Rather Than Zhang Ran, Zhang Bao’s Eldest Daughter

The Southern Campaign concluded in a resounding victory for the Sun-Liu alliance. Following the miraculous triumph at Red Cliffs, this consecutive conquest of the Southlands made Liu Bei and Sun Quan realize Cao Cao was no longer an invincible juggernaut.
And simultaneously, that they needed each other’s support.
Especially Zhou Yu, witnessing Zhang Fei’s exploits firsthand, sought to reinforce their alliance by ceding the southern Southlands to Liu Bei. Having secured Jingzhou during the campaign, Liu Bei shared this view, pursuing a marital tie by wedding Sun Quan’s younger sister.

Contrary to the post-war proceedings occupying both sides, I was practically under house arrest, barred even from training under the pretext of recovering from injuries.
“When I’m perfectly fine, honestly.”
This forced inactivity only made me feel more sluggish. But perhaps it was the bloodshed – Zhang Fei sternly warned he would cease teaching me martial arts if I disobeyed again.
Unable to risk losing such an eminent mentor, I had no choice but to comply with this segregation. Another factor was…
‘So Zhang Fei can make that kind of expression too.’
That pained, troubled look as he saw my wounds.
No matter how devalued children’s lives may be in this chaotic era, viewed as mere tools, a father remained a father in the end, it seemed.

Though only suffering a graze, the gash from that spear strike had already nearly healed over, my otherworldly recovery rate apparently nearing human limits. A scar was unavoidable, but it no longer hindered my movements.
“Ah…I want to go out.”

Zhang Fei was too preoccupied with post-war matters to return, leaving me trapped inside. Maybe I should read a book instead? Having studied Chinese characters extensively in my past life, attaining the third proficiency level, coupled with Zhang Ran’s innate knowledge, I could read them as fluently as a native language. Zhang Ran had even memorized several classics despite her tender years, demonstrating considerable intellect.

“Then why not go out?”
An unexpected response to my mutterings – turning towards the entrance, I spotted a burly man in his early 30s with a faint smile.
“Who might you be?”
“Hm, for now I shall address you not as the Lord Regent’s concubine, but General Zhangfei’s woman. I am Xiaoqiao, following Commander Zhou.”
“Xiaoqiao?”
Unconsciously furrowing my brow, my weariness was not solely physical.
Xiaoqiao and Zhu Shang. How could I forget the names of those traitorous deserters who beheaded Zhang Fei and defected to Sun Quan? It was still over a decade before the Yiling Incident, yet here they already trailed Zhang Fei.
Not professing physiognomy myself, her name nevertheless conjured the image of an opportunistic jackal biding her time. Which, truthfully, she was.

Seeming to grasp my wariness, Xiaoqiao spread her palms placatingly as she spoke:
“Haha, be not so guarded. I come with General Zhangfei’s full permission. Ah, my apologies for the abrupt intrusion.”
With Zhang Fei’s approval, I had no grounds to object as I rose and respectfully gestured in greeting.
“I too have been remiss.”
“Then let us consider any impropriety forgiven on both sides.”
Xiaoqiao returned the courteous gesture. Recognizing her growth from the naive ‘Ah Mong’ of Wu, I strove to conceal any animosity as I responded:
“And to what do I owe this visit?”
“Ah, the reason belatedly – there is someone who wishes to see you.”
“Someone seeking me? It must be the Commander.”
The only ones Xiaoqiao would show such deference to, utilizing her merely as a messenger, were Zhou Yu and her husband Sun Quan. With Sun Quan unlikely to come himself, it had to be Zhou Yu.
Xiaoqiao nodded in confirmation.
“Indeed. I was instructed to bring you as his guest, so please follow me.”
“If Father has permitted it, I can hardly refuse. Please lead the way.”

Following Xiaoqiao outside, the crisp winter air filled my lungs with its distinctive scent. The waning days of 209 A.D. – as Cao Cao’s momentum stalled and Zhuge Liang’s stratagem of fragmenting the realm took shape, why had Zhou Yu summoned me?

“Have a seat.”
Alone with Zhou Yu after Xiaoqiao withdrew, he gestured for me to sit before preparing something, clattering in a corner of the tent.
“May I offer any assistance?”
Rising, I inquired, but Zhou Yu lightly laughed it off.
“A mere hobby of mine, please wait at ease.”

Renowned not just for military strategy and martial arts but the cultural arts of calligraphy, music, divination and chess, it seemed Zhou Yu’s talents encompassed yet another domain – the tea ceremony.
The ‘tea ceremony’ nomenclature originated in Japan if I recalled, termed ‘chayi’ in China? But if tea drinking etiquette fell under the Confucian ‘rites’ category, perhaps no separate distinction was needed.

Zhou Yu’s deft mastery revealed long practice, lacking the full formalized structure of modern tea ceremonies but likely reflecting this era’s contemporary customs and protocols.
Though undoubtedly differing from my modern experiences, the aroma still evoked a nostalgic comfort. I savored the wafting fragrance, memories of my insomnia-plagued tea obsession phase drifting back.

The taut tension fraying, steeped in that soothing scent, my tightly wound nerves unwound until even Zhou Yu’s presence could not provoke unease, my face naturally relaxing into a faint smile.
Until the soft ‘clack’ of Zhou Yu setting down his cup prompted me to open my eyes.

“My apologies, the aroma was simply too inviting. You truly have mastered the art of brewing tea.”
“Haha, you flatter me overmuch.”
Yet Zhou Yu’s face betrayed a hint of pride nonetheless.

Following his lead, I raised the cup to inhale the potent fragrance before taking a light sip to savor the taste. Hmm, decidedly bitter – fortunately, I preferred robustly tangy flavors over anything overtly sweet which might have prompted a grimace from my childish palate.

“You drink it quite well. Do you often partake of tea? You seem most familiar with it.”
“Yes? Ah, I do have some experience with it.”
“Is that so? It is a taste children seldom appreciate.”
Seeing my evident enjoyment of the tea he had brewed, Zhou Yu’s tone softened appreciatively.

“How fares your injury?”
“Fully healed. I take after my father, it seems.”
“Haha, indeed, General Zhang is blessed with a robust constitution.”

After some light banter about adjusting to military camp life as a female and recounting the Southern Campaign, just as I assumed our conversation would conclude amicably, Zhou Yu abruptly broached an unexpected subject:

“I have a son around your age named Zhuxun.”
“Unlike you, he is a rather frail child. But he has been graced with looks as exceptional as yours.”

With Zhou Yu as the father, it would be astronomically unlikely for his child to be ill-favored in appearance.
One of the scant few legendary beauties recorded in official histories, lauded with the appellation ‘Zhugeliang’ for his transcendent looks – meeting him in person, it was clear beauty standards differed little between past and present.
Astonishingly handsome enough to make a living off his appearance even in the modern era, his son Zhuxun must epitomize the sickly pretty boy ideal.

“If you are amenable, how would you feel about meeting my son?”
“Pardon?”

A father directly proposing a female meet his son – such a suggestion carried clear implications regardless of era. He was essentially putting me forth as a prospective daughter-in-law.
Feigning ignorance, I subtly deflected:

“I have heard it unwise to relocate my sickly elder brother erratically, lest harm befall his frail constitution. I would not wish to unduly inconvenience the young master.”

“Then would it not resolve that issue if you accompanied me instead?”
An exceedingly suggestive tone – had I truly been an innocent young maiden lacking my past life’s memories and wisdom, I might have been utterly swayed by Zhou Yu’s honeyed words.
Renowned for his melodious voice, Zhou Yu clearly understood how to wield it, his peerless beauty coupled with that mellifluous timbre granting an almost spellbinding charisma.

But alas, my mentality leaned far more towards the masculine.

“I appreciate your generous overture, but I cannot yet leave my parents’ care at such a tender age. I ask for your understanding.”
“If you obtain their permission, then…?”
Zhou Yu persisted tenaciously. If my memory served, his son Zhuxun eventually wedded Sun Quan’s daughter Songnuban – one of the Romance’s most reviled shrews, ensuring she lingered in my recollections. Just as Liu Bei and Zhang Fei became sworn brothers through this marital tie, Zhou Yu aimed to reinforce his Sun alliance through another.
Yet to insert me into the equation? His intentions were laid bare.

“Even were I to acquiesce to your desires, my father would never abandon Lord Liu Bei’s service.”
An exceedingly blunt rebuttal – that even if I married his son, Zhang Fei would remain steadfastly loyal to Liu Bei over the Sun-Zhou alliance. Zhou Yu’s eyes widened before he suddenly burst into hearty laughter.

“Ahahaha! So that was your perspective? That I broached this to ensnare General Zhang into our camp? Hm, it would be disingenuous to claim that never crossed my mind, but neither was it my sole intent.”

“You mean…?”
Taken aback by Zhou Yu’s unanticipated response, I could only gape dumbly.
Regarding me with an indulgent, affectionate air, Zhou Yu explained softly:

“Let me be frank. I desire you – I wish for you to become my daughter-in-law. Initially, I had intended to accept Lord Sun’s proposal for a union between you and Zhuxun. But upon meeting you, my mind was changed.”

He did not seem to be simply dangling me as bait to recruit Zhang Fei. Was Zhou Yu truly that accomplished an actor? I had no recollections of such renown.
As I struggled to evaluate his sincerity, Zhou Yu nonchalantly broached another subject:

“I hear you rejected a marriage proposal from Lord Liu’s son previously?”
How could he possibly know that? No matter how formidable his intelligence network, learning such personal details seemed excessive.

“Ah…!”
“So it is true then.”
“You were probing me…”
“My apologies. But this too serves as a lesson. Going forward, exercise greater caution – consider matters twice over, respond with prudence even when dealing with supposed allies.”

That I was formerly betrothed to Liu Shan was information Zhou Yu could reasonably access. Having arranged the Liu-Sun marital alliance between Sun Quan’s sister and Liu Bei, of course Zhou Yu would be aware of Liu Bei’s son as well.
But he had been unaware of the broken betrothal until deducing it from my reactions, revealing his own conclusions.

“I can surmise your reasons for that decision. Were you to marry my son, such concerns would not arise. Zhuxun is certainly intelligent, but his constitution renders him unfit for the battlefield. The roles would be reversed – you would lead my Valiant Elite to war while Zhuxun assisted me at home overseeing domestic affairs. In contrast, following Lord Liu will continually put you to the test – is the maiden suited as a general’s spouse, or the future prince consort’s wife?”

Zhou Yu’s words rang disturbingly true. No matter my merits and achievements, the ‘woman’ label would perpetually trail me, quite possibly even into a late, difficult marriage without issue by the time the Three Kingdoms were firmly established and the prime years for making my mark passed by, rendering my path perilously obstructed at any moment.

Unable to refute his reasoning, Zhou Yu seemed determined to fully convince me as he continued:
“I vow – were you to become my daughter-in-law, the Sun-Liu alliance would never be severed from the Sun family’s side.”

A promise to uphold their alliance unless Liu Bei betrayed them first – words carrying the full weight of Zhou Yu himself, which Sun Quan would undoubtedly honor.
Admittedly, a tempting proposition. If Zhou Yu avoided his untimely demise… And if I accepted while redoubling precautions to preserve his life, perhaps I could actually succeed in saving him.

Yet I could not bring myself to nod in acceptance.

“I am grateful for your exceedingly gracious overtures.”
“Then…”
“But I must beg forgiveness in being unable to accept your kindness.”

A faint tremor flickered across Zhou Yu’s eyes. Had he not anticipated my refusal? Or did my genuine appeal render him reluctant to forsake taking me into his family?
Meeting his inquiring gaze, I inwardly mused:
‘But your lord is Sun Jian, after all.’
Initially a capable ruler, he progressively devolved into an utter catastrophe as an alcoholic – second only to Dong Zhuo among the land’s worst sovereigns. Why would I willingly subject myself to serving that, over the ideal lords like Liu Bei with ministers like Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, or the Filially Pious Liu Shan?

Yet I could hardly voice such blunt reasons to Zhou Yu, so I opted for a more diplomatic response:
“A noble person’s words should not contradict their actions. Though a woman, I still aspire to uphold moral dao. Having already pledged my allegiance to Lord Liu Bei, I cannot abandon him.”

“I see. Most regrettable.”
Closing his eyes, Zhou Yu murmured ruefully. His handsomely chiseled features almost made me feel guilty for refusing.
I should take my leave promptly before lingering further. Beside Zhang Fei, Zhou Yu would not dare persist.

“The hour grows late, Commander Zhou. I shall take my leave.”
“Very well. But should you change your mind, you need only come to me. I shall await you always.”

Comprehending his intent of taking me as a daughter-in-law, possibly with his son already present… Such overtures still felt discomfiting no matter the context.
Yet I maintained proper decorum, politely excusing myself before calmly departing Zhou Yu’s quarters.

Filling my lungs with the crisp evening winter air, I felt considerably lighter. Once I had put some distance between Zhou Yu’s residence, I halted and glanced back.
Light still emanated from his quarters – he had not yet retired for the night, it seemed.

“It appears we were not fated for this life.”
Yet Zhou Yu, I still admired you deeply.
If we part ways here, we may never cross paths again henceforth.
So I hope only fond memories remain between us in parting.

“It was an honor.”
Offering a farewell he could not hear, I bade my past life’s lingering sentiments goodbye.
For now, I was Zhang Ran.