Snowy Reflections and Divided Paths
On the eleventh day of the twelfth lunar month in the second year of Zhongping (185 AD), the sky unfurled a silver veil of clouds. Sunlight poured through the ragged gaps, shattering into fine shards against the snow-sculpted Baekseong. People cursed the early snow with stinging eyes, far harsher than in previous years. The world, cloaked in monochrome, felt as barren as it looked.
I sipped tea, admiring the wintry landscape it had birthed. Marriage hadn't pushed the chaos of the era any further away. Wang Fen had attempted to depose the Emperor and failed, ending in suicide. Hansu had rebelled in the west, and Dong Tak made his name crushing him. The thought of that bastard later ruining the realm left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"What deep thoughts have you lost yourself in?"
As I sat in the courtyard, chin propped on my hand, my wife approached and asked. Amid the white-drenched world, her sole splash of color was breathtaking.
"Just scattered thoughts. Nothing to worry about."
"The wind is cold. Come inside to ponder."
My head had cooled enough; no need for more chilly air. Catching a cold would be trouble, so I went in with her.
"Again today?"
"I got cold outside."
I reviewed the ledgers while embracing her from behind—a feat possible because my head towered over hers.
"What if others see?"
"We're husband and wife. Who cares what they think?"
Since marrying, I'd showered her with affection. She startled at every hug or hand-hold, but sensing my genuine fondness, she never refused.
"Myeong-ah, are you inside?"
—Crash! The real issue was panicking whenever someone visited. I quickly straightened my robes and stepped out.
"What is it, brother?"
"Father's calling. Finish up and come."
I tidied the room briefly and emerged—without forgetting a kiss for my wife. Her face flushed beet-red, utterly adorable.
"Let's go, brother."
"Yes... you two look quite harmonious."
I played it cool without answering. It was a bit embarrassing to admit.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Yes. Come in."
Father began with light questions to Jang Chong.
"Chong-ah, how did leading the caravan feel?"
"It was tough, but manageable."
With Father busy preparing my wedding, brother had handled the caravan alone this autumn. If he found it doable, Father's training had paid off.
"Good."
After small talk, Father cut to the chase.
"We'll split the caravan into two."
Sudden, but not unexpected.
"Yes, we'll do that."
"As you wish."
Brother and I agreed instantly. One caravan couldn't cover it all without relay speeds. To leverage and maintain our new networks, splitting was essential. We knew it well.
"I'll handle the new clients. You, as eldest, take the existing ones."
"Understood."
"Jang Myeong, keep the ledgers as before. More work, but I trust you can handle it."
"No issues on my end."
With escorts bolstered, carts and oxen ready, all was set.
On the twelfth day of the third lunar month in the third year of Zhongping (186 AD), winter thawed. Stream ice melted with cheerful gurgles. Refugees who survived the freeze trickled back to villages on spring winds.
"Who are all those people?"
My youngest brother, tagging along to check compost, pointed at them and asked.
Refugees dragged their gaunt, barely-alive frames.
"People wandering to survive."
"Can't we help them? We have plenty of food."
At just eight, such innocence was natural. Plenty of them, plenty of our grain—simple as that.
"A life we can't afford."
Instead of long explanations, I ignored him. He tugged my sleeve, throwing a tantrum.
"Why! Tell me!"
"Young master, please don't."
"Take him home."
I signaled the servant, who carried him off amid protests. Once the distraction vanished, I asked,
"Second batch of compost ready?"
Reformulated based on the first trial. Really just final checks, as maturation was confirmed.
"All set."
"Good. We'll vary the application rate too."
"Got it."
I roughly knew dosages from my past life, but verification was needed for my custom mix.
Back home, the rambunctious youngest was absent. Mother said he'd shut himself in.
"You soothe him."
"Mother should—"
She shoved me into his room and shut the door. Impeccable timing before I could protest.
—Thud!
He huddled under blankets in the corner, sniffling. As I approached, a sharp voice pierced from within.
"Go away."
He'd recognized my steps. Ignoring the sulk, I stroked the blanket.
"I have compassion too, little brother. But family comes first. I can't risk us for strangers."
"Mencius spoke of impartial love, without distinctions."
He couldn't grasp it, launching debate. Despite my aversion to scholarship, I'd read the classics cover-to-cover. He was no match. Still, to placate him, I humored the exchange.
"If the world followed Mencius, no refugees. But I have one cup of water—priorities, even if lowly."
"A true gentleman practices benevolence without distinguishing kin from others."
"I'm no gentleman, nor aspire to be. Pointless."
His learning was solid, but my rhetoric prevailed. To avoid more sulking, I added,
"Keep that heart. When the realm rights itself, you won't need my coward's excuses."
I pulled back the blanket, ruffling his hair. He didn't swat my hand away.
On the twenty-seventh day of the fourth lunar month in the third year of Zhongping (186 AD), with Father and brother still away, I visited Jojo in Yezhou Paeguk. We'd exchanged letters, but this was my first trip to the Jo household. Luckily, he'd quit as Jeonam-sang of Qing Province and was home—no door slammed in my face.
He greeted me at the gate, leading to the guest chamber.
"Long time, Jang So-myeong. Grown a full man's frame already?"
"Not yet. But taller, yes."
He joked; I quipped back about height. Both short at seven chi, it was pot-calling-kettle.
"Preparations for the great cause progressing?"
"Just breaking ground."
Jojo glanced my way, muttering,
"I see. When's the right moment for the undertaking?"
"What undertaking?"
I probed instead of jumping in. Yangsu was the obvious answer.
"The Ten Eunuchs. Essential for your great cause."
He called restoring the shaky court his "great cause"—an impossible dream.
'Not feasible.' I rolled the refusal in my mouth. Hejin or Yuan Shao's incompetence was beyond us.
"They still hold the Emperor, so legitimacy's theirs. Wait for a rift, then strike. Keep it small to avoid leaks."
I hinted at current impossibility. Jojo's eyes widened.
"Can you read minds?"
"Stars a bit, not minds."
"Felt like you peered into mine."
"Anyone following court knows."
He stroked his chin, pondering as my tea went cold.
"No interest in office?"
Unexpected offer. I calculated pros-cons swiftly.
"Same as rejecting Left Commander of the Guards. No intent now."
"Thought you feared soldiering after puking on first battlefield."
Not wrong. Civil posts avoided gore.
"Even civil: same answer. Politics demands watching backs—I lack the guts."
"You, bowman in battle, talk guts?"
"Battle: eyes front. Politics: everywhere. Chaotic court exceeds my backgroundless skills."
Mentioning lineage silenced him. Without Cao lineage, he'd have died avenging Uncle Gyeonseok.
"Court's unripe fruit. Pursue, risk eunuch-puppet stigma. Better confide with allies till called."
I skipped raising militia—perfect pretext for eunuch purge.
"I'll heed that."
I planned quick return, but he stalled me.
No rush, so I nursed cold tea.
"Greetings?"
After a while, a newcomer entered. Early middle-aged, refined yet sharply edged.
"Father speaks highly. Good with bow, I hear."
Clue hit: Jo clan, younger than me, Father's acquaintance—one match.
"Grandson of the Grand Commandant?"
"Yes. Call me Jasu comfortably."
As expected, Jo Ang. I bowed properly.
"Jang Myeong, Jasu-gong. Use Somyeong."
"Father said no courtesy name—recently acquired?"
"Yes. None when Jo-gong and I met at Yeongcheon."
Jojo had shared much; he knew that detail.
"Where's your father? He said wait, but..."
"Urgent matter; I'm standing in."
Instinct screamed setup for bonding. No gain exposing lie; ties with Jo Ang benefited me. I let it slide.
"Tell me how one arrow felled Peng Qiao."
He eyed my Yeongcheon exploits. Bored waiting, I obliged.
"Truly a master archer."
His gaze held no flattery—unlike Jojo's killer stare. As past life guessed, perfect successor.
After half a shichen chatting, I headed home. Jojo waving from the gate was touching.