Before setting out with his army, Xiahou Yuan had never imagined that things would come to this.
At that time, his confidence had been absolute.
Last year at Tong Pass, he had shattered the combined forces of Yong and Liang. Those so-called allied armies had collapsed like mud chickens and straw dogs, vanishing in a single decisive blow.
After that victory, he reorganized his troops and followed his elder brother straight into Yongliang. If not for the bitter cold, the heavy snow, and the fatal shortage of supplies that forced a retreat, Ma Chao would already be bound and Yongliang pacified.
How could Liu Bei have found any room to interfere.
This thought surfaced, then was immediately suppressed.
Xiahou Yuan was not foolish. Regret was useless. What mattered now was survival.
The situation was painfully clear.
Ahead, Zhang Fei's reinforcements stood in disciplined formation.
Behind, Chencang had fallen, cutting off retreat.
What had once been a broad river valley road during the dry season had become a narrow gorge, trapping tens of thousands of men like fish in a basket.
Placed before him were only two obvious choices.
Advance, break the enemy formation, and seize Linwei.
Or turn back, march east, and retake Chencang.
Xiahou Yuan let out a bitter laugh.
Was there really a choice?
Last night's camp raid had thrown everything into chaos. The personal guards had fought desperately to drive Zhang Fei back, and more than half of them were dead or wounded.
The ordinary soldiers were terrified. Their morale was shattered. Their eyes no longer held the will to fight.
Charging forward now would be like smashing an egg against stone.
Only Chencang could still be considered a path of life.
"Form ranks," Xiahou Yuan said quietly. "Withdraw toward Chencang."
The order passed from mouth to mouth, from officer to officer.
As it spread, something changed.
Light returned to the soldiers' eyes.
If they could retreat to Chencang, there would be walls to block the wind, houses for shelter, charcoal to keep warm. They could finally escape this freezing, humiliating battlefield.
Xiahou Yuan looked toward the distant enemy formation. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
If he could hold Chencang, stabilize morale, and make the men understand that survival required fighting for the city, then perhaps there was still a chance.
Cavalry dominated open battle, but siege warfare was different.
Desperate soldiers could still fight like madmen.
This was the best ending Xiahou Yuan could imagine.
Unfortunately, Liu Bei had no intention of allowing it.
He waved off Zhang Fei's request to fight and gave an absurdly simple order.
Follow them.
Not charge. Not harass heavily.
Just follow.
The Liu army marched when the Cao army marched. Rested when they rested. Maintained a distance that was neither close nor far, like a shadow that could never be shaken.
From morning until the sun dipped westward, Xiahou Yuan remained tense, waiting for an attack that never came.
Instead of relief, rage exploded inside him.
"That butcher dares humiliate me like this."
The intent was obvious. Xiahou Yuan and Du Xi both understood.
The enemy wanted their army to collapse on its own.
And as night approached, the pressure only grew. They still had to guard against a possible night raid.
"Split the camp," Du Xi suggested. "Outer camp on alert, inner camp sleeping."
It was the best solution he could offer.
Xiahou Yuan waved weakly, telling him to handle it.
Then he stared eastward into the pitch-black gorge.
The road here had not felt long when they came.
Going back… would they even make it?
A bowl of hot food before nightfall barely stabilized the troops. Clinging to that warmth, the inner camp soldiers fell asleep as quickly as possible, hoping to keep it a little longer.
On the perimeter, several Cao soldiers huddled beneath a wooden barricade, pulling their clothes tight against the wind.
A small charcoal brazier flickered weakly between them, offering a pitiful amount of heat.
They cursed the weather, complained about fate, then fell into silence as the cold crept deeper.
Then someone spoke.
"What's that?"
"What, did Liu Huangshu finally attack?" another muttered, unwilling to stand.
Then came several sharp gasps.
Curiosity won. The man tightened his clothes and looked in the same direction as the others.
He froze.
The two camps were not far apart. In front of Zhang Fei's camp, several piles of coal burned bright red, glowing like small volcanoes in the night.
The sight was painfully clear.
Several Cao soldiers stood up and did not sit back down. The wind cut their faces, but envy burned hotter.
Behind them, the tiny brazier was forgotten. Without bodies blocking the wind, it flickered twice and went out.
At that moment, the forward sentry stiffened.
"Who's there?"
Even he did not realize how weak his warning sounded.
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Fan Jiang.
He held no weapon, only raised a wooden bucket.
"Brothers, standing guard is hard work," he said. "By order of Huangshu, I've brought hot soup for you."
The soldiers exchanged glances, unsure whether to raise the alarm.
Fan Jiang chuckled, lifted the lid, and steam rolled out, carrying a rich, comforting fragrance.
Eyes widened instantly.
He set the bucket down and backed away, speaking clearly.
"We are all Han men. What hatred is there between us? Huangshu raises arms to punish traitors, not to kill Han soldiers."
"This soup was prepared by physicians of Jingzhou. It drives out cold and prevents illness. Drink it, or pour it out. The choice is yours."
Then he disappeared into the darkness, his footsteps deliberately loud as he left.
Silence fell.
The steam thinned. Someone finally spoke.
"If he's gone, no need to signal…"
One voice led to many.
"I've heard Liu Huangshu is benevolent."
"We're just common soldiers. Are we really traitors?"
"If Zhang Fei wanted us dead, would he bother with this?"
Agreement spread quickly.
Fan Jiang returned to camp light-footed.
The burning coal piles radiated terrifying heat. Sweat formed on his back.
Thinking of the amount of coal burned and the number of soup buckets delivered, his heart ached.
"Military Strategist Pang really doesn't know how to save money," he muttered.
Before the coal fires, Liu Bei shook his head in admiration.
"Shiyuan's plan is excellent. Within three days, the Cao army will collapse."
Pang Tong smiled calmly and bowed.
"It still depends on my lord's careful command. The longer they remain trapped, the greater the chance of self-collapse."
Liu Bei waved his hand and looked toward the dim Cao camp.
"Then we shall see the result."
Direct assault would have won quickly, but Han blood would have flowed.
This way was slower, costlier, but as Xu Shu once said, Han blood had already flowed enough.
For the next few days, Liu Bei openly followed Xiahou Yuan and occasionally sent small harassment attacks, slowing the march.
At night, coal fires burned. Hot soup was delivered.
No alarms were raised. Zhang Fei's men came and went easily.
Xiahou Yuan even felt satisfied.
Though followed, morale was visibly recovering.
At this rate, perhaps they could counterattack at the gorge exit, then strike Chencang.
Then on the third night, Fan Jiang lingered after setting down the soup.
"Brothers," he said quietly, "when attacking Chencang in a few days, remember to stay back. Arrows do not recognize faces. Dying for nothing would shame your parents."
The soldiers fell silent.
One shook his head.
"Attack Chencang? We're returning there."
Fan Jiang looked surprised.
"Three days ago, Zhao Yun and Ma Chao captured Chencang with over ten thousand cavalry."
"Xiahou Yuan is rushing back to save it. You didn't know?"
Panic spread.
They believed him immediately.
Trust had already been built.
Now everything made sense.
Chencang was not refuge. It was a battlefield.
The soup no longer smelled good.
One soldier spoke.
"Brother… can you take me to surrender?"
Fan Jiang made a troubled face, exactly as instructed.
"This concerns your families. Think carefully. If you insist, come here tomorrow night."
He left.
Behind him, muffled arguments erupted.
Zhang Fei squatted nearby and whispered, "Brilliant plan."
Pang Tong smiled.
"If we shouted it, it would be rumor. If they spread it, who would doubt it?"
That night, soldiers began slipping away.
They gathered around dying coal embers, stretching their bodies, sighing in relief.
Liu Bei arrived and grabbed a man.
"Not afraid of implicating your parents?"
The man waved him off.
"I'm from Jianghuai. Flood in Jian'an second year. People ate people. My parents died."
Liu Bei fell silent.
Drums sounded from the Cao camp.
The soldier panicked.
"Huangshu won't make us charge first, right?"
Liu Bei looked toward the chaos.
"Warm yourself. You will not be first."
Inside the Cao camp, Xiahou Yuan was awakened.
"General, mass desertion. The camp is collapsing. What do we do?"
Xiahou Yuan did not know.
Outside, chaos.
Shouts everywhere.
"Chencang has fallen!"
"Better surrender to Liu!"
Rage exploded.
"That butcher uses filthy tricks!"
"Zhixu, follow me. Even if we die, I'll spit in Zhang Fei's face!"
No response.
He turned.
Du Xi's guards rushed him.
Bound. Gagged.
Du Xi wept.
"General, forward is death, backward is death. Dying here only grieves Cao Gong."
"Please endure humiliation. Preserve yourself."
Then he shouted.
"General Xiahou has surrendered!"
Within three days, the army collapsed.