Hao Qiu Zhuan/en1761-en2026/Chapter 1
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Chapter 1: In the Phoenix City, a Chivalrous Heart Pities a Pair of LovebirdsFrom: Hau Kiou Choaan, or The Pleasing History. Translated by James Wilkinson, edited by Thomas Percy (London, 1761) Note: This text was digitized via OCR from the original 1761 print. Some scan errors may remain -- compare with the modern translation and Chinese original to verify. CHAP. I. IN the city of Tah-ming[1], formerly lived a student named Tieh-chung-u, of great endowments of body and mind: for the beauty of his person, which equaled that of the finest woman, he was called the handsome Tieh: yet was his temper no less rough and impetuous than his form was elegant and pleasing: bold and resolute in resenting affronts, without any regard or awe of his superiors; yet strictly just, humane, generous, and noble, never so happy as when employed in assisting and relieving the distressed. His father, whose name was Tieh-ying, was a Mandarine of justice: his mother's name was Sheh sheh: his father belonged to one of the tribunals in the palace, but because of the violent temper of his son, confined him at his house in another city[2], lest he should involve him in any trouble at court. There he lived and kept house, pursuing his studies, and at proper intervals unbending his mind with company. When he had at- tained his sixteenth year, his father and mother began to think of marrying their son[3]. They acquainted him with it; but he was no way disposed to con- cur with their intentions: on the con- trary, he urged that marriage was not like an acquaintance or friendship, which could not be quitted on any dislike or disagreement[4]: that whenever he should incline to marry, he would take more than common care in his choice but should hardly think of it 'till he could meet with a lady possessed of every perfection of mind and person. These arguments weighed so deeply with his parents, that they left him to himself. When he had arrived at his twentieth year, one day as he was amusing himself with reading an ancient history, and drinking between whiles[5], he met with the story of an Emperor, who sent to one of his Mandarines, named Pé-kan, for his heart[6] to make a medical potion for his queen, who was sick. Pé-kan immediately suffered himself to be opened, and his heart to be taken out in obedience to the Emperor's order. Here the young Tieh-chung-u saw how much the great were exposed to the fatal caprice of Princes, and how far more desirable was a life of obscurity. But more par- ticularly struck with the great resignation of Pé-kan, he was led to reflect on that duty and obedience he had been wanting in to his parents. So deeply was he stung with remorse, that he passed the night without sleep. At length he resolved to go and throw himself at their feet; and to implore their pardon for that stubbornness of temper, which had kept him so long apart from them. Full of these resolutions he arose in the morning, and taking with him only one servant named Siow-tan, left his house and set out for the court. He had been now two days on the road, and so impatient to see his father, as to neglect almost all repose and re- freshment, when he found himself on the approach of night far from any house of reception for travellers. At length he came where at some distance was a large village, but near were only a few scattered cottages of very poor people: at one of these he alighted, and calling, an old woman came to him: who see- ing him drest in his student's habit, said to him, "Siang-coon, or young gentle- man, I suppose you are come from court[7] hither to visit Wey-fiang-coon, or our young student of this village." He said he knew no such person. She enquired what then could bring him thither. He told her he had lost his road, and intreated her to give him room in some part of her house to pass the night. She said he was wel- come, and that she was only sorry she could not entertain him as he deserved. His servant Siow-tan brought in his bed and other travelling furniture : and the old woman shewed him a place for his horse, furnished out a room for him with clean straw, and brought him tea. Tieh-chung-u having refreshed him- self a little, asked why she was so in- quisitive at his arrival, and who the young student was whom she had men- tioned. "You don't know perhaps, said she, that this village was not former- ly called as it is at present, Wey- tswün[8], but received that name from a family that lives here, who were once great people at court, but are now re- duced to the meanest condition. But thank heaven, there is one of the fa- mily, who altho' poor, understands letters: he went to court to undergo his examination[9]: there he met with a friend, a learned man, named Han-yuen[8], who conceived a great fondness for him; and having one only daughter would give her to him in marriage: for which purpose he caused him to take a pledge. 'Tis now four years since he was betrothed, without ever fetching home his wife, not having wherewithal to maintain her. Some time since she happened to be seen by a great Mandarine, who fell in love with her, and would have her for a fe- cond wife, or concubine, which the fa- ther and mother would by no means consent to. This enraged the noble- man, who contrived many ways to get her, and at last carryed her off by force. Wey-fiang-coon was advised of his loss, and repaired to the court to make his complaint: but not knowing how to apply for relief, and unable to learn news of his wife or her relations, all whom the Mandarine had secured, he returned home in despair. Since that time, his mother, fearing he might make himself away, hath desired the assistance of her neighbours to prevent such a misfortune." While she was yet talking, they heard a great noise and disturbance in the freet: they looked out and saw a crowd of people, and in the midst of them a young man clad in blue[10], who wept and lamented. In the crowd the old woman saw her husband, whom she called to her, and informed of their gueft: he blamed her for having de- layed to provide a supper for the ftran- ger, and commanded her to hasten it. Of this man Tieh-chung-u enquired whether the student's wife was carried off by night or by day? He told him, in the day time. He then asked if there were none that saw it. He was answered there were several, but none that durft open their lips: for who would be forward to appear against so great and powerful a Mandarine? Here the old woman interrupted, beg- ging them to talk no more of it, for that now there was no remedy. Tieh- chung-u smiled and said, "You peo- ple of the villages are so faint- hearted and doubtful! but perhaps you know not the truth of the story, and all you have been telling me is a fiction." "By no means, she replied, nettled at his affected incredulity; I know it to be true: a cousin of mine who fells straw at the court, by great chance was pre- sent, and saw both the young woman and also her father and mother carried in- to the Mandarine's house, which is a palace of retirement given him by the Emperor, who hath made it sacred to every every body but himself and to whom he pleafes." "Why did not you advise the young man of this?" said Tiek- chung-u. "To what purpose? said the other it is in vain for him to con- tend." He then enquired where this palace stood: she told, him without the city: but though he should find it, no one durft look into it. Supper being ready they ended talking: after which he called his servant Siow-tan to lay his bed, being fatigued and sleepy. In the morning when he had break- fasted, he ordered his servant to weigh out five mace[11] to pay the old woman: he then took leave of her with many thanks for her kind treatment: she in return asked him pardon for any thing that was amifs; but particularly in- treated him not to open his lips about what she had told him, as well for his own safety as hers." What is that af- fair to me? he replied: your kind en- tertainment of me is all I have to remember: fear nothing." The old woman waited on him to the great road, and there took her leave of him. Tieh-chung-u mounted his horse, and was got two or three lee[12] on his way, when he perceived at some distance before him Wey-fiang-coon stamping and raving by himself, calling out to hea- ven and complaining of his fate. Tieh- chung-u no sooner discovered who he was, but he made all hafte to come up to him: when dismounting[13] from his horse, he ran to him and clapped him on the shoulder: "Brother, said he, yield not up to despair: your cause of grief may be removed: I'll use my endeavours, and doubt not but to get your fair mistress restored to you." Surprised at being accosted in this manner, the student lifted up his eyes and looked stedfastly at him; when seeing him to be a person of good and genteel aspect, but utterly unknown to him, he was the more more astonished: nevertheless he said, "Sir, you seem to be a man of rank and consideration: I am a poor and mean person. Till this moment I never had the honour to see you. I am plunged in the deepest sorrow and affliction : but I cannot account for your know- ledge of it. The words you spoke just now have so rejoiced me, that I think they could only come from Heaven. But, alas! 'tis all in vain! my mif- fortune is so great that it is not possible for you, tho' you were an angel[14], to afford me relief." Tieh-chung-u laughed, and said, "This is no more than the sting of a bee: if I can't untie this knot, let the world laugh at me. In former times there were heroes who could per- form great atchievements: and why not now?" Wey-fiang-coon thought there was something in this more than ordinary: "Sir, said he, I perceive you are a per- son of uncommon merit: I ask your pardon: pray, how am I to call you?" "That, replied Tieh-chung-u, it is not necessary for you to know at present : but I must beg to be informed of your own original name[15], and where you would betake yourself, for I have some- thing to say to you farther." "My name, said he, is Wey-phey, and I should go find out some way to end my life, but for my mother, who is a widow, and de- pends on me alone for her support. For her fake I endure my misfortunes, and have sought all means of relief : none offers now but to write a petition and carry it to court, there to present myself with it to some Mandarine: if he refuses to accept it I will go to another; and so on 'till I find one that will: if none will do me justice, I can then but dye: I shall dye in the face of the world, and not meanly in secret." And taking out his petition, he gave it to Tieh-chung-u; who read it, and found the wife's father to be a Doctor of law[16], of the second degree. The Mandarine alfo, who had committed the violence, was not unknown to him. "Very well, said he, this petition is right, and must be presented to the Emperor; he has power to apply to any other audi- ence beside will be to no purpose: nor would it avail to carry it to the Em- peror yourself. Intruft it to my care, perhaps I may have an opportunity to serve you." Wey-phey bowed down and embraced his feet. "Sir, said he, the joy your compassion excites in my heart is like the springing forth of tender leaves from the withered branches of a tree. If you do me this favour in procuring my petition to be seen, 'tis not sitting I stay here: let me rather follow your horse's feet and wait on you to court." "Should you go with me, answered Tieh-chung-u, it might alarm the world: it is much better for you to return to your village: within ten days ex- pect to hear from me." "Sir and brother, said Wey-phey, this favour you do me is as great as the heaven and the earth." He then shed some tears, and made him a profound reverence. Tieh-chung-u exhorting him to be com- forted, took the petition and put it in his sleeve; then bidding him adieu, mounted his horfe and put forward. Wey-phey stood amazed and motionless, with his eyes fixed on Tieh-chung-u 'till he was out of sight, not knowing whether what had happened was real or a dream. CHAP. II. The village of Wey-tswün was distant fifty lee from the court, where Tieh-chung-u arrived in two hours: he hastened to his father's house: he found every thing still and quiet before the doors; not a person to be seen. He alighted off his horse, and went into the hall of audience; but neither was one of the clerks, or any one else, to be met with there: he would have proceeded farther, but he found the doors fast shut. He knocked and called; the servants within knew his voice: they unlocked the door, and meeting their young master cryed out! "Bad news! things go very ill!" He asked them, why? "Our master, replied they, is cast into prison by the Emperor's order: you are now arrived in good time: pray go immediately to our lady your mother's apartment, and advise with her." Tieh-chung-u was struck speechless with surprize and grief, and suffered himself to be led to the door of her apartment. His mother, who was called She-fu-jen, or my Lady Sheh, perceiving him, went and caught hold of his sleeve, crying, "My son, you are arrived in good time. Your father has discharged the part of a good man, with the most unwearied perseverance: eager to redress grievances, he would be presenting petitions, from morning to night[17]: there has happened an affair of great consequence; I know not whether he is dead or alive: he is in prison." Tieh-chung-u fell into a violent transport of grief: but observing, how deeply his mother was affected, he fell upon his knees before her and said: "Mother, be not cast down, you must not give yourself up to affliction: though the affair be as great as the heavens are high, we must not yield to despair: we must consult together: you must tell me plainly all that has happened." She bade him rise and take a chair, then told him as follows: "Some days ago, as your father was returning from the Emperor's palace, he was stopped in his way home by an old man and his wife, who had their hair loose and disordered, their faces bruised and bloody, and their cloaths rent: they threw themselves before his horse's feet, crying out for justice. Your father asked them who they were, and by whom they were injured. 'I am a Doctor of law, said the old man, of the second degree, my name is Han-yuen: I have a daughter, whom I have long promised in marriage: but a great Mandarine, named Tab-quay, hearing of her, and that she was something handsome, ordered people to come, and propose terms of marriage, for her to be a second wife, or concubine[18] to him: I answered, that it was impossible for me to consent, for I had already engaged her to another: if he has a mind to take my life, I am content; but I can never yield to give him my daughter. Tab-quay was much enraged: "What! said he, have I made so reasonable a proposal, and am to see it rejected! I'll try whether force can be more successful." Accordingly he sent people to carry her off; which endeavouring to prevent, they abused both of us, in the manner you see.' Your father was much affected with his tale, and passionately moved to procure them redress: hurrying home therefore, he instantly drew up a petition to present to the Emperor. But alas, proceeded the Lady Sheh, your father, notwithstanding his great judgement, was at that time overseen, not to secure the two old people for witnesses: for the Emperor, when he had read his petition, demanded what evidence he had to support it. Upon which he went to seek them, but in vain: for Tab-quay had immediate advice of the affair, and instantly secreted them. The awe of his power drew almost all the Mandarines of the court over to his party. And he in his turn delivered in a petition, wherein he charged your father, with abusing the Emperor's confidence, and possessing him with falsehoods against his faithful servants. Upon this your father's office was taken away, and he was sent to prison. And though some of the Mandarines expressed an inclination to assist him, it was to no purpose, as he had no witnesses to produce in his favour: and if he can procure none, he must suffer death." When she had finished her relation, the countenance of Tieh-chung-u cleared up: "And is Han-yuen, said he, the occasion of all this? this is an affair of trifling consequence; Han-yuen and his daughter every body knows, and the seizing them in their house is known to many. Be no longer dejected, Madam, but take comfort; they cannot be lost. Robbers and thieves, though they be fled into other provinces, are to be found[19], and why not those that are about the court: fear not then but we shall find these people: nay I myself know where they are concealed." "How! said Sheh-fu-jen, is it possible? do you speak certainly true?" "Can a son, said Tieh-chung-u, speak untruths before his mother? that can never be." The Lady Sheh at this was greatly rejoiced, and said, "If this news is true, rest a little and refresh yourself: then hasten to see your father in prison, and take away his sorrow." Upon this she ordered a table to be spread for him to eat; which having done, and changed his cloaths, she called for a servant to attend him. "Madam, said Tieh-chung-u, there is no occasion for such haste; I will first draw up a petition for my father to shew the Emperor." When he had finished it, he asked his mother for his father's chop or seal: and taking that, together with the petition of Wey-phey, he put them both in his sleeve, and bade the servant shew him the way to his father. The Mandarine, that was governor of the prison, knew Tieh-chung-u, and received him with great courtesy: "Sir, said he, the Mandarine your father is within; pray be pleased to go to him; pardon me that I don't wait on you: you have doubtless something to impart to him in private." Tieh-chung-u returned his civilities in a proper manner, and went in. He found his father sitting, without irons, in great composure. He immediately ran and bowed down four times at his feet; asking pardon for not coming sooner to assist him in his troubles: that he deserved not the name of a son, for being absent when he might have performed him services, or at least have known his commands. Tieh-u-sheh[20] raised himself from his chair: "I am, said he, in the place where my duty requires me to be: why are you not at home minding your studies and doing your duty." "Sir, said Tieh-chung-u, if it is your duty to be here, it is mine also to be here to wait upon you." His father paused: at length he answered, "You are in the right: you do your duty: but we live in times, when the Mandarines of the court are corrupted, and duty has no longer any regard paid to it: from a just sense of mine, I presented my petition, putting to the hazard whether it would be heard or not: and now, whether I shall live or die, is in the hand of the Emperor: your coming here will avail me nothing." "Sir, replied Tieh-chung-u, I am made acquainted with the cause of your confinement: but why do you sit down quietly under it: why do not you continue to seek out the old man and his wife; and without trusting to others, petition for leave to do it in your own person." "That, said Tieh-u-sheh, it would not be difficult to obtain: but I fear, if I should apply for such licence, and be still unsuccessful, it will only aggravate my crime, and increase my disgrace." "I have notice of these three people, said the son, but without an express order from the Emperor, they cannot be apprehended." "His order was issued out at the first, replied the father, but they could not be found: my friends inquired, but could learn no news of them. And that you, who are but just arrived, should know any thing of them, is very unlikely. 'Tis all a jest! you are but a boy, and having heard something of it, from people's discourse, only love to hear yourself talk. Go! you are a simpleton." "Sir, answered Tieh-chung-u, this is a matter which regards your life: is it possible for a son to jest upon such an occasion?" Then looking round to see, that nobody was within hearing, he related all that had happened on his journey, both the discourse he had had with the old woman, and with Wey-phey, whose petition he shewed him. At this Tieh-u-sheh became joyful, and said, "If it be so, the Emperor will see that I am blameless: there will then be no danger of my suffering death. But is it not to be feared, that this Tab-quay has poisoned, or otherwise made away with these people?" Tieh-chung-u answered, "The palace where he resides, is the Emperor's gift, which no one can enter: your adversary is a wicked man, and of very mean understanding; wholly addicted to pleasure, and immersed in luxury, he thinks of nothing farther: imagining himself secure, he neither suspects any danger, nor has contrivance enough to prevent it: be not therefore, Sir, cast down or sorrowful." "Son, said the Mandarine Tieh, you say well: go home now, and fetch some paper and my seal, that I may draw up a petition to the Emperor." "That is already done, said his son, I have here brought it with me: if you like it, let it go: if not, please to draw it up afresh with greater elegance and accuracy." He read it, and pronounced it was very well, and required no alteration: then putting his seal to it, he folded it up, and gave it to the governor of the prison, desiring it might be delivered to a Mandarine of the Emperor's audience chamber, called Tong-ching-fu, whose business it is to receive petitions. CHAP. III. The Mandarine Tieh-u-sheh, was not two days longer in prison, before the Emperor sent him a private answer to his petition. When every body was retired, he opened it, and found an order to go, and apprehend the persons in question: at this he greatly rejoiced, and making an offering of fire, prayed for the Emperor[21]. Then he took the letter, and folded it up again and proposed to his son, to set out both of them upon the search. "Pardon me, Sir, said Tieh-chung-u, that must not be. It will excite suspicion: somebody will acquaint Tab-quay of your being abroad, and we shall be disappointed. Let me rather go privately, and when I have broke open the gates, and found the three persons, do you be ready, mount your horse, and bring with you the Emperor's order, openly proclaiming it to be a power to apprehend them." To this his father assented. By this time the Mandarine of the prison came, and inquired what news? for he saw, that they had been making an offering of fire. Tieh-u-sheh enjoining him secrecy, informed him of the private order he had received. He then said to his son, "Now go, but be very careful." The youth accordingly withdrew, and went to tell his mother all that had happened. He then asked her for his brazen mace, weighing twenty catty[22]: which although so heavy, he had been able to manage at eleven or twelve years old, but his parents had taken it from him, lest he should do mischief with it. His mother was surprized at his demand, and said, "Your father ordered me to lay it up, and never give it you: why do you ask for it?" "I am going, replied Tieh-chung-u, to the den of a tiger: if I have not that with me, how shall I defend myself?" When he had received it, he asked for wine, and drank till he made his heart glad: after which, he put on his soldier's habit, and his other dress over it; then ordered a white horse to be got ready, which he mounted, commanding twenty servants of the house to come after him at a distance, but Siow-tan to follow him near. This done, he rode softly on, 'till he was got without the gate of the city: then he set out full speed, till he came to a splendid palace. Here he stopped and alighted. Walking about a little, he came to a court, with three gates, very strong and lofty, and curiously wrought: over the middlemost of these, were inscribed the three characters, Yang-bien-tang, or the name of the palace. These gates he perceived to be too strong, and too closely shut, for him possibly to open them: but he imagined there must be another entrance besides this to so magnificent a building: and looking round, in an alley he discovered a little gate painted red; over which was this inscription: BY THE EMPEROR'S ORDER, NO ONE CAN SO MUCH AS LOOK IN HERE, UNDER PAIN OF SEVERE PUNISHMENT. Tieh-chung-u finding a crack in the door, peeped through, and saw a great many servants waiting within, and whispering to one another. He then withdrew as softly as he could to his servant and taking off his upper coat, which covered his soldier's dress, and grasping at the same time his arms, mounted his horse; appearing with all the glory of an hero, or rather an angel[23], in the beauty and gracefulness of his person, and brightness of his arms. "Go now, said he to Siow-tan, and acquaint the servants that are behind to come up: afterwards you shall go to the great Mandarine your master in the prison, and desire him to come presently." Then riding up to the red gate, and there dismounting, he knocked, and called out, saying, "I come here by the Emperor's order, and must speak with the Mandarine Tab-quay; acquaint him with it immediately." The servants answered roughly, "Our master is not here, he is at his palace in the city." "'Tis false, said he, he is here in the house: ye slaves, do ye mean to oppose the commands of the Emperor?" They stood silent. "Open the door, proceeded he, without delay." One of the servants answered, "As our master is not here, who dares open the door? And if it were open, who dares enter, in defiance of the Emperor's order to the contrary?" Tieh-chung-u in a rage answered, "I have the Emperor's order; if you don't open the door, I shall open it myself." Then lifting up his foot against the gate, and striking the lock with his brazen mace, at one blow he burst it open; this done, he entered, notwithstanding all the resistance of the Mandarine's people. Upon this, some of them ran to acquaint their master, who was employed in examining and punishing the old people, each of them apart, for refusing him their daughter: remonstrating, that it was in his power to make them amends; and that as they were poor, it was foolish obstinacy not to comply with his desires. Poor as they were, they replied, they could not consent to things so unreasonable. "I am a Doctor of the law, said the old man, though of the second degree, and of no mean extraction; and had rather live in indigence, than act so unworthily: your riches will have no effect upon me." Tab-quay grew outrageous at this, and commanded him to be stripped naked, and bound, in order to be whipped. At this instant four or five of his people came running in, who cried out, "Bad news! a very bad affair has happened!" He inquired what. They told him, a very bold young man had forced open the door, under pretence of the Emperor's order. By this time, Tieh-chung-u was advanced as far as the great hall: at which Tab-quay was greatly surprized, and was going to hide himself: but the other came too suddenly upon him. "Ching-leao, your servant Sir, said the youth as he came forward: I am come here by the Emperor's order, to speak with you: why are you denied to me?" "If you have such an order, said the other, why did not you advise me of it before-hand, instead of forcing your way in, with so much noise, impertinence, and insult?" Tieh-chung-u answered, that his order was private, and admitted of no previous notice. Then advancing, with one hand he seized him, and with the other his sword: asking him at the same time, if the Emperor did not give this, for a house of retirement and pleasure, and not for a place to administer public justice: and if so, why was that person stripped naked, and bound? "That man, said he, is my servant, and neither public justice, nor the Emperor, are concerned in what I do to him." "I am not his servant, cry'd the old man, I am a Doctor of law, and independent of him." "If you are a Doctor, said Tieh-chung-u, how came you to be chastised here in this manner? what is your name?" He replied, "Han-yuen." "If your name is Han-yuen, when the Emperor's order came out for your appearance, why did you conceal yourself?" Then looking back, he gave a signal to Siow-tan to call in his servants: "Here, said he to them, take that old man into custody, he is a person under cognizance of the Emperor's tribunal." Tieh-chung-u then renewed his question, why he came there? "I was forced here, answered he, on account of my daughter: and had no more power to resist, than a kid has to withstand a tiger[24]. If you had not come as you did, I know not whether I should have been alive by this time." He then asked him, "Is your daughter here, or your wife?" he answered, "My wife is in an adjoining room; my daughter also is within: she every day persists in her refusal of Tab-quay, and would rather die by her own hands than submit: so that I know not, whether she be dead or alive." Tieh-chung-u at this was deeply affected, and sent his people instantly to secure the mother and daughter. This alarmed Tab-quay, who began to bluster: "How dare you, said he, violate this place, by breaking open the doors, and laying hands on the owner. If I have done amiss, you ought to produce the Emperor's order: without it, you are guilty of an unpardonable outrage." This said, he endeavoured, but in vain, to force away his hand. He then called out to his people, to come and assist him: but Tieh-chung-u bade them do it at their peril: "Who will dare to offer violence to me, who act under the Emperor's authority? who will lay hands on me?" So saying, he took their master by the girdle, and swung him round, beating down the people, that came to his assistance: until he cried out, "Forbear, forbear; dispute with him no longer." CHAP. IV. It happened, that at this juncture arrived several great Mandarines of Tab-quay's acquaintance, and seeing him in this situation, trembling like a mouse in the paws of a cat, they said to Tieh-chung-u, "This Mandarine is of great rank, and if he has offended, you must not treat him so as to violate his dignity and honour: but let others, or some of us, know the cause of this difference, that matters may be composed between you." "This man, replied the youth, has deceived the Emperor with false testimony, and is guilty of the greatest crimes: what dignity then, what honour is to be regarded?" "If it be so, replied the Mandarines, the Emperor ought to be informed of it; that he may punish them, as he shall think proper: but it becomes not you to treat him thus." "You say well, said Tieh-chung-u, but being all alone, when I entered the house, if I had not secured him, I should have met with ill treatment." "You are very brave and valiant, said the Mandarines; pray did you come hither to-day, in order to revenge any former quarrel; or to assist these old people?" "For neither of these reasons, answered he, but by a private order of the Emperor, to apprehend them as persons concealed in this house." "Why does not that order appear? said they, read it to us." He replied, "You shall see it presently." Tab-quay perceiving so many of his acquaintance near him, began to resume courage; "Do not regard him, he cried out; there is no truth in what he says: he is no officer under the Emperor: he is no way impowered to execute his orders: he is no Mandarine of justice. He is only come with these pretences, to carry off Han-yuen his friend in a lawless manner, together with his wife, and daughter." "If you have not the Emperor's order, said the others turning to Tieh-chung-u, your coming hither to affront this great Mandarine, and thus to violate his honour and dignity, is a crime of the deepest dye. Feats of this kind might have been more safely performed in some distant village: there you might have appeared a valiant fellow. But here, so nigh the city, and limits of the court, to affront a Nobleman, and thus to disgrace his family and rank, is an unpardonable offence: although you had wings, you could not escape. But we must send to the city, for the Mandarines of justice." "That is right, said Tieh-chung-u, let them be called." They were accordingly sent for. Presently arrived the Che-foo, and soon after him, the Che-bien[25]. The Mandarines related to them, what had happened. "We know not, said those Magistrates, on which side lies the truth: if there is the Emperor's order, it must be read." Then the Che-bien commanded a place for a tribunal to be prepared, and when it was ready, the order to be produced. Before answer could be made, notice was given that Tieh-u-sheh was arrived. Tab-quay and all the company were amazed: "This man, said they, is under close confinement: how came he here?" Here Tieh-u-sheh entered, holding before him the Emperor's order rolled in yellow[26]. His son cried out, "Shew respect to the Emperor's order." On this, they all knelt down. Tieh-u-sheh seeing so many Mandarines present, said, "This order I am commissioned to read; but my eyes being weak, Sir, said he, addressing himself to the Che-foo, be pleased to read it." The Che-foo took the order, and read as follows. "This order requires Tieh-u-sheh to go to the house of Tab-quay, and to take into custody, Han-yuen, his wife, and his daughter: which three persons, wheresoever concealed, Tieh-u-sheh is hereby impowered to make search after, and to secure." "This order shall continue in force for three days." When he had done, Tieh-u-sheh, and all the company, made their profound reverence, and rose up. The great Mandarines of Tab-quay's acquaintance departed in silence: leaving only the two Mandarines of the city with them. "These three persons, said Tieh-u-sheh to the Che-bien, are the Emperor's prisoners: to your custody commit them, while I go to acquaint his Majesty of it, and know his farther pleasure." Han-yuen paid the most profound respect to Tieh-u-sheh, and acknowledged that himself, his wife, and daughter, owed their lives to his great piety and justice: but he told them, they must thank the Emperor alone, for their preservation and safety; then turning to the Che-foo, he said, "I have committed these persons to the care of the Che-bien, in order to carry them to a superior tribunal: but as Tab-quay is a great Mandarine, and of grave and respectable character, you, Sir, are desired to attend him alone to the same audience." Then Tieh-u-sheh, attended by his son, returned back to prison, to await the Emperor's further order. He then drew up a petition, to acquaint his Majesty of their whole proceedings: which he graciously received, and returned for answer, "You have done well, and have conducted yourself through this whole business like a true Mandarine of justice: when the affair is ended you shall be promoted to a higher dignity." Orders were then issued out to release him from prison. Tab-quay in the mean time was not idle: he offered presents to the Mandarines of the tribunal: but none of them durst accept any. The depositions of the injured parties lay too strongly against him; and proved beyond all doubt, the forcible seizure they had undergone, and all the other ill usage they had received. The supreme Mandarine of the audience, seeing no other way to bring off his friend, pronounced judgment as follows. "Tab-quay is advanced in years, and is without issue[27]: this induced him to carry away the young woman: but though he brought her home to his house, it does not appear that he ever offered her any dishonour. He is descended from an illustrious family: several of his ancestors have served the Emperor in the capacity of Generals, and have made extensive conquests: he himself hath also had his share, and given signal proofs of his ability and courage. All this considered, as the carrying off this young woman was from the motives above recited, and was not followed by any violence, he is neither guilty of a great offence, nor deserving of very severe punishment: but this must be left to the determination of his Majesty." The Emperor issued out this answer to the proceedings of the audience. "Tab-quay[28] is of an illustrious family; and of a respectable rank; but both these he hath forfeited; he hath made a tyrannical use of his power in forcing away these people: the daughter was already engaged to another; his attempt was therefore the highest injustice: when Tieh-u-sheh delivered in his petition, to secrete them in his house was a contempt of our authority: and to lodge a false accusation against that Mandarine, a great abuse of our confidence. To do justice therefore, 'tis necessary to take away his office: let him also be confined to his house for three years, paying to Han-yuen one year's income of his place: and for the sake of his ancestors, let him be excused any farther punishment. The young woman, let Wey-phey marry. Let Han-yuen be advanced to a higher degree. Let Tieh-u-sheh be promoted to the office of Tu-cha-yuen, or Superior of the Vice-roys. And lastly, for the Mandarine of the audience, who was judge in this cause, let him be amerced three months of his salary." The determination of the Emperor being made public, every body admired Tieh-chung-u, for his wisdom and courage. His fame spread abroad, and he was the general topic of conversation. Mandarines from all parts came to make him visits of congratulation[29]; from morning to night, some or other came to pay him their compliments.
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Chapter 1: In the Phoenix City, a Chivalrous Heart Pities a Pair of LovebirdsModern English translation by Martin Woesler (2025) A poem says: How vast the rivers and mountains, how vast the sky! Ten thousand years upon ten thousand years roll by. The ancients pass, their heirs take up the way — Yet among all men, how few are truly wise and great? And another: In restless sleep we toss and turn, consumed by longing's art; What soul with feeling would not love a maiden fair of heart? But if you shun the peeping tom's ignoble, furtive game, Then you may walk as man and wife, unburdened and without shame.
His father, Tie Ying, was a jinshi [holder of the highest imperial examination degree] by origin, a man of loyalty and rectitude who held the office of imperial censor and had won a formidable reputation for his forthright remonstrances. His mother, née Shi, accompanied his father at his post. Because young Tie Zhongyu was by nature aloof and uncompromising, and fearless in his actions — qualities that might well invite trouble — his parents had kept him at home. His natural talents were extraordinary and his learning surpassed that of his peers, which only made him more disdainful of others. Each day he would shut himself away with his books; and when reading put him in high spirits, he would pour himself a solitary cup of wine to nourish his soul. Though he could not be called a drunkard, he could scarcely do without his wine morning or evening. When his spirits rose still higher, he would wander among flowers and willows, or ramble through the mountains and along the streams. When he was fifteen or sixteen, his parents wished to arrange a marriage for him. He replied: "Your son has never cared for commonplace matches. With friends, if we are compatible we stay together; if not, we part — that is simple enough. But marriage is one of the Five Cardinal Relationships. Once husband and wife are joined, they are bound together for life. If the match is made in haste, and the bride proves unworthy, then to endure her company would wound my nature, yet to cast her aside would wound the moral order. How can such a matter be taken lightly? I humbly beg my honored parents to grant me more time, so that a proper choice may be made." His parents, seeing the sense in his words, let the matter rest, and so it was that as he approached twenty he remained unwed — a circumstance that did not trouble him in the least. One day, while drinking wine and reading at home, he came upon the story of Bi Gan, who remonstrated with his sovereign and was put to death. This set him thinking: "To serve one's lord with loyalty is certainly the righteous path, yet a minister must exercise some measure of tact and prudence. He should be able to enlighten his sovereign above while preserving his own life below — that is what true ability looks like. If one is merely blunt and headstrong, heedless of what may give offense, not only will one's cause go unadvanced, but one will provoke the ruler's wrath, bring disgrace upon the throne, and lose one's life — and what good is loyalty then?" He drank a few more cups and thought further: "My father holds the office of censor, a post on the avenue of remonstrance. He is by nature stiff and unyielding, ignorant of political maneuver — most likely he will come to grief on this account!" Anxiety seized his heart, and he wished he could sprout wings and fly at once to his father's side to dissuade him. Restless and agitated, he paced through the night. At dawn the next day, as soon as the first pale light appeared, he rose and instructed a trusted old servant to look after the household affairs. He had his baggage packed, his horse saddled, and took with him only one attendant — a young page called Xiao Dan — setting out for the capital to pay his respects to his parents. As the saying goes: To die for one's lord — that is the loyal minister's resolve; To worry for one's father — that reveals the filial son's heart. However deep the bonds of human kindness, None run deeper than the Five Cardinal Ties. Tie Zhongyu pressed on toward the capital in haste. After two days of riding, impatience got the better of him: in his eagerness to cover ground, he rode past the last inn without noticing. As dusk gathered and no lodging house appeared, he had no choice but to follow a side road into a village in search of shelter for the night. Looking around, he saw that although the village had many households, they were scattered here and there — one to the east, another to the west — with no proper cluster of dwellings. In his anxiety, he had no time to seek out a substantial household; he simply dismounted at the nearest house by the village entrance and told Xiao Dan to hold the horse. Walking inside, he called out: "Is anyone home?" An old woman emerged. Seeing that Tie Zhongyu was dressed as a scholar, she asked eagerly: "Could it be, young sir, that you have come from the capital to visit Scholar Wei and have lost your way to his house? Is that why you are asking here?" Tie Zhongyu replied: "I have not come to see any Scholar Wei. I am traveling to the capital and walked too far, missing the last inn. I am looking for a place to stay the night." The old woman said: "If it is lodging you need, that is no trouble at all. But ours is a poor household — we have no fine bed to offer, so please do not take offense." "That is of no consequence," said Tie Zhongyu. "As long as I can get through the night, that will be more than enough. I shall be sure to repay your kindness." He called for Xiao Dan to bring in the baggage. The old woman told him to lead the horse around to the back, to a tumbledown shed by the vegetable garden where it could be fed, and she showed Tie Zhongyu into a small thatched room to sit down. Before long she brought out a pot of freshly brewed tea. As Tie Zhongyu drank his tea, he asked: "Just now you guessed I had come from the capital to see a Scholar Wei. Who is this Scholar Wei, and why would people come to see him?" The old woman said: "Ah, sir, you do not know. This place was not always called Wei Village. Years ago, a Secretary Wei rose to high office from here. His clan was the most numerous in the village — six or seven out of every ten households bore the name Wei, and so the place came to be called Wei Village. But fortunes wax and wane: after some years the Wei clan fell into decline. Not only did they grow poor, but their numbers dwindled too. The few families that remained were all farmers or laborers — not a single one who could read. Then, recently, the winds of fortune shifted again, and up sprang a young Scholar Wei — barely sixteen or seventeen — who passed the examinations and became a xiucai. While studying in the capital, he befriended a fellow scholar's family, who took a liking to the boy for his youth and talent and betrothed their daughter to him. But his family was desperately poor, and even after three or four years, he still could not afford to take her as his bride. Then, just days ago, some powerful nobleman spotted his betrothed and, seeing that she was beautiful, determined to take her for himself. When her parents refused, the nobleman flew into a rage, and relying on his official power, sent a mob of men to carry the girl off by force. Word reached Scholar Wei the other day, and in a panic he rushed to the capital to investigate. But not only could he find no trace of his betrothed — her parents had vanished without a trace as well. He wanted to lodge a complaint, but he had no proof and no witnesses; and since his adversary was a great nobleman, how could a poor scholar hope to prevail against him? Today, unable to bear his anguish any longer, he came home and wept bitterly before his mother, then went and threw himself into the Long Brook. His mother was frantic and begged everyone in the village to go after him — my own old husband among them. That is why, when you arrived just now, I assumed you were a friend of his who had heard of his trouble and come to see him." Before she had finished speaking, a great commotion arose outside the gate. They hurried out to look and saw a crowd of villagers escorting a young man in a dark robe who was covering his face and weeping as he passed. The old woman, spotting her husband among them, called out: "We have a guest — you had better come back!" One of the old men heard her and came over. "A guest? What guest?" he said, then caught sight of Tie Zhongyu and asked: "Do you mean this young gentleman?" "Yes," the old woman replied. "He lost his way and needs a place for the night." "Well, if the young gentleman needs lodging," the old man said, "why haven't you gone to prepare supper? What are you standing about gawking at?" "I wasn't gawking on my own account," the old woman protested. "This young gentleman was asking about Scholar Wei's affairs, and so we were both watching. But tell me — if Scholar Wei's betrothed was carried off in broad daylight, surely someone must have seen it. How is it that he searched and searched and could find no trace of her?" The old man said: "Of course there were traces. Of course people saw. But his adversary is a fearsome man — who would dare open his mouth and meddle in such business, only to bring disaster upon himself?" "So no one dares speak up?" the old woman said. "Dare?" said the old man. "Even if they spoke up plainly, there is no way to rescue her from a place like that!" "If that is how things stand," the old woman sighed, "then poor Scholar Wei's life is as good as lost. What a pity! What a pity!" Shaking her head, she went inside to prepare supper. Tie Zhongyu, who had listened to all of this, gave a cold laugh and said: "You country folk — how timid and spineless you are! I suspect no one actually knows where she is, and these are merely empty words of comfort." "What do you mean, no one knows?" said the old man. "Never mind other people — I myself know!" "You know?" said Tie Zhongyu. "Where is she, then?" "Sir, you are a traveler passing through and surely have no interest in meddling in other people's affairs, so there is no harm in telling you. Where do you suppose he has hidden the girl?" "In some nobleman's deep inner chambers, behind locked doors, I would imagine," Tie Zhongyu replied. "If it were merely a nobleman's private quarters," said the old man, "people come and go from such places — it would still be possible to investigate. But listen: his adversary is a hereditary nobleman whose ancestors rendered great military service to the throne. The court awarded him a special estate called the Hall of Leisured Ease, where he might live in comfort — a place that no unauthorized person may enter. The other day, my nephew was in the city selling straw, and with his own eyes he saw the girl being taken inside." "If someone witnessed it," said Tie Zhongyu, "why not inform Scholar Wei so he can go and look for her?" "What use would that be?" said the old man. "Even if Scholar Wei knew, there is nothing he could do about it." "Where is this Hall of Leisured Ease?" asked Tie Zhongyu. "Do you know the way?" "The Hall of Leisured Ease is just outside the Qihua Gate — only a mile or two from the city. Everyone knows where it is. The question is: who would dare go inside?" Having said this, the old man fell silent, for his wife had finished preparing supper and invited Tie Zhongyu to eat. When the meal was done, Tie Zhongyu had Xiao Dan spread out the bedding, and they settled down for a rough night's sleep. The next morning, the old couple prepared breakfast and served it to their guest. Tie Zhongyu told Xiao Dan to weigh out five qian of silver as a parting gift for his hosts, and then led his horse out through the gate. As he was about to mount, the old man called after him with a warning: "Sir! What I told you last night — when you reach the capital, you must not breathe a word of it to anyone, lest it bring trouble down upon us." Tie Zhongyu replied: "What concern is it of mine? Why should I go spreading tales? Rest assured, old fellow." With that, he took his leave and rode out onto the main road. As the verse says: The cunning schemer boasts of his deep plots in vain, For secrets, once revealed, slip out without design. No need to try to hide your deeds from mortal eyes — Above, the sun of Heaven watches all the time. Tie Zhongyu had ridden barely two or three li along the highway when he spotted the young man in the dark robe he had seen the evening before, walking ahead with halting steps, pausing with every stride, and crying out between great sobs: "O Heaven! O Heaven! Why have you let me be wronged so cruelly?" Recognizing him at once, Tie Zhongyu pulled on the reins, spurred his horse forward, leaped down, and clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Brother Wei!" he said. "Do not grieve so. This matter can be set right. Leave everything to me — I guarantee that your precious jade shall be returned to Zhao!" [An allusion to the famous story of Lin Xiangru, who recovered the precious He Shi Bi jade disc and returned it safely to the state of Zhao.] The young man looked up with a start. Seeing before him a figure of unmistakably noble bearing, yet one he did not recognize, he said in bewilderment: "Sir, you are clearly a man of distinction, yet I am but a poor and lowly scholar. We have never met, and I am deep in misfortune — how do you know my name? Your kind words of consolation speak of a generosity as vast as the sky, but my wrongs have piled so high that even if you possessed the chivalrous heart of Jing Ke or the miraculous skills of a Kunlun swordsman, I fear even you could not save me." Tie Zhongyu laughed. "If I cannot resolve so trifling a difficulty for you, then the age of heroes is past and there are no more men of valor in the world! Would that not make Guo Jie himself gnash his teeth in shame?" [Guo Jie was a famous knight-errant of the Han dynasty.] The young man was more astonished than ever. "Sir, you are clearly a man of great virtue and gallantry. Forgive me — in my wretched state, my wits are addled, and I have been unpardonably rude. Pray tell me your honored name and courtesy name, that I may remember your kindness forever." Tie Zhongyu said: "My humble name is of no consequence for now. What I need to know is your full name, and where you are headed today — then I shall explain my plan." The young man said: "My name is Wei Pei, and my courtesy name is Roufu. I have had the misfortune to suffer this outrage — my betrothed seized by force. I want to end my life, yet my widowed mother is still living; I try to bear it in silence, yet we live in an age of enlightened rule, here beneath the very walls of the capital — how can some debauched young nobleman be allowed to abduct another man's betrothed and trample upon the bonds of morality and decency? The injustice is more than I can swallow. I lay awake all night deliberating, and finally composed a formal petition. Today I intend to go to the capital and, staking my miserable life upon it, submit my complaint to every office — the Six Ministries, the Six Offices of Scrutiny, the Thirteen Circuits of Censors. I know that the gulf between rich and poor, high and low, is vast, and that I cannot hope to match him in power. But matters have come to a head, and I have no choice." He drew a petition from his sleeve and handed it to Tie Zhongyu. "One look at this, sir, and you will understand the full measure of my suffering." With that, he burst into loud, anguished weeping. Tie Zhongyu took the petition and read it carefully. He learned that Wei Pei's father-in-law was also a xiucai named Han Yuan, and that the man who had seized his betrothed was the Marquis of Dagua. He said: "This petition is eloquently and movingly written. However, since the case involves a hereditary nobleman, it will be effective only if it reaches the Emperor's own eyes. If you merely submit it to the various offices, the officials will all protect one another — who among them would stick his neck out and take on such a case? If you deliver it yourself, I am afraid you will exhaust yourself for nothing, and it will all come to naught. But if you entrust it to me, I may be able to put it to some special use." Wei Pei bowed deeply. "To receive such compassion from you, sir, is like a withered tree meeting the spring. But it would be wrong for you to bear all the toil while I sit idle. Let me follow at your horse's heels into the city, so that I may be of some service." Tie Zhongyu shook his head. "If you accompany me into the city, it will attract attention and arouse suspicion. Go home and wait. Within ten days, I shall send you good news." "Your kindness, sir, is as high as heaven and as deep as the earth," said Wei Pei. "But I fear that a poor scholar's destiny is too thin, and your noble efforts will be spent in vain." As he spoke, grief overwhelmed him and tears rolled down his cheeks. "Brother Wei!" said Tie Zhongyu. "You are a young man — there is nothing in this world you cannot accomplish. Stop carrying on like a lovesick maiden. Such behavior is enough to make a hero lose heart!" Chastened, Wei Pei brightened and thanked him earnestly. "Your words are a lesson I shall take deeply to heart!" With that, Tie Zhongyu tucked the petition into his sleeve, raised his hands in a parting salute, mounted his horse, and rode off briskly with Xiao Dan at his side. Wei Pei stood by the roadside watching him go, his heart a tumult of astonishment and doubt, joy and gratitude — as though he had wandered through a spring dream and could neither trust it was real nor quite believe it was false. In a daze he watched until the rider's horse vanished from sight, and only then did he turn and trudge slowly home. As the verse says: When the heart is in turmoil, nowhere can it find peace; When sorrow is at its peak, one knows only grief. Do not say that tears are shed for maids alone — Even heroes weep when anguish cuts too deep. Now, from Wei Village to the capital was a distance of no more than forty or fifty li. Tie Zhongyu pressed his horse forward without pause, and by shortly after noon he had reached the city walls. His plan was to show the petition to his father and ask him to first submit a memorial to the throne, so that an imperial warrant could be issued for the arrest of the culprit. But when he arrived at his father's private residence, the gate was deathly quiet — not a single attendant in sight. A chill of foreboding ran through him. He hastily dismounted and strode into the main hall — not a clerk to be seen. Growing more alarmed by the moment, he rushed toward the inner quarters and found the door barred shut. He called out several times, and at last a servant inside recognized his voice, fumbled with the key, and opened the door, crying: "Young master! It is terrible! The other day, the master submitted a memorial that gave offense to the throne, and he has been arrested and thrown into prison! We have been beside ourselves. Your arrival could not be more timely — please, come quickly to the inner chambers to discuss what is to be done!" Tie Zhongyu was thunderstruck. "What memorial did my father submit that could have led to imprisonment?" he demanded, questioning the servant even as he hurried inside, not waiting for an answer. He reached the inner room to find his mother, Lady Shi, who caught sight of him, seized his sleeve, and burst into tears: "My son! You have come just in time! Your father — today he says he must be a loyal minister, tomorrow he says he must be a loyal minister — morning after morning submitting one memorial after another — and now he has brought a great catastrophe down upon us! I do not know whether he will live or die!" Tie Zhongyu, already anxious, saw his mother weeping in a heap and knelt before her, doing his best to comfort her: "Mother, please do not distress yourself. No matter how grave the situation, there must be some way to resolve it. First, please tell me: what was the subject of Father's memorial? What did he say that gave offense to the throne?" Lady Shi helped Tie Zhongyu to his feet and bade him sit, then told him the whole story in detail: "A few days ago, your father was returning home from court when he encountered on the road an elderly couple — a man and wife — beaten bloody, barefoot, their clothes in tatters, who threw themselves before his horse and begged for justice. Your father asked who they were and what wrong they had suffered. The man said he was a xiucai named Han Yuan. He had a daughter who was already betrothed but not yet married. The Marquis of Dagua had learned that the girl was beautiful and sent men to demand her as his concubine. Han Yuan refused, saying she was already pledged to another, and rebuked the marquis's emissaries sharply. The Marquis flew into a rage, mustered his retainers, and without so much as a word of warning, stormed into Han Yuan's house and carried off the girl. Han Yuan had chased after them, trying to stop them, and had been beaten savagely for his trouble. "When your father heard this, his anger flared, and he immediately submitted a memorial impeaching the Marquis of Dagua. Now, if your father had been more careful, having decided to submit the memorial, he should have detained Han Yuan and his wife as witnesses, so that the marquis would have no room for denial. But in the heat of his fury, your father failed to take this precaution. When the imperial edict came down ordering the Ministry of Justice to investigate, that villainous marquis — cunning beyond measure, with money and power at his command — had already seized Han Yuan and his wife and hidden them away, along with the girl, leaving not a trace. When the Ministry of Justice held its hearing, the plaintiffs had vanished. The Marquis then filed a counter-memorial accusing your father of slandering a meritorious nobleman and deceiving the Emperor. The Ministry officials, having been bribed by the marquis, submitted their own memorial supporting the charge. The Emperor was furious and had your father arrested and thrown into prison to await sentencing. The censors and officials of the Thirteen Circuits would have liked to submit memorials in his defense, but with the original complainants missing, they had nothing to work with. What is to be done? I fear some terrible fate awaits him." When Tie Zhongyu had heard her out, his mind settled and a look of relief crossed his face. "Mother, please set your heart at ease," he said. "I had feared Father had touched upon some secret affair of the imperial palace — something impossible to prove or disprove. But this business of Han Yuan is merely a case of abduction by the powerful and concealment of evidence — a petty matter for the local authorities. What is so difficult about that?" Lady Shi said: "Do not underestimate it, my son. The case may be small, but without the missing persons, the charge of deceiving the Emperor stands." "If Father had fabricated a fictitious name and falsely accused an innocent man, that would indeed constitute deception of the Emperor," Tie Zhongyu replied. "But Han Yuan is a registered xiucai. He, his wife, and his daughter are real, living people. The abduction took place in broad daylight before countless witnesses. A censor, whose office is the avenue of remonstrance, reported what he saw with his own eyes — that is the very definition of fulfilling his duty. How can it be called deception?" "Everything you say is perfectly reasonable," Lady Shi sighed. "Do you think your father cannot make the same arguments? But as long as those three people cannot be found, his mouth is stopped and he cannot utter a word in his own defense." "How can they not be found?" said Tie Zhongyu. "Even if they were fugitive criminals who had changed their appearance and fled to the ends of the earth, they would have to be tracked down. And these are three wretched, wronged souls — weeping and helpless, unable to take a single step on their own. They are merely hidden away right here under the shadow of the capital. How hard can it be to find them? What is more, I already know where they are. I guarantee they can be seized at once. Please, Mother, put your mind at rest." "Is this truly so?" Lady Shi asked. "How could I dare to lie before my own mother?" Tie Zhongyu said. Lady Shi's face brightened with joy. "If there is indeed some lead, you must eat quickly and then go at once to the prison to inform your father, so that he may be relieved of his anguish." She immediately ordered the servants to prepare a midday meal for Tie Zhongyu. After he had eaten, she helped him change into a plain dark robe and small cap, and was about to send servants with him to the prison. "Wait," said Tie Zhongyu. He went to the study, wrote out a memorial, then asked his mother to fetch his father's official seal, the seal of the imperial censor. He wrapped the seal together with Wei Pei's petition, tucked them into his sleeve, and then, accompanied by servants, set out for the Ministry of Justice prison. As the verse says: In undertaking great affairs, bold courage is not enough; At the decisive moment, all depends upon a careful mind. If hot-blooded bravery alone were counted as true valor, The echo of the hero's name would ring hollow through the ages. When Tie Zhongyu arrived at the prison, the warden, knowing he was the son of Censor Tie, hastened to receive him and led him to a small private chamber. "Your honorable father is inside," he said. "You may enter and see him. As you may have confidential matters to discuss, I shall not presume to intrude." Tie Zhongyu thanked him and stepped inside. There he found his father, unshackled, sitting bolt upright with perfect composure. He immediately went forward and performed four deep bows, saying: "Your unworthy son Zhongyu has been remiss in his filial duties for far too long. The fault is deeply mine." Censor Tie looked up in surprise and rose to his feet. "This is a place where I serve my sovereign and my country," he said sternly. "You should be at home attending to your studies. What are you doing here?" "Father, if you are serving your sovereign and thinking of your country," Tie Zhongyu replied, "then when your son hears that his father is in trouble, how could he not come?" Censor Tie considered this and said slowly: "Your coming shows filial devotion, I grant you that. But the affairs of state are manifold and complex. I am a censor — forthright speech is my duty. Whether the throne heeds my words or not, whether I live or die, rests with the court. Your presence here can change nothing." Tie Zhongyu said: "It is true that a censor's duty is to speak his mind. But he should also judge what may be said and what may not, so as to ensure that his words achieve their purpose. If one speaks without regard for consequences, taking blunt outspokenness alone as the measure of diligence, then one is merely a man who does not understand the larger picture and cannot adapt to circumstances — seizing on rumors and clamoring before the sovereign merely to burnish one's own reputation. Surely that was never the court's intention in establishing the office of censor?" Censor Tie sighed. "When a censor speaks, he naturally hopes to accomplish something. Who could have foreseen the villain's cunning stratagems? In this case of mine, I personally encountered Han Yuan and his wife crying out for justice, and only then did I submit my memorial. How was I to know that when the imperial edict ordered the Ministry to make arrests, the treacherous marquis would have already spirited Han Yuan and his wife away, leaving no trace, so that the charge was turned against me? My intentions were sincere — I was not chasing shadows or deceiving my sovereign. But events took an unforeseen turn. Who could have anticipated it?" "Even if events cannot be anticipated," said Tie Zhongyu, "one should always take precautions. What is done is done and cannot be undone. But now that disaster has befallen you, every moment counts — there is no time to lose, lest new complications arise. How can you, Father, sit calmly in prison and let that villain frame you at his leisure?" "Do you think I sit here willingly?" said Censor Tie. "I have no choice. You speak of acting quickly, but the original complainants have been hidden away without a trace. What am I to act upon?" "What do you mean, without a trace?" said Tie Zhongyu. "It is simply that the Ministry of Justice is in league with the marquis and will not exert itself. Father, you must petition the throne for permission to conduct the search yourself — only then can the matter be resolved." "Petitioning the throne is easy enough," said Censor Tie, "but if I obtain the warrant and still cannot find them, will that not add another charge to my account?" "I have already discovered the whereabouts of Han Yuan, his wife, and his daughter," said Tie Zhongyu. "But because the hiding place is a restricted area, an imperial warrant is needed before any action can be taken." "The Ministry's own searchers came up empty," said Censor Tie, "and I also asked trusted colleagues to send skilled investigators in every direction — all without a single lead. You have only just arrived in the capital. How could you possibly have reliable information? Is this not the reckless talk of a young man?" "This concerns our family's very survival," said Tie Zhongyu. "How could I speak recklessly?" Seeing that no one was within earshot, he lowered his voice and told his father the whole story — his encounter with Wei Pei, the old villager's account — every detail. Then he produced Wei Pei's petition and handed it to Censor Tie. Censor Tie read it and his face lit up with joy. "With this petition in hand, even if Han Yuan and his wife and daughter cannot be found, the case is no longer a mere phantom — at the very least, it can mitigate the charge that I spoke without grounds. But I still have one doubt about the alleged hiding place." "It is a restricted imperial estate," said Tie Zhongyu. "It is the perfect hiding place. What doubt can Father have?" "My concern," said Censor Tie, "is that the marquis, seeing the noose tighten, may kill all three of them to destroy the evidence." "The Marquis of Dagua may be villainous," said Tie Zhongyu, "but he is at bottom nothing more than a dissolute pleasure-seeker who relies on his title to bully others. He is unlikely to have the ruthlessness to commit murder. Besides, he covets the girl for her beauty — he cannot bear to part with her. He has his restricted estate to hide her in, the Ministry officials to shield him, and now your imprisonment to reassure him. With no pressing danger, why would he resort to killing? Father, please set your mind at rest." Censor Tie reflected for a moment. "Your reasoning is sound. Very well — matters have come to a head, and I have no choice but to follow your plan. Let me draft a memorial now. Go home, fetch my official seal, and bring it here so I can affix it and submit the document." "There is no need for Father to trouble himself," said Tie Zhongyu. "I have already drafted the memorial and brought the seal with me. If Father finds it acceptable as written, it can be submitted at once." He drew the document from his sleeve and handed it over. Censor Tie unfolded it and read: "Your servant, Tie Ying, Investigating Censor of the Henan Circuit, presently a prisoner under criminal charge, humbly memorializes the Throne. Subject: In the absence of any means to vindicate his solitary loyalty, your servant begs the imperial grace of a decree permitting him to conduct the search himself, so as to clear his name. "It is commonly held that when the Son of Heaven seeks out the eyes and ears of his realm, this exemplifies the sage virtue of a sovereign; and that when humble subjects offer their counsel, this manifests the devoted heart of a loyal minister. Thus the office of censor has always been permitted to report even upon hearsay — how much less should a censor be punished for reporting verified facts presented in person. "Your servant's previous impeachment of the Marquis of Dagua, Sha Li, for the brazen daylight abduction of the betrothed daughter of the xiucai Han Yuan to make her his concubine, concerned an act that morality cannot tolerate and the law must punish. When the imperial edict ordered the Ministry of Justice to investigate, your servant believed that morality would be upheld and the law enforced. "Alas, the treacherous marquis, cunning as a demon, secretly concealed the plaintiffs to deceive Heaven itself. And the Ministry officials, lawless and partial, openly released the criminal to perpetuate his evil and instead cast your servant into chains. Your servant, whose integrity is his only possession, knows not how to dissemble. "Your servant's loyal heart is known to Heaven alone. In desperation, he can only implore his sagacious Sovereign: may it please Your Majesty, in compassion for an honest minister falsely accused, to issue a decree permitting your servant to conduct the search himself. If by morning your servant has received the decree and by evening has found no one, then your servant will accept ten thousand deaths without complaint. But if the missing persons are found, then right and wrong, truth and falsehood, will be self-evident without further argument. "Should Your Majesty in your celestial mercy deign to grant this request, your servant humbly begs that the matter be kept in strictest secrecy, lest the treacherous marquis move his captives to another hiding place. Furthermore, your servant begs that the decree authorize searches regardless of whether the premises are restricted imperial property, so that your servant may act with a free hand. "Prostrate before the Throne, your servant awaits the imperial decision with the utmost urgency and trepidation! Appended hereto: one petition from Wei Pei, submitted for the imperial inspection as corroborating evidence." When Censor Tie had finished reading, he exclaimed with delight: "This memorial is incisive, thorough, and perfectly captures my meaning. There is nothing to change." He sealed it at once and asked the prison warden to convey it for submission through the Office of Transmission. The warden dared not refuse and took charge of the document. And so it was that because of this one memorial: The jade cage was shattered, and the golden lock was sprung! As for Censor Tie's memorial and how the Emperor would respond — that shall be told in the next chapter. |