# San Kuo/Volume 1/Chapter 57

CHAPTER LVII.
“Sleeping Dragon” Mourns at Ch‘aisang: “Phoenix Fledgeling” Intervenes at Leiyang.
In the last chapter it was said that a sudden rage filled the bosom of Chou Yü and he fell to the ground. Then he was carried to his boat. It only added to his rage and mortification to be told that his enemies and rivals could be seen on the top of one of the hills apparently feasting and enjoying some music. He lay grinding his teeth with vexation. “They say I shall never be able to get Ssǔch‘uan! But I will; I swear I will.”
Soon after Sun Ch'üan’s brother Yü arrived and Chou Yü told him his vexations. “My brother sent me to assist you,” said Sun Yü.
Sun Yü ordered the army to press forward and they got to Pach‘iu. There they stopped, for the scouts reported large forces under Liu Fêng and Kuan P‘ing barring the river route. This failure did not make the General any calmer.
About this time a letter from K‘ung-ming arrived, which ran like this:—“Since our parting at Ch‘aisang I have thought of you often. Now comes to me a report that you desire to take The Western Land of Streams, which I regret to say I consider impossible. The people are strong and the country is precipitous and defensible. The governor may be weak within, but he is strong enough to defend himself. Now indeed, General, you would go far and you would render great services, yet can any one foretell the final result? No; not even Wu Ch‘i the great General could say for certain, nor could Sun Wu be sure of a successful issue. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao suffered severe defeat at Ch‘ihpi; think you he will ever cease to hope for revenge? Now if you undertake a long expedition, will he not seize the occasion to fall upon Chiangnan and grind it to powder? Such a deed would be more than I could bear and I venture to warn you of the possible danger if haply you may condescend to regard it.”
The letter made Chou Yü feel very sorrowful and he sighed deeply. He called for paper and a pen and wrote to the Marquis Wu and, having done this, he said to his assembled officers, “I have honestly tried to do my best for my country but my end is at hand. The number of my days is accomplished. You must continue to aid our master till his end shall be achieved———”
​He stopped; for he had swooned. Slowly he regained consciousness and as he looked up to heaven he sighed heavily, “O God, since thou madest me; why didst thou also create Liang?”
Soon after he passed away; he was only thirty-six.
The battle at Ch‘ihpi made him famous; Though young in years he gained a veteran’s reputation. Deep feeling, his music declared its intensity; Subtle, with excess hospitality he foiled a plot; Persuasive, he once obtained a large gift of grain; Capable, he led an army of millions. Pach‘iu was his deathbed, there his fate met him. Sadly indeed they mourned him.
After his death his captains sent his dying memorial to the Marquis of Wu, who was most deeply affected and wept aloud at the sad tidings of his death. When he opened the letters he saw that Lu Su was named as the dead general’s successor. This is the letter:—
“Possessing but ordinary abilities, there was no reason why I should have been the recipient of your confidence and high office, but I have not spared myself in the leadership of the great army under my command that thereby I might prove my gratitude. Yet none can measure life and the number of our days is ordained by fate. Before I could achieve even my poor intentions my feeble body has failed me. I regret it without measure. I die with Ts‘ao Ts‘ao threatening and our northern borders disturbed and with Liu Pei in your family as though you were feeding a fierce tiger. None can foretell the fate of the empire in these weary days of stress and of peculiar anxiety for you.
“Lu Su is most loyal, careful in all matters and a fitting man to succeed to my office. When a man is near death his words are wise and if I may haply retain your regard I may die but I shall not decay.”
“He should have been a king’s counsellor,” cried Sun Ch‘üan, amid his tears. “He has left me, alas! too soon, and whom have I to lean upon? But he recommends his friend and I can do nothing better than take that advice.”
Whereupon he appointed Lu Su to the vacant command.
He also saw that the coffin of his beloved general was sent to Ch‘aisang ready for the funeral sacrifices.
The night of Chou Yü's death K‘ung-ming was gazing up at the heavens when he saw a bright star fall to the earth. “Chou Yü is dead,” said he with a smile. At dawn he sent to tell Yüan-tê, who sent men to find out, and they came back to say it was true; he had died.
“Now that this has come to pass what should we do?” said Yüan-tê.
​“Lu Su will succeed,” said K‘ung-ming. “And I see in the heavens signs of an assembly of captains in the east so I shall go. The mourning for Chou Yü will serve as a pretext. I may find some able scholar there to be of help to you.”
“I am afraid lest the captains of Wu harm you,” said Liu Pei.
“While Chou Yü lived I did not fear; is there anything to dread now that he is gone?”
However, he took Chao Yün as commander of his escort when he embarked for Pach‘iu, and on the road he heard of Lu Su’s succession to the late general’s post. As the coffin of Chou Yü had been sent to Ch‘aisang, K‘ung-ming continued his journey thither and, on landing, was kindly received by Lu Su. The officers of Wu did not conceal their enmity but the sight of the redoubtable Chao Yün, always close at hand, kept them from trying to hurt K‘ung-ming.
The officers brought by K‘ung-ming were arranged in order before the bier and he himself poured the libation. Then he knelt and read this threnody:—
“Alas, Kung-chin! Hapless are you in your early death. Length of days is in the hands of God, yet do men suffer and my heart is deeply grieved for you. I pour this libation that your spirit may enjoy its fragrance.
“I lament you. I lament your younger days passed in the companionship of Po-fu, when, preferring eternal principles to material wealth, you abode in a humble cottage.
“I lament your ripe strength when you guarded distant Pach‘iu, putting fear into the heart of Liu Piao, destroying rebels and ensuring safety. Married to a fair “I lament the grace of your manhood maid of the Ch‘iao family, son-in-law of a minister, you were such as would add lustre to the Han Court.
“I lament your resolute purpose when you opposed the pledge-giving. As in the beginning your wings drooped not, so in the end your pinions spread wide.
“I lament your abandon, when your false friend, Chiang, came to you at Poyang. There you manifested your lofty ideals.
“I lament your magnificent talents, proved in civil administration as in military science. With fire attacking the fierce enemy you brought his strength to weakness.
“I recall you as you were but yesterday, bold and successful, and I weep your untimely death. Prostrate I weep tears of sorrow. Loyal and upright in heart, noble and spiritual by nature, your life has been but three decades but your fame will endure for ages.
“I mourn for your affection. My bowels writhe with sorrow and my deep-seated sadness will never cease. The very heavens are darkened. The army is sad; your lord sheds tears; your friends weep floods.
​“Scanty of ability am I, yet even of me you begged plans and sought schemes to aid Wu to repulse Ts‘ao, to restore the Hans and comfort the Lius. But with you as the firm corner stone and your perfect dispositions, could the final result cause any anxiety?
“Alas, my friend! The quick and the dead are ever separate; they mingle never. If in the deep shades spirits have understanding you now read my inmost heart, yet hereafter there will be none on earth to comprehend.
“Alas, the pain!
“Deign to accept this my sacrifice.”
The sacrifice finished, K‘ung-ming bowed to the ground and keened while his tears gushed forth in floods. He was deeply moved.
Those who stood on guard by the bier said one to another, “People lied when they said these two were enemies; look at the sincerity shown in sacrifice.” And Lu Su was particularly affected by the display of feeling and thought, “Plainly K‘ungming loved him much, but Kung-chin was not broadminded enough and would have done him to death.”
Before the Sleeping Dragon emerged from his Nanyang retreat Many brilliant men had descended upon this earth; Since, O azure Heaven, ye made Kung-ching Why needed dusty earth produce a K‘ung-ming?
Lu Su gave a banquet for K‘ung-ming after which the guest left. Just as he was embarking his arm was clutched by a person in Taoist dress who said with a smile, “You exasperated literally to death the man whose body lies up there; to come here as a mourner is an open insult to Wu. It is as good as to say they have no other left.”
At first K‘ung-ming did not recognise the speaker but very soon he saw it was no other than P‘an T‘ung, or the “Phoenix Fledgeling.” Then he laughed in his turn, and they two hand in hand went down into the ship, where they talked heart to heart for a long time. Before leaving, K‘ung-ming gave his friend a letter and said, “I do not think that Sun will use you as you merit. If you find life here distasteful, then you may come to Chingchou and help to support my master. He is liberal and virtuous and will not disdain what you have spent your life in learning.”
Then they parted and K‘ung-ming went alone to Chingchou.
Lu Su had the coffin of Chou Yü taken to Wuhu, where Sun Ch'üan received it with sacrifices and lamentations. The dead leader was buried in his native place.
His family consisted of two sons and a daughter, the sons being named Hsün and Yin. Sun Ch'üan treated them with tenderness.
Lu Su was not satisfied that he was the fittest successor to his late chief and said, “Chou Kung-chin was not right in ​recommending me, for I have not the requisite ability and am unfitted for this post. But I can commend to you a certain able man, conversant with all knowledge, and a most capable strategist, not inferior to Kuan Chung or Yo I, one whose plans are as good as those of Sun Wu and Wu Ch‘i, the most famous masters of the Art of War. Chou Yü often took his advice and K‘ung-ming believes in him. And he is at hand.”
This was good news for Sun, who asked the man’s name, and when he heard it was P‘ang T‘ung, he replied, “Yes; I know him by reputation; let him come.”
Whereupon P‘ang T‘ung was invited to the Palace and introduced. The formal salutations over, Sun Ch'üan was disappointed with the man’s appearance, which was indeed extraordinary. He had bushy eyebrows, a turned-up nose, a dark skin and a stubby beard. So he was prejudiced against him.
“What have you studied,” asked he, “and what are you master of?”
P‘ang T‘ung replied, “One must not be narrow and obstinate; one must change with circumstances.”
“How does your learning compare with that of Chou Yü?” asked Sun.
“My learning is not to be compared with his in the least; mine is far greater.”
Now Sun Ch'üan had always loved his late general and he could not bear to hear him disparaged. This speech of P‘ang’s only increased his dislike. So he said, “You may retire, Sir; I will send for you when I can employ you.”
P‘ang T‘ung uttered one long sigh and went away. When he had gone Lu Su said, “My lord, why not employ him?”
“What good would result; he is just one of those mad fellows.”
“He did good service at the Red Wall fight, however, for it Iwas he who got Ts‘ao Ts‘ao to chain his ships together.”
“It was simply that Ts‘ao wished to chain his ships together. No credit was due to this fellow. In any case I give you my word that I will not employ him. That much is certain.
Lu Su went out and explained to P‘ang T‘ung that the failure was not due to lack of recommendation, but simply a whim of Sun Ch'üan’s and he must put up with it. The disappointed suitor hung his head and sighed many times without speaking.
“I fear you are doomed to constant disappointment here,” said Lu Su. “There is nothing you can hope for, eh?”
But still P‘ang T‘ung was silent.
“With your wonderful gifts of course you will be successful whithersoever you may go. You may take my word for that. But to whom will you go?”
“I think I will join Ts‘ao Ts‘ao,” said P‘ang T‘ung suddenly.
​“That would be flinging a gleaming pearl into darkness. Rather go to Liu Pei, who would appreciate you and employ you fittingly.”
“The truth is that I have been thinking of this for a long time,” said P‘ang T‘ung. “I was only joking just now.”
“I will give you a letter to Liu Pei, and if you go to him you must try to maintain peace between him and my lord and get them to act together against Ts‘ao Ts‘ao.”
“That has been the one desire of my life.”
He took the letter offered by Lu Su and soon made his way to Chingchou. He arrived at a moment that K‘ung-ming was absent on an inspection journey, but the doorkeeper announced him and said he had come to throw in his lot with Liu Pei. He was received, for he was no stranger in name.
When P‘ang T‘ung was admitted he made the ordinary salutation but did not make an obeisance and this, coupled with his ugly face, did not please his host.
“You have come a long and arduous journey,” said Liu Pei.
At this point the suitor should have produced his letters from K‘ung-ming and Lu Su, but did not. Instead he replied, “I hear, O Imperial Uncle, that you are welcoming the wise and receiving scholars, wherefore I have come to join your service.”
“The country is decently peaceful now and unfortunately there is no office vacant. But away to the northeast there is a small magistracy, Leiyanghsien, which needs a chief. I can offer you that post until there should be something more fitting.”
P‘ang T‘ung thought this rather poor welcome for a man of his talent. But his friend was absent, so he could do nothing but control his annoyance and accept. He took his leave and started.
But when he arrived at his post he paid no attention to business at all; he gave himself up entirely to dissipation. The taxes were not collected nor were lawsuits decided. News of this reaching Liu Pei, he was angry and said, “Here is this stiff-necked pedant throwing my administration into disorder.”
So he sent Chang Fei to the district with orders to make a general inspection of the whole district and look into any irregularities and disorders. But as he thought there might be some tact needed Sun Ch‘ien was also sent as coadjutor. In due course the inquisitors arrived at Leiyanghsien, where they were received by the officials and welcomed by the people at the boundary. But the magistrate did not appear.
“Where is the magistrate?” asked Chang Fei.
“Ever since his arrival, a hundred days ago and more, he has attended to no business, it spends his days from morn to night in wine-bibbing and is always intoxicated. Just now he is sleeping off a debauch and is not yet risen.”
​This raised Chang Fei’s choler and he would have dismissed the offender forthwith had not his colleague said, “P‘ang T‘ung is a man of great ability and it would be wrong to deal with him thus summarily. Let us enquire into it. If he is really so guilty we will punish his offence.”
So they went to the magistracy, took their seats in the hall of justice and summoned the magistrate before them. He came with dress all disordered and still under the influence of wine.
“My brother took you for a decent man,” said Chang Fei, angrily, “and sent you here as magistrate. How dare you throw the affairs of the district into disorder?”
“Do you think I have done as you say, General?” said P‘ang T‘ung. “What affairs have I disordered?”
“You have been here over a hundred days and spent the whole time in dissipation. Is not that disorderly?”
“Where would be the difficulty in dealing with the business of a trifling district like this? I pray you, General, to sit down for a while till I have settled the cases.”
Thereupon he bade the clerks bring in all the arrears and he would settle them at once. So they brought in the piles of papers and ordered the suitors to appear. They came and knelt in the hall while the magistrate, pencil in hand, noted this and minuted that, all the while listening to the pleadings. Soon all the difficulties and disputes were adjusted, and never a mistake was made, as the satisfied bows of the people proved. By midday the whole of the cases were disposed of and the arrears of the hundred days settled and decided. This done the magistrate threw aside his pencil and turned to the inquisitors saying, “Where is the disorder? When I can take on Ts‘ao Ts‘ao and Sun Ch'üan as easily as I can read this paper, what attention from me is needed for the business of this paltry place?”
Chang Fei was astonished at the man’s ability, rose from his seat and crossed over saying, “You are indeed a marvel, Master. I have not treated you respectfully enough but now I shall commend you to my brother with all my might.”
Then P‘ang T‘ung drew forth Lu Su’s letter and showed it to Chang Fei.
“Why did you not show this to my brother when you first saw him?” asked Chang Fei.
“If I had had a chance I would have done so. But is it likely that one would just take advantage of a letter of commendation to make a visit?”
Chang Fei turned to his colleague and said, “You just saved a wise man for us.”
They left the magistracy and returned to Liu Pei to whom they related what had happened. Liu Pei then seemed to be conscious of his error and said, “I have been wrong; I have behaved unjustly to a sage.”
​Chang Fei then gave his brother the letter in which Lu Su had recommended P‘ang T‘ung. Opening it he read:—“P‘ang Shih-yüan is not the sort of man to be met with in any day’s march. Employ him in some capacity where extraordinary talent is required and his powers will declare themselves. Beware of judging him by his looks or you may lose the advantage of his abilities and some other will gain him. This would be a misfortune.”
While he was feeling cast down at the mistake he had made, as shown by the letter, they announced the return of K‘ungming. Soon he entered the hall and the first question he put after the formal salutations was “Is Instructor-General P‘ang quite well?”
“He is in charge of Leiyang,” replied Yüan-tê, “where he is given to wine and neglects his business.”
K‘ung-ming laughed. “My friend P‘ang has extraordinary abilities and ten times my knowledge. I gave him a letter for you, my lord. Did he present it?”
“This very day I have received a letter, but from Lu Su. I have had no letter written by you.”
“When a man of transcendant abilities is sent to a paltry post he always turns to wine out of simple ennui,” said K‘ungming.
“If it had not been for what my brother said, I should have lost a great man,” said Yüan-tê. Then he lost no time, but sent Chang Fei off to the north to request P‘ang T‘ung to come to Chingchou. When he arrived Liu Pei went out to meet him and at the foot of the steps asked pardon for his mistake. Then P‘ang T‘ung produced the letter that K‘ung-ming had given him. What Yüan-tê read therein was this:—“As soon as the “Phoenix Fledgeling” shall arrive he should be given an important post.” Liu Pei rejoiced indeed as he read it, for had not Ssůma Hui said of the two men, Sleeping Dragon and Phoenix Fledgeling, that any man who obtained the help of either of them could restore the empire when he would? As he now had them both surely the Hans would rise again.
Then he appointed P‘ang T‘ung as Chuko Liang’s assistant and gave him general’s rank, and the two famous strategists began training the army for its work of subjugation.
News of these doings came to the capital and Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was told of Liu Pei’s two strategists and of the army in training and the stores he was accumulating and the league between his two chief enemies. And he knew that he had to expect an attack sooner or later. So he summoned his strategists to a council.
Said Hsün Yu, “Sun Ch'üan should be first attacked, because of the recent death of their ablest general Chou Yü. Liu Pei will follow.”
​Ts‘ao Ts‘ao replied, “If I go on such a distant expedition, Ma T'êng will fall upon the capital. While I was at Ch‘ihpi there were sinister rumours of this and I must guard against it.”
Hsün Yu said, “The best thing that occurs to stupid me is to obtain for Ma the title of 'Subduer of the South' and send him against Wu. Thus he can be enticed to the capital and got rid of. Then you can have no fear of marching southward.”
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao approved and soon Ma T'êng was summoned from Hsiliang, in the west.
Ma T'êng, called also Ma Shou-ch'êng, was a descendant of the famous leader Ma Yüan, styled General, “Queller of the Waves.” His father’s name was Ma Su. He had held a minor magistracy in the reign of Emperor Huan, but had lost it and drifted west into Shênsi where he got amongst the Ch‘iang, one of whose women he took to wife. She bore him a son, Ma T'êng. Ma T'êng was rather over the common height, and bold-looking. He was of a mild disposition and very popular. But in the reign of Emperor Ling these Ch‘iangs made trouble and then Ma T'êng raised a force and put it down. For his services he received the tile of General, “Corrector of the West.” He and Han Sui, who was known as “Guardian of the West,” were pledged brothers.
On receipt of the summons to the capital he took his eldest son, Ma Ch‘ao, into his confidence and told him some of his former life. “When Tung Ch'êng got the Girdle Edict” from the Emperor, we formed a society, of which Liu Pei was one, pledged to put down rebellion. However, we accomplished nothing, for Tung was put to death and Liu was unfortunate, while I escaped to the west. However, I hear that Liu Pei now holds Chingchou and I am inclined to carry out the plan we made so long ago. But here I am summoned by Ts‘ao Ts‘ao and what is to be done?”
Ma Ch‘ao replied, “Ts‘ao Ts‘ao has the command of the Emperor to call you and if you do not go that will mean disobeying an imperial command and you will be punished. Obey the summons in so far as to go to the capital, where you may be able to arrange to carry out your original intention.”
But his nephew, Ma Tai, held other opinions and opposed this. Said he, “Ts‘ao’s designs are unfathomable and if you go, Uncle, I fear you will suffer.”
“Let me lead the army against the capital,” said Ma Ch‘ao. “Can we not purge the empire of evil?”
But his father said, “You must take command of the Ch‘iang troops for the defence of our territory here. I will take with me your two brothers and your cousin. When Ts‘ao knows that you have the Ch‘iang at your call and that Han Sui is prepared to assist, he will hardly dare to work any harm to me.”
​“Father, if you must go be careful not to enter the city till you know exactly what plots and machinations are afoot.”
“I will certainly take great care, so do not be too anxious,” said the father. The order of march was prepared. The governor took five companies, with his two sons as leaders of the van and his nephew bringing up the rear. These set out along the tortuous road to the capital. At twenty li distance they camped.
When Ts‘ao heard of Ma T'êng’s arrival he called to him Huang K‘uei, one of his officers, and said to him, “Ma T'êng is to be sent against the south and I shall send you as adviser. You are first to go to his camp and express my congratulations on his arrival and say that as Hsiliang is so distant and transport very difficult, he is not to take too large an army of his own. I will send a large force. Also tell him to come in soon for audience of the Emperor. I will send him supplies.”
With these instructions Huang K‘uei went to Ma T'êng, who brought out wine and entertained him well. In his cups the messenger grew confidential and said, “My father perished at the hands of Li and Kuo and I have always nourished resentment. Now there is another rebel in power wronging our prince.”
“Who is that?” asked Ma.
“The wrong doer is that rebel Ts‘ao, of course. Do you mean to say you do not know?”
However, Ma was careful. He thought it very likely that these words were but a trap for him so he pretended to be greatly shocked and begged his guest to be careful lest he be overheard.
But he cared not. “Then you have quite forgotten the 'Girdle Edict,' eh?” shouted he.
Ma T'êng began to see he was sincere and presently became confidential in turn and told his guest all his schemes.
“He wants you to go in to audience; there is no good intention there. Do not go,” said Huang K‘uei. “You lead your men up close to the city and get Ts‘ao Ts‘ao to come and review them and when he comes, assassinate him.”
They two settled how this plan could be worked out and the messenger, still hot with anger and excitement, returned to his home.
Seeing him so disturbed in mind his wife asked him what was wrong. But he would tell her nothing. However, he had a concubine, born of the Li family, called “Fragrance of the Spring.” And it happened that she had an intrigue with the wife’s younger brother, Miao-tsê, who much desired to marry her. The concubine who also saw her lord’s displeasure, spoke of it to her paramour, and he told her she could probably draw from him what was wrong by a leading question. “Ask him ​what is the truth about two men, Liu Pei and Ts‘ao Ts‘ao? Who is the wicked one.”
That evening Huang K‘uei went to the apartments of his concubine and she presently put the question proposed by her lover. Her lord, still rather intoxicated, said, “You are only a woman; still you know right from wrong as well as I. My enemy and the man I would slay if I could, is Ts‘ao Ts‘ao.”
“But why? And if you wish to slay him, why do you not do something?” said she.
“I have done something. I have settled with General Ma to assassinate Ts‘ao at the review.”
“Fragrance of the Spring” of course told her paramour, who told Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, and he made his arrangements to defeat the scheme. He called up certain trusty captains and gave them orders for the morrow and, this done, he arrested Huang K‘uei and all his household.
Next day, as arranged, Ma and his western men came close up to the wall and among the flags and banners he discerned that of the Minister himself, whereby he knew that he would hold the review in person.
So he rode forward. Suddenly a bomb exploded and at this signal there appeared bodies of armed men right and left and in front, so that the western men were quite hemmed in. Ma T'êng then saw the mistake he had made and he and his two sons fought valiantly to free themselves from the trap. The youngest son soon fell. Father and son rode this way and that, seeking a way out, but failed on every side. Both were sorely wounded and when their steeds fell from their many arrow wounds, both were captured.
Ma T'êng and his son, and the miserable wretch who could not keep his counsel, were brought before Ts‘ao. Huang loudly protested his innocence. Ts‘ao then called in the witness Miao-tsê.
“That worthless scoundrel has spoiled all my plans!” cried Ma T'êng. “Now I cannot slay the rebel and purge my country. But it is the will of God.”
Father and son were dragged forth, the father uttering volleys of abuse all the time. And so three men came to harm in this adventure.
The son and father share one niche of fame, For purest loyalty their praise the same. To their own hurt the rebels they withstood, Content to die to make their pledges good. In blood the solemn oath they did indite To slay the wicked and preserve the right. A worthy father’s worthy son by western bride, Old Fu-po’s name his grandson glorified.
“I desire no other reward than the lady, 'Fragrance of the Spring' as wife,” said the betrayer.
​Ts‘ao smiled and said, “For the sake of a woman then you have brought a whole household to death. What advantage would there be in preserving such a miscreant?”
So he bade the executioners put both the traitor and the woman to death, with the Huang household. Those who saw the fearful vengeance sighed at its cruelty.
Through passion base a loyal man was slain, And she who shared his passion shared his fate; The man they served was pitiless in hate, And thus a mean man’s treachery was vain.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao did not desire to rouse the rancour of the men of Hsiliang, wherefore he proclaimed to them, “The intended treachery of your leaders was theirs alone.” However, he sent to secure the passes so that Ma Tai should not escape.
As has been said, Ma Tai led the rearguard. Before long the fugitives from the main army came and told him what had occurred at the capital. This frightened him so much that he abandoned his army and escaped disguised as a trader.
Having slain Ma T'êng, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao decided to set out on his expedition to the south. But then came the disquieting news of the military preparations of Liu Pei, whose objective was said to be Ssuch‘uan. This caused him alarm, for, as he said, the bird’s wings would be fully grown if he obtained possession of the west. He recognised the difficulty, but from among his counsellors there arose one who said, “I know how to prevent Liu Pei and Sun Ch'üan from helping each other and both Chiangnan and Hsich'üan will be yours.”
Chill death struck down the heroes of the west, Calamity approached the bold men of the south.
The next chapter will unfold the scheme.