Chapter 65: Holding the Long Tassel in Hand, Ready to Bind the Azure Dragon

"From now on, the imperial mausoleum may be repaired, but no further expansion is permitted. The current scale is quite good as it is."

Zhu Yuanzhang's words exceeded the expectations of many.

However, not a single official among the assembled civil and military ranks voiced any opposition.

For one thing, the series of actions taken by the Emperor during this journey to Zhongdu had been truly startling.

For another, the imperial mausoleum buried the Emperor's parents, not theirs.

Since the Emperor himself had stated there would be no more expansion, then expansion would cease, which conveniently granted them peace of mind.

It spared them from having unnecessary troubles thrust upon their own heads.

Did they not witness what the Emperor had done to the Duke of Han, Li Shanchang, who had overseen the construction of Zhongdu City?

If any one of them were chosen to oversee the renovation of the imperial mausoleum, would that not be the death of them?

"His Majesty keeps the common people close to his heart. To avoid taxing the people and wasting wealth, he halts even the expansion of the imperial mausoleum. He is truly a wise and benevolent sovereign!"

Zhan Tong, the Minister of Personnel, was the first to step forward, bowing to Zhu Yuanzhang with an expression of utmost sincerity.

A scene like this left many dumbfounded, unable to stop themselves from casting sidelong glances at Zhan Tong.

Was this... truly the Zhan Tong they had always known?

After recovering from their initial shock, some could not help but feel a secret contempt. Zhan Tong, having been through the recent ordeal, had clearly had his backbone broken by the Emperor.

He had become the Emperor's dog!

Even Zhan Hui, standing somewhat toward the back, appeared astonished. Feeling the gazes cast upon him by those nearby, he felt as though he could hardly hold his head up.

Even though he firmly remembered the words his father had spoken to him,

he certainly never expected his father to act with such thoroughness.

It had only been a few days since those words were spoken to him, and now his father was already putting them into practice...

Zhu Yuanzhang cast a somewhat surprised glance at Zhan Tong, and then looked at the officials who, following Zhan Tong's lead, vied with one another to praise his benevolence and consideration for the common people, smiling inwardly.

This was precisely the reason why he had taken such a hardline stance on the matters of Zhongdu City and Niu Liang.

"If the King of Chu loves slender waists, the women of the inner palace will starve themselves to death."

As the Emperor, so long as he displayed a strong inclination toward certain matters, countless people would be willing to exert themselves in that very direction.

Even if they disagreed in their hearts, they would outwardly demonstrate overwhelming support, and carry out actions in alignment with it.

That was sufficient; a good beginning had already been made.

From now on, as long as he remained true to this original aspiration, kept the common people in mind in all his actions, and intensified his efforts, more and more people would act this way. Eventually, there would be those who truly took it to heart.

When he succeeded in making "the people as the foundation" the supreme iron law of Great Ming, the highest standard of righteousness, then this endeavor would be initially accomplished.

Zhu Yuanzhang was naturally not naive enough to believe that reaching this stage would eliminate all corrupt officials or ensure that everyone put the people first.

In the shadows, plenty of darkness would still breed, devouring the common people.

Yet the shadows would remain the shadows; they would not dare to be brought out into the open.

An unwritten rule was an unwritten rule precisely because it withered upon seeing the light of day.

If he could achieve this much, the common people would have it vastly better than they had in the past.

Zhu Yuanzhang knew that reaching this step was exceptionally, extraordinarily difficult.

Even in the past, he would never have believed this was something a human being could accomplish.

Yet now, his conviction was unshakeable, because he had seen with his own eyes that someone had truly achieved it!

It had given him direction, and it had given him confidence.

Today, he was the founding emperor of Great Ming. With the crimson rope already in his grasp, he would surely bind the azure dragon in the days to come!

***

"I feel that the epitaph for the imperial mausoleum was poorly written, consisting entirely of the embellishing words of Confucian scholars. I shall compose the epitaph myself, have artisans carve it onto the stele, and remove the original stele to erect a new one."

Zhu Yuanzhang stated his second decision.

When these words were spoken, those with a military background thought nothing of it, but those with a scholarly, civil background looked at one another in dismay.

Who did not know that the current epitaph of the imperial mausoleum had been personally composed by Master Song Lian?

This was Song Lian!

He was the universally acknowledged grand Confucian scholar of his era, exceptionally skilled in prose. When it came to writing essays, even people like Liu Bowen and Gao Qi considered themselves inferior.

The epitaph written for the imperial mausoleum was a masterpiece, the painstaking creation of Song Lian's art.

They had all studied it with reverence, and many could even recite the entire piece from memory.

The more one savored it, the more profound its flavor became, leaving one awestruck.

Yet now, the Emperor actually dismissed Song Lian's epitaph as inadequate.

He intended to compose the epitaph himself and replace Song Lian's work.

This... left many at a loss for words.

For a moment, they wondered if the Emperor had lost his mind to utter such words!

How could someone who had tended cattle, served as a monk, begged for alms, and later become a soldier ever say such things?

How dared he question a grandmaster of the literary world?

Fortunately, Master Jinglian had not accompanied the Emperor to Zhongdu this time; otherwise, upon hearing what the Emperor had said, would he not have been angered into a fit?

Even if he was not present, when the news eventually traveled back to Yingtian, Master Jinglian's heart would surely be unsettled, and there was no telling what sort of trouble might ensue...

However, such thoughts remained private; no one stepped forward to voice opposition against Zhu Yuanzhang.

If the Emperor was overestimating his abilities and wished to compete in literary composition against a grandmaster of the letters, then let him compete.

They dared not advise him against it, nor was there any need to; they would simply wait to behold the Emperor's literary style and watch the joke unfold from the shadows...

***

Inside the Golden Hall, Zhu Yuanzhang sat before his desk as a flood of memories surged into his mind.

In his previous life, he had despised the Confucian scholars for their excessive use of the "Spring and Autumn style" of writing, which overly embellished his experiences.

Though he had clearly come from a destitute background, they insisted on fabricating auspicious portents of heaven descending to herald his birth.

They had also beautified his past to make it seem as though his life had been filled with glory, as if he were naturally destined to be emperor and everything had come easily to him.

Therefore, after having Wu Liang expand and renovate the imperial mausoleum in the eleventh year of Hongwu, he had personally written the epitaph to replace the original one composed by Song Lian.

In modern times, that stele still stood before the imperial mausoleum, serving as a major and accurate historical source for later generations to understand him.

Because this epitaph had been authored by his own hand, it came to be known by later generations as the *Imperial Epitaph of the Imperial Mausoleum*.

As the contents of the epitaph flowed through his mind, Zhu Yuanzhang picked up his brush, stroke by deliberate stroke of regular script falling upon the paper—

*This filial son and emperor, Yuanzhang, respectfully relates: In the spring, the first month of the eighth year of Hongwu, I led my sons to pay homage at the imperial mausoleum, where I beheld the aged trees and white heads, and suddenly recalled the hardships of days gone by.*

*Moreover, the records on the mausoleum steles are all embellished texts by Confucian scholars, which I fear are insufficient to serve as a warning to descendants of later generations; thus I specially recount the hardships and clarify the rise of our fortune, so that generations to come may witness it.*

*The text reads:*

*In former times, my late father resided in these parts. Farming was arduous, and morning and evening we wandered in anxiety. Suddenly, a plague of heaven struck, and our family suffered calamity:*

*My late father passed away at sixty-four, and my late mother died at fifty-nine. My eldest brother passed away first, leaving the whole family in mourning.*

*The landlord showed no regard for our plight, shouting arrogantly, refusing to grant us even a plot of land, leaving our neighbors full of sorrow.*

*Suddenly, my second eldest brother displayed great generosity, granting this plot of yellow earth. We had no coffin for the burial, and our bodies were covered in ragged garments. We hurriedly buried them three feet deep, with no wine or sacrificial broth to offer.*

*After the burial, our household was struck with terror. My second brother was young and frail, and our livelihood could not be sustained. My eldest sister-in-law took the children and returned east to her native village.*

*Heaven withheld its rain, and migrating locusts filled the sky. The villagers lacked food, and roots and leaves became our sustenance.*

*What did I have left? My heart was shaken as if deranged. I consulted with my brother: how could we endure this state of permanence?*

*My brother said we must leave this place and each weather the famine alone.*

*My brother wept for me, and I grieved for my brother. Under the bright sky, our hearts broke with weeping; brothers parting on different paths, our sorrow reached the distant heavens.*

*Elder Wang, our mother, plotted on my behalf, sending her son to see me off, providing wine and sweet incense. I entered the monastic gates to worship Buddha, passing in and out of the monks' quarters...*

Stroke by straight stroke of regular script fell respectfully, one after another, onto the paper, and the past resurfaced with every word.

Thinking of his family and the bitter sufferings of the old days, Zhu Yuanzhang's emotions churned, and he could not help but redden his eyes...

Several times during the process, Zhu Yuanzhang laid down his brush, using his sleeve to wipe away his tears.

Only at last did he complete the work.

Zhu Biao, Zhu Shuang, and Zhu Di came forward to read it, and soon they too were shedding tears.

They had long since heard their father recount the hardships of his past, but seeing their father write these things down with his own hand made them ache for him all the more.

It made them realize all the more the arduous difficulty of their father's founding of the dynasty...

Zhu Yuanzhang knew that his hope of using these words to make future generations remember the difficulty of life and the arduous founding of the state by their dynastic ancestor—thereby inspiring them to govern diligently and strive for greatness—had failed.

There were simply too many bizarre and eccentric descendants who became emperors in later generations!

Those who played with crickets, those who were deluded by Confucian scholars into acting like fools and filial sons to them, those who sought immortals and Daoist elixirs, those who died from taking aphrodisiacs, those who neglected court for decades and completely abandoned their duties...

By now, he no longer harbored hopes that this epitaph would serve any educational purpose for future generations.

If it merely survived into later times to let people know a version of himself that had not been mythologized, that in itself would be quite good.

With this thought, seeing the reactions of Crown Prince Zhu Biao and the others, a smile actually appeared on Zhu Yuanzhang's face.

Putting aside matters too far into the future, the immediate effect was quite satisfactory...

The epitaph was handed over to a group of master craftsmen with instructions to produce it with all haste.

Two days later, a ceremony was held to erect it on the western side of the southern end of the sacred way of the imperial mausoleum, with a blank stele placed some dozen paces to its east.

Many of the civil officials who had previously mocked Zhu Yuanzhang for overestimating himself and waited to see him make a fool of himself

retracted those sentiments upon seeing the epitaph.

When it came to literary style, rhetorical allusions, and various other aspects, the Emperor's epitaph indeed fell short of Song Lian's, but it won outright through its sheer, unvarnished truth and genuine emotion.

The only thing that caused lingering anxiety was that the Emperor had written so plainly of his humble origins and impoverished past, which might henceforth invite the contempt of the world...

***

Two days later, the majestic fleet departed Linhuai, sailing toward Yingtian.

The Honghong-Wudi Emperor had thus concluded his journey to Zhongdu.

Sitting alone inside the cabin, Zhu Yuanzhang wore an expression of deep worry.

It was not because he felt that the matters in Zhongdu City had been handled poorly or had left behind any regrets.

Rather, he was wondering how he should face his wife upon returning to the palace.

Previously, in order to persuade his wife and win her consent to let his second, third, and fourth sons go to Zhongdu City as undercover agents,

he had promised her that he would never let those scoundrels come to any harm.

As a result, even now, the chapped skin and scars on those rascals' hands and faces had not completely faded away.

This filled Old Zhu with a degree of trepidation.

After pondering for a while, Zhu Yuanzhang's worried frown vanished,

replaced by confidence.

He did not need to frighten himself; his wife was a woman of great vision and righteousness, and she would certainly not tear into him over this.

Besides, hadn't all these scoundrels returned in one piece?

His wife surely wouldn't blame him!