Han Ji

Winter of the first year of Guanghe.

The cold wind whipped up dust from the pipes, swirling and hitting people's faces like knives cutting into their skin.

Lu Zhi and Liu Bei walked one after the other, followed by a dozen or so silent northern guards. Over their armor, they wore old, windproof robes, and ring-pommel swords hung from their saddlebags. Their eyes warily swept across the empty fields. In the middle of the procession, an inconspicuous blue-canopied carriage chugged along, its wheels carrying some local specialties brought back from Lujiang and several boxes of books.

four years ago.

Liu Bei gripped the reins of his red horse, the white breath it exhaled mingling with the wind and dissipating instantly. He gazed at the withered, yellow grass along the roadside, and the low, mud-brick houses in the distance, feeling as if he were waking from a long, bloody dream. In the dream, there was the blood on the walls of Shuxian County, the cold of Wild Boar Ridge, the fire of Eagle Beak Ravine, and Zhou Chong's head, hanging on the city gate tower, finally dried and shrunken by the wind.

Several scars on his right arm, from an old injury, reminded him that it wasn't a dream.

Lu Zhi coughed softly ahead, and Liu Bei urged his horse to catch up half a body length.

"We've entered Zhuojun territory." Lu Zhi didn't turn around, his voice slightly swaying in the wind. "You're very different this time you've returned compared to four years ago."

Liu Bei hummed in agreement. Things were different now. Four years ago, he was a young boy going to Luoyang to study, carrying a vague sense of anticipation and unease about the future. Now, he had returned as a nineteen-year-old man, having experienced the baptism of blood and fire on the battlefield, learned and handled the administration of Lujiang County, and had already secured the recommendation for him as a candidate for the civil service examination, a promise personally made by his teacher Lu Zhi.

There was also the extra white jade pendant in the sleeve pocket.

"It's actually a good thing that my teacher has been recalled to Luoyang," Liu Bei said. Although serving as an advisor to collate Confucian classics at the Eastern Pavilion was a sinecure, being in Luoyang meant being close to the center of power. His teacher was essentially the Han Dynasty's fire brigade; in a few years, when the Yellow Turban Rebellion broke out, he would be tasked with suppressing it. Staying by his teacher's side then would be a golden opportunity for him to demonstrate his abilities.

Lu Zhi snorted, his tone unreadable: "Luoyang is a treacherous place, perhaps no easier to navigate than Lujiang. However, after you're recommended for the civil service exam, you'll be staying in Luoyang as a court official. I'll be serving as a consultant in Luoyang; I can certainly help you there."

Just as winter arrived, an imperial edict reached Lujiang. The rebellion in Lujiang had been quelled, and Lu Zhi was summoned back to Luoyang to serve as an advisor in February of the following year.

He paused, turned his head to look at Liu Bei, and his gaze lingered for a moment on Liu Bei's much more mature face: "When you get home, spend some quality time with your mother. The official document for your recommendation should arrive in the prefecture by next spring at the latest. Just wait."

"The student understands."

Ahead, the outline of Zhuoxian's city wall appeared in the gray winter sky. It was not high, and even somewhat dilapidated, but it made Liu Bei's heart beat faster for no reason.

A crowd had gathered at the city gate. The leader, dressed in official robes, was accompanied by several subordinates, all eagerly awaiting their arrival.

He was the Prefect of Zhuojun.

Lu Zhi reined in his horse and raised his hand to stop the procession. He straightened his clothes, which had been blown askew by the wind, and the casualness that usually characterized the master-disciple relationship vanished from his face, replaced by the solemn demeanor of a high-ranking official returning to court to report on his duties.

The Prefect of Zhuojun hurried forward, cupped his hands in greeting, and smiled warmly: "Lord Lu! Several years have passed since we last met, and you are even more radiant than before! I have prepared a simple feast at my residence to welcome you back!"

Lu Zhi dismounted, greeted the prefect, and said in a calm tone, "I apologize for keeping you waiting, Your Excellency. I am here to visit my hometown. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"Lord Lu, what are you saying! Your return to Zhuojun is an honor for me and the entire prefecture!" The prefect smiled broadly, his gaze naturally falling on Liu Bei, who stood behind Lu Zhi, with a scrutinizing and perfectly timed look of surprise. "This must be... the Liu Jun who helped Lord Lu achieve great merit in Lujiang, right? Indeed, a handsome and talented young hero!"

Liu Bei bowed respectfully and said, "Liu Bei of Zhuojun greets Your Excellency."

"Excellent, excellent!" The prefect offered a gesture of support, his smile widening. "I have long admired Liu Jun's reputation for filial piety, and his literary talent is also remarkable. Now, with his added achievement in bringing peace to the country, he truly is a model of outstanding talent in Zhuojun! Lord Lu's guidance has been excellent!"

Lu Zhi smiled faintly, not responding to the question, and simply said, "My lord, please."

"Lord Lu, please!"

A group of people escorted Lu Zhi and the prefect into the city. Liu Bei followed half a step behind Lu Zhi, listening to the prefect and Lu Zhi's pleasantries, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

It was an exchange of favors. His teacher must have used something, or some favor, to secure the recommendation for him as a candidate for the Zhuojun civil service examination. The details weren't explained to him by his teacher, nor did he need to ask. He would simply keep this kindness in his heart.

At the banquet held at the prefectural governor's residence, he, as Lu Zhi's disciple and a candidate for officialdom from the prefecture, was naturally present. During the meal, amidst the clinking of glasses and witty remarks, he handled everything with grace, neither timid nor arrogant. After several rounds of drinks, Lu Zhi, citing travel fatigue, took his leave with Liu Bei. The prefect personally escorted them to the post station, offering further earnest instructions and assuring them that the prefectural government would do its utmost if needed.

Inside the inn room, the charcoal brazier crackled and popped as it burned.

Lu Zhi removed his outer robe, revealing a worn-out inner garment, sat behind the desk, and poured himself a cup of hot water.

"Everything is arranged." He looked at the flickering candlelight. "You can rest assured and wait at home for the imperial documents. I have my own plans for Luoyang."

"Thank you for your trouble, teacher," Liu Bei said in a low voice.

Lu Zhi waved his hand: "Go back and see your mother, she must be getting impatient."

Liu Bei stood up and bowed deeply.

When I pushed open that familiar, slightly chipped wooden door, it was already dark.

In the courtyard, a figure was sitting hunched over. Hearing the door open, he instinctively turned around.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment.

The figure froze abruptly, and the water glass in his hand fell to the ground with a clatter, spilling water everywhere.

"Bei...Bei'er?" The mother's voice trembled violently, almost incoherent. She staggered forward two steps, staring intently at the tall figure in the doorway in the dim light from inside the house.

Four years had passed since they last met. The hardships of the frontier had long since washed away the last vestiges of his youthful naiveté. He stood there, his shoulders and back straight, his eyes reflecting a settled calm, yet still carrying a trace of the battlefield's atmosphere that he hadn't completely concealed.

"Mother." Liu Bei quickly stepped forward and caught his mother before she knelt down. He touched his mother's thin, trembling shoulders.

Liu's mother raised her head, and turbid tears rolled down her deep wrinkles, landing coldly on the back of Liu Bei's hand. She reached out her rough hand, wanting to touch her son's face, but then stopped in mid-air, as if afraid of breaking something.

"I'm back... I'm really back..." she kept repeating, tears streaming down her face. "You've grown taller... and thinner... You must have suffered a lot out there, right?"

"No, I'm fine." Liu Bei grasped his mother's cold hand, his voice trembling slightly. "I've troubled you, Mother."

He helped his mother into the house, where an oil lamp cast a dim, warm glow, much more comfortably than outside. The familiar furnishings, bearing the marks of time, were almost exactly the same as when he left.

"I heard things aren't peaceful in Lujiang, the barbarians are really fierce... I'm worried about them every day..." Mother Liu pulled her son down to sit, her eyes glued to his face, as if trying to make up for the four years she'd missed. "Are you hurt? Huh?"