Character Index

  Feng Yi: A naive but good-natured merchant who was dragged into Kayla's schemes in Book 1 and Book 2. Married to Shu Ling.

  Shu Ling: Kayla's retainer, she was Feng Yi's bodyguard for a while and developed feelings for him. Retired to pursue married life with Feng Yi.

  Emre: A Turkish agent of Chuluo Khagan in Luoyang. He made some appearances in the chapters leading up to and after the Northern Journey arc in Book 2, where he was initially introduced as The Merchant. His name was first introduced in Book 2 Chapter 27-Taiyuan. He has lay low since Kayla's marriage, staying out of her attention.

  Tao Qian: Kayla's Head Retainer.

  Zhao Chao: Kayla's retainer.

  Shegui: Khagan of the Western Turkic Khaganate.

  Chuluo: Khagan of the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

  Datan: Heli's mentor, teacher, guard, and right-hand man. The person actually running the Pugu tribe in place of his teenage ward.

  Shelun: A major clan leader in the Pugu tribe. Backing anti-Heli dissidents. His son Nagai passed the Civil Exam, a rare occurrence for Tiele tribesmen who do not have access to the same educational resources as Han people due to their nomadic lifestyle and further face language barriers.

  Tiezhen: A major clan leader in the Pugu tribe.

  Anagui: A major clan leader in the Pugu tribe.

  Tuhezhen: Heli's deceased nephew. Was twice Heli's age and also had twice the popularity and influence among the Pugu.

  Heli: A sixteen-year-old boy whose hold on the seat of Chieftain is dangerously precarious. Previously had his nephew murdered on Datan's advice.

  Mingda: Sixth Princess of Emperor Xuanzong, now titled an Imperial Princess. She is disabled and unwed despite being close to thirty, and has no intention of being married at any point.

  Feng Yi helped his wife push their cart into place as the sun rose over the street. The city was stirring awake, other vendors setting up their own carts and stalls in the hazy morning light. Shu Ling promptly busied herself with their wares, her sharp concentration turned to the countless trinkets.

  “I’m off to buy breakfast,” Feng Yi said. “Do you want some sesame soup?”

  “Sure,” Shu Ling said.

  “Extra honey?” Feng Yi asked.

  “If they’re not charging too much for it,” Shu Ling called back.

  Her husband waved and headed down the street, a small spring in his step that had been there ever since their wedding.

  Shu Ling meticulously wiped down her stall with a damp cloth before she began setting up her wares. She wasn’t quite a store owner–more of a glorified peddler, really, but she was satisfied with her new life.

  Feng Yi was a diligent worker and a loving husband. Shu Ling didn’t expect to ever be rich, but she knew she could be happy.

  Shu Ling didn’t miss racing over the rooftops or standing guard in the cold wind, of worrying about what she might be ordered to do. She liked talking with customers as they warmed to her day by day, enjoyed looking someone in the eye and knowing she wouldn’t have to fight them.

  She set out the small boxes of ornaments–colorful felt flowers, little hairpieces of polished wood, bits of silvery metal–arranging them in a pleasing display of colors that drew in the wandering eye. Beside them, she made neat rows of wooden combs with small carvings of flowers and fish. The combs and ornaments would draw in the women, and the racks of necklaces she hung up now behind it would draw in the men looking to make a last-minute gift. No delicate designs here–they were all glass or clay beads with bold colors, the type that an oblivious husband might point to at random and marginally appease an angry wife with.

  Shu Ling spaced out the racks, trying to make sure it was eye-catching from any angle.

  A man’s voice rang out, its rich baritone breaking her concentration. “Miss, how much for this comb?”

  Shu Ling stiffened instinctively. She turned towards the voice, eyeing the newcomer with suspicion.

  He was a Turkish man with a powerful build, dressed as a merchant. A trained fighter, Shu Ling noted from the placement of his feet. And yet he had a friendly, open face, almost like that of a foolish youth who gawked after beauties on the street, eliciting both amusement and derision. She almost doubted her initial instincts before catching sight of his hands.

  Calluses in the weapon hand, ones that matched the grip of a blade handle.

  He followed her eyes to his hands, and openly showed them to her with a broad, boyish smile.

  Shu Ling’s mouth went dry. Swallowing nervously, she cleared her throat.

  “Which comb do you want?”

  He grabbed one at random. “This will do.”

  “That’s three bronze. I’ll pack it for you.”

  She picked up the comb, freezing as the man put a silver coin in her hand.

  Shu Ling dropped it like it had burned her hand.

  “Sir, I don’t have change for this.”

  How long had Feng Yi been gone? How long did she have before he returned? Shu Ling sized up the man across from her. Did she have to fight him? Could she win? Could she kill him? With this many witnesses around, what on earth was he trying to do?

  “You don’t need change,” the man said gently. “It’s a greeting gift.”

  “I don’t need it,” Shu Ling said. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Just want to get to know you,” the man replied. “It’s rare to see someone like you retire without needing to run. How fortunate for you and your husband.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare–”

  “Hey, relax,” the man said. “I mean no harm.” At that, he barely suppressed a laugh, tickled by his own insincerity.

  “You work for the Turks,” Shu Ling realized. Her hand went for her knife. “I could report you–I will if you don’t get out of here right now!”

  “And you no longer work for Duke Zhao,” the man said. “I wonder. How did he feel about letting you walk away?”

  Shu Ling’s heartbeat was pounding in her clenched jaw, thudding through the veins on her temples. She tightened her grasp on her knife, as tense as a drawn bow.

  “You know better than I do,” he said smugly. “How secure does he feel with you off the leash and all his secrets still in your stomach?”

  His smirk widened. “And how likely is he to act on his paranoia?”

  Her throat constricted. In the distance, a familiar figure was jaunting back with a package of food in his arms.

  The man across from her smiled with genuine delight.

  “Anyways, I just came to give my regards and to congratulate you on your marriage,” he said smugly.

  He leaned in, ignoring the sharp warning in her eyes.

  “The name is Emre,” he said. “We’ll be seeing each other again.”

  And then he was off with the comb, the silver coin still accusingly staring up at her from the table.

  Shu Ling stared after him, horror blooming in her stomach.

  She’d made a mistake. She never should have left the Zhao household–why had she been stupid enough to think it possible?

  She knew exactly what Emre had come for.

  Recruiting an informant.

  They never asked anything right away, just intimidated you bit by bit until you were almost mad, then tightened the noose around your neck.

  Shu Ling knew because she had watched it play out countless times before from the other side. If he was openly approaching her like this, then she was already trapped. They had everything they needed to force her hand.

  Her stomach churned, and Shu Ling felt the urge to vomit.

  It could be a bluff. They’re trying to scare me because they know I know the process.

  “I’m back,” Feng Yi called. Shu Ling snatched the coin out of sight. Forcing a fond smile, she felt the silver burn against her palm until it dropped inconspicuously into a pocket.

  “Goodness, how much did you buy?” Shu Ling asked, fighting to keep her tone light and friendly. “You must have grabbed up half the store!”

  “They had a good deal on sesame naan today,” Feng Yi said, not noticing the lingering discomfort. He beamed at her. “I got you extra honey in your soup.”

  “Thank you,” Shu Ling said. “I’m just about done over here, why don’t you start eating first?”

  “I’ll get the food out and wait for you,” Feng Yi called over his shoulder, grabbing a third stool to place their breakfast on.

  Sweat still cooling under her collar, Shu Ling forced herself to eat.

  I need help, Shu Ling decided. But Emre–if that was his real name, and she believed that it was, and Shu Ling knew exactly how much trouble she was in if he was telling her his real name–was right on one thing.

  If I tell Duke Zhao…Shu Ling suddenly tasted acid, and swallowed it back, eyes watering.

  She wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t bound by complicity in the Duke’s act of parricide. That was why he felt secure in letting her go, a privilege that he would not have afforded Tao Qian or Zhao Chao, and also why Emre knew he could corner her. Plus, asking for help in itself might be a trap. It could provide Emre an inroad right into the Zhao household, and maybe that was his goal in the first place.

  Her head was spinning. Was Emre one of Shegui’s spies? One of Chuluo’s? But the Duke was Chuluo’s son-in-law. Shegui then, which meant the possibility of assassination as the end goal. Which could get her and her husband killed.

  Shu Ling bit savagely into her naan, torn by indecision towards her next steps. She forced the food down her throat as Feng Yi chatted cheerfully across from her, the morning sun shining brilliantly against the grey hairs at his temples.

  This is my life now, Shu Ling told herself silently. She swirled her spoon through the sesame soup, where thick honey left clear trails where it hadn’t yet melted. It’s up to me to protect it.

  Datan surveyed the town from its walls, having finished his daily patrol. He made his way down towards the gates, nodding at the guard there. They were about the same age, and had known each other for years, having gotten comfortable enough to make small talk, a high hurdle for Datan.

  “Good weather,” Datan said.

  “Not bad at all,” the guard agreed.

  They stood in comfortable silence for a bit, watching the road into town.

  An unusual group of wagons caught Datan’s eye. The man leading them wore a beautiful coat with thin colorful stripes, an import from the Western steppes past the Altai.

  “A merchant caravan?” Datan muttered.

  “Turks,” the guard next to him helpfully supplied.

  The caravan was on its way out of town. Strange. If the caravan had stopped at the bazaar, it would be taking a different route.

  “Go ask him where he’s coming from,” Datan ordered.

  The guard jogged over to the merchants, falling in step with them and chatting a bit before jogging on back.

  “From Shelun’s house,” the guard reported.

  Datan frowned.

  “What’s Shelun doing with a Turkish merchant?” Datan asked suspiciously. “He’s not in trade.”

  “Maybe he’s looking to get into it,” the guard replied. “Money’s good these days with the war being over and all. Wish there wasn’t a sales tax though, but the amount’s enough to make up for it. Even my sister-in-law’s trying to make a few coins from the caravans with her weavings.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Tell her not to get her hopes up. Who knows how long it’ll last?” Datan said jadedly.

  The guard shrugged, not taking the words to heart.

  Datan’s thoughts turned towards Shelun instead. Shelun and Tiezhen, two of the most powerful clan leaders within the Pugu after the ruling house, had been unusually quiet as of late. The only one who still huffed and puffed and tried to challenge Heli openly was Anagui, the leader of the fourth most powerful clan.

  It wasn’t as though Tuhezhen’s death had immediately quieted Shelun and Tiezhen–this was more recent, a quiet that reeked of disquiet, one that left Datan eternally on edge.

  Perhaps it had been wrong to entrust Tuhezhen’s death to Duke Zhao. A horse accident? A stray arrow would have been more believable. The Duke’s right-hand man had simply done a sloppy job.

  Which was his own fault for entrusting it to an outsider.

  As if there’s anyone within the tribe who would take that risk for the Chieftain.

  Datan bit the inside of his cheek, an old anger resurfacing. They weren’t giving the boy a chance. Heli could become a good Chieftain, had all the right components of one, save for age and experience. If he wasn’t constantly being terrorized by his subordinates, Heli might actually develop into a proper leader faster.

  Which is exactly what they don’t want.

  Tuhezhen’s supporters wanted him as Chieftain. Except for his most influential supporters, the heads of the three major clans, who could’ve actually made him Chieftain. They hadn’t. What those three wanted was for the ruling house to fight.

  And now that there was no fight left, they needed something else.

  Quite unfortunately for Heli, and even more so for Datan who did most of the work, that something was stirring discontent against the Chieftain.

  If I can get proof that they’re behind this, I can put this whole thing down. Datan glared in the direction of Shelun’s house. If it was a popular uprising, the court might want to replace Heli. If it was a proven conspiracy by Pugu nobles, then that was treason, and Heli was safe.

  But if it’s collusion with the Turks, then with the upcoming marriage–Datan sighed wearily. They still had little say in capital politics, even with an ally in the Duke and Princess Mingda. Yet everything the capital did affected them.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a great commotion in the distance. It sounded like a mix of horses neighing and human voices.

  Where’s that?

  Datan’s scalp prickled. It was in the direction of a residential cluster–where Tiezhen lived.

  Tiezhen? He glanced after the Turkish caravan, now on its way out of town. They’d been at Shelun's–

  Cold realization dawned upon him.

  “Send someone to go take a look,” Datan ordered. The guard bowed and ran off to locate one of his juniors, sending the reluctant young man off on horseback.

  It didn’t take long for Datan’s worst fears to come true.

  The junior guard returned, looking green in the face.

  “Sir,” he said between heavy gasps, out-of-breath. “Sir, they–”

  “What?!”

  “Tiezhen’s denounced the Chieftain!”

  Datan turned away from the junior guard sharply, half-blind with rage.

  Fuck. Shelun, that crazy bastard!

  Heli gulped nervously as he took the communication device with shaking hands. He couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking. Over the past few weeks, the strange new malady had appeared out of nowhere, and seemed to have nothing to do with his actual health.

  Things were falling apart. They were very much falling apart, and he didn’t know whether it was his fault. Maybe it was the fault of Duke Zhao’s agents–why had they killed Tuhezhen in such an obvious way? But then again, Duke Zhao had been against it in the first place. Hadn’t it been Heli who insisted?

  Well, he hadn’t wanted to, not really. But it had seemed like the right thing to do, and Datan wasn’t wrong when he said that Tuhezhen was fomenting rebellion. The man had taken to using the same rites as a Chieftain, blatantly transgressing Heli’s authority at every chance he got. Well, Tuhezhen was dead now, and Heli was still facing the threat of a rebellion.

  He dropped his face into his hands, steeling himself before reaching for the communication device again. It seemed to bring him nothing but bad news these days.

  Murmurs of unrest. Whispered suspicions. Accusatory glances that followed him everywhere. Nobles and clan heads secretly taking stances, coming to agreements, disloyalty all around, even amongst Heli’s personal guard.

  He only had Datan to rely on, which really wasn’t enough. The right thing to do was to run to Duke Zhao for help and plead until he got it. Heli didn’t think Duke Zhao would make him grovel for it much, but the thought of admitting how much he had let things spiral out of control made him sick to the stomach.

  Now, the Duke’s accusing message stared him in the face, and Heli suddenly was bereft of pleas or excuses, being entirely lost for words.

  He hadn’t even formed even the vestiges of a response yet when there was another notification.

  The communication device showed a message from Datan.

  The message was short and urgent. Heli could almost hear the tense curtness in Datan’s voice.

  “Tiezhen and his clan have denounced you as the Chieftain of the Pugu.”

  Heli stared at it in disbelief. He’d known that things could get worse, but he hadn’t really pieced together just how much worse they could get. He knew, on some vague and abstract level, that this could happen. But it was just too much for him. Heli couldn’t even comprehend what it meant, what the consequences were, what it would all require him to do.

  Heli groaned, burying his face in his hands again. The communication device began ringing. Despite the paralyzing fear that kept him frozen solid, Heli forced his hand forward until it had hit the answer button.

  “My lord,” Datan’s voice rang out grimly. “Tiezhen has officially denounced you for the murder of Tuhezhen and has called for a convening of the elders to select a new Chieftain.”

  “Tengri help me!” Heli cried, on the verge of tears. “Tiezhen’s one of the most influential clan leaders, what on earth am I supposed to do against him?!”

  “Tiezhen isn’t the real problem here. Shelun is. He’s behind this. It’s only a matter before Shelun and Anagui also declare against you, but Shelun will be the one laughing in the end!”

  “Shelun?! Him too?! We’re done for! It’s all over!”

  “Calm down, my lord,” Datan barked. “Beg Duke Zhao for help, immediately. And if he will not grant it, then beg him for shelter. The situation is far beyond what we can handle by our own means by now.”

  At the long silence that drew out, Datan lost his patience.

  “My lord, make the damn call!”

  Heli couldn’t. Last time he had made the call, Duke Zhao had refused to kill Tuhezhen. And then Heli had pleaded until the Duke changed his mind, and then–and then–

  His heart was thumping way too loudly. Heli was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to feel it to this extent, that his heart was thudding against his ribcage like this, or at least that was what it seemed. The world was unbearably hot all of a sudden, and sweat was dripping into his eyes even as his vision spun and spotted. The shaking in his hands had gotten worse, and was traversing through his entire body.

  A sense of dread in his gut told Heli everything he needed to know.

  I’m dying, Heli realized in horror. I’m being punished by the gods.

  Datan was still saying something over the device, but Heli couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood swooshing in his ears. Terrified to the bone, he curled in on himself and waited for fate to deal its final blow.

  The moment dragged out, excruciatingly long. And then it faded.

  Heli didn’t know how long it had lasted, only that Datan was still on the call. His hands steadied and his vision cleared somewhat. The heat had dropped to a manageable degree and Heli felt like was going to sink into the floor and then straight on into the ground. His head was still spinning, and he was nauseous though he didn’t think he would puke.

  “I think I’m going to die,” Heli said in a small voice. Unable to muster the energy to respond to Datan’s horrified questions, Heli sank to the floor and sat there in silence.

  Datan burst into the Chieftain’s private chambers, shoving aside a guard who hadn’t moved aside fast enough.

  “My lord? My lord!”

  Heli looked ready to hurl, shaky on his feet as he approached Datan. The boy’s face contorted in shame and fear as Datan hastily patted him down for injuries.

  “What did you eat? What did you drink?!” Datan demanded.

  “Only the tested stuff,” Heli said. “I…I don’t know, I’m fine now, but I really thought I was going to die.” He flushed red up to his ears. Datan stared at him incredulously.

  “What happened?” Datan asked, trying to keep his voice calm at least, if not gentle.

  “My heart was pounding so much,” Heli said, a childish confusion in his voice, like a little boy talking about something he couldn’t understand. “It was so hot, and I couldn’t see right. I thought the gods were punishing me.”

  “I’m calling a healer,” Datan said. He already had. He strode out of the room to where a healer was awkwardly waiting for him, sweaty and out-of-breath. The poor man had been summoned by Datan in very short notice, and had obviously done some running to get here in time.

  “Get in here,” Datan ordered, with no energy to spare for niceties.

  “My lord,” the healer greeted Heli, who looked mortified.

  “Heal him,” Datan ordered.

  The healer obliged. Apologetically, the man bowed his head.

  “My lord, there’s nothing wrong with you,” the healer said.

  “What do you mean there’s nothing wrong?!” Datan demanded. “Are we paying you to do nothing?!”

  “It’s the same as with the lord’s hand tremors,” the healer said uncomfortably. “There really is nothing I can do, since he is in perfect health. It’s not a physical ailment.”

  Heli seemed to grow more mortified by the second, and Datan jerked his head at the healer, signalling that the visit was over.

  “I’m very sorry for my incompetence, my lord.”

  Datan sighed and walked the healer out of the bedroom. Lowering his voice, he placed a hand on the healer’s shoulder.

  “What do you think might be causing this?” Datan asked.

  “Perhaps it’s a disease of the mind,” the healer replied. “His father’s side had no history of the disease, but I wouldn’t know about his mother’s clan.”

  “He’s never been unwell in the head before,” Datan insisted. “I would know, I practically raised him!”

  “I…beg your pardon for saying this…but perhaps…” The healer trailed off uncomfortably. “Perhaps the stress of the role is too much for him.”

  Datan resisted the urge to hit the healer in the face.

  “Go on then,” Datan said in frustration. “And say nothing about this.”

  The healer bowed and left in a hurry. Datan followed the man outside before scanning the hallway.

  “Did something happen?” One of the guards asked. Datan gave the man a furious glare and went inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

  He didn’t know whether to be glad that the guards hadn’t seen Heli in a vulnerable state or furious that they hadn’t even noticed something wrong. Datan felt like he would implode with the worry swelling inside him. How on earth were they going to face this crisis with Heli’s health worsening? And what was even wrong with the boy? Datan must have gone wrong somewhere in taking care of him–they said that healthy children could suddenly become sickly in their teens and wither away before adulthood. Was that what was happening with his charge?

  “I’m sorry,” Heli said quietly.

  “It’s not your fault, my lord.” Datan heaved a sigh, sitting down next to the boy. It was. For being too young, too frightened, too incapable of outwitting grown men twice or more his age—but who could you really blame for that?

  “We can’t handle this,” Datan said. “We need the Duke to intervene.”

  Heli’s face paled, but he nodded.

  “The Duke was asking about this,” Heli said, looking as if he would throw up.

  “I’ll make the call if you’re alright with that,” Datan offered.

  Heli nodded again, this time with such enthusiasm that it looked a little ridiculous.

  Sighing, Datan took up the communication device and sent out a message, silently praying for its recipient to take pity upon them.

  Cultural Notes

  Sesame naan: A popular food in the Tang Dynasty. The naan we refer to in-story is closer to the hard, round baked breads we find in Central Asia today rather than South Asian naan. Looks something like this:

  Sesame soup: Often a soup made of ground black sesame cooked in water until thick. It is highly nutritious and has a nutty aroma, and is usually served sweet. Usually served hot, it is very comforting during cold weather and remains popular today. Also a popular dish in the Tang Dynasty.

  绒花/Felt flowers: A traditional craft in Ancient China, felt flowers were often used as hair ornaments. They are significantly cheaper and easier to store than glass, metals, or precious gems, and could be made DIY.

  Here is an example:

  Mental health and panic attacks in Ancient China: Mental illnesses very much existed in Ancient China despite many people who claim that these are all "modern illnesses", and a lot of the behaviors that our mentally unwell characters in the Imperial family exhibit in-story are based on historical precedent. This is a little long, but I've been wanting to provide some background on this for a while. Ancient Chinese medicine had a far less systemic understanding of mental health and psychotic conditions than we do today, but very much did understand that such conditions existed. These were often treated as being directly linked with physical health, rather than being treated as a separate realm of medicine as we see today. In the Esoteric Scripture of the Yellow Emperor, the doctrinal source of Chinese medicine, it is written that "怒伤肝，喜伤心，思伤脾，忧伤肺，恐伤肾/[Excessive] anger harms the liver, joy harms the heart, anxiety harms the spleen, sadness harms the lungs, fear harms the kidneys", where we see a direct connection being made between emotions and physical health. However, Heli's panic attack and somatic disorder would have been understood as primarily being a mood disorder at the time that is shaped by his external circumstances, and most doctors would have had little ways to treat it other than prescribing some form of relaxant for when he does have a panic attack.

  One of the most common understandings of depression back then was "郁郁而终/Falling into depression and dying", often referring to people whose health rapidly deteriorated after becoming depressed. One example of this includes the Han Dynasty scholar Jia Yi, who died at 33 after suffering a mental health breakdown after the death of a prince under his tutelage in a horse-riding accident (yes Archduke Qi was partially modeled after him). Even earlier, we had the pre-Qin noble Zi Chong from the Kingdom of Chu who suffered from depression and died shortly after he lost a major battle and was blamed for the kingdom's losses.

  Generally, treatments varied greatly, and so did their effects. We also see descriptions of what might be depression or post-partum mood disorders among women by Han dynasty doctors, with mood swings, especially prolonged sadness and weeping, wanting to die, etc., for which doctors recommended concoctions of jujube dates and ginger. This had limited effects, as many women suffered from living under the oppression and abuse of their husbands and in-laws, which herbal concoctions couldn't help them with. As a result, female suicide, especially in rural areas, was often high. One legal case in the late Qing dynasty saw a woman who killed herself after "pigs knocked over the soybeans she was drying". In reality, this was probably closer to a mental breakdown following long-term unhappiness, but the judge ruled that "the reason was preposterous." In the end, it was ruled that the woman killed herself after being afflicted by supernaturally induced madness.

  Some treatments for depression seem to be similar to modern-day therapy, albeit not so structured nor systemic. For example, a pre-Qin King of Qi suffered depression, and his doctor treated this by repeatedly showing up late to appointments with an extremely arrogant attitude. The King was provoked to stewing in anger instead of feeling sad, resulting in an outburst of rage that brought an end to his symptoms. A Northern Song dynasty writer and official was recommended musical therapy by a friend, or to play an instrument whenever he suffered bouts of depression. In a more recent example (within the last five centuries), a Qing dynasty official suffered from depression and melancholy, and sought out an old doctor. The doctor joked to him, "It's because your menstrual cycle is out of sync and your period is late", which tickled the official so much that he couldn't keep from laughing every time he thought back to it. Whenever he started worrying about his symptoms again, he thought of the doctor's words and was brought to a better mood, which eventually put an end to his symptoms altogether.

  We also see records of what are potentially OCD, anxiety, or post-traumatic disorders, as well as what seems to be bipolar disorders where someone is recorded as being full of excessive energy to the point of behaving erratically and barely sleeping at all, followed by bouts of depression and lethargy. Some of these disorders are reflected in proverbs. For example, the proverb "杞人忧天/The man from Ji worries about the sky", referring to unfounded, irrational fears. This is based on the story of a man from the pre-Qin Kingdom of Ji, who was irrationally afraid that the sky would fall down. Another example is the proverb "杯弓蛇影/Bow in the cup shadow of the snake", where a guest saw the reflection of a bow on the wall in his cup and became irrationally afraid that it was a snake, resulting in lasting anxiety and physical discomfort for an extended time afterwards.

  There are also countless examples of what modern-day psychologists might categorize as schizophrenia or other psychotic disorders, sometimes where people hurt themselves or had bouts of violence or irrational behavior. These were all categorized as "going mad", similar to corresponding understandings elsewhere in the world. We also see people who "die of anger", or "cough up blood and die" after extreme bouts of anger, fear, or sadness. These are now believed to be linked to blood pressure, heart attacks, and stomach ulcers that are triggered by extreme emotion.