Chapter Thirty-Four: The Fox of a Thousand Years, the Demon of Ten Thousand

At first, Liu Biao appeared furious, but then his demeanor suddenly shifted, catching everyone off guard.

Yet this was, in truth, a fortunate turn. It revealed Liu Biao was not truly angry, merely probing for reaction.

Seeing Liu Biao held no blame, Deng Hong relaxed. With pride, he spoke of his grandnephew, “To be frank, Master, Chen has been clever since childhood. Though he is the child of my cousin’s daughter, he is beloved by the whole clan. The clan’s classics and records have all been entrusted to him for study, and in just a few years, he has already read through everything our family possesses.”

“Oh?” Liu Biao asked in surprise, “How could a child so young understand such texts?”

He had assumed that Shen Chen was indeed gifted, but perhaps the clan had more learned scholars to guide him.

Deng Hong replied, “There are many passages Chen cannot comprehend, but he delights in pondering them on his own. He often stands by the roadside, questioning passing scholars for their interpretations, and thus he has studied the classics thoroughly. The clan marvels at him, even seeking out books for him. He is only eight this year, yet has already read countless classics.”

Liu Biao praised, “Such a thirst for learning is a gift from youth. The Deng family of Xinye truly lives up to its reputation, and your clan knows how to foster talent. That is a commendable thing.”

Deng Hong, seeing Liu Biao’s growing admiration, felt somewhat elated. Smiling, he said, “The clan hopes Chen may one day lead us to renewed prosperity. In fact, he has already saved our family once. Our departure from Xuzhou, returning to our ancestral home, was because Chen predicted Cao Cao would massacre Xuzhou, forcing us to move.”

“What?” Liu Biao looked at Shen Chen in astonishment. “You foresaw Cao Cao would slaughter Xuzhou?”

If it was merely a matter of scholarly talent, that would be genius. But to discern the strategic intentions of others—this was not genius, but prodigy.

Shen Chen glanced at his loose-lipped uncle, a little helpless. “Master, I only asked travelers from north and south about the state of the world, and based my judgment on Cao Cao’s prior actions.”

“How did you come to believe Cao Cao would massacre Xuzhou?” Liu Biao pressed.

Shen Chen answered, “Cao Cao allied with Yuan Shao in Yan Province, and though he defeated Tao Qian and Yuan Shu, he still fears Yuan Shu’s power. To avoid being attacked on both sides and to prevent Yuan Shu from absorbing Xuzhou and growing stronger, he will surely first cripple Tao Qian, turning Xuzhou into a wasteland. Massacre is the most effective method.”

Hearing this, Liu Biao sighed, “He who understands others is wise; he who understands himself is enlightened. At your young age, you already comprehend others’ intentions. If you continue your studies, your future will be extraordinary. There are many talented youths in Jing Province, but none at your age can match you.”

“Master overpraises me. I am but ignorant, hardly equal to Jing Province’s gifted youth,” Shen Chen said. He knew well he had no background, having just arrived in Jing Province. As the saying goes, ‘A tree that stands out in the forest is the first to be felled.’ Should his reputation arouse jealousy among Jing Province’s scholars, it would bode ill. Thus, he humbly declined again and again.

Liu Biao saw the boy’s humility and restraint, concealing his brilliance like a gentleman, in accordance with the teachings of the Classic of Changes, and grew ever more fond of him. Laughing, he said, “You are indeed remarkable. Then, your uncle shall be appointed as a librarian in the state office. When your clan settles in Xinye, would you accompany your uncle to Xiangyang?”

“What would you wish for me to do in Xiangyang, Master?” Shen Chen asked.

Liu Biao answered, “Naturally, I hope you will devote yourself to your studies, and one day become a pillar of the state.”

Shen Chen’s eyes sparkled, and suddenly he knelt, bowing deeply. “Master, you possess wisdom ancient and modern, your talent is renowned throughout the land. Of the eight prodigies, you alone outshine the rest. Though I am young and ignorant, my heart yearns for knowledge. I wish to take you as my teacher, and follow you to learn the great principles of the classics.”

“To take me as your teacher?” Liu Biao’s face darkened at this unexpected request, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he stared at the kneeling Shen Chen.

A man who had secured Jing Province single-handedly was no ordinary figure.

He loved talent, yes.

But Liu Biao disliked those who sought to exploit his love for talent, hoping to climb to power through him.

He himself had once been one of the famed eight prodigies, his learning celebrated throughout the land. Had he not entered government, he might have become one of the great scholars of his era.

But ultimately, he was now a regional lord.

Leaving aside whether he had time to teach disciples, his current position did not lend itself to accepting students.

More importantly, as Governor of Jing Province, wielding power over the region, countless aspired to join his circle and rise with him.

Such ambition he found distasteful.

Thus, any who sought to become his disciple would nearly always provoke his ire.

Now Shen Chen had suddenly requested to become his pupil. Under normal circumstances, Liu Biao would certainly refuse.

But the request came not from an adult, but from an eight-year-old child.

Could a child so young truly be so calculating?

Liu Biao cast a suspicious glance at Deng Hong, only to find that Deng Hong himself was equally surprised by Shen Chen’s action.

It seemed this was not Deng Hong’s doing.

Liu Biao thought to himself.

If not instigated by Deng Hong, then Shen Chen must have acted on his own.

Was he sincerely seeking a teacher, or merely hoping to use Liu Biao’s influence to establish himself in Jing Province?

Liu Biao looked at Shen Chen and asked softly, “Do you truly wish to take me as your teacher?”

“Yes, Master. Your reputation for scholarship is known throughout the land, and everyone speaks of the eight prodigies. Even in the countryside, I have heard travelers mention you. Now that I have met you, naturally I wish to follow you and learn the meaning of the classics,” Shen Chen replied.

“In that case, raise your head and look at me,” Liu Biao said.

Shen Chen lifted his head, his eyes wide, meeting Liu Biao’s gaze.

What sort of eyes were these?

Clear and untainted, like the starry sea, pure and transparent.

In those eyes, Liu Biao read a yearning.

A yearning for knowledge!

It seemed to Shen Chen, Liu Biao was the very embodiment of wisdom, and to follow him was simply to immerse himself in the ocean of learning.

For a moment, Liu Biao felt ashamed, inwardly chastising himself for being too harsh.

No matter how clever, the boy was but eight. His analysis of politics was merely the product of listening to travelers, a fortunate guess.

How could one so young be driven by ambition?

Thinking thus, Liu Biao shook his head. “You are diligent and eager to learn—a fine thing. But I am burdened with official duties, and cannot teach you myself.”

“I see,” Shen Chen said, disappointment in his eyes.

Liu Biao continued, “But the renowned scholar Song Zhongzi is now in Xiangyang, teaching at Mount Jian. You may seek him as your teacher.”

“Truly? Thank you, Master!” Shen Chen’s eyes lit up with delight, his whole demeanor jubilant.

Liu Biao warned, “Song Zhongzi is strict. If you do not devote yourself, he will not favor you. If you fear this, it is better to stay by your uncle’s side.”

Shen Chen replied without hesitation, “The sages taught: ‘Learn broadly and pursue with determination; ask questions and reflect closely; therein lies benevolence.’ Though I am lacking, I wish to pursue the realm of the sages. No matter how strict the teacher, I will study diligently.”

“Good,” Liu Biao said, finally reassured after three trials. Smiling, he continued, “Though you may not become my pupil, a teacher need not be fixed. If you have any questions in the future, you may come to me. I will inform the gatekeepers—when you visit, you need not wait outside.”

That was as good as being a named disciple.

Shen Chen feigned great joy. “Then I may trouble you often in the future.”

Even his address had changed.

“Very well, go now. I will have someone escort you to Xinye.”

Liu Biao smiled. Such a talented child truly pleased him.

His fondness was not only for talent, but also for Shen Chen’s keen grasp of the current situation. Perhaps, in time, Shen Chen could aid him in navigating the affairs of the realm.

If such a person remained by his side, and he nurtured him into his own, binding him to the Liu family, their position in Jing Province would be all the more secure.

“Thank you, Master,” Deng Hong and Shen Chen said, bowing once more.

After departing Liu Biao’s residence, Deng Hong said cheerfully, “Chen, I have secured an official post in Jing Province!”

“A hundred-bushel librarian is hardly something to celebrate,” Shen Chen scoffed.

The Han dynasty distinguished two kinds of officials. A librarian oversaw the books in the office—essentially a keeper of the archives.

Though librarians were respected, in the Han they had little room for advancement and limited authority. The position’s ceiling was fixed.

Deng Hong, however, was content. “I am neither filial nor talented, so to be appointed librarian is already a blessing. If fortune favors me, perhaps I may rise in the future.”

“Let’s hope so,” Shen Chen replied noncommittally.

In truth, the greatest gain from this visit was not Deng Hong’s appointment, but Shen Chen’s ability to come and go freely from the governor’s office, often meeting Liu Biao.

Those who understand know the advantages of frequent presence before the highest authority.

Why do officials later tend to promote their secretaries?

Because the secretary is one of their own.

Shen Chen never truly expected Liu Biao to accept him as a pupil. First, Liu Biao was a regional governor, lacking time for disciples. Second, he feared students would misuse his influence.

Thus, Shen Chen’s earlier gesture was simply to secure frequent access to Liu Biao.

Fortunately, he had gambled correctly.

Both were seasoned foxes, but Liu Biao erred in judging Shen Chen’s age.

Eight years old, yes—but Shen Chen’s mind was already mature.

One was an old fox; the other, a tiger in disguise, skilled in performance—ultimately, Liu Biao was outplayed.

Having achieved his desired outcome from Liu Biao, Shen Chen found someone waiting outside.

The man Liu Biao sent was Liu Xian, a subordinate. With Liu Biao’s instructions, he treated them with due respect, sheltering the elders of the Huangmen Pavilion outside the city that night, and preparing boats the next day to ferry them to Fan City.

Passing Fan City, they traveled along the Yu River—later called the Bai River—northward, crossing Chaoyang County, and soon arrived at Xinye, more than two hundred li from Xiangyang.

This ancient county, perched on the eastern bank of the Yu River, had nearly four centuries of history since the early Western Han.

In the distance, the river’s waves rolled vast and mighty. The city’s rammed-earth walls stood low, rising from the open plain.

Outside the city, villagers were busy with farming. The Han dynasty's north was sown twice yearly—millet in spring, wheat in autumn. Now, in early October, winter wheat was being planted and irrigated in earnest; there was hardly a slack month in the year.

On the broad post road, a large procession suddenly appeared. The townsfolk of Xinye looked up from their fields, the many Deng clansmen gazing in bewildered curiosity.

Centuries ago, their ancestors had all been of one family.