Annotation from History Reading: An inappropriate and childish question: “Why is it so harmonious?”

   
His­to­ry is actu­al­ly quite inter­est­ing; it all depends on how you look at it. Li Shimin once pro­posed the “mir­ror the­o­ry,” which states, “Using cop­per as a mir­ror, one can adjust one’s attire; using the past as a mir­ror, one can under­stand the rise and fall of things; using peo­ple as a mir­ror, one can under­stand gains and loss­es.” This is quite inter­est­ing.
   
The Zizhi Tongjian, Han Ji 27, tells the fol­low­ing sto­ry:
   
The sec­ond year of Emper­or Ping of Han (Renxu, 2 AD)
   
In the spring, the state of Huangzhi offered a rhi­noc­er­os as a trib­ute. Huangzhi was locat­ed in the South Chi­na Sea, 30,000 miles from the cap­i­tal. Wang Mang, wish­ing to dis­play his pow­er and pres­tige, gift­ed the king gen­er­ous­ly and ordered him to send an envoy to pay trib­ute.
   
A yel­low drag­on swam in the riv­er above Yuexi Coun­ty. Grand Tutor Guang, Grand Min­is­ter of Edu­ca­tion Gong, and oth­ers all exclaimed, “Mang’s mer­its and virtues are com­pa­ra­ble to those of Duke Zhou, and he should be hon­ored at the ances­tral tem­ple.” Grand Min­is­ter of Agri­cul­ture Sun Bao said, “Duke Zhou was a saint, Duke Zhao a vir­tu­ous man. Even so, there were dif­fer­ences between them, as record­ed in the clas­sics, so nei­ther com­pro­mis­es the oth­er. Now, the storms are unsea­son­able, and the peo­ple are in need. When­ev­er there’s a mat­ter, all the min­is­ters should agree. Sure­ly there’s some­thing to be said for it, and it’s a good idea.” All the min­is­ters were dis­mayed. Zhen Han imme­di­ate­ly fol­lowed the order and dis­missed the delib­er­a­tions. Hui Bao sent offi­cials to fetch his moth­er, but she was ill on the way, so she stayed at her broth­er’s home, send­ing his wife alone. Min­is­ter of Jus­tice Chen Chong impeached Bao, and the case was imme­di­ate­ly referred to the Three Dukes for ques­tion­ing. Bao replied, “I’m sev­en­ty years old, my mind is blind, and my grace is declin­ing. I share my care and care for my wife, as per the reg­u­la­tions.” Bao was dis­missed and died at home.

 
   
This sto­ry seems a bit strange at first glance. It goes that in the sec­ond year of Emper­or Ping of Han’s reign, the Huangzhi King­dom, 30,000 miles away from the cap­i­tal, unex­pect­ed­ly offered a rhi­noc­er­os as a trib­ute. They had no inten­tion of receiv­ing the rhi­noc­er­os; Wang Mang had first pre­sent­ed the king of Huangzhi with numer­ous gifts in exchange for the rhi­noc­er­os. Grant­ed, the mon­ey spent was from the trea­sury and the peo­ple’s hard-earned mon­ey, and Wang Mang him­self did­n’t spend any mon­ey, but why did he even offer a rhi­noc­er­os?

   
Then anoth­er bizarre inci­dent occurred: a coun­ty report­ed sight­ings of a yel­low drag­on swim­ming in the Yangtze Riv­er. That was a tru­ly aus­pi­cious omen! It’s a shame there weren’t any videos uploaded back then, or else the eagle-eyed neti­zens would have had their work cut out. In those days, who would have both­ered to debunk rumors of an aus­pi­cious omen?
   
In fact, in the first year of Emper­or Ping of Han’s reign (1 AD), the bar­bar­ians from the far­away regions (a tribe in the trop­i­cal jun­gles of south­ern Viet­nam) trav­eled thou­sands of miles to offer a white pheas­ant and two black pheas­ants to the impe­r­i­al court. This sto­ry is even more remark­able, as Ji Dan of the Zhou Dynasty helped King Cheng of Zhou obtain a white pheas­ant from the bar­bar­ian Yue­shang clan from the far­away regions. Ji Dan was then bestowed with the title “Duke of Zhou,” becom­ing a role mod­el for loy­al regents who assist­ed young rulers. Even Cao Cao lat­er referred to him­self as “Duke of Zhou,” com­pos­ing a self-con­so­la­tion poem: “Duke of Zhou spits out food for his guests, and the world is at peace.” Of course, that’s a sto­ry for anoth­er time. Because of this sto­ry, Emper­or Ping of Han’s min­is­ters unan­i­mous­ly request­ed that Wang Mang be grant­ed the title “Duke of Anhan”!

   
But how could this be so coin­ci­den­tal? It turns out that Wang Mang, in a show of force in Yizhou, ordered the bar­bar­ians out­side the Great Wall to claim to be the Yue­shang clan and offer them a white pheas­ant and two black pheas­ants. This was all a trick played by Wang Mang, who hint­ed at the local offi­cials in Yizhou. Because he could­n’t speak the same lan­guage as the bar­bar­ians, sev­er­al trans­la­tions were required. To make the per­for­mance “real­is­tic” and ful­ly con­sis­tent with the his­tor­i­cal allu­sion, the bar­bar­ians were also told to lie and claim to be the “Yue­shang clan” from the time of Duke Zhou. Just look at the whole thing!
 
   
In the sec­ond year of the Chi­nese AD, Wang Mang was 47 years old.
   
He was born into a fam­i­ly of mater­nal rel­a­tives; the Empress of Emper­or Yuan of Han was his aunt. How­ev­er, because his father died pre­ma­ture­ly, he spent his child­hood with­out much influ­ence from his mater­nal rel­a­tives. Com­pared to his uncles, aunts, and cousins, he could be described as some­what “lone­ly and mis­er­able.” How­ev­er, this also forged his unique char­ac­ter and tal­ents. He was dili­gent and hard­work­ing, extreme­ly capa­ble, well-known, and high­ly edu­cat­ed. He was unscrupu­lous in his pur­suit of fame, and his sec­ond and eldest sons were both dri­ven to sui­cide, ulti­mate­ly earn­ing their father a stel­lar rep­u­ta­tion.

   
How­ev­er, his career also had its ups and downs. At the age of 38, he became the pow­er­ful Grand Mar­shal under Emper­or Cheng of Han. How­ev­er, when Emper­or Ai of Han ascend­ed the throne, he was ostra­cized by the emper­or’s in-laws and lost his posi­tion, near­ly even his life. Final­ly, when Emper­or Ai died and the nine-year-old Emper­or Ping of Han ascend­ed the throne, Wang Mang’s aunt (now the Empress Dowa­ger, now 72 years old) took charge of gov­ern­ment and brought Wang Mang out of his idle home to assist in the admin­is­tra­tion. This time, Wang Mang final­ly had the oppor­tu­ni­ty to “become the moth­er-in-law of a daugh­ter-in-law”!

   
Wang Mang’s work at the time had two main focus­es: to do every­thing he could to make his aunt hap­py and make the old lady will­ing­ly put all pow­er in his hands; to vig­or­ous­ly devel­op the “Wang Mang fan club” and “cheer­lead­ing team” among his sub­jects, while com­plete­ly and thor­ough­ly elim­i­nat­ing dis­si­dents.

   
So the court began to stir. Every time there was a stir, there would be “fan clubs” singing prais­es, and even “cheer­lead­ers” would cheer, as if they were going to praise Wang Mang to the sky.
 
   
Final­ly, one elder­ly gen­tle­man could­n’t stand the “nau­sea” any­more. He was the Grand Min­is­ter of Agri­cul­ture, one of the Nine Min­is­ters. I imag­ine he was rough­ly equiv­a­lent to the cur­rent Min­is­ter of Finance and Min­is­ter of Agri­cul­ture, a high-rank­ing offi­cial. While every­one else was boast­ing and singing along, this Grand Min­is­ter of Agri­cul­ture, Sun, sud­den­ly asked a rather unpro­fes­sion­al question—at least, some­thing naive and inap­pro­pri­ate! He actu­al­ly said that even the great sages of ancient times, such as the Duke of Zhou and the Duke of Shao, had their moments of dis­plea­sure and dis­agree­ment, and that Con­fu­cian texts record­ed them, say­ing noth­ing neg­a­tive about either of them. So, what was wrong with the world today? The wind and rain were out of sea­son, the peo­ple were starv­ing, and yet, when the min­is­ters dis­cussed mat­ters, they were unan­i­mous in their praise. This, this, this main­stream voice… how could it be so har­mo­nious?

   
Wow! Such a naive ques­tion, just like the one in “The Emper­or’s New Clothes,” was­n’t asked loud­ly, but the effect was like thun­der! The min­is­ters were hor­ri­fied, and the “cheer­lead­ing” host imme­di­ate­ly called a halt!
 
   
How­ev­er, Chi­na is not a fer­tile land for fairy tales after all. This mat­ter will not end so eas­i­ly. Those who raise child­ish ques­tions will inevitably be pun­ished lat­er.
   
Some­one on the fan club imme­di­ate­ly picked out Old Man Sun’s flaws: He’d botched the process of wel­com­ing his mother—she’d fall­en ill on the way and stayed at his broth­er’s house to recu­per­ate, and the sev­en­ty-year-old had only tak­en his wife and chil­dren back to his home in Beijing—well, that was com­plete­ly against all moral prin­ci­ples! How could such an unfil­ial per­son be wor­thy of serv­ing as an offi­cial in the Celes­tial Empire?

   
“The peo­ple’s voice is as loud as thun­der” — who is this unfil­ial son?
   
So, such a high-rank­ing Min­is­ter of Agri­cul­ture was actu­al­ly “com­mit­ted a crime” for this and was dis­missed from office! How­ev­er, it was a bless­ing in dis­guise, as the old man was able to live out his life at home.
 
   
When word got out, this inci­dent had a some­what deter­rent effect. Peo­ple like Grand Chan­cel­lor Wang Chong, Impe­r­i­al House­hold Offi­cial Gong Sheng, and Impe­r­i­al Sec­re­tary Bing Han were all quite sen­si­ble. After repeat­ed self-exam­i­na­tion, they wor­ried about not being able to play the role of “fan club” or “cheer­leader,” and they all found excus­es to with­draw from the con­tro­ver­sial sit­u­a­tion.

   
Anoth­er man named Mei Fu was also quite capa­ble. He was cer­tain that Wang Mang would usurp the Han Dynasty, so to avoid the sit­u­a­tion, he played the “dis­ap­pear­ing game.” One day, he sud­den­ly left his wife and chil­dren and dis­ap­peared. Lat­er, some­one saw him in Kuai­ji. It turned out that he had changed his name and became a gate­keep­er!

   
His­tor­i­cal records can be quite humor­ous, even record­ing Mei Fu’s dis­ap­pear­ance: “Know­ing that Wang Mang would usurp the Han throne, Mei Fu aban­doned his wife and chil­dren and dis­ap­peared, his where­abouts unknown. Lat­er, some­one saw Mei Fu in Kuai­ji, and he changed his name to “Wu Shi Men­zu.”
 
   
Sure enough, three years lat­er (in 5 AD), Wang Mang poi­soned Emper­or Ping of Han, who was already his son-in-law, and made the two-year-old Ruzi Ying the emper­or, and him­self the “regent emper­or.”
   
Three years lat­er (in the eighth year of the Chi­nese AD), Wang Mang was tired of being the “act­ing emper­or”, so he asked the five-year-old Ruzi Ying to “abdi­cate” the throne to him and changed the coun­try’s name to “Xin”.
   
After indulging in the emper­or’s life for anoth­er four­teen years, he final­ly lost his empire and his life in the chaos — end­ing his “hyp­o­crit­i­cal and sin­ful life” in offi­cial his­to­ry and folk tales, or “a quite con­tro­ver­sial life” in the eyes of his­to­ri­ans, at the age of 68.
 
   
He left a huge mess behind him…
 
A‑League Records on May 5, 2010