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Wang Yun sat steadily beneath the ornate canopy of his carriage, escorted by sixteen Imperial Guards—eight in front and eight behind—as they moved slowly through the streets.
Han Dynasty carriages came in many varieties, and the one Wang Yun rode in resembled an oversized armchair. From behind, a curved canopy extended overhead, shielding him from the elements. At the front of the carriage stood the ceremonial staff symbolizing his position as Minister over the Masses.
During the Han Dynasty, the Three Excellencies often served as scapegoats for the emperor. It was a peculiar political phenomenon of the era that the Three Excellencies—the Grand Commandant, Minister over the Masses, and Minister of Works—were frequently dismissed due to natural disasters or celestial anomalies.
This belief stemmed largely from Dong Zhongshu's expansion of the theory of the "Mandate of Heaven and Human Response", which linked the emperor's virtue to the natural order. According to this doctrine, if the ruler was morally upright, the heavens would bless the land with favorable weather and bountiful harvests. Conversely, moral failings would bring about natural calamities. As Dong Zhongshu once said:
"When a state is about to lose the Way, Heaven first sends disasters as a warning. If the ruler does not reflect upon himself, Heaven then sends strange and ominous signs to frighten him. If he still does not change, ruin will follow."
Originally, Dong Zhongshu's intention was to impose some restraint on the unchecked power of the emperor—to "humble the ruler and exalt Heaven." While this mechanism initially had some effect, over time, its influence waned. Emperors increasingly refused to accept personal blame for disasters.
In the early Han Dynasty, the Chancellor (丞相) stood above the Three Excellencies and thus bore the brunt of responsibility. However, once the position of Chancellor was abolished, the Three Excellencies became the primary scapegoats. During Emperor Ling's reign alone, the Three Excellencies were dismissed twenty-four times due to natural disasters.
Thus, without real power, the Three Excellencies were little more than empty titles waiting to take the fall. Only by wielding genuine authority could one truly experience the prestige of the position.
And Wang Yun was now doing exactly that.
As Minister over the Masses, with control over the Imperial Secretariat (尚书台), he was savoring the sweetness of true power.
Yet, beneath this sweetness, Wang Yun couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. No one could guarantee perpetual success. In recent years, even the mighty General-in-Chief He Jin had risen to the pinnacle of power, only to be swiftly cut down and overthrown—like snow melting under the scorching sun. For all its grandeur, his regime had proven fragile.
To avoid such a fate, one needed to learn from the Yuan family of Runan.
Wang Yun had to admit that the Yuans had mastered this art. Yuan Wei, in particular, was a prime example. Nowadays, among the scholars and officials of the eastern provinces, it was easier to count those who had no ties to the Yuan family than those who did.
Why was it that others could only hold the position of the Three Excellencies briefly, while the Yuans produced multiple generations of high ministers? The difference lay right here.
When will the Wang clan of Taiyuan rise to become one of the great aristocratic families of the realm, like the Yuans of Runan?
Wang Yun's hand rested lightly on the armrest of his carriage. His eyes narrowed slightly, and the corners of his lips curled upward in a faint smile—an expression he habitually wore to appear amiable and approachable. He was accustomed to contemplating matters behind this mask, just as he was now. Though he seemed to be gazing ahead, his attention was actually fixed on the ceremonial staff at the front of his carriage.
Suddenly, a flash of crimson entered his vision, so vivid it almost stung his eyes. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was Lü Bu, Marquis of Wen, mounted on his legendary steed, the Red Hare.
As a marquis, a General of the Household (中郎将), and a high-ranking military officer, Lü Bu was not required to dismount like commoners. Instead, like other officials of lower rank, he simply moved aside to let Wang Yun's procession pass.
A thought suddenly struck Wang Yun.
The Yuan family had recently leveraged the influence of the eastern scholar-officials to amass troops at Suanzao. Moreover, they had dispatched their two sons—one to the south and one to the north—to take control of military and administrative affairs.
The Wang clan of Taiyuan, in comparison, lacked such deep-rooted influence. Wang Yun himself had no subordinates capable of standing on their own as independent leaders.
This was my own oversight—I failed to cultivate talent in advance. But it's not too late to mend the fold after the sheep have escaped…
With a light tap on the carriage, Wang Yun signaled the driver to slow down slightly.
As the carriage drew near Lü Bu, Wang Yun tilted his head slightly, as if noticing him for the first time, and gave a faint nod of acknowledgment.
Lü Bu, though puzzled by the sudden courtesy from the Minister over the Masses, returned the gesture with a respectful salute from horseback.
The wheels of the carriage rumbled over the stone-paved road as the procession moved on. Though Lü Bu found the interaction odd, he thought little of it and continued leisurely on his way home.
Just as he reached his residence, a servant in plain blue robes—appearing to be from some official household—stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Is this the Marquis of Wen before me?"
"I am he. And who are you?" Lü Bu scrutinized the servant but found no identifying insignia on his clothing, making it impossible to discern his master's identity.
The servant retrieved a letter from his sleeve and presented it with both hands.
"A letter from my master, for the Marquis's perusal…"
Frowning, Lü Bu did not immediately take it.
"Who is your master?"
The servant raised the letter slightly higher and replied softly,
"My master instructed that if the Marquis should ask, I need only say: 'The one beneath the canopy.'"
"The one beneath the canopy?" Lü Bu murmured, his eyes widening in realization. He snatched the letter and discovered that it contained not only a sheet of paper but also a small wooden token.
Unfolding the letter, he found only a single line of text:
"In my youth, I once visited Jiuyuan. Galloping across the plains was a joy I'll never forget. Now that I am old, the memories of Jiuyuan's landscapes have grown faint. Should the Marquis find the time, might I trouble you to share some tales of your homeland?"
The signature read simply: Taiyuan.
Taiyuan?
Ah—the man beneath the canopy today was from Taiyuan!
Lü Bu flipped the letter over but found nothing else. As for the wooden token, it looked familiar—likely a marker from a tavern in the Eastern Market.
During the Han Dynasty, taverns often issued such tokens as proof of reservation, especially for unfamiliar patrons, to avoid disputes.
This particular tavern was renowned for its Green Ant Wine and Golden Nectar Wine. Lü Bu was a frequent visitor—after all, with his wife not yet in the capital, dining at home grew monotonous. Occasionally, he preferred to dine out, enjoying good wine and the company of courtesans.
On the back of the token was carved a single character: "Shen" (申). Nothing more.
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