Cao Cao had fled Luoyang.
Excellent.
There were very few historical figures whose company I preferred to their absence.
Cao Cao was one of them.
Lü Bu was another.
Yuan Shao had already demonstrated remarkable consideration by leaving before I arrived.
If Liu Bei, Sun Jian, and every other man whose face eventually appeared on a character-selection screen could maintain several hundred li between themselves and me, I might yet develop a favorable opinion of this century.
Unfortunately, Father wanted to discuss Cao Cao.
This was how other people's problems became mine.
The servant led me into one of Father's working rooms.
I stepped through the doorway.
Then stopped.
Lü Bu was standing near the wall.
He looked at me.
“Is something wrong, Young Master?”
“No.”
I entered properly.
My disappointment was private.
Father sat behind a long table covered in bamboo slips. Li Ru occupied the seat beside him. Two clerks waited farther down with brushes ready, while several narrow wooden route tablets lay between them.
Nobody was eating.
Already a terrible meeting.
Father pointed to an empty place.
“Sit, Yu.”
I obeyed.
He immediately asked, “Where did Cao Mengde go?”
“East.”
One of the clerks glanced up.
Father stared at me.
“We know that.”
“Excellent. Then the investigation is going very well.”
Li Ru lowered his eyes.
Father did not appreciate my confidence in government.
“He left before dawn,” Father said. “Changed his clothing outside the eastern ward. Used another name. Took few servants.”
“Ah.”
Father frowned. “What?”
“He doesn't want to be found.”
Li Ru looked at me.
I looked at Li Ru.
“What?”
“Nothing, Young Master.”
“Good. Then I have contributed.”
I began rising.
Father pointed back at the mat.
“Sit.”
I sat.
This family had very little respect for completion.
Father pushed a bamboo slip toward me.
“I recommended Cao Mengde as Colonel of Resolute Cavalry.”
I looked at the title.
Cavalry.
Of course.
This age could not arrange breakfast without involving horses.
“He refused?”
Father's expression hardened.
“He disappeared.”
“That seems clearer than refusing.”
“He fled me.”
Ah.
There it was.
Not the office.
Not the court.
Father.
If my manager in my previous life rejected my resignation, I could change companies.
If Dong Zhuo rejected your resignation, changing companies apparently required a false name and several horses.
I considered Cao Cao's decision increasingly reasonable.
“Perhaps he dislikes cavalry.”
From the wall, Lü Bu said, “He has commanded cavalry before.”
I turned toward him.
“There goes his defense.”
Father grunted.
One of the clerks lifted another slip.
“My lord, we prepared the notice for the eastern counties.”
“Read it,” Father ordered.
The clerk began.
Cao Cao was disloyal.
Cao Cao had betrayed the court's confidence.
Cao Cao had concealed himself.
Cao Cao had fled imperial appointment.
Then the clerk reached the phrase rebellious conduct.
“Wait.”
The clerk stopped.
Father looked at me.
I pointed at the slip.
“Has he rebelled?”
“He fled,” Father said.
“Yes. Has he rebelled?”
“He defied an appointment of the court.”
My concern deepened.
“That is not rebellion.”
Father frowned.
I gestured toward myself.
“I have refused military service, riding practice, archery, household work, and several things I probably forgot refusing. If refusing work is now treason, I would like advance notice.”
Lü Bu turned his head.
Father stared at me.
Then he laughed.
Not a small laugh either.
I waited with dignity.
This was a serious legal concern.
“You compare yourself to Cao Mengde?” Father asked.
“No. I have far more experience refusing work.”
Father laughed harder.
One clerk stared furiously at his brush.
Li Ru took the notice from him.
“The Young Master is joking,” Li Ru said.
“I wasn't.”
Li Ru ignored me.
He read the offending line again.
“Still, my lord, there is a distinction.”
Father's laughter faded.
Li Ru tapped the slip with one finger.
“Cao Cao has not raised soldiers. He has not attacked an officer of the court. At present, he is a man who fled an appointment and concealed himself.”
“An ungrateful man,” Father said.
“Ungrateful is excellent,” I said.
Father looked at me.
“I've survived it for years.”
His mouth twitched.
Li Ru continued before I could damage my standing further.
“If Cao Cao later claims that he fled in defense of the Han, let that claim come from Cao Cao. There is little advantage in declaring his flight rebellion before he does.”
Father looked again at the notice.
I reached toward the dish near his elbow and took a dried fruit.
Much better.
This was how government should function.
I made an inappropriate observation.
Li Ru turned it into policy.
Everybody had a role.
“Change it,” Father ordered.
The clerk bowed.
“Flight from appointment. Concealment under another name. The counties are to detain him if found.”
Excellent.
Cao Cao remained wanted.
But unemployment was no longer treason.
A victory for civilization.
Lü Bu unfolded his arms.
“If you want him returned, Father, I can go.”
The fruit stopped halfway to my mouth.
No.
Father actually considered it.
“How many riders?”
“Thirty.”
Thirty riders.
Lü Bu.
Cao Cao on some road east.
I had played enough Three Kingdoms games to dislike the matchup.
“Please don't.”
Father looked at me.
Li Ru looked at me.
Lü Bu looked at me.
Even one of the clerks looked tempted.
Lü Bu asked, “You think thirty are too few?”
“I think you are too many.”
His eyebrows rose.
Father leaned back.
“What does that mean?”
I put down the fruit.
“If a county patrol catches Cao Mengde, then a county patrol caught a fugitive.”
Father waited.
“If Fengxian personally rides across the countryside after him and Cao Mengde somehow gets away...”
I stopped.
Lü Bu was still looking at me.
There were endings to that sentence which might offend him.
I chose survival.
“...then everyone remembers that Father sent Fengxian.”
Li Ru's eyes moved toward Lü Bu.
He understood before Father did.
“A local pursuit keeps Cao Cao a fugitive,” Li Ru said. “Sending one of the best-known commanders in Luoyang tells every official and traveler on the road that Cao Cao is important enough to deserve him.”
Lü Bu frowned.
“I would catch him.”
“I believe you,” I said.
“That is why I objected.”
He stared at me.
“That makes even less sense.”
“It makes perfect sense from where I'm sitting.”
Father rubbed his beard.
Li Ru added, “The orders will also reach the eastern counties faster than General Lü could search every lesser road.”
Father finally nodded.
“Fengxian stays.”
Wonderful.
Lü Bu did not appear offended.
Even better.
Then he looked at me for several seconds.
Less wonderful.
Father turned back to the matter at hand.
“Where does Cao Cao go?”
“Home?”
Li Ru pulled one of the route tablets closer.
“His clan is in Qiao County.”
“Then home.”
“He knows we know that.”
“Then not home.”
Father's stare sharpened.
I looked between them.
“You asked where a man hiding under another name intends to go. If I know the answer, he's doing a poor job.”
Li Ru said, “You were more certain about Yuan Shao.”
“Yuan Shao argued with Father in front of half the capital and then left openly. Cao Mengde changed his name.”
That ended the comparison.
At least temporarily.
Li Ru turned the route tablet toward me.
I immediately disliked it.
It was not a map in any civilized sense.
There were place names.
Roads.
Distances.
All arranged with the confidence of people who already knew where China was.
I did not.
Li Ru touched one name.
“Qiao County.”
I leaned closer.
“That is farther than I thought.”
“How far did you think it was?”
“Closer.”
Li Ru looked at me.
“Very precise.”
“I have many gifts.”
The clerks began discussing likely roads.
Yingchuan.
Several county seats.
Then Chenliu.
My fingers stopped over the fruit dish.
Chenliu.
That name I knew.
Not because I understood the route.
Because I understood Cao Cao.
Chenliu.
He gathered men there.
Sold property.
Raised troops.
Several thousand.
Five thousand?
Maybe.
Enough that the difference seemed academic if they all wanted your family dead.
I took the fruit anyway.
Li Ru and the clerks continued.
Good.
Other people talking was one of my favorite political techniques.
Father interrupted them.
“If Cao reaches his clan, does he hide?”
Hopefully.
That sounded wonderful.
A quiet Cao Cao.
A small farm.
Perhaps calligraphy.
Maybe chickens.
History would suffer terribly.
I would recover.
Father was still waiting.
“I don't know.”
“You think him dangerous.”
“I think anyone becomes dangerous after Father asks me about him.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is becoming one.”
Li Ru changed the question.
“If Yuan Shao gathers men in the east, what does Cao Cao do?”
That was less pleasant.
I knew the broad answer.
Not exactly when.
Not exactly how.
But broad?
Yes.
“He probably joins somebody.”
Father asked, “Why?”
“Because being alone while everyone else chooses sides sounds unhealthy.”
Father grunted.
“And if he raises men himself?”
I looked at the route tablet.
Chenliu sat there quietly pretending not to be important.
Bastard.
“Then he says what Yuan Shao says.”
Father's expression hardened.
Li Ru asked, “Meaning?”
I had already explained this once.
I resented repetition.
“The court was coerced. Loyal men must restore order. He certainly does not say, ‘I ran away because I didn't want Dong Zhuo's job.’”
Father's gaze darkened.
“He would lie.”
“Probably.”
“You sound certain.”
“I have met men.”
Lü Bu made a quiet sound.
I chose to count that as support.
Li Ru looked back at the rewritten arrest order.
“The wording matters even more, then.”
Father followed his gaze.
I took another dried fruit.
This meeting had become much better since Li Ru started doing my thinking for me.
“If Cao Cao wants to turn his escape into loyalty,” Li Ru said, “he must build that story himself.”
Father nodded slowly.
“We give him no grand accusation to answer.”
“No public declaration calling him a rebel,” Li Ru agreed.
“No Fengxian chasing him across three commanderies.”
From the wall, Lü Bu said, “I am still here.”
“I know,” I said. “It's difficult not to.”
His mouth moved.
Very slightly.
Three days.
I had somehow become familiar enough with Lü Bu to recognize when he was almost amused.
This situation was deteriorating.
Father gave the order.
Cao Cao would still be arrested if found.
The charge would remain narrow.
No great reward.
No grand proclamation.
No heroic enemy invented on our behalf.
Reasonable.
Whether any of it mattered was another question.
Cao Cao had managed to become famous for nearly two thousand years without my assistance.
I doubted a revised document would defeat him.
Father dismissed the clerks.
I rose with them.
Father immediately said, “Not you.”
I sat again.
Naturally.
Li Ru began gathering the route tablets.
Father studied me.
“You will attend council tomorrow.”
“No.”
“You will.”
“I have plans.”
“With whom?”
I paused.
That was private.
Father waited.
“Possibly Miss Yue.”
“Possibly?”
“She has not yet been informed.”
“Then she will endure.”
Cruel man.
I tried another route.
“I already inspect the western holdings.”
Father said, “One storehouse.”
“It was a very complete storehouse.”
“You complained for half the journey.”
“That demonstrates thoroughness.”
Father ignored this.
Then he said, “You will have no office.”
I became suspicious.
Li Ru looked up.
Father continued.
“No military command. No soldiers under you. You will sit in council, listen, and answer when asked.”
I stared at him.
“No riding?”
Father said, “Unless necessary.”
“What qualifies as necessary?”
“I decide.”
Unfortunate.
I turned toward Li Ru.
“What exactly happens in council?”
Li Ru answered, “Reports arrive from Luoyang and the commanderies. Officials, troops, appointments, grain where relevant.”
“Grain has become relevant far too often.”
“You listen.”
“I already listen.”
Li Ru's brow rose.
“To whom?”
“Women, mostly.”
Father laughed.
Li Ru did not.
“You will listen to reports.”
“That sounds suspiciously like an office.”
“It is a room.”
“I dislike where this is going.”
Father looked amused now.
“You sit. You listen. You speak when asked.”
“And what do I receive?”
Father stared at me.
“For sitting?”
“Yes.”
“You receive permission to continue sitting.”
I felt something inside me die.
In my previous life, I had believed recurring meetings required computers.
I had been wrong.
Bamboo was sufficient.
“How often?”
Father answered this one.
“Each morning.”
There it was.
A recurring meeting.
I had crossed eighteen centuries and failed to escape calendar invites.
“How long?”
“Until I no longer want you there.”
That was not a duration.
That was a sentence.
I stood.
Father finally waved me away.
I bowed and headed for the door before another duty could identify me.
Behind me, Li Ru called, “Young Master.”
I turned.
“Council begins after the morning meal.”
I paused.
“After?”
“Yes.”
Some tension left my shoulders.
“At least civilization survives.”
I left.
Lü Bu followed.
Of course he did.
We crossed one gallery in silence before he spoke.
“You objected strongly to my pursuit.”
“I object strongly to many things.”
“Work.”
“Yes.”
“Riding.”
“Correct.”
“Archery.”
“Dangerous.”
Lü Bu glanced at me.
“Me.”
I considered him.
“Situational.”
That earned the faintest smile.
Then he asked, “If Cao Mengde raises troops, should I still have stayed?”
Chenliu.
Thousands of men.
Coalition banners.
Father eventually dead.
A future that was starting to feel less like something I remembered and more like something walking toward us.
“If Cao Mengde raises troops,” I said, “I intend to be much farther west when we discuss whose fault it was.”
Lü Bu thought about that.
Then nodded.
“A sensible plan.”
Finally.
Someone understood me.
“Thank you.”
He continued walking.
“Your father will never allow it.”
I stopped.
Lü Bu did not.
I stared after him.
I was beginning to dislike this family.