While Song Lian and the others returned to their rooms and took up their brushes to begin the battle of words, Chen Biao was still on the road to Yangzhou.
His little bottom simply couldn’t take the constant jolting of the carriage. Even with thick cushions spread across the seat, it was unbearably hot.
Using his clever little head, Chen Biao took out a hammock and tied it to the four corners inside the carriage. Then he climbed into it and lay face-down for a nap.
The carriage swayed gently. The hammock swayed gently. Chen Biao swayed along with it, as if he were sleeping in a cradle. It couldn’t have been more comfortable.
Riding alongside on horseback, Chen Wenzheng leaned through the carriage window and looked at him with envy.
“I want to sleep in a hammock too.”
Chen Biao beckoned to him.
“The carriage is huge. We can take turns.”
Chen Wenzheng shook his head.
“Forget it. Maybe on the way back. I have to stay outside on watch and protect you.”
Putting on the air of a little old man, Chen Biao declared, “Just for saying that, you’ll get your barbecue sauce later.”
Chen Wenzheng laughed.
“So I should thank you?”
Chen Biao waved dismissively.
“No need.”
Without warning, Chen Wenzheng shot a hand through the window, gave Chen Biao’s chubby cheek a hard pinch, then laughed loudly as he spurred his horse away.
Chen Biao exploded in anger.
“Your barbecue sauce is canceled!”
“Hahahahaha!”
Li Zhen said to his son, “Bao’er, guard your barbecue sauce later. Wenzheng will definitely try to steal it.”
Li Bao’er nodded nervously.
While Chen Biao’s caravan stopped beneath the shade of roadside trees to rest and prepare for a barbecue, Zhu Yuanzhang was also preparing to cook meat.
The only difference was that the meat Zhu Yuanzhang intended to cook was human flesh.
After encamping outside Yangzhou, Zhu Yuanzhang had ordered the craftsmen in his army to carve a memorial stele recording what had happened in the city.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a single gifted writer in the army. After searching throughout the camp, Zhu Yuanzhang found that no one dared to take up the brush.
Left with no other choice, Zhu Yuanzhang—who had only spent a few years studying alongside his son—gritted his teeth and wrote the inscription himself.
At this point in his life, he barely understood parallel prose. Since literary talent was lacking, he made up for it with emotion. First he described the tragedy of Yangzhou in plain, straightforward language, then poured out his own fury.
At the end, he wanted to add a few poetic lines as the finishing touch, but after much thought, he couldn’t come up with anything suitable.
Originally, he wanted to write, “The common people are easily abused, but Heaven cannot be deceived.”
But remembering the Mandate of Heaven he supposedly carried, the phrase made him uncomfortable.
The common people are easily abused? Aren’t I one of the common people too?
Even if Heaven granted someone its mandate, it had never once dropped a bolt of lightning to strike villains dead. In the end, it was still ordinary people like them who had to save themselves.
Besides, his son had told him the origin of that saying. It had actually come from Meng Chang, the last ruler of Former Shu—a decadent emperor who indulged in luxury, favored sycophants, and alienated worthy officials.
What pretty words from such a man.
Oh, and his son had also told him that the man he had once admired, Li Shen—the famous Tang poet known for his “Pity the Farmers” poems—had actually been a corrupt and brutal official. When peasants fled from his rule, Li Shen had compared them to the empty husks blown from ripened wheat by the wind.
Every last one of them could talk better than they acted.
The more Zhu Yuanzhang thought about it, the more stifled he felt. Finally, he waved his brush and wrote:
“They all say the common people are easily abused. I shall instead uphold justice for the people and teach you that the common people are not so easily bullied!”
Old Zhu’s inscription was as lacking in literary elegance as ever. It was plain, direct, supported entirely by raw emotion and forceful conviction. Had orthodox scholars seen it, they probably would have laughed in ridicule.
But the men under Zhu Yuanzhang were no orthodox scholars.
They stared blankly at the erected stone monument. Their eyes reddened, their cheeks flushed, and an indescribable emotion settled deep inside them.
Was it grievance? Anger? Joy at finally being understood?
They couldn’t tell.
After asking others about the meaning of the large characters on the monument, whether they could read or not, they simply fixed their eyes upon those words and refused to look away.
The surrendered Qing troops, stripped of their weapons, were herded before the monument.
When they saw the enormous pit behind it, terror spread across their faces. They thought Zhu Yuanzhang intended to bury them all alive.
He had originally intended exactly that.
But remembering his son’s words, Zhu Yuanzhang forcibly suppressed the violent rage boiling inside him.
If he buried every captive now, others would simply say that he too committed atrocities without restraint—that he was no different from the Qing army.
The greater one’s anger, the more reason one needed.
He ordered his soldiers to escort the Qing troops to the places inside and outside the city where abandoned corpses had been found, collect the scattered bones, and place them into the great burial pit.
Every soldier in Zhu Yuanzhang’s army replaced the red cloth tied around his arm with white mourning cloth.
Zhu Yuanzhang and Xu Da personally lit incense and candles. Holding paper offerings in their hands, they scattered them around the edge of the burial pit.
“May the souls gather beneath the darkened heavens.
May spirits and gods assemble beneath the clouded sky.
Return, O souls.
Return, O souls!”
The only eighteen surviving households of Yangzhou came supporting one another until they reached the monument.
These survivors were not the wealthy families who had collaborated with Zhang Mingjian.
They were merely the elderly, the weak, the sick, the disabled—people afflicted with illness who had hidden their grain exceptionally well.
All the healthy people had died.
Instead, these frail and infirm survivors had clung stubbornly to life, outliving those who had once been strong.
At first they were filled with fear.
But when they looked up and saw the monument…
Saw the burning incense…
Saw the Red Turban soldiers with white mourning cloth tied around their arms…
Their fear suddenly vanished.
Though several days of aid from the Red Turbans had barely restored enough strength for them to stand and walk, at this moment they erupted with roars that perhaps even their healthy selves could never have produced.
Like beasts driven into a dead end.
“Return, O souls!
Return, O souls!”
“My family…
My friends…
My neighbors…
Return, O souls!”
“Zhang Mingjian has already been chopped into minced meat!
Come back and see!
Your revenge has come!”
Listening to the desperate cries of the old, the weak, and the sick, even the Red Turban soldiers guarding the ceremony found themselves joining the chant.
They came from different regions. Some couldn’t even speak the official language and instead used the local words for summoning spirits from their hometowns.
The countless voices blended into a strange yet soul-shaking rhythm.
It was as though shamans from some ancient tribe were beating drums and dancing mysterious ritual dances, every drumbeat and footstep striking directly against people’s hearts.
All distracting thoughts settled away.
Only grief and fury remained.
Though these victims had nothing to do with them…
Though the Red Turban soldiers had long grown accustomed to the horrors of this chaotic age…
They still found themselves empathizing with the bones lying inside that great pit.
Even more astonishing was what happened to the weather.
When the ceremony began, the sun had been shining.
But after the ritual started, the candles were lit, and the elegy was recited, smoke and dust truly began spiraling upward, gathering together into clouds.
If Chen Biao had been there, he could have given a perfectly scientific explanation.
So many people gathered together, burning paper offerings while shouting at the top of their lungs, disturbed the air currents and lifted dust into the sky. It created an effect much like artificial cloud formation or cloud seeding.
But the people of this era were “ignorant.”
They knew nothing of science.
They only knew that moments ago the sky had been clear.
Now it had darkened.
As they cried,
“May the souls gather beneath the darkened heavens.
May spirits and gods assemble beneath the clouded sky.
Return, O souls!
Return, O souls!”
Clouds arrived.
The heavens dimmed.
Surely…
Surely every resentful spirit lingering over Yangzhou had come.
The Qing soldiers had originally been indignant.
We’ve already surrendered. Why aren’t we being treated like surrendered troops? Maybe we should look for another chance to rebel.
But as the clouds thickened overhead, and even the surrounding air seemed cloaked in mist carrying the scent of burning incense and paper money, wave after wave of terror piled onto their hearts until they trembled uncontrollably.
Their faces turned deathly pale.
Breathing became difficult.
When they committed their crimes, they hadn’t been afraid in the slightest.
Resentful ghosts?
Wronged spirits?
If such things truly existed, the world would never have become what it was today.
Evil men were never afraid of gods or ghosts.
Yet now…
They were afraid.
The surrendered officers, bound and dragged before the monument, looked up at the inscription, at the Red Turban Army, at Zhu Yuanzhang and Xu Da.
They all knew perfectly well.
The thing they feared wasn’t the ghosts of the Yangzhou civilians they had slaughtered.
What they feared…
Was the Red Turban Army claiming justice for the people.
They struggled desperately to spit out the cloth stuffed into their mouths.
They wanted to beg for mercy.
To say they were useful.
To swear they would repent.
To promise lifelong service beneath Zhu Yuanzhang’s banner.
Death on the battlefield had never frightened them.
But if they died here…
They truly feared that the once-weak spirits they had wronged would, emboldened by the presence of the Red Turban Army, tear their souls apart after death.
They had never feared dying.
Yet somehow…
They had begun fearing what came after death.
It was at this moment that Chang Yuchun arrived with his troops.
Li Shanchang had originally assumed Song Lian and the others would leave.
Who would have thought that not only had they decided to stay, but they had also gained even greater respect for Zhu Yuanzhang and seemed determined to remain in Yingtian.
He immediately made a decision.
He sent the eldest, Ye Zheng, together with Song Lian, to Yangzhou to assist Zhu Yuanzhang.
The remaining scholars would stay in Yingtian, writing articles and preparing to wage a war of words against the scholars serving other factions.
Ye Zheng descended from a famous family.
Song Lian himself enjoyed considerable prestige.
With the two of them beside Zhu Yuanzhang, they would certainly help improve outsiders’ opinions of him.
Earlier, Chang Yuchun had been publicly beaten by Li Shanchang and was looking for a way to make amends.
So he brought Lan Yu and led a contingent of soldiers to escort the two distinguished scholars, Song Lian and Ye Zheng, to Yangzhou.
Although Chen Biao had departed first, Li Zhen had received Zhu Yuanzhang’s orders to deliberately delay the journey.
The carriage traveled only along the smoothest roads, stopping to rest for fifteen minutes after every hour of travel, all because they feared tiring the young Chen Biao.
Song Lian and Ye Zheng, however, were scholars who could gallop swiftly on horseback.
Although they left a full day later than Chen Biao, they still reached Yangzhou ahead of him, arriving just in time for the memorial ceremony.
After dismounting, Chang Yuchun and the others accepted white mourning cloth from the Red Turban soldiers stationed there and replaced the red cloth tied around their arms.
The soldiers continued chanting, “Return, O souls,” as though they knew no exhaustion.
Some had already shouted themselves hoarse but still refused to stop even for a sip of water.
The frail survivors of Yangzhou were too exhausted to shout anymore.
Their lips merely moved silently as they continued tossing paper offerings into the flames.
Lan Yu was more than a little frightened.
He tugged at Chang Yuchun’s sleeve and whispered,
“Brother-in-law… wh-what is all this?”
Chang Yuchun frowned.
“It’s a memorial for the people of Yangzhou. Didn’t you already know that?”
Lan Yu shrank back.
He knew it was a memorial.
He just hadn’t expected… this.
It was terrifying.
Originally, he had assumed the ceremony was nothing more than Marshal Zhu trying to win people’s hearts.
He had come simply to watch the spectacle.
Yingtian had become unbearably oppressive.
He was the younger brother of a general’s wife, yet he’d actually been beaten merely for trying to seize a woman.
Even worse, his usually obedient elder sister had cried her eyes out while scolding him, irritating Lan Yu to no end.
She was only a few years older than he was and had already married out of the Lan family.
What right did she have to lecture him?
If he didn’t still need to make a living under his brother-in-law…
Hmph.
“B-Brother-in-law… why is the sky getting darker?” Lan Yu whispered again, his voice trembling.
“There… there can’t really be ghosts, can there?”
Lan Yu stood half a head shorter than Chang Yuchun.
Chang Yuchun lowered his head, intending to comfort him.
But suddenly…
He found himself afraid to speak as well.
Afraid his own voice might tremble.
He raised his eyes toward the heavy clouds overhead, his expression distant.
Are there really ghosts?
If there are… where are the spirits of the family and neighbors who were murdered long ago?
Where are the spirits of the enemies—and innocent people—my own troops have slaughtered?
Or…
Even ghosts, like people, need someone to stand up for them before they can seek justice?
Zhu Yuanzhang worked hard to educate himself, and all the generals under his command gritted their teeth and tried to keep up.
Though none possessed Zhu Yuanzhang’s talent, they had at least learned to recognize the most common characters.
Looking at the monument, Chang Yuchun slowly read aloud the large characters visible even from a great distance.
“‘The common people are not easily bullied…'”
He murmured,
“That’s the Marshal’s handwriting.”
Lan Yu hated studying.
Still, Chang Yuchun had repeatedly warned him that an illiterate man might remain a minor officer forever and could never become a great general.
So he had reluctantly learned to recognize a few characters.
His eyesight was much better than Chang Yuchun’s.
Not only could he read the large inscription, he could even make out the memorial text carved beneath it.
After finishing it, he shrank his shoulders once more and instinctively edged closer into Chang Yuchun’s shadow.
He didn’t know why.
He simply felt uneasy.
He wanted to flee this solemn ceremony.
Song Lian and Ye Zheng were equally stunned into silence.
They had long expected Zhu Yuanzhang’s memorial ceremony to be crude and lacking in proper form.
Nearly every scholar under Zhu Yuanzhang had already left.
The few who remained had been assigned as officials throughout the cities Zhu Yuanzhang had conquered, where they worked tirelessly to comfort the people.
No one had been available to accompany him.
So there was almost certainly no one in Zhu Yuanzhang’s army who understood ritual etiquette or knew how to compose proper sacrificial texts.
They had hurried here intending to fill those gaps and make at least the latter half of the ceremony appear properly conducted.
But now…
The two exchanged glances.
Silently, each tightened the white mourning cloth around his arm.
“General Chang,” Ye Zheng said softly, “let us not disturb the Marshal. We’ll approach him after the ceremony is finished.”
Song Lian nodded.
“This is the most solemn moment. It must not be interrupted.”
Chang Yuchun hesitated before deciding to trust the great scholars.
He led his soldiers to remain among the ranks of the Red Turban Army without stepping forward.
Zhu Yuanzhang had already been informed that Chang Yuchun had arrived with Ye Zheng and Song Lian.
But instead of eagerly going out to greet them, he merely nodded gently to show he knew, then continued presiding over the ceremony.
The Red Turban soldiers had already gathered all the scattered bones.
The Qing troops merely carried them from the various sites where they had been found and placed them into the burial pit.
Half a day later, every bone had been laid to rest.
The Qing soldiers then took up wooden shovels and began filling the grave.
Song Lian and Ye Zheng both breathed sighs of relief.
They’re only filling the grave.
The Marshal hasn’t completely lost his reason in his rage.
But their relief lasted only an instant.
The next moment…
They could no longer remain calm.
Zhu Yuanzhang ordered two enormous cauldrons to be carried over and fires lit beneath them.
He intended to cook sacrificial meat for the people of Yangzhou on the spot.
As soon as the fires were blazing, the Red Turban soldiers carried over piles of marinated chunks of flesh—pieces so mutilated that only the heads were barely recognizable.
With loud splashes, they dumped them into the boiling cauldrons.
Zhu Yuanzhang was actually using Zhang Mingjian’s flesh as the sacrificial offering.
The Qing soldiers began shaking uncontrollably.
The bound surrendering officers trembled so violently that several wet themselves in terror.
Unable to restrain themselves any longer, Song Lian and Ye Zheng gathered up their robes and ran toward Zhu Yuanzhang, determined to stop him.
Because Zhu Yuanzhang had already instructed the soldiers beside him, no one blocked the two scholars.
They reached him without difficulty.
Lan Yu muttered,
“Didn’t they just say they weren’t going over there?”
Chang Yuchun shot him a glare.
“Shut up.”
Lan Yu shrank his neck and stared at the boiling cauldrons, his eyes wandering as unknown thoughts raced through his mind.
“Marshal!” Ye Zheng, who was more forthright than Song Lian, spoke immediately.
“You must not do this!”
Zhu Yuanzhang cupped his hands respectfully toward the two scholars.
Only after politely greeting them did he say,
“Gentlemen, no matter what happens today, I will not stop this memorial ceremony.”
He pointed toward the surviving people of Yangzhou, some of whom had already collapsed from exhaustion once before climbing back up to continue tending the fires.
“We ordinary folk at the bottom don’t understand lofty principles.”
“We only know one thing.”
“An eye for an eye.”
“A tooth for a tooth.”
“I want the Qing army to understand.”
“I want the whole world to understand.”
“And I want my generals and soldiers to understand.”
“If you kill people, be prepared to be killed.”
“If you eat people, be prepared to be eaten.”
“No one is born above anyone else.”
“When they rely on the swords in their hands to commit evil, they should understand that one day someone even more vicious may do the same to them.”
Song Lian frowned.
“Marshal… are you going to become that greatest villain?”
Zhu Yuanzhang replied,
“Why shouldn’t I?”
He looked up at the monument.
“I’ve studied for several years now.”
“When I read the histories, every dynasty was overthrown because ordinary people like us rose up first.”
“True, the fruits of victory were usually harvested by stronger men in the end.”
“But every single uprising dealt a real, fatal blow to those lofty people standing above us.”
He turned back toward the two scholars.
“Gentlemen, look at the words I wrote.”
“Who says the common people are easily bullied?”
“I think the common people are the hardest to bully—harder even than Heaven itself.”
“I don’t intend to enforce Heaven’s justice.”
“How capable is Heaven, really?”
“If Heaven truly wanted something done, it could simply send down a bolt of lightning. Who could stop it?”
“If the Mandate of Heaven exists, then Heaven merely grants that mandate to people.”
“As for whether those people can fulfill it…”
“Heaven doesn’t care.”
“What’s that saying again?”
“‘The workings of Heaven are constant; they do not endure because of Yao nor perish because of Jie.'”
“That was Xunzi, wasn’t it?”
“The difference between an age of prosperity and an age of chaos is simply whether the ruler entrusted with Heaven’s mandate and the people’s will can provide relief during disasters and restore order during calamities.”
“I don’t know whether I’ll ever become Emperor and restore clarity to the world.”
“But I do know this.”
“I can at least become the sharpest blade that carries out justice for the people.”
“I can become the greatest villain—the one all other villains fear most.”
Song Lian and Ye Zheng remained silent for a long time.
Looking at Zhu Yuanzhang, they seemed to witness the gradual birth of a tyrant.
Yes.
Zhu Yuanzhang truly possessed the bearing of an emperor.
But not the bearing of a wise ruler.
Nor that of a benevolent ruler.
Rather…
The bearing of a tyrant.
A tyrant who might leave his name throughout history.
One cursed by countless generations…
Yet revered by countless generations as well.
Should they remain beside this future tyrant?
Zhu Yuanzhang sighed inwardly.
He instructed Xu Da to take care of the two scholars before personally carrying a saber to the monument.
One by one, he cut off the heads of the surrendered officers.
Then he threw their bodies into the boiling cauldrons.
Song Lian and Ye Zheng smiled bitterly.
Should they perhaps console themselves by saying,
At least Zhu Yuanzhang didn’t boil them alive?
Next, Zhu Yuanzhang distributed the soup and meat as sacrificial offerings.
The thoroughly cooked heads were displayed separately, just as ox heads, sheep heads, or pig heads would normally be.
Throughout the entire ceremony…
Not a single animal was sacrificed.
Every offering was human flesh.
The eyes of the surviving people of Yangzhou shone with a savage, almost inhuman light.
Their expressions were filled with grim satisfaction.
Who needs livestock?
These are the finest livestock of all.
Our neighbors… our families…
They only need to eat the flesh of these beasts before setting out on their journey full and content.
“Return, O souls.
Return, O souls.
People of Yangzhou…
Only eighteen households remain.
Come back.
Return and enjoy your offerings.”
“Eat their flesh.”
“Drink their blood.”
“Chew their entrails.”
“Devour their souls.”
“And after your vengeance is complete…”
“Return peacefully to the underworld.”
“Return to the cycle of reincarnation.”
After coldly and mercilessly presiding over the distribution of the meat, Zhu Yuanzhang ordered the human bones to be fished out.
Right there on the spot, they smashed the bones into pieces, mixed them with clay, and poured the mixture into iron statues that had already been prepared.
Those kneeling iron statues were sculpted in the likenesses of Zhang Mingjian and his accomplices.
Bound in chains, they knelt in rows on either side of the monument, just like the iron statues of Qin Hui and the other traitors before Yue Fei’s tomb.
No one knew how long this monument, this cemetery, or these iron statues would survive.
No one knew whether future generations would ever see them.
But at least for now…
They knelt before the monument.
Enduring the curses of ten thousand people.
While distributing the sacrificial meat, Zhu Yuanzhang noticed Chang Yuchun among the crowd.
He summoned Chang Yuchun and Lan Yu over, ordering them to burn paper offerings and help fill the grave with him.
Already shaken to the core, the two became even more dispirited after being ordered to participate personally.
Pointing toward the monument, Zhu Yuanzhang said,
“We’re all common people.”
“So we should all understand that the common people are not easily bullied.”
“When you first joined me, Chang Yuchun, you said you no longer wanted to be a bandit.”
“You wanted to abandon robbery and make an honest future for yourself.”
“You’ve already fulfilled that promise.”
“But now that you’ve gained the future you wanted…”
“I hope you’ll start looking farther ahead.”
Chang Yuchun pressed his lips together.
“I’ll follow the Marshal’s orders in everything.”
Zhu Yuanzhang then turned to Lan Yu.
“I’ve heard your wife is a truly virtuous woman.”
“So why is her younger brother such an arrogant young wastrel?”
Lan Yu: “!!!”
The Marshal is scolding me?!
Chang Yuchun answered,
“Lan Yu is the only surviving son of the Lan family. My wife is merely a married daughter who’s only a few years older than he is. How could she possibly control him?”
“He’s only making a living under my command, so I can barely keep him in line.”
Lan Yu: “???”
Brother-in-law is throwing me under the cart?!
Zhu Yuanzhang sighed.
“When a family has an overbearing young master, it’s often the daughters who become especially virtuous.”
“After all, they’re the ones being bullied at home.”
“My wife was the same.”
“Back then, those young masters of the Guo family bullied both her and me more times than I can count.”
Chang Yuchun continued,
“The Lan family has only this single heir left.”
“I keep him under control, but I don’t dare discipline him too harshly.”
“If anything happened to him, my wife would have no face left before her parents.”
“Marshal, I heard Yingtian is opening an academy.”
“Could you let Lan Yu study there?”
“Military life doesn’t suit him.”
Lan Yu’s eyes slowly widened.
His face filled with utter disbelief.
Brother-in-law!
That’s not what you used to say!
You always said I was born for the army!
That I’d definitely become a great general one day!
Wasn’t I your favorite brother-in-law?!
Chang Yuchun glanced at Lan Yu expressionlessly.
He really had liked Lan Yu’s bravery before.
But after being publicly beaten by Li Shanchang because of Lan Yu…
He didn’t like him anymore.
Then his eldest daughter had complained that her mother had hidden away crying over Lan Yu’s behavior.
After that…
He liked him even less.
As a former bandit, Chang Yuchun’s moral standards—and his standards for whom he liked—were remarkably flexible.
Nothing mattered more than the future of his own little family.
Not even Lan Yu, the Lan family’s only remaining son.
If Lan Yu went to study instead, his wife—though kind-hearted and painfully submissive toward her birth family—would probably no longer feel guilty either.
Seeing how sensible Chang Yuchun was being, Zhu Yuanzhang nodded.
“Very well.”
“Since you’ve personally requested it, I’ll make the arrangements.”
Since Chang Yuchun knows how to read the situation so well, perhaps after observing him a little longer… I can tell him Biao’er’s true identity.
After all… the two families already have a marriage agreement.
Thinking of that engagement, Zhu Yuanzhang suddenly felt extremely guilty.
Forget Biao’er.
He hadn’t even dared tell his wife about it yet.