Chapter 187

After returning to Chang’an, Guan Yu’s funeral was held. Although Guan Ping was the chief mourner, it was practically Liu Bei who presided over the ceremony.

The Imperial Family took charge of the funeral proceedings, drawing the attention of not just Chang’an but the entire Han Dynasty to Guan Yu’s funeral.

Guan Yu’s funeral hall was bustling with activity. Officials from Chang’an and the surrounding Guanzhong region came in turns to pay their respects. Even representatives from the provinces under Han control—Yi, Xiang, Yong, and Liang—sent condolence delegations.

Unlike Cao Cao’s death, which saw condolences from both Han and Wu, no foreign delegations came for Guan Yu. Wei, the state responsible for Guan Yu’s death, naturally did not send anyone, and Wu, now a clear enemy, had no reason to send condolences either.

Though it was a Han-only funeral, the scale was grand, almost befitting a state funeral. While the rites followed the protocols for a feudal lord, the fact that Emperor Liu Bei wore mourning clothes and guarded the funeral hall elevated it beyond a typical lord’s funeral.

Liu Bei, upon hearing reports of Guan Yu’s uprising, had an intuition and rushed from Chengdu to Chang’an with a reduced entourage.

Amid the funeral, Liu Bei let Guan Ping, the chief mourner, handle the visitors while he sat silently by the coffin, gazing at Guan Yu’s remains.

The funeral procession had not yet begun, and Liu Bei remained in the hall where Guan Yu’s body was kept.

Time passed. Night deepened. The last chirps of summer crickets filled the air, but the funeral hall was enveloped in silence.

Nothing moved except for the smoke rising from the incense burner.

The crowd that had filled the hall to pay respects had dwindled, leaving only a handful of people.

Liu Bei sat in the center of the hall, staring blankly at Guan Yu’s grave.

Behind him stood his father, motionless as a statue.

To the side, Guan Ping, the chief mourner, kept a sleepless vigil.

Though Guan Yu’s immediate family—his wife and daughter—had not yet arrived, his relatives guarded his body, unwilling to leave while his remains were still in this world.

And so did I. As his nephew, I stood silently behind my father, waiting for Guan Yu’s spirit to ascend to heaven and his body to return to the earth.

The seemingly endless silence was suddenly broken.

Liu Bei’s voice, hoarse from long wailing, echoed.

“I have thought very carefully… and very deeply.”

His voice was slow and low, but it carried a heart-wrenching intensity.

“I must avenge Yunchang.”

His voice, initially restrained, grew louder, filling the serene hall with tension.

“Ping, I cannot live under the same sky as those who killed your father.”

Though he addressed Guan Ping, the words were also for himself.

“Lan, I want to fulfill the unfinished task your uncle left behind and soothe his wandering soul.”

Guan Yu’s last ambition—the capture of Luoyang. Liu Bei sought to avenge him by taking Luoyang from their sworn enemies and making it Guan Yu’s altar.

Not for the revival of Han, but to soothe the soul of one man—Guan Yu.

For Liu Bei, avenging his brother’s grudge was more important than the grand ambition of restoring Han.

“Yide, I will make those who took our brother shed tears of blood.”

Liu Bei’s tone was calm, not the passionate voice of someone consumed by emotion, but a flat voice that nonetheless carried immense anger and hatred.

Was this how Liu Bei was before the Battle of Yiling?

He seemed oddly composed, but upon closer inspection, his calm had shattered.

A coldly burning flame. Liu Bei’s anger eerily resembled that of his lifelong rival, Cao Cao, whom he had lived in opposition to.

Liu Bei continued speaking, not expecting an answer from Guan Ping, me, or my father.

“Prime Minister, Grand Commandant, and Censor-in-Chief, the Three Dukes all speak with one voice. Please remain calm. The time is not yet right. When the time comes, we will lead the charge for vengeance.”

Indeed, our situation was not conducive to further war. Public sentiment, dwindling supplies, and the fatigue of our troops—there were countless reasons to oppose war.

Zhuge Liang, Pang Tong, and Yu Pa—the Three Dukes who upheld Han’s stability—were formidable, but even they could not stop Liu Bei.

“All lies. When is this ‘right time’? After they’ve fully prepared? When Yunchang’s death is forgotten by the world? How could they ever take the initiative to avenge him? I think of Yunchang at sunrise and at moonrise.”

I closed my eyes. Was the Battle of Yiling inevitable?

Even though Guan Yu had met a more peaceful end than his tragic capture and execution at the hands of an unknown Wu general, Liu Bei’s anger remained.

Why hadn’t Guan Yu, in his final words to Guan Ping and my father, told Liu Bei to calm his anger? For a moment, I felt a slight resentment toward the departed Guan Yu.

If Liu Bei truly mobilized the nation’s strength for a bloody war, what were the chances of success? As I pondered the situation of the Three Kingdoms, Guan Ping spoke.

“As a son, I will fulfill my duty. And as a subject, I will follow Your Majesty’s will.”

If avenging his father was a son’s duty, Guan Ping was ready to shoulder that burden. If Liu Bei declared a great war to avenge Guan Yu, Guan Ping would be the first to lead the charge.

As Guan Yu’s son, Guan Ping was Liu Bei’s justification for rejecting the Three Dukes’ advice and raising an army.

If my father, now the head of Han’s military, also followed Liu Bei’s will, the reenactment of the Battle of Yiling was inevitable.

I looked at my father. Considering the bond between the three brothers, my father would naturally follow Liu Bei’s will. But his expression was as calm as ever.

“Your Majesty, no, Brother. If we raise an army now, will it truly soothe Brother Yu’s soul? Can we capture Luoyang and make those who harmed Brother Yu pay? If so, I will gladly lead the troops and take the vanguard.”

Perhaps it was because he had witnessed Guan Yu’s final moments. Unlike Liu Bei, my father faced reality.

“But if not, raising an army now will not soothe Brother Yu’s soul. It will only leave a greater grudge, causing his soul to wander the Nine Springs.”

Success would bring everything, but failure would not just delay Guan Yu’s vengeance—it might close the door on any chance of it.

As my father expressed his concerns, Liu Bei, not entirely devoid of reason, paused.

After a while, Liu Bei spoke again, but his words were somewhat detached from the topic of avenging Guan Yu.

“I wanted to live as a gentleman. While Cao Cao championed dominance, I championed virtue. Confucius said the sage is supreme, but I could not follow that path, so I chose to be a gentleman. I enjoyed the three joys Mencius spoke of and lived by the principle of the gentleman’s transformation, navigating all storms.”

The three joys of a gentleman, as Mencius said:

The first joy is having brothers safe and sound. The second is looking up to heaven without shame and looking down at people without shame. The third is nurturing the world’s talents into great individuals.

Though his parents were gone, his brothers were with him.

Whether Liu Bei was truly upright is debatable, but no ruler in the land was as beloved by the people as he.

Talents nurtured under his leadership now held key positions in Han, so it could be said that Liu Bei enjoyed the three joys of a gentleman.

“Though I cannot confidently say I lived as a true gentleman, I can proudly say I followed the path of a gentleman.”

The people, righteousness, virtue.

Until now, Liu Bei had prioritized justice over personal desires, but this time, he chose his own selfish desire.

“But now, I can no longer call myself a gentleman. I have become the Emperor ruling the land, and I have lost my brother. Now I can say it: I am not a gentleman. I am Liu Bei.”

Liu Bei slowly rose from the spot he had guarded all day.

Standing tall before Guan Yu’s coffin, Liu Bei seemed both larger and smaller than ever before.

“They say a gentleman’s vengeance can wait ten years. But I am no gentleman, and I cannot wait ten years. That is too long.”

Turning to face me, Zhang Fei, and Guan Ping, Liu Bei declared:

“One year. In one year, we will raise an army. Next year, on Yunchang’s memorial altar, we will offer the heads of Sima Yi, Xiahou Shang, and Cao Pi to soothe his soul.”