Chapter Two: The Prophecy

Deng Hong sat cross-legged on the mat beneath the eaves, lost in deep thought. Had it been anyone else, he might have ignored their words, but Shen Chen was the genius of the Shen family—a child who spoke at the age of one and could recognize a thousand characters by three. The Shen clan was not a great family, possessing but a modest collection of books, all of which Shen Chen had devoured by the age of three.

Later, when Deng Hong heard that his grandniece had given birth to such a prodigy, he was greatly astonished and thus opened the Deng family’s library to Shen Chen. As one of the prominent clans of Xinye, the Dengs, before their flight, had taken with them a considerable trove of bamboo scrolls and texts, gradually forming the foundation of their family’s heritage.

Such books were the very roots of a lineage, never to be shown to outsiders. Even though Shen Chen was related by blood—being a grandnephew and grandson-in-law—his different surname would typically bar him from access.

Yet Shen Chen alone was permitted to enter the hall and peruse the family tomes, a testament to the elders’ recognition of his talent.

Still, for all his prodigious intellect, could a child so young truly discern the world’s great affairs? It was true that last year, Cao Cao had indeed slaughtered the people of Pengcheng, but many of those townsfolk had attached themselves to Tao Qian, and it was possible they were mistaken for his followers.

Moreover, even if Cao Cao was cruel and sought vengeance, would he truly vent his wrath upon the common folk?

Most importantly, their ancestral lands could not be lightly abandoned. The foundations of both the Dengs and the Shens lay in Huangmen Pavilion and the surrounding countryside.

As the saying goes, “A man is worth little away from his native land.” Without certainty that Cao Cao would slaughter indiscriminately, they could hardly heed the warnings of a child and forsake their homes and livelihoods to migrate south.

Thus, on Shen Chen’s previous visits, Deng Hong had always declined under various pretexts. But this time, Shen Chen had clearly come prepared, intent on persuading him with strong words and convening a council of the elders.

“Very well, speak your mind,” Deng Hong said. This time, seeing the boy’s grave expression, he did not immediately refuse, but continued, “I know you wish to persuade the family to migrate south, but convincing the elders will not be easy. At the very least, you must first convince me.”

Shen Chen straightened his posture, his expression severe. “Then allow me to discuss the state of the realm with you, Sixth Great-Uncle!”

Deng Hong’s demeanor grew equally solemn. “Go ahead.”

At this moment, he already regarded Shen Chen, with his air of precocious maturity, as an equal.

“Let us first speak of the root cause of the Han dynasty’s demise!”

Shen Chen’s words were as startling as thunder on a clear day.

No sooner had he spoken than Deng Hong rebuked him, “A-Chen, mind your tongue.”

“Then let us discuss the origins of the Yellow Turban Rebellion.”

Shen Chen’s gaze was piercing. “In the reigns of Emperor Huan and Emperor Ling, the powerful clans and gentry seized vast tracts of land, amassed wealth, appropriated fertile fields, and exploited the poor. In times of famine, the people suffered unspeakable misery—there was even cannibalism. The destitution of the common folk was the very soil from which Zhang Jiao’s uprising sprang!”

Here, he had touched upon two reasons for the fall of the Western and Eastern Han: land annexation and the hoarding of slaves.

Deng Hong, not a man of great learning, shook his head at Shen Chen’s argument. “Zhang Jiao was nothing more than a charlatan who bewitched the masses.”

“Then, Great-Uncle, how do you explain his raising an army of a million?” Shen Chen retorted. “If the people across the land were not already driven to desperation, why would they follow Zhang Jiao in rebellion? And what caused this suffering? Was it merely natural disaster? No, it was manmade calamity. Shi Dan once sought to limit land and slaves to save the former Han, but in the end, nothing changed. It is merely a repetition of the late Western Han.”

“Hmm...” Deng Hong was at a loss, and could only reply, “A-Chen, speak not such wild words. The imperial court still stands—how can you speak of the end times?”

Shen Chen pleaded earnestly, “Great-Uncle, for the sake of our family’s future, please do not spurn good counsel. I see in Cao Cao the ambition of a true hero. Xuzhou is like a tiger beside him—he will surely come to subdue it. Do you believe he comes only to avenge his father? He knows full well he cannot conquer Xuzhou by force, so to prevent others from gaining it and threatening his flank, he will leave not a chicken or dog alive!”

Deng Hong shook his head. “You speak with conviction, but the people of Xuzhou are subjects of the court. Such slaughter would enrage both Heaven and men. How could the court allow Cao Cao to act with impunity?”

Shen Chen replied coldly, “The Son of Heaven is in Chang’an, controlled by traitors Li Jue and Guo Si. How can the law reach Cao Cao now? And in the matter of Pengcheng, did Cao Cao not already commit slaughter? Has the court restrained him at all? Face reality—this is no longer the unified Han empire, but a lawless age of chaos!”

Deng Hong rebuked him harshly, “A-Chen, speak less of such treasonous things.”

Shen Chen sighed, “Great-Uncle, if you will not heed me, then allow me to make two or three predictions. If they prove true, will you summon a council of the elders?”

“If your predictions are accurate, I will do as you say,” Deng Hong promised readily.

Shen Chen began in earnest, “First, Tao Gongzu knows he cannot withstand Cao Cao and will surely seek aid. Yuan Shu is like a wolf—Tao Gongzu would never turn to him. Thus, looking around, his only option is to turn north to Kong Beihai. My first prediction: before long, Kong Beihai will lead troops south to help, perhaps joined by Liu Bei, the Administrator of Pingyuan.”

“Oh? Why?” Deng Hong was puzzled. “Why would the Administrator of Pingyuan be involved?”

“Great-Uncle pays little heed to current affairs, but I know that the affairs of the world inevitably affect the likes of us. That is why I daily linger by the roadside, questioning travelers for news. Kong Beihai was besieged last year at the hands of the Yellow Turban, Guan Hai, and called on Liu Bei of Pingyuan for rescue. At this moment, Governor Liu should be in Beihai.”

“I see.”

Deng Hong nodded. “And the second matter?”

Shen Chen spoke gravely, “The second is that Cao Cao will march south first, attacking from Xiapi to Donghai, rather than coming straight from Pengcheng to Shanyang County. Thus, we still have a chance to flee as a family. If you trust me, send skilled horsemen south to Xiapi to gather news. If Xiapi is slaughtered, that will prove my words true.”

“From the south first, then north?” Deng Hong, though not especially talented, understood that military campaigns had their own logic.

Shen Chen’s assertion that Cao Cao would strike Xiapi before attacking Donghai was perplexing—for everyone assumed that, seeking vengeance for his father, Cao Cao would come straight to Donghai’s Shanyang County to trouble Tao Qian.

Why, then, did he believe Cao Cao would bypass Donghai and target Xiapi?

Shen Chen explained, “Exactly. The Yuan family has, over four generations, produced three Grand Commandants, their renown resounding throughout the realm. Yet Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu are at odds, one in the north, the other in the south, locked in rivalry. Cao Cao has allied with Yuan Shao in the north, so his greatest enemy is not Tao Qian, but Yuan Shu of Huainan. Runan lies in ruins; if Yuan Shu wishes to grow in power, he must march north to seize Xuzhou. Cao Cao, unable to conquer Xuzhou at present, actually benefits from leaving it in ruins.”

“...”

Deng Hong was at a loss for words. The gulf in their knowledge left them unable to understand each other.

To later generations, Shen Chen’s arguments might seem unremarkable; after all, anyone with access to the internet could look up the history—Cao Cao first captured Xiapi, slaughtered several cities, then marched north to attack Shanyang, only to be thwarted by Lü Bu’s sudden assault.

But to the people of the late Han, his predictions seemed as uncanny as those of a spirit or deity—far beyond ordinary understanding. It was as if someone in the year 2000 foretold a world war decades in advance; most would dismiss it as sheer nonsense.

Yet Shen Chen’s words were logical and well-reasoned, not idle fantasy, leaving Deng Hong uncertain and deeply hesitant.

Finally, looking upon Shen Chen’s earnest and solemn face, Deng Hong nodded and agreed, “Very well, I will do as you say.”