Jingzhou, early November.
As the dry season edged closer, Yue Jin's scouts grew braver—or perhaps more foolish—by the day, probing farther and farther south. It was only then that the defenders of Dangyang belatedly realized an uncomfortable truth:
Their general was not merely old.
He was old and terrifying.
General Huang's hair had gone gray long ago, but his spirit stubbornly refused to follow. He still ate a full dou of rice and ten catties of meat per meal, and could draw a heavy bow while mounted without so much as grunting. Whether this was discipline, talent, or sheer spite toward younger men remained unclear.
Every few days, he personally led troops out of the city to "clean up the neighborhood."
Scouts who failed to retreat in time often discovered—briefly and fatally—that General Huang's arrows had excellent aim and very poor manners.
Thus, although scouting attempts increased, the region around Dangyang somehow became the safest place in Jingzhou.
For the common folk, life barely changed. Aside from that nightmare march of the great army months earlier, things were oddly peaceful. Rice and cloth prices even dropped a little, and the newly arrived General Huang spoke kindly and smiled often—right up until he picked up his bow.
With enemy scouts too afraid to approach, the gate guards grew bored. Very bored.
Leaning against their spears, two soldiers chatted.
"Hey, you hear? They say General Zhang got sentenced to forced labor."
"That's ancient news," the other scoffed. "I heard he lost command entirely! The Lord even cut his robe and severed brotherhood!"
"Oh? Before you transferred to General Huang's unit, were you—"
"I served under Zhang Fei."
"…Ah."
Everything suddenly made sense.
None of this, however, affected Zhang Fei in the slightest.
Because at that exact moment, Zhang Fei—drenched in sweat, muscles bulging, beard plastered to his chest—was pushing a small cart down the road like a furious ox with a personal grudge.
Naturally, he had not been sentenced to labor. Nor had Liu Bei cut off their brotherhood.
After the light-screen ended, Guan Yu, Wei Yan, and Zhao Yun returned to their posts immediately. Zhang Fei, unfortunately, discovered that Linju lacked sufficient grain and fodder and went to Liu Bei to requisition supplies.
The requisition itself went flawlessly.
The aftermath did not.
After loading the grain, Liu Bei coughed awkwardly and explained that they were short on pack horses. One cart would have to be pushed back to Linju.
By Zhang Fei.
"If I have to push it, I'll push it," Zhang Fei declared.
From Gong'an to Linju was only two hundred li.
Thus began Zhang Fei's intimate relationship with what the Military Advisor proudly called his "latest invention." The wheelbarrow was piled obscenely high with grain, stacked with the kind of optimism that ignored physics entirely.
Zhang Fei leaned into it, panting like a warhorse that had been tricked into farming.
High atop Gong'an's city wall, Kongming observed calmly, notebook in hand, expression serene.
"It appears the 'Wooden Ox' still requires improvement," he said thoughtfully. "Yide is struggling more than anticipated."
"If the load is stacked too high, it destabilizes the center of gravity. Perhaps a rear brace would help."
Beside him, Liu Bei watched in silence, face tight, heart aching just a little.
"If the Lord feels bad," Kongming added lightly, "why not give him two more horses?"
"That mouth of his…" Liu Bei sighed. "Let him suffer a bit."
He turned away before the guilt won and descended the wall with Kongming.
Walking through Gong'an's streets, they passed vendors shouting prices with genuine enthusiasm. The people looked better than they had in a long time. At the very least, they were no longer hungry.
Liu Bei felt satisfied.
Unfortunately, Zhang Fei had left him a different kind of burden.
Back at the government office, Liu Bei stared at the young man before him and immediately felt a headache forming. The youth had sun-darkened skin, callused hands, and the unmistakable look of someone who had grown up on boats rather than land.
"My Lord!" the youth bowed deeply.
"I am not," Liu Bei said quickly, waving his hands, "your lord."
Zhang Fei's problem. Definitely Zhang Fei's problem.
Kongming stood to the side, smiling like a man watching a flood approach someone else's house.
"Gan Gui," he asked mildly, "do you still refuse to return to Jiangdong?"
Gan Gui lifted his chin. "I want to follow Lord Xuande back to my hometown."
"But your hometown is Jiangdong," Kongming said patiently. "You said so yourself. You're Gan Ning's son."
Gan Gui shook his head fiercely. "My father always said: in life, remember you're a man of Linjiang. In death, your soul must follow the river home first."
Kongming tried again. "Lord Xuande governs Jingzhou. Not Yizhou. He cannot take you back."
"You're lying!" Gan Gui snapped. "General Zhang said the Governor of Jingzhou will eventually become Governor of Yizhou!"
At that moment, whatever lingering affection Liu Bei had for Zhang Fei quietly died.
He pointed at the porch floor and sat down, dignity fully abandoned.
"Gan Gui," he said, "Yide mentioned you admitted to running away?"
Gan Gui nodded proudly. "When Commander Zhou died… my father cried that night. Then he drank for days."
"He said that in Jiangdong, only Commander Zhou could help him return home. Now that he's gone, he said we'd both be wandering ghosts after death."
"I didn't accept that. He used to tell me stories about leading the River Bells when he was young. I thought I could do the same. Then General Zhang caught me."
His voice drooped at the end.
Liu Bei nodded. "So when Jian Yong said he was from Yizhou, you refused to stop even harder."
Liu Bei knew the history. Gan Ning's rebellion against Liu Zhang had failed, and he'd been wandering ever since. Jian Yong himself had nearly died because of that old grudge.
"Why doesn't your father just apologize to Liu Zhang?" Liu Bei suggested. "Zhao Wei is gone. He could return as a deputy official."
Gan Gui's eyes widened. Then he shouted, shaking his head violently:
"My father refused to bow when he was young! If you make him bow now, he'd rather be a wandering ghost forever!"
Liu Bei fell silent, thoughts colliding noisily.
"My Lord!" Gan Gui suddenly shouted. "I know how to train a navy!"
Of course you do, Liu Bei thought tiredly.
"I can help General Guan!" Gan Gui pounded his chest. "I can even bring all eight hundred of my father's followers!"
That one hit.
Guan Yu had complained repeatedly: their "navy" was closer to organized piracy. Mi Zhu's investigations into Jiangdong's naval methods had produced nothing but expenses.
"As long as you take us home," Gan Gui declared, "you are our Lord!"
Liu Bei clasped his hands tightly. "Gaining you today is better than gaining a hundred thousand troops!"
Gan Gui laughed inwardly. Old man, just wait. I found a better Lord.
Kongming had already slipped away. This outcome had been obvious from the beginning.
Zhou Yu's death was a stone dropped into a lake. Gan Ning's frustration was only one ripple.
With Zhou Yu gone, Gan Ning was drifting without anchor. Even if he learned his son had joined Liu Bei, he would accept it in silence.
What Kongming wondered was something else entirely:
What fate had Gan Gui met in the original history?
Shaking the thought away, Kongming entered a nearby courtyard. The sharp stench of medicinal herbs hit him like a slap.
Smiling broadly, he called out, "Divine Physician Zhang—how is the medicinal powder coming along?"