Chapter 36: Shi A Mimics Words to Persuade Yuan Zhong; Xu Fu’s Noble Deed Inspires Xu Chu

The street was in utter chaos, and no one noticed when two people disappeared from the wedding procession.

On the outskirts of the city, at a farmhouse.

Yuan Zhong was giving final instructions for the plot when the door opened from the outside.

In an instant, more than twenty sharp eyes fixed intently on the newcomers.

Wei Yong, bracing himself, cupped his hands toward the man at the head of the room and introduced, “Master Yuan, these two are Shi’a and Huang Zhong.”

Yuan Zhong’s expression shifted slightly; his gaze swept past Huang Zhong and finally rested on Shi’a. In his limited understanding, he instinctively felt that Shi’a was far more troublesome than the ordinary-looking middle-aged man beside him.

He smiled and said, “So it is the renowned Master of the Hero’s Tower. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I come to urge Master Yuan to lay down arms.”

At these words, the only sound left in the dim room was the unsheathing of blades.

Yuan Zhong glared viciously at Wei Yong, gritting his teeth. “I have treated you well, so why betray me?”

Wei Yong lowered his eyes in shame, not meeting Yuan Zhong’s gaze. He cupped his fists and said, “Principles must come before gratitude. If not for the Swordmaster’s saving me years ago, there would be no Wei Yong today. If… if Shi’a intends you harm, I am willing to die with you.”

Enraged, Yuan Zhong spat, “Bah! A mere wandering swordsman—how much is your miserable life worth? Kill them all!”

A conspiracy is called so because of secrecy before the deed. If word got out ahead of time, Yuan Zhong dared not imagine his own fate.

“Master Yuan, wait—hear Shi’a out,” said Huang Zhong, patting Shi’a on the shoulder. “Ziling, why waste words with him? Just seize him and await the Prime Minister’s judgment.”

Yuan Zhong could not help but laugh in anger. This fellow spoke boldly indeed. Counting Wei Yong, they were only three, while he had twenty-seven trusted followers here, including twelve Yuan family loyalists willing to die for him.

Shi’a ignored Huang Zhong, flicked his sleeve, and swept his gaze with arrogant composure, fully assuming the air of a persuasive orator.

He stood with hands clasped behind his back and called out clearly, “Master Yuan, have you heard the story of burning the cottage to kill the rats?”

Yuan Zhong raised his hand to stop his guards and fell into thought.

He knew the allusion well—it advised calm in the face of trouble, to find a well-rounded solution, and not to lose much for the sake of little.

But he could not fathom why, at this juncture, Shi’a would invoke that story to persuade him to abandon the fight.

Truth be told, neither Yuan Zhong, nor Huang Zhong, nor Wei Yong, nor anyone present understood.

How could they know? Shi’a had simply heard Mi Heng and Cao Cao discuss politics too much on the road, and this “burning the cottage to kill the rats” was the only story he understood—so he remembered it.

As for whether he used it correctly? Shi’a did not care in the slightest.

So long as it sounded reasonable, that was all that mattered!

Unable to make sense of it, Yuan Zhong finally asked, “And so?”

Shi’a grew even more disdainful. “Since you know the meaning, why not the reasoning?”

“Hmph, of course I understand—”

The Yuans had produced three ministers in four generations, with disciples and officials scattered across the realm. As a scion of such a great family, how could he be stumped by a mere wanderer?

Yuan Zhong tapped gently on the table, closed his eyes, and pondered for a long while. Suddenly, a flash of insight illuminated his mind.

He understood!

“Wang Ji is a remnant of the eunuch faction. Though he holds more power in Pei than I, he is but a passing pestilence. As the saying goes, ‘A son of a noble house does not sit beneath a shaky beam.’ For me, of Yuan’s noble status, to act as an assassin is no different than striking a stone with jade—much loss for little gain.”

Was that a stretch? It was, very much so!

This was never a matter of nobility or baseness. If Yuan Zhong wanted Pei, he had to deal with Wang Ji before the court’s policies changed.

Whether Wang Ji was a rat or a stone, it didn’t matter. Without proper procedure, even if he waited until Wang Ji died of old age, he would never inherit Pei rightfully.

But at this moment, Yuan Zhong could think no further.

The Yuan family’s honor was, after all, more important than the Pei magistracy.

“Master Yuan only knows half the story…”

Everyone in the room craned their necks, waiting for the second half—but long moments passed with nothing more.

Looking closer, they saw Shi’a’s nostrils flared skyward, his head nearly at a right angle to the floor…

“There’s more?”

“Of course,” Shi’a replied.

Of course there wasn’t. In truth, Shi’a hadn’t even understood Yuan Zhong’s so-called “first point.” But did that stop him from imitating Mi Heng’s airs? Not at all!

Why should Mi Heng’s cryptic ramblings make the lord value him as a great talent, while he couldn’t do the same—parroting back to win Yuan Zhong’s admiration?

Shi’a’s reply was so assured, in expression, gaze, and tone, that he truly resembled a proud, talented recluse.

Yuan Zhong could only wonder if he was the one being blind to the obvious.

Well then…

If there was a “second point,” it must transcend the current situation.

Beyond Pei, what else was there?

Dong Zhuo? No, it had nothing to do with Dong Zhuo.

Yuan Shao. Yuan Shu!

He understood!

It was about Yuan family legitimacy!

Yuan Shao was the son of a concubine, later adopted to become the legitimate heir. Yuan Shu, however, was the legitimate son, yet Yuan Shao’s reputation far outstripped his, causing endless strife between the brothers. In essence, it was a battle for the family’s resources.

Yuan Zhong, though a collateral branch, was, by blood, equally descended from Grand Minister Yuan An. By lineage, he too had a claim to the headship.

Now that he was making a name for himself, it was inevitable he’d become a pawn in the Shao-Shu rivalry.

Understanding this, Yuan Zhong rose and bowed deeply to Shi’a.

“Thank you, sir, for your guidance.”

“Mm.”

“I shall wade no further into these murky waters. Today, I return to Runan to write my report.”

“Mm… mm?” Shi’a’s eyes suddenly widened, revealing an innocent stupidity.

Had he overdone it…?

What should he say now?

Mi Heng had never taught him this!

If he dared imitate Mi Heng and praise Yuan Zhong’s wisdom, thereby letting him escape, would not Chen Cong flay him alive?

“Master Yuan… care for some wine? My treat…”

“Hahaha! I’d be delighted, though I hardly dare presume!” Yuan Zhong seized Wei Yong with one hand and reached to invite Huang Zhong with the other. “Might I invite Wei and the honorable Huang to join me? It was my error before—I hope you will forgive me.”

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“I’ve lost,”

Xu Chu collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily.

Who could have guessed that a seemingly frail young lord would possess such strength?

What began as a single round for victory quickly escalated to two out of three, then three out of five, four out of seven—and soon he was using both hands against the other’s one.

He was truly too ashamed to keep making excuses.

“You look like a fierce, robust fellow, yet your strength is no match for Chen Zining. Turns out you’re all show and no substance—a clay lance with a silver tip.”

“Get lost!”

Chen Cong shoved the mouthy Mi Heng aside and reached out his hand to Xu Chu.

“Come on, horseman.”

Xu Chu shook his head resolutely. “Whether buying my way out with gold or begging forgiveness, I cannot be your horseman.”

“What? Are we not both men who keep our word?”

Xu Chu hung his head in silence.

Chen Cong was having none of it. He still wanted to present Xu Chu as a gift to his father-in-law!

“Alright, alright, I won’t provoke you anymore. If not a horseman, then I’ll make you a general!”

A glimmer of hope flashed in Xu Chu’s eyes, but quickly faded; he still kept his head down.

“Hey, you…”

Noticing the direction Xu Chu instinctively glanced, Chen Cong suddenly understood.

He was an orphan, unfamiliar with ties of kin.

But Xu Chu was different—he still had an old father to care for.

“Of all virtues, filial piety comes first. If you cannot come, you cannot come…”

“Never mind, Xu Chu. Settle your father at home, then come find me. My name is Chen Cong—my father-in-law is Cao Cao. Remember it.”

Without another word, Xu Chu knelt and knocked his head three times firmly on the ground before Chen Cong.

He cupped his fists tightly. “I will not forget!”

“Foolish child, foolish child…” Old Xu’s lips trembled as he stepped forward to pat his son’s shoulder. In the blink of an eye, the boy who had once clung to his knee had grown up—only when kneeling could he still reach his father’s shoulder.

After a long, conflicted silence, Old Xu finally relented, though unwilling.

“A man’s promise is worth its weight in gold—how can you break your word and live with yourself? Go, then.”

“Father…”

“Your elder brother will look after the family. Make something of yourself, and that will be the greatest act of filial piety for your old man.”