Chapter 75: Calculating a Life Without Paying the Price?

Zhuge Qiao’s gaze turned cold, then his lips curled up in a profound and unfathomable smile. He gently put down his chopsticks, resting them on the food tray, then took a handkerchief and wiped the corner of his mouth.

“Do you think the Prime Minister’s northern campaign will fail this time?”

Wei Ba sighed, slightly displeased. For months now, he had been striving to adapt to the ways of the bureaucracy, yet he could never accept this manner of conversation, always laden with insinuations. Just because he is the Prime Minister, does that mean I cannot believe he might fail? If I don’t believe he will fail, does that ensure he will succeed?

He very much wanted to throw his bowl of porridge at Zhuge Qiao’s slyly smiling face, but he only twitched his fingers, picked up his chopsticks, tapped them gently on the tray, grabbed a piece of pickled vegetable, and placed it in his mouth, chewing slowly as he spoke in a calm tone, “To count defeat before victory is common sense in warfare. What do you think, Bosong?”

Zhuge Qiao rolled his eyes, unable to hold his composure any longer. Shaking his head, he laughed and pointed at Wei Ba. “Hurry up and eat, hurry up. I can’t argue with you.”

Wei Ba did not laugh. He gazed solemnly at the bowl of porridge and plate of pickled vegetables before him, stirring the bowl with his chopsticks. “Bosong, are you gifted with foresight? Did you know I would come to see you at this time?”

“No, I don’t have such abilities,” Zhuge Qiao replied, puzzled.

“Then… do you usually eat like this?” Wei Ba asked, astonished.

Now Zhuge Qiao understood. He wanted to laugh, but somehow the laughter did not come; after a moment’s silence, he said, “Yes, I usually eat like this. The Prime Minister says: ‘Cultivate oneself with tranquility; nurture virtue through frugality.’ When he lived at Longzhong, he ate like this. Now, as Prime Minister, he must be even more frugal, avoiding extravagance.”

“Looks like I’ll never become someone like the Prime Minister,” Wei Ba declared firmly, setting down his chopsticks. “I’ve worked so hard to nurse myself back to health. If I eat like this for half a month, I’ll surely fall ill from hunger again.” He smiled apologetically at Zhuge Qiao. “I’m sorry, I cannot share hardship with you. I must go back and find some meat to eat.”

Zhuge Qiao was speechless. He covered his face with his hand, scratching his brow with his little finger, barely able to contain his laughter. “Ziyu, you’re the first person who can speak of tasty food with such righteous conviction.”

“I’m simply not hypocritical, just telling the truth,” Wei Ba said, standing up and brushing his clothes. “This is actually like warfare—no matter how noble the words, victory ultimately depends on the strength of arms. Otherwise, how could Qin unify the world?”

With that, Wei Ba cupped his hands in salute, turned, and prepared to leave. As he was about to step through the cabin door, Zhuge Qiao called out, “Ziyu, wait.”

“What, want to invite me to a feast?”

“No feast, but certainly something you’ll find interesting.” Zhuge Qiao gestured for his guards to remove the unfinished porridge. Wei Ba paused, scrutinizing Zhuge Qiao for a moment; seeing that he was serious, he turned back. Of course, he had not come merely to deliver armor, but had words he wished to speak to Zhuge Qiao. Yet if Zhuge Qiao kept playing games, he would say nothing more.

Zhuge Qiao tidied the table, took out a roll of maps, and spread it across the tray, motioning Wei Ba to sit opposite him. He fixed his eyes on Wei Ba and said in a serious tone, “Ziyu, tell me honestly—how much do you know about this operation?”

Wei Ba blinked. “I have two answers.”

“Speak.”

“First answer: Colonel, I know nothing at all.”

“And the second?”

“Bosong, I know almost everything.”

Zhuge Qiao’s brows furrowed. “Did General of the North tell you everything? Or General of the East?”

“It has nothing to do with the General of the North, nor the General of the East. To be frank, before the Prime Minister convened the council of generals, I discussed this matter with Zhongde atop Yangping Mountain. Of course, I did not expect you to be leading the troops, nor that I myself would be involved.”

Zhuge Qiao was half-convinced, scrutinizing Wei Ba’s gaze for any hint of deception, but finding none. After a long pause, he asked in surprise, “You mean, before the Prime Minister’s military council, you and Zhongde predicted the Prime Minister’s plan?”

Wei Ba nodded, then added, “I can also tell you, when my father first proposed the outline of the Ziwu Valley plan, I already anticipated the Prime Minister wouldn’t approve.”

Zhuge Qiao’s expression became very strange. He leaned back, forced a laugh. “So it is you, Ziyu, who possesses foresight.”

“I am not gifted with foresight. I simply admire the Prime Minister greatly,” Wei Ba replied, withdrawing his gaze and rubbing his fingers slowly. “Actually, as long as one understands the Prime Minister’s temperament, one can guess his intentions. I’ve said before: warfare is sometimes like solving equations—there are patterns to follow. This is not like writing essays, where one can let imagination run wild.”

Zhuge Qiao pressed one hand to the map, the other supporting his chin, fingers scratching at his nose as his eyes flickered with thought. After pondering a while, he asked, “Then tell me—what is our actual mission this time?”

“Feign an attack on the three eastern counties, drawing Meng Da and Sima Yi at Wan City’s attention. If possible, turn Meng Da against them. But fundamentally, it’s to create an opportunity for the Prime Minister to launch his campaign in Longyou. Before that, the southeast should stage a diversionary attack to draw Luoyang’s attention, and keep Cao Wei’s main forces east of Hangu Pass, delaying their entry into Guanzhong.”

Wei Ba finished in one breath, staring into Zhuge Qiao’s eyes. “Did I guess correctly?”

Zhuge Qiao narrowed his eyes, the corners twitching uncontrollably, his breath involuntarily heavier. At this moment, if not for years of self-discipline, he would almost have leapt up. He was certain this wasn’t what Wei Yan or Zhao Yun told Wei Ba, but Wei Ba’s own deduction; no one else could have described it so precisely.

Unless Wei Yan wanted Wei Ba to show off; as for Zhao Yun, that was simply impossible. Zhao Yun would never do such a thing.

Zhuge Qiao’s heart was in turmoil; he felt immense pressure. He knew the true mission, and Wei Ba could not know too much, yet Wei Ba’s guess was nearly spot-on—could this man truly be a genius?

Everyone hopes to be a genius, but no one wishes for a genius at their side. To travel with a genius is a tragedy.

Zhuge Qiao hesitated for a moment, then said, “What you’ve said is almost exactly what the Prime Minister himself said.”

Wei Ba smiled, though the smile was tinged with bitterness. So it turns out, Zhuge Liang truly was upright to the extreme, but not at all mysterious. He knew these things because he knew the outcome, but Zhao Guang, not knowing the result, still guessed the plan—what does that say?

Suddenly, Wei Ba thought of something. In the tales, Zhuge Liang is depicted as a master strategist, always able to foresee developments, prepare secret strategies, and with the right people executing them, achieve grand victories. But in reality, Zhuge Liang was often outmaneuvered. In the battle of Chencang, he was first anticipated by Cao Zhen, then by Zhang He, and later, repeatedly outplayed by Sima Yi—it was as if Sima Yi had foresight.

He used to think this was absurd, perhaps a result of Jin historians glorifying Sima Yi or Chen Shou’s personal grudges. But now, he believed it likely true—not because Sima Yi was a master strategist, but because Zhuge Liang was too upright, always striving to minimize risk, choosing the safest plan. For Shu, due to its weakness, his options were very limited. If the opponent was careful enough, it was not hard to guess his choices.

Cao Zhen, Zhang He, and especially Sima Yi—each was talented. Perhaps overall, they were not Zhuge Liang’s equal, but guessing his choices was not difficult.

Deception in war is never excessive; Zhuge Liang’s cunning exists only in the tales. The real Zhuge Liang was a true military leader—whether in marching, formation, or training, he was a peerless talent of his era. But he lacked just a bit of cunning, a bit of daring.

If he were not in the weak Shu Han, but in the mighty Cao Wei, even if he could not be the invincible general, he would at least be the undefeated one. His strength combined with caution would make him legendary. But fate placed him in Shu Han, whose weakness meant he dared not use bold strategies. No matter how talented, he could not make up for the gap in strength, and could only die before success, leaving heroes in tears.

In the end, it all comes down to one phrase: character determines destiny.

Zhuge Qiao saw Wei Ba’s expression shifting, unsure what he was thinking, and after a long wait, finally could not help but ask, “Ziyu, do you think this plan… has problems?”

Wei Ba drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and forced a smile. “No major problems, but a few minor ones.”

“Tell me.”

“First issue: the southeast and Hanzhong are separated by thousands of miles, making communication difficult. After the southeast advances, how long can they hold out? Can they create a sufficient window for the Prime Minister? It’s questionable. Since they are only a diversionary force, they will not go all out—likely just going through the motions. In that case, does Cao Wei need to send Luoyang’s elite? If the Grand Marshal of Yangzhou, Cao Xiu, can handle it, then the southeast’s feint becomes a wasted move, and the Prime Minister cannot receive timely updates.”

Zhuge Qiao pinched his chin, pondering silently.

“Second issue: can the fighting in the three eastern counties truly draw Sima Yi at Wan City’s attention? That’s the only chance to create an opportunity for the Prime Minister. But, Bosong, you only have five thousand men—how much impact can you make?”

Zhuge Qiao rolled his eyes, curled his lips and smiled. “You don’t think I am a match for Meng Da?”

“No, I worry that even together with Meng Da, we might not match Sima Yi.”

“Sima Yi, that scholar?” Zhuge Qiao scoffed dismissively. “He only earned his rank as Grand General through connections. You actually think he’s a famed commander?”

Hearing this, Wei Ba was instantly covered in figurative black lines. Last time, he had failed as an advocate before the Prime Minister, and now, in front of Colonel Zhuge, he was once again thwarted.

I really am not suited for persuasion. Trying to stop a chariot as a mantis is truly hard. It’s said that transmigrators inspire awe and heroes bow down, so why am I so frustrated? ———