Wu Tong and his companions entered Luoyang City and, that night, lodged in an inconspicuous inn to rest and make ready. The next day, on the twenty-eighth, the four of them set out to reconnoiter, walking near the imperial palace to study the lay of the land. They carefully noted every guard's station, the patterns of the patrols, and potential points of entry. The palace stood majestic and imposing, its walls lofty and thick, defenses strict and unyielding—but to Wu Tong and his companions, such obstacles were but part of the challenge.
When the twenty-ninth arrived, they conducted themselves with utmost caution. Throughout the day they did not leave the inn, conserving their strength, waiting for nightfall. As darkness descended, heavy snow began to fall, and a bitter wind like knives swept across Luoyang. Wu Tong and Li Qian donned plain white garments, blending with the snow, and quietly slipped from the inn, striding toward the palace.
The imperial city loomed ahead, towering walls rising like an insurmountable barrier. Yet for warriors of their caliber, such walls meant little. Exchanging a glance of mutual understanding, they tapped their toes lightly against the ground and soared up with the move "Stepping into the Clouds." Their figures floated like swallows, landing on the wall without a sound.
Seizing a moment when the patrol had just passed, they leapt again, ghostlike, onto the glazed rooftops of the palace, settling soundlessly among the tiles. They scanned the surroundings—nothing amiss—then slipped deeper within. The palace was silent under the blanket of night, broken only by the wail of the wind and snow. Wu Tong and Li Qian crept forward, step by careful step, threading through gates and halls, evading any hint of eyes or ears.
Passing by the Golden Luan Hall, they found it empty, its solemnity radiating awe. Without pause, they pressed on to a side hall, concealing themselves in the eaves' shadows, holding their breath as they waited. Wu Tong lifted his gaze; the moon was veiled by heavy clouds, its light faint and weak. He whispered, "The hour is nearly upon us." Li Qian gave a nod, and once again they leapt, alighting gracefully upon another rooftop.
All around, the palace seemed strangely deserted—save for a few guards at the Xuanwu Gate, defenses were unusually thin. Wu Tong frowned, murmuring, "Strange… the palace has ever been tightly guarded. Why is it so lax tonight?" Li Qian too felt the unease. "Could something be afoot? Or have they arranged matters elsewhere?" They dared not act rashly, only concealing themselves and waiting to see how events unfolded.
Just then, faint footsteps drifted from afar, drawing nearer. Wu Tong and Li Qian exchanged wary glances, held their breath, and froze like statues, melting into the shadows.
"Pig-child, how many beatings have you taken today?" A voice floated across the courtyard. Wu Tong could not resist peeking out—speaking was none other than Yan Zhuang, his face full of concern. The one addressed, "Pig-child," said nothing, unable even to count the number of blows he had endured; he only hung his head in silence. This was none other than the eunuch Li Zhu'er.
Yan Zhuang pressed on: "And lately—how many boys have died here?"Zhu'er replied: "I cannot quite recall… only that yesterday a boy who was close to me delayed a moment when the Emperor asked for something. The Emperor dragged a blade from his bed and cut him down on the spot."Yan Zhuang asked in a low voice: "Has the Emperor ever struck at you with a blade?"Zhu'er said: "I keep sharp eyes, I know where His Majesty hides the knives. If I see his hand reach for one, I slip away. His eyesight is failing now; else I'd already be dead."Yan Zhuang sighed: "How perilous… one misstep, and your life is gone. How can this go on? What will you do? Simply wait for death?"
Li Zhu'er remained silent. At that moment another man strode forward. Both Yan Zhuang and Zhu'er bowed deeply: "Your Highness!"
It was An Qingxu. Zhu'er feigned surprise: "What brings Your Highness here?"Yan Zhuang stepped in: "Zhu'er, His Highness is thinking for your sake. Consider—the Emperor has not long left. If you aid His Highness in this great deed, you will be richly rewarded."Zhu'er nodded slightly. An Qingxu said coldly: "You've long served at my father's side. If you do not kill him, you won't live many more days yourself. Tonight the guards are already dismissed. This matter rests with you."
At this, Li Zhu'er suddenly dropped to his knees, tears streaming: "Your Highness, have mercy! To slay the Emperor—how then could I survive in this wide world? I beg only one thing: grant me a fortune in gold, spare my life, and let me return to the northern steppes."
Li Zhu'er was a Khitan, brought into An Lushan's service as a boy. Clever and shrewd, he understood too well: should he kill An Lushan, An Qingxu might kill him all the same. Without a promise, he was doomed. An Qingxu, knowing that patricide was an unthinkable act for himself, needed another hand to carry it out. He thought swiftly, then said: "Zhu'er, a ruler's word is no jest. Accomplish this, and as you ask—you shall have gold in plenty and return to the steppes at once."
Zhu'er wiped his tears, bowing: "Your Highness is the sovereign to come—your word is iron. I trust you."
He had no choice but to trust, for better a chance at life than certain death under An Lushan's blade.
Now, An Lushan's eldest son, An Qingzong, had once held office in Chang'an, but after the rebellion he was executed by the Tang emperor. His second son, An Qingxu, had followed him in war, skilled in riding and archery, favored by his father. Yet once An Lushan took Lady Duan as consort and begot An Qing'en, his affection shifted. Jealousy gnawed at Qingxu's heart. History records An Lushan as monstrously fat, his belly sagging past his knees, claiming he weighed three hundred jin. Years of corpulence bred ulcers and carbuncles; after his revolt, his vision dimmed until blindness overtook him. Tormented by pain, his temper grew violent; he lashed out with whip and cudgel, and often with the sword. Li Zhu'er bore the worst of these beatings, but even great counselor Yan Zhuang was not spared, stoking bitter resentment.
Thus the three—Yan Zhuang, An Qingxu, and Li Zhu'er—each with their own designs, settled upon this night to strike. Yan Zhuang whispered: "Zhu'er, the hour has come. His Highness and I cannot do this deed ourselves. It must fall to you. Come—we go to the rear hall."
They rose together and strode straight toward the Hall of Eternal Life. Wu Tong and Li Qian shadowed them silently, unseen. Soon, the conspirators arrived outside the hall. Four soldiers stood guard—clearly Qingxu's men. They stepped forward and saluted. A wave of the hand, and Qingxu dismissed them to either side. Yan Zhuang leaned close to Zhu'er and murmured: "Now is the time for great deeds!" One soldier stepped forth, presenting a great blade with both hands.
"Do not fear," An Qingxu said quietly. "Within a mile, all is cleared."