Three Kingdoms Romance

by Guanzhong Luo

  “When they asked him what was his ambition, he would only smile and always compared himself with the great ancient scholars Guan Zhong and Yue Yi. No one could gauge his talents.”

  “How comes it that Yingchuan produces so many able humans?” said Liu Bei.

  “That old astrologer, Yin Kui, used to say that the stars clustered thick over the region and so there were many wise humans.”

  Now Guan Yu was there; and when he heard Zhuge Liang so highly praised, he said, “Guan Zhong and Yue Yi are the two most famous leaders mentioned in the Spring and Autumn and the Warring States Periods. They well overtopped the rest of humankind. Is it not a little too much to say that Zhuge Liang compares with these two?”

  “In my opinion he should not be compared with these two, but rather with two others,” said Water-Mirror.

  “Who are these two?” asked Guan Yu.

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

  Before the surprise called forth by this startling statement had subsided, Water-Mirror walked down the steps and took his leave. Liu Bei would have kept him if he could, but he was obdurate. As he stalked proudly away, he threw up his head and said, “Though Sleeping-Dragon has found his lord, he has not been born at the right time. It is a pity.”

  “What a wise hermit!” was Liu Bei's comment.

  Soon after the three brothers set out to find the abode of the wise man. When they drew near the Sleeping Dragon Ridge, they saw a number of peasants in a field hoeing up the weeds, and as they worked they sang:

  “The earth is a checkered board,

  And the sky hangs over all,

  Under it humans are contending,

  Some rise, but a many fall.

  For those who succeed this is well,

  But for those who go under rough.

  There's a dozing dragon hard by,

  But his sleep is not deep enough.”

  Liu Bei and his brothers stopped to listen to the song and, calling up one of the peasants, asked who made it.

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

  “Then he lives hereabout. Where?”

  “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 Liang 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 poet wrote of it thus:

  Not far from Xiangyang

  There stands, clear cut against the sky,

  A lofty ridge, and at its foot

  A gentle stream goes gliding by.

  The contour, curving up and down,

  Although by resting cloud it's marred,

  Arrests the eye; and here and there

  The flank by waterfalls is scarred.

  There, like a sleeping dragon coiled,

  Or phoenix hid among thick pines,

  You see, secure from prying eyes,

  A cot, 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 bamboos

  Replace the painted doorway screen.

  But look within and books you see

  By every couch, near every chair;

  And you may guess that common humans

  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 humankind.

  Without 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 harvest seems his only care.

  He waits until the thunderous call

  Shall bid him wake, nor sleep again;

  Then will he forth and at his word

  Peace over all the land shall reign.

  Liu Bei soon arrived at the door of the retreat, 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 Dynasty, Lord of Yicheng, Imperial Protector of Yuzhou, and Uncle of the Emperor. I am come to salute the Master.”

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

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

  “The Master left this morning early.”

  “Whither has he gone?”

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

  “When will he return?”

  “That also is uncertain. Perhaps in three days, perhaps in ten.”

  The disappointment was keen.

  “Let us go back since we cannot see him,” said Zhang Fei.

  “Wait a little time,” said Liu Bei.

  “It would be better to return,” said Guan Yu, “then we might send to find out when this man had come back.”

  So Liu Bei agreed, first saying to the boy, “When the Master returns, tell him that Liu Bei has been here.” They rode away for some miles. Presently Liu Bei stopped and looked back at the surroundings of the little cottage in the wood.

  The mountains were picturesque rather than grand, the water clear rather than profound, the plain was level rather than extensive, the woods luxuriant rather than thick. Gibbons ranged through the trees, and cranes waded in the shallow water. The pines and the bamboos vied with each other in verdure. It was a scene to linger upon.

  While Liu Bei stood regarding it, he saw a figure coming down a mountain path. The man's bearing was lofty; he was handsome and dignified. He wore a comfortable-looking bonnet on his head, and a black robe hung about his figure in easy folds. 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, saying, “Are you not Master Sleeping-Dragon, Sir?”

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

  “I am Liu Bei.”

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

  “Long have I known of you! I am very glad to see you,” replied Liu Bei. “And now I pray you be seated just where we are and let me receive your instruction.”

  The two men sat down in the wood on a stone, and the two brothers ranged themselves by Liu Bei's side.

  Cui Zhouping began, saying, “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 arrest the present disorder although you are a kindly man and, from the oldest antiquity, the correction of disorder has demanded stern measures. On the day that Liu Bang first put his hand to the work and slew the wicked ruler of Qin, order began to replace disorder. Good government began with the Supreme Ancestor, (BC 206), and endured two hundred years; two centuries of tranquillity. Then came Wang Mang's rebellion, and disorder took the place of order. Anon, arose Liu Xiu, who restored the Han Dynasty, and order once more prevailed. We have had two centuri
es of order and tranquillity, and the time of trouble and battles is due. The restoration of peace will take time; it cannot be quickly accomplished. 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 favor of Heaven travels an easy road, he who goes contrary meets difficulties. One cannot escape one's lot; one cannot evade fate.”

  “Master,” replied Liu Bei, “your insight is indeed deep, and your words of wide meaning; but I am a scion of the House of Han and must help it. Dare I talk of the inevitable and trust to fate?”

  Cui Zhouping replied, “A simple denizen of the mountain wilds is unfitted to discuss the affairs of empire. But you bade me speak and I have spoken; perhaps somewhat madly.” “Master, I am grateful for your instruction. But know you whither Zhuge Liang has gone?”

  “I also came to see him and I know not where he is,” said Cui Zhouping.

  “If I asked you, Master, to accompany me to my poor bit of territory, would you come?”

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

  And with these words Cui Zhouping saluted and left. The three brothers also mounted and started homeward.

  Presently Zhang Fei said, “We have not found Zhuge Liang, and we have had to listen to the wild ravings of this so-called scholar. There is the whole result of this journey.”

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

  Some days after the return to Xinye, Liu Bei sent to find out whether Zhuge Liang had returned, and the messenger came back saying that he had. Wherefore Liu Bei prepared for another visit.

  Again Zhang Fei showed his irritation by remarking, “Why must you go hunting after this villager? Send and tell him to come.”

  “Silence!” said Liu Bei, “The Teacher Mencius said, 'To try to see the sage without going his way is like barring a door you wish to enter.' Zhuge Liang is the greatest sage of the day; how can I summon him?”

  So Liu Bei rode away to make his visit, his two brothers with him as before. It was winter and exceedingly cold; floating clouds covered the whole sky. Before they had gone far, a bitter wind began to blow in their faces, and the snow began to fly. Soon the mountains were of jade and the trees of silver.

  “It is very cold and the earth is frozen hard, no fighting is possible now.” Said Zhang Fei. “Yet we are going all this way to get advice which will be useless to us. Where is the sense of it? Let us rather get back to Xinye out of the cold.”

  Liu Bei replied, “I am set upon proving my zeal to Zhuge Liang, but if you, my brother, do not like the cold, you can return.”

  “I do not fear death; do you think I care for the cold? But I do care about wasting my brother's energies,” said Zhang Fei.

  “Say no more,” said Liu Bei, and they traveled on.

  When they drew near the little wood, they heard singing in a roadside inn and stopped to listen. This was the song:

  Although possessed of talent rare,

  This man has made no name;

  Alas! The day is breaking late

  That is to show his fame.

  O friends you know the Lu Wang's tale:

  The aged man constrained to leave

  His cottage by the sea,

  To follow in a prince's train

  His counselor to be.

  Eight hundred feudal chieftains met

  Who came with one accord;

  The happy omen, that white fish,

  That leapt the boat aboard;

  The gory field in distant wilds.

  Whence flowed a crimson tide,

  And him acknowledged chief in war

  Whose virtues none denied;

  That Zhang Liang, a Gaoyang rustic,

  Fond of wine, who left, his native place

  And went to serve so faithfully

  The man of handsome face;

  And one who spoke of ruling chiefs

  In tones so bold and free,

  But sitting at the festive board

  Was full of courtesy;

  And one, that was he who laid in dust

  Walled cities near four score

  But humans of doughty deeds like these

  On earth are seen no more.

  Now had these humans not found their lord

  Would they be known to fame?

  Yet having found, they served him well

  And so achieved a name.

  The song ended, the singer's companion tapping the table sang:

  We had a famous founder,

  Who drew his shining sword,

  Cleansed all the land within the seas

  And made himself its lord.

  In time his son succeeded him,

  And so from son to son

  The lordship passed, held firm until

  Four hundred years had run.

  Then dawned a day of weaklier sons,

  The fiery virtue failed,

  Then ministers betrayed their trust,

  Court intrigues vile prevailed.

  The omens came; a serpent

  Coiled on the dragon throne,

  While in the hall of audience

  Unholy haloes shone.

  Now bandits swarm in all the land

  And noble strives with chief,

  The common people, sore perplexed,

  Can nowhere find relief.

  Let's drown our sorrows in the cup,

  Be happy while we may,

  Let those who wish run after fame

  That is to last for aye.

  The two men laughed loud and clapped their hands as the second singer ceased. Liu Bei thought full surely the longed for sage was there, so he dismounted and entered the inn. He saw the two merry-makers sitting opposite each other at a table. One was pale with a long beard; the other had a strikingly refined face.

  Liu Bei saluted them and said, “Which of you is Master Sleeping-Dragon?” “Who are you, Sir?” asked the long-bearded one. “What business have you with Sleeping-Dragon?”

  “I am Liu Bei. I want to inquire of him how to restore tranquillity to the world.”

  “Well, neither of us is your man, but we are friends of his. My name is Shi Guangyuan and my friend here is Meng Gongwei.”

  “I know you both by reputation,” said Liu Bei gladly. “I am indeed fortunate to meet you in this haphazard way. Will you not come to Sleeping-Dragon's retreat and talk for a time? I have horses here for you.”

  “We idle folks of the wilds know nothing of tranquilizing states. Please do not trouble to ask. Pray mount again and continue searching Sleeping-Dragon.”

  So he remounted and went his way. He reached the little cottage, dismounted, and tapped at the door. The same lad answered his knock, and he asked whether the Master had returned.

  “He is in his room reading,” said the boy.

  Joyful indeed was Liu Bei as he followed the lad in. In front of the middle door he saw written this pair of scrolls:

  By purity inspire the inclination;

  By repose affect the distant.

  As Liu Bei was looking at this couplet, he heard some one singing in a subdued voice and stopped by the door to peep in. He saw a young man close to a charcoal brazier, hugging his knees while he sang:

  “The phoenix dies high, O!

  And only will perch on a magnolia tree.

  The scholar is hidden, O!

  Till his lord appear he can patient be.

  He tills his fields, O!

  He is well-content and I love my home,

  He awaits his day, O!

  His books and his lute to leave and roam.

  As the song ended Liu Bei advanced and saluted, saying, “Master, long have I yearned for you, but have found it impossible to salute you. Lately Water-Mirror spoke of you and I hastened to your dwelling, only to come away disappointed. This time I have b
raved the elements and come again and my reward is here; I see your face, and I am indeed fortunate.”

  The young man hastily returned the salute and said, “General, you must be that Liu Bei of Yuzhou who wishes to see my brother.”

  “Then, Master, you are not Sleeping-Dragon!” said Liu Bei, starting back.

  “I am his younger brother, Zhuge Jun. He has another elder brother, Zhuge Jin, now with Sun Quan in the South Land as a counselor. Zhuge Liang is the second of our family.”

  “Is your brother at home?”

  “Only yesterday he arranged to go a jaunt with Cui Zhouping.” “Whither have they gone?”

  “Who can say? They may take a boat and sail away among the lakes, or go to gossip with the priests in some remote mountain temple, or wander off to visit a friend in some far away village, or be sitting in some cave with a lute or a chessboard. Their goings and comings are uncertain and nobody can guess at them.”

  “What very poor luck have I! Twice have I failed to meet the great sage.”

  “Pray sit a few moments and let me offer you some tea.”

  “Brother, since the master is not here, I pray you remount and go,” said Zhang Fei.

  “Since I am here, why not a little talk before we go home again.” said Liu Bei.

  Then turning to his host he continued, “Can you tell me if your worthy brother is skilled in strategy and studies works on war?”

  “I do not know.”

  “This is worse than the other,” grumbled Zhang Fei. “And the wind and snow are getting worse; we ought to go back.”

  Liu Bei turned on him angrily and told him to stop.

  Zhuge Jun said, “Since my brother is absent, I will not presume to detain you longer. I will return your call soon.”

  “Please do not take that trouble. In a few days I will come again. But if I could borrow paper and ink, I would leave a note to show your worthy brother that I am zealous and earnest.”

  Zhuge Jun produced the “four treasures” of the scholar, and Liu Bei, thawing out the frozen brush between his lips, spread the sheet of delicate note-paper and wrote:

  “Liu Bei has long admired your fame. He has visited your dwelling twice, but to his great regret he has gone empty

  away. He humbly remembers that he is a distant relative of the Emperor, that he has undeservedly enjoyed fame and rank. When he sees the proper government wrested aside and replaced by pretense, the foundation of the state crumbling away, hordes of braves creating confusion in the country, and an evil cabal behaving unseemly toward the rightful Prince, then his heart and gall are torn to shreds. Though he has a real desire to assist, yet is he deficient in the needful skill. Wherefore he turns to the Master, trusting in his kindness, graciousness, loyalty, and righteousness. Would the Master but use his talent, equal to that of Lu Wang, and perform great deeds like Zhang Liang, then would the empire be happy and the throne would be secure.