The Enigmatic Mountain Maiden - 3
Jingzhou seemed peaceful on the surface, but as the true powerholder Liu Biao fell gravely ill, the succession struggle between his eldest son Liu Qi and second son Liu Zong accelerated in earnest.
Zhuge Liang had personally proposed to Liu Zong the matter of the Cheonbu Girl, and Liu Zong welcomed it with open arms.
Zhuge Liang's eldest sister had married into the Kuai family, and figures like Kuai Yue and Cai Mao were among the influential clans backing Liu Zong. Thus, the Cai and Kuai families were natural allies.
For Liu Zong, basking in the Cai family's unwavering support, this suggestion from the reclusive Zhuge Liang could only be seen as a vote of confidence in his favor—hence his enthusiastic reception.
Zhuge Liang had fully grasped these inner workings. To avoid creating enemies, he sent a similar letter to the eldest son and Jiangxia Prefect Liu Qi, emphasizing that the proposal was made solely for Jingzhou's prosperity and peace.
“Nooo, why are you coming in too!!! It's so cramped here!!!”
A shrill squeal echoed out. The wife doted on children so much that Zhuge Liang wasn't overly concerned.
Having resolved to take in that little girl, there were mountains of follow-up tasks to handle.
“Is brother home?”
“Is that you, Jun? Come in.”
Zhuge Liang's decision to adopt Chen Soyoung stemmed not only from his master Sima Hui's influence but also from briefing his younger brother Zhuge Jun in advance, who had meticulously investigated her background.
“Soyoung is a bundle of fortune. Without her, there'd be heaps of folks who'd have starved to death.”
“What a peculiar girl. She even pities stray dogs and takes care of them. Impossible to hate her.”
“A virtuous family. Heaven must have recognized her rise.”
Zhuge Jun had inquired around Soyang, where Chen Soyoung lived, and heard nothing but praise.
“You've done well. How far did you dig?”
Bowing politely to Zhuge Liang, Zhuge Jun stretched out comfortably and began rubbing his thighs.
“Whatever trick she pulled, it's downright infuriating.”
“Is that so? I'm most curious—speak quickly.”
“That teahouse doesn't seem ordinary at all. I tailed the owner late at night and ran into a suspicious procession. They didn't look like mere collectors hunting for sculptures.”
In probing Chen Soyoung's background, Zhuge Liang uncovered several matters too significant to ignore.
“Sent by Cao Cao?”
“Indeed. Their appearance suggested as much. Cai Mao was among them. Ostensibly there on Liu Biao's orders to procure offerings for imperial rites, but their laughing and chattering struck me as highly suspicious.”
“Are you certain?”
“No doubt. Beware that man called Cheonma. His sharp eye is real enough, but he could be a spy planted by Cao Cao.”
Tasked by Zhuge Liang to trace the whereabouts of the sculptures Chen Soyoung had crafted, Zhuge Jun found no end of enthusiasts clamoring for them.
Zhuge Liang gazed at the dragon figurine on the table. A masterpiece of exquisite realism, lifelike enough to pass for the living thing itself.
Could such a work truly emerge from the hands of a nine-year-old? That was something to uncover in time.
“Your words ring true. The scheme to divide the realm into three isn't something blurted out lightly. There must have been some connection, some prior inkling that sparked such a notion. Otherwise, why reveal it to me? Something doesn't add up.”
“Precisely my thinking. That's why I've kept a close watch and poked around further.”
“You've toiled hard. Did you uncover anything?”
“I bribed the thugs she supposedly ran with and got their story. This Cheonma was once part of a band that joined the Yellow Turbans during their uprising. After Zhang Liang's death, they drifted to Yingchuan, were crushed by Gongsun Zan, and ended up here in Jingzhou.”
Zhang Jiao had forged elite troops from devotees' tribute, so until Grand General He Jin's army arrived, forces under Zhang Jiao, Zhang Bao, and Zhang Liang had racked up victory after victory against the imperial troops.
If Cheonma had served under Zhang Liang, he was one of the Yellow Turbans' elite.
“Yellow Turbans, eh.”
“Here in Jingzhou, he settled down, started a family, and fathered his eldest daughter Chen Soyoung. It's as if he turned over a new leaf—mellowed, began spreading virtue and living righteously.”
“Most peculiar. To be frank, it's implausible.”
“His actions after that are unknown. Brother... what shall we do?”
Zhuge Jun pressed for an answer.
“We cannot judge by appearances alone.”
Zhuge Liang closed his eyes.
It was bizarre. The Yellow Turbans sustained themselves through plunder, their atrocities infamous across the land. No matter how elite, that absolute premise stood unshaken.
Thus, for such a man to reform was utterly strange.
Some men cannot be reformed. Even Confucius admonished one defecating by the roadside but passed by another in the road's center.
“I must speak with the child to find answers. What of you?”
“I'm most curious myself—shall I join?”
“Very well, then.”
A breeze stirred, flickering the candle's wick, casting shadows on Zhuge Liang's face.
Why did you lament your birth so bitterly?
Chen Soyoung's first impression in Zhuge Liang's eyes had been pessimistic, fearful.
Are you atoning for your father's past sins in his stead, Chen Soyoung?
Specks of light danced in the air.
Zhuge Liang opened his eyes.
As Zhuge Jun tended the dying lamp, the reflected flame made Zhuge Liang's eyes gleam.
Sensing the shift in his brother's demeanor, Zhuge Jun bowed his head silently.
In the modest study of the Yungzhong estate, only Zhuge Liang's voice resounded.
“Even so small a child upholds her duty...”
Why had such a thought suddenly arisen?
Jingzhou was at peace, and peace erases memories. A submerged recollection bobbed up, settling atop his mind.
Xuzhou Massacre.
Hoofbeats and dying gasps in Xuzhou. Cao Cao's army was ferocious, merciless.
They struck like lightning, poured down like waterfalls—indistinguishable from foes in the blizzard of slaughter, extinguishing all life in their path.
Xuzhou's people, just beginning spring planting, met mass death. It began as vengeance for a father's murder.
The world is unjust...
No one sought to blame it.
“Whoa, it's so warm.”
“You like it?”
Who knew a hot bath could bring such bliss!
The Jingzhou where I lived was better off than the poorest African nation in one key way: it wasn't water-scarce.
We could easily secure enough for washing, but the problem was the filthy, ice-cold water.
“When you light the fire here, the water heats up. Amazing, right?”
Huang Yueying proudly showcased her bathhouse, its very concept extraordinary. I never imagined seeing something like this here.
“Made by hardening quicklime?”
“Oh! You can tell just by looking? You're incredible...”
“Genius. What material is it? You couldn't get this perfect cement-like... form just from mixing stone and water.”
The bathhouse walls were cemented. No—the idea to build a bathhouse at all was genius!
“Interested? Want to know more?”
“Yes, so curious!”
Huang Yueying's eyes sparkled. Like she might devour me.
“It was inspired by city walls. See? Bronze plates line the floor, channeling hot air through. Iron grates get too hot for feet, so I shaped and joined gypsum blocks to keep them safe.”
“Gaps between the gypsum let water circulate, heated by rising iron warmth—warming the circulating water. Got it.”
Primitive, sure, but using radiant heat showed unconventional thinking.
The design heated vast water volumes far quicker, saving massive wood.
How did she think of bronze plating?
The underfloor kiln preserved heat masterfully—impressive.
“How are you so clever! My husband was right!”
Pat pat.
“But one flaw...”
Huang Yueying, who'd been playing with my hair, slipped behind me, hugging tight. No—grabbing my arms, scrubbing my skin...
“What flaw do you see?”
“Water's too hot.”
“Too hard to endure?”
“A bit.”
Huang Yueying paused her scrubbing and enveloped me warmly.
“Get used to it, dear. Don't you know, Soyoung? Women must steel their hearts more than men. Like a peacock spreading its tail—you must cultivate yourself. To avoid scorn, be more steadfast than anyone. This is your first step, little one.”
Ten years since a hot bath? Or this frail body? Breathing grew hard, chest tight.
“No... the water's hot.”
“Bear it. I'm in here with you.”
Huang Yueying was stubborn.
Her engineering for the bath was brilliant, but she lacked medical insight into a growing child's limits versus her own.
Trapped, I endured the face-washing, then five rounds of dress-up play, before stepping into the study where Zhuge Liang awaited.
Zhuge Liang was perceptive. Seeing me, he voiced my exact thought.
“...Did you boil the child, madam?”