Chapter 20- With the Venerable Minister Yang Su Dead Emperor Yang's Lust and Extravagance Run Wild

The source itself kind of warns us right from the get-go about what happens when passion takes the wheel in politics. The opening narrative sets this rather somber, cautionary tone. It reminds us that even powerful rulers can fall prey to decadence. It mentions things like red faces and green hair, beauty, youth. They're much more fleeting than life itself. And the rulers who chased after them, like the old emperors of Qi and Chen, their dynasties So we're basically watching the foundations of the Sui dynasty, potentially being chipped away by the very same human weaknesses that brought down its predecessors. And this is just weeks into the new emperor's reign. Yeah, that context is crucial. And Emperor Yang, he seems determined to prove that point immediately. The sources say, like, the moment he takes the throne, he basically blows off Emperor Xiao for two full weeks. Two weeks. He wasn't, you know, setting up his government or meeting officials. No. He was apparently locked away in the Huanghou Palace, engaged in what the text delicately calls wanton intimacy anon with consort Huanhua, his father's concubine. Wow. OK, that's that's a massive breach of, well, everything, right? Propriety, politics. It's a huge risk and just a staggering display of disrespect for the established order. He's basically signaling that his personal desires trump all the dynastic rules. So how does Empress Xiao react? I mean, she can't just let that slide. No, she doesn't just sulk. To her credit, she confronts him head on and her accusation is perfectly calculated. She doesn't just say he's betraying her, his wife. What does she say? She accuses him of the capital offense of seducing his father's concubine, Bokorei. She argues his reckless behavior threatens the moral authority of the entire court. OK, that raises the stakes considerably. And that's where we start seeing the power dynamics, right? You'd think an emperor could just brush off an angry empress, but she clearly had some leverage. What was it about her threat that actually made him, well, flinch? It really speaks volumes about how fragile his new imperial power actually was. She didn't just throw a tantrum. She threatened to expose his ugly form, his behavior to all the key officials through an imperial decree. Now, traditionally, that kind of edict comes from the empress and it carries enormous, symbolic, sometimes real weight. So by threatening to issue this decree, she was targeting his reputation, his moral standing, essentially making him look illegitimate in the eyes of the very bureaucracy he needed to run the empire. The text specifically says Yang feared Emperor Xiao. He was immediately flustered. He knew she held a key to his political stability, at least domestically. So she uses moral coercion, backed by this procedural threat, and it works. Yang then tries to sort things out with Xuanhua, right? Assures her he wouldn't hurt her. Yes, he tries to placate her, saying he has a plan. But it's actually consort Xuanhua who steps up and kind of saves the situation for both of them, politically speaking. How does she do that? She insists on being exiled. She pushes for banishment to the Cold Palace, calling it the perfect course, the safest way to protect his reputation. So she volunteers for exile. Yes. And she even brings up past tragedies, mentioning the grim fate of the Ouizhouhou, the daughter of a former emperor, likely purged after a power shift. Xuanhua understood her position was incredibly dangerous. If Xiao went public, Xuanhua would be the first casualty. Right. She'd be the scapegoat. Exile is the safer bet. Absolutely. A temporary punitive exile seemed like the best move for her survival. But look at Yang's compromise. It's very telling. He agrees to move her, OK, but not to the Cold Palace. That place was for real punishment and neglect. Where does he send her, then? He puts her in the Yandu Palace. Think of it more like a gilded cage. It's luxurious, comfortable, but still separate. And crucially, he orders that all her expenses and provisions be fully maintained. So not really a punishment, then? Not really. He's signaling, probably to her and maybe subtly to the court, that this is just a temporary sort of administrative separation, not a real fall from grace. But the separation, it seems like it backfired on Emperor Xiao, didn't it? The source says it only made Yang's obsession worse. It totally backfired. He became heartbroken. The description is quite vivid. As if drunk or obsessed, et vitre sere. Just consumed by longing for Xuanhua. OK, so Xiao's initial power play didn't really work out long term. Right. And this is where Emperor Xiao shows her strategic brilliance. She realizes the coercion failed. Physical separation just deepened his fixation, made it uncontrollable. So she completely pivots. How? She shifts from being the jealous wife to being the benevolent manager of the emperor's well-being. She goes to Yang with this really clever suggestion. Recall Xuanhua. Recall her, after she just forced her out. Exactly. But look how she frames it. She says it's to comfort the holy heart, and even more cunningly, to divide the joy. Basically, let her come back to make you happy, and I'm OK sharing your attention. Wow. That's quite the turnaround. She recasts herself as the supportive partner. Precisely. She's managing his emotional state to secure her own influence in the long run, rather than being the obstacle. It's a fantastic political move. But Xuanhua. She doesn't just jump at the chance, does she? When she's summoned, she hesitates. She does. She apparently feels like falling flowers and running water. So she initially refuses the summons. But she sends something back. Yes, she sends back a poem, Zhang Jiangxi, in that distinctive square-folded note. The poem has a refusal. Well, it's more like her final negotiation. It's her leverage play. She won't come back without some kind of security. The poem isn't just sentimentality. It's using emotional language as currency. What does it say, basically? She expresses her fear and vulnerability. Lines like, fading flowers are hard to put back on the branch, and saying she's afraid to add new separation. She's essentially asking, can I trust you this time? Will you protect me? She wants a guarantee against being banished again. And does Yang give her that guarantee? He does. Immediately. And significantly. He replies with a poem in the exact same style and meter. His response is this passionate assurance of eternal devotion. So, poetry is a contract? Kinda, yeah. This poetic exchange becomes this de facto emotional and political agreement. It's a public enough declaration, easily understood by the literate court, that Xuanhe's position is now secure. And it works. She returns, and the sources say their affection was even greater than before. But this renewed happiness, the sources tell us it was tragically short-lived. Devastatingly brief. Within just six months, Xuanhe suddenly passed away from illness. Oh wow. So Yang is plunged back into grief. Inconsolable once again. And Emperor Xiao, ever the pragmatist, understands that a grief-stricken, unstable emperor is, well, a danger to the state, and probably to her own position too. So what does she do this time? She encourages him to find a replacement. Quickly. To lessen his sorrow. Yang agrees, holds a selection, brings in court women. But he dismisses them all. He's still completely fixated on Xuanhe, saying none of them possess her heavenly grace and national beauty tai chi. He's emotionally stuck again. So this leads to Emperor Xiao's most famous move, right? The disguise. The masterful act of psychological theater, yes. She promises him she'll find someone truly outstanding. And the details are amazing. She takes off her empress robes. Meticulously. Changes her makeup to the fashionable Su makeup. Adds three specific hanging pearls to her face. And puts on a gorgeous palace maid's outfit. Not just any maid outfit, mind you, but a striking one. It's such an elaborate performance, what's the goal? It's a calculated, maybe even high-risk move. She's tapping into his grief, his known desires, his fixation on Xuanhe, but by presenting herself as this idealized, slightly lower-status version of beauty. She's trying to jolt him out of his fixation by, well, embodying a different kind of fantasy. And how does Yang react when this new maid is presented? He's instantly captivated. The source says he's overcome with lust. He actually rushes down from the throne, a total breach of imperial decorum, to lift the hesitant maid himself. He completely forgets himself. And then... Then he recognizes her. And instead of being angry at the deception, he just bursts into laughter. He praises her clever thought. It's not just amusement, you feel this huge release for him, breaking through the sorrow. Okay, so the disguise works, it breaks the emotional deadlock. Exactly. And Zhao uses this moment, this vulnerability, this good humor, perfectly. This is the pivot point. She pivots from the personal. Straight into national policy. He jokes he can't find the empress, so he'll find the new beauty. And in that moment of levity, she makes her move. She tells him, essentially, okay, maybe the palace lacks talent right now, but the realm doesn't. Ah, shifting the focus outwards. Instantly. She proposes a national recruitment drive. Send people across the entire empire to select women. She even says he might find someone ten times stronger than Xuan Hua. She's effectively outsourcing his personal desire, making it a state project, which, perhaps counterintuitively, might actually manage the risk of his personal obsessions running wild. That's the crucial policy shift. Taking this personal romantic tragedy and turning it into a mandate for a massive empire-wide selection process. But Yang, maybe thinking a bit more clearly now, sees a problem. Yes, he anticipates the political pushback. Resistance from the bureaucracy, the established officials. He worries about court officials having many arguments and remonstrances. Too much. Understandable. This would be controversial. Expensive. Hugely controversial. And Emperor Xiao immediately pinpoints the biggest potential obstacle. Old man Yang Su. Yang Su. Not just any minister, right? No. Definitely not. He was the chief minister, an incredibly powerful figure. His support, or at least lack of opposition, was vital for the stability of the whole Sui regime. If he publicly opposed this national selection plan, the emperor would face a serious political battle. So how do you handle the most powerful man in government who might torpedo your plan? You don't challenge him in open court. Exactly right. And Xiao's advice here is just brilliant political psychology. She tells Yang, Invite Yang Su to the Royal Garden tomorrow. The excuse. To admire the blooming orchids. Orchids are just a cover. They're the distraction, the pretext. The real reason is to get the minister into a relaxed, private setting. Somewhere he can't make a big public scene, where he has to keep his reaction more contained. It allows Yang to subtly sound him out, gauge his reaction to the selection idea, and then settle the plan based on that private conversation. Hopefully without triggering a huge bureaucratic fight or making Yang Su lose face. It starts pretty badly, right? With just pure disrespect. Oh, absolutely. So the setting is the Imperial Garden Taiyi Pool. Pretty idyllic. Yang Di summons Yang Su. But Yang Su doesn't exactly rush over. He rolls up in a palanquin, gets out, gives the emperor just one single quick bow, and sits like it's nothing. One bow for the emperor. One bow. And then, almost immediately, he starts criticizing Yang Di's plan to go fishing. You're kidding. What is he saying? He brings up the classics. The Spring and Autumn Annals saying that some ruler, Lu Ying Gong, was criticized just for looking at fish. He contrasts it with the virtue of the sage Emperor Shun. He's basically lecturing the emperor he just installed, telling him his choice of leisure is frivolous beneath him. Wow. Okay, so he's not just powerful. He's acting like a tutor. Or maybe even more. It feels like co-ruler, doesn't it? Maybe even the senior partner. Yang Di tries to push back a bit, compares Yang Su to this famous fisherman-sage, Zhang Tai Gong, trying to dignify the fishing. And Yang Su just takes the compliment. Just accepts it. The tension is just palpable. So Yang Di tries to regain some control, proposes a contest. Right, the fishing wager. Yeah, it becomes this test of authority disguised as a game. First one to catch a fish wins. The loser, the late catcher, has to drink this huge goblet of wine, a Zhugong, as a penalty. Okay, so the pressure's on. How does it go? Well, fate, or maybe just luck, seems to favor Yang Di initially. Anyway, he catches two fish. But they're tiny. One's like three inches long, the other just a small tail. Still, two fish. He must have felt a bit better. Starts counting up Yang Su's penalties. Instantly. He's like, okay, that's one drink you owe me. But Yang Su, he's having a terrible time. He pulls up empty hooks twice. Oh dear. That's embarrassing. And, apparently, some palace maids who are watching all this, they can't help themselves. They giggle, covering their mouths. Yang Su sees this. He is furious. You can see it on his face. But he forces a smile, and then drops this incredibly arrogant line. The swan line. That's the one. Sparrows do not know the ambition of the swan. Just, whoa. To the emperor's face. And he doubles down, says he's just waiting to catch a magnificent golden carp as a longevity toast for his majesty, of course. That's not just confidence. That's practically insubordination. It implies his own goals are way beyond this petty contest. It's utterly dismissive, and Yang Di snaps. He is absolutely enraged by this, the disrespect, the arrogance. He actually storms off. He leaves. Yeah, he leaves the fishing spot, fully intending to order the palace maids right then and there to kill Yang Su, to assassinate the old thief, as he calls him. He's ready to risk it all. Assassinate him. With maize. That sounds desperate. But he didn't do it. What stopped him? He's the emperor. He's furious. He is the emperor, but he's also trapped. Killing Yang Su, especially like that, without a clear public cause, it would mean immediate civil war. Yang Su's generals would likely revolt. So who talked him down? It was Empress Xiao. She steps in, very wisely, and reminds him, look, this man is a fierce general. He's an old minister. The army listens to him. She basically says, you kill him now, without a really good reason, the court accepts, and the whole empire could fall apart tomorrow. So Yang Di has to just swallow his pride, go back. He has to. He agrees to wait, bide his time, find a better opportunity. Imagine the humiliation. He has to go back and sit there, watching his rival fish, knowing everyone saw him lose his temper, and then back down. God, it's intense. So he goes back, simmering. Yang Su, he appears looking even more impressive. Handsome, the source says. White beard in the wind. It says he has the aura of an emperor. Ooh, that's not good. Talk about poking the bear. It's like a deliberate provocation. And then, the ultimate symbolic victory. Yang Su casts his line and pulls in a huge, beautiful golden carp, over a foot long. Big fish. He actually did it. The golden carp he promised. He did. He throws down his rod, laughs out loud. Total triumph. Okay, so Yang Su wins the symbolic battle. But then something else happens, right? This strange omen. Yeah, just as Yang Su is gloating, this local fisherman shows up with an even bigger fish. A truly bizarre one, five feet long, gold scales, red tail. Looks miraculous. Whoa. What did they make of that? Yang Su immediately sees it as potentially a bad sign. A strange portent. He actually suggests they should kill it right away to prevent some future wind and thunder disaster. He's superstitious. Or maybe just cautious. And Yang De, does he listen this time? Nope. Maybe he's feeling reckless. Maybe he just wants to defy Yang Su again. He laughs it off. He takes a brush, marks the fish's head with two characters, ji sheng, which means something like released alive, and throws it back into the water. So he rejects Yang Su's advice again, releases the potential bad omen, and then turns back to the drinking. Back to the penalty drinks. The emperor's two tiny fish are served up as a fancy dish. And Yang De immediately makes Yang Su drink that huge penalty goblet. Because Yang Su caught fewer fish, technically. Okay, fair enough, based on the rules they set. Yang Su drinks it down. But then, the sheer audacity he demands, Yang De drink a goblet too. In honor of his fish, because it was so much bigger and better. Wait, what? He's changing the rules now? He's basically saying, quality beats quantity. My fish was magnificent, your fish were minnows. My achievement outweighs your technical win. It's another power play. How does Yang De react to that? He tries to shut it down. He insists, no, the rule is the count. I caught two, you caught one, you drink again. He demands Yang Su drink a second penalty goblet. Okay, this is getting messy. They must both be pretty drunk by now too. Oh, definitely. And Yang Su just loses it. Completely drunk, he refuses the second drink flat out. An attendant brings the wine goblet over, and Yang Su violently shoves the attendant. Shoves him. In front of the emperor. Shoves him so hard, the attendant stumbles, spills wine all over Yang Su's fancy official robe. This is a huge breach of court etiquette. Public disorder. Contempt. That's it. That has to be the final straw, right? Surely that's the justification Yang De needed. It's the fatal mistake. But Yang Su isn't finished digging his own grave. Still drunk, still furious, he uses his own authority to order that attendant, who is technically the emperor's servant, dragged away and beaten. 20 strokes. He orders the emperor's servant beaten. Yes. And forces Yang Dai to just sit there, silent, humiliated, and watch it happen. It's the ultimate power move. He's showing everyone, see, I give the orders here. Even the emperor's people answer to me. Unbelievable. The political humiliation is absolute. But the story doesn't quite end there, does it? There's a supernatural element. Right. The source gets very dramatic here. Yang Su finally leaves the garden. As he's heading out, this sudden, weirdly cold wind hits him. An ill wind. Mm. Okay. And then he supposedly sees a ghost. First, the ghost of Lady Xuan Hua. She was one of the late Emperor Wen's consorts. And the ghost apparently mutters something about their shared secrets, their complicity in how Yang Di came to power, hinting at the murky business of the succession. Ooh, spooky. And incriminating. But that's just the warm-up act. Then he's confronted by the ghost of Emperor Wen himself. The man Yang Di replaced, likely with Yang Su's help. The previous emperor's ghost, what does it do? Emperor Wen's ghost is apparently dressed in mourning clothes, but he's carrying a golden battle axe, a jinyou. He denounces Yang Su right there, calls him a regicide, a traitor who helped kill his sovereign. And then he strikes him down with the axe. Wow. So, divine or ghostly retribution for regicide. That's a powerful claim in the source. It certainly sends a message. Whether you take it literally or, you know, metaphorically as a stroke or heart attack brought on by stress and drink, the result is the same. Yang Su is carried home, basically dying. Does he say anything? It's just barely. He manages to gasp out to his son, Yang Hong Gun, something like, the plot, it's discovered. And then he dies. Before midnight that same day. Gone. Just like that. The biggest check on the emperor's power vanished in a matter of hours after that disastrous fishing trip. The entire political landscape changed overnight. The restraint was gone. So this is the crucial point, isn't it? What happens immediately after Yang Su is dead, the instant the threat is removed. Yeah, this is where you see Yang Di unbound. His reaction. According to the source, it was just pure, overwhelming joy. He literally thought, the old thief is dead, I have nothing to fear anymore. The fear was gone. So, what's priority number one for the newly unrestrained emperor? Stabilize the government? Secure the borders? Priority number one was women. Absolutely. He immediately orders 10 of his most trusted eunuchs, names Wan Shu, Yan Fu, to fan out across the entire empire. North, south, east, west, regardless of location, their mission was to find the most beautiful young women, aged 15 to 20, and bring them back to the palace. Just collect women. As the first act. And he made it crystal clear, failure was not an option. He threatened severe punishment if they didn't succeed. It instantly set this tone of fear and, frankly, predation. Okay, wow. So, personal gratification first. What was priority number two? Grandiose construction. Almost immediately, Yang Di starts planning a massive new eastern capital at Luoyang, and the centerpiece. An incredibly extravagant new palace, purely for leisure and pleasure, the Xianren Palace. A party palace, basically. Who did he put in charge of building this? He appoints two guys known for being, well, total yes-men. Sycophants? Yuan Kai and Feng Dai. And Feng Dai gets right to work, telling the emperor this palace needs to be utterly unparalleled. The biggest, the best, the most luxurious thing ever built. He talks about needing rare materials, exotic plants, strange animals brought in from everywhere, south of the Great River, north of the Five Ridges. The whole empire looted for one palace. Okay, so where does the money for all this come from? Selecting women nationwide? Building a gigantic new capital and palace? That sounds expensive. Devastatingly so. And this is where the emperor's personal desires directly translate into nationwide suffering. The funding mechanism was brutally simple. A new tax. A massive, immediate flat tax. Every single province, every county across the entire Sui empire was ordered to pay 3,000 ounces of silver. Just like that. 3,000 ounces? Yeah. From everywhere? Regardless of their ability to pay? Exactly. No consideration for local conditions, harvest failures, anything. The source says the result was immediate chaos. Four directions turmoil and 10,000 surnames suffering. The economic shockwave hit instantly. So the connection is direct. Yang Tzu dies. The restraint vanishes. And boom. Imperial orders for women, palaces, and crushing taxes that throw the country into turmoil.