Chapter Forty: Going to School

Following Shen Chen’s advice to the letter, Zhuge Xuan emerged unscathed as expected. Although Zhu Hao arrived with Liu Yao’s troops, he did not trouble Zhuge Xuan—instead, they enjoyed a lively conversation. It wasn’t until the beginning of this year that Zhu Hao left Yuzhang and came to Jingzhou.

Because Zhuge Xuan had previously served as an official under Liu Biao and had successfully completed a diplomatic mission to the imperial court, earning merit, Liu Biao recruited him again as an administrative officer in charge of records. Thus, Zhuge Xuan became one of the aides who constantly accompanied Liu Biao, together with Kuai Liang, Deng Yi, and Liu He.

Many assumed that Liu Biao’s closest attendants were people like Cai Mao, Kuai Yue, and Zhang Yun, but in reality, those men held higher positions. For instance, Cai Mao was now both Chief Military Advisor to the General Who Pacifies the South and Prefect of Nan Commandery, responsible for all military and administrative affairs in Nan Commandery. As such, Cai Mao usually resided at the Prefect’s mansion in Xiangyang’s Nan Commandery, rather than following Liu Biao everywhere.

Kuai Yue, meanwhile, served as Prefect of Zhangling. Originally, Jingzhou consisted of seven commanderies, but after Liu Biao arrived, he carved a large southeastern portion out of Nanyang Commandery to create Zhangling Commandery, with its seat in Zhangling County—some twenty kilometers south of what would later be Zaoyang in Hubei. This location controlled the critical passage from Nanyang to Jiangxia; to the southwest lay the Dahuang Mountains, to the northeast, the Tongbai Mountains. Between them would one day lie Suizhou, and a southern route led directly into the Jianghan Plain, bypassing to the rear of Xiangyang. The strategic significance of this region was immense. Liu Biao’s decision to appoint Kuai Yue as Prefect of Zhangling was surely driven by a need to secure this vital north-south corridor.

As for Zhang Yun, he remained guarding Fancheng across the river. Thus, under normal circumstances, Liu Biao was not accompanied by men like Cai Mao, Kuai Yue, or Zhang Yun, but rather by his administrative staff—the Prefecture Secretary, Deputy, Recordkeeper, and Chief Clerk.

Besides Kuai Liang, Deng Yi, Liu He, and Zhuge Xuan, there was once another official, Han Song, a Gentleman-Attendant of the Office of the Middle Army. But Han Song had only been forced into office by Liu Biao’s pressure. In recent years, as Liu Biao secretly performed sacrifices to Heaven and Earth, nurturing ambitions of founding a new Han dynasty, Han Song had remonstrated so persistently that Liu Biao grew weary of him and ultimately forbade Han Song from seeing him. And so, these few were the ones who attended him day to day.

Today, as fate would have it, a meeting was called. Lately, ever more people were arriving in Xiangyang from Guanzhong. These refugees brought with them not only new hands for labor but also greater disorder and severe public security problems. The officials were deep in discussion when Deng Hong came to take up his post. Hearing of Zhuge Xuan’s troubles, Liu Biao turned to Shen Chen and said, “Child, you are truly clever.”

“Thank you, Governor, for your praise. These are but thoughts drawn from what I saw along the way; I still have much to learn from books,” Shen Chen replied.

Laughing and stroking his beard, Liu Biao said, “You are modest indeed. Today, we are just discussing how to resettle the more than a hundred thousand households of refugees now in Jingzhou. Do you have any ideas?”

Shen Chen thought for a moment and then said, “On my journey here with my great-uncle, I saw many of these refugees and spoke with them. They said the chaos in Guanzhong has made life impossible—so much so that the Son of Heaven wishes to move east to Luoyang, which means the region is all but uninhabitable. I believe that since the people cannot survive in Guanzhong, they will most likely settle in Jingzhou. The influx of people is a blessing for Jingzhou. Since the Yellow Turban and Dong Zhuo uprisings, Nanyang has lost half its population and is dotted with abandoned land. The Governor could resettle the refugees in Nanyang.”

“The prefecture should provide food and supplies, first to relieve the hungry, then direct officials to assign them land in Nanyang to reclaim the wasteland, farm it, and use the harvest to support the populace. With the people thriving, food supplies will grow more abundant, which in turn will strengthen the army, making your forces more formidable.”

Land reclamation and military farming?

At this, the officials of the prefecture exchanged glances. Why had none of them thought of military farming? This system was not invented by Cao Cao—the practice dated back to the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. In the Western Han, the system was expanded: from Emperor Wen’s reign onward, convicts, slaves, and recruited farmers were sent to the frontiers to cultivate the land and provide grain to the border armies.

Previously, however, military farming was mostly practiced in places where supplying grain was difficult—frontier regions like Bingzhou, Youzhou, or Xiliang. The interior had never implemented such a policy, so no one had considered it until now.

But times had changed. With the warlords carving out their own territories, Nanyang had become a borderland of Jingzhou—Wen Pin, stationed at Wancheng, found himself in a situation little different from that of a frontier garrison. There was no reason not to transplant this system locally.

True, Jingzhou was not currently short of grain, but who would ever disdain surplus food? The migration of over a hundred thousand households from Guanzhong placed enormous strain on Jingzhou. Military farming could not only solve hunger among the refugees, but also alleviate disorder and security issues. Most importantly, surplus grain could support a larger army, thereby enhancing their power. It was an all-around excellent solution.

Kuai Liang was the first to speak: “My lord, this is a fine plan. Military farming would certainly solve the crisis for the Guanzhong refugees. I believe it is worth implementing.”

“Indeed, my lord, Nanyang has much land and few people. Settling the hungry refugees there is a sound idea.”

“But is Henan not unstable? Will Nanyang become the front line?”

“After Yuan Shu was driven out, which warlord in Henan can rival our lord? Even now, the Yellow Turbans still occupy Runan.”

“Well, that’s true.”

After discussing for a while, the officials all agreed with the proposal.

Liu Biao stroked his graying beard, increasingly pleased with Shen Chen, and smiled, “You truly are outstandingly clever, almost miraculous. It’s a pity you are still so young, or I would appoint you to office at once.”

A chill ran through Shen Chen’s heart. He quickly replied, “All this is knowledge found in the books—your lordship and the other officials already know it. You only point it out to me because I am young and need guidance.”

In the late Eastern Han, being a prodigy was hardly a blessing. Of the most famous child prodigies of the time, only Sun Quan fared well; the rest met tragic ends—Cao Chong died young, Zhou Buyi was assassinated by Cao Cao’s men, and Xiahou Rong died with his father at Dingjun Mountain. Fame as a prodigy might win early renown among the warlords, but even leaving Yuan Ji’s story aside, envy alone could spell disaster. It was always best to keep a low profile.

Yet this time, he had no choice but to offer a suggestion. Liu Biao insisted on having his own way; those who contradicted him—like Han Song and Liu Wangzhi, who offered honest remonstrance—were resented by him. Sometimes a little risk was unavoidable.

But only to this extent.

The notion of “holding the Emperor to command the warlords”—that he would never mention to Liu Biao. To do so would not bring him fame, but rather see his corpse floating in the Han River.

After all, all his previous analyses were grounded in sound reasoning. For example, Shen Chen had deduced that Cao Cao would massacre Xuzhou from overheard conversations, realizing that Cao feared Yuan Shu and so needed to eliminate Xuzhou to prevent Yuan Shu’s advance into Huai Bei. Zhuge Xuan’s escape from Yuzhang had been possible because Shen Chen, having met Yuan Shu, understood his character. The proposal for military farming was drawn directly from historical precedents in the Han dynasty. None of these ideas were supernatural—just insightful.

But to tell Liu Biao to seize the Emperor in Luoyang and command the lords would be to step beyond wisdom into the realm of the unnatural and treasonous. He must hold his tongue, bide his time, study and cultivate himself, and wait for the opportune moment.

Everyone was impressed by his humility and looked upon the child with newfound respect and admiration. People most fear those whose talent surpasses their own, for envy is original sin. Yet if one remains humble, self-effacing, and elevates others, people are less inclined to resent or attack him. Those who flaunt their gifts, by contrast, are like tall trees in the forest—sure to be battered by the wind. Zhao Kuo may have had skill, but his arrogance led him to face the ultimate adversary, Bai Qi, as soon as he left his home—his talent was wasted.

Liu Biao, seeing Shen Chen’s modesty, nodded in satisfaction and smiled, “You know how to hide your light. Since you wish to remain in the background, so be it. From now on, go to the academy in the southern hills. Take my letter to Song Zhongzi. Have you heard of the Wang family of Shanyang?”

“You mean the Wang family that produced two Grand Ministers?” Shen Chen asked.

“Precisely. The Wang family’s legitimate son, Wang Can, is now in Xiangyang, also organizing books in the southern academy. He may not be the cleverest, but he is highly learned and writes beautiful prose. You may consult him. There are also Qi Wu Kai, Pan Wenze, Zhao Kui, and others. The academy now has over three hundred eager scholars. You are young—be humble.”

“I will obey, my lord.”

Shen Chen quickly agreed. Although he had studied the classics for several years and gained some insight, he knew he was still far beneath these great scholars of the age. Even with the advantage of memories from a later era and an advanced perspective, his knowledge extended only to the broad trends of the time, not the intricate details or the causes behind events. Military skills, technical knowledge, local conditions, and the customs of the Han dynasty were all crucial. Besides his understanding of Xuzhou, he was ignorant of the rest. To grasp the grand currents without understanding local culture or the ways of the people was a grave vulnerability.

Thus, reading and studying were not only for understanding principles but also for learning the culture and customs of the Han, so that when faced with challenges, he could respond using accepted methods.

After leaving Liu Biao, guided by the man assigned to lead them, the grandfather and grandson left Xiangyang through the southern gate, traveling along a shaded lane lined with towering trees toward Xianshan, south of the city.

On the way, Deng Hong gave Shen Chen many reminders. He and the guide would see Shen Chen safely to the academy on Xianshan. Once Shen Chen was enrolled, Deng Hong would return to the governor’s mansion to take up his official duties. Though they would not be far apart, duty would prevent him from frequently looking after Shen Chen, who would have to manage his own affairs.

Listening to his sixth great-uncle’s gentle admonitions, Shen Chen sat on the donkey cart, gazing from a distance at the mountain at the end of the road.

The Xianshan Academy.

Surely, it would be a place where he could learn much that was precious and useful!