Chapter 233: Opening an Epoch-Making Game, Establishing Merit for Ten Thousand Generations (Seeking Monthly Tickets!)

As Zhu Youjian rose to his feet, the entire expanse of Huangji Gate plaza gradually fell silent.

The sun had climbed higher; the early winter warmth spilled across the crimson steps, illuminating that figure upon the throne. The golden dragon patterns on his imperial robes flowed slowly, gleaming with a dazzling, arresting light.

Thousands of eyes — regardless of rank, regardless of their varied thoughts — now converged upon a single point.

Even with Zhu Youjian's usual composure, a surge of emotion at this pivotal moment was unavoidable in his heart.

It was not nervousness, but excitement.

The way of the gentleman: to travel far, one must start from what is near; to ascend high, one must start from what is low.

All things, all affairs, must begin from the small, from the minute.

And now, a grand assembly — personally directed by him, aimed at reshaping the spiritual core of a dynasty — was about to commence.

This would be the ultimate source of legitimacy, the most fundamental principle underlying all his subsequent reforms and actions!

And whether these civil and military officials before him agreed or not, he would use the power of ritual to subdue and compel them!

So, what shared imagination does the Great Ming need now?

For the Han, it was: "Whoever offends the mighty Han, though distant, shall be pursued and slain!"

That was a pride carved into the bone, an absolute confidence forged in iron and blood. It was the young general Huo Qubing, faced with the Emperor's reward, answering with these resounding words: "The Xiongnu are not yet destroyed — what home shall I make?"

That was not the voice of one man; that was the roar of an era. It was countless sons of the Han, riding their horses across Hexi and the northern deserts, sealing Langjuxu Mountain, carving stone at Yanran, ultimately converging into that declaration in the histories that still makes one's blood boil:

Wherever the sun and moon shine, wherever the rivers flow — all is Han soil!

For the Tang, it was: "The nine-heaven gates of the palace open wide; envoys of ten thousand nations in caps and robes bow before the tasseled crown."

That was a grace and splendor born of a civilization at its zenith, a majestic bearing from standing at the summit of the world.

On Chang'an's Vermilion Bird Avenue, foreign merchants brushed shoulders with scholars; Roman gold coins and Arabian spices converged here. This was the prosperity and wealth the poet described: "Recalling the glorious Kaiyuan era in its prime, even a small town held ten thousand households."

The surrounding barbarian tributaries honored the Great Tang Son of Heaven as "Heavenly Khan" — not merely out of fear, but out of heartfelt admiration and willing allegiance. This confidence was the kingly breadth of mind: "The sea accepts a hundred rivers; greatness comes from embracing all."

Precisely because of this, there came to be the saying "Han people," and the saying "Tang people"!

As for the Song, it was not without its own imagination.

Such as: "To establish the heart for Heaven and Earth, to establish the destiny for the common people, to carry forward the lost teachings of past sages, and to bring peace to all ages."

Such as: "To worry before the world's worries, and to rejoice only after the world's joys."

Such as: "Since ancient times, who among men has not died? Leave a loyal heart to illuminate the annals of history."

Only, this dynasty that governed the realm jointly with the scholar-officials... in the end, its imagination still fell somewhat short compared to that of the Han and Tang.

Zhu Youjian's gaze swept across the faces of the assembled officials before the hall, one by one.

Chief Grand Secretary Huang Liji, Duke of Ying Zhang Weixian, the blue-robed Senior Compiler Zhang Maoxiu, Regional Commander Ma Shilong, and others stood in the front ranks.

He saw deference, doubt, and solemnity on their faces.

But he could not see the thoughts within their hearts.

He then looked further out, to the officials in blue robes and green robes, sweeping past the ranks of the Secretariat, the ranks of the Northern Metropolitan local officials entering the capital, and the ranks of the county magistrates summoned from across the empire for evaluation.

But at that distance, he could no longer clearly discern the expressions on their faces.

Finally, his gaze turned toward the vast, boundless sky.

So then, having spoken of the Han and Tang, what is the shared imagination of the Great Ming!?

This was the question Zhu Youjian had been pondering ever since he crossed over.

Regrettably, even to this day, even after interviewing 247 native-born men of the Great Ming, he still had not found the answer. Was it the heroic spirit of "The Son of Heaven guards the gate of the realm; the sovereign dies with his altars"?

Was it the tragic grandeur of "The number of loyal ministers who died for their principles in the late Ming is so vast, far surpassing anything the Han, Tang, or Song could match"?

No, those were elegiac couplets for the dynasty's end, footnotes that belong only to tragedy.

He, Zhu Youjian, was still alive and well right now; the death of the altars was still seventeen years away.

Even setting aside him, Zhu Youjian, those ministers who would die for their principles were also still alive and well.

To name one, Zhang Tongchang, who would die a martyr in the future, was just nineteen years old this year.

After being hauled into the capital from Huguang by the Brocade Guard's banner officers, he had inexplicably become the Duke of Xingye, with a stipend of two thousand shi of grain.

Right now, young Master Zhang, full of ambition, was still standing among the ranks of the nobility, grieving his ancestors, choking with tears, unable to calm himself for a long while.

No matter. If no answer could be found, then no answer could be found.

Zhu Youjian would provide his own answer.

Third-rate emperors play at statecraft; second-rate emperors create the currents of their age; but first-rate emperors... they shape the very spirit of a nation!

And all of this would begin with this very grand court assembly today!

Zhu Youjian steadied his breathing and slowly began to speak.

"My assembled ministers are all wondering: when We posthumously honored the Duke of Xingye and the Marquis of Pingbo, why did We bestow the designation 'Upholder of the State, Aider of the Dynasty, Promoter of Sincerity'?"

"We do not wish to answer this question directly. Instead, We shall first explain to you all three principles that lie within Our heart."

"'The Book of Changes says: Treading on frost, solid ice will come. All things have their omens, yet the rise and fall of dynasties often comes with a speed far beyond the world's imagining.' 'In the fourth year of Xiping of the Han, the great scholar Cai Bojie re-edited the Six Classics text, carved it on stone tablets, and erected them at the Imperial Academy, drawing scholars from across the land to copy them, until paper in Luoyang grew scarce.' 'In the sixth year of Xiping of the Han, Cai Bojie submitted a memorial on seven matters, criticizing current ills with earnest words. Emperor Ling largely accepted them.'"

"'At that time, though the state faced the chaos of the Xianbei and Xiliang externally, and the Disaster of the Partisan Prohibitions internally, the Yellow Turbans still lay dormant, the warlords had not yet risen, and the Great Han was still that Great Han whose might extended across the four seas.'"

"'Who could have imagined that a mere thirteen years later, the Han Emperor would be deposed, the Son of Heaven would shed his blood, and the flourishing city of Luoyang would be reduced to ashes?' 'At that moment, what feelings stirred in the heart of Cai Bojie, forced to follow the westward migration, as he recalled the scenes of thirteen years before?'"

Zhu Youjian paused, giving the assembled ministers some time to reflect, before continuing.

"'In the first year of Tianbao of the Tang, Li Taibai was summoned to the capital. The Precious Consort held his inkstone, Gao Lishi pulled off his boots, and Emperor Xuanzong personally stirred his soup to cool it. Du Zimei wrote in verse: "The Son of Heaven calls but he will not board the boat; he calls himself a wine immortal among the ministers." What splendid treasures of the age, what peerless elegance of the High Tang!'"

"'And yet, who could have imagined!'"

"'Again, thirteen years later, the An-Shi Rebellion erupted, and the Great Tang's golden age came to an abrupt halt!'"

"'The war drums of Yuyang shook the earth as they came, startling the Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Coat melody; at Mawei Slope, the Precious Consort perished, and the Son of Heaven was shrouded in dust on his western flight; within Tong Pass, famed generals broke their halberds, and millions of common folk were plunged into fire and water! The brilliant Great Tang, from that point, turned from splendor to decline, never to recover.'"

"'At that time, as Li Bai looked back upon the wealth and elegance of those thirteen years before, what thoughts would have come to him?'"

Zhu Youjian paused again, his sharp gaze sweeping across the entire assembly.

"We are seventeen years old this year. Among you, my ministers, the youngest are just past twenty, and the eldest are nearing seventy."

"Thirteen years from now, I will be thirty, in the very prime of life. And you, my ministers — some thirty, some fifty, some already retired and returned to your villages."

"So I wish to ask you all: thirteen years from today, what scene will our Great Ming present?"

"The civil and military officials standing here today — thirteen years hence, what circumstances will they find themselves in?"

"And if, thirteen years from now, we look back upon this day — what emotions will stir within us?!"

"This, then, is the first principle I wish to lay before you. Rise and fall, survival and ruin — they often turn in the space of a breath!"

A cold wind swept through, whipping at the hems of the officials' robes.

Across the plaza, utter silence reigned.

To begin from a specific point in time was truly novel; in an instant, it laid out with perfect clarity the truths of rise and fall, survival and ruin, and the impermanence of human affairs.

Many of the Hanlin Academy officials, at this moment, finally felt at peace about the strange task they had abruptly received over the past ten-odd days.

So it turned out that their labors from dawn to dusk, scouring the histories of Han and Tang for passages and phrases, were meant for this very occasion.

But now that the classical allusions were exhausted, what would he say next?

And why, they wondered, had His Majesty not made use of any Song-dynasty historical materials?

Zhu Youjian paused a moment, then continued.

"When, then, will be Great Ming's sixth year of Xiping? And when will be Great Ming's first year of Tianbao?"

"Was it during the Longqing and Wanli years? Was it during the Tianqi years? Or is it... this very day?"

"The green annals are a mirror that reflects rise and fall — yet when one stands within the mirror, who can see his own reflection?"

"I shall not speak of other matters for now, but ask you, my ministers, one thing alone! The territory of our Great Ming — compared to the founding reigns of Hongwu and Yongle, has it expanded, or has it shrunk?" "In the third year of Xuande, the Jiaozhi Provincial Administration Commission was abandoned!"

"In the ninth year of Xuande, the Nurgan Regional Military Commission was abolished!"

"During the Chenghua and Jiajing years, Altan Khan seized the Ordos Loop, and even used military force to press his demands for tribute."

"By the final years of Wanli, even Liaodong was lost in its entirety, and to this day the eastern crisis remains a mortal affliction at our dynasty's heart, a shackle we cannot break!"

Zhu Youjian mercilessly laid bare this whole sequence of decline, showing not the slightest regard for the face of his imperial ancestors.

"At the dynasty's founding, with a registered population of sixty million, we could yet open frontiers and expand our territory, our might extending to the four seas. Now, the registered population is said to exceed a hundred million — yet we cannot carry on that legacy. The people grow ever more numerous, while the land grows ever more scarce. What is the cause of this?"

"Are not the omens of defeat and ruin glaringly obvious?"

"Even setting aside the contention between people and land — how does the situation today differ from the end of Han or the decline of Tang?"

His gaze swept across the faces of the assembled officials as he launched an unsparing, map-wide saturation attack.

"The dynasty's fortunes wane by the day; our territory shrinks by the day."

"Within the court, the hundred officials pursue private gain; upon the battlefields, generals and commanders cherish their own lives."

"The Son of Heaven grows indolent in governance, secluding himself deep within the palace; eunuchs run rampant within, while the Depot and Guard spread their reach everywhere without."

"The imperial clan and ennobled relatives, the landed magnates and local strongmen — they annex and engross across the countryside without end!" Zhu Youjian gave a soft sigh.

"My ministers, what need is there to speak further of the people-land contention as a warning?"

"The lessons of former dynasties stand starkly before our eyes!"

"This, then, is the second principle I wish to lay before you. Take history as your mirror — the warning of Yin is not far removed!"

As his words fell, a deathly stillness gripped the entire assembly.

At precisely this critical juncture, the north wind barreled into the plaza, snapping the great banner of "Sun, Moon, Rivers, and Mountains" with a sharp, cracking sound.

The chill air crept in through collars and sleeve seams, setting men trembling uncontrollably.

At the rear of the ranks, some younger faces felt their hearts stir with heat, agitated into restlessness by these two waves of exhortation.

But the greater number of middle-aged and elderly officials merely turned over the Emperor's intent in their minds.

Were these two principles correct?

Entirely correct.

But to state the problems so comprehensively was tantamount to stating no problem at all.

The Emperor's intent did not lie in these problems, nor in assigning blame — this much was plain for everyone to see.

Yet to go to such elaborate lengths, to single them out for exposition, to drive the atmosphere to a freezing point, and even to drag out the faces of every Zhu-dynasty emperor and slap them left and right — for what, ultimately, was this laying the groundwork?

This groundwork was too heavy; it pressed down on men's hearts with suffocating dread.

And this third point... what exactly would it reveal when the dagger was finally bared?

No one in the plaza uttered a sound; all held their breath and listened.

Zhu Youjian paused a moment, then continued.

"In ages past, there were those who attempted to shore up the collapsing heavens, to prolong their dynasty's mandate."

"Emperor Guangwu of Han, Liu Xiu, restored the house of Han and extended the Eastern Han's mandate by nearly two centuries. Emperor Xianzong of Tang, Li Chun, quelled the military governors and won renown for the Yuanhe Restoration." "But what of it?"

"The Guangwu Restoration — yet the great clans and local magnates grew too powerful to be reined in, and in the end came the calamity of the Eastern Han's final years!"

"The Yuanhe Restoration — yet eunuch tyranny and factional strife persisted, and in the end the Tang's decline could not be reversed!"

"Today, if I join hearts and strength with you, my ministers, to ensure that Great Ming does not perish within twenty years, within fifty years — I believe that is not difficult!"

"To restore conditions to the level of the Longqing and Wanli years — I also believe that is not difficult!"

"If ten years cannot achieve it, then twenty years, thirty years — can it truly not be done?"

Zhu Youjian paid them no heed; his emotions had climbed to a peak, and his voice grew ever more impassioned.

"But even so, what of it? Could it compare to the Hongwu era? Could it compare to the Yongle era?"

"And even if it truly could — what would such a so-called Great Ming restoration amount to!"

"In history, the dynasties that may be called great include the Zhou, the Han, the Tang, the Song, and others."

"And as for the various so-called great reigns of order, the various restorations — they are beyond counting."

"Which of them is worthy of praise? After any dynasty's restoration, has it ever surpassed its founding era? Has it ever surpassed its zenith?"

Zhu Youjian's cadence grew ever more urgent as he strove to convey this sweeping, magnificent vision to all who listened.

"None. Not a single one. In the end, these so-called restorations were nothing more than papering over a crumbling edifice, struggling to eke out a few more gasping breaths!"

"In China's millennia of history, what dynasty, what civil official or military commander, has ever truly seen through and broken free from this cycle of rise and fall!" Zhu Youjian's hands swept through the air as his passion rose.

"But our Great Ming — not so!"

"We, together with our ministers, have already glimpsed the crux that has shackled China for two thousand years!"

"Our dynasty possesses a billion common folk, a realm stretching ten thousand li, abundant goods and prosperous people — this is a moment granted by Heaven, an opportunity without precedent!"

"Therefore, what we seek is not merely to shore up the altars of state, not merely a restoration and renewal!"

Zhu Youjian's voice paused for an instant, and at last he revealed the dagger hidden within the map of Yan!!

"But to surpass!"

"To surpass the founding of the Hongwu Emperor, to exceed the zenith of the Yongle Emperor!"

"We shall join with you, our ministers, to restore the governance of the Three Dynasties, to resolve the puzzle of the ages! To inaugurate an era of greatness that far outstrips Han and Tang, unprecedented since time began!"

"Only this — only this — is the towering achievement that, through China's millennia, no dynasty, no worthy minister or fine general, no sage sovereign, has ever been able to accomplish!" At this, Zhu Youjian gestured emptily toward the ranks of officials.

"We hope that, a thousand years hence, when later generations speak of peerless meritorious ministers, the names they utter will not be Zhang Liang, not Xiao He, not Wei Zheng, not Yue Fei!"

"But Huang Liji! Zhang Weixian! Ma Shilong! Every single person standing in this square today! This — this is the third truth we wish to impart today!"

"This — this is the truth that the present surpasses the past! This — this is the truth of carrying forward the past and opening up the future!"

"This — this is the truth of what can truly be acclaimed in the annals of history, of doing what no dynasty in China's millennia has been able to do!"

Zhu Youjian let out a long sigh, as though he had poured out every last heroic ambition in his heart.

He lowered his gaze, letting it rest upon Zhang Maoxiu, and his voice returned to calm.

"And this, precisely, is the truth we wish for all under Heaven — for Lord Jiangling — to bear witness to!"

"Not modeling after the Former Kings, nor the Latter Kings, but thoroughly, utterly doing what those before could not do, attaining the aspirations those before could not attain!"

"And looking across the cosmos, through the dim annals of history, only our Great Ming can accomplish this grand enterprise! Only those of you assembled here can accomplish this grand enterprise!" As his words fell, the entire plaza before the Gate of Supreme Ultimate sank into a strange, absolute silence.

The wind swept through, and the great banners snapped and roared — the sole sound between heaven and earth.

Even Huang Liji, ordinarily the most quick-witted and smooth, now merely stood there dumbstruck, mouth agape, unable to utter a single word. Zhu Youjian stood quietly; having spoken all he had to say, the surging emotion in his heart had, instead, utterly subsided.

He did not need everyone to genuinely agree.

He only needed, in the midst of this grand ceremony, to transform these three truths into a collectively acknowledged "consensus."

Afterward, the Great Ming Times would naturally publish a stream of editorials to explicate them; countless clever men who truly embraced these truths — or who clung to them for power — would naturally spread them.

So long as the conviction that "the present must surpass the past" could be truly established, this nation would, of its own accord, gain an inexhaustible forward momentum. And all his measures that defied ancestral institutions and violated tradition could then be debated and advanced within this framework.

Zhu Youjian's gaze drifted unconsciously toward the Secretariat's ranks.

Those young and spirited officials ought to be the easiest to stir.

Yet, to his surprise, the first answering cry did not come from the Secretariat, but from the farthest end of the ranks.

A somewhat hoarse, yet piercingly clear shout rang out abruptly:

"Through the dim annals of history — only Great Ming!"

It was simply too far; Zhu Youjian could not even make out who had uttered that first cry.

But that shout was like a spark falling upon a parched grassland.

Immediately after, a few more scattered shouts rose from various points in the ranks.

"Through the dim annals of history — only Great Ming!"

Then, someone knelt.

From back to front, scattered at first, then like a tide, section by section they dropped to their knees.

Huang Liji, Zhang Weixian, Liu Zongzhou, Sun Shenxing — these men who stood at the pinnacle of Great Ming's power, or who had once wielded the cudgel of moral authority — whether in their hearts they approved, opposed, or were weighing the pros and cons, sooner or later, each straightened his robes and knelt in turn.

And many of the younger officials — men like Ni Yuanlu, Qi Xinxiao, Zhang Zhiji, Luo Yangxing — knelt as one.

A few of more sensitive disposition, whose emotions ran hot, had even begun to shed tears.

The converging shouts, at first somewhat ragged and disordered, gradually found a single rhythm between heaven and earth. In that moment, it was like spring ice thawing, a great river bursting forth, a thousand streams pouring into the sea — finally transforming into a heaven-shaking, earth-moving roar! Across the plaza before the Gate of Supreme Ultimate, only those eight characters remained, booming like thunder.

"Through the dim annals of history — only Great Ming!"

"Through the dim annals of history — only Great Ming!"

"Through the dim annals of history — only Great Ming!"

Zhu Youjian watched the mountain-roar, tsunami-wave scene before him, watched those face after face — fanatical, stirred, solemn — and lightly clenched his fist. Good. This was enough.

A shared imagining — a glory belonging not only to the Son of Heaven but also to his ministers — had at last been clearly articulated and proclaimed to all under Heaven. Zhu Youjian did not need everyone's genuine approval; he needed only their outward approval.

Now that the great curtain had risen, there was no stopping what followed.

This was the purpose of assembly; this was the purpose of a shared imagining.

The seedling of spirit had been planted. What came next was watering, fertilizing, and… pruning away those dead and dying branches that sought to devour its nourishment. After all this time — forbearance, compromise, exhortation, inspiration — having secured all legal and moral authority, he could at last, formally, bare his fangs.

Beneath this majestic, sweeping tide —

Those who openly obstruct, who would play the mantis trying to stop a chariot;

Those who go against the current, who would turn back the clock;

Those with honey on their lips and daggers in their hearts, who feign compliance while working against it;

Those who hold office and eat idle, content to slack and neglect their duties —

All shall be swept clean by this torrent of reform, with absolutely no chance of escape!

In days past, beneath the red flag, thirty-five years honing a single blade — today, we present it for your inspection.

We ask you, gentlemen of Great Ming: is this blade sharp enough!