A Fateful Summons in Kunming

On November 21, 1673, Zhu Guozhi, the governor of Yunnan, received an ominous invitation from Wu Sangui, the Prince of Pingxi. The pretext was administrative—a discussion about the ongoing policy of feudal lords’ demobilization . But Zhu, a controversial figure known as “Zhu the White Ground” for his dual reputation as both a corrupt official and a ruthless enforcer, sensed the gravity of the moment. Dressing in full ceremonial robes, he strode defiantly from his office. Historians would later note the paradox: a man infamous for graft faced death with unflinching loyalty to the Qing throne.

Wu Sangui’s Audacious Betrayal

The Pingxi Prince’s mansion was armed to the teeth. Wu, once a Ming general who had defected to the Qing in 1644, now assembled his four garrisons and ten battalions to declare open rebellion. His proclamation condemned the Qing as usurpers who “stole our dynasty’s sacred mandate and altered Han traditions,” vowing to “restore the Ming’s cultural legacy.” The irony was palpable—Wu had sworn allegiance to the Qing for three decades, even overseeing the capture and execution of the last Ming claimant, the Yongli Emperor, in 1662. His theatrical mourning at Yongli’s tomb that day was a masterclass in political cynicism.

Zhu Guozhi’s Execution and the Bloody Prelude

Zhu and other Qing loyalists, including Yunnan’s judicial commissioner, were seized immediately. Wu, recognizing their unyielding allegiance, ordered their execution as sacrificial offerings for his rebellion’s banner. The next day, the 62-year-old Wu, clad in armor, inspected his troops with a display of archery prowess—three arrows hitting dead center—a symbolic revival of his warlord heyday.

The Fall of Guizhou: Treachery and Dilemmas

By December 1, Wu’s forces, clad in white mourning garb, marched toward Guizhou. The province’s governor, Gan Wenkun, urgently mobilized defenses, but his subordinate Li Benshen, the military commander, betrayed him. Gan’s impassioned letter invoking Tang-era martyrs like Zhang Xun fell on deaf ears. Li scoffed: “Since when did I seem like a man who’d die for loyalty?”

The defection of Guizhou’s governor, Cao Shenji, added ambiguity. A literary prodigy who passed the imperial exams at 17, Cao’s fate split historical records: some claimed he joined Wu, while local annals portrayed him as a martyr. This unresolved debate underscores the chaos of the era.

Gan Wenkun’s Impossible Choice

Abandoned by his army—who declared loyalty only to Wu, their benefactor—Gan found贵阳 defenseless. His appeals to officials met with silence. As Wu’s white banners appeared on the horizon, Gan gathered his family. The decision was stark: surrender or die. Choosing the latter, he ordered his sons to flee before taking his own life, a final act of defiance that cemented his place in Qing historiography as a zhongchen .

The Cultural and Historical Legacy

The 1673 revolt, though ultimately crushed by 1681, exposed Qing vulnerabilities. Wu’s betrayal became synonymous with opportunism, while figures like Zhu and Gan were rehabilitated as moral counterweights. The episode also highlighted ethnic tensions—Han officials navigating loyalty to the Manchu regime versus Ming nostalgia—a theme that resonated through later rebellions like the Taiping uprising.

For modern readers, these events offer a timeless study of power, ideology, and the complex calculus of survival in turbulent times. The “white-clad rebellion” remains a poignant chapter in China’s transition from Ming collapse to Qing consolidation, where personal honor clashed with political pragmatism.