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Chapter 1: The White Gate Tower, Snow Night
On a snowy night at White Gate Tower, Lü Bu knelt, begging for mercy. The onlookers’ eyes were cold and indifferent—except for one, whose heartbeat throbbed in sync with his own. Xiao Meng crouched in the snow, using arrows as chess pieces in this unfinished game of fate, determined to make his move for once.
The city of Xiapi had fallen. Lü Bu, hair disheveled, hands bound tightly behind his back, knelt before the White Gate Tower. It was the dead of winter; snow had just swept the city, and he wore only a thin garment.
“Lü Bu is willing to serve Chancellor Cao with all his strength!” he shouted, still clinging to hope. Despite his wild beard and unkempt appearance, his eyes burned with life, as if he’d forgotten the storms he’d just endured in Xiapi.
Hidden by the thick snow, Xiao Meng lay concealed by the right wall of the tower, dressed all in white to blend in with the landscape. As a master archer, his keen eyes missed nothing.
Tension hummed through the Cao army. Some whispered, some sneered, more seemed lost. Was this the so-called God of War? Was this Lü Bu, the mighty among men? The scene was almost absurd.
At the center stood a Grand Preceptor’s chair, placed outside the main doors. Cao Cao sat, composed and solemn, Liu Bei beside him. Liu Bei’s polite face was shadowed by uncertainty, his gaze flickering between Lü Bu, Cao Cao, and the troops. Only Cao Cao’s eyes were fathomless, his expression godlike and serene.
Below the tower knelt Lü Bu.
“Lü Bu surrenders! Lord Cao! I beg you!”
He pleaded, struggling before death. Xiao Meng smiled wryly. Did you really think you still had a chance? That a miracle would save you? Foolish! If fate favored you, would you be here now?
Lü Bu, you always cling so stubbornly—how exasperating!
He cursed inwardly, but a small smile tugged at his lips. He knew how cold it was. All around him, the troops’ faces tensed, shivering in the bitter cold.
In this snow-blanketed city, only two hearts burned hot: not Cao Cao’s, not Liu Bei’s. Two hearts—one was his, the other Lü Bu’s.
…Snow began to fall again.
“Lü Bu surrenders! Lord Cao! Please!19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNDsxIMoY8Q
Spare this brute!19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7sxcfPz0jq
Let me live a little longer—let me learn more!19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCm2L4S0ySb
A beast takes time to be tamed! Lord Cao, do you hear me?”
His desperate cries echoed in the bleak night. Xiao Meng’s ears rang with the sound, as if struck physically. Lü Bu threw himself into kowtows, frantic.
Only silence answered him. The soldiers’ expressions changed; they stopped whispering and mocking, all eyes fixed on Lü Bu with shock or confusion.
Xiao Meng stared too, listening to the steady pounding—not the sound of Lü Bu’s forehead against stone, but Xiao Meng’s own heartbeat, thumping in time.
In a flash, Xiao Meng’s mind leapt back to a night of torrential rain, so dark it seemed suffocating. He saw Lü Bu, wounded and surrounded by loyal soldiers, returning to the city, chaos all around. Amidst the crowd, one person was missing… she had slipped away quietly.
White Gate Tower. Lü Bu’s chamber.
Shadows flickered in candlelight. Xiao Meng stood in the doorway, watching the man called the God of War.
Lü Bu sat as the physician whispered, “My lord, it’s time.”
The blade fell. Lü Bu jerked up, startling the doctors.
“No…no…it hurts!..Hurts!19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGhtoaNWYgQ
No…no, it doesn’t!19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8h6uo2BEmw
It doesn’t hurt!19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIcq5RdS9dL
Little one… Father… Father doesn’t hurt at all!”
The physicians, confused and teary, watched him. Xiao Meng wished it would end quickly, that no one would see Lü Bu like this anymore.
Stepping out of the shadows, Xiao Meng spoke:
“The little one is gone; she won’t return.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Ac93IapJz
Is this still Lü Bu?19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrWVNUfRMix
They say, Lü Bu fears nothing.”
Lü Bu looked up, clarity returning to his eyes.
Xiao Meng approached and helped the fallen man. “Come, sit properly.”
“It’s just flesh pain. The real pain isn’t this.”
Xiao Meng glanced at the crying physicians. Who had ever seen the God of War like this?
Bent over, Lü Bu whispered, “If not this, then what?”
“The pain is brothers dying by your side. The pain is allying with enemies for survival. The worst pain is when those closest to you turn indifferent.”
“Are you speaking of yourself, or me?” Lü Bu asked.
“We walk different paths, but feel the same.” Xiao Meng gently brushed Lü Bu’s weathered face.
“You know?” Lü Bu looked up.
In his eyes, Xiao Meng saw a sudden spark—a tiny flame in the ashes, flashing through his disheveled hair, burning into Xiao Meng’s heart.
In that moment, Xiao Meng wanted only to watch that flame flicker, forever.
He leaned closer, sitting on Lü Bu’s lap, just as the little one once had. He wrapped his arm around Lü Bu’s broad shoulders, whispering, “Yes, I know.”
Lü Bu held Xiao Meng quietly, burying his head in Xiao Meng’s chest, cherishing the warmth of a gentle hand on his face. In a low voice, Lü Bu murmured, “Yes, it is pain—love’s pain.”
“…Do it.” Lü Bu signaled the doctor.
“Yes, my lord.”
A fierce wind, thick with snow, pulled Xiao Meng back to the present. He shivered. The snow was falling heavier now.
Looking closely, Lü Bu was still kneeling below the dais, while above, the victor—Cao Cao—sat, eyes shifting. After whispering with his companion, Cao Cao’s gaze grew calm. He stood, descending the steps toward Lü Bu.
Xiao Meng knew—the moment had come. He’d made his choice.
His brief life had always been played on others’ chessboards, as someone else’s pawn. But now, for once, he could make a move of his own. Perhaps his first, perhaps his last.
He thought: Heaven has not failed me.
Life is like chess; each move is final.
What Xiao Meng didn’t know was that on this snowy night, the man begging for his life, kowtowing under the White Gate Tower, was remembering too—that night, in Xiao Meng’s arms.
It was perhaps the one moment when their souls truly touched. Lü Bu did not wish to die, but if he must, he wanted his final memory to be that instant.
All his triumphs and failures faded before that.
Where was Xiao Meng now? He must be gone… Perhaps that was for the best.
As Cao Cao descended, Lü Bu saw his decision in Cao Cao’s eyes—Lü Bu must die.
It was over, yet Lü Bu felt strangely peaceful. Still kneeling, he straightened, ready to meet his fate.
Yet in his mind, images of Xiao Meng flashed by, filling his thoughts with a strange tranquility.
He whispered inwardly: Xiao Meng… I am not a prairie fire. When the blade cuts into flesh, how can it not hurt…
The pain is real. But that doesn’t matter.
What matters is that Lü Bu remembers that night, thinking:
Let the knife fall—leave a mark on my body, so I remember:
I am Lü Bu.
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End of Chapter 1
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