Chapter 1:
Peach Blossoms
MANY YEARS LATER, during the Battle of Chi Bi, the river was lit with blazing flames.
One of the warships suddenly imploded, sending up a flurry of sparks. Red lotuses bloomed across the horizon of water, and the warship’s mast tilted. Hundreds of corpses bobbed up and down in the water, their blood staining the floating oars.
As Zhou Yu looked across this hellish crimson sea, he was reminded of the afternoon when he and Sun Ce had first met.
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Zhou Yu turned four that year. Peach blossoms fluttered through the air, lit by pristine springtime sunlight.
Having just woken from an afternoon nap, he was crouching over the pond, feeding goldfish when he heard sounds of merriment behind him. Before he could turn around, a visiting child kicked him squarely into the pond.
He tumbled into the water with a splash, and the culprit pointed at him, laughing. Instead of shouting for help or yelling at him, Zhou Yu, coughing on the mouthfuls of chilly pond water he had inadvertently swallowed, swam to the other side of the pond and clambered out with a loud sneeze. He was soaked.
The other child smirked and came racing after to mock him. “Wow, I thought you’d sink like a stone!”
He scooted forward until his nose was but inches from Zhou Yu’s face. “Oh, are you going to cry? Cry then, cry!”
Zhou Yu wiped his face dry with his sleeve, and the other child laughed.
“He’s crying!” the boy jeered.
Grabbing a handful of the other boy’s collar, Zhou Yu swung his fist into his face.
Since he was unprepared for such violent retaliation, the boy let out a scream. The two of them started fighting, right in the middle of the garden. Zhou Yu’s first punch was a warm-up, and now he pummeled his opponent, one hit after another aimed right for the nose. Overwhelmed, the other child attempted to run, earning him a strike to the back of his head. Stars swam in his vision, and he collapsed to the ground.
Zhou Yu clambered over him to pin him down and then proceeded to beat the life out of him. At first, the child was still able to cry for help, but as the thrashing went on, he lost the strength to shout, blood now pouring from his nose. The servants inside the house heard the commotion and rushed outside, startled by the sight.
“Little shaoye1!” they cried.
Both children’s families were shocked, and they tore Zhou Yu off the child he was throttling.
Later Zhou Yu’s father gave him a sound beating in turn, holding him down despite his cries and wails. The kid that he thrashed was half dead. In addition to a broken nose, he had developed a chill after his weakened body left him bedridden, and it took the efforts of a renowned physician and almost ten days of rest before he recovered.
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That was the only time in his entire life that Zhou Yu’s father had hit him. Even after all these years, he couldn’t help but feel a vague, throbbing pain from his behind every time he thought about it.
When Zhou Yu had been a child, his father, Zhou Yi, had taken up a government position in Luoyang, and Zhou Yu had joined him there. It was in Luoyang that, upon laying eyes on Zhou Yu, the famous scholar Xu Shao—the very Xu Shao who described Cao Cao as “a capable advisor in a peaceful time, a dangerous hero in a turbulent world”—had remarked: “This child shall achieve remarkable deeds in the future. He is a born commander of men.”
Zhou Yi’s mouth had twitched when he heard those words, but he’d simply blown the wisps of his beard away with a disdainful sigh.
His reply had been indifferent. “Hmm. We shall see.”
Several years passed while Zhou Yu remained in Luoyang with his father to further his studies. While it was a large city, Zhou Yu hadn’t been able to find a single master willing to take him under their tutelage, so when he turned twelve, Zhou Yi had sent him back home to Shu County.
His mother had seemed older after his absence, and the world had begun teetering on the brink of collapse. And so, he returned home to help take care of the family business and continue his studies. Hopefully when it came time for him to participate in the regional examinations, he would be able to score well enough to gain a government position in Luoyang.
However, political tensions had worsened over the past few years and even his father, who had been serving in Luoyang, resigned and returned home. While spring bloomed, blazing fires of turbulence spread across the land, leaving refugees in its wake. Taking advantage of the chaos, the Yellow Turban Army, led by Zhang Jue, revolted and pillaged the regions around Ji Province and Yang Province. Zhou Yu’s family’s silk business lost access to their northern route several times.
This political turmoil was what prompted his father’s return, and with him, he brought home a cartload of books and his two elderly servants. In Zhou Yu’s mother’s words, “It was better to resign from that role and return home to start a business than to leave the family with no one to take care of it.”
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Zhou Yu sat at home, waiting anxiously for his father’s return.
His homework was going to be reviewed, his sword practice inspected, and the family’s business inquired after. He could not skimp on a single detail of what he had learned and had done over these past four years, as well as whom he had spent his time with.
His father had warned him not to befriend bad influences—but what was a “bad influence,” and what was a “good influence”? He couldn’t help but remember that boy who had fallen gravely ill due to his actions, Sun Ce. His father and the Sun family had been on good terms then, but Zhou Yu did not know how the magistrate of Xiapi County, Sun Jian, was doing now.
The chaos of the Yellow Turban Rebellion’s spread across eight provinces now. Several local officials have already been hanged, and government manors burnt down. Even Wu County was not able to escape, so it’s possible the Sun family has also been struck by disaster…
As he was thinking, a servant approached him.
“Shaoye, Laoye2 sent a message that he arrived at the foot of Mount Gu last night. He most likely left this morning and is heading home now.”
Zhou Yu stood up and straightened up his clothes. Ever since having woken up, he’d fiddled with his outfit multiple times, straightening his robes to the point they couldn’t be any straighter. He belted his sword to his waist.
Once his father climbed over Mount Gu, Zhou Yu was planning to cross Lake Chao to welcome him home in person.
He found he couldn’t settle down, sitting or standing, so he took to pacing back and forth in the hall. As he did, his thoughts returned to one of his father’s frequent admonishments: “Those who carry a sword are either wandering warriors or seekers of their own justice—those who slaughter for their own benefit.”
He quickly removed the weapon at his side. On second thought…the world was dangerous now; he would be better off bringing it along. As he seesawed back and forth on this choice, he wound up removing and reattaching the blade uncountable times.
In the end, he left with his sword at his hip.
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After galloping on horseback to Lake Chao, he took a ferry to Mount Gu on the other side of the lake. A narrow path through cliffs split the mountain down the middle, and trailing alongside it was a stream of crystal clear water that flowed downhill like silk. The cries of monkeys echoed across the cliffsides, and birds soared high in the sky. Jagged peaks rose, lush and verdant, stacked one above the next, as beautiful as a painting. Taking this all in, Zhou Yu couldn’t help but be reminded of Sun Ce.
After the boy’s severe bout of illness, his father forced him to repent with three kowtows, and since words alone weren’t enough, Zhou Yu had gritted his teeth and made a kite as an apology gift for Sun Ce. However, Sun Ce’s childish nature meant that he had forgotten the entire thing in only a few days. Perplexingly, he’d apologized to Zhou Yu!
In the end, despite the drama the two of them had caused, the fight actually formed the foundation of their friendship. Zhou Yu could even remember how Sun Ce had held the kite in his hand and whined about wanting to fly it. The two of them, little Zhou Yu and little Sun Ce, had gone to Lake Chao to fly the kite together.
That afternoon the two of them had sat upon a bamboo raft that gently glided across the surface of the river, passing the rows of pine trees along both banks that resembled the deft strokes of an artist’s brush.
Zhou Yu had been pushing the raft, but he could barely hold the long pole aloft, even though he’d been taught by an experienced ferryman; Sun Ce had been flying the kite, which had soared shakily through the narrow confines of the canyon…