11
Zhao Bosheng Meets with Emperor Renzong in a Teahouse
A three-inch tongue can be a sword to bring peace to the land;
A five-character poem can be a ladder to the sky.
Those so destined will reach the blue clouds1 in the end,
With vows not to turn back without honors on the exams.
The story goes that during the reign of Song Emperor Renzong [1023–63], there lived a scholar by the name of Zhao Xu, courtesy name Bosheng, in the prefecture of Chengdu in Sichuan. He started studying classical texts at an early age and, after only one glance at The Book of Songs [Shijing], The Book of History [Shujing], The Book of Rites [Liji], and The Book of Music [Yuejing], was able to write essays as fast as his brush-pen could go. An erudite scholar, he learned, to his great joy, that the imperial examinations were soon to be held in the Eastern Capital [present-day Kaifeng]. He went to the main hall of the house and informed his parents of his wish to take the examinations. Both his father, Zhao Lun, courtesy name Wenbao, and his mother, Liu-shi, were from genteel families of long standing and readily gave their consent to his journey to the capital. On the day chosen for his departure, Zhao Xu was getting ready to be on his way, when his father gave him a poem that read,
May you read more classics to fill your mind,
Rather than succumb to the lure of wine.
In spring next year at the peach blossom tide,2
Win first honors and return in triumph.
His mother, Liu-shi, also said to him, “May you win first place in the examinations and fulfill the ambition befitting a worthy man.”
Zhao Xu respectfully took leave of his parents, and, carrying his zither, sword, and cases of books and followed by a servant, he set o for the Eastern Capital. To relatives and friends who accompanied him as far as the south gate of the city, he intoned a poem that he improvised to the tune of “Song of the River Goddess”:
Who in the wineshop is chanting “Weicheng”?3
Thoughts of parting fill my heart with sorrow.
The boat lies at the deserted ferry,
Bestrewn with broken willow branches.4
As you fade into the hazy distance,
The sight of the green mountains pains my heart.
The autumn dew on the lotus petals
Washes off their rouge.
The chill of the doleful wind
Brings on morning frost.
My sword is cold as the autumn waters;
The sadness of parting bedims its rainbow light.
My robe stained with a thousand drops of tears,
When, I ask, will they ever cease to flow?
With that, Zhao Xu took leave of his relatives and friends and set out on his journey, traveling by day and resting by night, stopping only for food and drink when he felt the need. Before many days had passed, he arrived in the Eastern Capital. As he toured the city, what met his eyes were fine houses and stylishly dressed people. It was indeed a thriving and prosperous place. He made his way to the section of town where candidates for the imperial examinations stayed, and found lodging at an inn, where he waited for the examination day. When that day finally came, he duly proceeded to the examination grounds. The three sessions of the examination over, he returned to the inn to await the pronouncement of the list of successful candidates. “I will surely be on the list,” he thought joyfully to himself.
After breakfast the following morning, he went to the teahouse across the street for a cup of tea with some friends who were staying in the same inn. As his eyes fell upon some wooden tablets provided for patrons to write poems on, he took a brush-pen and wrote a lyric poem on the white-washed wall:
With my feet on the ladder to the clouds,
My hands gripping the celestial laurels,
I find my name on the list of honor.
As I approach on horseback high,
My name as zhuangyuan the heralds announce
To rows of jade belts and golden saddles.
The feast5 over, I stroll all over town,
The ambition of a worthy man now fulfilled.
To the one in the phoenix tower6
A much sought-after husband I will be.
Great was his delight when he finished the poem. He and his friends then parted company and returned to their rooms, and there we shall leave them for now.
By the time all the examination papers had been graded, the full assembly of examination officials reported to Emperor Renzong at the morning court session. The emperor said, “As a rule, three candidates are selected to top the list. Who are the top three this year?” Thereupon an examiner presented to him the examination papers of the top three for his inspection.
After reading the first one, the emperor smiled and said to the examiner, “This is an excellent piece of work. What a pity there is a wrongly written character.”
Prostrating himself on the ground, the examiner asked the emperor which character it was.
The emperor continued with a smile, “It is the character wei 唯. Its left radical should be kou 口, but it is written here as si ㄙ.”
The examiner kowtowed again before he said, “The two radicals are interchangeable.”
“What is this man’s name?” asked the emperor. “Where does he come from?” Thereupon the seal over the personal identification section of the paper was removed to reveal that the candidate was Zhao Xu, a native of Chengdu Prefecture of Sichuan, now lodging in the candidates’ quarters of the city. The emperor dispatched a messenger to send for him with all speed.
At the summons, Zhao Xu hastened from the inn and followed the messenger to the court, where he borrowed the blue robe and wooden tablet for officials of the lowest rank before he was led into the presence of the emperor.
After having made his obeisance, he heard the emperor ask, “Where are you from?”
With a kowtow, Zhao Xu answered, “I am from Chengdu Prefecture in Sichuan. I started studying the civil arts at an early age and am now in the capital for the imperial examinations. Fortunate indeed I am at finding myself in Your Majesty’s august presence.”
The emperor continued, “What topic were you given for your composition? How long did you write? How many characters were there?”
With another kowtow, Zhao Xu answered the questions in an orderly fashion, with never a stumble. The emperor secretly marveled at the way the words came trippingly o his tongue like a stream of water. It was too bad, he thought, that such a man should have written a wrong character. He said, “You wrote one character incorrectly in your paper.”
A consternated Zhao Xu threw himself upon the ground and asked, “Which character, may I venture to ask?”
“It is the character wei 唯. Why did you write the radical kou 口 as si ㄙ?”
Zhao Xu answered with another kowtow, “The two radicals are interchangeable.”
The emperor was displeased. Using the four treasures of the scholar’s study7 on his desk, he wrote eight characters. Handing the paper to Zhao Xu, he said, “Take a look. What I wrote are the characters 单單，去吉，吳 矣，呂台. If you say those two radicals are interchangeable, explain to me how the radicals are interchangeable in each of the four pairs.”
Zhao Xu stared at the note for a considerable time without being able to come up with an answer.
“You may now withdraw and go back to your studies,” said the emperor.
A shamefaced Zhao Xu left the imperial court and returned to the inn in great distress.
His friends came to see him and said, “You must be thrilled!” When Zhao Xu told them of what had happened, everyone was aghast. They invited him to the teahouse, hoping to cheer him up over a cup of tea. Suddenly he caught sight of the poem that he had written on the wall the other day. Heaving sigh upon sigh, he took up the four treasures of the scholar’s study and wrote another lyric poem:
My wings were almost ready,
Honors were almost in hand.
My life’s ambition was all but achieved.
The god of spring brought word to the peony,
But for others the royal feast was held.
Because of a single character,
I lost my chance for fame and fortune,
All my hopes dashed by the will of heaven.
For return, I look back to my hometown,
Beyond vast waters and distant hills, three thousand li away.
When the list of successful candidates was posted, he had someone take a look and was told, just as he had expected, that his name was not there. Amid sighs and tears, he decided to stay on in the capital instead of returning home in shame. “Another three years of study would not be to no avail,” he thought. In low spirits, he wrote four lines on the wall of his room:
Song Yu8 was weighed down with grief,
Jiang Yan9 consumed with resentment.
Han Yu10 was thrown into exile,
Su Qin11 shunned in isolation.
To relieve his depression and boredom, he went on to compose another poem. It was a lyric poem to the tune of “Sand of the Silk-Washing Stream”:
Autumn leaves float about in the cold air;
Insects chirp in the boredom of the night.
The sun sets, a man’s shadow across the bridge.
The chrysanthemums still in full bloom
Will soon be crushed by the wintry frost.
This morning’s rainstorm will return as night falls.
Thoughts about his home and his ill-fated search for fame and fortune kept him tossing and turning throughout a wakeful night. He rose and wrote another lyric poem to the tune of “Manifold Little Hills”:
Alone and sleepless I sit by the cold lamp,
Grieving over thoughts of home far away.
Mandarin ducks by the lotus flowers
Bewail their parting in the autumn rain
And shed tears of blood in the evening wind.
Lifting my eyes, I see wild geese flying
And have them send word to the ends of the earth.
Here I am, resolved to stay till next year.
The sorrow of waiting too deep to bear,
The blue carpet is soon drenched with my tears.
Thus he stayed on in the capital. By late autumn, his servant refused to work for him any longer and went home without notifying him. Left all by himself with no money at his disposal, Zhao Xu eked out a living by o ering his services as a scribe to passersby on the street. Feeling miserable in his thin, tattered clothes made of yellow grass,12 which provided poor protection against the bitter west wind, he wrote a lyric poem to the tune of “Partridge Sky”:
Yellow grass clothes can hardly ward off the cold;
Old and worn out, they are the color of ash.
Frayed at the shoulders, tattered at the sleeves,
They cannot stand the nonstop autumn wind.
Barely covered in these tear-stained rags,
I fear the sight of old acquaintances.
Softly the neighbor woman asked me,
“May I have your clothes to make shoe soles with?”
One rainy autumn day, Zhao Xu was sitting in the inn. The clerk o ered him these words of advice: “Scholar, being as poor as you are, why don’t you go across the street to the teahouse and play your flute in exchange for some money? You can make a living that way.” Greatly vexed at this suggestion, Zhao Xu wrote another poem:
A lonesome soul desolate in an inn,
I gather wild herbs for my daily meals.
The bumpkin sees not a great man’s worth,
But asks if I can play the flute.
Time flashed by. At around the third watch one night more than a year later, Emperor Renzong dreamt of a god in a gold cuirass heading straight for the inner quarters of the palace in a cart loaded with nine red suns. He woke up with a start and realized that it was nothing but a dream. The next morning, after the assembly of civil and military officials had withdrawn from the court following the usual ceremonies, the emperor asked Eunuch Miao, director of the Imperial Observatory, “I saw in a dream last night a god in a gold cuirass sitting in a cart that was loaded with nine red suns. What do you make of this dream?”
“Nine suns make up the character xu,”13 said Eunuch Miao. “It is most likely a personal name or the name of some prefecture or county.”
“If it is a personal name,” said the emperor, “I would like to see the man. But how do I go about it? Do a divination for me.”
Eunuch Miao had learned from a man with supernatural powers a most quick and accurate method of divination attributed to Zhuge Liang of the Three Kingdoms period. Right away he did as the emperor bade and said, “Your Majesty will see him today, but only if Your Majesty and I go out into the streets, disguised as plain-robed scholars.”
Accordingly, the emperor took o his royal robe and jade waistband, dressed himself as a white-robed scholar, and, together with Eunuch Miao clad in the same manner, stepped out of the palace and into the streets reserved for the emperor as well as other lanes and alleys of the city.
Before long, there came into view a most impressive multistory wineshop. It was the famous Fan Tower by the east gate of the Eastern Capital. There is a lyric poem to the tune of “Partridge Sky” that bears witness:
The high tower reaches into the sky,
Filled with rare delicacies most divine.
Dismounting, patrons get drunk from the mere aroma,
And lavish fortunes on a single drink.
To attract noble guests and worthy men,
Singing and music add charm to the place.
The tables are spread with delicacies;
Painted eaves stretch over the railings.
Emperor Renzong and Eunuch Miao ascended the stairs to drink some wine and sat down, with the emperor taking the seat of honor. It being the height of summer, the emperor fanned himself with a jade-handled round fan the color of white pears. As he watched the street down below, he rapped the handle of the fan against the railing and accidentally dropped the fan down onto the street. A hurried search on the street turned up nothing. The emperor had Eunuch Miao do another divination and got the answer “The fan will reappear today.” The two finished their wine, paid their bill, and went down the stairs and out onto the streets again.
Their steps took them to the examination candidates’ quarters, where they caught sight of a teahouse. The emperor suggested going in for a cup of tea. They entered and had just sat down when they saw two poems on the white wall written in elegant diction and vigorous calligraphy. Noticing the signature “Zhao Xu, Scholar of Chengdu,” the emperor exclaimed with a start, “This must be our man!” Thereupon Eunuch Miao summoned a waiter and asked, “Who wrote the poems on the wall?”
“It’s a scholar who failed the examinations,” said the waiter. “He’s stranded here because he’s too ashamed to return home.”
Eunuch Miao asked further, “Where is he from? Where is he staying now?”
“He is a native of Chengdu Prefecture in Sichuan and is now lodged at an inn across the street in the examination candidates’ quarters. He makes a living by o ering writing services while waiting for the next round of examinations.”
These words reminded the emperor of what had happened before. He said to Eunuch Miao under his breath, “This man scored first place in the last examination. He has great literary talent but wrote a wrong character. I was annoyed at his refusal to admit his mistake and struck him o the list of successful candidates. I had no idea he would be stranded here like this.” (Those who refuse to admit mistakes can hardly amount to anything, because knowledge is accumulated only through the admission of mistakes.) He then instructed the waiter, “Go and find him for me. I need him to write something for me. I’ll give you a reward when you bring him here.”
The waiter went out, but Zhao Xu was nowhere to be found. The waiter said to himself with a sigh, “This scholar is indeed out of luck. Where on earth can he be?” He returned to the teahouse and reported to the two patrons, “Gentlemen, I can’t find him.”
“We’ll stay a little longer,” said the emperor. “Give us some more tea.” While having tea, they sent the waiter out again to look for the man. The waiter searched the inn and all the wineshops in the neighborhood but to no avail. “This scholar is indeed destined to be poor!” he thought to himself. “He could have made some money from these two gentlemen. Too bad for him!” He went back to the teahouse with the same answer: “I can’t find him.”
The two patrons paid their bill and were about to rise and leave, when the waiter exclaimed, pointing, “There he is!”
“Where?” asked Eunuch Miao.
The waiter pointed at a man in a tattered blue robe approaching the teahouse. Eunuch Miao had the waiter invite him in. The waiter went out and addressed the man, “Scholar Zhao, there are two gentlemen in the teahouse waiting for you. I looked for you twice, but you were nowhere to be found.” With hurried steps, Zhao Xu entered the teahouse.
After an exchange of greetings, he sat down next to Eunuch Miao and the three began drinking tea together.
“Did you write the poems on the wall?”
Zhao Xu answered, “They’re just ridiculous nonsense from this unworthy student.”
“What are you, a native of Chengdu, doing here?” asked the emperor.
“I am too ashamed to return home,” replied Zhao Xu, “because, as bad luck would have it, I failed the examinations.” As he spoke, he began searching in his sleeves.
Eunuch Miao remarked, “What is it in your sleeves, scholar?”
Instead of answering, Zhao Xu took out a white-pear-colored round fan with a jade handle. With both hands, he respectfully showed them the fan. Upon a closer look, Eunuch Miao saw a poem newly written on it:
Boughs twisted, the tree stands in verdant grandeur;
Unknown, the dragon hides itself in the dirt.
Some day, with the advent of the wind and clouds14
A jade beam it will be to support the sky.
“Where did you get this fan?” asked Eunuch Miao.
“I was passing by under the Fan Tower,” answered Zhao Xu, “when it fell from upstairs and planted itself right on my tattered sleeve. As I was called to Prime Minister Wang’s residence to write poems about pine trees, I also wrote this poem on the fan.”
“This fan,” said Eunuch Miao, “belongs to this Mr. Zhao,15 who dropped it while having a drink in the tower.”
“In that case, I’ll be happy to give the fan back to you.”
Immensely pleased, the emperor proceeded to ask why Zhao Xu had failed the examinations, whereupon Zhao answered, “I did pass all three sessions of the examinations, but as it turned out, the emperor read my papers and found one wrongly written character. That is how I ended up here.”
The emperor remarked, “His Majesty lacks good sense.”
“That is not true,” protested Zhao Xu.
“Which character did you write wrong?” asked the emperor.
“It was the character wei 唯. I wrote the radical kou 口 as si 厶. The emperor, with his great learning, pointed out my mistake. I said that the two radicals were interchangeable, whereupon His Majesty wrote the eight characters 单單，去吉，吳 and told me to explain how the radicals were interchangeable in these four pairs. I failed to come up with an answer, and that is how I failed the examinations and came to be stranded here. I have only myself to blame, because I should have known better than to make that mistake. It was not the emperor’s fault.” (Now he’s talking!)
Emperor Renzong then asked, “Since you are from Sichuan, do you happen to know Commissioner Wang?”
“I know him, but he doesn’t know me.”
The emperor continued, “He’s a nephew of mine. I’ll write a letter to him and have someone take you to him to seek a position and get a start in your career. What do you say to that?”
Zhao Xu dropped to his knees and said with deep bows, “If I should indeed receive such help from you two gentlemen, I will never forget your kindness.”
Eunuch Miao suggested, “Why don’t you write a poem as a token of gratitude for Mr. Zhao’s favor?”
Zhao Xu readily consented and wrote these lines:
Jade was hidden in the rock;
Gold was buried in the mud.
A helping hand pulled me up
Onto the ladder leading to the sky.
The emperor was delighted. “Why do you say so?” he asked. “You don’t know yet if my recommendation will work. Let me also write a poem in return.” And this is what he wrote:
He failed the exam over one character,
Became stranded here, his plans disrupted.
A letter from me to the Sichuan region
Will work better than pleas at court.
Zhao Xu’s heart overflowed with gratitude at these lines. Eunuch Miao put in, “Now that Mr. Zhao has written, it is my turn to write you a few lines.” And this is what he wrote:
Your presence here bore out heavenly signs;
But for one word, you’d have won first honors.
This letter sent to Commissioner Wang
Will bring glory to the clan of Zhao.
Eunuch Miao then said, “You may now go back to the inn. Tomorrow morning, I will remind Mr. Zhao to have someone send over the letter and traveling money to you and to accompany you on your journey.”
“Could you tell me where you live so that I can come to express my gratitude?” asked Zhao Xu.
Eunuch Miao declined: “It’s too far from here. Please do not take the trouble.”
Zhao Xu had to content himself with repeated bows of gratitude in the teahouse. The three of them then left the premises and took leave of each other.
The following morning, Zhao Xu rose bright and early and waited until he saw, indeed, the beardless plain-robed scholar coming toward the inn. Following him was an officer carrying a trunk and a parcel, but Mr. Zhao was not with them. Zhao Xu went out of the inn to meet them. After the exchange of greetings, Eunuch Miao said, “Last night, Mr. Zhao followed my advice and entrusted this man with the letter and an ingot of silver worth fifty taels. He is to accompany you on your journey back to Chengdu. The letter is with him. Take good care on the journey.”
Zhao Xu thanked him profusely and asked, “May I ask your name?”
“My name is Miao Xiu. I am a retainer of Mr. Zhao’s. You will find out all the details when you see Commissioner Wang.”
“Should this trip bring me what I seek,” said Zhao Xu, “I will not forget to repay you,” whereupon he intoned a poem and wrote it on a piece of white paper as a souvenir:
I sat for the exam last year but failed;
Next time, my efforts will not be in vain.
Pleas to the prime minister unavailing,
A teahouse chance meeting was a blessing.
A fan from the sky that stuck in my sleeve
Inspired the poem I left in the mansion.
Filled with gratitude for the kind letter,
I depart to serve the commissioner.
Eunuch Miao took the poem, bade him farewell, and returned to where he had come from. Zhao Xu chiseled the ingot of silver into smaller pieces, paid his inn bills, and packed his belongings. Three days later, he set out on his journey.
On the way, they traveled by day and rested by night, stopping only for food and drink when they felt the need. After some days, they found themselves about one hundred li outside Chengdu Prefecture. Word got to them that there was quite a bustling crowd of military men and civilians ahead waiting to greet the new commissioner. Runners had been dispatched to meet him midway. Zhao Xu was alarmed at the news. “I am here to see Commissioner Wang, but he has apparently left his post. Woe is me! What is to be done?” Thereupon he intoned another poem:
Here I am in Sichuan, letter in hand,
But the long journey to find a patron is all in vain.
What a poor return for His Honor’s kindness!
Though nearer to home, I yield to despair.
The officer o ered this advice: “Do not despair yet. Let us first find out what’s really happening.” Zhao Xu dragged his reluctant feet over another twenty-five li until they came upon the pavilion, located about ten li from the city, built for holding ceremonies of greeting or sending o officials. The noisy crowd gathered there, officials included, were complaining about the failure of the new commissioner to show up, even though they had been waiting for three days. The officer accompanying Zhao Xu said, “Scholar, let us go to the pavilion to take a look.”
Zhao Xu declined, “No! I will have no one to turn to if I make a wrong move.”
Over his protests, the officer walked straight up to the pavilion, still carrying the suitcase and the parcels. “Why are you officials still waiting?” he shouted. “The new commissioner is here!”
Much startled, the assembly of officials gathered there exclaimed, “But we don’t see him!” From the parcel, the officer took out an envelope, tore it open and announced, “The new commissioner is none other than this scholar.”
Zhao Xu was also astounded. The officer opened the trunk, from which he extracted a purple robe, a golden belt, an ivory tablet, and a pair of black boots and, putting a gauze cap on himself, began to read aloud the imperial edict. Zhao Xu bowed in gratitude for the imperial edict that granted him the post of commissioner of the fifty-four prefectures of Sichuan.
After the assembly of officials came forward and exchanged greetings with him, he sent someone to look for a comfortable place to stay while waiting for an auspicious day to assume office. Thinking back over what had led to this, he said to himself, “I almost won first honors but for one wrong character. Who would have thought that I was indeed destined to achieve fame and fortune? So the Mr. Zhao I met in the teahouse was, in fact, Emperor Renzong himself.” Truly,
Flowers wither when given too much care;
Willows flourish when left unattended.
Zhao Xu asked the officer, “Who is the plain-robed man who saw me o ?”
“That’s Eunuch Miao, director of the Imperial Observatory. It was he who told me to accompany you here.”
Zhao Xu said to himself, “My undiscerning eyes failed to see Mount Tai!”
On the day chosen for assuming office, he mounted a fine steed with a decorated saddle and, under a three-tiered canopy, set o for his new mansion, preceded by an orderly procession and followed by a retinue of officials. It was indeed a grand sight to see. The ceremony over, he returned home to pay respects to his parents, who went out of the house in great agitation to greet their son amid the bustling commotion. Zhao Xu dismounted the horse, entered the hall, and, in his purple robe, golden belt, and black boots, bowed to his parents, his ivory tablet in hand. His parents asked, “Didn’t you fail the examinations and get stranded in the capital? Why have you been assigned this post? And in your native town, too!”
At Zhao Xu’s account of the whole story, his parents raised their hands to their foreheads in a gesture of joy and said, “By the radiance of the sun and the moon, may you serve the emperor loyally to repay your debt of gratitude.” Zhao Xu wrote a poem to mark the occasion:
Honor and success I should both have won
If not for the sake of a single word.
Hating the surging waves at the Dragon Gate,
Suddenly I hear a bolt of thunder.
His parents were immensely pleased. The entire family rejoiced while friends and relatives came to o er their congratulations. They feasted for quite a few days. The servant who had abandoned him was now accepted back, his disloyalty forgiven. Zhao Xu also wrote a memorial to the court to acknowledge his gratitude for the benevolence of the emperor. From then on, he attended to his duties and responsibilities over all the civilians as well as the military in Sichuan while supporting his parents, who lived with him in his yamen. Indeed, this bears out the saying “When a son is favored by the emperor, the whole family benefits.” There is a poem in evidence: