Great chaos must precede great order.

Day after day, they pressed onward, traveling by daylight and resting at night. Along the way, they were sometimes met by retainers and old officials of the Xun family, or hosted by enterprises belonging to the Luan clan; thus, Luan Yi and his party enjoyed comfortable lodgings and meals, as if touring scenic hills and rivers.

Ten days later, they left Yingchuan Commandery behind, the boundary markers of Yuzhou receding into the distance… and mighty Hulao Gate looming before them.

It was Luan Yi's first time beholding an ancient fortified pass; his prior experience was limited to the city walls of various counties in Yingchuan.

Upon seeing Hulao Gate, he could not help but feel that those seemingly tall city walls resembled little more than the walls of a family courtyard; only such a grand pass as Hulao could truly be called a defensive fortification.

Nestled amid towering mountains, Hulao Gate stood between sheer cliffs, forming the sole passage westward in the region. The gate itself rose more than two zhang high and stretched nearly one zhang wide, wide enough for two war chariots to ride abreast atop its ramparts. Watchtowers crowded the upper levels, with thousands of lookout slots and embrasures. Behind the battlements, though the Han soldiers’ attire was somewhat unkempt, their formation was orderly, standing at attention with an imposing martial air.

Luan Yi thought that, in an era of cold weapons, to conquer such a place would almost be a miracle.

As a vital thoroughfare to the imperial capital, the area outside Hulao Gate bustled with merchants and travelers, queues forming in a somewhat chaotic line for inspection at the gate. Many shrewd peddlers had set up stalls along the roadside, their cries ringing out ceaselessly – the scene was lively and full of vigor.

By the time Luan Yi’s party arrived, it was already midday. They waited in line for two whole hours before reaching the gate.

Before the grand, imposing gates of Hulao, more than twenty soldiers stood guard, all clad in armor and wielding long spears, their expressions fierce and forbidding. Among them, the leader’s armor was especially resplendent; he wore a leopard-patterned helmet, and the breastplate bore a finely carved tiger's head. This must surely be the gate’s commanding officer.

Seeing a sizable caravan approach, the officer stroked his rough beard, steadied his sword, and came forward with a businesslike expression, barking sternly, “Halt for inspection! Prepare your entrance tax, fifty coins per person!”

Emperor Ling of Han was notoriously greedy, fond of profitless schemes. This gate levy was his own idea. Fifty coins meant little to Luan Yi’s party, but for common folk it was a considerable expense; with thirty more coins, one could buy a full dou of grain.

Thus, the word “tax” made Luan Yi uneasy.

Xi Zhicai, now the spokesman for the group, dismounted with an amiable smile, engaging the officer in friendly conversation, making him laugh heartily.

Soon after, Xi Zhicai returned and whispered to Luan Yi, who then took a gold ingot and discreetly handed it to the officer.

The officer’s smile deepened at the sight of the gold, and with a broad gesture, he signaled the soldiers to open the gate and let them through.

He watched as the large caravan rolled in, noting the deep ruts left on the road. Weighing the gold ingot in his hand, he mused how much gold must be loaded in those wagons to make such heavy tracks.

He gave a subtle signal to a guard behind him, who promptly followed the caravan inside.

Because they had lost so much time at the gate, Luan Yi’s party could not reach the nearest town before nightfall, and so sought lodging in a village west of Hulao Gate.

While staying there, Luan Yi observed the villagers’ daily life. After seeing and hearing their circumstances, a sense of sorrow arose within him. He had thought that in the capital’s vicinity, the people would fare better than elsewhere, but the reality was otherwise. The villagers’ faces were wan; their granaries empty, they survived by foraging wild vegetables each day. Many families owned only one or two sets of clothes for the entire household; whoever went out wore them, while those staying at home remained naked.

In the chill of autumn, Luan Yi could not imagine how they managed to survive.

Luan Yi and his companions were perplexed. The autumn harvest had just passed, and it was not a year of disaster; the stores should be full, so why were the villagers so destitute?

Puzzled, they asked an elder in the village. The old man, tears streaming down his face, explained: all the land in the region belonged to powerful clans; villagers were merely tenants of the gentry. Each year, a third of their harvest went to taxes, a third to the landlords, and though a third should remain for themselves, being so near Hulao Gate, soldiers from the gate would come and seize what was left. Thus their lives were so hard.

Luan Yi was stunned. In the Eastern Han, the yield per mu was meager, and even setting aside the soldiers’ depredations, the gentry and court took so much… Compared to the people here, the farmers of Yingchuan were much better off. Guided by the Xun family, the gentry there demanded only a thirteenth as rent—a mere thirteenth of the yield. Moreover, on the first, seventh, fifteenth, and twenty-first of each month, the Luan and Xun families took turns ladling out porridge, providing the people with a good meal.

After touring the village, Luan Yi’s party returned to their rented hut, sitting quietly on the kang, lost in contemplation. The dim room was long enveloped in silence.

“What wrong have the people done, to suffer so?” Mao Jie wept bitterly, covering his face and sighing deeply.

Sorrow filled the room. Witnessing such misery, anyone would be moved to tears.

“Do the authorities not know of the people’s hardship?” Guo Jia beat his chest in anguish.

“It would be strange if they did!” Xi Zhicai leaned lazily by the window, gazing at the moonlit night. “Hidden in the capital, drinking and exchanging witty tales, how would they know the hardships of the people? Are we not the same? Before leaving Yingchuan, I thought its people suffered enough, but now, seeing the situation near the capital… ah, I find their lives almost enviable!” He glanced at Luan Yi and Xun Yu with heartfelt gratitude; were it not for their example, the people of Yingchuan might have ended up like those of Luoyang.

“If this continues, chaos will surely erupt,” Cheng Yu declared accurately.

Luan Yi, worried, added, “Within ten years, the realm will be in turmoil!” In truth, it would take less than five years before Zhang Jiao’s uprising.

“That cannot be! Surely there are worthy men at court who will devise measures to relieve the people’s suffering!” Loyal to the Han, Xun Yu maintained his faith in the dynasty.

“Relief?” Luan Yi sneered. “There are indeed men of worth—my teacher Cai Yong, Zheng Xuan, Huangfu Song, all renowned sages. But what posts do they hold? Dean of the Imperial Academy, scholar… General Huangfu is idle at home. The eunuchs control the court, while the wise go unused—this is mismanagement. Since the Emperor’s accession, official posts are openly bought and sold; talented but poor men cannot display their abilities—this is maladministration. Taxes and levies are endless; the people are impoverished, hungry, and desperate. If this continues, the people’s loyalty will wane. With these conditions, how can the realm not fall into chaos?”

Xun Yu was speechless, bowing his head in sorrow. “If what you say is true, must the Han decline?”

Luan Yi shook his head. He sincerely did not wish for the fall of Han, this great dynasty. “Let us hope that we can one day use our learning to restore the state.”

Xun Yu brightened. “Do you know how to save the world?”

Luan Yi thought for a moment. “Only after great chaos can there be great order.”

“Only after great chaos can there be great order?” Xun Yu pondered this several times, then suddenly opened his eyes wide. “You mean the turmoil is inevitable.”

“Indeed!” Luan Yi unfolded his folding fan, a single lotus leaf among the scattered leaves—might he become the brilliant lotus in this troubled age?

“Brother!” At that moment, Dian Wei’s powerful figure appeared at the door, gesturing for Luan Yi to come over; he had urgent news.

Luan Yi hurried over, leaning in as Dian Wei spoke: “I just patrolled the wagons and horses, and happened to see someone lurking around, spying on us. Judging by his clothes, he was no villager. I grew suspicious and came to warn you.”

“Is he still there?” Luan Yi’s heart jolted.

“He ran off when he realized I’d spotted him. I gave chase, but he slipped into the woods and vanished,” Dian Wei said, worry written on his face.

Inside, Guo Jia and the others saw Luan Yi and Dian Wei conferring in hushed tones, looking grave, and asked if something had happened.

Luan Yi licked his parched lips. “Friends, it seems we’re in for some serious trouble!” He then recounted Dian Wei’s report of the mysterious spy.

“Ah?” Just then, Xiao Cui entered, carrying hot water for everyone. Hearing this, her face went pale with fear. “Are we being targeted by thieves?”

“Very likely!” Luan Yi nodded repeatedly, then added, “In the capital region, once past Hulao Gate it’s open country, with nowhere suitable for ambush. The towns along the way are many; thieves wouldn’t strike there. This village, by contrast, is remote, five li from Hulao Gate. If I were a thief, I’d choose this place. As for timing, it must be tonight, since tomorrow we leave!”

Everyone nodded, deep in thought.

Xiao Cui set down her copper kettle and cried, “What should we do? We should run!”

“In the dark, the roads are hard to follow; how could we flee? Besides, our wagons are heavy and horses weary—we couldn’t escape quickly,” Mao Jie shook his head, dismissing her idea.

“In that case, we must strengthen our guards tonight,” Dian Wei rumbled.

“No!” Luan Yi waved his hand. “They are hidden, we are exposed, and their numbers are unknown. If there are many, and they attack while we are exhausted, we could be utterly destroyed.”

“We cannot run, nor endure—what then?” Xun Yu sighed deeply, regretting bringing so much wealth to the capital, drawing thieves upon themselves.

“Don’t worry, Brother Wenruo.” Luan Yi looked to Guo Jia and Shan Fu. “Jia, Fu, have you any plans?”

Guo Jia smiled slightly. “What’s the difficulty? A pack of rats daring to challenge the officials of Yingchuan—I think they’re courting death!”

“What’s the strategy? Don’t keep us waiting,” everyone urged.

“Don’t panic!” Guo Jia took several tea bowls from the table, arranged them to mimic the village layout, and spoke slowly. “Why not turn their scheme against them?”