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Hearing of Sun Jian's death in Chang'an, Dong Zhuo laughed heartily and arrogantly proclaimed, "I have removed a thorn in my side! From now on, Jiangdong will be no concern." He then asked those around him, "How old is Sun Jian's son now?" Someone replied, "It is said he is only seventeen." Dong Zhuo scoffed at this and waved his hand dismissively, saying, "A mere boy, not worth mentioning! From now on, when you speak of Jiangdong, do not trouble my ears."
After that, Dong Zhuo became even more unrestrained, declaring himself "Shang Fu," and he entered and exited with the trappings of the emperor, flaunting his power. No one in the court dared to speak out against him, which only fueled his arrogance. He appointed his brother Dong Min as Left General and Marquis of Hu, and his nephew Dong Huang as Waiting for the Result, giving them control over the imperial guards. The Dong clan, regardless of age, were all made lords, their power soaring to great heights.
To solidify his authority, Dong Zhuo ordered the construction of Maiwu two hundred fifty miles outside Chang'an, forcing two hundred fifty thousand laborers to work on it. The walls of Maiwu were tall and thick, rivaling those of Chang'an itself. Inside were luxurious palaces and massive granaries stocked with enough provisions for twenty years. Dong Zhuo selected eight hundred beautiful maidens from the common folk to reside within, where they sang and danced daily amidst mountains of gold and jewels, creating a paradise on earth.
Every day in Chang'an, the officials trembled in fear as they awaited orders. Whenever Dong Zhuo left the city for Maiwu, his entourage was grandiose; all the officials knelt outside the gates to send him off. Anyone who dared to look up would risk their lives.
In Maiwu, Dong Zhuo indulged like a king. Surrounded by opulence in his Golden Inlaid Jade palace, he pointed at a map and told his confidant Li Ru, "The world is settled; I only seek to enjoy this life. Who can shake me even a little?" Li Ru replied softly, "The Chancellor is wise; both domestically and abroad, all are intimidated. There is nothing to fear. I only hope the Chancellor remains vigilant against treachery." Hearing this, Dong Zhuo laughed dismissively and raised his cup to drink more deeply from his glory.
Such wantonness created a stark contrast between the luxury within Maiwu and the suffering in Chang'an. The citizens there looked pale and gaunt, often resorting to eating grass roots to stave off hunger while Maiwu shone brightly with lights and music every night. The resentment among the people spread quietly like fire, yet no one dared to voice their grievances.
Dong Zhuo often set up large tents by the roadside to invite officials and wealthy men for wild feasting. One day as he exited through the horizontal gate, all the officials greeted him respectfully while kneeling on the ground; not even a speck of dust dared to rise in the wind. Upon reaching Maiwu, Dong Zhuo suddenly felt inspired and ordered a banquet set up in the tent to "share joy" with his ministers. The officials had no choice but to smile and take their seats; none dared utter a word of disrespect.
As they drank merrily, news arrived that several hundred defectors from the north had surrendered. Dong Zhuo set down his cup with a cold laugh: "Those who surrender are useless; if they cannot serve the country, then let them serve my revelry!" His voice thundered as he commanded his subordinates to bring the defectors before him.
"Bring someone out for entertainment!" he laughed heartily and waved his hand in command. Soon after, several strong men dragged one defector before the ministers and roughly pushed him down. With a flash of steel, the defector's right hand was severed, blood spraying like a fountain onto the ground. His screams pierced everyone's ears but only elicited more laughter from Dong Zhuo.
"Boring! Bring something new!" he commanded while pointing at another defector with a manic grin in his eyes. "Dig out his eyes! Let him not see this beautiful scene!" Two soldiers rushed forward with rusty knives and brutally gouged out the defector's eyes. He writhed on the ground in agony as his screams echoed like cries from hell. Dong Zhuo raised his cup and asked Li Ru beside him with a smile: "Doesn't that sound like crows cawing?"
Li Ru bowed his head respectfully: "The Chancellor is indeed clever; it is truly amusing." His tone was respectful but could not hide the cold sweat trickling down his forehead. The other officials at the table had long since held their breath in fear of provoking Dong Zhuo with even a single movement.
However, this was just the beginning. Dong Zhuo ordered a large pot brought forth and placed over fierce flames filled with boiling water before tossing another defector into it. The water bubbled violently as the defector's flesh curled up under heat; his screams were like knives cutting through sanity itself—several soldiers could not help but turn away. Yet Dong Zhuo continued tapping on the table with chopsticks leisurely saying: "This delightful event cannot distract you! Fill my cup again!"
In the banquet hall, the sounds of wailing, crackling flames, and Dong Zhuo's laughter intertwined to create a hellish scene that left everyone gasping for breath. No matter how exquisite the dishes on the table were, they now turned the stomach. The ministers trembled slightly, their hands shaking as they held their chopsticks weakly, only able to echo in quivering voices, "The Prime Minister is wise; he truly commands respect across the land."
Dong Zhuo laughed heartily, his gaze sweeping over the rigid faces of those present, seemingly satisfied that no one dared to challenge his authority. He stood up and raised his cup, proclaiming loudly, "Today is a joyous occasion! Let us drink together for the eternal glory of the Han Dynasty!"
Dong Zhuo hosted a banquet at the provincial hall, with officials seated on either side. The atmosphere was oppressive, and the clinking of wine cups mixed with faint laughter created an especially desolate ambiance. Dong Zhuo sat at the head of the table, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. Occasionally, he would lift his cup for a sip of wine, a cryptic smile lingering on his face. Just as he was enjoying his drink, Lü Bu entered clad in armor, striding quickly with a cold gaze before whispering a few words in Dong Zhuo's ear.
Dong Zhuo set down his cup, a glint of murderous intent flashing in his eyes before he burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the hall. He nodded at Lü Bu, speaking in a light-hearted tone as if merely inviting someone to share a joke: "I see. Fengxian, do me a small favor."
Lü Bu accepted the order without hesitation; his eyes sharp as blades fixed on Minister Zhang Wen. Zhang Wen looked puzzled and half-rose to bow but was abruptly seized by Lü Bu by the collar and dragged roughly out of the hall. Zhang Wen screamed, "Prime Minister, spare me! Prime Minister, spare me!" His voice was heart-wrenching, reverberating through the banquet hall. The officials listened in terror as their wine cups slipped from their hands and nearly crashed onto the table.
Dong Zhuo remained composed and raised his cup toward everyone: "Gentlemen, there is no need to panic. Just sit back, enjoy your fine wine, and witness a little performance." His tone was gentle yet laced with an endless coldness.
Before long, footsteps echoed from outside as a servant entered carrying a red lacquer tray. On it lay Zhang Wen's severed head! Zhang Wen's eyes were wide open, lips slightly parted as if still frozen in fear from his last moments. Blood dripped slowly from the edge of the tray, staining the carpet red.
The officials were paralyzed with horror, their faces pale as paper, heads bowed so low they nearly touched the table. Some trembled uncontrollably; their lips moved but they dared not speak. Dong Zhuo pointed at the tray and calmly said, "This man, Zhang Wen, had the audacity to conspire with Yuan Shu and plot against me while sending letters to my son Fengxian in an attempt to harm me." His tone was steady as he spoke with a slight smirk as if discussing something utterly mundane.
"Such treasonous ministers cannot be tolerated in court!" Dong Zhuo's voice suddenly rose sharply, causing everyone's hearts to race like drums. He surveyed the officials with eyes like blades slicing through each face. "As long as you are loyal to me," he continued, "you need not worry. Those who are disloyal—" he paused dramatically before bursting into laughter again—"need not be reminded by me; you have already seen the consequences!"
In unison, all officials responded: "The Prime Minister sees clearly; we dare not harbor any ill intentions!" Although their voices were synchronized, they could not hide their trembling tones. Dong Zhuo nodded slightly; his smile was icy as if he were a well-fed tiger surveying its prey. He threw down his wine cup and declared loudly: "The banquet is over; you all may return and attend to your duties!" The officials fled as if granted amnesty, eager to avoid becoming the next Zhang Wen.
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