The Condolences for Cao Cao, and Cao Pi
"You insolent wretch!"
It had been a long time since I had seen Liu Bei in such a towering rage. Not since that tactless fool—Zhang Zun, or whatever his name was—had run his mouth, if I remembered right.
Liu Bei clutched Cao Pi's reply as if he meant to tear it apart, and when even that failed to spend his fury, he flung it down at his feet. Silk, as befitted a letter from Cao Pi, went tumbling across the floor. He gave the thing a contemptuous kick, then slumped back against the throne, shoulders heaving.
At this rare extremity of his wrath, the great hall sank into a cold silence in which not even a breath could be heard.
"What are the eunuchs doing? Get that vile thing out of my sight at once."
That he called for eunuchs, and not for the ministers who kept the documents, was itself a declaration. He did not regard Cao Pi's reply as a diplomatic paper worthy of the name. None of the officials wished to catch the edge of that anger. Far from restraining him, they held their tongues.
"My lord, compose yourself first."
All of them, save one.
Even Fa Zheng and Pang Tong were still weighing whether they ought to step forward when the one man in the hall who could rise without flinching did so. Liu Bei's own Zhang Zifang—Zhuge Liang—moved.
"Military Advisor. You heard it as well, did you not? The filth that arrogant cur sent. Were he not Cao Cao's son he would be nothing but a common laborer, and yet he cannot tell heaven from earth—"
"On the contrary. This is cause for celebration."
"What?"
Oh. So Liu Bei could wear a face like that even for Zhuge Liang. Amusing, when I considered that I was the reason—and somehow satisfying all the same.
Liu Bei's fury left Zhuge Liang exactly as he always was. He bent in a measured bow and spoke in a level voice.
"Cao Cao set a measure of his affairs in order before he died, yet Wei is still riddled with troubles lying dormant beneath the surface. His successor must resolve them, and judging by Cao Pi's quality, he will not. An enemy sovereign's incompetence is our state's great good fortune. It is something to rejoice in."
"Hmm. There is sense in what you say, Military Advisor. Even so, I cannot forgive that impudent brat."
Short of Guan Yu's death, Zhuge Liang was the perfect governor of Liu Bei's temper. Thanks to him, Liu Bei recovered his reason, and his voice sank back down.
"Since matters have come to this, send word to Han Yeom. Tell him to return to Chengdu at once."
At the word that the condolence mission would be called off entirely, color returned to the faces of those who had opposed it from the start. They nodded faintly—yes, this is how it ought to be—and as I watched them, I stepped out into the center of the hall.
"My lord, send me with the condolence mission."
I was the very person Cao Pi had named. Liu Bei could not even muster his anger. He only stared, dumbfounded.
"What are you saying? You heard Cao Pi's words yourself. How can you ask such a thing?"
"Even a common man's word ought to weigh like a thousand gold, and you, my lord, are King of Hanzhong. A king's word must be heavier than the sky. What is more, you have already set it forth, as the mission's justification, that we go to look after His Majesty's safety. That you would spare me gladdens me beyond measure—but people will condemn you for setting private feeling above the greater cause. Do not let me commit the disloyalty of putting a flaw upon your dignity."
At that long, careful appeal Liu Bei looked cornered, and sank into a low hum of thought. Had it been anyone else, perhaps he might have answered. Spoken to this way by the person concerned, even he would be hard pressed for a rebuttal.
Besides, Cao Pi had yet to show the full measure of his madness. This uproar over a reply was the worst of it so far.
Knowing Cao Pi's true face, of course, my request would look like a gamble. But there was a calculation under it. Wei was in the midst of a transition: Cao Cao, who had ruled with an iron fist, was dead, and Cao Pi was taking up the inheritance. Only because Cao Cao had settled his affairs before he went was the realm still holding together. Look closely into Wei, and you would find a dormant volcano packed with seething magma.
In such a moment, would they harm a condolence mission that had not come of its own accord—one Cao Pi himself had agreed to receive? From that instant Wei would fall to nothing more than a band of brigands, stripped of justification and reputation alike. Would men who understood that perfectly—Jia Xu, Sima Yi, Hua Xin, Zhong Yao—leave Cao Pi free to do as he pleased? He was not even emperor yet.
And however mad Cao Pi might be, the man had a head that turned well enough, and he still listened, more or less, to Jia Xu and Sima Yi.
Even so, the other party was Cao Pi. Nothing about him could ever be certain. In the original history he had committed more than his share of lunacy—the sort of man to hold banquets and wallow in luxury through Cao Cao's mourning, an utter violation of filial piety. Who could say what he might do to a mission of condolence?
If it comes to that, I'll seize Cao Pi and turn it into a hostage play.
That was why, if I went with the mission, I meant to take fierce generals along. Pang De, a comrade I had fought beside more than once, would not refuse me if I asked.
By the time I had ordered my thoughts, Liu Bei opened the mouth he had kept long shut.
"I understand the admirable heart you bear, and the worry in it. But I cannot render a cold judgment in this. Therefore—"
What came from his lips was neither permission, nor refusal, nor even a postponement.
"I will entrust the question of whether to send you to someone who can judge it more fairly, and more neutrally, than anyone."
Someone who had declared neither for nor against the sending of the mission. Someone who could set aside all private feeling toward me. Someone wise enough to decide according to reason. If such a person existed, I could think of only one.
And so could Liu Bei.
"Kongming, I leave this matter to you. The two of you will speak in full, and report your decision to me. Court is dismissed."
When court ended, I was left alone with Zhuge Liang. His private office was steeped in the fragrance of tea and ink, thick enough to tell you the master's character at a glance.
He did not go straight to the condolence mission. He began with a little idle talk instead—a simple breaking of the ice.
"It has already been ten years since I first saw you, Rear General. I did not imagine then that you would grow into someone so remarkable."
"Please, speak more plainly. You do me too much honor."
"Not at all. The Rear General has earned it. You may hold your head high."
It did not seem like flattery meant to lower my guard. Zhuge Liang was so wholly the righteous path itself that his inner mind was ordinarily impossible to read—and yet, just now, I could feel, faintly, that he meant it.
"To speak plainly, I did not foresee Sun Quan's betrayal. Neither did Xiaozhi and Gongheng, who drove Cao Cao out of Hanzhong. Shiyuan was different. More than a few found it strange that he would abandon Hanzhong, where great merit lay waiting to be won, and go instead to Jingzhou."
Put bluntly: if Pang Tong had stepped forward as the architect of the struggle for Hanzhong, could Fa Zheng ever have climbed as high as he had? Fa Zheng had seized his chance only because Pang Tong, anticipating Sun Quan's betrayal and meaning to prepare for it, gave up the Hanzhong campaign and chose the road to Jingzhou.
"I knew he was a Wu and a Yue sharing one boat—a man who would turn his back someday—but I did not think the day would come so soon. You, Rear General, were wary of Sun Quan together with Shiyuan. Had you not been there, and had Shiyuan consequently met with disaster at Luocheng, our state would have been thrown into a truly wretched pass by Sun Quan's treachery."
Zhuge Liang was tracing, with exactness, the course of the original history. That he, of all people, should acknowledge my merit—the swell of feeling was beyond anything I could compare it to. The corners of my mouth climbed like a fool's. To hold in a cheer I could not have named as laughter or as tears, I bit down on my trembling lip.
"Surely the Rear General has a reason for going with the condolence mission that I do not know. I will not presume to judge you by my shallow insight. I wish only to hear it."
Zhuge Liang asked, "What is your true intention in joining the mission?"
He said he wished only to hear my mind, and yet he seemed already to know it all. A thin, unhurried smile on his lips, he gazed at me steadily. Sitting there with him, the two of us speaking what we truly thought, I suddenly remembered a scene from the Romance.
"As I see it, Military Advisor, you already know what I intend."
"Do I?"
"Then why not write it on our palms, and show them at the same moment?"
I was proposing the anecdote from the Romance, when Zhuge Liang and Zhou Yu had debated the fire stratagem. He set down the crane-feather fan in his hand.
"An interesting proposal. Very well. I brought brush, ink, and paper for the report. We may use those."
The preparations were quickly done. In silence, Zhuge Liang and I each wrote a character upon our own palm.
"Are you finished?"
"Yes. Let us count to three, and show them then."
At my question he laid down the brush and began to count himself. When he reached three, we turned our palms up as one. The same character was written on both.
"Indeed."
Seeing the character on my palm, Zhuge Liang nodded as if it were precisely what he had expected.
Yes. The reason I meant to go with the condolence mission was nothing other than the northern expedition. To look over, beforehand, the lay of that land, its fortresses, and the hearts of its people would surely make an enormous difference when the march north came. Above all, I needed to see with my own two eyes how far the original history had shifted under my intervention. Only then could I build the grand strategy of the northern expedition upon the knowledge I possessed.
"It is a long road, all the way to Ye. The chance to look even into the interior of Wei will surely be the first of its kind, and the last."
No long speech was required. Hear one thing, and he knew ten. From that short remark alone, Zhuge Liang had grasped the whole of it.
And so my journey of condolence was decided.