The first thing I saw after opening my eyes was a woman's chest.
This was, under ordinary circumstances, an excellent way to begin a morning.
Unfortunately, there were several complications.
First, I didn't know the woman.
Second, I didn't know the room.
Third, judging from the pounding behind my eyes, somebody had spent the previous evening attempting to preserve my brain in wine.
And fourth, the beautiful stranger appeared to know me.
"Young Master?"
I stared upward.
She had leaned over the bed to draw apart the curtain. Her robe covered her properly. The problem was entirely my angle and, if I was being fair, my character.
She was perhaps twenty or a little older, with an oval face, clear dark eyes and black hair gathered into a neat knot held by a plain pin. Nothing extravagant. A servant, probably.
A very pretty servant.
There was also a tiny dark mole beneath her left eye.
For some reason, that was what made her face stick.
"Young Master."
A little sharper this time.
Her gaze dropped to where mine had been.
Ah.
I raised my eyes.
She looked at me.
I looked at her.
Neither of us said anything.
Then my skull split open.
"Ugh."
I shut my eyes and pressed both hands against my temples.
The woman straightened.
"You deserve it."
Interesting.
Either I had awakened in a remarkably egalitarian age, or this woman had known me long enough to become fearless.
I opened one eye.
She was pouring water.
"How much did I drink?"
"Seven cups."
Seven.
Not ideal.
"Large cups?"
Her hand stopped.
I immediately understood that this was not something I normally asked.
"Never mind."
She brought the cup.
I took it.
The first swallow nearly made me groan.
The second made me notice the cup.
The surface beneath my fingers wasn't perfectly smooth. The rim wasn't machine-perfect either. It had weight in the wrong places.
I slowly lowered it.
Then I looked around.
Wooden beams overhead.
A painted screen.
Bronze lamp.
Lacquered chest.
Low table.
Heavy bed curtains.
Light filtering through wooden latticework.
No ceiling light.
No wall switch.
No phone.
No charger.
No air conditioner.
No anything.
I looked down.
A length of black hair had fallen over my shoulder.
I picked it up.
The woman watched me.
I let it go.
She stared harder.
Excellent.
Whatever crisis I was currently experiencing, I was handling it with tremendous subtlety.
I drank again.
"Last night."
"What about it?"
"Tell me."
Her brows drew together.
"You don't remember?"
"Fragments."
"What fragments?"
None.
But that seemed like the sort of answer that resulted in physicians, priests, or concerned relatives becoming involved.
"I remember drinking."
"Anyone could have guessed that."
Good.
Sarcastic.
Definitely familiar.
"And?"
"Miss Yue came after the second watch."
A woman.
Promising.
"Miss Yue."
"Yes."
"Pretty?"
Now she really stared.
There.
That sounded normal.
I felt absurdly relieved.
"You invited her."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"You told her she had the most beautiful hands in Luoyang."
I considered that.
"Was I right?"
The woman's lips pressed together.
Not quite a smile.
Interesting.
"What happened?"
"You listened to her play."
"Good."
"You drank."
"Expected."
"You said her hands were too beautiful for sad music."
I lowered the cup.
"That isn't bad."
"She ignored you."
"Some women have no appreciation for art."
That almost got her.
I saw it in her eyes.
Then she said, "You told her you could play better."
I paused.
"Can I?"
"No."
"And then?"
"You lost."
"To the instrument?"
"To the wine."
I looked at her.
She looked down.
The corner of her mouth betrayed her.
For the first time since opening my eyes, I felt something approaching happiness.
"And after losing?"
"You vomited on Xu An."
I waited.
She did not elaborate.
"Who is Xu An?"
Her smile vanished.
Fuck.
The silence changed.
Not dramatically. She didn't scream or recoil.
She simply looked at me very carefully.
I had asked the wrong question.
Before I could repair it, footsteps sounded beyond the door.
"Qiao'er?"
A man's voice.
The woman glanced toward the entrance.
Qiao'er.
Wonderful.
A name delivered by Heaven itself.
A young man entered without ceremony, saw me sitting upright, and stopped.
His face showed relief.
Then irritation.
"You're alive."
"You're Xu An."
Now he stopped for a different reason.
I lifted the cup.
"I vomited on you."
His expression darkened.
"Twice."
"Twice?"
"Twice."
I thought about it.
"Then I apologize for the second."
Qiao'er lowered her head.
Her shoulders moved.
Xu An stared at me.
"What about the first?"
"You had warning after that."
Qiao'er lost the battle and laughed softly into her sleeve.
Xu An pointed at me.
"This is why people curse you."
"Not everyone."
I looked at Qiao'er.
She immediately composed herself.
"I said nothing."
"Your face did."
"My face has better judgment than Young Master."
Oh.
So she had teeth.
Excellent.
I liked her already.
That thought caused a separate problem.
I had no idea who she was.
Not really.
Qiao'er knew how much I drank, which women I invited and whether I could play music. Xu An could insult me before breakfast without checking whether he would be beaten for it.
They knew the owner of this body.
I had inherited the body.
Not the years that came before it.
That was dangerous.
Qiao'er saw my expression change.
"Young Master?"
I looked at her again.
The mole beneath her eye caught my attention.
An idea came to me.
Probably a bad one.
Most of my ideas appeared to belong to that family.
"The mole beneath your eye."
Her fingers rose toward it before she stopped herself.
"What about it?"
"It makes your smile look dishonest."
She stared.
Xu An looked from her to me.
I continued.
"Like you're always half a breath from laughing at someone and hoping they don't notice."
Qiao'er said nothing.
For the first time since I woke, I had surprised her.
Then she recovered.
"Young Master must still be drunk."
"No. I think I see better sober."
That earned me another look.
Different from the others.
I wasn't sure what it meant.
Good.
If I couldn't understand women in the twenty-first century, I had no business expecting a miracle two thousand years earlier.
She picked up the basin.
"You have never mentioned it before."
"I've been negligent."
"Very."
Xu An made an impatient sound.
"Can the two of you discuss Qiao'er's face after he gets dressed? The Master has sent for him twice."
The Master.
My amusement died.
"Why?"
Xu An stared at me.
"Because he wants you."
"I gathered that. Why?"
"How should I know?"
Qiao'er had gone to the chest and lifted out several folded garments.
"You should go before he sends someone again."
"What happens then?"
Neither answered.
Right.
That told me enough.
I stood.
The room immediately rolled to the left.
Xu An caught my arm before I fell.
Qiao'er had moved too, but stopped when Xu An reached me first.
That small hesitation registered.
She entered my room. Handled my clothing. Brought water. Clearly possessed the privilege of speaking frankly when we were private.
But she was still a servant in an elite household.
There were lines.
Important ones.
I needed to learn them before my ignorance cost somebody more than embarrassment.
"I'm fine."
"You nearly fell."
"A tactical withdrawal."
"From the floor?"
"It was advancing."
Xu An looked at Qiao'er.
"He's still drunk."
"Probably."
Traitors.
Qiao'er held up a robe.
I stared at it.
She waited.
I stared longer.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Young Master?"
"Yes?"
"Your arms."
Ah.
I put my arms out.
Getting dressed proved significantly more complicated than expected.
There were layers.
Ties.
An overlap that apparently mattered.
I put it across the wrong way.
Qiao'er looked at my hands.
Then at me.
I smiled.
"Headache."
She stepped closer without comment and corrected it.
Quick fingers. Practiced movements.
She had done this before.
Many times, probably.
The distance between us became very small.
I caught the faint scent of whatever she used in her hair.
My eyes lowered.
I stopped them halfway.
Character development.
Qiao'er tied my sash.
I said, "Thank you."
Her hands stopped.
Another mistake.
Not a dangerous one.
Just strange.
She looked up.
"You thanked me."
"I occasionally remember civilization."
Xu An snorted.
Qiao'er finished the knot.
"How fortunate for civilization."
I smiled.
Then asked, as casually as I could, "What happened yesterday?"
Both of them went still.
Too broad.
I touched my forehead.
"After noon. Before the musicians. Everything is mixed together."
Xu An frowned.
"The whole city was in chaos."
"Why?"
"Young Master."
"My skull is trying to kill me. Help it or help me."
He sighed.
"The Prince of Chenliu ascended the throne."
The world stopped.
Prince of Chenliu.
I knew that title.
No.
I knew lots of titles.
Chinese history was enormous. Surely there had been several Princes of Chenliu.
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"And the emperor before him?"
Xu An's frown deepened.
"The Prince of Hongnong now."
There went hope.
Liu Bian deposed.
Liu Xie enthroned.
Luoyang.
I sat down.
Qiao'er immediately noticed.
"Young Master?"
I barely heard her.
He Jin was dead.
The eunuchs had been slaughtered.
Dong Zhuo had entered Luoyang.
Ding Yuan.
Lü Bu.
Yuan Shao.
Coalition.
Luoyang burned.
Chang'an.
Wang Yun.
Diao Chan.
No.
Wait.
Diao Chan was Romance.
Mostly.
There was a maid.
Lü Bu had an affair with a maid.
Or maybe that was later.
Fuck.
My entire knowledge of this period suddenly resembled a desk drawer someone had shaken violently.
History.
Romance.
Television.
Games.
Random articles I read at two in the morning.
All mixed together.
I'd spent years being the annoying friend who could explain why a scene in a Three Kingdoms drama wasn't historically accurate.
Now my life depended on remembering which explanation had been correct.
"Hulao Pass," I muttered.
Xu An leaned closer.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Did the famous battle at Hulao Pass even happen?
No.
The Three Heroes versus Lü Bu certainly didn't.
Probably.
Wonderful.
My historical knowledge had begun betraying me before I even knew my own name.
I needed that name.
More importantly, I needed my father's.
Asking either directly would be insane.
Qiao'er was watching me now.
Very closely.
"Should I fetch Madam?"
Madam.
Mother, probably.
"Wait."
She stopped.
"Lord Yuan left Luoyang?"
Xu An looked confused.
"Yes."
Yuan Shao.
It had to be.
"After arguing with Father?"
Another silence.
I had pushed too far.
Qiao'er answered carefully.
"Everyone heard of the quarrel."
Father.
Yuan Shao.
Deposition.
My hands had gone cold.
One possibility remained, and I hated it.
"Uncle Min was with Father yesterday?"
Xu An's eyes narrowed.
"Of course."
"Dong Min."
Now both of them looked alarmed.
I had my answer.
Dong.
My surname was Dong.
Adult son.
Luoyang.
I knew enough Three Kingdoms history to understand precisely how cruel the universe was being.
"I am Dong Zhuo's son."
I had meant to think it.
I said it aloud.
Xu An stared.
Qiao'er stared.
I lay back down.
"No."
Qiao'er stepped toward me.
"Young Master?"
"No."
"What?"
"I reject this."
Xu An looked at her.
She looked at him.
Neither had the slightest idea what I was rejecting.
Good.
Let them keep it that way.
I covered my face.
Dong Zhuo.
The Dong Zhuo.
One of the most hated men in Chinese history.
Brutal.
Powerful.
Increasingly tyrannical.
Assassinated by Lü Bu in 192.
And afterward...
His clan.
I remembered the ending far more clearly than I wanted to.
The family didn't survive.
Mother.
Children.
Relatives.
An old woman begging for her life.
Was that Dong Zhuo's mother?
I thought so.
Ninety years old.
Maybe.
Wonderful.
Even my grandmother had an appointment with history.
I had approximately three years before this entire family became a public execution.
Assuming the timeline behaved.
Assuming I survived that long.
Assuming I didn't say something stupid and get killed this morning.
Qiao'er leaned toward me.
"Young Master, look at me."
I did.
She examined my face.
Concern had replaced amusement.
She was beautiful when annoyed.
She was much more dangerous when worried.
"I should call Madam."
"I'm fine."
"You forgot Xu An."
"Understandable."
Xu An swore under his breath.
"You forgot your uncle."
"Briefly."
"You said you reject being your father's son."
Ah.
She had caught that.
Clever girl.
I needed a lie.
"A man should be permitted to reject family before breakfast."
Xu An groaned.
Qiao'er did not laugh.
Her eyes remained on me.
Damn.
She knew me too well for easy nonsense.
I softened my voice.
"Give me a little time. My head is bad. That's all."
She hesitated.
Then nodded once.
Not convinced.
But willing.
"For a little while."
"Thank you."
That made her look at me again.
Right.
Apparently gratitude was suspicious too.
Original Dong Yu, what exactly did you do all day?
Actually, I knew.
Drink.
Sleep.
Look at women.
Maybe this was salvageable.
I sat up.
All right.
Think.
Dong Zhuo dies in 192.
Therefore I leave before 192.
Beautiful.
Simple.
Take money.
Find some obscure estate far from famous armies.
Disappear.
Eat well.
Sleep late.
Find a beautiful wife with no politically significant relatives.
Perhaps a concubine later.
I was not greedy.
Survival required goals.
No office.
No command.
No heroic reputation.
Absolutely no involvement with Cao Cao.
Or Liu Bei.
Or Sun Jian.
Or Yuan Shao.
Or anybody whose portrait eventually appeared in a videogame.
Most importantly, avoid Lü Bu.
If a man was historically famous for killing his superiors, I had no interest in becoming memorable to him.
Easy.
I knew the broad future.
I didn't need to conquer China.
I only needed to avoid it.
The door opened.
A woman entered.
Xu An immediately straightened.
Qiao'er stepped aside and lowered her head.
I didn't need anyone to tell me.
Mother.
She was perhaps in her forties, still handsome, with the sort of composed face that suggested shouting had long ago become unnecessary. Her robe was richer than Qiao'er's, though not excessively decorated. Her hair was arranged with two pins and not a strand seemed out of place.
Her eyes went first to Qiao'er.
"What happened?"
Not to me.
Qiao'er.
Interesting.
"He remembers little of last night, Madam."
"That is hardly unusual."
Xu An lowered his head.
Qiao'er continued, "He was confused about several things."
Traitor.
Mother came closer.
"What things?"
Qiao'er hesitated.
I appreciated that.
"Names."
Mother's gaze snapped to me.
Less appreciated.
She put the back of her hand against my forehead.
"No fever."
"I'm fine."
"Qiao'er doesn't think so."
I looked past her at Qiao'er.
Qiao'er studied the floor.
So this was the hierarchy.
Qiao'er could argue with me.
When something actually mattered, she went to my mother.
Reasonable.
Terrible for me.
Mother ran her fingers carefully along the side of my head.
"You fell?"
"On Xu An."
Xu An raised his head.
"After he vomited on me."
Mother ignored him.
I liked her already.
Then she looked at Qiao'er.
"What else?"
Qiao'er was silent.
Mother waited.
Qiao'er glanced at me.
"Young Master noticed my mole."
I stared at her.
Of all the betrayals available to her, she had selected this one?
Mother looked at Qiao'er's face.
Then at me.
"At nineteen?"
Xu An made a strange choking sound.
I pointed toward Qiao'er.
"I've always known she had a face."
Mother's expression did not move.
Qiao'er's did.
Only slightly.
"Have you?" Mother asked.
"I could describe it."
Qiao'er spoke very softly.
"Young Master has generally preferred easier scenery."
Xu An turned away.
I stared at her.
She lowered her eyes with perfect obedience.
There was not a trace of insolence in her posture.
The line had already been delivered.
Oh, I liked this woman.
Mother's mouth almost moved.
Almost.
Then she looked back at me.
"You are well enough."
"For what?"
"Your father."
There went my mood.
"I was hoping to recover."
"He sent for you."
"Tell him I'm asleep."
"He knows you're awake."
"Tell him I've suffered a relapse."
"Yu'er."
That tone crossed two thousand years without translation.
I surrendered.
"What does he want?"
"How would I know?"
"You've been married to him for decades."
"And in all those years I have not learned to read his mind."
Reasonable.
"Can you guess?"
"Work."
Horror hit me with such sincerity that Qiao'er finally relaxed.
Mother noticed too.
There.
That reaction she recognized.
"You see?" I said. "I'm gravely ill."
"You have been gravely ill whenever your father mentions responsibility."
"Then we have identified the cause."
Mother adjusted my collar.
"Whatever he asks, listen before refusing."
"Can I refuse after?"
A pause.
"Politely."
Excellent.
A loophole.
Then she said, "Your father replaced the emperor yesterday. You spent the evening drinking with musicians."
I stared at her.
There it was.
The entire fall of the Han dynasty, compressed into the tone of a mother discussing her disappointing son.
My father replaced the emperor yesterday.
Dong Zhuo.
Dad.
That was going to take some adjustment.
Mother's expression softened slightly.
"At least try not to embarrass him this morning."
I nearly laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because she had no idea how large the embarrassment was about to become.
She turned to leave.
"Mother."
She stopped.
The word felt strange in my mouth.
She didn't notice.
Of course she didn't.
"If I wanted an estate west of Luoyang..."
Now she noticed.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
Too serious.
I smiled.
"For retirement."
Behind her, Qiao'er made a soft sound.
Mother stared at me.
"Retirement."
"Early retirement is the purest form."
"From what?"
I thought about it.
"Exactly."
Qiao'er covered her mouth.
Mother's stare lasted another second.
Then, against her will, the corner of her mouth moved.
Good.
Still useless.
Still safe.
"Ask your father."
That was less good.
The residence looked as though an army had conquered an aristocrat's home and then discovered nobody knew where to put the horses.
The buildings themselves were elegant.
Covered passages ran between courtyards. Old trees shaded paving stones. Painted beams and carved screens suggested the previous occupants had possessed both wealth and enough generations of it to stop showing off loudly.
Then my family arrived.
Spears leaned beneath the eaves.
Saddles rested against polished walls.
Crates occupied one side of a courtyard designed around ornamental stones.
Soldiers from the western armies moved through passages while servants moved around them with the careful expressions of people adapting to new masters.
Mud.
There was an astonishing amount of mud.
I had expected Dong Zhuo's household to look decadent.
Instead, it looked temporary.
Military.
Recently occupied.
That frightened me more.
These people had not grown fat in Luoyang.
Not yet.
Mother walked ahead.
Xu An stayed beside me.
Qiao'er remained behind to put my room in order.
I found myself glancing back once.
Xu An noticed.
"Forgot something?"
"No."
"Qiao'er?"
I looked at him.
He smiled.
"Be quiet."
Good.
Original Dong Yu's reputation was already working.
"Do I have money?"
His smile vanished.
"What?"
"Money."
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Why?"
"Am I rich?"
He gave me the look reserved for stupid questions.
"Your father is Dong Zhuo."
"That answers whether Father is rich."
"You are his son."
"That answers genealogy."
"Why do you suddenly care?"
Because I planned to flee history with as much portable wealth as I could carry.
"Women are expensive."
Xu An accepted that instantly.
Excellent.
"How expensive?"
"That depends on the woman."
Even better answer.
I was about to investigate when a horse screamed.
Men shouted in the courtyard ahead.
Mother stopped.
So did I.
A dark stallion had pulled free enough to drag one groom several steps. Another man tried to catch the rein and nearly caught a hoof instead.
Then someone stepped between them.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
He caught the rein close and moved with the horse instead of trying to haul it backward. The animal twisted. He turned with it. It reared halfway and came down hard.
The man never seemed hurried.
That was what disturbed me.
Everyone else reacted to the horse.
He appeared to have decided how the scene would end and was merely waiting for the animal to understand.
A few moments later the stallion stood blowing hard through its nostrils.
The man handed the rein back to the groom.
"Walk him."
The groom bowed.
"Do not mount him again this morning."
Then the man turned.
My heart stopped.
Not because I recognized his face.
I didn't.
I recognized the shape of the moment.
Mother said, "Fengxian."
Oh, fuck.
The man saluted her.
"Madam."
Lü Bu.
Lü Fengxian.
I had seen Lü Bu hundreds of times.
Television dramas.
Games.
Illustrations.
A ridiculous amount of armor.
A halberd the size of a lamppost.
Boss music, basically.
This was worse.
This was just a man.
A real man.
No glowing aura.
No dramatic camera angle.
A sword at his waist, sweat still visible on one hand from the horse's rein, standing close enough that I could see the dust on his boots.
Suddenly every ridiculous story about him felt less ridiculous.
He looked at me.
"Young Master."
There were many correct ways to behave around Lü Bu.
I knew none of them.
"Commandant Lü."
I bowed.
His eyes stayed on me.
Too formal?
Original Me probably called him something else.
Brother Fengxian?
Absolutely not.
I would die before voluntarily establishing a familial relationship with this man.
Although, historically speaking, that was apparently already Father's hobby.
Lü Bu's gaze remained on me for one heartbeat longer than comfortable.
Then I realized why.
I was staring at him.
Not normal staring.
Not impressed staring.
I was looking at him like a tiger that had somehow learned to wear clothes.
I looked away.
Smooth.
Very smooth.
Mother glanced toward the horse.
"Another new one?"
"From Bing Province."
"Difficult?"
"Young."
Mother looked at the groom nursing his shoulder.
"Keep it in the outer stable until it stops trying to murder people."
Lü Bu nodded.
No joke.
No sitcom exchange.
Just an order from a woman responsible for the inner household and a man sensible enough to understand why half-trained cavalry horses didn't belong near servants and children.
Good.
Real life.
Much scarier.
His attention returned to me.
"You look pale."
"Wine."
"Again?"
There was faint contempt there.
Wonderful.
Beautiful.
Please keep thinking I'm useless.
"An old enemy."
Something small changed in his eyes.
Not amusement exactly.
Close.
Stop being charming.
Do not accidentally charm Lü Bu.
Mother continued walking.
I followed at once.
When we had crossed into the next passage, Xu An leaned toward me.
"That was strange."
"What?"
"You greeted him."
I turned.
"What do I normally do?"
"Avoid him."
My soul filled with gratitude for the dead young man whose life I had stolen.
"A wise habit."
"You usually say he makes you want to practice riding."
I stared.
"That doesn't sound wise."
"You hate riding."
Ah.
So avoiding Lü Bu had previously been about exercise.
Perfect.
Nothing needed changing.
I looked back once.
Lü Bu was still standing in the courtyard.
Watching me leave.
I faced forward immediately.
No.
Nothing needed changing at all.