Cao Cao could not answer and had to relinquish, but he took away Yang Biao’s office and banished him to his family estate in the country.
Indignant at Cao Cao’s tyranny, a certain official sent up a petition impeaching him for having removed a high-ranking minister of the state from office without the Emperor’s approval. Cao Cao’s angry reply to this was the arrest of the brave man and his execution, an act that terrified all the other officials and reduced them to silence.
At Cao Cao’s place, Cheng Yu advised him to take an even bolder step. He said, “Sir, your prestige is growing daily—why not seize the opportunity to take the throne?”
“There are still too many supporters of the court,” said Cao Cao. “I must be careful. I am going to propose a royal hunt to try to find out the best line to follow.”
The hunting expedition decided upon, his men got together swift horses, famous breeds of falcons, and pedigree hounds, and prepared bows and arrows in readiness. Moreover, a strong force of guards was mustered and positioned outside the city.
Then Cao Cao went in to propose the hunting expedition to the Emperor, who objected by saying that he feared it was an improper thing to do.
Cao Cao replied, “In ancient times rulers took four expeditions yearly, one at each of the four seasons in order to exhibit their military strength. Now that the whole country is in turmoil it would be wise to launch a hunting expedition to champion military training.”
The Emperor dared not argue with him so the full paraphernalia for an imperial hunt joined the expedition. He rode a saddled horse, carried an inlaid bow, and his quiver was filled with gold-tipped arrows. His chariot followed behind. The three brothers were in the imperial train, each with a bow and quiver. Each wore a breastplate inside his robe and held his special weapon, while their escort followed them. Cao Cao rode a dun-colored horse called Flying Lightning at the head of a huge procession.
The hunt took place in Xutian and the army deployed as guards around the hunting arena, which extended over some two hundred square li. Cao Cao rode almost side by side with the Emperor, following only at the close distance of a horse’ head. Behind them were all of Cao Cao’s trusted officers. The imperial officials, civil and military, lagged far behind, for who dared to press forward into the midst of Cao Cao’s partizans?
That day, when the Emperor reached the hunting ground, he saw his newly-found uncle respectfully bowing to him by the roadside.
“I would like to see you display your hunting skill, Uncle,” said the Emperor.
Liu Bei mounted his steed at once. Just then a hare emerged from the grass. Liu Bei shot and hit it with the first arrow. The Emperor applauded at this fine display of archery. Then he rode away over a slope. Suddenly, a deer broke out of the thicket. He shot three arrows at it but all missed.
“You try,” said the Emperor turning to Cao Cao.
“Lend me Your Majesty’s bow and arrows,” he replied, and taking the inlaid bow and the golden-barbed arrows, he pulled the bow and hit the deer in the shoulder at the first shot. It fell still in the grass.
Now the crowd of officers, seeing the golden-barbed arrow sticking in the wound, concluded at once that the shot was the Emperor’s, so they rushed up, shouting “Long live the Emperor!” Cao Cao rode out, pushing past the Emperor, and acknowledged the congratulations.
All turned pale. What did this mean? Liu Bei’s brother Guan Yu was especially angry. His bushy eyebrows stood up fiercely and his red phoenix eyes glared as he, sword in hand, urged his horse forward to cut down the audacious minister for his impertinence. However, his eldest brother hastily waved him back and shot at him a meaningful glance so that he stopped and made no further move.
Liu Bei bowed toward Cao Cao and said, “A truly wonderful shot, sir. Few can hope to match your mastery!”
“I owe this to the enormous good fortune of the Emperor,” said Cao Cao with a smile. Then he turned his steed to congratulate the Emperor. Nevertheless, he did not return the bow but hung it over his own shoulder instead. The hunt finished with banqueting. When the entertainment was over they all returned to their own lodgings in the capital.
Guan Yu was still thinking of Cao Cao’s breach of decorum. He asked Liu Bei, “Brother, why did you prevent me from killing that rebel and so ridding the world of a scoundrel? He had insulted the Emperor.”
“When you throw stones at a rat, beware of the vase,” quoted Liu Bei. “Cao Cao was only a horse’s head away from our Lord and in the midst of a crowd of his own men. In that momentary burst of anger, if you struck and failed, and harm had come to the Emperor, what an awful crime would have been laid on us!”
“If we don’t get rid of him today, more evil will come of it,” said Guan Yu.
“But be discreet, my brother. Such matters can’t be lightly discussed.”
The Emperor sadly returned to his palace. With tears in his eyes he related what had occurred in the hunting expedition to his consort, Empress Fu. He said, “From the day of my accession one vicious minister has succeeded another. I was first the victim of Dong Zhuo’s tyranny, which was then followed by the rebellion of Li Jue and Guo Si. You and I have suffered miseries such as no others have endured. Then came this Cao Cao. I thought he would maintain the imperial dignity, but he has seized all the power of the state and does as he wishes. He works continually for his own glorification and rides roughshods over all others. I never see him but I am on tenterhooks. In the hunting field today he even pushed ahead of me to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd. He was so extremely impertinent that I feel sure he has sinister designs against me. And then, alas, it will be the end of both you and me!”
The Empress said in despair, “In a whole court full of nobles who have eaten the bread of Han, is there not one who will save his country?”
Hardly had she finished her words there stepped in a man who said, “Do not grieve, Your Majesties! I can recommend someone to destroy the evil Cao Cao.”
The Emperor turned to look at the speaker and found that it was none other than the father of the Empress, Fu Wan.
“Have you also heard of Cao Cao’s wanton and perverse behavior today?” asked the Emperor, drying his eyes.
“Who could have failed to notice his impudence after he shot that deer? But the whole court is full of his clan or his close followers. With the exception of the relatives of the Imperial House there is not one loyal enough to step forward and deal with the rebel. I am old and have no authority to do anything, but there is your grand uncle, General Dong Cheng, who could do it.”
“I know he has had much experience in dealing with state troubles. I will call him in to discuss this.”
Fu Wan replied, “Every one of your attendants is a partizan of Cao Cao’s and this must be kept a strict secret or the consequence will be most serious.”
“Then what can be done?” inquired the Emperor.
“The only plan I can think of is to send gifts of a robe and a jade girdle to Dong Cheng, and in the lining of the girdle hide a secret edict authorizing him to take certain steps. When he gets home and has read the edict he can formulate plans day and night, and neither the spirits above nor the demons below will know anything about it.”
The Emperor approved and the old man went away. The Emperor then with his own hand drew up a decree in blood drawn by biting his finger. He gave the document to his consort and she sewed it into the purple lining of the girdle. When the sewing was done he put on the robe and tied the girdle. Next, he summoned Dong Cheng to the palace.
Dong Cheng came and after the usual ceremony was over the Emperor said, “I was talking with the Empress last night of those terrible days of rebellion and we thought of your good service then, therefore I have called you in to reward you.”
The general knelt down and bowed in gratitude. The Emperor led him out of the Reception Hall to the Ancestral Temple and later to the Gallery of Worthy Ministers, where the Emperor burned incense and bowed. After this he took Dong Cheng to look
at the portraits. The first one they saw was the centerpiece, the picture of Emperor Gao-zu, founder of the Han Dynasty.
“From where did our great ancestor start his grand cause and how did he establish his great empire?” asked the Emperor.
“Your Majesty is teasing me,” said Dong Cheng, rather startled at the question. “Who could have been unaware of the heroic achievements of our Sacred Ancestor? He began life as a minor official in Sishang. There gripping his sword he slew the White Serpent and rose in uprising against the rule of Qin. Speedily he conquered the whole empire—in three years he had destroyed Qin, and in five years Chu. Thus he established a dynasty that will endure forever.”
“Such heroic forefathers! Such weakling descendants! How sad it is!” said the Emperor.
Pointing to the portraits right and left he continued, “Are not these two Zhang Liang and Xiao He?”
“Yes, they are. Your great ancestor relied much on their efforts.”
The Emperor glanced about him: his attendants were rather far away. Then he whispered to Dong Cheng, “You, like these two, will stand at my side.”
“My poor services are of no worth—how can I compare with those two?” said Dong Cheng.
“I remember how you saved me last time at the western capital. I have never forgotten but I have nothing to reward you with.” Then, pointing to his own robe, the Emperor continued: “You must wear this robe of mine, bound with my own girdle, and it will be as though you are always near your Emperor.”
Dong Cheng bowed gratefully. Taking off his robe and girdle, the Emperor presented them to his faithful general and whispered, “Examine it closely when you get home, and do not fail my expectations.”
Dong Cheng understood. He put on the robe and the girdle, took his leave, and left the chamber.
However, news had traveled very fast and presently Cao Cao was informed of the meeting. He at once went to the palace and arrived just as Dong Cheng was leaving the gate. They met face to face and Dong Cheng could in no way avoid him. He stood at the side of the road and made his obeisance.
“Where have you been, sir?” asked Cao Cao.
“His Majesty summoned me into the palace and has given me this robe and girdle.”
“Why did he give you these?”
“He had not forgotten that I saved his life in the days of the Li and Guo rebellion.”
“Take it off and let me see it.”
Knowing that a secret decree was hidden away somewhere in the garments, Dong Cheng was afraid Cao Cao would find out, so he hesitated. But the tyrant called his guards to force Dong Cheng to take off the girdle and give it to him at once. Then he looked it over very carefully.
“It certainly is a very handsome girdle,” he said. “Now take off the robe and let me look at that.”
Dong Cheng’s heart was melting with fear but he dared not disobey. So he handed over the robe.
Cao took it and held it up against the sun, minutely examining every part of it. When he had done this he put it on, secured it with the girdle and, turning to his followers, said: “How is it for length?”
“Beautiful!” they said in chorus.
Turning to Dong Cheng he said, “Will you give these to me?”
“My Emperor’s presents to me I dare not give to another. Let me give you another robe and girdle instead.”
“Is there not some intrigue connected with these presents?”
“How would I dare to do such a thing?” said Dong Cheng, trembling. “If you are so set upon these then I must give them up.”
“How could I take away what your Emperor has given you? I was only joking,” said Cao Cao.
He returned both the robe and girdle and their owner made his way home. That night, alone in his library, he took out the robe and looked over every inch of it most carefully but found nothing.
“He gave me these and told me to look at them carefully. That means there is something to be looked for but I can find no trace of it. How can it be?” he thought to himself.
Then he lifted the girdle and examined that. The jade plates were carved into the semblance of small dragons interlaced among flowers. The back was of purple silk. All was sewn together most carefully and neatly and he could find nothing out of the ordinary. Feeling greatly puzzled, he laid the belt on the table but presently picked it up and scrutinized it again. He spent long hours over it until he was so sleepy that he leaned over on the small table, his head resting on his hands. He was almost asleep when sparks from the light fell down upon the girdle and burned a hole in the lining. He hastily shook it off, but the mischief was done; a small hole had been burned in the silken lining, and through this there appeared something white with blood marks. He hastily ripped it open and drew out the decree, written by the hand of the Emperor himself in characters of blood. It read:
Of human relationships, that between father and son stands first; of the various social ties, that between the Emperor and his officials stands the highest. Today the wicked Cao Cao is a real tyrant, treating even me with indignity. Supported by his faction and his army he has corrupted the principles of government. He confers rewards and inflicts punishments at will, thus reducing me to a nonentity. I grieve over this day and night for fear that the empire would be ruined.
You are a high-ranking general of the state and my own relative. You must recall how difficult it was for our great founder to establish the regime and assemble together the loyal and right-minded to destroy this evil faction and restore the prerogatives of the throne. Such a deed will be an extreme joy to the spirits of my ancestors.
This decree, written in blood drawn from my own fingers, is confided to you. Be most discreet and do not fail in executing my design. Given in the spring of the third month of the fourth year of Jian An (A.D. 199).
So ran the decree and Dong Cheng read it with streaming eyes. There was no sleep for him that night. Early in the morning he returned to his library and re-read it. No plan suggested itself. He laid the decree down on the table and sought in the depths of his mind for some scheme to destroy Cao Cao, but could not decide upon any. And as he was very tired he dozed off on the table.
It so happened that an official named Wang Zi-fu, with whom he was on terms of great intimacy, came to visit him and, as usual, walked into the house unannounced and went straight to the library. His host did not wake up and the visitor noticed, hardly hidden by his sleeve, the Emperor’s writing. Wondering what this might be he drew it out, read it, and put it in his own sleeve. Then he called out, “How carefree you are! I’m surprised you can still get to sleep.”
The host started up and at once found the decree missing. He was aghast, terrified out of his wits.
“So you want to make away with Cao Cao? I’ll go and tell him,” said his visitor.
“Then, good brother, that is the end of the Hans,” said his host in tears.
“I was joking,” said his friend. “My forefathers also served the Hans and lived on their bounty. Am I devoid of loyalty? I’ll help you as far as I can.”
“It’s a great fortune for the country that you think like this,” said Dong Cheng.
“But we need a more private place than this to talk over such plans and pledge ourselves to sacrifice all in the cause of Han.”
Dong Cheng began to feel very satisfied. He produced a roll of white silk and wrote his own name at the top and signed it, and his friend followed suit. Then the visitor said, “General Wu is my best friend, he can be trusted to join us.”
The host replied, “Of all the officials of the court, Zhong Ji and Wu Shu are my best friends. Certainly they’ll assist us.”
As they were discussing a servant came to announce the arrival of none other than these two men.
“This is providential,” said Dong Cheng and he told his friend to hide behind a screen.
The two guests were led into the library and after an exchange of civilities and a cup of tea, Zhong Ji mentioned the shooting of the stag at the hunting expedition.<
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“Were you not angry at that?” he asked the host.
Dong Cheng answered, “Yes, I am, but what can we do?”
Wu Shu interjected, “I want to slay this fellow, I swear I do! Only I can’t get anyone to back me up.”
“I’d have no regret even though I should perish for my country,” said Zhong Ji.
At this moment Wang Zi-fu appeared from behind the screen and said in jest, “You two want to kill Cao Cao! I have to let him know about this. And Dong Cheng is my witness.”
“A loyal minister does not mind death. If we are killed we will be Han ghosts, which is better than one who curries favor from a traitor of the state.”
The host laughed. “We were just saying we wanted to see you two on this matter. He’s only joking.”
Then he drew forth the decree and showed it to the two newcomers, who also wept as they read it. They were asked to add their names.
Wang Zi-fu said, “Please stay for a few moments. I’m going to get my best friend to come here.”
He left the room and very soon returned with his friend, who also wrote his name in the presence of all the others.
After this the host invited them to the inner hall to drink to the success of their plan.
While they were drinking, a new visitor, Ma Teng, Prefect of Xiliang, was announced.
“Say I am indisposed,” said the host, “and cannot receive visitors.”
The doorkeeper took the message to Ma Teng who said angrily, “Last night at the palace gate I saw him come out in robe and girdle. How can he pretend illness today? I have not come from mere idleness. Why does he refuse to see me?”
The doorkeeper went in again and told his master what the visitor had said and that he was very angry. Dong Cheng asked his guests to wait for him and went to receive the new visitor. After the greetings Ma Teng said, “I am going to return home soon. I have already had an audience with the Emperor and wished to bid you farewell. Why did you want to put me off?”
“My poor body was suddenly taken ill—that is why I failed to welcome you when you came,” said the host.