thewrathofheaven:

“That is where you are wrong.” The response was immediate; sharp and intentionally jarring. And it was true, in regards to several concerns. There were many ways in which one may learn from their mistakes; one of which was to study the past in preparation for the future through tactics of war and strategy. Stratagems could be learned from texts, and of course experience, but it also came from understanding others. Their own plans and motivations for one, and second to that was considering how their minds worked. Personality played a large part in it as well, as it often dictated what kind of tactics would be deployed. That was the art of war, or a fraction of it, though it was not necessarily the point Cao Cao intended to nail down.

“Considering the thoughts and aspirations of others provides insight.” Like Guo Jia, for an example. What would his take on their current situation be were he alive and well? Would he have suggested aught else, or would it have all fallen into place? “–And if you truly strive for betterment, my son, I suggest that you begin there.” And yes, while the comparison of his two sons was unjust, never once had he expressed that Pi become anything than less than he saw fit.

“Were he still with us, you would still be by my side, providing your interest in furthering the future of Wei were, indeed, still applicable.” He glanced at Cao Pi from the corner of his eye, picking out only pieces of his son’s apathy before his own gaze returned to the quickly-setting sun. 

     “Your time in the sun or shadow is wholly
      dependent no one but yourself.”

     It was not an unexpected response, but still one that would garner Cao Pi’s full attention. He was not about to question his father’s words – he was right, more than right about it. Still he knew not where to begin in doing such a thing, for he did not have the mindset of others. It proposed a challenge to begin to emulate any of them. It would certainly take some time to consider, long after the battle was won; but he was certain that with how his father expressed it, it was imperative for his future.

     In truth he hated to think of those lost. The reminder of finality, of never seeing them again, often brought a feeling of regret to him – it was perhaps one reason he avoided considering them. Even so, his expression went from that of certainty to humbled by his father’s insight. His mind wandered far from where they stood, to the distant memories of his brother; but not what of he would have done were he here. He could not if he wanted to.

     What troubled him was that not only could he not presume an answer to his internal question, but the realization came to him that he could hardly recall anything of his brother any longer. He knew with the utmost of certainty that Ang had a heart of gold, yet memories of it did not remain – a blurred smile, a voice he could no longer recognize. Remembering words spoken to him, but not the tone of which they had been said. Eleven years had passed since then, and Cao Pi was now almost the same age as his brother was when he had perished.

     He was hesitant to speak his name as though a forbidden word, lips having parted long before any word was uttered. “You knew Zixiu far more than I, yet seldom do you speak of him. Were he with us, would he be confident in our position, or cautiously optimistic?”