Weird Three Kingdoms

Chapter 3955 Cao Cao's Story:
Dawn still came a little late, but Cao Cao woke up very early.

It's not that the bed is uncomfortable to sleep in, or that he's not used to sleeping in it, but rather that he's past the age of being a heavy sleeper.

He slept well last night, but the older he gets, the shorter his sleep time becomes.

It's as if his body is telling him that he doesn't have much time left and shouldn't waste any more time sleeping.

Cao Cao got up, put on his outer garment, and opened the door.

The courtyard and the distant mountains were shrouded in a thin mist.

The fog of late autumn is like the sorrow in my heart.

The trees in the courtyard struggled to spread their branches amidst the mist, as if trying to push aside the overwhelming sorrow.

But it was all in vain...

The chill seemed to penetrate through his outer garment and seep into Cao Cao's lower back.

The old aches and pains resurfaced uncontrollably, causing Lao Cao to frown.

I'm getting old after all.

Back then, even when he led his troops on horseback, chasing Yuan Shu day and night without sleep, it wasn't this extreme.

Some inexplicable shapes surged within the mist, like vengeful spirits with twisted faces, whispering or perhaps cursing.

"Heh...yes, I've finally met my match..."

Old Cao looked at the old tree and the mist, muttering to himself until the faint sounds from other places brought him back to reality.

He silently tightened his coat, then drew some water from the large water vat in the courtyard.

The water is very cold.

When it splashed on his face, Cao Cao couldn't help but gasp.

But it also reminded him that he was still alive.

To be alive is to feel cold and feel pain.

Yes, he is still alive.

but……

What is the purpose of living?
The water in the basin gradually calmed down, and he looked up at it.

He also looked down at the hazy, aged face reflected in the water...

Puffy eyes, gray hair, and deep nasolabial folds.

So ugly...

Cao Cao reached out and stirred up the water.

After washing up, he headed towards the kitchen, following the directions Uncle Fu had given him the day before.

There weren't too many people at Madam Ding's estate, so the kitchen area didn't look too cluttered.

The kitchen was located in the northwest corner of the manor; it was a separate mud-brick house. Outside the house was a small, flat area covered with tattered mats, where seven or eight people were sitting.

The chimney on the roof emitted bluish-gray smoke, which stubbornly rose into the mist.

The door was open, and you could see people moving around inside. The aroma of food wafted out, carrying with it a warm scent.

Cao Cao paused slightly under the watchful eyes of the manor workers, then walked straight into the room, his gaze sweeping over the rising steam...

Three iron pots were placed on the large stove against the wall: one for cooking porridge, one for steaming cakes, and one for boiling water.

The cook was a plump woman wearing an apron, stirring the porridge pot with a large wooden ladle. When she saw him come in, she glanced at him briefly, then continued working without saying a word or offering a warm greeting.

Cao Cao turned his head and saw a large cabinet on the other side.

That's right, the tableware is still in that cupboard from my memory.

However, he only came to visit back then and never sat outside to eat a meal with these helpers.

After Cao Cao took his utensils and walked to the stove where the cook was in charge, the plump cook took his wooden bowl and skillfully ladled a spoonful of porridge into it. "You can only take two steamed buns. The pickled vegetables are in that jar. You can have another bowl of porridge, and hot soup is optional. After you finish eating, wash the bowl and put it in that basket."

The cook spoke in a flat tone, as if she were speaking to any new employee.

Cao Cao took the wooden bowl that the cook handed back to him.

Due to prolonged use, the wooden bowl has become soaked with various soups and liquids, making it impossible to discern its original wood color. Only a faint grayish-brown remains in the rough wood shavings at the edge.

Cao Cao held it, and subconsciously rubbed it with his hand.

Such crude tableware was not even used by the lowest-ranking servants in the manor back then...

But now he holds it very steadily and firmly.

The porridge was made from brown rice and beans; it wasn't too thin, but rather a bit sticky.

Cao Cao took two more steamed buns.

The steamed buns were mixed with wild vegetables; they were grayish-black and quite substantial.

Pickled vegetables are radish strips.

It's been pickled until it's dark black.

He carried the bowl outside and found an empty spot at the end of the mat to sit down.

The laborers buried themselves in their food, occasionally glancing at Cao Cao, but quickly looking away. No one went forward to ask questions, and no one tried to cause trouble.

The situation where there were always treacherous subjects trying to harm me did not occur.

After all, in most cases, ordinary people are too busy making a living to be troublemakers.

Even when the hired laborers saw Cao Cao, this "new face," they didn't specifically discuss him. Occasionally, they would whisper among themselves during meals, mostly talking about field matters, whose fields had a good harvest, or how someone's children and grandchildren were doing...

No one discussed politics, let alone the changing of the world.

Naturally, no one talked about "Lord Cao" or "Prime Minister" anymore...

Oh, the current prime minister should be "Lord Fei" now, right?
Cao Cao grinned, broke off a small piece of the steamed wild vegetable cake, and soaked it in the porridge.

The steamed cake was hard.

If he were younger, even if he were tough, he would probably just bite straight into it.

If he were a middle-aged man leading troops, he would have to endure the pain and grit his teeth even if it was just for show...

Now, soaking the food until soft before eating it has become his habit.

Paomo (pita bread soaked in mutton soup) is not bad.

If you don't have beef or mutton soup, thin porridge or hot soup will do.

The cakes were coarse, the bran was tough, and the wild vegetables were bitter.

Even pickled vegetables are salty with a hint of bitterness.

He chewed slowly, and could feel the rough food scraping against his throat as he swallowed.

The same goes for the porridge; some beans weren't fully cooked, stubbornly resisting the pressure between the teeth.

But he ate very seriously, taking a bite of bread, a sip of porridge, and occasionally a bite of salted radish.

The pickled radish was extremely salty, but he had to eat it.

Because I have to work today...

One must work hard all day to earn a meal.

The surrounding employees finished eating one after another and got up, so Cao Cao had to speed up the process of drinking his porridge.

While washing the dishes, a man around forty years old suddenly asked Cao Cao, "Brother... are you new here?"

Old Cao probably never expected that one day the word "newcomer" would fall on his head, and he was stunned for a moment before nodding in agreement.

The middle-aged man had dark skin and large hands. The wrinkles on his face and hands, and even the crevices under his fingernails, seemed to be filled with dirt that could not be washed away. He was clearly someone who had spent his days fighting against the land, and whose ancestors and fathers were the kind of "incompetent and lazy" people that the gentry children talked about.

Cao Cao replied somewhat vaguely, "I just arrived yesterday."

"Looking at you...brother, you don't seem like someone who's used to farm work..." the man said, sizing him up. "Thin calluses on your hands...were you an accountant before? Or a merchant?"

Cao Cao paused, then smiled, "...In the past...I did some clerical work..."

"Wow! Amazing! I didn't expect it to really be an old gentleman!" The man immediately showed some respect, then some doubt. "Then what are you doing here, old gentleman? Is it possible that you're in the city... I mean, although the manor owner is kind and pays well, this kind of farm work is really not something a scholar can do..."

"We all need to make a living..." Cao Cao said.

"Huh?" The man didn't understand.

Cao Cao quickly added, "To live, you need to eat, and to work..."

"That makes sense!" The man nodded. "To live... you have to work..."

The man nodded, not asking further about Cao Cao's family or other circumstances. Instead, he began to tell Cao Cao about the work to be done next: "The crops have all been harvested, so there's not much work to do... but the manor owner suddenly wants to clear some wasteland... over there on the back mountain. The gullies and ravines there are full of loose rocks, it'll be difficult... We tried to cultivate it in previous years, but everything we planted died, so it became wasteland... I don't know what the manor owner was thinking this time..."

Cao Cao listened silently without interrupting.

Although there weren't many bowls and chopsticks, Cao Cao wasn't as nimble as he used to be, so he washed them rather slowly.

Upon seeing this, the middle-aged man reached out and scooped up the bowl, quickly washed it clean, and stacked it in a bamboo basket to the side.

"Speech..."

Cao Cao had barely begun speaking when the man turned and left.

……

……

At the beginning of Chen Shi (7-9 AM), the fog dissipated somewhat, but the sky remained overcast.

Uncle Fu arrived and brought Cao Cao some tools.

In every manor, there seems to be a "Uncle Fu," a "Brother Fu," or a "Brother Fu"...

Just like how dogs are often named "Wangcai" or "Laifu".

But who cares what the dog's real name is?

There aren't many tools.

A hoe, a pickaxe, a winnowing basket, a carrying pole, and two bamboo baskets.

The hoe handle was newly replaced, still bearing the raw, green scent of tree bark.

The pickaxe was rusty, but the blade was sharpened to a shine.

As for other bamboo baskets, winnowing trays, and carrying poles, they are all common items.

"Master Cao," Uncle Fu said somewhat awkwardly, "Madam instructed that if you wish to stay... then that piece of wasteland in the southeast corner of the back mountain will be entrusted to you to manage... it's said... as compensation for food and lodging... this land is difficult to manage, I'll have Uncle Zhao take you around for a few days first..."

Cao Cao took the tools.

He weighed the hoe in his hand.

It wasn't heavy, nor was it light, but its center of gravity was very forward, like a battle axe, completely different from the horse spear and swords that Cao Cao was used to.

The short pickaxe is even heavier.

Uncle Fu looked on with a complicated expression. "Master Cao, perhaps... this old servant could talk to the madam and ask for an easier job? Like inventorying the storeroom, or teaching the children on the estate to read..."

"No need," Cao Cao interrupted Old Uncle Fu. "This is fine."

Cao Cao picked up his hoe and pickaxe, and followed Uncle Fu to the back of the manor.

The hill behind the manor is actually a gentle slope, about three miles away.

The slope was overgrown with weeds, some reaching waist-high, all withered and yellow, trembling in the wind.

There is a dry stream at the bottom of the slope, with pebbles of all sizes exposed at the bottom.

The piece of land that Uncle Fu mentioned was on the hillside behind the mountain, about two or three acres in size, and you could vaguely see traces of it having been cultivated before.

Several crooked and collapsed field ridges have long been overgrown with weeds.

An old man had been squatting at the edge of the ground. When he saw them coming, he stood up and greeted them.

The old man was thin and small, with a slightly hunched back, deep wrinkles on his face like tree bark, and somewhat cloudy eyes, but his hands and feet were still very nimble.

"Uncle Zhao, this is Mr. Cao," Uncle Fu introduced briefly. "Madam instructed that you take him along for a few days."

Uncle Fu didn't say much, and Uncle Zhao didn't ask any more questions.

Uncle Fu left quickly, and Cao Cao, carrying his tools, was somewhat at a loss as to where to begin.

Uncle Zhao looked Cao Cao up and down, his gaze lingering on Cao Cao's hands for a moment. "Do you know how to use a hoe?"

"It has been used," Cao Cao said.

Cao Cao wasn't lying, but the last time he held a hoe was the last time...

Cough cough, that was at least twenty or thirty years ago.

At that time, he was demoted and returned to his hometown to farm, where he managed agricultural affairs for a period of time.

But it only lasted for a short period of time.

After that, he basically never picked up a hoe again, only knives and guns.

"Usefulness and knowing how to use it are two different things..." Uncle Zhao said calmly, without any hint of politeness despite Uncle Fu addressing him as "Mr. Cao." "Look at this land," he said, rubbing the ground with his foot to reveal stones beneath the surface. "There are many stones underneath... When hoeing, you have to avoid them... and there are grass roots, especially thatch; the roots can grow three feet deep and are tightly bound... Clearing this kind of land can't be rushed, nor can it be done brute force."

Uncle Zhao didn't waste any words and immediately demonstrated. He swung the hoe, his movements as fluid as breathing, yet also imbued with the mysteries of the universe. The hoe traced an arc, its blade slicing diagonally into the soil, avoiding any exposed rocks. Then, with a pull and a lift, a large clump of earth, roots and all, was turned up.

Uncle Zhao flicked his hand, and the clod of earth that had been turned up shattered in the air, revealing white grass roots, which fell down along with small stones.

The hoe was slightly flipped, hooking onto a piece of rock that had been dug out, and then it was swung...

*Snap. Glug glug...*

The stones landed some distance away and rolled down the hillside.

"See? Like this." Uncle Zhao tossed aside the stones he'd flipped over a few more times, then propped himself up with his hoe, glanced slightly at Cao Cao, and said, "Hold the hoe at an angle, using a bit of leverage. If that doesn't work, turn the ground over first, then pick up the stones and throw them."

Uncle Zhao's tone was as if he were saying one plus one equals two.

Cao Cao imitated him and swung a hoe.

At first, things seemed fine, but Cao Cao soon encountered problems.

If you don't use enough force, you won't be able to pry up the whole patch of turf; you'll only dig a shallow hole, and then you'll have to start with a second hoe, a third hoe...

If too much force is used, the hoe will embed itself deeply into the soil, getting stuck in the gravel layer, and cannot be pulled out.

Uncle Zhao shook his head, walked over, stepped on the side of the hoe, and with a press and pry, easily pulled it out. "That's not how you use force. This is about tending the land; you have to work with its nature. Also, don't hoe on rocks; not only will you break your tool, but you might also hurt your hand..."

Cao Cao nodded, took a breath, picked up his hoe, and continued.

However, it seems that the more you try to avoid stones, the more likely you are to accidentally hoe onto them...

Don't stare at the rock!

Uncle Zhao immediately noticed Cao Cao's mistake: "Watch the ground! Don't look at the stones! Wherever your eye goes, that's where your hoe goes!"

Half an hour later, Cao Cao was finally able to do what Uncle Zhao did: with a single stroke of his hoe, he could not only avoid the surface stones but also turn over a decent clod of earth. However, Cao Cao's arms were so sore that he could not lift them, and his back was so stiff that he could not straighten up.

"Alright, take a rest first..." Uncle Zhao looked at Cao Cao, shook his head in disdain, and said, "Rest under that tree. Do you need me to help you?"

"No need..." Cao Cao said through gritted teeth, using his hoe to move to the tree, where he sat down with his legs apart, leaning against the tree trunk.

As his muscles relaxed, he let out a groan.

This sitting posture is not elegant.

If a member of the aristocratic class were to see this, he would most likely immediately squint, then tilt his head slightly, curl his lips into a smirk, and let out a soft snort. The snort was extremely faint and brief, yet enough for those nearby to hear.

At this moment, Cao Cao couldn't care less about elegance; he only felt soreness in his arms, stiffness in his back, and even his hands...

Cao Cao looked down and found two large blisters on the back of his hand.

One of them was broken, with blood seeping out mixed with dirt.

Uncle Zhao caught a glimpse of this, pulled a small earthenware jar from his robes, and handed it to Cao Cao. "Apply some ointment. The soil in this wasteland is poisonous; if your hands rot, it'll be even more troublesome."

Cao Cao thanked him and accepted the gift, then scooped out some brown paste and applied it to his face.

Cool and stinging.

Cao Cao tore off a strip of his inner lining and wrapped it around his hand.

Uncle Zhao squinted at Cao Cao's actions and suddenly asked, "You... served in the army?"

"Huh?" Cao Cao was taken aback.

Uncle Zhao pointed to the web of Cao Cao's hand, saying, "In the army... that's how it's wrapped..."

Cao Cao lowered his head, seemingly avoiding Zhao Laoshu's gaze, "These days... who hasn't served in the army..."

"..." Uncle Zhao was silent for a moment, then nodded, as if letting out a sigh of relief from the deepest part of his being. "That's true... I have three grown sons, all of them are in the army... none of them are coming back..."

"Huh?!" Cao Cao looked up and saw that Uncle Zhao had already looked away from him and was gazing into the distance, as if he was looking at something, or as if he was just staring blankly.

Uncle Zhao's cloudy eyes held no tears, only a murky look, as if the pain had melted into them.

After a moment, Uncle Zhao stood up. "Continue?"

"Alright, continue." Cao Cao also struggled to stand up.

As the sun rose higher, the fog completely dissipated, and the sky turned a murky grayish-white.

Sweat slid down his forehead and dripped onto the ground.

The pain in my lower back became more and more pronounced. Every time I bent over to swing the hoe, it felt like several needles were pricking my back.

But he didn't stop, hoe after hoe, and hoe after hoe.

I dare not stop.

Once you've had a sudden outburst, it's not so easy to get back up.

Uncle Zhao initially gave instructions from the side, but later he went to clean up another piece of land on his own, only occasionally glancing back.

At noon, Uncle Fu personally brought the meal.

Each person received two mixed flour pancakes, a bamboo tube of water, and a small piece of salted fish.

Looking at the food, Uncle Zhao raised an eyebrow in surprise, glanced at Cao Cao, then exchanged a look with Uncle Fu, nodded, and said nothing.

The heavy physical labor had left Cao Cao starving and thirsty. The food he had eaten that morning seemed to have turned into sweat and been completely swallowed up by the fields.

Cao Cao plopped down and swallowed the cake with his neck straight.

The mixed flour pancakes were softer than the wild vegetable pancakes, and seemed particularly sweet and delicious.

Even the clear water inside the bamboo tube was like a refreshing nectar.

The salted fish didn't smell fishy or smelly at all; it just smelled unusually delicious.

Uncle Zhao squatted to the side, also eating very quickly.

The two wolfed down their food, finishing it almost instantly, even licking the crumbs into their mouths.

"Mr. Cao...did you really work as a clerk before?" Uncle Zhao suddenly asked.

Cao Cao nodded without hesitation.

"How did things come to this?" Uncle Zhao sighed deeply. "These days, even a scholar... can manage to make a living..."

Cao Cao was silent for a moment, then said, "...Our lord committed a crime before...we dare not employ him now..."

"Oh, I see." Uncle Zhao nodded. "There have been quite a few people like you these past few years... but it's not easy for you to come out unscathed."

Cao Cao did not respond.

"Fine, I won't ask anymore." Uncle Zhao stood up, shook his leg, and said, "Since we're here, we should just focus on taking care of this land... This land doesn't care who you are; it only cares how much effort you put in... The more effort you put in, the more you'll reap. There aren't so many twists and turns."

Cao Cao nodded in agreement.

Continue in the afternoon.

Cao Cao gradually figured out some tricks and became more efficient, but he also expended more physical energy.

Sweat soaked through his clothes, clinging to his back.

His face was covered in a mixture of mud and sweat, leaving streaks and patterns.

The blisters broke and were rubbed again, and blood seeped through the cloth strips wrapped around his hands.

Is it painful?
bitter.

pain.

But he can't stop.

If I stop, certain images will flood my mind...

Candlelight in the palace of Xudu.

Banners on the battlefield of Guandu.

The night banquet on the Bronze Sparrow Terrace...

At that moment, he raised his wine cup, laughing heartily, "My lords, drink to victory!"

Then it became a square patch of sky within the Flying Bear Pavilion in Chang'an...

Spring, summer, autumn, winter; day and night.

Finally, heaven and earth turned upside down, and the old, square sky became the land before us...

One hoe stroke, one drop of sweat.

One step, one hoe.

As dusk approached, Cao Cao swung his hoe, only to hit a large, hidden rock beneath the soil. The impact sent numbness through his arm, and the hoe flew from his hand, landing at his feet and nearly injuring him.

Uncle Zhao rushed over, first checking that Cao Cao wasn't injured, then picking up the fallen hoe. "Not bad, the first day went pretty well. Let's call it a day..."

After a pause, Uncle Zhao added, "Come early tomorrow, work as much as you can while it's still cool. Remember to wrap your hands up even thicker."

Cao Cao nodded, wanting to speak, but his throat was too dry to utter a sound.

On the way back to the manor, Cao Cao walked slowly, each step feeling like he was walking on cotton.

The tools, carried on my shoulder, grew heavier and heavier, as if they carried not just the wooden handles and iron heads, but the weight of the entire mountain.

By the time I returned to the secluded courtyard, it was already dark.

There was no one in the room, but the lights were on.

Cao Cao, his hands and feet trembling, slowly moved into the room and saw a bowl of steaming porridge on the table, with a small dish of pickles next to it.

The porridge was made with fine rice, making it much softer and more glutinous than the brown rice porridge served at breakfast, and it was even sprinkled with some chopped green onions.

This porridge definitely wasn't made in the main kitchen.

Cao Cao stood and watched for a while, but did not rush to eat. Instead, he moved out the door, washed his hands and face, and then slowly came back to sit down and pick up his bowl.

The porridge was a little cold, but it was still smooth and creamy. The aroma of scallions blended with the millet, sliding down his esophagus and warming his cold, thirsty stomach.

He ate it spoonful by spoonful, even scraping the rim of the bowl clean.

After finishing his meal, Cao Cao took off his outer garment to examine the wound on his hand.

All the blisters have burst, and my palms are red and swollen.

Cao Cao fetched water to wash the wound again, but the icy water stung his wound. He gritted his teeth, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

He reapplied the medicine, blew out the light, and lay down.

He slept soundly that night, without even dreaming.

He vaguely sensed someone coming and standing by the bed, but he wasn't alarmed at all, nor did he reach for any swords or knives...

When I woke up, the sky was already tinged with a faint bluish-white.

He noticed a small cloth bag had appeared on the bedside table.

Inside were two brand-new cloth socks, with fine and solid stitches.

There was also a small jar of ointment, with a red paper sticker on the porcelain bottle that read "Muscle Regeneration Powder".

That's all...

There was no note.

No signature.

He pushed open the doors and windows.

There was no one outside.

The morning fog was still thick, but a faint golden-red hue had already appeared on the eastern horizon.

Two sparrows had landed on the branches of the old tree in the courtyard, chirping to each other and shaking the dew off their feathers.

Cao Cao looked at it, a slight smile appearing on his face, then turned and picked up his tools.

His hands still hurt, and his back was still sore, but he felt that he might be able to drive a few more yards today.

As he walked out of the side courtyard, he glanced back at the direction of the main courtyard.

The courtyard gate was tightly closed, and nothing could be seen.

He turned his head and strode forward.

A morning breeze blows in my face, carrying the cool scent of grass and trees.

Now, all he has are these few acres of barren land and an old house.

For some reason, Cao Cao felt more at ease than in his magnificent mansion back then.

At least, I won't toss and turn at night unable to sleep.

At least, there's no need to worry about the land betraying us.

At least, the sweat that flowed was real, and the hoe in his hand was heavy...

Cao Cao gripped the hoe handle tightly; his palm still ached, but he could bear it.

The pain of living may be for the sake of that bowl of sweet porridge.