《漢丞相諸葛忠武侯集》Vol. 6
About this page. The original text of 《漢丞相諸葛忠武侯集》 Vol. 6 (Qing Daoist texts 清代道教文獻, 7 volumes) is shown in Classical Chinese as transmitted in the Kanripo (Kyoto University) edition. An English interpretation of the 62 passages on this page accompanies it: select a passage or press “Interpretation” to show it. All texts in English
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The Collected Works of Zhuge Liang, the Loyal and Martial Marquis of Han includes numerous poems commemorating the legendary strategist. Du Fu, in his Meditations on Historical Sites, extols: "Zhuge Liang's great name echoes through heaven and earth; the revered image of this wise chancellor remains solemn and dignified. He exhausted his spirit devising the Three Kingdoms' balance of power—his achievements soaring like a phoenix among clouds. His talent rivaled Yi Yin and Lü Shang (renowned ministers of Shang and Zhou), while his strategic brilliance surpassed even Xiao He and Cao Shen (founding statesmen of Han). Though unable to restore Han's mandate, he served with utter devotion until his death in the army camp."
Another poem depicts: "Liu Bei, launching his campaign against Wu, encamped at Baidi City (near the Three Gorges), ultimately passing away in Yong'an Palace. Now empty mountains echo with imagined royal processions—the palace ruins transformed into a wilderness temple. Waterbirds nest around the ancient shrine where villagers offer seasonal sacrifices. The Marquis Wu Temple stands adjacent to the First Ruler's shrine, sovereign and minister sharing posterity's incense."
Feng Zhi's Thatched Cottage of Marquis Wu observes: "Though Zhuge Liang (the Sleeping Dragon) departed long ago, Longzhong's hills still bear his fame. Like a fallen general's star, his heart remained bound to Han. The elder statesman's statue endures, yet the Han dynasty perished ages past. Fortunately, common folk remember him here, teaching agriculture and sericulture as he once did."
Ye Guizhang, ascending to the cottage, reflects: "A millennium has passed since Longzhong's hermitage—yet the memorial hall still nestles by emerald waters. Envoys come with wind-borne offerings; friends climb the tower to ponder history. Repeated northern expeditions (through Qin Passes) ended with his star setting at Wuzhang Plain—the tripartite Han ambition unfulfilled. Though his Empty Fort Strategy routed Sima Yi (making 'Sima flee'), it couldn't alter Shu Han's fate."
Liu Xiang's verses recall: "Where the Sleeping Dragon once dwelt, ancient cypresses still touch the sky. He likened himself to Guan Zhong and Yue Yi (Spring and Autumn statesmen), surpassing even Cao Cao and Sun Quan. Liu Bei's Three Visits summoned him from his thatch—his loyal service opposed treacherous powers. A thousand years later, pilgrims still ascend with undiminished reverence."
Fan Jizu's pilgrimage note describes: "Long have I revered the Sleeping Dragon's abode—his autumn-wind cottage invites profound sighs. His battle formations once seemed to swallow Wu and Wei; his loyalty's qi filled mountains and rivers. The radiant Memorials on Launching Expeditions shine eternally in annals; his faithful soul merges with distant white clouds. After this general's star fell, Han's celestial mandate truly expired."
Lu You wrote in "Wuhou's Study":
The overgrown grasses flourish along Mianyang Road,
While Kongming's empty shrine stands in solitude.
Though Sima Yi was called a crafty schemer,
Fear kept him from facing Shu's mighty troops.
On the Cold Food Festival path before Dingjun Mountain,
People still offer sacrifices at the Prime Minister's tomb.
Gazing at the pines and cypresses before the grave,
One can almost hear him chanting "Liangfu Yin,"
Recalling how he answered Liu Bei's thrice-repeated summons.
His "Memorial on the Expedition" stands peerless through millennia—
His talent surpassed even Guan Zhong and Yue Yi of old.
How could worldly minds comprehend such greatness?
What books did he read upon this lofty terrace?
Song Jing lamented in "The Reading Terrace":
Do you not see?
Kongming's Reading Terrace stands beside the shrine,
Now desolate, its ancient texts long vanished.
Before he emerged from seclusion,
Shu lay distant beyond his reach,
While Nanyang's thatched hut waited day after day in vain.
The Han's crimson mandate waned,
Yet Moling birthed a new dynasty.
Liu Zhang proved weak as an infant,
But Liu Bei—grasping the tiger-wolf's ambition—
Grew stronger after taking Jingzhou.
A rare talent like Zhuge Liang—
Did he need this terrace to secure his fame?
Did it truly exist at all?
The people of Shu longed for him,
But the Yangtze's waters remember his tactics forever.
Now Daoist priests dwell here—
Only the street name remains.
How I wish to meet ancients by this terrace!
Yet autumn grasses regrow,
Twining like book ribbons.
Xu Hun depicted in "On the Road to Nanyang":
Moonlight slants as I sail past village shores;
Wild inns cluster high and low by the ancient walls.
Early blossoms on the fence wilt after morning meals,
While wellside autumn leaves sprout before the village rites.
Hungry crows cry, trailing fledglings for food;
Lazy cows linger, watching calves slow to return.
Windswept wilderness stretches to the sky—
Who now learns from Zhuge Liang tilling his humble fields?
Hu Zeng wrote in "Nanyang":
Amid chaos, heroes fought a hundred battles,
Yet Zhuge Liang alone tilled here in peace.
Had Liu Bei not sought his thatched hut thrice,
Would this sage ever have left his retreat?
Chen Quyi recorded in "Stopping at Nanyang":
How splendid today's northeastern clouds!
I rein my steed—swift rain approaches.
Spring chill bullies the far-traveled wanderer;
I raise my cup and drink deep.
A hundred years of life burn the ears (age comes),
All endeavors falter at their start.
Where now is the Sleeping Dragon?
Even his burial mound lies... (fragment conveys melancholy transience)
These are three nostalgic poems depicting Zhuge Liang's former residence in Longzhong. Su Shi's "Longzhong" portrays the ethereal beauty of the mountains and waters around Xiangyang's Longzhong: though Zhuge Liang passed away a millennium ago, people still cherish his memory. Seeing the dragon-shaped mountain contours left behind, one cannot help but shed tears. The line "The coiling dragon's landscape remains fair" metaphorically suggests Zhuge Liang's recluse life here like a hidden dragon, while "The dragon's departure shifted the abyssal pool" laments the early demise of this extraordinary talent.
Wang Yue's "Ten Odes to Longzhong" selects six scenic spots: by the Hexagonal Well, he reflects on the unfulfilled aspirations of heroes past and present; before the Ancient Cypress Pavilion, he observes weather-beaten yet upright ancient trees, mirroring Zhuge Liang's moral integrity; the Ploughing Fields evoke memories of the statesman's reclusive years, cultivating virtues like Yi Yin tilling the Shen countryside; at the Liangfu Chanting Site, he contemplates Zhuge Liang's noble character that sought no fame; on the Knee-Embracing Rock, one almost glimpses Zhuge Liang deep in thought with knees drawn up; while the Old Dragon Cave legend tells of Zhuge Liang's secluded cultivation here, with draconic qi (vital energy) seemingly lingering within.
The final four poems depict Longzhong's streams: the Small Rainbow Bridge recalls Liu Bei's three visits to the thatched cottage; the Crescent Moon Stream's mirror-clear waters reflect Zhuge Liang's loyal heart; the Wild Cloud Hermitage nestles in misty depths where only breeze and moonlight keep company, symbolizing the recluse's transcendent demeanor. The "threefold enterprise" refers to Zhuge Liang's assistance in establishing Shu Han, while "teacher of emperors" alludes to how this man qualified to instruct monarchs ultimately chose reclusion.
The ruler of Shu-Han, Liu Bei, made three personal visits, yet in his heart he never succeeded in reclaiming the Central Plains, until at last his great star fell. I often recall Du Fu’s verses, which time and again bring heroes to tears, dampening their sleeves. (This is a poem describing the Temple of Marquis Wu.)
Zhuge Village (by Jie Xisi):
As the Han dynasty’s fortune waned in Luoyang, the Crouching Dragon rose from Nanyang. Liu Bei’s three visits to the thatched cottage summoned Zhuge Liang forth, and Shu-Han’s light was restored. Though the treacherous Three Rivers stood as barriers, with mighty armies, Zhuge’s Eight Formations moved with divine insight, and the two Memorials on the Expedition pierced the heavens with their spirit. Though dynasties rise and fall, my lord Liu Bei possessed the virtue of Yao and Shun. The thunder of a thousand armies shook the land, yet alas, the great star fell south of the Wei River—such eternal sorrow! So long as traitors and the Han cannot coexist, how could the Han perish? The mighty General Xiao (referring to Zhuge Liang) led his troops from Yongchang, and I dismount now before the shrine south of the city to pour libations in his honor.
Climbing the Crouching Dragon Ridge on the Ninth Day (by Tang Xianwang):
The Yu River flows eastward, its vast bends encircling the Crouching Dragon Ridge. Autumn frost dyes the maple groves red, while sunlight glows on chrysanthemums by the fence. Zhuge’s wisdom matched that of Guan Zhong and Yue Yi, and his heroic spirit won the allegiance of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. No need to debate success or failure in the wind—the loyalty of his two Memorials will shine for eternity.
Thoughts on Visiting the Crouching Dragon Ridge in Spring (by Tang Fan Chengxiuwang):
Spring grasses stretch endlessly, willow tendrils sway lightly; ascending the ridge, I sigh at the changes of time. Wild birds cry as if mourning a fallen kingdom, while the river’s flow carries the regrets of later generations. His talent for dividing the realm was unmatched, yet even he could not single-handedly prop up a collapsing empire. The traces of his legacy deepen my lament, and I recite Du Fu’s verses again and again.
Visiting the Crouching Dragon Ridge (by Tang Zhuangwang):
Alone I climb the Dragon Ridge as morning mist disperses; a thousand emerald cypresses sway in the crisp autumn air. The clouds of Yu Mountain merge with those of Songshan, while the waves of the Yu River join the Han. The three visits of old forged a grand enterprise, yet a thousand years later, only ruins remain. The master’s heart held plans to save the age—alas, even heroes are bound by fate.
Crouching Dragon Ridge (by Chen Zhenglun):
From here, Liu Bei summoned forth the Crouching Dragon; this thatched cottage forever preserves their noble tale. Ruler and minister met as kindred spirits, their bond deep, and in time, the Three Kingdoms took shape. Ancient trees tower into the heavens, veiled in mist; broken steles, weathered by wind and rain, are cloaked in moss. Standing here in reverence for the master’s pure name, I am filled with boundless admiration.
These poems are nostalgic works composed by later generations in remembrance of Zhuge Liang (courtesy name Kongming, sobriquet Sleeping Dragon). Through depictions of historical sites like Sleeping Dragon Ridge, they express reverence and lament for the Shu Han chancellor.
Gao Xin's poem portrays Zhuge Liang's youthful seclusion at Sleeping Dragon Ridge (modern Nanyang, Henan), where like Guan Zhong (Yiwu) of old, his talents remained unrecognized, leaving him to voice ambitions through the "Liangfu Yin" ballad. Though the moss-covered footprints of Liu Bei's Three Visits have faded, the legend of their lord-minister encounter echoes through millennia.
Yang Yingkui compares Zhuge to Jiang Ziya (Feixiong), marveling at the scholar-general's strategic brilliance manifested through feathered fan and silk headscarf. Now only autumn winds wail across the ridge, mourning the hero's absence.
Chen Hongmo reflects that despite Zhuge's self-comparison to Guan Zhong and Yue Yi, heaven's will denied him unification. Yet the loyalty in his "Chu Shi Biao" memorial still moves hearts today, enduring like the ridge's pine-cranes and rainbows.
When Li Chong ascended Sleeping Dragon Tower, he saw clouds shrouding the ridge and recalled Zhuge's northern expedition ambitions. Though mulberry fields have transformed, climbing the tower at sunset still evokes remembrance of this "cosmic luminary shining through millennia."
Tao Qinkui's poem describes autumn tower views where Shu Han's imperial aura has dissipated, yet tales persist of Xu Shu's recommendation and Pang Degong's recognition echoing through landscape. Distant strains of "Liangfu Yin" deepen the melancholy.
Du Mu's "Inscription at Strategy-Pen Courier Station" takes different approach, depicting Zhuge's arduous northern campaign planning at Hanzhong station. Phrases like "mapping heaven-earth" and "moistening brushes with victory-defeat" illustrate his tactical calculations, foreshadowing the tragedy of "campaigns unfinished before his death."
(Note: Allusions like "Three Visits," "Two Memorials" and "feathered fan-silk scarf" reference Zhuge Liang's life events; "Guan-Yue" and "Yiwu" denote Warring States general Yue Yi and Qi statesman Guan Zhong respectively.)
These three Tang poems about Choubai Post (a military station during Zhuge Liang's Northern Expeditions) commemorate the life of the legendary strategist from different perspectives.
The first poem depicts how Zhuge Liang abandoned his reclusive life in Nanyang to serve the Shu Han dynasty in gratitude for Liu Bei's recognition of his talents. The lines "When fortune comes, heaven and earth lend their strength/When fate turns, even heroes lose their freedom" poignantly express how even a genius like Zhuge Liang couldn't overcome destiny. The ending uses the post's flowing waters as a metaphor for his undying loyalty, eternally guarding the old battleground.
The second poem focuses on Zhuge Liang's unfulfilled ambition during the Northern Expeditions. "Red Prophecy" alludes to the Han dynasty's mandate, while "imperial order" symbolizes Shu Han's national destiny. The poet laments that despite Zhuge Liang's devotion expressed in the "Chu Shi Biao" (Memorial on the Expedition), he ultimately failed to restore the Han dynasty, though his spirit continues inspiring people millennia later.
The third poem opens with "fish and birds fear his military orders," illustrating how even animals respected Zhuge Liang's stern discipline. "Guan and Le" refers to famous ancient statesmen like Guan Zhong and Yue Yi, while "Guan and Zhang" denotes his comrades Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. The poet imagines later generations chanting "Liang Fu Yin" at Chengdu's Wuhou Shrine while mourning the chancellor's unrealized dreams.
The final section details Northern Expedition strategies: marching through Baoye Pass (an ancient Qinling mountain route) under the "Restoration Banner" (symbolizing Han legitimacy). "Complete pacification" quotes the Book of Songs, representing total conquest of chaos. While praising Zhuge Liang's "mountain-refined brilliance" in strategy, the poem also mourns how "fate's turn doomed the cause," concluding that "with the man's death, the kingdom followed"—inevitably linking Shu Han's collapse to its chancellor's passing.
The mist-shrouded peaks of Chaotian Ridge rise emerald-green against the sky. Countless mountain passes begin from this Longzhong region, their nine-fold perilous paths winding beyond the clouds, while turbulent rivers rush through steep gorges. The Chengdu Plain (Golden City) has been called the Land of Heavenly Abundance since ancient times, with the towering Sword Gate Pass (Jian'ge) guarding Yizhou (modern Sichuan). Remembering how Zhuge Liang (the Han strategist) marched six times through Qishan Mountains in vain, one still feels melancholy seeing these rain-veiled vistas today.
At Great Minister's Ridge, the treacherous mountain path resembles the Nine-Twist Slope traversed by imperial inspectors of old, where the tale of Meng Huo's seven captures seems to unfold anew. Shenli (modern Hanyuan in Sichuan) preserves Han dynasty ruins, while the Shu frontier fortress at Yandao (modern Yingjing) remains remote. Riding across frozen log roads, gliding on sleighs through snowdrifts—passing here again, I'm overcome with emotion and compose this long verse.
That day I reached Dismounting Sands, resting at the northern mountain's monastic quarters where stands the "Remembering the Worthy" Pavilion. It faces the southern mouth of Xie Valley, with Wuzhang Plateau to the west—precisely where Zhuge Liang launched his northern campaigns. Southward, three jagged peaks at the valley mouth interlock like wolf fangs; westward, Wuzhang Plateau coils like a serpent. One imagines Zhuge leading his legions from Hanzhong, soldiers silent as still water, only the whipping of horsewinds whispering through. His genius surpassed Cao Pi's (Cao Cao's son) by more than tenfold. Witness how he managed the Guanzhong region—a tempest sweeping sand. Yet the general's star fell too soon, leaving even Shu's women in mourning. How could the mountain monks know this humble chamber enshrines such epic memory? Historical mists disperse; hometown mountains still lean by the Wei River. Visitors vainly grieve over ruins, clear tears falling to mournful reed-pipes.
Ascending Bowang Mountain's gazebo—an ancient courier station's terrace—its low walls and sparse windows exude quiet elegance. Bamboo groves like dense smoke slant across paths; sunset gilds layered peaks embracing the walled city. A wanderer gazes at cloud-wrapped heights, ashamed by illness that keeps him from Songluo's native soil. Zhuge Liang (the Crouching Dragon)'s lonely grave remains in wilderness, where only spring-plowing farmers toil through rain.
In fifth moon leading troops into barbarous lands,
Lut River's miasmas thickened under moonlight.
To repay Liu Bei's three visits to his thatched hut,
Why fear seven captures of Meng Huo's campaign toils?
Of Zhuge's Salt Wells—from foothills to summit stand fourteen shafts, thirteen perpetually dry. Each midsummer... (Note: The passage blends historical travelogue with poetic meditation on Zhuge Liang's legacy. I've preserved:
1. Key place names in pinyin with contextual explanations
2. Classical allusions (e.g. "seven captures of Meng Huo") without over-annotation
3. The rhythmic cadence of parallel prose in critical sections
4. Culturally specific terms like "whipwind" (马鞭声) rendered poetically
5. The abrupt ending matching the original's fragmentary close)
This passage gathers poetic tributes from multiple poets to Zhuge Liang, the Shu Han chancellor posthumously honored as Marquis Zhongwu, focusing on two historic sites: Wuzhang Plateau and White Emperor City.
The opening segment employs salt springs as metaphor: when river waters rise, the brine springs retreat beyond their reach, symbolizing worldly vicissitudes. Though water inherently carries saltiness in the Five Phases system, river and well waters never blend—a natural phenomenon mirroring how human desires remain insatiable while cosmic principles manifest unpredictably.
Hu Zeng's verse depicts Zhuge Liang leading a hundred thousand troops westward, lingering amid autumn winds at Wuzhang Plateau. Shooting stars pause for no hero, streaking across midnight skies—an allusion to the chancellor's legendary demise when his guiding star fell at Wuzhang.
Li Dongyang's lines vividly portray battlefield scenes: war drums shake Wuzhang's plains as Wei forces tremble before Shu's tiger-like army. The chancellor points his halberd skyward before his falling star turns to dust. Though his dream of "mending heaven with tempered stone" (symbolizing Han restoration) went unfulfilled, his loyal spirit refuses to follow Shu's last emperor in surrender, instead guarding the kingdom's heroic dead.
Luo Rujing, visiting the Marquis Wu Temple, gazes upon Wuzhang's overgrown slopes and laments the vanished Three Kingdoms equilibrium, leaving only legends of the Eightfold Maze formation. Were it not for Zhuge Liang's loyalty shining like sun and moon, why would incense still burn at his altar? Why couldn't Heaven extend the Han's destiny, leaving heroes with eternal regrets?
Du Yingfang, reminiscing at White Emperor City, muses on this long-deserted stronghold. Here Liu Bei proclaimed his reign, yet the "Three Oath-Brothers'" (Liu, Guan, Zhang) linked camps and deathbed entrustment have faded into history, with only perennial cypresses and nightly crows as witnesses.
Fan Lai, passing White Emperor at dusk, paints Mount Wu's misty peaks and Kuimen Gorge's grandeur. Invoking historical parallels—Xiang Yu's last stand at Gaixia, Qin Shi Huang's unification, Gongsun Shu's separatist rule—he contrasts these with the present scene where only apes swing across cliffs and wildflowers bloom freely, silently echoing history's cyclical rise and fall.
(Note: The Eightfold Maze refers to Zhuge Liang's famous tactical formation; "Three Oath-Brothers" denotes Liu Bei, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei's peach orchard pact; "deathbed entrustment" recalls Liu Bei's dying bequest of his heir to Zhuge Liang at White Emperor City)
This poetic passage depicts the magnificent landscapes and historical relics of Kuizhou (present-day Fengjie, Chongqing), interweaving the achievements of Zhuge Liang (Marquis Zhongwu) with Du Fu's nostalgic reflections.
The opening evokes the scenery through natural imagery: spring breezes sway crimson blossoms and luminous moonlight before the Palace of the Celestial Maiden (a Daoist immortal abode). The twin cliffs of the Three Gorges stand like celestial locks, while the formidable Yanyu Rock rises majestically in the river. South of Hangu Pass, turbulent waves surge violently, and the rapids at Tiger Whisker Beach and Dragon Spine Pool roar with thunderous resonance.
The poet laments how exploring these hidden wonders remains endlessly elusive. Just as he prepares to ascend for a panoramic view, the water clock's chime hastens time's passage. Travelers whip their galloping steeds, their riding crops skimming the ground like shooting stars. Parting the carriage curtains reveals only darkening mountain hues. The fleeting scenery transforms instantaneously, leaving traces as ephemeral as dreams. Memories linger of historic battlefields where heroes once trod—though Yufu (ancient name of Baidi City) has been renamed Yong'an, one still marvels at how Zhuge Liang established the Three Kingdoms' balance of power here, perpetuating the Han dynasty's legacy.
The verse then extols Zhuge Liang (the Sleeping Dragon), whose statesmanship rivaled ancient ministers Yi Yin and Fu Yue. Answering heaven's timing, he emerged from his thatched cottage to ally with Wu against Wei. Where his royal troops marched, victory came effortlessly at Bailao Pass, while the Musk Deer Mountain's dragon caves seemed cleansed by the Milky Way. Post-war, commoners revived their livelihoods as fields regained verdancy. Later literati who came to inscribe verses could never match the authentic purity of Du Fu's (Zimei's) poetry left in Qutang Gorge.
The conclusion references two of Du Fu's masterpieces: "Kuizhou Songs" describes how pines at the Martial Marquis's shrine remain evergreen, dispelling wartime sorrows; "Ode to Ancient Cypresses" portrays bronze-branched, iron-rooted trees before Kongming Temple, their crowns piercing the clouds. The poet reflects how sovereign-minister encounters belong to bygone eras—only these ancient trees still command reverence, their numinous qi intermingling with Wu Gorge's cloud-waves. Finally, he sighs at his own aging frame (er mao denoting graying hair), knowing tomorrow's journey through western Sichuan still awaits—a subtle homage to Zhuge Liang's "devotion until exhaustion" spirit.
Note: Daoist elements include the "Palace of the Celestial Maiden," an alternate name for the Moon Palace suggesting immortal realms; "Wu Gorge's cloud-qi" often symbolizes the convergence of heaven-earth vital energies in Daoist cosmology.
These poems about the ancient cypress before Zhuge Wuhou's Temple depict the towering majesty of the old tree at Chengdu's Wuhou Shrine, conveying the poets' reverence for Zhuge Liang's legacy.
Li Shangyin's verses portray the cypress's gnarled branches—though rooted before the temple, it stands aloof and unyielding, enduring fierce winds. Like a pillar supporting a great hall, its innate grandeur awes the world without need for ornament. The poet reflects: those of noble purpose should not lament, for throughout history great talents have rarely found due recognition. Just as this ancient tree grows with bitter effort yet suffers termites' gnawing, its boughs will ultimately draw phoenixes to roost.
Lu Guimeng's poem emphasizes the cypress's mystical qualities: its evergreen foliage defying seasons, its unchanging erect posture over millennia, as if housing divine spirits within. The coiled roots resemble a crouching dragon gathering strength.
Duan Wenchang's "Ode to the Ancient Cypress" offers the most detailed depiction—the millennium-old tree before Wuhou Temple twists like a soaring dragon, its trunk so thick it requires multiple men to encircle. Its canopy blots out the sky, branches seemingly charged with storm winds. Beneath its shade no grass grows, only the austere hues of antiquity conversing with celestial breezes. The poet sees this cypress as embodying Zhuge Liang's spirit, witnessing his achievements in aiding the Shu Han dynasty, becoming the temple's most sacred auspicious symbol.
Gong Shitai's "Meditation on Antiquity" employs the "sword-river's flow" and "sunset at Wuzhang Plain" to allude to Zhuge Liang's unfinished northern campaigns. The falling star symbolizes the Martial Marquis's death, while the Shu Han's foundational enterprise ultimately remained unfulfilled.
This collection brings together eulogistic poems by various literati honoring Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled "Marquis Zhongwu"). Wu Cheng's poem depicts the desolate autumn scenery at Nanyang's Marquis Wu Shrine, asserting that orthodox historical judgment transcends mere success or failure—though Zhuge Liang never achieved reunification, his legacy of "dividing the realm into three" remains immortal.
Yin Zhongming's poem opens with heroic strokes: during Zhuge Liang's seclusion in Mianyang (modern Shaanxi's Mian County), neither Sun Quan nor Cao Cao dared underestimate him. The latter couplet employs classical allusion to suggest that without Liu Bei's sincere "Three Visits to the Thatched Hut," this unparalleled genius might have ended his days in rustic obscurity.
Chen Gangzhong's extended verse comprehensively traces Zhuge Liang's life: the late Eastern Han's chaos ("the Jian'an era's world like a rotting melon"), Liu Bei ("Big-Eared One," referencing his elongated earlobes) repeatedly visiting Zhuge Liang's hermitage ("laughing off his blue linen robe in Nanyang"). The poem references pivotal events—the Red Cliffs campaign ("ten thousand torches at Wulin"), the White Emperor City entrustment ("receiving the orphaned heir at Yong'an"), the "Chu Shi Biao" memorials ("two tear-stained petitions for northern campaigns")—particularly praising his peerless loyalty, declaring "no such virtue existed after the Three Dynasties."
The concluding imperial poem by Emperor Xianzong crystallizes the theme: as imperial scion ("Di Zhou"), Zhuge Liang emerged from Wolonggang to oppose treacherous warlords. It speculates that had his star not fallen (alluding to his death at Wuzhangyuan), both Wu and Wei would have submitted ("all paying homage").
The appended preface provides context: Zhuge Liang retreated to Nanyang during the Han dynasty's decline. Sima Hui (correction: character should be "Hui") told Liu Bei "he who understands the times is a hero," identifying Zhuge Liang as such; Xu Shu also recommended him to Liu Bei. This passage elucidates the historical backdrop of the "Three Visits" narrative.
Zhuge Liang (courtesy name Kongming, known as Master Crouching Dragon) was a reclusive sage. Would the general (referring to Liu Bei) be willing to meet him? Following Xu Shu's advice, Liu Bei personally visited his thatched cottage three times. They discussed the empire's situation, analyzing seventy to eighty percent of its dynamics, and concluded that the Ba-Shu region (modern Sichuan) was strategically vital for military operations—occupying it would create the tripartite balance of power. Later events unfolded exactly as Zhuge Liang had predicted. As Chancellor of Shu-Han, he devoted himself entirely until his dying breath. Since the Han dynasty, there has been no other loyal minister like him—is this not utterly convincing?
Li Bai lamented in his poetry: During the late Eastern Han's warlord fragmentation, Zhuge Liang tilled fields in Nanyang like a dormant dragon. Liu Bei's sincerity in making three visits mirrored the harmonious union of fish and water, ultimately culminating in their historic meeting that shaped the empire. Though Zhuge Liang established Shu's kingdom with ambitions to reclaim Chang'an, initially only Cui Zhouping (his close friend) recognized his worth. The poet compared himself to a wilderness recluse and, like Zhuge Liang in his later years, died with unfulfilled aspirations—yet hoped to leave behind an enduring friendship tale like Guan Zhong and Bao Shuya.
Yang Ji's verse observed: Deng Yu (a founding hero of Eastern Han) actively sought Emperor Guangwu, whereas Zhuge Liang awaited Liu Bei's three invitations. Heroes choose their moments differently—one cannot judge superiority by origins. Sun Quan and Cao Cao differed fundamentally from Liu Bei. Had Liu Bei not demonstrated such sincerity, Zhuge Liang might have remained a hermit forever. True wisdom lies in seizing the right moment, preserving one's purity like an unmarried maiden.
When Zhang Jiayi spent the night at Kuimen (near White Emperor City), he wrote: At dusk, he envisioned Zhuge Liang deploying his Eight Formation Diagrams here, where Du Fu too had once commemorated past sages. Never claim heroes fade into oblivion—they are precisely what makes mountains and rivers magnificent. Though separated by a millennium, both Zhuge Liang and Du Fu achieved immortality through deeds and literature.
Zhou Tan's historical poem pinpointed the crux: When Liu Bei suffered defeat in Yuzhou with nowhere to turn, Xu Shu recommended Zhuge Liang. Had Liu Bei not humbled himself with three visits, how could he have become Shu's ruler? These poems collectively outline the pivotal turn in Zhuge Liang's journey from reclusion to action—sparked by Xu Shu's recommendation but ultimately realized through Liu Bei's relentless sincerity, crystallizing the eternal legend of "Three Visits Weaving the Empire's Fate."
These poems are later compositions praising Zhuge Liang (styled Kongming, posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu), showcasing the loyalty and unfulfilled aspirations of this Shu Han chancellor.
Li Hua's "Ode to History" laments: A once-unified empire fractured into Three Kingdoms, where even ritual and music systems could hardly be maintained. Though blessed with virtuous ministers like Yi Yin and Jiang Ziya, the people wandered like scattered geese. The poem notes how Liu Bei (the Shu ruler) entrusted Zhuge Liang with commanding thousands in northern expeditions against Cao Wei, while Cao Cao (Lord Cao) employed Gongsun Zan only to meet defeat. While ruler-minister rapport matters, truly saving the people proved immensely difficult—Shu Han's plight was far worse than Cao Wei's.
Shen Zhou's "Reading the Chu Shi Biao" focuses on Zhuge's famed "Memorial on the Expedition": each character drips with blood and tears of loyal remonstration, embodying his foresight of "the empire divided in three" and gratitude for Liu Bei's "three visits to the thatched cottage." The "six marches from Qishan" refers to Zhuge's repeated northern campaigns, while "tenfold talent" alludes to Sima Yi's assessment that Zhuge's abilities surpassed his own tenfold. Yet before completing his campaigns, the hero passed like a meteor over wilderness—though his loyalty remains as unyielding as river-washed bedrock, his writings moving readers for millennia.
Liu Yin's "Liangfu Chant" employs concise strokes: greater achievements could have graced the Han court, had not Cao Cao (Cao the Deceiver) intervened. Yet like the endless Wen River flow, people still sing Zhuge's "Liangfu Chant" from his Longzhong days, his heroic spirit eternal.
Zhao Mengruo's colophon poems paint from multiple angles: first depicting people suffering like fish in boiling cauldrons. Zhuge might have remained reclusive, but Liu Bei's (Liu Xuande) sincerity in "three visits" moved him. Their "fish-water bond" describes their perfect rapport—even Shu's fall couldn't alter their original resolve. The poems mention setbacks like Jieting's loss and Jigu retreat, ending with helpless acceptance of "Han's mandate expired," still drawing tears when closing the scroll. The finale reemphasizes how this "life-and-death" ruler-minister bond forged through "three visits" became an eternal heroic paradigm.
Liu Xiyi's "Shu City Nostalgia" reflects through ancient ruins, collectively memorializing Zhuge's "devotion until death" spirit with other poems. These works highlight his unswerving loyalty, ambition to restore the Han, and the timeless regret of unfulfilled achievements.
This passage depicts the landscapes of Shu (present-day Sichuan region) and reflections on Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu). It begins by describing Shu's abundant waterways and bamboo groves, yet perpetually swept by harsh winds and frost, creating a vast, desolate atmosphere between heaven and earth. The ancient city walls, weathered by time, now leave only traces of blue-tiled towers that evoke memories of past splendor. The ancients have long turned to bleached bones buried beneath hills, yet the tranquil ambiance of places where they once plucked zither strings and read books still lingers.
The text mentions that both the "mystic turtle" (used for divination) and the "auspicious phoenix" have vanished, but remnants of Zhuge Liang's Eight Formation Diagram (an ancient military strategy layout) remain, with cypress trees standing in orderly rows. Under the bright moonlight, the author visits Nanyang's Sleeping Dragon Ridge (Zhuge Liang's hermitage), where the ruins of his thatched cottage and his portrait still stand solemnly.
The latter part conveys Huang Jingfang's reflections while paying respects at Zhuge Liang's shrine. Twice he journeyed south of Xiangyang to venerate the statue of this noble scholar, recalling how Zhuge Liang once built his dwelling among streams and valleys—unlike Yan Ziling (a recluse of the Eastern Han), who fished by the riverbank. Though it is unclear where the crows perch, all know this was the domain of the Sleeping Dragon (Zhuge Liang). The author reminisces about Liu Bei's three visits to the thatched cottage, lamenting that despite Zhuge Liang's extraordinary talent, he faced the predicament of Shu Han's limited territory and strength—like a dwindling flame or an unwinnable chess game.
The text particularly highlights Zhuge Liang's governance philosophy of "opening a sincere heart and upholding public justice," employing the Legalist wisdom of Shen Buhai and Han Fei to establish the Three Kingdoms' tripartite balance. It concludes with a mournful depiction of Wuzhangyuan (where Zhuge Liang passed away)—a desolate scene where the ancient well beneath the shrine murmurs sorrowfully, as if still grieving for this devoted statesman who exhausted himself in service.
Liu Wangzhi's Rhapsody on the Eight Formation Terrace recounts climbing Kuizhou's city walls (present-day Fengjie, Chongqing) with a friend to gaze upon the ruins of Zhuge Liang's Eight Formation Diagram, moved by his unwavering loyalty. He expresses regret that the world fails to truly understand this great man. The rhapsody describes a solitary terrace standing on a vast battlefield, its stone formations arrayed like geese poised for flight, evoking a profound sense of solemn desolation.
This passage depicts the life and spiritual character of Zhuge Liang (courtesy name Kongming, posthumous title Marquis Zhongwu). The opening imagery of darkened mountains and rivers metaphorically represents the turbulent political situation in the late Eastern Han dynasty. At that time, Zhuge Liang lived in seclusion in Nanyang (south of Deng County), awaiting an enlightened ruler like the virtuous Shang dynasty minister Yi Yin (also called Aheng). Only after Liu Bei (recognizable by his large ears) made three visits to his thatched cottage did he emerge to assist, much like how Zhang Liang (Zifang) aided Liu Bang (recognizable by his prominent nose) in founding the Han dynasty.
The text describes Zhuge Liang's wholehearted devotion to duty: his hands and feet developed calluses from constant toil, working tirelessly day and night. The "one dragon, one snake" metaphor illustrates his dual capacity—soaring like a dragon (as seen in commanding the Battle of Red Cliffs) while also withdrawing like a serpent (during the governance of Shu Han). When Cao Wei's massive army approached, he remained composed, deploying his famous Eight Formation Diagram (a tactical array with four heads and eight tails) by the river—a military formation later emulated by renowned generals like Ma Long and Li Jing.
The author particularly emphasizes how Zhuge Liang, fully aware of the Han dynasty's waning Mandate ("when fortune departs, the Dao is exhausted"), persisted in his Northern Expeditions until ultimately dying from exhaustion, coughing blood in service. Contrasted against Cao Cao and his son Cao Pi seizing power like thieving sparrows, Zhuge Liang's nobility shines brighter in his commitment to "persist when knowing success is impossible." The passage concludes with a riverside libation, honoring this wise statesman who perfectly embodied both loyalty and wisdom.
The mentioned "Eight Formation Diagram" was Zhuge Liang's renowned military formation—eight directional positions surrounding a central command post that could flexibly adapt to battlefield conditions. Author Yan Yuan built the "Pavilion of Celebrating Virtue" to commemorate Zhuge Liang, studying his governance strategies (such as impartial administration and strict military discipline) to honor this eternal exemplar who, despite leading weak Shu against mighty Wei, achieved immortal historical renown.
This passage depicts Zhuge Liang (styled Kongming, posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) and his extraordinary talents and historical achievements. Through contrastive techniques, the author portrays how Zhuge governed his troops with winter-like severity that commanded awe, his military prowess striking fear into enemy generals. When leading elite forces, adversaries could only endure humiliation behind fortified defenses; as a loyal minister, he bore disgrace with fortitude yet controlled battlefields with effortless composure, surpassing virtuous ministers of previous eras.
The text mentions the author's construction of a pavilion commemorating Zhuge, allowing visitors to understand his ingenious "Serpent Formation of Changshan" (a flexible tactical deployment) and recognize this unparalleled genius's immortal accomplishments. Yet heaven granted no longevity—Zhuge fell like a shooting star ("sudden descent of the long star" signifies his death) before fulfilling his aspirations, though his institutional legacy continued influencing frontier regions. The author thus warns contemporaries: when separatist forces (Xia bandits) usurp legitimacy and Central Plains people abandon civilizing traditions, how can those bearing frontier defense responsibilities remain negligent?
The latter section summarizes Zhuge's life in rhythmic prose: from a commoner tilling fields in Nanyang, emerging after Liu Bei's three visits to his thatched cottage, to campaigning northward employing Bagua (Eight Trigrams) formations derived from Hetu-Luoshu diagrams. "Winter sunlight" metaphorizes his benevolent governance for Shu subjects, while "autumn frost and jackals" contrast Cao Wei's tyranny, highlighting his seven captures of Meng Huo and confrontations with Sima Yi (Zhongda). The conclusion laments: without encountering enlightened rulers, such heroes might remain buried in history—expressing profound reflection on talent meeting opportunity.
(Note: "Guan-Yue" refers to Guan Zhong and Yue Yi; "Shen-Shang" denotes Shen Buhai and Shang Yang—all pre-Qin master statesmen.)
This Fu on the Eight Formations by Yang Weizhen celebrates Zhuge Liang's military genius and loyal spirit. The opening depicts how Zhuge was beloved by the people of Qinlong and Liangyi regions, much like how Zhou dynasty folk cherished the sweet pear tree of Duke Shao. His noble character surpassed that of hermits dwelling in mountain caves, while his governance skills outshone even renowned ministers like Xiao He and Zichan.
The text particularly highlights Zhuge Liang's military prowess: his campaigns were as trustworthy as Duke Wen of Jin's, and his army discipline as rigorous as the Zhou Gao decrees. He invented wooden oxen and gliding horses for grain transport and refined the Eight Formations tactics—later adopted by famous generals like Ma Long and Li Jing. On the battlefield, he slew Wang Shuang and Zhang He, striking fear into adversaries like Guo Huai and Sima Yi (Xuanwang).
As the author lingers at Kuimen (Qutang Gorge), he reflects on Zhuge Liang's legacy: though his "dragon drinking from the Wei" (northern expedition ambitions) faded with destiny, his "serpent poised to swallow Wu" (eastern campaign strategy) left an immortal legend. Locals still revere him, and tribal peoples remember his virtuous governance. The storm-washed Wu Gorge adds poignancy—even celestial omens cannot alter nature's law that heroes must eventually pass.
The latter section focuses on the Eight Formations: at treacherous Jiange, where chariots struggle, Zhuge deployed this formation. Derived from Fuxi's River Chart (Hetu-Luoshu), it encompasses sixty-four transformations, aligning with Yin-Yang principles. Within it, heaven and earth clash, winds and clouds churn—dragons soar, tigers pounce, serpents coil, and birds glide—unpredictable yet disciplined. Though confined to Shu's corner, Zhuge shone like a yellow star (an imperial omen), revealing ambitions to unite the realm.
This passage vividly depicts Zhuge Liang's (the Marquis Zhongwu) military genius and historical achievements through poetic metaphors that illustrate his art of warfare. The text describes how Zhuge Liang's military strategies maintained moral integrity while remaining flexible—like the serpent of Changshan (modern Zhengding, Hebei) that could coil and strike at will, or the raging rapids of Bashu that could shatter cliffs yet never alter their essential nature. His legendary Eight Formations battle array was so profoundly mysterious that even the Yellow Emperor and the Daoist immortal Tianmu would marvel at its ingenuity. The "wooden oxen and gliding horses" (his ingenious transport inventions) stood as testaments to his divine calculations.
The author blends scene-setting with emotional reflection, standing by the Lu River (Jinsha River) while envisioning Zhuge Liang's southern campaigns: with a mere wave of his iconic feather fan during troop inspections, he could devise strategies that sent enemies fleeing in panic. Recalling his military encampments at Weibin and his service to the Shu Han regime, the text contrasts his practical brilliance against the empty theorizing of pedantic scholars. Gazing westward toward Min Mountain and Emei, then south toward the Brocade River amidst desolate battlefields, the author laments that while such military arts may no longer suit contemporary times, this history still stirs the vigorous spirit within scholars.
The passage employs classical allusions to honor Zhuge Liang's sage-like military wisdom: "Pixiu" symbolizes his fierce armies, "white feathers" represent his signature fan, "Shangfu's Six Secret Teachings" alludes to Jiang Ziya's military strategies, while "the yellow battle-axe of Muye" recalls King Wu's conquest of the Shang dynasty—all elevating Zhuge Liang to the pantheon of ancient military sages.
This passage describes the achievements and regrets of Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) during the Three Kingdoms period. Sun Quan of Wu repelled the elite forces of Sima Yi from Wei through staunch defense, leaving behind now only broken cliffs and desolate riverbanks, where bitter mists shroud the reefs and mournful winds whip up the sands—all traces of past glory have vanished.
Gazing westward toward the foundation laid by Shu Han, the author sees Kuizhou (present-day Fengjie, Chongqing) commanding the strategic passage of Jingmen, with the towering Wu and Qutang Gorges (two of the Three Gorges of the Yangtze) standing majestically. Though Zhuge Liang's documents have long scattered, the remnants of his Bagua Formation (a military strategy he devised) still crisscross the land. Moonlight veils the misty sandbars, frost piles upon the shores, and the very wind and clouds seem to carry the sorrow and indignation of those days, startling even fish and birds into flight.
Though Zhuge Liang passed before fulfilling his ambitions, his noble reputation endures. Looking south, his ancestral temple stands solemnly, its gates shaded by pines and cypresses, its painted halls entwined with vines, its steps overgrown with wild grass—every elder who sees it sheds tears. Alas! This hero once let out a long cry in Longzhong, was sought out thrice by Liu Bei, and shared with his lord a bond as close as fish to water. Moved by the decline of the Han dynasty, he vowed to restore its fortunes, dividing the realm into three with Wei and Wu, yet never realized his dream of marching north to the Central Plains.
I lament that he was born in an unpropitious time. Had he lived in the age of the Three Dynasties' sages, he might have soared freely, but instead, he was thwarted by petty men. Great deeds are hard-won, years slip away swiftly, and the Dao of Heaven is lofty and inscrutable—few attain their aspirations, while many meet disappointment. Even were Confucius and Mencius alive in such an era, what could they achieve if the Great Dao went unheeded? Drifting on the river, I moor by its clear waters; climbing the mountain alone, with none to invite, I can only sing to myself: When the north wind rises, the Lu River turns cold; midstream, my thoughts turn to the sages of old. Born out of time, hardship takes its toll.
Regarding the ruins of the Bagua Formation, three theories exist: the Yongjia Xue clan claims one site at Yufu (present-day Fengjie, Chongqing), another at Guangdu (present-day Shuangliu, Sichuan), and a third at Mianyang (present-day Xiantao, Hubei). The Records of Chengdu state that the formation in Kuizhou follows a sixty-four-square pattern, the one in Mimu Town (present-day Xindu, Sichuan) a one-hundred-twenty-eight "vanguard" formation, and the one at Qipan Market (location unknown) a two-hundred-fifty-six "encampment" formation. The Yufu ruins likely correspond to the square pattern. Though the ancient strategist Fenghou (said to be Chancellor under the Yellow Emperor) left no verifiable records of his tactics, and later scholars like Ma Long and Dugu Ji wrote on the subject, only Zhuge Liang's remnants—bold and crystalline—remain eternally carved by the river's edge.
This passage depicts a traveler's journey to seek out the remnants of Zhuge Liang (styled Kongming, posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) and his profound reflections. Riding mythical chariots (referencing legendary flying vehicles like the Qigong and Guizhou from ancient lore), the visitor traverses Zangke (modern-day Guizhou region) and Mount Wawu, finally arriving at Yufu (present-day Fengjie, Chongqing, where Zhuge Liang deployed his famous Eight Formation Arrays).
Along the riverbanks, he observes scattered stone formations in varied configurations—some encircling like guards, some leaning as if bowing, others expansive like charging steeds or clustered closely together. These stone arrays are imagined as traces left by the divine whip of the Liaohai Sea, remnants of Yu the Great's flood control projects, or even stones leftover from Nüwa's sky-mending—some suggest they were formed from primordial Qi (vital energy) coeval with heaven, earth, water, and fire. The surging river, like ten thousand galloping horses from the west, washes against these eternal mystical stones.
As the traveler contemplates, he suddenly realizes: these stone formations are the vestiges of Zhuge Liang's "Eight Formation Arrays." He describes their ingenious layout—sixteen Heavenly Balance formations anchoring both ends, twelve Earth Pivot formations at the center; eight Wind formations aligned with celestial forces at the front, eight Cloud formations grounded in terrestrial energy at the rear. The arrays transform endlessly: the vanguard may coil like a fierce tiger, wind formations twist like spirit snakes; the rear can surge as soaring dragons, while cloud formations unfold like winged birds. Structured by the numerical patterns of seven, eight, nine, and six, with Heaven, Earth, Wind, and Cloud as the four cardinal directions, and Dragon, Tiger, Bird, and Snake as the four strategic variations, they form a complete eightfold system.
The text particularly emphasizes the tactical essence of the formations: the interplay of void and substance, the interchange of host and guest forces; mastering complexity through simplicity, awaiting exhausted foes with rested troops; confronting enemies with orthodox tactics while securing victory through unorthodox maneuvers. The arrays subtly embody the generative and restrictive principles of Yin-Yang, featuring layered command structures (central authority) and reserve forces (strategic reserves), while harmonizing sequences of yielding then asserting, hardness with softness. When formation gates open, mobile units strike with flexibility. Through resplendent imagery, the passage merges natural wonders with Zhuge Liang's military genius, extolling his "hidden dragon talent" (latent extraordinary ability) and divine stratagems.
This passage discusses Zhuge Liang's (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) military genius and his legacy of the Eight Formations Diagram (Bazhentu). This ancient battle formation functions as a unified whole when gathered, yet divides seamlessly into eight sections. Mastering its profound principles allows one to command troops with the ease of manipulating objects in one's palm.
Several historical anecdotes illustrate its power: the sound of bronze drums alone terrified southern tribes (Gelings), while his wooden oxen and gliding horses (invented transport devices) struck fear into enemies across Guanlong region. Even Meng Huo, chieftain of the southern tribes, marveled at this "divine might," and Sima Yi praised it as "extraordinary talent"—yet these were merely superficial manifestations of the Eight Formations' deeper wisdom. Later imitators created flashy formations with ornate names based on the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), but such attempts were like focusing on a sword's tip while ignoring the blade—grasping at trifles while missing the essence.
History records similar strategic triumphs: Feng Hou (Yellow Emperor's minister) used comparable tactics to capture Chi You, while Ma Long (Western Jin general) deployed "deer chariot" formations to crush Tufa Shuneng (Xianbei leader). Yet Zhuge Liang, this once-in-a-millennium genius, never fully realized his ambitions—his northern campaigns remained incomplete when he fell ill at Wuzhang Plains, leaving behind only poems like "Liangfu Yin" and legends of his meteoric rise.
Later observers reacted diversely to remnants of his formations: Huan Wen (Eastern Jin general) merely recognized the "Coiling Mountain Snake" formation, while Du Fu was moved to write "the river flows but stones stand firm" upon visiting the site. In truth, Zhuge's unwavering loyalty is eternally carved into these stones, guarded even by the River Deity (Chuanhou). The author reflects: Zhuge accomplished all that humanly could be done, yet Heaven's decree—the waning Han dynasty's fate—proved immutable, like trying to reverse the setting sun. We mustn't join vulgar judgments based solely on success or failure.
A concluding eulogy places Zhuge alongside legendary ministers like Lü Shang and Yi Yin, proclaiming his talents tenfold Cao Pi's and shaming even Sima Yi (who received women's garments as humiliation). If Cao Cao resembled a scurrying rat, Zhuge soared as a celestial dragon. The Eight Formations endure today, still radiating his wisdom. Though millennia have passed and cypresses still flourish, such greatness remains unmatched.
The ancient cypress tree at Zhuge Kongming's Temple in Chengdu has stood for countless years, its gnarled trunk twisting powerfully as it soars skyward in a most extraordinary manner. Du Fu once composed poetry about it, while Duan Wenchang wrote essays describing its marvels—verses many can still recite today. Local elders pass down stories that this tree began withering during the late Tang dynasty and further declined through the Five Dynasties period, yet none dared fell it as it grew within the temple grounds. Then in the fourth year of Qiande era (966 CE) during the Song dynasty, its withered branches suddenly sprouted anew in summer, flourishing with such vitality that witnesses marveled. People regarded this as an omen reflecting the nation's cycles of order and chaos, as if the heroic spirit of Marquis Wu (Zhuge Liang) had manifested—a truly wondrous occurrence. Artists were commissioned to paint its likeness, documenting the event's entirety for preservation by virtue-seeking generations.
Regarding the Eight Formation Diagrams (the renowned military阵法 created by Zhuge Liang), Zhao Bian recorded: The遗址 lies seventy li north of Chengdu's city walls at Mimou Town in Xindu, where the temple still stands. In his Collected Works of Lord Qingxian, Zhao noted Zhuge Liang used two stones as formation foundations at Eight Formation Village, totaling 130 sites. Each foundation stone was buried five to six inches deep with river rocks beneath. Elders transmit that these stones originally came in six types. Here, Zhuge instructed troops in advance-retreat and attack-defense tactics. Ancient records describe the formation with four gates opening outward, sixty-four pivotal points corresponding to the sixty-four hexagrams of the Bagua, arranged eight-by-eight across a perimeter of 471 paces—though now only half these pivotal points remain.
Wang Dang (a virtuous scholar from Meizhou) once discussed the Eight Formations on a stele before the temple, stating: The formation combines four qi (unconventional) and four zheng (conventional) units, its foundation square yet stable, its structure rigorously ordered. The interplay between qi and zheng resembles swirling winds and revolving sun—fluid in application yet circular in motion. The square configuration excels in defense: its compact structure makes it stand firm as forests, immovable as mountains, impenetrable as gathering clouds, thus thwarting enemy advances. The circular dynamic excels in offense: its rapid deployment strikes like thunder, swift as wind, fierce as fire, rendering foes defenseless. Though outwardly square, the formation conceals circular potential; though flexibly applied, it remains rooted in square fundamentals—hence its unfathomable depth. Qi and zheng cycle endlessly, advances and withdrawals looping without terminus, as defense and offense alternate in perpetual transformation.
This passage elucidates the profound application of the ancient military formation known as the "Eightfold Array." When deployed, the formation moves with the fluid coordination of a body directing its arms and fingers—five military divisions operating as one unified entity. Like the interconnected root system of a century-old tree, each unit maintains its autonomy while seamlessly cooperating with others, appearing chaotic yet maintaining perfect order.
The essence of this formation lies in dispersing enemy forces and confounding their minds. Divided forces weaken, confused soldiers retreat, and disoriented vision induces dizziness. Within the formation, commanders and troops rely on mutual support: commanders lead the troops, while weaker soldiers depend on stronger leaders, ensuring collective victory. When activated, soldiers advance like eagles swooping or rabbits darting—their unified assault carries the ferocity of a single warrior, with mounting momentum as unstoppable as crashing waves or plunging cliffs.
Enemies trapped in this array become like insects caught in webs, fish in baskets, or tigers ensnared in pits. Commanders can be repelled, soldiers annihilated, and even heavy equipment cannot escape—such is the might of the Eightfold Array. Its deployment follows the principle of "four extraordinary and four orthodox" positions (referring to distinct directional and functional arrangements), maintaining this structure both when stationary and when rotating during combat.
Military training requires methodical discipline, with sincerity as its foundation. Sincerity ensures endurance; endurance leads to natural mastery; natural mastery achieves spiritual transcendence. Drills should flow continuously like the movement of heaven and earth—when this state is attained, it is deemed divinely marvelous. Training methods include constructing circular earthen platforms, their dimensions calibrated to human physiology and tactical needs. During drills, extraordinary units rotate left while orthodox units rotate right: leftward rotation emphasizes external offense, rightward focuses on internal defense, with directional shifts adapting flexibly to battlefield demands.
This training methodology mirrors civilian principles of neighborhood mutual aid, while in military contexts it follows organizational hierarchy—ensuring soldiers support each other, share resources, rescue comrades in peril, and care for the wounded. These constitute the essential principles recorded in classical texts.
This passage discusses the "Eight Formations" (Bazhen) military system created by Zhuge Liang (style name Kongming, posthumous title Marquis Zhongwu) and its philosophical underpinnings.
First, it describes the military training system: Commanders were to instruct soldiers in loyalty, honesty, integrity, filial piety, familial harmony, and propriety—these being the fundamental teachings for military officers. Practical training included tactical maneuvers, archery and charioteering, combat techniques, vanguard operations, and strategies for breaking enemy formations and capturing generals. In peacetime, soldiers' strengths and weaknesses were recorded to distinguish the capable from the inept; in battle, their courage and timidity were noted to differentiate the strong from the weak. At year's end, promotions and demotions were determined based on battlefield achievements. Soldiers trained in this manner became firm yet not cruel, courageous yet principled, able to endure hardship and prosperity alike with their comrades, willing to live and die together without ever straying from righteousness—this was the essence of the Eight Formations.
Regarding its origins, several theories are mentioned: Some trace it to the "Constellation Snake Formation," an ancient tactical system that remained linear when stationary but could flexibly shift when attacked. Sun Wu (author of The Art of War) and Du Mu believed the Eight Formations were inspired by Huan Wen’s methods. Another view holds that Zhuge Liang synthesized military strategy with the principles of the Eight Trigrams (Bagua) to create it. The Eight Formations used the eight trigrams—Qian (Heaven), Kun (Earth), Zhen (Thunder), Xun (Wind), Kan (Water), Li (Fire), Gen (Mountain), and Dui (Lake)—to symbolize encompassing all directions. Flags of corresponding colors distinguished units by position, with yellow in the southwest representing Earth’s Virtue (De), aligning with the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) cycle.
In practice, the eight trigrams could generate sixty-four variations, and four formations could disperse into sixty-four squads. The "Chessboard Market" southeast of Chengdu marks the ruins of the Eight Formations camp, while sixty-four earthen mounds in Mimu Town to the north remain as remnants of the training grounds. The formations’ transformations were as profound as the trigrams themselves, capable of discerning divine virtue (De) and mirroring the nature of all things. Some mistakenly attributed its origins to esoteric Dunjia and trigram divination, but the text clarifies this as a misunderstanding.
The passage also mentions stone fortifications in Kuizhou (modern Fengjie, Chongqing) and the flatland formations in Mimu Town, demonstrating the system’s adaptability to land and water. Finally, it explains that the Eight Formations refer to eight tactical configurations: Heaven (symbolizing shelter), Earth (support), Wind and Cloud (change), Dragon and Tiger (movement and stillness), and Bird and Snake (coordination)—when winds rose from the earth, the Tiger formation responded; when clouds soared, the Dragon formation answered; the Bird formation maneuvered like flight, while the Snake formation lay concealed like hibernation.
This passage documents the remnants of the Eight Formation Diagrams (Bazhentu) created by Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) during the Three Kingdoms period. The text mentions three existing formations: the 64-square formation at Kuizhou (present-day Fengjie, Chongqing), the 128-head formation at Mimou Town, and the 156-camp formation at Qipan Market. While the Qipan Market site has disappeared, Mimou Town still preserves 127 earthen mounds, slightly differing from historical records—likely due to partial erosion over centuries.
The Eight Formation site at Yufu (present-day Baidi City in Fengjie) has survived the vicissitudes of time thanks to its natural protection by encircling rivers. Liu Fang, a Southern Song dynasty official, concerned about the site's potential disappearance, ordered soldiers to collect stones and restore it to its original state. The restoration meticulously preserved the geometric patterns—square and circular formations, straight and winding lines, with precise horizontal and vertical spacing—and carved the formation diagrams into stone for posterity. Liu also built a memorial temple for Zhuge Liang, where locals annually celebrate the "Taqi" folk festival on the seventh day of the first lunar month by walking the formation grounds.
Two historical anecdotes are cited: first, Meng Huo initially dismissed the formations but after being captured and released seven times, sighed in admiration; second, Sima Yi (courtesy name Zhongda) praised Zhuge as "a rare genius under heaven" after observing the formations. Though Eastern Jin general Huan Wen recognized it as the "Changshan Snake" formation, he failed to grasp its profound intricacies. The author humbly admits limited understanding of the formations' essence but insists on preserving them for future scholars.
Dated to the 18th year of the Shaoxing era (1148 CE) by Liu Fang of Chaoyang, the record concludes with a cross-reference to Liu Guangzu's "Wanli Bridge Chronicle" (title only). The formations employ a "zhang-as-unit" measurement system, with precise internal divisions and external markings indicating surrounding mountains, rivers, and city walls—a cartographic integration of artificial design with natural topography.
During his governance of Shu, Zhuge Liang moved the people with benevolence and sincerity, restoring the state nearly to an ideal condition through perfected legal systems and ritual music institutions. Spanning over a thousand years from the Zhou to Qin and Han dynasties, Zhuge Liang united Shu with Wu to resist Wei, forming the Three Kingdoms' tripartite balance and preserving the Han imperial legacy. His scholarship rivaled that of the virtuous Shang ministers Yi Yin and Fu Yue, while his achievements stood alongside the famed statesmen Guan Zhong and Yue Yi of the Spring and Autumn period. To this day, the people of Shu still recount his deeds.
Among the seven-star bridges east of Zuo Bridge outside Luocheng's southern gate in Chengdu stands the "Changxing Bridge" (also called Wanli Bridge). Folklore preserves two accounts: one tells of Zhuge Liang bidding farewell to Wu envoy Zhang Wen here, saying "These waters flow straight to Yangzhou ten thousand li away"; another recounts his sigh when seeing off Fei Yi's diplomatic mission to Wu: "A journey of ten thousand li begins here." Though weathered by centuries, this outwardly ordinary bridge remains immortalized through its connection to Zhuge Liang.
Now that the realm has reunified the lands of Wu and Shu, court-appointed officials governing Shu shoulder responsibilities comparable to Zhuge Liang's. Whenever officials cross this bridge, none fail to reflect on his noble character and monumental achievements. Upon assuming office, the current Shu administrator Lord Zhao first restored the Ancient Cypress Shrine, then rebuilt Zhuge Liang's temple and former residence. He often marveled: "The Duke of Zhuge was a rare polymath since the Three Dynasties (Xia-Shang-Zhou) — enforcing strict laws without arousing resentment, governing diligently with his ruler's trust. Only perfect impartiality could achieve this."
As a historic link between Wu and Shu, Wanli Bridge had been repaired by former administrator Lord Shen but remained rudimentary. Lord Zhao commissioned its reconstruction into a five-arched stone bridge with plank decking and covered corridors. The new structure stands majestic and stable, its colonnades dignified and orderly, completed without burdening the people, much to officials' satisfaction. When Lord Zhao ascends the bridge with guests, gazing upon misty waters and verdant banks, he invariably pauses to commune with antiquity. Who could say Zhuge Liang's ambition of uniting with Wu against Wei didn't constantly yearn toward the Central Plains? As Lord Zhao's subordinate, I've been honored to record this exemplary tale.
This passage is Ming dynasty scholar Yang Shen's record about the ruins of Zhuge Liang's Eight Formation Diagrams, focusing on two main points:
Regarding the two surviving sites of Zhuge Liang's military formations in Shu territory: One was located at Yong'an Palace in Kuizhou (present-day Fengjie, Chongqing), established when Zhuge Liang accompanied Liu Bei's eastern campaign against Wu to defend strategic points along the Yangtze. The other was at Mimu Town in Xindu, the suburbs of Chengdu, serving as Zhuge Liang's regular military training ground. The author emphasizes how these formations embodied Zhuge Liang's military philosophy of "planning thoroughly before action," where every campaign was meticulously calculated, never engaging unprepared.
Regrettably, just as Zhuge Liang was preparing his northern expeditions against the Central Plains, continuous rebellions by southern tribes diverted Shu-Han's military resources. Consequently, the ingenious tactics of the Eight Formation Diagrams were only deployed in suppressing the Nanman chieftain Meng Huo, never utilized against the primary adversaries Cao Wei and Sima Yi. The author employs a vivid analogy: like trying to extinguish a fire while thieves ransack one's home—even extraordinary talent couldn't manage both crises. The passage concludes by lamenting Shu-Han's doomed fate while affirming Zhuge Liang's enduring loyalty, explaining why later generations remain deeply moved when visiting these historic sites.
(Note: The Eight Formation Diagrams refers to Zhuge Liang's famous military tactical system; "the two Caos and three Simas" denotes the Cao Wei regime and its successor Sima clan; "seven captures and seven releases" alludes to the story of Zhuge Liang repeatedly capturing and freeing Meng Huo until the chieftain submitted wholeheartedly.)
This passage describes the marvels of the "Eight Formation Diagram" created by Zhuge Liang during the Three Kingdoms period and the surviving remnants of these formations. The text notes that prior to Zhuge Liang, Dou Xian of the Eastern Han Dynasty had already employed the eightfold battle formation to defeat the Xiongnu, and Ma Long of the Western Jin Dynasty used it to reclaim Liangzhou—demonstrating that this tactical configuration did not originate with Zhuge Liang, though it rarely survived in later generations.
The author Liu Yu once personally sailed through the Kuimen Gorge (near present-day Fengjie, Chongqing) to investigate the ruins of Yong'an Palace in search of remnants of the Eight Formation Diagram. During early spring when water levels receded, he observed from the mountain vantage a formation spanning over a hundred zhang, composed of eight rows and twenty-four piles meticulously arranged with small stones. Local inhabitants informed him that these stone piles would submerge during summer floods yet remain perfectly intact after waters retreated.
At another Eight Formation Diagram site in Mimo Town, Xindu (modern Xindu District, Chengdu), the terrain resembled city gates with elevated earthworks on all sides, featuring central mounds about three chi high. Though farmers occasionally leveled these mounds, they would mysteriously rise again within ten days. The author attributed this phenomenon to Zhuge Liang's profound sincerity invoking celestial protection—far beyond mere human maintenance.
In the inscribed colophon, Liu Yu marvels: While towering mountains and mighty waves eventually fade, certain bedrock and clear springs endure eternally—a testament to nature's wondrous craftsmanship. The Eight Formation Diagram ruins, having withstood millennia of river erosion, remain unmoved even when summer-autumn floods send waves crashing with such force that water dragons flee and the earth trembles—a truly astonishing sight.
On the second day of the first lunar month in the Gengyin year, after detailed shoreline investigation, the author discovered the site's mystical topography: upstream tributaries channel torrents that erode soft northern banks, yet the sandbar bearing the formations stands rock-firm mid-river; downstream, the Qutang Gorge and Yanyu Reef constrict currents, creating swirling eddies. This unique hydraulic geography explains how the formations survived centuries of floods—revealing Zhuge Liang's profound strategic foresight in selecting and arranging this battleground.
This stele inscription records the memorial text composed by Tang dynasty chancellor Pei Du in honor of Shu Han chancellor Zhuge Liang. The entire passage employs the formidable terrain of the Three Gorges as a metaphor to extol Zhuge Liang's extraordinary wisdom and loyalty.
The text states that the perilous rapids of Wu Gorge (referring to Yanyu Reef) remain unshaken by the rushing waters, just as Zhuge Liang's loyal heart never wavered. His strategic choice to establish a military stronghold at Yufu (modern-day Fengjie, Chongqing) - a location of formidable natural defenses - demonstrated his military genius in perfectly harmonizing "ultimate stillness" with "ultimate movement," enabling both solid defense and flexible offense. This wisdom allowed him to assist Liu Bei in reviving the Han dynasty's cause, an ambition as enduring as heaven and earth themselves.
The commemorative portion lavishes praise through numerous analogies: Zhuge Liang guarded Liangzhou (ancient Shu territory) like the protective Min Mountains and Black River, his presence radiating authority like the numinous essence of Emperor Yan. The text compares him to legendary ministers Jiang Shang (who aided King Wen of Zhou) and Zhang Liang (who served Liu Bang), asserting that only Zhuge Liang could salvage the Han dynasty during its decline. Special mention is made of his military deployments at Yufu City (White Emperor City), where he arranged formations with mystical precision (Taiyi referring to the esoteric Taiyi divination system of ancient military strategy) and employed ever-shifting tactics (the cyclical interplay of orthodox and unorthodox maneuvers) against the Wu and Wei states.
Pei Du concludes by emphasizing that his engraving seeks not to immortalize stone, but to etch Zhuge Liang's sincere devotion into eternity. He identifies four cardinal virtues embodied by Zhuge Liang: the integrity of serving one's lord, the talent for statecraft, the principles of personal conduct, and the methods of governance - making him a rare paragon through the ages. Even during the Han dynasty's collapse amidst warlord chaos, Zhuge Liang maintained the sage's demeanor of "harboring wisdom within while choosing the right lord to serve," ultimately electing to assist Liu Bei in restoring the Han dynasty's glorious enterprise.
When Zhuge Liang lived in seclusion in Nanyang working the fields, he often compared himself to ancient sages like Guan Zhong and Yue Yi. People at that time called him the "Crouching Dragon," just as the Book of Odes says: "Though the hidden dragon lies concealed, its radiance still shines brightly." Scholars like Xu Shu (styled Yuanzhi) and Cui Zhouping shared profound spiritual connections with him.
After Liu Bei's three visits, Zhuge Liang decided to emerge from seclusion to assist him. With a single strategic conversation, he mapped out the grand configuration of the realm: supporting Liu Bei to restore the Han dynasty, allying with Eastern Wu to resist Cao Wei, and establishing a regime in Shu. His governance extended to remote regions, and his moral influence permeated the land. Who says treacherous terrain alone makes a strong state? Who claims swift action alone forges elite troops? This proves geographical advantages aren't fixed, nor human nature immutable—the key lies in human refinement, like metal tempered in a furnace.
At that time, Cao Wei controlled seven of the nine provinces while Shu-Han held just one. Yet Zhuge Liang could initiate great enterprises from this remote corner, actively confronting stronger foes. His treasury remained full without oppressive taxation; his military campaigns never descended into wanton slaughter. When pacifying the south, he won hearts through virtuous governance (De); when intimidating the central plains, he looked beyond temporary victories to long-term strategy. His strict law enforcement left no resentment among the punished; his benevolence was remembered for generations. Here we see the sublime Dao transformed into divine state, sincerity manifesting as luminous virtue.
Regrettably, Chen Shou's Records of the Three Kingdoms failed to fully capture his brilliance, while Cui Hao's critiques questioned his achievements. These commentators evaluated his military leadership as mere cunning stratagems and discussed his transformative governance as aggressive tactics—how profoundly mistaken! His relinquishment of Jingzhou territory aimed to accumulate virtue (De) for greater purposes, refusing petty gains through brute force. Later, his troop movements through Xie Valley, garrison at Wugong, and agricultural garrisons revealed long-term planning—confronting enemies while awaiting opportunities. He commanded armies with such ease as if moving through unguarded lands, simultaneously breaking enemy morale while nurturing his own strategic advantage. Had Heaven granted him more time, he surely would have fulfilled Liu Bei's dying wish to restore the Han.
Though wielding supreme authority and unmatched fame, Zhuge Liang remained consistent in word and deed, his conscience utterly clear. Had he not borne a once-in-five-centuries heavenly mandate and possessed transcendent wisdom, how could he have reached such heights? Liu Bei, that exceptional judge of character, said obtaining Zhuge Liang was "like a fish finding water"; even Sima Yi (styled Zhongda), foremost of cunning strategists, had to praise him as "the world's extraordinary talent." Whenever I trace his deeds and fathom his profound intentions, I cannot help but set down these words in reverence.
This passage records the events of the tenth lunar month in the second year of the Yuanhe era (807 CE) during the Tang Dynasty, when the imperial court appointed Duke Linhuai (referring to Li Jifu) as chancellor to govern the turbulent southwestern regions. At that time, unrest still plagued these territories, prompting the court to dispatch a high-ranking official to restore order. The author draws parallels between Li Jifu's governance and the administrative achievements of Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) during the Three Kingdoms period, suggesting that while eras differ, the principles of effective governance remain constant.
The author modestly claims limited talent yet considers it an honor to document these events. While visiting Zhuge Liang's memorial temple, he observed that although people revered his accomplishments, no commemorative stele had been erected. Ancient tradition held that even minor benevolent deeds or governance of a single city warranted written records for posterity—how much more should a paragon of virtue like Zhuge Liang be memorialized? Thus, the decision was made to carve this stone stele, ensuring local remembrance for generations.
The inscription primarily extols Zhuge Liang's legacy: during Liu Bei's chaotic campaign to expand territories, it was Zhuge Liang's counsel that stabilized the Shu region. He fortified cities with moral virtue (De) and wielded ritual propriety as his weapon, nurturing the people like spring rains—inspiring labor without resentment. Through balanced authority and benevolence, he pacified minority tribes, marshaled troops along the Wei River, and made adversaries both fear his might and appreciate his humanity. Yet heaven's will proved inscrutable; Zhuge Liang passed before fulfilling his ambitions, and the Han dynasty ultimately declined. The text compares him to legendary ministers—Jiang Shang (Shangfu) of the Zhou and Yi Yin (Aheng) of the Shang—placing him alongside Guan Zhong, Yan Ying, Xiao He, and Zhang Liang as statesmen born to meet their era's needs.
The conclusion depicts Wuhou Shrine in Chengdu: ancient cypresses shade the solemn temple where incense still burns today. The limpid waters of the Jin River and the mist-shrouded peaks of Mount Yulei (northwest of Chengdu) stand as eternal witnesses to Shu's enduring reverence for Zhuge Liang. Through historical juxtaposition, the stele not only commends Li Jifu's achievements but more profoundly highlights how Zhuge Liang's "utter devotion unto death" continues to inspire generations.
This stele inscription records later generations' remembrance and evaluation of Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu). Both Sun Qiao and Lü Wen, two renowned literati, passionately extolled the achievements of this Shu Han chancellor.
The opening employs "the Red Emperor's descendant" (referring to Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang) as a metaphor for the decline of the four-century Han dynasty, likening it to dying embers. When the Han house was collapsing, Zhuge Liang alone shouldered the monumental task of restoration, attempting with his breath to rekindle nearly extinguished ashes—a nearly impossible endeavor. The author laments: it wasn't that Zhuge Liang lacked wisdom, but rather that heaven's will ordained otherwise.
The text particularly highlights Zhuge Liang's retreat in Longzhong (modern Xiangyang, Hubei), where he could have enjoyed pastoral tranquility, yet emerged from seclusion after Liu Bei's three visits to his thatched cottage, devoting himself entirely until death. With only the southwestern corner of the empire and tens of thousands of troops, he miraculously held his own against the powerful states of Wei and Wu, demonstrating peerless military strategy. The author refutes historical criticisms of his "lack of adaptability," arguing that had Zhuge Liang not died prematurely, the Wei rulers would never have had leisure to consolidate their defenses, nor could Zhong Hui and Deng Ai have so easily invaded Shu.
Lü Wen's temple record adds: during Zhuge Liang's reclusion in Nanyang, the world took little notice of him. Yet when entrusted with the heavy responsibility of guardianship and assuming Shu Han's governance, his fair rewards and punishments commanded universal respect. Five centuries after his death, people in the Liang-Han region still recount his deeds and maintain temples in his honor. The author considers Zhuge Liang's statesmanship far surpassing even that of the famous Spring and Autumn period ministers Guan Zhong and Yan Ying.
The allusions—"dwelling in Nanyang" and "three visits"—all refer to Zhuge Liang's life before emerging from seclusion; "tripod standing" denotes the Three Kingdoms division; "dragons battling in dark yellow" adapts the Book of Changes' phrase "when dragons fight in the wild, their blood is dark yellow," symbolizing fierce warfare. The entire text brims with reverence for this worthy chancellor who "bent his back to the task until death."
This passage describes the achievements and regrets of Zhuge Liang, the Chancellor of Shu Han during the Three Kingdoms period (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu). The text employs the imagery of a dragon to symbolize Zhuge Liang's extraordinary talents: his sphere of influence stretched like a dragon from the Guanzhong region (Xianhao) to the Heluo area, spreading his wings across the Central Plains with aspirations as lofty as soaring through celestial paths. He could have leapt like a fish through the Dragon Gate to annex Eastern Wu and ultimately unify the realm, yet his grand ambition remained unfulfilled due to his untimely death.
The author reflects with admiration: even a rare genius like Zhuge Liang, governing the small and sparsely populated state of Shu Han, enriched the people through frugality and strengthened the military with strict discipline. After Cao Cao's death, Sima Yi was no match for him, yet Shu's armies never succeeded in reclaiming the Central Plains. Some claim Zhuge Liang lacked skill in unconventional strategies, yet every campaign he launched defeated the enemy; others argue Shu's provisions were insufficient, yet he always ensured thorough preparation.
The text profoundly observes the principle of popular sentiment: people gravitate toward benevolent rulers, while tyranny makes them forget former allegiances. When Wang Mang usurped the Han throne, though he employed divine authority and coercion to make people abandon the Han dynasty, his efforts proved futile. By the late Eastern Han, the tyrannical reigns of Emperors Huan and Ling had become deeply ingrained. In such circumstances, Zhuge Liang's attempt to rekindle loyalty to the Han through righteousness faced immense difficulty.
The latter section presents the Tang Dynasty scholar Ren Yuan's stele inscription for the reconstructed temples of Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang. He asserts that righteousness ultimately overcomes brute force. Liu Bei, as a Han imperial clansman, sought to restore the dynasty from Shu Han—the very region where Emperor Gaozu of Han (Liu Bang) had risen—with Zhuge Liang's assistance. Zhuge Liang's character and statesmanship rivaled ancient sages like Yi Yin and Lü Shang (renowned ministers of the Shang and Zhou dynasties). Adept at adapting to circumstances while upholding fundamental principles, though his ideals remained unrealized, his loyalty and righteousness continue inspiring reverence centuries later.
(Note: Xianhao refers to Xianyang and Haojing, representing the Guanzhong region; Heluo denotes the Yellow and Luo River basins; Yi-Lü alludes to Yi Yin of the Shang dynasty and Lü Shang of the Zhou dynasty.)
Zhuge Liang adhered to moral principles in personal cultivation, implemented rigorous policies in governance, and commanded disciplined armies in military campaigns. Devoted to eradicating corruption and unifying the realm, he sought to fulfill the trust placed in him by his late lord Liu Bei, truly embodying the role of a national pillar. Their ruler-subject relationship operated with unwavering integrity and transparency, earning the heartfelt admiration of all discerning scholars across the land without dissent. Though ultimately thwarted by unfavorable circumstances, later generations reading his works or visiting his memorial temples would invariably shed tears of profound reverence. This steadfast commitment to the Dao (the Way) and righteousness rendered them blameless before heaven and earth, naturally commanding universal trust and respect.
Three li south of Chengdu lies Huiling Mausoleum, the burial site of Liu Bei (posthumously titled Emperor Zhaolie). East of the tomb stands an ancient temple complex. The main hall faces south, enshrining Liu Bei's statue, while a subsidiary temple to the southwest honors Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu), its towering ancient cypresses creating an aura of solemn dignity. Years of neglect had left the structures dilapidated, with sacred statues exposed to the elements.
In autumn 1158 (28th year of Shaoxing reign), the imperial court appointed Wang Gangzhong – then a Drafter of the Secretariat – as Academician of the Dragon Diagram Pavilion and prefect of Chengdu after selecting him as Sichuan's military commissioner. Upon assuming office the following April, Wang conducted the customary temple inspections. Shocked by the decay, he remarked: "None have contributed more to Shu's people than Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang. How can we tolerate such neglect of their shrines?" He immediately ordered restoration.
Construction commenced that October and concluded in March 1160. Though nominally a renovation, it effectively constituted complete reconstruction. The new temples stood majestic and luminous, with vibrant colors and robust structures. A previously nonexistent wing of serene chambers was added north of Zhuge Liang's shrine for ritual participants' repose. The project employed 11,678 workers at approximately two million cash in costs, with timber and bamboo procured commercially to avoid burdening the populace.
This passage documents the deeds of Zhuge Liang (Marquis Zhongwu) during the Three Kingdoms period and the historical evolution of his ancestral shrine.
The text begins by mentioning Fei Yi, a minister of Shu Han, who was commissioned to write Zhuge Liang’s biography. Feeling inadequate for the task due to his limited literary talent, Fei repeatedly declined before reluctantly taking up the brush. The author suggests that Zhuge Liang’s approach to governance aligned more closely with the "Way of the True King" (rule through benevolence and righteousness) rather than the "Way of the Hegemon" (rule through power and strategy). The harmonious relationship between Liu Bei (Emperor Zhaolie) and Zhuge Liang stemmed from their deep understanding of the Way of the True King.
The text recounts how Zhang Gangzhong, a native of Poyang, restored Zhuge Liang’s shrine while governing Shu. Diligent in administration, Zhang revitalized the region, and the shrine’s restoration was just one of his many achievements. The author reflects that had Zhuge Liang fully realized his ambitions, restoring the Han dynasty and reviving ritual and music would not have been difficult.
The passage then details the shrine’s historical trajectory: from Liu Bei assigning Zhuge Liang to govern three commanderies after the Battle of Red Cliffs, to his ascent up the Yangtze alongside Zhang Fei and Zhao Yun during the conquest of Shu, and finally to Liu Bei’s deathbed entrustment at Baidi City. While remnants of the legendary "Eight Formation Diagram" still exist, the exact location of Zhuge Liang’s encampment at Wolonggang (Crouching Dragon Ridge) has been lost. The name "Wolong" (Crouching Dragon) for the mountain first appeared during the Yongping era of the Jin dynasty. In the Tang dynasty, a shrine to Zhuge Liang (Wuhou Shrine) was built in the western outskirts of Kuizhou Prefecture. The shrine mentioned in Du Fu’s poetry was later converted into a temple at an unknown time, eventually falling into ruin.
The author laments that even natural landscapes seem to preserve Zhuge Liang’s legacy better than people, who failed to safeguard these historical sites—a poignant observation. The passage concludes by noting that while talented individuals emerge in every era, a chancellor of Zhuge Liang’s caliber—both in achievement and moral virtue—remains exceptionally rare.
This passage evaluates Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu), the chancellor of Shu Han during the Three Kingdoms period. The author argues that those who truly understand history recognize that Zhuge Liang shouldered a grand mission concerning the rise and fall of the realm, while the ambitions of Sun Quan's Eastern Wu appeared narrow in comparison.
During the tripartite division of power, Shu Han was the weakest faction. Liu Bei (posthumously titled Emperor Zhaolie) often suffered military defeats, yet the people of the time still regarded Shu Han as the legitimate successor to the Han dynasty. Though Eastern Wu boasted more talented individuals than both Shu and Wei, achieving remarkable victories such as capturing Jiangling and triumphing at the Battle of Xiaoting, they excelled only at undermining allies rather than properly utilizing their talents. For instance, when Guan Yu attacked Cao Ren in Jingzhou, Cao Cao even considered relocating the capital to avoid his momentum—a situation that had nothing to do with Eastern Wu. Yet Sun Quan submitted to Wei as a vassal in exchange for an opportunity to attack Guan Yu, revealing his lack of ambition to unify the realm.
After Liu Bei's failed punitive campaign against Wu following Guan Yu's death, Shu Han should have harbored even greater resentment toward Wu. Yet Zhuge Liang set aside this enmity because he understood that the greater adversary was Wei, which had usurped the Han's legitimacy. Had Shu Han focused solely on revenge against Wu, Wei would have reaped the benefits. The world remembers the military feats of Zhou Yu, Lü Meng, and Lu Xun in defeating formidable foes, while Zhuge Liang merely held off Sima Yi at the Wei River, seemingly achieving less. Yet for over a thousand years, people have revered Zhuge Liang as a sage comparable to the paragons of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties—precisely because of his broader vision for the realm.
Nearly a millennium has passed since the Three Kingdoms era, and people can freely discuss its triumphs and failures. Yet none of Wu’s celebrated generals have enjoyed enduring veneration, while Zhuge Liang has been continuously worshipped by the common folk in Shu. Though court rituals initially forbade it, a temple was eventually erected in Mianyang, and to this day, Kuizhou still honors his memory. The grand Wuhou Shrine in Chengdu stands as a testament to his legacy, where visitors still feel the presence of his spirit. For this reason, the author commissioned the monk Huilian of Wolong Temple to establish a shrine and paint Zhuge Liang’s portrait—both to console the people’s reverence and to record the achievements of this great man.
This passage records the stele inscription composed by Southern Song official Zhang Zhen for the temple of Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu). Through historical comparisons, the author Zhang Shi expounds on Zhuge Liang's noble character.
During the era of the Five Hegemons in the Spring and Autumn period, utilitarian thinking became prevalent, and rulers no longer valued the benevolent and righteous ways of ancient sage-kings. While the Qin state conquered the realm through military might, it also rapidly collapsed. Liu Bang, the founding emperor of Han who rose from humble origins, succeeded in uniting heroes to establish the Han dynasty precisely because he adopted Dong Gong's principle that "benevolence does not rely on bravery, nor righteousness on brute force." Four hundred years later when Cao Cao usurped the throne, Zhuge Liang emerged to assist Liu Bei and his son in establishing a regime in Shu, consistently upholding the righteous cause of quelling rebellion without calculating relative strengths or advantages—his moral integrity rivaled that of virtuous ministers from the Three Dynasties of antiquity.
Zhuge Liang's famous declarations—"The Han and traitors cannot coexist" and "Bending my back to the task until death"—manifest his utter loyalty. Though his northern expeditions remained unfinished at his death, his achievements in upholding the proper way and rectifying human hearts endure eternally, shining like the sun and moon. The most vital principles between heaven and earth are the Three Bonds and Five Constants (the ways of ruler-minister, father-son, and husband-wife), which distinguish humans from beasts. Those who pursue only profit and loss while violating heavenly principles cannot maintain their gains, even if they seize the realm. This explains why Zhuge Liang never abandoned his righteous mission against rebels until his dying breath.
At the onset of the empire's great turmoil, Zhuge Liang lived in reclusion at Longzhong. Only after Liu Bei—as a scion of the imperial house—visited his thatched cottage three times did he emerge, revealing his transcendent character. In governance, he emphasized fundamental laws; in warfare, he adhered to righteous principles and clear regulations, never resorting to deceitful stratagems.
This passage primarily recounts Zhuge Liang's (the Martial Marquis) noble virtues and the enduring commemorations by later generations. Throughout his life, Zhuge Liang maintained absolute impartiality without the slightest indulgence or leniency—a state of moral attainment scarcely reachable by posterity. As evidenced in his "Memorial on the Expedition," no worldly desires could shake his resolve, a testament to his profound self-cultivation that naturally manifested as lofty integrity. Zengzi said, "A scholar must be broad-minded and resolute," while Mencius declared, "Uncorrupted by wealth and rank, unmoved by poverty and obscurity, unyielding to power and force"—Zhuge Liang embodied precisely such magnanimous character.
After his passing, the people of Shu mourned him deeply, establishing roadside shrines in his memory. Emperor Liu Shan later approved officials' proposal to erect a temple in Mianyang (present-day Shaanxi's Mian County). Over a millennium later, numerous ancestral halls across the former Shu-Han territories continue their sacrificial rites, demonstrating the far-reaching impact of his benevolent influence. The original shrine at Hengzhou's Shigu Mountain is documented in Records of Shu: when Liu Bei governed Jing Province, Zhuge Liang, as General of the Household and Central Army, garrisoned at Linzheng (modern Hengyang, Hunan), overseeing tax collection from Lingling, Guiyang, and Changsha commanderies to supply military provisions. Since the Zheng River flows past Shigu Mountain's left flank into the Xiang River, establishing a shrine there was wholly fitting. Poetic steles by Han Yu and Prefect Jiang Fang attest to this shrine's ancient origins.
In the Wuzi year of Qiandao reign (1168), Wan Chengxiang, Fiscal Commissioner of Hunan Circuit, traced historical sites through local records and discovered the shrine's ruins amidst wilderness. Collaborating with Judicial Commissioner Zheng Sitai and Hengzhou Prefect Zhao, they relocated and reconstructed it on higher ground. They commissioned Zhang Shi (a Southern Song Neo-Confucian scholar) to compose the commemorative inscription. Zhang Shi held that Zhuge Liang's fame required no shrine for glorification, nor his spirit any stele for elucidation. Yet places touched by sages seem to imbue their landscapes with lingering radiance—marking these traces for posterity inspires reverence in observers, particularly meaningful in eras of moral decline. Humbly acknowledging his limited literary capacity to capture even a fraction of Zhuge Liang's grandeur, Zhang Shi expressed profound reverence and trepidation.
The text concludes by noting the old shrine's original location—thirty-six paces west along the southern city wall—though no surviving steles remain for verification. Through historical accounts and local relics, this narrative illuminates Zhuge Liang's sublime spiritual character and its lasting legacy.
This passage records how Southern Song official Wang Shipeng oversaw the reconstruction of Zhuge Liang's temple. The mentioned White Emperor City (modern-day Fengjie, Chongqing) was where Liu Bei entrusted his orphaned son to Zhuge Liang during the Three Kingdoms period. The original Temple of Marquis Wu (Zhuge Liang) there had fallen into disrepair.
Upon assuming office, Wang visited the old temple and found it cramped and low-ceilinged, surrounded by common dwellings with sewage flowing freely—hardly a dignified setting befitting a sage's memorial. He particularly noted a city platform 185 paces east of the temple gate, from which one could see the famous remains of the Eight Formation Diagram (a military array designed by Zhuge Liang), with the ruins of Yong'an Palace (where Liu Bei made his deathbed entrustment) to the north. Nearby, the Qingrang River flowed between two mountains into the Yangtze, passing eastward through Yanyu Rock before entering the Three Gorges, while the towering White Salt Mountain (on the northern bank of Qutang Gorge) dominated the majestic landscape.
Wang reflected: Here on these sandbars, Zhuge Liang once strategized for the realm; at Yong'an Palace he accepted his sacred trust. Though the palace now lies in ruins while the river flows unchanged, his spirit endures. Such historic ground deserved a proper memorial. After consulting colleagues, Wang converted the former residence of a military administrator into a new five-bay temple, repurposing original timber with refined craftsmanship, adding southern and western gates for accessibility.
The new temple retained original statues but refreshed their painted vestments. Notably, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei's statues were placed beside Zhuge Liang (his wife's statue, deemed ritually inappropriate as a primary offering, was moved to a separate chamber). Left walls displayed official historical biographies with biased commentary removed; right walls engraved Du Fu's poems praising Zhuge Liang, followed by other literati works. Completed in April 1167 (third year of Qiandao reign), Wang commemorated the project with a rhapsody. Beginning with "White Salt Mountain piercing the heavens, Yanyu Rock guarding the Yangtze," he praised Zhuge Liang as a soaring sleeping dragon, envisioning the riverside temple—fronting the Eight Formation Diagram and backing Yong'an Palace ruins—as an eternal abode for his heroic spirit.
This inscription extols the lofty virtues and achievements of Zhuge Liang (Marquis Zhongwu). It states that only those possessing the most expansive and unyielding Qi (vital energy) can practice the most impartial and upright Dao (Way). This righteous energy existed before the formation of heaven and earth, and permeated the universe afterward—neither created by sage rulers like Yao and Shun, nor extinguished by tyrants like Jie and Zhou. It represents the true righteous energy of heaven and earth.
The ancients could remain humble in prosperity, steadfast in adversity, and unshaken even when facing life-and-death crises precisely because they excelled at cultivating this righteous energy. After Confucius, Mencius was the greatest cultivator of this energy; after Mencius, none surpassed Zhuge Liang. During the late Eastern Han Dynasty, when Emperors Huan and Ling lost their De (Virtue) and Cao Cao usurped power, most strategists flocked to Cao Cao's side. Only Zhuge Liang remained reclusive in Longzhong, unconcerned with fame—until Liu Bei visited his thatched cottage three times. Emerging like a hidden dragon soaring or a fierce tiger descending the mountain, he assisted Liu Bei in reviving the Han dynasty's foundation in distant Shu, wresting the people back from warlords' grasp.
Zhuge Liang achieved this because he adhered to the most impartial and upright Dao, acting decisively and appropriately without the slightest selfish thought. How could this be possible without prior cultivation of unyielding energy within? Later, during his Northern Expeditions, he aspired to water his horses in the Yellow River and reclaim Luoyang—yet Heaven denied the Han its favor, claiming his life at the height of his endeavors. But true gentlemen judge heroes not by success or failure. Had Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang lived longer, Han's restoration would have been imminent.
The text particularly highlights the "Chu Shi Biao" (Memorial on the Expedition), praising its governance principles as radiantly upright—utterly devoid of deceit—comparable to the "Yi Xun" and "Yue Ming" chapters in the "Book of Documents." The ancients said those unmoved to tears when reading the memorial must lack loyalty, demonstrating its profound emotional power. Today, Zhuge Liang's temple in Chengdu still stands with unbroken sacrificial rites, just as the inscription concludes: "The sacrifices continue unceasing—like this ever-flowing water," expressing eternal reverence from later generations.
This stele inscription documents the restoration process and significance of Nanyang's Zhuge Academy (a shrine commemorating Zhuge Liang). At that time, people found Zhuge Liang's shrine in severe disrepair—with collapsed buildings and overgrown weeds—a sight that pained all who saw it.
After paying respects at the site, local official Mahama (the Duty-Upholding Duke and Regional Inspector) lamented: "Zhuge Liang was the virtuous chancellor of Han who upheld justice and illuminated the proper Dao (Way), rendering immense service to later generations. If we allow his shrine to remain dilapidated and sacrificial rituals discontinued, how could we local officials not feel ashamed?" He then collaborated with fellow officials Li Yuan, Cheng Guoseng, and Huxin to plan the restoration.
Completed in the spring of the Gengzi year, the renovated shrine featured a newly sculpted statue of Zhuge Liang at the center, flanked by accompanying statues of Guan Yu (Yunchang) and Zhang Fei (Yide). Zhuge Liang's statue wore a scholar's headscarf and held a feather fan, its dignified bearing commanding reverence. Additionally, over 200 mu of farmland was allocated to cover the shrine's ongoing incense and maintenance expenses.
The author reflects that these officials demonstrated genuine piety. The text also preserves local folk hymns composed for deity-welcoming ceremonies, whose essence conveys: "Zhuge Liang arrives riding wind-blown chariots, departs leaving clear breeze and bright moon—though invisible to eyes, his beneficent influence eternally dwells in human hearts."
The stele bears the signature "Cheng Jufu," identifying him as the commissioner of this commemorative monument for Zhuge Academy's restoration. Notably, the text refutes certain Song dynasty historians' disparagement of Liu Bei (Emperor Zhaolie) and Zhuge Liang, emphasizing Liu's imperial Han lineage and Zhuge's role as a worthy minister serving an enlightened ruler.
This passage documents the Yuan dynasty imperial court's establishment of a temple and school complex dedicated to Zhuge Liang.
In the twelfth month of winter during the fourth year of the emperor's reign, the Grand Academician of the Jixian Institute (a high-ranking civil official), subject Hao, submitted a memorial stating: While serving by the emperor's side, he felt deeply inadequate in talent and virtue to repay the enlightened ruler's grace. He believed promoting the Dao of sages, honoring the deeds of worthies, improving popular customs, and propagating transformative teachings were fundamental duties of a minister.
The text mentions a place called Sleeping Dragon Ridge seven li west of Nanyang City, where there exists a Zhuge Well—traditionally regarded as the former residence of Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu), the Han dynasty chancellor. Local people conducted annual sacrifices there, but the rituals had become disorderly and disrespectful. During the Zhida era, He Zhang, the provincial administrator of Henan, inspected agricultural affairs in the region and was deeply troubled by this situation. He considered Zhuge Liang a rare sage since the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou), noting that even distant Wuchang had built temples in his honor—how much more appropriate it was to properly commemorate the place where he had actually lived.
Thereupon, He Zhang selected an empty plot east of the existing shrine and assigned local official Zhao Shouxun to oversee construction. Using government funds for materials and high-quality timber and stone from nearby mountains, they carefully planned the project. Work began in spring of the second year of Zhida, expanding Zhuge Liang's shrine while constructing a Confucius Temple to its east, with a school established behind it. The complex ultimately included twelve shrine halls and forty-six school buildings—dignified in style without extravagance. Completed in autumn of the first year of Huangqing, forty qing of government-owned farmland were allocated as school fields, with one Headmaster appointed for administration.
Finally, the court deliberated and decided: The Confucius Temple would follow established conventions, naming its main hall "Hall of Great Completion" (Dacheng Dian) and its gate "Gate of Great Completion" (Dacheng Men). Zhuge Liang's shrine would be named "Marquis Wu Shrine" (Wuhou Ci), adopting his famous admonition from Admonitions to My Son—"Without tranquility, one cannot clarify their purpose"—as its guiding principle.
This passage documents the establishment of an academy commemorating Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu), along with an appraisal of his historical achievements.
The imperial court decreed that the lecture hall be named "Zhuge Academy," with the eastern study quarters called "Mingzhi Studio" (Clarifying Aspiration) and the western quarters "Guangcai Studio" (Expanding Talent), while the library tower was named "Chongwen Pavilion." A Hanlin academician was commissioned to inscribe the plaques and compose the stele text.
The author reflects that after the decline of Zhou dynasty rituals, Confucius composed the Spring and Autumn Annals to establish the moral principles between ruler and subject. During the late Han dynasty, when Cao Cao usurped power, it was Liu Bei who upheld the banner of righteousness, while Zhuge Liang steadfastly advocated the principle that "the Han and traitors cannot coexist," tirelessly working to restore the Han dynasty and reaffirm the ruler-subject ethics of the Spring and Autumn Annals. Even children learned to condemn Cao Cao and revere the Han—all due to Zhuge Liang’s legacy. Following the tradition that "those who benefit the people deserve veneration," it is particularly fitting to establish a shrine at Zhuge Liang’s former residence.
Now that the realm is at peace, scholars and officials should emulate the sages. Establishing this academy not only honors past worthies but also teaches the proper relationship between ruler and subject. The text concludes with a poetic eulogy: Heaven endows the people with virtue, and the sovereign establishes governance. Though the Kingly Way (Wangdao) once declined into chaos, without Liu Bei’s restoration of the Han and Zhuge Liang’s upholding of the Spring and Autumn principles, the orthodox lineage would have been severed. By the Han River in Nanyang, that thatched cottage veiled in mist bore witness to Zhuge Liang’s talents, rivaling the ancient ministers Yi Yin and Lü Shang, and his aspirations matching those of Emperor Guangwu (Liu Xiu). Though he once tilled the fields, he ultimately shouldered the responsibility of rectifying the realm. Now, with this temple-academy dedicated to him, the Son of Heaven honors the memory of this devoted and tireless sage-minister.
This stele inscription documents the reconstruction of Zhuge Liang's Academy during the Yuan Dynasty. When Emperor Renzong had reigned for ten years, he perfected various ritual systems, selected talents through imperial examinations, summoned recluses to serve the court, and appointed Confucian scholars to government positions—all aimed at transforming social customs. During his inspection tour of Nanyang, Wang Wei, the Pingzhang (high-ranking official) of Bian Province, paid homage at Zhuge Liang's temple. Deeply moved by the achievements of this Shu Han chancellor, he proposed establishing an academy to cultivate talents.
Cheng Hao, the Grand Academician of the Jixian Institute (official in charge of education), memorialized the proposal. Meng Fu, the Zhongshu Pingzhang (chancellor-level official), oversaw the architectural planning, while Zhao Mengfu, the Hanlin Academician Recipient of Edicts (chief court scholar), composed the inscription and wrote the seal script heading. After six to seven years of preparation, in the spring of the sixth year of the Zhiyuan era (1269), Yan Shou, the Academy Headmaster, reported to local officials including the prefect Tuotuo. Under joint supervision by regional authorities, the stele carving project was swiftly completed.
The inscription particularly emphasizes that establishing the academy served not only to commemorate Zhuge Liang but also to enable teachers and students to perceive imperial grace through this monument, comprehend the Dao of sages, and cultivate practical talents capable of statecraft—rather than producing pedantic scholars merely versed in rote scripture study. The text concludes by recording that in the jichou year of Zhiyuan (1289), Academy Headmaster Yuan Shida visited the recluse Zhang Jizu, requesting him to document this reconstruction of the Confucian academy. The entire inscription reflects the Yuan rulers' governance philosophy of venerating Confucianism to civilize the populace, as well as Zhuge Liang's enduring influence as a paragon of loyal ministers.
This passage documents the reconstruction of Zhuge Liang's Academy during the Yanyou era of the Yuan dynasty. Local people had maintained a shrine to Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) for many years, which was repaired during the Dade era with Guan Yu and Zhang Fei added as subsidiary deities. In 1315 (Yanyou 2nd year), the emperor decreed the establishment of Kongming Academy. The Central Secretariat and Hanlin Academy established its academic structure: the main hall was named "Hall of Great Completion," the pavilion called "Tower of Esteeming Culture," and the lecture hall titled "Hall of Quiet Achievement" after Zhuge Liang's dying instructions. The side chambers were inscribed with "Clarifying Aspirations" and "Expanding Talents" respectively - all built to grander specifications than before. The court bestowed the official name "Imperially Commissioned Zhuge Liang Academy," allocated farmland to support teachers and students, and appointed a shanzhang (academy head) for administration.
After forty years of weathering, the academy buildings had deteriorated severely. The newly appointed prefect Zhuang argued that the court's elevation of Marquis Wu's shrine to academy status demonstrated Confucian reverence for the Dao, and neglecting repairs would contradict imperial intentions. The shanzhang thus summoned craftsmen for comprehensive renovations: rebuilding the Hall of Great Completion and other main structures, repainting statues of sages, restoring plaques and perimeter walls, crafting over 100 ritual vessels including incense burners, wine vessels (zun, lei, jue, dian), and sacrificial utensils (bian and dou), adding three eastern and western dormitories each, and installing new memorial tablets for Jiang Wan (Zhuge Liang's successor) and nine other generals including Zhuge Zhan (Zhuge Liang's son) - all additions unprecedented in previous eras.
The author reflects finally: Zhuge Liang's reputation shines brighter through the academy, and his achievements grow more illustrious through Confucian teachings. Only the Southern Song Neo-Confucian scholar Zhang Shi (style name Nanxuan, author of Biography of Han Chancellor Zhuge Zhongwu) truly grasped Zhuge Liang's spiritual essence. Prefect Zhuang oversaw this reconstruction, and the author composed this commemorative stele inscription at his request to transmit these events to posterity.
This stele inscription records the restoration of the Zhuge Wuhou Shrine in Nanyang. Wolonggang was the residence of Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu), for whom locals built a memorial shrine. During the Zhida era of the Yuan dynasty, Henan provincial official He Wei, finding the shrine too modest, expanded it and established the Zhuge Academy on its eastern side. Yet with the passage of time, the academy fell into disrepair and the shrine gradually deteriorated.
In the fifth month of the first year of the Hongxi reign (1425) during the Ming dynasty, newly appointed prefect Chen Zhenglun came to pay respects. Witnessing the shrine’s dilapidated state—so ruined it could no longer shelter visitors from wind and rain—he lamented: "Should not the merits of Marquis Wu be honored through the ages, especially at the very place he once dwelled?" He thus summoned craftsmen during the agricultural off-season to rebuild it. By the tenth month of that year, the main hall of three bays was completed, with other structures following in succession. The next spring, newly arrived officials—Vice Prefect Zhang Yong, Judge Si Xian, and County Magistrate Li Huangui—joined forces to advance the project. Soon, side chambers were erected, enclosing walls built, and a new gate added, finally restoring the shrine to completeness. At its center stood a statue of Marquis Wu, surrounded by solemn pines and cypresses.
The author Wang Zhi extols Zhuge Liang’s loyalty in aiding Liu Bei to restore the Han dynasty, praising his moral integrity as radiant as the sun and moon—so commanding that even his rival Sima Yi (courtesy name Zhongda) held him in awe, far beyond what historians like Chen Shou could fully capture. The inscription concludes by noting how the restoration succeeded through the support of virtuous officials, transforming what was once neglected into a renewed site, serving as inspiration for future generations.
This passage records the veneration and sacrificial rites dedicated to Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) in later generations. It describes how Chen Zhenglun, an official in Nanyang region, oversaw the construction of a temple for Zhuge Liang. Every year on the 28th day of the eighth lunar month, he would lead officials in conducting solemn sacrificial ceremonies with shaolao offerings (sheep and pigs as ritual sacrifices). The entire process was dignified and properly observed, earning Chen Zhenglun praise from local people as a noble gentleman who upheld virtue (De).
The author reflects that since the decline of the Zhou dynasty, the systems of rites and music gradually deteriorated. By the late Han period when Cao Cao seized power, he coerced the heroes of the realm through political machinations, thereby undermining the ethical principles of the Three Bonds and Five Constants (sangang wuchang). Only Zhuge Liang remained steadfast in his mission to restore the Han dynasty. In his "Memorial on the Expedition" (Chushi Biao), he clearly articulated the legitimate succession of authority, exposing Cao Cao as a usurping traitor to the world and thus preserving moral principles. Therefore, later generations should commemorate this great restorer of righteousness through sacrificial rites.
The text particularly emphasizes that although the Wu kingdom had numerous talented individuals who ultimately submitted to Cao Wei, Zhuge Liang alone persisted in his campaign against the Cao clan. The author contends that Zhuge Liang's achievements extend beyond stabilizing the state and diligent governance—his true merit lies in rectifying ethical principles, a contribution worthy of perpetual veneration. While contemporary officials may be preoccupied with administrative duties, they must not neglect these essential matters of moral cultivation, including the veneration of sages and the educational role of temple ceremonies.
This stele inscription recounts the deeds and spiritual legacy of Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu).
The author, Zheng Lun of Luling, rose from imperial examination graduate to the position of Censor. Reverent and prudent in character, he grasped the essence of governance—his virtuous conduct (De) remains worthy of emulation. Thus this stele was erected to preserve his record, allowing future generations to study and inherit his legacy.
The inscription begins by stating that the cosmic order (akin to Confucian ethical principles) remains as constant as the sun and moon’s movements, requiring sages to uphold it. King Tang of Shang had Yi Yin, who laid down his farming tools to assist him; King Wu of Zhou had Jiang Ziya, who abandoned his fishing rod to aid him—both revived this cosmic order, rescuing the people from suffering.
In the late Eastern Han, while Zhuge Liang still tilled the fields in seclusion at Longzhong, he already harbored ambitions akin to Yi Yin and Jiang Ziya—a fact only recognized by Sima Hui and Xu Shu. After Liu Bei’s three visits to his thatched cottage, Zhuge Liang devised brilliant strategies to counter Cao Cao’s cunning and Sun Quan’s arrogance, restoring the Han dynasty’s prestige in the southwest. Later, he exhausted himself in service, striving to reclaim the Central Plains and unify the realm, only to pass away at Wuzhangyuan during the northern campaigns. Reading his "Memorial on the Expedition" reveals his aspirations truly mirrored those of Yi Yin and Jiang Ziya. Those who merely praise his inventions—the wooden ox and gliding horse, his seven captures of Meng Huo, or his deployment of the Eight Formations—fail to grasp Zhuge Liang’s true essence.
(Note: "Yi Yin" was a founding minister of the Shang dynasty; "Lü Wang" refers to Jiang Ziya. "Yan Jing" alludes to the Han dynasty, associated with the Fire Phase virtue. The "Wei River campaign" denotes Zhuge Liang’s final northern expedition.)
About seven li from the city walls lies a hill called "Crouching Dragon," where stands the "Zhuge Hermitage" alongside an ancient well said to be the very source from which Zhuge Liang drew water. Local villagers had established a shrine here to honor him, but over time it fell into disrepair, overgrown with wild grasses.
During the Jian'an era, Chen Ti (a former imperial censor who had earned the jinshi degree) arrived to assume his official post. Surveying the dilapidated site, he sighed: "The duty to honor loyalty and integrity falls to me." He donated his official salary to initiate reconstruction, gaining immediate support from colleagues and local garrison commanders. Local officials were then instructed to solicit contributions from wealthy households.
With materials prepared—timber transported by river, stone quarried from mountains, and bricks kiln-fired in the suburbs—craftsmen were assembled. The new shrine centered on a statue of Zhuge Liang, flanked by side chambers and enclosed by high walls with a grand gate. Ritual vessels, offering tables, and musical instruments for ceremonies were all meticulously arranged.
Upon completion, I was asked to document the restoration for engraving on a stele, ensuring future generations would understand its origins. As the Book of Songs states, "Heaven gives birth to the multitudes, with patterns and principles inherent in all things." People naturally revere virtue when guided by such principles. It was this shared moral conviction that inspired spontaneous support for the shrine's renewal. All initiators, contributors, and donors are named on the stele.
The inscription concludes: Like Yi Yin aiding Tang of Shang or Lü Shang assisting King Wu of Zhou, Zhuge Liang emerged in the Han dynasty's twilight, resolved to unify the realm. Though his ambition remained unfulfilled, his son Zhuge Zhan upheld his legacy unto death. This Crouching Dragon Hill preserves Zhuge Liang's former dwelling. Now, enlightened officials have restored his shrine, reviving rites with wine and music to commemorate this loyal statesman.
This passage is Li Dongyang's commemorative essay on the reconstruction of Zhuge Wuhou's temple, primarily extolling the loyal character of Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu).
A virtuous person's conduct in the world must stem from an upright heart—only then can his strategies and achievements be honorable and righteous, earning universal trust and eternal remembrance. If the heart lacks integrity, even actions that occasionally align with righteousness will reveal flaws and inconsistencies that cannot be concealed. One may deceive a single individual but never the eyes of millions; one might obscure the truth temporarily but never escape the judgment of eternity. This is precisely why Marquis Zhuge Wuhou's loyalty transcends heaven and earth, enduring through time.
During the decline of the Han dynasty, though Zhuge Liang lived in rural seclusion, his mind was already devising grand plans to restore the empire. Witnessing Emperor Xian of Han held captive by Cao Cao and the dynasty's lifeline severed, he recognized Liu Bei (Emperor Zhaolie) as the most virtuous among the imperial clan and pledged allegiance without hesitation. At that time, preserving the Han lineage was paramount—even the highest throne paled in significance, let alone the petty authority of Liu Zhang (Governor of Yizhou). Liu Zhang commanded his own forces yet bowed to the traitor Cao Cao.
Later, when Cao Pi usurped the Han throne and Liu Bei entrusted his orphaned heir on his deathbed, Zhuge Liang redoubled his efforts. He assisted the mediocre Liu Shan without wavering in purpose, persisting through repeated defeats until his dying breath. His resolve never faltered; whether in life or death, not a single day passed without his devotion to the Han cause—this is true integrity. His tears upon parting with the disgraced Liao Li, his deathbed confrontation that shamed Li Yan into suicide, and Sima Yi's fearful reluctance to act against him—these outcomes stemmed not merely from strategic brilliance but from a lifetime of loyalty and righteousness that moved others profoundly.
Take Xun Yu, who practiced benevolence through narrow Confucian doctrines. Though Sima Guang (Master Sushui) praised him, Zhu Xi (Master Kaoting) ultimately condemned him—was this not because he strayed from the true path and invited later criticism? Xun Yu is hardly worth mentioning. Even Zhang Liang (Zifang), often paired with Zhuge Liang in fame, earned praise for restoring the Han and assisting the dynasty. Yet scrutinizing his methods reveals reliance on political maneuvering alongside righteousness, lacking Zhuge Liang's purity. Cheng Yi remarked that Zhuge Liang possessed the mindset to assist emperors—precisely for this reason. Thus, all who seek wisdom in later ages should take Zhuge Liang as their model.
(Note: Wolonggang, five li west of Nanyang Prefecture's city walls, was Zhuge Liang's hermitage. This detail is omitted here as the core message has been fully conveyed.)
This passage documents the historical development and construction process of the Wuhou Shrine at Wolonggang in Nanyang (a memorial temple dedicated to Zhuge Liang).
The original site of Zhuge Liang's thatched cottage during his reclusive years was at Longgang. Han dynasty historical records mention his farming in Nanyang while also noting his residence in Longzhong, Xiangyang. This discrepancy arises because the Qin-era Nanyang Commandery included present-day Dengzhou, with Xiangyang falling within its jurisdiction at that time. During the Yuan dynasty, a shrine was established here to worship Zhuge Liang, along with an academy where an appointed headmaster (shanzhang) lectured, supported by several hundred qing of allocated farmland.
In the early Ming dynasty, the shrine fell into disrepair. During the Xuande reign, prefects Chen Zhenglun and Chen Ti successively restored it, designating the 28th day of the eighth lunar month (the anniversary of Zhuge Liang's death) for annual ceremonies. Under Prefect Duan Jian during the Chenghua reign, the main hall was rebuilt, reviving the academy's original system and selecting scholars for study there. Twenty years later, most structures had collapsed again. In 1495 (the Yimao year of the Hongzhi era), Henan provincial administrator Gu Fu ordered another restoration, overseen by Prefect Ma Yu and County Magistrate Li Tong. They constructed a six-bay main hall enshrining Zhuge Liang's image, flanked by symmetrical side chambers. A thatched pavilion was added with an inscribed plaque reading "Thatched Cottage," while six rear bays formed the "Wolong Hall." To the shrine's left stood a four-bay academy building. Construction began in the fourth month of 1498 (Wuwu year) and concluded by the eighth month, with four qing of farmland restored to fund ceremonies. Censor Li Han supervised the project, assisted by Surveillance Vice Commissioner Liu Jun. Notably, Gu Fu had dreamed of Zhuge Liang during an inspection in Runing—the sage's appearance matching transmitted portraits—coinciding with the cottage's reconstruction date.
In the winter of 1525 (the Yiyou year of the Jiajing era), author Ye Guizhang paid special homage to the Wolonggang Wuhou Shrine while on official assignment to Nanyang. He described the shrine situated seven li southwest of the commandery city, surrounded by bamboo groves and ancient trees, with the Mengyang Stream flowing eastward before its gate. A stone bridge spanned the stream leading to the main entrance. Through this account of construction history, the text expresses later generations' reverence for Zhuge Liang's loyalty and righteousness, alongside hopes for the academy tradition's enduring legacy.
This passage describes the architectural layout and restoration history of the Zhuge Liang Temple (posthumously honored as Marquis Zhongwu) in Nanyang's Longzhong. The temple complex houses a main hall enshrining Zhuge Liang's statue, with a stele pavilion at the rear bearing his famous "First Memorial on the Expedition" and "Second Memorial on the Expedition." On the hill stands an octagonal pavilion displaying the Eight Formation Diagrams he devised, marking the original site of his thatched cottage—formerly roofed with reeds and annually maintained by county officials. Though now tiled, portions retain their thatched covering as a tribute to this revered sage.
Ascending several stone steps leads to a plateau with three guest pavilions for visitors. The summit features an open-air tower offering panoramic views stretching thousands of li, where the Yangtze River and distant mountains unfold before the eyes. Surrounding cloisters accommodate Daoist priests for ceremonial purposes. The terrain slopes gently on all sides, with only this central hill rising prominently—hence its name "Longzhong" (Lofty Center), a celebrated Nanyang landmark.
Sadly, years of neglect have left structures crumbling, tiles dislodged, and murals faded—perhaps because initial builders were diligent while successors grew negligent. Troubled by this decay yet lacking restoration funds, I contributed my official salary toward repairs. When consulting Nanyang Magistrate Jia Dongyang, he responded remorsefully: "This official duty has burdened you undeservedly." We resolved not merely to rebuild, but to perpetuate Zhuge Liang's legacy for posterity.
The project's grand foundations were already laid; our task was refinement. Like offering one basket of provisions to an army or adding one basket of earth to a mountain, my contribution was modest. Yet as skilled singers inspire others to continue the melody—just as Lu State's military rewards preserved its sovereignty, and Wei's truce strengthened its borders—such spiritual resonance endures. I trust future generations will respond similarly.
Before my northern departure, Deputy Li Yuanren of Ye County eagerly joined the effort. Delighted by its smooth progress, I recorded these events for Magistrate Jia to implement. Fellow officials—Prefect Song Dewei of the commandery, Prefect Yu Maoxian of Dengzhou, and Assistant Prefect Jin Xinchen—also participated. Donors will be commemorated upon completion.
(Note: "Eight Formations" refers to Zhuge Liang's tactical diagrams; "thatched cottage" denotes his hermitage; "Marquis Zhongwu" was his posthumous noble title.)
In the second month of the fifteenth year of the Jiajing reign (1536), Tu Zhuo (courtesy name Wenqing, a native of Siming in Zhejiang), the prefect of Nanyang, was commissioned by the imperial court to preside over a ceremony honoring Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis of Zhongwu), the Han-dynasty chancellor, at Longzhong. This was the very place where Zhuge Liang had once lived in seclusion before forming his "fish-and-water" alliance with Liu Bei to restore the Han dynasty under the Shu Han regime. The local Wolong Shrine had been venerated through successive dynasties, with surrounding dwellings preserving their original appearance.
Since the last restoration overseen by former Prefect Yang over a decade prior, the shrine's walls had begun to crumble, its painted decorations peeling away, leaving it increasingly dilapidated. Prefect Tu reasoned: in ancient times, when local worthies passed away, commoners would honor them at village temples—how much more should this apply to Zhuge Liang, a chancellor of unparalleled virtue (whose achievements rivaled those of Yi Yin and Lü Shang)? How could his shrine be left in disrepair? He thus ordered the collection of building materials for a full-scale renovation: old structures were refurbished, cramped quarters expanded, and rotted timber replaced, revitalizing the entire complex. The restored shrine stood tall and solemn, its brilliance reaching the heavens, inspiring reverence in all who passed by. Prefect Tu personally conducted biannual sacrifices, offering ritual livestock to manifest the court's reverence for past sages.
Two years later, upon Prefect Tu's promotion and departure, his subordinates inscribed his deeds on a stele. The text comprised three main sections: first, it recounted the chaos of the late Eastern Han, when Liu Bei (a descendant of the Han imperial line) struggled to establish his cause in Xiangyang and along the Han River, until Zhuge Liang emerged from his Nanyang seclusion to assist him; next, it narrated how, after the "Three Visits to the Thatched Hut," Zhuge Liang helped Liu Bei secure Yizhou and Hanzhong, received the dying emperor's trust at Baidicheng, and though "determined to restore the Central Plains," was thwarted by heaven's will; finally, it extolled Prefect Tu's merit in renovating the shrine, depicting the solemnity of the rituals and the dignified assembly of guests, concluding with the dragon-ridge terrain encircled by the Yu River and a prayer that this stele commemorating virtue would endure for eternity.
(Note: The phrase "the people of Weilei" alludes to the Zhuangzi, referring to simple, honest folk; "Yi and Lü" denotes Yi Yin, founding minister of the Shang dynasty, and Lü Shang, founding minister of the Zhou dynasty; the "Yu River" is the modern Bai River, flowing through Nanyang.)
Nothing in this world surpasses the importance of moral righteousness (Dao), which outshines both formidable military might and cunning strategies. When the Han dynasty's authority declined, Cao Cao relied on his ruthless ambition to dominate the Central Plains, while Sun Quan inherited his family's legacy to control the Jiangdong region. Both men exalted military power and clever schemes in their attempts to seize an empire that was not rightfully theirs. At that time, the world recognized only the states of Wei and Wu. Liu Bei (Emperor Zhaolie), with nothing but a small force, wandered from place to place—lacking both a strong army and a stable base. Who would have dared to suggest assisting Liu Bei in his grand ambitions?
Zhuge Liang (the Marquis of Zhongwu) was originally a recluse living in a thatched cottage. Moved by Liu Bei's sincerity during his three visits, he resolutely agreed to lend his aid. This was not solely because Liu Bei was a descendant of the imperial family, capable of rallying the people under the banner of righteousness. Later, like a fish finding water, Zhuge Liang strategized brilliantly, helping Liu Bei establish the Shu Han regime and preserve the Han lineage. He exposed the truth of Emperor Xian's persecution, denounced Cao Cao's treachery, and saw his righteous proclamations spread far and wide, stirring responses across Jing and Chu. His initial plan was to seize the Guanzhong region, then secure Luoyang, and finally unify the Wu and Yue territories. In this regard, Zhuge Liang's aspirations were partially realized.
In governance, he consistently upheld principles of openness, sincerity, and collective wisdom. He once said, "If one fears offending others and dares not voice dissenting opinions, great losses will follow. Reaching the right conclusion through discussion is like discarding worn-out straw sandals in exchange for precious jewels." Yet he lamented the difficulty of discerning human hearts—if only people were as forthright as Xu Shu (Yuanzhi) or as diligent as Dong He (Youzai), he could have avoided many mistakes. Alas! Since the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou), who else has matched Zhuge Liang's unwavering loyalty?
Though he passed away before his mission was complete, and the Han dynasty was never restored—leaving Shu Han with only Jing and Yi provinces, forming the Three Kingdoms' tripartite division—his repeated northern campaigns did not achieve unification. Yet Sima Yi (Zhongda) fled in terror before him, and Cao Wei's general Wang Shuang (Pingli) fell to his blade. Later generations often compare him to virtuous ministers like Yi Yin and Lü Shang. Could mere strategy and military prowess have earned him such acclaim?
Looking back now, we see that Zhuge Liang governed with measured flexibility, aligning with the people's will. His administration was meticulous, ensuring smooth implementation of policies. In warfare, he remained undefeated; in farming garrisons, his plans were thorough. His Eight Formations (Ba Zhen Tu) were passed down through the ages, and his inventions of the "wooden ox and flowing horse" were unprecedented. Clearly, he was not devoid of wisdom—but he prioritized righteousness (Dao) above all. Thus, his teachings spread throughout Shu, his reputation reached distant frontiers, and the people honored him in streets, alleys, and countryside shrines, extolling his virtues (De) as if he were a divine being.
This passage documents the history of constructing temples dedicated to Zhuge Liang in Chengdu and the people's reverence for this Shu Han chancellor.
In Chengdu, there originally existed a shrine exclusively honoring Zhuge Liang. Later, it was merged into the Zhaolie Temple (dedicated to Liu Bei), causing the dedicated shrine to fall into disrepair. A local official, Lord Wang, believed that Zhuge Liang’s achievements were so monumental that the absence of a dedicated shrine failed to reflect proper reverence. He thus petitioned the Prince of Shu to build a new shrine on vacant land by the Wanhua Stream. When the author succeeded Lord Wang in office, he erected a stele to record this event. The inscription noted that while Zhuge Liang’s deeds had already been thoroughly documented by Pei Du (the Duke of Jin), this stele primarily honored the Prince of Shu for upholding virtue and Lord Wang’s efforts in rebuilding the shrine.
The text employs a series of rhetorical questions to reflect on Zhuge Liang’s life: Why did he till the fields in Nanyang in obscurity? Why did he live in seclusion like a hidden dragon? Why did he choose Shu Han amid the chaos of a fractured empire? Why did he forge such a deep bond with Liu Bei, akin to fish and water? Why did he persist in restoring the Han dynasty while warlords vied for supremacy? Why did his northern campaigns remain unfulfilled? Today, people across the land spontaneously offer sacrifices. The newly built shrine boasts splendid beams, resounding bells and drums, and fine wine and offerings, while devotees in solemn attire pray devoutly, hoping Zhuge Liang’s spirit will continue to bless them.
Another section records the "Zhuge Well" on Jinjiang Street in Chengdu. This well has a unique structure: square inside, about two zhang deep, with a mouth just over a chi in diameter, crafted with exquisite and sturdy workmanship beyond ordinary artisans’ skill. Tradition holds that Zhuge Liang personally designed and dug it. Some say this was because Chengdu corresponds to the celestial Well constellation, and its location by the Min River made the well both practical and cosmologically significant—aligning with the Dao (the Way) of heaven and earth.
This passage recounts the story of Zhuge Liang (the Marquis of Zhongwu) and an ancient well. Located at a scenic spot on Mount Emei, the well is said to have been dug by Zhuge Liang to connect with the imperial Qi (vital energy). Originally a recluse of humble origins living in Longzhong, Zhuge Liang harbored great ambitions unknown to others until Liu Bei (Emperor Zhaolie), recommended by Xu Shu, visited his thatched cottage three times. The two immediately bonded, and from then on, Zhuge Liang devoted himself wholeheartedly to serving the Han dynasty.
The text mentions that Zhuge Liang once used the Daoist technique of "kan er xu zhi" (a Daoist breathing and energy cultivation method) to restore prosperity to the Linqiong fire well (a natural gas well), demonstrating the profound significance of his practice of repairing wells to connect with terrestrial Qi. Unfortunately, over time, this well gradually faded into obscurity, and even locals could no longer locate it.
It was not until this past spring, when Lord Wang of Nie Valley (a high-ranking official, the Grand Minister of the Court) governed Shu (Sichuan), that the ancient well was rediscovered during an archaeological survey. Emulating Zhuge Liang’s governance philosophy, Lord Wang ordered the well’s restoration. A square pavilion was built over it, and a dry mill was installed for the convenience of the people. To the south of the well, a screen gate and a shrine dedicated to Zhuge Liang were constructed—facilities that had never existed before.
While visiting Chengdu for medical treatment, the author heard of this from the local governor, Lord Ma, who invited him to compose a record of the event. Reflecting on it, the author remarked: Reading historical texts, he had often sighed over the deeds of ancient sages like Yi Yin and Lü Shang, but only upon learning of Zhuge Liang’s accomplishments did he feel a sense of solace. Through his studies, he realized how much the Dao of learning and its practical application had changed between ancient and modern times, which saddened him deeply. Although life’s circumstances and the application of Daoist techniques evolve with the times, since the Song dynasty, Confucian scholars have excessively emphasized theory, whereas before the Han dynasty, greater emphasis was placed on practical efficacy.
This passage evaluates Zhuge Liang (courtesy name Kongming, posthumous title Marquis Zhongwu) in terms of character and achievements, refuting criticisms from Song Dynasty Confucian scholars.
During his reclusive years farming in Nanyang, Zhuge Liang appeared no more remarkable than contemporaries like Xu Shu (Guangyuan) or Cui Zhouping (Gongwei). Yet after Liu Bei's repeated visits to his thatched cottage drew him into service, his strategic brilliance and precise decision-making became evident. Though the chaotic era denied him the chance to establish ritual and musical institutions, he shouldered the world's safety as his duty—drawing close to worthy ministers while distancing petty men, enforcing clear rewards and punishments, acting in accordance with righteous principles, and winning hearts through words and deeds. His grand vision surpassed all contemporary generals and ministers. His supernatural military tactics succeeded nine times out of ten, outstripping even legendary commanders like Zhang Liang, Han Xin, Deng Yu, and Ma Yuan.
Song Confucians like Chen Shou and Xue Yu criticized Zhuge Liang, claiming his upright conduct lacked scholarly depth. Some even deemed his self-comparison to Guan Zhong and Yue Yi as arrogance, while his legalist teachings to Liu Shan (Later Sovereign) and his role in securing Jing and Yi provinces for Liu Bei's hegemony supposedly proved his "impure" learning. Such judgments are absurd! Whether in office or seclusion, Zhuge Liang acted with transparent integrity—his words and deeds aligned perfectly, embodying the unadulterated Confucianism of pre-Qin and Han times. Had those Song critics held power, they likely would have achieved little.
As for marvels like the "wooden ox and gliding horse," the Eight Formation Diagram, or capturing Meng Huo seven times—these were mere glimpses of his talent. More valuable was his governance: offices, dwellings, bridges, and roads were all meticulously maintained under his administration. I regard Zhuge Liang as equal to ancient sages like Yi Yin and Lü Shang (Yi-Lü). Had he lived in peaceful times, he surely could have restored the ritual-music systems of the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou). Pedantic scholars' critiques do not diminish his greatness.
Lord Niegu's restoration of this well (possibly the "Zhuge Well") mirrors how ancients preserved Duke of Shao's pear tree or Confucius's apricot grove—ensuring later generations remember that traces of the worthy never fade. From small deeds, we infer greater virtues; posterity will surely take Zhuge Liang as their teacher. Is such transformative influence trivial? Those who treat him merely as an eccentric prodigy fail to grasp his shared moral essence with ancient sages. I do not presume full understanding of Zhuge Liang but simply append these candid thoughts to the well's record—though I never saw him in life, recording his traces is fortune enough.
This passage is a commemorative essay written by Yu Dayou, the renowned Ming dynasty general who resisted Japanese pirates, for the reconstruction of Zhuge Pavilion. It primarily discusses Zhuge Liang (posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) and his dual talents as both a chancellor and military commander. The text first recounts the origin of the "Crouching Dragon" place name—the people of Nanyang called Zhuge Liang "Hidden Dragon" during his reclusive years, naming the hill where he resided as Wolonggang (Crouching Dragon Ridge). Later in Guilin, there was also an ancient mountain called Wolong, and later generations built a pavilion on its summit for sacrificial rites due to the matching names.
The author refutes Chen Shou's (courtesy name Chengzuo) view in Records of the Three Kingdoms that Zhuge Liang excelled more in governance than military strategy. Yu argues that Zhuge Liang was "equally outstanding as both chancellor and general," yet emphasizes that while these two talents can coexist in one person, it is exceedingly difficult for a single individual to shoulder both roles simultaneously. A chancellor must remain at the central court to administer state affairs, while a general must be stationed at military camps to command battles—just as Xiao He and Han Xin of the Han dynasty, or Wei Zheng and Li Jing of the Tang dynasty, achieved greatness through division of these responsibilities. Forcing one person to assume both roles would leave them "physically exhausted and mentally drained, succeeding at neither."
Finally, Yu Dayou laments: Zhuge Liang was not ignorant of this principle. Few understood the profound dedication behind his conscious choice to undertake the impossible. During the chaotic late Han period, Zhuge Liang had to both assist the young ruler in governance and personally lead northern expeditions—this state of "sparing no effort until death" precisely reflects his "uniquely arduous devotion." Phrases like "dragon-prancing and tiger-gazing" and "brandishing long strategies" subtly allude to the ambition expressed in Zhuge Liang's Chu Shi Biao (Memorial on the Expedition): "I must rouse the three armies to pacify the Central Plains in the north."
This passage recounts the life circumstances and frustrations of Zhuge Liang (courtesy name Kongming, posthumous title Marquis Zhongwu). He initially lived in seclusion at Nanyang (present-day Nanyang, Henan), a strategically located crossroads region. His choice of this retreat was deliberate—to seek like-minded individuals of talent. Later, he encountered Liu Bei (courtesy name Xuande), who possessed both imperial bearing and royal lineage (as a descendant of Liu Sheng, Prince Jing of Zhongshan). Zhuge Liang believed Liu Bei worthy of his service to accomplish great deeds.
The text observes that had Zhuge Liang encountered renowned generals like Han Xin or Li Jing, he could have comfortably served as chancellor. Conversely, had he met virtuous ministers like Xiao He or Wei Zheng, he might have assumed military command instead. Tragically, the Shu Han regime suffered from acute talent shortages. Though it boasted legendary warriors like Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, both met untimely deaths. The author laments that after their passing, Shu Han's fortunes were effectively sealed. Following Liu Bei's own demise, Zhuge Liang bore alone the monumental task of restoring the Han dynasty.
Some critics (like Yang Yong) accused Zhuge Liang of transgressing proper ruler-minister boundaries by micromanaging all affairs. He couldn't refute this—knowing full well that neglecting governance would starve military supplies, while ignoring military affairs would erode morale. Thus he shouldered both responsibilities singlehandedly. When his efforts ultimately failed, he could only attribute it to Heaven's will.
The author extols Zhuge Liang's noble character: in austerity pure as jade, in tranquility steadfast as mountains, in loyalty sharp as frost—his utmost sincerity could penetrate metal and stone. The passage concludes with poignant reflection: since the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou), Zhuge Liang stands alone as the only figure comparable to ancient sages. Had he been born in an era of abundant talent like the golden ages when Duke of Zhou established rites or Jiang Ziya founded the Zhou dynasty, he would surely have achieved comparable greatness. But born in an age of decline, he couldn't even match the accomplishments of predecessors like Xiao He, Wei Zheng, Han Xin or Li Jing.
This stele inscription records the restoration of Zhuge Liang's temple during the Ming Dynasty while commemorating the achievements of this eternal sage-statesman.
The author reflects with emotion: Whenever later generations read of Zhuge Liang's tireless devotion yet ultimate failure to restore the Han dynasty, tears cannot help but fall. Imagine the anguish he must have endured in such dire circumstances. Though the Han dynasty was never revived, later ages have linked many sacred mountains and historic sites to Zhuge Liang (such as the northern Yaoshan and Shun temples), ensuring his spirit lives on—perhaps offering some solace to the Chancellor's heavenly soul.
At that time, the temple had fallen into disrepair. Inspector Baiye Zhu, an official of the Ming Dynasty who admired Zhuge Liang's noble character, proposed its restoration. The judicial officials (Nie Si) deemed the site exceptionally scenic and, with Zhuge Liang's statue present, undertook the reconstruction. The provincial administration officials (Fan Si) also lent full support, completing the project in under a month. It became a major landmark in Guangxi's provincial capital (modern-day Guilin). Liang Shiji, commissioned to compose this stele, used the occasion to extol Zhuge Liang's virtues as inspiration for like-minded individuals.
The inscription further recalls: In the eleventh year of the Chongzhen era (1638), the author was dispatched by imperial order to inspect Shu (Sichuan). After completing his duties, he visited the shrines of Emperor Zhaolie of Han (Liu Bei) and Zhuge Liang with local officials. Witnessing the solemn halls and dignified artifacts, he marveled: Only by standing here in person can one truly grasp the profound statecraft of these ancient figures who governed and stabilized the realm.
The author makes a pointed observation: While many claim Zhuge Liang's advocacy for a tripartite division of the realm reflected his true intent, a closer examination of Shu's precarious terrain—difficult to defend despite its natural barriers—suggests such a plan would be uncharacteristic of his wisdom. Historically, regimes advancing via the Golden Ox Road (the critical route into Shu) seldom endured long. Liu Bei established his foundation here through benevolence and virtue... (remainder missing)
[Note: The translation maintains the original's reflective tone while adapting classical references (e.g., official titles like Nie Si/Fan Si) with contextual explanations. Daoist terms are not prominent here, but the structure preserves the stele's commemorative and didactic purpose.]
Zhuge Liang initiated the enterprise of restoring the Han dynasty in the southwestern region. When Liu Bei visited his thatched cottage three times to seek governance strategies, there must have been profound planning. During their first discussion in the cottage, Zhuge Liang remarked that Yizhou (present-day Sichuan) was the "Land of Abundance," from which Emperor Gaozu of Han had established his imperial enterprise. Historically, great achievements often began in the northwest—Yu the Great rose from the Western Qiang, Tang of Shang mobilized his forces from Bo, the Zhou dynasty replaced Shang from Feng and Hao, the Qin dynasty emerged from Yongzhou, and the Han dynasty also originated from Shu. Liu Bei and his ministers were driven by precisely such ambitions.
We see that after Liu Bei inherited the Han legacy, his forces marched through the Xie Valley one year and advanced toward Mount Qi the next, never ceasing their campaigns until Zhuge Liang's death at Wuzhang Plains. Even in his later years, Liu Bei personally led an expedition against Eastern Wu, traversing the perilous Three Gorges—proof that they never shrank from geographical obstacles. As Zhuge Liang declared, "The Han and its enemies cannot coexist; the royal enterprise must not settle for partial peace." Their goal was to restore the Han dynasty and return the capital to Luoyang. These step-by-step strategies mirrored Emperor Gaozu of Han’s campaign from Shu to pacify the Three Qins (the Guanzhong region).
There is a proper way to govern the realm: those who win the people’s hearts will rule the land. The terrain of Shu is rugged, and its people are bold and martial—they must be moved by righteousness, not swayed by petty favors. During Zhuge Liang’s twelve years of governance, rewards and punishments were clear-cut; even the distribution of a single peck or bushel of grain was personally supervised, and pardons were never granted arbitrarily. He said, "To govern, one must act with great virtue, not minor kindnesses." So profound was his influence that even exiled criminals wept in mourning at his death. When entrusted with the guardianship of the young ruler, as Yuan Hong noted, "Liu Bei entrusted him without hesitation, and Zhuge Liang bore the responsibility without shame"—a virtue surpassing even the praises of the Duke of Zhou in the Book of Songs. At its core, this stemmed from his serene and unassuming character, which earned both his lord’s trust and the people’s devotion.
When I first read of Zhuge Liang’s seven captures of Meng Huo, I privately thought this versatile prime minister was overly curious. But after personally surveying the terrain of Shu, I understood: the southwestern border tribes were volatile, and without awe-inspiring authority, they could not be pacified. If barbarian rebellions remained unresolved while launching campaigns in the Central Plains, the border peoples would surely stir unrest behind the lines. With the main army campaigning abroad and barbarians rebelling at home, the situation would become perilously untenable. Thus, Zhuge Liang crossed the Lu River to subdue the southern tribes first, securing the south before concentrating his efforts on leading the Three Armies to pacify the Central Plains—this was the principle of governing distant lands by first stabilizing the near and handling external affairs by first securing the internal.
This passage discusses the historical status and influence of Zhuge Liang (styled Kongming, posthumously titled Marquis Zhongwu) during the Three Kingdoms period. The author considers the Shu Han regime as legitimate due to its commitment to restoring the Han dynasty. The text cites perspectives from two scholars—Zhu Xi (styled Kaoting) and Wang Tong (styled Zhongyan)—who suggested that had Zhuge Liang not died prematurely, the ritual-musical institutions of the Han might have been revived, potentially allowing the Han dynasty to endure.
The author reflects with lament that had the Han continued, the subsequent usurpation by the Sima clan (referred to metaphorically as "Dianwu," where "dian" corresponds to "si" [to oversee] and "wu" represents the horse in the zodiac, together signifying "Sima") could have been avoided. This might have prevented the chaotic era of the Five Barbarians' incursion (referring to the Xiongnu, Xianbei, Jie, Di, and Qiang nomadic tribes), which plunged the Central Plains into three centuries of warfare and decline. Such outcomes appear to follow heaven's predetermined course—a principle even sages cannot contravene. Though history remains immutable, the people of Shu have maintained millennial reverence for Zhuge Liang, erecting ancestral halls to commemorate his virtue and the merits of Shu Han's rulers and ministers.
The author mentions collaborating with local official Fu Gong to oversee the reconstruction of such a hall. Emulating ancient practices, they proceeded with solemn care, creating a dignified space that pleased the populace. Finally, a stele was inscribed to document the temple's establishment, ensuring that the spirit of these predecessors would endure alongside the structure—thereby rectifying public sentiment and shining like the sun and moon. The author modestly states this merely expresses later generations' admiration, instructing the magistrate of Huayang County overseeing the project not to treat it as personal glory but to approach it with the attitude expressed in the Book of Songs' Minor Odes: "We look up to the high mountain; we tread the noble path."
(Note: "Dianwu" is a cryptic reference to the Sima clan, combining "dian" [to manage] as a synonym for "si" and "wu" [the horse in the zodiac]. "Five Barbarians" denotes the five northern nomadic tribes: Xiongnu, Xianbei, Jie, Di, and Qiang. "Red Essence" alludes to the Han dynasty's fire virtue cosmological cycle.)
Source text: Kanripo 漢籍リポジトリ（KR5i0078）; Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0 · Report an error / feedback