[Three Kingdoms 365 · Day 164] The One Who Does Not Lose — Zhou Yu wavers on the riverbank between admiring and distrusting Zhuge Liang

That same evening, Zhou Yu (周瑜) stood alone at the riverside. The sound of the water was as it had been in the morning. Only the color had shifted, from the silver of morning to the gold of evening.

In Zhou Yu's left hand rested a sword. The dragon design on the scabbard had taken on a deeper shade in the evening light. Upon the handle, the fingertip of his right hand had settled longer than yesterday.

Within the hollow of Zhou Yu's chest, two thoughts were rising by turn.

The first was acknowledgement. This morning, Kongming's (孔明) fan had pointed north above a signed sheet. Inside the line "the price of borrowing is paid by the giver," the dawn of three days hence had already been sketched. That signature held a depth no general of the six commanderies of Jiangdong (江東) could have set down. To keep that talent on Jiangdong's side was to double the weight of one wing in the battle of Red Cliffs (赤壁) that lay ahead.

The second was wariness. Today's ally might not be tomorrow's ally. Kongming, standing on the side of Liu Bei (劉備), might, after the fire of Red Cliffs had burned through, become a man standing across from Jiangdong in the world to come. The weight of that possibility was no lighter than the weight of the doubled wing.

Lu Su (魯肅) came along the riverside path. His footsteps reached Zhou Yu first. Lu Su stopped a pace beside him.

"Commander. Your seat this evening is by the river. Is the sound of the water perhaps washing, each in turn, the two thoughts of the Commander?"

Zhou Yu smiled slightly. The angle of the smile was low.

"Lu Sir. The two thoughts are not being washed; they are washing each other. This morning's acknowledgement of the depth of Kongming's signature, and the wariness of Kongming's seat yet to come. The two thoughts, this evening, are flowing side by side like the two banks of a river."

Lu Su was silent for a while. Deep worry settled upon his face. Then he brought out, quietly, a single line.

"Commander. Permit me one line. Kongming is today's ally. What comes later is the matter of later. Do not cloud, with today's suspicion, the seat of today's alliance before the fire of Red Cliffs has burned."

The fingertip of Zhou Yu's right hand moved quietly upon the handle of the sword. Yet he did not grip it. The movement of the fingertip adjusted the angle of the handle. Only that.

"Lu Sir. I shall entrust this evening's suspicion to the sound of the river's water until tomorrow's dawn. And until the day the battle of Red Cliffs ends, the suspicion will not move into action. The hand of a commander of Jiangdong will, from this evening until Red Cliffs, point in only one direction. That direction is the north, where Cao Cao (曹操) stands."

Lu Su bowed his head, deeply. The commander's line released, at once, one corner of Lu Su's worry.

The sound of the river's water kept flowing beneath the feet of the two men. The gold of evening was now passing into red. It was the hour when the sun touched the western horizon. Zhou Yu took a pace forward and gripped the handle of the sword more firmly. Yet the blade was still within the scabbard.

"Lu Sir. Not to lose is the stance of a commander of Jiangdong for today. Not to lose to Kongming, not to lose to Cao Cao, and, upon the board that stretches from today's seat to tomorrow, not to lose at any turn — that is the meaning of a commander's name, today."

Lu Su stood together with Zhou Yu. The two men watched the red of the river's evening together. At the far corner of the river, the distant dust of Cao Cao's naval forces was moving, a single point, inside the red. Zhou Yu's two eyes rested, quietly, upon that point.

This evening's resolve of the commander was "the resolve of one who does not lose." This morning's signature of Kongming and this evening's resolve of Zhou Yu lay, quietly, side by side inside the red of the river's evening.

The seventh evening of Book 6 was closing, quietly, upon the red of a river's evening. The fingertip of the commander settled again, quietly, upon the handle of the sword, this evening too. Inside that settling of the fingertip, a firm resolve reaching all the way to Red Cliffs was resting.

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