Chapter 6: Laying the Foundations (3)
After securing conditional permission from Gongsun Zan, Liu Bei's group set off without delay for the territory now under their command. On the vast map of the continent, it was little more than a tiny dot the size of a fingernail. Compared to the splendid domains of the hegemonic warlords who commanded the realm, it was a pitiful patch of land. But Liu Bei's eyes, gazing from horseback at the distant silhouette of the fortress walls shimmering on the horizon, burned with a resolve utterly different from before.
A wandering righteous swordsman with nothing to his name was worlds apart from a man who, however small his domain, had a place to plant his banner. Kang Minju—now inhabiting the body of Zhang Fei—understood that subtle yet monumental difference better than anyone. Even in modern society, the weight of owning so much as a single room to call your own was immense. In these chaotic times, securing a single fortress meant far more than acquiring real estate; it was the foundation for survival and ascent.
As they reached the gates, a handful of soldiers who had arrived ahead to prepare scattered dust clouds in their haste, rushing out to drop to their knees.
"Lord Liu, you've arrived!"
The title "Lord Liu" spilling from the soldiers' mouths still felt foreign to his ears—and far weightier than before.
Liu Bei dismounted slowly, scanning the weathered walls and surrounding village. The battlements were eroded by years of wind and rain, crumbling in places, while the watchtowers' timbers looked rotten and precarious from the elements. The homes inside were ramshackle, and the streets pockmarked with potholes where murky water stagnated.
Coldly put:
'It's worse than I expected.'
But Minju actually preferred the raw, unpolished state.
'Perfect. A place like this, managed right, turns into a goldmine.'
A land too perfectly groomed from the start resisted imprinting your own color. It had to be rough and empty to transform with every touch—like a blank canvas before a painter. Already, Minju's mind brimmed with modern blueprints for fortifying the stronghold and reviving the economy.
Guan Yu narrowed his phoenix eyes, sweeping the surroundings before murmuring gravely.
"We'll need a major overhaul on defenses. The gates are like paper, and the soldiers' movements are a mess."
"Yes, brother."
Minju nodded, picking up the thread.
"But it's not so bad. At least we can rally men, stockpile grain... and above all, put on a minimal show of face for our precious guest."
Liu Bei turned to Minju, murmuring softly.
"An external guest... you mean Lu Bu, don't you."
Minju smiled faintly in lieu of an answer.
Lu Bu. A name that clashed wildly with this shabby little outpost. Too immense, too savage—a storm too perilous to handle. But that's precisely why this place was essential. The proposal for Lu Bu could now shift in quality from before. What had been a vague "join us" invitation became a concrete "we've prepared your spot here—let's play the board together."
The difference between enticement and invitation. It was a matter of who held the reins.
Liu Bei called out to his two brothers.
"Alright, let's go! We've got work ahead starting today!"
"Yes, brother!"
As the sun dipped low, Liu Bei sat across from his brothers in a makeshift chamber within the command post. On the table lay a crudely sketched local terrain map, troop deployment charts, and a few dusty ledgers still shedding flakes of grime. Outside, the sounds of soldiers tending stables and inspecting granary stocks drifted in like faint background noise.
Guan Yu fiddled with the candle flame, breaking the silence first.
"Now then, Yide. Tell us—what exactly do you plan to put in the formal letter to Lu Bu?"
Minju drummed his fingers rhythmically on the table, organizing his thoughts.
"The core is three points."
Liu Bei and Guan Yu's gazes fixed on him.
Minju folded one finger.
"First: We're no longer fugitives. We're announcing we've gained an independent base, however small, to operate our own troops and supplies."
He folded the second.
"Second: Brother, you're a legitimate force tied to Gongsun Zan. Joining us means Lu Bu enters the formal order among the warlords—not some nameless bandit crew."
His eyes flashed as he folded the last.
"Third—and most crucial: We'll safeguard the lady Diaochan he treasures most securely, while carving out a new battlefield for his blade."
Guan Yu stroked his beard, eyes narrowing.
"The third will hook him deepest. That man's obsessed with his woman and proving his might."
"Exactly."
Minju showed no hesitation.
"Frankly, Lu Bu isn't some paragon swayed by grand ideals alone. Even talk of the realm boils down to his people, his face, and a tangible spot for his sword. We quench that thirst."
Liu Bei toyed with his brush, asking quietly.
"Then must I write it myself?"
"Yes, brother must. Your elegant script and sincerity will pierce his suspicions. But... I'll draft it first."
Guan Yu snorted a laugh.
"A draft from you? I'm almost scared already. Not a threat letter, I hope?"
"People move more when offered clear retreat and irresistible justification together, rather than honeyed words alone, right?"
Minju countered calmly.
"Especially a brute like Lu Bu, all brawn and paranoia."
Liu Bei pondered briefly, then nodded.
"Very well, Yide. Recite what you have in mind."
"Thank you, brother."
Granted leave, Minju took up the brush. The first character descended slowly onto the white silk.
Then he paused, brush hovering.
'Wait—did I always know Hanja this well?'
Perhaps another perk of possessing Zhang Fei's body.
To one like Lu Bu, you couldn't grovel too low or preach from on high. It demanded a tightrope walk: stroking his bloated ego without diluting the proposal's gravity.
Minju bit his lip and wrote on.
Guan Yu, peeking over, muttered.
"Too blunt."
"It suits Lu Bu, brother. Circling around makes him suspicious—'What's their angle?' Straight talk eases him too."
Minju resumed writing. Guan Yu held his peace, acknowledging the insight's sharpness.
Minju poured the most effort into the closing line. Sweat beaded on his brow as he set the brush down. Silence filled the room.
Guan Yu, who had watched this rare drafting unfold, reread the text slowly. The initially rough phrases gained a strange persuasiveness. It scratched both Lu Bu's pride and his practical woes—a masterstroke of negotiation from Minju.
Guan Yu crossed his arms, speaking heavily.
"Not bad."
A brief pause, then:
"No—quite excellent. Makes me wonder if you were a scribe in a past life. When did you hide this skill?"
Minju shrugged, a touch embarrassed.
Meanwhile, Liu Bei, having reviewed it all, nodded in deep satisfaction.
"The letter's done. But who delivers it?"
Minju's face turned serious.
"Not just anyone, brother."
"Why?"
"Who carries it reveals their sincerity."
In other words, no random envoy.
He had someone in mind.
Guan Yu stared pointedly.
"Don't tell me—you're going."
Minju grinned, gripping his Zhangba Snake Spear tight.
"Yes. Exactly."
He had planned this himself, so he alone could handle the key role.
"I'll fetch that tiger. Brother, govern Pingyuan in the meantime and prepare a feast for his welcome."
Liu Bei and Guan Yu nodded gravely at Minju's declaration of departure.