Jinting Han people

With the fall of Yangping Pass, the gate to Hanzhong was opened, and Liu Xian's army poured into Hanzhong County like mercury spilling onto the ground.

At this moment, the sky was covered with thick clouds, the air was gloomy and heavy, and the north wind howled, as if evil spirits were attempting to steal souls, so much so that there was a lingering smell of dust in the wind. But this could not affect the morale of Liu Xian's army. Now, looking at the landscape of Hanzhong before them, even with the fierce wind cutting their faces, everyone was in a good mood, as if they were bathed in the spring breeze.

"After traveling more than three thousand miles and enduring nearly four months of hardship, we have finally arrived at a place where we can truly settle down!"

Many soldiers said the same thing. For them, fighting wasn't difficult, nor was long marches; what was truly difficult was not knowing where their home was, living like nomadic bandits, without a fixed abode. After all, everyone needs something to look forward to, and that something is home. Those without a home live in constant fear. They are afraid of dying as homeless, wandering ghosts—how terrifying that would be! But now, they can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

For the generals, the significance of entering Hanzhong was even clearer. Previously in Hedong, they were caught between the two most powerful forces in the land. No matter how careful they were, independent development was impossible; eastward expansion meant interference from the west, and westward expansion meant suppression from the east. Now, successfully entering Hanzhong meant escaping their encirclement. As long as they could establish a foothold, they would have ample opportunity to demonstrate their abilities. Even if they couldn't unify the land, they could at least establish their own independent state, no longer facing the constant threat of annihilation.

Therefore, many of the generals congratulated Liu Xian, and Liu Xian was also pleased. He encouraged everyone, saying, "The future is long, and this is just the beginning."

Even though Liu Xian said this, he still found it difficult to remain calm. Riding his horse across the land of Hanzhong, Liu Xian had a unique feeling. He couldn't help but recall the past, when he was a child studying with Chen Shou. His teacher would write history and tell him all sorts of stories about the end of the Han Dynasty. Those stories seemed to have come out of his imagination and transformed into the solid land before him.

Although he had never been here before, Liu Xian knew all the famous historical sites in Hanzhong like the back of his hand without needing any introduction.

Five li east of Yangping Pass lies the tomb of Ma Chao, and about ten li southeast of there is the Mianyang Wuhou Temple. Although there are countless privately established Wuhou Temples in Sichuan and Chongqing, this one was personally established by Emperor Liu Shan (Liu Shan's grandfather) by imperial decree, making it the only officially recognized Wuhou Temple by the Shu Han government. This is because it is also the location of the tomb of Zhuge Liang, the Marquis of Wu.

Now that he was here, Liu Xian had no choice but to pay his respects to everyone.

He first rested briefly at Yangping Pass, awaiting the arrival of more refugees and troops. Meanwhile, Li Ju led his army straight to Mianyang, intending to capture this city as a starting point for taking Hanzhong.

According to Wei Jun, due to the defeat at the Battle of Chencang, the Liangzhou army suffered heavy losses, and the defenses within Hanzhong Commandery were weakened. Apart from Yangping Pass, only the commandery capital of Nanzheng had 10,000 troops remaining. The garrisons in the other counties of Hanzhong were negligible, numbering only a few hundred men each. Sure enough, when Li Ju led his army to the walls of Mianyang, the magistrate of Mianyang offered no resistance and immediately surrendered the city.

Liu Xian then entered Mianyang. After entering the city, he looked around, pointed to the land in the east of the city, and said to Li Sheng with great emotion: "My teacher told me that my great-grandfather offered sacrifices to Heaven here and was established as the King of Hanzhong."

Looking up, people could see that the altar where Liu Bei declared himself king had long since disappeared. All that could be seen was a neat field, the millet on the ridges had been harvested, and nothing new had been planted yet. Only stacks of bundled straw remained, and sparrows perched on the straw stacks, chirping and chattering.

Eighty-five years have passed, and on the land of Hanzhong, it feels like a dream. Even the oldest people in Mianyang have never witnessed this scene. But people can still vaguely see a group of people ascending the altar to offer sacrifices to heaven, letting out hearty laughter.

Someone asked Liu Xian if he wanted to erect a stone tablet here as a memorial. Liu Xian smiled and declined, saying, "There is no need. As long as people remember it in their hearts, that is the best memorial."

He didn't actually develop a longing for Hanzhong because of any so-called stone tablet.

Three days later, as immigrants from Wuxing entered Yangping Pass one after another, Liu Xian began the formal sacrificial ceremony.

Among the entourage were many elderly people from Hedong. Upon entering Hanzhong and learning the news, many were overwhelmed with emotion, tears streaming down their faces. Some of them were already seriously ill and had difficulty moving around, but the thought of paying homage to Prime Minister Zhuge Liang still compelled them to participate, declaring that they would crawl there even if it meant seeing the Prime Minister. Therefore, on the day the ceremony began, many elderly people could be seen riding in oxcarts among the crowd.

All the officers and subordinates in the army, as well as Liu Xian's eldest son Liu Lang, participated. After all, this was a major event concerning the orthodox tradition, no matter what.

They first went to Ma Chao's tomb to pay their respects.

Ma Chao's tomb was located beside a stream, with a circumference of thirty zhang and a height of three zhang, surrounded by pine and cypress trees, making it quite a magnificent sight. Liu Xian examined the tombstone and saw eight large characters inscribed on it: "Ma Chao, General of the Han Dynasty".

As a renowned general who spent his life on the battlefield, Ma Chao had only been with Shu Han for seven years. However, he made significant contributions to Liu Bei's conquest of Yizhou, the struggle for Hanzhong, and the acquisition of Liangzhou, and was nominally Liu Bei's most important minister during his reign. Liu Xian should rightfully offer incense and prayers here.

As Liu Xian paid his respects, he recalled Ma Chao's uprising and felt a pang of anxiety. Ma Chao had been thirty-five when he rebelled against Cao Cao, roughly the same age as Liu Xian. At that time, Ma Chao was arrogant and ambitious, even abandoning his father to become independent. Yet, he died at forty-seven, far from home, his family gone. How tragic it would be to end up like that! Surely, even in his dying moments, this General of Chariots and Cavalry must have felt a deep sense of resentment.

A person's life always seems long, but it is actually very short.

Liu Xian silently prayed in his heart, "Please, Lord Ma, bless me and let me return to Luoyang as soon as possible."

After his sacrifice, Ma Chao's grandson Ma Ming and Yang Nandi, among others, paid their respects, mostly mourning Ma Chao's illustrious military achievements and lamenting the near-miss at the Battle of Tong Pass. But Liu Xian knew that many times in history, what seemed like a close call was actually far more significant.

Then they went to the Tomb of Marquis Wu. Compared to the Tomb of Ma Chao, the Tomb of Marquis Wu was noticeably more popular. Not only was the tomb very clean, but even the path they had taken had been repaired and replaced with stone steps. In front of the tombstone of Marquis Wu, there were even some offerings, mostly persimmons, oranges, and some millet. Judging from the quality of the offerings, they were probably spontaneous contributions from farmers.

The tombstone of Zhuge Liang is inscribed with "Tomb of Zhuge Liang, Chancellor of the Han Dynasty." Around the tombstone stand fifty-four cypress trees, symbolizing the years of Zhuge Liang's life. Beside the earthen mound, on a mound of earth, grows a tall osmanthus tree, over ten feet high, with lush branches and a canopy like an umbrella; it is said to have been planted by his wife, Lady Huang. Next to the tomb are two smaller graves, where Zhang Bao and Guan Xing are buried; these graves also have two osmanthus trees, which have stood there for nearly seventy years.

Looking east from here, you can see Dingjun Mountain, which is two miles away. Dingjun Mountain is covered with pine and cypress trees. Chen Shou said that Zhuge Liang trained his troops and conducted military exercises on this mountain before launching his northern expedition.

Upon arriving at this place, the group fell silent without realizing it, as if afraid to disturb the peace. Seeing this place, they couldn't help but recall the route they had taken, and many of the elderly people from Hedong truly felt a sense of returning home. Liu Xian was the first to pay his respects. Unlike at Ma Chao's tomb, he didn't offer any prayers at the tomb of Zhuge Liang, because he knew that the spirit had given everything, leaving nothing behind. Therefore, he simply said silently, "Prime Minister, please know that the Han Dynasty has not fallen. I will carry on your legacy and continue the struggle."

He then gave up his spot, and all the elders, led by Zhuge Jing, began to pay their respects to the tombstone one by one.

Watching these elderly people perform the sacrificial ceremony, perhaps because it was a lengthy, tedious, and troublesome process, the eldest son, Liu Lang, looked up and asked him:

"Sir, why do we offer sacrifices to the deceased?"

To ask such a disrespectful question about life and death shows that Liu Lang is still very young. But Liu Xian wasn't angry; instead, he felt a sense of bewilderment, because he had asked a similar question when he first met his teacher, Chen Shou, and his teacher's answer had benefited him throughout his life. However, Liu Xian didn't intend to answer using his teacher's words; he decided to put it more simply.

Liu Xian patted his son's head and said, "Everyone will die sooner or later, and sacrifice is a kind of recognition of honor."

"Approval?"

“Yes, I agree.” Liu Xian smiled and said, “Some people receive offerings because of their bloodline, some because of their good deeds, and some because of their careers. The more offerings a person receives, the greater they are considered by the world.”

"Conversely, if a person dies and his grave is deserted, it means he was a fool. No matter what he was like in life, if no one recognizes what he did in life, then what difference is there between him and an ordinary person? What difference is there between him and a pig or a dog? That is an insult."

"When we worship the spirits, we do this to make a distinction, to tell those who have died that they were different from others, that they were not mediocre fools, but true great people."

Upon hearing this, Liu Lang lowered his head and pondered for a moment before saying, "So, sir, the evaluation of the deceased is determined by the living?"

“That’s right.” Liu Xian turned his gaze back to Dingjun Mountain in the distance and said slowly, “It’s not just their evaluation, but also their career and their dreams.”

Restoring the Han Dynasty and resuming its four-hundred-year-old prosperity and glory is a very long dream, and it did not begin with Liu Xian.

Since a hundred years ago, countless people have sacrificed themselves to realize this dream. Perhaps this person was a member of the royal family in a remote area of ​​Zhuojun in Youzhou, perhaps this person was a wandering knight in Jie County in Hedong, perhaps this person was an ignorant child fleeing in panic from Xuzhou, perhaps this person was a promising young scholar in the mountains of Tianshui, or perhaps this person was just an illiterate farmer.

They all paid a heavy price: some were forced to leave their homes, some were beheaded, some lost their families, and some were never even remembered. Because of their deaths, the dream was once thought to be over, and many of them were considered utterly foolish. But what Liu Xian wanted to do was simply to let the world know that the dream was not over, that those who had passed away were not fools, and that they would receive a fair evaluation—nothing more.

Upon hearing this, Liu Lang seemed to understand but not quite. After all, there were many seemingly simple but actually profound things involved: since the deceased were already dead, why did they need the evaluation of the living? And why would the living want to influence the world after death? He didn't yet understand the meaning of legend and eternity, but he vaguely sensed it. So Liu Lang finally calmed down and regained his patience.

The sacrificial ceremony lasted from morning until evening. In the evening, everyone held a grand banquet at the foot of Dingjun Mountain, where Liu Xian chatted with the elders of Hedong about the past and present.

Zhuge Jing said to Liu Xian, "We are all old and can no longer help our lord, but now that we have returned here, even if we die tomorrow, we will die on our homeland and have no regrets."

Xue Yi and the others echoed in unison. Forty years ago, when their kingdom fell, they were forcibly relocated from Sichuan and Chongqing, passing through Hanzhong into Guanzhong, and finally arriving in Hedong. The journey they had taken was actually longer than the one they had traveled this year. At that time, anyone would have thought they would forever remain strangers in a foreign land. But who could have imagined that today, they would return to Hanzhong? It felt like a dream.

Of course, after the initial excitement, they thought of those who could not return, those old friends who died in foreign lands, and those martyrs who died on the day their country fell. Many were overcome with grief and wept.

Some people say, "It's a blessing from God that I'm still alive today."

Some people, holding wine cups, said to the distant tomb of Zhuge Liang, "The ones who truly deserve our congratulations are Emperor Zhaolie, Prime Minister Zhuge Liang, General Jiang Wei, General Zhao Guang, General Fu Qian, and the Prince of Beidi. Please look, the Han Dynasty has worthy successors!"

As they spoke, they began to sing "The Distant Journey" by Qin Mi, a minister of Shu Han, the text of which is as follows:
What do I see on my long journey? What I see is hard to describe. The caves and grottoes are not my neighbors, and the forests and hills have no kindred spirits.

The tiger is the elder brother of the leopard, and the eagle is the younger brother of the hawk. A trapped beast wanders around the hill, and a bird rises alarmed from its nest.

A fierce wind roars, a chilling wind rises for a thousand miles. The traveler, far from home, sighs deeply; sighs for the traveler far from home.

That was written by Qin Mi when he was on a mission to Eastern Wu, longing for his hometown. Now, a group of wanderers have returned to their homeland. How could they not be moved by the scene? Even though most of them are old and their voices have become hoarse and dull, even though there are no longer any people in their hometown who recognize them, it does not prevent them from still being wanderers who have traveled far away.

Listening to the song, Liu Xian thought of his teachers. He raised his glass, spilling one cup on the ground, then another. Remembering his teacher's last words, he couldn't help but smile softly. He had failed one teacher's wishes, but not the other. He knew both teachers would be proud of him. Because he had become a heavy, solid rock, as steady as Mount Tai, able to accept the weight of so many people's hopes with equanimity.

The tiny spark they left behind has been successfully passed down, becoming a torch illuminating their future. Next, Liu Xian must gather more fuel to ensure the flame burns brightly and persistently. (End of Chapter)