"Son. You don't have to be the perfect filial one."
The father lying in the hospital bed spoke those words.
"You don't need to make time to visit every single time."
"Don't say that, Dad."
Even though he could barely sit up on his own, whenever I visited, Father always struggled to rise and greet me.
"Is that Choi lady doing her job properly?"
"I'm not the type to suspect people without cause."
"No, it's not that I don't want to suspect her or anything..."
"Choi takes care of everything. It's just that I don't want it."
He had hired help.
Even if it meant a hefty chunk coming out of his pension every month, there was no other choice.
Someone had said something like that about it.
-You should've done your filial duty before your dad ended up bedridden.
I hadn't known.
Living frantically in Seoul, I hadn't noticed at all how much his health had deteriorated.
If I'd visited earlier, could I have caught the cancer in time?
Every time he loaded a box of homegrown produce into my trunk with those dirt-stained hands, insisting it was his gift, had I even properly looked at those hands darkening with age?
No.
If anything, I think I got annoyed.
Complaining why he kept giving me stuff that dirtied up the trunk.
Just go to the mart and buy it if you need it.
If I'd known that simply accepting those gifts, simply visiting more often was what filial piety meant, maybe things wouldn't have come to this.
If I started showing a little more care from now on, could a miracle happen and he'd suddenly sit up?
"More importantly, what are you reading?"
"The Analects."
"Pardon?"
"I was bored."
Father caressed the book with his wrinkled hands.
"I wanted to read a bit more of the ones I'd seen before, before I go."
"Don't talk like that."
"Heh heh heh. Remember? When you were little, I made you read this. Did you hate it that much?"
If he asked if I hated it, then yes, back then I did.
Honestly, even now, I just skim past it thinking 'oh, that exists,' without really remembering the last time I cracked open the Analects, let alone any book.
"The books you showed me had way too many Chinese characters, Dad."
"True, plenty of Chinese characters. So, do you read other books at least?"
"Well..."
"Read wuxia novels or something?"
"..."
Back in high school, I used to borrow books from the bookstore a lot.
I got beaten badly for skipping proper studies and not reading 'real' books.
"It's fine. Lately, I've been thinking... what can I say, even those are books. Makes me wonder why I clung to them so tightly."
"Dad."
Part of me wished he'd just yell at me like he used to.
"Son."
"Yes, Father."
"What do you think filial piety is?"
"..."
I couldn't answer that question.
"To me, it's giving your all with sincerity."
"..."
"Whatever you did before, you're doing plenty well now. You can't change the past. That's the realm of miracles from the heavens."
"Dad."
"So even if others say 'too little too late,' ignore them. You're giving me more than enough already."
Father reached for my hand, then pulled back his frail one and gave a wry smile.
"I'm glad you came despite being busy. Head on home now."
"But still..."
"I want to rest a bit. And there are still some I haven't finished."
Father pointed to the stack of books by his bedside.
They were ones the caregiver had borrowed: volumes one through ten, lined up in order.
It was Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
Books I'd never read, only vaguely heard of in passing.
Ones I'd ignored, saying I'd rather read one more wuxia novel.
Ones where, if a Three Kingdoms tale popped up in a wuxia story, I'd think 'just stick to the Legend of the Condor Heroes or whatever.'
The classic that got me scolded by friends: 'How do you not know Three Kingdoms?'
Honestly, ones where I wondered why I needed to know some ancient foreign country's stories.
"Dad."
"Yes?"
"Is it... fun?"
"...Interesting, you mean?"
Father grinned and handed me volume one.
"When you've read it all, let's talk about it then. I'll ask Choi to extend the loan."
And so, I received a single book from my father.
I thought sharing my thoughts on volume one might make him happy, but the moment I got home, I collapsed into bed.
That day.
Father passed away.
The funeral ended faster than expected.
Or rather, it felt like time itself had slipped away too quickly.
Five full days of events and people, yet returning to the empty house felt like chunks of time had been erased.
"..."
There weren't many belongings to speak of.
A farmer who'd raised an athlete in the countryside had no fancy machinery, and Mother had passed when I was young.
What now?
My line of work let me earn with my body, no need for office commutes, so time was relatively free.
Colleagues told me to take a few days off, offered condolences; some even subtly asked if they could help sort things.
I turned them down.
Not because it was a burden, but because I wasn't so mentally wrecked that I needed that much fuss.
If I wanted some comfort for the heart...
"China, huh."
While sorting Father's things, I found a photo album.
Pictures full of him in his youth.
Quite faded, but shots of a young couple and a chubby kid.
The mountain photos looked ordinary, but I could make out the Chinese characters behind young Father.
[Announcement: Flight from Incheon to Beijing...]
When I snapped out of it, I'd already finished check-in.
I'd packed light: some clothes, no Chinese beyond basic greetings, just the family photo tucked close as I boarded.
That day.
For some reason, it felt especially off.
The plane was eerily empty.
In movies, flights are packed, but mine had unusually few passengers.
'They fly even with so few people?'
The thought crossed my mind. Even recalled that viral clip of a guy being the sole passenger, chatting with crew due to airline schedules.
"Mister!"
"Not mister, miss."
"Oh, then oppa?"
A high school girl plopped down next to me, striking up chatter.
Caught off guard, but she seemed to want me as a captive audience for her trivial talk.
"What you're watching now—is it your first time? Or a rewatch? It's fun, right? Three Kingdoms."
"Huh?"
"Three Kingdoms. This is the Three Kingdoms drama. Still episode one, but anyway..."
Fate?
Or some incomprehensible curse?
Clunk.
The plane hitting Chinese airspace jolted unusually hard.
"Hey, this—"
Beeeep!!
Sudden turbulence?
Or a downdraft?
No idea.
Some inexplicable phenomenon struck abruptly, and with a shock like the world flipping, came a stab deep into my lungs.
"Kyaaak!"
"...Danger!!"
Consciousness fled.
...
...
...
When I opened my eyes again, it was to a completely new ceiling, and I was a baby.
Reincarnation, I suppose that's what you'd call it.
I'd seen it plenty in wuxia novels.
Going back in time, possessing someone, or reborn with memories intact.
I'd been born the child of a hunter in some backwoods village in ancient China—some wuxia world I couldn't place.
China because my apparent parents spoke Chinese.
Ancient because their clothes and manners were even more archaic than my childhood memories, like the poorest in historical dramas.
Hunter's kid because that's how they fed me: farming scraps and hunting beasts for pelts to sell.
At first, I panicked.
Being a baby was bewildering enough, but I had no clue what world this was.
'How can I grow to ten without grasping the setting?'
If only I could gather info, but my environment was too dire for calm sleuthing.
Born in a remote hamlet ringed by sheer mountains—
"Il-ho! Run! Hurry!"
Bandits.
No sign of officials anywhere as they overran our decent mountain village.
"Ah, Father...! Mother!"
"Run qui—argh!"
Second time.
Losing parents.
Even to a kid who could barely call them that, they'd given endless love despite poverty.
"Brother! This one's not running?"
"Yeah. Milk not even dry on his head."
"Catch him or kill him?"
"Killing kids is bad luck, but this one's glare rubs me wrong."
The bandit—my parents' killer—approached.
Bloody sword in hand, he swung at the child like it was nothing.
Am I dying?
The thought hit just as—
Whiiing!
An arrow whistled from afar.
"Urk, enemy!"
It grazed the bandit's arm, carving a long snake-like gash; he fled with his men.
Looking back, they probably mistook it for official troops.
Otherwise, why flee from one middle-aged man bursting from the brush with a bow?
"You alright...?"
The man wore scholar's robes, bow in hand.
"Child, child! Pull yourself together!"
"..."
"Don't die! Urk, missus! Doctor! Ah, no! Live. I'll save you for sure...!"
That was my first meeting with my master.
Ten years.
After my parents died, treating my master as family, ten years to age twenty.
"Your martial prowess fits a general, but scholarly wise, you're doomed."
My master—who'd taken me in and taught me combat, archery, riding—said flatly.
"You're not slacking on purpose, right?"
"Hey, this is me trying."
Chinese characters were tough.
Especially since many differed from what I knew.
And I had another excuse.
"Master. Instead of memorizing one more character, why not shoot one more of those rotten barbarians?"
Kill bandits.
Kill barbarians.
Thankfully, this body had talent for martial arts.
"The Xiongnu would faint laughing. A youth nailing arrows into brows at a hundred paces can't compose a thirty-character poem."
"Talk works fine."
"Talk alone suffices?"
"If there's a martial arts manual, I'd learn Chinese for it, but there isn't."
We had martial arts, but no manuals.
I'd slyly asked about 'Mount Hua' or 'South Palace' just in case—
"Spend that time memorizing one more line from the Analects."
Master just lightly thwacked my head with the rolled-up book.
"I've given up on you memorizing the Four Books and Three Classics or Sun Tzu's Art of War. Just nail the Analects; that'll help your life."
"You're underestimating your disciple too much."
"Don't go bragging I taught you. My acquaintances would chuckle if they heard someone like you came from me."
"What?"
"A Flying General born under Advisor Ginae, wise but not clever!"
"That means stupid?"
"Yes, our disciple's strong. Isn't that enough?"
I wanted to argue, but couldn't.
Chinese tormented me in every way.
It hadn't been this bad before; in high school, I memorized level-one characters fine.
"Sometimes your body outpaces your brain, like a genius trapped in a fool's—or worse—head."
I took Master's assessment at face value.
Sorry to my birth parents in this world, but your kid wasn't destined for intellectual fame.
"Anyway, what of Ding Jianyang's proposal?"
Ding Jianyang.
This era's naming was odd.
"Who's that?"
"...Bing Province Governor Ding Yuan. Courtesy name Jianyang."
"Ah, that bigwig."
Commoners got casual tags like 'Old Zhang's third' or 'Il-ho,' 'Yi-nam,' 'Sam-nyeo,' but notables got fancy new names.
"Master. I don't know details, but weren't you higher than Bing Province Governor?"
"Ho, why think that?"
"Probably court, central. Higher than a provincial land boss, right?"
Master hadn't revealed his past, but I guessed.
'High official ousted in politics, went into seclusion.'
I might not know the world, but I read people sharp.
"Why so sure?"
"Saw Ding Yuan bow to you."
"Just from that?"
"Ding Yuan doesn't strike me as one who'd bow from age or politeness."
"...Hahaha!!"
Master burst into laughter.
"Right, right! Your wisdom matches that beastly strength and instinct perfectly. Someday, meet a Zhuge Liang-level sage—not those Song-Hou-Wei types."
"Lumping my lieutenants together like that?"
"Ahem. Sorry. But those three... your end with them won't be smooth."
"Based on what?"
"Stargazing and astrology? Believe it?"
"I don't buy that stuff."
"You should."
Master said.
"Soon, great upheaval in the realm."
"Upheaval...?"
"Yes. Chaos engulfing the Central Plains, a historic calamity grieving the myriad masses."
Master prophesied.
"Not mere stargazing babble. Eunuchs hoarding Danggu gold, filling the court with yin energy. Emperor lost in skirts sent by them, ignoring state affairs. Bandits swarm locally; warlords like Ding Yuan muster strong fighters everywhere."
Ah.
I know this.
"So from the court's view, local warlords might form states and rebel?"
I'd learned in history class.
Late Three Kingdoms.
Corrupt Unified Silla court lets Gung Ye and Gyeon Hwon rise, founding Goryeo and Later Baekje!
Memories of dozing with Dad on weekends to King Taejo tales.
Liberal arts textbook background flickering back.
"Really, sometimes you make teaching worthwhile...!"
Master lamented deeply.
"Tragic. The finest warrior has no stage to shine. What greater pity?"
"Plenty of words out there; can't fight without them?"
I countered Master's regret head-on.
"People can lack smarts. But I'm not deficient overall—just specific. Not dumb or foolish."
"..."
"For lacks, hire experts. Pay them well to fill gaps."
Like a boss hiring staff.
Or a company getting accountants or tax consultants.
"Delegate what I can't; focus my best on what I can."
I'll give my all to what I can do.
"...Good. What can you do?"
"Heavy lifting."
I know martial arts.
"Right. Ding Yuan doesn't want you as mere soldier. Leadership unproven for general, but your might... in Bing Province—no, perhaps unrivaled under heaven."
"That good?"
"Stronger than any warrior I've seen. No arrogance."
"Of course... but..."
"Good attitude: humble despite power. So why does reading hurt your head?"
"..."
"Enough. Words in books gain meaning only through action."
Master said.
"'Learning with review brings joy.' But I say go further."
"What is it?"
"Action."
Like elementary wisdom class.
"Knowing xia and justice but not acting makes it dead knowledge."
"True."
Knowledge without action is meaningless.
"I know you're exceptional. No longer a child."
"..."
"Disciple."
"Yes."
"For office, you need name and courtesy name."
"Name and..."
"Not casual 'Chun-sik.' A name for world and history."
"..."
History's great general.
Chun-sik.
"What did your parents call you?"
"Il-ho."
"Common for firstborn. Not formal."
Master declared.
"If alive, they'd suggest new surname and name at your rise."
"..."
"Conveniently, one's here best at naming."
"You'll name me?"
"Master's duty. And mine, who raised you."
Master.
"I've set your courtesy name. Name too. Surname pending."
"..."
Surname.
Can't use past life's.
"Did your father mention any clan?"
"...If possible."
But.
"I'd like the courtesy name of Father's favorite general."
"Courtesy name?"
"Yes."
To make a name, why not that.
"What was it? Posthumous? Taegong...? West Chu Overlord...?"
"Father's top general's was Yeo—"
Close call.
"Yeo? Hm... Not Yu, and You odd for surname."
Master mulled 'Yeo' awhile.
"Lü."
He wrote before me with brush.
"Born in barren Bing Province, your nature greedy as fate, yet wrapped in parental love and master's teachings into xia and filial heart rivaling finest silk. I name you Bu."
Master bestowed my name.
"Lü Bu. Courtesy name Fengxian."
"…Pardon?"
"Don't like Master's gift?"
"No, it's not that."
That name.
"Lü Bu Fengxian..."
"Tch! Who says full? Lü Fengxian or just Lü Bu."
"...I'm Lü Bu?"
"Want a change?"
"..."
Ah.
"Any other Lü Bu in Bing Province?"
"Maybe. Similar sounds despite different characters, or alike courtesy names, happen."
Master said.
"Bing Province's strongest warrior is you. Lü Bu."
"..."
I.
Was Lü Bu.
Ten years later.
At twenty-nine, bearing the name Lü Bu.
After Master died, massive bandit hordes rampaged.
Yellow-scarved thieves rose like a cult, spreading infamy to Bing Province under some banner.
Yellow Turban Rebels.
"The Azure Heaven is dead; Yellow Heaven stands!"
Romance of the Three Kingdoms