Three Kingdoms: A wise grandson, Cao Wei can last for three generations!

Jia Xu took another swig of wine and lowered his voice: "Do you think your grandfather wanted to kill those two children? Who knows when he couldn't sleep at night?"

But he had no choice. If he didn't kill them, the two children would grow up, be manipulated, and cause trouble sooner or later. It was better to end it all now than wait for future trouble.

"Is this the art of rulership?"

"No," Jia Xu shook his head. "This is the price of living. If you live, someone else has to die. If you sit here drinking tea and eating pastries, someone else has to be out there farming and blacksmithing."

The world is only so big, and resources are only so plentiful. If you want it, others want it too. So it comes down to who has the stronger fist.

Cao Rui fell silent. He looked at the black and white pieces on the chessboard and suddenly realized that he would never be able to beat Jia Xu in this game.

It's not that my chess skills are bad, it's that I'm not ruthless enough.

As Cao Rui walked out of Jia Xu's residence, his mind was in turmoil. Bixie followed behind, no more, no less, three steps behind.

"To ward off evil spirits."

"exist."

Do you think Mr. Jia is right?

Bixie thought for a moment and said, "Yes."

"Which one is correct?"

"There is a price to pay for living. The young master's price is worry. Mr. Jia's price is ruthlessness. Lord Wei's price is being cursed."

Cao Rui stopped and glanced back at him. Bixie stood three steps away, hands hanging down, head bowed, back ramrod straight.

"When did you learn to say things like that?"

"That's what Mr. Pang taught me. He said, 'You have to see through people, and you have to speak accurately.'"

Cao Rui couldn't help but laugh: "Did Mr. Pang teach you that?"

"Um."

"Is he drunk again?"

Bixie's lips curled up slightly: "Mm."

Cao Rui burst into laughter, almost to the point of tears. He reached out and patted Bixie on the head: "Let's go home and have hot pot. I'll cook today."

Bixie followed behind him, the smile on her lips still lingering.

In the summer of the nineteenth year of Jian'an (208 AD), Liu Bei captured Chengdu, and Liu Zhang surrendered.

When the news reached Xuchang, Cao Cao was eating shaved ice. He put down his bowl, remained silent for a long while, and then said to Xun Yu beside him, "Yizhou is gone."

Xun Yu said calmly, "Prime Minister, Yizhou will belong to Liu Bei sooner or later. What we need to do now is not to be concerned about Yizhou, but to keep an eye on Jingzhou."

"Jingzhou?" Cao Cao glanced at him.

"Guan Yu is in Jingzhou, while Zhang Fei and Zhao Yun have gone to Yizhou. Jingzhou is now militarily weak, and Sun Quan will definitely be uneasy about that."

Cao Cao nodded, then looked at the map: "You're right. Jingzhou is the key."

He paused, then suddenly smiled: "Have Zihuan do something."

"What is it?"

"Write a letter to Sun Quan. Say that Liu Bei has taken Yizhou, and his next target is Jingzhou. If you don't want to be attacked from both sides, you have to join forces with us."

Xun Yu smiled slightly: "The Prime Minister is brilliant."

When Cao Pi received this task, he was practicing calligraphy in his study. He put down his brush, looked at the letter written by Cao Cao, and frowned.

"Write a letter to Sun Quan?" He looked at Xu Chu, who had come to deliver the message. "Why doesn't Father write it himself?"

"The Prime Minister said that it's more appropriate for the young master to write this." Xu Chu scratched his head. "The Prime Minister's exact words were—'Zihuan writes well; having him write it shows our sincerity.'"

Cao Pi's lips twitched. Was this a compliment on his handwriting, or an insult implying he was only fit to write letters?

But he dared not disobey, and obediently spread out the bamboo slips and wrote stroke by stroke. After finishing, he revised it three more times, changing the wording and the format, spending the whole day on it.

As Cao Rui passed by the study door, he peeked in and asked, "Father, are you writing a love letter?"

"roll."

Cao Rui chuckled and ran off. After the letter was sent, there was no reply from Sun Quan for a long time. Cao Cao grew impatient and wrote another letter, this time written by himself, with much stronger wording—"If you do not die, I will not live in peace."

Sun Quan replied with an even harsher wording: "If I am not at peace, neither will you."

The two had a heated argument from a distance, neither willing to back down.

When Cao Rui heard about this, he couldn't help but complain to Ma Yunlu: "Those two, one in his fifties and the other in his thirties, are acting like children."

Ma Yunlu was practicing her sword in the courtyard when she heard this. She sheathed her sword, wiped the sweat from her brow, and said, "Then why don't you go and try to persuade her?"

"What am I supposed to advise? If I did, they'd both team up and yell at me."

Ma Yunlu laughed and patted him on the head: "You do see things clearly."

Cao Rui rubbed his head and chuckled.

In the autumn of the nineteenth year of Jian'an (208 AD), Xun You died of illness.

The news came suddenly. Just the day before, Xun You was still in the Prime Minister's residence discussing the situation in Jingzhou with Cao Cao, and the next day he was bedridden.

When Cao Rui arrived, Xun You was already speechless. He simply held Cao Rui's hand, looked at him, and moved his lips a few times, but said nothing.

"Mr. Gongda, please rest assured and recover. I'll take care of things with Grandfather."

Xun You's eyes brightened for a moment, then dimmed again. He released his grip, closed his eyes, and never opened them again.

Cao Rui knelt before the bed, remaining silent for a long time. Then he stood up, walked out of the room, and saw Cao Cao standing in the courtyard, his back to him, motionless.

"grandfather."

Cao Cao didn't turn around. His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against wood: "Gongda has followed me for twenty-three years. From Yanzhou, through fighting Lü Bu, Yuan Shao, and Jingzhou. He's been with me every time we went on a campaign. He's always shouldered the burden when we faced difficulties."

He turned around, looked at Cao Rui, and his eyes were red.

"He's not a military officer, what is he carrying?"

Cao Rui didn't know how to answer. He simply walked over and stood beside Cao Cao without saying a word.

The two stood in the courtyard for a long time. The autumn wind blew fallen leaves to their feet, piling up in a thick layer.

Xun You's funeral was a grand affair. Cao Cao personally wrote the eulogy, but he couldn't continue halfway through and asked Xun Yu to finish. Xun Yu took it, looked at it for a long time, and also couldn't write anything.

In the end, it was Cao Zhi who wrote it. His thoughts flowed freely, and he wrote a long and eloquent piece, depicting Xun You's life in a magnificent and moving way.

After listening, Cao Cao paused for a moment and said, "Well written. But if Gongda were alive, he would definitely find you long-winded."

Cao Zhi was speechless.

Cao Rui stood to the side and couldn't help but laugh. But as he laughed, he felt a lump in his throat.

Xun You left. Cao Rui suddenly realized something—people of this era were leaving one by one.

Although he had changed the fate of some people, some would still leave. Cao Rui couldn't help but fall into deep thought: Who would be next?

Pang Tong did not die at Luofeng Slope; Xun Yu is still alive and well.

But what's next? Xiahou Yuan seems like a potential savior. But what about Cao Cao? Ma Chao? Jia Xu? Cao Pi?

Cao Rui dared not think about it anymore.

That night, Cao Rui sat alone in the courtyard, gazing at the stars. Bixie squatted under the eaves, holding a twig and writing on the ground.

"To ward off evil spirits."

"exist."

"Where do you think people go after they die?"

Bixie thought for a moment and said, "I don't know. But the living will remember them."

Cao Rui glanced back at him. In the moonlight, Bixie's face was still as wooden as ever, but his eyes were surprisingly bright.

"When did you learn to say things like that?"

"Taught by Mr. Pang."

"Is Mr. Pang drunk again?"

"Um."

Cao Rui smiled, a very soft smile. He turned his head and continued to look at the stars.

Xun You's death was like a bucket of cold water poured over Cao Rui's head.

Cao Cao was fifty-nine, Cao Pi was twenty-eight, and he himself was ten. Time was running out. He needed to think of a way to help them live longer.