A Child on the Way and the Call to War
The physician I brought said he could sense a pregnancy. After a full year of marriage, my wife and I could scarcely contain our joy at the news.
"Enough already—stop talking about it everywhere." Even Father had to tell him to quit blabbing.
"Are you trying to become a grandson or something?"
"What's wrong with that?"
Once the pregnancy was confirmed, my wife and I grew even closer. Before, we'd simply shared the same space; now, our skin seemed fused together as we spent our days. Even when playing Go, we'd set the stones on either side from the same direction. Being left-handed by nature, the jar on my left felt perfectly natural.
"I brought some plum tea."
"Thank you."
Morning sickness made her sensitive to smells. She craved sour foods often, sending the servants out frequently to fetch them. Her puffed cheeks as she chewed were so endearing that I'd poke them gently each time. The next six months flew by in a blur after she conceived.
While we cozied up at home, the realm grew ever more turbulent. The next three years would be a fleeting resurgence for the court—a last gasp before Dong Zhuo's arrival severed its thread for good. My goal was to nurture that fragile silk strand back to life. To do that, I planned to avoid bucking history's current for now. You can't paint without ink, brush, or pigments, after all. Until I gathered my tools, I'd sketch rough outlines with charcoal.
That is, until an unwelcome letter arrived in the fourth year of Zhongping (187 AD), at the start of summer.
I was resting in our room with my wife when a servant came for me. But the message he relayed was absurd.
"A subordinate official? From whom?"
Only someone like a governor or administrator could send a subordinate. Flustered by the unexpected summons, I pressed the servant.
"He says it's from the newly appointed Xuzhou Inspector, Tao Qian."
Hearing that, I rubbed my forehead. My ignorance of Tao Qian's appointment was entirely my own fault—a regret born of holing up too long indoors.
"So Father's speaking with him now?"
"Yes. He said he'd get to the point once you arrived, young master."
I couldn't afford to keep the official waiting and compound my blunder. Pushing self-reproach aside, I headed to the guest hall.
Tao Qian must be rallying clan support—and likely seeking aid for the coming Yellow Turban suppression. A shame he's tangled by the pretext of raising militias. And...
As I walked, I sketched a blueprint of the situation. Like it or not, the militias would entangle with this affair somehow.
"I hear we have an honored guest."
Father was already entertaining him when I entered with greetings. He introduced me as his partner in negotiations.
"From the Inspector, I presume?"
I probed the official's intent, but he countered with an outrageous demand.
"No time for pleasantries—I'll get to the point. I seek your cooperation in suppressing the Yellow Turban remnants."
The blunt proposal, sans courtesy, left me stunned. Keeping my voice steady, I asked,
"Have you approached the other clans?"
"You're the first."
Us first? Even if he dispatched multiple envoys, the order was off. Normally, you'd start with the richest houses.
"The Inspector is newly posted and may not yet grasp Xuzhou's full lay of the land. How could a minor clan like ours contribute before the greater ones? There's a proper order to these things—you should seek the major houses first."
My polite refusal made his brow twitch. He set down his teacup and pressed on.
"Young master, modesty is a virtue, but excess becomes deception. The Yellow Turbans are a plague on the realm—turning a blind eye ill befits propriety, wouldn't you say?"
His sharp thrust didn't faze me. I parried smoothly.
"I have no intention of shirking duty. But starting with the prominent clans ensures the lesser ones follow the tide."
I named the Mi clan of Mi Zhu, the Chen clan of Chen Gui, the Qiao clan of Zao Biao—one by one. My intent was clear.
Poach from the bottom to pressure the top? Sorry, wrong mark.
I repeated ad nauseam that we couldn't afford to irk greater clans. Sensing my resolve, the official dangled incentives.
"Hah, the Inspector knows such plights well. He rewards merit fittingly."
He hadn't offered it upfront—probably planning to skim some himself. He'd rat me out to Tao Qian later, no doubt.
"Is this the Inspector's promise?"
"Sealed with his official stamp. No need for worry."
The document outlined rewards of land, wealth, or office based on contribution levels. Tempting enough to consider, if not irresistible.
"What's the timeline?"
By implying acceptance through the question, I tested the waters. If Tao Qian succeeded, we'd break even; he wasn't the type to lose to remnants.
"Join by Daji at latest."
"Very well. If things go awry, I'll send word."
He snatched the agreement and bolted. His haste suggested Tao Qian was courting every clan.
Alone with Father now, he asked,
"How much cooperation do you envision?"
"All five hundred militia we've raised."
"Not sure it's worth it."
Doubt creased his face as I laid out my reasons.
"First, Tao Qian's record in civil and military affairs is stellar. He won't end as mere Inspector."
He was using the suppression to wrangle clans now, but rising to Xuzhou Governor made firm alliance wise.
"Second, pulling back under the militia pretext invites suspicion of hidden motives."
True enough, but no need to flaunt it.
"Third, no better first battle awaits."
Even well-trained troops falter without experience—especially against Dong Zhuo's battle-hardened forces next. This campaign was vital: official troops as live textbooks, aiding us at low blood cost—a rare boon.
"What if he discards us as dead weight?"
"Spurning cooperative clans would erode all support. He'd calculate that much."
Father nodded after my rundown. As I pondered joining by Daji, he asked,
"But son, leaving your wife behind? Her time's near, as I recall."
A cruel choice loomed. I wrestled till midnight, weighing options and sacrifices.
My relentless thoughts yielded dawn's verdict. To my just-awakened wife, I declared,
"I must go suppress the Yellow Turbans."
A sinking ship demands plugging the hole, salt in wounds be damned—lest you drown. With no posthumous ambitions, I had to live, eyes forward, duty unmet or not.
Her eyes flashed wide, then dropped in resignation.
"Understood."
"And I'm sor—"
"No apologies."
She silenced me with a finger to my lips. Now my eyes widened.
"Last year, maybe—but not now. Shall I hinder my resolute husband?"
She eased her crinkled eyes with fingertips.
"Just promise to return. No coffins. I won't widow young."
Her jest lightened the air. I vowed a full lifespan—doubly so, with Cao Cao as future lord.
Speaking of, time for a letter to Jojo.
Serving another after pledging to him risked betrayal's stain.
Fourth year of Zhongping (187 AD), first day of the sixth month. With five hundred militia and three hundred dan of grain, we marched.
First campaign nerves gripped the men. Without Wang Jun, mobilizing would've been impossible. Even at a crawl, no stragglers fell out.
"We've arrived at last."
Seven days shy of Daji, we linked with Tao Qian's official army.
"True professionals."
His troops' discipline exceeded expectations: sturdy palisades, sharp-eyed sentries.
"Jang Myeong, reporting for suppression duty by the Inspector's command."
I saluted Tao Qian at the camp gate.
"I've heard much of you—from court rumors to the Governor here. This'll make suppression smoother."
He straightened my belt with a smile, but his eyes stayed keen. Warm words masked cold appraisal of worth—like a sly fox, unlike honorable Huangfu Song.
"Impressive. They'll fight as equals to mine."
As I sized him up, he eyed my militia. Serviceable as support, if not elite.
"Overpraise—we lack real combat."
"What matter? This from training alone suffices."
A glint of greed for my men. Unacceptable—I probed subtly.
"Inspector, may I ask how much clan support you've garnered?"
"None showed truer heart than yours."
"More than the Mi or Chen clans?"
"They sent face-saving minimums. Raw numbers favor them, but proportionally? You're ahead."
Not idle curiosity: a reminder of our generosity, shade on others' tepidness.
Neglect our early hand, and no clan follows.
A veteran like Tao Qian knew it well.
"I'll not forget this favor."
"Your recognition humbles us."