An Ominous Tradition in the Imperial Court

During the twilight years of the Qing Dynasty, a peculiar superstition gripped the highest echelons of Chinese power: the Grand Council, the emperor’s most trusted advisory body, must never consist of exactly six members. This belief, treated with surprising seriousness by otherwise pragmatic officials, created an undercurrent of anxiety in imperial appointments throughout the 1870s and 1880s. The origins of this taboo remain obscure, possibly rooted in numerology or historical precedent, but its influence on political decisions demonstrates how tradition and superstition continued to shape governance even as China faced unprecedented modern challenges.

The Grand Council had evolved from an informal advisory group into the central policymaking body of the Qing government. Its members, typically senior statesmen of proven loyalty and ability, handled military affairs, reviewed memorials, and advised the emperor on matters of state. The composition traditionally followed an unofficial balance between Manchu and Han officials, reflecting the delicate ethnic dynamics of Qing rule. Against this backdrop of careful political calculation, the six-minister superstition added an unexpected dimension to imperial appointments.

The Pattern of Misfortune Emerges

The reign of the Tongzhi Emperor , when Jinglian joined the council, creating a six-minister formation. Shortly afterward, the respected statesman Wenxiang fell ill and died, seemingly confirming the taboo’s validity.

The pattern repeated in late 1879 when Li Hongzao, having completed the mandatory mourning period for a parent’s death, prepared to resume his position on the council. This would again create six members. On New Year’s Eve of that year, Shen Guifen suddenly passed away, maintaining the five-minister configuration but reinforcing the superstition. When the formidable general Zuo Zongtang briefly joined the council, concerns mounted until his timely transfer to govern Liangjiang Province averted potential disaster. Each incident strengthened belief in the taboo among court officials, despite its irrational nature.

The Fateful Appointment of Pan Zuyin

In the early 1880s, another test of the superstition emerged. Wang Wenshao’s dismissal from office created a vacancy, leading to the appointment of Weng Tonghe and Pan Zuyin to the Grand Council. Court observers immediately expressed concern about again reaching six members. Their fears proved justified when Pan Zuyin’s father, Pan Zengcou, who had been living with his son in Beijing, suddenly fell ill and died. Pan Zuyin served only thirty-odd days as a Grand Council minister before resigning to observe the traditional mourning period.

This personal tragedy had immediate political consequences. Pan’s resignation created a vacancy not only on the Grand Council but also in his position as President of the Board of Punishments. The search for replacements revealed the intricate balancing act of Qing official appointments. No Han vice-minister possessed sufficient seniority and imperial favor for promotion to department head. Meanwhile, Empress Dowager Cixi wished to appoint the respected official Peng Yulin as President of the Board of War. The solution involved transferring Zhang Zhiwan to head the Board of Punishments while appointing Peng Yulin to the war portfolio. Until Peng could assume his duties, Yan Jingming, head of the Board of Revenue, would temporarily oversee both departments.

A Magistrate’s Reflection on Justice

During his mandatory mourning period, Pan Zuyin contemplated his brief tenure and the cases he had overseen. He concluded that his handling of the Yunnan reimbursement case had been proper at every stage, but his approach to the Wang Shuwen wrongful conviction case troubled his conscience. This reflection reveals much about the moral framework within which Qing officials operated—even when caught between personal connections and professional duty.

The Wang Shuwen case began as a straightforward instance of mistaken identity but evolved into a complex legal and political battle. Wang, an innocent man, had been falsely identified as the bandit Hu Ti’an and sentenced to death. As the case gained attention, it exposed deeper problems in the judicial system and official accountability. The initial investigation had been conducted properly, but political interference subsequently derailed the pursuit of justice.

Political Maneuvering Obstructs Justice

The case took a troubling turn when Tu Zongying transferred to become Governor of Hunan Province, and Li Henian succeeded him as Governor of Henan. Ren Kai, the investigating official, enjoyed close ties with Li Henian and seized the opportunity to seek the new governor’s support in maintaining the original verdict. Initially impartial, Li grew defensive when Beijing officials from Henan criticized his handling of the case, accusing him of favoring Ren Kai. This criticism ironically pushed Li toward precisely the bias of which he stood accused.

Facing mounting evidence that Wang Shuwen was not the actual criminal, Ren Kai developed a new argument: even if Wang wasn’t Hu Ti’an, he had served as an accomplice by receiving stolen goods and acting as a lookout. Under Qing law, banditry charges did not distinguish between principals and accessories—all faced execution. This legal technicality offered officials involved in the case a path to avoid responsibility for the wrongful conviction.

The Battle Moves to the Capital

The case’s transformation from one about mistaken identity to one focusing solely on Wang’s technical guilt angered censors and other officials. They submitted numerous memorials protesting this judicial evasion. In response, the court ordered Mei Qizhao, the newly appointed Director-General of the Grand Canal, to reinvestigate. Aging and ill, Mei preferred avoiding conflict and employed staff who had previously served under Li Henian. Unsurprisingly, his review upheld the original verdict.

When the case reached the Board of Punishments, Zhao Shuqiao, head of the Autumn Assizes Office, identified numerous inconsistencies in the testimony and evidence. He recommended that the Board take over the investigation. The court approved his request, ordering Li Henian to transfer all documents and witnesses to Beijing for thorough examination. This development alarmed Li and Mei, who remembered the severe punishments meted out in the similar Yang Naiwu case several years earlier.

A Scholar’s Dilemma: Duty Versus Loyalty

Facing potential disgrace, Li Henian and Mei Qizhao dispatched a special envoy to Beijing—an expectant official who happened to be Pan Zuyin’s prized student—to lobby for their position. The envoy successfully persuaded his mentor to support upholding the original verdict. Here we see the tension between the teacher-student relationships that formed crucial networks in Qing officialdom and the impartial administration of justice.

Zhao Shuqiao refused to yield, staking his position on the proper handling of the case. He declared that as long as he remained head of the Autumn Assizes Office, the original verdict would not stand. Despite Pan’s repeated attempts at persuasion, Zhao remained firm. The impasse continued until Pan’s father’s death forced his resignation and mourning period.

Justice Finally Prevails

Before returning to Suzhou to bury his father—a journey that would keep him away from the capital for two years—Pan Zuyin reflected on his unfinished business in Beijing. The Wang Shuwen case weighed heavily on his conscience. In a remarkable act of intellectual honesty, he wrote to Zhang Zhiwan admitting he had been misled by his student and affirming that Zhao Shuqiao’s handling of the case had been correct. He asked Zhang to support Zhao’s investigation.

This letter proved decisive. Freed from political pressure, Zhao conducted a thorough review that concluded in late February with Wang’s exoneration. The officials involved in the wrongful conviction faced severe consequences: Ma Zhu, the magistrate of Zhenping County, was dismissed and sentenced to military exile. Li Henian and Mei Qizhao were stripped of their positions for failing to correct a wrongful conviction in a specially commissioned case, instead protecting their subordinates with a misleading report.

The Larger Context: Corruption and Reform

Though justice ultimately prevailed in the Wang Shuwen case, it received less public attention than the earlier Yang Naiwu case, which had captured popular imagination with its romantic elements. Meanwhile, the Yunnan reimbursement case—another major scandal involving corruption—continued to develop dramatic new twists.

The dismissed official Pan Yingzhang, escorted to Beijing from Yunnan, was immediately imprisoned without access to visitors. Unlike his predecessor Pan Zuyin, Zhang Zhiwan preferred sharing responsibility and requested additional senior officials to oversee the case. The Grand Council consulted Prince Chun and added Yan Jingming and Xue Yunsheng to the investigation team, delaying proceedings.

When the interrogation finally began, five officials including Zhao Shuqiao conducted the questioning. Under threat of punishment, Pan Yingzhang proved cooperative. He explained his relationships with the other figures in the case: Cui Zunyi headed Yunnan’s postwar reconstruction bureau and was a colleague and friend; Zhou Ruiqing was a family friend; Long Jidong had previously served as his private secretary and had helped him cover a financial shortfall; Li Yuhua was a fellow provincial who had served as an examination official in Yunnan.

The financial records revealed substantial sums involved: Cui Zunyi had transferred 185,000 taels of silver from Yunnan to Beijing, with an additional 28,000 taels borrowed from Shuntianxiang bank, totaling 213,000 taels—an enormous sum that hinted at the scale of corruption in military reimbursement processes.

Legacy and Historical Significance

These intertwined cases—the six-minister superstition, the wrongful conviction of Wang Shuwen, and the Yunnan reimbursement scandal—reveal the complex dynamics of late Qing governance. They demonstrate how tradition, personal relationships, bureaucratic procedure, and corruption intersected in the closing decades of imperial rule.

The Wang Shuwen case particularly illustrates both the weaknesses and strengths of the Qing judicial system. While vulnerable to political interference and official misconduct, it ultimately contained self-correcting mechanisms through the censorship system and review processes. The case also highlights the moral dilemmas faced by officials like Pan Zuyin, who struggled to balance personal loyalties with professional responsibilities.

The six-minister superstition, while seemingly trivial, reflects the persistent influence of tradition on political decision-making even as China faced increasing pressure to modernize. This tension between tradition and reform would characterize the final years of Qing rule and contribute to the dynasty’s eventual collapse.

These cases occurred against the backdrop of China’s gradual decline and increasing foreign pressure. The same bureaucratic system that produced these scandals and superstitions would soon prove inadequate to the challenges of modernization and foreign imperialism. Yet within these stories we find individual officials like Zhao Shuqiao who demonstrated integrity and commitment to justice, suggesting that institutional reform might have been possible had the political will existed.

The historical record of these events, preserved in official documents and personal accounts, provides valuable insight into the functioning of late imperial governance. It reminds us that behind the grand narratives of dynastic decline and foreign imperialism lie countless human stories of ambition, error, redemption, and the perpetual struggle between principle and pragmatism in the exercise of power.