Chapter 102: The Pitiful Zhuge Qiao

Returning victorious, Wei Ba politely and tactfully declined Madam Zhang’s reward with the words, “My elder brother’s woman—I dare not take her, nor can I.” This outcome pleased everyone: Wei Yan was proud, Madam Zhang satisfied; Huan’er felt relieved, and Peng Xiaoyu was delighted.

After the lively family banquet concluded, Wei Ba returned to his long-unoccupied grand tent. Everything was neatly arranged in its rightful place, the desk spotless, and even his foot bath bucket was scrupulously cleaned. Seeing this, he knew Peng Xiaoyu had not slackened during his absence, and couldn’t help but smile. “Xiaoyu, you’ve worked hard while I was away.”

Busy preparing hot water, Peng Xiaoyu smiled in reply, “It’s not just me; Miss Huan’er helped quite a bit too.”

Wei Ba chuckled, “Her? She mostly just stands on the sidelines, waving her hands and giving orders. What help could she possibly offer?”

Peng Xiaoyu smiled softly, wiping sweat from her brow as she knelt before him to remove his boots. Wei Ba had suffered much these past months; his feet not only emitted a strong odor but were covered in thick calluses. Peng Xiaoyu was momentarily taken aback, then gently placed his feet into the water.

The temperature was just right. Wei Ba sighed contentedly, “There’s no place like home.”

“Only after enduring hardship outside can one truly appreciate the comfort of home,” Peng Xiaoyu said, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her chin there, smiling warmly at Wei Ba. “Young Master used to wash his feet every day, but I’ve never seen you so happy.”

Wei Ba grinned, “You’re right. It’s always been comfortable before, but today feels especially so.”

“If Lady Huan’er helped wash your feet, you’d feel even better,” Peng Xiaoyu teased mischievously. “Don’t you regret it? She’s much prettier.”

Wei Ba frowned. “Huan’er is my elder brother’s woman. Could I ever take her? Besides, she’s been with Madam for years, growing quite imperious. If I brought her here, you’d be the one suffering. And anyway, if she came to me, she’d become Madam’s spy—I don’t want someone like that around.”

“Uh…” Peng Xiaoyu giggled, lowering her head to watch the herbs floating in the foot bath’s water without saying a word.

Wei Ba, unable to see her eyes or discern her thoughts, sensed her distraction. The water was growing cold, and she hadn’t added more. He lifted his feet, wiggled his toes, and pretended to pinch her nose.

“The water’s cold now.”

“Oh, I’ll add hot water,” Peng Xiaoyu said hurriedly, standing and fetching more.

Wei Ba shook his head in silent dismay. “After a few months off, your service skills really slipped.”

When Peng Xiaoyu returned with hot water, she carefully adjusted the temperature and soaked his feet a while longer before expertly massaging them. As he enjoyed the “ugly girl’s” care, Wei Ba asked, “Anything important happen in Mianyang while I was away?”

“Not much. Before the New Year, the Chancellor planned to dispatch troops and had arranged the personnel, but for some reason, the army never set out,” Peng Xiaoyu replied, massaging the Yongquan point on his foot. “I heard from Lady Huan’er that the General was even reprimanded by Madam for this.”

“Why?”

“The Chancellor assigned Left General Wu Yi to lead twenty thousand to guard Hanzhong, and the General was to command ten thousand troops with the main force. The General said the Chancellor intended to use this as an excuse to seize the Wei family’s interests in Hanzhong and complained a bit. Madam said his behavior was improper.”

Wei Ba frowned. “What do you think?”

Peng Xiaoyu looked up at him. “You mean, do I think the Chancellor had that intention, and whether Madam’s criticism was justified?”

Wei Ba nodded.

After a pause, Peng Xiaoyu resumed her work. “I believe the Chancellor definitely had that intention, but it may not be a bad thing. If the General obeys orders, the Chancellor will give him more opportunities to distinguish himself. Otherwise, the Chancellor will consider him uncontrollable and impose more restrictions. Madam’s criticism is also right. Since opposition is useless, complaining only causes trouble and can be exploited by ill-intentioned people.”

Wei Ba smiled wryly, thinking that his father was rather inept in such matters—things even women understood, but he did not. Perhaps it wasn’t ignorance but rather an inability to restrain his own tongue.

Trouble often starts with the mouth.

“Young Master, the General has his own considerations. To achieve merit, one must have strength. Strength isn’t just about troop numbers, but also ample resources. Without funds, how can you maintain an army? Without loyal private troops, how can you earn merit? Land and estates form the foundation of one’s power; letting go of them lightly is impossible.”

Wei Ba fell silent. As someone with some education and experience, he understood that powerful local magnates—especially armed ones—had strong centrifugal tendencies. It was natural for Chancellor Zhuge Liang to limit the Wei family’s power. Yet, as a member of the Wei clan, he could not watch years of painstaking cultivation be taken away. These conflicting thoughts coexisted within him—seemingly contradictory, yet ultimately unified by perspective.

One should value the collective good, but what if it harms my personal interests? What if someone uses the collective good as a pretext to seize my rights? There are no definitive answers; it depends on the individual’s viewpoint.

Wei Ba trusted that Zhuge Liang was not one to abuse public office for private gain—this was evident from Zhuge Qiao’s lifestyle—but he could not guarantee that everyone around Zhuge Liang was equally noble. In fact, finding honorable officials among bureaucrats was like panning for gold in sand. If others schemed for private gain, why should he sacrifice his own interests?

He knew such thoughts were impure, but if purity meant death, he preferred impurity.

Seeing Wei Ba lost in thought, Peng Xiaoyu fell silent as well. Suddenly, Wei Ba recalled Zhuge Qiao and voiced his worries. After months apart, he still could not break the habit of seeking Peng Xiaoyu’s counsel. Though he had made many decisions alone in Anyang or Fangling, and the results were not bad, whenever he saw Peng Xiaoyu, the habit naturally returned. He couldn’t tell if it was humility or subconscious insecurity.

“Zhuge Qiao is methodical—not outstanding, but not bad either,” Peng Xiaoyu said slowly, her head bowed. “If standards aren’t too high, he’s somewhat promising for his age. But compared to the Chancellor, he’s far behind. When the Chancellor was his age, he was already famous across Jing and Xiang.”

Wei Ba was momentarily stunned. Indeed, Zhuge Liang had been about the same age when he entered service under Liu Bei and had already been a renowned figure in Xiangyang for several years. Compared to him, Zhuge Qiao fell far short.

Having a brilliant father was not always a blessing.

Poor Zhuge Qiao.

...

A few days later, Zhuge Qiao returned to Mianyang, completed his assignments, and then disappeared without a word. The Chancellor neither praised nor reprimanded him, as if he had merely done an ordinary task—despite it being his first command in battle and such an important campaign.

In contrast, Wei Ba was quickly rewarded. Zhuge Liang highly praised his merits, acknowledging that although his clash with Pan Zhang caused unnecessary troubles, his achievements outweighed his faults. Wei Ba received generous rewards and was granted the right to attend various meetings at the Chancellor’s headquarters. From now on, he was an official staff officer, not merely a nominal title.

As the youngest officer in the Chancellor’s household, Wei Yan was proud. As the youngest staff officer, Wei Ba felt great pressure. He had earned merits but also caused diplomatic conflicts. Yet Zhuge Liang’s leniency and generous rewards showed his support for young talents. Still, seeing Zhuge Qiao—who had labored without reward—made Wei Ba feel uneasy about the Chancellor’s strictness.

A tree that stands out invites the wind’s wrath. Wei Ba understood this well, especially since his father Wei Yan, always eager to boast of his son’s name, unknowingly aroused resentment.

With this mindset, Wei Ba became even more low-key. At meetings, he sat quietly in unnoticed corners, speaking only when called upon by the Chancellor. If he had opinions, he sought private audiences with Zhuge Liang or consulted Ma Su to relay messages indirectly, never speaking openly. This attitude earned Zhuge Liang’s praise.

One evening after a meeting, Zhuge Liang kept Wei Ba behind and told Zhuge Qiao, “You must grow closer to Ziyu. A man benefits from worthy friends.”

Wei Ba modestly declined the compliment.

As they left the tent, Wei Ba was about to bid farewell, but Zhuge Qiao took his hand with a smile. “Ziyu, take a walk with me?”

Wei Ba was reluctant; seeing Zhuge Qiao these past days had made him uneasy. Yet he could not refuse and agreed.

The two walked quietly out of the camp, eventually arriving at the huge rock where Wei Ba practiced boxing daily. Zhuge Qiao sat down, facing the vast camp nestled in the valley, and sighed deeply.

Wei Ba stood behind him, unsure what to say. Though he had not harmed Zhuge Qiao directly, his presence was partly the cause of the latter’s frustration.

“Ziyu, tomorrow I return to Chengdu to become the Transport Commandant.”

Wei Ba was startled. The Transport Commandant was the head of the logistics team—the same role Zhuge Qiao had held before. Zhuge Liang’s prolonged stay in Hanzhong had depleted food supplies beyond expectation, necessitating renewed grain transport from Chengdu. This issue dominated recent meetings at the Chancellor’s office. Wei Ba had privately suggested establishing farmland in Hanzhong; Zhuge Liang was considering it, but urgent supplies still had to come from Chengdu.

For Zhuge Qiao, however, this was a bad sign. Previously, being assigned to transport was framed as training for future command. Now, despite his experience leading ten thousand troops and his commendable performance—though overshadowed by Wei Ba—he was still sent back to logistics instead of command. There was only one reason: Zhuge Liang was dissatisfied with him and intended to sideline him, at least temporarily.

“Bosong, the Chancellor... has his reasons. You’re still young...” Wei Ba carefully searched for words to comfort him. But he was not eloquent, and as the “culprit” behind Zhuge Qiao’s predicament, anything he said felt wrong. After a few sentences, Zhuge Qiao interrupted, “Ziyu, you don’t need to comfort me. Between my father and me, I know the situation well enough. Sit down, I just want to talk with you—nothing more.”

Wei Ba sheepishly fell silent and obediently sat on the rock.

“Ziyu, I want to ask you something.”