Zhuge Liang had always been meticulous in his work—
provided no one disturbed him.
With a loud bang, Zhang Fei—his face flushed red from drink—accidentally smashed a jar. Across the room, Zhuge Liang finally reached his limit.
"Third General," he said coolly, "what exactly are you trying to do?"
"Heh heh!" Zhang Fei let out a happy burp. He looked delighted.
"Brother Zilong told me! You and Big Brother already held a sacrifice in the side hall when you saw the auspicious sign!"
"So I figured I'd do one too—hic!—invite that junior from the light screen to drink together!"
Zhuge Liang paused his work and watched Zhang Fei bustle about, unsure for a moment what to say.
By the time Zhang Fei began directing soldiers to haul in half a pig, Zhuge Liang had no choice but to intervene. If he didn't stop this now, he seriously doubted whether the side hall would survive the day.
"Third General," Zhuge Liang said, raising a hand, "have everything removed. I'll preside."
Without ceremony, he took command, ordering the soldiers to carry the offending half-pig back out.
All the chaotic offerings—incense burners, talismans, yellow paper, even dog's blood—were swiftly cleared away.
If Zhuge Liang himself hadn't known this was meant to be a ritual for blessings, the servants carrying things in would probably have already started rumors that the county office was haunted.
Everything about the Third General is admirable, Zhuge Liang thought, except this fondness for drink. That one flaw is… hard to evaluate.
Grumbling internally, he arranged the three small wine jars Zhang Fei had brought, placing them neatly beneath the spot where the light screen had appeared before.
"Second Brother, you're here too!" Zhang Fei called out cheerfully.
"The Strategist is helping me offer sacrifices to the light screen! Want to join in?"
Zhuge Liang turned around and, sure enough, saw Guan Yu standing at the doorway, peering inside with curiosity.
Guan Yu's iconic long beard had been wrapped in cloth for protection. He wore light training clothes, steam still rising faintly from his body—clearly just back from the drill field.
"In that case…" Guan Yu's dark-red face showed a trace of contemplation.
"Strategist, wait for me a moment."
In no time at all, he returned, solemnly holding a bamboo scroll.
"Judging from the light screen's words," Guan Yu said seriously, "this junior from later generations has a rather… unconventional way of speaking."
"This scroll of the Spring and Autumn Annals is something I obtained by chance after pacifying Nan Commandery. I offer it as thanks—and also in hopes that the junior will read more and cultivate proper refinement."
Zhuge Liang nodded in understanding and accepted it.
A piece of silk cloth was spread on the floor in the center of the side hall. The three wine jars and the bamboo scroll were placed together.
Zhuge Liang bowed toward the center and spoke clearly:
"We ask the auspicious sign to manifest. These are gifts from General Guan Yu and General Zhang Fei, offered in gratitude to the light screen."
In the dim hall, light flashed.
The items on the ground vanished without a trace.
Zhuge Liang felt a sudden clarity.
It seemed this auspicious phenomenon truly worked as the Lord had said—unconcerned with formality, responding only to sincerity.
Guan Yu bowed precisely in thanks, then promptly dragged away Zhang Fei, who was still shouting about drinking more wine. No one understood that particular bad habit better than he did.
The delivery this time was… a bit excessive.
Wen Mang had to sweet-talk the courier over the phone before finally getting everything brought upstairs.
Unexpected—but somehow expected—the gifts themselves were simple.
First: a bamboo scroll that radiated age at a glance. A slip of paper was attached:
From Guan Yunchang, General of the Rear and Marquis of Hanshou.
Second: three exquisitely crafted small jars, also with a note:
From Zhang Yide, General of the Han.
The handwriting on both notes was elegant and refined—clearly from the same person.
"Heh," Wen Mang laughed. "You've gotta admit—this fan's way of urging updates has real style."
He arranged everything neatly, snapped a flurry of photos, and uploaded a post with just one short line:
New video in progress.
After a moment's thought, he also posted these photos—along with the jade pendant from last time—to his social feed.
After all, this was a real milestone in his journey as a full-time creator. Worth celebrating.
Maybe I'll order some crayfish tonight and really go wild while editing.
At the county office in Gong'an, Zhuge Liang had just finished a bowl of noodle soup. He patted his stomach, then looked up at the light screen unfolding above.
As expected, it showed the items he had sent on behalf of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei.
What wasn't expected was the additional image—something that looked like food.
It was a creature Zhuge Liang had never seen before. It resembled a shrimp, but was several times larger. They were piled in a large bowl, coated in red sauce and garnished with vegetables.
Strangely enough… it looked appetizing.
Especially in winter.
Zhuge Liang felt saliva gathering. He had just eaten—so why did he feel hungry again?
He turned to the comments.
"LOL, gotta say, this fan really did their homework. Those were Guan Yu and Zhang Fei's titles around Red Cliffs."
"Bamboo slips aren't easy to come by these days—real effort. Did the UP open the jars yet? What's inside?"
"Whatever's in the jars can't beat a pot of crayfish. Honestly, people keep romanticizing time travel, but what's the point? No chili peppers, no crayfish."
"It's not that bad. The crayfish we eat today—Procambarus clarkii—came from Japan, but China does have native species: the Northeast crayfish, Shiji crayfish, and Korean crayfish. They're just mostly up north."
"So technically, people in the Three Kingdoms could eat garlic crayfish. Though probably only Cao Cao could afford to eat them freely. Liu Bei? No chance. Sun 'Shiwan' would need his navy to steal them."
"Sun Shiwan's navy were basically elite land ducks. If they'd had a real fleet, Taiwan could've been a springboard—north to Japan, south to Indonesia."
"Ancient shipbuilding put all its points into tower ships—useless for real sailing. Spring and Autumn navies existed, but it took another 1,600 years to get Zheng He."
"Still, six hundred years after Zheng He, we've got aircraft carriers. Moving territory. Peak human military power."
Zhuge Liang's expression sharpened.
"Go summon General Guan and General Zhao," he instructed as he stepped outside.
He understood well that one mind was limited. With more people analyzing these words, they might uncover entirely different layers of intelligence.
Only a few breaths later, Guan Yu and Zhao Yun arrived at a run. Seeing Zhuge Liang waiting outside with the doors and windows shut, they already understood most of it.
Zhao Yun stepped inside and immediately spotted the dazzling bowl of crayfish—though it was only an image.
"Isn't that lagu?" he blurted out.
"General Zhao recognizes it?" Zhuge Liang asked.
"When I was young, following General Gongsun Zan in Liaodong, I saw these," Zhao Yun replied.
"The locals called them lagu. Smaller than these, though."
He gestured with his hands.
"They usually just roasted them. Muddy taste, very little meat. Children would dig them up to satisfy cravings."
Zhuge Liang smiled faintly.
"Then once we defeat the Cao bandits, we must visit Liaodong and try cooking them with garlic. I wonder what that flavor would be like."
Guan Yu, however, spoke thoughtfully:
"It seems the junior from later generations responds quickly whenever he receives offerings. In the future, we should make offerings together and wait a while—so we don't miss important information."
Zhuge Liang nodded.
"General Guan speaks wisely."
For instance, Liu Bei wasn't present now. The servants said the Governor of Jingzhou had taken A-Dou out to visit General Huang.
Apparently, before leaving, the Governor's expression had been terrifying—and he'd even given A-Dou a rare spanking, which left the servants heartbroken.