Now, Lei Kai led his fifty soldiers in pursuit along the road to Nandu, fast as lightning and flying clouds, swift as wind and driving rain. When night fell, Lei Kai gave the order: “Eat your fill, and we’ll keep after them through the night. They can’t have got far.” The soldiers did as they were told, ate a good soldiers’ meal and pressed on. By about the second watch the soldiers, worn out from days of hard travel, were every one of them drowsing in the saddle, and they very nearly tumbled off their horses. Lei Kai thought to himself: “If we chase them by night, we may ride straight past them. If the prince is behind us while we’re out in front, all our trouble will be for nothing. Better to rest for the night; tomorrow, fresh and strong, we can give chase properly.” He called to the men around him: “Look ahead — is there a village or a farmhouse? We’ll stop there for the night and go after them tomorrow.” After so many days of hard pursuit, the soldiers wanted nothing better than a rest. The men on either side held their torches and lanterns high, and in the light they saw dense pines ahead casting deep shade — a village, it seemed. But when they came to look, it was a temple. A soldier came to report: “There’s an old temple ahead, my lord. You could stay there for what’s left of the night and set off early tomorrow.” “That will do very well,” said Lei Kai. The soldiers reached the front of the temple. Lei Kai dismounted and looked up: the board hanging above read “Temple of Xuanyuan”. There was no keeper inside. The soldiers pushed the door open and all went in together, and when they held up their torches, there at the foot of the holy throne lay a man, snoring, fast asleep. Lei Kai went up to look: it was the prince, Yin Hong. Lei Kai sighed. “If we had ridden on, we’d have missed him! This too is Heaven’s reckoning.” “Your Highness! Your Highness!” Lei Kai called. Yin Hong, deep in sleep, woke with a start to see lanterns and torches and a crowd of soldiers packed about him. The prince recognized Lei Kai. “General Lei!” he cried. Lei Kai said, “Your Highness, your servant is here on the Son of Heaven’s orders to ask Your Highness to return to court. The officials have all written memorials pleading for you, so Your Highness may set your mind at rest.” Yin Hong said, “Say no more, general. I know it all, and I don’t suppose I can escape this calamity. I’m not afraid to die. It’s only that I’ve had a wretched time of it on the road, and I can hardly walk. I beg you, general, let me ride your horse a while. What do you say?” Hearing this, Lei Kai answered at once, “Please ride your servant’s horse, Your Highness. Your servant will gladly follow on foot.” So Yin Hong left the temple and mounted, and with Lei Kai bringing up the rear on foot, they made for the place where the three roads met. But no more of that.

Our story turns to Yin Pobai, who was riding hard along the highway toward Eastern Lu. After a day or two he reached the town of Fengyun, and ten li beyond it he saw whitewashed walls splayed out on either side of a gate, and a board lettered in gold: “Residence of the Grand Preceptor”. Yin Pobai reined in his horse to look: it was Chancellor Shang’s residence. He leapt from the saddle and went straight into the chancellor’s residence to see Shang Rong — for Shang Rong had once been Yin Pobai’s patron2, and Yin Pobai was Shang Rong’s protégé. That was why he dismounted to pay his respects; he had no idea that the crown prince, Yin Jiao, was eating in the hall at that very moment. As Shang Rong’s protégé, unworthy as he was, Yin Pobai did not need to be announced. He went straight to the front of the hall, and there he saw the prince at table with the chancellor. Yin Pobai went up into the hall and said, “Your Highness, Venerable Chancellor: this humble officer is here on the Son of Heaven’s orders to ask Your Highness to return to court.” Shang Rong said, “General Yin, you’ve come at a good moment. Here’s what I think: Zhaoge has four hundred officials, civil and military, and not one of them will speak plainly to the Son of Heaven. The civil officials clamp their mouths shut and the military men cannot speak; they take their ranks and covet fame, sit in their posts like corpses and eat the bread of idleness. What kind of a world is this!” Once the chancellor had started cursing in his anger, there was no stopping him. But the prince, Yin Jiao, trembling all over, his face as sallow as yellow paper, came forward and said, “Venerable Chancellor, there’s no need to be so angry. If General Yin is under orders to arrest me, I don’t suppose there is any road to life for me where I am going.” And with that his tears fell like rain. Shang Rong cried, “Set your mind at rest, Your Highness! Your old servant’s memorial is not yet finished, and when I see the Son of Heaven, I shall have plenty to say.” He called to his grooms: “Get the horses ready and pack the baggage. I’ll go and see the king myself, and that’s that.” When Yin Pobai saw that Shang Rong meant to go to Zhaoge himself to see the king, he was afraid the Son of Heaven would blame him. “Chancellor, hear me,” said Yin Pobai. “Your humble servant was ordered to bring back His Highness. Let me go back first with His Highness and wait for you in Zhaoge, and you follow a little after. That will show that your protégé puts the Son of Heaven first and private feelings second. Would the chancellor be willing?” Shang Rong laughed. “General Yin, I know what’s behind those words: if I travel with you, you’re afraid the Son of Heaven will charge you with going easy for friendship’s sake. Very well. Your Highness, go on ahead with General Yin; this old man will follow close behind.” Now the prince was leaving Shang Rong’s residence. He went a step and stopped, a step and stopped, and his tears never dried. Then Shang Rong called to Yin Pobai, “My worthy young friend, I am handing His Highness over to you sound and whole. Don’t go hoping for great merit and do harm to the great duty between king and minister — or no punishment will be enough for your crime.” Yin Pobai touched his head to the ground. “Your protégé hears you. How would I dare do anything rash?” The prince took his leave of Shang Rong and mounted with Yin Pobai, and they set off down the road. As he rode, Yin Jiao thought to himself, “Though I don’t shrink from dying, there is still my brother Yin Hong. The day will yet come when he can clear our wrongs and take revenge.” They travelled for more than a day, and before they knew it they had come to the place where the three roads met. The soldiers reported it to Lei Kai. Lei Kai came to the camp gate to look, and there was the prince on horseback with Yin Pobai. “Congratulations on your return, Your Highness!” said Lei Kai. The prince dismounted and went into the camp. Yin Hong was sitting in the place of honour in the tent when the announcement came: “His Highness is here.” Yin Hong heard it and looked up, and there indeed was Yin Jiao. And when Yin Jiao saw Yin Hong, it was as though knives were twisting in his heart and his mind were frying in oil. He rushed forward, seized hold of Yin Hong and burst into loud sobs. “What crime did we two brothers ever commit against Heaven and Earth? We fled east and south and still couldn’t get away — we’ve ended up in the net after all! Both of us are caught, and our vengeance for our mother — a wrong no son can live under the same sky with — comes to nothing!” He stamped his feet and beat his breast, his grief cutting him to the bone: “Pity my mother, who died innocent, and her sons, who die guiltless!” As the two princes wept and wailed, of all the three thousand soldiers, those who heard were sick at heart, and those who saw covered their faces. The two generals had no choice but to drive their men and horses on toward Zhaoge. There is a poem to prove it. It says:

Now, the two generals, Yin and Lei, having caught the princes, came near Zhaoge and pitched camp. The two generals went into the city to report on their mission, secretly delighted at their success. A scout brought word to the headquarters of Huang Feihu, Prince Wucheng: “The two generals Yin and Lei have caught the two princes and have gone into the city to report.” When Huang Feihu heard this, he flew into a rage. “The churls! You want your success and care nothing for the heirs of Cheng Tang — well, I’ll see to it that before you enjoy your thousand measures of grain, you dine on the sword, and before your merit wins you a fief, blood stains your clothes!” He ordered Huang Ming, Zhou Ji, Long Huan and Wu Yan: “Go and ask all the senior princes and all the officials, civil and military, to gather at the Meridian Gate.” The four generals went off to carry out his order. Huang Feihu mounted and rode straight to the Meridian Gate. He had only just dismounted when officials civil and military came thronging in, officers from every quarter: they had heard that the princes were caught, and they all came to the Meridian Gate. Before long the Second Chancellor Bi Gan, Weizi, Jizi, Weizi Qi, Weizi Yan, Bo Yi3, Shu Qi, the Senior Counsellors Jiao Ge, Zhao Qi, Yang Ren, Sun Yin, Fang Tianjue, Li Ye and Li Sui, and all the other officials were there and greeted one another. Huang Feihu said, “Your Highnesses, counsellors: whether today ends in safety or peril is for the Chancellor and you gentlemen whose office is remonstrance to decide. I am a military man, and speaking up is not my charge. I beg you to make your plans quickly.” While they were talking it over, soldiers came crowding up to the Meridian Gate with the two princes in their midst. The officials went forward, crying, “Your Highnesses!” Yin Jiao and Yin Hong wept and cried out, “Royal uncles, elder and younger, and all you great ministers! Pity the descendants of Cheng Tang in the thirty-first generation, to be butchered in a single day! Since I was installed in the Eastern Palace I have never failed in virtue; and even if I had done wrong, it would mean no more than demotion and banishment — never that my head and body should be parted. We beg you all, put the altars of the state first and save what is left of our lives. We would be more fortunate than words can say!” Weizi Qi said, “Your Highnesses, never fear. The officials have all written memorials pleading for you; surely no harm will come to you.”

Meanwhile the two generals, Yin and Lei, went into the Shouxian Palace to report. King Zhou said, “Since the rebel sons are taken, there’s no need for them to see Us. Behead them at once at the Meridian Gate, as the law requires; then gather up the bodies, bury them and report back.” Yin Pobai said, “Without the execution warrant from the palace, how would your servant dare put them to death?” At once King Zhou took up the royal brush, wrote the words “Carry out the sentence” and handed it to them. Bearing the execution warrant before them in both hands, the two generals, Yin and Lei, hurried out to the Meridian Gate. At the sight, fire flared in Huang Feihu’s heart and fury rose from his gall. He planted himself in the very middle of the Meridian Gate, barred the two generals’ way and shouted, “Yin Pobai! Lei Kai! Congratulations! Merit for catching the crown prince, a title for killing the princes! Only I fear that high office is sure to be dangerous, and the weightier the post, the greater the peril!” Before the two generals, Yin and Lei, could answer, an official — it was the Senior Counsellor Zhao Qi — strode up, snatched the execution warrant Yin Pobai was holding with one swipe of his hand and tore it into a thousand pieces. “The benighted king is without the Way,” he shouted fiercely, “and you churls abet his evil! Who dares carry a warrant to put the crown prince of the Eastern Palace to death on his own say-so? Who dares wield the precious sword to behead the heir out of hand? As things are at court today, the bonds and the constants are overturned, and of ritual and righteousness nothing is left! Your Highnesses, great ministers: the Meridian Gate is no place to discuss affairs of state. Let us all go to the great hall, ring the bells and beat the drums, and ask His Majesty to come to court. Every one of us must brave his displeasure and remonstrate with him plainly, to make the heir, the foundation of the state, secure.” When the two generals, Yin and Lei, saw the officials so roused that they no longer kept to the forms of the court, they were so frightened that they stood goggling and speechless, not knowing what to do. Huang Feihu also ordered his four generals, Huang Ming, Zhou Ji and the others, to guard the princes, in case anyone tried to murder them on the sly. The eight chamberlains had bound the two princes and were only waiting for the execution warrant — who could have known the officials would stand in the way? But let us leave them there. Meanwhile the officials all went up into the great hall, rang the bells and beat the drums, and asked the Son of Heaven to come to the hall. In the Shouxian Palace King Zhou heard the bells and drums and was about to send to ask what it meant, when a chamberlain came to report: “The officials of the whole court, civil and military, ask Your Majesty to come to the hall.” King Zhou said to Daji, “It can only be the rebel sons: the officials want to plead for them. What should be done?” Daji said, “Your Majesty, send out a decree: the princes are to be beheaded today, and the officials may come to audience tomorrow. And while the decree goes out, have Yin Pobai hurried along to report back.” The chamberlain came down with the decree, and the officials looked up to hear His Majesty’s words:

“The decree reads: When the ruler summons, one does not wait for the carriage to be harnessed; when the ruler grants death, one dare not live. This is the great law of all the ages, which not even the Son of Heaven may make lighter or heavier. Now the rebel son Yin Jiao, with Yin Hong abetting his evil, has destroyed the bonds of kin, scorned the law and given free rein to wickedness. He came into the palace with a sword and killed the traitor Jiang Huan on his own authority, hoping to leave no witness; then he took up the sword again and dared to go after officers of the court to kill them, meaning to murder his father. He has defied reason and gone against every constant, and the duty of a son is utterly destroyed in him. Now they are taken at the Meridian Gate, so that the law of Our ancestors may be upheld. You ministers are not to aid rebels or shield evil. Hear Our words clearly. If there are affairs of state, wait until We come to the hall tomorrow to deliberate on them. Hence this decree. Let all take due note.”

When the chamberlain had finished reading the decree, the officials could do nothing. They argued this way and that without reaching a decision, yet they dared not disperse either — not knowing that the execution warrant had already gone out through the Meridian Gate. But let us leave them there.

Now, Heaven above hangs out its signs and fixes the rise and fall of dynasties. The two princes were among those named on the Investiture List, and so of course they were not fated to die. At that time there were Chijingzi of the Cloud Heights Cave on Mount Taihua and Guangchengzi of the Peach Spring Cave on Mount Jiuxian. Because after fifteen hundred years the immortals had been caught up in the calamity of slaughter4, the sage who presides over the exposition of the Way and proclaims the true teaching — the Heavenly Venerable Yuanshi5 of the Palace of Jade Emptiness on Mount Kunlun — had closed his lectures and no longer expounded the Way and its Virtue. So the two immortals, with nothing to do, were taking their ease among the Three Mountains and roaming the Five Sacred Peaks as the fancy took them. Treading on the light of their clouds, they were passing over Zhaoge when suddenly two beams of red light, rising from the crowns of the two princes’ heads, blocked the cloud light beneath the great immortals’ feet. The two immortals parted the clouds and looked down. Over the Meridian Gate the air of slaughter hung thick and unbroken, and clouds of sorrow rolled and knotted. At once the two immortals understood what it meant. Guangchengzi said, “Daoist brother, the kingly aura of Cheng Tang is nearly spent, and the sage ruler in Xiqi has already come forth. Look: in that crowd of living beings two are bound, and their red vapour soars to the sky — they are not fated to die. Besides, both of them are to be famous generals under Jiang Ziya. Our hearts are set on the Way, and our compassion must reach everywhere. Why not save them? You take one and I’ll take the other back to our mountains. Later they can help Jiang Ziya to victory and march east through the Five Passes. That way we kill two birds with one stone.” “You’re right,” said Chijingzi. “We mustn’t delay.” Guangchengzi at once called for the Yellow-Turbaned Strongman6: “Seize those two princes for me and carry them back to our mountains to serve us!” The Yellow-Turbaned Strongman received the sacred command and raised a divine wind. Earth whirled and dust flew, sand flew and stones rolled; the ground went dark and the sky dim, and there was a resounding crash, as though Mount Hua had split open and Mount Tai had toppled. The troops standing guard around, the soldiers with their swords, and Yin Pobai, who was supervising the execution, were all so terrified that they covered their faces with their clothes and scurried off like rats, their arms over their heads. When the wind had dropped and all was still, the two princes were gone — no one knew where — without a trace. Yin Pobai was frightened out of his wits: it was a strange thing beyond all telling. Outside the Meridian Gate the troops raised a great shout. In the great hall Huang Feihu had heard the decree read, and the officials were arguing this way and that, when suddenly they heard the shouting. Bi Gan was just asking what the shouting was about when Zhou Ji came into the great hall and reported to Huang Feihu: “Just now there was a great gust of wind, and a strange fragrance filled the road; sand flew and stones rolled, and you couldn’t see a man in front of your face. There was one great crash, and the two princes were blown away — no one knows where. It’s a strange thing beyond all telling — truly uncanny!” When the officials heard this, they were overjoyed. “Heaven will not let the wronged sons perish,” they sighed, “and Earth will not cut off the line of Cheng Tang.” Every official’s face shone with joy. Then Yin Pobai hurried into the palace to report to King Zhou. A later writer lamented this affair in a poem. It says:

Now, Yin Pobai went into the Shouxian Palace and reported to King Zhou: “As commanded, your servant was supervising the execution and waiting for the warrant to come out when, all of a sudden, a great gale blew the two princes away, leaving no trace. A strange thing beyond all telling. I await Your Majesty’s command.” King Zhou heard this and pondered in silence, thinking to himself, “Strange! Uncanny!” And in his heart he could not make up his mind.

Meanwhile Chancellor Shang Rong, following behind, hurried into Zhaoge. He heard the people of Zhaoge all saying, “The wind has blown the two princes away!” and was much astonished. When he came to the Meridian Gate, it was thronged with men and horses, and armoured soldiers were milling everywhere. Shang Rong went straight in through the Meridian Gate and over the Jiulong Bridge. Bi Gan saw him coming, and all the officials went forward to meet him, crying, “Chancellor!” Shang Rong said, “Your Highnesses, counsellors: I, Shang Rong, a guilty man, have not long retired to the woods. Who would have thought that the Son of Heaven would misrule so — killing his sons and putting his wife to death, dissolute and without the Way? And what a pity: here is a whole imposing chancellery, here are the illustrious Three Dukes! You eat the court’s stipend, so you ought to do the court’s work. Why has not one of you said a single word to stop the Son of Heaven? Why?” Huang Feihu said, “Chancellor, the Son of Heaven lives deep in the inner palace and never comes to the great hall; every command he gives is passed out by messenger. None of his ministers can see him face to face — truly, the king’s gate is ten thousand li away. Today the two generals, Yin and Lei, caught the princes and brought them into the capital to report. They were bound at the Meridian Gate, waiting only for the warrant for their execution. Happily the Senior Counsellor, Master Zhao, tore the warrant to pieces, and the officials rang the bells and beat the drums to ask the Son of Heaven to come to the hall so that we could remonstrate with him to his face. But all that came was a decree from the inner palace: once the princes were beheaded, he would look at the officials’ memorials tomorrow. Inside and outside are cut off, king and ministers kept apart, and we cannot put our case to him in person. Just when there seemed to be nothing we could do, Heaven granted what we wished: a great gale blew the two princes away. Yin Pobai has only just gone into the palace to report and has not yet come out. Wait a little, Venerable Chancellor. When he comes out, we shall know the whole story.” Just then Yin Pobai came out of the great hall. He saw Shang Rong, but before he could say anything, Shang Rong stepped up to him. “So the princes have been blown away by the wind! Congratulations on your great merit and your weighty charge — any day now you’ll be granted lands and a fief!” Yin Pobai bowed low, hands clasped. “Chancellor, such blame will be the death of this humble officer! I was picked for this by the king’s command; it was nothing of my own seeking. You do me wrong, Chancellor.” Shang Rong said to the officials, “I have come to see the Son of Heaven face to face, and I shall not leave alive. Today I will brave his displeasure and remonstrate with him plainly, and give my life for my country, so that one day I may face the spirits of the former kings in heaven.” He called on the officer of the hall to ring the bells and beat the drums. The officer of the hall set bells and drums sounding together, and the chamberlains struck up music to summon His Majesty. King Zhou was in his palace, gloomy and out of sorts because the wind had carried off the princes. When he heard the music calling him to court and the bells and drums going on without end, he flew into a rage; but he had no choice but to call for his carriage, come to the hall and mount the precious throne. When the officials had paid their respects, the Son of Heaven said, “What memorials have you ministers to present?” Shang Rong lay prostrate below the vermilion steps and said nothing. King Zhou saw a man lying prostrate below the vermilion steps, dressed in plain white, who was not one of his great ministers. “Who is that lying there?” said the king. Shang Rong replied, “Shang Rong, the retired First Chancellor, who awaits punishment, pays court to Your Majesty.” When King Zhou saw that it was Shang Rong, he asked in surprise, “Minister, you have retired to the woods. Yet you come back to the capital and walk into the great hall without obeying any summons from Us — how can you so little know when to come forward and when to keep away?” Shang Rong crawled on his elbows and knees to the foot of the eaves and said, weeping, “When your servant held the office of chancellor, I never repaid the kindness of the state. Lately I have heard that Your Majesty is sunk in wine and women and has cast off the Way and its Virtue entirely: that you heed slander and drive away the upright, throw the laws of the state into confusion, turn the Five Constants upside down and defile the constant order of human relations. The way of a ruler is failing, and disaster and chaos already lie in wait. Your servant does not shrink from death by ten thousand blades. I have drawn up a memorial to lay before Heaven, and I earnestly beg Your Majesty to accept it. Then it will be as though the clouds had parted and the sun shone through, and all under heaven will look up to your sage virtue for ever.” Shang Rong held up his memorial. Bi Gan took it and spread it out on the royal desk, and King Zhou read it:

“Memorial of your servant Shang Rong, concerning the misrule of the court: the Three Bonds wholly broken, the order of human relations entirely awry, the altars of the state tottering, disaster and chaos already born, and hidden troubles springing up on every side. Your servant has heard that the Son of Heaven governs the state by the Way and the people by virtue. Diligent and watchful, he never dares grow idle or dissolute, but is reverent and fearful day and night as he worships the Lord on High9; and so the ancestral temple and the altars of the state enjoy the safety of a great rock and the strength of walls of metal ringed with moats of boiling water. When Your Majesty first succeeded to the precious throne, you cultivated benevolence and practised righteousness; you allowed yourself no ease and never dared to tire of your labours. You honoured the lords with courtesy and cared generously for your great ministers; you grieved for the toil of the people and spared their goods and wealth. Your wisdom subdued the barbarians on all four sides, and your might reached far and near. The rains came in season and the winds in measure, and all the people prospered at their work. Truly you might have surpassed Yao and outstripped Shun; to call you ‘sage and divine’ would have been no exaggeration. But who could have foreseen that of late Your Majesty would put your trust in the wicked and neglect the work of government, throw the affairs of the court into chaos and give free rein to violence and folly, keep flatterers close and the worthy at a distance, drown yourself in wine and women and spend your days on song and music? You heeded the scheme of a slanderous minister and trapped the queen, and the harmony of human relations is broken. You believed Daji and ordered the crown prince put to death, cutting off the line of the former kings, and a father’s love is utterly destroyed. Those who remonstrate loyally meet the cruel torture of the burning pillar, and the great duty between king and minister is no more. Your Majesty has defiled the Three Bonds, and the ways of men have all gone awry. Your crimes match those of Jie of Xia, and you disgrace the name of sovereign. Of all the rulers without the Way since ancient times, none has gone further than this. Your servant does not shrink from death by the axe, and offers words that grate on the ear. I pray that Your Majesty will at once order Daji to take her own life within the palace, redress the wrong of the queen and the crown prince, who died unjustly, and behead the slanderous ministers in Gaojie Street10, to make amends to the loyal ministers and righteous men for their cruel tortures and terrible deaths. Then the people will look up to you and submit, the officials civil and military will rejoice, the order of the court will be set right and the palace made clean. Your Majesty will sit and enjoy great peace, safe and well for ten thousand years; and the day of your servant’s death will be as good as a year of life. In presenting this, your servant awaits your command in fear and trembling beyond measure. Respectfully submitted for Your Majesty’s hearing.”

When King Zhou had read the memorial, he flew into a rage and tore it to shreds. He sent down a command to the officers in attendance: “Take this old churl out through the Meridian Gate and beat him to death with the golden-melon maces!” The officers in attendance on either side were about to step forward when Shang Rong stood up before the eaves and cried, “Who dares lay hands on me? I have been the arms and legs of three reigns, the great minister to whom the orphan was entrusted11!” Shang Rong pointed at King Zhou and cursed him: “You benighted king! Your heart is bewitched by wine and women, and you have thrown the government of the realm into chaos. Have you never once thought how the former kings were diligent and frugal and cultivated their virtue, and so received the bright mandate of Heaven? Now you, benighted king, show no reverence for Heaven above and cast aside the ancestral temple and altars of your forebears. You say that evil is nothing to fear and reverence not worth the trouble. One day you will be slain and your kingdom lost, to the shame of the former kings. What is more, the queen was your first wife, the mother of the realm, and no one ever heard of her failing in virtue. Yet you keep close company with Daji and had the queen cruelly tortured to death: the great bond is already lost. The princes were innocent, yet you believed slander and would have slaughtered them; now they are blown away without a trace, and the bond between father and son is cut. You shut out the loyal and kill those who remonstrate, and burn good ministers on the pillar: the way of a ruler has failed entirely. I can see disaster and chaos about to rise, and calamities and portents appearing one after another. Before long the ancestral temple will be a heap of ruins and the altars of the state will change masters. Alas for the realm the former kings left their sons and grandsons, spending their very essence and marrow to lay a foundation for ten thousand generations — a realm as strong as walls of metal and moats of boiling water, as fair as embroidered brocade — and you, benighted king, have thrown it away, every last bit of it! When you die and go down to the Nine Springs, with what face will you meet your forebears?” King Zhou pounded the desk and roared, “Seize the churl and smash his skull, now!” Shang Rong shouted at the men on either side, “I do not grudge my life! Di Yi, my late lord: today your old servant has failed the altars of the state. I could not set the king right and save him, and I am truly ashamed to face the former kings! As for you, benighted king — within a few years the realm will be lost to another, all in a single day!” Shang Rong stepped back, then flung himself head first against a stone pillar coiled with dragons. — Pity the old minister of seventy-five, who gave his life in loyalty that day: his brains spurted out and his blood stained his robe. A loyal minister all his life and a filial son for half of it, he died that day as had been fixed in a former life. A later writer wrote a poem in his memory. It says:

Now, when the ministers saw Shang Rong dash himself to death below the steps, they stared at one another in dismay. King Zhou, still raging, ordered the chamberlains, “Throw this old churl’s corpse outside the capital, and let no one bury it!” The attendants carried Shang Rong’s body out of the city. But no more of that. To learn what happened next, read the next chapter.