The lively atmosphere within Yecheng did not diminish in the slightest with the passing of the first month.
For the common people, compared with the imperial proclamation three months earlier announcing the defeat of the traitor Cao, it was clearly far more convincing to see Imperial Uncle Liu personally lead his army into Yecheng.
After all, for ordinary folk, daily life was filled with hardship. Piecing together the scattered rumors, guesses, slanders, and mockery heard in the streets was one of their few sources of amusement.
And previously, the person at the center of all such talk had undoubtedly been Imperial Uncle Liu.
If one went out to the fields, there would be countless stories about how Imperial Uncle Liu began his life weaving straw sandals, how he escaped from under Lord Cao's command, how he reunited with his sworn brothers and wandered through Ba and Shu, how he eventually recaptured Hanzhong and Guanzhong, and how he became a great threat to Chancellor Cao.
Those old farmers could easily recount ten or twenty different versions.
Judging from these tales, Imperial Uncle Liu capturing Chancellor Cao seemed almost inevitable.
The rumors that had filled daily conversation seemed to have reached their conclusion. Even though the people had not yet personally seen the once lofty Chancellor Cao bound in chains, the common folk no longer cared much about that.
Because from three months ago until now, from the Son of Heaven proclaiming the defeat of the traitor Cao, to Imperial Uncle Liu entering Yecheng, and then the Proclamation to Restore Han announcing the thirteen provinces of the empire, one thing had been confirmed again and again.
The war was over.
Weapons had been laid down across the land of Han.
Chaos was ending, and lasting joy would endure.
Thus even though it was now already the second month of the twentieth year of Jian'an, the common people still spoke of the events of the nineteenth year.
A man carefully broke a briquette of coal in half and fed it into the dying warmth of the pit fire in the center of the room.
The warmth increased slightly, and the snow that had just been collected in the pottery kettle beside the pit began to melt more quickly.
The flames stretched upward, supporting the earthen pot above them. Inside the pot, old millet mixed with boiling water and gradually released its fragrance.
"Add another briquette. Make the fire stronger."
"There is already enough. Why add more?"
"Come now. Since the twelfth month, Imperial Uncle has sent coal briquettes and millet every five days. It has never been lacking. I know very well there is still some stored in the house."
"Do not only think of today. Next winter the Imperial Uncle may not send them. We must plan for the coming year."
"What planning? The realm is at peace now. We simply farm our land."
"We two can farm. What about the children? I asked some of the Imperial Uncle's soldiers. In Guanzhong and Jingzhou, once children reach seven years of age they must start deciding whether to study or learn a trade."
"Hmph. What would a woman know? Do you even know where Guanzhong and Jingzhou are? Do not spread nonsense."
"How would I not know? Wasn't our eldest son killed in Jingzhou at Wulin when he followed that accursed traitor Cao? Not even a scrap of clothing was left behind!"
The woman's voice rose sharply.
Outside the wall, the passing Zhang Fei and Zhao Yun instinctively exchanged glances, both sighing quietly.
The two had arranged to walk together through the snow, but now they hesitated whether they should call out and try to comfort the people inside.
Fortunately, there was no further commotion in the house. After a moment of silence, the woman began speaking about people in the city who were exchanging money for coal briquettes. She mentioned her plan to sell some of the stored briquettes for money, perhaps to purchase supplies in spring, or even to save travel funds to cross the Yellow River and go to Luoyang once the weather warmed.
Hearing this, Zhang Fei and Zhao Yun did not linger any longer and continued down the street.
After leaving the northern gate of Yecheng, the two generals each mounted a horse. Riding into the wind and snow along the banks of the Zhang River, they headed north for half an hour, until the land before them was nothing but a boundless field of white and all signs of habitation vanished.
The outing had been decided on a whim.
It all began with Zhang Fei saying that since arriving in Yecheng he had not yet enjoyed the snows of the Yan Mountains.
Xuande himself was too busy, and General Guan was still recuperating from his wounds. Thus Zhao Yun had been dragged along to ride through the snow with Zhang Fei.
But the impulse also arose from the arrangements ahead.
Xuande, the Son of Heaven, and the civil and military officials would soon return to Luoyang. Zhang Fei was among them.
However, with the traitor Cao defeated, the lands of Hebei needed pacification and reassurance. Zhao Yun had therefore become the most suitable candidate to remain.
In other words, Zhao Yun would soon be able to return to his homeland and proceed toward the frontier of Han territory, while Zhang Fei could only look from afar at the "snows of the Yan Mountains" before eventually heading south.
Unexpectedly, as he looked at the snow that seemed to join heaven and earth together, Zhang Fei could not stop thinking about what they had heard earlier.
"When clothing and food are sufficient and the granaries are full… what the people desire is so simple, yet so difficult."
Zhao Yun answered only with silence.
Zhang Fei was not surprised. His fourth brother had long dealt with common folk during their time in Jingzhou. He was skilled in organizing agricultural colonies and understood the affairs of farmers far earlier than Zhang Fei himself.
Yet after speaking those words, the heaviness in Zhang Fei's heart soon eased somewhat.
For ensuring that "clothing and food are sufficient and the granaries are full" was precisely the aim of their elder brother and the strategist.
It was also the aspiration of everyone who followed them.
Whether cultivating culture, mastering warfare, devising stratagems, or training the army, in the end all their efforts sought only those six characters.
They found a large rock sheltered from the wind. Pulling some dry grass from beneath the snow and gathering a few branches, they sprinkled a little coal powder they had brought. Zhang Fei blew on a fire starter until the flames caught, then arranged three stones and placed a clay jug of wine upon them.
Before long, warm wine against the cold wind, the victory of the moment accompanied by snow and ice, brought a faint flush of intoxication to Zhang Fei's face.
"Ha. Who would have thought that after our Han, even the Imperial Heirloom Seal would be lost?"
Once the wine warmed him, the topic inevitably turned to what they had heard and seen days earlier.
"A pity the things we sent to later generations were mostly called fakes. Otherwise I would certainly think of a way to help them."
Though he did not say what method he had in mind, recalling the white bear incident at Gong'an County that had nearly caused a disaster, Zhao Yun felt he could guess part of it.
He instinctively glanced around to ensure the open field was empty before replying.
"Our elder brother spoke wisely. Rather than gifting the Heirloom Seal to later generations only for it to gather dust, it is better that we protect the realm and keep the people safe, so that such things are not lost at all."
Whether Zhang Fei truly heard the words was uncertain, because he soon began talking about something else.
"The Tang dynasty did not disgrace the prestige of our Han, though they nearly caused great chaos with all their turmoil."
"I plan to use Tang methods to organize the army and secure the frontier. If the border people could possess both Han customs and Tang elegance, our elder brother would surely praise me!"
At this moment Zhao Yun suddenly felt a little regretful.
Before and after last year's great campaign they had labored for nearly a year. Zhang Fei had strictly avoided wine in the army, and even in Yecheng he had declined many banquets.
Who would have guessed that he had been saving it for this moment.
No wonder the wine had smelled so sharp when it was warmed earlier. It was probably medicinal alcohol from the army physicians.
No wonder he had merely tasted the wine at the banquets in Yecheng. He must have grown tired of ordinary wine.
At this moment Zhao Yun suddenly remembered the name Wang Guangyang that had been mentioned by later generations. Their comment that "heavy drinking ruined important affairs" now seemed vividly illustrated before his eyes.
At least Zhang Fei had improved somewhat. By dragging him to this empty wilderness to drink, he had minimized the chance of causing trouble.
As expected, Zhang Fei belched and began pointing at nothing in particular.
"The Yongle Emperor could certainly be called a hero. Yet a blade bearing his name fell into the hands of barbarians to be treasured. Even if it was not his personal sword, it is still a disgrace!"
"That Hongwu Emperor, knowing this, ought to destroy the Qing court before it ever rises. Only then would my anger be calmed!"
"But that Hongwu Emperor has it difficult. Who knows whether Zhu Di is standing beside his father right now? Father, brothers, and sons are all caught in a dilemma. Alas that I cannot offer him some advice!"
Zhao Yun could only shake his head.
The Hongwu Emperor might indeed face difficulty, but at least they were family. Matters would surely not become too ugly.
If Zhang Fei truly offered advice, things might instead become irreparable.
With nothing else to do in the frozen wilderness, Zhao Yun listened to his third brother's drunken rambling as a form of amusement. When Zhang Fei finally fell silent for a long time, Zhao Yun urged him.
"Third Brother, what about the Song army map?"
"Not yet unified. What is there to discuss?"
Zhang Fei replied carelessly before leaning to the side.
"I am sleepy. I must nap for a while. Zilong…"
Before he finished speaking, he had already begun snoring.
Zhao Yun smiled helplessly. He removed his fur cloak and covered his third brother, then gathered more firewood to make the flames burn stronger.
Standing beside the fire while facing the wind and snow, Zhao Yun began practicing a set of fist techniques to warm himself.
Compared with his homeland farther north, the wind and snow here were quite mild.
But as his fists moved, Zhao Yun's thoughts drifted to something he had seen a few days earlier.
It was the marching map presented by the Song emperor.
Drawn in imitation of methods from later generations, it used simple lines to outline the offensive plan of the Song state.
Taking Henan as its base, the army would divide into two routes. One would march into Hebei to block Khitan reinforcements. The other would advance through Hedong to strike directly at Northern Han.
Against the Khitan forces they would display weakness with heavy troops to lure the enemy before advancing northward.
Against Northern Han they would disguise their forces under the appearance of agricultural colonies while secretly preparing siege equipment to quickly capture the city.
The subsequent plan was even clearer.
After defeating Northern Han, they would use its territory as a path to attack the Khitan from two directions. First they would seize Hebei and capture You and Zhuo prefectures, establishing fortifications there for defense.
Then they would gather strength and finally launch a three pronged offensive to defeat the Khitan.
From Zhao Yun's perspective, the Song emperor's plan resembled the reckless dash of his brother's chariot charge at Gaoliang River.
But by first securing Zhuozhou and gradually advancing toward Youzhou while adjusting troop deployment, the feasibility of the plan increased enormously.
If one further considered that this emperor was known for understanding both generals and soldiers, the chances of success would be even greater.
Whether judging from Zhao Yun's own experiences among the White Horse Volunteers in his youth, or from the historical records shown by later generations, affairs in Hebei had always been simple.
Whoever held Youzhou could close the gate of the Yan Mountains and secure Hebei.
As long as Zhuozhou was stabilized and Youzhou targeted, the plan would already be eight parts complete.
When spring arrived, Zhao Yun and his men would lead their soldiers north.
Their objective was exactly the same as the Song emperor's.
The security of Youzhou was the highest priority.
His thoughts ended, his fists came to rest.
Looking toward the north, Zhao Yun felt his fighting spirit surge.
He murmured softly.
"I wonder whether this year I will be able to eat Zhengding pears."