In 256 BCE, the Qin state was preparing to attack Zhao, and with their army pressing the border, the ministers of Zhao were discussing countermeasures. One solution was to seek aid from Qi, but Qi demanded that Lord Chang’an of Zhao be sent as a hostage. Lord Chang’an was the beloved son of the Zhao Dowager, who held considerable power at the time. She resolutely refused to send her son to Qi, rejecting all counsel and creating a stalemate. At this point, a persuader named Chu Long went to see the Dowager. The following passage, excerpted from the Strategies of the Warring States, offers one of the most famous episodes of political persuasion in the Warring States period.
Dowager Zhao had just taken charge, and Qin was attacking Zhao urgently. The Zhao clan sought help from Qi, and Qi said, “Lord Chang’an must be taken as a hostage, then the troops will be dispatched.” The Dowager refused, and the ministers strongly advised her. The Dowager clearly said to her attendants, “Whoever mentions Lord Chang’an as a hostage again, I will spit in his face.”
The Left Master, Chu Long, said he wished to see her, and the Dowager Zhao received him with great anger. He entered and walked slowly, and upon arriving, he apologized, saying, “This old minister has a foot ailment and cannot walk quickly, and I have not been able to see you for a long time. I have been excusing myself, but I am afraid that there may be something wrong with Your Majesty’s health, so I wish to see you.” The Dowager said, “I rely on a carriage to move about.” He said, “Has your daily food and drink declined?” She said, “I rely on porridge.” He said, “This old minister does not want to eat these days, but I force myself to walk three or four 里 a day, which slightly increases my appetite and is good for my health.” She said, “I cannot do that.” The Dowager’s expression softened slightly.
The Left Master said, “This old minister has a humble son, Shu Qi, who is the youngest and unworthy, but as I am old, I secretly love and pity him. I wish to have him fill a position among the black-clothed guards to protect the palace. I report this at the risk of my life.” The Dowager said, “I respectfully agree. How old is he?” He replied, “He is fifteen years old. Although he is young, I wish to entrust him before he fills a ditch.” The Dowager said, “Do men also love their youngest sons?” He replied, “More than women.” The Dowager laughed and said, “Women are very different.” He replied, “This old minister secretly believes that Your Majesty’s love for the Princess of Yan is greater than for Lord Chang’an.” She said, “You are wrong! It is not as great as for Lord Chang’an.” The Left Master said, “Parents who love their children plan far ahead for them. When Your Majesty sent off the Princess of Yan, you held her heel and wept for her, saddened by her departure and grieving for her. Even after she left, you did not stop thinking of her, and during sacrifices, you would surely pray for her, saying, ‘Be sure not to let her return.’ Is this not a long-term plan, so that your descendants may succeed as kings?” The Dowager said, “Yes.”
The Left Master said, “Now, for the three generations before, as for the Zhao that is Zhao, among the descendants of the kings of Zhao who were enfeoffed as marquises, are there any who have successors?” She said, “None.” He said, “Not only Zhao, are there any among the feudal lords who have successors?” She said, “I have not heard of any.” “This is because the misfortune befalls them in the near term, and extends to their descendants in the long term. Is it that the descendants of rulers are necessarily not good? They hold high positions without merit, receive generous stipends without labor, and possess many important treasures. Now, Your Majesty honors Lord Chang’an’s position and enfeoffs him with fertile land, giving him many important treasures, but you do not order him to perform meritorious service for the state now. Once the mountains and rivers collapse, how will Lord Chang’an support himself in Zhao? This old minister thinks that Your Majesty’s plan for Lord Chang’an is short-sighted, so I believe that your love for him is not as great as for the Princess of Yan.” The Dowager said, “Alright, let him be at your disposal.”
Therefore, she prepared a hundred chariots for Lord Chang’an to be a hostage in Qi, and the Qi troops were then dispatched.
Zi Yi [a worthy man from Zhao] heard of this and said, “Even the son of a ruler, a close relative by blood, cannot rely on a position of honor without merit or a generous stipend without labor to protect his wealth of gold and jade; how much less so a subject?”
Secondary Source: On the People as the Root
Traditional China is often portrayed as a paternalistic society where commoners were recipients of the monarch’s and elite’s generosity, not active political participants. This hierarchical and monarchical political culture seemingly precluded grassroots political activity. Yet, popular protests were frequent during dynastic transitions and even legitimized in traditional political thought. The philosopher Xunzi epitomizes this consensus: The ruler is a boat; commoners are the water. The water can carry the boat; the water can capsize the boat, as he argues.
In the following excerpt, historian Yuri Pines explores the concept of “the people as the root” (minben 民本) and its importance in Chinese history.
This respect for the people’s political role, and repeated calls for the leaders to “attain the people’s heart,” may convey the misconception that preimperial Chinese political thought contained the seeds of democracy. It did not, though. In what appears at first glance as a paradox, not a single thinker from among those who advocated “listening to the people” ever proposed any institutional arrangements that would allow the people to voice their opinions on government affairs. Even the modest tradition of popular assemblies from the Springs-and-Autumns period had been all but forgotten, never becoming a full-fledged participatory mechanism. The rulers were urged to address the people’s sentiments without being provided with any institutional means of learning what these were! This apparent lapse of the Warring States–period thinkers is not incidental, of course. It reflects deeply ingrained intellectual elitism, which made the “superior men” disdainful of unmediated political views voiced by the morally and intellectually impaired “petty men.” Thus Confucius claimed, “When the Way prevails in the country, the commoners do not debate [politics]”; while Mengzi explained: “Some toil with their hearts, some toil with their force. Heart-toilers rule men; force-toilers are ruled by men. . . . This is the common propriety of All-under-Heaven.”10 It seems, then, that thinkers preferred to speak on the people’s behalf and in their stead. Hence, during the imperial millennia, while the rulers were repeatedly reminded of the importance of listening to the people, any practical means of ascertaining “public opinion”—from collecting popular songs to the complaint system—invariably reinforced the position of the educated elite as representatives of popular sentiments. […]
The paradoxical coexistence of declared respect for the people’s sentiments and practical exclusion of the lower strata from political processes inadvertently contributed to the proliferation of what may be called the “protest culture” in China, including the most powerful manifestation of protest—rebellion. A variety of protest activities—from absconding from one’s village or fleeing from the battlefield, to assaulting tax collectors or openly rebelling against the authorities—were the only meaningful outlet through which the commoners could make their sentiments known to the power-holders. These activities were unlawful, to be sure, and their participants faced grave consequences. Yet insofar as “the people” were unanimously treated as the polity’s “root,” and insofar as their mood was considered the primary determinant of the regime’s legitimacy, widespread protest activities were indicative in the eyes of elites and commoners alike of Heaven’s disapproval of local power-holders, or, worse, of the ruling house. Thus protest, and even rebellion, while illegal, were legitimated, politically speaking, by the very fact of their occurrence.
An additional, more direct source of the rebels’ legitimacy was the concept of “righteous rebellion,” yet another paradox in Chinese political thought. In China’s rigidly monarchistic political culture, violent insubordination was not supposed to be an option for the subjects; and yet the right to overthrow a vicious tyrant was firmly incorporated into the theory of monarchism […]. Associated with the paradigmatic overthrow of the Shang by the Zhou dynasty, the single most important event in early Chinese history, the concept of righteous rebellion became an inalienable part of China’s political tradition. It provided future rebels with an ideal ideological justification for their action. […]
Neither Mengzi nor Xunzi wrote “for the masses”; their views concerning legitimate rebellion were aimed at warning the rulers rather than providing future mutineers with ideological justifications. However, the concept of “righteous rebellion” eventually proliferated throughout society and became a powerful weapon in the hands of insurrectionaries. Countless rebel movements of varying ideological affiliations routinely claimed Heaven’s support, and the adjective “Heavenly” or “approved by Heaven” (tian) became the most common element of the rebel leaders’ self-appellations. Thus these leaders clearly appealed to the common denominator of Chinese political culture: the belief in the justifiability of insurrection against an unrighteous regime. It appears, in sum, that Meadows’s observation was quite accurate: the right to rebel was indeed ingrained in the Chinese political tradition—and it was the only “right” through which the oppressed and the dispossessed could gain some leverage vis-à-vis the ruling elites.
Multimedia Source: Nezha
Nezha is a popular deity in Chinese Buddhist stories. In the novel Investiture of the Gods, Nezha’s appearance is striking: he is born with golden rings around his wrists and a red sash around his waist. At the age of seven, he unintentionally kills the son of the Dragon King. The Dragon King, enraged, demands justice from Nezha’s father, Li Jing. To avoid implicating his parents, Nezha commits suicide. Moved by the plight of Nezha’s wandering soul, the immortal Taiyi Zhenren fashions a body for him out of lotus leaves, allowing him to be reborn. Later, Nezha and his father both become deities, vanquishing demons and monsters.
Nezha’s prototype originates from the Indian Buddhist guardian deity, the third prince of the Four Heavenly Kings, Vaishravana. Vaishravana was introduced to the Tang Dynasty by the Tantric monk Amoghavajra and others, becoming a war god in the military. During the same period, Li Jing, a prominent military figure in the early Tang Dynasty, was also deified. By the Song Dynasty, Vaishravana and Li Jing had merged into one, becoming the “Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King” (托塔李天王), with Nezha as his son. During the Tang and Song dynasties, the Buddhist story of Nezha “dismembering his flesh to return to his mother, breaking his bones to return to his father” emerged, symbolizing the transcendence of the spirit over the physical body. Su Zhe’s poem “Ode to Nezha” includes the line, “The Northern Heavenly King has a mad son, who only knows to worship Buddha and not his father. Buddha knows he is too foolish to be taught, so he makes his father hold a pagoda in his left hand.” This illustrates how Nezha’s story had transitioned from Buddhist principles to secular tales, with his rebellious nature and strained relationship with his father already taking shape.
The most significant modern adaptation of Nezha is the 1979 animated film Nezha Conquers the Dragon King. The film portrays Nezha and the Dragon King as opposing forces, with the “common people” appearing as victims. Nezha, as a hero, eliminates the dragon Ao Bing for the sake of the people but is subsequently sentenced to death. Li Jing’s image turns negative: as an official, he claims to act for the country and the people but is, in reality, cowardly and fearful of authority, offering no support for his son’s righteous actions and even abandoning him. Nezha dies to save the people of Chentang Pass and, after his resurrection, battles the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas, relieving the suffering of the people. After his resurrection, Nezha does not seek revenge on Li Jing; instead, before committing suicide (rather than dismembering himself), he calls out to his “master” – an external spiritual father.
In 2025, the Chinese film market witnessed another adaptation of Ne Zha, grossing over 5 billion RMB during the Spring Festival period. This adaptation, the most radical to date, rewrites the themes of destiny and familial discord, transforming them into a narrative of family members working together to defy fate. The film establishes three realms – demons, immortals, and humans – and revolves around Nezha’s refusal to submit to the destiny: “My fate is in my own hands, not Heaven’s.” He embarks on a journey to save the Dragon King’s son, Ao Bing’s life and encounters various trials in the process of obtaining immortal status, inadvertently exposing the hypocrisy of those considered righteous in heaven. Instead of being a villain in the 1979 adaptation, Ao Guang, the Dragon King of the East Sea, suppresses the sea demons, believing that obedience will ensure safety, yet he cannot escape his fate. Ultimately, with the support of all the oppressed, Nezha challenges authority and defeats the immortals in heaven. In the end, Ao Guang, who desires his son to succeed, no longer overprotects him but allows him to join Nezha in trying to change the world: “If there is no road ahead, I will forge one; if the heavens do not allow it, I will reverse this universe.”
You will now watch excerpts from the 1979 and 2025 adaptations of Nezha. The first depicts the breakdown in relationship between Ne Zha and his father Li Jing after the former subdued the dragon king. The second is the trailer to the 2025 adaptation, Nezha 2: The Demon Boy Churns the Sea.
Clip 1: Nezha Conquers the Dragon King (1979) Watch from 32:26 to 41:12
Clip 2: Nezha 2: The Demon Boy Churns the Sea (2025)