“When we swore brotherhood in the Peach Garden, we pledged to live and die together. How can I enjoy riches and honors alone now that my brother is gone?”
At that moment Guan Yu’s son, Guan Xing, came in, wailing loudly. At the sight of the youth, Liu Bei again uttered a great cry and again fainted. By and by he came to, but during the whole day he kept weeping and swooning at intervals. For three days he refused all nourishment, and he wept so bitterly that his garments became blood-stained. Zhuge Liang and the others tried every means to soothe him, but he was inconsolable.
“I swear I will not live under the same sun and moon as Sun Quan,” he cried.
“They say that Sun Quan has sent the head of your brother to Cao Cao, but Cao Cao has buried the remains with the rites of a prince,” said Zhuge Liang.
“What does this mean?” asked Liu Bei.
“Well, that was Wu’s plan to divert your anger toward Cao Cao; but he saw through the subterfuge and so buried your brother with great honor, so that your anger may burn against Wu.”
“I will send my army to punish Wu and appease my wrath at once,” said Liu Bei.
“No, you must not do that. At present Wu wishes you to smite Wei, and Wei wishes you to attack Wu, each harboring the malevolent design of taking advantage of the quarrel. It is imperative, My Lord, to keep your army at home now. First prepare the funeral for Guan Yu, and wait till Wei and Wu are at war. That will be your time.”
The others supported Zhuge Liang, and Liu Bei finally began to take food again. An edict was issued throughout Shu enjoining officers of all ranks and their men to wear mourning garb. The prince himself went outside the south gate to summon the spirit home and to offer sacrifices. For another whole day he wailed for the deceased warrior, his brother.
Although Cao Cao had given an honorable burial to the remains of Guan Yu, he was continually haunted by the dead man’s spirit. Every night when he closed his eyes he saw Guan Yu, just as he knew him in the flesh. These visions scared him, and he sought the advice of his officials, who said that the old buildings might be haunted and suggested erecting a new residence.
“I want to build one and name it Jianshi,” said Cao Cao. “But there are no good architects.”
They told him that there was an architect, Su Yue by name, who was noted for his highly creative art. He was sent for and asked to work on the plans of this building. When Sun Yue presented the sketch of a nine-hall palace with pavilions and chambers, corridors and verandahs, Cao Cao was very much pleased.
“That is exactly what I want. But can you find the right timber for such a building?”
“I know a certain tree that will serve the purpose,” said the architect. “About thirty li from the city there is a pool called the Leaping Dragon, in front of which is a shrine. Beside that grows a fine pear tree about a hundred feet high, which will serve very well.”
Cao Cao at once sent men to fell the tree. But after one whole day’s labor, the workmen came back to say they could make no impression on it either with saw or ax. Cao Cao, incredulous, went there to see for himself. When he had dismounted and stood by the tree he could not but admire its size and proportions, as it towered above him, straight and without branches, till the wide-spreading and symmetrical top reached into the clouds. But he commanded the men again to fell it.
Several aged villagers came to plead with him. “This tree has stood here for centuries and is the haunt of some divine spirits,” they said. “Perhaps you should not cut it down.”
Cao Cao flared up. “For over forty years there has been no one, from the emperor to the commoner, who does not fear me wherever I go. Which spirit is this that dares to oppose my wishes?”
Drawing the sword he was wearing, he went up to the tree and slashed at its trunk. The tree groaned as he struck, and blood spattered all over his robe. Terror-stricken, he threw down the sword, mounted his horse, and galloped back to his palace.
But that night when he retired to rest he could not sleep. He rose at the second watch, went into the outer room, and sat resting by a low table. Suddenly there appeared a man dressed in black and carrying a sword, his hair flying about his shoulders. The man stopped in front of him and, pointing at him, cried out: “Behold the spirit of the pear tree. You intend to usurp the throne so you desire to build the new palace, but how dare you try to cut my sacred tree! I know your days are numbered and I have come to slay you.”
“Where are the guards? Come quickly!” called Cao Cao in terror.
The figure struck him with his sword. Cao Cao cried out and then awoke. It was a dream but his head ached terribly.
The pain was so severe that he could not stand it. The best physicians were immediately called in to treat him but they failed to relieve the terrible pain. All his subordinates were worried for his health.
Hua Qin said to his master, “My lord, have you heard of Hua Tuo?”
“Do you mean the doctor who cured Zhou Tai?”
“Yes, the same,” replied Hua Qin.
“I have heard of his fame, but I do not know how capable he is in his art.”
“His art in medicine has no match. If one is ill and calls him in he knows immediately whether to use drugs, or the needle, or the cautery, and the patient finds relief at once. When one suffers from an internal complaint and drugs are ineffectual, with a dose of anesthesia he throws the patient into a state of perfect insensibility and then opens the abdomen and washes the affected organs with a medicament. The patient feels no pain. When the cleansing is complete, he sews up the wound with thread, dresses it, and in a month or less the wound is healed. It is just as wonderful as that!
“One day he was walking along the road when he heard a man groaning with pain. ‘That is dyspepsia,’ he said. Further questions confirmed the diagnosis. He prescribed the juice of garlic as an emetic, and the man vomited a long worm. After this he was quite well. There was also the case of the prefect of Guangling, who suffered from a heavy feeling of the heart. His face was red and congested, and he had no appetite. Hua Tuo gave him a drug, and he threw up many wriggling parasites with red heads. The prefect asked him what had caused the illness, and the doctor told him that he ate too much strong-smelling fish. He could cure him this once, but in three years the disease would recur, and then nothing could save him. And truly enough, three years later the prefect died. Another man had a tumor between the eyes, and it itched intolerably. Hua Tuo examined it and said there was a bird inside it. All laughed at him when they heard his diagnosis. The tumor was then opened, and surely enough, a canary flew out. The patient was relieved. Yet another time a man was bitten on the toe by a dog, and two growths ensued, one of which itched intolerably and the other caused severe pain. Hua Tuo said the painful one contained ten pins, and the other a couple of wei-chi pips. No one believed him until after the two swellings were opened and these exact things were found. He is really of the same class of doctors as Bian Que* and Cang Gong.† He lives at Jincheng, not too far from here. Why not send for him?”
So Hua Tuo was summoned. As soon as he arrived he felt Cao Cao’s pulse and made a careful examination. Then he said to Cao Cao, “Your headaches are due to a malignant tumor in the skull. As the tumor is deep inside, swallowing drugs is futile. I propose to administer a dose of anesthesia, then open the skull and remove the tumor. That will eliminate the root of your headaches.”
“You want to kill me?” cried Cao Cao angrily.
“Sir, have you heard how I cured Guan Yu of his wounded arm? The poison had penetrated into the bones and I scraped them to cure him, and he did not flinch a moment. Your malady is trifling—why do you mistrust me?”
“A painful arm may be scraped, but how can you cut open a man’s head? You must be intimate with Guan Yu and you are trying to take this opportunity to kill me in revenge for his death.”
He told his guards to throw Huo Tuo into jail and have him tortured to find out who his accomplices were. Jia Xu pleaded for the physician on account of hi
s rare skill, but his intervention was of no avail, for Cao Cao was convinced that the physician was just another Ji Ping (see Chapter Twenty-Three) and wanted to take this chance to kill him. He ordered his men to press on with the interrogation.
One of the jailers was named Wu, and was known to everyone as Wu the Jailer. Out of respect for the doctor he saw to it that he was well fed.
Huo Tuo, grateful for his kindness, said to him one day, “I am doomed, I know. My only regret is that my Blue Book of medicine will be lost to later generations. You have been most kind to me, and as I have no other way of recompensing you, I will give you a letter for my wife, telling her to bring me the Blue Book, and I will give it to you so that you may continue my work.”
Wu the jailer rejoiced greatly, saying, “If I have this book I will give up this menial position of jailer and travel about the country healing the sick, so as to carry on your work and spread your virtue and reputation.”
Huo Tuo wrote the letter and gave it to Wu, who lost no time in going to the doctor’s house and bringing back the Blue Book. After Huo Tuo had read through the book carefully, he presented it to his jailer, who hid it at his home.
Ten days after this, Huo Tuo died in prison. Wu the jailer bought a coffin and had him buried. Then he quit his job and went home, intending to make a thorough study of the book. But when he got back he found, to his horror, his wife putting the very book on the fire. He hastened forward to snatch it away, but what was left of the book amounted only to a couple of pages. Exasperated, he vented his fury in cursing his wife.
She retorted: “What’s the use of that book? Even if you can learn to become such a skillful doctor as Huo Tuo, you will only end up dying in prison like him.”
It struck Wu the jailer that there was something in what she said, and he ceased grumbling at her. However, the final outcome of this episode was that the learning in the Blue Book was forever lost to the world, for what was left only contained a few operations concerning domestic animals.
Huo Tuo was the ablest of leeches;
And his diagnoses topped them all.
Alas! that he died, and his Blue Book
Is lost forever to the sight of all.
After the death of the doctor Cao Cao became worse, and his worries over his rivals in Wu and Shu further aggravated his illness. One day when he was preoccupied with thoughts of his enemies an envoy from Wu came with a letter from Sun Quan, which ran as follows:
“Your servant Sun Quan has long noted that Heaven means you, sir, to be the supreme ruler and looks forward to your early accession to the throne. With your army you will destroy Liu Bei and quash rebellion in the west. When that time comes, your servant will lead all his subordinates to submit the land of Wu to you.”
Cao Cao laughed as he read this. Then he showed the letter to his followers, saying, “That youth is trying to put me on a furnace!”
But they replied seriously, “The Hans have been feeble too long, while your virtue and merits are as high as the mountains. You are the one person that all the people look up to for leadership. Now even Sun Quan acknowledges himself as your servant. This shows that people of contrary influences are working to a common end. It is time you responded to the will of God and the desire of men and ascend the throne.”
Cao Cao smiled. “I have served the Hans for many years, and though I have acquired some merit, yet I have been rewarded with a princedom, the highest rank for me. I dare not aspire to even greater things. If Heaven has chosen me, then will I be as King Wen of Zhou.”*
Sima Yi put forward a proposal. “As Sun Quan declares himself your servant and promises obedience, you, My Lord, can confer a title upon him and assign to him the duty of attacking Liu Bei.”
As a result of his proposal Sun Quan was created General of Cavalry and Marquis of Nanchang, in charge of the governorship of Jingzhou.
However, Cao Cao’s condition worsened from day to day. One night he had a dream of three horses feeding out of the same manger. The next day he told this to Jia Xu, saying that he suspected Ma (meaning horse) Teng and his sons had something to do with it. “But Ma Teng is already dead,” he added. “How do you interpret the dream?”
“Horses are auspicious,” replied Jia Xu. “And to dream of horses coming to feed in the manger is a good sign. I do not think you need feel any misgivings.”
Cao Cao was comforted.
Cao dreamed three steeds together fed,
The vision seers could not explain.
None guessed how soon, when Cao was dead,
Another dynasty† would rule the land.
Ah, yes; Cao Cao had vainly wrought;
Of none avail each wicked wile,
For, later, in Wei court, there fought
Against him one with equal guile.
That night Cao Cao became worse. As he lay on his couch he felt dizzy, so he got up to rest against a table. Suddenly a shrieking noise rose like the tearing of silk. Peering into the darkness, he perceived with horror the bloody forms of many of his victims—the Empress, her two children and her father, Lady Dong, Dong Cheng, and the others—all standing in the gray clouds and whispering a demand for his life. He hastily threw his sword wildly into the air. Crash! And the southwest corner of the palace came down, and with the fall Cao Cao collapsed to the floor. His attendants helped him up and bore him to another building, where he might nurse his health in peace.
But he could find no peace. The next night he was disturbed by the ceaseless wailing of both male and female voices. When day dawned, Cao Cao sent for his followers and said to them: “Thirty years and more have I spent in the turmoil of war and have always refused to believe in things supernatural. But why am I like this now?”
“You should summon Taoist priests to offer sacrifices and prayers,” they said.
Cao Cao sighed. “The wise man said, ‘He who offends Heaven has no one to pray to.’ I feel that my fate is sealed and my days are at their end. There is no remedy.”
So he would not consent to call in the priests. The next day his condition deteriorated even further and his vision became impaired. Hastily he sent for Xiahou Dun, who came at once. But as he drew near the gate he, too, saw the same group of shadowy forms of the slain victims of Cao Cao’s cruelty. Overcome with fear, he fell to the ground. He was helped to his home but the incident left him a nervous wreck for the rest of his life.
Then Cao Cao called in his trusted followers, among whom were Cao Hong, Chen Qun, Jia Xu, and Sima Yi, that they might hear his last wishes. Cao Hong, speaking for the group, said, “My lord, take good care of your precious self and you will recover soon.”
But Cao Cao said, “Thirty and more years have I ruled the land and many a bold man has fallen before me. The only ones that remain are Sun Quan and Liu Bei. These two have not yet been destroyed. Now I am very ill, and I cannot be with you any more. Therefore I want to leave my family matters in your care. My first son, born of Lady Liu, unfortunately died young in battle. Now Lady Bian bore me four sons, as you know. The third one, Zhi, is my favorite, but he is vain and insincere, too fond of wine, and too undisciplined. Therefore he is not named my heir. My second son, Zhang, is valiant but imprudent. The fourth, Xiong, is weakly and may not live long. My eldest, Pi, is steady and serious, fit to succeed me, and I look to you to support him.”
Cao Hong and the others wept as they recorded his final wishes. After they left, Cao Cao told his servants to bring the rare spices that he had accumulated over the years and distributed them among his waiting maids, to whom he said: “After my death you must diligently attend to your womanly skills. You can make silken shoes for sale, and so earn your own living.”
He also told them to go on living in the Bronze Bird Tower. Every day they were to administer a sacrifice for him and present the eatables before his tablet, to the accompaniment of music by female musicians.
To avoid his remains being dug up, he commanded that seventy-two false tombs be built near Jiangwu in Zhangde Prefecture,
so that no one should know his actual burying place. And when these final orders had been given he heaved a deep sigh and wept, tears rolling down his cheeks like rain. A moment later he died. He was sixty-six, and the time was the first month of the twenty-fifth year of the period Jian An (A.D. 210).
A certain poet composed the following song in memory of Cao Cao:
I stood in Ye and saw the Zhang River
Go gliding by. Methought no common man
E’er rose from such a place. Or he was great
In war, a poet, or an artist skilled.
Perchance a model minister, or son,
Or famous for fraternal duty shown.
The thoughts of heroes are not ours to judge,
Nor are their actions for our eyes to see.
The man may be the first in merit, yet
His crimes may brand him chief of criminals;
And so his reputation is fair and foul.
His literary gifts may bear the mark
Of genius; he may be a ruler born,
But this is certain: he will stand above
His fellows, herding not with common men.
Takes he the field, then is he bold in fight;
Would he a mansion build, a palace springs.
In all things great, his genius masters him.
And such was Cao Cao. He could never be
Obedient; he a rebel was, foredoomed.
He seized and ruled, but hungered for power more;
Became a prince, and still was not content.
And yet this man of glorious career
When gripped by sickness, wept as might a child.
Full well he knew, when on the bed of death,
That all is vanity and nothing worth.
His latest acts were kindly. Simple gifts
Of fragrant spices gave he to his maids.
Alas!
The ancients’ splendid deeds or secret thoughts
We may not measure against our puny rule.
But criticize them, pedants, as you may
The Three Kingdoms: Welcome the Tiger Page 6
