Act 1: Wang Yun's "Avengers Alliance" Project
Snowflakes danced through the lantern-lit streets of Chang'an in the last month of winter. Up in his attic, Minister Wang Yun—official title: Sītú—shivered beneath a fur-lined mink coat so thick it looked like a small bear had been sacrificed for its warmth. In his gloved hand he gripped a crumpled sheepskin scroll, inked in bold vermilion: "Avengers Alliance Plan v1.0." Tiny red ticks and frantic scribbles covered the margins—this was revision number thirty-seven.
"Step 1: Wedge between Dong Zhuo and Lü Bu (✓ complete)"
"Step 2: Compile Dong Zhuo's dirt dossier (✓ complete, evidence attached)"
"Step 3: Hire the perfect assassin (….. scratched out—budget shortfall!)"
Wang Yun let out a tortured sigh, his breath freezing into clouds. From the frosted window, he eyed the plume of smoke rising above Weiyang Palace and muttered, "That gluttonous tyrant Dong Zhuo is throwing another barbecue in the courtyard—heard he skewered three dissenting ministers into human kebabs last night…"
"Master, Lord Wen has arrived." The butler, Old Wang, scuttled in. His ancient knees rattled like maracas in the snow. "But…he brought two hundred personal guards and has circled our mansion thrice. The kitchen maids won't even step outside to fetch vegetables."
Wang Yun smoothed his robes, then caught sight of himself in a tarnished bronze mirror. He gasped: "Holy—my hairline's receding again! Last month it was barely above my eyebrows!" He stroked his thinning pate in agony. "It's that pig Dong Zhuo stressing me out… At this rate, I'll be president of the 'Great Han Bald Club.'"
The attic door burst open. In strode Lü Bu, a gale of icy wind swirling after him. He tossed off a white fox-fur cloak so blindingly luxurious it looked stolen from a snow queen—for good measure, rumor said it took a hundred arctic foxes to make. The animal-rights leagues had reportedly blacklisted it in blood.
"Sītú, nice get-up…" Wang Yun squinted at Lü Bu's glimmering soft armor. "Are you modeling for Chang'an Fashion Week? Is 'show-your-armor' the new trend this year?"
Lü Bu snorted, slinging the cloak at a flunkey. "You didn't summon me at midnight just to critique my wardrobe, old man." He flopped into the chair, crossing one leg over the other, and began drumming his fingers on the desk. "Spit it out—I have to give Red Hare her beauty bath later."
Wang Yun leaned in, conspiratorial. He tugged the curtains shut, then produced a projector—"Mozi tech," he winked—and aimed it at the wall. Instantly, a screenshot of Dong Zhuo's latest social-media post lit up the screen:
"Happy news today~ Killed three more censors; strung them up at the palace gate as lanterns~"
Image: Dong Zhuo grinning in a selfie with three dangling corpses. Background music: "Good Luck Arrives."
Lü Bu's face darkened to storm-cloud gray. "He—what the hell—"
"Wait, there's more!" Wang Yun cackled, flipping to the next slide: a group-chat transcript from the "Xiliang BBQ Stall (Group of 3)."
Dong Zhuo (@all): "Let's arrange a little 'accident' for Lü Bu."
Li Jue: "Master, genius plan! Maybe stage a carriage crash?"
Guo Si: "Food poisoning would seem more—natural~"
Zhang Ji: "I know a guy who sells pufferfish…"
Enraged, Lü Bu crushed the bronze wine goblet in his fist—plumes of purple wine splashed across his armor. "That old bastard's gone too far!"
Wang Yun pounced, sliding a thick dossier across the desk. "Here—my full investigation into how Dong Zhuo forced you to kill Ding Yuan. Witness statements, DNA-level evidence, even the palace surveillance footage." He lowered his voice. "I even tracked down Ding Yuan's old stableman—he's now a Didi driver in Bingzhou."
In the next heartbeat, Lü Bu unsheathed his sword and cleaved the desk in two. Splinters flew. "I'm gonna carve that fat jerk into kebabs! Then I'll use his grease to light the sky lanterns!"
Wang Yun flinched at the ruined rosewood desk—"pure Huanghuali, a gift from the late emperor!"—but the warlord's eyes burned with murder. Lü Bu grabbed Wang Yun by the collar. "Enough chatter—what's your next command?"
Act 2: The "Real-World Battle Royale" at Weiyang Palace
Two days later—snow still drifting—and Dong Zhuo's gilded carriage rolled toward Weiyang, drawn by sixteen stallions bred for war, equipped with leather seats and its own icehouse. The "Xiliang Group" logo gleamed on its side next to Dong Zhuo's motto in black: "Obey me and prosper; oppose me and perish; resist, and I'll roast you alive."
Inside, Dong Zhuo sprawled on soft cushions, scrolling Douyin (China's TikTok) on his upgraded jade seal (fingerprint-locked, of course). He chuckled at a dance video—then froze at a new upload from Diao Chan:
"Missing big brother for the third day~ 💔"
Background track: "Cold, Cold…"
Without hesitation, Dong Zhuo tapped @Lü Bu: "Son, tonight I dine with Diao Chan. You patrol the gates. I'll bring back barbecue. 😉"
At the front of the escort, Li Su—bearing a forged "abdication edict"—switched from foot to foot, his official boots soaked in sweat. Hidden in his stockinged heel: a poison-laced Swiss army knife. Two smoke bombs dangled at his waist.
"This assignment is…thrilling," he muttered, voice quaking. "Should've become a civil servant like Mom said…"
Outside the palace gates, Lü Bu stood on ceremonial carpet. He'd styled his hair with pomade, doused in cologne, polished his breastplate until he could see his reflection, even waxed his halberd. Tonight, he would shine.
"Surrogate father, why the bulletproof vest?" he teased, eyes flicking toward Dong Zhuo's neck.
Dong Zhuo puffed his triple chin and turned in his new dragon robe. "Diet's going great—didn't want a chill." He spun, proudly showcasing the elastic waistband. "See? Custom extra-large."
In a blur of motion, Lü Bu lunged. His Fangtian halberd swooped for Dong Zhuo's throat. To everyone's shock, the portly tyrant tumbled—yet rolled like an Olympic gymnast. The blade shredded his robe, but only nicked the gold-plated soft armor beneath.
"By the Heavens! Son, are you insane?" Dong Zhuo shouted, flab vibrating. "Put down the booze, boy—told you minors can't drink wine!"
From a hidden alcove, Wang Yun sprang out, hefting the imperial jade seal like a warhammer. "Taste the 'Imperial Brick'!"
WHAM! The jade seal smashed into Dong Zhuo's face. A fountain of crimson erupted from his nose. Clutching his bleeding muzzle, the Emperor's regent bellowed, "Are you all teaming up on me? Get… bodyguards!"
Suddenly, the courtyard erupted into a live-action battle royale:
Lü Bu unleashed his special move, "Parricide Strike," each halberd swing shaking the palace stones. Wang Yun delivered follow-up blows with the seal, each hit echoing like temple gongs. Li Su quivered in a corner, phone livestreaming every epic moment to thousands of stunned viewers. Palace guards rushed in, axes and swords drawn, scrambling for "kill counts."
After a whirlwind of steel and jade, Lü Bu finally hoisted Dong Zhuo's severed head on his halberd and painted in dripping crimson on the palace wall:
"Lü Bu Kills the Murderer"
(with a cheeky Smiley face)
"All final rulings by Sītú Wang Yun."
The crowd stood silent—until one brave palace maid shouted, "Encore! Encore!" A new meme was born.
Act 3: Meiwu's "Zero-Cost Shopping Spree"
Word of Dong Zhuo's downfall spread like wildfire, reaching the subterranean vaults of Meiwu—where Li Jue was tallying Dong Zhuo's hoarded riches. This underground treasury outclassed Chang'an's state coffers, guarded by three famished tigers chained at the entrance.
"100,000 taels of gold…"
"Fifty chests of jewels…"
"Hundreds of calligraphy scrolls…"
"Figurines… Wait—he collected figurines?" Li Jue eyed a miniature Diao Chan statue. Its base read, "Eternal Goddess."
A panicked guard burst in. "General! Citizens are storming the gates!"
Leaping to the battlements, Li Jue blinked. The entire town had turned into a colossal "free-for-all clearance sale."
At the north gate, a horde of grandmas bolted for silks and brocades. "This for my granddaughter's dowry!" "That for my grandson's diapers!" At the south gate, scholars tossed Dong Zhuo's edicts into bonfires. "Finally! Burn your exam critiques!" "Your palace poetry—utter trash!" At the west gate, children splashed in the legendary "wine pool." "I found a bone!" "I got a golden bracelet!"
The pièce de résistance was the west garden's "meat forest." Draining the blood-red waters, the mob discovered dozens of skeletons of maidens sentenced to die there—each wrist adorned with tinkling golden bracelets, as if they whispered vengeance.
Amid the fray, banners popped up overhead like live chat:
"Dong Zhuo—RIP +1"
"Serves him right +10086"
"Let's ID-and-whip his corpse!"
Li Jue's elite guard tried to restore order—but were chased off by broom-wielding matrons screaming, "You stole our pensions!" "You evicted our homes!"
By midnight, Meiwu resembled a free-for-all festival. Li Jue, clutching an empty purse, cursed under his breath: "I planned a coup…not a clearance sale!"
Act 4: Jia Xu's "Poison-Master" Scheme
Under a sliver of new moon, Li Jue fled with ragged survivors to the foothills of Mount Qinling. Sword drawn, he kneeled, ready to end it all—when strategist Jia Xu swooped in, grabbing his wrist.
"General, wait!" Jia Xu's glasses glinted devilishly. "Tell me—why do you think the people hate Dong Zhuo so much?"
"Because he was evil?" Li Jue sniffed, eyes red.
"Wrong!" Jia Xu slapped his thigh. "Not evil enough."
From his sleeve, Jia Xu produced a mystical device—an alien contraption that looked like a primitive "tablet." He swiped open a slick "PowerPoint":
"How to Be a Legendary Villain"
Out-unite the heroes (Picture: Wolf pack) Out-cruel the villains (Picture: Venomous serpent) Out-promise the people (Picture: Gigantic pizza)
Pointing with a glowing laser stylus, Jia Xu traced a map of Chang'an. "Right now, Wang Yun is rounding up Dong Zhuo's cronies. If we spread word that the court plans to slaughter every Xiliang soldier…"
Li Jue's pupils dilated. He recalled the starving, frostbitten troops. Jia Xu hissed, "Once they believe death is certain, imagine their fury unleashed!"
At dawn, white flags fluttered over the Xiliang camp. Li Jue stood atop a makeshift dais, tears streaming as he recited a forged imperial decree in a shaking voice:
"The court has decreed: every Xiliang soldier must be executed—dog and child alike!"
The camp erupted:
"We fight to the death!"
"Better to die in battle than rot!"
"Loot everything—gold, grain, territory!"
"Revenge for Minister Dong!" (a planted shout)
Behind the scenes, Jia Xu melted into the shadows, pulling out three sealed orders:
To Ma Teng: "Hurry to split the spoils or you get none." To Han Sui: "Race to snatch the treasure—first come, first served." To Cao Cao: "Boss, the new script is set. Don't forget my bonus payment."
Thus, chaos bloomed across the land like a poisoned lotus.
Epilogue: Sundown over Chang'an
At dusk, Wang Yun stood atop the shattered walls of Weiyang Palace, gazing at three distant columns of smoke. He held the blood-spattered jade seal in his hand, marveling at its weight.
"Next time, I should hit the gym first…"
Below in the alleyways, a blind bard strummed a new rap:
"Wang Yun's cunning beats the red skirts,
No swords, no troops, just palace works,
Fighting Lu Bu cost sweat and tears,
Why not just a game of fancy schemers?
Yo, check it out~"
Children pogo-danced to the rhythm, oblivious to the true battle yet to come. A little girl with pigtails tugged at the bard's sleeve.
"Grandpa, will the sun rise tomorrow?"
He patted her head, staring at the blood-red horizon.
"It will…once this snow finally stops."
And so, the stage was set—for the next act in the great tragedy-comedy of Chang'an.