Liu Bian at the start, so you're called Dong Zhuo, right?

Chapter 76 The Way is Slow to Be Spent

The group stayed overnight in Zhuojun and set off the next morning.

Cao Cao did not urge him on. He simply prepared his horse and waited outside the camp gate.

The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, and a layer of frost clung to the blades of grass. His breath condensed into white mist before his eyes, only to be quickly dispersed by the wind.

When Liu Bei came out, he had an old cloak draped over his shoulder and was carrying a small package in his hand, followed by Guan Yu and Zhang Fei.

That's all.

There was no extra luggage, and no elaborate farewell.

Liu Bei glanced back at the shacks—two soldiers were still standing at the door, the local militia he had brought with him, who were now to remain in Zhuojun to await the court's arrangements.

He looked for about two breaths, then turned around, mounted his horse, and rode away.

"Let's go."

Cao Cao looked at him and suddenly remembered the middle-aged man who had pushed the wheelbarrow away.

The same resolute determination. The same unwavering resolve.

But that person headed north.

This person is heading south.

The journey back to Beijing took eleven days.

They arrived a day earlier than they did, but were much quieter.

Cao Cao rode in the lead, with Liu Bei on his right.

The two remained silent most of the time, occasionally exchanging a few words, mostly asking about the road conditions ahead, where the inn was, and whether there were any forks in the road.

Several times, Cao Cao turned his head as if to say something, but he swallowed the words back.

He didn't know what to say.

Should we talk about Luoyang? Liu Bei will see those things with his own eyes sooner or later.

Should he mention the Crown Prince? Cao Cao himself hadn't even figured out who that person was, so how could he explain it to others?

He could only remain silent.

At first, Zhang Fei would occasionally interrupt, asking how big Luoyang was, how magnificent the Eastern Palace was, and what the Crown Prince looked like.

He asked a few questions, but no one answered. He scratched his head, muttered a few more words, and gradually quieted down.

He was certainly not truly quiet.

But that energy was stuck in his chest, and his eyes darted around, trying to memorize every detail along the way—where the roads were easy to travel, where the inns were safe, where the mountains were treacherous, and where troops could be hidden.

Guan Yu remained silent throughout.

He rode his horse with a straight posture, the Green Dragon Crescent Blade lying horizontally on one side of the horse's back, the back of the blade facing upwards, the edge hidden in the scabbard, like a silent lightning bolt.

Cao Cao turned his head and looked at him several times.

Every time he met those phoenix eyes, he quickly looked away.

He couldn't explain why. Cao Mengde had met countless people in his life, and none of them had ever made him feel the need to look away.

But as Guan Yu sat there, something pressed down on him—not a threat, not hostility, but a heavy weight that forced one to confront it.

That's the weight of something.

Cao Cao thought for a long time before coming up with those two words:

integrity.

The city of Luoyang appeared on the horizon at dusk on the eleventh day.

As dusk fell, the outline of the city wall was tinged with a dark red by the setting sun.

The city gate was still open, and people were going in and out, carrying loads, driving donkey carts, and leading children, their steps neither hurried nor slow.

Smoke rose from the city, and the faint laughter of children running through the streets and alleys drifted out. An old man selling tofu carried his load slowly home, stopping every few steps to exchange a few words with the people on the roadside.

Zhang Fei took a deep breath and said in a gruff voice, "The taste of Luoyang is different."

Liu Bei did not reply.

He just stared at the city gate, at the people coming and going, something moving in his eyes.

Cao Cao turned around and glanced at him.

Liu Bei noticed his gaze, turned his face, and nodded at him.

Neither of them spoke.

But Cao Cao suddenly understood what Liu Bei was thinking.

He was thinking about the refugees.

Those refugees who walked past the city gates but couldn't get in and could only continue north.

The first thing to do upon entering the city was to take a few people to the post station to settle them in.

Cao Cao went ahead to the Eastern Palace to report back.

He waited outside the Chengde Hall of the East Palace for a while, and then Wang Ming came out and said that His Highness the Crown Prince was receiving guests inside, and asked Guard Cao to wait in the side hall.

Cao Cao agreed and sat down in the side hall.

A servant brought tea and placed it beside him.

He picked up his teacup and took a sip.

The tea is hot.

Cao Cao's hand suddenly paused.

He remembered the bowl of water he drank in Zhuojun. It was ice cold and tasteless, but he drank it all down, sip by sip.

He recalled the old woman by the brothel, the look of terror in her cloudy eyes as she hid the grass roots behind her back.

He recalled the middle-aged man pushing his wheelbarrow away without looking back.

They were by the roadside, and no one offered them a bowl of hot tea.

Cao Cao put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

He is not someone who is easily moved.

For some reason, that bowl of cold water remained pressed against his chest for eleven days without dissipating.

Inside the Chengde Hall, Liu Bian was talking to Lu Zhi.

Lu Zhi looked older than the last time I saw him.

The lines between his brows had deepened, and a few strands of white had appeared at his temples. But his eyes remained just as sharp, as if concealing a blade.

He returned to the capital earlier than Liu Bian had anticipated.

Liu Bian knew the contents of the memorial Huangfu Song wrote to Emperor Ling of Han beforehand—he saw the official gazette in the Imperial Gazette Office.

Huangfu Song said that Lu Zhi's tactical thinking inspired him and improved the efficiency of suppressing the remnants of the Yellow Turban Rebellion by nearly 30%.

Emperor Ling of Han immediately issued an edict, promoting Lu Zhi to the position of Minister of the Imperial Secretariat, which was half a rank higher than the historical position of Minister of the Imperial Secretariat. He was also granted gold and silk and allowed to return to the capital to report on his duties.

Lu Zhi received the imperial decree and returned to the capital. Without much delay, he went to the Eastern Palace the next day.

Upon seeing Liu Bian, he first gave a proper bow.

Liu Bian didn't ask any further questions, but simply invited him to sit down and asked Wang Ming to serve tea.

The two remained silent for a moment.

Lu Zhi spoke first, his voice steady:

"Your Highness saved me; I must perform this courtesy first."

Liu Bian shook his head: "It was Mr. Xun's plan; I was merely acting on his behalf."

"The injustice done to Lord Lu is known throughout the land. All I did was to exonerate him a few days earlier."

Lu Zhi raised his head and looked at him.

He is a worldly man.

From pacifying the Wuhuan to suppressing the Yellow Turbans, from the imperial court to the battlefield, he has met countless people.

But the young prince sitting opposite him left him speechless.

It wasn't because his words were particularly eloquent, but because his words were so truthful.

He did not say, "I thought of Lord Lu's loyalty and courage, so I stepped in to save him," nor did he say, "Lord Lu is a pillar of the nation, how could I bear to see him suffer injustice?"

He said: "Mr. Xun devised the plan, and I took advantage of the situation. It was only a few days later."

Not a single word in these words is false.

Lu Zhi had been navigating the political landscape for thirty years, and he was least afraid of empty flattery, because empty flattery didn't need to be taken seriously.

But the boy was telling the truth.

"Your Highness," Lu Zhi spoke again, "I thought a lot while I was in the prison cart."

Liu Bian did not interrupt him, but simply held his teacup and listened quietly.

"I wonder, if I were to die, would the Han Dynasty gain one more loyal and righteous man, or lose one more useful person?"

He paused, his voice lowering:

"The more I think about it, the more I feel that—there is no shortage of loyal and brave people. What's lacking is a shortage of useful people."

Liu Bian put down his teacup.

He looked at Lu Zhi, remained silent for a moment, and then said:

"Lord Lu has figured it out, and that's more important than anything else."

The two talked for nearly an hour, covering everything from the military and political remnants of Jizhou after the Yellow Turban Rebellion, to the accumulated problems of local taxation, to the development of border troubles in the north, one topic after another. Liu Bian didn't rush to respond to each point Lu Zhi mentioned, but simply listened, occasionally asking a question, always focusing on the most crucial aspects.

Lu Zhi was speaking when he suddenly stopped.

He looked at Liu Bian, his gaze containing something indescribable.

"Your Highness's questions don't sound like something you've heard for the first time."

Liu Bian did not deny it:

"I know a little bit about it."

Lu Zhi remained silent for a moment, then nodded and did not ask any further questions.

He is a smart man.

Wise people know that sometimes it's better not to ask than to ask.

Just then, Wang Ming's voice came from outside the door:

"Your Highness, Guard Cao has returned."

Liu Bian nodded slightly to Lu Zhi and said in a raised voice, "Let him in."

The curtain was lifted, and Cao Cao walked in, first bowing to Liu Bian, then to Lu Zhi.