Han Ji

Chapter 148 Sacrifice to the stove in the twelfth lunar month

Three days later, the twelve mediocre officials received their severance pay at the Household Affairs Office.

Each person received three thousand coins, strung together with hemp rope, a heavy bag. They silently accepted it, signed and sealed it, then walked out of the side gate of the prefectural government office with their heads down. No one spoke, only the crunching sound of their footsteps on the snow.

Of the nine corrupt officials, three were imprisoned, and six returned their ill-gotten gains and were dismissed from their posts and returned to their hometowns.

The eight promoted officials reported for duty on the morning of the fourth day.

Before dawn, the snow had stopped, but the wind was even stronger. Qian Sannian walked at the front, wearing a faded white robe, his back ramrod straight. He was fifty-one, his hair half white, but his eyes were bright.

Behind him followed Sun Shouzhen, Li Laoshi, and others, all in their forties or fifties, their faces etched with the marks of time, but their steps were steady.

Jian Yong waited for them at the entrance of the Household Affairs Corridor.

"Qian Shuzuo." He cupped his hands in greeting.

Qian Sannian was taken aback for a moment, then bowed deeply: "Registrar Jian, this humble official... this humble official is terrified."

"There's no need to be alarmed." Jian Yong helped him up. "The magistrate said that you are familiar with Hanzhong and are willing to work hard. From now on, the land, taxes, and household registration of the Ministry of Revenue will all depend on you to sort them out."

Qian San's eyes were a little red.

"This humble official... will do his utmost."

When the news reached Su Yuan, Su Gu was taking his medicine.

The medicine was dark brown, served in a porcelain bowl, steaming hot. He frowned, swallowing it slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing gently. The old servant stood beside him, holding candied fruit, waiting for him to finish.

After finishing the bowl of medicine, Su Gu let out a long sigh and wiped his mouth.

"How many were moved?" he asked.

The old servant whispered, "Twenty-one. Li Gongcao and Zhao Cangcao have both left. Qian Laosan... has been promoted to Registrar of Households."

Su Gu laughed, then coughed a few times.

The old servant quickly patted his back.

"Good..." Su Gushun caught his breath and leaned back on the couch. "Clearing away the remaining poison. You're really a man of action."

The old servant hesitated: "Master, we..."

"Us?" Su Gu closed his eyes. "We are patients, and patients should recuperate."

He paused, then lowered his voice.

Don't worry about what the doctor will prescribe.

It snowed for half a month.

On the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, the day of the Kitchen God Festival, the snow stopped, but the sky grew even more overcast. Low, leaden-gray clouds pressed down on the battlements of Nanzheng, as if they were about to collapse.

The altar in the south of the city was erected three days ago. It was a three-zhang square earthen platform covered with blue cloth, and red flags were planted at the four corners.

On the table were three sacrificial animals: a pig's head, a sheep's head, and a cow's head, all with their hair removed, white and steaming. The five grains were placed in earthenware basins: yellow millet, white rice, and black beans, piled high.

The audience was packed with people.

At the front were the officials of the prefecture, standing in three rows according to their rank. Chen Lun stood at the head, head bowed, hands tucked into his sleeves.

Yang Song stood beside him, his eyes darting around, glancing at the stage every now and then. Du Xi and Wang Chun stood among the powerful figures, dressed in thick fur coats, their faces solemn.

Further back were the common people, huddled together in their tattered cotton-padded coats, their breath forming a white mist. Some stamped their feet to keep warm, the frozen soles of their shoes thumping dully on the frozen ground.

At exactly 7:00 AM, the drums sounded.

Boom!Boom!Boom!

Three deep drumbeats came from the direction of the prefectural government, silencing all the noise. The crowd quieted down, and hundreds of eyes turned to the west side of the altar.

Liu Bei has emerged.

He wore a dark blue sacrificial robe, a scholar's cap, a leather belt, and carried two swords. Behind him followed Jian Yong, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Qian Zhao, and Zhang Wu, all in military attire, their armor gleaming in the overcast light.

Liu Bei walked steadily up the altar. The wind lifted the hem of his ceremonial robes, revealing the dark trousers and boots underneath.

He stopped before the incense table and accepted the three sticks of incense that Jian Yong offered. The incense was made of sandalwood, as thick as a little finger, with a red dot burning at the tip. He held the incense with both hands, raised it above his head, and bowed three times.

Then insert it into the incense burner.

The wisp of smoke rose straight up, reaching a height of ten feet, before being dispersed by the wind.

Jian Yong unfolded the eulogy, written by Xun Cai the night before, the ink still fresh on the silk. Liu Bei took it, his voice carrying in the cold wind, not loud, but each word resounding: "Heaven and Earth, bless my Hanzhong."

"Last year brought banditry, this year brings a bountiful harvest. With full granaries, the people are well-mannered; with sharp weapons, the borders are at peace."

He read slowly, pausing between each sentence. The audience was completely silent, save for the howling wind.

When the poem was recited, "The salt well yields white salt, and the refugees find peace," a sniffling sound came from the crowd. It was Wu Laoliu from the salt workers' pile. He remembered the days when he was whipped, and his eyes reddened.

When the poem reads "The soldiers fought to the death, their blood staining their robes," the personal guards behind Guan Yu straightened their chests.

In the last paragraph, Liu Bei paused.

He looked up at the sky. The clouds were thick, and a few pale rays of light pierced through the gaps, casting a half-light, half-shadow on his face.

May God bless Hanzhong...

His voice deepened, then rose again, like a dull knife scraping across frozen ground: "May the world... soon see an end to war."

As soon as he finished speaking, there was a moment of silence both on and off the stage.

Then someone in the crowd knelt down. It was an old farmer, his cotton-padded coat patched upon patched. He knelt with a thud in the snow, his forehead touching the ground. Then one by one, they knelt down, like wheat fields swaying in the wind. Officials bowed, and powerful figures lowered their heads.

The snow started falling again, fine and scattered, landing on people's heads and shoulders, without melting.

After the ceremony, Liu Bei did not return to the prefectural government, but went up to the south city wall.

Guan Yu followed.

The two stood by the battlements, gazing at the white expanse beyond the city walls. Distant mountains were shrouded in snow and mist, revealing only blurry outlines, like ink stains dissolved in water. The Mian River was frozen, a gray-white ribbon winding eastward.

"Brother, what's the next step?" Guan Yu asked.

He didn't look at Liu Bei, but looked eastward, towards Luoyang.

Liu Bei didn't answer immediately. He pressed his hand against the brick wall, the surface covered with a thin layer of ice, making his hand cold. He withdrew his hand, breathed on it, and the white mist dissipated in the wind.

"Yun Chang," he suddenly said, "what do you think a dragon in the abyss most wants to do?"

Guan Yu tilted his head, his phoenix eyes narrowing: "Stirring up trouble?"

"No," Liu Bei shook his head. "It's about seeing which cloud above will bring rain and which gust of wind you can get some support from."

He pointed east.

"A dragon in water can stir up wind and rain. But before it can leap to the heavens..." He withdrew his hand, clenched it into a fist, then relaxed it, "it must first see clearly which cloud holds thunder, and which gust of wind can provide support."

Guan Yu remained silent.

He understood Liu Bei's meaning. Hanzhong was secure, the army was well-trained and well-supplied, and the people's hearts were with them. But where to go?

"Brother," he whispered, "where are you going to move?"

Liu Bei smiled but did not answer.

Footsteps pounded up, snowflakes flew. Zhang Fei, draped in a black bearskin cloak, leaped up the city wall, three steps at a time, grinning, "Brother! The sacrificial meat is all gone! The people are scrambling for it, saying they want to share in the lord's good fortune!"

His voice was so loud that it made the snow on the top of the battlements fall down in a flurry.

Liu Bei patted him on the shoulder: "Yide, you've worked hard."

"What's so hard about it!" Zhang Fei rubbed his hands together, his palms red. "It's just cold. Brother, shouldn't we head east next spring? Staying cooped up in Hanzhong is so stifling!"

"Fight?" Liu Bei looked at him. "Fight whom?"

"Fight..." Zhang Fei scratched his head, "Just fight whoever gets in my way!"

Liu Bei patted his shoulder again, this time with more force.