Worldly men venerate the mouth;

I alone revere the feet.

The mouth stirs up waves;

The feet tread solid ground.

Lowly as they are, they never fail me,

But carry me over thousands of li.

For such service, they get little reward;

With no complaint, they endure the abuse.

With wine I thank you

For all that you’ve gone through.

5

Penniless Ma Zhou Meets His Opportunity through a Woman Selling Pancakes

Our story takes place after Emperor Taizong of the great Tang dynasty ascended the throne and changed the reign title to Zhenguan [627–49]. The emperor, a benevolent and enlightened ruler, enlisted worthy men to serve in his imperial court. A veritable galaxy of talents it was, with the eighteen academicians of the civil administration¹ and the eighteen regional military commanders.² All men with ability and wisdom throughout the land gained office through recommendation and achieved their aspirations to the full. As a result, peace reigned in the empire and the populace lived in contentment.

Of all these men, our story is about a certain Ma Zhou, courtesy name Binwang. He was a native of Chiping in Bozhou Prefecture. Bereaved of both his parents, he was a penniless bachelor in his thirties, living all by himself. Well versed from an early age in the classics and histories, he was an erudite scholar with the highest aspirations and unparalleled knowledge about strategies. His poverty and lack of friends were the only reasons he received no recommendations for office. Indeed, he was not unlike a divine dragon bogged down in mud, unable to soar into the air. (How sad that such is the common fate of all too many worthy men, past and present!) Watching those with far less talent rise to prominence and wealth, he brooded over his failure to gain recognition and sighed every day to himself, “It is all a matter of timing, luck, and fate.” Having a large capacity for wine throughout the years, he spent his hours of depression drinking, stopping only when he had drunk himself into a stupor. He did not mind the uncertainty of his daily meals—wine was the one thing he could not do without. At times when he ran out of money for wine, he would find out which neighbors had wine and go there for a free drink. In his flamboyant and careless way, after drinking he would rant and rave like a demented man. (The wise pity him for his lack of better things to do. The undiscerning question his morals.) None of the neighbors could stand such outbursts of madness and the streams of curses. Behind his back, they called him Penniless Ma Zhou and “the drunkard,” but he did not take these sobriquets to heart in the slightest when they did reach his ears. Truly,

Now, the prefect of Bozhou, named Da Xi, having long heard of Ma Zhou’s reputation as a fine scholar, employed him as prefectural instructor. (This prefect qualifies as one who does not resent the talented.) On the day he arrived to assume the post, as the scholars brought wine for a celebration, Ma Zhou unwittingly took a drop too much. The following day, the prefect made a personal appearance at the college to ask for instruction, only to find him in an inebriated state, unable to stand up on his feet. The prefect stormed out in a rage. Upon waking up and learning that the prefect had been there, Ma Zhou went to the prefectural yamen to apologize. As the prefect lectured him long and hard, Ma Zhou humbly uttered promises to change his ways—promises that he failed to keep. Every time a student came along to ask him questions about the classics, Ma Zhou would keep him for a drink. Even though all of his salary was spent in the wineshops, he still could not have enough and reverted to his old habit of freeloading. Now it was his students whom he imposed himself upon.

One day, tipsy with wine and supported on both sides by two students, he sang all the way back home. (A vivid scene.) By coincidence, halfway down the road, they ran into the procession of the prefect and his entourage. The advance guards sharply ordered him to get out of the way, but he would not hear of it. With dilated eyes, he shot back angry words, only to bring on another burst of rage from the prefect right there on the street. Ma Zhou was too drunk to be aware of much that happened, but after he woke up the following day, his students came to advise him to apologize to the prefect. With a sigh, he said, “Poor and friendless as I am, I submitted myself to the will of others out of wishes for advancement. (Speaking the truth.) Now that I have been humiliated time and again by the prefect for my excessive drinking, how can I face him again and bow deeply to ask for mercy? A worthy man in olden times refused to stoop low for the sake of five piculs of rice,⁴ nor will this position as prefectural instructor hold me here for the rest of my life.” So saying, he handed his robe of office over to the student for him to give it back to the prefect. Then he threw back his head and gave a hearty gu aw before he went out the door. (Like a true hero.) Truly,

As the ancients said, “It is the rapids that make water surge; it is insults that arouse men to action.” Humiliation from the prefect over his drinking made Ma Zhou leave his residence with a sigh. He went to a certain place where he met someone through whose good offices he rose to be the minister of personnel, but this happened later.

To come back to our story, where was he to go? He dismissed the thought of roaming around the country, for lack of opportunities of advancement. The best course of action was to go to Chang’an, capital of the empire, where, among the multitudes of dukes and princes, there might be someone like Prime Minister Xiao He⁵ or Wei Wuzhi,⁶ known for his readiness to recognize and recommend talent. Only then could he be pulled out of his misery and realize the dream of his life. He headed for the west and, before many days had passed, arrived in Xinfeng.

The city of Xinfeng [New Feng] was founded by Emperor Gaozu,⁷ who, a native of Feng, had led an armed uprising, overthrew the Qin empire, conquered Xiang Yu [another contender for the throne], and became the Son of Heaven of the Han dynasty. While living in Chang’an the emperor’s father, honored as the Imperial Patriarch, grew nostalgic for the scenes of his native place. Consequently, the emperor ordered skilled craftsmen to build a new city modeled on Feng and relocated Feng residents to the new city, where the layout of all the streets, marketplaces, and houses was identical to that of Feng, so that even all the chickens and dogs, if left on the streets, could still find their way home. The Imperial Patriarch was immensely delighted and named the city Xinfeng. Chang’an having resumed its status as the capital of the empire in the new dynasty of Tang, Xinfeng also came to life as a bustling and prosperous city this side of the Pass, with goodness knows how many inns and hostels for traveling merchants.

By the time Ma Zhou arrived in Xinfeng, dusk had already set in. He picked a large inn and entered at a leisurely pace. There, for all to see, was a stream of horse carriages stirring up clouds of dust. A great many merchants with boxes of merchandise on their shoulders followed upon each other’s heels into the inn. Mr. Wang the innkeeper greeted his guests, busily assigned them to their rooms, and directed the traffic of luggage carriers while the guests found their way to their seats at the tables. The waiters ran around with their orders for food and wine, as busy as horses on a revolving lantern. Ma Zhou sat all alone by himself, without getting the slightest attention. (Such are the snobbish ways of the world.) In anger, he slapped the table and thundered, “Innkeeper! This is unfair! Am I not also a guest? Why am I not being served?”

Hearing this outburst of anger, Mr. Wang came over to placate him, saying, “Honorable guest, please do not be angry. I had to take care of the big party over there, thinking that since you are all by yourself, your needs should be easily accommodated. Now please tell me what you need for dinner.”

“I haven’t washed my feet all along the way,” said Ma Zhou. “Bring me some clean warm water.”

Mr. Wang said, “The pots are all being used. You’ll have to wait a while for warm water.”

“In that case, bring me some wine first.”

“How much wine?”

Pointing at the party gathered around a large table across from him, Ma Zhou said, “Give me the same amount they ordered.”

“There are five of them, with one jar of fine wine for each.”

“That’s not even enough to get me half drunk. But since I’m cutting down on wine while traveling, just give me five jars, and bring me as many nice dishes as you can carry.”

Mr. Wang had the waiter put on the table five jars of warmed wine, a large porcelain bowl, and several dishes of meat and vegetables. Ma Zhou raised the bowl and drank as if there were no one else present.

After downing three jars of wine, he asked for a washbowl to bathe his feet in and poured into it all the wine that was left. Then, he kicked o his boots, put his feet into the wine, and washed them (Extraordinary), much to the amazement of all the other guests who witnessed the scene. Mr. Wang secretly marveled at the sight and knew that the man was by no means a common sort. A contemporary, Cen Wenben, did a painting titled Ma Zhou Washing His Feet. Zhang Zhihe, a Tang poet who called himself Angler on the Misty Waters, inscribed onto the painting a poem of praise:

That night, he retired to his room without further ado. The following day, Mr. Wang rose bright and early, settled accounts with guests, and sent them on their way. With no money or other valuables about him, Ma Zhou took o his fox-fur coat, for the weather was getting warm, and gave it to Mr. Wang as payment for the wine and food. Impressed by his generosity and overwhelmed by the value of the coat, Mr. Wang adamantly refused to take it, whereupon Ma Zhou asked for a brush-pen and wrote the following poem on the wall:

He finished by signing his name: “Ma Zhou of Chiping.” The poem as well as the calligraphy filled Mr. Wang with admiration and respect. “Where are you going from here, Mr. Ma?” he asked.

“To Chang’an to make a name for myself.”

Mr. Wang asked further, “Do you have any place there to stay?”

“No.”

“With your talent,” continued Mr. Wang, “you will surely be blessed with wealth and rank. But Chang’an is a place where rice costs as much as pearls, and firewood is as expensive as cinnamon. Since you have already exhausted your means, how are you going to support yourself? I have a niece who lives on Longevity Street in Chang’an. She is married to Zhao Sanlang, who sells pancakes. I will write them a letter so that you can stay with them. That would be more convenient than for you to go to other places. I also have here a tael of silver for you to use on the road. Please accept this small o er.”

Ma Zhou accepted the silver with gratitude. Mr. Wang wrote the letter and handed it to Ma Zhou, who thankfully bade him farewell with the promise “I will never forget your graciousness should I ever rise in the world, however insignificantly.”

He made his way to Chang’an and found it to be indeed a bustling, prosperous place of a di erent order than Xinfeng. He headed straight for the Zhao residence on Longevity Street and presented Mr. Wang’s letter. As it turned out, Zhao Sanlang, whose family had been in the pancake business for generations, had died two years before, leaving the store to his widow, who was none other than the niece of Mr. Wang of Xinfeng. Though already in her thirties, she remained a striking beauty, known by local residents as the Pancake Lady. Earlier, when she had just started selling pancakes in the store, Yuan Tiangang the Divine Fortune-Teller had exclaimed in astonishment upon first laying eyes on her, “This woman, with a face like the full moon, lips like red lotuspetals, a clear voice, a refined look, and a straight nose, is meant for a life of distinguished eminence as the wife of an official of the highest rank. Why is she here in this humble place?” By chance, he mentioned this woman one day to Commandant Chang He, who, with deep faith in Yuan Tiangang’s predictions, ordered his valet to visit the store every day under the pretext of buying pancakes and to persuade the woman to be the commandant’s concubine. Madam Wang responded with only a dry smile. Never once did she give any promise. Truly,

The night before Ma Zhou’s arrival, Madam Wang had a strange dream in which a white horse approached her from the east and, in one gulp, ate up all of the pancakes. A whip in hand, she ran after it, but, soon enough, she found herself rising onto the back of the horse, which then changed into a fiery dragon and flew heavenward. Upon waking up in a rush of heat, she wondered at the extraordinary dream.

That same day, she received the letter from her maternal uncle Mr. Wang introducing Ma Zhou. She was intrigued by the fact that the guest was named Ma [horse] and was dressed in white. She kept him in the house and diligently served him three meals a day. Ma Zhou, for his part, took the attentiveness for granted. Not for a moment did he show any appreciation, but Madam Wang did not slacken the slightest bit in her services. However, there were among her neighbors some young rakes who, coveting the pretty widow, would often loiter around her door and make lewd and provocative remarks. Madam Wang never paid them any attention, winning much admiration from all and sundry for her sense of honor. Now that a bachelor from afar was staying with her, rumors started to float around. Being an observant person, Madam Wang was well aware of the gossip. She said to Ma Zhou, “I wish I could keep you longer, but, being a widow, I will incur gossip by doing so. You, sir, have a bright future ahead of you. You’d better look for a place more helpful to your career. It would be a shame for your talent to be wasted here.” (What a sensible woman!)

Ma Zhou replied, “I am more than willing to be of service to someone, only I have nowhere to go.”

Before the words were quite out of his mouth, Commandant Chang’s valet appeared again for pancakes. Madam Wang thought that, being a military official, Chang He must be in need of some assistance from scholars. She therefore asked the valet, “I have a relative named Ma, a truly learned scholar, who is looking for a place to serve. Would your master find some use for him?”

The valet said, “That would be good.”

It so happened that, at the time, a drought was plaguing the empire, and Emperor Taizong had instructed all officials above the fifth rank to submit their opinions and well-considered proposals to remedy the situation. As he was among those solicited for such a memorial, Chang He was about to look for someone of wisdom and knowledge to write it for him. Madam Wang’s recommendation of Scholar Ma was as timely as food for the hungry and drink for the thirsty. It scratched him where he itched, so to speak. At the valet’s report, a greatly delighted Chang He immediately had his men prepare a horse to bring Ma Zhou to him. Thus, Ma Zhou took leave of Madam Wang and went to the residence of Commandant Chang. Ma’s air of distinction filled the commandant with admiration and respect. Wine was set out and the study cleaned up for Ma Zhou to sleep in.

The following day, Chang He went personally into the study and presented him with a gift of twenty taels of silver and ten bolts of colored silk. The commandant then sought his counsel about the emperor’s decree soliciting advice. Ma Zhou asked for a brush-pen and an ink slab and, spreading out a roll of white paper, wrote twenty proposals without so much as a moment’s pause. Chang He heaved sigh upon sigh in admiration. Before the night was out, the text was copied in neat, fine penmanship for submission to the emperor at the court session the following morning. Emperor Taizong found every one of the proposals to his liking and asked Chang He, “Such insightful comments are beyond your capabilities. How did you come by them?”

Chang He threw himself onto the ground and exclaimed, “What I have done is punishable by death! These twenty proposals are indeed beyond the capabilities of an ignorant man like me. They are in fact written by my house guest Ma Zhou.” (Taking no credit for another man’s work, this Chang He is also a man of integrity.)

“Where is this Ma Zhou?” asked the emperor. “Bring him to me quickly.”

Thus ordered, the custodian of the palace gate went straight to Commandant Chang’s residence and summoned Ma Zhou, but he failed to wake the latter up from his wine-induced morning nap. Another imperial decree followed. When the third decree came, Chang He made a personal appearance From this can be seen how Emperor Taizong valued men of talent. There is a poem by a historian that says,

As he stepped into the study, Chang He had a houseboy raise Ma Zhou to his feet and spray cold water on his face. Only then did Ma Zhou wake up. Upon learning about the imperial decrees, he mounted the horse in great haste. Chang He led him to the golden palace and into the presence of the emperor.

After Ma Zhou finished with his obeisance, the emperor asked, “Where are you from? Have you ever held office?”

Ma Zhou answered, “I am a native of Chiping County. I used to be a prefectural instructor in Bozhou. As the job was beneath my capabilities, I resigned and came here for a tour of the capital. It is indeed my great fortune to be able to see Your Royal Countenance.”

Immensely pleased, Emperor Taizong granted him there and then the title of investigating censor and a robe, a tablet, and a belt befitting his official status. In his new attire, Ma Zhou thanked the emperor for his grace and returned to Chang He’s residence to thank him for his recommendation. Chang He had another banquet laid out and served wine in celebration of the occasion.

By night, when the banquet was over, Chang He did not presume to make Ma Zhou, now a man of exalted status, stay overnight in his study. Instead, Chang He had a sedan-chair prepared to send him back to “your relative, Madam Wang’s house.”

Ma Zhou said, “Madam Wang is not related to me in any way. I was staying in her house just as a guest.”

In great astonishment, Chang He asked, “Is the investigating censor not married?”

“No, I’m ashamed to say that I’ve been too poor to marry.”

Chang He said, “Mr. Yuan Tiangang the fortune-teller once predicted that Madam Wang was destined to be the wife of an official of the first rank. I was afraid that she might be your kith and kin, which would be quite an inconvenience. But, since you are not related in any way, you are indeed meant by divine will to be husband and wife. Should it be agreeable to you, I will be most happy to be of service as a go-between.”

Ma Zhou, grateful for Madam Wang’s solicitude, was likewise inclined. “If you could bring about this union,” said he, “I would be most obliged.” That night, Ma Zhou stayed in the Chang residence as before.

The following morning, Ma Zhou and Chang He went again into the presence of the emperor, who was in the very process of dispatching four commanders to lead an army to suppress an uprising by Tartars and Turks. Asked for suggestions as to how best to crush the rebellion, Ma Zhou burst into a flow of eloquence. Nothing he said did not find favor with the emperor (That is because he is in luck), who then promoted him to the position of supervising secretary. Chang He was also rewarded for his recommendation with a hundred bolts of silk.

Chang He left the court after expressing his gratitude to the emperor, and then he ordered his attendants to lead him directly to the pancake shop. There, he asked to see Madam Wang. Believing that the commandant had come to take her by force, Madam Wang hastily hid herself and refused to come out on any account. (Good detail.) Chang He took a seat in the store and sent his valet to find an elderly female neighbor who could pass to Madam Wang a message to the e ect that Commandant Chang was there for the sole purpose of serving as a matchmaker for her and Investigating Censor Ma. Madam Wang learned, after some inquiries, that Investigating Censor Ma was none other than Ma Zhou. Her dream about a white horse changing into a dragon had now come true. Such a marriage bond preordained by heaven was not to be resisted. Upon learning that Madam Wang had given her consent, Chang He o ered as betrothal gifts on Ma Zhou’s behalf the bolts of silk that the emperor had bestowed upon him. He also rented an empty house for Ma Zhou. The wedding ceremony was held on a chosen auspicious day with the entire assembly of court officials attending and o ering congratulations. Indeed,

After the wedding, Madam Wang brought all her belongings to the Ma residence, much to the envy of her neighbors, but this is no concern of ours here.

Let us come back to Ma Zhou, who, since his first audience with Emperor Taizong, kept o ering advice and suggestions, which were all adopted without exception. Within three years’ time, he attained the position of minister of personnel, and Madam Wang was granted the title of Lady.

Having heard about Ma Zhou’s rise to fortune and eminence, Mr. Wang, innkeeper of Xinfeng, made a special trip to Chang’an to visit him as well as his niece. When he came to Longevity Street, he failed to find the pancake shop and assumed that she must have moved away. It was after making inquiries of the neighbors that he learned that his niece had been widowed and had just married Minister Ma. The news sent Mr. Wang into raptures. He betook himself to the minister’s residence, saw Ma Zhou and his wife, and the three of them reminisced about the old days. After staying with the couple for over a month, Mr. Wang took leave of them, whereupon Ma Zhou o ered him a thousand pieces of gold, a gift that Mr. Wang adamantly declined. Ma Zhou said, “The poem that I wrote is still on your wall. How can I ever forget the meal you o ered me, which was worth a thousand pieces of gold?” (At this point, this extraordinary story comes to an end.) Only then did Mr. Wang thankfully accept the gift. He returned to Xinfeng a wealthy man. This is a case of “giving a melon and receiving jade” and “repaying kindness with kindness,” but, of this, no more need be said.

Let us turn our attention back to Prefect Da Xi, who had gone back to his native place to mourn the death of one of his parents. Upon returning to the capital after the expiration of the three-year mourning period and learning that Ma Zhou was now the minister of personnel, he was seized with fear, for he had given the new minister o ense. So frightened was he that he dared not report to the ministry for reappointment. Aware of Da Xi’s predicament, Ma Zhou repeatedly issued invitations to him. Prostrating himself on the floor, Da Xi said, “My eyes failed to recognize Mount Tai. Please forgive me.”

Ma Zhou hastened to raise him to his feet and said, “An instructor in the employment of the prefect should be a paragon of virtue and an example for the students. I was wrong to engage in excessive drinking and wild ranting. You, sir, were not to blame.” That very day, he recommended that Da Xi be made magistrate of the capital. All of the officials in the capital were, to a man, impressed with Ma Zhou’s magnanimity.

Ma Zhou enjoyed wealth and eminence for the rest of his long life, in the companionship of Madam Wang. A later poet had this to say: