On the morning of the appointed day, Zhang Xin led his personal guard from Zhu'a County toward the shimmering banks of the Ji River.
In the ancient geography of the realm, the Ji River stood proud alongside the Yangtze, the Yellow, and the Huai as one of the four great arterial rivers of the empire. Originating deep within the rugged terrain of Zhi County in Henei, it cut an eastern path straight through Sili, Yanzhou, and Qingzhou. As a dividing line between two friendly warlords, it was the perfect geopolitical neutral zone.
The atmosphere at the provincial border was vibrant. Merchants, travelers, and farmers from both states crossed paths under the spring sun, creating a bustling, peaceful hub of commerce.
Zhang Xin observed the scene from his window, his mood lifting. While the peasants under his rule were not all wealthy enough to sport rosy, well-fed complexions, they walked with their heads held high. Their eyes were bright with a fierce vitality, a stark contrast to the hollow, sickly glaze that haunted the starving refugees of other provinces.
The moment the local populace recognized the majestic standard of the Governor and the elite armor of his personal guard, the crowds parted like a tide. Men lowered their burdens and women paused their work, bowing with deep, unforced reverence to the man who had brought law and order back to their fields.
For this trip, Zhang Xin had finally unsealed his official imperial carriage. Gifted to him years ago by the late Emperor Liu Hong, the grand vehicle had sat in a darkened corner of the Pingyuan armory for over three years, slowly collecting dust. Since this journey was short and entirely diplomatic, he had decided to take it out for a spin to keep the woodwork from rotting.
Along the grassy banks of the Ji River, young men and women from wealthy local clans were enjoying a spring outing, while fishermen cast their nets into the sparkling waters. When they caught sight of the imperial carriage, many stepped forward, eager to pay their respects to the fabled General of Chariots and Cavalry.
Zhang Xin politely gestured for his guards to hold them back at a respectful distance. He directed his retinue toward a secluded, pristine bend in the river to park the carriage.
The personal guard instantly split into two disciplined units:
[ OUTPOST PERIMETER ] -> Guard Unit 1: Forms a secure cordon against unauthorized onlookers. | [ INTERIOR PAVILION ] -> Guard Unit 2: Clears weeds, lays wooden planks, sets up silk canopies, cushions, and low tables.
Within moments, a temporary, elegant open-air pavilion fit for receiving a head of state materialized on the riverbank.
Knowing that Lu County lay a considerable distance away and that Sun Jian's heavy retinue would take time to arrive, Zhang Xin decided to kill the hours. He requested a bamboo fishing rod, pulled up a wicker stool on the muddy bank of the Ji River, and happily transformed himself from a supreme military commander into a patient angler.
An hour bled away before a scout galloped back from the southern ridge.
"My Lord! Governor Sun of Yanzhou is a mere five li from our position!"
"Oh? Wentai is fast," Zhang Xin laughed, tossing his line aside. He turned to his towering shadow. "Dian Wei! Fire up the braziers. Let's get to work."
"Understood!" Dian Wei bellowed, barking commands to the rest of the guard.
The encampment instantly transformed into a hive of activity. Carcass sheep were expertly dressed, fresh river water was boiled, charcoal braziers were fanned into white-hot coals, and fine northern vintages were set to warm.
"Five li..." Zhang Xin muttered. He glanced down at the completely empty wicker basket beside him, then looked up at the stone-faced guards standing at attention.
He cleared his throat. "Out of curiosity... do any of you actually know how to fish?"
The Tiger and the Prodigies
It wasn't long before the thunder of hooves announced Sun Jian's arrival.
True to diplomatic protocol, Sun Jian halted his vanguard at the perimeter, allowing his personal guard to mingle peacefully with Zhang Xin's sentries. He dismounted, left his heavy weapons behind, and walked into the pavilion accompanied by only two young teenagers.
"Wentai! You have kept me waiting," Zhang Xin called out, walking over to meet him with a broad, triumphant grin—and a freshly caught, wriggling silver carp firmly gripped in his hand.
Sun Jian's gruff features split into a massive smile. He stepped forward and bowed from the waist with profound respect. "This subordinate pays his respects to the Lord!"
"Raise yourself, old friend. No need for such rigid court formalities between us," Zhang Xin chuckled, quickly reaching out with his free hand to steady Sun Jian's forearms.
"We pay our respects to the Lord!" the two boys echoed, bowing in perfect unison behind their commander.
"At ease, young men," Zhang Xin replied, offering a welcoming gesture with his sleeve.
The massive carp was still flopping wildly in his grip, a highly conspicuous sight for a grand diplomatic summit. Sun Jian stared at the fish, highly amused. "Was the Lord truly testing the river just now?"
"Indeed," Zhang Xin nodded, his eyes crinkling. "This particular carp must have sensed the Tiger of Jiangdong was approaching; it practically threw itself onto my hook so we could have a proper stew to accompany our wine today."
"I never knew the Lord possessed the patience of a fisherman," Sun Jian remarked with genuine admiration. "To be completely honest, though my roots trace back to the rivers south of the Yangtze, I have never managed to successfully harvest a single fish in my entire life..."
Zhang Xin laughed, then set the fish into a basin and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the two teenagers standing behind Sun Jian. Xu Kun was nowhere to be seen.
"Wentai, where is Kunkun today? And who might these two impressive young men be?"
The two boys, both hovering around seventeen or eighteen years of age, were actively sizing Zhang Xin up in return. Though they maintained immaculate discipline, their eyes burned with the electric excitement of youth meeting a living legend.
The taller youth stood at an imposing seven feet eight inches, sporting a radiant, fiercely confident countenance. The slightly shorter youth, measuring around seven feet five inches, possessed a face of such striking, ethereal elegance it defied description.
Zhang Xin had always considered himself a remarkably handsome man by the standards of the era. Yet, standing in front of these two radiant youths, he felt a sudden, rare prickle of self-consciousness.
"By the heavens... they are staggeringly beautiful," Zhang Xin thought, highly amused. "If I were a lady of the inner court, I'd probably faint on the spot."
Sun Jian proudly clapped a heavy hand onto the shoulder of the taller, sunny youth. "Allow me to introduce them, Lord. This is my eldest son and heir: Sun Ce, courtesy name Bofu."
Sun Ce immediately stepped forward, bowing with crisp, military precision. "Ce pays his sacred respects to the Lord!"
"Sun Ce! The Little Tyrant himself!" Zhang Xin's mind flashed with sudden recognition.
His gaze immediately drifted toward the second, devastatingly handsome youth. "If the first is Sun Ce... then this one can only be..."
Sure enough, Sun Jian gestured toward the elegant teenager with a tone of immense respect for his lineage. "And this is his sworn brother, Zhou Yu, courtesy name Gongjin, a native of Shuxian County in Lujiang."
The Architecture of a Legend
As Sun Jian proudly rambled on about the boys' background, Zhang Xin listened intently, pieceing together the historical tapestry of their legendary brotherhood.
Before the Yellow Turban rebellion tore the land apart, Sun Jian had served as a low-ranking county magistrate in Guangling and Xiapi deep within southern Xuzhou. His family had naturally accompanied him on his administrative rotations.
"Ah, that explains it," Zhang Xin realized in a flash of sudden clarity. "No wonder historically, after Sun Jian's tragic death, a destitute Sun Ce was able to easily recruit a titan like Zhang Hong to draft his grand blueprint for conquering the south. The Sun clan had deep, generational roots embedded in Xuzhou long before they ever became kings."
Sun Jian's narrative continued. When the yellow banners of rebellion rose, Xuzhou became a slaughterhouse. Summoned by the court to quell the chaos, Sun Jian had moved his family to Shouchun for their safety.
Sun Ce was a mere ten years old at the time. Yet, even as a child, he possessed a magnetic, untamed ambition. While other boys played in the mud, Sun Ce was out traveling the district, actively seeking out legendary heroes, martial artists, and renowned scholars, binding them to his circle of friends.
During the long years Sun Jian spent bleeding on northern battlefields, his young son's reputation in Shouchun grew so monumental it bled over the provincial borders into neighboring Lujiang County. It was there that a young Zhou Yu, captivated by the tales of Sun Ce's extraordinary charisma, traveled to Shouchun simply to meet him. The moment their eyes met, their souls locked; they forged an unbreakable vow of brotherhood.
Later, when the coalition rose against Dong Zhuo, Zhou Yu recognized that Shouchun would become a geopolitical target. He had pragmatically advised Sun Ce to relocate the entire Sun family to Shu County, offering them sanctuary within the sprawling estates of the prestigious Zhou clan. There, the two boys lived as one, sharing clothes, food, and dreams of empire while attracting a vast following of loyal retainers.
"Unbelievable," Zhang Xin thought, his mind reeling with profound awe.
How old had Sun Ce been during those pivotal years? Barely a pre-teen! Yet, at an age when most aristocratic children were sheltered in inner courtyards, Sun Ce was already effortlessly commanding the respect of mature, hardened scholars and legendary figures, drawing them into his personal orbit.
The Sun clan did not boast the centuries of imperial prestige enjoyed by the Four Generational Excellencies of the Yuan family. They were viewed by the high nobility as nothing more than crude, low-born militarists from the southern marshes.
What did Sun Ce's success mean? It meant the boy possessed either a terrifying, supernatural charisma, or an unparalleled genius for leadership.
He was quite literally a born sovereign. The legendary "Little Tyrant of Jiangdong" was no historical fluke.
Zhang Xin felt a sudden, humbling wave of nostalgia. When he was a teenager, his grandest ambition had been surviving the school bell so he could run home and play video games.
Before today, Zhang Xin's perception of Sun Ce had been heavily warped by historical records. He had viewed the boy as a mirror image of his father: a reckless, hot-headed brute who lacked political nuance and was structurally destined to walk into an assassin's trap at an early age.
But looking into Sun Ce's bright, piercing eyes today, Zhang Xin realized how catastrophically he had underestimated the youth.
"If history hasn't lied to me," Zhang Xin mused grimly, a chill running down his spine, "if Sun Jian doesn't fall early in this timeline, and if Sun Ce is allowed to reach his full, mature potential... the entire geopolitical landscape of the three kingdoms will be violently rewritten. The north will face a monster they cannot tame."