Chapter Four: Beyond Chang Ban Slope

Eight seasons after the Lu Bu affair, a new warrior comes knocking on the Western Gates.

Two Years Later...

Darkness settled, and as was their custom, the crickets and cicadas began their usual twilight song. The rapidly approaching dusk found a sight peculiar to the normally undisturbed countryside, for riding atop a tall white horse and bearing both a deadly spear and a harmless baby, was a tall and dashingly handsome general in an armor of silver and blue.

This warrior was none other than Zhao Yun—now dirty, exhausted, and virtually soaked in enemy blood—and the child strapped to his lap was little Liu Chan, heir apparent to the legacy of Shu, whom he'd braved thousands of Wei cavalry and infantry to rescue at Chang Ban Slope.

Past Chang Ban, across innumerable woods and creeks, in the rapidly fading light, rode the Little Dragon of Changshan. Weary and lost, Zhao Yun pushed on through the green-and-gold countryside, trying unsuccessfully to find Liu Bei, Zhang Fei...anybody from Shu, in fact.

The baby bound to his lap suddenly woke up and, like most infants were prone to do, began to cry, its shrill and piercing wails shattering the peaceful quiet of the country twilight. Zhao Yun was forced to slow down his horse, as he untied the cord securing Liu Chan to his armor and tried his best to soothe the baby.

He couldn't help but sigh wearily while struggling through this task, while in his unfamiliar arms, little Liu Chan refused to be comforted and continued to scream. Zhao Yun, looking down with concern at the baby's angry blue face, worried that his lord's sole heir might asphyxiate if it kept wailing inconsolably like this...and then how could he ever face Liu Bei again?

The young Tiger General urged his white horse into a trot, continuing to awkwardly rock Liu Chan in his arms as he held on to his charger with only his knees. The baby kept on howling into his chest, and as Zhao Yun looked bleakly around, he realized that he had no choice but to find some shelter—fast. If it were up to him alone, he'd push on through the night in search of his comrades; however, it was obvious that Liu Chan needed some rest and nourishment.

After what seemed like an eternity spent riding and searching in vain, Zhao Yun finally spotted a welcome sight: a long string of colorful lights at the foot of the low hill he was currently situated on. With renewed hope, he spurred his charger to go faster, swiftly sprinting down the grassy slope until both horse and master had arrived at the front gates of what appeared to be a secluded country house.

A row of multicolored paper lanterns was strung up along the white walls, and from the other side of these, the tops of tall plum and apple trees seemed to peek with languid curiosity at their visitors. Above the arching mahogany gates was the name of the estate, written in bold black characters: Refuge Park. It was a rather appreciated sight.

Zhao Yun dismounted, with Liu Chan in one arm and his steed's reins in the other. Using his relatively freer hand, he picked up the bronze knocker and rapped it against the heavy wooden gates.

"It's the middle of the night; come back tomorrow," a voice spoke up sharply from the other side, somehow managing to keep its femininity amidst its annoyance.

"I'm very sorry for disturbing you this late, Miss," Zhao Yun called back an apology, feeling rather silly to be asking for forgiveness from a pair of smooth red gates, "but I'm afraid I've lost my way, and it's been rather difficult trying to find my friends in the darkness."

"My master hasn't received any guests in more than two years now; you'll just have to find some other family to trouble," the voice shot back in a tone that could only be described as bratty.

"Please, under normal conditions, I wouldn't have troubled your household at all, Miss," Zhao Yun said, beginning to feel desperate as he rocked Liu Chan around. "But I've got a baby with me, and—"

Here, the sound of light footsteps scampered fleetly down the stone path, and one of the tall mahogany gates was cracked open before Zhao Yun could finish. The face that peered suspiciously at him from inside was an admirably pretty one—heart-shaped and dainty, with large bright eyes and a dimple at each side of its rosy mouth.

"You have a baby with you?" the little handmaid asked, looking from Zhao Yun to Liu Chan before settling back on Zhao Yun again. "Well...perhaps we can pack some food for you...But you still can't stay for the night; my master—"

Before she could repeat that her master didn't receive any guests, a quiet but firm voice behind her spoke up admonishingly, "Firelight, is that any way to treat a visitor? I admit I may have been somewhat of a recluse these last couple of years, but I haven't grown so inhospitable that I'll deny lodging to one who has lost his way at night—much less if he has a child with him."

The speaker slowly came forward: a gray-haired man who appeared at first glance to be around sixty or sixty-five, yet still commanded a distinguished presence despite his apparent years and frailty.

However, the elderly gentleman's eyes immediately widened in horror upon sight of the imposing silver-and-blue armor that Zhao Yun was wearing, as well as the tall and bloodied spear he held expertly in his hands. With a strangled gasp, the old man staggered back and away from Zhao Yun, leaning heavily onto his cane for support.

Zhao Yun let his Fierce Dragon drop with a clatter as he joined Firelight in rushing forward and helping the old gentleman steady himself. Said gentleman looked up at Zhao Yun's handsome, dirt-streaked face, and asked with wild fear in both his voice and his eyes, "You're a general! Are you...are you with the army of Lu Bu?"

Zhao Yun hastened to assure him, "Sir, please let me explain. My name is Zhao Yun, and yes, it's true that I'm a general, but the army I belong to is that of the Shu-Han. You have my word that I've never served under Lu Bu."

But the old man still looked afraid, inquiring next, "Then, General Zhao, have you just come back from a battle against Lu Bu?"

Zhao Yun couldn't help but give him a strange look at this question, before proceeding to explain as gently as possible, "Sir...the man you're talking about was executed almost a year ago by Cao Cao, King of Wei, following the Siege of Xiapi. Lu Bu is long dead, his army scattered across the four corners of China."

The old man breathed a sigh of relief, murmuring softly, "Saints preserve us."

It didn't take him too long to regain his composure afterwards, and when he did, he personally led both guest and horse inside. Pretty Firelight closed the gates firmly shut, and Zhao Yun stepped into the isolated country estate that was to be his refuge—his Refuge Park—for that night.