Chapter 103: Sudden Calamity from the Sky

Wei Ba scratched his head, feeling that Zhuge Qiao was acting strangely, yet it was awkward to just turn and leave. He reluctantly said, “Go ahead.”

“If... this time you hadn’t accidentally broken the siege of Fangling, but instead Pan Zhang and Meng Da joined forces, how do you think the General Who Pacifies the North would deal with you?”

Wei Ba laughed, “He’d probably scold me, maybe even beat me, leave me with a sore behind, and make me lie in the camp for half a month.”

“Only that?”

“What else would there be?” Wei Ba feigned anger and glared at him. “Do you expect my father to kill me? War requires adapting to circumstances; there’s the chance to earn merit, and the chance to make mistakes. Who can guarantee they never slip up?”

Zhuge Qiao smiled silently, a smile tinged with loneliness.

“In the first year of Jianxing, I arrived in Chengdu.” Zhuge Qiao hugged his knees, gazing at the army camp fading into the dusk. His voice was drifting and low, almost inaudible. “Before that, like my elder brother, I was among the finest of the younger generation in the Wu Kingdom, admired wherever I went.”

Wei Ba remained silent but recalled Mi Wei’s appraisal of him.

“Because my uncle had been married for many years, over forty, yet had no children, he discussed with my father to bring me to Chengdu to continue his bloodline. For this, they even sought the king’s special approval. The King of Wu told my uncle’s envoy that sending a talented person to you was his greatest sincerity, hoping the chancellor would understand his intentions so that Wu and Han could maintain an ally relationship and avoid future conflicts.”

“I was pleased myself. Though I fancied myself talented, my elder brother was so outstanding there was little hope for me to inherit my father’s title. With my brother ahead, the king wouldn’t give me many chances, lest our family grow too powerful. Coming to Chengdu to inherit my uncle’s line was undoubtedly a very good choice for me.”

“So I came, full of joy. Hence my uncle became my father, and my father became my uncle.”

“Upon arrival, I was made Assistant Commander, then soon worked in the chancellor’s office. The people there liked me; I respected them, and they cared for me. The chancellor was strict but caring—he found time amidst his busy schedule to guide my studies. I studied Legalist texts like Guan Zi, Shang Yang, and Han Feizi. Before that, I only read Confucian classics, never touching Legalist works. But to fulfill my role as his son and inherit everything, I studied diligently. He taught earnestly, I learned earnestly; within two years, I had a basic grasp of Legalist scholarship. That’s quite fast, isn’t it?”

Wei Ba nodded, “Mastering Legalist thought in two years is indeed rapid progress.”

“Yes, I think so too. Moreover, I studied military strategy. I copied out so many military texts they filled a whole box. I also studied works on political tactics like Strategies of the Warring States, Guiguzi, and the Yellow Emperor’s Secret Classic. I studied day and night just to earn his favor.”

“He was pleased at first, praising me in front of Ma Su and others, even choosing a good marriage for me. My wife is from the Ma family of Xiangyang, very virtuous. Our son, Zhuge Pan, is only two this year—and very smart.” Zhuge Qiao suddenly smiled, his eyes shining briefly before the light dimmed.

“But the good times didn’t last.”

His voice turned somber again. “Since my younger brother Azhan was born, my father’s gaze toward me changed. He no longer cared about my studies or found time to talk to me. Whenever he had time, he’d go see Azhan.”

Wei Ba frowned and interrupted, “Bosong, you’re overthinking it. I don’t think the chancellor harbors ill will toward you.”

“You’re an outsider; I am an insider. These feelings come from firsthand experience.” Zhuge Qiao turned sharply, staring fiercely at Wei Ba. Wei Ba was startled to see red veins in his eyes; paired with that fierce expression, it was chilling. “Your father may be strict with you, but you’re his biological son. How can you feel such an innate distance? To you, he’s a stern father. To me, he’s a harsh uncle.”

“Ziyu, though the General Who Pacifies the North is strict, no matter what mistakes you make, he protects you. But me? I can’t afford any mistakes. Every step I take is cautious, walking on thin ice, afraid to err. If I make a mistake, he doesn’t scold me or tell me where I went wrong. He just sighs—deeply disappointed.” Zhuge Qiao buried his head between his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “Whenever I hear that sigh, my heart races. But often, I don’t even know what I did wrong. I rack my brains but can’t guess what he’s thinking, because... because he never tells me.”

“Ziyu, I know many envy me, but do you know? I envy you. I envy you the chance to make mistakes, envy you a father who shields you.”

Wei Ba stood abruptly. He couldn’t listen to this any longer—it was dangerous to delve too deep into someone else’s family matters. As the saying goes, even the clearest official struggles to judge family disputes, and he was no such official. Regardless of whether Zhuge Liang held such feelings, Zhuge Qiao’s mindset was somewhat extreme. Wei Ba did not want to side with Zhuge Qiao and become the chancellor’s enemy—that would serve no purpose.

“Bosong, you’re tired. Go back and get a good rest.” Wei Ba dusted off his clothes, cupped his hands, and turned to leave.

“Wei Ba, wait!” Zhuge Qiao stood up and shouted fiercely.

Wei Ba glanced back and raised his voice, “Bosong, you’re tired. Stop talking.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and ran. Zhuge Qiao reached out to grab him, but Wei Ba had practiced boxing here for months and knew every stone like the back of his hand—there was no way he’d be caught. Before Zhuge Qiao could react, Wei Ba had dashed far away.

Zhuge Qiao stomped his foot and cursed hoarsely like a night owl. Wei Ba paid him no mind and hurried down the mountain. This fellow had gone mad; better keep a distance to avoid catching fire and harming others.

Running back to camp, Wei Ba finally breathed a sigh of relief. When he entered the main tent, he saw Wei Wu bent over a desk, writing, with an empty bowl left on the table. Wei Ba looked around, puzzled. “Awu, where’s Xiaoyu?”

Wei Wu looked up, eyes somewhat unfocused, and asked blankly, “Miss Xiaoyu? I don’t know. Hey, brother, why are you just back? Come eat. Xiaoyu cooked lamb today—it’s delicious.”

“Eat, eat, all you care about is eating.” Wei Ba walked to the side tent and saw steam still rising from the pot on the stove. The fire beneath hadn’t died out. Nearby were scattered utensils, but no bucket in sight. Probably Peng Xiaoyu had gone to fetch water. Wei Ba lifted the pot’s lid, took out a warm leg of lamb, gnawed on it while returning to the main tent.

“Awu, how was today’s lesson?” Wei Ba asked vaguely while munching.

“Don’t mention it! Look at my hand—it’s all clawed from writing. Brother, soon you’ll have to let me soak my feet a while, and have Xiaoyu massage them.”

“Nonsense!” Wei Ba glared. “How does soaking your feet help after writing with your hand?”

“Same thing! Not only my hands are sore; my whole body aches—back, waist, legs cramp.”

“You’re just making excuses. When Father comes back and beats you up, you’ll be jumping around, no pain anywhere.”

“Heh!” Wei Wu exclaimed dramatically. “Brother, I see you’ve changed since fighting a battle. Have you killed someone? Has your heart turned hard?”

“Not just my heart; my hands are harder. Want to try?” Wei Ba threatened, waving his palm.

Wei Wu sighed, rolling his eyes. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let you apprentice under Old General Zhao. You haven’t learned any skills except scaring your little brother.”

“Who says I haven’t learned other skills?” Wei Ba said proudly. “Didn’t you see I scared Sima Yi off?”

“Beating just a scholar, what’s there to be proud of?” Wei Wu sneered.

Wei Ba was speechless; even the lamb tasted bland. The mighty Sima Yi had now been reduced to “just a scholar” in their eyes. Please, he was the most cunning scholar of the Three Kingdoms era, the founding figure of the Jin dynasty that unified the Three Kingdoms—not some ordinary scholar.

Still, Wei Ba had no grounds to argue. So far, Sima Yi had done nothing impressive. His first battle as general was against Zhuge Jin—a known weakling. Winning was no surprise; losing would have been. The second battle was a surprise attack on Meng Da, which should have been his breakout moment. Unfortunately, Wei Ba’s sudden appearance caused Sima Yi to lose troops and retreat to Wan City, reportedly awaiting punishment in Luoyang.

Thus, Sima Yi became synonymous with a useless scholar, on par with Zhuge Jin. By the same logic, defeating Sima Yi was hardly something to boast about.

Truly, a self-inflicted disaster.

Facing Wei Wu’s disdain, Wei Ba had no reply and vented his frustration on the lamb leg, gnawing it as if it were an enemy. After dinner, he patted his full belly, staggered out of the tent, and peeked into the side tent but saw no sign of Peng Xiaoyu. He called out but received no answer, muttering, “Where did that girl go?”

“Where were you just now?” A chilling voice came from behind. Wei Ba turned to see Yang Yi approaching with over twenty armored soldiers. With a wave of his hand, the soldiers spread out and surrounded Wei Ba, each finger poised on a crossbow trigger.

A cold shiver shot up Wei Ba’s spine. He shouted, “Yang Yi, what do you want?”

“To bring you back to the central camp for questioning.” Yang Yi sneered. “To ask why you dealt such a cruel blow to Zhuge Qiao.”

Wei Ba was stunned, blurting out, “What happened to Zhuge Qiao?”

“What happened?” Yang Yi’s eyes reddened, his teeth clenched. “He’s dead.”