P̰̬̑̾̌ͣ̎̃ë͈̝͖͕̼͎̪́̊̎̅̉̚ȋ͍̳̬ ̘̤̠̥͇X̣̭͍͉̦̬̦u̱̼̠͗̇͛̐ͩ̆,̍ͬ̓͐ͧ̾ ̼̺ͫ̽͒͗͊Z͙ͤ̈ͦ̓h̰͙͑̑̌ͣ̚o̘n̬̹̙͗̐ͬ́̊̄g͉̫ ̪̭ͨH͉̩̼̫͍͈̹̀̂ͦͦ̓ͩu̬̫̝͑̾ͪ̌̓̓͆i̖̰̼̗̬̫̍̿͐̍̚,̭ͦͥ͆ͩ̑̾ͭ ͓͎̙̗͒̍̅̍̄̚w̱͉͉̜̤ͪ̊̄ẖ̣̭̘͎ͦ̔̐̋͂̾̓a̹͚̹̰̔t̒̌͒ͬ ͉̯ͭ̂ͩͩ̀̒s̙h̼̯̓͌͗̋͌͒ͭo̫͔̞̊ͣ̐̂ͤͥ̚ͅu̳̦̱̝̮̞͉̓̓͆͌l̳dͣ̌ͥ͐̔̿ ͙̱͎̲̱͚͉͋w͔͉̘̔̇̂ͤͅê ͯd̹̥̺͔ͮ̌o̮̲̫ͫ̈́̓ͮ̃̄ ̟̫̲̥͈̻̻ͤa̱̘ͨ͊ͮͫ͑ͭḅ͉̠̒͊o̯͉͖̘͇̦̅ͫ̒̓ͧu̜͗̐̿̂̔ṭ̬̮͎̤̞̻ͯ̍ͣ̓̊ͭ̏ ̘̘̺̭̞͚ͥ̐h̯̭ͭͬi̥̠ͩ̄ͪm̱̦̝͔̠̣͒ͩ͊ͩ?͙̜̥͈ͯ̾́̀̾
“Wu’s only in it for the money,” said Zhong Hui. “We can use that.”
Sima Zhao agreed, and after a hasty conference the generals were spread around to various ambush points. Chen Jun drew the short straw, so he was given a massive booty – dozens of cows, horses, and treasure chests. Sighing, he dragged them into the middle of the battlefield and piled them in a heap.
Zhuge Dan squinted at it. “That looks… disorganized. Attack them!”
He charged, and so did Zhu Yi and Wen Qin from either side. To their surprise, the enemy threw their hands up theatrically. “Oh no!” Screaming, the entire army turned and scurried away, leaving the booty fully exposed.
Zhuge Dan skidded to a halt. “That was weird…”
The Wu redshirts stared longingly at Chen Jun’s enormous booty.
“Guys,” said Zhuge Dan, but they were already breaking formation, desperate to get their hands on the booty.
As they reached for the shinies, the whole pile exploded in their face. Redshirts of all sizes were flung backwards through the air, and before the dazed men could pick themselves up, the Wei generals leapt from their hiding places and hit them from all sides.
Zhuge Dan barely made it back to Shouchun. The Wei army surrounded him, leaving Wu space to pull back a bit. Everyone settled down for a siege, and Cao Mao settled down in a nearby city, with plenty of popcorn courtesy of Sima Zhao. It was all blue cheese flavoured.
“Well, we won Round 1,” said Zhong Hui, “but Shouchun’s a good place for a siege. Strong walls, plenty of food. Plus, the Wu army’s right there, and they might come help him out.”
S̩̹͇̣̝̥̲ͪ͑͛̾̆͊o̩̖͕̫̻̖ͭ ̮̰̭̗̂̓̅̌ͦ̆̈wͥͣh͇̤̤̦ͣ̾́ͦ̂̎͒a̠͎͛̽̈̐̑ͨ͒t̟̳̝̲̪̱̔͛ͤ̈́̂ ̺̮̜̳ͯs̲̔͆ͤh̅o̳̦̥̰̪̜̺͋͊̄ͤ̇u̩̼͇̗̳̪ͯ̂l̝͍̖̤̼ͯ̉̂ḍ̟̼̾ͥ̑ w͉̤͛́̂̋ͣe͓̼̠̺ ̝d̩o̟̾̅̇̊̚?͓͔͋
“I think we should leave them a way out,” said Zhong Hui. “That way, they’ll be tempted to run away, and we can attack them on the road. Then we can send a smaller division to attack Wu from behind.”
Tentacles vibrated gently along Zhong Hui’s back.
E͈̜͇͉̬̊̉ͯ͗x͍̼͓̠̪̭̐ͫ̆̐̐c͓͔̞͂̿̂͌̓̒͠é͚̳̮̪̥̫̳l̯̪ͣl͖͓̩̆̏͋̑͐͝e̙̩̻͕͖̣͓ͤ̈́ͬ́̌͡n͕͈͓̫͑̉ͭt̵̟̝́͐̂̉ ͉̫̏̓͊i̤̤̫͙͍͉̽ͥͅḍ̫̣̩̺ͭ͊͐͐͐̌e̹̫̣̦̲͗͗a̟̦̰̙̝͖͍͝.̨̙͆
Soon, Wang Ji’s division moved away from the south side of Shouchun, leaving a tempting opening. Meanwhile the Wu army was getting bored and antsy.
“We need to help Shouchun,” said Sun Chen. “Not because I’m nice, but because we can’t exactly take over the world if we don’t get past Shouchun. Zhu Yi, go kick their ass or die in the attempt. If you lose, I’ll execute you. Motivation.”
“I’m highly motivated,” said Zhu Yi, and ran back to his camp to talk to General Yu Quan.
“The south side of the city’s open,” said Yu Quan. “Pretty big oversight on their part, if you ask me. How about I go in that way, sneak through the city, then burst out the gates on the other side and attack them? Meanwhile, you attack their north side. We’ll sandwich them.”
“That works,” said Zhu Yi. “You take Quan Yi and Quan Duan with you. Why are you all called Quan?”
“Maximum confusion,” said Yu Quan.
“Well, take Wen Qin too. Don’t let him navigate.”
The next day, the three Quans sauntered into the city, Wen Qin in tow, as the Wei soldiers looked on.
“Shouldn’t we stop them?” asked a redshirt.
“Nah,” said his commanding officer. “No one told us to stop anyone from going in, just coming out. It’s a siege.”
“Yeah, but if they have more soldiers, that’s probably bad.”
The officer shrugged. “No orders, not our problem.”
“Can I at least report it?”
“Go ahead,” yawned the officer.
Y͖̤̬̩͓͍̮̋o̩̎́̓̎͊u ͔͕͕j̤ͭ͑̅ṵ̻̦̪̰̣̟̀ͬ̿̆ͪ̚s̘̜̲̐̃ͩ̎t ̬͚̟͉͐̿͗ͯ̃͆ͥl̜̤͆̑̆e̳̙̖͓͋ͦ͊̉̎t͎̗͕ͥ̊̊͂ ̳ͩͯt͕͈̹ͬ̇̌̇h͖̞̜ͫ̓e͖̬̓͐ͥ̊m̺ ͉ͭ̑w͖͍̮̲̬̔̓̾ā͕͇̑̄ͣ͑͊͑ḽ̿̂̃̿͛͌ͨk̥̥̬͛̒ ͇͉͙͕͇ͧͬ̑̎ͤ̿ͩin̙̜͈̠̠͕̩ͯͯ̀̐ͪt͉̓̂̉͛o̮̭̱̻̽̿ͬ̆̌ͭ ͌t̖̰̪̪͇͍͊̈́ͅh͇̗̠͗̂̓ͭͥͧͭe̻̣̬̹͉͍ ̰̤̜̫́͊̾͐c͈̪͓͒̅͗̿i͙̻ͣ̍̏͒ͯ͌ͧt̯͎͍ͫͨͥ͂̔ͪ̓y̹̤̜̱̹͛ͣ?̙̺̣ ͔͕͐̏ͮS͓̘̱͚ͤṵ̮̞̳̻̤ͩͥr̪̠̟͐̓ḙ̟̬͙̳̤̋͌̏͛ḷ̘̳̳̹̂́ͥ͆̅̈́͋ͅy͖̜̘̜̞̟ͧ̚ ̊ͬ̿ṡ̘͍̤͙̮̿ͮ̏͑̓o̥̜̻̩̥̿̓m̠̲̮̱͐ͯͮe̪͕͖͐̽͋͛ ̰̬̻̪̻͇ͭ̐͛ͦ͗̎ͅtͬͯͬ̏h̄ͩͦì̙̺ͦͨn̟̓͊ͮͦ̉g̳̜͔̯͚̺͍̏ͭ͌̅̈́͐s͉̘͙̦̱̮͐̌ ̫̤̹̗̣͚̓̋̄̃̐g̗͖̭͎̜ͮ̌ͮ̅ͅo͕̖̱̮͈̟͕̾ͩ͂̃ͬ̎ͧ ̼͎̮̰͎̬̜w̩͕̬̎̉̾̽i̘ͣ̽̂̒͂ͫ͊t̝̟̹͍̘͖͍̍͂h̅̽̈̍̊͋ọ̺͂̄̐u̝̰̜͈̞̝̺ͥͥͯ͗ẗ̜̩͎̖́ͣ̔ͤͮ ͔̻̥̥̣͇̌ͩ͊ͤͅsā͔̻̜̫̗y̠̮͇͔̖̬̻̔̅̒î̝̱̭̹̥̜ͥ̌̾̚n̟̜̫̱ĝ̜̮̙̯̣̣ͧ̎̊͒͑.̦̭
The redshirt nodded apologetically.
W̹͖͔̐́̚eͅl̼͍̳̰̞̭͎l͇̽̐,̻̪̯̯̺͂͊ͦ n̮̪̹͖͋̀̓ͩ̓ō̖͔̪̣̺ͣt̳̩̠̏ ͒ͫ͛ͮ͊̃y̹̮̙͙̪ͨ̊̾͛̽o̲ͪu̬̻̹̰ͬ̌̈͛̓̓̉ȑ̝̩͙̖̘̳̿͑̃̂ ̯̬̣̲̖͍̩͐̉f̮̭͎̗̼̠̮̋ͭ̊̐ͥa̯ͥu͓͔̻͙̻ͣ̈́̂l̙̟̹͇̖͊ͧͅt̝̲̤͕̣͓̻̂͒̽.̭͋͋͋͌ͤ̃ ̫̘̝̬͎̱̘̊͆̈́̊͌̄T̰͎̗͎̹h͛̉͋̐́i̘̯͉͎ͨ͑̋̅ͪs̭̳̲͇ ̲ͤͦ͐̆̇̈ͨṃ̩̟̇͐ͯͨ̐eͦ̐̉̃ā̰̐͋͋͑ͮn̖̞͍ͅs̭̮̥̖̖̺̈̂ͨ̉͋̅́ ͎̭ͪͤ͂t̗̹̘̬̓̚h̳̫͙̆̐e͉͍̯̙̻̥̥y̯͓̆ͮ̔̈́ͧͨ’̹̹͌͗͂ͭ̾͒̊l̝̱̻̜̊ͥͭ̎̐͗l̻͇̗̜͔͚̰͋͋ͦ͌ͮ ̼͚͇͚̳̦͕â̰̫͊ͥͤ̈́̒t̏̈́̑tḁ͕̩̖c̟͚̬̯͖͐͛̏ͯͧͅͅk̼̤̩͔̠͈̫͂̈ͫ ̉̋́ͫù̥͕͔̲̝̩̣ͣͮ̄ͩ̋s̬̳̗͍̞̒̒ͮ̎ͦ̀̚ͅ ͕̺̓ͣ̎͐f͎͔͉͎̗̬̖̎̇͋r͓͂̇́̈́͂͑ȍ̫̰̘̦͐ͣͬ͋ͪ̿m͕̳̩̠̗̹͖͌ ̺̳̝̗͖b̤̣̲̀e̺̰̩ͦ̇͒̄h͓͍͕̳͙̆̿͗ͭ̊͒̾i̳̲͖̹ͬ͌͑ͥ̽̎ň̮̜̩̦̐̀̾̊d̒ͫ̐͊͆̌̓ ͉̬͖͖ͦ̾a̤̮͍̣̺͇͇̔̎̿̚̚s̻̝̚ ̭͎w̮͋̌̄ͭ̿ͣ̔ͅe͚̍l͍͔̮̏̏l̳̼̫̺͎͚ͥ͌ͅ.̤͈̩͈͊̇ͧ ̜͈̱̯̳̜̀̽̀ͅW̹̙̥͓͇̌a͓̥̠̽̈́ͨ̽ͩ̚n̺͔̣̦̝͉̩̍̂͐ǧ͎̯̲͒̌̓ ̘J̜̭̜̹̝̣͊̐̋̑̄̿̀i̯̪̞̤͌ͧ͛̎ͭ̂͊,̲̙̝͇̝͈̃ͪ̑ͨ ̿͊̑̓ͩ̆ͨC̥͍̙̬̟ͣh̰͙̭̘͊̅ͨͪ̾ě̙͈̤͎͕͉͖͗̄̑ͣ͗̌n̊ͬ̐ͪ̉͌ͥ ̘̦Q̯̝͂ͤi̗͑͋̄̐̓̓ͧȁ͎̟̬̜ͦͅn̥̹̞͚̹̭͔ͦ̋͂͊,̊̋ͦ ̹̼͔̮̘̼ͦ̌͊̈́̒̓ͧt͖̤̥̹̙̗ͫ̂̃͋̓ͩa̪̠͖͕̿ͥ̍k̟͖̯̠̱̈̿ͯ̊̇̌ͅe͖̱̳ͯ̉̈́ ͕̺̪̦̪̣̓͂ͅs̰o̯̱̹̿̇m͇͖̔ͣ̾ͩe̻̟̜ͨ͐̈́ ͕̦̥̤͖̙̐ͩ̾̈s̠̦̯̈ͪ̑ͤ̾̌o̗̱͉̗͐̊̇͆ͫͣͯl̍d̺̗̠ͅi̫͇̇͋ͧ̓ē̮͖̆ͥ̑̚r̙̼͙̰͖̬s͍̺̗̫ͭͩ̾̋ ̊͗a̺͓̰̭̘̽̒̇n͈͕̺̪̼̣̗̋d̥̥͎͖͙̣͚̾̇ͣ̅͛͌ͭ ͔̱͉͆̃ͫ̀̂̓ͬg̳̮̘͎͕̖͊̏̊̾͌̏e̩̞̮͌̐ͤ͊ṫ͑̉͗ ̜̆r̼̝ē̹̲̈́́̄ͅḁ̭̞̠̉̅ͪͫd̒̐̽ẙ̟͈͈̳̀̋ͭ ̍̈́ͭ̄f͍̲͉͈̃̀ͤo̞̻̥͓͍̩ͯͅr̖͆̐̒̉̈ ͓̘̖̤̆ͪ͐̌ͤ͂Z͍̹̙̏͆̇̉̃h͔̣͇ͭͩͣ̈ͤ͂u͚̝̮͍̗̖̻ ̲̗̳̰̺̪̌̋̆̓̾ͤ͐Y̠͖̙̣̪̍i̹̠͈͉̞ͬ͗ͪ͂ͫ.̏̆̋
Zhu Yi was still miles from the city when Wang Ji and Chen Qian hit. He was totally unprepared. After a thorough ass-whooping, he came running back to camp, only to face a furious Sun Chen.
“You had one job! Executioners…”
As Zhu Yi’s head rolled on the ground, Sun Chen turned to Quan Duan’s kid I and jabbed a finger in I’s face. “Your – yes, your dad is on thin fucking ice right now. I’m going home. Get rid of Wei, or don’t bother coming to find me.”
He packed up and left for Jianyi, leaving I staring.
Zhong Hui looked at Quan I’s halfhearted assault in amusement. “Yeah, we’ve pretty much got this. Time to attack Shouchun.”
I made fighting motions for a few more minutes, then gave up. “I surrender!”
̰̦̬͎͔̿͆̏̔̉E̠̳̬ͨ̒ͅx͈͇̞̔̈́ͫcͬ̑̃ͭ̚e̫l̬̼̗͚̺̙̈́̌̓͌l̝̳̓̾ͤ̑ͪe̬̺͔͎̦̿͊͌ṅ͎̼̦̰̝̬̅ͬ̆̉t͔̠͉̖͈̎̆̆̚ͅ.͔͍̯̮̼̂̎͋̇̎ͯÍ̱̐̂̿̊̐ͬ’͍̠̳̘͍̙͈l̩̖͍ͪ͌l̟̺̯̤̺ͩ̄͆ ̺̝ḿ̭̠̩̾̈́̈ả̮̫̘̞̟̯͈͌̐ḵ̯̗̬̖̋ͭe ̲͈y͚̻͇͉͋ͯͯ̀ͪ̀ͫŏ͈̖͖͛̑̇u͒ ̦̖̞̘̲̎ͫ̆̐ͦ̈́a̭̟̪̤͖ͥͭ̓̿ ̹̝̜͉͒̑̂̐g͔̠̻̠̣͒̓͊̊e͚̠͈̙̗͇̭̓ͫ̓ͣ̍n̪͇͍̬̯̖ͫͭ͒̀̇e͖̥̦͊̄ͥr̲͊ͫͅa͈̼͚ͦl̪̙̰̠͕͖̟.̺̳̀ͤ͋͌̍̏ ̬͙̫̳̻”͔͓̞̬G͈͊ͪ́̔e̥ͨ͌ͦ͆̐nͫe̟̘̅ͥͤͨr̄a̫͉̻ͅlͯ ̥͚̲̠̗̦̺̌͌ͦ͗͗̔I”̳͈͕̻̺̠̓ ̦̳͔̱̙̥̬̊́̃̿ͮͯh̝͙̼͖̗̦̺͗a͇̰̣̬̤̮̥ͯs̮͙̆͆̓ͥ̇̆͊ ͙͓̠̜̤̫ͩ̃̽ͅā̦ ̭̺̞͆͊̄̿ͯ̐n͍̰̳͚̂ͯǐ͎̣ͦͬͩͦc̳͎͓̺̖̥è ͕̮͕͖r͓̯͗ͫ̓̽̚ȉ̭̑ͤ̊̿͆ͣn̩͎̰̱͕̩ͫ̓g͖̬̤̭̗̒̉̚ ̩̘͓̰̮͇͑ͣͥ̔ṱ̬̫̹ȯ̱͇͂ ͎͚̠̤̪͐̇i̠t̮̩͎̝̰̥̬ͮͤ.̄
“I really appreciate it,” said I. “How about I write to I’s father? I might be able to convince him to join you, the way I did.”
I̤̠̞s̝̺̗͓̜̉ͭ̈ͪ ͇̭ͮ͑I̘͈ͪ͑͛͑ͬ̋ ̮̌̎̂̽͋̌tͯh͇̹͒̂̀̌̉̚e̩̫̩̪͕̳̯ͤ̎̎ ̤͔͍ͮo̫̔ͪ̓ͯ̏n͇͈͈̱̖̙͙lͭyͭͧ̄ͤ͑̃ ̳̈́̈̉̉ͦ̈̐p̏r̳̝̘̙̠̩̄o͓ͅn͇̼̖̥͖̓̾̒o̺̖̪͆̿ͦͅû̌͊ͯͭͬͪṇ͈͐̊̆̀̒ͦ ͙̖͉͇̼͑̒̓ͩ̈́ͮͣẏ͔͙̜̲̠̩̥͆o̯̹͓ͤu̯͈̖̙̫̝͋̈̓̔ ̰̳͕̯̯̩̓ͤ̇͊u̱͌̾s̪̘̝̰̉̓̉e̗ͨͫͯͫ̇?̖̳͈̺̙̝̱̄ͨͧ
“Yup, it’s just I,” said I.
C̬͇̎ͫͬ̉̐ͣo̞̐ͨ̆̇̅͒o̿̈́͗̚l̮͉͖̮̺͌̽͊ͭ̚.̳̅̎̿ͥͤ ̫̬̫̠̱̱̙̿ͦ̍ͪ͐̓̽G̗̝ͤ̍̿̑̓̚o̲͉͍͙̬̗̓̀ ̙͕̰͖̦̄̒́ͫa͇͇̲̥̝ͧ̋h̤̣̞̰̿ͥ͗e͙̹̱̬͆̑͋͒̇̏ā͖̜͕͚̰͉̊͊d̘̥ͩ ̂̔̋ͩ̍͂̇a̓ͩ̋n̼̻̖ͧ̾ͫ̂͆d̲̘͓ͣͨͧ͛̆ͧ ̠̘w̰̤ͩ͑̿͆̓r̼ͦ̑ì̞͚̦̹̖̫͇͛̋̃t̺̜̹̮̙̭̋̍ḛ̯̩̖͉͔̼̍̽̈́ͮ ̤̞͗ͥͮ̅ͦͭt͙̙͔o̦͈̫̝̣͔̺̓͑́ͯͨ ͥ̒I͍͈̫ͨ́’̻̋̍̂ͬs̏ͨ̅ ͙̹͔̙̭̈͗ͤ͒̎d̅̿̆͛a͖̽ͬ̿̅́̿͗d͖̟̄̓̇̒.̠͎͔̓͛ͫ͌ͬ̄
I immediately wrote a letter about how awesome Sima Zhao was and fired it over the walls, where it landed inches from Quan Yi’s face.
I’s uncle opened it and gasped. “I surrendered!”
“You did what?” asked Quan Duan anxiously.
“No, I surrendered – look, I wrote you a letter.” Quan Yi held it out.
“You could have just told me… oh.” Quan Duan skimmed the letter.
Sima Zhao’s really great, Dad! He might look a little weird, but he’s super cool and made I a general. You should join him.
“I’s right,” said Quan Duan. “We should surrender.”
The next day, the Quans led their armies out of the city and formally surrendered, leaving Zhuge Dan to alternatively punch walls and cry his eyes out.
“Boss?” said Jiang Ban and Jiao Yi, two of his advisors. “We don’t have a lot of food left. We should gamble on one big fight, before it runs out.”
“I have zero intention of fighting,” said Zhuge Dan. “I’m going for the ‘longest last stand’ record. Get lost, and if I hear even one more peep out of you, you’re dead.”
The advisors scurried away, and when they were out of sight, shook their heads and tapped their foreheads. “No reasoning with him any more. We’d better get out while we have a chance.” That night, they made a bedsheet rope and slipped over the walls to Sima Zhao’s camp, where they were immediately given jobs. No one else in the city dared to argue with Zhuge Dan after that.
Normally, the Huai River flooded every autumn, but this year was too dry.
“I was banking on a flood,” said Zhuge Dan, biting his nails. “Doesn’t matter. We stay here.” At this point, all of the food was gone, and the soldiers were starving. Many collapsed at their posts.
“We can’t keep doing this,” said Wen Qin. “Maybe we should downsize? Lay off some of the soldiers?
“Are you trying to get me killed?” screamed Zhuge Dan. “Guards! Kill this man!”
Before his sons Yang and Hu could do anything, Wen Qin was dead. The boys went berserk. Wen Yang grabbed his steel whip, Hu pulled out a sword, and both ran through the city killing every redshirt who crossed their path. Heedless of cries like “Huh?” and “What did we do?” they crisscrossed the city multiple times, slaughtering dozens before anyone could get organized enough to stop them.
When they were finally encircled with spears, Wen Yang grabbed his brother around the waist and spun his whip. Both rose into the air under the humming propeller, and a favourable wind carried them over the walls and into Sima Zhao’s camp, where they surrendered at once.
Ö̥̹̻̤͈̠́̽͌ͫh̉,͙̺̖̪̍ͣ ̼͖͈̫͓ͦ̋̆t̮̙̥ḧ͇ͦ̃̽͑ͮà̗̘̰͙͕͆ͥ͂̽̒ͅt̠̺̂ͪ̆ ̪̩͈͙̘̯̜ͧg̳͍̃̔͆u̯̼̗̬̦̒͐y̥̘̫͓͍̹̥ͯ̋̏?̩͙̟͍̐̊̓ ̩̱̳͕̹̝͌ͅI̙̹̱͈̠̬ ̻̦̟̲͕͖̥̂͊ș̮̞̪ͭͮh͓̩̀͐̾ͤͨ̄̈́ŏ̠̟̒ŭ̳̱̼̺̰̪͍ͧl͓̲̪̦̼ͬ̊̄̾ͨd̦̪̪̙̩̭̼͆ ̮͕͙̼ͫ̏̀ͯ͊k̗̗̘̟̻̮̹i̞͒̅́l̪̳̓̎l̞̝̯̄̿ ͩ̂̒͆̈̅h̼̮̩͇ͤ͂i̞̜͇̫̤̪̘̐͆̽ͯͦ̃m͙͍ ̫͖̞̭̻̙̅̎̑͊̏ͩ̅ͅȃ͍͙͖̦̞̞̩̅̔f̬͊ͭ̓ț̠̮̖̗̤̖ͪͬe̮̝͈͉̖ͫr̩ ̱͓̫͎͎̊͊͒̉ͫͣw͕ͯͬ̾ͣ͊ͮ̚h̗͍̫̭͉̪ͫa͑͂t̋ ͕̙̪̑̄̅h͇̲ͩ̿ͫ͂͑ͅe̘͉̝̱͓͊͊ͧͥ̃̔̐ ̒ͤd̮̯̽̇̓̀ͯ͒ͯi̝͍͚̠͆̍d̰̩͖͚̖ ̃̚l̯͎̲͗̅a͈͇̳̳̙͈͍͊̉̃̍͂š̞͕̤̻̜͈͑̽̎̐̂ͅt̻̜̜̞̪ ̗͎͙̟͇ͤͫt̮́̇̑ͤ̃́ͅï̟͕͉̩̹͖̈́̏̂̍mͮ̅̒e͙͓̞͈.̣͑̈́̾͆̒
“No, don’t do that,” said Zhong Hui. “It was really his dad, last time.”
Íͮ̎ͬ ̱͉͈͕ͤͮs̻̠̒͌̂e̱̥̰̥̙̒̌̂̐̊̍e̥͎͎̠̤̊̍͊ͪm̩̮̼͇͈ͦ̽̆̇̚ͅ ̊͛̈́͗̆̓̾t͈̰̱̬o̺̮ͤͭ ̞͖͔̼̙̞r̝̫̜̉͗̒̒̐e͇̥ͦ̿̏̐ͫ̂c̩̦̲̼̳ͫ̃a͔̫̞̗̟̚l̳̝̭̯̪͈ͫͧ͗̋ḻ͋ͥ̈ ̅̂̄ͯ͛t͔̬̘̳͗͆h̯͍̬̘͇̏̿á̬̬̈͒ͦ̍̐ͅṱͦ̽̌ ̯̳̱̦̝̓ḥ̖͔ͤ̍ͬ̌̏ȋ̟̼̝̓̿̄s̳̦̳̰͔͈̜ ͈̐ͬ̋̿ͯͬd̗̱̰͖̻̊ͪ̎́ͯä͇̭̙̻̂ͅd̹͖̪̬̞̆̈́̈́̑ ͇̖͑j̠̰͖̍ͨͧ̋u̙̤ͩ̄̀̍̃ͧsͩͨ̍͊͊͛t͕̍̔̑̏ ̬̪͉̺̖͛ͨ͋ͯg̬̳͙̠̅ͣ̆͋̆͗ͅoṭ̯ͯ ̪͈̰̟̿ͮ̊ͅl̾ͪ̓̓̄ͩ̓o͇̦̻ͅs̪͖͓̟͑ͣt̏̈́̚ ̩̉i̯͔͚̜n̑̒̉̿̽ͣ̆ ̆̽ͨt̻̾h̗ͯ̒̌e͖̪͓̫̥ͬ̎ͣ̌̍ ̮̝̹̤̦̿ͩ̾ͅh̟̖i̺ͪͣl͉͐ͦ̍l̗̻̝̪̑s͔̲̥̺ͤ̆ͣ̓ͪ̐̓ ̞͛ͪ̓w͖̦̞͇̆h̞̱͆̋͆̌ī̑͌l̳̯͐̆͋̂e͓͔̰̞̩̙ͧ͐̿ ͨ̍̃ͯ͛̔ͤh͉̿ͭͅe̮͉̼̯̪̿ͅ ̦͕̻̞̗͈̈́̿ͫ͌ͧͦs͈͍̤̮ͅh̦ͪ̔r͉̍̒ͯ̏̂̾̂e̥̽d̙̙̩̍̉͋́̍ͨ̓d̠͙̟͇͇͋̈ͤ̓̈́̚ẹ̞͈̲̄ͦ̆d̥̝̄ͮ̊̐ͅ ̯̫̘͑͋̑̽̒͑̅a̪̯̬͕͓ͦ͒̈̔̊͑̾ ̗ͮͤ̀̾͛̿h̅u̝̦̲̭͛ͭ́̽n̞͎͈͍͖̲̦̑ͪ̔ͨd̗ͫ̐̏ͯ͛ͨ͐r̝̘̟͎ͧ͗̅e̬̲̟̖̫͗̒ͦͅd̜̠̖̦͓̥̓̒̑̊͂ͤ ͓̼̙̠ͥͪ̿ô͇̹͚̝ͭ̐f̘̽̄ͣ ̼̰̜̜͋̅̌͗ò͕̩̬̹̹̿u̫̼̥͕͖ͣ̌ṙ͔̰͍̭̥̮͋̃ ̭̭ͤ̆̒͗g̯̝̳͇̗ͅe̱͕ͪͯn̠̭̣͙̆e̯̼ͯ̀r̟̫̳͍̿a̗͎̗ͥ͊̋l̩͇̜̯̐ṣ̘͙͍̞ͧ͐̔̉ ͔͔̖͇̎̃͐̐̃ͩ̚w͖̠̒̆ͧ̊ͬ̊ͩï͚̮̪ͩͫ͒ͣt͚͕h͙͉̩̰̼͔ͦ͑̇͗ ̼͊͊͑̽t̖̅́h̹͌̊aͯ̑̋t͚͍̄ ͖͔̖̼̩̆w̙͈ͦͮ̍h͔̲̥͙̳͈̱̐̍̈͆͑i̪̰͉̗̳͖̯̔̃̐͛ͨp̓.̟̜̑ͮ̓ͤ͊͛
“Well yeah,” said Zhong Hui. “But if you kill him when he surrenders, who else is going to surrender?”
F̺͎̹̦͛̆â̺ͧͬ̊͐i̘̬͚̭̳͙ͩ̋̾̾͑͐r̬̦͔̼̀͐̀̎͒ͭ̈́ ͚̭͔ͣp̺̏́ͭ̀̋̃o͍̦̗̜̟̩̠ͤi̘̰̯̼̬͒ͥn͕ͭt̹̣͚͈̹̙̅.̄͒ͬ ̇ͮ̽̏̒̈́̾H͛̎̿̉̌ͪ̾î̮̫̊ͩ̄ͤͅr͚̲̠͔͗̓͒̾̊̍ẹͨͭ ̥̱̘̬͈͇́̋̎̉͂t̓ͬͪ̍̒h̠͚ë̲̯̮̈́̾͆ͮ̔m̯̬͈̫̿.̦ͨ̍
He called the two Wens into his tent, and gave them some nice titles and horses. They instantly got on the horses and rode back to the city. Luckily for them, the guards at the gate must have slept through their earlier rampage.
As soon as the gate was open, the Wens charged into the city and rode through the streets, hollering “Sima Zhao is awesome!” at the top of their lungs before breaking out through the back door.
Everyone who was still with Zhuge Dan glanced at each other. The brothers made good arguments, and Zhuge Dan was getting meaner by the day. Plus, there was still no food…
“Don’t even think of surrendering!” said Zhuge Dan. “You there! You look like you’re thinking of surrendering.” He stabbed the hapless redshirt, then turned to the others. “Watch the walls. Don’t let anyone go over.” He himself paced around the walls, night and day, stabbing everyone who, in his opinion, was thinking about surrendering.
Naturally, that convinced the last few holdouts. The commander of the north gate flung it open, and in poured the Wei forces, led by Wang Ji. The city had fallen.
Zhuge Dan made a break for it, but got killed as he crossed the bridge. Wang Ji fought his way across the city, where he finally met resistance in the shape of Yu Quan, the last remaining Wu general.
“Are you going to surrender too?” he called, hopefully. “There’s a nice job waiting for you in Wei.”
“And give up on a death scene opportunity like this?” cried Yu Quan. “Never!” He took off his helmet, threw it at Wang Ji’s head, and charged into the redshirts’ spearpoints. The judges awarded him a solid middling score of 5.6.
When the city was quiet, Sima Zhao himself finally lumbered in.
K͉̱̗̲͕̒̿̊̔̀i̝̺̫̺ͯ̐̎̒̑͒l̩̯̗͉̫ͦͅl̪͗̈́ͯͬ ̤̟̖̠̻ͫ͌ͅt̝̻̟͓ͭ͛̾̉̅͊͐ͅhẽ̫̻̻͉̱̻͔ ̯͓͐Z̳h͚͖͉̳͈̦̣̏͗ͫ̏̚u̠̺̩͕̗̘̫͑̅g̟̤͉ͨ̇̑ͯ̅ͅë̜̜̬̖͔s̋̿ͭͭͧ̇̄!͕̗̗̰͇͋̄̑̇͊̊̌
As Zhuge Dan’s family were hauled off and massacred, he turned to their guards.
Y͉̐̀o̱̯u̜̟̺̮̬ͅ ̲̙͖͕̑͗̆̿͐g̹͇͈͓̓ͮ̐̐͊ͨu̩̳̰̭͎̘̇̎y̳͎͎̍̈͐̐̃š͖̥̯͒̌͒͗̓ͅ ͛̂ͭ̈́͋̉́c͙̲̝̦̜̟͇̉͑̔͑ͩ̎̊ǎ̞͗͛̅̈̃ṉ̙͚͕͙̮̳ ̮̬̳͕̂̒ẖ̻̂̂͌́a͈̙͉̝͆͐v̩̩̍͛̐e̙̤̬͑̇̏͛͐̏ͤ ̙͉͙͑ͫa̼̙̺̳ ̦̻̈͒͆̇j̠̯̄̇ͥ̊̄ͨ̚ö̲̰̱̞̞̦́͑b̙̫̯͚̣̄ͧͦͯͅ,̪̳̟̦̘̜̲̀̿̀̔̇ͭ ̰̩̿̄t̊̏̑ͩ͒h̘̮̩̗̭̜͓ͤ̋̏̊͊̚o͓̭͈̣̲̘ͩ͛̔̓̚ͅü̱͔̫̪͚̘̈ͯͩ̀g̪̭͈̫͎͕ͮͮͅḧ̗̩̠̻̰͉̱͋ͣ̅̀.ͯ
“Nah,” said the guards. “We’d rather die along with the Zhuges.”
Ä̼̺͛r̬͒e̩ ͖̙̉̋͋̔͑͛y̺̬͇̳̬̙̰̔ͣ͋ͭo̲̦͚̼ṷ̈͋͐͂̑ͨ ̾̌̄ͪ̀s̽́̈́ͪ̐͒ū̞̘̱͔̟̬ͯr̭̠ͣḙ̰̠̬̰͊̿̐ͅ?̥̫ͩ́̏͐͐
All the guards nodded.
P̳̲̭̻͚̈́̀ͯ̈́ͥo̥̠͚ͩ̚š̰ͩͦ͒ͭͭi̱͓̹̺̰̣̹̿̉ͥͨ̉ͫͫṫ͎̬̺̰̪͎̌ͅi̐ͧ̃̊͛ͤv̝̺͌̍ͯͩ̈́e̹̻͂̉ͯ͛͗̈?̱͆ͭͥ̌͑̌͒
Sima Zhao raised a sword, then hesitated.
S͎̻͖̘̋̔̇̂̈̑e̞̘̿̐r̖̬̹̃ͫ̋ͭi̬̟̙̅o̺̟̟̮͉̫̓ͣ̓̑͑u̼̇̔ͤ̑s̟̰̱ͧl̠̈y̟̤̟̖̘͎̑̂?̣̪͈͙͗ͦ ̫̦̦͗ͮ̾̐ͭI̟͇͙̜̍ͅ ͇̺̯͉̄d̥̘͚̗̲̺ͩͮͣͦͪo̯͕͍̜̮̹͍ͦ͂̿͗͗ͥ̒n̙̩̗͈͎͈̆͑͒̓’̦͖̩̽̇͊ͅt͍͚̫̪̳̐ ̮͓̖̍̒w̰̯̜̳̫ͩͭǎ̖̞̹̀nt̪̙̯̱̦͎ ̾t̫͓ͦ͌̓ͩ̂̌̎o͇̺̤̞ͧ̿ͤͅ ǩ͓̝̝͌͒̀̾̏ͫi̲̬͋l̰͖̤͛͋̈́ͪl͇͎ͦͭ̽ͧ ͕̬͕̲̄͑ͦy͚̦͎̓̽ͮͣͫ̈́̽ͅo͚̒̽͛̎û͑͗̌̈́ ͖̬̱̉̌g̜̝̎ͮ̿̽ú̝̺̻͍́̎̋̇͒ÿ͖̘̪̥͈̝̟́̔̓ș ̥̮͉͔͚̪̘i͌f̬̹̗̎ͧ ̱̪̬̟̼̄̔I͒̈́̿ d́ͬ͂̆o͆̋̃̄͒̓͒n̮͕͎̞̩̑ͤ̒̊̽’̻̩̪̝̥͚ͩ̌t̪ ̭̲̖͖͚͙̩ͬ̐͋ͩͭh̯͓̜̮̘̼͑̈́ͥ̽ͅå͙͈̖̩̞̬͑̌̓ͮ͑̚veͭͬ̓ ̠̉̌ͬͯͯ̂t͎͖̺̥͇͈o̗̳̙̠̪̫͊̃͗ͅ.̲̦̙̣̐
“Just do it already,” said the head guard, bending over helpfully.
W͕͍̣̰͈̖̃̉̈̉͆͗ͥel͖̗̗̝̐͛͊̋ͫ̂ͅl̺̟̖̹̠̗̄ͮ͐ͣ̾,̻͓͕̜̮͇͒͌ͧͫ̚ͅ ̹ͦi̮̹̓̌f͖̼̫̝̟͇̾͑̔ͅ ̞y͇̥̤̿ͭ͆̈̽ͅo̤̥̦̣͈͔͌ͦ͊u͍ͨ̍̎̍ ̫̜͙͇͍ͬ͆͛ͧḯ̭̝ͥn̝̟̅̃ͫͦs͓͈̈́̈i̠ͣ̆̄̚s͖̯̬̞̪̉͋͊̔ͥ̚t̜̬̏.̥̣̬̩̪ͨ
“Move over, Yu Quan,” said the judges, impressed.
After Sima Zhao finished burying the guards, Pei Xu tapped what he hoped was his boss’ shoulder. “We should kill all of the soldiers, honestly. They’re from Wu, and still have family there. We can’t trust them.”
“Don’t listen to him!” said Zhong Hui. “That would be a real dick move. If we can’t trust them, then just let them go home.”
Y̩̥̘̠̱͚̿̇̊̾ͧē̲͖̖̹̪̓͒ͦa̟̟ͨ̐̐̅h̖̦̪ͮ̽̃͑,͚̪̯͔ͪ̈́͛ ͍ͤ̀͂͆P̯͓̼ͪ̇̏ͨͧ̒̒ê̇͌̆̏ͣỉ̮̰͔̃͛ͩͫ ̼̘̰͕̼͊̾͆Xͫͯ͌ͮ̏ͥ̿u̬̠̫̙̩̦̞̾ͬ̾,̽͊ ̭͕̼̱̿͋ͫͫ͑ͮͯw̯͈̖̬͓̳̭͐ͤh̗̝͇̗̎ͤý͈̂͌ ͉͉͕̱̓̂̆a̬͌͋ͣ͆ͬ͒̔ṛ̙̐̚eͯ̊̎ͦͬ̚ ̻̩̱͕͌̔̎̃ͬ́y̙̻̫͇ͥ̀o̫̬̫͓̥̖ͤ́ͨ̀u̞̩̤̦͓̜͕̅ ̻͚̯ͤb̘̹̫̠̺e̫͓̓̃̀͂̑̿i̩̯̦͖̣̠ͭ͋͒͐̃n͖̮g̘̬̫̣̉͐͊͂̋̓̏ ̲̰̭͙͉̣ͣͨ̑̋͛͆̂ͅsu̘̞̺͔̼̐̽͒ͮ̄͗ͣc͍̟̘̟̮̍͋͗͊̆hͮ̽̉ͫ ̺͇͓̭̠̇̂̓͛͐̓͌a̭͇͎̝ͭ̓͛ͅ ͒ͧ̚d̲̦͍̗͇̽i̪͉͙͚̼̓̔ͦ͒c͖͔̭̗̬̄̋ͥ͐̀́ḵ͉̰̒̿ͨ?̖͓͚̪̻̦͒ͣ̾̉̉̂ ̬̲̘̗͙̈́͊̌ͤ͑̍Ọ̜ͬ̏ͬ̇͛̓f̦͍͍̗̔ͭ ̳̼͉̯̻̺͎͌̑ͩ̍̊͐ć̉ͩ̓ͩo̻͍͖͈̻͊͂̄ͫ͐u̙̯͚̩͇ͫͯ̆̿ͯ͛̉r̼̩͎̥͔̯̂̈́̽ͧ̑ͣs̽ͣͥͩ̒͛ē ͓͚͔͖͚͚͔t̙̳̠ͪ̓͌ͪh͈̲̥ͬe̲̤̘͖̦͎y͚ͮ̍ ͒̀ͨ̐c̳̙̳̙̱̪̋̆a̦̥͌͐̈́̍n͓͚̩̭͙̰̝̒̑ͭͣ͋ͣ̒ ͓̃̑̀̽͛̋g̹̫̞ͦ̿̂ͦo̠̔̚ͅ ͖̫ͦ́̋h̞̦̘̠̼ͅo̹̹͙̝̊mͯ̒̋ͬ̋ͣe̤̺.̗̥̘̞̖͐̏͒̿̋ͦ
That turned out to be the right choice, as quite a few Wu soldiers and a general, Tang Zi, decided to take their chances in Wei rather than go back to Sun Chen. All in all, Sima Zhao considered it a good year’s work. He returned home to the capital, sighed, and put his feet up – when there was a knock at the door.
“Jiang Wei’s attacking!”
A̟͔͇̽̾g͚̯̥̩ͤa̲̙̤͍̤̠ͥ̂͊̍ͅi͓͖̠̟̪͕̮͑ͩ̎̓̔n̗̱͙̙̱̫̒͆̿͗̃ͩ?̳͒͆̔ͮ
In Shu, the era was Bright and Shiny, and Jian Wei was doing warm-up stretches. He’d found a couple of new generals, Fu Qian and Jiang Shu, and loved both of them very much. They were training up the army, and Sima Zhao had gone off to deal with Zhuge Dan. Life was good.
“Your Majesty! I want to attack Wei!”
Liu Shan was partying, as he usually was these days. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Qiao Zhou facepalmed in the background. “The Emperor does nothing but party, while Jiang Wei wastes all our resources on stupid wars. This is how states fail.” He went home and wrote a carefully-worded letter, which he sent to Jiang Wei.
If we keep running our country into the ground, it doesn’t matter how “strong” we are. Open a history book once in a while. It might be “boring” to worry about the economy and “glorious” to fight wars all the time, but that kind of thinking is what makes countries fall apart.
Hard work and discipline are the keys to success. We need to build up a solid base, and that requires being nice to the commoners and not picking another fight every thirty seconds.
We’re lucky that they haven’t invaded us in return already. Please stop poking the bear.
Jiang Wei crumpled the letter, threw it in the trash, set the trash can on fire, peed on it, then drop-kicked the whole thing out the window. “Fuck that. Fu Qian, where do you want to attack?”
“How about Changcheng? We can burn their grain stores.”
“You read my mind,” grinned Jiang Wei. “Let’s go.”
Sima Zhao’s cousin Wang was in charge of Changcheng, which was indeed stuffed full of grain. The walls also weren’t very thick.
“Come to think of it, it might have been a bad idea to put this site so near the border,” mused Sima Wang. “Well, there’s no help for it now. Wang Zhen! Li Peng! Let’s go meet them outside. Hopefully we can keep them away from the grain.”
Jiang Wei rode out in front of the army and yelled, “Sima Zhao took his Emperor to war! That’s super dangerous.”
“Why do you care?” Sima Wang called back.
“Because it’s a great excuse to fight you!” answered Jiang Wei. “Surrender now, before I have to kill all of you.”
“Fuck off,” said Sima Wang. “We’re getting mighty sick of your constant invasions. Better leave now if you want to get home in one piece, or even several.”
As he spoke, Wang Zhen rode out, his long spear ready to thrust. Fu Qian came out to meet him, and the two champions went at it good and hard. After a few blows, Fu Qian pulled out, and General Wang thrust at the opening –
The narrator gave both of them a warning look.
The champions sheepishly went back to fighting. Fu Qian ducked that last swing, then knocked Wang Zhen off balance. Before he could recover, Fu Qian had him out of the saddle and slung across his horse.
Li Peng raced forward to the rescue, so Fu Qian jettisoned his prisoner and drew his sidearm, which was a giant cube. Gripping it tightly, he bashed Li Peng in the face. The blow sent an eye flying across the battlefield, and Li Peng dropped dead on the spot, landing next to the body of Wang Zhen, who had already been cut to pieces by the redshirts.
Sima Wang hastily pulled the rest of the army back to the city, and Shu moved up to the gates.
“Take a break, redshirts! Tomorrow we fight,” said Jiang Wei. And fight they did. First it was fire-arrows and bombs, and the buildings on the wall were soon in flames. Next, they piled newspapers around the wall, soaked them in kerosene, and lit them up. The flames were visible for miles, and inside the walls, the defenders screamed and panicked.
As Jiang Wei watched, cackling, a drumroll thundered behind him. He whirled around. It was another Wei army, one that he hadn’t known was there. Their leader, a handsome young man with perfect foundation and fiery red lipstick, rode out in front of the rest.
“I’m General Deng. How about you pick on someone your own size!”
“So this is Deng Ai. He’s younger and hotter than I thought,” said Jiang Wei. “This could be interesting. I’m doing this personally.”
He rode out, spear in hand, and fought almost fifty rounds with the boy. They were evenly matched, and neither of them made the slightest slip.
“This is going nowhere,” decided Jiang Wei. “Time for dirty tricks.” He turned and ran off into the hills, and General Deng chased after him, spear in hand. But Jiang Wei put his own spear down, grabbed his bow, and fired his best arrow straight at his opponent.
Deng ducked.
“Oh. Shit,” said Jiang Wei, as the spearpoint got closer and closer. Everything was suddenly in slow motion, so he took advantage of that and grabbed the shaft of the spear.
“You’re really no fun,” said the youth, disgusted, and headed back to his own side.
“Lame!” called Jiang Wei, and rode after him – but as he got close, another warrior rode out of the Wei lines.
“Hey Jiang Wei! Stop fighting my son and fight me instead.”
“That was Zhong?” said Jiang Wei, astonished.
“Of course it was Zhong,” said Deng Ai. “He’s a kid. I have an adult son. Did you seriously mistake him for me?”
“Maybe?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. I think,” said Deng Ai. “Now come on, let’s have our leader-on-leader showdown.”
“Uh, my horse is too tired,” said Jiang Wei, backing away.
“Fair enough. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s fine.”
Both generals rode off and set up camp. Deng Ai immediately scribbled a letter to Sima Wang, who had taken advantage of the distraction to put out the fires.
Just wait for them to run out of food as usual. I’ll send Zhong to help you in the city. More help is on the way.
The next day, Jiang Wei had a large ring built on the battlefield and stood in it. He waited for the entire day, tapping his foot, but Deng Ai never showed up.
He sent a messenger to the other camp with a rubber chicken, but Deng Ai laughed it off. “I just had a cold,” he explained. “Tomorrow?”
He didn’t show up the next day either, or the day after that. Jiang Wei spent the entire week in the ring, twiddling his thumbs in and complaining about his blue balls.
“You know, this might be a trick,” said Fu Qian.
“Wow, that’s the first time that’s occurred to me!” gasped Jiang Wei. “We should probably ask Wu for some help.”
On cue, a messenger strolled in. “Sima Zhao just finished off Zhuge Dan. He put Sun Chen in his place too, and now he’s on his way here.”
“So this whole war was a big waste of time,” said Jiang Wei, in disgust. “This is bullshit. Let’s go home.”
Saxo Dramaticus 