Zhang Liao, Wenyuan
The ferry port of Wushajin was held under a grim watch, for it lay against the flank of Aocang, that vast imperial granary. Wen Chong's post as Acting Sima in the office of the Sili Xiaowei bought him certain courtesies, yet an endless wait was a cruel punishment for a fighting man.
He cracked his knuckles and twisted where he sat, bored to the bone. Better to be swinging a spear on the drill ground than staring at the river like this; the itch of idleness was driving him half mad. The sun leaned down in the west and dyed the Yellow River red.
Then the man who had been quietly directing the port came over. It was Ren Jun, the officer who managed the port's daily business. His rank was Jinzhang — Port Chief — a junior post salaried at three hundred dan.
"Acting Sima Wen, are you itching for something to do?"
"Ah, Port Chief Ren. Don't even start. I'd rather be in a fight, taking an enemy's head."
Wen Chong grumbled it low.
Ren Jun gave a short laugh and pointed across the water.
"Your lord's orders are strict. What can you do?"
"Even so, you've a fair store of patience."
"My lord doesn't deal in empty words, so I wait. I trust Department Director Zhang will come. And we've been comfortable thanks to you, Port Chief Ren. I'm grateful."
"Grateful? Look there. Do you see the big boats cutting the current?"
Wen Chong followed the line of Ren Jun's finger. Three large vessels were coming on.
"Oh! Don't tell me that's Department Director Zhang's force."
"Most likely. At this hour we'd ordinarily close the port and launch nothing, but I arranged matters ahead of time. They'll make land before dark."
"Clean work, as expected! I owe you a debt."
Wen Chong laughed brightly and clapped him on the shoulder. The hand was rough, but the sincerity in it was plain. He studied Ren Jun a moment, then spoke as if the thought had only just occurred to him.
"Port Chief Ren."
"Please, speak."
"Skill that careful is a waste, left to rot on a riverbank, isn't it? No mind to serve under our young lord?"
Ren Jun's eyes went round, caught off guard.
"Would a man like me even be fit? A great house is sure to weigh pedigree."
"Bah. You don't know what you're saying. Look at me."
Wen Chong thumped his own chest.
"Do I look like a man with learning? I was nothing but muscle. But the young lord doesn't look at birth. He looks only at the man — character, ability, and loyalty. I'll stake my word on it. Port Chief Ren will do far greater things than I ever will."
Warming to it, he poured out the Yuan Shang he had come to know, and the extraordinary things that boy had shown at so young an age. Ren Jun's face changed by degrees. Bewilderment became curiosity, and curiosity, before long, astonishment.
A young lord of only eleven, and he handles men this deftly?
The Wen Chong before him was no mere fighting brute. Rough, yes, but careful, and weighty in word and deed — and filled to the brim with absolute trust in his lord, and with pride. Yuan Shang had an eye for men, and a heart that cherished his own. For a junior official short of connections in an age of chaos, no master could be more alluring. If he could raise a stout fellow like Wen Chong into a retainer this loyal, then Yuan Shang's ability was as good as proven.
Ren Jun swallowed dryly. It was an age when a man entered office only by recommendation. The Yuan, first house under heaven — young though he was, Yuan Shang was a sturdy rope to grip when a man thought of the years ahead. In ten years or so, a recommendation might come. For Ren Jun, ten years was time enough to wait.
"...I wonder whether the young lord would even receive a petty official like me."
"Don't worry about that. When the chance comes, I'll recommend you."
"Haha. Then I'll set shame aside and ask it of you."
Ren Jun bowed with formal courtesy. And so, carried on the current, the bond between Ren Jun and the foremost house of the Yuan began.
Wen Chong went down to the port with Ren Jun. Thanks to Ren Jun's arrangements the widest wharf stood empty, and Zhang Liao was crossing aboard the large boats with several hundred soldiers. Wen Chong knew him at a glance as he came ashore. He had brought a written description of Zhang Liao's face and build when he set out — and even without it, a commander of that stamp had to be made his own man. The first impression struck that hard.
"Department Director Zhang Liao. Is that you?"
"Who are you?"
Zhang Liao looked at him with a tense gaze. The bulk of the man, the cutting light in his eyes, the set of a body ready to strike — this was no one who stood below him.
"I am Wen Chong, Acting Sima in the service of the Third Young Lord of the Sili Xiaowei."
"The Sili Xiaowei..."
"Ah, right. He was Middle Colonel of the Western Garden Eight Colonels, and only recently rose to Sili Xiaowei."
"Department Director Zhang Liao."
Recalling Yuan Shao's third son, Yuan Shang, Zhang Liao frowned as if the name troubled him.
Young. Seven by now? Eleven? It must be something like that.
He remembered the boy because he was Yuan Shao's son.
"Look at these. Letters from the Sili Xiaowei and the Third Young Lord."
Wen Chong drew two letters from his robe. Zhang Liao saluted and took them, ordered his adjutant to form the men, then sat and read in calm. When he had gone through both with care, he let out a short sigh.
"Is Luoyang in such disorder?"
"A great deal happened while Department Director Zhang was away in Hebei. Director Zhang — Luoyang now groans under Dong Zhuo... no, under the Grand Commandant's tyranny. The Sili Xiaowei is rushing east and west to stop it. Lend him your strength."
Zhang Liao's mind worked quickly. With nowhere left to go, he had no wish to follow Dong Zhuo if he could help it. His townsman Lu Bu had done so, but Lu Bu had killed Ding Yuan, the very man who recommended Zhang Liao, and that made him no one to trust.
For now, into the shade of the Yuan. A man ought to step out of a squall, oughtn't he? If the Sili Xiaowei treasures the Third Young Lord this much, the boy is worth taking as a lord. I'll read the situation on the road to Luoyang, and make the final choice when I arrive.
He judged it as a practical man. Keeping the three hundred stout fellows he had brought fed and in order would take a frightening sum of money, and so he resolved to enter Yuan Shao's command. They called it Yuan Shang's banner, but he took it for Yuan Shao's in the end, and the decision came quickly. Having settled it, he stated his position with courtesy.
"I am a man of the General-in-Chief's Manor. I believe the Acting Sima, but I wish to see Luoyang with my own eyes. If your words prove true, then I will follow the Sili Xiaowei... the Third Young Lord."
"Well said. Let us go together."
When Zhang Liao accepted, Wen Chong burst into a great laugh. Late as it was, he set out for Luoyang with Zhang Liao and his company.
Ren Jun watched them dwindle down the road.
Could I truly step into the Yuan's shade as well? If I did, I might be recommended to a higher post.
Stuck as a mere Port Chief, he itched with restlessness. From childhood he had been praised for courage and for talent.
Wen Chong and Zhang Liao cut their nights short and rode hard for Luoyang. The air inside the city lay heavy. The General-in-Chief's Manor had lost its master, and already Dong Zhuo's officers and men came and went through it as if it were their own house. The banners alone were enough to turn the stomach. Zhang Liao's fist trembled.
"Where is the General-in-Chief?"
"Buried on Mount Beimang."
Zhang Liao let out a short sigh and shut his mouth. Wen Chong had expected open weeping. There was not a gleam of water at the man's eyes.
A truly cold, hard one. Neither blood nor tears in him?
He clicked his tongue inwardly. A man who set reason before grief was a man harder to trust. He was narrowing his eyes, wondering whether some other intent hid behind that calm, when a voice like thunder drove into his back.
"Well, look who it is. A lost puppy has found its way home."
At the sneer, Zhang Liao's head snapped around. It was Lu Bu.
"Registrar Lu."
"Watch your mouth. I'm Cavalry Controller now."
Lu Bu tipped his chin up, arrogant. Zhang Liao frowned and answered him.
"Have you no shame? Not content with killing your own superior, the Inspector of Bingzhou, you follow the man who put you up to it."
"Ashamed? Ha! Don't make me laugh. The man with power is justice. I only followed the greater power. Is that a crime? Department Director Zhang, haven't you lived the same way?"
"The General-in-Chief died, and the General-in-Chief's Manor is finished. The Inspector of Bingzhou is dead too. You've nowhere to go, have you? Come under me. I won't let you starve."
Zhang Liao turned his head as if the words were not worth an answer.
"My head is spinning. I can't settle a judgment."
"What's a man doing with so many thoughts? Tsk."
Lu Bu clicked his tongue and shifted his gaze — and met the eyes of Wen Chong, planted at Zhang Liao's back. Those eyes flashed.
"Don't tell me you're on your way to the Yuan."
"I won't answer."
"You'll regret it. The Grand Commandant and the Sili Xiaowei — which of them do you think survives? Don't grab a rotten rope and ride it to hell. Come to me. True power is in the Grand Commandant's hands now."
"Whether a rope is rotten or sound, you only learn by hanging from it. Slander the Yuan lightly, and my blade will not forgive it."
Wen Chong cut in at once, glaring as he warned him. Lu Bu's brow twitched. He looked a breath away from swinging that long spear and forcing the issue, but Wen Chong's presence was nothing to slight, and the stares of Zhang Liao and three hundred soldiers were sharp.
"Let us go, Department Director Zhang. Stay here any longer and our ears will rot."
Wen Chong pushed at Zhang Liao's back. Zhang Liao, no more eager to entangle himself, turned his horse. If Dong Zhuo's soldiers came spilling out, the thing could turn bloody. At the backs of the two men as they drew away, Lu Bu's sneer flew and struck home.
"Think it over! Don't grab a rotten rope and hang from it!"
Zhang Liao did not look back. He only quickened his pace.
The moment Dong Zhuo's crowd vanished from sight, Zhang Liao let a sigh break from his set face. The great tree that was General-in-Chief He Jin had fallen. The bleakness of a kite with its string cut bore down on his shoulders.
"You'll sink a hole in the earth at this rate."
"Acting Sima. Speak honestly."
"About what?"
"Can the Sili Xiaowei truly beat Dong Zhuo? The gap in strength is far too great, and his momentum pierces the sky."
At the skeptical question, Wen Chong gave a short laugh.
"I trust the Sili Xiaowei too. But the one I truly trust is the Third Young Lord alone."
"...The Third Young Lord?"
That he trusted Yuan Shang more than Yuan Shao left Zhang Liao's thoughts in a tangle. Loyalty to a young lord he could understand. To hang the course of a chaotic age on a child was madness. But Wen Chong's eyes were serious to an uncanny degree.
"Look at me. Do I look like a man who talks nonsense?"
"...Not that. But—"
"Wait, and you'll see why I've hung my life on him. No one can match his insight."
Before that certainty, Zhang Liao raised no further objection. For now he had to remain in the Yuan clan's shade. And the great tree of the Yuan, as he conceived it, was still Yuan Shao.
"You've had a hard time of it, Acting Sima."
"I have only carried out the young lord's command. Offer your greeting. This is the Third Young Lord."
At Wen Chong's introduction, Zhang Liao offered a military salute almost before he knew it.
Eleven. In another time he would have thought the boy a child who still smelled of milk. But the eyes that watched him from the seat of honor were deep, and still, to a strange degree.
"Zhang Liao, Department Director of the General-in-Chief's Manor. My courtesy name is Wenyuan."
"Well met, Department Director Zhang. A long road. You've labored."
I offered a teacup and gestured with easy grace.
"Have Colonel Wu and Sima Wu attend."
A guard took the order and ran. I set the cup down and tossed the next words out lightly.
The lid of the teacup in Zhang Liao's hand struck the floor with a sharp clatter and rolled. His eyes flew wide, as if they might tear.
"...What did you just say?"
"In the reign of Emperor Wu, the heroic general of Mayi who planned to lure the Xiongnu in and annihilate them — Nie Yi. He is your ancestor, is he not?"
"H-how—!"
"Fearing Xiongnu vengeance, your line changed its surname to Zhang and lived with its breath held. But blood cannot be deceived. Does your own martial gift not prove it?"
Zhang Liao's mouth worked soundlessly as he looked from me to Wen Chong and back. Wen Chong was grinning with a look that said, plain as speech, There, you see?
"How far does your knowledge go?"
"Who can say? There is nowhere under heaven the eyes and ears of the Yuan do not reach."
I smiled faintly. It was not a net of agents. It was the memory of a former life. There was no need to say so.
At that moment Wu Ban and Wu Yi came in, and I greeted them warmly. They had eaten from the same pot in the General-in-Chief's Manor, and so Wu Ban and Wu Yi exchanged an easy greeting with Zhang Liao. Zhang Liao offered condolences on Wu Guang's death; Wu Ban vowed revenge. Then Wu Ban clapped the bewildered Zhang Liao on the shoulder.
"Don't be shocked. We were the same."
"Colonel Wu also... the Third Young Lord?"
"If not for him, my brother and I would have died far from home. It was the Third Young Lord who warned us in advance that Dong Min meant to strike at our father. That we could not stop it is a grief of a thousand autumns. I will kill Dong Zhuo, and I will have my revenge."
Zhang Liao could not close his mouth. Wu Ban, son of Wu Guang, was a man famed for his pride — and that man served, as his lord, not Yuan Shao but Yuan Shang at eleven. More than that, an insight that had already pierced the secret of the house of Nie. This was no mere prodigy.
At eleven, judgment of this order, and a hand that can wield men...
Zhang Liao shook his head. He thought he understood now why Wen Chong had been certain as a madman, and what that insight truly was. He rose, set his collar straight, and offered a formal military salute.
"My eyes were too narrow to recognize Mount Tai. For the time being, I will follow the Third Young Lord."
"Well decided. You have my thanks."
I rose and caught both of Zhang Liao's hands in mine. At the warmth of them, he lifted his head.
"...Thank you!"
Strength entered Zhang Liao's voice. Wu Ban, Wu Yi, and Wen Chong smiled, well pleased.
It was done.
Zhang Liao of all the world had come into my hands. Doubt still lingered in his heart, but I would shake every last grain of it loose and make him wholly my own.