Tung Chʻêng’s heart was melting with fear but he dared not disobey. So he handed over the robe. Tsʻao took it and held it up against the sun with his own hand and minutely examined every part of it. When he had done this he put it on, girded it with the girdle and turning to his suite said, “How is it for length?” “Beautiful!” they chorussed. Turning to Tung Chʻêng he said, “Will you give these to me?” “My King’s presents to me I dare not give to another. Let me give you another robe in its stead,” said Tung. “Is there not some intrigue connected with these presents? I am sure there is,” said Tsʻao. “How could I dare?” said Tung, trembling. “If you are so set upon it then I must give it up.” “How could I take away what your King has given you? It was all a joke,” said the Minister. He returned both robe and girdle and their owner made the best of his way home. When night came and he was alone in his library, he took out the robe and looked over every inch of it most carefully. He found nothing. “He gave me a robe and a girdle and bade me look at them carefully. That means there is something to be looked for but I can find no trace of it. What does it mean?” he soliloquised. Then he lifted the girdle and examined that. The jade plates were carved into the semblance of small dragons interlaced among flowers. The lining was of purple silk. All was sewn together most carefully and neatly and he could find nothing out of the common. He was puzzled. He laid the belt on the table. Presently he picked it up and looked at it again. He spent long hours over it but in vain. He leaned over on the small table, his head resting on his hands and was almost asleep, when a candle snuff fell down upon the girdle and burned a hole in the lining. He hastily shook it off, but the mischief was done: a small hole had been burned in the silken lining, and through this there appeared something white with blood red marks. He hastily ripped it open and drew out the decree written by the hand of the Emperor himself in characters of blood. It read, “Of human relationships, that between father and son stands first; of the various social ties that between Prince and Minister stands highest. To-day Tsʻao Tsʻao, the wicked, is a real tyrant, treating even his Prince with indignity. With the support of his faction and his army he has destroyed the principles of government. By conferring rewards and inflicting punishments he has reduced the Emperor to a nonentity. I have grieved over this day and night. I have feared the Empire would be ruined. “You are a high Minister of State and my own relative. You must recall the difficulties of the great Founder’s early days and draw together the loyal and right-minded to destroy this evil faction and restore the prerogatives of the Throne. Such a deed would be indeed an extreme joy to the spirits of my ancestors.