Spring had not fully arrived across the vast lands of Yong and Liang, yet the spring wind had already reached Jian Yong's face.
Riding atop his horse, Jian Yong's waist and hips swayed rhythmically with the mount's steady pace. Even so, it did not affect the small notebook in his hand, where he continued to write and sketch without pause.
Yong and Liang were broad and boundless. After arriving here, there was no need to mention anything else. His horsemanship alone truly improved day by day.
Just as Jian Yong had expected, news of Chang'an's recovery quickly traveled back from the front lines and spread across the lands of Yong and Liang through Shanggui, which Jian Yong had been guarding.
And so, as if following the natural order of things, many of the old people of the Three Qin regions could no longer wait and eagerly set foot on the road home.
These were people who had been forced by war to abandon their homes and seek a living elsewhere. Now, upon hearing that yet another member of the Liu clan had pacified the Three Qin once more, there was no need for impassioned speeches or grand proclamations. Returning home became the most reasonable choice imaginable.
For people who faced the yellow earth day after day, they did not understand grand strategies, the balance of power, or the rivalry of warlords. What they remembered was the history of this land from hundreds of years past.
If Imperial Uncle Liu had truly restored the Three Qin, then perhaps this age of chaos was finally coming to an end.
If that were the case, then early spring was the perfect time to return home. If they hurried a little on the road, perhaps they could even turn over the fallow fields in time to plant a season of wheat.
And having been away for over a year, their houses surely needed repairs. The irrigation channels at the village entrance ought to be cleared out by a couple of strong young men as well. With a simple count, there was no shortage of work waiting for them.
Thus, the common folk passing through Shanggui all moved with hurried steps.
Under such circumstances, Jian Yong had no need to hesitate. He temporarily handed over the defense of Shanggui to Pang De, then eagerly mounted his horse and set off toward Chang'an.
Early spring scenery was at its finest, and Jian Yong took the opportunity to carefully record everything he saw upon leaving the Long Mountains.
After all, when he thought of how desolate Yong and Liang would appear in later generations, he felt that every blade of grass and every tree before him deserved to be described in detail, so that future descendants might know:
Yong and Liang were not barren lands. They too could be called rich in water and pasture.
Yet the scenery before him still stirred a faint sigh from Jian Yong.
A year ago, wind and snow swept into Yong and Liang,
Vowing to aid my lord in reclaiming Guanzhong.
Today, spring opens the road beyond the Long Mountains,
The Three Qin restored, just as in the old days.
As he reflected on this, Jian Yong suddenly realized something.
Where was Ma Mengqi?
Battle reports from the front lines had always been sent to Shanggui, so Jian Yong was well aware of how his lord had reclaimed the Three Qin.
Ma Mengqi shattered Zhang He at Jieting, joined Zilong in seizing Chencang, and then led his troops to force Zhang He to retreat, preventing him from reinforcing Guanzhong.
All of this was clearly recorded in the reports. Yet when it came to the capture of Chang'an, there was not a single word about Ma Mengqi.
Jian Yong felt curious, but he could only set the question aside for now. His journey to Chang'an was not urgent. He could take his time, strolling leisurely, treating it as a spring outing.
Where Ma Mengqi was would surely become clear once he reached Chang'an.
West of Shanggui lay Linwei. Passing through this area, Jian Yong noticed a newly raised field of burial mounds to the north of Linwei County.
Those buried there were likely the brave soldiers who had fallen in this campaign.
What was slightly novel, however, was that beside the road at the front of the burial grounds stood a small shrine. Above its entrance were written two characters: Jing'an.
There was even a couplet carved on the door. From the brushwork alone, one could tell it was Kongming's hand.
The left line praised the valor of the fallen, their legacy passed down through the ages.
The right line prayed for the peace of heroic spirits, their sacrifices honored without end.
Inside the shrine, the furnishings were exceedingly simple. A spotless altar, a few quietly burning sticks of incense, and a single spirit tablet with no inscription.
Because the Jing'an Shrine stood close to the road, many commoners chose to rest there. Jian Yong even saw some people voluntarily placing simple offerings.
A clean flatbread, half a handful of seeds, even a washed piece of grass root meant to stave off hunger. These were the few things the common people could offer.
Yet Jian Yong knew the meaning behind them was far greater.
Shrines all had strict regulations. The people were not permitted to establish them freely.
The imperial family had ancestral temples. Kings and nobles had clan temples. Great families had their household shrines. Common folk could only perform roadside sacrifices.
Now, though the spirit tablet in the Jing'an Shrine bore no name, it was likely only because it had been established in haste. Once Chang'an stabilized, people would surely be sent to complete it properly.
Checking the rosters, carving the names, offering sacrifices each spring and autumn, sharing in worship alongside the Han.
Jian Yong could easily imagine that such an act would provoke dissatisfaction among the high officials and noble families.
But who cared?
Jian Yong chuckled softly. He had seen the light screen. He knew how prosperous the incense of the Wuhou Shrine would be in later generations, and how clearly history would be recorded in those buildings called museums.
And from beginning to end, one thing never changed. That was the emphasis on the people.
Without the people, there is no state. Without soldiers, there is no army. This was something Lord Xuande and his strategists understood all too well.
What if the nobles were displeased by the shrine exceeding its proper limits? Lord Xuande did not reclaim the Three Qin with their help.
Thus Jian Yong's mood grew lighter still. He earnestly paid his respects, then carefully sketched the appearance of the Jing'an Shrine into his notebook.
When all was done and he turned to leave, Jian Yong overheard a conversation between two elderly men.
"Old Zhang, aren't you going to pay respects to your eldest son?"
"Would that be allowed? My boy died last year, and he was conscripted into Cao's army…"
"Oh, I already went to the burial grounds behind. There are Cao troops buried there too. Lord Xuande will not hold it against us."
"Then… then I will bow as well?"
"Hurry up."
A sobbing cry fell into the dust, and Jian Yong let out a long, quiet sigh.
Eastward through the river valley road lay Chencang. Just by looking at its low walls, Jian Yong understood why Generals Zhao and Ma had been able to capture it.
Once the dry season ended, this place could not support an army at all. Naturally, there was no need to build high defensive walls.
Still, the defending officer seemed to pity the hardship of the people. He had soldiers set up a row of tea stalls for travelers to rest. Jian Yong noted this down as well.
Without disturbing the local commander, Jian Yong rode on past Chencang and continued eastward. Soon, the endless fertile plains of the eight hundred li of Qinland in Guanzhong spread out before his eyes.
Having seen the steep mountains of Bashu and grown accustomed to the rolling hills of Yong and Liang, the scenery before him now felt exceptionally soothing.
A year ago, he had passed through here on his way to Yong and Liang as well, but it had been the depths of winter then, his mind heavy with worries. It could not compare to today.
Stopping and starting along the way, Jian Yong was quite surprised to encounter a familiar face upon reaching Mei County.
"Sir Dalan?"
"Sir Dalan!"
This somewhat odd form of address left Jian Yong momentarily confused. Then he realized they were calling him. Following the voice, he saw an old farmer with a face full of joy.
Jian Yong's memory was excellent from years of traveling north and south. He recognized him at once and laughed as he stepped forward.
"Old sir, have you abandoned the good fields of Hanzhong again?"
He remembered that a year ago, when Cao's army fought Han Sui and Ma Chao's coalition at Tong Pass, he had encountered this family fleeing to Hanzhong along the Bao and Xie roads.
Back then, the old man had openly said that facing roaming soldiers was worse than fleeing to Hanzhong to seek a bowl of rice under the Five Pecks of Rice Sect.
Now meeting again, the old man looked vigorous. The youngest son who had once been carried in his arms now stared at Jian Yong with curious eyes, lively and bright.
The sorrow on the faces of the two daughters had mostly faded. Beside the younger daughter stood a simple-looking man, speaking to her intimately.
With just one glance, Jian Yong felt deeply comforted and joked,
"Old sir, have you returned to spread the teachings of the Five Pecks of Rice Sect?"
The old farmer immediately put on an angry face.
"Sir Dalan, you really do not understand. This old man earns his living by farming. Why would I need that sect?"
After a few pleasantries, the two burst into laughter together.
Strangely enough, they had only exchanged a few words back then and could hardly be called acquaintances. Yet meeting again now, they felt like old friends. Jian Yong even stayed the night without ceremony at the old farmer's home.
That night, idle talk inevitably turned to their experiences.
The old farmer's story was simple. After entering Hanzhong, before he could even decide whether to join the sect, the Heavenly Master of the Five Pecks of Rice had been driven north in panic by Lord Liu's heavenly troops.
He had thought that fleeing to Hanzhong would not spare him from war, yet Hanzhong quickly stabilized. They were even allocated farmland and taught methods of planting, composting, and irrigation.
His two daughters had also learned weaving skills, filling the old farmer with delight.
"Was it not good to stay in Hanzhong?" Jian Yong asked.
"Imperial Uncle has restored the Three Qin. The disasters of war are gone. Why not return home?" the old farmer replied, as if it were only natural.
After being warmly seen off the next day, the old farmer pulled Jian Yong aside with a mysterious look and whispered to him.
Once back on the road, Jian Yong's attendants grew curious and asked what had been said, especially since Jian Yong's expression had clearly been one of mixed laughter and exasperation.
Speaking of it now, Jian Yong smiled broadly.
"The old man said that seeing I have some talent, I should go serve Lord Xuande and seek an official post. Better than doing business as a merchant."
"He also said that traveling back and forth through Yong and Liang has tanned my face darker than last year."
Laughter rippled through the entire group.
After passing Mei County, Chang'an was close.
Seeing Chang'an again, the greatest change Jian Yong felt was that the great city seemed far more alive.
For instance, as he led his horse through the city gate, he deliberately glanced around. There were no frozen corpses lying by the roadside.
Instead, because he was distracted, he was lightly bumped by a pair of playful youths.
"Huduo, wait for me. The notice says registration lasts until May. We will definitely make it."
"Registering early will put us at ease. Elder Li is going to buy a house, and we do not know how that will go. After registering, we can ask your father if he needs help."
Seeing they had bumped into someone, the boy and girl hurriedly apologized. Jian Yong waved his hand generously to show it was nothing.
Watching the pair walk and jog away, Jian Yong stroked his beard and felt a twinge of melancholy over his age. Then he recalled a saying from later generations.
Better to be a dog in peaceful times than a man in an age of chaos.
He could not help laughing at himself and shook his head as he moved on.
Neither Hanzhong nor Chengdu could compare to Chang'an.
Though he did not know where to find Lord Xuande for the moment, Jian Yong felt calm and at ease strolling through the streets with his horse.
Following the main road, the flow of people carried him toward the most crowded area.
The buildings there had been simply repaired, making them easy to recognize.
"The Imperial Academy?"
Jian Yong then looked toward the two directions where the crowds were thickest. Using his height, he easily spotted two signboards hanging at the front.
"Registration for Agricultural Studies?"
"Registration for Craft Studies?"