Weird Three Kingdoms

Chapter 3956 Cao Cao's Story:
After the Frost's Descent, the land is gradually sealed off.

The barren fields were covered with a layer of white frost in the early morning, as if the harsh winter had sneaked over here in the middle of the night, then crossed its legs and left a lingering stench.

When Cao Cao carried his hoe and pickaxe to the edge of the field, Uncle Zhao was already there.

"Mr. Cao, you're still a bit late." Uncle Zhao stood up. "It's getting cold; if we don't hurry, it'll be too late..."

"I'll go earlier tomorrow."

Cao Cao offered no explanation or excuse.

He walked to the edge of the field, put down his tools, and looked at the wasteland in front of him.

The breath I exhaled condensed into white mist in front of my eyes, which was quickly dispersed by the wind.

The wound on my palm has scabbed over, but it still stings when I grip the hoe handle.

But Cao Cao didn't care about this pain.

It was perhaps only through these pains that he was reminded that he was still alive.

Uncle Zhao pointed to the piece of wasteland that Cao Cao had cultivated and said, "That half-acre wasn't turned badly. Let it dry for two days, then dig it deeper... There are still a lot of old grass roots in the soil. If they aren't removed, they'll grow back after next spring's rain."

"So today..." Cao Cao asked, "which area are we going to turn over today?"

"Today..." Uncle Zhao's gaze drifted intentionally or unintentionally over Cao Cao's hand, then he pointed to another spot on the hillside, "Today, let's first collect the pebbles from that field and pile them along the edge... Only after it's clean can we cultivate it."

Cao Cao looked in the direction Uncle Zhao pointed and saw that there were quite a few weeds on the ground, but even more exposed pebbles, some as big as a palm and some as small as chicken eggs, densely embedded in the soil, gleaming bluish-white against the frost.

"What could originally be grown on this land?" Cao Cao asked.

Uncle Zhao pointed to the mountain, "This land used to be quite good... but then a landslide occurred, and a lot of rocks fell down, ruining it. Nothing grows well here... The owner tried planting beans in his early years, but the harvest was less than half of what he could get elsewhere... After that, it was abandoned."

Cao Cao nodded and followed Uncle Zhao to the edge of the barren hillside.

The wasteland actually has decent soil quality, but after the landslide, it was covered with large areas of rocks and uncultivated yellow mud, making it unsuitable for growing crops.

Cao Cao squatted down and grabbed a handful of soil.

The soil contains a lot of sand, and it looks clumpy on the surface, but it crumbles when you squeeze it.

"This soil can't retain water... We need to turn it over a foot deep first, bringing up the lower layer of soil... Then apply enough fertilizer, and it might improve the situation," Cao Cao said subconsciously.

Uncle Zhao looked at Cao Cao with some surprise, "I didn't realize Mr. Cao knew about farming?"

Cao Cao threw down the soil in his hand, paused for a moment, and said, "I know a little bit... I handled land reclamation in my early years and read some documents..."

"Just reading the documents isn't enough..." Uncle Zhao shook his head, using the handle of his pickaxe to pull back the soil for Cao Cao to see. "You need to plow a foot deeper... Look at these stones. How can we plow without clearing them away first? And fertilizer... Where will we get so much fertilizer? The manor's fertilizer is reserved for the best land... If we can clear away all the stones from this land and plant some beans to nourish it for a few years, that'll be good enough."

Cao Cao fell silent.

Back then, when Cao Cao implemented the military-agricultural colonies, he only looked at the documents and statistics to see how many hectares of land had been cultivated and how many bushels of grain had been harvested, and then calculated how many soldiers could be supported...

As for the soil quality, whether the farm tools were suitable, and whether there were enough oxen, he never paid attention to them.

All he wanted was a result.

As for the process...

As for the process, how much hard work went into harvesting millet, how many people got up early in the morning, how many drops of sweat were shed, and how many hoes were worn down...

At that time, he didn't care or pay attention.

Back then, he was in charge of important matters, had a grasp of the overall direction, and considered the big picture. He wouldn't have cared about these trivial matters.

Back then, it was always the farmers who suffered the most.

Now, he has become a farmer and has personally experienced the hardships of farming.

"Small stones are fine... but for big stones, you need a pickaxe... like this..." Uncle Zhao demonstrated, digging a relatively large stone out of the ground and then tossing it aside. "Got it? Then get to work!"

Cao Cao said nothing more and began to deal with the stone.

Once he started, Cao Cao realized that this job, which looked simple and easy, was actually more grueling than tilling the land...

Aside from throwing stones, the other tasks don't require the same physical strength as tilling or clearing land, but you have to bend over constantly and use your eyes, body, hands, and feet in a coordinated manner.

Keep your eyes on your subordinates, and also watch your step.

The waist needs to be bent for a while and straight for a while.

If you use too little force, you can't lift it; if you use too much force, you'll lose your balance and have to rely on your legs for support...

Moreover, Lao Cao didn't know any tricks; he just wanted to pick up every stone he saw in the soil.

At first, Lao Cao had the leisure to judge the texture of the stones, which one was hard, which one was soft, which one could be used for building embankments, and which one could only be thrown aside. But soon he didn't have time to think about these things anymore...

As the sun rose higher, the frost melted, and the ground became wet, with mud covering shoes and trousers.

My lower back is getting increasingly sore, as if a tendon is being stretched and stuck in my bones, making it difficult to straighten up every time.

My finger was cut by the edge of the gravel, and blood seeped out, mixed with mud. It hurt at first, then went numb.

He once ruled the world, his hands capable of taking the lives of thousands upon thousands, but now even dealing with a few stones and clods of earth is excruciating...

Cao Cao didn't stop, letting the sweat drip down his face, only managing a bitter smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Mr. Cao... Mr. Cao! Take a break!"

Uncle Zhao called out from not far away.

"Oh... okay..."

Cao Cao struggled to sit up, and his vision went black for a moment.

He staggered, supporting his waist with one hand and leaning on his pickaxe with the other, and slowly walked to the edge of the field and sat down.

Uncle Zhao handed him half a pancake. Cao Cao rubbed the dirt off his hands, didn't say anything about washing them, and took it, slowly munching on it.

The heavy workload had left Cao Cao extremely hungry, and he no longer cared about etiquette or decorum.

The bread was hard, my teeth were old, and I needed some water to chew it.

After eating most of a steamed bun, Cao Cao finally regained some strength.

Looking at the pile of stones Cao Cao had collected, Uncle Zhao couldn't help but laugh. "Your method of collecting stones... won't do... farming doesn't require such precision... this should suffice..."

Cao Cao looked at the stones and said, "Since we're going to pick them up, let's pick them up as cleanly as possible."

"Ha, we can't afford to wait... the weather waits for no one!" Uncle Zhao sighed. "At your method, this land will take at least a month or two to prepare! But now it's Frost's Descent, and winter is just around the corner! Once the ground freezes, it'll be even harder! If it clumps together, how will we manage? We have to clear the land before it freezes so we can plant in the spring..."

Cao Cao fell silent again.

He was only thinking about doing things well, and he used to be very thoughtful and meticulous, but now he was like a greenhorn in front of Uncle Zhao.

These greenhorns, facing the land and crops, forgot that farming is all about timing!
Whether it's Frost's Descent, Beginning of Winter, Awakening of Insects, or Grain Rain, there are things that must be done during each solar term.

If you miss it, it's a season of desolation.

"Then what should we do?" Cao Cao stopped insisting on his own opinion and humbly asked.

"A quick check is fine." Uncle Zhao stood up and demonstrated.

Uncle Zhao carefully removed the large stones from the surface, picked them out, and threw them away, but he completely ignored the smaller stones, letting them mix with the soil. He said, "When it's time to plant in the spring, we'll sift it again, then plant beans for two or three years to fertilize the land. We'll then do a thorough cleaning when it's time to cultivate the crops."

Cao Cao suddenly realized.

This is true.

"Understood," Cao Cao nodded. "That's certainly better."

Uncle Zhao grinned and said, "You scholars are all like that, always striving to do things perfectly. But we farmers, well, as long as we're doing okay, that's enough... we wear whatever size clothes fit our bodies!"

Cao Cao was momentarily dazed.

Although Uncle Zhao's words were crude, his reasoning was correct.

Cao Cao used to be ambitious, wanting to control the entire world.

In those years, he not only risked his life, but also dragged the Cao and Xiahou clans, as well as others who followed him, onto his chariot, intending to devour the world. But what was the result?

Cao Cao lowered his head, gave a self-deprecating laugh, and said, "Brother, you're right..."

In the afternoon, Cao Cao changed his approach.

Instead of picking and choosing one grain at a time, they roughly sifted through the stones like Uncle Zhao, only clearing the large ones.

The efficiency was indeed much faster; more than an acre of land was cleared in half a day.

Of course, even with such rough digging and picking, many small stones would still remain in the ground, like a pockmarked face, which still made Cao Cao feel somewhat disgusted.

But Cao Cao had already learned to force himself not to look at it...

No one is perfect, and no land is perfect either.

When we finished work and returned to the village, the sun was setting perfectly.

The golden-red light slanted across the freshly cleared fields, the newly turned soil glistening with moisture, and the piles of pebbles along the field ridges resembled a miniature Great Wall.

Cao Cao stood on the slope looking back, somewhat dazed...

A sense of accomplishment seemed to fill my heart.

What surprised Cao Cao even more was that this sense of accomplishment was no less than when he conquered Ye City and danced on someone's grave back then...

This stirred up a storm of emotions within him.

They are clearly different, and cannot even be compared...

At that time, he stood on the city wall, looking out over the vast land and the territory of the Han Dynasty.

Standing on this barren slope now, all I see are a few acres of thin fields, overgrown with weeds and ridges.

But strangely enough, the latter made him feel more at ease.

On his way back to the side courtyard, he met Madam Ding.

She seemed to have just come from the weaving workshop, carrying several bolts of newly woven cloth in her arms.

The cloth was a very ordinary indigo blue, which seemed to reflect the twilight and become as calm as water.

Madam Ding paused, her gaze falling on him.

It swept across his muddy shoes, landed on his hands wrapped in strips of cloth, and then gently slid away.

It's like a dragonfly skimming the water.

Without saying hello or speaking, she carried the cloth and headed towards the main courtyard.

The two maids following behind Lady Ding nodded slightly to Cao Cao and hurriedly followed Lady Ding's figure.

Indigo blends into the twilight, leaving only the bleak autumn wind.

Cao Cao watched the figure disappear into the distance, sighed, and looked down at his hands.

He doesn't know why, but his hand is in a lot of pain right now.

I clenched my fist; my joints were stiff, and every movement was painful.

The cloth strips were dirty, with fresh bloodstains seeping out, mixed with the brown and black of the soil, like bloodstains that had been there for years.

Yes……

Back then, he returned from the front lines covered in blood, and went to see her without even removing his armor.

She emerged from the weaving room carrying the same bolts of cloth, paused for a moment upon seeing him, then bowed and said, "General, you have returned in triumph."

What did he say then?
forgotten.

What else did she say?
I've forgotten about it too.

I vaguely remember that her smile at the time seemed to contain both helplessness and estrangement.

At that time, he was preoccupied with the overall situation of the world and could not see it.

Even if I saw it, I wouldn't care.

He returned to his room, washed himself thoroughly, and changed into clean clothes.

The wound was soaked in water, and the stinging pain was mixed with an itch, which meant that new flesh was growing.

He carefully washed away every speck of dirt, applied a skin-regenerating powder, and changed into clean cloths.

As evening approached, Uncle Fu brought food again, along with freshly washed clothes, and took away the dirty clothes he had been working in.

Uncle Fu said nothing, and Cao Cao asked nothing.

It was still rice porridge, cooked until very soft, with a sweet and fragrant aroma. And there was an extra egg.

The beans served as a side dish were also stewed until very soft, unlike before when they would struggle between your teeth. They were now soft and crumbly, and slid right into your stomach.

Cao Cao peeled another egg. The egg white was tender and smooth, and the yolk was soft and fluffy. He ate it with the pancake and found it to be the most delicious thing in the world.

It was completely dark outside the window.

After washing up, Cao Cao sat inside the room.

He couldn't help but think of her.

He betrayed her.

He couldn't say whether it was intentional or not, but he had definitely gone too far without realizing it...

So far away that when he looked back, he could no longer see the road he had come from, nor could he see the person still waiting for him on the road.

……

……

The next day, Cao Cao got up even earlier.

He didn't finish his meal in the kitchen before setting off; instead, he took two flatbreads, shouldered his tools, and headed to the back mountain.

Upon arriving at the field, he ate his gradually cooling flatbread while surveying the land before him in the morning light.

terrain.

Soil.

Water, soil, yin and yang.

This land is sunny and gets good sunlight, but it has been hit by a landslide before, so the side facing the mountain is still soft, and it's hard to say when it might landslide again...

Should we take some of the grass roots we dug up to the hillside?

Looking down at the dry stream below the slope, it would surely be filled with mountain water during the rainy season, but the stream is swift and mostly sand and gravel, so it cannot hold water at all.

If a stone dam were built on the hillside or at the foot of the slope, wouldn't it both conserve water and soil, and also store water for irrigation?

Cao Cao stuffed the remaining cakes into his mouth, then squatted down, picked up a sharp-edged stone, and began to draw on the ground.

The earthen slope wasn't large, and the stream was very small, but Cao Cao painted it very carefully and with great concentration.

Where to build dams, where to dig canals, where to cultivate fields, where to leave roads.

When Uncle Zhao arrived, Cao Cao was only halfway through painting.

Uncle Zhao leaned closer to look, squinting as he tried to decipher it. "Mr. Cao... what you've drawn is... an irrigation ditch?"

Cao Cao then noticed Uncle Zhao approaching. His heart skipped a beat, and he seemed to instinctively reach for the hoe beside him, but he let go of it as he grasped the handle. "...Ah, yes, that's right. This slope...can't retain water. If we can build a dam at the foot of the slope to store water, and then dig a canal for irrigation, it might be able to be converted into irrigated land..."

Uncle Zhao didn't notice Cao Cao's hand movements; he was only staring at the diagram Cao Cao was drawing on the ground. After a long silence, he nodded, then quickly shook his head. "A good idea... but..."

Uncle Zhao sighed, "But building this dam requires not only a lot of stone and manpower, but also people knowledgeable in geography to determine the location... Once the location is determined, we need to hire craftsmen to dig pits and prepare the soil, and... sigh, there's just too much to do... And even if we build it, the weather is unpredictable; if a heavy rain comes, it could all be ruined... It's not worth it, not worth it at all."

Cao Cao laughed.

He recalled that this was often the case in the central command tent in the past.

At that time, the discussion wasn't about whether or not to repair the canal, but rather about whether to conquer Xuzhou, whether or not to confront Yuan Shao, and whether or not to launch an offensive...

Back then, we were calculating bit by bit: how many troops, how much food, how much chance of victory...

"It won't take many people... I'll just give it a try first..." Cao Cao said, standing up with his hands on his knees. He pointed to the depression at the foot of the slope and said, "Look, it's in that depression... First, use the large stones we've collected to build a small dam... It won't take much work, and we don't need to dig pits to cultivate the clay. Just use this mud to plaster it on, and moss will definitely grow in the spring, so it won't leak... Once the small dam is finished, we can expand it if we want..."

Upon hearing this, Uncle Zhao looked at Cao Cao with a complex expression. "Mr. Cao, you know all this? You... are you really just a clerk?"

Cao Cao was taken aback, then chuckled and said, "Otherwise what? I still want to be the prime minister!"

Uncle Zhao chuckled, "You rascal, why don't you just say you want to be emperor? Hahaha, fine, if you want to try, then try! But I still have to advise Mr. Cao, don't blame me for being nosy, but farming is something you can't rush! Take it one step at a time. If you can harvest a season's worth of beans, you can support a season's worth of people!"

Upon hearing this, Cao Cao slowly nodded.

In the following days, Cao Cao continued to either clear land or collect stones.

However, when he was picking up stones, he would deliberately pick out some large, well-shaped stones and pile them up next to the depression at the foot of the slope.

Uncle Zhao would sometimes come back to lend a hand when he saw this, but most of the time Cao Cao did the work.

Several days have passed, and the fields have begun to take shape, while the small dam at the foot of the hillside is also beginning to take shape.

During his midday rest, Cao Cao leaned against a tree, looking at the fields, streams, and the stones of the small dam below the slope.

The sun shone brightly, the sky was a clear blue, the clouds were fluffy, and even the stones of the small dam seemed to have a refined and elegant appearance. Each stone seemed to contain a story from the beginning of time, displaying its own charm to Cao Cao.

Cao Cao watched, a smile appearing on his face at some point.

He closed his eyes, letting the sunlight fall on his face.

Warmth seeped through my eyelids, and all I could see was a warm red.

The wind lifted his gray hair and blew across his thinning beard.

In his youth, he always thought he was a chosen one, capable of changing the world and moving mountains and filling seas with a wave of his hand or a stomp of his foot.

Now he understands that the world is too far, the mountains and seas too vast, but this piece of land and this bend of water before him are the simple things, the more real things...

Cao Cao finally completed this small dam when he finished work that evening.

Although the stones were of varying sizes and not stacked very neatly, at least they stood up.

Cao Cao looked left and right, feeling slightly dissatisfied.

But Uncle Zhao praised it highly, saying, "Very good, very good. A small dam is enough."

On the way back to the manor, Cao Cao walked very slowly.

On the one hand, he was tired, and on the other hand, Cao Cao discovered that the rural scenery had a unique beauty.

The farmers were finishing their work and heading home, in twos and threes, carrying their tools and chatting idly.

Smoke rose from the chimneys, turning a pale purple hue in the sunset.

The dog ran back and forth, its tail wagging in circles.

And of course, there's her too...

As Cao Cao passed by the main courtyard, he saw Lady Ding standing in front of the hall, talking to a steward.

Her figure appeared slender in the twilight, but she still stood very straight.

The manager was bowing and scraping, seemingly saying something unintelligible.

She gazed at the horizon, seemingly listening, yet also seemingly not listening.

Cao Cao stopped and watched from a distance, without approaching.

He saw the steward seem to say something again, bowing and nodding, but in the end she just shook her head, as if rejecting something...

The steward finally lowered his head, remained silent, and bowed as he withdrew.

She stood alone in front of the hall for a while, looking up at the sky.

Cao Cao also turned his head to look, and saw that there was only one last wisp of golden red left in the west.

Then I looked back at her again...

The wind ruffled her hair, and she raised her hand to smooth it down, a natural and familiar gesture.

Many years ago, she might have stood under the eaves waiting for him just like this.

Wait for him, leave a light on for him.

There was no urging, no scolding, no complaining; they simply stood quietly, waiting, watching the sun rise, watching the stars fill the sky, watching the moon wax and wane, watching the trees in the courtyard go from lush and swaying to bare and withered.

At the time, he took it for granted.

Only now do I realize that every moment of waiting is a drain on my energy.

It drains patience, drains enthusiasm, and wastes the time that could have been spent together over the years.

He turned around, not wanting to disturb her, and quietly returned to the side courtyard through the side gate.

There was still hot porridge on the table, but no chicken; instead, there were a few slices of cured meat.

The cured meat is sliced ​​thinly, steamed until translucent, and glistening with oil.

He smiled, washed his hands and face, and then sat down to eat slowly.

The meat was savory and fragrant, and the porridge was warm and soft. As you ate it, the warmth spread from your stomach to your limbs and bones.

After finishing the medicine, he reapplied it as usual.

The wound is getting better; the scab is falling off, revealing tender new flesh.

Then he sat under the lamp, picked up a charcoal stick, and sketched out the next steps for repairing the dam.

The angle of the piled stones, the location of the drainage outlet, and the direction of the diversion channel.

He drew very meticulously, scrutinizing every detail repeatedly.

He was drawing when he suddenly stopped.

He turned his head and saw the flickering lamplight casting his shadow on the wall.

The shadow flickered, as if something was hidden within it, lurking in the darkness, twisting and turning wildly, mocking, laughing, and cursing...

The defeated...

waste……

Over the years, he has become accustomed to planning, scheming, and strategizing.

For the world, for hegemony, for posthumous fame.

But all those plans ultimately came to naught.

He won, he lost.

He unified the Central Plains, but was defeated in Guanzhong.

The Bronze Sparrow Terrace was magnificent and resplendent, but he had never lived there for more than a few days. The place he had spent the most time in over the years was actually the Flying Bear Pavilion, where he was a prisoner.

Are you unwilling to accept this?
Do you regret it?
perhaps.

But these days, the planning for these few acres of barren land and a small dam has brought him true peace of mind.

There was no scheming or plotting; they were simply thinking about how to get a few more bushels of beans from this land.

Eating too many of these beans makes those aristocratic sons like to fart.

Cao Cao shook his head, blew out the lamp, and lay down.

The distorted shadow vanished into the darkness.

The night was quiet, with the wind whistling outside the window.

He lay there with his eyes open, imagining the future of that barren field in the darkness...

In spring, bean sprouts break through the soil, forming a lush green expanse.

In summer, the bean pods are plump and sway gently in the wind.

In autumn, the bean plants wither and turn yellow, and the beans rustle in their pods.

Then it is harvested, threshed, ground into flour, made into cakes, and cooked into porridge.

It enters the human body, transforms into strength, into sweat, and into another year of labor as winter turns to spring.

This cycle continues endlessly.

This cycle is small and insignificant, yet it is the foundation of the world.

His grand conquests and fleeting ambitions are closer to the essence of life than his spectacular campaigns and short-lived grand schemes.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

There were no battles or court intrigues in my dream.

There was only a patch of lush green soybean field, undulating in the sunlight.