Chapter 027: The Prime Minister Is Quite Romantic

That light chuckle from Zhuge Liang was like a clap of thunder in Wei Ba’s heart—not because of awe, but disappointment.

Wei Ba had dared to break with Yang Yi and hurried here to seek audience with Zhuge Liang precisely because he believed Zhuge Liang was a leader of this era who valued new technology. As the genius who would invent the wooden ox and flowing horse, design the repeating crossbow, and improve armor—so highly regarded that his armor would later be presented as priceless gifts—he was someone with vision enough to recognize the advantages of a new bookkeeping method, and the magnanimity to set aside personal bias and support Wei Ba over Yang Yi in their contest.

Yet all his hopes were dashed by that single, light laugh from Zhuge Liang.

Wei Ba fell silent. He lifted his head and studied Zhuge Liang’s face, hoping to catch a glimmer of surprise or delight in his eyes. But there was nothing—only a flash of displeasure that flickered and vanished in the depths of Zhuge Liang’s gaze. Though it lasted but an instant, it was indelibly etched into Wei Ba’s heart.

He was deeply disappointed. The real Zhuge Liang was not only less than divine, but far from the wise leader he had imagined. At least for now, he was not the sage Wei Ba had hoped for. No wonder his father, Wei Yan, always spoke of Zhuge Liang with a mixture of respect and faint skepticism.

Wei Ba sighed, myriad thoughts racing through his mind. At this moment, he faced two choices: one was to carefully explain the merits of the new bookkeeping method in hopes that Zhuge Liang would grasp its significance; the other was to abandon the explanation, swallow his pride, and avoid a confrontation that might further escalate tensions.

Weighing the pros and cons, Wei Ba kept his eyes fixed on Zhuge Liang—a rather rude gesture. Zhuge Liang felt displeased but concealed it well, his face maintaining a gentle smile. Zhuge Qiao, however, grew impatient and cleared his throat, “Brother Wei, is something wrong?”

Startled, Wei Ba came to his senses, lowered his gaze, and fiddled with the account book in his hands. In that instant, he made up his mind. There was no retreat for him—not with his father’s temperament, who would never back down before Yang Yi, nor with the hopes his father had pinned on this new bookkeeping method. To abandon it now would be to lose not only his father’s face but also the momentum he had so painstakingly built. His father would cease to value him, and Lady Zhang would repay the humiliation he had inflicted on Steward Zhang and Huan’er a hundredfold. He would be ruined, with no chance of redemption.

A useless illegitimate son had no right to be arrogant.

As for whether this would deepen the Prime Minister’s suspicion of the Wei family, that was a matter for the entire clan, and a distant concern. If he did not thrive, what did the prosperity of the Wei family matter to him? Besides, the Wei family was already viewed with suspicion; his “selfless” retreat would solve nothing, and only bring disaster upon himself.

“Prime Minister, forgive me for my momentary lapse just now,” Wei Ba said with an embarrassed smile, bowing slightly. “This new bookkeeping method was devised through discussions between my father, myself, and the gentlemen of Hanzhong. Several county clerks who have tried it find it superior—clearer and more convenient than the current method. Much like the iron spades now being widely adopted in Hanzhong: though more costly, their efficiency is unmatched. Everyone agrees it’s worth the time to learn.”

“Is that so?” Zhuge Liang, seeing the determination in Wei Ba’s eyes, replied indifferently, then took the account book and flipped through it. Wei Ba watched him intently, his expression calm but his heart anxious—he held his breath, lowering his head slightly, stealing glances at Zhuge Liang’s face.

Zhuge Liang remained composed, turning the pages with his left hand while his right occasionally moved as if calculating something. He read quickly, skimming the entire account book in a short time, then slid it over to Zhuge Qiao and tapped it with his finger. “Boxiong, have a look.”

Zhuge Qiao took the account book, glanced through a few pages, and raised his brows. “Father, as Brother Wei says, this method is indeed better than the current one and worth promoting.” He paused, then added, “Of course, Staff Officer Yang’s concerns are valid as well. Changing the bookkeeping method without consulting the Prime Minister’s office could be seen as seeking novelty for its own sake and would complicate the standardization of accounts.”

Wei Ba felt a growing tension. He knew well enough that altering the bookkeeping method without the Prime Minister’s approval was improper. Bookkeeping was central to the nation’s finances; for the Prime Minister’s office, which oversaw all fiscal matters, a standard, unified format minimized trouble and maximized efficiency. If everyone adopted their own methods, the office would be paralyzed. That was the basis of Yang Yi’s confidence in rejecting him outright.

In other words, even if Zhuge Liang adopted his method, Wei Ba’s contest with Yang Yi was still lost. Zhuge Liang’s approach was procedurally sound, above reproach—Wei Ba might be dissatisfied, but he had no grounds for complaint.

Zhuge Liang closed the account book slowly. “Wei Ba, this bookkeeping method and the iron spade—are they both your ideas?”

Wei Ba hesitated, then nodded.

“I’ve already reviewed the iron spade, and its performance is impressive. I’ve ordered them to be made in quantity. The higher our grain yields in Hanzhong, the less trouble we’ll have supplying the Northern Campaign. This is a good thing.” Zhuge Liang considered for a moment, then continued, “You were somewhat impulsive, but your intentions are understandable. Yang Yi’s rejection was justified as well. There’s no clear right or wrong in this matter. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Wei Ba raised his brows, nodded, then shook his head. Zhuge Liang was displeased by this ambivalence. For a Prime Minister with endless affairs, to spare time for Wei Ba and acknowledge him in person was already remarkable. Yet Wei Ba was still unwilling to concede—was he only satisfied if Zhuge Liang declared him right and Yang Yi wrong? At this, Zhuge Liang’s smile faded, his expression growing stern.

“Prime Minister, I’m not objecting to Staff Officer Yang’s actions per se,” Wei Ba said, suppressing his nerves, and enunciating each word. “I object to his inflexible thinking. The realm is now divided in three; our Han must face mighty Cao Wei with but a single province. To triumph against the odds, we must be unpredictable. If we cling to the old ways, how can we hope to succeed?”

Zhuge Liang’s gaze sharpened.

Zhuge Qiao, seeing his father lost in thought, immediately picked up the thread: “Brother Wei, that’s not entirely correct. While it’s true that Wei is strong and we are weak, in the specific context of this Northern Campaign our forces actually outnumber those of Cao Wei in Guanzhong. Circumstances differ. As the Book of Changes teaches, all is in flux and must be judged by the times. Just as when the High Emperor marched on Chencang—once Guanzhong was seized, the balance of power shifted…” Zhuge Qiao spoke at length, referencing many anecdotes and classics that Wei Ba only half understood. On the surface, he was saying that Shu Han’s forces now surpassed those of Cao Wei, and thus victory did not require clever tricks. Accordingly, Wei Ba’s critique of Yang Yi was invalid.

Wei Ba listened quietly. Zhuge Liang did as well, glancing from Zhuge Qiao’s eloquence to Wei Ba’s silence, secretly pleased. Zhuge Qiao was now twenty-four; four years ago, when Zhuge Liang first assumed full authority, he had deliberately involved his son in state affairs. After years of training, Zhuge Qiao’s talents and knowledge had greatly increased, making him outstanding among his peers. Now, in his first exchange with Wei Ba, he had the upper hand—though trivial, it was still a comfort.

When Zhuge Qiao finished, Wei Ba smiled—a relaxed, confident, and faintly scornful smile.

“Brother Zhuge, your argument sounds beautiful.”

Zhuge Qiao’s face instantly turned awkward. “Sounds beautiful” was little better than accusing him of empty talk. He glanced at Zhuge Liang, who nodded slightly. Zhuge Qiao then cupped his fist and, smiling, said, “Pray instruct me, Brother Wei.”

Though Wei Ba was no expert in intrigue or social maneuvering, he was no fool. The essence of Zhuge Qiao’s remarks was, in fact, Zhuge Liang’s own thinking—and that of the Prime Minister’s office. They believed that in this Northern Campaign, facing an unprepared Cao Wei, Shu Han held a clear advantage and could sweep aside their foes. Yet aside from a slight advantage in numbers, Shu Han had no certainty of victory.

This mindset was perilous. Specifically, it was the root of the strategic differences between Zhuge Liang and Wei Yan.

“I’m no expert in military affairs, but I’ve heard that the ten-odd legions the Prime Minister brought to Hanzhong, apart from the newly recruited southern tribesmen, are mostly raw recruits—men who have never killed, never been wounded.” Wei Ba smiled faintly. “Forgive my bluntness, but I do not believe our army is stronger than Wei’s, nor that victory is assured or that we can afford to rest on our laurels.”

Zhuge Qiao was left speechless and looked to Zhuge Liang for help. Stroking his beard, Zhuge Liang reflected for a moment and said calmly, “The strength of soldiers lies not in their war experience, but in the hearts of men. Wei Ba, you are still young. You do not understand that although Cao Wei has usurped the Han, they have lost the people’s support. As Mencius said: ‘He who wins the people’s hearts wins the world.’ The military code declares: ‘Ten thousand men ready to die can sweep the world.’ In ancient times, the Yellow Emperor marshaled but a few tens of thousands and subdued the realm—how much more our own army, tens of thousands strong, standing on the side of righteousness against the guilty? We cannot claim certain victory, but nor will the struggle be as hard as you fear. Though Cao Wei is strong, they are but men doomed to fall—what is there to fear?”

Wei Ba had anticipated that much of Zhuge Qiao’s argument was merely Zhuge Liang’s opinion in disguise. Yet hearing Zhuge Liang speak it himself left him stunned.

Was this the nearly supernatural Zhuge Liang?

Was this the Prime Minister who would one day force Sima Yi to hole up in his camp?

He who wins the people’s hearts wins the world?

Ten thousand men ready to die can sweep the world?

What a romantic Prime Minister you are. You’re even more fanciful than Ma Su—no wonder you held Ma Su in such esteem and gave him important responsibilities.

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