After a victorious campaign, Duke Zhuang of Zheng held a grand celebration in Xinzheng. Courtiers lavished praise on him, hailing him as the leader among feudal lords.
A celebration turned tense
Basking in admiration, Duke Zhuang was suddenly unsettled when he noticed Ying Kaoshu – the very minister who had once ingeniously reconciled him with his mother – shaking his head in silence.
Annoyed, the duke challenged him:
“Minister Ying, why do you say nothing?”
Ying Kaoshu replied bluntly:
“Everyone flatters you. But to be truly worthy of leadership, one must honor the Zhou king above and command obedience from other states below. Last time, you summoned Xu (in modern Xuchang, Henan) to join your campaign against Song under the king’s authority – but Xu refused. That cannot go unanswered.”
Duke Zhuang nodded gravely.
“Xu disobeys the king and offers no tribute. It must be punished.”
The banner of Heavenly Justice
In 712 BCE, Duke Zhuang prepared to invade Xu state. To legitimize the campaign, he commissioned a magnificent silk banner inscribed with four bold characters: “Feng Tian Tao Zui” (“Punishing the Guilty by Heaven’s Mandate”). The banner measured twelve chi in height and eight chi in width, mounted on a pole thirty-three chi tall, fixed atop a war chariot as a mobile standard.
He declared:
“Whoever can carry this banner and march with it shall be appointed vanguard – and the chariot is his reward.”
First, General Xia Shu Ying stepped forward – a burly man with a dark face and thick beard. He hoisted the massive pole, marched three steps forward and three back, then re-planted it without breaking a sweat. The troops roared approval.
But before he could claim the chariot, another figure emerged: Ying Kaoshu himself.
“Merely walking with it isn’t impressive,” he declared. “I’ll wield it like a spear!”
Seizing the pole, he spun it with astonishing strength – left, right, forward, backward – making the banner snap like thunder. The crowd gasped in awe.
Delighted, Duke Zhuang exclaimed:
“A tiger among generals! The chariot is yours!”
Rivalry ignites
At that moment, a strikingly handsome young nobleman stepped forward – Gongsun Zidu, famed as “the most beautiful man of the Spring and Autumn period.” Arrogant and high-born, Zidu despised Ying Kaoshu as a coarse commoner.
“If you can do it, so can I!” he snapped.
“Leave the chariot!”
Seeing Zidu’s fury and remembering his own decree, Ying Kaoshu grabbed the banner and the reins and sprinted away. Enraged, Zidu chased him with a halberd until ministers intervened.
To quell the tension, Duke Zhuang wisely awarded three chariots – one to each of the three men – declaring:
“Two tigers should not fight. All have merit.”
Ying Kaoshu, honest and unresentful, forgot the incident by morning. But Zidu’s pride festered into silent hatred.
The siege of Xu and a fatal jealousy
That July, Duke Zhuang appointed Ying Kaoshu as commander-in-chief, with Zidu and Xia Shu Ying as deputies, to lead the assault on Xu state.
Zidu, unwilling to serve under a “commoner,” split from the main force and operated independently. During the siege, Ying Kaoshu fought with unmatched valor – he slew Xu’s top general and led the charge to scale the walls. As his men piled earth into a rampart beneath the city wall, Ying Kaoshu seized the great banner and leapt onto the rampart, then vaulted onto the battlements.
Watching from below, Zidu burned with envy. Fearing Ying Kaoshu would claim sole glory, he drew his bow and – from among his own ranks – loosed a treacherous arrow into Ying Kaoshu’s back. The hero collapsed, banner and body tumbling from the wall.
Xia Shu Ying, believing his comrade fell to enemy fire, snatched the banner, scaled the wall in emulation, and rallied the troops. The city fell; Xu’s ruler fled in disguise.
False glory and Haunting guilt
Returning in triumph, Zidu claimed Ying Kaoshu’s achievements as his own. Duke Zhuang, unaware of the betrayal, honored him with gold, silks, and promotion to supreme general.
Yet doubt lingered. When the duke asked,
“How did Ying Kaoshu die?”
Zidu stammered:
“I – I think… the enemy shot him…”
His nervousness raised suspicion. Rumors spread that the fatal arrow came from behind – impossible if fired by Xu’s defenders.
Duke Zhuang summoned a shaman and ordered all soldiers to participate in a ritual curse upon the traitor who killed Ying Kaoshu.
Tormented by guilt, Zidu began to hallucinate – seeing Ying Kaoshu’s ghost mocking him as a coward and fraud. Every glance felt accusatory; every silence screamed judgment. Unable to bear the psychological torment, he finally confessed before the court:
“I shot Ying Kaoshu!”
Then he took his own life.
Only then did the truth emerge: the fairest face concealed the blackest heart. The phrase “to wound with a hidden arrow” – meaning deceitful betrayal – would echo through Chinese history, rooted in this tragic tale.
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