Zhong Jin and his brother Zhong Shen blocked Zhao Yun’s path, swords drawn. Zhao Yun lunged with his spear just as Zhong Jin swung a great battle‐axe. Their horses crashed together; in less than three thrusts, Zhao Yun’s spear felled Zhong Jin, who tumbled to the ground, and the axe‐bearer fled. Behind him, Zhong Shen charged with his halberd, the blade brushing Zhao Yun’s back like a ghostly shadow. Urgently Zhao Yun turned his horse, catching the halberd between spear and body, then drew his Green Dragon Crescent Blade and cleaved downwards—armor, helmet, and skull split in half. Zhong Shen fell dead; his troops scattered. Unharmed, Zhao Yun pressed on to Changban Bridge—only to hear Wen Ping’s war cries behind him. Arriving at the bridge, he found himself exhausted. There on the planks stood Zhang Fei, bristling with fury: his eyes wide, his Snake‐Spear leveled at the enemy. Zhao Yun called out, “Brother Yide—save me!” Zhang Fei dropped his spear point and roared, “Ride on, Zi‐long—I’ll hold them off!”
Zhao Yun swiftly cantered across the bridge. Twenty miles later he came upon Liu Bei and the others resting under a tree. He dismounted, fell to his knees, and wept. Liu Bei wept with him. Gasping for breath, Zhao Yun said, “My guilt merits ten thousand deaths! Lady Mi was wounded and refused to ride; she threw herself into a well. I covered her with earth and fled with Your Highness in my arms, breaking through the enemy lines. By Heaven’s mercy I escaped. When I looked down just now, the boy was still crying—I feared I could not keep him safe.” He untied the swaddling cloth—and there lay Liu Shan asleep and unharmed. Zhao Yun sighed with relief and offered the child to Liu Bei. Liu Bei caught the boy and, startled, threw him aside: “You nearly lost my greatest general for the sake of this babe!” Zhao Yun knelt, tears streaming, “Even if my body were torn to pieces, it could never repay my debt!” Later poets would write:
“From Cao’s host the tiger broke free— In his arms the little dragon slept. How could he soothe his loyal heart? He cast the child before his steed.”
Meanwhile, Wen Ping led his troops in pursuit to Changban Bridge. There he saw Zhang Fei bristling like a great tiger, and the dust rising in the woods east of the bridge—sure signs of an ambush. Fearful, he halted and sent urgent reports back to Cao Cao. When the Chancellor heard, he rode out to investigate. Zhang Fei, spotting Cao Cao’s silver parasol among the vanguard, bellowed: “I am Zhang Yide of the Yanyi clan! Who dares stand against me in single combat?” His voice shook the earth; Cao Cao’s army trembled in place. Alarmed, Cao Cao ordered the parasol taken down and warned his officers: “Zhang Yide once boasted that in a million‐man army he could seize a general’s head as easily as reaching into a pouch. Now that I meet him, we must not underestimate his might.” Before his words had ended, Zhang Fei cried again, “I am Zhang Yide—who dares fight me?” Terrified, Cao Cao’s aide Xiahou Jie fell from his saddle, mortally stricken. The Chancellor wheeled his horse and fled. His host followed in panicked retreat, trampling one another. As a later couplet would recall:
“Children’s ears cannot bear thunder’s roar; Sick woodcutters cannot hear the tiger’s growl. Helm and spear lie abandoned in the grass; Men flood back like waves, horses crash like avalanches.”
A later ode praised Zhang Fei:
“At Changban Bridge his fury rose, Spear leveled, eyes wide in glaring rage— One cry like thunder shook Cao’s host, One man sent a million men to flight.”
Cao Cao, fearing Zhang Fei’s wrath, galloped westward, his cap and ribbons streaming behind him. Zhang Liao and Xu Chu caught up and seized his reins. Zhang Liao called out, “My lord, do not fear! Zhang Yide is but one man—once we regroup, we will crush Liu Bei.” Cao Cao recovered his composure and ordered the scouts Zhang Liao and Xu Chu back to Changban Bridge to scout the enemy’s movements.
Zhang Fei, seeing that no one dared follow, recalled his twenty horsemen, cut the leafy branches from their tails, and had his soldiers dismantle the bridge. Then he rode back to Liu Bei and reported: “The bridge lies broken.” Liu Bei chastised him: “Your courage is unmatched—but you failed to consider the enemy’s cunning.” Zhang Fei asked why. Liu Bei replied, “Cao Cao is a master strategist. Had you left the bridge intact, he would not have dared advance—he would have suspected an ambush. Now that the bridge is down, he may think your force is too small to pursue. Yet he commands a million men and can cross rivers in a hundred places—he fears no single bridge.” With that, Liu Bei mounted and turned onto a small road toward Hanford.
Cao Cao’s scouts returned to Fan: “Zhang Fei broke the bridge and fled.” Cao Cao judged them cowards and ordered a detachment of ten thousand to build three pontoon bridges under cover of night and cross immediately. Li Dian warned, “This surely is another of Zhuge Liang’s feints—do not be hasty.” Cao Cao retorted, “Do you think Zhang Fei can trick me? He is a brave fool, not a strategist!” And he pressed his men to hurry.
Meanwhile Liu Bei, pressing on toward Hanford, heard dust clouds and drums behind him. Alarmed, he turned to Zhuge Liang: “How shall we meet them?” The Master said, “Send Guan Yu to Jiangxia—summon Liu Qi’s army by boat.” Liu Bei at once wrote dispatches and sent Guan Yu and Sun Qian with five hundred men to Jiangxia. He put Zhang Fei on rear‐guard duty, Zhao Yun to protect the civilians, and charged the rest with guiding the refugees—no more than ten miles each day.
At Fan, Cao Cao crossed the river to Xiangyang and summoned Liu Cong. Terrified, Liu Cong hesitated. Cai Mao and Zhang Yun urged him on, and he knelt before Cao Cao, pledging allegiance. The Chancellor inquired after Jingzhou’s strength; Liu Cong boasted of twenty‐eight divisions of infantry and cavalry, and seven thousand naval vessels under Cai Mao and Zhang Yun’s command. Impressed, Cao Cao ennobled them “Marquis Who Pacifies the South” and “Blessed Marquis”; he named Liu Cong Inspector of Qingzhou, to depart at once for the court. Though Liu Cong pleaded to stay, Cao Cao insisted.
Only Wang Wei, who had served Liu Cong’s father, followed them to the riverbank. The others returned home. Cao Cao then ordered Yu Jin to pursue and eliminate Liu Cong and his mother to prevent future treachery. At a lonely ford, Yu Jin’s cavalry overtook them: the mother and son fell under his swords. Yu Jin returned with their severed heads and was richly rewarded.
Angered at Zhuge Liang’s escape, Cao Cao sent men to scour the Three Gorges—only to find the Master’s family had long since been concealed. Infuriated, he cried, “This is but the beginning!”
Xiangyang secured, Xun You urged, “Jiangling holds the granaries and the key to Jingzhou. If Liu Bei seizes it, no force can dislodge him.” Cao Cao nodded and appointed Wen Ping—who, ashamed of his earlier failures, had wept before the Chancellor—to lead the vanguard southward.
Meanwhile, Liu Bei marched with tens of thousands of civilians and three thousand guards toward Jiangling—Zhang Fei in the rear, Zhao Yun with the vulnerable. Zhuge Liang fretted, “Guan Yu has gone; what if he does not return?” Liu Bei said, “Let me fetch him.” The Master shook his head: “Send me.” Liu Bei consented. That afternoon, Liu Bei, Mi Zhou, Mi Fang, and Jian Yong pressed on; dusk brought a fierce wind that raised a dust storm blurring the sun. Jian Yong, versed in omens, warned, “Tonight portends disaster. We should abandon the civilians and flee.” Liu Bei refused: “How could I bear to forsake those who follow me?” Jian Yong replied, “If you cling to them, ruin will come.” Liu Bei asked, “Where are we?” “Near Dangyang County, at Mount Jing,” they answered. He ordered camp pitched on that hill.
At the fourth watch, drums sounded from the northwest—an approaching army. Liu Bei, alarmed, summoned two thousand of his best men. The enemy crashed down upon them like a flood, and Liu Bei fought desperately. As all seemed lost, Zhang Fei’s forces burst from the woods, cutting a bloody path and saving Liu Bei. Wen Ping tried to block their retreat, but Liu Bei cursed, “Traitor! How dare you stand against me?” Wen Ping hung his head in shame and slipped away. Zhang Fei escorted Liu Bei onward; by dawn they found themselves surrounded by only a hundred horsemen. The civilians, Mi Zhu, Mi Fang, Jian Yong, Zhao Yun, and the rest had vanished. Liu Bei wept, “These countless souls followed me only to face calamity. My generals and family are lost—my heart breaks!”
At that moment Mi Fang appeared, arrow‐wounded, panting: “Zhao Yun has surrendered to Cao Cao!” Zhang Fei roared, “He is my sworn brother—how could he betray us?” Liu Bei defended, “Zhao Yun’s loyalty is iron—he would never forsake us.” Mi Fang insisted, “I saw him ride north.” Zhang Fei, furious, gathered twenty horsemen and rode to Changban Bridge, vowing to kill Zhao Yun on sight. He ordered his men to lash tree branches to their horses’ tails and kick up dust as a feint. He himself stood on the bridge with his spear, scanning the road.
Meanwhile Zhao Yun, having fought since the fourth watch, killed his way through until dawn but found neither Liu Bei nor the civilians. He thought, “My master entrusted Lady Gan and the boy to me—I must find them or die.” Only thirty men remained. He charged through the chaos, questioning every refugee. At length he found Jian Yong, wounded and collapsed. Zhao Yun borrowed his horse and urged him to return with news: “I will find Lady Gan and the boy or perish in the attempt!” Jian Yong rode off; Zhao Yun spurred on.
He soon came upon a group of terrified refugees. “Is Lady Gan here?” he called. They pointed ahead to a ruined mud wall—their home consumed by fire. There sat Lady Gan, barefoot and weeping, clutching little Liu Shan. Zhao Yun flung himself to the ground in salute. Tearfully she begged, “Save this child—he alone is left of our house. I am but a burden; let me die here.” Zhao Yun pressed her to mount his horse, but she refused, and soldiers charged in. Fearing for her life, Zhao Yun cried, “Madam, if you delay, there will be no one to bury you!” With that she handed him the child, laid him on his saddle, and flung herself into the dry well. Zhao Yun covered her body, strapped on his helm, gathered the boy, and rode on alone.
He met Chunyu Dao—Cao Ren’s officer—and slew him with a single thrust, seizing his horse. Then he encountered Yan Ming and but a few soldiers—and cut them down. Next came Zhang He, wielding his spear. In ten furious exchanges, Zhao Yun forced Zhang He to give ground, then spurred eastward. At that moment Cao Cao, watching from Mount Jing, called out, “Who is that?” Cao Hong cried, “It is General Zhao Yun of Changshan!” Cao Cao ordered, “Do not shoot him—bring him in alive.” And so Zhao Yun escaped. His legend was sealed: he had broken four encirclements, rescued his master’s heir, and felled fifty of Cao’s champions. A later poem rang out:
“Crimson‐soaked, his armor stained, Who else at Changban could match his might? Charging through foes, he saves the lord’s son— Only Zhao of Changshan bears such fame.”
Yet even now he rode alone through peril—and what fate awaited him next? That is the story for the next chapter.
