Two Young Swordsmen Under the Luoyang Moon

In the silver moonlight of Luoyang, accompanied only by the distant cries of wilderness pheasants, two young men practiced their swordplay—a scene that would become immortalized in Chinese historical memory. Liu Kun had just entered his twenties, while his companion Zu Ti was slightly older, though neither had yet reached twenty-six.

Both served as Chief Clerks in Sizhou, the imperial capital region encompassing Luoyang. Their positions handling government documents gave these ambitious young men ample opportunity to discuss politics during turbulent times. Emperor Wu had recently died, and court whispers questioned whether the newly enthroned crown prince might be intellectually impaired. As social and political tensions simmered, the stage was set for rebellion.

It was during this period that Zu Ti made his famous declaration to Liu Kun: “When the empire erupts in chaos and heroes rise up everywhere, we two in the central plains should avoid confronting each other.” This statement, sometimes interpreted as mutual encouragement for individual achievement, carried deeper implications according to Tang dynasty historians. Zu Ti, recognizing coming upheavals, was essentially proposing: “To preserve our friendship, if we both become regional warlords someday, let’s not become direct rivals.”

The Gathering Storm: Prelude to Rebellion

The Western Jin dynasty (265-316 CE) had maintained an uneasy peace following the Three Kingdoms period, but ethnic tensions and political instability simmered beneath the surface. The ruling Sima clan’s power struggles—known as the War of the Eight Princes—created opportunities for ambitious men like Liu and Zu.

Liu Kun initially seemed the more successful, joining the elite “Twenty-Four Friends of the Golden Valley” literary salon. This group, while intellectually brilliant, had questionable political associations. Meanwhile, Zu Ti moved between various princely courts in routine postings.

When civil war erupted in 300 CE, their paths diverged dramatically. During the Battle of Dangyin, when most officials fled the emperor’s side, historical records show Zu Ti among those who retreated. He subsequently withdrew from politics, refusing appointments from various princes. Liu Kun became deeply entangled in the conflict, with enemies placing substantial bounties on him and his brother.

The Northern Frontier: Liu Kun’s Ordeal in Bingzhou

In 306 CE, Liu Kun accepted the governorship of Bingzhou (modern Shanxi), a strategic border region. His journey north revealed the empire’s devastation: refugees filled the roads while unburied bones littered the wilderness. The once-cosmopolitan aristocrat, accustomed to luxury in Luoyang, now subsisted on wild vegetables during the arduous six-month trek.

Arriving at the provincial capital Jinyang (modern Taiyuan), Liu Kun found a city in ruins—government buildings burned, streets overgrown with thorns, and corpses everywhere. Despite composing poetry expressing profound homesickness and despair, he demonstrated remarkable resilience. Rebuilding infrastructure and defending against constant attacks, Liu Kun transformed Jinyang into a rare island of stability amid northern chaos.

Yet his leadership flaws proved fatal. Skilled at attracting followers but poor at retaining them, Liu Kun’s aristocratic habits alienated common soldiers. His indulgence in music and women at critical moments, including executing a general over a musician in 312 CE, led to disastrous consequences. When the slain general’s son defected to the Xiongnu rebels with military secrets, Liu Kun lost Jinyang and his parents in the subsequent attack.

The Southern Exodus: Zu Ti’s Rise as a Warlord

While Liu Kun struggled in the north, Zu Ti emerged as a formidable leader during the mass southern migration. Protecting his clan and refugees traveling to the Huai River region, Zu Ti demonstrated both compassion and ruthlessness—giving his carriage to the elderly while walking himself, yet openly plundering to supply his forces.

After settling briefly in Jiankang (modern Nanjing), Zu Ti famously vowed while crossing the Yangtze in 317 CE: “If Zu Ti cannot clear the Central Plains, may I never cross this river again!” His unconventional methods—including tolerating his troops’ banditry—alienated the Eastern Jin court but built loyal forces.

Zu Ti’s northern campaigns (317-321 CE) displayed brilliant strategy. His most famous victory came during the 40-day stalemate at Pengpi Fort, where he tricked enemy general Tao Bao into believing his troops had ample supplies by having soldiers carry dirt sacks resembling rice. Through careful diplomacy with local warlords and tactical brilliance, Zu Ti reclaimed much of Henan province south of the Yellow River.

Contrasting Legacies: The Ends of Two Heroes

Liu Kun’s final years saw continued setbacks. After losing Bingzhou, he joined the Xianbei leader Duan Pidi but became entangled in tribal politics. When implicated in a rebellion plot, Liu Kun composed his famous poem “Gifting Again to Lu Chen,” containing the poignant lines: “How could hundred-times forged steel/ Become pliant enough to wrap around a finger?” He was executed in 318 CE, his death initially unacknowledged by the Jin court to avoid offending the Xianbei.

Zu Ti continued campaigning until 321 CE when, observing an ominous star (possibly a comet), he predicted his own death. The Eastern Jin government, wary of his growing power, appointed a rival commander over him. Zu Ti died shortly after, reportedly heartbroken at the political maneuvering undermining his northern campaigns. The people of Henan mourned him as they would their parents.

Cultural Echoes: The Enduring Legend

The story of these two friends-turned-warlords became embedded in Chinese cultural memory through several iconic moments:

1. The “Rising at Cockcrow” legend—their youthful dedication to practicing martial arts at dawn
2. Liu Kun’s miraculous defense of Jinyang using music to disperse besieging forces
3. Zu Ti’s dramatic Yangtze crossing and pledge
4. Their contrasting leadership styles—Liu’s inspirational but inconsistent approach versus Zu’s pragmatic adaptability

Their lives exemplified the tragic choices faced by idealists during China’s Period of Disunion (220-589 CE). While neither ultimately succeeded in restoring Jin authority, their perseverance against overwhelming odds made them enduring symbols of loyalty and resilience.

Modern assessments recognize both men as complex figures—flawed yet heroic, their stories reflecting the brutal realities of their era. Liu Kun’s musical talents and poetic sensitivity coexisted with poor judgment, while Zu Ti’s pragmatic leadership sometimes crossed ethical boundaries. Yet in a collapsing empire where many pursued self-interest, their commitment to restoration—however imperfect—secured their place in history.