The Marriage Alliances of the Spring and Autumn Period

During the tumultuous Spring and Autumn Period (770–476 BCE), inter-state marriages were a common diplomatic strategy to forge alliances and maintain political stability. Two rulers—Marquis Ai of Cai and Marquis Xi of Xi—both married princesses from the powerful state of Chen, making them brothers-in-law. Initially, their relationship was cordial, but a fateful encounter would soon ignite a chain of events leading to war, betrayal, and downfall.

The catalyst was Lady Xi, the beautiful wife of Marquis Xi. When she journeyed back to her homeland of Chen, her route passed through Cai. Given the strict social norms of the time, married women rarely had opportunities to visit their birth families, making this a significant occasion. However, Marquis Ai of Cai, upon seeing his sister-in-law, became infatuated and behaved inappropriately, violating both etiquette and familial respect.

The Humiliation and the Plot for Revenge

Deeply insulted, Lady Xi returned to Xi and tearfully recounted the incident to her husband. Marquis Xi, enraged by this dishonor, vowed revenge. Knowing that Xi alone could not challenge Cai militarily, he devised a cunning plan: he sought the help of King Wen of Chu, a rising power eager to expand northward.

Marquis Xi proposed a ruse: “Attack Xi, and I will call on Cai for aid. As my brother-in-law, Marquis Ai will surely come—then you can ambush him.” King Wen, seeing an opportunity to weaken Cai without direct provocation, agreed. The trap was set: when Cai’s forces arrived to “rescue” Xi, Chu’s army struck, capturing Marquis Ai.

The Captive’s Counterattack: A Second Betrayal

Marquis Ai, now a prisoner in Chu, soon realized he had been deceived. Furious, he retaliated by praising Lady Xi’s unparalleled beauty to King Wen, subtly enticing him. The Chu ruler, already ambitious and susceptible to temptation, saw an opportunity—not just for conquest but for possession. Under the pretense of a diplomatic visit, King Wen marched into Xi, overthrew Marquis Xi, and claimed Lady Xi as his own.

The irony was cruel: the man who had sought revenge for his wife’s dishonor now lost both his kingdom and his queen. Meanwhile, Marquis Ai, who had orchestrated this second betrayal, initially rejoiced—until King Wen, displeased by Lady Xi’s enduring sorrow, turned his wrath back on Cai, launching another punitive campaign.

The Silent Queen and the Cost of War

Lady Xi’s fate was tragic. Though she bore King Wen two sons, she refused to speak a word to him. When pressed, she finally explained: “A woman who has served two husbands cannot die, but how can I speak without shame?” Her silent grief haunted the Chu court, and King Wen, frustrated, redirected his anger toward Cai once more.

The conflicts sparked by this affair—three wars between Chu, Xi, and Cai—exacted a heavy toll. Soldiers died, kingdoms fell, and the balance of power shifted. The personal vendettas of three rulers, all ignited by one woman’s beauty, demonstrated how easily political alliances could unravel under the weight of pride and passion.

Lessons from an Ancient Scandal

This historical episode, recorded in Sima Qian’s Records of the Grand Historian, echoes through later Chinese literature, including Wu Weiye’s Song of Yuanyuan, which famously depicted another “rage for a beauty” in the case of Ming general Wu Sangui. The story of Lady Xi serves as a timeless cautionary tale about the dangers of impulsive decisions, the fragility of honor, and the far-reaching consequences of personal grudges in politics.

In an era where diplomacy and marriage were intertwined, the downfall of Xi and Cai underscored a harsh reality: even the strongest alliances could be shattered by human weakness. The legacy of Lady Xi—a woman whose silence spoke volumes—reminds us that history is often shaped not just by battles and treaties, but by the emotions and egos of those who wield power.

For modern readers, the tale offers a sobering reflection: whether in ancient courts or contemporary politics, unchecked anger and vengeance rarely lead to victory—only to cycles of destruction. As the ancients learned too late, wisdom lies not in the heat of fury, but in the cool restraint that preserves kingdoms and dignity alike.