Chapter 13: Releasing Life

There are established rules within the palace, and to commit an offense in the presence of the Crown Prince is considered an even graver crime.

Yao Shuang suggested administering sixty lashes and expelling the offender from the palace. Gao Yin nodded in agreement. The man was dragged aside and whipped until blood flowed from his lower body before being removed from the scene.

This action shocked many palace attendants, including the female official Pu Heyuan, who was meeting the Crown Prince for the first time and was unsure if his temper was always so severe.

By custom, even when punishing palace servants, they were first detained and dealt with privately. Public punishments like this were rare, especially from a Crown Prince known for his leniency and gentleness.

Pu Heyuan felt uneasy, wondering if the Crown Prince was merely trying to assert his authority.

“It’s none of your concern. Don’t overthink it,” Gao Yin said coldly. “In the past, leniency led to indulgence. Now it’s time for reform. The Han dynasty has its own system. We cannot rely solely on benevolence and moral teachings as in the Zhou dynasty.”

These were the words of Emperor Xuan of Han. When advised to rely more on Confucian scholars, he asserted that the Han dynasty combined the way of the king with the way of the tyrant and could not be governed purely by rites and morality like the Zhou.

This statement subtly criticized the nearby Yuwen Zhou Kingdom and was sure to reach the ears of Gao Yang and others. Gao Yin was making his stance clear: he would govern according to Han principles but not solely through Confucianism; he would combine royal benevolence with tyrannical rule, signaling to Gao Yang what to expect.

Since tyrannical power was involved, it required strength—this was also a signal that Gao Yin intended to control the military. If he overstepped, it would be in the manner of ancient lords leading allied states to suppress rebellions, serving to protect the sovereign with no ulterior motives.

Sensing the resoluteness in Gao Yin’s words, Pu Heyuan’s heart stirred.

After receiving gifts, Gao Yin selected a few to reward Pu Heyuan, who dared not raise her head, bowing respectfully.

Several younger brothers followed their mother away, while Gao Yin returned with his attendants to the Eastern Palace. Before distributing rewards, a eunuch approached—it was Gao Yang’s attendant. “His Majesty commands the Crown Prince to come quickly to the Golden Phoenix Platform.”

Since it was an urgent imperial order, Gao Yin hurriedly changed clothes and, accompanied by Kang Huer and Yao Shuang, headed to the Golden Phoenix Platform.

On the way, Gao Yin asked the eunuch what was happening. The attendant forced a smile and replied, “You will see soon enough.” Gao Yin immediately understood.

Upon entering the Golden Phoenix Platform, a strong stench of blood assaulted their nostrils.

Everyone covered their mouths and noses, sharing the terror that those already there had felt:

Gao Yang sat atop a high platform, eyes closed, his expression solemn as if contemplating the great Way;

Two monks circled him while a group of others chanted prayers for his blessing;

Before them stood another high platform filled with hundreds of prisoners clad in prison garb, trembling in fear.

These prisoners were bound with rough bamboo mats. Guards shouted and prodded them, ordering each to leap from the platform, arms spread wide, waving their mats as wings, attempting to ‘fly’ like giant birds.

Of course, none could actually fly; each only hoped to survive. But the platform was too high to bear such hopes. One by one, they fell, the sounds of breaking bones, splattering blood, and agonized screams filling the air. At each cry, Gao Yang, eyes closed, could not help but let out a faint chuckle, upon which the monks would pause and softly say:

“Your Majesty.”

Gao Yang would then compose himself, restoring his dignified solemnity.

If he opened his eyes, he would see dozens of twisted corpses piled below. The bamboo mats, though unable to serve as wings, somewhat wrapped their bodies. Yet the blood soaked the ground, impossible to conceal.

In the past, Gao Yang called this cruel spectacle “release of life” and had entertained himself with it many times.

Today, believing his merits sufficient, he summoned the monks to accept Buddhist precepts, demonstrating that he had attained the Dharma.

“The Crown Prince has arrived!”

The herald’s announcement gave Gao Yang reason to open his eyes. He glanced at the pile of corpses, greedily inhaled, then rose to welcome Gao Yin onto the platform beside him.

The monks refrained from interrupting this reunion, silently retreating behind.

Gao Yang pointed at the falling prisoners and asked Gao Yin, “What say you? Does your father’s method of punishment rival that of Zhou governance? Is it tyrannical enough?”

He mischievously patted Gao Yin’s back, and as the Crown Prince leaned forward, he quickly grabbed his collar to see his startled expression.

Previously, this tactic worked well, but now Gao Yin’s face was impassive, indifferent to the screams below, even appearing bored.

Gao Yang found his son puzzling.

“The virtue of the sovereign is a model for future generations. If the late emperor believes it worthy of emulation by all, then allow me to bring Shao De and the others to listen to the teachings of the tyrant.”

Gao Yin spoke calmly, impressing Gao Yang but also causing slight displeasure. “These are criminals. Having committed crimes, they must be punished. Rewards and punishments are mine to dispense—who would dare defy me?”

Gao Yin remained silent, contemplative. Gao Yang, satisfied, raised his wine cup and gestured for Gao Yin to drink with him.

The wine of this era was not strong, mostly grain, plant, or fruit wines, but in sufficient quantity, they could intoxicate.

The attendant poured Gao Yin a cup of amber-colored rice wine, which could inebriate twenty men per container. Even a heavy drinker like Gao Yang would be drunk for days after three liters.

Giving such wine to a thirteen-year-old was particularly cruel.

Gao Yin reluctantly drained the cup. The liquid ignited a fierce heat down his throat, causing him to cough violently. Gao Yang laughed heartily and ordered more wine poured.

Gao Yin paused, letting the aroma fill his mouth and his tongue adjust to the sting, then sipped slowly. This time it was more bearable. He used the juice of fruits on the table to wash away the lingering bitterness.

After the third cup, his face flushed red, and he waved his hand. “Enough. More will only bring drunkenness.”

Gao Yang did not press further, ordering the attendant to remove the tray and poured wine for himself.

“The Empress Dowager’s gifts were generous, I presume?”

“Yes, though some servants became more brazen.”

“Filthy lackeys!” Gao Yang chuckled, “Why not kill them?”

“They have some wealth and have not betrayed their lord. Killing them would be excessive.” Gao Yin loosened his collar. After drinking, he felt uncomfortable. “Only appropriate punishments ensure the servants’ peace of mind.”

Gao Yang was fully aware of the recent events; Gao Yin was no exception. As emperor, even a reckless one, without this power, he would not have survived.

Gao Yin’s subtle sarcasm no longer bothered Gao Yang.

He ordered the guards to halt the “release of life.” The prisoners stood atop the platform, sweating, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

“Your novel—the one about the Three Kingdoms—quite good. Will you continue writing it?”

Though unaware of the novel’s ending, Gao Yang knew it was based on the late Han historical period, ending with the Sima family usurping Wei, as Wei rose in Hebei. Politically, this favored their Qi Kingdom’s claim to the Mandate of Heaven.

Gao Yang was not a palace-born emperor but a warrior-king who understood clearly that tales like warming wine to slay Hua Xiong or the three heroes battling Lu Bu were thrilling stories that would captivate the people and gain wide popularity. At least the common folk were drawn to such legends.

Liu Bei, portrayed positively as the protagonist, bore a resemblance to Gao Huan and Gao Yang in image; more importantly, he was a member of the Han royal family. Liu Bei indeed founded Shu Han. Any discussion of such tales would kindle admiration and remembrance of the Han, drawing more Han people and slightly suppressing the Xianbei influence within Qi.

“Of course, I intend to write at least up to the Sima usurpation of Wei.”

The Crown Prince of Qi hoped his book would clarify to the Han within the realm that their Qi kingdom did not oppose Han ascendancy.

Gao Yin understood this more deeply than Gao Yang.

Later generations viewed Yuwen Tai as having relied on Han men such as Su Chuo and Lu Bian to imitate the Zhou Rites in creating a new official system, and saw Northern Qi’s downfall as a result of conflict between Han and Xianbei, making Northern Zhou more sinicized than Northern Qi.

But the truth was the opposite: Northern Qi was actually more sinicized than Northern Zhou.

First, whether Zhou or Qi, their essence was “Xianbeification,” the basis of their rule. Without preserving this essence, neither the Yuwen nor Gao families would retain their feudal privileges. This was a legacy of the former Wei and independent of whether they were Xianbei or Han.

Especially the Gao faction: Gao Huan’s power base was the Six Garrisons Xianbei, who had been marginalized by the former Wei court and hated the sinicized Luoyang regime, launching a full-scale Xianbei revival. This might suggest that Eastern Wei and Northern Qi—built by the Six Garrisons Xianbei—opposed sinicization.

However, practical interests outweighed ethnicity. From Eastern Wei to Northern Qi, there were no purely Han or Xianbei factions; all forces underwent constant realignment. For example, within the Gao Yin-led Han faction was King Pingqin Gao Guiyan, who sided with Gao Yan’s camp; and Gao Yan’s side always had Wang Xi, a Han and descendant of Former Qin Chancellor Wang Meng, as a trusted advisor.

In Northern Qi’s 28-year reign, seventy men served as prime ministers. Fifty-eight were Han, sinicized Hu, or Hu sinicized Han; only twelve were either not sinicized or unknown. Thus, Northern Qi was mainly controlled by Han and sinicized Hu, especially the Gao royal family who, though identifying as Xianbei, relied on Han and valued Han culture.

Gao Wei, Northern Qi’s last powerful emperor, ruled in the dynasty’s final years, considered a period of “failed sinicization.” Yet, five years before Northern Qi’s fall, Gao Wei established the Wenlin Academy, recruiting scholars with Han literary talent, with Yan Zhitui—a Han from the Southern Liang who had been captured and defected to Northern Qi—appointed head.

If one claimed the Wenlin Academy’s founding was a whim of Gao Wei, then it was also driven by Prime Minister Zu Ting, himself a Han.

Moreover, early in Gao Yang’s reign, he ordered counties and states to build schools, widely inviting talented scholars to promote Confucianism. He continuously suppressed Xianbei nobles and empowered Han clans to participate in high-level power struggles, a clear sign of sinicization.

Northern Qi’s core domain in the lower Yellow River basin—Shandong and Henan—guaranteed a high degree of sinicization. These regions, economically and culturally, far outpaced Guanzhong. Northern Qi boasted more scholars, higher academic standards, more writings, and more Han officials in central decision-making than Northern Zhou.

Both Northern Zhou and Northern Qi inevitably sinicized, as the Central Plains were predominantly Han. The Xianbei, outnumbered, had to rely on Han to establish their rule, adapting by incorporating Han thought and compromising with Han to consolidate power.

Northern Qi’s intense internal power struggles were later misinterpreted as ethnic conflict, leading to the false notion of strong anti-Han sinicization sentiment.

Northern Qi’s opposition mainly came from the Xianbei military elite based in Jinyang, who did not reject Han culture per se—just as Han culture accepted Hu stools, Hu music, and Hu clothing. Culture naturally blends and evolves. Their real opposition was to Han political power.

Take Lou Zhaojun, who claimed, “How can I and my son be scrutinized by an old Han woman?” Her goal was to remain Empress Dowager and control the court, unrelated to ethnicity. Even Han or Xianbei identity of Li Zue or Gao Yin did not protect them from her downfall.

Gao Yang’s adoption of Hu clothing and self-identification as Xianbei were futile attempts to resist sinicization. The Xianbei could only delay cultural fusion by killing Han.

Northern Zhou’s situation was different. Yuwen Tai never intended for Han to wield power. In Western Wei, the highest offices were held by the Eight Pillars and Twelve Generals, among whom only three—Li Hu, Li Bi, Zhao Gui—were sinicized Han playing the power game. Zhao Gui was soon executed after Northern Zhou’s founding, implicating Dugu Xin. Subsequent rulers were mostly Yuwen clan members, many rejecting Han culture.

Yuwen Tai even sought to erase Han surnames. The Xianbei tribes had thirty-six great clans and ninety-nine smaller clans. Yuwen Tai assigned powerful Western Wei officials to take the surnames of the thirty-six clans and lesser officials those of the ninety-nine clans, with their soldiers adopting their generals’ Xianbei surnames. Over time, they naturally became Xianbei.

Hence the jokes about “Pu Liuru Guang” or “Da Ye Shimin.” Li Shimin, born seventeen years earlier, was indeed named Da Ye Shimin. Had Northern Zhou not been overthrown by Yang Jian, and the Yuwen clan unified the realm, after a century, Han people would have become Xianbei.

Thus, in this era’s eyes, while the Gao family identified as Xianbei, they were based in Hebei and east of the pass, holding the most orthodox Han foundation except for the Southern Dynasties. The Yuwen family’s reform of the Six Officials, though modeled on Zhou Rites, was actually a disguised adaptation more suited to Xianbei physiology.

Even looking at the royal families—the Gao clan of Bohai versus the Yuwen clan of Wuchuan Xianbei—their Han affiliation was clear.

Therefore, Gao Yin’s work, the “Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” was a signal: although Xianbei customs flourish in great Qi now, a new wave favoring Han scholars is rising from the Eastern Palace. Supporting the Crown Prince means supporting the revival of the Han dynasty. All the disgruntled Han can look forward to the Crown Prince!