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 braved 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.
“This is written to tell you that, after purification of mind with fasting; and of body with fragrant baths, Liu Bei will come again to prostrate himself in your honored presence and receive enlightenment”
The letter written and given to Zhuge Jun, Liu Bei took his leave, exceedingly disappointed at this second failure. As he was mounting, he saw the serving lad waving his hand outside the hedge and heard him call out, “The old Master is coming.”
Liu Bei looked and then saw a figure seated on a donkey leisurely jogging along over a bridge.
The rider of the donkey wore a cap with long flaps down to his shoulders, and his body was wrapped 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 is eve, the sky is overcast,
The north wind comes with icy blast,
Light snowflakes whirl down until
A white pall covers dale and hill.
Perhaps above the topmost sky
White dragons strive for mastery,
The armor scales from their forms riven
Are scattered over the world wind-driven.
Amid the storm there jogs along
A simple wight who croons a song.
'O poor plum trees, the gale doth tear
Your blossoms off and leave you bare.'“
“Here at last is Sleeping-Dragon,” thought Liu Bei, hastily slipping out of the saddle.
He saluted the donkey rider as he neared and said, “Master, it is hard to make way against this cold wind. I and my companions have been waiting long.”