"I owe my safety to Chou T'ai, who thrice came to my aid," said Sun Ch'üan. "But Hsü Shêng is still in the thick of the fight, and how can we save him?"

"I will go to his rescue," cried Chou.

Whirling his spear, Chou again plunged into the battle and presently brought his colleague safely out of the press. Both were severely wounded.

Lü Mêng ordered his men to keep up a rapid flight of arrows so as to command the bank, and in this way the two leaders. were enabled to get on board the ships.

Now Chiên Wu had engaged the legion under P'ang Tê. Being inferior in force and no aid being forthcoming, Chiên Wu was forced into a valley where the trees and undergrowth were very dense. He tried to turn, but was caught by the branches and while so entangled he was killed.

When Ts'ao saw that Sun had escaped from the battle to the river bank he urged his steed forward in pursuit. He sent flights of arrows toward the fugitives. By this time Lü Mêng's men had emptied their quivers, and he began to be very anxious. But just then a fleet of ships sailed up led by Lu Hsün, the son-in-law of Sun Ts'ê, who came with ten legions and drove back Ts'ao's men. Then he landed to pursue. He captured many thousands of horses and slew many men, so that Ts'ao Ts'ao was quite defeated and retired.

Then they sought and found the body of Ch'ên Wu among the slain. Sun Ch'üan was much grieved when he came to know that Ch'ên Wu had been slain and Tung Hsi drowned, and wept sore. Men were sent to seek for Tung Hsi's body, which at last was found. Both captains were buried with great honours.

As a recompense for Chou T'ai's services in his rescue, Sun Ch'üan prepared in his honour a great banquet, where he himself offered Chou a goblet of wine and complimented and embraced him while the tears coursed down his cheeks.

"Twice you saved my life, careless of your own," cried he, "and you have received many wounds. It is as if your skin had been engraved and painted. What sort of a man should I be if I did not treat you as one of my own flesh and blood? Can I regard you, noble Sir, merely as a unit in my army? You are my meritorious minister. I share the glory you have won and mine are your joys and sorrows."

Then he bade Chou T'ai open his dress and exhibit his wounds for all the assembly to see. The skin was gashed all over as if his body had been scored with a knife. Sun Ch'üan pointed to the wounds one after another and asked how each one had been received. And, as Chou told him, for every wound Sun Ch'üan made him drink off a goblet of wine till he became thoroughly intoxicated. Sun Ch'üan then presented him with

a black silk parasol and bade him use it on all occasions as a sign of the glory that was his.

But Sun Ch'üan found his opponents too much for him; at the end of a month the two armies were both at Juhsü and neither had won a victory.

Then said Chang Chao and Ku Yung, "Ts'ao Ts'ao is too strong and we cannot overcome him by mere force. If the struggle continue longer you will only lose more men. You had better seek to make peace.'

Sun Ch'üan followed this advice and despatched Pu Chih on a peace mission to Ts'ao Ts'ao's camp. He was ordered to offer a yearly tribute. Ts'ao also saw that Chiangnan was too strong to be overcome, and consented. He insisted that Sun Ch'üan should first send away his army and then he would retire. The messenger returned with this message and Sun Ch'üan sent away the greater part, leaving only Chou T'ai and Chiang Ch'in to hold Juhsü. The army returned to Moling. Ts'ao left Ts'ao Jên and Chang Liao in charge of Hofei and marched to Hsüch'ang.

On arrival, all Ts'ao Ts'ao's officers persuaded him to become Prince of Wei. Only the president of a Board, Ts'ui Yen, spoke strongly against the scheme.

"You are, then, the only man who knows not the fate of Hsün Wên-yo," said his colleagues.

"Such times! Such deeds!" cried Ts'ui Yen. "You are guilty of rebellion, but you may commit it yourselves. I will bear no part in it.'

Certain enemies told Ts'ao Ts'ao, and Ts'ui Yen was thrown into prison. At his trial he glared like a tiger and his very beard curled with contempt; he raged and cursed at Ts'ao Ts'ao for a betrayer of his prince, and a rebel. The interrogating magistrate reported his conduct to Ts'ao, who ordered Ts'ui to be beaten to death in prison.

Ts'ui Yen was born in Ch'ingho.

Firm and unyielding was he,

With beard crisp curling and gleaming eyes,

Which showed the man of stone and iron within.

He drave the evil from his presence,

And his glory is fair and high.

For loyalty to his lord of Han,

His fame shall increase as the ages roll.

In the twenty-first year of the period "Established Tranquillity," in the fifth month of that year, a great memorial signed by many officers went up to the Emperor Hsien, praying that Ts'ao Ts'ao be granted the title of prince for his manifest merits and signal services to the state, exceeding those rendered by any minister before him. The memorial was approved, and a draft Edict was prepared by the famous Chung Yu. Thrice Ts'ao Ts'ao with seeming modesty pretended to decline the honour, but thrice was his refusal rejected. Finally he

made his obeisance and was enrolled as "Prince of Wei" with the usual insignia and privileges, a head-dress (or coronet) with twelve strings of beads and a chariot with gilt shafts, drawn by six steeds. But he arrogantly used an imperial chariot with bells and had the roads cleared when he passed along. He built himself a palace at Yehchün.

Then he began to discuss the appointment of an heir-apparent. His real wife, of the Ting family, was without issue, but a concubine had borne him a son, Ts'ao Ang, who had been killed in battle at the siege of Wanch'êng. A second concubine, of the P'ien family, had borne him four sons, P'ei, Chang, Chih and Hsiung. Wherefore he elevated her to the rank of princess-consort in place of the Lady Ting. The third son, Chih, also known as Tzu-chien, was very clever and a ready master of composition. Ts'ao Ts'ao wished him to be named the heir. Then the eldest son sought from the high officer Chia Hsü a plan to secure his rights of primogeniture, and Hsü told him to do so-and-so. Thereafter, whenever the father went out on any military expedition, Ts'ao Chih wrote fulsome panegyrics, but Ts'ao Chih wept so copiously at bidding his father farewell that the courtiers were deeply affected and remarked that though the one son was crafty and clever he was not so sincerely filial as the other. Ts'ao P'ei also bought over his father's immediate attendants, who then rang the praises of his virtues so loud that Ts'ao Ts'ao was strongly disposed to name him as the heir after all.

After hesitating a long time, the matter was referred to Chia Hsü.

"I wish to name my heir; who shall it be?"

Chia Hsü would not say, and Ts'ao Ts'ao asked why.

"I was just recalling the past in my mind and could not reply at once," said Chia.

"What were you recalling?"

"I was thinking of two fathers: Yüan Pên-ch'u (Yüan Shao) and Liu Chinghsing (Liu Piao) and their sons.'

Ts'ao Ts'ao smiled. Soon after this he declared his eldest son his heir.

In the tenth month the building of the palace of the_new Prince of Wei was completed and the furnishing begun. From all parts were collected rare flowers and uncommon trees to beautify the gardens. One agent went into Wu and saw Sun Ch'üan, to whom he presented a letter from Ts'ao Ts'ao asking that he might be allowed to proceed to Wênchow to get some oranges. At that period Sun Ch'üan was in a most complaisant mood toward Ts'ao Ts'ao, so from the orange trees in his own city he picked forty very fine fruits and sent them immediately to Yehchün.

On the way, one of the bearers of the oranges fell ill and they had to stop at the foot of a certain hill. There came along an

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elderly man, blind of one eye and lame of one leg, who wore a white rattan head-dress and a black loose robe. He saluted the bearers and stayed to talk.

Presently he said, "Your burdens are heavy, O porters; may this old Taoist lend you a shoulder? What do you say?"

Naturally they were pleased enough, and the amiable wayfarer bore each load for five li. When they resumed their burdens they noticed that they seemed lighter than before, and they felt rather suspicious. When the Taoist was taking his leave of the officer in charge of the party, he said, "I am an old friend from the same village as Prince Wei. My name is Tso Tz'u, my commoner name being Yüan-fang. Among Taoists I bear the appellation of 'Blackhorn.' When you get to the end of your journey you may say that I was enquiring after your lord."

He shook down his sleeves and left. In due course the orange bearers reached the new palace and the oranges were presented. But when Ts'ao cut one open it was but an empty shell of a thing; there was no pulp beneath the rind. Ts'ao Ts'ao was rather puzzled and called in the porters, who told him of their falling in with the mysterious Taoist on the way. But Ts'ao scouted the idea of that being the reason.

But just then the warden of the gate sent to say that a certain Taoist was at the gate and wished to see the prince. "Send him in," said Ts'ao Ts'ao.

"He is the man we met on the way," said the porters when he appeared.

Ts'ao Ts'ao said curtly, "What sorcery have you been exercising on my beautiful fruit?"

"How could such a thing happen?" said the Taoist.

Thereupon he cut open an orange and showed it full of pulp, most delicious to the taste. But when Ts'ao cut open another

that again was empty, nothing but rind.

Ts'ao Ts'ao was more than ever perplexed. He bade his visitor be seated, and, as Tso Tz'u asked for refreshment, wine and food were brought in. The Taoist ate ravenously, consuming a whole sheep, and drank in proportion. Yet he showed no sign of intoxication or repletion.

"By what magic are you here?" said Ts'ao Ts'ao.

"I am but a poor Taoist. I went into Hsich'uan (Ssuch'uan) and on Mount Omi I studied the Way for thirty long years. One day I heard my name called from out the rocky wall of my cell. I looked, but could see nothing. The same thing happened next day, and so on for many days. Then suddenly, with a roar like thunder, the rock split asunder and I saw a sacred book in three volumes called "The Supreme Book of Magic." From the first volume I learned to ascend to the clouds astride the wind, to sail up into the great void itself; from the second to pass through mountains and penetrate

rocks; from the third, to float light as vapour, over the seas, to become invisible at will or change my shape, to fling swords and project daggers so as to decapitate a man from a distance. You, O Prince, have reached the acme of glory; why not now withdraw and, like me, become a disciple of the Taoists? Why not travel to Mount Omi and there mend your ways so that I may bequeath my three volumes to you?"

"Oft have I reflected upon this course and struggled against my fate, but what can I do? There is no one to maintain the government," replied Ts'ao.

"There is Liu Yüan-tê, a scion of the dynastic family; could you not make way for him? If you do not, I may have to send one of my flying swords after your head one day."

"You are one of his secret agents," said Ts'ao Ts'ao, suddenly enraged. "Seize him!" cried he to his lictors.

They did so, while the Taoist laughed. And he continued to laugh as they dragged him down to the dungeons, where they beat him cruelly. And when they had finished, the Taoist lay there gently respiring in a sound sleep, just as if he felt nothing whatever.

This enraged Ts'ao Ts'ao still more, and he bade them put the priest into the large wooden collar and nail it securely and then chain him in a cell. And he set guards over him, and the guards saw the collar and chains just fall off while the victim lay fast asleep not injured in the least.

The Taoist lay in prison seven days without food or water, and when they went to look at him he was sitting upright on the ground, quite well and rosy looking.

The gaolers reported these things to Ts'ao Ts'ao, who had the prisoner brought in.

"I do not mind going without food for years," said the victim, when Ts'ao Ts'ao questioned him, "yet I could eat a thousand sheep in a day."

Ts'ao Ts'ao was at the end of his resources, he could prevail nothing against such a man.

That day there was to be a great banquet at the new palace, and guests came in crowds. When the banquet was in progress and the wine cup passing freely, suddenly the same Taoist appeared. He had wooden clogs on his feet. All faces turned in his direction and not a few were afraid; others wondered. Standing there in front of the great assembly, the Taoist said, "O powerful Prince, here to-day you have every delicacy on the table and a glorious company of guests. You have rare and beautiful objects from all parts of the world. Is there anything lacking? If there be anything you would like, name it and I will get it for you.'

Ts'ao replied, "Then I want a dragon's liver to make soup: can you get that?"

"Where's the difficulty?" replied Tso Tz'u.

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