After crossing the Tan Stream, Liu Bei seems dazed, as if drunk. To leap that wide stream in a single bound, was that not the will of heaven? He rides on toward Nanzhang. The sun is about to set in the west.
On the way, a boy comes along sitting on the back of an ox, playing a short flute. Liu Bei sighs, I am not as well off as that boy, and halts his horse. The boy too stops the ox, lowers his flute and looks at Liu Bei for a long time. General, are you not Liu Xuande, who broke the Yellow Turbans? Liu Bei asks in surprise. You are a village boy, so how do you know my name?
The boy says. At first I did not know it. But when I wait on my teacher, guests come and often talk of a man called Liu Xuande. They say he is seven chi five cun tall, his arms hang down past his knees, and he can see his own ears, and that he is the hero of the age. Looking at you, general, it must be him.