Chapter Seventy-Nine: Night Conversations at the Prefectural Office

Two days later, Sheng Meizhen returned to Wu Commandery, bringing with him, of course, the twelve-year-old twin sisters, Da Qiao and Xiao Qiao. Da Qiao’s given name was Qiao Wan, Xiao Qiao’s was Qiao Meng. They were born into a Qiao family in Wan County, Lujiang Commandery. Still so young, these beautiful twins were not yet widely known. When they suddenly heard that the Cao family—whose ancestor had once held the highest offices—was seeking a marriage alliance with their humble household, their family was naturally both surprised and delighted, and agreed readily.

In Cao Hong’s eyes, the twins looked almost identical. He was quite curious as to how Sun Ce and Zhou Yu had managed to tell them apart in the future. The sisters were quintessential southern beauties, with crescent brows, fair and delicate skin, clear and luminous eyes. Though only twelve, their slender waists and graceful figures already showed promise. The Qiao family, though not prominent, lived in comfort, and their father was a respected local scholar. Thus, the sisters had never known the hardship of labor; their hands remained tender and white as jade.

When the sisters met their betrothed, their expressions showed little emotion. Like most women of their time, they submitted dutifully and paid their respects to Cao Hong. This left Cao Hong somewhat disappointed; these beauties, famed in history, seemed no different from ordinary girls upon meeting him, and were not nearly as lively as Sheng Meizhen. Yet beauty was beauty. Despite this slight disappointment, Cao Hong was secretly proud—he had gained two exquisite beauties and could now look forward to nurturing them, for they were only twelve.

After meeting the Qiao sisters, Cao Hong and Cao Ding held a conversation late into the night in the study. According to Cao Ding, after this talk, it might be a very long time before they could meet again, and they would have to rely on letters. For after Cao Xiu’s coming-of-age ceremony the next day, he and Chen Wen, the Inspector of Yangzhou, would both resign their posts and retire south to Yulin in Jiaozhou, seeking a peaceful life under the protection of the gentry.

To Cao Hong’s surprise, he found himself reluctant to part with this uncle, whom he had only met a few times. This reluctance seemed to stem partly from the emotions of the original Cao Hong, and partly from Cao Ding’s genuine care for him as an elder, or perhaps from the blood tie that naturally connected all members of the Cao family. Whatever the reason, he could not quite explain these feelings, but increasingly he felt as though he truly belonged to the Cao clan.

Cao Ding held in his hand the “Book of Formations” given by Gu Yong. From the day Cao Hong brought it back, Cao Ding had leafed through it, but had never commented on it. Now, on the eve of his departure, he held it again, clearly with something to say.

“Zilian, the methods of drilling soldiers in this ‘Book of Formations’ run counter to basic morality, yet those who achieve great deeds cannot be bound by minor scruples. Without extraordinary means, Bai Qi would not have become a general of renown. Yuan Tan, a man of letters and wealth in Yangzhou, naturally cherishes his reputation and disdains such tactics. Yet Mengde must face not only Dong Zhuo but all the warlords of the realm; he cannot do without fierce generals like Bai Qi. So, though I do not personally endorse the book’s ideas, I do not oppose your studying it.”

Cao Ding placed the book back on the desk and spoke calmly.

“Uncle wants me to become my elder brother’s Bai Qi?” Cao Hong asked, beginning to understand.

Cao Ding smiled, walked to the window, and gazed at the shifting shadows of the trees. “Your uncle would wish you to be both Bai Qi and Li Si, but history shows that neither met a good end.”

Bai Qi was a famed general of Qin; Li Si, the chancellor who aided the First Emperor in unifying China, standardizing script and measures, and who took part in the infamous burning of books and burying of scholars. He was a figure of immense weight in Chinese history. For Cao Ding to say this on the eve of his departure made his meaning clear: he recognized that the Han dynasty’s days were numbered, or he would not have made such a comparison.

Sure enough, Cao Ding sighed and continued, “I have served as an official all my life and have long seen that the Han realm is in ruins. Liu Ziyang, a member of the imperial clan, seeks to throw in his lot with Mengde. If even the imperial kinsmen turn their backs on their house, what of the people and ministers at large? Mengde’s call to arms against Dong Zhuo resounded everywhere, drawing many warlords to his banner, yet at Hulao Pass, all faltered. Mengde and Sun Wentai, after braving everything, met only defeat; Dong Zhuo’s westward retreat is all but assured. The emperor is exiled, villains run riot at court, and the great families tend only to their own affairs. Such are the signs of a doomed state.”

For an adopted son of a powerful courtier, it was not hard to see the rise and fall of a dynasty—especially for someone like Cao Ding, who had served from north to south, from youth to old age. He could not fail to perceive it. Yet, by sharing this with him tonight, was he hinting that he already saw an emperor’s potential in Cao Cao? At this very moment, even Cao Cao himself could not be sure of his fate.

At present, Cao Cao was merely the most promising of the new generation of the Cao clan—a young man devoted to his family’s fortunes.

“Uncle, I don’t quite understand. If I am Bai Qi or Li Si, then my elder brother is...” Cao Hong ventured.

Cao Ding turned and looked at Cao Hong kindly. “Zilian, Mengde is no ordinary man. When Dong Zhuo’s tyranny silenced the realm, only Mengde dared to raise his arm in protest. Despite defeat, he never lost heart. How many in this bustling world possess such courage and breadth of mind?”

Cao Hong nodded repeatedly. It was true; he had seen many who would cringe for a bowl of rice, betray their word for a tiny gain, or collapse into despair after a single setback. But never had he met anyone as clever, courageous, resilient, and charismatic as Cao Cao. Even if at times Cao Cao seemed sly or ruthless, these flaws did not obscure his remarkable virtues.

“Uncle speaks the truth. My elder brother is indeed extraordinary! I will certainly do my utmost to aid him,” Cao Hong said solemnly. Having now staked everything, he was bound to follow Cao Cao to the end.

Cao Ding smiled. “Mengde is indeed a man apart. Yet, Zilian, while assisting him, you must also know when to advance and when to retreat. And, Zilian, your uncle has always regarded you as his own son, so take this as a father’s advice: Mengde is your brother; you must never betray him. But if his descendants prove unworthy, it will fall to you, as their elder, to correct them!”

Cao Hong was taken aback. What was this? I must never betray Cao Cao, but if his sons go astray, I am to set them right? Did Cao Ding not know that one day Cao Cao’s son would become emperor? Wasn’t this, to my ears, a license for usurpation?

These words were so shocking that Cao Hong’s face paled. Cao Ding chuckled, “Do not be alarmed, Zilian. I was merely speaking in passing. Who can say what fate awaits our Cao family?”

With that, Cao Ding said, “It’s late. You should rest,” and turned to leave the study, leaving Cao Hong alone and dumbfounded.

“If the descendants prove unworthy, it falls to you to set them right?” Cao Hong mulled over these words again and again. This seemingly casual remark had already taken root in his heart, a seed of which he was yet unaware.