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卷六十四 吳書十九 諸葛滕二孫濮陽傳

Volume 64: Book of Wu 19 - Biographies of Zhuge, Teng, the two Suns, and Puyang

Chapter 64 of 三國志 · Records of the Three Kingdoms
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Chapter 64
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1
Zhuge Ke
2
使 使使 使使 使 穿 使 殿 使 使 使 使
Zhuge Ke, styled Yuansun, was Zhuge Jin’s eldest son. He was already celebrated while still young. 〈The Jiang Biao Zhuan records that even as a boy Ke was famed for ability: his words were ornate, his mind unusually sharp, and in disputation he met every challenge—no one could best him. When Sun Quan met him, he was struck by his gifts and told Zhuge Jin, “They were right: fine jade does come from Lantian.” The Wu lu adds that he measured seven chi six cun, had thin beard and brows, a prominent nose-bridge and wide forehead, a big mouth, and a carrying voice.〉 After his capping he became Cavalry Commandant and, alongside Gu Tan and Zhang Xiu, attended Crown Prince Deng to expound the classics and arts; they were counted among the prince’s intimates. He was transferred from Palace Attendant to Left Assistant Commandant. His father Zhuge Jin had a famously long, donkey-like face. At a great court gathering Sun Quan had a donkey led in, a label hung on its long muzzle, and the words “Zhuge Ziyu” written on it. Ke knelt and said, “I beg leave to add two characters with the brush.” Sun Quan assented and handed him the brush. Ke wrote two more characters below so that it read “Zhuge Ziyu’s donkey.” The hall erupted in laughter, and the donkey was given to Ke. On another occasion Sun Quan asked him, “Which is the better man—your father or your uncle?” “My father,” Ke replied at once. Sun Quan asked why he said so. “Because my father understands whom to serve, and my uncle does not—that is why I call him the better man.” Sun Quan laughed until he cried. He told Ke to pour for the company; when Ke reached Zhang Zhao, the old minister was already tipsy and would not touch his cup. “This,” Zhao protested, “is hardly how one honors age.” Sun Quan said to Ke, “If you can leave Lord Zhang without an answer, you may drink.” Ke turned on him: “Grand Tutor Lü Shang was ninety when he took command of the army—he had not yet ‘retired’ then. In war you hang back; at the feast you are first at the cup—where is the slight to venerable age?” Zhang Zhao had no comeback and emptied his goblet after all. Later, at a banquet with Shu envoys present, Sun Quan told the messenger, “Zhuge Ke loves a good mount; ask your chancellor to send him some worthy horses.” Ke rose to bow his thanks. “The horses are not even here,” said Sun Quan; “why the gratitude already?” “Shu is Your Majesty’s outer stud,” Ke answered; “once your gracious word goes west, the horses will follow—how could I not thank you?” His wit was as quick as that in every anecdote above. 〈The separate biography of Ke relates that when Sun Quan feasted Fei Yi of Shu, he secretly told his officials, “Stay seated over your food when the envoy enters.” Fei Yi came in; Sun Quan set down his chopsticks, yet none of the ministers stood. Fei Yi quipped, “Where the phoenix lands and the unicorn ‘spits its food,’ mules and donkeys simply go on munching, heads down, none the wiser.” Ke shot back, “We planted the wutong to court the phoenix—what business have common sparrows claiming they ‘come in state’? Someone ought to string a bow and drive them home to their nests.” Fei Yi laid aside a wheat cake, borrowed a brush, and wrote an “Ode to Wheat”; Ke borrowed a brush too and answered with an “Ode to the Millstone,” to general applause. Sun Quan teased him another time: “What have you been doing for pleasure—you look sleeker than ever.” “They say riches polish a hall and virtue polishes the man,” said Ke; “I am not amusing myself—I am only trying to improve.” “How do you measure against Teng Yin?” Sun Quan went on. “For mounting the steps and minding small decorum,” Ke said, “I am no match for Teng Yin; but for spinning plans behind the curtain, Teng Yin is no match for me.” On one occasion Ke presented a horse to the throne after first notching its ears. Fan Shen, who was there, needled him: “A horse is a noble creature, heaven’s gift; to maim its ears—does that not wound humaneness?” Ke retorted, “Mothers love their daughters dearly, yet they bore their ears for pearls—where is the harm to humaneness in that?” The crown prince once joked, “Someone ought to feed Zhuge Yuansun horse droppings.” “Then let His Highness dine on eggs,” said Ke. Sun Quan asked, “He told you to eat dung; why do you tell him to eat eggs?” “They come from the same place,” Ke replied evenly. The emperor roared with laughter. The Jiang Biao Zhuan says: Once a white-headed bird perched before the hall, and Sun Quan said, “What bird is this?” “A white-headed wagtail,” said Ke—the name is a pun on “white-haired old man.” Zhang Zhao, eldest in the company, thought himself the butt of the joke and said, “Ke is fooling Your Majesty—there is no such bird; let him produce a ‘white-headed mother’ if he can.” “There is a ‘mother parrot’ without any sure ‘father parrot,’” Ke answered; “shall we ask Lord Fuwu to fetch a ‘parrot father’?” Zhang Zhao had no answer, and the whole hall rocked with laughter.〉 So impressed was Sun Quan that he decided to test Ke with real duty and put him in charge of the Controller’s office. That office handled army grain and endless paperwork—work Ke found uncongenial. 〈The Jiang Biao Zhuan notes that when Sun Quan became King of Wu he created the Controller post for grain supply—something the Han never had. The first holder had been Palace Attendant Xu Xiang; when Xu died, Ke was slated to succeed him. Zhuge Liang, learning that Ke would take the post, wrote Lu Xun: “My brother is old, and Ke is careless by nature; grain is the army’s lifeblood—though I am far off, I am privately uneasy at his managing it. Please speak to the sovereign for me and have him reassigned.” Lu Xun relayed the plea, and Sun Quan immediately moved Ke to a field command.〉
3
宿 使
Ke argued that Danyang’s mountains bred a tough, warlike people: past expeditions had cleared only the lowland towns, never the heartland. The deep hills remained beyond reach; he therefore begged again and again to be sent in person to dig them out. He promised forty thousand armored men within three years. Court opinion ran: “Danyang is a maze of ridges touching Wu, Kuaiji, Xindu, and Poyang across thousands of li; its hidden dwellers never see a yamen or a magistrate—they live and die armed in the hills. Fugitives and hardened bandits alike fled into those fastnesses. The hills yield copper and iron, so they forge their own arms. They love fighting and prize brute strength; they scale cliffs and charge thickets like fish diving for the deeps or apes vaulting through the canopy. They watch for slack moments to raid the lowlands, and whenever armies march in, they melt away to secret lairs. They swarm like bees when you fight and vanish like birds when you lose—no dynasty has ever truly tamed them.” Everyone called the scheme impracticable. When Zhuge Jin heard the plan, he judged it beyond success and sighed, “This boy will either make our house or ruin our whole clan.” Ke only pressed his certainty of success all the harder. Sun Quan named him General Who Pacifies Zhao, Governor of Danyang, and assigned him three hundred halberd guards. After the audience Sun Quan had him escorted home with full music and panoply of honor; Ke was thirty-two. Once installed at his seat, he wrote to every district magistrate under the four circuits. Each was to hold his border, drill his companies, and move compliant commoners into guarded settlements. He spread his officers through the defiles with palisades but no pitched battles, then sent parties to strip the mountain fields whenever the grain ripened, leaving nothing to harvest. When the old stores were gone and the new crop never came in, the hill folk starved and drifted down in twos and threes to yield. Ke then issued orders again, saying, “Mountain people who cast off evil and follow civilization must all be comforted and resettled in outer counties; none may harbor suspicions or seize and bind them.” Hu Kang, magistrate of Jiuyang, bound a new surrender named Zhou Yi—a known villain who meant to rebel—and sent him up to headquarters. Ke judged that a breach of his order and had Hu Kang executed as a warning, then reported the matter in a memorial. When the hill people learned that Hu Kang died merely for seizing a surrender, they understood the government only wanted them out; whole villages came down, and within a year the tallies matched Ke’s original pledge. Ke himself commanded ten thousand men and parceled the rest among his generals.
4
Delighted with the result, Sun Quan sent Vice Director Xue Zong of the Secretariat to commend the troops. Xue Zong first addressed Ke and his officers in a written message:
5
西 稿
For ages the Shanyue have defied the throne from their strongholds—pamper them and they dither; corner them and they wheel like wolves. The sovereign’s wrath flashed like lightning; generals marched west while secret stratagems were hatched within and armies thundered on every border. Blades never tasted blood; corselets never ran with sweat—a bloodless triumph. The ringleaders lost their heads, their followers sued for peace, the hills were swept clean, and a hundred thousand fighters were delivered to the rolls. The countryside is clear of raiders; the towns hold no lurking traitors. You have purged evil and at the same time stocked the camps. Thorns and weeds have turned into good grazing ground. Forest demons have been forged into crack troops. Credit belongs to Heaven’s favor on the dynasty, yet it is no less the fruit of a field commander who went among the rocks himself. The Odes may hymn “bringing prisoners,” the Changes may bless “striking the chief,” yet even Fang and Shao of Zhou or Wei Qing and Huo Qubing of Han scarcely bear comparison. Your achievement outruns the ancients; your fame eclipses former generations. The throne rejoices and, though miles away, murmurs praise. He thinks of the “Four Steeds” ode and longs to feast you by the old “victory cup” rite. So he dispatches an intimate minister from the central secretariat with grain largesse and gifts—to crown your merit and soothe your weary hosts.
6
Zhuge Ke was promoted to General Who Awes the North and given the village-marquisate of Duxiang. He asked to colonize the fields at Wan Mouth in Lujiang, then strike Shu with a flying column, scoop up the people, and retire before Wei could react. He pushed scouts deeper to map approaches toward Shouchun, but the sovereign forbade the gamble.
7
In the Chiwu years Sima Yi of Wei laid plans to crush Zhuge Ke. Wu was mobilizing to meet the threat when court diviners called the stars hostile, so Ke’s corps was redeployed to Chaisang. He sent Chancellor Lu Xun a letter that ran:
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使 便 使
Yang Jingshu’s essay repeats the “pure conversation” line that talent has thinned to nothing and men of principle must lean on one another. They should lock shields—advance the kingdom upstairs and watch each other’s backs downstairs. He hated how fashionable spite chips cracks into men already shaped for office. Men on the verge of advance heard him and sighed, secretly applauding every beat. A gentleman does not ask one man for perfection: Confucius taught nearly three thousand, yet only seventy-two stood out. Among the seventy luminaries next to the Sage, Zizhang was reckless, Zilu blunt, Zigong headstrong—if they fell short, who beneath them does not? Confucius never dismissed Gongxi Zihua for lacking polish; he prized gifts and forgave faults. Today’s recruitment must be broader than the ancients’—why? The age twists every which way and worthy men are scarce; every ministry runs short-handed. Whoever is honest and eager to serve should be lifted up and tried at the post that suits him. Small lapses in manners or private life should slide—do not haul men over the coals for trivia. Perfectionism would indict even sages; how shall middling talents escape it? So the proverb runs: judge by the Way and no one passes; judge as men and merit shows plain. Since Han fell, salon critics like Xu Shao slandered each other into ruin—consider where that began. They were not mortal enemies—only hypocrites who failed the rites themselves yet preached righteousness at others. Fault yourself before the rites and men withhold respect. Hammer others with moral absolutes and they break. They resent your example and your lecture alike—bad blood follows. Give spite a lifetime and sneak thieves slip between you. Then “third-hearing” lies and slow-poison gossip pile up together. Even the keenest eye and dearest blood tie cannot steady such storms. How much worse once the breach is open and neither side sees straight? So Zhang Er and Chen Yu drew steel; Xiao Wangzhi and Zhu Bo parted—for no deeper cause than this. Nurse every nick and soon whole clans feud—no court then holds an intact gentleman.
9
Knowing Lu Xun suspected him, Ke spun out this argument to echo Lu’s own plea for tolerance. Lu Xun’s death vaulted Ke to Grand General with battle authority at Wuchang, inheriting the western theater.
10
便
When age and illness gripped Sun Quan while the crown prince remained a boy, he recalled Ke as Grand General and tutor to the heir, pairing him with Sun Hong as junior tutor. On his deathbed he called Ke, Hong, Teng Yin, Lü Ju, and Sun Jun to settle the succession. 〈The Wu shu records that as the emperor sickened, ministers wrangled over the regency. All eyes fell on Ke; Sun Jun alone filed a memorial that Ke could shoulder the regency. Quan hesitated—Ke was harsh and headstrong—but Jun insisted no present minister surpassed him and talked the sovereign round. He drew them to his bedside and said from the pallet, “I am dying; we may not speak again—everything rests with you.” Ke sobbed and wept, saying, “We have all received overwhelming grace and shall obey the edict unto death; may Your Majesty calm your spirit and ease your cares—think no more of outward matters.” Ordinance followed: all routine went to Ke; capital sentences alone reached the palace. They raised him a residence ringed by household troops. Every agency received scripted ritual for greeting the regent. Awkward laws went up on Ke’s list and Quan rubber-stamped the fixes. Court and countryside breathed relief—hope after dread.〉
11
Sun Quan died the following dawn. Sun Hong, Ke’s enemy, hid the death and drafted a false order to purge him. Sun Jun tipped Ke; Ke invited Hong to council and cut him down mid-meeting, then proclaimed the obsequies. He wrote his brother Zhuge Rong, defender of Gongan:
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姿
The sixteenth, day yiwei—the Great Late Emperor has left the realm; every rank weeps. Our house bore a debt beyond ordinary subjects; the blow tears out our vitals. On the dingyou day the crown prince ascended the throne; grief and elation warred until no one knew how to stand. The dying sovereign named me regent over a child ruler; I weigh myself against the burden. I am no Huo Guang, yet I carry the Duke of Zhou’s yellow-chart mandate; I dread failing the standard Zhuge Liang set when he steadied Shu. I dread staining his clear-eyed choice—so shame and fear swarm ten thousand ways. The mob always eyes the throne with suspicion—when does governing turn easy? A dull man holds the heir’s tutorship—danger thick, counsel thin—who stands my partner? Later Han watched Prince Liu Dan of Yan intrigue with Princess Gai until revolt boiled—the Shangguan crisis all over again; in such an hour who could rest easy? Your sector teeth into Wei—you must drill arms, rouse men, watch harder than common duty, pledge ten thousand deaths for one life of service, pay the dynasty, honor the clan. Each commander guards a beat—yet Wei may hear our grief and raid. County staff are warned: no colonel may bolt his wall and race to the capital. Personal sorrow must yield—Bo Qin marched against the Rong though his heart tore; defiance would be grave crime. The ancients warned: kinship must mend division.
13
They elevated Ke to Grand Tutor. He killed informers, shelved spies, forgave arrears, lifted tolls—the reign ran on mercy and the realm sang. Every outing drew crowds straining for a sight of him.
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使 使西西西
December’s win went to his head; come spring he hungered for another campaign. 〈The Han Jin Chunqiu records Ke dispatching Li Heng to Jiang Wei: “Even sages cannot summon their moment—but they must seize it when it arrives. Wei’s cords lie in cabals; court and camp mistrust each other; armies lose abroad, peasants curse within—never since Cao Cao has ruin stared so plain. A two-front storm—Wu on the east, Shu on the west—must overstretch them; veteran hosts hitting thin lines cannot lose.” Jiang Wei agreed.〉 The council protested in one voice that serial campaigns broke men; Ke brushed them off. Jiang Yan, gentleman attendant, argued until guards hustled him away. Ke answered with a manifesto:
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使 西 使 使 歿
Two suns cannot share the sky; two kings cannot share the soil—no emperor ever secured his line without conquering all beneath it. Warring States princes trusted mutual rescue and vast domains to live forever safe. They lounged while Qin grew—then swallowed them whole. Liu Biao once held Jingzhou—hosts in six figures, granaries like mountains. He refused to strike Cao while Cao was small, watched him crush the Yuans and pacify the north—then three hundred thousand Wei troops rolled south; even clever advisers could plot nothing; Biao’s sons surrendered shackled. States that would eat each other are feuds that must be killed—feed your foe and your heirs pay. Wu Zixu warned: “Ten years Yue breeds men, ten years schools them—twenty years on, Wu becomes swamp!” Fucha trusted strength, sneered, slew Zixu, ignored Yue—too late he repented at the water’s edge. Lesser Yue ruined Wu—what of a stronger foe? Classic Qin held only the western march yet devoured six states; Wei now owns Guanzhong and the Zhao-Han-Wei-Yan-Qi heartland—nine provinces of cavaliers and lettered men. Wei beside classic Qin spans several times the ground. Wu and Shu together are not half that footprint. We endure because Cao’s cohort died off and boys still train—the enemy trough before the crest. Sima Yi slew Wang Ling then died; weak sons hold supreme command—brains stay bottled. Strike now and you hit the hinge moment. The sage races time—I say that hour is today. Follow the crowd, cling to false peace, trust the Long River as eternal shield— —ignore Wei’s arc yet shrug at tomorrow— that is why I groan aloud. Since dynastic founding we bred people; Wei’s peasants swell each year—they are young but not yet spear fodder. Another decade doubles their ranks while our crack districts hollow—only today’s soldiers can decide it. Idle them till old age and ten years cuts our hosts in half while heirs thin to nothing. Double them and halve us—even Yi Yin and Guan Zhong could not save us. Short thinkers will call this preachy. Worry before disaster looks foolish—crowds always sneer. Disaster lands and they beat their brows—too late for even wise heads. That folly spans every age—not ours alone. Wu once mocked Wu Zixu as alarmist—when doom came there was no remedy. Liu Biao never looked past the decade—so he left no shelter for his heirs. I lack common bureaucratic polish yet carry a Xiao-Huo burden for Wu; my wit is ordinary—if I fail to widen our borders now, old age will creep in while enemies swell. Would slitting my throat then undo the stain? Some plead poverty and urge repose—they fret over small fatigue while ignoring existential peril. Gaozu held Guanzhong—why not bolt Hangu and feast? He chose war: wounds, lice in his armor, troops pushed past endurance—not because they loved steel over peace. They knew two dragons cannot share one pool. Each time I read Jing Han’s brief to Gongsun Shu or my uncle’s essay on tackling Wei, I groan with recognition. These worries cost me sleep—so I sketch this crude plea for you few who judge. If I die before the plan is laid, let posterity read my fear and learn.
16
Courtiers saw the manifesto as a rubber stamp for war—and none spoke against him twice.
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Nie You of Danyang was an old friend of Ke. He warned Ke in a letter: “Your late lord meant to block Wei at Dongguan—that scheme never launched. You now steward the realm—finish what he began. The enemy walks into our fist; your army fights confident—one lightning strike could bless temple and state. Bide: rest the troops, hone steel, move only when heaven opens a seam. Another giant march now—the omens say no. Yield to stubborn pride and I tremble for you." Ke appended his tract and answered: “You speak prudence but miss the grand calculus. Read my paper twice—you will see.” He marched against every voice and drafted two hundred thousand—panic spread and goodwill snapped.
18
忿 忿
He meant to thunder across Huainan and herd Wei civilians as booty. His officers said: “Drive inland and every farmer flees—toil without loot; ring Xincheng instead. Siege Xincheng and relief columns will come—cut those and the harvest is rich.” Ke agreed, swung about, and threw trenches around Xincheng. Month on month the walls stood. Heat and foul water brought dysentery and dropsy—half the host sick, corpses strewn like cordwood. Daily sick lists drew his suspicion of malingering—after one death threat silence fell. He knew he had blundered yet could not bear the insult of stalled siege—wrath carved his brow. Zhu Yi criticized him—Ke seized his troops on the spot. Cai Lin pled tactics in vain—he bolted to Wei. Wei saw Wu wilting and threw in reinforcements. Ke broke camp and withdrew. The retreat was a trail of cripples—some dropped in gullies, some were captured; groans followed Ke home. Ke himself looked unruffled. He camped a month on the Yangzi flats, mumbling about reclamation at Xunyang while summons stacked—then drifted homeward. Hope curdled into open hatred.
19
宿
That eighth month he marched home with full panoply into his regency hall. He hauled in Sun Hei and snarled, “Who authorized these endless edicts?” Sun Hei bolted, then claimed sickness and hid. Every official picked while he was gone was purged and replaced; audiences became gauntlets of terror. The inner guard was swapped for his creatures. He mobilized anew—eyes on Huangzhou and Xuzhou.
20
Sun Jun rode the hatred, whispered coup to Liang, and baited Ke with a banquet. The eve of the feast his nerves jangled—no sleep. Wash water smelled of gore; fresh robes brought the same stench. New water, new silk—the rot persisted—unease gnawed him. As he left for court his dog gripped his sleeve—“Do you bar my road?” he asked. He sat, rose—the dog pulled again; servants chased it off and he rolled toward the palace.
21
使 殿 使 便 殿 使 便 殿
Before the Huainan march a man in mourning drifted into his hall—“I wandered in unaware,” he said under questioning. Guards saw nothing—everyone called it an omen. Once he left, the main hall ridgebeam cracked. A white arc bridged his ship at Dongxing; another haloed his carriage at imperial tombs. At the palace gate Jun—troops already hidden—stepped out lest Ke turn back: “If you are ill, delay; I will explain to the throne.” He was sounding Ke’s nerve. “I will attend,” Ke said. Zhang Yue and Zhu En slipped a note: “Something is wrong with tonight’s layout.” Ke skimmed it and still walked in. Outside he met Teng Yin—“Stomach cramps—I should turn back,” Ke claimed. Yin, ignorant of the trap, urged him: “The boy emperor waits with wine—you are at the door—go.” He wavered, then climbed the steps armed—a privilege few enjoyed. He bowed to Sun Liang and sat. Jun saw him hesitate: “Take your usual tonic wine—bring what you trust.” Reassured, he sipped only his private flask. 〈Wu li records the warning memo; Teng Yin begged retreat—“Jun is nothing,” Ke sneered. Worst case—spiked cups.” So he entered carrying his drug wine. Sun Sheng: Ke trusted Yin, not the warners—a coup deserved joint counsel. Ke bullied Jun and trusted himself—would one soft word from Yin send him into the trap? The Wu li version rings true.〉 Mid-feast Liang slipped away; Jun returned in short jacket—“Arrest Zhuge Ke—by imperial order!” 〈Wu lu: Jun waved steel—Liang cried, “Not my doing! Not my doing!" Nurses hustled the boy emperor inside. Wu li says Jun hid Liang first, then announced the warrant. That agrees with this biography. Pei Songzhi: a staged edict should match the main text and Wu li, not Wu lu.〉 Ke leapt—steel met him before his sword cleared. Zhang Yue chopped Jun’s left hand—Jun wheeled and took his sword arm. Guards stormed in—“Only Ke—he is dead. Blades went home; blood was mopped and cups refilled. 〈The Sou shen ji says: After Ke entered he was slain; his wife indoors asked her maid, “Why this stench of blood?” “There is none,” said the girl. The smell thickened—“Why do your eyes roll?” she pressed. The maid convulsed to the beams—“Sun Jun killed Zhuge Ke!” The household understood—troops hammered the gate next. Zhi lin records Quan’s deathbed summons of Ke. Marshal Lü Dai saw him off: “Think ten times on each step.” Ke quoted Confucius—“Twice is enough”—“Ten times insults my wit.” Lü Dai stood mute—onlookers jeered his silence. Yu Xi: regency is the heaviest trust—few bear throne and sword together. Without humble ears open to every voice, fame founders. Lü Dai was veteran sage—his “think ten times” was rope thrown to a drowning man; Ke sneered—clever tongue, hollow nerve. Had he listened like lightning—would he lie headless to Jun’s knife? Crowds praise Ke’s wit and laugh at Lü—but eloquence without judgment is savoring blossom while ignoring harvest. Wei struck Shu—Fei Yi, burdened with command, played go with Lai Min amid flying orders. Lai Min left saying, “You will break them.” He read calm as settled strategy—the gentleman fears, then wins by plotting. Tiny Shu faced giant Wei—how boast ease with survival at stake? His loose temper missed fine hazard—so Guo Xiu the turncoat cut him down—warning ignored, blade earned. Yu Xi pairs Zhuge Ke’s barb at Lü Dai with an older spat—both cautionary tales worth preserving.〉
22
A street rhyme foretold Ke: reed mat, hemp coat, belt-hooks dangling—seek him at “Chengzi Pavilion.” Flip the syllables—“Chengzi” hides Shizi Gang. Facing Jianye stands the burial mound Shizi Gang—Wu’s potter’s field. The hooks mean fancy belt fittings commoners called “hook-lattice” straps. They wound him in reed mat and bamboo cord and dumped him on Shizi Gang. 〈Wu lu notes Ke died at fifty-one.〉 Eldest son Zhuge Chuo, tied to the Lu prince scandal, was handed back to Ke for discipline—Ke murdered him with poisoned wine. His middle son Zhuge Song held the colonelcy on the Long River. Youngest Zhuge Jian commanded camp foot soldiers. His household carted the mother away at news of the coup. Sun Jun’s riders ran Ke’s fleeing son down at Baidu and killed him. Jian made the river but Wei caught him a thousand li north. Nephew Zhang Zhen of Duxiang and Zhu En died with their kin to the third degree.
23
Zhuge Song had warned his brother again and again—terror followed silence. Zang Jun of Linhuai then petitioned for decent burial:
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殿 使 使
Thunderclaps end; hurricanes taper—even heaven moderates rage. Storms give way to soaking rain—so should a throne ease after wrath. I risk my neck to beg that mercy. The Zhuges served three kingdoms with loyal sweat—Ke inherited that fire. Ke grew up at court, served honorably, then took regency meant for Yi Yin or the Duke of Zhou. He seized law, burned treasure and men on vain wars, ruled by terror. Sun Jun, testament guardian and guard general, struck Ke down in the throne hall and hailed it as salvation for temple and throne. Ke’s fall drew cheers—soldiers called it heaven’s verdict. Three heads rotted on public display while crowds jeered. State terror teaches every age. Yesterday’s idol is today’s carrion—pity follows spite. Corpses need no further desecration. Grant plain wood armor and a thin coffin—rage enough. Gaozu buried enemies with honor—so should Wu. Mercy to the executed advertises virtue empire-wide. Luan Bu acted without imperial OK—I condemn his arrogance. I seal this plea—not for spectacle but for mercy.
25
The regents let old aides recover Ke from Shizi Gang. 〈Some wanted a monument—Doctor Sheng Chong refused. Sun Xiu judged: “Summer war without gain is not skill; to die regent at a stripling’s blade is not wisdom. Sheng Chong had the right of it." The stele died unraised.〉
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退 使 使
Nie You saw doom in Ke’s retreat. He wrote Teng Yin: “While a man towers mountains and rivers may yield—once strength shrinks human moods multiply ten thousand ways—speech turns to lament.” Jun hated Nie You and tried to exile him to Yulin. Nie You worried himself to death. Nie You (Wendi), from Yuzhang. 〈Wu lu calls him glib—started as county clerk. Yu Fan spotted his wit en route to exile and recommended him to Xie Fei. The commandery then lacked a Clerk of Merit—when Fei met him he asked, “County clerk Nie You—which office fits?” “Barely fit for a bureau aide,” came reply. “Men say merit clerk—step aside,” Fei ordered. Nie You became merit clerk. At the capital Ke made him a confidant. Fashion ranked Gu Tan cousins supreme—Ke slid Nie between them for reputation. He led the Dan’er expedition, ruled Danyang, died at thirty-three.〉
27
Zhuge Ke prepared another full-scale strike on Wei. Yin remonstrated Ke: “You amid succession crisis accepted Yi-Huo trust—within you steadied court, without broke mighty foes—fame thundered within the seas so none failed to tremble—myriad households hoped to lean on you and catch breath. Fresh from exhaustion you march—foe waits fresh. Fail twice and you buy shame not glory. Cool your spears—wait for a seam. War needs popular heart—can you ride hatred?” Ke said, “All who cry impossible lack reckoning and hug hearth ease—you echo them—what hope remains? Wei’s boy emperor drools while regents feud—ripe rot within. Give me our surplus and last win—where is steel we cannot pierce?” He left Yin to govern the capital rear. Teng Yin lived at desk and gate—nights without sleep. 〈Wu shu praises his hands-on paperwork.〉
28
使
Year two: Jian and Qin rose at Lejia; Sun Jun struck toward Shouchun with Lü Ju and Liu Zan—Qin collapsed and Wu marched home. 〈Wu shu: Liu Zan (Zhengming) of Changshan. As clerk he beheaded Turban chief Wu Huan hand-to-hand. A spear lame left his foot frozen bent. Yet nature fierce—he loved reading military works and the Three Histories—whenever scanning ancient champions’ battles he sighed alone over the text then called kin near: “All-under-Heaven is chaos—heroes rise together—scanning former ages wealth and honor favor no fixed men—yet I hobble alley-bound—life or death no different. Cut the sinew—straight foot or death.” Family forbade the knife. He sawed his tendons—blood flood—fainted. Kin splinted the leg straight. Healed, he limped to battle. Ling Tong sponsored him into service. Campaigns raised him to Garrison Cavalry colonel. He spoke truth Sun Quan disliked. Van at Dongxing—first through Wei lines—left general. Jun’s Huainan march made him credentialed left guard. Sick short of Shouchun—he convoyed supplies homeward. Jiang Ban chased with four thousand. Zan, sick and trapped, could not form ranks—knowing sure defeat he unfastened canopy seals and ribbons handing them to disciples to carry home, saying, “I have been general—breaking foes seizing banners—never tasted defeat. Joint death gifts Wei—run.” He threatened disciples until they ran. His battle ritual: hair down, hymn to sky, then charge—undefeated. “This is heaven—not tactics,” he said at the end. He died at seventy-three—Wu wept. Sons Lüe and Ping rose to high command.〉 During Shu’s embassy Sun Yi, Sun Shao, Sun Xun and allies plotted Jun’s murder at the feast. They were exposed—dozens suicided—Princess Lu Yu among them.
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使
Jun dreamed of fortifying Guangling—ministers stayed mute in fear. Yin alone protested—the mad wall died unfinished. Year after, Qin talked Jun into another thrust—hosts left Jiangdu for Qing-Xu. At Stone Citadel Jun played farewell—then pushed into Lü Ju’s lines with a hundred guard. Ju’s crisp drill spooked Jun—he fled feigning chest pain. Nightmares of Ke—Jun died at thirty-eight—passed power to Sun Lin.
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使 使使使 使 使 宿
Sun Lin (Zitong)—Jun’s cousin. Father Sun Chuo held pacification command. Major to regent—Jun’s death made Lin armed chamberlain of all hosts. Lü Ju petitioned Yin as chancellor—Lin banished Yin to Grand Marshal at Wuchang instead. Lü Ju reversed course and urged Teng Yin to sack Sun Lin together. Lin bottled Ju at Jiangdu while envoys pressured Yin; Yin held Hua Rong hostage, armed his household, and denounced Lin. Lin branded Yin traitor and threw Liu Cheng’s riders at his compound. He tried to fake an outbreak order through Hua Rong. When they balked he cut them down. 〈Literary tradition: Hua Rong (Derui) of Jiangdu. Ancestors fled war to Shanyin hills. Calligrapher Huang Xiang shared the hamlet—Zhang Wen studied there. Someone told Wen: “Below Ruirui Mountain dwells Hua Derui—young yet fine in aspiration—lodging may be had there.” Zhang Wen roomed with Hua Rong and talked night and day. When Zhang Wen ran appointments he lifted Hua Rong to tutor staff—fame followed. Son Hua Xu died beside him. Younger son Tan won Jin office as library chief.〉 Teng Yin faced death smiling. Some urged Yin to lead troops to Azure Dragon Gate—“when soldiers see Your Excellency emerge they will surely abandon Lin for you.” Midnight—Yin still waited for Lü Ju. He told his men Ju was close—hold the line—but Ju never came. Gale till dawn—no Ju. Sun Lin stormed in—slaughtered Yin’s clan to the third degree. 〈Pei Songzhi: Yin could have taken Wuchang and lived—instead he chose martyrdom.〉
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Sun Lin grabbed Yongning marquisate and swaggered. Sun Lü had backed Ke—Jun raised him to right general and inner-court fixer. Lin snubbed Sun Lü—Lü plotted with Wang Dun. Lin executed Wang Dun. Sun Lü swallowed poison.
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退 漿西 退 使
Zhuge Dan rebelled in Wei and offered Wu the city. Wu sent thirty thousand under Wen Qin and Quan brothers. Wang Ji tightened the Wei ring around Dan. Relief column punched out. Wei stacked two hundred thousand more on the siege. Zhu Yi camped at Ancheng to back Qin. Zhou Tai routed Zhu Yi—two thousand casualties. Sun Lin stacked fifty thousand under Zhu Yi at Huoli—supplies at Dulü. Zhu Yi tried night bridges and moon bastions west of camp. Shi Bao and Zhou Tai crushed the bridgehead. Zhu Yi shifted to wagon-wall tactics toward Wumu. Hu Lie torched Zhu Yi’s depot at Dulü. Sun Lin executed Zhu Yi for disobedience—sent Sun En forward. Dan’s fall ended the relief war. Wu blamed Lin for killing Zhu Yi and losing Dan.
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使宿 使 使宿 使 使 使祿
Boy emperor Liang asked hard questions—Lin panicked. He hid in private claiming sickness. Ringed the capital with brothers in every gate camp. Liang avenged Princess Lu Yu—executed Zhu Xiong brothers for Jun’s crimes. Liang allied with Ban, Quan Shang, Liu Cheng to kill Lin. The empress—Lin’s cousin—whispered to Lin. Lin struck Quan Shang—murdered Liu Cheng—surrounded the palace. 〈The Jiang Biao Zhuan states: Liang summoned Quan Shang’s son Gentleman at Yellow Gates Ji for secret counsel—“Sun Lin monopolizes power—belittles me—the orphan. He accused Lin of loafing on the lake. He cited Zhu Yi’s murder. Lin skipped court from his riverside villa. Pride unbearable. Plan: Quan Shang mobilizes—Liang leads guards at bridge. Forged order disbands Lin’s troops. Tell no one. Announce edict to your father—do not let your mother know—women grasp not great affairs—and Lin is cousin by hall—chance leak ruins me beyond measure.” Quan Shang told his wife anyway. She tipped Sun Lin. Lin struck first—palace under arms by dawn. Liang raged—mounted horse—belt quiver grasped bow intending exit—“I am Great Emperor’s heir son—five years on throne—who dares disobey?” Palace attendants and wet nurses together dragged him—could not exit—sighed two days without eating—reviled his wife—“Your father muddle-headed—ruined my great affair!” Again summoned Ji—Ji said—“My father failed edict—betrayed sovereign—no face to see again.” He killed himself. Sun Sheng doubts chronology—smart boy would not tell wife first. Pei accepts Jiang Biao leak narrative as fuller.〉 Ordered Superintendent of the Household Meng Zong announce temples deposing Liang—summoned gathered officers—“Young emperor wasteland-sick muddled mad—may not occupy great seat—carry ancestral temples—therefore announcing prior emperor’s temples—deposing him. If gentlemen harbor dissent—voice contrary below.” Silence of fear. They said—“Only the general’s command.” Lin seized seals and blackened Liang’s name. Huan Yi died refusing the coup paper. 〈Huan Yi was brother of Wei minister Huan Jie. Jin emperor later cited Huan Yi as Wu martyr.〉
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Shi Zheng talked Lin into king Huima—Sun Xiu. Sun Kai carried summons to Xiu:
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便 使
The indictment opens with Lin’s sham confession that he failed as regent. It lists Liang’s alleged novelty-building excesses. Charges dalliance with Liu Cheng and palace women. Monstrous catalog of Liang’s alleged orgies and toy navy. Claims Zhu heirs murdered princess—distorts truth. Blames Liang for Zhu executions without hearing Lin’s guilt. Court terrified into silence. Accuses toy fleet waste. Smears Quan clan treason. Claims Quan Shang spied for Wei. Announces staged arrests— date fixed. Deposes Liang to Kuaiji prince—sends escort for Xiu. Bureaucracy voiced obedience. They lined the route for new sovereign.
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Sun Lin’s peace gifts went to Zhang Bu—Xiu declined face-to-face. Wine heated—bitter words emerged—“When we utterly deposed young sovereign—many urged me take throne myself. Claims he chose Xiu for virtue. Emperor without me would not stand—now courtesy visit refused—no different from common minister—must scheme anew.” Zhang Bu warned Xiu—resentment seeded. Emperor Xiu feared Lin would bolt—showered honors and busywork to watch him. Xiu fed Lin a false informer—Lin killed him—proving brutality. Lin fled toward Wuchang with elite ten thousand—throne armed him freely. 〈Wu li: Xiu let Lin pick secretaries for Jingzhou staff.〉 General Wei Mi advised Xiu—“Lin abroad certain brings mutiny”—Palace guardsman Shi Shuo again reported—“Lin plots revolt with signs”—Xiu secretly questioned Zhang Bu—Bu with Ding Feng plotted banquet killing Lin.
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Sun Lin perished at twenty-eight. Emperor Xiu struck Sun Jun and Sun Lin from the imperial lineage—only “the late Jun” and “the late Lin” remained on the record. Xiu further issued edict: “Zhuge Ke, Teng Yin, and Lü Ju were innocent yet slaughtered by Jun and Lin brothers—utterly heartbreaking—hasten reburial for each with sacrifices. Those who suffered Ke affair and were banished afar—summon all back.”
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Puyang Xing
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Yongan 3: Yan Mi pitched the Puli reclamation on Danyang’s lakes. Ministers called the dyke a boondoggle—Puyang Xing alone swore it would pay. Corvée swelled—paymasters drowned—troops died in mutiny and accident—the delta cursed Xing’s name. Raised to chancellor, he teamed with Zhang Bu—Wu groaned at crony rule. Sun Xiu died in the seventh month of the seventh year of his era. Wan Yu talked Xing and Bu into skipping Xiu’s son for Sun Hao. Sun Hao bought loyalty with palace posts and a Qingzhou title. Wan Yu then whispered that both ministers regretted enthroning him. On the new moon Hao arrested them—marched them toward Guangzhou—had them killed en route—then wiped three degrees of kin.
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Section rubric: Appraisal
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Chen Shou: Wu admired Ke’s brilliance, but pride and deafness to counsel ruined him—a sage regent could scarcely have controlled such ego. Vanity and contempt for peers doom any minister. Had Ke practiced the humility he preached to Lu Xun and Zhuge Rong, he might have died in bed. Teng Yin’s rectitude could not save him once Jun turned butcher—virtue offered no armor. Sun Jun and Sun Lin were base plotters beneath serious debate. Puyang Xing stood at the helm yet peddled Wan Yu’s intrigue and Zhang Bu’s faction—his annihilation was earned.
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