Historical Records of the Five Dynasties

It is said, “A sense of rites, righteousness, integrity, and shame constitute the ‘four covenants’ of the country. If these four covenants do not thrive, the country will perish.”¹ Excellent indeed is Guan Zhong’s way with words! Rites and righteousness are the premier methods for governing men, integrity and shame the premier maxims to anchor them. Without integrity everything is acceptable, without shame anything is done. When ordinary men are so disposed, every sort of catastrophic turmoil and devastating defeat can occur. Worse yet, when high officials will accept or do anything, chaos for the world and peril to empire can scarcely be eluded. I have read Feng Dao’s “Jottings of the Old Man of Eternal Joy” and witnessed the glories that he personally professes: indeed, he emerges as a man utterly devoid of integrity or shame—a reality now clear to the whole world.

For the entire Five Dynasties era, I found three officials of complete virtue and fifteen to die honorably in service. It is perplexing that a great many literati presented themselves as Confucians and claimed to study antiquity, enjoyed the remuneration of mankind and served its empire. However, inasmuch as those to act on principles of righteous loyalty hailed solely from the ranks of military leaders and warriors, it only affirms the total absence of peers within Confucian ranks. Did literati of less lofty virtue so disdain the times that they dared not surface, their revulsion for the prevailing tumult notwithstanding? Or were monarchs then too undeserving to reach them? Confucius believed, “Even in a hamlet of ten families, the loyal and trustworthy are certain to exist”—no hollow words!²

I once acquired a short story from the Five Dynasties concerning the Woman Li, wife of Wang Ning. If one woman can evince such moral girth, then surely the age produced others gone unnoticed by history. Wang Ning, his ancestral home located between Qing‡ and Qi¶ prefectures, was fiscal administrator of Guozhou upon dying of illness. His family being poor and his sole surviving son still young, his widow set out for home alone, escorting the child and Wang’s corpse. Heading eastward, she passed through Kaifeng and stopped at an inn, where the keeper refused her lodging owing to the suspicious spectacle of [an unaccompanied] woman with child in hand. The sun had already set and Woman Li refused to leave, so the innkeeper grabbed her arm to evict her. The Woman now let out a long wail of protest in peering at the heavens, declaring, “How have I, the wife of another man, failed to protect my chastity by allowing this arm to be touched by another? And surely, I cannot permit a single arm to defile my entire body!” So, drawing an ax, she lopped off her own arm. Roadside observers then surrounded and comforted her, some pointing their fingers accusingly as others wept. Upon learning of the matter, the custodian of Kaifeng informed the court and tapped official funds to provide medicines to cover the wound. He extended generous relief to the Woman Li, the innkeeper flogged with light rod.

Feng Dao [C.E. 882–954] had the courtesy name Kedao. Native to Jingcheng County, Yingzhou, he worked as consultant under Liu Shouguang, then for eunuch Zhang Chengye upon Shouguang’s demise. With Chengye administering the Hedong command, Dao became his local inspector. He was recommended to the Prince of Jin, in recognition of literary talents, and named administrative secretary to the governor of Hedong. Appointments as vice minister of finance and concurrent Hanlin academician attended the accession of Zhuangzong.

Dao could be frugal to the point of severe self-deprivation. When the Princes of Jin and Liang faced off from opposite sides of the Yellow River, Dao lived in a thatched hut within the military compound and slept simply on bundles of straw, rather than on a sleeping mat. And whenever receiving salary, he found quiet contentment in lavishing it on servants, permitting them to enjoy the same food and wine as he. Commanders then given to abducting the beautiful girls of the vanquished often presented some to Dao, who could not well reject them, so he would furnish a separate room as accommodation while inquiring about their original father or husband, discreetly returning the women.

Taking leave as academician to mourn for his father, he found his native Jingcheng plagued for years with famine, so Dao relinquished all possessions to relieve the villagers, retreating to the wilderness to till the land and haul his own firewood. When others let their own lands grow wild or lacked the strength to till themselves, he would quietly proceed at nighttime to till for them. Such persons might later express an embarrassed gratitude, yet Dao saw nothing particularly noble in his deeds.

Reappointment as Hanlin academician followed his parental mourning. Dao had reached Bianzhou when Zhao Zaili rebelled and Emperor Mingzong directed armies southward from Weizhou to invade the capital. Kong Xun implored Dao to remain at Kaifeng to wait things out, but he insisted, “With an imperial summons to appear in the capital, how can I possibly dally?” He thus hastened to the capital of Luoyang. Mingzong ascended the throne after regicide against Zhuangzong, and having long heard of Dao’s personal conduct, inquired of An Chonghui, “What was the standing of Feng Dao under the Former Monarch?” “He was an academician,” reported Chonghui. “I have long known of his reputation and consider him the perfect minister for me,” Mingzong affirmed, naming Dao academician of the Duanming pavilion and later vice minister of war. Only a year later, he became deputy director at the Secretariat with ministerial powers.

In the Tiancheng and Changxing reigns [C.E. 926–933], material bounty had persisted year after year, the Middle Kingdom spared major incidents. Dao often admonished Mingzong all the same, saying, “During my tenure as administrative secretary at Hedong, I served as envoy to Zhongshan and passed through the difficult terrain of Jingxing along the way. Fearing my horse might stumble, I dared not relax the reins and bit. It was on level land where conditions were seemingly harmless, however, that the horse suddenly stumbled and sustained injury. Thus, humans have a proclivity in the face of peril to save themselves by thoroughgoing vigilance, while tranquil times leave them careless about threats to their very life.” Mingzong further inquired, “The world may be prosperous, but have the masses truly seen relief?” Dao responded, “Expensive grains leave farmers starving, but cheap grains will ruin their farms.” Reciting the poem of literatus Nie Yizhong, “Farmer’s Song,” there was immediacy and clarity in his locution.³ Glancing at scribes on the left and right, Mingzong had the poem recorded and often recited it personally.

A commander of water transport once obtained a jade dish from Linhe County inscribed with the characters, “Longevity Dish for the Seal of Dynastic Succession.” Emperor Mingzong, terribly fond of the cup, indicated so to Dao, who surmised, “This treasure is simply a physical representation of a former age, while the moral King is a treasure who transcends form.” Mingzong inquired further and Dao responded, “Benevolence and righteousness should be treasures for a monarch. It is said [in the Book of Changes], ‘The greatest treasure is the throne, but the way to preserve the throne is through benevolence.’”⁴ Mingzong was a martial ruler unable to appreciate his words, so after Dao’s departure, he summoned aides to explain his meaning, embracing it with relish.

Dao served Mingzong as minister for more than ten years, and after Mingzong expired, he ministered to Emperor Min.⁵ In the wake of the Prince of Lu’s rebellion at Fengxiang and Emperor Min’s flight to Weizhou‡, Dao led official multitudes in welcoming the Prince to the capital. The Prince became Emperor Fei, Dao ministering to him. Emperor Min was at Weizhou‡ at the time of Fei’s accession, but perished in an act of regicide three days later. Emperor Fei subsequently transferred Dao locally as governor of Tongzhou, extending honors as duke a year later. Dao likewise served the Jin after its conquest of Tang, the Jin monarch, Gaozu, naming him dignitary for public works with ministerial powers, honorary dignitary of education, and concurrent director of the Secretariat, while elevating his noble status to Duke of Lu. He ministered to Emperor Chu once Gaozu expired, receiving honors as grand marshal and Duke of Yan as noble rank; reassignment to the Kuangguo and later Weisheng governorships ensued.

Feng Dao even served the Khitan after they annihilated the Jin, meeting Yelü Deguang for audience in the capital. Deguang reprimanded him for a record of little distinction under Jin rule, and Dao was unable to defend himself. Deguang further inquired, “Why have you come for audience?” “I have no city to administer and no troops to command,” Dao told him. “Refusal is hardly an option!” Deguang now retorted in jest, “And what sort of Old Gentleman are you?” “An absent-minded Old Man bereft of talent or virtue” was his humble response. The words pleased Deguang, who named him Grand mentor. Dao followed Deguang upon his return north as far as Changshan, then reverted to the Han upon the accession of Gaozu, serving as grand preceptor with the prestige-rank of fengchaoqing. He further served the Zhou when it conquered Han, Taizu of Zhou honoring him as grand preceptor and concurrent palace secretary.

A youthful Feng Dao succeeded in making a name for himself by dint of contrived manners, and as high official, strove to impress others with his staid demeanor. Having served four royal houses and ten sovereigns, he increasingly presumed upon bygone merits to glorify himself. Yet courtiers of the age, the wise and witless alike, all celebrated Dao as senior statesman and heaped praises on him. Yelü Deguang once asked of him, “How are we to render assistance to commoners of the world?” Dao responded with a riddle, “Times like ours would be hard to salvage even for the Buddha, should he appear. Only a man like Your Majesty will do.” The Khitan decision not to exterminate subjects of the Middle Kingdom is uniformly attributed to the goodwill fostered by Dao through such deeds [of flattery].

As Zhou armies rebelled and invaded the capital, and with Emperor Yin already dead, Taizu expected support for his own enthronement from senior courtiers of Han. Feng Dao, however, expressed not the slightest interest during their encounter. Taizu had heretofore bowed to Dao and could not do otherwise now [without appearing presumptuous], but Dao treated the gesture as unremarkable. Taizu could only modify his plans, therefore, recognizing that the time was not ripe for supplanting Han rule. He thus publicly endorsed the enthronement of Prince Xiangyin, Liu Yun, as heir to the Han line, dispatching Dao to escort Yun back from Xuzhou¶. Yun had yet to arrive, however, when supporters in Taizu’s army rebelled during a journey northward to Chanzhou. He now supplanted Han rule. Having once thwarted Taizu in his ambitions, Dao tends by observers to be exonerated of complicity in the demise of the Jin and Han dynasties. Yet he never seemed especially upset at witnessing the death of rulers or the dissolution of empires.

In a world beleaguered by the universal chaos and alien invasion that gravely imperiled the fates of all living souls, Dao adopted “Old Man of Eternal Joy” as his style name. He even composed a letter of several hundred words celebrating service to four separate houses, plus the Khitan, only to find glory in the offices and titles acquired. “I have been filial to family and loyal to dynasty,” he proclaims, “and experienced being a son, brother, official, teacher, husband, and father, as well as begetter of sons and grandsons. In occasionally opening a tome or drinking a draft, but also in consuming food, savoring songs, or enjoying human beauty, I have always found contentment with the times. And with age, I find contentment within. What joy could be greater?” And so goes the language of his autobiography!

In his service to nine previous rulers, Dao never admonished or challenged them. Upon Shizong’s enthronement, however, as Liu Min [of Northern Han] campaigned against Shangdang, Shizong proposed, “Liu Min slights me for my youth, regarding my recent installation and formal mourning duties as virtual guarantee that I will not emerge for battle. Those adept at deploying armies must value the element of surprise: I should thus personally command a raid.” With Dao admonishing stridently against the action, Shizong added, “I have heard that Taizong of Tang, in pacifying the world, personally campaigned against all foes, great and small alike.” Dao now cautioned, “Your Majesty has not reached the point to invite comparisons with Tang Taizong!” The Emperor continued, “Should the vultures of Liu Min engage my soldiers, they will be crushed like eggs under a mountain,” to which Dao retorted, “And presumably Your Majesty will be the mountain that crushes them!” An angry Shizong arose to leave, eventually commanding the raid against Liu Min that vanquished him at Gaoping. Indeed, the martial awe of Shizong that culminated in acquiring the Southern Huai and Three Passes had its roots in the Gaoping victory. Out of contempt for Dao, Shizong thus refused to take him along once the offensive against Liu Min began; Dao was selected to represent the court at the mausoleum of Taizu instead. He died after completion of those burial rites, seventy-three years in age and given the posthumous title of “Literate and Worthy,” later to be ennobled Prince of Ying.

After his death, contemporaries all marveled that Dao lived to the same age as Confucius—such was the prevailing proclivity for praising him. Dao’s son was Ji.

Zheng Jue was a grandson of Zheng Qi, chief minister under the Tang. His father, Zheng Hui, once served as administrative assistant to the custodian of Henan, Zhang Quanyi. And a youthful Jue himself, through the favor of Quanyi, assumed residence in Henan. He failed successive doctoral examinations and secured the degree only after Quanyi impressed upon the relevant officials. An investigating censor during the reign of Zhaozong, Jue became left rectifier of palace documents after Taizu assumed the Liang throne. Further promotions ensued as drafter at the Palace Secretariat and Hanlin academician for communications, having been repeatedly recommended by senior Liang officials on intimate terms with Quanyi. Under Emperor Mo, he was named deputy director of the Imperial Secretariat with standing as chief minister.

Upon learning that Tang armies under Zhuangzong, approaching from Yunzhou, had already reached Bianzhou, a horrified Emperor Mo anguished over the appropriate response. He even wept aloud in the embrace of Li Zhen and Jing Xiang, then summoned Jue to weigh options. “I have only one plan, but do not know if Your Majesty is willing to implement it,” Jue stated. Emperor Mo inquired of the plan’s thrust, and he continued, “I would take the imperial seal for dynastic succession posthaste to the barracks of the Tang military, hoping to slow its advance while awaiting the arrival of relief troops.” To this the Emperor responded, “With matters so urgent, we surely should not cling to a seal. But will your scheme succeed?” Jue lowered his head in contemplation before admitting, “It will not be easy, I fear.” Those around him all burst into laughter.

As Zhuangzong entered Bianzhou, Jue led the throngs of officials in a reception on the left side of the road. He was exiled to revenues adjutant for Laizhou, then relocated closer as adjutant for Caozhou. And after Zhang Quanyi intervened with Guo Chongtao, Jue was summoned back to the capital as adviser to the heir-apparent. Mingzong, upon his accession, wanted Ren Huan as chief minister, but An Chonghui did not wish for the novice Huan to be sole minister, so he inquired of Kong Xun, the commissioner of military affairs. As former courtier of the Liang, Xun was on cordial terms with Jue, and spoke of his own ministry under the Liang and Jue’s proclivity to be cautious and mature. An appointment came as chief minister.

When Mingzong departed for Bianzhou, the dependents of men in the Six Armies were removed from Luoyang to Bian as well; once Mingzong expressed a desire to leave for the Ye capital, his soldiers were embittered as high officials spoke out. The Emperor failed to reconsider and uproar erupted at every level, conditions reaching near tumult. Jue alone spoke favorably of the trip. Zhao Feng made a desperate plea to An Chonghui, and he, alarmed, presented a forceful remonstrance in meeting the Emperor, who now announced suspension of the trip. Even then, Jue persevered, now praising the Emperor for his new decision to suspend the trip.

As chief minister, Jue seemed perpetually busy without achieving anything. He was also losing his hearing and grew unsettled by Kong Xun’s dismissal as commissioner of military affairs, promptly invoking illness as pretext for his own resignation. Mingzong persisted in trying to retain him, Jue submitting four petitions before the court authorized retirement as chief minister emeritus, conferring an estate at Zhengzhou. The posthumous title of dignitary for public works came with death.

Li Yu [d. C.E. 935] had the courtesy name Zihui and was native to Wudi County, Bohai. A man of staid dignity and few words, he loved learning and wrote in the classical style. The governor of Cangzhou, Lu Yanwei, named him magistrate’s assistant for Anling County, an appointment disrupted to mourn his mother. He was traveling the area within the Guanzhong passes when Liu Jishu confined Emperor Zhaozong to his eastern palace, prompting Yu to write Han Jian and enlist him in plans to revive the throne. His words were stunningly imposing in fortitude. Jian proved of little use, and Yu left him for Luoyang. He later won doctoral degree and erudite literatus honors to become adjutant for the Henan yamen, then left for Shandong following the calamity at Baima Post. On close personal terms with Li Yanguang, who had served Emperor Mo of Liang as classical expositor-in-waiting, Yu was repeatedly recommended by him and thereby won recall to the capital. Eventually, he rose to senior proofreader of documents and auxiliary Chongzheng academician.

Youliang, the Prince of Heng and elder brother of Emperor Mo, was acknowledged by senior Liang courtiers such as Li Zhen with the standard bow, save for a singular Yu, who insisted on an extended bow in his presence. The Emperor thus reprimanded him, saying, “I acknowledge the Prince of Heng with the informal bow. How can you alone bow extendedly?” But Yu countered, “Your Majesty views matters from the etiquette of family, such that the standard bow is appropriate. Your Subject, lacking personal ties to the Prince, can scarcely countenance so thoughtless an offense.” Coming under criticism for “indecent statements,” reassignment occurred as administrative assistant to the Dingzhou surveillance commissioner.

Li Yu was serving at court when the Tang Emperor Zhuangzong purged the Liang. The respect of leading officials of Tang familiar with him as classical scholar facilitated postings as gentleman at the Bureau of Receptions and Hanlin academician. As Jiji, the Prince of Wei, campaigned in Shu, he invited Li Yu to be administrative assistant to the generalissimo. Owing to the natural obstacles on the road to Shu, many advisors preferred to delay troops and advance only after local circumstances had changed. Commissioner of bandit suppression Guo Chongtao turned to Li Yu to decide, and he said, “The regime of Wang Yan, wreaking havoc on his kingdom through indolence, is hated by his people. We should exploit the prevailing confusion to storm sites without defenses. The advantage rests with speed and dallying will not do.” Chongtao embraced the idea, surrender occurring along his entire path as the Shu satrapy was annihilated. His armies had previously reached only Baoji [Qizhou‡] when an administrative assistant to Commissioner Guo, Chen Yi, pleaded illness as an excuse to stay behind. Li Yu asserted in a stern voice, “Chen Yi seeks to advance when seeing benefit and wishes to stop when sensing a challenge. Now, as our great army confronts serious impediments and men’s minds can easily waver, a summary beheading is wholly fitting!” Hereafter, no warrior dared propose staying behind again.

Promotions culminated in assignment as deputy director of communications at the Ministry of War upon the accession of Mingzong. When the Emperor sacrificed to Heaven at the southern suburbs, Li Yu drafted the rescript of special beneficence for chief ministers Feng Dao and Zhao Feng. The rescript’s wording seemed indecent to Dao, who reassigned Yu as director of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. After Ren Huan’s removal as minister,⁶ Yu became deputy director of the Palace Secretariat with ministerial powers. For his entire tenure, Yu never arranged his own official residence and rented space in a guesthouse instead. When he took ill, eunuchs sent personally by Mingzong out of concern found him lying on tattered rugs and mat, his four walls bare. Mingzong heaved a heavy sigh at the news and provided proper bedding for him.

The Prince of Lu later rebelled to invade the capital, as Emperor Min fled under the cover of night. Li Yu and Feng Dao went to the formal gate a day later to learn of the Emperor’s departure. Zhu Hongzhao and Feng Yun were already dead by now, so Yu wanted to proceed to the Palace Secretariat to await the Empress Dowager’s instructions on whether to go ahead, but Dao declared, “The Prince of Lu has publicized his cause everywhere and won the hearts of man. Having already arrived, why await instructions from the Empress Dowager?” The two men emerged from the city to greet him. After the Prince was installed as Emperor Fei, he reassigned Feng Dao locally as governor of Tongzhou. Replacing him as minister was Liu Xu, a man impetuous by nature. Li Yu was always stubborn and direct, the two thus often at odds. Moreover, Liu Xu’s marriage ties with Feng Dao’s family gave Li Yu cause for repeated ridicule, their mutual recrimination ending in reassignment for both men. Yu retained honors as acting minister.

With wars erupting and assorted incidents preoccupying the world, Yu aspired as minister to organize governance along ancient models. He thus petitioned for the Six Canons of Tang to be recited before the official multitudes and its principles implemented in their jobs: the ritual banquets in the village of examination graduates at the prefectural or county level, for example, could be dropped when deemed unconventional. Emperor Min aspired to orderly governance upon assuming power, often summoning academicians to discuss current affairs, yet, intuiting Yu as the pedantic sort, never bothered to address him. Emperor Fei also concluded that Yu and his cohort were unaccomplished in office, turning repeatedly to chief ministers to say, “They are nothing but gluttonous monks—stuffing their bellies all day while applying their minds to nothing!” Yu died of illness in the second year of Qingtai [C.E. 935].

Native to Guiyi County, Zhuozhou, Liu Xu [C.E. 885–944] was a man of elegant deportment, who along with older brother Xuan and younger brother Jiao, were renowned across Yanc and Ji‡ prefectures for their celebration of learning. He later served surveillance commissioner Wang Chuzhi of Dingzhou as legal administrator. Upon Chuzhi’s imprisonment by own son Wang Du and the assassination of Xu’s elder brother Xuan in a family vendetta, Xu sought sanctuary at Cangzhou.

Zhuangzong acceded the Tang throne and named Liu Xu erudite of ceremonials and Hanlin academician. Xu rose eventually to vice minister of war under Mingzong, who had long respected him and admired his refined bearing. He rose to Duanming academician, and in the third year of Changxing [C.E. 932], deputy director of the Palace Secretariat and concurrent minister of punishments with ministerial powers.⁷ Appearing at the doors of Zhongxing Hall to express gratitude, a major sacrifice happened to be underway that day, preempting audience, so Xu proceeded to Duanming Hall to do so. To rise from Duanming academician to chief minister was reckoned an honor in his day. The enthronement of Emperor Fei led to reassignment as minister of personnel and vice director at the Chancellery. Xu oversaw compilation of the national history as well.⁸

Soon after Emperor Fei’s accession, he asked Wang Mei, commissioner of the Three Fiscal Agencies, “How much cash is in our treasury?” Mei indicated “Several million strings.” But his insistence on allocating not even one-tenth of that sum to reward troops utterly infuriated the Emperor, who dismissed him and invested Xu with concurrent powers as fiscal administrator. A scrupulous man who detested the acute corruption and malpractices at the fiscal agencies, Xu made emendations to accounting registers based on actual conditions, while eliminating oppressive assessments and advance payments altogether. Administrative aides could once conceal without forwarding to superiors the sums acquired as tax advances, holding them back to solicit illegal bribes from prefectures and counties. Xu’s total eradication of such practices delighted the people, who considered him virtuous, although aides at the fiscal agencies resented such subversion.

Heretofore, Feng Dao and Liu Xu were related by marriage and served simultaneously as ministers. Once Dao was dismissed, his replacement, Li Yu‡, had long held Dao’s character in contempt. Upon detecting any mishandling of affairs, therefore, Yu‡ invariably exposed these to reprove Xu, “Your actions are taken on Dao’s behalf, your in-law!” Xu was disinclined to accommodate and forgive others, while Yu‡ proved relentlessly stubborn, giving rise to mutual recrimination. Secretaries and aides at the chief minister’s office resented the inflexibility of the two and all spoke openly of the conflict. Emperor Fei dismissed both men after realizing the problem, demoting Xu to right associate at the Secretariat. Administrators of the Three Fiscal Agencies, having assembled that day outside the Yuehua gate carrying seals of office, welcomed news of Xu’s dismissal with outbursts of celebration, pronouncing, “We are at last without care!”

As chief minister, Liu Xu proved ignorant of ceremony and precedent. In the wake of Mingzong’s death, chamberlain for ceremonials Cui Jujian should by convention have been appointed master of funeral ceremonies; he declined because his grandfather’s personal name was Li. Feng Dao thus named him director of the Palace, causing a dispirited Jujian to be negligent in office. The reassignment notice by Secretariat drafter Li Xiang employed the words, “His heart grew anxious after learning of the taboo name,” words abruptly revised by Xu to read, “He had a sense of shame and rectitude.” The change led Jujian to complain, “We have standard rules and regulations when a personal name contravenes some taboo. What offense have I committed?” Men of the day who learned of the incident circulated the story in jest.

On another occasion Liu Xu was associate at the Secretariat when rain fell as courtiers approached for audience, so the official formation moved to a shaded corridor. Administrative aides from the Censorate now guided Secretariat associates for placement after deputy censors. Xu asked the aides about the relevant precedent, but no one from chief ministers to officers of the three departments knew for sure. Dao had been dismissed as minister by then and held the rank of dignitary for public works. Since the Sui and Tang dynasties, the three dignitaries had had no official function and received no special accommodation in audience. Once Dao became dignitary, he asked the relevant authorities about his proper place in the official lineup, and again, no one knew. In consequence, he did not enter the audience chamber, but waited for Censorate and Department officers to enter, then followed chief ministers in leaving. Xu became associate at the Secretariat after removal as minister, like Feng Dao himself, so he followed Dao both in and out of audience. Court authorities by now could not correct things even through censure, and many a court observer secretly scoffed at them.

When Zhang Congbin rebelled in the reign of Gaozu of Jin, murdering imperial son Chongyi at Luoyang, he named Liu Xu interim custodian of the eastern capital and administrator of salt and iron. In the Kaiyun era, Xu received honors as dignitary for public works with ministerial powers, serving again at the Three Fiscal Agencies as administrator. Owing to problems with eyesight, he was dismissed from office once the Khitan invaded the capital, then honored as grand guardian. He died the same year at sixty sui.

Assuming duties and meeting court officials before the Censorate, aides formally acknowledged communications representatives for the governors waiting to congratulate him. Wenji questioned the reasons for such a protocol and aides responded, “At the Tang court at Changan, communications representatives treated senior and junior censors like mere scribes. And after the decline of dynastic power and evisceration of the Tang throne, after the waxing of local overlords and waning of the civil service, the court indulged the governors by coddling their visiting representatives at court. As senior and junior censors addressed court affairs, communications officers of the governors were sent to guest rooms, their names announced while tea and wine were lavished on them, without ever meeting the censors. This has persisted to become precedent.” Wenji interjected, “My modest virtues do not permit repeal of longstanding protocol!” He subsequently directed an aide to apprise the representatives, who clamored to leave, yet entered for a meeting grudgingly. Wenji leaned against his recliner to adjust his official staff, as Censorate personnel recited the names and announced bows to him. The anger and indignation of the communications officers were difficult to contain as they departed, complaining to An Chonghui, the commissioner of military affairs. “I know nothing of precedent, although you may take your complaint to the court,” he said. They went in unison to the auxiliary palace hoping to air their grievance. Mingzong hence inquired of chief minister Zhao Feng, “What other groups of regional officials are comparable to communications representatives?” “Couriers or liaisons for prefectures and counties,” was Feng’s response. Mingzong then retorted, “Mere minor aides. How dare they insult my censors!” He ordered beatings with heavy rod before releasing them for home. Wenji also requested a systematic restoration of rules to evaluate officials in and away from court, with commanders and ministerial-level officials examined by the Son of Heaven personally. The reform won court endorsement, but officials were never examined, in the end. Wenji became minister of public works a year or so later.

Frictions between Lu Wenji and chief minister Cui Xie were longstanding, making him all the more livid when Xie appointed Yu Ye vice minister of public works, a man whose personal name sounded like his own father’s name. When Ye went to bureau offices to confer with superiors, Wenji declined a meeting and requested successive absences for himself. Later, Ye’s assignment orders were still pending when Wenji emerged to conduct business. An embittered Ye consequently got drunk and hanged himself, causing Wenji to be banished to manager-adjutant at Shizhou.

After some time, Wenji became director at the Palace Library and chamberlain for ceremonials. Serving as emissary to the Shu region, he passed through Fengxiang, where the future Emperor Fei was governor. Wenji’s poised physical presence and lucid diction convinced Fei of his rare talent. Once installed as Emperor, Fei wished to name a chief minister and inquired of his aides, who universally agreed, “Wenji and Yao Yi are both held in high regard.” Emperor Fei then wrote on strips of paper the names of all officials famed for their honesty and placed these inside a glass bowl, burning incense that night to invoke Heaven. Grabbing one strip with his chopsticks, the name of Wenji appeared on the first draw, so he confidently named him chief minister and deputy director of the Palace Secretariat.

In a world then beset with many problems, Emperor Fei often had to impose upon Wenji, who consequently requested elimination of the “rise and repose audiences” [qiju] every five days, returning instead to Tang traditions, while opening the Yanying hall to facilitate more informal discussion of the world’s affairs. Emperor Fei noted that the “rise and repose audiences” every five days had enabled Mingzong to see his officials informally, so their suspension was unacceptable. Moreover, informality was also possible at adjacent chambers, such that convening at the Yanying hall was unnecessary. He instructed chief ministers wishing to discuss affairs beyond regular audience hours to appear at the auxiliary palace gate, when convenient.

Once Gaozu of Jin rebelled at Taiyuan, Emperor Fei led a northern expedition and stopped at the Hui mausoleum en route. Now resting at the barracks for his bodyguard, he looked to Wenji and asked, “I have known you since my days at Fengxiang and never treated you like ordinary men. Since your tenure as minister, my inquiries about current affairs have invariably met with your assertions of a great peace at hand. Having led me down this path today, how do you now explain yourself?” Nervous and afraid, Wenji sought clemency by confessing his crimes. Once Emperor Fei reached Heyang, Wenji urged him to hold firm in defending the bridge, but he did not listen. Gaozu’s accession to the Jin throne resulted in Wenji’s demotion to minister of personnel and eventually Grand preceptor to the heir-apparent prior to retirement. He received honors at home as dignitary for public works after the enthronement of Taizu of Zhou, dying in his home at seventy-six sui. The court conferred the posthumous title dignitary for education.

With courtesy name of Zhaofu, Liu Yue was native to Luoyang and an eighth-generation descendant of Liu Zhenghui, the minister of revenues in Tang times. His uncles included Chonggui and Chongwang. As scion of a famous family, Yue was fond of learning and sensitive to the written word, in addition to his skills as interlocutor. Recipient of the doctoral degree, he served the Liang as left-proof reader at the Chancellery and attending censor. He rose to Hanlin academician under Emperor Mo and eventually became vice minister of war.

Demoted to manager-adjutant to the Junzhou governor after the Liang demise, Liu Yue was later restored as supervisor over the heir-apparent’s household, becoming vice minister of personnel under Mingzong of Tang. By precedent, the Ministry of Personnel’s notification of office for civil and military appointees invariably involved tendering rolled paper money with vermilion imprint before delivering the document. Men of high rank and social station thereby received the proclamations, but the poor, unable to tender money, often got only the imperial letter of appointment, with no formal proclamation. In a tumultuous age like the Five Dynasties, such malpractices became normal such that officials of lesser station no longer received the proclamation of office: the Palace Secretariat merely recorded the words of the court’s assignment orders for storage in edict albums. Yu proposed the following change, “The words of a court order sometimes mention the nominee’s exceptional talent, sometimes cite his achievements, or even at times include instructions or admonitions. Those appointees who do not receive the proclamation will never know the basis for the assignment, for the mandate does not contain the words of their king. I request that everything be given them.” Yue thus inaugurated the practice of giving proclamations to all officials.

Chief minister Feng Dao came from generations of farmers to till the land, his physical appearance plain and unkempt such that many courtiers reviled him as vulgar. He once approached the court, trailed closely by Liu Yue and Ren Zan, the vice minister of war. Dao looked back repeatedly as he walked, prompting Zan to ask of Yue, “Why does Dao look back?” “He simply misplaced his Manual for a Rabbit Garden,” Yue responded. The manual is recited by rustic Confucians in rural schools to teach farmers and herders of animals. Yue’s comment was intended as ridicule of Dao, who was utterly livid after learning of it and demoted him to Palace Library director. Later, with Li Yu‡ as chief minister, Yue received advancement to chamberlain for ceremonials.

Previously, Zheng Yuqing had gathered writings on techniques for interpreting auspicious and inauspicious omens for officials and commoners of the Tang, subsuming these under the family rituals for the age as part of a two-volume Book on Ceremonies. Mingzong noticed that the book included advice on “restoration to office” and “marrying dead persons,” prompting him to say with alarm, “Confucians should exalt filial piety and fraternal devotion, rectifying customs of the day. Why must they be concerned with ‘restoration to office’ when not [indispensable] as men of war? Moreover, marriage is an auspicious ritual. It should scarcely be employed for the dead!” He ordered Yue to recruit literati with broad learning in ancient and modern times to produce a revised version. Yue assisted men like Duan Yong and Tian Min, erudites of ceremonials, in selecting source material to include. Their concerns related to rustic customs, however, and the customs of contemporary families toward sons and daughters, where the original essence was often missing; nonetheless, the work reflects a legacy of the rituals of the time. Once lost to posterity, it became all the more impossible to investigate the evolution of such practices. Especially without foundation in the classics were legends about receiving relatives during the wedding ceremony or sitting a bride on the groom’s saddle with their hair joined. Families of officials tended to venerate such practices, and after a long time, perverted them so outrageously as to be utterly ludicrous. Such cases are countless.

Dying in office at fifty-six sui, Liu Yue was posthumously named minister of personnel. His son was Liu Wensou.

WE PROFOUNDLY LAMENT. Men are fond of practicing the rites. When the rites are not displayed on high, the people are left without an appreciation of their essence. But when unorthodox customs are passed down, the people will cling to their practice all the same. The Five Dynasties, an age of war-induced turmoil, had precious little time to lavish on the rites. Moreover, Mingzong was a man of war who hailed from barbarian stock: without possessing a full command of the written language, he nonetheless aspired to acquaint the people with the rites. Liu Yue and cohort, eminent Confucians of the day, ultimately discovered nothing new, making mere emendations to existing works. Yet in later generations, writers on auspicious or inauspicious omens for officials and commoners invariably took Yue’s work as their model, even though he lost three or four out of ten relevant works. My sorrow is indescribable!