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Chapter Text

Greetings, greetings… to travelers and merchants, pilgrims and mendicants, officials and wayfarers, or whomever you may be passing down this lane. Evening draws near—why not rest here awhile? There is a clear spring from which you may drink to quench your thirst or bathe to soothe your weary body. Fruits hang plentifully on the trees, ripe for the picking. And the trees offer shade enough to shelter you through the night.

But before slumber claims you, allow me to lull you with a tale. Come, gather ‘round and listen to a legend little known… the tale of a woman whose name is not written in the court chronicles, whose story no poet ever composed. Her true name I shall keep close to my heart—for in this tale, she shall be the heroine, and thus I have given her a name anew.

This lady, the wife of a gallant warrior famed across the dying days of the Eastern Han… the mother of two sons and a daughter of the House of Guan… was, to those who knew her, a gentle healer, a wise woman, a protector of the poor and sick. A motherly figure to villagers, a comfort to the suffering.

But in a world where the land itself turns traitorous and decays beneath one’s feet…
What fate could befall one whose life is bound to his?
What griefs must she bear?
What losses await her and those she holds dear?
Who will be parted… who will weep… who will lose all, even heart, soul, and life?

So now, dear listeners…grab your food or drink, pull a blanket tight, and stoke the flames till they dance bright in the cool night air.
Come closer… Closer still.
I, Wu Ming, the nameless minstrel… shall tell the tale…

Long ago, before you or I had drawn our first breath, let us return to a distant past—in the reign of Emperor Ling of Han, the Son of Heaven. And the place where our story begins is a humble town called Hedong.
It was an ordinary summer day. In a bamboo forest, the wind stirred gently, rustling through the stalks and whispering through the leafy canes. All along the narrow trail, peace reigned in this untouched cradle of nature. The cool air soothed the skin more gently than the bare sunlit lands beyond.
There, in that shaded grove, walked a quiet youth—his gaze sharp as a hawk’s, eyes surveying the woods with silent wonder. Beneath the calm, a flicker of excitement danced in his heart, stirred by the unfamiliar beauty of the place.
The wind played with the hems of his sea-colored robe and the loose end of the cloth tying his hair in a topknot. He closed his eyes, smiling softly, arms outstretched as if to embrace the breeze, the golden sun, the serene joy of this sacred bamboo path.
But then—

“Help! Somebody, help me!”
A shrill voice tore through the air like an arrow, shattering the tranquility.
The youth’s eyes snapped open. He turned, searching for the source of the cry.
He sprinted toward the voice. The path grew rough, thick with underbrush, climbing rocky hills. Still, he pressed on—undaunted by the sweat soaking through his robes or the red flush spreading across his cheeks. Though breathless and stumbling, he did not stop.
The path led him out of the bamboo grove, into a clearing beneath tall pines and broad canopies. And there, nestled in the forest like a forgotten shrine, stood a temple.
“Miss! Please don’t jump!”
“I know that, you dolt! I’m not stupid—I’ll break my legs or die!”

The boy looked up—and there she was. A small girl, no more than eight or nine, clung desperately to a precarious pine branch. Below her, two young women—likely her maids—cried out in panic, circling helplessly.
The youth hesitated. What should he do?

Should I talk her down? But if she’s too scared to move, she might fall.
Should I climb up? But this pine is nothing like the trees back home—if I slip, I’ll be in trouble too…

Snap!
A sharp crack of breaking wood. A scream.

There was no time to think. He ran. Arms raised.
And just as fate would have it, the girl fell—right into his arms.
She trembled, clutching his sleeves, still in shock. But her wide, glistening eyes stared directly into his.
In that instant, time itself seemed to halt.
No more cries. No more noise.
In the world of those two children… everything stood still.
Their eyes locked—and without a single word, each knew what the other was thinking.

Evening fell over a modest home.
Inside, a man nearing old age sat reading by the glow of a lantern. His eyes drifted toward the balcony and door again and again, restless with worry.
At last, a servant entered. “Master.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“There’s someone at the door. They said they’ve brought your daughter back.”
He stood up at once and rushed to the gate.

There she was—his precious daughter—safe and sound, flanked by her two maids. The little girl ran into his arms, and he embraced her tightly. She was all he had left of his late wife, taken by illness years ago.
After smothering her in kisses and tears, he inspected her clothes—muddy and wrinkled. His brows furrowed, part puzzled, part exasperated.

“You’ve been up to mischief again, haven’t you, Ah-Qing?” he sighed.
“Not really, Father,” she said brightly. “We went to the shrine, and I got bored… so I climbed a pine tree.”
Any other parent might have raised a rod at such behavior. But he merely clutched his chest and groaned faintly, before sighing and asking, “And… how did you get down, exactly?”

“Well… at first I was going to climb down, but then…” she fidgeted.
“But what?”
“…The branch broke and I fell,” she admitted.
The man nearly fainted. Servants rushed to steady him.
“But don’t worry, Father!” she clung to his arm. “Someone caught me. I’m safe!”
“Who?”

Before she could answer, the door behind them opened.
A tall boy in sea-blue robes stepped inside. He bowed respectfully to the elder, hands clasped in greeting. All eyes turned toward him—curious, contemplative.
The master of the house stepped forward, studying the boy from head to toe.
Though only fourteen, he stood as tall as a young man of eighteen. His skin bore a reddish hue, and his garments shimmered like sunlight on the sea. His eyes—long and elegant as a swan’s—and brows arched like silk moths.

This was no ordinary youth.

“What is your name, young man?”
“I am Yu of the Guan family, sir.”
The elder nodded slowly. “Ah… the only son of the Guan household. Please, come in.” He motioned the youth into the home, instructing the servants to prepare a proper meal and treat the guest with utmost care.

And thus… the story began.
Are you ready, dear listeners?
Ready for the next chapter, spun word by word until the final line?
Ready for laughter, joy, and the warmth that tales bring?
Ready for sorrow… for tears shed quietly in the dark?
Ready to journey backward through time, into an age you’ve never known…
To meet people whose names are new, but whom—I promise—
…you will come to love.
Well then—if you’re ready…
Follow me

Chapter Text

Oh? What’s that you asked, dear traveler sitting there on the log?
“You’re not going to tell us more about the characters, Black Cat of Xianluo?”

Ah! You’re right—I’ve rambled on and on, telling stories about a girl who fell from a tree and a boy who brought her home… but I forgot to introduce our main characters properly! How very careless of me.
Let me begin, then, with our protagonist—still just a youth of the Guan family. A boy without a beard, not yet the glorious general depicted in murals and worshipped in temples across the land…
Guan Yu, who would one day become a hero and a god known throughout the world—no one knows exactly when he was born. It is believed he came not long after Liu Bei (161 CE), and was several years older than Zhang Fei.

And no—don’t believe those popular folktales claiming he once sold tofu or beans! Those are later inventions. The truth is far more dignified: Guan Yu was born into a noble family. He was a gentleman. A virtuous scholar-warrior.
There’s a tale that when he was around ten or eleven years old, Guan Yu read through the Spring and Autumn Annals in a single night and day—and memorized every line, word for word. Do you see? His mind was as sharp as his blade would one day be.
He had beauty like a deity, the poise of nobility, and the heart of a righteous man. What more could a father ask for in a son-in-law?

“Hey, you black cat! What did you just say? A son-in-law?!”
Nyaa~! I didn’t say anything, I swear! You’ll see when the time comes, hehehe.

Now, about our heroine… Before I introduce her, I must tell you about her father.

His name was Hu Bin, courtesy name Qizhong. Though officially recorded as Han, the people around him never fully saw him as one of their own. You see, the Hu family was believed to descend from foreigners—some claimed they hailed from “the Hu tribes,” others whispered of roots in Shendu (India), Xiongnu nomads, or even merchants from the desert lands of Dayuan.
Because of this, some viewed the Hus with suspicion. They looked different—sharp eyes, arched brows, high-bridged noses, full lips, pale skin—and were not easily understood.

Hu Bin came from a modest but learned household. He was raised as a man of virtue, taught both Han and foreign philosophies. He held no official post, nor did he chase fame or fortune. Instead, he opened a small school in Hedong, teaching sons of common folk who sought knowledge. He charged tuition based on a family’s means—often taking nothing at all.
He also served as a healer, making herbal medicines and tending to the sick. Hu Bin was known for his kindness, never charging high fees and often accepting only what his patients could afford—enough to care for himself, his daughter, and the small staff of his home.
That daughter—yes, the same mischievous little girl who fell from the pine tree—is Hu Qingyue, or Ah-Qing, as her father called her. She was his only child. After his beloved wife passed away, he never remarried. Ah-Qing became both the cure to his grief and the light of his life.
Because he cherished her so deeply, he gave her everything a father could. Unlike most men of the Han world, Hu Bin taught his daughter to read, to write, to practice medicine, and to study foreign texts—if she showed interest, he never held back.
In those days, under Confucian ideals, girls—even noble ones—were only taught poetry, music, and housekeeping. Common girls didn’t even get that. What Hu Bin did was rare. Strange, even. But only a few knew of it.
Ah-Qing grew up in her father’s shadow—protected by love and guided by wisdom.

Oh? You over there at the corner of the mat—what did you just whisper?
“Wu Ming, what does the girl look like? Tell us!”

Well now, let me paint a picture for you…
Her hair: pitch black with not a single strand of pale color, its tips curling slightly like the feathers of a peacock.
Her face: oval-shaped, with arched brows like a drawn bow and eyes wide, sparkling, and mysterious.
Her lashes: thick and naturally curled.
Her nose: small and delicate.
Her lips: full and red, like ripe berries.
Her skin: smooth, flawless, and pale like white jade.

A budding flower just beginning to bloom. In time, she would surely grow to dazzle all who saw her. But enough of beauty. Let us return to the tale.

One day, as Hu Bin raised a cup of tea with a smile, he asked, “How are your father and mother, boy?”
“They are well, sir,” Guan Yu replied with a modest smile.
“I haven’t seen them in ages… Your father and I trained under the same master when we were young. Later, we went our separate ways.” Hu Bin chuckled at the memory. “If my daughter hadn’t been so naughty, I’d never have known he had a son your age!”

Guan Yu lowered his eyes, smiling faintly. He had been born when his parents were well into their thirties—middle age, by the standards of their time. They had always loved him deeply, perhaps because he had come so late. They never scolded harshly, never forced his hand… and yet, a quiet loneliness still lingered in his heart.
Just then, Ah-Qing walked up and stared at him with intent.
“Guan-ge,” she said, “can you stay here?”
He blinked. “…Stay here?”
“I don’t have any siblings. Will you stay… and be with me?”
Everyone turned to look—Hu Bin froze mid-sip. The maids stopped what they were doing.
Guan Yu hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to—but because no one had ever said something like that to him before.
Ah-Qing’s eyes sparkled. “If you stay, I’ll share my sweets. I’ll nap with you during the day. You can hold my hand when we play in the garden. Then… you won’t be lonely. And neither will I.”
He stared at her for a moment, and then—
“…Alright, Ah-Qing.”
That was the first time he said her name.
He didn’t know then that it would echo in his heart for the rest of his life.

Time passed.
After that visit, Guan Yu did not return home for some time. Perhaps because Hu Bin—teacher, healer, and wise man—saw something in the boy. A rare steadiness, a quiet resolve.
And perhaps, just perhaps, because Ah-Qing pleaded with all her heart for her “Guan-ge” to stay.
When Guan Yu returned home and asked for his parents’ blessing, they did not object. They were glad, in fact, for him to study under a virtuous man like Hu Bin. They sent him off with daily essentials and some pocket money.
So the boy came to live at the Hu household, under a master of both medicine and morality.
Each morning, Guan Yu woke, bathed, dressed, and began his chores—sweeping the courtyard, dusting the classroom, and preparing hot tea for his teacher. Hu Bin always drank tea after breakfast, before teaching the village children.
It was a simple routine. But in its quiet rhythm, something unspoken began to form—something delicate and deep, woven with every passing day.

One such morning, after serving tea, Guan Yu returned to his small room—once a storage space, now his study and resting place.
Sunlight filtered through the windows in golden stripes. He sat down, unrolled a scroll, and began to read. Though the lines were familiar, he read with focus. Hu Bin had not yet begun formal lessons. Some maids said he was busy. Guan Yu wondered if it was a test—to see if he was idle or diligent.
If so, he would not fail.

He turned his attention to the page. Ancient wisdom from the Confucian school filled the old paper.
Thud.
Something small and hard hit him square on the forehead.
He blinked. It was a peach pit.

Then…
Thud. Thud. Thud! More pits flew in—one hit his scroll, staining the page. Guan Yu narrowed his eyes and looked out the window, seeing only fluttering curtains…
But in the corner of his eye, a shadow flitted past. “That’s not very nice” he said calmly, returning to his reading.

Thud. Thud. Thud. THUD.

More peach pits. A whole storm of them! Enough was enough!

He leapt to his feet and gave chase.And there she was, just as he’d guessed—long black hair loose and wild, laughing as she fled without a hint of fear.

Ah-Qing.

And that… was their usual morning of The soon-to-be great general…Chasing the only person he could never outrun.

“Come back here, Ah-Qing!” he shouted. “This isn’t funny! I’m telling your father!”

She giggled—knowing full well her father never scolded her. Not really.

Why did she throw peach pits? Because—like all children—sometimes mischief is just another way of saying: “Look at me.”

Later that day, Guan Yu reported her behavior to Hu Bin.The master was napping on a wooden couch when Guan Yu entered the room and bowed.

“Master, forgive my interruption. I have something to report.”
“Oh?” Hu Bin yawned, stretching. “What is it?”
“Ah-Qing threw peach pits at me this morning.”
He looked surprised, then chuckled. “Is that so? I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll speak to her myself.”Hu Bin stood and went to find his daughter.

From behind a screen, Guan Yu peeked.Instead of scolding, Hu Bin called Ah-Qing to his lap.

“Is it true, what Guan Yu said?” he asked.
“…He told you?” she replied, alarmed.
“Yes. Tell me the truth.”
“…It’s true.”
“And why did you do that, child?”

Ah-Qing thought for a moment.“I wanted to play with him,” she said. “But I didn’t know how to ask. He’s always reading or doing chores. When I greet him, he doesn’t even answer me!”

Guan Yu, watching, nearly laughed. The anger in his heart melted instantly.

Hu Bin sighed. “It’s not wrong to want to make friends. But throwing peach pits—that was wrong.”
“But I didn’t hurt him!”
“Even if you didn’t mean harm, you made him upset. That matters too.”He smiled, tousled her hair gently. “Next time, just ask him nicely.”

He pointed to where Guan Yu stood. “Go. Apologize.”
She walked up, bowed awkwardly, and ran off again—laughter trailing behind her like wind chimes in the breeze.

What a strange family, Guan Yu thought.But he said nothing.

That night, he lay in bed, thoughts drifting.

Why didn’t Master Hu ever hit his child?
And then… a thought:
If we grow up right because we were never punished…
Why shouldn’t she be allowed to grow up right, without ever being punished, too?

He smiled.
Then, at last… closed his eyes.
And thus began the first lesson of his new life.

Chapter Text

From the sweltering brightness of a summer afternoon, the skies shifted suddenly. Clouds gathered, and rain poured without warning. Parents rushed to pull their children indoors, afraid they’d catch cold. Young ladies who had been hanging laundry outside groaned in dismay, snatching at wet garments, brows furrowed in irritation. Only the farmers and gardeners seemed pleased—grateful that heaven had finally showered its blessings upon their fields and crops.
The maids in Hu Bin’s household squealed and dashed about in chaos, while Guan Yu calmly walked down the veranda with a scroll in hand. He had just borrowed it from the master’s library and was on his way back to his room.
The thunder rumbled low at first, then rose into a deafening roar that made the ground tremble. Lightning cracked like blades across the sky. But the young man didn’t so much as flinch.
His sharp, hawk-like eyes glanced out toward the garden pavilion.
There, Ah-Qing sat still.
Unafraid of the wind, unbothered by the rain, untouched by the roar of thunder or the whip of lightning. She watched the storm as though it were nothing out of the ordinary.
‘If she stays out there much longer, she’ll catch a cold… I should call her back inside.’
He took a step forward to fetch her—but then, something astonishing happened…
Ah-Qing rose from her seat and walked out into the rain. Raindrops, countless and heavy, poured onto her small frame. Her clothes soaked through, her hair clung to her face and shoulders.
Half of him was gripped with concern—afraid she might fall ill.
But the other half…The other half stood still.
As if time had stopped.

The girl before him… was beautiful in a way that could not be described.
She showed no fear—not of thunder, not of storm, not of the cold. She walked through the downpour with quiet confidence. Not a trace of the playful mischief she usually displayed.
She stepped beneath the walkway roof at last, soaked from head to toe.

“Why didn’t you run like everyone else?”
“A lady of grace does not scurry. Just like how kings and scholars do not let their jade pendants swing about disgracefully. Nor do monks, nor royal steeds.”
And with that, she marched off—leaving him in silence.

It was a strange statement… but not entirely unfamiliar.
In fact, this saying originated from none other than Visakha, the devout laywoman from over two thousand years before the Buddha’s time. She once taught that there are four types of people who should not run: kings, monks, noblewomen, and ceremonial elephants.

You might wonder: How would a little girl like Ah-Qing—born in Han-era China know anything about Buddhism? Let alone interpret it so naturally into Chinese thought?
Ah… have you forgotten? She and her father are not Han by blood.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That will come later.

For now, she returned indoors, leaving the young man—five years her senior—staring after her beneath the eaves. Raindrops shimmered like pearls. Thunder rolled softly in the distance.

He did not know what he felt.
Only that… something had bloomed.
And he had no name for it.

The next morning, under clearer skies, Ah-Qing watched from her balcony.
Across the courtyard, Guan Yu was training with several older students—young men several years ahead of him. At first, he seemed at a disadvantage. But in a flash, he turned the tide, defeating them with swift and decisive moves.
What did a girl of ten feel as she watched that?
No one could say for sure.
But her wide eyes sparkled, full of wonder and joy.
Back in the world of the grown up, after sparring and studying, Guan Yu returned to his usual duties—massaging the teacher’s shoulders, preparing his tea, and even playing weiqi when asked.
Naturally, this earned him some jealousy.
“What’s so special about that red-faced brat?”
“Yeah! Why does Master Hu like him so much?”
“Just you wait… Next time he slips up, we’ll make him pay.”

Hu Bin heard every word.Though he sat there looking relaxed, pretending not to notice, his ears missed nothing.
He had long known the truth of these so-called “good students.”
Obedient on the outside, calculating on the inside. Sons of wealthy families who had been spoiled and coddled into vanity and arrogance.
Even so, Hu Bin held onto a small hope that they might change. He only prayed that no truly powerful villain would cross their paths and turn them into pawns.
He sighed, then glanced at his newest pupil—the one gently fanning him now.
He remembered how late Guan Yu had begun his studies under him—far later than the others.
But that was intentional. The boy had already learned basic literacy, arithmetic, and Confucian philosophy at home. There was no need to make him sit through lessons he had already mastered.
So Hu Bin had placed him in more advanced subjects—like martial training, which he had shown great promise in just this morning.
Guan Yu was sharp. That much was clear.
Though not without flaws, he was definitely not the same kind of student as the others.
Hu Bin narrowed his eyes, then smiled faintly.
This boy…
He was both brilliant and brave. A balance of pen and sword.
And one day, he would surely become a great man—someone others could depend on.
A man worthy of the love and life of someone very dear to him.
‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘I shall polish this jade—until he is a gem fit for my daughter!’

Chapter Text

“ Mama! Mama!”

The girl, barely five years old, cried out, straining in her father’s arms. He held her tightly as she thrashed and sobbed, calling out to the woman on the other side of the sealed room. Inside, her mother lay on the bed—her breathing shallow, as if death waited at the threshold.

It was as though no one, save for the physician, was permitted to be near her—afraid the illness might leap from her frail form to anyone who dared draw close.

Tears streaked the child’s cheeks. Her father, too, wept as he clutched her. His light brown eyes stared at the door—hoping, praying for a miracle. But none came.

Not this time...Not for the woman he loved.

“I’m sorry, Master Qizhong,” the doctor murmured. “She… she didn’t make it.”

“Mama! Mama! I want to go to Mama!”

“MAMAAAA!!!”

The scream vanished...The child awoke with a start in a wooden bed, drenched in sweat, cheeks wet with tears. The images had been a dream—but also a memory. One that returned, again and again, to wrench her heart apart.

As her breath slowed, a familiar touch settled gently on her arm. She turned her head.Her father sat beside her, eyes filled with concern. He had likely shaken her awake.

“Father…” she whispered. But before she could say more, he pulled her into a tight embrace, sobbing softly into her shoulder.

She cried too, burying her face into his chest, they wept for the woman who had been wife and mother.

The warmth of their home...No longer existed in this world…Gone forever.

“Father… how long has it been since we offered food and medicine to Master Pujing?” Ah-Qing asked softly. “I… I miss Mother.”

Hu Bin kissed her forehead gently, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

“I miss her too, my child,” he whispered.

The grinding of the mortar and pestle echoed through the air, accompanied by the soft rustle of dried herbs and the mixed scent of boiling medicine. These sounds and smells had been with Ah-Qing for as long as she could remember—and now, as always, she played her part.

“Miss, should I pack this batch with the food baskets?” asked a maid.

“Yes, yes. Put them all together. We’ll be giving everything to Master Pujing,” Ah-Qing replied, continuing her task.

But then—her hands slowed.

Memories returned unbidden: her mother’s arms around her, her lullabies, her scent, her voice...A child remembers such things with all their senses.

Tears welled again, slipping down her cheeks unnoticed.
People knew Ah-Qing as bright, mischievous, full of life, no one knew that the thing she wished for most in the world… was to see her mother again.

Or, if she dared ask for more—to have her mother come back from the afterlife, to live with her and Father once more.

“If it’s too much, go rest. I’ll take over.”The calm voice pulled her back to the present, Ah-Qing turned and there stood Guan-ge. She hadn’t even noticed him enter. But she didn’t flinch, didn’t jump. Just wiped her eyes.

“No need, Guan-ge.”

He said nothing...Instead, he gently wiped a tear from her cheek with his hand. Then he softly stroked her head. There was no smile on his lips—but in his eyes, she saw everything.

The tears stopped, her cheeks reddened and flushed.Her heart beat fast as she watched him walk away to help elsewhere.

'Perhaps… Mother, the heavenly spirit, sent Guan-ge to watch over me.'

At dawn, when the sky was still pale with gold, a boat rocked gently along the river—carrying Hu Bin, his daughter, their new pupil, and a handful of servants toward the far bank.

Guan Yu sat quietly among the retainers , while Hu Bin and Ah-Qing sat within the covered shelter of the boat.

As the boat glided over the waters, Guan Yu stared at the shoreline. Familiar trees. Familiar bends.

And then, a realization—This monastery… it’s just beyond the riverside behind his family home.

How had he never known? What would he find there?

“We’re almost there, young master,” one of the servants said, patting his shoulder.

Guan Yu picked up the small bundle at his side and waited as the boat approached land. They disembarked, climbing the stone steps toward the humble monastery.The air here was still and cool. Sunlight filtered through high trees, and the breeze carried the scent of wet leaves. Shadows offered calm.

Hu Bin stepped up to the monastery door and knocked. “Master Pujing? Pardon our intrusion!”

The wooden door creaked open, revealing a figure dressed in unfamiliar garb. Even from afar, Guan Yu could tell—the man had a shaven head and wore plain robes over a long tunic.

“Is that him?” he whispered to a nearby maid.

“Yes, that is Master Pujing.”

“But… why does he have no hair? And those clothes…?”

“That’s the custom of the Fojiao, sir,” answered a Yue servant. “Those who ordain in the Buddhist path shave their heads and wear robes. They renounce the world, seeking quiet in places like this.”

Guan Yu frowned. Shave their heads? Isn’t that against the Way of the Han? Hair is a gift from one’s parents… to cut it is unfilial, is it not?

He said nothing out loud. He felt no contempt—only curiosity...And a growing list of questions.

Inside the monastery, there was little , just a few wooden boxes for belongings, a corner for bedding, and an unusual sight: A small platform, draped in cloth. Empty. Even Master Pujing sat below it, not upon it.

It was not a throne of kings.

But the seat of the Awakened One.

A place not occupied by any man—but honored in the heart of those who glimpse truth.

One day, Guan Yu would understand but not today, not soon...But far into the future… in ways no one could yet know.

“That,” said Ah-Qing simply, “is our Teacher.”

And now we all know, dear listeners: The Hu family followed something… different.

“I’ve read a little about your religion,” said Guan Yu thoughtfully. “I heard that during the reign of Emperor Ming of Han, a temple was built in Luoyang—the White Horse Temple(Baimasi),nearly a hundred years ago…”

“Really?!” Ah-Qing’s eyes lit up, turning toward him. “But… how do you know that, Guan-ge?”

“My father has many old books. I read them sometimes when I’m free,” he said. “They say two monks came from the Western lands, carrying scriptures and a statue of the Buddha on the back of a white horse. The temple was named in honor of it.”

“A white horse…” Ah-Qing whispered. “I’d love to see it someday…”

Their quiet conversation didn’t go unnoticed.Master Pujing—whose name meant “Purity Universal”—watched the two children in silence.

Hu Bin smiled, amused,but Master Pujing’s eyes glimmered with something deeper.

...He saw not just children—but possibilities.

“Hu Bin… who is that large, red-faced boy?” the master asked.

“Ah, that’s my new pupil, sir. His name is Guan Yu.”

Master Pujing nodded slowly. A faint smile touched his lips. But in his gaze was something else—

Compassion,mystery ,and… A vision.

Flame.

Blood.

Tears.

Death.

And within the boy… a light, still sleeping.

Like a spark waiting for fire.

Like a seed, waiting for rain.

“Guan Yu…” he murmured, then a thought he never spoke out loud.

'The Dharma of the Tathāgata will carry you farther than you ever imagined...Though you do not yet know it—your journey… has already begun.'

A monk from Luoyang: “Ah… I think I see where this is going, Black Cat.”

A Taoist on his way to Turpan: “Chills, little cat. I get it now…”

Ah, ah! Don’t leap ahead, dear traveler! The story is far from over, there are still so many verses in this tale…

And I, Wu Ming, have only just begun.

Chapter Text

“Hey! That red-faced servant boy is back again!”Mocking voices rang out as Guan Yu silently carried buckets of water toward the clay vats near the main hall.
“You’re only good for grunt work, y’know! That’s all you’ll ever be!” Laughter erupted behind him.

Among the pack of bullies was Lü Xiong , the spoiled son of Hedong’s magistrate—a man infamous for squeezing every last coin from his townsfolk. Naturally, his son turned out no better. Though he had become one of Master Hu Bin’s pupils, whatever refinement he displayed was merely a mask , thinly veiling arrogance and cruelty.

“Here, Ah-Yu, want a hand with that?” Lü Xiong approached with a grin that oozed false kindness. His hand touched Guan Yu’s shoulder lightly.
“Thank you, brother Lü—”

CRASH!!!

Water splashed across the stone floor as one of Guan Yu’s wooden buckets was yanked from his grip and sent tumbling. Laughter echoed once again.
But the younger boy didn’t yell. He didn’t fight back.He simply knelt down, picked up the bucket, and turned silently to return to the well.

Not a word.
Not a glare.
Not even a clenched fist.
A true gentleman. A true son of virtue.

…At least, for now.

A nearby drummer : “I can already tell Lü Xiong’s gonna regret this someday. Just wait for it!”

Lü Xiong laughed loudest of all. “You may be the teacher’s pet, but in the end, you’ll be nothing more than a house servant! You’ll spend your whole life fetching water for your precious Master! How pathetic!”

'Being the Master’s servant is better than being your father’s son' Guan Yu thought, but he said nothing, focusing instead on his task in order to tuning them out.
Centering himself with discipline and stillness.

And then—
“Ow! What the hell? Who threw that rock at me?!” Lü Xiong clutched his head. There was no blood, but a visible bump began to form.
Confused and angry, the group looked around.

“I did!” came a sharp voice.

All heads turned.
There she was—Ah-Qing.

Even Guan Yu froze. 'First she’s a mischievous troublemaker. Then she strolls through rainstorms reciting Buddhist aphorisms. Then she lectures me on her family’s spiritual lineage… and now this? What is this girl??'

“Ah-Qing! Apologize to Lü-ge right now!”
“If this gets to the magistrate, your father’s finished!”
“Barbarian blood! Even their daughters are rude!”

The threats flew thick and fast—but she stood her ground. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed like a judge about to deliver a verdict.
“I’m eighteen years old, girl! I’m ten years older than you! Show some respect!” Lü Xiong stepped forward, finger pointed, face flushed with anger. Ah-Qing snorted, unimpressed.“Yes. Older in years. But not in wisdom. Not in virtue.”
She smiled, a little too sweetly. “My father says: age means nothing if you have no integrity or insight. A child who is wise is already an adult. And a man like you…”

“…is still just a brat.”

Even Guan Yu winced.

That one hit deep.
Lü Xiong lost it. He raised his fist—but froze when he saw her reach to her side.

From beneath her sash, she drew a small dagger—just large enough to be taken seriously. “My father taught me self-defense too, you know,” she said coldly. “So if any of you have the guts to attack a little girl, go ahead. I’d love to hear how you plan to explain this to your precious magistrate father.”

Silence.
Tense, simmering silence.
Lü Xiong, shamed and furious, lunged—arm raised again.Only to have it seized mid-air...
By Guan Yu.

The very boy they’d mocked for being silent and dumb, his hand clamped down on Lü Xiong’s wrist, tightening slowly, intensed the pain.

And when Lü Xiong looked up into those sharp, hawk-like eyes… he saw no anger.
...Just chilling clarity.
“Brother Lü,” Guan Yu said quietly, his voice cold as winter wind,“…I don’t mind if you pick on me.”

“But if you lay hands on her…I may not hold back.”

That was enough.The bullies backed away and curses like dead leaves on the wind.

And just like that… it was over.

The two children stood alone again.
Not fear.
Not fury.
Just something warm.
Something gentle.
Lingering in their hearts.

“…You’re amazing, Guan-ge,” Ah-Qing whispered.
“I just… don’t like seeing women or children being hurt,” he replied softly.

A little girl, sharp of tongue and brave of heart.
A quiet boy, firm as stone, gentle as spring.
In a world that would one day burn with war and chaos…
These were the sparks that would kindle legends.
These were the seeds of greatness.

And all we can do is wait.
And hope.
That they grow strong together.
That they learn together.
That they become what fate has chosen them to be.

And if the Lady Hu were watching from above, she’d probably whisper:“Only I get to tease Guan-ge. No one else!”

A Yue merchant nearby: “Haha! Agreed! Agreed!”
A wandering warrior: “Only your future wife can mess with you like that! Wooo!!”

Oh, calm yourselves, dear travelers...Love will come in time.

But if your hearts are fluttering already…Then I, Wu Ming, have done my job well.

Miaow~

Chapter Text

Time flowed onward—days became months, months became years.
China had now entered the third year of the Guanghe era (光和三年), or the year 180 CE, toward the end of Emperor Ling’s reign. Within the empire, corruption and cruelty still festered. The Ten Eunuchs dominated the imperial court, clouding the emperor’s ears and eyes with manipulation and deceit. Those loyal to the Han were framed, exiled, or slaughtered. Villains thrived; the virtuous fled or fell. And karma, it seemed, had forgotten its path.
In this upside-down world, one teetering toward chaos, how long could such an age endure?
But for now…Let us return to Master Hu Bin’s home, to the two whose tale this truly is.

“Guan Yu, don’t hesitate—strike her with the wooden sword” Master Hu Bin, now visibly older than in the story’s beginning, sipped tea calmly as he issued that shocking order. The young man before him—his beloved disciple (and, dare we say, future son-in-law?) was momentarily frozen.
“But Master… she’s your daughter. And… she’s a girl…”
Hu Bin nearly choked on his tea from laughter, but managed to suppress it. With serious tone and expression, he repeated:
“In times of war and unrest, there is no such thing as man or woman. Fight her, or go home!”
The young man of the Guan clan closed his eyes and took a deep breath…Then he looked at his “opponent.”
The girl who threw a peach seed at him four years ago…Was now a young woman blooming beyond her years.
Though only thirteen, she looked fifteen or sixteen , taller than the rest of Han girls he had seen , her once-rounded face now maturing into soft ovals and subtle lines. Her large, expressive eyes held both vitality and mystery, drawing his gaze without warning.
He didn’t know if she’d grown because of time…or because he had just now noticed.
Dancer girl: “Oh, you’re saying a lot about her beauty, dear Black Cat of Xian Luo~”

“Guan-ge! Are you gonna strike or not?” her teasing voice snapped him back. No longer the high-pitched child’s voice ,it was now clear and bright like a young woman’s, full of mischief and challenge.
The boy—no, the young man from the Guan family bit his lip, raised his wooden sword, and rushed forward.
She moved first , then a blur of movement.

CRACK.

The sharp thwack of wood-on-wood rang through the air. He hadn’t even realized he’d been blocked ,completely and cleanly.
She didn’t want him to hold back, not at all.

“You’re losing already, Guan-ge!”
“I’m still standing. Don’t decide too soon.”
Her lips curled into a delighted smile. “Then I’ll wait for your fall—and I’ll enjoy the view.”
He didn’t answer right away, but his sword moved.
If he was going to fall…He would fall in a way she’d never forget.

If he was a bamboo shoot—newly grown, standing firm against gales and chaos—
Then she…She was a desert flower, blooming far from her ancestral land, thriving even where she did not belong.

Hu Bin watched them—disciple and daughter—with a father’s pride and a master’s joy.
He had shaped this boy.
He had raised this girl.
And now, they stood as equals, the perfect harmony of yin and yang.
‘Soon, he thought. Very soon…’

The morning match ended without victory or defeat. Their skills were nearly matched now.
Guan Yu continued with his duties—cleaning, carrying, helping. The same silent disciple he had always been, now stronger in both body and resolve. The other students teased him from time to time, but compared to the day Lü Xiong knocked over his water buckets, it was nothing.
Ah-Qing, meanwhile, buried herself in the apothecary room.
Grinding herbs like embroidery.
Experimenting with mixtures (Don’t worry—she’s not reckless enough to experiment them on people. Right? Right?? Right, please believe my word!).
Sometimes she’d retreat to her room, chant prayers, then… lay on her back and stare at the ceiling in boredom.

One was a bamboo shoot, growing tall.
One was a desert flower, curious about the world.
Both rooted in the same soil.
Both unaware… that spring was near.
A spring people call…
Love.

The next day, Ah-Qing, ever the troublemaker, prepared for a trip into the bamboo forest. She wanted to gather herbs for her own experiments. She had already asked Guan Yu to join her—for safety, of course. (Even though she felt perfectly capable, her father insisted.)
She packed supplies and dressed appropriately.
She promised herself not to climb trees this time…(Like when she climbed that pine at age nine and nearly broke her neck.)
But if not for that incident…She never would’ve met Guan-ge.

She planned to collect every useful root, flower, fruit, and leaf she could find.
To prove to herself—and the world—that nothing in nature was useless.
“Remember, Ah-Qing,” her father always said, “Everything in this world has its purpose. Even what others see as worthless.”
She stepped outside the house, cheerful. None of her father’s male students paid her much attention, she thought. She was just “Master’s daughter” or “that annoying girl.”
She thought of what to say to Guan Yu when they met.
Maybe tease him?
Maybe challenge him?
She was smiling to herself—when suddenly, someone she didn’t want to see, grabbed her wrist.
“Ah-Qing… you’ve grown,”
It was Lü Xiong…Now twenty-two, still Master Hu’s student.His voice was friendly, but his eyes…His eyes were not.
“Let me go,” she said evenly, trying to stay calm.
But men like him—who wore false masks of virtue, would never ever listen.
“Why? Got someone you like already? That red-faced servant boy?” He chuckled. “I still remember when you were nine. You stuck out your tongue and shouted: ‘Only I get to tease Guan-ge!’ That was adorable.”
His gang laughed.
“That kid’s just a servant!”
“He’s a noble’s son—but that family’s finished!”
“Why not pick Brother Lü, miss? He’s the magistrate’s son~”
Ah-Qing’s face darkened.She yanked her arm, struggling.“Let me go! I SAID LET ME GO!”

But they… Those little monsters in human skin, surrounded her. In broad daylight , in the area of her father’s school.
They had dared to speak of Master Hu behind his back. They had threatened him once—saying that if Ah-Qing disrespected Lü Xiong, her father would face punishment from the magistrate.
I hate this.
I hate it so much, dear reader.
If I were there, I’d slash them to pieces with my claws!
But just then— The one person she prayed to appear…

He came.

“Stop.”
“Guan-ge!” she cried. Relief washed over her, she ran to him like sunlight after a storm.
The bullies fell silent. Guan Yu didn’t need fists…Didn’t need to shout.
His presence was winter’s bite, that could made them chilled into their backbone.
Lü Xiong remembered.
The boy who had once grabbed his wrist…The boy whose eyes could become those of a hawk or a wolf—when someone threatened what he held dear.
Lü Xiong let go, het he shoved her aside.

Because he’s angry? Ashamed ? Or just jealous that someone he rebuked as a “Fool” would probably caught the attention of the Girl?
He spat, “Fine. I’ll leave. But don’t think I’ll give up. Persistence conquers all.”
They left.
Ah-Qing stood still, her body remembering what her heart wanted to forget.
Until…A hand patted her head.
Just like back then—When she cried for her mother, when she ground medicine to offer Master Pujing, four years ago.
“Let’s go, Ah-Qing,” said the boy she trusted more than anyone.

O flower of the western desert…
O bamboo shoot tall and strong…
Walk side by side.
Don’t let go.
Don’t abandon one another, please.

For this world is crueler than any storm.
But if you grow through it—together.
Nothing will tear you apart.

Not by fate.
Not by war.
Not even by death.

Grow, O Flower, without fear.
Stand, O Bamboo, without breaking.

And if this life won’t let you be together…
May your hearts still remember.
In every lifetime, through every world…
You will always know each other’s call.

Chapter Text

Yawn ~ I’m getting sleepy. Hey there, everyone! Are you sleepy or not?!
Merchants, monks, officials, townsfolk, etc.: “Not~ sleepy~!”
Court official: “I’m waiting for the story, little cat!”
Lady from Great Da Yuan (Sogdiana): “Ah-Qing’s story isn’t over yet! Tell us the rest, oh Black Cat of Xian Luo!”
Court official’s wife: “Guan-ge’s leaving Master Hu’s manor, right? When will they confess their love already, huh?!”

Very well then… Prepare yourselves, for from this point on, the story shall lead you far from Master Hu Bin’s residence and into a world unknown.
Know this—this journey is not merely a change in scenery, but a transformation of the heart.
A broadening of the eyes… of those born and raised within the Han lands.

That morning was especially bright. The sun had not yet grown harsh, and Master Hu Bin’s household was in far greater commotion than usual. Servants bustled to and fro, hauling bundles and crates onto wagons, tying things down for the arduous journey ahead. “Oi! Put up a sign at the front gate that says ‘Out on a trading trip – Teaching suspended until return!’ That way the students won’t wander in by mistake!” Master Hu barked, waving an arm in the direction of the gate.
Nearby, young Guan Yu was gently patting the heads of the two mules that would be pulling the covered cart—one that would carry both master and daughter across a yet unknown land.
The mules, seemingly fond of the boy, snorted softly and squinted their eyes in delight at his touch.
“Dear mules… I hope the hay and water I gave you will be enough to last the first day,” he murmured with an unthinking smile.
Master Hu, still speaking with the house servants, caught sight of his beloved disciple calmly petting the mules and smiled quietly to himself. “Good… You have compassion even for these humble beasts who will trek through the sands with you.”
“That’s far better than certain folks who don’t even see their travel companions as human…”
Master and the disciple exchanged smiles…Just then, the old scholar seemed to notice something.
“Hmm… Where is Ah-Qing? What’s taking her so long?”
“Shall I go fetch her, Master?”
Inside the manor, a voice was raised in exasperation.“Young miss, please! I told you—you can change clothes once we reach the first rest stop!”
And then, Ah-Qing appeared. All eyes turned toward her , even Guan Yu, who was adjusting the straps on a water jug, froze in place, stunned.
Gone was the familiar Han-style garb.In its place… a dazzling ensemble from beyond the frontier—like a princess from the Silk Road herself.
A flowing amber coat embroidered with phoenixes and winding vines shimmered in the morning light. Its sleeves were long and narrow, trimmed with dark indigo patterns. A glimpse of golden-stitched Persian brocade peeked from beneath her collar.
She wore a pleated Sogdian skirt with galloping horses embroidered in red, atop tight-fitting trousers. A sheer sash of greenish-silver wrapped her waist, its trailing ends brushing her knees. Tiny silver bells jingled softly at her hip.
Upon her head was a gauzy veil beaded with glass, fluttering in the breeze. Silver teardrop earrings glinted at her ears. Anklets with delicate charms rang faintly as she stepped forward.
Guan Yu’s jaw slackened, his face redder than a ripe jujube. His lips parted, but no words came out.
Master Hu chuckled and whispered to himself, “My daughter’s probably just made that boy’s heart skip a beat…”
“Father! Let’s go already!” the thirteen-year-old girl called cheerfully, hurrying to the cart.
At last, with master and daughter seated in the covered cart and all preparations complete, the caravan rolled out of the Hu residence.

Ah, you two young ones, raised in the heart of Han…
Ahead lies a road long forgotten by poets and historians alike.
But do not grieve.
I, the Black Cat, shall spin this journey into a tale for all to see clearly.

The old wooden wheels began to turn, slowly at first, then faster. The mules’ hooves clattered against the cobbled road beneath the canopy…
A girl seated beside her father on a cushioned bench.
A boy guiding the mules as their driver.
They sat only a short distance apart.
And yet, their hearts were worlds away.
They were divided by age, by status.
She was the “noble young lady,” spirited and fearless.
He was the “servant boy from House Guan,” mocked as stupid and lowly.
But unseen by all… was the quiet loneliness in each of their eyes, softening as they sat near each other.
Just this once… may Heaven not turn its back on them.

First Day’s Resting Point: Luoyang
Clop clop! Clop clop!
Our young hero and heroine are about to enter Luoyang, the most opulent and historically renowned city of ancient China!
Have any of you ever been to Luoyang?
Dancer: “It’s my hometown!”
Monk: “I once stayed there, coming from Kizil. It’s quite a holy place, you know.”
Official: “I can’t believe it’s a city that’s existed since the Three Kingdoms!”

That’s right! Luoyang predates even that.Located in China’s Central Plains, it has endured the test of time through many dynasties.
Before Eastern Han, it was the capital of the Zhou.In the future, it will rise again under the mighty Tang.
As you follow our characters through the gates, you’ll see:
Towering city walls worn by centuries, bustling markets filled with shouting vendors and sweet-smelling pastries, incense, and exotic oils. Neat avenues, small rivers and canals, a balance of lively color and lingering shadows…
And in the far-off palace at the city’s heart—a heavy aura of power and shifting politics.
“Alright everyone,” Master Hu declared, “Take ten minutes to run errands or browse. After that, I’ll be taking Ah-Qing to the White Horse Temple and find lodging for the night.” His party nodded, scattering into the marketplace.
The voices of street vendors hawking steamed buns and fortune charms echoed nearby. Some servants eyed a shop selling gemstone bangles. Guan Yu, however, stayed close to the cart, wiping sweat from the mules’ brows.
“Don’t buy anything weird that smokes!” a teenage maid called to her friend. “Last time, I almost turned into a pig for three days thanks to some ‘magic candy’ from a witchy-looking hag!”
Master Hu turned to his daughter and asked with a smile, “Ready, Ah-Qing?”
“Yes, Father…” she replied, adjusting her sash and gazing toward the road ahead—where the White Horse Temple rose amidst a grove of young trees.
It was only meant to be a quick visit—for a place to stay, and to pay respects.

But for someone among them… their heart had already begun to travel far beyond Luoyang.
Up above the earth, beyond the realm of mortals…
Someone watches.
From a place unknown—
Beyond time,
Beyond space,
Beyond mortal comprehension.
As though this intricate stage play called “life” were being watched with bated breath.

Wondering… What paths will these children take? Even if such eyes already know—
That fate has long been sealed…By karma.

Chapter Text

The wind whistled through the hanging silver chimes of the temple, its sound delicate and strange. The faint scent of incense, drifting from deep within the grounds, caught the attention of a girl dressed in fine silk as she walked past the stone gate.
Behind her followed a red-faced young man, still flustered by the long journey, and her father who walked calmly at the front.
Two carved stone horses stood guard at the temple entrance—frozen in time, and yet…Guan Yu could not shake the feeling that they were watching him.
Not with sight, but with something deeper—as though their gaze pierced through his soul.
He thought he heard a whisper, unintelligible but insistent.
“Am I imagining it…?”
“But… those eyes really feel like they’re following us…”
Wandering Monk (off-screen): “Oh… this monk believes there’s something more to it…”

The White Horse Temple was an architectural gem of Han design—its rooftops tiled with deep-sea blue ceramic, sloping like the layered scales of a dragon. Carved mythical beasts adorned the ridgelines: phoenixes, qilin, and dragon-turtles that were said to uphold the balance of heaven and earth.
Twin stone columns bore swirling cloud motifs, while the walls of crimson lacquer had softened and cracked with age.
The air inside smelled of sandalwood and sacred herbs.
Red lanterns hung in rows above wooden prayer plaques, each inscribed with wishes in old Han script by pilgrims and travelers long past.
Within the temple’s main hall—a quiet, solemn space—they found a large round stone resting at its center.
It was carved with the image of a lotus in full bloom, its petals radiating outward in symmetrical patterns. To some, it might resemble the Sun—the thousand-rayed king of the sky.
To others, it looked like a Wheel—not one for carts or chariots, but for Dharma…A wheel turned long ago by a sage from the Western lands, and now brought to rest here…
“What is… that?” Guan Yu murmured, eyes narrowing slightly in awe.There was something in the sight that made his heart stir—something he couldn’t explain.
Ah-Qing stood beside him, equally transfixed. This was her first time seeing the temple in person.
She remembered her older brother-figure once describing this place to her from memory, four years ago at the riverside monastery.
“I have a stone carving like that at home,” she said softly. “But smaller. Light enough to carry.”
“What does it mean?” His voice was serious now. Clearer than before.
She smiled, radiant and serene, as she helped her father light incense and arrange flower offerings.“The blooming lotus… it represents Shijiamouni—the Buddha, our sage and teacher.Ever radiant, ever awakened, just like the sun itself.”
“Why not make his image as a human, then?” Guan Yu asked.
Ah-Qing shrugged playfully, her tone dreamy.“I don’t know… but maybe someday, I hope someone will!” She giggled as she spoke—as if a girl dreaming of art, not gods.
Little did she know that far in the future—beyond Han China, beyond Mauryan India—artists and disciples would shape the image of the Enlightened One into the human form we now know.
Whether by influence of artisans from the lands once called Da Yuan or Yavana, or from southern forests of the Indian subcontinent… their hands and hearts would give birth to the image of the lion-like sage.
Court Official :“Eh? I always thought the Buddha’s form appeared only after he passed…”
His wife (bows):“Either way, I still revere him. Form or not, he is who he is.”
Yes, madam. You’re right.
The Buddha is the Buddha—whether carved in stone, painted on silk, or unseen entirely.
The one who knows, who awakens, who shines.
He is the ferryman across the river of suffering. A light in the darkness for those too fragile to endure this cruel world alone.

As Hu Bin sat cross-legged, lost in tranquil meditation, and Ah-Qing knelt with palms together, murmuring mantras in a tongue not of Han origin…
Guan Yu sat nearby, his gaze still locked on the stone lotus.
Then—a voice drifted through the hall, not spoken aloud, but felt in the air.

“O scions of Bodhi… you shall awaken from illusion soon.”
“But first, you must endure much joy and sorrow within this illusory world… before you taste the nectar of the path to come.”

Only the two youths heard it. They turned to each other, startled and confused.
“Guan-ge… did you hear that?” Ah-Qing whispered.
He didn’t reply—but gave a firm nod.
They held each other’s gaze for a moment, then turned back toward the stone as if searching for an answer.

Silence.
Only the wind, the distant chimes and a peace deeper than sleep.
What… was that voice?
They both wondered—but neither dared ask Hu Bin, who remained blissfully still in his meditation.
All they could do was ponder…
While the lotus sat silently…
As if listening to their hearts as well.

That Night, at the Inn
The sun, lord of the daytime sky, had finally yielded. The moon now drove her silver chariot across the heavens, glowing bright above the sleeping world.
In their inn room, father and daughter lay in rest.
As Ah-Qing was now a growing girl, Hu Bin graciously gave her the soft bed and chose the wooden couch for himself.
Such is a father’s love—pure, selfless… Just recounting it reminds me of my own father.
Ah-Qing had only just drifted into slumber when something strange stirred within her. Her cheeks flushed as if with a low fever.
Her lips curled in a smile, exposing her pearl-like teeth…She murmured in sleep, giggling softly—
“No… don’t, brother… don’t…”
The words were playful… teasing… maybe a little wanting.For a brief moment, her hand reached out to the air, then slipped under her silken robe.

Lady from Da Yuan:“Eeeek!!”
Court musician:“I knew it…”
Wandering warrior:“Hmph…”

Fingertips brushed across the curves of her growing form.
She was no longer a child…Her body had bloomed in line with her age.
Her face turned slightly, her brows, like drawn bows, furrowed, her lips murmured softly—not to herself, but as if in dialogue with someone she longed for.
“Guan-ge… mmm… you smell so nice…”
“Don’t hurt me, please…”
“You’ll love only me, right…?”
And she was not alone in this burning spell cast by Kama’s arrow.

Elsewhere, another was restless in sleep. Guan Yu—no longer a child either—tossed and turned under his blanket.
His brows were knitted, his hand clenched the fabric tight.
He muttered in dreams…But the words he spoke revealed a heart bound to virtue.
“Ah-Qing… don’t… don’t do this.”
“I swear… if we marry… I will never abandon you.”
“Let us wait. Let it be proper.”
His breathing grew heavier, his body reacting as a young man’s body would—mBut his mind fought to stay honorable.
He longed for her… but would not violate her…Not even in dreams.

He knew, as did she:
This love between them… had changed.
No longer was she the little girl he used to know.
No longer did she see him as merely her older brother in name.

Morning Light
As the moon vanished and the golden chariot of dawn climbed the sky—
both awoke in their separate rooms.
Ah-Qing, flower of the frontier, found her garments slightly… loosened. She did not care to speak of what else had happened.
Guan Yu, the bamboo that stood against the cold winds, found only sweat on his brow…And thoughts he dared not say aloud.

I daresay, they have now tasted the bitter-sweet wine called love.
How will this story end? Will they become one in this life?
Or merely remember each other in some future realm, far from this time and world?

Well then… You’ll just have to keep listening to this black cat spin her tale.
Let’s see whose heart beats faster— Theirs, or yours!

Lady from Da Yuan: “I just know… Ah-Qing won’t choose the wrong person. I believe in her…”

Chapter Text

The Wandering Warrior: “Oi! Don’t you think we’ve been missing some good action scenes lately?”
Are you asking for something like fun and games?
The Wandering Warrior: “No, you idiot! I meant fighting scenes! You know—martial arts, swordplay, inner energy clashes and all that!”
Nyahh~ Don’t yell at me, meow! I was just kidding~
Now, when it comes to battles, sure, you’ll get more of those when the two kids grow up… but still, are you really interested in the skirmishes along the journey westward?
Everyone: “Tell us! Now! No holding back! No skipping ahead!”
A Wandering Monk: “Everyone… Please be calm.”
Alright, alright! I won’t hold back then. Grab your mats tight—or each other’s hands if you must!
(At this moment, the Prefect and his wife tighten their grip on each other. The dancer and the girl from Dayuan sit closer, eyes meeting with something more than friendship…)
Because from here on out, things are about to get intense, heated, and more dangerous than ever.

Second Destination Reached: Chang’an, the Old Capital
Two days after leaving Luoyang, the caravan led by Master Hu and his daughter continued onward. The mules pulling their carriage remained strong and uninjured, as did the pack animals. The travelers themselves were all in good health, though what lay ahead was unknown.
As the silhouette of Luoyang faded behind them, the breeze seemed to whisper a farewell. The great city bid them goodbye with a silent hope… that they might return one day. Or even rescue it from the dark games of palace politics—schemes so vile even the Buddha’s nascent teachings could not yet pull lost souls from their abyss of greed and desire.
The strange voice at White Horse Temple still echoed in the minds of both Qingyue and Guan Yu—just like that haunting dream of passion. Yet neither uttered a single word of it. Fear and propriety bound their thoughts and lips alike.
Guan Yu remained at the reins, guiding the mules, while Ah-Qing sat beside her father, gazing out the small window. Her eyes—large, brown, and sparkling like golden ore hidden beneath the earth—were filled with a distant, unreadable thought.
What awaited her? A place? Or perhaps… a locked emotion ready to be set free?

Ting! Ting! We’re here! Chang’an—the ancient capital of Han! Though the imperial court had long moved to Luoyang, the city remained a hub for trade and intellectuals alike.
Merchant: “Ah, Chang’an! My homeland!”
Wandering Warrior: “Wait, I thought that was from Tang Dynasty! It’s that old?!”
As their carriage rolled into the city, Guan Yu noticed the stone walls, time-worn but proud. Roads were laid in neat rows, and markets stretched into long lanes. The air was filled with a blend of western spices, the smokiness of clay stove fires, and the pungent scent of fermented beans. Everyone’s noses twitched in delight—surely this was a good place to stop.
Master Hu poked his head out and shouted “We’ll rest here! Buy food, supplies, trade what you must! You’ve got one shichen! Everyone meet me at the west gate when time’s up!”
The moment the wagons halted, everyone jumped off with excitement. Male servants rushed to steaming baozi stalls, while the maids fluttered toward jewelry stands, perfume shops, and cloth vendors. Some even sought fortune-tellers for romantic guidance.
Ah-Qing stepped off the carriage behind her father, but her gaze never wandered. Fine silk, sparkling baubles, music, the cacophony of bargaining, and tantalizing smells could not distract her. Every step she took… felt like she was walking in the shadow of someone not physically there.
The shadow of a boy she could no longer see as just “a brother.”
Guan Yu did not follow the Master and Ah-Qing. Instead, he wandered in silence until—bam!—he collided with someone!
“S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to—” the young man stammered, bending to pick up his straw sandals and hat. Guan Yu reached to help. “It’s alright. Here, let me—”
“Ah!”
Their eyes met.
Guan Yu’s sharp gaze locked with the soft but luminous eyes of the stranger…This boy had jade-pale skin, fine features, shapely brows, lips almost too plush for a man, and long earlobes. Slightly shorter, yes—but something about him radiated calm strength and gentle charisma.
“I’m Liu Xuande. You?”
“I… I’m Guan Yu. I’m eighteen. Haven’t received my courtesy name yet.”
“Ah! So you’re a year younger than me!” Xuande beamed, as if reuniting with an old friend. Guan Yu offered a quiet smile and returned his straw hat.
Their hands brushed—just a second, but Guan Yu’s heart thundered.
He didn’t understand why…But he felt safe. Like a child sheltered by a kind, gentle adult.
“Xuande! What are you doing? Come, dear!” a woman’s voice called from afar. Guan Yu didn’t see her, but he could guess—his mother. Xuande called back, “Coming, Mother!”
He ran off, basket in hand—but not before turning back one last time to flash Guan Yu a wide, cheeky grin that reached his ears.
That smile… those eyes… and that touch of warmth… Guan Yu will remember it forever.
And silently… he wished to meet that “elder brother,” just one year his senior, again—if Heaven allowed.
“Young master! Trouble!!” A servant dashed toward him, panting. Guan Yu snapped out of his trance. “What is it?!”
“Young Miss,sir —someone carried her off! A man—he had a yellow cloth tied on his head!”
Guan Yu needed no more. He bolted like a storm, the wind cutting past him. Miraculously, the crowd parted before him.

“Look at that red-faced boy—he runs like a celestial!”
“So graceful… so fierce!”
Back at the wagons, Master Hu was pale and shaken, the servants weeping in chaos.
But Guan Yu had no time to stop. His mind screamed one thing : Save Ah-Qing!
Faster than he had run to catch her falling from the pine tree…His eyes burned with purpose. No weapon in hand, but his heart was the blade.

He spotted the man—yellow cloth on his topknot—carrying a girl in exotic northern garb. Her anklet bells jingled, mingling with her sobs.
Ah-Qing, confused and frightened, had been dragged mid-purchase of herbs and stones. She screamed for her father, her maids… and for someone else.

No one helped.
He lifted her on his shoulder and ran.

Almost reaching them, Guan Yu heard: “Hey! You fraud! Put the girl down!!”
He looked past the kidnapper and saw—a boy! Dark-skinned, sun-kissed, no more than twelve or thirteen. Fierce, defiant, hands on hips like a baby tiger.
“You brat!” The man waved a knife. “This ain’t your business!”
“You’re with the rebels of Zhang Jue, aren’t you?! Spreading fake miracles to gather troops—despicable! Even a kid like me knows that!”

“SHUT UP!” He lunged.
But the boy dodged nimbly—sending the man crashing into a stall, and Ah-Qing flailing— Fortunately, she landed on a pile of silk bolts.
“AH-QING!”
That voice—his voice!
She looked up and burst into tears.
Before Guan Yu could even think, she rushed into his arms, sobbing into his chest.
He stood frozen.His heart thundered.
That embrace was so different from four years ago.
Back then, it was an innocent hug from a lonely girl needing a big brother. But now… it held sweetness. Warmth. A hint of something that made his breath falter.
“LOOK OUT!” the boy yelled.
The man charged again. Guan Yu pulled Qingyue aside just in time. The thug swung his dagger—Guan Yu dodged, elbowed his chest.

Thud!
The man staggered back, stunned by the strength.
“You’ve got a good punch, boy,” the man growled. “Wanna go again?”
“No.”Guan Yu tightened his grip on the young girl. “I’m going back—and you’ll be arrested after I and the Master tell the officials.”
He turned to leave. But the thug grabbed a spear—
CRASH!!
An earthen jar shattered against his head! The boy had thrown it with inhuman strength.
“Sorry, Auntie! I’ll pay for that with this red pouch!” he shouted, tossing it to the merchant, who grinned and nodded.The crowd erupted in cheers as officials finally arrived to arrest the man.

As Guan Yu and Ah-Qing turned to leave, the boy ran after them.“Ge-ge! Jie-jie! Wait!!”
He flashed a grin—revealing four sharp little fangs like a cat’s… or a cub’s. “Your martial skills are awesome! Ah-Fei truly admires you!”
With that, he bowed… and ran off again, chased by someone yelling: “Ah-Fei! Skipping chores again?! Get back here, you rascal!”
Guan Yu chuckled.“That kid… is something else.”
He didn’t know it yet…But one day, he would call that boy—
“My Third Brother.”

Oh, the Three Heroes of Eastern Han…
Fated to meet not on pages of history,
But by sheer chance and divine whim.
Oh, young hearts full of hope,
Drawn together for a fleeting moment…
Only to part again.

Such is the world.
Where every meeting must have its parting.
And every love that begins in sweetness…
May end in bitterness too deep to swallow.

Chapter Text

“These are troubled times, you know. Bandits and thieves everywhere.”
“That’s right. Sir and his daughter ought to keep their group tightly together.”
“The farther you travel, the more dangers lie in wait—bandits, beasts, and the unpredictable wrath of nature.”
Those were the warnings passed around by passersby and townsfolk alike, as Hu Bin and his company loaded up their wagon after a short three-day stay in the city of Chang’an. Everyone looked worried, tense, and on edge…
Everyone, that is, except for Ah-Qing.
While her guards fussed over her every movement, her new silk sash tied tighter than ever to prevent a second kidnapping, the girl in question wore a bright and cheerful face.
Why, you ask?
Because her gaze… was fixed on Guan-ge, who was hauling crates and sacks near the ox-cart.

Lady from Da Yuan: “Aaaaaaaaaahhh!!!”
Dancer girl (modulating her voice with full flair): “Oh my heavens! He’s so handsome! Not too bulky, not too skinny—gods above, I’m dying!!”

Ahem… I, the narrator, shall refrain from commenting on our dear Guan Yu’s physique. Heaven forbid anyone calls me an immodest feline!
But between a Xiongnu iron stallion and that chest of his… Let’s just say, I’d rather rest on his chest first, then ride the horse later. Meow~ (Cue chorus of unimpressed ladies muttering “Really?” in sync.)

And so… the wagons began to roll.
The wheels creaked. The hooves of mules and horses clopped steadily on the dirt road, heading steadily away from Chang’an.
They all moved forward, unaware of what lay ahead—
But aware enough to know there would be no turning back.
Ah-Qing looked back one last time at the city behind her. She burned the image into her mind—of its rooftops, its walls, its winding alleys.
She closed the curtain gently, then settled back beside her father…The memory of that moment—the abduction, the fear, and how Guan-ge and that little soot-faced boy saved her , burned bright in her chest.
Her heart pounded like a war drum, her body shifted restlessly. Even Hu Bin began to notice.
‘She’s truly growing up now…’ he thought, smiling quietly.
He said nothing to his beloved daughter, choosing instead to sit quietly at her side.
As the wagon rolled further and further from Chang’an, the shadows of buildings, the familiarity, the warmth of the city—all began to fade.
Another chapter… quietly closed.

High Noon
The sun spared no mercy.Its rays pierced eyes like a thousand needles and scorched skin as if poured with boiling water.
Yet still, hooves pressed forward. Feet marched onward. Wagon wheels turned and turned.
“Hey! What’s wrong with you?! Hey—hey!!”Shouts echoed from the back of the caravan, so loud even Hu Bin at the front jolted in alarm.
Ah-Qing and Guan Yu heard it too.
At once, Hu Bin signaled for the caravan to halt. They leapt from the wagon and ran back toward the commotion.
And there, they found the cause.
…One of the maidservants had collapsed—her face pale, lips cracked, eyes glassy with exhaustion.
Two companions held her up by the arms.
It took no genius to know: the girl was dehydrated.

Ah-Qing’s smile faded. For the first time, she began to understand…This journey wasn’t going to be a romantic adventure.
It was real. And it could cost lives.
Guan Yu stepped forward and helped hold the girl steady, his voice calm but urgent. “Boil a cooling herbal decoction immediately. Then ration clean water to everyone—every half-hour, without fail.”
The servants looked toward Hu Bin and Ah-Qing, then to Guan Yu again.
Only the two Hu family members had any real knowledge of medicine.
Ah-Qing met his gaze and nodded—silent, but her thoughts screamed inside:“I’ll help. I don’t want anyone to die on this journey…”

They’re divided into teams.
Some gathered wood and fuel.Others assisted in preparing herbs.
Out came the fine lacquered medicine boxes then the tools, laid gently on white cloth: Steel cups, grinding mortars, and small cloth pouches filled with pungent herbs.
Licorice root. Himalayan lotus bulbs. Reed rhizomes. Dried chrysanthemum blossoms…
Each one chosen carefully by the small, deft hands of the young Hu daughter. “Guan-ge, pass me the Bai He,” she said, eyes fixed on her measurements.
“It’s right beside you,” he replied, handing her the pouch without hesitation.
The servants nearby exchanged glances. Some smiled. Others stifled giggles.The heat rising between them was worse than the fire under the kettle.
The scent of chrysanthemum floated on the wind. The water bubbled and frothed. A new medicine was born in this harsh wilderness—
Not just to heal the body, but to lift the weary hearts of all.

And as Hu Bin glanced discreetly, he saw…His daughter’s hand brush against the boy’s.
And his disciple—eyes fierce like a hawk—quickly turned away when she looked back.
Another father might have scolded, or tapped them with a walking stick. But not Hu Bin.
He wore wisdom and virtue like a robe. He had raised his daughter not as a fragile flower, but as a remedy—
A scent both sweet and strong.
‘One day,’ he thought, stroking his chin with a smile, ‘She’ll win that boy’s heart. But not yet. Let them wait.’

Oh flower, oh flower, blooming in spring, waiting for the bee to come and sip thy sweetness.
If thou wilt not open, wilt not bloom—how can the bee come near?
Oh bee, oh bee, soaring in the wind, longing to find the perfect bloom.
But if thou wilt not seek, wilt not fly—what flower shalt thou find to taste its scent?

Dancer (swoons):“Ughhh my hearttttt…”
Official’s Wife:“Dear, I’m going to faint!”(drops dramatically)
Court Official: “Don’t you faint yet! I’ll faint right after you!”

Ah… the first buds of love are beginning to sprout in their hearts.And perhaps… in yours as well.
But stay calm, dear readers.
Stay calm…
This path is far from easy,far from safe,far from kind.
Do you remember what age this is?
Once the girl recovered slightly, she was moved into the shade of a wagon, she would need time and water to heal. Others return to their duties and the caravan moves on once more…

The wheels creaked.
Hooves clopped.
Hearts beat in time with the road’s rhythm.
The unknown path stretched endlessly ahead…What awaits them down that path? Bandits? Beasts with claws and fangs? Or monsters in human skin—creatures who wear the mask of humanity only to bring pain to their own kind?
What lies between each step and at the road’s end? No one knows… until the time comes.
And all we can do is wait and pray – That they suffer no more pain, no more sorrow.For something far crueler than scorching sunlight or the harshness of the wilderness awaits them…
Something far ahead, in a future they cannot foresee. Something that, once it comes, will hurt more deeply than anything they’ve ever known in their youth.

Wandering Monk (palms together):“We all know how the story ends… or think we do, but we will not interrupt the tale telling…Go on, dear Black Cat. Tell us more.”
Market Woman (wiping tears):“I just want them to be happy…Like my own children… laughing and playing under the sun…”
Market Man:“Ah, youth… so short….And we, the grown ones, forget to treasure it far too soon.”

Chapter Text

“Your Majesty… I bring grave news,” whispered a courtier, bowing deeply before a figure seated behind a veil on the throne. The hall was silent, thick with dread and questions, as if fear had taken root in every breath drawn within its walls.
The figure spoke, trembling. “What… is it?”
“General Guan…has fallen.”
“No… no, it cannot be… I don’t believe it! My brother wouldn’t die so easily—! Ugh… Brother—BROTHERRRRRR!!!”

“Young Master! Young Master, wake up!”
It was the voice of a male servant, calling the eighteen-year-old out of his nightmare. Guan Yu stirred slowly, beads of sweat clinging to his face as he lay flat on a straw mat inside a shared travel tent. His heart thundered , not from bashfulness like when he caught glimpses of the master’s daughter—but something closer to fear. Though he wouldn’t quite admit it.
‘It’s nothing. Probably still shaken from helping that maid who fainted from dehydration… Or maybe the weather changed and my body’s off balance’ he reasoned with himself, wiping off the sweat and getting up along with the others to prepare for the journey ahead.

Morning arrived, and the caravan rolled out of their makeshift resting ground. The creaking of wagon wheels, the clop of hooves and footsteps blended into a rhythm—unintentional, yet strangely poetic—as if fate had begun composing the first lines of a ballad… for someone in this traveling group.
Ah-Qing still sat beside her father, and Guan Yu held steady on the reins of their mule-drawn cart. None of them spoke. Only the forward march echoed—and a secret, unspoken, lay heavy between them.
What awaits these two young ones?
Love?
Dreams?
Visions?
Or something the world of men has no name for?

“Halt! Stop right there!”
A commanding yet youthful voice rang out from somewhere ahead. All eyes turned. Some gasped. Some froze in place. But three people on one particular wagon remained calm and still.
He appeared—no older than twenty—with crimson armor as vivid as blood, riding a horse adorned with red trappings. Behind him rode a small contingent, all clad in matching scarlet steel.
But strangely enough… Hu Bin, who squinted at him from afar, couldn’t help but mutter to himself: “This young man must be a high-ranking officer… Yet with those delicate features, why does he look… so sweet it hurts?”

Indeed, dear reader. This soldier was no towering demigod like Pangu, the one who cleaved heaven and earth. He was slight of frame—almost feminine at certain angles with a graceful hawk-like gaze, a proud nose, and full lips. But his eyes… narrowed ever so slightly, as if always on the lookout for faults in those he disliked.
He smirked, aware of the scrutiny. Then spoke with the polished tone of nobility:
“Elder, were you looking at me?”
“I was,” Hu Bin replied. “And who might you be?”
The young soldier bowed respectfully, hands clasped. “I ,Cao , from Cao clan. Given name, Mengde. I’ve served in Luoyang for five years now. And you, sir?”
“I’m Hu Bin, styled Qizhong. Just a humble scholar earning coins through trade in my spare time.” He smiled, but Ah-Qing and Guan Yu both noticed—it was a strained smile. A forced one.
Cao Mengde’s eyes flicked to the side. A subtle worry crossed his face as he warned: “There’s been recent unrest in Chang’an—Yellow Turban raiders, they say. They’re hiding in trading posts and small villages, so you’d best be careful. But don’t worry…”
He paused, then turned his horse and led his troops down the path—leaving them with words no one would ever forget.
“The troops under Cao Mengde… have never once failed to put down rebellion.”

That gaze—sharp as the sky’s own falcon
More cutting than sabers and polearms
Colder than frost in the dead of winter
Hotter than the noon sun in summer

O radiant light of heaven!
If you burn too fiercely,
If you become intoxicated by your own brilliance…

You may dazzle only once—
But blind countless souls for all eternity.

Guan Yu swallowed hard, hands gripping the reins. That pale face with blood-colored blush and lips, the sharp, suspicious gaze… beautiful, yes—but not the kind of beauty that comforted.
Not like the strange older man he once met in Chang’an, who called himself Liu Xuande.
Not like her, the girl he could no longer love as a sister, though he dared not speak that truth aloud.

Ah-Qing, meanwhile, quietly admitted to herself: yes, the soldier was good-looking, perhaps ten years her senior. But his beauty? Far too cloying for her taste. ‘Ugh! Way too sweet! Not even close to my Guan-ge!’ (Oops!)
But beneath that girlish complaint, something darker stirred in her chest—not admiration, not affection, not even fear. It was something else. A negative feeling one might find even in “good people” who hadn’t yet mastered their hearts.
She didn’t know its name then.

And so the two groups parted—Cao Mengde’s crimson legion and Hu Bin’s caravan—unaware that someday, far in the future, they would cross paths again. As friends… or enemies? That remained to be seen.
Official: “Wait, wasn’t Cao Cao supposed to have tiny eyes, long mustache, and a short beard?”
Merchant: “Yeah, but not yet!”

Haha! You see, this young Cao Cao isn’t quite the opera villain with ghost-pale skin or a face full of whiskers. He’s not even five feet tall yet. That famous mustache? Not grown. And those eyes? Not small—just shrewd and ever-narrowing with suspicion. Guan Yu sensed it, even if he couldn’t name it.

Don’t be fooled by pretty faces. Sometimes, the prettiest things in the world are the deadliest.
Like candies—colorful, sweet-smelling… until they melt down your throat, and the poison hits too late.

Let’s leave the red-clad officer behind for now...We have a pair of protagonists to follow.

Destination ③: Hanzhong
Daoist priest: “Black cat… you brought us here?”
Dancer: “This land… someday it will become Shu—the kingdom of Liu Bei…”
Official’s wife: “Aren’t you guys even a little curious that she saw Guan Yu’s dream?!”

The caravan rolled into a quiet town nestled within tiered mountains, bisected by a meandering river. Unlike bustling Luoyang or Chang’an, this place felt almost otherworldly, like a hidden village painted into being by a heavenly hand. A small town for small tales—yet to be told.

Guan Yu gazed at the scenery with a blank expression, but something in the air… unsettled him. Something heavy pressed into his chest. Not even thoughts of trivial matters could shake it. And still, in the back of his mind: “The troops under Cao Mengde… have never once failed to put down rebellion.”
That voice lingered.
That face is still haunted.

Meanwhile, Ah-Qing browsed stones and minerals for alchemy and paint-making. Her eyes landed on a passing couple, middle-aged, walking with two little twin girls in the man’s arms and a six-year-old boy tugging at the woman’s sleeve.
And then… she saw someone else.
A pale man in civil official robes, floating just above the ground, following the family like a wisp of smoke.
Not… human.
“What in the—?” She blinked. He vanished. But two strange words whispered into her mind like echoes from the future:
Wolóng... Fengchu…
(Sleeping Dragon. Young Phoenix.)
She shook her head. Went back to haggling. But something told me… she would never forget those words.

“Little miss…”
A woman at the booth, likely the merchant’s wife, called out. “Would you like a fortune reading?”
“Eh? Me?”
“No charge, dear. I just feel… you’ve got something unusual about you. I couldn’t help myself.”
Ah-Qing hesitated, then nodded.

She was led behind the stall and seated, offering her hand. The woman examined it, along with her face, ears, brow, and skull shape.
“Hm… large, clear eyes—like a newborn fawn. You’re bright, lively, but too innocent yet. When you grow, you’ll be wise and sharp—worthy of marrying a high official or general. Shame about the short neck, though. If it were longer, you could’ve been an imperial consort or empress.”
Ah-Qing grinned, barely suppressing a giggle. A consort? An empress? Not her. She would never share the man she loved with other women. If love existed, it should belong to one person only.
“Your figure’s balanced—neither too thin nor too plump. Hips like a foreign girl’s—not Han at all. But that’ll make childbirth easy.”
“Ugh, childbirth? That’s scary!”
“Don’t worry, child. Your fate holds no difficult labor, nor death in childbirth.”

Then… the woman grew serious. She stared into the palm, eyes narrowing.
Ah-Qing, still amused, blurted out “Will I get married?”
“Yes… you’ll marry the one you love most. A man with a rare fate—destined to stray from the path of scholars and become a warrior.” Ah-Qing blinked.
Guan-ge? A warrior?
The same boy who couldn’t hit her in practice? Who once wept over a fallen bird’s nest?

“There’s more,” the woman said, as if sensing her doubts. “You’ll be the wife of a mighty general. You’ll rise high. People will call you Lady of the Commander. You’ll have wealth, servants, everything.” Ah-Qing’s heart bloomed. She imagined Guan Yu in silk robes… or dressed in full armor, standing beside her in lavish finery. Her eyes sparkled like a thousand stars.
“But…” The woman’s tone shifted. “Where there is joy, there is sorrow. Let me say it, even if you’d rather not hear.”
The girl’s smile vanished.

“You will be separated from him three times.
Once, to protect you from harm sway.
Twice, because of enemies.”

“He will love only you.
You’ll have four children.
But one will die… before the fourth is born.”

“And on the third separation…You may lose your heart, your eyes…And your life.”

Silence fell. The crowd, the market, even the stone street disappeared from her senses. Only a leaden weight remained in her chest. She clenched her fist.
‘No way…’
‘I believe the part about marrying Guan-ge. Him rising high. Us having children. But the rest?’
‘Karma can be changed… right?’

That was what the young girl told herself. Or perhaps… It was simply the first lie she ever told herself to keep going.

The bamboo shoot trembles in the wind.
The flower sways beneath the rain.

Destiny and fate—alike yet unlike.
Fate is old, firm, hard to escape.
Destiny is new—ever turning like a wagon wheel.

Where will you steer it, little one?
Toward glory?
Or the abyss?
Laughter and weeping—
Which will echo in the end?

Perhaps… it is not heaven that writes your story.
But your own two hands.

So write it well, little one.
Write it well.

Chapter Text

Late afternoon in Hanzhong.
The town, already quiet by nature, was now nearly silent.
Though a few inns and taverns stood open to travelers, none of them had the bustling air of the great cities. Under the eaves of one modest inn, Master Hu Bin sat with his daughter, his disciples, and a few attendants—this would be their lodging for the night.
“Guan Yu…” Hu Bin called out in a tired drawl. “I’m feeling a chill. Could you go fetch a jin of white liquor for me?”
“Yes, Master,” the young man replied promptly, standing and heading off with a few coins in hand.
The stillness of the town, mingled with its chilly air, was unnerving. Guan Yu walked steadily, eyes ahead, not paying much attention to stray voices or faces. He had one goal: find somewhere that sold decent wine.
That was when he heard—

“Are you going to pay up or not?!”
“Please, just give me a little more time! I swear I’m not running away!”
He turned. Three or four burly men were cornering a woman and her young daughter. The child clung to her mother, sobbing as one of the men yanked the woman by the collar.
A cold rush surged through Guan Yu—not from fear, but anger. A righteous fury that seized his body.
‘If it were your mother, your sister, or your daughter… Would you stand by like this?’
‘Or if it were the woman you loved—’
He was nearly upon them, blood boiling, ready to knock the brutes out cold. But then—

Whssshh—THUNK!

“AUGH! Who the hell did that?!”
One of the thugs staggered, clutching his eye where a pebble had struck. He wasn’t badly hurt, but the bruise was sure to stay.
All eyes turned toward the source of the stone, including Guan Yu’s. Standing there, not far off, was a boy in white—no more than eleven or twelve , with a makeshift sling in one hand. He looked like he’d come from humble roots despite his refined bearing, freckles scattered across his cheeks. His presence was noble, his movements calm and precise.

“Ah-Long?! Isn’t that the bastard kid from the Zhao household?!”
“Oi! Stay out of grown-ups’ business, you little rat!”
Ah-Long didn’t answer. He simply picked up more pebbles, tucked them in his cloth sling, and with perfect aim, began flinging them:
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

“Gahhh! This ain’t worth it—RUN!”
The thugs fled. The mother bowed low. “Young Master Zhao… thank you!”
“Please don’t call me that, Auntie,” the boy replied softly. “I won’t be one for long.”
“…Eh?”
The boy, surname Zhao, looked up at the sky with a sad smile. Guan Yu, watching from the sidelines, could guess what had happened. This child—likely a year younger than Ah-Qing—must have endured much already.
“No doubt the main wife mistreated him again,” the woman murmured. “Did she…?”
“She accused me of hurting her son,” the boy said, simply. “Father believed her and cast me out.”

The late sun was already cold.
But the blood in Guan Yu’s veins grew colder still.

“Where’s he gone off to now?” Hu Bin mused, eyes scanning the street from the inn. “Surely he’s not dawdling…” Before long, his dear disciple returned—and behind him trotted the boy in white, cheerful despite everything.
“Guan Yu… who’s this little fellow?”
“His name is Ah-Long,” Guan Yu explained. “He was cast out. I pitied him… and thought we could give him shelter for the night.”
Hu Bin raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, he smiled gently and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And the wine?”
“I apologize, Master. On the way there, I came across a mother and child being harassed by thugs, so I—”
“No need,” Hu Bin interrupted warmly. “I wasn’t craving wine that badly. Helping others in need… that’s far better.”
He turned to the boy. “Ah-Long, child… where are you headed?”

The boy replied clearly and confidently, with words well beyond his years. “Though my father no longer claims me, some righteous kin have arranged for me to travel to Changshan and seek refuge.”
“Ahaha! Excellent!” Hu Bin beamed. “Such sharp wit from one so young!”
He turned to Guan Yu. “Let him stay with you tonight. Look after him, would you?”
“Yes, Master.”

Upstairs at the inn, Guan Yu led Ah-Long down the wooden hallway, holding a lantern in one hand. Ah-Qing had come to greet them halfway and was chatting merrily with their new guest, treating him like a little brother she never had.
“What’s your real name, Ah-Long~?”
“Yun,” he replied. “Zhao Yun.”
“Yun… the clouds of House Zhao…”
“They say my mother gave birth to me on a day when rain clouds returned after a long drought. That’s what my aunts told me.”
“And the nickname? Long means ‘dragon,’ doesn’t it?”
“Yes… The clouds looked like a dragon, they say. So they gave me that name too.”
The girl and boy chatted cheerfully. Guan Yu, meanwhile, walked quietly ahead with the lantern, debating whether to say something… or just call it a night.

THUMP!

“Oof! I’m sorry, sir—”
“What the hell?! You lookin’ for a fight?!”
The man towering over them looked to be in his early twenties, tall and broad as Pangu himself, with fierce eyes and a thug’s swagger. The trio froze—Guan Yu included.
“Speak up! You wanna fight Lü Fengxian, huh?!”

Everyone: “…Wait, WHAT?!”
Official : “Lü Fengxian…L-Ü-F-E-N-G-X-I-A-N… that’s Lü Bu!”
Woman from Dayuan: “WHAT is happening?!”

Ah… here we go again. Last time it was the unborn soul of a genius atop Mount Wolong. Before that, the first meeting was with Liu Bei and Zhang Fei at Chang’An.
At this point, even I—the humble narrator—can’t tell if all these stories are real… or if someone’s just dreaming them.
But let’s set that aside for now! Because things are heating up fast!

Ah-Qing, ever quick-witted, recovered first and replied to the brute with perfect civility… and maximum sass:
“Dear Sir Lü, we were simply returning to our room. Might you kindly step aside? It’s difficult for others to pass, you see.”
‘Oh, Heaven above, not again!’ Guan Yu groaned inwardly. But deep down, he admired her. ‘With that tongue, no man will ever dare cross her.’
‘Sis is really not afraid of this guy… huh?’ Ah-Long blinked, both impressed and nervous.
Lü Fengxian clenched his fists, his already-fierce eyes narrowing. “You… you’re just a woman! And you DARE talk back to me?!”
“And why shouldn’t I~?” she replied sweetly—but with a deadly glint.
(At this point, Guan Yu was dying inside, while Ah-Long just smiled awkwardly but clearly admired her.)
Sensing trouble, Guan Yu stepped forward and gently pulled both Ah-Qing and Ah-Long behind him. “Brother, please forgive my sister. She has a habit of speaking a little too freely. Don’t mind her.”
“Guan-ge!!!” Ah-Qing snapped.
“Enough, Ah-Qing,” he said with a firm look. He turned back to Lü Bu. “Let it be, brother. It’s late, and we’ll just take another way around.”

Lü Bu scowled. “Tch! Get lost then! Don’t try to act all noble, you stuck-up pricks!” He stomped off. A voice called from one of the rooms:
“Lü Bu! I told you not to start trouble!”
“He bumped into me first, Father Ding!” Lü Bu snapped back, stomping down the stairs without entering his room.
And so ended one night in Hanzhong.
A night of new faces—some who may become allies, others enemies, in the long years ahead.
They had no way of knowing they would meet again.

Official’s Wife: “I pray that they… even Lü Bu… find some joy while they’re still young.”
Merchant Woman: “Mmm… The world’s going to twist even more soon. I’m scared, truly.”
In the shadows of that Hanzhong night, none could know whether the fates awaiting these souls would be sweet, bitter, or silent.

But for now, they could still laugh.
Still walk side by side.
Still quarrel without drawing swords… just walk away.
And for one more night— There were no blades drawn.
No blood spilled on the ground.

Not yet.
Not like it will be, decades from now, in a time of endless war…
A war that will show no mercy to anyone.

Chapter Text

“Alright! No one’s left behind, right? If you’re ready… let’s move out!”

With that command from the elder of the Hu clan, wheels turned, hooves clopped, and footsteps echoed as the caravan began its journey. Everything gradually faded away ,the town of Hanzhong, the life they had there—like a scene from a stage play slowly dimming before the curtains fall. Someday, perhaps, the curtain would rise again… in some distant future.

Ah-Long, seated beside Guan Yu on the mule-drawn cart carrying Hu Bin and his daughter, glanced back once more at the place he had called “home”—a home that wasn’t truly his, a family that was and wasn’t his all at once. He clutched a small jade ornament carved with a dragon, holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Dear Mother in Heaven… please watch over me. And everyone else too.” He murmured softly, eyes filled with a wistful longing, before turning to face the road ahead.

The journey is long, dear child,
Do not be anxious, do not cry.
Smile, laugh, take joy in each step.
When you grow older—please, don’t forget…

It was late morning and, thankfully, no one fainted from the heat like last time. They had eaten well that morning, and there was still enough food and water to last through lunch, dinner, and perhaps even into tomorrow.

Today, Guan Yu had Ah-Long at his side—a sharp-eyed boy who pointed out stones and potholes, warned of bumps, and chattered away to keep the journey from growing too dull.

“Guan-ge, doesn’t Qing-jie seem different from most women?”

“…Mm.”

“But I like her! Her skin’s super pale, her eyes are huge, and she even smiled sweetly at me~!”

Guan Yu gave a quiet nod, saying nothing, deep in thought. He didn’t realize the two passengers behind them—Hu Bin and Ah-Qing—were watching, amused smiles on their faces. The girl leaned over to whisper to her father, “If I had a little brother that cute, I’d adore him to death, Father!”

But when a certain question escaped the boy’s lips, both Guan Yu and Ah-Qing stiffened.

“So… do you like Qing-jie?”

The eighteen-year-old cleared his throat and replied lowly, “I just… care about her. As my master’s daughter, and like a little sister I’ve grown fond of.”

With that, he turned his full attention back to the reins. But his already-red skin deepened in color—whether from the sun or embarrassment, it was unclear. Amused, Ah-Long pressed on with a smirk.

“Liar~ Your face is sooo red! You totally like her!”

But what Guan Yu didn’t realize was that his answer—casual and unthinking—cut deeper than he knew. Beneath the canvas canopy of the cart, someone swallowed a lump of emotion she didn’t yet have a name for. Now she did.

Hurt.

'Is that… all I am to him?'
'I don’t want to be just my teacher’s daughter… or just his little sister anymore.'

Her father seemed to sense it. Hu Bin gently laid a hand over his daughter’s and gave her the same kind smile he always had when comforting her during lonely nights remembering her late mother.

“Ah-Qing… he’s just being honest in his own way. Don’t hold it against him.”

“I just don’t understand,” she whispered. “He should know how I… how I feel.”

Hu Bin sighed and spoke of something he had observed years ago, when he first took Guan Yu under his wing. “Do you know, child… your Guan-ge isn’t like other people. Others might come up with a hundred reasons to hide their true feelings. Not him.”

Ah-Qing tilted her head, silently curious. Her father continued without waiting. “When he feels something, he says it. No lies. No masks. But sometimes, a new feeling can confuse him—so much so that he doesn’t know what to call it… or how to show it.”

At that, her disappointment eased. In its place, understanding bloomed. She looked toward her Guan-ge—still stoically driving the cart while Ah-Long leaned over, singing, playacting, and poking fun at him with endless youthful energy. A soft warmth filled her heart.

Hu Bin murmured, “Perhaps… he’s like a celestial being, sent down to this world for the first time. You’ll have to give him time to adjust.”

And Ah-Qing closed her eyes, swept into that dream.

'Angels live in heaven. Heaven is where good souls go…'

'Mother is there. Guan-ge might have been there too. Maybe… there are so many angels that heaven overflowed—so some had to be born down here instead.'

'And when those who came from heaven meet each other, they gather, band together, and try to make this world just as lovely as the one they left behind.'

'I want to be one of those angels for Guan-ge. I want to make the world beautiful with him!'

Dear listener… let me tell you: While we yet live and breathe, we too can become heavenly beings in this world. It was once said—those who constantly do good, who are joyful in heart, and whose faith is guided by wisdom, are “human devas.” [1] And surely, those human devas… they are the ones who bring immense good to this world.

Official, his wife and companions (in chorus): "Why so?”

Because those who shine with the beauty of divinity all wish this:
“We desire peace upon this earth. We shall forsake evil, do good always, and encourage others to join us on this path of virtue.”

And so, dear listener, along this journey through the sands, walk three such souls—each a deity-in-the-making. Time and trials ahead will decide whether they are worthy of such a name.

“It’s still a long way to Zhangye… If we try to reach the city gates by today, it’ll be far too late,” Hu Bin declared, and the caravan came to a halt in a wide-open plain, barren of trees or shelter. Though it had been hot earlier, the chill of evening was creeping in.

Ah-Long, now on foot, clung to Guan Yu’s hand and looked up nervously.

“Guan-ge… you think there’ll be tigers here?”

“Nah. In a place this dry? If any came, they’d starve to death.”
A perfectly deadpan joke.

“Even if one did show up, we’d gang up on it! There’s so many of us, even beasts would be scared…” Ah-Qing chimed in softly, hugging a doll close to her chest.

Night fell. The wind howled. Flames crackled from the campfire as murmurs, snorts from the horses and mules, and the occasional cough filled the silence. Guan Yu, Ah-Qing, and Ah-Long sat near the fire, and soon a conversation began.

“You and Elder Hu… don’t look like Han Chinese,” Ah-Long blurted out. Guan Yu almost scolded him, but Ah-Qing raised a hand and answered with a smile.

“That’s both true and untrue.”

“Eh?”

“My grandfather was a Hu merchant. My grandmother was Han. Then my father married my mother, who was Han. So we’re Hu and Han… and yet neither.”

Ah-Long frowned, trying to piece it together.

“Grandpa Hu, Grandma Han, Father Half-Hu Half-Han, Mother Han… Ughhh! So confusing!”

Ah-Qing laughed and ruffled his hair.

“You don’t have to remember it all. Just remember—no one’s made of just one thing.”

Guan Yu, seemingly out of nowhere, added, “Sounds like the Nine Sons of the Dragon.”

“Huh?”

“Qiúniú (Dragon + Ox), Yá Zì (Dragon + Wolf), Cháofēng (Dragon + Phoenix)…”

Ah-Long’s eyes lit up. “More! More!”

“I wasn’t talking about mythical beasts!” Ah-Qing pouted, her feelings dramatically wounded—but she was already picturing them all in her head.

Guan Yu continued undeterred. “Púláo (Dragon + Frog), Suānní (Dragon + Lion), Bìxì (Dragon + Turtle), Bì’àn (Dragon + Tiger), Fùxī (White Dragon + Azure Dragon), and Chǐwěn (Dragon + Fish). That’s all of them.”

“Great… Now I’ll probably dream of weird dragon hybrids tonight. Thanks a lot,” Ah-Qing snarked.

“Which one am I, Guan-ge?” Ah-Long yawned.

“Suānní, maybe? I’ve never seen a lion, but I’ve heard they’re brave and fierce, like tigers. You’re pretty brave, too.”

Guan Yu stood and walked off without another word. No “good night,” no “sweet dreams.” Nothing.

He didn’t know… that this silence, this cool distance—was enough to make a certain girl’s heart skip wildly. 'Ugh, seriously? Am I blushing… because of a story about dragon monsters!?'

And so she wondered… would she sleep at all tonight?

PS. As for Ah-Long—he was delighted. “I am Zhoa Suānní!!! A DRAGON-LION HYBRID!!!”

(The entire camp jumped in shock.)

Chapter Text

The Fourth Destination: Zhangye, also known as Ganzhou (modern-day Gansu Province)

“Elder! Guan-ge! Ah-Qing! Look over there!”
Ah-Long’s voice rang out with excitement as he pointed toward the scenery flanking the road just before the city gates. And oh—what a sight! Jagged, colorful hills like ribbons of rainbow unfurling across the terrain! With golden sands below and a crisp sky above dotted with lazy clouds and a sun just peeking over the horizon, the entire landscape shimmered like some earthly paradise.
“So beautiful…” Still groggy from sleep, Ah-Qing now blinked wide awake. Her amber-brown eyes glittered again like polished gold as she gazed upon the splendor before her. Guan Yu, who was steering the mule-drawn cart, said nothing—but his silence spoke of awe quietly locked within as they approached the city.

After paying the toll and presenting their travel permits, the caravan rolled past the high walls and into the heart of the city. Every eye in the party was struck by the unfamiliar style of the buildings—many made of brick and straw-mud, some flat-roofed and without the elegant tiles seen in Luoyang or Chang’an. Some houses rose several stories high with ornately arched windows, quite alien to Han architecture. Curious children and women peeked from balconies and doorways to watch the travelers pass.
The people here looked different too—not all were Han with pale yellow skin, narrow eyes, and small frames. On one side was a dark-skinned woman with high cheekbones and sharp eyes shouting to passersby to buy sweets and toys. On the other side, fair-skinned
merchants with red or golden hair haggled with local Han traders.

“Qing-jie! Who are those pale-haired men?”Ah-Long whispered, wide-eyed. “They don’t look like any of us.”
“They’re from Kucha and Turfan,” Ah-Qing replied gently.“Many have crossed mountains and deserts for months , some to trade, some to seek answers to life’s great questions.”
The boy nodded solemnly, but then asked, “Can they talk to us?”
“Some of them speak many languages—Sogdian, Sanskrit, even our Han tongue.”
Of course, neither Guan Yu, Ah-Long, nor the Han-born servants could understand any of those ‘strange tongues.’ Only Hu Bin, Ah-Qing, and their long-serving multilingual retainers could read, write, and speak them fluently.

‘What the… ‘Lo’? ‘Lōw’?’ (Guan Yu likely just overheard Roshana, from Avestan or Persian.)
‘Ta…li…ya… and then what?’ (Likely Dārayavaʰuš, aka Darius.)
‘By the name of Goddess Wangmu! What in heaven is ‘Sha-la-tu-de-la’ supposed to mean?!’ (It’s Zarathustra, aka Zoroaster.)
“Oh, my poor fallen immortal …Look at you!” Hu Bin laughed, his whole body shaking as he stifled the urge to burst. His beloved disciple had just turned to him with a look and an expression that seemed to cry out, “Master… I don’t understand any of this!”
Ah-Qing couldn’t resist teasing, “Shall I teach you, then?”
“N-n-no thanks…” Guan Yu muttered, quickly turning back to the reins.

Whether Ah-Long teased him for blushing, or Master Hu and Ah-Qing giggled over his confusion, nothing felt heavier than the great weight of not understanding.
‘Will I survive in this land at all?‘
‘Father, Mother… If I never make it back to Hedong, please know—your son died drunk on languages in Ganzhou!‘

Meow. Honestly, never mind that eighteen-year-old warrior who hadn’t even grown a beard—me, a full-grown spinster cat with years of study behind me, still only speak my mother tongue, the pale-folk tongue from the western isles, and a bit of Pali-Sanskrit for chanting. (T^T)
Now you’re throwing Sogdian? Tocharian? Avestan?! Zaratustra-who? I’d probably glance at Guan-ge, nod slowly, and say “Yeah, bro… I have no idea either.”
So let me skip to the relaxing parts of this journey, will ya? Spare this poor cat-brain!

In the enclosed stone bathing room, warm air clung to every inch of skin. Some came alone, others with sons or brothers—for this was a rare thing in Han lands: a public bath and steamhouse. (Hammam-like)
Guan Yu sat close to Ah-Long—not out of affection, but vigilance. A small boy like him was vulnerable to abduction or worse. And Guan Yu would never let such a thing happen.
“It’s hot, but kinda refreshing once you sweat,” Ah-Long said, stretching his arms.
“Mmm.” Guan Yu nodded.
“Hey, where’s the bath pool again? I lost sight of Elder Hu…”
“That way—left. Come on,” Guan Yu guided him down the corridor.
Suddenly, raised voices rang out. They turned to see a confrontation unfolding—a large man blocking the path of a well-dressed, middle-aged man who appeared ready to leave after bathing. Something felt… off.

“Got money, do you?”
“Good.”
“I said—got any money?!”
“That’s good…”
“Where’d you hide it?! Don’t make me rip that towel off you!”
“Thank you…”

Silence. Not a single sound except—
Drip… drip…
The aggressor grinned. “Silence is best.” And he walked away—calmly. What remained was steam, stillness, and a shattered expression on the man’s face—more cracked than dry land in winter.
Then that man… turned and looked straight at Guan Yu.
“You’ll meet me again… very soon.”

Guan Yu watched him vanish into the mist, as if dissolving into nothing.
He stood frozen until Ah-Long tugged his arm—twice.“Come on, Guan-ge! Bath time! Or we’ll miss dinner!”
They rushed toward the bath, but something inside him—something rippled and never stilled.

“Good.”
“That’s good.”
“Thank you.”
Those three words echoed louder than the splashing of water.

That evening, only Guan Yu, Ah-Long, and a few Han servants ate supper.
Why? Because Hu Bin and his daughter had chosen to fast.
“It’s the full moon tonight,” Hu Bin explained. “It coincides with a Fojiao precept day. We’ll abstain from food after sunset.”
“Sorry, Guan-ge,” Ah-Qing added. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ll be doing this for six days straight.”
Ah-Long didn’t care. But Guan Yu… grew more intrigued. So much so, he barely ate, giving the rest to Ah-Long with a shrug.
“You’re younger. Eat more.”

Afterward, Guan Yu wandered into the garden under the vast desert sky. The moon loomed large and luminous—grander than any he had seen before.
This world… He once believed it was just villages, bamboo groves, streams, rice fields, and the teacher’s house in Hedong. But now… it seemed so vast. And uncertain.
“Is the world fixed or ever-changing?”

“Good. That’s good.” A voice behind him broke his trance.
He turned—and saw the man from the bathhouse. Still in simple robes, his face was calm, eyes peaceful, and his faint smile suggested he knew Guan Yu’s heart without needing to ask.
“You…”
“Who are you?”
“My surname is Sima. Given name, Hui. Most know me as Dechao… but I prefer to call myself Shuijing.”
“Shuijing… the Water Mirror. Clearer than a brazen mirror.”
Sima Hui sighed, then gazed at the moon before lowering his eyes to the pond ahead—where the moon’s reflection shimmered across the surface.

“Do you see the moon reflected there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then tell me… Is the moon in the sky and the one in the water the same?”
Guan Yu pondered. “If I may answer honestly… I’m not sure. May I guess?”
“Go ahead,” the elder said calmly. “I don’t seek right or wrong.”

Meeting Sima Hui’s eyes, Guan Yu spoke with calm conviction. “I believe they are the same. Yet not quite. The moon above is whole, but in the water it ripples—it shifts, it clouds, sometimes disappears. It’s the same moon… but what we see depends on the heart of the beholder, and the stillness of the water.”
The Water Mirror smiled, a serene warmth spreading from his expression.“When there is both ‘yes’ and ‘no,’ certainty and uncertainty, life and death, love and hatred… they all become reflections of one another.”

Guan Yu’s phoenix-like eyes , still young but sharp—gleamed with the light of awakening. Though the night was windless, goosebumps rose on his arms.

“Let me tell you one thing—remember it well,” Shuijing said.
“Your path will be long.
There will be blood.
There will be wounds.
But as long as you know where your heart truly lies…
You will never lose your way.”

And that night, the mysterious man whose insight was clearer than glass… walked away quietly. Leaving behind both a question and its answer for a young man destined to become one of the greatest generals of the age.
Guan Yu knew—deep in his soul—what “home” might mean. Only… it was not the time to retrieve it.

“Just a little more time. Let me grow stronger. Let Master approve of me… Wait for me.”

Chapter Text

“Ah… Guan-ge…”
Somewhere, behind closed doors where no one dared to enter, the air grew thick with something unspoken—love, yearning, and the wordless thread between two souls. Outside, thunder rumbled, a harbinger of rain, as though the heavens themselves were celebrating… or perhaps giving their blessings to this man and woman?
“Easy, Ah-Qing… I’m right here. There’s nothing to fear,” a familiar voice whispered, hands gently cradling her face.
The young woman twisted, eyes half-shut, her voice a muffled moan. “Mmh… Guan-ge… I think I’m—”
Thump!
“Owww!!!”
Heavens above! The moment the girl surnamed Hu fell off the bed, the sweet dream she’d been in evaporated instantly. Her round doe eyes snapped open wide, one leg pointing to the sky while the rest of her body lay crumpled awkwardly on the floor in a position that would’ve sent any onlooker into fits of laughter.
‘Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!’ she thought, clutching her head. ‘Did I seriously have that kind of dream… during my week of precepts?! I’m just—!’
‘B-But… that version of Guan-ge in my dream… KYAAAAA!!! No! Don’t even think about itttt!’
‘Waaahhhh! When will this week of precepts be over?!’
Face buried into pillow and blanket, she let out a muffled sound, a mix of sobbing and embarrassed shrieking—only the gods knew which it was. On the bedside table, a vase of flowers stood still. But if one looked closely…
A single orchid petal glistened with a drop of nectar.

Knock knock knock!
“Gracious heavens!” The sudden knocking startled the girl, who snapped her head toward the door. “Who’s there?! Father? Or one of the maids?!”
“It’s me, Ah-Qing… Come eat already. You’ll miss breakfast if you keep dawdling.”
‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Why?! Why does it have to be GUAN-GE who calls me?! AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!’
Guan Yu knocked again, his deep voice even and calm (but to the one inside, it sounded like the voice of Death himself). “If you don’t hurry, you’ll have to go buy food yourself outside.” Then he walked away, leaving the girl inside… frozen, her cheeks so red they dyed her pale face like peach blossoms in spring.
“Ughh… please, no more weird thoughts!” she moaned, hiding her face with both hands. Then, hurriedly, she folded the blanket, put on her outer garment, and opened the door to rush out to breakfast.

Dancer Girl: “Noooo! Not this trope again!!!”
Lady from Dayuan: “Waaaahhh! I wanna dieeeee~” (clings to the dancer)
Official’s wife: “Seriously?! Can we stop torturing Ah-Qing?! When will Guan-ge—no, screw that, let her pounce on him already!”
Meow! KYAAAAAA don’t hit me, dear ladies! This Black Cat’s just writing what popped into her mind! Let’s all calm down for now, shall we?
I promise it’ll happen eventually… But you all know how strict Confucian legalism can be, don’t you?
That’s right… Even though the world says “Desire is natural” or “Lust is but instinct,” in a society governed by rituals and norms, such feelings are often branded… shameful.
I’m not saying such rules are wrong or that the world needs no ethics at all. That would be like casting away one’s conscience, leaving only raw instinct like a beast. I simply wonder… wouldn’t it be better if no man or woman had to feel guilty for beginning to feel longing? And wouldn’t it be kinder if they could love, feel, and follow their hearts , without stepping outside the bounds of righteousness?

Wandering Monk: “If one engages in self-pleasure unintentionally, especially while asleep… it’s not a sin for a layperson living in the world.”
Official : “Indeed, Master. If there’s any wrongdoing, it applies more to monks. Even layfolk may be free of guilt—unless it happens during a vow of precepts, or in an unseemly place, or… if done to harass a woman who does not reciprocate.”
Merchant’s wife : “Hmm… I hope the day comes when Ah-Qing can share her feelings with that young man surnamed Guan. So she won’t have to repress them like this.”

Yes… When will that day come?

That day, the party hadn’t yet left Ganzhou. They planned to stay a few more days to stock up on supplies and trade for exotic goods not found elsewhere on the mainland. While Ah-Long followed Hu Bin’s attendants on a snack-finding adventure, only Guan Yu and Hu Bin remained in the traveler’s courtyard of the merchant residence where they lodged.
That morning, both men noticed something strange about Ah-Qing… unusually strange. She avoided Guan Yu’s gaze, barely spoke to him, and when she did, it was curt and flat. Gone was her playful mischief. She finished her meal early and slipped away.
“She’s been bathing for quite a while. Not worried about catching cold?” Hu Bin muttered with a sly smile on his lips—he clearly had an idea of what had happened, but chose not to comment. Guan Yu, meanwhile, didn’t even glance toward the bathhouse.
He… didn’t want to violate her, not even in thought.
He believed—it wasn’t time yet.
And he didn’t know what the master thought of him, even if Hu Bin had long treated him as his own son.

“Guan Yu,” Hu Bin suddenly said, as if he’d been reading the youth’s heart. “If a woman offered herself to you, claiming love… what would you do?”
The young man fell silent—not flustered, though his ears flushed red. He clenched his fists, then released them, took a deep breath, and replied, “I… would refuse.”
“Why? Do you find her shameless?”
“No, sir,” Guan Yu answered calmly. “I believe… love alone isn’t enough. For a man and woman to wed, it’s not only the woman who must be virtuous in form, manners, and mind. The man must meet those same standards.” Hu Bin turned to him, eyes the same soft brown as his daughter’s, glinting with pride and the satisfaction of a father whose hopes were close to fruition.
Guan Yu went on, “Many say one’s fortune depends on whom they marry. Then why shouldn’t both man and woman raise their worth equally? Why take shortcuts through marriage alone for wealth or power?”

‘That’s it… That’s the one.’
‘The result of my polishing since he was fourteen… Now, he’s nearly ready to be the jade worthy of my daughter.’

Still looking skyward, Guan Yu added, “Both man and woman should strive—to be diligent, frugal, and make a righteous living suited to their roles. To refine their once-flawed manners. To dress with dignity.”
Hu Bin tested him again. “And… what if the world says you’re wrong?”
“Then I will test it. See just how wrong it really is by Confucian law—and whether any of its laws lead to misery.” He shut his eyes, inhaled deeply, and murmured
“But I will never forsake the laws that uphold the state, honor loyalty, and cherish filial piety.”
Strangely, just then, a cool breeze stirred the desert air—even though the sun had begun to blaze. Hu Bin said nothing more. He simply grinned so wide his cheeks nearly split, already formulating some new plan.

‘It might be a bit unladylike, this idea of mine… I’ll need to speak with Ah-Qing about it. Guide it all gently—so both she and that boy remain safe.’
‘I don’t worry about Guan Yu. It’s that impulsive daughter of mine I fear…’

“Elder! Guan-ge! I got tons of candied jujubes! Come eat!!” Ah-Long’s shrill voice broke the silence, along with chuckles from the adults and a rare smile on Guan Yu’s lips.
“Qing-jie’s not here… so I’m eating this last one~”
“Nooo way! I want some too!” Ah-Qing cried, suddenly appearing and breaking into a run. The jujube tug-of-war that followed was childish and playful, enough to make Hu Bin laugh out loud. But no one noticed…
Father and daughter exchanged a look—a subtle gesture.
As if the father had just issued a silent command… and the daughter had agreed, playing her part flawlessly.
Guan Yu had no idea…That some of Ah-Qing’s sweet, playful acts… held secret charms.
She offered Ah-Long a treat in exchange for the jujube, teased him with a wooden toy tucked into her robe, then pulled back with a mischievous grin before finally giving it to him. Her laughter and smile rang clear.
And just like that… something about it stirred Guan Yu’s heart.
A wind brushing the sand.
And that, dear listeners… is the lesson I leave with you all.
“Feminine allure, when wielded at the right time and in the right way, is not a wicked thing… and may very well pave the way to a love that blossoms sweetly in days to come.”

Facts by the End of Chapter 15: The Forty Feminine Arts of Allure

According to the Commentary on the Dhammapada (Khuddaka Nikāya), in the section known as Brahmana Vagga, specifically the story of Venerable Sundarasamudda Thera, there is a list of forty subtle behaviors that women traditionally used to attract men’s attention or stir their emotions.
These gestures—conveyed through body, speech, and intention—are not necessarily malicious. Rather, they reflect an intimate psychological understanding of human behavior, often involving objects or people such as children, toys, or everyday items as part of the act.
Examples include:
– Flipping one’s sleeves or sash with deliberate flair
– Lightly stepping on someone’s foot or drawing patterns on the ground with toes
– Playing with children (rocking them, inviting play, giving treats or toys, even playfully teasing them)
– Using changes in voice—speaking loudly or softly, directly or indirectly
– Communicating through both open and veiled language
These “arts” are mentioned not as a manual of seduction, but as observations of how human emotions—especially desire—manifest through everyday gestures and social nuance.

Chapter Text

It was the third and final day in Zhangye. Business in the city carried on as usual. Merchants traded spices and silks, taverns offered food and wine, and the entourage of Master Hu Bin enjoyed ample profit through clever bartering and exchanges.
“Twenty… thirty… forty… fifty taels,” Guan Yu counted meticulously before handing a bag of silver to his teacher.
“So quick and precise,” Master Hu praised, accepting the silver with a smile.
The young man simply smiled in return and returned to counting the next bundle. Master Hu, meanwhile, gazed out toward the guest quarters with a grin.
“That girl’s taking forever to pick out her fabric. Must be primping herself.”
Suddenly—

Thump! Thump! Thump!
“Aaaaahhhh!!! That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!” Ah-Long burst in, face streaked with tears and dust, flinging himself into Guan Yu’s arms like a frightened squirrel.
“Guan-geeeee!!! Qing-jie—she let someone poke her face with needles!!!”

‘…What?’
‘…Needles… on her face???’

Guan Yu froze. His eyes went wide.Hu Bin blinked, then smiled knowingly. “Needles? Why so?”
“Master…” Guan Yu said, disbelief lacing his voice. “Your daughter was stabbed in the face.”
Hu Bin guffawed, waving it off. “Oh, you naïve red-faced boy. Beauty often comes with pain. Men like us will never truly understand.”
“But… Master, aren’t you also a man?” Ah-Long said, bewildered.
“I raised that girl myself, boy!” Hu Bin huffed, faking offense.

At that moment, Guan Yu’s mind spun back—he remembered Ah-Qing going off to the market with Ah-Long earlier, yet she hadn’t returned with him. ‘Where did she go… and who stabbed her?!’
“I’ll go get her,” he announced, stepping forward with determination. “I can’t bear to see a woman in pain!”
He had barely taken a step when—
“Guan-ge, where are you going?”

He froze.
There she stood. Ah-Qing is…still Ah-Qing—the same daughter of Hu Bin, the same desert-born girl of wandering heritage. Everything about her was the same… except for the four small dots marked on each cheek. Not drawn. Etched. Tattooed.

“Ah-Qing… you…”
His mind reeled.
‘The body is given by one’s parents…’
‘Why would she deface it…?’
‘No! Don’t scold her—don’t you dare.’

Before he could say anything, her slender fingers grazed his shoulder—soft, slow, playful. Her smile curved like the moon’s edge, her eyes shimmering. “If you’re free tonight… wait for me in the merchant’s courtyard. I’ve something I want everyone to see,” she whispered, before skipping off to tease her father, leaving Guan Yu standing frozen in place, cheeks burning.
‘Even if her face bore great blemishes… she’d still be beautiful.’
A lesson began to form in the boy raised on rules—rules that now trembled under her gaze.

Later that afternoon, Guan Yu refused wine and food. He sat alone in his room, reading the texts he’d carried since they left Hedong. But the words blurred. A memory stirred.
Four years ago, back at home…
A young Ah-Qing , only nine then , was dancing in the courtyard. Not like palace dancers he had seen in carved reliefs, but in spirals, like a forming storm. Her arms swept in hypnotic circles, spinning faster and faster… yet she showed no sign of dizziness.
“Young Master,” a Yue servant whispered to him at the time, “Would you like to learn? Male dances are different, but just as stirring.”
“I’ll try,” he said.

‘Will she dance like that again tonight?’
‘Should I try it too? The dance I’ve practiced in secret these four years?’
With a burst of resolve, Guan Yu closed his book and unrolled a silk cloth. He picked up a brush and began to write quickly, before the thoughts fled:
“A woman without blemish may be beautiful,
But if the world held only one form of beauty…
Would not ten thousand things be dull to behold?”
As if heaven inspired him, he paused—but then heard voices outside.
“Qing-jie… why did you get your face tattooed?”
“Oh, these? They’re adornments to make my face prettier.”
“But… It looks like a mole! And you can’t erase it! Isn’t that… um…”
“It’s not unfilial, Ah-Long.”
Guan Yu smiled without realizing. She was just outside—but he didn’t wish to interrupt.
“If fear of being unfilial stops every choice we make,” her voice continued, “then women who powder their faces should be condemned too.”
He thought to himself…If someday the Han people rejected her for being “too different,” how would he bear it?
‘No. I won’t let that happen. I’ll protect her.’
He dipped his brush again.
“Tell me…
When the sky is starless,
Can you still call it beautiful?”
He didn’t need to confess love.
He simply needed to honor and protect her. That… was worth more than any crown.

That evening, an unfamiliar melody rose in the courtyard—not the guqin’s soft streams, nor temple bells, nor the muted clinks of stone xylophones. No, these were the sounds of raw, wild beauty.
Pipas. Round ruans. Exotic flutes. Twangy khomuz. Several erhus. All playing in harmony.
The lively music made guests eat, drink, and laugh with delight. It felt like joy had taken physical form. All but one person joined in—Guan Yu sat still, his teacher beside him feigning sips of wine to entertain a merchant host.
Where was Ah-Qing?
Then, the music changed. Slower. Haunting. A golden chime tingled in the air.
Gling… gling…
Ah-Long leaned in. “Sounds like the bells on that ‘camel’ creature we saw in the market…”
And then, the girl appeared.
From behind the curtain, she emerged—silent, still. The air stilled with her.
She no longer wore Han garments. Draped in a red robe trimmed with golden threads, she looked like a desert princess—perhaps even a daughter of a distant sovereign.
When the first notes of the ruan rang out, she raised her arm, letting the bells on her wrist tinkle in time. Then again. And again. She spun. She waved. Her body moved like the wind kissing the sand—fluid, mysterious, breathtaking.
“She’s beautiful…” Ah-Long whispered, awestruck.
“That girl… she’s the flower of our house,” Hu Bin boasted to the merchants, eyes gleaming.
Guan Yu said nothing. His eyes locked on her. And then—
He rose.
No hesitation. No embarrassment. Step by step, he approached her. The musicians slowed their tempo as if awaiting his lead.
He and Ah-Qing met in the center of the courtyard. Eyes met. They bowed.
And then—she clapped.
Music soared.
They danced.
Two bodies, two spirits, moving in harmony—like twin threads of silk weaving in air. Sweet, strong, unyielding. Dazzling.
Servants stared, shocked that their quiet young master could dance at all. Those who had taught him cheered softly from the side.
“I told you!” one whispered. “He’s winning both the master and the girl tonight!”
And among them all, only Hu Bin noticed something deeper.
The smile of his daughter—wide, bright as pearls. Free, like a desert flower finally blooming after years confined behind Han decorum.
And the smile of his beloved student—sincere and content, more radiant than ever before.
He reached into his sleeve and unrolled the silk Guan Yu had gifted him before the feast.
“A woman without blemish may be beautiful…
But if the world held only one form of beauty…
Would not ten thousand things be dull to behold?

The moon may shine, but the stars too, cast light.
Why must we love only the moon,
And dismiss the stars in the sky?

Tell me…
When the sky is starless,
Can you still call it beautiful?”
Hu Bin smiled, eyes glistening. He whispered:
“I chose well… Just a little longer now.”

Chapter Text

“Ah-Long… are you really heading to Changshan on your own?”
“Please don’t worry, Elder. I already know where the caravan to that region departs.”
From a distance, Guan Yu and Ah-Qing watched Master Hu speak with the boy surnamed Zhao. Their eyes wavered, hearts stuttering ever so slightly.
It had only been a few days… and yet these sons and daughters of Han had already grown fond of each other as if they were kin. When, they wondered, would their paths cross again?
“No one’s going to tease you anymore… Guan-ge is going to be lonely now,” Ah-Qing whispered, using her sleeve to wipe the tears rolling freely down her cheeks.
Guan Yu said nothing—but the look in his eyes, watching Ah-Long’s figure disappear into the distance, was thick with unspoken longing.

He is gone, gone so far
O son of the dragon, Zhao Yun
Fly upon clouds and mist , how long will you return?

Float on, float on, O dragon child,
Float on, float on, Zhao Yun
But don’t forget, don’t lose your way, little one
For someday, you may meet your brothers again.

Not now. Not in this youth.
But in a future far, far from your grasp.
A future beyond what your fingers can reach.

“Farewell… son of the dragon,” the red-faced young man murmured, as though whispering his farewell into the wind, the sun, and the sand , hoping they would carry it to Ah-Long’s ears. Then he turned away, ready to continue on his own path.
With their affairs in Zhangye wrapped up, including settling the inn’s bills, Master Hu Bin’s caravan prepared to move forward.

And this time, dear listeners…
It was camel time.
Mmmgruhhh~ (Camel sounds)
“I don’t get you… are you pleased or just fed up with me?” Guan Yu squinted at the camel he’d been assigned to lead. It was more inscrutable than any horse or mule he’d ever dealt with.
Ah-Qing came closer, inspecting the camel’s long curled lashes. She glanced at her older companion with a private little thought: ‘Your lashes could compete… almost.’
Then she gently reached out and stroked the camel’s head. It lowered its gaze, humming in satisfaction.
‘If only I could understand foreign tongues—or animals—the way she does…’ Guan Yu thought, a tinge of envy creeping in as he watched Ah-Qing skip off to chatter with her maidservants.
“Guan Yu!” called Master Hu Bin, rushing over with several items in hand. Before the boy could say a word, something oily and unfamiliar was smeared across his face.
“This! Sesame oil mixed with safflower—it’ll keep your skin from blistering or burning in the sun!” Hu Bin announced. Without pause, he wrapped a cloth tightly around the boy’s head and face.
“There. Sunproof, windproof, dustproof! And I’ll make sure everyone else follows suit!”
He hurried away, leaving behind a flushed-faced youth now wrapped head-to-face in cloth, revealing only his eyebrows and those beautiful phoenix eyes now brimming with questions.
‘What other weird things lie ahead on this journey?’
‘How will I handle them?’
‘When will the trading end so I can… Hm. No, maybe not yet. What would Master think…?’

Thud. Thud. Strange creatures stepped lightly upon the sand.
Thud. Thud. Endless dunes, searing sun, and a dry, burning wind.
Thud. Thud. Golden bells jingled faintly with every step.
O blazing sun, dim your light a little.
O dear wind, show us mercy and blow more gently.

Spare them, please spare them,
For now there is something hotter than the noonday sun,
More stirring than the wind lifting the sand.
Spare them, O heavens and earth, O spirits of the world,
Have mercy on the young man and young woman.
Let no dark shadow fall upon them,
Let no scorching ray burn their hearts to ash.
Spare them… O spare them.

Master Hu Bin’s caravan now had fewer than a hundred followers. Most of the Han servants had chosen to remain in Zhangye, claiming they would guard the goods and merchandise—but we all know the truth, don’t we?
Han folk of this era weren’t made for the desert sun.
Ah-Qing, seated atop a camel adorned with vibrant cloth and tassels, looked back over her shoulder. The rainbow-colored mountains were no longer in sight. All that stretched ahead was a vast expanse of pale brown earth and sand, with nothing but scraggly little bushes here and there.
That was enough for her to understand: the road to Dunhuang would not be gentle.
Guan Yu led the camel she rode. He did not look back. Not even at the one riding just behind him. His eyes focused only on the path ahead , the distant, uncertain stop before Dunhuang.
And in a moment between breeze and breath, Ah-Qing spotted drifting wisps of sand that seemed to take the shape of floating deities. She looked up at the clouds stretching far above, shaped like dragons swimming freely across the sky.

Was what she saw real?
Who could say?
I, the humble narrator, cannot tell if what the girl beheld truly existed, or if it was merely the mirage of an ancient traveler’s boredom. You, dear listeners, must decide for yourselves whether ghosts, gods, and spirits walk this world.
For now… is not yet the time for tales of the miraculous.
But the tales to come? Oh, they will be far more dazzling than any miracle you’ve heard.

Ah-Qing suddenly swayed atop her camel, a hand rising to her brow. Her body tilted dangerously as if she were faint from thirst or heatstroke. The maids following behind screamed in alarm.
Fortunately, the boy surnamed Guan noticed it first. In one swift movement, he turned and caught her as she collapsed, pulling her body tight against his chest.
He was about to set her back in place when he realized—
Her hand. It had latched onto his robes. It clung to him. It pressed into him.
And the way it lingered…
It stirred something in him. Something that had never stirred before—not under this rooftop, not in the role of “kind elder brother” to the master’s daughter.
Ah-Qing wasn’t truly faint, of course. Everything she’d done—her swooning, her touch—was a calculated performance.
The art of a young woman determined to be close to the man she desired.
“Guan-ge…” she whispered, voice breathy and sweet, just enough to make him dizzy despite his stoic face. “I’m so thirsty…”
“Ah… Here, take this.” He placed her carefully back on the saddle and handed her the water pouch hanging at his waist. Then, he pulled the lead and signaled the camel to move forward.

His heart, pounding moments ago, slowly settled to a steady beat once again. His gaze stayed fixed forward. And yet…His feelings had not completely disappeared.
Love, responsibility, tradition, and virtue , these held firm, even as heat swelled behind him.
But the girl behind him…
She burned.
She burned with desire, wild and natural. It made her want to rip away her robes and press her bare body against his. It made her want to whisper all the secrets she’d been keeping. To act on all the things she knew lovers did. Things she could never say aloud—not yet , not while shame still clung to her tongue.
Guan Yu would never know that, as she rode behind him, she was pressing herself against the saddle, rubbing lightly atop the colorful cloth. He would never know that what she did brought both release and torment—a secret ritual of longing she didn’t yet have the words to name.
‘If I do that to him… If I give him my body and soul… will he be mine alone?’
‘What should I do? What can I possibly do…?’

Time passed—from late morning to high noon, then into the early evening. The heat slowly gave way to chill, and the travelers agreed to camp for the night on a patch of flat, open earth.
Fortune favored them: a small basin of clear water lay nearby, its pool deep enough for the modest group to bathe and fill their stores for the coming days. It was, in all honesty, a small grace from heaven.
“Father dearest,” Ah-Qing whispered, leaning close, “I’m going for a bath now.”
Hu Bin nodded, smiling gently. With that, she and her maids , carrying towels, linens, and toiletries—headed off in another direction.
Not long after, Guan Yu approached the elder, sitting down at his side. Master Hu glanced at his beloved disciple, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
‘Let’s see what you’ll do now…’ he mused, then spoke aloud:
“Guan Yu, my water pouch is nearly empty. Would you mind filling it for me?”
“Of course, Master. I shall take care of it,” the young man replied, taking the pouch and walking toward the pool—completely unaware that this was, in fact, a test. A silent trial from a master who, in his heart, had already chosen his ideal son-in-law.
‘I trust Guan Yu to be a gentleman. But my daughter… oh, please don’t frighten him, Ah-Qing.’

When the boy arrived at the pool, the corner of his eye caught movement.
There, behind a makeshift screen of tied cloth and wooden poles, shadows danced—soft, flickering shapes under the glow of nearby lanterns.
The silhouettes of five, maybe six girls in various states of bathing could be seen.
But none held his gaze like her shadow. Taller than the rest, though she was only three or four years past girlhood. Her figure was gentle, curving, elegant , neither too thin nor too round. A beauty that was hidden beneath layers of fabric most days, now revealed in the vaguest form.

How would he feel?
Tell me, dear listeners. You who sit around this fire with me, how would you react?
The Official’s Wife: Fall for it! Fall for it, Lord Guan!!!
The Dancer: AHHH~ Don’t just stare—do something!!!
The Wandering Monk and Daoist Hermit: …(silent)
Wandering Warrior: Wait! He mustn’t!
The Official : That’s improper! Deeply improper! (blushing furiously)
But oh…If you thought he would do something…You were wrong.

Everyone around the campfire (except the monks): WHAAAAAT!?
The Daoist Hermit: Guan Yu as a grown man was famed for restraint. As a boy, he was no different. [knowingly smirks]
The Wandering Monk: One who cultivates well controls body, speech, and mind. I believe this firmly. [joins palms in reverence]

Guan Yu looked for only a moment. Then, lowering his eyes, he turned his back and sat quietly behind a large rock.
Placing the water pouch on his lap, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a scroll of bamboo texts, unfurling it slowly to read.
He would wait until Ah-Qing had finished bathing, then go collect water.
He loved her. His heart burned no less than hers…But it was because he loved her that he could not bring himself to harm the flower before it bloomed.
Because a woman… was not a toy, not a dish to be consumed in a moment of craving.
In the heart of this boy surnamed Guan—raised by good parents and devoted to his mother above all , there might have been thoughts like:
“No matter who she is, I’ll treat her like I treat my mother—with care and never cruelty.”
Or perhaps:
“Woman or man, all are beings under the sky. What good would it do to betray their trust?”

And so, in that slowly cooling heart of his, plans began to take root.
‘There’s still silver left at home. But if I can earn a little more… I’ll save it, use it as a dowry to offer Master Hu.’
‘Maybe in a year. Or two. That’s the right way. I’ll marry Ah-Qing then.’
‘After that, I’ll study, prepare for the civil exams. If I can earn an official post… My parents will live in comfort, and Ah-Qing will be the happiest woman alive.’

He smiled to himself, unaware, then returned to his reading.

Ahhh, dear wayfarers…I envy Ah-Qing.
When, oh when, will someone like Guan Yu come into the lonely life of this black cat?
To love me gently, truly, endlessly?
When, I wonder?

Meow…

Chapter Text

Time passed, the caravan traveling from one settlement to another along the way , though I shall not speak further of that.
For one thing, I am too lazy to recount it in detail.
For another, I know that both you and I are far too impatient to see our hero and heroine finally have a proper heart-to-heart.

Now, the people and camels had reached a significant destination — Dunhuang. The last outpost before travelers ventured to lands beyond China, it stood at the crossroads of the many roads that formed the Silk Road, a gateway to a world broader than the horizon anyone had ever known.
Eyes swept over the market stalls and shops lining the stone-and-gravel roads: bolts of fabric in dazzling hues; brass vases and lamps in shapes unfamiliar to the Han lands; and food laced with spices from foreign peoples, whose aromas teased the palate before one even realized it.
While the servants dispersed to browse wares and food after their master’s permission, only one red-faced youth stood guard near his master’s and the master’s daughter’s belongings. Arms folded, gaze steady, he seemed unaffected by the sights, sounds, and smells that delighted the others.
“Guan Yu…”
He turned at the call to find Master Hu Bin smiling warmly, holding out a green-blue glass flask. “Are you tired? Here, drink some water.” Guan Yu accepted without protest, opened it, and drank. The water carried a faint tang — a prick of sourness on the tongue , but it faded within seconds, leaving the plain, clean taste water ought to have.
Time passed. People returned at the appointed late-afternoon hour , all but Ah-Qing and the nannies. Guan Yu’s brows knit; he moved to go fetch them, but his master’s hand stopped him.
“No need. I sent Ah-Qing and the nursemaids to find lodging. Don’t worry.” Hu Bin chuckled, and Guan Yu only nodded slowly, returning to watch the crowd.
But why… Why was his body growing warm? Why did his heartbeat grow strange?
“Must be the sun these past days… perhaps I’m coming down with a fever,” he muttered to himself, shouldering his satchel and following his master and the servants when one nursemaid came running back to announce they’d found an excellent inn.

Inside the inn’s main hall, one side opened into a tavern full of men drinking themselves senseless as beautiful women poured wine for them without pause. The other side bustled with customers eating, drinking, and being massaged by women no less alluring than those in the tavern.
Guan Yu’s heart pounded, his breath coming short. Not from lust for those women — but because his mind, against his will, pieced together an image he had never dared imagine: Ah-Qing, clad in loose, revealing robes, moving with the same intoxicating allure, beckoning him closer.
‘Stop, Guan Yu! This is not the time!’ He clutched his head, gripping his satchel tight as if to anchor himself. ‘Don’t think that way. Don’t act… not yet. Wait.’
Ah, dear listeners , this is what they call a “Mara’s Temptation.” Sometimes it slips in through the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind in the space of a heartbeat. Then the mind shapes it from past affections, making it lovelier, more intoxicating, until one’s heart is in chaos.
He reached the sleeping quarters — a shared room for himself, his master, and the servants. He resolved to lie down and sleep through the night, hoping the strange fever would be gone with the dawn. But oh, if you think he would drift easily into peaceful slumber… think again.

Within a minute of closing his eyes, a jingling sound reached him from somewhere unseen. He tried to open his eyes but felt too heavy-headed, so he let the sound go on… and on… until it stopped right beside him.
A strange, sweet scent might stir most men to pleasant surprise and longing, but not him — for doubt and unease rose to overshadow any desire. The sweetness turned cloying in an instant. And then, when he forced his eyes open…
“Ah-Qing!”
Before he could say more, her slender form in a sheer robe threw itself into his arms, knocking him flat. Guan Yu froze, wide-eyed, feeling for the first time in his life the heat of embarrassment.
“Ah-Qing! Stop!” he barked, trying to push her away ,which only made her cling tighter. Was his breath short from her grip, or from the scent of her skin?
Before he could think further, she lifted her face and did something… a little “terrifying.”
*SMOOCH*
Official / soldier / merchant / Daoist priest : “Aaaaahhh!!!”
Officials’ wives: “Scandalous! Is she trying to devour him alive?!”
Market women: “Noooo! Ah-Qing, why?!”
Guan Yu pushed her away lightly, hand over his mouth, staring at her just a step away. “Ah-Qing! You… you’re a demon!!!”
“A… demon?” Her voice drifted, confused, and a little wounded at being called so by the man she longed for.
“Were you trying to eat me?! What you just did—!”
“No! That’s how one shows love!”
“I… I see… Well, never mind that! Leave, now! If the Master or anyone else sees, it won’t be good for you!”
Of course she didn’t listen. She advanced again, seizing both his wrists as if to pin him in place, eyes glistening with tears.
“I can’t take it anymore, Guan-ge… I’ve had enough. I don’t want to be only the Master’s daughter, or just your little sister. Please, love me. I swear I’ll do anything… anything to make you happy with me.”
The young man went rigid — not from helplessness, but from straining with all his will not to yield to the feeling he feared most: the one that could ruin everything, even her.
“No… Ah-Qing… don’t do this…”
She sobbed, tears splashing onto his face. “I love you! I’ve loved you for so long! I don’t even know when it began — maybe when you saved me from falling out of the pine tree five years ago, or when you stopped those bullies from hurting me… but I love you! Truly! I’ve never meant anything improper!”
His fists clenched until his nails bit into his palms, lips pressed in a hard line. His eyes regained their usual calm.
“You don’t love me?!” she cried hoarsely, pounding her fist against his chest. “Or do you love someone else, so you don’t care for me?! Answer me! Answer!!!”
Silence.
“I’ve had enough! I’m going mad from this love! You think it’s been fun for me to pretend cheerfulness all along the road?! How long will you torture me?!”
Still no reply.
“Do you know how long I’ve suffered from dreams of just you and me? Or is it because you’re a man you can’t understand?!”
She wept and wept, clutching his robe with trembling hands. Her tears streaked her pale face, dimming its glow like the heaviness clouding her small heart.
“Ah-Qing… because I love you.” His voice, after all that silence, was like a single flash of light in the dark.
“I love you. I’ve loved you for so long… so very long.” He paused, sighing, while she slowly drew back to sit apart, eyes never leaving him.
“But because I love you so much… I don’t want to ruin you or cause you to lose your honor.”
The hurt and bitterness melted from her heart. No more tears fell from her large eyes.
“I suffer from the words I cannot say as well,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I can only think that I’m not ready, that I have flaws… that I might be too unworthy for you to love me.”
“Do you really mean that?”
Doubt lingered until his answer came, clear as sunrise.
“Have you ever seen me lie to anyone?”
That night passed without anything more. Yet the next day, Guan Yu and Ah-Qing’s manner toward each other changed enough for others to notice.
No, they were not suddenly as close as lovers — but holding hands, walking nearer than before, and the faint smile (yes, even if it was a calm one) on the red-skinned youth’s face were enough to send the servants into warm-hearted whispers.
And of course, the man who had orchestrated it all — Hu Bin, watching from the hall with a cup of tea , smiled like a victor, the chain of “concern” in his aging heart falling away.
'At last… you are truly worthy of my daughter.'

So, dear listeners, that was the night the young man called Guan Yu won the greatest battle of his life — not against bandits or foes, but against the demon in his own heart. A battle that earned him both the heart of the woman he loved and the trust of her father.
Well then… tell me, have you begun to love them yet?

Chapter Text

Days bled into months, and before long, a new year dawned. On the surface, life in Hedong still flowed as serenely as ever ,but in truth, that was far from the case.
“What? The young master Guan is getting married?!”
“I heard that Master Qizhong has agreed to give his only daughter to him outright!”
“Well, the two families are of equal standing, and both the bride and groom are equally striking in looks—truly a match made in heaven”
My dear listeners, allow me to refresh your memory once more. Do you still recall the name of the scoundrel lurking in this very city? Come now—indulge this black cat and answer me!
Everyone: “Lü Xiong! The magistrate’s son, of course!”
Ha! Ha! Clever, very clever! Such remarkable memories you all have—truly worth all the times we’ve shared in this storytelling circle.
Market woman: “What? Lü Xiong…? Oh no!”
Merchant: “If he so much as tries to lay a hand on Young Master Guan or Ah-Qing…!” (He springs to his feet, throwing a few punches into the air.)
You’re not wrong, good sir. But do not fret… Something truly dire won’t happen just yet. Still, what is about to occur will be just as bad… and no less vile.
It is said that ever since the reign of Emperor Wu of Han, the city of Hedong has been famed for its abundant salt wells. The state appointed officials to oversee the collection, transport, and trade of salt from Hedong to other cities, and even now, that system remains in place. However, in the waning years of the Eastern Han : a time steeped in corruption—Dong Zhuo, who had once served as prefect of Hedong and later as governor of Bingzhou, seized the opportunity to consolidate his power. He built a network of corrupt officials and private salt merchants in the region…
Wandering warrior: “Wait—don’t tell me…!”
That’s right. One of those crooked salt merchants was none other than Lü Xiong, the magistrate’s son—once a disciple of Hu Bin and a troublemaker who had crossed paths with Guan Yu and Ah-Qing in earlier days.
Let me preface this once more: Lü Xiong was a spoiled, unruly man, coddled by his father to the point of ruin. Though well-educated, the only lessons he seemed to have taken to heart were the tricks and schemes of exploitation—much like his father, a magistrate infamous for squeezing every last drop from the people of Hedong.
Now twenty-four or so, his added years had done nothing to sharpen his judgment in any virtuous direction.
“So damned slow! Hurry up and load it!” the magistrate’s son barked at the porters hauling sacks of salt from the storehouse to the waiting carts, his posture dripping with the arrogance of unchecked authority.
“Brother… aren’t you only taking the tailings to sell to the common folk? Why bother loading the good salt too?” one of his men asked.
Lü Xiong laughed. “The good stuff goes to the households of officials and the well-to-do! Double the profit, no loss at all!”
Just then another lackey came running into the salt storehouse.
“Brother Lü! Brother! We’ve got a situation!”
Lü Xiong turned lazily to look at him. “What is it?”
“You haven’t heard the news going around town? That red-faced bastard—he’s engaged to Master’s daughter! The ceremony’s in just a few days!”
“…What did you say?!”
Some time later, Lü Xiong sat hunched on a couch in his family residence, knees drawn up, teeth grinding audibly. His eyes were bloodshot, brimming with unshed tears—not from sorrow, but from rage. Rage that the man he envied and despised, the man he had once mocked as a fool from a gentry family on the verge of ruin—Guan Yu—was about to win the heart of the young woman he both desired and wished to subdue: Ah-Qing.
“Son, there’s nothing for you to be upset about,” his father, the magistrate, said in an attempt to console him. “What’s so special about a girl with Hu blood? My son is far more suitable for an official’s or a wealthy merchant’s daughter.”
Lü Xiong burst out, “You don’t understand, Father! It’s true that Ah-Qing’s family has foreign blood, but they’re wealthy! Quiet as they seem, they’ve got land, servants, and property to match ours!”
“Then wait until you have a principal wife, son. Once you do, I won’t object if you take her as a concubine.”
“No! I won’t have it! She must be my principal wife—my principal wife alone!!!”
With that, Lü Xiong threw himself onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow, sobbing like a child denied a coveted toy.
Monk: “The wise desire a son superior to themselves, or at least their equal… but not an inferior one who destroys the family.” (His expression is calm, his eyes heavy with resignation.)
Official : “And yet, it seems this household has gone and raised a family-destroyer, Master…” (He shakes his head slowly.)

And what of our hero and heroine, you ask? How were they faring? Very well—allow me to tell you. (The audience roars with cheers, save for the monk and the Daoist priest, who merely smile faintly.)
“Father, I told you I could just wear your old red wedding robe…” Nineteen-year-old Guan Yu looked uneasy at the sight of the brand-new crimson garment his father had spent a tidy sum commissioning from a tailor—though he knew full well the gift had been given out of love.
“That old robe isn’t as soft as when I married your mother, and the color’s faded,” his father grumbled, though the smile never left his face. “Take the new one, Xiao Yu—it’s better this way.”
“But…” the young man began, only for his mother, entering the room, to cut him off.
“Do as your father says, son. Don’t worry—we still have more than enough money.”
Guan Yu gazed at the red robe in the chest, sighed, and closed the lid. Yes, his was a gentry family, with wealth, land, and servants inherited from their forebears. Yet he knew… their prosperity was slowly ebbing away.
Perhaps Heaven is toying with fate, he mused, or perhaps some debt from a former life dogs me still. Then he lifted his chin. No matter. Once the wedding is over, I’ll work to earn enough to help the family—and dedicate myself fully to preparing for the examinations.
Over at the Hu residence, fourteen-year-old Ah-Qing was smiling at her reflection in a polished bronze mirror, surrounded on all sides by her nannies and maids.
“Our young lady grows lovelier by the day—it gladdens my heart!” one nanny said brightly.
Another, more sentimental, sniffled in the way of one long familiar. “But… once you marry, we’ll never see you again.”
Ah-Qing turned, her eyes as bright as the moon in the night sky. “Have you forgotten, sisters, that Father’s house and Guan-ge’s are both here in Hedong? It’s only half a day’s journey between them—hardly an obstacle.”
“But, young mistress… once a wife enters her husband’s household, it’s not customary for her to visit her family often,” one maid ventured.
“Oh, you!” Ah-Qing gave a playful glance. “I’ve already asked Father. He and Guan-ge’s parents agreed there’d be no objection if we were to go back and forth between the Hu and Guan households. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Laughter from Master Hu’s daughter and her attendants filled the bedchamber like birdsong in a spring forest—a room preparing not for a wedding born of wealth or ambition, but for one born of affection and kinship, nurtured since childhood, which had drawn these two hearts together to this very moment.

Time flowed on until at last came the day when the bride would be sent to the groom’s household.
At the Guan residence, there was one man who could barely contain the excitement within him—though his bearing and expression remained calm throughout.
“I can do this. Tonight, nothing will go wrong,” Guan Yu murmured, drawing a deep breath as he gazed at his reflection in the bronze mirror… the reflection of a young man clad in crimson as deep as a bird’s-blood stone.
But as the candlelight wavered, his breath caught…For in the mirror, the image staring back was no longer his own, but a headless figure, like that of a condemned man awaiting execution!
“What—!”
When his senses returned, the reflection was as it had been. Guan Yu rubbed his eyes once, twice, thrice, until he was sure the vision was gone, and exhaled in relief.
“Must’ve been a trick of the eyes…” he muttered.
“Young master!” A voice called from outside, prompting him to glance toward the door, still firmly shut.
“What is it, Nanny?”
“In just a few short hours, the bridal procession will arrive at the residence. I came to inform you, sir.”
Guan Yu merely replied, “Mm.” Then he brushed off his sleeves to chase away any dust, checked the mirror once more to make sure his hair and attire were in order, and finally opened the door. He stepped out to the front courtyard, where his father, mother, household retainers, and the Daoist ritual masters had long been waiting.
“Your son is always like this, isn’t he? Keeps to himself, doesn’t talk much,” one guest remarked to Guan Yu’s father.
“I think that’s fine,” his father chuckled softly. “Let him save his words for me, his mother, and those he feels comfortable with.”
“Or perhaps your Changsheng here is keeping quiet because he’s shy around the bride, eh? Ha ha!” another guest teased, their tone full of fondness for the groom.
Standing not far away, the groom clenched and unclenched his fists, lowering his gaze to the ground to avoid the eyes of family and friends gathered for the joyous occasion.
Changsheng… the first courtesy name bestowed upon Guan Yu, given long before another courtesy name that I shall keep to myself for now. The one who bestowed it was none other than Master Hu Bin—his teacher, and soon-to-be father-in-law—on the day their traveling party returned to Hedong.
“I will give it to you now. But when you turn nineteen, at your capping ceremony, you may begin to use it.”
“Master…”
Guan Yu closed his eyes, recalling the moment, a faint smile unconsciously curving his lips. The next words his teacher spoke still echoed vividly in his mind:
“And… congratulations. You’ve passed the test of becoming my son-in-law. Heh-heh.”
‘Strange man' Guan Yu thought to himself 'But… I have no regrets at all in becoming your student.’

Just then, the beat of drums and the clash of cymbals from beyond the residence wall made him lift his head. His gaze went to the still-closed gate, his heart trembling more than bamboo leaves caught in a sudden gust. One hand clenched at the hem of his crimson robe without his realizing it, the excitement within him nearly spilling over.
The bridal procession moved along Hedong’s main street, the sound of drums, cymbals, and flutes weaving into an auspicious melody. Crowds pressed in along both sides; children scampered after the procession with shrill, gleeful cries, and parents and grandparents hurried to pull them back, fearing the little ones might dart in the way.
The Guan family gates swung open as the wooden bridal palanquin was set down. Nursemaids and maids came to stand beside it; the silk curtain was drawn aside, and from within stepped the one all had come to see.
From this evening forth, there would no longer be a girl called Ah-Qing—only Hu Qingyue, the radiant bride about to enter her wedding rites. Her oval face was touched with rouge and cosmetics, her hair drawn up and bound into an elegant knot, pinned with a gold hair ornament that flashed under the lamplight. Most striking of all was the long scarlet gown embroidered in gilt thread, its patterns gleaming with the richness befitting her station.
“Aiyoh! Beautiful—truly beautiful!”
“The young master is fortunate indeed, to take as his bride a woman blessed with both beauty and fortune!”
“May they love each other until old age! May their days be long and prosperous!”
The groom’s heart pounded until it ached; his face, already flushed, deepened in color. Guan Yu’s breath caught as she stepped through the gate. He noticed nothing of the procession, nothing of the jubilant crowd—everything dimmed the instant Hu Qingyue entered, like the moon’s brilliance outshining the faint light of stars on a full-moon night.
The bride’s heart, too, beat just as fiercely, though her breathing remained steady and her demeanor preserved the modest grace befitting a lady on her wedding day. When her gaze lifted to where Changsheng stood waiting, her eyes seemed lit with hundreds, thousands of stars. Heat rose to her cheeks in the instant their eyes met, and in that moment the whole world fell silent , leaving only the sound of two hearts beating in time. Each looked away, as though afraid the other might glimpse the feelings surging too strongly to be concealed.

Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop!
“Stop! Hold it right there! Call off the ceremony at once!!!”
The peace and beauty of the joyous occasion seemed to be snuffed out in an instant as a man swung down from his horse, followed by a roar of murmurs louder than a swarm of bees breaking from their hive. For the uninvited guest was none other than—
“That’s Lü Xiong, the magistrate’s son!”
“What’s he doing here?! This can’t be good—oof—”
“You fool! Do you want to be flogged? That’s the kin of an influential man!”
Unease and fear rippled through the crowd as the sound of more hoofbeats followed. Four or five brawny men, clearly Lü Xiong’s underlings, strode into the courtyard. The chatter shifted into hushed whispers, as though anyone speaking the wrong word might not escape a beating.
Hu Bin, standing beside his daughter, felt his heart quail but forced a smile. He nudged Hu Qingyue toward her nursemaids, urging her to go on ahead, then turned to address his former student with practiced cordiality.
“Ah… have you come to offer congratulations to your junior? My apologies for not inviting you—don’t be angry enough to demand the ceremony be stopped.”
“No.”
With that single word, Lü Xiong strode past his teacher and seized the arm of the young woman in red. The reaction of the guests turned at once to alarm and outrage.
“Shameless brute! What man of sense would try to drag away another man’s bride?!” an elderly gentleman shouted, jabbing a finger in fury at such lawless behavior.
“Yes, that’s right! Let go of the young lady this instant, you wretched boy!!!” a middle-aged woman cried, hands on hips, her anger boiling over at the man who dared disrupt the young bride’s wedding day.
Chaos broke out almost instantly. The magistrate’s son’s men began throwing punches at the guests and smashing cups, bowls, and serving dishes. The shattering of porcelain and wine jars mixed with the screams of the crowd, replacing the festive music of the wedding.
Lü Xiong dragged Hu Qingyue along the path. Hu Bin, the maids, and the servants tried to seize and hold her back, but he shoved them all aside without a shred of care.
“Please! Don’t take my child! Don’t take the jewel of my heart!!!” Hu Bin’s cry tore from him, his voice breaking, tears streaming down the furrows of his aging face as servants rushed to steady him.
The blood in Changsheng’s veins, cold only moments ago, grew hot—boiling like oil set over a raging fire. His hand clenched tightly around the sword at his waist before he strode forward, step after deliberate step, into the heart of the chaos.
It was not jealousy.
It was not possessiveness.
He simply would not see her harmed again—not like that time, when he had grabbed her by the wrist and tried to drag her out of their teacher’s house.
And yet… It was strange. Lü Xiong was already nearly at the gates of the Guan residence with her in tow—yet Hu Qingyue made no cry for help, though her movements seemed forced and stiff.
“A year ago you still had the strength to resist me,” he laughed in his throat like a predator hauling its prey back to its lair. “Why is it that today you go so willingly, Ah-Qing? Has the Han blood in you drowned out all the proud defiance of the western lands? Tell me.”
Just as they stopped to hoist Ah-Qing onto the horse, in the instant his hand reached for her pale cheek, she did something no one had anticipated—not even Changsheng, who was nearly upon them, stopped short when it happened.

Pffft!

“Agh! You mad bitch! What do you think you’re doing?!” Lü Xiong recoiled, wiping at the spittle she had just flung at him, his face twisting in disgust. Around them, the onlookers’ reactions brimmed with a mix of shock and glee.
“Young Miss!!!”
“Ha! Ha! Serves him right!”
“Slap him, mistress! I’m still not satisfied yet!”
“Oh, gladly!” The bride’s smile split wide, her rouge-painted lips now like a bloodied demon’s grin. She raised her right hand and struck—her palm landing on his left cheek and grazing the base of his ear, sending Lü Xiong sprawling to the ground.
Cheers and laughter erupted at once. No one minded the breach of ladylike decorum; for the likes of him, the entire crowd was united in granting her such license.
‘Heaven and Earth bear witness… I will never make her angry!’ Changsheng thought in stunned awe.
‘But… it’s for the best. Now no one will dare lay a hand on her again.’
Hu Qingyue lifted her chin like a queen, one hand on her hip as she looked down with utter contempt at the man ten years her senior—heedless of the sound of footsteps striking stone and the four or five young thugs who came running out.
“Ah-Qing! You’ve gone too far!!!” one of them shouted, raising a stick to strike her down—only to cry out in pain the next instant as the groom’s elbow landed, not too hard, at the back of his neck.
Hu Qingyue drew in a deep breath, then unleashed the words of scorn she had long kept bottled inside, her voice ringing with fury.
“You are crude, base men—shameless! What woman would take interest in the likes of you, save for the courtesans who flatter and fawn only to bleed you dry? Hear me well! Guan-ge is the man I have chosen, and the elders have given their full consent for us to be wed in proper form!”
The words “the man I have chosen” struck the magistrate’s son like a mortal blow—far worse than her spit or her slap.
“And by ruining my wedding, you have not only spoiled the auspicious hour and forced the geomancers to seek a new date, but also caused the needless waste of money for an entire second celebration! So take responsibility!”
“Xiao Yu… son, are you all right?” his mother asked, glancing at her future daughter-in-law with a trace of apprehension—though, deep inside, she could not help but admire the young woman’s courage, fiercer than many a man’s.
Changsheng’s lips curved in a faint smile, a touch of color rising in his cheeks as he took his mother’s hand and replied, “I’m fine, Mother.”
And in his eyes shone a quiet, steady warmth, as if he already knew— from this day forward, no one would ever dare lay a hand on his Ah-Qing again.

Chapter Text

Since the wedding of Guan Changsheng and Hu Qingyue, the early days of their married life had been smooth, without any obstacles to the joys naturally shared between a newly wedded man and woman.
Servants , whether from the Guan household or the Hu household—were only too eager to confirm the couple’s close bond through gossip:
“On their wedding night alone, the young master and the young miss didn’t leave the bridal chamber for three whole days and nights! Heaven help us, I’d rather not imagine it!”
“And when they visit the young miss’ old home, it’s the same thing! The young master always disappears into her room for the entire day—sometimes more! Hee hee!”
Sometimes, such as after bathing, the maids would blush furiously at the sight of their young lady’s snow-white skin covered with mottled red marks, not from beatings, but from something they dared not say aloud…
As for the young master himself, there seemed to be nothing amiss—except for the time his wet nurse scolded:
“Oh, heavens! Which cat scratched your arm, young master? If I catch it, I’ll break its back!”
At that, Changsheng nearly choked and coughed several times.
‘Wet nurse… it wasn’t a cat… it was my wife scratching my arm when we were… um…’
He could only cover his face at the thought. It reminded him of the sun hiding shyly behind the clouds until its blinding light dimmed—utterly laughable, really.

If you are wondering how they felt once they truly became husband and wife… Well, how should I put it? I am but an unmarried cat who has never had anyone stir my heart into disarray yet!—but very well, I shall try my best to tell it!
On the first night of marriage, whatever happened between the young man and the young woman was driven by the deep, instinctive urges of all living creatures. Even without anyone to teach them, and without more than a cursory reading of any book, Changsheng and Hu Qingyue allowed their bodies and hearts to move under the pull of their own desires.
For Hu Qingyue, what she experienced while lying beside her Guan-ge was strange and daunting all at once. She remembered screaming, writhing, and feeling a faint sting of pain from sensations she had never known before. Yet, when she saw that her husband was gentle—earnestly trying not to hurt her , the fear transformed into something else, something she knew to be happiness.
Not the kind of happiness that comes merely from lying together to pass the night, but a happiness that two people give each other: the happiness of being loved… a love that sanctifies desire and unites the hearts of man and woman into one for all time.
As for the young man of the Guan clan, whatever awkwardness he had as a newcomer to love melted away after the wedding night. Changsheng could not tell when he had grown addicted to his Ah-Qing’s embrace and kisses , only that they felt right. They were things a husband and wife did together, things that brought joy to both the giver and the receiver. And so it was with all that they did as man and wife: things Changsheng had learned and felt for himself, taught by no one but his own heart and mind.

One thing Changsheng had always believed was that he did not live merely to “love,” but to take care of his wife , the woman who would be with him until their last breath in this world. Therefore, as a man who had a father, a mother, a master (who was also his father-in-law), and a wife, he must do something to secure a stable life for the future.
Changsheng possessed a strength of body that was a little greater than that of the average man. And although he often struggled to understand the twists and turns of human thinking , which is more winding than the Yellow River in flood season—he was by no means lacking in intelligence. Thus, whether it was work that required physical labor, such as carrying heavy loads or tending the fields, or work that called for mental effort, such as helping his master keep records of trade profits, he never refused in the slightest. So long as it brought income he could save and preserve as capital for the days ahead, it was enough.
As for Hu Qingyue, she fulfilled the duties of a wife as well as any woman of her time could. On the days it was her turn to cook for the Guan household—including all the servants , she would rise earlier than her husband. She enjoyed doing household chores herself, such as sweeping and dusting, to the point that the servants sometimes worried over her. And whenever her father sent medicinal ingredients, Qingyue would prepare them into remedies for her aging parents-in-law, whose health inevitably waned with the passing years.
At times, she herself would take out the study books her father had entrusted to her and hand them to Changsheng, so he could review them in preparation for the imperial civil service exams—whenever the government might announce them. On such nights, Qingyue knew that she and her husband would have to forgo any youthful amusements in bed. Even if she secretly felt a pang of frustration, she would quell it with the thought:
“Never mind, Ah-Qing. Let Guan-ge have his rest. His flushed cheeks will pale again one day!”

Since the daughter-in-law from the Hu family had been a Buddhist from an early age, even if she did not show it openly at the time, all her actions remained in accordance with the precepts and the Dharma. What she had believed in as a child : the burning torment born of unwholesome deeds, and the serene fruits of wholesome ones—she still held true to now.
This was reflected in the unease she felt on a day when she was in charge of the kitchen and came upon the sight of a cook striking a fish’s head with a hammer—thunk, thunk , and the squeals of a pig just before its slaughter.
The feeling of sin clung to her heart, more chilling than seeing ghosts or even the real hells themselves. That night, she dreamt of the fish and the pig killed to feed the household. In the days that followed, she asked her father-in-law to have the butchering done far from the kitchen, away from her sight. Only then could she feel even a measure of relief.
Aside from this, Hu Qingyue was a woman of generosity, never carrying herself like a willful mistress toward the servants in her husband’s household. If there was food or sweets, she would often set aside a portion for the children of the retainers. She treated outsiders no differently—especially the poor and destitute, for whom she felt pity and fondness, seeing them as having far less than she did.
“Xiao Qing, is it really alright to do this?” her mother-in-law asked with concern, as her daughter-in-law handed a sum of money along with a bundle of rice to a beggar woman and her child in the marketplace.
“They have less than we do, so let them have it,” Qingyue replied, smiling like one who felt no regret in giving alms.

For this reason, in later times when the household’s resources grew strained, Hu Qingyue would often murmur to herself:
“What deeds might Guan-ge or I have done to someone in the past, that we should now face such hardship?”

You may have long wondered—what could have brought the Guan family of Hedong to such decline, nearly to the point of poverty? Ah, dear reader, in times of decay, war was soon to erupt, and the imperial court and the state had fallen into corruption. What hope could there be for “security” or “everlasting stability,” things which in truth do not exist?
The causes of their hardship lay in three points.
First: the family’s wealth had already begun to dwindle since the time of Changsheng’s grandfather.
Second: Changsheng’s parents had devoted much of their remaining resources to securing the best tutors to educate him in his youth, and to supporting him with living expenses during the four or five years he resided in Master Hu Bin’s household.
And third: the money used to support their son had, in part, been borrowed.
Guan Changsheng and Hu Qingyue would both remember it well—the morning filled with nothing but sorrow among the household’s servants and maids. For that was the day the master of the house decided to grant them “freedom” from their status as slaves and bonded retainers.
To be free was, in principle, a good thing. Yet for those who had lived, eaten, and slept under the roof of masters as virtuous as theirs—masters who spoke and acted toward them as friends rather than as beasts of burden to be driven with cruelty like so many other slaveholders—what benefit could freedom truly bring?
“Master! Please! Don’t abandon us!”
“My lady! Where would we go? I was born and raised in this household since the days of your son’s grandparents… we know no safer place than here!”
“Young master! Please speak to your father!” cried Changsheng’s wet nurse, rushing forward to clutch his leg. Her round face was wet with tears. “Please… I have raised you since you were but a babe, loving you as much as my own children. If I leave… I may never see you again!”
As the days passed… and passed again…
The people of the Guan household slowly departed, one by one, like mirages fading in the late morning sun, like wisps of mist scattering at the touch of a hand. No matter how they pleaded, they could not go against the will of their master.
In the end, only the wet nurse remained, for Changsheng’s parents allowed her to stay out of regard for the bond they shared.

Of course, dear listener, news of the Guan family’s downfall spread like wildfire—and it reached the ears of the one we despise most of all: that son of the magistrate.
“Serves him right! That red-faced bastard’s become a ruined noble at last!” Lü Xiong laughed aloud, raising his cup of wine as though celebrating victory on the battlefield of ego.
“I’ve got an idea, boss. How about we spread a little rumor?” one of his lackeys suggested with obsequious glee.
“What kind of rumor?”
“Oh, nothing hard. Just say that his wife—Ah-Qing—is a jinx. The moment she married into her husband’s house started falling into misfortune!”

Dancer: “The most vile! That bastard!!!”
Official’s wife: “Aaaargh! I want to slap him right now!!!”
Woman from Dayuan: “A slap won’t be enough—trample him!”
Merchants: “Agreed! The man deserves no good end!!!”
Oh, my dear audience! Please, calm your hearts. The wicked will one day receive their due karma, while those who are virtuous and true to their word—though they may suffer pain brought by past karma or malicious slander—will never truly fall because of the tongues of a few base-minded people.
When the rumor of the “inauspicious daughter-in-law of the Guan family” spread far and wide, the neighbors divided into two camps: those who did not believe it, having already seen the pure-hearted kindness of Hu Qingyue, and those who swallowed it whole out of superstition without pausing to seek the truth.
“Young Miss is an inauspicious ones? Impossible! She’s one of the kindest people there is!”
“The Guan family’s decline must have begun back in the days of the young master’s grandparents. Whoever spread this is nothing but a slanderous fool!”
“But didn’t you notice? The Guan family fell into ruin within just a few months after the wedding between the young master and Elder Hu Qizhong’s daughter!”
“Exactly! If that’s not a jinx, then what is?!”
At first, Hu Qingyue paid the rumors no mind. She and her father had long grown used to being treated with disdain by certain Han Chinese who saw them as outsiders. She had already resigned herself to the fact that gossip was as ordinary a thing in this world as the decline of wealth and status—just as her husband’s family was now experiencing. Thinking thus, she set aside the chatter of others and focused her mind on matters more important, so as not to let herself grow distracted.
But, dear listener, such is the way of ordinary mortals who have yet to taste the nectar of immortality: when the heart is struck again and again by unkindness, it is no wonder that Qingyue began to feel pain at the malicious slander. It was not only the hurt of being verbally attacked—it was that she no longer wished to remain in her husband’s household at all.
“Ah-Qing, don’t go,” Changsheng said. It seemed like a simple plea, but it could not hide the deeper meaning: Ah-Qing, don’t leave me.
“Xiao Qing, you once told me that the words of a few cannot destroy our hearts. Why, then, do you let them gnaw at yours?” her father-in-law asked.
“Xiao Qing, don’t leave your father and mother. We love you as much as we love Xiao Yu. If you go, who will keep us company?” her mother-in-law sobbed, her body trembling.
Even so, Qingyue insisted on living apart from her husband for a time, returning to her father’s house until her wounds could heal and the rumors begin to fade. Though it pained her to part from the man she loved, she thought it better to let time serve both as the wind that would carry away the words of others, and as the balm that would mend the hearts of two people shaken by this uncertain world.
But it seemed… that fate and love had yet to loosen their grip on the intertwined lives of this story’s hero and heroine.

That morning, Hu Qingyue was about to leave the household to meet the attendants and servants who would escort her back to her father’s home. At that moment, someone she knew well—whom she had met in her youth—approached and called out:
“Laywoman, do you remember me?”
“Master Pujing!” She dropped to her knees, bowing before the monk, tears streaming down her cheeks like a child reunited with a long-lost relative she had never expected to see again.
“Laywoman, why are you standing outside your husband’s house?”
“Reverend Master, I am returning to my old home.”
“For what reason? Has your husband or his family driven you away?”
“Not at all. I chose to leave my husband’s household because I could no longer bear to see them slandered on my account.”
“And what, exactly, do the people slander you for?”
“They believe I am a jinx—that I brought misfortune upon my husband’s family,” the young woman replied, lowering her head and wiping at her tears, as though not wishing anyone to see her pitiful state.
Master Pujing was silent for a moment, until all that could be heard was Qingyue’s sobbing. Then he asked again:
“Is that all?”
“That is all, Reverend Master.”
The elderly monk’s lips curved into a gentle smile for the young woman before him. Then he spoke a single, short sentence—yet it was like the spark that rekindles a lamp about to go out, like the force that drives the moon to break through clouds and shine once more in the night sky:
“If that is all, then don’t go. Stay here. A woman of virtue should not be troubled.”

When the wandering monk departed, and after she had waved off the maids from her father’s household telling them to wait, Hu Qingyue returned to the Guan residence with a heart light and buoyant as foam upon water. She bowed respectfully to her parents-in-law, then hurried straight to her husband, Changsheng, embracing him with love and recounting with deep emotion her conversation with Master Pujing.
Changsheng smiled faintly, drawing her into his arms and stroking her head with affection as he said:
“Ah-Qing, whether you chose to go stay at Master's house, neither I nor Father and Mother would ever force you or object. If you are uneasy, we would wait for you to stay there until the rumors fade and your heart is at peace. But if you choose to remain here, we would be most glad.”
Qingyue nestled her face against the chest of the man who was the very treasure of her life, and replied softly:
“It was I… thinking short-sightedly, letting fear cloud my reason. If my husband and his family were in distress, and I left you, would that not mean abandoning you and Father and Mother to hardship?”
She lifted her gaze to his, their eyes meeting as if to look deep into the very depths of each other’s hearts—a depth deeper than the ocean or the boundless universe without beginning or end.
At that same moment, the hands of these two—man and woman, of different clans and different blood—intertwined, sealing a tacit vow to share in each other’s life through both joy and hardship, for as long as heaven and earth endure.
“To share joy…”
“…To withstand sorrow.”
From that day forth, no matter what came, no matter if circumstances forced their bodies apart, the bond between their hearts—rooted deep since their youth—would never be severed.
And not long after… Within a year, Hu Qingyue came to know that something was growing within her—a life that fate had entrusted them to protect, cherish, and raise as the most precious treasure of their lives.
A living being called… a child.

Chapter Text

It is said that there exists a hell known as Putta… The realm reserved for those without descendants to carry on their lineage. There, men and women cry out in longing, shedding endless tears, for no offerings are ever made to them in the world of spirits. In that place, the flames of loneliness and desolation burn without cease.

This silly black cat does not know whether such a hell truly exists. But what it does know for certain is this: the truest hell lies in the burning hearts of husband and wife who remain without a child… A child who is like the golden cord binding their married lives, the one whose birth completes the household, who ensures that the family line does not vanish, and who ultimately becomes the support in the twilight of their years.

Thus, the ancients called a child the one who destroys the hell of Putta—the one who fills the hollow heart of father and mother to the brim.

In the days when people still lived close to nature, unspoiled by the fleeting glamour of great cities and the illusions of a world that never lasts, even the smallest of children knew a simple truth: when the rain falls, the rice seedlings will sprout. Such was the essence of life, well understood by both Changsheng and Hu Qingyue. Countless other examples stood before them, inviting one to compare, to recall, to turn the mind back toward the human way.

Changsheng remembered clearly: his wife had conceived during the season when they first began planting the fields. Months before, heavy rains had poured down without pause. Sometimes he could not help but think—was this not why the elders of old compared Heaven to the male? Heaven shed its seed as the rain, falling into the soil so that the earth might yield forth its abundance.

There was another memory. Once, while hired to watch over a herd of cattle, he had seen a bull and a cow nuzzling each other in quiet affection. When he returned months later for work, he found that same young cow now trailed by a calf whose coat bore the same hue as the bull he had seen. From that moment, Changsheng understood exactly how the world continued.

Whenever his mind pictured the bull, the cow, and the calf, the image would loop back to that night when soft rain fell outside, and the atmosphere drew him and Hu Qingyue together in the act that all men and women share. The memory was enough to send his heart racing once again.

“Shall we have a child?” she had asked him then, eyes wide and clear.

“You,” he blurted out without thinking, “do you want one, or not?”

She smiled. “If I did not, would I have asked you, hm? And you—you would truly be a father to my child, would you not?”

Each time he recalled that moment, the young man of the Guan clan flushed red all over again, so hot he had to cover his face with his hands, saying nothing at all.

As for Hu Qingyue, she had always loved gazing upon the forests, the hills, and the wild places since she was a child. She loved to watch animals and plants alike. She had once seen a mother fish in the flooded paddies, swimming about with five or six tiny fish following closely at her tail. She had seen a hen teaching her chicks to scratch the soil for food, or gathering them under her wings when a crow or hawk circled overhead. Whenever she turned back to look at herself, a human supposedly blessed with reason and nobility, the thought would often dissolve into humility—how pale seemed humankind’s claims to wisdom when compared with the pure devotion of a mother toward her young, even among the so-called beasts.

When she first conceived (at that time, neither her husband nor her parents-in-law knew of it), she counted it a blessing that she did not suffer morning sickness. What aroused her suspicion was simply that her menses had ceased for longer than usual. Examining herself, she noticed that here and there her body had begun to swell, that certain parts had darkened. When she pressed her hand to her belly, she nearly gasped—for it seemed there was a small lump within, pulsing faintly.

“I shall not tell Brother Guan or his parents just yet… I am still uncertain,” she resolved, quickly clothing herself properly before slipping out of the room. Half walking, half running, she went to find her husband’s old wet-nurse, whispering in a hushed voice:

“Auntie, I beg you, help me with a matter.”

“Just say the word, young mistress. This servant will do it—no complaints.”

“Please go and summon my father to my house.”

Now, dear listeners… have you not forgotten, have you, that this elder Hu Bin, besides being a learned master, was also one of the most skilled physicians of the late Han era?

(Everyone in the storytelling circle: “Of course we haven’t forgotten!”)

Not half a day later, a cart drawn by two mules came to a stop at the weather-worn gates of the Guan household. Elder Hu Bin himself stepped down, followed by two or three attendants and a great wooden chest crammed full of medicines he had brought from his own estate.

“Oh… it seems I’ve not brought only medicines to leave with this household,” the old man muttered to himself. “And look at me—I forgot to bring any money along. Tomorrow, I shall leave some silver for Ah-Qing.”

And why, you may wonder, did Hu Bin say this? The answer is as easy as a monkey peeling a banana. For in these days, the Hu family was far more prosperous than the Guan family. Hu Bin had long been aware of this ever since he had taken in that lanky fourteen-year-old surnamed Guan, the boy who had yet no courtesy name like Changsheng. He knew well that the boy’s father—his own comrade of bygone days, a gentleman of scholarly lineage was slipping further and further into poverty.

No sooner had Master and father-in-law set foot inside the Guan household than Changsheng, who had been dutifully massaging his own father’s shoulders, nearly dropped his heart straight down to his ankles. He hurriedly withdrew his hands, dashed over, and snatched away the satchel slung across Hu Bin’s shoulder, at once moving to support him.

“Master! Why did you not send word before coming to visit your disciple?”

“Ah, Guan Yu… I did not wish to trouble you,” Hu Bin replied, chuckling softly.

The young man, who was both disciple and son-in-law, could only pull a face—a mix of confusion and faint annoyance at not having prepared anything to properly receive his teacher.

Hu Bin turned his gaze toward his old comrade, smiling warmly as he greeted him: “Guan Yi [1] ,my friend…You and your wife—are you both still in good health?”

“Hu Bin, old friend… My wife and I are as well as two aging folk can be,” replied the father of Changsheng—whose name, at last, is now revealed to us—with a gentle smile of his own.

While the two old friends were exchanging smiles, the young man Changsheng could only blink innocently, unwilling to interrupt. Just then, all three men turned their heads in unison as two women approached. One was the elder lady—the wife of Guan Yi and mother of Changsheng. The other, of course, was none other than Hu Qingyue, the lovely daughter-in-law who bore within her a secret soon to be revealed.

“Elder brothers, Ah-Qing has something to share,” the elder woman announced. She then nodded toward her daughter-in-law, who in turn nodded back, stepped quickly to her father’s side, and sat beside him. Cupping her hand to her mouth, she whispered softly, telling him what only she knew—though even she was not fully certain.

Changsheng, standing not far off, could only furrow his brows in simple confusion at words he could not catch. It was only when his father-in-law placed his hand upon his beloved daughter’s wrist that the truth finally emerged.

“Oh! Marvelous indeed!” Hu Bin exclaimed with joy. “I feel two heartbeats overlapping one another!” He turned to his old comrade, to his comrade’s wife, and to his son-in-law, eyes gleaming. “She is with child! My daughter truly carries life within her!”

At that very moment… Changsheng realized that he was about to have a child with the woman he so dearly loved. (And so, dear listeners, is it any wonder he later blushed whenever he remembered the bull, the cow, and the calf—as I have already told you at the beginning?)

From that day on, whatever duties Hu Qingyue was supposed to take on as wife and daughter-in-law—whether household chores or attending to her husband’s parents…were almost always whisked away by her husband or by his old wet-nurse, who insisted on doing them in her stead. Yet, being only fifteen, going on sixteen, Qingyue stubbornly fought to seize those tasks back again, leaving both Changsheng and the wet-nurse shaking their heads at her obstinacy.

“I’m not about to become a midwife anytime soon! But any woman who keeps herself busy with household work, never idling about, will always have an easy birth!” That was her excuse… Whenever her husband tried to stop her from sweeping the floor.

Now, you may wonder: in such a time, when the Guan household was sinking into poverty, how could the news of a child be a blessing? Wasn’t it already a burden enough to provide for two elderly parents, to meet the daily costs of food and living? Wouldn’t the arrival of a baby only make the hardship worse?

Ah, dear friends! The power of Lady Śrī Devī [2] had not forsaken our hero and heroine!

From the day it became known that Hu Qingyue was with child, her father Hu Bin came and went without fail, often staying over at his old comrade’s household. And whenever Hu Bin stepped through the Guan threshold, it was a certainty that more than medicine and nourishing food would follow.

“Hu Bin, you need not give us money,” Guan Yi protested, lifting a hand in refusal as his friend pressed a red bundle filled with gold into his grasp. His brows furrowed, and his lips drew tight into a straight line.

“How could I not? Back in our student days, you even treated me to meals! What is this, compared to that?” Hu Bin replied heartily. Then, turning toward his son-in-law, he nodded. Changsheng could only bow his head in silence and accept the red bundle, unable to resist further.

In the past, it had been Hu Qingyue who was the subject of gossip. This time, it was Changsheng—Guan Yu himself—who bore the whispers of slander…

“If not for a father-in-law like Hu Qizhong, Guan Yu would never have managed to make anything of himself.”

“This is clearly a case of marrying for wealth! I’m so jealous…”

“Ah, to have a wealthy father-in-law and a rich wife—now that is truly good fortune.”

And yet, despite it all… Changsheng, or Guan Yu, remained Guan Yu.

When others insulted him, he never hurled insults back. 

He never showed anger toward those who gossiped. 

Once he had shaken their voices from his heart, he returned at once to his true concerns: the work he was hired to do for this person and that, the care of his parents, the study of his books, and tending to his wife heavy with child—without the least distraction of resentment.

The Merchant's wife spoke up: “Black Cat… may I ask you something?”

Of course, Auntie! Ask away, ask away! I am always ready to answer the questions of my listeners!

Merchant's wife : “What did they… Guan Yu and Ah-Qing… feel, as father and mother? I want to know—will they love their first child as much as my husband and I love ours?” (She turned to glance at her husband, a fellow merchant, and clasped his hand tenderly.)

Hmm… now that is a question, isn’t it? How should I tell this story? Very well! This little cat will try his best to spin the tale with whatever wit Heaven has given him!

But before I go on, I must begin with Hu Qingyue’s side rather than Guan Yu’s. You may ask: why should the story of the mother come before that of the father? Is this not a little improper?

Ah, my friends, the truth is that both father and mother are of equal merit, equal importance, equally beloved by sons and daughters. And yet, if we are honest with our feelings… Every child who has both a father and mother—including myself finds the heart leaning more toward the mother than toward the father. And why should this be so? I leave it to you, dear listeners, to answer according to your own hearts.

A lady from Dayuan: “Because a mother is the one who stays with the child from the very first moment—from the day she conceives, until the child is born and raised.”

A dancing girl: “Yes… when I think of a father, I picture a stern man who scolds, who carries heavy expectations. But a mother… she is simply Mother—gentle, kind, always a wellspring of love and encouragement.”

Official: “That’s true. The father—or the man—is the one who sows the seed. But if there is no mother to plant and to nurture it, that seed would never sprout at all.”

And there you have it, dear listeners. Because the mother dwells with her child first of all, and because she is naturally one of tender heart, many children are inclined by nature to love her more dearly than their father. Even our heroine, now soon to be a mother herself—though we are not her children, we cannot help but cheer her on, feel affection, and even a little pity for her.

From the day her father confirmed she was with child, Hu Qingyue felt her body both light as air with excitement and joy, and heavy with the weight of carrying a small life nourished by her very own flesh and blood. That life , the one she called “child”—she knew better than anyone was not born of mere chance, nor of fate, nor from the accident of one night. It came from the desire to continue the family line, from the overflowing love between herself and her husband, and from the hope that their child would stand as living proof of their steadfast love.

As the days passed and her belly grew, her love for the unborn child grew too— exponentially, immeasurably. On some nights as she lay beside her husband, she did not feel as though the world was empty, with only the two of them against the vastness. No, she felt there was someone else with them. Someone unseen but undeniably real, staying close. 

Hu Qingyue would smile to herself in the stillness of the night, nestled against Changsheng’s chest as he slept soundly before her. The sound of the wind, the patter of gentle rain, and the chorus of night insects became a lullaby, not only for the couple who were about to shoulder the duty of parents, but also for the little one waiting to be born.

Sometimes, when she felt the child twist or stir within her, her whole body shivered as if her hair stood on end. It was the wondrous awe of life beginning its first motions. And soon after came a flood of joy and tender affection for this other being who was part of her very body—so overwhelming it spilled from her heart into warm, clear tears that slipped down her cheeks.

And now, having spoken of the mother, let us turn to the father—Guan Yu, Changsheng , the young man in his early twenties whose face so often seemed blank, unmoved, like the chiseled stillness of a stone figure. Yet if you were to observe his actions closely, with a heart of compassion, you would know well enough what sort of man he truly was.

The moment he learned that another life—his and hers together combined , was growing inside the very womb of his beloved wife, he did not shout with joy. He did not weep in delight. He simply drew her into a gentle embrace and gave her the steady gaze of a man resolved to shoulder responsibility. 

He knew, with perfect clarity, that from this moment on, life as a father would not be easy. To raise a child would demand all things: money, time, and the strength of both body and mind.

And he believed—he must be ready.

Had this been in a time when the Guan household was more prosperous, he might have entrusted Qingyue’s care to his mother, the wet-nurse, and the maids. But in these days, it was he himself who cherished and tended her, almost constantly. Just as I have told you before—that it was he and the wet-nurse who would snatch away the housework from Hu Qingyue’s hands.

And so it was that whether father or mother, both cherished the tiny life within with all their hearts. Nor was it only Changsheng and Hu Qingyue who devoted themselves to nurturing this child-to-be. Grandfather Guan Yi, his wife who was soon to be a grandmother, Grandfather Hu Bin, and even Changsheng’s old wet-nurse—all extended their hands to support the new parents with all the strength they could give.

“Young mistress! If you insist on carrying the water bucket yourself again, I’ll… I’ll tell the young master!” the wet-nurse threatened playfully as she caught sight of Qingyue lifting a wooden pail toward the well behind the house. “And if the young master finds out, he won’t come to press his ear to your belly anymore!”

“Qing’er, my dear… The temple of the bamboo grove gods is open for prayers. In truth, I wish Xiao Yu could take you there himself—but now that you’re heavy with a child, it’s not possible,” her mother-in-law said softly, a trace of worry in her voice, wishing her daughter-in-law could go and make offerings for the health of mother and baby. 

But Qingyue only smiled. “Dearest mother, let me simply write my name on a slip of paper and ask Guan-ge to carry it to the temple, along with a few coins. That will be quite enough.”

Once, seeing his daughter-in-law brewing medicines day after day, old Guan Yi finally grew concerned and remarked: “Qing’er, in just a few months you will give birth. Don’t trouble yourself making and boiling decoctions for me anymore—go take a long rest instead.”

“Oh, Father! Please !” Qingyue frowned, planting her fists on her hips so that her round belly jutted forward just a little. “If I have nothing to do, I can’t even sleep, you know?!”

(And there stood poor Guan Yu, biting down hard to keep from laughing, while Hu Bin , who had come to help with the medicine—burst out in hearty laughter at his daughter’s pouty display.)

And so it went on, day after day—long and dreamlike, as though without end. But every dream must end, and the ending came at last, when the time of birth arrived like a stage curtain sliding into place to replace the old scene with the new.

That winter’s night was piercingly cold, cold enough to seep into the very bones. Hu Qingyue rose from bed with the faint urge to relieve herself, thinking to “pluck a flower” outside the chamber. Yet as soon as she tried to rise, a sharp pain seized her waist and thighs, as though her very body were being torn apart.

The next sensation was of something warm, almost hot, flowing down between her legs, soaking the bedding beneath. She knew instantly…this was no water of the bladder, but the breaking of the waters that had cradled her child. 

Now the little one was kicking within her with urgent force, as though the entire world inside the womb was collapsing, pressing him outward into the world of truth beyond his mother’s body.

At that very moment, it was not only she who realized the birth had begun. Changsheng, who had been sleeping beside her, awoke with a start at the dampness spreading across the bedding. Seeing the alarm and pain etched across his beloved wife’s face, he leapt up at once, rushing to rouse his parents and father-in-law, who were resting in the adjoining rooms.

Changsheng had scarcely returned to clasp his wife’s hand for a few brief moments before he was ushered out of the bedchamber—leaving Hu Qingyue in the care of her father, the nursemaids and maids from her family estate, his own mother, and the old wet-nurse. He himself was left waiting outside for the good news, with only his father Guan Yi to keep him company.

“Xiao Yu, be careful—you’ll make yourself dizzy pacing like that,” his father cautioned his only son, who was wearing a track into the floor with his restless steps. He knew well enough, though, that any advice spoken now would go unheard.

In that moment, Changsheng was thinking and rethinking, combing over everything in his mind: had he forgotten some part of the preparations for this day? The firewood for boiling hot water and decoctions—he had chopped it already. The clothes and items for the infant—he did not need to buy them, for kindly townsfolk who had heard the news had already brought them, passing them through his father-in-law. And then, of course, there were the countless medicines that his father-in-law had prepared.

At last, Changsheng concluded with some measure of calm: nothing was lacking. Not a single thing.

As for Hu Qingyue, the pain she had felt at the beginning only mounted, sharper and sharper, unrelenting. It burned worse than her first menses, worse than her bridal night, worse even than the early pangs of labor. At first it had felt as though her legs and hips were being torn apart; now it felt as if her whole body would shatter like a clay tile dropped upon stone.

“AH! FATHER! IT’S HURT! IT’S HURT! HELP ME!!!” she screamed, not with the voice of a woman about to become a mother, but as though she had returned to being a little girl once more.

Hu Bin’s heart trembled at the sound, yet he steeled himself. Pressing a steadying hand on her shoulder, he whispered close to her ear:

“It is almost over… almost over, my child…”

And in the midst of all the fear, the anguish, the storm of emotions crashing down upon this small woman about to become a mother—there came a voice. A voice that only Hu Qingyue could hear…

“𑀬𑀢𑁄𑀳𑀁 𑀪𑀓𑀺𑀦𑀺 𑀅𑀭𑀺𑀬𑀸𑀬 𑀚𑀸𑀢𑀺𑀬𑀸 𑀚𑀸𑀢𑁄 𑀦𑀸𑀪𑀺𑀚𑀸𑀦𑀸𑀫𑀺 𑀲𑀜𑀺𑀘𑀘 𑀧𑀸𑀦𑀁 𑀚𑀻𑀯𑀺𑀢 𑀯𑁄𑀭𑁄𑀧𑁂𑀢 𑀢𑁂𑀦 𑀲𑀘𑀼𑀦 𑀲𑁄𑀢𑁆𑀣𑀺 𑀢𑁂 𑀳𑁄𑀢𑀼 𑀲𑁄𑀢𑁆𑀣𑀺 𑀕𑀪𑁆𑀪𑀲𑀼”

(Yato’haṁ bhagini ariyāya jātiyā jātā, nābhijānāmi sañcicca pāṇaṁ jīvitā voropetā.Tena saccena sotthi te hotu, sotthi gabbhassa.)

She did not understand the words. Or rather, she felt them vaguely familiar—like some chant she had once mumbled in childhood. But even with a single hearing, the strength that had drained from her body and spirit surged back, as though the moon had broken free of storm clouds, as though a flame had been fed with new fuel.

And so, with just a few more pushes , without another scream, without another cry of despair…

Guan Ping (关平), the son who would carry peace, was born the fifth year of the Guanghe reign (A.D. 182), in that chilling winter night of Hedong.

——————

Endnotes

1. Guan Yi (关毅) — Father of Guan Yu. His courtesy name was Dao Yuan (道远). Source: Baidu Baike

2. Śrī Devī — Another name of Lakṣmī, the goddess of fortune and prosperity.

Chapter Text

Someone once told me, long ago, that the Almighty God might not reside in the heavens, nor dwell in a radiant celestial palace surrounded by angels whose sole duty is to sing praises. Instead, God may dwell within the bodies of two human beings.
Those humans, called “Father” and “Mother” , are the gods of a child.
Official’s wife : “I am curious now. Guan Gong and the Divine Mother Hu Yue… When they became the parents of Guan Ping, how did they fulfill the role of ‘God’?”
Mendicant monk: “Tell it then, kind Black Cat… Tell the tale that is worth telling—the story of those who are like Brahma, creators of life.”
Very well, all of you. I shall tell you.

The little boy named Guan Ping ,at that time everyone simply called him “Ah-Ping”—was born a small and delicate child, like a flower blossoming in the midst of winter winds.
And yet, Ah-Ping let out a loud, piercing cry the very moment he left his mother’s womb. That cry was a divine decree in itself, a sign that this boy was healthy, that he would survive infancy, perhaps even live into his youth. And perhaps… it was also an omen of the weighty burdens and destiny that would one day fall upon his shoulders in a future no one could foresee.
“He is born! The child is born! My friend, we have a grandson!” Hu Bin burst forth from the chamber, arms raised in elation, before rushing to embrace Guan Yi, his old companion. Their laughter and tears mingled, and behind them came the joyful cries of the grandparents , each overjoyed to welcome a grandson into the world.

Guan Changsheng did not waste words, nor did he linger to speak further with his parents or his father-in-law. Instead, he strode straight toward the bedchamber, now transformed into the birthplace of his child.
As he stepped through the half-open wooden door, the faint scent of blood mingling with the familiar fragrance of countless medicinal herbs had touched his nose. Casting his gaze around, he saw the maids who had accompanied his father-in-law for the past month or two, busy pounding and boiling remedies in a flurry of motion.
His eyes moved past them, falling upon the same wooden bed he once shared with his wife. Now, it served as a resting place for the woman who had just become a mother. And when the faint whimpering of an infant rose from the small bundle laid beside her, he understood at once that what lay there was none other than the flesh and blood born of himself and the woman he loved.
“Guan-ge…” Hu Qingyue turned her pale yet still healthy face toward her husband, smiling despite her exhaustion, her lips refusing to close. “I must look terrible right now…”
“What do you mean? Are you unwell?” Changsheng asked, his tone laced with worry. “Shall I tell the maids to bring you medicine?”
She shook her head softly. “No… It’s just… I feel drenched in sweat, no longer fragrant, no longer beautiful. I fear you might—”
Before she could finish, the man of the Guan household placed his large hand gently upon her dark, silken hair, stroking it with tender affection. His gaze upon her was steady, carrying the same softness as always, unchanged by time or circumstance.
“You are as beautiful as ever… There is nothing wrong at all.”

His eyes then shifted to the small bundle, studying it more closely until the round face of the newborn came into view. He looked once, then again, and again. Each time he beheld that delicate visage, the rosy cheeks like peach petals, the tiny mouth opening and closing with faint movements, he was pulled back into memory, recalling the image of Hu Qingyue as a little girl of nine.
Had his father-in-law not told him otherwise, he might have mistaken that this baby was a girl.
Changsheng did not speak. He only reached out a hand toward his firstborn’s head… but halted midway, withdrawing it with hesitation. He swallowed hard, along with the knot of unnameable anxiety rising in his throat.
“Isn’t Ah-Ping adorable~?” Hu Qingyue teased him, nudging the baby gently closer. “You may hold him, you know.”
“Can…Can I hold him?” he stammered. “Truly?”
“Of course. Neither I nor Father ever forbade you.”
“Then… I won’t drop him, will I?”
At those words, both the new mother and the maids around the room burst into laughter. His awkward, hesitant demeanor was so endearing that even in the midst of blood, sweat, and exhaustion, it filled the chamber with warmth.

And then, all of a sudden, two old men stepped into the bedchamber. Who else could they be but Guan Yi and Hu Bin— maternal grandfather of the newborn whom Changsheng still hesitated to touch.
“What’s so hard about holding a baby? Watch this!” Hu Bin scooped his grandson up in a single swift motion, so quick that little Ah-Ping let out a startled “Eh!” before Hu Bin shifted him gently so the boy’s head rested on the crook of his arm. “Look closely, Guan Yu! I’ll lay him down now so you can hold him yourself!”
“Hu Bin! You picked him up too fast!” Guan Yi scolded his friend, stepping forward to take the infant from him with the utmost gentleness. He then turned and smiled at his son. “Xiao Yu, don’t mind that old rascal. Just watch how I hold him.”
“HEY! HOW DARE?!” Hu Bin retorted, feigning irritation, giving his friend a playful swat on the arm just like they had done in their youth.
The baby, however, was beginning to grow restless from all the unfamiliar noise around him. He squirmed, wriggling within the swaddling cloths until—

“WAHHHHHHH!!!”

“Ah, little one, We’re sorry,” Hu Bin quickly set aside his mock quarrel, trying to soothe the child. “Don’t cry now, little boy~ Are you hungry, perhaps~?”

For reasons even he could not explain, Changsheng stepped forward, drawing near to his father, and at last accepted his firstborn son into his own arms. At first his embrace was clumsy, trembling and unsure. But within moments the tremor faded, replaced by a firmer, steadier hold.
This, then, was the very first thing this man’s hands had ever carried, not the weight of weapons, not the heft of steel meant for war, but a small, fragile world wrapped in cloth: the newborn child who bore half his blood, and half the blood of the woman he loved.
The cries that had filled the room, sharp enough to pierce the ears, began to soften… softening, until they melted into gentle coos. Ah-Ping nestled his tiny, pale face against the fabric of his father’s robe, rubbing and nuzzling as if to say:
“Here, here is safety. Here is the other half of the world I can trust, no less than Mother herself.”
A winter wind drifted in, cool and brisk.
And yet—strangely enough ,neither Changsheng nor Qingyue felt cold.

Since ancient times, there has been a saying:
The gods are complete only through the Four Sublime Qualities.

The first is Loving-kindness.
From the moment a child is born, The gods wish only for the little one to grow in health and strength.

Compassion is the second. When the child cries from hunger, from want, from pain, the gods suffer even more deeply than the child himself.

Then comes Sympathetic Joy. When the little one laughs, when his face is radiant with delight, the gods, too, rejoice with boundless gladness.

And the last… Equanimity.When the child grows older, though their hearts may ache, the two gods …must learn to let go.

When a full month had passed, the Guan household held the customary one-month celebration for their little son. It was a blessing rite for the fragile new life, wishing him happiness and longevity, that he might one day grow into manhood.
At first, the Guans had intended to keep the gathering modest, mindful of how quickly their savings could dwindle. But of course, with Hu Bin as both friend and father-in-law in the household, such frugality was never an option.
“My friend, I truly feel ashamed,” Guan Yi said to Hu Bin, his face showing both unease and gratitude. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself to contribute money or rally people for this occasion.”
But Hu Bin shook his head, lifting a hand in dismissal. “Nonsense! This is our grandson’s important day—how could we possibly hold it in such a small, paltry manner?”
Cut to the guests, gathered in the courtyard, visiting the little one who now sat comfortably on Hu Qingyue’s lap, with Guan Changsheng seated protectively by their side. The neighbors of Hedong had come in good cheer, their words a mix of fondness, marvel, and predictions of the future.

“Oh, look at that! Fair-skinned, just like his mother!”
“When he grows up, he’ll surely have a trail of maidens falling for him!”
“I say, if not a court official, then a mighty general! Just look at his features—everything about this child speaks of greatness!”

Of course, while the parents smiled politely at their neighbors’ praises, little Ah-Ping could only gaze at the sea of unfamiliar faces with wide, bright eyes , like a newborn fawn, curious yet bewildered. After a moment, he furrowed his tiny brows, lowered his head, and gave a soft sigh.
And if the child had been able to speak, he surely would have said:

“I just want to either nap or drink milk in peace.”

But with just a gentle touch along his tiny body, Ah-Ping turned his face toward his father. The boy’s expression—half bewildered, half blank, suddenly shifted into a wide smile, dimples appearing faintly at his cheeks, followed by the lightest laughter spilling from his lips.
“Looks like he wants to play with you,” Hu Qingyue chuckled softly, before lifting her son into her husband’s arms. Changsheng smiled faintly as he accepted the little one, then rose and began to pace leisurely around the room with his son held close.
Ah-Ping’s small hands clutched and tugged at his father’s robe until the fabric was lightly wrinkled. His bright eyes darted about at the many faces in the gathering, babbling in curious little coos. From time to time, he turned his gaze back to his father’s face, smiling up at him or rubbing his tiny head against his chest with the tender affection of a kitten seeking warmth.

“Ah-Ping…” Changsheng murmured, drawing his son tighter against his chest before lowering his head to place the softest kiss upon the child’s crown.
“When you grow up, you need not trouble yourself too much over your parents. All I ask… is that you grow into a good man, one who serves the nation and the people.”
Changsheng did not truly know what kind of blessing a father was supposed to give. He did not even know if his words could rightly be called a blessing at all. Compared to the usual wishes—longevity, good health, wealth and prosperity, the honor of supporting one’s family, this seemed strange, almost misplaced.
And yet… perhaps, just perhaps, this peculiar prayer would take root in the boy’s heart all the same.

“Hey! That’s the crooked salt-merchant’s brat… the magistrate’s son!!!”
One single shout shattered the hush of blessings, tearing apart the sacred, joyous air that had belonged to the child’s day. At once, murmurs rose—whispers laced with hatred and fear, swelling louder and louder.
Even the little boy, the center of the celebration, pressed his face against his father’s chest, as if instinct told him that this uninvited guest was a man of ill intent.
“Lü Xiong! You wretched boy! Get out! The Guan household does not welcome the likes of you!!!” one guest pointed angrily toward the doorway.
“Last year you disrupted the wedding and got spat on by the bride herself! Haven’t you learned any shame?!” another voice piled on.
Curses, denunciations, and cries of rejection resounded one after another. And yet, Lü Xiong, son of the magistrate, paid them no heed. He walked forward, straight toward where Hu Qingyue sat.
Changsheng, holding his son, strode quickly to his wife’s side. He placed the baby into her arms, then moved his own body to shield them both, just as his senior, an old rival who had long despised him—arrived before them.
“Eh… waaah…”
“Ah-Ping… Mother is here, little one… Don’t cry…” Qingyue forced her heart to be firm, steady, and fearless, rocking her baby gently in her arms to soothe him.
The father and mother, still in the bloom of youth, fixed their eyes upon the magistrate’s son with a gaze born from something ancient, something deeper than thought, an instinct as old as life itself.
The instinct of living creatures to protect their offspring from the fangs of predators.
That feeling… could only be translated into human words as this:
“The feeling of gods, compelled to protect the entire world that belongs to them.”

Chapter Text

Lü Xiong, the son of the magistrate, first cast his eyes on Hu Qingyue, then on her junior disciple, Changsheng, before finally letting his gaze fall upon little Ah-Ping, who clung to his mother, trembling. The boy made no sound— no cries, no babbling… Only silence.
“You…” Hu Qingyue tightened her hold on her son. “What exactly is your purpose here?”

Lü Xiong did not answer, but instead asked her in return, “Is that your daughter? Such a pretty little thing.” As he spoke, he reached out to pinch the child’s cheek. But Changsheng stepped in front of him, blocking his way, his eyes growing sharper and more menacing by the moment.
“That is my son, Ah-Ping,” Changsheng retorted curtly.
Hu Qingyue pulled her son even closer, while the little boy pressed his face firmly into his mother’s chest. Pressed so tightly that she could hear the quick, uneven rhythm of his breath ,like whispers from a tiny heart gripped by fear.
And if Ah-Ping, only one month old, had been able to speak, his words would have been:
“Mother… that man is cruel. I am afraid.”

“Lü Xiong…” It was Master Hu Bin who came forward. His face bore a trace of worry, yet his bearing was firmer, more resolute, than on any other day.
In that instant, everyone could sense it clearly—Master Hu Bin, teacher to both Guan Changsheng and Lü Xiong, was no longer the kindly, accommodating man who yielded easily to others.
“I am not one to rebuke others lightly,” the elder said, arms crossed as he lifted his gaze to the magistrate’s son, who stood nearly eye to eye with him. “But perhaps it is my failing as a teacher—that I never scolded or beat my pupils when they erred, and merely thought that time itself would see them grow mature.”
He paused for a moment, casting a brief glance at Changsheng—his cherished disciple and son-in-law—before turning his eyes back upon Lü Xiong.
“I forgot, perhaps… that some men are not inclined toward goodness, nor raised with virtue by their parents, unlike your junior here.”
The words made Changsheng falter. At the same time, his wife curved her lips into the faintest sly smile. For a fleeting moment, an image from six years past returned to her mind: a nine-year-old girl sparring with the bullies led by Lü Xiong himself.

‘Yes. Older in years. But not in wisdom. Not in virtue. My father says: age means nothing if you have no integrity or insight. A child who is wise is already an adult. And a man like you…is still just a brat.’
‘My father taught me self-defense too, you know…So if any of you have the guts to attack a little girl, go ahead. I’d love to hear how you plan to explain this to your precious magistrate father.’

That image overlapped with the sight before him now— teacher and father standing firm against the son of a powerful man. With that stance, those words, it became clear to Changsheng where his Ah-Qing had inherited her unshakable courage and defiance.

Lü Xiong exhaled dismissively, answering in a manner no disciple ought to use with his own teacher. “If not for my father’s insistence that I attend, I would never have called you my master… But never mind. I only came to offer my congratulations that Ah-Yu now has a son.”
“Such blatant lies…” Hu Qingyue spoke loudly enough for all to hear. Changsheng, startled, hurried to cover little Ah-Ping’s ears.
“Ah-Qing! Our child is right here!”
“Eeh…” (Mother’s words make no sense… but they sound so cool.)
Guan Yi’s wife, standing not far away, pressed her hand to her chest in shock at her beloved daughter-in-law’s outburst. “Qing’er, oh heavens, I shall faint!”
“Hoooy, madam! But the young mistress isn’t wrong, you know!” Changsheng’s old nursemaid rushed to support her, laughing heartily all the while.
“Ha… is this our lovely daughter-in-law or a seasoned soldier?” Guan Yi chuckled softly, half wearied, half secretly pleased with Hu Qingyue’s fearlessness, which surpassed many a man’s.

Lü Xiong turned to glare at Hu Qingyue, his eyes fierce, his fist clenched so tightly the veins bulged.
“You… what did you just say?!”
“I said what I said. I’ve no intention of wasting my breath repeating myself for a fool like you.”
With that, Hu Qingyue lifted her chin, her posture proud. Little Ah-Ping looked up at her and smiled without understanding a word, only sensing that his mother shone with courage.
Enraged and humiliated—memories of his shame at the ruined wedding flashing back. Lü Xiong lunged at her, hand raised. Back then, she had spat in his face and struck him across the cheek. Now, perhaps, he thought he might repay the insult with his own hand.
“You wolf-bitch! Half-breed! So sharp-tongued, are you?! Last time you slapped me, don’t think I’ll be so lenient today—agh!” He cried out immediately, his wrist seized and crushed in a grip of iron.
A memory from six years past surfaced unbidden—when Changsheng had been a mere fourteen-year-old boy, yet even then, his grasp had been unbearably strong.
“I told you before…” The voice of that same boy, now grown into a man and a father, was steady and resolute. “You may mock me, scorn me, even strike me if you wish. But if you would harm women and children… I will not stand idle.”
“Ungh… you red-faced bastard! Think you can stop me so easily?!” Lü Xiong sneered, his other hand flashing to draw the knife at his waist, swinging it to stab!
“Xiao Yu!!!”
Hu Bin and Guan Yi cried in unison, while both mother and nursemaid screamed through their tears. The gathered guests panicked, shifting restlessly but too afraid to step in.
Fortune, at least, was with Changsheng—he evaded the strike in the nick of time. In that instant, he turned sharply to his wife.
“Ah-Qing! Take the child inside!”
Then, without hesitation, he faced his brutish senior once more.

Hu Qingyue tightened her hold on little Ah-Ping in both arms, then rose to her feet, striding swiftly away from the courtyard. The corridor stretched endlessly before her—or so it felt ,as she hurried along.
“Hic… waah… waah…” The infant clung to his mother like a monkey to its dam, his tiny tears streaking down his cheeks like dewdrops on the petals of a morning blossom robbed of its brightness. Hearing her son’s cries made her heart quiver, but still she pressed forward , faster, faster, until she reached the bedchamber she shared with her husband.

For a fleeting moment, Qingyue thought she and her child were safe.
But no… today, Lü Xiong had not come to her husband’s house alone.
As she pushed open the chamber door, two burly men were already seated within, waiting.
“How dare you break into my husband’s quarters! Out, this instant!”
“Shhh, Ah-Qing~ No need to raise your voice…” One of the men pressed a finger to his lips, the gesture grotesque and revolting, enough to send a shiver of disgust down her spine.
“While that red-faced fellow of yours is busy with Brother Lü Xiong… why don’t you come have some fun with me instead~” The other staggered forward, reeking of stale liquor, the stench making her gag. Instinctively, she clutched her son tighter.
Her round eyes—so often likened to those of a gentle doe , had darkened into the fierce glare of a she-wolf. She drew a deep breath, then unleashed her voice like a curse.
“Wretched bastards! Chasing after coin, drink, and women—you grovel before a worthless magistrate’s son! Even a fool who admits his ignorance and strives to learn is far wiser than the likes of you!”
The ruffians froze, stricken as though bound by her words, words that rang with the force of steel. She was but a young mother, seemingly powerless against men… yet her sharp tongue and unyielding spirit cut deeper than any blade.
“How dare you?! To force yourself upon a woman with a suckling child—there is no baser depravity! Get out of my chamber, at once! Or else… Do not think a mother will keep her claws sheathed!”
One of them, regaining his nerve, extended a hand with a mocking leer. His words were filth enough to curdle the blood.
“Th-then let me hold your brat first. When my friend is done enjoying you, I’ll give the child back.”

Hu Qingyue stared at the two hell-spawn intruders. She closed her eyes, drew in a long breath, and let it flow through her body, guiding the currents of qi that coursed within. In this moment of peril, she summoned forth something she had only practiced in secrecy—now called upon in desperation.
My listeners, have you not heard?
Miraculous powers—whether superhuman strength, far-seeing perception, or abilities that exceed ordinary imagination, all are born from the heart’s resolve and the breath’s circulation within our own bodies.

One eighth of a ke…
A cool sensation, like the spray of a mountain waterfall, flowed into both her arms. She shifted little Ah-Ping into one arm, and with the other hand clenched her fist tightly.

Two eighths of a ke…
The ruffians never realized that what was but a fleeting moment to them was, for their “prey,” an expanse of golden time—long enough to fight back.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

“KYAAAH!!! Ancestors above! Forgive this foolish daughter-in-law for disturbing your rest—please, don’t claw my flesh away!” Hu Qingyue shrieked, swiping wildly at the air as though warding off unseen spirits.
The lackeys of Lü Xiong blinked in confusion. Then—pain seared across their shoulders.
“Wh-what the hell?! Blood!”
“Impossible! She has no knife—how could we get wounded?!”
“Could it be… could it be that the ancestral spirits of this house are enraged by our trespass?!”
“AAAHHH!!! Haunted! This place is haunted! Run for your lives!!!”
As the two thugs bolted from the chamber, neither saw the faint smile curling beneath the hand Qingyue pressed over her face—the sly smile of a woman who had sharpened her fingernails with the power of her breath for but a brief instant, and coupled it with the oldest trick of all: superstition.
Hm? What’s that you say, dear reader? That this feels a bit too supernatural?
Not at all. For one at the very first steps of cultivation, such tricks are the most ordinary of ordinary things.
(The monk and Daoist priest nod quietly, smiling.)

The scene cut to the courtyard before the main hall, where senior and junior disciples clashed in relentless struggle. Cries rang out all around—cheers urging the junior, Guan Changsheng, to triumph over the magistrate’s son.
“Leave my house! Let this end here—never cross me again!” Changsheng growled, his voice firm as he grappled his elder.
Lü Xiong roared back, “Not until I defeat you, you red-faced teacher’s pet!”
Yet the tide of battle had clearly turned. Changsheng’s towering build, his hardened strength, and—most of all , the hidden power of his breath, matched to that of Hu Qingyue herself, outweighed the frail physique of a pampered son.
Had Lü Xiong paid attention, he might have noticed something strange: no matter how many blows they traded, Changsheng never seemed tired, never truly hurt.
‘Inhale deeply, exhale long. Let your qi flow through your body. When you walk the right path, the breath will divide weariness and pain, separating them from your heart. This does not mean you will never suffer again—but it does mean your spirit need not falter when your body does.’
The voice of his master whispered through Changsheng’s mind. He inhaled, filling his lungs to the brim. It was as if his blood surged like the roaring Yellow River itself, sweeping away fatigue and pain for a fleeting moment—leaving only strength, growing greater and greater.
Suddenly, the young man of the Guan clan grasped his opponent with both hands and lifted him into the air. Gasps erupted all around, even from his own father and mother.
“It reminds me of that day…” his mother whispered, “when our boy split wood with the axe dozens of times over. He was only ten years old then.”
“Mm. But this—this surpasses even that,” replied Guan Yi, his face solemn, though a smile tugged faintly at his lips with paternal pride.

“Oh heavens!!! Incredible! Admirable!” someone shouted.
“Young master, you are unmatched!!!” The village men bellowed in delight.
“Fight on, young master!!!” Girls and women cried encouragement, some casting fluttering glances, hearts trembling at the sight.
“E-enough! Enough! I yield!!!” Lü Xiong’s voice cracked with fear as he dangled above the ground, sweat streaming from his body. “Let me down, Ah-Yu! I yield!”

Someone in the crowd, not yet satisfied, shouted aloud:
“Kill him! Kill him already!”
“Yes, yes! The world would be better without him! Young master, end him!!!”
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
The voices of the crowd rose like a sentence of judgment, condemning the one who had oppressed them for so long. Only Changsheng remained calm—and his father, Guan Yi, raised a hand to quiet them.
“Everyone! Our land has laws and order. Let this not end in bloodshed!”
Changsheng slowly lowered his hands, then released Lü Xiong, letting him fall lightly to the ground. He spoke no words, made no gesture of cruelty—only turned and walked back toward his parents and his master.
“Well done… Guan Yu,” Hu Bin said, resting a hand on his shoulder with quiet pride. “You did not merely defeat him—you conquered your own heart.”
“I had no wish to harm him in the first place,” Changsheng replied evenly, turning his gaze away.

Lü Xiong staggered to his feet, dazed. Soon after, the two lackeys he had sent to ambush Hu Qingyue in the bedchamber came rushing back, pale and frantic from the “horrors” I have already recounted.
“Boss! Let’s go home!” one cried, trembling as he helped steady the magistrate’s son. The other kept glancing nervously over his shoulder as though something might follow them.
“No! I’m not leaving!” Lü Xiong snapped, wiping the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. His arrogance had not yet drained away.
“But master! That house is haunted!”
“Nonsense! Ghosts don’t exist!”
Both henchmen thrust out their arms, scratched and bleeding, as proof. “If you won’t believe us, then look for yourself! I say… we should never set foot in this house again. Otherwise, one day the ancestral spirits of the Guan family will strangle us to death!!!”
Among the crowd, murmurs spread like wildfire, retelling the miracle of the “ancestral ghosts.” Only Guan Changsheng, his parents, and his old nursemaid were baffled, unable to grasp what had truly happened.
“Did I come too late?”
Hu Qingyue stepped forward, Ah-Ping nestled safely in her arms. She cast a sly glance at her father, Hu Bin—one that spoke volumes. Changsheng turned to his wife, asking, “This… ancestral ghost, what was that about, Ah-Qing?”
“It’s a long story. Don’t mind it,” she deflected, turning instead to coo at her son, teasing him until his laughter rang bright and carefree.
The murmurs of rumor, the cries of scorn at the defeated, and the laughter of a family entwined blended together, as though the celebration of the child’s first month would pass without further misfortune.
Or perhaps… It was only the last straw for a man drowning in envy and pride, who would never let matters rest so easily. That, dear listeners, lies beyond our knowing.
So I ask you now… Are you ready for the story that comes before the true adventures?

Chapter Text

“What?!” The magistrate of Hedong bellowed, as his beloved son sat half-reclined while servants tended to his wounds. “That wretched beggar of noble descent dared lay a hand on you?!”
“OW! Of course he did, Father!” Lü Xiong groaned in reply, clutching his bruises from the fight the day before. “I can’t stand him anymore! Why did Heaven even bother to let such a man be born?!”
The magistrate paced back and forth for a moment, hatching a vile scheme in his mind. Then he came to stand beside the wooden couch where his son lay sprawled, waving the servants away.
“All of you, leave us. I will speak with my son in private!”
“Uh, but , sir —”
“When I give an order, you must obey!”
“Y-Yes, my lord.”
Once the household attendants had withdrawn, the father and son leaned close, whispering their treacherous plot. “Send men to seize them all—Guan Yi, his wife, their in-law and a nephew. Once they’re in our hands, do whatever you please.”
“But Father, we can’t simply storm in recklessly.”
“We’ll have our men pretend they’re searching for an escaped bandit. When they fail to find him, we’ll accuse that family of harboring fugitives—or aiding their escape.”
“Oh! Brilliant indeed! Then this time, let me lead the raid myself!”
“Hmph. As you wish.”

Before we continue, let me ask you this: who among you has ever dreamed? Raise your hands for me. Oh, I see—one, two, three, four…far too many to count! Very well, that’s enough.
The story I am about to tell you happened three days before the fateful night of calamity that would forever alter the destiny of our hero and heroine. It began with a dream…Whether born of a restless body, bestowed by the gods, or sent as a true omen from an uncertain future, none could say.
“Xiao-Yu…my little feather…no…don’t leave me! Don’t leave your mother!”
“Dearest, what’s wrong?” Guan Yi startled awake, shaking his wife, whose body trembled with sweat and fear.
Moments later, she woke in tears, clutching her husband tightly. “I had an awful dream…in it, you and I were seized and thrown into a deep pit, while our little Xiao-Yu drifted farther and farther away. I’m so afraid. He’s our only child…does this mean we’re destined to lose him?”
Guan Yi returned her embrace, offering no words but only the comfort of his hand stroking her shoulder, as if to say she must not dwell too much on it. Yet within his heart, he was already piecing together fragments of prophecy.
‘Tomorrow I must warn my son to be cautious. A father and mother may die of old age, but you…you must live on, Xiao-Yu, my son.’
Whether it was luck or ill fortune, the next morning and the day after—Changsheng was hired to guard a herd of cattle in a distant field, in exchange for a small wage. Thus he came to bid farewell to his parents, entrusting them to Hu Qingyue and the old nursemaid.
“Be careful, my son. We’ve heard rumors of thieves stealing grain and livestock nearby,” Guan Yi warned.
“Do not worry, Father. I can defend myself.”
“Here, take this bundle of rice,” his mother said, handing him a parcel wrapped in lotus leaves, followed by another bundle tied with straw. “And this is the pastry Ah-Qing baked for you. My son will not go hungry for the next two days.”
In Hu Qingyue’s arms, baby Ah-Ping whimpered as he saw his father preparing to leave. The infant’s tiny arms stretched out and flailed, as if pleading not to be left behind—or begging to be taken along.
“Ahh! Ahh!”
“Ah-Ping, no, my little one. Father must go to work,” Hu Qingyue soothed him, forcing a smile despite the ache in her heart, afraid her unease might sour the milk meant for her beloved child.
Changsheng turned to look at his wife and son. He walked over, resting his hand gently on the boy’s pale forehead. Feeling the warmth of his father’s palm, the baby calmed and let out a toothless smile, clutching at his father’s finger with innocent delight.
“Ah-Qing…” His voice betrayed his worry about leaving behind this small woman—his cherished wife , to care for both the old and the young in his absence.
“Do not fret, Guan-ge. I’ll manage. Go on, tend to the cattle.”
The young man blushed, sighed, and released his son’s hand. He tightened the strap of his satchel and stepped away. Time seemed to drag as he walked. The distance from his home to the pastures stretched endlessly before him. In his heart, an ominous unease began to stir—something was coming, sooner or later. Yet he could only tell himself he was thinking too much.
“Waaaah!”
The wails of Ah-Ping rang behind him, desperate cries reaching for the father who walked away. Changsheng longed to turn back, to lift his son once more into his arms, but time could not wait. He hardened his resolve and kept walking—step by step, farther and farther ,without looking back at the sight or sound that tore at his heart.

Merchant’s Wife: “Oh…how pitiful. Husband, I miss our child waiting back home.”
Merchant: “Ah, my dear…I miss them too.” (He embraced her tightly.)

Ah, my dearest friends, this was the first sign—the first separation foretold by the soothsayer at Hanzhong two years prior. A parting born of the vile schemes of beasts clad in human skin. A parting that would force a good man into the likeness of a savage beast, all to protect what he loved. And a parting that would forever change the course of their fates, unstoppable and irreversible, beyond all return.

Time passed, until the third night. Whether it was mere coincidence or Heaven’s cruel test, none could say. The cattle owner suddenly had cause to sell off his herd, and so Guan Changsheng’s duty ended sooner than expected. He was free to return home.
Yet strangely—throughout the journey back, Changsheng found himself clutching his chest almost the entire way. A stabbing pain, sharp as invisible needles, pierced his heart again and again.
“I must just be tired… Once I’m home, I’ll rest,” he told himself.
But the moment he stepped across the threshold, something was wrong. The front gate stood ajar , wide open when it should never have been. Inside, the house that had once been whole now lay in shambles, wrecked by intruders—more than one, by the look of it.
Changsheng drew back, pressing himself against the outer wall, then leaned carefully to peer inside. His heart pounded so violently the pain in his chest grew unbearable. The sounds of furniture crashing, of ceramics shattering, mingled with the coarse shouts of strangers. His stomach churned with nausea.
The image of his aging parents surged into his mind. He forced himself forward, each step cautious, silent, every nerve on edge.
At the edge of his vision he glimpsed them—the so-called “bandits,” rifling through every corner of his family home. Rage burned hot, and every muscle urged him to strike. Yet he was only one man. To fight now would be to throw his life away in vain.
No, he had to move with care. Skulk between shadows, slip between corners, avoid their notice. And above all…
He had to find his parents.

Changsheng walked on, step by step, until he reached the back of the house, where the yard opened toward the riverbank. He had already peered into every room without finding his parents. He thought to retrace his steps and search again ,until he passed by the stone well.
Had he chosen to ignore it…
Had he chosen to simply walk on…
Then the sight awaiting him, once he leaned over to look, would never have branded itself upon his soul for all eternity.
“!”
There, within the deep water, lay two bodies. The lifeless forms of an old man and woman, entangled together in death.
The very instant his eyes fell upon them, Changsheng knew without doubt.
They were his father and mother!
His phoenix eyes flew wide, tears welling at their rims. His heart already pierced by a thousand invisible needles— now seemed struck by one final blow that extinguished all feeling, leaving behind only the hollow void of a son who had lost his parents forever.
And yet…Guan Changsheng did not sob. He did not scream. He did not weep or wail.
Time itself showed him no mercy, not even the mercy of shedding a single tear.

His blood ran cold when he realized someone else was missing. Desperately, he searched every corner of the house, clinging to the fragile hope that someone might yet be alive. He prayed, and prayed again , yet time allowed him no mercy, not even enough for his tears to fall.
A shriek echoed from the kitchen. At once, Changsheng rushed toward it—and what he saw when he leaned in made his blood freeze.
There she was…the woman who had been, at once, his friend, his sister, his beloved, his wife, and the mother of his child.
In her trembling arms, the baby wailed, while around her circled the depraved beasts in human skin, eyes gleaming like predators ready to tear apart their prey.
“Lü Xiong! You wretched fiend! Tell me, where have you taken Guan-ge’s parents?!” Hu Qingyue shouted. Though tears of terror streamed down her cheeks, a fierce glint of courage still remained in her gaze.
“That old fool Guan Yi and his wife?” The magistrate’s son grinned, a smile more hideous than any demon’s.
“My men beat them bloody, but they refused to reveal where they were hiding the bandit. So…we threw them down the well.”
“You vile beast!!!” She lurched forward, raising her hand to strike, even while clutching Ah-Ping tightly in her other arm. But her desperate act was the opening they had been waiting for.
“No! Where are you taking my child?! Stop it!!!”
A fist crashed into her stomach, and she crumpled to the floor. In the next instant, one of the thugs tore the infant from her arms. The baby, wrenched so roughly from the safety of his mother’s embrace, let out a piercing, desperate cry.
“Waaah! Waaaah! Waaaah!”
“Ah-Ping! My baby! Please, don’t harm him! I beg of you!!!”
The cries of mother and child, mingled with the brutish laughter of the jackals around them, struck Changsheng like molten oil poured over his heart. The icy blood in his veins boiled.
And in that moment, he knew. This unearthly fury that consumed him , was something he had never felt before in all his life.

At last, Changsheng’s patience shattered.For there before his eyes—Lü Xiong…had pinned his beloved wife beneath him, fumbling to loosen the sash at her waist, preparing to commit an act of unspeakable depravity.
Hu Qingyue struggled, but her resistance was met with a single stinging slap across her face, so sharp that pain, fear, and shame crushed the strength from her body. She lay trembling, powerless.
Meanwhile, little Ah-Ping, clutched tightly in the arms of one of Lü Xiong’s henchmen, could only cry in confusion. The infant’s helpless wails pierced the air, knowing nothing of the vile cruelty unfolding, only that his mother was in danger and his world was breaking apart.

If even beasts will fight to protect their mate and their young…
Then… Why should a man not do the same?

In a single heartbeat, before the predators even realized it, the tide had turned.
That night…Hu Qingyue beheld the most terrifying sight she would ever witness in her life.
The gentle, soft-hearted man , her husband, the one she had loved so fervently since girlhood…Was no more.
In his place stood a beast, driven only by the searing blaze of vengeance and the anguish of a son who had lost his parents… and by the unbearable sight of his wife and child about to be torn from him before his very eyes.

Red burned his body, red as the slaughter,
Blood of the wicked ran down in streams.
Louder he roared than Pangu’s thunder,

Tears with the crimson mingled in grief.
Fists like hammers, elbows crashing,
Knees like stone on flesh and bone.

Low were the cowards, fallen in numbers,
Heap upon heap of the faithless slain.
And when his fury, heavier, hungered,
Then did he tear their bellies wide—
Thus was vengeance, thus was justice,
Thus was the crimson lord revealed.

Hu Qingyue could do nothing but clutch her son tightly , pressing the child’s face into her chest so he would not see the horror before them. She rocked him gently, soothing his cries, while the screams of her husband and of the wretches who perished beneath him—rose and fell like a ghastly lullaby in a night where the heavens themselves were painted with blood.
Only minutes later, when Changsheng at last came back to his senses, a wave crashed through his wounded heart. He saw everything, heard everything, smelled everything.

He…he had never meant for it to end like this.

Chapter Text

Guan Changsheng gazed wide-eyed at the scene inside the ruined household, his heart beginning to tremble.
Lü Xiong, the thuggish senior who had ordered his men to push Changsheng’s parents into the backyard well and had attempted to violate his wife, was now reduced to nothing but a mangled corpse , his body shattered from being hurled again and again against the walls and pillars of the house. He had died in a state befitting the wickedness he had inflicted upon the villagers and the Guan family that very night.
Not far away lay the piled-up bodies of his henchmen, who had followed him from the magistrate’s residence—his father’s house. Their condition was no better than their master’s; perhaps, in truth… even worse.
The stench of death wafted into Changsheng’s nostrils until his stomach heaved. Before he realized it, his blood-stained hand flew to cover his mouth as he stumbled outside the house, retching up everything in his belly until his insides burned.

‘It was right… what you did was right, Guan Yu… they deserved to die!’ The voice of instinct roared in the space where only he could hear.
The voice of reason rose to challenge it. ‘No… even if a man is so vile that he deserves death—we are not executioners! This… this is wrong! Against the laws of the realm! Against morality itself!’
Changsheng staggered to his feet and ran toward the water jar by the kitchen. He lifted the lid, dipped a ladle, and poured water over his face and body. Yet, strangely… no matter how many times he washed himself, the “blood” on his skin refused to fade.
Perhaps it was not blood at all, but the stain of his first true “sin.”
His life until now had been innocent and light, unburdened by guilt—he had never nursed grudges, never harmed man or beast out of whim or spite. But on this night, Changsheng had done so with his own hands. Even if unintentional, even if it was rage that drove him to cross that line.
“Guan-ge! That’s enough! Stop!” Ah-Qing rushed forward, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to restrain the towering frame of her husband.
“Ah-Qing, let me go!”
“No! Not until you calm down—I know you didn’t mean to—ah!”
Thud!
“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!!”
With just one shove, her husband sent her crashing to the ground. Collapsed on the floor, Hu Qingyue nearly choked on the lump of sorrow that rose in her throat.
No, dear readers, she was not crying out of hurt pride, nor out of fear, nor even from the sting of betrayal. Quite the opposite ,she knew with the clarity of a woman who understood her husband’s heart, that he was not himself at this moment.
Even Guan Changsheng seemed startled at the realization of what he had just done: that in his moment of brokenness, he had pushed away the very woman he loved most.

“Guan-ge… it’s all right… I’m here… and Ah-Ping is too.”
She cast a glance at little Ping, who sat on the kitchen floor, frozen.
“Don’t be afraid… Me and our son– we won’t abandon you —WAIT!!!”
Changsheng suddenly bolted in the opposite direction. Ah-Qing snatched up her son into her arms and hurried after him. When she realized where he was headed, her heart nearly plummeted into her stomach. She quickened her pace with desperate urgency.
Her fears proved true. There he was, running straight toward the stone well—the very same well where the lifeless bodies of his parents now lay.
He was already climbing onto the rim, ready to hurl himself into its depths!
“Guan-ge! Don’ton’t do this!!!” Ah-Qing screamed, clutching at him, dragging him back with all her strength. The sound of her sobs filled the night, and the mounting pressure around them made little Ping burst into tears as well.
“Ah-Qing… I… I’ve become a wicked man… Just let me die…” Changsheng’s voice drifted like a soul already half departed. “A woman as noble and beautiful as you… shouldn’t be bound to a man with blood-stained hands… Please…”
“Guan-ge! Don’t you love me anymore?!” Ah-Qing cried, her voice breaking, carrying sorrow, fear, and even a flicker of anger. “If you do this, how will I and our child live on?!”
Changsheng answered faintly, as if his mind were slipping away
“Then… Master… your father… he will…”
The young man who had only just begun to taste happiness—married, with a child, weaving countless plans to lift the lives of all those he loved , now saw those visions dissolve like mist under the touch of the hand. They had become nothing more than dreams, never to be realized again.
A man who kills is, by law, a criminal. Even if spared from prison, any hope of a good livelihood—especially in government service was gone forever for one branded by society as a murderer, regardless of the reasons behind his deed.
“To stay with me… is no different from being a widow.” Changsheng spoke without daring to meet the eyes of the woman he loved, nor even glance at the son he cherished more than life itself.
“Master… your father… he is a man of wealth. If you and the child return to his household… you will be safe.”

At that very moment, Changsheng, seated on the rim of the well, was about to let his body fall into the abyss—into death, into the sorrow he thought would bring an end to the ruins of his life.
But of course, Heaven would never allow the hero of our tale to perish so easily. And so, the heavens themselves offered a path…
Smack!
Ah-Qing seized her husband by the collar, forcing his eyes to meet hers with a sharp gaze that gave him no chance to look away.
“To share joy, to withstand sorrow!” she spat through gritted teeth, tears spilling down her face as she reclaimed a promise once made.
“You said those words to me back when they called me an ill-omened woman. If I would not abandon you, then how could you abandon me?! Would that not be the height of selfishness?!”
That voice—clearer and more resolute than any imperial edict—struck directly into Changsheng’s heart, jolting his soul awake. He felt as though the nightmare had at last ended. Though the pain within him remained, he had “awoken” from its grip.
All he wanted now was to hold her, to hold their child, and remain there in silence for a while before daring to think of what might come next. Yet Heaven and Earth, relentless in their tests, offered them no such reprieve. Shouts from outside the ruined household tore through the fragile calm, reminding them that the magistrate’s men who had followed Lü Xiong here were far more numerous than the corpses that already littered the kitchen floor.
“Young master! Young master!”
“Brother! Lü-ge—ah!!!”
“Lü-ge is dead! Who killed him?!”
“It must be Guan Yu! Find him! Hunt him down!!!”
Ah-Qing cast her gaze past the backyard and saw the river—the very same river she had once crossed as a child when she sought out Master Pujing. If they could not swim across to the far shore, she reckoned they could still survive by drifting with the current or following the reeds upstream until they reached her family’s old home.
“Guan-ge.” That was all she spoke before seizing her husband by the wrist and pulling him toward the landing at the rear of the house.
She lifted her eyes to the heavens, but the sky offered no comfort—only a waning crescent moon and stars dulled as though they, too, could not bear to witness the human tragedy unfolding below. And yet, a gentle night wind brushed across her face and hair, whispering softly like a promise: that life still held a road forward, so long as they did not surrender.

There was no time left to linger in thought. The two of them made their way down to the riverbank, hiding themselves amid the thick reeds before pressing onward.
Little Ping began to cry, frightened by the darkness and the damp chill that clung to the night air, until his mother soothed him with a lullaby:
“月兒明，風兒靜，
樹葉遮窗欞。
小寶寶，快睡覺，
睡在那個夢中。”
“The moon is bright, the wind is still,
Leaves sway against the window sill.
Little darling, close your eyes,
Sleep and dream ‘neath starry skies.”

“月兒那個明，風兒那個靜，
搖籃輕擺動。
娘的寶寶，閉上眼睛，
睡呀睡在那個夢中。”
“The moon is shining, the wind is still,
The cradle sways so soft, so still.
Mama’s darling, close your eyes,
Sleep, my child, in dream’s sweet skies.”

Changsheng followed behind, listening in silence to his wife’s gentle voice as she lulled their son to rest. He turned once more, casting a final glance through the curtain of reeds back toward the landing at their ruined home.
The farther they walked, the more distant that house became—the house where he had been born, where he had lived all his life ,until it receded into the night.
He knew, with a certainty that struck him like cold iron, that he would never return there again.
“Ah-Qing… I just remembered,” he murmured as he turned back to her. “What about my nursemaid?”
“Worry not.” Ah-Qing answered softly, cradling the now-slumbering child in her arms. “She went back this morning to visit her daughter in the next village. The girl has just given birth.”
“Then fortune smiles on her,” Changsheng sighed. “At least there is someone who has been spared… unlike…”
“Enough, Guan-ge. Do not speak of it. Hurry—we must keep moving.”
Ah, dear reader… this night is long indeed. So long, in fact, that one cannot help but wish they might swiftly pass through it, and see our fugitives safe on the other side.

“So this is how it has come to be…”
By now, Guan Changsheng and Hu Qingyue were settled in the household of Master Hu Bin. Little Ping had been sent off to the care of maids and nurses, leaving the elders alone to discuss the heavy matters at hand without interruption.
Changsheng knelt upon the floor, his head bowed so low he dared not lift his gaze to the man who was both his teacher and his father-in-law. There was no nervous sweat upon him—only the cold chill of a body that felt half-dead, and a heart squeezed until it ached.
“Master…” His voice was barely more than a whisper, frail and drained of all strength. “Do not trouble yourself with me. Send me away to face punishment.”
“Guan Yu…” Master Hu Bin reached out, lifting his son-in-law’s face so that their eyes met. “How could I do such a thing? You are like a son to me. What you did may be sin by the tenets of my faith… but if someone had come to harm Ah-Qing, even I might not have been able to restrain myself any more than you.”
Hu Qingyue, seated beside them, looked upon her father with tears streaming down her face. Both hands clutched at his arm as if pleading with him wordlessly. Hu Bin turned his gaze to his daughter with a faint smile, releasing his hold on Changsheng’s face so he could gently stroke her head.
“I promise you… while he must be away, I will look after Ah-Qing and Ah-Ping myself.”
“Away…?” Her eyes wavered instantly at that word. “Where is Guan-ge going?”
“Not for long, Ah-Qing,” Hu Bin lifted his chin slightly, his eyes cast toward the night sky as he let out a heavy sigh.
“Guan Yu cannot remain in Hedong. Hiding him here in our household forever is impossible. The only path left to us, short of sending him to face judgment… is to send him elsewhere.”
At those words, Ah-Qing let out a piercing scream that shook the household. She collapsed onto the couch, striking her chest and clawing at herself until both father and husband rushed to restrain her.
“NO!!! I WON’T ALLOW IT! I WON’T LET HIM GO ANYWHERE!!!”
“Ah-Qing! My child, do not harm yourself like this!”
“Ah-Qing! Please, stop! Enough!”
“I have only you! Only you, Guan-ge!” Ah-Qing sobbed, her body trembling. “If you must go, then take me and our child with you! Was it not you who once said, ‘To share joy, to withstand sorrow’? If you would not abandon me, then I will not abandon you! I… I will not live in comfort if it means living without you!”
“And I would find no happiness if you were in vain!”
Changsheng roared back, shaking her arm once so sharply that she froze in shock. Even Hu Bin seemed startled to see his disciple and son-in-law—show such fierceness.
Changsheng drew in a deep breath to steady himself, then spoke again:
“The love we share, the bond that aids us in hardship… does not require us to always remain side by side. So long as we do not forget each other, that is enough.”
“Yes… you speak the truth.” Hu Bin folded his arms, nodding lightly, a faint trace of pride flickering in his eyes.

Hu Qingyue fell silent for a moment, then rose and walked out of the sitting room. She returned to her old bedchamber—the room she had slept in since childhood, and the very place where she and her beloved had once shared a pillow when he brought her back to visit her father.
Her trembling hands brushed over the mat and bedding, and with that touch, a flood of memories surged back, until tears spilled anew from her eyes.
“In a past life… Did I steal another woman’s husband?” she murmured to herself. “Is that why I must suffer this fate now… to be torn apart from the husband I love? Why… why must it be so?”
With that, she collapsed upon the bed, pressing her tear-streaked face into the pillow until it was soaked through. And there she surrendered herself to the sea of sorrow, drowning in the cries of her shattered heart… the heart of a woman who, for the first time in her life, had come face to face with such unbearable grief.
She wept for so long that at times she fancied the entire city of Hedong might well have been flooded by her tears. Only the warm touch that traced gently from her head to her shoulders, and the soft babbling of an infant, roused her at last from the abyss of despair.
“Ah… ah…”
Ah-Ping was the first thing she saw. The child had been set down beside his mother’s head; his tiny hand reached out to touch her tear-stained cheek.
With innocent eyes, he gazed at her and broke into a smile as he patted her face again and again.
“I feared you would be lonely, so I brought our son to you.”
Ah-Qing turned her eyes past the child’s shoulder—and there, at the foot of the bed, sat the familiar figure she knew so well. In that instant she realized: the warmth she felt came from the hand of Changsheng himself.
Hu Bin’s Daughter turned her gaze away from him, lying on her side to let her beloved son continue patting her face as if to soothe her sulking. No tears fell now, but they brimmed in both eyes, shimmering unstoppably. The cherry blossom lips that once curved so beautifully in laughter were now pressed into a tight line, soured by grievance and by fear.
She felt aggrieved with her father—for being the one to decree that her husband must flee alone, leaving her and their child behind.
And she felt afraid—that he might vanish from her life, whether still living and claimed by another woman, or gone altogether into that other world from which no living soul could ever return.
Either way… it was pain unbearable for a woman in an age of wilderness and war, where survival itself still depended on the strength of men.
The soft rustling on the bedding, the dip of the mattress on one side, and then the embrace of strong arms slipping around her from behind—slowly, the air in the room began to still. Changsheng pressed his face against the nape of Hu Qingyue’s neck, planting a gentle kiss there as if to etch into memory her sweet fragrance, fearful that he might lose it when fate dragged them apart into a future beyond his reach.
“I will never forget you… but you—will you forget me?”
“No… never. How could I forget the man who is both my husband and the father of little Ping?”
The night stretched on, long and endless, until the lord of the heavens would rise once more at dawn—until the day of parting, chosen in the name of protection, would come. Yet on this night, the three of them—father, mother, and child—still lay together upon that humble wooden bed in the quiet little room, lit only by the faint glow of a dying lamp. A glow as fragile, as flickering, as the hope within human hearts… hearts that are granted only a handful of years to taste true happiness.

On the winding path leading out from the city of Hedong, cutting through dense and tangled forests, there walked a young man. He was clothed in coarse green garments and wore upon his head a hat of foreign shape, walking onward along a road whose end he could not yet see.
He did not look back at what lay behind, as though everything he had once seen, once known, and every soul he had ever met were nothing more than a midsummer night’s dream—ended, gone, never to return. Just like the bright and tender youth that was now forever left behind.

O ye, O all who hear my words,
bear witness with me, together, that…

Here, in this crimson-stained night, “Changsheng”—the man who once bore the name of Long Life has died without return.
And “Yunchang” (雲長) — the Long Cloud, the mist that stretches far and unbroken has now been born!

[END OF “THE YOUTH ARC”]
(But their journey… still goes on.)

Chapter Text

Merchant: “You black cat! You’ve spent too long just eating, sleeping, playing, and lazing around!”
Official’s wife: “The story isn’t finished, is it?! Just last night you told us you’d continue after we all went about our errands. Now we’re back, and all you say is ‘later, later’—what do you mean by that?!”
Dancer: “Tell it now! Tell it now!!!” (rushes over and shakes the cat furiously)
Ah! Ladies, don’t be so rough with me! Fine, fine—I’ll tell it now! Oh… much better.

So then, the tale of Guan Yu’s flight from Hedong… oh, no, I won’t tell that! It would only waste time. Instead, let me skip ahead about two years (A.D. 184), and take you to another place…
A small yet bustling city… named Zhuo Commandery.
My friends, this northern frontier town of China in those days was the hometown of one particular man.
To his admirers in later generations, he was praised as the great hero who sought to restore the Han.
To his detractors, he was mocked as a weepy schemer, fickle and untrustworthy. Yes, that man we had already encountered at Chang’an.
That elder brother… the one named “Liu Xuande”.

From what I’ve heard, Xuande was not such a wicked person in his youth. He was eager to learn and improve himself, though perhaps fate or his own temperament—made him a “dull-witted” student, unable to advance far in study despite years of effort.
Still, with his naturally pleasing looks, his gentle manners, and his soft-spoken words, the young Liu was more than enough to attract those who saw him. Like the moon casting a cool, soothing light, always surrounded by countless stars, different from the blazing sun whose fiery heat repels all.
At this time, the young Liu, carrying his load of mats and straw sandals, had just passed through the city gates to peddle his wares. His narrow, long eyes glanced sideways at the crowd gathering before a wooden board posted at the gate. Curious, he stepped closer.
“The authorities are calling for volunteers to fight the Yellow Turbans?” someone said.
“How exciting! I’m twenty-five, strong, not sickly, not crippled. If I ask my parents, I’ll join to save the country!” cried another, hand raised high.
“Then I’ll go too!” shouted yet another.
The air was full of noisy voices, the crowd packed shoulder to shoulder. And there, upon the stage of life, the leading actors of a new play began to appear, one by one.
First, the youth of the Liu household, staring at the notice, then bowing his head with a sigh of sorrow.
Not far from him stood another: a dark-skinned youth with a scar across his face, clearly hardened by past trials. His rough, brash manner marked him as a hot-blooded ruffian, yet his fine clothes revealed he came from a well-off family in the area.
The scarred youth turned sharply at the sound of that sigh. His large, leopard-like eyes glinted green as he snapped:
“Hah! A manly man, yet only sighs instead of fighting for the nation? Boring!”
Xuande said nothing in reply, only hoisted his load and walked into the city alone. The dark-faced youth stomped off in another direction, going about his own affairs.
And then… another actor stepped onto the stage of this circling, ever-turning wheel of fate.
A young man reborn in the same body, now grown beyond his former years.
A young man who had left behind a broken home and those he loved.
A young man—the true protagonist of the tale I now tell you…
Everyone around the storyteller shouts in unison: “Our hero! Lord Guan Yu!”
Ah yes, indeed—it is he.

Guan Yu, now bearing a new style name: Yunchang—“the Cloud that Drifts Far from Hedong.” No longer the beardless youth, but a sturdy man of twenty-two. His once-smooth face was now covered in thick, coarse beard, making him appear nearly thirty. But, I say… this only added to his charm! Meow~
Since the day he fled Hedong after killing the county magistrate’s son who sought to slaughter his family three years before, the style name Changsheng had died with him. This new style name was a gift from his teacher and father-in-law, Hu Bin.
“Go farther than here, but never forget your roots. Be as rainclouds that bring cool refreshment, not as mists that spread fear… This is the blessing I give you before we part.”
Those words still echoed in the mind of the red-faced youth with the black beard, like an edict carved into destiny, pushing him to keep struggling forward in this world.
Yunchang pushed a cart piled with goods into Zhuo, speaking to no one, meeting no one’s eyes, his mind working like a machine focused only on completing each task before resting at night.
Hmph, his trade? Oh, not just selling beans, my friends! I’ve heard that at that time, Yunchang changed jobs often—once working as a clerk calculating taxes at a checkpoint, another time as a blacksmith’s assistant, and many other odd trades I can scarcely recall.
Heh! Who says only women suffer hardships? I tell you, whether man or woman, life is full of hardship. Perhaps the only real rest is when one sleeps inside a coffin!

That day, Yunchang left his cart in front of a tavern, planning to eat before hawking his wares. It was then that he overheard a conversation—between two men whose destinies would soon intertwine with his own.
“Brother, what is your name?”
“My surname is Liu, personal name Bei, style name Xuande…”
“I am Zhang, given name Fei, style name Yide!”
“Wait, didn’t you say you were seventeen, almost eighteen?”
“Bah! I misspoke! This year I’m nineteen, truly!”
That simple exchange between the fair-skinned youth and the dark-faced one stirred something deep within Yunchang’s heart. Though he thought himself unworthy of serving the country—having once killed a man , now felt the old flame in his heart rekindled.
He did not approach the pair. Instead, he walked into the tavern, sat down, and spoke in a low yet clear voice that carried through the room, drawing all eyes upon him:
“Bring me a measure of wine at once. Once I have drunk, I will go defend the realm.”
Liu Xuande and Zhang Fei were likely the first to turn their heads toward him. Both men felt an aura in the air, a presence indescribable in words, raising gooseflesh on their arms.
Liu Xuande studied the man, unable to recall this as the boy only a year younger whom he had once seen at Chang’an. All he felt was a vague familiarity… and a strange admiration.
A face red as ripe jujube, lips crimson as cinnabar, brows like silken moths, eyes long as a red phoenix’s. His bearing was noble and heroic, unlike any other. His beard was not yet two chi long, yet already he bore the signs of becoming a bearded hero.
As for young Zhang Fei, at seventeen (though lying that he was nineteen), he too failed to recognize this man as the one from Chang’an. Yet his heart beat fast and his palms grew warm whenever his eyes fell upon him.
“Brother… I want to speak with him,” Zhang Fei whispered nervously.
“And does he wish to speak with you?” Xuande asked. “I may not mind if you start a loud conversation, but he may.”
“Bah! Brother, you’re no fun! Forget it! I’ll go order my butchers about at the meat stall instead!”
With that, Zhang Fei stomped off, like a child weary of being lectured, leaving Xuande alone in the tavern, sighing at the wild colt behavior of his younger brother.

Ah, now we arrive at the most exciting part! The moment when the three young men, the three surnames, are finally to meet in truth!
Everyone: “Yay~!!!”
It was late afternoon in Zhuo Commandery. The marketplace bustled as ever, showing no signs of slowing. Yet in one corner, a crowd had gathered so thickly that the place seemed about to burst.
“Hear me well!” cried the overseer of the butcher’s stall, pointing to the stone slab that covered the well beside them. “My master declares: whoever can lift this millstone shall win all the meat in this well—free of charge!”
At once the crowd erupted.
“Impossible! Who could lift something that size?!”
“Ah, no chance for me.”
“Surely no one.”
“Who could match the strength of young master Zhang of Zhuo? I can’t think of anyone.”
A single hand, broad and strong, came to rest upon the overseer’s shoulder. He jolted in fright, nearly shrieking. And when he turned to see the man behind him, he almost fainted on the spot.
“Dear brother…” said Yunchang, his voice cold. “What your master proclaimed, was it true? That whoever lifts the stone may claim the meat?”
“Y-yes… it’s true, sir,” the overseer stammered.
“Then your master shall lose dearly today.” Yunchang smiled faintly, confidently, stroking his beard with ease.
The butcher’s aide puffed up some courage and muttered back: “Heh, just don’t boast if you can’t do it. We’re not afraid of losing meat—we only fear the stone won’t budge!”
The crowd roared in challenge, urging the stranger to try.
‘Hmph. I am no braggart, ' Guan Yunchang thought, though he spoke not a word. He merely brushed the man aside with a light push, striding to the stone well, placing both hands firmly upon the millstone.
‘Inhale, calm and deep… Exhale, swift and strong.’
When his breath aligned, the inner current of his strength surged. And lo…the weight of the stone caused him no pain nor strain. Just a few seconds he lifted it above his head, as if it were lighter than a tuft of cotton!
Behold, my friends! This was the fruit of a body born with natural strength, now married to the breath-discipline his teacher and father-in-law had taught him. Training had blossomed into power beyond the common man, beyond even what he was when called Changsheng.
The crowd stood dumbstruck. The overseer trembled as though to run—until the man holding the stone barked: “Where shall I put it?!”
Oh, imagine it! Though his shout was not as loud as Yide’s roar, still it was no less fearsome than the howl of a wolf beside the cry of a tiger!
“J-just p-put it back where it was!”
Thud!!!
The millstone crashed down, the earth shivering beneath it. The overseer turned to bolt, but froze again at the thunderous voice:
“Stop!”
“Ah! B…B…Brave wayfarer, what may I do for you?” The man now groveled, his bravado spent.
Yunchang pointed at the well. “Bring out the pork. Cut it up. Share it among the people.”
“Eh? Share it with everyone?”
“The meat is mine. If I say share, then share!”
So it was. The pork was hauled up and divided among the folk—especially the poor and downtrodden. Yet, amid this scene of just distribution, two men tried to snatch their share though they clearly had coin enough.
Of course , could our hero fail to notice? He stepped forward, pressing his hand down upon the hand of one such man reaching for meat, staring straight into both their eyes.
“Wait. You came to buy pork, did you not? Then pay.”
“What? Others took it freely, why not me?” the man quavered, until the weight upon his hand grew heavier and heavier.
“Ow! Ow! Ow! Fine, fine, I’ll pay! I’ll pay!”
Laughter and cheers rang out as Yunchang accepted the coins, then scattered them upon the ground, sending the crowd scrambling.
And all this was seen by a certain man across the market—Liu Xuande, seller of mats and sandals. His eyes shone as though he had found a gem in a wasteland, his heart urging him toward the bearded stranger.
For what purpose? None could yet know.

As evening drew near and the market thinned, Yunchang returned to his cart. He set down sacks of beans and grains beside his mat, intending to wait for customers as usual.
Until… who should stop at his stall but the stand’s owner himself, Zhang Fei!
“Fine green beans… will you buy, sir?” Yunchang asked coldly.
Zhang Fei only chuckled, reached into the sack, and crushed a handful of beans to dust with his bare hand. Tossing the powder aside, he growled: “Green beans? This is bean dust! Rotten beans, trash!”
“If you will not buy,” Yunchang replied, voice calm yet edged, “then step aside.”
“Oh ho! Stingy over a few beans? Yet you gave pork away like a king—what sort of thinking is that?!”
It was in that instant Liu Xuande understood: the moment the green-hatted bearded man asked, “Do you seek a fight?” and the dark-faced youth tore off his outer robe, fists clenched…
He knew. The clash between the two men he longed to befriend for the sake of his great cause…was about to begin.

Chapter Text

Whoosh! Thud! Crash!!!
The sound of goods shattering, bodies hitting the ground, and the pounding of fists, elbows, and knees echoed throughout the marketplace. It mixed with the cries and shouts of the townsfolk who had gathered to watch the fierce clash between two young men of different surnames, whose fates were bound together for life.
The fight began with the butcher’s stand owner, Zhang Fei, throwing a punch at Guan Yunchang. Yunchang, quicker on his feet, dodged and seized Zhang Fei’s arm, dragging him into a heap of nearby wares before pressing him down so he couldn’t break free.
Yet, perhaps because Zhang Fei was still in his youth, his strength had not yet waned. He forced his way up, shoving the red-faced, black-bearded man aside. Once he regained his footing, he charged at Yunchang again.
Amid the chaos of the crowd—jostled and nearly toppled , stood Liu Xuande. His eyes never left the two men grappling with all their might. Awe and delight shone in his gaze.
‘Yes… yes, it is so… it truly is!’

The man from the Guan household leapt onto the balcony of a building, with the young master of the Zhang family charging after him. Just as the red-faced man swung his hand down to strike his pursuer’s arm, the boy ducked aside in time. What followed was a brief chase of leaps and dodges, ending only when Zhang Fei planted himself firmly on another path, fixing his eyes on the older man without wavering.
Guan Yunchang turned, stroking his beard with a smirk of amusement—as though pleased by the mischief of teasing a child. Then he quietly bent down to lift a sack onto his cart. Yet the young Zhang would not let the matter end so easily.
“YAAAHHHHH!” The young Zhang lunged again, only to freeze when the other man caught his arm without even looking. An elbow jab drove the breath from Zhang Fei’s chest, and in that instant, a memory from the past flashed before his eyes.
That same older stranger using his elbow to fend off bandits at Chang’an.
The moment overlapped so perfectly with what was happening now that Zhang Fei’s eyes widened. One glance at the bearded face of Guan Yunchang was enough for him to begin piecing it together. But there was no time for questions in the midst of combat. His opponent’s leg swept at him two, three times, and their clash continued, fists and feet hammering like tigers battling for their ground.
Heaven, however, showed mercy. What began as an exchange of fists, elbows, and knees turned into a desperate grapple, two beasts entangled as if locked in a primal struggle. To the crowd, it was a spectacle to feast their eyes upon. But to the young butcher’s son, this was the chance he had been waiting for.
“You… you’re the big brother who fought off those bandits at Chang’an, aren’t you?” Yide gasped out, his voice rasping under the chokehold, though his impish grin refused to fade.
“What…?” Yunchang faltered, unsure if it was a trick or a genuine question from his opponent.
“That elbow strike…I’d never mistake it,” Zhang Fei barked a laugh. “But you…you probably don’t remember me, with this scar across my face.”

Amidst the chaos and din, none heard the hushed voices exchanged between the two young men. Only Liu Xuande, watching intently, pieced together his thoughts little by little… little by little.
‘To accomplish great deeds… these two shall be my indispensable strength.’
Thud!
The dark-faced youth shoved the red-faced man away, raising both fists again. Yet this time, his tiger-like eyes gleamed not only with ferocity but also with admiration.
‘This elder brother’s skill is no trifling matter…’
And Yunchang himself, muscles taut and ready for the next strike, felt much the same.
‘This boy… truly a peerless fighter.’
For but a brief moment they clashed with all their might, neither yielding an inch. Just as both swung to strike each other’s face, an unexpected warmth pressed against their wrists—hands clasping firmly, halting the blows before they could land.
Zhang Fei knew at once whose hand it was. Guan Yunchang, meanwhile, felt a shiver run through him, as if a long-buried memory had been stirred. That familiar presence, that same feeling from Chang’an—when he turned to look at the one who now stood between them, all became clear.
A face pale as jade. Eyes long and fine. Ears slightly broad. And that strange aura of warmth that seemed to embrace the very air. He remembered now.
‘That elder brother… is it truly him?’

“I am Liu Xuande. And you are?”
“I… I am Guan Yu. Eighteen years of age, yet to receive a courtesy name.”
“Ah! Then you’re a year younger than I am!”

Those words—together with the sight of nineteen-year-old Xuande, offering a straw hat and a smile as radiant as a dream, transported Yunchang, twenty-two, back to the boy he had been at eighteen in Chang’an. His heart swelled, beyond the grasp of words. Had he not been standing in the middle of the market, bound by the pride of manhood, he might have let tears fall freely from the depth of that feeling.
The fight was over, though the marketplace was no less restless. While the townsfolk still clustered, whispering and pointing, the three men stood in silence, gazes locked upon one another. It was as though the world itself had fallen away, leaving only the three of them within it.

Raindrops pattered softly in the twilight hour, cooling the air that had been sweltering only moments before. Though the sudden shower might have disappointed the children who could no longer play outside, and the housewives whose laundry was left damp on the line, the world itself felt refreshed.
“What a pity…it’s raining now. I was just about to take a dip in the river,” grumbled Zhang Fei, sitting with his knees drawn up and rocking side to side like a sulking child.
“You’re nearly twenty, and you still talk about splashing around like a boy?” Guan Yunchang narrowed his eyes suspiciously, causing the other to flinch.
“I am nineteen, really! But still—come on, can’t a young man like me enjoy a bit of play?”
“Don’t believe him,” Liu Xuande cut in as he stepped closer, his expression calm and unreadable. His gaze fell upon the young butcher’s stand owner. “Young master Zhang of Zhuo Commandery… you are only eighteen years old.”
“Brother, ugh! No fair!” Zhang Fei cried out, collapsing onto the floor in exaggerated despair. “Blast it! Those loose-tongued servants, when I find them, I’ll stripe their backs till they learn!”
The man of Liu and the man of Guan exchanged glances and both shook their heads lightly, as though sharing the same thought:
‘And this… is the fellow who wants to save the realm from the Yellow Turbans? He hasn’t even reached nineteen or twenty yet!’

“But say…” Guan Yunchang suddenly asked, without knowing why the question had risen to his lips. “That scar on your face, how did you get it?”
Silence. No answer came at first. Zhang Fei froze, his whining cut short. He pushed himself up, arms crossed loosely, and the once-fierce tigerish glint in his eyes softened into something more fragile—like a kitten trembling before a storm.
“Mm… it was then,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he summoned memories he would rather have buried, yet could not avoid. “Five years ago, when my family went trading in Chang’an, we stayed the night at an inn… and then the bandits came.”
The air within the Zhang household, already cool from the evening drizzle, grew colder still as his tale unfolded.
“They slaughtered my father, my mother, and all my siblings—every one of them. Only I survived.” The dark-faced youth lifted a hand, tracing the scar that cut across his cheek. “Had that blade gone a little deeper… this eye would have been lost as well.”
“Oh, heavens…” Liu Xuande murmured, clutching his chest. Beside him, Guan Yunchang slipped a hand into his sleeve and drew out something he gazed upon for a long while, long enough that even the dark-faced youth noticed. The sorrow in Zhang Fei’s heart ebbed away, replaced instead by the raw curiosity.
“Elder brother… what is that?”

The bearded man stiffened when the boy reached out to touch the two little silk pouches. He recoiled, clutching them close to his chest as if they were his most treasured possession. But the more he guarded them, the more Zhang Fei pestered, insisting to have a look.
“I won’t steal them, I promise! Don’t be so stingy, brother~”
“If it were anyone else… I’d fight to the death before letting go,” Yunchang sighed at last, loosening his grip. “But since we are now friends… here, see for yourself.”
The young Zhang accepted the pouches with delight, carefully untying the cords one by one. When he tipped them out into his palm, both he and Xuande were struck with immediate wonder.
“Hair…?” He blinked in puzzlement.
“The strands from the red pouch—surely they belong to someone older, and look, they’re a bit curled, not straight like ours,” Xuande surmised, narrowing his eyes as he studied them. Then his gaze shifted to the tiny lock of hair from the faded-blue pouch. “And this one… without a doubt, a child’s.”
“The first lock is from my wife…” Yunchang said at last. “And the other… from my son.”
Zhang Fei’s eyes went wide. “What?! Brother, you already have a wife and child?”
“Aye.” He nodded, then recounted the past in brief, his voice low and heavy.
“I was but a wanderer… forced to flee after killing the magistrate’s son. That cur not only oppressed the people of Hedong, he and his gang came to plunder my home. They accused my parents of harboring bandits, then cast them into a well to drown. And afterward… he tried to lay hands upon my wife—who was still nursing our infant.”
Yunchang drew a deep breath, his words falling like stones. “For such a deed, I struck him down. Yet for killing a magistrate’s son, what chance is left for me to serve this land? To men like me, there is no place in the world of heroes… only the mark of a murderer.”
“Bah! Killing villains—what of it?!” Zhang Fei barked back, slamming his fist down with youthful fury. “If I had my way, I’d cut down every wretch in the empire, till none remained! Curse them all!”
For a moment, the man of Guan raised his cup of wine, drank, and set it down again. This time, his gaze shone with firm resolve.
“Indeed… this morning I saw the government’s notice recruiting volunteer soldiers. I intend to enlist and fight against those bandit scoundrels,” Yunchang declared steadily. “If I can live—or die—with the honor of a true man, then I shall have no regrets!”
“Good!” The young Zhang leapt up to pour him another cup, both as the courtesy of a host and with the excitement of a younger brother. “That’s how a man ought to be! In that case, I’ll sign up with you!”
“Hm? But you’ve not yet reached nineteen…” Yunchang teased.
“Then I’ll cheat my age! No one will ever find out!”
At that instant, Yunchang burst out laughing, and Zhang Fei joined him. Whatever strangeness had lingered between once-strangers now melted away entirely. Only Xuande remained silent, his lips pressed, his eyes unreadable—until at last both men turned toward him.
“And what about you?” Zhang Fei asked. “Will you come with us or not?”
The man of Liu studied them for a long while before letting out a quiet sigh, offering no words in reply. The silence pricked at the younger Zhang, who scowled in frustration.
“There you go sighing again! Is serving the country such a burden to you?!”
The youth of Liu rose from his seat and began to pace slowly. Then he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of lineage long forgotten by most.

“There is yet a man… born of a family unlike any other. His forebear was the Prince of Zhongshan, and that prince himself was the seventh son of Emperor Jing of Han.”
The bearded man and the dark-faced youth both turned their eyes upon Liu Xuande at once. In their gaze shone the same light as children entranced by a tale told at the fireside, eager for the next words to unfold.
“But because the tribute owed to the imperial court was not delivered in full…” Liu Xuande paused, eyes narrowing as he let out a faint sigh before continuing. “They were stripped of their noble rank, reduced to commoners. Their descendants too became commoners, and they resettled in Lousang Village, in Zhuo Commandery.”
“Lousang Village!” Zhang Fei slapped his knee in astonishment upon hearing the name. “I’ve heard of that place! They say there stands a thousand-year-old mulberry tree, from which the village takes its name. And… there’s a prophecy, that a man of great destiny shall be born there!”
Xuande smiled faintly and gave a small nod. “Yes. I too have heard that prophecy… Yet now, in the eighteenth generation, the descendants have dwindled into poverty and misery. A pitiful thing indeed.” His voice trembled as though it might break, and the two who listened felt the change in his bearing.
“Then why has this man not tried to restore his station, for the honor of his forebears?” Yunchang’s question cut like a blade to Xuande’s heart.
“He began studying at the age of fifteen, hoping that one day he might repay the nation and bring peace to the people…” Xuande sighed again, speaking on with a voice shaken by shame, his eyes brimming with tears. “But now, at twenty-three years of age, that man… has not yet achieved a single success!”
Zhang Fei clenched his fists, blurting out in urgency, “And who is this man you speak of? Tell us at once!”
Though Yunchang held his tongue, his phoenix-like eyes gleamed with an even keener hunger for the answer.

“I will hide it no longer…” Xuande halted in his pacing. He turned toward them, gaze steady and cold as winter frost. “That man… is none other than myself.”
“Oh…” Guan Yunchang sank to the ground, his posture softening as though a commoner were bowing before a prince of the blood. “Then why… why did you not say so from the start?”
As for Zhang Yide, he scrambled forward on his knees, clutching Xuande’s legs, tears streaming as though he had found a precious gem hidden in the mire. “So the man of destiny stands before me! Brother! Tell me, what would you have Zhang Yide do?”
Xuande lowered his eyes, answering like a man with no clear path before him. “I too have thought of gathering the brave to rise against the rebels… yet I lack the wealth to sustain it—”
“Heaven has already shown you mercy! Here!” The young Zhang burst out laughing, thumping his chest with unshakable confidence. “I am both butcher and tavern-keeper, with wealth enough in my coffers! Whatever you need, I will share it! What is mine, I count as my elder brother’s as well!”
“You… you speak in earnest?” The pale-faced youth with broad ears looked uncertainly at the younger man.
“Of course! Though I’m not yet twenty, Zhang Yide has never spoken in jest!”
With that, Zhang Fei laughed uproariously, raising his wine cup to clash against Xuande’s, sealing their bond in spirited affirmation.
Meanwhile, Yunchang watched them both for a long moment, his thoughts turning inward.
‘I too am the son of a fallen house, once dreaming of office, a dream shattered when I slew a wicked man to protect the wife and child I loved more than life. Wealth is no longer mine as it once was…’
‘All that remains to Guan Yu is this body’s strength, a little wisdom, and a heart that cherishes the land and its good people.’
“If the two of you will not scorn me… then let me pledge myself to join you as well!”

Before long, the three had drawn close together, with Xuande standing alone while Guan Yu and Zhang Yide sat flanking him on either side. The gazes of the two, seated at his very feet, turned upon the man of imperial blood as though he were a god descended to earth.
“You are like those who bring firewood in the cold of winter—true-hearted, as dearest friends…” The man of Liu could speak no further before he sank to his knees, bowing low. “I beg you, accept my humble respects.”
“Brother! Don’t do this, you mustn’t!” cried Zhang Fei, rushing to lift him in haste.
“Brother, such courtesy is far too great!” For the first time, the man named Guan Yu addressed Liu Xuande as Brother, as he too reached out to raise him up.
Xuande smiled—a smile mingled with tears, as he looked upon the faces of the two who now stood as his “brothers.” His heart swelled like foam upon the boundless sea.
“I have longed to accomplish great deeds, longed to find companions of the same will. I have searched so long… and today, Heaven shows mercy at last! For in this mound of sand, I have found true gold—you two, my brothers!”
Zhang Fei fell to his knees, hands clasped in solemn respect. “Elder Brother! I say… let the three of us swear to be brothers together! Three hearts joined as one—then even yellow earth may be turned into gold. With you as our elder, I believe your great cause shall surely succeed!”
Guan Yunchang knelt and bowed deeply. “I am but a common man of the martial path, upholding loyalty and righteousness above all. The ancients said: ‘A fine bird chooses the branch upon which it will roost; a wise man chooses the lord he will serve.’ From this day forth, Guan Yu has you as his elder. I pledge my life into your keeping—your word shall be my law, and I shall uphold it unto death. Elder Brother, be at peace!”
The heavens poured down rain, yet no lightning struck. Only the distant rumble of thunder rolled across the sky ,like drums and bells resounding in celebration of an oath soon to be sworn…
The Oath in the Peach Garden of three men, three surnames, who by fate’s weaving had come together upon the stage of this vast cycle—binding their destinies from this moment forth… until the very end of days.

O spirits divine, forebears revered,
If you still dwell, then draw you near.
Come now to witness, to hear our plea,
The vow of us brothers—men brave and free.

Though three we are, of three surnames born,
Not kin by blood, but by fate we’re sworn.
And should grim death upon us descend,
One year, one month—together we end.

With hearts as one, we pledge our stand,
In loyal service to home and land.
But if our oath be broken one day,
Let Heaven and Earth cast us away!

Chapter Text

Let us fast-forward a little in time—just a few months after our three sworn brothers sealed their oath. They had since gathered five hundred followers and enlisted as a volunteer corps under the command of Captain Zou Jing.
“Alright! Listen well, you lads!” Captain Zou Jing bellowed to the gathered volunteers. “Who among you can tell me how to distinguish the Yellow Turban rebels from ordinary folk?!”
“The rebels do not wear the topknot,” Liu Xuande answered, his voice not loud but steady. “They let their hair down and wrap their heads with yellow cloth.”
“Their creed proclaims, ‘The Azure Heaven has perished! The Yellow Heaven shall rise in its stead!’” Guan Yunchang continued calmly, yet with the confidence of one who knew.
“If they aren’t out raiding, they’ll send men around claiming to heal the sick, tricking people into joining their cult,” Zhang Yide added with vigor, recalling from his childhood. “Other than the medicines, it’s all so-called miracles—nothing but lies, if you ask me!”
Captain Zou Jing regarded the three of them with a look of admiration. Spreading his arm toward them, he addressed the rest of the volunteers: “Take heed of these three squad leaders—these are the men who will lead you to victory!”
He pointed his sword toward the distance. “I have received word: the rebel commander before us is named Cheng Yuanzhi. He has brought fifty thousand men, encamped outside Zhuo Commandery. Our mission—take him alive, or cut him down!”
“Captain!” The youngest of the sworn brothers, Zhang Yide, raised his hand with boyish excitement. “Shall we march out this very moment? I and all the men can hardly wait to fight!”
“Er-di… why does San-di act like such a child?” Liu Xuande muttered under his breath.
Guan Yunchang sighed, shaking his head. “Keep it down, Da-ge. Best not let anyone find out he’s not really nineteen…”
In time, the five hundred volunteers under Liu Xuande marched behind the other groups who had gathered under Captain Zou Jing’s banner. The road ahead, barren and desolate at first, grew more dreadful the farther they advanced: the stench of blood thickened, corpses lay scattered, and the sky above swirled with vultures and crows, circling hungrily over the fallen below.
Some of the volunteers could not stomach the sight—retching as they walked. Others trembled in fear. Even the boldest among them, the hot-blooded eighteen-year-old Zhang Yide, felt a pang of dread at this new world aflame with war.
Only the man of the Liu clan and the man of the Guan clan kept their gazes firmly ahead, steady and unshaken by the horrors around them.
“Ughhh… I just want this battle to be over so I can take a bath~” Zhang Yide muttered under his breath.
“What’s this? Going soft , pampered boy?” Guan Yunchang teased.
“Er-ge!” Zhang Yide whipped his head around, glaring. “I’m not soft! It’s just…the stink of blood and grime won’t wash off easily, you know?!”
“Enough, both of you,” Liu Xuande cut in, exasperated. He half-squinted, sighing to himself: ‘Am I here to fight a war… or to babysit children?’

At one moment, Liu Xuande’s eyes caught something unusual. Instinct guided his voice to shout, his hand pointing straight ahead:
“Captain! They’re right there!”
“Well now! Sharp eyes, you long-eared lad! Alright, everyone halt!” At Zou Jing’s command, the entire column stopped at once—even the horsemen pulled their reins.
And there, before their eyes, lay the rebel army of the Yellow Turbans led by Cheng Yuanzhi. At his side stood Deng Mao, and around them—just as Zou Jing had warned—was a sea of soldiers, fifty thousand strong.
‘This is it!’
“Ah—hey! Boy! Don’t charge in there! Stop—ah, damn it! Now your brothers are after you too!” Zou Jing’s cry came too late.
The three brothers spurred their horses and thundered straight toward the enemy—reckless, yes, but also the very sort of daring act our heroes were destined to make.
The three brothers reined in their horses before the rebel host, their eyes burning with no trace of fear. Yet in the eyes of the enemy, they seemed no more than fledgling cubs—prey ripe for the jaws of hyenas waiting to tear them apart.
“Who are you?!” Cheng Yuanzhi roared across the lines.
Liu Xuande did not answer. Instead, his eyes blazed wide as he raised his sword, pointing it straight at Cheng Yuanzhi, and thundered with a voice that shook the air:
“Rebel scum!!!”
That single cry stunned all who heard it—the rebels, the volunteers, and even his two sworn brothers. None had expected that this quiet young man, pale-skinned and slender of form, usually so reserved and soft-spoken, would reveal such fearless courage.

“Why, you brat… who are you calling that?!” Cheng Yuanzhi clenched his fists in fury.
“Who else but you?!” Liu Xuande roared back. “I’ll give you one chance—surrender now! Or else fight to the death!”
“Master! Allow me to take his head!” Deng Mao stepped forward, spurring his horse and lunging at Xuande. Instinct drove Zhang Yide to surge ahead, his horse racing forward, saber gripped tight in his hand.
“Da-ge, fall back! I’ll take him on!”
“San-di, be careful!” Xuande and Yunchang cried out together, their voices taut with urgency.
“You black-faced brat! Come and die!” Deng Mao bellowed, thrusting his spear straight at Zhang Yide.
But the young warrior twisted aside, dodging the strike by a hair’s breadth. With a sudden tug on the reins, his horse veered as if in retreat.
Deng Mao, seeing this, smirked—thinking the boy had lost his nerve and gave a furious chase. He had no idea he had already fallen into a trap.
“Where do you think you’re running? Yield and die!”
‘Hah! Not a chance!’ Zhang Yide grinned wide, his sharp white teeth gleaming as his plan came to fruition. He reined his horse hard, wheeled around in a flash, and charged back, swift that Deng Mao had no time to raise his guard. Not even a heartbeat of hesitation was left to him.
SWISH—!
With a single stroke, Deng Mao’s head was sent flying, tumbling across the dirt.
The gruesome sight shattered the rebels’ morale at once. Even Cheng Yuanzhi himself, struck dumb at seeing his trusted lieutenant fall so swiftly, felt his own courage collapse within him.
Cheng Yuanzhi was the first to spur his horse and flee, while the rest of the rebels scattered in terror, each for his own life. Captain Zou Jing, seeing this, broke into a grin and shouted,
“Volunteers, forward—charge!!!”
At once the air thundered with war drums and the triumphant cries of men, as the outnumbered rebels were driven into a desperate rout.
“After him! Don’t let him escape!!!” Liu Xuande pointed his sword toward Cheng Yuanzhi, his horse surging ahead. His younger brothers flanked him on either side, their steeds pounding the earth in unison.
Soon enough, the two younger brothers pressed their mounts faster, drawing ahead.
“Da-ge, San-di and I will bring him down!” Yunchang called back over the clash of hooves, then turned to his younger brother: “San-di, ride with me!”
“Right behind you, Er-ge!” Zhang Yide roared, tightening his grip on his saber.

The two young men pressed their steeds hard, drawing farther and farther from their elder brother. Both believed that whether they took the enemy commander alive or dead, victory itself was already within reach.
Until…The man they hunted suddenly drew a knife and hurled it, striking deep into the leg of Zhang Yide’s horse!
THUD—!
Horse and rider crashed into the ground. Zhang Yide let out a pained cry as his body was crushed beneath the falling beast, his flesh scraped raw against gravel and stone. Yet even so, he grit his teeth, straining to push the weight aside, determined to rise and give chase.
But Heaven itself seemed to conspire against him…
“Ungh!”
At some moment, Cheng Yuanzhi had already leapt down from his own mount. With brutal force he drove his fist into Yide’s gut. The boy crumpled, tears pricking his fierce leopard-like eyes, now clouded with pain and confusion. His clothes were seized, his body hauled up like a helpless kitten—no trace of the raging tiger he had been moments before.
“San-di!” The cry came from afar, accompanied by the thunder of galloping hooves.
But before the youth could shout, plead, or even struggle, his body was pinned, and a cold blade was pressed against his neck.
“Struggle an inch, boy, and you die,” Cheng Yuanzhi hissed.
Guan Yunchang leveled his blade, his voice thunderous and unyielding:
“Cheng Yuanzhi! Release my brother at once!!!”

“E…Er-ge…” Zhang Yide’s voice trembled, hoarse with both pain and fear. “Don’t worry about me… Go, fetch the others… quickly!”
“No! I will not leave you in danger!” Yunchang’s grip on his blade tightened, his voice booming with defiance. He leveled the tip toward the rebel leader. “Release my brother! Surrender yourself alive!”
“Surrender alive?” Cheng Yuanzhi mocked, his tone thick with scorn. “You, with that beard flowing down your chest—I’d think you’d be fiercer than most. And yet you prattle on about taking me alive?”
“I do not wish to kill anyone! Nor does my elder brother!” Yunchang refused to yield. “Answer me—will you release my brother or not?!”
Cheng Yuanzhi sneered. Slowly, he pressed the knife closer. The young Zhang Yide whimpered, a raw sound of pain and terror, the cry of an eighteen-year-old boy who never imagined facing such peril.
Just the trickle of blood from a shallow cut was enough to make Guan Yunchang’s heart drop. For in that instant, the memory returned—of his parents’ lifeless bodies in the stone quarry two years ago—stabbed once more into his soul.
‘Kill him!’
‘No! I don’t want to!’
‘Strike him down! In times like this, mercy has no place!’
‘No! I will not be a murderer!’
‘But if you do not kill now… you will regret it for the rest of your life.’

“Though we were not born in the same year, month, and day…” Yunchang murmured the words of their oath. The tremor in his body stilled, becoming calm as a still pond, steadfast as a mountain unmoved by storm or rain.
He closed his eyes for a breath, drawing air deep into his chest, transforming it into strength that coursed through his limbs. His right hand gripped the sword firm—no fear, no hesitation remained.
“Er-ge!!!” Zhang Yide cried out, tears streaming as he saw his sworn brother surge forward, blade raised high.
Cheng Yuanzhi, instead of striking down his hostage, froze. The sight of the red-faced, black-bearded warrior hurtling toward him made the very blood in his veins run cold, his body locked in terror.
“…so let us die in the same year, month, and day!!!”

SHRRRACK!!!

In but a heartbeat, the man of the Guan clan cleaved the rebel commander clean in two. At the same instant, he swept his younger brother into his arms with seamless precision, as if nothing in the world had ever been in doubt.
Effortlessly, he carried Yide back toward his waiting horse—calm, unshaken, as though such a deed were as natural as drawing breath.

“E…Er-ge…”
“Hm? What?”
“Uuuuuuh… waaah!!!”
And there you have it, dear listeners—though Zhang Yide may indeed be a tiger, at this moment he was nothing more than a cub, still raw and untested.
The fierce beast of legend people would later whisper about? That was yet years down the road.
“Er-ge! Can I not come next time~?” The boy whimpered, slumping against his sworn brother’s shoulder like a ragdoll.
“Oh, I heard we’ll be setting camp outside the city tonight,” Yunchang replied with perfect calm.
Which only sent his little brother into louder protest: “Nooooo!!! That means we’ll stink of sweat and blood for days! No girl will ever look my way!”
“Er-di! San-di! You two—uh…” Liu Xuande rode up with Captain Zou Jing and the rest of the volunteers close behind. One glance at the scene, at the scattered corpses and the brothers’ state, and he understood the whole story in an instant.
“Uh… why is San-di…?”
“Captain,” Yunchang cut him off politely, “does our camp have a water source nearby? Otherwise, I fear someone will soon be crying again… about girls running away.”
“Er-ge! You bastard! Shut up already!!!”

Chapter Text

As the days and months passed, the fame of the three sworn brothers who led the volunteer force from Zhuo Commandery spread across the land. Tales were told that wherever Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei rode their steeds, the scattered bandits in every district would surely fall into ruin and defeat.
Liu Bei and his company met many people along the way—some city magistrates who welcomed them with warm hospitality, some commanders of great repute. And then… someone most precious to the heart of Xuande, the eldest of the three brothers.
That man resided in a city called Guangzhong (in what is now Shandong Province).
“Da-ge, are you certain he will still remember you?” Guan Yunchang asked, his tone betraying unease, though it was at odds with the look of shining hope in Xuande’s eyes.
“Unless one has grown so old that one’s mind has withered… what teacher could possibly forget his own pupil?”
Not long after, the man they sought emerged from the guest residence by the city governor’s compound. His wrinkled face and graying hair bore witness to the many years he had lived, yet the dignity of the armor he wore did not fade in the least.
Liu Xuande lowered his head and pressed his hands together in a respectful salute. Yunchang and Zhang Fei quickly followed his lead.
“Master Lu Zhi,” Xuande said with solemn reverence, “this disciple greets you once more.”
The moment those words left his lips, the old master rushed forward and clasped him by the shoulders.
“Liu Bei! Is it truly you?”
“Ah… so you still remember me, Teacher.”
“Of course! You’ve grown so much! Back then you barely reached my waist—ha ha ha!” Lu Zhi laughed heartily, patting his former student’s arms and shoulders with delight. His smile radiated like that of a teacher reunited with a long-lost disciple. “What wind has carried you here, eh? And those two behind you—the red-faced one and the dark-faced one…who might they be?”
Xuande gestured proudly toward his sworn brothers. “The first is my second brother, Guan Yu, styled Yunchang. The other is my youngest brother, Zhang Fei, styled Yide.”
Yunchang bowed once more. “This humble one pays his respects, Master.”
“Oh~! So this is the teacher who once taught our Da-ge the art of war?” Zhang Fei muttered, barely able to contain his nerves. His fidgeting soon earned him a discreet jab in the ribs from his second brother to keep him still.
Lu Zhi chuckled, glancing between them with a teasing air. “Come now, there is no need for such stiffness. And this fellow called Zhang Fei—what an endearing character he is.”
“I—I am not endearing at all, sir!” Zhang Fei puffed out his chest, trying to cover the flood of embarrassment rising within him, though his voice betrayed him all the same.
Both Lu Zhi and Xuande burst out laughing, and even the ever-stoic Yunchang could not help but smirk faintly at the sight.

“So then… tell me, how did you come to be here? What path led you back to me?”
At his teacher’s urging, Liu Xuande recounted how he had gathered companions and joined forces with Zhuo Zheng to patrol against the Yellow Turban rebels scattered across the provinces. Sometimes they claimed victory in a matter of days, sometimes they were forced to retreat and regroup, and at times it took an entire month before they could finally defeat their foes.
Master Lu Zhi nodded, his face alight with pride. “Mm, well done, well done! Though you were rather thick-headed as a boy, you were never truly dull… It seems that I have succeeded after all, in my duty as your teacher.”
“You praise me too highly, Master,” Xuande replied, bowing his head with humble grace.
Zhang Fei leaned closer to whisper, watching his elder brother’s manner. “Our Da-ge truly is a man of deep gratitude…”
“Mhm. It seems Heaven has guided us to meet one of worth,” Guan Yunchang answered softly, his expression calm yet his gaze upon Xuande filled with profound respect.
The four of them continued their exchange for a long while, speaking of matters both weighty and light. At last, it was settled: Master Lu Zhi, who now officially held the rank of Grand Commander with fifty thousand troops stationed at Luoyang, granted permission for Liu Bei to merge the volunteer force from Zhuo Commandery with his own army.

That night, the three brothers were given a chamber to rest in. And as you already know, Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei shared a bond as close as brothers born of the same womb. They ate together, they slept together.
Yet tonight, one of them still lay awake. It was Yunchang, standing quietly by the window, gazing into the night. In his hand he held a silk pouch close against his chest—inside it, a lock of his beloved wife’s hair, and a strand from his cherished son.
“Second Brother… are you thinking of your wife and child?” Zhang Fei mumbled drowsily.
“I suppose by now, your son must be about two years old, is he not?” Xuande added softly. “He must be utterly adorable.”
Yunchang let out a long sigh as memories came rushing back—the day he parted from her, the sound of Hu Qingyue’s sobs, and Ah-Ping’s cries still echoed painfully within the depths of his heart. Without a word, he slipped the pouch back into his sleeve, returned to the bed, and sat down.
He spoke no further.
Then suddenly, Yunchang spoke.
“Tell me honestly, Da-ge… does it not trouble you that my wife is not of pure Han blood?”
“Hmm? Was she not born within the lands of Han?” Xuande replied without hesitation. “If so, then even if she carries blood from the Western Regions, she is still a subject of Han. That much is certain.”
Such a straightforward answer strengthened the quiet confidence of the red-faced man, assuring him that he had not chosen wrongly.
“You know, Er-ge,” Zhang Fei chimed in, rolling over with a sly grin, “the way you’ve described her beauty… I really want to see for myself if she’s as lovely as you say.” He suddenly grew fierce, pounding a fist into his palm. “And if anyone dares call her plain, I’ll beat them until they apologize to her, just you watch!”
“You two… you’re not teasing me, are you?” Yunchang muttered.
“No,” Xuande said firmly.
“Ha! Zhang Fei never jokes about such things, Er-ge~!” With that, he flopped onto his back again, legs fidgeting, eyes fixed on the ceiling as though he were gazing at stars or weaving dreams. “Ah, if only your little one were here… I’d buy the finest fabric and have clothes made for him, and get him toys—plenty of toys! Ha ha!”
“Hold on, you’re already calling my son your nephew?” Yunchang rapped the younger man lightly on the head in jest.
“Of course! If he’s your son, that makes him my nephew. I’m his uncle!”
Xuande could not help but smile as he watched his brothers banter and tease each other. Yet, in the quiet of his own heart, he formed a small vow—perhaps ordinary for a man with great ambitions, but precious for one who had once been a stranger, and now entrusted his very life to him.
‘One day… if I gain the strength and the power, I will help my second brother reunite with his wife and child.’
‘Wait for me. Fight alongside me and San-di for now… that day will surely come.’

“The forces of Zhang Jue number one hundred and fifty thousand, while mine stand at fifty thousand,” declared General Lu Zhi at the morning war council. His gaze remained fixed on the campaign map before him, his brow furrowed with concern.
“The enemy army presses close against our lines, and the outcome is yet uncertain. Meanwhile, Zhang Bao and Zhang Liang, his younger brothers, are locked in battle with the armies of General Zhu Jun and Huangfu Song at Yingchuan.”
“Whom does the General deem fit to send into battle?” someone in the council asked.
“Send Liu Xuande’s forces,” Lu Zhi replied without hesitation.
At once, murmurs rippled through the chamber.
“The peasant volunteers?!”
“If we do this, the bandits will scorn us!”
“Hey!!!” Zhang Fei roared, unable to contain himself. He jabbed a finger at the officers and advisors, his fury overflowing. “What does it matter if they come from the countryside?! In a war like this, you still dare speak of division?”
“San-di, don’t—” Guan Yunchang pulled his younger brother back, seeing him reach for the hilt of his blade. Meanwhile, Liu Xuande stepped forward, clasping his hands and bowing his head, his demeanor tinged with embarrassment.
“Forgive us, gentlemen. My youngest brother is hot-tempered. I beg your indulgence.”
General Lu Zhi stood tall, lifting his chin as his gaze swept across every man in the chamber. The air grew cold, and a chill crept over the gathered officers as silence fell. For though the General had entered the twilight of age… a tiger, even when old, remains a tiger still.
“My word is final,” he declared. “If they cannot overcome Zhang Bao and Zhang Liang, then I alone shall bear the responsibility.”
Thus, the volunteer force from Zhuo Commandery set out from Gongzhong toward Yingchuan, accompanied by reinforcements bestowed by General Lu Zhi. But before they could engage in battle, the three young men first had to meet with Zhu Jun and Huangfu Song.
“So, you are Liu Bei, leader of the volunteer troops from Zhuo Commandery?” Zhu Jun asked.
“Yes, sir. This humble one pays respects to both Generals.”
“Enough, enough, no need for formality,” Huangfu Song cut in, going straight to the point. “We have been locked in struggle with the rebels for some time. Do you have any strategy worth proposing?”
“I have heard the bandits are stockpiling bundles of straw,” Liu Xuande replied, offering a thought that struck true to the generals’ concerns. “Might it not be effective if we struck them with fire?”
“Ha! Excellent, excellent!” Zhu Jun slapped his knee with delight. “A brilliant plan, Xuande! Say no more—carry it out as you see fit!”
“We entrust this to you, young Liu. May Heaven grant you favor,” Huangfu Song added with a smile.
“Yes, sir. I shall take my leave to prepare the troops.”

The plan to strike the enemy with fire began in the deep silence of night. Liu Bei ordered one unit of soldiers to carry torches and crouch low in the tall grass, to create the illusion that their numbers were far greater than they truly were.
“Keep your heads down—don’t let them catch sight of us,” Zhang Fei whispered sternly.
“Just a little further… we’re almost at their camp,” Yunchang murmured, his eyes fixed on the enemy encampment across the way. “Once the signal comes… it will all be over tonight.”
The small band of soldiers crept closer and closer toward the Yellow Turban stronghold. At the decisive moment, Liu Xuande gave a sharp order to another unit.
“Beat the drums!"
The thunder of drums roused the Yellow Turbans from their slumber. Panic spread as they rushed out of their tents, startled and afraid by both the pounding rhythm and the sight of flames flickering wildly in the night wind.
“Damn it! The government troops must be attacking!” one of the rebels cried out.
“Throw the torches!!!”
At Yunchang’s roar, chaos erupted. The torches landed upon haystacks and the canvas of tents, setting them ablaze. Flames roared skyward, and the enemy camp dissolved into screams and confusion. Some rebels fled in terror, some were consumed by fire, others were cut down or captured. By the night’s end, victory belonged resoundingly to the volunteer force.
“Ha! Ha! Look at them scatter! Too easy!” San-di shouted, leaping in giddy triumph, already savoring the fame this success would bring them all.
“Must you act like a child?” Er-ge muttered with weary exasperation, shaking his head. “This, from someone so eager to turn nineteen? Hmph.”
“Er-ge!!!”

Clip-clop… clip-clop…
“Wait! Everyone, be silent!” Liu Bei raised his hand, and at once the laughter of his two younger brothers ceased. Even the chatter of the soldiers nearby fell into stillness. From the corner of his eye, Yunchang glanced toward the direction his elder brother was staring.
Red… the flash of red cloth whipping in the wind. It stirred a half-forgotten memory in the bearded warrior’s mind.
“The army of Cao Mengde has never once failed in crushing bandits and outlaws.”
That voice echoed again in his ears as he beheld the rider approaching—the man in the red cloak. A pale face, fox-like eyes narrowed to slits, a smile that chilled to the bone. His bearing was bold, commanding, his presence radiant like blinding light—yet beneath it lurked a danger sharp enough to kill.
It was more than enough to make the man surnamed Guan freeze in place, breath catching in his throat as though he were a drowning man on the brink of death.
“Hey! Who the hell is this?!” Zhang Fei leveled his spear, shouting. “Are you government troops or bandits?! Speak quickly!”
“San-di… enough,” Xuande restrained him with a frown and a sharp tug, his lips pressed in mild reproach.
“Do not be alarmed,” came the gentle reply from atop the horse. “I am a general dispatched by the court to assess the situation here in the south. And you—whose command are you under?”
“We have no official command yet, sir,” Xuande answered with equal courtesy. “Merely a small volunteer force, supported here and there by the minor prefectures. For us, that alone is a blessing enough.”
Cao Mengde, the general from the capital, cast a glance at the dying flames in the distance before speaking. “An attack by fire, was it? Remarkable. I must offer you my genuine admiration.”
“Not at all, General, you flatter me too greatly,” Xuande bowed his head with modest grace.
“In truth, my army too has been striking at the Yellow Turbans, advancing alongside General Lu Zhi’s forces,” Cao Mengde went on, recounting the reason for his presence. “But in this case… it seems right that the victory be credited to you. I mean it.”
“Oh! No, no, please don’t say that!” Xuande’s eyes widened as his hands trembled slightly. “How could a mere volunteer band like mine possibly compare with the grand armies of Luoyang?”

Amidst the conversation, amidst the shouts of triumph and joy, not a single soul—not Liu Bei, not Zhang Fei, not even Cao Cao himself—knew what truly stirred in Guan Yu’s heart.
Was it fear?
Was it unease?
Was it the crushing sense of shrinking small, like dust adrift in the vast cosmos?
No one could know—save Guan Yu himself. And that nameless feeling would surely return to him, far in the future, long after this night, in a time and place none of us can yet foresee.
So let me ask you this…
That dazzling light—tell me, is it good, or is it ill?

Chapter Text

Time passed, and passed, and passed again. Liu Bei’s reputation spread ever wider. People in towns great and small, terrified by the grip of the rebel hordes, began to pin their hopes on his volunteer force arriving to save them.
Yet there is one truth of the world and the cosmos that all must accept, however painful: where there is praise, there will be slander. Where there is fortune, decline is never far behind.
“I just don’t get it!” Zhang Yide grumbled one day as they rested in camp. “General Zhu Jun and General Huangfu Song seem to admire us plenty… but those other officers, whispering and mocking our volunteer force behind our backs—ugh! Infuriating! It makes my blood boil!!!”
“San-di,” Xuande said bluntly, “if people don’t like us, there’s nothing we can do. Tie them up, beat them, force them to love us—it still won’t work.”
“Mm… will I be guilty of disrespecting the throne if I speak my mind?” Guan Yunchang stroked his beard thoughtfully. “The reason we’re forced to fight these rebels is because of the Yellow Turbans and their divisive cult. But the people fell to division because the government and court grew weak and neglectful… Surely you both know what troubles lurk in the palace right now.”
Xuande sighed. “How could I not know? From what I’ve heard, His Majesty has been ailing of late. That only makes it easier for the eunuchs to tighten their grip on power.”
“I heard His Majesty has two sons, hasn’t he?” Yide propped his chin on his hand. “One is Prince Bian, born of Empress He, the sister of General He Jin… and the other is Prince Xie, born of a concubine.”
“Mm. And since Prince Bian lost his mother young, he’s been raised under the care of Empress Dowager Dong—the current emperor’s own mother. To put it simply, a grandmother raising her grandson.” Xuande sighed again. “But conflict is bound to follow. Factions will form around Prince Bian and Prince Xie, starting with Empress He and the Empress Dowager themselves.”
Yunchang fell silent, clutching tighter the silk pouch that held locks of hair from his beloved wife, Qingyue, and their little son, Ping. Inwardly, he murmured: ‘This is why… I want to have only one wife. Others…even the Son of Heaven—may have many women, but not I. I will not let quarrels and jealousies befall my child or my kin.’

Several days later, the three brothers and their volunteer force were once again marching to rejoin General Zhu Jun’s army. But along the road, they encountered a sight that struck them with dismay.
Another column of soldiers came toward them, escorting a prison cart reinforced with iron bars. Within it, a lone man sat in silence.
“May I ask, sir,” Xuande addressed one of the officers leading the column, “who is the man in the cage?”
“Lu Zhi,” came the curt reply.
“What!?” Xuande’s face went pale. He pleaded desperately with the officer, “Please, stop the cart! I beg you… he was once my teacher. Let me see him—just once!”
The officer shook his head. “No. My orders are to deliver the prisoner without delay.”
“Sir! Please, I implore you!” Xuande’s voice cracked as his body trembled, as though the very world had begun to crumble around him. But the officer, growing impatient, shoved him to the ground.
At once, Zhang Fei lunged forward, planting himself between them with a spear leveled. “You bastard! Lay another hand on my big brother and you’ll answer me!!!”
Yunchang, silent until now, weighed the moment. Then he stepped forward—not with curses, nor with blows, but with a small pouch in his hand. Inside, something jingled faintly, the unmistakable sound of what men in this age of chaos valued above all, no matter their station.
“Take this,” he said evenly.
“Er-di…” Xuande whispered, stunned.
“Er-ge! That’s bribery!” Yide barked.
The black-bearded man turned his steady gaze on his sworn brothers. He said nothing, yet the look in his eyes conveyed all they needed to understand: this was not betrayal, but a purchase of precious time.
Thus the officer relented, ordering his column to halt and rest awhile, allowing the three brothers to approach the prison cart and speak with Lu Zhi, who sat confined within.
Xuande rushed forward, clutching at the bars, his tears streaming down as his face dimmed like the moon obscured by clouds.
“Master! How have you fallen into such a state?”
“It’s a long story, but I’ll keep it short,” Lu Zhi forced a bitter smile, mocking his own misfortune. “I was locked in battle with Zhang Jue, and I nearly had them defeated. But by some trickery—or sorcery, perhaps—they slipped away. Soon after, the court dispatched an inspector by the name of Zuo Feng to examine my conduct.”
Yunchang’s brows drew together, and he turned to meet Zhang Yide’s eyes, already guessing the shape of the truth.
“Zuo Feng demanded a bribe from me… But in the midst of war, what bribes could I possibly provide?”
Yide clenched his fists, grinding his teeth. “Don’t tell me… it was because of that…”
“Aye, exactly so,” Lu Zhi sighed. “They accused me of neglecting my duty, of failing to fight with full heart for the realm.”
At the very words of his elder brother’s revered master, the youngest of the sworn brothers lost all restraint.
“AAARGHHH!!!” Zhang Yide sprang to his feet with a scream, drawing his sword from its scabbard. With three heavy strides he bore down upon the guards. “You vile scum! Today I’ll cut you all down and free my elder brother’s teacher! Your lives are forfeit!!!”
“San-di! Don’t be reckless!” Yunchang leapt up, seizing him in time. Yet Zhang Fei thrashed and writhed in his brother’s arms.
“Er-ge, let me go! Men like this are no better than bandits! They deserve death!”
Even his furious shout and threatening posture were enough to throw the officers into alarm. But worse was yet to come. For Yide tore himself free from Yunchang’s hold, and in the next instant he lunged toward the iron bars of the prison cart, bracing his arms against them and heaving with all his might.
“San-di! Stop!!!” Xuande’s voice rang out, stern and desperate, hoping to pierce through his brother’s frenzy. But it was no use. The eighteen-year-old youth, who had lied about his age to take up arms for his country, was now consumed by fury and hatred toward a world that seemed only to mock justice. Tears streamed down his cheeks, hot as the blood boiling in his veins. The strength pouring from his arms was enough to make the iron groan and buckle, bending bit by bit beneath his wrath.

“Zhang Fei! Stop this instant!!!”
Silence… stillness… The voice of the old man, though now a prisoner, rang as firmly and clearly as it once had when he commanded armies. Even Zhang Fei, drowning in the fire of his rage, faltered at the sound.
“What use would it be,” Lu Zhi admonished, “if you killed these officers and freed me? More likely the authorities would brand you—and your brothers—as rebels as well.”
“But… but it’s not fair!” Zhang Fei’s voice quavered, his hands trembling against the bars. “A man as upright as you should never have to suffer such a fate! I… I don’t understand!”
Lu Zhi did not answer Zhang Fei. Instead, he turned to Xuande, his former disciple, and with a faint smile offered his final words before parting.
“You must stand firm and strong. Do not become like the men you despise. That is the only lesson an old teacher such as I can give you now, Xuande.”

'Do not become like the men you despise.'

The words resounded in Yunchang’s heart, echoing the virtues and principles instilled in him since youth, reminding him of the line he must never cross. And so, in the quiet of his soul, he swore to himself:
'This will be the last time I pay one thing in exchange for another… May Heaven and Earth have mercy on me.'

Several days later, at General Zhu Jun’s camp, a war council was underway, tense and grave.
“There is one problem,” Zhu Jun said, arms crossed as he studied the map before him. “No matter how many times we’ve attacked, sending men into battle here has always meant certain death. This place—Tiemen Pass, the ‘Iron Gates.’”
“It looks like an ordinary mountain pass, my lord,” Liu Bei remarked evenly.
“Not ordinary at all,” Zhu Jun muttered, brows knit in frustration. “Rumor has it that Zhang Bao wields sorcery—conjuring not only winds that roar through this pass, but arrows, phantom soldiers by the tens of thousands, and other tricks besides. That’s why, no matter how often we attack, we’re beaten back in shambles.”
Standing a little apart, Zhang Fei leaned close and whispered, “I don’t believe it. That Zhang Bao may have some tricks, but there’s no way his powers are that great.”
“And what do you propose, then?” Yunchang asked him.
Zhang Fei didn’t answer his second brother directly. Instead, he raised his hand. “My lord, I have a plan to suggest.”
“Oh? Let’s hear it, young man.” Zhu Jun’s mouth curved into a faint smile, as though testing how far this fiery youth might go.
“What if my elder brothers here were granted half the soldiers from our ranks, to reinforce our volunteer corps?” Zhang Fei’s words and demeanor carried a depth far beyond his usual brashness, so much so that both Liu Bei and Yunchang looked at him in surprise. “I believe there must be more to this than mere sorcery, my lord.”
Zhu Jun’s smile widened. “Approved!”

Not long after, the volunteer corps, reinforced by the troops General Zhu Jun had assigned them, arrived at the troublesome pass. The wind that howled through it was enough to drain the spirit from even the hardiest soldiers.
“You wait here!” Xuande commanded. “My brothers and I will go by ourselves. If we do not return within the hour… ride hard back to General Zhu Jun’s camp!”
With that, the three brothers spurred their horses forward into the pass. The deeper they rode, the darker it seemed to grow. Dampness and cold pressed ever tighter upon their skin, inch by inch.
“This wind is no sorcery—it’s natural,” Zhang Fei remarked, riding close beside his second brother. “But our enemies… they’re craftier than I thought.”
Before they could speak further, the first “ominous sign” appeared.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Arrows shot from the shadows of the cliffs, carried by the wind straight toward their targets. The brothers jerked their reins, swerving their mounts aside, then retreated at full gallop back out of the pass, barely escaping with their lives.
Once outside, they regrouped to discuss their next move.
“To force our way through with the army would be no better than marching to slaughter, as those before us did,” Xuande said, arms folded, his face steady though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.
“Then perhaps we should climb above and scout,” Yunchang mused, stroking his beard. “I suspect Zhang Bao’s men are concealed above the cliffs.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Let’s do it,” Zhang Fei nodded firmly.
Ah… but what awaits the three heroes atop that ridge? Demons? Phantoms? Spells of sorcery?
Or perhaps only the deceits of men—illusions draped in the veil of the “supernatural,” striking down those who lacked eyes keen enough to pierce the fog of falsehood?
What fate lies in wait for them?

Chapter Text

“Careful, don’t slip,”
Xuande said as he reached out a hand to pull his brother up. Guan Yunchang believed he had no small amount of strength himself, but the moment he was hoisted up from the rocky ledge, he realized that the other man’s strength was no less than his own.
“Brother! Brother! Get down!” Zhang Fei hissed in warning. At once, both the elder and the second brother crouched low behind a large boulder, then carefully peeked over to glimpse what lay above the Gorge of Death they had scouted earlier that day.
“There really is a bandit encampment right there,” Yunchang muttered.
“Should we rush them at once?” Xuande asked, narrowing his eyes toward the enemy’s territory.
“Better not, Da-ge,” Zhang Fei shook his head. “The real problem is… even if we order the soldiers to climb up here and strike the rebel bandits, they won’t believe us. They’re still terrified of the so-called spells and ghosts.”
Xuande closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting silence weigh heavily over them once more. Then he opened them and spoke decisively:
“Someone needs to bring a detachment of troops up here—our own volunteers, preferably. And make sure to tell them to bring animal blood or other filth.”
“Huh? What are you planning, big brother?” the dark-faced youth arched his brow.
“I’ll go,” the bearded man replied without another question. He slipped away quietly, then began climbing back down to the ground below.
Not long after, Guan Yunchang returned with a handful of soldiers and the items needed for that night’s plan.
“All right… I know the sorcery that Zhang Bao conjured is real,” Liu Xuande declared in a clear voice. “But to cower and refuse to fight because of it—what kind of man would we be? Who would not mock us as cowards, useless as men who tremble before mere phantoms and spells? Am I right?”
His gaze fell upon the jars and basins brimming with animal blood and filth. “Since they used foul magic to harm others… then we shall use filth to break their magic!” He said this firmly, then turned to Guan Yunchang and Zhang Fei, passing the unspoken command to them at once.
“Follow me! Once we reach the rebels’ camp, hurl the blood and filth without hesitation!”
“Fear not! When their sorcery is broken, they’ll be no fiercer than a tiger stripped of its claws and fangs!”

The soldiers’ battle cries rang out like a proclamation that their confidence in victory had returned. At once, they stormed the encampment of the Yellow Turban rebels under Zhang Bao, who had been given the title of General of the Earth (Digong Jiangjun) by Zhang Jue, the sect’s leader.
The rebels, caught completely off guard—whether in slumber or just roused from it—realized too late that their flank had been breached.
“How did they get up here?!”
“Arghhh! Run! Run for your lives!”
“Wait—are they throwing dog’s blood?! Heavens above, we’re doomed! The spell is broken!”
“Beat the drums! Strike the gongs! Drive their fear and confusion even deeper!” shouted the youngest Zhang brother, his voice rising above the chaos.
The thunder of drums and clangor of gongs roared together, drowning out the screams, the clash of weapons, and the crackling fires that now spread through the camp. The more the rebels believed they faced an overwhelming force, the more their wits fled—some even turning on each other in their terror.
“What the hell?! Do we have a traitor in our midst?!” a voice bellowed amid the chaos. The three brothers turned—and saw the man they had expected all along to appear.
“There you are, Zhang Bao!” Liu Bei leveled his sword at him.
“You little brat! Do you even know to whom you’re speaking?!” Zhang Bao tried to overawe them. “I am the General of the Earth, second only to Master Zhang Jue of the Way of Great Peace! And today you dare to come here and break my spell?!”
“SHUT UP!!!” Zhang Fei roared back, his round leopard-like eyes flashing with ferocity. “Rebel scum like you will die this very day—unless you throw down your arms!”
Zhang Bao clenched his fists, then broke into a wicked grin.
“Good! Then face Heaven’s punishment!!!”
A cloud of white smoke billowed forth, swallowing the General of the Earth’s figure whole. Suddenly, spears, blades, halberds, and arrows came hurtling toward the three brothers.
Yunchang, sharpest in mind and swiftest in reflex, immediately seized both his elder and younger brother, dragging them down flat against the ground.
“Urgh! Is this… real sorcery?!” Xuande cried.
“No way! There must be some trick hidden here!” Zhang Fei still clung to reason. “Er-ge! Look around! There must be something strange nearby!”
Yunchang’s eyes swept keenly across the surroundings. Then it struck him: all this swirling whiteness was nothing more than ordinary fog and smoke—likely laced with some substance to make it unnaturally thick, so it blended seamlessly with the mountain mists, appearing terrifying to those unknowing.
At once, the bearded man thundered like rolling heaven’s drum:
“Men! Find every fire pit in this area and douse them with dog’s blood! That’s Zhang Bao’s so-called sorcery!”
At that command, a group of soldiers seized jars of dog’s blood and rushed to the fire pits at the rear. They poured it over the flames, dousing them at once. As the fires died, so too did the thick white smoke, leaving only a faint mountain mist that no longer obscured their sight. What was revealed were life-sized straw effigies, with Yellow Turban rebels lurking nearby to hurl weapons in the confusion.
“So these were the ones throwing weapons at us!”
“Seize them—dead or alive!”
“Waaahhhh! I’m out of here! Run for your lives!”
“Wait—don’t leave me behind!”
That night, victory was slipping decisively into the hands of the volunteer forces and General Zhu Jun’s troops. Many of Zhang Bao’s Yellow Turbans were either slain or taken captive. Only one goal remained—bringing down Zhang Bao himself.

“Stop! Don’t run!” Liu Xuande spurred his horse after Zhang Bao and his cohorts, bow gripped tightly, ready to fire.
“Shoot him, Brother!” Yunchang shouted.
“Go for the heart, Brother!” Zhang Fei echoed.
Xuande drew his bowstring and loosed, aiming straight for Zhang Bao in the distance. He was certain the arrow would strike true—but alas! Fate had not yet decreed Zhang Bao’s death. Instead of piercing his back and chest, the shaft buried itself in his left shoulder.
“Damn it! He got away!”
“He won’t get far,” Yunchang said, staying Xuande from pursuit. “Most likely he’ll hide himself in some nearby town. When General Zhu Jun brings his men to surround it, we can finish him then.”
“Mm. We’ve had enough for tonight—let’s rest,” Zhang Fei yawned wide. “Later, when we stop in another town, I’ll take you somewhere fun, heh heh~!”
“You little rascal! What nonsense are you spouting?!” Xuande’s face flushed red at the younger man’s words.
“I didn’t mean women! I meant a gambling den, of course~!”
BAM! — “Owwww!”
“Gambling is the road to ruin,” Yunchang admonished calmly, before tugging his horse down the mountain path. Xuande followed, too weary to listen to another word of Zhang Fei’s chatter.
“Er-geeeee! Just a little game, that’s all!” the youngest whined, trailing after them.

Several days later, after the council had settled on a plan to attack Xiaquyang—where Zhang Bao’s surviving forces had taken refuge—the men allowed themselves a brief respite before marching again.
“Hey, Er-ge, can I ask you something?” Zhang Fei piped up.
“Go on.”
“How old is your wife?”
“She’s five years younger than I am,” Yunchang propped his chin on his hand. “So… about your age, I suppose.”
“Oh really…” Zhang Fei tilted his head, then blurted, “Well then! That means your wife must be like my elder sister! When I meet her, I’ll ask to be her younger brother—how about it, Er-ge? Can I? Can I, can I, can I?”
Xuande smiled faintly, half fond, half weary. “And what would you call her, hm?”
“Since she’s from the Hu clan, then I’ll call her Hu-jie!”
Yunchang tried to hold back his laughter but could not hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, call her whatever you like.”
“Yaaay~! Er-ge, you’re the best!”
Xuande watched his second brother. The man’s face had reddened again as he drew out two small silk pouches—keepsakes holding strands of his beloved’s hair. As always, Yunchang would look at them whenever loneliness or longing for the family he had left behind in Hedong welled up in his heart.
“Tell me about her.”
“Hm?”
“I want to know… what Hu Qingyue is like,” Xuande leaned closer. “I wonder if my younger brother’s wife is as graceful in virtue as she is in form.”
Yunchang closed his eyes, drew a breath, and began: “If you expect ladylike manners, Da-ge, don’t. She can play the demure lady, but only for a little while. Soon enough she’s a mischievous monkey, always teasing people—myself included.”
“Wow! Just like me!” Zhang Fei wriggled excitedly.
“Indeed. If the two of you ever meet, I imagine chaos will follow,” Yunchang teased back.
“And what about other things?”
“She may be impish and troublesome, but at heart she is no ill person. She is… good. So good that I often feel unworthy of her. She studied medicine under her father, and she dispenses her remedies freely to the poor. She is soft-hearted, unable to bear others’ suffering without offering help.”
“Ahhh~ a saintly lady,” Zhang Fei sighed dreamily, already conjuring images from his brother’s words.
“Hey! You little brat, wipe that lovestruck look off your face!” Yunchang reached out as if to strike, but Zhang Fei only scooted away, teasing, “Er-ge~ Are you jealous of your wife? Haha!”
“Of course I am! I’m her husband—who else has the right to guard her jealously but me?!”
The youngest grinned mischievously.
“One more thing… if you two love each other so much, then you and Hu-jie must have a lot of fun together, eh?”
“You precocious brat! Come here and let me crack your skull open!”
The bearded man leapt to his feet, chasing the laughing youth around the tent, his face burning with both fury and embarrassment. Zhang Fei darted away, cackling, “Ha! Ha! Ha! So my Er-ge can blush after all! You’re not such a stone-faced man after all, are you?!”

Thud! Thud! Thud!
“Young men! No need to march on Xiaquyang after all!” It was General Huangfu Song who burst in, his manner a mix of alarm and subdued delight. The game of chase between second and youngest brother halted at once, while Xuande, the eldest, widened his eyes in surprise.
“What is it, my lord general? Why should we no longer strike at Zhang Bao’s forces there?”
“Zhang Bao’s own men killed him and surrendered to General Zhu Jun! A fast courier just arrived with the news, so I rushed to tell everyone!”
Yunchang cut in at once: “But my lord, with the General of the Earth now dead, only Zhang Liang, the General of Man, and Zhang Jue, the leader of the Way of Great Peace, remain!”
“Exactly! I say we press on and finish them off at once!” Zhang Fei added eagerly.
“Good!” Huangfu Song nodded, smiling at the boldness of youth. “Then in five minutes, we gather outside the camp!”

Very well—let me cut short the wearisome account of battles and speak in summary. Not long after, the armies of Generals Zhu Jun and Huangfu Song defeated Zhang Liang, the so-called General of Man, and slew him at Gongzhong. As for Zhang Jue, the leader of the Way of Great Peace whom everyone had hoped to capture alive, he had already perished from illness some time before.
With the Yellow Turban rebels at last crushed, the generals and officers stationed across the provinces all received handsome rewards from Emperor Ling. Some were promoted in rank, others appointed to govern key commanderies. Only the volunteer force from Zhuo Commandery received nothing at all—no rewards, no recognition.
And that, dear reader, is the truth I wish to impart: fortune and favor do not come to all alike. Perhaps it is the weight of past karma, perhaps the love or hatred of those who bestow honors, or perhaps the shifting tides of mutual interest among the powerful. In such matters, who can say for certain?
“Ahh, such a pity… everyone else gets to join the banquet in the palace, and we’re left with nothing…” Zhang Fei sulked as he wandered through the streets of Luoyang.
“Come now, at least the war is over,” Liu Xuande said, always striving to see the bright side. Then he teased, “So then, didn’t you promise to treat us to dinner? Find us a fine tavern, little brother.”
“Of course! I’ve got silver aplenty—leave it to me!”
Guan Yunchang, for his part, lifted a more cheerful subject: “I heard Master Lu Zhi, your teacher, has been pardoned. We must thank Generals Zhu Jun and Huangfu Song for petitioning His Majesty to hear the truth.”
“Indeed. There are still good men in this world,” Xuande nodded, his gaze alight with hope.

Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop…
A carriage rolled to a halt beside the three men. The bamboo blinds that veiled its interior were lifted, revealing the face of someone within. Judging by the attire, the ornamentation, and the sheer luxury of the vehicle, one could tell at once that he was a man of rank in the court.
“You must be Liu Xuande, commander of the volunteer forces from the northern frontier, yes?”
“I am,” Xuande replied.
The man quickly introduced himself. “I am Zhang Jun, an official of the imperial court. Your name for suppressing the rebel thieves spreads across the realm, and yet you were granted no reward. I will see to it that justice is done.”
“There is no need, my lord,” Xuande answered politely, attempting to decline. “So long as the realm is at peace, and the people no longer suffer in fear, that alone is reward enough for us.”
“You do not understand,” Zhang Jun shook his head, brooding on the matter at hand. “It is the Ten Eunuchs who fawn on His Majesty, twisting truth into falsehood—those who deserve rewards receive none, while the undeserving are showered with favor. I have fought against them all my life. To fight once more is no burden to me.”
After some further words, the carriage rolled away from them. And alas, dear listener, that was the last time the three youths—and we ourselves—would ever see him again. For soon after, Zhang Jun was accused by the eunuchs of having secretly joined the Way of Great Peace, the sect of the Yellow Turbans. He was imprisoned, beaten, and tortured until death.
As for palace intrigues—no, I shall not tell of them. They are not entertaining. The court is filled with nothing but power struggles, cunning plots, betrayals, affairs of love and envy, and countless other matters that a foolish cat like me neither understands nor wishes to.

Chapter Text

Court Official: “It is unfair…”
Unfair, you say, good sir? And in what way?
Court Official: “Now that Zhang Jun has been tortured to death, with no mediator left in the court… who will ever help Liu Bei rise in this world?”
Official’s Wife: “Indeed. This world is far too unjust.”
Do not be afraid, good sirs and ladies. Though Zhang Jun has perished in agony, fortune and destiny yet found their way to Liu Bei and his sworn brothers.
I do not know if it was Heaven that moved the hearts of men, or if the eunuchs simply neglected to speak up at that moment. But what I do know for certain is this: Emperor Ling, in his benevolence, granted Liu Bei the post of county magistrate. He was dispatched to rule Anxi County—a small, humble settlement, not prosperous compared to Luoyang or Chang’an. Yet this was to be the very first foothold for the three heroes, a place where they could take root and govern after years of wandering and battle, as I have previously told.
The land they came to dwell in may not have been as grand or comfortable as the great cities, but so long as the three brothers kept their hands clasped firmly together, no hardship would ever scatter them. Together they would endure, and face whatever cruelty the world had yet to throw their way.
“Da-ge! Da-ge! Someone’s fighting over a cow again!”
“Da-ge, come quickly… People are quarreling over land on the far side.”
“Hey! Out of money? Borrow from us first! Our county magistrate charges no interest!”
“Ah, so your son is seven already? Excellent—leave him here, and we shall teach him his letters and numbers.”
These were the sounds often heard in the county yamen: the voices of the two younger brothers running about to aid their elder, and the voices of common folk seeking help in their daily troubles. And this, indeed, was the root of the people’s admiration and affection for them in Anxi.

“Aiyaaaaaa… what a pain. Just copying these government documents all day has left my hand aching after several ke! (half-hours)” Zhang Fei grumbled one evening, slumping back after spending the entire day making copies.
“Can’t be helped. Out of the three of us, your handwriting is the neatest,” Guan Yunchang said frankly, though with genuine praise hidden in his words. “Truth be told, I never would have thought that a wealthy merchant’s son like you would be so talented in calligraphy and painting.”
“It’s just a hobby I like…” Ah-Fei mumbled. “I never had the patience for dull studies. If there’s anything I enjoy, it’s a bit of military strategy here and there, and the arts. As for martial skills, well, I only ever picked those up from watching others.”
After lying sprawled across the couch for a short while, Zhang Fei suddenly sprang up as though struck by a thought, a broad grin spreading across his face.
“Oh, that’s right! If I ever get to meet Second Brother’s son, I’ll finally have a friend to draw with!”
“Ah-Fei, my son is not your disciple,” Yunchang chuckled softly.
“Just a drawing buddy, Er-ge! I won’t start teaching him seriously, I swearrr!”

The sound of footsteps outside the quarters brought their conversation to an abrupt halt. It was none other than Liu Xuande, the eldest of the three, entering the room. From his bearing alone, they knew at once that what he had encountered must have been heavy indeed.
“Da-ge… how went your talk with the local inspector today?” Yunchang asked at once—the very question that lies at the heart of the story I now recount.
Zhang Fei shuffled closer. “I heard that this inspector is fond of extorting bribes. If you don’t pay, he’ll only grow more overbearing. Don’t you dare give in to him, Brother!”
“Mmm.” Xuande gave a faint nod. “I could only sit in silence, nodding, pretending not to understand his words—though I knew full well that what he spoke was coercion, dressed in soft and friendly phrases.”
He sighed and added, “We have never taken advantage of the people… so what could we possibly hand over to him?”
“Even if we had it, we shouldn’t give it!” Zhang Fei burst out. “Let’s see if he dares do anything to us!”
Xuande turned slightly at the sound of several pairs of footsteps approaching the chamber door. It was the clerks and officers of the yamen itself.
“We have spoken among ourselves, my lord, and we worry for your safety,” one said.
“I have heard rumors that the government sent this inspector precisely to remove meritorious officials from their civil posts. I fear that you yourself are being watched.”
“And though we might suggest that you pay him off, we know full well you would never do such a thing… you have never even taken a needle from the common folk.”
The chamber fell silent, filled only with the sound of breathing and the heavy air of tension close to breaking. Yunchang and Zhang Fei both clenched their fists until veins stood out, torn between the urge to slay Du You outright, and the restraint forced upon them by the knowledge that such recklessness would only stain their elder brother’s name.
Only Liu Xuande showed no sign of pain, anger, or grief upon his face. It was as though he were silently turning over some scheme in his heart—one he had no wish to share, not even with his own sworn brothers.

That night was one the three men of three surnames would never forget— a night when the three peach blossoms first learned that in a world driven by power and intrigue, there is no escaping violence and the spilling of blood.
“Inspector! My lord wishes to pay you a visit!” Zhang Fei was the first to speak, pounding the door and calling to the man within the guest quarters.
“I hear you are unwell,” Yunchang added. “Our Lord, Xuande Gong and his brothers wish to know your condition, so that we may summon a physician for you.”
“Still no answer?” Xuande asked in his calm, even tone—so calm, in fact, that it seemed unnatural.
“Well then… looks like we’ve lost our chance to make a call,” Yide muttered under his breath.
“I had thought Da-ge would use this chance to persuade—HEY!!!” Yunchang’s words cut short as he turned, only to cry out in alarm: Xuande had already slipped away to scale the wall, silently entering the inspector’s compound!
“Da-ge!!!” Yide shouted, eyes wide, rushing forward to grab his elder’s sleeve but too late. “Da-ge, come backkkk!!!”
The younger Guan froze, anxiety surging through him as his mind raced: how many guards might be lurking within the inspector’s quarters? Would their elder brother be safe? And what of the two of them, along with the yamen officers—what aid could they possibly render if disaster struck?
“What do we do… what do we do… what do we do…”
“My lord! I say we break the door down!” one of the officers urged.
“Good! Then let’s do it!” Zhang Fei barked without a second thought.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
CRASSSHHHH!!!

“All right! To hell with order and decorum! Break in—anyone who stands in the way, trample them down!” At the command of the dark-faced youth, everyone surged into the compound.
They clashed head-on with the inspector’s guards and underlings—elbows and knees flying, cudgels striking. Amidst the uproar, the two brothers pressed on, desperate only to find their elder.
“Da-ge! Da-ge! We’re here now!”
“Brother, where are you?!”
“Ahhh! Ahhh!”
Those cries of pain made their hearts sink, as if torn out from their very chests. They rushed in the direction of the sound—until they came upon a sight they had never thought to behold in their lives, not since the day they first came to know the man called Xuande… though it had been but a short while.
Whap! Whap! Whap!
Ah… you may have heard the tales: that the inspector was seized by Zhang Fei, his hair tied to a horse post, lashed with willow branches. Some stories go so far as to embellish that Zhang Fei killed him outright, splitting his chest and carving the body into pieces. But the truth—it was not like that at all.
In such a cruel world as this, do you truly expect righteous men to remain forever silent, never to resist? What a strange notion that would be indeed.

In Yunchang’s eyes, the sight of his elder brother—the man he loved and revered enough to lay down his very life for, striking another with a face still calm, expressionless, and colder than ever before, chilled the blood in his veins. The air itself seemed to freeze, colder than the longest of winters.
“Ahhh! Lord Xuande! Stop striking me! I am afraid! Spare me!” The inspector, who moments ago had lured with promises, praised with honeyed words, and then threatened with veiled menace, now groveled pathetically, begging for mercy.
“Now you’re afraid, are you?!” Zhang Fei shouted, pointing a furious finger. “A corrupt official like you deserves to be whipped to death!!!”
Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!
‘Should I stop him? If Da-ge does not halt, he may end up killing this man…’
‘No! Scum like him deserves death—he’s no better than that Lü Xiong!’
‘What should I do… what should I do… What should I do…?’

At last, after listening to reason and emotion wage war within his heart, Yunchang stepped forward and laid a gentle hand upon Xuande’s shoulder. That single touch was enough—his elder froze, halting his actions almost at once.
“Da-ge…” Yunchang drew in a deep breath before continuing. “That is enough.”
Xuande did not answer. Yet the look he turned upon his brother reflected only weariness, the deep pain of long-borne burdens. Clear tears slipped down to wash away the faint crimson streaks that stained his pale cheek.
“Er-ge! Why show mercy to him?!” Yide protested fiercely. “A villain like that inspector deserves punishment—better still if he dies!”
“The ancients said… ‘A dense thicket of thorns is no place for a phoenix to dwell.’ Tell me, Brother—would you truly trade away a brighter future than the post of county magistrate, all for the sake of killing one corrupt man? Is it worth it?”
Those words, spilled unbidden from Yunchang’s heart and lips, silenced everyone present—his elder brother, his younger, and even the officers who had followed them, none dared to utter another word.
Xuande exhaled a long, weary sigh. The horsewhip slipped from his grasp, his body swaying until his two sworn brothers rushed to support him as though all strength had left him. At last, he spoke in a hoarse voice:
“What you say is true… I must not trade my own future, nor that of you both, for a moment’s satisfaction.”
Xuande’s gaze turned toward one of the clerks. “Go quickly and fetch my office seal. You know well where I keep it.”
The clerk bowed and departed, returning shortly with a silk pouch. Within was the magistrate’s seal ,the very insignia granted by imperial decree, the token of a post the brothers had won through battle and through defense of the land against rebels and bandits.
The inspector, still bound to the pillar, sobbed and trembled, uncertain what his captor might yet do. But Xuande did nothing more than take that silk-wrapped seal and hang it around the man’s neck—a gesture that seemed trivial, yet in truth was a silent act of humiliation.
“Report me to the authorities if you wish, or do whatever pleases you,” Xuande said, his voice steady. “But as for the magistracy of Anxi County…I return it now to the Son of Heaven!”

The next morning, the people of Anxi County were shocked. When they came to the yamen to seek their magistrate, they found neither Magistrate Liu Bei nor his two sworn brothers. Even the clerks and officers had vanished. Their belongings and armaments, too, had been moved away—no one knew whither. The townsfolk were left startled and stricken all at once.
When they ventured into the inspector’s quarters, they found his attendants battered and broken, and the corrupt inspector himself still bound to a pillar, the magistrate’s seal pouch hanging from his neck. And thus the cloud of doubt that lingered in the people’s hearts dissolved, like mist under the morning sun.
Now… the three fledgling birds of the Peach Blossom Grove had taken leave of the thornbushes of Anxi. But where in this world shall they ever find a place that will welcome them—without wounding them yet again?

Chapter Text

Dancer: “You speak only of the hero. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the heroine—the Black Cat of Xianluo?”
Forgotten? Never! How could I, of all people, forget our heroine? To prove my sincerity, let me recount in full the tale of her and her little son.

Let us revisit what came before: Two years before the three brothers met, Guan Yu and Hu Qingyue had already brought forth a son—Guan Ping, their beloved Ah-Ping. Because his father had, in a fateful moment, slain the son of the local magistrate, the boy and his mother were forced into separation from him, as Guan Yu fled Hotang under pursuit.
Merchant’s Wife: “Tell us, little cat… How adorable is our Ah-Ping? Spare no detail!”

Adorable! Utterly adorable, madam! From the time he was but a tiny babe—his thick tuft of hair, skin as white as snow, a round face bright as the moon, plump rosy cheeks begging to be pinched, and wide fawn-like eyes. All these bore the clear mark of his mother, Hu Qingyue, the one who gave him life.
As the boy grew, his hair unfurled into soft curls of a deep brown rather than pure black, and his lashes arched like peacock feathers. His manner and movements brimmed with such sweetness that many a heart simply melted at the sight.
By the age of three, beyond his doll-like appearance which his grandfather Hu Bin declared, “He is just like Ah-Qing when she was little”—his ways and words endeared him further to the entire community. Ah-Ping had a habit of gazing at people with sparkling eyes and a ready smile, speaking with a voice that charmed all who heard:
“Good day, Auntie!”
“Uncle, how much did you sell today?”
“Big Sister, you’re so pretty—like a flower!”
“Big Brother! Grandfather sent these oranges for you!”
Every outing ended with the nursemaids reporting to his mother and grandfather how countless people—merchants, their wives, wealthy gentry, even young maidens were delighted by him. They would rejoice if he greeted them cheerfully, or if he accepted the small gifts they pressed into his hands, charmed by his brightness and gentle nature.
Perhaps it was good karma from past lives that clung to this child named Guan Ping. Or perhaps it was simply that his upbringing—bathed in love and careful guidance from mother and grandfather had shaped him into a boy with such grace, empathy, and the beginnings of the gentlemanly virtues no young man should forget.

Yet no matter how dearly one may be loved, one must also accept the truth of this world: where there is love, there will always be hatred. Such is a law that nothing can erase.
For little Ah-Ping, who grew up surrounded only by his grandfather, his mother, a handful of servants and nursemaids—not even a hundred souls in all , this truth came upon him harshly as he grew old enough to play with the neighborhood children.
Differences began to show, and with them came cracks in childhood camaraderie.
Those other children, who each had both father and mother, quickly realized that Ah-Ping was the only one among them without a father. And so the cruel nickname took root:
“Son of a widow!” Words which might seem harmless from the lips of little children… but to the ears of the one who must bear them, it was as though they would rather drive him to dash his head against a pillar and die.
At first, Ah-Ping—only six years old did not understand what the insult meant. But one day, after asking his grandfather, he learned that a “widow” was a woman whose husband had died. Immediately, he ran to his mother and asked:
“Mama, has Father died already?”
That was the one question Hu Qingyue dreaded most to hear from her son’s tiny lips. And yet, she had always known the day would come. At first, she gave only a vague answer:
“No, child. Your father has only gone away to work in another city.”
“Then… What does my father look like, Mama? Please, tell me!”
“Your father is a handsome man, with skin red as the light of dawn.”
‘Red, like the morning sun… just like the Solar Deity, Taiyang Xingjun!’
So thought little Guan Ping, his childlike imagination seizing upon the brief image his mother painted of the father he had never seen.

The very next day, when the rowdy children once again mocked him as a “son of a widow,” Ah-Ping answered with innocent earnestness:
“My father went to work in another city. His skin is as red as the sun, you know!”
“Liar! Who in this world has skin that red?!”
“What, do you think your father is the Solar Deity, Taiyang Xingjun? Son of a widow!”
“Son of a widow! Son of a widow! Son of a widow!”
“No! My mama is not a widow!” the boy’s voice faltered, his body trembling. “I do have a father!”
One child stepped forward, gave him a hard shove, and sneered, “Ha! Ha! What’s this? Tears already? You fatherless brat!”
Thwack!
Ah, one thing I neglected to mention earlier: though Ah-Ping was but six years of age, his body was already the height of an eight-year-old, and his strength far exceeded other children of his years. So it took little for the fury inside him to erupt… and with just a few punches, he could topple the bullies one by one.
You can surely guess from whom he inherited that power…

From that day forth, whenever the bullies mocked him again for having no father, Guan Ping used his strength to seize and strike them until they wept, then quietly returned home without telling anyone. In part, he feared his mother and grandfather would scold him for using violence; in part, he did not see any point in boasting of such things.
But, as you all know well—there are no secrets in this world. One day, the parents of those beaten children stormed to Master Hu Bin’s gate in a fury, shouting:
“Master Qizhong! Your grandson has beaten my child!”
“When we asked our child why he was crying, he said, ‘The widow’s son hit me.’ So it must have been your precious grandson!”
“And that mother of his! Does she teach him nothing at all?!”
Such words were enough to ignite the long-buried resentment in young Hu Qingyue, resentment she had carried since the day her husband fled. That evening, her son was summoned—and beaten with a switch, strike after countless strikes.
“Ah! Mama! I’m sorry! Mama, don’t hit me!”
“You ungrateful child! Did your mother or grandfather ever teach you to brawl and fight?! Today I’ll beat you till your skin splits!”
“Mama! Ah-Ping is sorry! Ah-Ping won’t fight anyone again!”
Dear reader, understand this: Hu Qingyue did not strike her son out of rage alone. With every lash she delivered, she wept—her tears flowing as though they were blood.
And why was that? Whom shall we blame?
The magistrate who raised his son to be a lout like Lü Xiong, who then slew her husband’s parents and tried to defile her, forcing Guan Yu’s hand in murder?
Or Guan Yu himself, for that fateful burst of wrath?
Shall we blame a world that brands any woman separated from her husband—whether by death or misfortune , as a widow to be scorned?
Or blame destiny itself, ever shifting, never merciful…?

“Ah-Qing! Stop! Stop at once!” Hu Bin rushed in, wrenching the rod from his daughter’s hand, while the servants hurried to snatch the little boy into their arms.
“Father, why stop me?! If my son grows unruly and wayward, I would rather commit a sin against the ancestors and beat him to death!”
“But when you erred, did I ever beat you? Did I ever curse you?” Hu Bin’s voice trembled with both anger and grief as he sought to pierce her frenzy. “Tell me honestly, are you beating Ping’er to teach him, or merely to vent the bitterness in your own heart?”
And though Ah-Ping was beaten so harshly, in his eyes, his mother was still his mother—the one he loved most, revered most, worshiped as though she were a goddess.
“Mama… Ah-Ping is sorry…” His small sobs pierced her heart, dragging her back to herself. In that instant her spirit collapsed under the weight of shame and sorrow.
She longed to gather him in her arms, to beg forgiveness, but her guilt—knowing she had punished him far beyond reason ,barred her. Instead, she fled, running to her chamber to weep alone in bitter anguish.
“Guan-ge… I miss you …If only you were here with me and our child…”
Suddenly, she felt the bedding beside her sink just a little, followed by the warm touch brushing against her tear-streaked cheek. Turning her head, she saw the one she feared most to face.
“Mama…”

Hu Qingyue turned away, unable to bear the sight of the son she had just beaten in a fit of rage. Her tears flowed afresh, soaking into the pillow, her hands clutching the quilt tightly, though for what reason she could not tell.
“Ah-Ping promises… Ah-Ping won’t fight with anyone again, even if they mock me for not having a father…” The little boy tried to find words that might ease his mother’s heart. “Ah-Ping will be a good boy. I know that people who get angry and hit others are not nice people. Ah-Ping doesn’t want to be bad. I want to be Mama’s good boy, and Grandfather’s, too.”
“But Mama just beat you… does that make me not nice, then?” Hu Qingyue murmured through her tears.
“No,” he said firmly. “Grandfather told me that sometimes grown-ups can become not nice, and that’s not wrong.” The child crept closer, then threw his arms around her from behind. “Ah-Ping loves Mama. I want Mama to be happy. Mama, please turn and talk to Ah-Ping… please, please, please.”
Who could endure such words? Certainly not Hu Qingyue. She pushed herself up and turned, gathering her son tightly into her arms, sobbing with every shudder of his small body as he nuzzled her with innocent affection. Her hands moved over him, as though she could stroke away both the bruises on his skin and the sins on her heart.
“Mama… may Ah-Ping drink milk?” His wide eyes looked up at her.
Hu Qingyue gave no answer but laid him across her lap, opened one side of her robe, and let him nurse as he wished. She tried with all her strength not to weep again, for fear her sorrow might sour the milk with bitterness.

“Once upon a time…” Hu Qingyue began a tale. “There was a princess… a princess from the desert, who journeyed to the Yellow Land. And there she fell in love with a handsome young man.”
The little boy gazed up at his mother, eyes shining as though a thousand stars dwelled within them. As he nursed from her breast, he listened with rapt attention to her story.
“She took him to see many lands. Sometimes they had to fight against bandits, sometimes they met strange creatures, or people whose faces they had never seen before… But in the end, they decided that no place was better than the Yellow Land, fertile and peaceful. When they returned, the young man asked the princess to be his wife.”
That night stretched on endlessly… so long that I, the narrator, wished I could skip ahead to the day when the three of them—father, mother, and child would be reunited. But alas, to do so now would be rushing too quickly.
“They were wed, and all who attended said they were the perfect match. Only one—the son of a nobleman of the Yellow Land who grew envious of the young man and longed to claim the princess for himself. But that day had not yet come.” Her voice trembled as she forced herself to shape memories of the past into a tale her young son could understand.
“One night, the princess dreamt of a white crane, flying down from the north. It descended from the sky and landed upon the waters, crying out more than thirty times. Then it turned into a star—one that shone with pure white light. And the princess swallowed it. Not long after, she bore the young man a son… a boy whose skin was as white as that star, and as white as the crane’s feathers.”
Hu Qingyue closed her eyes, drew a long breath, then opened them again to gaze into the farthest distance—as though searching for someone who was not there.
“The princess and the young man thought they would live happily ever after… until the night when the nobleman’s son broke in to steal her away. The young man, in that fateful moment, struck him down. And so he was exiled from the Yellow Land, leaving the princess and her child behind—to wait, and wait, and wait for the day he would return.”

From that day on, Ah-Ping remained Ah-Ping: still the same bright, cheerful, and sturdy little boy.
Yet when the bullies taunted him as the “son of a widow,” he simply chose silence, and walked away. As though hearing without truly listening, unmoved by their empty words.
For so long as he still had his mother, his grandfather, and his “father” with him… he had no need to hurt anyone out of anger or sorrow.

Is that not so?

Chapter Text

Time passed, and kept passing still. And now, my dear listeners, the hour has come when we must bid farewell to one of our important characters…
All voices in the circle cry out in lamentation: “Alas, alas, alas…”
It was the summer of the sixth year of the Zhongping era (189 AD), the final year of Emperor Ling of Han’s reign. You all surely know well that within the palace, disasters were about to unfold—events that would ripple through the empire and shape the very beginning of the Three Kingdoms.
Yet before the Son of Heaven’s death, another life in this world, a life that had endured for many decades, also reached its end.
The life of a man of two bloodlines in one body , who lived by the order of the Han, yet saw the world with broader horizons… this man, named Hu Bin.
The first to visit him that day was none other than Hu Qingyue, his one and only daughter. As she had always done, she massaged his weary limbs and washed his feet—duties performed with the heart of a daughter devoted to her aging father.
“Ah-Qing…” he said to her, wearing that familiar smile, “When the day comes that your father is no longer here, you must be strong, my child.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Love and take good care of little Ping’er. Raise him into a man of virtue, one who serves his country well. And… do not strike or scold him without reason. Just as I never struck or scolded you, so too must you follow my example.”
Never did Hu Qingyue imagine that those words, and that touch, would be the very last she would ever receive from her father while he still lived.

The second, and the last, could be none other than Guan Ping—the seven-year-old boy, both son and grandson of this household.
That day, he was running about the grounds that once served as a place of learning for many young men in Hedong—the very place where his father in his youth had once walked, practiced his arts, and studied. Now it lay empty and silent, ever since the master of the academy had chosen not to take in students anymore, from the day his son-in-law had been forced to depart this world.
The little boy played with his faithful companion, Xiao Bai, a small white puppy. Before long, his eyes fell upon his grandfather, seated cross-legged and motionless in the pavilion nearby. Guan Ping’s wide eyes fixed on that figure, filled with both innocence and curiosity. Slowly, he padded over and climbed up to sit at his side.
“Grandfather… are you asleep?” the boy tilted his head, gazing at Hu Bin who sat so still. Had he noticed just a little more, he would have seen that though there was still a smile on his grandfather’s face, the chest beneath no longer rose or fell.
“Maybe he’s cold… I’ll go fetch a blanket for him!” the child chirped brightly, scrambling down from the pavilion and calling to his puppy, “Come, Xiao Bai! Let’s bring Grandfather a blanket!”
But only minutes later, when Ping’er came running back, blanket in hand, he froze. Before him stood a crowd of people, weeping bitterly, gathered around the lifeless figure of the household’s patriarch. At the very front, closest to that body, sat none other than his mother.
“Mama…” Guan Ping whispered, stepping up to her side, his innocent eyes searching her face and the faces of the many mourners around them. “Why is everyone crying? And why… why won’t Grandfather wake up and talk to me?”
No answer came to him ,only a tight embrace, heavy with silent grief. Hu Qingyue could not allow herself to break down. Not now, on the day when the head of the household, the pillar of them all, had departed forever ,gone to a world no living soul could cross, not even in dreams.

The funeral was simple, attended only by a handful of servants and a few former disciples. And yet, for the mother and her child, the world around them seemed to shrink smaller and smaller—as though one day it might collapse entirely.
Little Guan Ping, that sweet and innocent boy , could not understand why he had to wear white, why his mother and the others wept so bitterly, or why his beloved Grandpa would not wake to play or speak with him ever again.
Still, from that day onward, Ping’er understood one thing: his mother would be lonelier than before. Even if he could not truly grasp the meaning of “Grandfather will never wake again,” he knew he had to try his best to make her happy—in every little way a child his age could.
On nights when his mother wept alone, he would slip into her bed, wrap his arms around her from behind, and nuzzle her with tender affection.
Sometimes he would even tickle her at the waist until she laughed, forgetting her sorrow for a brief moment.
Other times, simply climbing onto her lap and planting a soft kiss on her cheek was enough to bring warmth back to her heart.

As for our beautiful heroine— as a daughter of Hu Bin, who had held some standing in society, and with her husband long absent, while she still remained youthful and lovely despite already bearing a child… I feel uneasy saying this, but truth must be told: all these things were more than enough to make her the target of lustful young men in Hedong.
“Hey there, lady. How about coming to live with me? I’ll even take your boy as my adopted son, and provide for both of you well.”
“Ah-Qing~ Won’t you give me a chance?”
“Your husband must be dead by now, right? Better find a new one. How about me?”
Oh heavens… oh, I—I could vomit at such words! (Someone in the circle passes me a cup of water.) Ah… thank you kindly. I cannot help it—this black cat despises such vile men, lecherous and shameless, who think persistence alone can win the world.
I despise them so much I almost wish they would all just vanish forever.

Woman from Dayuan: “Hmph! If Guan-ge were here, those men wouldn’t dare even show their faces to court her!”
Dancer girl: “The world is rotten precisely because of men like this!”
Wandering Warrior: “What a pitiful way to approach a woman! And to the wrong one at that! Her husband isn’t even dead, damn it!”
Monk : “Even if a woman lives apart from her husband, that does not mean she is anyone’s to trespass upon, my child…”
Ah, yes—that’s it. Thank you, dear listeners, both men and women alike, for reminding me not to lose hope in this world.
You must be wondering how our heroine would handle such advances, no? In truth… the answer is so simple you would never have guessed it.
“Who are you to meddle with my mother?! Get out of here!”
“Grandfather always said men who pester women when they don’t like it are not nice at all!”
“This is Ping’er’s mama! And Ping’er won’t let Mama belong to anyone else!”
Everyone (except the monk): “Ha! Ha! Ha! There it is!!!”
I forgot to mention, didn’t I? Though Ping’er had long given up settling quarrels with his fists , ever since the day he was punished by his mother—if anyone dared to harass her, they had better prepare to have their ears nagged off by this cute little boy.
No need to tell you, I suppose, whose sharp tongue he takes after most?

In truth, beyond his gentle manners and endearing ways, little Ping’er was also known for his peculiar remarks and actions , more like those of a refined young gentleman than a mischievous boy at play.
Some who came to know him would whisper in amazement: “This child is like a scholar trapped in the body of a small boy—what grace and dignity he has!”
Once, his nanny named Ah-Mu, recounted an incident that had happened while taking the young master out for a stroll.
“Just imagine it, milady. That merchant—the one who once tried to court you—came up again, holding out sweets and toys.”
“And what did Ping’er do?” asked Hu Qingyue.
“Oh! The young master refused, of course. Not only that—he looked the man in the eye and said…”
‘Even if Uncle gives me lots of sweets and toys, I still won’t tell Mama to change her heart and love you instead’
“At that, the man’s face went pale as though he’d just seen a ghost! Ha! Ha!”
Hu Qingyue laughed softly, then answered the nanny “Ping’er has only me, his mother. It’s no surprise he guards me so fiercely. But still, I wonder… where on earth did he get such boldness to talk back like that?”
“Who else, if not the late master and you yourself, milady!” Ah-Mu replied. At that, the two women burst into laughter together.

You may still be wondering ,after the passing of Hu Bin, what became of Hu Qingyue and little Ping’er?
Rest assured, the properties and wealth Hu Bin had once held remained in their possession, more than enough to sustain the lives of mother, son, and their household of servants.
Yet Hu Qingyue, who had learned the harsh lesson of impermanence from the downfall of her husband’s clan, did not simply resign herself to idling as a genteel lady. Instead, she began to take on all manner of work to bring in income for everyone under her roof.
At times she accepted commissions for glazed ceramics. At times she went to tend the sick in the homes of the well-to-do. At times she carried her basket to the market, calling out to sell medicines. There was no shame in any of it.
For when the work is honest—neither cheating others nor selling one’s body ,how could it be shameful?
“Young mistress, please… let me carry the medicines to market in your stead. There’s no need for you to do such things,” one servant pleaded, trying to take the load from her shoulders.
But Hu Qingyue only shook her head. “I’ve harmed no one in this work. Don’t worry about yourself.”

One curious thing—something that even I myself still find surprising was that beyond their ordinary daily lives, Hu Qingyue and Ping’er seemed to hold a particular interest in matters of governance and politics.
“Mama, Ah-Ping overheard people near the yamen saying the new Emperor is just a child!”
“And what do you think of that, my son?”
“Well… I’m not thirteen like His Majesty. But if it were me, I wouldn’t want to sit so high up when I still don’t know how to care for so many people.”
The boy frowned, tilting his head. “Ah… I feel sorry for him. He’s still so young.”
On another occasion, when the tyrant Dong Zhuo deposed Emperor Shao—Prince Bian from the throne:
“Mama! That man named Dong Zhuo did a terrible thing! The position of Son of Heaven shouldn’t be stripped away so easily!”
“I hope… that His Majesty will not be harmed.”
Of course, those words would never come true. Soon after, the young Emperor who had been reduced to the title of Prince was poisoned together with his mother—just a year before Dong Zhuo would raise Prince Xie to the throne as Emperor Xie of Han.
Ah… as this world twists further and further into distortion, you and I are left with but a single hope: that such corruption will not strike down this mother and child with cruelty.

Well then, my listeners here and there ,you must be growing impatient to know when Guan Yu would at last reunite with his wife and son.
In that case, allow me to give you a foretaste of that moment!
It was the second year of the Chuping era. (191 AD) Guan Ping was nine years old, about to follow his mother on another ordinary day of selling medicines. Both believed this day would be no different from any other. Until… a man on horseback suddenly drew up before them.
He was tall and somewhat lanky, with dark skin and a scar running down the left side of his face. His bearing was rough and intimidating, the kind of reckless air that only young men carry. Judging by his attire, he was surely someone of rank or at least a subordinate of someone important.
Hu Qingyue did not panic. She only pulled her son close, protective in case he became frightened.
Yet both she and the stranger were taken aback when little Ping’er squared his shoulders, glared up at the dark-faced man, and cried out:
“Don’t you dare trouble my mother! My Grandfather, who’s gone to Heaven, taught me how to fight too! If you want trouble, come at me!”
The dark-faced youth—whom you’ve surely guessed by now grinned, flashing his white fangs, and muttered softly:
“That’s right… this must be Er-ge’s son!”
“Er-ge…?”
Hu Bin’s daughter caught her breath at the word. Her wide eyes welled with tears, as though her long-parched heart had just been drenched by a shower of sweet rain.
The man dismounted, dropped to one knee, pressed his hands together in salute, and spoke with solemnity:
“My name is Zhang Fei, courtesy name Yide, sworn brother of Lord Liu Bei and Guan Yu. Out of compassion, Lord Liu has sent me here to escort Sister-in-law and her son, to bring you both to safety in Pingyuan County.”
Soon after, a train of carriages and soldiers arrived before the Hu residence—clear proof that the man’s words had been nothing but the truth.
Zhang Fei bowed his head low once more.
“Dearest Hu-jie! Please accept me as a younger brother as well! This Zhang Fei has heard endless words of praise from Er-ge about you. I beg you, accept this humble bow of mine!”

O blossom born in Hedong fair, farewell from your old hall.
When shall you find your soil again? When shall you heed its call?
Go, follow winds of gentle breath, go with the tender sun.
Drift, drift into awaiting arms—where two shall be made one.

Chapter Text

“Hm… why is it taking so long? Don’t tell me San-di got distracted and stopped somewhere on the way…”
Liu Xuande, now the Governor of Pingyuan County, paced back and forth in the residence. His restless steps made Er-di Guan Yunchang, along with the servants and clerks, worry that he might faint before the awaited reunion even arrived.
“Da-ge, please sit and rest. They’ll be here any moment now.”
Though Yunchang spoke in his usual calm tone, as if untouched by emotions, his heart was pounding so violently it felt as if his chest would burst. The joy of finally seeing his wife and son again, after nine long years of separation, overwhelmed him. If not for Da-ge’s concern and determination, this day would never have come.

“Sir! General Zhang has arrived, together with the wife and son of General Guan!” The messenger ran in, breathless yet grinning. Liu Xuande waved the rider away, then quickly turned and pulled his younger brother up by the shoulders. His voice trembled as he spoke.
“At last, the day has come when my younger brother will be reunited with his family! Well? Are you not overjoyed?”
Guan Yunchang dropped to his knees, clasping his hands in salute, lowering his face to hide the tears that spilled behind his sleeve. “Da-ge has shown Guan Yu such boundless kindness… I… am ashamed, for I know not how I can ever repay it.”
“Say no more, Er-di.” Xuande raised him up again. “Your family is no different from mine and San-di’s. Let me do at least this much for those who have fought at my side.”

Both elder brothers snapped their heads toward the entrance the moment the doors swung open—revealing Zhang Yide swaggering in with that familiar sly-tiger grin plastered on his face.
“I’m heeereee~! Sorry I’m late, I just stopped by to pick up some fine clothes for Hu-jie and a few toys for my dear nephew.”
“Yes… a few,” the two elder brothers echoed in unison, weariness plain in their voices. “A few that took you nearly mid-afternoon.”
“Aiya! I only wanted my sister-in-law to look every bit the beautiful wife of a general!” Zhang Yide protested with a sulky huff. “And as for Ah-Ping… ahhhh, I can’t keep it in any longer! That boy is just too adorable! Adorable enough to melt even a rough brute like me!”
“Well then, tell us—how exactly is my nephew so adorable?” Liu Xuande teased lightly.
“Well… ever since we left Hedong all those weeks ago, the little fellow would always draw back the carriage curtain just to chat with me. His chirping little voice—”
“San-shu! Is my father a soldier like you?”
“San-shu! San-shu! May I try riding a horse with you?”
“San-shu, are you tired? Here, Ping will share his water with you!”
“Oh, brothers! Not a single crude or nasty word from him! I swear, Hu-jie must have raised him well…”
‘Ah… all this time, how much hardship have you borne, my dearest?’ Guan Yunchang murmured inwardly as he stroked his beard in silence.
‘Yet just from hearing San-di’s tales, I feel proud of you, Ah-Qing, for raising our son into such a fine child.’

“The wife and son of General Guan have arrived!”
The official’s voice rang out, followed by the mingled rhythm of footsteps—some heavy, some light that drew every eye in the hall. It was as if the audience were watching a stage, waiting breathlessly for the actors to emerge from behind the curtain, ready to step into the next act of life’s unending play.
“Bah! Hu-jie! I told you to wear the clothes I bought for you as soon as you got here!”
The young Master Zhang was the first to burst out in complaint the moment Hu Qingyue appeared—still clad in the same simple village woman’s dress she had worn back in Hedong. Even little Ping, her son, was dressed no differently than before.
“General Zhang, please… don’t trouble yourself so.” Her voice was soft, almost apologetic. “I truly feel indebted.”
“Tch! Indebted, my foot! And stop calling me that! Just call me Ah-Fei!”

Liu Xuande stepped away from his sworn brothers to take a closer look, though he kept a respectful distance from the woman and child before him so as not to appear improper.
His long, almond-shaped eyes swept over Lady Hu from the hem of her dress up to the crown of her head, scrutinizing her with quiet care, before a faint smile curved his lips.
“Other than the moles beneath both eyes, there is no flaw to be found. You are as beautiful as Er-di claimed.”
‘Those are not moles, Governor…’ Hu Qingyue longed to explain the markings on her face, but courtesy and shyness sealed her lips. She lowered her gaze instead, offering only a polite bow of greeting.
From behind, Zhang Yide cut in with a laugh. “Moles are a good thing! That way no other man will try to steal her from Er-ge!”
As for little Ah-Ping, he shuffled closer behind his mother’s skirt, uneasy amid so many unfamiliar faces. Even so, he peeked out now and then, his wide eyes shining with curiosity—adorable enough to draw a soft chuckle from those watching.
“Guan Ping, is it?” Liu Xuande asked gently. When the boy glanced at him, he beckoned with a small gesture. At once, Ah-Ping let go of his mother’s hem and toddled toward him. Smiling, Xuande drew a small parcel from the sleeve of his robe and handed it to the child.
“Take this. And from now on… you and your mother shall have much more.”
Ah-Ping accepted the bundle of sweets with shy hands, but he did not forget to bow in thanks. That single gesture was enough to melt every heart in the room.
“Er-ge, won’t you say something~?” the mischievous tiger Zhang Yide teased, nudging Guan Yunchang in the ribs.
‘Why would I not want to speak? Not want to rush in and embrace my wife and child? But… I left them behind for so long…’
‘I truly don’t know what to do now.’

Liu Xuande turned to the attendants and maids who had entered with practiced efficiency, giving his orders:
“See to it that the wife and son of General Guan are well cared for. Prepare a warm bath, find them proper clothing. Ah, and don’t forget—invite the two of them to dine with us this evening.”
“Yes, sir.”
“At once, sir.”
As the two dearest to his heart were led away in another direction, Guan Yunchang instinctively reached out, his lips parting as though he might finally speak the words that had been sealed inside him.
But the moment he caught the cold, wounded look in the eyes of the woman who had once been the jewel of his life, he faltered again. All he could do was stand there, rooted in place, watching his wife and child retreat farther and farther from sight.
“That look? I’d say she’s definitely mad at him,” Zhang Yide muttered knowingly under his breath.
Liu Xuande could only sigh softly, thinking to himself:
‘I’ll be rooting for you, Er-di.’

As the days went by, the atmosphere within the Governor’s residence at Pingyuan did not improve in the slightest…
Don’t believe it? Then hear for yourselves the whispers of the clerks and servants inside!
“General Guan’s wife must be terribly upset—she hasn’t allowed the Commander into her chambers even once.”
“She only sleeps with young Master Guan Ping beside her, leaving the General waiting outside night after night. I almost pity him.”
“And at meals, they sit side by side as though for form’s sake alone. As for the young master—he still seems a little stiff, not really playing with his father at all. Nothing like how lively he gets with General Zhang!”

Of course, such matters could hardly escape the notice of Da-ge and San-di—nor even of Liu Bei’s important comrade who frequently visited: Gongsun Zan.
“Bo-gui… I truly pity this younger brother of mine,” Liu Xuande muttered weakly as he sipped his tea, eyes still on the game of weiqi before him.
Gongsun Zan exhaled a soft sigh. “Xuande, this is something Guan Yu must resolve himself. Outsiders like us cannot meddle.”
Zhang Yide, however, had been lounging nearby, and upon hearing this, suddenly slapped the table as an idea struck.
“I’ve got it! I’ll disguise myself as a bandit and pretend to abduct Hu-jie. Then Da-ge or Bo-gui can summon Er-ge, and he’ll fight me to rescue her!”
“Idiot!!!” Xuande and Gongsun Zan shouted in unison.
Gongsun Zan jabbed a finger at him, scolding : “Have you lost your wits?! Who in their right mind would go along with such a plan? Lady Hu would probably see through the act in an instant!”

Sigh… One cannot truly blame Lord Guan for vanishing from Hedong for nine long years. Nor can one fault the natural resentments stirring in the heart of Lady Hu Qingyue. It all just leaves a strange ache in my chest—perhaps I shouldn’t continue—
The Dancer: “No!!!”
The Woman from Dayuan: “You mustn’t stop! No holding back! Tell us right now how the hero will win back the heroine!”
The Court Official and His Wife: “Yes, yes!”
The Merchant’s Wife: “If you don’t tell us, I’ll shake you until you yowl like a cat!”
Me: Meowww~! Fine, fine, I won’t tease anymore!
But tell me—have you braced your hearts? For what I am about to recount may make them tremble so hard you’ll lose sleep tonight. And perhaps… the next time you look upon the statue of Lord Guan Yu in a temple, you may find yourself seeing him in quite a different light. Heehee~!

As dusk deepened and night drew near, a chill crept into the air. That evening, little Ping had begged his mother’s leave to stay with his Da-bo and San-shu, leaving only Hu Qingyue ,now truly the wife of the great general— within Guan Yu’s quarters.
She had just returned from preparing medicine, one of her cherished pastimes, resigned to spending a lonely night alone… until—
Thud!
“Ah… you!” Lady Hu tried to turn away, but the warrior of the Guan clan seized her wrist. His grip was firm, yet careful not to cause her pain.
“How long do you mean to keep avoiding me… Ah-Qing?”
She met his gaze, eyes flashing with anger long pent up. “And since when does General Guan care?”
“I am sorry… These years I was consumed with suppressing the Yellow Turbans, and aiding Xuande in his endeavors. Even if I wished to send word to you, I had no one I could entrust with the letters.” The red-faced, black-bearded man offered reasons and necessity, but she only gave a bitter, scornful smile before spitting out words that could wound deeper than any blade:
“The capital shines brighter than the countryside. Palace ladies and ministers’ daughters are fairer than a farmer’s girl. Now that you are a general… Where is your true wife? Show her to this lowly concubine, that I might admire her beauty!”

Oh no… oh no… oh no!
Did she not realize those words were tinder, the perfect fuel to set aflame the heart of this man?

“Is that so? Then I shall prove to you that through all these nine years… there has been no one but you.”
With those whispered words, Guan Yunchang swept his wife up into his arms and carried her straight into the bedchamber, heedless of her shrieks and scratching hands.
“You wretched man! Put me down! Kyaaa!!!” Lady Hu cried out as he laid her gently upon the bed—only to press close at once, his rough beard grazing her neck, his roaming hands like serpents coiling along her form. The strange, unfamiliar touches drove her half-mad, her breath caught in her throat.
“Let me go, you lecher!”
“The very lecher you curse… is the one who has loved you, and only you.”

Ah, dear listeners…I cannot bring myself to describe in plain words what the two of them did as man and woman that night. Even to imagine it is enough to melt both heart and mind into vapor!
Yet this much I may say: while the two , man and woman —“fought” upon the battlefield of love, with teasing that drove one nearly mad and with devotion born of long yearning, their passion became the very glue that bound two sundered souls into one again.
“You cruel man… you bullied me, and then dared to kiss my cheek,” the tormented wife sobbed, yet still nestled against his chest, unwilling to move away.
“And since you’re the only one I have, who else could I tease but you?” the so-called tormentor whispered playfully, holding her fast. “Now then ,do you believe me at last, that I have only you, and no other, Hm?”
“Mmm… very well, I believe you…” Hu Qingyue murmured in a soft, coaxing tone.
She thought she would finally drift to sleep within her husband’s arms that night. Yet little did she know how fierce the power of longing and thirst could be.
“Oh? But I don’t believe you’re free of doubt just yet.”
“G–Guan-ge! What are you—?! KYAAAAAAA!!!”

And after that… the master and his lady did not emerge from their chambers for three whole days and nights. The servants whispered and speculated endlessly about what they might be doing inside—but woe betide any unlucky soul who wandered too close, for their face would flush red before they knew it! Meow~!

Chapter Text

“Mama, where are we going?”

The question came from young Guan Ping, who by now had grown older. No longer the nine-year-old child of yesteryear, he was nearly twelve turning thirteen — a boy stepping closer each day toward youth and manhood.

Lady Hu, his mother whose beauty never faded, smiled tenderly before replying, “To Xuzhou, my dear. Our lord has been appointed Governor there.”

In her arms sat a boy of barely over one year in age, yet already the size of a three- or four-year-old. His chubby limbs invited pinching, and if one but glanced at that ruddy skin and small face — there was no need to ask who the father was.

Yes, this child was Guan Xing, born around the second year of the Chuping era (A.D. 193), the second son of Guan Yu and Lady Hu. He was thus the younger brother, by the same mother, of Guan Ping.

Permit me to say this: the birth of this second son was truly a stroke of fortune beyond measure.

First, Guan Yu’s standing at the time — a general and retainer of Liu Bei, who was then magistrate of Pingyuan Commandery and in good political relations with Gongsun Zan — was favorable. It was an opportune stage of life to welcome another child without hardship or want.

Second, little Xing, nicknamed Ah-Xing, was born robust and whole, without defect, surviving the fragile years of infancy.

Third, he had an elder brother like Guan Ping — a boy who bore not a shred of jealousy, but had long wished for a younger sibling. When the little one was born, Guan Ping poured out love and care upon him, as much as an eleven-year-old elder brother could give.

Now to the present (the first year of Xingping, A.D. 194): the three sat within a carriage covered on all sides, closely guarded by mounted and foot soldiers who encircled it in escort.

“Look! There’s Father!” Guan Ping cried as he pulled aside the curtain. “Father! Father! We’re here!”

Ah-Xing, sitting upon his mother’s lap, began to call out too: “Ba… Baba!”

Lady Hu reached out to pull her elder son’s sleeve and shook her head. “No, child. Your father is on horseback. He needs all his focus. Don’t distract him.”

“I wasn’t distracting him, Mama!” Guan Ping argued, his brows knotting in a sulky frown. “I only wanted to speak to him a little!”

Clop, clop, clop…

A moment later, hoofbeats drew up beside the carriage. The familiar phoenix-bright eyes appeared at the little opening.

“What is it, son? You called to me so loudly,” said Guan Yunchang, striving to keep a straight face, though a smile tugged unbidden at his lips.

“We just wanted to see your face up close… well, Ah-Xing too,” Guan Ping said, using his brother as excuse, though truth be told, perhaps it was only he himself who longed to gaze at his father.

As for Ah-Xing, after calling out once, he had fallen quiet, fixing his gaze on his father in a blank, unreadable stare — no different from the man himself.

“Guan-ge,” Lady Hu chided in the tone of a wife to a strict general, “you’re indulging the child too much.”

Her husband laughed low in his throat at her scowl. “Your late father, Master Hu, spoiled you endlessly, and yet you did not grow up capricious or unreasonable.”

“Enough! Back to the front of the line with you!” Lady Hu waved her fan at him, flustered, then turned her face away. But she could not escape the sharp eyes of Guan Ping, who waited eagerly to tease her.

“See, Ah-Xing? Mother’s face has gone all red!”

“Silence, you! It’s only the heat!”

Before long, they arrived in their new land — broader and brighter than the “home” they had left behind. Around them stretched fertile fields, and the people seemed more numerous than those of Pingyuan Commandery.

At twenty-seven, Lady Hu could sense even through the thin bamboo blinds that this world she must now inhabit was unfamiliar. Yet she believed that, given time, she would grow accustomed and live here without worry.

“Good thing Da-bo accepted Governor Tao Qian’s offer,” the twelve-year-old boy muttered idly. “Otherwise this city would already have been destroyed by Lord Cao…”

“But if it were me,” Lady Hu replied, “I would likely have lost my senses no less than Lord Cao. After all, everyone loves their father. If fault is to be laid, it should rest upon Zhang Kai, Tao Qian’s greedy subordinate, who murdered Cao Song, Lord Cao’s father.”

Mew! I shall not bore you with the trivialities of unloading belongings and settling into the new residence. This black cat is far too lazy to dwell on such small details that matter little to the main story — do not scold me for it.

For the true delight lies in what came at dusk — the evening celebration of the new governor’s appointment!

“Ah—there! Is that young Guan Ping?” Gongsun Zan called out when he saw the boy following behind his parents.

Caught in the address of an elder, Guan Ping clasped his hands and bowed.

“Guan Ping pays his respects to Lord Bogui.”

“So this is the son of General Guan Yu? Truly a handsome lad!” one guest exclaimed.

“And how old are you now?” asked another.

“Twelve years, sir.”

“Ha!” Gongsun Zan slapped his knee. “I’d have thought fourteen or fifteen at least! Heaven, children do grow quickly… Not long ago you weren’t even as tall as your father’s waist!”

From the central seat, Liu Xuande gazed fondly at the boy, unchanged in his affection.

“My nephew has always been fair of face, and his manners are no less comely.”

“Hah! Hah! Sometimes I could swear he were a maiden dressed in men’s robes!”
Liu Biao, Governor of Jingzhou, jested lightly. Laughter rippled among the banquet guests. Yet those words, though spoken without malice, cut like a hidden blade into certain hearts.

Guan Yu and Lady Hu concealed their pain well, maintaining calm expressions and faint smiles. Their eldest son, however—he sprang up from his seat, his voice fierce with indignation:

“No one should ever speak of me with such words!”

With that, he stormed out, face aflame with anger. Silence fell, broken only by murmurs. His parents rose, bowing low in apology.

“Forgive us, gentlemen. Our son is still young and ignorant. We shall discipline him ourselves.”

“You—come speak to your mother at once!” Lady Hu barked, bowing once more before striding ahead of her husband, her expression dark with displeasure. That alone was enough to make every man in the hall feel an unseasonable chill.

“Xuande… I should not… should not have said that,” Liu Biao admitted in a small voice.

“Let it be, let the family settle it—”

“Why’d you go and tease my nephew like that, eh?!” Zhang Fei’s bellow shattered the moment, only to be muffled by his elder brother’s hand clapped firmly over his mouth.

Guan Ping stood by the wall, eyes brimming with tears. His lips, once smiling and red as peony petals, were now pressed into a straight line. His brows, once graceful like drawn bows, were knotted tight and robbed of their beauty. His chest swelled with confusion and anger—yet he could not release it as fully as he wished.

“So here you are, troublesome child? Come speak with your father and mother this instant!”

At his mother’s voice, he turned, yet did nothing more than lower his head and listen to her reproach. His father stood at her side, unable to intervene.

“Have I not taught you never to answer back to your elders? And what did you just do? How disgraceful! What will others think of your father?”

“You don’t understand me, Mother!” Guan Ping cried, striking his chest lightly with a fist.
“I love Father, and I love you. I know what shames you both. But tell me this—why must others mock me by saying I resemble a woman?”

Lady Hu retorted, “That is their affair! What pains me is not their words, but the fact you raised your voice at your elders!”

He looked at her, eyes stubborn yet wounded.

“But do you feel good hearing such things? Does Father? I may be weak at times, tender, and even cry now and then—but I am not a woman!”

Her breath caught at her son’s words.

“I never said the beauty I inherited from you was bad, Mother… I am glad I was born resembling you.”

Guan Ping drew a long breath, lifting his face so the tears would not fall. “But the only ones allowed to say I am beautiful like you… are Father, Da-bo, and San-shu.”

She gazed into those large round eyes, so like her own, and the past stabbed her like a needle.

She remembered six years ago—the tears of her six-year-old son after she had whipped him for fighting a bully who had called her a “widow.” And now, his tears flowed from the pain of being mocked by older men. How little the difference was.

“Mother is Father’s wife, and my mother… and Ah-Xing’s mother,” the boy murmured. “If Father is allowed to be protective of you, then so am I. When that man spoke of you through my beauty… to me, it felt no different from his hands defiling you.”

A cool breeze stirred, as though the world itself sought to soothe the three from being crushed too heavily by human complexity.

At last, the bearded general, silent all this while, stepped closer to his son. Without a word, he stroked the boy’s dark-brown hair with tenderness. Lady Hu pulled her son into her arms, holding him tight against her breast.

“My son… I never knew you thought this way. Forgive me.”

Night had fallen. The eldest son of the Guan household was sent to sleep in his own quarters, his younger brother nestled beside him. Yet the parents could not find rest. They lay awake, holding one another close upon their bed, bound by a lingering ache that would not fade.

“Guan-ge… was it because of me?” Hu Qingyue whispered, her eyes brimming as her small hand clutched tightly at her husband’s night-robe. “Because of me… Ah-Ping…”

“No… it was never your fault, my dearest,”

Guan Yunchang soothed, stroking her head with gentleness. To comfort her, he spoke of a saying: “I once heard it said that a son who inherits his mother’s beauty is destined for fortune and long life. I am glad, truly glad, that Ah-Ping resembles you.”

Hu Qingyue pressed her face into his chest, still unconsoled. “And you… have you ever felt ashamed to have a wife like me? I am not like other women…”

“Never speak such words,” her husband murmured. He lowered his face into her wavy brown hair, breathing in its fragrance — sweeter than oils, lovelier than any blossom.

“You have stayed with me since the days of hardship, a true companion through suffering. You are a good mother to our sons. You have even lent your quiet voice in counsel to Lord Xuande at times. Tell me, what is there for me to feel shame about?”

Ah, heavens… this black cat must ask: what will become of their lives? Can you answer me?

If no answer is certain, then grant me only a small blessing… a very small one indeed…

Please… please… let them not suffer more than this.

Chapter Text

Now then, let us leap ahead to the second year of the Xingping reign (195 CE)—a year after the previous tale. For it is here that turmoil shall befall the fledgling birds in the Peach Blossom Grove, in the city of Xuzhou.

“Who is that man? He looks so imposing, majestic even… yet terrifying.”

“Lü Bu! The general who slew the tyrant Dong Zhuo!”

“May the prefect not accept him in. A man so faithless… it chills me to the bone.”

Lü Bu, styled Fengxian, was a northerner. As for his true parents, none knew; only that Ding Yuan had once adopted him as a foster son and made him his trusted commander.

This Lü Bu stood tall as a giant, broad and mighty of frame. In martial prowess there was scarcely an equal—whether in the spear, the sword, or combat atop a horse. Some even gave him the epithet of the “Flying General” (飛將 Feijiang). Yet his feats on the battlefield were forever overshadowed by the infamy of his treachery.

He had slain his first foster father, Ding Yuan, for the sake of serving the despot Dong Zhuo, and for lusting after a fine horse—the Red Hare.

He had conspired with Wang Yun and the court ministers to kill Dong Zhuo, and though one might call that a righteous deed, none could deny that his motives were base: he only did it to be closer to a maidservant in Dong Zhuo’s household. (What’s that? Diaochan, you say? Oh, please. No such name exists in the official histories.)

And now, driven out by Li Jue and Guo Si, wandering without a stronghold, this Lü Bu arrives here. For what purpose, we wonder?

“Xing’er! Catch this!” cried thirteen-year-old Guan Ping as he kicked a cuju ball toward his two-year-old little brother.

“Ah—Ping’er! Don’t! Stop!!!”

Their father, Guan Yunchang, came rushing forward, scooping the younger child into his arms before rounding on his eldest.

“Have you lost your wits?! Your brother isn’t your size! What if that ball had bounced against his body—or his head?!”

The boy with the sweet, delicate face wilted at once. “But… Ping’er only wanted to let little brother play cuju too…”

“No! Not until he’s older!” Yunchang declared firmly. The toddler, still at the waddling age, simply stood still and watched everything unfold with those blank, doll-like eyes of his, expressionless as ever.

“Ha ha! Er-ge, you worry too much! Let the kid get knocked about a little, no harm done!”

That was Zhang Yide, the wild tiger of their band, bursting into laughter at the sight.

Guan Yu whipped his head around and snapped back immediately. “Easy for you to say when you’ve no children! Xing’er isn’t even five yet, damn it!”

Lady Hu, who had come from the other side, covered her mouth to stifle a laugh and teased her husband with a memory.

“Hehe...who was it again, who once rushed to me in tears carrying their eldest son with a nosebleed, begging me to press a cloth to it as though he’d bleed to death on the spot?”

“Ah-Qing! That was our son, how could you say that?!”

Truthfully, he wasn’t angry—just embarrassed.

Guan Ping grinned wide.

“Ah, that was when I was nine! I was playing shuttlecock (jianzi) with Father, and Father was so good at kicking that the shuttle flew—”

“Stop! Don’t say another word! Enough, Ping’er!” Yunchang shouted over him, yanking up his sleeve to cover his face.

“Mama, San-shu, look—Father is scolding me…”

Guan Ping pretended to sulk as he went to cling to Lady Hu. Xing’er, who had been clutching his father’s leg, promptly let go and latched onto his mother’s instead.

The bearded general, seeing the whole farce, could only press a hand to his brow and sigh.

“Wonderful. Both my sons—neither of them want their father.”

“What else can you expect? You make it too easy to abandon you,” his beloved wife quipped back lightly. At this, their younger brother roared with laughter, rolling on the floor in fits.

Yet the mood of merriment did not last long, for the elder of the household—Xuande—entered in haste, followed closely by Mi Zhu (麋竺), a wealthy merchant-scholar who had once served under Tao Qian, the late Governor of Xuzhou.

“My lord! Please, do not admit Lü Bu into the city!” Mi Zhu’s voice trembled. “Lü Bu is like a tiger cast into the river—if we help him ashore, who can say whether he will not turn and bite us?”

“Lord Mi… I know well the misery of having no roof over one’s head,” Xuande replied gravely. “When my brothers and I fled from Yan Province, our plight was desperate indeed. Had it not been for Gongsun Zan’s aid, I doubt I would be standing here at all.”

“I oppose this with every breath in my body!” roared Yide. “A man who twice slew his foster fathers for immediate gain—I see nothing good in him!”

“I concur,” said Yunchang firmly. His gaze then shifted to his wife, wordlessly signaling her to take their two sons back to their quarters. Lady Hu bowed in acknowledgment and led Guan Ping and Xing’er swiftly away.

Yet once she had handed the boys to the attendants and nurses, the woman of the Hu clan quietly returned, hiding herself behind the gate of the governor’s residence to eavesdrop on the men’s council.

“In truth, was it not to the good that he rid us of Dong Zhuo?” Xuande’s voice rang steady, laying out what merit Lü Bu might claim. “Do not forget—Dong Zhuo was but a foster father. And moreover, with that tyrant’s death, the Han court was spared a great calamity.”

Yunchang’s voice answered, stern with moral weight: “Even a foster father bears the name of benefactor. It is true that Dong Zhuo was vile, yet for Lü Bu to betray him is as depraved as a son who slays his own parents.”

Then came the growl of Yide: “And who is to say he will not turn the same treachery against you, elder brother? He is danger itself!”

“But think of this—because Lü Bu fought against Cao Cao at Puyang, Xuzhou was spared from ruin,” Xuande countered, pressing another precedent. “Now he is destitute, and must turn to us. Perhaps it will do no harm.”

With those words, he strode out to mount his horse and ride to greet the visitor… a guest whom, in truth, none of them truly wished to welcome.

Hu Qingyue was returning from the governor’s residence after she and her eldest son had gone in to administer acupressure to Liu Xuande. Now she walked alone along the corridor veranda, for her boy remained behind with his uncle, reading aloud passages from the classics.

Ah,there is something I have forgotten to tell you. Ever since the days in Pingyuan, whenever she was outside her own quarters or not at a banquet with her husband, she would wear a veil that covered her face from below the eyes to her chin. The cloth was thin, but not so sheer as to reveal all it concealed.

Why did she do this? I have three answers.

First, she did not wish the Han folk to see the markings beneath her eyes, lest they whisper that she bore unsightly moles or freckles.

Second, in tending to the sick, she would not fall ill herself, nor risk spreading sickness through breath or spittle.

Third, she knew well how rare men of kindness and sympathy were in this fallen age—rare as her lord Xuande, her husband Guan Yu, or the younger brother she cherished as kin, Zhang Fei.

And so now too, she wore the veil. She thought only to take a quiet stroll before returning to await her husband.

Until, that is, she encountered someone she neither expected nor wished to meet—indeed, someone she had never wished to know at all.

“Fair lady, what thoughts weigh upon you as you walk so absent-mindedly?”

His words, his manner seemed steeped in courtesy, belying the tales that painted this general as a barbarian brute. Yet in his eyes… there was something both terrifying and strangely familiar.

“Why do you not answer? Do you want trouble with Lü Fengxian? Speak, damn you!!!”

That harsh cry echoed in her mind, and in an instant the memory of Hanzhong—when she was but thirteen—flooded back. Realizing this, Hu Qingyue nearly collapsed where she stood.

Her body longed to flee, her mouth to scream—yet neither would obey. Fear pinned her fast, as surely as a deer transfixed beneath the gaze of a tiger, or a wolf.

“Fair lady, what are you dreaming of?” Lü Fengxian snapped his fingers close to her ear. “Heading back to your quarters? Allow me to escort you.”

'Guan-ge… anyone…!'

For a heartbeat, Hu Qingyue felt herself no more than prey awaiting the strike. But as though some deity had planted the thought, a flicker of resolve arose from the deepest trembling of her heart:

'No… you can face him. You have done so before. Let your tongue be your weapon.'

The wife of General Guan fixed him with a sharper gaze, one hand clenched so tight that her nails bit into her palm, and spoke:

“It is no matter. My residence lies close by. I can return on my own.”

The Flying General cocked his head, doubtful.

“Is that so? But it is late—dangerous for a lady.”

“It truly is no matter. A guest such as yourself should not lower himself to trouble over me,” she replied, bowing quickly before striding forward.

Yet her wrist was seized. Her heart jolted, for it brought back the memory of when she had nearly been dragged away by the magistrate’s son on her wedding night fourteen years ago. She strained against the grip, fighting with all the strength she could muster.

Fortune favored her then—for another voice rang out:

“General Lü! What are you doing?!”

'Ah… so I shall be spared the duel of tongues tonight… or shall I?' Hu Qingyue thought, smiling faintly beneath her veil.

The woman who had appeared—whose presence made Lü Bu release his intended prey—was none other than Lady Yan, his principal wife. Judging from her robes, her ornaments, and her bearing, she seemed far more splendid than Lady Hu, though tinged with a quiet arrogance.

“And who are you?” Lady Yan demanded, her gaze raking the other woman from head to toe with open disdain.

Hu Qingyue lowered her eyes, offering only a sliver of truth.

“Merely a physician within this household, madam.”

“Ha! A physician?” Lady Yan sniffed, raising her chin. “So a mere healer dares try to seduce my husband? A base-born wench like you could never even qualify to be anyone’s concubine!”

Hu Qingyue glanced at the pair, her eyes filled with weary pity, before speaking words no one had expected:

“At the very least… this base-born wench would never stoop to become the wife of a lackey among tigers and beasts.”

Lü Fengxian froze, struck dumb. Only Lady Yan sprang forth, shrieking as she lashed out “You vile creature! How dare you insult my husband?!”

“Was I wrong in what I said, madam?”

Lady Yan screamed and raised her hand to strike, but Qingyue slipped aside. In that same instant, she discreetly pressed her palm against Lady Yan’s side, sending her sprawling to the ground. Lü Bu hastened to his wife’s aid, bending down to catch her.

Hu Qingyue did not laugh in triumph. She did not even glance back with scorn. She simply picked up her basket and walked the path that led her back to her husband’s quarters, paying no heed to the torrent of curses hurled after her.

“You peasant slut! Come back here this instant!!!”

Yet for all her courage before the man hailed as the divine warrior of the age, once Hu Qingyue returned to her chambers, she was no more than a frightened kitten.

She bathed, cleansed herself, dressed properly, then slipped into the bedchamber. Throwing herself upon the bed, she drew her knees close and trembled, praying her husband would come soon.

“Ah-Qing… I’m here.”

When Yunchang entered and shut the door behind him, he nearly lost his breath at the sight of his beloved wife curled upon the bed, her gaze fixed upon the emptiness, the darkness—as though her spirit had drifted far, far away.

“Ah-Qing!” He cried out, rushing to her side. At once she flung herself into his arms, weeping, her body shaking more violently still.

“Guan-ge, Lü Bu… Lü Bu, he…”

“What did he do?” The thirty-three-year-old man’s voice remained steady, though within, his fury began to burn. She did not answer. Instead, she guided his hand to her left wrist.

That alone was enough for him to know what had transpired.

He tightened his embrace, rocking her gently, his rough palm stroking her hair with tenderness and devotion.

“It’s all right. All he did was seize your hand, nothing more. He is gone now. And here you have me. You need not fear.”

“Please…” she begged, raising tearful eyes to him, her sobs so raw it seemed her heart might break if he did not grant her plea.

“Erase that mark from me…”

And the instant she pulled him down with her, Yunchang knew what she meant by “erase.”

He gazed at her sorrowful face for a long breath, then sighed. Pressing his forehead against hers, he clasped her small hands tightly in his own—as though making a sacred vow with flesh no less binding than words.

“Yes. I will.”

Thus the night passed, filled only with the sobs of a woman who feared all men in a brutal world—save for the one who held her. The embrace and the love of her husband, who cherished none but her, could not erase every wound. But perhaps, in that moment, it was the one true medicine she could have.

And perhaps… she wished it might be so forever. Even though forever does not exist.

The cold wind stirs, through bamboo leaves it sighs,

O bamboo grove, shield the bloom that lies.

For in a world where men claim might o’er she,

Only you can guard her, steadfastly.

 

Love her, oh love her, when she is frail,

Love her, oh love her, while your hearts prevail.

Love her, oh love her, till life’s last day,

As long as your feet still walk this way.

 

So cherish, dear bamboo, and desert flower rare,

Hold each other close—in love’s own care.

Chapter Text

Official: “Mmm, this Hu Bing (胡餅) I bought tastes quite good, doesn’t it~”

Official’s Wife: “How could you! Share some with me at once!”

Ah! Hu Bing, is it? A thin sheet of baked dough, pressed with intricate patterns and lightly adorned with sesame seeds, fragrant straight from the oven and meltingly soft upon the tongue. But pray tell, good sir, where did you acquire such a treat?

Official: “Why, from the market in Luoyang, of course.”

Luoyang, you say? Then allow me to recount something.

You may already know that Hu Bing is said to have come from lands beyond China—or at least was inspired by them. What is certain, however, is that this sesame-dusted pastry has been enjoyed far longer than most would imagine. Indeed, it is said that Emperor Ling of Han himself was exceedingly fond of it!

And yet, how bitter the irony—that such a humble piece of dough, crisp on the outside and tender within, sprinkled with nothing more than sesame seeds and fit to be eaten at any moment, was once scorned by courtiers of Emperor Ling’s time as an “ominous sign” foreshadowing the dynasty’s collapse.
Their reasoning? Nothing more than that it was food of the Western lands.

So then… what misfortune shall befall the cherished characters of our tale, once they partake of it? That, dear listener, you shall hear soon enough.

It was the third year of the Xingping reign era (A.D. 196). By then, Cao Cao had already amassed considerable influence within the court, for he held under his protection the young Emperor Xian. Perceiving that Liu Bei had taken control of Xuzhou yet had not been granted any official rank, Cao sought to win Liu’s loyalty by drafting a memorial to the throne. In it, he urged His Majesty to appoint Liu Bei as General Who Pacifies the East (鎮東將軍)  and to ennoble him as Marquis of Yicheng (宜城亭侯).

Along with these honors came an imperial command: Liu Bei was to march against Yuan Shu, who was rapidly expanding his power and posed a looming threat to the dynasty. Though Zhang Fei voiced strong objections, Liu Bei would not gainsay the sacred edict.

“Cao Cao must be scheming something,” Zhang Fei protested. “And besides—Lü Bu, camped at Xiapi, may strike at Xuzhou at any moment. Da-ge, you must not go!”

But Liu Bei only shook his head.

“The imperial decree is as Heaven’s mandate. How could I disobey it?”

Nevertheless, he did not abandon Xuzhou to vulnerability. To ensure its defense, he left Zhang Fei stationed at Xiapi, making certain that the province would not be left without a guardian in his absence.

“San-di,” the bearded general spoke on the day he must part ways to follow their elder brother into battle, “aside from our Lord’s wives, I entrust my own wife and children to you.”

The fierce tiger laughed. “Er-ge, you’ve asked the right man! I’ll see to it that guards are stationed, and that servants attend well to Hu-jie and the kids.”

At that moment, Lady Hu stood before the gate with her two sons—Guan Ping, aged fourteen, and Guan Xing, aged three , waiting to send off the man who was both husband and father of the household.
Though her face bore a smile of pride, her heart trembled within.

“My lord, may Heaven grant you victory. Go now.” Lady Hu adjusted his cloak and turban once more, forcing herself to smile and stifling the lonely ache in her chest. She bit back the words Come back quickly, my love, fearing they might distract him from the campaign ahead.

“Father…”

Guan Ping, who was stepping into youth, clasped his father’s hand tightly. “Ah-Ping… Ah-Ping is afraid. But I am a man. A man should not be afraid, should he?”

“Not at all, my son. I, too, feel fear…”

Guan Yunchang stroked his eldest’s head. “Save for enemies, demons, and beasts, the only thing your father fears is that harm should ever befall your mother, you, or your brother.”

Just then, little Ah-Xing, a ruddy-faced boy of three, toddled forward and clutched at his father’s leg. His blank gaze softened into a pleading look.

“Papa… Ah-Xing go too. Ah-Xing wanna go!”

“No, Ah-Xing,” Guan Ping caught his brother. “Wait for Father here. Father is going to fight bad men. He’ll come back soon.”

“No! No! Don’t want! Ah-Xing go with Papa!” Tears rolled down his plump cheeks as he wailed, nearly drawing tears from the three adults as well.

The general knelt, gathering his younger son into his arms, and spoke softly

“My child, save for the stars and moon which your father cannot reach to give you, I promise you this… I shall hurry back to you.”

He pressed a kiss to Ah-Xing’s forehead before handing him into Guan Ping’s arms with the command “Take your mother and brother back inside.”

Guan Ping bowed, then offered his free hand for his mother to hold as he led her away. Ah-Xing, however, could only look back at his father mounting his steed, galloping off into the distance. He cried with all his little strength

“Papa! Come back! Ah-Xing wait Papa!”

The sweeping wind drives hooves that thunder,

O war-steed—where will you bear him yonder?

 

To battlefields ablaze with strife,

Where foes would tear your lord from life?

Or onward to a noble gain,

A victor’s crown, a people’s reign?

 

O endless cloud, O far-flung sky,

Do not wander, do not deny.

 

Remember this, though wars consume:

Within his humble home there blooms

A heart that waits, steadfast and true,

For him to come—return anew.

 

It is said that in this campaign, Guan Yu triumphed over Ji Ling (纪灵), one of Yuan Shu’s foremost generals. Yet alas! Misfortune piled upon misfortune—for at that time, a great famine had struck Xuzhou. The millet and wheat grew too poorly to be harvested in sufficient measure, leaving Liu Bei’s army without proper stores of grain.

But one detail was never recorded in the annals: the small, fragrant treasure he carried with him.

“Ohh, I’m starving… but the rice must be nearly gone by now,” one soldier muttered to another.

“True enough. What can we do? This year the drought ruined us,” his companion replied, scowling.

Their words reached the ears of Yunchang, who happened to be walking past with a deep-purple cloth bundle pressed close to his chest.
Within it lay not documents, nor letters, nor jewels, but rather five or six Hu Bing flatbreads—sesame cakes his beloved wife had given him before his departure.

Had another man hoarded them for himself, he might have eaten well for many days. But General Guan, long since accustomed to hardship, thought little of such things. To share even the smallest morsel with the men under his charge was only natural.

“Hungry, gentlemen?” he asked.

“General!” the soldiers stiffened, startled.

Yunchang did not scold them, nor even smile. He merely untied the cord of the bundle, drew out three cakes, and offered them forward.

“Divide them fairly among yourselves. Even half a cake will keep you filled near half a day.”

Yunchang returned to the tent he shared with Xuande, his elder brother and lord. From his bundle he drew out a single Hu Bing, tore it cleanly in half, and offered one piece forward.

“Da-ge, take this half.”

“No, thank you,” Xuande shook his head. “You eat it. I am not hungry.”

“But you’ve had nothing since late morning,” Yunchang pressed, concern heavy in his voice.

“You’re slighter than I am. Whatever food you took in before, it must already have been burned away in the saddle or on the training ground. I am larger, stronger, and I have gone hungry in my youth. I can endure this. Please.”

Seeing the determination in his younger brother’s eyes, Xuande could not refuse. At last he stretched out his hand and accepted the half-cake, beginning to chew.

“Da-ge, don’t forget—save half of that half,” Yunchang warned. “If you finish it all now, not only will it leave too little for the coming days, but it may sit heavy in your stomach and keep you from rising tomorrow.”

Xuande gave a faint smile and nodded. “Very well. You need not worry.”

After a few bites, the young lord of the Liu clan raised his brows in surprise. “Mm! This is a fine-tasting cake indeed!”

“If I tell Ah-Qing of this, she will be overjoyed,” Yunchang chuckled softly in his throat.

“In that case, when you return… tell Lady Hu to make many more of them,” Xuande replied with a laugh.

“Why so?”

“Because I fear I’ve grown rather fond of them myself!”

The two brothers laughed together within the tent, savoring the delicate sesame flatbread with all the delight of men who had long forgotten such simple comforts.
Yet—ah! They did not know. That gentle flavor, borne from the hands of a woman far away, might well be the last sweetness they would ever taste.

Perhaps cakes from the Western lands were never an omen of doom at all. Perhaps the true ill-omen needed no foreign symbol, but lay waiting in fate itself.

Young Guan Ping wandered back and forth within the family compound ,past the covered corridors, past a small pond, past the little garden ,letting his mind drift as he walked.
Whenever his thoughts strayed to the image of his father riding off to war, he had to steel himself, lest the hollow feeling in his chest grow too heavy.

“Guan Ping, dear,” a woman’s voice called to him.

He turned and saw a lady he recognized—one of his aunts by marriage, whom he had been told to address as Milady or “Lady Aunt,” though in truth she was not much older than he.

“Yes, Great Lady Aunt,” he answered respectfully. “Do you have need of me?”

“Oh heavens, don’t call me that,” Lady Mi (糜夫人) laughed softly, her tone fond. “Just call me Lady Mi. Gan-mei—Lady Gan (甘夫人)—and I are hardly so much older than you. We could almost be your elder sisters, I daresay.”

“Yes, milady.” The youth lowered his head, not daring to meet her gaze—partly because it felt improper, partly because of a shy awkwardness unfamiliar to him.

“Well, it’s nothing serious,” Lady Mi returned to the question he had asked. “Your mother and I went to visit your uncle’s household. We had the most delightful talk!”

At this, Guan Ping allowed a faint smile to rise to his lips, pleased to hear that his mother was finding kindness among new companions. He said nothing, but listened on.

“Auntier knows so many things,” Lady Mi went on with cheerful astonishment, “astrology, physiognomy, the arts—oh, heavens, the list is endless! I only left because I thought I ought to return to keep watch over the master’s quarters. But Gan-mei—ah, she must still be talking even now! Likely she’ll chatter away till the river runs dry!”

As this light conversation between two near-contemporaries of such different stations continued, a harsh shout suddenly rang out from the outer courtyard.

“Cao Bao, you wretch! Where are you going? Come back here and let me beat you to death, you traitor!”

“That… that’s San-shu’s voice!” Guan Ping’s face turned pale as he realized.
“Lady Mi, please return to your quarters at once. I’ll go and see what has happened.” With that, he hurried off, his heart hammering in his chest.

For as long as he could remember, Guan Ping knew his third uncle to be a man fond of wine, sometimes quick-tempered, but never one to strike or harm without cause. Even when Guan Ping, at nine years of age, had clambered into his lap and mischievously yanked out a tuft of his beard, his uncle—though drunk—had not been angry. Instead, he had roared with laughter and pretended to cry out in mock pain.

And now—now he was bellowing death-threats? What on earth had happened?

Guan Ping dashed into the inner courtyard, nearly colliding with a man fleeing in fright—surely, that must have been Cao Bao. Looking the other way, he saw his Third Uncle, Zhang Fei, staggering toward him with heavy, stomping steps, drunk beyond measure.

“You brat! Out of my way! Grown men are settling this with fists!”

“San-shu, you’ve drunk far too much!” Guan Ping hurried forward to steady him, forcing himself to stay calm before the raging tiger. His words came out half-plea, half-reproach: “Oh, Uncle… have you forgotten the promise you made to Da-bo and to my father?”

Zhang Fei turned his face slowly toward the pale youth, eyes wide and blazing with wrath, lips curled to bare clenched teeth.

He growled low “And you too, boy? Were it not that I’ve watched you since you were but waist-high to me… I’d thrash you the same way I’ll thrash that traitor Cao Bao!”

The blood in Guan Ping’s veins ran cold at those words. He let go of his uncle’s sleeve, retreating step by step until he stood still.

“Then… why must you strike him at all?” he asked softly.

“If I hadn’t pressed him why he refused my wine out of regard for his son-in-law, I’d never have learned—his daughter is tied to that cur Lü Bu!”

“And that alone? Uncle, that alone is no cause to beat him!”

The drunken tiger jabbed a finger at him.
“Silence! You’re but a child—don’t dare lecture me! Go! Back to your quarters! Or don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Guan Ping answered no more. He did not follow, did not beg, did not attempt to restrain the raging man further. The poor youth, fourteen years of age and no more, sank into a haze of confusion and despair.

His late grandfather had once told him: even grown men can become unlikeable when they are angry or grief-stricken.

But perhaps… this had already gone far beyond being merely “unlikeable.”

No one knows whether the young man carried the sight and sound of his uncle’s unkindness back into his dreams, to haunt him as nightmares.

No one knows whether he ever spoke of it to anyone at all.

In the records, only contradictions remain: one page claims that Zhang Fei sought to kill Cao Bao, who then fled with his men to join Lü Bu; another page insists that Cao Bao was slain outright from the beginning.

But of one thing there is no doubt—

The ill omen born of rashness, of clouded judgment and a warrior’s reckless heart… was already moving toward Xuzhou.

Chapter Text

太阳 太阳，


给 我们 带来 七 色 光彩。
照得 我们 心灵 的 花朵 美丽 可爱。

今天 我们 成长 在 阳光 下，


O sun, O sun
Bring us the brilliance of seven colors.
You are the blossoms blooming within our hearts.
From this day forth, let us grow beneath your light.

The lullaby lingered, mingling with the soft smacking sounds from a child’s tiny mouth. Tonight stretched on endlessly, heavy with silence, as though the sun itself had abandoned the sky. Even the moonlight seemed pale and sorrowful.

Though her heart ached with longing whenever her eyes fell upon her son, Hu Qingyue tried her utmost not to drown in grief—for she feared her milk, distilled from her body, would sour if she did. All she could manage was a faint smile for little Xing’er, her red-cheeked three-year-old.

She thought this night would pass like so many before: with her child asleep, mouth still latched onto her breast.
Yet… it did not.

“What’s happening?!”

“Mi-jie! I’m scared!”

“The enemy has taken the city! Lord Zhang is gone—what do we do?!”

“We’re all doomed! We’re going to die!”

The wife of General Guan pushed herself upright, causing her red-faced boy to unlatch reluctantly from her breast.

“Mama… Mama! Milk! Want milk!” Xing’er whined.

“Just a moment, my son. Wait a little,” Hu Qingyue soothed, drawing her robe closed over her chest. She laid him back upon the bed, covered him with another blanket, smoothed her hair into order, then gathered him in her arms once more as she stepped swiftly toward the door to see what awaited outside.

“Auntie! Auntie!”

Lady Hu turned to see her two younger sisters-in-law—Lady Mi and Lady Gan ,running toward her in a panic, breathless and disheveled.

“What has happened…?” she asked in an even voice, though the flickering orange glow rising from beyond the city walls of Xiapi Mansion told her enough already.

“I heard that enemy forces—someone, I don’t even know who—have broken into the city!” Lady Mi wailed, collapsing at Lady Hu’s feet and clutching at her legs.

Lady Gan seized her hand and shook it desperately. “San-shu was drunk and passed out before it all began—he didn’t even prepare for battle! Now he’s fled, we don’t know where… What are we to do?! Are we going to die?!”

“Stop!”

The single sharp command of the “second wife” of the household froze them both at once. Not only the two elder sisters-in-law, but even the little boy in her arms, Xing’er, ceased his whimpering.

“Will your tears bring back General Zhang? Will they summon your husband, Lord Liu, or mine—who is caught up in the campaign against Yuan Shu any sooner? Tell me, will they? This is no time to weep!”

“But Auntie… we are only women!” Lady Mi sobbed. “If we face the invaders, we will surely lose!”

Lady Gan buried her face against her sleeve. “Or worse… they might defile us! There is no way we can win!”

Lady Hu drew in a long breath. Her gaze fixed upon the world beyond the walls, where flames leapt higher and the cacophony of chaos reigned.

The clash of steel upon steel.

The screams of the helpless.

The howls of the marauders.

No longer did fear take root in her heart. In this moment, the Lioness of the Peach Blossom Grove rose within her. She would be the steadfast pillar for the children and women of this trembling world.

“Mother! Lady Mi! Lady Gan!”

The three women turned sharply to see Guan Ping running toward them. Dropping to his knees, he reported breathlessly, “I know who has seized Xuzhou!”

“Who…?” his mother asked, her bearing like that of a general though her hands held no weapon.

“Lü Bu, Mother!”

Lady Hu looked at her eldest son only for a heartbeat before thrusting his younger brother into his arms. “Take your brother back at once. If it is not me or your Ah-Mu who comes, you are not to leave your chamber under any circumstances.”

When her sons had vanished from sight, she turned back to her two sisters-in-law. Drawing Lady Mi and Lady Gan to their feet, she clasped their hands firmly.

“Go and put yourselves in proper order. If he calls us forth to speak, we will go. Do not forget—within these halls remain Lord Mi and Lord Chen's men. We women are not left defenseless in this household.”

In time, everyone within the governor’s mansion was herded together into the courtyard. The eyes of the gathered crowd darted nervously; some fainted outright, unable to bear the dread. Others wept and trembled like beasts awaiting slaughter. Still others clung to one another, subdued, as though resigned to whatever fate might come.

Only Lady Hu, twenty-nine years of age, and her eldest son, Guan Ping ,barely past fourteen—stood side by side without flinching.

They neither lamented nor pleaded with the gods, and not a single tear fell, as though fear itself had never taken root in them.

“Mama… Ping’ge… Xing… Xing is scare…” The little boy buried his face into his elder brother’s chest, soaking his tunic with tears. Guan Ping could only stroke his brother’s head without answering, while their mother kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, her expression unreadable.

Lady Hu knew well the reputation of this licentious general surnamed Lü. His wife was Lady Yan, but he also kept Cao Bao’s daughter—and countless lesser concubines besides. True, her husband had once told her:

“By the customs of war, when a general triumphs and slays the enemy leader, he must treat the fallen leader’s wives and children with honor. They must not be harmed.”

Yet in her heart, she would have answered him thus:

'And how can you be so sure, my husband? Who in this world could ever be as steadfast and merciful as you? The human heart is far more twisted than you believe.'

'And this treating them well...does it also mean taking the dead man’s widow as your own wife?'

For this reason, she veiled herself, cloth drawn from beneath her eyes to her chin. She knew too well that beauty could summon calamity, and she had no wish for any to behold her face as her husband and closest kin had once done.

The sound of hoofbeats and the neighing close at hand… Lady Hu could guess well enough that it must be the famed steed, Red Hare. She had heard tales of its blood-sweating breed back when she herself was but a girl.

It was said that these Heavenly Horses (大宛馬) hailed from the land of Dayuan, where lush, endless pastures allowed them to graze in abundance. Such steeds were renowned for their sleek coats, their strange velvet-like sheen, and their unmatched swiftness—coveted in many realms.

Even her late father had once told her that, in ages past, wars had broken out between the Han and the Sai peoples [1] for no other reason than the right to trade in these heavenly-blooded horses.
And was it any different now, with this general surnamed Lü who slew his very first adoptive father, Ding Yuan, for the sake of a single fine horse?

When Lü Bu dismounted from his steed, he strode to the center of the courtyard and proclaimed aloud:

“I did not come to Xuzhou to seize this city for myself. But because General Zhang was lax in his governance, I was compelled to take matters into my own hands. Fear not! Lord Liu is my sworn brother. His wives, his children, his household—none shall come to harm!”

Chen Deng, standing not far from where the family of General Guan clustered, cast him a sidelong glance and muttered darkly, “Hmph… let us hope those words hold true.”

“Lord Chen, stay your temper,” Lady Hu interjected, firm but calm.

Mi Zhu sighed deeply, recalling how he had once pleaded with Liu Bei not to shelter Lü Bu in Xuzhou. “I warned him long ago… alas.”

“The past is gone, Lord Mi,” Lady Hu replied. “What matters now is that we guard ourselves well.”

Lü Bu’s hawk-like gaze swept over the crowd, searching, lingering—like a predator measuring which prey to strike. He paused first upon Lady Mi and Lady Gan at the center. These are Liu Bei’s wives, he thought. To meddle with them would only invite trouble. He looked past them without interest.

The two women exchanged a glance and released a shared sigh, as though whispering to one another: 'We’ve escaped—for now.'

Then Lü Bu’s eyes alighted on the veiled woman and the youth at her side, cradling a plump infant.

'It seems he does not remember me,'

Lady Hu thought. No one could see the faint smile beneath her veil, but the lamplight caught the glimmer of cunning in her eyes.

'Heaven has shown me mercy.'

To Lü Bu, though, there was no denying the woman’s round, luminous eyes were striking, alluring even. Yet deep within, he felt there was some hidden secret in them—something better left untouched.

“And you must be…?”

“Lady Hu, wife of General Guan,” she replied evenly.

“Ah… I see.” Lü Bu gave a small laugh, as though to mask the faint unease that had crept into his chest.

For a brief instant, the man who once slew a tyrant for the sake of beauty turned back to study her, as if to capture every detail of her face. But whatever desire had first flickered in his gaze soon vanished, replaced by an emptiness devoid of longing.

'So, he thinks me ugly, does he?' Lady Hu thought, seeing straight through him. 'All the better. As long as I am beautiful in Guan-ge's eyes, that is more than enough.'

And so the general surnamed Lü passed by them, never sparing another glance at the veiled woman of the Hu clan.

Yet Lady Hu knew, deep within her heart—this matter was far from over.

“What did you say?!” the eldest of the group bellowed, his shout competing with the rain hammering outside the tents. “Lü Bu has taken Xuzhou! How is that possible?!”

Zhang Yide could do nothing but bow his head and sob, his body shaking with each hiccup—he knew exactly what had brought about this ruin.

“I… I thought to bid farewell first,” he stammered, voice trembling like a child fearing a scolding. “Let the nobles and soldiers eat and drink their fill; from now on I would not touch wine again. When I reached Cao Bao…”

He faltered. “He would not drink. At first he spoke of heaven and earth, then he said to spare his son-in-law… and when I asked, I found out his son-in-law was Lü Bu… so I—”

“So?” Guan Yunchang asked slowly.

“So I struck him to ease my anger. He’ll surely tell Lü Bu about this! Brothers… punish me, please!” With that, the general of the Zhang household bent over and wept even harder.

Liu Xuande and Guan Yunchang could only shake their heads. Part of them burned with anger at Zhang Yide’s carelessness ,his drinking and sudden brutal punishments of those under his command—but another part recoiled at making him suffer more.

At length Liu Xuande let slip, “And… my wife, and the others?”

“They’re… still trapped in Xiapi…”

“What?!”

Though the heavens roared and the world seemed to shake, the rain kept hammering the earth—matching, beat for beat, the thudding of someone’s heart that felt as if it might break in an instant.

“I’m sorry… I was a fool! I—”

Before the dark-faced youth could finish, the elder second brother seized the collar with a heavy hand and yanked Zhang Hui to his feet. When Zhang Hui looked up, he nearly fainted from shock.

Guan Yunchang—his second brother...was furious in a way he had never been before.

“You damned fool!!!” Yunchang roared, his voice louder than it had ever been. “What’s the matter with you?! Going cold turkey from wine and you think you’re going to die from it?!”

After that shout he shook Zhang Fei so violently the younger man looked as if he might vomit up every last scrap of food. Liu Xuande, the eldest, hurried to restrain him. “Er-di! Calm down! Calm down! Don’t be brutal!”

“You know there are more than just your own wives!” the Guan clan’s general thundered back, making the eldest start. The man who’d been seized sobbed, eyes wide with fear at the other’s anger.

“My wives—my two children—are there too! How can I not be furious?!”

For an instant, Guan Yu felt the old murderous urge flare—he wanted to kill that bloody wretch right then and there. But remembering the oath they swore as sworn brothers and the hardships the three of them had shared, he could not bring himself to act on it.

'He is no longer a boy. But when Ah-Qing is stubborn, I do not scold her harshly—how, then, could I be cruel to him? ' he thought.

“Er-ge…” the little tiger —who had been all mischief and was now only a tear-streaked child ,sobbed, face smeared with rain and salt. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

Thud…

Zhang Fei’s body crumpled to the ground, the sound dull against the heavy silence that pressed upon the tent. Outside, the storm raged on, rain pelting down in an endless torrent.

The general of the Zhang clan felt his consciousness slipping away bit by bit, crushed beneath the weight of guilt so suffocating it left no room for forgiveness of himself.

“AAAHHHHHHH!!!” he howled, drawing his sword from its sheath, intent on slashing his throat and ending his shame right then and there.

While the eldest, Liu Bei, lunged forward to seize his hand and stop him, Guan Yu only set one hand on his hip and turned his gaze aside. It was not that he did not love his younger brother—only that perhaps, in this moment, his role was no longer his to play.

“San-di! Don’t do this! Please—don’t!”

“Let me go, Da-ge! I am so ashamed!”

“Stop it now! Stop, I said!!!”

Slap!

The second brother’s head whipped back at the sound. What he saw was Zhang Fei’s tear-streaked face, stung and turned aside from the blow that Liu Bei had just delivered.

Xuande’s eyes were wet with tears; the hand that had struck still trembled, while the other had already torn sword and sheath from Zhang Fei’s grasp and flung them to the ground.

The suffocating weight of the moment lingered for what felt like forever, until slowly, Xuande’s fury ebbed. He placed his hand ever so gently upon his youngest brother’s cheek.

“My brother… why must you be so witless?”

In that moment, there was no General Zhang.

There was only Ah-Fei, the boy who had lost his family at thirteen—flung by fate into the arms of sworn brothers and a vast world, dazzling and cruel, ready to crush him if he faltered.

Was the rain outside as loud as his sobs?

Would the little birds, and the lioness in the peach blossom grove, forgive him?

“I’m sorry… Brothers, don’t hate me.”

“Cry as much as you need, you little rascal of ours.”

“When you’re done crying… then we’ll think together of what to do next.”

But never mind… never mind the future, for now.

So long as his two elder brothers did not let go, so long as they stayed beside him, holding him tight...

That alone was enough.

Fact

The “blood-sweating horse,” also known as the Heavenly Horse or the Ferghana Horse, was a real breed that once existed in Central Asia and China. It is believed to have originated in the oasis-rich Ferghana Valley, in the region known in Han times as Dayuan.

These horses were renowned for their tall, powerful, and enduring frames, with sleek coats said to shine like velvet. Their most remarkable traits were their unmatched swiftness and the curious phenomenon of “sweating blood” which some modern scholars suspect was caused by a parasitic infection.

So prized were these steeds that Emperor Wu of Han declared war on the Saka/Sogdian peoples of Dayuan around 104–102 BCE, fighting to secure them. The Han emerged victorious, and in the aftermath the Silk Road itself began to flourish.

Today, scholars and biologists agree that the Heavenly Horse has long been extinct. The last traces appear in Tang-era glazed ceramics and paintings. Some have speculated that the Akhal-Teke breed might be a descendant or at least a distant relative—of these legendary mounts, though no conclusive evidence has yet been found.

Footnote

[1] Sai, meaning the Saka or Scythians

Chapter Text

The Wandering Warrior: “Damn it! They’d barely been together as a family for a few years! And what about little Xing’er—he was only three when Xuzhou was taken!”

The Dancer: “Aaaaghhh! This pain is too much to bear!”

The Lady from Dayuan: “If I had been there, I would’ve slapped Lü Bu first—then that wretched Lady Yan! After that, I’d have whisked Ah-Qing and the children straight to Guan-ge myself!”

Calm yourselves, my friends—our hero and heroine have not yet reached the depth of their misfortune.

Everyone: “They’d better not have!!!”

The chronicles and old poems record only this: Lü Bu seized Xuzhou while Zhang Fei was drunk and asleep, taking the wives and attendants of Liu Bei as hostages.

At that time, Liu Bei and Guan Yu were entangled in battle with Yuan Shu and had no choice but to retreat. Lü Bu then forced Liu Bei and his followers to relocate to Xiaopei, while Liu Bei, powerless against the superior forces, could do nothing but submit.

But what of those who were left behind—those who did not march to war?

Come closer, for the black cat promises you this: the tale you are about to hear… is one that will stir your very soul.

Ever since Lü Bu seized control of Xuzhou, he did not come to reside in the governor’s mansion alone.

He brought along his principal wife, Lady Yan; four or five concubines; the young daughter born of Lady Yan; and a retinue of attendants. Among them was one man of particular note—Chen Gong, one of Lü Bu’s most trusted advisors.

Those familiar with the chronicles would recall this name well. It was said that Chen Gong once crossed paths with Cao Cao, even aiding him in his flight from Dong Zhuo’s pursuit. Yet other accounts claim that the two parted ways after Chen Gong witnessed Cao Cao slaughter the entire household of Lü Boshe out of misunderstanding—and felt disgusted that Cao Cao showed not a trace of remorse.

Whatever the truth may be, I know this much: Chen Gong did serve under Cao Cao during the fourth year of the Zhuping era (A.D. 193), before parting from him the following year—and ultimately pledging allegiance to Lü Bu.

Now then, having spoken enough of the invaders who forced their way into Xuzhou, let us at last turn to the heart of our tale.

“You move so slowly! What a useless boy you are!” Lady Yan snapped at Guan Ping, who was carefully bringing a tea tray to serve her and her daughter, Lü Lingqi (吕玲绮).

The young Guan did not talk back. He simply kept walking until he reached them, then placed the teacups upon the table and began to pour.

“Ah!”

No one knew whether it was an accident or someone’s mischief, but Guan Ping stumbled—the tray clattered, the teapot barely saved from shattering. Yet his pale hand, in the scramble to steady himself, caught the collar of Lingqi’s robe—almost pulling it down her shoulder.

“Mother! That slave boy tried to touch me!”

“I did not!”

Guan Ping protested the moment he scrambled up from the floor. “I only tripped—my hand brushed her collar by mistake! I swear I meant no harm!”

“Silence, you wretched slave child!” Lady Yan’s voice rang sharp as steel. One arm went protectively around her daughter.

“So, you thought to take liberties with my girl, did you? Vile brat! Or perhaps—” she sneered, “you imagine that by marrying into my family, you and your mother would cease to be prisoners?”

Guan Ping’s hands clenched so tightly his knuckles trembled. The gentle light in his eyes hardened, turning sharp as tempered iron as he met her glare.

“What are you staring at?!” she spat.

“Who told you,that we are your captives?”

Everyone turned sharply toward the sound.

It was Lady Hu herself, gliding into the garden pavilion.

At once, Guan Ping moved to his mother’s side. In a place unseen by others, their hands found each other ,fingers quietly entwining in silent defiance, as if to say, “We still have each other.”

Lady Yan lifted her chin. “Anyone who lives under the conqueror’s power is a captive, plain and simple!”

“Is that so?”
Lady Hu’s lips curved faintly beneath her veil—a smile tinged with scorn. “And yet, as far as I know, Lord Liu Bei—my husband’s master never even crossed blades with Lord Lü. Tell me then… by what right should we be called captives?”

At that, the wife and daughter of the so-called conqueror froze, their mouths half open in disbelief.

Meanwhile, the she-wolf and her fourteen-year-old son stood firm, their gazes calm—unyielding, and cold as still water beneath ice.

Lady Yan managed a sneer, masking her irritation with mockery.

“I heard,” she said, curling her painted lips, “that you are not of pure Han blood. Is that true?”

“If it is,” Lady Hu replied, one brow arching, “what trouble does it cause you, my lady?”

Her voice carried neither pain nor anger—only a cool steadiness that made it hard to tell whether she had long grown numb to such scorn, or was merely testing her opponent.

“Hmph! A mixed-blood woman like you is nothing but a flower meant for decoration!” Lady Yan hissed. “Perhaps that bearded husband of yours...has already found himself a prettier, younger, more obedient wife on the road!”

Guan Ping clenched his jaw till it ached. His hand gripped his mother’s without realizing it.
Were it not for the lessons of restraint she and his father had drilled into him—to honor women of rank and seniority—he might have dragged the insolent woman to the ground by her hair. Only his mother’s quiet squeeze upon his fingers kept him from losing control.

Lady Hu turned her gaze upon Lady Yan once more, eyes gleaming with quiet peril. Her next words struck like a knife wrapped in silk:

“Is that so, my lady? Yet as I recall… Lord Lü Bu has more than one wife himself, does he not?”

“You! You dare—!” Lady Yan’s voice cracked with fury as she raised her hand to slap the other woman—but froze, remembering her daughter was still nearby.

She instead cast a sharp glance at the girl. Lü Lingqi bowed quickly and slipped away, leaving only three figures in the garden—mother, son, and the humiliated mistress of Xuzhou—while the air between them simmered like the eve of war.

“All women belonging to their husbands are ornaments of the household, are they not?” Lady Hu sighed softly before adding,

“But a flower’s worth isn’t measured by its color and fragrance alone, my lady.”

The words of her late father, Hu Bin, echoed in her mind once more ,his teaching about the hidden value within all things.

Even flowers without striking hues or pleasing scents might conceal virtues of their own—essences that could be drawn into medicines or blended into food to heal and sustain life.

And so, what was she to be?

A foreign bloom left idle in yellow earth?

A flower prized only for its rare color and fragrance?

Or one whose every part : color, scent, and virtue—would serve her husband’s kin and cause?

Fragrance and color—those are beauty and charm, the arts that ensnare men’s hearts.

Then the virtue—the true essence—must be wisdom itself, that sacred gift bestowed upon women since the dawn of humankind, though so few ever dare to acknowledge it… or to draw it forth.

She smiled faintly beneath her veil, eyes gleaming like polished jade.

“And you, my lady…” she murmured, voice silken yet cutting,

“You must be the kind of flower whose only gift is fragrance—sweet upon the air, but fleeting, bringing pleasure and nothing more… isn’t that so?”

Lady Hu narrowed her eyes, then spoke calmly to her son.

“Come now, Ping’er. Your little brother must be waiting by now. Let’s go home.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mother and son turned to leave, believing the confrontation had ended there—but Lady Yan’s temper flared hotter than sense.

“I want to see what kind of face you’re hiding beneath that veil, you shameless woman!” she hissed, and before anyone could stop her, she lunged forward—snatching the silk covering from Lady Hu’s face so violently that the other woman staggered back a step.

“Don’t touch my mother!” Guan Ping shouted, rushing between them, eyes wide with terror and fury—not for his own dignity, but for hers.

For a heartbeat, the garden fell silent.

In Lady Yan’s gaze appeared the face she had hated without ever truly knowing—a fair, luminous face that seemed carved from snow and moonlight, marred only by four tiny dark dots beneath the eyes, marks of beauty that no Han woman could ever quite comprehend.

And despite herself, Lady Yan’s breath caught.

'It’s true… she’s beautiful. So beautiful it makes me jealous.'

Lady Hu regarded her in silence for a long while—no smile, no word. Then she turned away, took her son’s hand, and walked off with quiet grace, leaving the other woman standing amid the weight of her own envy.

Not once did she look back.

As dusk deepened toward night, the household gathered in the main sitting room of General Guan Yu’s residence.

It was a rare sight indeed—his wife seated at the center of the hall, while all the men present showed her the same deference they would a commander.

Lady Hu spoke first, her voice calm but commanding.

“What news have we?”

Chen Deng was the first to answer.

“Our scouts report that Lord Liu Bei’s army will return to Xuzhou within three days, my lady.”

Next came Mi Zhu, his tone grave.

“I have received a letter from our lord, asking what course we should take under these circumstances.”

Sun Qian (孫乾) promptly offered, “We should move our troops and part of the civilians to Xiaopei for now, then devise a new strategy once we’re secured.”

“No!” Mi Fang (麋芳), younger brother to Mi Zhu and Lady Mi, objected hotly.

“Lord Tao Qian entrusted Xuzhou to our lord rightfully—how can we allow Lü Bu to seize it so easily?!”

“We have only five thousand men,” Mi Zhu cautioned, “we cannot hope to match his forces in open battle.”

The debate raged on, voices rising and falling, plans clashing like swords unsheathed. And through it all, the lone woman in the room said nothing.

Lady Hu merely watched, her expression unreadable, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Mama…” murmured Guan Ping, cradling his little brother Xing’er, who was barely three. He looked up at her, silently pleading for her to speak.

But his mother only gave a faint smile—one that seemed to say "Not yet, my son… the time is not right."

The argument dragged on until the air grew thick with frustration and then, with a single calm breath, Lady Hu broke the chaos.

“I am but a woman,” she began softly, “unversed in the ways of state or war… Yet if it were up to me, I would not insist on fighting a tiger alone.”

Silence fell at once. Every man in the room turned toward her, eyes filled with a mix of surprise, curiosity, and newfound respect.

“At this moment, we are weak,” she continued, voice steady but not unkind. “Our stores are thin after the recent drought, and the locusts have ravaged what fields remained. As Master Sun Qian has said—our lord commands but five thousand men. Against Lü Bu’s might, we cannot possibly prevail.”

The Mi brothers exchanged thoughtful nods; Sun Qian and Chen Deng both smiled faintly in agreement.

Around the room, low murmurs of approval began to rise.

“Unbelievable… a woman, yet so astute.”

“The general is truly blessed to have such a wife.”

“Strong as any man—no, fiercer, and wiser. Remarkable indeed.”

“Milady! Milady!” cried Ah-Mu, the nursemaid of the Guan children, as she rushed into the sitting hall. She fell to her knees beside Lady Hu and whispered something—something that made the lady’s pupils tighten and her fingers tremble ever so slightly.

Lady Hu waved for Ah-Mu to withdraw for a moment, then turned to the assembled men. “That will be all for tonight. Return to your quarters,” she said evenly.
None dared question her. When the last of them had gone, only she, Ah-Mu, Guan Ping, and little Guan Xing (Ah-Xing) remained.

“What is it, Ah-Mu?” Guan Ping asked, having noticed the sudden shift in his mother’s composure more keenly than anyone.

The nursemaid darted her eyes nervously about, as though afraid that the walls themselves might have ears.

“Please, young master… don’t be angry when you hear this,” she whispered. “I saw Lady Yan… whispering—urging…”

“Urging her husband to come after me, isn’t it?”

Lady Hu finished for her, her tone so calm that both Ah-Mu and her sons froze. Guan Ping’s heart seemed to drop out of his chest, while Ah-Mu covered her face and began to sob in fear that her mistress might soon fall victim to such malice.

“Ah-Mu,” Guan Ping hissed, tightening his hold on his little brother while gripping his mother’s shoulder with the other hand, as though to anchor her. “That vile serpent—what exactly did she say to Lü Bu?”

Still weeping, Ah-Mu managed to recount everything.

“She said your lady mother is beautiful as a celestial fairy… that General Guan loves her so deeply he’d go mad without her. If Lü Bu truly wishes to destroy your father and Lord Liu Bei… then he should claim your lady mother as his concubine first!”

Rage flared hot in Guan Ping’s chest; for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to storm out and cut down both invaders where they stood. But when his gaze fell upon his mother and his frightened little brother, the fury burning within him dimmed into a heavy, suffocating ache.

Lady Hu turned toward the bronze mirror beside her. The lamp’s soft flame cast their reflections together—her own serene face beside her son’s youthful one and in that instant, a thought as sharp as a blade came to her.

A plan—subtle, dangerous, and perhaps heaven-sent.

The following night, laughter and song drifted through the warm summer wind—soft and sweet, like the echo of a dream.

From within General Guan’s residence, one room still glowed with the gentle light of a lamp.

“Again, my lady! Throw the young master higher!”

“Ha! Ha! Higher, Mama! Higher~!” the little boy squealed in delight, his giggles bubbling through the still air.

But those inside that room ,those basking in that tender moment of peace— knew not that danger was already drawing near.

It crept toward them slowly, silently,

in the form of a beast wearing a man’s skin—

the infamous warrior the world would come to call

the Flying General.

The door to the bedchamber stood open—as though inviting the trespasser to enter without restraint.

Lü Bu stared for a moment, but did not smile.He strode inside as if the place already belonged to him.

No word of permission sought,

No thought spared for the sanctity of the room he violated.

He carried the bearing of a tiger— yet the stealth of a fox.

And in that dissonance lay something chilling,

something that made the night itself seem to hold its breath.

The shadow behind the bamboo curtain slowly ceased to move.Laughter and lullaby faded into silence, and with it, the air in the room shifted—heavy, cold, oppressive like the stillness before an execution.

The lamplight dimmed, shrinking to a wavering ember, trembling as if unsure whether it would live or die.

The great hand of the warrior surnamed Lü reached forward and parted the bamboo curtain.

His eyes searched the gloom, fixing upon a solitary figure sitting on the bed, back turned toward him.

How strange…Neither the lady of the house, nor her maid, nor even the little young master made a sound.

Not a word.

Not a breath of protest.

Only the silence remained—thick as smoke, and far more dangerous.

“Lady Hu, I—HEY!!!”

The voice broke off in a startled yell.

For the figure on the bed was not Lady Hu at all—but a boy of fourteen, dressed in women’s robes. The resemblance to his mother was uncanny: the same poise, the same luminous pallor—only lacking the four beauty marks beneath the eyes.

“You filthy beast! You dared come here to defile my mother?!”

The shout was sharp as steel, and the dagger in Guan Ping’s hand gleamed with the same fury. His voice, just beginning to break into manhood, rang clear and cutting, and in that moment he looked every inch his father’s son.

Lü Bu froze. His mind blanked—no weapon on him, no plan. To strike the boy would be to brand himself a bully of children; yet to retreat was humiliation. Whichever way he turned, danger waited.

“Get out!”
Guan Ping barked again. “If you don’t value your own life, then at least think of my little brother’s! He’s far too young to watch his brother spill blood tonight!”

Silence.

Only the faint cooing of the three-year-old Ah-Xing, peeking wide-eyed from behind a chair—and the barely stifled giggle of Ah-Mu, trembling behind her sleeve.

“Take Xuzhou, General Lü,” the boy said at last, his tone lowering, his hand still steady though his voice quivered with held emotion. “Rule it however you wish. But please… leave us be.”

The warrior said nothing. He merely stared at the pale-faced youth before him—a child more than thirty years his junior—until the boy spoke once more, his words slicing straight through armor and pride alike:

“If your daughter were treated the way you meant to treat my mother… would you not regret it?”

No one ever knew what happened after that.

No one knew what words—if any—passed between Lü Bu and the boy.
But this much, I am certain of: From that night onward, Lü Bu never again laid a hand upon anyone within that household.

What he did not know, however…was that the lady of that house—the wolf-born mistress with the calm eyes and the mind sharp as winter steel was already weaving her next move in silence.

A plan that would soon lead the she-wolf home again ,into the waiting arms of her bearded general.

Chapter Text

“Huff… this rug sure weighs a ton, young master,” someone grumbled though the smile tugging at his lips was rather suspicious.

The fair-faced youth beside him returned a faint smile and urged quietly, “Hurry up. If we delay, it may cost us dearly.”

Guan Ping paused mid-step, watching as servants and attendants carried furniture and belongings out of his family’s residence, one piece after another. A pang of melancholy welled up in his chest.

Moving from place to place was nothing new to him — the son of a military officer must follow his father wherever duty called, especially when that father served Lord Liu. He understood that. He accepted it.

And yet, every so often, he dreamed of the day when he, his father, mother, and little brother might finally have a home of their own , a place where roots could grow deep and lives could rest easy.

Alas… such peace belonged to a distant future, far beyond this turbulent age of Han.

The truth was a bitter one: what we desire is not always what Heaven grants, and sometimes, not once in an entire lifetime do we get what our hearts truly wish for.

Moreover, this move was not a mere relocation to Xiaopei , it was an evacuation, swift and silent. For they all knew well that, at this very moment, Lü Bu held the reins of Xuzhou, and Liu Bei’s men had yet to arrive.

“Young master…”

He turned to see Ah-Mu, the old nursemaid, her arms full with his little brother, Ah-Xing.

Her eyes, dulled with age, still shone with affection and worry. “We must go now. Someone is waiting for us behind the manor.”

“Yes, Ah-Mu. All right then… hand him to me.”

With that, Guan Ping took the small child into his arms, and the three of them hastened away without once looking back — leaving behind the house that had been their home, and with it, every fragment of the past that could no longer return.

The Three Brothers of the Peach Garden still did not sleep that night.

One was weaving straw into a hat, another sat in silence staring blankly into the fire, and the last one tossed pebbles into the air like a bored child.

“Missing your wife and children, Er-di?” Liu Xuande asked as he twisted another strand of straw.

Guan Yunchang answered without hesitation. “Almost to death.”

“Hah! More like missing your wife than the kids, I’d say!” Zhang Yide teased, flashing a mischievous grin only to yelp when his brother raised a hand to swat him.

“Ahhh! I’m sorry! Geez, Er-ge, ease up with that possessive streak of yours!”

“My wife is beautiful! That’s why I’m worried about her!” the bearded warrior barked, cheeks flaring red whether from anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.

“Besides, the city’s been taken by Lü Bu! How could I not worry?!”

Xuande sighed, setting the half-woven hat aside and raising his hand to stop them.

“All right, enough. No fighting. You’re not children anymore.”

Just then, footsteps approached from outside. Someone pushed aside the tent flap, and the three men turned sharply toward the entrance.

“Chen Deng!” they exclaimed in unison.

“Lords, I have successfully escorted both of your ladies and everyone else out of Xiapi,” Chen Deng said, smiling even as he carried a rolled-up carpet under one arm. “We managed to bring out the household goods and valuables as well. If it pleases you, Xiaopei can serve as our temporary refuge.”

Liu Xuande nodded gravely. “Very well. There’s no better choice for now. When I meet Lü Bu, I shall inform him myself.”

While the two men spoke of matters of state, the third of the brothers , that mischievous tiger, was staring at the carpet with gleaming eyes.

“Wow… that carpet looks quite fine,” Zhang Fei murmured, rubbing his chin.

Guan Yu shot him a side-eye and asked dryly, “What? Thinking of hanging it up in your house?”

“Nope. Planning to sell it.”

“Greedy bastard.”

“C’mon! Can’t you take a joke?!”

Chen Deng set the carpet down gently and at once, it began to unroll by itself, as though alive.

“Wha—?!”

The three brothers jumped, stepping instinctively closer together. Their shock slowly turned to disbelief as the “mystery” inside revealed itself.

From within the carpet, a woman—radiant, poised, and utterly unbothered by the absurdity of her entrance , propped herself up and stretched her limbs with a languid groan. Then she opened her eyes, calmly sweeping her gaze around the tentful of stunned men.

“Oh dear… my apologies, gentlemen.”

Lady Hu bowed gracefully, hiding the sly curl of her smile behind a lifted sleeve.

“Hu-mei…?” Liu Xuande blurted out, frozen stiff as ice.

“Ah-Qing… don’t toy with my heart like this,” murmured Guan Yunchang, his voice tight, every muscle in his body locking up from a surge of emotion he tried in vain to suppress.

“Chen Deng! Why didn’t you escort my Hu-jie properly instead of smuggling her in a rug?!” Zhang Yide bellowed, indignant on his brother’s behalf.

“Well… I did want to bring Lady Hu in properly,” Chen Deng replied, laughing awkwardly. “But she insisted on keeping a low profile and, well… she said she wanted to startle a certain lord for fun.”

At that, Yunchang swallowed hard. He knew too well…

She had succeeded.

After the laughter and chaos subsided, everyone settled down to hear Lady Hu’s firsthand account of what had transpired in Xiapi and Xuzhou: how she had noticed subtle frictions between Lü Bu and Chen Gong, how certain political maneuvers felt “peculiar” though she claimed not to fully grasp them.

Her tale ended with a conclusion that matched what they had all begun to suspect, they must move their base to Xiaopei.

After a long discussion on matters of war and governance, Chen Deng finally excused himself to tend to other affairs — leaving only four men and one woman inside the tent.

“I’ll take Ah-Qing to sit by the fire for a while,” said General Guan, rising to his feet and gently taking his wife’s hand. “San-di, look after our lord, will you?”

He was just about to lead her out when Liu Xuande interjected.

“On second thought, I’ll step out for some air myself.” With that, he slipped out of the tent first.

“Wait for me, Da-ge!” Zhang Yide shouted, hurrying after him like an overeager hound.

And so, only two remained.

The husband and wife were left alone in the tent — no third, no fourth, no fifth person in sight.

Outside, the night was alive with the faint crackling of burning firewood and the shuffling sounds of soldiers moving about the camp, laughter echoing faintly from afar.

Yunchang glanced once more at the woman before him.

His heart’s most precious jewel, radiant and unblemished even amid the deepest night. The faint light of the torch flickered across her face, glinting upon the tears that traced her pale cheeks and casting a soft golden shimmer in those brown eyes that had seen too much sorrow.

“Guan-ge… I missed you,” she whispered.

Ah-Qing embraced him first, her arms wrapping around him so tightly it was as though she feared he might slip away again.

And how could he not understand? She had lost him once— lost him to blood and duty, to the price he had paid when he chose to kill people in order to protect her and their eldest son.

That farewell had lasted far, far too long.

“I’m here now, Ah-Qing.”

The bearded warrior drew her close, gentle as if cradling something fragile and irreplaceable. His hand caressed her silken hair, slow and loving, though his voice trembled with worry.

“And… Ah-Ping and Xing’er?”

“Don’t fret,” she replied softly. “I’ve left them in the care of the nursemaids.”

“Good.” He exhaled, relief easing the tension from his shoulders. “So long as our children are safe… I’ve nothing else left to fear.”

They held each other for a long while, as though time itself had folded away just for them.

Then, in a voice barely louder than the crackle of the campfire, Ah-Qing murmured,

“Do you know… I missed you so much I lost count of how many times I had to clutch my own chest just to keep breathing. I kept thinking ,if only you were here beside me, guarding me like before…”

“Oh?” Yunchang let out a low chuckle, that deep, rumbling sound that always made her knees weaken. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. 

“Well then… now that I’m here, you won’t have to clutch anything again, will you?”

Ah-Qing flushed, half from embarrassment, half from how his teasing struck straight to her core. She swatted at his arm with a small fist.

“You big oaf! We’re in a camp!”

“Dearest, you once told me yourself…anywhere we are together becomes a place of joy.”

“Not where a hundred soldiers are within earshot! AH! Don’t you dare kiss my cheek, it tickles!”

The laughter, the mock protests, the stolen kisses—one teasing spark led to another until warmth turned to fire.

And before long, what began as playful banter deepened into tenderness… then into passion burning hotter than any flame that could consume the night.

“If you tease me again,” she gasped between breaths, “I swear this won’t end lightly…”

“Then hush, my moonlight,” he murmured, voice hoarse and affectionate. “Or the whole camp will come running and find us like this.”

“I’ll try…” she whispered, eyes half-lidded as he drew closer still. “Though you’re the one who always makes me cry out as if my heart might burst.”

He smiled against her lips, tone low and dangerous with fondness.

“You’ve challenged me now, my love…so be ready to take the consequences.”

And that night, the Desert Princess was claimed once more by the Crimson Lord , again and again, as long as their hearts desired.

Not as a sacrifice, not as a wife bound by ceremony, but as two souls whose fates had intertwined, and who, by fortune’s grace, had never once let go of each other.

The span of love, though it may last but a single minute, felt endless— a dream neither of them wished to wake from.

The rhythm of their hearts, the mingling of breath and warmth,

and the unseen thread that bound them so tightly together, it held man and woman, warrior and wanderer, two lives of different blood and birth…as one.

“Guan-ge… don’t leave me again. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

“I cannot promise that,” he whispered, “but I will try …I’ll try my best.”

This night is long, too long to hide,

So dance, O Dragon, and Wolf, your bride.

Dance and whirl as hearts desire,

’Fore dawn consumes your mortal fire.

 

Dance, for tomorrow may end the tune,

If not at sunrise, then by noon.

 

So twine, so sing, so love, unbound.

For sometimes… Tomorrow never comes around.

 

I shall not speak much of how Liu Bei bargained with Lü Bu.

Let it suffice to say—the talks ended peacefully enough.

All were relocated to Xiaopei, and Lü Bu, who gained Xuzhou with laughable ease, had no inkling that he himself was now a mark in Liu Bei’s quiet sights.

(And really , who could lose a city and not bear a grudge?)

Ah… one side held the wild tiger that was Lü Bu,

The other : The ever-scheming Yuan Shu, dreaming of his own throne.

In the court, Cao Cao ruled the Son of Heaven like a puppet master,

And far south, the Sun clan sharpened their claws beneath the rising heat.

My dearest listeners— tell me, how will this world turn now?

Which wind shall steer the wheel of fate— the northern storm, the southern flame, or the whisper of destiny weaving between them all?

Chapter Text

Time flowed on as ever. Life within the temporary haven of Xiaopei continued beneath a ceaseless tension — one that could surge or subside at any given moment, like the restless waves that crash and retreat upon the shore.

At times, they lap gently.

At times, they strike with crushing force.

And yet, waves by their very nature never rest.

They never know stillness…Such is an undeniable truth of this world.

The story I am about to tell you now shall serve as a fine example of that very truth.

(1) The Mediation Between Lü Bu, Liu Bei, and Yuan Shu

The tale goes thus— Yuan Shu, still nursing a grudge from the time Liu Bei had once marched his troops against him, gathered an army of his own and set out to attack Xiaopei, intent on crushing it entirely.

Word of this spread swiftly to Lü Bu’s camp.

“General,” one of his men said, “this may be a good omen! If Yuan Shu wipes out Liu Bei, your troubles will vanish with him!”

“Indeed,” another agreed. “You know well Liu Bei is a fickle man—unworthy of trust. There’s no point in befriending him any longer.”

But Lü Bu was not the fool later generations painted him to be. He listened to every counsel, weighed every angle with care.

And after pondering deeply, he came to a conclusion that pleased him not in the least.

“Even if Liu Bei were gone,” he said at last, “Yuan Shu would soon turn his blade upon us anyway.”

Then, after a long silence, he added,

“No matter. I’ve thought of a plan.”

“A plan?” one of his men asked, puzzled.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Luo Guanzhong, in his Romance of the Three Kingdoms, recounts the ensuing negotiation in a rather dramatic manner: Lü Bu invited both Liu Bei and Ji Ling (Yuan Shu’s general) to a banquet within his camp.

There, he proposed an oath of chance – He would shoot an arrow at his halberd, the Sky-Piercer.

If he struck true, both sides must lay down arms; if he missed, then they could battle as they pleased.

And, as the story goes, Lü Bu shot his arrow and it struck the blade of the halberd cleanly. Thus both armies agreed to a truce, leaving none to contest his authority.

Yet, when one consults the official chronicle compiled by Chen Shou,mno such tale of archery or spectacle is found , only that the peace talks succeeded,and the armies stood down.

Whichever version you choose to believe, dear friends,I shall not compel you otherwise.

(2) Lü Bu and Yuan Shu’s Proposed Alliance — and the Rift with Chen Gong

Yuan Shu, ever scheming, sought to secure an alliance with Lü Bu through marriage.He sent a formal proposal to ask for Lü Bu’s daughter , Lü Lingqi(whom we’ve already met in earlier chapters) to wed his own son.

Chen Gong, Lü Bu’s strategist, knew well that this was a ploy meant to drive a wedge between Lü Bu and Liu Bei. Yet he supported the idea, seeing it as a chance to strengthen their position.

And so Lü Bu began preparing for the marriage celebration in haste.

However, there was one man who saw through the illusion.
Chen Gui — father of Chen Deng , though old in years, possessed wisdom sharp as a blade. He foresaw that if Lü Bu and Yuan Shu were to join hands, the land would soon drown in fire and blood.

One day, he went to pay Lü Bu a visit.
Bowing low, he said, “I heard news that the great general has passed away…I came to pay my respects to his spirit.”

Lü Bu, startled, asked what he meant. Chen Gui smiled faintly and replied, “If you truly ally yourself with Yuan Shu,the world will soon deem you dead, for Yuan Shu now plots to proclaim himself Emperor…Will you wish to be remembered as a rebel’s kin?”

From that moment, doubt began to take root in Lü Bu’s heart— doubt not only toward Yuan Shu, but toward his own trusted adviser, Chen Gong, who had endorsed the marriage to begin with.

Thus began the silent fracture between the brilliant yet volatile general and the strategist who once would have followed him through fire.

(3) The Circumstances That Forced Liu Bei to Join Hands with Cao Cao

No one truly knows what caused Lü Bu and Liu Bei to fall out. Not the chroniclers, nor even I myself.

All that is known is this— sometime before their quarrel, Cao Cao had already sent a letter inviting Liu Bei to form an alliance with him, a proposal to join forces and rid the realm of Lü Bu once and for all.

Liu Bei, however, did not agree. He judged that his army was still too small, too weak to stand as an equal partner.

Yet, in the third month of that very same year (A.D. 196), Lü Bu sent men to purchase a number of fine warhorses.

Unfortunately for him, those horses were intercepted and seized by a band of brigands— a band that, as it turned out, had been dispatched by none other than Zhang Fei.

When Lü Bu learned of this betrayal, his fury burned hotter than a furnace. He immediately ordered Zhang Liao and Gao Shun to lead troops to strike Xiaopei.

The result was disastrous. Liu Bei’s army, hopelessly outnumbered, was crushed in battle. He had no choice but to break through the encirclement and flee for his life, unable even to return to the city where his two wives were left behind.

Zhang Fei, upon seeing his elder brother disappear alone into the chaos, mounted his steed and charged after him without hesitation, leaving only Guan Yu behind to guard the rear, facing Zhang Liao on the field with grim resolve.

And thus ,that fateful day became the turning point ,forcing Liu Bei, unwilling though he was, to seek refuge under Cao Cao’s protection.

I have now recounted the underlying causes in brief.

So then without further delay, let us proceed to the true course of events.

That day was as ordinary as any other for the people trapped within Xiaopei, unsure when their three protectors would return.

For the women, however, such waiting was far from peaceful— each hour stretched long with worry for their husbands and kinsmen still out on the field.

“Auntie… How’s Lord Liu Bei’s fate?” asked Lady Mi, the first to break the silence.

“He will return safely, won’t he?” Lady Gan added softly, her brows knitted with unease.

Lady Hu, seated not far from them, gave a calm smile.

“He will return safe and sound,” she said. “And there is good news as well, he may soon gain a new ally.”

Such moments were common in this season of waiting.

The two young sisters-in-law, Lady Mi and Lady Gan , both closer in age to her own children than to herself , often came to Lady Hu’s residence, seeking her counsel to divine their husbands’ fortunes, or to ask for readings about matters that weighed on their hearts.

“Mother!”

At the sound of the call, Lady Hu turned her head and there was her eldest son, running toward her, a roll of silk clasped tightly in his hands, his face lit with delight.

“Lord Mi Zhu sent me this letter, it’s from Father!”

Lady Hu’s heart skipped a beat.

Excitement, confusion, fear, and joy struck all at once , a thousand melodies playing in dissonant harmony within her chest.

As she rose to her feet, every step toward the message felt perilous, as though her spirit might leave her body should her mind falter before reaching the end.

Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath to steady herself, then carefully unrolled the letter. Her two sisters-in-law leaned in close, and her beloved son stood at her side— all three peering over with eyes full of anxious curiosity.

Dearest,

Forgive me for not writing to you sooner.

So much – both good and ill has come to pass in so short a time that even my brothers and I could scarcely keep pace with it all.

First of all… how have you been, my love? Have you fallen ill, or do you still sleep well at night?

And our sons, Ping’er and Xing’er…Are they still strong and cheerful in my absence?

I pray that all within Xiaopei remain safe and sound.

Clear tears welled at the corners of Lady Hu’s eyes, but she fought with all her will to keep them from falling. Her gaze moved slowly, line by line, reading on through the words that carried his distant warmth.

Let me come straight to the point.

I have both good news and bad news to tell you— though you are a woman, you are my wife, and I trust that you are wise enough to understand what lies beneath it.

The good news is…We have found Lord Liu Bei.

Our lord is safe and sound ,a little battered and worn, perhaps, but still very much alive.

At that, Lady Mi and Lady Gan both let out a cryhalf sob, half laughter ,their tears spilling freely, their hearts lightened at last. Even young Guan Ping exhaled in relief, glad that his Da-bo (Great Uncle) yet lived.

But that moment of joy was short-lived...Their eyes drifted downward, to the next line of the letter.

The bad news… no, perhaps it’s not entirely bad, but something about it feels strange.

The man who rescued our lord was Xiahou Dun, one of the chief generals serving Chancellor Cao.

We were received with all manner of honor and courtesy, praised and celebrated as though we were kin.

And yet, I cannot shake the feeling that it’s all too perfect ,too smooth, too generous.

Something must lie beneath the surface… though I don't know what it is.

 

Yide feels the same, maybe he sees more clearly than I.

“I think Cao Cao seeks to befriend Da-ge,” he said ,“to use him as a shield against that cur Lü Bu.”

"And only that?" 

"No. Don’t forget whose hands now hold the Imperial Court..."

At that single thought, the blood within me turned to ice. My whole body trembled with a chill I could not name.

What, in Heaven’s name,are we walking into?

 

Lady Hu’s slender fingers tightened around the silk scroll, her wide eyes tracing every stroke, every line, as though she might etch the words into her very soul.

I was walking quietly behind one of the tents…and I overheard men quarreling inside.

“We can’t let the Chancellor take Liu Bei in!”

“Exactly! There are plenty of men with the surname Liu in this land but how many claim to be of imperial blood, eh? Isn’t that suspicious?”

“I say Liu Bei is plotting something great. If we let him live freely—”

“No! We can’t let the Chancellor kill him! Do you fools not see the chaos that would follow?!”

I stood there for a long while, listening to every word they spat.

Part of me burned to rush in and cut them down where they stood , but another part… forced my feet to turn away, to leave that place as quickly as I could, and to try…Gods help me , to think no more of it.

 

“An enemy wearing the face of a friend…” Lady Hu murmured, her thoughts drifting to an old legend her father once told her long ago. It was the tale of the battle between the God of Light and the demon called Ahriman (阿赫尔曼) — a being who stood as the very “god” of wickedness, the mirror-image opposite of all that the God of Light embodied: virtue, grace, and exaltation.

Ah-Qing, you once told me that some powerful demons can take on such beautiful forms and work miracles like gods do, until men are fooled and cannot tell them apart.

I do not know if such things truly exist or not, but… answer me, my dearest. Answer me, please.

Do you think a man like the Chancellor — the one whose name bears the word “light” — is a god… or a demon?

From your husband,

Guan Yunchang

P.S. The Hu-Bing pastries you sent are not finished yet. My brothers and I should be able to tear into them for quite some time yet, I think.

 

Chapter Text

Dear listeners, have you ever seen what they call a mirage? A glimmer of water shimmering far off on a sweltering road or the blazing desert sands , like a flicker of hope just beyond reach. 

Yet once you draw near, that hope crumbles, for the oasis was never there to begin with. It was merely a trick of the eye, woven from waves of heat and the play of light.

Indeed, having said this much… I suppose I must cease hiding it from you all.

Wandering Warrior: “There! He’s here!”

The Dancer: “Cao Cao! That pale-faced snake!”

Everyone: “The villain! He’s come!”

(Everyone points at the Cao Cao puppet in my hand, which I have just drawn from my satchel and held up for all to see.)

The sweet-faced boy of yesteryear now sports a sparse beard , not quite scruffy enough to obscure the venom-laced charm of his youth, yet enough to show he’s grown.

Now then, when it comes to this statesman surnamed Cao, his story blazes so brightly it threatens to outshine the smaller stars of our tale.  But to leave him unspoken of? That would be unjust.

So, comrades, allow me to speak of him—briefly.

Cao Cao (曹操), born in the state of Peiguo, was once known by his childhood names Ah-Man (阿瞞) and Jili (吉利). He was the son of Cao Song (曹嵩) and a concubine whose name has long since vanished from memory.

By birth, he should’ve borne the surname Xiahou, but fate had other plans. His father, Cao Song, was adopted by the eunuch Cao Teng (曹騰), and so the boy took on the surname Cao. Unlike his cousins Xiahou Dun (夏侯惇) and Xiahou Yuan (夏侯渊), he became forever known as a Cao.

As a boy, Ah-Man was infamous for both good and ill. On the bright side, he was deeply filial to his father and immensely brave ,clever beyond comparison for his age. But oh, the darker tales are numerous! Too many to count!

You may have heard of how he once faked a fainting spell to discredit his uncle—collapsing dramatically before him, prompting the man to summon Cao Song in alarm. 

Yet when the father arrived, the boy stood up and played casually, as if nothing had happened.

“Ah-Man! Are you unwell? Your uncle said you’d fallen into a fit!”

“You’ve misunderstood, Father. I’ve never been gravely ill. I suppose Uncle must have disliked me and decided to spread falsehoods.”

And from that moment on, Cao Song no longer believed that uncle’s words.

The official chronicles, meanwhile, tell us only that young Ah-Man was not much inclined toward study. He preferred hunting and brawling , activities that earned him a reputation as a rogue, a troublemaker, and a youth marked by cunning from the start.

There is a tale of how, once grown, Cao Cao sought the fortune-teller Xu Shao (許劭)—famed for judging men by their faces. At a friend’s urging, he went to meet him.

The moment Xu Shao looked the small-framed young man up and down, he said:

“In times of chaos, you will be a hero.

In times of peace, you will be a villain.”

Cao Cao laughed it off at the time, waving it away with a grin… Or so he seemed. In truth? Perhaps he tucked those words into his chest and carried them ever after.

Around the second year of the Guanghe reign (c. 175 AD), he came of age and took on the style name Mengde (孟德). It was then that he began his career in government—as Captain of the Garrison in Luoyang. And by all accounts, he performed this role with commendable rigor.

It is said that he planted a cudgel outside his office as a symbol—ordering that lawbreakers be punished by the rod regardless of their rank or class. A rare kind of boldness for a fresh-faced official.

But the deed that first carved his name into the pages of history? That was during the suppression of the Yellow Turban Rebellion—which I’ve spoken of before.

His efforts were stellar. Victorious, he was promoted to Chancellor of Jinan (濟南郡) and tasked with stifling the rebels’ spread in that region. Cao Cao took swift action—banning unorthodox cults, tearing down temples, and elevating Confucian orthodoxy. These policies, however, made the local elites bristle. Some were so enraged, they sent thugs to attack him and his family.

Thus, around the 4th year of the Zhongping reign (c. 187 AD), Cao Cao resigned his post, citing illness.

Later, he was offered the post of Governor of Dong Commandery (東郡), but declined it—and returned home to Peiguo instead.

Yet fate would not let this man rest.

When the tyrant Dong Zhuo seized control of the court, Cao Cao joined the alliance of 18 warlords led by Yuan Shao, determined to drive the usurper out and restore the Han court.

Though the alliance ultimately dissolved—paralyzed by inaction after Dong Zhuo abducted Emperor Xian and moved the court to Chang’an—the young Mengde had already stepped onto the gameboard of destiny.

And that, dear listeners, is enough backstory for now.

Let us return to our own tale—and the present moment within it.

“I’ve had just about enough of this!” bellowed the general surnamed Zhang, stomping back and forth through their quarters. “First we had to bow to Lü Bu, and now we’ve got to yield to Cao Cao?! When will Big Brother ever be free from hiding under someone else’s wing?!”

The general surnamed Guan, who was sitting nearby listening to his younger brother’s tirade, tore a piece of Hu-bing pastry in half and handed it over.

“You’re so noisy. Hungry? Here. Take this.”

Zhang Fei’s eyes lit up the moment he saw the snack. He snatched it from his brother’s hand and chomped down with the fury of a starving tiger—no, more like a grumpy kitten that just got into a catfight and came running back to its human for grilled fish. Adorably pitiful.

At present (circa 197–198 AD), the three sworn brothers were still residing in the quarters provided by Cao Cao within the imperial capital of Xuchang. Though they were safe and well accommodated, to them, it felt more like a golden cage—a place with scheduled times they were allowed to step out and breathe.

Not a retreat. Not a place to rest between wars.

“You, Erge…Don’t you miss your wife and sons?”

Guan Yu fell silent at that. He didn’t answer. Instead, his hand slipped into his robe and retrieved a silk pouch. Inside were locks of hair : one from Hu Qingyue, one from Guan Ping – a token he kept close to his heart, never once parting with it, even when they’re reunited.

‘Of course I miss them… I just don’t know when I’ll get to go back.’ He thought.

No matter how much time passed, the three young men remained in Xuchang, wearing brave faces while their hearts sagged beneath the weight of captivity.

Liu Bei often sighed, doing his best not to cry.

Zhang Fei, restless as ever, took to tossing pebbles or kicking a shuttlecock around, desperate for anything to keep his mind from spiraling into gloom.

And the bearded beauty known as Guan Yu?

Ah… he didn’t do much, truly. His only relief from the loneliness came from reading ancient texts, writing letters to be sent home to Xiaopei, and reading the letters he received from someone who waited for him there.

O, dearest Guan-ge! Every time I read your tale about Lord Cao being ambushed by Zhang Xiu’s army while he was lying in bed with Lady Zhen—I laugh until I cry!

Guan Yu smiled faintly as his eyes traced the delicate handwriting of his beloved wife. In his heart, he could already hear her laughter, see her teasing grin, feel the ghost of her hand reaching for his.

Well, I’m not surprised. Lord Cao does have a pretty little face, doesn’t he? All the young women fall for him.

But even so… a man like that can’t possibly compare to my Guan-ge.

Guan-ge… I miss you so dearly.When will you come home to Xiaopei? I long for your arms… and the warmth of your body beside me.

There was only the wind blowing softly past him… and the silence within.His phoenix-shaped eyes stared blankly at the last lines of the letter, a gaze full of sorrow and weight. This was the look of a man called head of the family, who bore the invisible wound of loneliness with no promise of when it might end.

Sometimes, he wondered quietly why his parents had chosen the name “Yu” (羽) which meant feather or wing.

Birds, after all, were meant to soar free upon the wind. So why… Why were he and his sworn brothers trapped inside this grand golden cage?

But such questions brought no answer.

His parents , those who might have answered , had long left this world, ever since that night when the skies over Hedong were painted red with blood.

If you think it was only the men who suffered in silence… Let me tell you now—the women who waited suffered even more.

So bitter was their anguish, it would put your most tragic heartbreak to shame.

Dearest.

You must have heard by now that Yuan Shu has declared himself Emperor. I imagine your fury burns no less than mine—and that of many others in the land.

What right does he think he has? What power or virtue could he possibly claim to dare such a thing?!

In all my life, I have never seen a man so arrogantly reach up and drag the heavens down to earth like this. 

Truly vile!

Lady Hu Qingyue read every word of her husband’s letter with utter focus, so intense that it felt as if she could absorb all his fury straight from the ink, letting it settle into the core of her chest. Her other hand stroked the head of her eldest son, who lay peacefully with his head in her lap—soft and gentle, as if the world beyond this small room had not gone mad.

There’s now a so-called imperial edict calling for Lord Liu, Sun Ce, and Lü Bu to join forces in subduing Yuan Shu.

But Yide and I suspect the decree didn’t truly come from the Son of Heaven himself…

Still, what can we do?  When Heaven commands, who among us dares defy it?

 

(I only hope that Lü Bu doesn’t decide to betray us again and go crawling back to Yuan Shu)

Lady Hu gave a dry, weary smile, her voice barely a whisper. “You already know, don’t you… that Lü Bu can’t be trusted…So why expect anything different from that wretch?”

Ah-Qing, my beloved…Do you know how long this has felt?
Each day stretches like years.

Even though we’ve now left Xuchang to fight against Yuan Shu, my heart… it aches for all of this to just be over.

I must say something plainly, honestly.

And please…

Please accept the weakness in me that follows.

For what I’m about to write… I’ve never dared to share with anyone but you.

 

The general’s wife caught her breath, a soft, startled hiccup. The hand that had been gently combing through her son’s hair paused, just slightly.As her eyes traced the next lines, the warmth in her blood began to drain away.

Maybe I’m imagining things.

Maybe I’m being paranoid.

But I swear—my memory is clear.

That day, I was simply walking… Lost in thought, wandering through the guest quarters within the Chancellor’s estate. At some point, I thought to myself—I should head back to rest.

 

But then…My eyes caught sight of him.

The Chancellor, Cao Mengde, standing by the entrance gate. It was a fair distance, but those eyes…I’ll never forget them.

Hawk-sharp...Blazing with vitality like wildfire.

 

And yet…Gods above.

Why?

Why is it, even as I write this now…Why is his gaze still seared into my mind?

 

Ah-Qing’s pale fingers clenched tighter around the letter...A tempest stirred within her chest.

Confusion.

Fear.

Fury.

All crashing and curling over one another like waves in a storm.And yet…Lady Hu Qingyue betrayed nothing on her face.

She kept her composure,straightened her back and keep on reading

You used to tell me stories about gods and demons so often, my love. I never fully understood them, but there’s one that has stayed with me. Among those countless beings whose names I can hardly pronounce the way you do, there was a kind that chills me to the bone whenever I recall it.

They say these demons take on forms of exquisite beauty—both male and female.

Some even have wings, painted in hues bright as jewels.

Their voices sing songs more enchanting than any music in this world.

Yet all that they possess—their beauty, their song, their light , are nothing but illusion and snare,meant for the lost and the soft‑hearted.

Like a blinding light—radiant, yes, but one that burns the eyes of whoever dares to gaze upon it.

 

I tell myself the Chancellor is but a man, flesh and blood, as we all are.That is what I wish to believe.

But every time I close my eyes and recall that gaze…I begin to doubt. I begin to wonder whether he truly is human or some demon disguised in human form.

 

Perhaps… just perhaps…

The light that people chase and worship is nothing more than a mirage.

 

From the general who’s secretly afraid of a man several chi shorter than himself,

Guan Yunchang.

 

Hu Qingyue set the letter gently upon the mattress.

Her gaze drifted downward to where Guan Ping lay sleeping, still deep in slumber , no sign of tossing or nightmare, that alone eased her heart, if only a little.

How unfortunate that Ah-Xing, their second son, was spending the night with the nursemaid...If he were here, she might have pulled him close as well , just to hold something warm while longing for the man whose warmth she missed most of all.

She pressed her palms together in prayer, closing her eyes. She summoned the memory of a lotus-carved stone she once saw long ago in White Horse Temple of Luoyang.

And with it, she envisioned a gentle light , soft and still like moonlight. A light that she had come to associate with “God,” not as some divine king on a throne, but as an embodiment of wisdom, of serenity.

Then came her whispered prayer, a chant in a foreign tongue, one she had learned during her years of study with monks and pilgrims from the western reaches:

“urtam wahu wahištam ištī

uštā istī uštā ahmāi

yat urtāi wahištāi urtam”

(Goodness is the best of all truths.

True joy belongs to the righteous.

One who lives in truth shall find lasting peace.)

 

The prayer drifted softly on the Han wind.

Rising.

Falling.

Fading away like time and water, like all the things this world deems unimportant.

But perhaps... Perhaps what the wind and the river cannot carry away is love and hope.

Two things mortals cling to like oars in a storm,in a world as uncertain as it is cruel , a world where human hearts, so fragile, might shatter at any moment if robbed of both love and hope.

And we, we who are here now, can do little more than join her in silent prayer— that somehow, somehow it will all end well.

Even as we all sense , deep down , that the true ending of this tale will break our hearts just as surely as theirs.

Major Events around 197 AD

• Zhang Xiu (張繡), warlord of Wancheng, plotted to attack Xuchang, the imperial capital. Pretending to surrender, he positioned his forces as a buffer against Liu Biao, but secretly conspired with his strategist Jia Xu (賈詡) to launch an ambush.
  
  
• When Cao Cao became enamored with Lady Zhen (Zhen Shi), a widow who was Zhang Xiu’s aunt-in-law, Jia Xu sent assassins to kill him during the night. The attempt failed thanks to Dian Wei, Cao Cao’s loyal bodyguard, who fought to the death. Nonetheless, the aftermath was disastrous: Cao Cao lost not only Dian Wei, but also his eldest son Cao Ang (曹昂) and his nephew Cao Anmin (曹安民) in the chaos.
  
  It is said that when Lady Ding (丁夫人) Cao Cao’s principal wife, who had raised Cao Ang as her own , heard of the boy’s death, she was so heartbroken and furious that she demanded a divorce from Cao Cao.
  
  
• Yuan Shu, meanwhile, declared himself emperor in Shouchun, using the Imperial Jade Seal he had received from Sun Ce. This bold act turned nearly all other warlords against him. Even Sun Ce , who was now strong enough to rule Jiangdong on his own , cut ties completely.
• In response, Cao Cao submitted a memorial to Emperor Xian, requesting permission to launch a campaign against Yuan Shu. An imperial edict was then issued, calling upon Liu Bei, Sun Ce, and Lü Bu to join forces and attack Yuan Shu from all sides.

Chapter Text

The thunder of hooves drummed against the earth, kicking up spirals of dust , an omen that battle was about to ignite. Along the ramparts, archers raised their bows in a unified, disciplined arc, each one ready to loose death upon the invaders gathering below.

But just as the bowstrings were beginning to tighten – A voice surged through the air, cutting clean through tension like a blade.

“Hold your fire!”

It was none other than Guan Yu, the bearded general whose presence carried both the serenity of old rites and the sharpness of fresh steel. He strode forward, boots ringing against stone, and halted at the edge of the city wall.

 His gaze swept downward ,catching sight of a man he recognized instantly.

“Zhang Liao!”

Zhang Liao, standing beneath the wall with dust on his armor and resignation on his shoulders, shouted back:

“Is that General Guan?”

(Please remember him well, dear readers—this man will matter.)

Guan Yu’s voice lowered, steady but fierce, like a monk chanting through clenched teeth.

“We have crossed paths many times, General Zhang. I know your heart. I know your virtue. A man of honor like you…”

He paused, breath deepening...Then, with a sudden snap, words turned sharp as the crack of a whip: “Why debase yourself serving a villain like Lü Bu?! That three-fathered bastard!”

Zhang Liao could only swallow hard, his throat tightening as though the insult had seized him by the collar.

“Er-ge! Er-ge, wake up!”

The shout snapped sharply across the dimness of dawn.

Correct ,everything I spoke of earlier was no mere narration, but a memory resurfacing, flowing back into consciousness in the shape of a dream.

Guan Yunchang blinked up at the pale canopy of the tent, breath still thick with sleep. He pushed himself up from the straw mat he shared with his sworn brothers, rubbing his eyes until the blur dissolved. 

A brief dizziness swept through him , whether from the dream, or from rising too fast, he could not tell.

Zhang Fei, the little tiger of their trio, didn’t wait for orders. He moved with his usual chaotic affection, pouring wine into a cup and handing it over. Guan Yu accepted the cup, took a slow swallow, and let the warmth seep through his lips and down his throat until the fog in his skull began to part.

But I know, you know…No heat from wine could ever rival the warmth of familiar skin , of the one waiting far away. (Though this black cat honestly never understands why humans cling to those bodies that are forever “rotting toward ruin.”)

But longing must wait. Something far more urgent approached.

“Ah, you’re awake?” 

Liu Xuande stepped into the tent, tone soft but edged with concern. “Do you know… you were talking in your sleep. Almost till dawn. A nightmare?”

“I… must’ve remembered when Lü Bu’s men surrounded Xuzhou two years ago,” Guan Yunchang murmured. “Zhang Liao… I don’t know why he came to mind again.”

Before the three brothers could exchange another word, a voice called from outside:

“Lord Liu, the Chancellor summons you!”

Liu Bei nodded back. “Very well. Give us a moment to prepare, and we’ll come.”

The messenger withdrew—only for another soldier, one of Liu Bei’s own, to enter. He bowed low, offering a silk scroll with both hands.

Liu Xuande unrolled it. The moment the brothers read the short message within, their eyes widened—three pairs of startled pupils reflecting the same grim light.

Later that morning, they gathered before the Chancellor himself. His officers were already deep in debate, trading strategies and arguments with the heat of iron striking iron. The three brothers , half outsiders, half allies ,stood in the distant rows, silent observers.

“My lord,” Xun You spoke first, “we cannot retreat now. An army is its general ,when the general loses his spirit, the army is lost. Lü Bu is shaken. Chen Gong finds no countermeasure. We must seize the moment and strike Xiapi.”

Then Guo Jia—Cao Cao’s brilliant, ghostly-minded adviser , folded his hands.

“My lord, I have a method far more effective than a hundred thousand soldiers.”

Someone whispered, “You mean… break the dams and flood the city?”

A small smile. “Precisely.”

Silence pooled like ink.

But from where he stood, Guan Yu could see it clearly ,there was no hesitation in the Chancellor’s gaze. None at all.

“DESTROY!”

The command fell like a guillotine.

Soon afterward, the dams along the Yi River were destroyed. Water roared into Xiapi with terrible speed. Lü Bu’s battered forces—already weakened after years of retreat ,collapsed further. 

And then came plague.

Soldiers wasted.

Morale drowned.

A tiger may roar, but even a tiger cannot outrun a rising river.

“My lord! You’ve had far too much to drink!”

Lady Yan tried to stop her husband ,desperate, trembling, only to cry out as he shoved her away, falling hard to the ground.

“Leave me alone, damn it!” Lü Bu roared, tears streaking down his face ,tears born of humiliation, fury, and the crushing weight of his own downfall.

How could he not think back? 

If only he had never trusted that wretched father-and-son pair, Chen Gui and Chen Deng… If only he hadn’t elevated them as advisers over Chen Gong, the one who had served him faithfully for years. Had he not been so gullible, so easily swayed, would he have sunk to such depths?

You may have heard the tale— Of Lü Bu shutting himself away in the inner residence, drowning his shame in wine for days on end. His once-handsome hair turned disheveled, the clean-shaven face grew thin, pallid, and shadowed by unkempt stubble.

One day he caught sight of himself in a bronze mirror… and in that moment of pitiful clarity, he swore off alcohol entirely.

Then he issued a decree to every officer under his command:

“Anyone caught drinking wine will be executed!”

Ah… laughable, truly. 

For that harsh, rigid, utterly inflexible command…would become the very serpent that slithered back and sank its fangs into him in the end.

Chen Deng and his faction informed Guan Ping, and Ping relayed everything to me. Lü Bu has grown recklessly complacent, assuming that neither Chancellor Cao nor Lord Liu will attack him.

Guan Yunchang read his wife’s letter in silence.

Liu Xuande stared absently toward the open fields beyond the camp.

Zhang Fei idly tossed pebbles, as usual, as though the earth itself were his toy.

He believes that since Chen Gong has secured the floodgates of Xiapi, all is safe. So now he does nothing—shut away in his residence, surrounded by his wife and countless concubines. At this rate… he will not escape the grasp of Chancellor Cao’s cunning nor Lord Liu’s resolve.

Liu Bei stayed silent for a long moment—until Yunchang read the next passage aloud.

And in that instant, it was as though a spark glimmered through long-standing fog; as though the moon finally broke free from behind a wandering veil of cloud.

The clarity that had eluded him since Lü Bu seized Xuzhou years ago finally began to crystallize.

Let this be known to you, my lord… Whatever happens, whatever Lü Bu may beg of you, do not listen.

You know full well the nature of that man.

Forgive a woman for speaking boldly of a warrior, but to me he is merely a beast wearing human skin—dangerous, uncontrollable.

A hawk can be tamed only because prey is placed in its claws. This flying general… tamed only by war and slaughtering to his heart’s content.

Knowing this, my lord—can you still find it in your heart to be merciful toward one so perilous?

 

When Liu Xuande finished hearing her words, he closed his eyes. He exhaled softly, like a man putting down a weight he had carried too many seasons.

Then he opened them again, gaze firm for the first time in years.

“I have decided…I will trust the counsel given in this secret letter.”

The two younger brothers didn’t reply.They didn’t need to.

A single shared glance was enough—joy, relief, and a fierce satisfaction burning in their eyes.

At last, their gentle-hearted elder brother…was willing to harden his heart against a man like Lü Bu.

Now then—I’ve spoken enough of the affairs of men.

Let us turn our gaze to the inner world of women and children within the walls of Xiaopei. For some say: ever since Liu Bei’s forces broke through the encirclement laid by Gao Shun and Zhang Liao, Xiaopei has all but become a “city of widows.”

Few adult men remained to guard the city.

Even fewer soldiers were stationed there.

What filled the inner residence now were women… and children.

Nothing more.

Guan Ping was sixteen that year. His growth had slowed, settling into the early build of manhood. And judging by his height, had his father been home, the boy would already reach the level of his father’s shoulder.

His face still bore the pale elegance of his mother, yet the lines were sharpening into the contours of a young warrior. His once round, bright eyes had grown narrower ,filled with thoughts and knowledge of a world shaped by war, fire, and blood.

Yet even so, a trace of boyish light still lingered.

“Gege! Ping-ge!” A small voice chirped from behind.

Ping turned from the city gate—and saw a five-year-old boy toddling toward him, arms outstretched, demanding an embrace.

Guan Ping smiled softly and swept his little brother up into his arms.

This year, Ah-Xing was five. His baby fat was fading, replaced by the healthy frame of a growing child , bright-eyed, cheerful, and blessedly strong.

“What are you doing out here, my boy?” Lady Hu approached, gently draping a cloak over her eldest son’s shoulders against the chill.

“I was just… thinking of Father,” Ping said quietly. Then he asked, softly, “Mama… do you think of him too?”

Lady Hu fell silent…The moment stretched long enough for Ping’s heart to sink ,slowly chewed apart by guilt.

“S-sorry, Mama… I didn’t mean—”

But she did not scold, nor sigh, nor allow sorrow to slip through. She only reached out, stroked her son’s hair, and smiled the same gentle smile she always had.

Heat crept up Ping’s cheeks—whether from embarrassment or relief, he could not tell.

“It’s all right, my child. I miss him too…But your mother is still standing.”

She tapped his shoulder lightly. “Evening air is cold. Come inside, both of you.”

“Yes, Mama. Good idea.” Ping kissed little Xing’s cheeks. “There’s dew tonight. You’ll get sick.”

Back in the sleeping quarters, it wasn’t long before both boys drifted off—Ping curled protectively around Ah-Xing, holding him close. Lady Hu sat beside them, watching.

She sighed—but quietly.

For she was a soldier’s wife, and a mother.

Softness and sorrow had long been trained out of her expressions by years of partings : short ones, long ones, ones that stretched thin like frayed cloth.

She didn’t fear for herself…She feared for her sons.

Ping had been separated from his father at one month old. They truly lived together only when he turned nine—so long apart that the boy nearly forgot the face of his own father, and was too shy to meet him.

As for little Xing—it had been two, nearly three years since Xiapi fell to Lü Bu. The child’s chances to see his father came and went like the missing crescent of the moon.

Here one night, gone the next. She feared another father-child distance might form.

Yet Lady Hu did not frown.

She did not cry.

She did not weep quietly in the shadows.

She merely prayed.

And prayed again.

Eventually she fell asleep beside them, arms wrapped protectively around both sons—as though her embrace could shield them from the world of blood, fire, and iron outside.

Though her eyes closed… her mind did not.

It drifted into a dream:

A tiger lay sleeping inside a cave on a hill, surrounded by rising floodwaters. Small animals—squirrels, birds, mice , gathered around the beast, tying it down with vines.

Then one mouse ran off and returned with a long-eared white rabbit , a black-furred young bull, a great spotted leopard…and a firebird whose feathers glowed brighter than the sun.

When Lady Hu woke, she told no one—not even her eldest son.

As she ground herbs in her stone mortar, she quietly interpreted the dream:

“The tiger is Lü Bu.

He will destroy himself with his own rage.

His followers will betray him and join Cao Cao.

The white rabbit is Lord Liu.

The young bull is Guan-ge.

The leopard is Ah-Fei.

And the firebird… that must be the Chancellor himself.”

That day was an otherwise ordinary morning of the 4th year of Jian’an (roughly February 7th, 199 CE.) Only Guan Yu knew…that the fabric of “ordinary” was about to tear.

News had already reached everyone: Xiapi had fallen.

Lü Bu and his men had been captured and delivered to Chancellor Cao for judgment— to determine who would live and who would die.

You may have heard the tale: Lü Bu betrayed by his own—Hou Cheng, Song Xian, Wei Xu, bound like an animal and handed to Cao Cao.

They even tossed his famed halberd down from the battlements, a final, humiliating declaration of defeat.

In the Hou Hanshu, however, there is an odd account: that before Xiapi fell, Lü Bu begged his men to cut off his head and present it to Cao Cao , seeing no hope of resisting the siege any longer.

Whatever the truth had been, the ending was the same: Lü Bu and those who followed him were seized and marched to judgment.

Standing before the gate of the “home” that had once sheltered his own family,

Guan Yu saw the tiger for the first time in years— not in rumor, not in memory, but in the raw flesh of defeat.

Lü Bu—the warrior of the North, giant of a man, radiant as a deity, wolf-hearted and fed by the violence of war was now reduced to nothing but a withered shell.

No majesty of a general.

No shine of past glories.

Only the ruins of former triumph, seconds from collapse.

“Lord Cao…” Lü Bu turned to the small man in black robes trimmed with red , a mockery of a smile tugging at his lips. “These ropes… They're too tight. It's hard to talk like this.”

Cao Mengde smirked right back.

“To catch a tiger, you tie it down…Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Lü Bu laughed under his breath— bitter, self-mocking.

“Fair enough. I forgot.”

If you had asked Guan Yu at that moment— What did he feel, seeing the beast before him?

Anger that he stole the city your Lord had rightfully won?

Yes.

Anger that his bloodlust birthed a war that devoured innocent lives?

Yes.

Anger that he once sought to violate your wife?

Yes.

Furious…Really furious

Combine all of it, and were it not for the high-ranking officials surrounding them…Guan Yu would have stormed forward, punched Lü Bu square in the jaw and drawn his blade across the bastard’s throat right there.

But it was not his place to be the executioner.

So he stood still and watched in silence.

Chancellor Cao merely stroked the slight stubble on his chin, eyes sharp as a drawn blade as he examined the bound man. Then he turned, slowly, deliberately toward the man of Liu clan.

“Xuande… what do you think?”

The Guan and Zhang brothers shot each other a look and though they said nothing, their thoughts roared louder than any battlefield:

‘Don’t soften now, brother.’

‘Please… don’t pity him again.’

‘If you go soft, we’re all screwed.’

‘At least trust what that letter told you…’

Liu Bei let his gaze fall upon the bound tiger. It was a gaze stripped of emotion—stripped even of memory— as though he had never known this man at all.

And how could he “know” him? This was the man who had betrayed him, and stole Xuzhou from him in a moment of carelessness years ago!

“Have you not learned from the fates of Ding Yuan and Dong Zhuo?”

Lü Bu’s head snapped up.

Not with fear—but with a venomous rage pulsing through his veins like poison.

A fury so strong he nearly choked on it.

“You… what did you say?”

Liu Bei did not blink. He repeated himself—calm, steady, merciless.

“Have you not learned from the fates of Ding Yuan and Dong Zhuo?”

That was when the tiger’s patience, fraying thin as silk in a storm, finally tore— exploding into wrath just moments before it died out.

“You long-eared bastard! You treacherous snake! I saved your life when we fought Yuan Shu and this is how you repay me?!”

“Lü Bu! Just shut up!”

Everyone turned toward the voice. It was Zhang Liao, bound just like the others, dragged before Cao Cao for judgment. He glared at the man who was about to become his former lord—eyes filled not with fear, but pity.

“A real warrior either wins or dies! What’s there to be afraid of?”

For reasons of his own, Chancellor Cao stepped toward Zhang Liao.

He studied him for a moment, then spoke with feigned curiosity “Hmm. I feel like I recognize you…Weren’t you the one who ordered the city burned to lure me in?”

“Yes.”

“Bold work. A shame… you served the wrong master.”

Zhang Liao snorted.“Hah. I regret it even more..If only I’d set more fires that day,you wouldn’t be standing here babbling in front of me now.”

“You rascal! Shut your mouth, will you!” Cao Cao raised his sword, ready to strike him where he stood.

But someone stepped in front of him.

Someone no one expected.

“Lord Cao, do not kill him.” Guan Yu’s voice was steady, low, and unyielding. “Zhang Liao is an honorable man—brave and virtuous. You should spare him.”

Guan Yu knew exactly whom he was addressing. And yes—deep inside, he still trembled whenever he met those narrow, honey-sweet eyes that looked like a demon’s gaze in human form.

But he spoke anyway. “If he ever betrays you in the future— you may take my head as the price.”

Cao Mengde’s lips curled into a smile.He slid his sword back into its sheath and let out a bright, ringing laugh.

“Just joking, just joking. You there—untie him. See that General Zhang is bathed, dressed properly, and treated with respect.”

Once Zhang Liao—the lucky one was taken away, attention returned to Lü Bu.

The tiger lifted his head and glared at Liu Bei with hatred sharp enough to cut stone. “You… are the most faithless wretch I have ever met!”

Then he turned back toward the Chancellor, voice cracking with desperation.

“My lord, look at me! I treated my men well and yet they betrayed me!”

“Treat them well, hmm?” Cao Cao scoffed softly. “I heard Hou Cheng betrayed you because you beat him just because he wanted to throw a banquet to celebrate you getting your horses back.”

Lü Bu froze.

His own iron rule had come back like a venomous snake to bite him clean through the throat.

“And one more thing.” Cao Cao’s smile sharpened—cold as midwinter ice.

“Personally, I admire your strength but whether it’s Liu Bei or my own men—none of them wish for you…to keep living.”

Ladies and gentlemen…I need not tell you how this story ends.

You already know.

Everyone knows.

The tiger meets its fate—as all tigers do, when the ropes tighten and the sky refuses to answer their roar.

And yet…do not think for a moment that the tale ends here.

No. This is only the beginning.

I promise you that much.

Summary of Events, 198–199 CE

● 198 CE — Alliance of Cao Cao and Liu Bei

Cao Cao and Liu Bei formally joined forces to subdue Lü Bu once and for all.

The campaign dragged on for months, causing Cao Cao to consider retreating. However, strategists Xun Yu and Guo Jia urged him to press forward, arguing that Lü Bu , though unmatched in personal martial skill—lacked prudence and sound judgment.

● Decline of Lü Bu’s Strategic Command

In earlier years, Lü Bu had trusted the counsel of Chen Gong, whose strategies were generally sound. But he later abandoned Chen Gong’s advice and instead trusted Chen Gui and Chen Deng — a father-and-son pair secretly aligned with Cao Cao.

From that point on, Lü Bu’s army repeatedly suffered defeat after defeat.

● Flooding of Xiapi

Cao Cao employed a drastic tactic: breaking the dams of the Yi River to flood Xiapi.The rising waters caused chaos and devastation within the city.

Soon after, disease spread among Lü Bu’s troops, killing many.

Morale collapsed entirely. Even Lü Bu secluded himself, paralyzed by despair.

● Early 199 CE — Collapse and Capture

Ultimately, Lü Bu was betrayed by three of his own men—Hou Cheng, Song Xian, and Wei Xu ,who tied him up and delivered him to Cao Cao. Along with him were Zhang Liao, Gao Shun, and Chen Gong, each brought forward for judgment.

● Chen Gong’s Fate

Cao Cao initially wished to spare Chen Gong and recruit him. However, Chen Gong refused and accepted execution.

It’s said that Cao Cao deeply regretted this and took responsibility by caring for Chen Gong’s surviving family (an elderly mother and a young daughter), bringing them to safety in Xu (Xuchang).

● Executions and Survival

Lü Bu and Gao Shun were executed—historical records state that the method was hanging.

Only Zhang Liao was spared, and he later rose to become one of Cao Cao’s most distinguished generals.

Chapter Text

“Father! Mama! I’m taking Xing’er to get some snacks!”

Guan Ping announced, hoisting little Xing onto his shoulders as he headed toward the inn’s front door—only for his shoulder to be seized by his mother.

“Ow, Mother! What are you going to nag me about this time?” The seventeen-year-old whined, already knowing full well what was coming.

“Don’t come back late. Don’t you dare drink. And most importantly… don’t lose your little brother. That’s all!” Hu Qingyue finished, giving his shoulder a light push. 

Guan Ping pulled a face, stuck his tongue out at her, and bolted when she raised her hand as if to smack him—playfully, of course.

Guan Yunchang watched the whole scene and let out a faint sigh. “Ping’er’s a young man now. How long will you keep hovering over him like that?”

“Says the man who spoils the children every chance he gets,” Hu Qingyue shot back with theatrical sarcasm.

After the war, life throughout the Han lands had finally returned to peace. Festivities swept across the capital and every prefecture and county. Parents and grandparents took their children to see performances, to eat street snacks, to breathe at last like ordinary people again.

For now, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, who were accompanying Liu Xuande—newly enlisted among those to receive commendations ,had chosen to lodge in a fairly affordable inn with surprisingly good service. They were given two of the largest and finest rooms, with several more modest rooms reserved for the retainers.

(And if you’re wondering where Zhang Fei is—naturally, he had already stormed off to find liquor somewhere in town!)

“Guan-ge… this reminds me of back then,” Hu Qingyue murmured, propping her chin on her hand as she gazed at the star-filled night sky. “When Father, you, and I stayed overnight in Luoyang, years ago.”

“Mhm.”

Yunchang nodded, watching her soft chatter with a quietly tender expression, before asking:

“How old are you this year?”

“Thirty-two. And you?”

“Thirty-seven. I don’t like it… not at all.”

“Eh? Why not?”

“I don’t like numbers that aren’t even.”

“Oh, please! Don’t be ridiculous!”

Before long, the two of them returned to their own chamber : a room with a bed wide enough for both to sleep in(or to do something a little more spirited),a wooden couch by the wall, and a fine carpet spread neatly across the floor.

The lamplight flickered ,soft and trembling , just like someone’s heart, quivering with longing, love, and the quiet ache of missing their other half after even the briefest separation.

“Guan-ge, are you cold?”

Ah-Qing asked, offering him a cup. “Drink a little. It’ll warm you.”

The bearded warrior took the cup, swallowed the tea in one smooth tilt, and set it down gently. With his other hand, he reached for his Spring and Autumn Annals, intending like in his youth to read until sleep claimed him.

Alas… he would have no such chance tonight.

None whatsoever.

“Ngh—!”

A bead of sweat gathered at his temple. Then came a slow, blooming heat rolling beneath his skin. His heart hammered in an odd, urgent rhythm; his pupils widened; his breath hitched.

Everything felt wrong…

He turned slowly toward his beloved wife, now fully aware that he had been defeated once again by her schemes.

“What… What did you put in my drink?”

Lady Hu’s smile blossomed, sweet and wicked. “Oh, just the usual tonic I always give you. The very same one.”

She crawled onto the bed, nestling so close he could hear the thundering thump-thump of his heartbeat. Her eyes glittered like twin phoenixes catching firelight.

“That medicine boosts your circulation,” she purred, tracing a finger along his jaw, then down the broad slope of his shoulder. Her hand drifted to his chest… and stopped just shy of his navel.

A sly smile curved her lips. “It gives you a healthy flush… makes your skin warm and full of life.”

The man ,now undeniably drugged, swallowed hard.

His voice came out rough, unsteady. “And by healthy , you mean… that kind of effect as well?”

“Oh-ho-ho… smart today, aren’t you, my big black bull~?” Ah-Qing laughed softly. “So why are you still waiting?”

Yunchang stared at her for a long, charged moment before a defeated smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Then why don’t you start first… you troublesome vixen.”

In just a few heartbeats, the little fox pounced—straddling her black bull with all the cheer and confidence of a woman absolutely certain she would make him bow beneath her feet. A soft, mischievous giggle escaped her victorious, pleased, utterly delighted with her win. The poor black bull, sprawled on his back in what was supposedly unwillingness (though in truth, he wasn’t resisting at all), could only wipe the sweat beading along his forehead and neck.

His vision blurred , filled only with the shape of the woman above him, her figure full and lush, so unlike the slender willow-waisted beauties of Han fashion.

“You… you toy with my heart far too much…!”

Guan Yunchang groaned, voice rough and low , yet still refusing to moan or cry out, even now.

Silent to the very end, that man.

“Mmh… but I won’t kill you, right~?” Ah-Qing leaned down, brushing a kiss onto his burning cheek.

He lifted his eyes to her, breath unsteady, then slid his hands firmly to her rounded hips.

“Then let’s see… between you and me…” His voice dropped into a deep, dangerous murmur. “…which one of us dies first.”

After that, the little fox princess continued to play with her warrior bull, delighting in every moment—until her own body grew too sensitive, too weak, her earlier pride dissolving like water.

Soon she was curled against his solid chest, trembling, sobbing softly from the overwhelming rush running through her.

“Guan-ge… It feels too good~!”

“My dearest , you don’t have to tire yourself at all.” His whisper brushed her ear, sending a shiver through her.

Then she felt it—his hands tightening around her hips.

“Guan-ge…?”

“Just lie down… relax.” No…There was nothing relaxing about any of this for her right now.

FWIP—!

“Aahhh!”

Ah-Qing cried out the instant her body was flipped, leaving her on her back this time. Her little heart pounded so wildly it felt ready to burst from her chest and tumble onto the floor.

When she opened her eyes and met the gaze of the man towering over her, she immediately looked away, squeezing her eyes shut.

“The joy you feel…” His voice lowered, velvet-soft and dangerous. “…I’ll take responsibility for all of it.”

No one knew how much time had passed. What was certain was this: by the time dusk deepened into yōu hour (around 5–7 PM), just before slipping into early xu hour (roughly after 7 PM), the ever-charming Guan Ping finally returned to the inn ,dragging Zhang Fei by the armpit like a fallen rooster. (Little Xing’er, meanwhile, had already gone to sleep with his nanny, Ah-Mu.)

“Uuugh— just… take me backkkkkkkk!”

“No, sir! Mama said if you drink, you must eat pickled cabbage first so you sober up and let your liver and spleen rest properly!” Ping’er recited with frightening clarity.

“Damn the liver, damn the spleen— you little brat… ugh… hic…”

In the end, the sweet-faced young master managed to haul his San-shu safely into his room. But since he wasn’t sleepy yet, the boy began wandering along the upstairs corridor, watching the warm glow of lanterns sway in the evening breeze and listening to the faint notes of music drifting from afar.

Soon enough, Ping’er thought he might stay with Yide tonight ,just like their first night upon arriving in Xuchang.

As he walked, he pondered tomorrow’s breakfast: Should he eat the inn’s rice porridge? Or the Hu-bing flatbread his mother had packed for him?

Then his thoughts wandered further—where should he explore next? What streets, what stalls, what sights?

A boy on the cusp of manhood, dreaming in small but earnest ways ,completely unaware of the fiery chaos happening two rooms down the hall.

“Ah… Guan-ge! Don’t bully me!”

Ping’er froze. His head snapped toward the door he knew belonged to his parents’ room.

‘I must’ve misheard…’ he told himself, shaking his head vigorously before walking away…Only to be interrupted again.

“Just kill me! Make me die from a heart attack~! I can’t take it anymore!”

Ping’er inhaled slowly… very slowly…He stepped toward the door, placing his ear gently against the wood.

Oh, Ping’er…

Oh, poor sweet child…

Your innocence is about to shatter into dust tonight.

“Guan-geeeeeeee! I can’t— I can’t take it anymore~!” His mother’s voice half-sobbed, half-giggled.

“So you’re saying you’re close to the Land of Celestials, hm?” His father’s voice was low, but clearly audible…filled with things that Little General would never have imagined his father would ever say ,not in broad daylight, and certainly not at bedtime.

“Mmh—! Yes!”

“Good girl… hold on to me…”

By the time his mind caught up, little General Guan Ping had already collapsed onto the floor in front of that door.

His arms hung uselessly at his sides.

His big round eyes were wide open—yet utterly drained of their usual sparkle.

‘Father… and Mama… are…???’

‘So when Mama said that people who love each other very much sleep hugging each other before putting a baby in the oven… was THIS what she meant…?’

“Mama… Mama lied to Ah-Ping…” He whispered, tears spilling down his flushed cheeks ,his purity cracking like a porcelain bowl dropped onto stone.

When he finally managed to stand, Ping’er tiptoed away. The moment he slipped into San-shu’s room, he dove onto the sleeping mat and yanked a blanket over his head.

‘Sleep. Sleep, damn it. SLEEP! Right now!’

He ordered himself.

Of course…There was absolutely no way that boy would fall asleep easily tonight.

Not after hearing that...Not when just the voices alone were enough to make the newly pubescent Ping’er feel hot all over ,even though he had seen plenty of pretty girls before.

Poor child…and oh so adorable.

The grand audience hall of the imperial palace—vast, solemn, and dignified ,was magnificent yet marked by a simplicity that carried depth and quiet grace. It reflected the very spirit of the Han court: poised, composed, orderly, stately.

This was the place where the Son of Heaven held council, where affairs of the realm were discussed with ministers and officials of every rank.

In those days, the court was divided into two principal branches: civil and military. Their attire alone told them apart.

Civil officials wore robes of black or deep, dark hues, completed with the black jianse hats.

Military officials, in contrast, were clad in shades of red, donning guan helmets adorned with feathers that flared out from either side.

And upon the imperial throne, positioned where all eyes naturally fell, sat a single figure.

He was robed in black garments embroidered with the sun, the moon, constellations, mountains, dragons, the great bird Peng, and other auspicious motifs. A crown hung with pearl strings rested upon his head.

Judging from his youthful face and manner, he had only recently stepped into full adulthood.

This figure could be none other than— Emperor Xian of Han, the fourteenth sovereign of the dynasty, the living master of all under Heaven.

If my estimation is correct—that Guan Ping was born in the fifth year of the Guanghe era (AD 182) then it follows that His Majesty, who was born the previous year (the fourth year of Guanghe, AD 181), is older than the boy born to a father fated to become a great general by roughly one year.

To put it plainly: the Emperor and the young master Ping are, in truth, boys of nearly the same age ,two youths living in the same era, though their fates lie worlds apart.

Since we have reached this point…I suppose I must now recount the royal biography of His Majesty from the day of his birth up to the present time within our story. So that all of you may understand the full breadth of his background with clarity.

Emperor Xian of Han , whose personal name was Liu Xie (劉協) – known to many as Prince Xie ,was born in the fourth year of the Guanghe era. He was the son of Emperor Ling of Han and Consort Wang, the Beautiful One (王美人).

Before him, Emperor Ling had another son: Prince Bian, born of Empress He.

Empress He detested Lady Wang with all her heart. She believed herself the greater beauty, and she prided herself on having given the Han throne its first heir.

Because of this arrogance, she schemed against Lady Wang again and again—relentlessly.

As a result, Lady Wang became anxious, fearful, and frail of mind…Some say she grew so terrified that she no longer wished to conceive at all, frightened that any child she bore would be targeted and harmed.

Yet, as the karma of living beings spins onward, she conceived regardless.

Rumor whispered that Lady Wang, in utter terror of Empress He, attempted to take abortifacient medicine to end the pregnancy.

But whether by the invisible strength of past merit or the workings of Heaven itself— the child destined to become the fourteenth Son of Heaven did not perish.

He survived the poison meant to drive him from the womb, and was born alive, healthy, whole, a miracle in the shadowed palace.

Not long afterward, Consort Wang, was poisoned and met an untimely death.

(Whispers in the court claimed it was the doing, or at least the command, of Empress He.)

Because of this, Grand Empress Dowager Dong (董太后)—the mother of Emperor Ling and thus grandmother to both princes ,took the orphaned child into her own care.

And so the little prince grew safely in his grandmother’s embrace, sheltered at least in name—from the unpredictable chaos that roiled behind palace walls.

When Prince Xie reached the age of nine, in the sixth year of the Zhongping era (AD 189), Emperor Ling, his father, passed away after a long illness. Since the Emperor had never clearly appointed an heir, the throne fell by default to Prince Bian, the elder half-brother , then thirteen or fourteen years old.

But matters did not end there. Grand Empress Dowager Dong and Empress He loathed one another. 

The former scorned the He siblings : General He Jin and Empress He ,as nothing more than children of a butcher who had risen far beyond their station.

The latter sneered in return that if the previous emperor had chosen someone else to inherit the throne, Lady Dong would never have climbed so high as to become the Grand Empress Dowager.

Thus, a world ruled by women began to split into factions— power cleaving down the middle like a blade slicing through silk.

And from that moment on, the life of the young prince was like a sapling thrown into a storm ,forced to weather winds, rains, and merciless seasons one after another…

He would never again know anything resembling true, lasting peace.

Grand Empress Dowager Dong, together with the eunuch Jian Shuo (蹇碩), appointed Prince Xie as the Prince of Chenliu (陳留王).

But not long after, the young prince lost the grandmother he loved most. The official report claimed she passed away due to illness and advanced age.

Yet the whispers throughout the palace insisted otherwise—that she had been poisoned by He Jin, after he and Empress He conspired to strip her of her title and exile her back to her homeland.

Then came the day when the Ten Eunuchs assassinated He Jin ,slaughtering him, severing his head, and tossing it beyond the inner palace walls.

That act became the spark that set off an explosion. In a frenzy of vengeance, the forces of Yuan Shao and Cao Cao stormed the palace, intent on purging the eunuchs.

But in the memory of young Prince Xie, what stood out was this: He was shaken awake in the dead of night ,as was his elder brother, then enthroned as Emperor Shao of Han 

The remaining eunuchs seized the princes, spiriting them out of the palace with claims that they were “fleeing from rebel Yuan Shao.” In truth, they meant to take both imperial children hostage.

Before long, however, the fugitives were hunted down. The surviving eunuchs, cornered and desperate, either took their own lives to escape execution or were struck down by the soldiers pursuing them.

Only after this grim chase were the two young princes finally rescued and escorted back to Luoyang.

The reign of Emperor Shao of Han, the elder brother, was exceedingly brief. Once Dong Zhuo entered the capital of Luoyang, he immediately deposed Emperor Shao and elevated the Prince of Chenliu to become the next Son of Heaven.

And every time the young emperor asked, “Where has my elder brother gone?” there was never a real answer.

At best, the palace attendants murmured vague replies like, “His Majesty has… gone elsewhere.”

But the truth was far crueler…Prince Bian and his mother ,Empress He, had already been assassinated in secret by Dong Zhuo’s men!

“Your Majesty… Your Majesty…” A deep, velvety voice pulled the eighteen-year-old sovereign out of the memories that had swallowed him whole.

He turned and saw the man who had spoken.

“Ah… Chancellor.”

“Is Your Majesty in good health?” Cao Mengde asked gently. “Has the wind troubled Your Majesty’s breath?”

“It’s nothing. We were simply… thinking of the past.”

“The rebels are long dead, Your Majesty,” the Chancellor whispered.

And within the shadowed hush where no eyes could see, Mengde’s pale, slender hand came to rest on the emperor’s shoulder—pressing down just slightly…Even that was enough to make Emperor Xian swallow hard, eyes flashing with a faint, instinctive fear.

“As long as Your Majesty has me…” Mengde murmured, voice soft as silk and just as chilling, “No one…No one will ever take Your Majesty away from me, nor from the realm of Han.”

The Emperor gave no reply.

He could not ,not when he himself did not know how to respond to this man.

This man is at once his benefactor in times of peril…the steward who oversaw all affairs of state…and the true holder of power over the empire.

Leaving the emperor himself a ruler only in name ,a sovereign in title, but little more than a figurehead in truth.

His Majesty let his gaze drift across the grand hall, scanning the rows of ministers—military and civil alike. One by one, one face after another, he searched them as though he were desperately seeking something…Something sturdier to cling to than the thorny branch currently lodged in his heart.

And then… he found such a person.
A man in dark robes and the black jianse cap of a civil official. A man whose ears were slightly larger than most, whose skin was pale like carved jade, and whose expression seemed untouched by worry—yet carried the quiet composure of one older and steadier.

“Chancellor… summon him,” His Majesty murmured. “Tell him… We wish to see his face clearly.”

Chapter Text

Soft morning light spilled across the grassy courtyard of the inn, gilding every dew-kissed blade in a glow so gentle it felt like a hymn. The air held the faint scent of last night’s mist mingling with aromas of breakfast simmering from the kitchen, while guests chatted cheerfully all around , life in motion, bright and bustling.

“Is it true, Liu-ge? Is His Majesty truly that handsome?”

Lady Hu ,who had not been able to witness the Son of Heaven with her own eyes ,asked with earnest curiosity. She had her hands full tending the children, the family belongings, and the entire entourage settled at the inn. 

Meanwhile, the Peach Garden brothers had all been granted the privilege of entering the palace, receiving rewards and commendations for their role in the battle against Lü Bu. For “outsiders” like her and the two little ones, the only way to know what had happened inside those gilded halls was to ask those who had been there.

Liu Xuande smiled over the rim of his tea cup.

“Skin pale and luminous like the morning sun… and though he’s only eighteen, he stands taller than me, Hu-mei.” He took a sip, then leaned back, warming to the story. “When the Chancellor ordered me to step forward, I walked straight to the throne. Ah… you’ll never guess.”

“And what could I not guess, pray tell?”

“His Majesty said—”

‘Raise your face. Let Us have a look at you.’

“I let him lift my chin, check my profile from left to right…I nearly lost my composure right then!” Xuande burst into laughter, and the whole room joined him.

Zhang Fei snorted. “You make it sound like the Emperor’s still a child!”

“He is a child, San-shu!” Guan Ping piped up while wrestling playfully with little Xing. “If you think about it, I’m only a year younger than him!”

He didn’t get to finish. A light but decisive smack landed squarely on his back. “Ow! Mama! Why’d you hit me?!”

Lady Hu glared. “Stop! Who taught you to speak as if you were equal to the Emperor? The Son of Heaven is not your playmate! Mind your manners next time!”

Zhang Fei, that eternal rascal, shuffled discreetly toward Xuande and Guan Yunchang, whispering under his breath,

“Da-ge, Er-ge… I’m starting to think the strictest Han etiquettes aren’t upheld by us pure-blood Han at all.”

“Hey…don’t drag me into this…” Yunchang muttered, cheeks turning pink as he subtly checked whether his wife was listening. Xuande, meanwhile, pretended total neutrality, face unreadable.

“I heard that!” Lady Hu snapped, whipping around so fast the three men jumped like startled kittens.

“Uh… By the way…” Ah-Xing ,six years old and already bright as a morning star ,lifted his face and asked with sparkling curiosity “And what did His Majesty say to Uncle, then?”

All the grown-ups turned to him. Ever since he started forming proper thoughts, this child had shown a mind far too sharp for his age—always questioning everyone about everything, and if the answer didn’t satisfy him, he would debate and poke and prod until someone either gave him what he wanted… or simply gave up.

Liu Xuande smiled gently and began to unravel the memory.

“His Majesty asked, ‘You bear the surname Liu—then you must be connected to Our dynasty, are you not?’ I answered, ‘There are many with the Liu surname under Heaven, Your Majesty need not trouble Yourself with that.’ But when he pressed further and further… Well, in the end I had to tell him the story of Prince of Zhongshan.”

Ah-Xing’s little phoenix-like eyes—so like his father’s ,lit up with admiration and excitement. His older brother’s wide eyes glowed just the same.

“His Majesty then ordered the archivist to bring in the imperial genealogy,” Xuande continued. “Name by name, the court scribe recited the entire ancestral line…”

At that point, the room fell quiet. Everyone leaned closer instinctively, like children listening to an elder tell an old tale around the fire.

[孝景皇帝生十四子

第七子乃中山靖王刘胜

胜生陆城亭侯刘贞

贞生沛侯刘昂

昂生漳侯刘禄

禄生沂水侯刘恋

恋生钦阳侯刘英

英生安国侯刘建

建生广陵侯刘哀

哀生胶水侯刘宪

宪生祖邑侯刘舒

舒生祁阳侯刘谊

谊生原泽侯刘必

必生颍川侯刘达

达生丰灵侯刘不疑

不疑生济川侯刘惠

惠生东郡范令刘雄

雄生刘弘。弘不仕

刘备乃刘弘之子也]

‘Emperor Xiaojing had fourteen sons.

His seventh son was Liu Sheng, Prince Jing of Zhongshan.

Liu Sheng begot Liu Zhen, Marquis of Lucheng Pavilion.

Liu Zhen begot Liu Ang, Marquis of Pei.

Liu Ang begot Liu Lu, Marquis of Zhang.

Liu Lu begot Liu Lian, Marquis of Yishui.

Liu Lian begot Liu Ying, Marquis of Qinyang.

Liu Ying begot Liu Jian, Marquis of Anguo.

Liu Jian begot Liu Ai, Marquis of Guangling.

Liu Ai begot Liu Xian, Marquis of Jiaoshui.

Liu Xian begot Liu Shu, Marquis of Zuyi.

Liu Shu begot Liu Yi, Marquis of Qiyang.

Liu Yi begot Liu Bi, Marquis of Yuanzé.

Liu Bi begot Liu Da, Marquis of Yingchuan.

Liu Da begot Liu Buyi, Marquis of Fengling.

Liu Buyi begot Liu Hui, Marquis of Jichuan.

Liu Hui begot Liu Xiong, magistrate of Fan in Dongjun.

Liu Xiong begot Liu Hong.
And Liu Bei ...is the son of Liu Hong.’

 

In the eyes of the thirty-eight-year-old man who had endured hardship since childhood, who had woven mats and sandals with his own hands to feed himself and his mother. He carried a lineage stretched into his bones, yet for years he could not speak of it to anyone.

I do not know whether it is truth or fiction, In truth… I have often wished to ask him myself:

‘Have you ever doubted the story of your bloodline? Whether it is real… or only a tale?’

But regardless of its truth… he had already come so far. Farther than any poor, obscure youth weaving mats could ever imagine— starting with nothing, rising among warlords who were born with more than he ever had.

“I think… Da-bo is brighter than the actual sun, brighter than the Emperor himself,” Seventeen-year-old Guan Ping blurted, boldly tossing out a remark that strictly speaking—bordered on lèse-majesté. The moment the words left his lips, he twisted away just in time to dodge his mother’s swift, disciplined smack. 

Even so, he dared not look her in the eye; he could already imagine the glare she was giving him.

“Don’t scold him too harshly, Ah-Qing,” his father intervened, sighing—a heavy sigh, weighted by days of grim duty within palace walls. “What Ping’er said… isn’t wrong.”

“The Sun without Radiance,” Zhang Fei murmured, coining an idle metaphor. His eyes drifted toward the courtyard outside , faraway and unfocused, so unlike the fierce, thunderous man he usually was.

“Radiance stolen… by someone like—” Before he finished the sentence, Xuande beckoned everyone closer, lowering his voice like a man about to reveal a secret that should never leave the room.

He whispered that name.

“Cao Cao.”

“Huh—?! Mmph!” Lady Hu nearly shrieked but found her mouth swiftly covered by her husband’s broad palm, leaving her to protest in a muffled string of noises.

“At this point… though the matter pains our hearts, I suppose I must speak of it,” said Liu Xuande, exhaling deeply as he closed his eyes.

And slowly—like peeling away bark from an ancient tree ,the testimony of the eyewitnesses, sworn brothers bound by blood and fate, began to unspool…

The matter began on the day of the imperial hunt…

The day when the breeze was soft, the sunlight warm, and the air perfectly gentle—neither hot nor cold, as if Heaven itself wished to cradle the young Emperor.

“Lord Xuande,” the Emperor asked, His voice tender as silk, His smile blooming so wide that His eyes turned into crescents of shy delight. “Have you ever hunted before?”

“Oh… this humble servant has some skill, Your Majesty,” Liu Bei answered, lowering his head with a modest laugh. “But in recent years, I have devoted myself to aiding the people. I fear my archery has grown rather rusty.”

“Is that so…? Then that’s wonderful!” His Majesty’s laugh rose soft and bright—like a child confiding in a kindly uncle. “If We are no good at shooting, then you shall have company!”

Zhang Fei elbowed Yunchang excitedly, whispering, “Er-ge, look at Him—our lord is adorable.”

“Mm. True,” Guan Yu replied, his deep voice unguarded for once.

He, the man who carried frost in his tone for almost everyone, seemed to melt—just a little , under the presence of the young Emperor.

As though the first sunlight of early summer had touched a block of ice, coaxing it into water, into warmth, into something painfully human. Yet in that same warm moment, his thoughts drifted, unbidden, to another boy: His Ping’er. His beloved son of seventeen…only a few springs shy of the Emperor.

‘His Majesty laughs and teases Da-ge…as though this is the first time he has ever done such a thing.’ The realization lodged itself in Guan Yu’s heart like a dull blade.
A question he had no right to ask, yet could not silence: ‘Your Majesty…have you ever known true happiness at all?’

“Your Majesty…”

A voice cut through the moment ,sharp as an arrow, clean and merciless, piercing straight into the hearts of everyone present.

Even the eighteen-year-old Son of Heaven stiffened…and swallowed hard.

“It is time, Your Majesty,” Cao Mengde said, tone smooth as a blade dipped in cold water. In a subtle motion few would notice, he reached out ,took hold of that trembling hand and gently led the Emperor away from the hunting pavilion.

It was a scene so bitterly absurd that one could cry or laugh. For Mengde was noticeably shorter than the Son of Heaven, more compact in build, his form almost graceful compared to the Emperor’s honest, youthful masculinity.

Tell me, dear listeners…was this not the very image of a lion frightened of a jackal?

As the company mounted their horses to follow the imperial entourage,none of them knew that the blood in Guan Yu’s veins was boiling, roaring like oil set upon a raging flame.

He burned with anger, for Cao Cao dared posture as an equal to the Emperor, even if many might mistake his gestures as concern for the young sovereign’s health from the strong mountain wind.

And he burned with sorrow ,because in that pale, trembling face of the Emperor,he saw the face of a boy he loved more than life…

His Ping’er, the firstborn he cherished the most.

‘If my son were to grow up motherless… if the grandmother who raised him as her own were taken from him…if chaos clawed at him from childhood as it did at His Majesty…what would become of him?’

He breathed deeply,willing the fury down, burying the ache in his chest, forcing his thoughts not to wander further ,for he feared where they might lead.

In the once-quiet clearing of the forest, silence shattered ,splintered by the shouts of the gamekeepers driving animals forward, by the barking of hounds, by the hiss of arrows slicing the air and finding their mark in trembling creatures herded toward death.

“There! You hit the musk deer!” Zhang Fei clapped loudly, laughing with unrestrained delight. “Da-ge, you’re amazing! Haven’t lost your touch at all!”

Liu Bei, ever the master of humble optics, answered lightly ,almost too lightly— as if trying not to draw the attention of a certain someone. “Oh, you silly oaf… Heaven merely favored me this once.”

Just then ,a magnificent stag burst out from the thicket, its antlers catching the sunlight, its movement so sudden that officials and soldiers nearly raised their bows in reflex.

“HALT!”

The Chancellor’s command cracked across the clearing like thunder. “This stag must be shot by the Son of Heaven first! Anyone who dares release an arrow before His Majesty will face punishment!”

He said this, then turned toward Emperor Xian and the young ruler dipped his head, newfound confidence gleaming in His eyes like the first spark on dry tinder.

His Majesty raised the imperial bow. He drew the string—steady, determined and released.

But…Perhaps it was His youth.

Perhaps trembling hope...Perhaps the weight of eyes watching His every movement.

Whatever the reason ,the arrow flew wide.

And then another.

And another.

Miss after miss, each one landing like an invisible bruise upon the hearts of those who watched.

"Chancellor…”

The young monarch cast a nervous glance at Cao Cao. “We order you to shoot it. Now.”

Cao Cao said nothing. He stood still as stone , as though the imperial command were nothing more than wind brushing past his ear.

“Did you not hear Us? We ORDER you to shoot that stag!”

Again, no response.

“Chancellor Cao! Shoot the stag for Us—NOW!”

That final shout ,that last fragile cry of authority ,was the moment the small-built statesman finally turned His head toward the Son of Heaven. He extended a hand and in a heartbeat… the imperial bow ,engraved with curling dragons was placed into those waiting palms.

With a single shot—one effortless, practiced shot ,the man called Cao Cao sent the stag crashing to the ground, its life snuffed out before anyone could draw a breath.

But alas…those who could not see clearly, or those who had not seen at all ,lifted their voices in blind faith:

“His Majesty has struck the stag!”

“The dynasty and the realm shall prosper!”

“Long live the Emperor! Long live His Majesty! Long live the Son of Heaven!”

 

“The blood in my veins turned cold…” Liu Bei’s voice narrating from the present— began to tremble, each word shaking as though torn from his chest. 

“Because we knew…we knew…that something was terribly wrong.Cao Cao was the one who shot that stag…using His Majesty’s own bow.” Tears fell, one drop after another, darkening the fabric of his robe. “Those cheers the officials shouted…they sounded as if they were meant for the Emperor ,but they weren’t.”

“That…” Zhang Fei said as he tipped back his cup of tea, “Is the meaning of Sun Without Radiance.”

His eyes drifted into a void of thought ,far away, unfocused—a startling contrast to the fiery brute everyone knew him to be.

“Like a sun eclipsed,” he murmured. “Overwhelmed by the brilliance ,not of this world…not fire, not starlight, not the moon. Something… unnatural.”

“Well, that’s enough for me, guys.I’m going to copy some classics or write a poem to calm my nerves." With a stretch and a loud yawn, the mischievous tiger of the Peach Garden rose to his feet. "If I sit here thinking about this cursed politics any longer, I’ll lose my mind.”

The color and thunder of their trio walked out, leaving the room quieter than before and so much heavier.

Only those who remained sat sunk in a boundless sea of dread and sorrow, watching the morning sunlight outside the window grow pale and powerless.

A morning that should have been bright was reduced to a dim, aching blur for them all.

“How dare he…”

The general’s wife spoke first in a voice trembling with grief ,then it rose, sharper, rawer …a cry ripped from the chest of a woman who had finally seen too much.

“How dare he! How dare he treat His Majesty like that!”

“Mama! Mama please, calm down!” Guan Ping rushed to her side, wrapping his arms around her smaller frame, holding her tight.

“Don’t forget… Uncle Liu is no longer just a minor official.” Guan Ping said “He’s close to His Majesty ,now practically family. All of us are bound to the throne through him. But because Cao Cao—”

“So we should FEAR him?!” Ah-Qing whirled on her son, her voice cracking like a whip. The seventeen-year-old flinched ,he had never seen his mother this furious. “To hell with that wretched man! If I could—I would KILL him with my own hands!”

“What your mother says…” Yunchang finally spoke from the couch, his sigh heavy as a mountain shifting. “…is not far from the truth of my own heart.”

He closed his eyes. “That day… I wanted to spur my horse forward and cut Cao Cao down where he stood.But… your uncle signaled for me to stop.”

The memory continued—the heat of that evening,the rage so great it spilled out of him like boiling water.

“Why did you stop me, elder brother?!”

“Er-di… hush.

Someone will hear.”

“You should’ve let me kill that treacherous thief!”

“But at that moment, Cao Cao was right beside His Majesty! A single misstep could harm the Emperor Himself.”

…

“And besides ,half the court belongs to Cao Cao now…That is why I told you to tread carefully.”

Yunchang returned to the present with another long exhale...Every word his lord and sworn brother had said was true.

The civil war had ended— but peace, the real peace, was still nowhere in sight.

[日暗失餘暉，

城空無主歸。

情人誓同心，

一夕成離悲。]

“The sun is dimmed, its glow undone;

The city stands with master none.

Two hearts once vowed to beat as one

Now riven, lost; their grief begun.”

Everyone turned toward Ah-Xing, the six-year-old second son, who was quietly reciting the poem Zhang Fei had given him. The small voice that slipped from those soft lips and the look in those bright, phoenix-shaped eyes— carried a weight far too heavy for a child.

Who was it, I wonder, to claim that politics belonged only to grown men? 

Who dared insist that children could never understand the sorrows of adults?

Dear listeners…these little ones are not fools wandering blind in the world.

They see ,they feel— often more keenly than any of us.

[日昏失光彩，

天黯無華輝。

滿城同泣下，

哀聲動四圍。]

“The sun grows dim, its splendor gone;

The heavens fade, bereft of dawn.

The city weeps as one forlorn

Its grief shakes every soul ’til morn.”

Ah-Qing clapped her hands over her ears, her scream tearing through the room “No! Stop, Ah-Xing! Don’t read it! I don’t want to hear it anymore!”

“Mama… oh, Mama…” Ping’er held her tighter, his own tears finally slipping loose despite trying to be the older, braver son.

Ah-Xing set the bamboo scroll on his lap. He lifted his small face and tears spilled down those phoenix-bright eyes, rolling over red cheeks, falling onto the floor tik—tik—tik.

Then he ran ,threw himself against his father’s leg and clung with all his tiny strength.

“Father… why… why does His Majesty have to endure someone as wicked as Cao Cao?” he sobbed, rubbing his wet face into his father’s robe. “I pity him… I want to help him… but a little boy like me… I can’t do anything for the country… or for His Majesty.”

Guan Yunchang lifted his son into his arms ,holding him close, so gently it was as though the boy were made of morning mist. “My child… Uncle Liu, I, Uncle Zhang— all of us worry for His Majesty just the same.” He stroked Ah-Xing’s hair with the tenderness of a man breaking inside.

“But we cannot do much. The palace… is full of both good hearts and wicked ones.There are men like Cao Cao and men like Lord Liu. And we… we cannot know whom we may rely on.”

Ah-Xing sniffled hard and looked up again. “Then… does that mean…we can’t help at all? Then what should Ah-Xing do…?”

“Be a good child, my son.” Guan Yu smiled ,forced through the ache lodged deep in his chest and placed a hand over his son’s head. “If you grow up kind, disciplined, diligent in your studies— Avoid mischief and walk the straight road…Then one day, you may serve as a scholar or a soldier. That is how… you become one worthy of your Emperor and of this country.”

Soon enough, father, mother, and their two children drew close— pulling one another into a tight embrace, inside the quiet evening room of the inn.

Here, at least, no eyes could pry.

Here was safe enough for weary hearts to collapse into each other without fear of being seen.

And in that fragile stillness, General Guan found a single comfort— a bitter, necessary blessing , that no one knew he was not a bachelor.

No one knew he had a wife.

No one knew he had children.

For if they did ,if someone in the court ever learned the truth…the circle of danger would widen instantly should misfortune befall Xuande— his elder brother in oath, his lord before Heaven and Earth.

He and Yide would be the second to suffer.

That much he expected.

That much he accepted.

Let death come—so be it.

But the ones who would suffer next ,the ones who would be struck after the brothers— would be Xuande’s wife and child…And so his own wife and children.

That… he would never allow.

Never in this lifetime.

Never while breath remained in him.

Knock! Knock! Knock! The sound at the door snapped everyone back to reality.

Ah-Qing clutched her husband’s waist as if she already knew exactly who stood beyond that wooden frame.

Ping’er shot to his feet, reaching for his sword on the rack.

Ah-Xing’s breath trembled in shallow bursts, fear tightening his small shoulders.

Only one man— the pillar of the household, who remained unmoved.

“State your business.”

“Reporting to General Guan—Lord Liu has arrived at his residence.”

“I see.” He rose from the couch with a steadiness that masked the storm inside him. “Then it is time for me and the San-di to attend to him, as always.”

He turned toward the door.

“I understand. We will join our lord shortly. You may go.”

“Yes, sir.”

The footsteps faded. Guan Yunchang swept his gaze across his family— each pair of eyes filled with worry, love, and unspoken fear ,and then he began to issue orders. “Ah-Qing. You and the children must stay within the inn.Do not wander. If you need anything, have Ah-Mu or one of the servants fetch it for you.”

Ah-Qing collapsed to her knees and wrapped her arms around his legs, her sobs spilling out uncontrollably.“Guan-ge! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave the children! Please… please don’t go!”

He forced himself not to falter, turned toward his eldest son. “Ping’er. Your father and Uncle Zhang  have trained you in combat since you were nine…This year, you are old enough to stand on your own feet, I entrust your mother and brother to you.”

“You needn’t worry, Father.” The young man smiled with quiet, unwavering confidence. “I will protect Mother and Ah-Xing.”

As for the little one— he had been about to cling to his father’s leg as well, but after a moment’s hesitation,Ah-Xing walked to his mother instead, placing his small hands on her shaking shoulders.

And the words he spoke were ones no grown-up expected from a child so young:

“Mama, don’t cry! Father is going to Uncle and to serve the court along with him! And besides, Father is strong! No one would dare bully him!”

Merchant’s wife: “Ah… such sorrow… such heartbreaking sorrow…”

The Dancer: “I miss my father! I miss my mother! Waaaa!”

The Monk: “Amitofo…Where love dwells, grief follows. Separation is but the nature of all things…”

And there you have it, dear listeners.

This moment right here was the first omen, the earliest whisper of the second great sundering between Guan Yu and his beloved wife.

That day lay far, far ahead—far beyond reach, far beyond the horizon ,yet time…time never rests. Its footsteps march on, carving the path toward that inevitable dusk.

Now then…my dearest listeners…between you and me.

Whose heart do you think will break first?

The storyteller’s…or yours?

Chapter Text

“The Desert Princess was confined within the guest quarters, accompanied only by the White-Star Boy, the Red-Star Boy, her two sons, and a handful of attendants — while the Crimson Warrior followed the young lord and the Leopard Lord into the palace to meet the King…”

 

The soft storytelling of a late afternoon drifted through the premium upper room of an inn in Xuchang, braided with the sound of birds returning to their nests and a gentle breeze brushing past the windows.

“Mama…” Ah-Xing, resting his head on his mother’s lap, murmured, “Ah-Xing misses Father.”

Hu Qingyue paused the story. She brushed her fingers through her second son’s hair and replied, calm and warm,

“Mama misses him too, my love.”

As for the eldest, Guan Ping had stepped out onto the walkway balcony. He gripped the wooden rail, staring far beyond the inn’s boundaries , past the toy-small houses and ant-like crowds below, all the way to the looming palace walls that guarded the dwelling of the Son of Heaven, lord of sky, earth, and sea.

“Haaah…” The young man let out a sigh, venting the weight in his chest — part worry for his father who had followed Uncle into the palace, part sorrow for the lonely young emperor… and part something else, nameless and tightly coiled inside himself.

He thought back to one particular night, when he had dreamed of meeting His Majesty somewhere that felt like the audience hall.

“You are the son of General Guan, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. My humble name is Guan Ping, the eldest son of General Guan.”

“But you don’t look like him at all…” The Emperor in his dream tilted his head thoughtfully. “Your father looks rather fierce — stern, all brooding and beard. You must take after your mother.”

Guan Ping flushed and laughed shyly. “Yes, Your Majesty… that is likely so.”

The Emperor asked again, “How old are you? You seem nearly as tall as we are.”

“Seventeen, Your Majesty. Next year, I shall be eighteen.”

“Oh! Excellent! So we’re nearly the same age!” The young emperor laughed, bright as bells, grabbed Guan Ping’s hand, and tugged him forward.

“Come. We’ll show you the inner gardens. We wish to speak with you more!”

“Ah— Your Majesty… but…” The boy stammered, only to be interrupted.

“No buts! Not for the son of an honorable man like General Guan! Come now, our friend — don’t dawdle!”

His mother always scolded him gently whenever he talked about wanting to be the Emperor’s companion — hoping, perhaps foolishly, that it might make His Majesty happier.

“You are your father’s son and mine ,that is enough. Do not dream of such things. The Son of Heaven stands far above us… he will never walk beside us.”

But seventeen-year-old Guan Ping longed to argue back, if he ever dared:

“If he’s above us… does that mean he doesn’t deserve friends?”

“Mama… has His Majesty ever felt lonely? Ever cried the way I cry when I miss Father?”

“If it’s possible… if everyone could save him from the wicked people around him… then Ah-Ping wishes His Majesty could hug me. Lean on my shoulder, even just once.”

Guan Ping carried that tangled knot of feelings in his chest for many days and nights.

Dreams came and went like passing winds — some so vivid he wished he would never wake. Sometimes, after reading a passage from the Anuuals of Spring and Autumn or an old tale his father had left for him, his mind would latch onto a stray detail and stitch it into his slumber.

“Your Majesty… please don’t do this…!” The voice of a pale-faced youth trembled in the dark. His hands flailed in sleep, body shivering like someone frightened by something half-seen.

“Why not? Didn’t you say you loved us?”

The young Emperor — only a year older than he ,moved closer in the dream, his mournful eyes at odds with the gentle, teasing smile curving his lips… as if courting an innocent maiden.

“I—I’m just the son of a soldier! Someone lowly like me isn’t worthy of Your Majesty’s attention!”

Guan Ping turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

“In that case… we shall promote Lord Xuande to Minister of the Imperial Household, and grant your father high rank along with him.”

And with that, His Majesty leaned in and pressed a soft kiss onto the fevered cheek of the general’s son ,making the boy jolt like a kitten being pounced upon.

“Aaaahhh! Y-You must not! Your Majesty, that is wholly improper! Utterly—completely—not allowed!!!”

When he finally woke, both his bedding and his quilt were damp and sticky. His heart thundered against his ribs as the dream replayed itself.

Then—

SMACK.

He slapped himself across the face, crimson to the ears.

'Heavens above, Guan Ping! You dared turn the tale of Emperor Ai cutting his sleeve for Dong Xian into a dream starring yourself and our current Emperor?!'

'And… and why is everything so sticky…?'

“Eugh!”

He clamped a hand over his mouth to stop a yelp, face blazing red as midsummer peaches. He thumped his forehead over and over with a groan that remained trapped in his skull:

'Aaaahhhh! Gods will smite me! Heaven will never forgive me!!!'

Not long afterwards, he playfully ask his mother “Mama… if Ah-Ping likes men… would Mama be angry?”

Hu Qingyue paused, thinking for a moment. Then she smiled softly, eyes warm as spring water.

“Ping’er… even after you marry and have a wife, it’s fine to have a close male friend.”

“…I see.” He lowered his head, saying nothing more.

If he dared to confess who he’d been dreaming about…he was sure Mama would smack him across the back on the spot.

And so this afternoon — late enough that the shadows had grown long ,the young man could only stare out at the world from the guesthouse balcony, melancholy weighing down his once-bright eyes.

He had already accepted that he could never love the Emperor as a “beloved companion.”
But that was no tragedy for someone like the young General Guan. For he already knew, deep down, that another kind of love existed — more enduring, more worthy, more righteous than any fanciful affection born of dreams.

It was the love of a loyal subject for his sovereign.

'Two more years and I’ll be nineteen…I think I’ll walk the path of a soldier, just like Father. To protect others with my own strength ,that would be a fine life indeed.'

“Young Master…” Ah-Mu’s voice tugged him out of his stormy thoughts. He turned quickly.

“Ah, did you call for me? What is it?”

The maid darted her eyes around the corridor, then slipped him a silk scroll and leaned in to whisper: “Please… keep this safe, Young Master. This letter is very important. You must read it only with your mother.”

“Who sent it?”

“Your father, Young Master — passed along through Lord Xuande’s people. Ah-Mu received it while out to buy supplies.”

“I see. Thank you. Go rest now.”

When Ah-Mu finally left, Guan Ping hurried inside, closed the door, and went straight to where his mother sat — gently stroking his younger brother’s head as the boy slept on the same wooden daybed as always.

He sat down beside her and held out the scroll. “Mama… open it. It’s a letter from Father.”

Hu Qingyue heard the words “from Father” and snatched the letter almost instantly, hands trembling like a flame meeting sudden wind.

To my dearest son, Guan Ping, whom your father cherishes.

Lord Xuande tells me he misses you terribly. Staying in the quarters arranged by Cao Cao, he has almost no freedom to come and go — for he cannot know for certain who may be watching.

Thus, three days from now, he will send someone to fetch you, so you may stay with us for a short while.

But you will not be coming as my son.

After some discussion, we agreed that you should disguise yourself as a servant boy.

For now, both I and your San-shu are no different from hostages under Cao Cao’s watch — just as Lord Xuande is.

I cannot risk letting anyone know who my son truly is...Forgive your father for this necessity.

My child, be ready within three days.

And I hope you will care for your uncle as well as you did when you were small.

 

May fortune walk beside you.

Guan Yunchang

 

Guan Ping rose from the daybed, eyes drifting toward the tightly closed door — as if he could see straight through it, past the wood, past the halls, past the entire city. The heart that had trembled moments ago settled into stillness, like water without a ripple.

“Tomorrow…” he said softly to his mother, “I’ll have some of the male servants guard this floor and this room. Please don’t worry, Mama.”

Hu Qingyue swallowed the ache swelling in her chest.She gazed at her precious son — admiration and pride shimmering in her eyes.

How he had grown…Yet to her, he was still the little boy who once clung to her leg and babbled sweet nonsense.

“Please don’t worry,” he continued. “Da-bo, Father, and San-shu would protect me. And besides… I’m old enough to protect myself now.”

He returned to her side and sat down.Then he wrapped his arms around her and nestled his head on her shoulder, rubbing against her affectionately without a hint of embarrassment.

“Mama… let Ah-Ping hug you and little brother a bit more.In a few days, you both will be lonely again.”

“Oh, my darling… Mama will be fine.”

“Ah-Ping only worries about you and Ah-Xing, that’s all.”

He turned to look at his little brother and smiled, tender and bright.Bending over, he pressed a soft kiss to the child’s cheek.

Memories washed over him —the first time he held his baby brother,the day Ah-Xing took his first steps and clutched his hand,the moment those tiny lips called him “gege” for the first time.

Then...warm tears slipped down his cheeks.

“Ah-Xing… don’t be naughty, alright? No...you’ve never been a naughty child anyway.” He laughed quietly, brushing the boy’s hair. Ah-Xing stirred in his sleep and made a soft, muffled sound.

That night, the young Guan Ping fell asleep with his head resting on his mother’s shoulder. His tears had not yet dried, but the faint smile on his lips was more than enough to show that happiness still lived in his small, earnest heart.

“My friend… why should you fear? You are a good man, devoted to your parents, and you love us with sincerity. Nothing shall harm you.” So said the young Emperor in his dream, smiling wide enough to reveal a glimpse of his pearly canine.

'Your Majesty… your servant understands,' he answered in his heart.

And with that understanding,Guan Ping drifted into peaceful sleep — light, unburdened, and utterly without fear.

Life as a servant boy turned out to be far less difficult than Guan Ping had imagined.

No — at this moment, he was not Guan Ping, son of General Guan Yu...He was now Men An (門安), a lowly servant boy living in Lord Xuande’s guest quarters.

And “Men An” had been given quite the pitiable backstory: a total orphan, parents dead and gone, rescued out of sympathy by Lord Xuande, who took him in and raised him.

Men An, or as everyone fondly called him, An-An, began each day by drawing water to fill the jars used for drinking.Once that was done, he swept every corridor and cleaned every corner until everything gleamed.

Afterward, if it was his assigned rotation, he tended the vegetable garden behind the residence — the one tended by Lord Xuande himself.

But sometimes… Ah, sometimes he asked his Uncle and his father for permission to do something a little more “creative,” “experimental,” or simply “fun.”

And though the adults would sigh and shake their heads at his strange ideas, they always said yes — loving him far too much to deny him anything serious.

One of those “creative projects” was his second identity:Men Ji-Ya (門寄雅), his frail twin sister who supposedly worked exclusively in the kitchen.

Ji-Ya — or “Ah-Ya,” as she was called — was always peeking out from corners to see who had come visiting. Once she identified the guest, she would run around asking the servants what Lord Xuande was doing or where he currently was…

Then she would announce the visitor’s name to him with dutiful seriousness.

And worry not — although Guan Ping had long passed the voice-cracking threshold of growing into a young man, his voice had not yet settled into the deep, resonant rumble of his father.

Thus… he could still pitch his voice high and sweet enough to pass as a girl without fear of being found out.

It was an ordinary night.

The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon, leaving behind a sky of deep velvet stitched with shimmering stars.Crickets and night insects sang their evening chorus, coaxing the world toward sleep.

Ji-Ya, the dainty young “maiden,” was strolling idly by herself when a sudden knock rattled the front gate.

“Lord Xuande! Lord Xuande, are you within?!”

“Who calls upon the household at this hour, good sir?” Guan Ping — perfectly in character as Ji-Ya, shouted back, his voice pitched light and clear, betraying none of his actual masculinity.

“I am Dong Cheng! A civil official! I come seeking an urgent audience with Lord Liu Bei!”

Seeing no servants around and confirming the area was empty, Guan Ping instantly dropped his feminine act and barked out in his natural, boyish voice “Please wait! I shall inform my master at once!”

“Very well! Hurry, lad!”

He sprinted straight to the room where the Peach Garden Brothers were staying. Still dressed in women’s clothes, he burst in “Uncle! Someone named Dong Cheng wishes to see you!”

Liu Xuande stood at once, eyes narrowing with calculation.

“My dear boy, quickly change back into Men An… then come greet Master Dong with me.”

Before long, the high-ranking official Dong Cheng was received with full courtesy. Guan Ping — now in his role as An-An, dutifully poured wine, set down side dishes, and served with flawless precision. When his part was done, his father gave him a soft wave of the hand, signaling him to leave.

Of course, Guan Ping did not go back to the servants’ quarters.He merely… retreated to the wall outside, quietly pressing his back to the cold surface and listening in.

“Master Dong,” Liu Xuande began politely, “thank you for visiting, though coming at such a late hour… I fear it troubles my humble household.”

“To visit you under broad daylight would rouse Cao Cao’s suspicion!” Dong Cheng snapped, then lowered his voice. “I came to ask you… Your brother Guan Yu — he intended to kill Cao Cao that day, didn’t he?”

Silence crashed into the room.

Even Guan Ping, eavesdropping in the shadows, felt his breath hitch. His father had told him of the incident already — but how could this stranger know?

“What do you mean? At the hunting park, none of us did any such thing.” Liu Xuande tried to deflect, though unease shadowed his tone.

“Others may not have seen…” Dong Cheng gritted out, “but I did!”

He turned — just as Guan Yu stepped forward to offer him a cup of wine. Instead of taking it, Dong Cheng seized Guan Yu’s hand, his voice breaking as he trembled and sobbed.

“Lord Xuande! Tell me the truth! Was it real?!”

“It is the truth…” Xuande sighed.

“On the day His Majesty rode out to hunt, my brother saw Cao Cao behaving like a false sovereign. He grew furious — nearly charged forth to strike him down then and there. I stopped him… for I feared it would offend the Emperor and doom us all.”

Hearing this, Dong Cheng broke into harsher sobs.
“If all officials bore the righteous fury your brother holds… His Majesty would never weep alone as he does now!”

Guan Ping’s heart slammed against his ribs.

The Emperor — lonely?

The Emperor… crying?

His body shook. Tears welled, but he forced himself not to make a sound, holding his breath as he listened.

“Master Dong,” Liu Xuande said with solemn courtesy, “the realm prospers because of the Chancellor. Why do you speak such things? It is improper.”

Everyone present, even Zhang Fei — nearly choked...Those words were not something Liu Xuande would ever say without reason.

“Da-ge—!” Zhang Fei almost barked in protest, but Guan Yu gripped his arm, stopping him.

He understood.This was a test — a trap laid in silk.

“What is this?” Dong Cheng exclaimed. “You praise that treacherous bandit? Are you testing me, Xuande?! If this is not a trial of loyalty, then I have misjudged you entirely!”

Xuande raised a calming hand.
“Do not fret, Master Dong.Indeed… what I spoke was a test. Forgive me.We too must tread with caution.”

Court Official : “And then what happened next?! Dong Cheng brought the Emperor’s blood-written edict for Liu Bei to see, didn’t he?!”

Official's Wife: “Yes! Yes! I remember that part!”

Meow~

Sweet heavens… do you truly think such a letter ever existed?

Sorry to disappoint — but this black cat knew from the very beginning that the legendary blood-written imperial decree was nothing more than a later invention, fabricated to heighten the tragic flavor of the tale.

• First point: If one were to write an entire letter with blood, a mere prick of the hand would never suffice.You’d need a lot more blood…And needless to say, Emperor Xian would not have done something so extreme.
• Second point: Even the historical records say nothing, absolutely nothing — about His Majesty writing that secret decree in blood.

Thus,I, the humble narrator, shall not recount such a tale.And I reasonably assume the secret imperial order was written normally, with ink like any sensible document.

To those who expected me to include that tragic embellishment…

I offer my sincerest apologies.

That night, Guan Ping did not return to sleep in the servants’ quarters.Instead, his father told him to sleep with him — along with his two sworn uncles.

The moment he stepped into the room, he threw himself into his father’s arms and burst into tears, collapsing to his knees as if his bones had turned to water.

“My son…" Guan Yu stroked his back to soothe him. He didn’t ask a single question — just the sight of his child crying was enough to make his own heart shatter.

“Oho! Must be that he missed Second Brother, that’s all!” Zhang Fei blurted.“Oi, kiddo! You’re a young man now! Crying and clinging to your dad like a child—!”

Liu Bei, who sat nearby, immediately snapped, “San-di!!!”

“It’s true I miss Father,” Guan Ping managed as he wiped his tears, still hiccupping, “But… that’s not why I’m crying.”

The three men of the Peach Garden exchanged puzzled looks.

Then Guan Yu turned back toward his son and asked gently, “Then why are you crying, child?”

“I… I heard everything in that secret decree, Father. About how Cao Cao acts like a self-made sovereign…how so many officials stand with him…how he never shows respect to His Majesty…When I heard it, I just…”

He couldn’t continue , then broke down again, sobbing uncontrollably.

The grown men in the room fell utterly silent. None of them had expected this — that the youth who would become a man in two years’ time, the boy still in the beautiful springtime of life,bright and playful and full of innocent joy…could feel so deeply, could carry sorrow like this, and cry for the suffering of his Emperor.

Guan Yu pulled his son into an even tighter embrace — though he softened the strength of his arms, afraid of smothering him.
For a moment, he felt warm, wet drops soaking through the cloth at his shoulder.

“My good boy…my beloved child…” he whispered. “Thank you… for growing into the good son I once prayed you’d become.”

The young man lifted his face, eyes questioning what his father meant.So Guan Yu explained, voice low and steady:

“You wouldn’t remember. You were only a month old. Back then, I had nothing to give you...All I could do was wish ,from the bottom of my heart, that you would grow up to be a good man.”

Guan Ping buried his face against his father’s chest again.

And then… a word slipped out — a word he had never spoken in all his years living under his father’s roof.

“Baba…”

“You… what did you call me?”

The youth looked up again, still clutching his father’s sleeves as though he would never let go.

“Baba…It isn’t because of your blessing.Ah-Ping grew up good because Mama and Baba raised me that way.”

Guan Yu had never expected ,not even once,  that his son would call him Baba, or even Father in any intimate sense.
For so long, the word “Father” had been formal, respectful, distant — like a thin wall placed between them, widening year by year.

A wall built by circumstance, by war, by the unrelenting march of duty.

A wall built by the reality that he was not just a father.

He was a general...A man whose very title demanded distance even from his own blood.

And yet…perhaps a man like Guan Yu simply longed — quietly, painfully — for an ordinary life.
A life where he did not have to be “exceptional,” where he did not have to stand above others, where he could just be a father holding his son while the night wrapped softly around them.

“Damn it! Why am I crying too?!” Zhang Fei blurted, voice cracking as he hastily wiped his face.

“It means you’re still human…” Liu Bei said gently, handing him a cloth to dry his tears.

Guan Ping had stopped crying, though his voice was still soft when he asked: “Baba… the reason you were angry at Cao Cao that day — for acting equal to His Majesty, was it because you thought of me?”

“How did you know that?” Guan Yu brushed his son’s hair, gentle as ever, a faint smile blooming on his lips.

“It’s nothing complicated…” the boy answered honestly. “His Majesty is eighteen. Ah-Ping is seventeen...You could never bear to see any child unhappy, could you?”

“You’re right.That day… I kept thinking of you.” Guan Yu let out a quiet sigh, then finally confessed what he had been feeling. “I know I shouldn’t have felt that kind of tenderness for His Majesty — not the same way I feel for you , but I couldn’t help it.Every time I saw him unhappy, my mind would turn back to you.”

He sighed “If it were you standing there, miserable and powerless…your mother and I would be heartbroken beyond measure.”

That night, for the first time, Guan Yu — who had always believed that a name was merely a name — slowly came to understand why a name could “shape” a person’s fate.

He looked at his son, dozing lightly beside the bed, and couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips…for he recalled the meaning of the boy’s name: “Peace.” (Ping, 平)

All his life, Guan Ping had been a small, steady source of happiness for everyone around him.

Never once had he made anyone unhappy. And his thoughts , the way of seeing the world — were so full of compassion, so gentle and vast, that even an adult like Guan Yu could hardly fathom it.

Now… this young man pitied even the Emperor.
The Emperor — a person who should never have had such a tragic fate.
Someone too high to be loved, too distant to be held.

Yet Guan Ping had voiced his heart openly, with no hesitation, no veil...He pitied a man whom the world believed untouchable.

As for Guan Ping, he didn’t tell his father about the dreams he’d been having.

Such things, he kept as carefully guarded secrets — just like the secret edict and the list of conspirators that Uncle Liu had warned them never to speak of.

Perhaps… when the time felt right, the young man would gather the courage to confess everything to his father.

But for now, he simply wanted to sleep — to drift back into the dreams where he could meet the young Emperor once more.
Even if he could never meet His Majesty in the palace in this lifetime…just seeing him in dreams was enough to fill his heart with happiness.

“My friend,” the Emperor said to him in that dreamscape, “Teach Us swordsmanship and archery again, will you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

And with that promise, the boy slipped back into peaceful slumber, dreaming softly of a world where he and the lonely Emperor could walk side by side.

Chapter Text

 

“Is this your younger brother?”

The voice was deep, mellow, and touched with a sweetness that did not quite belong to waking life. Guan Ping knew at once that this must be another dream ...yet this time, Ah-Xing, his little brother, stood beside him within it.

“Yes, Your Majesty. This is Guan Xing, my younger brother...Ah-Xing, quickly,pay your respects.”

The six-year-old boy pressed his palms together and bowed.
“Greeting! Your Majesty.”

Emperor Xian stepped close, lifting the child’s chin with a gentle hand. A faint smile—half wistfulness, half genuine delight ,touched His lips.

“How amusing… the elder one has his mother’s face, but the little one ,he looks just like your father. Guan Ping, look at him—those fierce little eyes… just like the great General’s, no?”

“I… I don’t look fierce like Father…” Ah-Xing mumbled, wounded.

“We never said your father or you are fierce,” the young Emperor chuckled softly, brushing Ah-Xing’s hair. “You’re his child. You should know better than anyone how gentle he is.”

“Yes, Your Majesty! Father is VERY gentle! Super gentle!” Ah-Xing chimed in, full of childish pride, even as his brother tugged at his sleeve in warning.
“He looks scary and serious, but he’s actually really soft and really cute.When he comes home he hugs Mama, and hugs Ping-ge, and he hugs me too!”

“Is that so… how enviable.” The Emperor rose, gaze drifting upward toward the vast dark sky ,the moon a solitary silver lantern in a realm of quiet.

“I lost my mother when I was very young. And when I turned nine… the previous Emperor ,my father—passed away as well. My grandmother was taken away to another quarter and I never saw her again. Since then… I have always lived like this.”

He turned back to the two brothers and forced a small smile ,the kind worn by someone who has learned to hide sorrow because no one ever asked to hear it.

“Forgive us. We’ve spoken far too freely.”

Guan Ping stared at his sovereign for a moment, at a boy crowned too early, and robbed of the right to weep.

Then he spoke quietly:

“Your Majesty… none of Your words were idle, if You feel something, please allow Yourself to say it. We will never speak of it to anyone else.”

“We envy you...We know We shouldn’t…” The young Emperor exhaled, soft and fragile.

“But if We could choose between being an Emperor and an ordinary boy…Then perhaps… We would choose a life with a father, a mother and someone who loves me simply for being myself.”

 

When the brothers awoke in their small bedchamber ,the one shared with their nanny— Guan Ping immediately took Ah-Xing’s hand and whispered.

“Ah-Xing. Listen to me...We keep this dream between just the two of us. Only us.”

“Why though…?” Ah-Xing protested softly. “I don’t think there was anything bad in the dream at all.”

Guan Ping shook his head gravely.

“Have you forgotten? Mother swatted me and scolded me for half an hour just because I said His Majesty and I were close in age.”

Ah-Xing nodded quickly.

He knew well, Mama wasn’t frightening because she punished them.

She was frightening because of her… lectures...The endless, winding ones.

“And besides… Uncle is practically under Cao Cao’s power because of his royal blood...Since we serve Uncle, we need to be even more careful, so we don’t tell anyone. Understand?”

“Yes, Ping-ge… I understand now.”

For several days now, whenever either Guan Yu or Zhang Fei found a spare moment, they would sneak away to visit Lady Hu and the two boys—who had been cooped up in the inn for nearly a month.

Thanks to that, there were days when the children didn’t feel so lonely.

“Ah-Qing, put on something warm. Winter’s nearly here—you’ll catch a cold.”

The General tugged a cloth over her shoulders, while Lady Hu gazed down at their sons playing in the little patch of grass below the inn’s terrace.

Her mind drifted back to the day her husband brought the boys home from staying at Lord Liu’s guest quarters.

She had been puzzled—why had Ping’er called him Baba, so casually, instead of the usual Father? Her first instinct was irritation. A son of a general should not be so careless in decorum, she had thought, ready to scold, but Guan Yu stopped her.

“Let him call me that, as long as he loves me and knows that I am his father… that is enough.”

Now, in the present, Lady Hu breathed a long sigh. “I truly… am a mother who doesn’t understand her own children at all.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I grew up freely. My father let me do anything. Indulged me in everything…” She traced the path of her own life before whispering about the child she adored. “But once I became the wife of a general and mother of his heirs ,I …teach him all the things I thought would make him well-mannered, beloved by elders…"

"And I forgot he is still a child...a child who wants to cling, fuss, or tuck himself into his parents’ arms when he’s feeling small.”

Yunchang took her hand gently. “No… you were only doing your duty. You love him so dearly you simply didn’t want him to be disliked.”

“When you told me he cried because he pitied His Majesty… my heart nearly stopped. All this time, when I scolded him for being fanciful, for speaking of the Emperor as though he were an equal…" Lady Hu covered her mouth as her tears spilled freely, trembling.

"I only saw the etiquette a boy should have when speaking of palace affairs...I never once looked deeper into his feelings , I never realized there was something more tender than mere ‘loyalty’ inside him.”

Guan Yu pulled her into an embrace, stroking her hair with a gentleness that belied his fearsome reputation.

“Ping’er is a good boy…He has never wished harm on anyone. Not even on an animal.”

“He’s too good… good to the point it frightens me. Good to the point I fear the world will crush him someday, tear him away from us…But at the same time… I’m relieved he’s this good.”

“And that, my dearest, is because you raised him well. You filled his life with goodness.”

“No, Guan-ge… I think he was simply born a good child...He only wished to be loved by everyone, that’s all.”

After speaking of their son for quite some time, Yunchang finally broached the true matter.

“Ah-Qing… soon, we must leave this place.”

“Leave here… you mean leave Xuchang?” Lady Hu frowned in confusion.

“Yes. A few days ago, Lord Liu was summoned by Cao Cao to drink with him at his manor.”
At that, her heart lurched ,her gaze darting left and right, and her hand tightened around her husband’s arm.

“Do you remember what I wrote in the letter? About how Lord Liu planted vegetables behind the guesthouse? It seems Cao Cao’s men saw it and reported it, so when Lord Liu came to meet him, Cao Cao made a little joke…”

‘Planning something grand, are you?’

All color drained from Lady Hu’s face—her body cold as though plunged into icy water.

“After that, Cao Cao and Lord Liu spoke of ‘heroes’ when they noticed a dragon-shaped cloud.Until finally… Cao Cao stood up, pointed at Da-ge, and said—”

‘Among all the men of wit and valor in this land…I see none but you and I.’

BOOM!!!

Guan Yu hadn’t been present at the time of the thunderclap. He and Zhang Fei had arrived afterward; everything he told his wife was what he had heard from his elder brother.

“Da-ge pretended to be startled, covering his ears like he feared the thunder...Cao Cao took it as cowardice and let it pass." He said "But even so… all of us know this place is no longer safe.”

That night, she held her husband tightly and did not let go.

Her Guan-ge slept soundly, untroubled but Hu Qingyue lay awake, eyes open, her mind a tangle of restless thoughts circling again and again.

She recalled the dream of the Peach Garden brothers— a rabbit, a bull, and a leopard.

The dream of the three beasts had not ended with Lü Bu’s downfall.

The little white rabbit was running ,running ahead of the bull, ahead of the leopard— fleeing a forest engulfed in flames, fleeing a blinding radiance that offered no safety, fleeing the Firebird.

That Firebird…

Brighter than sun or moon. A creature that looked almost celestial, as though crafted by the hands of gods— and yet twisted within, like something born of demons.

Its light did not merely shine upon an age of calamity— it carried with it a scorching, merciless blaze.

The season of pursuit had begun.

And Hu Qingyue finally understood , the world was no longer safe.

By now, the wife and children of the Guan household had already departed, beginning their journey back toward Xuzhou.

It would take perhaps ten days for them to arrive but Guan Yu was certain the road ahead would be smooth.

“Er-ge, you’re spacing out again, oh and also holding that little silk pouch with Hu-jie’s hair and Ping’er’s hair in it" the troublesome leopard, Zhang Fei, called out as he approached.

“Don’t worry so much! Their caravan is tiny. At a glance they look like simple travelers—maybe merchants at most.The officials won’t even look twice!”

“I know… but I can’t help missing them.”

Guan Yu looked down at the silk pouch in his hand once more, closed his eyes, and exhaled a quiet breath.

His thoughts wandered back to two nights ago…

“Ping’er, Xing’er—hurry and pack your clothes and belongings. You and your mother must leave Xuchang as soon as possible.”

“Baba…” Guan Ping stared up at him, confused.
Those pale little hands reached out and clutched his father’s sleeve tightly.

“Why are you saying it like that…? You sound as though something bad is going to happen.”

“Your Uncle Liu feels this place is no longer safe,” Hu Qingyue answered gently. “But right now, your uncle, your father, and your San-shu can’t leave together. So they’ll send us back to Xuzhou first.”

“That’s great!”

Ah-Xing beamed, throwing his arms up with joy—already thinking of Lady Gan and Lady Mi, who were like doting aunties to him. “Ah-Xing misses both Aunties so much! I bet they miss Ah-Xing too!”

But Guan Ping, the elder brother, suddenly flung himself into his father’s arms. His round eyes widened—tears shimmering, then spilling freely.

“Baba… do you not love Mama and us anymore? Why won’t you come with us?Did Ah-Ping do something wrong? Is that why Baba doesn’t love me now…?”

“No, my child ,oh heavens, no. Why would you think that?” Guan Yu wrapped his arms around him tightly.

“It’s because we love you. That’s why Uncle Liu and I decided to send you away first. As for us… your uncle will find a reason to report to Cao Cao that he must return to Xuzhou to keep an eye on Yuan Shu’s rebellion.”

The boy moved as if to bury himself in his father’s chest again ,but he stopped, startled by his own hesitation.

His expression trembled, confused, caught between wanting to cling and trying to be “grown.”

“Baba… Ah-Ping is a boy...Your son...A warrior’s son.Ah-Ping shouldn’t cry… shouldn’t be weak… right?”

“No, my heart. No…” Guan Yunchang wiped his eldest son’s tears with the gentlest touch he possessed.

“You are already strong.You’ve taken care of your mother and brother all this time—you’ve done your duty well...You are not weak.”

The broad-shouldered warrior could only stare up into the vast expanse of sky, tilting his face upward so that no tear would fall.

All he could do was entrust his longing to the drifting clouds and to the wind— hoping they would carry it swiftly to his wife and children, and guide them safely to their destination.

“Reporting, General! Lord Liu has been granted permission to lead his troops back to Xuzhou!” A young soldier hurried up to deliver the message.

“Good!” Zhang Fei grinned wide. “Once the men are assembled, we depart!”

Before long, Liu Bei’s forces rode out of the capital of Xuchang in great haste ,so hastily it was strange, as though they were fleeing from something unseen… something dreadful stirring beneath the surface of that era.

“Da-ge! Why are we leaving so suddenly?” Guan Yu called out as he urged his horse forward,

Zhang Fei spurring his mount close behind.

“We must get out of Xuchang ,far from here!” Liu Bei replied, not even turning his head.His eyes glimmered with a feeling that had no name.

“Gongsun Zan, my old friend, has fallen in battle against Yuan Shao…So I told Cao Cao that I must ride out to confront Yuan Shu,to avenge him!”

The wind began to howl along the road, sweeping through the fields with gathering force.
Yet far above, flocks of birds spread their wings and cut through the turbulent air without fear.

“For so long, we’ve been forced to hide—like a small dragon crouching beneath the waves,like a bird trapped in its cage, like a fish caught in the net.

But now… now is the time for the bird to break free,for the fish to slip loose from the mesh ,to reclaim freedom and cast fear aside!”

“You’re right! Then let’s ride quickly!” Zhang Fei roared with laughter, exhilarated.

Even Guan Yu—still carrying the weight of parting ,felt the faint rise of a smile at the corners of his lips.

“Follow me!” Liu Bei shouted, his voice soaring like a battle cry of hope. “To the vast skies and seas!”

His two brothers echoed him with full hearts:

"To the vast skies and seas!"
"To the vast skies and seas! Hahaha!"

To boundless skies we soar,

From palace walls once held in thrall.

To distant seas untamed and wide,

Where wonder’s light enchants us all.

 

As birds released from iron bars,

As fish that slip through nets and flee

From this day on, we part at last,

And roam the world in liberty.

 

In a secluded chamber of the grandest residence in Xuchang , a room elegant, hushed, and sealed away from prying eyes ,someone studied the liquid inside his wine cup, tilting it slowly so the drink swirled, forming a small whirlpool.

His lips twitched upward.

A thin smile.

A glint of white—small, sharp canines catching the lamplight.

And that lamplight danced in the eyes of the man, eyes that were beautiful… and terrifying.

“Run, long-eared Liu…” the Chancellor murmured with a low, amused chuckle. “Run as far as you can.I’ll enjoy watching just how far you get.”

Cao Mengde tipped his head, laughter rumbling in his throat.

“At the very least, you’re sharper than the fools who linger in this capital.Consider it the mercy of Heaven and of myself , that I allow you to leave unharmed…for now.”

He rose from his seat and gazed toward the night sky outside.

It was pitch black—bereft of stars,bereft of moonlight.

On such a night, no celestial radiance could hope to overshadow the unnatural gleam emanating from him.

“As for that old dog Dong Cheng…” his voice cooled, crystalline and cruel. “I’ll settle that account in one stroke. There’s no rush.”

He raised the cup to his lips and drank deeply, then let another wicked smile unfurl across his face.

“This… is only the beginning.”

Chapter Text

The fragrance of incense , sweet, smoky, mingled with dried blossoms from faraway lands hung in the air of the bedchamber in the general’s residence at Xiapi.
Woven into it was another scent, one known to no one else… save for the two people who shared this room as husband and wife.

“You keep sniffing me like that, dear husband. Were you starving for me that badly?” Ah-Qing teased with a soft giggle, equal parts bashful and amused.

Guan Yunchang drew back from her neck, a gentle smile blooming on his lips, his gaze warm and utterly devoted.

“I missed you,” 

“Sweet talker. Or… did you do something wrong? Perhaps you’ve been whispering those words to someone else?”

“What was that?” He chuckled low in his throat before pinning her lightly against the mattress, raining kisses across her skin.

Ah-Qing squealed, half-flustered, half-laughing from the ticklish onslaught.

“Ah! I believe you, I believe you! Stop teasing me!”

“Oh no… I won’t stop until you truly accept...that I have no one else but you.”

“Eeeek! Don’t—!”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“General, sir! It is time for the training inspection!”

The thirty-eight-year-old warrior lifted himself from his wife’s body, irritation flickering through him , brief, suppressed with impeccable discipline.

For a man like him, duty always came before desires… even desires as aching as these quiet moments with her.

“Ah-Qing. I must go.” He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well. Keep yourself warm. I pray you won’t catch a chill.”

“Yes…”

Ah-Qing nodded softly, watching her husband cross the room to dress himself in full attire before stepping out. The chamber door slid shut behind him, leaving her alone with the fading warmth he had left in the sheets.

Her small hands clenched so tightly that her nails pierced into her own flesh.
Heat , anger, sharp as venom—spread through her chest.

The eyes that were once so beautiful now hardened, shimmering with unshed tears.

And then… her reason snapped like a brittle zither string.

“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

Loneliness, longing, and that quiet hunger she pretended not to know ,all of it coiled and festered until it burst into pure, wild madness.

She seized whatever lay nearby and hurled it to the floor.

Her hands swept blindly across tables and shelves, knocking this and that aside.

Her screams tore from her throat again and again, raw and ragged, as tears streamed down her cheeks so violently they felt as if they would bleed.

“Damn you, Cao Cao! You wretched bastard! You dog-spawned fiend!” She spat curses at the one far, far away—the one she knew was the cause.

“If scum like you didn’t exist…Liu-ge wouldn’t have had to flee Xuchang,and my husband wouldn’t have had to follow him and… and… h-hic…”

She collapsed into the bedding, burying her face into the sheets, weeping with a bitterness sharp as iron and a hatred that burned.

A woman raised on love—doted on by her father, never denied by her husband, adored by her children , reduced now to near-delirium over a single night’s absence…over being forced to abstain from the sweetness of marital intimacy, a sweetness she pretended not to crave yet deep down adored… and perhaps had grown addicted to beyond rescue.

And this, dear readers, is the nature of desire: impermanent, unstable, untrustworthy and in the end, always sowing suffering in its wake.

She cast a glance toward the far corner behind the folding screen ,the place where she kept a small altar, where a carved lotus-shaped stone tablet represented the Blessed One… and where she had also placed something that stood as His opposite, the shadow paired to the light of enlightenment.

Funny, isn’t it?

I have met many like her.

People who walk the path of awakening, certain ,so certain—that they have never strayed, that they are good, better than the common masses…

Yet alas, in truth they remain trapped: caught in snares of delusion, bound by ego, unable to escape the labyrinth of their own thoughts.

Hu Qingyue…is not different.

She never wanted to resort to this. By her true nature, she was not someone who relied on dark charms or sorcery.

But despair had gnawed at her until she could barely remember who she was, and when a heart sinks far enough—such things become inevitable.

Drip… drip…

Red blood trickled from her upper arm,falling into the small dish placed before the little black wooden figurine.

It was the carving of a black demon : fierce-faced, vaguely human, wings unfurled from its back.

She recalled receiving it during the journey to Dunhuang at the age of fourteen.The words of the merchant who forced it into her hand still echoed in her mind:

“If you hate someone, feed it just a single drop of your blood…

and it may bring calamity upon the one you despise.”

“Heh… heh, heh… heh, heh, heh…”

Ah-Qing laughed— a laugh unlike any she had ever produced.

Cold.

Chilling.

Filled with self-mockery and the rancor that had festered in her heart toward the man she hated most.

Cao Mengde was not merely a tyrant.

He was the thief of joy— the one who robbed everyone of their happiness...Even hers.

Thud… thud… thud…

“Yaaawn… I shouldn’t have drunk water so late. Now I have to walk all the way out just to pee…” Guan Ping muttered as he carried his lantern, intending to head back to his own room.

And it should have gone that way…if not for the uneasy feeling that suddenly gripped him, pulling his feet toward his parents’ chamber.

“Mama…? Are you asleep?”

No answer. So he mustered his courage and slid the door open.

He froze.

The room was in shambles—objects scattered across the floor, some shattered, some toppled over and fabric torn to ribbons.

And in the darkened corner… a figure sat slumped, the ivory night-robe stained with a slow, seeping patch of red at the right sleeve.

“Mama!!!”

Ping darted forward, grabbing hold of her and before he could even process the fear surging in him, his eyes caught the little black demon carving set before her.

'You!'
The thought flashed like lightning. He snatched the figurine up, snapped it clean in half, and flung the pieces into the oil-lantern ,soon the flames swallowed it instantly, reducing the thing to ash.

“You foolish child! What have you done!?”

“What about you, Mama? What have you done!?” The boy’s voice cracked, trembling with worry and terror. “Why would you do this? Did someone hurt you? You can tell me ,but not this. Not this sorcery.”

“You dare raise your voice at me?! I’m your mother!” Ah-Qing snapped back, her reason slipping away under the weight of her own rage.

Guan Ping, eighteen, went still.

His mind whisked him back—to the memory of a seven-year-old boy being whipped after getting into a fight with bullies who mocked him for being a “fatherless child.”

He remembered the sting of the rod across his small back…the screaming, the scolding, the furious contortion of his mother’s face.

And now...this moment felt exactly the same.

But even so,he did not fear her.

Because a mother is a mother—the woman who gave him life, raised him, the most beautiful angel in his eyes.

Even if she was not “lovely” tonight,he knew that deep down she would never choose to be this way if she had the strength not to.

So he chose to hold her.

Rocking her gently as her sobs tore through the room.

Even as his own tears began to fall.

“Mama’s lonely, isn’t she…? Ping’er knows." He spoke softly, struggling to steady his voice.
“Ping’er knows you miss Baba.When he’s gone for a long time, you must be so terribly lonely."

"But Mama… someone as beautiful as you, someone so perfect in everything ,you don’t need something filthy like that.”

“I didn’t use it to call your father back…” Ah-Qing choked out between ragged sobs.

“I… I just wanted to curse Cao Cao…wanted those men to fall, quickly…so the world might calm down…so your father wouldn’t have to leave me again…”

Ping pressed his face into her hair, holding her even tighter, as if by sheer force of love he could anchor her spirit,as if no demon would ever dare take her away again.

“But you still have me… and Xing’er too.You’re not alone, Mama.I hate Cao Cao as much as you do ,for what he’s done to the Emperor, but hurting yourself just to cast curses on someone you hate… it helps no one.”

Ah-Qing wept as though her heart were shattering,unable to utter a single coherent word—like someone drowning, unable to breach the surface for air;like a deer caught in a snare, trembling, helpless, unable to break free.

“Ping’er heard that people who dabble in dark magic die young…or their lives fall to ruin.” Guan Ping whispered, voice barely more than breath.

“Mama… I don’t want you to die.I want you to live a long, long time—with Baba, with me, with Xing’er...Please don’t ever do this again.”

“My child…”

Her voice was hoarse from screaming,her pale, trembling hand lifting to cup her son’s cheek.

“I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”

He answered not with words, but by holding her closer still,letting her bury her face against his shoulder as he quietly, silently kept her from falling apart.

That night, Guan Ping sat by his mother’s bedside, keeping vigil.He nearly nodded off several times, only to pinch himself awake.

Sometimes he stared at her wounded arm—the one he had just cleaned and wrapped and then his gaze would drift back to her sleeping face, pale and exhausted.

The sounds of his father and mother “enjoying themselves” at the inn in Xuchang still echoed in his memory.

Embarrassing, yes.

Flustering, absolutely.

But thinking back on it now…he finally understood.

It made perfect sense why his father never wanted concubines, never sought another woman the way so many men of this world did.

'If Ping’er ever marries…I want it to be for love ,the kind of love Baba and Mama have for each other.'

As he closed his eyes, he slowly drifted into another dream,  where he found himself standing beside the Emperor, who appeared to be about nineteen years of age.

“Your Majesty… why do You look so unsettled?”

“We are afraid…”

“Afraid? Afraid of what, Your Majesty?”

“You have never had anyone. Never fathered a child. You would not understand,” Emperor Xian sighed, his shoulders drooping.

“In truth… even We, who are about to have a child,are unsure of Ourselves.”

“Well… Your Majesty, this humble one has never been a father either, but I do have a younger brother eleven years my junior." Guan Ping tilted his head, attempting to follow the Emperor’s thoughts. "Every day, I’m practically his second father already…”

He laughed awkwardly, realizing how foolish that must have sounded.

“Mm… is that so? Good for you, then.” The Emperor let out a faint smile , tinged with a sorrow far beyond his years.

“Think of it as practice for when you have children of your own someday.As for Us… Concubine Dong, daughter of Dong Cheng—she is with child now.”

“Oh! Congratulations, Your Majesty!”

“But We are afraid.” His fingers tightened, knuckles pale.

“It was We who sent the secret letters to Dong Cheng…We who helped compile the list of those who oppose Cao Cao.If this plan fails…if Dong Cheng is punished…then Consort Dong will be punished too ,even though she carries Our child.”

 

Ah… dear readers, this young man does not know that the dream he wanders through is a whisper of the future ,a memory waiting to happen.

A prelude to cruelty committed by a man drunk on power, who cloaked tyranny beneath the banner of “loyalty to the Han, invoking old favors and manufactured righteousness as weapons to destroy all who differed from him.

And those merely connected to the dissenters—even the innocent, even the unborn were fated to perish as well.

In the fifth year of the Jian’an era (AD 200), after Cao Cao crushed the secret anti-Cao faction led by Dong Cheng, the entire Dong family was executed.

And Concubine Dong who had been pregnant for five months... Was not spared either.

To Father… the man Ah-Ping loves the most,

 

Uncle Liu sent me a letter today.

He said he received the news from someone inside Xuchang…

And after reading it— Ah-Ping cried for days. Three days, seven days ,crying quietly in my own room, because what happened was too heavy… too cruel.

Cao Cao has discovered the secret decree His Majesty granted to Lord Dong Cheng, along with the list of those who opposed him (Da-bo's name was on it as well).

Because of that, the leader of the faction : Lord Dong Cheng and his entire family…have been executed for treason.

And among them was Consort Dong...who was pregnant.

Who carried a dragon’s bloodline in her womb.

 

Baba, my dearest Baba...

Ah-Ping may be a weak man. I probably shouldn’t burst into tears over things like this.

But when I read Uncle’s letter… I simply couldn’t help it.

I remembered the story you told me when I was growing up , how you fled Hedong after killing a man...a man who tried to violate Mama.

Back then, I didn’t understand just how desperate the situation must have been for things to end that way.

But after reading this letter…Ah-Ping wants to ask you something.

If someone— someone as cruel as that man who attacked Mama, or as heartless as Cao Cao were to come hurt Mama, and me, and little Xing…

What would you do?

Would you kill him?

Or… if that person held more power than you, so much power that even you, Baba, could do nothing…Would you let Mama and your children die, as helpless as His Majesty was when he could not save Consort Dong and the imperial child she carried?

 

Ah-Ping is heartbroken.

I do not understand why Cao Cao would do something like this.

I know… I know that traitors are punished for generations, but if it were me...I would at least let her give birth first, before dealing with her sentence.

 

And also…If Ah-Ping ever stood before someone like Cao Cao,

I think I would ask him this:

“You have wives and children, don’t you?"

"You must love them very much...

"So what would you do,if one day they were killed the way Consort Dong and her unborn child were?!”

 

I don’t understand.

I truly don’t understand at all.

 

— Guan Ping

P.S. Oh, and remember— right now there are only Ah-Ping, Baba, and little Xing know about my dream.

Please don’t tell anyone! (Especially Mama…)

 

Guan Yunchang stared down at the letter in his hand.

His body did not tremble.

No tears fell.

And yet… his gaze flickered more violently than the flame of the oil-lamp beside him.

He never believed himself to understand the world all that well...Never thought of himself as particularly clever.

He knew vaguely, honestly—that he was not the kind of man who excelled at outwitting cunning minds.

But after living more than thirty years, Yunchang had learned something about life.Enough, at least, to know the weight of what he was holding now.

“Ping’er… my child…” he murmured, voice barely above breath.

“You’ve known this world for only eighteen years...Only eighteen years.”

He shut his eyes.

Memories stirred— quiet, fleeting moments across the years in which he actually had time to raise his children.

Yes, there were always duties.

Yes, wars erupted again and again, pulling him away.

But whenever he could, he had tried ,truly tried to spend every moment he could with them.

He had heard people say that generals and officials show love to their children through gifts—wealth, comfort, fine things.

As for physical affection—embraces, touches ,those were rare, almost unheard of.

In truth, he himself was never fond of being touched, not even when he was boy.

Unless it was family : father, mother, siblings, those few he trusted— touch felt suffocating, unwelcome.

Which was why…being hugged by his children always felt different...Always the good ones and why he never hesitated to pull them into his arms in return.

He thought, and thought again— searching for any failing in the way he and his wife had raised their sons.

And he found none.

They had taught their boys kindness, generosity, loyalty.

When it came time to study, they hired good teachers.

The Guan brothers : Ping and Xing never caused trouble,never grew wild or disobedient. They devoted themselves to learning, to honing their talents, and both dreamed of serving their country.

The only flaw he could find if it could be called a flaw was simply that the world they born and lived in... was the World of Fire, Blood and Ashes.

That was all...

“Report! Xiaopei has fallen to Cao Cao’s forces!”

“Lord Liu and General Zhang are missing! We haven’t been able to locate them, sir!”

The courier’s voice struck like an arrow straight through his chest.

Shock surged so violently that Guan Yunchang clutched at his heart, as though a thousand needles were stabbing into it at once.

'Again…!?'

He had not felt this sensation—this suffocating plunge into dread since the day he found the bodies of his parents in the well behind their home in Hedong eighteen years ago.

Yet now it returned…and with a force far more brutal than before.

“Guan Yu! I know you’re in that fortress!” another voice roared from below, sharp with provocation. “Come out and fight me!I want to see just how ‘great’ you really are!”

“General! It’s Xiahou Dun!”

He rose from his seat at once, walked to the edge of the battlements, and looked down…

Yes.

It was truly him.

Xiahou Dun—Cao Cao’s one-eyed war demon sat astride his horse, brandishing his blade toward him.

“Come out, damn you!Why hide like a turtle in its shell, you turtle spawned?!”

At that very moment…the world seemed to stop.

The wind swept through the bamboo leaves,their rustling turning into a long, thin wail like the voices of terrified civilians trembling behind the walls.

If Guan Yu chose not to descend…if he stayed atop the fortress…perhaps he could still do something.

Warn his wife and children.

Send them fleeing somewhere safe.

Buy the time.

But fate is a creature that never loosens its jaws.

And no matter what choice he made, the bearded general was destined to mount his horse and ride after the one-eyed challenger.

What he did not know, what he could not possibly know , was that this moment…was the opening move of a trap.A plan designed to corner him, to separate him from all he wished to protect,so that Cao Cao’s forces could swallow Xiapi whole...

And begin drawing him into their grasp!

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, far from the chaos that was quietly coiling around Xiapi, Guan Ping, the eldest son of Guan Yu and Lady Hu, lay with his brother : Ah-Xing , who was tucked tightly against his chest.
Neither boy knew that their father , who was sent by Liu Xuande to defend the stronghold – had been lured away by Cao Cao’s troops, drawn farther and farther from the city.

And that meant only one thing: there was no protector remained.

Not for the children.

Not for their mother.

Not for anyone within these walls.

Perhaps the fates had not yet marked the young heirs of House Guan for death…Or perhaps Heaven, out of compassion for the bloodline of a warrior so steadfast in loyalty and love for his homeland, intervened out of sight.

For Guan Ping dreamed of the Son of Heaven once more.

But this time, the Emperor did not appear as a gentle companion—no longer the lonely youth who would wander and talk with him amidst the drifting clouds of dream.

He appeared as one who feared for him.

One who came with urgency, with the tremor of someone who desperate to save a life of his beloved friend.

“Guan Ping! Wake at once! Xiapi is no longer safe for you, your brother, nor your mother. You must flee! Flee as far as possible! This is Our command!”

“But… Your Majesty,” Guan Ping protested, trembling, “Lady Gan and Lady Mi , my Lord's wives are still in Xiapi! Even if my father is gone, I must—”

“There is no time! Go Now! We beg you!”

The Emperor’s voice cracked like porcelain breaking in the cold.It was not authority that stabbed into the boy’s heart, it was fear.

The fear of the lonely boy who wanted his friend to be alive and free.

And Guan Ping awoke with tears already in his eyes.

“Young Master! Young Master, wake up! Something terrible has happened!”

Guan Ping pushed himself upright, one arm hugging his half asleep seven-year-old brother close. He hurried to the door and slid it open, only to find Ah-Mu, their maid, white as death and shaking.

“Ah-Mu! What’s going on?”

“I heard that His Lordship rode out to face Xiahou Dun! With him gone, Cao Cao’s men have found an opening—they’re coming to take Xiapi! What are we to do, Young Master?!”

“Mama!”

It was the first word to break from his lips.

Guan Ping sprinted toward the inner quarters, shoved the door open, set his little brother on the couch near the entrance, then launched himself toward his unconscious mother.

“Mama! Mama, wake up! Wake up right now!”

“Mmm… Ah-Ping…? What is it, child?”

“Xiapi is going to fall! I’m taking you and Ah-Xing out of here!”

Lady Hu jolted upright. Her eyes flew wide, pupils dilating; her heart thrashed against her ribs like a frightened bird.

Before she could speak, her eldest son had already grabbed her arm and half-dragged, half-carried her toward the doorway.

“Xing'er! Ah-Mu! Please watch over my mother for a moment!”

Guan Ping dashed back into the bedchamber, leaving Lady Hu standing beside the maid, confusion slowly clearing from her gaze.

Outside, screams tore through the air.

War cries.

Brass bells.

Horn blasts.

Drums pounding from somewhere far yet drawing nearer.

The cacophony made her tremble violently, fists clenched so hard her palms ached.

'Guan-ge… where are you…?'

A heartbeat later, Guan Ping burst back out carrying Ah-Xing and dragging a travel bag stuffed with whatever he could grab.

“I gathered clothes and some silver. We have to go!”

“But…” Lady Hu’s voice cracked as she turned toward the direction of Lady Gan and Lady Mi’s quarters—Liu Bei’s wives.

“Should we not… help the madams as well?”

Guan Ping didn’t answer.

He simply handed Ah-Xing to Ah-Mu, then lifted his mother as if she weighed no more than a handful of cotton, hoisting her across his shoulder before bolting toward the back of the manor.

“No! Ah-Xing doesn’t want to go! Ah-Xing wants to stay home! Wants to stay with Aunties!”

“I won’t go! Not without your father!” Lady Hu cried, thrashing weakly. “If your father isn’t here, then I’m not leaving either!”

“There’s no time! We run! Run or die!”

“Young Master!” Ah-Mu shouted behind them. “The back gate! Use the back gate! I’ll scout ahead!”

Once they burst through the back gate, the sight that met them froze their blood.

All of Xiapi had dissolved into chaos.

People were running everywhere— Parents dragging their children, grandparents clutching sleeping toddlers, husbands hauling wives by the wrist, families scattering like leaves in a storm.

Even the beasts—oxen, mules, stray dogs , they were panicked, screaming and braying as if sharing the terror of the crowds.

LWhat now, Ah-Mu?!” Guan Ping shouted over the uproar, eyes darting wildly. “If we follow the crowd like this, we’ll get trampled!”

And then— A voice.

That strange voice again, echoing in the hollow of his mind.

“Take that cart. Someone will move it soon.”

Guan Ping didn’t have time to question it.

'Fine, then we gamble!'

He plunged through the surging crowd, Ah-Mu close behind, reached the abandoned cart stacked with hay, shoved aside the straw and pushed his mother inside , next went Ah-Xing. Then Guan Ping vaulted in, Ah-Mu scrambling up after him, burying themselves beneath the mound of hay.

“Mama… Ping-ge… Ah-Mu… I’m scared…” The little boy’s voice broke as he clung to his brother, trembling so hard the hay shook with him.

And the eighteen-year-old—still practically a child himself—could only wrap one arm around his brother and offer his shoulder to his mother, who was silently crying into it.

Guan Ping’s eyes that were usually bright, lively, full of that warm courage Liu Xuande always praised—were now empty.

Dim.

Extinguished.

Like stars smothered by ash.

He had no idea if his father lived...No idea if Uncle Liu or Uncle Zhang were dead or captured or fighting for their last breath.

All he knew was a single, burning truth:

'I have to protect them.

My mother, my brother,and Ah-Mu— my nanny.

I must protect them, no matter what!'

“Where are you running, you one-eyed coward?!”

Guan Yu bellowed the taunt as he spurred his horse hard, dust exploding under Red Hare’s pounding hooves. The battlefield reeked of iron, smoke, and the doomed age of fire and ashes tightening its grip around them all.

“Guan Yu! Fight me instead!”

A voice boomed sharply.

He jerked his head toward it and saw the massive, tiger-like figure of Xu Chu, the infamous “Tiger Fool,” barreling toward him with murder in his eyes.

“Don't you dare challenge me, knave!” Guan Yu snarled back, cutting sharply to pursue Xu Chu next.

He had no idea that with every stride, every furious gallop, he was running straight into the jaws of a trap—a tiger charging into a hunter’s net.

“Don’t kill him! Drive him toward the foot of the mountain!”

His phoenix eyes widened.

He whipped around toward the voice and spotted Xu Huang, another of Cao Cao’s formidable commanders.

“General! Don’t engage them head-on!”

The voice drifted through his mind— a thin thread of light in a void of chaos.

At first he dismissed it.

War heat, exhaustion, stray thoughts...He must be imagining it.

But the voice returned, firm , almost like a decree.

“Flee to the foot of that mountain.Yield to the flow for now...Your life cannot end here."

On any other day, Guan Yu would have ignored it, he would have fought until his breath left his lungs.

But something made him heed it...As if Heaven itself had spoken.He wrenched the horse's reins, broke through Cao Cao’s tightening formation, and charged toward the mountain.

When he finally reached the foot of the slope, he dropped from his saddle— knees buckling, breath tearing from his chest, the weight of the sky pressing down until his vision trembled.

The truth was simple:

No matter how much qi a man cultivated, no matter how mighty his spirit— a human body still knew exhaustion.

And he had pushed his far beyond its limits.

'So this is it…Will my life end here?'

Guan Yu sank onto a rocky ledge.

Weariness swallowed him whole, and he slipped into unconsciousness almost at once— yet even asleep, one hand clutched his blade, ready to tear its edge into the throat of anyone foolish enough to wake the slumbering tiger.

“Dear General…”

When Guan Yu opened his eyes, he found himself once more in that grassy clearing of the imperial gardens.

But this time, there were no ministers, no guards, no hunt, no ceremony.

Only himself and a beautiful young man standing before him.

Guan Yu’s eyes widened, he dropped to his knees at once, hands clasped before him.

“Your Majesty! This humble subject offers his deepest bow!”

“Rise… please rise, General.”

Emperor Xian stepped closer, his right hand resting gently upon the warrior’s shoulder.

That touch was warm, soft, like the first sunlight of the finest dawn in a lifetime.

“General Guan… do not despair. Guard your life well, even if, in the days to come… you must do the thing that will wound your loyal heart most of all.”

“Your Majesty...what do You mean by that? This servant does not understand.”

“You may soon be forced to dwell among the enemy…”

The young emperor’s eyes fell, shadowed with sorrow, though his lips still offered a faint, gentle smile.

“He is enemy to you and to Us both… but hear Us well. You will make it through this.We believe that.”

“By ‘enemy’… Your Majesty means Cao Cao, does it not?!”

Guan Yu’s voice hardened, anger rising like heat.

“I have waited long enough for this day! Good! Then I shall finally cut down that treacherous wretch!”

“Oh…Please, no.”

The Son of Heaven raised a hand to stop him.

“Have you forgotten what happened to Dong Cheng? If you cherish Us as your son cherishes , do not risk your life against the Chancellor.”

In the dream, the great warrior wept.

Quietly.

Tightly.

Tears slipping down to darken the green blades of grass beneath him.

He bowed his head so the young emperor would not see—out of humility, out of grief, out of something he did not dare name.

For he did not want to feel more than the pity of a faithful subject toward his sovereign.

Not the tenderness of a father of an eighteen-year-old boy.

Nor the ache he felt for another young man , who at that time was only a year older than his son and who, by all rights...Should never have been pitied at all.

“Your wife and sons… they have escaped Xiapi by now.”

Those quiet words from the young emperor struck the crimson-armored general like a blade to the chest. Guan Yu jerked his head up, desperately seeking anchor in the boy’s face.

“Truly, Your Majesty?! But—”

“We are not certain,” Liu Xie murmured, pacing with restless hands. “In truth… it has been some time already. We only know what we saw.”

He looked uncertain—like someone trying to grasp smoke.

“We believe in divine beings, yes… but miracles? Dreams? Omens?”

A weary smile tugged at his lips.

“We do not know. We barely trust such things anymore.If miracles were real, We would not have lost Consort Dong, nor even Our child who never even had a chance to be born...Would we?”

Guan Yu lowered his head, lips tightening...He dared not comment.

“But—hm.” The emperor paused, tilting his head, brows furrowing in thought.“We have been having peculiar dreams for a while now, ever since the hunting trip.”

He looked up at Guan Yu, eyes slightly wide.

“We keep dreaming of meeting your eldest son. Shooting arrows with him. Practicing sword forms together...And it kept happening, again and again.”

“Guan Ping!” Guan Yu’s voice cracked. “Then what he told me was true! He truly dreamed of Your Majesty!”

Silence fell heavy over the grassy clearing.

A silence filled with questions neither knew how to voice and a thin, trembling thread connecting two souls who should never have met in such a way.

“Anyway,” the emperor said at last, waving a hand lightly,

“We simply mean this: you must preserve your life.For your sons, for your wife and for your lord, Liu Xuande.”

The nearly forty-year-old warrior exhaled a long, shaking breath.So many weights pressed upon him he felt his ribs might crack.

'If I truly must go to Cao Cao… then I must serve the tyrant who torments the Son of Heaven.'

'Will I break my oath to Da-ge and San-di? Will I betray the bond forged in peach blossoms and brotherhood?'

'And my wife… my sons…Where have they gone? Are they safe?'

Lost in a storm of tangled thoughts, with no path forward and no path back, the Son of Heaven’s voice rose again—washing away the darkness, cutting through the despair,soothing the heart like rain falling upon parched fields.

“General, there are times when a man must set aside the strict letter of righteousness in order to preserve his life—and his time.”

“To preserve your life is to preserve the chance to be of use in days yet to come.You are still young, your strength is not spent. If you die here today… and if Liu Xuande should reclaim Xiapi tomorrow, all will be too late, and what of your wife and sons? You would not even be alive to seek them.”

Guan Yu bowed his head in solemn agreement.

“Preserve your time,” Emperor Xian continued softly. “Consider living under the enemy’s power not as betrayal… but as waiting.Not for revenge but to see how he will treat you, and how he will treat his own.”

Guan Yu frowned, earnest and troubled.

“This dull servant does not understand.I beg Your Majesty… grant clarity.”

“You may not realize it,” the emperor murmured, almost reluctantly, “but We have heard whispers… that the Chancellor admires capable, brilliant men.It is said he values them above all else.”

A faint, wry smile touched his lips.

“And so it seems… he is bound to take quite a liking to you.”

Capable…?

Brilliant…?

Take a liking to him…?

The blood in Guan Yu’s veins turned cold at those three simple words.

At once, the memory flashed—that fox-eyed gaze of Cao Cao, half-smiling, half-calculating,and the crushing sense of becoming small, as small as dust suspended in the vastness of the cosmos beneath the gaze of that terrifying statesman.

Fear rose like a tide, threatening to drag him under— But before he could sink into that dark water, a soft, delicate hand touched the center of his back.

A gentle stroke.

Warm.

Soothing.

Tender in a way he was not prepared for.

“You are not a coward like Us...Why fear?” the emperor whispered.

“And a good man such as you…neither the Chancellor, nor anyone else would ever truly be able to harm you.”

But before Guan Yu could say another word, the young emperor suddenly snapped his head toward the distance.

Guan Yu followed his gaze and saw the forest beyond them erupting in flames.

“General! Run!—Ah!” The slender imperial body—frail in a way only royal blood could be was suddenly hoisted over Guan Yu’s shoulder.

Without looking back, the Crimson Lord bolted from the clearing, away from the spreading fire.

“Put Us down! That is an order!”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty! Even if I must be flogged or executed ,if You remain safe, I shall die content!”

Thud!

The emperor’s heel struck his abdomen—hard.Guan Yu collapsed, choking, air ripped from his lungs in a shock of pain so real it felt like waking.

“Ugh—! Your Majesty!”

“We’re sorry! We’re sorry!” The Emperor’s voice trembled as he dropped to his knees beside him, small hands clutching the warrior’s sleeve, dragging and pulling him across the grass with all the fragile strength of a desperate youth.

He dragged him across the clearing, down the slope,Ntoward the water’s edge.

“Please… do not forget Us , and do not forget what We have said to you, General Guan.”

Those were the last words before the emperor shoved him, suddenly and without warning, into the dark mirror of the water below.

The final sight Guan Yu saw before he sank—was the face of that mournful young man,robes of ivory billowing in the wind, a silk cloak trailing behind him like pale smoke, while flames devoured the forest at his back.

“Your Majesty!!!”

Thus ended the peace that had cradled the fledgling birds of the Peach Blossom Grove— Liu Bei, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei and every little bird who once nested there beneath soft petals and spring winds.

In a world of fire, blood, and ashes,what happiness could ever last long?

What war could ever truly be the last...When the faith of peace had only just begun to take root in the soil of China?

But fret not, dear listener. This is not the ending of the long tale your Black Cat intends to tell you.

No—this is merely the beginning of a new journey for the Crimson Lord and his Desert Princess.

[Thus ends the PEACH BLOSSOM ARC.]

(And the new journey—the one that will test hearts and reveal what truly lies within them is about to begin.)