Beneath the white stairs of the White Gate Tower (白門樓), Lü Bu’s (呂布) last breath was laid upon a single white stone.

A moment before the execution, Lü Bu sat upon that white stone beneath the tower. His two eyes looked far toward the northern sky. The grain of that sky resembled the grain of his own life. The blue sky of the Jiuyuan (九原) plain; the grain of the waves of the Yellow River (黃河); the smoke and flame of Luoyang; the knee-deep water of Xiapi (下邳): all of them lay inside that single sky.

Cao Cao (曹操) came down from the tower. Liu Bei (劉備) stood beside him. Zhang Liao (張遼) and Gao Shun (高順) stood one step behind. Chen Gong (陳宮) already lay beneath the tower at that very seat, a step ahead.

Lü Bu spoke low. “General Cao. The grain of my bow and of my horse ends today upon this white stone. Only a single request remains. Remember the evening on which a single arrow at the camp-gate (轅門) lulled two battles together. On that evening, Liu Xuande (劉玄德) was the one who survived behind my arrow.”

Liu Bei bowed his head low. “Marquis Lü Wen (呂溫侯). I shall not forget the evening at the camp-gate. Yet the grain of this seat today differs from the grain of that evening. A subject of Han cannot leave alive, beneath General Cao’s banner, a man who has taken the necks of two adoptive fathers.” Lü Bu swallowed a long breath. “I know your grain. Since this seat is such a seat, I shall lay my last breath upon this white stone.”

Cao Cao swallowed a low sigh. His mouth let slip a low word. “Marquis Lü Wen. I had wished to bring your bow and horse beneath my banner; yet the grain of this seat today does not permit that grain. Lay your breath today upon this white stone.” Lü Bu nodded. His two eyes looked, for the last time, toward the northern sky.

The executioner’s blade came down lightly upon Lü Bu’s neck. A single line of blood flowed a grain long upon the white stone. Lü Bu’s breath stopped, quietly, at the end of that line. His body tilted low upon the white stone.

Chen Gong had laid his own last breath at that same seat a step earlier. His face had turned toward Cao Cao’s. Cao Cao’s two eyes sank deep. Guo Jia (郭嘉) spoke low a step behind. “My Lord. Gongtai’s old mother and wife and children entered this morning into the protection of our Xudu. Gongtai’s grain is receiving a safe seat at Xudu today.” Cao Cao nodded.

Gao Shun stood upon the same white stone after Chen Gong. Cao Cao asked him carefully. “General Gao. Today, I wish to welcome the grain of you beneath Xudu’s banner.” After a long silence, Gao Shun answered low. “General Cao. My grain has ended together with the grain of Marquis Lü Wen. Lay my last breath together at this seat today.” After another long silence, Cao Cao nodded. Gao Shun’s last breath was laid beside, upon the same white stone.

Upon the road back to the main camp of Xudu, Cao Cao reined his horse beside Liu Bei’s. “Xuande. Today, the grain of Xiapi has been shut. From now on, the grain of Xudu will stand before all under heaven.” Liu Bei bowed his head low. His mouth let slip a low word. “General Cao. Beside the seat on which the grain of Xiapi has been shut today, the bodies of my two younger brothers have moved a grain inside the grain of Xudu. Please watch over them, for a long time, inside the grain of Xudu.” Cao Cao laughed low. “Xuande. Do not worry a grain.”

The body of Lü Bu was taken from the white stone and carried to a low grave outside the walls of Xiapi. The Sky-Piercing Halberd was not buried with him. Cao Cao gave a single instruction that the halberd be wrapped in cloth and laid inside the Xudu armory. Some weapons, once laid in a grave, go on waiting beneath the earth for a user who will never come; Cao Cao’s instruction spared the halberd from such a wait. In the next decade, the halberd would be lifted by no warrior; it would only stand in the armory’s corner and gather the dust of Xudu. That, in its own way, was the longer breath.

Diaochan was released from the side chamber at the foot of the tower. No record, in the histories or in the variants, traces what next road her step took. Some lives, having served for many seasons the tables of several larger men, step from their last chamber into a road that no counselor of any camp ever asks to follow. She stepped into the spring morning outside the walls of Xiapi; the curtain of old wheat-colored cotton was held a moment behind her by a servant’s hand, and then fell closed behind her; and from that morning onward, the pages of every camp in which her name had for a season been written go quiet about her. Some quiets, once begun, are the right kind of sheltering.

The seventy-fifth morning of Book 3 was, quietly, shutting upon the white stone of Baimenlou. The three characters Poemalsik (布末息, Lü Bu’s last breath) were planted as a seed: the breath on which a single white stone, a single line of blood, the turning of a single head, and three breaths upon one white stone lay at one seat. The stairs of Day 74’s Baekmunru (白門樓) had, this morning, been shut by three breaths upon a single white stone.

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WIA Code 스캐너로 비추면 인터넷 없이 발행 사실과 위·변조 여부를 확인할 수 있습니다.
휴대폰 기본 카메라로 찍으면 스캐너 안내 페이지가 열립니다 — 기사 바로 열기

움직이는 코드는 스트림입니다 — WIA Code 스캐너로 약 43초 비추면 기사 전문(사진 포함)이 폰에 저장되어 인터넷 없이도 읽을 수 있습니다.

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