Tung Chʻêng was more than delighted. He called his slaves and armed them, put on his own armour and mounted his horse. The conspirators met, as they had arranged, just at the inner gate. It was the first watch. The small army marched straight in, Tung Chʻêng leading with his sword drawn. His intended victim was at table in one of the private rooms. Tung rushed in crying, “Tsʻao you rebel, stay!” and dashed at Tsʻao Tsʻao who fell at the first blow. And just then he woke up and found it was all a dream, a dream as unreal as that of life in the kingdom of the ants. But his mouth was still full of curses. “Do you really wish to destroy Tsʻao Tsʻao?” said Chi Pʻing, going forward to his half awakened patient. This brought him to his senses. Tung stopped, terror stricken, and made no reply. “Do not be frightened, O Uncle,” said the doctor, “Although I am a physician I am also a man, and I never forget my Emperor. You have seemed sad for many days but I have never ventured to ask the reason. Now you have shown it in your dream and I know your real feelings. If I can be of any use I will help. Nothing can daunt me.” Tung Chʻêng covered his face and wept. “I fear you may not be true to me,” cried he. Chi Pʻing 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 Tʻêng 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 Tsʻao’s life lies in these hands of mine,” said Chi Pʻing. “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 Pʻing went away leaving his late patient a happy man. Tung strolled into the garden and there he saw one of his slaves, Tsʻin Chʻing-tʻung, 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 Tsʻao Tsʻao’s palace, where he betrayed the conspiracy. Tsʻao Tsʻao 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 Pʻing had bitten off one of his fingers as a pledge of fidelity. He had seen that.