Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

The wind in Qingzhou carried the salty stench of the Bohai Bay, yet it couldn't dispel the restlessness in Yuan Tan's heart. He paced back and forth in his military tent, his grip on the riding whip turning white. Who had the patience to truly antagonize Cao Ang on the border of Xuzhou? He was merely driven to desperation by the prison of Ye City.

This story begins with his father, Yuan Shao. Ever since Tian Feng and Ju Shou were imprisoned last year for strongly advising against attacking Cao Cao, his father had treated these two old ministers like trash, indulging in wine and women all day long, leaving the affairs of state almost entirely in the hands of his third brother, Yuan Shang. Yuan Tan thought that life would continue in this muddled way.

Unexpectedly, news suddenly came from Ye City a few days ago: the prison where Tian Feng and Ju Shou were imprisoned caught fire, and the two old ministers perished in the flames!

The news struck Yuan Tan like a thunderbolt. Was the fire in the prison an "accident"? But then came another rumor: the clansmen of the Tian and Ju families had disappeared long before the fire, and their mansions were empty.

Yuan Shao, who had long neglected state affairs, seemed to suddenly awaken at this moment. Upon hearing of the tragic deaths of Tian Feng and Ju Shou, he flew into a rage. Perhaps he had forgotten how he had imprisoned the two men in the first place, only remembering that these two were pillars of Hebei, and now their mysterious deaths in a fire had implicated the disappearance of their clansmen. He immediately slammed his fist on the table and ordered a thorough investigation.

Taking advantage of the situation, Yuan Shang fanned the flames, insisting that Yuan Tan had secretly taken the two away and even moved their clansmen. Yuan Shao, who already harbored resentment towards Yuan Tan for colluding with disgraced officials, was now even more enraged. He issued an edict to Qingzhou, ordering Yuan Tan to immediately resign and go to Ye City for questioning.

When Yuan Tan received the imperial edict, his back was soaked with cold sweat. He knew that once he went to Ye City, he might never return. Yuan Shang had long wanted to get rid of his elder brother and seize his military power in Qingzhou.

At this critical moment, his two advisors, Xin Ping and Guo Tu, entered his tent that very night and gave him a suggestion: "My lord, you must not return to Ye City at this time! You should immediately muster your troops and launch a feigned attack on the border of Xuzhou, making it appear as if you are about to engage in a decisive battle with Cao Ang. Once the war begins, the lord will know that you are overwhelmed and will naturally not force you to return."

Yuan Tan, as if waking from a dream, immediately acted according to the plan. He sent small groups of troops to harass the border of Xuzhou every day, burning two camps and seizing some grain and fodder. The movements were small, but enough to let Ye City know that "the war in Qingzhou is critical." Sure enough, after a few days, the urging orders from Ye City stopped, presumably because Yuan Shao's mind was preoccupied with the "war."

But this was ultimately just a temporary measure. Yuan Tan gazed at the starry sky over Qingzhou outside the tent, feeling a tightness in his chest. He looked towards Xuzhou and sneered, "Cao Ang, Cao Ang, we have no deep-seated hatred for each other, but the ways of the world force us to put on an act. Just bear with it. As long as you can escape the blades of Ye City, what is this little disturbance?"

Inside the palace in Ye City, several gilded braziers burned with the finest silver-boned charcoal, their warmth almost making one forget the cold winter outside. Yuan Shao leaned against a soft couch covered with fox fur, a low table in front of him laden with delicacies and fine wine. Several newly selected beauties surrounded him, pouring him wine and speaking softly to him.

The palace was filled with the pleasant sounds of string and wind instruments. Dancers, clad in light silk skirts, twirled and swayed, their gold hairpins jingling with each movement. Yuan Shao, eyes half-closed, raised his wine cup and downed it in one gulp. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed his drunkenness; the sharp edge of his former self, who once ruled Hebei and looked down upon the world, was long gone. His health was visibly declining; his coughs grew more frequent, yet he always used the excuse of "feeling the winter cold" to dedicate all state affairs to his young son, Yuan Shang.

The news of Tian Feng and Ju Shou's deaths in the prison fire some time ago had indeed given him a fright, and he even dreamt that the two old ministers stood before him, their bodies charred black. But a few days later, Yuan Shang found several stunning beauties and invited a group of scholars skilled in philosophical discussions to chat with him. His sense of vigilance gradually vanished like a sugar cube soaked in warm water.

“Father,” Yuan Shang stood at the corner of the hall, watching his father laughing heartily surrounded by beauties, a barely perceptible hint of contempt flashing in his eyes. Just now, he had come to report on the war in Qingzhou, saying that Yuan Tan and Cao Ang were locked in a stalemate at the border, but his father had merely waved his hand, muttering, “I know, let him handle it himself,” before turning back to flirting with the beauties.

Yuan Shang chuckled inwardly: Let him continue to indulge in this obsession, Father.

He turned his head slightly, his gaze sweeping across the outside of the hall. His eldest brother, Yuan Tan, had been warned by him over the Tian Feng incident and was now trapped in Qingzhou, without even the courage to return to Ye City. His second brother, Yuan Xi, was walking on thin ice in Youzhou. Yan Liang and Wen Chou had suffered repeated defeats in their battles against Ma Chao's troops in Bingzhou. Yuan Xi had to supervise the supply of provisions and deal with the "supervisors" he had sent. He was overwhelmed with worries every day. Some time ago, he even secretly sent a secret letter, which was full of submission.

As for the powerful families of Hebei, they had already seen the winds of change. Wang Yun, Feng Ji, and other favored ministers of his father had openly or secretly pledged allegiance to him. The powerful clans entrenched in Ji and You provinces also flocked to him, hoping to preserve their families under his rule. The entire Hebei province appeared peaceful under his administration. Official documents from various counties were filled with phrases like "abundant harvests" and "the people are happy and content." No one dared mention the dire situation in Bing province, much less Yuan Tan's predicament in Qing province.

Yuan Shang straightened his sleeves and slowly retreated from the palace. The cold wind in the corridor brushed against his face, yet he felt completely refreshed. While Hebei was nominally still his father's domain, in reality, it was Yuan Shang who held the reins. His elder brothers were merely pawns in his hands, and his father's obsession with power had greatly aided him.

He looked up at the gray sky, a smug smile playing on his lips. Once things had stabilized for a while longer, and Yuan Tan, this major threat, was eliminated, there would be no more obstacles in Hebei. At that point, even if his father woke up, what could he do to him?

The sounds of string and wind instruments continued inside the palace, mingled with Yuan Shao's laughter, creating a stark contrast with the cold wind outside. Yuan Shang knew that this seemingly warm and peaceful place was nothing more than a carefully woven net, and those trapped within it were still lost in a life of decadence, completely unaware.

The palaces of Ye City, though magnificent, were like a gilded cage, trapping Emperor Liu Xie within. Winter sunlight streamed through the window lattices, falling on the cold floor tiles, offering no warmth whatsoever. He sat at his desk, his pen hovering for a long time, yet ultimately unable to utter a single word—the memorials on his desk were merely decorations sent by Yuan Shang; he had no right to even review them.

"Your Majesty, the Third Prince requests your presence." A eunuch's shrill voice came from outside the hall, carrying a hint of deliberate urging.

Liu Xie's body trembled, and his hand gripping the pen tightened abruptly. It was Yuan Shang again. That third young master of the Yuan family seemed to find daily amusement in mocking him. Today he made him pour wine for the banquet guests, tomorrow he ordered him to copy Yuan Shang's new poems and essays. Any hesitation was met with sarcastic remarks, every sentence invariably referring to him as a "puppet emperor" or "a figurehead." He was the emperor of the Han Dynasty, yet now he lived worse than a mere retainer of the Yuan family, even having to carefully consider his words before looking at others.

Humiliation washed over him like a tide, and he couldn't help but think of Liu Bian.

Back then, he was just an insignificant member of the imperial clan, watching Liu Bian sit on the dragon throne, manipulating his ministers at will. At that time, Liu Bei, Cao Cao, Ma Chao, the Yuan brothers (Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu), Gongsun Zan… all those renowned warlords, before Liu Bian, weren't they all cautious and subservient?

He had once envied Liu Bian's shrewdness and secretly plotted with his confidants to seize power. But once he actually sat on the throne, he realized what it meant to be powerless. Liu Bian could hold the feudal lords in the palm of his hand, while he couldn't even handle a mere Yuan Shang. The difference was immense.

"If only I hadn't attacked Liu Bian back then..." he murmured to himself, his voice as soft as a sigh. But there's no going back in this world.

In a daze, he recalled the days when Lü Bu ruled Xuchang. Although Lü Bu was arrogant then, he maintained a facade of respect for him, the emperor, and never deliberately humiliated him like this. He didn't have to live in constant fear, and could even study peacefully in the palace gardens, occasionally discussing politics with his ministers. Those days were the most peaceful and comfortable time he had experienced since ascending the throne.

"Your Majesty?" the eunuch urged again, his tone tinged with impatience.

Liu Xie closed his eyes, suppressing the chaotic thoughts. He slowly stood up, straightened his wrinkled dragon robe, and even the most magnificent robe could not hide the fear and exhaustion in his eyes.

Stepping out of the palace gates, a cold wind rushed into his collar, making him shiver. He gazed in the direction of Yuan Shang, walking step by step like a puppet, even his steps heavy with a sense of helplessness. For him, the throne was no longer an honor, but a daily torment.

The last rays of sunlight in 201 AD fell on the glazed tiles of the palace walls of Ye City, reflecting fragmented golden light, much like the turbulent events that had unfolded throughout the year. As the final drumbeat echoed through the streets, this year, filled with war and intrigue, finally came to a close amidst the wind and snow.

The sounds of firecrackers on New Year's Eve were scattered throughout the various cities. In Chengdu, the defenders lit torches on the city walls, their red cheeks from the cold, listening to the faint bugle calls from the Xiliang army camp outside the city, silently chewing on the coarse grains mixed in with their New Year's Eve dinner; the defenders of Xiangyang wrapped themselves tightly in their armor, gazing towards Yingchuan in the north, wondering if Guan Yu's reinforcements had already crossed the frozen river; Cao Ang of Xuzhou stood under the eaves of the government office, watching Yunlu dress the children in new clothes, the icicles on the eaves reflecting the lamplight, revealing the complex light in his eyes; in the palace of Yecheng, Yuan Shao's banquet was still noisy, the sound of string and wind instruments drowning out the distant firecrackers, Yuan Shang raised his wine cup, his gaze sweeping over Liu Xie, who stood bowing below the steps, a smug smile on his lips.

As the first rays of dawn pierced the sky of 202 and fell upon the battlefield covered in a thin layer of snow, the new year quietly began, carrying a chilling atmosphere.

New banners were raised at the Xiliang army's camp outside Chengdu. Ma Chao stood on a high slope, looking at the increasingly sparse defenders on the city walls. The tiger-headed golden spear in his hand gleamed coldly in the morning light. The siege had lasted for nearly half a year, and it seemed that the fate of this isolated city was about to end.

On the walls of Xiangyang, Zhuge Liang unfurled a newly drawn map, his finger tracing the border between Yingchuan and Nanyang. Guan Yu's reinforcements were already on their way; whether Yingchuan could be held would determine the safety of Jingzhou's northern border and also affect the balance of power between the Central Plains and Xiliang.

The Jiangdong navy was drilling on the Yangtze River. Zhou Yu stood on the deck of a warship, gazing south towards Jingnan. Changsha was already in their grasp, and news of victories from Lingling and Guiyang kept arriving. Jiangdong's territory was quietly expanding, waiting only for the right moment to compete with the northern warlords.

Further north, in Youzhou, the cold wind whipped up snowflakes, pelting the grain convoy that Yuan Xi was overseeing. Meanwhile, Yan Liang and Wen Chou's battle in Bingzhou remained deadlocked. Looking at the endless rows of grain carts behind him, he felt the pressure on his shoulders was heavier than the harsh winter.

The winds of 202 years have blown across frozen rivers, crumbling city walls, and over everyone struggling in this chaotic world. They brought new hope, but also foreshadowed an even fiercer struggle. The chessboard of the world has become increasingly complex; every move could potentially determine the fate of the entire land.