TKTWC 17

Chapter 17

Departure!

“I know.” Liu Yi smiled, propped herself up, and looked directly at Xiao Shan in the dim light.

“Listen, Xiao Shan.”

“Right now, you might think taking the money and running is disloyal to me, or that it betrays all these years of our bond. But don’t think that way—because I’m different from you.”

“I help you, I help the others in the household, I help the people of Yuyang—because I have the ability to do so.”

“I save your lives because right now, I can save your lives.”

“If I didn’t have that ability, I would abandon you without hesitation. So you don’t need to be grateful to me.”

After she finished speaking, the room fell silent.

Xiao Shan stood there at a loss, her big eyes welling up with tears: “…I still don’t understand.”

“You will understand someday.” Liu Yi closed her eyes and fell asleep.

—

After two final days of intense grain-loading work, the convoy was finally ready to depart.

Governor Liu had tried every possible way to slip some of his own trusted men into the transport team to look after Liu Yi, but Liu He kept finding excuses to refuse.

Liu Yi told her father to give up.

“Even if they got in, Liu He would just reassign them as soon as we left Yuyang. And even if he didn’t, if they stayed too close to me, they might notice I’m a woman—that would only make things worse.”

Governor Liu knew his daughter was just comforting him, but there was nothing he could do.

On the day of departure, very few came to see them off—only Governor Liu and Madam Qian.

Afraid of Liu He’s retaliation, Governor Liu had sent word early to stop the commoners from coming to bid farewell. And Xiao Shan had already been sent away by Liu Yi.

In the end, Liu Yi left her hometown alone, on a single horse.

—

The grain carts were arranged according to Liu Yi’s plan—the modified ones at the front, the rest in pairs side by side, with supply wagons bringing up the rear.

The accompanying soldiers walked alongside the grain carts on both sides—both to control the formation and to guard against enemy ambushes.

Many of the main roads in Yuyang Commandery had been specially repaired—some wide enough for three or four carts to travel side by side. But since the carts were pulled by oxen, donkeys, and other livestock, reorganizing the formation would waste time, so they kept them in pairs.

Because of the livestock, the convoy couldn’t move fast anyway.

Ancient infantry could march about thirty to forty li per day on average, or sixty to eighty li in forced marches. At that speed, they could reach Guangyang in fifteen to twenty days.

But the grain carts were more than twice as slow. Even with no accidents along the way, the journey would take over a month.

That was why military strategy always emphasized “send the supplies before the troops”—because if they all set off together, the grain would never keep up with the main army…

Liu Yi certainly wasn’t going to walk.

Her current title was the temporary “Grain Transport Officer” appointed by Liu He—though the imperial court had no such position—but it was still an official role. Apart from Liu He, no one in the entire convoy had the authority to order her around.

She had asked her father for a sturdy brown horse and rode alongside the convoy.

When the horse got tired, she’d get off and walk. When she got tired of walking, she’d ride again. Her own baggage could be carried on the horse, so she didn’t have to entrust it to the supply wagons where Liu He’s men might rifle through it.

If she needed to relieve herself during the day, she’d ride around under the pretext of inspecting the convoy and find a secluded spot.

At night, she’d find any random tent, eating and sleeping squeezed in with the common soldiers.

She had initially worried about the inconvenience of touching up her makeup so no one would notice she wasn’t a man, and had packed some face powder. But that turned out to be completely unnecessary.

Out here, mud and sweat covered her within days. After just two days, her face was filthy, and with a weary expression, from a distance she looked less like a man or woman and more like an exhausted ape.

As long as Liu He didn’t come looking for trouble, she could blend into the army unnoticed.

As for Liu He, he and Young Master Tian rode in a carriage every day and slept in a large tent specially set up for commanders, rarely showing himself.

On the two occasions Liu Yi caught sight of him, he looked clean and well-rested, showing none of the fatigue of marching.

But Liu Yi wasn’t naive enough to think Liu He had let bygones be bygones. Every day, she would randomly stop a few grain carts, sprinkle some lime, poke around a bit—pretending to ensure the grain stayed fresh.

She needed to show everyone that she was an important figure in this transport mission—the MVP, indispensable.

In truth, these little gestures didn’t actually do much.

But what was bound to come, came anyway.

“Transport Officer, Master He says we’ll be entering the mountain roads tomorrow. He requests your presence for a discussion.”

On the night they left Yuyang Commandery, a messenger found Liu Yi in the corner of a tent and delivered Liu He’s order.

“Understood.” Liu Yi touched the dagger and face powder in her bosom and followed the messenger.

Liu He wasn’t a first-timer at leading troops—he surely knew how to navigate mountain roads. Summoning her was just a pretext.

They arrived outside the commander’s large tent. The messenger peeked through the tent flap and said to her: “Young Master Tian is inside discussing matters with Master He right now. You can go in once he comes out.”

“Alright.” Liu Yi was in no rush to go in.

Just then, an exaggerated burst of laughter came from inside the tent—Liu He’s voice. A few words drifted out, like “Dong Zhuo” and “Yuan Shao.” Liu Yi quickly leaned closer to eavesdrop.

Yuyang was far from the Guandong region where Luoyang was located, so news lagged. She had been so busy these days that she had no idea what was happening outside.

She’d listen while she could.

“You—” The messenger hadn’t left yet. He pointed at Liu Yi, his jaw nearly dropping—as if to say, “You’re eavesdropping this blatantly?”

Liu Yi glanced at him and made a shushing gesture.

The messenger didn’t know whether to leave or go inside and report, frozen in place.

Liu Yi wasn’t afraid of him tattling. She focused on listening to Liu He and Young Master Tian.

She caught more phrases—”depose the Young Emperor” and “establish the Prince of Chenliu.”

From just those few words, Liu Yi realized that the late Han had reached a critical juncture.

Dong Zhuo had entered the capital.

Who was Dong Zhuo? A warlord from the Western Liang region. He had once been ordered by the court to suppress the Yellow Turbans, but like many ambitious men in this chaotic era, after defeating the Yellow Turbans, he refused to return his troops to the court and built up his own power instead.

At that time, in the Luoyang palace, three factions—eunuchs, royal in-laws, and scholar-officials—were locked in bitter struggle. General-in-Chief He Jin made a decision that modern netizens would jokingly call the “worst idea in history”—he invited the heavily armed Western Liang warlord Dong Zhuo to come help him crush the eunuch faction.

But before Dong Zhuo even arrived, the three factions had already massacred each other in a bloody round—and He Jin himself was killed.

When Dong Zhuo finally arrived, he swept up everything. He deposed the Young Emperor Liu Bian, installed the even younger Prince of Chenliu as emperor, took full control of the court, and declared himself supreme, accelerating the collapse of the Eastern Han.

Of course, later scholars also analyzed that the Han dynasty’s fate was already sealed by then. Even without Dong Zhuo, there would have been a Wang Zhuo or a Li Zhuo—the outcome wasn’t decided by He Jin alone.

But Liu He couldn’t see that far ahead right now.

He was busy mocking He Jin’s stupidity with Young Master Tian.

There was plenty of profanity—Liu Yi had no interest in that. She pulled her head back. The messenger, who had been nervously sweating the whole time, finally wiped the cold sweat from his brow.