Fate is a massive troll. A man never knew how his story would end. He might die gloriously on the battlefield, choke to death on a fish bone at dinner, or be executed by the same emperor he had helped crown.
Hou Junji knew this better than most. He had bled for the empire in the Western Regions, returning sunburnt and half dead from dysentery, yet instead of rewards or even a decent meal, he found himself thrown into prison on charges of treason that he still did not fully understand.
Even now, he had no idea how the historical script went down. All he got was a vague unofficial spoiler from the Light Screen.
Ten years from now, apparently, Emperor Li Shimin was going to chop his head off just to make a point.
Yeah. Thanks for the loyal service. See you at the execution grounds.
Every time that cheerful little thought crossed his mind, he thought of Wang Xuance and Xuanzang. Those two went to the Western Regions and Tianzhu and came back with glory and holy books. They clearly knew what was coming for Old Hou.
And what did they say? Just "Take care of yourself." What kind of useless warning was that?
People were truly unpredictable. How could those young monks lie straight to a Duke of the Empire's face and get away with it? It was infuriating.
So here was the ultimate lesson. Never trust anyone too easily. Especially monks. Never trust a man who says he comes in peace with a completely straight face. He will swindle you blind, and you will still end up helping him count the stolen money.
Now he faced a similar level of absurdity with Liu Rengui.
The man stood before him, chest puffed out, reciting bureaucratic scripture like a monk chanting sutras. "It is only August. How can I abandon my post without authorization? Even if this is an imperial command, I cannot accept it!"
He had a point. A solid, logical, by-the-book point. Under normal circumstances, Hou Junji would have had the patience to sit down with Liu Rengui, talk about life, philosophy, maybe even neighborhood gossip, until he talked the man into submission. He would have argued until Liu Rengui nodded along happily and packed his own bags.
But today, Hou Junji decided to skip the paperwork.
"Tie him up. Take him."
His guards moved fast. Two grabbed Liu Rengui's arms. A third wrapped rope around his chest like he was bundling firewood.
"W-What are you doing?" Liu Rengui shouted, kicking at the air. "I am an imperial magistrate! This is assault! I will have you all—"
The guards ignored him completely. One lifted him by the shoulders. Another grabbed his legs. They swung him over a horse like he was a sack of cabbages.
Liu Rengui hit the saddle face-first. His hat flew off. His dignity flew off too.
"The magistrate's being kidnapped!"
A yamen runner drew his saber.
"Brothers! Stop them!"
Steel rang through the street. A dozen runners unsheathed their weapons and formed a circle around the horse. They had no idea who these armored men were, but kidnapping was bad. Very bad.
Hou Junji did not even reach for his sword.
He calmly pulled out his gold fish pouch and held up the gleaming tally.
"I am Hou Junji, General of the Left Guard and Duke of Lu. I am here on imperial orders to recruit this man."
Silence.
The lead runner looked at the gold tally. Then at Hou Junji. Then at Liu Rengui, who was currently making muffled noises through a gag someone had already shoved in his mouth.
The lead runner's sword dropped to his side with a heavy clank.
"My apologies, Duke. We did not recognize you."
He waved his men back. "Sheathe your weapons. This is an imperial summons."
The runners exchanged confused glances.
"So... we just let him go?" one asked.
The captain stared at him. "That is the Duke of Lu."
"...Right."
Another runner slid his sword back. "I thought someone was kidnapping the magistrate."
"He is," a third nodded, watching Liu Rengui thrash on the horse. "The Emperor just approved it. Maybe this is the new promotion ritual."
Within moments, every sword was sheathed. The runners stepped aside respectfully.
None of them paid attention to Liu Rengui's muffled protests. If the Emperor wanted someone tied up and dragged to Chang'an, it could only mean one thing.
The magistrate's career was about to improve dramatically.
Whether he enjoyed the promotion was another matter entirely.
Hou Junji waited until they had left Chencang well behind before finally cutting the ropes around Liu Rengui's chest.
"His Majesty summoned you, Magistrate Liu. You could have just ridden with me. Why make things difficult?" Hou Junji tried to sound reasonable, like a concerned uncle who just found his nephew trying to climb out a window.
Liu Rengui was instantly annoyed. How did this become his fault?
He glanced at the wolfish guards surrounding him and wisely decided not to push that argument. Instead, he sighed. "It is not that I refuse to obey. It is just..."
He remembered the personal letter from the Emperor and shook his head. "His Majesty wrote that he dreamed of a strange star falling over Chencang near the Taiji Palace. He used that dream as the reason to summon me."
"Dream omens are already bad luck. Plus, Chencang is west of Chang'an. The west governs metal and slaughter. That makes it doubly ominous."
Hou Junji looked at him. His face went blank. Then he slowly shook his head.
"Do you want to ride to see the Emperor on your own, or should I tie you to the saddle again?"
Liu Rengui politely declined the offer of more rope and sat very still in his seat. He looked like a man seriously reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment.
What really got under his skin was how Hou Junji kept staring at him during the ride. It wasn't a friendly look. It was the look a butcher gives a particularly juicy cut of pork. Just as Liu Rengui was about to snap, the Duke finally spoke.
"Zhengze, do you understand military affairs?"
Liu Rengui shot him a look of pure disdain. Why is this guy using my courtesy name? Did we grow up together? Did I miss a ceremony where we became sworn brothers? No. Definitely not.
Still, he answered seriously. "I served as a staff officer in Xizhou. I know a thing or two about formations."
Hou Junji ignored the disgust rolling off the younger man and continued in a lazy tone. "Tell me something, Old Liu. If I said you were destined to become one of the Tang's greatest generals, would you believe me?"
Liu Rengui gave him a long, hard stare. "Duke, I am only twenty-nine years old. In what world does that qualify me as 'Old Liu'?"
As for the famous general part, he didn't even bother commenting. His entire opinion of Tang Dukes shattered right there on the dirt road. Was this man's brain malfunctioning? Did he hit his head too hard during the Western Campaign?
Hou Junji was equally confused. When the mysterious voice from the Light Screen called him "Old Hou," it had felt warm and familiar. Like a badge of honor. Why did the same tactic fail so miserably with Liu Rengui? Was twenty-nine really too young to be called old? In Hou Junji's mind, anyone under fifty was basically a toddler playing dress-up.
Chencang was over three hundred li from Chang'an. Even though Hou Junji had handled the recruitment with efficiency, a same-day return was impossible.
So Liu Rengui spent the night in a guest room, probably wondering if he should start writing his will.
The next morning, Li Shimin spent half a shichen reviewing memorials before he finally received Liu Rengui.
Seeing a man two years younger than himself, the Emperor was in excellent spirits. He decided to try some personal charm.
Li Shimin smiled warmly as soon as Liu Rengui finished bowing. Before the young magistrate could straighten up, the Emperor clasped both of his hands with surprising enthusiasm.
"Tell me, Zhengze," he asked, "if I were to say that you possess the makings of one of the Tang's greatest generals, would you believe me?"
Liu Rengui tried to pull his hands free. The Emperor's grip was like iron. Escape was impossible.
He turned his head toward the Duke of Lu standing nearby.
Had they rehearsed this? Was the Son of Heaven also losing his mind?
His expression was so transparent that Li Shimin did not even need to ask.
The Emperor had learned by now that no amount of sweet talk mattered until they actually stepped inside Ganlu Hall and saw the truth for themselves.
He simply waved his hand and told Liu Rengui to stay in Chang'an until October. After that month, they would decide whether he stayed or left. Until then, he was to remain in the capital.
Hou Junji privately disagreed with this gentle approach. In for a penny, in for a pound. If Liu Rengui refused to cooperate when October came, Hou Junji would personally drag him into Ganlu Hall. It was all for the man's own good, after all. Nobody said destiny came with a comfortable chair.
---
Meanwhile, in another time and place entirely.
Sixteenth year of Jian'an. Chengdu.
The situation in Yongzhou and Liangzhou was not yet critical. Fa Zheng, who was managing Hanzhong affairs, departed first. Zhang Fei remained behind to wait for Zhao Yun, who would lead his personal troops northward.
The farewell happened at Wanli Bridge by the east gate. Same spot where people had been saying goodbye to armies, lovers, and failed poets for generations.
Today's send-off crew was Liu Bei, Zhuge Liang, and the entire roster of Chengdu's elite families. Liu Bei stood at the front, hands clasped behind his back. He looked every inch the benevolent lord. Beside him, Zhuge Liang fanned himself slowly, eyes scanning the crowd like he was counting who showed up and who did not.
Behind them, the Chengdu gentry stood in neat rows. Silk robes. Jade ornaments. Faces arranged in expressions of respectful sorrow.
But nobody was actually sad.
Zhao Yun approached, armor polished, spear strapped to his back. He bowed to Liu Bei first.
"My lord," Zhao Yun said.
Liu Bei stepped forward, resting both hands firmly on Zhao Yun's shoulders. "Zilong, take care of your health. Always remember, safety comes first. Our situation is good now. Do not always charge alone like at Changban."
Zhao Yun nodded. "I will be careful, my lord."
Zhuge Liang stepped forward next. He folded his fan with a sharp snap. "Zilong, master cavalry tactics thoroughly. Do not rely solely on personal valor in battle. Always think before you strike."
"Thank you, Kongming. I understand," Zhao Yun said.
Then came the whispers from the back.
"Is General Zhao really leaving?" one noble muttered to his neighbor.
"Finally," another replied, barely hiding his grin. "Will he ever come back?"
"Please do not."
Chen Dao turned his head.
Just a glance. Cold. Sharp. Like a blade sliding out of its sheath.
The whispering stopped instantly.
Behind Chen Dao, his elite guards stood motionless. Hands on sword hilts. Eyes forward. The kind of men who did not need orders to make you regret breathing too loud.
The nobles swallowed hard and stared at their feet.
A year ago, these same men had owned half of Chengdu. Now? Liu Bei had resurveyed their lands based on actual household counts. Stripped away their private retainers. Cut their power in half.
Some had switched sides. Smart move. If you are backing the guy who wants to restore the Han dynasty, losing a few acres of rice paddies is a small price to pay.
But they still hated Zhao Yun.
Because he was the one who showed up at their gates. Always calm. Always polite. Always holding a scroll that said "Please voluntarily surrender your land."
He never raised his voice. Never threatened. Just sat in their courtyards, drank their expensive tea, and explained why resistance was pointless.
You could not even claim oppression. You had signed the papers yourself.
So watching him leave was pure relief.
Zhao Yun was oblivious to their feelings.
He bowed formally to Liu Bei and the strategist. Then he cast one last cold look at the Chengdu gentry, who instinctively stepped back half a pace.
He raised his voice. "My lord, take care. Kongming, take care. Yun departs!"
With a flick of the reins and a gentle squeeze of his horse's flank, he rode north without looking back.
Zhang Fei laughed loudly beside him. "Next time I return, I will bring you both a tender lamb from Yongzhou and Liangzhou! Just wait for it!"
Three hundred personal guards followed Zhao Yun in perfect formation. The cavalry unit rolled forward like scattered clouds and vanished into the distance.
Watching them disappear, Liu Bei showed no sadness. He smiled. "Our warriors are eager to return north."
Zhuge Liang nodded in agreement. "Only by returning north can they truly gallop free."
He understood clearly that Zhao Yun had been trapped since Jingzhou.
During the conquest of the four southern commanderies, terrain forced Zhao Yun to dismount and fight as infantry. Later, while stationed at Gong'an, both strategic analysis and Guan Yu's decisions proved that naval power was key in Jingzhou and Xiangyang. There was no stage for Zhao Yun there.
That was why Zhao Yun had begged to join the Shu campaign. The route from Yiling to Jiangzhou, then to Chengdu, was treacherous. Yet Zhao Yun never complained. He finally found his opening in the narrow terrain of Langzhong and won a decisive victory that restored his reputation.
Zilong's blade was sharp once more.
Liu Bei laughed. "We are not Emperor Xizong, hiding in Chengdu while the empire burns. Cao Cao will not march here to fight us. The day we return north is not far off."
Zhuge Liang agreed. Stabilizing Chengdu was necessary to secure their rear. Over a year had passed. The people prospered, the treasury overflowed, and commerce and learning flourished.
It was now November. The sugarcane planted south of Chengdu last year had been harvested. Sugar refinery output climbed steadily. Trade routes opened before armies moved. Red sugar, rare white snow sugar, and Shu brocade flowed east to Jiangling by boat, north to Hanzhong on horseback, and south to Nanzhong where tribal leaders traded eagerly for them.
Both Zhuge Liang and Liu Bei knew that within two or three months, they could appoint a capable governor to maintain order and follow established policies. Their destiny lay northward, contesting the Central Plains against Cao Cao.
With this shared understanding, Chengdu's development accelerated quietly.
Taking advantage of the agricultural off-season, literacy schools for adult commoners launched as planned.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Chengdu.
Old Man Li sat on his wooden porch, squinting at his daughter like she had just grown a second head.
"My little girl," he muttered. "A teacher now?"
Li Shu blushed. "Do not be silly, Father. Only Master Zhuge deserves that title. I merely teach people to recognize characters."
"Characters?" Old Man Li scratched his head. "You are teaching grown men how to write?"
"Yes, Father."
"How many?"
"Thirty this week."
Old Man Li looked at her. Thirty grown men, sitting in a room, learning to write their own names. A year ago, none of them had held a brush.
"That is..." He trailed off. "That is actually pretty impressive."
Li Shu smiled. "Master Zhuge says literacy is the foundation of a strong state."
"Master Zhuge says a lot of things," Old Man Li grumbled. "But I suppose he is right about this."
Old Man Li leaned back against his chair and watched his daughter quietly arrange her teaching materials.
In an age when most commoners could not even write their own names, she was teaching thirty adults to read. It did not look like history in the making, yet he had the strange feeling that this was exactly what it was.