On returning from Wolonggang (臥龍崗), Liu Bei (劉備) that very night hung the map on the wall of the west room in the magistrate's office at Xinye (新野).

The map was five chi wide. Hung at the center of the wall, it brought the room's air into new order. Beneath the map, Liu Bei had set out a single empty cushion. It was Kongming's (孔明) seat. Kongming remained at the thatched cottage in Nanyang, and his move to Xinye was still a month away. Yet from tonight, that empty cushion belonged to him.

The next morning, a short slip lay upon that cushion. No one could say who had placed it there. The hand, however, was Kongming's — the same grain as the finger that had drawn lines upon the earth of the yard the afternoon before.

The slip's writing was short.

Your Lordship. This coming late summer, Cao Ren (曹仁) of the north will come down again from Fancheng (樊城). Unlike last spring's force under the brothers Lü Kuang and Lü Xiang, this time it is a picked force of ten thousand. Light the fire again at the site of the first fire of Bowang (博望), but this time the fire must wait for the wind of the reed forest. I set below, in three lines, the rhythm leading up to the day of that wind.

Below the three lines were:

First. By the full moon of this month, let General Yunchang (雲長) personally confirm the thickness of the reed forest north of Bowangpo.

Second. By the first days of next month, let General Yide (翼德) ride, twice in advance, the route of Cao Ren's scouts out of Fancheng.

Third. By the middle of next month, let Your Lordship in person stand at the eastern mouth of Bowang, and measure, to within two shichen (時辰), the exact hour at which the wind turns fully from north to south.

At the end of the slip stood one short sentence from Kongming.

When all three are ready, this man's seat too shall move to the empty cushion at Xinye.

Liu Bei read the slip once. Twice. On the third reading, a small smile hung at the corner of his mouth — the same smile as on the stone in yesterday afternoon's yard.

"Yunchang. Yide."

Guan Yu (關羽) and Zhang Fei (張飛) came in from outside. Liu Bei spread the slip before them. Guan Yu read first, Zhang Fei after him.

Guan Yu bowed his head quietly.

"Brother. From today until the full moon of this month, I shall confirm the reed forest north of Bowangpo myself."

Zhang Fei clenched his fist lightly.

"Brother. By the first days of next month, I shall ride the route of the Fancheng scouts twice — the first ride by day, the second by night."

Liu Bei listened to his two younger brothers in turn. Their two voices, upon the three lines of Kongming's morning slip, met each other face to face.

"I shall go to the eastern mouth of Bowang by the middle of next month. I shall measure the direction of the wind to within two shichen."

Liu Bei spoke quietly. The three roles of the three men had taken their seats upon this morning's single slip. Until yesterday, they had been three men who fought each on his own front. From this morning, they were men who moved in one rhythm, along the three lines of a single slip.

The author of the slip was not in the room at Xinye. Yet his name already rested upon the empty cushion beneath the map on the wall. That name was moving the three men in the room with a single breath. This was the three men's first plan of the morning.

That evening, Guan Yu led his horse and departed north, toward the reed forest above Bowangpo. His Green Dragon Blade (靑龍刀) swayed lightly beside the saddle. Zhang Fei set out to inspect a strand of forest beyond a small river to the south — the first stretch of the Fancheng scouts' daytime route. Liu Bei stayed at the magistrate's office at Xinye and fixed a small wind-measuring device to the side of his saddle.

On the night when the three men had set out in three directions, the slip on the empty cushion beneath the map in the west room at Xinye stirred lightly in a draft, then returned to its place.

The owner of the empty cushion had not yet come. Yet the three lines of his slip had already moved three men in three directions. The absence of one man was binding the presence of three men into one rhythm. This was Kongming's first plan, and this was the new rhythm of Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei. From that night on, whenever the three of them moved, an invisible fourth pace walked beside them. The pace belonged to a man not yet in the room. It did not yet have sound.

—