Chapter Thirty-Two: Liu Biao

It was Zhou Lin who first informed Deng Hong about Huang Zu’s greed for wealth. Zhou Lin, conducting business along both banks of the Yangtze, always had to curry favor with the local officials and governors of each prefecture. He knew their preferences, interests, and personalities intimately, which made it easier to flatter them and pave the way for his merchant fleet.

Strictly speaking, Huang Zu couldn’t truly be called avaricious, for most of the time he remained just and upright—otherwise, he wouldn’t have initially treated Mi Heng so well. Yet stationed in Jiangxia, his military expenses were substantial, and he was always in need of funds. Later, Gan Ning commented, “Zu is old now, his faculties dulled, lacking both money and grain. His attendants make a mockery of him, and he is obsessed with profit, oppressing his officers and soldiers, who resent him. His ships and weapons lie neglected, farming is ignored, and his army is in disarray.”

Years of warfare with Sun Quan had drained his resources, and so he became increasingly absorbed in commerce, heavily taxing the merchant ships passing along the Yangtze, provoking widespread resentment. Moreover, his relationship with Liu Biao wasn’t simply that of a subordinate to a superior; it was almost a semi-independent state, so Liu Biao ceased to support him.

Until his death, Huang Zu remained short of funds and provisions, which ultimately allowed Sun Quan to seize Jiangxia. But all that would come later.

Now, with Liu Biao having pacified Jingzhou and enjoying immense prestige, he and Huang Zu were at the height of their cordial relations. There were no conflicts, so writing a recommendation letter for Deng Hong was hardly a difficult favor. Indeed, it was no loss for Huang Zu—first, he was paid handsomely, so why not oblige? Second, it was an opportunity to forge goodwill. If Deng Hong turned out to be talented and won Liu Biao’s favor, it would reflect well on Huang Zu’s judgment, and Deng Hong would owe him a debt. If Deng Hong lacked talent and wasn’t recruited, it mattered little—he’d already been paid.

No matter the outcome, Huang Zu wouldn’t lose, and the transaction was a lucrative one for such minimal effort.

For Deng Hong, obtaining a recommendation from Huang Zu was a valuable stepping stone to see Liu Biao. Both sides got what they needed—a win-win situation.

Yet after leaving Huang Zu, Deng Hong voiced his concerns to Shen Chen, “Ah Chen, though I’ve secured the letter from Huang Zu, our family hasn’t many books in our collection. Will I be able to pass Liu Biao’s scrutiny?”

Shen Chen replied gravely, “Uncle, just go. I’ll be at your side. If our clan is to establish itself in Jingzhou, we must rely on Liu Biao; his approval is essential.”

“Yes, I understand.” Deng Hong took a deep breath, comprehending Shen Chen’s meaning. For his kinsmen to settle smoothly in Jingzhou, Liu Biao’s support was indispensable, so no matter how perilous, this challenge had to be faced.

Seeing Deng Hong’s grave expression, Shen Chen smiled, “Uncle, there’s no need to worry. Liu Biao has only recently stabilized Jingzhou and desperately needs talent. He’s known for valuing reputation; even the Deng clan of Xinye has come to seek his patronage. What reason could he possibly have to refuse?”

“My fear is that I lack the talent to win Liu Biao’s regard, and all this money will have been wasted.” Deng Hong smiled wryly and shook his head.

After gifting Huang Zu such a large sum, the clan’s wealth had dwindled further. They had sold nearly twenty thousand mu of land at Huangmen Pavilion, and combined with their original assets, the entire migration group had wealth amounting to over ten million—but most of it was in goods, not cash.

For this gift to Huang Zu, several clan elders pooled their money together. They’d originally planned to buy land in Xinye, but Shen Chen persuaded them to take a gamble. If they lost, life would be hard for the clan.

Shen Chen reassured him with a smile, “Don’t worry, uncle. You still have me. Even if the test of scholarship fails, I believe I can guess some of Liu Biao’s thinking. We’ll see when we meet him. In any case, the matter is settled—there’s no turning back, so we must give it our best.”

“Then let’s do our best.” Deng Hong, who had studied in Henan and elsewhere in his youth, was not especially learned due to the family’s limited library, but he did possess some courage, and Shen Chen’s encouragement stirred his resolve.

In truth, he was being thrust into this role. In this era, to rise above the crowd was both difficult and easy. If you won the favor of a prominent figure, you could ascend overnight. Deng Zhi and Deng Ai from the Xinye Deng clan were originally unknown, but after meeting Liu Bei and Sima Yi, they soared to prominence.

For the elders returning to their ancestral land in Jingzhou, Liu Biao was an unavoidable hurdle—they had to earn his favor, ideally with an official post, to gain a foothold in Jingzhou.

Among the brothers, Deng Hong was the most learned, so it fell to him to try. But with Shen Chen, that exceptional grandson, at his side, his courage was bolstered.

The letter from Huang Zu was now their key to an audience with Liu Biao. Whether they could win his favor depended on their abilities.

Talking as they walked, grandfather and grandson returned to the Shaxian dock. While they went to see Huang Zu, Deng Mao and others had hired new ships, unloaded goods from Zhou Lin, and were preparing to head north up the Han River to Xiangyang.

At this time, Zhou Lin and his group hadn’t yet left. After the elders disembarked, more than ten merchant ships were vacant. Shaxian was a trading hub connecting Jingzhou with Jiangdong and Yizhou—north to Xiangyang, south to Changsha—with a huge flow of goods. They were planning to restock.

Seeing them at the dock, preparing to purchase goods from local merchants, Shen Chen walked over and greeted, “Mr. Zhou.”

“Oh?” Zhou Lin turned, saw Shen Chen, and smiled, “You haven’t left yet, child?”

Shen Chen replied, “I’d like to ask, Mr. Zhou, how often do your merchant ships come to Jingzhou each year, and how long does the journey take?”

Zhou Lin thought for a moment, “There’s no fixed schedule—it depends on buying and selling goods in Shu. If luck is good, twice a year; if not, maybe once every two years.”

Merchants’ journeys depended on local prices and necessities. For example, buying coal in Pingdingshan and selling it in Datong would be a loss.

So regular surveys were needed. If Sichuan had good weather and a bumper crop of Shu brocade, they could buy it and sell to Jingzhou, then onward to the Central Plains, where noble families loved Shu brocade and silk.

If Sichuan suffered disaster and food shortages, they could buy rice in Jingzhou or Jiangdong and sell it back in Sichuan.

Jingzhou and Jiangdong operated similarly. Jiangdong was rich in porcelain, pearls, coral, tortoiseshell, rhinoceros horn, sea salt, and more; Jingzhou had timber, medicinal herbs, grain, spices, and so on.

At that time, Guangzhou already traded with Southeast Asia—the discovery of Western Han ceramics and coins in the Philippines proved it—so spices from Jiaozhou sold in Jingzhou were famous.

“Would you need anything to speed up your ships?” Shen Chen asked, somewhat disappointed but still hopeful.

Zhou Lin looked at him in surprise, “A merchant away from home always wants to return quickly. If there’s something, of course I’d need it.”

Relieved, Shen Chen said, “Next year, when you come to Jingzhou, send someone to Xinye to find me. I’ll have something for you—a device to speed up your ships. Journeys that used to take ten days will take only five.”

Zhou Lin laughed, “Child, you aren’t planning to fool me with a paddle, are you?”

“Faster than a paddle!” Shen Chen replied earnestly. “You’ll see for yourself when the time comes.”

“All right,” Zhou Lin agreed readily. “I’d like to see if such a thing really exists.”

Shen Chen smiled and took his leave.

Money was scarce—earning some extra through invention was the right path.

Back among the clan, people began boarding the ships. By afternoon, they set off again, heading north toward Xiangyang.

Two days later, Shen Chen saw the famed city of Xiangyang, said to be as impregnable as iron.

Yet it was not as he imagined—a modest city, perhaps no larger than a county town in later times, covering at most two or three kilometers, surrounded on three sides by water, verdant within and without, mountains encircling it.

Modern Xiangyang would be vast, but in those days it was a small city, though outside there were broad fields and villages, mostly concentrated east of the city—what would later become the northeast corner of Xiangcheng District, facing Yuliangzhou across the river.

It was said that the Pang clan of Xiangyang lived in that area.

Their ships circled Yuliangzhou and Xiangyang’s northeast, finally docking at the riverbank north of Xiangyang. The broad Han River surged past, and across the water another city loomed—that was Fancheng, later defended by Cao Ren.

Thinking of Cao Ren, Shen Chen was filled with anger. Though his immediate family had escaped disaster, many Shen clan relatives at Zengyang had died at Cao Ren’s hands, and he never forgot this enmity.

After disembarking at Xiangyang, the migration of over a thousand people naturally drew the attention of the city gate guards.

Deng Hong presented Huang Zu’s letter to request an audience with Liu Biao.

The guards went to report.

A while later, they were allowed into the city.

As usual, Deng Hong brought Shen Chen with him.

A close look at the famed Han-era Xiangyang was a disappointment. The city, aside from being surrounded by water, was only six or seven meters high, mostly rammed earth covered with lime mortar—not very sturdy. But given the era’s weaponry, it was defensible.

Inside, the population was bustling, with the flagstones gleaming, people coming and going, shops lining the streets, commoners moving about—a stark contrast to the desolate, ruined towns of the Central Plains, where nine out of ten homes were empty.

Compared to modern Henan, Jingzhou truly was a land of prosperity. Many had migrated here in recent years, making Xiangyang briefly flourish.

Led by soldiers, they reached the southern governor’s residence.

The mansion was grand and imposing, with Xian Mountain rising steeply in the distance, its dense forests stretching down to the city, as if enveloping it.

Liu Biao’s residence was surrounded by lush trees—not at all like the future cityscape of high-rises and concrete.

The ecology of the Han dynasty was indeed superb.

With Huang Zu’s letter, they were admitted smoothly to the central hall.

At the seat of honor sat a scholar, about fifty, with clear, sharp features.