To Extinguish Fire With Wood
“Has any news come from Kingdom Ch’in?” asked the King of Wei as soon as he came to the court.
A year before, Kingdom Wei had been defeated by the invading army of Kingdom Ch’in at a place called Wha Yang. Strange to say, the victorious army of Ch’in did not advance farther and no demand for money or land as remuneration had been made. The King of Ch’in had always been merciless to the vanquished; why should he spare Wei? No, it couldn’t possibly be so. Then what was Ch’in up to? Could Ch’in be plotting to conquer Wei once and for all? The suspense was like a phantom sword hanging over the defeated kingdom. When would it fall? Anything would be better than this terrible suspense.
“Your Majesty,” said the prime minister, “there is still no news from Kingdom Ch’in.”
“Probably Ch’in has forgotten us,” the king said, with a wry smile on his haggard face.
“Some of us think,” said the prime minister, “that perhaps Your Majesty should make an offer to Ch’in to show our good faith.
“Oh? How?” queried the king.
“Your Majesty has been waiting for many months,” said a general. “Perhaps, the King of Ch’in also has been waiting to see what we would offer.”
“Perhaps,” said the prime minister again. “if Your Majesty sends an envoy to Ch’in bearing gifts and an offer to cede some land, the King of Ch’in might take a more lenient view toward us.”
“Your Majesty’s voluntary offer of land might keep Ch’in from invading us again,” said a white bearded minister in a faltering voice.
“Your Majesty, compared with the harsh treatment Ch’in gives to other defeated kingdoms, our country has been exceptionally lucky,” said another minister. “It is time that Your Majesty make a move to show that we are not unaware of Ch‘in’s leniency towards Wei.”
The king looked round the court at the careworn faces of his ministers and generals. How could these fear-ridden men stand another onslaught from Ch’in? All they could suggest was to cede land to Ch’in to buy peace - at least for a time. How I wish that itinerant scholar, Sun Ch’ang, were here. He would not want me to humble myself to Ch’in like this.
“Giving away a part of our country should not be taken too lightly,” said the king. “Ch’in has been lenient to us so far, I do agree. But a few days more won’t matter too greatly. It is my wish to consult Teacher Sun Ch’ang before making this important decision.”
“Your Majesty, may I have leave to speak?” asked a youngish looking official, bowing. At a nod from the king, he continued: “To wait for Teacher Sun Ch’ang is to delay indefinitely, for his whereabouts are unknown.”
“Your Majesty,” the prime minister rejoined hurriedly, “he is right. To wait for Teacher Sun might prove disastrous, for Ch’in may not like the delay. It is not improbable that Ch’in should attack us again.”
“If ceding a few cities to Ch’in could save the rest of my kingdom,” the king said, with puckered brows, evidently trying to convince himself rather than others, “I had better do so.”
“Your Majesty, I’m sure even Teacher Sun would agree that to appease Ch’in at this critical hour will be a wise step,” said the prime minister.
“Your Majesty must wait no more,” said the youngish looking official.
“So be it, then,” said the king, with despair in his heart. “Tomorrow we’ll decide who is to be the envoy and which cities we’II cede to Ch’in.”
News traveled fast. That night, Sun Ch’ang had heard about the proposed gifts and cities to be given to Ch’in as remuneration. He rode with all speed to the capital. At the crack of dawn he reached the closed gate of the city. As soon as the gate was open he rushed past the astonished gatekeeper. He was the first to arrive at the palace. The generals and ministers decked out in splendid court robes and official hats came one after another. These shameless cowards! How could they advise the king to surrender to Ch’in for no other reason than the fear in their hearts?
The king was pleasantly surprised when he saw Sun Ch’ang at court. “Where have you been, Teacher Sun?” he asked. “I’ve sent for you repeatedly, but no one knew your whereabouts.”
“Oh, Your Majesty,” Sun Ch’ang said, after a profound obeisance. He was deeply touched at the sight of the king’s emaciated face. There was such an air of doom in the courtroom that his heart was filled with remorse. How could he blame the courtiers while he, himself, had done nothing to help His Majesty? “Your humble servant has come with all speed to serve Your Majesty,” he said earnestly.
“You have been told of the proposed offer of gifts and land to Ch’in as indemnity for our defeat at Wha Yang?”
“Your Majesty’s humble servant has hastened here to advise against sending an envoy to Ch’in. Why this sudden offer of gifts and land to Ch’in, Your Majesty?”
“But Teacher Sun,” said the king, “Ch’in couldn’t have forgotten us or forgiven us. My ministers have advised me to cede some land to Ch’in, so that, Ch’in won’t have cause to attack us, or make too many demands.”
“Whoever advised Your Majesty thus was blinded by his own fear,” said Sun Ch’ang vehemently. “What made you think that Ch’in would refrain from invading us if we make a voluntary offer of indemnity?” he asked, looking directly at the prime minister.
“Why, Teacher Sun, many months have gone by since our defeat at Wha Yang,” said the prime minister. “His Majesty has suffered untold anxiety while waiting for Ch’in to name the terms of peace. We think it’s better that we should try to reach a peace agreement without further delay.”
“But Your Majesty,” cried Sun Ch’ang, turning to the king, “ceding land to Ch’in now would be like extinguishing a fire with wood. The more wood fed to the fire the brighter it will burn. The fire will burn out only when all the wood is gone.”
“That’s true. But what shall we do now?” said the king.
“Your Majesty,” said Sun Ch’ang, “it is time for us to realize that Ch’in has not been forgetful or merciful about our defeat at Wha Yang. Their withdrawal after the battle was because of the rumor that Kingdom Ch’i and Kingdom Chao were making ready to attack Ch’in. This has been a busy year for Ch’in.”
“Oh, Teacher Sun, is this really so?” asked the king, somewhat cheerfully.
“Your Majesty, I’ve traveled hither and thither and have learned many things about Ch’in. Instead of waiting for Ch’in to decide our fate, Your Majesty, we should do our utmost to strengthen our army and city walls so that we would be ready should Ch’in attack us again. Your Majesty has but limited land, while Ch’in is like a tiger whose appetite for power can never be satiated. Giving in a little land will only whet its appetite for more.”
The king took Sun Ch‘img’s advice. Instead of sending an envoy with an offer of land to appease Kingdom Ch’in, the king led the people in a nationwide attempt to rejuvenate the patriotic spirit of Wei. Everyone worked with a will. Sun Ch’ang, too, remained at the court to be ever ready to give counsel as well as obey the king’s commands. Years went by. Kingdom Ch’in never collected any land or gifts from Wei as indemnity for the victory at Wha Yang.
Note: PAO HSIN CHIU HUO - to extinguish fire with wood - is a satiric comment usually used to describe a person’s foolish or futile attempt to save something or someone from pending disaster. e.g. The loving mother’s paying her son’s gambling debts is like (PAO HSIN CHIU HUO) to extinguish a fire with wood.
KUO HO CH’E CH’IAO(File photo)
The Greedy King of Sung
King Chaung-kung of Kingdom Cheng fell seriously ill. He knew his days were limited, so he summoned his chief minister, Chi-tsu, to his bedside.
“You must have known how much I favor my second son, Prince Tzu-tu,” the dying king said. “I want him to be the heir to my throne.”
“But Your Majesty,” said Chi-tsi, “Prince Tsu-hu, being the first son, is by the right of birth the successor to the throne. And he has never done anything to give reason to disinherit him. Your Majesty, the people will censor such an injustice.”
The king acquiesced and sighed.
To avoid possible trouble between the two brothers, King Chaung-kung ordered his second son, Prince Tzu-tu, to go to Kingdom Sung. Shortly afterwards, King Chaung-kung died. The first son, Prince Tzu-hu, became King Tsao-kung of Kingdom Cheng. According to the custom of those days, the new king sent the chief minister, Chi-tsu, as his emissary of goodwill to call on the friendly kingdoms. When Chi-tsu came to Kingdom Sung, he was seized and thrown into prison.
“I am an envoy from Kingdom Cheng. Take me to your king,” he exclaimed in dismay. “What a shocking way to treat an emissary from a friendly kingdom.”
“You’ll know soon enough what’s to become of you,” a guard said.
Now the King of Sung was a mean and cunning man. Ever since Prince Tzu-tu’s arrival in Sung he had been plotting and scheming about how to profit by the split between the two brothers of Cheng. Chi-tsu’s coming to Sung as a goodwill emissary was the chance he had been waiting for. First, he ordered Chi-tsu thrown into prison; then he sent an official to speak to him. “Prince Tzu-tu has been entreating my royal master to send an army to help him take the throne of Cheng,” said the official to Chi-tsu. “After all, his father had wanted him to be the new king. It was you who caused him to be thus living in exile. It is His Majesty’s wish, now, that you should undo what you did by dethroning the present king upon your return to Cheng.” The official paused and looked at the silent Chi-tsu. “I would advise you to agree to His Majesty’s proposal, or else.” Again he paused. “His Majesty will have you killed first and then send a general to accompany Prince Tzu-tu back to Cheng to claim the throne.”
Chi-tsu’s remonstrations and expostulations brought no result whatsoever. Evidently the official had received explicit orders from his king. It was either death for Chi-tsu or acceptance of the proposed plan. Chi-tsu was convinced that forfeiting his life would be of no use to anyone. Thus he agreed to the dastardly proposal.
Meanwhile, the greedy king was talking to the exiled prince. He fabricated a story about how Chi-tsu had come to Sung by the order of the new king to demand his brother’s head.
“Your brother, the new king of Cheng,” he said to Prince Tzu-tu, “has offered three cities in exchange of your head. But how could I have the heart to do such a cruel thing?”
“My life is in Your Majesty’s hands,” said poor Prince Tzu-tu. “If Your Majesty would but help me to replace my brother as the new king - I’d give anything Your Majesty wishes.”
The greedy King of Sung smiled at the success of his plot. Then he ordered the envoy Chi-tsu brought in. In moving terms he spoke of his sympathy and compassion for the exiled prince and said he would help him claim the throne of Cheng. However, he wanted Prince Tzu-tu to state clearly what he would give Sung in return for the help. Then he made a few suggestions.
“Well, I’d hate to make it too difficult for you,” he said to the prince. “Besides the three cities, a pair of Pi (a jade with a round hole in the middle) made of pure white jade, and a yearly present of twenty thousand tan 1,200,000 kilos) of grain will do.”
Prince Tzu-tu agreed to these terms and signed a promissory note. Then and only then would the greedy King of Sung let Chi-tsu and Prince Tzu-tu depart.
When Chi-tsu returned to Cheng and explained the armed attempt of the King of Sung to place Prince Tzu-tu on the throne, all the officials were afraid. Since he would have little support from these faint-hearted officials, King Tsao-kung preferred to abandon his throne rather than fight the fearsome generals of Sung. He left the country to seek refuge in Kingdom Wei. So the exiled Prince Tzu-tu ascended the throne without bloodshed.
As soon as Prince Tzu-tu became King Li-kung of Cheng, an emissary came from Sung to demand the cities and the presents as promised to the greedy King of Sung. But it was impossible for the new King of Cheng to give away so much, even if he had wanted to. Kingdom Cheng was a small country and could not afford to give away three cities. The new king sent grain and oxen as a peace offering.
The greedy King of Sung was enraged at such a show of ingratitude by his former protege. He complained about it to the King of Lu hoping the latter would see to the enforcement of the agreement. The King of Lu did not approve of Sung’s mercenary ways. He offered to help the new King of Cheng resist the army of Sung in case of invasion. The combined forces of the two kingdoms would be too much for the army of Sung. But the King of Sung would not give up. He sent an envoy of Ch’i.
“Your Majesty has always been the champion of justice,” said the Sung envoy to the King of Ch’i. “King Li-kung of Cheng, the former Prince Tzu-tu, is an ingrate who will not keep the pact he signed. He wants to destroy the bridge behind him after crossing. My royal master sheltered him and sponsored his return to his kingdom but he has not fulfilled his promise. My royal master has sent me to ask for Your Majesty’s help so that the ungrateful King Li-kung can be punished.”
“This is a matter between Sung and Cheng,” replied the King of Ch’i coldly. “It is not my wish to intervene.”
As his efforts to win support from neighboring kingdoms failed, the greedy King of Sung finally gave up his futile attempt to punish King Li-kung of Cheng.
Note: (KUO HO CH’E CH’IAO) - destroy the bridge after crossing - is frequently used to describe the ingratitude of a person. e.g., “I introduced him to the director of our company but he doesn’t even seem to know me now. Indeed, he is a ‘destroy the bridge after crossing’ (KUO HO CH’E CH’IAO) kind of man.”
T’U CH’UNG PI CHIEN(File photo)
The Assassin
Whenever Prince Tan of Kingdom Yen thought of King Yen-tseng of Kingdom Ch’in, his blood boiled. Oh, that ingrate, oh, that sadistic tyrant. Prince Tan would grind his teeth till his jaws hurt.
In his youth, Prince Tan had spent many years in Kingdom Chao as a hostage. The then Prince Yen-tseng was born and brought up in Kingdom Chao where his father Prince Yi-jen was Ch‘in’s hostage to Chao. The two youngsters became close friends and as Prince Tan was two years older, he befriended Prince Yen-tseng in every way. Years later, Prince Yen-tseng became the king of the mighty Kingdom Ch’in; Prince Tan was sent to Ch’in as a hostage. Instead of renewing their old friendship as Prince Tan had hoped, the king took special delight in taunting and insulting his former friend. Prince Tan stood the cruel treatment as long as he could and then escaped.
Once he was back in Yen, he thought of revenge. But for Yen to challenge Kingdom Ch’in to battle would be madness. Kingdom Ch’in had been attacking Ch’i, Chao, Wei and Han without provocation. It was obvious that the King of Ch’in was planning to attack Yen and conquer it once and for all. Nothing could prevent such a fate, unless the sadistic tyrant could be killed. If only an expert swordsman could be found who would be willing to sacrifice his own life to assassinate the tyrant.
One day a swordsman named Ching K’o came to Kingdom Yen from Wei. Like many a scholar and soldier of that time, he was looking for adventure rather than wealth or honor. He was introduced to Prince Tan by a friend, Tien Kuang. His gallant air and princely carriage made a deep impression on Prince Tan. When Prince Tan learned that the newcomer was a skilled swordsman, he thanked Heaven for sending such a man to Yen. At last his dream of killing the King of Ch’in was about to come true.
Ching K’o was invited to live in the palace and treated with the highest honor. For days, Prince Tan and his guest feasted and played together without any mention of current events. One day Ching K’o asked why it was that the prince seemed so worried that heavy sighs often escaped him. After repeated urgings, the prince confided in Ching K’o his desire to assassinate the King of Ch’in.
“Unless we can be rid of him now,” said the prince sorrowfully, “all mankind will suffer a terrible fate. For Yen-tseng is a sadist who whets his appetite on human misery.”
“Oh, people do hate him, I know,” said Ching K’o, “He is such a cruel man. Even his own general, Fan Yü-chi, couldn’;t stand his atrocities and has escaped from Ch’in.”
“Oh well, to tell you the truth,” said the prince, lowering his voice, “he is here, this General Fan of Ch’in.”
“It’s good of Your Highness to give him refuge,” said Ching K’o. I’ve seen posters everywhere, offering high rewards for his head and heavy retribution against those who dare shelter him.”
The prince sighed and said: “How long can I shelter him or anyone? Before long, the tyrant will get us all. I pray Heaven will send me a chivalrous man who’ll be willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of humanity.” The prince looked intently at Ching K’o.
“Your Highness must have known that I’ve come to Yen to meet my friend. If my friend were here now, I would volunteer to go to Ch’in this moment, Your Highness,” said Ching K’o. “But I have to wait for him - we agreed to meet in Yen.”
“Oh,” said the prince with disappointment in his voice “When do you expect him?”
“Before the next moon,” replied Ching K’o.
“Oh, then we’ll wait for him,” said the prince.
In the meantime, the prince made careful preparations for Ching K‘o’s journey to Ch’in. He had obtained a small razor-sharp dagger and had it treated with poison. One prick by this dagger would be enough to kill a man. Then he had maps drawn about the rich district Tu K’ang of Yen. Ostensibly, Ching K’o would be the Yen envoy to offer Tu K’ang as a peace offering to the King of Ch’in. But it was evident he had to take the head of Ch‘in’s deserter, General Fan Yü-chi, to Ch’in as an evidence of sincerity.
Prince Tan could not order the general killed. Ching K’o offered to visit the general. Fan Yü-chi had met this honored guest of the prince’s at a feast before and he also knew Ching K’o was about to go to Ch’in.
“I’ve come to take leave of you, general,” said Ching K’o. “But before I go I need one more thing to make my mission convincing.”
“Oh?” General Fan Yü-chi showed surprise.
“The tyrant is a cunning and suspicious man. He would wonder why His Highness should shelter a deserter of his,” said Ching K’ lowering his eyes.
Fan Yu-chi suddenly understood Ching K‘o’s implication. It’s true, if Yen seeks friendship with the tyrant now, he thought, it would not look right for Yen to shelter a fugitive from Ch’in. I have to die! But if this man could kill the tyrant it would be worth it. Besides, isn’t this brave man going to die, too? He will be chopped to pieces at the court of Ch’in, no matter whether he kills the tyrant or not. I pray to Heaven my head can help him to kill the tyrant!
“Your honor,” Fan Yu-chi said rising from his chair, “I’ve lived only for the day of sweet revenge. Now nothing matters any more, for I’m sure the tyrant’s days are numbered. I’m glad to contribute my head to your cause.” Then he drew out his long sword and killed himself.
Now, all was ready for Ching K‘o’s journey to Ch’in: a humble letter offering the rich district Tu K’ang, maps of Tu K’ang, the little dagger and General Fan Yü-chi’s head carefully preserved in a big jar. But day after day Ching K’o tarried, for his friend had not arrived in Yen at the appointed time. This friend was the most skilled swordsman of his day; he and Ching K’o had gone through numerous adventures. The success of the mission depended so much on this friend that Ching K’o had to wait for him. But Prince Tan became more and more impatient at the delay - he mistook Ching K‘o’s unwillingness to depart as a sign of weakness and cowardice. Instead of waiting for his friend, Ching K’o finally consented to have Ch’in Wu-yang, a young patriot and a great admirer of Ching K‘o’s, as his assistant.
On the morning of his departure, Prince Tan and all the court accompanied. Ching K’o and his young assistant to the shore of the I River. There a farewell feast was laid out. Kao Chieh-li, a courtier of Yen, played the chu (a five-string lute) while Ching K’o sang. Soon all the people joined in. Tears streamed down their faces unheeded while their voices rose in crescendo till their hair stood up and their eyes protruded.
“Ooooo, the rustling wind...
The cold, cold I River!
The brave one is going away,
Never to return! Never to return! Never to return!”
Over and over they sang the refrain. Suddenly two of Ching K‘o’s new friends threw themselves into the river - they died first for they wanted him to know that they, too, were willing to sacrifice their lives but they were not fit to accompany him to Ch’in. At last, Ching K’o and his attendants crossed the I River. His friends, dressed in white as befitting a funeral procession, stood on the shore waving to him until he disappeared from view.
Three days later, a bearded man came to the capital inquiring after Ching K’o. When he was told that Ching K’o had already been gone for three days, he showed terrible anger. “Oh, the fool, the fool! How could he go by himself!” he was heard to grumble. “It’s too late now for me to catch up with him. Oh, Heaven above, why? Why should we suffer so? What cruel fate that I should arrive three days too late. Oh, Ching K’o...” Then he was gone, no one knew where.
When Ching K’o arrived at the capital of Ch’in, he called on Meng Chia, one of the tyrant’s favorite ministers, and presented him with numerous valuable gifts. He explained how his royal master, the Crown Prince Tan of Yen, had ordered him and the young assistant to come to Ch’in, to present the head of General Fan Yü-chi and to offer Tu K’ang, Yen’s richest district, to His Majesty the King of Ch’in.
Meng Chia was pleased with the gifts and he was favorably impressed by the manly but submissive air of Ching K’o. He reported the arrival of the envoy of Yen when the king was in good humor. Orders were given to receive the envoy of Yen on the following morning.
Ching K&’o, carrying the roll of maps of Tu K’ang, and Ch’in Wu-yang carrying the jar containing the head of Fan Yü-chi, were taken to the palace. Both of them were dressed in formal gowns which normally included a long sword hanging down from the belt on the left side. But the rule of the court of Ch’in was no weapons in the palace except those of the guards or by the king’s special permission. They came without the swords.
Rows of guards carrying shining swords lined the steps leading up to the main palace court. At the entrance to the huge hall, ferocious generals stood at attention. The king was seated on a large platform flanked by ministers and generals. Except for the footsteps of Ching K’o and Ch’in Wu-yang, not a sound could be heard. It was a terrifying scene. The young assistant Ch’in Wu-yang literally quaked in his boots. If Ching K’o had not given him a supporting hand just in time, he would have fallen in a faint.
“Your Majesty,” Ching K’o said, bowing low, “my young assistant trembles at the sight of so much grandeur and might, for Yen is but a small country. May Your Majesty forgive his ignorance.”
“It’s all right,” said the king. “You have brought some maps of Tu K’ang?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Ching K’o in a steady voice. “My royal master, His Highness Prince Tan, has commanded me to present to Your Majesty the richest district of Yen as his gift to the future Son of Heaven.”
“That’s interesting,” said the king in a sneering tone. “Ha, so Prince Tan has come to his senses. He knows now it doesn’t pay to cross me. Well, come forward and show me the maps.”
It seemed that Heaven was on his side. The tyrant had bade him come close to his person. Perhaps Ch’in Wu-yang’s inexperience was a blessing in disguise. His faltering steps had served to relax the king’s guard. Ching K’o walked slowly towards the king holding the roll of maps before him. The king began to unroll the maps, scrutinizing each carefully. As he came to the last one, the dagger came into view. With one leap, Ching K’o landed on the dais and seized the dagger. He stabbed at the king with all his might. The king’s robes were ripped but the king wrenched himself free unhurt. Had the dagger merely pricked him, he would have died of poison. But alas, fate would have it otherwise.
Ching K’o and his young assistant were both killed on the spot. They died without accomplishing their mission. Shortly afterwards, Ch’;in’s army conquered Kingdom Yen; Prince Tan and the royal family were slaughtered. A few years later, the tyrant became the First Emperor of the Ch’in Dynasty. His atrocities were unrivaled in the history of China.
Note: T’U CH’UNG PI CHIEN - Revealing The Dagger Hidden In The Maps - is used to describe the discovery of a hidden plot. e.g., Fortunately, after thorough investigation, (T’U CH’UNG PI CHIEN) the hidden plot was revealed.
WU WANG TSAI CHÜ(File photo)
Forget Not We Are In City Chü
Lord T’ien Tan, a nobleman of Kingdom Ch’i, was King Min-hwang’s cousin but he had not found favor at court. The king and most of the sophisticated courtiers disliked him for he had often spoken against their lavish way of living.
“Our country has long been the envy of the neighboring kingdoms, especially Kingdom Yen,” he said to the king one day. “It has been building up its army and storing up provisions while we’ve been squandering away our energy and resources on dissipated living. May Your Majesty take heed now, lest Kingdom Yen becomes so bold as to fall upon us like a hungry wolf.”
Lord T’ien Tan was thenceforth forbidden to attend court for uttering such offensive words. But just as he had feared, the army of Kingdom Yen crossed the border one day without warning. The invading Yen army under the command of General Yüeh I met with little resistance. The people of Chi fled from cities and villages wherever the invading army advanced. They cared only for their lives and personal belongings. The roads were cluttered with pedestrians, riders and vehicles of all kinds. City after city fell. The Yen army advanced so rapidly that in a few months it was approaching An Ping, the capital of Ch’i.
Strange to say, while war was raging in distant cities, An Ping enjoyed a period of flourishing prosperity. Nobles and wealthy families sought refuge there, bringing with them their riches and retinues of family musicians and dancers. Every other city might be abandoned; surely An Ping, the capital, would be defended. At any rate, before the enemy could get anywhere near An Ping, a peace treaty would have been signed. An envoy had been sent to Kingdom Yen to ask for peace. Ceding a few cities would end the invasion. An Ping was like a boom town. Life was gay with merrymaking.
But all of a sudden the enemy had reached nearby villages. With one accord, the king and the royal family, the nobles and the courtiers, the wealthy and the poor, the high and the low, the young and the old, sought to flee An Ping. Many were trampled to death in the stampede through the narrow city gates. Except for the stand of a few patriots, An Ping, the capital of Ch’i, fell without resistance. Of the 80 cities of Kingdom Ch’i, only two small ones were left: City Chi-mu, and City Chü, the ancestral home of the royal family. It was at City Chü that the king and his courtiers sought refuge, while Lord T’ien Tan, his royal cousin, fled to City Chi-mu.
General Yüeh I, the commander of the Yen army, was soon besieging City Chü. Seventy-eight cities had been conquered as easily as the splitting of bamboo; how could the tiny cities of Chü and Chi-mu withstand the onslaught of the victorious army? The chase was near an end. The capture of the vanquished King of Ch’i would not take much time or fighting. Surprisingly, for the first time in the expedition, General Yüeh I encountered strong opposition. The hitherto cowardly people of Ch’i had suddenly become invincible in City Chü. On the city wall men were massed behind the parapets carrying lances and swords; archers had arrows poised on bows; huge loads of rocks were hanging from the battlements over the city gates. Women could be seen busily plastering the crevices and broken bricks of the city-wall; acrid fumes rose, bespeaking of boiling oils ready to be used in the defense of the city. In the siege of this city, General Yüeh I had already lost two generals and hundreds of soldiers.
Those lucky enough to reach Chü were the elite of the people of Kingdom Ch’i. Now remorse overtook them. They should not have laughed at Lord T’ien Tan’s repeated warnings. Had they assisted the king in the defense of their country, the enemy would not have beaten them like this. They had run like ostriches hoping to hide their heads in the sand. City Chü was their last chance to prove themselves as men and patriots. It was their duty and privilege to defend their homeland.
Shortly afterward, King Hsiang-hwang succeeded his father, King Ming-hwang. There was but one goal in the new king’s mind: the recovery of the lost territory of Kingdom Ch’i. He and his queen shared all the hardships with the people. The king watched on the city wall and ploughed in the fields just like any other man; the queen wove and spun and undertook as many chores as any other woman. Men and women, old and young, high and low, took turns watching on the city wall so the enemy could not spring a surprise. Months passed; no one relaxed his vigilance. Finally, General Yüeh I thought that it would be wiser to concentrate his forces at the other remaining city, Chi-mu. So he led his army away from City Chü.
Now that the enemy had departed, the people could plough and sow in the fertile fields outside the city wall. How glad they were to be able to toil in these fields. No need to starve any longer! Life in City Chü was now quite peaceful and comfortable, but the people still lived frugally. They often said to one another: “Forget not we are in City Chü.”
To the overly optimistic, these words were a warning: “Beware, we are still away from our homesteads.” To the overly pessimistic, they were words of encouragement: “Do not loose heart! We still have City Chü and from here we will surely recover our lost territory.” After a few years, the stout-hearted people of Chü under the leadership of Lord T’ien Tan did succeed in driving out the enemy and restoring Kingdom Ch’i.
Note: WU WANG TSAI CHÜ – forget not we are in Chü – is used in the Republic of China today in the same sense as it was 2,600 years ago.
TZU SHIH CH’I KUO(File photo)
Reap What One Has Sown
Ch’iu Ling, a scholarly poet, once went to a Buddhist temple to call on a priest who was well known for his skill in playing chess. He was received very coldly - not even offered a cup of tea; and, of course, no mention of playing chess was made.
A second visitor arrived. He was a rich young man decked out in finery and accompanied by two attendants. The hitherto lethargic priest suddenly came to life. He was all smiles; platefuls of watermelon seeds, roast peanuts, honey-pickles, dates and fragrant tea were offered to the newcomer. After the departure of the second visitor, Ch’iu Ling took up his walking stick and made ready to leave, too.
“I came here because I thought that you were a learned priest and a good chess player,” he told the priest, “and we could enjoy a pleasant afternoon together. Why were you so uncivil to me while you couldn’t do enough for that young man?”
“You are mistaken, sir,” replied the priest, casting a sly glance at Ch’iu Ling’s threadbare robe. “You don’t know me well enough or you’d know that when I am polite to a person on my face, I’m not really polite in my heart; whereas, when I’m polite in my heart, I do not show it in my face.”
“Oh, I see,” said the enraged Ch’iu Ling. “Then let me give you a taste of your own principle.” He raised his walking stick and struck the priest’s shaven head heavily and rapidly. “I have to beat you to show that I like you in my heart - isn’t it? Now, you know how much I like you in my heart - don’t you?” Ch’iu Ling gave the priest several heavy blows more.
Before the frightened priest could recover from his amazement, Ch’iu Ling had departed, chuckling to himself.
Note: TZU SHIH CH’;I KUO - eat one’s own fruits - is used to describe the consequence resulting from a person’s own misdeeds; justified punishment for a person’s evils, debauchery, etc. e.g. He’ll soon (TZU SHIH CH’I KUO) eat his own fruits if he doesn’t change his ways.
The Restoration of Kingdom Yüeh
In a battle between the neighboring Kingdoms of Wu and Yüeh, King Ho-lu of Wu was fatally wounded by King Kou-chien of Yüeh. On his deathbed, King Ho-lu charged his son, the crown prince, with avenging his death. The prince tearfully pledged to his dying father that his first duty would be to kill King Kou-chien and conquer Kingdom Yüeh.
After the prince became King Fu-ch’a of Kingdom Wu, he devoted himself to study of war strategy and the improvement of his skill in archery and swordsmanship. Two years went by before he felt himself equal to the task of attacking Kingdom Yüeh. In a single battle he crushed the army of Yüeh and captured his enemy, King Kou-chien. He could now take over Kingdom Yüeh and have King Kou-chien publicly executed. His father’s death would be avenged in full.
But Po-pi, his prime minister, said to him: “Your Majesty, killing the captured King Kou-chien in cold blood would be taken as a brutal act by the world and to seize the territory of Yüeh might offend His Imperial Majesty the Emperor.”
“But you know I pledged my word to my father to avenge his death by killing King Kou-chien and conquering Kingdom Yüeh,” said King Fu-ch’a.
“There are many ways of revenge,” said Po-pi. “If Your Majesty keeps the captive king and queen in slavery, instead of killing them right away, they would suffer tremendously in body and soul - so much so that killing them would be more merciful. However the world would think kindly of Your Majesty’s clemency.”
“Hmm…” King Fu-ch’a was attracted by the idea.
“And if Your Majesty allows Yüeh to keep its sovereignty, its people would be grateful and would pay tithes and taxes to Your Majesty. This would be enjoying a harvest without labor. What’s more important, His Imperial Majesty would approve of Your Majesty’s kindly measures. Besides, Your Majesty could always take over the entire Kingdom Yüeh whenever it pleases Your Majesty to do so.”
King Fu Ch’a smiled fondly at Po-pi, his former playmate who was now his trusted prime minister. What he did not know was that the seemingly faithful Po-pi was in collaboration with the ministers of Kingdom Yüeh, Fan-Ii and Wen-tsung, the two ministers of Yüeh, had sent silver and gold, precious gems and beautiful dancers to Po-pi begging him to save the lives of their king and queen and to let Kingdom Yüeh retain its sovereignty. Following Po-pi’s treacherous counsel, King Fu-Ch’a led his victorious army homeward, much to the dismay of his generals and courtiers.
WO HSIN CH’ANG TAN(File photo)
“But Your Majesty,” said Wu Tze-hsu, the senior counselor, “Kingdom Yüeh has always been a threat to the safety of our kingdom. It has been like a sickness in the viscera (Hsin Fu Tzu Huan) preventing His Majesty, Your Majesty’s father, from undertaking many expeditions for fear that Kingdom Yüeh might attack during His Majesty’s absence. Now, at last, Your Majesty has conquered it. Why not take it once and for all?”
“I know what I’m doing,” said the king, severely. Wu Tze-hsu had been his father’s prime minister and most trusted friend. Although Po-pi had replaced him as prime minister, still, as a senior counselor, the aged retainer was much respected and loved by the courtiers and the people. So, he said in a gentler voice: “"I was thinking that perhaps His Imperial Majesty the Emperor might not approve of my taking over Kingdom Yüeh and terminating the name Yüeh which was endowed by His Imperial Majesty. However, I assure you, Kingdom Yüeh will be made to pay heavily - it will serve as a source of revenue to my country.”
Wu Tze-hsu hesitated but said nothing further. He had sensed the young king’s aversion to his intervention. Moreover, there was some truth in the possibility of incurring His Imperial Majesty’s displeasure.
King Kou-chien and his queen were spared. But was slavery better than death? Oh, how insufferable it was to be subjected to every whim and wish of their captor, the young and arrogant King Fu-ch’a! How their bodies ached and their souls writhed in anguish through the long sleepless nights! Ah, bitter, bitter life! The captives would have taken their own lives, if it had not been for the occasional visits of Fan-li, the faithful minister of Yüeh. Every now and then he would smuggle in some fruit or a comb or a dress for the queen. These offerings made life less unpleasant for the captive royal couple. Little by little, they learned the essence of composure and endurance. Their fate lay in King Fu-ch‘a’s hands. They must win their captor’s trust before they could think of regaining freedom. So they feigned devotion to their master and jailer, the proud arrogant King Fu-ch’a. Year after year, they toiled and waited; then the gods suddenly smiled on them. King Fu-ch’a fell ill and his life was in danger. King Kou-chien pretended to be concerned and helped the physicians to discern the nature of the sickness. Such devotion won King Fu-ch‘a’s gratitude. Contrary to his pledge to his father, King Fu-ch’a set the couple free upon his return to health.
Back in his own country, King Kou-chien swore vengeance in his ancestral temple. His sole purpose in life was revenge. But he knew only too well King Fu-ch‘a’s skill in archery and swordsmanship and the military might of the Wu army. He had to bide his time. First, he must have time t build up his army. So it was of paramount importance to keep the greedy hands – Po-pi’s and his followers – satisfied. Second, he must hide from the arrogant King Fu-ch’a his vengeful intentions; he must keep on sending tithes and taxes and rich gifts to King Fu-ch’a so as to keep him happy and unsuspicious. When his army was ready, and when the arrogant King Fu-ch’a should one day go away on an expedition, leaving Kingdom Wu unguarded, his vengeance would have its day.
For fear of succumbing to the comforts of easy living, King Kou-chien slept on faggots so that his body would not forget the bitter years in slavery, and he ate only after licking a piece of gall so that the bitter taste would remind him of his bitter sufferings (Wo Hsin Ch’ang Tan). Year after year, he sent the cream of his impoverished land to his hated enemy. Po-pi, the greedy prime minister, received a flow of silver and gold and other gifts. In return, Po-pi whispered kindly words about King Kou-chien in the king’s ear. To King Fu-ch’a, his former captive, King Kou-chien was a man overcome with gratitude for having been spared his life and permitted to return to his homeland.
There was a famed beauty in Kingdom Yüeh named Hsi-shih. She was so beautiful that when she laundered silk yarn in the brook of her village, the fishes sank down to the bottom for fear their ugliness would be offensive to her; and when she walked along the countryside, the flying geese fell down because her beauty had caused them to forget to flap their wings (Ch’en Yu Lo Yen).
One day, Hsi-shih was walking homeward with her fine brows puckered in a frown and one milky white hand held languidly over her heart because of a slight pain there; her expression’ was so bewitching that all who saw her stopped in admiration. An ugly girl called Tung-shih watched how Hsi-shih was attracting all the attention. She thought it was because of Hsi-shih’ frown. So she sallied forth with her thick brows also puckered in a frown and her coarse brown hand pressed over her heart. She presented such a hilarious picture that people could not help laughing at her (Tung Shih Hsiao P’in).
When Hsi-shih, the famed beauty, was sent to Kingdom Wu by King Kou-chien, she was immediately proclaimed queen by King Fu-ch’a. The hitherto stalwart warrior plunged into the deepest abyss of love. For days, the amorous king failed to hold court, much to the concern of Wu Tze-hsu and the loyal courtiers. King Fu-ch’a had never dreamed life could give so much bliss. One happy day followed another. The royal couple seemed to be oblivious of any but each other. Wu Tze-hsu sought for an audience with the king. It was cut short because Hsi-shih expressed horror at seeing the rugged bearded face of Wu Tze-hsu. To King Fu-ch’a, the queen’s wish was a command. Wu Tze-hsu was forbidden to come to court.
Hsi-shih had come to Kingdom Wu with two important missions - that of boosting the vanity and conceit of the arrogant King Fu-ch’a and of discrediting Wu Tze-hsu. It was not difficult to flatter King Fu-ch’a. His handsome features were manly; although in his 40s, he had the straight body of an athlete and he was both poetic and musical. As to Wu Tze-shu, strange to say, Hsi-shih had a secret respect for the senior counselor whom she had to subtly slander so King Fu-ch’a would not listen to his wise counsels. It was against her nature to be underhanded and treacherous, and the thought that she might eventually cause King Fu-ch‘a’s death gave her frequent heartaches. What wouldn’t she give to be free of her yoke so that she could love and help her husband like any other woman. But Fan-li, the faithful minister of Yüeh, who came often, ostensibly to bring tithes and gifts to King Fu-ch’a, reminded her of her duty to her king and country. Hsi-shih thanked the gods with all her heart when year after year went by blessedly uneventful. Five years - then the long awaited day came.
A courier had brought news that the covenant leader, King Ching-kung of Kingdom Ch’i, was dead. His son was in no way like his father either in ability or in soldiery. Kingdom Ch’i was now vulnerable as it had never been before. No king had as yet been acclaimed as the new covenant leader.
“Your Majesty, King Ching-kung’s death is an opportune event,” Po-pi said at court. “Now, at last, Your Majesty will win the high honor all kings covet - Your Majesty will of course be the new covenant leader.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” a follower of Po-pi’s chimed in. “With Your Majesty’s military might, none will dare to contest Your Majesty.”
And in the palace, Hsi-shih smiled sweetly when she spoke of her royal husband’s becoming the future covenant leader. But the pain of separation seemed to overwhelm her.
“If only Your Majesty would take me along,” she said with her fine brows puckered and a hand laid languidly over her heart, “I’d like to see with my own eyes how my beloved husband is acclaimed the leader of kings.”
“Oh, my queen, my queen,” said King Fu-ch’a, lovingly, “I’d do anything to please you. If you want me to be the covenant leader, then I’ll surely be so.”
King Fu-ch’a was surprised to see Wu Tze-shu the following morning. The senior counselor looked so old and wan that the king had no heart to upbraid him for coming to court without being summoned. As soon as the king was seated, Wu Tze-hsu asked leave to speak.
“Your Majesty, I’ve just been told about Your Majesty’s intention of going to Kingdom Ch’i to compete for the honor of the covenant leader.”
“It’s true,” said the king kindly. “Po-pi and many of my courtiers have advised me to take the opportunity of King Ching-kung’s death to win this honor for our kingdom.”
“Your Majesty, Kingdom Ch’i is such a great distance away,” said Wu Tze-hsu. “It’ll be folly to undertake such a long and expensive venture for no better reason than to compete for the honor of becoming the new covenant leader. Besides, Your Majesty, Kingdom Yüeh is like the sickness in the viscera (Hsin Fu Tze Huan). What if it should attack us during Your Majesty’s absence? With Your Majesty and the army away from home, our land would be easy prey.”
“Your Majesty, the senior counselor has not spoken wisely,” cried Po-pi before King Fu-ch’a could say anything. “King Kou-chien has been so grateful to Your Majesty. Everyone knows he is loyalty itself. How could the senior counselor speak of his attacking Your Majesty?”
“That’s true,” said King Fu-ch’a. “And I believe he’ll send me some able-bodied men to help me in my venture if I so desire.”
“Doesn’t Your Majesty know that King Kou-chien has been toiling day and night (or revenge?” asked Wu Tze-hsu. “He works in the fields together with his people while his queen sets the example of weaving so much silk and cloth every day. He sends costly gifts and pretty maidens to Your Majesty and Your Majesty’s ministers but he, himself, sleeps on a bed of faggots so that he won’t forget the disgrace he suffered in captivity. The deceitful cunning man waits for the day when Your Majesty should leave Your Majesty’s domain with little defense. I beseech Your Majesty not to endanger Your Majesty’s kingdom for the vain honor of becoming the new covenant leader.”
King Fu-ch’a was visibly moved by the aged senior counselor’s earnest words. Po-pi had always been afraid of the outspoken Wu Tze-hsu. He knew how to aggravate the king’s displeasure. So he said hastily: “Your Majesty, the senior counselor has not been fair to King Kou-chien. And if Your Majesty permits me to say so, it’s plain insubordination for him to speak of Her Majesty Queen Hsi-shih in such a way.”
Po-pi hoped his insinuation - Wu Tze-hsu’s remark about pretty maidens from Yüeh was meant to insult the queen - would enrage the king.
“Who gave you permission to come to court?” King Fu-ch’a shouted at Wu Tse-hsu. “And how dare you to speak of the queen in this way? Be gone, I command you. I’ll deal with you when I return home as the covenant leader.”
“If Your Majesty will not heed my words....” Wu Tze-hsu had no chance to speak further for Po-pi had ordered two soldiers to force the senior counselor to leave court.
While preparations for the campaign against Kingdom Ch’i proceeded, King Kou-chien sent grain, horses and weapons as his offerings to the future covenant leader. Whatever doubts King Fu-ch’a had were totally removed. The day for his departure came. King Fu-ch’a took leave of his beloved Queen Hsi-shih and rode off amidst the cheers of Po-pi and his followers.
As soon as King Fu-ch’a was well away, King Kou-chien attacked Kingdom Wu. When the news reached King Fu-ch’a he was already engaged in a battle with the army of Ch’i. As he hastily withdrew his troops in order to hasten home, he suffered heavy losses. By the time he reached the capital, King Kou-chien had taken all the cities. His weary footsore troops were no match for the victorious army of Yüeh. What made him loose heart altogether was that even Queen Hsi-hsu had left the palace. Wu Tzu-hsu, his father’s most trusted friend had been killed. Everyone had left him and Po-pi, oh, if only he had not listened to this treacherous man! Finally, the former mighty King Fu-ch’a was forced to beg for a truce, stating that he would surrender and ask for nothing more than the preservation of his ancestral temples. King Kou-chien would promise nothing. King Fu-ch’a had to flee from his capital. At a place called Yang-shan the Yüeh troops, under the joint command of Fan-li and Wen-tsung, the· two ministers of Yüeh, surrounded him. As a last resort, King Fu-ch’a wrote a letter. He tied it to an arrow and shot it into the Yüeh camp.
“...when no hares are left,” he wrote in the letter, “hounds are needed no more; when the enemy has fallen, counselors are needed no longer (T’u Ssu Kou p’eng). Why not preserve Kingdom Wu for your future refuge?”
Fan-li read the letter without comment. Wen-tsung, however, wrote a letter in reply which was sent to the Wu camp the same way.
“Your Majesty killed faithful and upright men like Wu Tze-hsu and preferred the counsels of traitors like Po-pi. Your Majesty’s father was killed by the King of Yüeh; instead of avenging his death you let the enemy go free. With misdoings like these, what else could you expect but death? Twenty years ago, Kingdom Yüeh was delivered into your hand, but you pushed it away. Now Heaven’s wrath is upon you and Kingdom Wu is delivered into His Majesty King Kou-chien’s hands.”
King Fu-ch’a would not suffer the disgrace of being captured. He died by falling on his own sword. Kingdom Yüeh was ‘lot only freed from bondage but wiped out the name of Kingdom Wu forever.
Now that Premier Fan-li’s lifetime work had come to a rewarding end, one would think that he would have been glad to settle down and enjoy life like any other man. One day, however, he did not attend the morning court. Despite the search made for him, no one ever saw him again; seemingly, he had disappeared into thin air. Years later, when he had long been forgotten, a letter written by Fan-li addressed to his friend, Minister Wen-tsung, was found. By then, poor Wen-tsung had already been killed by the ungrateful King Kou-chien under some pretext. There was a sentence in the letter which was derived from King Fu-ch‘a’s desperate note sent to the Yüeh camp on the arrow...“When bird-hunting is over, bows are put away; when no hares are left, hounds are needed no more.”
Fan-li had known that King Kou-chien would be wary of his and Wen-tsung’s resourcefulness and popularity among the people now that his troubles were over. Instead of rewarding them, he would find excuses to kill them. Unlike the naive Wen-tsung, Fan-li had the foresight to avoid such a fate by leaving Kingdom Yüeh incognito before the treacherous King Kou-chien could harm him. Ironically, the two faithful ministers of Kingdom Yüeh who engineered the fall of Kingdom Wu shared a similar if not equally tragic fate as their victim. Wen-tsung was killed while Fan-Ii lived in exile all the rest of his life.
Note: 1. WO HSIN CH’ANG TAN - Sleeping on Faggots, Tasting Gall before Eating - is used as an encouragement for those who are starting or re-starting in life with very little. e.g., “The newlyweds have to (WO HSIN CH’ANG TAN) suffer all sorts of hardships before they can have a life of ease.”
2. CH’EN YU LO YEN - Fishes Sank and Flying Geese Fell - is a figurative expression used to describe the extraordinary beauty of a girl or woman, e.g., “Her (CHEN YU LO YEN) extraordinary beauty is hardly a blessing to her, for she is stared at everywhere she goes.”
3. TUNG SHIH HSIAO P’IN - Tung Shih imitated the Frown - is a satire on those who like to imitate other people regardless of the outcome, e.g., “That fat woman wearing the mini skirt looks too ridiculous for words. (TUNG SHIH HSIAO P’IN).” Blindly following fashion is sickening.
4. HSIN FU TZU HUAN - Sickness In The Viscera - is a simile for some hidden trouble or fatal disease. e.g. His spendthrift son is a (HSIN FU TZU HUAN) serious trouble to him. If anything happens to the father the company will soon be bankrupt.
5. T’U SSU KOU P’ENG - No Hares Left, Hounds Are Needed No More - is used to denote the ingratitude of ambitious men who are accustomed to use others for their awn gain, and discard those when their services are no longer useful to them. e.g. The chief engineer who erected the factory will soon be replaced by a younger and smaller-salary man. You know it is usually so - when a factory can run smoothly, there is no need to keep high-pay engineers any longer (T’U SSU KOU P’ENG).