# San Kuo/Volume 2/Chapter 72

CHAPTER LXXII.
Chuko Liang‘s Wit Takes Hanchung; Ts‘ao A-man‘s Army Retires Up Hsiehku.
In spite of the most earnest dissuasion, Hsü Huang crossed the river and camped. Huang Chung and Chao Yün asked to be allowed to go against the host of Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, and Yüan-tê gave his consent.
Then said Huang Chung, “Hsü Huang has been bold enough to come; we will not go out against him till evening, when his men are fatigued. Then we will fall upon him one on either side.”
Chao Yün consented, and each retired to a stockade. Hsü Huang appeared and for a long time tried to draw them into a fight, but they refused to go forth. Then Hsü ordered his bowmen to begin to shoot straight before them, and the arrows and bolts fell in the Shu camp.
Huang said, “He must be thinking of retreat or he would not shoot thus. Now is our time to smite him.”
Then the scouts reported that the rearmost bodies of the enemy had begun to retreat. The drums of Shu rolled a deafening peal and the armies came to the attack, one on either side, and the double fight began. Defeated, the flying soldiers were forced to the Han Waters, where many were drowned. But their leader escaped, and when he got back to camp he blamed his colleague Wang P‘ing for not having come to his aid.
“Had I done so, the camps would have been left unguarded,” said Wang P‘ing. “I tried to dissuade you from going, but you would not hear me, and you brought about this reverse yourself.”
Hsü Huang in his wrath tried to slay Wang, but he escaped to his own camp. In the night a fire broke out and great confusion reigned in the lines. Hsü ran away, but Wang crossed the river and surrendered to Chao Yün, who led him to Yüan-tê. He told Yüan-tê all about the Han Waters and the country near by.
“I shall surely capture Hanchung now that you are here to help me, friend Wang,” said Yüan-tê.
He gave Wang P‘ing an appointment as a supernumerary leader and guide.
Wang P‘ing’s defection, when Hsü Huang told him, made Ts‘ao Ts‘ao very angry. He placed himself at the head of a ​force and tried to retake the bank of the river. Chao Yün, thinking his men too few, retired to the west side, and the two armies lay on opposite sides of the stream. Yüan-tê and his adviser came down to view the position. The latter saw in the upper course of the stream a hill which might well screen a thousand men, so he returned to camp, called in Chao Yün and bade him lead half that number, with drums and horns, and place them in ambush behind the hill, to await certain orders which would come some time during the night or at dawn. When he heard a detonation he was not to appear, only give a long roll of the drums at every report.
Chao Yün departed to play his part in the drama, while K‘ung-ming went to a hill whence he could overlook the scene.
When next the men of Ts‘ao approached the camp of Shu and offered battle not a man came out, nor was an arrow or a bolt shot. They retired without any result. But in the depths of the night, when all the lights in the camp were extinguished and all appeared tranquil and restful, K‘ung-ming exploded a bomb, and at once Chao Yün beat his drums and blared his trumpets. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s men awoke in alarm, thinking it was a night raid. They rushed out, but there was no enemy, and as the hubbub ceased they went back to sleep. Soon after there was another bomb, and again the drums and the trumpets seeming to shake the earth itself, and the fearsome roar echoing along the valleys and from the hills again scared Ts‘ao’s soldiers. Thus the night passed in constant alarms. The next night was the same, and the next. On the fourth day Ts‘ao broke up his camp, marched his men thirty li to the rear and pitched his camp in a clear, wide space among the hills.
K‘ung-ming was pleased at the result of his ruse. Said he, smiling, “Ts‘ao is skilled in war, but still he is not proof against all deceitful tricks.”
The men of Shu then crossed the river and camped with the stream behind them. When Yüan-tê asked the next move he was told, but also told to keep the plan a secret.
Seeing his enemy thus encamped, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao became doubtful and anxious, and, to bring things to a decision, he sent a written declaration of war, to which K‘ung-ming replied that they would fight a battle on the morrow.
On the morrow the armies faced each other half way between the two camps in front of The Hill of Five Frontiers, and there they arrayed. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao presently rode up and stood beside his banner; with his officers right and left and the dragon and phoenix banners fluttering in the wind. His drums rolled thrice, and then he summoned Liu Pei to a parley. Yüan-tê rode out supported by his officers. Then Ts‘ao insolently flourished his whip and vilified his opponent.
​“Liu Pei, you have forgotten kindness and lost the sense of right; you are a rebel against the government.”
Yüan-tê answered, “I am related to the imperial family, and I hold an edict authorising me to seize all rebels. You have dared to lift up your hand against the Empress, made yourself a prince and arrogantly presume to an imperial chariot. If you are not a rebel, what are you?”
Then Ts‘ao ordered Hsü Huang out to give battle, and Liu Fêng went to meet him. As the combat began, Yüan-tê retired within the ranks of his array. Liu Fêng was no match for his opponent, and fled. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao issued an order to capture Liu Pei. At this the army of the king of the west country uttered one great roar of rage. Then Ts‘ao’s men came surging on. The men of Shu fled toward the river abandoning everything, even throwing aside their weapons, which littered the road. But as Ts‘ao’s men pressed forward, he suddenly clanged the gongs, called a halt and drew off.
“Why did you call us off, O Prince, just as we were on the point of success?”
“Because I saw the enemy had encamped with the river in their rear, which was very suspicious. They also abandoned their steeds and weapons, which made me doubt. Wherefore I could only retire. But retain your armour. Let not a man take off his harness on pain of death. Now retire as quickly as you can march.”
As Ts‘ao Ts‘ao turned about to retire, K‘ung-ming hoisted the signal to attack, and the retreating soldiers were harassed on every side both night and day till they were all disordered. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao ordered his army to take refuge in Nanch‘êng.
Presently they saw flames rising all around, and soon it was known that their city of refuge was in the hands of their enemies. Disappointed and saddened, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao bade them march to Yangp‘ing Pass. But Yüan-tê with the main army followed them to Paochou in the Nanch'êng district and there pacified the people and restored confidence.
“Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was exceedingly quickly overcome this time,” said Liu Pei; “how was that?”
“He has always been of a suspicious nature,” said K‘ungming, “and that has led to many failures although he is a good leader of men. I have defeated him by playing upon his doubts.”
“He is rather weakened now,” said Liu Pei. “Can you not devise a plan to drive him away finally?”
“That is all thought out.”
“Next Chang Fei and Wei Yen were sent along two different roads to cut off Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s supplies. Two other cohorts were bidden to go and fire the hills. All these four had natives of the place to act as guides and show the way.
​The scouts sent out from Yangpʻing Pass returned to report that the roads far and near were blocked by the men of Shu and every place seemed to be burning. They had not seen any soldiers. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao knew not what to do. Then they told him that his stores were being plundered by Chang Fei and Wei Yen. At this, he called for a volunteer to drive off the plunderers; and Hsü Ch‘u offered. He was given a company of veterans, and went up to act as escort of the grain wagons. The officers in charge of the transport were very glad to get a guard of such renown.
“Except for you, O General, the grain could never reach Yangp‘ing.”
They entertained Hsü Ch‘u with the wine and food on the carts; and he ate and drank copiously, so that he became very intoxicated. And in that state he insisted on marching, urging the convoy to start at once.
“The sun has nearly set,” said the transport officers, “and the road near Paochou is bad and dangerous, so that we cannot pass there at night.”
“I can face any danger,” boasted the drunken captain; “I am brave as a myriad men put together. What do you think I fear? Beside, there is a good moon to-night, just the sort of thing to take grain carts along by.' ”
Hsü Ch‘u took the lead, sword in hand. By the second watch they were passing Paochou. About half the train had passed when the rolling drums and the blare of horns came down to them through a rift in the hills. It was soon followed by the appearance of a cohort led by Chang Fei. With spear ready, he came racing down straight for Hsü Ch‘u, who, whirling his sword, dashed to the front to meet him.
But Hsu Ch‘u was too drunk to stand against such a warrior. After a few bouts he received a spear thrust in the shoulder, turned round in his saddle and fell from his horse. His men rushed to his help, and they carried him away as they retreated, while Chang Fei took the whole transport train of fodder and forage away to his own camp.
The defeated escort carried their wounded leader back to Ts‘ao’s camp, where he was placed in the care of physicians. Then Ts‘ao himself led out his army to fight a decisive battle with the men of Shu. Yüan-tê went out to meet him, and, when both sides were arrayed, Liu Fêng went out to challenge. Ts‘ao at once let loose a torrent of taunts and reproaches.
“Seller of shoes, you are always sending out this pretended son of yours to fight for you. If I only call my youngster, your so-called son will be chopped to mincemeat.”
These words enraged Liu Fêng, who raised his spear and galloped toward Ts‘ao. Ts‘ao bade Hsü Huang do battle with the young man, and Fêng at once ran away. Ts‘ao led on his legions, but he was harassed by the explosion of bombs, the ​beating of drums and the blare of trumpets that came from every side. He concluded that he was being led into an ambush, and he hastened to retire. The retreat was unfortunate, for the soldiers trampled upon each other and many were killed. Anon they all ran off to Yangpʻing Pass as quickly as they could.
But the men of Shu came right up to the walls of the city, and some burned the east gate while others shouted at the west. Others, again, burned the north gate while drums rolled at the south. Leader and led were alike harassed and frightened, and presently they left the Pass and ran away. They were pursued and sore smitten.
The road to safety was not easy. In one direction Chang Fei barred the way, while Chao Yün and Huang Chung came and attacked from different points. Ts‘ao’s army lost many men, and he was severely defeated. His officers gathered about him and took him off toward Hsiehku. Here a great cloud of dust was seen in the distance.
“If that is an ambush it is the last of me,” sighed Ts‘ao.
The soldiers came nearer, and then Ts‘ao recognised not a enemy but his second son, Chang. As a lad Chang was a good horseman and an expert archer. He was more powerful than most men and could overcome a wild beast with his bare hands. Ts‘ao did not approve of the young man’s bent, and often warned him to study instead.
“You do not study, but only love your bow and your horse; this is the courage of a mere person. Think you that this makes for an honourable career?”
But Chang replied, “The really noble man ought to imitate such grand men as Wei Ching and Ho Ch‘u-ping. They won their reputation in the Shamo Desert, where they led a mighty host able to overrun the whole world and go anywhere. What have I to do with scholarship?”
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao used to ask his sons what career they found admirable, and Chang always replied that he would be a leader of armies.
“But what should a leader be like?” asked Ts‘ao.
“He should be inbued with firmness and courage; never turn aside from a difficulty, but be in the van of his officers and men. Rewards should be certain; and so should punishments.”
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao smiled with pleasure.
In the twenty-third year of the period, Wu Huan of Taichün revolted, and Ts‘ao Ts‘ao sent this son with five legions to suppress him. Just as he was leaving, his father read him a homily on his duty.
“At home we are father and son, but when a task is given you you have to consider your duty as a servant of your ruler. The law knows no kindness, and you must beware.”
​When the expedition reached the north of Tai he led the array and smote as far as Sangkan, and peace was restored. He had lately heard that his father was at Yangpʻing Pass, and had come to help him to fight.
His coming greatly pleased his father, who said, “Now that my callow-bearded son has arrived, we can destroy Liu Pei for certain.”
Then the army was marched back again and pitched camp at Hsiehku.
Someone told Yüan-tê of the arrival of Ts‘ao Chang, and he asked for a volunteer to go out against him. Liu Fêng offered. Mêng Ta also desired to go, and Yüan-tê decided to let both go.
“Vie with each other,” said he.
Each captain had half a legion, and Liu Fêng led the way. Ts‘ao Chang rode out and engaged him, and in the third bout Fêng was overcome and ran off. Then Mêng Ta advanced, and a battle was just beginning when he saw that Ts‘ao’s men were in confusion. The cause was the sudden coming of Ma Ch‘ao and Wu Lan. Before the enemy had recovered from the panic, Mêng Ta attacked on another side. Ma Ch‘ao’s men, who had been nursing their courage for a long time, fought brilliantly, so that none could withstand their onslaught, and they won the day. But in combat with Ts‘ao Chang, Wu Lan received a spear thrust and fell.
After a great fight, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s army was led off and went into camp at Hsiehku. Here Ts‘ao remained many days, prevented from advancing by Ma Ch‘ao and fearing ridicule if he should retreat. One day, while he was anxiously trying to decide what to do, his cook sent in some chicken broth. He noticed in the broth some chicken tendons, and this simple fact led him into a train of reflection. He was still deep in thought when Hsiahou Tun entered his tent to ask the watchword for that night. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao at once involuntarily replied, “Chicken tendon.”
The word was passed on in orders. When the Recorder Yang Hsiu saw the order that the watchword was “chicken tendon” he told all his men to pack up their belongings ready for the march. One who saw this went and told Hsiahou Tun, who sent for Yang Hsiu and asked why he had packed up.
He replied, “By to-night’s orders I see that the prince is soon going to retire. Chicken tendons' are tasteless things to eat, and yet it is a pity to waste them. Now if we advance we cannot conquer, and if we retire we fear we shall look ridiculous. There being no advantage here, the best course is to retire. You will certainly see the Prince of Wei retreat before long. I have made my preparations so as not to be hurried and confused at the last moment.”
​“You seem to know the prince’s inmost heart,” said Hsiahou Tun, and he bade his servants pack. The other captains seeing this, also made preparations for departure.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s mind was too perturbed for sleep. In the night he got up, took a steel battle-axe in his hand and wandered privily through the camp. When he got to Hsiahou Tun’s tents he saw everything packed and ready for a move. Much surprised, he made his way back to his own tent and sent for that officer.
“Why is everything in your camp packed as if ready for the march?”
“Yang Hsiu, the Recorder, seems to have private knowledge of the Prince’s design to retire,” said he.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao summoned Yang Hsiu and questioned him, and Yang replied with the chicken tendon incident.
“How dare you invent such a story and disturb the hearts of my army?”
Ts‘ao called in his lictors and told them to take the man away and behead him and hang his head at the camp gate.
The victim was a man of acute and ingenious mind, but inclined to show off. His lack of restraint over his tongue had often wounded Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s susceptibilities. Once Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was having a pleasance laid out, and when it was completed he went to inspect the work. He uttered no word of praise or blame; he just wrote the word “alive” on the gate and left. Nobody could guess what he meant till Yang Hsiu heard of it.
“Gate” with “alive” inside it makes the word for “wide,” said he. “The minister thinks the gates are too wide.”
Thereupon they rebuilt the outer walls on an altered plan. When complete, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was asked to go and see it. And he was then delighted.
“But who guessed what I meant?” said he.
“Yang Hsiu,” replied his men.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao thereafter lauded Yang’s ingenuity, but in his heart he feared.
Another time Ts‘ao Ts‘ao received a box of cream cheese from Saipei (Mongolia). Ts‘ao Ts‘ao just scribbled three words on the top and left it on the table. The words seemed to have no meaning. But Yang Hsiu happened to come in, saw the box and at once handed a spoonful of the contents to each guest in the room. When Ts‘ao asked why he did this, he explained that that was the interpretation of the words on the box, which, resolved into primary symbols, read, “Each man a mouthful.”
“Could I possibly disobey your orders?” said he.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao laughed with the others, but hatred was in his heart.
​Ts‘ao lived in constant fear of assassination, and said to his attendants, “Let none of you come near me when I am sleeping, for I am like to slay people in my dreams.”
One day he was enjoying a siesta, and his quilt fell off. One of the attendants saw it and hastened to cover him again. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao suddenly leaped from the couch, cut down the intruder with his sword and lay down again to sleep. Some time after he awoke, simulated surprise and asked who had killed his attendant. When they told him, he wept aloud for the dead man and had him buried in a fine grave. Most people thought that Ts‘ao Ts‘ao had slain the man while asleep, but Yang Hsiu knew better, and at the funeral of the victim he remarked, “The minister was in no dream, but the gentleman in him was asleep.”
This only increased the hatred.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s third son, Chih, took great delight in Yang Hsiu’s cleverness and often invited him, when they would talk the whole night.
When Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was considering the nomination of his heir and desired to name Chih, Ts‘ao P‘ei got to hear of the proposal to set him aside in favour of his younger brother, so he secretly requested the Master of the Court Singers, Wu Chih, to come and discuss this matter. Then fearing that someone might see his visitor, he got a large basket made, in which his friend was smuggled into the palace. He gave out that the basket contained rolls of silk. Yang Hsiu heard the truth and informed Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, who sent men to watch at the gates. Ts‘ao P‘ei, in alarm, told Wu Chih, who told him not to be afraid but to fill a basket actually with rolls of silk on the morrow and have it carried in as before. The searchers peeped into the basket and found the rolls of silk. They told Ts‘ao Ts‘ao the result of their search, and he began to think Yang Hsiu was plotting against his son. This also added to his hatred.
Another time Ts‘ao, wishing to compare the abilities of his two sons P‘ei and Chih, told them both to go out of the city, at the same time ordering the gate wardens to forbid their exit. Ts‘ao P‘ei first came to the gate, was stopped by the wardens and returned to his palace. But his brother Chih consulted Yang Hsiu, who said, “You have received orders from the prince to go out; simply cut down any who may try to prevent you.”
When Ts‘ao Chih went to the gate and was stopped, he shouted out to the wardens, “I have the prince’s order to go out; dare you stop me?”
He slew the man who would have prevented him. Wherefore Ts‘ao Ts‘ao considered his younger son the more able. But when some other person told him that the device came from Yang Hsiu, he was angry and took a dislike to his son Chih. ​Yang Hsiu also used to coach Chih in preparing replies to likely questions, which were learned by heart and quoted when necessary. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was always asking this son his opinion on military matters, and Chih always had a fluent reply ready. His father was not without suspicions, which were turned into certainties when the eldest son gave his father the written replies which he had bribed a servant to filch from his brother’s apartments. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was quite angry.
“How dare he throw dust in my eyes like this?” said Ts‘ao Ts‘ao.
Yang Hsiu very nearly lost his life for his share in that business. Now sending him to execution on the charge of destroying the morale of the soldiers was only a subterfuge. Yang Hsiu was but thirty-four when he met his end.
Talented was Yang Hsiu, Born of an illustrious stock, His pen traced wonderful characters, In his breast were beautiful words. When he talked, his hearers were astonished, His alert responses overpast every one. He died because of misdirected genius And not because he foretold retreat.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao thus put to death the prime mover and simulated anger against Hsiahou Tun. He threatened to execute him, but listened to those who begged him to show mercy.
“Get out of this!” said he.
Next he issued an order to advance on the morrow. The army moved out of the valley and came face to face with the men of Shu led by Wei Yen. He summoned Wei to surrender, but received abuse and contumely in return.
P‘ang Tê went out to fight Wei Yen, but while the combat was in progress fires broke out in Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s camp and a soldier came flying to say that the rear and centre camps had been seized by Ma Ch‘ao. Fearing lest this should lead to a rout, he drew his sword and stood before the army crying out, “Death for any officer who flinches!”
Wherefore they pressed forward valiantly, and Wei Yen, pretending defeat, retreated. Having driven back this army, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao gave the signal to turn toward camp and fight with Ma Ch‘ao. He took up his station on the top of a hill whence he could survey the field. Suddenly a cohort appeared just below him, and the leader cried, “Wei Yen is here!” Wei fitted an arrow to his bow, shot and wounded Ts‘ao Ts‘ao just in the raphe of his lip. He turned and fell. Wei Yen threw aside his bow, seized his sword and came charging up the hill to finish his enemy. But with a shout P‘ang Tê flashed in.
“Spare my lord!” cried he.
He rushed up and drove Wei Yen backward. Then they took Ts‘ao Ts‘ao away. Ma Ch‘ao also retired, and the wounded prince slowly returned to his own camp.
​As has been said, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was wounded full in the face, and the arrow knocked out two of his front teeth. When in the hands of the physicians he lay thinking over Yang Hsiu’s words. In a repentant mood he had the remains decently interred.
Then he gave the order to retreat. P‘ang Tê was the rear guard. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao set out homeward in a padded carriage, escorted by his Tiger Guard.
Before they had gone far, there was an alarm of fire and ambush. The soldiers were all fear-stricken.
'Twas something like the danger once at T‘ung Kuan met, Or like the fight at Red Cliff which Ts‘ao could n‘er forget.
How Ts‘ao Ts‘ao fared will next be told.