Sun Ce practiced his staff moves in the courtyard while Zhou Yu sat in the hallway, writing and calculating.
Sun Ce said, “Four hundred is enough. Tomorrow I’ll bring them to Liyang. Don’t worry too much about our rations. When the time comes, we’ll still have to find my uncle and ask him to assign me some men to train the troops.”
“We’re not in a rush; we do not need to go tomorrow,” Zhou Yu replied. “It’ll take ten days to half a month to settle affairs here before we’ll be able to leave.”
“I’m afraid if we stay here too long, things might change.”
“What are you in a rush for?” Zhou Yu put down his pen, meeting Sun Ce’s gaze.
Sun Ce thought for a bit before replying, “I’m afraid if we dally here for two or three months, Liyang may be cornered by the Wu Commandery.”
“Is that so?” Zhou Yu asked. “Though the prefect of Wu Commandery, Xu Gong, has yet to announce his allegiances, he gets his rations from Yuan Shu. If you were to bring your four hundred new untrained troops to Liyang, are you not afraid Xu Gong would send a report to Yuan Shu and detain your troops in Liyang?”
“It won’t come to that,” Sun Ce said easily with a wave of his hand, moving to Zhou Yu’s side. “My uncle will hold out.”
“You’re anxious to set off because you want revenge, right?” Zhou Yu asked. “After you finish gathering your troops in Liyang, you’ll send a secret message along the way to Cheng Pu, Huang Gai, and the rest of the generals, instructing them to bring their men, so you can avenge your dad.”
Zhou Yu’s guess was spot-on—that was exactly Sun Ce’s train of thought.
“I can hide nothing from you,” Sun Ce replied.
“I saw you starting to write letters as soon as spring came.”
“Heading down to Jing Province requires us to have a navy,” Sun Ce pointed out. “Now that we do and our people have returned, what’s wrong with letting Cheng Pu bring the troops out from under Yuan Shu’s command?”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with that?” Zhou Yu replied. “I already intercepted the letter.”
“I was wondering why there was no response.”
Sun Ce rose and came to a stop in front of the courtyard. Small, densely packed snowflakes fell from the sky.
“Are you angry?” Zhou Yu asked.
Sun Ce didn’t make a sound.
“Did you not think it through?” Zhou Yu asked. “If you steal Yuan Shu’s troops to get revenge, you will have it, but will Yuan Shu let us go after we return from Jing Province? That bastard is a master of holding grudges, and when he decides to act, both attacking and retreating will be difficult. He will never allow you to remain in Danyang…”
“If we gain Jing Province, do we need to return to Danyang?”
“You think Jing Province is so easy to govern?” Zhou Yu tossed his brush aside, his anger mounting. “Think these trivial things through clearly.” He frowned. “Jing Province is full of martial families. If we can’t even take care of Jiangdong and a group of us outsiders enter Jing Province, there is no way we will have an easy time.”
Sun Ce didn’t reply directly. “I want revenge.”
“My dad died at the hands of Hua Xiong, but Hua Xiong has since passed. Where should I seek revenge for my father?”
“That is why,” Sun Ce said, turning his head to give Zhou Yu a glance, “you must kill your enemies with your own blade. As soon as possible.”
“Are your enemies more important, or is the grand scheme of things more important?” Zhou Yu asked, holding his temper back.
Originally, Zhou Yu hadn’t wanted to confront Sun Ce with these words. After all, it was not yet three years since Sun Jian departed the world. He’d thought Sun Ce had managed to move on—not that he’d been consumed by revenge fantasies. This was definitely not his original intention. Sun Ce never said a single thing about it, but, in this half year since last midsummer, he had never let it go at all.
Sun Ce left. Zhou Yu sat alone, staring at the dim light of the lamp, lost in his thoughts.