In Search of My Land (1)
There are all sorts of people in the Central Plains.
Some are born with ears so long they brush their shoulders, others with a height of eight chi and faces as red as a beet, and still others—so beautiful they spark rumors of being women despite being men.
I'm different.
My looks are decent enough to call handsome, but there's something else about me that's so unusual it overshadows that.
—Hair the color of gold? What the hell kind of color is that?
—Isn't it closer to yellow? It's downright freakish... this color...
—It needs to be hidden.
I was born with yellow hair. No matter how you sliced it, it was pure gold, but no one could bring themselves to call it that.
—'Gold' is a color reserved for the emperor alone! How dare we call this hair gold!
Say it out loud, and your head would roll in an instant. Being born with the imperial color in your hair was as good as being a traitor. The son of some lowly official with golden hair? It wasn't like he'd melted gold onto his scalp or had coins pouring from it—it was just the color of his strands. Who'd adopt a kid like that?
—Let's abandon him.
My parents were decisive. They must've been. If they'd truly loved me as their child, they'd have dyed my hair black with ink, shaved it bald every day, or even plucked my eyebrows to hide the color.
But they didn't. My parents abandoned me.
The empire was already in chaos from the corruption of court officials, and a child born with freakish hair was easy pickings to leave by the roadside.
My master picked me up. I came to see him as a father, and he raised me far from prying eyes. From him, I learned letters, the ways of the scholars, self-defense to protect my own body, and how to survive as a commoner in this land.
There was sorrow in being cast off by my birth parents, but with new parents now, I figured I could repay them with filial piety from the heart.
At fifteen.
On the day I came of age, I lost the parents who had raised me. My first master went to buy a gift for my adulthood in Pingyuan—and was murdered.
The Yellow Turban Rebellion.
Heretics with yellow scarves on their heads dared to attack government offices with swords in hand. Not just offices—civilian homes too.
I had to flee my hometown without even recovering my master's body.
In villages, I smeared charcoal on my head to hide among refugees fleeing south. In Yellow Turban territory, I wrapped a yellow scarf around my head and posed as a messenger to cross the mountains.
I had a good head on my shoulders, and with help from various people along the way, I hid out near Chenliu.
There, I met my second master. Less a master than a caretaker for the old man—managing his assets in exchange for scraps to eat, assisting him through his final years.
The old man was a corrupt official.
He'd risen to high office and gained some fame, but the Ten Attendants had pushed him out of the capital. Still, it wasn't bad enough to cost him his head on false charges; he'd been assigned a small territory and governed it decently.
They said he'd repented his central court misdeeds by ruling his patch justly, remaking himself as a loyal servant of the throne.
Then the Yellow Turbans rose. The imperial army couldn't hold them back.
As a local governor, he lost his official seal—more precious than his life—and with it, his wealth, honor, and family name. He ended up in a thatched hut, nameless.
Our first meeting was a shock. I'd ducked into what I thought was an abandoned house, only to find the old man lying in the corner like a corpse.
From there began our not-quite-master-disciple relationship—which ended just yesterday.
The old man, my second master, was dead.
If my first master taught me how to live as a human with goodness, the second showed me the evil in people—and how to deal with them.
So how should I live?
"How to live? You just live however life takes you."
Life has no grand purpose. I can't deny it's just clinging to survival. But that's how some folks get by.
No lofty ideals, no pursuit of fame and self-realization, no throwing themselves into righteousness and loyalty.
I'll carve out my own little age of peace. Farm a bit, read some books, enjoy the finer things. Dodge wars when they come, keep just enough power to avoid harm, and get by moderately. And so, I left Chenliu—my second hometown. Though...
If things go south in Yangyang, maybe I should come back here someday, secure a hill or two? Before heading to Yangyang, I detoured to meet someone with ties to me. A relatively peaceful land untouched by Yellow Turbans or imperial troops: Yuzhou, Yingchuan Commandery.
"This spot would make a perfect future capital."
Whoops. With the Han dynasty still kicking, muttering that could land me on treason charges. No one's around to hear, though. And even if they did, who'd rat me out? Half the commoners are chanting Cheongcheonisa.
Cheongcheonisa. Blue Heaven is dead.
"Not quite Hwangcheon Dang-rip, but Cheongcheonisa rings true enough."
Heaven's due for a shake-up.
* * *
Chirp, chirp. Sparrows soared high into the sky.
The woman with sleek black hair tied neatly like silk caught her breath, clutching the book in her hands.
"Hoo, hoo."
Once a month. The day she met him always thrilled her. Sure, debating Confucius or the classics meant nothing to him, but his stories beat any discourse with Yingchuan's scholars—far more vivid and real.
"When will he get here...?"
He was younger, but scholarship cared nothing for age. What mattered was his insight, sharp enough to match hers in debate.
"This time, I hope he'll listen."
She'd prepared stacks of material to persuade him. After their heated argument last time, she'd hunted down the anecdotes and logic to win him over.
"Pardon the intrusion."
A familiar voice came from outside the academy. She nodded quietly to the servant, who opened the door for the guest.
"Welcome, Lady Sun."
"Lady? No need for such formality."
"I lack a courtesy name myself, so..."
The man sauntered in with a wry jab, pressing down on his head with something like a scholar's cap. But between his charcoal-smeared eyebrows, a glint of gold peeked through.
"Very well. Young Master Hwang, come in. It's been far too long since last month."
"Yes. Sorry to dive right in, but... I'm leaving."
The young man sat across from her and cut straight to it.
"I'm heading to Jingzhou. Its governor may be iffy on some things, but he crushes bandits reliably. Fewer thieves than elsewhere. So, Jingzhou it is."
"Wait, why so suddenly?"
"The old man passed."
She flinched, her hands freezing.
"He wanted a cremation in life. I'm just back from sending him skyward. Stopped here before I go."
"Why?"
"To wrap up our unfinished talk, Lady Sun. Or rather—since you hate that—let me correct myself."
He straightened up.
"Sun Mun-yak. I'm here to settle our debate once and for all."
"...You could just call me Sun Uk. Or by my courtesy name. You have the standing for it."
"Hah, a mere bookworm who knows a handful of characters? What standing does an ignorant bumpkin like me have?"
"Coming here before you leave proves you do. The dullard doesn't know he's wrong, the fool blushes at his errors, the genius has none."
Sun Uk opened her prepared book.
"Whose answer is right? Let's settle it. Once we have a conclusion, go ahead and leave."
"My legs aren't yours to command. Can you really hijack my freedom to travel?"
"Then just leave, and I'll claim victory."
"Ugh."
He scratched his head.
"Fine. We'll conclude before I head to Yangyang. Now, where'd we leave off last time?"
"After the Yellow Turbans fall—who'll be the new hero to prop up the Han?"
Hero. He mulled the word.
"I'll go first. I pick the Yuan clan of Hebei."
"Two Yuans—which one? Surely not Yuan Gonglu?"
"No, not the legitimate son—the bastard, Yuan Bencho... Yuan Shao."
Naming Yuan Shao, he nodded.
"He's earned it. Already shed the bastard stigma through three years of mourning. With a father who's held the Three Ducal Positions, Yuan Shao'll climb high. If not for the Ten Attendants."
"Yes. I see him sweeping them aside, righting the throne—a true hero."
Sun Uk slid the map across the table.
"Who do you think it'll be?"
"Gotta say it for a conclusion."
"Exactly. Or admit you were wrong last time. That whole..."
"Cheongcheonisa."
Sun Uk frowned at his words.
"Watch your tongue."
"Just quoting the Yellow Turbans' slogan?"
"Slithering out like a snake... sigh."
She rubbed her temple, shaking her head. He chuckled and pointed at the map.
"The imperial army's three generals: Zhu Jun, Huangfu Song, Lu Zhi. And those who made names crushing the Turbans this time. All heroes. But Mun-yak, you know? To me, a hero brings peace."
"...Even if it's not the Han's peace?"
"Yep."
Sun Uk paled. He just shrugged and sipped his tea.
"To a loyalist, a hero saves the Han. But mine's the same as last time. From your loyal view, he'd be a villain of chaos."
"...And who is he?"
"Who knows."
He shrugged again.
"Not yet!"
"Knew it. Then answer this: Suppose your chaos-bringer appears. How do you live after?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
He tapped the map.
"Buy an estate near his hometown and live idly. Maybe snag some land ahead of time. That way..."
His smile beamed brighter than sunshine.
"I can sell it high and live off the profits."