Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

As the night clock neared its end, Wang Yun's carriage rolled over the bluestone pavement, the bronze bells on the shafts tinkling softly. As he lifted the curtain and stepped into the prime minister's residence, a waning moon hung high above the eaves. A servant, standing watch in the corridor, held a lantern and came forward. In the warm, yellow light, the wrinkles around the old minister's eyes were as fine as spiderwebs.

At three quarters past the hour of Mao, the morning mist still hung. Wang Yun wore a black brocade robe over a crane cloak, the jade pendant at his waist jingling against the jolting carriage. Thirty miles outside Chang'an, they saw banners billowing in the dust, and Lü Bu's Bingzhou Wolf Cavalry encampment loomed like a giant beast. Iron armor gleamed coldly at the gate, and the guards, realizing it was the Minister of the Interior's carriage, hurriedly beat drums to announce the arrival of the Minister of the Interior.

"Squeak!" The cowhide curtain of the commander's tent swung open. Lü Bu, wearing a purple-gold crown, his brow etched with a chill like frost. As he stepped forward to meet him, the red tassel on his painted halberd brushed against the candlelight in the tent, darkening his expression. "Father-in-law, have you come at this hour? Has something untoward happened at court?" Before he could finish his words, the bronze wine jar on the table clanged with a dull thud.

Wang Yun glanced over the mess of wine and cold meat scattered across the floor. He saw Lü Bu's dark battle robe stained with grass, and even the jade crown holding his hair askew. He knew the battles of the last few days had worn this fierce general down to a fray. He stroked his beard gently, his tone shrouded in a spring chill. "Fengxian, the chess game of the world is inherently fickle. The emperor's fate is drawing to a close. Why bother with such a fierce battle?"

"Fate?" Lu Bu suddenly slammed the table so hard that the wine splashed. "Since becoming famous at Hulao Pass, my Bingzhou Wolf Cavalry has been invincible. Now we are being suppressed by those rebels in Xiliang!" He turned around abruptly, and the friction of armor was harsh. "What's even more hateful is that Zhang Liao, my former comrade, led 300 cavalry to raid the camp at night! These drunkards under my command let him enter the camp as if there was no one there, burned a lot of supplies and then got away!" When he said this, the blue veins on his neck popped up, and the candlelight cast his shadow on the tent, like a trapped beast.

Wang Yun took a half step closer and gently placed his withered hand on Lü Bu's shoulder. The warmth from his fingertips seemed drained away by time, leaving only an icy coldness. "Fengxian, victory and defeat are commonplace in war. The Western Liang cavalry are already valiant, and now the Western Qiang King, Cheliji, has led his entire tribe to support us. Those Qiang have been raised on horseback, and their archery skills rival those of our Bingzhou men. Furthermore, the Western Liang army has been victorious, and morale is high. A relentless confrontation at this moment is unwise. I've advised you long ago to conserve your strength. Why get so angry here? But today I have news that may put your mind at ease."

Lu Bu raised his thick eyebrows, a glint flashed in his eyes, and his previous anger seemed to be diluted by his curiosity. He said anxiously, "Father-in-law, please speak!"

Wang Yun's gaze was profound, and he spoke slowly, "It's strange to hear that the emperor has secretly colluded with the Jiangdong nobles. Do you know Sun Ce? He intended to lead his army to Chang'an to avenge Ma Chao, but who could have imagined that he would suddenly die before even reaching Jingzhou? Now Jiangdong has fallen into the hands of his brother Sun Quan. The former Jiangdong overlord has finally become a thing of the past. Upon hearing this news, the emperor believed that a major threat had been eliminated, and now he is in a state of great pride and satisfaction."

Lü Bu's face was solemn, and he said in a deep voice, "This is not good news for us. Without any scruples, the emperor will probably become even more unscrupulous."

Wang Yun stroked his beard and chuckled, a calculating look in his eyes. "How can this not be good news? The Xiliang rebels are now fifty miles to Chang'an. If it weren't for you and Liu Bei holding out here, Chang'an would have been under siege long ago. The emperor was overwhelmed by the war a few days ago and acted cautiously. But now, in his triumph, he's lost his mind. To be honest, I've received a response to my secret letter to Cao Mengde. His army has already passed Luoyang and is lying in ambush, waiting for a change in the situation in Chang'an!"

Lü Bu's eyes widened as he strode forward amidst the clashing of armor. The red tassel of his painted halberd swept across the candlelight, sending up a few sparks. "So, it's finally time to act?" he asked, his voice filled with uncontrollable excitement, as if he had already envisioned the scene of Fang Tian's painted halberd drinking blood at the palace gate.

Wang Yun raised his hand to hold the swaying bronze wine jar on the table, a sinister smile spreading across his old face. "It's almost time. New Year's Eve is approaching, and the emperor can continue to act arrogantly for a few more days. When the Western Liang army's offensive becomes fiercer, you and Liu Bei will feign defeat and retreat to Chang'an to defend it. Once the city gates are closed, it's time to take action."

"But if the Western Liang army reaches the city, even if we get rid of the emperor and support Liu Xie, how can Chang'an be defended with enemies on all sides?" Lü Bu frowned and stroked the jade belt at his waist. Sweat seeping through the crevices of his armor soaked the lining.

"What if we can hold it? What if we can't?" Wang Yun suddenly chuckled, his skinny fingers drawing an arc in the air, "As long as the emperor is executed, if we can't hold the city, we will abandon it! When Cao Cao's army arrives, we will escort Liu Xie westward. What's wrong with leaving Chang'an to the Xiliang rebels?" A cold light shone in his eyes, "We can frame Xiliang for the crime of regicide and make them the public enemy of the world. And if we assist the new emperor, we will be his loyal ministers!"

Lü Bu was still hesitant, his iron boots rolling heavily over the blue bricks: "But if we go to Cao Cao's territory, won't we be living under someone else's roof?"

"Stupid!" Wang Yun slammed the table and stood up, shaking the bamboo slips. "Ma Chao is dead, Xiliang is leaderless; Liu Biao and Liu Zhang are short-sighted. If they truly care about the Han Dynasty, why would they sit idle? Sun Quan of Jiangdong is just a child, I've never heard of his achievements!" He took a half step forward, his cloudy old eyes staring directly at Lu Bu. "Looking at the world, only Yuan Shao can achieve great things. But if you and I support Cao Cao's growth, when he competes with Yuan Shao for supremacy, how dare we neglect our meritorious ministers? By then, the emperor will be in our hands, and the world..." His words stopped abruptly, but they resonated in the tent.

Lü Bu's eyes burned red, his painted halberd trembling with laughter, and long-suppressed murderous intent burst out from the cracks in his armor: "Excellent! A good plan to drive the tiger away and devour the wolf! But father-in-law, if Liu Bei holds out and refuses to retreat, it will ruin our plans..." Before he could finish his words, a cold wind blew in from outside the tent, carrying gravel and blowing out the candlelight on the table.

Wang Yun's bony fingers stroked the jade ring, a shadowy glint seeping from his wrinkles. "Hmph, if he doesn't know the current situation, he'll be courting his own death. When you feign defeat and retreat, the Western Liang cavalry will surge forward like a tide. How long can his few remaining soldiers hold out against such a formidable force?" The old voice suddenly lowered, like a venomous snake spitting out its tongue. "What's more, swords have no eyes on the battlefield. Who can guarantee that this Emperor Liu won't be caught in the chaos..." Before he could finish his words, he was interrupted by a meaningful sneer.

Lü Bu suddenly burst into laughter, his voice shaking the ceiling and even making the hanging cowhide map rustle: "Brilliant! Brilliant! Let him be the human shield in front of the Xiliang army!" His scarlet tongue licked his cracked lips, as if he had already seen the tragic scene of Liu Bei being crushed by the iron hooves. "Once the gates of Chang'an are closed, he will be abandoned!"

As the night deepened, the distant sound of drums drifted in from outside the general's tent, mingling with the faint blast of horns from the distant Xiliang camp. Wang Yun and Lü Bu exchanged smiles, their shadows cast across the tent by the candlelight. They looked like two vicious beasts, preying on prey, plotting a scheme that could overturn the world.

A bitter north wind, carrying fine sand, swept through the Xiliang army formations. The white banners rustled in the wind, like frozen elegy, both inside and outside the camp. Despite the continuous reports of victory, the camp, usually thrumming with the roar of battle, was now filled with a deathly silence. The patrolling soldiers' armor clashed softly, and even the campfires, deliberately dimmed, accentuated the soldiers' tense jawlines.

The black iron commander's flag still fluttered before the tent, but the plain silk wrapped around the pole gave the falcon a solemn, murderous air. These men, following the Heavenly General in his campaigns across the country, had the motto, "Whoever invades Xiliang will be punished, no matter how far away," etched into their very bones from the moment they joined the army. That general, clad in silver armor and bearing a blood-stained silver spear, was not only a god of war feared by the foreign races, but also a spiritual totem for whom thousands of soldiers were willing to risk their lives.

Inside the tent, the old military doctor probed the medicinal wine in the ceramic jar with a silver needle, his cloudy eyes bloodshot. "We eat bran cakes mixed with gravel, and use homemade leather armor to block scimitars. The military exploits we fought for with blood have become a thorn in the eyes of some people." Before he finished speaking, the muffled sound of weapons clashing could be heard from outside the tent. Three or five young soldiers were hacking at wooden stakes with their swords. Their red eyes were faintly visible in the flying sawdust.

As the night watchman struck the third watch drum, the neighing of war horses suddenly rose outside the tent, as if even the animals were wailing over this injustice. Moonlight flickered across the scimitars at the soldiers' waists, illuminating a cold glow, like the increasingly intense fire of revenge burning in the hearts of the Xiliang army.

The sound of the midnight clapper pierced the cowhide tent. Ma Teng clutched the wolf-tooth arrow Ma Chao had used as a child, his knuckles gleaming pale in the moonlight. The red silk wrapped around the shaft had faded and become brittle, yet it remained stubbornly fastened to the nock. It was as if he were still remembering that snowy night twenty years prior—six-year-old Ma Chao, holding this arrow, stumbled after the departing troops, vowing to shoot down the Xiongnu's banner for his father.

Footsteps rustled outside the tent. Li Ru, clutching a sheepskin map, entered, his robe still stained with wet dew. Since the Tianshui County rallied forces, the strategist had slept only two hours a day. His eye sockets were sunken, and even his voice was thick with nasal murmurs. "Ma Gong, today's victory is a great victory. I think Lü Bu's resistance has slackened. Tomorrow..."

"Sit down." Ma Teng suddenly interrupted him, pushing the warm wine jug towards him. Li Ru stood there in a daze as the candlelight flickered. This was the first time since Ma Chao's murder that Ma Teng had spoken to him in such a calm tone. The sudden change in Chang'an three months earlier had thwarted Li Ru's plans. With the loss of Xiliang's young master, the future was bleak.

"If Mengqi had listened to you earlier, he wouldn't have ended up like this." Ma Teng stroked the wine pot, the Taotie pattern on the pot body hurting his palm. "Now, with you around, it feels like he's still in the tent discussing matters." Li Ru's Adam's apple rolled violently, and he was completely unaware of the scalding wine spilling on his clothes. Suddenly, he started coughing violently, and the blood that seeped from between his fingers quietly dyed the Chang'an symbol on the map red.

Li Ru's choked blood splattered onto the sheepskin map, leaving a dark crimson mark that smeared the outline of Chang'an City. Ma Teng abruptly stood up and gently patted his violently heaving back with his broad palm. His fingertips touched the jagged spine, like pressing on a piece of withered old wood. The candlelight cast their shadows on the tent, and in a trance, it overlapped with the scene of their military consultation in Dong Zhuo's tent twenty years ago.

"Wenyou," Ma Teng's voice suddenly became hoarse. "Back then, you and I served under Lord Dong together. After his death, it was you who, against all odds, persuaded the Dong army to ally with Meng Qi. Over the years, you've been so meticulous in your planning that even the Xiongnu royal court fell prey to your schemes..." The trembling under his palm gradually subsided, but Li Ru suddenly curled up, a suppressed sob emanating from his throat.