The historical evolution of Guanzhong was, in truth, not especially complicated.
After the fall of Qin, Xiang Yu—seeking to prevent the future Emperor Gao of Han from marching north out of Hanzhong—enfeoffed three former Qin generals as the Kings of Yong, Sai, and Zhai, stationing them across Guanzhong and northern Shaanxi. Among the common people, they were collectively called the "Three Kings of Qin," a name that gradually became a geographic designation.
During Emperor Wu's reign, three offices were established: the Capital Commandant (Jingzhao Yin), the Left Fengyi, and the Right Fufeng. They governed the eastern, western, and northern approaches to Chang'an respectively, forming a protective ring around the capital. Hence the region came to be known as the Three Auxiliaries.
As time passed, the titles themselves faded into place names.
Fufeng lay west of Chang'an. The Wei River flowed through it from west to east, and the Chengguo Canal diverted the river to irrigate the fields. Though not the very heart of Guanzhong, it was still fertile land by any measure.
Yet ever since the Yellow Turban uprising in the first year of Zhongping, ambitious powers from Yong and Liang Provinces had repeatedly raided Guanzhong.
And the first to be shattered—
Was Fufeng.
—
That Ma Jun now stood here could be credited, in no small part, to Pang Tong and Fa Zheng.
Had they not swiftly broken Yangping Pass and reclaimed Hanzhong, the people of Guanzhong would never have fled south.
Had Ma Jun not escaped to Hanzhong, once the dust settled in Guanzhong, whether he would have lived at all was anyone's guess.
Thinking of this, Kongming sighed, then spoke with quiet relief:
"I serve under the Imperial Uncle as Military Advisor-General.
My name is Zhuge Liang, courtesy name Kongming, of Yangdu in Langya."
Ma Jun nodded politely.
Then paused.
He tapped the small model in his hands and said simply:
"…Excellent."
Without another word, he picked up chisels, saws, and files from beside him, clearly intending to test Kongming's suggestion in practice.
"Deheng suffered from jiănchī in his youth," Fa Zheng explained softly.
"Though much improved, his speech remains terse."
Jiănchī—a stammer.
Kongming nodded with complete understanding.
His gaze followed Ma Jun's hands as the tools danced. He could not help but marvel—what a pair of skillful hands.
As for the improvement to the waterwheel, Kongming had merely offered a conceptual direction.
To Ma Jun, however, it posed no difficulty at all.
With a fine saw, he cut a small piece from the plank. A chisel shaped it roughly; a file refined it bit by bit. Wood shavings scattered across his clothes and hair, yet he seemed entirely unaware, absorbed in shaping the gear's teeth.
Then, as if he had already envisioned everything, he began carving directly into the model. Each cut was decisive, never hesitant, as though the design already existed clearly in his mind.
Watching this, satisfaction gradually filled Kongming's expression.
When Ma Jun finished modifying the wheel and spun it by hand to test the effect, Kongming spoke without hesitation:
"Deheng—would you be willing to come study engineering under Imperial Uncle Liu?"
His tone was unusually direct, for his thoughts were already elsewhere.
"Under Imperial Uncle Liu, engineering is promoted, mathematics valued.
We investigate the principles of things and establish formal standards of craft."
"In Jingzhou, engineering bureaus have forged ironworks and great ships.
In Yizhou, engineering has produced sugar mills and paper workshops."
"When Chang'an is recovered, the Imperial Academy will open courses in engineering."
For Ma Jun, a puzzle that had troubled him for days was suddenly resolved.
The excitement in his heart was beyond words.
Listening to Kongming speak with such assurance, only one thought remained in Ma Jun's mind:
Coming to Hanzhong… was the right choice.
Last year's wars in Guanzhong had further devastated the barely recovering Fufeng. At the time, the people stood at a crossroads:
Go east and submit to Cao's armies, only to be sent off as garrison settlers?
Flee west to Yong–Liang, surviving beneath the hooves of Han Sui, Ma Chao, and the Qiang?
Or enter Hanzhong and submit to the teachings of the "Rice Bandits"?
The answer arrived swiftly.
Zhang Lu lost Hanzhong and fled to Chang'an, bringing firsthand news:
Hanzhong was once again under the Liu clan!
One of the heroes who drove Zhang Lu out was none other than Fa Xiaozhi of Fufeng!
With these two factors combined, the people of Fufeng made their choice almost instantly—
Southward, without question.
Ma Jun arrived in Hanzhong in a daze, expecting little more than a new place to farm.
Instead, he soon noticed soldiers erecting waterwheels along the Han River, following detailed diagrams.
Machines powered by flowing water alone, operating autonomously.
Intricate linkages between multiple mechanisms.
His eyes lit up.
Observation. Study. Modeling.
Before long, he grasped the principles of the waterwheel.
After volunteering to repair two of them, Ma Jun caught Fa Zheng's attention—and today, was finally introduced to Kongming.
Though Ma Jun understood only half of what Kongming said, he grasped the core meaning perfectly.
Craftsmanship could be called learning.
Not something mocked by ignorant officials in Chang'an.
That alone—
Was enough.
He wanted to say I would be honored, but overwhelmed joy sent his speech back into stammers:
"I… I… I…"
Fa Zheng felt his heart tighten, wishing he could speak in his stead.
Kongming smiled gently and waved a hand, then shifted the topic:
"Did you enjoy engineering even as a child?"
Ma Jun nodded vigorously.
"Have you ever considered the ultimate limit of engineering?"
At this, Ma Jun's eyes grew uncertain.
Classics and discourse were never his strength. And in these chaotic times, warlords rose and fell faster than crops in the field—impossible to predict.
So he buried himself in work.
Engineering was the one thing he was good at, the one way he could help his village.
But the ultimate limit of engineering…
Seeing his expression, Kongming pressed further.
Talent in strategy and governance was plentiful—but in engineering, they were desperate for the right people.
Even Liu Ba had gone to study the methods of Chengdu's workshops, mastering mathematics and Mohist principles to teach the junior academy.
"Human strength has limits," Kongming said softly.
"But the power of engineering does not."
"Given time—why should we not, through engineering, soar across the heavens, probe the deepest depths, circle the oceans and map the world—approaching the abilities of spirits and gods?"
Fa Zheng recalled visions of future ages he had glimpsed, and felt a quiet stir in his heart.
Ma Jun, however, was so stirred that his stammer worsened.
Fa Zheng cut in decisively:
"If you're willing, Deheng—just nod, and follow Kongming."
Ma Jun nodded so hard he looked like a pecking chick.
Fa Zheng and Kongming exchanged a smile.
"Then come," Fa Zheng said, already turning.
"I'll take you to see Jiang Wei."
—
Jiang Wei was in a study hall.
Though his master had gone to Yong–Liang, Jiang Wei was hardly relaxed.
He trained his body, studied military texts, and still attended classical lectures.
The result—
Classes were finished, yet he lingered, stealing a moment of rest.
With his head on the desk, he rolled it lazily—then suddenly clapped his hands.
He pulled out a sheet of paper and carefully wrote:
Jiang Boyue
I have a courtesy name!
Propping his chin, Jiang Wei wondered what Master Fengchu had been thinking, giving him one so early.
But recalling how his master had gone home and left him behind, he grew a little indignant.
Before setting down the brush, he wrote another name:
Pang Shiyuan
Then, after hesitating, another:
Fa Xiaozhi
Pouting, Jiang Wei felt his masters were becoming increasingly casual.
So much anticipation—and yet it was just the ordinary "Bo, Zhong, Shu, Ji" pattern.
Wait.
Didn't he have another master?
Scratching his head, he recalled the name Fengchu often mentioned and wrote it carefully:
Zhuge Kongming
At that moment—
The door flew open.
Jiang Wei instantly leapt up, book over his head, shouting:
"Captain Huang! I was merely consulting the classics—no idling, I swear!"
Then—
He heard a soft chuckle.
Everyone in the Hanzhong office was familiar to him.
This voice was not.
He lowered the book cautiously.
A man stood there, elegant as a jade tree in the wind.
Beside him stood Fa Zheng, looking helpless.
Behind them was a young man, barely twenty, clearly lost in thought.
And the leader—
Like Master Fengchu, he carried a feather fan despite the chill.
Yet in his hands, it felt natural, enhancing an air of warmth and transcendence.
Kongming gestured for Fa Zheng to stay silent, crouched to meet Jiang Wei's gaze, and smiled.
"I am Zhuge Kongming."
"I am your master."
Jiang Wei's eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead.
"You're my master who can curse people to death and use magic?!"
Fa Zheng's stern expression vanished—he looked ready to burst out laughing.
Kongming's smile cracked for just an instant before recovering.
"That," he said calmly,
"is Fengchu's exaggeration."
He filed the remark away mentally, then began asking about Jiang Wei's studies.
The more he asked, the more he frowned.
Without Pang Tong present, Jiang Wei's schedule was overflowing—classes from dawn to dusk, even physical training before bed.
"From now on," Kongming said,
"Morning studies remain. After the midday meal—come find me."
Master Fengchu was instantly forgotten.
"Master, it's already midday! I'll take you to eat!"
"Master—what are we doing this afternoon?"
—
Behind the Hanzhong offices, Huang Quan looked at the sun past its zenith, then at the empty training ground, and ground his teeth.
"That brat Jiang Wei!"