Chapter Twenty-Three: Veiled Plots
One scheme is slowly planned out, while a second awaits its execution.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The melodious rings of sword and chakrams skillfully meeting and then parting in mid-air sailed through the branches of flowering peach trees. Liu Bei and Sun Shang Xiang, likewise, met and then parted in perfect sync with their respective weapons.
"Stealing your own brother's army, dueling General Zhang He at Chi Bi, and impersonating a pageboy," Liu Bei gently teased, as he countered a strike from his young wife. "Lady, what other secrets have you been keeping from me?"
"You mean besides finding out how difficult it is to dress you?" Sun Shang Xiang shot back with a cheeky grin.
Her answer was a generous laugh, and a lighthearted sliding slash that Liu Bei knew she could easily counter. Emboldened by her husband's blithe reaction, Sun Shang Xiang pretended to look thoughtful as she spun the most colorful lie her mind could come up with on the spot.
"Well, I suppose my father never told you about the time he betrothed me to one of Lord Gongsun Zan's sons immediately after the Battle of Chi Bi, all for the sake of luring him to Wu and assassinating him to regain the three cities that my brother had just lost to the Gongsun Clan," she added innocently.
Liu Bei turned white and froze, with the end result being that his left ear was almost neatly cleaved from his head by his new bride's Sol Chakrams. Sun Shang Xiang didn't know whether to laugh at his aghast reaction, or run to his side and inquire after his health—so she chose to do both.
Letting her chakrams drop to the ground with a clang, the princess of Wu swiftly jogged over to her husband and took his face in her hands in a grip far more affectionate than she had ever doled out.
"Are you all right? Are you bleeding?" she asked tenderly, tracing his ear with her index finger.
Then, as if realizing what she was doing, a wave of pink assaulted her cheeks. She abruptly dropped her hands and turned away, unwilling to let her husband see her blush. Blushing was for soft, feminine girls—girls who knew how to dance and sing, who wore misty silks and fragrant flowers, who teased and flirted and giggled into their handkerchiefs when teased and flirted with back, and who coyly hid their faces behind painted fans or brocade sleeves. She, Sun Shang Xiang, a woman warrior, did not dance or sing or flirt, had no patience for silks or flowers, giggles or perfumes, and certainly did not blush.
To cover up her embarrassment, the tomboyish princess tossed back her head and gave what she hoped was an airy laugh.
"I can't believe how gullible you are; couldn't you tell I was just joking?" Sun Shang Xiang mocked.
She felt a hand gently hold her shoulder, before her husband's now-familiar voice spoke up near her ear.
"No. I'm inclined to give my wife all my trust," Liu Bei admitted quietly.
His wife's subsequent smile outshone even the jealous sun in lighting up the court.
Awake or asleep, cheery or somber, Guan Yu always managed to cut a noble, imposing image, one that had led his peers to aptly nickname him the God of War. The proud colossus was a pillar of strength for the Shu-Han, the leader of the Tiger Generals, the warrior with thick silkworm brows and snapping phoenix eyes, and the man of the beautiful beard.
Unfortunately for the mighty God of War, however, nobody had thought to teach a certain aristocrat-turned-handmaid that beautiful beards—unlike beautiful hair—were not to be plaited, beribboned, festooned, or otherwise embellished in any ways.
On the early afternoon that Liu Bei and Sun Shang Xiang were mock-dueling each other, Guan Yu happened to fall asleep in his chair, one powerful hand still resting on a halfway-annotated collection of The Spring and Autumn Annals. While the noble general napped, a small pretty figure, kneeling on a silken cushion at his feet, gleefully continued weaving his luxuriant beard into a thousand slender braids.
Zhao Yun, sitting on a low stool diagonally from the culprit and obligingly holding her comb and ribbons for her, watched with amusement as the girl plowed through her work. An indulgent smile crossed his face without his realizing it, when he noticed Xi Tian sacrificing several peach blossoms and frosty lotuses from her own raven hair to adorn Guan Yu's new braids.
"You are perhaps the bravest person beneath the Heavens for daring to do this," the youthful warrior remarked playfully, motioning toward Guan Yu's radically transformed beard with a nod of his head.
Xi Tian giggled and made a silly face at the younger of the two Shu officers, her slender fingers deftly disappearing and reappearing from amongst Guan Yu's bushy locks.
"Well, I have to practice on someone if I'm to be a handmaid for your kingdom's new queen," she replied, triumphantly wrinkling her nose at Zhao Yun when the latter held up both palms to indicate acquiescence.
While she spoke, she raised one hand to her hair to take out the last ornamental lotus delicately tucked into its tresses. After a frown and a quick check with the nearest mirror, Xi Tian stood up, intent on embarking on a blossom quest.
"I have to get some more flowers; don't let General Guan move from this spot," she sang out, and was off in a soft rustling of silk skirts.
"Don't get lost," Zhao Yun called out teasingly after her departing back.
He was pretty sure he'd been answered by a faint but nevertheless indignant, "Hn!" but he didn't have long to muse over this: Guan Yu was beginning to stir.
Zhao Yun had just enough time to mutter a hasty curse under his breath, before his fellow Tiger General woke up. One silkworm brow lifted in mild surprise at finding this unexpected visitor, before Guan Yu said inquiringly, "Zilong, is there something you're looking for?"
While he spoke, the green-clad warrior began drawing himself to his full height. Zhao Yun started at this movement, for there was a mirror hanging on the wall directly within the taller man's line of vision. Quickly leaping to his feet as well, Zhao Yun maneuvered before Guan Yu, doing his best to cover up that pesky tool of vanity just waiting to reveal Xi Tian's handiwork.
"Ah…I came in a few minutes ago to, um…borrow…something," Zhao Yun mumbled lamely.
Chivalry had never taught him to be a proficient liar, as evidenced by the skeptical lift of a brow from the older general. Luck seemed against him on that particular day as well, for while Zhao Yun was frantically trying to think of ways to divert Guan Yu, who should enter but the latter's two teenaged sons, Guan Ping and Guan Xing.
"Father—" both boys started to say, but that perfunctory greeting was as far as they got.
Guan Ping abruptly froze in his tracks upon catching sight of his adopted father, his jaw dropping with an audible pop and hanging unattractively open for several seconds.
"What in the—" he started to sputter, a dumbfounded look on his face, but managed to catch his tongue at the last minute.
Guan Xing, however, uninhibited by the restrictions and tact of young adulthood, promptly burst out laughing.
His father arched both eyebrows, shooting his second son a reproving look…until he caught his reflection in the boys' well-polished armors. Something was amiss…Why were there so many splashes of pink and peach intermingled with his charcoal beard?
Despite Zhao Yun's best efforts, Guan Yu managed to march past the younger general and stride up to the mirror for a better view. His phoenix eyes almost took flight from their sockets upon seeing his decisively unimposing reflection, before he frowned and turned accusingly to a certain Changshan native.
"Zilong, you have some explaining to do," came forth the simple, but stern, command.
Cao Cao gingerly rubbed his temples with two fingers as he strolled down one of the numerous carved paths snaking across the Wei palace's pleasure gardens. He was a man of great ambitions, the greatest among these being the eventual reunification of China under his own flags.
Souring weddings, however, was definitely not one of his aforementioned goals.
But, after all, more unorthodox methods were not unheard of when it came to cultivating victory. If tearing apart the Wu-Shu alliance meant that Cao Cao had to plan out a trivial raid to make sure his two enemies' marriage started off on the wrong note, then pride was not going to stand in his way of stooping to such pettiness.
Cao Cao paused, leaving his home-wrecking plans unfinished, as he came across a cluster of tall, pink-and-white-frothed magnolias. And who should be standing—or rather, lurking—behind these than Sima Yi?
The ever-scheming Wei strategist was quietly swishing his fan back and forth while keeping an attentive eye on a pavilion in the distance. Cao Cao followed Sima Yi's thoughtful gaze, and could discern only two fairly innocuous figures sitting on the stone benches: Lord Xi and Jiang Wei. The two appeared to be playing chess, while at the same time discussing something—probably poetry or philosophy.
Taking long, loping strides, Cao Cao efficiently closed the gap between himself and his advisor. Sima Yi looked startled upon seeing his leader emerge from seemingly nowhere, before ingrained courtesy overrode his surprise and he dropped a graceful bow.
"My lord."
Cao Cao arched an eyebrow.
"I can only assume you have a good reason for spying on my honored guest and an officer of my own army," he drawled languidly.
Sima Yi allowed a baleful half-smile to cross his face. In low, almost conspiratorial tones, he proceeded to disclose, "I am starting to believe that this new friendship between our young Boyue and Lord Xi can be quite advantageous for Wei."
Cao Cao looked at once interested and a bit dubious.
"How so?" he wanted to know.
Sima Yi, lost in thought, failed to reply. Cao Cao, however, didn't press him—he could sense that the devious tactician was already working on a plan.
Xi Tian rummaged through a small, sandalwood chest where she kept most of her jewelry and hair ornaments, as well as some personal mementos and letters. As she selected a pair of viridian-colored flowers which she personally thought would complement Guan Yu's green robes divinely, her eyes swept over the corners of a letter, carefully folded and tucked at the bottom of the little lacquered box.
Dark thunderclouds settled over her eyes, as she remembered its contents—or rather, its instructions.
"How's that going to create dissention?" she'd once asked the letter's one-eyed bearer.
After witnessing the pre-wedding chaos that had reigned over Liu Bei's bride's courts, she no longer had such questions.
Her fingers absently toyed with the folded pages, tracing circles over their surface, while her brows knitted together in a thoughtful frown. The plan outlined within could certainly work: the Sun princess had a feisty personality, and was easily prone to outbursts of temper.
With an irritable little sigh, Xi Tian slammed the chest closed so that she wouldn't have to see that letter again. She then stood up and walked out of her room, heading not toward Guan Yu's quarters, but instead taking a detour to the lavish courts where the palace's newlyweds were playfully sparring.