The Three Kingdoms Volume 2 (5 page)

A eulogy was written for the old lady:

Wise Mother Xu, fair is your fame,

The history page glows with your name,
The family’s renown you made.

To train your son no pains you spared,
For your own body nothing cared.

You stand sublime as a high hill
Through simple purity of heart.

Bravely you extolled Liu Bei’s worth
And blamed Cao Cao for his evils.

Of blazing fire you felt no fear,
You blanched not when the sword came near,
But dreaded lest a willful son
Should dim the fame his fathers won.

Yes, Mother Xu was of one mould
With famous heroines of old,
Who never shrank from injury,
And even were content to die.

Eloquent praise, while still alive,
Was yours, and ever will survive.

Hail! Mother Xu, your memory,
While time rolls on, shall never die.

At the sight of his dead mother, Xu Shu wept so bitterly that he fainted and only recovered consciousness after a long time. When Cao Cao heard of it he sent mourning gifts, and in due course went in person to express his condolences. Xu Shu buried her mother in the south of the capital and kept a vigil at her tomb. He consistently rejected all gifts from Cao Cao.

At that time Cao Cao was contemplating an attack on Sun Quan in the southeast. His advisor Xun Yu argued that he should wait until the weather was milder and he agreed. But he began to prepare for the war. The waters in a river were redirected to form a lake, which he called the “Training Lake,” where he could accustom his men to fight on the water.

Now Liu Bei was preparing gifts for his intended visit to Zhuge Liang when his servants came to announce the arrival of a stranger of exceptionally austere appearance, wearing a lofty headdress and a wide belt.

“Could it be him?” said Liu Bei to himself. Hastily arranging his dress, he went to welcome the visitor. But the first glance showed him that it was the mountain recluse Sima Hui, also known as Water Mirror. However, Liu Bei was very glad to see him and led him into the inner hall, where he conducted the guest to the seat of honor and made his obeisance.

Liu Bei said, “Since leaving you that day in the mountains I have been overwhelmed with military affairs and so have failed to visit you as I should. Now that you have condescended to come and see me I feel that my ardent wishes have been gratified.”

“I hear Xu Shu is here. I have come expressly to see him,” replied the visitor bluntly.

“He has lately left for the capital. A messenger came with a letter from his mother telling him of her imprisonment by Cao Cao.”

“Then he must have fallen into Cao Cao’s trap!” said Sima Hui. “I have always known his mother to be a very noble woman, and even if she was imprisoned by Cao Cao she would not summon her son like that. That letter was undoubtedly a forgery. If the son did not go, the mother would be safe; if he went, she would be a dead woman.”

“But how could it be?” asked Liu Bei, astonished.

“She is a woman of the highest principles, who will be greatly mortified seeing her son under such circumstances.”

Liu Bei said, “Just as your friend was leaving he recommended to me a certain Zhuge Liang of Nanyang. What do you think of him?”

Sima Hui smiled and said, “If Xu Shu wanted to go, he could just leave. But why should he want to drag Zhuge Liang out to shed his heart’s blood?”

“Why do you say that, sir?” asked Liu Bei.

He replied: “Zhuge Liang has four closest friends—Cui Zhou-ping, Shi Guang-yuan, Meng Gong-wei, and Xu Shu. These four are devoted to the perfection of separate things. Only Zhuge Liang is able to perceive their overall meaning. He used to sit with his hands about his knees reciting poetry, and then, pointing to his companions, he would say, ‘You, gentlemen, could be governors or prefects in official life.’

“When they asked him what his ambition was he would only smile and refuse to answer. He often compares himself with the great scholars Guan Zhong and Yue Yi. No one could truly measure his talents.”

“Yingchuan is truly a wonderful place that produces so many able men!” said Liu Bei.

“Well, in the old days the astrologer, Yin Kui, had predicted that as the stars clustered thick over this district, there would emerge many wise men here.”

Guan Yu was present at the time and heard Zhuge Liang so highly praised. He said, “Guan Zhong and Yue Yi were famous men in the period of Spring and Autumn and their merits greatly surpassed the rest of mankind. Is it not too conceited for Zhuge Liang to compare himself with these two?”

“In my opinion he should not be compared with these two, but rather with two others,” said Sima Hui.

“Who are these two?’ asked Guan Yu.

“One of them is Lu Shang, who laid the foundations of the Zhou Dynasty so firmly that it lasted 800 years, and the other is Zhang Liang, who made Han glorious for four centuries.”

Before the surprise caused by this startling statement had subsided, the visitor walked down the steps and took his leave. Liu Bei would have kept him longer if he could, but he would not stay. As he stalked proudly away he looked up at the sky and said, laughing heartily: “Though the Sleeping Dragon has found his lord, he has not been born at the right time. It’s a pity.”

“What a wise hermit!” sighed Liu Bei in admiration.

The next day, the three brothers set out to find the abode of the wise man. When they were near the spot they saw several peasants hoeing in a field and as they worked they sang:

The earth is a chequered board,

And the sky hangs over all,
Under it men are contending,
Some rise, but many more fall.
For those who succeed, ‘tis well,
But for those who go under, rough.
There’s a dozing dragon nearby,
But his sleep isn’t deep enough.

They stopped to listen to the song and, calling one of the peasants, asked who composed it.

“It was made by Master Sleeping Dragon,” said the laborer.

“Where does he live?”

“South of this hill there is a ridge called The Sleeping Dragon and close by is a sparse wood. In it stands a modest cottage. That is where Master Zhuge takes his repose.”

Liu Bei thanked him and the party rode on. Soon they came to the ridge, most aptly named, for indeed it lay wrapped in an atmosphere of calm beauty.

A poem has been composed to describe it:

Not far from Xiangyang’s ancient walls

There stands clear cut against the sky,
A lofty ridge, and at its foot
A gentle stream goes gliding by.

The hills, curving upward to join
The scudding clouds, arrest the eye.
Gurgling water falls from the top
Meets the rocks as its journey stops.

There, like a sleeping dragon coiled,
Or phoenix hid among thick pines,
*
You see, secure from prying eyes,
A hut, reed-built on rustic lines.

The rough-joined doors, pushed by the wind,
Swing idly open and disclose
The greatest genius of the world
Enjoying still his calm repose.

The air is full of woodland scents,
Around are hedgerows trim and green,
Close-growing intercrossed bamboo
Replace the painted doorway screen.

But look within and books you see
By every couch, near every chair;

And you may guess that common men
Are very seldom welcomed there.

The hut seems far from human ken,
So far, one might expect to find
Wild forest denizens there, trained
To serve in place of human kind.

Outside, a hoary crane
^†
might stand
As warden of the outer gate;

Within, a long-armed gibbon come
To offer fruit upon a plate.

But enter—there refinement reigns;
Brocaded silk the lutes protect,

And burnished weapons on the walls

The green of pines outside reflect.
For he who dwells within that hut
Is talented beyond compare,
Although he lives the simple life
And farming seems his only care.

He waits until the thunderous call
Rouses him from his blissful dreams;
Then will he come and at his word
Peace over all the land shall reign.

Liu Bei soon arrived at the abode of the recluse, dismounted, and knocked at the rough door of the cottage. A youth appeared and asked what he wanted.

Liu Bei replied, “I am Liu Bei, General of the Han Empire, Lord of Yicheng, Prefect of Yuzhou and uncle of the Emperor. I have come to salute the Master.”

“I cannot remember so many titles,” said the lad.

“Then simply say that Liu Bei has come to visit him.”

“The master left early this morning.”

“Where has he gone?”

“His movements are uncertain. I do not know where he has gone.”

“When will he return?”

“That also is uncertain. Perhaps in three or five days, perhaps in more than ten.”

His disappointment was keen.

“Let’s go back since he’s not at home,” said Zhang Fei.

“Wait a little time,” said Liu Bei.

“It’s better to return,” said Guan Yu. “We can send someone to find out when he’ll be back.”

Liu Bei agreed. “When the Master returns, tell him that Liu Bei has been to visit him,” he said to the boy.

They mounted and left. On the way Liu Bei stopped and looked back at the surroundings of the little cottage in the wood. The hills, though not high, were picturesque; the streams, though not deep, were clear like crystal; the plain, though not extensive, was smooth and level; and the woods, though not big, were luxuriant with trees. It was a place where gibbons lived in harmony with cranes and pines vied with bamboo in verdure. It was a scene to linger upon.

While Liu Bei stood enjoying the view, he saw a figure coming down a mountain path. It was a handsome man with a lofty bearing. He wore a comfortable-looking headdress and a black robe. He used a staff to help him down the steep path.

“Surely that is he!” said Liu Bei.

He dismounted and walked over to greet the stranger, whom he saluted deferentially. “Are you not Master Sleeping Dragon, sir?” he asked.

“Who are you, General?” inquired the stranger.

“I am Liu Bei.”

“I am not Zhuge Liang, but I am a friend of his. My name is Cui Zhou-ping.”

“Long have I heard of your great name! I am very pleased to meet you, sir,” replied Liu Bei. “And now I wonder if I may ask you to sit where we are for I desire very much your instruction.”

So the two men sat down facing each other on some rocks in the wood and the two brothers ranged themselves by Liu Bei’s side.

Cui Zhou-ping spoke first. “General, for what reason do you wish to see Zhuge Liang?”

Liu Bei replied, “The empire is in confusion and troubles gather everywhere. I want your friend to tell me how to restore order.”

“You, sir, wish to address the problem of the present disorder, which shows you are a kindly man but, since the oldest times, order and disorder have alternated. From the day that the founder of the Han dynasty first staged the uprising to the time when he eventually overthrew the wicked rule of Qin, it was a process in which order eventually replaced disorder. Two centuries of tranquillity ensued till in the reigns of the emperors Ai and Ping came Wang Mang’s usurpation and disorder took over again. Soon, Emperor Guang-wu restored the Han Dynasty and order once more prevailed over chaos. We have had another two centuries of tranquillity, and the time of trouble and war is due. At present, order is just being replaced by disorder, so it is not yet time to aim for peace. You, sir, wish to get Zhuge Liang to regulate times and seasons, to repair the cosmos; but I fear the task is indeed difficult and to attempt it would be a vain expenditure of mental energy. You know well that he who goes with the laws of Heaven leads an easy life and he who acts contrary toils all the year round. One cannot escape one’s lot—one cannot evade fate.”

“Sir, your insight is indeed deep and your words profound,” replied Liu Bei, “but I am a scion of the House of Han and must try to uphold its power. Dare I talk of succumbing to the inevitable and fate?”

Cui Zhou-ping said, “I am but a simple denizen of the mountain wilds and not fit to discuss the affairs of the state. At your request just now I ventured to speak my mind, perhaps quite wrongly.”

“Sir, I am grateful for your instruction. But do you know where Zhuge Liang has gone?”

“I have also come to see him and I do not know where he is,” said Cui Zhou-ping.

“Could I ask you, sir, to come with me to my humble district?”

“Well, I am too dilatory, too fond of leisure and ease, and no longer have any ambitions. Maybe I will see you another time.”

And with these words he saluted and left.

The three brothers also mounted and started homeward. Presently Zhang Fei said, “We didn’t find Zhuge Liang and yet had to listen to the wild ravings of this so-called scholar. That is the whole outcome of this journey.”

“His words were also those of a deep thinker,” replied Liu Bei.

Several days after their return to Xinye, Liu Bei sent someone to find out whether Zhuge Liang had returned and the messenger came back to say that he had. Therefore Liu Bei prepared for another visit. Again Zhang Fei showed his irritation by remarking, “Why must you go hunting after this villager? Just send for him.”