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Fei Qian returned to the courier station, but the more he thought about it, the more something felt off.
That dinner…
It had been incredibly strange.
It wasn't about the food or the wine—it was the relationship between those two men. On the surface, they seemed perfectly harmonious, toasting each other and offering dishes politely, yet Fei Qian couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.
The Yingyang Zheng Clan might not be as illustrious as the Hongnong Yang Clan or the Runan Yuan Clan, but they were still a prominent local family.
The Zheng family had produced many great Confucian scholars and high-ranking court officials.
There was Zheng Xing, a renowned Confucian scholar and a master of the Zuo Zhuan commentary. Alongside another scholar, Jia Kui, they were known as the "Zheng-Jia School," forming a significant academic tradition.
Then there was Zheng Xing's son, Zheng Zhong, who had served as Protector-General of the Western Regions, Governor of Wuwei, and later as Minister of Agriculture, famous for his upright and unyielding character.
And now, Zheng Tai of the Zheng family held the position of Attendant Censor.
Given such a prestigious, well-connected, and cultured family background, Zheng Jian's behavior seemed…
Too subservient.
Throughout the banquet, Zheng Jian had never stopped smiling, carefully maintaining the atmosphere and even telling amusing anecdotes to liven things up. But to Fei Qian, it felt like watching an employee at a modern-day corporate dinner, plastering on a smile no matter how ridiculous the boss acted—whether drunk, pretending to be drunk, genuinely refined, or downright vulgar—always clapping and cheering from the sidelines.
Fei Qian had attended countless banquets in his past life—some where a single person dominated the show, others that felt like grand theatrical performances, and plenty where people played minor roles.
Yes, that was it.
Zheng Jian gave him the impression of an actor on stage, performing in a grand play, his face covered in thick makeup, his smile painted on.
But why the act?
Even if he weren't a member of the Yingyang Zheng Clan, any ordinary scholar from a respectable family would have quickly grown cold toward someone like Guo Pu—a rough military man. No matter how high Guo Pu's rank was, if they didn't get along, they simply wouldn't. Their worlds were too different to even hold a proper conversation, let alone maintain a constant, ingratiating smile.
If Zheng Jian were some master of social maneuvering, desperate to climb the ranks by cozying up to Guo Pu, that still wouldn't make much sense.
After all, Guo Pu was just a minor Commandant, and his elder brother, Guo Si, was only a General of the Household. If Zheng Jian wanted to curry favor, wouldn't it be more effective to go straight to Dong Zhuo or Li Ru? Besides, Zheng Tai of the Zheng family was already right under Dong Zhuo's nose—someone who could at least get a word in. Why bother pandering to Guo Pu's moods?
Was he trying to flatter Fei Qian?
Fei Qian smirked. That made even less sense. As a Left Aide of the Imperial Secretariat, he had no official connection to the Hangu Pass Commandant. Moreover, his teacher, Cai Yong, was famously unaffiliated with any faction—a fact known throughout the realm. There was absolutely no benefit in sucking up to Fei Qian.
More importantly, if Zheng Jian were such a smooth operator, why had he remained stuck as the Hangu Pass Commandant for four whole years?
The Han Dynasty had annual minor evaluations and triennial major assessments. By now, he should have had opportunities for promotion.
So what was Zheng Jian really after?
Was he scheming against Fei Qian?
They had no prior grievances, and this was their first meeting—why would he?
Was he plotting against Guo Pu?
That seemed more plausible. But Zheng Jian was just the Hangu Pass Commandant. Military authority lay with Guo Pu. The pass garrison had two thousand soldiers—one thousand original troops and another thousand left behind by Dong Zhuo. Even if Zheng Jian wanted to make a move, he'd have to contend with Guo Pu's thousand Liangzhou troops.
This was giving Fei Qian a headache. As long as Zheng Jian wasn't targeting him, he couldn't be bothered to care. He'd just leave early tomorrow, pass through Hangu, escort the convoy a little further, and then turn back to Luoyang.
Beyond Hangu Pass was Xin'an, and further west was Mianchi—all under Dong Zhuo's control. With Dong Zhuo's troops stationed in Mianchi, safety shouldn't be an issue.
×××××××××××××××
Inside Hangu Pass's inner city, Zheng Jian's face was dark as he held a letter over a candle flame, watching it burn. Only when the fire nearly reached his fingers did he toss the remnants into a brazier, staring until the paper was completely reduced to ashes. His jaw clenched briefly before he finally spoke to a courier standing below the hall.
"Return to the station. Do not act rashly—just keep watch. Report immediately if anything unusual occurs."
"Yes, my lord!" The courier bowed and withdrew.
Once alone, Zheng Jian slammed his fist on the table in frustration. "That damned brat! Ruining everything!"
With Guo Pu stationed inside the pass, carrying out certain plans had already been difficult. Now, a carefully arranged scheme had been disrupted by Fei Qian.
In the Han Dynasty, mobilizing troops required cumbersome procedures—unless the number was under fifty, in which case no tiger tally was needed. Zheng Jian had gone to great lengths to gather around a hundred men under various pretexts, all to avoid arousing Guo Pu's suspicion.
The ambush on the supply convoy had been meant to temporarily cut off shipments from Luoyang. Whether reported to Gucheng or Luoyang, any official who learned of the "Yellow Turban bandits" would first send troops to clear the route before resuming transport…
This would have bought Zheng Jian enough time for his plans. Moreover, attacking the convoy had another advantage—it allowed him to substitute certain items and smuggle them into the pass openly.
But Fei Qian had ruined it all.
Now, he had to find another way—and figure out how to transport the hidden goods into the pass…
The situation in Luoyang grew tenser by the day. If he didn't act soon, the Han Dynasty would be destroyed by a vulgar warlord!
Zheng Jian's hands clenched into fists, veins bulging, his jaw twitching.
This empire belonged to the scholars—since when did a brutish warrior get to dictate its fate?
The Han Dynasty had endured for four hundred years. How could it be allowed to collapse under tyranny?
Moving the capital?!
Sheer absurdity!
How many would be displaced on such a journey? How many would die for nothing?
All for the selfish desires of one warlord!
Absolutely unacceptable!
The letter had made it clear—if he could just delay for another month, the allied forces from the east would surely reach Luoyang!
By then, every last one of those Liangzhou barbarians would pay with their lives!
Zheng Jian took a deep breath, slowly relaxing his whitened fists. The tension in his jaw eased, but the determination in his eyes only grew sharper.
"I, Zheng Jian, have enjoyed the Han's patronage for years. Even if it costs me my life, I will stall this capital relocation for at least a month!"