"Revolution is not a dinner invitation… The one who said that possesses great wisdom."
Zhu Yuanzhang shook his head slowly. His voice carried an unusual weight of feeling.
After all, there were still three months before the anniversary of Hu Weiyong's execution.
The Light Screen had not yet spoken of the Hongwu reign. Yet the Ming emperor knew very well that in later records, the thirteenth year of Hongwu would be written in blood.
Since the founding of the dynasty, he had restored the civil service examinations, compiled the Veritable Records, reorganized the guard system, rebuilt palaces, had the Crown Prince attend to governance, and sent the princes to their respective fiefs. Everything had been in disarray, waiting to be put in order.
A realm newly established was like a house half built. The beams were set, but the walls were not yet steady.
And then this year, the blade had risen.
Once the sword was drawn, the entire court trembled.
Yet Zhu Yuanzhang did not regret it.
Yes, he could have drawn Hu Weiyong close, divided his allies, waited patiently until the man retired under the guise of old age. Then he might have slowly reshaped the structure of power, as the Light Screen had described, with compromise and gradual adjustment.
But compromise did not suit his temperament.
When weeds choke the crops, one does not kneel beside them and speak gently of coexistence.
One cuts them down.
He preferred a swift blade, a thunderous stroke, a fire that burned clean. Only after the flames died down would he scatter seeds and bestow grace.
It was the way of slash and burn farming. Brutal, perhaps, but effective.
The emotion in his voice left Zhu Biao slightly perplexed.
"But Father," the Crown Prince said carefully, "is this not the simplest of truths?"
Zhu Yuanzhang snorted.
"In this world, what truth is ever complicated? The sages have long said that the Great Way is simple."
He fixed his eldest son with a stern look.
"But Biao, you must remember. Understanding and doing are two entirely different matters."
"I will remember," Zhu Biao replied at once.
"No." Zhu Yuanzhang cut him off with a sharp motion of his hand. "What I want is not that you remember. I want you to understand."
He rose from his seat as if sitting no longer satisfied him.
"You are the Crown Prince. More than anyone, you must understand this. Every stroke of your brush upon a memorial becomes, once carried out below, a mountain or a ravine."
His voice grew firmer.
"Take Jia Sidao. When careful action was required, he was careless. When resolute handling was required, he was hesitant."
"I know you are kind hearted, Biao. But kindness must never be misplaced. To show mercy to traitors is cruelty to the realm. The more lenient you are toward rebels, the harsher you become toward the innocent. The foundations of Great Ming will weaken."
This time, Zhu Biao did not answer immediately. He lowered his gaze and thought.
Zhu Yuanzhang watched him and nodded in satisfaction.
From the side, Zhu Di's eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Father, are you saying that once friend and foe are clearly distinguished, action must be decisive?"
Zhu Yuanzhang glanced at his fourth son. Zhu Di had always loved military matters. The language of battle came naturally to him.
He nodded.
"The more decisive, the more appropriate."
Zhu Di's grin widened.
Yet Zhu Biao spoke again, his tone more hesitant.
"But Father… if the one harming the innocent were…"
He did not finish the sentence.
He did not need to.
Zhu Yuanzhang understood at once.
He was speaking of the princes.
For a brief moment, something sharp flickered in the emperor's eyes. Then he waved his hand dismissively.
"How would I ever let you be placed in such a position? How could I allow such a thing to happen?"
He sounded almost irritated.
"You are their elder brother. If any of them errs, summon him to the capital and scold him thoroughly. Would they dare disobey?"
The princes exchanged glances.
Zhu Su frowned slightly, then smoothed his expression and returned to contemplating the strange notion of "science" that had appeared earlier in the Light Screen.
Zhu Bai was still too young to grasp the weight of the discussion. He merely smiled, amused by the exchange.
Zhu Zhen, somewhat older, also smiled, though whether from confidence or simple optimism was unclear.
Only Zhu Di's expression shifted into open indignation.
"I am to become a great general," he declared. "I will guard the northern frontier for Great Ming. How could I ever lead troops south and bring calamity upon our own realm?"
"If I were to do such a thing, I would not even need Elder Brother's reprimand. How would I face Father?"
Zhu Biao quickly stepped forward to calm him.
He had never suspected his brothers of rebellion. Their bond was strong. Even without their father's authority above them, he could not imagine drawing blades against them.
What troubled him was not rebellion.
It was something more subtle. Something less easily named.
…
In the prefectural office of Xuchang, Zhuge Liang laid down his brush and sighed softly.
"The fall of the Southern Song," he said, "is of immense value to our records."
As the Light Screen continued its explanations, the threads connecting great clans, powerful families, aristocratic lineages, scholar gentry, landlords, and great landlords became increasingly clear.
The names shifted across dynasties, but the underlying impulse remained constant.
Desire.
Endless desire for self preservation and expansion.
From earlier discussions of maritime trade, Zhuge Liang had already begun to suspect that the troubles of the Ming would one day involve powerful merchant magnates tied to overseas commerce.
Pang Tong smiled faintly. "If Zhao Kuangyin heard you say that, he might feel some small comfort."
He too was writing diligently.
The collapse of a dynasty was a rare and precious case study. Ordinarily, such lessons were reserved for later generations. Now, through the Light Screen, those who came before could glimpse the causes of decline and perhaps avoid them.
To Pang Tong, the interpretation offered by the Light Screen was itself novel.
For beneath it lay a question both simple and immense.
To whom does the realm truly belong?
Xun Yu and Xun You exchanged thoughtful glances. Cao Cao's eyes narrowed slightly.
Liu Bei, however, remained serene.
He had held to a conviction since his youth. Combined with what he had learned from the Light Screen, his understanding had only deepened.
The realm is public.
And what is meant by public?
The people.
Therefore, the realm belongs to the people.
Above them, the Light Screen continued.
[Lightscreen]
[In the year 1275, after capturing Xiangyang, the Yuan forces advanced eastward along the river.
With the enemy pressing down in overwhelming strength, panic spread throughout the Song. Fan Wenhu, whom Jia Sidao had relied upon as a pillar of military support, surrendered to the Yuan with remarkable swiftness. His defection was almost a declaration that the Southern Song's mandate had run out.
Jia Sidao himself panicked.
He sent envoys to negotiate, hoping to preserve a subordinate position, to acknowledge Yuan supremacy in name while retaining limited authority. He sought to avoid the fate of complete annihilation.
It was a plea not unlike that once made by Li Yu of Southern Tang when facing the Song.
History has a habit of repeating its patterns.
The Yuan, holding overwhelming military strength, had no reason to accept compromise.
The two sides met at Dingjiazhou.
The Southern Song's final field force, one hundred thirty thousand men, was annihilated.
From that moment, the dynasty's fate entered its final countdown.
Jia Sidao was dismissed from office following the defeat. Yet in truth, there was little to be said about the battle itself.
Those one hundred thirty thousand soldiers were largely a composite of rear line units and previously defeated remnants. Many among them had already lost to the Mongols once, even twice.
The Mongols came bearing the momentum of victory.
Under such conditions, even divine intervention would have struggled to reverse the outcome.
Stripped of power, Jia Sidao was demoted and exiled to Xunzhou.
The official assigned to escort him was named Zheng Huchen.
According to historical records, Zheng Huchen mocked and humiliated him throughout the journey, attempting to provoke him into suicide.
Jia Sidao did not comply.
Only upon reaching Fujian did Zheng Huchen lose patience. He dragged Jia Sidao into a latrine and beat him severely. Jia coughed blood and died, thus ending a complicated life in a most undignified manner.
The final chief minister of the Southern Song was undeniably a complex figure.
He cannot be reduced to the simple label of traitor.
He possessed ability, though not enough to save his state.
He wielded power for personal ends, yet remained fundamentally loyal to the Song.
He attempted reform, but his failure hastened the dynasty's collapse.
In the end, the man who tried to act became the most convenient bearer of blame for the fall of Southern Song.]