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Near the Ba Commandery of Yizhou, there was a small county town with a thriving inn. Being close to the riverbank with beautiful scenery, it often attracted poets and literati for leisure trips. Moreover, the inn’s side dishes were famous for their superb taste, drawing many locals as regular patrons.
A plump, middle-aged man sat in the inn's garden, splitting firewood to supply the kitchen.
“Dad!” A chubby boy of about five or six came running over, laughing as he hugged him. “Mom says lunch is ready!”
“Got it, I’m coming.” The man hugged the boy back with a smile. Both father and son had round, chubby faces—one big, one small—with identical smiles, making for an endearing sight.
The two walked together into the side hall behind the inn’s garden. The man lifted the door curtain and saw a woman inside, already setting the dishes and tableware on the table.
“Ah Huo, come sit down. I made your favorite braised pork belly today!” The woman was graceful and gentle, with delicate features. She spoke to the man tenderly.
That’s right—he was Liaoyuen Fire.
His once athletic form was gone; middle age had brought weight, and even his once-handsome, sharply defined face had filled out. The sharpness in his eyes from his youth had completely vanished. Now, he looked like a good-natured, well-off middle-aged man. If Xiao Meng were to see him again, he likely wouldn’t recognize him.
“Great! I’m in for a treat today!” The little boy cheered happily.
“Yun Niang, you’re with child now. You don’t need to go to all this trouble—just make something simple,” Liaoyuen Fire said as he sat down, holding his wife's hand lovingly.
“This is nothing. Today the market had fresh pork, so I had to make something tasty! Enough talk, hurry and eat before it gets cold.” Yun Niang smiled and put a piece of pork belly in his bowl.
“Mmm... Delicious! Your cooking has improved again!” Liaoyuen Fire praised her with a thumbs-up after his first bite.
“Hee! You always flatter me!” Yun Niang beamed at his praise. The family of three enjoyed a warm, cheerful lunch together.
Yun Niang loved watching her husband eat her cooking with relish, never knowing that her husband had always been lying—he couldn't taste anything at all. Liaoyuen Fire felt neither pain nor flavor.
And here, he didn’t go by Liaoyuen as a surname. His family name was Wang, and his given name was Huo.
Wang Huo.
She knew nothing of his past.
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Since parting with Xiao Meng, Liaoyuen Fire had wandered from region to region, always hoping to find someone like Liu Bei—someone worthy of his loyalty. Truthfully, he never believed Xiao Meng’s words; he always felt Xiao Meng had been “led astray” by Lü Bu.
As for Xiao Meng’s claim that Sima Yi would hand them over to Cao Cao for trust—was it true? For years, he had never dared think about it. In time, he even forgot Xiao Meng had ever said it. The blurrier his memory got, the more he believed Xiao Meng had only acted out of Lü Bu’s manipulation; otherwise, he truly couldn’t fathom why Xiao Meng would kill Sima Yi and Liu Bei.
But after many years, he still found no one worthy of entrusting his life. Eventually, he settled in this small county town, weary of wandering, and decided to put down roots—marrying, raising a family. The inn he now ran had originally belonged to Yun Niang’s father; Liaoyuen Fire had merely been a guest at first.
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On this day, Liaoyuen Fire again visited Old Zhang’s butcher shop for meat. The shop was on the edge of town, with two simple tables and chairs out front. Besides selling fresh meat, they also served simple food.
Though the location wasn’t ideal, the meat was fresh and reasonably priced, and their roasted pork was renowned far and wide. The owner was warm and hospitable, and each customer was gifted a freshly made meat bun, making the shop as bustling as a marketplace.
In the three years since opening, Old Zhang had turned a once-deserted street into a lively hub.
As an inn owner needing to feed guests, Liaoyuen Fire bought large quantities of pork and beef here on the first and fifteenth of every month. Old Zhang knew him as a reputable innkeeper and always greeted him warmly, offering the best food and wine, with fresh buns and their famed roast pork.
Thus, every first and fifteenth, Liaoyuen Fire enjoyed a sumptuous free lunch here—contributing to his current girth.
While Old Zhang was talkative, Liaoyuen Fire rarely engaged in conversation, preferring to quietly enjoy his meal before buying his meat, paying, and having it delivered to the inn.
He enjoyed coming here for a respite from the household clamor, savoring a moment of peace. Though he lacked taste, it was the tranquility he found enjoyable.
Old Zhang, with his big, friendly eyes, was humorous and warm, often chatting with other customers. Liaoyuen Fire found amusement just listening in.
“Xiao He! Big Niu! This morning, a storyteller came to Fulai Teahouse, and tonight he’ll be telling the tale of Lü Bu and Diao Chan! Let’s go listen!” An even fatter customer excitedly told his companions.
“Great! I’ve always wanted to hear that story! Finally, a storyteller comes here!” replied either Big Niu or Xiao He.
Lü Bu...
Diao Chan...?
Over the years, tales of Lü Bu, Dong Zhuo, and Diao Chan had flourished—stories, plays, and more. Liaoyuen Fire never cared for them, disdaining the commoners’ amusements.
Mostly, he disliked how Lü Bu and Diao Chan’s names were always paired—though there was nothing he could do about it.
He never expected Old Zhang would feel similarly.
“Old Zhang! Once you close up, let’s go together!” The fat customer invited earnestly, but Old Zhang declined.
“No, thanks! I’m too busy these days—still have two pigs to slaughter after I close. You all go ahead.” Old Zhang smiled while clearing the table, but his eyes held an unusual indifference.
Liaoyuen Fire noticed this subtle change.
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“What a shame! Well, we’ll go. You get back to work.” The three customers paid and left, planning to arrive early at the teahouse for good seats.
“Thank you for your patronage! Take care!” Old Zhang maintained his usual hospitality, smiling as he saw them off. But once they were gone, his eyes flashed with disdain and contempt.
This piqued Liaoyuen Fire’s curiosity; he’d never imagined this sturdy, wrinkled man could show such an expression.
“Old Zhang, the story of Lü Bu and Diao Chan has been popular for years. Why not join the fun?” Liaoyuen Fire asked.
Old Zhang turned, surprised.
Boss Wang was a regular, but never initiated conversation! Smiling, he replied, “Bah, what’s so good about these vulgar street tales? They’re just made-up stories for the common folk’s idle amusement!” He wiped the table as he spoke, then went into the kitchen, continuing, “Lü Bu and Diao Chan? Hah! None of these storytellers have even seen Lü Bu’s shoe.” With no other customers, Old Zhang returned with a plate of buns and roast pork, plus two jugs of fine wine, and sat down.
“I’d never waste money on such big lies.” He poured himself a drink and downed it, his tone mournful—so different from his usual hearty manner.
“That’s true! We ordinary folk never see great figures,” Liaoyuen Fire replied. He always maintained friendly relations with locals, but never got too close.
Still, today, he found Old Zhang’s oddity intriguing.
Maybe life had just gotten too dull.
“I am an ordinary man, but I’ve seen one,” Old Zhang said, downing another cup before speaking with certainty.
“Back in Xiapi, I was an obscure squad leader under him.”
Liaoyuen Fire was startled. He’d seen Old Zhang move here with his family years ago, noticed his sturdy build, the skillful butchering, and the old scars on his arms—he’d guessed Old Zhang had served in the military, but never thought he’d been connected to Lü Bu!
Even more surprising was how Old Zhang seemed to transform at Lü Bu’s mention. A sharpness flashed in his eyes—a soldier’s gaze!
Like a blade under thick dust, washed by water, revealing its cold edge.
“Wow... Brother Zhang, I had no idea—my apologies!” Liaoyuen Fire said.
“Don’t flatter me, boss! I was just a low-ranking officer, not even qualified to meet General Lü in person most of the time.” Old Zhang chuckled, his eyes filled with the hardships of life.
“Just lucky, I guess. He wasn’t in Xiapi long, but I saw him twice.”
General Lü...
The term made Liaoyuen Fire uncomfortable, but he hid his feelings as he wondered whether to pay and leave. Yet, seeing Old Zhang lost in memories, it seemed rude to walk out.
Truthfully, he wanted to listen. Perhaps because Old Zhang had seen Lü Bu in Xiapi—where Xiao Meng had also lived. Liaoyuen Fire didn’t understand why he wanted to listen; he didn’t care to figure it out.
Old Zhang continued, “The first time was during the flood at Xiapi. My brothers and I desperately stacked sandbags against the torrent—you can’t imagine it, in winter, freezing cold, numb to everything, just moving on instinct, piling sandbags, blocking the flood with our bodies. All we knew was to fight for our lives.”
He took another drink, his tone flat, as if telling someone else’s story, but Liaoyuen Fire could imagine the hardship.
“I was so cold I could barely hold the sandbags, the flood hammering me—almost crushed! Guess what? Suddenly a big man showed up and held several sandbags in place with one hand! When I caught my breath, I realized it was General Lü!” At this point, Old Zhang fixed Liaoyuen Fire with a blazing look.
Their eyes met, and Liaoyuen Fire felt a long-lost... intensity.
“So... he saved you?” Liaoyuen Fire, for some reason, felt weak, barely able to respond.
“Yes, he saved me.” Old Zhang straightened his back, pride and brilliance in his eyes. He looked every inch the soldier he once was.
Liaoyuen Fire felt a pang of inferiority.
To feel small before a mere squad leader struck him as absurd.
“Then, without a glance at me, he joined the others in fighting the flood.” Old Zhang smiled warmly, taking a big bite of roast pork before growing wistful. “When the city fell, I wanted to die rather than surrender... but then I thought, my life was saved by General Lü! Could I throw it away meaninglessly? So I surrendered, then found a chance to leave Xiapi with my family, wandering through several places before coming here.” He pushed the buns and roast pork toward Liaoyuen Fire, urging him to eat, but Liaoyuen Fire had lost all appetite.
“The second time was even sadder. To seek Yuan Shao’s help, our lord had to personally send his daughter for a political marriage. Many could not help but weep. We watched as he led her out of the city, far into the distance... I stood on the city wall, and damn, Cao Cao had set an ambush!” Old Zhang took a big swig, cursing bitterly.
Lord...?
After Lü Bu’s defeat, the land remained in chaos. Regardless of who ruled, Old Zhang was no longer a soldier and seldom spoke of his past.
Yet in his heart, “lord” was always Lü Bu.
And Lü Bu had never harbored grand ambitions for the world. What had he done, really? No more than anyone—fighting for power and gain.
He was just a stone once thrown into the river of history, stirring a splash before sinking without a trace.
Liaoyuen Fire thought thus, his heart a jumble of emotion.
“Though far away, I saw... our lord, unarmed and unmounted, surrounded by several of Cao’s officers. With such an attack, their horses alone could have trampled him... but guess what happened?” Even after so many years, Old Zhang could hardly believe it.
“With one punch, he knocked a horse to the ground! Call me a liar, I don’t mind! But I saw those Cao officers knocked off their mounts by him!” Old Zhang took several gulps, as if only drinking could tamp down his excitement, then slammed the table.
“Damn! Bare-handed and still so fierce! If only Red Hare had brought him the halberd sooner, those Cao bastards would be dead! I wouldn’t be here telling you stories... That night, I truly saw what ‘Red Hare among horses, Lü Bu among men’ meant! He was a true god of war! Alas, defeat was destiny...”
Liaoyuen Fire sipped his wine, speaking quietly, “Nothing could be done... He was too lustful, turning on his adopted father for a beauty... patricide for glory...” His resentment toward Lü Bu had nowhere to go, so he could only snipe with what he knew were baseless rumors.
“Dong Zhuo was no good; he deserved to die!” Old Zhang immediately straightened, raising his voice in disagreement.
“And another thing,” Old Zhang leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing a real scandal about Lü Bu, “back in Xiapi, there was a beautiful woman skilled with the bow. I heard from the Lü family’s servant that she lived in the late madam’s room, but our lord always behaved with utmost propriety, never entering.”
He looked at Liaoyuen Fire, seeking understanding. “With such restraint, could he really be a man ruined by lust?”
Liaoyuen Fire suddenly stood, knuckles white. With a stern face, he said, “...Sorry, I have business at the inn. Thank you for your hospitality.” He paid the bill, “Please deliver the meat tomorrow. Goodbye.” He spoke abruptly and left.
Old Zhang was stunned, then snapped back to his professional warmth, sending him off with a smile.
He returned to being the Old Zhang of every day.
Liaoyuen Fire didn’t notice the sharp look Old Zhang gave his retreating back.
Though Old Zhang’s meat was cheap and good, Liaoyuen Fire resolved never to shop there again.
Strangely, half a month later, locals said Old Zhang’s shop had been sold to another butcher—he was taking his family back to their hometown.
The summer heat had just faded, the night cool as water. Liaoyuen Fire lay half-reclined on a bamboo chair in the garden.
With the onset of autumn, Liaoyuen Fire squinted at the crescent moon above.
At such idle, late-summer, early-autumn nights, he loved lying on the bamboo chair, letting the cool breeze blow, quietly reminiscing. He thought of the thrilling years of his youth, of the late Zhang Lei and Guo Ang, of Sima Yi, and of course, Xiao Meng—of the life-and-death adventures they shared, their farewell at Weiyang Palace, and the kiss Xiao Meng gave him before falling from the cliff, with that gentle smile. When one’s present and future are utterly clear, one can only look back to the past.
Is he... still with Lü Bu...?
After so many years, the thought still made him uncomfortable.
“Ah Huo.” Lost in thought, Yun Niang interrupted him.
“Yun’er’s asleep. Come in and rest!” She came out to the garden, speaking with concern. Liaoyuen Fire felt a flicker of impatience but replied gently, “Alright, I’ll sit a while longer. You go ahead, don’t catch a chill.” As Yun Niang turned to leave, she suddenly remembered something, turning back, “About the name for our son... I’ve decided—let’s call him Zilong, alright?”
“How do you know for sure it’s a boy!” Liaoyuen Fire laughed.
“This morning I went to the famous Baiyun Temple to pray for a son, even spent five hundred coins on a talisman. Of course it’s a boy!” Yun Niang glared, full of confidence.
“...Zilong...?” Liaoyuen Fire murmured.
“You picked Yun’er’s name too simply, and it’s not grand enough.” Yun Niang was a bit dissatisfied. “Zilong is such a good name! Powerful, meaningful—every parent wants their son to be a dragon! Even Aunt Niu next door praised it!” Liaoyuen Fire frowned unconsciously—Yun Niang was wonderful, but could be a bit naggy.
He quickly got up, hugged her, and said, “Yes, it’s a great name. Let’s call him Zilong!”
He kissed her cheek. “Clever wife, now I don’t have to rack my brains!”
“You rascal!” Yun Niang blushed and playfully scolded him, “You’d better come in soon, alright?” She returned indoors, and soon, the candlelight went out.
After this bustle, Liaoyuen Fire sighed and looked up at the moon.
Xiao Meng... if you were truly a woman, how wonderful that would be...
Liaoyuen Fire returned inside, undressed, and lay down beside his sleeping wife, who was already snoring.
He frowned, turned over, and faced away from Yun Niang.
Gradually, he closed his eyes, thinking: Xiao Meng, wherever you are, I wish you well.
Liaoyuen Fire drifted off to sleep.
This couple awaited the arrival of each new day, together.
“Ah! What a beautiful golden hairpin! Thank you, Ah Huo!”
Yun Niang’s eyes sparkled as she admired the peony-shaped gold hairpin, inlaid with pearls, jade, and agate. The design was unremarkable, but its value was obvious. Even for an innkeeper like Liaoyuen Fire, it was an extravagant gift. “Heh, today is your birthday—how could I not make you happy?” Liaoyuen Fire said with a grin.
Early that morning, as Yun Niang was washing up, Liaoyuen Fire had already brought out the gift, making her overjoyed.
The bedroom was filled with happiness.
The hairpin cost an entire month’s inn income, but he felt it was worth it. After all, women needed to be pampered, and Yun Niang worked hard managing the household.
“Thank you, husband. You treat me so well.” Yun Niang hugged him, showing a rare girlish shyness. “Silly, it’s what I should do. Today’s your birthday—don’t do any chores. Later, we’ll have lunch at the newly opened Duobao Tower in the east of town, then stroll around to see if you want to buy anything. Aunt Li next door can watch Yun’er.” Liaoyuen Fire smiled.
“Great! Thank you, darling!” Yun Niang squeezed him tighter, then added, “Since it’s my birthday, let’s have dinner at Fulai Teahouse and listen to the storyteller!”
“Storytelling?” Liaoyuen Fire frowned.
“Yes! ‘Lü Bu and Diao Chan’—today’s the last day for the storyteller’s residency. He leaves tomorrow. Can we go together?” Yun Niang rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
“These tales are just hearsay—what’s the point?” Liaoyuen Fire still frowned.
“Oh, come on! Who cares if they’re true or false? It’s just for fun. You work so hard at the inn, you should relax sometime, darling…” Yun Niang tried her best, her tone both sweet and plaintive.
Liaoyuen Fire felt annoyed, thinking: You just want to listen yourself, so why pretend it’s for me?
But he couldn’t bear to let her keep pestering.
Before she could say “darling” a fourth time, he sighed inwardly but forced a smile: “You have a point. Alright, let’s do as you say.”
At dusk, before the storytelling even began, Fulai Teahouse was packed and noisy.
Usually a mid-range teahouse with average business, it had flourished since hiring a storyteller for two weeks of different tales. Especially in the past few days, since the “Lü Bu and Diao Chan” story started, customers flocked in droves.
Upon entering, several elegantly dressed women in a private booth waved Yun Niang over, indicating they’d saved seats for her and her husband.
Soon, the storyteller appeared—a thin, oily-faced old scholar in a blue satin robe and jade pendant, looking rather dapper.
He performed with passion and vivid expression, beginning with “Three Heroes Battle Lü Bu.” The audience marveled at Lü Bu’s one-against-three bravery. A tea drinker nearby said, “Anyone who can fight Lü Bu must be remarkable. It’s a pity since that Lord died at Xiapi, his two brothers disappeared. Otherwise, with their abilities, they could have accomplished much.” His tone was full of regret.
Liaoyuen Fire listened sadly—since parting from Xiao Meng, he’d wandered the world, seeking both a worthy master and the whereabouts of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, hoping to achieve greatness with them.
Alas, like shooting stars, they vanished without a trace.
Liaoyuen Fire thought, in another twenty or thirty years, no one would mention their heroic deeds; they would only be minor characters in the “Three Heroes Battle Lü Bu” story.
Next, the storyteller recounted Lü Bu and Dong Zhuo’s bitter feud. The audience cursed Lü Bu as a “treacherous turncoat,” “ungrateful,” “inhuman.” This part, Liaoyuen Fire actually found agreeable.
But when the storyteller reached the “juicy bits”—Lü Bu’s romance with Diao Chan—the crowd grew even more excited, whispering, laughing, and the men’s lecherous gazes abounded. Seeing these men, Liaoyuen Fire suddenly thought of Sima Lang, his heart burning with anger, wanting to knock them all down.
But he knew he couldn’t do that.
All he could do was sullenly drink tea and eat the side dishes.
Though numb to taste and pain, his hearing was sharp—and he could not help but overhear Yun Niang and the women’s conversation nearby.
“I think Diao Chan was smitten with Lü Bu from the start,” Yun Niang said confidently.
“Diao Chan was loyal and righteous, using her beauty to kill Dong Zhuo. Would she really love such an ambitious fool?” another woman doubted.
“So what if she was loyal? What woman would sacrifice her happiness for loyalty? She must have had no choice—forced by circumstances!” Yun Niang replied with a hint of disdain, sipping her tea before continuing, “One’s an old fat pig, the other a young, powerful general. Which way do you think her heart would turn?”
Yun Niang’s argument was convincing, and the other women praised her wisdom, calling her a strategist and making her beam with delight. Just then, her husband interjected coldly,
“It’s too crowded here—I need some air.”
Before Yun Niang could react, he left.
Away from the stifling teahouse, Liaoyuen Fire crossed to a small tavern, ordered two bottles of white liquor, and drank alone, unable to dispel his frustration.
The teahouse’s din was gone, but Old Zhang’s words echoed in his mind.
“I’d never spend money on those big lies.”
“Red Hare among horses, Lü Bu among men—I saw it myself!”
“He was a true god of war!”
“He let her stay in the madam’s room, never intruding…”
Clack!
Liaoyuen Fire slammed his cup down. He felt Heaven had treated him unfairly.
He’d given up on ideals, only seeking a quiet life, yet could not recall a single truly peaceful day in all these years.
Thinking it over, he realized he’d mistaken a dull, flavorless life for peace.
But now, what could he do?
He took another big gulp.
Soon, the audience dispersed from the teahouse. As dusk deepened, Liaoyuen Fire stood and headed back—he couldn’t let Yun Niang know he’d been drinking gloomily, as he lacked any plausible excuse.
Four or five young men came out, discussing the story they’d just heard.
“So what’s the point of making a name for yourself? Lü Bu died young anyway.”
“He was too ambitious and greedy. If he hadn’t killed Dong Zhuo, would he have ended up like that?”
“You think sparing Dong Zhuo would have kept him safe? That’s naïve! In the end, making a name is just living on the edge.”
“True. People like us, living ordinary lives, having children and grandchildren, living long—that’s the real deal!” Amid the chatter, one strong voice stood out, drawing Liaoyuen Fire’s gaze.
“A real man should not just muddle through! Achievements, beauties—only then is life worth living! Who doesn’t die? At least Lü Bu was glorious. Have you?”
The speaker was tall, square-faced, with thick brows and big eyes—a born leader.
“Come on, we’re just chatting. Why so serious?”
“Yeah…” The group laughed and rambled away, disappearing down the street.
Yun Niang also exited the teahouse, and Liaoyuen Fire went to greet her.
“How was it? Was the storytelling good?” he asked, still the courteous husband.
“It was great. You… feeling better? Not unwell, I hope.” As a wife, Yun Niang showed her concern.
“Some fresh air helped.” Liaoyuen Fire replied gently.
They walked home in silence.
Suddenly, Yun Niang asked, “Darling, where do you think Diao Chan went? She disappeared after Dong Zhuo’s death.”
“How would I know? I’m not the storyteller!” Liaoyuen Fire snapped.
Yun Niang froze—she’d never heard him use that tone, especially not to her.
What was wrong with him today? All day distracted at the teahouse, now so irritable over a simple question.
Was it something she’d done? Or had Lü Bu and Diao Chan offended him?
“Let’s go home—it’s late, and Yun’er’s waiting.” Liaoyuen Fire turned away, his tone softer but still awkward.
Yun Niang was a smart woman.
She calmed herself quickly, knowing something was amiss, but she didn’t want to know why.
She understood that to maintain her comfortable life, she must never probe her husband’s true thoughts or concern herself with things that didn’t touch her.
Her husband’s emotions were not her concern or responsibility.
So she smiled, cheerfully saying, “You’re right. It’s not fair to keep Aunt Li watching our child so long. Let’s go!” She quickened her pace.
The couple walked on.
In the windless, moonless night, they finally disappeared together at the far end of the street.
Copyright Notice:
“Burning Dreams: Extra - The Passing of Time”35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhSnD10Cyad
Original work by Jing Xixian (Vampire L), all rights reserved.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZMBA92jowc
No reproduction, adaptation, translation, or commercial use in any form without written authorization from the author.
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