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 to a very minor extent).
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Secession – EpilogueFor a long time, as the sunlight shone through the windows of the silent room and spread into a golden pool across the coarse carpet, neither Zhou Tai nor Sun Quan moved, the young ruler kneeling motionless at Zhou Yu's side as his bodyguard stood solemnly behind him. Not a sound reached their ears but the rhythm of their dissident breathing, the beat of each man's pulse in his wrist, and the distant calls of birds singing back and forth in a cloudless sky, their high voices ignorant of the mourning encircling the swordsman's final quarters.
Sun Quan's lips held their tight line without faltering, and his features were frozen beneath the weight of his ice-gray eyes, as stoic as the granite warrior at his side and the walls standing in sentry around them. Then the Lord of Wu got slowly to his feet and reached across the bed to pull the coverlet over his strategist's unmoving body, dragging the fabric up to the stern officer's chin so that everything but his blood-lined mouth was hidden from view, the wreckage of his ruined ribs swallowed by folds of careless fabric.
Zhou Tai shifted in his stance, and his slate eyes trailed to the windowsill as his master straightened and crossed both arms over his chest, the youthful contours of his hardened face retaining their heavy frown. Then the granite warrior began to sing, his low tone tripping into an archaic melody that echoed like cascading gravel beneath his unremarkable voice.
"Oh soul, come back… in the east you cannot abide. Oh soul, come back. In the south you cannot stay…"
Sun Quan closed his eyes, and then he took up the traditional summoning song as well, his voice meshing into matching tenor with his guardian's as it drifted through the soft sunlight and over the quiet corpse.
"Oh soul, go not to the west – oh soul, go not to the north. Oh soul, come back… climb not to Heaven above. Oh soul, come back… go not down to the land of darkness."
The words rang in their ears for a lingering moment, and then they were gone, disappearing under a breath of wind that ruffled Sun Quan's hanging sleeves and the strands of Zhou Tai's braided hair. The young ruler ran his tongue over dry lips and his gaze settled onto the handsome face of the dark warrior, studying the features that their plea had not revived – then a heavy sigh escaped him and relaxed his shoulders under his thick robe, drawing gray eyes back to the face of the loyal officer standing in his shadow.
"Rest in peace, Zhou Yu…"
Zhou Tai dipped his head in a shallow bow, the daylight playing across his scars with the texture of moving water. The Lord of Wu turned for the door and his guardian followed without a word, echoing his young ruler's footsteps as they crossed the soundless room and left the aura of death behind them.
The knocks delivered to the barricaded door had stopped some time earlier, leaving the corridor beyond Zhou Yu's everlasting quarters in unchallenged silence – but when Sun Quan drew the wooden barrier aside and stepped into the sunlit hallway once again, it was to find three faces waiting for him, each expression drawn in a different degree of concern.
Lu Xun lifted his head and his cinnamon eyes were wide with apprehension, surveying his master's face as Lady Qiao straightened in her stance beside him. Xiao Qiao pushed away from the opposite wall and moved to stand in front of Sun Quan, her hands knotted into worried butterflies over her chest – one look at his face dragged the hovering tears down her cheeks and whirled her back into her sister's arms, and Lady Qiao's embrace held her up as the older girl locked her hands into the shaking silk, soothing the young widow with gentle fingers.
"Shh… shh, it's all right, Little Bird. Shh…"
Lu Xun closed his eyes, sorrow and respect chasing each other across his expression as his lips moved in a silent chant and his hands softened from their anxious fists to rest still at his side. Sun Quan watched them all for a moment, his lips never leaving the confines of their stoic frown – then he turned and moved away down the empty corridor, leaving the three to their private grieving and letting his footfalls fill the air of the motionless walkway.
He was halfway to his quarters when a hand on his shoulder stopped him, and the Lord of Wu turned back to see that Zhou Tai had caught up with his unwavering strides, penetrating slate eyes scanning his countenance. The young ruler raised an eyebrow, returning his guardian's stare as they stood frozen in the hallway without even the currents of the summer wind swirling around them. Then Zhou Tai withdrew his hand and tilted his head to one side, gesturing toward the front of the palace with a stoic nod.
"Come with me."
Sun Quan pressed his lips tighter together and said nothing, but he did as requested, following his guardian through the corridors and down the front steps of the central estate, past the wagon that had brought Zhou Yu from the front lines and through the expansive courtyard until at last they reached the fortress's outer wall. The sun was climbing ever higher into the clear sky, and it shone on their necks as they ascended to the top of the parapet, warming the officers under their morning robes and lighting the world around them with the glory of its golden rays.
Zhou Tai stopped when they reached the balustrade, and he rested both hands against the rammed earth as Sun Quan came to a halt beside him, two pairs of eyes gazing out at Nan County and the road that stretched across it like a line of faded ink. The granite warrior said nothing, but they both knew he didn't have to – a long moment passed in silence and then the Lord of Wu sighed, leaning forward so that the railing supported his elbows and he could massage his temples with a weary hand.
"I lost a brother today."
His murmur vanished into the heavy summer air, superseded by the scrape of his slippers against the earthen floor as he shifted in place. Zhou Tai nodded, his eyes never leaving the landscape around them.
"But you did not cry for this one."
Sun Quan rubbed a hand against his lips, his face contorting under a severe scowl as he adjusted the neckline of his robes. "I do not have that liberty anymore," the young ruler replied, his sea-gray eyes scouring the texture of his hardened palm before he pressed it flat against the wall. "This is my empire, and it cannot afford to have a childish ruler standing at its head… I would be dishonoring my father and brother if I were to remain weak when I am trying to fulfill their dreams."
Zhou Tai chuckled, and the unusual sound drew his master's gaze up to his solemn face, only the bare hint of a smile curving his marble lips. The loyal guardian shook his head, and his posture relaxed as his eyes followed a line of birds sweeping across the cerulean sky, their sharp wings cutting a path through the early morning.
"Weak… crying does not make you weak, Master Sun Quan. It makes you human."
Sun Quan frowned, his hands grinding into fists as he straightened against the wall. "Perhaps Wu cannot afford that either," he snapped, his voice harsh despite the gentle breeze.
Zhou Tai said nothing further, and for a long time the two men stood wordlessly at the top of the parapet, their mouths set into similar frowns. The Lord of Wu ran a hand through his hair, his eyes scanning the horizons of his kingdom as he ground his teeth together – but they both knew he could not stop himself from breaking his guardian's silence, because he had never been able to before.
"When I was a child, I…" Sun Quan shook his head, a half-smile falling onto his lips though amusement did not grace his somber expression. "I cried all the time. I cried over nothing. And my brother… until his last breath, he never stopped teasing me for it. Ce knew I was a weakling, but he handed his kingdom to me in spite of that – he told me to stop being such a child. How could I betray him after… after he was willing to trust me with everything he'd worked for?"
Zhou Tai pressed his lips together, and for a moment the granite warrior did not answer, watching the patterns of birds moving around them and the sunlight reflecting across the gravel of the road that unfolded into the west. Then the young ruler's guardian straightened to his full height and his gaze came to rest on his master's hardened features, as unreadable as the contours of his chiseled face.
"If Lord Sun Ce were still alive… do you think he would be crying?"
Sun Quan started, stepping back from the balustrade as his eyes dashed across Zhou Tai's face and his mouth fell slightly open in unconcealed surprise. Then the young ruler collected his scattered composure, and he turned back to face the countryside glowing beneath the newly risen sun, avoiding his protector's stare as his frown reclaimed its familiar place.
"That's – that's different, Zhou Tai. They were…"
The Lord of Wu lost his words halfway and settled for rubbing a weary hand across his brow, banishing the startled furrows that the granite warrior's question had caused as another sigh slipped over his tongue. Zhou Tai raised an eyebrow, directing his gaze beyond the line of the wall as a tiny shrug rolled through his shoulders.
"Perhaps. But Xiao Qiao is also crying, and there was little between them."
Sun Quan only shook his head, and his guardian waited for a long moment before he leaned forward to brace his body against the railing, a soft exhale parting his stone lips and drifting out into the warmth of the sunshine.
"In the times of the sage kings, all those present at a funeral wept when they faced the body of the deceased. During the Zhou and the Han, the same honors were observed. Now there are so many dead in a day that every eye seems to have lost its access to tears." The Lord of Wu blinked as he turned to find his warrior's gaze, and Zhou Tai smiled, the expression unfamiliar against his stony features. "To cry upon losing one whom you love is not a weakness, Lord Sun Quan. It is only an acknowledgement of that love. There is nothing to be ashamed of in loving someone."
Sun Quan pressed his lips into a thin line, the sunlight coalescing in his eyes and melting a little of the ice that had built up within their ocean depths. The young ruler swallowed hard, his composure faltering just slightly as he reached out to rest one uncertain hand against his guardian's shoulder, hesitation underwriting his steady tone.
"Zhou Tai…" The warrior nodded, his slate eyes focused only on his master's countenance, and Sun Quan took a deep breath, his gaze drifting out across the earthen wall to fix on a distant point of the sky. "If I… if I were to die…" Sea-gray eyes swept back across the terrain to find his guardian's face, counting the scars that had been earned on his behalf over a decade earlier. "Would you cry for me?"
Zhou Tai's smile deepened, the curve of his lips filling out as his hand came up to cover the Lord of Wu's where it waited against his shoulder. His weathered fingers traced Sun Quan's and trailed down to wrap around the younger man's wrist, keeping them together with a simple knot.
"Not only I," he murmured, shaking his head as an expression of calm sincerity slipped across his features. "Every person with whom your path has ever crossed would be unable to keep from doing so. Yours is a heart that inspires love in those who know you, even without their intention."
The Lord of Wu let out a heavy sigh, and then he turned to face his kingdom, leaning into the strength of the balustrade and dropping his head into his hands. As his shoulders began to shake, Zhou Tai pressed his palm into the young ruler's back in an offer of silent comfort, and then he gazed out across the land of the rising sun, his slate eyes echoing the warmth of the blazing summer morning.
"I would cry, too… if I lost you…"
Sun Quan's muffled murmur broke through his fingers to reach the granite warrior's ears, and Zhou Tai's mouth fell into another smile, the expression shifting over his stoic face like the flicker of shadows beneath a passing cloud. The steadfast guardian lifted his eyes to the infinite sky and let the unscarred cerulean consume his gaze, nodding against the whispering breeze.
"I know. And that is why I will follow you to the far corners of the earth, wherever your road may lead me, until the end of my days."
.x.
The room that the Qiao sisters shared in the north wing of Han Ni Castle was silent, but it wasn't empty. Xiao Qiao sat on the foot of her bed with both legs dangling over the side of the soft mattress, her feet swinging in slow arcs that set her robes swaying above the soft carpet, and the sound of silk rustling against her sheets was the only noise in the stillness. The young woman's face was still flushed with the sting of her drying tears, but her sobs had stopped and her pretty hazel eyes were clear again; her gaze trailed into the distance as though the future were laid out across the expanse of air before her, permitting study of its inscrutable pathways as the breeze picked up and raced around the quiet quarters, stirring the bedclothes and cooling her sorrowed skin with its passing touch.
As she watched the leaves shivering outside her window, Xiao Qiao let out a tiny sigh, and she shook her head a little, braids bouncing back and forth against her lithe shoulders. Three children were gathered around her moving slippers, the boys warring with paper boats in a conflict that was for once completely mute and the little girl watching them with fascinated coal-black eyes, and they looked up to their mother's calming face at her soft exhale, sharing a glance before the eldest got to his feet. Xuan took a step toward the beautiful young woman and tugged the offhand wrinkles out of his robe, pressing the white silk flat as his charcoal eyes followed her gently smiling lips.
"Mama…"
Xiao Qiao motioned him forward, pulling the eleven-year-old to a seat at her side and brushing back his hair so she could kiss the soft skin of his temple. "Yes, sweet boy?" Xuan shifted and pulled away from her caress, but the withdrawal only brightened her smile, forcing her to stifle a light giggle at the affronted expression flitting across her first son's face before it vanished into his serious frown.
"Is Lord Sun Quan going to let us stay here, even without Father?"
Xiao Qiao wrapped one arm around the youth's waist and pressed him into her side, resting one red cheek against the crown of his head as she studied the waiting faces of her other two children. "Of course he is," she murmured, tightening her embrace as the assurance drifted away in the warm summer air. "Da has been a widow for almost ten years, and no one has asked her to leave…"
For a moment, her face crinkled again, old and new sorrow narrowing her eyes as a fresh line of tears collected beneath her lashes. But she was distracted from her impending sobs by Hailing tottering to her feet and clawing her way up her mother's ivory skirt, determination glowing in her five-year-old eyes. The little girl tumbled into the young woman's lap and pressed her face against Xiao Qiao's chest, ten tiny fingers digging into the fabric of her robes.
"Am I an orphan, Mama?"
The young widow laughed, lifting her daughter's chin so that she could drop a kiss onto each of her healthy cheeks. "No, silly girl. I'm still here, aren't I?" Xiao Qiao was smiling, but a heavy sigh fell from her lips as her second arm wrapped around the Hailing's waist, holding her baby as close as the space of their bodies allowed. "I'm still here…" she repeated in a whisper, her gaze trailing out the window to get lost in the clumps of bursting summer leaves.
For a moment, as the words died around her, she pressed her lips into a thin line and closed two hazel eyes, and the years of her life flashed across her face like the light of a flickering candle, each one standing alone for the length of a heartbeat before the others chased it away. But she wasn't really alone – she hadn't been alone for a long time. And as soon as the battle was over, there would be arms to hold her again, to keep her warm as she said goodbye to the memory of an old friend…
Yin pushed his paper boat aside and moved to lean against his mother's legs, his back pressed into the draping folds of her skirt as he blew raven bangs out of his eyes. "I want Master Lu Meng to come back," the boy announced, eight-year-old fingers twining through the strings of the carpet and yanking them out one by one. "He promised to teach me how to use his halberd next time he comes to visit. This place is boring without him."
The words made Xiao Qiao blink a little, but they drew a far more severe reaction from her eldest son, who reached down to cuff his brother on the back of the head with a blazing glare. "Shut up, Yin," the youth snapped, nudging the younger boy hard in the back with one angry foot. "Our father just died – how can you think about a stupid halberd?" Yin made a face at him, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head and sliding out of his brother's vindictive reach.
"So what? I didn't know him. He never spent any time with us anyway. What does it matter if he—"
Abruptly the boy stopped, and he bit down on his tongue as coal-black eyes dashed across his mother's face, tracing the tears that were resuming their journey down her blotched cheeks as surprise overtook his countenance. Then Yin turned around and pushed himself up to a full kneel, pressing his face into the young widow's lap and shaking his head so that the raven strands of his hair scattered messily across her skirts, spreading like ink stains on a dampened page.
"Mama… I'm sorry, Mama." The boy's hands tightened to fists in the cloth of her mourning robe, his muffled voice far more subdued than it had been a moment before. "I didn't mean it…"
Xiao Qiao shook her head, and her arm unwound from around Hailing's back so that she could run her fingers through the youth's repentant locks, chasing his hair back into a rough order as a soft laugh split her trembling lips. "Shh… I understand, Yin. I do. It's true, you didn't know him…" Her second son raised his wary head and the young woman slipped lithe fingers under his chin, tracing the line of his steady jaw as a smile offset her tears. "But… he was a good man, Yin. He gave me many things that I treasure – especially the three of you."
There was an unusual sparkle to her eyes as she finished, a light that might have hinted at a deeper meaning if anyone had been looking closely enough to catch it. But only her children were present, and they remained quiet for a long moment as she held them close, three hearts beating in time to hers under the pulse of the summer wind. Then Xuan turned in her embrace and fixed his mother with a solemn stare, sincerity shining in his youthful features and the depths of his coal-black eyes.
"Don't worry, Mama… as long as I live, I'll always remember that I'm the son of a great strategist."
Xiao Qiao swallowed hard, and then her laugh echoed around the walls like the cry of a temple bell, bright and gentle as she pressed her eldest son's face into the skin of her neck so that she could pull him closer.
"Yes, you are, sweet boy," she whispered, hugging Xuan as tightly as she could. "Yes, you are."
.x.
Han Ni Castle's garden was quiet under the glow of the mounting sun. Except for the birds rustling in the bushes and the sound of the wind chasing its way through the olive foliage of the murmuring trees, nothing disturbed the peace of the summer light streaming between open boughs, its rays breaking into elusive patterns across the base of the small pavilion. Within the confines of its partial walls, Lu Xun knelt to light a dish of incense resting on the pockmarked bench, then straightened back to his full height and dropped the poker to the flagstone floor, grinding the cindered stick beneath a silent heel.
The young clerk sighed a little, and as trails of sweet smoke began to curl up from his offering he put his hands together in a gesture of respect, cinnamon eyes falling closed as one of his old poems drifted away from his lips in an uncalculated melody. "The falling stars sing back to me in the voice of one I have lost…" The measure of his tone was calm and even despite the sorrow shadowing his features, and as its echoes died away he swallowed a mouthful of sunlit air, watching the embers writhing in front him with unseeing eyes. "I wish you peace, Lord Zhou Yu…"
"May I join you?"
Lu Xun started at the soft voice behind him, and he wheeled around to find himself staring into Lady Qiao's attractive countenance, a graceful smile curving across her lips. Instantly the young man's cheeks began to burn, and his mouth fell open in a stammer as a line of scarlet settled beneath his wide eyes, triggered by the calm presence and the beauty of the woman before him, neither attribute dimmed despite the thirty years resting in her sepia gaze.
"E-Elder Lady Qiao, I… that – that is…" Lu Xun took a deep breath and held it for a moment until the throb of his anxious heart had slowed somewhat, and then he smiled at the young widow as best he could, keeping his voice neutral despite the butterflies of uncertainty flitting across his face. "Of course, my lady… I would be honored."
Lady Qiao dipped her head in a gentle bow, and then she moved across the pavilion's shallow steps to stand at the clerk's side, her hands rising to match his in wordless reverence. Lu Xun watched her for a moment as the silence settled between them, soft and thick like a well-worn cloak, and then he forced his eyes closed against his will, listening to the distant cries of the birds as the breeze fluttered through his robe and tangled their sleeves together.
Lady Qiao smiled to herself as her gaze followed the blushing line of the young man's face; then her attention turned to the spires of silver smoke rising in front of them and her voice broke into the warm morning air, encircling them with the charm of a faraway lute in peaceful melody.
"There is a little oriole upon the hillock gray – but I have known no fear save that I fall along the way…"
Lu Xun sighed, cinnamon eyes coming open to trace the dissipating patterns of smoke filling the air around them. "He died so young…" Lady Qiao nodded a little, twining her fingers through the fabric of her sleeves to hold the fickle silk still against the gathering breeze.
"It seems as though the good always do."
The clerk shook his head, running one hand through the strands of his sandy hair to push them away from a furrowed brow. "It doesn't have to be that way. It shouldn't. If we could only bring an end to this cruel war—"
The young man cut himself off, biting down hard on his tongue as his companion's gaze trailed up to his face, and for a long moment the silence stood stagnant between them, nothing moving but the breeze tracing their figures and the branches rustling beneath it. Lu Xun took a deep breath and held it, and at his side Lady Qiao began to hum, continuing the thread of melody she had begun without its ancient words. At last the young clerk raised a hand to cover his mouth, speaking through his fingers as though he were unsure whether he should be speaking the hopeful words at all.
"That's what I am fighting for. Lord Sun Quan has my allegiance, and I will do all in my power for him, but… but my heart is only looking for an ending. I want to bring peace back to the world, so that no one else has to die."
Lady Qiao smiled, tilting her head to one side as she studied her companion's solemn face. Then she leaned forward and lifted the dish of incense into her hands, laughing softly as she took a pinch of the warm ashes and tossed it up into the smoke-infused air.
"That is what I would like as well," the beautiful widow murmured, her sepia eyes sparkling in the muted rays of the sun as the embers tumbled to a halt around her graceful feet. "I would like my daughter to marry someone who will be with her until they have both gone gray with wisdom. And I would like everyone in the world to be given a chance to become like you, Lord Xun."
At her words, Lu Xun's heart began to race again, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he stared into Lady Qiao's dignified countenance and one hand tugged at the seam of his wavering sleeve. "Like… like me?" he asked after a pause, swallowing to drag a degree of stability back to his startled voice.
The woman smiled, placing the spent incense back on the edge of the stonework bench and dusting the ashes from her fingers. The wind brushed through the pavilion and carried a little of the smoke away, and on its wings she stepped forward until she was standing just in front of the young clerk, two sepia eyes boring into uncertain cinnamon as a jeweled laugh fell from her lips.
"Yes… like you."
Lu Xun pressed his mouth into a thin line, his hands clenching to fists in search of his composure, and Lady Qiao reached up to place one palm against the cloth over his heart, her fingers twining into the fabric as the young man stiffened and the ribbon of crimson deepened along his cheeks. The clerk's eyes dashed across her face in nervous astonishment, but Lady Qiao did not withdraw her hand and at last the Zhou Yu's assistant recovered his tongue, though not the quiet confidence that it usually accompanied.
"How – how am I, m-my lady?"
His question was unclear in its anxious stutter, and embarrassment pulled Lu Xun's gaze to the ash-coated floor, his stance shifting so that eddies swirled through the dust around them. But the inquiry only made Sun Ce's widow smile, and the woman closed her shining eyes against the warmth of the sunlight, her features as pristine as the white of her skirts as she leaned into his embrace.
"Gentle," she murmured, her fingers tightening in the cloth of her companion's robe. "And that is something I never want you to lose."
Lu Xun's blush took on the brilliance of the summer hibiscus, and he opened his mouth to answer her, his posture tight beneath the laughing wind. In the end he found he had no words, and he settled for the conclusion of his song instead, the old verses slipping from his lips in familiar prose as one hand came up to rest against Lady Qiao's immaculate shoulder, not daring to pull her any closer. The smoke danced around them in tumbling clouds and the smell of the incense closed his eyes as the wings of the rising birds carried his words into the endless sky, every note as soft as the ashes scattering to the far corners of the world.
"In dreams I find you, in sleep I hold you… forgetfulness never comes. Your song shall not be silent."
.x.
The rain never seemed to stop falling in Zhaisang. It was raining as the clattering hoofbeats came to a brief halt at the garrison's outer watchtower, and it was raining as the messenger jumped from his horse and dashed into the command tent, his body shivering with the chill of the unending downpour. Taishi Ci looked up from the maps he had been arranging and his sharp features descended into a heavy frown, reproving the dripping man with his expression as much as his words.
"I said I didn't want to be disturbed today. I am trying to finish a few crucial matters – can the lot of you not get a small degree of courtesy through your thick skulls?"
His voice was harsh, but the man only bowed, producing a letter from the depths of his sash and holding it out to the irate officer with a gesture of respect. "My apologies, my lord. Forgive me, but… I bring news from the front."
Taishi Ci's brows drew together at the announcement, and he straightened from his half crouch to approach the courier in a swaggering stride, snatching the scroll without the barest hint of gratitude. But his hazel eyes widened as he yanked back the bamboo slats and followed the bleeding characters scrawled across them, and after a moment his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of his armor, falling like the rain outside as a sigh escaped his lips and the disordered document was pushed back into the messenger's waiting hands.
"Ah…" The Wolf general pressed his lips together, the hard line of his jaw tightening as he moved his head in a slow nod. When he spoke again, his voice was much softer, though no less brash for its decrease in volume. "I understand. I suppose you may as well hand that around – no sense trying to keep it quiet. They'll all have to know in time."
The courier bowed again, tucking the scroll under one sopping arm as he turned to duck back out into the rain, his footsteps vanishing in the residual splash of leather against the mired ground. Taishi Ci raised a hand to rub at his chin and considered the flap of the tent in silence for a moment, and then he moved across the diminutive shelter and stepped into the storm himself, his long braid sticking to his neck beneath the force of the gale.
The Wolf warrior gave the clouds no more than a passing glance before he moved through his camp and out into the meager village beyond, keeping his head low as his strides echoed back against the cottage walls and disturbed the puddles that were quickly taking the place of Zhaisang's unpaved streets. In a matter of minutes, he had reached the inn, and he slipped through the door in his usual brusque fashion, startling the innkeeper where he'd been dozing at one of the low tables in the absence of customers.
"Hey, old man." Taishi Ci flicked the rainwater from his sleeves and dropped down at a table by the door, one hand reaching up to brush his bangs back from two piercing eyes. "If you have the leisure to sit around daydreaming, I could use a pot of hot wine."
The innkeeper staggered to his feet and took a step away from his unexpected visitor, his fingers wringing into the cloth of his tunic in a surprise summoned by the general's abrupt entrance. But after a short pause, he dropped into a bow and pressed his hands together in front of him, a tired smile coming over his middle-aged face as he surveyed the officer's stalwart features.
"Yes, my lord… of course. It will only take a moment." The man took another step back and turned for the kitchen, hesitating with his hand on the rough-hewn doorframe as curiosity flickered over his weathered countenance. "You're drinking alone, my lord? In that case, I will only bring one cup—"
"No." Taishi Ci's interruption cut through the air between them like a tempered sword, but the curt silence diffused under his sigh an instant later, the sound as soft as the hand rising to clear his furrowed forehead. The Wolf general rolled his hazel eyes, glancing at the ceiling through the sodden strands of his bangs and shaking a head a little with thoughts that remained hidden behind his offhand scowl. "No… two cups."
The innkeeper blinked in unguarded confusion, his black eyes scanning the warrior's features as though hoping to glean some insight from the grim line of his mouth – but before he could turn to fulfill his customer's unusual order, another voice rang through the heavy air, holding its own against the pounding of the storm.
"Make that three."
Two pairs of eyes turned to regard the open entrance, and Sun Shao smirked as he pushed the lingering raindrops from his face, slate eyes greeting his superior as self-assured footsteps led the young man to the other side of Taishi Ci's table. The innkeeper stepped back into the depths of the kitchen and disappeared with his bewilderment only multiplied, and the Wolf general snorted as his subordinate dropped into a seat on the other side of the table, resting his chin on one impatient palm.
"I suppose you're old enough to drink now, aren't you?"
Sun Shao scoffed, leaning back on hands that twenty-two years had left mostly unscathed. "I suppose you're getting too old to stop me," he shot back, and Taishi Ci swallowed a chuckle, shaking his head as the innkeeper reappeared and placed a heavy wine-warming vessel in the center of their table. The Wolf general poured a measure of the clear liquid into one wooden cup and set it aside; then he filled the others to their brims and pushed one across the table in his comrade's direction, the innkeeper's retreating tread playing like the rhythm of the rain across his muted words.
"You heard, I take it."
Sun Shao sighed and lifted his goblet into two steady hands, taking a deep swallow of the liquor before his tongue produced an answer. "It was only a matter of time," he muttered, wiping a hand over his mouth and nodding though his indistinct words left both of them unsure whether it was the death or the news he was referring to. Sun Ce's adopted son gazed up at the ceiling and his lips fell into a vague smile, childlike admiration playing out across his handsome features. "He was a good man. He saved my life once… he and my father."
Taishi Ci considered the young warrior in silence, taking one sip after another of the raw alcohol and rolling the taste between his teeth as the rain throbbed like a heartbeat above them. Then the Wolf general huffed, dropping his cup back to the table and reaching for the handle of the wine warmer as his arrogant voice trailed into the damp afternoon air.
"When I first met your father, he was about as old as you are now…" Sun Shao blinked and Taishi Ci shook his head, a rough chuckle falling from his lips to the sound of the cascading liquor drizzling into his cup. "Reckless. Cocky. Full of himself. You're just like him. I look at you and I see him all over again."
The young man opened his mouth to reply, but he seemed to consider his words just before they left his tongue and silence settled between the two soldiers instead, heavy like the drum of the storm and the soft curls of steam trailing up from the clay wine vessel. Then a tiny smile curved the officer's lips and he shook his head, his exhale underwriting the amusement in his answer.
"Just like him…" Sun Shao smirked, gazing up at the ceiling as though his memory were playing out between the exposed beams. "No. Not yet. But I'm working at it, and someday… someday I may be."
Taishi Ci watched him without speaking, his lips holding their stern line as he studied the honest warrior's features and the wind began to wail through the inn's roughshod entrance, carrying the sting of the rain in its embrace. The Wolf general's gaze fell on the untouched glass of wine resting at his elbow, and he watched the liquid's smooth surface for a moment before a scoff fell from his lips, drawing his young comrade's eyes back to the damp but sincere contours of his marginal smile.
"I suppose… to be just like him… you'll have to find a friend like Zhou Yu, won't you?"
Sun Shao began to laugh, shaking his head again and tipping the last swallow of wine back into his mouth. "If I had a friend like Zhou Yu, I wouldn't need much else, would I?" the young man joked, grabbing the handle of the clay vessel and refilling his cup in a splash of cheerful drops.
Taishi Ci raised an eyebrow at his answer, and the shadow of reminiscence flitted over his face as he regarded his own cup with a serious stare, tendrils of rainwater sliding down his neck to disappear into the plates of his armor. It was impossible to guess where his private thoughts had taken him, but at last the Wolf warrior snorted and his eyes shot back to the carefree officer before him, bright with a humor apparent to him alone.
"No… no, I suppose you would not," he muttered with a mild scoff, and Sun Shao blinked at the vague response, his youthful gaze fixing on the older general's unreadable expression. Then Taishi Ci seized the pot of wine and raised it into the air between them, his canine smirk back on his face as the thunder began to crash high overhead and the storm intensified to an outright gale. "All right, Sun Shao – let's test your mettle, then, shall we? Your father once beat me at a drinking contest. I dare you to do the same."
The young man's mouth fell open for a moment in surprise, slate eyes echoing the lightning that had begun to crackle in the sky outside. Then the Little Conqueror's son grabbed his cup and Taishi Ci did the same, lacquered wood meeting in the middle with an unvoiced toast.
"You're on," Sun Shao accepted, his head tipping back in an overconfident smile. The rain dripped down the line of the doorframe and the afternoon vanished beneath the warmth of falling wine, and the liquor in Zhou Yu's unbothered cup rippled with the force of the friendly challenge, predestined to remain the last one standing.
.x.
It was dark when the wagon rolled to a stop in the center of the tiny village, the whickering of its horses and the last creak of slowing wheels the only sound beneath a cloudless, starstruck sky. Chen Hao sat up slowly from his position against the weathered wood of the headboard, and as he rolled the kinks from his neck he took a deep breath of the cooling air and held it over his dry tongue, the breeze adopting the texture of the stars and tingling where it settled into his lungs.
The moon was shining through the vehicle's open back, a crescent waxing its way toward complete one handful of light at a time, and to the soldier it seemed as though the midnight goddess were smiling at him, her gently curving lips swollen with an amusement that had been absent the night before. He wondered for a moment what had induced the change in humor, and then he shoved the thought away and pushed himself to his feet so that he could crawl out the back of the wagon, climbing carefully over the baseboard to give his stiff limbs time to adjust to the change in position. Every movement felt as though he were stretching taut cloth as far as it would go, but he slipped down to the ground and straightened nonetheless, trusting shaky limbs to hold him upright as he gazed around at the quiet doorsteps of the familiar houses, each one dark but for the glimmer of fires shining through their uneven windows.
From his position at the head of the humble vehicle, the uninjured driver turned and spared Chen Hao a considering glance, the emotion in his raven eyes invisible under the hand of the gathering night. "You're sure you want off here?" The man's question drifted between them like the wind that was singing through the trees high above, and the soldier only smiled in response, knowing as he did so that his comrade could see nothing but the moon's fickle shadows on his face.
"Yes…"
Two coal-black eyes came back to sweep across the quiet street, and Chen Hao let a heavy sigh fall from his lips as the whispers of the night surrounded him, teasing his ears with words too distant to understand. It had only been four days since war and the orders of an uncompromising ruler had sent him from the village that surrounded them now, a sword in his hand and the family he'd left behind dominating his thoughts – but despite the short span of sunrises, Chen Hao felt as though his feet hadn't touched that slipshod path in a lifetime, and the familiar swaying of the bamboo grove behind him was enough to send emotion writhing through his ribs, every breath of the clear air worth more than a drink from the well of Heaven itself.
Everything inside of the soldier was longing to break into a run, to abandon all pretense of composure and sprint straight for the only door that mattered, the door that Zhou Yu's story had somehow made all the more precious – with a great effort, he held himself still, returning his comrades' searching stares as the horses stamped their weary feet and the stars sung out above them. At last the driver shrugged and turned back to tighten his hold on the reins, the worn leather slipping easily between his fingers as his words fell like stones through the surrounding shadows.
"Have it your way. Lord Sun Quan wants us back as soon as we've finished with the doctor, so… we'll stop here in the morning. You'll be ready?"
The question sent a thorn of regret into the throb of Chen Hao's heart, but he shook it back and kept his voice steady, his stance stiff with the soldier's pride that hadn't seemed to fit him before the road home from Jing Castle. "By sunrise," he promised, nodding as the darkness swept across his features.
Sunrise. It was a scant few hours of sanctuary, but it was more than many in Sun Quan's force would be enjoying that night, and far more than the grave that might have been waiting for him on the fields of the Nan Territory…
His comrades shared a last look and the injured man shot him a salute over one shoulder, his lips curving into a smile that was almost natural on his contemplative face. Then the driver clicked his tongue and the reins snapped in his hands, and the horses began to move again, tossing their heads and shaking the starlight from their manes as the wheels turned and carried the rickety wagon on down the road, leaving its silent passenger behind in a trail of curling dust.
Despite his fatigue and the camaraderie that was so new it was almost uncomfortable in his chest, Chen Hao found himself waving, and he waved until he couldn't see the swaying forms of the soldiers anymore, the night reaching out and folding them into its uncompromising embrace. Then he turned and let the adrenaline in his muscles free from its chains, and in an instant he was running, flying through the back streets of his tiny village with the rhythm of the turning wheels echoing in his pulse.
Chen Hao's feet knew the way even without his guidance, so he directed his eyes to the sky instead and lost his thoughts in their scattered depths, searching for the patterns that had come to mean so much more after one night in the company of a dying man. The Wings, the Chariot, the Fortress – he found them all and each one brought a smile to his face, sending a string of borrowed memories through the contours of his mind. In the darkness of the settling night, it seemed as though every star represented a moment of his fallen general's life, and each one winked at him as the gravel scattered beneath his racing strides, story after story flitting across his vision with the brevity of the sighing breeze.
Sun Ce's smile, and Zhou Yu's eyes, and the red ribbon of forever falling in between them – he saw everything again with a clarity that his vision had never attained before, and with every breath he wanted to shout the words he'd heard back out into the sky, releasing them to the moonlight where they belonged. Then the door of his cottage appeared along the curve of the alley, and nothing else mattered, the last few steps carrying him on the wings of the shadowed wind.
The weak barricade burst open under his hand, and Meicheng gasped as she whirled to face the entrance, her hair scattering loose across her shoulders as the ladle fell from her hands and nearly rolled into the cooking fire. For a moment, there was no sound between the soldier and his wife but the pulse of his heavy breathing, two sets of eyes colliding through the summer air – then the young woman clutched her heart with five startled fingers, raven gaze tracing his features as shocked words stammered from her lips.
"H-Hao… what on earth – Heaven, I thought you were a bandit—"
Chen Hao shoved the door closed behind him, and with three strides he'd crossed the dirt floor and pulled his surprised wife into his arms, pressing her thin form as close as the confines of his armor allowed. Meicheng stiffened against him, and then she pushed away to stare into his coal-black eyes again, two hands knotting into the fabric of his well-stained sleeves.
"Hao, what are you doing here? What's wrong? You're supposed to be on campaign…"
Chen Hao shook his head, and without intention he found a smile sliding across his lips, brightening his expression far better than the fire as he pressed his forehead to hers, longing for the feeling of her breath against his face. "It's nothing," he murmured, and even to his own ears the words sounded strange, too high and too strained to lend the response credibility. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just… so happy to see you."
And he was. He had never been happier to set eyes on her plain face, on the tendrils of dusty hair framing her puzzled features and the work-roughened hands finding anchor against his shoulders. All of the smoke from the cooking fire and the ashes darkening her skin were more beautiful makeup than any he'd ever seen, and even the outright shock consuming her countenance was enough to fill the emptiness that Zhou Yu's story had left somewhere within him—
With a shuffle and the stamp of tiny feet on a swept earth floor, Li wriggled out of the confines of his mother's blankets and stumbled across the room to grab his father's leg, his pigtails bobbing back and forth along the crest of his head as a glowing smile lit his lean features. "Baba," the little boy announced in a shout, and Chen Hao bent to lift him into weary arms, kissing the child's cheek and his neck where the sackcloth was exposing his sun-hardened skin. He wondered if he had ever understood before how much that voice meant to him, and how the wide-set eyes of his only son were closer to perfection than he'd ever realized…
Chen Hao took a deep breath and held it, letting the weight of the night push out against his lungs in an acknowledgement of a burden he couldn't explain, of a responsibility he hadn't asked for but wouldn't have dreamed of abandoning now that it had landed in his hands. Then he broke away from his wife and took a seat beside the fire, cradling Li in the crook of his arms and staring into the flames where they danced and twisted around the soot-painted cooking pot. Meicheng watched his movement in silence, and she crossed her arms over her chest, a frown falling across her lips as she studied her husband's unworried countenance.
"All right, Hao – what is going on here? Put Li to bed, and then you and I can talk outside…"
But the soldier only shook his head, pulling the little boy closer into the folds of his cloth armor and closing his eyes. The scent of the rice gruel wafted around them like burning incense, and to Chen Hao it seemed as though the air surrounding him had gotten very full, every moment hanging like the last breath before a dive into cold, black, endless waters. Then his eyes came open and he felt a smile conquering his expression, warmer for the embers ahead of him and the child in his lap, ten tiny fingers playing with the stains scattered across his shirt.
"No, Meicheng. Not tonight. Come here – come sit with me."
His wife started a little at the disagreement, but Chen Hao only laughed, lifting Li up so that he could rub his nose against the child's smaller one. The boy's eyes met his in curious affection and the soldier wrapped his arms tighter around the thin back, laughing though he couldn't have guessed what emotion was conjuring the sound. Skeptical steps brought Meicheng to his side, and as she found her place on the floor the soldier turned to hold her gaze as well, meeting her uncertain eyes with the warmth of his growing smile.
He didn't know where Zhou Yu's story had left him, and he didn't know where the sunrise would end up taking him either, a life of war less predictable than the drums sometimes made it seem. But he had one night to acknowledge the words that had been sewn into the contours of his soul, and he had one way to do so – the way that Wu's fallen strategist had taught him, hours of midnight falling aside under the spell of his unyielding tongue.
Chen Hao pulled Meicheng in close to his side, and as Li's fingers came up to trace his lips the soldier shook his head, the whisper of the stars echoing in his ears. "Not tonight," he repeated, his eyes chasing the flames and the darkness all around them. "Tonight… I'm going to tell you a story."
The End
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Well… it's been a great ride, everyone. Thanks for the endless support – I don't know how this story would have turned out without so much encouragement, but I'll bet it wouldn't be half as good. I am deeply indebted to all those who have given my story their attention over the course of the year-and-three-quarters this took to finish. I never imagined when I started that this story would get so out of control (we won't even go into a page count), but I don't regret the effort that went into it, nor the conversations it produced. Thank you all for your time and patronage – I truly do appreciate it.
What's the story of this story? I played Dynasty Warriors and I saw a narrative between two characters that was never going to be told – a tragedy that had no meaning because no one understood what had been lost. And so I set out to give Sun Ce and Zhou Yu the lives that Sun Ce's death took away. I hope that I succeeded in that regard.
As a side note: According to his official biography, Taishi Ci was dead already before the Battle of Chi Bi. He died in 206 and never took part in Wu's later battles where ROTK features him, notably not the siege of He Fei. That aside, I really wanted to write him into this scene, so history fell by the wayside a bit. I hope no one was particularly offended.
In closing, some people deserve my deepest gratitude for their unseen contributions to the story. Those people are: Michael Loewe, Rafe de Crespigny, Sima Qian and others who allowed me to construct a semi-accurate picture of life at the end of the Han; Monika, for her extensive knowledge of and input concerning horses; my mother, for her extensive knowledge and input concerning pregnancy and raising children; my father, for his input during distance and time calculations for realistic army movements; Professor Williams, for his assistance with miscellaneous questions; and Pseudonym Narcissist, for helping me brainstorm and the single-handed creation of Lady Li.
And, of course, viewers like you. Thanks again.
A note for Alinea: I am honored by your words, and honored as well that I made you cry, though you have my apologies in that regard. I have tried to give all of these characters life, because a tragedy doesn't mean anything until you care about the people who are going through it. Thank you for your review – I hope this chapter was a fitting closure for you.
A note for Ever Kitsune: I am glad that you were touched by Zhou Yu's death as well. I am also grateful for your words – I made this story because no one had, and I hope I filled the void well enough. I hope the epilogue was worthwhile in your opinion – thank you for you continued support.
A note for Morsmordre: Well… I won't apologize for making you cry, then. I am glad, however, that you found my description of Zhou Yu's last moments believable. As you said, it was difficult – I tried to imagine what it might be like to die, and I can't be sure, of course, if I got it right, but I was thinking about the few instants between when your lungs stop and your heart fails and your brain dies, and tried to fill in the gaps accordingly. That aside, I realize the end was a little cliché, but… I don't know. Zhou Yu was falling into the darkness, and then I didn't want it to end that way, because so much of Sun Ce had to do with light. In any case, I am glad it didn't detract for you. And yes – sadly. His death is the happy ending.
A note for Crazy Insanity: "Finally managed to shut you up"? Apparently not. But actually, I understood your review quite well – the saddest part of Zhou Yu's death for me was Sun Ce calling out to him. Because until then, Sun Ce was dead but he wasn't really gone – but then he was. They both were. I confess the epilogue was a little hard to write without either of my favorite characters. And the light… I didn't realize it at first, but there is an unintentional connection between sunrise and death in this story. Sun Jian, Sun Ce, Zhou Yu… all of their deaths are connected to dawn. Funny how dawn is usually a new beginning… anyway. Thank you for your review, and your constant support. I hope this was a worthwhile ending.