Cao Rui read it and turned questioningly to his courtiers seeking an explanation. Xin Pi supplied it.
“Sima Yi has no desire to give battle; this memorial is because of the shame put upon the officers by Zhuge Liang's gift. They are all in a rage. He wishes for an edict to pacify them.”
Cao Rui understood and gave to Xin Pi an authority flag and sent him to the River Wei camp to make known that it was the Emperor's command not to fight.
Sima Yi received the messenger with all respect, and it was given out that any future reference to offering battle would be taken as disobedience to the Emperor's especial command in the edict.
The officers could but obey.
Sima Yi said to Xin Pi, “Noble Sir, you interpreted my own desire correctly.”
It was thenceforward understood that Sima Yi was forbidden to give battle.
When it was told to Zhuge Liang, he said, “This is only Sima Yi's method of pacifying his army. He has never had any intention of fighting and requested the edict to justify his strategy. It is well known that a general in the field takes no command from any person, not even his own king. Is it likely that he would send a thousand miles to ask permission to fight if that was all he needed? The officers were bitter, and so Sima Yi got the Emperor to assist him in maintaining discipline. All this is meant to slacken our soldiers.”
Just at this time Fei Yi came. He was called in to see the Prime Minister, and Zhuge Liang asked the reason for his coming.
He replied, “The Ruler of Wei, Cao Rui, hearing that Wu has invaded his country at three points, has led a great army to Hefei and sent three other armies under Man Chong, Tian Du, and Liu Shao, to oppose the invaders. The stores and fight-material of Wu have been burned, and the army of Wu have fallen victims to sickness. A letter from Lu Xun containing a scheme of attack fell into the hands of the enemy, and the Ruler of Wu has marched back into his own country.”
Zhuge Liang listened to the end; then, without a word, he fell in a swoon. He recovered after a time, but he was broken.
He said, “My mind is all in confusion. This is a return of my old illness, and I am doomed.”
Ill as he was, Zhuge Liang that night went forth from his tent to scan the heavens and study the stars. They filled him with fear.
He returned and said to Jiang Wei, “My life may end at any moment.”
“Why do you say such a thing?”
“Just now in the Triumvirate constellation the Guest Star was twice as bright as usual, while the Host Star was darkened; the supporting stars were also obscure. With such an aspect I know my fate.”
“If the aspect be as malignant as you say, why not pray in order to avert it?” replied Jiang Wei.
“I am in the habit of praying,” replied Zhuge Liang, “but I know not the will of God. However, prepare me forty-nine guards and let each have a black flag. Dress them in black and place them outside my tent. Then will I from within my tent invoke the Seven Stars of the North. If my master-lamp remain alight for seven days, then is my life to be prolonged for twelve years. If the lamp goes out, then I am to die. Keep all idlers away from the tent and let a couple of guards bring me what is necessary.”
Jiang Wei prepared as directed. It was then the eighth month, mid-autumn, and the Milky Way was brilliant with scattered jade. The air was perfectly calm, and no sound was heard.
The forty-nine men were brought up and spaced out to guard the tent, while within Zhuge Liang prepared incense and offerings. On the floor of the tent he arranged seven lamps, and, outside these, forty-nine smaller lamps. In the midst he placed the lamp of his own fate.
This done, he prayed:
