Reorganization (2)
There once lived a loyal servant of the Han who had been stripped of his offices and robbed of his fief by the Ten Attendants.
That servant was a general so famous that there was no soul in all the Han who did not know his name.
But just as had happened to Lu Zhi and Wang Yun before him, he had locked horns with the eunuchs while exposing their corruption, and Emperor Ling — who had taken the eunuchs' side — threw him out.
That his long record of merits had at least spared him from the executioner's blade was the one consolation he could cling to.
Then came an imperial edict from the throne, urging the indomitable old general who had, in effect, brought the Yellow Turban Rebellion to its end to return to office and devote his remaining strength to the people — and the old man threw back his head and laughed.
"He really is a most interesting fellow."
"……"
"Yes. Now I understand why the eyes of Peerless Under Heaven gleamed so hungrily, back at Julu."
The hair that had once shown threads of gray was now bone-white from crown to temple, yet not even the passage of all those years could rob the old man of his brilliance.
He lifted his head and addressed the adjutant who stood watching him.
"Yan Zhong. What say you? Does the Han still look like a dynasty on its deathbed to you?"
"……"
He was a man who had spent his entire life at the old general's side — the very officer who had once declared the Han beyond saving and urged the general he served to seize Luoyang by force and found a new dynasty in its place.
True, he had since been betrayed by the very Emperor to whom he had pledged his loyalty, and the years had slipped by with everything stripped from him. But that old man had possessed, beyond any doubt, the ability to see that ambition through.
"Can it truly be...? Is the Han really going to rise from the dead?"
"So it would seem."
"General. You could yet be cast aside by the court all over again."
At the worry thick in those words, the old man roared with laughter.
"Even so, it's all the same to me."
"General!"
When his old adjutant Yan Zhong cried out, choked with indignation, the old man moved to soothe him.
"Now, now — hear the fellow out before you judge. You're near as old as I am, and still that voice of yours rings out like a war drum."
"……"
Only once Yan Zhong had settled did the old man speak again, slowly this time.
"Somehow, I don't believe this court means to betray me."
"……"
"The instincts of an old man who's lived his fill — you can bank on them! Ah, wait... but you're old enough to know better than to bank on anything from an old man, eh?"
To the old man, still cackling and spouting his usual nonsense, Yan Zhong replied,
"Whew... Then I, too, shall follow you, General."
"Haha! Now that puts my heart at ease!"
"And since it's come to this, I really ought to bring along a promising young talent I've come to know of late. Two birds with one stone, as it were."
At that, the old man's face turned quizzical.
"Someone you've come to know, you say?"
"A talent quite worthy of comparison to Chen Ping himself."
Chen Ping — the great master of stratagem and statecraft whose counsel had been instrumental in helping Liu Bang found the Han dynasty.
At the sight of Yan Zhong declaring this with such confidence, a sound of admiration escaped the old man.
"Oh ho. Someone of that caliber, is he?"
"For unearthing so remarkable a talent, I dare say I've earned myself a line or two in the histories. I must admit, I'm rather pleased with myself."
"...So there was a vein of hunger for glory in you after all."
At this first glimpse of an altogether unexpected side to his aide, the old man pulled a faintly disgruntled face.
"Good grief. We're in for a dreadfully busy spell, starting tomorrow."
And yet, even as he said it, a smile was spreading across the old man's lips.
Huangfu Song, courtesy name Yizhen.
Breaking his brief silence, he walked into office the very next day with a fresh heart — and close at his heels came a procession of others, following his example into the service of the new banner.
Starting with Huangfu Song, I called back to the court every capable and upright official whom Emperor Ling and the Ten Attendants had cast out, and reinstated them one after another.
Barring those with circumstances they truly could not escape, every talent I summoned answered the call and took up office.
The infamous Ten Attendants had long since gone to their graves, and Dong Zhuo — who had schemed to cast the Emperor aside and indulge in open tyranny — had likewise breathed his last.
These were men who had never lost their devotion to the Han, and I hoped that this time would be different. I did my utmost to live up to that hope.
It was in the middle of all this that an unexpected visitor startled me half out of my skin.
I had summoned him, yes — but I never dreamed he would come striding in like this, without so much as a word of warning.
"L-Lord Lu Zhi?"
Lu Zhi, courtesy name Zigan.
A luminary of the age, renowned far and wide, who had piled up glory upon glory alongside General Huangfu Song — and he had come to see me.
"Please, spare me the ceremony. I am nothing now but an old man without a single office to his name."
Startled clean out of my wits in the middle of my work, I had moved to bow in greeting, but Lu Zhi stayed my hand.
"Office or no office — who in all the world would dare think the less of you, Lord Lu Zhi?"
I denied his words with feeling, holding his gaze.
"I saw you once before, from a distance — and you carry yourself with every bit the same majesty you did then."
My words must not have displeased him, for Lu Zhi smiled.
He really is enormous. Eight chi and two cun — 194 centimeters — in this day and age. How does a man even get that tall in this era?
And if those hands of his, each one the size of a cauldron lid, ever closed around my face, I would be flattened into paste inside of a second.
After smiling a moment, Lu Zhi opened his mouth again.
"However great this old Lu Zhi may be, how could he ever compare to the General-in-Chief who cut down the archvillain Dong Zhuo?"
"How could I possibly outshine you, Lord Lu Zhi?"
"Oh, but you do. Even I once stood against Dong Zhuo — and lost every office I held and nearly my life for it."
Ah, Dong Zhuo...
In that brief stretch when I had been racing about trying to beat Luoyang's lawless streets into order, it seemed every catastrophe under heaven had taken place at once.
What could possibly have been so urgent that he handled everything in such a hurry?
As though those days had come flooding back, Lu Zhi went on with a faraway look in his eyes.
"Had Cai Yong not risen to speak in my defense, I would have forfeited my head to Dong Zhuo then and there."
"……"
Ah, right — Cai Yong. I would do well to remember that name.
Only after this long exchange of mutual compliments had finally run its course could we get down to business.
"Lord Lu Zhi. If I may speak plainly, the reason I asked you here is that I have a single favor to request of you."
"Yes. Speak your mind."
Taking care that he take no offense, I expressed myself with all due courtesy.
"Would you grant me the honor of your aid in watching over the people?"
At over 190 centimeters, Lu Zhi looked every inch the soldier born and bred — and yet he was, in truth, a scholar whose name echoed through all the realm.
Nor was he any stranger to the command of troops; it was Lu Zhi himself who had been entrusted with the Jizhou region, Zhang Jue's own heartland, during the Yellow Turban Rebellion.
If only he would take office, my workload would shrink overnight. Which is why, right now, I had never wanted anything so badly.
While I sat there studying his face for the slightest hint of his thoughts, Lu Zhi spoke.
"Very well."
"……!"
"This body is old and worn, but if it can be of use to you, then you shall have it."
"Thank you!"
Beaming, I accepted Lu Zhi into service.
Farewell, you mountains upon mountains of paperwork!
One by one I reinstated the talents the Ten Attendants and Dong Zhuo had shoved aside, and set the administration to rights.
There were not, in truth, very many talents who had been purged by the eunuchs or by Dong Zhuo and yet still drew breath.
Wicked men, it seemed, recognized something of themselves in one another — anyone who raised a hand against them had been stamped out without mercy. That, I supposed, was why.
Think of the Yellow Turban Rebellion, and three Colonels spring to mind. Set aside the meritorious generals — Huangfu Song, Lu Zhi, Ju Jun — and every man who had dared oppose the eunuchs had been driven straight into the grave. Small wonder so few remained.
But by the same token, surviving hands like those was proof positive of a man's ability. I did not agonize over a single one of them; I threw myself into their reinstatement at full gallop.
The leeches who had fattened themselves on the Ten Attendants or Dong Zhuo, you ask? All of them had vanished in the great housecleaning of Luoyang. How they vanished, precisely, varied — each had been punished to the full measure of his crimes.
A few may have slipped through the net, but they were petty offenders at very worst. If they had any sense at all, they would make themselves scarce on their own.
The men I restored lived up to every expectation, displaying talents that proved an enormous help to the administration.
And yet these reinstated officials of mine suffered from one fatal flaw.
They were far too old.
Huangfu Song, Lu Zhi, Ju Jun — all of them had long since crossed into the twilight of life, by this era's way of counting.
There was no helping it.
To stand against the Ten Attendants or Dong Zhuo and live, a man needed towering heaps of merit — and heaping up merit meant, inevitably, growing old in the process.
The year is 187.
Remembering that every one of these men was fated to turn his back on the world around the year 190, I knew that reinstating the purged officials was, in the end, a stopgap and nothing more.
I had, at the outside, three years to dig up capable young blood.
By then, perhaps, the administration would have steadied and my burden lightened somewhat. But just as Emperor Ling — who was not meant to die until 189 — had perished in 186, there was no telling when the current of history might surge forward again.
In the very worst case, a coalition might form, and an army of several hundred thousand could come crashing down on Hulao Pass, precisely as the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition had in the history I knew.
Even as I say it, that sounds absurd. There's no pretext for a coalition to rally around — surely it couldn't actually happen.
...And yet, whenever anyone in a story says exactly that, it always does.
I shook my head to shake loose the uneasy thought, then began running my finger down the roster of those who had lately entered service in Luoyang, name by name.
Let's see... today feels like a day for someone truly great to show up...
My finger, sweeping across the documents one name at a time, stopped dead at a single line.
Jia Xu, courtesy name Wenhe.
You've finally come.
My eyes bored into the one name beneath my fingertip, unblinking.