The first version of him I knew was the useless heir of the Duke of Wu’an’s household.
He spent his days fighting crickets and chasing dogs, learned nothing, and was the laughingstock of the entire capital.
The second version of him I knew was Han, the staff officer in Liangzhou.
With three hundred men, he defeated ten thousand cavalry. He farmed and built up his troops, turning a crumbling frontier into an impregnable fortress.
The day he fled the capital, I drew him a map.
The day he secured his foothold in Liangzhou, I received his first letter.
He said, “Staying alive matters more than anything.”
He said, “I’ll hold Liangzhou.”
He said, “Wait for me to come back.”
Later, the powerful minister at court died, the tribes on the steppe retreated, and the emperor in the capital was replaced.
Some called him a traitor. Others said he was destined by Heaven to rule.
I remember only what he said: “Staying alive matters more than anything.”
