Chapter 389: The Three Oaths in the Peach Garden

After a single incense stick.

The sky curtain brightened again.

Warm light spread across the entire canopy, the scene hadn't appeared yet, but the wind arrived first.

The wind carried the scent of flower petals.

The loud commentary from the canopy rang through the heavens:

【Reviewing the famous scenes of the Three Kingdoms—】

【Scene Eight: The Three Oaths in the Peach Garden】

【In the late Han, the Yellow Turban chaos, war smoke rose everywhere, the world fell into turmoil, the masses were displaced, white bones lay exposed in the fields.】

In a secluded Peach Garden of Zhu County, warm breezes brushed the branches, peach blossoms fluttered across the sky, fallen petals carpeted the green stone ground.】

The scene appeared.

The entire peach forest covered the canopy, branches intertwined, and every twig was adorned with blossoms.

The petals weren't bright red, but a pale pink faded by repeated spring sunshine, with a hint of white at the edges.

When the wind blew, the petals left the branches, twirled a few times in the air, then fell down.

They settled on the ground in a thin layer; stepping on them made no sound, only a very light, soft feel.

Deep in the peach forest lay a clearing; fine grass grew in the cracks of the bluestone slabs, and the slab surfaces were half-covered by fallen blossoms.

In the center of the clearing stood a stone table, on which rested three incense sticks, still unlit, their tips dry.

Three people stood before the stone table.

The one on the left had thick, long earlobes, arms reaching past his knees, wore a half-worn cloth robe whose hem was stained with a bit of dried mud, as if he had been traveling for a long time.

When he stood before the table, his hands hung at his sides, fingertips slightly curled, his gaze fixed on the incense, unmoving.

The one in the middle was exceptionally tall, with a long beard hanging to his chest, a slightly flushed complexion, and when he spread his palm, an old callus at the web of his thumb could be seen.

He stood to the left of the robe‑clad man, his body slightly turned, as if using his shape to block the wind blowing from the side—

The wind wasn't strong, yet he still shifted half a step sideways.

The one on the right had a broad back and a bear‑like waist, a dark complexion, round bright eyes, stood to the right of the robe‑clad man, arms crossed over his chest, chin slightly raised.

He glanced at the man on the left, then at the man on the right, and lowered his crossed arms.

Liu Bei lifted his hand from his side, his fingertips touching the three incense sticks, took one, and handed it to Guan Yu.

Guan Yu took it and passed it to Zhang Fei.

Zhang Fei took it, pinched it in his hand, looked down at the incense tip, then lifted the incense half an inch.

When the incense was lit, the flame flickered once in the daylight wind before steadied.

Blue‑gray smoke rose from the incense head, thin and straight, passing through the blossoms overhead, dispersing into the sky.

The three of them knelt simultaneously.

The sound of their knees hitting the bluestone was faint, yet in the canopy's recording it was heard clearly.

Liu Bei knelt in the middle, Guan Yu on the left, Zhang Fei on the right; the spacing between them was even, neither loose nor cramped.

Liu Bei spoke in a soft voice, but his enunciation was crystal clear: "Liu Bei, style name Xuan De."

Guan Yu: "Guan Yu, style name Yun Chang."

Zhang Fei: "Zhang Fei, style name Yi De."

The three lowered their heads together; their foreheads did not touch the ground, but the curve of their necks was identical.

Liu Bei's voice continued, neither high nor low, each syllable ending sharply, as if carving on the stone slab: "Do not seek to be born on the same year, same month, same day—"

Guan Yu followed: "May we die on the same year, same month, same day."

Zhang Fei's voice joined at the end: "With one heart and united effort, we will support the Han court, report to the nation above, and bring peace to the common folk below."

The blue‑gray smoke from the three incense sticks met above the three heads, was carried by the wind, dispersed and gathered, gathered and dispersed again.

Peach blossoms fell onto Liu Bei's shoulder, one petal after another, and he did not brush them away.

The narrator's voice from the canopy sounded a final time, lighter than before, as if fearing to disturb something:

"This bow knocks open the veil of the chaotic era that roiled the Three Kingdoms for decades; this oath composes a brotherly legend that will be recited for a thousand years."

"The incense of the Peach Garden curls gently, the peach blossoms wither and flourish year after year; this scene is the most tender, most moving, eternally immortal original moment in the entire saga of the Three Kingdoms."

The scene froze on those three incense sticks.

The ash at the burnt tip had not yet fallen, a slender white curl, like a retracted fingertip.

The ground remained silent for a long while.

In front of the Shu army formation, Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei stood side by side, their positions almost identical to those in the canopy scene.

Liu Bei stood in the middle, Guan Yu on the left, Zhang Fei on the right.

None of the three spoke.

The peach blossoms on the canopy had already been gathered, yet the scent of the petals in the wind seemed not fully dispersed; Zhang Fei's nose twitched, but he did not turn his head.

Guan Yu's hand hung at his side, his fingertips curled slightly, then relaxed.

He looked at the three silhouettes kneeling under the peach tree in the canopy, and at the petal that had fallen on his own shoulder.

After a long while, Guan Yu finally spoke, his voice a pitch lower than usual: "At that time… the peach blossoms were in perfect bloom."

Zhang Fei added, his voice pressed low: "That year the bloom was indeed splendid."

Liu Bei said nothing.

He stood in the middle, both hands at his sides, his gaze still fixed on the direction where the canopy had vanished.

He stared for a while.

Then he tilted his head, glanced at Guan Yu on the left, then at Zhang Fei on the right.

He did not smile, but the corners of his mouth formed a faint curve.

Cao Cao stood at the front of the Cao Camp, with Guo Jia and Xun Yu behind him.

He finished watching the entire Peach Garden episode, gave no comment, gave no sigh, and after a while spoke, saying to Guo Jia behind him, "Fengxiao, how long have those three incense sticks been burning?"

Guo Jia did not expect him to ask that, and answered a beat slower: "Less than half a quarter‑hour."

Cao Cao nodded: "Half a quarter‑hour."

"Three strangers, half a quarter‑hour, sealed thirty years of life and death."

He lowered his hand from the rail, turned, took a step toward the camp tent, and then stopped.

"In my life, I, Cao Cao, have sought the world's famous scholars and recruited countless fierce generals."

"But I truly envy Da Er Ze, who has such brave and loyal sworn brothers."

Xun Yu stood behind Cao Cao, watched his silhouette, moved his lips slightly, and ultimately said nothing.

Over at Yuan Shao's side, he stood at the tent entrance, hands behind his back, gazing toward the direction where the sky canopy was fading.

A strategist beside him whispered a line:

"Lord, the Peach Garden oath is merely a rustic thug's martial‑arts stunt, hard to reach the refined hall—"

Yuan Shao raised his hand to stop him: "Rustic thug?"

He paused, then said, "Those three people—one later became King of Han, another became a Martial Saint, and the third took a general's head among ten thousand troops."

"The rustic thug from your family can produce such figures?"

The strategist fell silent.

Sun Ce stood in the Jiangdong formation, his gaze never leaving the Peach Forest scene just now.

Zhou Yu stood beside him, turned his head and glanced: "Uncle?"

Sun Ce: "Gongjin, tell me, if we had sworn the same oath back then…"

Zhou Yu was silent for a moment: "By the time we met, there was no need to bow."

Sun Ce thought for a moment: "Indeed."

All the generals across the realm, those who gathered under others' tents by a treaty or surrender document, now had somewhat distant looks.