“It is not my birthday,” replied he. “But I wished to call you together and I feared lest Tung Cho should suspect, so I made that the excuse. This man insults the Emperor and does as he wishes so that the imperial prerogatives are in imminent peril. I think of the days when our illustrious founder destroyed Tsʻin, annihilated Chʻu and obtained the Empire. Who could have foreseen this day when that Tung Cho has subjugated all to his will? That is why I weep.” Then they all wept with him. Seated among the guests, however, was Tsʻao Tsʻao, who did not join in the weeping but clapped his hands and laughed aloud. “If all the officers of the government weep till dawn, and from dawn weep till dark, will that slay Tung Cho?” said he. His host turned on him angrily. “Your forbears ate of the bounty of the Hans; do you feel no gratitude? You can laugh?” “I laughed at the absurdity of an assembly like this being unable to compass the death of one man. Foolish and incapable as I am I will cut off his head and hang it at the gate as an offering to the people.” The host left his seat and went over to Tsʻao Tsʻao. “These later days,” Tsʻao continued, “I have bowed my head to Tung Cho with the sole desire of finding a chance to destroy him. Now he begins to trust me and so I can approach him sometimes. You have a ‘seven precious’ sword which I would borrow and I will go into his palace and kill him. I care not if I die for it.” “What good fortune for the world that this is so!” said the host. With this he himself poured out a goblet for his guest who drained it and swore an oath. After this the sword was brought out and given to Tsʻao Tsʻao who hid it under his dress. He finished his wine, took leave of the guests and left the hall. Before long the others dispersed. Soon after Tsʻao Tsʻao, with this short sword girded on, came to the palace of the minister. “Where is the minister?” asked he. “In the small guest room,” replied the attendants. So Tsʻao Tsʻao went in and found his host seated on a couch, Lü Pu was at his side. “Why so late, Mêng-tê?” said Tung Cho. “My horse is out of condition and slow,” replied Tsʻao. Cho turned to his henchman. “Some good horses have come in from the west. You go and pick out a good one as a present for him.” And Lü Pu left. “He is doomed,” thought Tsʻao Tsʻao. He ought to have struck then, but Tsʻao knew Cho was very powerful and he was afraid; he wanted to make sure of his blow. Now Tung Cho’s corpulence was such that he could not remain long sitting, so he rolled over and lay face inwards. “Now is the time,” thought the assassin, and he gripped the good sword firmly. But just as he was going to strike, his victim happened to look up and in a mirror he saw the reflection of Tsʻao Tsʻao behind him with a sword in his hand. “What are you doing, Mêng-tê?” said he turning suddenly. And at that moment Lü Pu came along leading a horse.