Chapter 048: Not Interested in You (Third Update—Requesting Three Rivers Votes)

Chapter 48: No Interest in You (Third Update—Seeking Sanjiang Votes)

“Yuanxiu, are you done yet?” This time, Zhuge Qiao’s face truly darkened, his undisguised displeasure in his tone startling Yang Wei, who instinctively glanced at him and obediently stepped aside. Zhuge Qiao took Wei Ba’s arm, forcing a smile. “Brother Wei, he’s always like this. Don’t take it to heart. Come, let’s sit up front.”

Wei Ba replied humbly, “When exchanging thoughts, it’s inevitable that our words sometimes go awry. Naturally, I won’t mind, and I imagine Lord Yang won’t take offense at mine either. Isn’t that so, Lord Yang?”

Still perplexed by Zhuge Qiao’s sudden anger, Yang Wei only snorted in response, not thinking much of it as Wei Ba played the part of the agreeable guest. Wei Ba paid him no further mind, maintaining a gentle, modest smile as he followed Zhuge Qiao to the large tent. When he saw the two seats clearly set apart from the rest, he quickly waved his hand. “Brother Zhuge, I am but a minor figure. How dare I sit in such a place of honor?”

Without giving him a choice, Zhuge Qiao pressed him into the seat, his hands on Wei Ba’s shoulders, gazing into his eyes with a faint smile. “Brother Wei, the Prime Minister asked me to host this gathering today precisely to seek out talent for the nation. If you have the ability, you’ll soon shed your humble status.”

Wei Ba glanced at the curious stares around him and could only shake his head with a wry smile. He knew this seat would draw attention, and it surely wasn’t his own merit that allowed him to sit here. From the look Yang Wei gave him, he could feel undisguised hostility. But since Zhuge Qiao insisted, there was no refusing.

Straightening, Zhuge Qiao clapped his hands. The murmuring crowd immediately fell silent, their bright eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to declare the start of the competition. Enjoying the attention, Zhuge Qiao’s face displayed a composed, restrained smile. He spoke in a clear voice: “Today’s gathering serves two purposes. First, to exchange knowledge and skills, deepening our mutual understanding. Second, with the Prime Minister leading the Northern Expedition, there are countless tasks to oversee. Though we are not yet entrusted with great affairs, we must not let our days slip away in idleness. The Prime Minister has decreed that several among you will be selected for a trial assignment: transporting provisions from Chengdu to Guanzhong, to test your abilities. Those who demonstrate outstanding talent will be chosen for the Prime Minister’s mansion, to serve at his side and share in the affairs of state.”

The young men present could barely contain their excitement. Whether it was transporting grain from Chengdu to Hanzhong or gaining a position in the Prime Minister’s service, both were high starting points for an official career. With the Prime Minister campaigning to restore the Han Dynasty, to be part of such a grand endeavor was exhilarating in itself. The grain transport mission, while important, was quite safe—far from the battlefield, it offered merit without mortal danger.

More importantly, it was almost certain Zhuge Qiao would oversee the task. The Prime Minister’s fostering of Zhuge Qiao was well known—strict yet caring. To work alongside him was a rare opportunity. As for serving in the Prime Minister’s mansion, that went without saying.

Thus, everyone stood, even Guan Xing and Zhang Shao, cupping their fists in assent. Wei Ba dared not be negligent and stood as well, following suit. Sweeping his gaze across the crowd, his eyes fell on Fu Xing in his wheelchair, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang—these two tasks had nothing to do with Fu Xing.

“Please, be seated,” Zhuge Qiao announced. “The process is simple: there are both civil and military tracks. You should each consider your strengths and interests—whether you prefer a military or civil position. Those wishing to compete for a military post may prepare now; the contest will begin immediately. It consists of two parts: archery and a test on military strategy. For the civil post, you may also begin preparing now. You will each write a poem and a fu, on any subject, and an essay on the theme of the Northern Expedition. If anyone is accomplished in both civil and military arts and wishes to attempt both, that is certainly allowed.”

Having finished, Zhuge Qiao stepped aside. “Today’s examiners are here in the tent. For the civil exam, Lord Yang, Chief Clerk, will preside. For the military exam, Captain Ma of Yuanshan will oversee.”

Attendants drew aside the tent flaps. Yang Yi entered first, hands clasped behind his back, scanning the crowd with an air of arrogance. His gaze paused momentarily on Wei Ba before moving on. Wei Ba paid him no heed, but was stunned by the next two who entered.

Ma Dai was to be an examiner? He was only a captain—what qualified him for such a role? With so many generals in the camp, how did a mere captain become an examiner? What was Zhuge Liang up to—was he trying to win over the Ma family?

Wei Ba stared at Ma Dai, but the young girl following behind Ma Dai thought he was staring at her. Annoyed, she turned her head away with a huff. Yet Wei Ba, unmoved, kept his eyes on Ma Dai, his mind racing to guess the purpose behind Zhuge Liang’s arrangement.

“Brother Wei? Brother Wei?” Zhuge Qiao, seeing him so distracted, thought he was staring at the girl and tugged at him. Wei Ba came to himself and smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, I was thoughtless.”

Zhuge Qiao said nothing more, merely inviting Yang Yi and Ma Dai to the seats of honor. Yang Yi took his seat with an air of dignity, while Ma Dai stood politely, waiting for Yang Yi to be seated before taking his own. The girl sat behind Ma Dai, head lowered, a trace of anger still on her face—she was convinced Wei Ba was staring at her. As time passed, she stole a glance at Wei Ba, only to find him engrossed in conversation with Zhuge Qiao, laughing and chatting without the slightest attention paid to her. Disappointment flickered in her heart, followed by a sense of embarrassment at her own pettiness.

Those preparing for the military exam began to ready themselves. Ten archery targets were set up in the open space before the tent for testing their skills. Military prowess was straightforward, especially the martial skills for the battlefield; mounted archery ranked first, followed by long weapons and close combat with short blades. Infantry skills came third, but in Shu, where horses were scarce, few were proficient in mounted combat—most relied on archery or blade work. These were not showy forms, but genuine killing techniques for war: simple and effective, not suited for display. Thus, today’s main contest was archery.

Zhuge Qiao turned to Wei Ba. “Brother Wei, are you interested in trying?”

Wei Ba laughed and waved his hands. “Brother Zhuge, if you wished to test martial skill, you shouldn’t have invited me. My elder brother, even my younger brother Wei Wu, is more qualified. To be honest, I’ve never even held a bow, let alone shot an arrow. Spare me, or I’ll just withdraw now.”

Zhuge Qiao laughed too, not pressing the point. “Then let’s watch their archery instead.”

“So, Lord Wei truly intends to forsake the martial for the civil? Will you compete for a civil post?” Yang Wei sidled up again with his sly, insincere smile. “To test myself against Lord Wei, and perhaps serve as colleagues in the future—it would be an honor indeed.”

Wei Ba felt speechless. He thought, I don’t even want to see you—why are you pestering me? Although frustrated, he kept a pleasant expression. “You flatter me, Lord Yang. I wouldn’t presume to compete with you. I’m only here to broaden my horizons.”

“Lord Wei is too modest,” Yang Wei replied with a sly grin. “Your talents leave us in the dust. I won’t trouble you further—I’d better go work on my compositions, or else I’ll be embarrassed when I lose later.”

Glancing at the self-satisfied Yang Wei, Wei Ba felt uneasy. Poems, fu, essays—he knew nothing of these. Even if he forced himself to write, he’d only make a laughingstock of himself. If he embarrassed his family, his father would never forgive him. Nervously, he looked at Zhuge Qiao, blaming him for dragging him into this gathering and leaving him with no way out.

With these worries in mind, he found even the archery contest dull. Many displayed impressive skill, earning rounds of applause. It was said that in the late Han, civil abilities were valued over martial, but Shu was different. Perhaps because the Three Kingdoms were an age of chaos, or because the restoration of the Han required martial strength, Shu Han esteemed the military—even scholars often held martial titles. Most of those who followed Liu Bei into Sichuan were warriors, and their sons were versed in arms; pure scholars were rare. It was evident from the number of young men choosing the military test.

But for Wei Ba, watching arrow after arrow soon became tedious. Apart from a few with extraordinary aim, most were average; with no scoring system, competition was mild. Distracted, Wei Ba quickly lost interest and began to daydream. Perhaps it was some instinct of the male animal, but his vacant gaze soon landed on the only woman present—the girl in white.

She quickly noticed his attention and grew furious, but since she had come forward in public, she had to endure being looked at. Though Wei Ba’s gaze was rude, she could only tolerate it for the moment. Yet his unblinking, unashamed stare made her feel as if she were sitting on thorns, or as if crawling insects covered her body—utterly uncomfortable.

Unable to bear it, she glared at Wei Ba. Startled from his reverie, Wei Ba shivered and realized his impropriety. He forced a couple of awkward laughs and turned his head—only to find Yang Wei’s pale face mere inches away.

“Ah! Lord Yang, what are you—”

Yang Wei looked at him with utter disdain, lowered his voice and rasped, “Lord Wei, it’s only natural for a man to appreciate beauty, but in broad daylight, shouldn’t you show some restraint?”

Wei Ba knew that the grudge between his father and Yang Yi ran too deep to ever be reconciled. So, he reasoned, there was no point in being polite—better to meet needle with needle, strike back hard, and force Yang Wei to retreat.

He lowered his head, paused in silence, then raised his eyes—now sharp and biting, far more so than Yang Wei’s. Matching Yang Wei’s tone, he replied with a smile, “I’ll look at whom I please—what business is it of yours? And why are you so close to my face? While I may appreciate beauty, I have no interest in men. Kindly move your esteemed backside elsewhere.”

—End of the third update; seeking Sanjiang votes.

Old Zhuang has realized he made a mistake. When starting this new book, he only thought about the thirty-day, 200,000-character requirement, planning two chapters a day, each three thousand characters—just enough. He forgot about the need for bonus chapters to ask for votes. Now he faces a dilemma: if he adds more chapters, he’ll fall off the rankings early; if he doesn’t, he’ll feel unworthy of everyone’s support. If he’d been smarter and made each chapter just over two thousand characters, he wouldn’t have this problem now. But what’s done is done; regret is useless. Although claiming first place is impossible with the great Ao Wuchang ahead, I’ll still strive for second—at least I’ll do my best. Regardless of the new book period, as long as you keep me from falling from second place, I’ll do three chapters a day, and let this stand as proof. If… well, enough said—you understand. Also, please recommend and bookmark. The new book’s debut period is half over; whether Old Zhuang succeeds from here on depends on your support. In any case, I promise: the updates will not be cut short.