Chapter Thirty-Five: Always Replacing Old Charms with Fresh Peachwood Ones

The atmosphere at the dinner table was somewhat peculiar.

Guan Zhang devoured his food as if being driven by a force, while Liu Bei and Zhang Yu managed to share a few laughs with Zhang Shiping and Madam Liu, though their words and gestures betrayed an urgency. Zhang Fei, his face flushed with delight, wore a broad grin that never closed, stuffing meat and wine into his mouth while urging Zhang Yu to eat faster. Meanwhile, Guan Yu drank silently, his complexion dark red, occasionally shaking his head and muttering about "breaking the rules... outrageous..."

After a hurried, hearty meal, the four rose to continue their battle. Zhang Shiping and Madam Liu, curious, followed along, accompanied by Ying’er and Han Yan.

"Perfect, eight people altogether—enough for two tables. My gym is starting to look more like a game parlour these days," Zhang Yu remarked.

Earlier, Zhang Yu and Zhang Fei had teamed up in a two-on-two match. At first, Zhang Yu was surprised at how quickly the burly Zhang Fei took to the game, even devising his own strategies. Upon reflection, it made sense; among the three brothers, only Zhang Fei came from a wealthy urban family, so he was used to such amusements.

Poor Guan Yu, though; fate had shut the window on archery, only to open the door wide for losing at mahjong...

Night had yet to end, but the gym was ablaze with candlelight.

Zhang Shiping, who had quickly discerned the secrets of the game, pulled Zhang Yu aside, and the four novices played with lively shouts and laughter. Still, Zhang Fei managed to sweep the board, winning three games out of four.

After watching a while, Zhang Yu felt fatigue creeping in and prepared to leave with the two girls. To his surprise, Ying’er declared she wasn’t tired, and Han Yan shyly refused to go, underestimating mahjong’s allure.

"How about we spice things up a bit?" Zhang Yu suggested, aware that mahjong without stakes quickly lost its excitement.

"No, no, that's not wise," Liu Bei interjected, casting a fleeting glance at Zhang Fei, who was busy setting up the tiles with pride. "We’re all family here, just playing for fun. We can add stakes when playing outsiders."

Watching everyone fix their gaze on the tiles in deep thought, Zhang Yu felt a small swell of pride.

Indeed, in later ages beset by a dizzying array of entertainment, mahjong remained steadfast and ever popular. If introduced in the era of the Three Kingdoms, who could guess how wildly it would sweep the land?

One thing was certain—his family now had something to keep them busy this New Year.

Just as he turned to leave, Zhang Fei called out, "Yu Lang, what’s this game called? I want to make a set for myself at home, so big brother won’t scold me for drinking too much!"

"It’s called Jade Tiles," Zhang Yu replied. "I’ll have someone send a set to you."

He already had the Jade Brush, and Jade Tiles sounded no less elegant than mahjong. Besides, his uncle was shrewd—drinking wasn’t the real issue, causing trouble was!

---

Though he easily earned a thousand reputation points, Zhang Yu remained dissatisfied. Given mahjong’s influence, the system’s reward felt meager, and there was no experience bonus. After much bargaining, he learned that entertainment items like these could never match the acclaim earned personally, and the system always had the final say.

For several days thereafter, save for Zhang Shiping who had business elsewhere, the four immersed themselves in their new battlefield. Only when Liu Bei exclaimed in dismay at its addictive nature and struggled to rise from his chair did the games finally cease.

This reminded Zhang Yu that mahjong, while entertaining, truly possessed an opium-like danger.

The Ming-era game Madiao, the precursor to mahjong, once ensnared scholars in endless play. After the fall of the Ming, Wu Meicun wrote in "Records of Pacifying Rebels" that the dynasty perished because of Madiao. Hu Shi too condemned Chinese mahjong, questioning what progressive nation would squander its energy and time so recklessly.

Mahjong was undeniably a double-edged sword. At its worst, it could rival opium in harm. Zhang Yu wondered if his whim to introduce the game early was right or wrong, and could only urge Liu Bei and the others to keep it within the family for private amusement.

As a wise leader, Liu Bei understood and promised to do so.

Soon, Zhang Sifan—now Zhang Yu—was about to celebrate his first New Year in the Three Kingdoms.

There were no tasteless Spring Festival galas, no dazzling lanterns lighting up the night. The stars shone bright overhead, filling the air with the freshness and authenticity of the New Year.

Here, firecrackers were true firecrackers—not modern fireworks or strings of explosives—but actual bamboo roasted over fire, crackling and popping.

Seeing this, Zhang Yu mused that if he were a science student, perhaps he could concoct gunpowder or explosives. In his mind, “Master science and math, and you can travel the world without fear” had become a guiding principle.

There were no couplets at this time, either—the custom was to hang small pieces or boards of peach wood at the door, inscribed with spells to ward off evil, called “peach charms,” replaced each year.

With his father’s permission, Zhang Yu pasted three pieces of red paper on the doorposts and lintel, dipped his brush, and wrote out a couplet, then cut a square red paper for the “Fortune” character.

The now-famous young master’s every move drew attention. Though red paper was scarce, writing auspicious words on the old wooden boards seemed far more pleasing than strange spells.

In no time, crowds gathered at Zhang Mansion’s entrance; humble folk came just to glimpse the young master’s calligraphy, while wealthy clans offered large sums for a pair of red couplets.

Zhang Yu couldn’t refuse such profitable work. Under the gaze of the three brothers and his family, he wielded his brush with ease, making money by the bucketful, prompting Liu Bei and his companions, who tightened their belts to get by, to show undisguised envy.

Over time, Zhang Yu grew tired, and while stretching his wrist he saw Zhang Fei pick up a brush. His posture was proper, and his strokes flowed with wild cursive—grass script!

---

Zhang Fei threaded the needle, rough yet meticulous, not without reason. Rumors claimed Zhang Fei was actually a fair-faced scholar, master of painting and calligraphy, and a fine poet. While the scholar’s face was debatable, his skill in art was beyond doubt.

This was perfect—Zhang Yu composed, Zhang Fei wrote. It allowed Zhang Yu to legitimately share half the profits with his uncle, a gesture of goodwill to the three brothers and a boost to their camaraderie.

Together, they managed to sell all the couplets before nightfall. By moonrise, the whole household finished their tasks and gathered, joy filling the courtyard.

By the late Han, New Year’s Eve was already a night to stay up. The elders kept vigil to “bid farewell to the old year,” cherishing time; the young kept watch to prolong their parents’ lives.

The family enjoyed their New Year’s feast together, leftovers and dishes left for servants to clear away. Liu Bei, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and the parents set up another game as they stayed up, while Zhang Yu took Ying’er and Han Yan into the courtyard, cool and clear, to gaze at the stars.

"Sometimes, I feel truly fortunate," Zhang Yu began, his words gently rippling the night’s tranquility.

Two lovely girls of contrasting character stood quietly by his side, saying nothing, simply watching the man in their hearts. In their clear eyes, the world was only him.

"I once thought I’d live as most people do—rush through college, find a job to get by, marry someone decent, and spend my life worrying about car, house, and children."

Zhang Yu exhaled, his expression thoughtful, as if recalling the past. "Or perhaps—seize my youth, strive for graduate studies, land a good job, marry well, have a healthy, adorable child, and work diligently for a lifetime. That would be the best outcome."

"Then, I came here. To an age I’d dreamed of countless times—the best, and the worst of times.

Heaven gave me a remarkable face, loving parents, true companions like you, Han Long, my sworn brothers, my uncle..."

And the wondrous system that brought him here.

"I am no longer ordinary. Perhaps I came here to accomplish something great. In half a year, I have gathered some capital to stake my claim in this world.

Ying’er, Yan’er, watch closely!

Born into this troubled era, I shall shine as its brightest star!"

"Yes!"