# San Kuo/Volume 2/Chapter 103

CHAPTER CIII.
Ssǔma Surrounded in Shangfang Valley; Chuko Invokes the Stars in the Wuchang Plain.
Sorely smitten in the battle, Ssǔma fled from the field a lonely horseman, a single spear. Seeing a thick wood in the distance he made for its shelter.
Chang I halted the rear division while Miao Hua pressed forward after the fugitive, whom he could see threading his way among the trees. And Ssǔma indeed was soon in fear of his life, dodging from tree to tree as his pursuer neared. Once Miao Hua was actually close enough to slash at his enemy, but he struck a tree instead of his man, and before he could pull his sword out of the wood Ssŭma had got clear away. When Miao got through into the open country he did not know which way to go. Presently he noticed a helmet lying on the ground, just lately thrown aside. He picked it up, hung it on his saddle and went away eastward.
But the crafty fugitive, having flung away his helmet thus on the east side of the wood, had gone away west, so that Miao was going away from his quarry. After some time Miao fell in with Chiang Wei, when he abandoned the pursuit and rode with him back to camp.
The “wooden oxen and running horses” having been driven into camp, their loads were put into the storehouse. The grain that fell to the victors amounted to a myriad “stone” or more.
Miao Hua presented the enemy’s helmet as proof of his prowess in the field and received a reward of the first grade of merit. But Wei Yen had nothing to offer, and so was overlooked. He went away angry and discontented, muttering that the general pretended to be ignorant of his services.
Very sadly Ssŭma returned to his own camp. Bad news followed, for a messenger brought letters telling of an invasion by three armies of Wu. The letters said that forces had been sent against them, and the king again enjoined upon his general a waiting and defensive policy. So Ssǔma deepened his moats and raised his ramparts.
King Ts‘ao Jui had sent three armies against the invaders; Liu Shao led that to save Changhsia, T‘ien Yu led the Hsiangyang force. The king, with Man Ch‘ung, went into Hofei. This last was the main army.
​Man Ch‘ung led the leading division toward Ch‘aohuk‘ou. Thence, looking across to the eastern shore, he saw only a few ships, but a large number of flags and banners. So he returned to the main army and proposed an attack without loss of time.
“The enemy think we shall be fatigued after a long march and have not troubled to prepare any defence; we should attack this night, and we shall overcome them.”
“What you say accords with my own ideas,” said the king, and he told off the cavalry leader, Chang Ch‘iu, to take five companies and try to burn out the enemy. Man Ch‘ung was also to attack from the eastern bank.
In the second watch of that night the two forces set out and gradually approached the entrance to the lake. They reached the marine camp unobserved, burst upon it with a yell, and the men of Wu fled without striking a blow. The men of Wei set fires going in every direction and thus destroyed all the ships together with much grain and many weapons.
Chuko Chin, who was in command, led his beaten men to Mienk‘ou, and the attackers returned to their camp much elated.
When the report come to Lu Hsün he called together his officers and said, “I must write to the king to abandon the siege of Hsinch‘êng, that the men may be employed to cut off the retreat of the Wei army, while I will attack them in front. They will be harassed by the double danger, and we shall break them.”
All agreed that this was a good plan, and the memorial was drafted. It was sent by the hard of a junior officer, who was told to convey it secretly. But this messenger was captured at the ferry and taken before King Jui, who read the despatch, saying, with a sigh, “This Lu Hsün is really very resourceful.”
The captive was put into prison, and Liu Shao was told off to defend the rear and keep off Sun’s army.”
Now Chuko’s defeated men were suffering from hot weather illnesses, and at length he was compelled to write and tell Lu Hsün, and ask that his army be relieved and sent home. Having read this despatch, Lu said to the messenger, “Make my obeisance to the Great General and say that I will decide.”
When the messenger returned with this reply Chuko asked what was doing in the Commander-in-chief’s camp. He replied that the men were all outside planting beans, and the officers were amusing themselves at the gates. They were playing a game of skill, throwing arrows into narrow-necked vases. Then Chuko himself went to his chief’s camp and asked how the pressing danger was to be met.
Lu Hsün replied, “My messenger to the king was captured, and thus my plans were discovered. Now it is useless to prepare to fight, and so we had better retreat. I have sent in a memorial to engage the king to retire gradually.”
​Chuko replied, “Why delay? If you think it best to retire, it had better be done quickly.”
“My army must retreat slowly, or the enemy will come in pursuit, which will mean defeat and loss. Now you must first prepare your ships as if you meant to resist, while I make a semblance of an attack toward Hsiangyang. Under cover of these operations I shall withdraw into Chiangtung, and the enemy will not dare to follow.”
So Chuko returned to his own camp and began to fit out his ships as if for an immediate expedition, while Lu made all preparations to march, giving out that he intended to advance upon Hsiangyang. The news of these movements were duly reported in the Wei camps, and when the leaders heard it they wished to go out and fight. But the king knew his opponent better than they and would not bring about a battle. So he called his officers together and said to them, “This Lu Hsün is very crafty; keep careful guard, but do not risk a battle.”
The officers obeyed, but a few days later the scouts brought in news that the armies of Wu had retired. The king doubted and sent out some of his own spies, who confirmed the report. When he thus knew it was true he consoled himself with the words, “Lu Hsün knows the rat of war even as did Sun Wu and Wu P‘ing; they were no whit his superior. The subjugation of the south-east is not for me this time.”
Thereupon he distributed his captains among the various vantage points and led the main army back into Hofei, where he camped ready to take advantage of any change of conditions that might promise success.
Meanwhile K‘ung-ming was at Ch‘ishan, where, to all appearances, he intended to make a long sojourn. He made his soldiers mix with the people and share in the labour of the fields. He gave strict orders against any encroachment on the property of the farmers, and so they and the soldiers lived together very amicably.
Then Ssǔma’s son, Shih, went to his father and said, “These men of Shu have despoiled us of much grain, and now they are mingling with the people of Ch‘ishan and tilling the fields along the banks of the Wei River as if they intended to remain there. This would be a calamity for us. Why do you not appoint a time to fight a decisive battle with K‘ung-ming?”
His father replied, “I have the king’s orders to act on the defensive and may not do as you suggest.”
While they were thus talking, one reported that Wei Yen had come near and was insulting the army and reminding them that they had the helmet of its leader. And he was challenging them. The captains were greatly incensed and desired to accept the challenge, but the Commander-in-chief was immovable in his decision to obey his orders.
​“The Holy One says if we cannot suffer small things, great matters are imperilled. Our plan is to defend.”
So the challenge was not accepted, and there was no battle. After reviling them for some time, Wei Yen went away.
Seeing that his enemy was not to be provoked into fighting, K‘ung-ming gave orders to build a strong stockade and therein to excavate pits and to collect large quantities of inflammables. So on the hill they piled wood and straw in the shape of sheds, and all about they digged pits and buried mines. When these preparations were complete Ma Tai received instructions to block the road in rear of Hulu Valley and to lay an ambush at the entrance.
“If Ssŭma comes, let him enter the valley, and then explode the mines and set fire to the straw and the wood,” said K‘ung-ming.
K‘ung-ming set up a seven-star signal at the mouth of the valley and also arranged a night signal of seven lamps on the hill. After Ma Tai had gone, Wei Yen was called in, and Kʻungming said to him, “Go to the camp of Wei with half a company and provoke them to battle. The important matter is to entice Ssŭma out of his stronghold. You will be unable to obtain a victory, so retreat that he may pursue; and you are to make for the signal, the seven stars by day or the seven lamps at night. Thus you will lead him into the Hulu Valley, where I have a plan prepared for him.”
When he had gone, Kao Hsiang was summoned.
“Take small herds, two or three score at a time, of the 'wooden oxen and running horses,' load them up with grain and lead them to and fro on the mountains. If you can succeed in getting the enemy to capture them you will render a service.”
So the transport “cattle” were sent forth to play their part in the scheme, and the remainder of the Ch‘ishan soldiers were sent to work in the fields, with orders to join in the battle only if Ssǔma came in person. In that case they were to attack the south bank of the river and cut off the retreat. Then K‘ung-ming led his army away to camp in the Shangfang Valley.
Hsiahou Hui and Hsiahou Ho went to their chief, Ssŭma I, and said, “The enemy have set out camps and are engaged in field work as though they intended to remain. If they are not destroyed now, but are allowed to consolidate their position, they will be hard to dislodge.”
“This certainly is one of K‘ung-ming’s ruses,” said the chief.
“You seem very afraid of him, General,” retorted they. “When do you think you can destroy him? At least let us two brothers fight one battle that we may prove our gratitude for the king’s kindness.”
​“If it must be so, then you may go in two divisions,” said Ssŭma.
As the two divisions were marching along they saw coming toward them a number of the transport “animals” of the enemy. They attacked at once, drove off the escort, captured them and sent them back to camp. Next day they captured more, with men and horses as well, and sent them also to camp.
Ssǔma called up the prisoners and questioned them. They told him that K‘ung-ming quite understood that he would not fight and so had told off the soldiers to various places to work in the fields and thus provide for future needs. They had been unwittingly captured.
Ssǔma set them free and bade them begone.
“Why spare them?” asked Hsiahou Ho.
“There is nothing to be gained by the slaughter of a few common soldiers. Let them go back to their own and praise the kindliness of the Wei leaders. That will slacken the desire of their comrades to fight against us. That was the plan by which Lü Mêng captured Chingchou.”
Then he issued general orders that all Shu prisoners should be well treated and sent away free, and he rewarded those of his army who had done well.
As has been said, Kao Hsiang was ordered to keep pretended convoys on the move, and the soldiers of Wei attacked and captured them whenever they saw them. In half a month they had scored many successes of this sort, and Ssŭma’s heart was cheered. One day, when he had made new captures of men, he sent for them and questioned them again.
“Where is K‘ung-ming now?”
“He is no longer at Ch‘ishan, but in camp about ten li from Shangfang Valley. He is gathering great store of grain there.”
After he had questioned them fully, he set the prisoners free. Calling together his officers, he said, “K‘ung-ming is not camped on Ch‘ishan, but near Shangfang Valley. Tomorrow you shall attack the Ch‘ishan camp, and I will command the reserve.”
The promise cheered them, and they went away to prepare.
“Father, why do you intend to attack the enemy’s rear?” asked Ssŭma Shih.
“Ch‘ishan is their main position, and they will certainly hasten to its rescue. Then I shall make for the valley and burn the stores. That will render them helpless and will be a victory.”
The son dutifully agreed with his father and set out, while his father followed with the reserves.
From the top of a hill K‘ung-ming watched the Wei soldiers march and noticed that they moved carelessly, not even keeping their ranks. He guessed that their object was the Ch‘ishan ​camp and sent strict orders to his captains that if Ssŭma led in person they were to go off and capture the camp on the south bank.
When the men of Wei had got near and made their rush toward the camp of Shu, the men of Shu ran up also, yelling and pretending to reinforce the defenders. Ssǔma, seeing this, suddenly changed his direction and turned off for the Shangfang Valley. Here Wei Yen was expecting him, and as soon as he appeared Wei Yen galloped up and soon recognised Ssŭma as the leader.
“Ssŭma I, stay!” shouted he as he came near. He flourished his sword, and Ssǔma set his spear. The two warriors exchanged a few passes, and then Wei Yen suddenly turned his steed and bolted. As he had been ordered, he made direct for the seven-starred flag, and Ssǔma followed, the more readily as he saw the fugitive had but a small force. The two sons of Ssŭma rode with him, one on either hand.
Presently Wei Yen and his men entered the mouth of the valley. Ssŭma halted a time while he sent forward a few scouts, but when they returned and reported nothing to be seen but a few straw houses on the hills, he rode in, saying, “This must be the store valley.”
But when he had got well within, Ssŭma noticed that kindling wood was piled over the straw huts, and as he saw no sign of Wei Yen he began to feel uneasy.
“Supposing soldiers seize the entrance; what then?” said he to his sons.
As he spoke there arose a great shout, and from the hillside came many torches, which fell all around them and set fire to the straw, so that soon the entrance to the valley was lost in smoke and flame. They tried to get away from the fire, but no road led up the hillside. Then fire-arrows came shooting down, and the earth-mines exploded, and the straw and firewood blazed high as the heavens. Ssǔma I, scared and helpless, dismounted, clasped his arms about his two sons and wept, saying, “My sons, we three are doomed.”
But suddenly a fierce gale sprang up, black clouds gathered, a peal of thunder followed and rain poured down in torrents, speedily extinguishing the fire all through the valley. The mines no longer exploded and all the fiery contrivances ceased to work mischief.
“If we do not break out now, what better chance shall we have?” cried the father, and he and his two sons made a dash for the outlet. As they broke out of the valley they came upon reinforcements under Chang Hu and Yüeh Lin, and so were once more safe. Ma Tai was not strong enough to pursue, and the men of Wei got safely to the river.
But there they found their camp in the possession of the enemy, while Chiang Huai and his colleague were on the float​ing bridge struggling with the men of Shu. However, as Ssŭma neared, the men of Shu retreated, whereupon the bridges were burned and the north bank occupied.
The Wei army attacking the Ch‘ishan camp were greatly disturbed when they heard of the defeat of their general and the loss of the camp on the Wei River. The men of Shu took the occasion to strike with greater vigour, and so gained a great victory. The beaten army suffered great loss. Those who escaped fled across the river.
When K‘ung-ming from the hill-top saw that his enemy had been inveigled into the trap he had so carefully prepared, he rejoiced exceedingly, and when he saw the flames burst forth he thought surely his rival was done for. Then, unhappily for him, Heaven thought it well to send down torrents of rain, which quenched the fire and upset all his calculations.
Soon after, the scouts reported the escape of his victims, and he sighed, saying, “Man proposes; God disposes. We cannot wrest events to our will.”
Fierce fires roared in the valley, But the rain quenched them. Had Chuko’s plan but succeeded, Where had been the Chins?
From the new camp on the north bank of the river Ssŭma issued an order that he would put to death any officer who proposed going out to battle. The final result of the late ill-advised expedition had been the loss of the south bank of the river. Accordingly no one spoke of attacking, but all turned their energies toward defence.
Kuo Huai went to the general to talk over plans. He said, “The enemy have been carefully spying out the country and are certainly selecting a new position for a camp. If K‘ungming go out to Wukung, and thence eastward, we shall be in grave danger; if he go out by Huainan and halts on the Wuchang Plain, we need feel no anxiety.”
They decided to send scouts to find out the movements of their enemy. Presently the scouts returned to say that he had chosen the plain.
“Our great Emperor of Wei has remarkable fortune,” said Ssŭma, clapping his hand to his forehead. Then he confirmed the order to remain strictly on the defensive till some change of circumstances on the part of the enemy should promise advantage.
After his army had settled into camp on the plain, K‘ungming continued his attempts to provoke a battle. Day after day, parties went to challenge the men of Wei, but they resisted all provocation.
One day K‘ung-ming packed a woman’s head-dress and a robe of white silk in a box, which he sent, with a letter, to his ​rival. The insult could not be concealed, so the captains led the bearer of the box to their chief. He opened the box and saw the dress of a woman. Then he opened the letter, which read something like this:—
“Friend Ssǔma, although you are a General and lead the troops of the capital, you seem but little disposed to display the firmness and valour that would render a contest decisive. Instead, you have prepared a comfortable lair where you are safe from the keen edge of the sword. Are you not very like a woman? Wherefore I send the bearer with a suitable gift, and you will humbly accept it and the humiliation, unless, indeed, you finally decide to come out and fight like a man. If you are not entirely indifferent to shame, if you retain any of the feelings of a man, you will send this back to me and come out and give battle.”
Ssǔma I, although inwardly raging, pretended to take it all as a joke and smiled.
“So he regards me as a woman,” said he.
He accepted the gift and treated the messenger well. Before he left, Ssǔma asked him a few questions about his master’s eating and sleeping and hours of labour.
“He works very hard,” said the messenger. “He rises early and retires to bed late. He attends personally to all cases requiring punishment of over a score of strokes. As for food, he does not eat more than a few hsing (pints) of grain.”
“That is, he eats little and works much,” remarked Ssŭma. “Can he last long?”
The messenger returned to his own side and reported that the general had taken the whole episode in good part and shown no sign of anger. He had only asked about K‘ungming’s hours of rest, and food and such things. He had said no word about military matters. “I told him that you ate little and worked long hours, and then he said, 'Can he last long?' That was all.”
“He knows,” said K‘ung-ming, pensively.
The Accountant Yang Yung presently ventured to remonstrate with his chief.
“I notice,” said Yang, “that you check the books personally. I think that is needless labour for a Prime Minister to undertake. In every administration the higher and subordinate ranks have their especial fields of activity, and each should confine his labours to his own field. In a household, for example, the male servants plough and the female cook, and thus operations are carried on without waste of energy, and all needs are supplied. The master of the house has ample leisure and tranquillity. If one individual strives to attend personally to every matter he only wearies himself and fails to accomplish his end. How can he possibly hope to perform all the various tasks so well as the maids or the hinds? ​He fails in his own part, that of playing the master. And, indeed, the ancients held this same opinion, for they said that the high officers should attend to the discussion of ways and means and the lower should carry out details. Of old, Ping Chi was moved to deep thought by the panting of an ox, which showed the seasons untimely, but enquired not about the corpses—of certain brawlers—which lay about the road, for this matter concerned the magistrate. Ch'ên P‘ing was ignorant of the figures relating to taxes, for he said these were the concern of the controllers of taxes.
“O Minister, you weary yourself with minor details and sweat yourself every day. You are wearing yourself out, and Ssŭma I has good reason for what he said.”
“I know; I cannot but know,” replied K‘ung-ming. “But this heavy responsibility was laid upon me, and I fear no other will be so devoted as I am.”
Those who heard him wept. Thereafter K‘ung-ming appeared more and more harassed, and military operations did not speed.
On the other side the officers of Wei resented bitterly the insult that had been put upon them when their leader had been presented with a woman’s dress. They wished to avenge the taunt, and went to their general, saying, “We are reputable captains of the army of a great state; how can we put up with such insults from these men of Shu? We pray you to let us fight them.”
“It is not that I fear to go out,” said Ssŭma, “nor that I relish the insults, but I have the king’s command to hold on and may not disobey.”
The officers were not in the least appeased. Wherefore he said, “I will send your request to the Throne in a memorial; what think you of that?”
They consented to await the king’s reply, and a messenger bore to King Jui, in Hofei, this memorial:—
“I have small ability and high office. Your Majesty laid on me the command to defend and not fight till the men of Shu had suffered by the efflux of time. But Chuko Liang has now sent me a gift of a woman’s dress, and my shame is very deep. Wherefore I advise Your Majesty that one day I shall have to fight in order to justify your kindness to me and to remove the shameful stigma that now rests upon my army. I cannot express the degree to which I am urged to this course.”
The king read it and turned questioningly to his courtiers seeking an explanation. Hsin P‘i supplied it.
“Ssǔma has no desire to give battle; this memorial is because of the shame put upon the officers by K‘ung-ming’s gift. They are all in a rage. He wishes for an edict to pacity them.”
The king understood and gave to Hsin P‘i a chieh (formal authority) and sent him to the river camp to make known that ​it was the king’s command not to fight. Ssŭma received the messenger with all respect, and it was given out that any future reference to offering battle would be taken as disobedience to the king’s especial command in the edict.
The officers could but obey, but their general told the king’s messenger that he had interpreted his own desire correctly.
It was thenceforward understood that the general was forbidden to give battle. When it was told to K‘ung-ming, he said, “This is only Ssǔma’s method of pacifying his army. He has never had any intention of fighting and requested the edict to justify his strategy. It is well known that a general in the field takes no command from any person, not even his own king. Is it likely that he would send a thousand li to ask permission to fight if that was all he needed? The officers were bitter, and so Ssŭma got the king to assist him in maintaining discipline. All this is meant to slacken our men.”
Just at this time Fei I came. He was called in to see the general, and K‘ung-ming asked the reason for his coming. He replied, “King Jui, of Wei, hearing that Wu has invaded his country at three points, has led a great army to Hofei and sent three other armies to oppose the invaders. The stores and fight-material of Wu have been burned, and the men of Wu have fallen victims to sickness. A letter from Lu Hsün containing a scheme of attack fell into the hands of the enemy, and the lord of Wu has marched back into his own country.”
K‘ung-ming listened to the end; then, without a word, he fell in a swoon. He recovered after a time, but he was broken. He said, “My mind is all in confusion. This is a return of my old complaint, and I am doomed.”
Ill as he was, K‘ung-ming that night went forth from his tent to scan the heavens and study the stars. They filled him with fear. He returned and said to Chiang Wei, “My life may end at any moment.”
“Why do you say such a thing?”
“Just now in the San-t‘ai constellation the roving star was twice as bright as usual, while the fixed stars were darkened; the supporting stars were also obscure. With such an aspect I know my fate.”
“If the aspect be as malignant as you say, why not pray in order to avert it?” replied Chiang.
“I am in the habit of praying,” replied K‘ung-ming, “but I know not the will of God. However, prepare me forty-nine men and let each have a black flag. Dress them in black and place them outside my tent. Then will I from within my tent invoke the Seven Stars of the North. If my master-lamp remain alight for seven days, then is my life to be prolonged. If the lamp go out, then I am to die. Keep all idlers away from the tent and let a couple of youths bring me what is necessary.”
​Chiang prepared as directed. It was then the eighth month, mid-autumn, and the Silver River (Milky Way) was brilliant with scattered jade. The air was perfectly calm, and no sound was heard.
The forty-nine men were brought up and spaced out to guard the tent, while within K‘ung-ming prepared incense and offerings. On the floor of the tent he arranged seven lamps, and, outside these, forty-nine smaller lamps. In the midst he placed the lamp of his own fate.
This done, he prayed, saying, “Liang, born into an age of trouble, would willingly have grown old in retirement. But His Majesty Chao-Lieh sought him thrice and confided to him the heavy responsibility of guarding his son. He dared not do less than spend himself to the utmost in such a task and he pledged himself to destroy the rebels. Suddenly the star of his leadership has declined, and his life now nears its close. He has humbly indited a declaration to the Great Unknowable and now hopes that He will graciously listen and extend the number of his days that he may prove his gratitude to his prince and be the saviour of the people, restore the old state of the empire and establish eternally the Han sacrifices. He dares not make a vain prayer; this is from his heart.”
This prayer ended, in the solitude of his tent he awaited the dawn.
Next day, ill as he was, he did not neglect his duties, although he spat blood continually. All day he laboured at his plans, and at night he paced the magic steps, the steps of “the four” and “the seven” stars of Ursa Major.
Ssǔma I remained still on the defensive. One night as he sat gazing up at the sky and studying its aspect he suddenly turned to Hsiahou Pa, saying, “A leadership star has just lost position; surely K‘ung-ming is ill and will soon die. Take a reconnoitring party to the Wuchang Plain and find out. If you see signs of confusion do not attack; it means that K‘ungming is ill. I shall take the occasion to smite hard.”
Hsiahou Pa left. It was the sixth night of K‘ung-ming’s prayers, and the lamp of his fate still burned brightly. He began to feel a secret joy. Presently Chiang Wei entered and watched the ceremonies.
Suddenly a great shouting was heard outside, and immediately Wei Yen dashed in, crying, “The Wei soldiers are upon us!”
In his haste he had knocked over and extinguished the Lamp of Fate.
K‘ung-ming threw down the sword and sighed, saying, “Life and death are foreordained; no prayers can alter them.”
Wei Yen fell to the earth and craved forgiveness. Chiang drew his sword to slay the unhappy soldier.
Nought is under man’s control, Nor can he with fate contend.
Did Chiang kill the blundering warrior? The next chapter will unfold.