Chapter Ninety-Five: Zhuge Xuan's Critical Illness

On a late spring afternoon, beneath the trees in the courtyard, Shen Chen sat alone. From time to time, he glanced up at the sky, watching the clouds roll and unfold; then he would look down to see ants and insects passing by. Everything in the world was in flux, and he too needed to change.

That morning at the academy, he had listened to the teachers and fellow students lecture him using their outdated and decayed values, which made him want to wash his ears. Though uncomfortable, he dared not confront them head-on; such defiance would mean ostracization from the scholarly community.

The era of shifting loyalties at the end of the Han dynasty was already upon them. People could have multiple teachers, but openly challenging a teacher's authority—betraying one’s mentor and ancestors—would ruin one’s reputation utterly. This was far graver than acts like cannibalism or city massacres, which at the time were not considered social death. Disrespecting one’s parents, failing to honor one’s teachers, or being disloyal to the emperor—that was true social death. The entire scholarly society would spit on such a person, their name ruined beyond repair.

Therefore, Shen Chen had to endure, patiently arguing with them without revealing too much. He dared not openly say that Cao Cao did not “act under the emperor’s orders to punish rebels,” but rather “held the emperor hostage to command the feudal lords.” If those words spread, the scholars of Jingzhou would flood him with scorn.

Given the current political climate, even with Liu Biao alive, resistance against Cao Cao in Jingzhou was futile. The faction favoring surrender was overwhelming, their influence vast. Shen Chen had to find another path—not to openly oppose Cao Cao’s banner but to consider how to survive in Jingzhou.

First, he needed Liu Biao’s support. The surrender faction was everywhere in Jingzhou, but only Liu Biao harbored resentment against usurpers. After pacifying Zhang Xian, he began holding ceremonies for Heaven and Earth and traveled as if he were the emperor. So Liu Biao stood in direct opposition to the surrender faction. Gaining his backing would at least secure Shen Chen a foothold in Jingzhou.

Second, he had to express respect for the court and the emperor verbally. Even if opposing Cao Cao, he could not do so too openly. Instead, he should hint that Cao Cao was a treacherous minister controlling the emperor. After the Edict on the Belt, things would improve; then he could openly denounce Cao Cao’s humiliation of the emperor, using the edict as a shield.

Yet even then, it would be a drop in the bucket. The Edict on the Belt occurred eight years later, and most scholars in Jingzhou still chose surrender, with only a few drawn to Liu Biao’s cause. It would not cause significant upheaval.

These were merely political stances. On other fronts, Shen Chen had to carve out his own path. For instance, in real warfare, using Nanyang as a base, he needed to engage Cao Cao behind enemy lines during the Battle of Guandu, doing everything possible to prevent Cao Cao from achieving a smooth victory.

In culture and scholarship, he had to claim interpretative authority. In this era, cultural power lay firmly in the hands of aristocratic clans. Whatever they did to serve their families’ interests was justified; through their mouths, even dirty deeds became honorable. The common folk, blinded and powerless, had no voice.

It was like the stories in the Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars; to later generations, those protagonists seemed madmen. In a way, these tales were concocted by the ruling feudal elite to deceive the masses, turning traditional filial piety into blind obedience.

Does this not sound familiar? Like the “white left” in later Western nations—anti-intellectual, anti-development, anti-economics, caring only about political correctness while ignoring most people’s feelings.

The stories in the Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars and other fabrications were tools used by those controlling cultural interpretation to turn commoners into ignorant zealots.

The idealized vision of ancient life—good, simple folk; the so-called Jian’an spirit, the Wei-Jin elegance, refined scholars, and gallant gentlemen—was all nonsense. Those were the lives of the upper class. What did the common people have to do with that?

As Mr. Lu Xun once said, flipping through thick history books reveals one phrase repeated over and over: “cannibalism.” Great men have called feudalism dark, rotten, and backward—a mountain crushing the people.

In ancient society, history recorded only the stories of the elite. The common folk were enslaved like cattle or sheep, barely leaving a name behind.

Thus, feudalism was filled with rotten elements, much like the teachers and students at Xianshan Academy, indoctrinated from childhood with these values and difficult to change.

Although Shen Chen wished for reform, the era of teachers and great men had already seen revolutionary ideas sweep the globe. Many progressive youths recognized feudalism’s harm, which eventually led to its overthrow and the dawn of a new age.

But what of him?

He was the only progressive youth.

The rotten ideology of feudalism was deeply rooted.

To topple this mountain was like an ant trying to shake a tree—an almost impossible feat.

Therefore, he had to accept for the time being the world’s rules and values, until he could grasp and command them, then find a way to change them.

In simple terms: first seize power; once in a high position, reform thoughts and culture from top to bottom, gradually dismantling this dark, decayed mountain.

Hence, Shen Chen’s future lay in finding suitable methods in politics, warfare, and culture—temporarily conforming to the times, riding the tide, then standing at its crest, and finally transforming the era.

Yet... though he said this, beginnings were always hard. At present, he had no clear ideas; his mind was a mess, unable to think clearly or determine what to do next, leaving him frustrated.

“So annoying.”

Shen Chen scratched his head hard, unsure if it was the multitude of thoughts or the lack of purpose that made his mind chaotic and restless.

“Maybe I should find someone to talk to, perhaps a fresh perspective, someone to help me brainstorm.”

He looked up at the sky, thoughts swirling, muttering to himself.

Since parting ways with Zhuge Liang by the river at the end of last year’s holiday in Huangmen Pavilion, he had heard nothing about Zhuge Liang for over three months.

He had just returned from Nanyang today. He had originally planned to go back to the academy and then visit Longzhong in a few days. But now, it seemed prudent to first go to Liu Xian’s residence to inquire about Zhou Buyi, then head to Longzhong in the evening.

With his plan settled, he pondered this when Mrs. Cai called from the gate, “Achen, come eat first.”

“All right.”

Shen Chen summoned Zhou Buyi, and they went to the front hall to eat.

After eating, he took Zhou Buyi to Liu Xian’s residence.

Liu Xian and Deng Hong were colleagues, both serving as aides to Liu Biao. It was probably still working hours, but nearly time to leave, so they decided to wait at the residence.

Unexpectedly, Zhou Buyi’s mother was there. Zhou Buyi’s father had passed away, and Liu Xian, fearing that his sister and nephew would be unprotected in Lingling, had brought them to Xiangyang.

Upon seeing Zhou’s mother, Shen Chen cupped his hands respectfully, “Aunt.”

Zhou’s mother, surprised to see Zhou Buyi back, asked, “Buyi, why have you returned?”

Zhou Buyi replied, “I no longer want to study at the academy. I want to study with Brother Achen. His knowledge surpasses that of the teachers.”

Her face darkened, ready to scold him, when a carriage arrived outside. Liu Xian had surprisingly left work early, hastily dismounted, and upon seeing Shen Chen and Zhou Buyi, asked puzzled, “Achen, Buyi, what are you doing here?”

Shen Chen smiled wryly, “Master said my knowledge has surpassed his, so he sent me down the mountain.”

“Oh.”

Liu Xian thought for a moment, “I suppose you angered that fellow Cao Cao during the battle at Nanyang.”

Compared to the surrender faction in Jingzhou—figures like Song Zhong, Wang Can, Cai Mao, Kuai Yue—though Liu Xian later became a minister of Wei, he was the type who loyally served whoever he reported to.

For example, when Liu Biao sent him to meet Cao Cao in Xuchang after Cao Cao’s decisive victory at Guandu, Cao Cao insulted Liu Biao. Liu Xian, incensed, openly rebuked Cao Cao’s criticisms of Liu Biao in public, showing some integrity and loyalty.

Now, with countless surrender faction members in Jingzhou, those like him who firmly supported Liu Biao were in the minority. Perhaps this was why Liu Biao valued him, while others like Deng Yi and Han Song were purged.

Seeing Liu Xian guess the reason, Shen Chen did not hide it, nodding. “Everyone has their own ambitions. Master and others see Cao Cao as a Zhou Gong or Huo Guang, capable of restoring the Han dynasty. I see him as a Wang Mang or Dong Zhuo, a power-hungry tyrant. Hence, our differences. By the way, Master Shizong, why did you leave so early today?”

Liu Xian slapped his forehead. “Oh right, I must hurry. No more talk now. Your granduncle is waiting for me. I must go home to pack some things; I might be away for a few days.”

“What’s the matter?”

Shen Chen was puzzled, sensing Liu Xian might be going on a trip with his granduncle.

Walking toward his home, Liu Xian said, “Yinyi is gravely ill; things don’t look good. I’m going with Youshuo to Longzhong to see him.”

With that, he entered the house.

Shen Chen was shocked—Zhuge Xuan was gravely ill?

When did this happen? Why had he not heard before?

Suddenly he recalled: Zhuge Xuan died this year, and sixteen-year-old Zhuge Liang and his younger brother had personally traveled to Nanyang.

Communication in this era was slow. Shen Chen had been in Nanyang for three months, unaware that Zhuge Xuan’s health had been declining since early this year.

When Deng Hong last returned to report the Nanyang battle to Liu Biao, Zhuge Xuan had been coughing incessantly. Now, over half a month later, his condition had not improved.

Due to the times, once someone fell ill, recovery was uncertain. When conditions worsened, family would be immediately notified to see the patient one last time.

Many Han dynasty documents unearthed at Dunhuang contained letters from officials notifying distant relatives of illness, often arriving too late, as the person had already died.

Thus, sensing his poor health, Zhuge Xuan sent messengers to notify close friends Deng Hong and Liu Xian, and also his two older sisters.

Though Shen Chen had a good relationship with Zhuge Xuan, he was a junior and not a close relative. Zhuge Liang was strong-willed and did not seek help easily, so no one informed Shen Chen.

Yet, even without notice, he had to go.

Upon hearing the news, he entrusted Zhou Buyi to his mother and immediately took a carriage, instructing his servants to take him to Longzhong.

---

“Brother Shen!”

“Hm!”

Shen Changqing greeted acquaintances on the road with nods or brief salutations.

But no matter who it was, everyone’s face bore no expression, as if indifferent to everything.

This was normal for Shen Changqing.

This was the Demon Suppression Bureau, an institution maintaining the stability of the Great Qin Dynasty. Its main duty was to slay demons and monsters, though it had other side tasks.

In the Demon Suppression Bureau, every person’s hands were stained with much blood.

After seeing life and death constantly, one grows indifferent to many things.

When Shen Changqing first arrived in this world, he was somewhat unsettled, but over time he grew accustomed.

The bureau was huge.

Those who remained there were either powerful experts or had the potential to become so.

Shen Changqing belonged to the latter.

The bureau had two roles: the Guardians and the Demon Slayers.

Everyone entering the bureau started as a lowly Demon Slayer, then gradually advanced, with the ultimate goal of becoming a Guardian.

Shen Changqing’s previous incarnation was a trainee Demon Slayer, the lowest rank.

With memories of his past life, he was well familiar with the bureau’s environment.

It did not take long before Shen Changqing stopped before a pavilion.

Unlike other grim places in the bureau, this pavilion stood out like a crane among chickens, presenting a distinct tranquility amid the pervasive bloodshed.

The pavilion’s doors were open, and people occasionally passed through.

After a brief hesitation, Shen Changqing stepped inside.

Upon entering, the atmosphere instantly changed.

A faint scent of ink mingled with a subtle metallic tang of blood hit him, causing his brow to furrow instinctively, then relax quickly.

The bloodstained aura clinging to everyone in the bureau was almost impossible to wash away.