Han Ji

Liu Bei was so tightly embraced by him that he could hardly breathe. He managed a weak smile and said, "Brother Bo Gui, you flatter me. It's just a casual visit."

"Come on, you!" Gongsun Zan slapped him hard on the back. "Look at your face, you look like you've been hit by frost. Come on, come to my place, let's get something hot to warm up! This awful weather is freezing!"

Without saying a word, Gongsun Zan half-dragged and half-brought Liu Bei to his small courtyard at the foot of the mountain.

The courtyard was much warmer than the main hall, with a roaring charcoal fire and the aroma of simmering meat broth filling the air. Gongsun Zan pressed Liu Bei down onto the mat and ordered the servants, "Quickly, bring up the stewed mutton, and heat up a pot of wine!"

After swallowing the steaming hot broth and a few cups of warm wine, Liu Bei finally felt his frozen body slowly warming up, but the lingering unease in his heart remained.

Seeing that he was distracted, Gongsun Zan cut off a large piece of mutton with his dagger and stuffed it into his mouth, mumbling, "What's wrong? Are you in trouble? Tell me, in this small corner of Goushi Mountain, no one dares to disrespect me, Gongsun Bogui!"

Liu Bei shook his head, put down his wine cup, looked at the flickering embers, and remained silent for a while before speaking, "Brother Bogui, do you think... there is any hope for this world?"

Gongsun Zan paused in his chewing, glanced at him in surprise, then chuckled, picked up the wine pot, filled his own cup, and then filled Liu Bei's cup as well.

"Save them?" He tilted his head back, took a swig of wine, wiped his mouth, and said, "How can we save them? The eunuchs are sucking the blood of the court, and local tyrants are seizing land. The common people can't survive and are forced to become bandits! Tell me, how can we save them?"

His voice carried the straightforwardness and indignation unique to men from the border regions, lacking the euphemisms of scholars, yet revealing a raw and brutal reality.

"What's the use of us studying the classics and learning strategies for governing the country in our secluded academy?" Gongsun Zan slammed his wine cup heavily on the table, his eyes sharp. "No matter how much we talk, it's not as good as having a sword in hand and soldiers! Xuande, only this is the real truth!"

He patted the hilt of his sword at his waist, making a dull sound.

Looking at Gongsun Zan's face, flushed from the alcohol and excitement, and seeing the undisguised ambition and reverence for power in his eyes, Liu Bei felt a chill run down his spine.

Gongsun Zan's path was a simple and direct one in a chaotic world, yet it was also fraught with bloodshed.

What about your own path?

Lu Zhi taught him to apply his knowledge to practical matters and to understand the root causes, hoping to lead him down a more difficult, and perhaps more circuitous, path.

As for Xun Cai... her cry of "What harm is there in Yu Lan?" is more like a question to all the souls of this era who are unwilling to be bound.

"Weapons... are certainly the ultimate truth." Liu Bei spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but exceptionally clear, "But if one only knows how to use weapons, but doesn't know why to use them, what essential difference is there between him and those starving people in Beizhou who killed their local officials, and those officials who only know how to exploit others?"

Gongsun Zan was taken aback, then frowned at him: "You brat, why are you beating around the bush today? Have you been bewitched by Master Lu?"

Liu Bei smiled, not continuing the topic, and raised his wine cup: "Brother Bogui, I toast you. Thank you for your hospitality."

Some words, some thoughts, can only be pondered by oneself and cannot be shared with others.

In the days that followed, Liu Bei seemed like a completely different person.

He still gets up at dawn to recite, listens to lectures at dawn, practices martial arts in the afternoon, and reads books in the evening. The rules remain unchanged, but those who pay even a little attention to him in the study notice that the boy from Zhuojun has become more reserved and even a little cold and hard, with his original calmness becoming more introverted.

His eyes were no longer the clear, inquisitive gaze of a student; when he occasionally looked up, they seemed to hold something heavy within them, like ink that could not be dissolved.

Lu Zhi observed this without saying much, but the content of his instruction became increasingly in-depth, and also increasingly... dangerous.

The books on his desk were no longer just simple commentaries on the classics; they now contained many maps, descriptions of mountains and rivers, local products, and even some policy essays on military affairs and finance. For some questions, Lu Zhi would even ask him to try to draft memorials, which, though immature, required him to be substantial and to the point.

That afternoon, Lu Zhi pushed a scroll of water conservancy map in front of Liu Bei.

"Juyang Weir," Lu Zhi pointed to the location marked on the map, "is located in Jizhou and is crucial for the irrigation of farmland and the transport of grain in several counties. In recent years, it has frequently breached, causing frequent floods. The imperial court has repeatedly allocated funds for repairs, but the results have been unsatisfactory. If you have the time, you can consider how to both eradicate the floods and resettle the people displaced by them."

This is not a textual criticism; it is a real and thorny political problem.

Liu Bei took the scroll, finding it heavy in his hands.

He knew this was a new test from Lu Zhi. It wasn't just about knowledge, but also about his ability to execute and innovate.

Back in his quarters, Liu Bei locked himself in his room, deep in thought as he stared at the rudimentary water conservancy map. How to dredge the water? How to reinforce it? Where would the money and provisions come from? How to mobilize the people's labor? How to prevent officials from embezzling funds?

The problems are like a tangled mess of yarn.

He recalled the scattered engineering knowledge from his previous life and, combining it with the technological conditions of this era, scribbled and drew on drafts. Sometimes he felt he had found his direction, and other times he discovered that the path was blocked.

Seeing that he was working so hard that he forgot to eat and sleep, Liu Deran tried to persuade him several times, but when he wouldn't listen, he could only shake his head and let him be.

Fine snow began to fall again outside the window, and the sky was overcast. The charcoal fire in the dormitory was insufficient, and the chill seeped in through the cracks in the door. Liu Bei rubbed his numb fingers, his brow furrowed, staring at the "Juyang Weir" on the map, which resembled a stubborn ailment, utterly at a loss.

Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door of the dormitory.

Liu Bei assumed it was Liu Deran or Gongsun Zan, and without even looking up, said, "Go in."

The door creaked open, and an unfamiliar old servant entered, dressed simply and with a respectful demeanor.

"Young Master Liu." The old servant bowed and presented a flat object wrapped tightly in blue cloth with both hands. "My master ordered me to give this to you, Young Master."

Liu Bei was taken aback, put down his pen, stood up and took the pen: "Who is your master?"

The old servant lowered his head meekly and said, "Master only needs to say so, young master will understand after reading. This old servant will take his leave." After saying this, without waiting for Liu Bei to ask any more questions, he quietly withdrew and gently closed the door.

It came suddenly and left just as abruptly.

Liu Bei held the blue cloth bundle; it felt slightly heavy and cool to the touch. Puzzled, he walked to the window and, in the dim light, carefully untied the rope binding the cloth.

The blue cloth was spread out, revealing no signed letter inside, only a stack of high-quality Caihou paper and a folded silk painting with even more exquisite details.

He first unfolded the stack of papers. On them were neat and upright characters, yet powerful enough to penetrate the paper, copying several exquisite passages about water conservancy projects from the "Treatise on Rivers and Canals" in the Records of the Grand Historian. Next to them were annotations written in tiny regular script, offering unique insights and hitting the nail on the head.

Liu Bei's heart skipped a beat, and his breathing became slightly rapid.

He immediately unfolded the silk drawing again. It didn't depict the Juyang Weir, but rather a sketch of a cleverly designed sluice gate, with annotations explaining its working principle and key points on how to construct it using local materials. This drawing clearly offered a possible solution to the problem of earthen and rock dams like the Juyang Weir being prone to collapse!

A timely help!

Liu Bei's fingers trembled slightly. He turned to the last page, and at the end of the stack of papers, he saw a few lines of equally neat handwriting:

"While browsing through old books, I came across the strategies for water management left by ancient sages. I gained some insights and have transcribed them here. Perhaps they will be of some help to the matters you have been worrying about recently."

There was no signature.

But the handwriting, the tone, the precise "slight benefit" that seemed to see right through his current predicament...

Suddenly, Liu Bei saw the image of Xun Yu's elegant face, raised in astonishment, behind the moon gate in the back garden of Xun Yu's residence.

Xun Cai!

is her!

My heart felt like it had been suddenly squeezed, and then it began to pound violently. A surge of heat flowed from my chest to my limbs, dispelling the lingering chill and anxiety.

He clutched the stack of papers and silk paintings tightly, as if he were holding a ball of fire.

Outside the window, fine snow fell silently.

Inside the dormitory, the boy stared at the neat handwriting, his melancholy vanishing and replaced by an astonishing brightness.