The spring rain of the third month fell in a fine, unbroken drizzle.
It was the kind of rain that blessed both army and field alike, soft enough not to hinder marching troops, yet steady enough to nourish the tender shoots just breaking through the earth. Soldiers found their steps lighter beneath it, and the common people looked upon the darkening soil with growing hope.
In Zigui, the people had still not seen Imperial Uncle Liu with their own eyes.
Yet before his face ever reached them, his reputation already had proven to be a man of his word.
By the middle of the second month, officials from Jingzhou had already arrived under military escort, traveling from village to village to instruct the locals in the proper methods of spring cultivation.
At first, Master Li had not thought much of them.
These so-called agrarian officials looked nothing like the bureaucrats he remembered from the north.
There were no tall court caps, no elegant hairpins, no white brush-pens tucked behind their ears as marks of status. Their clothes were plain, their sleeves rolled, their trouser hems splattered with mud. Standing in the fields, they looked little different from Zhao A, who was currently knee-deep in wet earth beside the seedlings.
Could men like this truly be called officials? Back in Yanzhou, even the servants of the great clans carried themselves with more airs.
But it did not take long for those doubts to vanish.
Whether it was the selection of grain seeds, the timing of soaking and sprouting, the method of transplanting young rice shoots, or the proper layering of compost pits, these men spoke with effortless certainty.
There was no hesitation in their words.
No empty posturing.
Only the confidence of men who had done this work with their own hands.
The turning point came when one of them, a white-haired old man surnamed Guo, casually remarked that his own fields in Gong'an yielded three and a half dan per mu.
From that moment on, Master Li and Zhao A immediately changed how they addressed him.
"Excellency Guo."
The old man nearly jumped in alarm.
"Don't, don't call me that," Old Guo said hurriedly, waving both hands. "I'm just an old farmer from Gong'an. What kind of excellency am I?"
Standing on the ridge between the fields, Old Guo pointed toward the river in the distance.
"This place is much like Gong'an. It sits close to the Great River, and the land is good once it gets proper water."
His lined face brightened as he spoke.
"Once Young Master Jiang finishes building the water-driven workshops, you'll see the difference. No more carrying buckets on your shoulders all day. The great wheel will draw water straight from the Yangtze and lift it into the channels."
He swept his arm over the fields before them.
"Give it a year or two, and all this land will become prime farmland."
As he spoke, Gong'an almost sounded like paradise.
Machines replaced human labor.
Water flowed at command.
Fields yielded abundantly.
And officials actually came to the countryside to teach commoners without the slightest trace of condescension.
Zhao A could hardly believe it.
"Old Guo, if you came all the way here to help us plant, what about your own land?"
Old Guo laughed, utterly unconcerned.
"My eldest son entered the paper workshop last year. He earns good money every month, so we hired two laborers for the spring season."
Then he added, almost as an afterthought,
"Besides, Military Advisor Zhuge is paying me for this trip."
Both Master Li and Zhao A froze.
Paying him? Actually paying someone to come teach farmers?
For a long while, neither of them knew what to say.
Finally, Zhao A voiced the worry that had long lingered in his heart.
"Old Guo… aren't you afraid the northern armies will come?"
The old man paused.
Then he burst into loud laughter.
"Afraid of what?"
He slapped his thigh.
"Last year some Cao general came, that fellow Yue something, and tried to invade. General Guan Yunchang smashed him at Jiangling."
His eyes gleamed with absolute faith.
"Those six thousand surrendered troops are still there building city walls."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone.
"Everyone in Gong'an says General Guan Yunchang is invincible under heaven."
Master Li remained silent. Having fled south from Yanzhou, he had seen the terrifying might of Cao Cao's armies firsthand.
He had heard that the victory at Red Cliffs was merely a stroke of bad luck for Cao Cao.
Yet, looking at Old Guo's serene expression, Zhao A felt a sudden surge of longing. He envied Guo's hired laborers and the many ways to earn a living in Gong'an.
If Zigui stays under the Imperial Uncle's rule, Zhao A thought, could I eventually become like this Old Guo?
---
Gan Gui was born for the river.
After obtaining leave from Guan Yu, he boarded a small skiff and sailed east along the Yangtze. With favorable currents and practiced hands, he reached Dantu in barely two days.
The moment he arrived at the western district, he made straight for a familiar residence.
A silver bell still hung beside the gate. Without waiting for permission, he strode straight in.
"Old man! I'm back!"
In the main hall, Gan Ning was wrapped in a luxurious silk robe, sipping a cup of warmed wine. The commotion Gan Gui caused brought a flicker of joy to his face, but he quickly masked it with a stern expression.
"You didn't return for the New Year.
His tone turned cold.
"Do you still remember this as your home?"
Gan Gui ignored the scolding.
He strode over, snatched the cup from his father's hand, and drained it in one gulp.
Then he smacked his lips."Not spicy enough."
Gan Ning merely poured himself another.
"You seem to be doing well under Liu Bei."
Gan Gui gave a snort.
"Better than how the Marquis of Wu treats you here."
The words hung heavily in the air. His gaze shifted past his father.
On the wall behind him hung an old brocade sail. It was a relic from Yizhou.
Back after Red Cliffs, Gan Ning had polished it daily. Now it lay thick with dust.
For a long time, neither father nor son spoke.
After another cup of wine, he spoke softly.
"That brocade sail... if you think you can use it, take it with you."
Gan Gui blinked. Then, without hesitation:
"The eight hundred guards too. And Uncle Gan's people."
Gan Ning nodded. "Take them."
Gan Gui stared.
Too easy.
Far too easy.
"Eight hundred men are too conspicuous anyway. The Marquis of Sun has decided to move the capital to Moling,"
Gan Xingba explained tonelessly. "When we depart in April, I will send them directly to Jiangling to find you."
Gan Gui's expression changed.
"Moling, Moving the capital?" Gan Gui was confused.?"
Gan Ning continued,
"When we relocate in the fourth month, I'll send the men directly to Jiangling."
"Take the silver bell from the gate with you too," Gan Xingba added, his voice tinged with a weary lack of interest.
"Since you've joined Liu Bei, don't linger in Dantu. Get back to Jiangling as soon as possible. And remember to tell the Governor of Jingzhou..."
His jaw tightened.
"Prepare for war with Sun Wu."
---
Without waiting for questions, he dismissed his son, claiming he was exhausted and needed sleep. Standing in the courtyard, Gan Gui pondered his father's words. He could feel the complexity of his father's emotions and a silent expectation placed upon his shoulders.
But what had happened?
Gan Gui was not uneducated. The Gan family traced their lineage back to Gan Mao and Gan Luo; they were a family of scholars. His rough, rowdy personality was merely a byproduct of living on the river, not a sign of stupidity.
What was the purpose of moving the capital? Gan Gui narrowed his eyes. Moling, modern-day Nanjing, could suppress the Wu clans while remaining somewhat independent of them. Moving the capital so soon after Zhou Yu's death meant the local great clans must be stirring up trouble again.
But moving the capital further from Jingzhou should, in theory, lead to more peace, not less. Yet his father warned of war. With the pro-war Zhou Yu gone and the moderate Lu Su at the Marquis's Sun side, why would war be imminent?
His mind turned rapidly.
Then the answer struck him.
Lü Meng.
If Zhou Yu's death had opened the door, then Lü Meng had now stepped through it.
Lü Meng and his father had never seen eye-to-eye.
If Lü Meng was being given total authority, then his father's greatest fear was coming true: the Marquis would sideline Gan Xingba. From now on, the Marquis would value his father's strength but ignore his brain.
Gan Gui felt a sudden weight on his shoulders, the weight of the entire Gan clan. For the first time, he felt the pressure of time. The Gan clan was now relying on him. He needed to earn merit, to become an indispensable figure under Liu Bei, and to grow strong enough to shield his clan and his father.
But for now, the most important thing was the battleship blueprints.
Fortunately, blueprints for the Eastern Wu's massive ships weren't hard to find; they weren't standard warships so much as floating palaces for the Marquis.
Using his connections and his father's name, Gan Gui secured the designs by the next day.
He packed the brocade sail and the silver bell, bowed deeply three times toward his father's study, and turned to leave without looking back.
---
Far to the north, Cao Cao finally received the first good news he had heard in months.
Zhou Yu was dead.
But, everything else had been infuriating.
Liu Bei had secured Nan Commandery.
The spy reports from Jingzhou grew more alarming by the day.
Water-powered workshops.
Mass grain movements.
Military engineering.
And the reports of heavy losses from Yue Jin.
How had Liu Bei become dangerous again so quickly?
Cao Cao narrowed his eyes.
No, Cao Cao thought, I must strike the Yong zhou and Liangzhou provinces first.
He understood the strategic board perfectly.
If he ignored the northwest and marched south against Sun Wu, Liu Bei would simply use the breathing room to solidify his hold on Jiangling and advance into Yizhou.
From there, Liu Bei could take Hanzhong, descend into the Guanzhong plains, and repeat the path of the First Emperor of Han, Gaozu. If that happened, the game would be over.
Therefore, he had to take Guanzhong, Hanzhong, and Yizhou before Liu Bei could get his hands on them.
Thus, before winter's chill had fully faded, mobilization orders were already moving east to west.
---
By mid-March, Ma Chao, far away in the Liang Province, received news from the East: Zhong Yao, the Colonel of Sili, was leading General Xiahou Yuan through the Guanzhong passes to attack Zhang Lu in Hanzhong.
Faced with this massive threat, the various warlords of Guanzhong temporarily set aside their differences to discuss the situation. Yang Qiu didn't even bother with a detailed analysis; he felt Cao Cao was insulting their intelligence.
"This is clearly the 'Borrowing a Path to Conquer Guo' strategy!"
The others agreed. Their literary education might be lacking, but their tactical sense was sharp.
Cao Cao claimed he was attacking Hanzhong, But who could guarantee he would not turn on them halfway? What if he allied with Zhang Lu to crush them? What if he took Hanzhong and then launched a pincer attack from both the East and the South?
For the Guanzhong warlords, agreeing to Cao Cao's request was out of the question. The room was a cacophony of shouting, and while men like Zhang Heng and Liang Xing voiced their opinions, their eyes kept drifting toward the general at the head of the table.
Ma Chao, Ma Mengqi.
He sat in complete silence, gaze fixed on the ceiling beams. At the moment, he was staring idly at the ceiling, his mind seemingly elsewhere.
As the discussion died down, Yang Qiu blurted out, "General Ma, are you worried about your father, the Commandant of the Guard? Do you intend to surrender to Cao?"
It was common knowledge that Ma Teng had entered the imperial court and been named Commandant of the Guard, essentially a hostage.
Ma Mengqi's gaze finally focused. He countered with a question of his own. "General Yang, since you can see that Cao Cao is using a trick to conquer us, what do you think I should do?"
Before Yang Qiu could answer, Ma Mengqi laid out the logic. "If I rise in rebellion, I lose my reputation for filial piety. If I surrender, I lose my integrity. Tell me, General Yang, if you were in my position, what would you choose?"
Is this truly Ma Mengqi speaking? Yang Qiu and Zhang Heng exchanged confused glances. They had come here to persuade Ma Chao to rise in rebellion; why did it sound like he was trying to talk them into surrendering?
Far too calculating.
"General Ma..." Yang Qiu started, but he found himself at a loss for words. The three generals felt as if they were seeing a ghost.
The ambitious, hot-headed Ma Chao was gone. Despite the crisis, he was calmly advising them to go and persuade Han Sui first.
Once the others had left, Ma Chao pulled out a letter from Liu Bei and read it one more time with a cold sneer. The Imperial Uncle wasn't wrong: if Cao Cao invaded Guanzhong, what did it matter to him? After all, the old man and the entire family were already in Cao Cao's hands. Therefore, if Cao Mengde came, he would surely be coming to kill Han Sui!
He would let Yang Qiu and the others persuade Han Sui, and then wait for Han Sui to come and beg for his help. As for Liu Bei's suggestion in the letter, to temporarily submit to Cao Cao until Liu Bei secured Yizhou and Hanzhong, then wait for an opportunity to restore the Han... pedantic!!!
Why couldn't the restoration of the Han be done by him, Ma Chao? He was a descendant of the great General Ma Yuan, after all!
Once he goaded Han Sui into defeating Cao Cao and rescued the Emperor, and if the old man was lucky enough to still be alive, he'd see if his father still dared to call him a "bastard son."
Ma Chao tightened his fist, crushing the letter into a ball and tossing it into the brazier. He watched in silence as it turned to ash.