Chapter Forty-Seven: There Are Trees Upon the Mountain, and the Trees Have Branches

(1/3)

“That day, I owe my deepest gratitude to General Junyi for leading his troops to our aid,” Zhang Yu said as the two of them entered the room, giving a deep and formal bow. But—

“Master Zhang, you’re too kind! I did nothing that day. It was your own extraordinary skill that turned danger into safety. What did it have to do with me?” replied Zhang He with a politeness that almost seemed excessive.

Hearing Zhang He’s overly courteous words, Zhang Yu’s heart fluttered with unease. In truth, ever since that day, he had felt unsettled, for Zhang He’s friendliness toward him was inexplicably high—absurdly high.

They had only met once, and just now could be considered truly acquainted, yet their rapport had instantly soared to eighty-four, cementing a bond of friendship. What was this? Such an anomaly could only be explained by some hidden reason!

Could it be that Zhang He harbored an unexpected affection for him? Or perhaps, because they shared the same surname, this was his long-lost elder brother?

As Zhang Yu hesitated, wondering whether to probe delicately for answers, he saw Zhang He bow to him in return and declare, “I have come to thank you for saving my younger brother’s life.”

“General, please don’t!” Zhang Yu hurriedly helped the renowned commander up. “When have I ever saved your brother?”

“I am a native of Hejian. During the Yellow Turban Rebellion, I enlisted under Lord Han of Jizhou, while my younger brother Zhang Li remained in Hejian to manage our family’s estates so we could support each other.

“Last year, the Black Mountain bandits raided our land just as my brother was returning with a caravan. After a skirmish, the bandits captured both him and all his goods.

“By luck, he managed to escape alone, penniless, and joined the refugees entering Lunu City, hoping for a chance to find me. But hunger and exhaustion nearly claimed his life. It was only because you generously gave food to the starving that my brother survived. You have done my family a great favor.

“This bow, you truly deserve!” With these words, this tall man knelt before Zhang Yu in gratitude.

Good deeds truly are rewarded...

After their conversation, their rapport settled at eighty-five. Zhang He explained he must immediately return with his troops to Ye, and prepared to take his leave.

“Brother Junyi, may I ask, when did Lord Yuan take control of Jizhou?”

“After the New Year. Lord Han voluntarily handed Jizhou to Lord Yuan not long ago, which is precisely why I have come north to Wuji and other counties.” As he finished, Zhang He looked at Zhang Yu, his eyes suddenly brightening with an unspoken thought. “Would you consider following me in service to my lord?”

Pledge allegiance to Yuan Shao? What a joke. His childhood friend Cao Cao knew Yuan Shao all too well: “I know what kind of man Shao is—his ambition exceeds his wisdom, he is fierce in appearance but timid at heart, jealous yet lacking authority, his many soldiers are poorly coordinated, his generals arrogant and his orders inconsistent. Though his lands are vast and his granaries full, they are only enough for me to serve as his retainer!”

In other words, Yuan Shao had ambition without intelligence, put on airs but was cowardly, envied others while lacking his own merit, and couldn’t manage his officers properly... Serving such a man was less reliable than following his own uncle.

Zhang Yu grumbled inwardly, but to Zhang He, it seemed he was pondering the offer. Zhang He pressed on, “My lord is from the illustrious Yuan family of Runan, with three generations of high ministers. His court is filled with talented scholars and warriors, and with Jizhou newly acquired, he has ample troops and supplies—the time is right! Even as a former vassal of the Han, I was welcomed and trusted, given command of troops without the slightest suspicion. Such magnanimity marks him as a true leader of this age.

“And your reputation for talent is already known throughout Hebei. If you joined us, you would surely be valued and employed!”

Alas, Brother Junyi, I am a man from another world. I know Yuan Shao’s fate all too well—even you, in the end, will betray him for Cao Cao...

Despite the warm invitation, Zhang Yu politely declined, citing his youth. Zhang He, though somewhat disappointed, could not press further and after a brief stay, took his leave.

(2/3)

Another night descended. Feathery clouds sailed across the sky like sheer veils brushing the Milky Way, where countless motes of starlight flickered in and out of existence. Silent, yet the heavens seemed bustling.

A cold, crystalline crescent of moon rose into the night sky, its edges swathed in the faintest curl of chilly mist, as if a beauty emerging from her bath, draped in gauzy robes; or like the neighbor’s young daughter, not yet grown, but no longer shy, her light and outline fresh and clear, perfectly framing the night.

The hour was not yet late; the rooms in the courtyard still glowed with candlelight, the flames casting shifting ripples of light, drifting like water halos in the darkness.

A young man and woman sat quietly together in the courtyard, beneath flowing stars and moon, their companionship touched with lingering grace.

“All these years—have you suffered much?” he asked softly.

“No, not at all. How could I...” she replied.

“To have a fool for a husband—doesn’t that make you sad?”

“Don’t say that, Brother Yu!... Now, you’re so wonderful. You’re admired and esteemed by everyone. To be with you, I am the happiest girl in the world.” As she spoke, Zhen Luo’s face blossomed with a sweetness like someone steeped in honey.

Ying’er and Han Yan were both beautiful, and Han Yan was about the same age as Zhen Luo. Each was lovely in her own way, but beside Zhen Luo, there was no question—they paled in comparison.

Attractiveness and beauty are not the same, nor is beauty identical to true loveliness. In Zhang Yu’s heart, “beauty” was the highest praise he could give a woman’s appearance, yet it still did not suffice for Zhen Luo.

Tonight, she wore a robe of delicate rose-colored silk, trailing behind her a pure white, floor-length immortal’s skirt, and over her shoulders, a light yellow veil of brocade.

Her hair was dark as polished jet, styled in a cloudlike chignon, with fine, beaded phoenix flowers nestled among her graceful locks.

Her eyes shone like pearls from the Eastern Sea, her skin put snow to shame; her face was as lovely as a blossom, as pure as a lotus rising from water—she was the very image of a peach tree in mid-spring.

Whether in temperament, looks, or the slenderness of youth, she was the finest Zhang Yu had ever seen.

“In this moment, with the moon bright and the breeze gentle, and you at my side—this is the life I long for.”

“Brother Yu...” The young girl was rendered speechless, but plucked up her courage to cling to his arm, resting her delicate, sculpted head upon it, as if embracing the whole world.

From the courtyard, they could see a pool just outside—the clear, bright water reflecting the sky, turning the stars into shimmering silver ripples.

Zhang Yu tilted his head, gently leaning against Zhen Luo’s, and murmured,

“Luo’er, would you like me to sing you a song?”

“A song? Yes, yes! Your voice is so beautiful—your singing must be wonderful, too. What will you sing, Brother?”

“It’s called... ‘There Are Trees on the Mountain.’”

“Is it the ‘There are trees on the mountain, but no branches’ from the Song of the Yue Boatman?” Little Zhen Luo obviously recognized it, her delicate brows and bright eyes lighting with delight.

(3/3)

“It’s inspired by the Song of the Yue Boatman, but it’s a little different. I used to call it... an ancient-style song.”

Whispering the title, Zhang Yu recalled the lyrics in his mind, and at the same time, many memories came flooding back. His heart was filled with bittersweet emotion, and his voice took on a deep, magnetic tenderness.

“They say, the merfolk speak a language from the deep sea, weaving silks of dazzling beauty.”

Just hearing the first line, Zhen Luo was utterly captivated. “The merfolk’s tongue... how beautiful.”

“Ever since our dreams began, if we were granted such moments, even death would be sweet.”

“What song is this? What popular tune, what singing style? Why have I never heard anything like it?”

“From innocence and carefree days, until everything fell within our gaze—who can keep smiling as brightly as before?”

“It’s unlike any song I’ve heard before—it feels... strange, but—”

“From childhood friendship, to standing side by side, never to part—what storms could ever frighten us?”

“But it’s so moving, so beautiful!”

“May there be trees on the mountain, and you in my heart; last night’s starlight was just like you. Though I have no wings, our hearts are bound as one.

“May spring and autumn and heaven and earth hold only you in my eyes; through all the joys and sorrows, I have lived and loved without regret.”

...

A moonlit night, a song beneath the stars—the gifted scholar and the beautiful maiden.

Like a painting, like a poem, a dream of gentle splendor.