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.

38. Chapter 38

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 37

It wasn't much, but he had managed to staunch the bleeding.

Chen Hao sat up slightly from his crouch and released the general's forearm, drawing back five shaking fingers coated in the leaking crimson of the laceration's tainted bandages, and brushed a line of perspiration away from his chilled temple. The canvas dressing had finally stopped seeping over his worried hands – and from the crusting black gathering around Zhou Yu's mouth, the soldier assumed his general's lip had also managed to clot, swelling under the skin into a thick bruise that he could almost see even through the dim light of the dying night.

The canvas wasn't perfect, and he had nothing to dull the pain he could almost feel wringing through Zhou Yu's elevated heartbeat – but it was the best he knew how to do. Chen Hao was only a common soldier, and there had been very little medical training in his preparation for war. Instinct, panic, and vague memory had directed his efforts to help the injured general, and under the pressure of these sensations he could do no more. Still, there was some small comfort to be taken from the clotting laceration – a limited consolation in the knowledge that at least Zhou Yu would not bleed to death. Chen Hao let out the deep breath festering in his lungs and leaned back on his heels, gaze drifting uncertainly to the dangerously pale contours of his commander's face as the tiny spark of hope in his stomach scuffed and vanished.

Zhou Yu's eyes were halfway open – but except for the heavy-lidded obsidian stare and the short, trembling breaths moving past his thin lips, he could have been a corpse. Blood had dried all across the lower half of the general's face like a flaking shadow; the long strands of his dark hair streaked haphazardly across the floor beneath his head and stuck to his coldly sweating face, bitter and disordered. His injured arm rested at an unnatural angle in Chen Hao's lap, held steady against the soldier's stomach to prevent involuntary movement, and the other limb was locked ineffectually over his bandaged chest, no doubt struggling to hold off the pain of bashing his arrow wound into the wagon's side. The general wasn't moving – and from the soldier's perspective, his eyes seemed to die with each drawn inhale.

Chen Hao swallowed hard as his glance traveled across the desecrated features, darting quickly among the pre-dawn shadows to avoid fixating on any one fraction of the disastrous image. Zhou Yu hadn't looked well before the accident – now, Chen Hao couldn't help dreading each breath that filled his commander's lungs, because every one felt like it ought to be the last.

"It took two weeks…"

The soldier jumped a little, his gaze shooting back to the general's features at the croaking whisper. Zhou Yu's eyes were focused squarely on his face, and Chen Hao felt himself almost cringing at the intensity of his onyx stare. The struggling commander choked on the syllables drifting over his tongue and winced, his uninjured hand reaching uselessly for the soldier's shoulder as though to force his complete attention before dropping back to the blood-spattered bandages covering his torso.

"Two weeks… to reach Shucheng."

It was incomprehensible. How could Zhou Yu focus on his story in the midst of this sea of unwanted crimson, with pain shooting through his arm and along his lips – how could he even speak when each word tore raw and jagged at his throat as it spilled into the frigid air?

"Han Dang was displeased, but… we left almost immediately. I didn't want to linger outside Wu for long. Of course… traveling with Sun Ce always meant delays."

Chen Hao bit his chapped lips, digging his teeth sharply into the splitting skin as the last remnants of the cold night wind drifted through his scattered bun and sent a shiver down Zhou Yu's spine. He wanted to ask what kind of delays they had met, and what Han Dang had said upon hearing of their departure, and ten thousand other questions that the previous portion of the story had inspired – but he swallowed hard and forced them back down his throat, watching the wavering light in the general's eyes with a feeling like tragedy pooling beneath his ribcage. There was no time anymore – no time for idle curiosities and the details that seemed so precious, so concrete. Precious like the Mahjongg tiles from a broken wall…

"We rode west along the Yangzi, past Jianye, and north toward He Fei…"

Chen Hao ground his free hand into a fist and gritted his teeth, desperation clouding his ears and making the coarsely whispered words yet harder to understand. Was there even time for the main thread of the story? What if they'd already lost the chance to finish? What if Zhou Yu no longer held the strength to fulfill his promise, the spirit to complete his tale before the night wind and the dawn of the coming sun drove him into the afterlife? The fire in his obsidian eyes had been fading all night long – what if there was too little left to string the necessary events together? The soldier's throat tightened inexplicably at the thought, contracting in time to his pulse as his commander smirked slightly through the blood tainting his lips.

"If there were time, I would…"

But there was no time. And if there wasn't time to reach a conclusion, to lay Zhou Yu's chronicle peacefully to rest, what was the point of his struggling progression? Why not give the story up – let it fall senselessly aside, leave the soldier with the inevitably imperfect finale. What meaning could there be to the unceasing advance of harsh words through the thinning air? Defeat tore through Chen Hao's soul like five stinging fingers, catching in the weave and almost bringing frustrated tears to his charcoal eyes. If there were no time to finish, what was the use of hearing the narrative at all? The general might just as well have said nothing – have died hours ago with his lips firmly sealed – if the end of the story was out of reach anyway.

Zhou Yu was not privy to the surrendering thoughts of his subordinate, and he pushed forward past the pain Chen Hao could almost see searing across his mouth. "You don't know where He Fei is either…" The soldier bit down on his tongue, eyes narrowing in miseried submission to the impossible bleakness he felt pressing down against his chest. Why did it matter? Why should the general continue through the pain in his throat, since his goal couldn't be accomplished? Why struggle in vain?

The overwhelming feeling of hopelessness shattered through Chen Hao's eyes as Zhou Yu extended his shaking hand, struggling stare locked on the soldier's tight face. "Here… give me your palm…" And suddenly, he found he couldn't hold his words back anymore – he couldn't listen to the thread of a story soon to be broken another moment longer.

"Stop!"

The general started and blinked at his forceful denial – Chen Hao himself was surprised by the powerful vehemence scorching through his voice. He swallowed hard and drew himself up straighter, fighting and failing to maintain his strength of refusal in the face of Zhou Yu's surprised, suspicious eyes. "Please… just stop." This time his tone was softer, and he cursed the weakness practically audible amidst his words as the general drew his rejected hand back and dropped it clumsily onto his chest.

"…What's wrong?"

Chen Hao shook his head violently, willing the soft question away as though two simple words could break his faltering resolve. The soldier rushed an anxious hand across his forehead and bit down on his tongue, teeth grating together like river rocks as agitation fluttered between his ribs.

"It's too late. You can't finish now – we're too close to Han Ni Castle, and you're…" His voice wavered as his gaze spiraled across the injured general's crumpled form. Chen Hao squeezed his eyes shut, hands contracting into fists in his flickering sleeves as the tangled argument lost cohesion and his voice rose with fighting agitation. "So just stop – you don't have to keep going. Just stop and rest. It doesn't matter how much farther you get, because it's not going to be enough to—"

"Chen Hao."

Hearing his name from those fallen lips had been unnerving all night – but hearing it now was like heeding a voice from beyond the grave. Chen Hao's outburst stopped immediately, jumbling the remaining words senselessly over his tongue as silence superseded his racing emotions and filled the wagon. The general struggled to swallow and shook his head slightly, the rhythm of his pulse smooth and shallow under the soldier's worried hand as those dark eyes bored into his own with the force of a midnight thunderstorm.

"Let me speak."

But how could he, when agony tore across Zhou Yu's face like windswept clouds and each syllable was a choking, haunting croak? Chen Hao shook his head and his stiff neck cracked at the whiplash motion, scattering raven hair all across his tense shoulders in a wordless gesture of dissent. The general sighed, and despite his distress the soldier could almost hear irritation riding on the displeased exhale. Then Zhou Yu lurched up and snatched his shoulder, trembling but powerful fingers digging into the flesh of his jacket like locked talons.

"Would you ask me to die in silence?"

Chen Hao froze, each muscle stiffening as the obsidian glare burned into his defenseless eyes. And then he felt a tremendous surge of shame spiraling through his veins, flushing his cheeks despite the cold and plummeting his gaze to the warped floorboards. The soldier shrunk backward into a half-curled hunch and let the general's grip fall from his coat, unable to meet that commanding stare over the lip of his wrinkled jacket. Silence suffused the wagon and held for a long moment, echoing his unspoken embarrassment and the ebbing tide of Zhou Yu's fierce demand. The general sighed again, his uninjured hand drifting back to Chen Hao's elbow and winding into the thick cloth folds.

"Chen Hao… do you believe there is no worth in a… an unfinished goal? Do you believe that there is no more meaning to… to try and fail than to admit failure from the beginning?"

His subordinate blinked, confused by the coarsely whispered question. A moment's thought found Chen Hao unable to answer, torn first one way and then the other under the powerful thread of the general's query. Slowly, his flickering glance drifted back to the still, fallen form of Wu's legendary strategist, eyebrows knitting together in puzzled indecision as he leaned closer to Zhou Yu's faltering lips to catch the softened words.

"My lord…"

Zhou Yu's gaze was locked on the stars, flitting between the fading sparks like an unsettled moth through too many candles. "Sun Ce did not conquer China." The solid, indelicate assertion dropped into Chen Hao's stomach like a stone, making each breath difficult to swallow; the general frowned almost thoughtfully to himself. "He didn't even conquer half of it. He died before… before we could control any more than the Wu Territory." Zhou Yu considered his jagged, heartless words and stared hard at the startled soldier, some overpowering emotion lurking in his obsidian depths and pounding like a stake against Chen Hao's breastbone. The fallen strategist raised an eyebrow. "Will you tell me that he should not have tried? That he should have forsaken his dreams without even waiting to fail?"

The soldier swallowed, tongue just as dry and helpless to answer as it had been with the first question. His speechless gaze followed the gently curving corners of Zhou Yu's mouth as the general laughed to himself, shaking his head and wincing against his swollen lip.

"But it's even worse than that, isn't it?" he murmured, coarse words barely audible above the shifting breath of the wind. Chen Hao blinked, watching in silence as Zhou Yu brushed the scattered bangs away from his eyes and coughed heavily. "Trying to conquer China… following his dream. That was what killed him." The soldier felt a sharp breath stick in his lungs, blocking his throat as the general's gaze drifted back up to meet his own. "If he hadn't been… running around like that… making enemies… he could still be alive." The halting declaration settled into Chen Hao's ears like soft snow, sending a quiet shiver down his back and folding his legs closer against the morning cold. Zhou Yu chuckled, a dark and mirthless sound despite its low volume. "Do you think he should have been content? Followed in his father's footsteps… ruled Jiang Dong, and left the rest of the country alone?"

It was not a question that demanded an answer – the answer was floating through the tendrils of the darkened air already. Chen Hao pressed his lips together and shook his head, letting the simple motion speak for him as the general met his coal-black gaze and almost smiled.

"…I know what Ce would tell you." Zhou Yu turned his face away, staring blankly into the contours of the wooden side now darkened with his blood, and in the tight line of his mouth the soldier could imagine the dancing path of a red ribbon… "He'd tell you it's… an honor to have 'died trying' carved into your funeral altar." Chen Hao felt himself straightening with a shiver, eyes locked on the pale features as Zhou Yu ran a slow hand through his disheveled hair. "That if you never tried…" The general coughed and swallowed hard against his raw throat. "…How could you be anything but a failure?"

And that was all. Zhou Yu's eyes fell closed as he tucked his face carefully into the crook of his elbow, muffling a bout of coughing he could no longer seal behind his lips. Chen Hao sat back on his heels and listened to his commander's straining, hacking breaths in silence – for a long moment, nothing moved but the wind above them and the stars wheeling slowly through the sky. The soldier felt Sun Ce's determination almost seeping into him through the general's words; he let the warmth spread across his chilled skin before it dimmed to a single spark somewhere between his ribs. And he smiled.

Perhaps Zhou Yu wouldn't be able to finish his story – but he demanded the right to try. And it was not Chen Hao's place to tell his commander when to surrender, regardless of the moth-like worry building and fluttering in his stomach. It was simply his role to hear, and to remember, the last epic of a dying man. That, he could do.

That and one thing more.

Chen Hao pushed Zhou Yu's arm gently out of his lap and laid it against the splintered floor, halfway bowing as the general's obsidian eyes flickered open and shot him a curious glance. "I'm going to get some more water, my lord," he explained quickly, crawling for the back of the wagon on all fours and retrieving both empty canteens from their jumble in the corner. He could feel Zhou Yu's sharp gaze on his back, tracing the weary jacket wrinkles and the stiffness of rekindled confidence in pained contemplation.

"…Thank you."

Chen Hao smiled to himself. Then he shoved the containers into his ragged pockets and braced both hands on the end board, surveying his landing prospects with a thoughtfully knitted brow. The wagon had stopped right in the middle of the stream, of course – and though it was shallow, barely two hands deep at its center, the muddy riverbed seemed treacherous and the soldier wasn't eager to soak his already freezing feet. Another moment of survey showed that there was no help for it, however, and Chen Hao took a deep breath before flinging himself into the stream.

Even for the middle of the night, the water was startlingly cold. The soldier winced as it splashed through his pants and across the exposed skin of his ankles, drenching his shoes immediately and almost making him stagger from the sheer sting of the frigid stream against his flesh. Chen Hao hissed and slipped a little on the mossy expanse of river rocks beneath his uncertain feet, wishing half-heartedly that the river had been deep enough to reach without jumping in – but it was only an idle thought, and the soldier bent to complete his task after a scant few moments of adjusting to the temperature.

The cut on his finger, which he had all but forgotten about in the rush to staunch his commander's wounds, throbbed brightly as he dipped both flasks into the river, and Chen Hao bit his lip at the immense quantities of soil no doubt tainting the stream water. It's going to be silted – and it'll probably taste terrible. But there was nothing he could do about that, and the soldier knew it would matter little to Zhou Yu anyway. With injuries as severe as the struggling strategist's, a little dirt could hardly be a hindrance.

Would you ask me to die in silence?

Chen Hao winced at the memory of his general's words, hooking the first canteen on his belt and bending down to fill the second with preoccupied eyes. He hadn't meant to give up hope – to abandon Zhou Yu this close to the end of his story. But it just seemed so impossible, given the circumstances they had crashed into. The general could barely speak anymore – what were the odds of him completing the narrative he'd struggled through all night long? The soldier bit his cheek and splashed a little water on his face, straightening with more determination than he truly felt. No. If Zhou Yu wouldn't surrender, then neither would he – no matter where the last remnants of the dying night led them.

As he refastened each canteen cap in turn, Chen Hao's eyes strayed up the deceptively peaceful hill waiting in silence behind him, and he was surprised to see neither the drivers nor the horses moving across the steeply sloped expanse of treacherous gravel. The soldier frowned, a new flurry of concern lilting through his stomach as a second glance confirmed the first. No doubt the drivers had disappeared after their escaped horses – but to be out of sight already… how far could the infantrymen have gotten during the general's story? And would they even be able to catch the horses, now that both animals had been spooked so badly? What would happen to the small caravan if they couldn't?

Once again Chen Hao shook himself, forcing his attention back to the present despite the whirlwind of worried thoughts swirling through his mind. He was completely incapable of helping his comrades at the moment – he would have to trust them to recover the horses on their own. All he could do right now was fulfill his promise from so many hours ago: to listen to Zhou Yu's story, as long as it took. Chen Hao nodded hard to will the disrupting doubts away and turned back upstream, reaching for the wheel a short distance behind him and preparing to pull himself back into the wagon.

His hand got no farther than the hub. Wu's loyal soldier froze with his arm uselessly extended, gaze gripping the eastern horizon as though clinging to a last vestige of salvation. The soldier swallowed and took a step back, eyes wide and mouth open as he stared heedlessly into the far contours of the sky, his brief errand forgotten in a sudden rush of helpless astonishment.

It wasn't much yet – but something in the east was changing. Something was… getting lighter.

Chen Hao ground his hands into fists as his glance dashed back and forth across the gradually lightening horizon, chasing the new patch of navy and dark teal that had appeared along the base skyline. Purple clouds a vibrant plum were draped against the almost indiscernible apparition, trailing like great still scarves above the black earth that stretched forever in front of him. He couldn't be sure, because the distance was so great and the colors so vague – but it almost looked like a tiny line of red and yellow was lurking under the lip of the horizon, clashing with the indiscernible hues of the sky around it.

Chen Hao watched long enough to see the first unfurling edges of navy blue spread into the low-lying eastern sky – and then he turned and vaulted into the wagon, scraping his leg against the backboard in his heedless scramble. Zhou Yu started and sat up halfway from the warped floorboards, his obsidian gaze flashing around him in alarm as though expecting an enemy of some kind.

"What's… the matter?" A vicious cough tore his question in two, breaking the streamlined concern of his raw voice – but as far as the soldier was concerned, there was no time to answer anyway, and he scuttled to the general's side as quickly as he could.

"Nothing, my lord. Here – I brought the water."

Perhaps there truly was nothing significant about the coming dawn. But to Chen Hao, it seemed absolute. When the sun rose, Zhou Yu's story would be over – whether by choice or by the slowly tightening fingers of his poisoned murder.

The general stared at his subordinate suspiciously, eyes clearly confused about the hurried encouragement from a man who'd been demanding his story's recession only a matter of minutes before; the soldier forced his expression back to neutral and held the refilled canteen out expectantly. Finally Zhou Yu sighed and nodded, taking a deep mouthful of the offered water and swishing it between his teeth for a long moment as his onyx eyes drilled into the helpful charcoal of his audience. Then the general sat up slightly and spit across the weathered floorboards, sending a stream of blood-blackened water into the far corner of the wagon.

Chen Hao jumped at the unexpected action, and for a moment he wondered whether the water had truly been that horrible – but then Zhou Yu motioned for another drink, and the soldier realized his commander was simply doing what he could to cleanse his mouth. It didn't take long for the injured general to drain the first canteen, between his efforts at rinsing the blood from his face and neck and the heavy swallows that made him wince as they slid down his throat. For the first time, Chen Hao wondered whether Zhou Yu had become dehydrated during the journey – the original water supply had run out hours ago, and his commander had been struggling through his life story without pause. The soldier bit his cheek and tipped the second canteen gently forward, watching with remorse and concern as mouthful after painful mouthful of the silted liquid slid past the general's lips, and wondered whether two canteens would truly be enough.

At last the legendary strategist seemed satisfied, and he slumped back from his awkward position, head resting exhaustedly against the floor boards as his eyes slipped closed.

"Thank you."

Chen Hao nodded, a tiny smile skimming onto his lips. The general's voice was already sounding stronger – perhaps the murky water had done something to soothe his ragged throat, at least. Zhou Yu exhaled deeply as he turned his face into the shadows away from his waiting subordinate, and for a moment the soldier wondered whether he should refill the canteens while his commander rested – but he didn't get the chance to decide. Only two measured breaths filled the general's bruised and bloodied ribs before his eyes came open again, refocusing almost groggily on Chen Hao's countenance.

"Then I suppose… I should continue."

The soldier resisted the urge to glance east, determined to ignore the coming sun despite the nervous flutter of his pulse that implored haste toward the story's conclusion. He did his best to keep his features neutral as he nodded slowly, half of him almost wanting to encourage a longer pause for the burdened strategist's sake – but Zhou Yu seemed to read something in his face nonetheless, and the general squinted vigilantly at the fading sky above him as he found an order for the cascading stream of memories flowing through his words.

"I remember what it felt like. Entering Shucheng again… for the last time."

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The valley was nothing if not beautiful.

Tumbling walls adorned with oak and walnut trees in full emerald regalia stretched as far as the eye could see, cutting almost playfully between the lazy canyons and switchbacks of the high slopes and tickling the stomach of the endlessly blue sky above. Twisting clouds twinkled generously across the Yangzi tributary that sliced the landscape delicately in half, resting at the base of each slope as though it had simply toppled out of Heaven to lie effortlessly across the rolling landscape. Everywhere, birds flashed through the clear afternoon air and spread their cheerful songs over the rice farms that dotted the steepled steppes, the tiny figures of laborers just barely visible as they moved along the irrigated crests with natural purpose. And above all, the glowing orb of the sun dispersed its brilliant rays, warming every facet of the portrait vista with golden, fluent light and the promise of an eternally glistening summer.

It was an undeniably gorgeous afternoon… for the rest of the world.

If there was one feeling Zhou Yu hated most of all – beyond jealousy, beyond anger, beyond even shame – it was anxiety. Not the type of anxiety he was accustomed to – the tension of wondering where Sun Ce had gotten off to under the siege of war, or the stress of overdue reports and obnoxious envoys. There was certainly a less than pleasant association to the feeling of nervousness crawling through his stomach on those occasions, too, because the swordsman had never liked losing control over the circumstances surrounding him. But the worst kind of anxiety was different – it slid between his ribs and held like unhewn metal whenever he was confronted by a situation which he had no idea how to handle.

Like the situation confronting him now, as his horse cleared the final ridge and reached the last road crest overlooking the teeming valley. Wu's prodigal strategist sighed and reined his mount back hard, dark eyes flickering discontentedly among the scattered buildings below as the gentle breeze sifted past him and rustled the endless green leaves.

Some things never changed, really – Shucheng looked just as idyllic as the day he'd left it behind for good. Even from this distance, he recognized the twists of the peaceful streets: the small boat moor, the rollicking structure of a village tavern reconstructed too many times, the pooling saffron indicating the wide alley of the marketplace. Zhou Yu brushed at the strands of hair teasing his furrowed brow and let his shoulders slump from their riding position, feeling the tension of the unwanted journey almost painfully tight across his back. Now that they had finally reached the valley, it seemed as though the difficult part of their journey ought to have been over – but the premonition of a building headache behind each temple warned the strategist that the hazards of their fortnight arrival would be nothing compared to the actual visit.

It had not been an easy trip – partly because the weather oscillated between scalding sun and torrential rain, and partly because the swordsman had been physically forcing himself to continue every time they found reason to stop. The threat of a reunion with his family – coupled with the disconcerted and unwillingly culpable thoughts that Xing Dao's message had instilled in him – made Zhou Yu more than reluctant to keep riding throughout the two-week-long journey. He couldn't help it. There was nothing pleasant waiting for them in Shucheng, and every day's travel made his decision to see Zhou Fan seem more and more misguided. It had been a long time since the dark swordsman slept peacefully, free from subconscious demons – and he had become so restless at night that Sun Ce oscillated between locking his arms around the strategist's torso like pincers to prevent his sporadic tossing and just sleeping on the floor.

It was simply so hard to disregard the accusation. That his choices had brought death to his father so much before his time. That pursuing his own desires – adopting someone else's dream – had irreparably shattered the dreams of his blood family. It was that uncertain guilt that kept him up at night, and moved his feet in agitated paces across the silent floors of the taverns and inns where they stayed.

Zhou Yu shook his head mindlessly, banishing the stream of consciousness as his eyes moved unenthusiastically over the landscape and a sardonic smile slipped across his face. He had vowed not to consider Xing Dao's words anymore, because his agonizing contemplation only seemed to make things worse and there was no satisfactory answer to the unyielding question anyway. He was here in Shucheng now – he had come to fulfill his duty as Zhou Fan's eldest son, if that still were possible after so many years without a word or a backward glance. After this ordeal was over, he would refuse to look back… he would refuse to let the spirit of his abandoned father chase him any farther than the rim of the beautiful valley. There was too much at stake elsewhere – too much responsibility waiting in Sun Ce's empire alone.

It had been no small task to leave Wu, even for the relatively short absence that this hoped to be. Han Dang, for one, had been adamantly opposed to the Little Conqueror leaving his region while Liu Xun was causing so much trouble along the southern border, and any number of political difficulties had stalled their departure from Qingshan. Summer was the flooding season along the Yangzi, and the infernally fickle weather in the surrounding regions had made traveling yet more complicated – an unexpected thunderstorm one afternoon had forced immediate halt in a thicket bordering the dust-ridden northwest road, and the strategist and his companion had spent one extremely uncomfortable night among the nettles and crabapple branches when the rain refused to abate before sunset. It was ironic, really, that Shucheng should appear so brilliant upon their arrival, given how abysmally the climate had treated them during the long ride.

But no paradisic impression could truly suppress the anxiety swimming like a sea serpent through the strategist's stomach as his eyes moved unwillingly across the landscape, taking in every detail to slow the current of unrest picking at his heartbeat. Zhou Yu swallowed and felt his hands fisting in the leather reins as his gaze slid east, pausing just short of the most prominent hilltop and the expansive estate poised there like a crown, like the sense of foreboding writhing through his ribs…

"Wow – talk about a view, huh?"

The swordsman blinked a little, glancing away from the deceptively welcoming valley ahead to cast his companion a flat, solemn look. Zhou Yu was more than certain that nothing as effortless as a picturesque panorama could change his outlook on the village before them, and he was just as certain that his cheerful commander knew that. But the Little Conqueror just smiled at his ill-tempered officer and shook his head, urging his whickering horse closer until he could clap an encouraging hand on the strategist's shoulder and his sincere amber eyes caught their onyx opposites.

"Don't worry, Yu – we'll be out of here before you can say 'Gan Ning of the Ringing Terror' six times fast."

The swordsman almost smirked at the simple joke, but the feeling of anxious responsibility hovering in his chest dragged against his ribs and robbed his features of the hesitant expression before it could form. Zhou Yu shook his head, shadows of doubt falling across his features despite the sunshine grin on Sun Ce's face. "It's not going to be that easy," he warned softly, not for the first time. The Sun lord rolled his eyes and waved dismissively toward the rollicking hills ahead of them.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be. I vote we just drop in and then hit the road. Have a real vacation for the rest of the week. Would that be so bad?" His tone was halfway teasing, but there was an honest suggestion behind the flippant response as well, and it was this undercurrent that drew a heavy sigh from Zhou Yu's lips as he leaned back in the sharply curved saddle to consider the flawless sky.

If the swordsman had claimed that the infernally fickle weather were the greatest cause of delay during their journey, he would have been lying. Sun Ce had been just as disinterested as his despondent companion in reaching the sheltered valley, and considerably less taken with the feeling of obligation that hovered through the strategist's preoccupied mind. It hadn't escaped Zhou Yu's notice that the Sun lord was more than willing to latch onto any distraction that passed their way, as long as it promised to impede progress toward Shucheng – and for that the strategist could hardly fault him, since it was undeniable that his own temper deteriorated with each mile that slipped between them and the comfortable palace at Qingshan.

Sun Ce had tried all manner of hijinxs to improve his companion's continuously disintegrating mood – and when his ceaseless optimism failed to raise the swordsman's spirits out of the mud, he had done his utmost to detain them in the waylaid and forsaken villages nestled along their route. The young officer had spent the better part of the last two weeks dragging his heavily reluctant strategist through scores of curious peculiarities and ill-advised ventures, and although Zhou Yu couldn't find it in his heart to be grateful, he had to admit that the release of tension Sun Ce's familiar antics provided was probably the only reason he hadn't snapped already. There was something about the Sun lord's unrelenting smile – and sharp, judicious elbow – that forced the swordsman to lift his head from the weight of culpable responsibility pressing down on him, no matter how much a corner of his mind would prefer to slip into silence and let his problems overwhelm him.

But there was only so much the Little Conqueror could do. As the road brought them ever closer to Shucheng, Zhou Yu had wound tighter and tighter – and in a way, Sun Ce had wound with him, becoming shorter of temper and quicker to throw his hands up in the face of his strategist's anxious irritation. And now they had arrived; the inevitable couldn't be put off any longer. The soft summer wind trailed through the dark strands of Zhou Yu's hair as he brushed it away; his eyes moved grimly across the jewel-like structures of his family estate, scattered like a broken necklace over the emerald velvet of the hillside.

"I sent a letter accepting my father's last wishes." The swordsman could almost feel the hollowness of his discontented voice resounding against the fiber of his bones, and the words were dry as ashes in his mouth. A formal, concise letter – the first contact Zhou Fan had received from his son in nearly six years. Why was the man still waiting? Why had he summoned Zhou Yu at all? "I have vowed to fulfill his whims in the last few days of his life, and it is not a vow I intend to disregard—"

"Okay, okay!" Sun Ce raised his free hand in surrender and shook his head, fighting the bitter answer with his own relenting interruption. "I get it already. We're in this for the long haul." Twin amber eyes burned into their onyx counterparts as a slight frown stole over the young officer's face, snipping at the lines of laughter and sunlight usually so clear across his countenance. The Sun lord dug both hands into his reins and stared vaguely into the distance beyond Shucheng's rolling ridges. "I was just asking."

Zhou Yu watched his companion's quiet features for a long moment, studying the unaccustomed shadows lurking in his vibrant eyes. Then the swordsman sighed and looked out over the valley as well, one hand moving to banish his headache as the other gestured noncommittally to the path in front of them.

"If it takes too long, Ce… you could always—"

"Don't even think about it." The strategist blinked at his companion's forceful tone, glance straying back to the determined expression on the Sun lord's unsmiling face. Sun Ce shook his head in easy dismissal. "I'm not leaving you here by yourself. You'd come home even more moody and broody than you are now – so you're stuck with me for the long haul, too."

Zhou Yu opened his mouth to respond, but it fell closed again in silence, leaving the uncertain words unsaid in the brilliant afternoon air. In a way, it seemed better to send the young lord back to Wu – it was his kingdom, and his dream, and Heaven only knew how long it could function without him. But the strategist also knew his commander was right – losing Sun Ce's vibrant presence could only worsen his already deteriorating mindset. Wu's dark swordsman pressed his lips into a thin line and stared toward the distant horizon, avoiding the glowing sphere of the sun and the amber gaze burning into him.

"…I'm sorry, Ce. I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

Perhaps he shouldn't have dragged himself into it, either. But it was far too late to sidestep that. The Little Conqueror's hand on his elbow drove the reluctant thoughts away, bringing Zhou Yu's onyx eyes back to his companion's small smile and the accompanying dry chuckle.

"What's with that attitude already? We've haven't even gotten there yet." Sun Ce shook his head again and dug a light fist into the silken summer sleeve, brushing circles onto the strategist's pale skin with his restless fingertips. "It won't be that bad – I won't let it be. That's a promise."

Perhaps it was an empty promise. How much could the Sun lord truly do to alleviate the tension Zhou Yu already felt rippling through his neck, to stave off his companion's tendency toward disquiet? But the swordsman had to admit, as he stared into the young officer's brightly winning eyes, that the aura of eternally undaunted confidence shining through Sun Ce's gaze was hard to ignore. In spite of his concerns, Zhou Yu felt a small smile slipping over his features, and he turned back to the landscape as the shifting expression sifted across his lips.

"Whatever you say."

The Sun lord laughed shortly. "Not exactly a vote of confidence – but it'll have to do." Sun Ce leaned forward over the neck of his mount and tipped his head toward the valley below, one hand tangling through the coarse strands of his horse's mane. "What do you say we get this over with? I'll race you to the bottom."

Zhou Yu couldn't help rolling his eyes as he glanced down the long, gentle slope ahead of them and the road that wound like a serpent through the streets of Shucheng. "How old are you?" he ragged without malice, drawing a shameless grin onto the young officer's tan face.

"Twelve. But at least I'm not old and stodgy like you. Come on – it'll be good for you." The strategist raised an unconvinced eyebrow and looked pointedly at the hill ahead of them, a slight sigh preceding his monotone response.

"Hardly. You may be a maniac, but that doesn't mean I have to join in your idiotic exploits. If you don't curb your reckless tendencies, Ce, you'll be dead before you hit thirty five—"

"Ready set go!"

The Little Conqueror's hand vanished from his swordsman's arm an instant before the blur of motion at his side shot down the hill, scattering gravel in all directions with a cacophony of crashing hoof beats. Zhou Yu blinked, left alone at the crest with only the trailing end of the Sun lord's laughter for company – then his eyes narrowed dangerously, glaring hard into the back of the young officer's skittering ponytail.

"Sun Ce!"

Sun Ce's snicker trailed up to him, matching his darting amber eyes as the young lord pulled up short a fair distance downhill and stuck out his tongue. The swordsman crossed his arms firmly over his chest – but there was no dimming the incredible light in the Little Conqueror's grin as he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted back up the slope.

"Better hurry, Zhou Yu – I'm gonna crush you at this rate! You wouldn't want to lose on your own turf, would you?"

Like a shot down his spine, memory overwhelmed the strategist's senses – a similar taunt, another race like this one, sliding down the hill into Shucheng on ponies two young boys had been strictly forbidden to gallop. A tiny smile flared across Zhou Yu's lips like a flicker of flame, matching the playful intensity of his commander's challenging eyes. And almost without intention, the swordsman found himself driving both heels forcefully into his horse's side, spattering the animal into motion and hurtling toward his vibrant companion down the raucous gravel road.

Sun Ce waited just long enough for him to move before impelling his mount back into motion, snapping his gaze away from the strategist's as he raced toward the unsuspecting village. Like twin strikes of lightning, the horses tore down the hill before them, flattening the rough grass of the untamed ridge; Zhou Yu pressed his knees tight against the animal's flank as he pulled one stride behind the Sun lord and pushed his pace, the lighthearted contest threatening his rigid features.

"Come on! Go, go, go!" Sun Ce shouted, excitedly exacting both reins and heels on his racing mount. "We can do it! Heyah!"

The strategist couldn't stop a chuckle from escaping his lips as he ducked toward his horse's neck and surveyed the viridian landscape rushing closer through slitted eyes, watching the structures below gain definition and detail. The wind of motion scattered dark hair haphazardly across his back as Zhou Yu pulled himself up slightly from the crouch, rocking with the horse's motion and fixing his gaze on the path directly ahead of them. If he hadn't forgotten the details of the landscape—

"Ce, left!"

Both riders cleared the hairpin turn with inches to spare, shuddering gravel into the uncultivated groundcover to each side of the road as the Sun lord obeyed his strategist instinctually and swerved toward the uphill diversion. Sun Ce laughed delightedly and shot his companion a fleeting grin over one shoulder; then all his energy slammed into his heels as the vertical slope slowed the horses' speed and the Little Conqueror strove to outpace his swordsman once again. Zhou Yu bent low against the quivering hide of his panting steed and let his gaze stray to the sunlight streaming across the young officer's face – the way the afternoon caught in those captivating amber eyes as another whoop dashed from his tongue.

"Last stretch! Here we go!"

Sun Ce had been here, too. The strategist had almost forgotten, gazing at Shucheng from the top of the final ridge, how many years they'd spent together in the sheltered vale. How the Sun lord's history with the Zhou family estate – with the Zhou family itself – was half as long as his own. The dark swordsman wound his fingers tighter into the reins and pushed his horse's gallop, too distracted by the one thousand star smile on his companion's face to notice the leveling path beneath eight clapping hoofs, to see the dust from their furious ride settling over the twisted garden on his left. The path widened into a light curve and propelled both riders heedlessly in sight of the main hall, driving a storm of pebbles into the bushes beside them and pulling almost indistinguishably at the strategist's lips.

Sun Ce had lived here, too. Perhaps he hadn't given the young officer enough credit – it was possible that the Little Conqueror's indomitable spirit truly could override his hovering concerns. Zhou Yu slumped a little in his saddle and relaxed his hold on the weathered reins, following the dancing ends of his companion's ponytail as his own horse slowed readily and the victorious lord of Wu shot past him in a flurry of flying soil.

"Woohoo! Gotcha!"

Just possible.

The game was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Zhou Yu allowed his horse to drop into a comfortable canter and watched Sun Ce with considering eyes as he sailed on ahead, throwing both fists victoriously into the air and entering the estate's ample courtyard at breakneck speed. The Sun lord reined hard and turned back to shoot his strategist a cheeky grin, flashing a satisfied salute and spinning a dust devil through the space between them.

"Still the fastest Sun in the west!" he exclaimed gleefully, exuberant tone bounding unhindered around the reception courtyard. The swordsman rolled his eyes and brushed an errant strand of hair from his shoulders, trotting easily toward the viciously grinning rider as adrenaline abandoned his system and leveled his tone to its natural neutrality.

"We're in central China, Ce. And you're the only Sun between us – so it hardly matters that you beat me." Sun Ce shrugged and stuck out his tongue, slinging both arms behind his head as the second rider halted just beside him.

"But I did beat you. Don't try to pretend it doesn't bother you – I can see that competitive spirit rising up in you right now," he goaded, poking his strategist squarely in the shoulder with one exultant finger.

Zhou Yu knew there was a time when he would have demanded a rematch at the Sun lord's playful jab. Even on a normal day, the young officer's openly triumphant teasing might have catapulted them into a verbal sparring match, because they'd never really stopped colliding and neither one disliked the sparks. But there was a shadow in the rampant sunlight that settled far more firmly across the swordsman's face, chasing all traces of flippant response from his lips before they could even arise and killing the momentary diversion in a single swift stroke. A shadow in the form of the massive main hall, waiting just ahead like a lurking maw to hell.

They had arrived.

The strategist took a deep breath and clicked his tongue, ignoring the whirlwind of uncertain emotion between his ribs as his horse ambled closer to the waiting estate and shook the day's heat from its sweating back. Sun Ce followed him slowly, amber eyes flashing between his companion's silent face and the high features of the proud entryway waiting patiently before them. Zhou Yu's dark gaze moved almost methodically across the grounds; he bit his tongue to hold back the feeling of reluctance he couldn't afford and reined his horse to a stop ten paces from the hall, staring soundlessly at the face of a house he had not entered in six years.

In a way, it was more striking than he'd remembered. There was a grand air to the decorated end tiles and sloping roof that seemed to hint at generations of excellence, at a legacy of prominence beneath the sheltered eaves – but there was something off-color about the estate, too, slipping up the righteous walls like the climbing vines that clearly hadn't been cut in far too long. The entire house seemed to echo a note of neglect, as though no one had cared for the state of the dry courtyard and brisk entryway in too long to recall. And in that, the swordsman guessed he was not wrong – only Xan had stayed behind, and none of Zhou Fan's sons had ever been concerned with the estate's exterior anyway.

"I believe they're expecting us."

Even to his own ears, Zhou Yu's voice sounded distant and cold. The central door stood open before them, unattended but ringed with internal darkness from the unlit lamps no doubt flanking long corridors of must- and incense-infused air. If the creeping collapse of the entryway was any indication, only dust and moths would flit through the once well-occupied rooms, only isolated footsteps break the shadows of a fractured family home. And somewhere, trapped by weakness between his decaying sheets…

The strategist swallowed hard and stared into the undistinguished darkness, trailing the end of the afternoon sunlight with unseeing eyes as Sun Ce fidgeted at his side and the horses pawed impatiently. Finally the Little Conqueror could stand the silence no longer, and he dropped a warm hand onto his companion's arm, effectively shattering Zhou Yu's drifting thoughts.

"Hey. Are we going in or not?"

The swordsman blinked, glancing into the serious amber eyes and then back to the door before a heavy sigh escaped his tight lips. Wu's renowned strategist brushed fleetingly at his impending headache and motioned vaguely to the empty courtyard surrounding them, momentarily stifling his concerns in an effort to remain practical.

"We should put the horses away first."

After all, no attendants had presented themselves in a gesture of aid, and the animals at least deserved to get out of the sun after their strenuous ride. There was no guessing at the condition of the stables, though, considering how barren the rest of the estate seemed to have become – even the festival lanterns were missing from their usual places above the central door. That, even more than the unkempt grounds on each side of them, warned the swordsman just how sick his father had to be – there was no way Zhou Fan would allow his eldest son to return without some sort of fanfare, were he able to move from his bed at all.

But Sun Ce was right, and standing in the summer sun wasn't making the next movement any easier. The swordsman shook his thoughts away and threw his companion another glance over one shoulder, tossing his head toward the right wall of the imposing house. "You remember where the stable is—"

"That won't be necessary."

Zhou Yu spun forward at the haunting dissention, almost jumping in his saddle as a form suddenly stepped out of the darkened entrance hall and surrendered itself to the sunlight. The strategist's eyes widened and then narrowed very quickly as his gaze shot across the powerful young man waiting for them in the doorway; his tongue moved almost as fast as his mind, banishing the initial shock as a set of identical black eyes met his across the gravel courtyard.

"Xan."

The man in question bowed halfway, hands clasped at attention over his chest. "Zhou Yu. We have been sincerely awaiting your arrival. It has been a long time since your presence graced our halls. You are most welcome." His smooth, formal tone glided like a circling falcon against the cloudless sky, and the swordsman pressed his lips into the thin line, taking a silent moment to survey the man his youngest brother had grown into.

Xan was not tall – and for a moment that surprised Zhou Yu, because even from his superior height atop the horse the younger man had a sort of commanding presence about him. His raven hair was pulled back in the strict bun of his childhood, though that association did nothing to soften the hard contours of his face; a set of simple robes fell around his slight form, which seemed to have lost musculature from the image lodged in the strategist's memory. But despite his apparent frailty and the unscarred skin of his smooth features, there was an air of dominating control about Xan that belied his scant eighteen years.

"…It's good to see you well," Zhou Yu managed quietly, and his brother seemed to swallow a slight sardonic smirk against the wealth of sunlight flooding his face.

Perhaps becoming the sole keeper of his parents and the family's expansive estate at twelve was the source of the silt littering the young man's coal-black eyes. Perhaps it was watching his older brothers split and ride off to opposite sides of a never-ending war, or observing Zhou Fan's descent into illness, or any one of infinite other situations that had hardened the strict lines of his granite jaw. But regardless of the reason, Zhou Yu met his brother's stare and found himself regarding an equal, in spite of the six years and incalculable experience between them. For an instant, the swordsman was unsure of what to say – but it hardly mattered, because Xan's cool voice split the courtyard again without the slightest hint of hesitation.

"I thank you for your kind words. In any case… do not concern yourself with the horses. Your mother is inside, and she is eager to see you. It would be impolite to keep her waiting."

There was something decidedly hollow about the meticulous statement, and Zhou Yu had a feeling that Lady Cai was not interested in seeing him at all. But there wasn't an obvious accusation to level at Xan's effortlessly composed suggestion, and the strategist had no choice but to shoot Sun Ce a quick glance and slowly dismount. The Sun lord did the same, brushing the dust of a long ride away from his pants and watching the youngest Zhou child warily as though unsure whether to acknowledge his former housemate or not. But once again, Xan beat him to it – the young man fixed his unnervingly pointed stare on the Little Conqueror as he took both sets of reins in hand and bowed deeply once more.

"Lord Sun Ce. We are, of course, honored to receive your presence as well. News of your success in the Wu Territory has reached us, and we are pleased with the opportunity to congratulate you on your considerable efforts." Sun Ce shifted in mild discomfort at the strangled praise, obviously fiddling with his words before a hesitantly boyish smile slipped over his countenance.

"Well… thanks." The honesty shining in his amber eyes almost drew an instinctive half-smile to Zhou Yu's lips as well, but the shrewd youth before them shrugged off the gratitude as easily as though the young officer had not spoken at all, and his words filled the summer air almost before the Sun lord's had faded away.

"In accordance with your substantial accomplishments, we ask you to remember that you are always welcome in our house – the Zhou family of Shucheng offers you its appropriate assistance." Xan straightened from his gesture of respect and eyed the Sun lord evenly, his gaze calculating despite its apparent generosity. "We are not at present in a position to swear an oath of loyalty to your growing Wu Empire; however, if you happen to be passing this way in the future, do not hesitate to seek our aid. I will do my utmost to support any venture you make in this region."

If nothing else, the boy was smart. The strategist felt a slight, sardonic smirk flickering across his lips at Xan's straightforward statement and the unaffected surprise flitting through Sun Ce's expression. Rarely had Zhou Yu heard such a carefully calculated statement, even from the experienced courtiers and advisors he'd met through his years of service, who had a tendency to let their grand prose make promises they didn't intend to keep.

For his part, Xan hadn't really promised anything at all – in fact, all his speech really amounted to was an offer of lodging. In case the Little Conqueror's bid for dominance failed, there would be no actual tie of allegiance to Sun Ce, which would make it easier for the Zhou family to stay in power when Shucheng was inevitably overrun by a victorious army. The swordsman couldn't be sure how much Xan knew about Duke Cao and Yuan Shu to the north, but the young man was probably at least aware of what a long shot the Sun lord really was for dominion of the entire country.

On the other hand, the young man's proclamation of assistance practically granted the lord of Wu a blank favor, which would be worth capitalizing on if his empire actually managed to hold its own in the race for power. Zhou Yu didn't know where his youngest brother had learned to speak like a careful politician, but he was very good at it – uncertain incomprehension blinked over Sun Ce's face for a long moment before he rubbed the back of his neck and threw his strategist a curious glance.

"…Sure thing. I'll remember that."

Xan nodded shortly, apparently satisfied with the ambiguous response. "Please see that you do. As I was saying – your mother is awaiting you inside, Zhou Yu. I will see to your horses myself." And without so much as a backward glance, the young man turned for the side of the house and strode away, leading both animals effortlessly toward the stable out of sight. Wu's dark swordsman sighed silently and watched his brother's retreating back, the uneasy breath settling into his lungs contrasting sharply with the sweet summer air.

Among the excess of regrets flickering through the weave of Zhou Yu's past, the distance between himself and Xan was not one of his greatest. Even when the strategist had left for Jiang Dong the first time, the boy had already been developing the control and independence that radiated from him now – he'd already been stepping away from his family's affection to pursue a more solitary course. Xan hadn't needed his brothers' guidance or protection in too many years to count. But there was still an unshakable edge of remorse – a slight pressure against the swordsman's ribcage wondering if he'd done enough, if he'd abandoned the young man before his time. How Xan might have matured with an older brother like Sun Ce instead…

"Hey." Zhou Yu blinked and turned back as a steady hand settled on his shoulder, obsidian eyes flitting to their amber opposites. The Sun lord tossed his head idly in the direction Xan had disappeared and clicked his tongue, a small frown furrowing his forehead into confused lines. "Is it just me, or is that kid even wordier than you are?"

A tiny smile threatened the strategist's lips at the harmless jab, and for a moment he too stared after the shadow of the departed youth, watching the tide of time tear them apart – then he took a deep breath and stepped forward, dismissing his lingering thoughts and focusing on the estate's solemn face once more. Sun Ce shifted at his side and chuckled dryly, warm hand slipping from his companion's shoulder as he gestured to the waiting entrance.

"Looks inviting, doesn't it?" Zhou Yu scoffed at the sarcastic observation.

"As inviting as a grave."

But his quiet murmur got lost in the tread of boots across the graveled courtyard as both men moved simultaneously forward, heading for the darkened door with measured strides. Zhou Yu felt the warmth of the afternoon sun waning on his face as he stepped into the shadow of the rising eaves – and then it disappeared completely, banished by the cool rim of the doorframe and the unbroken blackness of the deserted entrance hall.

Almost as soon as they'd moved inside, the strategist wished he had held his last words – the hall where celebrations beyond number had been conducted, which he remembered alive with music and dinner guests, was unnervingly reminiscent of a tomb. The strategist couldn't guess why no candles had been lit, unless it served as an exaggerated gesture of mourning – but regardless, only the sunlight streaming in behind them offered any illumination to the murky interior, and its details were faint and faded through the dim air. Two matching sets of footsteps echoed in cacophony against the unseen walls as the Wu officers proceeded to the center of the large room, staring through the darkness as handfuls of incomplete memories drifted over the open floor – memories linking them both to the unseen ceiling and the empty tables and the childhood they had shared.

The swordsman couldn't help a quiet sigh as his gaze roamed along the forsaken walls, shadow-painting the past against a muted present – and then he stopped dead, eyes locked on the motionless figure halted stiffly in the mouth to the inner corridor just ahead of them and bracing one hand against the nearest wall.

Lady Cai was indeed waiting for him – but she was standing, and for a moment that surprised Zhou Yu almost as much as Xan's height. In considering his mother during the long ride from Qingshan, the strategist had imagined her in atrophy, too, matching her failing husband in weakness and delicacy. Lady Cai had certainly become wiry, but there was a sharpness to her features that denied the gripping hands of death he had pictured, and in her brightly reproving eyes he saw the stern mother who had been the true backbone of their household throughout his youth. Sun Ce started and bumped into his companion as the woman suddenly moved through the darkness, calling attention to her drawn features and stepping forward toward the overpowered light of the afternoon sun with intention already alight in her piercing gaze.

"Zhou Yu?" The strategist straightened. His mother's voice was quieter than he remembered, but sharper as well, and it dug into his ribcage as she peered behind him and then refocused unsmilingly on the officers before her. Lady Cai studied the hard edge of her son's jaw for a long moment before speaking again, lean fingers digging into the silk of her rich sleeves and abandoning any attempt at welcome. "Only the two of you have come?"

Instantly the swordsman recognized the disapproving line of his mother's thin lips, and he stiffened in response, a matching scowl sliding across his pale face as his eyes hardened to unrelenting onyx. "My letter mentioned that my wife would not be accompanying me," Zhou Yu grated, holding his tone even and polite despite the tension already sliding across his shoulders. Lady Cai huffed and dropped both hands to her hips, a gesture that seemed to harden her entire form into chiseled stone as she glanced between her eldest son and his uninvited companion as though wishing a lithe young woman would appear instead.

"It did indeed. But I had hoped you'd come to your senses and heed my request. It is hardly proper for a mother not to receive her daughter-in-law… or her grandson."

Truly, the only woman with a right to complain about Xuan's absence from their ancestral home was Lu Meng's mother, and Zhou Yu had a feeling the acerbic warrior wouldn't have brought his son home even if that were an option – but he kept his mouth shut and bowed shallowly nonetheless, noticing the unswept grime between the swirls of tile on the floor as his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light.

"I'm afraid you'll have to forgive me."

He refused to let it bother him – the cold line of her mouth, the tight intention shining in her eyes. He refused to acknowledge the bittersweet sting somewhere below his lungs at the affirmation that his mother didn't care to see him at all, knowing now that his presence wouldn't yield the grandson she'd been waiting for. If the strategist were honest with himself, he hadn't particularly wanted to see her, either – hadn't wanted to see any of them. Why should their hearts have stayed any more devoted than his? Why should he deserve their affection without giving his in return? But the striking severity in Lady Cai's gaze was unpleasant nonetheless, and he swallowed against the dryness in his throat as the aging woman before him curled her hands into knobbed fists and stared at her visitors with intense displeasure washing across her taut features.

For a moment, Zhou Yu wondered whether Lady Cai would receive them at all without the requested company of his wife and supposed son, or whether the long ride from Qingshan would be rendered useless so soon – but then the shadows on her face retreated to a heavy frown and the woman scoffed under her breath, discontented eyes flitting restlessly to the silent walls around them without any real malevolence.

"…It's not a matter that calls for forgiveness. But you will have to bring them along the next time you choose to visit. It is unthinkable that they've gone so long without being formally welcomed into this family."

There was never going to be a next time – that much Zhou Yu was certain, even without completing the first journey. Never again would he trouble to traverse the valley's deceptively idyllic folds. But Lady Cai was staring at him hard beneath her wiry lashes as though daring his defiance, and the swordsman only tipped his head despite the wealth of refusal settling into his stomach. "There is no predicting the course of life's events," he answered instead, voice echoing like ghost footsteps against the unseen walls around them. "I can't make any promises."

Unsurprisingly, that was not what the woman wanted to hear, and her eyes narrowed almost accusingly in the cold contours of her pale face – but she had no time to press for his word, because a cascade of dusty strides in the doorway announced the return of her youngest child. Xan stepped into the darkness and cast the small group a calculating glance, judging the shadow on his mother's face and the tight line of Zhou Yu's mouth as he paused to knock the gravel from his sturdy boots. The young man moved forward into their midst and cleared his throat, wiping the feel of leather reins from his smooth hands with the folds of his sleeves and eyeing Lady Cai carefully through the dim air.

"Mother – may I assume you have greeted Lord Sun Ce in the proper manner?" The woman in question turned her face away, either reluctant or unable to meet her son's piercing gaze and the underlying force of the polite question. Sun Ce shifted uncomfortably in the lagging silence and brushed closer to his strategist with awkward restlessness, one hand trailing up to straighten his windswept ponytail as his amber eyes darted uncertainly to Zhou Yu's. The swordsman watched his unspeaking mother, studying the teeth that nipped inattentively at her lips like a row of jagged pearls – and then suddenly she spoke, almost making her visitors jump with the abrupt sharpness of her voice.

"Lord Sun Ce." The Sun lord straightened at Lady Cai's cold voice, fidgeting unintentionally with the hem of his shirt; the displeased woman barely spared him a glance as she tossed her head stiffly and gestured to the neglected hall around them. "Welcome to Shucheng. Make yourself at home."

Then she turned on heel and strode out of the hall like a looming thunderstorm, eyes cold and fingers tight against the pattern of her silk robes as each slippered step resounded against the hidden walls. Sun Ce started a little at the forced reception and blinked up at his companion, who stared at the shifting lines of his mother's tense shoulders as she moved purposefully through the doorway and out of sight. The swordsman tried to remember her profile before the stern inflexibility, back when her trailing robes were like butterflies and her hands seemed warm despite their severity, but the image slipped away from him in the vanishing echoes of her irritated tread and sunk into the gloom consuming the air around them.

Xan shook his head with an impassive sigh, bowing a little as Lady Cai's footsteps faded down the shadowed corridor and drew the officers' eyes back to his unhurried form. "You'll have to forgive her, Lord Sun Ce – she's not herself since Father became ill." The youngest Zhou child tapped one unaffected hand against his wrist and nodded sagely, glancing between his visitors and the deserted hallway with comparable disinterest. "I'm certain she intended no disrespect. She's simply not as gentle as she used to be."

Something about Sun Ce's expression seemed to question whether Lady Cai had ever been gentle at all, and Zhou Yu could only guess at the string of memories sliding through his preoccupied eyes; but the Little Conqueror wisely kept his mouth shut about his opinion and gave their young escort a forced smile instead, shoving any lingering hesitation away from his countenance. "No harm done. Happens all the time."

Wu's dark strategist felt his forehead furrowing at the undoubtedly false deflection – but his brother swallowed the explanation without question, seemingly uninterested in any more than courteous exchange. The young man tipped his chin inquiringly to one side and indicated the corridor ahead of them, his intelligent gaze focused squarely on the swordsman beside him as his thin voice spilled into the waiting darkness. "I'm relieved to hear that, Lord Sun Ce. Now, if you don't mind… I should take you to see Father."

Zhou Yu tensed instantly, the muscles throughout his limbs snapping taut as his eyes shot down the corridor faster than a pair of lightning arrows; at his side, Sun Ce openly flinched. The empty air around them seemed to hold its breath, drawing back from the serious lines of the swordsman's face as he tightened ten fingers into his sleeves and watched the silent hallway with reluctant foreboding gnawing at his quickened pulse. For a moment, caught up in the complications of his mother and her youngest son, Zhou Yu had almost managed to forget that the worst part of their arrival still awaited them somewhere in the shadowy contours of the neglected estate, trapped in his chamber by a physical weakness that had descended far too early. The strategist hadn't been looking forward to a reunion with any of his family members – but Zhou Fan was, by far, the one he dreaded seeing most.

Zhou Yu bit the inside of his cheek hard, glance dashing indecisively through the dust and darkness ahead. Would Zhou Fan be as dismissive of his older son's presence as his wife had been? Or would he be ecstatic, eyes alight with hope and the unending naiveté that had sent Xing Dao on his courier mission in the first place? He had a feeling the second response would be far worse – and far more characteristic of the desperate father he remembered. The swordsman gritted his teeth and fought to unwind his fingers from their tensely curling fists, ignoring the feeling of impending disaster between his ribs as Sun Ce shifted and brushed his arm with one encouraging hand.

"How about it, Yu?" the Sun lord asked, voice cautious like the dust motes swirling around them. "We came this far, after all."

His words made it sound like leaving without confronting Zhou Fan was an option. Zhou Yu smirked sardonically to himself at the thought, letting his companion's words disintegrate before giving a careful nod in response. There was no avoiding his father now. Why bother delaying the inevitable?

Xan studied both men silently, charcoal gaze judging the tight line of his brother's jaw and the depth coursing through his obsidian eyes despite his apparent acquiescence. Then the youngest Zhou child shrugged, dragging the officers' attention back from their hesitant scrutiny of the corridor as his arms uncrossed and fell easily away from his chest. "Good. If you'll follow me, then."

The unruffled youth bowed stiffly once more and turned on heel, heading for the corridor ahead and trusting his guests to follow; the lord of Wu and his strategist shared a quick glance before falling into unhurried stride behind their escort, lips sealed with the terse air of the neglected entrance hall. Zhou Yu shoved the tendrils of lingering hesitation down into the pit of his stomach as he passed through the door, moving into the long unlit hallway after his brother and listening absently to Sun Ce's footsteps in his wake – the only sound but their shallow breathing in the tightly silent passageway.

The swordsman didn't want to think about the floor slipping away beneath their feet, leading them inevitably toward the master chambers of the crumbling estate and the once proud master confined within – he directed his gaze to the corridor's paneling instead, glancing at the empty oil lamps above their heads and the faded tapestries hung from unseen hooks. The decorations that had flourished throughout the expansive house in his childhood were in as much decline as the structure itself, leaving the once inviting home with a seeping impression of desolation. Even the floorboards beneath them creaked with each measured step, echoing dissonantly along the barren corridor like the churning wheels of cavalry chariots.

The feeling of disrepair and neglect apparent in every aspect of the estate was so incomparably different from the warmth ringing through each one of the myriad Wu palaces that it almost seemed physically discordant – but then, perhaps it was a fitting atmosphere for the polite distance radiating between the few members of the Zhou family who had chosen to stay.

Zhou Yu studied the plane of Xan's back and his strict bun bobbing thoughtlessly with every stride, considering his youngest brother silently as doors leading deeper into the estate slid by on their right and the left wall opened to border the central courtyard. He wondered why the young man had bothered remaining in the home of his faltering father all these years, and whether he'd continue his role as caretaker of the gloomy structure after Zhou Fan's death – was he here simply for their father's peace of mind? Did Xan consider it his duty to maintain the ancestral home, since both of his brothers had abandoned their obligations years earlier? Or was there truly something to be gained through his unending filiality – something more practical that would appeal to the iron interior of the young man's coal-black eyes?

He didn't have time to ask. As they rounded a bend and headed at last toward the sleeping quarters, Xan's voice broke the silence yet again, its customary unconcern accompanying a backward glance that barely bothered to meet the swordsman's eyes before drifting forward once more. The young man sighed to himself and slid both hands under the veil of his ample sleeves.

"You haven't asked about Qi."

Zhou Yu froze, halting so abruptly that Sun Ce bumped into him from behind and latched both fists into his fluid shirt to keep from staggering. Breath stumbled to a stop in the strategist's considerably surprised lungs as he stared openly at his youngest brother, eyes wide with the surge of shocked adrenaline shooting through his veins. For a moment, his mind refused to function, caught off guard by a name he hadn't summoned in many long years. Then a displeased scowl spilled across the swordsman's countenance and pressed his lips into a thin line, spurring rekindled aggravation to smolder in his eyes.

"Why would I?"

Xan shrugged, neither impressed nor intimidated by the wildfire of discontent coursing through his brother's expression. "I thought you might be curious," the young man answered simply, twisting the edge of his slight sleeve between unhurried fingers and resuming his easy pace down the corridor. Sun Ce nudged his companion hard in the back and pushed them into motion again, propelling his stormy swordsman forward after their nonchalant escort even as Zhou Yu's glower burned into the folds of Xan's robe. "He is your brother, after all. And you probably haven't heard from him in—"

"Six years." It was no great loss, in the strategist's eyes. If his middle brother had fallen from the face of the earth the day he decided to ride north and join Cao Cao – Cao Cao, whose loyal lieutenants had tried to assassinate Sun Ce mere months previously – it would have been all to the better in Zhou Yu's opinion. The Sun lord elbowed his companion firmly in the ribs and caught his onyx eyes in a strong stare, amber gaze chastising the shadows between the swordsman's terse response. But Xan just smiled a little and shook his head; the young man paused unexpectedly at a window that opened into the gardens beyond them, staring almost wistfully through the thick foliage as his hands found the well-worn sill.

"I see you've not forgotten him with time." Xan chuckled lightly, a dry and vaguely unpleasant sound that wound between them with the consistency of smoke and drifted through the amiable summer breeze. "I can assure you he's no more agreeable than you remember – age doesn't seem to have mellowed him much at all."

Zhou Yu straightened a little and watched his brother's face closely, gaze catching on the barely concealed amusement lurking in his coal eyes as Xan tsked under his breath. "He was passing through here a few months ago on his way back from a diplomatic venture of some kind… he didn't have much time, but he did stop by long enough to swallow half a bottle of good wine. He looks well." The young man's words seemed almost hollow in their emotionless honesty – Zhou Yu felt his commander shifting awkwardly at his side as the Sun lord worked to find his voice.

"He's still working in the north?" Xan snorted softly.

"Hardly working at all, I would imagine, given his character. He always was clever, though – great lords make use of men like him." The youth cast his brother a fleeting glance over one preoccupied shoulder, judging the terse lines of his expression before turning back to the open window and swallowing a deep breath of sunlit air. "Whether you approve or not, Zhou Yu, Duke Cao is a great lord – he knows how to make the best of his resources."

The swordsman bristled a little, catching the underlying accusation of his own failure to choose a lord distinguished enough for acknowledgement, and a note of offhand irritation skimmed through Sun Ce's eyes as he flicked his ponytail back over one shoulder. But either Xan didn't notice or he didn't care – the young man turned swiftly from his window perch and continued down the corridor unhindered, hardly waiting for the answering tread of his visitors before his voice interrupted the stuttered silence of the hallway again.

"No insult intended to present company, of course."

The Sun lord rolled his eyes, stepping forward to catch Zhou Yu's ear with his sarcastically muttered Of course not. The swordsman shook his head and followed his brother wordlessly down the seemingly endless passageway, Qi weighing heavily on his mind despite the long-faded fabric of their childhood disagreements. Somehow, the thought of Qi's snidely sneering face turned the strategist's stomach just as it had done years ago, despite the distance and time stretching endlessly between them and muting the contours of his serpentine countenance. Zhou Yu couldn't be sure, now, whether his arguments with Qi had truly been as important as they'd seemed, or if his temper had just been shorter in his youth and his ire easier to earn. But either way, he was relieved that they wouldn't be running into his second brother during their stay in Shucheng – childish or not, the strategist had a feeling any further interaction with Qi would have to take place through clashing swords.

Abruptly, Xan stopped moving, halting dead in the center of the hallway and pivoting back to face his guests on a quick heel. Sun Ce started a little at the sudden change in pace and Zhou Yu blinked, studying his brother curiously as the young man gestured toward a silent door on their right, clever eyes catching the swordsman's. "We moved Father into one of the central rooms last winter, when his chambers became too cold," Xan explained without prompting, a slight shrug rolling through his shoulders. "His quarters are down this hallway."

For a long moment, the strategist couldn't understand why his youngest brother had bothered to stop and explain their course change instead of simply leading the way down this second corridor. Then Sun Ce took a step back and moved to lean against the opposite wall, his glance shooting several strides down to the open window and the garden beyond it baking in the heavy sunlight. Both amber eyes regarded their obsidian opposites with a slight smile as the Sun lord laughed awkwardly, sliding one hand through the tangled mess of his ponytail and motioning vaguely to the door.

"How about I wait here, Yu? Let you guys have a little quality time down there."

Zhou Yu blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected offer and the slight nods moving the Little Conqueror's chin up and down in suggestion. Why would the young officer choose to stay behind now, when he'd been so adamant about accompanying the strategist to Shucheng in the first place? Hadn't Sun Ce wanted to come along to drag his swordsman out of the pits of depression when the situation weighed heavily on his shoulders – to scatter his darker thoughts at a moment exactly like this one was bound to be? What good could come of his seclusion in this forsaken hallway, too distant to jar his companion from descent into solemn desolation?

Then the confirmation burning in the Little Conqueror's eyes caught up with him, and Zhou Yu realized that his commander was doing them both a favor in agreeing to stay behind just this once. It wasn't likely that Zhou Fan would be pleased to see the man who had taken his son's loyalty standing right in front of him – fulfilling his impossibly vast ambitions, healthy and successful while his own body continued to fail him. And how uncomfortable must interactions with the Zhou family be for Sun Ce himself – he had known every member in his youth, but any ties once standing were long broken, and the severed ends trailing weakly between them weren't strong enough to reconnect. Hadn't Xan's calmly political congratulations proved how little sentiment lingered from that childhood association? Perhaps Zhou Fan would have been the hardest to face of all, just as he would be for Zhou Yu.

The strategist swallowed a deep breath and found he had no option but to nod as well, accepting Sun Ce's proposal despite his disinclination to proceed alone. Xan nodded firmly along with him, as though his objective all along had been to abandon the Sun lord in his badly maintained corridor, and reached for the door behind him with a steady hand, resting each palm briefly against the screen panels.

"Then, if you'll follow me, Zhou Yu." The swordsman turned to obey his brother's instructions wordlessly, a reluctant frown interrupting the pale contours of his handsome face; but just before he could move out of reach, an unmistakably familiar hand dropped onto his shoulder, and Zhou Yu glanced back to meet the warm voice with his full attention.

"Hey."

Wu's famous strategist raised an inquiring eyebrow. The Little Conqueror's lips quirked upward in a short grin as he shot his swordsman a wink, one thumb popping up encouragingly from his loose fist. "Good luck," the young officer intoned, his restless voice dimmed in the overbearing silence of the hallway. Zhou Yu studied his companion's face and tried to lock the sunlit features into the fabric of his mind, holding the cheerful image as long as he could to delay the shadows descending ahead – then Xan slid the passage's concealing door open and moved smoothly into the hidden corridor, and the strategist had no choice but to follow.

Only their footsteps broke the silence of the sheltered hallway as the two men moved mutely forward, and Zhou Yu let his gaze rove up and down the dismal walls, tracing the paneling in search of a vague association. It seemed as though the doors they passed should lead to rooms at the very center of the extensive structure – rooms he remembered, where guests had stayed and spare furniture had been stored to keep it out from underfoot. But somehow, even with an instinctive knowledge of the estate's layout and a childhood to match each steady stride, nothing looked familiar. Perhaps it was just that the feeling of the house had changed so much; every doorway seemed dark and foreboding, sliding by like blinded eyes and leading to destinations at which he could only guess.

Zhou Yu shook his head to clear the useless thoughts away and pressed his pace, catching Xan's slippered steps to walk evenly beside his younger brother down the dust-cluttered passageway. The young man did not spare him a glance, untanned features smooth and serene with the air of unhurried expectation that seemed, in the strategist's experience, to come with awaiting death. It was an expression he recognized from the funeral conductors he had sometimes seen – as though they had accepted the inescapability of human mortality long ago, leaving the rest of their race to struggle with dreams of an afterlife and fear of the nothingness that might loom on the other side…

"Here."

Zhou Yu stopped abruptly, snapped from his thoughts as the shadows of the hallway solidified without warning into a sturdy door, framed in trailing dust motes and the remnants of destroyed spider webs. The strategist felt his pulse quicken as memory suddenly descended like a set of chiming bells, ringing through his mind with an almost sickening familiarity as the entire house seemed to shift in his mind, settling into an order he remembered as vividly as the afternoon sun heading for the horizon somewhere high above them.

It was ironic, in a way. The room Xan had chosen for their father was the best guest chamber in the Zhou family estate – the room where Sun Jian and Lady Wu had lived during their long stay in Shucheng. The association was a little more than Zhou Yu wanted to think about, and he shoved it away, forcing the Tiger of Jiang Dong into a forgotten corner of his mind as his young escort placed a hand on the untarnished wood and regarded him fully from his inferior height.

"He has been waiting for you," Xan murmured, the words empty and disconnected as he met his brother's flitting glance above the must-covered floor tiles and a nonchalant half-smile slipped across his face. "He's been waiting for years."

Zhou Yu wanted to know what they'd told Zhou Fan through those years – why he had kept hoping for a reunion despite the fractured family that had fallen through his fingers and scattered to the four winds, despite his eldest son's proclamation of abandonment and the letters that hadn't come. He wanted to ask about the knowing light lurking in Xan's coal-black eyes. But he didn't have time – the door swung open too eagerly beneath his brother's light touch, almost as though pulled from within by a hand that couldn't wait to greet them, and then there was nowhere to go but in.

What struck him first was the smell.

It wasn't the smell he usually associated with death. Death as he knew it came from the battlefield, and it was a bittersweet and sickening scent, drawn from the blood that seeped like rainwater through the trampled earth after a conflict. Death smelled the way copper looked, bright but sour as it defiled the clear morning air with the black smoke of warning fires and the clash of contesting gongs. It was a scent he'd gotten used to – one that registered in the back of his mind but rarely stalled his breath anymore, regardless of the heavy casualties it carried.

This was different. The smell drifting from Zhou Fan's quarters seemed more unpleasant than the kind Wu's swordsman was accustomed to dealing with – it was almost rancid, laden with the stench of sweat, immobility, and too many recycled breaths streaming in and out of failing lungs. Only by virtue of his great composure did Zhou Yu keep from wrinkling his nose as the odor of endless confined afternoons swept over them, rushing from the doorway like a tremendous sigh of recession and fatigue. Then Xan gestured him forward, and the strategist stepped into a darkness even deeper than the shadowed hallway, disappearing in the murk of a single, feeble oil lamp.

Through the twisting shadows of the flickering light, Zhou Yu made his way toward the vague lump of an occupied bed, his eyes moving restlessly across the unkempt room that looked more like a cell than an infirmary. It was easy to tell that the windows, barred and curtained, hadn't been opened through the entirety of Zhou Fan's illness – dust had collected inches deep along the braced sill and the folds of fabric blocking out the daylight. Years had probably passed since the sun poked its cleansing rays through the slats of the wooden shade to stab at the gathering gloom; the fickle oil flame seemed to bleach the color out of everything it touched, sapping the room until only black and pale gray registered before the swordsman's apprehensive eyes.

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when the shockingly white face lurched out of its blankets and flew into a sitting position, excitement highlighting the gaunt contours of its taut features – but it startled him badly anyway, shooting his pulse into battle tempo and stalling his steps against the coarse floor. For a moment, Zhou Yu almost believed he was staring into the eyes of a rotting ghoul, even more unnerving for the too-wide grin splitting its pallid features and the breathless laugher gurgling from its decaying throat.

"Yu? My son – is that you?"

The strategist couldn't summon a response – his tongue had gone completely dry at the croaking exclamation. Instead, he stepped forward and knelt down, offering his hand to the bony remains of the old man's fingers and dropping his gaze in a half-bow to avoid the glimmering relief shining in Zhou Fan's watery eyes. His father laughed, a disjointed and painful sound that jangled too loudly in the ears of his audience.

"Of course it is. Xan told me you were coming – I… I have your letter…"

One shaking hand reached somewhere into the soiled pillows and emerged with a well-worn piece of parchment, its letters smeared and edges rough with evidence of many rereadings. Zhou Fan clutched the document unsteadily to his ragged chest, and the strategist felt guilt drop into his stomach like a sinking stone at the possessive glee coloring the old man's cheeks. Zhou Yu had put too much thought and not enough words into his curt response, only writing what was necessary to announce his impending journey – looking at the sickly form of his father now in the weak light and realizing how tightly Zhou Fan had held to that scrap of contact through the previous fortnight, the swordsman almost wished he had written more.

"It's not an important letter, Father," he found himself murmuring, distasteful fault dropping his gaze from the uncannily captivating features of the man still gripping his hand like an iron vice. Zhou Fan shook his head fiercely, waving the letter through the stifling air above his nodding head and ruffling the remnants of faded hair clinging tenaciously to his scalp.

"Nonsense." Zhou Yu held his breath as his father's panting words pitched against his face, warm and stale with the scent of rotting teeth. "You've always written beautiful characters. Xan said so as well." Zhou Fan glanced at his youngest son for confirmation, and the strategist cast his brother a disbelieving glance over one shoulder. Xan raised an unruffled eyebrow.

"Your handwriting is akin to a scholar's. I suppose you've had a lot of practice." The dark swordsman bit back a scoff, returning his gaze to his father's beaming countenance and suppressing a light shiver at the cold hands tightening around his wrist.

"There is no shortage of paperwork in Wu."

If he had turned around, Zhou Yu was sure a slight smirk would have been twisting the young man's lips upward in sarcastic amusement. But his father's face instantly soured, creases forming in the ample skin of his forehead and making the taut features immeasurably more severe with a heavy frown. Zhou Fan glared at each of his sons in turn, raven eyes sharp with disapproval, and his hands moved in unreadable gestures of dismissal across his burdened lap.

"That's enough. No more talk about that infernal empire. I'll not have it in my household."

Zhou Yu started, completely shocked by the harsh reprimand of his kingdom, the kingdom ruled by a family once so close to Zhou Fan's own. The strategist's obsidian gaze flashed disbelievingly across his father's face, searching the falteringly firm features for any fragment of explanation to soften his absolute rejection. But it was Xan's voice that split the strained silence, drawing a deeper scowl onto Zhou Fan's ashen face with his nonchalant words.

"He won't hear of anything outside Shucheng. Qi wanted to see him as well when he was in town – but as soon as he mentioned Duke Cao, Father refused to speak to him any longer." The young man shrugged easily, condescending eyes moving almost sympathetically across Zhou Fan's blackened expression. "I suppose you can assume how much that pleased Qi, when he'd bothered to stop by at all."

Part of Zhou Yu's mind wanted to press his brother for information, wondering what Qi might have let slip about Cao Cao's ambitions during his short stay – but the rest of his attention was focused solely on his unyielding father, still struggling to comprehend the rigid line of his withered mouth. The strategist rose slowly to his feet, one hand still dangling limply in the old man's fingers and the other coursing through his thick hair as though seeking understanding in the wind-scattered strands.

"Father? Is that true?"

Zhou Fan huffed, digging his jagged fingernails into the swordsman's pale skin as though he feared his eldest son might move for the door at any moment. "Of course I didn't speak to him. What do I want with the dealings of the empire that stole my son away – either of the empires?" The old man nodded with sage heaviness, his chin drooping authoritatively against his sagging chest as he frowned fiercely up at the dark strategist in his clutches. "If those power-hungry mongrels hadn't been prowling around, leading people off left and right, Qi never would have left home – and you wouldn't have, either."

Refusing knowledge of the land's growing empires was foolish – but the man had never been a brilliant mind. Ignoring his sons' achievements and loyalties was inconsiderate – but rarely had the selfish veil lifted from his eyes, in all the years he had watched Shucheng from his hillside palace. But calling Sun Ce a power-hungry mongrel was something the swordsman would not stand for, even from the disillusioned lips of the ailing ancient Zhou Fan had become. Zhou Yu pulled his hand smoothly out of his father's grip and took a step back, regarding the man discontentedly from a short distance as distaste pooled in his stomach.

"No one led Qi and I away from home," the swordsman asserted softly, keeping his voice calm and steady despite the surprise spidering across Zhou Fan's face at his passably defiant reply. "We chose to leave. We each found a purpose that called for our assistance—"

"A purpose that could just as well have been fulfilled by others," the old man rasped in an escalating tone, banging one feeble fist against his dust-laden blankets. Zhou Yu felt deep furrows marring his forehead as his father shook one emaciated finger his direction, swallowing hard between every few words to keep his words as strong as illness allowed. "What need was there for you in Jiang Dong at sixteen – barely on the cusp of adulthood at all, let alone qualified to direct an army! Don't try to tell me you were indispensable."

The barbs stung furiously as they hurtled from Zhou Fan's lips and crashed into his eldest son's ears, as close to shouting as the man's failing voice could manage. Zhou Yu felt his eyes narrowing as irritation and insult swirled through his stomach, burning like a cold winter wind against the seams of his pride. He wanted to interrupt his father's baseless tirade – to cite Sun Jian's trust in his policies and his strategic victory at Zhenhai, and all the work he had done to keep the Tiger general's prefecture in fair condition. But Zhou Fan brushed his words away before they could even begin, gesturing for silence when the swordsman opened his mouth.

"Don't interrupt me!"

The old man looked more and more shriveled as his face became enraged, glowing with a passion that had undoubtedly lurked in his veins for countless years and waited for just such a release. Zhou Fan gripped his blankets in two sweaty hands as the sustained fury poured from his lips raw and unkind, losing some of its strength as his crackling voice pitched erratically. "You were too young to know what you wanted anyway – I should never have let you leave home with Sun Jian. He was an old family friend, and I…" The fire trickled out of his words like blowing embers, like the burning sacrifices on a funeral pyre. Zhou Fan shook his head sorrowfully, letting his eyes slip closed beneath their exhausted lids. "I was foolish. I thought you'd surely return once you'd had your fill of Fu Chun. This was your home, your family…"

For a fleeting moment, the piteous weakness shining in his father's eyes tugged at Zhou Yu's ribcage like a rough wire, stinging up and down his spine in a half-regretful prickle. Then the driving sparks returned to his father's coal-black eyes, and the old man's livid words stormed from his mouth again, fiercer for the vicious grip of his fingers in the bedding around him.

"It's all the fault of that Sun brat. If you hadn't become such good friends, he wouldn't have dragged you south with him in the first place. And now he's kept you from home for eight years, running around the Wu Territory instead of staying here where you belong—"

Zhou Yu straightened sharply, stiffening to his full height as the malicious jabs shifted to a target he wouldn't tolerate. "Don't speak of Sun Ce that way," he interjected, eyes narrowing with intense irritation. Zhou Fan stuttered to a stop, staring at his oldest son in open astonishment as though he had never dreamed the young man would dare to interrupt him. The strategist shook his head firmly. "It was my choice to leave this place, not his. If you want to be angry with someone, you'll have to be angry with me." As much as it stung to have his greatest effort – the conquest of Wu and the foundation of their empire – thrown away as worthless by the flippant old man, the swordsman would accept no scapegoat for his decisions. Especially not Sun Ce.

Zhou Fan gaped open-mouthed at his eldest son as the strategist met his gaze steadily, obsidian eyes resolute between the fringe of his dark bangs and equally unapologetic as his voice. "I wanted to leave Shucheng for my own reasons – the Sun family merely gave me that opportunity. If I hadn't accompanied Sun Jian, I'd have joined someone else."

Or perhaps it was truly Sun Ce that gave him that opportunity – the opportunity to reach outside of his bland existence, to accept the greater reality of a world that allowed for chasing dreams. Zhou Yu watched his father almost regretfully as the man shrunk back into his ample pillows, startled by the complete seriousness consuming his son's countenance and the deathly stillness coating his words. "There was nothing for me in Shucheng – and there was nothing for Qi, either. We both wanted to find something worth dedicating our lives to. It was our choice to make – and I know neither of us has regretted that choice, regardless of where it led us."

For the first time in his memory, Zhou Yu almost felt kinship with his second brother stirring in his veins, soft and faltering but present nonetheless. He couldn't truly speak for Qi's reasons, of course, and there was no way of knowing whether Duke Cao's wealth had actually lured him north – but something about the burning ambition he remembered in those serpentine eyes made the strategist believe that their motives for leaving must have been similar, even though their paths wound so divergent. Wu's loyal swordsman shook his head slowly, eyes flickering across his father's unsteady breathing and the shock suffusing his face as Xing Dao's words rang back to him, cold and hard against the column of his spine.

"I apologize if the choices we have made displease you. But I cannot apologize for mistakes I have not made – and I will not apologize for following Sun Ce to Jiang Dong."

He would never apologize for following Sun Ce anywhere.

For a long moment after his voice fell silent, the strategist could only stare openly into the shaken old man's charcoal eyes, letting his sincerity echo across the space between them. Then Zhou Fan's face settled into grave thought, his disapproving gaze roving unhappily across his son's set features in a series of quick, glancing passes. Zhou Yu waited silently, watching his father's hands restless in his lap and listening to the soundless dance of dust motes through the air around them. Xan shifted in the doorway. At last the old man sighed, slumping back into his malodorous pillows and motioning the swordsman closer with one shaking hand.

"Come here."

Zhou Yu blinked, confusion marring his pale forehead at the resignation coloring his father's countenance. Hesitation stirred like butterfly wings in his stomach, but he ignored it and stepped forward, kneeling at the frail man's bedside once more. It was impossible to read intentions in Zhou Fan's eyes as he raised a trembling hand and reached toward his eldest son's face, bone-like fingers almost scraping the smooth skin, and the swordsman quietly braced himself for the chilling touch of near-rotting flesh.

When it came, no amount of preparation was enough. Zhou Fan pulled back and slapped his eldest son full across the face, uncut nails slashing into the surface of his skin. "Don't argue with me," he ordered solemnly, yellowed teeth peering angrily from beneath his upper lip.

Zhou Yu stared, his jaw falling open in complete shock. Xan's footsteps pounded like hail across the room as he ran for his father, catching the old man's wizened arm in a tight grip and yanking Zhou Fan roughly from the swarming blankets with a force that dragged the vicious gaze up to his.

"Father, what are you doing?" The young man's incredulity rang through the room in a near shout as the swordsman raised a disbelieving hand to his cheek, feeling the warmth of pulsing blood beneath his fingertips and the sting of impact ricocheting through his flesh. Zhou Fan glared unrepentantly up at his son and shook the youth's startled hand away, turning his face to the covered window as though in utter disinterest of the chaos he'd initiated.

"Disobedient children are punished for their misbehavior," the old man muttered, glancing at his eldest son as though to weigh the penitence he anticipated. Zhou Yu listened to the rush of his pulse through the abraded flesh and felt the imprint of the knuckled hand throbbing against his face, narrowing his eyes from their startled span to a blank, unseeing stare.

Disobedient children. But he wasn't a child anymore – not by any stretch his father might invent. He was almost twenty-four. He was an accomplished swordsman, a hardened general. He was the intellect behind Sun Ce's conquest of the Wu Territory – behind the strength of his empire. The insult stung far more than the imprint on his skin, and it overwhelmed the pattern of his thoughts until he could hardly make sense of the contrasting, confused impulses coursing through him. Only one thought managed to break through the haze of his tangled emotion overruling his reason-driven mind – and it was this thought that raised him to his full height, turning him away from Zhou Fan's bedside and slinging the weak light of the oil lamp from his troubled features.

Perhaps Sun Ce was right. Perhaps he shouldn't have returned to Shucheng at all.

With the soft steps of a summer storm, Zhou Yu began to move, stepping carefully over the littered floor without a backward glance. He could hear Xan straightening behind him and his father scrabbling against the blankets, struggling to sit up as his son picked a slow way across the disaster his illness had wrought throughout the room. The strategist didn't stop until he reached the doorway, and then it was only the thin reed of the old man's voice that called his steps to a halt on the verge of the lessening shadows.

"Where are you going?" Somehow, Zhou Fan still sounded angry, as though the blow he'd dealt his eldest son hadn't dimmed his fury in the slightest. Zhou Yu ran a quiet hand against his throbbing cheek, feeling the tiny lines of blood stick to his fingertips where his father's fingernails must have broken the skin. The bed shifted impatiently behind him and the swordsman stared aimlessly down the empty corridor ahead, considering his answer in the unforgiving darkness of the doorway.

Where was there to go, anyway? He couldn't stay in the stifling room any longer – that was all he knew.

At his lack of reply, Zhou Fan's muffled twistings became more urgent, slipping through the empty gloom like a rasping file. His voice, when it came again, was astonishingly weak, as though all the fire and resolve in his scolding tirade had disintegrated with his son's movement toward the door. Zhou Yu didn't have to look back to discern the piteous pleading no doubt flooding his father's gaunt face, filling the emaciated crevices of wrinkled skin with fear and uncertainty.

"You're not… leaving, are you? So soon?"

Perhaps that was the right thing to do. Jump back on the horses and ride away, leave Shucheng and all its complicated inhabitants to the mercy of his past – leave the situation unresolved, unfinished, and escape before the tension streaming through Zhou Fan's entreaty formed deeper scars than the few across his face. But the swordsman knew it wasn't an option – he had vowed to fulfill his father's last, selfish wish, and he had never looked kindly on running away. Zhou Yu shook his head wordlessly, feeling the soft strands of his dark hair teasing his bleeding cheek as the frail man's sigh of relief ricocheted throughout the corridor.

"You'll come back, then. Tomorrow? Will I see you tomorrow?"

And once again, for what couldn't be the last time, the strategist was left wondering why his father wanted to see him at all. What good would come of his return to the house in a different day's light – what could a few last visits really do to alleviate the disagreement his return had only aggravated? Why had Zhou Fan summoned him at all? Why had he agreed to come? There was nothing in the broken home that a few days' reunion could repair, and so much more that it could destroy. But Zhou Yu had no answers to his questions – no more answers than he'd had weeks ago, when Xing Dao stood disapprovingly in Qingshan's audience chamber and riddled him with unproven culpability. No more answers, it seemed, than he would ever have.

"Tomorrow," he murmured, and the word wove between the gathering shadows like a set of binding shackles. Then he resumed his silent progression down the hallway, ignoring the pleased babbling in his father's satisfied voice and the idle smirk he could almost hear slipping across Xan's face. Zhou Yu brushed his bangs roughly away from the complicated eyes they covered and increased his pace, moving quickly across the dust and shattered cobweb strings as though the sickly room were following at his heels, threatening to swallow him back into its impenetrable darkness if he misstepped.

The strategist couldn't think about the men behind him or the knot of snarled emotion lurking in his stomach – he focused on the walls instead, tracing every line of texture with his piercing gaze as the plaster and wood panels flowed into one another and emphasized the flecks of chipping paint missing from their surfaces. It didn't take long for the sunlit corridor they'd first passed through to appear ahead of him – and with it, a restless figure leaning against the eastern wall, his eyes as uncertain as his posture. Sun Ce straightened at the sight of his swordsman and took a few hurried steps into the concealed passage, meeting Zhou Yu in the mouth of the doorway with wary curiosity drowning his countenance.

"Yu? Is everything okay? I thought I heard yelling…" The strategist stalled at his companion's side, meeting the Sun lord's inquisitive gaze for only a brief moment before his glance leapt away again and settled on the empty windowsill. One warm hand dropped onto his forearm, the touch asking questions that echoed through his eyes as Sun Ce reached out and brushed his swordsman's cheek – his tan fingers moved in open surprise over the small cuts Zhou Fan's nails had carved into his son's skin. "You're bleeding…"

Zhou Yu winced, turning his face away from the stinging contact and moving out of the Little Conqueror's reach toward the light of the blazing afternoon sun where it pooled on the unswept floor. The illumination filling every corner of the hallway was such a welcome release from the dank isolation of his father's infirmary that the strategist almost sighed, letting the fresh air of an untended garden fill his lungs and brush the furrows from his worried forehead even as Sun Ce huffed and pursued him, planting himself squarely in the swordsman's field of vision once more and taking a firm hold of his shoulder.

"What happened down there? And where did you get this?" Once again his palm grazed the injury marring his companion's pale cheek, and Zhou Yu frowned, jerking away from the cautious fingers and glaring lightly into the Sun lord's insistent stare.

"That hurts." Sun Ce withdrew his hand immediately, but the rampant curiosity in his fervent gaze skimmed across the strategist's face in place of his inquisitive fingers, searching the evasive obsidian eyes for any hints to the origin of the blood slowly drying on his face. The young officer shifted his weight and dug his fingers into Zhou Yu's silk shirt, forcing the unresponsive swordsman to meet his exasperated glare.

"Hey. Would you talk to me here?" The strategist pressed his lips into a thin line as he met his companion's serious amber eyes, suppressing the urge to simply jerk out of the Sun lord's hold and disappear down the dust-ridden corridor without explaining anything. Sun Ce blew his unruly bangs out of his face and aimed an adamant thumb over his shoulder at the passage behind them, glancing back and forth between his captive swordsman and the silent hallway leading to Zhou Fan's quarters. "What happened? Everything was peaceful down here for a couple minutes, and then it was like the whole place erupted. I heard someone yelling—"

"We had an argument." Zhou Yu stepped away from his companion and turned his head to confront the wall, ignoring the tug of tight fingers in his shirt as Sun Ce gaped at him wide-eyed. The strategist frowned fiercely at the peeling plaster and shook his head, cutting off the syllables that floundered at the edge of the Sun lord's lips before they could start. "I don't want to talk about it. Especially not here. Just leave it alone, Ce."

The Little Conqueror stared at his swordsman in startled silence for a long moment, curiosity and consideration chasing each other across his features in a succession of almost visible thoughts – then the young officer shook his head, a slight smile scattering his sober contemplation. "Okay – not here," he assented, sliding one warm hand down his companion's arm until he could wind his fingers between the strategist's. "But there's no way you're getting away with that. I've got to know what you were arguing about – the suspense was killing me."

Zhou Yu opened his mouth to tell the lord of Wu how little he cared whether eager curiosity had him bouncing off the walls during the course of their miserable visit, but Sun Ce cut him off, pressing two quick fingers against the swordsman's lips before any more curt words could escape. The Sun lord shook his head, smiling despite his companion's less than amused expression and urging Zhou Yu back into the main corridor with an insistent pull on his hand. "Not here – I got it. Let's go find somewhere to spend the night, okay? Then you can tell me the whole story."

The dark strategist scoffed, brushing errant strands of hair away from his face as his feet reluctantly settled into the young officer's encouraging pace and the ridiculous suggestion momentarily distracted him. "Shucheng has no inn, Ce. Where are you planning to lodge?"

Sun Ce shrugged unconcernedly at the terse inquisition, chestnut ponytail dancing from shoulder to shoulder as he slung a carefree arm behind his head. "I don't know. Wherever we can. How about in somebody's stable? I've always wanted to do that." Zhou Yu rolled his eyes, letting their joined hands rock back and forth through the clement afternoon breeze as he raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Don't be ridiculous. Sleeping in a stable is hardly sanitary. Besides, what are you going to do if we get sick—"

Abruptly, the swordsman stopped, staring at his upbeat companion as the easy banter suddenly registered in his ears and stalled his feet against the floor. The Little Conqueror paused halfway through a purposeful stride and turned back to look at him, one hand awkwardly fisted and confusion blinking through his amber eyes. "Yu? What's the matter?"

Zhou Yu felt his mouth falling slightly open as he watched the subtle wind trailing through Sun Ce's hair and across his untroubled features – then the strategist shook his head, feeling a tiny spark of gratitude teasing the edges of his lips. It was one of the most incomprehensible things about his unpredictable companion – no matter the circumstance, the Sun lord always seemed to know how to banish the shadows that lingered in his swordsman's obsidian eyes. Zhou Yu glanced out the nearby window and back to his commander in quick succession, meeting the young officer's questioning gaze with a slight smile.

"Thank you."

Sun Ce blinked, the light of the summer sun flitting through his vibrant eyes – then a trademark grin spread victoriously across his face, and he laughed as he shot Zhou Yu an unguarded wink. The Sun lord tightened his grip on his strategist's hand and set off down the corridor again, almost humming under his breath as they sloshed through patches of warm sunlight and headed for the entrance hall.

"Come on, Yu. It'll be an experience. If you never experience anything, you might as well not have lived at all. How many people do you know who've ever slept in a stable? Maybe we'll be the first."

Zhou Yu just shook his head again, unable to answer as a thin stream of chuckles stole between his lips and got lost in the thread of their footsteps. The shadows of the entrance hall creased their backs for a moment and then vanished almost as swiftly as they had come, disappearing under the pulse of the steady sunlight as Sun Ce dragged his dark swordsman into the afternoon air. The young lord stretched cheerfully and whirled to face his strategist, nearly bursting with energy now that the decaying house was behind them and the beautiful valley stretched as far as vision allowed in each direction.

"I think that's more than enough angsting for one day. From now on, I'm officially declaring this trip a vacation, got it?" The young officer poked one stern finger into his companion's chest for emphasis, frowning up into his skeptical onyx eyes. "I don't want another depressing thought to cross your mind. Good? Good! Now let's get rolling."

Zhou Yu smiled darkly at the back of the Sun lord's rustling ponytail, recognizing only too well the futility of the Little Conqueror's demand. He couldn't help dreading the return to his father's withered estate that the falling evening and rising sun would bring, and the conflict that two weeks' tension hadn't brought him any closer to resolving. By the tight knot of tension winding through his stomach, the strategist knew it wouldn't take long before the shadows of Zhou Fan's reception recaptured his mind again. And there was no knowing what scars his next visit to the crumbling estate would bring with it…

But just for a moment, he was content to let the weight of responsibility slip from his shoulders – to follow Sun Ce's open hand wherever it led. Even if that lead truly ended in a borrowed stable.

End Chapter 38

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This chapter… took forever. I apologize. The last few weeks of summer were very complicated, both for me personally and in determining exactly what the rest of this story needs to encompass, and it took a little longer than normal to finish this as a product of those things. However, now that I'm back in school for the semester, I should have more time to write (how ironic), and hopefully the next chapters will not take nearly so long to complete. Again, my apologies for the delays.

A note for Schlicky/Jen: Well, my update is even later than your review, so don't worry about it. Of course, last chapter was mostly just a prequel for this one – and this one is mostly a prequel for the next one – but I'm glad you enjoyed it, in any case. I actually thought about cutting Sun Ce's joke, because technically it wouldn't work in Chinese since it's based on homonyms, but I hope it was at least a little amusing in any case. And for future reference: shall I call you by your new penname?

A note for EverKitsune: I'll admit the wagon scene may have been torturing Zhou Yu a little more than he deserves, but I'd like the end of the story to have heightened tension in all aspects, and pushing him closer to death in the 'present' time frame should help with that. Sun Ce's great strength is his unfailing optimism and his refusal to give up, and I try to write that into the story as much as possible. I did read some of your story "Dancing With the Blossoms," and although I was a little confused by the sequence of events, I nonetheless thought you pulled together a good conclusion. Good luck with your future stories as well. Thank you for your continued feedback.

A note for xxxLOVEtheSINNER: In fact, you're absolutely right – it is very difficult to research all of the details for this story, especially small details about culture and artifacts such as materials used, the size and shape of nobility houses, and whether ancestral tablets were made of wood or stone (I stumped my Chinese history teacher with that one). I really enjoy the research, however, so it's not something I really consider a chore. I'm honored that you noticed, though. Thanks for your review.