Secession

by Red River

COMPLETE. Combination of games and ROTK novel. Zhou Yu is dying, and has one last chance to tell his story to someone before he does. ZYxSC with other pairings on the side.

37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

Warnings: Violence, minor adult content, slash.

Description: The story of Sun Ce and Zhou Yu's past – will eventually be Zhou Yu x Sun Ce, with other pairings mentioned on the side (LM/XQ, DQ/LX, and GN/SSX)

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Secession – Part 36

Silence sifted gently through the wagon on the breath of the dying wind, brushing past Chen Hao's thoughtful face and stealing the meager warmth from the jacket still wrapped around his arms and legs. The soldier sighed quietly, leaning back against the side panel behind him and peering up at their thin roof as Zhou Yu rested momentarily, dropping the thread of his narrative and turning his head away from the weakened light of the salt-spattered sky. For a long moment, the general's exhausted breathing was the only sound in the small structure – then the wheels bumped decisively in a thick rut, landing with the harsh grate of imperfect pieces rubbing together, and Chen Hao sat up.

"Did Lord Sun Ce adopt Yingmei, too?"

Zhou Yu smirked softly to himself, sliding one rough hand across his furrowed forehead as though battling an invisible, interminable headache. "I suppose it depends what you mean by that. Yingmei was officially welcomed into the Sun family, and she was announced as Sun Ce's daughter to our courtiers and the populace of Wu… but he never really accepted the responsibility of being her father." A dark flicker slipped through the general's obsidian eyes, accompanying the silent sigh ghosting past his thin lips in disillusioned harmony. "Of course… he died before she was very old at all. She has no memory of him."

A shiver shot down Chen Hao's spine, chilling him all the way to the end of each nerve. He hadn't meant to direct the conversation back to Sun Ce's death, back to the haunted expectation hanging in the general's dark eyes – but the feeling of muted dread pooling in his stomach told him that it was probably becoming inevitable. The Wu king only had a little over a year to live in the timeline of Zhou Yu's story… perhaps all questions led back to that inescapable destiny, to the looming tragedy preparing to sever any lightness that had persisted throughout the tale thus far. Perhaps there was nothing left to bring that long-dead smile back to the general's face.

Chen Hao shook himself, forcing the unsettling thoughts away and refocusing on the fallen contours of his commander's countenance. Zhou Yu's blank, apathetic eyes stared into the slowly emptying heavens beyond them, locked on the back lip of the wagon as though the distant horizon held the energy he needed to struggle forward. Chen Hao bit his lip, feeling the chapped flesh pulling away beneath his coarse teeth as a short lilt of panic ran through him. He hadn't considered it seriously before – but from the look on the general's tired face, it had become clear that the weave of the endless night was taking its toll on him. His wounds and the unrelenting cold of the vicious wind tore almost visibly into the grim commander's resolve to press onward, stinging in the open wounds that must have covered the general's raw throat by now. Perhaps he'd already lost the strength to finish.

For a long moment, Chen Hao looked away, unnerved and saddened by the despondent clarity in Zhou Yu's onyx eyes where the flame of so many memories had been burning. And then the soldier shook himself again, harder this time, strengthening his intention and digging ten nails into his frigid palms. If the general couldn't find a point of continuation, perhaps he could provide one – a spark that would draw Zhou Yu back into the stream of his narrative despite the fatigue drowning his deep eyes.

"My lord?" The general started, shaking himself slightly as though the distant hands of death or sleep had been pulling him slowly away from his promise to finish. Chen Hao swallowed against the cold breath in his throat, fighting the chill of the wind that danced around him and splayed loose tendrils of his hair over tight shoulders. "What does Yingmei's name mean?"

It was an odd question, even in the soldier's own ears. Zhou Yu blinked a little, his dark eyes settling gradually over the concerned expression on his subordinate's chilled face – he met Chen Hao's stare curiously, as though searching for the train of thought that had inspired the inquiry in the lines of his listener's countenance. Upon finding nothing, the general coughed, one hand lingering at his mouth to hide any trace of the blood that must be lurking just beyond his lips.

"…Shadow beauty." Zhou Yu's index finger traced the characters absently into the bandage on his chest, eyes straying back to the unresponsive canvas ceiling. Chen Hao wondered at the odd name, and he shifted slightly closer to his commander to watch the pale hand moving in literate rhythm over his stark linen dressing. "I believe it comes from the Book of Odes."

It was a dignified, gentle name, and in that way it fit with the image of an adopted daughter being raised so softly in the Wu king's palace – but something about its meaning seemed slightly saddened, as though the shining glory of attraction and loveliness had been somehow dimmed or devalued. The soldier scratched idly at his ear and burrowed deeper into his rejected jacket, hiding his cold face in its equally frozen folds.

"Is she beautiful?"

It was not what he'd intended to ask – truly, he'd wanted to know when the elder Lady Qiao had read the Book of Odes, and which poem the name Yingmei might be from – but the question stole onto his lips without warning and split the voice of the wind circling around them through the night air. Zhou Yu started a little, glancing at the soldier from his motionless position on the floor and watching his inquisitive face skeptically for a long moment. Then the general sighed, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

"Beautiful for a ten-year-old, I suppose."

Chen Hao blinked. Then he felt his face flushing, blood running into the cold cheeks and pushing back against the frosted wind as embarrassment sluiced through his veins. Somehow, despite the fold of the story and how clearly time seemed to move through his commander's words, it hadn't occurred to him how young the Qiao sisters' children would still be. From the dead light in Zhou Yu's eyes, it seemed to the soldier that the last ten years – the ten years after Sun Ce's death, when the general had brought Cao Cao's southern march to an end and given Wu its greatest naval victory – had lasted forever, stretching almost beyond lifetimes in their dull and painful progression. But to someone who had not lost what Zhou Yu had, perhaps those ten years were like any other. And for the children, ten years would be hardly the blink of an eye, moving forever into an unknown future – rather than being dead and ashen, each of those years would brim to overflowing with possibility and promise.

It was all perspective, in a way. Chen Hao shifted a little, tucking his feet closer together as though their proximity might melt the thin coat of ice no doubt slipping beneath his skin as he shook away his dark thoughts to focus on Wu's young heirs. Since Zhou Xuan and Sun Yingmei had been close in age, the younger Lady Qiao's eldest son would be about ten years old as well. But her daughter… Hailing had to be younger than her brother. The soldier's brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to work out the girl's age – but the exercise only gave him a headache, and he turned back to his silent commander as Zhou Yu brushed a strand of hair from his reminiscent eyes.

"My lord… how old is Zhou Hailing?"

The general sighed. "She will be six next summer. But she's prettier than Yingmei even now… which is sensible, I suppose, since she is Xiao Qiao's daughter."

Chen Hao shook his head uncertainly, wisps of hair lurking across his chilled forehead as he pushed the qualifying statement into the back of his mind. Of course she'd have to be very young, but… "She's only five, and she's already married to Lord Sun Quan?"

Zhou Yu cast him a flat glance, his gaze sifting back to the sky beyond them as he rubbed at the ivory bandages on his chest. "She's already engaged to Sun Quan. She won't get married until she's older, of course. I'm sure Sun Quan has no interest in an infant."

The soldier sat back against the side of the wagon without responding, watching the currents of memory and contemplation spinning across Zhou Yu's preoccupied face. It was true that he'd heard of engagements very early, generally as a link between two households. But in this case, he didn't understand why Zhou Hailing had been promised to the lord of Wu at such a young age. Weren't the general and his wife already inextricably connected to the Sun family, through bonds much stronger than a political marriage?

Zhou Yu had said the younger Lady Qiao wished her daughter to marry Sun Quan, and in a way that did make sense – what better marriage could there be for a girl of Hailing's status, especially when her mother and her betrothed were childhood friends? But in another way, Chen Hao wondered whether Lady Qiao wouldn't be opposed to an arranged marriage for her children – wouldn't she want Hailing to have the freedom of choice that she herself had been given on accident? Or had she forgotten the power she'd inadvertently been granted in the many years since her own marriage?

There were no answers to his questions, and the hoarse cough breaking free of Zhou Yu's parched lips announced the general's intention to continue. As the legendary strategist's eyes darkened, flickering with thought and preparation, the soldier could feel their wagon beginning to tilt upward, and the drag on the back wheels hinted that a ridge had presented their next obstacle. Chen Hao settled carefully against the rough-hewn wood of the side behind him, shifting into a somewhat comfortable position as his commander cleared his throat once more and found his voice. Somewhere deep in the soldier's ribs, a tiny spark of pride stirred at the thought of having rekindled Zhou Yu's ability to convey his tale – the stinging night wind and the stream of the general's words brought that tiny flare to a full blaze, and for a moment Chen Hao didn't feel quite so cold.

"That spring, Sun Ce and I traveled south to assist Taishi Ci along the southern border of Wu. We were not there very long, however, before Han Dang called us back to Qingshan, which was serving as a temporary capital while Xuancheng was rebuilt." The soldier's mind spun for an instant with the influx of names, and he traced the location of Qingshan on his palm to remind himself of the great city's position in the conquered territory. Taishi Ci's last holdout before joining the Wu king in his quest for dominance… "A messenger heading for the capital had been captured along the Yangzi near Kuaiji, and Han Dang wanted Sun Ce's advice on how to handle the perilous situation we'd been put in."

Chen Hao wondered idly to himself, recalling other tales and histories he had heard, why messengers were always getting intercepted on their way back and forth between errands. Were they truly that easy to recognize? And how could one tell if a messenger held information that needed to be intercepted? But his interest in the reminiscent tension lacing through Zhou Yu's weak voice was more captivating than either question, and the soldier leaned forward to see his commander's expression more clearly. "What kind of situation, my lord?"

The general rubbed his forehead, chasing the ghost of anxiety from his temples. "The prefect of Wucheng – near Fengqiao, if that matters to you – was a man named Xu Gong. He opposed Sun Ce's rule when we first conquered that portion of the Wu Territory, and after Grand Duke Cao's offer of an imperial title was refused, Xu Gong found an opening for his opinion in court. The letter we intercepted, addressed to Cao Cao, recommended that Sun Ce be called to the capital in a false commemoration of his achievements – and that while there, he be executed to ensure the safety of private estates in Wu."

Chen Hao's heart skipped at the mention of an execution – but Zhou Yu did not seem particularly agitated, so the soldier let it go and sunk back against the side of the wagon. In a way, he couldn't help it – the general's story had brought him so close to Sun Ce that he could almost feel the light of that radiant, determined smile despite the cold of the night around them. And eventually, it had to be cut down. It was dread for that moment of complete darkness that filled Chen Hao's stomach even now, when he knew nothing awful could happen to Sun Ce for a short while longer. How could he help worrying, when the thread of broken destiny was crawling closer with every tired breath leaking from Zhou Yu's lips?

The general coughed shortly, his expression twisting in a wince that the thin light barely illuminated as he shook his head. "Of course, the messenger was dead even before Sun Ce and I reached Qingshan – Han Dang tended to be a bit ruthless when it came to eliminating security threats." Chen Hao felt a shiver go down his back at the mention of his own company commander, and he wondered what exactly eliminating security threats meant – but there was no time to dwell on it, because Zhou Yu had pressed forward with only a slight, choking recess.

"For a while, we struggled with a delicate way to handle the situation – but there was no choice other than immediate action. If Xu Gong received no reply to his suggestion, he would surely send another messenger north, and there was no way of being certain this second letter could be intercepted. Ignoring an imperial edict to come to the capital might give Duke Cao an opening to attack Wu, which was hardly something our army was prepared to deal with after the hard winter and our struggles with Liu Xun. And those things aside, it was dangerous to leave a traitor like Xu Gong at large in Sun Ce's territory." The soldier shifted, locking both arms more tightly around his frostbitten legs.

"What did you do?"

Zhou Yu's eyes had gone cold and hard, flickering like black glass in the weak light of the stars. He shrugged almost too easily. "We did the only thing possible, under the circumstances. Xu Gong was called to Qingshan on false reports of a promotion, and then he was executed."

Chen Hao jumped a little at the callous tone of the general's voice, mildly surprised by the blunt answer. It wasn't that executions for treachery were uncommon, or even that the soldier was opposed to killing in such a manner if circumstances demanded it – and in a way, Zhou Yu's rationalization made sense. But somehow a cold-blooded execution didn't match Sun Ce's style – especially not grounded on a foundation of trickery. It seemed as though the Wu king would have wanted to face Xu Gong in an even match, to beat him fairly on an equal field of combat. Something about the truncated explanation made Chen Hao wonder if the general might have had more to do with the elimination of his lord's enemy than he was admitting – had Zhou Yu and Han Dang killed Xu Gong themselves, possibly without consulting Sun Ce at all? His commander's stoic expression told him nothing.

"Wucheng had always been a difficult region to control." The fatigued baritone voice cut off any further musings, and the soldier was forced to dismiss his suspicious curiosity as he refocused on Zhou Yu's words. "Xu Gong formally submitted to Sun Ce when we conquered Fengqiao, but he was disobedient whenever he could get away with it and always troublesome about turning over his tax revenue. In truth, it was only a matter of time until we were obliged to—"

Completely without warning, the wagon gave a sudden, trembling lurch – Chen Hao gasped as the wheels slid backward slightly down the hill, catching the vehicle just at the peak of the ridge they'd been climbing. He could feel the back wheels hovering slightly off of the ground behind him, supporting no weight and threatening to drag the entire vehicle back the way it had come. The wagon tipped one way, then the other, shifting its weight as the horses struggled to pull their cart down the obviously underestimated slope and the drivers cursed heavily at their taut reins. The moment hung suspended like tentative breath in Chen Hao's lungs as he met his commander's eyes – the onyx gaze had gone wide with surprise and uncertainty, almost brighter for the light of awakened perplexity encompassing his features. The soldier found his voice only with great effort, and his tone remained weak and struggling despite his shout toward the front of the wagon.

"What's wrong?"

There was a trembling swing in the position of the structure as one driver shifted, his form just visible under the exhausted night sky. Chen Hao flinched. Zhou Yu took a sharp breath and let it slip through his teeth. Then an equally shaky voice called back to them, scarcely audible over the creaking wood and the whickering horses.

"I'm not sure we can go down this side, Chen. It's a lot steeper than we thought, and with this river at the bottom…"

Chen Hao closed his eyes, a little flurry of fear sliding through his stomach. He didn't remember this hill from the march toward Jing – but it had been a long way, and the details of the landscape were lost in a haze of fractured, tense memories. For the life of him, he couldn't think of a response – fear slipped into his veins and held him hostage under its tight fingers. Never before this journey had he realized how many ways there were to die, and how narrowly they were avoided at each turn.

What if they crashed at the bottom of the hill? What if the wagon overturned? What if they fell into the river? What could they do? He tried to call on his courage – the courage inherent in any soldier of Wu, the courage Sun Ce had shown so many times in the course of his strategist's story – but only shame and haunting panic answered his summons.

The second driver cocked his head back and looked at them, raven eyes just visible in the shadows of his face. Chen Hao could see his teeth sinking fiercely into his bottom lip, no doubt holding his apprehension at bay with the force of bravado alone as he struggled to remain firm. "We're going to have to give this a try. You and Lord Zhou Yu just hold on, all right? We'll go down here real slowly, and we'll try not to hit the river too hard." The anxious soldier swallowed and nodded at his comrade, glance flickering to Zhou Yu's silent form on the floor beside him. The general's expression was as blank as ever, but his lips were pressed into a firm line and there was no denying the undercurrent of concern in his eyes.

The first driver fingered his reins fretfully and glanced at his companion, and the second man kicked his feet against the wheel hub – and nothing moved. It took Chen Hao a long moment to realize they were waiting for confirmation. The infantrymen ahead of him lacked the resolve to continue without orders of approval – to trust their own desperate solution in a case where there wasn't exactly a right answer. Zhou Yu shifted silently over the floor boards and found the side of the wagon, five fingers lightly shaking with effort as they gripped into the warped wooden panels. The general sighed and closed his eyes.

"Well… go."

It defied understanding. Zhou Yu's voice had become so soft and unsteady as the night drew on that it was almost inaudible even to Chen Hao. But somehow his words still snapped the men before them into focus, straightening their backs and tipping their chins to attention as the first man found his reins and the second hunched into the night. Chen Hao scrambled to brace himself against the front seat, leaning back into the wooden panel and keeping his eyes on the general's unruffled countenance as the sound of flicking leather snipped through the wagon. The soldier shook his head silently. It didn't really make sense – Zhou Yu was dying, and his hand where it clutched the side for support was trembling so hard it seemed a wonder he could hold on at all. And despite that, his voice renewed the will to action in all three of his subordinates and tipped the wagon forward.

With a slow, reluctant creak, the vehicle pivoted on its precariously suspended wheels and inched downward into the east-facing slope of the ridge. Chen Hao felt his heart lurch into his throat at the maneuver, adrenaline shooting through each nerve bundle in turn as the wood behind him tilted sickeningly, gravity dragging him to an uncomfortable angle and tightening Zhou Yu's fingers on the wagon's side. For a moment, everything hung in uncertain balance – panic dropped like a stone into the soldier's gut as he found himself unwilling and unable to breathe, afraid of the disturbance his miniscule motion might cause. Then the horses whinnied indecisively and their hooves gradually settled into a harsh clopping tread, plodding down the slope as slowly as possible. Chen Hao bit his tongue hard as the back wheels hit the ground on the other side of the slope, no longer suspended in midair but adding their bulk to the nearly irresistible downward force that tugged on the wagon's head like the hands of death itself.

The soldier took a deep breath to steady himself, holding the frigid air inside his lungs a moment longer than necessary as if he could draw reassurance from the wind circling like a vulture over their descent. He could see the drivers' rigid postures through the murky distance between them, and he could hear the horses pawing nervously at the gravel path as they whickered their timid way down the steep slope. Only Zhou Yu looked completely composed, his expression stoic and empty despite the ribbon of anxiety floating surreptitiously through his obsidian gaze. Chen Hao swallowed the air in his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, denying the unnatural tilt of the world around him that made him feel nauseous and blacking out the image of his commander's white-knuckled fingers. He thought about Meicheng, and Li, and Sun Ce's burning amber eyes – but all his thoughts brought him back to death, and his breath became tight and fast in his mouth, straining against his tongue like the horses at their halter.

"Chen Hao." A tiny shiver ran down the soldier's back at his general's parched voice, and he looked into the onyx eyes as the wagon turned left, moving into a wide switchback pattern to reduce the sheer face of the slope. Zhou Yu's features held no open emotion – any uncertainty he might have been feeling was locked away where Chen Hao couldn't find it The commander shook his head carefully. "We need to continue. Can you listen to me?"

How the general could focus on his narrative at all while they were moving at such a precarious angle was completely beyond Chen Hao – his mind was entirely occupied by the situation at hand. But the sharpness in Zhou Yu's dark eyes said that he wasn't content to sit quietly while they made their journey down the steep hill, and the soldier had no way of telling him to wait. It was not truly a question with more than one answer. Chen Hao swallowed hard and tried to ignore the motion headache growing at the base of his neck; he gave his commander a short nod and instantly regretted the movement that sent his head spinning dizzily. But Zhou Yu had hardly required an affirmation anyway, and he was speaking again almost before his subordinate acknowledged his words.

"Sun Ce and I stayed in Qingshan until the middle of summer. There were a few official matters that needed to be tended to, and we were unsure if Taishi Ci might need our support again in his efforts against Liu Xun." The general broke off and shook his head, digging coarse nails into his wooden support as the wagon turned again, heading right this time at an increased pace that spurred renewed worry in Chen Hao's stomach. "Sun Ce became very bored with his temporary capital, by the end of our stay – most of his time was spent talking to one envoy or another, which isn't very entertaining, admittedly. But few things were as exciting for him as conquest, and he couldn't afford to be at the front line just then—"

The wagon swerved and rocked beneath them, then stopped abruptly. Chen Hao swallowed hard, and Zhou Yu's explanation snapped to a terse halt between his tense lips. A moment of silence drifted around them, broken only by the pawing of the nervous horses and the gruff conversation of their drivers. Then one of the infantrymen spun back to look at them, coal eyes worried and hesitant in his sweating face as he glanced between both apprehensive listeners.

"The forest is getting closer on both sides… we're going to have to try a straight route." Zhou Yu's eyes flickered with some emotion Chen Hao couldn't place, and his fingers tightened on the wagon's side. The driver swallowed and shrugged uncertainly, casting his comrade a wary look over one shoulder. "It's not so much farther to the bottom from here. We'll slow the horses down as well as we can – just hold on, Lord Zhou Yu. We'll be down from here pretty quick."

If that were supposed to be a reassuring sentiment, Chen Hao decided his comrade had fallen far short of his mark. Rarely had so many nervous butterflies flitted in physical fear through the soldier's stomach, and he couldn't help wishing he could abandon the wagon and just walk the rest of the way down the hill. But Zhou Yu wouldn't be able to walk at all, and it hardly seemed right for the general to bump down the treacherous hill by himself. Chen Hao squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and tried to suppress the panic in his ribcage – they shot open again in surprise as Zhou Yu spoke, his quiet voice wending its deceptively calm way through the thin air.

"Are you certain it wouldn't be better to simply let the horses run?"

The driver started, his eyes darting toward the horses and back to their fallen commander in quick succession. Doubt consumed his expression completely, banishing any semblance of control and beating in the raven eyes like black wings startled to flight. The man swallowed heavily and wrung his hands together at the wrists. "I – I'm not sure, my lord. Would it?"

Zhou Yu's lips curved up in the barest hint of an ironic smile. "I have never been much of a horseman, soldier. I was asking your opinion." The infantryman glanced at Chen Hao, as though unable to comprehend a superior officer soliciting another point of view, and then struggled to find an adequate response.

"I… we're afraid that we'd crash at the bottom if we run, my lord. If we go slowly, maybe we can keep the momentum down…" The stoic general nodded calmly, surveying his subordinate's mildly terrified face with eyes that were almost amused.

"But there is a danger that the stress on the halter will be too high, and the leather will snap. Or the hooks attaching the halter to the wagon might be pulled out. In either case, we will lose the ability to stop." The driver appeared at a complete loss for words, but his previously silent comrade spoke up in his defense, not turning away from the reins held so tightly in his visibly frigid hands.

"That's true, sir. But there's too much risk of tipping if we try the other way. This road isn't going to help things, either. I think our odds are better going it slow."

Zhou Yu seemed to consider the answer for a moment, and then he nodded silently against the floor, the dark strands of his hair spilling like a fan around him. "Very well. In that case, proceed." The pale fingers clenched into the wagon's side again as the driver nodded, clicking under his breath to soothe the horses as best he could and wielding his reins again. The leather snapped at the animal's back like a hissing whip, and immediately the subdued pace resumed, inching slowly and nervously down the flat of the slope. Both infantrymen held tightly to their tilted seat, and Chen Hao felt himself pressed hard against the wooden panels, knots and imperfections digging into his back despite the jacket he had draped half-heartedly over both shoulders. Step by tiny step, the wagon made precarious progress down the gravel road.

The horses whinnied. Gravel purred and slid down the path ahead of them, sounding like a tiny rockslide to the soldier's nervous ears. The drivers whispered soothingly to one another and their animals, clacking their tongues as though the minute sounds alone could hold their vehicle in balance on the slippery hill. The general sighed. Chen Hao wrapped both arms around his legs and hunched his tense posture, holding onto his knees like his own flesh would be an anchor against the fall that seemed inevitable. He could almost feel it looming above them, only biding its time until it dragged them uncontrollably into the river at the hill's base and tossed them onto the slippery rocks…

"We left Qingshan a little after Shang Xiang's twenty-first birthday, in high summer."

Chen Hao started, turning back to his commander in astonishment as the soft baritone poured through the tense air. The obsidian eyes were cold and heavy, sinking like rocks in the icy calm of the general's expression and displaying only resolve to the stunned soldier beside him. Zhou Yu shook his head, ignoring the wagon's movement as gravity dragged him closer and closer to the seatback where Chen Hao rested in terse silence.

"Sun Ce was glad to leave the city behind, but I would much rather have stayed. Even endless dignitaries were better than the alternative that confronted us in the fifth moon of 199."

And though he couldn't understand it, Chen Hao had to admire the general's relentless continuation. Had he been the one with a story to tell, the soldier was sure he would have stopped and let the wagon make its way to the base of the ridge before pressing onward. It seemed as though the present situation held urgency even more powerful than the importance of his trailing narrative. But the light in Zhou Yu's onyx eyes – Sun Ce's light, the light that had burned all night through their endless journey – seemed soft and faded now, almost lackluster compared to its former intensity. Chen Hao felt his heart leap suddenly into his throat, and he watched the shallow rise and fall of his commander's chest in the grip of a terror that had nothing to do with their descent. Was the pain getting worse? Was the general running out of time? Was that why he continued so forcefully even now? What did Zhou Yu know that his subordinate didn't?

Perhaps living hours in the grip of a slow, agonizing demise dulled the fear of a quick one. Perhaps when you'd faced death years ago and never recovered, the thought of the final journey lost its sting. Or perhaps his commander just had enough willpower behind his tongue to press forward regardless of circumstance. Chen Hao swallowed hard and drew himself up straighter, defying the cold wind and the icy panic in his stomach to focus on Zhou Yu's voice.

"Why did you leave?" The general almost smirked.

"It was not exactly by choice. But we received a message that I could not ignore, no matter how much I would have liked to turn its courier away and forget him entirely."

The soldier blinked, unable to recall anyone his harsh commander would have been unable to dispel. Zhou Yu didn't seem to hold any bonds of alliance outside the Sun family, and imperial envoys had never been portrayed as particularly important before. The cold air caught in his throat like a warning as Chen Hao took a deep, calming breath and leaned into the wood behind him.

"Who was the message from?" Zhou Yu's eyes had gone cold again, lost in the shadows of anger and anxiety. The general shook his head and opened his mouth, but no sound emerged – or none that Chen Hao could discern, as his attention suddenly shot to the head of the wagon behind him.

Something snapped.

Endless motion was the only sensation that registered in Chen Hao's mind. He felt himself slamming heedlessly into the back of the wagon, nearly tumbling over the end as breath abandoned his lungs. Somewhere a horse screamed in terror – somewhere a man shouted and something heavy hit the ground. Instantly the wagon raced down the hill at breakneck speed, now completely unstoppable. Chen Hao wanted to cry out, but there was no sound in his mouth – he clung to the side and closed his eyes against the flashing landscape, praying in words he didn't understand.

Please… please… anything but this—

It was over almost before it began. A tremendous splash and the ricketing crash of wheels on stone battered the wagon to a stop, skimming it through the bulk of the river's width and sinking it to the spokes in wild mud. Chen Hao held tightly to his secure post for a moment longer, unable to unlatch his arms from their only haven – then he sat back and drew a deep, painful breath, wincing as his lungs stretched in bruised ribs and his eyes came open to survey their colossal accident.

It was a miracle that the wagon remained in one piece – and even more of a miracle that the wheels seemed undamaged. Chen Hao couldn't be sure what deity had reached out a hand and kept the vehicle from tipping over, but he sent a blank prayer into the fading sky above him as his winded breath pushed against the sore ribcage and fought to supply his racing heart. Other than the water sluicing around each spoke and the broken harness drooping into the river, the wagon seemed completely unharmed. Halfway up the hill, the soldier could see both horses shying in terror – their heavy collars, still attached at the neck, chafed the sweating skin as one of the drivers attempted to lure both nervous animals back toward the crash site.

The second infantryman hadn't fared as well as his comrade; Chen Hao could see him groaning and writhing on the riverbank, holding one thigh tightly as a string of unintelligible curses fell from his lips. The darkness made it hard to tell, but from where he sat in the back of the wagon, one arm still pressed tightly against the splinters of the back panels, the winded soldier couldn't see any blood on the driver's leg. Chen Hao sighed softly, surveying the night landscape and the vanishing stars with a prayer of relief on his lips.

We made it. We're going to be all right. No one got badly hurt… no one—

A sudden choking cough shot Chen Hao's eyes wide open, and he spun to look back toward the wagon's bed with terror and shock alternately swallowing his expression. He had forgotten the general. There was Zhou Yu, his hands wrapped through the vertical arches that held the roof still above them, his body pressed against the side of the structure for support – but there was something very unnatural about the angle of his wrist, and his face where it showed between the unkempt folds of his scattered hair was far paler than before. Chen Hao shot to his knees, scrambling back across the wagon floor and grabbing his commander's shoulders with two trembling hands.

"Lord Zhou Yu! Can you hear me?"

Zhou Yu choked and rolled onto his back, spitting a mouthful of blood across the rough planks; Chen Hao watched as it slapped the base of the canvas roof, hypnotized by the crimson drops on the harsh fabric stretched above them. The general's lip was cut badly, spilling scarlet all across the lower half of his face and hovering between his teeth. Zhou Yu ripped his hand away from the roof supports and threw it lifelessly onto his chest, obsidian eyes fiercely closed against the pain that must have been searing like flames across his flesh.

It only took one look for Chen Hao to know his wrist was broken – cleanly snapped at the joint. Part of the soldier wanted to check if the bone could be seen where a huge laceration split the pallid skin, but the other half noticed the tight lines of Zhou Yu's drawn face and couldn't summon the nerve to touch the injury. For a moment, useless panic enveloped Chen Hao and scorched through every muscle in his body, holding him helplessly hostage with uncertainty and contrasting inclination. Then the soldier turned and jostled across the floor, grabbing the knife from his belt and ripping a huge piece of the canvas roof into one long strip.

Adrenaline made his motions rougher than usual and he felt the thin blade slice into the skin of his thumb with a careless slip, but there was not a fraction of the soldier's mind still focused on his own well-being, and he skittered back across the floor lightning-fast, using his makeshift cloth to clear the blood from Zhou Yu's face as well as he could. The general lifted his uninjured arm and held the coarse canvas to his mouth, onyx eyes cracking open and flooding with a sentiment Chen Hao couldn't understand – the soldier didn't wait for an affirmative nod before clambering across the wagon bed again, tearing another chunk of the fabric from their roof and gathering the jagged strip into his arms. Then he paused and considered Zhou Yu's choking, shaking form from an uncertain distance, jaw clenched tightly with nervous indecision.

Chen Hao had never been good at setting bones, and he didn't want to try – but it only took him a few moments to realize that wasn't an option in this case anyway, since his general's wrist had been so badly damaged and he knew so little about what he was doing. The soldier slid to his commander's side and lifted the shattered arm into his hands, doing his best to ignore Zhou Yu's wince and the struggling grip of those blood-covered fingers on his staining sleeve. Chen Hao closed his eyes before he lost his nerve, wrapping the improvised bandage around his general's wrist as carefully as he could manage. The fabric became instantly ebony, soaking up the incursion of spilling blood into its frigid folds and struggling to hold back the flood of the laceration.

Zhou Yu choked, biting the cloth in his free hand against the pain jerking up and down his right arm. Chen Hao bit his lip so hard that he felt tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Somewhere, the drivers were yelling and the horses were whinnying in angry disbelief. The soldier shook his head, staring into his commander's dark, anguished eyes and trying not to see the blood slipping down Zhou Yu's pale neck from beneath the edge of the canvas.

"Chen! Everyone all right in here?"

Chen Hao jumped, accidentally jerking the general's arm into his chest as he turned to face the back of the wagon. One of the drivers stood with both hands braced on the vehicle's end board, his face heavy with sweat and his breath winded from running down the slope. Chen Hao couldn't find an answer – but Zhou Yu's position was answer enough, and the infantryman paled and cursed before rubbing at the dirt peppering his stubbled chin.

"Just hang on. It's going to take a little while to fix the harness…" Insecurity and panic gripped the man's expression, swimming in his raven eyes as he surveyed the general completely covered in his own blood. Zhou Yu spared him a flat glance before he turned away, watching the sky beyond them as it slowly lost its stars. Then his voice faltered through the blood-soaked canvas, fighting against his injured lip to send shivers down the backs of both subordinates with its haunting frailty.

"Get started, then."

The driver stared at him for a long moment – the renowned features broken by flecks of crimson and the sallow ivory that his skin had become – and then the man turned and ran, his footsteps splashing through the river at a heavy trot as he staggered back to the bank and reached his prone comrade. Chen Hao watched him kneel into the thick mud and steady their companion's weak form with two overwhelmed hands – and then a tiny croak drew his attention back to Zhou Yu. The general was staring straight at him, obsidian eyes uncannily focused for the situation they had somehow crashed into – one pale finger motioned Chen Hao forward, and the soldier crawled back to his commander on curious hands.

Zhou Yu leaned up as well as he could, his split lip making his words somewhat hard to understand; Chen Hao cocked his ear closer to the scarlet canvas over the general's mouth to catch his whispering words.

"My father."

The soldier blinked, meeting the dark gaze with an uncomprehending stare. He shook his head silently, unable to imagine what his commander could be saying. Zhou Yu coughed and winced, choking hard on the shaky breath that stirred his chest in shallow motion.

"The message was from my father."

Chen Hao's eyes shot wide, and he sat back with shock flooding his already drained face. Surely the general couldn't intend to continue his story – not in this condition, not while the wagon rested useless and broken in the course of the river, not while his face and arm were bleeding so fervently. But the commander's stoic expression told him otherwise. Zhou Yu reached his uninjured hand up, grabbing the soldier's forearm with trembling fingers and pulling him closer again. Chen Hao bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut against the burden of the choice he didn't have – and then he moved to the general's shoulder and pressed the canvas tightly against his lacerated arm, waiting for the weave of the story. Zhou Yu's eyes closed, deep and fallen.

"We had to return to Shucheng… one last time."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The apples were just beginning to ripen. Each of the tiny green bulbs strewn like festival lanterns between the trees of Qingshan's expansive gardens showed a red sheen on the side that faced the sun, glowing against the pale lime of the fruit like a modest blush and hinting at the sweet smell that would soon suffuse the entire grounds on the wings of the gentle summer breeze. The air hummed with the comings and goings of insects flitting between every strata of blooming flower and the fallen fruit glittering like dull jade in the shadows of their leafy parent boughs; each tiny winged inhabitant brought a feeling of life and movement to the otherwise still garden where Zhou Yu stood motionless, the jasper shade cluttering his pale features.

Somewhere, a lark was singing high and free, and Wu's famed strategist closed his eyes and focused on the coiling melody as his fingers tightened around the shaft of the arrow in one hand and the bow resting easily in the other. The wind brushed dark strands of hair away from his face with its soft, forgiving breath, moving in a slight rustle through the surrounding trees and the long blades of grass tangled around his boots. Zhou Yu sighed silently and opened his onyx eyes again, finding the unadorned target some distance away between mottled trunks and raising the bow into position with sure, practiced hands.

It wasn't much of a shooting range. In fact, there was only one target – a simple circle nailed into a high wooden post with discreet marks to distinguish the zones of accuracy. The swordsman was fairly sure that Taishi Ci had made it himself out of whatever had been handy while he served as regent of Qingshan, and it hadn't seen much use since the Wolf general's appointment to their southern border – but it was a beautiful, peaceful morning, and it had been a long time since the strategist last practiced archery anyway.

Zhou Yu pulled the bowstring back to his chin and held it for a long moment, mentally checking the angle of his elbow and the strength of his fingers before releasing the arrow with a firm snap. The shaft knifed through the air and slammed into the target straight on, just clipping the innermost circle. The swordsman relaxed a little and frowned, eyeing his less-than-perfect shot with mild annoyance. Archery had never been his strong suit to begin with – and predictably, time away from the practice range had done nothing to improve his skill with the distance weapon.

"Bull's eye!"

But there was no accounting for differing opinions. Zhou Yu rolled his eyes at the jubilant exclamation and glanced over one shoulder to where Sun Ce rested in the shade of the closest apple tree, both arms folded behind his head as a makeshift cushion. The young lord grinned and flashed his strategist a victory symbol, one amber eye closed against the undaunted force of the sun in the sky above them.

"You nailed that one," the Sun lord added helpfully. Zhou Yu shook his head and gave the young officer a flat look.

"I thought I told you to go back to work." A flight of birds dashed from the tree branches overhead and sailed off through the cloudless heavens with a flurry of gossiping cries, splitting the summer sky with their feathered formation. Sun Ce laughed, sticking his tongue out at his dark-haired companion and throwing a fallen apple ineffectually toward the strategist's feet.

"You actually expect me to sit in that stuffy room while you're out here enjoying the sunshine? I don't think so."

Zhou Yu dodged the apple easily and raised an eyebrow, sparing the cheerful young man an openly condescending glance. "I did all of my work last night – so between the two of us, I have more right to be in this garden than you do," he countered nonchalantly.

Sun Ce chucked another apple at him, and the bulbous fruit skipped across the ground to land some distance past the unimpressed strategist. The Sun lord closed his amber eyes and laid back into the grass with an infectious grin playing at his lips; he shifted into a comfortable position amidst the prematurely shed produce, openly unfazed by the swordsman's argument.

"Stick it in your ear, Yu. I'm on lunch break."

Zhou Yu chuckled softly, an easy smile sliding over his expression and lightening his naturally stoic features at the effortless morning banter. The strategist turned back to his target and drew another arrow from the quiver on his back, feeling the feathers jagged and flat beneath his fingers as he considered his aim and squared his stance.

"Lunch isn't for another hour at least, Ce. You're just lazy." The swordsman drew his arm back and released, watching the arrow's path intersect the thick target a little higher than its predecessor. Zhou Yu fingered the rough grip of his bow as Sun Ce shrugged, the motion just registering in his companion's periphery.

"So what if I am? It's too hot to work anyway. I just want a nap – is that a crime?"

The swordsman shook his head in subtle amusement, pausing to study his first two shots as the wind picked up and whipped amiably through his dark hair and the rustling emerald leaves on each side of them. "It's a crime that I'm going to be finishing that work for you in a few hours." The third arrow split the target's center evenly, alighting at an equal distance from each of the others and drawing a tiny smile onto its archer's thin lips.

The Sun lord sighed happily and kicked his heels into the silken grass, the breeze brushing untamed chestnut locks across his unbothered forehead. "That's the way it's supposed to be, Yu. I do all the fun stuff and you do all the boring stuff. And between the two of us, we get everything done."

The strategist smirked but said nothing, letting their conversation drift away as Sun Ce reclined completely and fell into contented silence. Above them, the unbroken sapphire of the cloudless sky seemed to stretch forever in each direction, interrupted only by the glowing disk of the sun beating mercilessly down on the temporary capital. Zhou Yu pushed a bead of sweat away from his temple and let his glance wander the shaded paths of the garden that stretched away from him on every side like a spider's web, each band of gravel glowing nearly golden in the endless streaming sunlight.

It was, indeed, a very warm morning – in fact, it had been a warm summer all around. The Wu Territory's usual pattern of afternoon thunderstorms seemed to have abdicated in favor of the never-ending heat, which had held Qingshan in siege ever since Zhou Yu and his companion arrived weeks earlier. In previous years, the swordsman remembered mild squalls blowing up nearly every day to splinter the pervasive sunshine, but it had been some time since rain graced the city in any considerable amount, and brown patches of grass in the open clearing were proof of the uncharacteristically dry weather.

Not even the nights had been cool; the strategist had taken to sleeping with his window open and nothing but a light sheet covering his bed. And Sun Ce, who apparently had a lower temperature tolerance than his stony swordsman, had gone even farther – there had been quite a stir amidst the palace staff the first time a servant walked in on the Sun lord sleeping on his floor in nearly nothing at all.

Zhou Yu rolled his eyes at his wandering memory and dragged another arrow from the quiver on his back, studying the smooth shaft between his fingers with a preoccupied countenance suddenly shading serious. In a way, it was embarrassing that Sun Ce had become the subject of the chuckling rumors among his payroll again – but in another way, the strategist was glad that gossip was the most vicious threat his snoozing companion had to worry about at the moment.

A shiver slid down the swordsman's spine at the thought of Xu Gong, and his jaw clenched angrily as both eyes narrowed to uneasy slits. It was true that the man was dead, and that all of his correspondences had been tracked and eliminated – but the idea of their conquered lords turning against them to seek a coup from Cao Cao and the imperial court hadn't occurred to Zhou Yu before the incident, at least not in any force. Wu had been stable as a territory for over a year, and except for border hounds like Liu Xun the threats to their conquest seemed to have died out. But the prefect of Wucheng had raised doubts in Zhou Yu's mind again, and alerted the strategist to the considerable threat the subjugated lords could pose.

The swordsman scuffed one heel against the ground, clouting the fallen apples away from his feet as though they too sought to harm the young officer dozing nearby. Men like Xu Gong still existed throughout Wu in significant number, some of them members of the various courts that assembled in Sun Ce's principal cities and stood by with empty compliments whenever the situation seemed appropriate. It wasn't impossible for them to try another assassination – in person, perhaps, to avoid the pitfall of intercepted messages. And while the Sun lord was certainly more than capable of defending himself, there was no way of knowing what kind of force mutinous courtiers could muster if they schemed together and called for outside assistance.

It seemed to be an impenetrable quandary. Though it was certainly unreasonable to have all the vaguely suspicious lords beheaded for one man's act of rebellion, Zhou Yu couldn't help the troubled feeling that settled in his stomach whenever he considered the incident. The strategist hadn't been able to devise a way of neutralizing their power, and that made him nervous enough that sleep had stopped coming easily no matter how long he worked into the night. Rarely had he experienced insomnia so vicious – even the Sun lord sleeping unharmed amid nearby pillows could never seem to calm the unsteady rhythm of his anxious heartbeat.

Zhou Yu stared at the arrow in his hand with unseeing eyes, fingering the well-used fletches as his lips settled into a grim line. The sunshine seemed to lose its encompassing warmth at the memory of the blood-black characters in Xu Gong's letter, writhing like snakes across his intended death warrant. What would have happened if the letter hadn't been intercepted – if Duke Cao had received the deceased lord's proposal as intended. Would Cao Cao truly have sent for Sun Ce, and kept him in the imperial court until he could be executed? Would the Sun lord have gone north if the emperor demanded it of him? Would they have been able to stop the plan from proceeding? Or…

Zhou Yu shook himself and refocused on his shot, sending a harsh arrow off into the shrubs beyond the target as anger and anxiety made his motions rough. The strategist bit his lip, chastising eyes following the botched shaft to its haphazard place among the leafy undergrowth of the garden's untamed folds and forcing the irritation in his veins to slowly simmer and settle back to a manageable level. It didn't matter. Xu Gong had been executed, and the plot destroyed with him – Duke Cao knew nothing of his loyal traitor's intentions. And now they would be wary of any summons from the imperial court, alerted to a previously hidden threat… the strategist shook his head and snapped the bowstring in time to his strained, rushing pulse. It wasn't worth worrying about anymore – not today, when the sun was shining so brightly and Sun Ce was resting only a matter of feet away, tucked safely into Qingshan's generous shade.

"Chill out, Yu. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack."

Zhou Yu blinked and turned to glance backward at the lazy drawl that nearly echoed his thoughts, flicking the strands of windswept hair from his shoulders. Sun Ce was propped up on one elbow amidst the lush grass, amber eyes watching the tense swordsman between ruffled chestnut bangs and mirroring the light frown that colored the young officer's expression. The Sun lord shook his head, flopping back limply onto the ground and motioning to the ample shadows of the apple tree around him.

"Come on. Take a break before you pop a blood vessel. If I'd known a little archery was going to be so stressful for you, I would have stopped you before you started."

Zhou Yu rolled his eyes and tapped the bow idly against his shoulder, empty hand slipping to his hip in mild consternation at the Little Conqueror's knowing tone. He considered informing the Sun lord how little his present activity actually had to do with the scowl affixed to his features, but it hardly seemed worth the effort; the strategist let the words slip away from his preoccupied tongue without voicing them, turning back to the target and ignoring his lounging companion. Zhou Yu drew another arrow from the sturdy quiver and fired almost before he had time to aim, stalling his sobering contemplation with the whip-like motion of the shaft through the buzzing summer air.

It didn't matter anymore. Zhou Yu winced as the bowstring snapped along his forearm, burning the pale skin with a line of red welts. Xu Gong was dead. Sun Ce was safe. And anyone else with an interest in the young lord's life could find their answer at the end of his blade—

"Yu!" The strategist startled and nearly dropped his bow at the insistent interruption, his frayed heartbeat racing faster with the unexpected intrusion. Zhou Yu turned back to meet the flaring amber eyes with a light glare, which Sun Ce matched easily as he patted the ground beside him and frowned at his hesitating swordsman. The young lord raised one hand to shield his face from the dappled sunlight and jerked his chin in the vague direction of the apple tree. "C'mon – I'm serious. Come sit with me."

Zhou Yu wavered for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the half-filled archery target and the escaped arrow lurking in the bushes behind it. Then he sighed and moved into the cool shade of the overhung boughs, resting gently against the patchy trunk and dropping both bow and quiver into the thick grass at his side. It was rarely worth arguing with the Sun lord, especially since he tended to become stubborn as a mule and dig his heels in until the strategist wanted to break something – and the archery practice hadn't been going particularly well in any case. Perhaps a short break from productivity wouldn't kill him.

Sun Ce flopped onto his stomach with a victorious grin and a wink, chin resting on his joined hands as he kicked his feet lazily back and forth. "That's more like it. I'll bet you'd be less grumpy if you would just relax once in a while."

Wu's dark swordsman rolled his eyes and reached out to cuff the young officer apathetically on the back of the head, unable to summon any real annoyance despite the teasing words and his disrupted pastime. The warmth of the morning sun, embroidered with the hovering insects and the wind brushing against his face, lulled his onyx eyes closed and chased the dark thoughts into the back of his mind where they couldn't fester quite so easily. Sun Ce hummed tunelessly into the thick summer air, and Zhou Yu listened to the inharmonic sound with half an ear as the sunshine poured across the garden and evaporated the lingering anxiety running through him, replacing it with an inescapable feeling of idle drowsiness.

For a moment, the morning seemed to hang suspended in peaceful reflection, nothing moving besides the rustling leaves above their heads – but Sun Ce could never be still for long, and it only took a matter of minutes for the restless officer to exhaust his stationary patience. Zhou Yu cracked one eye open lethargically as the Sun lord picked up a loose stick and began tapping his unsteady rhythm on the swordsman's leg, swinging his feet noiselessly back and forth. Sun Ce smiled up into the mild onyx eyes, speckled sunlight flitting like freckles across his face.

"I like it here," he announced decidedly. Zhou Yu blinked, one eyebrow rising into the furrows of his surprised and vaguely unconvinced forehead.

"I thought you hated this city. You've been complaining for the last three weeks about Qingshan being excruciatingly dull." The Sun lord wrinkled his nose, smacking the handy stick against his strategist's shoulder with a small frown.

"Qingshan is dull. There's nothing to do here but listen to those envoys talk all day – and since everybody else is still in Niuqiao, I don't even have anyone to play with." Zhou Yu scoffed under his breath.

"I believe that was the point. I hoped it would encourage you to get your work done – but all I've truly acquired is a lot of whining." Sun Ce stuck out his tongue and whapped the swordsman with his stick again, slumping into the dense grass with a light glare burning in his eyes.

"What did you expect? You've practically had me locked in that office the whole time!" Zhou Yu sighed silently and turned his gaze back to the endless sky as he lost the will to argue, pieces of chipped cerulean just glimmering through the thick emerald of the apple tree's leaves. Sun Ce kicked his feet viciously back and forth through the still air, unsettling the flow of the wind trembling in the boughs over their heads. "I've got plenty to whine about."

The strategist said nothing, obsidian eyes locked on the smooth contours of Heaven high above him. Of course, their journey to Qingshan hadn't really had anything to do with the Sun lord's lack of a powerful work ethic – nor had their departure from Niuqiao in spring, when the first thaw sent them hastening to aid Taishi Ci in his campaigns against the encroaching armies of Liu Xun. Instability in southern Wu had been the main reason for their migration from the northernmost region of the territory, but Zhou Yu had felt relieved to depart the sizeable city of Niuqiao for a completely different reason.

A flock of birds settled into the branches over their heads with a rash of high-pitched melodies, skittering among the various twigs and vying for first pick at the insects sweeping through the morning breeze. Zhou Yu gritted his teeth, closing both eyes against the absent headache building behind his temples. Xuan. Xuan was the reason the swordsman had been so glad to leave Niuqiao as soon as the snow faded, and the reason he wasn't particularly interested in returning any time soon. It was possible that Sun Ce felt similarly about his adopted daughter – but the idly irked expression on the young officer's face didn't tell the strategist anything, and he leaned back into the trunk with a heavy exhale that seemed to draw from all of his exhaustion and the tension riding so stiffly through his shoulders.

The trouble with children was that they got older. Actually, in Zhou Yu's opinion, the real trouble with children was that they existed at all, but he had resigned himself to the inevitability of small, obnoxious creatures running underfoot for the next seventeen or so years shortly after Xiao Qiao announced her pregnancy. What a winter in Niuqiao had taught him, however, was that with every stage of growth a child went through came more unfortunate and stressful aspects of their existence.

Infants were loud. They screamed at inconvenient times and occasionally chose to be inconsolable – and even happy babies could be ear-splitting when they felt like it. But as the weeks wore on and children changed from completely helpless infants to only moderately helpless ones, they grew more and more irritating. Xuan, in particular, had begun to roll and twist whenever he was laid on a flat surface, and it resulted in both Xiao Qiao and Lu Meng leaping for the edges of tables and sitting platforms with incredible frequency. Yingmei had developed an incredible set of lungs – the strategist couldn't be sure why, but shrieking had become her favorite activity, and she was insufferable if left alone for even a short period of time. Lady Qiao had assured the household that the ear piercing screeches coming from her daughter were generally sounds of pleasure and comfort, but the swordsman couldn't bring himself to find any joy in her outbursts.

But perhaps the worst thing about Xuan, in Zhou Yu's opinion, was that the child seemed to have grown attached to him. Xiao Qiao's son was a temperamental child even for a baby, and in the wrong mood he refused to be held by his own father – but there was something about the dark strategist that drew a smile onto his rounded face at every turn, and that reaction made Zhou Yu sick to his stomach in a way he couldn't quite place. Perhaps it was just the feeling of haunting memory that lurked in the corners of his mind every time he witnessed Xuan's beaming countenance – but the swordsman couldn't help wondering how long it took for that open adoration to change to dislike, and whether he had ever looked at his own father that way before Zhou Fan slid beneath his affection.

Sun Ce shook himself, chestnut ponytail flashing from side to side like a stream of silk, and the small motion shattered Zhou Yu's solemn train of thought. The swordsman blinked as five tan fingers reached out and tapped a nameless beat on his knee in place of the abandoned stick; amber met obsidian with a laughing smile as the young officer shook his head.

"But anyway – that's not what I meant. I don't like Qingshan at all." Zhou Yu raised an eyebrow, looking down at his companion from the superior height of his position against the tree trunk.

"What did you mean?" Sun Ce grinned, his eyes dancing with the effervescent sunlight shimmering between olive leaves all around them.

"I meant I like right here. Right now." The Sun lord paused a moment and then shrugged, reaching out to grab his swordsman's hand where it rested in the lush grass. "Like this."

Zhou Yu felt a small smile quirking his lips upward at the corners – then he dropped his head back against the rough bark of the trunk and closed his eyes, finding the irritation and uncertainty that had been lurking in his ribcage only moments before inexplicably vanished.

"Mm."

For a long moment, the strategist felt nothing but the warmth of the sun and Sun Ce's tireless fingers twining between his own, and heard nothing but the sighing exhale of his restless companion as the wind scattered in the boughs above them, dragging more apples from the deep nest of leaves and throwing them senselessly to the ground below. The world beyond the garden retreated into the darkness behind his eyelids, sleep neglected for long nights tugging inquisitively at his dulled senses with the texture of daydreams… Wu's dark swordsman relaxed into the contours of the bark and squeezed his companion's hand. For just an instant, Zhou Yu almost thought he could feel the sunshine brilliance of Sun Ce's smile through their united fingers.

Just an instant.

"Sun Ce! Zhou Yu!"

The powerful shout and a crash of urgent footsteps shattered the moment abruptly, jolting the strategist into a full sitting position and jarring his hand away from Sun Ce's. Zhou Yu's eyes shot open and his gaze dashed lightning-quick around the clearing, searching for an origin to the voice his foggy mind could not yet assign a face. The Sun lord jumped as well and pulled himself into a crouch, resting on his elbows and glancing around with a significant yawn that belied the alertness instantly swimming through his amber eyes – and for a seemingly interminable moment, nothing moved in the thick undergrowth.

Zhou Yu felt his forehead furrowing, and he wondered where the sound had come from for its herald to be out of sight – but he didn't have to wonder very long. Han Dang charged through the far bushes like a typhoon and broke into a stiff jog at the sight of his quarry, face solemn and set beneath the rays of the sun.

"There you are – I've been looking everywhere for you two. Come back to the palace – quickly." The veteran's weathered eyes writhed with urgent light as he halted abruptly several strides from the tree, both hands flat and still as stones against the weave of his tunic. Sun Ce exchanged a confused look with his dark strategist and pushed to his feet, brushing a few lingering blades of grass away from his knees as the general shifted impatiently and glanced over one preoccupied shoulder.

"Hey, Han Dang – what's the matter? Trouble in paradise?" The Sun lord's voice was light and steady, but there was an undertone of wary curiosity that caught Zhou Yu's attention as he rose from the soft soil and joined his companion at the edge of the shade. The swordsman studied the contours of their loyal general's face, set like granite into a stern expression they rarely carried, and wondered what could have brought such immobile severity to Han Dang's features this early in the morning.

The veteran rubbed anxiously at his stubbled chin, coal gaze flashing over each young officer in turn and then back toward the palace behind him. "Not trouble, exactly. A messenger's just arrived, Sun Ce – and I think you'd better see him right away. I sent him into the audience hall to wait for you."

The Sun lord started, surprise plain on his tan features; Zhou Yu felt his lips settling into a grim line as a feeling of confusion hovered somewhere beneath his ribs. Messengers weren't rare in the court of the Little Conqueror, of course – but Han Dang hadn't shown this much interest in dealing with one of them as long as the strategist could remember, and certainly never this much anxiety. Sun Ce and his father's veteran almost had an unspoken agreement concerning the obnoxious envoys, and Han Dang tended to ignore them as long as possible before forcing the Sun lord to deal with his dull visitors. But today… the dark swordsman rushed a hand through his scattered hair and caught the general's imperative stare, drawing himself straighter and preparing for the countless catastrophes that might send Han Dang hurtling through Qingshan's garden.

"Who sent the messenger? Taishi Ci?" Had Wu's Wolf warrior met significant trouble along the border again? His forces had been well-provisioned but struggling with low morale when Xu Gong's threat forced the Sun lord and his strategist back to Qingshan – had the situation deteriorated in the few weeks since Taishi Ci last saw them?

To the swordsman's considerable surprise, Han Dang shook his head and refused to meet the questioning obsidian eyes, windswept hair flickering over his forehead as he bit into his lower lip. "I think you'd better go talk to him, Zhou Yu." A shadow lingered beneath his gaze and darkened the already severe expression, turning his lips down in an uncertain frown. The veteran glanced around the clearing and shifted his weight again, motioning to the abandoned target and its corresponding quiver with an awkwardly stoic gesture. "I'll clean up here. Just hurry."

Zhou Yu scowled, irritated at the general's evasion and worried by the concern seeping into his stomach, twisting with a thousand disastrous possibilities for the messenger's errand. A demand for clarification poised above his tongue, ready to pour into the too-warm morning air and force answers out of the reluctant general, but Sun Ce's hand on his arm stalled the swordsman before he could speak.

"The audience hall, huh? Thanks, Han Dang – we'll get right on that." So saying, the Sun lord tightened his grip on his displeased strategist and started off across the clearing, moving purposefully through the thick grass and into the bushes from which Han Dang had erupted scant minutes earlier. Zhou Yu glared at the back of the chestnut ponytail and shook his hand free, but he kept pace with his unaffected companion and tried to ignore the apprehension flickering in his ribcage as the gravel path crunched beneath their feet.

"Why didn't you ask him what the messenger wants?" the swordsman asked as soon as they passed out of earshot, keeping his voice low in line with their footsteps. Sun Ce shrugged nonchalantly and flicked his bangs away from his eyes, amber gaze shooting to his annoyed strategist at the question.

"Why bother? He obviously didn't want to tell us anything. We'll find out in a minute anyway."

The strategist frowned, his dark eyes riffling with irritation. "I'd prefer to be prepared for whatever it is. We have no idea what we're walking into." The Sun lord laughed at that, reaching out to pat his companion's shoulder and shaking his head easily.

"Prepared for what – the message? It can't be dangerous, Yu – Han Dang wouldn't send us anywhere near someone who might be a threat." Sun Ce twisted a strand of chestnut hair between his fingers and sighed softly, fidgeting against the warm breeze that tangled his bangs and blocked his ready eyes. "Whatever it is, let's just get it over with – and then we can deal with it and get rid of the problem altogether."

There wasn't truly anything to say to that, and Zhou Yu fell silent, his eyes catching glimpses of the palace between the trees ahead of them as the path ground subtly beneath their leather boots. Slowly the annoyance rushing through him changed and morphed, settling into the pit of his stomach in uneasy blocks; the strategist swept the dark hair away from his shoulders and stared through the foliage before them, his mind swirling with the possibilities for the message awaiting them in the sunlit palace.

There was still a chance that Taishi Ci had sent the envoy – but in that case, Han Dang's behavior made no sense at all. Any message from the south would be a call for military support of one kind or another, and then haste would be essential in gathering the necessary men and setting out for the border. There wouldn't be any time to waffle – and waffling would be unthinkable for any Wu general in such a situation anyway. Zhou Yu shook his head, stepping over a few more fallen apples and locking his eyes on the distant ridge of the tiled roof. Han Dang had been downright evasive – and that, more than anything, made the strategist nervous about the messenger's errand. Sun Jian's veteran was not a hesitant man by nature. What kind of news could make Han Dang that anxious but unwilling to disclose the message himself?

The swordsman pressed his lips together as the garden's trees suddenly retreated behind them like a cloudburst, opening into the long brick staircase that led to the palace's back door; Sun Ce jogged easily up the steps, his boots slapping like rough waves against the granite, and Zhou Yu increased pace to match him still lost in thought. What other aspects of the empire could send Han Dang running to find them instead of dealing with the messenger in his usual fashion? There hadn't been any recent threats to the north, and Xuancheng's reconstruction was proceeding as planned despite the Black Fist Gang's devastating assault the year before. But if any of Wu's cities had been attacked, Han Dang would surely have reported the incident right away, and undoubtedly have sent orders for the army to begin preparation as well. So what kind of catastrophe would cause his halting silence?

Sun Ce passed the stone lions at the head of the staircase and turned left, slipping under the shade of the roofed walkway to reach the highly decorated back entrance. Zhou Yu bit his inner cheek hard and followed his companion's quick footsteps, his mind spiraling into the darkness of lingering worry as they stepped through the doorway and into the cooling shadows of the aft corridor. If the messenger hadn't brought news of military trouble, then something else must have happened – something Han Dang couldn't bring himself to announce in person. Something personal.

Had things gone wrong in Niuqiao? What if one of the Qiao sisters' children had been injured somehow, or been kidnapped in the hopes of a wealthy ransom? Or the disaster could have taken place in Xuancheng – had Zhou Tai's wounds reopened during the light training he had finally been permitted to resume? Sun Quan had been suffering from a cold in his last letter to Qingshan – perhaps his illness had matured and transformed into a severely dangerous disease. Shang Xiang and her mother had been headed to Moling to meet with Lady Wu's relatives – had they reached the city safely? Had they been intercepted along the road? Traveling was dangerous even in Wu – and though the two women had been escorted and were certainly capable individuals themselves, there was no telling what could have befallen the small party along their journey south.

Zhou Yu felt his pulse elevating and rushing though his veins as every worrisome option slid through his mind, each tugging in turn at the lump of growing panic in his stomach. Han Dang was a fierce soldier – but what if the news concerned a personal disaster instead of a military one? Would that bring dark lines of troubled shadow to the veteran's normally open face? Would that cause the disarming silence hampering his tongue?

"Sheesh – it can't be that bad."

Zhou Yu blinked at the unexpected interruption, glancing to Sun Ce's neutral expression as they rounded a tight corner and turned down the corridor leading directly to the audience chamber. The Sun lord shrugged, amber eyes flashing up at their onyx opposites with exasperated amusement as the Little Conqueror shook his head.

"You look like we're walking to an execution. It's probably nothing – Han Dang just gets weird sometimes. You remember last spring when we got that envoy from the emperor, and he walked around stiff as a board for weeks afterward?"

Zhou Yu scowled, crossing both arms firmly over his chest as the hallway echoed with their off-rhythm footsteps. "That was entirely different. I have never seen Han Dang like this before – and neither have you. We don't have any idea what would cause him to act this way." Sun Ce cocked his head to the side, a small smile playing at his lips as he elbowed his strategist encouragingly in the side.

"Whatever it is, it's nothing we can't handle. Don't worry about it." The Sun lord's conviction was simultaneously irking and vaguely reassuring, despite its baseless confidence; the swordsman scoffed under his breath and shook his head, watching idly as doorways slid past on each side of them and the hallway carried them closer to their destination. Anxiety tightened his muscles and drew him straighter as the entrance to the audience hall finally appeared in the shadows of the corridor, waiting as a dead end some distance ahead. The strategist gritted his teeth. Niuqiao or Xuancheng – those were the most likely trouble spots…

"Come on, lighten up." Zhou Yu blinked, startled out of his thoughts once again by the Sun lord's prying elbow. Sun Ce shrugged into the still air of the corridor, which seemed almost unnervingly silent after the animated environment of the garden. "It's gonna be fine. Don't let it get to you."

The strategist said nothing, his gaze focused squarely on the door ahead of them and the two guardsmen posted outside it. The mildly dozing soldiers started and stood up straighter as they noticed the approaching officers, each man bowing low even before their commander drew close enough to necessitate the act of respect.

"Your visitor waits inside, Lord Sun Ce."

Sun Ce smiled at the guards and waved at them inattentively, the majority of his attention centered on his silently scowling swordsman. "Thanks guys – keep up the good work."

His response drew a pair of smiles onto the guards' faces despite its preoccupied tone, pulling both men to their full height and attention with a pride Zhou Yu assumed must stem from their near hero worship of the Little Conqueror. The strategist stalked past the soldiers and reached for the door, mind still caught up in his trailing concerns, but Sun Ce wasn't content to let their conversation go so easily – he leaned forward and grabbed Zhou Yu's wrist at the last minute, halting the tense fingers before they could properly grip the carved handle and stopping their small party just short of the audience hall. The swordsman gave his companion a flat look, but the young officer just smirked slightly and shook his head.

"Hang on. I'll tell you a quick joke – that'll put you in a better mood." Zhou Yu blinked, turning away from the door to face the young officer fully as his forehead furrowed in confusion.

"Ce… why would you bother putting me in a good mood before we hear the bad news?"

It seemed like a waste of effort – whatever messenger had managed to sober Han Dang so severely would undoubtedly only worsen the swordsman's already aggravated temper, and any brief sanctity from solemnity the Sun lord's joke might be able to secure would immediately vanish. But Sun Ce grinned impishly at the lack of an outright rejection, and he dropped his hands from Zhou Yu's wrist to lean easily against the door before them.

"I'm pretty sure you're gonna pop a blood vessel if I don't. This way, even if you get upset again, you won't explode or anything." The strategist rolled his eyes, fairly certain that he wasn't in danger of fatal hypertension despite his concerns about the strange envoy, but his lord ignored the vote of idiocy and pressed on with an unmistakable glint in his amber eyes. "So here's your joke: How many Lu Mengs does it take to make a bottle of wine?"

Zhou Yu blinked, caught completely off guard by the unexpected and unintelligible question – for a fraction of an instant, he almost considered the subject seriously. Even the guards looked intrigued by the unusual inquiry, leaning forward at their posts and sharing quick glances as though each wondering whether the other had solved the riddle yet. A moment of silence encompassed the group as Sun Ce snickered to himself and the chamber waited quietly before them – then Zhou Yu sighed and ran a stiff hand through his hair, shaking his head and gesturing at random with one irked hand. There wasn't time for this nonsense; the swordsman bit back his wandering thoughts about the chances of Lu Meng even knowing how to make wine and gave his companion a sternly exasperated glare.

"I don't know, Sun Ce – how many Lu Mengs does it take?" The Sun lord grinned fiercely and chuckled at his disinterested tone, turning back to the door with a quick wink.

"I'll tell you later. You can mull it over while we get through this." And without further explanation, the young officer pushed the door open and strode dramatically into his audience hall, arms swinging in an amused swagger. Zhou Yu rolled his eyes again and waved the guards away, dismissing them from their post now that the visitor would be attended; then he followed his irritating companion into the chamber and slammed the door closed, not particularly in a better mood despite the odd riddle he'd received.

Two steps inward was all the further he got. Then he stopped dead, coming to a halt at Sun Ce's side as his onyx eyes shot wide and his feet lost the ability to move, staggering on the thick carpet as though tangled in nettled vines. His breath became short and stuck in his throat, deadly and soft as knotted rope. For an interminable moment, he couldn't think at all.

And then he realized that perhaps it wasn't the message that had brought Han Dang running – perhaps it was the messenger himself.

"Lord Sun Ce."

Two calmly guarded eyes considered the stalled officers from the center of the chamber, matching the neutral expression of the visitor's stiff form with their unintelligible shadow. The envoy bowed rigidly, his thin ponytail slicking forward to rest around his neck over the grit of travel that littered his rich robe.

"And… Master Zhou Yu. It's good to see you. It's been… a long time, hasn't it?"

The dark swordsman drew a shallow breath – but it stuck in his lungs and refused to release, tightening his shoulders as Sun Ce swallowed hard. The strategist could only stare at their visitor, appraising his dusty boots and the features that hadn't changed – riddled with regret in a tightly forgiving face. The features that part of him had never expected to see again.

Zhou Yu pressed his lips into a thin line, jaw tightening with stressed silence as the Little Conqueror found his voice at last.

"Xing Dao."

And as though Sun Ce's acknowledgement had breathed life into the stony figure before them, color seemed to spring into the motionless envoy – suddenly Zhou Yu noticed the too-warm hue of his face and the sweeping silk of his cloak and the tight shadow lurking in his coal-black eyes. Xing Dao swallowed a tight breath and a small smile, and the force of his presence hit the strategist like a tidal wave, nearly knocking him backward a step in its incomprehensible force.

Xing Dao. His father's friend. Sun Jian's veteran. The man who had tormented him during his first few years in Fu Chun, trailing the swordsman at every opportunity like a rejected uncle. Zhou Yu bit down hard on his lip and struggled to get his careening thoughts in order as the man in question stepped forward and bowed again; his gaze never left the frozen strategist with both fists tangled in fierce knots, even as he spoke to the master of Wu instead.

"I suppose congratulations are in order, Lord Sun Ce… who knew you'd make it as far as you have."

There was something cold about his tone – something that didn't ring quite complete about the words winging like scattered feathers through the tense air of the audience chamber. Zhou Yu felt it almost crawling under his skin as the voice echoed softly against the vaulted ceiling – and from his tense posture, the swordsman assumed his companion heard it as well. Sun Ce pursed his lips and crossed both arms guardedly over his chest, amber gaze studying the neutral features of their visitor across a distance he made no move to shorten.

"I guess I should thank you."

What was Xing Dao doing in Qingshan? Zhou Yu felt the question tumbling through his mind at hurricane speed as the unexpected envoy chuckled quietly, the sound barely slipping past his tight mouth. The general before them had served Sun Jian faithfully before his death – but after the strategist's last trip to his family manor, many years ago now, Xing Dao had requested permission to remain on his estate and support the Tiger of Jiang Dong from there. He hadn't even sent correspondence to Sun Ce when he left Yuan Shu; his loyalty to the lord of Wu was nowhere close to a certainty in the swordsman's mind. In fact, Zhou Yu hadn't laid eyes on the slightly rugged features that peered intently at him now for so many years he couldn't even summon the presence of mind to count them – and he wasn't pleased to see them now.

Xing Dao's trickling chuckle dropped off into the unnatural silence, countering the ironic smile that curved the messenger's lips slightly upward – an expression somehow anything but amused. The swordsman could see that his restless companion had gone completely rigid, staring at his unwanted visitor with unblinking amber eyes as Xing Dao took a step closer and scuffed one heel against the thick carpet. It made sense for Sun Ce to be uneasy – Zhou Yu could feel the same emotion writhing through his stomach as he gazed down at the general's long-forgotten form. Xing Dao's presence could only mean troubling news, and the dark strategist squared his shoulders as the envoy found his eyes and addressed him directly.

"I don't have time to stay very long – and I'm sorry to say I wouldn't, even if the choice were open to me."

Sun Ce seemed to bristle at the man's quietly condescending tone, a wish to respond and drive the envoy from his audience hall visible between the impatient lines of his countenance. Zhou Yu swallowed. He had never been fond of the man before them. But there was something so different about Xing Dao now from his previous open and giving personality, something so removed from the obnoxiously parental man who had forced his unending affection on the swordsman for the better part of two years… it made Zhou Yu wonder what hardships the wartorn times had brought to the distant general, and how much his own break with his family had affected the darkened features.

Xing Dao sighed into the waiting silence, brushing his thin hair back from his shoulders and staring carelessly into the strategist's dark eyes. "But I have an urgent message for you, Master Zhou Yu – one I hope you will not ignore despite your prejudices."

A slight glower threatened the swordsman's features at the patronizing tone, but he swallowed it back and said nothing, watching their former comrade with wary eyes. Xing Dao paused a moment, seeming to judge his listener's reaction with a thoughtful frown before he let a tiny smile flicker at the edges of his lips and his voice softened into a murmur.

"I have to tell you, Zhou Yu… if it were my decision, I wouldn't have brought you this message at all." Zhou Yu blinked, caught off guard by the reminiscent gentleness spilling through the hardened envoy's features. Xing Dao laughed quietly and shook his head, tousled bangs obscuring his eyes. "If it were my choice, I would never have approached you again… not as you are now." The swordsman's eyes narrowed at the condescension riding through the general's voice, and his response hit the air of the tense chamber before he even had time to consider it.

"I have always been this way, Xing Dao. I apologize if I ever misled you in that respect. Now please deliver your message – you are not wanted here any more than you seem to want to stay."

The messenger flinched slightly at his harsh tone, and Sun Ce shot his companion an approving backward glance; the strategist's onyx eyes locked on their hesitating visitor in an unrelenting glare as a long moment of silence circled the audience chamber and settled into the thick carpet. Then Xing Dao laughed, a coldly haunting sound that flared a shiver of discomfort down Zhou Yu's spine. The Sun lord scowled heavily at the amused envoy and crossed both arms over his chest, amber gaze focused in a tight stare.

"Yu's right. Spit it out, and then get out of here."

Only in battle had the strategist heard his lord's voice so rife with harsh demand – but the look in Sun Ce's eyes said this confrontation was truly no different than a clash of enemies, and that the distant general would find no welcome in the Wu forces. Xing Dao seemed to sense the young lord's building dislike as well, because he straightened in his stance and glanced between the waiting officers with appraising eyes. Then the envoy cleared his throat.

"Consider your opinion understood, Lord Sun Ce – and I promise you, I will be gone from your court as soon as I have fulfilled my duty." Xing Dao's gaze flashed importantly as he drew himself to full height and stared dully into the strategist's obsidian eyes. "Master Zhou Yu – I bring a request for the grace of your presence, in addition to the presence of your wife and child, in the home of a dying man." Zhou Yu pressed his lips into a firm line at the halfway conceited tone, irritation furrowing his brow and coloring his words a searing copper.

"My wife is not going anywhere – and her son is too young to travel." A flicker of longing shot through Xing Dao's eyes at the mention of the swordsman's family, but it was gone almost before Zhou Yu could identify it. The strategist shook his head firmly, voice growing yet rougher with every word. "Their visiting anyone is completely out of the question. And I would never knowingly bring them to a house where death has taken up residence."

Xing Dao was still standing stiff and straight in the center of the hall, but there was something about the shadows slipping over his features that spoke of defeat. Zhou Yu paused in his unwavering response and watched the silent visitor for a moment, studying the contours of his face and the darkness that the mention of death had stabbed through his eyes. Finally the strategist sighed, a silent exhale that drifted from his lips in confused curiosity.

"And… I would like to know who has requested the presence of my family in his dying hours."

Xing Dao smiled – a tight-lipped, fallen smile that didn't reach his eyes. Then he laughed, and the softly conquered sound trailed across the distance between them to send a plunge of uncertainty into the swordsman's stomach. The general shook his head.

"An old friend."

Zhou Yu's eyes narrowed – and then they shot wide with shock, growing impossibly as his breath stopped and every muscle in his body tightened to its breaking point. The swordsman stared into Xing Dao's waiting countenance with his mouth halfway open and any semblance of rational thought disintegrating. The envoy nodded at his unspoken thoughts. Zhou Yu swallowed hard.

Because there was only one old friend of Xing Dao's who would have any interest in Wu's stunned strategist.

"My father… is dying?"

Xing Dao nodded gently. "He will not last much longer."

Somehow it had never occurred to him. Even the death of Sun Jian hadn't brought the trailing thought that someday his own parents would leave the earth for the afterlife. The strategist stared openmouthed at their unwanted envoy, at a complete loss for what to say as Sun Ce shot him a wary backward glance and Xing Dao shook his head.

"I have spent the majority of the last six years in Shucheng, watching Zhou Fan grow old too quickly and become sicker with every passing month." The general's eyes were hard as black diamonds in his face, glittering with accusation as he spoke. "You destroyed him when you refused to stay – and your brother Qi's departure only a few days later was more than he could take. He spent weeks in bed before your mother could even coax him to stand again."

Zhou Yu felt a writhing weight of deadly responsibility settling into his stomach even as Sun Ce stepped forward, anger clear on his tan features. "Hey – this isn't Yu's fault," the young officer snapped, both hands tightly fisted at his side. "It doesn't have anything to do with him. Don't try to guilt-trip him into going back to those—"

"I assure you that is not my intention." Sun Ce's jaw snapped shut at the envoy's firm interruption, and Zhou Yu started slightly at Xing Dao's unexpectedly forceful tone. The hardened general glared at them both and shoved the raven hair away from his eyes, scoffing under his breath as his expression soured into a vague scowl. "If I had my choice, I would never have brought you this message – because I don't believe you have the right to return to Shucheng, after fracturing your family the way you did."

That, Zhou Yu had not expected. Any response he might have found deserted him at the startling words, even as the Sun lord growled and his shoulders tensed under the cascade of his chestnut ponytail. "You know what? We really don't need your opinion around here. You said what you came to say – so how about getting out of my city before I lose my temper and throw you out myself?"

Xing Dao shook his head and bowed insincerely, taking one step backward toward the exit even as his eyes stayed locked on the swordsman who had said nothing at all. The general hesitated just at the threshold, his tone far more decisive than his feet.

"As you wish." Zhou Yu met the messenger's charcoal gaze evenly, keeping his face blank and solemn despite the intensity riding in Xing Dao's eyes – but there was an uncomfortable emotion twisting through his stomach, and he couldn't ignore the barbs that seemed to be striking his ribcage from within as their envoy slowly reached for the door handle.

Was it truly his fault? Would Zhou Fan have lived heedlessly for years longer without the stress of a broken household? Had the strategist destroyed his father and Xing Dao in one strike, when he chose Sun Ce and the people in Jiang Dong over his blood family? Zhou Yu shook his head to will the questions away – but his anxiety showed on his face, and Xing Dao paused with one hand against the doorframe, unblinking stare burning into the irresolute obsidian eyes as he found his words again.

"As I've said, Zhou Yu… I don't believe you have the right to return to your father. But he does not agree with me on this point. He begged me to find you and bring you back, one last time…" Zhou Yu bit down on his tongue, stalling the wave of guilt that threatened to swallow him. Xing Dao shook his head and continued more quietly. "I am not going to drag you back to Shucheng. I am currently on my way south, and I have no time to waste on convincing you. But I would ask you to consider his request seriously before you ignore it. Even if you do not love your family, you have an obligation to them – an obligation you have neglected until now."

Sun Ce scowled at the hated familiar argument and stamped one foot decisively, but Zhou Yu felt his pulse pounding against his ribcage at the words that struck him somehow. Without waiting for the Sun lord's forthcoming rebuke, Xing Dao shoved the far door open harder than necessary and moved into the hallway beyond the audience chamber, startling the guards posted outside that entrance and pausing on the threshold only long enough to meet the onyx eyes over his shoulder once more.

"Please consider how he will feel if he has to die knowing that his eldest son has abandoned him."

And then the man was gone, striding stiffly down the corridor and vanishing into the shadows of the hallway without a dash of hesitation. Sun Ce ran for the door and slammed it shut, holding onto the handles so tightly that his knuckles whitened and glaring at the painted wood as though it were personally responsible for the infuriating envoy.

"Good riddance! Get out of here! And don't come back!"

The Little Conqueror's passionate shout echoed around the carefully decorated walls, a last seal to the argument. For a moment, neither officer moved, both of them locked in the dissipating tension of the audience chamber. Then the Sun lord turned slowly back to his strategist, features melting from anger to uncertainty at the preoccupied expression that had captured the swordsman's pale face.

"…Yu?"

Zhou Yu said nothing. He dug his fingernails into the flesh of his palms and swallowed hard against the chaos of indecipherable emotion racing inside his mind – then he turned on heel and left the room without another word, deserting his wary companion in the middle of the rich carpet.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

Sun Ce's voice barely registered. The second door crashed open under his hands and the corridor flashed by on each side of the strategist as quick strides drove him down one hallway and then another, mind too jumbled to permit thought at all or give reason a foothold to regain control. Zhou Yu hurtled into his office like a typhoon, his movements as rough as the tempest of conflicting emotions rushing through every part of him in the deafening echoes of Xing Dao's words as any control he'd still held disintegrated between his fingers.

After fracturing your family—

The swordsman slammed the door shut behind himself and lurched forward, hitting his desk hard and falling into his chair almost on accident. Suddenly all motion stopped – for a long moment, Zhou Yu listened anxiously to the emptiness of his room, his flickering glance roving the papers before him and the unmade bed and the sunlight streaming through the window. Then he put his forehead down against the wood and closed his eyes, relishing the simple darkness behind his eyelids – the only sensical aspect of the disordered world that had swallowed him.

Knowing that his eldest son has abandoned him—

He will not last much longer—

The chaos of too many thoughts and too little focus pounded through his temples in an excruciating headache, and it was only with great effort that Zhou Yu braced his hands against the desk and forced himself to calm down. The shadows of induced darkness lurked before his unseeing eyes as the strategist struggled to still his pulse, shoving emotions away from the forefront and fighting the lump of culpability lingering in his stomach. One by one, the muddled mass of thoughts pushed and tumbled out of the center of his mind, allowing the swordsman to retake control of the heady dilemma as his heartbeat slowed and his eyes flickered open again.

Four deep breaths and a span of seconds later, he had found a starting point.

What was he going to do?

Zhou Yu lifted his head slowly from the surface of the desk and rested it resignedly in his hands, both thumbs working at the splitting headache beneath his temples. Somewhere outside his window, endless birdsong was drifting like a jeweled chain throughout the garden, weaving sunlight and harmony between the emerald boughs – but it did nothing to improve the strategist's mood or relieve the pressure pounding inside his skull as each emotion and angle of thought stabbed through the complicated question in turn. Zhou Yu closed his eyes again, blocking out the image of the luminous garden that contrasted so bluntly with the unwanted reality compressing every breath in his lungs.

In simple terms, he was going to do one of two things – he was going to go, or he wasn't. But there had never been anything simple about his family. The swordsman's unseeing gaze flickered between the various piles of reports cluttering his sturdy desk, and he reached out to fiddle with the end of a well-used brush as the morning breeze stirred long strands of hair against his neck and flickered through the unanticipated conflict, as haphazard and undecided as his thoughts.

He didn't want to go. That much was easy. He didn't want to see Xan and his mother again, or lay eyes on the sickly countenance that must have replaced his father's already weakened features, or walk the darkened hallways of his childhood home like the ghost son his decisions had made him. He didn't want to see the gardens shining in the summer sunlight or move with practiced discontent through Shucheng's quiet streets – and he didn't even want to think about Qi. But there was something about a dying wish that couldn't be dismissed that easily – something about Zhou Fan's last hope being reconciliation that tore a hole through the strategist's spine.

Why did the man want to see him anyway? Hadn't the swordsman made himself unavoidably clear about his less than conciliatory feelings toward his blood years ago, standing in the night's doorway and announcing his desertion? Didn't Zhou Fan understand that his eldest son had abandoned the family completely, without remorse or regret? What would his visit even accomplish, aside from driving the stake of guilt Xing Dao had planted yet farther into his stomach, where it could writhe between dislike and pity for the father he'd disregarded? The strategist stared hard into the dark wood of his desk as though it could grant the answers to his dilemma-driven questions.

Unless he had lost his mind and memory along with his failing health, Zhou Fan could not have forgotten his son's last departure. But knowing that, what could he hope to gain by looking into the distant onyx eyes as he died? Was he truly that desperate to put the quarrel to rest? Or had he simply blocked out the fracture entirely, building an elaborate fantasy of well-being in the dim contours of his mind?

Zhou Yu dropped his head back into his hands and sighed heavily, the depth of the morning slipping like a wish across his tongue as his attempt at rationality only made the headache worse. He didn't want to go – but some part of him felt like he had to, like the obligation of family couldn't be dismissed that easily. Like he owed it to his father to at least watch the man's progression into the afterlife, even if honest grief would find no harbor inside of him. But Zhou Yu knew that his return to Shucheng would be miserable, and that he would find no more peace in the sheltered valley than if he remained in Wu and ignored the request. Where did that leave him? Which choice presented the lesser of two evils?

Tap tap tap.

"Yu?"

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. There were only so many places in the palace that the swordsman was known to seek refuge, and the Sun lord had no doubt been fairly close on his heels when he bolted from the audience chamber. Slowly, Zhou Yu raised his head from the cradle of ten tense fingers and watched the door in silence as it slid back from its frame. Sun Ce's cautious face appeared in the created opening and blinked at him, one hand still on the door while the other twisted through the silk of his shirt. The young officer tipped his head curiously to the side.

"…Can I come in?"

Zhou Yu said nothing, but his eyes moved back to the tangle of his fingers as both hands entwined and came to rest before his chin, elbows braced against the desktop as though furniture alone could grant him stability. Sun Ce waited another moment before slipping through the partly open door and moving to perch on the desk corner, both legs swinging softly through the terse silence. The swordsman couldn't bring himself to meet the dimly inquisitive gaze roaming his face, and he stared out across the chaos of his room as the Little Conqueror ran a quick hand through his ponytail and reached out to find his companion's shoulder.

"So…" Zhou Yu's eyes flickered up to their amber opposites before skidding back to the mound of scrolls piled before him. Sun Ce sighed, tapping the strategist's knee with one encouraging foot. "Tell me about it."

The dark swordsman blinked, preoccupied stare winding its slow way up to the blankly urging features. The chaos of unwanted emotion spiraling inside his ribcage almost prompted a cutting retort at the halfway patient look on the Sun lord's face, but Zhou Yu caught himself and bit his tongue. The strategist forced his gaze away from the waiting countenance and glared hard at the wood of his desk, thoroughly ignoring the insistent pushes of a leather boot against his knee. The anger wasn't meant for Sun Ce – and there was no sense in lashing out when the young officer was just trying to help. Zhou Yu gritted his teeth and pushed the words back into the depths of his emotional tempest, barely circumventing his frustration to respond civilly.

"There's nothing to tell you."

Nothing he didn't already know. But the swordsman could almost feel Sun Ce rolling his eyes, and a light squeeze on his shoulder confirmed the young lord's disagreement. "Yeah, sure – I've got a general idea what's going on inside your head. How about some details?"

Zhou Yu felt his frown deepening at the flippant tone, and he leaned forward to bury his head in his hands as the interminable headache flared behind his temples. The strategist sighed, digging ten fingers into the depths of his dark hair and closing his eyes uselessly against the expectant silence that closed around them like a heavy fist.

"What does it matter?"

He could hear Sun Ce scooting closer across the surface of the desk, and a stack of papers ruffled mildly as the young lord reached out to grab his swordsman's forearm with both hands.

"Yu…" Zhou Yu said nothing, shaking off the Little Conqueror's grip and pulling away from the insistent fingers as they reached out to reestablish contact. The Sun lord huffed and kicked his shin. "Hey! Look at me."

Slowly, the deeply troubled obsidian eyes rose to find their amber counterparts, and Zhou Yu watched as the thin line of irritation skidding through Sun Ce's expression melted into an encouraging half-smile. The young officer shook his head and leaned forward, dropping both hands heavily onto his swordsman's tight shoulders and moving them across the tense muscles in a vague massage. The Sun lord sighed through his smile.

"It's okay. You don't have to go – no one's making you."

Zhou Yu swallowed, lips pressing into a thin line as he shook his head and closed his eyes against the renewed headache pulsing behind each temple. "It's not that simple," he muttered, voice rough with the conflicting impulses peppering his stomach. Sun Ce scoffed under his breath, restless hands tightening in the folds of his strategist's shirt.

"Sure it is. You don't want to go, right?" He didn't have to wait for the swordsman's short nod. "So don't go. That's all there is to it." Twin amber eyes glittered brilliantly in the Sun lord's encouraging face as he shook his head and moved his thumbs in gentle circles over the strategist's tense muscles. "Why do you always make these things harder than they have to be?"

Zhou Yu sighed heavily, scowling almost ruefully at his companion's idly appropriate question. "I don't know, Ce," he answered honestly, tipping farther into the cradle of his knotted hands and feeling every fleeting pressure of the young officer's fingertips. The swordsman bit his lip hard, struggling to control the turmoil still whirling senselessly beneath his ribs as a jagged exhale slipped past his tongue. "But I… I don't know if I can leave it at that."

Sun Ce straightened a little at the resistive response, gaze shading curious as he withdrew his hands in surprise from the sullen shoulders and studied the dark frown coloring his strategist's lips. "Whoa, hang on… you're not actually thinking of going, are you?" Zhou Yu's silence was far more informative than any answer he might have given, and the Sun lord snatched his soundless swordsman's sleeves as shock flitted openly through his widened eyes. "Are you kidding me? Go back to Shucheng? After all this time?"

The strategist sighed, rubbing at the headache roiling in his temples and gesturing vaguely to the flawless sky somewhere above them. "…He is my father, Ce." And he was – in blood, if nothing else. Perhaps it didn't matter to the dying man that he couldn't truly have the strategist's compassion. Perhaps Zhou Fan deserved at least the right to a last request of his eldest son, if he couldn't hope for grieving rites and the commitments of a filial child…

Sun Ce scoffed tactlessly, crossing both arms firmly over his chest and fixing the solemn swordsman with a disbelieving stare. "Yeah – hardly. You don't even like him. You can't tell me you actually want to see him."

Zhou Yu couldn't. The strategist shook his head and swallowed a deep breath, wondering distantly how many people he'd be willing to kill for the alleviation of his driving headache at that moment. Twin obsidian eyes glanced up into the young officer's skeptical gaze before spattering back to the overflowing desk. "He's family."

The Sun lord snorted under his breath, posture becoming mildly defensive with irritation. "What's that got to do with it? You don't owe him anything, Yu – so don't even start with that. If you say the word obligation, I swear…"

Zhou Yu shook his head again sharply, cutting the familiar tirade off as a trickle of irritation dashed through him. Perhaps his vacillating hesitation did have to do with a sense of obligation to the man who had raised him, distantly or not – but that was a perfectly valid consideration in the swordsman's mind, regardless of his companion's rebellious opinion on familial piety and devotion. The strategist raised his dark eyes to meet Sun Ce's challenging gaze and frowned heavily, one hand prodding the insistent headache taking up residence inside his skull.

"It's not as easy as you make it sound. I…" There wasn't truly a way to structure his counterargument – not on the basis of the conflicting thoughts still swirling through his mind. But Sun Ce seemed to understand his intended statement anyway, and the young officer's eyes widened in his contrary countenance before he slid forward abruptly, abandoning his desk perch and landing hard beside the seated strategist. Sun Ce grabbed both of Zhou Yu's shoulders in a tight grip and shook them, scowling under his flurried bangs at the swordsman's unresolved expression.

"Come on, Yu – snap out of it! Don't let them get to you like this!" The Little Conqueror's chestnut ponytail smashed back and forth with the motion of his head, vaguely matching his companion's troubled pulse as two bright amber eyes locked onto their onyx counterparts. "You don't really believe Xing Dao, do you? This isn't your fault! You haven't even seen your father in years!"

Zhou Yu pressed his lips into a firm line, glance straying to his hands where they littered the dark wood like marble carvings. "Maybe that's the problem, Ce." His words were barely a whisper, and they disappeared into the light morning wind as a sheet of steel gravity seemed to cut across his features. The strategist felt his fingers knotting into restless fists as the depths of guilt-ridden responsibility dropped into his stomach again like lead weights and colored his words. "If I'd stayed in Shucheng…"

If he'd stayed in Shucheng, he'd have been left with nothing. Everything important he had gained through the years would have been untouchable, impossible to retain under different circumstances. But there was never a way to stop the endless stream of unknown possibilities from…

"Augh!" Sun Ce's cry shattered the tensely waiting air of the study like a thousand piercing needles, and Zhou Yu jumped in his seat as the young lord's eyes adopted a fierce glare that seemed to writhe with the fire of the sun itself. Sun Ce shook his head violently and threw himself into a kneel, locking both arms tightly around the strategist's neck despite their awkward position and pulling Zhou Yu close enough that he could almost count the flickering flames of impatience searing through the impulsive officer's expression.

"Ce?" His voice seemed too quiet after his companion's vibrant shout; the Sun lord huffed in frustration, his close breath ghosting over the swordsman's lips like an angry thunderstorm.

"I can't even believe you," the Little Conqueror accused heatedly, tangling his fingers into the long strands of his companion's dark hair. "One moody envoy shows up with a message from your father, and now suddenly you wish you'd never come with me at all? Is that how little everything we've worked for means to you?" Zhou Yu blinked, caught off guard by the impassioned words and the smoldering embers wringing through that hard amber stare.

"I didn't say that," he protested softly, holding his gaze steady despite the sheer energy flowing through the young officer's glare. Sun Ce scoffed.

"Well, that's what it sounded like. So say what you mean, or don't say anything at all!" Something the swordsman couldn't quite place flickered through the Sun lord's expression, and he leaned closer until their noses were almost touching, his voice dropping with the shadows invading his demanding eyes. "Do you really wish you'd stayed in Shucheng?"

"No." The strategist didn't even feel his mouth moving before the answer split the air around them, tugging at his companion's lips in a small smile before Sun Ce shook his head and his fierce frown returned unhindered.

"Then why do you want to go back now? There's nothing for you in Shucheng – we both know that!"

Zhou Yu swallowed hard, images of his long-forsaken hometown slipping through the untamed hurricane of thoughts beneath each temple. Zhou Fan, Lady Cai, Xan… it was true that he'd vowed never to set foot in the sheltered valley again. Never to concern himself with the people in the green folds of that lush river city. Never to look back. But nonetheless…

Sun Ce sighed heavily into the unanswered silence, pressing his forehead against the strategist's as best he could from his unusual position and tightening his grip. "Come on, Yu… you're just going to make yourself miserable. You know that, right?"

Zhou Yu nodded slowly, and his eyes slipped closed to block out the vision of the sunlit window and a bough of jade leaves rustling in the quiet wind just beyond them. Qingshan seemed so peaceful, so beautiful compared to the turmoil he could almost feel lurking above his family manner and waiting to shatter anyone who set foot on the cursed grounds. Returning to Shucheng couldn't be easy – and there was a part of him still resisting the idea entirely, the part that recognized Sun Ce's words as the unavoidable outcome of his requested visit. But there was another part, too – a part that believed in obligation, in responsibility. A part that warned him of his inability to let things go…

"I know, Ce." His words were hardly more than a sigh, and the swordsman opened his eyes slowly to survey their doubtful opposites from the limited distance between them. Zhou Yu shook his head. "But if I don't… if I refuse to see him… this will torment me. You have to know that, too."

He could already feel it – the stiff mercury drifting through his veins like an ominous promise, like there was no choice in this matter for which he would not suffer. In the end, a dying wish was not a light matter – and though Zhou Fan truly carried little weight in his son's eyes, he was a parent nonetheless. The family couldn't be reunited – not now. But perhaps they could stand together long enough to lie, to send the noble of Shucheng from his deathbed without too many regrets. Perhaps that much, at least, he owed his father.

Sun Ce sighed heavily, his posture slumping toward the thick rug as he shook his head and moped up at his quiet strategist. "I guess that means you're going, huh?" Zhou Yu nodded gently, feeling the pull of ten restless fingers in his hair even at the small motion. The Sun lord huffed, his lips melting into a crooked smile. "I swear, you've got the market cornered on making yourself unhappy. Even Lu Meng's not this good."

The swordsman smiled too, just a little, and felt the rush of tumbling uncertainty ebbing away from his temples to be replaced only by vague foreboding. There was no way of knowing whether he had truly made the correct decision – but making a decision at all seemed to pull the maelstrom of emotions away from his ribcage and condense it, driving the gnawing guilt into a corner of his mind where it couldn't completely overwhelm him. The dark strategist exhaled softly and shook his head, lips just barely quirking upward at the corners as his preoccupied hands settled onto his lord's shoulders.

"That's why you're here, isn't it? To stop me?"

Sun Ce grimaced lightly, his amber eyes reflecting the brilliant sunlight that seemed to peer through the open window as though waiting for an end to the conflicted debate. "Yeah – thanks for making my job that much harder." A tiny huff escaped the Sun lord's pursed lips as they relaxed into a sincere smile; the young officer straightened to a standing position and moved behind his strategist, wrapping both arms tightly around the captured shoulders. "Which is exactly why I have to come with you."

Zhou Yu blinked – then his eyes widened and he craned his neck backward, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of his companion's no doubt grinning countenance. "What? Come with me?" The swordsman shook his head firmly and glared down at his desk in place of the laughing amber eyes, chastising the dark wood as his voice sharpened in reprimand. "Ce, don't be ridiculous—"

"I'm not being ridiculous!" Zhou Yu couldn't see the Sun lord in his lurking stance behind the chair, but he didn't have to witness the young officer's expression to perceive the pleased undertone of his interruption. Sun Ce squeezed his stiff strategist in a tight hug and rested his chin on one taut shoulder, chestnut hair tickling the back of the pale neck. "If I don't go, you're going to come back here so grumpy and depressed that I'll never get you to smile again. No thanks. It's best if we just make it a vacation, kind of – and then I can knock some sense into you whenever you get too gloomy."

Traveling to Shucheng to bear the rasping words of his father's dying breath didn't sound much like a vacation to Zhou Yu, and his previously clearing countenance dissolved back into a stern scowl at the idea of dragging Sun Ce with him to the unavoidably serious confrontation. Not to mention the disruption the Little Conqueror's departure would cause in Wu… "You can't, Ce. You have responsibilities here."

What would Han Dang say at the thought of his lord leaving the Wu Territory so soon after an assassination attempt? And what would happen if Taishi Ci requested aid while they were gone? Their army was spread too thin across the vast region as it was, and removing the commander in chief from his area of influence could hardly be a good development. But Sun Ce apparently disagreed, and he slumped forward until he could catch the disagreeing onyx gaze with his own, tipping his head imploringly to the side so his ponytail swept across his swordsman's solemn shoulders.

"Don't be such a hard hat, Yu. It'll only be a week or two, right? They can spare me that long. We're not doing anything important here anyway." The Sun lord leaned forward and nuzzled his strategist's neck, sending a tiny shiver down Zhou Yu's back at the slight contact. "Come on. Wouldn't it be more fun if we both went?"

The swordsman shook himself hard, forcing the flitting sensation away and preparing to inform his companion just how little the trip had to do with fun in the first place – but a thought stopped him halfway and narrowed his eyes. Zhou Yu twisted far enough to capture the amber gaze with his own suspicious one and felt a light scowl suffusing his features.

"You just want to get out of meeting with the envoys, don't you?"

Sun Ce grinned, shrugging a little at the grounded accusation. "That might be a fringe benefit. But it's not why I'm going, I promise." Zhou Yu rolled his eyes.

"Of course not." But it was hard to believe, considering what the Sun lord had been known to do in order to get out of a boring political encounter. It couldn't be too many years ago that he'd spent an afternoon hiding out under Fu Chun's bridged causeway to avoid a few of Yuan Shu's esteemed dinner guests…

Sun Ce squeezed the strategist and leaned into him, letting his chest lie easily against the tense shoulders under his silken sleeves. The young officer sighed comfortably. "Okay – but even if that's part of it, I really do want to go with you." Zhou Yu couldn't help his thin, ironic smile.

"You won't be happy once we're there, Ce. It'll be far worse than all of the envoys put together…" The strategist exhaled softly, melancholy flitting through his dark eyes and blocking out the sunlight. Nothing in Shucheng would be enjoyable – it couldn't be. Not when the shadow of his broken family waited in the deceptively green folds of the forsaken valley.

But Sun Ce just laughed, a mellow and easy sound that echoed through the warm air like a temple bell. "Nah – it won't be that bad." The Sun lord gave his swordsman an encouraging smile, bright as the sun and twice as strong, as he pressed his face back into the pale curve of Zhou Yu's neck. "I won't let it be."

There was nothing to say to that – and for a long moment, neither of them did, held motionless in the harmonizing strands of birdsong and light breeze ricocheting between the walls. Zhou Yu took a deep breath and swallowed the stifled sunbeams, leaning back in the restless officer's embrace and watching the flickering emerald branches outside the window. Sun Ce's sighing exhale tickled his skin like a slowly teasing feather, traveling steadily back and forth across his flesh as the clouds moved and everything else just waited.

Then the strategist blinked, thought returning abruptly as a stray curiosity crossed his mind. Zhou Yu turned slightly and glanced back into the muzzed nest of chestnut hair at his shoulder, brow furrowing slightly under the train of his idle inquiry.

"Ce?"

Sun Ce mumbled lazily into his companion's neck, his noncommittal response tickling almost as much as each soft breath escaping his lips. The swordsman frowned.

"How many Lu Mengs does it take to make a bottle of wine?"

The strategist could feel his lord blinking against the pale skin, and then Sun Ce straightened, a small smile slipping over his countenance at the mention of his earlier puzzle. The Sun lord laughed lightly. "Oh – that. Well, it's actually kind of a trick question. It only takes one."

Zhou Yu frowned, furrows of concentration marring his forehead. "Why just one?" It seemed like the process of creating wine had to require more than two hands…

Sun Ce snickered. "Because Lu Meng's a really spectacular whiner all on his own."

And although he had to roll his eyes at the sheer absurdity of the riddle, Zhou Yu found himself almost chuckling as he shook his head and grasped the Little Conqueror's wrist with five pale fingers. "That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Ce," he informed the young officer flatly. Sun Ce snorted incredulously and elbowed him in the ribs.

"That's a lie and you know it. Quan tells amazingly worse jokes than I do. And I'd like to see you do better on short notice – wouldn't recognize humor if it came up and bit you."

The Sun lord poked his strategist squarely in the stomach to settle their loose argument and straightened abruptly, stretching languidly above his head as he dodged the swordsman's half-hearted attempt to grab him. The Little Conqueror tossed Zhou Yu a cheeky smile over one shoulder as he headed for the door, saluting smartly and winking back at the unmoving obsidian eyes.

"I'll go talk to Han Dang – let him know we're going out of town for a while. Maybe that'll give you a chance to get through all the paperwork I didn't finish this morning."

"You—"

But Zhou Yu's displeased growl fell on deaf ears – Sun Ce darted out of the room almost before his words could register with his still-seated companion. The strategist sighed and leaned back in his chair, glowering at the empty doorway even as a slight smile threatened his expression. Zhou Yu shook his head.

"Little idiot," he finished into the thick summer air, tone markedly lacking in malice as the memory of Sun Ce's fierce smile burned through his mind. But the silence around him soon chased any vestige of amusement from his pale features, and the swordsman rested his clenched fists quietly on the desktop, studying his white knuckles and the searing sunlight scattered between his scrolls.

He had vowed never to return to that family, to that fertile river valley – but as he grew older, Zhou Yu realized that most promises were made to be broken, and this was simply one more pledge to be added to the list of shattered oaths littering the battlefield of his life. The strategist rose stiffly from his chair and ran a distracted hand through his hair, obsidian gaze straying to the freedom of the window for a lingering moment before resettling on the wall ahead – painting the shadows of beating hooves across the plaster as though it were truly the mirage of an unseen future.

Zhou Yu sighed, leaning forward to gather his vital scrolls into a small bundle. It was time to go home – no, just to go back.

Back to Shucheng.

End Chapter 36

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This chapter is kind of long for really just serving as a prelude to the next one – but that's the way it goes. The beginning of this chapter also serves to clear up a tremendous mistake I made earlier in the story regarding Hailing's age. I hope summer has been enjoyable for everyone, and comments or suggestions are always appreciated.

A note for Dragon Scales 13: Well, I'm not quite sure why Lady Qiao's reference to "a gentle man" made you think of Zhou Yu – generally 'gentle' isn't a word I'd use with him, since he's very serious and has a fairly short temper. She hasn't met him yet, but Lady Qiao's interest in a gentle man is my precursor to the reason I like her and Lu Xun as a pairing, which doesn't actually have that much of a part in this story. Lu Xun seems like a very gentle person to me – softer than the Lady Qiao I've chosen to personify, really. Anyway, I'm flattered to be added to your favorites list, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.

A note for Ever Kitsune: You have a point – Sun Ce does seem to get sick often, doesn't he? Hmm – perhaps I'm slipping. In any case, I haven't yet had a chance to read your story "Dancing with the Blossoms," and I'll admit the premise worried me a little – since I get kind of touchy about Zhou Yu being portrayed effeminately – but I will read your work at a later point and certainly give you my opinion. Thank you for continuing to read my story – your comments are always appreciated.

A note for Jen: I'm sure your sister appreciates not having to shove medicine down your throat like Shang Xiang did for Sun Ce. I did try to give Lady Qiao some character development in that chapter, because as you say she's been somewhat flat up until now – but it was difficult, since she and Zhou Yu don't react very vibrantly together. In any case, I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope this chapter also served to amuse you.

A note for Hello Kitty JDB: I'm glad you enjoyed it. Sun Ce's not exactly thrilled with his daughter, predictably – but the man wasn't really cut out for fatherhood. Thank you for taking the time to review.

A note for xxxLOVEtheSINNER: You have a fascinating penname. I hope this chapter answered your questions about Yingmei's status as Sun Ce's daughter and her adoption into the family. I'm glad you enjoyed the insight into Lady Qiao's character – which, admittedly, might not happen again, as it was very difficult for me to play her and Zhou Yu off of each other. In any case, thank you for reviewing, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.