Tung Ch‘êng covered his face and wept. “I fear you may not be true to me,” cried he.
Chi P‘ing at once bit off a finger as a pledge of his faith. And then his host and patient brought forth the decree he had received in the girdle. “I am afraid our schemes will come to nought,” said he. “Liu Yüan-tê and Ma T‘êng are gone and there is nothing we can do. That was the real reason I fell ill.”
“It is not worth troubling you gentlemen with; for Ts‘ao’s life lies in these hands of mine,” said Chi P‘ing.
“How can that be?”
“Because he is often ill with deep-seated pain in his head. When this comes on he sends for me. When next he calls me I only have to give him one dose and he will certainly die. We do not want any weapons.”
“If only you could do it! You would be the saviour of the Dynasty; it depends upon you.”
Then Chi P‘ing went away leaving his late patient a happy man. Tung strolled into the garden and there he saw one of his slaves, Tsʻin Ch‘ing-t‘ung, whispering with one of the waiting maids in a dark corner. This annoyed him and he called his attendants to seize them. He would have put them to death but for the intervention of his wife. At her request he spared their lives but both were beaten, and the lad was thrown into a dungeon. Sulky at his treatment the slave broke out of the cell in the night, climbed over the wall and went straight to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s palace, where he betrayed the conspiracy.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao at once had him taken into a secret chamber and questioned him. He gave the names of the conspirators and told as much as he knew of their doings. He said his master had a piece of white silk, with writing on it, but he did not know what it meant. Lately Chi P‘ing had bitten off one of his fingers as a pledge of fidelity. He had seen that.
The runaway slave was kept in a secret part of the Palace while his late master, only knowing that he had run away, took no special means to find him.
Soon after this Ts‘ao feigned a headache and sent for Chi P‘ing as usual.
“The rebel is done for,” thought Chi P‘ing, and he made a secret package of poison which he took with him to the palace of the Minister. He found Ts‘ao in bed. The patient bade the doctor prepare a potion for him.
“One draught will cure this disease,” said P‘ing. He bade them bring him a pipkin and he prepared the potion in the room. When it had simmered for some time and was half finished the poison was added, and soon after the physician presented the draught. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, knowing it was poisoned, made excuses and would not swallow it.
