Compared with the speed and roughness of the Northern Migrants rabble, Gao Song, an elite scholar of the Qiaozu, was far more meticulous and thorough.
Once he grasped the situation, he immediately took the commanding view and pointed out that Liu Cheng had made a serious mistake. He should have let as many people as possible see with their own eyes that the Prince of Wuling had left Jiankang alive. Rather than sending the boat straight off, he should preferably have waited at Jiangcheng, letting Gao Song bring a group of scholars to see him off, with one party onshore and the other aboard, exchanging looks across the water.
That way, even if the Prince of Wuling wept or howled, it would merely have been lamentation at parting.
Liu Cheng immediately offered a reasoned rebuttal. Riding a tall horse, the Prince of Wuling had passed countless residences of the Eastern City's great families on his way from home to East Hedge Gate, along with even more pedestrians and traveling merchants who had stepped aside for him. When passing the performance square on Jurong Avenue, the fellow had even rested for quite a while down by the market there. Scholars, slave retainers, commoners-every kind of person had been there, and all had seen him leave Jiankang alive and kicking.
How could that not count?
Besides, he would probably encounter Huan Wen upon reaching Jiang Province, without even needing to get to Jiangling. Then the scholars of Jiang Province would also see a living Prince of Wuling, and word could come back within a few days. Why did everything need to be so tightly arranged?
There was indeed some sense in that. Most importantly, things had already come to this, and further quibbling was pointless.
Thus Gao Song, too, was forced to