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卷五十三 吳書八 張嚴程闞薛傳

Volume 53: Book of Wu 8 - Biographies of Zhang, Yan, Cheng, Kan, and Xue

Chapter 53 of 三國志 · Records of the Three Kingdoms
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Chapter 53
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1
姿
Zhang Hong, whose courtesy name was Zigang, came from Guangling. While still young he went to the capital to pursue his studies. 〈The Wu chronicle adds that he enrolled in the Imperial Academy under the erudite Han Zong, took up the Jing school's Book of Changes and the Ouyang recension of the Documents, and at Waihuang learned from Puyang Kai the Han Odes, the Record of Rites, and Zuo's Commentary.〉 Back in Guangling he earned nomination as flourishing talent and received summons from the great ministries—but he declined every appointment. 〈The same source records that He Jin, Zhu Jun, and Xun Shuang all tried to hire him as a clerk; each time he pleaded illness and stayed home.〉 He crossed the river to escape the turmoil in the north. When Sun Ce was carving out his new lordship in the southeast, Zhang Hong entered his service at once. Sun Ce had him recommended as Colonel of Correct Counsel. 〈The Wu documents note that Hong and Zhang Zhao shared strategic counsel, with one usually left to hold the rear while the other rode with the army—until Lü Bu seized Xu Province and made himself its governor, after which Lü kept Hong from accompanying Sun Ce. Lü Bu then nominated Hong again for flourishing talent and ordered him north with an official summons. Hong despised Lü Bu and refused to humble himself to him. Sun Ce prized him just as highly and wanted him at his own side. Sun Ce wrote back refusing to release him, arguing that fine pearls are treasure wherever the sea casts them up, and that "though Chu may boast talent, it is Jin that puts it to use"—talent is not a monopoly of one region. A true man of stature wins regard wherever he goes; he need not hail from our own commandery alone."〉" When he followed on the campaign against Danyang, Ce personally entered the ranks of battle; Hong remonstrated, saying, "The commander is that from which plans proceed of themselves and to which the life of the three armies is tied; it is not fitting that he should lightly expose himself. Even against a petty foe, he urged, Sun Ce should guard the authority Heaven had invested in him, answer the expectations of the realm, and spare the court the terror of seeing its chief constantly in the thick of the fight."
2
宿 便 祿
Zhang Hong urged Sun Quan to make Moling his capital, and Quan accepted the advice. 〈The Jiang biao zhuan states: Hong said to Quan, "Moling was established by King Wu of Chu and was named Jinling. The ground runs in a chain of heights toward Stone City; elders say that when the First Emperor toured east his geomancers read Jinling's breath as fit for an imperial seat, so he cut the ridge-line and renamed the place Moling. The traces of the place are still present, the ground still has that qi—it is Heaven's mandate; it ought to be the capital." Quan praised the plan but did not adopt it immediately. Later Liu Bei came east, stayed at Moling, walked the ground himself, and urged Sun Quan to move the court there as well. Sun Quan replied, "Wise men read the land the same way." He then made Moling his capital. The Annals of Emperor Xian states: When Liu Bei reached Jing, he said to Sun Quan, "Wu is several hundred li from here; if there is sudden alarm, rushing to the rescue is hard—has the General no thought of stationing troops at Jing?" Quan said, "Moling has a small river over a hundred li on which large ships can be anchored; I am just now organizing the navy and ought to move my base there." Bei said, "Wuhu is close to Ruxu—that is also excellent." Quan said, "I intend to strike toward Xu Province and ought to be close to the lower reaches." Pei Songzhi objects that Moling and Wuhu are scarcely different in marching distance for a northern offensive. To argue that Quan chose Moling chiefly to keep an eye on Xu Province is strained logic. Every other account credits Liu Bei with the Moling plan; only this passage says Quan acted on his own—another slip of the brush, in Pei's judgment. Ordered back to Wu to fetch his household, he took sick en route and died. On the verge of death he handed his son Jing a parting note, saying, "From antiquity, those who had states or households all wished to cultivate virtuous government so as to rival the height of a flourishing age; as for their actual rule, most did not achieve a fragrant reputation. The fault, he insisted, was seldom for lack of loyal advisers who understood statecraft, but because sovereigns surrendered to appetite and would not heed them. Human nature flees hardship for ease and conformity for dissent—the very opposite of sound rule. As the Classic says, virtue is an uphill climb and vice a downhill run—the good is simply harder won. A ruler sits on ages of accumulated power, leans on inherent advantage, holds the eight levers of control described in the Zhou li, yet still craves easy consensus— 〈the Grand Steward's chapter lists eight "handles" by which the throne steers its officials. First, rank and title to secure their standing. Second, stipends to secure their fortune. Third, gifts to bind their gratitude. Fourth, placement in office to shape their conduct. Fifth, sparing life to preserve their good fortune. Sixth, stripping wealth to humble the over-rich. Seventh, removal from office to answer their guilt. Eighth, capital punishment to answer grave fault."〉 He fancies he owes nothing to counsel drawn from outside himself— —while loyal ministers bring awkward remedies and blunt speech; no wonder they so often fall out of step with their lord. Even then— —fault-finding thrives, flatterers exploit every crack, petty loyalty dazzles the ruler, private affection clouds judgment, wise and foolish are mixed, and proper order between old and young collapses; passion is always the root of the chaos. A clear-sighted ruler sees that danger and hunts talent as hungrily as a starving man seeks food. He welcomes criticism without tiring, reins in appetite and affection, and lets duty cut through private ties, so that appointments above stay fair and no one below nurses vain hopes of pull. You ought thrice to reflect, endure shame and harbor resentments, so as to accomplish the great canopy of benevolent oversight." He died that year at the age of sixty. Sun Quan wept when he read the testament.
3
使 使 使 使 禿
Zhang Hong left behind more than ten pieces of verse and commemorative prose—odes, rhapsodies, inscriptions, and laments. 〈The Book of Wu notes that he wrote a rhapsody on a rosewood pillow whose grain charmed him. Chen Lin in the north saw it and showed it to people, saying, "This is the work of Zigang from my home region." When Hong later read Chen's Armory Rhapsody and Discourse on Seizing the Moment, he wrote Chen a letter of unstinting admiration. Lin replied, "Since your servant has been north of the Yellow River, separated from the world, in this region literature has generally been scarce, so it is easy to stand as chief bull—therefore they have made your servant receive these excessive praises, which are not the reality. With Yu Fan here and you and Zhang Zhao there," he added, "it is the little shaman meeting the great one—every pretense of skill collapses." Hong was not only a lover of letters but a fine calligrapher in standard and seal scripts, and he penned his own correspondence to Kong Rong. Rong sent Hong a letter, saying, "Before this you took trouble with your own hand, mostly in seal script. opening the scroll felt like meeting the writer in person."〉" His son Zhang Xuan rose to governor of Nan commandery and ministerial secretary at court. 〈The Jiangbiao zhuan adds that Zhang Xuan was scrupulous and high-minded, though he lacked his father's brilliance. Xuan was succeeded by his son Shang— 〈the Jiangbiao zhuan records— —that the younger Zhang Shang possessed exceptional talent. Under Sun Hao he began as a gentleman cadet, then won promotion to palace attendant and chief secretary for his ready tongue. Hao ordered Shang to play the zither; Shang replied, "Plainly I cannot." The emperor ordered him to learn. Later, during a banquet when talk turned to the fineness of the zither, Shang thereupon cited that "Duke Ping of Jin ordered Music Master Kuang to perform the Qingjiao air; Kuang said my lord's virtue was thin and not sufficient to hear it." Hao assumed Shang was likening him to Duke Ping and took offense. When Shang later fell into jail on accumulated charges, interrogators kept circling back to that banquet remark. 〈Huan Kai's Wu ji records Hao quizzing him whether the Classic's "cypress boat" meant only cypress wood would do. Shang replied, "The ode also speaks of 'oak oars and pine boat,' so pine also makes boats fit for the river." He also asked, "Among birds the great ones are only the crane; are the small ones only the sparrow?" Shang replied, "There are greater birds such as the condor, and smaller ones such as the wren." Because Hao could not bear anyone to outshine him while Shang habitually one-upped him in debate, resentment piled up. Later he asked, "With whom do you compare my drinking?" Shang replied, "Your Majesty has the capacity of a hundred goblets." Hao said, "Shang knows that Confucius never became king, yet compares me to him!" On that pretext Hao had him arrested. Cen Hun led more than a hundred officials from the Three Excellencies down in a gate vigil that commuted Shang's sentence from death. He was banished to Jian'an to labor in the shipyards. Months later further charges brought his execution. Earlier, Hong's countrymen Qin Song (Wenbiao) and Chen Duan (Zizheng) had stood with him in Sun Ce's favor and shared in his strategic counsel. Both men died young.
4
使 祿 使
Yan Jun, courtesy name Mancai, came from Pengcheng. Devoted to learning from boyhood, he mastered the Odes, the Documents, and the three ritual texts, and loved Xu Shen's Shuowen dictionary as well. He crossed south with the refugees, forming with Zhuge Jin and Bu Zhi the region's best-known trio of scholars. Plainspoken, warm, and earnest, he gave friends candid counsel in the hope of doing genuine good. Zhang Zhao introduced him to Sun Quan, who named him cavalry commandant and secretary-adviser. When Lu Su died, Quan tried to put Yan Jun in his place at Lukou with a ten-thousand-man army. The court congratulated him on the promotion. Jun firmly declined before and after, saying, "I am a rustic scholar, not practiced in military affairs; if I take a post beyond my ability, remorse is bound to follow." He argued himself hoarse to the point of tears— 〈—and the Zhi lin adds that when Quan made him mount a horse to prove himself, he tumbled straight off the saddle. Sun Quan yielded to his pleas, and later generations honored him for declining a post he could not honestly fill. After Quan became King of Wu and then emperor, Yan Jun served as commandant of the guards and envoy to Shu, where Zhuge Liang formed the highest opinion of him. He never stockpiled salary or largesse, passing every coin to relatives and old friends until his own house often ran short. Liu Ying of Guangling, Yan Jun’s longtime friend, was a recluse scholar of deep learning; when Sun Quan summoned him he pleaded sickness and stayed away. When Liu Ying’s brother Liu Lüe died in office as governor of Lingling, Liu Ying traveled south for the funeral—whereupon Quan, seeing through his old excuse, had him arrested by express courier. Yan Jun raced word to Liu Ying urging him to hurry back and make his peace with the throne. Quan stripped Yan Jun of office in his fury, yet spared Liu Ying once the man presented himself. Years later Yan Jun was recalled as director of the secretariat; he died in that role. 〈The Book of Wu records that he was seventy-eight at his death and left two sons, Kai and Shuang. Yan Kai rose to junior guardian of the Shengping workshops.〉 Yan Jun wrote a commentary on the Classic of Filial Piety, a treatise on tides, and exchanged essays with Pei Xuan and Zhang Cheng on Guan Zhong and Zilu. All of these works survived in circulation. Pei Xuan, courtesy Yanhuang, came from Xiapi; he was another scholar of substance who reached the post of palace counselor. Pei Xuan once pressed his son Pei Qin to rank Duke Huan, Duke Wen, Boyi, and Liu Xiahui; father and son argued the point at length, each line of reasoning tightly woven. Pei Qin kept company with the heir apparent Deng, who admired the brilliance of his writing.
5
Cheng Bing, courtesy Deshu, was a native of Nandun in Runan. He studied under Zheng Xuan, then fled south to Jiaozhou, where debates with Liu Xi on the great texts gave him command of the entire Five Classics corpus. Shi Xie named him chief clerk of his staff. Sun Quan, hearing his reputation, summoned him with full ceremony and, on his arrival, made him grand tutor to the crown prince. In Huangwu 4, when the heir took Lady Zhou’s daughter as his bride, Cheng Bing—as minister of the heir’s household—escorted her from Wu while Sun Quan himself boarded his boat to honor him. After the wedding Cheng Bing quietly lectured the heir: marriage begins the moral order that kingship rests on, which is why sage-kings treated it as the lever that moves the people—hence the Odes open with “Guan ju. He urged the prince to let ritual govern the inner chambers and to live up to the virtues hymned in the “Zhou nan,” so that reform would start at court and praise spread through the realm.” The heir smiled and answered, “Then I shall rely on my tutor both to encourage what is right and to check what goes wrong.” Cheng Bing died of illness while still in office. His published scholarship—Selections from the Changes, critiques of the Documents, and glosses on the Analects—ran to over thirty thousand graphs. While Cheng Bing tutored the heir, Zheng Chong of Henan—director of the office that kept palace gate hours—was another scholar noted for learning and upright living. 〈The Wu lu records that Zheng Chong, courtesy Zihe, mastered the Changes and Zuo’s Commentary and dabbled in esoteric arts as well. Born a Li, he adopted a new surname during the wars and withdrew to Kuaiji, supporting himself by the plow while he pursued his studies. Admirers sought him as a teacher, but he took only a handful of pupils at a time, stopping enrollment until each had truly mastered his lesson. Men like Chancellor Bu Zhi, who counted him a friend, treated him almost as family. Yan Jun memorialized that Zheng Chong’s character could reform local morals and his erudition qualified him to instruct the heir. At his first audience with the crown prince he was excused from full prostration on grounds of ill health. Every member of the heir’s household staff came to him for advice. The prince often dropped in to draw out his store of curious learning. He died at the age of seventy.〉
6
Xue Zong, courtesy Jingwen, hailed from Zhuyi county in Pei commandery. 〈The Wu lu traces the clan to the fief of Xue granted to Lord Mengchang of Qi. When Qin swallowed the rival kingdoms the house lost its ancestral cult, and the clan scattered. The Han founder, marching through Qi, hunted up Lord Mengchang’s surviving grandsons Ling and Guo and meant to restore their title. The two brothers each refused the honor, withdrew to Zhuyi, and adopted the place-name Xue as their new surname. From Xue Guo to Xue Zong every generation held provincial posts, making them one of the great houses of the southeast. Xue Zong mastered the classics young, wrote polished prose, and earned nomination as flourishing talent.〉 As a boy he followed a kinsman into refuge in the far south and read under Liu Xi. Once Shi Xie acknowledged Sun Quan’s overlordship he appointed Xue Zong captain of the household gentlemen (the title included the rank of general) and then named him governor of Hepu and Jiaozhi in succession.
7
西使
While the southern frontier was still being pacified, Xue Zong sailed with Inspector Lü Dai’s expeditionary force as far as Jiuzhen. After the campaign he came back to court as supervisor of the palace gate corps and vice director of the secretariat. At a state banquet the Shu envoy Zhang Feng punned viciously on Palace Writer Kan Ze’s name until Ze was speechless. Xue Zong, moving along the line with the wine ewer, stopped at Zhang Feng and asked, “Tell me—what is this ‘Shu’ of yours? He delivered the old character riddle: add the dog radical and the graph means “isolation”; strip it away and you have “Shu”—a creature with sidelong eyes, a bent torso, and a crawling thing in its gut.” 〈Pei Songzhi notes that manuscript copies of the riddle variously write the third phrase as gou shen or ju shen; since the couplet already speaks of “sideways eyes,” he judges ju shen the reading that preserves the pun.〉 Zhang Feng shot back, “Shall I dissect the character ‘Wu’ for you next?” Xue Zong answered instantly: “Remove the mouth and you read ‘heaven’; add the mouth and you read ‘Wu’—the ruler of myriad domains, the very seat of the Son of Heaven.” The hall roared with laughter while Zhang Feng could find no reply. His wit was always as quick and sure as that. 〈The Jiangbiao zhuan tells how Fei Yi of Shu, on embassy to Wu, mounted the dais with the full Wu court in attendance. Late in the feast Fei Yi and Zhuge Ke traded barbed compliments about their two states. Fei Yi opened with, “How would you parse the graph for ‘Shu’?” Ke answered, “With water it is zhuo, 'murky'; without water it is Shu. Same punch line as before: slanted eyes, a crooked carcass, and a bug in the belly.” Fei pressed him: “And the graph for ‘Wu’?” Ke replied, “Lose the mouth and you read ‘heaven’; add it back and you read ‘Wu’—the realm that fronts on the boundless sea, the Son of Heaven’s own capital.” The wording differs slightly from the version preserved in this biography.〉 When Lü Dai was recalled from the south, Xue Zong feared a bad successor and drafted a long memorial that began:
8
使使 使
Ancient Shun toured the south and died at Cangwu. The Qin organized Guilin, Nanhai, and Xiang commanderies, so that southern belt has owed allegiance to the center since high antiquity. Zhao Tuo built his power at Panyu and cowed the Yue chieftains; the country beyond the Pearl River begins there. Han Wudi crushed Lü Jia, carved nine commanderies from the land, and posted an inspector to watch over them. Rugged terrain and alien tongues mean everything must pass through chains of interpreters. The natives once lived almost like animals—no respect for age, topknots and bare feet, tattooed foreheads and left-lapped robes—so that even when the Han posted magistrates they barely registered. Later exiles from the interior were settled among them, taught a little script and speech, and linked by courier routes to court culture. Governors such as Xi Guang in Jiaozhi and Ren Yan in Jiuzhen introduced plow oxen, hats, and shoes. They set up marriage brokers so that weddings followed ritual rather than impulse. They opened schools and drilled the people in the classics. For the four centuries since, something like civilization has taken root. When I first reached the coast I found that in Zhuya, outside the few registered county marriages, every household had to file rosters in the eighth month; at the festival fair young people paired off with whomever they chose, and families could not interfere.
9
使 忿
In Miling and Dulang counties a younger brother inherited his elder brother’s widow by custom, and weak officials simply looked the other way. In that commandery men and women mingled naked in public without a blush. By central standards they behaved like beasts—yet they still possessed human faces. The region is vast, the population large, the jungles venomous and the paths treacherous—easy to revolt and hard to govern. Imperial policy therefore governs them lightly—enough awe to keep the peace, modest land taxes, while the real profit lies in pearls, incense, ivory, horn, tortoiseshell, coral, glass, parrots, kingfisher plumes, peacocks, and other curios for the palace workshops rather than in squeezing the fields for grain. Because the region lies beyond the Nine Provinces, appointments there have seldom been vetted with care. Under the lax Han code many governors ran wild, which is why the south rose again and again. Zhuya was struck from the rolls after an official shaved women’s hair to sell as wigs—an outrage that sparked revolt. I myself saw Huang Gai of Nanhai, posted to Rinan, beat his chief clerk to death over a stingy welcome banquet and get chased out by the locals. Dan Meng of Jiuzhen threw a banquet for his father-in-law Zhou Jing and the senior staff; the wine flowed and musicians played. When the merit clerk Fan Xin tried to pull Zhou Jing into a round dance and Zhou refused, Fan kept badgering him until Governor Dan Meng caned Fan to death on the spot. Fan Xin’s brother Fan Miao then stormed the yamen with archers and riddled Dan Meng with poisoned bolts. Shi Xie of Jiaozhi sent troops to punish the mutineers but could not break them. Earlier Inspector Zhu Fu of Kuaiji packed the districts with hometown cronies like Yu Bao and Liu Yan, taxed a bushel of rice for every cheap yellow fish, and drove the people into the hills until bandit armies stormed every yamen. Zhu Fu fled offshore and died a wanderer. Zhang Jin of Nanyang feuded with Liu Biao, fielded too few men against too many, and wore his generals out with endless campaigns until they came and went as they pleased.
10
宿
Too weak to impose discipline, he was mocked, mutinied against, and finally killed. Lai Gong of Lingling, a kindly elder, understood nothing of realpolitik. Liu Biao then sent the brawler Wu Ju from Changsha to govern Cangwu. Wu Ju was a swaggering soldier who refused to defer to Lai Gong. The damaged line here probably recorded the exactions Wu Ju’s officers took from the people. A second lacuna likely meant that the two sides clashed again and again. They turned on each other in hatred, drove Lai Gong out, and demanded that Bu Zhi be sent to replace him. Zhang Jin’s old officers—men like Yi Liao and Qian Bo—were still numerous; Bu Zhi uprooted them one by one until order was restored, only to be recalled himself just as the reins tightened. Lü Dai’s arrival coincided with the Shi family’s rebellion in the south. Once the southern armies had pacified the region, the court replaced local strongmen, spelled out imperial law, and projected authority until every rank fell into line. The episode shows that the frontier really did need—and sometimes got—governors equal to the task. A border province demands an honest, able hand; out past the wilds, success or ruin weighs twice as heavy. Jiaozhou may look quiet on the map, but Gaoliang still shelters veteran outlaws. Nanhai, Cangwu, Yulin, and Zhuguan remain half-tamed—bandit nests that welcome every deserter from the law. If Lü Dai stays north, his successor must be a meticulous man who can tighten all eight southern commanderies and advance reform step by step (the lacuna likely read “to be able” to complete the previous clause) —whoever pacifies Gaoliang must be backed with real rank, given leverage, and held to results if the south is ever to heal. If you send merely average talent, someone who enforces the letter of routine statutes without imagination will let corruption spread until it becomes a chronic plague. The realm’s fate rides on these appointments; the choice deserves the closest scrutiny. I fear the capital may treat the posting as routine; I therefore presume to speak plainly in hope of widening Your Majesty’s counsel.
11
In Huanglong 3 Sun Lü, marquis of Jianchang, camped at Banzhou as general who guards the army and took Xue Zong as chief clerk—Zong ran day-to-day business abroad and tutored him with texts at home. After Sun Lü died, Xue Zong entered the secretariat as supervisor of public bandits and soon rose to vice director. Gongsun Yuan’s renewed defection so enraged Sun Quan that he meant to take the field himself. Xue Zong answered with a long memorial that opened:
12
洿 忿
The Son of Heaven is the pivot of every kingdom; all lives depend on his person. At court he multiplies gates and night watches; on campaign he clears roads and slows the train—all to keep catastrophe at bay and reassure the realm. Confucius once spoke bitterly of sailing away on a raft; Zilu brightened at the thought, only to be told he was not the man for such an errand. When Han Yuandi wanted to ride the war-barges, Xue Guangde offered to slit his own throat to stop the chariot wheels. Why? Wind and waves are the deadliest odds a sovereign can face. The proverb runs, “A prince’s son does not lounge under a risky cornice.” How much truer for the rider of ten thousand chariots? Liaodong is a barbarian backwater—no walls, no drill, arms that would not cut butter, command like a flock without a shepherd. Your edict is right: a strike would crush them. Yet the ground is poor, crops fail, and the people live in the saddle, drifting wherever pasture leads. Word of a host marching north will send them flying before you can fix a battle line—you may win only empty steppe. Empty grassland is the first reason the venture is hollow; second, the ocean between you and them is a wall of storms like Cape Chengshan—ships vanish in a squall’s blink; second, even Yao and Shun could not govern a deck in a typhoon, nor could Meng Ben’s brawn trim a sail— third, fog, brine, ship fever, and plague ship to ship—no fleet escapes the southern sea unscathed. Heaven marked you as sage to end turmoil and heal the folk; good omens pile up at home while the traitor in the north withers; pacify the heartland and Liaodong falls without a spear cast—only fold your hands and wait. Yet now you would spurn the sure path, brave the deadliest straits, shrug off the empire’s inner defenses, and vent a morning’s temper—a gamble the altars have never seen and one that keeps every minister sleepless and sick at heart. Check the thunder of your anger, choose the firm bridge over thin ice, and your servants will live secure—the realm will count itself blessed.
13
The court chorus joined Xue Zong’s plea, and Sun Quan gave up the expedition.
14
使滿
On the yichou day of the first month Sun Quan told Xue Zong to avoid stock phrases in the ancestral prayer; Zong improvised lines so brilliant that the court murmured approval. The emperor said, “Give me another couplet—two heads. And stretch the whole thing to three.” Zong offered two more prayers in fresh language, and everyone praised him. In Chiwu 3 he moved to head the bureau of appointments. Two years later he became junior tutor to the crown prince while keeping his personnel portfolio. 〈The Wu chronicle adds that when Sun Quan gave him a purple ribbon bag Xue Zong demurred as over-ranked; Quan answered that the young heir needed a scholar of his stature to teach letters and ritual—“who else should wear the colors of high enfeoffment?” Thus Xue Zong stood as the heir’s preceptor and chief talent scout—an office doubly honored.〉 He died in the spring of the sixth year of that reign. His literary remains—odes, rhapsodies, and essays gathered as Private Collation, plus his Five Clans Chart and Explaining the Two Capitals—ran to tens of thousands of characters and stayed in circulation.
15
His son Xue Xu became general who awes the south but took sick and died on the march home from Jiaozhi. 〈The Han-Jin chunqiu notes that under Sun Xiu, Xue Xu served as colonel of the household gentlemen of the five palaces and rode to Shu to buy horses. When he returned, Xiu asked him about the gains and losses of Shu’s government; he answered: “The ruler is dim yet knows no fault; ministers keep their persons to escape guilt; entering their court one hears no straight words; passing their fields the people all wear the look of famine. Swallows in the rafters,” he added, “nest and chirp while the chimney smolders—surely Shu is that heedless brood!”〉”
16
His younger son was Xue Ying.
17
綿綿 彿
My forebears served the Han for generations and rose into the palace bureaucracy. My father Xue Zong lived when the Liu house lost the mandate and the empire shattered. He found refuge in this happier south, clinging to life until Heaven turned his face toward the Wu court. First he was a landless client on the barbarian frontier; then the Grand Emperor of Wu raised him from the mire and showered favor. Summoned from obscurity, he shed commoner dress for silks, tally, and seal. From governor of Hepu at the ocean’s edge he entered the capital and climbed to the inner councils. A dead branch bloomed anew, a snapped thread respooled—riches he had never dared dream. Twice favored, he knew when to be content; twice crowned with office—junior tutor when the Eastern Palace was founded—his glory redoubled. The luminous heir-apparent, humble in supreme virtue, heaped rites and gifts upon him. Yet my father died with the dynasty’s debt to him still unpaid. I, meanest of men, and my brothers owe our very bodies to Xue Zong’s line. His courtyard lessons could not pierce my stubborn dullness. I could not inherit his statesmanship; I only wished to farm in peace. I never dreamed the sacred court would flood us again with grace. It remembered my father’s service, pitied his broken work, and lifted his sons with singular honors. My brother Xue Xu bore a general’s baton a thousand li from home—full panoply, drums and mail ringing. I, coarse and dim, was still shown the path my father walked—the hinge of men and policy. Again named tutor to the heir, I inherit favor I cannot repay—talent far short of my father’s, I stand ashamed. Your Qian virtue cherishes letters and mourns the dead minister, hoping to keep his seed alive. Yet how unlike him is this foolish son! I look from his old honors to my hollow self—who could bear the shame? I cannot. Night and day I turn on my mat: our house has piled up grace life after life—dead, I would tie the knot of gratitude; living, I would give my marrow—yet ash could not repay the debt.
18
谿谿
That year He Ding urged cutting the Sheng Creek channel between the Yangzi and Huai; Sun Hao put Xue Ying in charge of ten thousand laborers until boulders stalled the work. After Ying was demoted to colonel of the left at Wuchang, He Ding’s execution brought the canal scandal back to light—Hao jailed Ying and shipped him to Guangzhou. Right national historian Hua He answered with a memorial:
19
使 使 退
I have read that every sage-king kept scribes to set down deeds for posterity. Han’s Sima Qian and Ban Gu were geniuses of their age; their histories rank beside the classics. Great Wu took the mandate and planted its capital in the southern soil. Late in the Grand Emperor’s reign he set Ding Fu and Xiang Jun to drafting the Book of Wu. Neither man had a historian’s gift; their draft was not worth preserving. The Lesser Emperor later added Wei Yao, Zhou Zhao, Xue Ying, Liang Guang, and myself—five scholars—to comb the archives and assemble a full chronicle. Zhou Zhao and Liang Guang died early; Wei Yao fell to treason; Xue Ying was sent out as a general and then exiled for fault—the manuscript stalled and has still not been completed and memorialized. I am too shallow to do more than annotate for Xue Ying; if forced to compile, I would repeat Ding Fu’s failure and blot the Grand Emperor’s glory. Xue Ying’s erudition is vast and his prose the finest of our circle. Plenty of officials know the classics; almost none can narrate like he—hence my fear for the history itself. Let him finish the book and append it to the dynastic record—that is my plea. Once it is done I may die in a ditch without regret.
20
便 祿
Sun Hao recalled Xue Ying as left national historian. Soon after, Miao Yi of the same bureau—stubborn in principle—was slandered into the governorship of Hengyang. Summoned to account for his conduct, he filed a humble apology. Stopping to visit Xue Ying, he was accused of plotting; Yi went to jail in Guiyang while Ying was sent back to Guangzhou. Ying had not reached exile when the emperor recalled him to office. As Wu’s laws grew cruel and petty, Ying repeatedly urged lighter penalties and shorter labor levies to spare the people—some of it heeded. He rose to supernumerary household grandee.
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In Tianji 4, when the Jin commanders marched against Sun Hao, Hao sent surrender letters to Sima You, Wang Hun, and Wang Jun—Xue Ying drafted every line. At Luoyang he was received before other captives, named supernumerary gentleman cavalry attendant, and answered the Jin court’s questions with crisp logic. 〈Gan Bao’s Jin ji states: The Martial Emperor casually asked Ying, “What was the reason Sun Hao perished?” Xue Ying answered that when Sun Hao—already reduced to the surrendered “marquis who handed over his fate”—still ruled Wu, he surrounded himself with small men, lashed out with arbitrary penalties, and trusted neither his chief ministers nor his field commanders, so that everyone lived in dread and no one felt safe; the seeds of Wu’s fall lay there. Emperor Wu went on to ask which Wu scholars still living or dead had been worthy or wanting, and Ying gave him a candid report on each.〉 He died in Taikang 3 (282 CE). He left eight essays collected under the title New Discussions. 〈Wang Yin’s Jin shu adds that Xue Jian, courtesy Lingzhang, was austere and dignified, with the polish of a capital scholar rather than a southerner. He rose through the chief clerkships under the Jin chancellors of the Two Palaces. After Emperor Yuan took the throne, Xue Jian climbed step by step to governor of Danyang, palace attendant, and once more junior tutor to the heir. From Xue Zong to Xue Jian, three generations of the family tutored the crown prince.〉
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Author’s appraisal
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The historian’s verdict: Zhang Hong combined sound doctrine with principled judgment—a statesman the age could use; that Sun Ce ranked him just below Zhang Zhao was no accident. Yan Jun, Cheng Bing, and Kan Ze belonged to the best scholarly cohort of their time. Yan Jun’s refusal of high office to save an old friend marks him as a true elder in the best sense. Xue Zong’s erudition, judgment, and openness to counsel made him one of Wu’s ablest ministers. Xue Ying, carrying on his father’s historical work and example, lived up to the family tradition, yet he rose again and again under a brutal tyrant—something that would give any scrupulous observer pause.
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