Chapter 27- Emperor Yang Indulges in Lusts, Ransacks the Country and Rewards His Confidantes

The sources we're using are pretty blunt about it. They are. They make this point that sure, a ruler might seem immensely wealthy, rich within the four seas, as they put it. But every single thing, every palace, every fancy decoration, these incredibly complex setups, it all came from somewhere. It came from Min Kai's civilian wealth, and it was moved by Min Li's civilian labor. That's the core message. And it wasn't just the official cost, was it? There was more going on. Oh, definitely. The sources hammer this point home Su Mao and King Kei. Basically, corruption and theft were everywhere. So the actual burden on the people was even higher than just the construction budget? Much higher. It's that terrible multiplier effect you get with unchecked power and, frankly, vanity projects on this scale. OK, so let's set the scene a bit. What sparked all this? The empire wasn't exactly sitting idle at this point. Not at all. Emperor Yang seems to have developed this. The sources call it a desire for wild lust. And this led him to kick off multiple enormous projects all at once. Not just one thing, but several huge undertakings simultaneously. Precisely. Think about the logistics, the sheer strain. You've got officials like Xu Tingfu being sent out to find embroidery women across the empire. Which sounds delicate, but it's basically a state-mandated requisition of people, skilled artisans, for the palace. Exactly. At the same time, Yuan Pai gets orders to start building the Xinern Palace in Luyang, a massive palace complex. OK, so palace construction, acquisition of personnel. What else? Infrastructure, but maybe not the kind you'd expect. Ma Xiumu and Ling Yuda were told to mobilize huge numbers of people to open up river channels. So digging canals while also building palaces and rounding up skilled women. Yeah, you can imagine the chaos. The sources describe people eastern running and western dashing. Just total upheaval, forced movement everywhere. And this wasn't simple digging either. Right. The palace work involved intricate details. Oh, absolutely. We're talking elaborate decorations, specific arrangements, all the furnishings, highly specialized, very resource-intensive work. And pulling people off their land for this? The timing must have been brutal. It often was. Taking farmers away during planting or harvest, that's not just a labor cost. You're talking about triggering food shortages, potential famine. The downstream effects were devastating. So the empire's foundations are shaky, but the emperor wants more. Well, and the court system encourages it. After Xinern Palace has finished this already huge project, a courtier named Yu Shiji steps up. Sensing the emperor isn't quite satisfied yet? You got it. He basically says, Your Majesty, one palace, hardly enough for your holy imperial pleasure. He suggests something even bigger. A vast western park. A pleasure garden on an even grander scale. And the emperor agreed? Enthusiastically. Gave Yu Shiji the green light to basically build a paradise. Okay, let's try and picture this western park. What did Yu Shiji actually build? The scale sounds immense. It really was. So in the southern part of the designated area, they dug out five huge lakes. Five of them? How big are we talking? Each one was ten lai square. Now a lai is roughly half a kilometer, maybe a third of a mile. So these are big bodies of water, several kilometers across each one. Wow, okay. And just empty lakes? No, no. Immediately planted with all sorts of exotic flowers, unusual grasses, instant landscaping on a massive scale. And around them? Long dikes separating the lakes. And get this. Along the dikes, a pavilion every hundred steps. A terrace every fifty steps. That precise? Exactly. Lined with alternating peach and willow trees. It's hyper-managed environmental design. Think of the labor involved in just that planning and planting over miles of terrain. Dragon boats and phoenix barges were apparently floating on the lakes too. Okay, that's the south. What about the northern part? Even more ambitious, perhaps. They dug out this enormous area, basically a huge man-made sea called the North Sea. Forty lai around. Forty lai circumference. That's huge. Massive. And they engineered a channel to connect it to the five southern lakes, keeping the water fresh and flowing. Moving that much earth, rerouting water. The amount of manly civilian labor is just staggering to think about. And inside this North Sea? This is where it gets almost mythological. They built three enormous artificial mountains. Artificial mountains? Why? To look like the legendary islands of the sea deities, Penglai, Fangzang, and Yingzhou. Homes of the immortals. So he's building a literal myth in his backyard. Pretty much. And the height matters. They were built up to 100 zhang. A zhang is, what, about 10 feet? So these are peaks hundreds of feet high. Why so high? The sources say it was so he could stand on top and see the capital, Shijing, and even the distant Jiangnan lakes. It's about visual control, owning the landscape. From his pleasure garden. From his man-made mythological mountain and his pleasure garden, yeah. And the materials used. Yeah. Were they just normal? Far from it. The garden walls, glazed tiles, luli zuwa, and this special purple fat clay, zizimi bi. Purple fat clay. Just sounds luxurious, whatever it was. And the mountains weren't just piled dirt, they used chengfeng guaishi, long peak strange stones. Yimimi tozu. Meaning unique, specific types of rock that had to be found, quarried, transported, likely from far away, more specialized labor, more cost. And the buildings within the park. Rare timbers dripping with gold and silver adornments. The description is like brocade tailored, pearls and jewels created. Just absolute peak luxury. It sounds less like construction and more like wealth evaporation. That's a good way to put it. Every bit of that sparkle came from minkai, the people's wealth, put there by minli, their forced labor. They even brought in specific animals, cranes, pheasants, golden apes, deer, to make it seem as if heaven and earth had opened it and created it naturally. Total artifice. So eventually the emperor comes to see it all. Right. First, he tours the Shirinren Palace. And the descriptions from officials are just glowing, as you'd expect. Like what? Things like flying ridges pierce the sky, golden halls and jade stairs resembling the palace of the ninth heaven emperor. You know, standard imperial flattery, but probably based on some stunning visuals, he was pleased. That was the real showstopper. When you finally toured it, the poetic descriptions capture this. Well, this overwhelming sensory experience he clearly wanted. Such as? Five lakes surging, north sea waves shaking, and three mountains accumulating auspicious energy. He saw his fantasy world made real. And then came the naming. This part seems really telling. It really is. Because the officials wouldn't dare name anything in this masterpiece, the emperor himself went around and named everything. Every lake, every building, every feature. Every single one. He inspected every corner. It's this ultimate act of possession and maybe micromanagement driven by ego. So the names weren't just functional labels. Not at all. They often captured these really specific, almost fleeting moments of light or sound. It shows this obsession with controlling his entire sensory environment. Can you give some examples? The lakes, maybe? Sure. So the East Lake was named Kuiguang Lake, Greenlight Lake. Why? Because the green willows and the mountain reflections supposedly made the water look perfectly green. Okay, specific. Right. The South Lake, with tall buildings nearby reflecting sunlight, became Yingyang Lake, facing the sunlight. Makes sense, in a way. And the Central Lake was Guangming Lake, Wide Bright Lake. The reasoning. The moon reflecting on its wide surface made it seem like the water stretched to the sky. He's naming things based on reflections. Yes. Defining the reality of this massive, costly construction based on how light plays on it. That contrast, the ephemeral beauty he's naming, versus the brutal human cost to create the structure causing the reflection, is quite stark. And there were smaller structures, too. 16 courts. Yeah, 16 individual courts built along this winding channel. And he named the channel, too, of course. Long Linquan dragon scale channel. Because the buildings along it looked like scales. And the courts themselves. Were their names just as specific? Even more so sometimes. It's almost whimsical if it weren't so disturbing. Take Kusheng Court, Autumn Sound Court. Autumn Sound. Named purely because the sound of wind rustling through nearby Wutong trees sounded like autumn approaching. A whole structure, built with forced labor, covered in luxury, dedicated to a seasonal sound effect. It's so fun. Or how about Yingwen Court, Shadowed Patterns Court. Get this. It was named because sunlight hit the multicolored stones at the bottom of the channel, casting shifting colored patterns onto the curtains and pillows inside the court. Named after a temporary light pattern. Exactly. A building named for a fleeting optical effect. The level of curated experience demanded is just... Wow. Any others that stand out? Well, there's Renji Court, Benevolence and Wisdom. He named that by referencing a classical phrase about delighting in mountains and water. Because it sat right between the mountains and the water futures. Giving his consumption a philosophical gloss. And Jiangyang Court, Descending Sun. That one sounds almost practical. It faced the warm side, had plum blossoms, and was apparently perfect for watching snow fall cozily. So every comfort, every aesthetic detail, every philosophical justification imaginable was literally built into the landscape. 16 courts, five lakes, three huge mountains, a man-made sea, all built through immense effort. All personally named by one man. Named after sounds, reflections, philosophical concepts, cozy viewing spots, the whole range. Built by breaking the backs of the populace and emptying the state coffers. Which brings us back to the core point, the synthesis here. What was the immediate purpose of all this, according to the sources? And this is the kicker. After all that effort, all that naming, the emperor actually delayed assigning these 16 courts to anyone. He delayed, why? Didn't he have people to put in them? Well, he had some concubines left over from his existing group. But not enough, apparently, to fill 16 bespoke pleasure courts. So he was waiting. He was waiting for the new batch of embroidery women, the ones Yu Ting Fu was out gathering to arrive. Then he'd decide who got which court. Wait, so this whole colossal project, the lakes, the mountains, the courts, named after sounds and light patterns. It was built primarily as fancy lodging for women he hadn't even acquired yet. Emperor Yang's reign. It sounds like extravagance doesn't even begin to cover it. No, the scale was immense. Huge construction projects, this constant insatiable demand for luxury. Which meant tribute pouring in constantly, right? The sources mentioned foreign islands, remote regions, sending their best stuff. Everything. Strange treasures, exotic horses, and yeah, a steady supply of beautiful women. And this constant flow of wealth and people, I suppose, created a perfect storm for corruption. Oh, absolutely. We see it right away with the official in charge of selecting the women. Xu Ting Fu. Xu Ting Fu, okay. The sources are specific. He'd just been shaken down himself, actually. Extorted for 5,000 gold by these figures, Qi Guoyan and Li Ruiqi. 5,000 gold, that's a huge amount back then. Astronomical. And clearly, he needed to make that money back fast. Which leads to this pretty horrifying system he set up for the selection process. Codified bribery, basically. Yeah, he was picking over 1,000 women, these embroidered women. And how did the bribery part work? Was it just under the table? No, that's what's so wild. It was formalized, bureaucratized almost, into three registers, three lists. Okay. The upper register, that was for women who came with serious gifts. Expensive jewelry, valuable items. Right. The middle register was for, well, fewer gifts. Still something, but less extravagant. And the third register. And this is where it gets really cynical. I can only imagine. The sources emphasize this. Yeah. A woman could be a national beauty. Objectively stunning. Maybe the most desired woman in the land. But if she didn't offer any kindness or gifts, meaning bribes, she went straight into the third register, the lowest rank. So her actual beauty, her merit, meant nothing without cash. Absolutely nothing. It completely flips the whole idea of selection based on talent or looks. It wasn't a selection. It was an auction. Pure and simple. Wow. Okay, so after this auction, they fill the West Garden, Monsieur, this sprawling imperial pleasure zone. Very much. And out of thousands, they picked just 16. The most beautiful, made-into-four-pin ladies. What does that rank actually mean? Four-pin. Well, in the imperial bureaucracy, the pin system marked rank. Four-pin was actually a relatively high official position within the court structure. So they weren't just there to look pretty. Not entirely. Yeah. They each got a small jade seal, like an official stamp, engraved with their court name. And their job was to manage the 16 different courts within the West Garden. They had real administrative duties within the harem. Administrators of pleasure. Okay. And below them. Supporting them, yeah. Yeah. There were 320 beauties, 20 assigned to each of those 16 courts. And their job was just entertainment. Pretty much. Learning music, instruments, singing, dancing, constant preparation for banquets and imperial visits. The logistics alone are just staggering to think about. And someone had to manage all this. Right. They appointed a new official, Ma Shuzong, as the Xiun commander. His sole job was controlling who came in and who went out. It was this sealed world built for pleasure, security, and, well, intense competition. Which brings us right to that competition, doesn't it? Theme two. This frantic scramble for just one look from the emperor. You've got thousands of people all packed into these 16 courts, all desperate for imperial favor, knowing it's the only way out. And the competition wasn't just about being beautiful, you said. No. Beauty was, well, common in that environment. They had to innovate constantly. It became this sensory warfare almost, using incredibly extravagant resources. Like luxury one-upmanship. Exactly. The sources give examples. Yeah. One court would burn dragon saliva. Dragon saliva. What even is that? Ambergris. Comes from sperm whales. Incredibly rare. Incredibly valuable. Used for perfume medicine. Okay. To just burn it as incense. That's like burning gold. Wow. And the next court would? Immediately try to top it. They'd burn something called phoenix brain. We don't know exactly what that was, but you get the idea. Constant escalation. It's insane. Burning fortunes just to smell nice. And it wasn't just smell. One court sings Wu songs, these delicate regional melodies. The next court immediately puts on these robust, energetic chew dances. Trying to offer something different, something more striking. Always. They'd prepare gold jade winds. These unbelievably elaborate and rare dishes. Then another court tries to outdo them by brewing immortal liquid Kuang paste. Everything was designed to be novel, to shock, to delight the emperor just for a moment. But was it worth it? All that effort, all that expense. Well, that's the tragedy, isn't it? The narrative itself points out the futility. There's this incredibly powerful couplet dropped right into the description of all this luxury. What does it say? It says, palace pleasures are of a thousand kinds. Only to win the king's happiness for a moment. Just for a moment. All day long, the mind is used beneath the skirt belt. While the rivers and mountains are seen by others. Wow. Okay, unpack that. Beneath the skirt belt. It means all the energy, all the intelligence, all the resources of the court are focused entirely on these intimate, personal, fleeting pleasures of the emperor. While the actual empire. The rivers and mountains are being neglected. Yes. Left vulnerable. Left to be seen by others, meaning rivals, enemies, rebels. The critique is brutal. So the emperor was just never satisfied. He'd get bored. Exactly. His attention was notoriously fleeting. He'd enjoy one novelty, then demand something new. So all this effort, this bankrupting extravagance, was for a man who couldn't really be pleased in any lasting way. And the cost wasn't just personal for these women. It was a cost to the entire dynasty. Precisely. Vanity wasn't just a personal failing. It was undermining the state itself. Okay, so we've seen the cost of attention measured in gold, incense, rare foods. Now let's shift gears completely. Right. From the hundreds competing with luxury, to one individual competing with, well, something else entirely. Loyalty. Let's talk about the dwarf, Wang Yi. Wang Yi. He arrived from Daozhou in Nanchu. Also his tribute, like the women. Okay. And description. Sure, yes. But the text says he had thick eyebrows and handsome eyes. Yeah. And crucially, he was known for being really articulate, very quick-witted, clever in conversation. So not just a physical curiosity, he had brains. Definitely. And he used them immediately. When the emperor saw him, he apparently asked, you know, why Wang Yi was even presented. He wasn't a beauty, wasn't some rare object. And Wang Yi had an answer ready. Oh, did he ever. It was a masterclass in positioning. He basically said he came precisely because he wasn't those things. He came to avoid distracting the emperor with dangerous beauties or ominous treasures. Clever. So what did he offer instead? Just his loyal service. Pure, unadulterated, and implicitly safe. He's framing himself as the antidote to all that dangerous extravagance we just talked about. Exactly. He's saying, I'm not a risk. I won't corrupt your morals. I won't drain your treasury. I'm just loyal. Did the emperor buy it? I mean, surely he had lots of loyal officials already. He was skeptical at first. He apparently said something like, you know, do I need another loyal official? And Wang Yi's response sealed the deal. It's a really powerful line. He said, loyalty and righteousness are the treasures of the state. A ruler always fears not having enough. How can he reject it for being too much? Wow. Okay, that reframes loyalty from a common virtue to a scarce essential resource. Absolutely. He made himself politically indispensable in that moment. So the emperor was impressed. Yeah, immediately. Delighted, apparently. Rewarded the people who brought Wang Yi and kept Wang Yi close by his side from then on. And Wang Yi served well. Incredibly well. Carefully, cautiously, always considerate. The emperor grew extremely fond of him, wanted him around constantly. But there was a problem. A physical barrier. The ultimate barrier. Wang Yi was male. He could get close, but he couldn't enter the deepest parts of the inner palace where the emperor spent his private hours, where he slept. That absolute 247 proximity was denied to him. Right. He could be valuable during the day, but he couldn't achieve that ultimate closeness, that constant presence near the center of power. And this clearly bothered Wang Yi. It made him an obsession. The text says one day the emperor noticed he looked really down, sorrowful and miserable. And Wang Yi confessed. He did. He said his distress was because he longed to follow the emperor day and night. But that deep palace barrier stopped him. How did the emperor react? He acknowledged Wang Yi's value, said he needed him, but basically sighed and said, unfortunately, Wang Yi was not a thing of the palace, meaning not a eunuch. He stated the problem but offered no solution. Essentially, yeah. I wish you could be here, but rules are rules. So Wang Yi is left standing outside the gate, completely distraught. Exactly. And that's when the solution presents itself, or rather is suggested to him by Zhang Cheng and the eunuch guarding the nearby Xianren palace. Zhang Cheng. Okay. Did they know each other? Apparently they were friendly. Zhang Cheng approaches Wang Yi, sees he's upset and makes the suggestion. The suggestion. Delivered how? Seriously. Jokingly. The text implies it might have been a bit of both. Maybe half joking. But deadly serious underneath. He says basically, look, it's not hard for you to get into the palace. Just gently cut away that part below. Precisely. The pathway to permanent proximity. And Wang Yi's reaction? Was he horrified? Did he hesitate? Not for a second. His resolve was instant. He didn't flinch at the idea of the act itself. Really? No fear of the pain or the finality of it? His only concern initially was whether it was even possible for an adult. He thought maybe only children could undergo castration safely. Okay. But Zhang Cheng assured him, yes, it's possible for an adult, but it would be extremely painful. And Wang Yi's response to that? It tells you everything. He just says, if it can be done, what does the pain matter? Wow. The ambition just completely overrides any physical concern? Completely. He insisted Zhang Cheng help him. Right then. Immediately. Did Zhang Cheng agree easily? He must have known the risk. He was reluctant. But Wang Yi pressed him. Apparently, they had a drinking session first, maybe liquid courage, maybe just stalling. But Wang Yi kept insisting. Eventually, Zhang Cheng agreed to assist. And the preparations. The source gives details, right? Yes. And they're really striking. They showed this wasn't some crude, hasty act. It was serious, dangerous, and involved valuable materials. Zhang Cheng provided three things. Okay. What were they? First, the knife. Described as so sharp it could cut a falling hair. Blow hair capable of being cut. So an exceptionally fine, likely very expensive blade. Precision was key. Absolutely. Second, a package of yellow powder. This was an anesthetic. Mixed with wine. Consumed beforehand to numb the pain. Anesthetic. Okay. And third? Packaged five-color powder. This was described as a kind of spiritual medicine meant to stop the bleeding and promote healing. It specifically mentions ingredients like pearl and amber. Pearl and amber. So incredibly valuable substances used for the aftercare. Yes. It emphasizes the gravity. A razor-sharp knife, anesthetic, and precious, almost ritualistic healing agents. This was a monumental exchange. He's trading his physical wholeness using these valuable tools and medicines for guaranteed access. It's the ultimate price for proximity. Exactly. And the source material drives this point home with one final couplet that sums up the whole chilling episode. What is it, sir? It basically tells the reader, do not talk about the body not being allowed to be maimed for the sake of grasping the king's fixed favor. Don't worry about Confucian ideals of bodily integrity, not when permanent imperial favor is on the line. Precisely. That desire for stable, guaranteed, fixed proximity to power completely trumped everything else. The sacredness of the body, the physical pain, philosophical objections, none of it mattered compared to getting inside that final gate. Emperor Yang is chilling in the rear palace. He's got Emperor Xiao with him, some entertainment, some newly selected palace girls. Standard palace life. And one girl catches his eye. She moves very gracefully. So he calls her forward. And asks the most basic question, random. Well, where are you from? Simple enough. Or so you'd think. She answers, but in this dialect, that's just completely incomprehensible to everyone there. Total silence. Nobody gets it. Not even Emperor Xiao, who's usually pretty sharp with these things, is suddenly awkward. Embarrassing, really, for the court. OK, so the emperor needs a translator. Stat. And he remembers this guy, Wang Yi. Right, Wang Yi. The source says he's extremely clever. Xingji Guaikou. And crucially, he knows all the dialects, four-direction village speech, Sifeng Xiangyu. He's the go-to guy for this. Exactly. So two junior eunuchs, little inner court guys, are sent off immediately. Urgent mission, find Wang Yi. And this is where our deep dive really begins, because following that errand doesn't just lead to a translator. No, it leads to the scene of, well, near disaster. And that forces the big conversation we want to explore. Right. So the eunuchs rush out. They're looking for Wang Yi. They track him down to the home of Zeng Cheng. Who is Zeng Cheng? He's the superintendent of the Imperial Guard. Shougang Jin. OK, so a fairly important guy. And the eunuchs, being inner court attendants, they don't stand on ceremony. They just burst in. And what they walk in on is pretty shocking. Yeah, lay it out for us. They find Wang Yi, first off, drunk, like really drunk. The text says eight or nine parts wine. So basically hammered. Pretty much. And he's lying down on a couch. His lower body is exposed. OK. And Zeng Cheng, the superintendent, is right there beside him. He's actively applying medicine to the root of Wang Yi's private parts. Applying medicine. The text says he was about to operate Jiang Yadong's show. Exactly. They walked in literally moments before Zeng Cheng was going to, well, use a knife. Oh, wow. So Zeng Cheng freezes. Instantly. Wang Yi scrambles to cover himself up. But it's too late. The evidence is right there on the table. The knife. Yeah. Dowsy. And the medicine packet yaobao. It's obvious what was about to happen. Yeah, no hiding it. The eunuchs demand an explanation, like what on earth is going on here? And Zeng Cheng has to fess up. He does. He admits Wang Yi was attempting self-castration, jingxian, cleansing the body. He was trying to become a eunuch. Voluntarily. Desperately. To get closer to the emperor. To serve him more directly. Without, you know, the distractions or limitations of being a regular official. That is extreme devotion. Or maybe desperation. Why would he do that? Risk his life like that. Well, you gotta understand the system. Eunuchs, yeah, they were physically altered. Often looked down upon. But a trusted inner court eunuch, they had insane access. Right. Direct line to the emperor. Bypassing all the bureaucracy. Exactly. For someone smart and ambitious like Wang Yi, it probably seemed like the ultimate fast track. More influence. More power. Right at the center. So in his admittedly drunken mind, this wasn't self-mutilation. It was ultimate dedication. That seems to be the idea. Shedding his physical self to serve completely. Okay. So eunuchs realize they literally arrived just in time. Just. They make Wang Yi clean off the medicine, get himself together as best he can, despite being drunk. And they haul him back to the palace. Along with the knife, the medicine, the whole story. Yeah. So that initial problem, the language barrier. Yeah. Suddenly seems pretty small compared to this. Totally overshadowed. So Wang Yi is brought before the emperor. He kneels down. He's still drunk. Probably shaking. And for once, this master of languages is tongue-tied. Can't get a word out. So the little eunuchs have to tell the whole story. Every detail. The state they found him in. Zhang Cheng, the knife, the medicine. The reason this intended act of supreme loyalty. And the emperor's reaction. You'd expect maybe rage, right? Emperor Yang wasn't exactly known for his patience. Right. But no. The source says he just frowned slightly. Long mei wei ku. A subtle reaction. And then instead of punishment, he launches into a philosophy lecture. Pretty much. It's kind of amazing. He doesn't yell. He reasons with Wang Yi. This is the core of it. Okay. So what's his argument? He starts with the traditional reasons for castration. He says, look, becoming a eunuch isn't something you just do. It's traditionally reserved for those afflicted by solitary fate. Ming fan gu luan. Solitary fate. What does that mean? Basically, people whose horoscopes predict they're destined to bring harm or misfortune to their family. Like shang ke ching hei. Or xin ke qi nu. Curses that affect parents, siblings, wife, kids. So it's like a last resort. If your destiny is toxic to your family, you serve the state alone as a eunuch. A kind of spiritual quarantine. That's a good way to put it. And the emperor points out, even then, even when kids say dong zi xi, the experienced old eunuchs don't just grab a knife. Right. There's a process. A whole process. They check horoscopes. They do divination. Le dui ba zi suan hua du. They make sure this fate is real before they proceed. And Wang Yi. Wang Yi is a grown man. Over 20, the emperor notes, he just acted rashly, recklessly, putting his life on the line for no good reason, according to this tradition. Okay, but here's the tension, right? If Wang Yi did this out of loyalty, trying to get closer to serve the emperor, shouldn't the emperor be maybe a little flattered, even if it was foolish? You'd think. But this is where Emperor Yang pulls out the big guns. He frames it not just as foolish, but as fundamentally wrong. He says, your loyalty and righteous courage, I know it. I see it. Acknowledging the intent. But, he says, you only think of fulfilling loyalty, Jin Zhong, and yet you forget repaying the root, bao ben. Bao ben. Repaying the root. That's huge. That's like court Confucian duty 101, right? Filial piety. Obligation to your parents, your ancestors. The ultimate obligation. And the emperor spells it out. That obligation is tied to your body and your lineage. Your parents gave birth to you, raised you, hoping you'd establish a home and family and multiply the line. Have kids, carry on the family name. Exactly. And the body, they give you the yidi, the inherited body, is sacred in that sense. You don't just damage it lightly. Especially not just to, what, get a promotion? Precisely. To do so, the emperor argues, causes your parents' spirits, their wandering souls, to be restless in their graves. Wow. So he's taking Wang Yi's act, which Wang Yi probably saw as political, maybe career-driven. And reframing it as a spiritual crime, a violation against his own ancestors. He's essentially saying, your duty to your parents outweighs your duty to me, your emperor, in this specific physical way. Which is kind of a stunning thing for an emperor, especially one like Yang, to say. But think about the political angle, too. What do you mean? By championing filial piety, this ultimate classical virtue, Emperor Yang is projecting an image. He's not just a tyrant. He's wise. He's benevolent. He understands the real foundations of society and morality. It elevates him. So it's a power move disguised as a moral lesson. It's both. He's genuinely saving Wang Yi from a terrible mistake, and he's reinforcing his own legitimacy by upholding tradition. Which makes his final judgment really land with weight. Oh, absolutely. He looks at Wang Yi and says, this thing you tried to do, this self-harm, is not loyalty. It is rebellion. Rebellion, that's the strongest possible condemnation. You're going against the entire cosmic and social order. Exactly. And Wang Yi just breaks down. He's overwhelmed. Probably relief mixed with shame, gratitude. He just weeps and thanks the emperor for saving him from his own stupidity. Okay. Heavy stuff. Moral crisis averted. But there's still that original problem. Right. The girl who speaks the weird dialect. Business still needs doing. So the emperor, having delivered this profound lecture, just pivots back. Snaps right back to it. Tells Wang Yi, okay, do your job now. Wang Yi, now sobered up by the terror and relief, goes over to the palace girl. And finally talks to her. Yes. Face to face. And the source has this lovely description that their conversation sounds like a parrot or a thrush, warbling pleasantly. A nice image after all that tension. Totally. It delights the empress, the court, everyone's relieved. The problem is solved. So what's her story? What does Wang Yi report back? He gets the details. Her name is Mrs. Jiang. Small name, Ting Ting. She's 18. From Wuzhou, Shexian County specifically. And her circumstances. Why is she here? This is key. She's an orphan. And her wicked brother Jian Wan was trying to marry her off for cash. Sell her, basically. Pretty much. To some guy named Qian Nu. Qian Nu. Money ox. Seriously. You can imagine the kind of future she was looking at. Yeah. So she took matters into her own hands. She did. The source says she's Yuzi Nuzi. A girl with ambition or spirit. She voluntarily went to the local officials and asked to be included in the palace selection Zizu Yuangan Ruisuang. Choosing service in the palace over being sold off by her brother. That took guts. Definitely. And the emperor hears this story. And connects it maybe to Wang Yi's earlier misguided ambition. Perhaps. Or maybe he's just impressed by her initiative, her character. He sees someone who chose a path, albeit a subservient one, to escape a worse fate. And he makes another snap decision. The second big decision of the day. And it's a stunner. He looks at Wang Yi and says, I grant this girl to you as your wife. What? To establish a pair of virtuous and bright spouses. Just like that. He's giving the girl he just met to the guy who almost castrated himself moments ago? Yep. It's the ultimate plot twist. Yeah. And think about it. It perfectly reinforces his earlier lecture. How so? He just told Wang Yi that the highest duty is to the family line, Bao Ben. And now, he's not just stopping Wang Yi from destroying his lineage. He's actively giving him the means to continue it. A wife. He's restoring the very thing Wang Yi tried to throw away. That's incredibly powerful. It really is. Wang Yi, of course, tries to demur. He's like, Your Majesty, I can't. She was chosen for you, for the palace. Still playing the loyal servant. But the emperor's having none of it. Not a bit. He just says, Zhen Yi Yu Zhu, my will is decided. End of discussion. Wow. Okay. Case closed. And then Emperor Xiao steps in with a practical touch. Always practical, the empress. She tells Wang Yi, Okay, fine. But teach her the Wu dialect, Wu Hua. So she stops speaking that bird sound, Yao Yin. And we can actually talk to her easily next time. Sensible advice. And then gifts. Oh, yeah. The emperor gives them gold and silk. The empress gives pearls. A full imperial wedding gift package. Do they just leave together? They leave. They get married. And the source says they lived in deep devotion. Forever grateful for this completely unexpected turn of events. This act of imperial grace.