When the Lord of Hanzhong, Liu Bei, received word that Guan Yu and his son had been killed, he collapsed to the ground in a torrent of grief. His civil and military officers rushed to revive him; it was a long while before he regained his senses, and they helped him into the inner hall. Zhuge Liang counseled him, saying, “My lord, you must not grieve so deeply. From of old, it is said that life and death are governed by fate. Guan Yu was by nature proud and overconfident in his own prowess, and thus he met this calamity. For now, my lord, you must care for your own person and bide your time to exact revenge.” Liu Bei replied, “When I swore the oath in the Peach Garden with my two brothers, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, we vowed to live and die together. Now Yunchang is gone—how can I alone enjoy wealth and honor?” Before he had finished speaking, Guan Xing arrived, wailing in anguish. At the sight of him, Liu Bei cried out and once again fell senseless to the ground. The officers revived him once more. That day, he lost consciousness three or four times, and for three days he took neither food nor drink, weeping without cease; his tears soaked his robes and turned to bloodstains. Zhuge Liang and the other officials urged him repeatedly to take heart. Liu Bei declared, “I swear before Heaven and Earth that I will not share the same sky with the Kingdom of Wu!” Zhuge Liang said, “I have heard that the Kingdom of Wu presented Guan Yu’s head to Cao Cao, who buried it with the rites due a prince or marquis.” Liu Bei asked, “What does that mean?” Zhuge Liang replied, “It was a scheme by Wu to shift the blame for the killing onto Cao Cao. Cao Cao saw through their plot and so buried Guan Yu with full honors, hoping to turn your anger against Wu alone.” Liu Bei said, “Then I will raise an army this very day and march against Wu to avenge this wrong!” Zhuge Liang advised against it: “That cannot be. Now Wu wants us to attack Wei, just as Wei wants us to attack Wu. Each side harbors treacherous schemes, watching for an opening to strike. My lord, you should keep your forces still, hold a funeral for Guan Yu, and wait until Wu and Wei fall out with each other. Then, when the moment is ripe, you may strike. That is the proper course.” The other officials also urged him repeatedly to be patient, and only then did Liu Bei consent to eat. He issued an order that all officers and soldiers in the Riverlands should wear mourning white. The Lord of Hanzhong himself went out through the southern gate to perform the rites of summoning the soul and offered sacrifices, weeping bitterly the entire day.
Meanwhile, in Luoyang, after burying Guan Yu, Cao Cao could not close his eyes at night without seeing Guan Yu’s vengeful spirit. Filled with fear and dread, he asked his officials what to do. They replied, “The old halls of the temporary palace in Luoyang are haunted by many evil spirits. You should build a new palace to dwell in.” Cao Cao said, “I wish to build a hall called the Hall of First Foundation. But I fear there is no skilled craftsman.” Jia Xu said, “There is a master artisan in Luoyang named Su Yue, who possesses the most ingenious designs.” Cao Cao summoned Su Yue and ordered him to draw up plans. Su Yue sketched a nine-bay great hall, complete with front and rear corridors, towers, and pavilions, and presented it to Cao Cao. Cao Cao looked it over and said, “Your design pleases me well, but I fear there are no timbers large enough for the ridgepoles and beams.” Su Yue replied, “Thirty li from the city, there is a pool called the Leaping Dragon Pool. Before it stands a shrine, the Leaping Dragon Shrine. Beside the shrine grows a great pear tree, over ten spans tall, which would serve perfectly for the ridgepole of the Hall of First Foundation.”
Cao Cao was overjoyed and immediately sent workmen to fell the tree. The next day, they reported back that the tree could not be split with saws nor cut with axes—it was impossible to bring down. Cao Cao refused to believe it. He took several hundred horsemen and rode straight to the Leaping Dragon Shrine. Dismounting, he looked up at the tree. It stood tall and majestic, its canopy like a great umbrella reaching into the clouds, with not a single crooked branch. Cao Cao ordered his men to cut it down. Several local elders came forward to protest, saying, “This tree has stood for several hundred years. Spirits often dwell in its branches. It may not be safe to fell it.” Cao Cao grew furious and declared, “In all my life, I have traveled across the realm for more than forty years. From the Son of Heaven above to the common folk below, none dare defy me! What demon spirit is this that dares to oppose my will?” So saying, he drew his sword and struck the tree himself. There was a loud clang, and blood spattered all over his body. Cao Cao was stunned with terror. He threw down his sword, mounted his horse, and rode back to his palace. That night, in the second watch, Cao Cao could not sleep. He sat up in the hall and dozed off, leaning on a table. Suddenly, he saw a man with disheveled hair, carrying a sword, dressed in black, who came straight before him. Pointing at Cao Cao, the figure shouted, “I am the spirit of the pear tree! You wanted to build the Hall of First Foundation with the intent to usurp the throne, and you dared to cut down my sacred tree! I know your fate is spent, and I have come to kill you!” Cao Cao was terrified and cried out, “Where are my guards?” The black-robed man raised his sword to strike. Cao Cao screamed and woke with a start. His head ached with a pain so fierce it was unbearable. He immediately issued orders for the finest physicians to be summoned from everywhere, but none could cure him. All his officials were deeply worried.
Hua Xin came before him and said, “Your Highness, have you heard of the divine physician Hua Tuo?” Cao Cao asked, “Is that the man from Jiangdong who treated Zhou Tai?” Hua Xin replied, “The same.” Cao Cao said, “I have heard his name, but I do not know his skill.” Hua Xin said, “Hua Tuo, styled Yuanhua, was born in Qiao Commandery, in the state of Pei. His medical arts are rarely matched in this world. Whenever he treats a patient, whether with medicines, acupuncture, or moxibustion, he heals them at once. If the disease lies in the internal organs and medicines are ineffective, he administers a draught of hemp-boiled soup that makes the patient feel as if dead-drunk. Then, with a sharp knife, he opens the abdomen, washes the organs with a medicinal solution, and the patient feels no pain. After washing, he sews up the wound with medicated thread and applies ointment. In a month, or twenty days, the patient is fully recovered—such is his miraculous skill! Once, as he was walking along a road, he heard a man groaning. Hua Tuo said, ‘This is a case of food not passing the throat.’ He asked, and it was true. Hua Tuo had the man drink three pints of garlic-vinegar juice, and the man vomited a snake two or three feet long, after which he could eat normally again. Chen Deng, the Grand Administrator of Guangling, suffered from a stifling sensation in his chest, a red face, and an inability to eat. He called for Hua Tuo, who gave him a potion. Chen Deng vomited three pints of worms, all with red heads, wriggling from end to end. When Chen Deng asked the reason, Hua Tuo said, ‘This is because you ate too much raw fish and shellfish. The poison is in your system. You are cured for now, but in three years it will return, and then it will be incurable.’ And indeed, Chen Deng died three years later. Another man had a tumor on his brow that itched unbearably. He asked Hua Tuo to look at it. Hua Tuo said, ‘There is a flying creature inside.’ Everyone laughed at him. Hua Tuo cut it open, and a yellow oriole flew out. The man was cured at once. A man was bitten on the toe by a dog, and two lumps of flesh grew there—one painful, one itchy, both unbearable. Hua Tuo said, ‘Inside the painful one are ten needles; inside the itchy one are two gaming pieces, one black and one white.’ No one believed him. Hua Tuo cut them open, and it was exactly as he had said. This man is truly a second Bian Que or Cang Gong! He currently lives in Jincheng, not far from here. Why does Your Highness not summon him?”
Cao Cao immediately sent men to fetch Hua Tuo with all speed. When Hua Tuo arrived, Cao Cao ordered him to feel his pulse and examine his illness. Hua Tuo said, “Your Highness’s headache is caused by a wind ailment. The root of the disease lies in your skull, where the wind-phlegm cannot escape. Taking medicines in vain will not cure it. I have one method: first, you must drink a draught of hemp-boiled soup; then, with a sharp axe, I will split open your skull and remove the wind-phlegm. Only then can the root be eliminated.” Cao Cao flew into a rage and shouted, “Are you trying to kill me?” Hua Tuo replied, “Has Your Highness not heard how Guan Yu was struck by a poisoned arrow in his right arm, and I scraped the bone to remove the poison? Guan Yu showed not a trace of fear. Now, with this minor ailment of yours, why are you so suspicious?” Cao Cao said, “Scraping an arm is one thing, but splitting open my skull? You must be in league with Guan Yu, and you are using this opportunity to avenge him!” He ordered his guards to seize Hua Tuo and throw him into prison, where he was to be tortured to extract a confession. Jia Xu protested, saying, “A physician of such skill is rarely found in this world. You should not destroy him.” Cao Cao retorted, “This man wants to take advantage of my illness to harm me—he is no different from Ji Ping!” And he pressed for the torture to continue.
In the prison, there was a jailer named Wu, known to all as Jailer Wu. Every day, he brought Hua Tuo wine and food. Hua Tuo was grateful for his kindness and said to him, “I am about to die, and I regret that my book, the ‘Green Bag Manual,’ has not been passed on to the world. I am touched by your kindness and have no way to repay you. I will write a letter; you may send someone to my home to fetch the ‘Green Bag Manual’ and give it to you, so that my art may be continued.” Jailer Wu was overjoyed and said, “If I obtain that book, I will give up this post and treat the sick of the world, spreading your virtue.” Hua Tuo wrote a letter and gave it to Jailer Wu. The jailer went straight to Jincheng, asked Hua Tuo’s wife for the “Green Bag Manual,” and returned to the prison. He gave it to Hua Tuo, who examined it and then presented the book to Jailer Wu. The jailer took it home and hid it. Ten days later, Hua Tuo died in prison. Jailer Wu bought a coffin, buried him properly, and then resigned from his post. He went home, intending to take out the “Green Bag Manual” and study it. But to his horror, he saw his wife burning the book in the fire. He rushed to snatch it away, but the entire volume was already destroyed, leaving only a page or two. Jailer Wu cursed his wife in a fury. His wife said, “Even if you learned all of Hua Tuo’s divine skills, you would only end up dying in prison like him. What use would it be?” Jailer Wu sighed deeply and gave up. And so the “Green Bag Manual” was never passed down to the world. The only techniques that survived were minor ones for castrating chickens and pigs, which were recorded on the few remaining pages.
A poet of the time lamented: Hua Tuo’s immortal arts rivaled those of Changsang himself; his vision pierced through walls as if they were not there. How sad that the man perished and his book was lost, so that later generations never saw the Green Bag again.
After Cao Cao had Hua Tuo killed, his illness grew worse. He was also troubled by the affairs of Wu and Shu. While he was brooding over these matters, a close attendant suddenly announced that an envoy from the Kingdom of Wu had arrived bearing a letter. Cao Cao took the letter and opened it. It read: “Your subject Sun Quan has long known that the Mandate of Heaven has already passed to Your Highness. I humbly beg you to ascend to the great throne as soon as possible. Send your generals to destroy Liu Bei and sweep away the two Riverlands. I, your subject, will then lead all my officers and people to surrender our lands and submit to your rule.” Cao Cao read it and laughed heartily. He showed it to his officials and said, “That boy wants to set me on a furnace of fire!” Attendant Chen Qun and others said, “The Han house has long been in decline. Your Highness’s virtue and merit are towering, and the people look to you. Now Sun Quan has acknowledged himself your subject and offered his allegiance—this is the response of Heaven and men, a chorus of different voices in harmony. Your Highness should answer Heaven and follow the will of the people by ascending to the great throne without delay.” Cao Cao laughed and said, “I have served the Han for many years. Though I have some merit and virtue among the people, my rank has already reached that of a king, the highest title and honor. How dare I aspire to anything more? If the Mandate of Heaven is truly destined for me, I will be content to be King Wen of the Zhou.” Sima Yi said, “Now that Sun Quan has acknowledged himself your subject and surrendered, Your Highness should grant him an official title and fief, and order him to oppose Liu Bei.” Cao Cao agreed. He memorialized the throne to grant Sun Quan the titles of General of Chariots and Cavalry and Marquis of Nanchang, with the additional post of Governor of Jing Province. That very day, he sent an envoy bearing the official documents to the Kingdom of Wu.
Cao Cao’s condition grew worse. One night, he dreamed of three horses feeding from the same trough. When dawn came, he asked Jia Xu, “I once dreamed of three horses feeding from the same trough, and I suspected it meant trouble from Ma Teng and his sons. Now Ma Teng is dead, but last night I dreamed the same dream again. What does it portend, good or ill?” Jia Xu replied, “The horse in dreams is an emblem of official salary. A dream of horses feeding from a trough is a good omen—it means that salary and rank will come to the house of Cao. Why should Your Highness doubt?” And so Cao Cao was reassured. A poet of later times wrote: The dream of three horses at one trough was a thing to ponder, but who knew that it planted the roots of the Jin dynasty? Cao Man, empty of all but a traitor’s cunning, could not see that the power lay with Sima Shi and his kin.
That night, Cao Cao lay down in his bedchamber. In the third watch, he felt dizzy and his head swam. He got up and dozed off, leaning on a table. Suddenly, he heard a sound in the hall like tearing silk. He looked up in alarm and saw Empress Fu, Consort Dong, the two imperial princes, Fu Wan, Dong Cheng, and more than twenty others, all covered in blood, standing within a mass of gloomy clouds. He could faintly hear them demanding his life. In panic, Cao Cao drew his sword and slashed at the empty air. There was a loud crash, and the southwest corner of the hall collapsed. Cao Cao fell to the ground in shock. His personal attendants carried him out and moved him to another palace to recuperate. The next night, he again heard the sound of men and women weeping outside the hall, unceasing. At dawn, Cao Cao summoned his officials and said, “I have been in the midst of war for more than thirty years, and I have never believed in strange or supernatural things. Why is this happening now?” His officials replied, “Your Highness should order Taoist priests to perform rites of purification and prayer to avert the evil.” Cao Cao sighed and said, “The sage said, ‘If you have sinned against Heaven, there is no place to pray.’ My fate is already spent. How can I be saved?” And he refused to allow the rites to be performed.
The next day, he felt a rush of energy rising to his upper body, and his eyes could no longer see. He urgently summoned Xiahou Dun to discuss matters. As Xiahou Dun reached the palace gate, he suddenly saw Empress Fu, Consort Dong, the two imperial princes, Fu Wan, and Dong Cheng, standing in a bank of dark clouds. Xiahou Dun was so terrified that he fainted on the spot. His attendants helped him away, and from that day on, he fell ill. Cao Cao summoned Cao Hong, Chen Qun, Jia Xu, Sima Yi, and others to his bedside to entrust them with his final affairs. Cao Hong and the others kowtowed and said, “Your Highness, take good care of your precious person. In no time at all, you will surely recover.” Cao Cao said, “I have bestrode the realm for more than thirty years, destroying all the heroes. Only Sun Quan of Jiangdong and Liu Bei of Western Shu remain unsubdued. Now I am gravely ill and can no longer confer with you. I entrust to you my family affairs. My eldest son, Cao Ang, was born of Lady Liu. He died young at Wancheng. Now Lady Bian has borne me four sons: Cao Pi, Cao Zhang, Cao Zhi, and Cao Xiong. I have always loved my third son, Cao Zhi, the most, but he is frivolous and lacks sincerity. He is fond of wine and unrestrained in his conduct, so I will not make him my heir. My second son, Cao Zhang, is brave but has no strategy. My fourth son, Cao Xiong, is sickly and will not live long. Only my eldest son, Cao Pi, is honest, prudent, and respectful—he is the one who can succeed me in my enterprise. You must assist him.” Cao Hong and the others wept and accepted his command, then withdrew.
Cao Cao ordered his personal attendants to bring out the rare perfumes he had collected over the years and distributed them among his concubines, instructing them, “After I die, you must diligently practice your needlework and make many silk shoes. You can sell them to earn enough to support yourselves.” He also ordered that his concubines should live in the Tower of the Bronze Sparrow, and that every day, sacrifices should be offered there, with female musicians playing music and presenting food. He also left a final command that, outside the city of Jiangwu in Zhangde Prefecture, seventy-two decoy tombs should be built: “Do not let future generations know where I am truly buried, for I fear my grave will be dug up.” Having given these instructions, he heaved a long sigh, and tears fell like rain. In a moment, his breath ceased and he died. He was sixty-six years old. It was the first month of spring in the twenty-fifth year of the Jian’an era. A poet of later times composed a song about the city of Ye in mourning for Cao Cao: Ye, the city of Ye, and the Zhang River that flows by it—surely a man of destiny would rise from this place. With grand schemes, elegant pursuits, and a literary mind, he was lord and minister, father and brother to his men. A hero’s heart is never common; his comings and goings are not for the eyes of the crowd. The first in merit and the first in crime are not two men; a single body bears both stench and fragrance. His writings had spirit, his ambition had force—how could he be content to be just one of the herd? He built a tower athwart the current, facing the Taihang Mountains, his spirit rising and falling with the forces of the age. How could such a man not rebel? If he could not be a hegemon in small things, he would be a king in great. The hegemon and the king descended to the cries of women and children, but in his heart there was a restless discontent. He knew that giving away his perfumes before the tent was of no real use, yet it cannot be called heartless. Alas! The men of old, in all their deeds great and small, in their loneliness and their glory, had their own meanings. The bookish scholar lightly judges the man in the tomb, but the man in the tomb laughs at the scholar’s bookishness!
When Cao Cao died, all the civil and military officials went into mourning. Messengers were immediately sent to inform his heir Cao Pi, the Marquis of Yiling Cao Zhang, the Marquis of Linzi Cao Zhi, and the Marquis of Xiaohuai Cao Xiong. The officials placed Cao Cao’s body in a golden coffin and a silver outer coffin, and the funeral cortege set out day and night for Ye Commandery. When Cao Pi heard of his father’s death, he wept bitterly. He led all the officers of high and low rank ten li outside the city, where they knelt by the roadside to welcome the coffin. It was carried into the city and placed in a side hall. The officials put on mourning white and gathered in the hall, weeping. Suddenly, one man stepped forward and said, “Let the heir set aside his grief and discuss the great matter at hand.” Everyone looked at him—it was Sima Fu, a Gentleman of the Palace. Sima Fu said, “The King of Wei has passed away, and the realm is shaken. You should establish the new king as soon as possible to calm the people’s hearts. Why waste time only in weeping?” The officials said, “The heir should indeed succeed to the throne, but we have not yet received the imperial edict. How can we act rashly?” Chen Jiao, the Minister of War, said, “The king died away from the capital. If his beloved son takes the throne without proper authority, it will lead to unrest and endanger the state.” So saying, he drew his sword, cut off his own sleeve, and declared in a harsh voice, “Let the heir take the throne this very day! Any official who disagrees will be treated like this sleeve!” The officials were all struck with fear.
Suddenly, a messenger reported that Hua Xin had arrived from Xuchang, riding a horse at full speed. Everyone was greatly alarmed. In a moment, Hua Xin entered, and they asked him his purpose. He said, “The King of Wei has died, and the realm is shaken. Why have you not yet asked the heir to take the throne?” The officials replied, “We were just discussing that, since we cannot wait for the imperial edict, we should follow the benevolent decree of Queen Dowager Bian to establish the heir as king.” Hua Xin said, “I have already obtained the imperial edict from the Han Emperor.” Everyone was overjoyed and offered their congratulations. Hua Xin took the edict from his bosom and read it aloud. It turned out that Hua Xin, in his eagerness to flatter the House of Wei, had drafted this edict himself and forced Emperor Xian to issue it. The emperor had no choice but to comply, and so the edict appointed Cao Pi as King of Wei, Chancellor, and Governor of Ji Province. Cao Pi ascended the throne that very day and received the bows and homage of all the officials.
In the midst of the celebratory feast, a report suddenly arrived that the Marquis of Yiling, Cao Zhang, was approaching from Chang’an with a hundred thousand troops. Cao Pi was greatly alarmed and asked his officials, “My younger brother with the yellow beard has always been hot-tempered and deeply skilled in martial arts. Now he comes with a large army from afar—he must be coming to dispute the throne with me. What shall I do?” Suddenly, a man stepped forward from below the steps and said, “Allow me to go and see the Marquis of Yiling. I will persuade him with a few words.” Everyone said, “No one but you, sir, can resolve this peril.” Truly: Watch how the sons of Cao, Pi and Zhang, nearly repeated the fratricidal strife of the Yuan brothers, Tan and Shang. Who was this man? Read on to learn the answer in the next chapter.