Chapter 39: The Death of the Beauty (Part Two)

Although Wang Guobao was told to consider the matter for himself, Che Yin knew in his heart that Wang would never allow the Xie clan to seize power. Despite their familial connection, Wang Guobao and the Xies had long since ceased contact, and after so many years, their estrangement had grown into enmity. Wang Guobao was also related to Wang Gong, both belonging to the Taiyuan Wang family—brothers of the same lineage, after all.

Observing Wang Guobao’s hesitation, Che Yin decided to push harder and spoke earnestly, “My lord, you must know that since the Jin court moved south, the empire has been governed jointly by imperial and ministerial powers. The authority of the chancellors has never before reached such heights in any previous dynasty—sometimes even surpassing imperial power. The chancellorship has long been held by aristocratic clans, and the Jin imperial house views this with suspicion. Thus, after the Battle of Fei River, the court sought to weaken the noble houses by appointing a royal—Prince of Kuaiji—to the chancellorship, causing widespread dissatisfaction among the clans.”

Che Yin spoke the truth, and Wang Guobao nodded silently, waiting to hear more.

“My lord, although you now wield immense power, you still lack the previous stature of other great clans. The Xie family once held the chancellorship, while you, my lord, are not the current prime minister. Moreover, your power was gained by aligning with Sima Daozi, which is precisely why Wang Gong and Yin Zhongkan resent you.”

Wang Guobao had long agreed with Che Yin’s analysis and nodded repeatedly.

“You surely understand the adage, ‘a man’s guilt lies in his treasures.’ Now, power is your treasure, and if you cannot relinquish it, should Wang Gong and Yin Zhongkan become enraged and march their armies against you, the arrival of their troops would be a small matter; but if this movement of the two mighty armies along the Yangtze entices the northern tribes to cross the river, the consequences would be dire.”

Che Yin’s words were perfectly logical. The South was held secure only by the strong armies at Jingkou and Jingzhou, which guarded the Yangtze and kept the northern tribes at bay. If the tribes managed to cross the river, defense would become nearly impossible. Yet to Wang Guobao, these words had the opposite effect: he cared little if the tribes crossed the river; what truly worried him was the prospect of Wang Gong and Yin Zhongkan’s armies at his gates.

Pacing back and forth in indecision, Wang Guobao muttered, “It seems that only by relinquishing power can I preserve my life and family.”

Who can easily let go of power? It is one thing never to have it, but once gained, surrendering it feels like cutting flesh from one’s own body.

A trace of disdain flashed across Che Yin’s lips, but he quickly resumed a righteous tone, advising, “How could the court’s new army withstand the strength of the two vassals? My lord, you must first set aside your power, find a way to drive the two vassals away, and only then plan for the future.”

Though resigned, Wang Guobao felt this was the only way to save himself, and he nodded slowly.

Che Yin continued, “But if the two vassals gain power, you must not allow the Xie family to benefit. The vassals, however powerful, are no more than regional lords; they cannot reach into Jiankang and threaten your safety. But if the Xie clan gains power, they’ll seek the chancellorship. Should they succeed, then you…”

Che Yin had not finished before cold sweat broke out on Wang Guobao’s brow.

A change in the chancellorship would mean a total reshuffling of the court. As one who had flourished under the previous regime, he would likely be ruined—especially given his irreconcilable feud with the Xies. No wonder he was so alarmed.

“But now Jiankang is full of Xie family troops. What should be done?” Wang Guobao asked anxiously.

All that had come before was merely preamble. Che Yin’s true intent was only now to be revealed. Seeing that Wang Guobao had fallen into his trap and would not escape, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief and smiled. “My lord, do you know what the Xie family’s troops in Jiankang are planning?”

Without waiting for a reply, Che Yin pressed on, “If I am not mistaken, the Xie troops in Jiankang are here to kill Prince Sima Daozi of Kuaiji, reclaim the chancellorship, and use the emperor to command the lords, seeking to regain the power they lost. This is outright rebellion, and the coup will likely occur today.”

Che Yin’s insight could not be faulted, though he did not mention Lady Wang. He knew Wang Guobao would think of her on his own.

Sure enough, the sweat on Wang Guobao’s neck had soaked his clothes. He had long known where Lady Wang’s loyalties lay—she was, after all, Xie An’s granddaughter and had received his dying wishes. No wonder he was so shaken.

Today was the day of the marriage alliance between the Wang Guobao and Wang Xun families, and Wang Guobao’s heart was in turmoil. Could it be that she planned the coup for today? That would be treason of the highest order!

“What should we do now?” Wang Guobao forced himself to appear calm as he sought advice.

“There are no imperial troops in Jiankang. My lord, you must find a way to open a city gate and let the imperial guards from outside enter. When the Xie family makes their move, you as Left Assistant Minister and I as General of Supporting the State can jointly restore order in the court’s name. You will have rendered great service to the court. Then, if you temporarily relinquish your power, your crisis will be averted. When the new army is strong enough to challenge the two vassals, you may return to the court’s heights.”

Wang Guobao pondered long and hard, finally nodding. “A retreat to advance—brilliant.”

…

Che Yin was right: Lady Wang had indeed planned the coup for today.

Though it was to be her wedding day, she was not at Wang Guobao’s residence in Wuyi Lane, but remained at the academy, playing the zither.

The academy, like the Daoxiang Temple on the southern outskirts of Jiankang, had originally been built by the Xie family. But now, with the Xies in decline, it had become property of the Taiyuan Wang clan. Nevertheless, people and things still bore the marks of the Xie family’s past.

“Once, the swallows before the halls of Wang and Xie, now fly into the homes of common folk.” Lady Wang murmured this line of poetry, lost in emotion. Yet now there was no one left who could understand her feelings.

Only when she wished to speak to someone did she realize that all those with whom she could converse had been sent out to pave the way for Zhang Chi’s future rise.

Thinking of Zhang Chi, a blush crept over Lady Wang’s face. I wonder, at this moment, whether his men are already on their way to Shu, she thought.

“My lady, today is your wedding day. Why have you not changed into ceremonial dress? Soon the bridal procession will reach the academy,” her maid said softly, unaware of Lady Wang’s secret plan to kill Wang Xun and Sima Daozi today.

She, like the old Daoist, was a member of the Celestial Secrets Sect, though she knew nothing of divination or the arts of evasion—only of strategy. Yet as a member of the sect, how could she not know of the prophecy made generations ago for the Langya Wang family: “As long as the Huai waters flow, the Wang clan will not perish”?

Still, she had to act today.

“There’s no need to change. The bridal procession is not likely to arrive—ever,” Lady Wang replied with a faint, serene smile.

Though she smiled calmly, anxiety gnawed at her heart.

The city was now dominated by Xie loyalist troops, and her plan was flawless in detail. Normally, Lady Wang would never have hesitated; yet today, she was filled with unease.

Perhaps it was the prophecy itself—“As long as the Huai flows, the Wang clan endures.” She, a child of the Celestial Secrets Sect, could not but trust in the calculations of her predecessors. Now she was about to oppose the will of Heaven; how could she not be anxious?

Lady Wang was a master strategist and had no need to fight in person—the real battle had already begun at mid-morning. The Xie forces split into two: one targeting the Prince of Kuaiji’s residence, the other going for Wang Xun’s mansion in Wuyi Lane.

The defense of Jiankang was naturally in the hands of Xie family veterans transferred by Lady Wang herself. During the Wei and Jin dynasties, the system allowed any noble family to recruit and maintain troops at will, leading the great clans to amass their own armies for generations. Though the Xie family was now diminished, their legacy of command made it unsurprising they still controlled troops.

The Langya Wang clan also had soldiers, but most were not in Jiankang. Lady Wang had ordered the city tightly sealed, so the Wang family’s hastily assembled forces were pitifully few and no match for the Xie troops.

Not far south of Vermilion Bird Bridge, after crossing the Qinhuai River, was Wuyi Lane. By noon, the Xie soldiers had already reached the mouth of the lane. The earth was stained red with blood, and corpses covered the road from the riverbank to the lane, leaving not a trace of earth visible. The battle had reached its climax, and the sounds of blades and spears biting into flesh were relentless.

“In a moment, I’ll be able to return and report to my lady,” thought the general on horseback, pleased with the swift progress.

Just then, a rider galloped in from the south, dismounted, and cried in panic, “General, disaster! Someone has forged the lady’s orders—the South Gate has fallen! The imperial guards have charged into the city and are coming this way!”

The general was aghast. The key to the lady’s plan was to render Jiankang an isolated fortress, cut off from the outside. Its walls were strong enough for the Xie troops to hold out against ten times their number. As long as the city was sealed, all within would be under her control.

But with one gate lost, the situation was reversed: the Xie troops inside could never withstand the massed imperial army outside.

After only a moment’s thought, the general saw the danger and ordered, “Cease fighting! Return to the South Gate at once! We must retake the gate before the imperial guards enter the city!”

He was right to hope that few guards had made it through, as then the situation might still be salvaged. Yet this was wishful thinking. The gate was open—how could the army outside not flood into the city? Before the general could withdraw his men from Wuyi Lane, the guards were upon them, led by none other than General Canghuai.

The South Gate had been opened on Wang Guobao’s false orders, claiming to be from Lady Wang. The imperial guard, lying in wait, surged in. Wang Guobao and Che Yin then entered the palace, accusing Wang Siyao and the Xie clan of rebellion. Wang Guobao, sacrificing kin for the greater good, presented his plan and begged for an order to suppress the uprising.

The ancients said, “A noble’s gate is as deep as the sea,” and “None are more heartless than the imperial family.” The more powerful the family, the feebler the ties of blood. Some, when sacrificing kin for power, do not even bat an eye.

Wang Guobao was such a man. To give up power would pain him deeply, but to give up a relative in exchange for power—he wouldn’t hesitate, especially if that relative was a daughter, and even more so if she belonged to the Xie clan.

The imperial guards, under General Canghuai, quickly routed the Xie troops. General Canghuai was satisfied—not because he had saved the Prince of Kuaiji and Wang Xun, but because the court’s ministers, obsessed with power struggles, ignored the fate of the realm. Even now, they had no idea he belonged to the Five Bushels of Rice Daoist sect, and his ambitions extended beyond the Xie family: he sought all of Jiankang, even the world itself.

As long as Lady Wang and the Xie clan stood in Jiankang, the Five Bushels of Rice sect dared not act rashly. But now, Wang Guobao had let him in, merely to prevent the Xies from seizing power. Such a blind man sat high in the court—how could the Jin dynasty not descend into chaos?