Prologue

Some say happiness is never easily within reach.

Yang Tang disagreed.

He graduated from Chengda University, yet married a wife who was a postdoctoral fellow at Jingda. And it wasn’t even that he pursued her—it was she who pursued him. Yang Tang could only sigh that he’d fallen in love at just the right time, catching the tail end of the literary youth era and brushing up against the dawning age of the internet. With a modest talent for modern poetry, he somehow ended up with a gentle, virtuous wife who would be the mother of his child.

In the winter of 2018, the days leading up to New Year's Eve were particularly cold. Still, his wife insisted on driving to the office every day to oversee things. Yang Tang’s face, now showing hints of middle age, still retained traces of the handsome youth he once was, but he no longer cared about such things. All he wanted was to stay warm at home, write a few drafts, and keep his son company.

His son, Yang Lin, like most boys his age, loved playing games. That day, he was glued to the computer, thoroughly enjoying himself, when he suddenly asked, “Dad, do we have a copy of Romance of the Three Kingdoms at home?”

“We do. Why?”

Muttering, Yang Lin said, “This Three Kingdoms web game is so weird. After I captured Wu Anguo, I managed to persuade him to surrender after three tries. But why can’t I get Kong Rong to surrender, no matter what?”

Curious, Yang Tang asked how he persuaded Wu Anguo. Yang Lin grinned, “Dad, don’t tell me you don’t know this! You’re so behind the times. Of course you use silver—one thousand taels for each attempt. The first time I offered money, Wu Anguo said, ‘You are the leader of the rebel army; how could I surrender to you?’ The second time, he said, ‘A loyal minister does not serve two masters; how could I yield to you?’ But by the third time, his words changed to, ‘It is my great fortune to follow you, sir, and help build an everlasting foundation!’ And that’s how he surrendered.”

Yang Tang couldn’t help but smile. Yang Lin continued, “But Kong Rong just won’t give in. I’ve tried eight times already—spent eight thousand taels—and he still refuses. What’s going on?”

With a slight smile, Yang Tang explained, “Kong Rong is a scholar. Scholars aren’t moved by money; they value integrity. Integrity—do you understand? In internet slang, that’s called ‘moral backbone’!”

But Yang Lin didn’t take his father’s words seriously, still intent on persuading Kong Rong, even converting all his provisions into silver for the task. Yang Tang, unwilling to argue with his son, began searching the bookshelf instead. Stories like “Kong Rong Yielding the Pear” were already familiar to Yang Lin, so there was no need for that. Yang Tang wanted to find books about scholarly integrity, like the tales of Lu Lian diving into the sea or Zhao Guang refusing to paint, planning to give his son a proper lesson later.

While Yang Tang was busy searching, Yang Lin was muttering away at the computer. “What’s going on? Still not working? How many times has it been now? Fifteen? If Kong Rong doesn’t surrender soon, I’ll go broke!”

Yang Lin grew more anxious, but Yang Tang was quietly amused. “Ah, my boy, what use is money? Scholars have faith, they have their integrity!” He thought, clutching the stack of books he’d gathered, ready to begin his lesson.

Just then, his son cheered, “I did it! I spent seventeen thousand taels in total, and on the seventeenth try, Kong Rong finally said, ‘Thanks to your great kindness, sir, and your towering virtue, I am willing to serve you loyally!’”

Yang Tang was stunned. Where had the scholar’s integrity gone? Where was the moral backbone? The books in his arms tumbled to the floor, knocking over a cup on the coffee table in the process.

Not wanting his son to notice his embarrassment, Yang Tang hurried to pick up the books, failing to notice that two of them had gotten wet and were now covering an electrical socket. When he touched them, a jolt of electricity shot through him, sending him sprawling onto the sofa, eyes darkening, drifting off toward unconsciousness.

Even as he fainted, Yang Tang couldn’t help but wonder, “Where’s the integrity? Where did it go?”