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Lü Bu, however, stubbornly insisted he had no worries weighing on his mind. Seeing his reluctance to speak, Fei Qian and Zhang Liao found it futile to press further and had no choice but to let the matter drop.
Bing Province was poor, sparsely populated, with limited arable land and deep-seated ethnic tensions…
Fei Qian was well aware of these challenges. Yet, Bing Province held one distinct advantage over other regions: it had few powerful gentry clans. Years of border warfare had driven many prominent families to migrate inward, leaving the northern reaches of Bing Province with increasingly fewer influential clans.
Fei Qian said, "When I first left Luoyang for Jingxiang, I believed that with Jingxiang's wealth and abundance of talented gentry, I would surely find my place and realize my ambitions. But upon arriving in Jingxiang, I discovered that many things cannot be achieved simply because I wish them to be; it also depends on whether others share the same desire…"
"Though Bing Province is barren, it is relatively simpler…" Fei Qian stated.
Everyone has their own ideas, but what they most enjoy is imposing those ideas on others—telling you this won't work, you must do it this way; that won't do, you must do it that way. It's like layers of spider silk wrapping around you, insufferably confining, until your hands and feet are bound.
Seeing Fei Qian's firm resolve to go to Bing Province, Lü Bu said no more. Instead, he slapped his thigh, stood up, and stomped off to retrieve a ring-pommeled sword, which he placed on Fei Qian's desk. "This is the sword I used in Bing Province. I gift it to you, brother. In Wuyuan, Yunzhong, Yanmen, Shuofang, and other places, I, Lü Bu Lü Fengxian, still have some reputation…"
Without waiting for Fei Qian's thanks, Lü Bu dashed off again, returning with several jars of wine. "Since Ziyuan is determined to leave, let today serve as your farewell! Come, come, one jar each! There's more after this! Haha…" With that, he began chugging wine first, making it clear that the night would not end without everyone thoroughly drunk.
Fei Qian felt somewhat helpless. While receiving one of Lü Bu's war swords was an unexpected delight, why did every departure from Luoyang involve a drinking contest with Lü Bu?
Zhang Liao also smiled, brought over a bowl of wine, clinked it with Fei Qian's, and said, "Boping is leading troops outside, or he'd surely be here to see you off too. Besides, Ziyuan, if you're going to Bing Province, you must know how to drink…"
Very well, then—let's drink.
Though Lü Bu spoke boldly, it was clear he was burdened with heavy thoughts. Though this was ostensibly Fei Qian's farewell, Lü Bu drank the most. Before long, signs of drunkenness began to show…
Suddenly, Lü Bu started lightly tapping the table and singing a song. His voice was rough, powerful, and resonant, but he used the dialect of Bing Province. Though Fei Qian found the melody pleasant, he couldn't understand a single word.
Zhang Liao leaned over and whispered, "The Marquis of Wen likely has his eye on someone… This is a local love song from Jiuyuan…"
Lü Bu? Someone he fancies? Diaochan?
Fei Qian was startled. Does Diaochan truly exist? I thought she was a fiction! Should I warn Lü Bu? After all, Lü Bu had treated him well.
But if he spoke up, aside from whether Lü Bu would even listen, explaining how he knew would be impossible…
After all, Lü Bu hadn't uttered a word about it!
After much deliberation, Fei Qian quietly said to Zhang Liao, "Wenyuan, if you get the chance, try to advise the Marquis of Wen… Given his current status, there aren't many women who could cause him such trouble…"
Zhang Liao stiffened, then nodded silently.
Ah, Lü Bu, this is all I can do for you. Even if you and Diaochan end up together, aside from adding another mark to your infamy, it seems… well, probably… it might still be acceptable…
---
Cai Yan, holding a stack of paper, entered the study and placed it on Cai Yong's desk. "Father, this is all I can remember about the geographical records of Bing Province… It's all Little Junior Brother's fault for taking all the bamboo scrolls with him…"
Ignoring Cai Yan's complaint, Cai Yong set down his brush, picked up the papers, and flipped through them. "Nothing after the fourth year of Zhongping?"
Cai Yan gave an affirmative hum, then moved to her father's side, craning her neck curiously to see what he was writing. "It seems there were no more reports after the fourth year of Zhongping… Father, are you writing a memorial?"
Cai Yong, browsing the geographical records of Bing Province that Cai Yan had transcribed from memory, replied absently, "Yes. Ziyuan's policy of assimilation has merit. I want to write it down and submit it to the court…"
Cai Yan read the half-written memorial, her frown deepening as she hesitantly asked, "Father… who is this memorial intended for?"
"Naturally, it's for His Majes—" Cai Yong stopped mid-sentence, looked up abruptly, and froze.
If it was for the Son of Heaven, the emperor was only ten years old. Whether he could understand it was one matter; whether the memorial would even reach him was another.
If it was for Dong Zhuo, he would certainly understand it. But as the current Chancellor, would Dong Zhuo care about such a memorial? Clearly not. At this moment, nothing outweighed the capital's relocation.
So who was it for?
After much thought, Cai Yong sighed softly, picked up his brush to continue writing, and slowly said, "After I finish, make a copy of this memorial. Along with these geographical records of Bing Province, have someone deliver them to Ziyuan…"
"Alright," Cai Yan responded. Without waiting for Cai Yong to finish, she moved to the side, pulled over a sheet of paper, picked up a fine brush, dipped it twice in the inkstone, and began transcribing the memorial from memory…
Cai Yong wrote stroke by stroke, his characters vigorous and powerful. Though his hand was steady, he paused to ponder his word choices, so his pace was not particularly fast. In contrast, Cai Yan's brush danced across the paper. Though swift, each character was elegant and delicate, exuding a lively spirit…
After writing a section, Cai Yan would dart to Cai Yong's side to glance at a few lines, then return to continue transcribing. In the end, they finished almost simultaneously.
Cai Yong chuckled and asked, "Yan'er, you've finished too? You didn't even see what I wrote in the last section."
Cai Yan wrinkled her nose dismissively and said, "The last section of memorials is always much the same. I didn't need to look. Here, see for yourself if there's any difference."
Cai Yong walked over and inspected her work. Apart from a few different word choices, the meaning and coherence were nearly identical. He couldn't help but stroke his beard and laugh heartily. "My daughter is truly clever! It's almost exactly the same!"
"Of course!" Delighted by her father's praise, Cai Yan smiled radiantly.
Cai Yong smiled outwardly, but inwardly he sighed deeply. Son of Heaven of Great Han, this is all I can do for you. Though you may never see this memorial, as your subject, I must still write it…