Chapter Three: When the Wind Rises

Chang’an.

During the reign of Emperor Guangwu, Chang’an served as the Western Capital, its status second only to the capital city, Luoyang. Subsequent emperors would journey to Chang’an to perform ancestral rites, designating Luoyang as the Eastern Capital and Chang’an as the Western Capital, a system akin to the later concept of subsidiary capitals.

At this moment, the towering city walls of Chang’an were lined with armored soldiers, each clad in battle-ready gear, eyes sharp and vigilant. A palpable aura of deadly resolve hung over the ramparts, unmistakably marking them as battle-hardened elite troops.

These elite forces stood guard on the walls, scrutinizing the crowded city gates below where common folk came and went.

Above the gate stood a lofty watchtower, where a general clad in gleaming silver armor stood like a spear planted firmly against the wind. Upon closer inspection, the general’s temples were streaked with gray. His resolute, stern face bore a pair of eagle-like eyes fixed upon the east—the direction of Luoyang.

This was Gai Xun, the Prefect of Jingzhao, entrusted with the defense of Chang’an.

Gai Xun gazed toward Luoyang, where his most trusted lord, Emperor Liu Hong of the Han dynasty, had long since passed away. Unlike others, he bore deep gratitude toward the late emperor, believing the sovereign had recognized his worth—a debt that fueled his unwavering loyalty to the Han.

At the time of the emperor’s death, Gai Xun was commanding troops stationed in Chang’an. The situation now filled him with regret. Luoyang was in turmoil under Dong Zhuo, who had thrown the court into chaos—deposing the young emperor and installing the puppet Emperor Xian. To make matters worse, a summons had arrived, ordering Gai Xun and Huangfu Song to return to the capital to serve as advisors.

Everyone with eyes could see this was a deadly gambit by Dong Zhuo. The thirty thousand elite soldiers under Gai Xun and Huangfu Song were his greatest threat.

If Gai Xun and Huangfu Song obeyed and returned, their military power would be stripped away, turning them into toothless tigers. If they refused, they would be branded rebels, and Dong Zhuo would lead his forces to crush them.

Gai Xun and Huangfu Song were likely among the very few remaining loyal ministers of the Han dynasty. If Dong Zhuo stripped them of their power, the hope for restoring the Han would fade even further.

At that moment, another general emerged from the watchtower behind Gai Xun, clad in dark purple-black armor. A vibrant red cloak billowed behind him like a banner in the wind.

He approached Gai Xun and removed his shining silver helmet, revealing a rugged face framed by thick brows and sharp eyes that commanded respect without needing to raise his voice.

This was Huangfu Song, the Left General stationed in Chang’an.

“What do you make of the summons from Luoyang?” Gai Xun asked without turning, his gaze still fixed on the distant, unreachable Luoyang, his eyes as deep as an ancient well.

“This is a checkmate.” Huangfu Song’s voice was low and grave. “What’s your plan to survive? If we don’t go, we’re dead. If we do, there might be a slim chance.”

“But you know, if we do go, the hope of revitalizing the Han will grow even dimmer.” Gai Xun withdrew his gaze and faced Huangfu Song, his expression a tangle of emotions.

“Yi Zhen,” Huangfu Song said softly, using Gai Xun’s courtesy name, “in these troubled times, do we preserve ourselves or sacrifice for the world?”

Huangfu Song fell silent, uncertain how to answer. He could plead for the people or die for the sovereign. But now… the sovereign was no sovereign, the nation no nation. How could he stabilize the world if he could not even protect himself?

“So, where is the Han today? Where is the realm?” After a long pause, Huangfu Song finally spoke, his voice laden with helplessness, as if decades had passed in an instant. His question was not only for Gai Xun but for himself as well.

Gai Xun looked at this once formidable general, who had terrified countless Yellow Turban rebels in his prime, his eyes reflecting complexity. Yet when he recalled the two silk letters brought by Consort Fu the day before, his gaze slowly steadied.

“As long as the sovereign remains, the realm remains; as long as the Han endures, so does the world!”

“Where is the sovereign?”

“The current Son of Heaven!” Gai Xun answered with resolute certainty.

“The current Son of Heaven is but a boy yet to be crowned, and one installed by the traitor Dong Zhuo…” Huangfu Song opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by Gai Xun.

“Left General Huangfu Song, receive the edict!” Gai Xun suddenly unfurled a crimson-yellow silk scroll from his hand.

“I am at your service!” Huangfu Song almost instinctively knelt on one knee to accept the decree.

“The edict states: I am pleased to hear…”

…

“Gai Yuangu, you sly one! This is merely a silk letter! How dare you trick me into calling it an edict!” Huangfu Song’s voice rang out in frustration atop the city tower.

The surrounding guards on the walls trembled slightly, suppressing smiles. Their General Huangfu had fallen for the Prefect’s ruse once again.

“A single spark can start a prairie fire…” Huangfu Song murmured, deeply pondering the words within the letter.

The more he read, the more shocked he became. The letter meticulously analyzed the fragile and doomed state of the so-called twenty-thousand-strong coalition army from the east. It even foretold the coming chaos: Dong Zhuo’s death and the ensuing struggle among warlords.

The phrase “Everyone must die; some deaths are lighter than a feather, some heavier than Mount Tai” struck deeply into Huangfu Song’s heart.

“I wish to worry before the world worries, and to enjoy joy after the world enjoys joy. I only wish for this realm to be free from war, for the people to live without fear…”

Upon reading this final line, Huangfu Song was stunned. Could such words truly be written by a boy yet uncrowned? Suddenly, he glimpsed the future of the Han dynasty within this young sovereign.

Having finished the letter, Huangfu Song was overwhelmed with astonishment, unsure how to describe his feelings. From this letter, he seemed to see a rising imperial star.

Unlike the various warlords who rose for their own greed, the late Han’s chaos was nothing but a bitter contest for power.

“How do you feel?” Gai Xun fixed his gaze on Huangfu Song’s complex expression.

“The Han still has hope!” After a long moment, Huangfu Song’s eyes hardened with resolve as he declared.

“Ha ha ha, Yi Zhen! I never doubted you!” Gai Xun laughed heartily, his voice full of pride and joy. He knew his comrade well.

“Hmph! Yuangu, you must have planned all this long ago!” Huangfu Song shot a glare.

“I believe you will make the same choice as I have.” Gai Xun looked at Huangfu Song, his gaze pure and natural. Truth be told, he still gambled somewhat—when it comes to life and death, no one is certain to choose righteousness.

Huangfu Song studied him deeply, then after a moment of thought, asked, “What do you think of the strategy the sovereign laid out?”

Even Huangfu Song was stunned by the depth and foresight of the boy emperor’s plans. This was a strategy to unify the realm.

“The sovereign’s wisdom and foresight far exceed ours!” Gai Xun sighed. Though he had met the young emperor only a few times, the boy had already won his heart.

“If so, then we shall act according to the sovereign’s instructions! Having half my life behind me, this remaining breath shall be for the Han!” Huangfu Song stated with unwavering determination.

“Are you ready to depart for Luoyang?” Gai Xun looked at the veteran general, a pang of sorrow stirring within.

“Ha ha ha! In my prime, I crushed the Yellow Turbans, chased bandits three thousand miles, executed Zhang Bao, and built the capital’s watchtowers to stabilize the world! Is this challenge to be feared? If His Majesty commands, how could I betray his trust!” Huangfu Song laughed boldly, full of pride and carefree spirit.

Gai Xun’s expression turned solemn as he saluted solemnly. “Brother Yi Zhen, dangers lie ahead! Take care.”

Huangfu Song’s smile faded as he returned the salute seriously. “Brother Yuangu, take care!” Then he donned his helmet and turned away.

“I await your victorious news here in Chang’an, Brother Yi Zhen!” Gai Xun called after him. Huangfu Song paused briefly before striding down from the tower.

“Men! Prepare the horses!” After Huangfu Song’s figure disappeared, Gai Xun began organizing the preparations.

At his command, from the shadows of the nearby watchtower emerged a soldier clad entirely in black armor, moving silently like a ghost beneath the bright sun.

Any noble in Chang’an would recognize this black-armored figure—an operative of the Shadow Guard.

This was Gai Xun’s Shadow Guard, the one-in-a-thousand elite of the army, the unseen protectors looming over all of Chang’an’s powerful.

“Sir! Where are you headed?”

“Liangzhou.” Gai Xun’s eyes were calm, but his tone was icy. “No one must know my whereabouts. Keep a tight watch over Chang’an. If there is any disturbance, kill on sight.”

“Understood.” The Shadow Guard vanished back into the darkness without a trace.

Gai Xun once again looked eastward toward Luoyang, where the young sovereign sat in a simple horse-drawn carriage, journeying toward Chang’an.

Liu Xie traveled with the migrating masses. Though the distance from Luoyang to Chang’an was only a few hundred miles, the journey would take at least five days. Time seemed long, but the window available to Gai Xun was growing perilously short.

He recalled the previous day when Fu Shou had rushed to Chang’an with the silk letter. Upon reading it, Gai Xun was as shaken as Huangfu Song was now.

The letter’s content was like that of a seasoned strategist. Were it not for the unmistakable sincerity embedded within, no one would believe it was penned by a mere boy.

For the first time, Gai Xun felt profound curiosity about this youth. Anyone with such vision and strategy would surely become a sage ruler.

…

Several hundred miles away, Liu Xie sneezed, muttering softly.

“Who is it that misses me so…”

Fu Shou, standing nearby, grew worried. “Everyone, are we catching a cold?” She adjusted the fox-fur cloak over Liu Xie’s shoulders. Early spring brought warmth, but the chill still lingered, especially on the road.

Touched by Fu Shou’s care, Liu Xie kissed her cheek, causing her face to flush as she shyly looked away. Watching her like a beloved daughter, Liu Xie chuckled softly.

“By the way, Shou’er, did you find out if anyone rides inside the imperial carriage?” he asked with a smile.

Fu Shou lifted her head, cheeks still rosy. “I sent our steward to inquire. No one has ever been seen delivering meals to the carriage. It’s likely empty.”

Liu Xie smiled faintly, just as he expected. According to the records, Dong Zhuo had arranged for Liu Xie’s relocation to Chang’an while secretly remaining in Luoyang himself.

“Dong Zhuo is indeed a cautious man,” Liu Xie remarked.

Hearing his laughter, Fu Shou suddenly asked, “Did everyone send me to deliver the silk letter to Uncle Gai and them to seek help?”

Though a girl uninterested in politics, Fu Shou was perceptive. Liu Xie smiled, realizing Shou’er was not just beautiful but clever. She would not be a mere ornament by his side.

“Yes!” Liu Xie readily admitted. It was better she knew.

“But in these times, will Uncle Gai and the others dare to help us and risk offending Dong Zhuo?” Fu Shou’s eyes held doubt.

Liu Xie smiled with quiet confidence, trusting his knowledge and understanding.

Hao Jing once praised Gai Xun: “Gai Xun of Dunhuang, deeply understands righteousness, distinguishing public from private, never sacrificing the public for personal gain, nor compromising the nation for self-interest—a true gentleman! His integrity and selflessness are a tale for the ages!”

Ouyang Xun praised Huangfu Song: “In the past, he served Longqiu, achieved deeds at Dong Commandery, the Grand Commandant split the territory at Hua Li, and the Minister of Works cultivated the lands at E Men.”

Such commendations, combined with their recorded deeds, assured Liu Xie of their loyalty. They were among the few remaining generals truly devoted to the Han—hence why he entrusted his strategy to them.

“They will help.”

“Then how can I assist?” Fu Shou looked into Liu Xie’s eyes earnestly. She did not want to be a mere decoration. Liu Xie was her husband; she wished to aid him.

Feeling her sincerity, Liu Xie pondered and said, “There is something I need you to do, but not just yet.”

“What is it? When will you tell me?”

Seeing Shou’er pout in confusion, Liu Xie pulled her into his arms, feeling the gentle spring breeze. He said nothing more, only softly: “The wind is rising…”

When the wind rises, the rain is sure to follow.