The Three Kingdoms Volume 1 (76 page)

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as Cai Mao was going into the city he met Zhao Yun and his three hundred soldiers. Now Zhao Yun, who was drinking with the other military officers, had noticed some movements of men and horses and had at once gone into the banquet hall to see if all was well with his lord. To his great shock he found Liu Bei missing from his seat. He had become extremely anxious and rushed back to the guesthouse to look for him. There, he heard that Cai Mao had gone off to the west gate with troops. So he quickly took his spear, mounted his horse, and went with the escort in hot haste along the same road. Seeing Cai Mao near the gate he asked, “Where is my lord?”

“He left the banquet hall quite suddenly and I do not know where he has gone,” was the reply.

Now Zhao Yun was a man of prudence and had no desire to act hastily, so he urged his horse forward till he came to the river. There he was checked by a wide stream, without ford or bridge. At once he turned back and questioned Cai Mao sternly: “You invited my lord to a feast—what do you mean by going after him with armed troops?”

Cai Mao replied, “All the officials of the nine districts have assembled here. As chief officer I am responsible for their safety.”

“Where have you driven my lord?” asked Zhao Yun.

“They told me he rode quite alone out through the west gate but when I came here I did not see him.”

Zhao Yun was anxious and doubtful. Again he rode to the river and looked around. This time he noticed a wet track on the other side of the stream. He thought to himself, “Could it be that both my lord and his horse have leaped across the river…?” And he ordered his men to scatter and search, but they could find no trace of Liu Bei.

Zhao Yun turned again toward the city. By that time, however, Cai Mao had gone within. He then questioned the gate wardens and they all said that Liu Bei had ridden out at full gallop. That was all they knew. He would like to re-enter the city but was afraid lest he should fall into an ambush, so he started for home.

After that marvelous life-saving leap over the surging waves, Liu Bei felt elated but rather dazed. He could not help feeling that his safety was due to a special intervention of providence. Following a tortuous path, he urged his steed toward Nanzhang. Dusk was falling and the sun was waning in the west, but his destination seemed yet a long way off. As he was riding along he saw a young cowherd seated on the back of a buffalo, playing on a short flute.

“If I were only as happy!” sighed Liu Bei.

He reined in his steed and looked at the lad who stopped his beast, ceased playing on the instrument, and stared back at the stranger.

“You must be General Liu Xuan-de, who overcame the Yellow Turbans,” said the boy presently.

Liu Bei could not believe his ears.

“How can you know my name, a mere lad like you living in such a secluded place?” he asked incredulously.

“Of course I do not know you but my master often has visitors and they all mention Liu Bei, a man of medium height whose hands hang down below his knees and whose eyes are able to see his own ears. They say that he is the real hero of the day. Now you, General, look exactly the same as the man they talk about and so I think you must be he.”

“Well, who is your master?”

“My master’s surname is Sima, a compound surname, and his given name is Hui. He is a native of Yingchuan and his Taoist title is Shui Jing, or Water Mirror.”

“Who are your master’s friends, then?”

“They are Pang De-gong and Pang Tong of Xiangyang.”

“And what is the relationship between these two?” asked Liu Bei.

“Uncle and nephew. Pang De-gong is ten years older than my master and the other is five years younger. One day my master was up in a mulberry tree plucking the leaves, when Pang Tong arrived. He seated himself under the tree and they began to talk. All through the day they talked just like that, with one up in the tree and the other underneath, without betraying any sign of fatigue. My master is very fond of Pang Tong and calls him ‘younger brother.’”

“And where does your master live?”

“His farm house is right there in the wood ahead,” said the cowherd, pointing to it.

“I am Liu Bei. Take me to your master so that I can pay my respects to him.”

The lad led the way for about two
li
to a farm house. Liu Bei dismounted and went to the gate in the center. There he was greeted by the melodious sound of a lute played most skillfully and the music was extremely beautiful. He told his guide not to announce him then and stood there rapt by the melody.

Suddenly the music ceased. He heard laughter inside and a man soon appeared.

“Amidst the clear and subtle notes of the lute there suddenly rang out a high note and I know some noble man must have come,” said the man.

“That is my master,” said the lad, pointing to the man.

Liu Bei saw before him a very superior figure, slender and straight as a pine tree. Hastening forward, he bowed to him. The skirt of his robe was still wet from the leap over the river.

“You have escaped from a grave danger today, sir,” said Sima Hui.

Liu Bei was startled. The lad said to his master, “This is Liu Bei.”

Sima Hui asked him to enter and when they took their seats respectively as host and guest, Liu Bei glanced around the room. Piled on the shelves were many volumes of books and upon a stone couch lay a lute. From the window emerged a fine picture of pines and bamboo. The whole room breathed of refinement to its last degree.

“Where did you come from, sir?” asked the host.

“I happened to be passing this area and the lad guided me here so I was able to pay my respects to you, sir. I cannot tell what great pleasure it gives me.”

His host laughed. “You do not have to conceal the truth from me, sir. I know you must have just escaped from a grave danger.”

Then Liu Bei could no longer hold back the truth and so the story of the banquet and the flight was told.

“I knew it all from your appearance,” said his host. “Your name has long been familiar. But why is it that up to the present you are still unsettled?”

“I have suffered many setbacks in my life,” replied Liu Bei, “and so I am still down in the mire.”

“It should not be so—but the reason is that you lack the right person to aid you.”

“I am common enough myself, I know. But I have Sun Qian, Mi Zhu, and Jian Yong on the civil side, and for warriors I have Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Zhao Yun. These are all most loyal helpers and I depend upon them greatly.”

“Your fighting men are good, each able to oppose 10,000 men. The pity is you have no really able advisor to bring the best out of them. Your civilians are but pallid students of books, not men fitted to weave and control destiny.”

“I have also yearned to find one of those wise recluses who live among the hills. So far I have sought in vain.”

“You know what the great master Confucius said: ‘In a hamlet of ten households there must be one true man.’ Can you say that there is none?”

“I am foolish and uninstructed—I pray you enlighten me.”

“You have heard what the street boys sing:

In eight and nine begins decay,
Four years, then comes the fateful day,
When destiny will show the way,
And the dragon flies out of the mire straight!

“This song was first heard when the new reigning title Jian An was adopted. The first line refers to the eighth year of Jian An, when Liu Biao lost his first wife and his family troubles began. The next line relates to the approaching death of Liu Biao and the dispersing of his crowd of officers. The last two lines will be fulfilled by you, General.”

Liu Bei was surprised, yet pleased. He thanked him and said, “How dare I attempt to be that?”

Sima Hui continued, “At this moment the most remarkable talents of the land are all here and you, sir, ought to seek them.”

“Where can I find them? And who are they?” asked Liu Bei eagerly.

“If you could get either Fulong (Sleeping Dragon) or Fengchu (Phoenix Fledgling) to aid you, the empire will be yours.”

“But who are these men?”

His host clapped his hands, laughed and said, “Good, very good.”

When Liu Bei asked again, his host said, “It is getting late. You can spend the night here, General, and we will talk over these things tomorrow.”

He called the lad to bring wine and food for his guest and take his horse to the stable to be fed. After Liu Bei had eaten he was shown to a chamber beside the hall. He went to bed but he could hardly get to sleep, for the words of his host would not be banished. Suddenly he became fully awake at the sound of a knock at the door and a person entering. And he heard his host say, “Where are you from, Yuan-zhi?”

Liu Bei rose from his couch and listened secretly. He heard the man reply, “It has long been said that Liu Biao liked good men and despised bad men. So I went to see for myself. But that reputation is undeserved. He does like good men but he can’t use them, and indeed he hates wicked men, but he doesn’t dismiss them. So I left a letter for him and came away—and here I am.”

Sima Hui replied, “You are capable enough to be the advisor of a king and you ought to be able to find someone fit to serve. Why did you demean yourself by going to Liu Biao? Besides, there is a real hero right under your eyes and you don’t know him.”

“You’re absolutely right,” replied the stranger.

Liu Bei listened with great joy, for he thought this visitor was certainly one of the two geniuses he was advised to look for. He would have shown himself then and there but he feared he might be intruding. So he waited till daylight, when he sought out his host and asked, “Who was it that came last night?”

“A friend of mine,” was the reply.

Liu Bei begged for an introduction. His host said, “He wants to find an enlightened master to serve and so he has gone elsewhere.”

When he asked him about the visitor’s name the host only replied, “Good, good.” And when he tried to find out who Fulong and Fengchu were, all he could get from his host was the same mysterious reply.

Then, bowing low before his host, Liu Bei begged him to leave the hills and help him restore the House of Han. Sima Hui replied, “Men of the hills are unequal to such a task. However, there must be men far abler than me who will help you if you seek them.”

While they were talking they heard outside the farm men shouting and horses neighing, and a servant came in to say that a general with a large company of men had arrived. Liu Bei went out hastily to see who it was and found it was Zhao Yun and his men. He was much relieved and pleased. Zhao Yun dismounted and entered the house.

“Last night when I returned to our city,” said Zhao Yun, “I could not find you, my lord, so I followed at once and traced you here. Please return quickly as I fear there might be an attack on the city.”

So Liu Bei took leave of his host and the whole company returned to Xinye. Before they had gone far another troop appeared and, when they had come nearer, they saw it was Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. They met each other with great joy and Liu Bei told them of the wonderful leap his horse had made over the river. All marveled at the miracle.

As soon as they reached the city a council was called and Sun Qian said, “You ought first of all to send a letter to Liu Biao explaining what happened.”

The letter was prepared and Sun Qian bore it to Jingzhou, where he was received by Liu Biao, who asked him the reason for Liu Bei’s hasty flight from the festival. Then the letter was presented and Sun Qian related the intrigue of Cai Mao and his master’s miraculous escape. The furious prefect sent for Cai Mao at once and berated him soundly.

“How dare you try to hurt my brother?” and he ordered him out to be executed.

Liu Biao’s wife, Cai Mao’s sister, prayed with tears for a remission of the death penalty, but Liu Biao refused to be appeased. At this moment Sun Qian interposed. “If you put Cai Mao to death I fear my master will be unable to remain here.”

Cai Mao was reprieved but dismissed with a severe reprimand.

Liu Biao sent his elder son back with Sun Qian to apologize. When he reached Xinye, Liu Bei welcomed him and gave a banquet in his honor. After they had been drinking for some time, Liu Qi, the elder son of the prefect, suddenly began to weep. Liu Bei asked him why and he said, “My stepmother is always attempting to put me out of the way, and I don’t know how to avoid the danger. Could you advise me, uncle?”

Liu Bei exhorted him to be perfectly filial and nothing would happen.

The next day the young man took his leave and wept at parting. Liu Bei escorted him outside the city and, pointing to his steed, said, “I owe my life to this horse—had it not been for it I would have been a dead man.”

“It wasn’t the strength of the horse but your extraordinary good fortune, Uncle.”

They parted, the young man weeping heartbrokenly. On re-entering the city, Liu Bei met a person in the street wearing a hemp turban, a cotton robe held by a black sash, and black shoes. He was singing a song.

The universe is riven, alas! now nears the end of all,
The noble mansion quakes, alas! what beam can stay the fall?
A wise one waits his lord, alas! but hidden in the glen,
The seeker knows not him, alas! nor me, of common men.