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.”
“Silence!” reproached Liu Bei. “The great master Mencius said, ‘To wish to see the sage without following his way is like barring the door when you want him to enter.’ Zhuge Liang is the greatest sage of the day—how can I summon him?”
So Liu Bei rode again to make his visit, followed by his two brothers as before. It was winter and the weather was exceedingly cold—the sky was overcast with dark clouds. Before they had gone far, a piercing wind swept up and large snowflakes began to fall, soon turning the mountains and trees into an ethereal world of jade and silver.
“It’s very cold and the earth is frozen hard, not the kind of weather even for warfare,” said Zhang Fei. “Yet we’re going all this way to see a useless person. What’s the sense of it? Let’s rather get back to Xinye to avoid the cold.”
Liu Bei replied, “I’m set upon proving my zeal to Zhuge Liang, but if you, brothers, don’t like the cold, you can return.”
“I defy even death—do you think I’ll mind the cold? I’m only afraid that you might be wasting your energy,” said Zhang Fei.
“Say no more,” said Liu Bei, and they traveled on.
When they drew near the cottage they heard singing from 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.
Oh friends you know the 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 Gao
yang rustic,† fond of wine,
Who left his native place
And went to serve so faithfully
The man‡ of showy nose;
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, ‘twas he who laid in dust
Walled cities near four score—
But men of doughty deeds like these
On earth are seen no more.
Yet these two have perished,
Their deeds no longer remembered.
So whoever in this world now
Will talk about heroes of renown?
The song ended, then another man tapped the table and sang:
We had a famous emperor,§
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,
vile court intrigues prevailed.
The omens came; a serpent black*
Coiled on the dragon throne,
While in the Hall of Jade
Unholy halos shone.
Now bandits swarm in all the land
And ambitious lords strive,
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
And try to make a name.
The two men laughed aloud and clapped their hands as the second singer ceased. Liu Bei thought that his longed-for sage might be one of the two, 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, while the other had a strikingly refined face. Liu Bei saluted them and asked, “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 consult him on how to restore tranquillity to the world.”
“Well, neither of us is your man, but we are friends of his. My name is Shi Guang-yuan and my friend here is Meng Gong-wei.”
“I have long known you both by reputation,” said Liu Bei happily. “I am indeed fortunate to meet you in this way. Would you not come to the Sleeping Dragon’s retreat and talk with me for a while? I have horses here ready to take you there.”
“We idle folk of the wilds know nothing of the affairs of state. Do not trouble to ask, please. Pray mount again and go your way in search of the Sleeping Dragon.”
So Liu Bei and his brothers remounted and went on with the journey. At the little cottage, they dismounted and tapped at the door. The same lad answered the knock and Liu Bei asked him 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 a pair of scrolls on which were written the following two lines:
By purity manifest the inclination;
By repose affect the distant.
As he was looking at this couplet he heard someone reciting a poem in a soft voice, so he stopped by the door to peep in. He saw a young man sitting close to a charcoal brazier, hugging his knees while he sang:
The phoenix flies high, ah me!
And only will perch on a plane tree.
The scholar is hid, ah me!
Till his lord appears he can patient be.
He tills his fields, ah me!
He is well-content and he loves his cot,
He awaits his day, ah me!
And seeks comfort in his lute and his books.
As the song ended Liu Bei advanced and saluted the young man. He said, “Master, long have I yearned to meet you, but have been prevented by ill fortune. Lately Xu Shu recommended you to me and I hastened to your dwelling, only to come away disappointed. This time I have braved the elements and come again. Indeed my reward is great, for I am fortunate enough to see you.”
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, sir, you are not Master Sleeping Dragon?” said Liu Bei, starting back.
“I am his younger brother, Zhuge Jun. There are three of us: my eldest brother Zhuge Jin is now with Sun Quan in the southeast as a secretary. Zhuge Liang is my second brother.”
“Is your brother at home?”
“Only yesterday he went on a jaunt with Cui Zhouping.”
“Where have they gone?’
“Who can say? They may take a boat and sail away among the lakes, or go to visit monks in some remote mountain temple, or wander off to visit a friend in some far away village, or sit in some cave with a lute or a chess-board. Their comings and goings are uncertain and nobody has any clues.”
“How very unlucky I am! Twice have I failed to meet the great sage.”
“Please sit down for a few moments and let me offer you some tea.”
“Brother, since the master’s not here, I think you should remount and go,” urged Zhang Fei.
“Well, I’m here already, how can I just leave without a word?” said Liu Bei.
Then turning to his host he continued, “I was told that your worthy brother is very much skilled in military strategy and studies works on warfare every day. Do you know anything about that?’
“I do not know.”
“What’s the use of asking him?” grumbled Zhang Fei. “The wind and snow are getting worse—we ought to go back.”
Liu Bei turned on him angrily and told him to say no more.
The young man said, “Since my brother is absent I dare not detain you any longer. Let my brother return your call later.”
“Please do not take that trouble. In a few days I will come again. But I would like to borrow some paper and brush so that I could leave a note to show your worthy brother my sincerity.”
His young host produced the well-known “four treasures” (ink, ink-stand, brush, and paper) of the scholar and Liu Bei, thawing out the frozen brush between his lips, spread the thin sheet of paper and wrote:
“I, Liu Bei, have long admired your fame. I have visited your dwelling twice, but to my great disappointment I have not had the pleasure of meeting you. As a distant relative of the Emperor, I have undeservedly enjoyed fame and rank. When I see the ruling house weakening, the foundation of the state crumbling away, numerous lords creating confusion in the country, and an evil cabal behaving unseemly toward the Emperor, my heart and guts are torn to shreds. But although I have a real desire to assist, I am deficient in the necessary skills. Therefore I have turned to you, wise master, for help, trusting in your kindness, graciousness, loyalty, and righteousness. If you would only use your talent, equal to that of Lu Shang, and perform great deeds as Zhang Liang did for the founder of Han, then the empire would be happy and the throne would be secure.
“I am leaving you this brief note now and after purifying myself with fasting and fragrant baths, I will come again to bow before your honored presence and receive enlightenment.”
Having written the letter and given it to the host, Liu Bei politely took his leave, inwardly quite disappointed at this second failure. As he was mounting, he saw the serving lad waving to someone outside the hedge and heard him call out, “The old master is here.”
Liu Bei looked and then saw a figure seated on a donkey riding leisurely over a bridge.
The rider wore a cap with long flaps down to his shoulders and was clad in a fox fur robe. A youth followed him bearing a jar of wine. As he came through the snow he hummed
a song:
This eve, the sky is overcast,
The north wind comes with icy blast,
Light snowflakes whirl about until
A white pall covers dale and hill.
Perhaps above the topmost sky
White dragons strive for mastery,
Numerous scales from their forms riven
Are scattered o’er the world wind-driven.
Amid the storm there jogs along
A simple soul who croons a song
“Oh poor plum trees, the gale doth tear
Your blossoms off and leave you bare.
“Here at last is Master Sleeping Dragon,” thought Liu Bei, hastily slipping out of the saddle. He saluted the rider as he drew near and said: “Master, it is hard to make way against this cold wind. I have been waiting long.”
The rider got off his donkey and returned his salute, while Zhuge Jun interjected from behind: “This is not my brother—it is his father-in-law, Huang Cheng-yan.”
Liu Bei said, “I chanced to hear the poem you were reciting—it is superb.”
Cheng-yen replied, “It is a little poem I read in my son-in-law’s house and I recalled it as I crossed the bridge and saw the plum blossoms in the hedge. I did not know it would catch your ear, noble sir.”
“Have you seen your son-in-law lately?” asked Liu Bei.
“I have come especially to see him.”
At this Liu Bei bade him farewell and went on his way. The snowstorm was very grievous to bear, but worse than the storm was the grief in his heart as he looked back at Sleeping Dragon Ridge.
One winter’s day through snow and wind
Liu Bei rode forth the sage to find;
Alas! his journey was in vain,
And sadly turned he home again.
The stream stood still beneath the bridge
A sheet of ice draped rock and ridge,
His steed, benumbed with biting cold,
Crawled on as he was stiff and old.
The snowflakes on the rider’s head
Were like pear blossoms newly shed,
Or like the willow catkins light
They brushed his cheeks in headlong flight.
He checked his steed and looked around,
The snow lay thick on trees and mounds,
The Sleeping Dragon Ridge lay white
A hill of silver, glistening bright.
The Three Kingdoms, Volume 2: The Sleeping Dragon: The Epic Chinese Tale of Loyalty and War in a Dynamic New Translation Page 4