Chapter 38: Chen Shou Shakes the Capital (5k)

After the young master Ruan Gong departed, the chrysanthemums Liu Xian had transplanted finally bloomed on this particular day. Their intricate, yellowish-white petals intertwined, resembling both downy feathers drifting in the wind at any moment and the delicate, yearning fingers of an infant. Though unremarkable at close range, from a distance they formed a finely stitched tapestry of breathtaking beauty, exuding a distant, formless fragrance.

As Liu Xian inhaled this sweet scent and listened to the undulating, overlapping rustle of the forest waves across the hills, his mind felt as tranquil as the ocean. Only after a long while did he realize that the chirping of cicadas and frogs had vanished sometime ago. Geese flew southward, leaves took on aged hues, and the crisp autumn had arrived.

To living things, autumn mostly signifies decline, but to mortals, it brings the harvest. Even Liu Xian felt this sentiment, discovering with pleasant surprise that a patch of red-fruited trees on the northern side of his thatched hut was now laden with cyan and crimson fruits. Seized by a sudden impulse, Liu Xian plucked seven or eight of them to boil along with his tea leaves, and a rich, fruity aroma instantly pervaded the front of the hut.

Just as he raised his tea spoon to ladle the brew for himself, he inadvertently caught some sounds from the northern direction. Looking up, he saw a bay horse with a pale yellowish coat approaching proudly. Atop the horse sat a person wearing a yellowish-green headscarf and a plain white Confucian robe, with two bulging large bags hanging from the saddle behind him, clearly filled with books. When Liu Xian caught sight of him, the rider was looking at Liu Xian with a smile, leaving Liu Xian momentarily stunned.

That person was none other than his teacher, Chen Shou.

Having not seen each other for five years, Chen Shou had changed greatly. Before heading south, he was an ordinary, slightly frail Confucian scholar with short whiskers and a slender frame. Upon his return now, Chen Shou's face was covered in a thick beard, his sideburns were frosted with white, and from his skin to his posture he appeared aged. Combined with the dust of travel on his clothes and the mud splatters on his saddle, he exuded an even deeper sense of worldly vicissitudes. Yet his spirit was exceptionally vibrant, his eyes piercing and bright, his posture erect, and every gesture brimming with uplifted confidence and vigor.

After their long separation, meeting again brought a mix of surprise and joy. Chen Shou dismounted in a fluid motion, while Liu Xian hurried forward to welcome him, inviting his teacher to sit on a rush mat before handing him a cup of the freshly boiled fruit tea.

Seeing that Liu Xian had shed his childishness and grown much taller, Chen Shou could not suppress his joy. Disregarding the scalding heat of the tea, he took a gulp right into his mouth. It was unbearably hot, yet reluctant to spit it out, he held it in his mouth until his tongue went numb.

Chen Shou thought to himself inwardly: "Though it has been several years since we last met, Piji—ah, I should call him Huaichong now—has already grown into a spirited and dashing young man."

Liu Xian was also closely studying his teacher. It seemed as though they had a heart full of words, yet neither knew where to begin, plunging them into a brief silence. Outside, the autumn wind swept through the chrysanthemum clusters, and the secluded floral fragrance drifted past. Chen Shou spoke: "I have already heard about your mother's affairs. Fortune plays with mortals; you must remain strong and not disappoint her wishes." After Liu Xian nodded in acknowledgment, Chen Shou turned to his own affairs: "This time upon my return, I likely will not leave Luoyang again."

With this, he shifted the topic to his observations in the south, smiling as he said, "Having traveled south for five years, I have met numerous illustrious families and masters, which truly opened my eyes."

"How so?"

"I originally thought the Central Plains were preeminent in poetry and prose, enough to be the greatest for generations, yet unexpectedly, Jiangnan also boasts prodigious talents who, at a tender age, are already worthy of being called masters of literature!"

Curious, Liu Xian asked, "Of whom is Teacher speaking?"

Chen Shou replied, "I went to visit Lu Ji, the grandson of Lu Xun. His literary backbone is truly extraordinary and rugged, rivaling Chen Si. It was with the help of his introduction that I was able to scour historical materials across Jiangdong and compile them into volumes!"

"Then how did Teacher's historical work turn out?"

Hearing this question, Chen Shou unbuckled the saddlebags, placed them before Liu Xian, and said with a proud smile, "Come, Huaichong, take a look. These are the sixty volumes of the *Records of the Three Kingdoms* that I have spent fifteen years compiling. I plan to use these books as a stepping stone to knock on doors. What do you think?"

"Oh? Teacher has already completed it?" Liu Xian had assumed his teacher's southern journey was merely for gathering historical materials, and never expected the work to be finished already. This piqued his professional curiosity, and he immediately took the manuscripts to leaf through them.

With Chen Shou keeping him company, the two read and discussed side by side for two days and two nights. After finishing the entire work, Liu Xian could not help but praise sincerely: "Teacher's brush is as powerful as a pillar. In the craft of historical writing, I fear none in the present age can compare. Obtaining a prominent appointment is merely a matter of morning or evening."

Hearing this, Chen Shou burst into hearty laughter, stroking his beard as he smiled, "I shall take your auspicious words for it!"

Liu Xian's remark was not out of insincere flattery born of student-teacher affection, but rather a realistic assessment. Ever since he began studying under Chen Shou, the more history books Liu Xian read, the greater his admiration for his teacher grew.

Ever since the collapse of local order at the end of the Han dynasty and the rise of the aristocratic clans, private historical writing had become a fashion among scholars.

Initially, scholarly historiography was fragmented and scattered, consisting either of biographies of one or several figures—such as the men of Wu writing *Biography of Cao Man* or the men of Jing writing *Biographies of Worthies of Lingling*—or simply collections of anecdotes about eccentric figures of an era, such as Wang Can's *Records of Heroes* and Yuan Ye's *Annals of Emperor Xian*. They simply found themselves in a turbulent era plagued by frequent wars and felt an irrepressible urge to record the heroic figures around them.

However, with the emergence of the tripartite division of the Three Kingdoms, scholars felt bewildered by the future political landscape. They were compelled to sift through dusty old scrolls, simultaneously organizing recent history while contrasting it with the history of past dynasties.

Consequently, historical studies advanced by leaps and bounds. By the time Chen Shou completed the *Records of the Three Kingdoms*, successive masterpieces had already been produced, such as Yu Huan's *Weilüe*, Sima Biao's *Continued History of the Han*, Xiahou Zhan's *Book of Wei*, and Yu Pu's *Accounts of Jiangbiao*, alongside Hua Qiao's *Later Book of Han* and Zhang Fan's *Later Annals of Han*. All of these were comprehensive, long-form masterworks complete in structure and ambitious of lasting fame.

Yet despite the multitude of historians, when one closely examined their works, very few could stand shoulder to shoulder with Ban Gu and Sima Qian.

First, most of them used historical texts to vie for literary prestige among themselves and thereby elevate their own political standing, falling far short of the pure motivations behind the early historical writings of Sima Qian and Ban Gu.

Second, the historical talents of these individuals were truly mediocre: either their proportions of detail were inappropriate and excessively verbose, leading to prolonged delays in completion; or they recorded all sorts of ghostly and supernatural anecdotes that could not withstand rigorous scrutiny; or their political stances took precedence, overly catering to the status of contemporary aristocratic families at the expense of textual truth.

In contrast, although Chen Shou also suffered from certain flaws—such as currying favor with the Sima clan, belittling Shu Han, and shielding certain powerful households without entirely escaping the limitations of contemporary politics—even so, his historiographical talent remained indisputably the finest of his era.

Chen Shou was well aware of this himself. Therefore, after conversing all night with Liu Xian, he suddenly proposed a plan to his disciple, smiling as he said, "Huaichong, I intend to invite several literary figures of the capital to jointly critique and evaluate this book. What do you think?"

"Wonderful! Teacher completing this book may be considered a grand event in the literary world. Whom do you plan to invite?"

"There is no need for many people; I primarily intend to invite Yu Huan, Sima Biao, and Xiahou Zhan."

Liu Xian was startled. The three individuals his teacher mentioned were precisely the three most prestigious masters in contemporary literature and historiography:

Yu Huan was an aged and long-renowned historian now over eighty years old. His compiled *Weilüe* spanned over fifty volumes, with dozens of chapters per volume, totaling more than eight million words. Because of its detailed records and refusal to pander to the powerful, it was universally acknowledged as the greatest masterpiece of the past century;

Sima Biao was a member of the current imperial clan, granting him access to massive amounts of previous dynasty archives. He had collected two centuries of Later Han history starting from Emperor Guangwu to compose the *Continued History of the Han*, and even authored the most difficult specialized treatises on institutions, making him an authority on Later Han history;

Xiahou Zhan, on the other hand, was a rising star in the contemporary literary scene. Rich in diction and adept at coining new phrases, he was paired with Pan Yue as the "Twin Jades." Although his new work, the *Book of Wei*, was not yet complete, based on writings such as his *Odes of Zhou* and *Edict to Brothers*, high hopes were pinned upon him.

By inviting these three, Chen Shou was clearly targeting their influence. If these three could endorse the *Records of the Three Kingdoms*, it would mean gaining approval from three generations of the literary and historical world. Of course, this also carried corresponding risks; if any one of them deemed the *Records of the Three Kingdoms* to have fatal flaws, it could utterly ruin Chen Shou's reputation beyond redemption.

Chen Shou was evidently supremely confident. Cradling the book scrolls, he smiled at Liu Xian and said, "After these men have finished reading, I also plan to visit the Zhang residence to pay my respects to Zhang Hua."

"Oh?" After a moment of thought, Liu Xian understood his teacher's intent. Zhang Hua was a favored minister of the current emperor; if he could win his regard, the matter might successfully reach the imperial ears. Given the current emperor's penchant for valuing reputation and scholars, it would likely not be long before his teacher entered the imperial secretariat and council! This was indeed a brilliant stroke that served dual purposes! Liu Xian smiled and said, "Then let me offer Teacher my congratulations in advance!"

"What is there to congratulate in advance?" Chen Shou patted Liu Xian's shoulder, his gaze falling upon the yellow flowers before the cottage, and spoke with unforced composure, "My coming here this time is precisely to have you participate as well."

Liu Xian paused, perplexed: "But student is still in mourning..."

"Aren't you done with the mourning period next month? There is no longer any need for such strictness. Come to my residence; I will specially arrange vegetarian meals for you. Furthermore, you are my only disciple—how could you not be by my side when encountering such a major event?"

Chen Shou earnestly said to Liu Xian, "In another two years, you will enter official service. This is precisely the time to accumulate renown, so that you may attain a higher rank from the *Zhongzheng* adjudicators later on. You should truly pay heed to this."

"Yes..."

Deeply moved, Liu Xian thought that perhaps Heaven was still somewhat kind to him: while it had stripped away certain precious things from him, it also bestowed upon him things others could never obtain.

After a brief packing of his belongings, Liu Xian paid a short farewell visit to his mother's tomb, then moved into Chen Shou's residence. Chen Shou's estate was not large, being a single-courtyard dwelling bought in the southern outskirts of the Luoyang Imperial Academy. That night, Liu Xian laid out a sleeping mat in Chen Shou's bedchamber and went to sleep right there.

Three days later, the guests invited by Chen Shou arrived as promised. Though Chen Shou and Liu Xian had focused on discussing the three scholars, in reality, nearly a hundred bustling literary figures came to visit that day. Some were guests invited by Chen Shou, others were disciples and friends of those guests, and some had simply come drawn by his reputation. As Chen Shou's disciple, Liu Xian stood at the entrance alongside Chen Shou to welcome the arrivals, unexpectedly encountering an entirely unforeseen figure.

When Liu Xian saw the Duke of Juancheng step down from his ox-cart, he was first startled, then immediately stepped forward to support him while asking, "Why has my father-in-law come here?"

The Duke of Juancheng chuckled first and said, "I am, after all, the son of the Prince of Chensi (Cao Zhi). Hearing that there is a grand event in the literary world, how could I be absent?"

He then looked his son-in-law up and down, growing more satisfied the more he inspected him, and praised him saying, "For the past two years, you have observed mourning by the border hills, strictly adhering to funeral rites, and have become a filial son renowned throughout the capital region. I was worried that excessive grief might damage your health, but seeing you again today, you display an increasingly heroic aura."

Liu Xian repeatedly humbled himself, saying, "Father-in-law flatters me. Today I find myself feeling increasingly ignorant instead."

Amidst their exchange of polite pleasantries, another wave of commotion arose among the guests. Liu Xian turned his head to look—it was none other than the highly venerable Elder Yu Huan arriving. Liu Xian hurried to help Cao Zhi and his party find seats before stepping forward to greet the elder.

At that moment, Chen Shou was conversing with Elder Yu Huan: "Come, Elder Yu, please enter and take a seat. Despite your advanced age, you were still willing to endure the hardship of travel to come here—I am deeply grateful. I have already prepared the books, and today I sincerely hope you will not吝stint your instruction and will speak your mind freely."

Elder Yu Huan was already over ninety years old, his entire frame trembling slightly. Yet his demeanor was immensely amiable; the moment they met, he seized Chen Shou's hands, wearing the expression of one who had finally found a kindred spirit, and said, "I have read your *Biographies of the Elders of Yibu* and *Annals of Ancient States*, which may truly be called first-rate literature of our age. Later, hearing no news of you, I assumed you had no taste for officialdom and had returned home to live in seclusion. Hearing a few days ago that you had returned to Luoyang with a new work of fine history, I could not express my joy! We must drain a large cup together!"

Chen Shou had suffered relentless attacks in his early years, and never expected such high praise from Elder Yu Huan. For a moment, he was deeply moved; he tightly grasped Elder Yu Huan's hands and promised, "Then today, after Elder Yu has finished reading, I shall boldly become intoxicated together with you!"

At this, both laughed. By now, everyone who was supposed to come had arrived. Xiahou Zhan and Sima Biao were already seated in the inner chamber, and the company was eagerly straining to catch a glimpse of Chen Shou's historical work. Without further ado, Chen Shou immediately produced the four copied sets of the *Records of the Three Kingdoms*, placing two sets in the courtyard for Liu Xian to distribute among the crowd for shared reading, while keeping two sets in the inner chamber where he personally accompanied the three great masters in their evaluation.

With the books distributed, the commotion in the courtyard gradually subsided, leaving only the whispered murmurs of the crowd reading through the historical annals. Since there were many people and few books in the outer courtyard, two or three individuals often had to share a single volume. Cao Zhi could not be bothered to crowd around for this; while Liu Xian was bringing him tea, he pulled his son-in-law aside and asked, "Huaichong, tell me: what characteristics do you think your teacher's historical work possesses? Can it be considered fine history?"

His question happened to echo the thoughts of many scholars in the outer courtyard, and they involuntarily raised their heads to see how the heir to the Prince of Anle would respond.

Under the gaze of numerous eyes, Liu Xian pondered for a moment and replied, "The essence of my teacher's historical writing lies simply in four words: standard and proper."

"Oh? How so?"

"The difficulty of writing history lies precisely in the multitude of events and complexity of people, making it hard to untangle the threads. For instance, when Elder Yu Huan compiled the *Weilüe*, he wrote with an unswerving brush spanning eight million words—while unquestionably a magnificent work, for outsiders wishing to enter the subject, it inevitably presents a thousand tangled threads without a clear starting point. Conversely, if it is too concise, it risks failing to record historical events clearly, illuminate causes and effects, or serve as a sufficient mirror for later generations.

The reason Ban Gu and Sima Qian are hailed as historical masters, apart from conveying moral principles through literature and expressing profound meanings in subtle words, is precisely because they balanced these two aspects, achieving a balance of detail and substance, style and clarity. Judged by these standards, my teacher's historical writing is concise yet comprehensive, complete in structure, and capable of detailing nearly a century of recent history in a mere three hundred and sixty thousand words. Naturally, it is standard and proper."

"Oh?" A guest closed his volume and asked, "According to the young master, does Chen Gong's historical talent surpass that of Elder Yu?"

This was a pointed and difficult question. Recognizing the questioner as an attendant of Elder Yu Huan, Liu Xian realized the man was indignant at seeing Chen Shou placed above Elder Yu Huan and had thus posed the query.

Yet without flinching, Liu Xian smiled and replied, "What this junior said just now merely referred to differing styles of historical writing. As for the thoroughness of historical materials and the preservation of alternative accounts, I fear even Ban Gu and Sima Qian in the flesh would have to bow before Elder Yu."

The guest was instantly left speechless. Liu Xian had used the man's own weapon against him: the questioner had posed a difficult dilemma to force Liu Xian to retract his praise of Chen Shou over Yu Huan. Instead, Liu Xian sidestepped the attack and offered an equally unadmitted proposition—stating that not only Chen Shou, but even Ban Gu and Sima Qian were inferior to Yu Huan. This left the guest with no graceful way to either agree or disagree.

A low chuckle rippled through the crowd.

The Duke of Juancheng stroked his beard and laughed, "Though it's been a few years, you've become even more sharp-tongued." He then motioned for Liu Xian to sit and remarked to the nearby guest, "Elder Yu is reading inside right now; he is a man of upright character and treats historical inquiry with fairness. No doubt he will soon render an accurate assessment—why must you be in such a hurry?" With that, he pacified the guest.

Yet, truth be told, the gathered company could hardly avoid impatience, for human nature invariably prizes results over processes, and external evaluations over the intrinsic content itself.

Most people anxiously gazed toward the door of the inner chamber, hoping to catch expressions on the masters' faces or overhear fragments of conversation to use as fodder for literary gossip.

Amidst the prolonged waiting of the crowd, evening arrived. The four men had conversed inside the inner chamber for a full three hours, not even pausing during mealtime. Just as most were growing fatigued and drowsy, someone suddenly cried out, "The masters are coming out! They're coming out!"

At this, the crowd instantly perked up, and sure enough, they saw Yu Huan, Sima Biao, Xiahou Zhan, and Chen Shou emerging from the room. Their expressions varied: Yu Huan wore a look of wistful loss, Xiahou Zhan was entirely calm, while only Sima Biao and Chen Shou exchanged cheerful smiles.

The moment for judgment had finally arrived.

Leaning on his crane-headed staff, Elder Yu Huan sighed to Chen Shou, "What a pity, what a pity, Chengzhou! To have written prose to such a degree, yet you did not write treatises and tables! Do you not feel a sense of shame before Ban Gu?" He then turned to address the crowd: "Lacking treatises and tables, though this book is the finest of the contemporary age, it ultimately falls slightly short of the *Book of Han* and the *Records of the Grand Historian*."

The so-called treatises and tables referred to sections like the *Treatise on the Five Elements*, *Treatise on Officials*, *Treatise on Food and Money*, *Table of Feudal Lords*, and *Table of Civil and Military Officials* found in the *Book of Han*.

Though for ordinary readers, imperial annals and individual biographies formed the main body of historical texts, those merely served to understand the figures within history. To comprehensively understand the societal and institutional evolution of a historical period, one had to read the treatises and tables. This demanded that only masters well-versed in historical precedents and possessing deep insight into society would dare to pen such treatises.

Viewed from this perspective, for the *Records of the Three Kingdoms* to be named a work of records yet omit treatises and tables was indeed an undeniable regret.

Yet the prerequisite for demanding such a standard was that the rest of the contents were already beyond reproach. When Elder Yu Huan uttered these words, it amounted to saying that in the creation of annals and biographies, Chen Shou already stood shoulder to shoulder with Ban Gu and Sima Qian!

The assembly exchanged astonished glances. They had originally assumed Liu Xian's remarks were merely flattery of his teacher's reputation, yet here Elder Yu Huan offered the exact same evaluation!

Meanwhile, Sima Biao smiled and said, "Elder Yu need not be so exacting. Having read this *Records of the Three Kingdoms*, even if I had ever written treatises and tables, how could I dare boast of them?" He then turned to request Chen Shou: "I beg Brother Chen to let me copy a set so I may preserve it as a family heirloom."

"Not at all, not at all." Chen Shou immediately smiled and replied, "I still remember when I went to Brother Shaotong's residence to borrow the *Continued History of the Han*, Brother Shaotong grudged nothing and directly allowed me to copy it, which benefited me immensely. How could I not return the favor today?" With that, he instructed Liu Xian, "Huaichong, quickly fetch a set; I wish to present it to Brother Shaotong."

When even Sima Biao offered such unreserved praise, the crowd finally began to murmur among themselves, looking upon the *Records of the Three Kingdoms* with a far more reverent and cautious attitude, while growing all the more curious about Xiahou Zhan's stance and how this young historical master would declare his judgment.

Beneath the gaze of all present, Xiahou Zhan let out a long sigh toward the heavens. Pulling twenty volumes of manuscript pages from his traveling bundle, he said to Chen Shou, "When I heard Chen Gong was compiling history, I originally intended to exchange the few volumes of the *Book of Wei* I had compiled with Chen Gong, as a matter of reciprocal courtesy and gentlemanly friendship. But thinking on it now, my clumsy work is truly not worth mentioning, and I shall not make a fool of myself in public."

With these words, he actually walked over to the brazier used for boiling tea and cast the manuscript pages in his hand straight into the fire. The paper instantly flared into a bright blaze, illuminating the shocked faces of the guests in the courtyard. Then, Xiahou Zhan publicly announced to the assembly: "From this day forth, Xiahou Zhan abandons the compilation of the *Book of Wei*."

On this day, Chen Shou's fame shook the capital.