The Negotiation
The savage contest raging in the south, all along the Jiangling front, reached Xiangfan almost by the hour, with scarcely a day between one report and the next.
Hold Xiangfan as we might, if Nanjun fell to Sun Quan we would be caught between him and Cao Cao, and in the end we would have no choice but to spit Xiangfan back out. So both our state and Wei watched Sun Quan's movements more closely than we watched each other.
Not that we sat with folded hands and merely enjoyed the spectacle. Whenever Cao Cao tried to ease troops forward and ring Fan Castle, we sent a detachment down the four channels with the Han River navy, making it plain that a counterstroke was still within reach and loosening his grip; we dispatched reinforcements as well, to meet Jiang Qin, the Wu general pressing Qingni. Nerves drawn tight, we were facing Cao Cao and Sun Quan both.
While Sun Quan came down like a flood from heaven and took Gong'an, Jiangling, Yidao, and Zhijiang one after another, the mood in our camp was thoroughly unsettled. Cao Cao and Jiang Qin, by contrast, ran wild as if their hour had come. But that was finished now.
"Glad tidings! Strategist-General Pang has recovered Gong'an! Quartermaster Pan has retaken Jiangling Castle as well!"
The messenger's voice was bright with excitement, and no wonder. For days the word had been nothing but this place fallen, that man beaten — and now we were striking back clean and hard. How could he not be glad?
"Shiyuan indeed." Guan Yu smiled with satisfaction and drew a hand down his beard.
"Shengming planned the stratagem with him. His merit is no small thing."
"Hmph."
The moment I spoke up for Pan Jun, Guan Yu's face soured. There had long been bad blood between them; a great achievement of Pan Jun's could hardly have been pure pleasure. I held his gaze, and at last he spoke as a man with no choice left.
"Very well. You are right. I rebuked him for neglecting his duties as quartermaster, yet it was a bitter stratagem laid for this very day. I will grant that I undervalued him."
Even so, he added a rider.
"But unlike Shiyuan — and unlike you — both of whom His Majesty has recognized as standing in your own right, Quartermaster Pan is my subordinate. To hide a scheme from one's superior was wrong."
Perhaps the air of opposition between us over Pan Jun made those nearby uneasy. Guan Ping slipped in with his easy, good-natured smile.
"Come now, why spoil such good news? Both of you, calm yourselves. You are senior generals of the King of Hanzhong, bearers of the axe of command. Rather than debate who deserves the credit, tell us how our army ought to move from here."
"Ha — did it look that way? What quarrel could I have with Zhang Zhenbei? We were only trading private views. Don't trouble yourself over it."
He was right. This was hardly a quarrel. And Guan Ping was right as well: the question of how to treat Pan Jun could wait. What mattered now was the task in front of us.
"The time has come to draw Cao Cao to the table."
"Indeed. Hear me, generals. Feed the men their fill, spread this news, and let them cheer. And tell the navy to stand ready to put out at any moment."
The order was a declaration: we would trust the rear and hold to the will to fight on. In truth, dragging this stalemate out with Wei was a burden for us as well. Supply was unsteady because of the chaos behind the lines, and the soldiers' strength was wearing down under constant battle. News of victory would mend morale, but ill winds still lay scattered on every side.
Guan Yu went a step further still, putting about the rumor that he meant to put prisoners such as Cao Ren and Man Chong to death and steel the army for a fight to the last. If Cao Cao answered in kind — all or nothing, let us die together — then whether we could truly hold Xiangfan was no longer something we could promise.
Even so, there were three reasons he could press so hard. If Fan Castle were lost, we could fall back on Xiangyang and, with our navy's command of the Han, mount a second resistance. Even if all of Xiangfan fell, a line of retreat remained toward Shangyong. And last of all, we would not be the only ones to pay.
If Cao Cao threw himself at recovering Xiangfan, then however badly we were hurt we would lose at most a scrap of Jing Province that was not even half the whole. Cao Cao would not be so fortunate. In exchange for Xiangfan, he might lose everything he had built.
"They say the rising in Ye has been put down."
Wei Feng's rebellion, which had broken out in the original history, had unfolded this time as well, without fail. Was it because our prestige stood even higher than in that history? Unlike the first course of events, where the plot had come apart before it began because a conspirator turned, Wei Feng had succeeded in raising troops exactly as he planned.
But if he had misjudged anything, it was this: it was still too soon to bring Cao Cao's regime down. Before Cao Pi made a wreck of things, Wei in Cao Cao's lifetime — however deep it sank in defeat — still had strength left in it. The able, loyal founding ministers who had raised Wei's foundations at his side were still very much alive, eyes wide open. Jia Xu, Hua Xin, Zhong Yao… Against their stronghold, Wei Feng's hot blood was far too light.
"But it is a signal."
"As you say. It is clear proof that Cao Cao's regime is beginning to shake."
That overwhelming vigor, and the thorough grip with which he held power, had begun to waver. And this small crack would widen swiftly while he was away from the Central Plains, pinned at Xiangfan, until at last it split the great wall called Wei.
Cao Cao himself could hardly fail to know it. A man of his innate political genius would see, better than anyone, that the empire which looked so strong on the outside was rotting slowly from within — and he would know the most efficient remedy.
Barely a day after we staged our show of force, half bluff and half in earnest, an envoy appeared from Cao Cao's camp flying a white flag. It was a symbolic moment. The positions had reversed. In the talks for a truce, we now held the upper hand, and Cao Cao was the one who had to come asking.
"I am Zhang Ji, Colonel of the Army."
"Spare the pleasantries. Deliver your message."
"The King of Wei desires a conference with the general."
Looking down at the envoy, Guan Yu stroked his beard at his leisure. Sun Quan, the hidden piece, had failed to play his part, and Guan Yu had noticed that it was Cao Cao, not we, who was growing anxious.
"Say it again. A conference, or a negotiation? Choose your words with care. My answer will change according to what comes out of your mouth."
Beads of sweat ran down Zhang Ji's brow. Was the war-god presence Guan Yu gave off too much even for one of Cao Cao's close men? Or did he simply feel how badly his master's position had worsened, and take that as a grave threat to himself? Cold sweat or not, he answered without losing his composure.
"A negotiation."
"Go on."
"His Majesty the King of Wei proposes that we hold talks at Yancheng, to end this profitless war."
Yancheng had originally been ours, but as we concentrated our strength on Fan Castle it had passed into Cao Cao's hands. Guan Yu's answer was blunt.
"No."
"…Why? Do you not trust His Majesty the King of Wei? Have you forgotten? When you departed to meet Liu Xuande, His Majesty kept his word!"
"I know. I remember it well. And still — no."
"Then tell me the reason."
"Because this is a great matter of the state."
I clenched my teeth to keep from laughing. I knew why he had said it. We could not be seen to bend and comply when we held the advantage; it was a contest of image. And yet that line — how to put it — sounded less like something Guan Yu would say, and more like something one expected to hear from the other side.
Nor was he finished.
"…I will convey it so."
Guan Yu's terms were accepted at once. When Zhang Ji returned to report that Cao Cao had agreed — and went so far as to name when the withdrawal would begin, and the date of the talks — the urgency of Wei was plain in him. It did not take long for the Wei troops ringing Fan Castle to vanish from sight.
As soon as the scouts sent through the four channels confirmed that the enemy had fallen back to Yanglingpi, a little north of Yancheng, Guan Yu dressed in formal robes and cap and made ready to depart. As Cao Cao had kept his word, so did Guan Yu. A secret rush on Yancheng to kill him did not seem to be in Guan Yu's mind, nor was it in mine. However much Cao Cao was a traitor in our eyes, so mean a method would not only stain our great cause; it would likely hand a wavering Wei court a pretext to close ranks. A bad move.
"Lan'er. Are you prepared in your heart?"
Before the walls of Yancheng, Guan Yu put the question to me. I had fought Cao Cao in Hanzhong, yet I had never met him face to face. This would be the first time I laid eyes on him.
"Yes. I am."
Had there been a day, in all my life as Zhang Lan, when I was this tense? If I had to name one, it was ten years ago, when I first stood before the three brothers and Zhuge Liang. But between the nine-year-old Zhang Lan who knew nothing of the world and the nineteen-year-old who had been through fire and water and become a general fit to command the realm, the gap was vast. Thinking of it, today was surely the most trembling moment of this life.
We passed through Yancheng's open gates and entered the official residence. Unlike the emptiness outside, the Wei soldiers left to guard Cao Cao stood within in five ranks, giving off the air of a picked force. And beyond the residence doors, thrown wide — seated upon the dais, looking at us — there he was.
Cao Cao.