Thicker than Water

Prologue:

"Don't you see it now, Deng? I've finally nailed it down, exactly what I want to create. It will be a fitting piece for what we shall soon celebrate, my friend!"

The lad named Deng was patently unimpressed, as, after a moment of half-listening, he went back to noisily, and one might even venture, angrily slurping his soup. The fellow to his right rambled on for another minute or so, absorbed in his one-sided conversation before coming to a conclusion just as Deng's ears had finally allowed the boy's voice to lapse back into perceptibility, "And so, Deng, you will have the honour of aiding in my endeavours!"

At this, Deng nearly choked, which was quite an accomplishment, considering his mouth was filled by a fluid. After an extended pause to allows his throat to recover, he spluttered out, "Aid!? Endeavour?!? What endeavour?!"

"Why, a book. A tale if you will, maybe even a legend," stated the other adolescent.

"You...You! Of all people, you need me, yes, me to help you read a story!" remarked Deng, quite amused by the suggestion. He added afterwards, "You know, Xun, for a smart fellow like you, you can be quite daft sometimes..."

The older teenager, the one named Xun, was quite flabbergasted himself at what Deng was suggesting and hastily corrected himself, "No, it's not that. We'll be writing a book, not reading one!"

"Oh!" Deng said, finally comprehending...or maybe not, "Oh...Oh? Okay...That's just as ridiculous as the last idea, Xun. I have no love for literature; I fall asleep every time the tutor starts up on the classics and man oh man, have you even seen my calligraphy?"

Xun listened intently, then nodded, "Oh, absolutely! It's horrible...which is why I shall do the writing and you...you shall do the asking." Not giving a pause for Deng to wonder exactly what that meant, he went on into specifics and his preliminary research into the miniscule amount of writing related to the subject, which was no surprised, considering his planned narrative was of the groundbreaking variety.

Deng cut him off, "I know folks around here say you're a brilliant fellow and all, but shouldn't something this big wait until we're older. I mean..."

Xun cut him off, "I know exactly what you mean, Deng, but improving the work into a proper scholastic document can be done later on, by me and whoever wishes to continue with it. But the best sources, the people who lived through all of that, they're not going to be around forever. If there's one thing we learned early on due to the wars, it's that!" Deng could definitely not disagree with his argument, one that had hit close to home, maybe even a bit too close.

Deng's father had died in the said wars ten years prior. He barely remembered the man, being five at the time, but he definitely continued to feel the hole he'd left behind in his life. In that, he was not alone. It was why he and Xun had gotten to be close friends, having no other male relatives. Well, not exactly. There was also their older cousin, but he'd been much harder to talk to after the wars had passed. They had both decided the battlefield had changed him.

He listened intently as Xun resumed, noting that he had deliberately paused right there, just so he could make his point stick. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad a narrative at all. It might even be decent, if Xun kept this up. "For right now, all I want is a great narrative about what has come to pass, as something to celebrate the first year of a peace so dearly bought. Besides, in less than a year, I'll be a full adult, get my style name and all that and I'll have fully earned my father's name and gained my own that will allow this work to become truly respectable, and even valuable. The way I look at it, unless some greater calling comes to me, this could just be my life's work!" Xun finished, explaining his motivation. Deng looked him full in the eye, seeing the cold, shimmering stillness of his brown pupils. His friend was truly serious about this one, and in just a matter of days, such seriousness, if he knew Xun well, became obsession.

Deng nodded, "I see there's no sense trying to argue with you about this. This is going to take a lot of work though-"

"I'm prepared to do whatever it takes, Deng. I need you to be as well."

The youngster Deng thought this over, then agreed, "I will be. But only if you figure out how to talk Lady Qiao into lifting her ban on me taking swordplay lessons until I improve my writing-"

Xun laughed, "Hah! You're such a horrible bargainer, Deng. All I have to do is present my idea to her and she'll agree to lift it just like that, especially if I increase my efforts to tutor you in calligraphy."

"And why would she do that?"

"Simplicity itself," Xun grinned triumphantly, "From my research, I have decided that the best man to have as my primary source is none other than your swordplay instructor, and the most convenient way for us to discuss matters with him is right after your lessons."

"I see...So, you'll be there at my next one and we'll ask-"

"No. You'll ask," Xun interjected.

"Why?"

Xun sighed, "You know what happens when I do. That's why I need you." Deng grinned, shaking his head. Everyone agreed that his friend was the shyest person in the palace. He had been getting better at conversation as he grew up, but was still not quite there yet. In fact, he only knew three people alive who he would talk openly to: his mom, the aforementioned cousin, and Deng himself.

Deng decided to summarize their task, "Alright, so you're writing an entire story based on all the stuff he tells us?"

"Yes, that's about the size of it." Xun declared excitedly.

Deng chuckled, "Well, I guess I'll see you at my lessons on war now. By the way, why him? Why General Zhou?"

"Why not?"