Han Ji

Chapter 127 Family Banquet

Liu Bei took off his outer robe. "He was afraid I would really make a move, yet he also hoped I would. He was very conflicted."

Xun Cai brought in hot water and said, "Husband, if those rumors spread, it may be bad for you."

Liu Bei washed his face. "Those shrewd people, like Wang Chun, will keep things under control for me. They're just hoping I'm stable right now. If I fall, Su Gu will turn around and deal with them, and none of them will escape."

On the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, we worship the Kitchen God.

Su Gu hosted a banquet for powerful figures at the prefect's mansion, with delicacies piled high and singing and dancing never ceasing. All the prefectural officials were present, but they drank in a dull manner.

At the same time, a banquet was held for all the refugees in the western part of the city.

Thirty large pots were set up in the open space, stewing pork and radishes. Steaming millet rice was being cooked, and wooden buckets were lined up in a long row. Each boy received a piece of maltose, wrapped in oiled paper, which he held tightly in his hand, afraid it would melt.

Liu Bei sat at the same table with the common people, on a bench, eating meat from a bowl. Wang Wu squatted to the side, his eyes red-rimmed.

"Captain, this meat... smells delicious."

"Eat as much as you like," Liu Bei said, placing a fatty piece on his plate. "May you have this every year from now on."

Old river worker Zheng San, drunk on turbid liquor, staggered over and knelt down with a thud.

"Lord Liu..." he slurred, "This old man... has lived for fifty years, and spent thirty of them digging along the riverbank. Those officials of the past, when they came to the canal, would hold their noses, complaining of the stench, complaining that we were dirty... A reward? Not beating or scolding us was already a favor!"

He clutched Liu Bei's robe, tears streaming down his face: "This is the first time... the first time an official has sat and eaten with us, given us meat, and given the children candy... My lord, I don't need this old man's life anymore, I'll give it to you! I'll build canals for you, dig wells for you, I'll give it to you..."

Liu Bei helped him up and held his chapped hands.

"Old Zheng, I don't want your life." His voice wasn't loud, but everyone around could hear him. "I want you to live well, to see Hanzhong get better year by year. To see the children grow up, have fields to cultivate, houses to live in, to be free from bandits, and to not go hungry."

Zheng San burst into tears.

Torches crackled, and the aroma of meat mingled with the smoke from burning firewood. A thousand people ate in silence, heads bowed, the only sounds being the clatter of chewing, bowls and chopsticks, and the occasional sob.

In Nanzheng City, the music and singing from the Prefect's residence drifted over the city walls.

Su Gu leaned against the window, gazing at the faint firelight in the west.

Chen Lun approached quietly: "Prefect, Liu Bei is hosting a banquet at the refugee camp to win over the people..."

"I understand," Su Gu interrupted.

"Can..."

"Chen Lun," Su Gu turned his head, his eyes dim in the candlelight, "tell me, which is more real, those refugees or the bear paw at our banquet?"

Chen Lun was stunned.

"When the people have been starving for a long time, they'll remember a piece of fatty meat for a lifetime. But we, who are used to eating delicacies, will forget about a bear's paw the moment we're given one." Su Gu smiled bitterly. "The people's hearts? The people's hearts are whoever gives them meat, they'll follow."

He waved his hand: "Go ahead. I'm tired too."

Chen Lun withdrew. Su Gu sat alone, listening to the laughter inside the hall, and suddenly felt cold.

He wrapped his robe tighter around himself and muttered to himself.

"Liu Bei, you didn't build a canal... you built my grave!"

The banquet ended in the west of the city.

Liu Bei saw off the last group of refugees and returned to camp side by side with Xun Cai. Snowflakes drifted down, feeling cool on their faces.

Xun Cai said softly, "It pained me to see Elder Zheng crying like that."

"It's good to feel uncomfortable." Liu Bei held her hand. "Remember this discomfort. From now on, every time we do something, we should think about it: Will Old Zheng cry? Will Wang Wu kneel? Will those kids who are getting candy... laugh?"

Xun Cai nodded and moved closer to him.

The snow fell thicker, covering the footprints. Torches flickered in the wind at the camp gate, illuminating the banner of Liu, the Commandant of Hanzhong.

The flag is new, but the cloth is still stiff.

The sixteenth day of the first month of the third year of Zhongping.

A sand table stood before the reviewing stand at the drill ground west of the city, with mud-sculpted mountains, wooden stockades, and rope markings indicating the route. Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Jian Yong, Qian Zhao, and Zhang Wu, clad in armor, stood around watching.

Liu Bei pointed to the sand table: "The three stockades of Micang Mountain, the four stockades of Bashan Mountain, plus those scattered hideouts in Xixiang, make a total of seven. We'll divide into four groups and sweep them clean."

"Guan Yu sweeps north across the Micang Mountains with five hundred men. When you encounter a stronghold, surround it first; those who surrender will be captured, and those who resist will be massacred. Remember, ask a few questions if you hear a Zhuojun accent."

Guan Yu nodded: "Understood."

"Yide, Nanqing, Bashan, bring five hundred men. Your road is treacherous, and the strongholds are mostly built against cliffs. Don't attack head-on; lure them down to fight."

Zhang Fei rubbed his hands together: "Understood!"

"Xianhe will lead a hundred men to pacify the villages in the west, primarily to ensure the safety of the people. He will also give Wang Chun and his ilk a taste of their own medicine while putting them in a difficult position."

Jian Yong noted it down.

"Zijing and Zhang Wu will each lead a hundred cavalrymen to act as guerrillas and fill in any gaps. If any route is in trouble, you will cover it. If any route is left unattended, you will intercept and kill them."

The two men clasped their hands in a fist salute.

Liu Bei straightened up and glanced at the five men: "Moving troops in the first month of the lunar calendar, the weather is cold and the roads are slippery, so be careful. What I want is for merchants and travelers within Hanzhong to travel in groups, and for women to go up the mountains without carrying knives."

"Yes, sir!"

Five groups of people left the city that day.

Guan Yu took the northern route, following a tributary of the Mian River into the mountains. Remnants of snow weighed down the withered grass by the roadside, and the horses' hooves crunched on the grass. His five hundred men were all veterans from Guangzong; their footsteps were silent, only the light clatter of their armor plates could be heard.

On the third day at noon, we arrived at the foot of Zuanshanshu Village.

The village was halfway up the mountain, surrounded by a wooden fence, with the gate tightly shut. A shadowy figure flickered on the wall; upon seeing the soldiers approaching, a gong sounded urgently.

Guan Yu ordered the horse to stop, then rode forward and reined it in when it was within an arrow's reach.

"Listen up, you in the village!" His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear from a hundred paces away. "The Hanzhong Commandery is suppressing bandits. Those who surrender will be spared, those who resist will be massacred."

A head popped out from over the wall, wrapped in a tattered leather hat: "Sir! We're just farmers, we haven't done anything wrong!"

"Farming?" Guan Yu raised his hand.

The crossbowmen behind them moved forward, three rows, a hundred powerful crossbows pointing simultaneously.

"A crossbow for farming?" Guan Yu said. "Here's half an incense stick's time. Open the door, throw down your weapons, and have the people come out and kneel. If you miss the deadline, the crossbow bolts will show no mercy."

There was no sound from the top of the wall.

Half an incense stick burned out.

The gate creaked open a crack, and dozens of men filed out, unarmed, and knelt down in the open space. Behind them emerged some women and children, huddled together, trembling.

Guan Yu ordered the disarmament and search of the stronghold. Thirty bows, fifty knives, one hundred bushels of millet, and several boxes of copper coins were found in the stronghold. One hundred and twenty-three surrendered soldiers were brought to the field.

In the end, eighty able-bodied men chose to stay, while forty-three were dismissed. Guan Yu ordered the camp burned and the surrendered soldiers escorted back.

Zhang Fei walked that road quickly.

The roads in Bashan were narrow and the forests dense, making it difficult for horses to traverse. Zhang Fei simply dismounted, shouldered his eighteen-foot spear, and led the way. Five hundred infantrymen followed behind, their footsteps kicking up snow.

Ghost Head Village is perched on a cliff, with sheer cliffs on three sides, accessible only by a single plank road. The plank road is made of wooden planks, no more than three feet wide, with its outer side suspended hundreds of feet in the air.

Zhang Fei looked up from the bottom of the cliff and grinned, "This is a bird's nest!"

The deputy asked, "General, shall we attack or not?"

"Attack my ass." Zhang Fei spat. "If you go up there, they'll cut down the plank road, and you'll all be smashed to pieces."

He ordered his men to retreat three miles to set up camp, and then led twenty skilled men around to the back of the mountain. The back of the mountain was a steep slope with no path, but old vines hung down.

Zhang Fei tugged at the vine; it was sturdy. He removed his armor, leaving only his undergarments, and strapped his eighteen-foot spear to his back.

"Stay close."