Thus it is said:

　　Fragrant screens paint the springing grass, an immortal shuttle weaves the dawn’s rose;

　　What likeness is there to the mountain-and-water road, where opposite the path the blossoms fly?

　　It is told: after the clash upon Mount Tai, the Nine-Tailed Spirit Fox and Master Hongren (Master Hongren — abbot of the Fifth-Ancestor Monastery) and the National Preceptor (the realm’s chief Taoist adviser) had fought their arts until both sides lay sorely wounded. The Fox, driven from the field, fled once more into the common world to bide its hour. When the Feng-Shan retinue returned to the Eastern Capital Luoyang, the Emperor at once commanded the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Punishments to scour the realm for the Nine-Tailed Spirit Fox. Meanwhile, at the Qian-Yuan Hall the Emperor and Empress held a banquet in gratitude to Master Hongren and the National Preceptor.

　　Presently all took their seats, and the palace performers rose to sing and dance. Their songs and movements pleased the court; praise was on every tongue. The Empress proclaimed, “On the Mount Tai journey the nine-tailed demon came to trouble us; thanks to this Master and the National Preceptor the fiend has been subdued. This feast we set to show our thanks.” With that she made a sign. A waiting maid brought forward a thing and disclosed it: the Pearl of the Southern Sea. The Empress said, “There is no richer gift by which to thank you; accept this Pearl of the Southern Sea.” Master Hongren and the National Preceptor bowed and gave thanks, and each called to his disciples to place the pearl in safe keeping.

　　A little while later, the guests grown merry, Master Hongren rose to thank the sovereigns and took his leave. The National Preceptor accompanied him to the outer hall, but Hongren said, “Brother Daoist, tarry not for me; this old monk will go on alone.” The Preceptor sighed and replied, “Old fellow, I envy you—come and go like the wind, carefree and at ease.” Hongren laughed and answered, “If you too would abandon this dust and clamor you might be free indeed.” The Preceptor asked, “How shall one know the dust of the world?” Hongren replied, “Not entering the dust you cannot know it; and knowing it, one views it and yet finds it hard to leave the sea of suffering. Brother, take care.” So saying, Master Hongren exercised a secret step and, with his disciples, departed. The Preceptor saw him off and then returned to his mountaintop retreat to cultivate in quiet.

　　After that matter, the Emperor summoned Pei Judao, Cheng Wenyu, and Pei Xingjian to question them about the attempted assassination. “What words have you to give concerning the attack?” asked the Emperor. Pei Judao answered, “Sire, an army of over ten thousand marched down from the frontier; without an inside hand to welcome them it were impossible.” The Emperor asked, “Do you harbor any suspicion?” Pei Judao said nothing but handed up an object. The Emperor examined it and found a campaign tally upon which was incised the seal character “Xue.” Pei Judao said, “This was seized upon the person of the rebel Fuhui; beyond that intent I know not.” The Emperor fell silent and pondered; a thread of clue presented itself. After a moment the Emperor asked, “Cheng, Pei, what more have you to say?” Cheng Wenyu demurred. Pei Xingjian spoke: “I propose bringing Duke Xue (Xue Guogong) to the capital so that the Court of Judicial Review may investigate fully.” The Emperor said, “Your counsel holds weight; yet this matter is grave. To summon Duke Xue at once may set off overreaction. First have men inquire in secret; then we shall decide.” The three bowed and replied, “Your Majesty is wise.” The Emperor added, “Enough for now; Pei Xingjian, there is another matter I must have you attend.” Pei Xingjian stepped forward to receive the imperial charge.

　　Soon Pei Judao led a band of the so-called ‘rough officers’ into the palace to present themselves. The Emperor said, “Of the Mount Tai affair there is suspicion concerning Duke Xue. Rather than summon him without proof, I have charged you to lead these rough officers and make covert inquiry.” The leader answered, “Sire is wise. We take the order and will seek the truth.”

　　At a sign from the Emperor, servants brought up chests of gold and silver. The Emperor said, “These rough officers assist the local magistrates to keep order and do the Court’s dark work; their labors are manifold but their status forbids public reward. This treasure shall be a fitting recompense.” The leader responded, “Sire honors us with gratitude; we dare not crave more.” The Emperor replied, “You err in humility—where there has been wrong there must be punishment; where there has been service there must be reward. This wealth is rightly yours. I shall have it delivered at once; you and your men divide it as you will. Go now and continue to serve the state.” The leader prostrated and withdrew.

　　Spring stirred and grasses grew; in the second month the Emperor, moved to honor his forebears, posthumously conferred upon his father the title “Great Mysterious Primordial Emperor” and renamed the Preceptor’s hermitage the “Temple of the Mysterious Primordial Emperor.” He commanded Minister Yan Liben to enlarge and refurbish it, and set Pei Xingjian to assist.

　　Soon after, the Emperor called Pei Xingjian aside and said, “Pei, do you remember your earlier counsel?” Pei answered, “I have not forgotten.” The Emperor: “Yan is upright; you must take care to act with caution.” Pei: “I know, and I shall not set myself against Yan; I shall obey Your Majesty’s edicts.” The Emperor laughed heartily, “So—thank you, my lord.”

　　Thus Yan Liben and Pei Xingjian accepted the edict and soon met on the verdant slopes of Beimang Mountain. Yan said at once, “Pei, the design and building fall to the Ministry of Works; the Court of Judicial Review handles legal matters of the imperial family—what purpose has the Sovereign in ordering this?” Pei answered, “Sire’s intent is plain. Our realm’s two great former Court Preceptors have predicted certain great events for the Tang and compiled the prophetic ‘Tui Bei Tu’ with its annotations. The late Emperor and the Sovereign sought that manuscript from the Preceptor and were politely denied. Now with the Mount Tai assault by the nine-tailed demon—a thing of deep mystery—if we could read true omens in advance we might plan and prevent. Therefore the restoration of the Mysterious Primordial Temple serves as pretext; the true aim is to seek the original Tui Bei Tu and its commentaries.” Yan Liben said, “Sire is a sage; the Preceptor’s refusal is not to be forced.” Pei replied, “Master Yan’s counsel is well taken; we, as ministers, must carry out the Sovereign’s orders. Whatever else is required I leave to your hands.” Yan sighed and then set himself to the task.

　　But let this lie for a while. One morning Liu Xiangdao presented a composition and waited at his own residence until the Emperor ascended the throne hall.

　　In the early dawn the Emperor came to court and Liu Xiangdao said, “By Your Majesty’s leave, Minister Huangfu and I have sought talents, and we have found a man. This work is his; we both judge its language noble and its meaning grand—please view it.” He handed the scroll. The Emperor read aloud:

　　I have heard the Roc ascend the boundless, the jade city opens its purple emperor’s court;

　　The Ao descends to clarity, the precious wilds give birth to the yellow spirit’s pavilion.

　　Mount upon mount arrayed to the utmost, lighting the phoenix gate with dawn’s token;

　　Waters gather the source, jet black palaces sink amid misty ravines.

　　Thus are divine signs and strange portents, deeds latent from the origin of bird-traces;

　　Reason wanders beyond the Canon, the Way darkens from the start of partridge nests.

　　Bestow the phoenix edict and bow to azure heights, the immortal constructions are rare;

　　Strike the tortoise shell and compare with the yellow charts—golden models arise.

　　Should the wind move and the place grow dim, layers of nests stretch the furnace of fate;

　　From that industry toward light, the main beam contains the river map’s secret.

　　Three steps set the administration, chants mounted daily on the Spirit Terrace;

　　A hundred walls present poems, the hymns endure in the tribunal hall.

　　There are yellow pavilions to peer at the moon, towers that topple the Nine Rivers’ feat;

　　Jade doors part like smoke, the pastoral plain forms the three rivers’ might.

　　On the Imperial Banquet Terrace one faces the Northern Pole, measuring kingly degrees in prayer;

　　Cloud pavilions stand to bar the southern mountains, the sovereign’s plan falls upon the road.

　　Yet a lowly palace laments funerals, rafters pluck light honors from the Four Seas;

　　Full houses extend disaster, cedar beams not the lot of myriad chariots.

　　Though institutions arise with the times, lavish and frugal differ by stream, yet the Way abides in men — rise and fall in successive turns;

　　Divine radiance scarcely sees the nine halls’ splendor; great plans of blessing yet bear the scars of the three quarters.

　　Survey old histories and reach Cao Ma with no scorn; behold past ruins and trace Zhou and Sui without full knowledge.

　　Since Tang’s imperial tombs were moved and composed, the five quarters stand at the crane’s desk;

　　In the midst the plain composes the map, tuning the six airs beneath coiling beds.

　　Seated upon the jade tablet one bows and measures days and nights; the sun-dial and meridian align;

　　Facing the cauldron city one values might and spirit, wind and thunder answer with one sound.

　　To gain the primal merit at great stature, who shall say it lies here?

　　Our Tang points and directs, its gods shape mountains and rivers; prophetic cranes cut the rite and cleave the void to make the world.

　　Yellow roots issue auspice, the coiled dragon conceives the emperor’s root; purple breaths mark the sign of the true king, the phoenix cries as proof.

　　High Ancestor and Taiwu Emperor saw the rainbow star deepen, unlocking the ancestral helm in golden urns;

　　Dragon lightning condensed the cloud and gave brightness to the stone fastness.

　　A white serpent broke by night, shifting the talisman over sea and peak; a blue-horned beast drove the dawn and encountered the thunder’s work.

　　East neighbour thrusts the reins, oppression fans its rites at clustered shrines; the North unfurls contempt and shatters the imperial plan at the apex.

　　Feathered cranes gather in the wild, look where the black crow treads and see the cause; a green calf cries the wind, the herds of deer choose no fixed cry.

　　Heaven Street splits in five, cuts the whale bay and casts off flashes; the earth’s anchor breaks in three, touches Ao Mountain and marks the rhythm.

　　The primal dragon at the helm sweeps borders and expands the star city; yellow birds divide banners, stir the whirling rise to vex the host.

　　Palace guards brandish halberds and vault the high thoroughfares to the peak; bridled steeds hide their spears and mount the sacrificial terrace with cries.

　　Imperial designs need not rely; sages pursue the scroll and seize the wind; sacred tools know no private greed; the gifted serve to lift the hem of fate.

　　When the Emperor read thus far, his countenance brightened and he exclaimed, “Fine writing! What is the name of this piece?” Liu Xiangdao replied, “Your Majesty, the name is ‘Ode to the Qianyuan Hall’.” The Emperor asked, “And who penned it?” Liu answered, “A man of Longmen County in Jang Prefecture, a scion in the line of the scholar Wang Tong—this is the work of Wang Bo, grandson of Wang Tong and kin of Wang Zian.” The Emperor cried, “A wonder of talent! A wonder of talent—truly a rare gift to our Tang!” He then summoned, “Bring this man to my presence tomorrow; I will see him.” Liu bowed and sent word to Wang Bo.

　　On the morrow the Golden Guards brought Wang Bo to the imperial Shendu Garden. The spring winds blew and flowers unrolled; the Emperor and Empress were amusing Princess Li Lingyue. Cheng Wenyu said, “Sire, the man is at hand.” Wang bowed and declared, “I pay homage to the Emperor, Empress, and the little Princess.” The Emperor put aside his play with the child and said, “Yesterday I read your ‘Ode to Qianyuan Hall’; the lines bespeak service and advancement. If I were to appoint you to official rank, what counsel would you offer the realm?” Wang replied, “Place me where Your Majesty wills, and there I shall labor.” The Emperor pleased, glanced to the Empress, who returned his look, and then said, “So be it. I will make you Chaosanlang (a junior registrar), charge you to inspect the examinations of our scholars, and in spare hours to instruct the Crown Prince and the Princess; you shall act as a junior tutor. In time, should your merits be great, you shall be promoted further.”

　　Though sixteen years old and unready for such sudden good fortune, Wang stood stunned and did not at first reply. Cheng tapped him gently and urged, “Master Wang, you must first thank Their Majesties. This poetic examination passes few; now the Emperor has favored you—give heed and render thanks.” Wang recovered himself and said, “I thank the Emperor and the Empress for their grace.”

　　No sooner had this been said than Pei Judao came riding hard and, bowing before the Emperor and Empress, announced: “Sire, a dispatch from Prime Minister Zhang of the Capital demands haste.” He handed the urgent document. The Emperor broke the seal and read: “There is turmoil in Goguryeo; I cannot manage it here; I beg Your Majesty to hasten to the capital to plan affairs.” The Emperor’s face turned grave. He handed the paper to the Empress and said, “Wang Bo, I shall soon return to the capital; go there and make ready to join the retinue.” Wang bowed, “I obey.”

　　After Wang Bo departed, the Emperor summoned his ministers to arrange the affairs of Luoyang. A few days later, once matters there were settled, the Emperor led the Empress and Princess Li Lingyue back to the capital Chang’an and summoned Chancellor Zhang Wengan (Zhang Wenguan) to audience.

　　Zhang Wenguan, styled Zhigui, a scion of Wucheng in Bei Prefecture and son of Zhang Qianxiong, rose through the ranks on merit and became a trusted minister. He informed the Emperor: “Sire, news comes from Goguryeo that Qian Gaosi Wen has died; his eldest son Qian Nansheng has succeeded as Moli Zhi. To secure the people Qian Nansheng first departed Pyongyang to inspect the five divisions, then toured the borders to restore the soldiers’ loyalty. To guard against surprise he left his brothers Qian Nanjian and Qian Nanchan to handle affairs at court. But Qian Nanjian has seized the chance to rebel, murdering Qian Nansheng’s son Qian Xianzhong and seizing the title of Moli Zhi. He has mustered troops against Qian Nansheng, who now is compelled to entrench within the old capital. With no aid he has sent envoys to our Tang pleading for succor; I cannot manage this alone and request Your Majesty return to the capital.” The Emperor asked, “Where is the envoy now?” Zhang replied, “He waits at the relay station; shall Your Majesty receive him?” The Emperor said, “No—tell him the Sovereign’s journey has been exerting and the Emperor is ill with a chill; postpone an audience.”

　　Zhang Wenguan, surprised, asked, “Why refuse? If Your Majesty were to dispatch a great army to support Qian Nansheng, the two forces would meet and Qian Nanjian’s force would be routed; such a victory would secure immediate result and Qian Nansheng would submit to Tang.” The Emperor replied, “Your reasoning is astute. But my purpose is greater: from High Ancestor to Tai Zong the matter of Goguryeo has often troubled the Tang. Even when Emperor Taizong himself led forces the result was incomplete. Now given this chance, I intend to end this threat once and for all.” Zhang asked, “So Your Majesty contemplates destroying Goguryeo?” The Emperor said, “You see straight. For the good of Tang and for my own fortune I shall strike decisively.” Thus the Emperor ordered that the envoy be detained on some pretext and that frontier commanders hold their troops in wait; any who disobeyed would suffer death without mercy.