Weird Three Kingdoms

Chapter 3957 Cao Cao's Story:
Cao Cao fell ill.

That morning, he got up as usual, feeling dizzy and weak in his limbs.

At first, Lao Cao thought it was just because he was tired from working for days and didn't pay much attention. He continued to carry his tools to the back mountain.

Halfway there, he suddenly felt dizzy and his vision went black. He grabbed onto an old tree by the roadside to avoid falling over.

The rough bark of the tree trunk pressed against his palms, supporting his body.

He closed his eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass.

He wasn't too panicked.

He had experienced this kind of dizziness, and the accompanying pain, quite often before.

Old Cao gritted his teeth and persevered.

The pain came without warning.

It's impossible to figure out.

It felt like someone was pricking my temples with needles.

It was as if something was hidden inside his head, pounding his skull with a hammer.

My eardrums were ringing, and the sky before my eyes was dark and spinning.

But the dizziness worsened, and then the world seemed to spin before his eyes.

He heard what sounded like someone exclaiming, but the sound was muffled and distant, as if separated by a thick layer of water.

He tried to force himself to say "I'm fine" as before, but no sound came out.

The heavens and earth were shaking, a gray-black, rippling mass, as if the entire world were submerged in water, or as if he alone had been thrown into the Yellow Springs, while everyone else stood on the shore…

This is an old problem.

This time, however, it seems particularly serious.

After he welcomed Liu Xie, his illness would frequently flare up.

So some people deliberately spread rumors that Cao Cao's illness was "divine punishment".

Old Cao neither believes nor accepts this claim!
For this, he killed quite a few people back then, but the more he killed, the more rampant the rumors became. Eventually, Cao Cao could only treat it as mere whispers and stopped paying attention to it...

Cao Cao consulted many doctors for this illness.

Most doctors were helpless, and a few said it was a "headache," a disease located in the skull where medication couldn't reach. In short, it was a veiled indication that it was a terminal illness, incurable, and that Old Cao should just enjoy his life...

Cao Cao was furious, but he didn't have much he could do about the doctors who were recommended by the Shandong gentry or who he had found himself.

After all, everyone has their own expertise; Cao Cao excelled in military affairs but was not skilled in medicine...

At that time, Cao Cao himself was also afraid of the disease, but he could not show it.

He is the commander of an army and the prime minister of a dynasty. If he shows weakness, what will happen to the world? Those enemies lurking in the shadows will immediately jump out, those states and counties that have just submitted will have rebellious intentions, and his sons are not enough to keep the situation in check.

He can't take that risk.

So he chose to endure it.

Over the years, he honed his skills in concealing his true intentions.

Whenever a headache struck, he would soak a cloth in cold water, apply it to his forehead, and after a short rest, he would get up and resume his work, sitting upright and handling documents and receiving his subordinates, with a normal expression.

Only Cao Cao's closest attendants could perceive his pain from his subtle movements...

Cao Cao even killed his own attendant because of this.

That loyal, yet foolish, servant.

Because that attendant not only saw Cao Cao's weakness, but also cared for and looked after that weakness...

He doesn't allow himself to show weakness in front of others.

A prime minister can be wrong or fail, but he must never be sick or old!

Because at that time he believed that in this world, old age and illness meant weakness, and weakness meant being swallowed up!

When Yuan Shao fell ill, the entire Ji Province was thrown into chaos!
When Liu Biao grew old, his 100,000 soldiers were immediately terrified!

He cannot repeat their mistakes.

So he endured it with sheer willpower.

He persevered through those years.

He thought he could hold on indefinitely.

While he was imprisoned in Chang'an, the doctors at the Hundred Medical Hall treated him and prescribed medicine. He did not have to do heavy physical labor or worry about military and state affairs, and his illness seemed to disappear.

Unexpectedly, the illness returned after I returned to Shandong!

Now, he lies curled up on the hard, old bed in the side courtyard, his pillowcase soaked with cold sweat, his jaw clenched so tightly it makes a clicking sound.

But the pain still came in waves, like a persistent visitor tapping on his skull intermittently.

It was a late autumn night outside the window. He didn't know when or how he had returned to the secluded courtyard.

But in this secluded courtyard, no one needed him to pretend to be strong.

He can shout, roll around, or pound on the walls to distract himself and ease his pain.

But he still didn't do it.

Cao Cao habitually curled up, his breathing rapid and suppressed, gritting his teeth, just like when he was young, using his willpower to fight against the pain.

He thought, this pain has followed him for twenty or thirty years. It has witnessed his peak. Will it also witness his end?
He was unconvinced.

He has never been convinced by anyone, whether it's his personality or his illness.

Dizziness began to set in.

The room in my field of vision began to distort and rotate, and the scenery in front of me became blurry again, with a watery halo around the edges.

This is an extremely disturbing experience.

It was as if the heavens and earth were shattering, and he was floating in the void, spinning and falling, but he couldn't grasp anything.

In the daze, fragments of the past scattered like broken beads.

He saw himself at twenty-four, recommended for the civil service examination, and appointed as the Northern Commandant of Luoyang, where he would read laws and regulations by candlelight in the back hall of the government office.

The candlelight flickered in the wind, and his young face was full of ambition.

He wanted to find a reasonable and well-founded way from the laws and regulations of the Han Dynasty to deal with those arrogant officials and sons of high-ranking families!
At that time, he believed that as long as the law was strictly enforced, the world would be well-governed.

He made five-colored sticks and hung them above the door. Anyone who violated the rules was beaten to death, regardless of whether they were powerful or wealthy.

For a time, the arrogant and domineering people in the capital became quiet and no one dared to offend them.

He believed this was the way to govern the world.

He was wrong.

He saw himself at the age of thirty, serving as the Chancellor of Jinan.

That winter, he braved the wind and snow to travel incognito.

His horse hooves pounded across the frozen river as he toured the counties, entered the countryside, and visited the people.

He saw that the people looked pale and were poorly clothed.

He saw that the county officials were corrupt and abused their power, oppressing the local people.

He saw that in the mansions with plaques bearing the words "filial piety and integrity" and "outstanding talent," there was constant revelry and feasting every night.

He submitted a memorial to the throne, dismissing 80% of the officials and banning licentious worship. For a time, politics and education flourished, and the prefecture was orderly.

He believed that by eliminating these parasites, the world could return to the right path.

But he later learned that most of the dismissed officials were transferred elsewhere through connections and continued to hold office without even an apology.

So, he was wrong again...

He saw himself giving away his family fortune, gathering righteous troops, and taking the lead in advocating against Dong Zhuo.

At the time of raising his army, he pointed to the great banner and addressed his clansmen who followed him, recruiting local militia, saying: "If this undertaking fails, the nation's calamity will be beyond redemption; if we succeed, the world will be fortunate indeed!"

At that time, he truly believed that as long as the warlords were of one mind, Dong Zhuo could be executed and the Han Dynasty could be restored.

But at the Sour Jujube Conference, watching the feudal lords who talked big and held lavish banquets every day, and the allies who schemed against each other for a single prefecture or county, he gradually understood...

These guys don't want to restore the Han Dynasty; they want to take advantage of the chaos to divide up territory and strengthen themselves.

Upon learning that Dong Zhuo had burned Luoyang and moved the capital to Chang'an, he angrily led his troops in pursuit, but...

He made a double mistake.

He envisioned himself at the age of forty, welcoming the emperor and establishing the capital in Xuchang.

On that day, the emperor's carriage entered Xuchang, and all the officials paid homage, with a majestic procession.

He stood at the head of all the officials, looking at the fifteen-year-old young emperor sitting on the throne, his eyes filled with both fear and anticipation.

At that moment, what welled up in his heart was not only the pleasure of having power in his hands, but also a heavy sense of responsibility.

He thought, "The Han Dynasty has declined to this point. If I don't step forward, who knows how many people in the world will claim to be emperor or king?"
He thought he could be the one to turn the tide.

He thought he could pick up the broken pieces of this land and piece it back together.

As a result, he realized from Dong Zhao's blood that he had been wrong again.

He saw himself at the age of fifty when he led his troops on a western expedition to Chang'an.

Generals gathered in droves, their banners blotting out the sky.

He immediately climbed a high hill, thinking that the three hundred li of Guanzhong would be within his grasp in no time.

He explained to Emperor Liu Xie and his officials, "Chang'an is currently without a ruler. I command a million soldiers and a thousand generals, and I will surely pacify Guanzhong."

That was the closest he ever came to unifying the world.

Then came the cannon fire from Tongguan, shattering his dream.

Those images flashed back rapidly in my dizziness, then shattered just as quickly.

Like shattered bronze mirrors, each piece reflects his appearance at different times.

Young, spirited, angry, old...

He suddenly wondered what he had gained and what he had lost in his life. All the things he thought he had gained seemed to have been lost in the end.

What he thought he could control, ultimately spiraled out of control.

He thought he could revive the Han Dynasty, but in the end, the Han Dynasty existed in name only.

He thought he could unify the world, but it wasn't him who did.

He thought he could leave a solid foundation for his descendants, but Ang'er died tragically, Pi'er couldn't defend Ye City, Zhang'er was defeated in Chenliu, and Zhi'er, though talented in literature, was not capable of great things...

He even thought he could at least control his will, fight against his body, and suppress all the pain, but now...

He was hunched over, his head throbbing with pain.

When the dizziness subsided, he remembered this room, the place where Ang'er used to study.

The bed he is lying on now is perhaps the one Ang'er slept on back then.

That boy who smiled and revealed his tiger teeth, that boy who wrote his name crookedly on bamboo slips, that boy who once personally helped him put on armor and lead his horse in the army tent, showing an admiring expression...

"Father, when I grow up, I want to be a general like you, leading troops into battle!"

Okay, I'll wait for you.

But in the end, he didn't get to see it.

Cao Cao suddenly felt his eyes burning.

It wasn't because of a headache, but because of that promise that was never fulfilled.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold back his tears.

The pain remains, like the tide, rising and receding, receding and rising again.

After an unknown amount of time, the pain gradually subsided, transforming from a piercing, sharp pain into a dull, aching ache, like a beach after the tide has receded, leaving behind a damp residue.

Cao Cao slowly stretched out his curled-up body and loosened his grip on the blankets.

He gasped for breath and suddenly realized that being free from illness was the greatest happiness in life.

The room was dark, but a few stars shone through the window paper, allowing him to vaguely make out the outlines of the furniture.

He slowly sat up, holding onto the edge of the bed, and it took him a long time to recover.

Then he reached for the kettle on the table, his hands trembling so badly that he almost dropped it.

He steadied himself and poured himself a bowl of cold water.

The water was cold, and as it slid down his throat, it caused his stomach to clench, but it also made him a little more awake.

You can only hold the water in your mouth and then swallow it slowly, little by little...

Ugh……

There was a time when even drinking water in large gulps became a luxury.

He sat in the darkness for a long time, holding his bowl. Suddenly, he smiled—a silent, self-deprecating smile.

When he was still the prime minister, he was always surrounded by people.

Physicians would frequently examine her pulse, attendants would serve her medicine, and concubines would inquire after her well-being.

He was very annoyed and drove them all away.

He said he was fine and not sick!

He persevered and handled important military and national affairs.

Every time, he would tell himself, "I can't fall, I absolutely can't fall!"
The world is not yet settled, and the great cause is not yet accomplished. If he falls, everything will collapse with him!
He is a flag, and the flag must not fall...

At that time, his illness was never just his own.

Now that the flag has fallen, the world is no longer his concern.

He was just an ordinary old man suffering from headaches in a dilapidated house in a remote courtyard.

No one needed him to force himself, no one waited for him to make a decision, and no one would anxiously come to help him when he was in so much pain that he couldn't hold the bowl.

His illness was finally just his own.

He suddenly felt that this was actually quite good.

The pain is still there, throbbing faintly deep within the skull.

But he was no longer afraid of it.

It comes, it hurts, it goes.

They might even take him away...

But he was no longer afraid.

Like many things he has experienced in his life...

It came, it hurt, it's gone.

He no longer needed to fight; he only needed to calmly accept it.

Because some things cannot be changed.

He finished drinking the bowl of cold water and slowly moved back to bed to lie down.

He is still alive, but the pain persists.

He is still alive despite his illness.

……

……

When Cao Cao woke up again, he found that there seemed to be another person beside him.

"woke up?"

A voice came from beside the bed.

Cao Cao turned his head and saw that it was Uncle Fu by the bedside. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and said, "Those lazy good-for-nothings didn't inform us in time... Madam was so worried..."

"Brother Fu."

A faint voice came from the doorway, interrupting Uncle Fu's next words.

Before anyone knew it, Madam Ding arrived.

The light from the outer room shone on Lady Ding's back, making it impossible for Cao Cao to see her expression clearly.

Madam Ding entered, gestured to her maid to place the medicine pot and bowl on the table, and then said to Uncle Fu, "You go and rest, I'll take care of it."

Uncle Fu quickly agreed and left, giving Madam Ding's maid a wink as he went out.

Madam Ding's maid also lowered her head and withdrew.

Only two people remained in the room.

Cao Cao lay there, looking at Lady Ding's profile.

Lady Ding reached out and touched the cloth on Cao Cao's forehead.

It was no longer cold, so she took it, soaked it in the basin of water next to her, wrung it out, folded it up again, and applied it to his forehead.

His movements were swift and efficient, and he didn't utter a single word, as if it were something he was used to doing.

"Ahem...uh..." Cao Cao felt he should say something first, "Thank you for your trouble, Madam..."

"The doctor came and said it was due to overwork and depression, plus a cold; you need to rest for a few days." Madam Ding paused, then continued, "Let Uncle Zhao lead the land reclamation work first; you... just rest for the next few days."

"Yes," he said.

"Eat the porridge first, then take your medicine." Madam Ding naturally picked up the bowl, scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew on it, and handed it to him.

Cao Cao was stunned.

Madam Ding frowned slightly. "Open your mouth. Otherwise, you can eat it yourself."

The spoon was brought to Cao Cao's lips, and he could only open his mouth.

The warm porridge slid down my throat, carrying the slight spiciness of ginger and the smoothness of rice oil.

As it went down, it first warmed my stomach, and then it seemed to warm my heart as well.

He ate the bowl of porridge, bite by bite.

After she finished eating, she put away the bowl of porridge. "Take your medicine in a quarter of an hour. Remember that."

After saying that, she got up and prepared to leave.

"Ah Wan!"

Cao Cao blurted it out.

She stopped, but didn't turn around.

Cao Cao watched her retreating figure...

"That year when Ang'er was seriously ill..." Cao Cao said, "I...I'm sorry...I'm sorry, Ang'er..."

She didn't speak, but her back trembled slightly.

Cao Cao continued, "I was at the front lines. Military reports from the front came in three times a day… At that time, I thought there was plenty of time… But… But… I'm sorry…"

There was a long silence in the room.

Madam Ding reached out and pushed open the door. "The future...is not so long..."

She went outside, and the light from outside gilded her silhouette with a golden edge, which then closed and disappeared.

Cao Cao lay on his back, watching the light and shadow moving on the roof beams.

My head still felt heavy, and my body felt completely drained, but the warmth of the porridge slowly spread through my stomach, like a stream thawing in spring.

Two or three days later, the pain subsided somewhat, but I was still weak.

Cao Cao wanted to go and see the fields behind the mountain, but Fu Shu stopped him, saying that the lady had instructed him not to overexert himself after recovering from a serious illness and to rest in bed.

He had no choice but to stay in the side courtyard, idly looking at the trees and the sky, as if he had returned to Feixiong Pavilion.

Fortunately, Madam Ding came again.

This time there was no porridge, no medicine, only a bamboo scroll and a pot of tea.

She put down the bamboo slips. "If you're bored, take a look. There aren't many good books in the village, just some old things."

He left immediately after speaking, without even sitting down this time.

Cao Cao took the bamboo slips; the rope binding them was already somewhat rotten, and it might break if he applied too much force.

He carefully unfolded it and recognized it as the "Autumn Floods" chapter of the Zhuangzi.

The handwriting was bold and the ink was deep and rich, indicating that it was copied by himself in his early years.

These are probably old items stored in the manor, which Mrs. Ding has preserved to this day.

He remembered that when he copied this, he had just received an imperial edict ordering him to return to command troops in the Western Garden.

He thought he was the North Sea, capable of answering the question, "What is the value of the Way?"

In hindsight, he was still the River God back then, still unable to grasp the question of "what is Heaven and what is Man"...

As he read, his voice gradually lowered until it fell silent.

Sunlight streamed through the window paper, casting warm dappled patterns on the bamboo slips.

He ran his fingers over the words he had written, as if he were seeing his past self.

In the evening, Madam Ding personally delivered dinner again.

This time it's chicken noodle soup, the broth is clear and mellow, with a few bright green scallions floating on top.

Cao Cao, holding his bowl, suddenly said to Lady Ding, "Back when I was investigating the autumn floods, I thought I had grasped the great principles and was capable of governing the world. Now I realize that I can't even manage a few acres of barren land."

Lady Ding turned around, looked Cao Cao carefully, and after a long while said, "Then go and do what you can."

Cao Cao asked, "What do you think I can accomplish now, my lady?"

"You used to think you could be prime minister, the ruler of the world." Madam Ding paused, "Although you didn't do it very well, you still accomplished something... Now that you've achieved those things, what's so difficult about cultivating a few acres of wasteland? You're still alive, you still have hands and feet, if you want to, you can always do it."

Madam Ding's words were...

Cao Cao was somewhat at a loss for words, and could only lower his head and mumble, "Alright... I'll try..."

Madam Ding didn't say anything more, but she stood there for a while.

She looked down at him and noticed that he didn't have much gray hair left, and in some places his scalp was showing.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end, she didn't and turned away.

A few days later, the doctor came to see her again and said that there was no major problem and she only needed to rest for a few more days.

He couldn't lie there any longer, so he put on a thick coat and walked out of the side courtyard.

The sun has been shining brightly these past few days, making it warm and cozy.

He slowly sat down on the stone stool by the well and looked at the sky.

Autumn is deep, and the sky is a clear, bright blue that is refreshing and invigorating.

Suddenly, the wind brought the sound of looms from a weaving workshop, one after another, like the rhythm of life.

Cao Cao closed his eyes and listened carefully to the sound of the wind.

When did he stop liking such simple and boring sounds and start chasing after those fancy and colorful tunes?
Was it after he left Qiao County to serve in Luoyang, or during the years of fighting on all sides?
When he was young, he felt that the sound was neither as stirring as war drums nor as melodious as traditional music, but now, listening to it, he feels at ease.

This sound is the way of Heaven, the way of humanity.

This sound signifies the everyday, that someone is living quietly on this land, weaving cloth and going about their life.

Suddenly, Cao Cao felt that he no longer hated Fei Qian so much.

Footsteps came from the corridor.

Cao Cao stood up.

"It seems to be healed indeed."

Madam Ding's voice remained calm and even.

"It's all done." Cao Cao bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your trouble, Madam."

She stood in the corridor, backlit, her face hidden in shadow. "The doctor said this illness has been accumulating for years; it can't be recovered in a day or two. From now on, you must work within your limits and not overexert yourself."

Madam Ding paused again, then said, "Uncle Zhao and his men have already finished clearing that plot of land behind the mountain."

Cao Cao didn't react for a moment. "Finished reading?"

"You've been sick for so many days, you can't just sit around waiting." Her tone was still indifferent. "You're not the only able-bodied person in the village."

He bowed his head. "Thank you, Madam."

"No need for formalities." Madam Ding turned to return to the weaving workshop, but after a few steps, she stopped. "Remember to take your medicine."

After saying that, Madam Ding left, her gray-blue skirt disappearing behind the pillars.

Cao Cao took a breath and looked up at the sky again.

The sun was still shining, warm and pleasant.

The wind blew by, tugging at his gray hair.

In the distance, the sound of looms in the weaving workshop still echoed, one after another, like the days themselves, unhurried and continuous.

Cao Cao suddenly smiled.

It wasn't the kind of loud laughter that's deliberately meant to attract attention, but a genuine, gentle laugh.

He stretched his muscles and bones.

His lower back was still a little sore, and his steps were still a bit unsteady, but he wanted to go to the back mountain to take a look.

Go and see that plot of land that has been turned over, waiting to be planted with hope.