Chapter Thirty-One: The Banquet at Hongmen (Part Two)

Dong Zhuo’s cruelty was infamous throughout the land. He preyed upon the officials, imposed harsh levies, and cared nothing for the lives of others—a true fiend in every sense. The reason he took an interest in Zifan was that arrow that had shaken the world, and in the brief meeting of their eyes, he sensed that Zifan was cut from the same cloth: both bore a heavy burden, and deep in their hearts, both concealed a glimmer of ambition. The difference lay only in that Zifan kept his ambitions deeply hidden, while Dong Zhuo, now unrestrained, let his desires soar; anyone who dared defy his destiny would be ruthlessly swept aside.

If I cannot have him, then I shall destroy him.

Wine flowed for three rounds, the dishes passed in all their flavors, and the true drama was about to unfold. This was, after all, the real reason Dong Zhuo had called a grand banquet for the ministers of the court: to reshuffle the ranks, to redistribute power, and to decide how the balance of authority would shift among the ministers.

“I have a matter to put forth—gentlemen, hear me.” The Son of Heaven is the ruler of all the people; without majesty, he cannot serve the ancestral temples or safeguard the state. The present emperor is weak and unfit, not nearly so clever and studious as the King of Chenliu, who alone is worthy of the throne. I propose we depose the emperor and install the King of Chenliu. What do you, my lords, think?” A glint of coldness flashed in Dong Zhuo’s eyes, and in that instant, an overwhelming aura of murderous intent and despair, as deep as the abyss, radiated from him.

Though Dong Zhuo was smiling, his dark gaze was frigid. One glance could paralyze a man, as though casting him into a bottomless chasm. At first, the assembly gasped in collective shock, some so stunned their jaws nearly dropped. How could anyone utter such blasphemy against the majesty of heaven? That was enough to cost a man his head. While everyone knew Dong Zhuo was famed for his boldness and cruelty, none had imagined that the new emperor would be deposed so soon after ascending the throne, an act so outrageous and inhumane.

The ministers began murmuring and whispering among themselves, probing and searching for answers. The hall buzzed with a ceaseless clamor, yet no one dared stand out, for imperial power was inviolable.

The emperor’s power was supreme, above all others, and not to be challenged. To trespass against the emperor’s authority was to invite catastrophe; history had shown that those who crossed the line suffered, and often their families were destroyed as well. Imperial power was maintained by the intricate balance of interests among various groups and individuals. From ancient times to the present, none had dared show such contempt for the throne. That the emperor was akin to heaven itself was a truth engraved on every mind. In short, imperial authority was sacred, and all must bow before it unconditionally. Even if the emperor were a fool, loyalty to him was absolute.

Even Huo Guang, in his day, was an imperial relative—brother of Huo Qubing, maternal grandfather to Emperor Zhao’s empress, father to Emperor Xuan’s empress. He was, in every sense, half a member of the imperial clan. The greatest thing he did during his regency was to depose and enthrone emperors: he set up Liu He, then deposed him for his incompetence, and installed Liu Xun, ushering in the era of Emperor Xuan. But that, too, was family business, and Huo Guang’s background was impeccable, as a leading statesman. But you, Dong Zhuo—merely an external commander—what right have you to speak of deposing the emperor?

You lack even that much standing.

Moreover, Dong Zhuo was now openly discussing the emperor’s removal, showing utter disregard for imperial authority—a grave insult to the throne.

The ministers argued fiercely at the banquet; some of the elder statesmen cursed openly, and voices of opposition were countless. All their protest could be summed in a single sentiment: we will not consent to the emperor’s deposition.

“Silence!” Dong Zhuo’s voice was cold as he gazed down at the crowd, a chill in his eyes that could freeze a man on the spot. A palpable murderous intent emanated from him, and as he raised his hands, squads of armored Xiliang soldiers, blades drawn, stood to attention on either side of the hall. Instantly, the room was still; no one dared utter a word.

Suddenly, a man slammed his desk aside and strode forward before the banquet, shouting, “No! Absolutely not! And who do you think you are, daring to discuss the Son of Heaven here? Tired of living, are you? The emperor is the late sovereign’s legitimate son and has committed no wrong; who are you to talk of deposing him? You harbor treasonous intent and deserve death.”

Dong Zhuo’s fury flared, and he fixed his gaze on this bold challenger, eager to see who dared such defiance. It was none other than Lord Dingyuan, Ding Yuan himself, a notorious hothead who now drew his sword and pointed it at Dong Zhuo.

“Hmph! Such outrageous treason—if you do not desist, you’ll have to cross my corpse first,” Ding Yuan declared, sword in hand, the very image of utter devotion unto death.

Dong Zhuo, now thoroughly enraged—though he knew Ding Yuan, too, had brought troops to court—feared him not. With a crash, he hurled his wine cup to the floor, drew his treasured sword, and roared, “Those who follow me shall rule, those who oppose me shall die!” Should anyone else dare insolence this day, let them prepare a coffin. As Dong Zhuo’s blade flashed, another detachment of executioners emerged on either side of the hall, clad in black armor, towering men brandishing gleaming steel blades, sealing off all escape and hemming in the ministers. Off to the side, Minister of Works Wang Xu pleaded frantically, “No, you mustn’t! These are the pillars of the court—if you slaughter them, the realm will fall into chaos!”

At that moment, a figure stepped forward from behind Dong Zhuo, clad in familiar white robes. The man had not yet arrived, but his voice rang out: “When the late emperor lived, he favored the King of Chenliu above all. It was the He siblings who monopolized the court and used force to install the young emperor on the throne—if there was treason, it was theirs. Now Lord Dong merely upholds justice, fulfilling the late emperor’s will by restoring the King of Chenliu. What fault can there be in this, my lords?”

At this, the ministers fell silent, speechless, glancing at one another. Though it went against the late emperor’s last wishes, there had been no better option; the young emperor had already sat the throne for some time, and peace was gradually returning. To depose him now would be unprecedented. Powerless, the ministers bowed their heads.

“Who dares speak of deposing the emperor so brazenly?”

It was Princess Taiping, clad in a simple blue court dress with only a few strands of tassel for embellishment, her face lightly powdered, expression indifferent. The cool grace she radiated chilled the heart, her beauty like a moonlit night: “The stillness of the night, the gentle glow, the cold moonlight flooding the world.” From afar, she seemed ethereal, otherworldly, as if a goddess had descended.

Hearing news of Dong Zhuo’s grand banquet, Princess Taiping knew something significant was afoot. Upon learning he was discussing the emperor’s deposition, she had hurried over. Though her manner seemed calm, within she was deeply anxious—for her two younger brothers were still children, and only she could stand forth. Who said a woman was inferior to a man? With a sharp gaze, Princess Taiping swept the hall; wherever her eyes landed, even the mightiest ministers and imperial kin lowered their heads in silence, awed into submission by her quiet authority—a silent declaration that she alone was sovereign.

Upon the dais, Dong Zhuo himself was startled. If only Princess Taiping were a man, she would surely be a decisive and enlightened ruler, able to quell the chaos of the Han. What a pity… what a pity…

As for Zifan, he hid in a corner, quietly eating and drinking, observing the scene unfold with perfect clarity—though even he had not expected Princess Taiping to appear.