All Great Things Begin with Conversation - 2
Mao Zedong once said that all great deeds truly begin with conversation. Guo Jia's theory of ten wins and ten losses pierces through the ages as timeless human wisdom. I have no idea why Guo Jia here is pushing for eight wins and eight losses.
But one thing I can say for sure.
"Skip the wordplay and let's have an honest conversation, shall we?"
Guo Jia widened his eyes all pretty-like, clearly thinking he'd dropped some profound line.
"Why do you call it wordplay?"
"Picture me parroting your words right back at you like a mirror. Liu Bei this, Cao Cao that—I'm the type who hates that character-evaluation game."
The ten-wins-ten-losses bit is the ultimate character eval game. This eight-wins-eight-losses nonsense is probably the same at its core. Bashing Liu Bei while propping up Cao Cao—no doubt. I struck first before he even unpacked it, so now he'll think I've got him all figured out.
Sure enough, Guo Jia crossed his arms like he got the point, let out an "ah..." and stood from his seat.
"Well then, that's settled. Since we can talk, I'll observe the formalities."
"By all means."
Guo Jia bowed politely.
"Guo Jia, Chief of Staff and Supreme Military Strategist, greets the Governor of Soyang."
"Chen Soyoung, Inspector General, Secretary, and Magistrate of Soyang."
I bowed back. Paying respects to a genius of this era isn't shameful, and courtesy demands courtesy.
"Everyone, withdraw. I want to speak with him alone."
With a resolute nod—like, trust me on this—they caught my intent and cleared out. I sat first, all prim and proper, and politely gestured for Guo Jia to join me.
"Alright then, we're good. Did you come just to suggest surrender?"
"I figured you'd refuse."
"Why's that?"
"Otherwise, you wouldn't have detained the envoy even for a day. We've both staked our necks—that's why I'm being so formal."
I racked my brain for historical cases where roughing up envoys ended well... nah, gave up.
Is it really that big a deal? As I mentally talked myself into a win, Guo Jia pressed on.
"Which means your view of the world must be something special. Do you truly see hope for Shu?"
It was a sharp jab, right to the core.
Long-term, I didn't think Shu had hope, but I played it cool.
"Hope, you say?"
"Hope for unifying All Under Heaven. Shu has no shot at seizing the realm. That's why I came bearing grace—and frankly, I wanted to meet the governor who held off Cao's massive army. Not just anyone cooks up a scheme like that."
"What scheme?"
"A hero's scheme."
Guo Jia loved heroes.
Back when Cheng Yu urged Cao Cao that Liu Bei fit the "hero" mold and should be eliminated, Guo Jia argued killing him would lose the people's hearts—better to keep him subordinate and managed.
Maybe Guo Jia's the reason Liu Bei’s still breathing.
But he's the enemy.
"That's no hero's scheme."
I shut it down hard, and Guo Jia nodded like he accepted it.
"If that's your stance, I'll take it as such. So, will you accept my proposal?"
I had no clue what proposal he meant. Honestly, it felt more like a half-threat than an offer.
"No."
"Then our talk ends here. Eight hundred thousand will trample Jingzhou. I repeat: I came to offer grace."
"Bluffing, right? Ten or twenty wan is still a big army, sure. Why the provocation?"
Guo Jia paused mid-reply.
"Pity. Even for a woman, it's a shame to let that talent rot."
"Then let me make a counter-proposal."
His face lit up.
"What proposal?"
"You don't raise troops against Soyang."
"And what do you want in return?"
"I'll advise my lord not to strike Chang'an."
Guo Jia let out a hollow laugh.
"Absurd talk?"
Of course it was absurd, but hearing me out might flip the script. I'd mulled it over hard, weighing the possibilities if we fully absorbed Jingzhou's forces. This was one scenario.
"You know damn well why you have to garrison Luoyang and Chang'an. If our army links up across the Han River to hit Chang'an? That'd be fun."
I laid out the battlefield like it was in his palm, and Guo Jia clicked his tongue in admiration.
He nodded, clearly seeing how it'd put him on the back foot.
"Fun indeed. Worth discussing with the Chancellor."
"Or hear another option?"
Guo Jia pondered, then slowly rose.
"Let's say. Five-year deadline. If it comes to that, would the Secretary accept?"
Five years: plenty for Cao Cao to crush Xiliang and pacify the northern Wuhuan remnants. If his northern expeditions dragged on unfinished, Yuan Tan and Yuan Shang might still be kicking—and Guo Jia probably wants to wrap that up.
But five years gives us time too.
We need to fully swallow Yizhou like in history, build our economy—income—to close the gap even a bit.
Cao's got an empire; the rest of us are like huddled kingdoms.
But if those fringe kingdoms link arms? Empire's got flames licking its toes.
Hypothetical Q&A, so I shot straight.
"Five's too much. Two's enough."
Guo Jia tsked.
"What a shame. Such a waste."
He muttered to himself, then bowed politely once more.
"Underestimated you as a young girl, but I've learned plenty."
"Your boldness teaches me too. I dare not presume to grasp your intent."
We traded pleasantries and parted.
Nothing happened. In the end, nothing came of it.
*
Guo Jia's visit hit me with instant instinct.
What if our hypotheticals played out for real? Red Cliffs-scale ambitions brewing.
After Red Cliffs, Cao Cao said: "If only Guo Jia had been there."
Now Guo Jia is there.
I pictured Red Cliffs.
Pang Tong's chain locks, Zhou Yu's fire assault, Huang Gai's bitter-flesh ploy—any might fizzle against him.
An enemy juggernaut where schemes slide right off.
Fear gripped me. But optimism too.
Jingzhou's forces weren't absorbed by Cao, so we've got more than expected.
Cao's real numbers fall way short of Guo Jia's boasted 800k.
Battlefield won't be Red Cliffs either. We hold all Jingzhou, so we're Cao's priority—Wu's second fiddle.
All assumptions.
I needed to ponder. Deep.
What would Master Kongming do? Summon the southeast wind?
Southeast wind?
Yangyang's southeast?
Jiangxia... Jiangxia!
Something's off with Jiangxia.
It wasn't Liu Qi's land originally.
Why? In this "perfect" world, why this tiny glitch?
How'd that crack widen enough for Liu Bei to snag Jingzhou?
If this world's a parallel universe, can I even predict history reliably?
Is that nightmare I dreaded finally happening?
Then... am I useless?
The thought hollowed me out.
Irrational dread reared up, chilling my heart.
I clutched my feather fan and hugged that aching hot seat tight.
*
Using the Guo Jia chat as an excuse—tons to mull over—I slipped back to Yongzhong for a breather.
No point handling state affairs in this funk.
"Oh dearie me, look at that pallor. You okay? Eating properly?"
Mood was crap.
Huang Yueying reads vibes like a pro.
Her careful approach to my gloom was so sweet, I couldn't snap.
Perfect timing: the whole Zhuge clan was gathered at the Yongzhong residence.
I tried psyching myself up—cursing that cheeky jerk or dramatic hag in my head, all petty and trashy thoughts—to rally my spirits. But nope, just fresh waves of future-anxiety clogging my chest.
"What about rice? Look how scrawny our baby girl's gotten."
"Meals are fine. Soyang folks barely eat one or two a day. As their caretaker, I skip sometimes too."
Soyang excuse—perfect cover for my no-appetite truth, I thought.
"Madam, might we speak alone?"
Zhuge saw right through.
No flirting today.
Huang Yueying bowed to him, gave me a tight hug, and headed out.
Door swung open; Zhuge Jun's eyes met mine—he flinched and whipped his head away.
Creak—
Door shut, lantern flickered. Eerie as a haunted house, chills crawling my skin.
"You could be proud of yourself—why the long face?"
"Cuz nothing I've done is really mine."
His expression soured, pissed. Fair play—I'd be too. I'm debuffing everyone's morale like a walking curse; he's basically begging me to turn it off.
"Nothing you've achieved is truly yours. True enough. But you're overlooking what you can't ignore."
"What's that?"
That tail-chasing rhetoric.
Don't even wanna bite.
"Reading Heaven's flow is one thing; few have the spirit to ride it. You achieve nothing solo. But someone senses your spirit—and follows."
Today's Zhuge wasn't nitpicking. I stared at his dead-serious face and slowly lifted my head.
...Someone drawn by my spirit?
"Then... suppose I misread the flow? What if something irreversible hits? No regrets then?"
Zhuge snapped open his feather fan. Dignified—way more the strategist than my totem self.
"That's what a strategist is for. A true master turns even wrongs into rights. That's what we call a strategist."
Suddenly, he bellowed.
"Have you forgotten Baling, Chen Soyoung?!"
I jumped, eyes bugging out.
"Can you read the heavens?"
His roar had me flinging the door open, staring at the night sky.
Late Han sky, blue as ever.
"Northern tortoise hunkered in its shell—we must shatter it and advance. Who perfectly predicts All Under Heaven? Why torment yourself over what needn't be tormented?"
Couldn't spit the truth: cuz you die at Wuzhang Plains and Shu crumbles.
Frustrating—can't confess it's the "untormentable torment." Dodged instead, probing his read on the stars.
"Shatter the shell and advance?"
"Shatter it. Advance. How long will you cower?"
Spot on. Keep debuffing and my MP drains dry—no spells for the clutch moment.
Couldn't cling to passivity forever.
"Gotta make that tortoise-shattering-advance formation."
Sun Quan flashed in mind.
Red Cliffs too.
Zhuge might be ordering a Red Cliffs redux.
Never assume. But damn, I wanted someone to just tell me what to do.
Ha... why's the conclusion always...
"Yup... war's the only answer."