186 AD
Zhou Jin looked at her twin brother lying lifeless in her arms, his face covered in blood, tears streaming down like rain.
How could this happen? She had only wanted to climb a tree to pick some fruit—how could she have been so careless as to fall? And her brother, trying to save her, had hit his head on a large stone when he fell to the ground, and just like that… just like that he was suddenly gone?
Why hadn’t heaven taken away mischievous her instead of her brother, whom everyone praised?
Zhou Jin sobbed uncontrollably. Though she was only twelve years old this year, she knew that the entire Zhou family’s hopes rested on her twin brother’s shoulders. And her brother had lived up to expectations, gaining quite a reputation despite his young age. Everyone said the Zhou family was truly worthy of being a centuries-old prestigious clan—this generation would probably be even more renowned than before.
But she had destroyed it all.
Zhou Jin desperately hugged her brother tighter, wanting to call him back, hoping he could open his eyes like usual, smile at her with gentle tolerance, ruffle her hair, and comfort her that everything would be fine because he was there.
But she never waited for her brother to wake up again. She clearly recognized that her brother’s body was becoming cold in her arms, then slowly stiffening.
“Little Jin, this isn’t your fault…” Faintly, someone whispered consolation in her ear.
How could it not be her fault? If she hadn’t been mischievous, how would her brother have died trying to save her?
That person was silent for a long time, then sighed softly: “Little Jin, even if it weren’t because of you, your brother wouldn’t have lived long anyway…”
Zhou Jin suddenly jolted awake, turned her head to look at the person half-crouched beside her, and sharply demanded: “Master, what do you mean by that?”
Beside her was the tutor her father had hired to educate her brother. He wasn’t old, at most in his early twenties, wearing the same dark black robes year-round, with delicate features and a gentle manner. Zhou Jin didn’t know his surname or given name, only calling him Master. Because she had been mischievous since childhood, her father, to make her sit quietly for a while, had also thrown her to the Master to study alongside her brother.
Since tonight’s accident had happened in the evening, the attending servants hadn’t discovered it yet—only this Master had suddenly appeared. Zhou Jin was somewhat puzzled because the Master usually moved around the study area and shouldn’t have come to the inner courtyard. Seeing the Master didn’t answer but only looked at her with pity, she couldn’t help but hold her brother even tighter and continued pressing: “Master, what exactly did you mean just now?”
The Master’s gaze fell on her brother, becoming much gentler, as if carrying nostalgic sadness. She heard him slowly say: “Your brother was destined to die young at twelve years old, so regardless of the reason, even if he hadn’t died today trying to save you, heaven would have taken him tomorrow or the day after.”
“I don’t believe it!” Zhou Jin was devastated. She knew the Master must be trying to comfort her—how could anyone’s fate be predetermined? “If only… if only I had died instead…” Zhou Jin wiped the blood from her brother’s face with her hand, staring foolishly as tears fell.
“Silly child…” The Master shook his head, sighed deeply, and stood up to turn and leave.
Zhou Jin looked at the face in her arms that was almost identical to her own, and suddenly an idea rose from the depths of her heart: “Master, do you think… do you think I… I could live on in place of my brother? Would that be possible?”
The Master turned around, looking at her with surprise.
Zhou Jin gathered her courage, gazing up at the Master who had taught her to read and write, saying seriously word by word: “Brother saved my life. If I live on in his place, wouldn’t that be acceptable?”
The Master bent down again, gently touching the top of her head with pity, sighing softly: “Child, you will regret this. Disguising yourself as a man isn’t as easy as written in storybooks.”
“No! I will persist!” Zhou Jin wiped away her tears, making up her mind. No matter who tried to persuade her, she would not change her decision. Previously she had lived without pressure because her brother had shouldered all the heavy responsibilities. Originally she only needed to grow up carefree and, according to the family’s arrangements, marry into whatever power the family needed to ally with or bind—this was the fate of Zhou family women. But now that her brother had died because of her, she must have the resolve to take on the family’s heavy responsibilities in his place.
The Master was perhaps moved by her determination. After thinking for a moment, he took out a comb from his bosom, loosened the braids on her head, and carefully re-combed her hair into a boy’s topknot.
“Master…” Zhou Jin bit her lower lip, wanting to say something but not knowing what she should say.
“Child, I’m giving you this Liuqing comb. If one day you want to return to being a daughter, just use this Liuqing comb to comb your hair once more…” The Master pressed the comb into her hands, then smiled at her. “You really look like your brother.”
Zhou Jin gripped the comb tightly, its teeth pressing sharply into her palm, but she didn’t feel any pain at all.
From today onward, there would be no more Zhou Jin in this world—only her brother, Zhou Yu.
190 AD
Sun Ce casually threw down his casting sticks, making a scattered move, then looked up with a smile at the blue-robed youth across from him.
That youth was the same age as him—both at the vigorous age of sixteen—but his frame was more slender. The blue robe fluttered slightly in the night breeze passing through the hall, making him appear even more frail and thin.
Sun Ce frowned imperceptibly. He knew that the Zhou family head had just passed away last year, and the entire burden of the Zhou family now rested on the shoulders of this youth before him. He had also privately sighed more than once about how difficult things were for the other party, but because their friendship wasn’t deep, some words reached his lips but he couldn’t bring himself to speak them.
The Zhou family was a prestigious clan from Lujiang. His great-grandfather Zhou Rong had once served as Imperial Secretary, his grand-uncle and cousin had served as Grand Commandant, and even the recently deceased Zhou family head Zhou Yi had served as Luoyang Magistrate. The Zhou family was a scholarly family for generations, and this youth before him was absolutely of impeccable pedigree—a noble young master envied by all.
Sun Ce knew his own background wasn’t bad either. His father had fought pirates and carried banners against the Yellow Turbans—he was quite a remarkable figure. Though his father served as Governor of Changsha and had been enfeoffed by Yuan Shu as General Who Breaks the Ranks, he ultimately wasn’t a true general appointed by the Han court. Combined with his humble origins, he was actually looked down upon by the children of prestigious families and couldn’t earn their trust. His father had always been evaluated by those people as “frivolous and cunning”—hardly praise.
But just when their family couldn’t establish themselves in Shouchun, this young master of the Zhou family had come alone before his father for a candlelit night conversation. His father had suddenly moved the entire family to Shu County, instructing him to get along well with the other party, then led troops to crusade against Dong Zhuo.
Sun Ce had also grown up under his father’s deliberate cultivation and naturally knew that the Zhou family’s protection of him wasn’t simply providing a five-courtyard residence for them to live in. More importantly, because of the Zhou family’s favor, the attitudes of other prestigious family children toward him had also changed.
It was like a circle he could never penetrate suddenly had a crack, and he could actually squeeze in. These past days when they went hunting, to poetry gatherings, pitch-pot games, and cuju, they would invite him along—this truly flattered him. Because this didn’t just represent being able to play together; he could also make contact with some higher-level figures, which would be enormously beneficial for his father’s and his own future development.
“Your turn.” A clear, bright voice rang out, as pleasing as the sound of a qin.
Sun Ce snapped out of his reverie, only to realize his xiao piece had unknowingly been surrounded by the opponent’s scattered pieces. He thought of several breakthrough methods, but felt all escape routes were blocked. Unless he had extraordinary luck and could throw several consecutive “five whites” to eliminate the opponent’s key pieces at will, he was doomed.
“Achieving xiao while seeking profit, calling for five whites.” The blue-robed youth smiled as he picked up the nearby teapot to refill both their tea cups, filling the room with tea fragrance. “Will Brother Ce throw down his sticks in surrender, or continue gambling?”
Sun Ce had never been one to admit defeat and struggled on for several more throws before helplessly watching his xiao piece be captured by the opponent, sighing: “Brother Yu’s strategy is truly ingenious. This elder brother admits defeat.” This wasn’t flattery—he had been at the Zhou family for over half a year now and had played countless games of Six Principles Chess with this person, but hadn’t won even once. Everyone said playing chess was like deploying troops in battle formation—it seemed he was far inferior to the other.
Zhou Jin observed the dejected expression on the youth’s face across from her, satisfied to find that though his expression was dark, his eyes burned with an unyielding gaze. It seemed this time, she should have bet on the right horse.
Zhou Jin was sixteen this year, but to be precise, she had already died four years ago.
That’s right—her brother was buried under her name, while she lived on in place of her brother.
She had originally thought that impersonating her brother might be full of flaws. But she hadn’t expected that the Liuqing comb the Master left her could actually transform her into a boy. And after combing her hair once more, she would change back into a girl.
Such a magical Liuqing comb—the Master had given it to her without batting an eye, and when she wanted to find him for answers, he had already departed without saying goodbye. She could only secretly guard this secret herself.
After that night four years ago, she had fallen seriously ill. After recovering, though her physique and habitual movements were still somewhat different from her original brother’s, everyone thought he was grieving over his “sister’s” death, so no one noticed anything unusual.
No one knew she stayed awake all night studying the historical classics her brother had read before. No one knew she practiced until her fingertips bled to achieve the same qin skills as her brother. No one knew she gritted her teeth through horse stance training and heavy sword practice to earn the same praise for being accomplished in both civil and military arts as her brother… No one knew how she had forcibly transformed herself into a perfect scion of a prestigious family, and no one knew exactly what price she had paid privately.
Even her parents hadn’t noticed that their proud son had been switched, and even she herself sometimes thought it was actually her brother who lived on—that she had truly died.
She thought such days would continue. Though bitter and difficult, once she grew accustomed to them, they weren’t torturous. But she hadn’t expected her father to fall ill and never recover after news of Emperor Ling’s death arrived, just passing away like that.
Father was the family’s pillar. With him gone, the entire family’s burden fell on her shoulders.
She was only fifteen then, but saw more clearly than anyone else in the world.
When the Master had taught her and her brother at the Zhou family, he had vaguely mentioned that the current times were very similar to the end of the Qin dynasty—a time of decline and chaos. She hadn’t understood what the Master meant then, but because the sorrow on his face was so heavy, she had kept it firmly in mind. As her wisdom developed over these years and she compared various historical texts, she had to admit the Master’s insight was keen—they had truly reached turbulent times.
So slogans about supporting the Han dynasty were just pretense in her view. The Han dynasty was finished. If she wanted the Zhou family’s small boat not to capsize in the turbulent waves of these chaotic times, they could only rely on a larger ship.
So she had chosen Sun Jian.
Whether in terms of courage or strategy, he was sufficient to become a regional hegemon. As for the gap in status, she could help bridge that. “Are kings, princes, generals, and ministers born to their stations?” She had no ambition to participate in the struggle for supremacy—she just wanted to preserve her family.
However, if someone asked her the real reason for choosing Sun Jian, she couldn’t answer at all.
Perhaps it was a chance encounter in the countryside, seeing this youth ride past in fine clothes on a spirited horse, leaving a deep impression on her. So when considering supporters, the first power that came to mind was the Sun family.
Well, this was for the greater good. A stable power most importantly needed a perfect leader and also an excellent heir. For example, Jingzhou Shepherd Liu Biao could be considered a regional hero, but his sons were all mediocre.
It’s just… Zhou Jin snapped out of her long reverie, looking at the now incomplete Six Principles Chess board before her.
Playing chess required skill, but also luck. And this Sun Ce seemed to lack precisely those two words—luck…
Sun Ce picked up the scattered pieces from the board, pursing his lips: “Who said you have to be scattered pieces? Brother Yu, why can’t scattered pieces become xiao pieces?”
“Why not? If the xiao piece is incompetent, it’s natural for scattered pieces to proclaim themselves xiao pieces.” Zhou Jin naturally knew what Sun Ce was alluding to and elegantly curved her lips.
Sun Ce’s eyes lit up as he said with a beaming smile: “Then let’s continue, but the rules change to completely eliminating the opponent’s pieces to win!”
“…”
Sun Ce saw a flash of annoyance in the eyes of this youth who always acted like a little adult, finally feeling he showed some youthful appearance. Laughing, he reached over to ruffle his hair: “Don’t always keep such a stern face. Smiling a bit won’t make the sky fall.”
Zhou Jin stared at him blankly. The strength and warmth on her head were no different from what lay deep in her memory. If not for the increased self-control her training over these years had given her, she would probably burst into tears immediately.
Since her brother’s death, it had been so many, many years since anyone had treated her this way… Zhou Jin lowered her head, afraid the other party would see the tears welling in her eyes.
“Hey hey! I’m waiting for your move! You’re not going back on your word, are you?” Sun Ce couldn’t see the youth’s expression and felt somewhat anxious.
The corners of Zhou Jin’s lips curved upward as she raised her head again: “No, I won’t regret it…”