After learning where the child was, Zhang Xin headed first to the study.
"Heaven and earth were dark and yellow, the universe vast and boundless…"
A clear, childish voice echoed through the room.
Zhang Ping sat upright at his desk, earnestly reading from the Thousand Character Classic, a version compiled by Zhang Xin and Cai Yong. Beside him, Zhuge Jin patiently guided him, teaching him to recognize characters.
At another desk nearby, a handsome young boy was immersed in reading the Analects of Confucius.
When Zhang Ping had first entered the palace, he was not yet three—far too young for formal education. Liu Xie, on the other hand, had already been seven.
Naturally, what a seven-year-old studied was far beyond what a toddler could grasp.
Moreover, though Zhang Ping had been nominally a study companion, in reality he was a hostage. Liu Hong had never assigned him a proper tutor.
After examining the situation, Zhang Xin realized the child had learned almost nothing in the palace. He immediately arranged for Zhuge Jin to teach him basic literacy.
Though Zhuge Jin was still young, he was more than capable of teaching characters.
After all—this was how children of secondary status were often raised.
Zhang Xin stepped into the study.
Zhuge Jin noticed him first and quickly rose."Greetings, Your Excellency."
Zhang Ping followed, bowing."Greetings, Father."
The young man reading nearby also stood and saluted.
"No need for formalities."
Zhang Xin turned to Zhuge Jin. "How is his progress?"
Zhuge Jin smiled. "The young master is intelligent—he learns very quickly."
"Father! I learned ten new characters today!" Zhang Ping said proudly.
"Impressive," Zhang Xin replied with a nod.
The boy beamed.
Zhang Xin asked a few more questions—whether he behaved well, whether he caused trouble.
Zhuge Jin shook his head. "The young master is very well-mannered. Never mischievous."
Zhang Xin nodded in satisfaction.
Given the strict discipline of palace life, it made sense. Nearly two years under such rules would naturally shape a child's conduct.
He gestured for them to continue studying, then turned his attention to the other boy.
"A-Liang, have you encountered any difficulties lately?"
"I have," the boy admitted, scratching his head. "Please enlighten me, Your Excellency."
"What troubles you?"
Zhang Xin stepped closer, confident and composed.
The boy was none other than Zhuge Liang.
After the Zhuge family had arrived, Zhang Xin appointed Zhuge Jin to a position within his household.
But he had no intention of overlooking Zhuge Liang.
At this age, a child's character and intellect were at their most malleable. This was the best time to nurture him.
Zhang Xin granted the brothers free access to his study, allowing them to read freely.
Over the years, he had accumulated a considerable collection of books—many from Cai Yong, others from Huangfu Song, and still more confiscated from powerful families in Qingzhou.
Though not vast, the collection was rich and practical.
Zhuge Liang had been captivated from the moment he saw it.
Of course, even a brilliant nine-year-old could not understand everything.
That was where Zhang Xin came in.
With experience spanning military command, court politics, and local governance—and with a breadth of knowledge far beyond his time—he was more than capable of guiding the boy.
Zhuge Liang eagerly seized the opportunity, asking question after question.
Zhang Xin answered each one patiently, using vivid examples and simple explanations.
Time passed quickly.
At last, Zhuge Liang stood and bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your guidance, my lord. My doubts are resolved."
Zhang Xin smiled and patted his head.
"A-Liang is gifted. In time, you will surely accomplish great things."
"I will remember your teachings."
After leaving the study, Zhang Xin made a round of the children's quarters.
Zhang Ping was older now, and Zhang An still remembered him.
The other two, however, had been only a month old when Zhang Xin left for Qingzhou—they had no memory of him at all.
Naturally, after a brief encounter—
They burst into tears.
Under the sharp glares of Wang Jiao and Han Shu, Zhang Xin awkwardly withdrew and headed to the main hall, ordering Hua Tuo to be summoned.
When Liu Hong had fallen ill, Zhang Xin had sent men to find Hua Tuo.
They found him—but before reaching Luoyang, the emperor had already died.
The former Yellow Turban followers who had been sent were unsure what to do, so they brought Hua Tuo all the way to Qingzhou—bound and under guard.
When Hua Tuo saw Zhang Xin, he immediately began cursing.
"You brute! You villain!"
Zhang Xin was deeply embarrassed.
After all… the order to tie him up had come from him.
One of the former rebels stepped forward to take the blame, but Zhang Xin reprimanded them harshly anyway—then compensated them generously.
The matter settled, he personally apologized to Hua Tuo, showing utmost humility.
Gradually, Hua Tuo's anger softened.
Zhang Xin then made his move—inviting him to serve as Chief Clerk in the General's office.
Hua Tuo's situation was complicated.
He had once studied the classics and gained early fame. Officials had recommended him for office—but he declined, choosing instead to pursue medicine.
And later… he regretted it.
In the Eastern Han, medicine was considered a lowly profession.
Though he saved countless lives, scholars often looked down on him—treating him as someone to summon when needed, dismiss when not.
Zhang Xin understood this well.
"A single physician can only save so many," he said. "But if you stay, you can train disciples. Then hundreds—thousands—will benefit from your knowledge."
Hua Tuo hesitated. "Medicine is despised. Without necessity, who would choose this path?"
Zhang Xin smiled.
"Leave that to me. A physician is a second parent to the patient. If you remain, I will one day secure you a noble title."
Hua Tuo's eyes widened.
"How can a physician be granted a marquisate?"
Zhang Xin replied calmly:
"The emperor… is my nephew."
Hua Tuo froze—
then immediately knelt.
"Your Excellency!"