“Shi Zhuhe, a native of Jianping, had his parents convicted and dismissed from office. In his youth, he focused on studying and mastering the classics. As he grew older, he was summoned to serve as Deputy General of the Cavalry Command.”
– Later Zhou History, Biography of Shi Zhuhe
Most people in Jianping who knew anything about Shi Zhuhe would consider him a modest man. Although the Shi family had already fallen into decline by his generation, Shi Zhuhe himself was diligent and hardworking, doing his utmost to maintain the knowledge and abilities expected of a scion of a noble house.
As a youth, Shi Zhuhe, much like his senior fellow disciple Song Nanlou, had no desire to become an official. Though both were considered oddities among the aristocratic clans, their reasons were different – Shi Zhuhe always felt that the world was so riddled with holes and flaws that it had long passed the point of redemption.
Shi Zhuhe knew that some ambitious officials, upon taking office, would strive to crack down on powerful local clans, thereby uncovering hidden fields and unregistered households for the court’s benefit. Yet such methods never lasted long. Once a magistrate completed his term and left, those clans that had temporarily yielded would inevitably revert to their old ways.
What was even more chilling and disheartening was that officials of this kind were already few and far between across the land.
Unlike his friend, Shi Zhuhe had long since concluded that the old systems of the Great Zhou were beyond saving the world – and this had little to do with whether the emperor was foolish or wise.
In the final years of the Changxing era, Shi Zhuhe watched from the sidelines, listening as the elders of the Song family casually discussed the political situation at court, quietly waiting for the day when chaos would engulf the realm.
When that day came, he would likely pledge his service to one of the regional warlords, seeking his own answer in the process.
Shi Zhuhe had long anticipated that, no matter how hard he tried, the answer he sought would probably never be found.
But perhaps that was just as well. At the very least, he could use his own life as a lesson, warning future generations of what not to do.
In a moment of dizziness, Shi Zhuhe often felt that he had already made a similar choice before. Beneath the dim oil lamp, beside the piled-up documents, he had just turned thirty – yet beneath his cap, strands of silver hair had already appeared. He carved something with great effort, but the characters on the bamboo slips were quickly blurred by the blood he had coughed up…
The Way had vanished from the world. For someone like him, the only path was to sacrifice his life for that Way.
Many grim scenes flashed by, then disappeared just as quickly.
He had walked his road to its very end – but the end was still a dead end.
Beneath his gentle demeanor lay a sense of detachment and numbness that others could hardly detect. Shi Zhuhe thought he would remain like this forever – until he was ordered to suppress a rebellion in the eastern territories. It was only while maneuvering among the powerful local clans there that he suddenly became aware of a bright flame rekindled in his chest, though he could not tell when or why it had been lit.
When word of the western campaign reached his ears, Shi Zhuhe had admired it, but had not paid it much heed. It was only later, when he learned that the Sovereign, wielding the prestige of that victory, had seized the fields of Tai Province to distribute them to the people, and had issued a new decree – that all such confiscated land would be classified as official farmland, forbidden from private sale, and that the commoners granted this land must pay taxes according to its acreage – only then did he feel as though he had suddenly awoken from a nightmare.
The current Sovereign was unlike anyone else. She possessed eyes that saw beyond her era.
Shi Zhuhe often wondered: what exactly did the Emperor see?
His intuition told him that what the Sovereign beheld was precisely the answer he himself had painstakingly sought, over and over again, all his life.
After being dispatched to the eastern territories, Shi Zhuhe spent a great deal of time -relying on military authority and acting with uncompromising force – demolishing the fortified manors of the powerful clans. He pressured local officials to conduct thorough land surveys, redistribute fields according to household population, reform the tax system along the lines of the western model, and meanwhile promoted the imperial academy system established by Her Majesty.
Though he was a military commander by title, he did much that should have been the work of a civil official.
When local aristocratic families failed to negotiate with him, they stormed off in indignation. Before leaving, one of them sneered and mocked him: “Doing things like this – aren’t you afraid that one day you’ll die a broken man, your reputation shattered?”
Many emperors, after finishing their business, had the habit of throwing those who did the dirty work to the wolves to appease the anger of others. Given the track record of the current Sovereign’s ancestors, that man’s words were not necessarily just an idle threat.
But for Shi Zhuhe – what was there to fear?
What did it matter if he died? What did it matter if his reputation was ruined? He was nothing more than a failure who, for all his efforts, could not light a single lamp in a chaotic age. But the Sovereign – she was a rising sun, a beacon for the lost to move forward. Since the Emperor had given him an answer, why could he not die for that Emperor?
“When the Way is lost to the world, one sacrifices oneself for the Way. When the Way prevails in the world, one sacrifices the Way for oneself.”
“That year, Zhiwei first defeated Wuliu, then broke Luojia, spreading her might across the northern frontier. The captives taken were beyond count. Thereafter, she was reassigned to the interior, to Zhuang and Qing provinces, and the borderlands have since remained at peace.”
– Later Zhou History, Biography of Zhong Zhiwei
Among the imperial guards officers, Zhong Zhiwei was a rather unremarkable person, not particularly skilled at communicating with her superiors.
Her ability was certainly decent – otherwise, given the flaws in her family lineage and bloodline, she could not have become a commandant of the imperial guards at such an early age.
But that was about all there was to her.
In the eleventh year of the Changxing era, the late emperor passed away, and the new sovereign ascended the throne. At the same time, rumors spread through the palace that the young emperor – before even appearing before her ministers – had fallen gravely ill and might not survive long enough to truly take the throne.
A storm was brewing. Hearts and minds were in turmoil.
At the time, Zhong Zhiwei did not think this news had anything to do with her.
As she was going about her usual duty guarding the palace, an attendant hurried over, preparing to summon someone to the new emperor’s side.
The person named was Zhong Zhiwei – and at that moment, being summoned by the Sovereign was not necessarily a good thing.
With Wen Jiangong inside the court and the Marquis of Quanling outside, the young emperor had barely steadied herself on the throne. To be noticed by such a sovereign at such a time looked, by any measure, like being set up as cannon fodder.
Zhong Zhiwei walked over quietly, performed her obeisance to the Sovereign, and then, as instructed, handed over her weapon.
The young emperor, still frail from a recent illness, smiled at Zhong Zhiwei and took the sword from her hand.
The weapon of an imperial guard seemed far too heavy for the thirteen-year-old sovereign, yet she received it steadily into her grasp – much as she had taken up this realm, much as she had taken up the fates of so many.
“Captain, raise your head. Let me have a look at you.”
Zhong Zhiwei did as she was told and, for the first time, saw the Emperor clearly.
It was a rainy day.
The moment she looked up, the sound of rain and thunder faded into the distance. The dim light inexplicably became sharp and clear. In the eyes of the military officer, the sovereign before her appeared far too frail and gentle – yet the Emperor’s gaze was piercing, and her bearing carried the sternness of a lofty mountain. One unconsciously forgot her age and remembered only that awe-inspiring presence.
The Emperor asked Zhong Zhiwei her name and ordered her to follow at her side.
At that moment, Zhong Zhiwei did not realize that this act of following would last a lifetime.
Looking back afterward, the first year of the Zhaoming era was truly a year of turbulence.
First came the rebellion in the Northern Park. Then, the Western Tribes began to stir. Without waiting for the enemy to strike first, the Emperor personally led a great army to Shangxing Pass in Dan Province.
Zhong Zhiwei donned her armor and joined the campaign. She was tasked not only with protecting the Emperor’s safety but also with leading the cavalry of the Iron Cavalry Battalion.
As the war on the front lines turned unfavorable, a sense of unease spread through the city.
Dan Province was a rainy land. The fine, silk-like rain turned into a sticky spiderweb, trapping everyone within it.
Many ministers advised the Emperor to return to the capital, and the situation eventually escalated beyond control. Yet the Emperor, residing in the government office, remained utterly calm and composed. She even issued an edict – “Bestow upon General of the Rear Zhong Zhiwei the authority of the ceremonial axe and tallies” – declaring to all her determination to hold fast to the very end.
Zhong Zhiwei felt a surge of exhilaration.
That very day, Zhong Zhiwei led the cavalry into battle and routed the western rebels.
She had already made a name for herself by saving the Emperor in the palace and suppressing the rebellion in the Northern Park. Now, her fame grew even greater. For anyone else, any single one of these achievements would have secured them a few lines in the history books. But for Zhong Zhiwei, this was not even her most famous victory.
Zhong Zhiwei always felt that she was not truly a first-rate general. The reason she could boast such brilliant military achievements was entirely because she had met the present Sovereign.
The Emperor guided her patiently and watched over her. Zhong Zhiwei knew clearly that she could charge forward without hesitation because she knew who stood behind her.
After her fame was sealed at the Battle of Menqu Slope, Zhong Zhiwei was stationed in the western territories, which lacked a commanding general. The Emperor could hardly bear to part with her and, before her departure, gave her many earnest instructions. Zhong Zhiwei also wished to return sooner, to stand behind Her Majesty as before.
But the Emperor simply had too few capable people to employ.
And so Zhong Zhiwei remained in the Left Camp – one year, two years, three years. She worked without arrogance or impatience, steadily strengthening the region’s defenses. By the time she finally had the chance to return to Jianping, she had been tempered into a calm and capable commander. Yet even then, she requested that the Emperor send her out again – to Dingyi, to guard the northern border for the Great Zhou.
Her old quarters from her days as an imperial guard still existed in the palace, and a new residence – the Resident of Marquis Qu’an – had been built for her in the capital.
Zhong Zhiwei stayed for a brief time, then left again. The Emperor granted her request. A few years later, Zhong Zhiwei delivered the campaign that would be recorded in history as the Pacification of the North. From that time onward, throughout the entire reign of Emperor Shizu, no further disturbances arose in the northern lands.
Zhong Zhiwei never knew that in her sovereign’s heart, she was regarded as someone sufficiently lowkey and utterly reliable. Though most of the time she simply stood quietly by, her very presence brought an extraordinary sense of reassurance. She carried out her duties with meticulous care and devotion, treating those beneath her with warmth and those above her with loyalty. Throughout her life, she never failed the emperor above nor the soldiers below.
In the year she turned sixtyfour, Zhong Zhiwei finally left the borderlands and returned to Taikang. The Emperor personally rode out of the city to welcome her, bestowing upon her the title of Grand Guardian and adding ten thousand households to her fief. Zhong Zhiwei declined most of the rewards, asking only to serve once more in the imperial guards for a few days – just as she had in her youth – to follow behind Her Majesty and guard her safety.
In the fiftyfifth year of the Zhaoming era, Zhong Zhiwei passed away. She was given the posthumous name “Loyal Marquis.”
