On the day after Dong Cheng’s (董承) hem had been spread before Liu Bei’s (劉備) two hands, Cao Cao (曹操) sent a single envoy to Liu Bei’s house, inviting him to his own private garden (別苑).

Liu Bei received the envoy of that invitation. His two eyes sank a little. Guan Yu (關羽) and Zhang Fei (張飛) stood beside him. Guan Yu offered a low remonstrance. “Elder brother. For you to go alone to Cao Cao’s private garden today is a perilous seat. Please, let the two of us go with you.” Liu Bei answered low. “Yunchang (雲長). It is right that today’s seat be one the two of you do not enter. To a seat where General Cao has invited me alone, I must go alone, so that I may watch the grain of General Cao.”

Liu Bei arrived before the gate of the private garden. Within the garden stood a single branch of a green plum (靑梅) tree heavy with plums ripened green. Cao Cao sat beneath that tree at a low table. Upon the table, a single jar of warmed wine (煮酒) simmered low.

Cao Cao laughed low and waved his hand. “Xuande. Today’s green plums have ripened green. These plums and this jar of warmed wine are the grain of today’s seat. Drink a cup.” Liu Bei bowed his head low and sat down.

The two men tilted a cup of warmed wine together. The first cup emptied, and the second was filled. At the grain of the second cup, Cao Cao spoke on low. “Xuande. Whom do you see in today’s all-under-heaven as a man who truly deserves to be called a hero (英雄)?”

Liu Bei swallowed a low silence. His mouth let slip a low word. “Yuan Shu (袁術) of Huainan; Yuan Shao (袁紹) of Jizhou; Liu Biao (劉表) of Jingzhou; Sun Ce (孫策) of Jiangdong; Liu Zhang (劉璋) of Yizhou; Ma Teng (馬騰) of Xiliang; Zhang Lu (張魯) of Hanzhong. These seven men are the heroes of today’s all-under-heaven.”

Cao Cao gave a low smile. With a finger, he pointed at Liu Bei’s face, and then at his own. His mouth let slip a low word. “Xuande. The heroes of all-under-heaven are not those seven men. Only you (君) and I (操), two men.”

In that instant, a single thunder rolled in the sky. Lightning brightened the grain of the garden. The cup of warmed wine inside Liu Bei’s hand tilted lightly. A single drop of wine fell upon the table. Liu Bei bowed his head and said quietly. “General Cao. A single thunder startled my two ears. I am most sorry.”

Cao Cao laughed low and nodded. In his two eyes, a shallow doubt rested a moment and then unwound again into shallowness. “Xuande. One who is startled by a single thunder is no hero. Upon today’s seat of green plums and warmed wine, the grain of a hero has not been laid.”

Liu Bei let slip a low word again. “General Cao. That one who fears a single thunder cannot approach the grain of a hero is, indeed, a reason.” Cao Cao laughed once more, a shade lower. The grain of his doubt, together with a single drop of warmed wine, was laid upon the table, and unwound shallowly.

Later, Liu Bei rose, bowed his head deeply, and took leave through the garden gate. Behind him, Cao Cao lifted the cup that had tilted and wiped the small puddle of wine from the table with a corner of his own sleeve. He did not call a servant to do it. A minister whose own tongue has just named another man a hero in his own house rarely leaves the drop of that naming to a servant. He folded the sleeve and looked once at the green plums. The plums did not fall. The season was not yet.

Outside the gate, Liu Bei walked back along a side street. He did not go straight to his own house. He stopped at a small shop and bought, from an old vendor, a bundle of cloth-wrapped seeds for a kitchen garden. The vendor did not recognize him. Liu Bei paid in copper, took the seeds, and carried them home. Inside his own courtyard, he laid the seeds in a shallow pot beside the door, and that very afternoon began to hoe a small patch of earth at the back wall. Guan Yu watched from the eaves and did not ask. A man who has just escaped being named a hero to his face with his own tongue untaken rarely needs a question. A kitchen garden is a slower answer than any word.

The seventy-eighth evening of Book 3 deepened, quietly, beneath a green plum tree of Cao Cao’s private garden. The three characters Cheongmaeju (靑梅酒, green plums and warmed wine) were planted as a seed: the breath on which a single branch of green plums, a jar of warmed wine, a single thunder, and the grain of a shallow doubt lay at one seat. The grain of waiting of Day 77’s Uidaejo (衣帶詔) had, this evening, been quietly hidden behind the grain of a cup of warmed wine.

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WIA Code 스캐너로 비추면 인터넷 없이 발행 사실과 위·변조 여부를 확인할 수 있습니다.
휴대폰 기본 카메라로 찍으면 스캐너 안내 페이지가 열립니다 — 기사 바로 열기

움직이는 코드는 스트림입니다 — WIA Code 스캐너로 약 44초 비추면 기사 전문(사진 포함)이 폰에 저장되어 인터넷 없이도 읽을 수 있습니다.

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