Omen

Year 189, Luoyang, Zhuque Avenue, Drunken Immortal Pavilion.

“Sigh, Mother is indeed... fierce,” Yuan Xi reflected with some emotion, taking a sip of wine to calm his nerves—he had endured many beatings in the past. Lady Liu was a formidable presence, even Yuan Shao feared her; she carried the spirit of Empress Lü.

Of course, overall, Lady Liu treated Yuan Xi quite well.

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The year 176 AD, Luoyang, Yuan family estate.

Lady Liu gazed wearily at the infant in her arms—a boy who had just been born. After a few loud cries, the baby’s expression became vacant and dazed. His eyes were cloudy, lacking the innocence typical of a child. But that did not matter.

A gentle smile of maternal affection rested on Lady Liu’s still graceful face.

She seemed oblivious to the anomaly in her son, simply holding him tenderly. Little Yuan Xi appeared to sense his mother’s love. The unease in his eyes slowly faded, and then, as if exhausted by too much thought, he fell soundly asleep in her embrace.

What Lady Liu did not know was that within her son’s body, an unfamiliar soul from another realm had taken residence.

Yuan Xi himself had no idea why he found himself in such a deeply traditional world, his mind filled with vague, half-remembered memories. Perhaps his previous life was but a fleeting dream—who could say?

The profound bond of blood between mother and child at birth made him feel the reality of this world.

Zhuangzi once dreamed he was a butterfly—who, then, was the true self?

With Yuan Xi’s birth, the entire Yuan household became lively.

“It’s a boy, a chubby little one! Quickly notify the young master.”

Soon, Yuan Wei and others arrived in the inner chamber.

To everyone’s surprise, the infant in Liu Yu’s arms did not cry; instead, he chuckled repeatedly, unafraid of strangers.

“Congratulations, congratulations! This young master will surely be extraordinary.”

“Hahaha, then I shall borrow your auspicious words,” Yuan Wei laughed heartily, promising good fortune.

“As expected of my son, Yuan Benchu’s child, he really does resemble me—and of course, my wife as well,” Yuan Shao said happily, gazing at little Yuan Xi in Liu Yu’s arms.

He suddenly changed his tone—prompted by Liu Yu casting him a sharp glance.

“Dear in-laws, what shall we name this child?”

Yuan Wei entrusted the right to name the boy to the patriarch.

“I think we shall call him Yuan Xi,” the elder said with satisfaction. “I hope he lives a safe and happy life—that is my greatest wish.”

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“Very well, it’s settled,” Yuan Wei declared.

At that moment, little Yuan Xi opened his eyes wide.

A faint, ethereal purple glow shimmered, and his small mouth emitted soft chuckles, as if pleased with his name.

This adorable sight caused everyone present to burst into laughter, even the usually stern Old Luo cracked a slight smile.

“Hahaha! Truly the family’s little lucky star!”

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The day after Yuan Xi’s birth.

Two elder masters gathered in the study, mysteriously discussing something.

The time of Yuan Xi’s birth and the unusual circumstances afterwards sowed doubt in their hearts. They also felt a strange premonition.

At that moment, the door opened gently, and Old Luo entered.

“How is it, Old Luo? Any unusual signs?”

Yuan Wei eagerly asked, hoping to hear something from Old Luo’s mouth.

Something like “Purple aura coming from the east” or “The Big Dipper stars converge.”

After all, the elders hoped their grandson was born extraordinary.

Old Luo looked at them and replied lightly, “Nothing yet. But those sent to investigate will return soon—news will come shortly.”

Fifteen minutes later, a messenger arrived to report, “Congratulations, sirs. At the time of the young master’s birth, a phoenix appeared near Mang Mountain.”

Old Liu, holding a wine cup, heard this and immediately dropped his cup to the floor, a chill running down his spine.

Everyone knew that the only other great figure associated with a phoenix’s appearance was His Majesty, Emperor Guangwu of the Eastern Han dynasty. “How can this be possible?”

After a moment, another person rushed in excitedly, “Good news! Good news! At the moment of the young master’s birth, a flood dragon appeared on the northern bank of the Luo River!”

Yuan Wei’s forehead broke out in cold sweat.

They understood well: if one was not from the imperial family, any signs of dragons and phoenixes could lead to beheading. This was no joke.

Just then, a third person entered, beaming, “Great news! Truly great news! At the time of the young master’s birth, the Buddha statue in Baima Temple sighed through the night. Perhaps the young master is a reincarnated immortal—congratulations!”

The two elders exchanged glances, a mixture of joy and worry.

Later speculation suggested this might have been a staged event by the Yuan family themselves, meant to legitimize their usurpation and mask their villainy.

Old Liu paused, then suddenly smiled, “Dear in-laws, I think there’s no need to worry. Since Master Zuo said before leaving to just let things be, then let’s do just that. Besides, with the strength of our two families, who would dare threaten young Yuan Xi? Right?”

Upon hearing this, Yuan Wei suddenly understood.

He knew full well Master Zuo’s abilities—his semi-divine mastery of fate divination—and if even he was unconcerned, then there was no need for them to fret.

Later, when Master Zuo returned, he said that young Yuan Xi bore the signs of a dragon’s visage, dragon eyes, phoenix neck—the visage of Fuxi himself, a supreme noble. Yuan Xi, growing older, thought he was a charlatan.

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Moreover, on Yuan Xi’s first birthday, a Taoist priest named Feng told Yuan Shao similar words. But that was a story for later.

What they did not know was that the extraordinary omens surrounding Yuan Xi’s birth eventually reached the ears of the Eastern Han imperial family. To protect Yuan Xi, the Yuan family, the Liu family, and the imperial house forged a secret pact—historians debate the details.

However, in the year following Yuan Xi’s birth, his maternal grandfather, Old Liu, suddenly died, and the Liu lineage quietly vanished, expelled from the clan as if it never existed.

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Yuan Xi was the second son of Yuan Shao, Duke Wu, the founding emperor of Jin.

With his prodigious memory and keen intellect, by the age of five he could recite the entire Analects.

He was comparable to Kong Rong and his contemporary Yang Xiu—though the prodigy Zhou Yu was in a league of his own.

Even in this illustrious family boasting four generations of prime ministers, little Yuan Xi was beloved by all.

Among the top scions like Ye Wudao, Yuan Xi received the same treatment and displayed the same talents—charming, wise, cunning, ruthless, and audacious.

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Hu Zhao, courtesy name Kongming, was invited by Yuan Wei to become Yuan Xi’s first tutor and instructor.

He taught classics such as the I Ching, Analects, Tao Te Ching, and Shuoyuan,

as well as Han Feizi, Sun Tzu’s Art of War, and the History of Han.

A family as noble as the Yuans took their children’s education seriously.

After all, to shine in public inevitably meant enduring hardship in private.

Energy in the world is conserved; it favors no one.

Later, after completing Yuan Xi’s education, Hu Zhao chose to retire in the He Nei region.

Though not widely known, there he took in a disciple named Sima Yi.

In later years, Yuan Xi’s employment of Sima Yi might have stemmed from this connection—they were, in a sense, senior and junior brothers in the same school of thought, both equally scheming.

Truly, if you’re not family, you don’t enter the same door. The ancients did not deceive me.

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