Jinting Han people

The weather was sunny and clear that day.

Under the warm spring sunshine, the snow on Mangshan Mountain melted, the ice on the Yi River shattered, and tender green buds sprouted from the willow branches. A north wind swept through the poplar branches, still carrying a chilly mist, but no longer as noisy as before; only the hurried footsteps of travelers heading east filled the air. A few bright red foxes would dart out from among the withered grass, curiously observing the ragged crowd for a moment, completely unaware of where they were headed.

The answer is not hard: these are mostly refugees who will be moving out of Luoyang and heading to Xuchang. Under the auspices of the Xuchang government, the first batch of refugees have already embarked on their journey away from home. After losing everything, they will start over in Yan and Yu provinces, beginning as tenant farmers.

But there was a small group of pedestrians, dressed in military attire, wearing hoods, with swords at their waists, and riding unusually tall horses, clearly distinguishing them from the refugees. They seemed to be of noble status, but judging from the admiring gazes of the refugees, it seemed to be more than that; rather, it was because they were deeply loved by the people. As they parted ways with the crowd and headed south, no one gave them any instructions, and the refugees bowed to them one after another.

This was none other than Liu Xian, the Duke of Songzi, and his entourage. They waved to the refugees with smiles and then headed towards Dongwu.

When Liu Xian saw the fortified village in the distance, so different from what he remembered, he was startled. He repeatedly looked back to make sure he hadn't gone the wrong way, and it took him a long time to recall: he hadn't been here for almost fifteen years since he first left Luoyang at the age of eighteen. Time flies, and he hadn't expected that he had changed so much, and Dongwu had changed so much too.

Liu Xian knocked on the door. Lai Fu peeked through the doorway and, seeing it was his young master, immediately opened the door, leaning on his cane. He then shook Liu Xian's hand vigorously and said proudly, "Young master, we've all heard that you are a world-renowned hero!"

Laifu had really aged. His hands were icy cold, his face withered like tree bark, covered in spots. Being a cripple to begin with, his back was now hunched, making him appear even shorter. Liu Xian looked at him, recalling his childhood impression of Laifu—a tall, imposing man he had once thought of—but now he couldn't connect the two at all. He looked at the cane Laifu was using, the same one he had given him before, and thought: Time really flies.

Lai Fu then shouted into the dock. Upon hearing that Liu Xian had returned, all sorts of people rushed out to greet him. Among them were people Liu Xian knew and people he didn't know, old people and children, dressed either simply or richly, but all with the same expression of pride and joy, as if silently praising: Look, this is our young master!

Liu Xian was now followed by over three hundred knights. Though unarmored, their ranks were uniform and their bearing imposing. One couldn't help but think of the boy who once toiled in the fields of Dongwu, now a towering general, sweeping across armies. Especially the old servants who had witnessed the fall of their kingdoms; they seemed to see in him the shadows of the martyrs who had fought before the nation's demise.

"If Zhaolie were to be resurrected, he probably wouldn't be any better..." whispers circulated among the crowd.

A'Luo, carrying her daughter Lingyou, came over first. Liu Xian took the daughter, rubbed her nose, and then smiled as he looked around at the crowd, asking, "Where is the master? Why isn't he here?"

Aro replied, "The master was ill a while ago and hasn't fully recovered yet!"

"Oh, then I'll go see him later."

Upon hearing this, everyone realized that Liu Xian's return home this time was not a simple family visit. Although the father and son had long since managed to maintain a perfunctory relationship, based on past experience, Liu Xian rarely spoke to the Duke of Anle unless Liu Xun took the initiative to seek him out. The fact that Liu Xian was going to see the Duke of Anle meant that the young master was about to make a major decision, one that could change the fate of the entire Duke of Anle's household.

Liu Xian first went to the ancestral hall to make up for the New Year's worship that he hadn't had time to perform. He lit three incense sticks for his grandfather and uncles, and silently prayed: "Elders, I am about to embark on the path you came from, returning to my hometown which I have never seen before. Please bless me." After the silent prayer, he kowtowed three times firmly to the ancestral tablet.

After letting out a sigh of relief, he went to see his father.

To be honest, even after all these years, Liu Xian still harbored a sense of resentment towards his father, Liu Xun. Although he could hide it well, the thought of his father's past misdeeds made him uneasy, no matter how peaceful and kind he had become now. Perhaps it was a stereotype, but he always felt that this was a facade, and sooner or later, his father would reveal his true nature and bring great disaster to the family.

After all, he killed his mother. If he were an ordinary person, he should have died long ago, but he has lived on without a care in the world until today. Isn't that proof enough?

Then Liu Xian met his father, but the state of the Duke of Anle surprised him greatly.

Although he had heard that his father was ill, this was the first time Liu Xian had actually seen him in person. After all, in Liu Xian's mind, no matter how his father's appearance changed, his scoundrelly and shallow mentality would never change, a mentality that seemed to be enough to make him live a fulfilling and radiant life.

But this time, Liu Xun looked visibly aged. He sat leaning against the brazier, his hair nearly seventy percent white, the fine lines around his eyes more numerous than Lai Fu's, his face as sallow as earth, the skin on his neck drooping and trembling slightly with each breath, as if the Duke of Anle had been hollowed out inside. Yet he wore a newly changed robe with nine dragon motifs, trying his best to maintain a proper posture, his eyes tightly closed, yet exuding an air of majesty that Liu Xian had never seen before.

Upon hearing Liu Xian's footsteps stop, Duke Anle opened his eyes. He looked Liu Xian up and down and, seeing that his son had returned from the battlefield unharmed, couldn't help but show a pleased expression and grin.

He picked up a cane from beside him, used it to support himself as he stood up, and asked with remarkable fluency and seriousness, as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times in his mind: "Ready to leave?"

It seemed that his father already knew why he had come. Liu Xian nodded and slowly said, "Yes, I'm about to leave with my whole family."

Unexpectedly, Duke Anle shook his head and rejected the idea, saying, "Just take your wife and daughters, and a few uncles and brothers with you. What's the point of taking the whole family? Are they going to be a burden? Even Emperor Gaozu didn't bring his family to war. Why are you doing this? If you can't move quickly, you'll have to leave people behind. There's no need for that."

"Can……"

“There’s nothing wrong with it. How many of us old folks can withstand a life of wandering? We’ve lived this long enough to take care of ourselves. We don’t need you to worry about us.”

Anle Gong's words weren't entirely without merit, but what surprised Liu Xian most was the unwavering conviction they contained—a conviction he had never heard before. With conviction came persuasive power. Thus, an unseen force influenced Liu Xian, causing him to waver slightly and gain more faith in his father. He then whispered, "Alright, I understand."

This answer pleased Duke Anle greatly. He said, "Come with me to a place where I have something to give you."

Having said that, he left the house without asking Liu Xian's consent. Liu Xian was puzzled, but he could sense that what his father was about to entrust to him was probably the most important thing in his life, so he followed. Liu Xun, leaning on his cane, walked to the back door, where Zhu Fu had already prepared a carriage and was waiting. Liu Xun went up first, followed by Liu Xian, and then the familiar creaking sound of the carriage wheels filled the air, making Liu Xian feel somewhat dazed, as if he had returned to his childhood experiences of going to Mangshan and studying at Chen Shou's thatched cottage.

The wheels kept turning, and Anle Gong remained silent, his eyes tightly shut once more, awaiting the end of the journey. In this close proximity to his father, Liu Xian suddenly realized that this was probably the first time in his memory that he had ridden in the same carriage as his father. At this distance, he could clearly see his father's face—an aged face covered in spots and wrinkles, completely unlike the man who used to be as angry as a tiger.

Liu Xian gazed at his father, staring at him for a long time. Half a day flew by without him noticing, until the carriage slowly came to a stop and Zhu Fu reminded him inside, which startled him. After getting off the carriage and looking around, Liu Xian immediately knew where he was. This was the border mountain where he had observed three years of mourning.

It goes without saying where Duke Anle intended to make his final statement.

The carriage stopped at the foot of the mountain, and the father and son walked uphill. Anle Gong, being old and frail, soon began to pant and had to stop to rest. After resting, however, he refused Liu Xian and Zhu Fu's help and instead continued walking forward with his cane until he reached Zhang Ximiao's tomb.

After months of war, the mound was overgrown with weeds, and the father and son began to clean it up. But after clearing away the weeds, Liu Xun did not stop. He continued to dig in front of his wife's grave. About a foot away from the tombstone, he dug a shallow pit, and then, to Liu Xian's disbelief, pulled a long, rectangular wooden box from the mud.

When was this placed there? How could he have been in mourning for three years without knowing it? Before Liu Xian could figure this out, Duke Anle had carefully buried the pit, then stood up and said to Liu Xian, "Li Mi should have told you that you need a token to enter Shu."

"Yes." Liu Xian nodded. He had always wanted to know what kind of token it was that his teacher insisted on receiving it himself.

"This was the plan of the Grand General back then. He told my elder brother that if we wanted to turn the tide, my elder brother would need to personally lead the army to counterattack the Wei army, holding a token."

Duke Anle solemnly opened the long box, took out a long strip wrapped in white cloth, and then slowly untied the cloth, revealing a three-foot-long sword.

He gently stroked the scabbard as if he were stroking a lover, and whispered, "This is the token. Without this token, the Han army will not obey any orders except from the General, not even from your grandfather."

"After the chaos, the Han army fled, and many people disappeared without a trace. But Li Mi actually knew that the Han army had been hiding in Yizhou. The location was in the last volume of the 'Collected Works of Zhuge Liang' that Li Mi gave you. There was a hidden compartment in there. If you opened it with a knife, you would get a map."

"Forty years have passed. So much time has gone by. I don't even know if they're still there. But since Li Mi came specifically to find you, he must have made the necessary arrangements. It seems that it's time to hand this sword over to you."

At this point, Duke Anle sighed, then held the sword with both hands, as heavy as a thousand pounds, and handed it to Liu Xian. Upon seeing this, Liu Xian quickly took the sword. Buried underground for more than ten years, the blade was as cold as ice and snow, yet it carried a fragrant scent of earth that was enough to intoxicate.

Just by feeling the weight of the sword, Liu Xian knew it was no ordinary weapon. He simply couldn't understand why a sword would be used as a token. Shouldn't an imperial seal have been used instead?

Seeing his son's confusion, Liu Xun explained, "This is a precious sword that has been passed down from our ancestors since the Han Dynasty. There were two of them, called the male and female swords. This is the female sword. The other male sword was first in the hands of Prime Minister Zhuge, and later it was passed on to the General."

Liu Xian suddenly realized what was happening, and a great sense of emotion filled his heart, causing him to repeatedly stroke the precious sword.

This was not the end. Duke Anle took off the seal from his waist and handed it to Liu Xian, saying, "You should take this too. I estimate that I will never need it again from now on."

The act of passing on the imperial seal signifies the succession of the throne. Liu Xun's implication was clearly that he intended for his son to succeed him as Duke of Anle, allowing him to begin his restoration efforts as one of the "Two Kings and Three Respected Officials."

In truth, the conversation could have ended here; father and son would part ways and never see each other again, a fact both knew perfectly well. But perhaps thinking of his wife, or perhaps of his brother, or perhaps feeling that this was a crucial moment in his destiny, Liu Xun felt an irresistible urge to say a few more words to his son, almost as if possessed.

So he took the seal, placed it in his son's arms, and continued:
"Sigh, keep this safe. Perhaps the biggest mistake of my life is not treating you well. Piji, don't hate me. I am indeed a useless piece of trash, unworthy to be your father."

"So you have to do your best! With your talent, I believe in you. No matter what difficulties and setbacks you encounter, you can overcome them! I've always been jealous of you because I know you can do it."

Liu Xian was stunned for a moment, because in thirty-two years, this was the first time he had heard repentance and blessing from his father.

From his father's pained gaze, Liu Xian clearly saw that he too longed to restore the nation. This desire had always existed, though for forty years he had buried it deep in his heart, living a muddled life and sleeping far from home every night. All his hatred and resentment stemmed from one source: he could never realize his dream on his own.

At this point, despite Liu Xun's efforts to maintain his fatherly dignity and say a few more words to his son, tears streamed down his face, his heart overflowing with unspoken words, yet they were all choked back by sobs. He could only sadly wave to his son, murmuring, "Biji, thank goodness you're not like me, thank goodness you're not like me..."

Hearing these words and seeing his father's fragile, childlike expression, Liu Xian suddenly felt that all the resentment between father and son over the past thirty years seemed to be melting away. He tried to control his emotions, trying to suppress his anger as he thought about his father's violent acts during his childhood, but he couldn't stop feeling compassion for the old man.

So when Liu Xun beckoned to him, Liu Xian finally couldn't control himself and knelt down on one knee beside his father's legs, letting his father stroke his hair. Turning his head, he saw his mother's tombstone again, remembering her voice and smile, and was overwhelmed with grief. In a daze, he seemed to return to when he was three or four years old, in his mother's arms and listening to her lullabies, his father suddenly smiling as he took him in, calling his childhood name as he lifted him high above his head.

Liu Xian had sworn to his mother that he would never shed a tear, and now that he had broken his vow, his father's tears flowed even more uncontrollably. Even the groom Zhu Fu, who was standing by, was moved by the old and young masters, and couldn't help but shed tears, repeatedly wiping them from his face. He cried and thought with joy that he had actually witnessed their reconciliation in his lifetime. What regrets could he possibly have in dying?
Amidst tears, the first tiny flower of spring bloomed on the white apricot branch beside the grave. (End of Chapter)