Chapter Four: A Time of Turmoil

Zhao Liu carried the captured weapons on his back, while behind him, Zhao Huai’an bore a strange sword and a pack. The two had been walking along the river for over an hour without rest.

Sweat drenched Zhao Liu’s brow; he was carrying several knives and three sets of leather armor, and by now his legs were weak. Yet Zhao Huai’an, armored and burdened, walked as if he were unburdened by the long journey.

Though Zhao Liu had seen many heroes in the army, even he couldn’t help but be astonished now. “Zhao Da is like a beast of burden. With such strength, he could have made a fortune farming back home, yet he chose to be a soldier? What a fool.”

From behind, Zhao Huai’an heard Zhao Liu muttering and cursed, “What are you grumbling about? Are you sure this road leads to Lizhou?”

Hearing this, Zhao Liu grumbled silently but turned around with a sincere smile. “Big Brother, you must have amnesia. This is the only road back to Lizhou, no mistake.”

Zhao Huai’an gave a grunt of affirmation.

Seeing Zhao Liu sulking after being scolded, Zhao Huai’an quickly offered a sweet date as a peace offering. “Old Liu, you’re older than me, how can you call me Big Brother? Just call me Zhao Da, or Da for short.”

Earlier, Zhao Liu had told him he was only twenty now, while Old Liu was twenty-six, six years older. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of that. Also, the title “Big Brother” made Zhao Huai’an uncomfortable.

Sure enough, Zhao Huai’an knew how to handle Zhao Liu’s temper perfectly. After being scolded, Zhao Liu had thought about giving up and running off, but after receiving this compliment, he was immediately back to his old self and resumed brotherly camaraderie with Zhao Huai’an.

Though Zhao Huai’an had gained the advantage of being called “Big Brother,” he felt uneasy inside. After some thought, he said to Zhao Liu, “The Nanzhao soldiers must be moving north swiftly. Otherwise, the battlefield wouldn’t be left in such disorder. You said when Marshal Huang took his men south, he took all the troops from Lizhou. Without soldiers defending, Lizhou can’t hold.”

As he spoke, Zhao Huai’an squatted down and began drawing a map.

Zhao Liu had told him earlier that Chengdu lay northeast of Lizhou, so this must be somewhere in western Sichuan. Combining that with the course of the Dadu River, Lizhou should be near present-day Hanyuan County.

Zhao Huai’an was somewhat familiar with this area; he had driven the western Sichuan loop with friends before. He knew that north of Hanyuan was Ya’an, beyond which was Chengdu.

He sketched a quick map and called Zhao Liu over. “Old Liu, take a look at these places. What are their names?”

At first, Zhao Liu thought Zhao Huai’an was acting foolish again and prepared his bamboo cup to drink tea. Yes, the fermented tea water had been discarded by Zhao Huai’an but saved by Zhao Liu, who scolded Zhao Da for wasting good stuff.

Zhao Liu sipped the Nanzhao tea contentedly, squatting to study the map on the ground. He was so shocked he nearly dropped his jaw.

Looking at Zhao Huai’an with disbelief, he said, “Zhao Da, you have amnesia, but you can draw this map? Oh my god, incredible, incredible! Zhao Da, you’re destined for greatness.”

After a pause and some thought, just as Zhao Huai’an expected Zhao Liu to comment on the map, Zhao Liu suddenly said, “Quan Fugui, never forget.”

Zhao Huai’an was stunned, then weakly corrected, “It’s Gou Fugui, don’t forget.”

But Zhao Liu wasn’t satisfied. Seizing the moment, he lectured Zhao Huai’an, “Zhao Da, you fool! Soldiers fighting are called dogs, but scholars are called ‘quan’—dogs with refined manners.”

Hearing this, Zhao Huai’an could no longer restrain himself. Clenching his fist, he struck Zhao Liu while scolding, “Aha! You expect me to play on words? You think I’m that easy?”

Zhao Liu yelped, begging for mercy until Zhao Huai’an relented.

Beaten into submission, Zhao Liu rubbed his bruised eyes and replied, “Zhao Da, this is the Dadu River, that’s Hanyuan, that’s Lizhou, and here should be Rongjing, behind which is Yazhou; beyond that are Qiongzhou and Chengdu.”

Zhao Huai’an was impressed; as a member of the military musical troupe, Zhao Liu often took jobs nearby and was familiar with these places, unlike ordinary soldiers.

Afterward, Zhao Huai’an reflected, “I must be influenced by my original self—I’m usually not this violent.”

Seeing Zhao Liu’s grievance, Zhao Huai’an felt guilty and bent down to study the map again.

Now, with Zhao Liu’s confirmation, Zhao Huai’an had a clearer understanding of this world’s western Sichuan geography.

Hanyuan remained the same, Rongjing corresponded to Xingjing, Yazhou was Ya’an, Qiongzhou was Qionglai, and Chengdu’s location was unchanged.

This gave Zhao Huai’an a measure of security; after all, he had driven on the highways through these places.

But the problem was, there were no highways or tunnels through the mountains now. Following the roads from memory would be treacherous and impassable through the rugged terrain.

So he asked Zhao Liu, “If Lizhou is unreachable, where else do you think we can go?”

Zhao Liu pouted silently but, seeing Zhao Huai’an clench his fist again, quickly answered, “If we can’t go to Lizhou, let’s head to Qionglai Pass.”

Qionglai Pass? Zhao Huai’an had never heard of it.

Zhao Liu explained that Qionglai Pass lay between Lizhou and Rongjing, atop the steep, winding Qionglai Ridge stretching over a hundred miles, a natural fortress no army could easily breach.

Moreover, the pass was guarded by 800 soldiers under the Qionglai command, making it impregnable.

Curious, Zhao Huai’an asked Zhao Liu to elaborate.

But Zhao Liu was embarrassed. “Zhao Da, you’re putting me on the spot. I’m from Qishan and haven’t been in this godforsaken place long enough to know much.”

Seeing Zhao Huai’an’s growing disappointment, he added, “But I heard the bandits at Qionglai Pass have made a fortune these years. All the caravans to Nanzhao and Tubo must pass there, and those bandits collect so much toll they live like kings.”

Zhao Liu was full of resentment because, although the Lizhou soldiers profited from the ancient Tea Horse Road, it was nothing compared to the easy money the Qionglai troops earned sitting at home collecting tolls.

However, Zhao Huai’an sensed something amiss in Zhao Liu’s words and asked, “Old Liu, do you mean we’ve been trading with Nanzhao all these years?”

Zhao Liu nodded. “Over forty years ago, when Minister Li governed Shu, he made peace with the Nanzhao people. Since then, no wars. I heard four years ago they clashed again briefly, but they quickly ceased fighting and resumed trade. I only followed the marshal south recently.”

Hearing this, Zhao Huai’an made up his mind and said, “We can’t go to Qionglai Pass. The Nanzhao troops have probably taken it by now. Going there would be suicide. Old Liu, check if there’s anywhere else to go.”

But Zhao Liu was unconvinced. “Zhao Da, you have amnesia. You don’t know how treacherous Qionglai Pass is. Let me put it this way: unless the Nanzhao soldiers can fly, they can’t take that pass. Minister Li specially built Qionglai Pass with huge bluestones from the mountains. Those barbarians can’t break it with hammers.”

Zhao Huai’an noticed Zhao Liu held this Minister Li in high regard but paid it little mind. Instead, he explained, “Liu, if I were the Nanzhao army, I’d disguise myself as a tea horse caravan to sneak through. Do you think Qionglai Pass guards would be prepared for that?”

Zhao Liu was stunned.

He knew all too well the nature of the Qionglai garrison. Though the Lizhou soldiers had fought on the Dadu River front, trade behind their lines never stopped.

Their defeat was swift, and the Nanzhao soldiers pursued relentlessly—maybe they had already stormed Qionglai Pass.

Now uncertain, Zhao Liu appealed to Zhao Huai’an, “Zhao Da, you seem wise. What do you think we should do? I’ll follow your lead.”

Zhao Huai’an stroked his short beard, pondering but found no solution.

He understood that while western Sichuan was mountainous, it also contained many hidden paths. Qionglai Pass guarded the main road, the only route fit for armies.

But neither he nor Zhao Liu were locals; how could they know the secret trails?

Despite his sharp mind, Zhao Huai’an felt powerless—like a clever housewife without rice to cook.

Glancing at the darkening sky, he sighed and said, “Liu, we have no other ideas. Let’s find a place to rest. It’s nearly nightfall—traveling in the dark is dangerous.”

Zhao Liu replied with a grunt and hoisted his pack, following again.

They resumed their journey, but Zhao Liu was noticeably quieter. Zhao Huai’an, perceptive as ever, sensed the despair in his companion and knew he had to lift his spirits.

He started a new topic: “Liu, who exactly is this Minister Li you admire so much?”

Immediately, Zhao Liu brightened. He wanted to tease Zhao Da for not knowing, but thinking of his amnesiac state softened him.

He explained, “Our Minister Li is none other than Li Wei Gong, Li…”

At this, Zhao Huai’an recognized the name—Li Wei Gong was Li Jing, the great strategist of the early Tang dynasty. He had even studied the “Wei Gong’s Art of War” in his youth.

But he couldn’t recall Li Jing governing Shu or fighting Nanzhao.

While Zhao Huai’an pondered this, Zhao Liu finished his explanation: “…Li Deyu. His ancestral home was in the southeast corner of Wannian Anyi Ward. I once attended a funeral there and saw the Li family mansion from afar.”

Zhao Huai’an froze as he heard this, grabbing Zhao Liu’s shoulder and tremblingly asking, “Say that again—who is this Minister Li?”

Startled, Zhao Liu saw Zhao Huai’an’s wide eyes and stammered, “Li Deyu… what’s wrong?”

At that moment, Zhao Huai’an’s heart sank. His grip on Zhao Liu’s shoulder slackened.

He was deeply unsettled.

He knew who Li Deyu was—an important figure in the fierce political struggles of the late Tang dynasty.

Wait—Li Deyu had built Qionglai Pass over forty years ago? That meant it was now the late Tang era.

The late Tang was a tumultuous century, from the Huang Chao Rebellion to the Zhao family’s unification of the realm—one hundred years of chaos.

Zhao Huai’an felt dizzy and heartbroken, cursing his fate.

Meanwhile, Zhao Liu was about to ask more when suddenly a howl echoed from the dense forest ahead, freezing him in place.

Yet it was this cry that snapped Zhao Huai’an out of his self-pity.

Seeing Zhao Liu dazed, Zhao Huai’an grabbed him and jumped into the thicket, then cautiously crept toward the source of the sound in the darkening woods.