The Ambitious Vision of a Unifier

Emperor Hailing of the Jin Dynasty, born Wanyan Liang, was a ruler consumed by the dream of unifying China under his rule. His ambitions were vividly captured in a poem he inscribed on a painted screen depicting the landscapes of Hangzhou, the Southern Song capital:

> “Ten thousand miles of chariots and writing unified as one,
> Could the lands south of the Yangtze truly stand apart?
> A million soldiers march upon West Lake’s shore,
> Upon Wu Mountain’s highest peak, my steed shall roar.”

This verse echoed the legendary unification of China by Qin Shi Huang, who standardized scripts and cart measurements. For Hailing, the Southern Song’s existence was an affront to his vision of a singular empire. His determination to conquer the south was absolute—yet his reign would unravel in a storm of tyranny, rebellion, and betrayal.

The Road to Conquest: Mobilization and Repression

In 1161, Hailing launched his southern campaign, mobilizing vast conscript armies, particularly from the Khitan tribes under Jin rule. The Khitan, once rulers of the Liao Dynasty, had been subjugated by the Jurchen-led Jin. Hailing believed his preferential treatment of Khitan officials—at one point, half his cabinet was Khitan—would secure their loyalty. But this was no act of benevolence. He distrusted his own Jurchen nobility, fearing plots among rival clans. The Khitan, aware they were mere political tools, resented the conscription that left their northern homelands defenseless against Mongol raids.

When Khitan leaders pleaded for a delay in conscription, Hailing erupted in fury: “How dare you grow insolent from my favor?” The refusal sparked rebellion. Hailing dispatched Khitan general Xiao Huaizhong to suppress the uprising, but when Xiao failed, he was executed. The Khitan then crowned a descendant of the old Liao royal house, Yelü, transforming revolt into a war of independence.

Hailing’s response was merciless: he ordered the extermination of all male descendants of the Liao and Song imperial families—130 were slaughtered. Women were spared, but only to be confined in his harem. “Let no seed of rebellion remain,” he declared.

The Descent into Madness

Even his family dared not challenge him. When his stepmother, Empress Dowager Shidan, warned that his actions would destroy the Jin, Hailing had her killed, her ashes cast into water. Seventy of her maids followed. “Who now dares defy me?” he roared.

As his army marched south, dissent festered. Conscription and heavy taxes bred exhaustion and revolt. Rebel leaders like Wang Jiu of Daming Prefecture seized cities. Yet no advisor risked reporting these uprisings—Hailing executed messengers for “spreading panic.” Soldiers deserted in droves, some openly declaring for his cousin, Wanyan Yong, the Tokyo (Liaoyang)留守.

The Fall: Rebellion and Assassination

Wanyan Yong, later Emperor Shizong, had been governing the east when news of Hailing’s matricide reached him. “The Jin is doomed,” he lamented. His advisors urged him to seize the throne: “If you do not act, you will be next.” In October 1161, Yong proclaimed himself emperor, decrying Hailing’s tyranny.

Meanwhile, Hailing’s campaign floundered. The Jin, a horseback people, faltered in naval battles. At the Yangtze, Song general Yu Yunwen repelled their crossing. Frantic, Hailing ordered a suicidal assault: “Cross within three days or die.”

That night, his generals conspired. Led by Khitan-turned-Jurchen commander Wanyan Yiyuan, they surrounded Hailing’s camp at Guishan Temple. Without resistance from his guards—complicit in their disdain—Yiyuan stabbed the emperor to death. Hailing perished at 40, abandoned by all.

Legacy: A Tyrant Erased

The Jin army immediately withdrew, ceding conquered lands to the Song. Hailing’s death marked a pivot: Shizong prioritized quelling the Khitan revolt over southern expansion. Posthumously stripped of his imperial title, Hailing was branded “the Deposed Prince of Hailing”—a cautionary tale of hubris. His reign exposed the fragility of power built on fear, and his dream of unification died with him, leaving the Jin to confront its fractures under a wiser ruler.

In the annals of history, Hailing stands as a paradox: a visionary who sought to emulate Qin Shi Huang’s unity, yet whose brutality ensured his empire’s unraveling. His poem’s defiant imagery—”my steed upon Wu Mountain”—rings hollow against the reality of a tyrant who could not command loyalty, even from those who served him.