The autumn solstice arrived, along with a secret letter from Shouchun. Cheng Pu and the other generals had already changed their allegiance, and Yuan Shu was greatly pleased. He arranged posts for them immediately and sent money and rations to placate Sun Ce, along with a letter persuading him to leave the mountain and be a martial official once more. Sun Ce knew this was a trap. If he went to Yuan Shu’s manor, how would he walk out of there alive?
He and Zhou Yu discussed it, and Zhou Yu dictated while Sun Ce penned his words, replying with a copious few thousand words. In short, he needed to pay respects to his father for three years and could not desert such a duty; he’d fought all his life and already sprouted white hairs. His body was riddled with wounds, and his heart was exhausted. Remaining in Shu County would bring him peace.
Zhou Yu was not satisfied, but he had no choice but to send that letter on his behalf. Sun Ce folded up the letter and smiled.
“I truly do think that.”
“Think what?” Zhou Yu asked, putting the ink box away.
As if he’d already thought this over, Sun Ce replied, “When I was out fighting in Luoyang and Changsha I often thought of your home. When you told me to let my mother and yours live together, I responded with nothing but encouragement.
“No matter how large the world,” Sun Ce said, putting the letter away, “only this place is home. Everywhere else is nothing more than a temporary place of rest. Only the blue waves of Lake Chao and the beautiful views from Mount Gu can bring peace to my heart.”
Zhou Yu replied, “Back during the previous dynasty, people said this was a land of plenty because the scenery is so picturesque, untouched by the flames of war, even during the Qin Dynasty. But we can only discuss that when our battle is finished, as the land of tenderness is the downfall of many heroes. After this year passes, we must not tarry here.”
“Who’s your land of tenderness?” Sun Ce asked, grinning.
Zhou Yu pitched a wooden cup at him, which Sun Ce nimbly snatched from the air, only for the water in it to splash all over his head.
He laughed as he walked out the door to give the letter to a messenger.
The Lady of Wu and Madame Zhou seemed to be staying completely out of their business. Originally Sun Ce planned to help Zhou Yu organize the family business during his time here, but when he found a record book, he saw almost all the silk fields and stalls were liquidated, leaving behind some tens of acres of ancestral land and less than a thousand taels of silver.
“You sold off all the businesses that your ancestors passed down?” Sun Ce asked.
Zhou Yu sat with an arm wrapped around Sun Quan as he taught him to write. He raised his head and glanced at Sun Ce.
“Aren’t the ancestral fields still there?”
“What did you spend all the money on?”
“Buying ships, training troops, and gathering soldiers,” Zhou Yu said. “I handed it all over to Lu Zijing.”
Sun Ce held the record book and stood for a long while without making a sound, before turning to search through the reports on running the army that Lu Su sent every month. He stared at them, then at Zhou Yu, then back at the report.
“What are you looking at?” Zhou Yu didn’t know what he was trying to do. “Is there something on my face?”
“Lu Zijing is a talented man.” Sun Ce chuckled, but when he looked back down at the report something seemed to drip from his eye onto the page. He put the book away and walked into the yard, sitting down and staring blankly into the clear sky of late autumn.
With a kind tone and gentle words, Zhou Yu taught Sun Quan how to compose an essay. Compared to the impatient Sun Ce, Sun Quan evidently preferred Zhou Yu. Without any due cause, he’d hug Zhou Yu’s neck and act spoiled, and sometimes he’d even make jokes about him.