Chapter 9: Cao Cao’s Great Endeavor

Time slipped away like a fleeting steed, passing without a trace. In the blink of an eye, Chen Cong had already spent a month clawing his way through the late Han dynasty. Were it not for his foreknowledge of the looming chaos, he would have been softened by the comforts of the Cao household.

In his idle hours, he read alongside Cao Cao, learning characters. The progress, however, was lamentable. At first, Chen Cong assumed his university background would make mastering the ancient script child's play. In reality, the small-seal and clerical scripts of this era bore almost no resemblance to the simplified Chinese of later generations. Each vivid character bristled with incomprehensible strokes. After more than a month, Chen Cong could only write his own name, say hello, thank you, and ask if someone had eaten.

No wonder the great families of the past so easily monopolized knowledge—without sufficient background, the common man could not even learn to read. If Chen Cong’s aptitude for literacy was hopeless, his talent for martial arts proved most encouraging. After ten days of archery, he could string a bow and shoot an arrow clean through a willow leaf at a hundred paces. In twenty days, he could shoot wild geese in mid-flight. By the end of the month, he could notch nine arrows, shoot nine targets, and not miss a single one.

He mastered horsemanship in just seven days, executing difficult maneuvers with ease. During this time, Cao Cao took advantage of his position to bring in seasoned veterans to teach Chen Cong practical battlefield techniques. Usually, after a brief demonstration, Chen Cong could flawlessly recreate whatever he was shown.

Eventually, Cao Cao simply converted the woodshed into a private training ground for him. In a single month, Chen Cong had become proficient with long weapons like spears, halberds, and great blades, as well as short weapons like swords, sabers, and daggers.

During his leisure time, he and Cao Ang would occasionally sneak out to enjoy the pleasures of the brothels and the beauty of the city’s courtesans. Most of the time, however, he was hounded relentlessly by Cao Rong. That woman was like a split personality—tender as spring breeze one moment, utterly mad the next. Worse, Chen Cong was constantly trailed by the little spy Zhihua, who reported his every move. He had nowhere to hide; even listening to a tune at the brothel could get him dragged out by the fierce Cao Rong.

Soon, rumors of the “Cao household’s wicked servants bullying their master” spread throughout Luoyang. Cao Cao, exasperated, simply shut himself in and spent his days teaching Chen Cong the arts of governance, military command, and civil administration.

One morning, as the eastern sky began to pale, the lessons were drawing to a close.

“To bribe the close attendants of the enemy in secret, forging deep ties—is this not to foster traitors within, inviting disaster upon the state? What is your solution?”

“Secretly bribing the enemy’s high officials, winning their friendship—these men dwell within but their hearts belong elsewhere, and calamity is sure to follow.”

Cao Cao set down his scroll, gazing with undisguised annoyance at his eldest son, who never tired of answering questions, then at his beloved son-in-law sprawled half-asleep on the desk, his temples throbbing. One was a rotten fish, the other a spoiled shrimp—he had never taught such hopeless students!

“Father, I don’t understand,” Cao Ang mumbled.

Cao Cao’s eyes rolled heavenward. How could a perpetual class-crasher have so many questions?

“Speak, then.”

“The Master said: What a gentleman values is honesty and trust. Forming secret pacts with the enemy’s ministers runs counter to a gentleman’s conduct. As for strategy, it should always be aboveboard.”

Bang! The scroll struck the table, jolting Chen Cong awake. The pressure of a teacher upon his students was absolute.

“Chen Cong!”

“Here!” Chen Cong sprang to his feet.

“Tell this blockhead: Is it right or wrong to be aboveboard in strategy?”

Chen Cong shrank into himself, but sixteen years of classroom experience guided him through his half-awake state. He knew exactly what the teacher meant.

“I think Zixiu is right.”

“Oh?” Cao Cao’s face darkened.

“But Zixiu is asking the wrong person.”

“Oh? Then who should he ask?”

“He should ask Confucius why, living six hundred years after Lü Wang, he never properly taught the way of the gentleman. Why is the Six Secret Teachings so contrary to the words of the sages?”

Cao Ang: ….

Chen Cong, not about to spare his classmate, pressed on: “Zixiu should also ask Sun Wu—if he’s not a gentleman, how can he be the saint of war? Why does he bark about ‘the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting; next best is to break their alliances, then their armies, and finally their cities’? Does he know what it means to be open and upright, to command troops as a true gentleman?”

Cao Cao let out half a breath, relieved at last that one piece of mud could finally stick to the wall after days of holding back his temper. But when he looked at his other son, the remaining breath refused to leave him. He now wished he could strangle Cao Ang’s previous tutor—what had the man been teaching him? All quotes from the Master and talk of gentlemen, even in the midst of military strategy.

“Did you understand?”

Cao Ang shrank, muttering, “…I understand.”

“Louder! Haven’t you eaten?”

“I understand!!”

Slap! A tall boot arced gracefully through the air and struck Cao Ang square on the cheek.

“Unfilial child! You’ve grown bold enough to shout at your father?”

Cao Ang, holding his face in grievance, had no time to protest before a new storm of paternal love crashed down upon him. Chen Cong silently chanted blessings, hoping not to get caught in the crossfire.

This feeling…damn, it was the terror of being dominated by a high school homeroom teacher.

Only when Cao Ang limped out of the study did Cao Cao finally exhale fully and drain his teacup in a single gulp.

“All right, sit down.”

“Okay.”

“I intend to take up my blade and assassinate the traitor of the realm.”

The doors and windows were all open, affording a clear view in every direction—no chance of eavesdropping. Thus, Cao Cao spoke openly, without lowering his voice.

Now was the right moment. On one hand, Cao Cao had come to understand his son-in-law’s character—unorthodox, but reliable. He could be trusted as a confidant. On the other, the rumors had fermented long enough, and it was time to move his family back home.

Chen Cong rose again.

So, after all this butterfly-wing flapping, Cao Cao would still attempt to kill Dong Zhuo? Of course. It was best to lay everything on the table. What Chen Cong feared was Cao Cao acting rashly and impulsively.

A glance at history showed that even if Cao Cao failed in his attempt, he would have made prior arrangements. Lady Ding, who smiled so charmingly, would remain unharmed, and the bumbling Cao Ang’s fate was not sealed in this affair.

But what troubled Chen Cong most was Cao Rong! His beautiful yet resentful spouse’s fate was entirely unknown—she could easily become a casualty of some unexpected event.

When it came to his wife, he could not afford carelessness.

“Father-in-law, why not choose a loyal and beautiful maid to sow discord between Fat Dong and Lü Bu? Contact the young emperor, obtain a secret edict to stand on righteous ground. When the time is right, you can use Lü Bu’s hand to rid the world of Dong Zhuo.”

Indeed, Chen Cong was copying Wang Yun’s homework. The plan was right there for the taking, so why not use it? With Cao Cao’s connections to Dong Zhuo, the scheme would only be more effective.

The absence of Diao Chan was no obstacle. Before becoming Grand Commandant, Old Master Cao had been Grand Herald, in charge of protocol and foreign relations, with no shortage of beauties at his disposal. Chen Cong had it all worked out—he would teach the maid some modern skills in the art of subtle conversation, and she would bewitch Dong Zhuo and his son until their heads spun.

Once, Chen Cong might have scorned such methods for sacrificing an innocent woman. Now, he felt not the slightest pang of conscience.

Sacrifice? Nonsense. For a maid, remaining in the household meant being a plaything for the powerful. If this gave her a chance to rise as a noble consort, was that truly a loss? No, it was a tremendous opportunity!

People only criticized Wang Yun because he sacrificed Diao Chan. If he had sacrificed some nobody like Niu Cuihua or Huang Daya, no one would have cared enough to complain.