[Three Kingdoms 365 · Day 160] The Scholar’s Blade — Sun Quan and Zhuge Liang meet; decision deferred to morning

Sun Quan (孫權), who had been listening to the morning's tongue battle from a room outside the hall, at last opened the door and entered. His steps were quiet — the kind that do not sound upon the wooden floor.

The eleven officials bowed their heads toward Sun Quan. Kongming (孔明) rose from his seat and offered his greeting. Sun Quan walked, step by step, toward the highest seat at the east of the hall.

Before the high seat stood a table. Upon its corner lay a blade, sheathed at an angle. It was a relic of Sun Quan's father, Sun Jian (孫堅). Whenever the sovereign of Jiangdong sat at the seat of decision, that blade was placed upon the corner of the table. This was the etiquette of Jiangdong.

Sun Quan sat down upon the high seat. His right hand settled quietly upon the table. His fingertip rested a hand's-breadth before the handle of the blade. Inside that hand's-breadth, between fingertip and handle, the morning's decision was resting.

Kongming sat down again. Upon his knees rested a fan. Its tip pointed not toward the floor, but toward the air at the center of the hall.

Sun Quan's gaze lingered for a while upon Kongming's fan, then crossed to Kongming's eyes. Kongming's eyes quietly received the gaze of Sun Quan.

It was the first face-to-face meeting of the two men. The sovereign's blade upon the table, and the scholar's fan upon his knees, faced each other at the center of the morning's hall.

Sun Quan spoke first.

"Wolong Sir. I heard your words before the eleven from a room outside the door. The stream named 'does the vassal of Han guard Han or abandon Han' seems already to be known by the blade that sits a hand's-breadth before my hand. Yet a sovereign's decision is not made by the name of that stream alone. A sovereign's decision must also weigh the mass of the board that will follow it."

Kongming's fan moved quietly.

"Lord Sun. Your saying, that a sovereign's decision must weigh the mass of the board, is correct. Only, when upon one pan of the scale you place the bowl of this morning's submission, and upon the other the bowl of tomorrow's resistance, the weights of the two bowls may tilt opposite to what you might suppose."

Sun Quan's fingertip drew half a hand's-breadth closer to the handle. Yet he did not grip it.

"In what way can they tilt in the opposite direction?"

"Submission may appear the lighter choice, but what follows its lightness is the permanent erasure of the name of the house of Sun in Jiangdong. Resistance may appear the heavier choice, but what follows its heaviness is the permanent preservation of that name. Between the lightness of an hour upon the scale and the preservation of the name for a generation to come, which side will the sovereign choose to weigh?"

Sun Quan drew a long breath. His right hand paused again, a hand's-breadth before the handle.

Kongming's fan moved a second time.

"Lord Sun. Upon the scholar's knees there is a fan. Upon the sovereign's table there is a blade. A fan does not carry the weight of a blade. Yet a word of the fan can move the blade. Today's decision is one such moment. My fan sits at this seat this morning in order to move your blade, on your behalf."

Sun Quan's eyebrows rose slightly, then settled again. His right hand withdrew half a hand's-breadth from the handle. Within that half-breadth of withdrawal, a trace of the morning's hesitation was lodged.

"Wolong Sir's words carry the weight of a blade. Yet this decision is not to be made at this seat, this morning. I shall set it aside for tomorrow's seat. How my hand will grip this blade tomorrow morning will be decided within the breath of tonight's night."

Kongming bowed his head.

"It is correct, my lord. A sovereign's decision is one that is made only after a breath taken through the depth of a night. I, too, shall share that breath, quietly, from a room outside the hall."

Sun Quan rose. The eleven officials rose. Kongming rose as well. The air inside the hall was set in order, quietly. Sun Quan's right hand withdrew from the blade upon the table. Within that withdrawal, tomorrow morning's decision was waiting.

The morning sunlight had now nearly reached the west window of the hall. It was the time when the morning's hall was drawing to a close.

The fifth morning of Book 6 was stepping out of the door of the hall. The scholar's fan and the sovereign's blade, separated by a hand's-breadth upon a table, returned each to his own seat. The night that lay between now and tomorrow morning would carry, within it, the breath of a decision not yet made.

—