Chapter Fifteen: Fame Across Hebei
The door was pushed open, and Guan Yu entered the room with a smile, sitting down beside the two men.
“I could hear you and our third brother laughing from far away,” Guan Yu said, waving another letter in his hand. “It seems there’s more than one good thing happening. Take a look at this, brother.”
Liu Bei accepted the envelope. On its surface, in neat, elegant handwriting, was written: “To my uncle, Lord Liu of Pingyuan, to be opened personally.” He turned it over and over, then withdrew the letter and moved closer to the candlelight to read.
But as his eyes traveled down the page, a faintly unnatural expression appeared on his calm and composed face, and his brows knit together unconsciously. As he read further down, no fewer than a dozen expressions flickered and mingled across his features.
“Brother, is something the matter?”
“Hm… It seems my nephew has truly grown up,” Liu Bei said gravely.
“That’s good news! Why, then, do you look so troubled, brother?”
“Second and third brothers, you’d best rest early tonight. We must prepare together at dawn tomorrow. The refugees from Zhongshan… will soon be here.”
…
“Achoo!”
Zhang Yu rolled over, pulling the thin silk coverlet tighter around himself.
“How odd. Didn’t my cold go away after that bath?”
…
It was noon, and the blazing sun beat down from above.
The three brothers stood atop the city wall of Pingyuan, gazing into the distance. The heavy city gates were wide open, and below, more than a dozen barrels of fresh water and small mountains of dried provisions sat piled in the shade of the wall.
Before long, figures began to appear on the horizon. First one, then a cluster, then a crowd—men and women, old and young, children with yellow hair and toddlers barely walking, all supporting one another as they surged toward the city.
“Yunchang, Yide—come with me to welcome the people,” Liu Bei said, descending the wall. “Guards! Roll those barrels of water outside the gate for the people to cool themselves!”
“Yes, sir!”
Traveling in the summer heat was no easy task. It might be bearable early or late in the day, but to be caught on the road at noon beneath the fierce sun was pure torment. Yet such were the times, and when life and death pressed close, people discovered reserves of endurance they never knew they had. After days on the road, these refugees from Zhongshan had finally reached their destination.
At first sight of the city walls rising—though a little lower than they’d imagined—a sudden cheer erupted among them. The city within reach was a balm for their thirst and longing, and the people felt their exhaustion lift, their steps growing lighter.
“Elder Ji! Look, we’ve made it!”
“Sir, Yu-lang didn’t deceive us! Lord Liu himself has come to welcome us!”
“Brothers and sisters, let’s give it one last push!”
Liu Bei, accompanied by his sworn brothers, personally went out to welcome the refugees, leaving them stunned and grateful, many falling to their knees in thanks.
Ji Song, leading the group with a sturdy young man, exchanged a few words with Liu Bei, then turned to address the crowd. Remarkably, the refugees dispersed in an orderly fashion, forming long lines at each barrel of water.
The old and young stood at the front, the strong at the back; no pushing, no scrambling—everything was calm and methodical.
“Brother, are these really refugees?” Zhang Fei muttered, swallowing hard. “They look like they’ve been specially trained.”
Guan Yu narrowed his long, phoenix eyes, walked to the front of a queue, and personally ladled out water for the elder leading it. “Old sir, who taught you to line up in this way?” he asked quietly.
The elder bowed in thanks, took the ladle from Guan Yu, and replied, “It was Yu-lang of Zhongshan who arranged for us to do so when he aided us. He once said, ‘Without rules, nothing can be accomplished.’ Only by…”
“Without rules, nothing can be accomplished! Mencius’s words fit perfectly here.” Guan Yu’s gaze swept over the queues, and he couldn’t help but marvel inwardly. His brother’s nephew, whom he’d never met, had not only thought to organize the refugees into lines but had managed it so thoroughly—surely no ordinary youth.
Liu Bei made a round through the crowd. Seeing the sun high overhead, he was about to invite everyone inside the city for resettlement when he heard the nearby voices of praise, causing him to pause in mid-stride.
“No wonder he’s Yu-lang’s uncle—a man of true benevolence!”
“With Yu-lang so pure of heart, how could his uncle be any less?”
“If not for Yu-lang, how would we see this day? I, Wang Wu, will never forget his great virtue!”
Today, Pingyuan city was but a microcosm of the five counties of Hebei.
Not all refugees from Zhongshan had come to Pingyuan—some had settled in nearby towns. But every one of them uttered the same name—
Yu-lang.
Who was Yu-lang?
He was the only son of Zhang Shiping, the wealthy and charitable merchant of Zhongshan.
At sixteen, he was of striking beauty—delicate, fair, and unmatched in handsomeness.
He persuaded his father to open the granaries, feeding hundreds of refugees and sparing them the agony of hunger.
Strict yet compassionate, he established order among the crowds with a drawn sword, turning chaos into ranks as disciplined as soldiers.
He wrote to his uncle Liu Bei, arranging single-handedly for the resettlement of hundreds of refugees—his sincerity and virtue were rarely seen in this world.
Such was the early, relatively sober version of events. But after the poem “Song of the Wilds” and his letter began to circulate, Zhang Yu’s image was mythologized among the thousands upon thousands of refugees throughout Hebei—he became their beacon of hope.
Led by Zhongshan and Pingyuan, the whole of Hebei was swept up in “Yu-lang fever.” Even beggars on the streets would invoke him—“Now the bones lie bare in the fields, for miles no rooster crows, please, sir, spare a bite to eat”—and the flood of praise was enough to make Zhang Yu blush.
He was called a rising star of letters, a patriot with a heart for the people, but those labels felt too official, too much like imperial endorsement. The common folk, instead, focused their admiration on the image of “Yu-lang.”
Some said he was born with a jade in his mouth, his body glowing at birth—hence the name Zhang Yu, the Jade Gentleman.
Some claimed he was the most favored attendant beneath the goddess Nüwa’s seat, sent down in troubled times to save the world.
Others insisted he was gifted in both letters and arms, a master of archery and riding, skilled in all the arts—so talented that heaven itself grew jealous and cursed him with frailty.
Yet others swore he had slept through his childhood, enduring ten years of dreamlike training to awaken with the wisdom of a hundred years—this, in fact, made Zhang Yu break out in a cold sweat, for by pure accident their words matched the cover story he’d prepared. Never underestimate the wit and imagination of ancient peasants!
But no matter what was said—in modern terms, Zhang Yu was now famous.
Famous beyond belief; the hottest young idol of the Han dynasty.
Especially in Zhongshan, where matchmakers streamed to his door and the Zhang estate was crowded day and night. Even when Zhang Shiping politely refused every proposal, and eventually shut the doors entirely, the fervor did not abate. Young ladies could be found standing on their servants’ backs, peering into the Zhang family courtyard, hoping for a glimpse.
“So now I understand how Wei Jie died of too much attention… Is there any way out of this?” Zhang Yu pulled the cotton from his ears and listened at the door. Hearing nothing, he slipped out quietly. As he stepped into the courtyard, he locked eyes with a girl in mid-leap.
“Yu-lang! Yu-lang is out!”
“Yu-lang! Yu-lang!”
A tidal wave of sound.
“System! Look at what you’ve done—couldn’t you have let me transmigrate as an ordinary person? Did I have to be this handsome? Can beauty be eaten as food? If it could, I’d feed the whole Han empire! I just want to live a quiet life… Sifan, Sifan—turns out the name was right after all; starlight dazzling, everyone watching—this is my fate!”
Muttering complaints, Zhang Yu suddenly froze. “System? System, are you there…”
…
“Fifth sister, there’s quite a story going around the city these days.”
“Second sister, do you mean… Yu-lang?”
“Yes, that’s right. Fifth sister, did you know that this Yu-lang, who’s the talk of all Hebei, is only sixteen? And, well, he has the same name as your… your betrothed. Tell me, could they be—?”
“Please don’t tease me, sister. Brother Zhang has suffered much since childhood, I know that. I only hope that we can live a peaceful life together. I dare not wish for anything more.”