Chapter Twelve: Making New Friends

After that excursion into the mountains, Liu Xian began studying history.

At this time, Chen Shou, renowned in history as a great historian, had not yet completed compiling the *Records of the Three Kingdoms*. However, apart from materials related to Eastern Wu, he had already gathered most of the records concerning Shu Han and Cao Wei. Not to mention other widely circulated historical texts such as the *Records of the Grand Historian*, *Book of Han*, and *Dongguan Han Ji*. Additionally, Chen Shou had collected nearly a thousand volumes of various anthologies, rhapsodies, inscriptions, and poems from different sources, enough to fill ten large boxes. In an era when paper was scarce, Chen Shou’s collection was truly extraordinary.

Now, Chen Shou laid out these books before Liu Xian, presenting him with a reading list to follow in order. Whenever Liu Xian encountered unfamiliar characters or phrases, he was to seek Chen Shou’s guidance. Meanwhile, Liu Xian was free to explore other books according to his interests.

Chen Shou first recommended *Spring and Autumn Annals*, *Zuo Zhuan*, and *Annals of Han*. Unlike traditional biographical histories like *Records of the Grand Historian* and *Book of Han*, which require readers to piece together timelines and events themselves—often confusing for beginners—these three annalistic histories recorded events by date. Though their descriptions were concise, they were perfect for novices, making subsequent reading of biographical histories far more effective.

This was exactly what Liu Xian had long yearned for. Upon receiving the books, he burst forth with astonishing enthusiasm, immersing himself in study both at the thatched cottage and late into the night at home. Even on bumpy journeys, a scroll was always in his hand, his mind wandering through the tales.

The feuds among the Eastern Zhou lords, clashes between tyrants and heroes, the founding of the Han Empire, the mingling of confusion and courage—all stirred his heart. History revealed so many fascinating lives: countless stratagems, bravery, loyalty, ideals, and the willingness to face death unflinchingly. Liu Xian felt as if he had made many friends, vividly experiencing the joys and sorrows of historical figures: the jealousy Zheng Zhuanggong felt toward his mother’s favoritism, the astonishing boldness of King Zhuang of Chu, Han Xin’s arrogance born of abundance, and Xiang Yu’s stubborn suicide at Wujiang. Whenever their stories ended, Liu Xian sighed at their departure.

Of course, for the first time, he truly understood his ancestors’ glorious history. Reading about Emperor Gaozu of Han slaying the white snake in rebellion, he marveled at the elderly man’s passion; when reading of Emperor Wu’s territorial expansions, his dreams brimmed with the clangor of arms; reflecting on Emperor Xuan’s deep attachment to his sword, he wondered who would accompany him through life...

Among all this, what impressed Liu Xian most was not any individual, but the vastness of the nation.

It was hard to imagine a country encompassing the northern deserts, the lofty mountains of Longyou, the misty clouds of Lingnan, and the snowy plains of Liaodong. The mere fragments recorded in texts barely captured the world’s splendor. From then on, Liu Xian harbored his first grand ambition: to travel the world, measuring mountains and rivers with his own footsteps, just as his ancestors had.

Lost in reading, Liu Xian forgot the passage of time until the end of May, when he finally emerged from his immersion.

According to the agreement between Zhang Ximiao and Chen Shou, Liu Xian was to study at the thatched cottage for nine days and rest at home on the tenth. On this day, resting at home, he remained diligently engrossed in books. He had just hastily skimmed through the *Annals of Han* and now compared it alongside the *Records of the Grand Historian* and the *Book of Han*.

But this day was unusual. As Liu Xian read the *Biography of Chen Tang*, suddenly the courtyard outside erupted in commotion. The sounds of gongs and drums surged through the streets, mingling with the bustling footsteps of an unknown multitude. It was clear something very lively was happening.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knocking on the door—“dong dong dong.” Liu Xian opened it to find Zhang Gu and Xi An. Upon seeing him, they hurriedly exclaimed, “Bi Ji, why are you still sitting here? If you don’t hurry to the west gate to grab a spot, others will take them all!”

Before Liu Xian could understand, they seized him by either arm and pulled him outside. Lady Fei, seeing this, did not stop them. Instead, she naturally called over Zhu Fu to help look after the three children and told Liu Xian, “Go early, come back early!”

Stepping out, Liu Xian was greeted by waves of people, the thunder of footsteps, and the roar of drums and gongs. The taverns and inns lining the road were draped with colorful fabrics, layered like blooming flowers. Along the street, early spring apricot blossoms drifted down like a pink snowfall amid the revelry. Everywhere was filled with a joyous, vibrant atmosphere.

What was going on? Caught up in the contagious mood, Liu Xian couldn’t help but smile, though he remained somewhat confused.

He turned to Zhang Gu, who was momentarily taken aback before whispering to Xi An, “Bi Ji must have been reading too much—he doesn’t even know the royal army is marching out.”

At that moment, the crowd ahead paused. Zhang Gu pushed forward eagerly, with Xi An close behind, and turning to Liu Xian said, “Bi Ji, the court is sending troops to reclaim Liangzhou!”

Since last year, after Tufa Shujineng killed Yang Xin, the court had suffered repeated defeats in Liangzhou. By August, Tufa Shujineng had completely seized Wuwei and Jincheng, severing all communication with the Hexi region. Liangzhou was effectively lost to the state.

When the news reached Luoyang, the emperor publicly lamented in court, asking his ministers, “Who will crush these barbarians and restore Liangzhou?”

The court officials remained silent, fearing to lead troops and meet the same fate as Yang Xin. Some even suggested abandoning Liangzhou altogether, following the example of Cui Lie, the Grand Tutor under Emperor Ling of Han, who advised ceding the territory to the Xianbei. They argued that after more than ten years of warfare, resources were drained by tens of thousands of measures of grain, yet unrest persisted. It would be better to concentrate defenses around Tianshui and Jincheng, allowing the populace to live in peace and the state to recover its strength.

At the height of these debates, the commander of the imperial guards, Ma Long, submitted a memorial: “I am willing to pacify the unrest for Your Majesty.”

The emperor was astonished and asked for Ma Long’s plan. Ma Long replied, “I request permission to recruit soldiers independently and make decisions on my own. Given proper arms and supplies, three thousand men is sufficient. Such a small force of Xianbei is hardly worth mention.”

This proposal was immediately opposed by officials like Duke Lu Jia Chong. Though the number was small, independent recruitment and command violated Jin dynasty regulations. Allowing Ma Long such autonomy risked him building a private army; if he colluded with the rebel barbarians in Liangzhou, the frontier would never know peace.

Yet, determined to reclaim Liangzhou, the emperor granted Ma Long’s request and promoted him, bypassing usual protocols, to Protector of the Pacification Army and Governor of Wuwei.

That same month, Ma Long recruited 3,500 strong men from Luoyang, each equipped with crossbows capable of pulling 36 jun (about 238 kilograms) and bows of 4 jun (about 26 kilograms). He then petitioned the armory officials, securing the finest armor and weapons, along with three years’ worth of military supplies. After months of training, the army was finally ready to march toward Liangzhou.

Luoyang was never short of soldiers; the imperial guards alone numbered over ten thousand within the city. Yet Ma Long’s troops possessed a unique aura that drew crowds.

Unlike the lavishly dressed imperial guards, this army was simple and unadorned:

Officers wore no ornamentation, their eyes free from arrogance, dismounting to walk alongside the soldiers. The soldiers wore friendly expressions, carrying weapons without menace or the sorrow of impending exile. Their multicolored pack horses, while lacking the splendor of the imperial cavalry, bore bows, armor, provisions, and specially designed sidecars, moving with the calm demeanor of seasoned farmers.

Indeed, all the soldiers were commoners from Luoyang, and along the route, people called out blessings and encouragements. Some were friends, some brothers, some parents, and even young maidens trailing the banners, scattering flowers for their betrothed and loudly proclaiming vows of love and life-and-death loyalty.

Such a scene was rare. Even Liu Xian, originally indifferent, was moved by the crowd’s enthusiasm and wanted to see the army’s commander. Using his status as young master, he rode atop Zhu Fu’s shoulders, scanning the ranks.

After about half an hour, Liu Xian finally spotted Ma Long beneath a two-zhang-high (about 6.6 meters) banner bearing a flying tiger. Ma Long wore no armor, dressed simply in bluish-white robes, mounted on a sorrel horse with a flowing tail. He rode slowly through the ranks, issuing orders to keep the troops disciplined and avoid colliding with civilians. Though distant, Liu Xian could make out the smile on his face and the gentle, humble temperament beneath his burly frame.

As the crowd thickened, the army’s progress slowed. Ma Long did not drive the civilians away but ordered the central guard to play military music. At the solemn blast of the horn, the soldiers’ expressions grew grave. On command, they began singing a stirring military anthem:

“On the path of the illustrious Emperor Zhonghua,
Though barbarians may not revere,
The Xu Yi rise like Zhou,
The Gui Fang defy Yin.

Now in a prosperous age,
Bandits ravage the western borders.
Wolves and jackals sharpen their claws,
Creatures cry beneath the vast heavens.

The commander unites Hua and Xia,
Leading chariots to pacify Liang and Qin.
The righteous abide by law,
True judgment lies with the people.

Might and trust extend to strangers,
Even distant lands feel kinship.
Simple wine lacks flavor,
Yet shared cloth conveys deep compassion.

Martial virtue ceases conflict,
The seven virtues bring peace to the people.
From this cause, distant lands are reached,
Forever free of dust and wind.”

This anthem was specially composed by Zhang Hua, Minister of Finance, for this expedition, marking the first time the Jin army publicly sang such a song. Though most commoners did not grasp the lofty ideals in the lyrics, it did not hinder their sense of the soldiers’ resolve to defend the homeland. Entranced, they gradually parted to clear the way.

After the western expeditionary force departed, Liu Xian and his companions prepared to return. Along the way, Zhang Gu and Xi An chatted about what they had seen, while Liu Xian remained silent, head bowed.

Noticing this, Zhang Gu patted Liu Xian’s shoulder with a laugh. “Hey, why so quiet? What are you thinking?”

Liu Xian replied, “I’m wondering if the Protector of the Pacification Army will succeed.”

At that moment, a sudden voice came from behind him: “Is that even a question? The previous imperial army sent to reclaim Liangzhou numbered seventy or eighty thousand at least. Ma Long only brought three thousand. Even a general like Wen Yang could only check Tufa Shujineng’s power; how could Ma Long surpass him?”

Liu Xian turned to see a boy in fine clothes, about his age, flanked by three guards. The boy looked familiar, and after a moment, Liu Xian realized who he was. “It’s you!”

The newcomer was Shi Chao, son of an influential noble whom Liu Xian had met at Sunset Pavilion last year.

As a descendant of the eight founding dukes, Shi Chao exuded an imposing aura even at his young age, intimidating strangers. He smiled at Liu Xian and continued, “My father says Ma Long has never fought a battle. He’s just read some of Zhuge Liang’s military treatises and arrogantly considers himself the second Zhuge Liang. But there aren’t that many Zhuge Liangs in the world. Most likely, he’s just a Ma Su.”

Though Liu Xian was currently studying the *Annals of Han*, he had some knowledge of history several decades past. He knew Ma Su had foolishly lost the strategic Jieting and understood Shi Chao’s subtle insult.

But to Liu Xian, the comparison was absurd, and after a moment, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” Shi Chao glanced at him sideways.

“I think you’re wrong,” Liu Xian said, suppressing his smile. “I believe the Protector of the Pacification Army will win.”

“Ma Su’s defense of Jieting was merely Zhuge Liang’s temporary strategy. Ma Su lacked independent command experience,” Shi Chao replied.

“But the Protector of the Pacification Army has recruited and trained his own troops for months. We both saw their formation—united, determined, and resolute. That alone surpasses Ma Su by far. How could they be the same?”

Shi Chao considered this, admitting some truth, but remained unconvinced. “Even if he’s better than Ma Su, he has only 3,500 men. Does he think he can fight ten to one?”

This struck a chord, and Liu Xian spoke confidently:

“During Emperor Wu’s reign, Li Ling led five thousand elite soldiers deep into the Junqi Mountains, battling thirty thousand Xiongnu for over ten days. They killed over ten thousand enemies before surrendering due to depleted supplies. Why? Because the Han soldiers were well-armed and well-trained.”

“Chen Tang said that as long as armor and weapons are adequate, one Han soldier can equal five barbarians. The Protector of the Pacification Army commands brave men, the emperor has supplied the finest armor and three years’ provisions. His conditions far surpass those of Li Ling. How could the Xianbei’s strength compare to the ancient Xiongnu?”

“Moreover, military strategy warns that overconfident troops always lose. Tufa Shujineng’s successes likely stem from underestimating the Protector of the Pacification Army. If they attack with such arrogance, I predict their defeat!”

When Liu Xian finished, Zhang Gu and Xi An were stunned. Usually playful and indifferent to study, they could hardly believe how much the young master had changed in just over a year—speaking so confidently and knowledgeably before strangers.

Shi Chao, too, was impressed. Gone was the disdain he once showed, replaced by respect. He stepped forward, clasped Liu Xian’s arm, and laughed, “Well, well, I didn’t expect this. You’re quite something.”

“Come to my house sometime,” Shi Chao invited. “I plan to become a great general like my grandfather, but I still need a few advisors.”

Unexpectedly, this outing not only let Liu Xian witness the army’s departure but also gain a new friend. Smiling, he casually asked, “Advisor, huh? Sure! But what would I be advising on?”

Shi Chao glanced around conspiratorially and leaned in: “My father says the emperor will launch a campaign against Wu at the end of this year. No matter what anyone says, it can’t be stopped. You and I should strategize—what are the nation’s chances?”