Prologue 14: Sincerity Is the Ultimate Weapon

A few months is not a long time, yet so much can happen within it.

During the months Shi Shouxin was imprisoned in the Yeting prison, numerous major events unfolded in Luoyang city.

First, Empress Dowager Guo, the compliant tool of the Sima clan, unexpectedly passed away after openly breaking ties with them for reasons unknown.

Officials mourned her death, and the entire city wore mourning attire for three days.

Since Empress Dowager Guo was elderly, her death was not particularly surprising. What truly shocked everyone was what happened after her passing.

Having lived most of her life under the shadow of the Sima family, she was essentially a nodding automaton, rarely causing them any real trouble.

Yet, perhaps sensing her end was near, she summoned the courage to make one last bold move.

While palace maids were preparing her body, they discovered a “last will” hidden beneath the insoles of her shoes.

In this letter, Empress Dowager Guo stated plainly:

Because I offended the Grand General (Sima Zhao) over the matter of the Duke of Gaogui Xiang, I might have died an unnatural death. Facing death, I realize I have wasted much of my life and must speak these truths.

I am but an old woman; my death is fate and not regrettable. Yet I deeply regret my inability to stop the Sima clan’s usurpation of power and apologize to the Cao family.

The death of Cao Mao is my responsibility. Thinking of these matters brings tears and heartache.

I hope to be forgiven by the ancestors of the Cao family in the afterlife. While alive, I tried to protect some upright officials in court; after my death, they will surely be suppressed and slaughtered by the Grand General.

I am an old woman, no match even for a three-year-old child, let alone the all-powerful Sima clan. I am powerless regarding court affairs.

I hope these loyal officials, upon seeing this letter, will govern cautiously and not waste their lives.

Former Emperor, I am truly ashamed before you.

I only wish that when the court buries me, they cover my face with paper and perform a civilian burial, so that the previous emperor in the afterlife will not be angered upon seeing me.

The exposure of this letter caused uproar and shock throughout the court and the city.

Upon learning of this, Sima Zhao was so furious that he smashed every item in the Grand General’s study that very day.

As the saying goes, a person’s final words are often sincere. Empress Dowager Guo, knowing her body was failing, let out decades of pent-up grievances in one breath.

Sima clan, return the dignity you owe me!

Before her death, using a poisoned dagger, she stabbed Sima Zhao in the back.

That blow cut deeply.

Never underestimate the madness and recklessness of a woman burning with fury.

All talk of family, nation, or harmony is nonsense! I don’t care how many die!

With death imminent, Empress Dowager Guo’s one thought was:

Sima Zhao, let me slap you hard to vent my anger!

Just days after her passing, Chen Tai of the influential Yingchuan Chen family, a political ally of the Sima clan, died in a fit of anger and vomiting blood at home.

He might have died at any time, but his death now seemed to confirm the letter’s claim that upright officials feared dying at the hands of the Grand General.

Perhaps Chen Tai sought to cleanse his family’s taint of the Sima misfortune with his own life.

The dead cannot speak; the most embarrassed was Sima Zhao himself.

But it didn’t end there.

Ji Kang, a renowned scholar and court official, resigned by placing his official robe on his desk and leaving for his hometown to live in seclusion—without a word to anyone.

Previously, to consolidate power, Sima Zhao had recruited many so-called “notables” from civilian society—mostly young aristocrats and commoners without official posts—to serve as advisors in the Grand General’s mansion.

Men like Li Yin started their careers this way; it was a key method for the Sima clan to win hearts.

But after Empress Dowager Guo’s letter surfaced, many who had agreed to serve resigned and returned home, refusing to play Sima Zhao’s game.

Fearing a collapse, Zhong Hui advised Sima Zhao to petition the court to resign as Grand General.

Of course, this was not a real resignation but a formality to let the new emperor Cao Huan refuse the petition, providing an official explanation.

Then, quietly handle the matter; no matter what the letter said, she was already dead.

As long as Sima Zhao wasn’t embarrassed, anyone else could be.

You are powerful; I can’t argue with a dead person, so I’ll just cover my ears.

The dead will gradually be forgotten by the living.

Criticism will eventually subside.

Sima Zhao decided to feign death and play dirty.

One must admit, this tactic worked well; if you can’t win head-on, drag it out.

Yang Hu had already recounted the whole story to Shi Shouxin, who simply remarked: “In this world, debts are always paid eventually.”

By now, both had left Yeting prison and were working at the Shaofu office south of the Luoyang palace.

Though called “working,” their tasks were copying books and drawing diagrams.

Yang Hu selected important volumes from the library, and Shi Shouxin diligently transcribed them onto paper—not silk scrolls for imperial edicts, but real paper.

Light and portable, copying bamboo slip texts onto paper was among the Shaofu’s duties.

On his first day out of Yeting, Shi Shouxin had Yang Hu act as his matchmaker to formally propose to the Li family; now, he could no longer meet Li Wan or visit her home.

Li Wan was confined at home, forbidden to leave until the wedding day.

Currently, Shi Shouxin lived on a farmstead in the eastern suburbs of Luoyang, with two tenant families as neighbors, “jointly” managing a hundred acres of fine farmland.

He didn’t need to work the land himself—only to collect rent come autumn.

Yang Hu’s salary was meager: just twenty dou of hulled grain monthly, comprising millet and wheat, paid daily.

Every day after work, Shi Shouxin collected his “wages,” and if he skipped work, no pay—very pragmatic.

Though about one dou a day, it wasn’t all for food.

He needed to buy livestock for labor, a stone mill for the home, repair the house, and purchase essentials like firewood.

He had to sell grain for money to buy these necessities.

Shi Shouxin began to understand why Li Wan’s rough hands were so calloused—if Li Yin wasn’t corrupt, that salary was insufficient for a luxurious life.

The children in households without official positions usually had to do farm work.

Li Yin held power but not necessarily wealth. These days, unless one was a Tianlong aristocrat, life was never lavish—even officials struggled.

The low salary wasn’t Yang Hu’s stinginess; it was the court’s standard. If anything, Yang Hu even gave Shi Shouxin a bit extra.

By those standards, the highest officials received about ninety dou monthly—though aristocrats possessed countless lands and homes and did not rely on such salaries.

As the wedding day approached and preparations were completed step by step, Shi Shouxin’s mood grew increasingly restless.

One day, Yang Hu granted him half a day off and gifted him five strings of cash to handle wedding errands.

Shi Shouxin pocketed one hundred wen as pocket money, locking the rest safely away at the Shaofu office.

Humming a tune, he left the office and made his way east toward home, his steps light and cheerful.

He had endured countless hardships and come through them all.

Li Wan truly loved him, and the entire Li family—including Li Yin and his brother-in-law Li Gu—approved of him.

Shi Shouxin was content with the match.

Though he had yet to achieve any great feats, by some twist of fate, he had found a partner who truly matched his soul—and that was comforting.

Yet, just outside the city, passing by a pond, Shi Shouxin was suddenly stopped by a scruffy old man wearing patched hemp robes with tangled hair.

“Young master, look at that shining thing in the pond,” the old man said, grabbing his arm and pointing.

“Sir, that’s a prize voucher. You can redeem it at any convenience store outside Beijing’s fifth ring for a fifty-thousand-yuan grand prize.

“You should squat down and pick it up slowly. I have business and can’t stay to accompany you.”

In a good mood before his wedding, Shi Shouxin teased the old man and turned to leave.

What the heck! Scams like “playing hard to get” existed even in ancient times.

He laughed inwardly and ignored the old man.

“Don’t call me sir, young master. Have mercy and help me retrieve it, please,” the old man pleaded shamelessly, smiling as if not offended.

He paid no mind to Shi Shouxin’s dismissive words, as if he hadn’t heard.

Had Shi Shouxin’s wealth been revealed?

Remembering the hundred wen still in his sleeve, Shi Shouxin sighed, rolled up his trousers, and stepped into the shallow pond to retrieve the shining object.

Small but heavy, it was a brocade pouch embroidered with a large pearl, containing—many gold beans and pearls.

The sparkle came from that large pearl reflecting sunlight.

This wasn’t some cheap scam. The contents were of immense and incalculable value.

That large pearl alone was priceless and unmarketable, worth to the highest bidder.

Shi Shouxin remained wary but handed the pouch to the old man.

“Here you go, sir. I have business to attend to; I’ll be going home now.”

He waved and walked away, checking the pouch in his sleeve—fortunately still there.

Though unclear on the situation, it seemed unrelated to him.

“Young master, don’t go! Please don’t go!” the old man hurried after him, running swiftly without a hint of fatigue.

He raised the pouch and whispered, “Young master, this windfall includes you. How about we split it evenly?”

“No thanks, sir. You keep it. I have business,” Shi Shouxin said, escaping and quickening his pace.

“Ow! My leg!” came the old man’s shout from behind, apparently having fallen.

Shi Shouxin reluctantly turned back and helped him up.

“Young master, since you helped me retrieve the pouch, I won’t let you work for nothing. We split the money half and half,” the old man said playfully, winking.

Shi Shouxin studied the man carefully. Despite his messy hair, his skin was well cared for; only his appearance was shabby.

His true age was likely much younger than he appeared.

Though his hemp robe was worn and patched, it was remarkably clean, almost spotless.

It looked like a fashion statement for social media.

His facial hair and eyebrows seemed carefully groomed, perhaps even more so than Li Wan’s silky hair, and he emitted the scent of sandalwood.

Most notably, he bore a striking resemblance to Sima Zhao, though his features seemed less mature.

Looking a bit simple-minded, Shi Shouxin wondered—did Sima Yi have a foolish son?

Strange thoughts flashed through his mind, but he chose to be straightforward and stop teasing this fool.

“Sir Sima, if you have something to say, just say it. The Grand General never hid anything from me. I’ve met him and the heir multiple times.

“You two really look very similar,” Shi Shouxin sighed, unveiling the truth.

He was busy and had no time to play this game of humility with some Sima family member.

The Sima genes were dominant; all the brothers bore some resemblance.

“Really that obvious?” the “old man” looked genuinely surprised, not pretending.

Shi Shouxin was speechless, unsure how to respond. He had thought his act was better.

“Uh... I am Sima Liang, currently serving as General Who Guards the West. You must have heard my name,” the old man said seriously.

“Shi, I heard that when Sima Zhongda faced Zhuge Kongming, his concubine gave birth to a son.

“Because of this, Zhongda named the boy Liang—is that you?” Shi Shouxin asked, puzzled.

For those involved, this was a shameful story.

It reflected Sima Yi’s inability to defeat Zhuge Liang and his self-delusion in naming his son after the rival.

A kind of spiritual victory fantasy that “Zhuge is my son.”

The real Sima Yi would likely feel betrayed.

Unexpectedly, Sima Liang proudly said, “Exactly! Though they were enemies, they respected each other. My father placed great hopes on me, wishing I had Zhuge Kongming’s wisdom.”

Sima Liang felt no shame—just pride, as if Shi Shouxin complimented him.

Even Shi Shouxin’s gaze softened somewhat.

Uh, that probably wasn’t what Sima Yi intended, Shi Shouxin thought, but said nothing.

He imagined Zhuge Liang, knowing this in the afterlife, would feel insulted.

Well, as long as Sima Liang was happy, others’ opinions didn’t matter. He lived in his own emotional world peacefully.

In a short time, Shi Shouxin accompanied Sima Liang through his emotional journey.

Now, Sima Liang also fell into this strange mood and found Shi Shouxin increasingly likable.

“Sir Sima, shall we sit by the pond and talk?” Shi Shouxin nodded toward the pond.

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Sima Liang agreed.

They sat on a large stone by the pond. Sima Liang sighed and asked, “Are you really not afraid of angering me and dying? Is that Li family lady so important to you?”

“Yes, very important. Because, good or bad, she is part of me.

“The faint candlelight belongs to me; the bright moon in the sky belongs to the heavens.

“Which is better or worse doesn’t matter; I only cherish what is mine.”

Shi Shouxin pointed at a sparrow fluttering by and continued, “Sir Sima, see, I am that sparrow. You can easily shoot it down.

“But the sparrow flying doesn’t care what you think; even if you shoot it, it still doesn’t care.”

“Alright,” Sima Liang nodded, seeming to understand somewhat.

He said helplessly, “You marrying into the Li family has nothing to do with me, no matter the outcome.

“I only came to Luoyang for the Duke of Gaogui Xiang’s funeral.

“The Grand General, for his own interests, wants me to marry his youngest daughter to you, forcing me with no refusal.

“I’m powerless, but can I refuse?”

“The Grand General is currently hoping you’ll kill me with a knife,” Shi Shouxin quipped.

“Yes, then he investigates, exposes it, lets me be criticized by court and people, and finally he defends me.

“He does the bad deeds; he acts as the good guy.

“Tell me, am I innocent? I’m just another sparrow flying in the sky, a slightly larger one,” Sima Liang complained.

“So you came to thank me?” Shi Shouxin asked.

“Isn’t that why? I gave you the pouch, but you didn’t want it,” Sima Liang smiled wryly.

Thankfully, Shi Shouxin had stood firm against Sima Zhao’s threats; otherwise, how could this drama end? Would they really marry the precious daughter off to a commoner like him?

Or would someone just kill him outright?

Sima Liang didn’t want to be involved at all.

“Sir Sima, in a few years, there will be many military affairs in Guanzhong.

“If I join the army there, please look after me,” Shi Shouxin said, taking the pouch filled with gold beans and pearls, grinning as if to test the waters.

Sima Liang suddenly understood and laughed along.

Everything was unspoken but understood.

Li Yin, Shi Shouxin’s future father-in-law, would soon become the military governor of Guanzhong.

Sima Liang was the General Who Guards the West in Guanzhong Wei forces, nominally subordinate to Li Yin but effectively balanced so neither side dominated.

Betting on Shi Shouxin, Li Yin’s son-in-law, the future would be interesting.

Sima Zhao worked to win hearts; so did Sima Liang.

Ruining Li Yin’s beloved daughter’s marriage, indirectly pushing her into the fire pit as a concubine for Sima Yan, then eliminating Li Yin’s favored family support to weaken the Li clan’s power.

Such hatred could only be described as implacable.

Yet, Li Yin was expected to have a good relationship with Sima Zhao’s half-brother and cooperate sincerely on military affairs.

Sima Liang didn’t know what schemes Sima Zhao had in mind.

Had their second brother been made Grand General and become so foolish as to treat everyone like fools, thinking they would all follow his lead?

Had this fourth brother become that stupid in Sima Zhao’s eyes?

Sima Liang was deeply perplexed.