fei quickly climbed back down into the channel. He threw himself into the work, shoveling mud and sludge with all his strength, as if he could bury the matter along with it.
By the end of another long day, he washed himself in the river and returned to the government hall. His wife and children were still in Jiangling, and his troops remained stationed at Baishui Pass. During his time in Chengdu, he had taken up residence in the government offices. Liu Zhang had built them on a lavish scale, and there was no shortage of rooms.
"The moment I catch that smell, I know Yide is back."
Before Zhang Fei even stepped through the door, Kongming voice reached him, steady and familiar.
No matter how much he scrubbed, the sour scent of river silt clung stubbornly to his skin. It would not wash away so easily.
Zhang Fei showed not the slightest embarrassment. He burst into loud laughter and pushed the door open. "Kongming, it has been too long! Your Old Zhang has been dying of boredom. Come here and let me give you a proper embrace!"
With that, he charged straight at Kongming, arms thrown wide.
Kongming's face paled. Without hesitation, he grabbed Pang Tong and shoved him forward.
Zhang Fei did not mind in the least. He caught Pang Tong in a crushing hug, rubbed his cheek against him, then tossed him aside and went after Kongming again. The hall descended into uproar. Pang Tong was left standing where he had been dropped, his expression on the verge of tears.
The commotion only ended when Liu Bei returned. He knocked Zhang Fei on the head with his knuckles, and the chaos dissolved into laughter.
"What is this?" Zhang Fei wandered over to the table at the center of the hall and looked down with curiosity. A hole had been cut into the tabletop, and within it, glowing coals gave off a steady heat.
"The chicken broth is here!"
"Yide, move aside!"
Mi Zhu entered carrying a large clay pot filled with chicken broth. He waved Zhang Fei away and set the pot squarely over the glowing coals.
Zhang Fei took his seat and watched, half-dazzled, as Mi Zhu, Fa Zheng, Liu Ba, and the others moved about like a flurry of motion. One plate after another was set out, each holding a different ingredient. Among them, he even spotted the jar of preserved lychees they had seen on the Light Screen just the day before.
"Is this… how people in later ages eat?" Zhang Fei had seen enough to guess.
Kongming set aside his feather fan and was the first to lift his chopsticks. "Yide, give it a try."
Zhang Fei sat down properly. He glanced to one side, then the other. In the end, he picked up two slices of lamb and dropped them into the bubbling broth.
As he did, he finally spoke of what had been weighing on him all day. The soldiers who had been sent away.
"That matter…" Kongming paused, considering. "There are records. The Chengdu office holds a complete register. Two thousand one hundred and thirty-two men in total. Nearly nine hundred households in Chengdu alone sent them."
Liu Bei let out a quiet sigh. He placed a leaf of greens into the pot and watched it rise and sink in the boiling broth. "If it were still Liu Zhang, there might have been a chance to demand their return from the bandit Cao. Now that it is us, there is no such possibility."
His gaze lingered on the rolling broth. "This is not something that can be resolved by goodwill alone. We will do what we can."
Zhang Fei stared at the slices of lamb he had dropped in. He waited until the last trace of red had disappeared and the meat had turned pale throughout. Only then did he lift them out, dip them in crushed garlic, and take a bite. The taste was nothing unfamiliar, yet the method itself carried a certain satisfaction.
"Big Brother," he said, "I want to return to Baishui Pass ahead of schedule."
Liu Bei fished out his greens, dipped them in garlic, rolled them through the meat sauce, and ate as he answered, his words slightly muffled. "For now, Chengdu does not have the grain to support a direct campaign against Hanzhong."
Pang Tong cast Zhang Fei a long, resigned look. His gaze then drifted to the outer robe he had been forced to remove earlier after it had taken on the general's scent. He reached into the pot, picked out a lychee, and slipped it into his mouth.
"The Hanzhong campaign still needs time," he said.
"Shiyuan, can it be done this year?" Zhang Fei pressed.
His elder brother's reasoning was sound. Yizhou was still in the midst of rebuilding. Everywhere, something was under construction. The price of that progress was clear enough, the once-full coffers were beginning to run thin.
On top of that, reports had already come in of an attack on Gong'an. Kongming had judged that they must be ready for war on two fronts. Hanzhong to the north, Jiangdong pressing from the east. And if it came to that, Xiangyang and Fancheng would not remain idle.
So when Pang Tong and Fa Zheng examined the matter of Hanzhong, they arrived at a single conclusion. Speed. It had to be swift, and it had to be decisive.
Pang Tong went over the timing in his head, then gave a small nod. "It can be done."
Zhang Fei let the matter drop. He turned back to the table, sweeping through the dishes without restraint, picking whatever caught his eye and dropping each into the boiling broth. One by one, he tried every sauce laid out before him, until his chopsticks paused over a small dish of red powder.
"Why is there red salt?"
Kongming glanced over. "That is cane sugar. Yide, you should try it."
"So Kongming has been busy," Zhang Fei said with interest. He picked up a slice of meat, boiled it, then rolled it thoroughly in the red powder before tossing it into his mouth.
He chewed. Then stopped. With visible effort, he swallowed.
"Cao Pi truly had a twisted mind."
This time, he only dipped the tip of his chopsticks into the sugar and tasted it. His brows shot up.
"Kongming, this…"
Kongming was barely holding back his laughter. "What is it?"
"This cane sugar… is it valuable?" Zhang Fei asked, his tone turning slightly hesitant. "If there is any extra, my daughter…"
"It is indeed quite valuable," Kongming replied honestly.
Zhang Fei's face fell at once. He stared at the small dish in front of him. "Used on meat, it is truly terrible. Perhaps I should…"
Pang Tong's chopsticks shot out and stopped him. "Not so fast, Yide. It may be dreadful with meat, but dip fruit in it, and the taste is excellent."
To prove his point, Pang Tong picked up a lychee, rolled it in the sugar until it was coated in red, and ate it with calm satisfaction. Zhang Fei watched, his expression caught somewhere between longing and disbelief.
In the end, Liu Bei took pity on him. Shaking his head, he said, "The first batch of cane sugar came to twenty catties. Kongming has already sent ten catties to Jingzhou."
Zhang Fei's face brightened at once. He turned to Kongming with a low grumble. "So Kongming was teasing me again."
Kongming only smiled and said nothing, returning to his meal.
Zhang Fei picked up his chopsticks and continued eating. After a few bites, he let out a long breath. "I wonder how Second Brother is doing."
Steam rose from the bubbling pot in thin, drifting strands. A breeze passed through the hall, and the strands swayed before fading into the night.
Guan Yu stood beneath the open sky, his gaze fixed on the moon at the horizon. Below him, the city stretched into darkness, already deep in its nightly stillness.
The curfew had long since taken hold. His thoughts, unbidden, turned back to the cities they had seen on the Light Screen. Streets that never slept. Lights that burned without end. That vision had left its mark on all of them.
When the initial wonder faded, what troubled Guan Yu most was something simple. Those cities had no curfew. How could such a place exist? Without curfew, how did they guard against fire? How did they catch thieves moving under cover of night?
He looked up at the moon again and quietly recited, "When the granaries are full, the people know courtesy. When they are clothed and fed, they understand honor and shame."
"General, why speak of this at such an hour?" Zhao Lei asked from nearby, unable to follow his thoughts.
Guan Yu shook his head. "Come. Walk the night patrol with me."
After a long and exhausting journey, Jian Yong finally caught sight of the walls of Chang'an.
The fortifications were scarred with pits and gouges. At their base, scattered burial mounds rose unevenly, like a neglected field. These were the fallen, buried where they lay by families too worn down, or neighbors too indifferent, to carry them elsewhere.
The city gates stood open, unattended. Clusters of refugees huddled within the gate passage and along the inner walls, clinging to whatever shelter they could find against the cold.
"So this is Chang'an." Jian Yong let out a slow breath.
Ever since the Son of Heaven had fled, the once-great capital had been left to decay. The powerful families of Guanzhong relied on their own armed retainers and had no interest in maintaining a vast city with little natural defense. Cao Cao, however, desired the city, which was why he had marched to Tong Pass and clashed with Han Sui and Ma Chao.
By the time Jian Yong entered Chang'an, he already understood the course of events. Han Sui and Ma Chao had been defeated and driven west with what remained of their forces. Cao Cao had pursued them, leaving behind only a small force to hold the area.
The city itself lay in a tense, uneasy stillness. Everyone had heard of Cao Cao. Some, like Jian Yong, carried themselves with purpose. Others, like the refugees pressed against the walls, had nothing left to lose. For all the fear in the air, few had actually fled.
Following the directions Mi Zhu had given him before his departure, Jian Yong found the residence he sought. He spoke the coded phrase and presented the sealed letter.
"Send this to Xuchang. The name is written within. As for how it is delivered, that is for you to arrange."
"That will not be difficult." The man who received him was a round-faced merchant, easy in manner and untroubled in appearance. He led Jian Yong into the inner rooms. Once they were seated, he glanced at the darkening sky and let out a quiet sigh. "Given the current situation, does the honored sir have any guidance?"
Jian Yong drank a cup of hot tea, letting the warmth drive the chill from his body. He studied the man before him, a merchant whose network ran quietly through the undercurrents of war. After a moment's thought, he offered a measured answer.
"Han Sui and Ma Chao will not be destroyed so easily. Cao Cao will withdraw before long. But before he does, he will secure his hold over Chang'an. When that time comes, the city will see peace again."
The merchant exhaled slowly. "I can only hope it proves as you say."