Strategic Patience
We spent a comfortable day at Ye Baek-sa's house. By the next morning, my aching body felt much better.
"I'm sorry we have to head straight back to the clan."
"Not at all. Come visit again sometime. One meal yesterday wasn't nearly enough."
Ye Baek-sa saw us off with a smile right to the end. For a man like this to die from a mere misunderstanding spoke volumes about how harsh the world had become.
"We can use the waterways now."
At a ferry on the edge of Henan, we took the river straight back to Peng State. To avoid suspicion, we looked for a merchant vessel—and luckily found one heading to Peng State, which we boarded. The wind was against us but weak, and the current favored us, so our speed held steady.
"We're finally back."
Less than half a month after leaving Luoyang, we returned to Jojo's clan. Just in case the family was worried, I sent a letter assuring them I'd escaped unscathed.
A few days after resting at home, Jojo summoned me, saying he had something to discuss. I had plenty to consult with him about as well, so I went straight to him.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Let's discuss what we should do next."
On the road fleeing Luoyang, we hadn't had a moment to gauge how the world was turning. Only after arriving at Chohyeon Castle did I use the Jo clan's influence to gather news from the capital. But even then, Luoyang to Chohyeon was a three-day ride for a relay messenger at full gallop. The freshest news we had was already six days old.
"For starters, Brother Bencho fled alone."
Yuan Shao had moved just as I remembered from history. He'd rebuked Dong Zhuo and left—a brilliant political move hinting at opposition without committing outright.
"Any word on the Yuan clan in Luoyang?"
"No news probably means they're still there, but with Brother Bencho gone like that, they won't have fared well."
It was a ploy to sacrifice his whole family for fame.
"What about the deposition? Did it happen while we were gone?"
"Not yet. But with Dong Zhuo killing off officials left and right, it's only a matter of time."
Jojo slammed his fist on the table, unable to contain his boiling rage.
"That's why I'm circulating a proclamation to rally the anti-Dong Zhuo faction! Before that traitor gets his way, we must gather the righteous scholars of the realm and take his head!"
I calmly offered my counterargument.
"It's too early to move now."
Jojo rubbed his eyes, his voice thick with frustration.
"Too early? The traitor's about to depose the Emperor— what could be more urgent? Where's that decisiveness you showed in Luoyang?"
"Dong Zhuo's already seized military and political power. Move rashly, and he'll crush us in the bud."
I met his gaze squarely.
"Acting prematurely makes this just a clan revolt. Only when Dong Zhuo crosses the point of no return with deposition will the realm erupt in fury and change the narrative."
"That sounds like waiting for the unrest to die down. In the meantime, he could consolidate his foes and strengthen his base."
"He might pacify Luoyang with his troops for now, but the realm dwarfs the capital. Dong Zhuo can't weather the backlash forever."
History had reached this point, so the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition was inevitable. No need to rush—better to prepare until the warlords rose. If the coalition gained more momentum than in the original timeline, Jojo could launch into the era of warlords with an edge over the rest.
"Then how about we take the lead and form the coalition ourselves?"
Jojo always seized opportunities aggressively. He had the insight and execution to make it work, so his idea wasn't wrong.
"I oppose that too. We lack the prestige or offices to command governors, administrators, or marquises. And even if we had the qualifications, I'd still say no."
But rushing unknown futures would render my knowledge obsolete. This was one to avoid.
"Jojo, just one question. If we topple Dong Zhuo, what do you plan for the Emperor forced onto the throne?"
"How could we blame His Majesty for being coerced? I say we purge Dong Zhuo and his cronies."
"Will all the great scholars agree? Some will demand restoring the previous Emperor; others will push a new one. Who knows what else might arise. Can you truly unite them?"
Jojo had no ready answer. Even he knew there was no clean solution.
"If the coalition fractures, the blame falls on the leader or instigator. Bear that burden, and it'll be a weakness forever."
"So wait for others to rise first? But sitting idle is a loss, isn't it?"
Jojo's face remained stern. Yielding the initiative clearly rankled.
Left like this, he'd overrule me and charge ahead. I offered words to soothe him.
"You're right. So we scheme quietly. There's plenty to do—raise righteous militias, issue proclamations."
"Be specific."
His tone softened; my words had swayed him. I laid out the tasks one by one. Diligently gathering intel over the past month had given me a hazy view of the realm.
The fastest-spreading news was, predictably, the deposition. Four weeks after Dong Zhuo first mentioned it, he deposed Emperor Shao and enthroned the Prince of Chenliu as Emperor Xian.
Jojo flew into a rage upon hearing it.
"The traitor's finally crossed the line! He's a public enemy now—we've got every justification to take his head!"
More reports followed. The most striking were the appointments: Dong Zhuo pardoned the fleeing Yuan Shao and named him Governor of Bohai, then showered Qingliu faction officials with administrator and governor posts.
'As if those men would turn for that.'
Dong Zhuo no doubt saw it as appeasement, but to me, knowing history, it was a glaring blunder. Most of those appointees would join the anti-Dong coalition.
I kept tabs on key figures too—Gongsun Zan, Liu Yu, Liu Dai, Liu Biao, Bao Xin, Sun Jian, Yuan Shu. With Yuan Shao in Jizhou, I even exchanged letters via Jojo's name.
That Han Fu has no intent to strike Dong Zhuo—he's just guarding his own rice bowl. Utterly pathetic.
Yuan Shao complained in a letter about Han Fu, the new Jizhou Inspector, constantly checking him. We replied that the day of uprising was near—just endure a bit longer.
Meanwhile, Jojo and I drafted a proclamation for the coalition. My literary skills barely rose above the amateur, so he wrote it all; I merely suggested a few tweaks.
"...The people groan in the mud and coals of suffering..."
"Wouldn't hardships be simpler than do-tan?"
"Do-tan evokes the agony of mire and burning charcoals. Hardships just means tough and painful—it lacks that desperation. For conveying the people's torment vividly, do-tan is superior."
Truth be told, I couldn't even tweak properly. With Jojo's fame as a literary master and me versed only in histories, what could I do?
In spare moments, I gripped a sword in a corner of the training grounds. Heading to battle soon, I couldn't rely solely on the bow. I skipped the spear, since I wouldn't charge on horseback.
As I clumsily swung the wooden sword, sweating buckets, Hahou Don approached, chuckling at my awkward form.
"Thought you were just a desk jockey—didn't know you could handle real sweat."
"I can't match your valor on the field, Commander, but I've got to protect my own neck. Bows are useless up close."
He nodded, intrigued by my reply.
"Good attitude. Want me to teach you a few moves?"
"I'd gladly learn even one."
Hahou Don showed me basics: parrying attacks and striking openings. Unfamiliar with blades as I was, I fumbled the fundamentals repeatedly. Fortunately, his corrections kept bad habits at bay.
After practicing till my muscles screamed, I returned to find two letters on my desk—one from Father, one from Wife.
I opened Father's first. It began with worries for my safety.
'Not worrying would be the odd thing.'
Mengjin ablaze, imperial palace aflame—a single letter hardly reassured.
Next came news that militia upkeep exceeded income, eroding the family fortune. Three years of training, and only now the drain? Astonishing it had lasted this long.
It ended urging ties with notables but shunning factional strife.
'That, I can't promise, Father.'
Knowing I couldn't oblige, I folded it with a wry smile. Then Wife's letter, carrying her familiar scent. A brief note on Hyeon:
Three days ago, Hyeon called me "Daddy." Five days later than for you, Mother.
A short line, but it lifted the corners of my mouth. Muscles aching, fingers trembling, I took up the brush to write two replies—the characters came out neat enough.
Jojo's militia preparations neared completion. He ordered generals to take troops and mop up bandit gangs. Armies drilled without combat crumbled in their first fight. Bandit hunts would temper them and cut desertions.
The militias swept bandits near Yezhou; with administrator and governor approval, there was no friction. Paired with official troops, Luoyang—over a thousand li away—couldn't tell militia from regulars.
I sent a servant with a letter home: prepare now, as we'd march soon. My men had battle experience aplenty—no need for hasty drills. But would Xuzhou Inspector Tao Qian release them willingly? I pondered a clean solution.
The waning moon waxed full in a flash. The proclamation reached Chohyeon.
[...]
— Sealed by Emperor Xian —
Whether Emperor Xian truly penned it or it was forged, history didn't record. But routed through Hebei and Central Plains notables, the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition was already surfacing.
Jojo and I read it through, then he asked,
"Just as we expected. Your thoughts?"
"First, send word via Bohai Governor accepting the coalition, with your proclamation. No one can block your entry then."
Normally, our meager 6,000 militia paled against others' 10,000 regulars. But leveraging ties to alliance-likely Yuan Shao and a polished proclamation eased joining.
"I'll return to Xuzhou, check the militia, join you later. And secure provisions from the Inspector."
"Provisions? Tao Qian won't hand them over easily."
"Exactly—so I'm preparing carefully. The coalition forms just before year's end; we'll join before then."
His dimmed vigor hadn't erased his talents. For my bluff to work, his judgment must endure—now was prime opportunity. Promise shares of the graft to sycophants around him, and Tao Qian, dazzled by flatterers, would preen.