Chapter Seven: Controversies Abound Before the Great General’s Gate

At this time, the climate of the Eastern Han was exceptionally pleasant. Although Luoyang lay in the north, it remained warm. The sun shone gently upon one’s skin, radiating a comforting warmth that was truly delightful.

The bustling streets of Luoyang were alive with activity. Except for the imperial avenue in the center, which no one dared to tread, the streets on either side were crowded with people weaving back and forth—ox carts laden with goods, officials’ carriages, shops lining the roads, and street vendors—all vividly displaying the grandeur of the Han capital.

With the new emperor's ascension, a general amnesty was declared throughout the realm. Shops and businesses adorned their storefronts in festive decorations. Though there had been a brief period of turmoil, the people of Luoyang recovered swiftly, leaving no visible traces of the unrest.

Fei Qian and Uncle Fu had just taken their leave from Fei Min, the head of their family, and were preparing to return home. Fei Qian was still a reserve officer without any ceremonial escort, so naturally, he had to walk.

Though the transaction had been completed and Fei Qian had achieved his purpose, he still felt uneasy. The sensation of being manipulated by others was deeply unsettling.

He was simply too insignificant.

Without prestige.

Without connections.

Without a solid foundation.

“Mount Beiman…” Fei Qian murmured to himself. “Perhaps it’s worth taking a risk and snatching the chestnuts from the fire? Ah, Uncle Fu, let’s take a detour to Jiaomao Gate and have a look.”

Upon learning that their family’s collection of books was to be “temporarily stored” by their patriarch’s household, Uncle Fu felt reluctant but had no choice. Yet he did not utter a single word of blame toward Fei Qian. Instead, he said he had failed Fei Qian’s late parents by not safeguarding the family properly. Throughout their walk, he silently wiped away tears several times behind Fei Qian’s back.

Startled by Fei Qian’s words, Uncle Fu nearly collided with him. “What did the young master say? Jiaomao Gate? That’s where the residences of the Grand General, the Three Excellencies, and other nobles lie. What business do we have there?”

Since Liu Xiu established the capital in Luoyang during the Eastern Han, successive emperors had continuously repaired and expanded it into a vast metropolis. The city measured six li and eleven steps from east to west, and nine li and one hundred steps from north to south, earning it the nickname “the ninety-six city.” Its area was immense and densely populated, with twelve city gates: four on the southern wall, two on the northern, and three each on the eastern and western walls. The aristocratic families mostly resided near the Upper East Gate along the East Avenue, within the neighborhoods of Buguangli and Yongheli, prized for their convenient transportation and proximity to the royal northern palace.

To the north of Jiaomao Gate in the southeast, an area was specially designated for the residences of the Grand General, the Grand Commandant, the Minister of Works, and the Minister over the Masses, to showcase their eminent status.

Fei Qian had just come out of the Yongheli neighborhood, where the Fei family patriarch lived. He was originally headed back to his residence on Yongmen Street, but now he intended to turn southeast toward the Grand General’s mansion.

Fei Qian recalled that He Jin, the Grand General, had been lured into the palace by eunuchs and killed, triggering a series of events. To understand the timeline, he needed to ascertain the current status of He Jin.

Fortunately, the Han dynasty had not yet descended into the barbaric caste system of later eras. Commoners, as long as they caused no trouble and did not linger within three hundred steps of official residences, were left alone. So, observing from afar was no problem.

Before Dong Zhuo’s madness threatened to lay waste to Luoyang, this city was arguably the world’s second largest. Its dense population, thriving commerce, and rich culture stood in stark contrast to the nomadic Huns still tending their flocks, or the paved streets of Rome, which astonished the uncultured Europeans.

This brilliance, nurtured by the Han, was now on the verge of destruction at the hands of a brute warrior…

Had too much time practicing martial arts caused his brain to be overrun by muscle?

Fei Qian thought sardonically as he walked. Before the Han, Xiang Yu, with his strength, had set fire to the Epang Palace in a fit of madness; now, the equally unstable Dong Zhuo was about to burn down Luoyang…

Many of the top ten warriors of the Three Kingdoms also seemed to have let their muscles crowd out their brains—Lu Bu’s Wolf Cavalry was among the finest cavalry of the time, alongside Chen Gong, Zhang Liao, and Gao Shun’s elite infantry. They had the best soldiers and strategists, yet Lu Bu met his end at the White Gate Tower…

Then there was Guan Yu—not the villain often portrayed. If he studied the Spring and Autumn Annals daily as claimed, why did he still make careless mistakes? The historian Sima Qian of the Western Han revered the Annals as a profound guide to moral and political order. Guan Yu, who had read it for over a decade, still faltered, losing Jingzhou through arrogance. Had Liu Bei not been confined to the limited resources of Yizhou later, the Three Kingdoms might have played out very differently…

Zhao Yun was an exception—though historically, he spent most of his time on campaigns, leading only a segment of the army before handing over command. Unlike Wei Yan, who governed Hanzhong independently for a long stretch, Zhao Yun only guarded Jiangzhou during the brief period of alliance between Shu and Wu. Was he not loyal enough? After all, his heroic rescue of Liu Shan at Changban Bridge had been soaked in blood.

So many mysteries surrounded the Three Kingdoms…

Take Grand General He Jin, for example. Why did he, as if his mind were scrambled, summon Dong Zhuo? His sister was Empress Dowager, his nephew the emperor. He had just eliminated his greatest rival, Jian Shuo, and should have been basking in victory’s fruits. Why suddenly invite such a troublesome ally?

Fei Qian stood far from the Grand General’s mansion, watching eunuchs groveling in tears outside, begging for forgiveness and audience. He could not quite understand.

Since Jian Shuo’s death, it had become a common sight in Luoyang for eunuchs to flock to the Grand General’s residence, kowtowing and offering pledges of loyalty daily, hoping for a meeting to prove their repentance and dedication.

Of course, the Grand General scorned them, saying: “When I was at odds with Jian Shuo, you all sided with him. Now that he’s dead, what good are you? Go find a cooler place!”

The eunuchs responded that even if they were refused, their loyalty shone as bright as the sun and moon. If not today, then tomorrow they would come again, always checking in before work to show their allegiance.

Fei Qian smiled faintly. “The Grand General’s mansion is quite lively… so many people…”

Uncle Fu, overhearing, said, “Young master, whenever I visit the market, the people there remark that this scene before the Grand General’s mansion has been constant. Today is actually less crowded than usual; it’s said that at times, the street before the gate is packed with kneeling eunuchs and their carriages stretching all the way to the street entrance!”

Fei Qian’s interest was piqued. The reduction in eunuch crowds did not necessarily signal good news. Upon closer inspection of the attendants’ carriages, he noticed only minor officials and low-ranking eunuchs were present—no high-ranking central eunuchs.

Turning to Uncle Fu, he asked, “So, the central eunuchs used to come here?”

“Reportedly, yes. They came often not long ago. Besides, without the central eunuchs leading, these others wouldn’t dare come,” Uncle Fu indicated the group of small eunuchs still kneeling outside.

“Used to come… now no longer…” Fei Qian mused. “Uncle Fu, please inquire at the shop across the street—when was the last time the central eunuchs came here to beg forgiveness?”

Though puzzled, Uncle Fu agreed and soon returned. “Young master, I asked several merchants nearby. They hadn’t paid much attention, but said it seemed the central eunuchs’ procession hadn’t been seen for three to five days.”

“I see!” Fei Qian said. “Uncle Fu, let’s hurry home. Also, send a message to the Cui family—they should expect a visit to their estate tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

Fei Qian nodded. “Tomorrow. If we delay, we might miss our chance!”

If the chief eunuchs had not appeared for several days, what could they be doing? Surely not attending to state affairs. Fei Qian did not need to guess—they were most likely scheming to eliminate He Jin.

Three to five days had passed; chances were their plans were nearly complete. These eunuchs were ruthless enough to castrate themselves without hesitation. In cruelty, they were unmatched.

He Jin’s good days were over. Once he died, the imperial guards would storm the palace, plunging the court into chaos. The central eunuchs would be dragged down with him, and soon the two emperors would flee to Mount Beiman under cover of night.

It was time to make his presence felt.

To establish a foothold in the chaotic Three Kingdoms, one must have some capital.

Fei Qian thought to himself: no wonder the original accumulation of capital was so bloody. Grand General He Jin, I have no means or standing to save you. If so, let your blood pave this turbulent path!

Even a low-ranking clerk can have wisdom.

Liu Xie and Liu Bian were like modern company chairmen; such figures were not easy to approach and rarely left lasting impressions on lowly employees. But if one day the chairman came casually to visit a branch office and slipped on a watermelon rind, the first clerk to help him up would surely be remembered deeply and might rise swiftly—provided he was not incompetent.

Now, Fei Qian wanted to be that clerk who helped the chairman, regardless of whose watermelon rind it was!