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Volume 29: Book of Wei 29: Biographies of Fangshis and Artisans

Chapter 29 of 三國志 · Records of the Three Kingdoms
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Chapter 29
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1
This chapter treats Hua Tuo, Du Kui, Zhu Jianping, Zhou Xuan, and Guan Lu.
2
便 便 便便 便
Hua Tuo, styled Yuanhua, came from Qiao in Pei; he was also known as Fu. 〈Pei Songzhi notes: In old manuscripts the character for "spread" looked much like the one for "sole"; copyists often confused the two. Given his style Yuanhua, his true given name was almost certainly Fu.〉 He studied abroad in the Xu region and mastered more than one canonical text. Chen Gui, chancellor of Pei, nominated him as a candidate for filial piety and integrity; Grand Commandant Huang Wan tried to appoint him—he refused both offers. He practiced longevity arts, and contemporaries believed him to be nearing a century in age while still looking robust. He excelled at prescriptions: his decoctions used only a handful of ingredients, mixed by eye without scales; he boiled them, gave dosing instructions, and patients recovered as soon as they left. When he used moxa, he chose only a spot or two, with at most seven or eight cones each—and the disease cleared. If acupuncture was needed, it likewise involved no more than one or two points. When he inserted the needle, he would say, "It should draw sensation to such-and-such a place; when it reaches there, tell someone." The sick person said "It has arrived"; he thereupon withdrew the needle and the illness likewise soon improved. For deep internal masses beyond needle or herb, he administered his "numbing infusion"; within moments the patient was insensible as if dead, and he could operate and excise the growth. If the bowel was involved, he resected and irrigated it, sutured the abdomen, and applied ointment; in four or five days the patient was painless and barely conscious of the ordeal, and within a month had fully healed.
3
使
The wife of a former chancellor of Ganling, six months pregnant and in pain, consulted him; after feeling her pulse he said, "The child has died in the womb." Have someone feel her belly: left means a boy, right a girl. People said "On the left"; thereupon he prepared a decoction to purge her, and indeed she delivered a male form and then recovered.
4
便
Yin Shi, a county clerk, had burning limbs, a parched mouth, intolerance of noise, and scanty urine. Tuo said, "Eat something hot to bring on a sweat; if you sweat, you will live. If you cannot sweat, you will be dead in three days." They tried, but no sweat came. Tuo said, "His organ vitality is gone; he will die weeping." It happened exactly as he had foretold.
5
Ni Xun and Li Yan, two clerks, roomed together; both ran a fever and complained of identical headaches. Tuo said, "Xun needs a purgative; Yan needs a diaphoretic." When asked why, he replied, "Xun's excess is on the exterior, Yan's on the interior—so the cures must differ." He prescribed accordingly, and the next morning both were on their feet.
6
宿
Yan Xin of Yandu was waiting with others when Tuo arrived and asked bluntly, "How is your health?" Xin answered, "Perfectly normal." Tuo said, "Your face shows an acute illness—stay away from wine." After the visit he rode home; a few miles out he grew dizzy, tumbled from his cart, was carried back, and died before dawn.
7
宿
Dun Zixian, a recovered patient, came for a pulse reading; Tuo warned, "You are still weak—no exertion, and no marital relations, or you will die. When you die, your tongue will protrude several inches." His wife, hearing he was cured, traveled over a hundred li, spent the night with him, and they lay together; three days later he relapsed precisely as foretold.
8
使便
Chief Clerk Xu Yi took ill, and Tuo called on him. Yi said, "Yesterday Clerk Liu Zu needled my epigastrium; since then I have had a racking cough and cannot rest lying down." Tuo said, "He missed the stomach and hit the liver; your appetite will fail today, and nothing can save you in five days." Events unfolded exactly as he predicted.
9
The two-year-old son of Chen Shushan of Dongyang had chronic dysentery, weeping before each stool, and wasted daily. Tuo explained, "While carrying him, the mother's yang was turned inward, leaving her milk cold; the infant drew that chill, so the bowels never healed." He prescribed a Four-Ingredient Nüwan bolus, and in ten days the child was well.
10
The wife of a Pengcheng notable was stung on the hand by a scorpion in the night latrine and cried out in agony. Tuo had her immerse the hand in repeatedly refreshed hot water until she could sleep; by morning the pain was gone.
11
Mei Ping, struck from the army rolls, was heading home to Guangling and stopped short of his destination at a kinsman's. Tuo happened by; the host asked him to see Mei. Tuo told Mei, "Had you come sooner, we could have avoided this. The disease is fixed; go home at once to bid your kin farewell—you have five days." Mei left immediately and died on the day Tuo named.
12
On the road he met a man choking on food, unable to swallow, whom relatives were rushing to a doctor. Hearing his groans, Tuo stopped and said, "Buy three pints of garlic sauce in strong vinegar from the pie-vendor yonder and drink it down—the obstruction will clear." The man did so, vomited a worm like a snake, hung it on the cart rail, and set off to thank Tuo. Tuo was out; his child played at the gate, spotted the visitor, and said to a playmate, "That must be Father's patient—the thing on the cart." Inside, the north wall was hung with dozens of similar "snakes" Tuo had drawn from patients.
13
使
For another prefect, Tuo believed rage would cure him—so he took a heavy fee, neglected treatment, vanished, and left an insulting letter. The official flew into a rage and sent men to hunt Tuo down for execution. His son, knowing the ruse, told the guards not to give chase. The pent-up fury brought up several pints of black blood, and he was cured.
14
Another gentleman felt ill; Tuo said, "The trouble is deep—you would need laparotomy. But you will not live ten years in any case; the ailment will not kill you first—so endure it rather than go under the knife for nothing." The man could not bear the discomfort and demanded surgery. Tuo operated; the symptoms vanished, but the man died exactly ten years later, as predicted.
15
便
Chen Deng of Guangling had tightness and heat in the chest, a flushed face, and no appetite. Tuo felt his pulse and said, "You harbor several pints of parasites from raw fish; they are turning into an internal abscess." He brewed two pints of medicine, had Chen drink one, then the rest in short order. Moments later Chen vomited some three pints of red-headed writhing worms—half-digested sashimi—and the distress lifted. Tuo added, "It will return after three cycles; only a skilled doctor can save you then." The relapse came on schedule when Tuo was away, and Chen died as warned.
16
便使 調
Cao Cao heard of him and kept Tuo constantly in attendance. Cao Cao's migraines brought vertigo and confusion; Tuo needled his diaphragm point and the attack subsided at once. 〈An alternate life records a paralytic carried to Tuo, who called from a distance, "You have already had needles, moxa, and drugs—no pulse needed." He bared the man's back and dotted dozens of points an inch or so apart in uneven rows. He told them to apply ten cones at each mark; when the burns healed, the patient could walk. When the scars healed, they formed straight lines flanking the spine, as if snapped from a chalk line.〉
17
使 使
General Li's wife lay desperately ill; Tuo read her pulse and said, "She miscarried, but a fetus remains within." The general protested, "She did miscarry, and we believe the afterbirth passed." Tuo said, "The pulse says otherwise—the fetus is still there." Li refused to believe him. Tuo left, and for a time the woman seemed better. A hundred days later her pains returned; Tuo returned and said, "The pulse still shows a pregnancy. She had been carrying twins; the first slipped out with heavy bleeding, and the second never followed. Neither she nor her attendants realized a second child remained; nothing was done to deliver it, so it stayed trapped. Dead, it desiccated against her backbone, which is why her back has ached so fiercely. Now I will give a draught and a single needle; the dead fetus will come away." After the medicine and needle, she writhed as if in labor. Tuo said, "It is mummified inside; someone must reach in and extract it." They brought out a black male stillbirth nearly a foot long, perfectly formed.
18
使 使 便
Such wonders typified Tuo's skill. Yet he had begun as a scholar and resented making medicine his trade; when Cao Cao took personal control of government and grew seriously ill, he demanded Tuo's exclusive care. Tuo said, "This is barely curable; constant treatment might buy you time." Longing for home, he claimed he needed a family letter and a brief leave." Once there, he pleaded his wife's sickness and repeatedly postponed his return. Cao wrote repeatedly and ordered local officials to send him back. Confident in his gift and loath to serve, he still refused to travel. Enraged, Cao sent agents to verify his story. If the wife was truly ill, grant forty hu of beans and extra time; if he lied, arrest him and bring him in. They took him to the Xu jail, where torture extracted a confession. Xun Yu pleaded, "Tuo's art saves lives; spare him." Cao retorted, "Are we short of such vermin in the world?" Tuo was executed after interrogation. At the block he handed the warden a medical scroll, saying, "This can save lives." The man dared not take it; Tuo did not insist and burned the book. After Tuo's death, Cao Cao's migraines persisted. Cao Cao said, "Hua Tuo could have cured this. That man kept my sickness lingering to inflate his own worth; even if I had spared him, he would never have rooted out the cause for good." Later, when his favorite son Cangshu lay dying, Cao Cao groaned, "I killed Hua Tuo—and doomed this boy to an untimely end."
19
便 使 使 便 使 滿 滿 滿使便 使
Long before, the clerk Li Cheng had a racking cough that allowed him no sleep, often bringing up pus and blood; he sought out Hua Tuo. Tuo told him, "You have an abscessed bowel; the bloody sputum is not from the lungs. He gave two cash-measures of powder: "You will bring up over two pints of purulent blood, then convalesce; in a month you may be up, in a year sound—if you mind yourself. At age eighteen expect a mild relapse; take this same powder and you will recover again. Without that drug when the crisis comes, you will die." He dispensed another two measures; Li Cheng left with the remedy in hand. Five or six years on, a kinsman fell ill as Li had and pleaded, "You are robust while I perish—how can you hoard your stockpiled cure? 〈Pei Songzhi notes: Archaic usage treated "put away" as "qu," i.e., stored.〉 Are you waiting for disaster to strike me first? Lend it now; when I am well I will get you a fresh supply from Hua Tuo." Li Cheng handed it over. When the patient reached Qiao, Tuo had already been arrested, and there was no time to beg another dose. At eighteen the predicted relapse struck Li Cheng; without the powder he died. 〈Anecdotal biography: During Qinglong someone met Liu Jingzong of Guangling, prefect of Shanyang, who recalled seeing Tuo often in Zhongping times—his pulse diagnoses seemed almost supernatural. Liu Xun of Langya, as prefect of Henei, had a daughter of about twenty with an itchy, painless sore inside her left knee. It would heal, then return after weeks—year after year for seven or eight years. Tuo examined her and said, "This is simple to cure. You need a straw-colored dog and two sound horses." They tethered the dog and had a rider drag it at a gallop, swapping mounts when each tired—over thirty li until the dog collapsed, then foot soldiers hauled it on until the total neared fifty li. He dosed the girl; she sank into a trance-like sleep. He slit the dog's belly near the hind legs and pressed the wound to hers, held two or three inches off the ulcer. Soon something serpentine emerged from her sore; he pinned its head with an iron skewer. It thrashed under her skin, then went limp; he drew out a three-foot creature that was all snake yet lacked true eyes and bore scales in reverse. He packed the wound with salve; she healed in seven days. Another man had endured years of vertigo—unable to lift his head or open his eyes. Tuo stripped him, hung him head-down an inch or two from the floor, swabbed his body with a soaked cloth, and watched colored blood fill the surface veins. Apprentices lanced the veins until the dark discharge cleared to true red; he salved and wrapped him, induced a thorough sweat, then gave a pepperweed-and-dog-blood powder—cure was instant. A woman had wasted for years with what folk called alternating fever and chills. One winter eleventh month he seated her in a stone trough and at dawn began pouring cold water, aiming for a hundred drenchings. After seven or eight dousings she shook as if in shock, and the attendants wanted to quit. Tuo insisted they finish the full count. Near the eightieth bucket, steam rose from her body two or three feet high. At the hundredth pouring he moved her to a heated couch under heavy quilts until she broke a full sweat, dusted her with powder, and she emerged cured. Another patient felt his abdomen sliced in two for a fortnight as his temples and eyebrows fell out. Tuo said, "Half the spleen has putrefied; open the belly and we can save you." After a sleeping draught he opened the cavity—the spleen was half necrotic, as he had said. He excised the rot, dressed the wound, and prescribed drugs; the man was whole again within a hundred days.〉
20
使 鹿 便 使 巿 輿 調 西 西 巿
Wu Pu of Guangling and Fan A of Pengcheng studied under Hua Tuo. Wu Pu practiced Tuo's methods and saved countless patients. Tuo told him, "The body needs motion, yet never to the point of exhaustion. Exercise digests food, keeps the blood moving, and wards off illness—like a hinge that never rusts. The ancients who sought long life practiced daoyin—arching like a bear, turning like an owl, flexing waist and spine and every joint to slow old age. I teach the Five-Animal Dance—tiger, deer, bear, ape, and bird—to drive out sickness, limber the legs, and stand in for formal daoyin. When you feel off, perform one animal form until you sweat, powder down, and you will feel light, limber, and hungry." Wu Pu kept at it past ninety with keen senses and a full set of teeth. Fan A excelled at acupuncture. Physicians warned that needling between back and viscera was perilous and depth should stay within four fen; Fan A drove needles an inch or two into the back and five or six cun into Juque over the heart, yet his patients always recovered. Fan A asked for a tonic formula; Tuo gave him the lacquer-leaf and green-adhesive powder. The recipe calls for one sheng of powdered lacquer leaves to fourteen liang of green-adhesive powder; long use, he claimed, expels parasites, tones the organs, lightens the body, and delays gray hair. Fan A followed the regimen and lived past a hundred. Lacquer trees grow widely; green adhesive is said to come from Feng, Pei, Pengcheng, and Zhaoge. 〈The anecdotal biography identifies green adhesive as "earth joint" or "yellow fungus," a drug that regulates the five viscera and nourishes essence. A lost traveler in the hills saw an immortal ingest it and told Tuo. Tuo prized the herb and taught Fan A, who guarded the formula. When people noticed Fan A's vigor and pressed him, he let slip the secret while drunk. Once published, everyone who tried it reported striking results. Cao Pi's Dianlun records: "Xi Jian of Yingchuan practiced grain avoidance and fed on poria. Gan Shi of Ganling was adept at breath circulation and kept a youthful face into old age. Zuo Ci of Lujiang mastered tonic daoyin exercises. All served on the army staff. When Xi Jian first appeared, the price of poria in the market shot up several times over. Li Tan of Anping copied his fast, swallowed poria, drank ice water, and nearly died of dysentery. When Gan Shi arrived, onlookers gaped like owls and wolves, aping his breathing exercises. Dong Fen, the army libationer from Hongnong, overdid the practice, lost his breath, and lay unconscious a long while before reviving. When Zuo Ci came, courtiers scrambled for his regimen—even the eunuch Yan Jun sought instruction. Eunuchs had no use for such skills, yet the fad for novelty ran that deep. During Guanghe, Wang Heping of Beihai dabbled in Daoist arts and fancied himself destined for immortality. Sun Yong of Jinan followed him in youth all the way to Luoyang. Wang died of natural causes; Sun Yong buried him east of Tao with his hundred-odd scrolls and several bags of drugs. Later a disciple, Xia Rong, claimed Wang had "corpse liberated" instead of dying. Sun Yong still regrets not keeping those precious texts and elixirs. Liu Xiang fell for the Hongbao books, another lord swooned at Zizheng's talk—credulity is hardly a lone sin across the ages." The Prince of Dong'e composed 〈Discourse on the Dao and wrote: "The court harbors every sort of fangshi: Gan Shi at Ganling, Zuo Ci in Lujiang, Xi Jian in Yangcheng. Gan Shi breathed and stretched, Zuo Ci knew bedroom alchemy, Xi Jian fasted—each billed himself as three centuries old. They were rounded up in Wei lest such men abet rogues and beguile the realm—not because anyone expected to sight immortals off Yingzhou or trade the imperial coach for a cloud chariot. The king, crown prince, and brothers treated the whole business as a joke. Still, the adepts knew Cao's favor had limits—pay like petty clerks, no rewards without merit, no trips to fairy isles or six-pattern silks—so they never spouted outright imposture. I put Xi Jian on a hundred-day grain fast, roomed with him, and watched him walk and sleep like any other man. A man starves in seven days without food, yet Xi endured a hundred. It may not extend life, but it can cure some ills and blunt hunger. Zuo Ci's bedroom arts might prolong life, yet only the most disciplined could sustain them. Gan Shi kept a boyish face in old age and drew every charlatan to his circle. His speech was long on marvels and short on proof. Alone with him I coaxed stories: he claimed his master Han Shixiong had several times transmuted gold at the Southern Sea and cast ten thousand jin into the waves. He spoke of Hu envoys under the Liang who offered scented rugs, jeweled belts, and jade knives—treasures he now regretted refusing. He mentioned a land west of Cheshi where newborns had their backs split to excise the spleen so they would eat little and march like crossbowmen. He told of twin five-inch carp, one boiled with drugs and both dropped into hot oil—the drugged fish swam about while its twin fried crisp. I asked whether any of this could be demonstrated. He answered that the drug lay ten thousand li away, beyond the border, and only he could fetch it in person." There was more, too bizarre to set down; I give only the wildest samples. Had Gan Shi met the First Emperor or Wu Di, he would have joined the ranks of Xu Fu and Luan Da."〉"
21
Du Kui, styled Gongliang, was a native of Henan. His ear for pitch won him a post as Master of Court Music; illness forced him to resign in Zhongping 5. Local authorities and the minister of education repeatedly called him to serve, but he fled to Jingzhou to escape the turmoil. Governor Liu Biao paired Du Kui with Meng Yao to compile proper Han court music; when the pieces were ready, Liu wanted a courtyard performance, but Du Kui objected: "Given your current rank, (A variant gloss inserts the negative "not.") To score music fit for the Son of Heaven and parade it in your own courtyard would be presumptuous in the extreme." Liu Biao took the point and called off the display. When Liu Cong yielded to Cao Cao, Du Kui was made army libationer in charge of court music and charged with composing new ritual pieces.
22
Du Kui mastered bell temperament and every wind and string of the eight categories, though song and dance were not his forte. He coordinated specialists—Deng Jing and Yin Qi for lyrics, Yin Hu for temple hymns, Feng Su and Fu Yang for archaic choreography—collated classical texts and living practice, trained the musicians, built the instruments, and thus revived the old court repertoire.
23
𩥄 使 滿
Under Huangchu he served as director of the imperial music bureau and chief of pitch regulation. The Han bell-founder Chai Yu was a versatile artisan whose work caught the eye of the great. Du Kui had him cast bronze bells, but their tuning repeatedly failed; time after time the bells were melted down and remade. Chai Yu grew resentful, accusing Du Kui of arbitrary standards and openly resisting him. Both appealed to Cao Cao, who tested the bells himself, found Du Kui right and Chai Yu wrong, and reduced Chai and his sons to stable hands. Emperor Wen favored Chai Yu and once ordered Du Kui to join (Text variant: "Zuo Yuan.") Zuo Yin and others in playing sheng and qin for guests; Du Kui looked pained, which displeased the emperor. Later, on another pretext, he had Du Kui arrested and sent (Variant graph for the name.) The emperor jailed him on another charge and compelled Zuo Yin and the others to study under him. Du Kui insisted that his métier was orthodox court ritual and that his official pedigree was sound, yet he remained bitter until he was dismissed from office and died.
24
His pupils Shao Deng, Zhang Tai, and Sang Fu of Henan rose to assistant directors of music; Chen Hui of Xiapi became chief of pitch as a middle general. Musicians such as Zuo Yannian favored the sensual Zheng style; none matched Du Kui in devotion to classical correctness.
25
使 使 使
〈There was also Ma Jun of Fufeng, an inventor without peer in his day. Fu Xuan 〈In his preface〉 writes of him: "Master Ma was the kingdom's most celebrated mechanician; in youth he wandered carefree, unaware of his own gift. In those days no one spoke of ingenuity—how could words alone reveal it? Poor as a court academic, he redesigned the figured-silk loom; wordlessly, the world saw his genius. Old looms needed fifty treadles for fifty shafts and sixty for sixty; he replaced them all with twelve treadles, saving labor and time. The patterns that sprang from his device seemed as natural as creation itself—like Wheelwright Bian's insight, beyond words, let alone petty comparison. As a palace adviser he argued with Gao Tang Long and Qin Lang about the south-pointing chariot; they insisted antiquity never had one and that the records lied. Ma Jun replied, "The ancients had it; you simply have not thought it through—it is hardly beyond reach!" They sneered: "Your name is Jun, style Deheng—'template' and 'balance'; yet without a true standard for weight, what sort of 'template' is that?" Ma Jun answered, "Verbal sparring proves nothing; build one and see." They relayed the dispute to Emperor Ming, who ordered a prototype—and the chariot worked. That was his first wonder, inexplicable in mere words, and the empire conceded his skill. In the capital he rigged a chain-pump for his garden, turned by boys, that lifted water in an endless cascade—a hundred times cleverer than ordinary lifts. That was his second marvel. Later an artisan offered a set of "hundred entertainments"—static models with no motion. The emperor asked Ma Jun, "Can you make them move?" They can," he said." Can you improve on their ingenuity?" Yes," he replied. He received an imperial commission to do so. He carved a great wheel-shaped frame and drove it with concealed hydraulics on level ground. He staged female dancers and had wooden figures beat drums and play flutes; built miniature peaks where puppets juggled, threw swords, walked ropes, and stood on their hands; showed clerks at their desks, mortars grinding, cocks fighting—ingenuity without end. That was his third marvel. Seeing Zhuge Liang's repeating crossbow, he said, "Clever, yes, but not yet perfect." He claimed he could quintuple its rate of fire. He also faulted the stone-throwing engine: defenders hung wet hides from parapets so missiles stuck and could not strike in volleys. He designed a revolving wheel hung with dozens of boulders; a crank would snap the ropes in turn and hurl them at the walls in rapid succession. In a trial he slung roof-tiles from a wheel and flung them hundreds of paces. Pei Xiu, a man of learning, heard the claim and scoffed. He cross-examined Ma Jun until the inventor was speechless. Pei thought he had won the argument and pressed on. Fu Xuan told Pei, "You excel at debate but not at craft. Ma Jun excels at craft, not rhetoric. Attack his weakness with your strength and of course he falters. Challenge his strength with your weakness and you will miss the point entirely. Ingenuity is subtle; to harangue what you cannot grasp only widens the gulf between you. That is why Ma Jun fell silent—inner conviction against outer eloquence." Fu Xuan repeated the tale to Marquis Cao Xi, who sided with Pei. Fu Xuan said, "The sage judges men many ways—by spirit, by words, by deeds. Spirit shines through without a word, as with Yan Hui's virtue. Some win notice through debate, like Zai Wo or Zigong. Others by deeds—Ran You and Zilu in government, Ziyou and Zixia in letters. Even the sage tested disciples: Ran and Zilu in office, Ziyou and Zixia in study. If Confucius tested even them, how much more humble talents? Why? Physical principles outrun language, but a trial settles the matter quickly. Ma Jun's devices are vital to the army and the realm. They cost a little wood and two men's labor, yet proof comes in moments. To dismiss proven ingenuity with words is to govern the world by conceit alone—hence so many worthy projects are wasted. Ma Jun revised his way to success, so his first claims were not wholly correct. Reject him for that, and unmatched skill never sees the light of day. Kindred spirits envy one another; rivals in office wound one another—ordinary men cannot escape it. The gentleman does not ruin a man out of spite; he weighs ability with practical tests. Abandon that measure, and flawless jade is mocked as common stone—that is why Bian He clutched his raw gem and wept." Cao Xi saw the point and spoke to Cao Shuang, who shrugged it off—no trial was ever held. If even a famous, easily tested marvel could be ignored, what hope for obscure genius? Let later ages take warning! Ma Jun's ingenuity rivaled Gongshu Ban, Mozi, Wang Er, and even Zhang Heng. Those masters were employed and benefited the world. Yet Zhang Heng and Ma Jun never ran the Ministry of Works—so their genius profited no one. Misusing talent and refusing to test the worthy is a crying shame." Master Pei is Pei Xiu. The Marquis of Anxiang is Cao Xi. The Marquis of Wu'an is Cao Shuang.〉
26
Zhu Jianping
27
Zhu Jianping came from Pei. He practiced face-reading in the streets, and his predictions repeatedly came true. When Cao Cao was Duke of Wei, he summoned Zhu as a court gentleman. At a banquet of more than thirty guests, while Cao Pi was commander of the five offices, he asked Zhu for his own fate and bade him read every guest. Zhu told him, "You are fated for eighty years of life, but at forty a lesser calamity will threaten you; take extraordinary care in that year." To Xiahou Wei he said, "At forty-nine you will govern a province but face mortal danger; survive it and you may reach seventy as a chief minister." To Ying Qu he warned of a spirit sighting—a white dog visible only to him—the year before he died at sixty-two as a senior attendant." To Prince Cao Biao he said, "You will rule a kingdom but perish by the sword at fifty-seven unless you take care."
28
使 使
Xun You and Zhong Yao of Yingchuan were close friends. When Xun You died young, his son was still a child. Zhong Yao kept house for the widowed household and planned to marry out Xun You's concubine. He wrote, "Gongda and I once consulted Zhu Jianping together; Zhu said, 'Though Xun You is young, you will one day leave your unfinished business to Zhong Yao. I joked back, 'Then you will only marry off your nag Ah Wu. Who imagined the boy would die so soon—and that idle taunt would prove true? Now I mean to find Ah Wu a proper match. Looking back at Zhu's art, not even Tang Ju or Xu Fu could surpass it!"
29
使 便
In Huangchu 7, at forty and mortally ill, Cao Pi told his attendants, "Zhu's 'eighty years' meant counting each day as two—I suppose my span is fixed." Soon afterward he died. Xiahou Wei, forty-nine and governor of Yanzhou, fell ill in early December, recalled Zhu's prophecy, assumed death was near, and laid out his will and shroud in sober white. By late month he rallied and seemed nearly well. On the thirtieth, at dusk, he feasted his steward and said, "The pain is lifting; at dawn I turn fifty and will have outlived Zhu's warning." When the guests left he lay down, the sickness surged back, and he died before midnight. At sixty-one Ying Qu, on duty as palace attendant, suddenly saw a white dog no one else could see. He threw banquets, raced through the countryside, and feasted for sport until a year past the fated date—then died at sixty-three. Prince Cao Biao of Chu, aged fifty-seven, was condemned for plotting with Wang Ling and forced to take his own life. In every such case Zhu's words came true; space forbids a full list, so only a few instances are set down. They say he missed only with Wang Chang, Cheng Xi, and Wang Su. At sixty-two Wang Su lay dying, and every doctor despaired of him. His wife begged a parting word; Wang Su said, "Zhu promised me past seventy and rank among the Three Dukes—none of that has come—so why worry?" Nevertheless he died.
30
便
Zhu Jianping could read horses as well as faces. As Cao Pi was leaving, Zhu met the incoming mount and said, "This beast dies today." The horse shied at the scent of his robes, snapped at his knee, and in a fury he had it slaughtered on the spot. Zhu Jianping died during the Huangchu era.
31
使
Zhou Xuan, styled Konghe, came from Le'an. He held a clerkship in the commandery. Prefect Yang Pei dreamed a voice: "On the eighth month's first day Lord Cao will come, cane you, and give you a draught of physic." He asked Zhou Xuan to interpret the dream. Yellow Turbans were active; Zhou replied, "A staff aids the feeble, medicine cures sickness—the calends of the eighth month will see the rebels destroyed." On that day the uprising collapsed as he said.
32
使
Later, Liu Zhen of Dongping dreamed of a snake growing four feet and living in a hole in the gate. He had Xuan divine it, and Xuan said, "This is a dream concerning the state, not an affair of your household. It means women outlaws will be executed." Soon the women rebels Zheng and Jiang were put down—the serpent stood for women, and legs were an ill omen on a snake.
33
殿 便 使使
Cao Pi asked Zhou, "Two roof tiles fell and became mandarin ducks—what omen is that?" Zhou Xuan answered, "Someone in the harem will die a violent death." The emperor said, "I was only testing you!" Zhou Xuan replied, "Dreams follow the mind; if you take the images as stated, you can divine good and ill." Before he finished, a eunuch reported a fatal brawl among the palace women. Soon Cao Pi added, "Last night green mist rose from the ground to the sky." Zhou Xuan replied, "Under Heaven a noble woman will die wrongfully." He had already dispatched an edict commanding Empress Zhen to kill herself; hearing Zhou he tried to recall the courier but was too late. The Emperor again asked: "I dreamed rubbing the coin inscription, wishing to make it vanish yet it grew brighter; what is the meaning?" Zhou fell silent, troubled. Pressed again, he said, "This is your own family matter: you would erase your brother, but the empress dowager forbids it—hence the vanishing script that only shines the brighter." Cao Pi had meant to crush Cao Zhi but, blocked by the dowager, merely cut his fief. He made Zhou Xuan a palace gentleman attached to the imperial astronomer.
34
使
Someone once asked Zhou Xuan, "I dreamed last night of a straw dog—what is the omen?" Zhou Xuan answered, "Your lordship is about to obtain fine food!" Shortly after, the man walked out into a banquet. Later he again asked Zhou Xuan, "Last night I again dreamed a straw dog—why?" Zhou Xuan said, "Your lordship is about to fall from a cart and break a leg—you should be cautious." It happened exactly as he said. Later he again asked Zhou Xuan, "Last night I again dreamed a straw dog—why?" Zhou Xuan said, "Your lordship's house will catch fire—you should guard it carefully." Soon flames broke out. The man confessed, "I never dreamed those three times. I was only testing you—why did every guess hit?" Zhou Xuan replied, "This is spirits moving you to speak; therefore it is no different from a true dream." He pressed Zhou: "Why did the same dream mean three different things?" Xuan said: "A straw dog is a thing for sacrificing to spirits. The first time you were still at the feast—you got leftovers. After the rite the dog is run over—hence the second omen was a cart crash. Once crushed, it becomes fuel—hence the third sign was fire." Such was Zhou Xuan's way with dreams. He was right eight or nine times in ten, and people ranked him with Zhu Jianping. Other hits are omitted here for brevity. He died toward the end of Emperor Ming's rule.
35
便 宿 便 姿 便使
Guan Lu, styled Gongming, hailed from Pingyuan. He was homely and unkempt, loved wine, and bantered freely with high and low—loved by many, respected by few. 〈His childhood biography says that at eight or nine he star-gazed, questioned every passerby, and refused sleep. His parents could not stop him. He said, "I am young, yet my eyes love the sky." He often said, "House fowl and wild swan still know the seasons—how much more a man?" With village playmates he traced constellations in the dirt. His talk baffled learned elders, who sensed a prodigy. As a man he mastered the Zhou yi, astrology, wind divination, sortilege, and face-reading with rare finesse. He was magnanimous and tolerant; he neither nursed grudges nor flattered himself, preferring to return harm with kindness. He often said: "Loyalty, filial piety, trust, and righteousness are people's root; one cannot fail to make them thick; while punctilious scruples were mere ornament for gentlemen, not worth pursuing." He himself said, "Those who understand me are few, and therefore I am precious. How could I cut off the flow of the Yangzi and Han merely to make the water as clear as struck stone? I would argue cosmology with the diviner Jizhu rather than drift with the recluse on the river—that is my bent." He was a dutiful son, loving brother, and gentle friend—kindness came from the heart without stint. Even carping critics eventually bowed to him. His father governed Jiju in Langya; at fifteen Guan Lu went to the yamen to study. On first reading the Odes, Analects, and Changes primer he wrote with sudden depth and elegance. More than four hundred students in the hall deferred to his gift. Prefect Shan Zichun of Langya, a man of parts, heard of the boy and sent for him. At a banquet of a hundred guests Guan said to Shan, "You are a formidable host and I a timid boy; let me brace myself with three pints of wine before we spar." Delighted, Shan poured three pints and had him drink alone. When the wine was gone Guan asked, "Do you mean to debate me with every guest here?" Bao Zichun said, "I wish to match you myself, banner against drum." Guan said, "I have only the Odes, Analects, and Changes—I cannot discourse like a historian, only on the five phases and spirits." Shan began: "That is the hardest topic—do you call it easy?" Shan launched a soaring lecture on yin and yang, lush with metaphor and light on quotation. The hall piled on objections, yet Guan parried every thrust with room to spare. Dusk fell and the feast stalled untouched. Shan told the guests, "This boy sounds like Sima Xiangru's hunting fu—he will master heaven, earth, and change, not mere rhetoric." Word spread through Xu Province and men hailed him a child prodigy.〉
36
使 便 便 宿
While Guan Lu's father served at Licao, the brothers Guo En—all lame—asked him to cast a hexagram for the cause. Guan Lu said, "The sign points to your family grave and a woman's ghost there—either a great-aunt or an aunt by marriage. In famine years someone robbed her of a few measures of rice, shoved her into a well, and dropped a rock that smashed her skull; her vengeful shade cried to Heaven." Guo En wept and confessed. 〈The anecdotal life: Guo En of Licao, styled Yibo, was a scholar of the Changes and Chunqiu and knew astrology. Guan Lu studied the Yi under him and within weeks was posing problems that stumped his teacher. He cast stalks for classmates' fortunes without a single miss, and they called him a prodigy. He spent thirty sleepless nights learning star lore, then told Guo, "Teach me the lay of ruins and villages; cosmic cycles and disasters I will read from my own gift." Within a year Guo En was the pupil asking Guan Lu about the Yi and the sky. Every lecture left Guo En slapping his knee in wonder. He said, "When I hear you speak, I forget my crippling sickness—what a gulf between ignorance and light!" Yibo acted as host and invited Lu alone. He told him all his hardships, saying, "We three brothers all suffer from crippling illness, and I do not know the cause. He begged a divination to learn the reason. If guilt was involved, he asked Guan to intercede with the gods without stinting offerings. If we brothers can walk again, it will be a new life for us." Guan Lu cast the hexagram but needed time to read it. It happened to be evening; therefore he stayed overnight; reaching midnight he told Yibo: "By this I obtain it." When Guan Lu spoke, Guo sobbed through his robe: "It happened in the dying days of Han. You spared the culprit's name—that was discretion. I may not tell—that is propriety. We have been crippled thirty years with feet like briars—no cure remains; I only hope our children escape it." Guan Lu said the fire line would not extend to posterity, the water line was exhausted—so the curse would not pass down.〉
37
使
The wife of Liu Fenglin of Guangping lay dying; the coffin was already ordered. It was the first month; they had Lu divine; he said: "Her fate lies at noon on the xinmao day of the eighth month." Liu scoffed, she rallied, then in autumn relapsed and died exactly as foretold. 〈Bao Zichun, magistrate of Lieren, met Guan Lu and said, "I heard you divined the day of Liu Fenglin's wife's death—how detailed and subtle; try to explain its meaning." Guan Lu expounded the lines with compass-and-square precision. Zichun himself said: "In youth I enjoyed discussing the Changes and also liked dividing milfoil stalks. It could be called a blind man wishing to see black and white, or a deaf man wishing to hear clear and muddy sounds: painful effort with no result. After hearing you, I see how confused I have been."〉"
38
便 便
Lu went to see Wang Ji, Administrator of Anping. Ji had him cast a hexagram, and Lu said, "There should be a lowly woman who gives birth to a boy; as soon as he falls to the ground, he runs into the stove and dies. A great snake would coil on the couch gripping a brush while all looked on, then vanish. A crow would enter, fight a swallow to the death, and leave. You will see these three oddities." Wang Ji was alarmed and asked whether they boded harm. Lu said: "Straight—guest quarters long abandoned, chi-mei wang-liang make marvels only. The infant did not run on its own; the fire-god sprite Song Wuji dragged it into the stove. The snake with the brush was an old clerk's ghost. The crow and swallow were old retainers reborn as birds. The hexagrams show images, not disaster—no true curse, so set your mind at ease." Nothing untoward followed. 〈The Separate Biography of Lu states: Ji and Lu discussed the Changes together for several days, and Ji was greatly delighted. He told Lu, "We have both heard that you are skilled at divination; let us have a clear discussion together. Your gift belongs in the histories," he said." Lu cast a hexagram for Ji and knew that he was without blame. He therefore told Ji, "Formerly, by Gaozong's cauldron, it was no pheasant that should have cried; on the steps and courtyard of Yin, it was no mulberry that should have grown. Yet after a wild bird cried once, Wu Ding became Gaozong; after mulberry and grain briefly sprang up, Taiwu rose to greatness. I know that these three matters are not auspicious signs. I pray that you, Prefect, settle your body and cultivate your virtue, calmly enlarging your radiance. Do not let knowledge of uncanny treacheries defile your heavenly truth."〉
39
使 西 使 便
Women in the Xindu magistrate's house fell sick in turns from fright; Guan Lu was summoned. Lu said, "At the west end of your north hall are two dead men. One holds a spear, and the other holds a bow and arrows; their heads are inside the wall and their feet outside it. The spearman caused the crushing headaches. The archer caused the gnawing belly pain and loss of appetite. They haunted by day and afflicted the women at night." When the bones were dug up and moved, the household healed. 〈Wang Ji had the magistrate dig eight feet down and found two coffins—one with a spear, one with a horn bow and rotted shafts. Reburial ten li outside the city ended the sickness. Wang Ji said, "I thought I knew the Yi until I saw how subtle its numbers truly are." He went on to study the Yi and stars under Guan Lu. Guan Lu's readings of change and fortune were always meticulous. Wang Ji said, "At first your words seemed chaos; now I see they were heaven's language, not human craft." He shelved the Yi and gave up divination himself. Someone from Lu's home village, a man of Taiyuan, asked Lu, "Earlier, when you discussed marvels for Prefect Wang, you said that an old secretary became a snake and an old bell-ringer became a crow. These had originally been people; why did they transform into such lowly things? Was it appearing in the hexagram images, coming from your lordship's intent?" Guan Lu replied, "Unless you grasp nature and the Way of Heaven, you cannot read the lines by whim. All things change shape without fixed rank; people too may shrink or swell—no high or low in that. Such transformation follows one universal pattern. Gun became a yellow bear and Liu Ruyi a hound though both were royal—so there is no shame in low shapes. The swallow fits the chen-si stations, the crow embodies the sun—dark omens in daylight—so petty clerks appearing as snake and crow is hardly too strange!"〉"
40
使
Wang Jing of Qinghe, home from office, met Guan Lu. Jing said: "Recently there has been one marvel, greatly displeasing—I wish to trouble you to make a hexagram." When the hexagram was complete, Lu said: "The lines are auspicious—it is not a marvel. At night before the hall door, your lordship saw a flowing light like a swallow or sparrow enter your breast, making a low, rumbling sound. Your inner spirit was unsettled; you loosened your robe and wandered about, calling your wife and searching for the remaining light." Jing laughed greatly and said: "Indeed as your lordship said." Lu said: "Auspicious—it is the sign of moving office; the response will arrive soon." Soon Wang Jing was named governor of Jiangxia. 〈The Separate Biography of Lu says: Jing wished to have Lu divine for him, but spoke in doubtful and challenging terms. Lu laughed and reproached him, saying, "Your lordship is an eminent man of the region; how coarse your words are! He quoted Sima Jizhu: diviners must mirror heaven, earth, seasons, and virtue. Fuxi invented the eight trigrams and King Wen the 384 lines that ordered the world. The Yi heals, saves, frees, and joins families—worth far more than a few coins. So divination is serious business. When the Way is clear, even sages defer—how dare a commoner call it trifling!" Yanwei folded hands and apologized to Lu: "The former words were jest." Guan Lu cast again and every word came true. Wang Jing said Guan Lu held dragon-and-cloud essence and could harmonize life and read the unseen—not mere clever guessing.〉
41
使
At Guo En's a mourning dove perched on the rafters. Lu said: "There ought to be an old man coming from the east, carrying one piglet, one pot of wine. The host would rejoice, yet a small mishap would follow." Next day the guest came as foretold. Guo told him to spare wine and meat and watch the fire, but the guest shot a chicken; the bolt glanced and wounded a little girl's hand. 〈Guan Lu tried to teach Guo En bird augury but said he lacked ear and genius for pitch. Guan Lu explained to him the changes of the eight winds and the numbers of the five tones, taking the pitch pipes as the scale of the many birds and the six jia as the starting point of days and hours, turning the matter over through all its bends with inexhaustible entries and exits. Guo pondered for days and grasped nothing. Guo said, "My talent stays within its limit—I cannot follow you here." He gave up the study.〉
42
西 西婿 ' 退 使
At Liu Changren's of Ande an urgent magpie cried on the roof. Lu said, "The magpie says that to the northeast there is a woman who killed her husband yesterday and has implicated Li Lou, the man from the western neighbor's house. Before the sun sets into Yu Abyss, the one who reports it will arrive." At the appointed time a neighbor came from the northeast denouncing the wife's lie. 〈The Separate Biography of Lu says: Liu Changren of Bohai had skill in disputation. At first, when he heard that Lu could understand birds' cries, he later challenged Lu whenever he saw him, saying, "The sounds made by living people are called speech, while the sounds of birds and beasts are called cries. Speech therefore possesses the noble spirit of intelligent knowledge, while cries bear the lowly name of lacking knowledge. How can you treat birds' cries as language, confusing what divine illumination has distinguished? Confucius said, "I will not herd with birds and beasts"—clarifying their baseness." Lu answered, "Although Heaven has great images, it cannot speak. Therefore it moves the essences of the stars above, sends numinous illumination flowing below, verifies anomalies through wind and cloud, and employs birds and beasts to communicate with the spirit realm. He cited omens—geese, Bo Ji's fire, winds before conflagration, red birds by the sun. These were heaven's own signs. Checked against pitch and human events, they never miss. Ancient Gelu heard meaning in animal cries, recorded in the Chunqiu—real precedent, not idle sage lore. The rise of Shang began from a single swallow's egg. King Wen's mandate came with a red bird bearing a text—a sage's omen and Zhou's good fortune—hardly a vulgar sign. As for listening to birds' cries, its essence lies in Quail Fire and its subtlety in the Eight Spirits. Unless one belongs to this class, one is like Zilu when it came to death and life." Liu Changren replied, "Fine words, but I will not believe them yet." Moments later the magpie proved the case, and Liu conceded.〉
43
使 宿使
At Wang Hongzhi's farm office a three-foot whirlwind rose from the southwest, spun through the yard, died down, then stirred again before it quit. Zhi asked Lu about it, and Lu said, "A mounted courier should come from the east. I fear this means a father weeping for a son. What can be done?" Next day a messenger from Jiaodong came; Wang's son was dead. "" Zhi asked the reason; Lu said: "That day was yimao—the omen of the eldest son. Wood declines in shen, the dipper points shen, shen breaks yin—all emblems of mourning. Wind at noon meant horses. The trigram Li stands for documents—hence a clerk. Shen-wei is the tiger, the tiger the patriarch—hence a father's grief." A male pheasant flew in and perched atop the inner bell-post of Zhi's residence. Zhi was deeply uneasy and had Lu cast a hexagram. Lu said, "By the fifth month you will certainly be transferred." It was the third month; by the appointed time Wang Hongzhi was named prefect of Bohai. 〈Guan Lu added that seasonal wind and line-images were easy reading for those who knew the code." Wang Hongzhi was learned and dabbled in occult arts, yet never mastered them. He asked Lu: "Wind's shifts and changes—can they really be like this?" Guan Lu answered, "That gust was mere trivia. He pictured cosmic gales that topple mountains—omens that only masters like Zishen could date—and called that true wind lore.〉"
44
使 便
When Zhuge Yuan left Guantao for Xinxing, Guan Lu attended his farewell banquet. Zhuge sealed a swallow egg, a wasps' nest, and a spider in a jar for divination. When the hexagram was complete, Lu said, "The first object contains qi and is about to transform; it depends on hall and eaves, takes form as male and female, and spreads wings. This is a swallow's egg. The second was an inverted hive full of venom that ripens in autumn. The third was a long-legged spider spinning for prey by night." The guests gasped in delight. 〈Zhuge Yuan, styled Jingchun, was a scholar. Zhuge loved divination and often challenged Guan Lu at cover-guess, never stumping him. Rivals in debate at parting, Zhuge gathered brilliant guests for the send-off. They knew his astrology but not his genius, so they opened with sage texts and dynastic portents. Guan Lu read Zhuge's thrust, opened the field, feigned weakness, and laid a trap in the empty-death hexagrams. Zhuge retreated in rout, muttering that Guan Lu's banners had broken his city. Would-be champions beat drums, raised ladders, and bristled with arrows and banners. Guan Lu mounted the rhetorical wall, discoursed on the Five Emperors like rolling rivers and the Three Kings like soaring wings; his flourishes bloomed like spring blossoms, his attacks fell like autumn leaves. Listeners reeled; even Bai Qi's massacre or Xiang Yu's river slaughter paled beside his eloquence. The guests felt ready to surrender at the drum like defeated kings. Guan Lu stood firm as a mountain and would not accept their capitulation. Only at dawn, as they parted, did true friendship seal. For one night eight or nine of the realm's finest minds were there. Cai Yuancai cried, "We thought you a cur—how are you a dragon?" Guan Lu retorted, "Hidden yang has not yet turned—you are still a dog listening for dragons." Zhuge said, "We part for long—who knows when we meet again? Let us have one last round of cover-guess." Guan Lu named every hidden object. Zhuge laughed and begged him to unpack the lines and ease his mind." Guan Lu unfolded the imagery with uncanny precision. All agreed the commentary outshone the game. At farewell Zhuge warned him of two things: "You love wine; though you hold it well, temper it. Your mirror mind reads wonders, but stargazing burns like fat in a flame—be careful. With your gifts you will roam the clouds—riches need not worry you." Guan Lu answered, "I will drink with ritual and feign dullness with talent—then what peril remains?"〉
45
Guan Lu visited his cousin Xiao Guo at Chiqiu and met two travelers. After the guests had gone, Lu told Xiao Guo, "Both these men have ominous qi between the forehead court, mouth, and ears. Strange changes are rising for both; their two souls will have no dwelling, 〈He added, "Rich food is slow poison; dusk hides heaven's breath; Kan means coffins, Dui hearses."〉 Their souls will drift to the sea, their bones come home—soon both will die." Ten days later they drowned when a drunken ox cart plunged into the Zhang.
46
使 鹿
In those days Guan Lu's neighbors left doors unbolted and lost nothing to thieves. Prefect Hua Biao of Qinghe appointed him literary clerk. Zhao Kongyao of Anping recommended Guan Lu to Ji Province Inspector Pei Hui, saying: "Guan Lu is broad and generous by nature and has no jealousy toward the world. Looking up at astronomy, he is as subtle as Gan Gong and Shi Shen; looking down at the Zhou Changes, his thought equals Sima Jizhu. Your grace ranges the wilds for talent—let Guan Lu join your winged court." Pei Hui hired him as literary attendant and befriended him warmly. He followed the office to Julu and rose to administrator and chief of staff.
47
西 西 使 使 使 使 使 使 使使 使 便使 便鹿 使使
When he first answered the provincial summons, he rode in a cart with his younger brother Jiru. On reaching the west of Wucheng, he divined his own fortune and told Jiru, "If we see three wildcats in the old city, then the matter will be made clear." At the river ruin they found three cats as foretold and rejoiced. In Zhengshi 9 he was nominated as a cultivated talent. 〈Summoned by Prefect Hua to the northern academy, he won every scholar's envy. Zhao Kongyao, his sworn friend, rode from Fagan to say, "Your mind is an ocean—half the age is dead and none alive can match you; why linger here instead of soaring? News of you here ruins my appetite. Inspector Pei of Ji is lucid on mystery and never tires of Yi, Laozi, and Zhuang. He esteems me and keeps faith. I will go plead for you with the sincerity that moves tigers and splits stone." Guan Lu answered, "I am no dragon of the four seas—I cannot darken the noon sun. Unless you can raise the east wind and morning clouds, do not ask miracles of me." So Zhao went to Ji and presented his case to Pei Hui. The envoy said: "Why has your lordship's complexion thinned so?" Zhao said, "I am not ill, but Qinghe cages a thoroughbred a hundred eighty li from Wang Liang and Bole—that breaks my heart." Where is this horse?" Pei asked." Kongyao said, "Guan Lu of Pingyuan, courtesy name Gongming, is thirty-six sui. His nature is generous and broad, and he bears no jealousy toward the world. He may be called a hero among scholars. He rivals Gan and Shi in stars, Sima Jizhu in the Yi, and plumbs the Dao without end—a champion among scholars. He holds Jing Mountain jade and a night-shining pearl yet serves as a petty clerk—an outrage. He urged Pei to range the marshes for talent so the throne need not rule alone and Guan Lu could spread his wings across the realm." Pei Hui cried, "How can that be? In this great province I have seen no genius to cheer me—I thought of returning to court for discourse—can the weeds hide such a man? I will fetch him—do not let the thoroughbred become a hack or Jing jade turn to field rock." He issued a summons naming Guan Lu literary attendant. They talked pure philosophy all day without tiring. In great heat they moved the couch under a tree and talked until cockcrow. At the second meeting he became Julu attendant. The third meeting won him administrator. The fourth made him chief of staff. By the tenth month he was nominated cultivated talent. When Guan Lu took leave of Prefect Pei, Pei addressed him. "(Text variant: the graph Ding.) Ministers Ding and Deng govern the state yet lack subtle science. Minister He is razor-keen—beware his questions. He admits nine points of the Yi he cannot fathom—he will quiz you on them. Before you reach Luoyang, master those nine problems." Guan Lu answered, "He Yan is clever at hard questions but skims the surface—he has not touched the spirit of the Yi. True mastery of spirit means pacing the sky pivot, plumbing yin and yang, sounding the void—only then does the Way open without end; fine chatter is beneath it. Ranking Laozi against hexagrams and chasing rhetorical flowers is archery trickery, not the hair-splitting subtlety of the Yi. If those nine questions are only orthodox doctrine, they hardly strain the mind. Yin and yang repay lifelong study. After I leave, the New Year will bring punishing gales that snap trees. If it rises from the qian trigram, expect heaven's wrath—no fit topic for salon chat."〉"
48
西 使 使
On the 28th of the twelfth month He Yan, minister of personnel, summoned him; Deng Yang was present. Yan said to Lu, "I have heard that your work with the hexagram lines is divinely subtle. Try casting a hexagram: can you tell whether my rank will reach the Three Dukes?" Again he asked: "Repeatedly I dreamed several tens of green flies come on my nose; driving them they would not go—what meaning?" Lu said, "The flying owl is a despised bird in the realm, yet when it eats mulberries in the forest, it cherishes a fine sound. How much more is my heart not grass or wood; how would I dare not exhaust my loyalty? Eight worthies aided Shun with mercy; the Duke of Zhou kept vigil for the boy king—thus their virtue lit the world. That is the reward of walking the Way. It is not something divination clarifies. You tower like a peak and strike like lightning, yet few love you and many fear you—hardly the humble care that wins heaven's favor. The nose is the Gen trigram—the "mountain amid heaven. 〈Pei Songzhi notes: Face-readers call the bridge of the nose "mid-heaven. The nose resembles a mountain, hence the phrase.〉 High without danger—that is how rank endures. Now stinking flies swarm that height. Lofty stations topple; swaggering pride dies—think on the toll of excess and the turn of fate. Hence the hexagrams Modesty—mountain under earth—and Strength—thunder above heaven. Modesty trims excess to help the needy; Strength refuses unrighteous paths. None who humbled himself failed to shine; none who broke ritual escaped ruin. Study King Wen's lines and Confucius's judgments—then you may win the Three Dukes and brush away the flies." Deng Yang sneered, "Threadbare moralizing." Guan Lu shot back, "The 'old pedant' is deathless only in name; 'common talk' never reaches the uncommon." He Yan said, "We will meet again after the New Year." 〈He Yan hosted him and they cleared nine Yi problems together. Yan said: "Your lordship's discourse on yin and yang—this generation has no pair." At that time Deng Yang was sitting together with Yan. Yang said, "People say you are skilled in the Changes, yet your conversation at first does not touch on the words or meanings within the Changes. Why is that?" Guan Lu answered, "Those who truly know the Yi do not chatter the Yi." He Yan smiled and praised him: "One may call it essential speech without fuss." He then asked for another casting. After the admonition He Yan thanked him: "Reading the subtle signs is hard even for the ancients; to speak plainly to a new acquaintance is harder still for us today; yet you did both at one sitting—true fragrant virtue. As the Classic says, "Treasured in the heart—when could I forget?"'"〉" Guan Lu told his uncle everything; the uncle scolded him for being too blunt. Guan Lu said: "Why fear words to walking corpses?" The uncle raged and called him mad. At New Year a black gale blew for days; when He Yan and Deng Yang died, the uncle conceded. 〈His uncle the grandee Xia asked Guan Lu, "On the day you saw He Yan and Deng Yang, was there already ill qi?" Guan Lu said, "Sit with the doomed and you see heaven's mesh; stand by the fortunate and you see how sages seek the subtle. Deng Yang walked like a flailing ghost—tendons loose, frame unstrung. He Yan looked like a ghost in shadow—spirit adrift, face like dry wood. Ghost-fidget falls to the wind; ghost-gloom feeds the fire—such signs cannot be hidden." Later because he obtained rest, Inspector Pei asked: "He Pingshu one generation's talent and fame—what is he really like?" Guan Lu said, "His mind is basin-deep—clear on the surface, turbid below. His spirit roamed wide but skipped study—so he never ripened into genius. Trying to map a mountain from a puddle only muddles the mind. Hence his Laozi-Zhuang talk was clever but florid, his Yi glosses pretty but hollow. Floridity floats the Way; falseness empties the spirit. Against a true master he would run dry; against middling minds he seemed brilliant—small beer, in my view." Pei Hui said, "You speak truth. I often debated Laozi, Zhuangzi, and the Yi with He Yan and found his words subtler than his logic, yet I could not corner him. Fashion bowed to him, which only deepened the fog. Hearing you, the matter burns clear."〉"
49
使 耀 耀 使
Earlier, when Lu visited Zhong Yu, Administrator of Wei Commandery, they discussed the meaning of the Changes together. Lu then said, "Through divination one can know the days of your lordship's birth and death." Zhong tested him on his natal day; Guan Lu hit it exactly. Zhong Yu gasped, "You are a fearsome man. I leave death to Heaven, not to you." He refused further divination. Yu asked Lu: "Will the realm attain great peace?" Guan Lu said, "Just now the fourth nine flies to heaven—favorable to see the great man; divine martial rises and is established; kingly Dao is cultured and bright—why worry it will not be level?" Zhong did not grasp it until Cao Shuang fell and he understood the omen. 〈Zhong Yu, a refined scholar, posed twenty Yi puzzles he thought unanswerable. Guan Lu answered each in turn, unfolding the lines with marvelous clarity. Zhong Yu apologized at once. Lu divined and knew Yu's birth day and month. Yu was startled and said, "Sages move spirit and penetrate transformation, linking together affairs and things. How can intelligence reach such a point?" Lu said: "Dark and bright share transformation; death and life are one path; vast and long the Great Ultimate—ends and begins again. King Wen shortened his days without grief; Confucius faced death with his staff—so stalk and shell should speak plain." Zhong answered, "Life loves good news, death hates bad—I cannot level joy and sorrow; I leave it to Heaven, not to you." When Shi Bao was Agricultural Director at Ye, he met Lu and asked, "I have heard that Zhai Wenyao from your village can hide his form. Is this believable?" Lu said, "This is merely the calculation by which yin and yang conceal and hide things. If one obtains that calculation, then the four peaks can be hidden and the rivers and seas can be escaped. For a seven-foot man to veil himself in mist or mercury is easy once the formula is complete." Bao said: "I wish to hear its subtlety—your lordship for now finely discuss its numbers." Lu said, "A thing that is not refined cannot become spirit; a calculation that is not subtle cannot become an art. Thus refinement is where spirit gathers, and subtlety is where wisdom encounters it. The minute point at which they join can be understood through one's nature, but it is hard to discuss in words. So Lu Ban could not explain his hand nor Li Zhu his eye. Confucius said writing cannot exhaust speech nor speech meaning—that is true subtlety. Let me sketch the broad proof. The sun lights all heaven yet vanishes in a pit like a coal's glow. The full moon outshines the night yet pales beside a mirror by day. Those who slip sun and moon ride yin-yang; if beasts change form, so can men! Numbers bring subtlety, spirit brings wonder—both living and dead leave signs. So Duke She rode fire as a wraith; Prince Peng took water to clothe his ghost. Thus the living pass in and out, the dead show and hide—qi and wandering souls answer one another by number." Shi Bao asked, "If you know yin-yang so well, why not vanish yourself?" Lu said, "Birds that rise into the void love their lofty purity and do not covet the fish of the Yangzi and Han; deep fish love slime and do not envy wind-riders—natures divide them. I mean to stand straight in the Way and duty, not chase marvels; I study the subtle nightly, not perform roadside tricks."〉"
50
使 使 祿 西西 使 祿 祿
Liu Bin of Pingyuan sealed a purse and mountain-pheasant plumes for him to read. Lu said: "Inner square outer round, five colors form pattern, holding treasure and keeping trust—going out then there is pattern: this is a seal-sachet. Lofty peak towering steep—there is a bird with vermilion body, wings black and yellow, cries without missing dawn: this is mountain pheasant tail-feathers." Bin said: "In this commandery official buildings, repeatedly there have been uncanny changes, making people terrified—what is the reason?" Lu said, "Perhaps because in the chaos at the end of Han, soldiers and horses were in turmoil and corpses from the armies bled out, staining hills and mountains. For this reason, at dusk there are often strange forms. Your virtue draws heaven's shield; may the hundred blessings settle on you." 〈Former prefect Liu Bin, styled Lingyuan, loved the Yi without mastering it. He met Guan Lu with delight, boasting he had finished a commentary on the Yi. Guan Lu said, "You mean to compass the Way itself—that is a glorious undertaking. Yet annotating the Yi is more urgent than fire or flood; fire and flood prove themselves at once, but the Yi's subtlety endures for ages—you must fix its spirit before you publish a gloss. From dawn till now I have heard no spark of the true Yi—how can you commentate it? I cannot see why the sages seated Qian in the northwest and Kun in the southwest. Qian and Kun image heaven and earth—vast parents of the spirits that cover all creation—how can they sit as merely two of eight trigrams? The Great Commentary calls Qian Yuan the root of all things and says it "unifies heaven." Unify" means "embrace all"; nothing ranks higher—so how can it share a corner with the rest?" Liu Bin's gloss followed the Xici but missed the kernel. Guan Lu pressed each point until every argument collapsed. He said, "Qian and Kun are the ancestors of the lines; if you doubt their clarity, you lack the spirit needed to gloss the Yi." He then unfolded the eight trigrams and line imagery in sweeping, linked fashion. What Liu grasped he called subtle; what baffled him he called divine. He himself said, "I wanted to annotate the Changes and spent eight years thinking hard and painfully, passing year after year without rest, believing I had reached its ultimate discourse. But my talent does not reach the Changes. I do not cherish prolonged labor; I am glad to accept refined words such as these, and so I can rest easily with a high pillow." When Liu asked to learn cover-guess, Guan Lu said, "If you pour spirit into the Yi, leave the stalks alone. The sacred stalks encode yin and yang; in the Way they judge fate, in technique they net every trifle. Those trifles are not the Changes themselves." Liu said, "I only wanted the lesser numbers that border the Yi. If that is so, why bother with them at all?" He kept Guan Lu five days, neglecting his desk for pure discourse. Bin himself said, "Several times I discussed the Changes and the ways of Laozi and Zhuangzi with He Pingshu. When we reached the point where spirit flows far and moves with transformation, clear as metal and water and dense as mountains and forests, he was no match for you." Bin also said, "In the official buildings of this commandery there have repeatedly been strange manifestations. Such manifestations have many forms and make people afraid. You seem likely to understand these calculations; what is the reason behind them?" Guan Lu said, "Pingyuan means level earth—no rocky hills; its yin cannot lift clouds nor its yang whip gales—only weak local spirits linger; impostor sprites flock like to like. Late Han slaughter soaked the hills; angry ghosts shift shape at twilight. Yu did not fear dragons nor King Wu freak storms; your virtue shields you—may blessings gather." Bin said, "Listening to your refined discussion brings one close to the principle. Whenever there are strange manifestations, I hear the sounds of drums and horns, or see the forms of bows and swords. Earth-spirits and Bo You's ghost can combine to trouble the living." He asked whether "radiance renewed" meant one thing or two. Guan Lu said dawn glow is "radiance," noon blaze is "light." The Jin appraisals note he was born Liu Yan but renamed Liu Bin to avoid the crown prince's taboo. He rose to groom of the heir apparent. His son Liu Cui, styled Chunga, became palace attendant. Next Liu Hong, styled Zhunga, became chamberlain for ceremonies. Next Liu Han, styled Zhunga, became supernumerary grandee. Liu Han was clear-minded, his fame just below Yue Guang's. Liu Hong's son Xian became inspector of Xu. Another son, Dan, became inner prefect of Jinling. Dan's son Kai, styled Zhenchang, governed Danyang—a celebrated Eastern Jin worthy.〉
51
使 使 𣿖 西
Xu Jilong, magistrate of Qinghe, sent hunters and asked Guan Lu what they would bag. Lu said, "You should catch a small beast, not a bird fit for eating. Though it has claws and teeth, they are slight and not strong; though it has markings, they are rich but not bright. It is neither tiger nor pheasant; its name is wildcat." At dusk they brought back exactly that. Xu sealed thirteen objects in a hamper for cover-guess. Saying: "Inside the vessel, rustling, there are thirteen kinds of things." Guan Lu named each in order, mistaking only a comb for a similar fruit-picker. 〈Xu Jilong of Qinghe, styled Kaiming, was a clever man. They debated whether Orion and Mars, not beasts, raised wind and cloud. Lu said, "In debate, one should first examine the root and only afterward seek the principle. If the principle is lost, then the mechanism is mistaken; if the mechanism is mistaken, then the sources of honor and disgrace are misread. Call Orion the tiger and "valley wind" becomes a killing frost—not the Yi's gentle east wind. The dragon is yang in essence yet hides in yin; spirit rises and harmony answers—so clouds gather. The tiger is yin in form yet lives in yang; roaring in the woods of xun, the two breaths couple and stir wind. Like a lodestone drawing iron unseen—resonance proves the rule. Dragons dive and soar, tigers blaze with pattern—why doubt they summon weather?" Xu Jilong said, "A dragon in an abyss reaches no farther than the bottom of a well; a tiger's mournful roar carries no farther than a hundred paces—their form and qi are shallow and weak, and what they reach is near. How could they roll prospect-clouds and gallop the east wind?" Lu said, "Have you not seen a yin-yang fire mirror held in the palm? Its form does not leave the hand, yet above it draws down the fire of the great sun, and below it draws up the water of the great yin. Between exhalation and inhalation, vapor and light gather. When essences couple, the paired mirrors answer; without resonance even two sisters in one bed disagree. Nature knows no distance." Jilong said: "When the age has military affairs, then cocks and pheasants cry first—what is the path of this? Are there omens besides chickens and pheasants?" Lu said: "When noble men have affairs, their response lies in Heaven; in Heaven then sun, moon, and stars. When armies march, read earth—hills, woods, birds, and beasts. Cocks belong to Dui and metal—arms; pheasants to Li—fire; when Venus flares, cocks crow; when Mars runs, pheasants panic—each answers its star. War omens also ride the six jia, which shift without fixed sign. Jin's funeral ox and Hongjia's drumming stones foretold armies—omens are not limited to barnyard fowl." Jilong said, "In the eighth year of Duke Zhao, a stone spoke in Jin. Musician Kuang thought that when works were undertaken at the wrong time and resentment stirred among the people, then things that cannot speak would speak. Does this accord with principle or not?" Lu said, "Duke Ping of Jin was extravagant and luxurious, raising and adorning palaces, cutting down forest trees, and damaging metal and stone. The people's strength was exhausted, and resentment reached the mountains and marshes. Spirits were pained and people were moved; the two essences acted together. Since metal and stone share qi, dui becomes mouth and tongue, and the prodigy of mouth and tongue stirred in the numinous stone. The tradition says mistreating the people and gilding walls makes metal rebel—that is this case." Xu admired him and kept him several days. After Lu's divination about the hunt had been verified, Jilong said, "Although your lordship is divinely subtle, it is only that you do not often hide things yourself. How could you find them all?" Guan Lu said, "I join spirit with heaven and earth; milfoil and tortoise penetrate the numinous; I embrace sun and moon and roam in dark obscurity, reach change and transformation and view what is not yet so—how much more these near things—could they block clear hearing?" Xu laughed, "You are not humble—and your wit may soon run dry." Guan Lu retorted, "You cannot read humility—how dare you lecture on the Way? Heaven and earth are Qian and Kun, stalks and shells are numbers, sun and moon are Li and Kan—how am I immodest?" Xu tried thirteen objects to stump him; Guan Lu named every one. Xu sighed, "This is what the Classic means by maker and transmitter!"〉
52
西 滿 使 便 調
Marching west he stopped at Wuqiu Jian's tomb, leaned on a tree, and chanted in grief. Asked why, he said, "Though the grove is thick, it cannot last; though the elegy is fair, no heirs remain to tend it; the tomb layout shows Xuanwu headless, Qinglong footless, Baihu biting a corpse, Zhuque weeping—four fatal flaws portending clan extinction. Within two years the omen will strike." It happened as he said. Later, on leave, he visited Prefect Ni of Qinghe. At the time heaven was drought; Ni asked Lu the term for rain; Lu said: "This very night ought to rain." The day blazed cloudless; the staff scoffed. At the first drum stars and moon vanished, wind rose, and a hard rain fell. Ni feasted him in gratitude. 〈Ni doubted even after Guan Lu set the hour of rain. Lu said: "As for creation's being called spirit—not fast yet swift, not walking yet arriving. The sixteenth was a "full" day under Renzi; the Net lodge already held moisture rising at mao-chen—proof of rain. He also said Heaven had yesterday issued a summons to the five planets, proclaimed star tallies, sent the order down to the Eastern Well, delivered the command to the Southern Winnowing Basket, and ordered Thunder Duke, Lightning Mother, Wind Earl, and Rain Master to be called. The mountains exhaled yin, the streams stirred their essence, the River of Stars let down moisture, flood-dragons held numinous power, vermilion lightning chewed through the dark, rolling thunder breathed in and out the rain spirits, valley winds whispered, the six directions joined as one, and between a cough and a spit the myriad things took flowing form. Heaven keeps schedule; the Way is natural—nothing miraculous." Ni said: "High discourse, few believers—I worry for you." He kept Guan Lu and summoned witnesses. He wagered two hundred jin of veal if it rained, else Guan Lu must stay ten days. Guan Lu said, "Speaking of the expense hurts!" At dusk the sky stayed clear and the crowd mocked him. Lu said, "On the trees already there is young girl's slight wind; among the trees again there is yin birds' harmonious cry. Then the young-male wind rose and birds wheeled together—the sign had come." Soon the northeast wind rose and birds called. Before sunset layered clouds piled in the southeast. After dusk thunder rolled across the sky. At first drum stars and moon vanished, wind and black mist closed in, and rain fell in torrents. Ni teased Lu, saying: "A lucky hit—not to be called spirit." Guan Lu answered, "Luck that keeps heaven's schedule is art enough!"〉
53
使 使 滿 使使 使 西 使 使 宿 駿駿 簿 駿駿使 涿 西 便使 使 鹿鹿 鹿 使 使使
In the second year of Zhengyuan, his younger brother Chen said to Lu, "The great general treats your lordship generously. Do you expect to gain rank and wealth?" Lu sighed deeply and said, "I know for myself that I have only my allotted share. Heaven gave me clear talent, but did not give me long life. I fear that around forty-seven or forty-eight I will not live to see my daughter married or my son take a wife. If spared, he would rather govern Luoyang until lost goods lay untouched and lawsuits ceased. More likely he would judge ghosts on Mount Tai than living men in Luoyang." Chen asked the reason. Lu said, "On my forehead there is no life bone; in my eyes there is no guarding essence; in my nose there are no pillar beams; in my feet there is no Heaven root; on my back there are no three jia; in my belly there are no three ren. All these are signs of a short life. He was born under Yin on a night of eclipse. Heaven's term cannot be dodged—men simply do not see it. He had read death on more than a hundred faces without a miss." That eighth month he became assistant chamberlain. The next February he died at forty-eight. 〈His gifts met a red-sun age of blazing fame. Every man in office clung to him like leaves on a branch. Guests swarmed like clouds, and he fed them all. High or low, he received each with courtesy. The capital sought him for power and for kindness. Had he lived, his glory would have outstripped measure. Younger brother Chen once wished to follow Lu in learning divination and looking up; Lu said: "You cannot be taught. Divination demands utmost refinement; the Filial Classic and Analects suffice for high office without it." Chen gave up. No kinsman inherited his art. Chen's preface says: "When the gentlemen of Jin and Wei saw that Lu's arts of the Way were divinely subtle and that his divinations and observations made no errors, they thought he possessed hidden writings and tortoise-shell calculations. His shelf held only the standard Yilin, wind augury, and star texts—nothing arcane. He died alone in office; ghoulish curiosity-seekers stole his books, leaving only the common titles. The occult canon runs to thousands of scrolls. Few masters appear for want of genius, not want of ink. Pei Hui, He Yan, Deng Yang, Liu Shi, and the Yingchuan brothers bowed to his grasp of fate. He said debate with those five men left him sleepless with joy. With anyone else he could nap at noon. He wished only to stand with the great diviners of old on the observatory tower. Guan Chen, though dull, consulted him on men and morals without skill. When Guan Lu expounded the canon, stars, and subtle words, listeners felt swept into abyss or sky. Hard questions left them lost and sighing. Jing Fang died for his art; Guan Lu foreknew forty-eight—wiser by far. Jing Fang saw slander and warned in vain. Guan Lu hid wit in simplicity between dynasties—true foresight. Jing Fang lectured emperors and died for it—last sparks of a spent torch, pitiable. The world paired him with Jing Fang; Guan Chen refused the match. In stars and calendars he matched Gan Gong and Shi Shen. At cover-guess he outdid Dongfang Shuo. In physiognomy he rivaled Xu Fu and Tang Ju. In wind lore and bird augury he was unique to his age. Had he reached high office, his proofs would fill histories and convince later sages. Faith comes when subtlety touches spirit. He died young and obscure; this dull brother salvages one word in five from memory. His star lore on Wei-Jin fate survives less than one word in ten. A river without a headwater cannot run. A tree without roots cannot bear glorious boughs. Autumn chrysanthemums cannot match spring blooms—writing this, I blush with shame. May later readers of clear mind recover the full sense. Meng once asked my late brother which hexagram Dongfang Shuo used to name gecko and lizard in cover-guess. My brother cast the lines, spun images, and split dragon from snake at chen-si. After the discourse ended, Governor Meng of Jingzhou sighed deeply and said, 'When I hear your lordship's argument, my spirit leaps up as though it is about to fly apart. How vast and deep it is, to reach this point!'" 〈Pei Songzhi: "Liu Tai chang" is Liu Shi. Guan Chen wrote when Liu Shi held that office; "Yingchuan" means his brother Zhi. Both were famed Confucians, not debaters. Shishuo calls Liu Shi eloquent, yet not in Pei or He's league. His "birth in yin" implies Jian'an 15 (210 CE). Zhengshi 9 should make him thirty-nine, not thirty-six; Zhengyuan 3 death age forty-seven, not forty-eight—the chronology slips. Yan Zuan lately mends such gaps in historian style. He adds trustworthy notes at the margin. He records only what elders vouched for, to avoid idle slander. He once received from Chen's biography the account attributed to Grand Master Liu: "Lu first became known when he divined for a neighboring woman about her lost ox, saying that it should be to the west, inside a ruined wall, with its head hanging upward. She searched the tombs and found the beast. She accused theft until officials learned it was divination—thus Pei Hui heard of him." It also says: "There was a humble man on the road who had lost his wife. Lu divined for him and instructed him to wait the next morning inside the Dongyang city gate for a man carrying a pig, then pick a quarrel and fight with him. The pig bolted; they chased it as told. It crashed into a jar and the missing wife crawled out." Liu said Guan Chen recorded barely a tenth of the tales. Grandee Liu said: "Chen is a cultivated-talent's ability." Ji Xuanlong, a Secretariat clerk and fellow villager of Lu, said: "When Lu was living in the countryside, he once visited a distant neighbor whose household head was troubled by repeated fires. Guan Lu told him to detain a scholar with black ox and old cart on the south road. The host obeyed. The scholar tried to leave; forced to stay, he feared a plot. When the host slept, the scholar stood guard with a knife by two woodpiles. A small beast crept up blowing fire. He struck and halved a fox arsonist. The fires stopped." The former Administrator of Changguang, Chen Chengyou, orally received the account of Hua Changjun, Commandant of the Camp Gates, who said: "Formerly, when his father was Administrator of Qinghe, he summoned Lu to serve as a clerk. Jun had known him from youth, and later, because they were from the same village, he showed him increasing favor, often rode in the same carriage with him, and knew the details of his affairs. Hua said thrice as many marvels happened as were written. Guan Chen was young, dull, and rural—hence the thin record. Chen's official career reached prefecture chief clerk and department attendant; in the first years of Taikang he passed away." Jun also said, "Lu's divinations were not always correct; seven or eight out of ten were accurate. When Jun asked the reason, Lu said, 'There is no error in the principle. Sometimes those who come for divination do not say enough to reveal the facts, and therefore it turns out this way.'" The gate commandant's wife was a Lu daughter of Zhuo—ill for years. The Huas lived west of the city in Nanchan; three stables stood to their southeast. Guan Lu said an eastern healer would cure her if hired. Soon a stable conscript bound south offered a cure. Minister Lu kept him; his powders and pills worked, and the groom became court physician." It also says: "When Lu was with his father at Licao, a garrison commoner caught a deer. Returning in the morning, he saw hair and blood where someone had taken the deer, and he came to the stable to tell Lu. Lu cast a hexagram for him and said, 'There is a thief here; it is the third household in your eastern lane. Go straight to his gate, wait until no one is there, take a roof tile, secretly lift the seventh rafter on the east side of his pounding-house, and place the tile underneath. Before mealtime tomorrow, he will bring it back to you himself.' That night the thief's father fell ill and also consulted Guan Lu. Guan Lu exposed the guilt and the thief confessed. He ordered the meat returned to the kill site to lift the curse. He secretly told the hunter to reclaim his venison. Removing the tile healed the thief's father. Another clerk in the commandant's office lost something; Guan Lu told him to watch at the temple gate at dawn for a passerby who would wave toward heaven and earth and the four quarters—that encounter would lead him straight to the missing goods. By evening the property turned up exactly where he had left it." The appraisal: Hua Tuo's medicine, Du Kui's music, Zhu Jianping's physiognomy, Zhou Xuan's dream-reading, and Guan Lu's divination were all marvelously subtle, extraordinary skills. Long ago Sima Qian wrote of Bian Que, Lord Cang, and the day-calculators to spread wonder and record marvels. Hence this record.
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