Dong Yu
Dong Zhuo was eating breakfast.
This offended me on a spiritual level.
The Dong Zhuo in my head was a historical monster.
Historical monsters should loom over maps.
Perhaps execute someone.
At minimum, they should have ominous lighting.
My father had a bowl of mutton, a dish of steamed grain, several smaller plates, and a stack of documents he had clearly decided not to eat from.
He was large.
Not the grotesque mountain later stories liked to paint, but large the way a man gets after decades of riding and fighting, followed by the discovery that the capital has better food than the frontier.
Thick hands.
Weathered face.
Grey in the beard.
He looked dangerous.
Then he saw me, and his whole face changed.
“There he is.”
Warmth.
Actual warmth.
I had not prepared for that.
He pointed his chopsticks at me.
“Come here, you useless thing.”
That, I had prepared for.
I sat.
Mother took a seat farther down.
Lü Bu stopped somewhere behind my left shoulder, which was not a place anyone should want Lü Bu to stop.
Xu An stood behind me.
Qiao’er was not here.
Good.
Fewer witnesses.
Father looked me over.
“Your mother says you nearly drank yourself dead.”
“Malicious gossip.”
“Seven cups,” said Xu An.
Father laughed.
A big laugh, with no cultured restraint in it at all.
Then he reached across, took a piece of meat from his own bowl, and dropped it into mine.
“Eat.”
I stared at it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then eat.”
I ate.
It was good.
That was inconvenient.
I had expected Dong Zhuo to be easier to hate.
Tyrant.
Usurper.
Villain.
This morning he was Dad.
A terrifying Dad who had replaced an emperor yesterday, but still.
Dad.
“So,” he said.
“Today you begin.”
My chopsticks stopped.
“Begin what?”
“Work.”
“No.”
The room went silent.
Mother closed her eyes.
Xu An studied the floor.
Two officers by the door became deeply interested in the ceiling beams.
Father looked at me for a long moment.
Then he burst out laughing.
“I was worried the wine had changed you.
Still useless.”
Relief.
Sweet, beautiful relief.
“Consistency is a virtue.”
“Not yours.” He pointed his chopsticks at a thin man standing to his right.
“Wenyou.”
Neat beard.
Scholar’s robes.
Quiet eyes.
Li Ru.
Of course.
Lü Bu behind me, Li Ru in front.
All we needed now was Wang Yun.
“Explain to my son,” said Father, “why a man of nineteen cannot spend every day listening to women sing.”
Li Ru considered me.
“Because the singers have started asking to be paid in advance.”
Father roared.
Mother hid her mouth behind her cup.
Li Ru’s face did not move at all.
Unfortunate.
He was funny.
I had been hoping to hate him.
“Lord Li,” I said, “we have only just met, and you have already wounded me.”
“We have met before.”
Of course we had.
“I meant spiritually.”
His eyes stayed on me a moment longer than I liked.
“Your father wants you to learn the household properties,” he said.
“Fields.
Storehouses.
Tenants.
Income.”
I nearly laughed.
I had died in procurement and been reborn into procurement.
There was no justice in Heaven.
“I refuse.”
Father pointed his chopsticks at me again.
“You refused military service.”
“Correct.”
“Riding practice.”
“Reasonable.”
“Archery.”
“My arms are delicate.”
Behind me, Lü Bu made a small sound.
I ignored it with my whole body.
“And now you refuse to count grain?”
“I have principles.”
“What principles?”
“Never become good at work you don’t want to do.”
Li Ru looked at me.
That one may have been a little too modern.
I added, “Competent servants are punished with more tasks.”
I glanced back.
Xu An was nodding slowly, like a monk hearing scripture.
Father snorted.
“Then what do you want?”
There.
The opening.
“A small estate.”
“You have access to several.”
“My own.”
“For what?”
“Retirement.”
Mother sighed.
Father stared.
“You’re nineteen.”
“I would like to leave undefeated.”
Father laughed so hard the plates rattled.
Even Li Ru’s mouth moved.
Good.
Keep them laughing.
Nobody worries that a clown wants the throne.
“And what will you do on this estate?”
“Very little.”
“Be specific.”
“Sleep.
Eat well.
Drink.” Mother’s eyes moved to me.
“In moderation.”
Nobody in the room believed me.
“Fine.
Occasionally without moderation.”
Father grinned.
“And?”
“Music.”
His grin widened.
“And?”
I knew exactly what he wanted.
I looked at Mother.
She looked back.
I looked at Father.
He waited.
“A beautiful wife would make rural life tolerable.”
Mother set down her cup.
Father roared again.
Safe.
Perfectly safe.
I would cultivate uselessness with religious devotion.
Father wiped his beard.
“Where?”
“West.”
Li Ru looked at me.
A tiny movement.
I noticed it, and I wished I hadn’t.
“How far?” said Father.
“Far enough.”
“From what?”
“Luoyang.”
Now he cared.
I should have said scenery.
I should have said women.
“Why west?” Li Ru asked.
Casual voice.
Not a casual question.
I shrugged.
“Yuan Shao went east.”
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
That had come out far too naturally.
Father leaned back.
“What does Yuan Shao have to do with your estate?”
“Nothing.
That’s the attraction.”
Father laughed once.
Li Ru didn’t.
He was looking at me properly now.
“Explain,” said Father, in the tone that meant no was not one of the available answers.
I put down my chopsticks.
“Lord Yuan argued with you in the capital.
Then he left.
Which makes him safer.”
“Safer?”
“From you.”
Lü Bu went very still behind me.
Maybe don’t say that with Lü Bu in the room.
Too late.
“If I insult you here, I die,” I said.
Father nodded.
At least we agreed on something.
“If I insult you from several hundred li away, someone has to saddle a horse first.”
Father laughed.
Li Ru did not.
I kept talking, because I was an idiot.
“Distance makes brave men out of cowards.”
“You think Yuan Shao is a coward?” said Li Ru.
“I think most men prefer their danger far away.” That included me.
That especially included me.
Father reached for his cup.
“And then?”
Then he builds a coalition and tries to kill us all.
I couldn’t say that.
So I backed into the truth.
“The Yuan clan has served at court for generations.”
“Four,” said Li Ru.
“Four.” Good thing he knew.
“Their old students and officers are everywhere.
Men owe them favors.
Men want favors from them.
If Yuan Shao wants revenge, he doesn’t need to say ‘avenge Yuan Shao.'”
Father stopped drinking.
I noticed.
Too late again.
Li Ru’s voice went quiet.
“What does he say?”
The room had changed.
No laughter now.
Dong Zhuo.
Li Ru.
Lü Bu.
Mother.
Officers.
Somehow I had turned breakfast into an oral exam on how best to overthrow my father.
Excellent work.
“He says the emperor was forced,” I said carefully.
“He says loyal men must restore order to the court.
He says nothing about his quarrel, or his pride, or his fear.
He makes it about loyalty.”
Li Ru finished it softly.
“And gives every ambitious man east of the passes a righteous reason to raise troops.”
Yes.
Exactly.
The bastard.
I needed this conversation dead immediately.
“So,” I said, “I would like an estate.”
Father blinked.
“If I’m wrong, I get land, wine, and a wife.
If I’m right, I get land, wine, and a wife somewhere nobody is marching.
I fail to see the weakness in this plan.”
Father’s mouth twitched.
Then he started laughing, thank Heaven.
“You coward.”
The greatest compliment I had received in either life.
“I have never claimed otherwise.”
The officers relaxed.
Even Lü Bu looked amused.
Li Ru did not.
That was becoming a pattern.
“Why west?” he said again.
“We covered this.”
“We covered why you dislike the east.”
“Is that not enough?”
“No.”
I hated educated people.
“West is closer to Father’s strength.”
His gaze sharpened.
Damn it.
“And farther from men who have reasons to hate him,” I added quickly.
“This is not complicated.”
“And your mother?”
“What about her?”
“Does she stay in Luoyang while you enjoy your estate?”
The question was absurd.
Then it wasn’t.
Dong Zhuo dies in 192.
The whole clan goes to the execution ground.
My grandmother.
Mother.
Mother was watching me.
Not as Lady Song.
As the woman who had felt my head for injuries twenty minutes ago.
I looked away first.
“No.”
Father stopped smiling.
I pretended not to notice.
“I’d take Mother.”
Her expression changed.
Very slightly.
Sentiment was dangerous.
I added greed quickly.
“And her jewelry.
The silver too.
Anything portable.”
Father’s smile came back.
Good.
“Grain?” said Li Ru.
Why had he asked that?
Because grain mattered.
Money was useful right up until nobody would sell you food.
Armies ate everything around them.
Refugees ate what was left.
None of that was secret.
It was obvious to anyone who had ever lived through a shortage.
Unfortunately, the original Dong Yu had never lived through anything worse than an empty wine jar.
“Obviously grain.”
I regretted the word obviously immediately.
“Why?”
“Because silver tastes terrible.” Father barked a laugh.
Li Ru did not even blink.
“If the roads go bad, grain gets hard to find before jewelry does.
Mother cannot eat bracelets.”
Mother spoke for the first time.
“When did you begin worrying about grain?”
Excellent question.
I had no answer.
Xu An saved me.
“My lady, when Young Master was fourteen, he hid dried cakes under his bedding because he heard there were bandits on the road to Lintao.”
Everyone looked at him.
So did I.
“You remember that?”
“I found the ants.”
Father nearly choked.
Mother covered her mouth.
Even Li Ru looked down at the table.
My strategic reputation died before it was born.
Blessed boyhood.
“I rest my case.
I have always been a visionary regarding snacks.”
Father laughed harder.
Safe.
Conversation over.
Then he said, “Very well.”
I froze.
“Very well?”
“You want the western properties.”
Hope bloomed.
“Yes.”
“Learn them.”
Hope died.
“No.”
“Wenyou.
Send the household registers to Yu’s rooms.”
“Why?”
“You want an estate.”
“I want to live on an estate.
Those are different ambitions.”
“You’ll inspect the nearer holdings first.
The stores.
The households attached to them.
If you still want land after that, I’ll give you something.”
I looked at Mother.
She calmly drank from her cup.
I looked at Xu An.
He had the indecency to look pleased.
Li Ru looked satisfied.
This was a conspiracy.
“I withdraw my request.”
“Too late.”
“I have rediscovered my love for Luoyang.
I never wish to leave.”
“Excellent.”
“Then there is no need to inspect anything.”
Father pointed at me.
“This is why you need work.”
I had walked straight into that.
Fine.
Annoying, but survivable.
A few registers.
I could hand everything to Xu An.
Then Father looked past me.
“Fengxian.”
No.
Lü Bu stepped forward.
“Father.”
That word was going to haunt me.
“You ride west tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Take Yu.
Let him see the storehouses.
If he falls off his horse, put him back on.”
My soul left my body.
“That is unnecessary.”
Father grinned.
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
“I can choose a quiet horse,” said Lü Bu.
I turned.
Why was he helping?
I did not want his help.
I wanted his complete lack of interest in my existence.
“How quiet?”
“Very.”
“Old?”
“If you prefer.”
“Slow?”
A pause.
“Very slow.”
“Does it bite?”
“No.”
“Kick?”
“No.”
“Excellent.”
Lü Bu’s face stayed perfectly serious.
“It belongs to the stable master’s twelve-year-old son.”
Father exploded.
Even Mother turned her face away.
Li Ru was smiling.
He had done that on purpose.
Lü fucking Bu had made fun of me.
I pointed at him, remembered halfway through that pointing at Lü Bu was an unhealthy habit, and turned it into straightening my sleeve.
“You are enjoying this.”
His face did not move.
“Not at all.”
Liar.
Father slapped his knee.
“Tomorrow.
At dawn.”
“Dawn is unreasonable.”
“Fengxian trains before dawn.”
“Then he has already made one poor decision.”
The corner of Lü Bu’s mouth twitched.
Stop.
Stop making him like you.
Father was still laughing when Li Ru spoke.
“My lord.”
Every instinct I had told me I was not going to enjoy this.
“If the Young Master truly means to prepare a western residence for Lady Song,” said Li Ru, “it would be sensible for him to examine what could be moved from Luoyang as well.”
I turned slowly.
He met my eyes.
He had taken me seriously.
Not enough to think I was a genius.
But enough.
Father’s laughter faded into thought.
“Valuables?”
“And stores.”
“No,” I said.
“Do it,” said Father.
“I was speaking hypothetically.”
“You spoke too much.”
There was no defense against that.
Li Ru inclined his head toward me.
“I will have the registers delivered before evening.”
“Lord Li.”
“Young Master?”
“I don’t like you.”
“I had assumed as much.”
My father had deposed the emperor yesterday.
Lü Bu was taking me riding tomorrow.
Li Ru was sending me work tonight.
My mother thought I had finally begun worrying about the family.
All I had wanted was enough land to drink myself irrelevant somewhere history couldn’t find me.
I had been in this world for perhaps an hour, and my retirement had already become an assignment.
I stood.
Bowed.
Made it three steps.
“Yu.”
I stopped.
Every trace of laughter had left Father’s voice.
He was looking at me differently now.
Not proudly.
Not suspiciously.
Seriously.
“If you’re right, and Yuan Shao does gather men in the east, I want to hear your thoughts before anyone else’s.”
My stomach dropped through the floor.
I smiled anyway.
“Then let us both pray I am an idiot.”
Father laughed.
Li Ru didn’t.
That was the problem.
♦
I walked until I was sure nobody important could hear.
“Xu An.
I need money.”
He sighed.
“We discussed this.”
“We discussed whether I had money.
I need to know how much.”
“Why?”
Because the emperor was nine years old.
Because my father was Dong Zhuo.
Because the man who would kill him had just picked me a horse.
Because Li Ru had looked at me like a puzzle over breakfast.
Because Yuan Shao was alive and angry somewhere east, and Cao Cao and Sun Jian were somewhere in this mess too.
Because 192 was coming.
I needed an estate.
Silver.
Grain.
Mother out, eventually.
All without anyone noticing that I knew something was coming.
Simple.
“I have decided,” I said, “that poverty is beneath me.
Find Qiao’er.”
“Why?”
“She knows everything.”
“About the household?”
“About me.”
That was much more dangerous.
We found Qiao’er by my courtyard, talking with an older woman from the inner household.
The moment she saw me, she changed.
Back straight.
Hands folded.
Eyes down.
No remarks.
No smile.
Public Qiao’er and private Qiao’er were not the same woman.
She waited until the older woman left.
“Young Master.”
“How much money do I have?”
She blinked.
“I don’t know.
I manage your rooms, not your accounts.
Steward Han keeps those.”
“Then I need Steward Han.”
“Young Master has never once asked to see Steward Han.”
Another habit broken.
I lowered my voice.
“Then we’ll say I owe Miss Yue money.”
“You do.”
I stopped.
“How much?”
“Two bolts of silk.”
“For what?”
“Her hands.”
Of course.
The beautiful hands.
“Did she at least like me?”
Qiao’er gave the question cruel, careful thought.
“She liked the silk.
You told her one bolt would insult her.”
“Was I drunk?”
“Very.”
“Then why did anyone let me negotiate?”
Neither of them answered.
“Send both bolts.”
Qiao’er’s eyes narrowed.
“You don’t remember promising.”
“That doesn’t make the promise go away.”
That gaze again.
Too sharp.
I smiled.
“Besides, if I don’t pay, she’ll tell every beautiful woman in Luoyang that I’m cheap.”
Her face settled.
Much safer.
“An unbearable fate.”
She turned to go.
“Qiao’er.
Was Miss Yue prettier than you?”
Xu An closed his eyes.
She looked back at me for a moment.
“Young Master spent three hours looking at her.”
“I was drunk.”
“Young Master spent six years looking at me.”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
She bowed, perfectly, and walked away.
Xu An waited until she was gone.
“She won.”
“I know.”
“You should stop challenging her.”
“Never.”
“Why?”
I thought of the mole beneath her eye.
Then of Lü Bu.
Then of tomorrow, and of a horse built for a twelve-year-old.
“Because I may not have many pleasures left.”
♦
Li Ru
My lord had already moved on to an officer’s report about troops quartered near one of the gates.
An emperor had been replaced yesterday.
The government still needed breakfast.
When the officer left, I stayed.
“What?” said Dong Zhuo.
“Nothing.”
“Then leave.”
I did not.
He sighed.
“Wenyou.”
“The Young Master surprised me.”
He snorted.
“He surprised himself.”
“Most likely.”
I did not believe the boy had hidden a genius for nineteen years.
That would have required the discipline to hide anything for nineteen years.
I once watched him escape an archery lesson by climbing an inner wall, only to discover halfway down that he was afraid of the drop.
There are limits to theory.
“He is frightened,” I said.
“But not of Yuan Shao.
Of what follows Yuan Shao.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Distance.
A righteous excuse.
The Yuan clan’s network.
His mother.
Portable wealth.
Grain.
None of it was extraordinary.
Zhou Bi and Wu Qiong had already warned us that pressing Yuan Shao too hard would turn the Yuan clan’s old students against us.
The danger was known.
That was exactly what troubled me.
A prophecy, I could dismiss.
A sensible conclusion reached by the wrong person was much harder.
“He asked for the west before we questioned him,” I said.
“My son wants an estate because he wants women,” said Dong Zhuo.
“Yes.”
“You heard him.”
“I did.”
Perhaps there was nothing else.
A coward imagining danger.
A lazy man wanting distance.
A spoiled son who liked to eat, remembering grain.
Perfectly ordinary.
Except Dong Yu had always been ordinary in far stupider directions.
Dong Zhuo laughed.
“Did you see his face when I gave him to Fengxian?”
“Yes.”
“That was fear.
There’s your answer.”
Perhaps.
I bowed and turned to go.
“Wenyou.
If the boy is right?”
There was no laughter in it now.
I thought of Yuan Shao, and the Yuan name, and every man in the provinces who would need very little help to call his ambition loyalty.
“Then it would be wise,” I said, “to know exactly what we have west of the capital.”
“Send Yu the registers.”
“I intended to.”
“And?”
Through the doorway, somewhere across the courtyard, I could hear the Young Master complaining loudly that two bolts of silk for a woman’s hands was extortion.
I smiled.
“Nothing.”
For now, nothing.
I would watch him a little longer.
Tomorrow would probably cure my curiosity.
There is only so much mystery a man can keep while riding a child’s horse beside Lü Bu.
Unfortunately, acquiring them sounds suspiciously like work.
Therefore, I have delegated the matter to you.
If you enjoyed the chapter, say something below.
Praise is acceptable.
Sympathy is preferable.
Advice will probably be ignored.
I am Dong Zhuo’s son.
I have larger problems.