Every time he traveled, Kongming found himself especially envious of later generations.
In particular, that endlessly repeated marvel—supposedly, a journey from Chengdu to Chang'an that took only six hours by high-speed rail.
After receiving word from his lord and Shiyuan, Kongming set out from Jiangling together with Sun Qian, Mi Zhu, and two thousand craftsmen, heading west into Shu.
Sometimes they walked.
Sometimes they rode sorry packhorses.
Sometimes they took boats upstream.
Only as mid-October approached did Kongming finally arrive in Chengdu.
"In the Longzhong Plan, I praised Yi Province as a land of fertile plains and heavenly abundance," Kongming said softly, "yet this is my first time seeing it with my own eyes."
Standing atop the city wall, he gazed toward the distant plains, feeling the land's climate and customs.
There was regret in his voice.
"Chengdu's food… differs only slightly from Jingzhou. Much is the same."
Pang Tong, standing beside him, grew curious.
"What did Kongming expect Chengdu's cuisine to be like?"
Kongming's face lit with anticipation. He recalled a fleeting image he had once glimpsed—long ago—when watching a later-age program about the Shrine of the Marquis of Wu.
He described it with conviction:
"A pot brimming with red oil, ingredients rising and sinking, steam rolling upward. Flavors fierce and numbing. The diner drenched in sweat."
Pang Tong shook his head, convinced Kongming's illness had worsened.
Later-age Chengdu and present-day Chengdu—how could they be the same thing?
Not to mention: later-age Chengdu had high-speed rail. Present Chengdu jolted your backside even in an ox cart.
A smile crept onto Pang Tong's face.
"Fortunately, we have policies left behind by the Chancellor Zhuge of history to consult. The Dujiangyan administration, the Brocade Office—both are already established. Kongming must work hard. You can't let that Chancellor outshine you."
Kongming shook his head.
Are you even speaking like a human being?
"The lord has already shown me the treasury Liu Zhang left behind," Kongming replied calmly. "There are still sufficient funds. They will be put to use here in Chengdu. Gongyou must conscript laborers to repair the city's straight roads, restore canals, construct new water-powered workshops, and expand iron smelting. All of it requires money."
As they spoke, Sun Qian could be seen in the distance, leading soldiers and civilians alike, tools in hand, repairing Chengdu's broken roads.
The townsfolk gathered curiously to watch.
Sun Qian took the opportunity to explain matters to them—though the words could not be heard from afar, one could guess it was something along the lines of "work gets paid."
At this moment, someone came to report that a Yi Province scholar had come to pay a visit.
Kongming accepted the calling card and smiled.
"Shiyuan, would you care to meet him with me?"
Pang Tong was intrigued. With Yi Province already taken, things were no longer urgent.
As for governance—Kongming's policies from the light screen had already been fully adopted and issued. Results would take time.
So Pang Tong was, for once, quite idle.
"Is he a great talent?" Pang Tong asked.
Kongming tucked the card into his sleeve and smiled mysteriously.
"You'll know when we arrive."
They descended the city wall, detoured around torn-up roads, threaded through narrow alleys, leapt over a foul-smelling ditch, and finally arrived at the rear gate of the grand government compound.
Passing through gate after gate, Pang Tong eventually saw a figure in loose robes, sleeves wide.
The man turned.
He had narrow eyes and a pair of mustaches beneath his upper lip—someone who looked difficult to converse with.
"Fa Zheng of Fufeng," the man said evenly. "Greetings to Military Advisor Zhuge."
Before Kongming could respond, Pang Tong blurted out:
"You're Fa Xiaozhi?"
Fa Zheng glanced oddly at this rather plain-looking man, then turned back to Kongming and said seriously:
"I heard days ago that Military Advisor Zhuge had arrived. Today, I came specifically to pay my respects."
Earlier, when Jian Yong passed through Yi Province, Fa Zheng had spoken with him at length. He had already learned that among Imperial Uncle Liu's subordinates, the most valued was Military Advisor Zhuge.
Recently, Imperial Uncle Liu had been surrounded by great Yi Province clans. Unable to insert himself, Fa Zheng chose instead to approach Zhuge Liang directly.
"I have long heard of Xiaozhi's talents," Kongming said, intending to act decisively. "Why not come with me to meet the lord—"
"Hold it!"
Pang Tong shouted.
The smile that had just appeared on Fa Zheng's face froze.
And who are you?
Pang Tong circled Fa Zheng twice, his gaze sharp and probing.
"What post did you hold previously? What merits do you have?"
Fa Zheng answered stiffly:
"I was formerly magistrate of Xindu County."
Pang Tong pressed on.
"How old are you?"
Fa Zheng felt increasingly baffled.
"Born in the fifth year of Xiping."
Pang Tong calculated silently.
Three years older than me. No merits. No reputation. And this time I didn't suffer a stray arrow—so what am I afraid of?
With heroic gusto, Pang Tong swept his hand outward.
"Xiaozhi, why not assist me in accomplishing our lord's plan for Hanzhong!"
Fa Zheng said nothing, but his eyes plainly asked one question:
Who are you?
Kongming laughed and interjected:
"This is Pang Tong of Jingzhou—known as the 'Young Phoenix,' a man of world-aiding talent."
"The entire Yi Province strategy came from his hand."
Fa Zheng's expression instantly turned solemn.
While I was still worrying over the gains and losses of a county magistrate, this man had already plotted the taking of an entire province.
"How could I refuse to give my life in service?" Fa Zheng said without hesitation. Establishing merit would also give him something to present to his lord.
Almost simultaneously, elsewhere in the vast government compound, Liu Bei was holding Zhang Song's hands, speaking warmly.
"To have the chance to serve you, Duke Xuande—this life of mine has no regrets," Zhang Song said with emotion.
He recalled their meeting a year prior, when he had intended to act as an inside agent to help Liu Bei take Yi Province.
Who could have imagined that in barely a year, they would speak again—here?
"If taking Chengdu required Zi Qiao to betray his integrity, then even victory would not sit well with me," Liu Bei said lightly, steering the topic away.
"However, another great Yi Province talent, Liu Zichu, has yet to join us. This remains a regret. I ask Zi Qiao to make a trip on my behalf."
Zhang Song agreed, though with some concern.
"Liu Zichu previously remonstrated several times with General Zhenwei. After you entered Yi Province, he claimed illness and no longer appeared publicly. I fear—"
Liu Bei shook his head.
"Take these two letters written by the Military Advisor: 'A Discussion on the Wuzhu Coin Standard' and 'A Brief Overview of Currency Warfare.' Deliver them to him. That will suffice."
Watching Zhang Song depart, Liu Bei suddenly thought of another great talent of Yi Province.
Where is Fa Xiaozhi? Why hasn't he come, even after so many days in Chengdu?
While all of Chengdu bustled, Jian Yong had already left Yi Province, carrying a letter jointly written by Liu Bei, Pang Tong, and Zhuge Liang.
Persuading Liu Zhang to surrender was not, in Jian Yong's eyes, a particularly glorious achievement.
Thus, he declined his lord's reward and set off with the letter toward Yong and Liang Provinces—on one hand to meet Ma Chao again, and on the other to have the letter delivered from Guanzhong to Xuchang.
Sending it from Jiangling would have been closer, but after the fires of Red Cliffs and Yue Jin's defeat, Jingxiang had become completely cut off.
The route from Yi Province to Guanzhong was difficult, but Jian Yong knew where his talents lay—and accepted the hardship gladly.
Disguised as a merchant, riding a packhorse, Jian Yong even pulled out a small notebook and began roughly recording what he saw along the way with a hard pen.
Jian Xianhe was no historian.
But if it came to seeing much of the world, traveling north and south—he ranked high.
Leaving behind records of contemporary customs was surely better than being remembered in history only for a few humorous anecdotes.
Zhao A ultimately did not become a soldier—just as Elder Li had advised.
With both parents dead and no wife, as long as he farmed diligently for a few more years, money would not be an issue.
With money, life became easy. Why suffer in the army?
Elder Li's words were usually sound, so Zhao A poured all his effort into his unused fields.
Until one day in October, while bent over weeding, he noticed a stranger standing in the neighboring field.
"Are you Elder Li's new hired hand?" Zhao A asked cautiously.
"He sold the land to me," the man replied, surveying the fields with satisfaction.
"What?" Zhao A was stunned. "Without land, how will Elder Li live?"
The man said enviously:
"Elder Li had considerable assets. I hear he sold his land and house in Zigui, bought a small boat, and went to Chengdu."
Zhao A stood dumbstruck in the field, eyes vacant, grief welling up like that of an abandoned child.
His first impulse was to sell his own land and go to Chengdu as well.
But he stopped himself quickly.
Elder Li had assets. What did he have? Just that one jar of coins?
Zhao A had been to Jiangling. He knew that his prized jar of money was nothing there.
Standing in his field, Zhao A looked around in confusion.
Life had finally improved—so why had Elder Li left?
Yet deep down, Zhao A understood.
After seeing Jiangling, he knew Zigui truly wasn't a good place.
Or… should I try my luck in Jiangling?
The thought took root. Suddenly, farming felt utterly meaningless.
Liu Bei's capture of Chengdu involved no bloodshed—one could even call it gentle as a spring breeze.
Yet the great clans of Chengdu attached themselves wholeheartedly.
This was, of course, entirely because Liu Bei was famed for his benevolence, and the great families trusted this Imperial Uncle with all their hearts.
It was definitely not because the silver-armored General Zhao had stationed over ten thousand troops outside Chengdu—
Nor because of those several hundred cavalrymen the people of Shu had never seen before.
Word of the north spread slowly through common talk.
Shu's famed generals Gao Pei and Yang Huai—one surrendered, one died. In mere days, Shu's strongest army, the Baishui Army, was annihilated.
If the fall of Baishui Pass could still be blamed on Gao Pei's courage without prudence—
Then Yang Huai's death beneath Langzhong left no room for excuses.
A famed general, commanding tens of thousands, had his formation pierced by just three hundred cavalry—and was beheaded in the midst of battle.
Had Shu grown so comfortable that it no longer recognized true heroes under Heaven?
Though they had never seen cavalry, Shu's great families understood one thing:
Cavalry excelled on plains.
Like the thirty-li plain south of Langzhong.
Like the thousand-li fertile fields west of Chengdu.
Backed by Zhao Yun's guarantee of "benevolence," Liu Bei's decrees in Shu were carried out as smoothly as moving one's arm.
The construction of water-powered workshops and the establishment of Dujiangyan officials drew cheers from the clans.
Restoring canals and roads within Chengdu saw the great families pouring in money and manpower to help Sun Qian speed progress.
Thus, when Liu Bei proposed compiling the Laws of Shu, though the clans harbored private objections, they could only grit their teeth and accept it—for the sake of Liu Bei's benevolence.
By the end of October, Liu Bei sat at the head of the government hall, feeling a surge of pride.
Zhuge Liang.
Pang Tong.
Mi Zhu.
Zhang Song.
Liu Ba.
Fa Zheng.
Only two generals were present:
Zhao Yun and Zhang Fei.
"By the calendar, Gongyan and Jichang should already be copying it," Liu Bei said with emotion.
Back in Jiangzhou, one could still return by river. Now—there was no leaving.
And then—
A light screen suddenly unfolded in midair.
Liu Bei froze on the spot.