Dong Zhuo turned to Li Su and asked what these things portended.
“It means that you are going to receive the abdication of the Hans, which is to renew all things, to mount the jeweled chariot and sit in the golden saddle.”
And Dong Zhuo was pleased and convinced with this answer. During the second day's journey a violent gale sprang up, and the sky became covered with a thick mist.
“What does this mean?” said Dong Zhuo.
The wily Li Su had an interpretation for this also, saying, “You are ascending to the place of the dragon; there must be bright light and lurid vapor to dignify your majestic approach.”
Dong Zhuo had no more doubts. He presently arrived and found many officials waiting without the city gate to receive him, all but Li Ru who was ill and unable to leave his chamber. He entered and proceeded to his own palace, where Lu Bu came to congratulate him. “When I sit on the throne, you shall command the whole armies of the empire, horse and foot,” said Dong Zhuo.
That night Dong Zhuo slept in the midst of his escort. In the suburbs that evening some children at play were singing a little ditty, and the words drifted into the bedchamber on the wind.
“The grass in the meadow looks fresh now and green,
Yet wait but ten days, not a blade will be seen.”
The song sounded ominous but Li Su was again prepared with a happy interpretation: “It only means that the Lius are about to disappear, and the Dongs to be exalted.”
Next morning at the first streak of dawn, Dong Zhuo prepared for his appearance at court. On the way he saw a Taoist, dressed in a black robe and wearing a white turban, who carried in his hand a tall staff with a long strip of white cloth attached. At each end of the cloth was drawn a mouth. ((Forming Chinese characters, implied the name of Lu Bu.)).
“What is the meaning of this?” said Dong Zhuo.
“He is a madman,” said Li Su, and he told the guards to drive the fellow away.
Dong Zhuo went in and found all the officials in court dress lining the road. Li Su walked beside his carriage, a sword in his hand. When Li Su reached the north gate of the Palace, he found the soldiers of Dong Zhuo drawn up outside and only the pushers of the palace carriage, a twenty or so, were allowed to proceed further.
When Dong Zhuo arrived near the Reception Hall, he saw that Wang Yun and all the other officials standing at the door were armed.
“Why are they all armed?” said Dong Zhuo to Li Su.
Li Su was silent as he helped push the carriage forward swiftly to the entrance.
Suddenly Wang Yun shouted, “The rebel is here! Where are the executioners?”
At this call sprang from both sides soldiers armed with halberds and spears who attacked Dong Zhuo. He had not put on the breastplate he usually wore, and a spear pierced his breast. He sank down in the carriage calling loudly for his son, “Where is Lu Bu?”
“Here, and with a decree to deal with a rebel,” said Lu Bu, as he appeared in front of his “father.”
Thereupon he thrust his trident halberd through the victim's throat. Then Li Su hacked off the head and held it up. Lu Bu, his left hand holding his halberd, thrust his right hand into his bosom whence he drew the decree, crying, “The decree was to slay the rebel Dong Zhuo; no other.”
The whole assembly shouted, “Live forever! O Emperor.”
A sympathetic poet has written a few lines in pity:
Await the time, O noble, and be king,
Or failing, reap the solace riches bring;
Heaven never is partial, but severely just,
Meiwo stood strong, yet now it lies in dust.
The lust of blood awakened, Lu Bu urged the slaughter of Li Ru, who had been the confidant of the murdered Prime Minister, and Li Su volunteered to go in search of him. But just then a shouting was heard at the gates, and it was told them that a household servant had brought Li Ru in bonds. Wang Yun ordered his immediate execution in the market place.
Dong Zhuo's head was exposed in a crowded thoroughfare. He was very fat, and the guards made torches by sticking splints into the body, spilling the corpse's grease over the ground. The passers-by pelted the head and spurned the body with their feet.
Wang Yun ordered a force of fifty thousand under Lu Bu, Huangfu Song, and Li Su to destroy Meiwo. Learning the news of their master, Li Jue, Guo Si, Fan Chou, and Zhang Ji fled west swiftly through the night with their Flying Bear Army to Liangzhou.
When arriving Meiwo, Lu Bu's first deed was to take Diao Chan into his charge. Then they slew every member of the Dong family, sparing none, not even Dong Zhuo's aged mother. The heads of Dong Zhuo's brother Dong Min and his nephew Dong Huang were publicly displayed in the market place. In Meiwo were hidden many young ladies of good family. These were set free. All properties were confiscated. The wealth was enormous — several hundred thousand ounces of gold, millions of silver coins, pearls, gems, silks, velvets, furs, grain stores.
When they returned to report success, Wang Yun rewarded and feasted the soldiers. Banquets were held in the Ministry Hall to which all the officials were invited. They drank and congratulated each other. While the feasting was in progress it was announced that some one had come and was wailing over Dong Zhuo's corpse exposed in the market place.
“Dong Zhuo has been put to death,” said Wang Yun, angrily. “Every body is glad to be rid of him, and yet one is found to lament over him. Who is this?”
So Wang Yun gave orders to arrest the mourner and bring him in. Soon he was brought in, and when they saw him all were startled. For he was no other than Imperial Historian Cai Yong.
Wang Yun spoke to Cai Yong angrily, “Dong Zhuo has been put to death as a rebel, and all the land rejoices. You, a Han minister, instead of rejoicing, weep for him. Why?”
Cai Yong confessed his fault, saying, “I am without talent, yet know what is right. I am the man to turn my back on my country and toward Dong Zhuo. Yet once I experienced his kindness, and I could not help mourning for him. I know my fault is grave, but I pray you regard the reasons. If you will leave my head and only cut off my feet, you may use me to continue the History of Han, whereby I may have the good fortune to be allowed to expiate my fault.”
All were sorry for Cai Yong, for he was a man of great talents, and they begged that he might be spared. The Imperial Guardian, Ma Midi, secretly interceded for him, saying, “Cai Yong is famous as a scholar, and he can write glorious history, and it is inadvisable to put to death a man renowned for rectitude without consideration.”
But in vain, for the High Minister was now strong and obdurate.
Wang Yun said, “Centuries ago, Emperor Wu spared Sima Qian and employed him on the annals, with the result that many slanderous stories have been handed down to us. This is a trying period of great perplexity, and we dare not let a specious fellow like this wield his pen in criticism of those about the court of a youthful prince and abuse us as he will.”
Remonstrance and appeal being vain, Ma Midi retired. But he said to his colleagues, “Is Wang Yun then careless of the future? Worthy people are the mainstay of the state; laws are the canons of action. To destroy the mainstay and nullify the laws is to hasten destruction.”
As was just said Wang Yun was obdurate. Cai Yong whose offense was an expression of gratitude was thrown into prison and there strangled. The people of that day wept for Cai Yong, for they refused to see any offense in what he had done, and death was a harsh punishment.