By the small pond outside Pan Garden, a crowd bustled about, busy with their tasks.
Servants, laborers, and soldiers had all been mobilized to dredge the pond and clear the silt during the shallow winter waters.
It wasn’t a pleasant job, but it was necessary.
The dredged silt could be used to fertilize the fields, and the increased capacity of the pond, which served as a natural reservoir, would hold more rainwater for irrigation.
Come spring, they would sow additional crops on idle fields to boost grain production.
"Plop!" Shao Xun released the clamp, and a carp leaped out of the mud, landing on the grass and flopping about.
Squad Leader Huang Biao grinned, stepping forward to pick up the fish and toss it into a basin.
Inside the wooden basin, loaches and small fish darted about, blowing bubbles.
Mao Er squatted nearby, counting them one by one.
Another squad leader, Zhang Heigou, stared intently at the fish, his Adam’s apple bobbing unconsciously.
Behind him, two youths were already cleaning the fish.
Wiping their noses, they skillfully scaled the fish and gutted them.
Further away, two more boys happily carried the cleaned fish, ready to make soup.
"Jin San and Wang Que'er are in for a treat. Take good care of them, don’t be careless," Shao Xun said, stomping his feet to shake off the mud from his waterlogged clothes.
Jin San and Wang Que'er were soldiers in his unit, aged eleven and thirteen—still children.
They had fallen ill a couple of days ago and were now recuperating in the camp.
In these troubled times, getting some nourishing fish was no easy task.
It was only because they were dredging the pond today that they had this opportunity.
"Yes, sir!" The two boys saluted and quickly ran off.
The other youths nearby, busy hauling mud, smiled and worked with renewed vigor.
Indeed, their usual meals were extremely simple—gruel made from unground wheat grains, bland and unappetizing.
But they didn’t mind.
They had never tasted the delicacies enjoyed by the nobility.
Seeing their injured or sick comrades well cared for, they felt no jealousy.
Everyone fell ill or got hurt at some point.
If Jin San and Wang Que'er could enjoy such treatment now, they might too in the future.
The golden sunlight felt warmer on their skin.
Their unit felt like a comfortable place to be.
Their leader, Shao Xun, was capable.
He taught them to read and write, and even selected a few bright ones to learn arithmetic.
For those who struggled, he didn’t force them but tailored his teaching to their strengths.
The strong were trained in martial arts—swords, spears, and bows—to increase their chances of survival in battle.
The meticulous ones handled logistics, organizing and distributing supplies.
The quick-footed served as messengers or couriers.
Shao Xun was skilled in many areas, especially martial arts.
He was fair and commanded respect.
He was also kind, tucking in blankets during night inspections and finding ways to get fish for the sick or injured.
The boys joked privately that Shao Xun was like a "father," leading a group of "adopted sons."
They called themselves the "Adopted Sons Army."
But it was just a joke.
Most of them had parents, and adopting a new father would require their consent.
"Splash!" Shao Xun waded back into the water to continue dredging.
A dozen boys followed, working while playing with river clams, laughing and enjoying themselves.
Despite months of rigorous military training, they were still children at heart.
Playfulness was in their nature.
In contrast, children from noble families were like little adults, studying various subjects and learning to be shrewd from a young age.
Shao Xun remembered visiting the Yu family four months ago.
He heard their six-year-old daughter could already write poetry.
She would surely grow up to be a talented woman.
It was impressive.
He was almost sixteen and could read, but he couldn’t write poetry.
But then again, the best educational resources were monopolized by the nobility.
Unless you were like Cao Cao, who forcibly recruited impoverished scholars to teach the children of fallen soldiers, ordinary people had little chance of education.
Moreover, in these chaotic times, while literacy was important, it wasn’t as crucial as before.
Shao Xun’s focus was on surviving and thriving in this turbulent world.
After finishing the day’s work and returning to camp, a few officials from the Minister of Works arrived, delivering a batch of writing materials.
Shao Xun was secretly pleased.
His efforts to flatter the princess hadn’t been in vain—it was paying off.
Among the officials was an old acquaintance, Liu Qia, and another named Wang Dao, from the prestigious Langya Wang family.
Wang Dao had served under Liu Shi as the Eastern Pavilion Libationer and had recently been recruited by Sima Yue as a staff officer.
Liu Qia looked puzzled, as if surprised that Shao Xun was still alive and well.
Wang Dao, however, remained calm, merely glancing at Shao Xun a few times before leaving without a word.
A mere soldier wasn’t worth his attention.
Shao Xun carefully stored the writing materials.
Writing on the ground was inefficient and inconvenient.
Afterward, he stepped outside the barracks to watch the sunset.
The weather had been good these past few days.
Though chilly, the sun warmed them.
Taking advantage of the clear skies, Pan Garden had reinforced its walls and even added wooden watchtowers, giving it the appearance of a small fortress.
Outside the walls, the pond had been dredged and deepened, irrigation channels repaired, and overgrown fields cleared, ready for spring planting.
Their efforts were modest, but they were filled with hope.
Yes, hope.
Shao Xun even began to imagine next summer and autumn, when the fields would be ripe with grain, the vegetable plots lush with greens, and the grapevines heavy with fruit.
They could dry grapes, make wine, and by early winter, slaughter pigs and sheep.
The fish in the pond would grow fat and plentiful.
This was hope—the most beautiful thing in these troubled times.
"Thud! Thud!"
Blood sprayed as several heads rolled to the ground.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Amidst deafening cries, men, women, and children fled in all directions.
Blades and arrows showed no mercy.
A young girl in her prime was struck multiple times, screaming as she fell.
A clueless child was sent flying by an arrow, pinned to the ground.
He didn’t even have time to cry out, blood foaming at his mouth as his tiny hands clutched at the air, as if reaching for his mother.
An old man was knocked down, trampled by countless boots, and soon fell silent.
The streets before the palace were ablaze, filled with the sounds of slaughter.
The sons of the Sima family had reached the point of no return.
That morning, Sima Yi of Changsha had stormed the palace, taken the emperor and officials hostage, and declared Sima Jiong of Qi a traitor.
No one knew how he had done it.
Why hadn’t the palace guards stopped him?
Why hadn’t the imperial guards killed Sima Yi? He had only a hundred followers, yet most of the guards had dispersed, with a few joining him.
Sima Jiong of Qi, furious, ordered his trusted general Dong Ai to attack the palace with two thousand men.
Sima Yi, ruthless, used the emperor, empress, and officials as human shields, marching out of the palace to attack Sima Jiong’s residence.
West of the palace, arrows flew, and flames roared.
The Northern Army Commander ordered the gates of Luoyang closed, barring outside troops.
But Sima Jiong and Sima Yi both had followers distributing money, recruiting desperate men, and the conflict escalated, spreading wider.
On the 25th, the battlefield shifted near the Shangdong Gate.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!" Arrows whistled through the air, and screams echoed.
The emperor (Emperor Hui of Jin) fell from his carriage, trembling, a foul smell emanating from his pants.
Before him, a dozen officials lay dead or wounded.
An arrow quivered in the carriage.
Empress Yang Xianrong stared blankly at the arrow that had narrowly missed her.
She knew the empire was in chaos.
She knew the emperor was little more than a puppet.
She knew the officials had their own agendas.
She knew…
But she never imagined that as empress, she would come so close to death.
Sima Yi had no regard for the emperor or empress, using them as shields.
Sima Jiong had no regard for them either, firing arrows at the imperial carriage.
In that moment, her composure shattered.
Was the empress, the mother of the nation, any different from the commoners lying dead in the streets?
This barrage of arrows stripped the imperial family of all dignity.
From now on, they were mere pawns in the hands of the princes and warlords.
Would the governors and prefects still show respect to puppets? Would they continue sending tribute to the capital?
The consequences of this attack were far more severe than anyone imagined.
"Empress, save me!" Another arrow flew past, and the terrified emperor instinctively tried to pull the empress in front of him.
Yang Xianrong gently shook him off.
"If you can’t protect your wife and child, what kind of man are you?"
Arrows continued to fly, but she no longer cared.
Facing death, she had an epiphany.
Something inside her had broken, irreparably.
"Empress, why say such things…" The emperor was stunned, even ashamed.
Yang Xianrong gave him a disdainful look.
She had once thought all men were more or less the same.
If she couldn’t find the perfect one, she might as well choose someone she liked.
What did she like?
Handsome, scholarly, dignified, and graceful.
If not that, then someone from a noble family who could bring her prestige and wealth.
But on this battlefield, with arrows flying, she realized she had been wrong—terribly wrong.
These were not real men!
In the face of life and death, the true man was the one who could shield her from danger, who could protect her.
She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
She felt changed.
Perhaps it wasn’t just her.
This world was changing everyone’s beliefs, in the cruelest way possible.
"We’ve lost! We’ve lost!" Chaotic shouts came from Sima Jiong’s side.
Sima Yi’s troops, emboldened, charged forward with newfound ferocity.
The internal strife seemed to be nearing its end.
But did this really mean it was over? No, perhaps it was just the beginning of another cycle.
(End of Chapter)