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The Black Lotus of the Great Ming

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Chapter 1 of 91

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Volume 1: The sea rises and falls

The Black Lotus of the Great Ming

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For this emperor, the sea meant only trouble: pirates, smugglers, and foreign raiders.

From the Forbidden City, surrounded by mountains, he could not see the vast ocean or the great wealth it carried. The ancestors had said the sea was like a wild beast, so the old rules were followed: all private sailing was banned, and only official ships were allowed to go to sea. It seemed like a perfect solution.

But things did not go as planned.Full novel: The Black Lotus of the Great Ming — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠

Over generations, people improved their ships and raised their sails with the wind. They discovered that beyond the endless ocean were only foreigners carrying silver, eager to buy goods from the Heavenly Kingdom. Fear of the sea slowly disappeared. Old myths like Jingwei Filling the Sea, Nezha Conquering the Sea, and The Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea were turned into noisy stage plays. The age of gods was fading. Now people believed that humans could defeat nature.

People wanted business.

They wanted silver.

They wanted to get rich.

Their wishes were simple.

Among the many coastal cities, the Jiajing Emperor felt especially conflicted about Ningbo.

This place was once called Mingzhou, but to avoid using the dynasty’s name, the Hongwu Emperor personally renamed it “Ningbo,” meaning “the sea is calm and the waves are peaceful.”

For a hundred years, the area suffered no major natural disasters, saving the state much silver. But the Jiajing Emperor thought the name was too generous—because when the sea was calm, people who lived by the sea became restless, and many greedy and lawless people appeared.

One place, Ruyi Harbor, kept appearing in official reports and became the emperor’s greatest worry in the twentieth year of his reign.

Ruyi Harbor sat at a key coastal location and was built in the fifth year of Yongle. Long ago, when the eunuch Zheng He returned from his first voyage, the court, though strict about sea bans, allowed trade with Japan to show imperial power. Zheng He supervised the harbor’s construction. From above, the bay looked like a jade belt around the water, with tides rising and falling like flowing clouds, and sandbars twisting like the pattern of a ruyi scepter.

Zheng He sighed, “Ancient books say the sacred ruyi can calm storms. This harbor has a lucky shape, and its tides move like a ruyi. It will protect passing ships.”

So he ordered a stone tablet carved with the words: “Ruyi, Gateway of Trade.”

A Maritime Trade Office was set up in the harbor, handling trade with Japan. Foreign ships had to show official permits before docking. Merchants hung ruyi flags on their ships, the sea stayed calm, markets grew busy, and people began calling it Ruyi Harbor.

But in the early Jiajing years, after the conflict over tribute with Japan, the court stopped issuing trade permits. The trade office became useless, with only sea-defense maps hanging on the walls.

Still, Ming goods were valuable, and silver was tempting. So Portuguese traders secretly arrived and worked with local merchants to trade illegally at sea.

Among the eastern Zhejiang sea merchants was a man named Chen Sanfu. He had once been a scholar who failed the exams again and again. Unable to bear heavy taxes, he led his neighbors to the sea to survive. Knowing Ruyi Harbor’s strategic value, he made it his base and gathered many desperate people: farmers ruined by land taxes, fishermen banned from fishing, salt workers fleeing harsh labor, failed scholars, and even fallen clerks.

This mixed crowd slowly turned the abandoned harbor into a busy port.

They repaired docks for dozens of large ships, built market streets selling silk, porcelain, spices, and medicine, and even had Portuguese shops selling Western goods. In the center stood a five-story watchtower. There was also a busy Dragon King Temple, and on the first and fifteenth of every month, Chen personally led prayers for safe voyages.

Though they went to sea to survive, the court labeled them all as pirates. Chen did not wish to oppose the government. Instead, he helped fight real pirates and protect the coast.

For several years, he sent envoys asking the court to lift the sea ban and allow legal trade. He even wrote a long memorial saying Japan needed Chinese silk, and opening trade would end piracy. For a time, people in Ningbo believed the court might allow Ruyi Harbor to trade legally.

But in the autumn of the twenty-eighth year of Jiajing, everything changed.

During a patrol, government ships were attacked by Chen’s fleet, and the soldiers were killed and thrown into the sea. The court was furious, and all talks ended. The Zhejiang governor led troops to attack Ruyi Harbor. After three days of battle, the harbor burned. Chen was defeated and beheaded. Most of his followers died. Only a few escaped by small boats into the open sea. Chen’s only daughter, Hai Ying, sixteen years old, disappeared. Rumors said she fled south with the survivors, but no proof was ever found.

After the battle, broken sails floated on the seAlike white funeral banners, mourning the lost prosperity. This event was later called “The Crying Sails Incident.”

Only the stone tablet remained, half buried in sand. Fishing songs vanished, merchants were gone, and the emperor’s great worry was finally removed. The destruction of Ruyi Harbor became the victor’s prize.

High walls and fortifications stood where thousands of ships once raced, though pavilions and blue waves still remained.

The next year, powerful Ningbo families saw opportunity. Under the name of “securing the sea,” they turned coastal control into a tool for fame and profit, praising the court while showing their wealth, and asked to reopen the harbor as a pleasure site.

The Qian family of Yin County led the first Tide Banquet, inviting top officials and clan elders to feast in the watchtower. They served East Sea fish on imperial porcelain, with Shaoxing wine and music lasting all night.

Chen Sanfu’s old tide records were turned into a banquet schedule. From March to August, seven banquets were held each year:

April 20 — Pearl Tide Banquet

May 15 — Closed Harbor Banquet

June 24 — Thousand Sails Banquet

July 7 — Night Tide Banquet

August 18 — Tidal Surf Banquet

September 9 — Ocean View Banquet

Noble families fought hard to get one of the seven invitations each year.

Ningbo was rich and full of famous families, retired officials, and talented lineages. Hosting a banquet at Ruyi Harbor proved a family had reached the top ranks of society.

Even receiving an invitation was a great honor. Families asked in marriage talks, “Have you ever received a Ruyi invitation?” Some displayed their golden red invitations in ancestral halls for three days to show off their status.

The harbor had become a place of luxury, alliances, and matchmaking.

Who still remembered that it was once the last hope for countless desperate people?

Full novel: The Black Lotus of the Great Ming — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠
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