Curtain Rises on the Age of Heroes (2)
I didn’t know it at the time, but in this era the sale of offices allowed for outright loans. What the hell does that even mean? It meant you could buy a government post on credit and pay it back later. The entire purpose of the practice had been to provide at least some minimal vetting of ability in ancient societies that couldn’t run proper examinations or civil-service tests. This was the kind of insanity that completely undermined the system’s own reason for existing.
Given the wretched state of the country, the fact that the Yellow Turban Rebellion had been put down did not mean the Han Dynasty had any real chance to rebuild. The rebels’ demands were rejected outright; only a handful of people with any sense of the bigger picture had offered personal favors. That much was inevitable.
Time passed. By late winter, the venomous-faced eunuch delivered an imperial edict that made it clear the time had come to leave.
“Look, do I really have to go?”
“Are you insane?”
“Lord Administrator, the whole world has gone to hell. What possible glory could a mere merchant like me find in Luoyang? Can’t I just stay here with you, even if all we eat is watery porridge?”
“Let me say it again. Are you out of your mind?”
“Come on! I’m telling you, I feel like I’ll die if I go!”
“Why, because of those ridiculous rumors?”
“You know exactly what I mean. All that nonsense about blood rushing to my head and me being the reincarnation of Chi You or whatever. If the big shots decide they don’t like me, isn’t that the perfect excuse to chew me up and spit me out?”
“Pfft! Them? Bwahahahaha! Zan, my friend, you’re still so naïve. Bwaha… haha… Don’t look at me like that, it’s terrifying.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Who do the common people fear most right now? The Emperor? The Ten Eunuchs? Wrong! It’s the human butcher of You Province! The very incarnation of injustice… *cough*! *cough*… Puhaha! The monarch! The avatar of terror! That’s you! Who in their right mind would stab a hero like that in the back? Especially while the Yellow Turban mess isn’t even fully cleaned up?”
The Administrator of Liaodong, Gongsun, dragged his chair closer and put on a deliberately solemn air.
“Remember this: the Ten Eunuchs are greedy, but they are not incompetent. You don’t climb to the very top in Luoyang—a pit of vipers where you need ten thousand serpents writhing in your gut just to survive—by being stupid. Unless you’re planning to mess with their rice bowls, they won’t touch you. They know exactly how precious their own lives are.”
“What about the Emperor?”
“Would that man bother paying attention to country bumpkins like us?”
“That… what?”
“You don’t have a speck of real loyalty yourself, so spare me the act.”
“Ahem!”
“Anyway, there won’t be any problems. He’s probably already forgotten he even sent the document. That’s the sort of man he is.”
“It’s annoying.”
“It is. But what can you do? You want your salary, you play the game. Beats farming for a living, doesn’t it?”
Even if the country was falling apart, rewards and punishments still had to be handed out to those who had rendered distinguished service. The Ten Eunuchs might be exceptionally greedy, but they at least knew how to protect their own necks with terrifying skill. In the original history, the ones who finally cut those necks were not the eunuchs’ failure to take care of their own, but the Grand General—the man they had thought was a colleague—joining hands with Yuan Shao, the Clean Stream faction’s greatest product, and stabbing them in the back first.
“Then how much exactly do we need to give this Gongsun Zan fellow…”
“Wouldn’t promoting him to Administrator of Liaodong be enough?”
“The current Administrator of Liaodong is already one of Gongsun’s men. Promoting him would mean sending that gentleman somewhere even better…”
“What if we send Inspector of You Province Liu Yu out to the provinces and elevate Gongsun instead?”
“Wasn’t the Inspector of You Province post already promised to Liu Yu?”
“Ugh… There are too many people who’ve earned merits. It’s tricky. Sending him somewhere like Yizhou would just cause a tantrum, though.”
“What about compensating him with wealth instead?”
“Are you mad? If His Majesty finds out… Wait. Wealth… wealth, you say… Is the man still unmarried?”
“I hear he married the daughter of You Province Administrator Liu Qi several years ago.”
“Children?”
“None yet, it seems. There was talk that he adopted an orphan from Changshan and is raising her as his daughter.”
“Aigoo… Tsk. No good, then. Let’s just give him a Colonel’s post in the Western Garden Army.”
“An excellent suggestion. Which one?”
“Left Colonel should suffice. His merits are great, but… ahem, he is after all a general from the borderlands, so his ‘loyalty’ is somewhat lacking.”
“Hem, hem… The merchant of Liaodong, Gongsun Zan, Colonel of the Left Zhonglang General Dong Zhuo, and the previously dismissed former Colonel of the Northern Army Lu Zhi have arrived for audience.”
“Good. Send them in.”
It had been years since the Emperor had properly attended to his duties. The eunuch faction, swollen enormously after the Danggu Incident, had done what it always did when its master let go of the reins: drown itself in luxury and pleasure. Most of those who had shown “loyalty” to them possessed scholarly rather than military physiques.
That was why the faces of the Ten Eunuchs stiffened the moment they saw the three men who entered the audience chamber.
Those three were not human.
Lu Zhi’s build had been famous for a long time. Over eight chi tall and approaching nine, his body—honed by long years in the army—was a work of martial art. Yet even he looked almost slender next to the other two. The Ten Eunuchs, who were nothing more than palace castrates, found it impossible to offer their usual oily chuckles.
Dong Zhuo’s frame carried the aura of a hero who had conquered the savage lands of Xiliang. He was not particularly tall, but every scar carved across his body told the history of battlefields he had survived. His eyes, brimming with killing intent, seemed beyond anything the Han could produce.
And then there was Gongsun Zan, the man who had earned the greatest merits in this Yellow Turban Rebellion. Looking at him, the street rumors that he was the living incarnation of Chi You suddenly made perfect sense.
Even the towering Lu Zhi had to look up at him. Though he wore loose robes, they could not conceal a physique so massive that two ordinary men would be needed to match its bulk. His face was rather handsome, yet the shoulder muscles rising above his collar were grotesque with thick, corded veins. His hands, roughened once more by several battlefields, looked fully capable of tearing an ordinary person apart bare-handed.
“Your subjects—Dong Zhuo and two others—have come before the Emperor in obedience to imperial command.”
Moreover, even though they were not standing directly before the throne, the way they held themselves ramrod straight with expressions that radiated not gratitude but pure annoyance was enough to send chills down the eunuchs’ spines. It was entirely understandable.
Whoa… So that’s Dong Zhuo? That… great son of a bitch?
I knew in a vague way that he was a bastard. He was the guy who took over as Colonel after my master and caused some minor trouble that gave me the excuse to come to Luoyang. But hearing the stories, he was actually a fairly competent warlord by the standards of this era.
Having spoken with him directly, his character wasn’t the absolute worst. I even got the impression we could communicate pretty well. As expected, taking ancient records at face value really was the act of an idiot.
“Brother Gongsun, how is it you’re not nervous at all?”
“Even my master shows no tension. It would be shameful for his disciple to be the one who falters.”
“Hahaha! True, true. By the way, Brother Gongsun, would you ever consider working under me in the future?”
“I am grateful for the invitation, but I still have a great deal of work left in Liaodong.”
“Is that so? Then it can’t be helped. Should you change your mind later, come find me anytime. Dong Zhongying always welcomes capable talent.”
Hard pass.
The heroes of this world don’t know much, but I at least know roughly who reaches the finish line. Given my age, I plan to die of natural causes long before anyone crosses it. Thanks to that, no matter who ends up on top, I’m confident I can live comfortably.
And Dong Zhuo… hmm… I think he falls around chapter two? Or was it three? I can’t quite remember, but it’s probably accurate. One thing I do know is that Liu Bei dies before the final showdown and his son inherits the position. What was the kid’s name again… Liu Shan? Liu Chuan? I can’t recall.
Liu Bei is only a little over twenty right now, and Cao Cao is still young too. If a middle-aged man like Dong Zhuo could seize real power and pacify the realm, there should never have been a need for Liu Bei’s son to take over. That’s only logical.
Besides, this man is a soldier through and through. The kind from what feels like a fourth-world country. I can feel personal goodwill toward him, but putting a guy like this in charge of proper state projects would be madness. He’s the type who’d throw a complete fit and go berserk the moment you mention civilian oversight. A proto-fascist if there ever was one. Even the great Mussolini ended up hanging from a gas station, so there’s no way a man with lesser achievements could manage real governance.
At least Mussolini was competent outside of war. This guy was simply a capable minister in peacetime and an idiot in chaotic times. He was probably the only Italian in history who banned pasta. Maybe he liked pizza himself and got annoyed whenever anyone else ordered pasta. He just had that kind of stupid charm. The kind of badass gangster who caught other gangsters, shook down barbarian tribes for protection money, and threw banquets with his subordinates. A very common archetype.
“His Majesty the Emperor approaches!”
At the eunuch’s cry I assumed the proper ceremonial posture. It was an extremely curved stance for a body that had no business living in first-century antiquity, and every muscle in my frame immediately began screaming at me to stop.
Crack. Crunch.
Since I could not raise my head, I had no idea what expression the man on the high throne was making. Still, if he had even a shred of human decency, he could at least allow me to straighten my back. Prostrating fully in this body was genuine torture.