Return to Chengdu

The Battle of Dangqu was a victory beyond all measure. Cao Cao's scheme to send Zhang He and smother Liu Bei's rising momentum had come to nothing, and the triumph became the occasion that proclaimed Liu Bei's name anew—a name that had wavered, if only slightly, beneath the losses of the Yiyang standoff.

Even if word of the victory at Dangqu had arrived in time, the partition of Jingzhou was an event that could not have been avoided. To stand against both Cao Cao and Sun Quan at once was little different from suicide. Still, the negotiations might at least have been conducted on somewhat better terms.

Liu Bei might find it regrettable. I, on the contrary, was relieved.

I had twisted the tributaries of history, yet I did not believe I had yet laid a hand upon the main current. The reason was simple. I meant to hold the future I knew in reserve for as long as I could, and spend it at the most dramatic moment possible.

I had saved Pang Tong and taken Yizhou swiftly, but I had known from the beginning that the instant Yizhou fell, Sun Quan would come charging in to foul the play. I had the answer sheet of original history to cheat from.

So long as the Yiyang standoff unfolded as it had in that history, the three-sided struggle of Wei, Shu, and Wu over Jingzhou was likely to continue in the same shape. If only the timing of the contest for Hanzhong could be made to match, that moment would surely come.

The inundation of Xiangfan. A chance that comes once in a thousand years.

The prime of Guan Yu's life, and the highest point Shu-Han would ever reach. The instant that shook all of Huaxia.

Of course, that was still a story with a good deal of time left in it.

In any case, once Liu Bei had returned to Yizhou and heard that the Battle of Dangqu was over, he made straight for Chengdu. There he dispensed rewards for the merits won in the battle, and my father and I had come up to the city after a long absence to attend the reckoning.

There was no change in rank.

I had earned merit by taking the deputy commander Dai Ling, but the true protagonist of Dangqu was my father through and through. His rank remained as it was as well. He had already received the highest grade the Office of the Left General could confer, and it could be raised no further.

To elevate my own grade would have set me in the same file as my father, a merit-holder of the first order. Better, then, to settle the matter in goods.

Rank would rise later, once Liu Bei became King of Hanzhong or emperor, this merit included with the rest. There was no cause to complain now, nor anything to begrudge.

I gave instructions to Ma Zhong, who had come up to Chengdu with me, on how the rewards were to be used.

"Dexin, consult with the colonels and divide the silk among the soldiers."

"All of it?"

"Yes. If it truly isn't enough, say so, and I'll supply more. As for the coin, use it to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠support the families of the dead and the wounded."

"Our casualties weren't heavy, so even after a generous distribution there ought to be money left over."

"Then share what's left with the soldiers."

A reward given to a commander was never meant to be pocketed whole. The understanding was that it would be portioned out to the troops as the commander saw fit.

Even Dong Zhuo, they said, had not been stingy about dividing prize money and spoils among his men. To swallow the lot alone would be the madder course by far.

"Baizhan, will you take the gold and silver and buy us some warhorses?"

Ma Dai, born of the Ma clan that had once been a warlord house of Xiliang, still had connections there.

But we had not even secured Hanzhong, and buying horses out of Xiliang under those circumstances was no ordinary difficulty. The cost of transport might well exceed the price of the horses themselves.

"I'll do everything I can."

Ma Dai knew it too. Unlike his usual self, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there was no confidence in his voice. If one could not pass through Hanzhong, the road to Xiliang had to go by way of Wudu.

That Wudu also lay within Cao Cao's sphere was the lesser problem. The road itself was absurdly savage—the very Wudu–Yinping route that Deng Ai, king of the mountains, had crossed.

Even if a trade route could somehow be opened, a problem would remain. Trade between regions went on even across rival spheres of influence, but horses were military matériel. Whether they could be taken out at all was an open question.

"If Xiliang proves too difficult, the west and the south are worth trying as well. They say horses come out of those parts too."

That was Liu Yin.

Set beside the Qiang of Xiliang, both quality and quantity fell short, but the Man peoples of the south and the Di of the west raised horses as well. After Zhuge Liang subdued the southern Man, he had in fact kept the horses produced in Nanzhong under a separate administration of their own.

"Good. If Xiliang won't do, we'll look that way too."

Once every use of the reward had been settled, Ma Dai and Ma Zhong withdrew to carry out what each had been charged with.

"We should be moving as well."

"I'll attend you."

There was a reason I had brought to Chengdu not only Ma Zhong, the Army-Marching Major who assisted me in military affairs, and Ma Dai, whom I had set to securing horses, but Liu Yin as well. It lay in a meeting Liu Yin and I had spoken of back when we set out for Baxi.

Liu Yin's close friend, Du Zheng, had arranged an introduction to Pu Yuan, the legendary smith of Shu-Han.

"Ah—did you say Master Du Zheng would be coming out as well?"

Du Zheng was serving in Chengdu as an attendant officer. At my question, Liu Yin nodded.

"Yes. He said he would guide us himself."

"I'm looking forward to it. He's joined a precious connection for me. I ought to prepare a gift."

"You needn't go so far."

According to Liu Yin, when I told Liu Bei of the matter concerning him, Liu Bei grew interested and sought Du Zheng out. Du Zheng, already a promising talent of the Shu army, caught his eye at once. He was promoted into an important post, and the road of office opened wide before him.

"That was given by our lord, not by me. How could I let it stand in place of a gift?"

Du Zheng was a civil official. Something for the writing desk would suit him.

Thanks to my father, who delighted in calligraphy, the house held a fair number of fine things. I had only to choose, from among those not yet used, one that looked decent enough.

Yet when we actually met, Du Zheng declined my gift with perfect courtesy.

"I have already received so much that I would be ashamed to accept a gift."

"What are you saying? I've done nothing for you."

"You speak of the meeting with Master Pu Yuan as a favor, but for me it is the meeting with our lord that is the favor. Even if you never intended it, the benefit came to me all the same. How could I say otherwise?"

He was putting a value on an externality. Truly, all I had done was next to nothing. Thinking so, I pressed the gift on him again and again, but Du Zheng would not take it to the end.

Even then, the look on his face said he feared I might take the refusal amiss, and I couldn't help a short laugh. Who would grow angry over a thing like this? If anything, a man this clean in his conduct deserved to be treated all the better.

Just as I was about to draw my hand back, Du Zheng spoke, hesitant.

"It hardly deserves to be called a substitute, but may I recommend someone to you?"

"A recommendation?"

"Yes. It is in no way for my private gain. I have heard that you prefer to employ younger men. In Qianwei Commandery there is a friend of the same age as Xiuyan and myself. His virtue and learning run deep. He will surely be of help to you."

Whether I made use of a man who was recommended was mine to decide, and even if I did, what great office was I likely to give him? Anyone could see, without Du Zheng needing to say it, that this was not for private profit.

If Du Zheng—who kept company with men such as Liu Yin and Pu Yuan—was offering a recommendation with his own mouth, I was more than glad to hear it.

"Will that do? I suspect I'll only be receiving another favor."

"If it becomes a chance for a dear friend to rise, how could it not be a favor returned?"

"Then let us do it that way."

"Thank you. First you should meet Master Pu. I'll speak of the recommendation afterward."

We had a prior appointment with Pu Yuan, so putting the rest off was only right. I agreed and followed him.

Zhuge Liang, who oversaw the whole administration of Yizhou, was making ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vigorous use of the outstanding craftsman Pu Yuan, and at present Pu Yuan was a busy man. The time he could spare for me amounted to only a moment.

They said even this meeting would not have been easy had I not distinguished myself at Dangqu. Well. If I played the eldest-uncle card...

"I have long heard of your fame."

"Ah—Master Pu Yuan?"

My thoughts had run on too long. I gathered myself at once. I could hardly be rude from the very first greeting.

"Yes. I am the smith called Pu Yuan."

From his appearance alone, Pu Yuan was the very image of an artisan who had walked a single road all his life.

As befitted a man whose work was to face the fire, his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠skin was burned black, his wrinkles were cut deep and rough, and his forearms were thick and solid. He was the emblem of a swordsmith who had given his whole life to iron.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Zhang Lan, General of Glorious Might."

"You wished to see me?"

Pu Yuan set ceremony aside and came straight to the point. It suited a man who worked where fire and iron were handled, and where no one could say what accident might strike. Words and manners that others might have taken for rudeness, I answered at my ease.

"I've seen the zhanmadao you made for Xiuyan. A magnificent blade."

"Xiuyan? Ah—you mean Wenlie's friend."

Pu Yuan looked past me to Liu Yin—or, more precisely, to the horse-cleaving saber slung across his back. He nodded, as if calling up the past in which he had forged it.

"Then have you come to commission a weapon as well, General?"

"I'd be lying if I said I had no such wish. But that isn't my true purpose."

"And what is that?"

I called up what I had kept in mind from the very moment I resolved to live through the age of the Three Kingdoms.

In the end, cavalry was indispensable if one meant to take the Central Plains. And even before that, a truly fine cavalry arm would widen the range of choices enormously.

But in this age a cavalry force was, quite literally, the elite of the elite, and raising one in a short span of time was next to impossible. Should I give up, then? No. Human beings are creatures who always find an answer.

And I held the answer sheet the future had already found.

The method of raising a cavalry arm in a short time.

It was this.

"Have you ever heard of something called a stirrup?"

The stirrup.