The History of China - #128 - 5D10K 5: The Exiled Emperor

Episode Date: September 11, 2017

Later Jin seems to have its bed made within its steadfast alliance with Liao - in spite of the humiliating stipulations such a relationship imposes onto a proud Son of Heaven. Yet when Later Jin's first emperor dies, his replacement will do his level-best to unmake all the gains his nation has made... at his own peril. Time Period Covered: 937-947 CE Major Historical Figures: Later Jin: Shi Jingtang (Emperor Gaozu of Later Jin) [r. 936-942 CE] Shi Chonggui (Emperor Chu of Later Jin) [r. 942-947 CE] Governor-General An Chongrong [d. 942] Chancellor Feng Dao [882-954 CE] General Jing Yanguang [892-947 CE] Liao: Yelü Deguang (Emperor Taizong of Liao) [r. 927-947 CE] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You're listening to an Airwave Media Podcast. TD Direct Investing offers live support. So whether you're a newbie or a seasoned pro, you can make your investing steps count. And if you're like me and think a TFSA stands for Total Fund Savings Adventure, maybe reach out to the History of China. Episode 128, The Exiled Emperor

Last time, we watched as the later Tang state literally went up in flames as the combined armies of Emperor Daguang of Liao and his adopted son and subordinate, Shijing Tang, the emperor of later Jin, closed in around it. Today, then, we'll chronicle the meteoric rise and fall of this would-be power over the Yellow River Valley. Even in victory, Shijing Tang would find himself placed in a rather precarious circumstance regarding his rule and legitimacy. This was in no small part owing to

his problematic relationship with the Liao dynasty of the north. How could he claim to be the sovereign of China, the son of heaven holding its mandate after all, when he had humbly pledged himself to a barbarian king from the north. It should be noted that such misgivings weren't tinged with the kind of racial overtones we might expect. That is to say, it wasn't that Emperor Daguang of Liao was ethnically non-Chinese. Indeed, Shi himself, the emperors of later Tang, and even of the Great Tang had all been of Turkic or partially Turkic origin. Instead, it was the fact that Shijingtang's entire claim to power had rested upon the aid of

an outside power. He wasn't emperor because he'd achieved a great victory for himself, but rather because he'd ridden on the coattails of the Liao all the way to the capital and then to the throne. How could anyone take his claims of legitimacy seriously? As such, often as not, Shen's envoys and embassies to other states to his south were often met with outright hostility, a huge contravention of the standard operating procedure of the era, which was to treat with rival regimes' envoys legitimately, even while you might covet their territories. Still more complaints were raised by the specific terms of Shi's submission to Zeguang,

especially by those governors of the area most keenly affected by the whole deal, the 16 provinces of the north that had, they were just now finding out, been gifted back to the Liao sovereign as part of the price of his aid to later Jin. The way they found this out was not with an official edict or warning, but rather just by Emperor Duguang himself riding in with his army and, you know, taking over now. He expected immediate submission from all of the local officials, and when an assistant of the bureaucracy of Yuzhou city barred the gate and denied Deguang entry, the Liao army put the city to siege. This would ultimately be resolved peacefully when Shijingtang recalled the offending official to his capital, asked Deguang's pardon

for the misunderstanding, and humbly asked that the Liao sovereign lift his siege of the city. Deguang assented, but it's pretty clear that from both sides, this situation in the 16 prefectures could have been handled with a bit more tact. Nevertheless, in spite of the shaky footing Liao's support and patronage had put him on, what was even more clear was the sizable advantage it also gave Shijingtang. Sure, let the governors guffaw and be slow in offering their submission to the new lord of the Yellow River. Whatever they might say, so long as he had the might of the Liao behind him, only an idiot would do anything overt against the regime.

Interstage left, an idiot, Fan Yanguang, the governor of Weibo. In 937, Fan got the bright idea to go over Xijtang's head entirely, and appealed directly to the Liao to intervene and overthrow Shi, and install him instead. To this, De Guang flatly refused, and then told Shi all about this little incident, and then asked Shi how he would like the Liao to respond to this wayward governor. Shi clearly understood the serious image problem he already had, and so asked the Liao emperor to just stay out of it, and let the later Jin deal with this rebellious governor itself.

This almost turned out to have been a huge mistake, since that summer Fan raised his banners in open rebellion, clinching the defection of one of the Jin's imperial generals at Luoyang, which, by the way, had just recently once again lost its status as capital city when Shi opted to move his court to the more defensible Kaifeng once again. Fan's rebel army was on approach to the walls of the new capital, prompting Shi to start thinking about his potential escape options, notably the idea to abandon the city for Taiyuan. In the end, though, what probably

saved Shi Jingtang's bacon was the unexpectedly loyal response from one of his generals, Yang Guangyuan, when his troops attempted to acclaim him emperor. General Yang rebuffed this attempted coup and maintained his loyalty to the later Jin emperor, allowing his force and that of the imperial guard to fight together against the rebels his force, and that of the Imperial Guard, to fight together against the rebels, and thus turn the tide of the war. By 937, all of the gains Governor Fan had made were more than reversed, and he was himself put under siege at his capital city, Weizhou. Fan would hold out for more than a year behind his city walls, and by 938, she had offered him the clemency of a pardon as well as a provincial governorship if he would lay down his arms and surrender.

Fan accepted, and along with it, the provision that he would be a provincial governor, yes, but the province's troops were to be integrated into the command of the Imperial Guard, rather than a command of his own. One can't be too careful, after all. Still, Shi Jingtang could afford to be lenient with Fan, in large part because such clemency netted him a great deal of the respect from his subordinates that he so desperately required. Not only had he won this rebellion, but he'd also done so under his own steam and without Liao intervention. Professor Standen puts it, That winter, as if to drive the point home, he is written to have begun wearing weapons to his court sessions. That's right, I'm a military guy, I got the sword and everything, so respect me, please. Shi did seem to understand well that

the only way he was going to keep the throne was if he had military dominance over anyone who might otherwise think to challenge him. He maintained this in two ways. The first was to further enlarge the ranks of his imperial guard corps, and then ensure the continuing loyalty of its officers with generous bestowments of honors and privileges, etc. etc. The second method, though, was to reduce the size of potential rival armies by dividing up several of the larger provinces within later Jin territory. The very first province on the list, of course, was the one that had so recently rebelled against him. That's right, Weibo. And we've got to give the guy all the credit he could possibly deserve in this, because impressively, he managed to do

to the region what none of his predecessors had been able to pull off, and succeeded in dividing the province into three pieces, leaving the capital city and its new governor with just one other prefecture at his command, thus neutering any realistic threat from the area. Even though control over the armies was crucial to Shi Jingtang's continued rule, he also understood, much like Li Siyuan had, that his behavior and public persona would have an important effect on his tenure as well. He must himself act in an exemplary fashion, a model emperor, while at the same time giving his governors a relatively long leash to preside over their respective fiefdoms. The product of these efforts was an

overall maintenance of civil order, while not imposing unduly on the privileges of the politically powerful, a potent combination to stave off potential attempts against him. The last and almost certainly most important decision Shi Jingtang made to retain his position was to know and never forget his true place in the grander scheme of things. He never forgot the one critical detail that took precedence before all other considerations, and it was that he owed his title and very continued existence to the tacit consent and support of Deguang of Liao, and whatever else, he must maintain that relationship at all costs. This was exhibited in 938, when he fired

an official who complained that his recent appointment as an envoy to Liao was not suitable to his rank or status. Later Jin envoys to Liao were under strict instructions to tolerate whatever haughty or arrogant treatment might be meted upon them from their northern hosts. Shi himself accepted the fact that he must address Deguang as his imperial father, a particularly embarrassing bit given that Shi was ten years Deguang's senior. Later, Jin also promised to pay Deguang routinely and in full. Although at least in this last bit, Xie proved that he wasn't quite the doormat to the Liao that many of his contemporaries thought him to be. In the Zizhi Tongjian, Sima Guang writes, quote,

Although the amount of the subsidy was no more than the taxes of a few counties, the later Jin often cited the hardships of the people as an excuse for not being able to fill the quota, end quote. You know, I'd love to pay what I owe you, but you know how it is. Times are tough. Pockets are empty. You understand, don't you, Dad? And apparently, it worked.

Not only did Deguang allow the lapse in full payments, but in time began insisting that Shijingtang drop the designation of subject of the Liao, and instead refer to himself as the far less demeaning imperial son of the Liao. Still, this ongoing relationship between the two monarchs was fraught with potential for disruption, especially from the still flabbergasted governors of the border provinces. By leaps and bounds, the most difficult of the governors to bring to heel was that of the Chenzhou prefecture, Governor An Chongzhong.

Governor An went so far as to declare outright, in his home city of course, that, quote, to be an emperor these days, you just need strong troops and vigorous horses, end quote. In another, more stable time, this would have immediately been fighting words big time. But Shi found that he couldn't act directly against him, and about the best he could manage was to transfer away a neighboring governor friendly to An's sentiments. But An was only getting started. The following year, he apparently treated with the Tuyuhun tribes and enticed a thousand households to submit to him personally and then settle on his lands. This time, Shi could not but react. No, really, Daddy Deguang told him that he must

drive the Tuyuhun out. And I say that rather disparagingly, but like any chastisement from a good father, Zeguang really was just looking out for the best interests of his imperial son, Shi Jingtang. Allowing An to build up a loyal contingent of stepwarriors was just begging for trouble that Shi couldn't afford and Zeguang didn't need the headache of dealing with. Even after this, An Chongzhong was ready to up his anti-Liao antics to a whole new level. Khitan envoys to Chenzhou found themselves treated rudely, at best,

and wound up murdered in their sleep if An was in a particularly bad mood. For all this, there was still precious little Shi Jingtang could do about it, other than to humbly excuse, to use Sima Guang's words, An's murderous actions whenever Duguang complained that yet another of his envoys had either gone missing or turned up dead. What's going on here? To many, especially Shi's contemporaries, this has appeared to be the lowliest set of actions a Chinese emperor could have possibly taken with the Liao sovereign. Seriously, Jingtang, you're just going to roll over? What, are you going to beg for a belly rub next?

Maybe a milk bone? But Stanton notes that, in fact, Shi was acting in a very shrewd manner, considering the realpolitik situation he faced. She says, quote, Although often taken to indicate later Jing's subservience to the Khitan barbarians, these events also show that Shijing, Tang, and Dagwang were both determined to maintain peaceful relations between their states.

Circumstances quite sufficient to provoke hostilities were negotiated away by these two allies, who deployed enormous patience and considerable creativity, end quote. Think of it, if you will, from Deguang's perspective. He keeps sending envoys, good, hardworking, honest tribeswomen of his, to this Jin governor, and he just keeps straight up murdering them. And then the Jin emperor has the gall to say, oh, please excuse the mess, you must understand, my man An just, you know, can't control himself sometimes, I'm so sorry. How long would that situation fly with you before you were just like, enough of this, and rolled in, invitation or no,

to deal with that murderous governor yourself, once and for all? I don't think it would take many of us that long at all, like a one-strike-you're-out kind of a thing. But Deguang clearly seemed to value his relationship with Shijing Tang and the actual autonomy of later Jin territory enough to let it ride. Okay, sure, whatever you say. I guess it can't be helped. I'll try another envoy to Governor McStabby in a few months, I guess. It was a situation that, of course, could not last. Governor or not, An was playing with matches inside of an oil drum.

One of these times, the match was going to catch. The match would catch alight in 941, when Governor An, apparently tired of just murdering individual envoys for the funsies, seized a group of them and then commenced with a raid over the Jin-Liao border into Yuzhou, and demanding war against Liao, and calling Shi, in so many words, a lily-livered sissy boy for not destroying the Liao barbarians already who were occupying the 16 prefectures. Once again, Shi Jingtang issued an apology for An's actions. But, I mean, seriously? You just let that happen? You expect me to believe that you didn't know about this or just couldn't stop it or something? Deguang was, well, let's just say he was rather skeptical of this little apology to her belatedly arriving from the south.

I mean, this was unmistakably a declaration of war, right? So, Emperor De Guang of Liao resolved to take the least possible action he possibly could get away with. He ordered the Later Jin envoys detained at his capital, while he went and tried to figure out just what the holy hell was going on down south. How's that for restraint? Much to what must have been his great relief, it swiftly became obvious that Shijingtong and those loyal to his regime were acting swiftly to contain and deal with this An situation. I know, right? Finally. Right away, the governor of Hadong was able to peel off much of An's pivotal support among the nomads by persuading the leaders of their elite cavalry force to defect to later Jin. A strike against Jin from the south by one of An Zhongzong's allies, and quite possibly family members, was anticipated by Shijingtang and

intercepted by a combined naval force of both the governor of Jingnan and the independent but allied kingdom of Qu in modern Hunan. With those who might have been his supporters now reading the writing on the walls and lining up behind Later Jin as the superior force, An Zhongzhong made his last desperate bid at open rebellion against Later Jin. I mean, it was now or never, wasn't it? And it would be never. Very shortly thereafter, one of An's own generals,

likely in order to secure a reasonable deal for himself and his men in the post-conflict settlement, betrayed and assassinated An Zhongzong, and then mailed his preserved head to Dagwang as proof that the deed had been done. Napoleon Bonaparte rose from obscurity to become the most powerful and significant figure in modern history. Over 200 years after his death, people are still debating his legacy. He was a man of contradictions, a tyrant and a reformer, a liberator and an oppressor, a revolutionary and a reactionary. His biography reads like a novel, and his influence is almost beyond measure. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast, and every month I delve into the turbulent life and times of one of the greatest characters

in history, and explore the world that shaped him in all its glory and tragedy. It's a story of great battles and campaigns, political intrigue, and massive social and economic change, but it's also a story about people, populated with remarkable characters. I hope you'll join me as I examine this fascinating era of history. Find The Age of Napoleon wherever you get your podcasts. This seems to have proved to Emperor Da Guang that An was not in cahoots with Shi, and so at last he released the Jin envoys. No harm, no foul. An Zhongzong's rebellion had been aimed at either breaking up the Liao-Later Jin alliance, or failing that than

perhaps unseating Shi Jingtang from his position of power, and in both aims it had spectacularly backfired. The Liaojian alliance had been firmly reconfirmed, and now Shi sat more securely on the throne than ever before, and in the conflict's wake enjoyed a new height to his political capital. He governed a realm of internal stability and external diplomacy, all while being able to clamp down on rebellious officials without the need for large-scale external aid. And here I should note the distinction between calling for aid from the kingdom of Chu versus the Liao. Chu was a tributary ally of later Jin, meaning that it sat lower on the social totem pole and could thus be safely called upon for such reasons without risking political legitimacy. What good were tributaries, after all, if they weren't used

when they were needed? Calling for help from Liao, on the other hand, and as we've already discussed here, would have been like running to your dad for help. Sure, it might solve the immediate problem, but it'll also get you made fun of and probably more than one atomic wedgie down the line. Instead, by dealing with this problem himself and maintaining his alliance with the Liao, Shi had established a monopoly on authority, for there was now no external power north or south willing to act as an alternative source of legitimation for a rebel. That would have been great news for Shi, except for the fact that he was now dying of an illness. Before succumbing in the 6th month of 942, he was able to entrust the care of his youngest and only surviving biological son and heir, Shi Chongrei, to his trusted

chancellor Feng Tao. With that, Shi Jingtang slipped his mortal bonds on the 28th of July at 50 years old, having established and ruled Later Jin for just shy of six years. But with every expectation that thanks to his tireless efforts and willingness to put the affairs of his state's well-being before that of personal pride, Later Jin would endure well beyond him. Oh, and if only that was how it had gone. But it didn't. No, instead, the trustworthy and true Chancellor Feng Tao immediately pulled the old air switcheroo

and instead installed Jintang's 28-year-old adopted son and biological nephew, Shi Chonggui, which, believe me, I know, is really close-sounding to Chongrui. I had to reread this section a few times before I was really getting what exactly had happened here. In fact, let's just nip this confusion in the bud, and I'm just going to go and call him from here on out what history knows him as. Emperor Chu, the exiled emperor. He's also called Emperor Xiao, the young emperor. But I'm standing by my choice for

thematic consistency. You'll see what I mean in the end. Why had Feng Tao committed to such a dastardly deed? Well, for one, do I really need to remind everyone how bad of an idea it typically is to have a child emperor? I mean, it is literally never a good idea, like ever. And then, number two, Feng appears to have been handily in the pocket of the guy who would be the true power behind the throne for the next four years, the commander of the Imperial Guard, General Jing Yan Guang.

And General Jing, yeah, he's got a few changes in mind. From Standen, quote, Jing seems to have been particularly exercised about the theoretical inconsistency in Shijing Tang's relationship with the Liao ruler, and unlike his late emperor, showed no concern at all to maintain peaceful relations with the later Jing's northern neighbors. End quote. Oh yeah, this is definitely going to go great. So, first things first.

Emperor Chu sent a missive to Deguang up in Liao, informing him of his accession, as was normal practice. But at General Jing's urging, Chu referred to himself only as the grandson of Deguang, rather than as his subject. Now, Deguang had made a special exception with Shijingtang that he didn't have to refer to himself as Liao's emperor's subject, but it was an awfully provocative act for a new emperor to simply assume that exemption carried on to him as well. Deguang, such as it was, sent a reply pointing out this oversight and saying, in effect, I see you forgot to call yourself my subject, which you are. You owe your entire kingdom to me and my army. Don't forget that.

But Chu, and through him Jing, sent a counter-reply saying, and no, I'm not kidding, No, no, no, no, you got this all wrong. I am not your subject because you only enthroned my predecessor, not me. Followed, I assume, by an emoji with the tongue sticking out, probably. This, as you may well imagine, caused quite a stir up in Liao. The governor of the southern capital, which is, again, ironically, modern Beijing, started clamoring for war, ostensibly because of this offense, but in reality because he hoped to be named the later Jane Puppet Emperor when Emperor Chu had been removed. But Da Guang again

showed his temperance and willingness to sit down and, you know, talk this whole situation out. But to Emperor Chu, and especially his court, of which General Jing was now a key member, there was no compromise to be reached. As they interpreted the mutually beneficial alliance between Liao and later Jing, it had only been a personal deal between the two individuals. Only.

And no other sovereign was bound to observe it. In any case, it was all far too embarrassing to even think of accepting. I mean, just think of it. The son of heaven, one and only sovereign of the four corners of the world, subservient to a barbarian king, forced to call himself subject and de-guang his imperial father? It was humiliating. No treaty or peace was worth this. Still, for the following year, the dam held fast. Deguang bit his tongue at this egregious breach of his goodwill, and Chu and Jing did their best to poke hole after hole into the dam that held it back. In the seventh month of 942, they

at last pierced Dagwang's patience when they ordered the extermination of all Liao merchants within the borders of later Jin, followed up by a hostile missive sent to the Liao court saying that they were ready for any military action the Gitan might want to throw at them. And then, General Jing turned and started provoking one of his own regional generals, in the person of the governor of Qingzhou out in western Shandong. Jing began by confiscating 3,000 of the governor's horses and then doubly insulted him by strengthening a nearby Jing garrison, effectively saying, yeah, go ahead and try something, I dare you. Predictably, the Qingzhou governor complained loudly and repeatedly about this,

not to Emperor Chu, mind you, but he went right over his head and pulled an I'd like to speak to your manager by sending his complaints directly to Daguang that Chu had, quote, turned his back on morality and broken the treaty, end quote. You have to be almost kind of impressed by all of this. I mean, this isn't just regular old stupid at work here. No, no, this is advanced stupid. Of course, by now the Liao had no options left.

If it was war Emperor Chu really, really wanted, well, then war is what he'd get, with their demands being nothing less than the overthrow of the Jin Emperor entirely. The war between Liao and later Jin took place in three parts over four campaign seasons, each of which apparently occurred amidst widespread natural disasters. I mean, we're talking locust plagues, floods, and famines across virtually all of Laodian territories. How's that for an omen from heaven, huh? The first campaign of 943-44 saw the Liao army advance rapidly southward toward the Yellow River, only to withdraw just as quickly once they met significant opposition. The second campaign began in much the same manner,

but this time Laodian armies sought to force a conclusion to the conflict by striking directly at the Liao southern capital. This forced Deguang's hand, and he had to switch strategies by trying to pacify all under heaven in one fell swoop. This, however, would backfire when he and his camel cavalry wound up defeated and forced to flight in the midst of a dust storm near Dingzhou. Well now, this is interesting. Militarily, this whole war was going surprisingly well for later Jin. Not only had Emperor Chu's armies put the Gitan Emperor to flight, but they'd also managed to put Qingzhou to a successful siege that lasted a year before the rebellious governor's own son had his father arrested and then surrendered the city to later

Jin. Meanwhile, a series of state-backed rebellions had broken out in the 16 prefectures and managed to seize 10 forts back from the Liao forces. Unfortunately, wars are not always won by military successes alone. And in this instance, the conditions and quality of governance on the home front more than offset Jin's battlefield gains. Remember how I said that there were plagues and famines? Well, there were also governors by the fistful, willing, ready, and able to exploit their populations in the middle of these turbulent times. A situation neither Emperor Chu

nor his court seemed all that interested in correcting, nor would they even consider lowering the tax rate or the court's own expenditures. Any one of these things occurring over the course of a reign period was a dangerous signal that the ruler was about to lose the mandate of heaven and that dynastic collapse was imminent. By 944, Emperor Chu displayed a bit of backbone and had General Jing removed from the court and demoted to the regent of Luoyang following a display of cowardice on the battlefield. Though in actuality, it was as a response to the general's apparent heartlessness in regards to the peasants' plight. He then tried to establish a commission to reassess and lower tax rates across

the board, even going so far as to declare a new reign era, an accompanying act of grace granting widespread amnesty to convicts and the indebted. Yet for all this, it seems that heaven was not in a forgiving mood, because shortly thereafter, the Yellow River broke through its control systems and flooded five prefectures, including the capital district itself, compounding the ongoing catastrophe. Again from Standen, quote, Other problems had human causes. The war continued to require levies of soldiers, equipment, and taxes. Militia numbers reportedly reached 70,000.

Misappropriation, increasingly widespread, diverted much tax revenue to governor's coffers. Sometimes the only way to collect revenue was to raid the governor's private stores in his absence, although this could be hazardous. When an imperial commissioner seized the illegally acquired grain stocks of Du Chongwei, the governor of Chengzhou, Du's fury had to be assuaged with gifts, and the commissioner was dismissed." So just to be clear here, the central government had to go around stealing their own tax money from their own governors, and then profusely apologize and give those stealing governors gifts when they were caught in the act. Hey, you can't steal from me, I stole it from you, fair and square! But there was nothing for it,

since trying to punish Du for his obvious guilt was likely to alienate the other governors, who were likewise stuffing their pockets with tax money, and an alienated governor was likely to prompt them to defect to Liao. The campaign season of 945-46 would prove to be the turning point of the war, which is especially strange considering that there was no official, or at least high-level, fighting that year. This is mostly because, by this point, both, Laird Jane and Liao, were in the depths of a deep famine, and no one is willing to fight on an empty stomach. Liao forces did continue to raid across the border, to be sure, but it seems that that was almost solely for plunder or just trying to get food. Now, famine leads to desperation, and desperation leads to banditry

across the countryside, with roving gangs sometimes reaching sufficient strength to take over entire counties and even defeat military units dispatched to suppress them. But then, even worse, there's the issue of the pastoralist population. Later, Jin wasn't providing enough food for everyone, so... Wait a second, why are we here again? They did what herding nomads do when times get tough. They abandoned ship and went back to their ancestral homelands, which is to say, straight back into the welcoming bosom of the Liao. Exacerbating this population

drain was the fact that while Da Guang was greeting the returned nomads with open arms, later Jin governors busied themselves confiscating the riches of the tribal chieftains, even as they demanded those tribes continue to serve in their armies. Um, how about no? It got even worse, though, when a Buddhist cult in Dingzhou began arming themselves to protect the local populace from the bandit raids. When the later Jin court became suspicious of the cult's leader and refused to aid, well, the cultists turned to Liao and said, have you got a better offer for us than nothing? And indeed, Dagwang did have a

better offer. And so, over they went too. The campaign of 946-47 would prove to be the final year of the war. Under a new military commander, the old one having been ousted for bribe-taking of all things, Later Jin had planned all its hopes of victory on a trick play. That is, they had secretly invited the Liao commander-in-chief, General Zhao Yanshou, who was originally a native of the Yellow River Valley, to, you know, switch sides and come on back home again. All is forgiven. From Standen, quote, After an exchange of letters, Zhao said that he would like to come home to the Middle Kingdom if an army was sent to meet him. Accordingly, as the season opened, commanders Du Chongwei and Li Shouchun led north the entire Imperial Guard, including Shi Zhonggui's personal guards, to join up with Zhao's Liao force and capture the 16 prefectures for later Jin.

It was the perfect plan. Get the enemy leader to defect with his army, and just like that, the war is won. Perfect. That is, unless the enemy general is actually lying to you just to draw you out of your defensive strongholds and into the open. And wouldn't you know it, that's exactly what General Zhao had in mind. Zhao Yanshou had no intention of surrendering. He had drawn the Later Jin forces out of their defensive strongholds and dangerously exposed

their field army. Later Jin morale flagged as ceaseless rains bogged them down. When it became suddenly terribly clear that their double cross had been triple crossed, the Later Jin commanders attempted to retreat, but to no avail. Du Chongwei was persuaded to hold out at the He Tuo River, but was swiftly outflanked by Daguang's own personal army. Reportedly, the Liao Emperor promised Du the throne of Later Jin if he and his army defected, and Du greedily took him up on his word. Spoiler alert, Du will never sit the throne of Later Jin if he and his army defected, and Du greedily took him up on his word. Spoiler alert, Du will never sit the throne of Later Jin. This left Emperor Chu of Later Jin completely and utterly defenseless in Kaifeng. When word reached the capital of what had befallen

the, um, entire army, Chu began to make his final preparations to end his own life, in a very familiar fashion, by self-immolation. The funeral pyre was averted, however, when he was stopped by the timely arrival of a letter from Daguang himself to the Empress Dowager, convincing her to stop her son from committing suicide. He would instead write a formal letter of surrender, which is as followed from the Zizhetongjian, quote, he shall, along with the Empress Dowager and his wife Lady Feng, gather his family and take them to the fields, bind himself, and wait for your judgment. He is sending his sons Yan Shu, military governor of Zhenning, and Yan Bo, the military governor of Weixin, to present in

surrender one imperial seal and three golden seals. End quote. When Da Guang and his force arrived, the emperor had done as he'd written, and he awaited his fate. Yet once again, the Liao emperor showed his clemency by sparing Chu and his family's life. Instead, he had Chu demoted to the title of Marquis of Fuji, meaning the Marquis who turned against righteousness,

and then ordered that they be banished into permanent exile deep within Liao territory. Their journey, to be sure, was made an exceedingly difficult one, since they were provided with minimal supplies from the outset, and once they reached Liao territory, no further supplies whatsoever. Perhaps a bit of a this-is-what-your-war-made-the-populace-go-through comeuppance on Deguang's part. We don't know. In any case, they would run out of food several times on the journey, and their attendants were forced to forage fruits and leaves from the countryside. Nevertheless, Shizhong Gui would live out the rest of his life in the exile, once they reached their appointed destination. But it would

be a long time coming. Though his wife, Lady Feng, initially attempted to find poison so that they both might die together, she was unable, and in time, their situation would somewhat improve, meaning that they would receive regular resupply from the south. Sui Chonggui was 32 or 33 when he entered exile in 947, but he would end up living another 27 years before dying in 974 at the age of 59, a forgotten, imp the Khitan Liao's total domination over the Yellow River Valley. But, surprisingly, it won't last long. Within a year, Emperor Da Guang will be very, very bored indeed with the southern lifestyle, and will be putting Kaifeng into his rearview mirror as he and his Khitan head back to their own lands. They had their ancestral homeland, and they had the 16

prefectures, and the devil could take the rest of China. Just don't bother us anymore. That, of course, will leave a new power vacuum in the Yellow River Valley, to be filled with yet more contenders for the imperial throne. Thanks for listening. 400 years ago, a trio of tiny kingdoms were perched on some damp islands off the coast of Europe. Within three short centuries, these islands would become the centre of an empire which ruled a quarter of the globe and on which the sun never set. I'm Samuel Hume, a historian of the British Empire, and my podcast Pax Britannica follows the people and events that built that empire into a global superpower. Learn the history of the British Empire, and my podcast, Pax Britannica, follows the people and events that built that empire into a global superpower.

Learn the history of the British Empire by listening to Pax Britannica everywhere you find your podcasts, or go to pod.link slash pax.