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Being a guard of the Central Pavilion might sound prestigious, but in reality, it was nothing more than a glorified doorman. The Central Pavilion wasn't a fixed location but rather an architectural feature—a gateway separating the inner and outer courts of a residence. This kind of structure was most commonly found in imperial palaces and the grand estates of high-ranking officials.
At present, Emperor Liu Xie was still young. He wasn't entirely ignorant of matters between men and women, but neither was he fully aware. The imperial palace had always been a place where feminine influence overshadowed masculine authority. Dong Zhuo, relying on his status as the Imperial Chancellor, would frequently visit the palace to see Liu Xie—though, of course, his primary interest lay in the numerous beauties handpicked from across the land by the late Emperor Ling.
Lü Bu's duty was to guard the door while Dong Zhuo engaged in… in-depth discussions about life's philosophies with those beauties.
Naturally, Lü Bu wasn't the only guard. There was an entire contingent of Dong Zhuo's personal soldiers, with Lü Bu merely serving as their commander.
Clad in golden armor and gripping his halberd, Lü Bu stood motionless before the gate, his expression unreadable. The other guards formed two rows outside, all clad in heavy armor with hands resting on their long blades. The unspoken warning—keep away—was so palpable that even a blind man could sense it.
Generally, Dong Zhuo would indulge himself in the palace until noon, then, depending on his mood, take a short nap before returning to the Chancellor's residence to meet with Li Ru or other officials, concluding his day's work.
During the Han Dynasty, napping at noon was widely frowned upon, seen as a sign of laziness. As a result, most people didn't rest during the day.
This routine was one Lü Bu had long grown accustomed to—standing guard at the palace in the morning, then doing the same at the Chancellor's residence before finally returning home, only to repeat it all the next day.
Simple. Monotonous. Dull.
Lü Bu's eyes appeared fixed ahead, but his focus had long since drifted.
That letter he had inexplicably received at his doorstep yesterday had left him tossing and turning all night.
Taiyuan…
There was indeed only one person from Taiyuan who had the privilege of bearing a huagai (a ceremonial canopy). It wasn't a particularly difficult riddle to solve, but the real question was—why would such a person seek him out?
They weren't related, nor did they have any prior connection.
Moreover, in terms of rank, this individual far surpassed him…
Lü Bu lowered his gaze slightly, glancing at the pannang (a pouch for holding seals) hanging from his waist.
In the Han Dynasty, official seals consisted of two parts—the seal itself and the silk ribbon (shou) attached to it. The ribbon was tied to the seal's knob on one end, while the other could either be tucked away or left to hang from the belt. Civil officials typically let theirs drape down to the hem of their robes, but military officers, clad in armor, found the dangling ribbon cumbersome. Thus, they usually kept both seal and ribbon inside the pannang, which was then hooked to their belts.
A silver seal with a blue ribbon…
Once, this had been something he dreamed of attaining. Yet now, it felt heavy and uncomfortable at his waist, as if the weight of this small pouch was pressing down on his martial prowess, stifling the strength he had cultivated over the years.
The words "spur your horse and gallop free" from the letter had struck him like a hammer, shattering the dam that had held back his longing for Jiuyuan.
If only I hadn't followed Ding Yuan south back then…
Jiuyuan… The grass must be sprouting all over the hills by now…
If he were still in Jiuyuan, he wouldn't be bound by these stifling formalities. He wouldn't have to wear these constricting clothes, neatly fastened and uncomfortable. He could leave his robes open, letting the wind, carrying the scent of fresh grass, rush through his chest and sleeves—like countless tiny hands caressing him…
If he were still in Jiuyuan, he could let his horse roam freely across the boundless green plains. He could sit or lie down wherever he pleased, sinking into the tender, soft grass—far more comfortable than the hard mats he slept on now…
If he were still in Jiuyuan, he could sing at the top of his lungs, trading pastoral songs with the spirited girls of the grasslands, then drinking a bowl of kumis handed to him by their own hands…
But now…
Hmph. Heh.
The sun had passed its zenith when Dong Zhuo finally emerged, swaying unsteadily as he leaned on the arms of a few palace maids.
A life of indulgence—feasting on rich meats and drowning in wine—had made Dong Zhuo grow increasingly obese. His body had swollen to more than twice its original size since arriving in Luoyang, turning him into a veritable mountain of flesh.
Whether due to excessive activity in the palace or some other reason, Dong Zhuo actually struggled to climb into his carriage, lifting his leg but failing to step up.
Several Xiliang bodyguards immediately dropped to the ground, forming a human staircase for him to ascend.
Lü Bu watched in silence before mounting his Red Hare. Alongside the Xiliang guards, he escorted Dong Zhuo's carriage out of the palace.
Red Hare twisted its neck impatiently, snorting as if deeply dissatisfied with the sluggish pace. It stamped its hooves, eager to surge forward.
Lü Bu tightened the reins, carefully controlling the horse, pulling it back each time it tried to overtake Dong Zhuo's carriage.
After several attempts, Red Hare finally relented with another snort, turning its head to look at Lü Bu. Its large, round eyes seemed to brim with confusion and grievance.
Lü Bu remained silent, gripping the reins with one hand while leaning down to stroke Red Hare's neck with the other, trying to soothe its agitation. But the horse shook its head, brushing off his touch.
Tch. This stubborn beast…
Ah, this stubborn beast…
Lü Bu stared at the reins in his hand, struck by a strange thought—it was as if he, too, were bound by invisible reins, held tightly by some unseen hand.
Dazed, he made it through another day of guarding the Central Pavilion. As his shift ended, Lü Bu nodded to the Xiliang guards taking over before preparing to leave the Chancellor's residence and return home.
Just as he turned past a pavilion, he nearly collided with a maidservant carrying a silver tray laden with some unknown items.
The maid quickly sidestepped, dipping into a slight curtsy with her head lowered, revealing a sliver of her neck. Her skin, framed by a few delicate strands of hair, looked exceptionally soft and smooth…
Lü Bu took a closer look—it was the same maid he had encountered before. Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, he whispered, "You… are you from… Jiuyuan?" His voice trembled slightly by the end.
The maid kept her head bowed, momentarily stunned before replying in a voice as tender and crisp as the first sprouts of grass on Jiuyuan's plains:
"…Reporting to the General… this lowly maid… is indeed from Jiuyuan…"
*****
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