Chapter Ninety-six: On Ideals

In the days that followed, Zhang Xuan and the others continued their practice according to the established schedule, each session proceeding in an orderly fashion. Zhao Ding’s teaching grew ever more adept, while the head of the Yan family found two elderly scholars who agreed to instruct their household. Whatever agreement may have been struck between the Yan family and these two learned men remained a mystery.

Time together always passes swiftly. The Yan family received word from their employer that everything was ready, and it was time to deliver the goods to Xiangyang. Zhao Ding and his companions would set out with them. Before their departure, Zhao Ding took the time to bid farewell to each friend individually, and, on the evening before they left, the group climbed up to the roof together to gaze at the stars and the moon—an act they deemed “meaningful.”

“Brother Zhang Xuan, I am quite curious about your future plans. Do you have any ambitions you might share with us?” Zhao Ding asked, eyes fixed on Zhang Xuan.

“Me? I’ve never really had lofty ambitions,” Zhang Xuan replied after some thought. “All I want is to eat my fill, stay warm, and, provided I can provide for myself, ensure that those I care about can do the same. Perhaps, if I’m truly able, to help those around me as well. But that’s only if I have the means.” He chose to express himself differently than before, feeling that grand dreams of conquering the world or winning beauties belonged more in idle fantasy. “Anyway, that’s mine. What about yours? Eldest brother, why don’t you start?”

“My dream is to be a warrior as invincible as Xiang Yu, or a Champion Marquis who repels invaders or guards the frontiers, earning glory for the Han dynasty.” Yang Zaixing had always idolized Huo Qubing, aspiring to one day plant the Han banner deep in enemy territory, just as his hero had done among the Xiongnu.

“As for me, I want to become an elite palace guard—ideally, one who protects the emperor himself, defending the very foundation of our Han dynasty.” Yuwen Chengdu’s ambition made Zhang Xuan tug at the corner of his mouth, recalling that the Yuwen Chengdu of his own world had been the illustrious Grand General of Sui, the personal protector of Emperor Yang. While the details were muddled, the general direction still matched the arc of history—though perhaps Yuwen might one day become his own personal guard. He remembered Yang Bo mentioning that Yang Jian had held office, but he wondered whether Yang Guang and the others had also come to this world.

“I have no grand designs,” Yang Hu interjected. “If I can fight alongside Zaixing and protect him, that will be enough for me.” After he spoke, Yang Zaixing looked over at Yang Hu, who returned the gaze. No more needed to be said.

“My ambition is much like Elder Brother Yang’s—I’d like to win glory on the battlefield, just as the Champion Marquis did. Cousin, what about you?” he asked, turning to Zhao Ding.

“My goal has always been to serve the Han faithfully and contribute my learning to the dynasty,” Zhao Ding answered without hesitation. He had long since set his ideals and purpose.

While the group discussed their aspirations atop the roof, Tong Yuan and Yang Bo stood silently below the eaves, their thoughts inscrutable.

After hearing everyone’s dreams, Zhang Xuan couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Such youthful passion, such noble ambitions—all determined to dedicate their lives to the Han. The young must always have their dreams. As for himself, he had no intention of telling these companions that the Han was already terminally ill, that chaos would soon engulf the land. Better to keep silent than risk being accused of treason when the time came.

“Brothers,” Zhang Xuan said at last, “as we part ways, who knows when we’ll meet again?”

“If fate allows, we’ll see each other again,” replied Zhao Ding. “Brother Zhao, you must study hard at Yingchuan Academy. Besides your studies, make as many friends as you can—and when you do, introduce them to me! To be honest, I’d love to get to know those scholars from the great academies. People like you usually rise to serve at court, and I’d very much like to meet such men.”

At these words, Yang Zaixing and the others could listen no longer. Scratching their ears, they excused themselves one by one, declaring their intention to return to sleep.

“But I haven’t finished!” Zhang Xuan protested. “Isn’t making friends important? As the saying goes, ‘more friends, more opportunities.’ Stay a bit longer, I have one last thing to say to Brother Zhao.”

“What is it? I’ll remember it well,” Zhao Ding promised.

“It’s this: if you ever gain wealth and power, don’t forget us! Truly—remember to lend us a helping hand once you succeed.” Zhang Xuan looked at Zhao Ding in all seriousness.

At that, Yang Zaixing and the others turned away, feigning ignorance of him.

Zhao Ding met Zhang Xuan’s intense gaze, swallowed nervously, and cleared his throat. “Brother Zhang Xuan, you’re the truly wise one here. Who knows, I may never rise as high as you. I might have to come seeking your help one day—don’t turn me away then!” Zhao Ding looked at Zhang Xuan, feeling that none of his companions were ordinary men, and that Zhang Xuan, who had brought them all together, must be even more remarkable.

Had Zhang Xuan known Zhao Ding’s thoughts, he would have smacked him—what did he mean, Zhang Xuan had gathered everyone? He’d had to plead and entreat them, and it was a tale full of tears.

The next day, Zhao Ding set out with the Yan family on his journey of learning. Zhang Xuan and the others saw him off at the edge of the village, and, after bidding farewell, resumed their daily training.