Chapter Fourteen: Two Flowers Bloom, Both in the North

The light rain before evening always seemed to kindle a lantern tinged with the chill of approaching night.

In several homes, candles had already been lit, and vendors were preparing to close their stalls and shutter their shops. On ordinary days, the city of Pingyuan would already have entered its tranquil prelude to sleep by this hour.

To have such peace in such an era was no small blessing.

Of course, few thieves or brigands dared to cause trouble here. Though guards armed with bows and blades patrolled the city walls without pause, and disciplined soldiers made their rounds through the winding streets and alleys, these were not what inspired true awe.

The people revered—and the wrongdoers feared—only three men.

The first was bearded and swarthy, towering eight feet tall, with a panther’s head, a bear’s build, and tiger-like eyes. He wielded a great serpent spear, his strength unrivaled.

The second had a face like a ripe date and stood nine feet tall, his beard stretching two feet in length. Phoenix-like eyes and silkworm-shaped brows gave him a commanding presence. He bore the mighty Green Dragon Crescent Blade, weighing eighty-two catties, and his spirit soared to the heavens.

The third had earlobes drooping to his shoulders and hands that reached past his knees, standing seven and a half feet tall. His features were as refined as jade, lips as if painted, his temperament magnanimous, reticent, his emotions scarcely betrayed, yet his mind was deep and shrewd. He carried the paired Male and Female Swords, grave and composed.

It was thanks to these three that the people of Pingyuan led lives nearly as idyllic as those in fabled Peach Blossom Spring.

Yet tonight, something felt amiss. At some point, a letter had been posted on the stone wall behind the city gate. The crowd of commoners grew ever larger, their animated conversations undiminished even as curfew approached, puzzling the captain of the night watch.

He beckoned a young soldier to relay a message, then strained his ears and held his breath, but could only catch fragments like “white bones... crowing of cocks...” mingled with sighs and praise. Curiosity piqued, he made his way toward the wall where the letter was posted.

…

The candle flickered, pages rustled.

In these times, books were a rarity, but he possessed one, a token of gratitude from the people for his governance here.

Rough yet slender fingers rested gently on the page, then brushed over it with an indescribable gentleness. Immersed in his reading, he was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

“Elder brother, are you resting?”

The usually sonorous voice was deliberately hushed, but still loud enough to sound as if a drumstick were circling the surface of a drum.

“Not yet. What brings you here, Yide?”

The man closed his book and smoothed his rumpled robe. “Come in and speak.”

The visitor pushed open the door and entered, a figure so imposing that just a glance could instill fear. Yet, entering the room, this stalwart man was both cautious and respectful.

“Heh, I just worried you’d retired early after a hard day, brother. If I’d disturbed your rest, it would be a grave fault of mine,” Zhang Fei said with a hearty laugh.

“Third brother, you mustn’t think that way. Between the three of us, how could there be talk of disturbance? No matter how tired I am, seeing you and second brother always fills me with renewed vigor.”

A natural, warm smile appeared on Liu Bei’s face, as comforting as basking in the spring sun, his voice gentle and refined.

“Third brother, you’ve come in such haste—could it be you’re out of wine again? I have none here, seek your second brother instead, and don’t let drink hinder your affairs.” Liu Bei’s teasing was unmistakable.

“Hey! Don’t make fun of me, brother. You’d never guess my reason for coming tonight!”

“Oh? Then I must try to guess.”

Bohai Commandery, Nanpi.

“A man should think: when one place is in trouble, all should come to its aid. Only thus can chaos be swiftly quelled…”

“My lord! For such an ignorant, brash youth to act so presumptuously at his tender age is a disgrace to Hebei. Does he imagine himself, like you, my lord, to rally countless followers with a single call?”

“The earlier poem was crude and lacking in artistry; if it spreads, not only will it offend our noble families, but it may unsettle the common folk—this must not be taken lightly!”

The scholar below the dais barely lifted his eyelids, bowing to the man seated behind the table. His words were reasonable, righteous, and moving.

Atop the dais, the man in embroidered robes sat with eyes closed, his thoughts unreadable.

“Gongze, be at ease. Ziyuan, read the poem again.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Another scholar below raised the letter and read aloud, “In the east, righteous men rise, mustering troops to quell the wicked…”

Before he finished, the man on the dais rose with a long sigh.

“What a line: ‘The army lacks unity, self-interest breeds strife!’ Most people lament ‘White bones exposed in the fields,’ ‘For a thousand miles, no cock crows’—but only these two lines truly pierce my heart.”

“My lord!” The assembled civil and military officials all rose.

“My lord, Yan Liang requests permission to travel to Zhongshan and bring back the head of this Zhang Yu!”

“My lord, Wen Chou…”

“Nonsense.” Yuan Shao opened his eyes, an aura of authority erupting that instantly silenced the gathering.

He gently stroked his neatly trimmed beard, stepped down before Xu You, and took the letter in hand.

“Has this young man spoken falsely? The lords of the eighteen provinces assembled at Suanzao with great fanfare, yet look at us now. Is it not because the army lacks unity? Is it not self-interest that breeds strife?”

His expression shifted from warmth to frost.

“If Cao Mengde is angry, am I not as well? Do I not wish to lead my troops west and strike straight at Chang’an?”

“But as the alliance leader, I must consider these feckless lords. I am also your lord, and the lord of the tens of thousands of Bohai troops! There are many things I can no longer do according to my own will…”

As he spoke, his face softened and his tone grew gentle.

All present prostrated themselves, startled and contrite, with Guo Tu the most fervent—

“Your servant’s inability to allay your lordship’s worries is a grave offense. I beg for punishment!”

“Yan Liang, Wen Chou—take Gao Gan and strengthen our preparations. When we descend upon Jizhou, I would indeed like to meet the remarkable youth of Zhongshan who shows such insight.”

…

The candle was nearly spent, yet Liu Bei’s hand still held the letter.

“Brother, you know how to read—there are only these few words on the page. Why are you not finished yet?” Zhang Fei, already drowsy, scratched his face and head in boredom.

“Yide, do you know what this is?”

“Brother, I can read! ‘Song of the Reed Field’—it’s an old tune from the Music Bureau. This poem was written by a youth from Zhongshan, urging those with means to help the people—a fine thing indeed.”

Liu Bei gazed at him with a wry smile. “Then why did you bring it to me?”

“The captain of the guard found it today—it was posted by the city gate, drew quite a crowd. He sent word, and when I read it, I thought it excellent, though it didn’t scold those worthless lords nearly enough. If I, Zhang Fei, had written it, I’d have said—”

“All right, all right,” Liu Bei laughed, waving the letter. “But do you know who this Zhang Yu of Zhongshan is?”

“No, perhaps some famed scholar? But he claims to be just a youth…”

“This Zhang Yu is my nephew.”

“What!?” Zhang Fei’s round eyes widened, sleep forgotten. “Then he’s my nephew too!”

Zhang Fei grinned. “Never expected your nephew to be so talented, brother. When he’s older, he’ll surely be a great man and help you achieve your grand cause alongside me and second brother!”

“But I once heard from my elder sister that Yu was often ill as a child, and later became simple-minded… I wonder how he is now.” As Liu Bei spoke, his expression darkened; perhaps such shifting of moods was a requisite discipline for a ruler.

“Don’t worry, brother—just look at how well this poem is written! If this is simple-mindedness, then what does that make your third brother—”

Thud, thud, thud.

“Brother, third brother—I am late!”