Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Way to Establish Oneself in Jingzhou

Certainly.

Among the southern warlords, Yuan Shu indeed possessed the greatest power. The combined forces of Cao Cao and Lü Bu, despite their fierce conflict, amounted to only a third of Yuan Shu’s strength. As for Liu Bei, his influence was negligible; his troops numbered less than ten thousand, making him an ant before Yuan Shu’s elephant.

Yet, numbers alone do not guarantee strength. True, Yuan Shu commanded an army of one hundred seventy thousand, but this abundance was both his foundation and his undoing. This year, Huainan enjoyed favorable weather, and Yuan Shu’s granaries were well-stocked, sufficient to sustain his troops. However, history records that in the second year of Xingping—next year—Henan would suffer a severe drought, which would extend to Huainan, resulting in a dramatic reduction in grain production.

Had Yuan Shu’s army been smaller, the situation might have been manageable, but with such a massive force, daily consumption was overwhelming. When his stores began to run dry, he sought provisions from Lu Kang, Prefect of Lujiang. Ironically, this year Lu Kang had maintained cordial relations with him—even visiting with his son Lu Ji—but by the following year, Yuan Shu turned against him, revealing his capricious nature. When Lu Kang refused his unreasonable request, Yuan Shu sent troops to sack Lujiang, nearly exterminating the Lu family, with only half escaping.

Thereafter, throughout the Jian’an era, Huainan was plagued by disaster. Yuan Shu ignored the suffering of the people, indulged himself in luxury to satisfy his imperial ambitions, while both soldiers and civilians languished in misery. After proclaiming himself emperor, he lost all support and ultimately brought about his own ruin; despite such formidable power, he accomplished nothing. Yuan Shu truly deserved the title of “Skeleton King.”

This year marked his last flourish: abundant grain, vast armies, extensive lands. But from next year, decline would set in, ending with his death, blood upon his lips. Shen Chen saw clearly that following Yuan Shu led nowhere.

At present, Yuan Shu was at the height of his glory, feasting guests in towering halls. Yet by next year, all would collapse in an instant; any who followed him would walk only to their doom.

After leaving Yuan Shu, Deng Hong once more urged his clan southward without respite, heading for Yuzhang. The journey from Xuzhou to Huainan was short, but detouring from Huainan to Jingzhou was a long and arduous trek.

More than a thousand villagers from Huangmen Pavilion migrated with difficulty, traveling south from Shouchun through Hefei into Lujiang territory, which, as yet untouched by Yuan Shu’s raids, remained relatively peaceful. The travelers moved along dusty roads, often questioned by local elders and magistrates, to whom Deng Hong patiently explained their situation.

Upon hearing of the Deng clan’s passage, Lu Kang, Prefect of Lujiang, sent envoys to offer his regards, along with gifts of grain and salt. Deng Hong, reciprocating, sent a letter in return, discreetly warning him to be wary of Yuan Shu.

Passing through Shuxian, Shen Chen thought of Zhou Yu, but the latter was scion of a renowned family, while they were fugitives far from home, unfit to pay a visit. Thus, he let the matter drop.

By late August, their party finally entered Yuzhang Commandery; on the twenty-sixth, after more than five hundred kilometers, they arrived in Nanchang from Shouchun.

By then, Zhuge Xuan had served as Prefect of Yuzhang for over a month.

At this time, in the prefectural office in Nanchang, news arrived that a great clan from Xuzhou, bearing Yuan Shu’s seal and tokens, sought an audience. Since Zhuge Xuan owed his appointment as Prefect to Yuan Shu’s recommendation, he felt obliged to receive them at once.

It was once again Deng Hong and Shen Chen who entered. Upon stepping into the main hall, Shen Chen found Zhuge Xuan’s face familiar. He already knew Zhuge Xuan was now Prefect of Yuzhang, and that Zhuge Liang must also be here, but he hadn’t expected the sense that they’d met before.

After exchanging courtesies, Zhuge Xuan noticed Shen Chen’s persistent gaze and asked with some curiosity, “Is there something amiss with my appearance?”

“There is nothing wrong with your face, my lord,” Shen Chen replied.

“Then why, child, do you keep staring at me?” Zhuge Xuan asked with a smile.

“I cannot say why,” Shen Chen answered. “But my lord’s face seems familiar, as if I have seen you somewhere before.”

“You came from Xuzhou,” Zhuge Xuan mused. “I traveled south from Xuzhou in April, reaching Jiujiang in June. Perhaps we crossed paths somewhere.”

“Niqiu Mountain!” Shen Chen’s eyes widened in surprise. “When Cao’s army came, our clan sought refuge in Niqiu Mountain. Later, hearing that the enemy might have withdrawn, some ventured out for news, and on the road we saw your lordship’s carriages.”

It had been a fleeting encounter. Shen Chen recalled glimpsing an official entourage heading south, but did not know then that it was the Zhuge family’s migration, and thus missed the opportunity.

The Zhuge family’s southward journey had begun much earlier than the elders of Huangmen Pavilion—departing in April, while the latter, hindered by numerous delays, left much later. Thus, though their paths crossed briefly in Xuzhou, the Zhuge family reached Huainan nearly two months ahead.

Within that short span, Zhuge Xuan had received Yuan Shu’s recommendation and become Prefect of Yuzhang, and had already settled his clan there. He could not have imagined that another great migrating band trailed in his wake.

At Shen Chen’s words, Zhuge Xuan also remembered: as they passed Niqiu Mountain, a dozen horsemen emerged from the hills, causing a brief panic among the migrating folk, who feared bandits.

Yet, the two parties merely passed each other without greeting or conversation, so the impression was faint. Who could have guessed they had met before?

Zhuge Xuan laughed. “So we have already met—what a fateful encounter.”

“When I chanced upon your carriage,” Shen Chen recalled, “I also glimpsed an extraordinarily handsome youth.”

He remembered the twelve or thirteen-year-old boy in the carriage, and looked to Zhuge Xuan with anticipation.

As expected, Zhuge Xuan smiled. “That was my nephew Zhuge Liang. He is a few years your senior. The General of the Left has asked me to help you secure passage by boat to Jingzhou, and while I make arrangements, you are welcome to visit my residence if you wish to seek his company.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Shen Chen replied joyfully, delighted to meet Zhuge Liang so soon.

His desire to associate with Zhuge Liang was not merely due to the latter’s future fame, but also because of the Zhuge family’s status in Jingzhou.

He did not remember the precise history, but he knew Zhuge Liang was kin to nearly every great family in Jingzhou.

Since his journey to the late Han, Shen Chen had come to appreciate the importance of aristocratic clans. In the eyes of the elite, commoners were little more than grass.

Only the offspring of noble families were truly considered “people.”

These houses held knowledge, controlled the means of production, and even kept private armies, making them active participants in the age’s power struggles.

The warlords who carved out fiefdoms at the end of the Han were almost all scions of great families. Even the least well-born, like Liu Bei and Gongsun Zan, held noble titles or had powerful connections: Liu Bei as imperial kin, Gongsun Zan with a prefect for a father-in-law and the great scholar Lu Zhi as a teacher.

Without the “ticket” of family background, ordinary people found it nearly impossible to enter the upper echelons.

Tao Qian, for instance, had wanted to recruit Shen Chen for office only because of his talent, but unlike with Zhang Zhao or Zhao Yu, he had not tried to force him. Tao Qian favored appointing scions of great families, and while he admired Shen Chen, he would not coerce him, for Shen Chen was not of such lineage.

Thus, Shen Chen had often considered how he might establish himself in Jingzhou.

He saw three paths.

First, to marry into one of Jingzhou’s great houses, as the Zhuge family had. The eight leading clans—Cai, Kuai, Pang, Huang, Ma, Xiang, Yang, and Xi—were all connected to Zhuge Liang. One sister married Kuai Qi, another Pang Shanmian, son of Pang Degong. His wife was the daughter of Huang Chengyan; Huang’s wife was the elder sister of Lady Cai, Liu Biao’s wife, making Zhuge Liang and Liu Biao brothers-in-law. Zhuge Liang, having married Huang Yueying, called Liu Biao uncle, Lady Cai aunt, and Cai Mao uncle as well.

At the same time, he enjoyed close ties with the Ma, Xiang, Yang, and Xi families; Ma Liang, for instance, was like a brother to him.

Second, to seek a master, as Xu Shu did. Liu Biao promoted education in Jingzhou, establishing schools and attracting many Confucian scholars to the south. Great scholars like Song Zhong, Qiwu Kai, Huang Chengyan, Pang Degong, and Sima Hui all taught there. To study under such men and win their favor meant entrance into the world of the learned. In the late Han, the easiest way to become known was to earn praise among the gentry; their acclaim would soon draw the attention of the powerful, leading to appointment.

Of course, this required social ties, with the teacher-student relationship paramount. Without such connections, no matter one’s talent, how could anyone help to spread your fame?

The third path was to find a patron. The Zhuge family was an obvious choice. Zhuge Liang had not yet gone to Jingzhou, and his network was not yet established, so in terms of status, he was not much above Shen Chen. If Shen Chen could befriend Zhuge Liang before the Zhuge family’s rise, then after Zhuge Xuan relocated and wove his connections—marrying off his nieces and arranging Zhuge Liang’s marriage to Huang Yueying—the Zhuge family would soar overnight.

With a close relationship to Zhuge Liang, Shen Chen could rise as well. Soon enough, with Zhuge Liang’s help, he could carve out a place for himself in Jingzhou, and the Deng and Shen clans would likewise find footing.

Thus, his wish to meet the legendary Marquis of Martial Virtue was not only out of admiration, but also calculation.

Of course, there was yet another way: to carve out a place through his own efforts. The Deng and Shen families could settle in Nanyang, ancestral home of the Dengs, where Liu Biao’s power was thinly spread. If Shen Chen could establish himself there before Zhang Xiu’s arrival, raising troops of his own, Liu Biao would surely take notice.

But this was far more difficult: lacking money, grain, and weapons, who would follow him to conquer the world? Moreover, it would still be hard to break into the inner circle. Zhang Xiu, after inheriting his uncle’s army and submitting to Liu Biao, became nominally a subordinate, but was he truly accepted into Jingzhou’s core?

This path was nearly impossible.

The simplest and most effective approach was clear: marry a daughter from a great Jingzhou family, apprentice to a renowned scholar, and firmly attach himself to the Zhuge family. With these three strategies, Shen Chen could secure his place in Jingzhou within five years.

Yet...

Looking at his slender limbs, Shen Chen realized that marrying at the age of eight was a challenge indeed. However much his mind might wish it, his body would not allow it.

His gaze drifted to his sixth great-uncle beside him...

He remembered that his sixth great-uncle had spent his early years traveling for study and had only recently returned home, and so had not yet married. He was presentable in appearance and came from the illustrious Deng clan of Xinye; perhaps...