Han Ji

Jian Yong's escape was like a stone thrown into the shallow waters of Zhuojun.

That very evening, Qian Zhao burst into Liu Bei's courtyard, carrying half a roast chicken. As soon as she entered, she exclaimed, "Xuande! When did you learn to compose poetry? And so well! A Yong is telling the whole world, now half of Zhuo County knows about it!"

Liu Bei was sharpening his sword, the stone making a steady, grinding sound. Without looking up, he said, "He talks too fast."

"Good job!" Qian Zhao placed the roast chicken on the stone table, leaned closer, and said, "Who says that a blade of grass can repay the warmth of spring... That does have a certain sentiment. You little rascal, you've been keeping it well hidden!"

Liu Bei stopped what he was doing, glanced at him, and said, "It was just something I said casually, don't take it seriously."

"Others don't take this as just something you casually recited." Jian Yong's voice came from the doorway. He strolled in, his face flushed with excitement. "I copied a few copies and showed them to some educated elders in the county."

Liu Bei smiled bitterly to himself, "Brother Meng Jiao, I didn't mean it; it just slipped out."

Jian Yong sat down and took a sip of water: "Lord Li slammed his fist on the table and said, 'This poem is simple yet profound, with an ancient style! It rivals "Liao E"!' He then asked me which virtuous scholar wrote it!"

Qian Zhao stared wide-eyed: "That amazing?"

"Otherwise?" Jian Yong wiped his mouth and looked at Liu Bei. "Xuande, your casual remark puts all that pretentious literary flair in Zhuojun to shame. Filial piety is the foundation, and people's hearts are connected."

Liu Bei remained silent, continuing to sharpen his sword. He knew the poem's power lay not in its words, but in its emotional resonance that transcended time and space. In the late Han dynasty, when "ruling the world through filial piety" was highly valued, its spread and impact likely exceeded expectations.

Sure enough, the atmosphere changed the next day when he went to the clan's private school. Several of his cousins, who usually ignored him, looked at him with more inquiry, even a hint of respect. When school ended, one of his cousins ​​lingered over and whispered, "Brother Xuande... could you teach me to copy that 'Wanderer's Song'? I want to... show it to Mother."

Liu Bei noticed his slightly red ears and nodded, "Alright."

Two days later, he met with Liu Yuanqi to discuss the itinerary.

Afterwards, Liu Yuanqi looked at Liu Bei and asked, "Did you really write that poem?"

Liu Bei thought to himself, "As expected," and respectfully replied, "Uncle, that day I saw my mother sewing clothes, and something came to mind, so I spoke it offhand. I didn't expect A Yong to..."

Liu Yuanqi raised his hand to stop him: "The poem is good. The filial piety is commendable. However..." His gaze sharpened, "The tallest tree in the forest is the first to be felled by the wind. When you go to Luoyang, you must conceal your strength."

"Nephew will remember this."

Liu Yuanqi hummed in agreement and waved for them to leave. As they left the study, Liu Bei didn't hear his uncle's seemingly casual sigh: "...If your father were still alive, with this poetic talent, it wouldn't have been difficult for him to be recommended as a filial and incorruptible official..."

Liu Deran nudged his arm and chuckled, "Xuande, you're quite something, even my father praises you."

Liu Bei shook his head and remained silent. Literary talent was meaningless. In the coming chaotic world, survival depended on strength. He understood this.

But this "empty reputation" is not useless.

A few days later, Liu Bei went to the market. Passing by Chen's Grain Shop, the shopkeeper, Chen Gui, was seeing off a customer. Upon seeing him, his smile froze for a moment, then became even more enthusiastic, bowing respectfully: "Young Master Liu... I heard you're going to Luoyang to study? Congratulations!"

Liu Bei stopped and returned the greeting: "Manager Chen."

Chen Gui took two steps closer and lowered his voice: "I recently heard that your poems have been circulating. They are sincere and heartfelt, showing your filial piety... If I have offended you in the past, please forgive me."

Seeing the fear and ingratiation in Chen Gui's eyes, Liu Bei understood. With such literary talent and having become a disciple of Lu Zhi, in Chen Gui's eyes, he was no longer a fallen nobleman whom he could easily manipulate.

"Manager Chen, you flatter me. There's no need to bring up the past."

"Yes, yes, yes, you are so generous, young master!" Chen Gui nodded repeatedly.

Leaving Chen Ji's shop and walking through the bustling market, Liu Bei felt no pride, but rather a greater sense of urgency.

The days pass quickly amidst busy anticipation.

Liu's mother devoted almost all her energy to preparing his travel gear. New robes, trousers, and socks were made, and thick winter clothes were prepared in advance, even though he might already be in Luoyang. She still felt it wasn't enough, so she dug out a piece of fine linen from the bottom of her trunk, wanting to make Liu Bei an undergarment.

"Mother, that's enough. We can't take that many." Liu Bei looked at the clothes that were half his height and sighed helplessly.

"It's cold in Luoyang, so bring plenty, just in case." Liu's mother didn't even look up, her needlework flying by.

Liu Bei stopped trying to persuade him and turned to organize his books. He needed to bring along the crucial commentary on the *Strategies of the Warring States* sent by Jian Yong, the handwritten fragments, and the new book Liu Yuanqi had sent through a messenger. The books were heavy; deciding which to include was a problem.

In the afternoon, they came carrying bundles.

"Here, this is for you." He stuffed it into Liu Bei's arms, where it sank heavily.

Inside was a sheathed short knife with a polished handle, a common item. There were also several plasters, smelling of herbs.

"The knife is old, I've sharpened it, it's for self-defense on the road. The plaster is from my uncle, it's good for bruises and sprains." Qian Zhao said casually, but his eyes were serious.

Liu Bei drew his sword, its cold gleam catching his eye. "A fine sword," he said solemnly, sheathing it. "Thank you, Qian Zhao."

"No need to thank me!" Qian Zhao waved his hand dismissively, then lowered his voice, "I've heard there are a lot of spoiled brats in Luoyang who bully others with their power. You're steady, but don't back down. Don't hesitate to show your fists when necessary! If you can't beat them, remember, I'll come and beat them up for you later!"

Liu Bei smiled, feeling a warmth in his heart. He knew Qian Zhao was worried about him; Luoyang was far away, and he was unfamiliar with the area.

"Don't worry, I know."

Qian Zhao then went on to recount some of his江湖 (jianghu, the martial arts world) experiences, such as "never entering a forest" and "inspecting a shop first," which, though mostly from hearsay, were genuinely heartfelt.

Jian Yong came even more frequently, bringing newly collected books, rough maps, and various news about Luoyang that he had inquired about.

"Minister Lu's family has strict discipline, and his disciples must diligently pay their respects to him morning and evening without fail."

"The Imperial Academy in Luoyang has 30,000 students, a mixed bag of talents; one must be careful in making friends."

"Prices are high; in the neighborhoods near the wealthy and powerful, millet is thirty coins more expensive than in Zhuojun!"

The information was varied, but Liu Bei carefully noted it down. This valuable "intelligence" reduced his confusion.

Liu Deran also came a few times. This cousin was not as lively as Qian Zhao, nor as quick-witted as Jian Yong, but he was reliable. The two checked the route, calculated the travel expenses, and discussed the etiquette of becoming apprentices.

"Xuande, you're quick-witted and decisive," Liu Deran said frankly. "On the way and in Luoyang, you'll need to make the decisions on many things."

"Brother Deran, you're too kind. Brothers support each other," Liu Bei said. He knew that Liu Yuanqi had sent Liu Deran along not only to offer him a helping hand, but also to have his steady cousin keep an eye on things from the sidelines.

Preparations were completed one by one. The route was decided: mainly along the official road, passing through Ji Province and entering Sili Province. Travel expenses were collected by Liu Yuanqi, with most of it exchanged for easy-to-carry gold ingots and five-zhu coins, and a small portion for personal expenses. Accompanying them were Liu Bei and Liu Deran, as well as two reliable and strong servants arranged by Liu Yuanqi, responsible for driving the carriage, taking care of the horses, and carrying heavy loads.

With the departure date approaching, boxes and cages were piled up in the yard.

The atmosphere gradually changed.

The excitement remained, but the sorrow of parting quietly crept into my heart like creeping weeds.

Liu Bei continued to practice swordsmanship and read books every day, but he became more silent when practicing swordsmanship, and when reading, he would occasionally raise his head and look at the old mulberry tree in the courtyard, his gaze distant, lost in thought.

The road ahead is unknown, but he is ready to embark on it.