The Gathering Storm in Rehe

In the summer of 1861, the imperial court of the Qing Dynasty found itself in extraordinary circumstances. The Xianfeng Emperor, having fled Beijing during the Anglo-French invasion, now resided in the remote mountain retreat of Rehe, his health deteriorating with each passing day. This geographical displacement created a power vacuum that would soon become the stage for one of the most dramatic political struggles in Chinese history. The court, traditionally centered in the Forbidden City, now operated from temporary quarters, with ministers, officials, and imperial family members all navigating unfamiliar terrain both literally and politically.

The political landscape was sharply divided between two factions. On one side stood Sushun and his allies, who had gained the emperor’s confidence during the crisis. On the other stood Prince Gong, the emperor’s half-brother, who had remained in Beijing to negotiate with foreign powers. This physical separation mirrored the ideological divide between conservatives who advocated for resistance against foreign influence and pragmatists who recognized the need for engagement with the Western powers.

Into this tense environment came Zhu Xueqin, a trusted aide to Prince Gong, dispatched on a mission that would test his diplomatic skills and political acumen. His month-long stay in Rehe appeared uneventful to casual observers, but beneath the surface, he was engaged in delicate political work that would have far-reaching consequences for the dynasty.

The Art of Political Theater

Zhu Xueqin’s mission exemplified the subtle art of political maneuvering in the Qing court. His every action was carefully calculated to achieve specific perceptions among the powerful figures observing him. By maintaining an appearance of cautious conformity, he successfully deflected suspicions that Prince Gong might be planning any aggressive moves against the emperor or his advisors. This performance was crucial in an environment where mere suspicion could lead to devastating consequences.

The success of Zhu’s mission lay in what he managed not to do rather than in any overt achievements. He deliberately presented himself as a minor official simply fulfilling his duties, careful not to attract undue attention or appear too important. This calculated modesty served to reinforce the perception that Prince Gong had been effectively sidelined, allowing the prince valuable time to consolidate his position in Beijing without appearing as an immediate threat to the Rehe faction.

Meanwhile, Sushun, as the leading figure in the emperor’s inner circle, began to display behaviors that would later be interpreted as signs of overreach. His dual roles as Grand Councillor and Imperial Household Department supervisor gave him unprecedented access to the inner sanctums of power. Historical accounts suggest he sometimes tested the boundaries of propriety, even reportedly sitting on the emperor’s throne when he believed himself unobserved—actions that would later be cited as evidence of imperial ambitions.

The Whisper Network of Rehe

The remote court at Rehe operated as a hotbed of rumors and speculation, where information was both currency and weapon. Zhu Xueqin became privy to numerous stories circulating among officials, each more revealing than the last about the true nature of power dynamics at court. These whispered accounts, whether entirely factual or partially embellished, painted a picture of a government in crisis, with key players positioning themselves for the inevitable transition of power.

One particularly revealing story involved Sushun’s morning ritual of drinking human milk from a jade cup bestowed by the previous emperor. When a servant accidentally broke this precious vessel, he received counsel from Chen Fuen, a former member of the “Mu Ten Sons” literary group who had become one of Sushun’s closest advisors. The solution devised was theatrical: the servant would glue the pieces together, then deliberately drop it the next morning while claiming to have seen a golden dragon coiled on Sushun’s bed. That Sushun not only believed this story but rewarded the servant for his discretion suggested either remarkable vanity or genuine imperial aspirations.

These stories, whether literally true or symbolically significant, circulated through the corridors of power, shaping perceptions and influencing allegiances. In an environment where direct confrontation was dangerous, such narratives became powerful tools for political positioning and character assassination.

The Web of Loyalty and Deception

The political landscape was further complicated by figures like Chen Fuen, whose shifting loyalties and cunning intelligence made him a particularly dangerous player. As Cao Yuying warned Zhu Xueqin during their private farewell meeting, Chen represented Sushun’s eyes and ears in the capital—a sophisticated operative capable of gathering intelligence and influencing events from behind the scenes. This warning underscored the recognition that the struggle extended beyond the immediate circle around the emperor to include networks of influence stretching across the empire.

The exchange of secret letters between Cao and Zhu exemplified the clandestine communications that characterized this period. The extreme caution taken—hiding the document inside clothing, the repeated warnings about consequences—highlighted the genuine fear that discovery would mean political ruin or worse. These secret communications formed the nervous system of opposition to Sushun’s faction, allowing coordination without overt action that might trigger preemptive strikes.

This environment of suspicion necessitated extraordinary measures for basic communication. Trust became the most valuable and scarcest commodity, with even long-standing relationships subjected to new tests under the pressure of impending crisis. The fact that such established officials felt compelled to operate in shadows speaks volumes about the atmosphere of fear and uncertainty that pervaded the court.

Preparing for the Inevitable

As Zhu prepared to return to Beijing, both he and Cao understood they were approaching a critical juncture. The emperor’s declining health meant that a succession crisis was increasingly probable, and both factions were preparing for the struggle that would follow. Their private discussions touched on the most sensitive questions of power transition, including the possibility of extreme measures should Sushun attempt to control the succession.

The reference to the Duke of Zhou, the legendary regent who protected his young nephew against rebellious uncles, provided both historical precedent and ideological justification for action against Sushun. This analogy allowed them to frame potential conflict not as rebellion but as legitimate defense of proper imperial succession. The discussion of raising military force against the “rebellious uncles” represented the acknowledgment that political solutions might require martial support.

Their conversation revealed the fundamental weakness in Sushun’s position: despite his control over the immediate court environment, he lacked reliable military force that could be quickly deployed. This strategic vulnerability would later prove decisive when Prince Gong and the empress dowagers moved against him.

The Imperial Family’s Perspective

While officials maneuvered in the corridors of power, within the inner quarters of the imperial household, the Empress Dowager Cixi watched developments with growing concern. Her limited meetings with her sister, the wife of Prince Chun, provided rare opportunities for private discussion beyond the ears of court officials. These conversations revealed her acute understanding of the political situation and her determination to protect her son’s future.

The empress dowager’s observation that the emperor’s deterioration seemed less dramatic to those who saw him regularly than to visitors highlighted how gradual decline could normalize even radical changes. This psychological insight would later inform her approach to political crisis—recognizing that others might underestimate dangers until they reached critical stages.

Her position was particularly precarious. As the mother of the heir apparent, she had tremendous stake in the succession, yet as a woman in a patriarchal system, her ability to influence events directly was limited. This contradiction between high stake and limited agency would drive her to form the alliance with Prince Gong that ultimately resolved the crisis in her favor.

The Legacy of the Rehe Exile

The political maneuvers during the Rehe period established patterns that would influence Chinese politics for decades. The Xinyou Coup that followed the emperor’s death, in which Prince Gong and the empress dowagers overthrew Sushun’s regency, represented not just a change of personnel but a fundamental shift in governance approach. The victors pursued policies of engagement with foreign powers and modernization known as the Tongzhi Restoration, which aimed to strengthen the dynasty through selective adoption of Western technologies and administrative methods.

The methods developed during this period—secret communications, strategic misinformation, building alliances across formal institutional boundaries—became tools that would be deployed in subsequent political struggles. The particular success of combining imperial authority created a template for regency governments that would reappear in later crises.

Perhaps most significantly, the events demonstrated the potential for women to exercise power from behind the throne, a lesson the Empress Dowager Cixi would apply throughout her long period of influence. The collaboration between the imperial household and senior officials against a perceived threat to proper succession established precedents for extraordinary measures in the name of dynastic preservation.

Echoes Through Modern History

The Rehe crisis and its resolution continue to offer insights into the nature of political transition in systems where power is personalized rather than institutionalized. The careful balance between different centers of authority, the use of information as weaponry, the importance of personal relationships in determining political outcomes—all these elements remain relevant to understanding political dynamics in various contexts.

The particular solution arrived at—a partnership between the imperial household and reform-minded officials—represented an attempt to modernize while preserving traditional authority structures. This approach characterized China’s response to Western challenge throughout the late nineteenth century, with mixed results that ultimately contributed to the dynasty’s collapse.

The personal dimensions of the struggle—the ambitions, fears, and calculations of individuals operating under extreme pressure—remind us that historical events are never merely the working out of abstract forces but always involve human beings making choices within constrained circumstances. The success of Zhu Xueqin’s apparently uneventful mission demonstrates how much history can turn on quiet competence as well as dramatic action.

In the end, the lessons of Rehe are lessons about power: its seductions, its limitations, and the constant tension between its formal structures and informal realities. The players in this drama, for all their historical specificity, grapple with problems that transcend their particular moment—making their story not just a chapter in Chinese history but a case study in the perpetual challenge of governing well under difficult circumstances.