The curtain of night fell, the entire sky filled with drifting snow. When Zhou Yu turned to look, he saw the waystation already going up in flames at the foot of the mountains. The waiter likely knew he couldn’t avoid what was coming, so he’d simply set the waystation on fire.
“I feel really sorry for him,” Zhou Yu said. “An unexpected disaster befell him, just like that.”
“Twenty horses is enough for him to start his business anew,” Sun Ce replied. “Although they are military horses, I imagine they’re unbranded because Yuan Shu used that group to silence people. Selling them won’t be difficult.”
“I’m worried Yuan Shu’s troops might already be in pursuit,” Zhao Yun said. “You two xiandi should rest first. We’ll have to rush ahead tonight.”
As they’d traveled, Zhou Yu’s heart dangled from a string. Their escape had been only one part skill and three parts luck. Now that his tension was finally released, he and Sun Ce climbed into the carriage, taking a brief moment to rest.
It was cramped inside, and squeezing so many people within forced Zhou Yu to hold Sun Quan while Sun Ce hugged Cao Pi. Halfway through the night, Zhou Yu woke only to find that Zhao Yun occupied Sun Ce’s spot, and Cao Pi was slumped in his embrace, sleeping soundly.
“Yu-er.” The Lady of Wu was still awake. “It’s all thanks to you this time. If you hadn’t saved our family…”
“Auntie,” Zhou Yu replied, smiling, “if it wasn’t for Bofu, I would have died on Mount Gu, in Lake Chao, or in Luoyang. I’d have left this world in a variety of hellish nightmares, so please don’t say any more.” The Lady of Wu smiled. Zhou Yu continued, “The heavens did indeed smile upon us, but our escape today was also possible because we borrowed the luck of these two brats, Sun Quan and Cao Pi.”
“True,” the Lady of Wu replied. “I’ve often heard your uncle, my husband, mention Cao Mengde, so I imagine he is an important figure. Everyone escaped thanks to his blessing.”
Zhou Yu smiled and stretched his sore, numb arms. The Lady of Wu took Sun Quan so he could be a little more comfortable, and Zhou Yu opened the door to the carriage, climbing into the driver’s seat.
“You go sleep more,” Zhou Yu said to Sun Ce.
A lantern lit the road in front of the carriage, and Sun Ce was thoroughly focused on steering the carriage through the night.
“Once we leave Mount Bagong, we’ll be safe,” he said to Zhou Yu, “and Yuan Shu will no longer be able to catch us.”
“There is one more pass,” Zhou Yu said. “You go recuperate. This sentry post may be difficult to cross through.”
“No need to worry,” Sun Ce said, completely confident. “They don’t have Fei Yu.”
Fei Yu appeared, flapping to land on the front of the carriage as it surveyed its surroundings.
“Go a little slower on the downward slopes,” Zhou Yu instructed.
The narrow, winding mountain path delved into the depths of the valley, then through a long canyon, before it exited the mountain. Zhou Yu and Sun Ce sat shoulder to shoulder against the door of the carriage, watching the single lamp sway away, catching white flecks of snow in its light.
“I feel like in this life of ours,” Sun Ce said, smiling, “we’ll probably never run into a situation as dangerous as today’s. When I saw the gates to Shouchun close, I almost thought I would never see you again.”
“I hope you’re right,” Zhou Yu responded mildly. “The coming days stretch long ahead of us, but they shouldn’t be worse than those behind us.”
“Thankfully, my wits were quick in a moment of crisis!” Sun Ce chuckled.
Zhou Yu nudged Sun Ce’s head, and Sun Ce kept laughing to himself. “I’m also good material for being a military advisor.”
Zhou Yu shot him a glance out of the corner of his eye, as if to say, You?
Sun Ce smiled as he leaned back, shutting his eyes. The star-filled sky slowly faded as Zhou Yu took the whip, the carriage bearing northeast.