Chapter Sixty-One: Reckless Words

All the veteran generals listened to Sun Jian’s decision with satisfaction. As long as Jiang Wen didn’t come to compete with them for merit, all was well.

Sun Quan wore a smile on his face. No matter how formidable his elder brother and his followers were, as long as their father refused to side with them, his elder brother would never outmatch him. Moreover, the military authority was now largely in the hands of the old generals, and those generals were his strongest supporters. In matters of war—the great affairs of the state—it mattered little how flawlessly a nation’s policies were executed; whoever held command of the army held the advantage, and that was not Sun Ce.

Recently, Sun Quan had been visiting the venerable Zhang Zhao, believing that with a few more days of sincere effort, he would surely win the old scholar’s heart. Zhang Zhao’s knowledge and reputation were rare in the world, and though Sun Ce’s men were everywhere in court, the old generals were still hale and hearty, and none of Sun Ce’s followers had yet become the backbone of the government. But sooner or later, those generals would be replaced, and Sun Quan needed to begin arranging his own men to rise up. His talents were no less than his elder brother’s!

The battle for the heirship had only just begun.

In Sun Jian’s camp, Sun Jian gazed at the bamboo slips in his hand; many more lay piled on the desk, each bearing a portrait. If one looked closely, the faces weren’t much like Jiang Wen’s, but the deeds recorded for each mirrored Jiang Wen’s daily actions precisely.

Before Sun Jian stood a delicate, lively young girl.

Xiaoshu spoke, “These are the complete records of the Ritual Master’s recent days. Sometimes, when he meets with his wife, he drinks with others—when he’s not at the residence, it can’t be recorded.”

“This Ritual Master is an interesting sort… All this time, he’s returned home only once; the rest, he’s spent living at the School Affairs Office,” Sun Jian laughed as he read the slip. “Diao Chan has been in his residence for a month now—such a beauty, my eldest son has longed for her for ages, and yet this Ritual Master remains unmoved, not even for a whole month!”

“You may go now.”

Jiang Wen knelt before the desk, glanced at the memorial in his hand, and set it aside. Sun Jian didn’t want him to go, and Jiang Wen had only mentioned it in passing; if it couldn’t be done, so be it.

Sun Ce drank at his side. “Father doesn’t want you to go to Hefei?”

“The Prime Minister is worried Lü Bu might attack again, so he’s asked me and the General to guard Wancheng and be cautious against the enemy,” Jiang Wen sipped his plum juice. “But the General need not worry. After Lü Bu’s defeat, he certainly won’t dare to invade again.”

Sun Ce didn’t probe further. Watching two drunken companions, he chuckled softly and said to his attendant, “Go prepare some sobering tea for Xingba and Youping.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Gongjin, do you think Han Xuan has lost his mind?” Lü Meng set his wine jar aside and burped. “He’s conspiring with the false emperor Yuan Shu, even though he’s a Han official!”

Zhou Yu took down his hairpin and combed through his hair, letting it fall loosely. His cheeks were rosy with intoxication, and three empty wine jars lay before him.

Han Xuan and his eighty thousand troops had been stationed at Baling for three days, yet had not advanced.

Zhou Yu had sent four letters, each offering generous rewards to the generals, hoping to dissolve their alliance. Every man had his own ambitions; such meaningless alliances were easily broken. Yet, given the distance, his four personal aides probably hadn’t even reached Baling, and before any intrigue began, the enemy had already halted their advance. Zhou Yu was puzzled—what were these men planning?

Hesitation in battle was dangerous; it could easily sow discord in the army. Some soldiers, burning with fervor, were ready to die on the battlefield, but endless delays cooled their blood, and once fearless men began to worry, growing timid about fighting...

Han Xuan’s demoralizing of his forces was a golden opportunity.

Zhou Yu spoke, “The Han dynasty is long gone. The Emperor is but a puppet for the Prime Minister—a figure of little importance. If the Prime Minister wished, he could take the Emperor’s life with ease.”

“Yuan Shu may be called a false emperor, but no one truly cares. What does it matter to the warlords if Yuan Shu claims the throne? Does it mean everyone must obey him?”

“What drives the warlords now is ambition! The Prime Minister is ambitious, longing to unify the realm, to bring peace and happiness to the people!”

“And Han Xuan, too, has his ambition. However insignificant, however futile, he pursues it because it is what he desires most!”

Zhou Yu mumbled on, unaware that those around him had already collapsed drunk onto the table. Only he, half drunk and half lucid, continued his rambling.

A wine jar rolled to the floor, stopping at Tai Shici’s feet without breaking.

Baling, guest room in Han Xuan’s residence.

“Han Xuan, you have thirty thousand troops, while my army numbers just ten thousand. Why must my men take the vanguard?” Zhao Fan’s voice was shrill with anger as he slammed the table, his palm instantly reddening.

“My army has thirty thousand, yours only ten thousand. We should be the main force—why should we lead the charge?” Han Xuan shouted in fury. “If your men aren’t to be the vanguard, then who?”

Jin Xuan and Liu Du watched from the side, content to spectate. At times like these, whoever stepped forward would suffer; the vanguard in battle often faced the worst, being the first to meet the enemy’s blades.

The main reason the armies had paused at Baling was this dispute—no one wanted their own troops to be the vanguard. Why should their soldiers be expendable while others’ weren’t?

As long as the argument wasn’t directed at them, they kept silent.

Zhao Fan’s face was flushed with rage, and he sent the table flying. “I quit! Do as you please!”

Han Xuan sneered, “If you really want to leave, hand over your military authority!”

Jin Xuan spoke up, “Zhao Fan, I hear your wife is famed for her beauty. You wouldn’t want your pawn to become a widow, would you?”

Zhao Fan’s expression shifted, uncertain and troubled, and he slumped back into his seat. “Fine, I’ll do as you say.”

He had the fewest troops here and no formidable generals under his command; such treatment was to be expected.

Han Xuan was satisfied, surveying the mess of the guest room. “Gentlemen, please return and rest. Tomorrow, I’ll host a banquet—do arrive on time. Beautiful women have been prepared for you, and you may enjoy them at your leisure.”

Jin Xuan and Zhao Du exchanged glances, then hurried to bid Han Xuan farewell.

Han Xuan turned to Zhao Fan. “To ensure your safety, I’ll assign my own personal guards to protect you daily. Please don’t refuse.”

“You…!”

ps: Each chapter I write is only two thousand words; the previous update was six thousand, so these are three chapters combined, because I was too lazy to think of titles.

I can’t write anymore, I don’t know what to do next. I managed to update four chapters today, so I think that’s enough.