Run for It
I shouted at the top of my lungs, “Kids! Pack your bags! We’re bugging out!”
That was the conclusion I had reached after several days of careful deliberation. I had to run. I had been lulled into a false sense of security because the Emperor was still in his early thirties, but there is no set order to who goes first. …Wait, didn’t they say he was the one who built the most ridiculously powerful imperial authority in Han history and spent his days wallowing in luxury and pleasure? Did he decorate his rooms with arsenic compounds like some Victorian noble because he thought it was pretty? Or maybe he licked lead because it tasted sweet? Sure, the average lifespan in this era is low, but thirty is still way too young. Was the stress that bad? Did he observe three full years of mourning out of extreme filial piety? None of that adds up. Why the hell would the Emperor who sucked up more honey than anyone else in Han history kick the bucket so soon?
The Yellow Turban Rebellion hadn’t been properly suppressed, and the local gentry who had been on the verge of being wiped out were beginning to rear their heads again. At the same time, the momentum of the loyalist nobles who should have been keeping those provincial powers in check had been thoroughly crushed. If the imperial authority had become overwhelmingly strong, allowing the feudal lords to choose the next Emperor, or if we were in an era like King Munjong’s reign where both royal power and the succession were rock-solid, maybe things would be different. But we were stuck in this awkward middle ground where neither was true.
The Western Garden Army, which was supposed to be directly under the Emperor’s command, was openly split between the Clean Stream faction under Cao Cao and Yuan Shao, all operating under the nominal leadership of Jian Shi. Meanwhile, the faction of Dong Zhuo—the warlord whose power level was basically that of 21st-century Somalia—was slowly but surely taking shape. The whole situation had been a runaway train with broken brakes from the start, and now even the driver had passed out. All that remained was a catastrophic crash. If the brakes had been working, we might have stopped in time. If the driver had been conscious, he could have at least tried to steer back onto the proper track using engine braking or some insane inertial drift. But now there was no answer left.
Therefore, the only move was to run. Just like how my father-in-law and Lady Jin had fled from You Province to Liaodong, and just like how that troublemaker Liu Bei had gone into hiding not long ago, the best countermeasure when an unmanageable problem approached was to get the hell out of dodge.
“Then, this unworthy disciple shall now return to his hometown.”
“Will you be alright?”
“I’ve prepared a boat, so I should manage somehow. Will you be fine, Master?”
“I have no problems. My name has grown far too valuable for anyone to easily take my head. All thanks to you.”
Master Lu Zhi had become the greatest war hero produced by the Yellow Turban Rebellion. He wasn’t the type to indulge in excessive luxury, so there was little to criticize, and his disciples—spread throughout both the Clean Stream and Dirty Stream factions—would never sit idly by while he was harmed. The Ten Eunuchs were indeed… no, extremely greedy, but they weren’t fools who would willingly tighten the noose around their own necks. Such idiots could never have risen to the position of the Ten Attendants in the first place, and even if they had, holding onto their seats against the influx of ambitious young eunuchs would have been nearly impossible.
The Clean Stream faction had no choice but to support Master, who had always been on their side. Exiling a war hero who had revived their utterly ruined faction through the Battle of Danggu, a man who was practically the godfather of the Clean Stream, would be like Germany, after finally ending the Anschluss, deciding to purge Hitler. It was simply unthinkable.
I paid my respects to Master, then mounted my horse with the ten sharp-tongued talents from Luoyang who had sworn to follow me. No matter how much I had declared a strike as a short-timer colonel, I couldn’t just ignore the young sprouts who had come seeking my teachings. Some of them had attached themselves to Yuan Shao, some to Dong Zhuo, some to Jian Shi, and the last few had decided to come with me to Liaodong to live the good life.
“Hya!”
“Halt! Baiyu! I said stop!”
A man’s shout rang out from behind us. I could sense Cao Cao’s personal guards giving chase, but those fashionistas who only attached one stirrup to their saddles could never catch up to us, who pursued extreme practicality.
“Don’t look back! I’ve prepared a boat on the Yellow River. We’ll follow it downstream all the way to Donglai!”
“Hey! Gongsun Zan! Are you running away because you’re scared of the Ten Eunuchs?!”
You guys are the ones I’m scared of, you idiots! Did the country fall apart just because of the Ten Eunuchs? No, the whole system is a complete mess on every level. If the imperial authority were still strong, I might have been able to think of a next move. I could have created an F.D.R.-style national land reclamation project using the lives of the officials as collateral to improve the livelihood of the common people. Or I could have clung to power with the mindset of “it’ll be fine as long as it’s not during my reign,” trading legitimacy and justification for survival. But if the power of the ministers grows too strong? The country will split in two, then three, then dozens or even hundreds of pieces, falling into a state of war of all against all. You people aren’t going to meekly follow the will of the majority like a modern democracy, are you? Even intellectuals living in the 21st century don’t fully agree with the principle of majority rule, so there’s no way a primitive ancient society could pull it off. Inevitably, this era would value the logic of power far more than any sophistry about deduction or induction. Unfortunately, my own forces were still far too weak to establish that logic of power.
It was a miscalculation. I had assumed the Emperor would live at least another ten years. By then, Liu Bei—the future major warlord—would have reached a suitable age, and Cao Cao would have gained enough weight and presence. Cao Cao and I were only in our late twenties, Liu Bei was in her mid-twenties, and Sun… what was her name again? I had never even heard her name, so I had let my guard down completely.
“The North Gate! Once we pass that, it’s the Yellow River! Just hold on a little longer!”
“S-stop! Halt!”
“I am Gongsun Zan, former Colonel of the Left of the Western Garden Army and a man of You Province! There is an urgent family matter, so I will explain later!”
Leaving Luoyang while the Emperor lay collapsed carried considerable risk, but fortunately neither I nor my close associates had ever had the chance to meet the Emperor directly. I was nothing more than a decorative general, and the ten young friends I had newly befriended were far too small fry to have ever encountered the Emperor or his inner circle. The only major figure from the Clean Stream faction I had connections with was Master Lu Zhi, and his accumulated image and authority made it impossible for him to do anything untoward to the Emperor. I had no particular ties to the Dirty Stream faction either; if I had to name one, it would only be Grand General He Jin, whom I had met once three years ago. Unless Yuan Shao or Cao Cao had done something suspicious to the Emperor, there was no reason for anyone to suspect me.
Yuan Shao? Cao Cao? The only place I ever met them was at taverns. I had deliberately chosen open seats and made sure the people around us could hear my conversations. Avoiding the creation of any pretext was something I had been forced to do to an exhausting degree in my previous life.
“North Gate Captain, these are men whose term as Colonel of the Left has ended and are simply returning home. Please, do us this favor.”
I tossed them an appropriate “token of sincerity,” passed the gate guards who still hadn’t fully grasped the situation, and rode straight out of the North Gate.
“Huff… huff… Colonel of the Left! Did you really have to go this far?!”
“Who are you?!”
“I am Yan Liang, a man who shares ideals with Lord Yuan Benchu! My lord took a liking to the Colonel of the Left’s character and wished to work together with you. How can you flee without even listening to what we have to say?!”
“Flee? I said I was returning home because of family matters!”
“What matter could possibly be more important than the Emperor’s collapse?!”
…This was bad. It seemed Yuan Shao had already decided on his path forward. Cao Cao had stopped pursuing me once I clearly expressed my intention to return to my hometown after passing through the North Gate, but Yuan Shao kept chasing me all the way, even sending his own subordinate general.
Should I kill him? …No. The aftermath would be too messy. In this era without proper medical technology, the chances of a young Emperor who had collapsed getting back up were slim. The provincial gentry who were already beginning to raise their heads would clearly seize the opportunity of a shaken imperial authority to revolt. In that case, the safest place at this moment was land ruled by a member of the imperial clan.
The newly appointed Governor of You Province, Liu Yu, was not only an elder of the imperial family but also a well-known benevolent man with no rumors of poor character. In an era where the only way to gather information about someone was through rumors, a Governor of You Province who had cultivated an image as a good person would have no reason to expel me, nor would he suddenly rise up claiming I had the aura of a king. At least in this period, breaking one’s own image required a commensurate benefit. No matter how I thought about it, there was no such benefit to be gained from the throne of a country that would collapse within the next hundred years.
The Han Dynasty was already finished. Everyone knew it.
Gongsun Zan’s flight itself posed no major problem. It was true that his father-in-law, the former Administrator of You Province Hu, had suffered a sudden decline in health. Since Administrator Hu had no sons, the only person available to care for him was his daughter, Lady Hu. Given that Gongsun Zan’s term as Colonel of the Left had ended, his decision to return home was something the Clean Stream faction—which valued loyalty and filial piety—would encourage rather than criticize. The Dirty Stream faction had no reason to refuse the entry of a “newcomer” who brought substantial wealth. Since he had shown no particular “sincerity” in seeking connections with the Emperor, the Ten Eunuchs regarded him as nothing more than a capable warrior with an exceedingly ordinary scholarly character. Busy with the far more important task of installing the next Emperor, they did not heavily censure Gongsun Zan’s departure.
The only one who took issue with Gongsun Zan’s flight was Yuan Shao.
“How could you let him get away, Yan Liang!”
“I am sorry. Their horses were too swift; we simply could not catch up.”
It was strange. Both his men and Yuan Shao himself were riding horses purchased from the same horse market in Luoyang. If anything, the horses provided by the prestigious Yuan clan should have been superior to Gongsun Zan’s, yet their horsemanship was on par with those northern barbarians.
“…Well, I suppose it makes sense. He did break through a million Yellow Turbans. It wouldn’t have been easy. It was my mistake… I thought that, being human, he would have at least a little ambition.”
“No, it was my failure!”
Though Yuan Shao outwardly blamed himself, none of his subordinates took those words at face value. He was a politician. He never uttered a single word carelessly, and he was a master at claiming all credit for himself while shifting all blame onto his subordinates. He was a political monster who would wear formal attire instead of armor on a battlefield raining with arrows for the sake of his image, and a man ruthless enough to kill his own son if necessary. In that sense, he shared the same vein as the scientific monarch Yeongjo who would appear a thousand years later.
“We have lost the greatest spear with which to strike at the Ten Eunuchs. If the next Emperor possesses the same temperament as His Majesty… the court will once again be swept by a bloody wind.”
Unfortunately, the eldest legitimate son, Prince of History Liu Bian, had been raised in the Taoist temple of Master Shi and therefore lacked the proper qualities of a monarch. On the other hand, pushing Prince of Bohai Liu Xie would mean offending his own backer, He Jin, and the boy’s legitimacy was also weak.
“As long as we cannot remove the Ten Eunuchs, the future of the Han Dynasty cannot be bright.”
Strictly speaking, no matter who became Emperor, the future of the Han Dynasty could not be bright. None of his subordinates were foolish enough to point out that the hidden meaning behind the political monster’s words was the arrogant belief that “I am the Han Dynasty,” though there had once been such people. Now there were none.
‘Use the Grand General to eliminate the Ten Eunuchs. Duke Lu Zhi and Duke Gongsun have tacitly approved of this matter. I wonder if my friend Aman will be angry… I cannot tell.’
As long as the Ten Eunuchs remained alive, Yuan Shao’s dream would end here. And the Ten Eunuchs had no reason to sour their relationship with the Grand General—who stood in the ambiguous middle ground between the Dirty Stream and Clean Stream factions—and thereby tighten the noose around their own necks. At least, not if no one interfered.
Yuan Shao took out a jar of fine liquor from inside a cabinet, something suitable to present as a gift.
“For now, I must meet with the Grand General. The tyranny of the Ten Eunuchs grows worse by the day… I fear the Grand General himself may come to harm.”