Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

Zhang Gui's throat tightened as he stared at the burning light in his father's eyes, his lips moving but no words coming out. Seeing him frozen in place, Zhang Lu's brows furrowed in thought, "What are you still standing there for?" With a flick of his sleeve, the talisman paper on the table rustled.

He hunched his neck, turned around, and walked unsteadily toward the backyard. The morning light slanted through the porch, casting a shadow that sometimes grew longer and sometimes shorter. Last night, his father had been tossing and turning in his bed, sighing in the middle of the night, yet now he seemed like a completely different person.

In the inner chamber, his mother was looking at a bronze mirror, pinning a flower in her hair. Seeing his panicked expression, her jade hairpin clattered against her dressing table with a clang: "Why are you so flustered so early in the morning? Your father last night..."

"Mother," Zhang Gui swallowed and clutched his sleeves, "Father wants the birth dates of Sister Qiying and Sister Fubao."

Before she could finish her words, the celadon bottle beside the bronze mirror suddenly tipped over, and rouge water swished down the dressing table. Her mother abruptly stood up, her hairpins and rings clattering together in a chaotic manner. "Didn't you say you were going to welcome Zhen Mi? Why are you..."

A sudden breeze blew through the courtyard, rustling the bamboo curtains. Zhang Gui stared at his mother's face, which had suddenly turned pale, his Adam's apple rolling, unable to speak. Last night, his husband tossed and turned in the backyard, unable to sleep. When he finally fell asleep, he muttered about "great cause" and "heaven's will," and just before dawn, he laughed out loud.

As soon as the day broke, he hurried out of the backyard to change his clothes. Now thinking about it, the laughter hidden in that was more than just ordinary joy.

Madam Zhang slammed her handkerchief onto the dressing table, causing her rouge box to bounce. "Is your father crazy?" She paced back and forth, her skirt sweeping across the rouge-strewn floor, leaving a trail of dark red footprints. "Who was he with last night?"

"It's Li Ru from Xiliang..." Zhang Gui shrank his neck and was interrupted by his mother's sharp voice before he could finish his words.

"That poisonous scholar?!" Madam Zhang stamped her feet anxiously, the pearl hairpins on her temples jingling. "What kind of magic potion did he give your father? Why did he want the engagement letters of our two daughters for no reason? Could it be..." She suddenly fell silent, looking out the window with a pale face.

Zhang Gui saw his mother's fingertips trembling, and hurriedly held her arm: "Mom, Dad is urging us..."

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" Madam Zhang shook his hand away, her eyes red. "Can't you just ask clearly? Who is Li Ru? Back then, even the princes of the world were schemed by him, and now..."

"I wanted to ask more questions," Zhang Gui said with a bitter face, remembering the bright look in his father's eyes when he woke up in the morning, "but he frowned, and I...how could I dare to say anything? Mother, please get the engagement letter quickly, so as not to miss out on such an important matter."

From the courtyard, the night watchman's clapperboard rang out, startling the parrots under the eaves. Madam Zhang stared at her disheveled makeup in the bronze mirror, then suddenly slumped down in her chair and tremblingly opened the sandalwood box. As the red silk-wrapped engagement letter was removed, her fingertips traced over her daughters' birth dates. A tear fell on the three characters "Zhang Qiying," smearing a tiny ink mark.

Zhang Gui, fearing his father's anger if he delayed any longer, snatched the engagement letter wrapped in red silk from his mother's hands, turned, and ran out. His wooden clogs clattered against the bluestone slabs, and behind him, his mother's sobbing voice called out, "Slow down! You're at least..."

Zhang's mother chased him to the gate, watching him disappear around the corner of the corridor. Her embroidered shoes stomped painfully against the threshold. She clutched her wrinkled handkerchief, her nails digging into her palms. Suddenly, she heard the maids' whispers from the inner courtyard, and her heart trembled violently.

"Hurry!" She grabbed a passing maid, the silver hairpin in her hair dazzling. "Invite both ladies here and tell them... tell them I have something urgent to tell you!"

Seeing her mistress's eyes flushed, the maid dared not ask further questions, and, lifting her skirt, ran to the garden. Zhang's mother leaned against the doorframe, panting heavily, her gaze fixed on the direction of the meeting room. The bronze bells on the eaves rang wildly in the wind, like mournful cries of death. She suddenly remembered her husband's laughter in her dream last night, and thinking about it now was even more disturbing than crying.

Zhang Gui, breathlessly, presented the engagement letter wrapped in red silk. Zhang Lu took it, his fingertips pale from the strain. As he turned, the hem of his robe whipped up a gust of wind, rustling the talisman paper on the table. Then, respectfully, he presented the engagement letter to Li Ru. "Sir, this is the birth date and horoscope of my daughter Qiying and Fu Bao. Please present it to the Prince of Liang as soon as possible."

Li Ru took it with a smile and tapped the Geng Tie lightly with his fingers, making a crisp sound.

Zhang Lu suddenly turned to look at Yang Bai, his eyes piercing. "General Yang, immediately bring the Hanzhong troop deployment, the city defense atlas, and the roster of generals at all levels." He paused, then tapped his fingertips heavily on the table, making the talisman paper rustle. "I want the most detailed version. Don't delay your important business."

Before Zhang Lu finished speaking, the hall suddenly fell silent. Yang Bai shook the teacup in his hand, and the warm tea splashed onto the blue bricks, leaving dark stains. Li Ru paused as he tapped the table, his gilded wine cup reflecting his slightly raised brow. "Master, what is this..."

"Since you are seeking the throne for the King of Liang, how dare I hide my secrets?" Zhang Lu stood up, his figure taller than usual beneath his dark Taoist robe. "Hanzhong's troop deployment, city defense maps, and generals' roster are all available for your review." He turned to look at Yang Bai, his gaze sharp as a knife. "What are you still standing there for? Bring it to me!"

Yang Bai's throat rolled over, and as he bowed and retreated, he knocked over the bronze lampstand behind him. Amidst the clanging sound, Li Ru watched the flickering fire in Zhang Lu's eyes, and suddenly remembered the man's trembling fingertips clutching the talisman last night—in just one night, the Hanzhong prefect had thrust all the city's secrets, along with his life and property, into his hands.

"Tianshi is so sincere," he put the engagement letter into his sleeve, a smile spreading across his eyes, "Prince Liang will not let you down."

Yang Song's face flushed with anxiety. His bony fingers clutched the hem of Zhang Lu's Taoist robe, pulling the cuffs askew. "My Lord!" He stole a glance at Li Ru's gloomy face, his Adam's apple rolling as he lowered his voice. "The city defense atlas is related to the survival of Hanzhong. I absolutely..."

"General Yang, why don't you hurry up!" Zhang Lu suddenly swung his sleeve, his dark Taoist robe brushing against the back of Yang Song's hand. Yang Bai was startled by the rebuke, and as he turned, the sword at his waist struck the door frame, making a harsh metallic sound.

Li Ru took a sip of tea, the heat blurring the cold light in his eyes. Yang Song plopped down on the bricks, resting his forehead on the ground. "Your Majesty, please understand. Hanzhong is only a remote place, and the military strength..."

"Don't blame me, sir." Before he could finish his words, Zhang Lu smiled and neatly arranged the talisman papers on the table. "Our Hanzhong soldiers haven't been in battle for a long time, and their equipment is outdated." He traced his fingertips over Yangping Pass on the map. "I ask the King of Liang to send a capable general to take over. When the Western Liang cavalry march south, Hanzhong will be the most stable granary."

Yang Song looked up suddenly, meeting Li Ru's suddenly bright gaze. The poison master slammed his teacup down on the table, its gilded base making a crisp sound. "The Heavenly Master truly understands justice! Once I write to the King of Liang, cavalry will enter Hanzhong within three days." He glanced at Yang Song, who was slumped on the ground, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "As for the city defense atlas..."

"Present it immediately." Zhang Lu bent down and helped Yang Song up, but his palm secretly pinched his arm, "Yang Beijia is also thinking about Hanzhong, but he doesn't know that Xiliang and my sect are one." When he let go of his hand, Yang Song staggered back half a step, full of confusion.

The hall was utterly silent, save for the clanging of bronze bells from the eaves. The civil and military officials exchanged bewilderment. The bamboo slips in the chief clerk's hands clattered to the ground, jarring the stillness. Yang Song slumped to the ground, watching Zhang Lu, in a casual conversation, hand over the lifeblood of Hanzhong. A sweet, fishy taste welled up in his throat—that was the city defense map they had painstakingly cultivated for years, the pass the soldiers had risked their lives to defend.

"My Lord!" someone shouted, their voice trembling. Some tried to intervene, but were pinned to their feet by the gaze of the armored soldiers behind Li Ru. Zhang Lu, seemingly oblivious, personally handed the freshly copied list to Li Ru, his sleeve brushing across the wet ink on the desk. "Sir, please see this. There are 30,000 troops stationed at Yangping Pass, with enough food and fodder to last for six months."

The old soldier stumbled, holding onto a pillar, tears welling in his cloudy eyes. He recalled the time when Zhang Lu's father had deployed defenses here, and how that city defense map was now about to fall into the hands of the people of Xiliang.

"Don't panic, everyone." Zhang Lu glanced at the crowd, his gaze landing on Yang Song's pale face. "The Western Liang cavalry entered Hanzhong to protect our followers." He raised his hand and gently stroked the talisman on the table. "When the King of Liang pacifies the Central Plains, the Five Pecks of Rice Sect will naturally..."

At that moment, the front hall screen suddenly creaked, and Madam Zhang Lu rushed in, her skirt fluttering, followed by her two daughters with slightly disheveled hair. Zhang Fubao rushed before his mother, his eyes wide, and shouted, "Daddy!" This delicate shout abruptly interrupted the conversation between Zhang Lu and Li Ru.

Li Ru saw this and quickly put away his feather fan, a smile on his face: "Oh, but Miss Fu Bao is here?" He turned sideways and pointed to the girl beside him, "This is Miss Qi Ying." Zhang Lu stroked his beard and nodded: "It's my little daughters Fu Bao and Qi Ying." Before he finished speaking, his face darkened and his eyes swept over the corners of his two daughters' clothes: "Have you forgotten the rules I taught you every day? Why don't you greet the distinguished guests first?"

Madam Zhang's hand, clutching the handkerchief, trembled slightly, and her eyes instantly reddened. "Master..." She stumbled half a step, her embroidered shoes scraping against the blue bricks. "Why do you want engagement letters from two maids?" As soon as she finished speaking, the whispers of the staff in the hall abruptly stopped. Everyone looked at Zhang Lu, who sat in the main seat with an unpredictable expression. The candlelight cast a heavy shadow between his brows. Since the Xiliang envoys set foot in Hanzhong, this Hanzhong prefect had made too many puzzling decisions.

Zhang Qiying bit her lower lip, the silver bracelet on her wrist quivering and jingling. She stole a glance at her mother's pale face, and a sudden thought struck her: Today, the Xiliang people had asked for a map of the Hanzhong border defenses, and now they were asking for her daughter's birth certificate... Could they be emulating Liu Yan's practice of marrying off his daughters to win over the gentry? At this thought, Zhang Qiying clenched the flute in her sleeve, her knuckles turning white.

Zhang Qiying thought to herself, her younger sister, Fu Bao, was a saint within the sect, raised with pampering, even having dozens of nuns attend her daily morning prayers. She was merely the eldest daughter, hidden behind her younger sister's halo.

Listening to her mother's suppressed sobs, her father's deliberate response became clearer and clearer in her eyes.

"Daddy, if you really need it..." She took a half step forward, her skirt brushing against the cold blue bricks, "If Xiliang really needs a marriage alliance, I'll beg you to do it." Before she finished her words, Madam Zhang rushed over and grabbed her hand. The warmth of her palm made her eyes sore. Fu Bao stamped her feet anxiously: "Sister!"

Zhang Qiying looked at her father's suddenly tense jawline and straightened her back. "I'll leave my younger sister to be your filial son." The candlelight made her eyes water, but they refused to fade.