Chapter 133

In Chengdu, there were more than a few waiting for me. Most were within my expectations, but occasionally, invitations from unexpected figures caught my eye. Lady Xu, the mother-in-law, was one thing, but what about Chao Zhu? Liu Bei wasn’t too fond of him, but Zhuge Liang, who leaned towards meritocracy, highly valued his scholarly abilities and granted him the position of Quanxue Congshi under the authority of the Yi Province Governor.

Recently, while receiving teachings on the Eight Array Formation, I’ve grown somewhat closer to Zhuge Liang, though not as close as with Liu Bei. Despite falling out of Liu Bei’s favor, Chao Zhu, recommended by Zhuge Liang, had risen to an official position. Why would he summon me?

“Probably just a formal invitation to announce his new position,” I thought. After all, wasn’t there something like a formal greeting ceremony in the Joseon Dynasty? It’s likely just a way to inform everyone that he’s taken office.

Aside from invitations from Lady Xu and Chao Zhu, there was someone I truly never expected. The first person I visited upon arriving in Chengdu wasn’t Zhuge Liang, but that unexpected figure.

“His name is Jun,” I was told. Zhang Jun, the son of my half-brother Zhang Po, my nephew. A tiny life, lighter than armor when held in my arms. Unafraid of strangers, Zhang Jun gazed at me with bright eyes, then smiled sweetly.

Though anyone would find a baby’s smile adorable, I couldn’t purely rejoice. Zhang Jun’s birth was undoubtedly a blessing, but the birth of one generation often signifies the passing of another. Unfortunately, Zhang Po, his father, belonged to the latter.

Our father, Zhang Fei, had passed away early, and Zhang Po, with a bitter smile, had once asked me, “Ran, I have a favor to ask. Will you listen?”

I already knew what it was. “Please, speak.”

And as expected, Zhang Po’s request was what everyone had anticipated. “If I die, I want you to take care of my son.”

“…Why say such things? You should recover your health and watch Jun grow up by his side.”

Despite my encouragement, Zhang Po shook his head slowly, as if accepting his fate. “I know my body. I feel every day that my time is short. It’s an irresponsible request, but please, consider it the last wish of a dying man.”

His words were filled with a father’s poignant love for his son. That’s why I couldn’t readily agree. “I’m a soldier destined to roam the outskirts. My second brother, with his deep knowledge and stable position, would be better suited to care for Jun.”

“That’s why I’m asking you. From what I’ve seen, Jun seems more suited to be a military officer than a scholar. He’s inherited much of our father’s blood—strong and spirited.”

Indeed, Zhang Jun was born robust. In history, he lived up to the title of Zhang Fei’s grandson, dying heroically in the final battle against Wei. Reflecting on his death, the baby in my arms no longer felt like just a child.

“Alright. But if Jun wishes to pursue a different path, I’ll gladly allow it.”

“That’s enough. Thank you. I’ve given you nothing, yet always receive. I’m always sorry.”

Zhang Po clasped my hand with his thin ones. New meetings bring farewells, but even without forming deep familial bonds like with my parents or Yeon-yi, the thought of not seeing him again weighed heavily on my heart.

He said it was enough, but how could it be? Surely, Zhang Po wished to live longer too. “Does the existence of a child ease regrets?”

Thinking of the impending farewell, my mind grew cluttered with thoughts. Returning home, my mother greeted me alone. Yeon-yi’s absence was glaring. Selected as the Crown Princess, she had entered the imperial palace.

Spending time alone with my mother was precious, but it couldn’t fill the void. In my relentless pursuit forward, I had overlooked many things. Gaining something often means giving up something else.

“Sleep won’t come easily tonight,” I thought, as the night deepened with contemplation.

§

Yesterday was spent resting from the journey back to Chengdu and spending time with family, but today, it was time to return to my duties as a general.

The former Rear General’s Office in Chengdu, now renamed the Commander Wei’s Office, remained my workplace. “Though my duties mostly involve submitting reports,” I mused.

The military affairs of the Commander Wei’s Office were handled by Bi Yi and Kang Yu, while the training and rewards distribution for soldiers were managed by my subordinates.

“Middle management shouldn’t micromanage everything. That’s just Zhuge Liang being peculiar,” I thought, justifying my approach.

“Are you inside, Mingjing?” came a voice.

“Yes, Prime Minister! Please, come in!”

What? I hadn’t heard Zhuge Liang was coming! Thankfully, I didn’t voice my thoughts, but I couldn’t help but feel nervous, as if he might read my mind.

“Why so nervous? Like you’ve committed a crime.”

“No, Prime Minister.”

Unlike when I persuaded Seomak, Zhuge Liang now spoke as a superior. Once a Military General under Liu Bei, he was now the Prime Minister, the second most powerful in Han.

“What brings you here? I hadn’t received any notice.”

“Strange. Must we always have business to meet? Aren’t we comrades who’ve shared sincere devotion?”

What’s going on? Through Seomak’s matter, I’ve grown closer to Zhuge Liang, especially after discussing the Eight Array Formation. But it seems he feels a deeper connection than I do.

That workaholic Zhuge Liang, despite his position, personally coming to see me? Unthinkable.

“Actually, there’s something I want to discuss and hear your thoughts on.”

“Military reforms, I presume.”

“Exactly, Mingjing. As expected.”

It’s about time. The Liu Bei army, and by extension, the Han army, had been operating somewhat haphazardly. More like a private militia than a national army.

Even my Lanling Army was seen more as Chang-ran’s troops than central forces. The perception of central armies was weak, with stronger identities tied to individual generals like Guan Yu, Chang-ran, and Ma Chao.

This militia-like system persisted due to constant warfare. With everyone bracing for the next battle, reforming the military was postponed.

But now, with all three kingdoms avoiding war, it’s the right time. “I agree it’s time for reforms.”

“Good. The plan is to divide the army into local and central forces, with the central army further split into four armies and a central guard, totaling five.”

This structure was somewhat in place since Liu Bei became King of Hanzhong, but it needed formalization. Zhuge Liang aimed to solidify this framework.

“I have no objections.”

“The four armies will be under the Four Direction Generals, while the Supreme General, General at Gogi, Biaoqi General, and Commander Wei’s offices will remain separate.”

“Won’t it become too cumbersome?”

“Changing everything at once is difficult. And the talents of these generals aren’t just for a single front but for overall war command. Wasting that would be a national loss.”

So, the Lanling Army remains. Though I wonder if I truly belong alongside Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Ma Chao, if Zhuge Liang says so, it must be.

“There will also be changes regarding concurrent positions.”

“Separating military and administrative authority?”

“Correct. Until now, due to chaotic times, we combined them, but now we plan to separate them into military governors and civil administrators.”

This meant abolishing concurrent positions like Ma Chao’s Liang Province Governor, my Bing Province Governor, and my father’s Sili Colonel, establishing military governors and civil administrators instead.

“An appropriate measure.”

“Good. I’m relieved.”

This reform, while not full civilian control, aimed to limit military influence to warfare.

“Then we’ll discuss further details in the next council.”

With that, Zhuge Liang concluded the formal discussion. Now, onto the next topic—what he wanted to hear.

When Zhuge Liang spoke again, his tone shifted from formal to one filled with curiosity and excitement.

“So, what exactly is this Yuhua Formation?”