In Chapter 23 of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, a haunting scene unfolds: Imperial Physician Ji Ping, determined to rid the Han court of its greatest threat, attempts to poison Cao Cao. But Cao Cao, ever vigilant, has already uncovered the plot. He feigns ignorance, lures Ji Ping into action—and catches him red-handed.
“Knowing his plan was exposed, Ji Ping strode forward, seized Cao Cao by the ear, and tried to force the poison down his throat. Cao Cao shoved him away; the medicine splashed onto the floor, and the bricks cracked from its potency. Before Cao Cao could speak, his guards seized Ji Ping.”
— Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Chapter 23
This moment is more than a failed assassination—it is a mirror held up to Cao Cao’s own past, a stark contrast between the young idealist who once sought to slay a tyrant and the ruthless warlord he has become.
The Irony of Courage: Ji Ping vs. the Young Cao Cao
Readers cannot help but recall an earlier episode: Cao Cao’s own attempt to assassinate Dong Zhuo.
When Dong Zhuo seized control of the capital and terrorized the court, the young Cao Cao—then a minor official—took a Seven-Star Blade borrowed from Wang Yun and crept to Dong Zhuo’s bedside, ready to strike. But at the critical moment, Dong Zhuo awoke. Instead of lunging forward with resolve, Cao Cao dropped to his knees, claiming he had come only to present the blade as a gift.
He escaped with his life—thanks to quick thinking—but not with honor.
Now, decades later, Ji Ping stands where Cao Cao once faltered. Unlike the young Cao Cao, Ji Ping acts with unwavering resolve, fully prepared to die. He does not beg, bargain, or flee. Even when captured, he refuses to betray his cause.
The irony is piercing:
The man who once lacked the courage to kill a tyrant has now become the tyrant others are willing to die to destroy.
From reformer to regent
Cao Cao once despised Dong Zhuo as the ultimate traitor—a usurper who held the emperor hostage and ruled through fear.
Yet history repeats itself in cruel symmetry.
By “holding the Son of Heaven to command the feudal lords“, Cao Cao has become what he once vowed to destroy.
When he sees Ji Ping—a mere physician—risk everything to save the crumbling Han dynasty, what does Cao Cao feel?
Guilt? Contempt? Or the cold recognition that he is now the dragon, and Ji Ping the would-be slayer?
The Romance suggests Cao Cao has long abandoned his original ideals. His path, once aimed at restoring order under the Han, has veered irreversibly toward personal dominion. There is no turning back.
The bloody purge
Upon discovering the anti-Cao coalition, known as the Girdle Edict incident—led by Dong Cheng and including Ji Ping—Cao Cao does not show mercy. Instead, he stages a banquet, a macabre theater of terror reminiscent of the ancient Feast at Hongmen.
There, he drags out the tortured Ji Ping, already broken but unbroken in spirit. To extract a confession from Dong Cheng, Cao Cao orders Ji Ping’s ten fingers cut off.
Yet even then, Ji Ping curses Cao Cao, refusing to yield.
As Cao Cao commands his tongue to be cut out, Ji Ping gathers his last strength, turns toward Dong Cheng, and asks:
“Which way lies the imperial palace?”
Then, with a final act of defiance, he rams his head against the steps facing the palace—dying as a loyal servant of the Han.
The last true loyalist
In the chaotic world of the Three Kingdoms—where warlords cloak ambition in the rhetoric of “restoring the Han”—Ji Ping stands apart.
He is no general, no noble, no strategist—just a court physician. Yet he embodies true loyalty:
- He acts without hope of reward,
- He endures unspeakable torture,
- He protects his comrades,
- And in death, he chooses direction over survival—dying while facing the imperial palace, the symbol of the dynasty he served.
His suicide is not despair—it is a final declaration. While others use the Han as a banner for power, Ji Ping gives his life for its soul.
In doing so, he preserves the last shred of dignity for a dying empire—and exposes the hollowness of those who claim to serve it.
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