“Your Majesty is pleased to joke with thy servant,” said Dong Cheng, rather startled at the question. “Who does not know the deeds of the Sacred Ancestor? He began life as a minor official in Sishang. There gripping his sword, he slew a white serpent, the beginning of his struggle for the right. Speedily he mastered the empire; in three years had destroyed Qin and, in five, also Chu. Thus he set up a dynasty that shall endure forever!”
“Such heroic forefathers! Such weakling descendants! How sad it is!” said the Emperor.
Pointing to the portraits right and left, he continued, “Are not these two Zhang Liang, Lord of Liu, and Xiao He, Lord of Cuo?”
“Certainly. The Supreme Ancestor was greatly assisted by these two.”
The Emperor glanced right and left. His attendants were rather far away. Then he whispered to Dong Cheng, “You, like these two, must stand by me.”
“My poor services are of no worth; I do not compare with those men,” said the Uncle.
“I remember that you saved me at the western capital, Changan. I have never forgotten, and I could never reward you properly.”
Then pointing to his own robe, the Emperor continued, “You must wear this robe of mine, girded with my own girdle, and it will be as though you are always near your Emperor.”
Dong Cheng bowed his gratitude while the Emperor, taking off the robe, presented it to his faithful minister. At the same time he whispered, “Examine it closely when you get home, and help your Emperor carry out his intention.”
Dong Cheng understood. He put on the robe and the girdle, took leave and left the chamber.
The news of the audience for Dong Cheng had been taken to the Prime Minister, who at once went to the Palace and arrived as Dong Cheng was passing out at the Donghua Gate. They met face to face, and Dong Cheng could in nowise avoid him. Dong Cheng went to the side of the road and made his obeisance.
“Where are you from, State Uncle?” asked Cao Cao.
“His Majesty summoned me into the Palace and has given me this robe and beautiful girdle.”
“Why did he give you these?”
“He had not forgotten that I saved his life in the old days.”
“Take it off and let me see it.”
Dong Cheng who knew that a secret decree was hidden away somewhere in the garments was afraid Cao Cao would notice a breach somewhere in the material, so he hesitated and did not obey. But Cao Cao called his guards, and they took off the girdle. Then Cao Cao looked it over carefully.
“It certainly is a very handsome girdle,” said he. “Now take off the robe and let me look at that.”
Dong Cheng's heart was melting with fear, but he dared not disobey. So he handed over the robe. Cao Cao took it and held it up against the sun with his own hand and minutely examined every part of it. When he had done this, he put it on, girded it with the girdle and turning to his attendants said, “How is it for length?”
“Beautiful!” they chorused.
Turning to Dong Cheng, he said, “Will you give these to me?”
“My Prince's presents to me I dare not give to another. Let me give you another robe in its stead,” said Dong Cheng.
“Is there not some intrigue connected with these presents? I am sure there is,” said Cao Cao.
“How could I dare?” said Dong Cheng, trembling. “If you are so set upon it, then I must give it up.”
“How could I take away what your Prince has given you? It was all a joke,” said the Prime Minister.
Cao Cao returned both robe and girdle, and their owner made the best of his way home. When night came and he was alone in his library, he took out the robe and looked over every inch of it most carefully. He found nothing.
“He gave me a robe and a girdle and bade me look at them carefully. That means there is something to be looked for but I can find no trace of it. What does it mean?” he soliloquized.
Then he lifted the girdle and examined that. The jade plates were carved into the semblance of small dragons interlaced among flowers. The lining was of purple silk. All was sewn together most carefully and neatly, and he could find nothing out of the common. He was puzzled. He laid the belt on the table. Presently he picked it up and looked at it again. He spent long hours over it but in vain. He leaned over on the small table, his head resting on his hands and was almost asleep, when a candle snuff fell down upon the girdle and burned a hole in the lining. He hastily shook it off, but the mischief was done: a small hole had been burned in the silken lining, and through this there appeared something white with blood red marks. He hastily ripped it open and drew out the decree written by the hand of the Emperor himself in characters of blood. It read:
