A Culture of Conspicuous Consumption
In the early Western Jin dynasty (265–316 CE), extravagance became a badge of honor among the aristocracy. Whether veteran ministers or newly risen nobles, all measured status not by virtue or service – but by how lavishly they could spend.
Take He Zeng, one of the founding elders of the Jin regime. Once respected for his integrity, in old age he descended into obsessive luxury. His robes were woven with unimaginable splendor; his meals surpassed even imperial standards. He spent 10,000 qian (coins) daily on food – enough to feed a peasant family for months – yet often pushed his dishes away, sighing, “I can’t even find a place to start eating!” He was simply satiated beyond pleasure.
His son, He Shao, outdid him. Upon entering office, he doubled his father’s daily food budget to 20,000 coins, consuming every rare delicacy from land and sea.
Royal Connections, Reckless Indulgence
Then there was Wang Ji, son of General Wang Hun and son-in-law to Emperor Wu himself. Unchecked by consequence, he turned wealth into theater. In expensive Luoyang – where commoners struggled to afford housing – Wang Ji bought vast tracts of land not to live on, but to build a private racetrack. He lined its edges with strings of copper coins, calling it the “Golden Gutter”.
His culinary excesses shocked even the emperor. When Emperor Wu visited his daughter, Wang Ji served exquisite dishes in translucent glass bowls. One dish – tender steamed suckling pig – so pleased the emperor that he asked for the recipe. Wang Ji replied casually: “It was raised on human milk… and steamed in human milk.”
Emperor Wu, revolted, left the table mid-meal.
Naked Feasts and Moral Collapse
This decadence spread like contagion. Young aristocrats, idle and talentless, gathered for orgiastic banquets where men and women stripped naked and gorged themselves in public. But their favorite pastime wasdou fu – “competing in wealth” – a public contest to see who could display the most outrageous opulence.
Enter Shi Chong, son of Grand Tutor Shi Bao. Once a capable general who contributed to the conquest of Wu, Shi Chong soon abandoned duty for greed. Through ruthless exploitation and likely outright banditry (as later records suggest), he amassed staggering riches. He built the legendary “Jin Valley Garden” Jingu Yuan) outside Luoyang – a pleasure estate so lavish it became synonymous with excess.
Even his latrine reflected his mania. When official Liu Shi visited and needed relief, he entered what he thought was a bedroom: silk mosquito nets hung overhead, fresh quilts lay folded, and two maids stood holding perfumed sachets. Horrified, Liu Shi apologized for intruding on Shi Chong’s inner chamber. “No,” Shi Chong laughed, “that’s the toilet.” Guests were required to strip, be washed and scented by attendants, then dress in new robes before exiting. Liu Shi, too stunned to use it, held his bladder until he reached home.
The Great Wealth Duel: Shi Chong vs. Wang Kai
Wang Kai, the emperor’s maternal uncle, prided himself on his fortune – but grew furious hearing of Shi Chong’s fame. Determined to outshine him, he began a series of public challenges.
First, Wang Kai had his servants wash pots and pans with syrup made from malt and rice – pure waste meant to signal abundance. Shi Chong responded by ordering his kitchen fires stoked not with wood, but with pure white wax.
When Wang Kai coated his walls with red ochre (a fragrant medicinal clay), Shi Chong replastered his entire mansion with mud mixed with imported Sichuan pepper – creating “pepper rooms” that smelled divine and retained heat. Pepper was a rare foreign import; few outside the palace had ever seen it.
Undeterred, Wang Kai erected a 40 li (about 20 km) barrier of purple silk along a road during a family outing – a mobile wall of exclusivity. Crowds gathered to gawk. Shi Chong heard the news and immediately ordered a 50li barrier made of brocade. His procession drew even larger crowds.
Humiliated, Wang Kai appealed to his nephew, Emperor Wu: “As your uncle, I’m being shamed by this upstart! It reflects poorly on the imperial house!”
The emperor, amused, gifted him a rare treasure: a coral tree, over two feet tall, crimson-white, branch-laden, grown only in distant seas. “Shi Chong has never seen anything like this,” the emperor said. “Show it to him – he’ll bow in awe.”
The Coral Tree Incident
Wang Kai proudly displayed the coral tree at Shi Chong’s mansion. As expected, Shi Chong examined it closely – then suddenly grabbed an ironruyi (ceremonial scepter) and smashed it to pieces.
Wang Kai nearly fainted. “You madman! You’ll pay for this!”
Shi Chong merely smirked. “Don’t worry. Take your pick.” He ordered his servants to bring out his collection. Six or seven coral trees appeared – each three to four feet tall, more luminous and exquisitely formed than Wang Kai’s gift.
Speechless, Wang Kai left in defeat. From that day, he stopped competing – and began copying.
Secrets of Luxury – and Betrayal
Wang Kai couldn’t understand how Shi Chong served hot bean porridge instantly, offered fresh “chopped leeks” in winter, or always won their chariot races into the city gates.
He bribed a servant in Shi Chong’s household, who revealed the tricks:
- Bean porridge? Pre-cooked beans mixed into freshly boiled rice.
- Winter “leeks”? Chopped wheat sprouts dyed green.
- Faster ox-carts? Drivers subtly twisted the yoke to irritate the oxen, making them bolt.
Wang Kai adopted all three. Soon, his guests praised his swift meals and “fresh” greens. In races, he finally beat Shi Chong.
But Shi Chong discovered the betrayal. Enraged, he executed the informant.
Cruelty as Entertainment
Such men saw human life as disposable. At banquets, Wang Kai forced singing girls to perform flawlessly. Once, a musician hit a wrong note – he had her beheaded on the spot. He warned others: “If a guest refuses wine, you die.”
When cousins Wang Dao and Wang Dun visited, Wang Dao – though unable to drink – emptied his cup to save the girl’s life. Wang Dun, defiant, refused. The singer knelt, weeping. Wang Dun ignored her. Wang Kai killed her instantly.
Shi Chong was no better. As Inspector of Jing Province, he allegedly ordered his soldiers to rob merchants and even foreign envoys carrying tribute. His wealth became incalculable – and infamous.
Voices of Warning
Not all were silent. Cheqi Sima Fu Xian memorialized Emperor Wu: “Today’s extravagance is more dangerous than natural disaster!” The recluse scholar Lu Bao wrote the satirical essay “Discourse on the God of Money” (Qian Shen Lun), mocking society’s obsession with coin. He coined the term “Brother Kong Fang” (referring to the square hole in round coins) and declared: “With money, you can command ghosts. Without it, even kin abandon you.”
Rumors spread: one night, all the rice in Shi Chong’s granaries turned into snails – an omen of ruin. Though superstitious, the people sensed truth: such arrogance could not last.
And indeed, disaster loomed. Within years, the Jin court would collapse into civil war – the catastrophic War of the Eight Princes – fueled by the very greed, vanity, and moral rot glorified in these contests of wealth.
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