# San Kuo/Volume 1/Chapter 23

CHAPTER XXIII.
Mi Heng Slips his Garment and Rails at Traitors: Cruel Punishment of the Physician Chi.
At the close of the last chapter the two unsuccessful leaders Liu and Wang were in danger of death. However, one of the advisers, K‘ung Jung, remonstrated with Tsʻao saying, “You knew these two were no match for Liu Pei and if you put them to death because they failed you will lose the hearts of your men.”
Wherefore the death sentence was not executed but they were deprived of rank and status. Tsʻao next proposed to lead an army himself to attack Liu Pei, but the weather was too inclement. So it was settled to await the return of spring. In the interval there would be time to arrange peace with Chang Hsiu and Liu Piao.
Wherefore Liu Yeh was sent to the former of these and in due time reached Hsiangchʻêng. He first had an interview with Chia Hsü, whereat he dwelt upon Tsʻao’s virtues so that Hsü was impressed, kept him as a guest and undertook to smooth his way.
Soon after he saw Chang Hsiu and spoke of the advantages of coming to terms with Tsʻao Tsʻao. While the discussion was in progress a messenger from Yüan Shao was announced and he was called in. He presented letters and, when they also proposed terms of peace, Chia Hsü asked what their success had been lately against Tsʻao.
“The war had ceased for the moment on account of the winter,” replied the messenger. “As you, General, and Liu Piao are both well reputed officers of the State, I have been sent to request your help.”
Chia Hsü laughed, “You can return to your master and say that as he could not brook rivalry of his brother he certainly would be sorely put to it with that of all the officers of the State.”
The letter was torn into fragments before the messenger’s face and he was angrily bidden begone.
“But his master, Yüan Shao, is stronger than Tsʻao Tsʻao,” protested Chang Hsiu. “You have torn up his letter and are dismissing his man. What shall we say about such an insult should Yüan Shao come?”
“Better join hands with Tsʻao Tsʻao,” said Chia Hsü.
​“But there is still between us an unavenged enmity, we could not suffer each other.”
Chia Hsü said, “There are three advantages in joining hands with Tsʻao. First, he has a command from the Emperor to restore peace. Secondly, as Yüan Shao is so strong our little help to him will be despised, while we shall loom large and be well treated by Tsʻao Tsʻao. Thirdly, Tsʻao is going to be Chief of the Feudal Lords and he will ignore all private feuds in order to show his magnanimity to all the world. I hope, General, you will see these things clearly and hesitate no longer.”
Chang Hsiu, now convinced, became more reasonable and recalled the messenger, who, at the interview, extolled the many virtues of his master. “If the Minister had any thought of the old quarrel he would hardly have sent me to make friendly engagements: would he?” said he at the last.
So Chang and his adviser proceeded to the capital where formal submission was made. At the interview the visitor bowed low at the steps, but Tsʻao Tsʻao, hastening forward, took him by the hand and raised him saying, “Forget that little fault of mine, I pray you.”
Chang Hsiu received the title of Yang-wu General (“Prowess-in-War” General) and Chia Hsü that of Chih Chin-wu (Controller of the Ways).
Tsʻao then directed his secretaries to draft letters inviting the support of Liu Piao.
Chia Hsü said, “Liu Ching-shêng loves to have to do with famous people. If some famous scholar should be sent to him he would submit forthwith.”
So Tsʻao enquired of Hsün Yu who was the best man to go as a messenger and he recommended K‘ung Jung. Tsʻao agreed and sent him to speak with this officer. So he went to K‘ung, saying, “A scholar of reputation is required to act as a messenger of State; can you undertake this task?”
Kʻung Jung replied, “I have a certain friend, Mi Hêng, whose talents are ten times mine. He ought to be constantly at the Court of the Emperor and not merely be sent as a State messenger. I will recommend him to the Emperor.”
So he wrote the following memorial:—
“In ancient days, when the great waters were abroad, the Emperor pondered over their regulation and he sought out men of talent from all directions. In old time, when the Emperor Wu of the Hans desired to enlarge his borders, crowds of scholars responded to his call.
“Intelligent and holy, Your Majesty ascended the throne. You have fallen upon evil days, but have been diligent, modest and untiring in your efforts. Now the great mountains have sent forth spirits and men of genius appear.
​“I, your humble servant, know of a certain simple scholar, Mi Hêng by name, of P‘ingyüan, a young man of twenty-four. His moral character is excellent, his talents eminent. As a youth he took a high place in study and penetrated the most secret arcana of learning. What he glanced at he could repeat, what he heard once he never forgot. He is naturally high principled and his thoughts are divine. Hung-yang’s mental calculations and An-shih’s mnemonical feats compared with Mi Hêng’s powers are no longer wonderful. Loyal, sincere, correct and straight-forward, his ambition is unsullied. He regards the good with trembling respect, he detests the evil with uncompromising hatred. Jên Tso in unflinching candour, Shih Yü in severe rectitude, never surpassed him.
“Hundreds of hawks are not worth one osprey. If Mi Hêng be given a Court appointment notable results must follow. Ready in debate, rapid in utterance, his overwhelming intelligence wells up in profusion; in the solution of doubts and the unravelling of difficulties he has no peer.
“In former days Chia I begged to be sent on trial to a vassal State to be responsible for the arrest of Shan Yü; Chung Chün offered to bring the Prince of Nanyüeh as with a pair of long reins. The generous conduct of these youths has been much admired. In our day Lu Tsui and Yen Hsiang, remarkable for their talents, have been appointed among the secretaries. And Mi Hêng is no less capable. Should he be got, then all possibilities may be realised; the dragon may curvet through the celestial streets and soar along the Milky Way; fame will extend to the poles of the universe and hang in the firmament with rainbow glory. He would be the glory of all the present Ministers and enhance the majesty of the Palace itself. The air Chun-t‘ien will acquire new beauties and the Palace will contain an excellent treasure. Men like Mi Hêng are but few. As in the recitation of Chi-ch‘u and the singing of Yang-o the most skilful performers are sought, and such fleet horses as Fei-t‘u and Yao-miao were looked for by the famous judges of horses, Wang Liang and Pai Lo, so I, the humble one, dare not conceal this man. Your Majesty is careful in the selection of servants and should try him. Let him be summoned as he is, simply clad in his serge dress, and should he not appear worthy then may I be punished for the fault of deception.”
The Emperor read the memorial and passed it to his Minister, who duly summoned Mi Hêng. He came, but after his formal salutations were over he was left standing and not invited to sit down. Looking up to heaven he sighed deeply, saying, “Wide as is the universe it cannot produce the man.”
“Under my orders are scores of men whom the world call heroes. What do you mean by saying there is not the man?” said Ts‘ao.
“I should be glad to hear who they are,” said Mi.
​“Hsün Yü and Hsün Yu, Kuo Chia and Ch‘êng Yü are all men of profound skill and long views, superior to Hsiao Ho and Ch‘ên P‘ing; Chang Liao and Hsü Chu, Li Tien and Yo Chin are bravest of the brave, better than Tsên P‘êng and Ma Wu. Lü Ch‘ien and Man Ch‘ung are my secretaries, Yü Chin and Hsü Huang are my van-leaders; Hsiahou Tun is one of the world’s marvels and Ts‘ao Tzŭ-hsiao is the most successful leader of the age. Now say you there are not the men?”
“Sir, you are quite mistaken,” said Mi Hêng with a smile. “I know all these things you call men. Hsün Yü is qualified to pose at a funeral or ask after a sick man. Hsün Yu is fit to be a tomb guardian. Ch‘êng Yü might be sent to shut doors and bolt windows, and Kuo Chia is a reciter of poems; Chang Liao might beat drums and clang gongs; Hsü Chu might lead cattle to pasture; Yo Chin would make a fair confidential clerk of the Court; Li Tien could carry despatches and notices; Lü Ch‘ien would be a fair armourer; Man Ch‘ung could be sent to drink wine and eat brewers’ grains; Yü Chin might be of use to carry planks and build walls; Hsü Huang might be employed to kill pigs and slay dogs; Hsiahou Tun should be styled ‘Whole Body’ General and Ts‘ao Tzŭ-hsiao should be called ‘Money-grubbing Prefect.’ As for the remainder, they are mere clothes-horses, rice-sacks, wine butts, flesh bags.”
“And what special gifts have you?” said Ts‘ao Ts‘ao angrily.
“I know everything in heaven above and the earth beneath. I am conversant with the Three Religions and the Nine Systems of Philosophy. I could make my prince the rival of Yao and Shun and I myself could compare in virtue with K‘ung and Yen. Can I discuss on even terms with common people?”
Now Chang Liao was present and he raised his sword to strike down the impudent visitor who spoke thus to his master, but Ts‘ao Ts‘ao said, “I want another drummer boy to play on occasions of congratulation in the Court. I will confer this office upon him.”
Instead of indignantly declining this Mi Hêng accepted the position and went out.
“He spoke very impertinently,” said Liao; “Why did you not put him to death?”
“He has something of a reputation; empty, but people have heard of him and so, if I put him to death, they would say I was intolerant. As he thinks he has ability I have made him a drummer to mortify him.”
Soon after Tsʻao instituted a banquet in the capital at which the guests were many. The drums were to be played and the old drummers were ordered to wear new clothes. But the new drummer took his place with the other musicians clad in old and worn garments. The piece chosen was Yü-yang ( or “Fishing”) and from the earliest taps on the drum the effect was exquisite, profound as the notes from metal and stone. ​The performance stirred deeply the emotions of every guest, some even shed tears. Seeing all eyes turned on the shabby performer the attendants said, “Why did you not put on your new uniform?”
Mi Hêng turned to them, slipped off his frayed and torn robe and stood there in full view, naked as he was born. The assembled guests covered their faces. Then the drummer composedly drew on his nether garments.
“Why do you behave so rudely at Court?” said Ts‘ao Ts‘ao.
“To flout one’s prince and insult one’s superiors is the real rudeness,” cried Mi Hêng. “I bare my natural body as an emblem of my purity.”
“So you are pure! And who is foul?”
“You do not distinguish between the wise and the foolish; which is to have foul vision; you have never read the Odes or the Histories, which is to have foul speech; you are deaf to honest words, which is to have foul ears; you are unable to reconcile antiquity with to-day, which is to be foul without; you cannot tolerate the nobles, which is to be foul within; you harbour thoughts of rebellion, which is to have a foul heart. I am the most famous scholar in the world and you make me a drummer boy, that is as Yang Huo belittling Chung-ni (Confucius) or Tsang Ts‘ang vilifying Mêng, the Philosopher (Mencius). You desire to be chief and arbitrator of the great nobles, yet you treat me thus!”
Now K‘ung Jung who had recommended Mi Hêng for employment was among the guests and he feared for the life of his friend. Wherefore he tried to calm the storm.
“Mi Hêng is only guilty of a misdemeanour like Hsü Mi’s,” cried he. “He is not a man likely to disturb your dreams, illustrious Prince.”
Pointing to Mi Hêng the Minister said, “I will send you to Chingchou as my messenger and if Liu Piao surrender to me I will give you a post at Court.”
But Hêng was unwilling to go. So Ts‘ao Ts‘ao bade two of his men prepare three horses and they set Hêng on the middle one and dragged him along the road between them.
It is also related that a great number of officers of all ranks assembled at the east gate to see the messenger start. Hsün Yü said, “When Mi Hêng comes we will not rise to salute him.”
So when Hêng came, dismounted and entered the waiting room, they all sat stiff and silent. Mi Hêng uttered a loud cry.
“What is that for?” said Hsün Yü.
“Should not one cry out when one enters a coffin?” said Mi Hêng.
“We may be corpses,” cried they altogether, “but you are a wandering ghost.”
“I am a Minister of Han and not a partizan of Ts‘ao’s,” cried he. “You cannot say I have no head.”
​They were angry enough to kill him, but Hsün Yü checked them. “He is a paltry fellow, it is not worth soiling your blades with his blood.”
“I am paltry, am I? Yet I have the soul of a man and you are mere worms,” said Mi Hêng.
They went their ways all very angry. Mi Hêng went on his journey and presently reached Chingchou, where he saw Liu Piao. After that, under pretence of extolling his virtue, he lampooned Piao, who was annoyed and sent him to Chianghsia to see Huang Tsu.
“Why did you not put the fellow to death for lampooning you?” said one to Liu Piao.
“You see he shamed Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, but Ts‘ao did not kill him as he feared to lose popular favour. So he sent him to me, thinking to borrow my hand to slay him and so suffer the loss of my good name. I have sent him on to Huang Tsu to let Ts‘ao see that I understood.”
His clever caution met with general praise. At that time a messenger from Yüan Shao was also there with certain proposals for an alliance and it was necessary to decide which side to espouse. All the advisers came together to consider the question. Then the secretary, Han Sung, said, “As you have now two offers you can please yourself and choose your own way to destroy your enemies, for if one refuse you can follow the other. Now Ts‘ao Ts‘ao is an able general and has many capable men in his train. It looks as though he may destroy Yüan Shao and then move his armies across the river. I fear, General, you would be unable then to withstand him. That being so it would be wise to support Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, who will treat you with respect.”
Liu Piao replied, “You go to the capital and see how things tend. That will help me to decide.”
Han Sung said, “The positions of master and servant are clearly defined. Now I am your man prepared to go all lengths for you and obey you to the last, whether in serving the Emperor or in following Ts‘ao Ts‘ao. But lest there should be any doubt you must remember that if the Emperor gives me any office then I shall become his servant and shall not be ready to face death for you.”
“You go and find out what you can. I have ideas in my mind.”
So Han Sung took his leave and went to the capital, where he saw Tsʻao. Ts‘ao gave him rank and made him Prefect of Lingling. The adviser Hsün Yü remonstrated, saying, “This man came to spy out how things were moving. He has done nothing to deserve reward and yet you give him an office like this. There were no such suspicious rumours connected with poor Mi Hêng and yet you sent him off and would never test his powers.”
​“Mi Hêng shamed me too deeply before all the world. I am going to borrow Liu Piao’s hand to remove him. And you need say no more,” said Ts‘ao.
Then Ts‘ao sent Han Sung back to his former master to tell him what had happened. He came and was full of praise for the virtues of the Court and was keen on persuading Piao to espouse that side. Then Liu Piao suddenly turned angry, charged him with treachery and threatened him with death.
“You turn your back on me;” cried Han Sung. “I did not betray you.”
K‘uai Liang remarked that Han Sung had foretold this possibility before he left, it was only what he expected. Liu Piao, who was just and reasonable, went no further.
Presently came the news that Mi Hêng had been put to death by Huang Tsu on account of a quarrel begun over the wine cups. Both being worse for liquor they had begun to discuss the worth of people.
“You were born in Hsütu,” said Huang. “Who was there of worth?”
“The big boy was K‘ung Jung and the little on Yang Tê-tsu. There was no one else to count.”
“What am I like?” said Huang.
“You are like a god in a temple; you sit still and receive sacrifice, but the lack of intelligence is pitiful.”
“Do you regard me as a mere image?” cried Huang Tsu, angry.
So he put the impudent speaker to death. Even at the very point of death Mi never ceased his railing and abuse.
“Alas!” sighed Liu Piao, when he heard of his fate. He had the victim honourably interred near Yingwuchou. And a later poet wrote of him:—
Huang Tsu could brook no rival; at his word Mi Hêng met death beneath the cruel sword. His grave on Parrot Isle may yet be seen, The river flowing past it, coldly green.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao heard of the young man’s death with pleasure. “The putrid bookwork has just cut himself up with his own sharp tongue,” said he.
As there was no sign of Liu Piao coming to join him, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao began to think of coercion. The adviser, Hsün Yü, dissuaded him from this course.
Said he, “Yüan Shao is not subjugated, Liu Pei is not destroyed. To attack Liu Piao would be to neglect the vital to care for the immaterial. Destroy the two chief enemies first and Chiang-han is yours at one blow.”
And Ts‘ao Ts‘ao took the advice.
After the departure of Yüan-tê, Tung Ch‘êng and his fellow conspirators did nothing else day or night but try to evolve ​plans for the destruction of their enemy. But they could see no chance to attack. At the new year audience Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was odiously arrogant and overweening and the chief conspirator’s disgust was so intense that he fell ill. Hearing of his indisposition the Emperor sent the Court physician to see his “State Uncle.”
The Court physician at this time was a native of Loyang, named Chi T‘ai, more commonly known as Chi P‘ing. He was very famous. He devoted himself wholly to the treatment of his Court patient. Living in his Palace and seeing him at all times he soon found that some secret grief was sorely troubling Tung Ch‘êng. But he dared not ask questions.
One evening, when the physician was just taking his leave, Tung Ch‘êng kept him and the two men had supper together. They sat talking for some time and Tung by and by dropped off to sleep dressed as he was.
Presently Wang Tzŭ-fu and the others were announced. As they were coming in Wang cried, “Our business is settled!”
“I should be glad to hear how,” said Tung.
“Liu Piao has joined Yüan Shao and fifty legions are on their way here by different routes. More than this, Ma T‘êng and Han Sui are coming from the north with seventy-two legions. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao has moved every soldier outside Hsütu to meet the combined armies. There is a great banquet in the Palace to night and if we get together our young men and slaves, we can muster more than a thousand, and we can surround the palace, while Ts‘ao Ts‘ao is at the banquet, and finish him off. We must not miss this.”
Tung Ch‘êng was more than delighted. He called his slaves and armed them, put on his own armour and mounted his horse. The conspirators met, as they had arranged, just at the inner gate. It was the first watch. The small army marched straight in, Tung Ch‘êng leading with his sword drawn. His intended victim was at table in one of the private rooms. Tung rushed in crying, “Tsʻao you rebel, stay!” and dashed at Ts‘ao Ts‘ao who fell at the first blow.
And just then he woke up and found it was all a dream, a dream as unreal as that of life in the kingdom of the ants. But his mouth was still full of curses.
“Do you really wish to destroy Ts‘ao Ts‘ao?” said Chi P‘ing, going forward to his half awakened patient.
This brought him to his senses. Tung stopped, terror stricken, and made no reply.
“Do not be frightened, O Uncle,” said the doctor, “Although I am a physician I am also a man, and I never forget my Emperor. You have seemed sad for many days but I have never ventured to ask the reason. Now you have shown it in your dream and I know your real feelings. If I can be of any use I will help. Nothing can daunt me.”
​Tung Ch‘êng covered his face and wept. “I fear you may not be true to me,” cried he.
Chi P‘ing at once bit off a finger as a pledge of his faith. And then his host and patient brought forth the decree he had received in the girdle. “I am afraid our schemes will come to nought,” said he. “Liu Yüan-tê and Ma T‘êng are gone and there is nothing we can do. That was the real reason I fell ill.”
“It is not worth troubling you gentlemen with; for Ts‘ao’s life lies in these hands of mine,” said Chi P‘ing.
“How can that be?”
“Because he is often ill with deep-seated pain in his head. When this comes on he sends for me. When next he calls me I only have to give him one dose and he will certainly die. We do not want any weapons.”
“If only you could do it! You would be the saviour of the Dynasty; it depends upon you.”
Then Chi P‘ing went away leaving his late patient a happy man. Tung strolled into the garden and there he saw one of his slaves, Tsʻin Ch‘ing-t‘ung, whispering with one of the waiting maids in a dark corner. This annoyed him and he called his attendants to seize them. He would have put them to death but for the intervention of his wife. At her request he spared their lives but both were beaten, and the lad was thrown into a dungeon. Sulky at his treatment the slave broke out of the cell in the night, climbed over the wall and went straight to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s palace, where he betrayed the conspiracy.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao at once had him taken into a secret chamber and questioned him. He gave the names of the conspirators and told as much as he knew of their doings. He said his master had a piece of white silk, with writing on it, but he did not know what it meant. Lately Chi P‘ing had bitten off one of his fingers as a pledge of fidelity. He had seen that.
The runaway slave was kept in a secret part of the Palace while his late master, only knowing that he had run away, took no special means to find him.
Soon after this Ts‘ao feigned a headache and sent for Chi P‘ing as usual.
“The rebel is done for,” thought Chi P‘ing, and he made a secret package of poison which he took with him to the palace of the Minister. He found Ts‘ao in bed. The patient bade the doctor prepare a potion for him.
“One draught will cure this disease,” said P‘ing. He bade them bring him a pipkin and he prepared the potion in the room. When it had simmered for some time and was half finished the poison was added, and soon after the physician presented the draught. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, knowing it was poisoned, made excuses and would not swallow it.
​“You should take it hot,” said the doctor. “Then there will be a gentle perspiration and you will be better.”
“You are a scholar,” said Ts'ao, sitting up, “and know what is the correct thing to do. When the master is ill and takes drugs, the attendant first tastes them; when a man is ill, his son first tastes the medicine. You are my confidant and should drink first. Then I will swallow the remainder.”
“Medicine is to treat disease; what is the use of any one’s tasting it?” said P‘ing. But he guessed now the conspiracy had been discovered so he dashed forward, seized Ts‘ao Ts‘ao by the ear and tried to pour the potion down his throat. Ts‘ao pushed it away and it spilt. The bricks upon which it fell were split asunder. Before Ts‘ao Ts‘ao could speak his servants had already seized his assailant.
Said Ts‘ao, “I am not ill: I only wanted to test you. So you really thought to poison me.”
He sent for a score of sturdy gaolers who carried off the prisoner to the inner apartments to be interrogated. Ts‘ao took his seat in a pavilion and the hapless physician, tightly bound, was thrown to the ground before him. The prisoner maintained a bold front.
Ts‘ao said, “I thought you were a physician; how dared you try to poison me? Some one incited you to this crime and if you tell me I will pardon you.”
“You are a rebel; you flout your Prince and injure your betters. The whole world wishes to kill you. Do you think I am the only one?”
Ts‘ao again and again pressed the prisoner to tell what he knew, but he only replied that no one had sent him; it was his own desire.
“And I have failed and I can but die,” added he.
Ts‘ao angrily bade the gaolers give him a severe beating and they flogged him for two watches. His skin hung in tatters, the flesh was battered and the blood from his wounds ran down the steps. Then fearing he might die and his evidence be lost, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao bade them cease and remove him. They took him off to a quiet place where he might recover somewhat.
Having issued orders to prepare a banquet for next day Ts‘ao invited all the conspirators thereto. Tung Ch‘êng was the only one who excused himself, saying he was unwell. The others dared not stay away as they felt they would be suspected.
Tables were laid in the private apartments and after several courses the host said, “There is not much to amuse us to-day but I have a man to show you that will sober you.”
“Bring him in,” he said, turning to the gaolers, and the hapless Chi P‘ing appeared, securely fastened in a wooden collar. He was placed where all could see him.
​“You officials do not know that this man is connected with a gang of evil doers who desire to overturn the government and even injure me. However Heaven has defeated their plans, but I desire that you should hear his evidence.”
Then Ts‘ao ordered the lictors to beat their prisoner. They did so till he lay unconscious, when they revived him by spraying water over his face. As soon as he came to he glared at his oppressor and ground his teeth.
“Ts‘ao Ts‘ao you rebel! what are you waiting for? Why not kill me?” cried Chi.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao replied, “The conspirators were only six at first; you made the seventh.”
Here the prisoner broke in with more abuse, while Wang Tzŭ-fu and the others exchanged glances looking as though they were sitting on a rug full of needles. Ts‘ao continued his torture of the prisoner, beating him into unconsciousness and reviving him with cold water, the victim disdaining to ask mercy. Finally Ts‘ao realised he would incriminate none of his accomplices and so he told the gaolers to remove him.
At the close of the banquet, when the guests were dispersing, four of them, the four conspirators, were invited to remain behind to supper. They were terrified so that their souls seemed no longer to inhabit their bodies, but there was no saying nay to the invitation. Presently Ts‘ao Ts‘ao said, “Still there is something I want to speak about so I have asked you to stay for a time longer. I do not know what you four have been arranging with Tung Ch‘êng.”
“Nothing at all,” said Wang.
“And what is written on the white silk?” asked Ts‘ao.
They all said they knew nothing about it.
Then Ts‘ao ordered the runaway slave to be brought in. As soon as he came Wang said, “Well, what have you seen and where?”
The slave Ch‘ing-t‘ung replied, “You six very carefully chose retired places to talk in and you secretly signed a white roll. You cannot deny that.”
Wang replied, “This miserable creature was punished for misbehaviour with one of Uncle Tung’s maids and now because of that he slanders his master. You must not listen to him.”
“Chi P‘ing tried to pour poison down my throat. Who told him to do that if it was not Tung?”
They all said they knew nothing about who it was.
“So far,” said Ts‘ao, “matters are only beginning and there is a chance of forgiveness. But if the thing grows, it will be difficult not to take notice of it.”
The whole four vigorously denied that any plot existed. However Ts‘ao called up his henchmen and the four men were put into confinement.
​Next day Ts‘ao Ts‘ao with a large following went to the State Uncle’s Palace to ask after his health. Ch‘êng came out to receive his visitor, who at once said, “Why did you not come last night?”
“I am not quite well yet and have to be very careful about going out,” replied Ch‘êng.
“One might say you were suffering from national sorrow, eh?” said Ts‘ao.
Ch‘êng started. Ts‘ao continued, “Have you heard of the Chi P‘ing affair?”
“No; what is it?”
Ts‘ao smiled coldly. “How can it be you do not know?”
Ts‘ao turned to his attendants and told them to bring in the prisoner while he went on talking to his host about his illness.
Tung Ch‘êng was much put about and knew not what to do. Soon the gaolers led in the physician to the steps of the hall. At once the bound man began to rail at Ts‘ao as rebel and traitor.
“This man,” said Ts‘ao, pointing to Chi P‘ing, “has implicated Wang Tzŭ-fu and three others, all of whom are now under arrest. There is one more whom I have not caught yet.”
“Who sent you to poison me?” continued he, turning toward the physician. “Quick, tell me.”
“Heaven sent me to slay a traitor.”
Ts‘ao angrily ordered them to beat him again, but there was no part of his body that could be beaten. Tung Ch‘êng sat looking at him, his heart feeling as if transfixed with a dagger.
“You were born with ten fingers; how is it you have now only nine?”
Chi P‘ing replied, “I bit off one as a pledge when I swore to slay a traitor.”
Ts‘ao told them to bring a knife and they lopped off his other nine fingers.
“Now they are all off; that will teach you to make pledges.”
“Still I have a mouth that can swallow a traitor and a tongue that can curse him,” said Chi P‘ing.
Ts‘ao told them to cut out his tongue.
Chi P‘ing said, “Do not. I cannot endure any more punishment I shall have to speak out. Loosen my bonds.”
“Loose them. There is no reason why not,” said Ts‘ao.
They loosed him. As soon as he was free Chi P‘ing stood up, turned his face toward the Emperor’s Palace and bowed, saying, “It is Heaven’s will that thy servant has been unable to remove the evil,” then he turned and fell dead on the steps.
His body was quartered and exposed.
​This happened in the first month of the fifth year of “Established Tranquillity” and a certain historian wrote a poem:—
There lived in Han a simple leech. No warrior, yet brave Enough to risk his very life His Emperor to save. Alas! he failed; but lasting fame Is his; he feared not death; He cursed the traitorous Minister Unto his latest breath.
Seeing his victim had passed beyond the realm of punishment Ts‘ao had the slave led in.
“Do you know this man, Uncle?”
“Yes,” cried Tung Ch‘êng. “So the runaway slave is here; he ought to be put to death.”
“He just told me of your treachery; he is my witness,” said Ts‘ao. “Who would dare kill him?”
“How can you, the first Minister of State, heed the unsupported tale of an absconding slave?”
“But I have Wang and the others in prison,” said Ts‘ao Ts‘ao. “And how can you rebut their evidence?”
He then called in the remainder of his followers and ordered them to search Tung Ch‘êng’s bedroom. They did so and found the decree that had been given him in the girdle and the pledge signed by the conspirators.
“You mean rat!” cried Ts‘ao, “you dared do this?”
He gave orders to arrest the whole household without exception. Then he returned to his Palace with the incriminating documents and called all his advisers together to discuss the dethronement of the Emperor and the setting up of a successor.
Many decrees, blood written, have issued, accomplishing nothing One inscribed pledge was fraught with mountains of sorrow.
The reader who wishes to know the fate of the Emperor must read the next chapter.