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you, sir, to come with me to my humble district?”
    “Well, I am too dilatory, too fond of leisure and ease, and no longer have any ambitions. Maybe I will see you another time.”
    And with these words he saluted and left.
    The three brothers also mounted and started homeward. Presently Zhang Fei said, “We didn’t find Zhuge Liang and yet had to listen to the wild ravings of this so-called scholar. That is the whole outcome of this journey.”
    “His words were also those of a deep thinker,” replied Liu Bei.
    Several days after their return to Xinye, Liu Bei sent someone to find out whether Zhuge Liang had returned and the messenger came back to say that he had. Therefore Liu Bei prepared for another visit. Again Zhang Fei showed his irritation by remarking, “Why must you go hunting after this villager? Just send for him.”
    “Silence!” reproached Liu Bei. “The great master Mencius said, ‘To wish to see the sage without following his way is like barring the door when you want him to enter.’ Zhuge Liang is the greatest sage of the day—how can I summon him?”
    So Liu Bei rode again to make his visit, followed by his two brothers as before. It was winter and the weather was exceedingly cold—the sky was overcast with dark clouds. Before they had gone far, a piercing wind swept up and large snowflakes began to fall, soon turning the mountains and trees into an ethereal world of jade and silver.
    “It’s very cold and the earth is frozen hard, not the kind of weather even for warfare,” said Zhang Fei. “Yet we’re going all this way to see a useless person. What’s the sense of it? Let’s rather get back to Xinye to avoid the cold.”
    Liu Bei replied, “I’m set upon proving my zeal to Zhuge Liang, but if you, brothers, don’t like the cold, you can return.”
    “I defy even death—do you think I’ll mind the cold? I’m only afraid that you might be wasting your energy,” said Zhang Fei.
    “Say no more,” said Liu Bei, and they traveled on.
    When they drew near the cottage they heard singing from a roadside inn and stopped to listen. This was the song:
Although possessed of talent rare,
    This man has made no name;
Alas! the day is breaking late
That is to show his fame.
    Oh friends you know the tale;
    The aged man * constrained to leave
His cottage by the sea,
To follow in a prince’s train
His counselor to be.
    Eight hundred feudal chieftains met
Who came with one accord;
    The happy omen, that white fish,
That leapt the boat aboard;
    The gory field in distant wilds,
Whence flowed a crimson tide,
And him acknowledged chief in war
Whose virtues none denied;
    That Gaoyang rustic, † fond of wine,
Who left his native place
And went to serve so faithfully
The man ‡ of showy nose;
    And one who spoke of ruling chiefs
In tones so bold and free;
    But sitting at the festive board
Was full of courtesy;
    And one, ‘twas he who laid in dust
Walled cities near four score—
    But men of doughty deeds like these
On earth are seen no more.
    Yet these two have perished,
Their deeds no longer remembered.
So whoever in this world now
Will talk about heroes of renown?
    The song ended, then another man tapped the table and sang:
We had a famous emperor, §
    Who drew his shining sword,
Cleansed all the land within the seas
And made himself its lord.
    In time his son succeeded him,
    And so from son to son
    The lordship passed, held firm until
Four hundred years had run.
    Then dawned a day of weaklier sons,
The fiery virtue failed,
Then ministers betrayed their trust,
vile court intrigues prevailed.
    The omens came; a serpent black *
Coiled on the dragon throne,
While in the Hall of Jade
Unholy halos shone.
    Now bandits swarm in all the land
And ambitious lords strive,
The common people, sore perplexed,
Can nowhere find relief.
    Let’s drown our sorrows in the cup,
Be happy while we may,
Let those who wish run after fame
And try to make a name.
    The two men laughed aloud and clapped their hands as the