A Strategist’s Journey Northward

The dusty roads of ancient China stretched before Su Qin as he crossed the Yi River, entering the territory of Yan. The renowned strategist, fresh from his studies under the legendary Guiguzi, carried with him not just his traveling bags but the weight of a grand vision to reshape the warring states’ balance of power. His journey north represented more than geographical movement—it marked the beginning of a diplomatic revolution that would echo through Chinese history.

Su Qin’s first unsettling news upon entering Yan territory came like a summer storm—Duke Wen of Yan had fallen gravely ill, and the capital city of Ji had imposed a nighttime curfew. This development sent ripples of concern through the strategist’s mind. Duke Wen, having ruled for twenty-nine years, enjoyed a reputation among the central states as a wise and perceptive monarch. Su Qin had specifically chosen Yan as his starting point precisely because of this ruler’s reputed wisdom, hoping to break the political deadlock that gripped the region.

The potential death of Duke Wen threatened to derail Su Qin’s carefully laid plans. Court mourning rituals would consume months, and a new ruler would likely spend at least a year consolidating power before entertaining foreign advisors. Yet rather than discouraging him, this uncertainty only strengthened Su Qin’s resolve. He urged his carriage driver to quicken their pace, determined to reach Ji before circumstances changed irrevocably.

The Mysterious Queen of Yan

Beyond political calculations, Su Qin carried another, more personal motivation to Yan—the hope of encountering a woman who had lingered in his memory since their first meeting. Known only as “the heavenly official’s daughter,” this mysterious figure had captivated Su Qin’s imagination. His original plan had been straightforward: succeed in his mission to Yan, then formally request an audience with the queen to satisfy his curiosity. The news of Duke Wen’s illness transformed this vague wish into something more urgent.

Su Qin understood court politics well enough to recognize that a young, beautiful queen would become vulnerable during a monarch’s decline. The ruthless nature of palace intrigues meant she might face various dangers as power shifted. This realization awakened in Su Qin a chivalrous impulse—he felt compelled to offer his support to this woman standing alone against the political winds.

As his carriage finally approached the ancient fortress capital in the sweltering summer dusk, Su Qin experienced a sudden, almost magical shift in atmosphere. The oppressive heat dissipated as if he had stepped from a steamer into a cool mountain stream. The refreshing breezes from the Yan Mountains provided welcome relief from the central plains’ summer intensity, marking his full transition into Yan’s distinct world.

Trials at the City Gates

Ji’s formidable defenses became immediately apparent. Cavalry patrols monitored all approaches five or six li from the walls, enforcing slow movement and thorough inspections before granting entry. As Su Qin reached the moat, he heard the first notes of the gate-closing horns—normally sounded three times over half an hour before raising the drawbridge. Having passed inspection, he hurried his horse forward.

“Audacious! Seeking death?” A military officer yanked his reins back violently, preventing what would have been a fatal plunge into the rising drawbridge’s path. The near-disaster left Su Qin momentarily stunned.

“One evening horn closing the gates? Unprecedented!” Su Qin protested when he regained his composure.

The officer chuckled darkly. “Your temper exceeds even mine. Have you fallen from the sky? The curfew’s been in place fifteen days—early closing, late opening. You’re lucky to be alive, yet still shouting.”

Realizing his miscalculation, Su Qin sighed heavily. “Then I cannot enter tonight?”

“Tonight?” The officer laughed mirthlessly. “You might as well dream beneath the moon.”

Resigned to his fate, Su Qin sat on a stone block by the rushing moat waters, watching the moon climb over the mountains. His string of misfortunes prompted a long, despairing sigh.

The officer, completing another patrol circuit, noticed Su Qin’s lingering presence. “Still keeping vigil? Explain your urgent business—perhaps I can find a way.”

Su Qin seized the opportunity. “I am Su Qin of Luoyang, bearing vital news for Duke Wen. Assist me, and I’ll see you rewarded.”

“State business changes matters. Follow me.” The officer led Su Qin to another gate, calling up to the battlements: “Commander of the East Gate—a Luoyang scholar comes on state business! Grant him entry!”

The distant reply came: “The South Gate Commander needn’t stand on ceremony. Lower the drawbridge—”

Su Qin bowed respectfully. “So you’re the South Gate Commander. I failed to show proper respect.”

The officer laughed heartily. “One word from you makes me a general! Most gratifying!” As the drawbridge lowered, he saluted and disappeared into the night.

The Queen’s Moonlit Procession

Entering through a side gate (the main portal remaining closed), Su Qin’s curiosity prompted a question: “Why does state business permit entry here but not at the South Gate?”

The young East Gate commander answered solemnly: “The royal diviner’s prayers require the South Gate remain closed at night—opening would harm our duke’s recovery.” Though tempted to smile at this superstition, Su Qin nodded gravely at the commander’s earnest expression: “May heaven protect Yan and preserve our duke.”

At that moment, guards announced: “The queen’s carriage approaches—”

The commander instructed Su Qin to wait while the procession passed. Hearing “queen,” Su Qin’s pulse quickened. Through the shadowy gatehouse, he observed torch-bearing cavalry leading the way, followed by lantern-holding attendants surrounding an ornate carriage. Inside sat a woman in green robes and white veil—beautiful and solemn. Su Qin gripped his carriage shaft tightly, heart pounding.

“Truly a virtuous queen, daily visiting the ancestral temple to pray,” murmured a guard.

“For the duke’s recovery and her own safety,” added another.

“Hardly safe if she must pray daily,” countered a third voice before the commander silenced them.

As the procession disappeared into the palace complex, Su Qin hastened after it until protocol forced him to stop. He watched the lanterns vanish among layered palace roofs, then wandered Ji’s streets until finding lodging at an elegantly named inn—”Luoyang-Yan Residence”—run by an elderly Luoyang merchant nostalgic for his homeland.

The Strategic Awakening

Over wine with the innkeeper (who revealed surprising insight into Yan’s decline), Su Qin learned critical context about Yan’s precarious position—sandwiched between powerful Zhao and Qi, its ruling Ji clan represented the last Zhou dynasty descendants among the warring states. More intriguingly, he discovered the queen was actually a Zhou princess who had married into Yan’s ruling family hoping to revive Zhou fortunes through this last royal outpost.

This revelation reshaped Su Qin’s understanding of the mysterious woman from their earlier encounters. Far from a passive victim of political marriage, she had voluntarily entered this union as part of a calculated strategy to preserve Zhou influence—a realization that deepened Su Qin’s admiration and complicated his personal feelings.

His opportunity came unexpectedly when the queen herself appeared at his chambers that night. Their emotional reunion and strategic discussions lasted until dawn, with the queen arranging a secret audience with Duke Wen despite his supposed illness. Under moonlit pavilions by a palace lake, Su Qin presented his groundbreaking analysis:

“Yan’s survival depends on eight characters: internal reforms and external vertical alliances!” He methodically dismantled Yan’s longstanding hostility toward Zhao—its natural buffer against threats from powerful southern states. More radically, he proposed organizing all eastern states into a united front (the “Vertical Alliance”) against Qin’s westward expansion.

Duke Wen, energized by this vision, immediately appointed Su Qin as special envoy to negotiate with Zhao—bestowing honors including the title “Lord of Wu’an” but wisely avoiding a premature ministerial appointment that might provoke court opposition.

The Birth of a Grand Strategy

In the days following his royal audience, Su Qin prepared meticulously for his mission. He recruited the helpful South Gate officer (now his loyal deputy Jing Yan) and received final guidance from the queen—a moonlit message urging him to remember Yan as his strategic base regardless of diplomatic outcomes.

As Su Qin departed Ji, his carriage carried more than a diplomat—it bore the seeds of a geopolitical revolution. His proposed Vertical Alliance represented the first systematic attempt to counterbalance Qin’s rise through coordinated multilateral diplomacy rather than temporary bilateral treaties. The concept would define Warring States strategy for generations.

The queen’s parting words—”When alliances are formed, return to Yan”—spoke to both personal and political truths. Yan’s geographic position made it crucial for any lasting eastern coalition, just as Su Qin’s connection to its enlightened rulers (and the remarkable queen) anchored his sprawling ambitions. Their relationship, blending personal affection with shared strategic purpose, exemplified the complex interplay between statecraft and human bonds in this turbulent era.

Under the vast northern sky, as the Big Dipper wheeled overhead, Su Qin’s small caravan moved southward—a modest beginning to what would become one of Chinese history’s most consequential diplomatic missions. The scholar from Luoyang, once mocked for his early failures, now carried the hopes of nations and the heart of a queen as he ventured to reshape the warring world.