To Jian Yong, his greatest impression of Chang'an right now could be summed up with one word: chaos.
However, not the ruinous chaos of a city torn apart by war. This was something else entirely, a wild, bustling energy from people whose hearts were full of hope for the future.
Once the crown jewel of the Three Capital Regions and the magnificent capital of the Former Han Dynasty, Chang'an used to be the place where princes and nobles drank wine and laughed together. Its lofty halls were always filled with powerful clans and high-ranking ministers.
Now, with the Three Qin lands brought back under control, the old capital was rising from its ruins in a grand revival. The wide imperial avenues teemed with ordinary folk. The grand mansions that once belonged to generals and ministers had vanished without a trace.
Luoyang's former glory had long since crumbled into ash. The coalition that rose against Dong Zhuo left nothing behind but blackened ruins and scorched earth. Here in Chang'an, it was truly hard to find even one powerful aristocratic clan still holding sway.
Crowds of ordinary people gathered outside the Imperial Academy, their voices loud and boisterous as they called out to one another. Strangely enough, Jian Yong did not find the noise the least bit grating. Quite the opposite. He found himself thoroughly enjoying the lively, spirited mood all around him.
"Xianhe?"
The voice calling his courtesy name was far too familiar. Jian Yong burst into laughter before he even turned his head.
"I have not even had the chance to congratulate you on your extraordinary achievements in this campaign, Kongming!"
Zhuge Liang wore a faint, warm smile. He caught Jian Yong by the arm and pulled him straight through the throng toward the main gate, not waiting for a reply. His personal guards moved ahead to clear a path, and the two men made their way inside the Imperial Academy without much trouble.
Once past the entrance, Jian Yong saw that the bustle inside was even greater than outside. People hurried every which way. Some plastered fresh clay onto the walls. Others repaired the collapsed dormitories. Many more balanced heavy food baskets on shoulder poles as they rushed about their work. The whole place hummed with frantic, purposeful activity.
"When our Lord and I left Chengdu, I had already arranged for agricultural officials to move into Hanzhong. The moment Chang'an was retaken, I sent orders for those officials in both Chengdu and Hanzhong to head straight into Guanzhong. By the end of April, with everyone working together, we should just manage not to miss the spring planting window."
Jian Yong laughed heartily, filled with genuine admiration for Kongming's confidence. To have made such arrangements all the way back when they were still leaving Yizhou proved that Kongming had always seen the conquest of Guanzhong as a sure thing, never a gamble.
"Then what is all that crowd outside the Imperial Academy gates about?"
"To do good work, an artisan must first sharpen his tools," Kongming quoted, shaking his head gently. "Chang'an is unlike Jiangling, Chengdu, or Hanzhong. It stands almost empty right now. If we truly want it to thrive again, we must give the common people more than just fertile fields to till. They need practical skills to build better lives for themselves."
Jian Yong nodded in full agreement.
Gong'an and Jiangling stood right on the Yangtze River, holding control over the vital trade routes linking Yizhou and Jiangdong. Chengdu enjoyed the rich reserves built up by Liu Yan and his son over decades. Hanzhong had fallen so quickly that Zhang Lu had no chance to carry away his vast stores of wealth before fleeing.
Chang'an was something else entirely. It had been all but abandoned for years.
But looked at another way, the city held boundless potential. Once restored, Chang'an could become the heart of the Han once more, standing at the center of Guanzhong's fertile lands, commanding the Hexi Corridor to the west, and looking down over the Central Plains to the east.
Jian Yong knew there was no need to speak any of this aloud. Kongming had already weighed every detail far more thoroughly than he ever could, and doubtless carried a complete long-term plan for the city already laid out in his mind.
So Jian Yong shifted the conversation. "Did you also bring scholars over from Yizhou?"
He had not recognized the teenage boy and girl who bumped into him at the city gates, but his years of travel had sharpened his ear for dialects. He could tell right away the boy came from Yizhou, while the girl spoke with a mixed accent, part north and part south, with none of the local Guanzhong lilt.
Kongming kept walking at the same steady pace, though his smile grew warmer. "I poured everything I had into the Imperial Academy back in Chengdu."
Jian Yong took the hint. Ever since Emperor Guangwu brought the Han Dynasty back to power, the realm had placed great value on learning, producing countless renowned scholars and masters of the classics. Time had taught everyone a hard truth. Finding a wise teacher is difficult enough, but finding a truly gifted student is far harder still.
Jian Yong recalled Zhang Fei mentioning something during their time in Yongzhou and Liangzhou. When Pang Tong headed north, he had deliberately left the young Jiang Wei behind in Hanzhong, partly as a gesture to step aside and let Kongming pursue his own calling as a teacher.
Of course, Pang Tong had loudly denied that claim whenever anyone brought it up. Looking at things now, Jian Yong could see how it all fit together. Kongming already had a disciple of his own. For a man like him, teaching one student was no different from teaching a whole classroom. It made perfect sense.
"We are here," Kongming's voice pulled Jian Yong from his thoughts.
He looked up and saw the room filled with towering stacks of bamboo slips and wooden tablets.
Years of serving under Liu Bei had made Jian Yong used to writing on paper. Now, seeing piles of bamboo slips taking up nearly half the room, he was suddenly struck by a startling realization: for the entire first half of his life, this sight had been perfectly normal.
The Imperial Academy as a whole might be in a state of disrepair, but this one room was clearly kept with great care. Every bundle of bamboo slips carried a faint, oily sheen, plain proof that someone had been tending to these old texts, oiling and preserving them with steady hands.
Jian Yong had seen enough of the world to guess the truth instantly.
"Are these... the private book collection of Zhong Yao, the Sili Xiaowei?"
Having spent time in Yongzhou-Liangzhou, Jian Yong had naturally heard all the strange tales surrounding Zhong Yao. Every story pointed to one well-known fact. He valued books more than his own life, and his passion for calligraphy bordered on obsession.
In a city like Chang'an, still scarred and struggling back to life, there could only be one person capable of keeping so many scrolls in such flawless condition. Zhong Yao.
The sight of so many ancient texts sparked Jian Yong's curiosity more than he could say. But his good mood got cut short the moment Kongming spoke again.
"We are short on helping hands right now, Xianhe. Your calligraphy is as fine and polished as your character. You are exactly the man I need to help copy all of this down."
Jian Yong let out a long-suffering laugh. Helpless, but not the least bit unwilling. He reached for a brush, though not before asking one important question.
"Where is our Lord?"
"He rode to Chiyang today to oversee the work for the spring plowing," Kongming said, his brush already moving across the paper with the flowing grace of a soaring dragon. "He will return at dusk, and a grand feast will be held in your honor then."
Jian Yong found a clear spot at a desk and sat down. He ground the ink stick, dipped his brush into the well, and picked up a heavy bamboo scroll. He studied the faded old characters carefully, then began copying them onto the crisp white paper laid out before him.
They scribbled away at high speed, stopping now and then to exchange a few words.
"Kongming, what kind of trick did you use to persuade Zhong Yao to let you copy his most prized collection?"
"It was simple enough. I offered him a hundred sheets of the finest paper, and I also took the time to write out several calligraphy styles from the Lightscreen and gave them to him as a gift."
"Does that not mean Zhong Yao will forget food and sleep while he sits there picking apart every stroke and structure of those characters?"
"I have not laid eyes on him in ten days."
"You really ought to send someone over to check on him. Just to be safe."
---
By the time Jian Yong finally lifted his head from the desk, the sun had dipped low enough to paint the room in soft golden light and stretch long shadows across the walls.
Kongming was still deep in his work, clearly eager to keep copying, but Jian Yong hauled him to his feet and pulled him along. After a full day of travel followed by hours bent over a brush, his mind was set on one thing. The evening banquet.
The Imperial Academy, so crowded and busy earlier, had emptied out. The throngs at the gates had gone their way, though the streets still hummed with life. Peddlers called out their goods. Squads of soldiers marched past in steady patrol. Ordinary folk hurried to finish mending roofs and walls before the light faded completely.
Following Kongming's directions, they made their way deeper into the city and stopped before the gates of a General's Manor. They stepped inside.
The manor still bore signs of past neglect, though fresh repairs had made it far more welcoming than before. Seated at ease in the courtyard was none other than Lord Liu Bei himself.
"Xianhe, you have arrived!"
Before Jian Yong could even bow, Liu Bei strode forward with a hearty laugh to greet him.
Then his expression shifted to mild confusion. "I only dispatched a messenger yesterday asking you to come to Chang'an. How is it you are already here today?"
Jian Yong laughed heartily.
"I missed my Lord so much I simply could not bear to wait for a formal summons. The moment the thought took hold of me, I saddled my horse and rode straight here."
This shameless excuse earned another roaring laugh from Liu Bei. Aside from Zhang Fei, Jian Yong was probably the only person in the world who could say something like that so naturally and without a hint of pretense.
Once they were seated, Jian Yong began to share all he had seen along the way.
"The refugees are coming back in great numbers, my Lord. Every town I passed teemed with people hurrying home. Some have already set to work tilling their old fields, hoping to make the most of the spring planting. Others are patching up roofs and clearing out the irrigation ditches. The tea stalls outside Chencang were packed with travelers resting before they continued their journey. At Mei County, I ran into a farmer I met last year on the Baoxie road. Back then, he and his family were fleeing south with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Now he has his land again. His daughters have learned to weave cloth. His youngest son, who was nothing but a wailing infant when our paths first crossed, now chases frogs and asks strangers if they are generals."
Jian Yong smiled. "The people are not merely returning home, my Lord. They are already building their lives anew."
Liu Bei listened closely, nodding slowly as the account went on.
He knew full well that defeating Xiahou Yuan on the battlefield had been the simplest part of reclaiming Guanzhong. The real challenge lay ahead. Helping the people put years of loss and upheaval behind them, filling the granaries, ensuring every family had enough to eat and warm clothes to wear, giving them land to farm, roofs over their heads, and skills to live by. That was his true goal for the region. And every single part of it would be far harder than winning a battle. If it were otherwise, Cao Cao would never have turned his back on Guanzhong when it was practically handed to him.
The land had been broken too deeply to mend in a day.
Jian Yong's expression softened as he continued.
"But the sight that stayed with me most was at the Jing'an Shrine in Linwei. I met an old man there whose nineteen-year-old son had been drafted into Cao Cao's army. The boy died in battle last year, and his father had spent the entire year not knowing where he was buried. When the old man learned that Liu Huangshu had given every fallen soldier a marked grave, he finally dared to enter the shrine. He feared what others would say. In the end, he found the courage to light his incense and weep for his boy."
He looked straight at Liu Bei. "That shrine is more than timber and stone, my Lord. For that old man, it was proof that his son had not been forgotten."
When Jian Yong finished, Liu Bei remained still for a long moment. He lowered his eyes, his fingers slowly tightening around the edge of the table.
"Before this year is out, I will have Jing'an Shrines built at Yangping Pass, Jiangzhou, Jiangling, and Fancheng. Let every man who died in these wars have a place where his family may come to mourn him."
This statement caught Jian Yong off guard.
"Wait, what, my Lord? Is Yunchang's divine might truly that terrifying? Is Jingzhou already secured?!"
Liu Bei's expression suddenly brightened even further.
"And that is not the only good news."
He reached beneath his robes and drew out a thick bundle of urgent dispatches.
"A report from Yizhou. Nanzhong has been pacified! Wu Yi is leading his troops into Yunnan. By the end of May at the latest, the region will be secured, and the entire southwestern frontier of our Great Han will finally be free of trouble!"
Jian Yong's breath caught. Nanzhong, tamed at last. That wild, fever-ridden southern land that had always plagued their rear. Now Wu Yi was marching even further beyond its borders.
"On top of that," Liu Bei went on, "Wu Yi writes that in Qinzang County they met merchants from Shendu and obtained a bag of remarkable seeds. From his description, it may well be the cotton we have long sought!"
This time it was Kongming who reacted most sharply. His eyes went wide. The brush in his hand froze mid-stroke, and a drop of ink fell onto the paper beneath. Cotton. The wonder crop described in the Lightscreen. He looked ready to sprout wings and fly straight to Yizhou to see it for himself.
Liu Bei watched Kongming's reaction and laughed even harder. Then he went on.
"From Jiangling comes another urgent report. Zilong has crushed Zhang Liao at Changban and reinforced the city!"
Jian Yong's hand froze in mid-air, hovering right over his cup. Zhao Zilong. Zhang Liao. Two names that could shake the earth just by being spoken together. And Zilong had won.
"Zhang Ni and Shamoke joined their forces, defeated Han Dang in battle, and marched to strengthen Jiangling's defenses!"
Han Dang. Dead. Jian Yong had read of him in the Lightscreen. A veteran who had served the Sun clan ever since the days of Sun Jian. Now he was gone, cut down in the heat of battle.
"Lu Meng was killed by one of his own men," Liu Bei said.
Jian Yong's expression changed. "Killed... by his own army?"
"A conscript named Zhou Hei. A farmer driven to desperation." Liu Bei's voice was steady. "He put a blade through Lu Meng's back while the officers stood by and watched. Jiangling is secure. The rebel general's head has already been sent to Wancheng as proof. All of northern Jingzhou is safe in our hands."
The room went still.
Jian Yong set his cup down slowly. He looked across at Liu Bei. A broad smile lit up his Lord's face, yet behind it lay something deeper. The heavy burden of countless sleepless nights finally beginning to lift.
Kongming was the first to break the pause. He cupped his hands in formal congratulation, then reached for the dispatches and read through every word. His finger traced along a line near the bottom of one scroll, and he came to a halt.
Zhao Yun serves as overall commander. Zhang Ni and Shamoke act as his deputies. They have joined forces with Gan Yi, who brought troops from Jiaozhou. Together, the combined strength of Jiaozhou, Yizhou, and Jingzhou has overwhelmed and taken Jiangxia.
"Gan Yi... interesting," Kongming murmured. Then his gaze grew focused as he traced the route Zhang Ni had taken. Jiaozhou lay a thousand miles away across thick jungle and treacherous swamp. From there the path led north through Wuling, and finally onward to Jiangxia. A short, sharp laugh broke from him, filled with genuine respect.
"For Zhang Boqi to cross through Jiaozhou and march a thousand miles to reinforce Wuling... this man is a true flying general!"
Liu Bei nodded repeatedly, his face glowing with pride. He had always recognized Zhang Ni's natural talent for command. The Lightscreen had shown him a far crueler fate for this fierce general, an elderly, gravely ill Zhang Ni marching to war only to die on campaign. Seeing that future overturned was more gratifying than he could put into words.
As for the brief line tucked away in the dispatch stating that Zhang Ni and Ma Zhong had joined forces to slay Pan Zhang in battle, Liu Bei passed over it lightly. He simply sighed in admiration, remarking that Zhang Ni had truly become a warrior none could stop.
Holding the urgent reports, Kongming began rearranging the geopolitical picture in his mind. His expression shifted from joy to careful calculation.
Jiangdong's peace envoys will be on their way soon. Begging for terms. This matter will need careful handling. I will have to speak with Shiyuan first. He is far better at this kind of thing than I am.
Meanwhile, Liu Bei had already set aside the weighty affairs of state and turned a warm smile toward Jian Yong.
"With such glorious news piling up, we must hold a grand banquet to celebrate! Xianhe, you should stay here for a while. In ten days, the Lightscreen will open again, and we shall watch it together!"
Jian Yong accepted the invitation with great delight.
In fact, he found himself eagerly looking forward to it.
---
Just as the manor was buzzing with frantic activity to prepare the grand feast, a fast horse galloped up and halted outside the gates. Moments later, a personal guard rushed in to deliver his report to Liu Bei.
"My Lord! General Ma has arrived outside the city gates. He has sent a messenger ahead to announce his return, wishing to present you with a great merit. He has captured one of Cao's top generals!"
"Present his merit?"
Liu Bei froze, completely stunned. Ma Mengqi had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth for nearly a month. Now the man had suddenly appeared right at his doorstep.
"Which general has he captured?" Liu Bei asked.
The guard bowed low. "Zhang He, my Lord. He has taken Zhang He alive."
The room fell still.
Jian Yong felt the weight of that name settle over him. Zhang He. Not just any officer. One of Cao Cao's most trusted and capable commanders. A man who had slipped through their grasp more than once during the Guanzhong campaign. A man whose tactical skill had made him a formidable foe on every battlefield he walked.
Jian Yong turned to look at Liu Bei. Liu Bei looked back at him. Slowly, a broad smile spread across Jian Yong's face.
He rose to his feet, clasped his hands in salute, and bowed deeply.
"Congratulations, my Lord! Today, Guanzhong is truly at peace. No hidden threat remains anywhere in the land!"