Su Lie held his sword in his left hand, standing on tiptoe as he craned his neck to watch the street performances across the road.
The tenth day of Yuan Zheng—the New Year holiday—did not mean everyone could rest.
Public order still had to be maintained.
But for Su Lie—better known to history as Su Dingfang—it made little difference.
Last year, he had still been a Zhechong Commander of Kuangdao Prefecture.
Four months ago, he was promoted to Left Martial Guard Colonel.
Two months after that, the appointment was changed again—to Left Guard Colonel.
At the time, Su Dingfang had been genuinely happy.
After being away from the battlefield for so long, the sudden return to combat made his blood boil.
In a surge of excitement, he personally led two hundred cavalrymen into battle—cutting through the enemy formation with remarkable results.
He could feel it clearly.
That blood which had long since cooled in his veins was warming again.
His heartbeat grew stronger, heavier, more forceful in his chest.
After breaking the enemy at Yin Mountain and escorting prisoners back toward Chang'an, he even found himself—after many years—singing marching songs again.
His voice was loud, clear, brimming with unrestrained exhilaration.
No one understood better than Su Dingfang how terrifyingly capable the current emperor was in war.
An emperor like that would never be satisfied with defeating only one Illig Qaghan.
But after returning to the capital, Su Dingfang realized—
He had been thinking too optimistically.
Yes, he was promoted.
But he was still guarding Kuangdao Prefecture.
Still guarding Hansihou Garden.
Still stationed in this bustling, magnificent Chang'an—
In a corner where people were scarce.
Even during the New Year, hardly anyone came this way.
To see the jiaodi wrestling on the neighboring street, Su Dingfang actually had to stand on his toes.
Two enormous men, wearing nothing but short trousers, stood inside a white-powder circle.
They rammed their shoulders into one another, roaring like thunder.
Muscles bulged, veins stood out, and the crowd's cheers rose and fell in waves.
Bored stiff, Su Dingfang climbed onto a low wall.
He carefully set his sword aside, then swung his legs back and forth, watching as two more pairs of wrestlers took turns.
"Su Lie?"
Hearing someone call his name, Su Dingfang stopped swinging his legs and leaned forward to look down.
Hah.
What a delicate-looking general.
A familiar face—someone from the palace.
Under normal circumstances, Su Dingfang would have climbed down immediately and paid proper respects.
But today?
He couldn't be bothered.
Whether he bowed or not, whether he behaved or not, he still couldn't escape counting birds in Kuangdao Prefecture.
Since the suffering was unavoidable, why bother putting on airs?
So after loudly shouting a "Good one!" toward the distant wrestlers, Su Dingfang finally said lazily:
"That's me. What is it?"
Li Junxian frowned slightly as he looked up at this former defeated opponent.
"His Majesty summons you."
In an instant, Su Dingfang came alive.
He jumped down, dusted off his trousers with two rough pats.
"Lead the way."
Li Junxian had once followed Li Shimin in crushing Liu Heita.
At that time, Su Dingfang had been serving under Liu Heita.
They knew of each other—but had little to say.
Only after reaching the front of Ganlu Hall and waiting did Su Dingfang finally ask:
"What does His Majesty want with me?"
Li Junxian shot him a sideways glance.
Said nothing.
Feeling snubbed, Su Dingfang was just about to mutter something when the doors of Ganlu Hall opened.
A monk in plain robes stepped out, his face heavy with concern.
"Master Xuanzang?" Li Junxian greeted him first.
After exchanging bows, Su Dingfang heard Xuanzang personally thank Li Junxian for saving his life.
Su Dingfang curled his lip in boredom.
At Li Junxian's signal, he stepped inside.
The light dimmed suddenly.
He narrowed his eyes before making out the interior.
The hall was extremely simple.
Several chairs placed oddly facing the wall.
A massive object—absurdly large—resembling a map.
And standing before it, dressed in casual attire—
Li Shimin.
After bowing, Su Dingfang heard the emperor ask without turning around:
"I heard today that you refuse to serve the court because I executed your foster father?"
This information came from Li Junxian's investigation.
Back when Dou Jiande was alive, his general Gao Yaxian had taken Su Lie as an adopted son.
After Dou Jiande's defeat, the two fled together to Liu Heita.
Then, at the Battle of Ming River, Liu Heita was defeated as well—
And Gao Yaxian died in battle.
Su Lie later returned to farming.
But because his home lay near Chang'an, he was considered unstable—and eventually conscripted and made to sweep streets in the capital.
Su Dingfang's expression did not change.
"Not unwilling," he replied calmly.
"Simply… unable."
Li Shimin nodded, unsurprised.
Then he asked another question:
"If I ask you to strike the Turks and open the Western Regions—what then?"
Su Dingfang felt it instantly.
That familiar heat surging through his veins once more.
"This is exactly what I desire," he answered firmly.
"I only dared not ask."
Li Shimin smiled.
Then he commanded:
"Step forward. Let me explain to you—this map of the Earth's domains."
Meanwhile—
In the rear garden of the Bianliang Imperial Palace, Zhao Kuangyin was in turmoil.
The luminous screen that had appeared on the stone table for only a single hour felt to him like a hundred years.
That immortal-seeming display spoke of the fate of Great Song:
Two Songs divided.
The Donkey Cart Emperor.
Three muddled rulers in succession.
And that Draft of a Requiem for My Nephew, named a national treasure—
A work said to witness the very fall of Song.
His legs were numb from sitting too long.
And yet Zhao Kuangyin still couldn't make sense of it all.
Only the final words—"See you again in three months"—lingered.
Three months from today?
Should he wait and see?
And… was Song truly so unbearable?
The more he thought, the more vexed he became.
Finally, he pulled the pellet bow from his waist.
Time to shoot some birds and calm down.
Then another irritation surfaced—something that had happened before the screen appeared.
He decided not to tolerate it any longer.
"Come!"
"Go to Censor Zhang Ai's residence."
"Charge him for falsely striking the Jingyang Bell and fabricating urgent military reports—crime of deceiving the sovereign."
"Fine him in gold and silk. Let him serve as a warning."
Watching the eunuch leave with the decree, Zhao Kuangyin finally felt his chest ease.
He wasn't being a muddled ruler.
What was wrong with shooting birds?
In Chengdu Prefecture, everyone stared at the golden foil greeting card.
A single thought struck them all at once—
This absolutely reeks of nouveau riche.
In terms of weight, it wasn't even as heavy as a single gold ingot.
But the craftsmanship?
Completely beyond them.
Especially the gold-and-silver inlay technique.
To replicate it, they'd probably have to look for goldsmiths in Jiangdong.
Liu Ba was the most practical:
"If only we could borrow money from the Tang emperor…"
Zhang Fei shook his head.
"Borrowing money is nothing compared to borrowing troops."
"Give me just one unit of those Tang warriors who died uselessly in the An Lushan Rebellion—"
"I guarantee I'll capture Cao the Traitor alive."
Liu Bei laughed and shook his head.
"If that happened, Han would become Tang four hundred years early."
Everyone burst into laughter.
Zhuge Liang stretched lazily, then turned to Xu Shu.
"Yuan Zhi—when do you depart?"
Liu Bei's smile froze.
Xu Shu nodded simply.
"If my guess is right, Cao's army could move at any time."
"The sooner I leave, the better."
Liu Bei was filled with reluctance.
But this was different from their last farewell.
Xu Shu's haste now was for their shared Han cause.
His heart was tangled beyond words.
Xu Shu, however, looked relaxed.
"Trapped for three years."
"Other than never meeting Shiyuan, I have no regrets."
"Having been away from battle so long, I fear rust."
"I must go assist General Yunchang early, lest I become a burden."
Liu Bei nodded, firm despite the pain.
There was time for a farewell feast.
They moved to a side hall and set up ceramic hotpots.
Even Xu Shu marveled.
Cups clinked, chopsticks flew, wine flowed.
After a few drinks, Xu Shu looked up—and his emotions surged.
Liu Bei noticed.
"Why the tears, Yuan Zhi?"
Wiping his reddened eyes, Xu Shu smiled.
"It's only April."
"I crossed from Cao's camp, passed Jiangdong, reached Jiangling, entered Yi."
"I saw suffering settlers."
"Heard of Jiangzuo's wealth."
"Admired Jiangling's crafts."
"Witnessed Chengdu's transformation."
"I learned the world is a sphere."
"Saw a thousand years of rise and fall."
"Watched later emperors squander their chances."
"In a hundred days, I gained more than in forty years."
"How could I not weep?"
Zhang Fei shouted:
"That's because you haven't seen later generations' elite armies yet!"
"Even Tang warriors fall short!"
"If I could train just five hundred like that—"
Xu Shu listened carefully, occasionally consulting Zhuge Liang.
Mutual confirmation, mutual growth.
Business plans, market reforms, new laws, northwest unrest—
Xu Shu absorbed everything.
As for Zhao Yun's silence—he was used to it.
But Xu Shu remembered those cavalry forces.
Tang heavy cavalry.
Arab armored riders.
Hu Yeluohe troops.
With Liangzhou horses—
Zhao Yun's potential might astonish even Guan Yu.
All this required careful planning.
First priority: no losses in Jing-Xiang.
Their manpower was too scarce.
Cao Cao losing six thousand was nothing.
For them, even trading one for two was unacceptable.
Shaking off these thoughts, Xu Shu raised his cup to Liu Bei—
And drank deeply.
For now, this reunion was worth celebrating.
Chengdu rejoiced.
And in Hanzhong, Pang Tong was also very happy.
Jiang Wei truly lived up to his reputation.
Diligent in classics.
Brilliant in tactics.
And being called "Master"?
Pure bliss.
The only awkward part—
Jiang Wei's temperament was far too similar to Zhuge Liang's.
Fierce. Stubborn. Unyielding.
No wonder he would later attempt to revive Han against impossible odds.
Three parts unease.
Seven parts righteous confidence.
After all—Jiang Wei never entered Zhuge Liang's memorial.
Why shouldn't the Phoenix Chick claim him first?
Thus Pang Tong's mindset was simple:
Delay one day at a time.
Hearing "Master" a few more times was pure profit.