After the business with the Li family's youngest daughter, the matter of Second Son Li and the Widow Qian—those bits of petty neighborhood gossip—were swiftly forgotten.
Second Son Li, after all, had long given up on the idea of entering the Little Academy. He knew it had age limits, and he had known early enough not to harbor false hopes.
What he hadn't expected—what no one had expected—was that the Little Academy would accept girls.
That alone was enough to leave him dazed.
The brocade officer had spoken plainly enough. Since she served under Lord Liu Xuande's administration, her words were not idle chatter. If she said girls could study, then girls truly could study.
And so, before dawn the next morning—while the sky was still washed in pale gray—Old Man Li was already awake.
He tugged his daughter out of bed, urged her to wash and dress, and without so much as a proper breakfast, the two of them set out straight for the prefectural office.
A Different Kind of Government Office
The Chengdu prefectural office no longer resembled the solemn, forbidding place it once had been.
Old Man Li had heard the locals talk about it often enough. Back when Liu Yan and Liu Zhang ruled as Governors of Yi Province, the Chengdu office had been called a palace.
The four surrounding streets were sealed tight. Forget hawking goods—common folk weren't even allowed to walk through the area. One wrong step, one careless glance, and you were guilty of violating palace law. It had been modeled almost exactly after the imperial precincts of Luoyang.
All of that had vanished after Liu Xuande arrived.
Now, the area bustled from dawn to dusk.
People came to present craftsmanship techniques in hopes of earning coin. Others volunteered themselves outright, hoping to gain recognition. Some brought baskets of eggs to thank officials who had taught them new farming methods. There were those applying to rent oxen, to borrow curved plows, or simply to ask how to coax better yields from stubborn soil.
Liu Zhang's old prefectural grounds had been enormous. Liu Xuande, rather than wall it all off for himself, simply carved out a modest living area for his household and put the rest to use.
Government, here, was no longer something that towered above the people.
It stood among them.
The Little Academy
Guided by a servant, Old Man Li wove through several corridors before arriving at a broad courtyard.
A group of young boys entered ahead of them with practiced ease, slipping through a moon gate as if they'd done so a hundred times already. Old Man Li couldn't hide the envy on his face.
Beside the moon gate sat a low table. Behind it lay a woven mat, and atop that mat knelt a young gentleman, stifling a yawn.
A wooden placard hung from the table:
Registration Desk
Old Man Li stepped forward, bowed deeply, and spoke carefully.
"Is this where one registers for the Little Academy?"
The young clerk stopped yawning, glanced at the sign, then looked back at him.
"You can read?"
Old Man Li nodded.
The clerk raised an eyebrow, then asked again, "Can the student read?"
"I know some characters," Li's daughter answered clearly.
The clerk scribbled a few notes, muttering to himself.
"Then no need for the introductory literacy class…"
He looked up again.
"Place of origin? Name?"
Old Man Li hurried to answer. "Yanzhou, Shanyang Commandery. Surname Li."
The clerk paused, studying the pair more closely, then shook his head.
"Old sir, Lord Xuande has ordered that all students—girls included—must have a proper given name."
He gestured lightly with his brush.
"A school this large… seven or eight girls surnamed Liu, ninety girls surnamed Li—how are we supposed to tell them apart?"
Old Man Li froze.
"That is… but… she truly has no given name…"
The clerk craned his neck. Behind them, three or four more families were already lining up.
Without missing a beat, he said quickly, "The Book of Songs says: 'The quiet maiden is fair.' Why not call her Li Shu?"
"If that works, I'll register her now. If not, you'll need to come back once you've chosen a name."
"That will do! That will do!" Old Man Li said hastily, unwilling to risk losing the chance.
Li Shu pressed her lips together, smiling softly. She hadn't even entered the school yet, but she already felt that this place… was good.
The clerk swiftly wrote out a wooden tag and placed it in her hands.
"Take this inside. Someone will guide you."
Then, without pause, he called out to the next in line.
"Place of origin? Name? Can you read?"
"Langzhong. Name Hu Du ( future general Shu Han, Wang Ping). 'Hu' as in fox, 'Du' as in solid and substantial."
Li Shu glanced back and saw a boy about her height, standing alone. The way he carried himself made it obvious—whether anyone asked or not—that he could read.
For reasons she didn't quite understand, she felt a twinge of envy.
Passing Figures
As Old Man Li led his daughter through the moon gate, two men exited just then.
Startled, he quickly stepped aside, pulling Li Shu with him.
Both men were handsome and composed, carrying themselves like true scholars. They nodded politely as they passed, still conversing in low voices.
"…Yuan Zhi left in such a hurry… Jingxiang… forgot to have him take this…"
"…Send someone by light boat…"
Zhuge Kongming turned his head slightly, watching the father and daughter disappear through the gate.
Another female student.
He smiled faintly.
"Another girl entering the academy," he said. "A good sign."
Beside him, Liu Ba nodded. "With how valuable weavers are these days, those who choose learning over the loom are rare indeed."
It was only a small interruption. The two soon returned to their discussion.
A Forgotten Farewell
What had been meant as a simple farewell meal the night before—just a clay hotpot to see Xu Shu off—had turned into drinking.
Too much drinking.
Xu Shu had boarded the boat singing, half-drunk, and departed into the night.
Only the next morning did Zhuge Kongming remember—
There had been things he'd meant to send.
So he sought out Liu Ba, who oversaw trade, and borrowed a small boat.
Before long, a single vessel slipped downstream, escorted by Liu Xuande's personal guards. On board were three chests—one large, two small—bound straight for Jingzhou.
Gifts on the River
The boat traveled south, entered the West Han River, then followed it eastward.
When they passed Jiangzhou, one of the guards noticed the docks piled high with dark lumps.
"Prefect Cheng Ji is a capable man," he remarked.
With the ice broken, idle chatter followed as the guards kept watch.
"Isn't Cheng Ji the prefect whom our lord personally persuaded?"
"That's him. Promised neutrality back when our lord first held Jiangzhou."
"And that coal mine—wasn't that his discovery? Even the military advisor praised him."
"Our lord's banner gathers talent wherever it goes."
That much, at least, everyone agreed on.
Jingzhou — The Unveiling
When the chests finally arrived before Guan Yu, even he was curious.
"Kongming sent these?"
Xu Shu slapped his forehead. "Drinking ruins everything. Made you all make another trip."
He bowed apologetically to the guards, silently swearing never again to drink before finishing his duties.
They opened the chests.
The smallest held a long sword, along with a note in Liu Xuande's hand:
"One of the Chengdu armory's treasures. I felt it suited Yuan Zhi the moment I saw it."
Xu Shu was delighted. He tested the edge—and promptly refused to put it down.
The second chest was heavier, filled with dozens of black pellets. A note in Kongming's handwriting read:
"Smoke pellets made by Daoist Qingsong. Ignite with fire; thick smoke fills the area within ten paces. Use wisely."
Xu Shu read it twice, then laughed.
"So he couldn't think of a use himself and dumped it on me?"
Still… this might prove very useful.
Then the third box—
"Fine blade!"
Guan Yu's deep voice rang out.
The largest chest had been opened. In his hands lay a massive polearm.
A single note had fallen to the floor. Xu Shu picked it up.
"Forged in the shape of an auspicious omen, using superior coal from Zangke Commandery."
Xu Shu didn't fully understand.
But Guan Yu did.
This was that weapon.
The one shown on the luminous screen of later ages.
The blade curved like a resting moon.
The Crescent Moon Blade.
Guan Yu seized a long spear from the training yard, twisted his waist, and brought the blade down.
One strike.
The spear split cleanly in two—its head embedded into the stone floor.
"Excellent blade!"
Joy surged through him.
"No wonder my brother rushed this here," he said firmly. "Tell him—Yu will not fail him!"
As they returned inside, Xu Shu smiled faintly.
"General Guan seems eager for battle."
Guan Yu nodded openly.
"My brother advances in Yi and Hanzhong while Jingzhou stands still. I am ashamed."
Xu Shu shook his head. "Xu hears the truth. Le Jin nearly died under your blade. Only our lord's restraint spared him."
Guan Yu stroked his beard, neither confirming nor denying.
"Is the time ripe?"
Xu Shu straightened.
"Cao Cao holds heavy forces in Xiangfan, Guanzhong, and Shouchun."
He traced lines across the map.
"If he means to strike, it will be Jingzhou by late summer."
"Then why wait?" Xu Shu continued. "Force him to move."
"Jingzhou advances, Hanzhong harasses Guanzhong—his forces will stretch thin."
Guan Yu's hand tightened on the blade.
"Then we march," he said. "Xiangfan shall fall."