The Three Kingdoms Volume 2 (51 page)

Zhang Song looked at the speaker and found him to be a man with thin delicate eyebrows and small eyes set in a pale, spiritual face. Zhang Song asked the speaker his name and was told that he was Yang Xiu, son of the loyal Han minister Yang Biao. The young man was then employed in the commissariat of the prime minister. Well-read, intelligent, and eloquent he had the reputation of being clever and controversial. Zhang Song, who was aware of this, had a strong desire to challenge his rival, whereas Yang Xiu, proud of his own ability, was contemptuous of all other scholars. Perceiving the ridicule in Zhang Song’s speech, Yang Xiu invited him out to the library, where they could talk more freely.

After settling down in their respective seats as host and guest, Yang Xiu said, “The roads in the west are tortuous and precipitous. You must be quite weary after such a journey.”

“At my lord’s command I will not flinch, even if I need to go through fire or water,” replied Zhang Song.

“What sort of a country is this land of Shu?”

“Shu is the name for the group of districts known of old as Yizhou. The land is magnificent. It offers such splendid scenery as the Jing River and the Sword Pavilion. The land is also extensive. To travel back and forth through the country takes over two hundred and eighty days and the entire area measures 30,000 square
li
. The population is so dense that one can hear the crowing of cocks and the barking of dogs in his neighbor’s house. The soil is so rich and well-cultivated that droughts or famines are virtually unknown. Prosperity is general and the music of pipes and strings constantly greets the ear. The produce of the fields is piled mountain high. There is no place its equal.”

“But what of the people?”

“In liberal arts, the land has hailed such talents as Sima Xiangru;
*
in military arts, the brave Ma Yuan;

in medicine, the capable Zhang Ji;

in astrology, the profound Yan Zun.
§
We have more outstanding figures from so many walks of life than I can enumerate. How should I ever finish telling of them?”

“And how many equal to your ability are there in the service of your master?”

“Able men number about a hundred, all of them wise, bold, loyal, and magnanimous, well-versed in both civil and military arts. As for poor simpletons like myself, there are cartloads of them, bushels of them, too numerous to count.”

“What office do you hold, then?”

Zhang Song replied, “I am assuming the office of Bi Jia, but in fact I am quite unfit for the job. But, sir, may I inquire what post you hold in the government?”

“I am Zhu Bo (first secretary) in the residence of the prime minister,” replied Yang.

“I have known for long that members of your family held important offices in the government for many generations. Why then, sir, are you not in court service assisting the Emperor, instead of filling the post of a mere clerk in the house of the prime minister?” asked Zhang Song.

Yang Xiu’s face flushed with shame at this rebuke, and he replied lamely, “Though I am among the minor officials, yet my duties are of great importance and I am gaining a great deal of experience under the prime minister’s constant guidance. I hold the office in order to train.”

Zhang Song smiled. “If what I have heard is true, Cao Cao’s academic learning does not penetrate into the essence of the teachings of Confucius or Mencius, nor does his military skill attain the art of the strategists Sun Wu or Wu Qi. All he is good at is using brute force to acquire high position for himself. I do not see how he can give you any valuable instruction to enlighten your understanding.”

“Ah, sir, you live in too remote a region to know of the magnificent talents of the prime minister. But I will show you something.”

Yang Xiu called up an attendant and told him to bring a book from a certain case. He showed this to his guest, who read the title
New Book of Meng-de
. Then he opened it and read it through from the beginning to the end, the whole thirteen chapters. They all dealt with the art of war.

“What do you think this book is?” asked Zhang Song, when he had finished reading it.

“This is the prime minister’s discussions of the art of ancient and modern war written after the model of Sun Tzu’s
Thirteen Treatises
. You despised the prime minister for having no talent but will this not go down to posterity?”

“This book! Every child in Shu knows this by heart. What do you mean by calling it a new book? It was written by some obscure person of the time of the Warring States (475–221
B.C.
) and Cao Cao has plagiarized it. But he can deceive no one but you, sir!”

“This book is well-concealed inside his private library. It has never been given to the world, although thread-bound copies have been made. But you say that even school children in Shu know the book by rote. How can you try to deceive me like that?”

“Do you disbelieve me? Why, I can recite it.”

Then he repeated the whole book, word for word, from beginning to end.

Yang Xiu was extremely impressed. “So you can remember it after only one reading! What a marvelous genius you really are!”

He boasted not a handsome face,

Nor was his body blessed with grace.
His words streamed like a waterfall,
He read only once and knew it all.
Shu’s glories could he well rehearse,
His lore embraced the universe.

Of texts or notes of scholars
Once read, his memory held fast.

At leave-taking Yang Xiu said, “Remain a while in your lodging till I can petition the prime minister to give you an interview with the Emperor.”

Zhang Song thanked him and left. Yang Xiu went in to see Cao Cao and said, “Sir, why did you treat Zhang Song so off-handedly just now?”

“Because he spoke very rudely,” said Cao Cao.

“But you even tolerated Mi Heng. Why not with this man?”

“Mi Heng’s reputation for scholarship stood highest of all and I could not bear to put him to death. But what ability does this Zhang Song have?”

“To say nothing of his ability to speak like torrents and his talent for argument. I happened to show him your new book—he read it over once and could repeat it word for word. Such a prodigious memory is rarely found in the whole world. But he said the book was the work of an obscure person of several hundred years back and every school boy in the land of Shu knew it.”

“Could it be that the ancients and I agree in secret?” replied Cao Cao.

Therefore he ordered the book to be torn up and burned.

“I think you can present him to the Emperor, sir, and let him see the glory of the court.”

Cao Cao said grudgingly, “I am reviewing troops tomorrow on the western parade ground. You may bring him there and let him see what my army looks like so that he will go back and spread the news that after I have dealt with the south I will take the west in hand.”

Hence the very next day, Yang Xiu took Zhang Song over to the west parade ground, where a review of the mighty army was to be held. There were 50,000 of them, and when drawn up in order, they made a very brave show, with their gleaming helmets and bright new uniforms. Drums rolled to shake the heavens and weapons glittered in the sun. From all sides marched the various divisions of the forces, their gay banners fluttering and their spirited horses galloping.

Zhang Song glanced at the parade contemptuously. After a long while Cao Cao called up Zhang Song and, pointing to his army, said: “Have you ever seen such fine heroic soldiers in your country?”

“We never have such military parades in Shu—we govern men by righteousness.”

Cao Cao changed color and looked hard at the bold speaker, who gazed back at him without the least sign of fear. Yang Xiu shot quick warning glances at him, but he paid no notice. Cao Cao went on, “I regard the rat-class of the world as mere weeds, and for my army to reach a place is to overcome it, to give battle is to conquer. Those who are with me, live—but those who oppose me, die. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I know well that when you march out your army, you always conquer. I knew it when you attacked Lu Bu at Puyang; when you fought Zhang Xiu at Wancheng; when you met Zhou Yu at the Red Cliff; when you encountered Guan Yu at Huarong; when you cut off your beard and threw away your robe at Tong Pass; and when you hid in a boat to escape the arrows on the Wei River. On all these occasions no one could stand against you.”

Cao Cao was mad with rage to be thus taunted with his misfortunes and he roared, “You impudent pedant! How dare you bring up all my failures?”

He called his attendants to push him out and put him to death.

Yang Xiu ventured to say, “He does deserve death but he comes from the remote country of Shu bearing tribute and his death would have a very negative effect on all peoples in distant regions.”

But Cao Cao was too angry to be pacified. However, Xun You also put in a word for the offender and Zhang Song was eventually not executed but driven out. He returned to his lodging, collected his things, and left the city that night for home. On the way he thought to himself, “I didn’t expect Cao Cao to treat me with such arrogance when I came with the intention of giving him a province. I left Liu Zhang with a big promise but now I’m returning empty-handed and I’ll be the ridicule of my fellow countrymen. Surely I can’t go back. They say Liu Bei is a virtuous person. Let me go back by way of Jingzhou and see what manner of man he is. Then I can decide what to do.”

So he made for Jingzhou with his servants. He had reached the border of Yingzhou
*
when he met a troop of horsemen, at the head of whom rode an officer in a light robe, who pulled up, saying: “Are you not Zhang Song, the Bi Jia from West Chuan, sir?”

“Yes, I am,” said Zhang Song.

The officer quickly dismounted and saluted him politely. “I have been expecting you these many days. My name is Zhao Yun.”

Zhang Song also dismounted and returned the salutation saying, “Then you must be Zhao Zi-long of Changshan.”

Zhao Yun said that he was. “My lord knows that you have been through a long and arduous journey so he has asked me to wait for you here and offer you some wine and refreshments.”

At this some soldiers, kneeling, presented wine and food to Zhang Song.

Zhang Song thought, “It seems true what people say about Liu Bei. He is liberal and kind.”

After a few cups of wine the two took the road toward Jingzhou. By evening they arrived at the city, where Zhang Song was escorted to the guesthouse. Here, he found a large number of men waiting at the gate to welcome him with the beating of drums and every sign of respect. And the officer in command, bowing, said, “My brother sent me here to prepare the guesthouse for you to rest after your long and dusty journey. My name is Guan Yu.”

So Zhang Song dismounted and entered the guesthouse with his hosts, where they exchanged formal greetings and took their seats. In a short time a feast was spread out and both men were most cordial in their attention to the guest. This roadside banquet lasted till midnight, when they withdrew to rest.

The next morning, after breakfast they mounted and continued their journey. Very soon they met Liu Bei himself, accompanied by his two chief advisors, who deferentially dismounted and stood by the roadside when they saw the guest from a distance.

Zhang Song hurriedly dismounted to meet them. Liu Bei received him with extreme respect.

“Your exalted name has been long known to me, reverberating in my ears like thunder,” said Liu Bei. “I used to regret very much that cloudy hills and long distances had prevented me from receiving your instructions. Hearing that you are passing through, I have come specially to meet you and if you do not despise me I would like you to rest for a time in my desolate city, thus allowing me the satisfaction of attaining my long cherished desire to meet you. I should indeed hold myself fortunate.”

Naturally Zhang Song’s vanity was tickled and he joyfully accepted the invitation. They rode bridle to bridle into the city. When they reached the residence they exchanged formal salutes and compliments before they took their respective seats. And then a banquet was served. Throughout the meal Liu Bei chatted on about trivial everyday things, without breathing a word about the west country.

The visitor noted this steady avoidance and resolved to probe his host’s thoughts. So he asked Liu Bei, “How many other districts are in your possession besides Jingzhou, sir?”

Zhuge Liang replied, “Jingzhou is only our temporary abode—we have borrowed it from Wu. They are always sending messengers to demand its return. As our lord has married the daughter of Wu he is temporarily staying here.”

“Wu is quite large, with its six districts and eighty-one towns,” said Zhang Song. “The people are strong and the land is fruitful. Are they still not satisfied?”

Pang Tong said, “Our lord is an uncle of the Emperor yet he cannot take up any districts, whereas those others, thievish as they are, are using force to seize as much territory as they can, much to the indignation of the wise.”

“Noble sirs, pray say no more. What virtue do I have that I should expect more?” said Liu Bei.

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