Chapter 75: Flag-Raising

Under the Great Ming Code, there was no good way to deal with that bastard Zhang Pu for the moment — after all, he hadn't broken any law, and no matter how awesome the Chongzhen Emperor was, no matter how much his word was law, it wouldn't work.

If he really forced the issue and confiscated this scoundrel's property and exterminated his clan, the likely result would be beacon fires blazing across Jiangnan, with the gentry and great merchants raising banners in revolt first.

If it really came to that — on one side the Jianzhou barbarians eyeing us hungrily beyond the passes, plus a not particularly reliable Ligdan Khan, and on the other side the Great Ming's own people rising up in rebellion — then the Great Ming would truly be eating dates and pills.

Fortunately, however, the Embroidered Uniform Guard had not been destroyed but had instead been strengthened.

So, after Chongzhen summoned Tian Ergeng and gave him a few instructions, he set the matter aside and turned his attention to the matter of the feudal princes coming to the capital to pay tribute.

Of course, for Chongzhen, setting it aside meant setting it aside, but Tian Ergeng could not set it aside the way Chongzhen did — not only did he have to handle it, he had to bring out the Embroidered Uniform Guard's true skills to handle it, and also let people know just how terrifying the Embroidered Uniform Guard truly was.

No wonder people say time is the fairest of all — it never halts its steps for any influence. In a blur, several days passed, and it was already the first day of the first month of the first year of the Great Ming's Chongzhen reign.

Today in Beijing, people headed toward the square outside the Gate of Heavenly Succession with hearts full of curiosity.

The Chongzhen Emperor was going to hold some sort of military review today in the square before the Gate of Heavenly Succession.

This was a rare thing indeed.

Moreover, word had it that today they would also welcome the ashes of those loyal martyrs who had died for the nation into the Shrine of the Loyal and Martyred to receive offerings.

Never mind the three hundred years of our dynasty — even if you added all the dynasties before, we've only heard that the Great Tang had something called the Pavilion of Mist and Cloud. Since when could these common soldiers also enjoy the blood sacrifices of the dynasty?

Curiosity tinged with a faint stirring of excitement drove the commoners of the capital to head for the Gate of Heavenly Succession at first light.

In truth, the commoners themselves found it strange.

Curiosity was normal — but where did this excitement come from? What did this have to do with them?

They couldn't say, and they couldn't explain it. Yet in their hearts they simply felt excited — that indescribable, inexplicable feeling grew ever stronger the closer they drew to the Gate of Heavenly Succession.

The common people of the Great Ming, or rather those common soldiers, had no idea what this was about, but Chongzhen knew — this was the earliest embryonic stage of national consciousness awakening.

Take the later Germany, for instance — a place no bigger than a fart twice took on all of Europe single-handedly.

Although they got slapped back in the end because their national strength couldn't keep up, in the early stages, relying on a national consciousness twisted into a single rope, they utterly thrashed Europa.

If the Great Ming's national consciousness could successfully awaken at this moment, like that harmless rabbit of later ages, never mind the Jianzhou barbarians — thrashing the entire world would be effortless.

Of course, the awakening of national consciousness has never been that simple.

It requires not only day-after-day brainwashing and indoctrination, but also one victory after another by one's own nation's army to lay the foundation, and even more so, it requires broadly opening the people's minds to unlock the gate to national consciousness.

But all this talk was still far too early. The Great Ming Daily that Chen Mo had been ordered to produce could in reality only be a bi-monthly, just two issues a month — for now, the effect was minimal.

As for broadly opening the people's minds, that was even more like flowers in a mirror or the moon reflected in water. The literate men of the present day were all sons of Confucianism; ordinary commoners still couldn't recognize three characters the size of a bushel basket.

Reading and literacy remained in the hands of a small minority.

In short, before the Great Ming Imperial Academy truly rose up, talking about anything else was like pulling eggs. All Chongzhen could do was balance, balance, and balance again — first stabilize the current situation, then cut the flesh with a dull knife, bit by bit. That was the proper course.

Atop the Gate of Heavenly Succession, Chongzhen, clad in full imperial ceremonial robes, was still nursing a headache.

From the Emperor's perspective, a character like Zhang Pu was utter trash, not worth Chongzhen's headache.

What gave Chongzhen a headache was having no electricity, no loudspeaker. At this moment, the Chongzhen Emperor was thinking: which grandson invented electricity again? Edison or Volta? And who came up with the electric loudspeaker?

Imagining the scene of the big rabbit of the later Flowery Nation standing atop the Gate of Heavenly Succession shouting at the top of his lungs without a loudspeaker, Chongzhen hurriedly shook his head, not daring to continue the thought — that scene was too beautiful; he dared not imagine it.

By the time the hour of You arrived, the weather gradually warmed. The Chongzhen Emperor and the assembled ministers, who had been drinking the cold wind atop the Gate of Heavenly Succession since the hour of Shen, finally felt a trace of warmth on their bodies.

Seeing that the time was about right, Wen Tiren, whom Chongzhen had personally designated as the master of ceremonies for both the military review and the inauguration of the Shrine of the Loyal and Martyred, stepped forward ahead of the crowd.

After requesting permission from Chongzhen, he declared: "The flag-raising ceremony — now begins!"

As his words fell, the many pre-arranged Han Generals both atop and below the Gate of Heavenly Succession began to bellow in unison, shouting out Wen Tiren's words.

The crowd, hearing "flag-raising ceremony," was stunned. Flag-raising? What did that mean?

Atop the Gate of Heavenly Succession, the baffled, bumpkin-like expressions on the faces of the grandees of the Nanjing Six Ministries gave Wen Tiren a secret thrill of satisfaction — even though he himself had only learned the term "flag-raising ceremony" not long ago.

And at that moment in the square before the Gate of Heavenly Succession, the throngs of commoners were also craning their necks, eager to see just what sort of novelty this so-called flag-raising ceremony could produce.

Three thunderous signal cannons boomed, and the hundred officials atop the Gate of Heavenly Succession and the commoners before it all fell silent.

Empress Zhou, dressed in full phoenix regalia, suddenly felt a bit nervous. This Great Ming national flag had been embroidered stitch by stitch by her, together with Noble Consort Tian and Noble Consort Yuan of the rear palace, following Chongzhen's instructions.

One could say that this national flag contained not only Chongzhen's painstaking effort but also theirs. Growing more and more nervous, Empress Zhou only calmed down when Chongzhen turned his head and gave her a reassuring look.

At this moment, the great gates of the Gate of Heavenly Succession were slowly pulled open, and a company of Han Generals of the Embroidered Uniform Guard marched out in formation.

The man at the very front was none other than the Regional Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard responsible for the imperial regalia, Hen Liangqing.

Behind him followed a company of over one hundred and twenty Embroidered Uniform Guard officers, all wearing flying-fish robes. What they held in their hands, however, were not Embroidered Spring Blades, but firelocks, one after another.

Above the muzzle of each firelock was fitted a bizarre-looking triangular bayonet.

After crossing the white jade balustrades of the Golden Water Bridge, these Embroidered Uniform Guard officers split into two columns. Every ten paces, one would halt, cradle his firelock to his chest, and stare straight ahead, motionless as a statue.

After the Embroidered Uniform Guard led by Wei Liangqing reached the northwest corner of the memorial archway of the Shrine of the Loyal and Martyred before the Gate of Heavenly Succession, the very last man was Wei Liangqing himself, and the spot where he stopped was precisely the location of the flag-raising platform.

Once Wei Liangqing had also halted, another company of Han Generals of the Embroidered Uniform Guard began marching out from the Gate of Heavenly Succession.

At the head were three men. The one in the center held the folded national flag in both hands; from the outside, one could not make out much, only vaguely discern that it was red.

Further behind was a hundred-man honor guard detachment, equipped and dressed exactly like Wei Liangqing's unit before them — all in flying-fish robes with firelocks.

The hundred-odd Embroidered Uniform Guards all stared straight ahead, their gazes firm and resolute, as if nothing around them existed at all. Every man's stride was identical, as if measured out with a ruler.

This was because the Chongzhen Emperor, nostalgic for the flag guard of later ages, had copied the pattern and ordered men to be trained in the same fashion.

Before the flag-raising platform, the other Embroidered Uniform Guards all halted their steps; only the three men at the very front continued walking toward the flag platform.

Requesting the Great Ming national flag, national anthem, and national emblem.

(End of chapter)