Lü Pu had no desire to fight; all he wished was to get through so he made for a side road. Yüan-tê came in pursuit and the two parties engaged. Brave as he might be, Lü Pu was almost helpless now that he was hampered by a girl on his shoulders, whom he was desperately anxious to preserve from hurt. Beside other parties came up all shouting and attacking and he had no alternative but to give up his project and return into the city. He reached his palace very sad at heart. The besiegers returned to camp well pleased that no one had got beyond their lines. Lü Pu found consolation in the wine cup. The siege had gone on for two months and still the city stood, when they heard that Chang Yang, Prefect of Honei, had been inclined to come to the help of Lü Pu. But one of his subordinates had assassinated him and was bringing his head as an offering to Tsʻao Tsʻao, when he also had been slain by one of the Prefect’s friends. He had then gone to Tachʻêng. In the camp of the besiegers there now arose much murmuring. The officers grumbled saying, “Though Chang Yang, who meant to hurt us, is happily no more, yet we are threatened on the north by Yüan Shao and on the east Piao Hsiu is a menace. Here we meet with no success against the city. We are for leaving Lü Pu to his fate and returning home. We need a rest.” Among them Hsün Yü fought against this discontent. “You must not act like this,” said he. “Lü Pu has lost much and his spirit is broken. The spirit of the leader expresses that of his men, and when the leader fails his men do not fight. Chʻên Kung is clever but nothing is done. Lü Pu broken, Chʻên Kung without decision, it only needs a sharp attack and we shall succeed.” “I have a plan to propose,” said Kuo Chia, “a plan to overcome the city at once; it beats twenty legions.” “I suppose you mean drowning the city,” said Hsün Yü. “That is it,” said the proposer, smiling. Tsʻao Tsʻao accepted the suggestion with joy and set his men to cut the banks of the I and Ssŭ Rivers, and moved his men to the high ground whence they watched the drowning out of Hsiaopʻei. Only the east gate remained clear of water. The besieged soldiers hastened to their leader. He said, “Why should I fear? My good horse can go as well through the water as over the land.” And he again returned to the wine cup for consolation, drinking deeply with his wife and concubine. The continual drinking bouts told at last and Lü Pu began to look dissipated. Seeing himself in a mirror one day he was startled at the change and said to himself, “I am injuring myself with wine; no more from this day forward.” He then issued an order that no one should drink wine under penalty of death.