Several days later, the imperial court completed its proceedings.
More than a thousand people involved in the rebellion were taken to Beimang Mountain and executed. When the news spread, the people of Luoyang rushed to witness the scene.
Zhang Xin did not join the crowd.
Only after everyone had dispersed did he quietly go to collect Zhang Fang's body.
When Zhu Jun returned to the capital after mourning and heard of this, he immediately submitted a memorial accusing Zhang Xin:
How could one claim the body of a traitor?
Liu Hong ordered an inquiry.
Zhang Xin responded calmly:
"Zhang Fang was once my subordinate. He was coerced by his master and had no choice but to rebel.Now that he has been executed and his clan wiped out, there is no one left to collect his remains. I cannot bear to leave him so."
After reading the memorial, Liu Hong chose not to pursue the matter further.
Once word spread, Zhang Xin's reputation surged.
In a time when even association with rebels brought disgrace, he had dared to claim a traitor's body. To many, this was no longer just kindness—it was loyalty to his people above all else.
Among the lower-ranking scholars of Luoyang, a sentiment quickly spread:
"I would die for Marquis Xuanwei."
Even Yuan Shao took notice and sent a letter to establish contact.
Zhang Xin read it with a faint smile and replied politely.
At this time, Yuan Shao was still a widely admired figure among scholars, surrounded by famous names. His outreach signaled that Zhang Xin had finally entered the ranks of recognized figures within the literati world.
But fame brought trouble.
Visitors flooded his residence daily—far more than before. Some sought connections, others positions, and many simply wished to associate themselves with his rising name.
Seeing the growing pile of visiting cards, Zhang Xin felt a headache coming on.
"Tell them I am grieving Zhang Fang's death and will not receive guests," he ordered.
Dian Wei carried out the instruction.
Ironically, this only elevated Zhang Xin's reputation further.
To outsiders, it appeared that he was so deeply loyal to even a fallen subordinate that he could not bring himself to entertain guests.
Benevolent. Righteous. Uncompromising.
His image only grew stronger.
After the matter settled, Zhang Xin deliberately kept a low profile, staying inside his residence as much as possible to avoid being entangled by endless visitors.
By the end of September, however, someone important arrived.
Zhang Xin personally went outside the city to receive them. When he saw the leading figure, his eyes lit up with surprise.
"Boping! What brings you here?"
It was Gao Shun.
Gao Shun gave a rare faint smile.
"After hearing of your situation, I felt indignant. Since others have resigned to follow you, I could not fall behind. I have also resigned and come to serve you."
Zhang Xin burst into laughter.
"With Boping here, how could I not be delighted?"
Behind him stood a young figure—Wang Meng.
"Ah-Meng has grown," Zhang Xin said with satisfaction.
The boy, now thirteen, had grown strong and sharp-eyed from training. He bowed deeply, filled with gratitude.
Zhang Xin smiled and waved him up.
"Enough of this, let's go home."
But in his excitement, Zhang Xin forgot something important.
Very important.
Back at the residence, Gao Shun gently reminded him:
"My lord… Madam and the young master."
Zhang Xin froze.
Then slapped his forehead.
"I forgot!"
Meanwhile, Liu Hua had already stepped out of the carriage, looking at the grand residence before her with a mix of awe and quiet joy.
The young man she once knew—the former Yellow Turban—had truly risen.
Elsewhere, in the Southern Palace, Liu Hong was inspecting horses when Zhang Rang approached and whispered:
"Your Majesty, Marquis Xuanwei's family has arrived."