Chapter Sixty-Two: The Roast Whole Lamb

At night, the stars glittered brilliantly across the sky.

At Red Cliff, a cold wind swept through the military encampment. On the vast, open ground, fire pits were piled high, their glowing embers radiating intense heat as bubbling broth filled the air with warmth and fragrance.

“It’s only because our general is kind-hearted that we get to eat meat every day. If it were any other general, would we live so comfortably?”

“Exactly. And here, there’s not even any fighting. Every day is this leisurely—if only we had some wine!”

“Having meat is already a blessing, and you still want wine? Aren’t you dreaming!”

By the riverside, a stretch of open ground was occupied by a spit roasting lamb over one of the fire pits. The savory scent of dripping fat made mouths water.

A few personal guards were stationed at intervals, keeping watch.

Lu Meng used a small knife to cut a piece of roast lamb and put it in his mouth, chewing with a slight frown as he tossed a few dry sticks into the fire, which crackled and spat.

“Gongjin, they’ve been at Baling for more than a day or two. Don’t stare so anxiously. The person you’re waiting for won’t come in a hurry, and the place you’re waiting is cold and windy.”

Zhou Yu withdrew his gaze and walked toward the fire pit. “I wonder if the letter has reached their hands.”

Lu Meng squinted, beckoning a nearby soldier who spread a mat on the ground.

“You have that scheming look about you—what are you plotting against me? There are no eligible young ladies in my family,” Zhou Yu said as he sat down, stretching his hands toward the fire. The warmth slowly colored his pale, chilled face with a healthy flush.

Lu Meng curled his lip. “At the very least, I’m an upright and dignified general—I would never stoop to such behavior.”

Zhou Yu smiled at Lu Meng but said nothing.

Lu Meng prodded the lamb with his knife, sighing, “Imagine, a general like me, yet I have no authority in front of a friend…”

“What is it you want to say?”

“General, water.”

Zhou Yu took the water skin, uncorked it, and drank a few mouthfuls.

As soon as Zhou Yu spoke, Lu Meng sidled up with a grin. “Can’t you tell me what you wrote in that letter?”

Zhou Yu set down the water skin and regarded Lu Meng. “It’s nothing significant—just a promise. If they surrender to the court, they will not be treated poorly.”

---

“They’re rebelling with Yuan Shu, aren’t they? Would the court really accept their surrender?”

Zhou Yu shook his head. “They’re not the same as Yuan Shu. Yuan Shu’s banner is to proclaim himself emperor, but those men fight to avenge their former lord, Liu Biao.”

“But Liu Biao didn’t end well either. If it’s truly for vengeance, I doubt they’ll surrender,” Lu Meng replied.

“Not necessarily,” Zhou Yu said. “Liu Biao was kind to them, but their loyalty is uncertain.”

“As soon as suspicion enters men’s hearts, division will follow, and this so-called army of eighty thousand will collapse into chaos.”

Lu Meng chewed and swallowed another piece of lamb. “Are you and Changsu twins? Did your family think the two of you being born together was unlucky and cast him out?”

“Nonsense.”

Lu Meng signaled a soldier, who handed him a bamboo slip. “Here’s a victory report sent by Changsu—Lu Bu’s general Zang Ba was slain at Wancheng, a great triumph.”

Zhou Yu took the slip, unsurprised. “Lu Bu’s real enemy now is Cao Cao. Aligning with Yuan Shu is just a means to oppose the Chancellor. Zang Ba was easily defeated, but I didn’t expect Bofu to win so swiftly.”

“There’s more from Changsu. Take a look.”

Zhou Yu read on and found that Changsu’s strategies for dealing with Han Xuan and his cohorts were exactly what he himself had planned—almost word for word.

He couldn’t help but laugh quietly.

“What? He really is your twin brother!”

“No, just a kindred spirit, rare to find—and I’ve met one.”

Zhou Yu’s appetite was modest. After a few pieces of lamb, he was full, while Lu Meng continued cutting and eating with great relish.

Zhou Yu regarded this fierce general, shook his head, and laughed. “Changsu speaks highly of you, saying you’re exceptional and will one day astonish the world. But looking at you now, it’s hard to believe.”

“Scholars always flatter,” Lu Meng said, tossing a bone aside. “You’ve never seen Changsu’s wife’s cooking—that skill is unmatched. She must have been the daughter of a master chef…”

Zhou Yu knew Lu Meng’s nature—straightforward and blunt, speaking whatever came to mind without care for subtlety.

It made for entertaining company.

---

“But one thing baffles me, Gongjin,” Lu Meng suddenly shifted the topic, regaining Zhou Yu’s attention. “You know your merits don’t match those old generals, so why did you volunteer to fight Yuan Shu?”

“Bofu has already entered the fray.”

“Ah, oh, hmm.”

Zhou Yu glanced at Lu Meng, his expression slightly distant. “The General of Cavalry is an office equal to the Three Excellencies. In the past, the brilliant Huo Qubing held this post. Now Bofu sits in this position, yet he isn’t heir apparent; it shows the Chancellor wants to mold Bofu into another Huo Qubing, not a prince or king.”

“Yes, you’ve said as much before.” Lu Meng nodded, took a drink, and signaled the soldiers, who eagerly took away the remaining lamb to share among themselves.

“We both know Bofu’s old ambition was to become a mighty general feared throughout the empire, but now he aspires to be the heir. The Chancellor wants to nurture the young master, even making the old generals his wings. Of all of us, only Changsu and Bofu can match them in merit and prestige. The rest of us are just making up the numbers.”

“For the sake of our friend, as his subordinates, we must push him forward—not only must Bofu strive, we must as well.”

---

At Baling, in Zhao Fan’s residence, Han Xuan, despite his words, dared not act too rashly—for although Zhao Fan lacked talent, he did command a real force of ten thousand.

“Reporting, sir, someone outside requests an audience!”

“To hell with them! I’m already in a foul mood—whoever it is, tell them to get lost!” Zhao Fan glared, voice harsh.

The soldier, clearly intimidated, replied, “Sir, he says he bears an order from Lord Zhou Yu and has come to deliver a letter to you.”

“Zhou Yu?” Zhao Fan set down his wine cup with a thud, his face flushed with drink. “The son of that old Zhou Yi? I heard not long ago that he’s serving under Sun Jian now—some sort of general, I think.”

Muttering for a while, Zhao Fan finally nodded. “Let him in.”

Gou Yi bowed to Zhao Fan. “My lord, this is a letter from my general to you.”

“Set it aside,” Zhao Fan said, holding his cup as a maid refilled it. “Tell me, who commands your army this time?”

Gou Yi replied with calm dignity, “The strategist-general, Lord Zhou Gongjin.”

“Hahaha, that Zhou Yi did raise a fine son.”