Using my education for pr0n
I've been using my expensive education in Chinese to read fanfic between these two:
I think I tried to explain it before, but they were both military geniuses in their own ways. It's just, the guy on the left (Zhuge Liang) was all-but supernaturally gifted at it, and was really a thinker more than an actual fighter. The guy on the right (Zhou Yu) was his nemesis, really; Zhuge Liang was, in the end, responsible for his death. Zhou Yu was also a fighter of great skill in his own right, but everyone agrees that Zhuge Liang was the greater strategist. They have temples to his honour in southern China still.
Anyway... even when necessity drove them to work together, they were still trying to kill each other. Which is very very hot.
Also, so you catch the reference in the story, Zhou Yu and Zhuge Liang did a nifty thing when they were coming up for a plan to defeat their mutual enemy. They didn't trust each other not to simply wait and see what the other one would come up with, thus giving the guy who waited advantage in knowing how the planner's mind worked. So they both got together and each wrote down his plan on his palm, which they then showed to each other. They had both written "fire", and thus their side used fireships against the invading northern army and thus won the battle of Red Cliff.
And now, THE FIC. Which I totally started translating in the middle.
于是他想趁着赤壁漫天火光杀了这个东吴未来最大的威胁，杀了他的心头之刺，喉中之鲠。
可是对方却气定神闲站在那，没心每肺地笑着说，我等你来杀我。
周公瑾感觉自己被耍了个彻底。
偏偏他还心痛了。
用这个杀了我。
诸葛孔明递上一把精巧的匕首，刀柄的花纹尚留他掌心的余温。周公瑾想起他的手掌，因农事而粗糙。
清秀隽永地写着一个字。
火。
诸葛孔明闭上眼睛，他一直在等一个人，他等到了。那把曾经在他手腕划下二十三道伤痕却依旧留他在人世的匕首，终于也可以有一次产生效用了。
动手吧。
周公瑾没有动手。
诸葛孔明睁开双眼，看到那个近在咫尺的男人的眼，清晰，闪亮，映的是一张惶恐无助的脸。他低下头想他不认识那张脸。他是骄傲的，应该是这样的，全天下都在他的掌心运转，他是天下第一的……寂寞.
周公瑾的手是温暖的，并没有用狠劲，掐在他的脖子上。
周公瑾的声音有些犹豫，有些低沉，有些温柔。
诸葛孔明，你好好看着，你是一个活着的人，在这里，在我面前。你在这里，活着，在我面前，活着。
只是重复那几个字。
一遍又一遍。
不知道什么时候，周瑜松开了手。
不知道什么时候，孔明流了泪。
周瑜替他吻干，他没有反抗。
孔明的眼泪很烫。
周瑜的怀抱很温暖，有淡淡烟火的味道。
也许，不是终局。
诸葛孔明决定认真地陪这个男人玩一场游戏。游戏里他扮演蜀国的军师，而那人是吴国的都督。
他一把夺过匕首，倚着他的肩膀，刺向他的胸膛。
再次相见我们便是敌人，我断不会手下留情。
然后抽身离开，笑容阴冷而诡魅。
Zhou Yu had thought to avail himself of this night of fire-filled skies under Red Cliff to kill the greatest enemy to his homeland - to remove the thorn in his heart. His throat tightened.
When he had arrived, this man opposite him - a man who could call the very winds of the gods to do his bidding - had laughed mirthlessly and said: "At last you come to kill me."
Zhuge Liang used him as a toy in his games, even now.
And yet his heart ached in his breast.
"Use this to kill me." Zhuge Liang brought out a beautifully wrought dagger, the traced patterns in the handle still warm from his hand as yielded it over to his enemy. Zhou Yu thought of Liang's palm, coarsened by a life in rural isolation.
And the delicate writing of one word in that palm:
"Fire".
Zhuge Liang closed his eyes. He had spent his life waiting for one man, and he had arrived. That dagger had already left 23 scars upon his wrists, that dagger which had yet left him in the land of the living, at last could fulfil its true purpose (I am unsure about this sentence).
"Strike."
Zhou Yu did not strike.
Zhuge Liang opened his eyes, staring into the eyes of the man who stood less than a foot from him. Those eyes were clear and bright, and the face reflected in their depths looked terrified and helpless. Liang looked away, not knowing the face reflected back at him. He had his pride! It must be this way! Surely every man under heaven's arch knew that, in all the world, he was the most... alone.
Zhou Yu's hands were warm, and gently, the warrior grasped Zhuge Liang's neck.
His voice was hesitant and it was despairing, yet it was tender:
"Zhuge Liang, look you: you are alive, you are here, and you are with me. You are alive, you are here, and you are with me." And he repeated it, over and over.
Unknown is the time when Zhou Yu loosened his grasp.
Unknown is the time when the first tear flowed down Zhuge Liang's cheek.
But Yu kissed those tears from Liang's cheek, and Liang did not resist. Liang's tears were scalding, and Yu's embrace smelt of gunpowder.
Perhaps this is not the end.
Zhuge Liang's resolve came suddenly; he would play another game with this man.
Lightning quick, Liang snatched his dagger back from Yu and grabbed the man's shoulder, pulling him in close and stabbing his chest with the elaborate blade.
"When we next meet, we shall be enemies. I shall not be merciful."
Liang left, smiling a demon's cold, mirthless smile.
/END TRANS
May trans more or even the whole thing if anyone expresses interest. And hell, I may even try to translate it better! But for those of you who want more and can read Chinese, the original is here:
«游戏» 作者：冰川纪亲妈
If you just want more Zhou/Zhuge fic, here are some search results from the same site.
I think I tried to explain it before, but they were both military geniuses in their own ways. It's just, the guy on the left (Zhuge Liang) was all-but supernaturally gifted at it, and was really a thinker more than an actual fighter. The guy on the right (Zhou Yu) was his nemesis, really; Zhuge Liang was, in the end, responsible for his death. Zhou Yu was also a fighter of great skill in his own right, but everyone agrees that Zhuge Liang was the greater strategist. They have temples to his honour in southern China still.
Anyway... even when necessity drove them to work together, they were still trying to kill each other. Which is very very hot.
Also, so you catch the reference in the story, Zhou Yu and Zhuge Liang did a nifty thing when they were coming up for a plan to defeat their mutual enemy. They didn't trust each other not to simply wait and see what the other one would come up with, thus giving the guy who waited advantage in knowing how the planner's mind worked. So they both got together and each wrote down his plan on his palm, which they then showed to each other. They had both written "fire", and thus their side used fireships against the invading northern army and thus won the battle of Red Cliff.
And now, THE FIC. Which I totally started translating in the middle.
于是他想趁着赤壁漫天火光杀了这个东吴未来最大的威胁，杀了他的心头之刺，喉中之鲠。
可是对方却气定神闲站在那，没心每肺地笑着说，我等你来杀我。
周公瑾感觉自己被耍了个彻底。
偏偏他还心痛了。
用这个杀了我。
诸葛孔明递上一把精巧的匕首，刀柄的花纹尚留他掌心的余温。周公瑾想起他的手掌，因农事而粗糙。
清秀隽永地写着一个字。
火。
诸葛孔明闭上眼睛，他一直在等一个人，他等到了。那把曾经在他手腕划下二十三道伤痕却依旧留他在人世的匕首，终于也可以有一次产生效用了。
动手吧。
周公瑾没有动手。
诸葛孔明睁开双眼，看到那个近在咫尺的男人的眼，清晰，闪亮，映的是一张惶恐无助的脸。他低下头想他不认识那张脸。他是骄傲的，应该是这样的，全天下都在他的掌心运转，他是天下第一的……寂寞.
周公瑾的手是温暖的，并没有用狠劲，掐在他的脖子上。
周公瑾的声音有些犹豫，有些低沉，有些温柔。
诸葛孔明，你好好看着，你是一个活着的人，在这里，在我面前。你在这里，活着，在我面前，活着。
只是重复那几个字。
一遍又一遍。
不知道什么时候，周瑜松开了手。
不知道什么时候，孔明流了泪。
周瑜替他吻干，他没有反抗。
孔明的眼泪很烫。
周瑜的怀抱很温暖，有淡淡烟火的味道。
也许，不是终局。
诸葛孔明决定认真地陪这个男人玩一场游戏。游戏里他扮演蜀国的军师，而那人是吴国的都督。
他一把夺过匕首，倚着他的肩膀，刺向他的胸膛。
再次相见我们便是敌人，我断不会手下留情。
然后抽身离开，笑容阴冷而诡魅。
Zhou Yu had thought to avail himself of this night of fire-filled skies under Red Cliff to kill the greatest enemy to his homeland - to remove the thorn in his heart. His throat tightened.
When he had arrived, this man opposite him - a man who could call the very winds of the gods to do his bidding - had laughed mirthlessly and said: "At last you come to kill me."
Zhuge Liang used him as a toy in his games, even now.
And yet his heart ached in his breast.
"Use this to kill me." Zhuge Liang brought out a beautifully wrought dagger, the traced patterns in the handle still warm from his hand as yielded it over to his enemy. Zhou Yu thought of Liang's palm, coarsened by a life in rural isolation.
And the delicate writing of one word in that palm:
"Fire".
Zhuge Liang closed his eyes. He had spent his life waiting for one man, and he had arrived. That dagger had already left 23 scars upon his wrists, that dagger which had yet left him in the land of the living, at last could fulfil its true purpose (I am unsure about this sentence).
"Strike."
Zhou Yu did not strike.
Zhuge Liang opened his eyes, staring into the eyes of the man who stood less than a foot from him. Those eyes were clear and bright, and the face reflected in their depths looked terrified and helpless. Liang looked away, not knowing the face reflected back at him. He had his pride! It must be this way! Surely every man under heaven's arch knew that, in all the world, he was the most... alone.
Zhou Yu's hands were warm, and gently, the warrior grasped Zhuge Liang's neck.
His voice was hesitant and it was despairing, yet it was tender:
"Zhuge Liang, look you: you are alive, you are here, and you are with me. You are alive, you are here, and you are with me." And he repeated it, over and over.
Unknown is the time when Zhou Yu loosened his grasp.
Unknown is the time when the first tear flowed down Zhuge Liang's cheek.
But Yu kissed those tears from Liang's cheek, and Liang did not resist. Liang's tears were scalding, and Yu's embrace smelt of gunpowder.
Perhaps this is not the end.
Zhuge Liang's resolve came suddenly; he would play another game with this man.
Lightning quick, Liang snatched his dagger back from Yu and grabbed the man's shoulder, pulling him in close and stabbing his chest with the elaborate blade.
"When we next meet, we shall be enemies. I shall not be merciful."
Liang left, smiling a demon's cold, mirthless smile.
/END TRANS
May trans more or even the whole thing if anyone expresses interest. And hell, I may even try to translate it better! But for those of you who want more and can read Chinese, the original is here:
«游戏» 作者：冰川纪亲妈
If you just want more Zhou/Zhuge fic, here are some search results from the same site.