# San Kuo/Volume 2/Chapter 100

CHAPTER C.
The Han Soldiers Raid a Camp and Defeat Ts‘ao Chěn; Chuko, in Front of the Array, Shames Ssǔma.
When the officers got to know that the Wei army had gone but they were not to pursue, they were inclined to discontent and went in a body to the general’s tent and said, “The rain has driven the enemy away; surely it is the moment to pursue.”
K‘ung-ming replied, “Ssǔma I is an able leader who would not retreat without leaving an ambush to cover it. If we pursue we shall fall victims. Let him go in peace, and I shall then get through Hsieh Valley and take Ch‘ishan, making use of the enemy’s lack of defence.”
“But there are other ways of taking Ch‘angan,” said they; “why only take this one?”
“Because Ch‘ishan is the first step to Ch‘angan, and I want to gain the advantage of position. Any attack on Shênsi must come this way. It rests on the rivers Wei and Pin in front and is backed by Hsieh Valley. It gives the greatest freedom of movement and is a natural manœuvring ground. That is why I want it.”
They bowed to his wisdom. Then he despatched four captains for Chi Valley and four others for Hsieh Valley, all to meet at Ch‘ishan. He led the main army himself, with Kuan Hsing and Miao Hua in the van.
When the Wei army retreated, the Commander-in-chief and his second remained in the rear superintending the movement. They sent a reconnoitring party along the old road to Ch'ên-ts‘ang, and they returned saying no enemy was to be seen. Ten days later the leaders, who had commanded in the ambush, joined the main body saying that they had seen no sign of the enemy.
Ts‘ao Chên said, “This continuous autumn rain has rendered all the ways impassable; how could the men of Shu know of our retreat?”
“They will appear later,” said Ssŭma.
“How can you know?”
“These late five days they have not pursued because they think we shall have left a rear-guard in ambush. Therefore they have let us get well away. But after we have gone they will occupy Chʻishan.”
Ts‘ao Chên was not convinced.
​“Why do you doubt?” asked Ssŭma. “I think K‘ung-ming will certainly advance by way of the two valleys, and you and I should guard the entrances. I give them ten days, and if they do not appear, I will come to your camp painted and powdered and dressed as a woman to own my mistake.”
“If the men of Shu do appear I will give you the girdle and the steed that the king gave me,” replied Ts‘ao.
But they split their force, Ts‘ao Chên taking up his station on the west of Ch‘ishan in the Hsieh Valley, and Ssǔma going to the east in the Chi Valley.
As soon as the camp was settled, Ssǔma I led a cohort into hiding in the valley. The remainder of the force was placed in detachments on the chief roads.
Ssǔma disguised himself and went among the soldiers to get a private survey of all the camps. In one of them he happened upon a junior officer who was complaining, saying, “The rain has drenched us for days and they would not retire. Now they have camped here for a wager. They have no pity for us or the men.”
Ssǔma returned to his tent and assembled his officers. Hauling out the grumbler, he said to him, angrily, “The state maintains soldiers a thousand days for one hour’s service. How dare you give vent to your spleen to the detriment of discipline?”
The man would not confess, so his comrades were called to bear witness. Still he would not own up.
“I am not here for a wager, but to overcome Shu,” said Ssǔma. “Now you all have done well and are going home, but only this fellow complains and is guilty of mutinous conduct.”
He ordered the lictors to put him to death, and in a short time they produced his head. The others were terrified, but Ssŭma said, “All you must do your utmost to guard against the enemy. When you hear a bomb explode rush out on all sides and attack.”
With this order they retired.
Now Wei Yen and his three comrades, with two legions, entered the Chi Valley. As they were marching, the Assistant Adviser Têng Chih came.
“I bear an order from the minister. As you go out of the valley beware of the enemy,” said he.
Ch'ên Shih said, “Why is the minister so full of doubts? We know the men of Wei have suffered severely from the rain and must hasten home. They will not lay any ambush. We are doing double marches and shall gain a great victory. Why are we to delay?”
Têng Chih replied, “You know the minister’s plans always succeed. How dare you disobey his orders?”
Ch'ên Shih smiled, saying, “If he was really so resourceful we should not have lost Chieht‘ing.”
​Wei Yen, recalling that K‘ung-ming had rejected his plan, also laughed, and said, “If he had listened to me and gone out through Tzǔwu Valley, not only Ch‘angan but Loyang too would be ours. Now he is bent on taking Ch‘ishan; what is the good of it? He gave us the order to advance and now he stops us. Truly the orders are confusing.”
Then said Ch‘ên Shih, “I will tell you what I will do. I shall take my men, get through the valley and camp at Ch‘ishan. Then you will see how ashamed the minister will look.”
Têng Chih argued and persuaded, but to no avail; the wilful leader hurried on to get out of the valley. Têng could only return as quickly as possible and report.
Ch'ên Shih proceeded. He had not gone far when he heard a bomb, and he was in an ambush. He tried to withdraw, but the valley was full of the enemy, and he was surrounded as in an iron cask. All his efforts to get out failed. Then there was a shout, and Wei Yen came to the rescue. He saved his comrade, but his half legion was reduced to about a half company, and these wounded. Two other divisions coming up prevented pursuit, and finally the men of Wei retired. The two who had criticised K‘ung-ming’s powers of prevision no longer doubted that he saw very clearly. They regretted their own shortsightedness.
When Têng Chih told his chief of the bad behaviour of Ch'ên and Wei he only laughed. “That fellow Wei has never been quite true; he has always been disposed to disobey and is unsteady. However, he is valiant, and so I have used him, but he will do real harm some day.”
Then came a messenger with news of Ch'ên’s defeat and loss of men. K‘ung-ming sent Têng Chih back again to console with him and so keep him from actual mutiny. Then he called to his tent Ma Tai and Wang P‘ing, and said, “If there are any of the men of Wei in Hsieh Valley you are to go across the Yüehshan range, marching by night and concealing yourselves by day, and make for the east of Ch‘ishan. When you arrive, make a fire as a signal. Ma Chung and Chang I were told to go in similar fashion to the west and join up with the other two. Then they were to make a joint attack on Ts‘ao Chên’s camp. The chief would also attack in the centre. Kuan Hsing and Miao Hua received secret orders, which are not recorded here.
The armies marched rapidly. Not long after starting, two other detachments led by Wu Pan and Wu I received secret orders and left the main body.
The doubts about the coming of the Shu army made Ts‘ao Chên careless, and he allowed his men to become slack and rest. He only thought of getting through the allotted ten days, when he would have the laugh against his colleague.
​Seven of the days had passed, when a scout reported a few odd men of Shu in the valley. Ts‘ao sent to reconnoitre and keep them at a distance. Ch‘in Liang was in command, and he led his men to the entrance of the valley. As soon as he arrived the enemy retired. Ch‘in Liang went after them, but they had disappeared. He was perplexed and puzzled, and while trying to decide, he told the men to dismount and rest.
But almost immediately he heard a shout, and ambushed men appeared in front of him. He jumped on his horse to look about him, and saw a great cloud of dust rising among the hills. He disposed his men for defence, but the shouting quickly came nearer, and then Wu Pan and Wu I appeared advancing towards him. Retreat was impossible, as the hills were on both sides, and from the hill-tops came shouts of “Dismount and yield!”
More than half did surrender. Ch‘in Liang was killed. K‘ung-ming put the men who had come over to his side in one of the rear divisions. With their dress and arms he disguised half a legion of his own men so that they looked like his enemies, and then he sent this division, under four trusty leaders, to raid Ts‘ao Chên’s camp. Before they reached the camp they sent one of their number ahead as a galloper to tell Ts‘ao Chên that there had been only a few men of Shu and they had all been chased out of sight, and so lull him into security.
This news satisfied Ts‘ao Chên. But just then a trusty messenger from Ssŭma came with a message, “Our men have fallen into an ambush and many have been killed. Do not think any more about the wager: that is cancelled. But take most careful precautions.”
“But there is not a single man of Shu near,” said Ts‘ao Chên. He told the messenger to go back. Just then they told him Ch‘in Liang’s men had returned, and he went out to meet them. Just as he got near, someone remarked that some torches had flared up in the rear of his camp. He hastened thither to see. As soon as he was out of sight the four leaders waved on their men and dashed up to the camp. At the same time Ma Tai and Wang P‘ing came up behind and two other troops came out.
The men of Wei were trapped and helpless; they scattered and fled for life. His officers got Ts‘ao Chên away to the eastward. The enemy chased them. As Ts‘ao fled there arose a great shouting, and up came a troop at full speed. Ts‘ao thought all was lost, and his heart sank, but it was Ssǔma, who drove off the pursuers.
Though Ts‘ao was saved he was almost too ashamed to show his face. Then said Ssŭma, “Chuko Liang has seized Ch‘ishan, and we cannot remain here; let us go to Weipin, whence we may try to recover our lost ground.”
​“How did you know I was in danger of defeat?” asked Ts‘ao Chên.
“My messenger told me what you had said, and I knew K‘ung-ming would try to seize your camp. So I came to your help. The enemy’s plan succeeded, but we will say no more about that wager. We must both do our best for the country.”
But the fright and excitement made Ts‘ao Chên ill, and he took to his bed. And while the men were in such a state of disorder Ssŭma was afraid to advise a return. They camped at Weipin.
After this adventure K‘ung-ming hastened back to Chʻishan. After the soldiers had been feasted and services recognised, the four discontented leaders, headed by Wei Yen, came to the tent to apologise.
“Who caused the loss?” said K‘ung-ming.
Wei Yen said, “Ch‘ên Shih disobeyed orders and rushed into the valley.”
“Wei Yen told me to,” said Ch´ên.
“Would you still try to drag him down after he rescued you?” said K‘ung-ming. “However, when orders have been disobeyed it is useless to try and gloze it over.”
He sentenced Ch'ên to death, and he was led away. Soon they brought his head into the presence of the assembled captains. Wei Yen was spared as there was yet work for him to accomplish.
After this, K‘ung-ming prepared to advance. The scouts reported that Ts‘ao Chên was ill, but was being treated by doctors in his tent. The news pleased K‘ung-ming, and he said to his officers, “If he dies they will surely return to Ch‘angan. They must be delayed by his sickness. He stays on so that his men may not lose heart. Now I will write him such a letter that he will die.”
Then he called up the men of Wei who had yielded, and said to them, “You are Wei men and your families are all over there: it is wrong for you to serve me. Suppose I let you go home?”
They thanked him, falling prostrate and weeping. Then K‘ung-ming continued, “Friend Ts‘ao and I have a compact, and I have a letter for him which you shall take. The bearer will be well rewarded.”
They received the letter and ran home to their own tents, where they gave their general the letter. Ts‘ao Chên was too ill to rise, but he opened the cover and read:—“The Prime Minister of Han, Chuko Liang, to the Minister of War, Ts‘ao Tzǔ-tan:
“You will permit me to say that a leader of an army should be able to go and come, to be facile and obdurate, to advance and retire, to show himself weak or strong, to be immovable as mountains, to be inscrutable as the operations of nature, to ​be infinite as the universe, to be everlasting as the blue void, to be vast as the ocean, to be dazzling as the lights of heaven, to foresee droughts and floods, to know the nature of the ground, to understand the possibilities of battle arrays, to conjecture the excellences and defects of the enemy.
“Alas! one of your sort, ignorant and inferior, rising impudently in heaven’s vault, has had the presumption to assist a rebel to assume the imperial style and state at Loyang, to send some miserable soldiers into Hsiehku. There they happened upon drenching rain. The difficult roads wearied both men and horses, driving them frantic. Weapons and armour littered the countryside, swords and spears covered the ground. You, the Commander-in-chief, were heart-broken and cowed, your captains fled like rats. You dare not show your faces at home, nor can you enter the halls of state. The historians' pens will record your—salaries; the people will recount your—infamies. Chung-ta (Ssŭma I) is frightened when he hears of battle fronts, you are alarmed at mere rumours. My men are fierce and their steeds strong; my great captains are eager as tigers and majestic as dragons. I shall sweep Ts‘inchüan bare and make Wei desolate.”
Ts‘ao Chên’s wrath rose as he read; at the end it filled his breast. He died that evening. His colleague sent his coffin to Loyang on a waggon.
When King Jui heard of the death, he issued an edict urging Ssǔma to prosecute the war, to raise a great army and fight with Chuko Liang.
A declaration of war was sent one day in advance, and K‘ung-ming replied that he would fight on the morrow. After the envoy had left, K‘ung-ming called Chiang Wei by night to receive secret orders. He also summoned Kuan Hsing and told him what to do.
Next morning the whole force marched to the bank of the Wei River and took up a position in a wide plain with the river on one flank and hills on the other. The two armies saluted each other’s appearance with heavy flights of arrows. After the drums had rolled thrice the Wei centre opened at the great standard and Ssǔma appeared, followed by his officers. Opposite was K‘ung-ming, in a four-horse chariot, waving his feather fan.
Ssǔma addressed him, “Our master’s ascension of the throne was after the manner of Yao, who abdicated in favour of Shun. Two emperors have succeeded and have their seat in the capital district. Because of his liberality and graciousness, my lord has suffered the rule of Shu and Wu lest the people should suffer in a struggle. You, who are but a peasant from Nanyang, ignorant of the ways of Heaven, wish to invade us, and you should be destroyed, but if you will examine your heart and repent of your fault and retire, then each may main​tain his own borders, and a settled state will be attained. Thus the people may be spared distress, and you will all save your lives.”
K‘ung-ming smiled and replied, “Our late Emperor entrusted to me the custody of his orphan son: think you that I shall fail to exert myself to the uttermost to destroy rebels against his authority? Your soldiers of the Ts‘ao family will soon be exterminated by Han. Your ancestors were servants of Han and for generations ate of their bounty. Yet, instead of giving grateful service, you assist usurpers. Are you not ashamed?”
The flush of shame spread over Ssŭma’s face, but he replied, “We will try the test of battle. If you can conquer, I pledge myself to be no longer a leader of armies; but if you are defeated, then you will retire at once to your own village and I will not harm you.”
“Do you desire a contest of captains, or of weapons, or of battle array?” asked K‘ung-ming.
“Let us try a contest of battle array,” replied Ssǔma.
“Then draw up your array that I may see,” said K‘ung-ming.
Ssŭma withdrew within the line and signalled to his officers with a yellow flag to draw up their men. When he had finished, he rode again to the front, saying, “Do you recognise my formation?”
“The least of my captains can do as well,” said K‘ung-ming, smiling. “This is called the 'Hung-yüan-i-ch‘i' formation.”
“Now you try while I look on,” said Ssŭma.
K‘ung-ming entered the lines and waved his fan. Then he came out and said, “Do you recognise that?”
“Of course; this is the pa-kua.”
“Yes; you seem to know it. But dare you attack?”
“Why not, since I know it?” replied Ssŭma.
“Then you need only try.”
Ssǔma entered the ranks and called to him three captains, Tai Ling, Chang Hu and Yüeh Lin, to whom he said, “That formation consists of eight gates of well-known names. You will go in from the east at the Gate of Life, turn to the southwest and make your way out by the Gate of Destruction. Then enter at the north, at the Open Gate, and the formation will be broken up. But be cautious.”
They started with Chang Hu leading, Tai Ling next and Yüeh Lin in rear, each with thirty horsemen. They made their way in at the Gate of Life amid the applause of both sides. But when they had got within they found themselves facing a wall of troops and could not find a way out. They hastily led their men round by the base of the line toward the south-west to rush out there. But they were stopped by a flight of arrows. They became confused and saw many gates, but they had lost their bearings. Nor could they aid each ​other. They dashed hither and thither in disorder, lost as in gathering clouds and rolling mists. Then a shout arose, and each one was seized and bound.
They were taken to the centre, where K‘ung-ming sat in his tent, and the three leaders with their ninety men were ranged in front.
“Indeed you are prisoners; are you surprised?” said K‘ungming, smiling. “But I will set you free to return to your leader, and tell him to read his books again, and study his tactics, before he comes to try conclusions with me. You are pardoned, but leave your weapons and horses.”
So they were stripped of their arms and armour and their faces blackened. Thus were they led on foot out of the array. Ssŭma lost his temper at sight of his men thus put to shame.
Said he, “After this disgrace, how can I face the other officers in the capital?”
He gave the signal for the army to fall on and attack the enemy, and, grasping his sword, led his brave captains into the fray and commanded the attack. But just as the two sides came to blows, Kuan Hsing came up, his drums rolling and men shouting, and attacked. Ssŭma told off a division from the rear to oppose him, and again turned to urge on his main body.
Then the army of Wei was thrown into confusion by another attack from Chiang Wei, who came up silently and joined in the battle. Thus three sides of the Wei army were engaged by three different divisions of the enemy, and Ssŭma decided to retire. However, this was difficult. The men of Shu hemmed him in and came closer every moment. At last, by a desperate push, he made an opening toward the south and freed his army. But he had lost six or seven out of every ten of his soldiers.
The Wei army withdrew to the south bank of the Wei River and camped. They strengthened their position and remained entirely on the defensive.
K‘ung-ming mustered his victorious army and returned to Ch‘ishan.
Now Li Yen sent an officer, a Tu-yu, named Kou An, from Jungan with a convoy of grain. This man was a drunkard and loitered on the road so that he arrived ten days late. K‘ung-ming, angry at the delay, upbraided him, saying, “This grain is of the utmost importance to the army and you delay it. Three days' delay ought to mean the death penalty; what can you say to this delay of ten?”
Kou was sentenced to death and hustled out. But two officers ventured to intervene. They said, “Kou An is a servant of Li Yen’s, and Li has sent large supplies of all sorts from the west. If you put this man to death perhaps others will not undertake escort duty.”
​K‘ung-ming then bade the executioners loose the offender, give him eighty blows and let him go.
This punishment filled Kou An’s heart with bitter resentment, and, in the night, he deserted to the enemy, he and his half dozen personal staff. He was taken before Ssŭma and told the tale of his wrongs.
“Your tale may be true, but it is hard to trust it,” said Ssŭma. “K‘ung-ming is full of guile. However, you may render me a service, and if you do, I will ask the king that you may be allowed to serve him and obtain a post for you.”
“Whatever you ask I will do the best I can,” replied the deserter.
“Then go to Ch‘êngtu and spread a lying report that K‘ungming is angry with the powers there and means to make himself emperor. This will get him recalled, and that will be a merit to you.”
Kou An accepted the treacherous mission. In Ch'êngtu he got hold of the eunuchs and told them his lying tale. They became alarmed for their own safety and told the Emperor all these things.
“In such a case what am I to do?” asked the Later Ruler.
“Recall him to the capital,” said the eunuchs; “and take away his military powers so that he cannot rebel.”
The Later Ruler issued an edict recalling the army.
“The minister has rendered many and great services since he led out the army; wherefore is he recalled?” said Chiang Wan.
“I have a private matter to consult him about,” said the king. “I must see him personally.”
So the edict was issued and sent to K‘ung-ming. The messenger was at once received as soon as he reached Ch‘ishan.
“My king is young, and there is some jealous person by his side,” said K‘ung-ming sadly. “I was just going to achieve some solid success; why am I recalled? If I go not, I shall insult my king; if I retire, I shall never get such a chance again.”
“If the army retire, Ssǔma will attack,” said Chiang Wei.
“I will retire in five divisions. Thus to-day this camp goes. Supposing that there are a thousand men in the camp, then I shall have two thousand cooking places prepared, or if there are three thousand men, then four thousand cooking places shall be got ready; and so on, increasing the cooking arrangements as the men are sent away.”
Yang I said, “In the days of old, when Sun Pin was attacking P‘ang Chüan, the cooking arrangements were decreased as the men were increased. Why do you reverse this, O Minister?”
“Because Ssǔma is an able leader and would pursue if he knew we were retreating. But he would recognise the probability of an ambush, and if he sees an increase in the cooking ​arrangements in a camp he will be unable to conclude whether the men have gone or not, and he will not pursue. Thus I shall gradually withdraw without loss.”
The order for retreat was given.
Confident of the effect that Kou An’s lying report would produce, Ssŭma waited for the retreat of the Shu army to begin. He was still waiting when the scouts told him the enemy’s camps were empty. Wishing to make sure, he rode out himself with a small reconnoitring party and inspected the empty camps. Then he bade them count the stoves. Soon after he paid a second visit, and again the cooking stoves were counted. The count showed an increase of a tenth.
“I felt sure that K‘ung-ming would have some ruse ready. He has increased the cooking arrangements, and so, if we pursue, he will be ready for us. No; we also will retire and await another opportunity.”
So there was no pursuit, and K‘ung-ming did not lose a man. By and by, men came in from Ch‘uank‘ou to say that the retreat was a fact and that only the cooking arrangements had been increased, not the men. Ssŭma knew that he had been tricked, and once more acknowledged sadly his rival’s superior guile. And he set out for Loyang.
When players of equal skill are matched, Then victory hovers between; Perhaps your opponent’s a genius, So put on your lowliest mien.
What happened when K‘ung-ming reached Ch‘êngtu will be told next.