The kind, stout merchant arranged a clean, enclosed courtyard for Jian Yong and his party to rest.
"If there is nothing urgent," the friendly fat man said with rare solemnity, "please do not step outside after dusk."
Jian Yong laughed heartily. "You make it sound terrifying. Is there some man-eating demon prowling Chang'an?"
The merchant did not smile.
As he turned to leave, his low voice was carried back by the cold wind:
"To eat a man… why would one need a demon?"
Jian Yong froze, the laughter dying in his throat.
They remained there for three days.
Meals arrived regularly, hot and sufficient. Jian Yong's group stayed indoors, deliberately reclusive, greedily savoring the rare peace after months of travel through war-torn lands.
On the fourth morning, Jian Yong opened his door and found the courtyard blanketed in silver.
Snow.
He rubbed his hands together, pressed them to his cheeks, and exhaled slowly. White mist curled into the air.
"It's snowing…"
With his hands clasped behind his back, he paced the yard, boots crunching softly. Despite everything, a faint smile crept onto his face.
Then came a knock.
After his guards confirmed the visitor, the gate opened to reveal the same round-faced merchant. The warmth was gone from his expression, replaced by deep, weary lines.
Jian Yong's heart sank.
"Many froze to death?"
The merchant nodded. He sat beneath the porch, staring vacantly at the falling snow.
Jian Yong joined him without speaking.
From experience, Jian Yong knew this pattern well. Every year, after the first snowfall, the number of frozen corpses multiplied. And now—layered atop war, famine, and displacement—even people as resilient as weeds could not survive being uprooted again and again.
"Lord Cao returned with his army last night," the merchant said quietly. "They will rest for a day, then head back to Ye."
He hesitated before continuing.
"I bribed a fellow townsman—a captain in Cao's army. He is returning to Xuchang, not Ye. We can travel with him for protection. He also mentioned… Lord Cao has dispatched—"
"Xiahou Yuan," Jian Yong said calmly.
The merchant stared at him in astonishment, then nodded.
"Indeed. Xiahou Yuan is to oversee Guanzhong. Lord Cao truly intends to occupy Chang'an. This place will be safe."
Jian Yong spoke without hesitation.
"Then please prepare dry rations. Tomorrow, I leave for Liang Province."
"The first snow has fallen," the merchant cautioned. "Will you not wait a little longer?"
Jian Yong looked westward.
"Ma Chao has just been defeated. Time does not wait."
Seeing his resolve, the merchant bowed.
"Then I wish the Master success. Clothing and rations will be ready tonight. The letters to Xuchang will be delivered personally."
Standing in the snow, the two men bowed to one another.
The merchant turned and left, never looking back.
The next morning, fine snow drifted through the air like ash.
Jian Yong waited until Cao Cao's main force departed. Only then did he don his leather hat and lead his party out through the West Gate.
Near the gate, bodies lay in rows—men, women, children.
The snow did not melt upon them.
It covered them gently, silently, like a final shroud.
Jian Yong glanced once more, tightened his hat, and said nothing.
The group vanished into wind and snow, heading west.
Eastern Wu: Suppressed Tension
In Dantu, Lu Su tossed Zhuge Liang's latest letter aside, irritation radiating from his entire body.
Aside from empty pleasantries, it was identical to every previous letter: urging him to care for his health.
Lu Su clenched his jaw.
Kongming—if you would simply speak plainly, why must I exhaust myself like this?
Since Eastern Wu's vague occupation of Zigui earlier in the year, intelligence on Yizhou had nearly vanished. At first, Lu Su accepted Kongming's explanations. But reports from Jingzhou told a different story—troops moving west, supplies flowing from Public Safety and Jiangling.
Something was wrong.
Zigui's checkpoint blocked all spies. Lu Su could only send a sharply worded letter and dispatch men through the treacherous Zangke Road from Jiaozhou.
Kongming's replies arrived swiftly.
Their contents were useless.
He spoke of Jingzhou, Eastern Wu, Xuzhou—even offered advice on attacking Hefei. Yet he never mentioned Yizhou. As for Zangke… if news returned by spring, it would be miraculous.
Regarding Lü Meng's unauthorized excursion, Lu Su was furious—but blood had already been spilled. At the very least, he expected results.
Instead, the report could be summarized in four words:
Powerful Giant Crossbows.
If Lü Meng were not Sun Quan's favored general—and if he had not been wounded—Lu Su would have thrown the report into his face.
Is this what all that "learning" amounted to?
Bu Zhi entered quietly.
"General, the Lord has arrived in Dantu."
Lu Su was startled.
"No prior notice?"
Bu Zhi shook his head.
Lu Su gathered his documents at once.
Sun Quan had a palace in Dantu. Lu Su knew the way by heart.
On the steps, he passed Lü Meng exiting. The two exchanged a brief nod.
Lu Su's head throbbed.
I miss Zhou Yu.
"Zijing!" Sun Quan laughed, grabbing Lu Su's arm. "I was just about to summon you."
Lu Su sighed inwardly.
"Does the Lord no longer trust me?"
Sun Quan froze.
"Why would you say that?"
"If the Lord has needs, speak them openly," Lu Su said carefully. "I will plan accordingly."
Sun Quan's embarrassment turned to anger.
"Liu Bei took Yizhou without a word! He's established in Jiangzhou and still refuses to inform us. Faithless! Why should I honor him?"
Lu Su asked calmly,
"Does Liu Bei consider himself your subordinate?"
Silence.
"How did the Lord learn of Jiangzhou?" Lu Su pressed.
Sun Quan gestured to the desk.
Lu Su picked up the letter. Fine handwriting.
The contents were brief and sharp:
Jingzhou is empty; the main force is in Yizhou.
Only Guan Yu remains.
Liu Bei meets officials every three months, without fail.
Lu Su frowned. The hand did not belong to Mi Fang.
"Liu Bei fails to recognize talent," Sun Quan sneered. "No wonder his people look toward us. Zijing—can he take all of Yizhou?"
"Liu Zhang is weak," Lu Su replied immediately. "But he commands numbers. If pressed, he may ally with Zhang Lu. Shu will take at least three years."
"And when will Liu Bei finish?"
"Not for another year."
Lu Su then changed tack.
"Did Lü Meng advise attacking Jiangling?"
Sun Quan turned away.
"That would be disastrous," Lu Su said firmly. "We would trap Liu Bei without weakening him—creating a permanent enemy. To destroy Cao Cao, we still need Zhang Fei's valor and Zhuge's wisdom."
Sun Quan hesitated.
"The iron-working methods of Jingzhou would benefit us."
Lu Su nodded. He understood at last.
"Before month's end, they will be delivered."
Sun Quan agreed.
Returning to his office, Lu Su received another letter.
"From Guan Yu."
Lu Su read it once and smiled thinly.
"Draft a reply. I accept the Single-Sword Meeting."
Baishui Pass: Southward Movement
November arrived. Cold crept into Baishui Pass.
Liu Feng sat in darkness, waiting for orders.
Mi Fang whispered irritably,
"Ma the Deserter—if you plan to run, hide now."
Ma Su snorted.
"You wrote letters begging your brother," Ma Su shot back. "I didn't."
Silence.
"If I die," Mi Fang muttered, "my brother might finally relax."
Liu Feng snapped,
"Enough."
A shout rang out:
"Assemble! The army marches for Hanzhong!"