February and March were destined to be months of ceaseless motion.
Zhang Fei, Huang Zhong, and Guan Yu led repeated expeditions, sweeping through every major and minor bandit stronghold within the territory. With the aid of sand-table simulations, the hideouts of the mountain bands across the four commanderies of Jing Province were laid bare, their so-called "safe havens" exposed as if under direct sunlight.
Once a camp was broken, the three generals followed the method Jiangdong had long used against the Shanyue: seize the able-bodied, put them through hard labor and drilling, grind the brigand habits out of them, and then fold them into the army as new recruits.
Among the three, the one who threw himself into this work with the greatest fervor was, unexpectedly, Huang Zhong.
After witnessing his own future feats on the luminous screen, the old general's entire way of thinking had been overturned.
Why wait for years until Mount Dingjun?
If war was inevitable, then why not seize glory sooner?
He was determined to build his own troops as quickly as possible. At the latest, by next year, the realm would surely erupt into major conflict. Whether it was assisting the lord in pacifying Yi Province, contesting the Central Plains, or even—one day—marching beyond the borders to subdue foreign tribes, Huang Zhong wanted no part in standing idle again.
Looking back, he regretted every wasted year he had spent drifting in Jing Province.
And stirred on by Zhang Fei's incessant talk, a single word echoed restlessly in his heart:
The Martial Temple.
His intuition was not unfounded.
In March, Zhou Gongjin—stationed across the river in Jiangling—sent an invitation, asking Liu Bei to come and meet.
But Liu Bei was not foolish.
Between the revelations of the luminous screen and Lu Su's earlier warnings, everyone understood one thing clearly: Zhou Yu was absolutely capable of seizing Liu Bei on the spot if the opportunity arose.
Moreover, Zhou Yu had been Sun Ce's entrusted minister before his death. If matters turned ugly and Zhou Yu truly acted against Liu Bei, what could Sun Quan even say?
Attending alone would have been sheer recklessness.
In the end, the two sides agreed to meet aboard small boats, anchored midstream.
"Zhou Gongjin proposes a joint campaign against Yi Province."
That was the message Liu Bei brought back.
"If it were the invitation Sun Quan would issue several years from now, as shown by the luminous screen," Zhuge Liang said while shaking his head, "there might be room to suspect a 'borrow-the-road-to-destroy-the-state' scheme."
"But this invitation from Zhou Gongjin?" He smiled faintly. "Its malice is unmistakable."
The generals were unanimous.
"If we accept this," someone said bluntly, "we'll die in Yi Province without even knowing how."
The answer was obvious.
The invitation was refused.
Yi Province would be taken—but by their own hands.
"I rejected him on the spot," Liu Bei said, brow furrowed as he recalled the meeting. "Zhou Gongjin never showed himself. He remained hidden inside the cabin, speaking only through messengers across the boats. He may already be gravely ill."
The room fell quiet.
A peerless talent, reduced to a sickbed. No matter how one looked at it, it was a bitter end.
"And even so, he still plots for Sun Quan," Zhang Fei said, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of admiration. "That kind of loyalty… my big brother-in-law's family must have ancestral graves blazing with incense smoke."
The others nodded.
The memory of Xiaoyao Ford was still fresh, still raw.
Zhou Yu had exhausted himself raising an army of a hundred thousand for Jiangdong—only for it all to end by making a certain Zhang "Eight Hundred" famous across the ages.
One could only wonder what Zhou Gongjin would think, witnessing such a scene from the underworld.
After the meeting dispersed, it was time—as always—for Zhuge Liang's private counsel with Liu Bei.
"If we are to take Yi Province," Zhuge Liang said, pointing to the map, "we must pass through Yufu. And to reach Yufu, we must first control Nan Commandery."
His finger traced the route cleanly and clearly.
"But Nan Commandery is currently held by Zhou Gongjin…" Liu Bei murmured. Then his eyes lit up. "Military Advisor—do you already have a plan?"
Zhuge Liang smiled and nodded.
"Have my lord write a letter to Sun Quan," he said. "In it, include three points."
"First: express concern that the Grand Commander's illness has rendered him unable to manage affairs, leaving Nan Commandery vulnerable to a Cao Wei incursion."
"Second: emphasize that Jiangling and Gong'an are as lips and teeth—if one falls, the other cannot stand. We therefore request to temporarily take over Jiangling's defenses."
"Third: assure Sun Quan that the Grand Commander should focus on recovery. When Eastern Wu marches on Hefei, seizes Shouchun, and controls the Huai River to threaten Xuchang, we will press hard against Xiangfan in coordination."
Liu Bei understood at once.
"I'll write it immediately."
Then he hesitated. "Will Sun Quan believe this?"
Zhuge Liang chuckled.
"Sun Quan does not truly believe my lord."
"But neither does he fully believe his Grand Commander."
April only grew more demanding.
Zhuge Liang was now juggling supply distribution, tax assessments, and—this year especially—personally instructing the people in improved rice cultivation based on Tiangong Kaiwu.
"My lord, take a look—how are these papers?"
Huang Yueying arrived carrying a stack of newly made sheets, all differing in size and texture.
Under a simple canopy by the fields, Zhuge Liang worked alongside Jiang Wan while keeping a watchful eye on the rice seedlings. Though the work could have been delegated, he refused to entrust it entirely to others.
Jiang Wan, sitting nearby, wore the expression of a man whose spirit had quietly departed.
Not only had he lost his comfortable office, but the past two months had given him more work than the previous half year combined.
Seeing the papers, he lifted his head in curiosity.
The papermaking workshop had produced many trial batches lately—each with flaws, but all undeniably more convenient than bamboo slips or wooden tablets.
Zhuge Liang accepted them eagerly and immediately noticed the top sheet.
Its thickness was even, the texture dense, with a faint luster. When he rubbed it between his fingers, it felt smooth, yet retained a soft, whispering grain.
"My lady's papermaking skill is truly superb," he praised.
Huang Yueying smiled without speaking and gestured for him to look further.
Zhuge Liang slid the top sheet aside—quietly placing the Zuo Bo paper beneath his desk, clearly intending to keep it for himself—and saw the next one.
Whiter. Softer. More resilient.
By instinct alone, he judged it superior even to Zuo Bo paper.
"You found a substitute for mulberry bark?" he asked at once.
The luminous screen had emphasized mulberry bark as the key ingredient, but the rest required experimentation. The greater problem was cost: mulberry trees fed silkworms, their bark was medicinal—using them for paper doubled expenses.
Huang Yueying nodded.
"Have you heard of the red mulberry?"
"Red mulberry?" Zhuge Liang paced a step. "The gu tree?"
"The mulberry bears dark fruit; the gu tree bears red. Its leaves can also feed silkworms—though the silk is inferior. In northern Jing, people plant it mainly for the fruit."
"My husband is learned," she said with a smile. "Paper made from its bark costs only thirty percent of Zuo Bo paper."
Thirty percent.
"And that's not all."
She produced a freshly bound book, its cover stamped in seal script: Six Secret Teachings.
Zhuge Liang flipped through it and nodded in satisfaction.
"Printing truly changes everything."
Once the principle was understood, it was simple—enlarge a seal, multiply the characters, ink it, and press.
And printing wasn't limited to books. Decrees, ledgers, agricultural guides—everything could use it.
Even Tiangong Kaiwu itself must have been printed this way.
"My lady's work benefits all under Heaven," Zhuge Liang said earnestly.
With papermaking and printing perfected, bamboo slips and wooden tablets could finally be consigned to history.