The People Around Me
The year was 189. I had turned eleven.
By now, hardly anyone still muttered of madness behind my back. I had put on the mask of the child this age expected, and the performance was so flawless that my father rejoiced, certain the madness had been cured.
Of course, I was straining with everything I had to hold on to the memories of my past life. That, and that alone, remained an absolute secret.
"Hup!"
My body lifted clear of the ground, and the world opened wide. Yan Liang's thick, enormous hands locked firm around my waist. Seen from horseback, the world was different from the dirt up—even the air itself had changed.
"Well? Does the world look a little wider from up here?"
"It feels as if my chest has been thrown wide open!"
I turned my head, smiling bright and broad, the way a child was meant to.
Yan Liang. A descendant of Yan Hui, disciple of Confucius, and a man of the Qingzhou gentry. Moved by my father's propriety—he had completed the three-year mourning twice over—Yan Liang had chosen of his own will to follow him.
At present my father was Middle Colonel of the Western Garden Eight Colonels. Real authority rested with Jian Shuo, the Supreme Colonel; my father's post was an empty honor. Even so, men of talent like Yan Liang came flocking to his side like moths to a flame. That was how highly so many people thought of him.
Yan Liang took the reins and walked the horse at an easy pace. More than any fear of the height, a thrill climbed my spine at the immense power moving beneath me.
"Uncle."
At my call, Yan Liang turned his head with an easy motion. Among all who followed my father, only a handful—Yan Liang among them—ever heard me call them uncle.
"Is there a man called Wen Chou?"
"Wen Chou..."
Yan Liang's brow drew tight. The tilt of his head said the name meant nothing to him.
Not yet, then. I had been wondering whether Father had gained the man only after becoming Inspector of Jizhou—when Yan Liang slapped his knee, memory striking at last.
"Ah! You mean that pockmarked fellow."
"Pockmarked?"
"Aye. Lowborn, but his strength is something fierce, and he handles a weapon like a master. Must have taken a fever as a boy—his face is nothing but pockmarks. Had it been whole, he'd have been a fine-looking man. So they called him Chou. Ugly. And the name stuck."
Ugly, for a name.
Was it the memories of my past life, or the fact that I already thought of him as mine? Common as such naming was in this age, something in my chest still ached.
"But how do you know of him?"
"I happened to hear he was said to be tremendously strong."
"True enough, he'd be a comfort to have close by. What do you say—shall I set him as your guard?"
Yan Liang asked it in jest, but my answer came at once.
"Thank you."
"Eh?"
Yan Liang's eyes went wide. The calculation must have flashed through him—too fine a man to waste as a child's bodyguard. I did not let the opening pass. I drove the point home.
"Thank you for giving me Wen Chou as my guard."
Whether he had read my eyes or not, Yan Liang broke into a booming laugh.
"Aye, I'll give him, and gladly. But mark this. If things turn dire, this uncle will take him back for his own use. Can you live with that?"
"Of course. You'll be the one who keeps our Yuan clan safe."
At that frank answer, Yan Liang mussed my hair with one great hand. The touch was rough, but affection soaked through the warmth of it. I liked an uncle like this.
Afternoon sunlight was stretching long across the books when a vast shadow fell over the open room. A man the size of a mountain could not bring himself to step inside. He flattened himself on the ground before the threshold.
"Guard Wen Chou pays his respects to the Third Young Master."
"Well met. Don't stay out there. Come in and sit."
At my gesture, the man's shoulders flinched.
"How could this lowly one dare sit in the same place as the Third Young Master? And please—speak down to me as you wish."
He stayed hunched in on himself, unable even to meet my eyes. A man whose very name was Ugly. A life in which being looked down upon had grown more familiar than breathing.
I put on a stern voice.
"When I tell you to sit, you sit. I have no wish to wear out the knees of a man who is mine."
"Yes."
Only then did Wen Chou creep into the room and sit, awkward and hesitant. Up close, his face was indeed a fierce sight. The bones beneath were handsome enough, but the pockmarks were far too many, and a sword-cut left untreated had become a great scar. What caught my eye was not the scar. It was a gaze intense enough to command a room.
Ugly, for a man like this. Tsk.
Instead of clicking my tongue, I looked straight up at him.
"Would you let me give you a new name?"
"Sir?"
"Ugly is too cruel, isn't it? From this day, you will use Chong—loyalty. In the great sense, be loyal to the realm. In the small, guard me well. What do you say?"
Wen Chou's eyes—no, Wen Chong's—grew round as bells, and tears welled in them. Who in his right mind would want to be called Ugly? The hardness of the years he had lived left a bitter taste.
"Th-this grace... how am I ever to repay it?"
"Too soon to be overcome. A man needs a courtesy name as well."
I propped my chin on my hand, feigning thought, and met his eyes. There was a sharpness hidden inside that stolid bearing. Dulled only for lack of learning—a keen spirit was there, no question of it.
"Huicheng. Hui for brilliance, cheng for accomplishment. It means you are to fulfill your will not only through arms, but through letters."
"I-I'm not worthy! Huicheng, for an ignorant brute like me?"
Wen Chong waved his hands and drew back, dismay written plain across his face. I let out a short laugh and drove the wedge in.
"If anyone objects, give them my name. I'll thrash them until they forget who they are. You are Yuan Shang's man. That is qualification enough."
"Young Master."
The rims of his eyes reddened. To win a man is, in the end, to win his heart. In that parched heart, I had set a small shoot of loyalty to sprouting. To shift the mood, I shut the book with a tap.
"Tell me, Huicheng. Do you know your letters at all?"
"I'm illiterate."
"Perfect. From today, I'll teach you. Consider it an order."
"An... an order?"
Caught off guard by the turn, Wen Chong blinked. I grinned and lifted the brush.
"If people say my guard is an ignorant lout, what becomes of his master's face? No arguments. Learn."
In history, Wen Chong had been brave, but lacking in stratagem he had died an empty death alongside Yan Liang. That would not be his fate now.
A seasoned soul past forty, and a wealth of knowledge with it, shut inside the body of an eleven-year-old child. With this, I will forge you into the greatest general under heaven.
Dazed, and yet overcome, Wen Chong bowed his head.
"I will carve this grace into my bones, and never forget it."
He wept, overcome. I rested a quiet hand on his shoulder.
The last spiteful cold of spring withdrew, and the weather turned warm.
"You're Shang?"
I looked up. A man stood at a slant, looking down at me. Twenty or so, perhaps. Splendid silk hung on him carelessly, and the attendants trailing behind marked him as no ordinary person. Above all, those eyes were frightening. He was smiling, but a blade honed cold and blue hid behind the smile.
"Who might you be?"
"Ah. We never even exchanged names. I am Guo of Yangdi County. Given name Jia, courtesy name Fengxiao."
My heart dropped.
Guo Jia.
The genius adviser Cao Cao had treasured so dearly in history had walked up to me of his own accord. I wanted to seize his trouser leg that instant and beg him to become my man—but I was only eleven. Make that offer to the proud Guo Jia of this moment, and he would call me a lunatic. In history, after all, he had refused even my father's proposal.
"You look perfectly sound. Why ever did such bizarre rumors start?"
Guo Jia clicked his tongue and circled me where I stood.
"Grown people are very strange."
"How so?"
"If you imagine something interesting, they say you've gone mad. If you speak honestly, they say you have no manners. Do you think so too, elder brother?"
At the question turned back on him, Guo Jia's eyes curved. Interest stirred. He bent at the waist until we were eye to eye.
"Hmm. A brat one can actually talk to. So—having seen the state of Luoyang, what do you make of it?"
"And what do you see, elder brother?"
Guo Jia's look said well, look at this one—and then he put on a sly smile.
"Let's see. A pleasure house with good wine? Or pretty women?"
"Oh, come now."
"What, disappointed?"
As if his interest had cooled, Guo Jia straightened. I could not let him leave like this. I cast the bait at his back, my voice small, but clear.
Guo Jia's steps stopped dead. Slowly—very slowly—he turned. Every trace of play was gone.
"Go on."
"This moment resembles the years after the Former Han fell and before the Later Han rose, when the world heaved. The pillars are already rotten and leaning, and everyone is busy only with the gilded ornament."
A taut tension hung between us. Guo Jia stared straight through me. The words struck too near the mark to dismiss as a child's mischief. After a long moment, he let out a short, empty laugh.
"Impudent little thing. Don't go flapping your mouth just anywhere. Talk like that is a fine way to shorten your life."
"Thank you for your concern."
"Concern? Hardly. I just don't want the noise."
Guo Jia spun away again and waved a hand.
"Elder brother."
"What now."
"When that pillar comes all the way down, have a drink with me."
At the brazen offer, Guo Jia hesitated. Without looking back, he tossed the words over his shoulder, a strange aftertaste in his voice.
"If you're still alive by then. Brat—once you've grown a fair bit, I'll think about it."
Watching his back recede, I clenched my fist. Even if it had been nothing but curiosity, I had carved the name Yuan Shang firmly into a genius's mind.
"We'll meet again in a few years, Fengxiao."
A smile spread at the corner of my mouth.
Even the scent of blossoms on the spring wind could not cover the dank air of Luoyang. Word that the Emperor's life hung by a thread had spread through the city.
The General-in-Chief, He Jin, and the Ten Attendants. While those two great powers whetted their blades over who would hold power next, my father walked a perilous line along the edge of the same steel. Because of it, the threshold of our house was worn nearly away. Carriages packed the narrow alley, and within the walls it was tumult day and night.
Using the commotion as my excuse, I studied the faces coming and going from a corner of the courtyard.
"Ho ho. Look at this little young master. Sharp eyes on him."
Behind a smile that seemed all goodwill, a keen gaze swept over me. I bowed my head, smiling bright and sunny, as a child should.
"It has been a while, Uncle Yuantu."
"Oh? You remembered my courtesy name. Clever boy."
Feng Ji laughed and bent down until our eyes were level. Among the many retainers who ate at our table, he was the genuine article. Even this small gesture told me so.
"You're on your way to see my father?"
"I am. The world is unsettled, and Lord Yuan has work piled high as a mountain."
"With a man as brilliant as you beside him, my father must feel secure."
"Well now. Praise from a child is not entirely unwelcome. Still, I am only one of the many shadows that follow Lord Yuan."
He made a show of modesty, but the pride at the corner of his mouth would not stay hidden. Pleased, Feng Ji gave my shoulder a light pat.
"Just grow up strong and tall, young master. Leave the headaches to us grown men."
He vanished toward the reception hall on a light step. I narrowed my eyes at his back.
Feng Ji. That man was certainly worth using. But—
"Shang'er."
I knew the voice. My brow tightened, then smoothed again in the same breath. It was Guo Tu, who followed my father. I brought my hands together with all due courtesy.
"Uncle Gongze. You've come."
"What are you doing out here, at an hour when you ought to be at your books?"
Guo Tu. Courtesy name Gongze. He clicked his tongue and looked down at me like a sharp-tongued mother-in-law. Unlike Feng Ji, his way was to scold first. I was Father's third son, and young. That would be why.
"The house was so noisy I stepped out to clear my head. I was curious, too."
"Idle curiosity is poison. Don't go peering into the affairs of your elders. Go back to your room and read one more character. That is your work."
"Yes. I'll remember."
Before the answer was even finished, Guo Tu turned sharply away. His interest lay only in my father, at the peak of power, and in my eldest brother, Yuan Tan. That arrogant, shortsighted manner. In the memories of my past life, the chief architect of the Yuan clan's ruin had been Guo Tu himself.
Hold yourself as stiff as you please. There was never going to be any bond between us. And I will not sit quietly by and let history run its course.
I flung the words, ice-cold, at the back of his retreating head. Only inwardly, of course. For now, I had to be nothing more than an eleven-year-old youngest son who knew nothing at all.