Reborn In The Three Kingdoms

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He dipped his brush in ink. The banquet for Xun You and Huang Zhong would be a joyous celebration of the past year’s victories, yes. But when the wine was finished and the music faded, Lie Fan would present his Grand Commandant and his Minister of Works with their next impossible task. He began to draw the foundation lines for the greatest architectural undertaking in the history of humanity. The Black Dragon had secured its borders, now, it was time to build its cage.

For hours, the only sound in the imperial study was the soft, rhythmic scratching of the calligraphy brush against the heavy parchment. Lie Fan was entirely consumed by the geographic and logistical realities of the project. He didn’t just want a line on a map; he needed a structurally sound, defensible perimeter that exploited the natural terrain of the western frontier.

His brush traced the winding, treacherous path of the Hexi Corridor. This narrow, vital artery of the Silk Road was flanked by the desolate Gobi Desert to the north and the towering, impassable Qilian Mountains to the south. It was a natural choke point. Lie Fan drew a thick, unbroken line connecting the northern fortifications straight down through the corridor, essentially sealing the throat of the western trade route.

But he didn’t stop there. He extended the line further south, cutting across the arid plateaus of the Qinghai region, tracing the natural defensive lines of the Yellow River’s upper basins. He highlighted specific, strategic geographic markers, high ridges, narrow mountain passes, and deep river gorges, where the wall would naturally incorporate the earth’s own defenses, minimizing construction materials while maximizing defensive superiority.

As he drew, he meticulously marked the locations for the Great Gates. A wall that completely isolated the empire would strangle its economy. The Silk Road had to remain open, but strictly on Hengyuan’s terms. He designated massive, fortress like transit hubs at Jiayuguan in the north and Yumen Pass further west.

These wouldn’t just be doors in the wall, they would be sprawling, heavily militarized customs cities. Here, every ounce of silk, every foreign merchant, and every piece of incoming intelligence would be rigorously inspected, taxed, and documented by imperial magistrates before taking a single step onto mainland soil.

Lie Fan paused, flexing his cramped hand. He looked at the staggering length of the proposed Western Wall. It was thousands of miles long. And yet, he knew it wasn’t enough to just build a new wall, the old one had to match the terrifying standard he was setting.

He picked up his brush again and began drafting the architectural requirements. The original northern Great Wall, a patchwork of rammed earth and loose stone built by desperate, fractured dynasties over centuries, was insufficient for the mechanized future he envisioned.

’The entire structure must be unified,’ Lie Fan wrote in rapid, decisive strokes on a separate sheet of silk. ’The new Western Wall, and the totality of the northern fortifications, will undergo a complete, unprecedented renovation. The foundation will be solid granite, quarried by black powder. The core will be packed earth, but the exterior facing will be kiln fired brick, bound with the new hydraulic lime mortar developed in the Imperial Workshop.’

He dictated the physical dimensions, pulling from his modern knowledge to create an impassable barrier. ’The height will be a minimum of thirty feet across all level terrain, rising to forty feet at the gates. The width at the crest will be wide enough for five armored cavalrymen to ride abreast, ensuring rapid deployment of defensive forces along the entire perimeter.’

He drafted the inclusion of integrated watchtowers every few hundred yards, designed specifically to house heavy repeating crossbow batteries and signal fire platforms.

It was a truly humongous project. It would require the mobilization of millions of laborers, the continuous output of hundreds of brick kilns, and a logistical supply chain that would strain the empire’s resources for the next two decades. It was a project that could define an entire generation. But when it was done, Hengyuan would not just be an empire, it would be a fortress continent, impenetrable from without, and inescapable from within.

Lie Fan finally set his brush down as the late afternoon sun began to cast long, golden shadows across his study. He had spent the entire day, from the cool morning hours to the edge of twilight, drafting the blueprint for eternity.

He rubbed his eyes, a profound sense of physical and mental exhaustion washing over him. The fate of empires was a heavy burden, even for a visionary. He needed a grounding force, a reminder of the human element he was fighting so desperately to protect.

He needed his family.

For the past several months, the Imperial Palace had been unusually quiet. With Lie Fan publicly championing the women’s revolution, his five wives had eagerly embraced their newfound societal roles. Ying Yue was constantly overseeing the expansion of the imperial hospitals. Diao Chan was deeply involved in establishing the national academies of art and music. Cai Wenji was consumed by the codification of the new legal and historical texts. Lu Lingqi was tirelessly drilling the female auxiliary infantry units, and Zhen Ji was practically running Yu Clan Merchant Guild from her private office.

They were a family of unparalleled brilliance and ambition, but their schedules rarely aligned. Tonight, however, Lie Fan had issued a gentle, yet firm, imperial request for a private family dinner.

He stood up from his desk, stretching his broad shoulders. A mischievous, domestic thought suddenly crossed his mind, a sharp contrast to the brutal geopolitics he had just been orchestrating.

”I think,” Lie Fan murmured to himself, a warm smile touching his lips, ”it is time to surprise them.”

He passed the formal dining halls and the opulent receiving rooms, making his way through the quiet, beautifully manicured corridors of the inner palace until he reached the bustling, chaotic heart of the Imperial Kitchens.

The Imperial Kitchens were a massive complex of roaring hearths, steaming bamboo baskets, and shouting sous chefs, responsible for feeding the thousands of guards, officials, and servants who kept the palace running.

When Emperor Hongyi, dressed in his relaxed evening robes, casually strolled through the heavy swinging doors, the absolute, panicked silence that instantly fell over the room was comical.

Dozens of chefs, apprentices, and scullery maids froze in place. A massive cleaver slipped from a butcher’s hand, clattering loudly against a wooden block. The Head Chef, an elderly, highly respected culinary master named Master Chen, nearly dropped a porcelain bowl of delicate abalone soup.

The Emperor was a divine figure. He was the master of the world. To see him standing in the hot, grease scented air of the kitchens was as jarring as seeing a dragon resting in a pigsty.

”Your... Your Imperial Majesty!” Master Chen stammered, frantically wiping his hands on his apron and dropping to his knees, immediately followed by the entire kitchen staff. ”We are honored beyond words! Is there a problem with the evening menu? Has something displeased the Son of Heaven?”

”Rise, Master Chen, and tell your staff to return to their work before the duck burns,” Lie Fan said warmly, waving his hand dismissively. ”Nothing has displeased me. In fact, I am here because I require a station. I will be cooking dinner for my wives tonight.”

If the Emperor’s appearance had been a surprise, his statement was an absolute, reality shattering thunderbolt.

”Cook... cook yourself, Your Majesty?” Master Chen gaped, his mind unable to process the concept. There was absolutely no precedent in the thousands of years of Chinese history for an Emperor, the Son of Heaven, to lower himself to the manual labor of a cook for anyone, not even his most favored concubines or his own children. It was considered entirely beneath his divine dignity.

”Yes. And I will need a large wok, fresh oil, and some specific ingredients,” Lie Fan replied, already rolling up the wide sleeves of his silk robes and tying a pristine white apron around his waist.

The kitchen staff watched in a state of absolute, terrified awe as the most powerful man in the world effortlessly commandeered a prep station.

Lie Fan started simple, demonstrating a culinary competence that further stunned the watching chefs. He expertly chopped fresh scallions and ginger with a terrifying, rhythmic speed that rivaled the best butchers in the room. He prepared a delicate, perfectly balanced clear broth soup with lotus root and tender pork ribs, utilizing techniques that were fundamentally simple but executed with flawless precision.

But the simple dishes were just the prelude. Lie Fan had a very specific, highly nostalgic craving from his past life, and he was determined to recreate it for his wives.

He motioned for Master Chen. ”I need a dozen chicken thighs, bone in. I need wheat flour, salt, black pepper, and whatever dried herbs you have, thyme, basil, oregano, garlic powder, and ground mustard seed if the western merchants have brought any.”

Master Chen, still operating in a state of mild shock, frantically ordered his apprentices to gather the ingredients.

Lie Fan took a large wooden bowl and began mixing the dry ingredients. He didn’t have the exact, chemically precise ”eleven herbs and spices” of the modern world, but his culinary memory and the incredible quality of the imperial spices allowed him to create a highly potent, deeply aromatic flour dredge.

He then took a separate bowl, whisking fresh eggs and milk into a thick wash. He took the pieces of raw chicken, coating them first in the wet wash, and then vigorously tossing them in the seasoned flour mixture, ensuring a thick, craggy coating adhered to the meat.

”Heat the oil,” Lie Fan ordered, pointing to a massive, deep iron wok sitting over a roaring coal fire. ”It must be hot enough to instantly sizzle, but not so hot that it burns the flour before the meat cooks.”

When the oil reached the perfect, shimmering temperature, Lie Fan carefully dropped the battered chicken pieces into the wok.

The sound was a violent, hissing crackle. Instantly, a smell erupted from the wok that absolutely stopped the entire kitchen in its tracks.

It was not the delicate, refined scent of steamed fish or the complex, savory aroma of braised pork belly that the imperial chefs were accustomed to. It was a rich, heavy, intoxicating smell of frying fat, toasted flour, and a complex symphony of savory, peppery spices. It was the primal, universal smell of comfort food.

The apprentices stopped chopping. The sous chefs turned away from their own stoves. The entire kitchen staff was collectively salivating, their eyes wide as they stared at the bubbling oil.

Lie Fan used long wooden chopsticks to carefully turn the chicken, watching the pale flour mixture transform into a deep, jagged, golden brown crust. When they were perfectly fried, he lifted them out, letting the excess oil drain, revealing pieces of chicken that looked incredibly crispy and decadent.

”By the gods,” Master Chen whispered reverently, leaning closer to inspect the golden crust. ”What is this technique, Your Majesty? It is battered, but the crust is so thick and textured. The aroma alone is enough to conquer a province.”

Lie Fan chuckled, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. ”It is a recipe from... a very distant land, Master Chen. We shall call it Golden Fried Chicken. It is simple, but incredibly satisfying.”

Lie Fan quickly wrote down the exact ratios of the flour dredge and the frying temperature on a piece of parchment. He handed it to the Head Chef.

”Keep this recipe, Master Chen. You may add it to the imperial repertoire for informal occasions,” Lie Fan instructed. However, he quickly raised a cautionary finger. ”But hear me well. This food is a luxury of flavor, but a burden on the body. The amount of oil absorbed by the crust is substantial. It is heavy on the heart and the stomach. It is not to be eaten daily, nor is it to be served to the elderly officials. It is a rare indulgence.”

Master Chen accepted the parchment as if it were a sacred scroll, bowing deeply. ”I understand perfectly, Your Majesty. It shall be treated with the utmost respect.”

With the dinner prepared, the steaming dishes were loaded onto covered silver trays by the terrified, honored servants. Lie Fan quickly washed his hands, discarded the apron, and changed into a fresh, elegant set of deep crimson evening robes before making his way to the private family dining pavilion.

The pavilion was a beautiful, open-air structure situated in the center of a tranquil koi pond, illuminated by dozens of soft silk lanterns. A large, circular mahogany table was set in the center, waiting for the family to assemble.

Ying Yue was the first to arrive. The Empress looked incredibly elegant, yet subtly exhausted, wearing soft, pale blue robes, her hair pinned back with simple jade ornaments. She smiled warmly at Lie Fan, taking her seat by his side.

”The hospitals are thriving, my love,” Ying Yue sighed happily, resting her hand on his. ”But organizing the new medicinal supply lines from the south is a logistical puzzle.”

Lu Lingqi arrived next, striding into the pavilion with her usual martial energy. She had eschewed her heavy armor for a comfortable, dark red tunic, but she still carried the unmistakable aura of a commander. ”The new female recruits are fierce, husband. They broke three wooden training posts today,” she reported proudly, taking her seat. 𝖋𝘳ℯ

Zhen Ji and Cai Wenji arrived together, deep in a conversation about the economic implications of the new legal codes, both looking radiant and intellectually stimulated. Lastly, Diao Chan floated into the pavilion, her beauty as breathtaking as ever, humming a complex new melody she had been composing for the royal academy.

For the first time in months, the entire family was gathered at one table. The atmosphere was instantly filled with warm laughter, the clinking of teacups, and the joyous, overlapping chatter of five incredibly driven, successful women unwinding with the man they loved.

It was only when the palace servants began to silently uncover the silver cloches that the conversation halted.

The women looked at the spread before them. There was a delicate lotus root soup, perfectly stir fried seasonal greens with garlic, and a beautifully presented plate of thinly sliced, marinated beef.

But their eyes were immediately drawn to the large, central platter piled high with the jagged, deeply golden brown pieces of Golden Fried Chicken. The rich, savory, peppery aroma instantly filled the pavilion, causing a collective, very un imperial watering of mouths.

”This smells... incredible,” Diao Chan murmured, leaning forward, her eyes wide. ”I have never seen a dish prepared with such a textured crust. Which of the master chefs created this?”

Lie Fan leaned back in his chair, a slow, deeply affectionate smile spreading across his face.

”None of them,” Lie Fan replied casually, taking a sip of his tea. ”I cooked it.”

The pavilion descended into a state of absolute, stunned silence.

The five women froze, staring at Lie Fan as if he had just casually announced he had plucked the moon from the sky. They looked from his relaxed, smiling face to the perfectly executed dishes on the table, and back again.

”You... you cooked?” Lu Lingqi asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes wide with shock.

”The Emperor of Hengyuan stood in the kitchens... and cooked some foods?” Cai Wenji added, her brilliant mind struggling to reconcile the supreme, divine authority of her husband with the mundane, domestic act of preparing a meal.

In the long, deeply entrenched history of their society, the very concept of an Emperor cooking was not just unheard of, it was culturally impossible. The kitchen was the domain of servants. For the Son of Heaven, a man whose every whim commanded armies and shaped continents, to willingly perform manual labor to feed his wives was an act of humility and devotion that completely shattered their worldview.

Ying Yue looked at the food, and then at Lie Fan, her eyes suddenly swimming with unshed tears. The sheer, overwhelming depth of love and absolute equality conveyed by this simple act struck her deeply. He didn’t just support their ambitions, he valued them enough to serve them.

”You shouldn’t have, my love,” Ying Yue whispered, her voice thick with emotion. ”It is beneath your station.”

Lie Fan reached out, gently taking her hand. He looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each of his brilliant, exhausted wives.

”Nothing done for my family is beneath my station,” Lie Fan said softly, his voice filled with a profound, grounding warmth. ”For months, I have watched all of you work tirelessly, breaking traditions and building a better empire. You have been waiting for me to return from my duties for years. Tonight, I wanted to understand, even just a little, the simple joy of waiting for the people you love to come home to a warm meal.”

A collective, soft sigh of pure adoration rippled around the table. Zhen Ji wiped a stray tear from her cheek, while Diao Chan offered him a smile so radiant it could have stopped a war. In that moment, the Emperor was gone, replaced entirely by a deeply loving, devoted husband.

”Now,” Lie Fan commanded playfully, breaking the emotional tension, ”eat before it gets cold. I highly recommend the golden chicken. It is a completely new creation.”

The women did not hesitate. They reached for the fried chicken, the crispy, jagged crust crunching audibly as they took their first bites.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Lu Lingqi’s eyes widened dramatically as the savory, heavily spiced crust gave way to incredibly juicy, tender meat. ”By the gods of war,” she mumbled around a mouthful, completely abandoning her usual martial decorum. ”This is spectacular. The crunch... the spices...”

”It is aggressively flavorful,” Cai Wenji agreed, delicately dabbing her lips with a silk napkin, though she immediately reached for a second piece. ”The texture is entirely unique. It is a masterpiece of culinary engineering.”

Lie Fan chuckled heartily as he watched his wives enthusiastically devour the meal he had prepared. The simple, domestic joy of the moment was a perfect balm for his weary soul. ”I have given the recipe to Master Chen,” Lie Fan explained, picking up a piece of chicken for himself. ”You may request it in the future. However, a word of caution.”

______________________________

Name: Lie Fan

Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty

Age: 37 (204 AD)

Level: 16

Next Level: 462,000

Renown: 2325

Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 11)

SP: 1,121,700

ATTRIBUTE POINTS

STR: 1,010 (+20)

VIT: 659 (+20)

AGI: 653 (+10)

INT: 691

CHR: 98

WIS: 569

WILL: 436

ATR Points: 0

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