Chapter Sixteen: Huang Hao

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Zhong Hui’s slender fingers lightly tapped the table, a gleam flickering in his eyes. The flickering candlelight inside the tent cast his profile in shifting shadows.

“Commander Du, do you remember Qiao Zhou?” Zhong Hui suddenly spoke, his voice smooth as silk.

Du Yu nodded slightly. “I remember. He is known as the ‘Confucius of Shu,’ highly respected among the gentry of Yizhou. He currently serves as Grand Master of Ceremonies and enjoys Liu Shan’s deep trust.”

A meaningful smile curled at the corner of Zhong Hui’s mouth as his fingertip gently tapped the spot on the map marking Chengdu. He then turned to Wei Guan and said, “Boyu, please draft a letter to Qiao Zhou. Tell him that if he can persuade Liu Shan to surrender, we will ensure his entire clan’s prosperity and grant him the title of marquis.”

The generals inside the tent exchanged varied expressions. Pang Hui frowned and said, “General, our forces have yet to breach Jian’ge; is it prudent to seek surrender at this juncture...?”

“You are mistaken, General Pang.” Zhong Hui cut him off, a cold glint in his eyes. “If Zhuge Zhan holds Mianzhu against Deng Ai, Shu will surely mobilize all its strength to reinforce. Our army would then be caught in a pincer. Better to cut off the root first.”

Du Yu understood clearly that Zhong Hui’s move was driven by fear that Deng Ai might reach Chengdu ahead of them, hence the promise of a marquisate to Qiao Zhou. He could not help but ask, “General, do you believe Zhuge Zhan is no match for Deng Ai?”

Zhong Hui gave him a quick glance. Though he looked down on Deng Ai, he had to admit his military talent; Zhuge Zhan was certainly not his equal.

If Zhuge Zhan were defeated, Deng Ai would charge straight into Chengdu. At that point, the glory of ending the kingdom would fall to Deng Ai—an outcome Zhong Hui was unwilling to see.

“Surely none of you wish to miss out on this honor of destroying a kingdom!” Zhong Hui said solemnly. “I had planned to withdraw and resume the campaign against Jian’ge next year, but now that Deng Ai has crossed Jiangyou and taken Fucheng, the gates of Shu are wide open. How could we retreat so easily?”

“In that case, I shall personally write to Qiao Zhou, urging him to persuade Liu Shan to surrender,” Du Yu responded promptly.

“With the current situation, I believe Liu Shan is a wise man,” Zhong Hui boasted.

He did not yet know that with the arrival of Liu Chen, the situation would change drastically, shifting the tide of attack and defense.

Grand Master of Ceremonies Qiao Zhou stood by the window of his mansion, tightly clutching a secret letter until his knuckles turned white. The letter had been sent by Zhong Hui’s trusted aide, its words charged with both irresistible pressure and temptation.

“A master from the palace, the emperor urgently summons you,” an old servant reported softly outside the door.

Qiao Zhou took a deep breath and brought the letter close to the candle flame. The silk paper curled and turned to ash in moments. Though sixty-three years old and slightly stooped, his eyes remained bright and clear as a youth’s. He straightened his robes and gazed into the bronze mirror—the ‘Confucius of Shu,’ a title he had borne for over thirty years, today would decide the fate of a nation.

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Inside Jiade Hall, Liu Shan received Qiao Zhou.

“Minister Qiao, what brings you before me?” Liu Shan’s face bore a gentle smile.

He was courteous to all his ministers.

“Once, King Wu of Zhou overthrew the tyrant King Zhou of Shang. Weizi returned the sacrificial vessels and surrendered, praised by Confucius as benevolent,” Qiao Zhou began slowly, his voice calm and steady. “Now, Wei is strong and we are weak. If Your Majesty surrenders to preserve the lives of millions in Shu, future historians will surely record this as an act of benevolence.”

“Are you here to persuade me to surrender?” Liu Shan was taken aback, staring at Qiao Zhou in surprise. “Is the situation really so dire? Are the enemy troops at the city gates?”

Qiao Zhou replied calmly, “Your Majesty, Deng Ai’s forces are at Fucheng, Zhong Hui attacks Jian’ge; Shu hangs by a thread. I fear that if you insist on resistance, both jade and stone will be shattered, and countless Shu citizens will perish. I have observed the heavens at night; the emperor star dims—this is the will of heaven.”

Liu Shan waved his hand with a broad smile. “Minister Qiao, you worry too much. Zhuge Zhan, son of the Marquis of Wu, is extraordinarily talented and will surely hold Fucheng. As for Jian’ge, General Jiang Wei commands there. Even with a million troops, Zhong Hui cannot cross that threshold.”

Qiao Zhou furrowed his brow, stepped forward, and said in a low but firm voice, “Your Majesty, I do not speak lightly. Deng Ai is a Wei general of divine military prowess. Though Zhuge Zhan descends from the Marquis of Wu, he lacks experience and may not match Deng Ai. As for Zhong Hui, he is cunning and resourceful. Though Jiang Wei is brave, Jian’ge’s supply lines are difficult to maintain; a prolonged defense will surely fail!”

Liu Shan’s smile gradually faded, a flicker of hesitation crossing his eyes. He rose and paced to the window, gazing at the gloomy sky in the distance. He murmured, “Has my kingdom truly come to this?”

“Certainly not.”

A sharp, aged voice interrupted as an elderly eunuch strode into the hall.

It was the palace attendant Huang Hao.

Holding his whisk, Huang Hao briskly entered, his narrow eyes scanning Qiao Zhou before bowing to Liu Shan. “Your Majesty, the old servant has urgent news.”

Liu Shan turned, frowning slightly. “What matter is so pressing?”

“The old servant has just received urgent news from Fucheng: General Zhuge has repelled Deng Ai’s vanguard, beheading over a thousand. General Jiang has also struck a heavy blow to Zhong Hui at Jian’ge, with severe casualties among the Wei forces!”

Huang Hao straightened, his sharp voice clear and unwavering.

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Upon hearing this, Qiao Zhou’s expression changed. “Is this... is this news certain?”

Huang Hao sneered. “Minister Qiao, do you hope this news is false?” He then turned to Liu Shan, his tone earnest: “Your Majesty, morale is high among our troops. If you speak of surrender now, would it not chill their hearts? Even as a eunuch, I understand the principle: ‘Better to shatter like jade than to survive like a tile!’”

A flicker of doubt crossed Liu Shan’s eyes as he absentmindedly rubbed the jade pendant at his waist.

Seeing this, Qiao Zhou hurried forward. “Your Majesty, the reports from the palace attendants have not been verified. Even if true, the Wei’s strength is tenfold ours; a prolonged war would surely end in defeat!”

Suddenly, Huang Hao raised his voice. “Minister Qiao! I have heard that a secret envoy from Wei has infiltrated Chengdu—could it be...?” He cast a meaningful glance toward Qiao Zhou.

The atmosphere grew tense. Qiao Zhou’s face turned pale, and the hand concealed in his sleeve trembled slightly. “Palace attendant, what do you mean? I have served the late emperor faithfully for over thirty years; how could I...”

Liu Shan raised his hand to halt their quarrel, rubbing his temples wearily. “Enough, stop arguing. I... I need to think further. You may withdraw.”

Qiao Zhou realized he would not persuade Liu Shan today and bowed before taking his leave.

Huang Hao followed closely behind and exited the hall.

“Palace attendant, the realm is on the brink, and the Liu family clearly cannot match Wei’s might. Have you not made arrangements earlier?” Qiao Zhou snorted coldly. “The Wei army is already at the gates, yet you deceive the emperor with false reports. You are endangering His Majesty’s life.”

Huang Hao shot him a glance and merely snorted in response.

He would never reveal to Qiao Zhou that even if surrender were to be urged, only he could do it. Such glory would be his alone, not Qiao Zhou’s.