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“There is also the possibility that some court lackey or greedy eunuch
might override this decision, and have one of their ‘friends’ appointed
instead, in exchange for a favour, or a bribe… that’s not uncommon,” Sun Jian
suggested. “I watch and listen, my lady, and the capital is a cutthroat place:
Huangfu Song was a great hero, a man that was revered - as I sometimes am - for
his successes in the Yellow Turban Rebellion, and he received even more rewards
than I did; he was elevated to one of the highest military posts in the land,
in fact. Yet one mistake - earning
the ire of the eunuchs - reduced him from hero to disgraced pariah in one
slanderous gesture. He may regain favour, he may not… I cannot say. But what I
can say is that the same uncertainty hovers over my head, only more so, because
I am not even a Huangfu Song… in the eyes of the court, I am-”
“I know… I know,” Lady Wu interrupted miserably.
“You don’t need to say it.”
Sun Jian exhaled noisily and turned his gaze away from Lady Wu.
“You should go and plan your responses to this with Cheng Pu,” Lady Wu
suggested. “I can’t help you, Husband, as much as I’d like to be able to.”
Sun Jian nodded tersely and departed from the house, leaving Lady Wu to
wonder what the future held for her family.
“You seem troubled, Mister Sun,” Cheng Pu said as he welcomed Sun Jian
into his home and had him take the host seat.
“Please, call me Wentai,” Sun Jian replied as he passed the
recently-received letter to Cheng Pu, who started to read immediately. After a
pause, Sun Jian smiled and added, “That’s the least you can do if you’re going
to keep insisting on me taking the host seat in your own house. How are your
family…?”
“Fine,” Cheng Pu replied as he studied the correspondence.
“…Good,” Sun Jian murmured.
Cheng Pu finished reading the letter, but he could only say “Oh.”
“We seem to agree,” Sun Jian chortled. “But you might perhaps elaborate
on any ideas you have, Demou; I am torn, especially after the disaster in
Liang.”
“If the messenger does come, accept it,” Cheng Pu suggested. “Even if
you lost the role afterward to some toady, you’ll be a hero thrice over, and
you can make your own fortune if the foolish northern court won’t reward you
amply.”
Sun Jian nodded silently.
“Doubts…?” Cheng Pu prompted.
“…Naturally,” Sun Jian replied. “How many more times will I answer to
this northern court, this den of corruption and ingratitude, and risk my life
and the lives of my friends and countrymen to preserve their existence so
thanklessly, as I have until now…?”
“I can’t answer that,” Cheng Pu sighed. “What I can say, though, is that I’d expect the messenger within days.”
A messenger did arrive several days later, and Sun Jian was officially
told of his new role as Magistrate of Changsha. He hurried from his own office
to the office where Cheng Pu worked to inform his friend of the confirmation.
“Well, congratulations, of course,” Cheng Pu said warmly. “You’ll be
going to Changsha alone, or will you take your family with you…?”
Sun Jian’s elated expression froze and his eyes darted about as he
pondered that previously unconsidered point.
“Stop grinning like that, it looks ridiculous when you’re obviously so
distressed,” Cheng Pu teased.
Sun Jian’s smile faded, and as he turned his gaze to Cheng Pu, he tried
to find the words to express how he felt, but settled instead on a discontented
groan.