Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Banquet at Hongmen

During the chaos of the Yellow Turban Rebellion, Nanyang was one of the regions hit hardest. The three main theaters of that conflict were Jizhou, Yuzhou, and Jingzhou, with the principal battleground in Jingzhou being Nanyang itself.

The Han imperial court responded by sending Lu Zhi, leading the elite of the Northern Army’s Five Schools, to Jizhou to face the core Yellow Turban forces. They dispatched Huangfu Song to Yingchuan to engage the Yuzhou Yellow Turbans, and Zhu Jun was sent to Nanyang. In the campaign to pacify the Nanyang Yellow Turbans, Sun Jian distinguished himself during the siege of Wan City, leading the assault up the walls and breaking through, which earned him a recommendation from Zhu Jun as a subordinate commander and marked the beginning of his rise.

After the rebellion, the Yellow Turban forces fractured due to the death of Zhang Jiao. The Jizhou Yellow Turbans, having been defeated by Huangfu Song, mostly fled to the Taihang Mountains or to Qingzhou. The Yuzhou Yellow Turbans escaped to the Funiu Mountains, the southwestern part of Yingchuan Commandery, which would later become Lushan and Nanzhao counties. Similarly, the remnants of the Nanyang Yellow Turbans retreated deep into the mountains and forests, finding refuge in the Funiu and Dabie ranges.

It wasn’t until the chaos of Dong Zhuo’s usurpation, when all the regional warlords turned their attention to fighting him and no longer cared for these bandits, that the Yellow Turban remnants began to emerge from the mountains, raiding the northwest of Jizhou, Runan in Yuzhou, and the Nanyang basin.

This time, Zhang Xiu’s wide-reaching call for heroes was not chiefly aimed at He Yi, He Man, Huang Shao, Liu Pi, Gong Du, and the like, but rather at the hundreds of thousands of Yellow Turban remnants scattered around the Nanyang basin. He Yi and the others were merely incidental targets.

On the twenty-first day of the second month, in Wan City, a great number of Yellow Turban leaders had gathered in response to Zhang Xiu’s summons. It was mid-spring, the weather warm and flowers blooming, with dazzling sunlight. Horses and carriages streamed ceaselessly through the city and countryside, surging toward the Prefect’s residence.

Unlike He Yi and his companions, who had been forced to bring their entire following to Nanyang, the other Yellow Turban chiefs of Nanyang came alone, merely to investigate the situation; some didn’t come themselves at all, sending only trusted men to gather intelligence.

He Yi and He Man, however, had been driven by Cao Cao to bring their entire households and followers to Nanyang. The other local chiefs, still hidden in the remote mountains and forests, were too cautious to risk a mass exodus. Thus, though the city and its outskirts appeared lively, the crowds were almost entirely comprised of the followers from Yingchuan and Runan—men, women, and children numbering over a hundred thousand, with perhaps twenty or thirty thousand soldiers among them, all camped outside the city.

Northeast of Wan City was a village called Xiyang Qu, the site of a famous battle between the rebel general Deng Feng and Jia Fu, one of the Twenty-Eight Generals of Yuntai, during the founding of the Eastern Han. After the Yellow Turban uprising in Nanyang, this village was left desolate. Zhang Xiu ordered He Yi, He Man, and the others to settle their followers here for the time being, living off their own provisions until he could reallocate territory.

Upon learning that none of the other Yellow Turban chiefs had brought their men, He Yi, He Man, Huang Shao, and the rest felt assured of their advantage; even if they couldn’t carve out their own domain, with their strength, they were confident Zhang Xiu would at least assign them one or two county seats. Thus, each followed Zhang Xiu’s arrangements, quartering their troops outside the walls and entering the city with only a handful of personal guards for the assembly.

After noon, as the appointed date arrived, most of the regional Yellow Turban leaders showed up, even those who led mere hundreds in remote mountain strongholds, all eager for a share of spoils—a veritable grand gathering.

In the prefectural hall, Zhang Xiu sat at the head, with Deng Hong and Hu Che’er beside him. The other Yellow Turban leaders were seated by the size of their forces, with He Yi, He Man, Huang Shao, Liu Pi, and Gong Du at the forefront. Zhang Xiu glanced about, noting the ranks of attendants and the thirty or so Yellow Turban leaders present—a number whittled down by selection, for if every petty chieftain with a few hundred men were included, the crowd would swell into the hundreds.

These men, aside from He Yi, He Man, and their companions, mostly knew each other. Even among the Yingchuan and Runan leaders, though some had never met, their names were familiar. In earlier years, the Yuzhou Yellow Turbans were led by Bocai, the Nanyang branch by Zhang Mancheng; with Yingchuan and Nanyang so close, they had often aided each other.

Once inside, the leaders exchanged greetings, though rivalries simmered beneath the surface—competition for scarce resources in the mountains inevitably bred conflict and annexation, even among the Yellow Turbans. Still, with everyone now on Zhang Xiu’s turf, no one dared stir trouble under his nose; old grudges were set aside, at least for now, with the worst being silent mutual disregard.

When all were seated according to rank, Zhang Xiu spoke unhurriedly, “Since you have all exchanged greetings, and most of you know one another, perhaps those I do not know could each introduce themselves?”

Huang Shao, possessing the largest force—over thirty thousand followers and more than six thousand soldiers—sat at Zhang Xiu’s right hand. At Zhang Xiu’s cue, he rose and said, “General Zhang, well met. I am Huang Shao.”

“Liu Pi.”

“He Man.”

“He Yi.”

“Gong Du.”

“Wang Qi.”

“Zhao Hai.”

“Lü Zhen.”

“Xia Hao.”

And so on. Each Yellow Turban chief introduced himself, some commanding formidable followings, others much smaller—thirty-four groups in all, with a combined force of about fifty or sixty thousand soldiers and a population of three to four hundred thousand. Though this paled in comparison to the million-strong Black Mountain and Qingzhou Yellow Turbans, it was still impressive, given the devastation suffered by the Nanyang and Yuzhou branches. In a few more years, with further raids by Cao Cao, their numbers would dwindle even further.

Zhang Xiu took note of each, and when the last had finished, he continued, “You have all come at my invitation, and you know my situation: I have defeated Liu Biao and now hold Nanyang, but I have neither clan roots here nor the support of the great families, and my position is precarious. That is why I have called you, so that we may share Nanyang together. What do you all think?”

“Quite so,” one replied. “We are all from Nanyang, with our own clans and roots here. It was only due to the court's persecution these past years that we fled into the mountains. Now, with your arrival, General, and our support, you will flourish like a fish in water. We can finally return home, and you can secure your hold on Nanyang.”

“Exactly. Nanyang is the land where Emperor Guangwu rose to power, rich and populous, once boasting over half a million households, the wealthiest in Jingzhou. Whoever holds Nanyang can move south to seize Jingzhou. I am glad to see you here, General—together, we can drive out Liu Biao.”

“I agree.”

“As do I. At last, we can leave our mountain hiding.”

Before He Yi, He Man, and the other Yingchuan and Runan leaders could speak, most of the Nanyang chiefs had already voiced support for Zhang Xiu’s proposal. Some, having read a little, even quoted the saying “like a fish in water.” Though many believe this phrase originated with Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang, it was actually an old Han proverb, written by Li Si in the Qin and often repeated by Han people.

Their widespread agreement stemmed from the weakness of the Nanyang Yellow Turbans. Though entrenched in the Funiu and Dabie mountains, they had been hounded by Liu Biao’s forces, forced to raid only the occasional village and never daring to appear openly in the basin. Now that Zhang Xiu had defeated Liu Biao, they could emerge from the mountains at last, like demons returning from hell, and naturally raised both hands in approval.

More importantly, their own strength was meager—some had only two or three thousand troops, others just a few hundred or even dozens. Aligning with Zhang Xiu was hardly a surrender; it was certainly preferable to eking out a life in the wilds.

Seeing that all but a few of the more powerful leaders had agreed, Zhang Xiu laughed, “Since you are all willing to leave the mountains, excellent! But as the saying goes, a host of dragons cannot go without a head. I believe we should choose one among us to be the leader. What do you think?”

Most faces remained unchanged, but a few—He Yi, He Man, and the like—showed a flicker of unease. Liu Pi forced a smile and said, “General Zhang, when you invited us, you spoke of shared rule over Nanyang. Why now do you speak of electing a single leader?”

Zhang Xiu replied with displeasure, “Leader Liu, I conquered Nanyang, but Liu Biao could counterattack at any moment. Though I have invited you to help guard it, do you truly wish to be driven back into the mountains like hunted rats?”

“Of course not,” someone said.

Zhang Xiu spread his hands. “Then there it is. You are all Yellow Turban veterans. The rebellion failed before because command was fragmented. I do not wish to annex your forces; but to resist Liu Biao, we must have unified command. Without it, he will defeat us piecemeal and we will all end up back in hiding.”

“General speaks wisely. I nominate him as our leader,” an astute chief immediately said.

“I agree.”

“I second it.”

“No objection here.”

A dozen Nanyang leaders quickly voiced their support. He Yi, He Man, and their companions looked none too pleased. In their eyes, the Nanyang Yellow Turbans were ruined men—together, not even as strong as any one of their own groups, each with only a few hundred or a thousand followers. Submitting to Zhang Xiu might win them an official post, but what of themselves? Each had thousands of men—though, in truth, only a few thousand were soldiers, but Zhang Xiu had only seven or eight thousand. Together, they had twenty or thirty thousand—why should they take orders from him? They much preferred to claim a county or two for themselves than serve under Zhang Xiu’s command.

For a moment, all eyes turned to Gong Du—had it not been for his persuasion, would they have left one trap for another?

“Hahahahaha.” Zhang Xiu laughed. “Since you all favor me, I will not refuse. It is not that I covet power, but as I said, without unified command, how can we defeat Liu Biao? So long as we unite and fight him, once we take Jingzhou, I will recommend you all for official posts at court.”

“That won’t be necessary,” He Man, the most hot-tempered, interjected coldly. “I have not agreed to make you our leader.”

“Nor have I,” He Yi, for once, sided with He Man.

Liu Pi and Huang Shao exchanged a look and stood up as well. “General Zhang, you promised shared rule of Nanyang, but now seem intent on absorbing us. Forgive us, but we cannot comply.”

Only Gong Du, whose strength was weakest—fewer than ten thousand followers, with perhaps a thousand or two soldiers—seemed seriously to consider joining Zhang Xiu.

“You had better think this through,” Zhang Xiu said with a cold smile, knowing from his messengers’ reports that Cao Cao had driven them to the brink. “You were chased here by Cao Cao. If you refuse to cooperate, you make yourselves my enemies and the enemies of these Nanyang chiefs. Either return to Runan and fight Cao Cao to the death, or stay here—and don’t expect to leave.”

“Are you threatening us, General?” He Man roared in anger.

“It’s not a threat—just a fact,” Zhang Xiu replied icily. “My uncle gave his life for Nanyang. Why would I hand it over to you? If you wish to be independent, leave Nanyang. You are not welcome here.”

Leave Nanyang?

The group exchanged glances, each seeing murderous intent in the others’ eyes. A joke! If they couldn’t defeat Cao Cao’s forty or fifty thousand troops, could they not deal with Zhang Xiu’s fewer than ten thousand?

Liu Pi cupped his hands. “In that case, we take our leave. We will return to Runan. Farewell, General Zhang.”

“Go, then. I won’t see you off,” Zhang Xiu replied coolly.

He Yi, He Man, and the others turned and left.

When they were gone, a Nanyang chief said, “General, why let them go? Their troops are camped outside—what if they suddenly revolt and attack the city? Better to strike first and absorb their men.”

“Yes, General, those Yuzhou Yellow Turbans have always looked down on us. Now that you control Nanyang, blessed by heaven and favored by the people, why let them bind your hands?”

“Just give the order, General. We’ll ride out at once and capture them.”

The Nanyang chiefs were quick to display their loyalty, eager to serve Zhang Xiu; having been beaten by Liu Biao before, they knew his power. Now that Zhang Xiu had bested Liu Biao, he was clearly the more ruthless wolf—better to follow him than risk further hardship.

But Zhang Xiu only sneered. “No matter. I have a plan. Do not be afraid. My Xiliang army is unbeaten in the field and fears no one. Since you are willing to serve me, return to your camps, tally your followers, and bring them down from the mountains so I can settle them properly.”

“Very well, I shall return at once.”

“General Zhang, await our good news.”

“Let’s go, let’s go.”

The Nanyang chiefs agreed, preparing to return to the mountains and make arrangements. They had long grown weary of hiding; with little strength to begin with and constant bullying, now that a tough new boss had arrived to protect them, they accepted eagerly.

Meanwhile, as the Nanyang chiefs made ready to submit, He Yi, He Man, and their companions rode from the city toward Xiyang Qu. Over a hundred warhorses thundered down the road, and only after leaving the city did they relax and begin to confer.

“What do you all think?” Liu Pi asked.

He Yi smiled meaningfully. “What do you think?”

“It seems we’re all of one mind,” Huang Shao grinned.

Only Gong Du hesitated. “I’ve heard the Xiliang army is formidable—perhaps not so easy to handle.”

“What’s to fear? He has only a few thousand men, while we have tens of thousands. Why should we be afraid?” He Man scoffed. “Besides, do any of you want to submit to him? I certainly don’t.”

“Then let’s do it,” Liu Pi said at last. “Rally the troops. March on Wan City!”

“Let’s go!”

They spurred their horses, eager to return.

Yet on a distant hill, Gan Ning and Shen Chen stood side by side. Farther off, Wen Pin and Zhang Yun waited with tens of thousands of troops. Did Liu Biao intend to let these Yellow Turbans truly run amok in Nanyang? In truth, he cared little about the bandits themselves—what concerned him was Zhang Xiu’s false surrender, his real aim being to absorb the Yellow Turbans and grow stronger.

Thus, every one of Zhang Xiu’s moves was closely watched, with Deng Hong at his side throughout. Even Zhang Xiu’s Xiliang troops remained confined within Wan City, while over thirty thousand of Liu Biao’s Jingzhou soldiers quietly encircled Xiyang Qu.

From the very beginning, this had been a feast of doom.