After Xiahou Dun's (夏侯惇) single shovel of earth opened the first breath of the water-attack (水攻), two months passed quietly over the walled city of Xiapi (下邳).

When the tenth day of the first month had passed, the stream of the Sishui (泗水) reached the foot of the northern wall of Xiapi. Between the bricks beneath one corner of the wall, a thin strand of water began to seep in. That first strand left a shallow stain the width of a finger upon the floor inside the walled city.

When the twentieth day of the second month had passed, the stream of the Yishui (沂水) reached the western wall as well. The waters of the two rivers came in together around the single walled city. The stain upon the floor rose to the ankle, and the soldiers came to stand with one foot planted in water.

On the evening the second month was drawing to an end, the water had risen to the knee in sand. The horses could no longer ride inside the walled city. The Sky-Piercing Halberd (方天畵戟) of Lü Bu (呂布) could no longer be freely swung. The hem of a soldier's garment was wet grain by grain; even the smell of a single meal was spreading differently.

Lü Bu's eyes sank a grain deeper each evening. A cup of wine was often in his hand. Chen Gong (陳宮) laid up a low remonstrance. "My Lord. From today, reduce the cup of wine grain by grain. This is the period in which one grain of decision inside the tent matters most." Lü Bu laughed low. He nodded. Yet on the next evening, a cup of wine was again in his hand.

Inside the breath of those two months, the air inside the walled city of Xiapi grew heavier grain by grain. A child of the walled city coughed through one night. An old man of the walled city took his last breath one morning. A mother of the walled city ate only half a bowl of rice at noon and passed the rest into her child's bowl. Every grain of the walled city floating upon water was growing a grain shallower.

On the evening the two months ended, Chen Gong laid up another remonstrance. "My Lord. Tonight is our last decision. The condition of the walled city cannot be endured beyond this. Lay a single move tonight. A single move is in two kinds. The first is to open the gate and pour out every army, deciding the matter with Cao Cao's main army in one stroke. The second is to slip through a back gate to the west, moving only Your Lordship's body to Yuan Shao's (袁紹) Jizhou (冀州), and gathering strength once more. Choose one of the two and lay it tonight."

Lü Bu swallowed a long silence. His mouth moved low. "Gongtai. I shall lay no decision tonight. Tomorrow morning, after one more cup of wine, I shall decide." Chen Gong swallowed a low sigh. Inside his chest, an old premonition deepened a grain. "My lord's grain, by which he lays no decision tonight, will itself decide our last grain in his place."

Inside the main camp at Xudu (許都), meanwhile, Cao Cao (曹操) was tracing the breath of two months of the water-attack upon the map. Guo Jia (郭嘉) spoke low. "My Lord. The breath of two months has arrived at its end tonight. The grain of Lü Bu's tent lies upon tomorrow morning's single decision. Yet Lü Bu's grain is a grain that delays decision." Cao Cao laughed low. "That grain will lay our own decision in its place tonight."

Under the wall, beside Xiahou Dun's ditch, a soldier on night watch stood with his spear upright and watched the water in the ditch. The water tonight was darker than on the tenth day; the ditch had gathered, over two months, the mud of a river bank, the leaves of autumn, and the slow grey silt that sheets from such a plain when wet. The soldier did not speak. He only watched. Somewhere inside the walled city a lamp went out. Half a minute later, another. The soldier counted to three; then he counted no more. A soldier on a winter watch at the edge of a water-attack rarely counts beyond three. He planted his spear again and drew a breath.

In the small courtyard behind Gao Shun's tent, the mare had not eaten her evening grain. Her trough stood wet at the edge; the water had reached even the stables now. Gao Shun laid a dry sack above the trough to keep the last handful of grain dry for morning. He did not know whether the morning would permit his mare to eat. A captain whose lord has delayed a decision knows that mornings are not in his hand. He knelt beside the mare and laid his forehead upon her flank. The flank was warm. The rest of the walled city was not warm.

The seventy-second evening of Book 3 deepened quietly beneath the knee of water at Xiapi. The three characters Iwolsik (二月息, the breath of two months) were planted as a seed: the breath on which a stain at the ankle, a grain at the knee in sand, a grain of a remonstrance, and a grain that delays decision lay at one seat. The earth of Day 71's Sugong-cho (水攻初)'s single first shovel had, this evening, risen to the knee beneath the breath of two months.

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