Reborn Liu Bei: I'll lead this Three Kingdoms to victory!

The seventh day of the first month of the seventh year of Jian'an (200 AD), the day of Renri (human day).

On the official road outside Xiangping City, the accumulated snow had been trampled into a solid ice shell, and the ruts made a crisp crunching sound when they rolled over it. From Chenshi (7-9 AM) to Wushi (11 AM-1 PM), seventeen groups of refugees had arrived from the south, each group consisting of anywhere from thirty to fifty people to over a hundred.

I stood on the city wall, watching the dark mass of people slowly crawling through the snow.

The old man used a tree branch as a cane, resting every few steps. The woman wrapped the young child in her arms, tucking the blanket tightly into her frozen hands. The strong, muscular man walked on the outermost edge, warily watching the snow-covered road they had come from—the direction of Jizhou, the place they had escaped from.

"My lord, this is this morning's register." Tian Yu handed over a damp book, the ink still wet. "Three hundred and seventy-one households, one thousand four hundred and twenty-three people."

I took it, but didn't turn it over.

"How much more than yesterday?"

"Eighty-seven more households." Tian Yu's voice was steady, but his eyes were bloodshot. "The news from Ji Province is that Cao Cao's tax increase order has been posted in every county and village. Those who resist the tax will be arrested on the spot; those who flee will be pursued for three generations."

"Third generation?"

"If the father escapes, his son will be arrested; if the son escapes, his grandson will be arrested." Tian Yu paused. "According to the people who escaped, there was a family in Julu County where the grandfather, who was seventy years old, was locked in front of the county government office and displayed to the public for three days."

I didn't speak.

Another group of refugees arrived at the foot of the city wall.

Leading the way was a man in his fifties, missing an arm, his empty sleeve fluttering wildly in the wind. He walked very slowly, carrying a seven or eight-year-old boy on his back—the child's face was flushed red with fever, and he was already unconscious.

"Medical officer! Where is the medical officer?" the man shouted hoarsely, staggering as he tried to run forward, but slipped and fell in the snow.

The boy rolled off his back.

I rushed down the city wall in three strides.

When they arrived, Zhao Hu had already picked up the child. The child was as light as a feather, pale, and had cracked, bleeding lips.

"Where are the medical students?!" I turned around and shouted sharply.

"They're on their way—" Before the guard could finish speaking, a fast horse had already galloped in from the city gate.

Fu Shou nearly fell when she jumped off the horse. Clutching the medicine box that was almost half her height, her face was red from the cold, but she didn't care about catching her breath and rushed to the child's side.

He flipped open the eyelids, took the pulse, and examined the forehead—a series of movements performed with fluid grace.

"It's a case of wind-cold entering the body, with a high fever lasting more than three days." She said, opening her medicine box. "I need to administer medicine, perform acupuncture, and apply moxibustion immediately. It won't work here; the wind is too strong. I need to move it to the greenhouse."

Several guards immediately stepped forward.

The one-armed man knelt in the snow, staring blankly at Fu Shou, wanting to say something, but his throat felt like it was blocked by a stone.

Fu Shou picked up the medicine box and glanced back at him.

"Don't worry." The eight-year-old girl's voice was soft but steady. "Mr. Hua taught me that this condition can be cured."

She turned and ran away.

The man lay prone on the snow, his forehead pressed against the cold bricks, his shoulders trembling violently.

I walked over and squatted down.

"What's your name?"

"This humble citizen... Zhao Dazhuang." His voice was muffled in his throat, "a resident of Julu County."

"That arm was lost during the campaign against Dong Zhuo."

He looked up abruptly, his cloudy eyes filled with astonishment.

"My lord...how...how did you know?"

I did not answer.

Gongsun Zan's White Horse Cavalry had recruited soldiers at Julu during the campaign against Dong Zhuo. That was fourteen years ago.

"You recognize this?" I took an old brass plaque from my waist and handed it to him.

The bronze plaque is engraved with a galloping horse, and its edges have been worn smooth and shiny.

Zhao Dazhuang stared at the bronze plaque for a long time.

Then, as if his bones had been removed, he collapsed to the ground and let out a cry that had been suppressed for fourteen years.

"White Horse... White Horse Cavalry... Squad Leader Zhao Dazhuang... greets the General..."

His forehead repeatedly struck the snow.

"This humble general...this humble general has disgraced the White Horse Cavalry..."

On the city tower, the wind swirls up the remaining clouds.

I helped him up.

"You didn't embarrass me." I placed the bronze medal in his palm. "Recite the rules of the White Horse Cavalry."

He knelt in the snow, choking back tears, speaking slowly and deliberately:

"Comrades are like hands and feet. If wounded, we will heal together; if dead, we will be buried together. Those who abandon their comrades shall be executed."

"Have you given up?"

"This humble general didn't..." He looked down at his empty sleeve. "This humble general was slashed during the breakout at Suanzao. The squad leader ordered me to retreat first, but I refused... Later, I fainted and woke up to find myself recuperating at a civilian's house... After that, the White Horse Cavalry was gone..."

He lay on the ground, his shoulders trembling violently.

"This humble general... has no face to go back..."

I remained silent for a long time.

The wind blew snowflakes into my collar, chilling me to the bone.

"The White Horse Cavalry is still around," I said.

He raised his head.

"General Zhao Yun is leading the troops, stationed in Youzhou." I looked at him. "You've carried this badge with you for fourteen years, not waiting to cry today."

Zhao Dazhuang stared blankly at the bronze plaque in his palm.

"Is the squad leader... still alive?" he asked.

"Alive." I paused. "His name is Chen Gan, and he's now a leader in the White Horse Cavalry."

The man lowered his head, pressed the bronze plaque to his chest, and remained silent for a long time.

---

Shen Shi (3-5 PM), Medical School.

Hua Tuo personally administered acupuncture, and the child's high fever subsided by 30%. Fu Shou stayed by the bedside, changing the cold cloth on the child's forehead every fifteen minutes, her movements light and steady, as if she had done it a thousand times.

Zhao Dazhuang stood outside the door, not daring to go in.

"Who else is in your family?" I asked him.

"My wife died of illness two years ago. This child, Tiger Head, is all that's left." He paused. "Before she died, she told me to raise him and not let him join the army... I didn't listen to her. Tiger Head himself said that when he grows up, he wants to fight bad guys."

He lowered his head and wiped his eyes with his only remaining hand.

"There are never enough bad guys to fight..."

I didn't respond.

Zheng Xuan walked from the other end of the corridor, followed by a dozen or so young students dressed in blue robes. He was seventy-four years old, leaning on a cane, walking slowly, but refusing to let anyone help him with any step.

"Your Excellency," he bowed, "this old minister will depart tomorrow."

"Lord Zheng, let's wait a few more days, until the snow subsides..."

"The snow won't stop," the old man interrupted me. "The refugees won't stop. Neither will the old ministers."

He turned to look at the students in blue robes.

"These children have studied at the academy for three years. Three years, Your Excellency—three years is enough for me to teach them the entire Spring and Autumn Annals, enough for them to memorize three thousand sage teachings. But have they ever seen real refugees? Have they ever touched frostbitten hands? Have they ever fed medicine to a dying child?"

He didn't wait for my reply.

"Good ministers cannot be raised in a study." He turned around, bowed deeply, and said, "My lord, let this old minister take them to see the world."

I helped him up.

At seventy-four years old, he bowed deeply, yet his back remained perfectly straight.

"Lord Zheng," I said softly, "what do you desire?"

He raised his head, and a clear light shone in his cloudy eyes.

"This old minister demands a promise."

"Please speak."

"If there is ever a peaceful day in the future," he said, emphasizing each word, "do not let these children write poems about refugees again."

I looked at him.

The wind and snow filled the long corridor, blowing his sparse white hair.

"I promise you."

---

At the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), at the Governor's Office.

Xun You's "Han Dian: Tian Zhi Juan" was spread out on the table, and Tian Yu had already read it for the third time.

"My lord, this clause, 'the government will provide oxen and seeds, to be repaid in five years,'—" he pointed to a line with his finger, "is about 3,000 oxen short in Liaodong this year. If the government were to cover all of them, it would cost 600,000 taels of silver."

"so?"

"I suggest we divide it into two categories," Tian Yu said after a moment's thought. "Those with labor power but no savings can borrow oxen to be repaid in three years; those with savings but lacking labor power can rent them together, with the government acting as guarantor."

Xun You picked up his pen to take notes without even looking up.

How should the rental be priced?

"The commission is charged per mu, one dou per mu." Tian Yu had clearly thought about it. "Tenants who rent cattle have to pay three dou per mu to the landlord. The government only takes one dou, which is cheaper than the landlord's."

"What if the big players resort to price wars?"

"Then let them lower it." Tian Yu rarely showed a smile. "One dou per mu means the government doesn't make any money. If they lower it to eight sheng, they'll subsidize the farmers to help them grow the land—I couldn't ask for more."

Xun You paused, his pen poised.

He looked up at Tian Yu, his eyes holding a faint, almost imperceptible hint of approval.

"Lord Tian's method is feasible."

Tian Yu cupped his hands in thanks: "I owe much of my inspiration to Mr. Gongda's 'Field System'."

Xun You did not speak, but continued to take notes with his head down.

But I noticed that his earlobes were slightly red.

Four years of writing, 1,400 days and nights.

This is the first time his book has been "used" by someone.

---

At the hour of Hai (9-11 PM), Xu Shu arrived.

"My lord, there's been some activity from Cao Cao's side." He lowered his voice. "According to reports from our sources in Xuchang, after the court assembly on the fifteenth of the first month, Cao Cao summoned Xiahou Dun, Cao Ren, and Xun Yu privately—"

He paused.

Xun Yu claimed illness and did not go.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Pretend to be sick?"

"Yes." Xu Shu's voice was very soft. "According to our inside sources, Cao Cao cursed Liu Bei during the banquet for 'faking illness to deceive people and seizing three counties in Hebei,' and vowed that he would definitely launch a southern expedition this year to avenge the humiliation of Guandu."

"Xun Yu didn't go. What was his reaction?"

"Cao Cao smashed his wine cup on the spot," Xu Shu said, "but he didn't send anyone to invite him back, nor did he question him."

I remained silent for a moment.

"Wenruo is making a statement," I said. "He's telling Cao Cao that he doesn't agree with the strategy of conquering the south."

Would Cao Cao listen?

"No," I shook my head. "He won't listen to anyone right now. The Xu Du massacre has made him bloodthirsty, the tax increase in Ji Province has driven the people to rebellion, and I've taken over the three counties of Hebei—he needs a victory to prove to the world that he's still the same Cao Cao."

"Then we..."

"Wait." I walked to the map. "Wait for him to launch his southern campaign. Wait for him to get bogged down in the quagmire of Jiangdong. Wait for his rear to be left undefended."

Xu Shu's eyes lit up: "Does Your Excellency mean..."

"He didn't have a five-year agreement, but I did," I said calmly. "He broke the agreement and went south, so I had no choice but to cross the river to the north—this is a case I have the right to bring before the Emperor."

Xu Shu understood and did not ask any further questions.

As he retreated to the doorway, he suddenly turned back.

"My lord, regarding Xun Yu...should we send someone to make contact?"

I remained silent for a long time.

"Wait a little longer," I said. "He's not at his wit's end yet."

---

At midnight, refugees gathered at the camp.

I changed into casual clothes and, with only Zhao Hu by my side, walked into the makeshift wooden shed.

This is where Zheng Xuan will lead his team to camp tomorrow. There are three hundred wooden sheds, each capable of housing one family. Each shed has a kang (heated brick bed), with newly quilted blankets, and in the corner are piles of grain sacks enough to last at least ten days.

I walked into one of the rooms at random.

An old woman was sitting on the kang (a heated brick bed), sewing shoe soles by the light of an oil lamp. She looked up and saw me, but didn't recognize me, assuming I was an official, and quickly got up.

"Sit, sit," I gestured for her not to be so polite. "Where are you from, sir?"

"Qinghe County." The old woman's accent was heavy. "The harvest was bad before the New Year, and the government is going to increase taxes... My son said, let's go, there are people in the north who will take us in..."

"Where's your son?"

"Go collect tomorrow's rations." She lowered her head and continued sewing shoe soles. "The magistrate has treated us so well, we can't just eat and stay for free... Once these shoe soles are finished, we'll send them to the military camp so the soldiers can wear them warmly..."

I didn't speak.

The calluses on her hands were as thick as tree bark, yet the stitches were fine and even.

A pair of shoe soles requires three thousand stitches.

Three thousand needles, in exchange for a meal.

I got up and went to the next room.

The family of five squeezed onto one kang (a heated brick bed), the youngest child still in swaddling clothes. The man was in his early thirties, strong and muscular, but his eyes were somewhat dull.

"What do you do?" I asked.

"A tenant farmer," he replied. "I rent land from the Li family, paying rent up to 70% of the harvest. Last year there was a drought, and we couldn't pay, so the Li family kicked my mother out..."

"Where is Mother?"

He didn't speak, but looked down at the mat on the kang (heated brick bed).

The woman next to him gently tugged at his sleeve.

I turned and left.

Another one.

A young scholar, in his early twenties, was flipping through a worn-out copy of the Analects under an oil lamp.

"A scholar?" I asked.

He looked up, somewhat hesitantly: "I am a member of the Cui clan of Qinghe, from a collateral branch, and cannot be considered a scholar..."

"The Cui family?" I thought of Cui Yan. "Who is Cui Ji Gui to you?"

"Uncle," he said in a low voice, "after the Xu Du massacre, you were imprisoned, and the Cui family's property was confiscated... When I escaped, I took nothing with me except this book..."

He held the Analects to his chest, as if he were holding a piece of charcoal for warmth.

"Liaodong Academy is recruiting," I said. "Those who master one classic text will be granted 100 mu of land and receive a monthly salary of ten shi. Go and take the exam."

He froze.

"May I...?"

"Cui Jigui's clansmen can't be bad." I turned around. "Go take the exam. If you pass, write a letter to your uncle."

I heard soft sobbing behind me.

I didn't turn around.

---

It's past midnight.

I walked out of the refugee camp.

Zhao Hu followed behind, remaining silent the entire way.

"What do you want to say?" I asked.

"My lord..." He hesitated for a long time, "I'm not good with words, I just... I just feel that you've been running around all day and haven't even had a hot meal."

I stopped in my tracks.

"Zhao Hu".

"exist."

"How many years have you been with me?"

"Six years." He scratched his head. "I've been with you since Youzhou."

"Six years." I looked at him. "Do you know what I just saw in those thirty-seven sheds?"

He shook his head.

"I saw thirty-seven ways of living," I said. "There was an old woman waiting for her son to collect his grain rations, a man who dared not cry when his mother died, and a scholar who fled with the Analects of Confucius in his arms... They were all people crushed by this world."

I didn't say anything more.

The wind and snow were blowing in our faces.

The city tower in the distance was brightly lit.

That was Xun You's side hall—he was still revising the "Field System Volume".

That was Zheng Xuan's study—the old gentleman was packing his belongings for tomorrow.

That was the medical school—Fu Shou was watching over the child named Hu Tou, waiting for his fever to subside.

That was the headquarters of the night watchmen—Xu Shu was poring over piles of secret reports under the lamp, trying to piece together Cao Cao's strategy from the fragmented information.

That was the Military Academy—Gao Shun had just finished his training for the day and was working on a sand table to rehearse the bandit suppression tactics for the spring.

That was a water fortress—Zhou Cang's boats were still lit up, and the soldiers were still practicing knot tying, sail handling, and wind direction identification.

This world has crushed many people.

But there are always people who, after being trampled, are still willing to straighten their backs and move forward.

I took a deep breath of the cool air.

"Return to the residence."

---

The fourth watch.

Xun You was still under the lamp.

When I pushed the door open, he was writing something. Hearing the noise, he didn't even look up: "Your Excellency, this 'land restriction order'—I'd like to change the limit to thirty years. I wonder if that's appropriate..."

"Gongda".

He raised his head.

"Tomorrow," I said, "you will come with me to see Zheng Xuan."

He was stunned.

"Zheng Gong is going to set up a refugee registration office on the border. Go and see him off." I paused for a moment, "And on the way, explain your 'Land System Scroll' to him."

"My lord... my writing is crude; Duke Zheng is a great Confucian scholar of our time..."

"Zheng Gong was a great Confucian scholar of his time, so he understood better than you—" I looked at him, "Saving one person is benevolence, saving ten thousand is governance. Your book is a book that can save ten thousand people."

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

a long time.

He put down his pen, solemnly straightened his clothes, stood up, and bowed deeply to me.

"Your subject obeys."

---

At dawn.

The sky was beginning to lighten with the first light of dawn.

I stood in front of the Governor's Mansion to see Zhuge Liang off on his journey.

Today he was wearing the official robes of the Prefect of Qingzhou, black, which were a bit larger than his fourteen-year-old frame, and the cuffs had to be rolled up. Tian Yu personally led his horse, Zheng Xuan stood to the side leaning on his cane, Xun You held the "Field System Scroll" that he hadn't finished reading yet, and Sima Yi stood at the back of the crowd, his face calm, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Zhang Fei squeezed through the crowd and shoved a jar of wine into Zhuge Liang's hand.

"Young sir, this jar of 'Liaodong Shao' is homemade, aged for three years! It's cold on the road, have a couple of sips to warm yourself up!"

Guan Yu coughed lightly from the side: "Yide, Kongming is not good at drinking."

"Then warm your hands!" Zhang Fei glared. "Young sir, if you encounter any difficulties on the road, write back, and I, Old Zhang, will go and chop someone up!"

Zhuge Liang, holding the jar of wine, respectfully bowed to Zhang Fei.

Then he turned around and walked up to me.

"teacher."

The fourteen-year-old boy still had a touch of childishness in his eyes, but his back was already ramrod straight.

"I will certainly live up to your expectations."

I looked at him.

When he was seven years old, he entered the governor's mansion for the first time and asked, "Teacher, where do we fight to stop the people from going hungry?"

When he was eight years old, he followed me to survey the fields. We walked along the field ridges all day long, and he didn't complain even when his feet were blistered.

When he was ten years old, he crossed the sea with the army and wrote "On the Advantages and Disadvantages of Crossing the Sea to Fight a Long March," which made Gao Shun silent for three days.

At the age of twelve, he presided over the Recruitment Hall, creating files and registers for three hundred scholars, categorizing them meticulously without any errors or omissions.

At the age of fourteen, he left the mountain.

I patted him on the shoulder.

"Kongming, the powerful clans in Qingzhou are ten times more numerous than those in Liaodong."

He nodded.

"The resistance to commercial tax laws is a hundred times greater than in Xiangping."

He nodded again.

"But remember—" I leaned down to look him in the eye, "You are not alone. Behind you are the three thousand students of Liaodong Academy, capable ministers like Tian Yu, wise men like Xun You, and even someone like me..."

I didn't continue.

He took over the conversation.

"It's a teacher."

He stepped back three paces, straightened his clothes, and knelt down.

His forehead touched the ground.

The fourteen-year-old boy knelt before his teacher, whom he had followed for seven years, for the first time as a "subject".

"Your subject Zhuge Liang bids farewell to your lord."

---

The city gate slowly opened.

The horse's hooves trod through the snow, heading north.

The figure in the black official robe gradually disappeared into the wind and snow.

Zhang Fei wiped his eyes and muttered curses, saying that snow had gotten into his eyes.

Guan Yu gazed silently into the distance, a complex and unfathomable light in his phoenix eyes.

Zheng Xuan leaned on his cane, his white hair flying wildly in the wind.

Xun You held the book, not turning the page for a long time.

Sima Yi remained standing at the back of the crowd, his expression calm.

But his fingers remained pressed on the bronze talisman that he never parted from at his waist.

That's a talisman kept by the night guards.

That was the first night in eighteen years that he voluntarily asked to study.

The lord said, "You are Sima Yi. I will break your scheme, settle your accounts, and follow your path."

He gripped the bronze talisman tightly.

The wind and snow were heavy.

But the journey for these young people is still long.