Chapter 086: An Unexpected Turn

Ma Su followed behind Zhuge Liang, stepping slowly into the command tent. From the way Zhuge Liang’s back was slightly bent, it was clear he had been tense just now. For this, Ma Su felt deeply grateful—Zhuge Liang had stood firm against all opposition to grant him this rare opportunity. This campaign to the west offered a great chance of success. If, as the vanguard general, he could achieve merit, who would dare call him an unseasoned scholar, the likes of Zhao Kuo, ignorant of warfare?

Yet, for Zhuge Liang, promoting Ma Su against the advice of others was a great risk. If success followed, it would certainly be a good thing, proving his judgment correct; he would then have a trusted confidant in command of troops, and his grip on military power would become even firmer. But should they fail, he would face a storm of criticism. Even as chancellor, second only to the sovereign, he could not disregard the outcry of the masses.

As Zhuge Liang’s confidant, Ma Su knew all too well how much courage it took for the chancellor to make this decision. Precisely for this reason, Ma Su felt all the more grateful, eager to render distinguished service and repay Zhuge Liang’s appreciation and trust.

“Prime Minister, you must be tired. Please, sit down and rest for a moment.”

Ma Su gently helped Zhuge Liang to the couch, then fetched a cloth, soaked it in scalding water, wrung it out to just the right dampness, and laid it over Zhuge Liang’s face. The pressure on Zhuge Liang these days was immense; there was hardly a night when he was not busy until late. His spirit remained strong, but his body was beginning to show signs of wear.

“Youchang, Meng Da has already risen in revolt; our plan is half accomplished. I only wonder what news there is from Jiangdong,” Zhuge Liang said, his voice muffled beneath the hot cloth. “I worry that Sun Quan may fail to keep his word, preferring to watch from the sidelines and profit from the chaos.”

“Prime Minister, in my view, that is unlikely. Last year, when Sun Quan saw Wei mourning a great loss, he set out to attack, but suffered a minor setback. He surely cannot swallow that insult.”

Zhuge Liang gave a bitter smile. In that battle last year, the general leading Jiangdong’s forces was his own elder brother, Zhuge Jin. The result was a swift defeat, a rout, thousands killed or wounded, even the deputy general Zhang Ba perished in the fighting. Was that truly a minor setback? Ma Su said so only to spare his feelings—Zhuge Liang knew the truth well enough.

The decision to launch the northern campaign at this moment was influenced in part by Sun Quan’s pride. After the deaths of Cao Cao and Liu Bei, Sun Quan liked to consider himself the most capable man left in the land, holding even Cao Pi in contempt, let alone Cao Rui. But then Cao Rui had dealt him a humiliating blow. Losing a general was one thing; losing face was far worse. Given Sun Quan’s temperament, he would surely want to regain his honor.

Zhuge Liang himself, meanwhile, had faced doubts after last year’s debacle. His elder brother’s defeat cast suspicion on his own abilities in command. If his eldest brother was no strategist, and their younger brother, Zhuge Jun, was but mediocre, then perhaps Zhuge Liang, too, was unfit to lead armies. Even his southern expedition the year before was being called into question. How could he silence such doubts except with an undeniable victory?

Of course, the northern campaign was not merely about defending his reputation—it was, above all, to fulfill the late emperor’s wishes. Still, that factor could not be denied. For this reason, failure was not an option. Wei Yan’s plan was good, but the risks were too great; any slip could cost over ten thousand elite troops—a loss too grave to accept, regardless of what victories might be won.

And then there was the matter of General Wei Yan.

Zhuge Liang’s feelings regarding Wei Yan were deeply conflicted. Wei Yan’s temper was as prominent as his talent—a sharp double-edged sword, dangerous to friend and foe alike. If only he possessed the restraint of Zhao Yun, how perfect he would be.

Zhuge Liang fell momentarily into a reverie, not answering Ma Su. Taking this as a sign that Zhuge Liang wished to rest, Ma Su quietly withdrew. Outside the tent, gazing at the distant green hills and white clouds, Ma Su exhaled softly, a smile beginning to form at his lips. Just then, Huo Yi strode quickly over. Seeing Ma Su at the entrance, Huo Yi stopped at once, bowed, and said, “Adjutant Ma.”

Ma Su’s smile vanished as he resumed his usual stern demeanor. Noticing the military report in Huo Yi’s hands, he frowned slightly, “Is that for the Prime Minister?”

“No, it is for you, Adjutant,” Huo Yi answered, presenting the report with both hands. Ma Su was surprised. He glanced at the document—the seal was untouched, indicating that the clerks had not opened it. Huo Yi explained, “The messenger specified that this is a personal letter from Adjutant Wei to you, so we did not enter it into the records.”

“There are no private matters in the army; you should have logged it,” Ma Su replied as he opened the letter. He felt a sense of urgency. Since the last trip to Anyang, Wei Ba had kept himself in check, sending any messages through Zhuge Qiao, never acting independently. Yet today, he had sent an urgent letter directly to Ma Su, using the seal reserved for military dispatches—something out of the ordinary must have occurred.

Ma Su broke the seal in Huo Yi’s presence and quickly scanned the contents. His brow furrowed at once. Without another word to Huo Yi, he turned and reentered the tent.

Zhuge Liang was already sitting up. “What is it?” he asked.

“Prime Minister…” Ma Su handed over the report. Zhuge Liang took it, noting the handwriting was not Zhuge Qiao’s, though it seemed familiar. “This is…”

“This was written by Wei Ba. Doesn’t it resemble your own calligraphy, Prime Minister?”

Enlightened, Zhuge Liang nodded repeatedly. “Yes, it does have a certain resemblance. No wonder it looked familiar—it’s my own! Ha! The boy has spirit. Why would he study my hand?”

“He admires you, Prime Minister; it’s only natural he would wish to imitate your calligraphy,” Ma Su said, hastily steering the conversation back. “Prime Minister, he says there may be unexpected developments with Meng Da.”

“Oh?” Zhuge Liang was startled, instantly setting aside any thoughts of penmanship as he read on.

The dispatch was brief and to the point. Wei Ba stated that Meng Da’s uprising was hasty and poorly prepared, making it likely that Sima Yi would quickly crush him. Should that happen, the plan to use Meng Da to distract Wei’s forces would fail. Presently, Zhuge Qiao had already advanced the front lines, but given the disparity in troops, Zhuge Qiao’s force was far too small to threaten the Wei army or provide Meng Da with real support.

Strangely, Wei Ba offered no suggestions at the end, abruptly concluding the letter. Compared to the earlier analysis, the ending felt sudden, as if he had stopped mid-thought.

Zhuge Liang stood, hands clasped behind his back, pacing the tent twice before halting before Ma Su, his expression grave. “Youchang, what do you think we should do?”

Ma Su was prepared for this question and answered at once, “General Bosheng’s earlier report already mentioned this concern, and his response was apt. Wei Ba’s insight shows intelligence. Since he wrote to me personally, he must hope I can persuade you, Prime Minister, to reinforce the Eastern Three Commanderies. Judging from the overall situation, I think he has guessed your intentions but is unsure, so he is sounding you out through me.”

Zhuge Liang nodded, “Indeed, the boy has a sense of the bigger picture—very clever. His indirect approach is well done.” After a pause, he continued, “How then should we support Meng Da? The army is about to march—if Meng Da is quickly defeated, our position will be seriously compromised.”

A heaviness settled over Ma Su’s heart. Zhuge Liang’s plan relied on Sun Quan in the east and Meng Da in the nearby Eastern Commanderies to draw Wei’s attention, buying time for the campaign in Longyou. Yet, with no news from Jiangdong, it was uncertain whether their forces had moved. If Meng Da also faltered, Wei’s response to Longyou would be swifter than anticipated, and time would run short.

That worry explained why, even though Wei Ba spoke only of a possibility, Ma Su dared not be careless. From Zhuge Liang’s expression, he too was aware of the danger. What made him more uneasy was that Zhuge Qiao’s previous reports had not mentioned any of this—not even that Meng Da was unprepared.

From his post in Mianyang, Zhuge Liang could not possibly know every detail about the Eastern Commanderies; some matters were at Zhuge Qiao’s discretion to report. Yet such crucial intelligence should not have been omitted, nor left unanalyzed. The only explanations were either deliberate concealment or a failure to recognize its gravity—neither excusable.

“To be safe, we should send five thousand more troops.”

“To whom will you entrust them?” Zhuge Liang glared, annoyed. “If he cannot command five thousand, how could he manage ten thousand?”

“But…” Ma Su forced a wry smile. “Who else is there? Do you mean to change commanders on the eve of battle, Prime Minister?”

Zhuge Liang waved his hand forcefully, as if shooing away a fly. Ma Su stood awkwardly aside, fully aware of the rift between Zhuge Liang and his son. Zhuge Liang’s standards were high, and few ever met his approval. For others, that might not matter, but Zhuge Qiao was his son—he could not let mistakes go unchecked. Thus, his expectations were near unforgiving; even the smallest error was intolerable.

In Ma Su’s view, Zhuge Qiao had likely realized his minor mistake but, fearing blame, had tried to conceal it, not knowing that this was an even graver offense.

All Ma Su could do was try to soothe Zhuge Liang’s temper, but he could not cover up Zhuge Qiao’s errors. His only advice was to trust Zhuge Qiao now, for to replace a commander on the eve of battle would only cause more harm. Such a move was anathema in the art of war.

Zhuge Liang understood this well. He sighed in dejection, “Then whom do you suggest?”

“Send Wei Feng. He knows the terrain of Hanzhong, has battle experience, and is steady.”

Zhuge Liang weighed the matter for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well.”

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