Chapter 068: The Seat of Honor (Second Update, Please Recommend)

Chapter 068: The Seat of Honor, Second Update—Seeking Recommendations

“Heading to the Eastern Three Counties?” Wei Yan tugged at the short beard beneath his chin, his gaze tinged with confusion. “Zhuge Qiao?”

Wei Ba nodded but remained silent. He had already recounted Zhuge Qiao’s visit and his recommendations of Zhao Guang and Fu Xing to his father. However, he hadn’t explained his reasons. If his father knew he was now inclined to oppose Chancellor Zhuge, who knows how he would react.

Wei Yan had no inkling of his son’s intentions; he was simply bewildered by Zhuge Liang’s appointment. If the Eastern Three Counties were important, he thought, a seasoned general should be sent. Zhuge Qiao had never fought a battle, and only five thousand troops had been assigned—what could that accomplish? Meng Da alone had over four thousand clan members there and had been campaigning for nearly twenty years. Zhuge Qiao was hardly equipped to deal with him.

If the Eastern Three Counties were unimportant, that made even less sense. Everyone knew they were the gateway to Hanzhong; reclaiming them was vital to Hanzhong’s security.

“The Chancellor’s arrangement is truly unexpected,” Wei Yan mused, unable to unravel the reasoning, sighing half in earnest, half in jest.

Wei Ba curled his lips but quickly regained his composure. Though he didn’t fully grasp Zhuge Liang’s intentions, he could sense that the arrangement was not purely military; there were political undertones as well. His father was remarkable in military matters, but nearly clueless in politics—he would never consider that aspect.

It seemed this trait was common throughout history: those brilliant in warfare were often inept politically. Victorious on the battlefield, they were defeated in the court. Figures like Wang Jian were rare indeed.

“Though the position of staff officer is neither high nor powerful, being able to work in the Chancellor’s office is itself a sign of his cultivation. You must be careful in your duties—not as reckless as you were before.”

Since he couldn’t make sense of it, Wei Yan stopped trying, adopting a stern tone to lecture Wei Ba, leaving his son amused. So you do understand these principles, yet fail to follow them yourself—like a Marxist flashlight that illuminates others but not oneself. But seeing his usually strict father nagging like an old gossip, Wei Ba felt a warmth in his heart and nodded in agreement, not begrudging his father’s pedantic ways.

“Since you’re joining the army, leave the maid behind. Having a woman around… ultimately undermines morale.” Wei Yan hesitated, perhaps thinking that the little maid with the large birthmark hardly matched the idea of beauty, but he still advised Wei Ba to leave Peng Xiaoyu behind, with Dunwu taking care of daily affairs instead. To ensure his son’s safety, Wei Yan personally selected twenty seasoned guards under Dunwu’s command and gave them special instructions before relenting.

“Father, I’d like to stop by the manor on my way.”

“Why return to the manor? Feeling homesick?”

“Before the campaign, I want to see Mother,” Wei Ba replied with a smile, then turned to Wei Feng. “Elder brother, do you have any message for Mother?”

Wei Feng scratched his head and laughed honestly. “I have nothing special to say—just greet her for me.”

“All right. There’s one thing I’d like you to help with, brother,” Wei Ba continued. “While I’m away, let Peng Xiaoyu stay with you. Don’t let anyone bully her.”

Wei Yan looked at his son in surprise, rebuking him with dissatisfaction. “Is a maid worth such concern? Ziyu, I find you’re losing your sense of priorities. A man should value achievements, not dwell on women—especially a maid.”

Wei Ba smiled, offering no explanation. He trusted his elder brother to care for Peng Xiaoyu. In truth, the three brothers were different from their father. Their father rarely interacted with Peng Xiaoyu, regarding her simply as a maid. To Wei Feng and Wei Wu, she was a pitiable girl with a tragic background, while to Wei Ba, she was half a strategist—far more than a mere maid.

Back in his own camp, Peng Xiaoyu had already packed his belongings neatly. Wei Ba explained his arrangements to her; she listened quietly, saying nothing but murmuring assent and lowered her head, fiddling with her sash.

“Well, my elder brother is easier to serve than I am. You’re free now,” Wei Ba said playfully. “Perhaps when I return, you won’t want to be my maid anymore.”

Peng Xiaoyu replied softly, “Young Master Feng is a good man.”

Wei Ba rolled his eyes, not responding. In his previous life, he’d received countless “good man” cards and understood that the phrase carried different meanings in different contexts. Peng Xiaoyu’s words likely held little emotion, but she had indeed pointed out Wei Feng’s weakness: honest and loyal, but lacking in adaptability—not even possessing their father’s assertiveness.

…

The next day, the Chancellor’s official appointment arrived at the Wei family’s camp. Wei Ba was named Staff Officer in the Chancellor’s Office, formally titled Assistant to the Chancellor’s Military Affairs—a seventh-rank position, two ranks below his father’s concurrent post as Chief Military Adviser, and equal to the likes of Yang Yi and Ma Su. Of course, this was merely on paper. In terms of seniority, Wei Ba couldn’t compare to those men; likewise, the Chancellor’s Office didn’t judge strictly by rank—different people in the same position held vastly different power.

Wei Ba’s specific duty was to assist Zhuge Qiao, responsible for arranging and transporting provisions for Zhuge Qiao’s army—a logistical role, not heavy, and not requiring him to lead troops into battle. The danger was minimal, reflecting his lack of military command experience. Wei Ba had expected as much; after all, he’d spent the past six months with his father handling similar tasks, so he was already familiar with the work.

In contrast, Zhao Guang and Fu Xing, both experienced in leading troops, were given more important roles. Fu Xing already had over two hundred clan members under his command; this time, Zhuge Liang assigned him an additional company of two hundred, making him a true captain. Zhao Guang likewise received a company of over two hundred, tasked with logistics and transportation, coordinating with Wei Ba’s work.

Among the dozen-odd staff officers and captains under Zhuge Qiao, eleven were sons of Jing and Xiang region civil and military officials. The only true outsiders were Zhao Guang and Mi Wei. Mi Wei, the son of Mi Zhu, had become head of the Mi family after Mi Fang surrendered to the Southlands and Mi Zhu died of shame. Despite following Liu Bei for years and attaining the rank of General of Anhan, Mi Zhu had no military merit and was never ennobled, so Mi Wei inherited no title. He was now only a nominal captain, commanding barely a hundred veteran soldiers—a rather desolate sight.

Mi Wei was assigned as Zhao Guang’s deputy. Though this seemed comparable to Wei Ba’s status, the difference was stark when considering Wei Ba’s staff officer position. Even Zhao Guang, captain of the logistics corps, ranked below Wei Ba, who didn’t command troops.

The army sailed down the Mian River, their destination being Anyang County on the western border of Weixing County. Traveling by boat made things easier for the soldiers and facilitated supply transport. The commander Zhuge Qiao rode a medium-sized warship, unostentatious but still distinctive among the mostly cargo vessels.

After the fleet set out, Wei Ba boarded Zhuge Qiao’s ship for the first staff meeting.

Wei Ba and Zhao Guang found most others already present. Fu Xing sat near the door; seeing Wei Ba enter, he smiled and nodded in greeting. Spotting an empty seat beside Fu Xing, Wei Ba was about to sit when Fu Xing quickly shook his head. “You can’t sit here—this seat is reserved for Zhongde.”

Wei Ba was about to ask why when Zhuge Qiao laughed. “Ziyu, come here. Though you’re in charge of supplies, you’re not a logistics corps officer—how could you sit there? Come, sit by my side.”

Wei Ba scratched his head in embarrassment. In his previous life, he’d never held office; though meetings at his company had their seating order, it was never as strict as in officialdom. In this life, he’d never attended a proper meeting, so he’d never experienced such protocol—his awkwardness exposed from the outset.

He walked over to Zhuge Qiao’s side. Zhuge Qiao sat at the main seat facing the cabin door, with two empty seats on either side. On the right sat the last person Wei Ba wanted to see: Yang Wei. Clearly, Yang Wei felt the same about Wei Ba; upon seeing him enter, his gaze turned vicious, his thin face taut from clenched teeth, the grinding audible. Wei Ba frowned, unwilling to sit near his enemy, and turned to the seat on Zhuge Qiao’s right.

Unexpectedly, as he stepped forward, Yang Wei sneered, “Staff Officer Wei, you may be talented, but you’re too conceited. Do you think, aside from Captain Zhuge, you’re the most distinguished here, aiming for the seat of honor?”

Wei Ba paused, realizing that in these times, not only did seat order matter, but left and right differed as well. The left side was more honorable than the right—the phrase ‘leaving the left vacant’ referred to this. In court, civil officials sat east and military officials west, marking the higher status of civil officials.

Wei Ba felt embarrassed but ignored Yang Wei’s sarcasm and turned to the vacant seat on Zhuge Qiao’s right. Just then, a voice sounded from outside the cabin, “Wait, let Staff Officer Wei take the seat of honor.”

——Second update, seeking recommendation votes and favorites.