Heart's Turmoil
But Onii-chan… if I don’t do this, you won’t pay any attention to me!
The fortress at Pingyuan, expanded over nearly a year, had grown so vast that calling it a mere fortress no longer felt accurate. It was more fitting to call it a gatehouse now. Even in this era, limestone—commonly used as a building material—was ground fine and mixed with volcanic ash or sand to create cement. Mixing that cement with sand and gravel produced concrete. And when rebar was added to the concrete… the alpha and omega of construction materials used even in modern times, reinforced concrete, was complete.
Cement proved invaluable for paving roads in place of cut stone, while reinforced concrete transformed walls once piled from sandbags and rubble into smooth, seamless fortifications. Of course, simply tossing concrete and rebar together didn’t automatically yield rebar concrete; the ratios of cement, sand, and gravel had to be precise, and the iron used for the rebar framework required careful formulation. Still, I didn’t need to know the details. The laborers and researchers on site would figure out the proper ratios and keep improving them.
I’d mixed a few batches of concrete during my military days, but that had only involved pouring water into pre-mixed batches and combining them with rebar. I’d never actually made concrete from scratch with limestone, volcanic ash, sand, and gravel, so I naturally outsourced the work to carpenters, stonemasons, and the researchers. …Or rather, since the research institute was my direct R&D organ, was it insourcing? I wasn’t sure.
Just thinking about how the institute in Liaodong had taken over six years to complete its first major assignment—improving weights and measures—gave me a rough idea of how much effort those people had poured in.
In any case, the makeshift fortresses once built from wood and sandbags were gradually being replaced by seamless concrete walls, and barbed wire now lined the tops of the ramparts. The walls stood roughly three meters high and five meters thick, giving the impression of broad stone hills when viewed from above. Only select sections, including the main castle where Liu Bei resided, had been upgraded to concrete walls, but in five years—once His Imperial Majesty fully entered politics—the entire structure would likely function as a proper forward outpost.
At this point, it almost felt as though I were building a Great Wall to block invasions from the Central Plains… and half of that was true. When nomads, friends from the Korean Peninsula, or even distant island nations launched campaigns against the Central Plains, this would be the final stronghold they had to breach before reaching Luoyang.
Projects of this scale usually drew heavy criticism, but fortunately Yan had an enormous population, including many tenant farmers who still lacked their own fields. With improved threshers and plows reducing the labor needed for farming, tenant farmers found themselves with extra time on their hands. In a sense, I was running a kind of New Deal policy as ruler.
The research institute continued developing ways to reduce manpower requirements in agriculture and factories. Any surplus labor could then be redirected toward building national infrastructure. For now, most workers were still farmers earning extra money during the off-season rather than full-time construction crews, but even excluding those who had always been carpenters or stonemasons, quite a few people were discovering that construction was their true calling.
And the reason I’m mentioning all this is because I was on my way to meet the master of the gray-white castle built from reinforced concrete.
“Bi? What are you doing guarding the gate?”
“Big Brother? Did you come to see Sister?”
“Yeah, something like that. Is she inside?”
Liu Bei was getting married. The girl who seemed married to her work had somehow found a man, and the same girl who had been little more than a green recruit when we first met had grown enough to marry. It was impressive… and yet, given how she usually acted, it was hard to believe she had any interest in men at all. Hearing the news through Lady Jinjeong left me feeling strangely dazed.
“She’s here, but the atmosphere inside is a bit…”
“Atmosphere?”
“Yes. She seems… restless. I’ve never seen her like this before.”
“Who’s the groom again?”
“A man named Mi Zhu from Xuzhou. He’s decent enough—smart, wealthy…”
“Never heard of him. Mind if I go in?”
“Of course not. Sister! Big Brother is here!”
—What? Big Brother?! Why all of a sudden?
“He says he came to congratulate you on your marriage.”
—…Let him in.
“She says you may enter.”
I have ears, you know, kid.
The door opened. That person stepped inside.
Dark eyes, dark hair, wearing black silk robes in a style I had never seen before. Just as Master had said, he seemed like someone who had lived in a strange land—truly peculiar and fascinating. The man who had turned a mat-selling dreamer into the ruler of a province and become my second teacher, helping me navigate this chaotic age as a general. The ruthless man who had wanted to keep me close yet never offered the seat beside him.
I had thought I’d finally sorted my feelings and arranged a perfect match for the sake of my future plans, but the way my heart still fluttered proved that while one might know the depths of ten thousand li of water, the human heart remained unknowable.
“What brings you here, Big Brother?”
“I heard you were getting married, so I came to congratulate you.”
—The wise love, while the foolish covet, or so they say.
“…Thank you. I’ll accept your kind words.”
“Is something bothering you? Are you being forced into this marriage because someone has leverage over you?”
“No, that’s not it.”
He never gave me an opening, yet he still worried about me. The man who saved me at Changli when the government troops broke and death seemed certain, the man who protected my two sisters and me at Laling even as the tendons in his body tore while holding back hundreds of thousands of Yellow Turbans with only ten thousand deathsworn. The man who never mocked my dream of unifying the realm and restoring the Han imperial house, instead supporting it. The man whose harsh words hid genuine care.
“It’s nothing like that…”
“What, are you crying?”
The man I wanted but could never have, the man who would only bring me unhappiness if I took him. Now that I knew a man like you existed, no other man could ever satisfy me. You terrible person.
Perhaps I really was a fool. Even knowing I shouldn’t want it, I still did.
—Why is she acting like this? Is this that marriage blues thing or whatever it’s called?
“Hic…”
“Hey… hey, wipe your tears first. Bi! Zhang Fei! Sorry, but could you bring some water? Cold, if possible.”
—Ah! Yes!
Liu Bei, who had been trying to hold back her sobs, finally burst into tears.
“Huu… yes… hwaaaah!”
“Hey… blow your nose first. Come on, blow.”
Since tissues didn’t exist in this era, I used the handkerchief I carried to wipe Liu Bei’s face, flipped it over to let her blow her nose, and patted her back. After crying for a long while, drinking the cold water Zhang Fei brought, and completely destroying one handkerchief, she finally calmed down a little.
…This one’s ruined.
I tossed the soggy, tear-and-snot-soaked cloth into the distance and met Liu Bei’s reddened eyes.
“You don’t want to get married?”
“…No.”
“Then don’t. A loveless marriage is hell.”
“But… but…”
“But what? You said you wanted recognition as imperial kin. Do you really think skipping one marriage will stop that from happening?”
Social expectations? They could go to hell. The Confucian scholars who had opposed me when I declared I wouldn’t have children a few years ago had all been persuaded through “very thorough interviews.” Marriage was something you did if you wanted to and didn’t if you didn’t. Even if you married, having children was your choice. It was an entirely personal matter, not something for others to meddle in.
In the first place, none of those Clean Stream faction members who obsessed over pointless etiquette had achievements comparable to mine. With such a gap in results, I could suppress most objections no matter what lofty principles they brought forward. And since His Imperial Majesty was on our side… the answer was obvious.
“A man of my rank can’t even change people’s opinions for his sister’s sake? If you don’t want to do it, then don’t. As Governor of Pingyuan, I can throw my weight around that much.”
“…Big Brother.”
“What.”
“……I’m sorry you had to see me like this when you came to congratulate me.”
“It’s fine. Everyone has moments like this.”
“I think I need some time to collect myself. If you’ll excuse me…”
“Ah, sure, sure. I’ll head out. This is an herb called ginseng from Liaodong. It’s good for vitality, so brew and drink it. Rest well, and once you’ve calmed down, send word… If you can’t bring yourself to say it, I’ll go talk to that Mi Zhu fellow myself.”
Marriage, children—who cared about any of that? This was the same girl who could joke “We can probably manage up to a hundred thousand” even when facing a million-strong army. Seeing the future warlord whose dreams had once burned so brightly reduced to this state was a first for me.
“I’m afraid this marriage proposal will have to be withdrawn… So it really didn’t work out after all.”
Mi Zhu, the great magnate of Xuzhou, unfolded the letter from the Governor of Pingyuan and gave a bitter smile. Honestly, he hadn’t particularly liked her. His lord, Tao Qian the Governor of Xuzhou, had wanted closer ties with Yan, so Mi Zhu had thought a marriage alliance between their subordinates might help. The Governor of Pingyuan would gain his wealth and connections, while he himself could rise higher by tying himself to the sworn sister of the Duke of Yan. It had seemed like a mutually beneficial arrangement.
Or rather, since they had never even met face to face, this proposal had only ever been a political tool to strengthen both sides’ positions.
“What a shame… truly a shame. If only the Governor of Pingyuan had been a man, I might have sent my sister as a concubine instead.”
Ever since Emperor Gaozu Liu Bang, women’s social advancement had supposedly become easier, yet the biological necessity of ten months of pregnancy and the high infant mortality rate of the era remained intertwined with Confucian ideals of continuing the family line, which was why the system of wives and concubines persisted. Warlords commonly kept one or two concubines, while cases like the Duke of Yan—who loved only his primary wife—were rare.
“Like brother, like sister. Refusing to marry anyone but the person they love… They really do belong in some romantic novel.”
It was disappointing that such a massive opportunity had collapsed, but if Mi Zhu had wallowed in regret, he never would have become Xuzhou’s greatest magnate.
“Burn this letter. Cancel all the preparations we had made.”
“Yes, sir.”