The Rise of a Rebellious General
On November 9, 755 CE, the Tang Dynasty faced a cataclysmic upheaval when An Lushan, the military governor of Pinglu, launched a rebellion from Fanyang (modern-day Beijing). Leading 150,000 troops southward toward the capital Chang’an, his revolt shattered decades of peace under Emperor Xuanzong’s Kaiyuan and Tianbao eras. The once-prosperous northern plains descended into chaos as cities burned and refugees fled.
An Lushan’s origins were as unconventional as his betrayal. Born as Kang Yaluoshan to a Sogdian father and a Turkic shaman mother, he grew up among the Göktürks after his father’s early death. Adopted by his stepfather An Yanhan, he mastered five Central Asian languages and rose from a lowly border interpreter to command three key military districts: Pinglu, Fanyang, and Hedong. His cunning charm won Emperor Xuanzong’s favor—famously joking about his girth, he claimed it held “nothing but loyalty to Your Majesty.” Yet beneath this facade lay ruthless ambition.
The Powder Keg of Court Politics
The Tang court’s decadence sowed the seeds of disaster. By the 750s, Emperor Xuanzong’s infatuation with Consort Yang Guifei and reliance on her corrupt cousin Yang Guozhong eroded governance. Yang Guozhong, a mediocre bureaucrat elevated through nepotism, saw An Lushan as a rival. Their feud escalated when Yang repeatedly warned the emperor of An’s treachery—warnings dismissed until too late.
An Lushan’s rebellion exploited systemic weaknesses. Decades of peace had left central forces unprepared, while his seasoned frontier troops overran Henan within weeks. By December 755, Luoyang fell; in January 756, An declared himself emperor of the “Great Yan.” Despite desperate defenses by generals like Geshu Han and Guo Ziyi, the Tang collapse accelerated. The pivotal Battle of Tong Pass (June 756) sealed Chang’an’s fate, forcing Xuanzong to flee.
The Tragedy at Mawei Station
The emperor’s retreat became a rout. On June 14, 756, exhausted imperial guards mutinied at Mawei Posthouse. Blaming the Yang family for the catastrophe, they slaughtered Yang Guozhong and demanded Consort Yang’s death. With rebels closing in, Xuanzong faced an agonizing choice. Historians record his plea: “She knows nothing of state affairs!” Yet to save himself, he consented. The 38-year-old beauty was strangled with a silken cord and buried hastily by the roadside—an inglorious end for the woman whose laughter once filled Huaqing Palace.
Yang Guifei’s story epitomized Tang extravagance. Discovered in 736 after Emperor Xuanzong’s favorite concubine died, her musical talents and beauty captivated the court. Her relatives became fabulously wealthy—sisters married into nobility, while her adopted cousin Yang Guozhong monopolized power. Their excesses, immortalized in poetry, symbolized the regime’s detachment from reality.
The Long Shadow of Rebellion
The An Lushan Rebellion’s aftermath reshaped China. Xuanzong’s abdication in 757 marked the Tang’s irreversible decline. Though his son Suzong reclaimed Chang’an with Uyghur aid, the empire fractured. Regional warlords gained autonomy, the economy collapsed, and census records show 36 million lives lost—two-thirds of the population.
Cultural trauma permeated Tang arts. Poets like Du Fu wrote haunting verses: “The nation is broken, though hills and streams remain.” Xuanzong himself became a tragic figure, secretly reburying Yang Guifei and keeping her portrait in a private shrine. His death in 762 preceded the rebellion’s formal end in 763, leaving successor Daizong to preside over a diminished realm.
Why the An Lushan Rebellion Still Matters
This watershed event exposed the perils of centralized power neglecting military oversight. The Tang never fully recovered, foreshadowing later dynasties’ struggles with regional militarization. Modern parallels abound—from the dangers of personality cults to the instability bred by inequality.
The rebellion also birthed enduring legends. Bai Juyi’s Song of Everlasting Sorrow romanticized Xuanzong and Yang’s love, while historians debate whether An Lushan’s obesity (he reportedly weighed 330 pounds) contributed to his eventual assassination by his own son. More than a historical footnote, this conflict remains a cautionary tale about the fragility of golden ages.